Chapter XXXVII: Preface: To "an Abridgment of the Book of Common Prayer"82 (3)

It is a great while since I have heard any thing of the _good Bishop_. Strange, that so simple a Character should sufficiently distinguish one of that sacred Body! _Donnez-moi de ses Nouvelles._ I have been some time flatter'd with the Expectation of seeing the Countenance of that most honoured and ever beloved Friend, delineated by your Pencil. The Portrait is said to have been long on the way, but is not yet arriv'd; nor can I hear where it is.

Indolent as I have confess'd myself to be, I could not, you see, miss this good and safe Opportunity of sending you a few Lines, with my best Wishes for your Happiness, and that of the whole dear and amiable Family in whose sweet Society I have spent so many happy Hours. Mr. Jones[104] tells me, he shall have a Pleasure in being the Bearer of my Letter, of which I make no doubt. I learn from him, that to your Drawing, and Music, and Painting, and Poetry, and Latin, you have added a Proficiency in Chess, so that you are, as the French say, _tout plein de talens_. May they and you fall to the Lot of one, that shall duly value them, and love you as much as I do. Adieu.

B. F[RANKLIN].

TO RICHARD PRICE

Passy, Oct. 9, 1780.

DEAR SIR,

Besides the Pleasure of their Company, I had the great Satisfaction of hearing by your two valuable Friends, and learning from your Letter, that you enjoy a good State of Health. May God continue it, as well for the Good of Mankind as for your Comfort. I thank you much for the second Edition of your excellent Pamphlet.[105] I forwarded that you sent to Mr. Dana, he being in Holland. I wish also to see the Piece you have written (as Mr. Jones tells me) on Toleration. I do not expect that your new Parliament will be either wiser or honester than the last. All Projects to procure an honest one, by Place Bills, &c., appear to me vain and Impracticable. The true Cure, I imagine, is to be found only in rendring all Places unprofitable, and the King too poor to give Bribes and Pensions. Till this is done, which can only be by a Revolution (and I think you have not Virtue enough left to procure one), your Nation will always be plundered, and obliged to pay by Taxes the Plunderers for Plundering and Ruining. Liberty and Virtue therefore join in the call, COME OUT OF HER, MY PEOPLE!

I am fully of your Opinion respecting religious Tests; but, tho' the People of Massachusetts have not in their new Constitution kept quite clear of them, yet, if we consider what that People were 100 Years ago, we must allow they have gone great Lengths in Liberality of Sentiment on religious Subjects; and we may hope for greater Degrees of Perfection, when their Constitution, some years hence, shall be revised. If Christian Preachers had continued to teach as Christ and his Apostles did, without Salaries, and as the Quakers now do, I imagine Tests would never have existed; for I think they were invented, not so much to secure Religion itself, as the Emoluments of it. When a Religion is good, I conceive that it will support itself; and, when it cannot support itself, and God does not take care to support, so that its Professors are oblig'd to call for the help of the Civil Power, it is a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one. But I shall be out of my Depth, if I wade any deeper in Theology, and I will not trouble you with Politicks, nor with News which are almost as uncertain; but conclude with a heartfelt Wish to embrace you once more, and enjoy your sweet Society in Peace, among our honest, worthy, ingenious Friends at the _London_[106] Adieu,

B. FRANKLIN.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT

Midnight, October 22, 1780.

FRANKLIN. Eh! Oh! Eh! What have I done to merit these cruel sufferings?

GOUT. Many things; you have ate and drank too freely, and too much indulged those legs of yours in their indolence.

FRANKLIN. Who is it that accuses me?

GOUT. It is I, even I, the Gout.

FRANKLIN. What! my enemy in person?

GOUT. No, not your enemy.

FRANKLIN. 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.

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.

FRANKLIN. 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.

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 recreations, 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 afterward 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 awhile 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.

FRANKLIN. Oh! Eh! Oh! Ohhh! As much instruction as you please, Madam Gout, and as many reproaches; but pray, Madam, a truce with your corrections!

GOUT. No, Sir, no,--I will not abate a particle of what is so much for your good,--therefore--

FRANKLIN. 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.

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;[107] 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 further from Passy to Auteuil than from Auteuil to Passy.

FRANKLIN. Your reasonings grow very tiresome.

GOUT. I stand corrected. I will be silent and continue my office; take that, and that.

FRANKLIN. Oh! Ohh! Talk on, I pray you!

GOUT. No, no; I have a good number of twinges for you to-night, and you may be sure of some more to-morrow.

FRANKLIN. What, with such a fever! I shall go distracted. Oh! Eh! Can no one bear it for me?

GOUT. Ask that of your horses; they have served you faithfully.

FRANKLIN. How can you so cruelly sport with my torments?

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.

FRANKLIN. Read it then.

GOUT. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly mention some particulars.

FRANKLIN. Proceed. I am all attention.

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?

FRANKLIN. That I confess may have happened occasionally, probably ten times in a year.

GOUT. Your confession is very far short of the truth; the gross amount is one hundred and ninety-nine times.

FRANKLIN. Is it possible?

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?

FRANKLIN. I cannot immediately answer that question.

GOUT. I will do it for you; not once.

FRANKLIN. Not once?

GOUT. Even so. During the summer you went there at six o'clock. You found the charming lady, with her lovely children and friends, eager to walk with you, and entertain you with their agreeable conversation; and what has been your choice? Why to sit on the terrace, satisfying yourself with the fine prospect, and passing your eye over the beauties of the garden below, without taking one step to descend and walk about in them. On the contrary, you call for tea and the chess-board; and lo! you are occupied in your seat till nine o'clock, and that besides two hours' play after dinner; and then, instead of walking home, which would have bestirred you a little, you step into your carriage. How absurd to suppose that all this carelessness can be reconcilable with health, without my interposition!

FRANKLIN. I am convinced now of the justness of poor Richard's remark, that "Our debts and our sins are always greater than we think for."

GOUT. So it is. You philosophers are sages in your maxims, and fools in your conduct.

FRANKLIN. But do you charge among my crimes, that I return in a carriage from Mr. Brillon's?

GOUT. Certainly; for, having been seated all the while, you cannot object the fatigue of the day, and cannot want therefore the relief of a carriage.

FRANKLIN. What then would you have me do with my carriage?

GOUT. Burn it if you choose; you would at least get heat out of it once in this way; or, if you dislike that proposal, here's another for you; observe the poor peasants, who work in the vineyards and grounds about the villages of Passy, Auteuil, Chaillot, &c.; you may find every day, among these deserving creatures, four or five old men and women, bent and perhaps crippled by weight of years, and too long and too great labour. After a most fatiguing day, these people have to trudge a mile or two to their smoky huts. Order your coachman to set them down. This is an act that will be good for your soul; and, at the same time, after your visit to the Brillons, if you return on foot, that will be good for your body.

FRANKLIN. Ah! how tiresome you are!

GOUT. Well, then, to my office; it should not be forgotten that I am your physician. There.

FRANKLIN. Ohhh! what a devil of a physician!

GOUT. How ungrateful you are to say so! Is it not I who, in the character of your physician, have saved you from the palsy, dropsy, and apoplexy? one or other of which would have done for you long ago, but for me.

FRANKLIN. I submit, and thank you for the past, but entreat the discontinuance of your visits for the future; for, in my mind, one had better die than be cured so dolefully. Permit me just to hint, that I have also not been unfriendly to _you_. I never feed physician or quack of any kind, to enter the list against you; if then you do not leave me to my repose, it may be said you are ungrateful too.

GOUT. I can scarcely acknowledge that as any objection. As to quacks, I despise them; they may kill you indeed, but cannot injure me. And, as to regular physicians, they are at last convinced that the gout, in such a subject as you are, is no disease, but a remedy; and wherefore cure a remedy?--but to our business,--there.

FRANKLIN. Oh! oh!--for Heaven's sake leave me! and I promise faithfully never more to play at chess, but to take exercise daily, and live temperately.

GOUT. I know you too well. You promise fair; but, after a few months of good health, you will return to your old habits; your fine promises will be forgotten like the forms of last year's clouds. Let us then finish the account, and I will go. But I leave you with an assurance of visiting you again at a proper time and place; for my object is your good, and you are sensible now that I am your _real friend_.

THE HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG[108]

[1780?]

There are two Sorts of People in the World, who with equal Degrees of Health, & Wealth, and the other Comforts of Life, become, the one happy, and the other miserable. This arises very much from the different Views in which they consider Things, Persons, and Events; and the Effect of those different Views upon their own Minds.

In whatever Situation Men can be plac'd, they may find Conveniencies & Inconveniencies: In whatever Company; they may find Persons & Conversation more or less pleasing. At whatever Table, they may meet with Meats & Drinks of better and worse Taste, Dishes better & worse dress'd: In whatever Climate they will find good and bad Weather: Under whatever Government, they may find good & bad Laws, and good & bad Administration of those Laws. In every Poem or Work of Genius they may see Faults and Beauties. In almost every Face & every Person, they may discover fine Features & Defects, good & bad Qualities.

Under these Circumstances, the two Sorts of People above mention'd fix their Attention, those who are to be happy, on the Conveniencies of Things, the pleasant Parts of Conversation, the well-dress'd Dishes, the Goodness of the Wines, the fine Weather; &c., and enjoy all with Chearfulness. Those who are to be unhappy, think & speak only of the contraries. Hence they are continually discontented themselves, and by their Remarks sour the Pleasures of Society, offend personally many People, and make themselves everywhere disagreable. If this Turn of Mind was founded in Nature, such unhappy Persons would be the more to be pitied. But as the Disposition to criticise, & be disgusted, is perhaps taken up originally by Imitation, and is unawares grown into a Habit, which tho' at present strong may nevertheless be cured when those who have it are convinc'd of its bad Effects on their Felicity; I hope this little Admonition may be of Service to them, and put them on changing a Habit, which tho' in the Exercise it is chiefly an Act of Imagination yet has serious Consequences in Life, as it brings on real Griefs and Misfortunes. For as many are offended by, & nobody well loves this Sort of People, no one shows them more than the most common [civility and respect, and scarcely that; and this frequently puts them out of humour, and draws them into disputes and contentions. If they aim at obtaining some advantage in rank or fortune, nobody wishes them success, or will stir a step, or speak a word, to favour their pretensions. If they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will defend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their misconduct, and render them completely odious. If these people will not change this bad habit, and condescend to be pleased with what is pleasing, without fretting themselves and others about the contraries, it is good for others to avoid an acquaintance with them; which is always disagreeable, and sometimes very inconvenient, especially when one finds one's self entangled in their quarrels.

An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from experience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully avoided any intimacy with such people. He had, like other philosophers, a thermometer to show him the heat of the weather, and a barometer to mark when it was likely to prove good or bad; but, there being no instrument invented to discover, at first sight, this unpleasing disposition in a person, he for that purpose made use of his legs; one of which was remarkably handsome, the other, by some accident, crooked and] deformed. If a Stranger, at the first interview, regarded his ugly Leg more than his handsome one, he doubted him. If he spoke of it, & took no notice of the handsome Leg, that was sufficient to determine my Philosopher to have no further Acquaintance with him. Every body has not this two-legged Instrument, but every one with a little Attention, may observe Signs of that carping, fault-finding Disposition, & take the same Resolution of avoiding the Acquaintance of those infected with it. I therefore advise those critical, querulous, discontented, unhappy People, that if they wish to be respected and belov'd by others, & happy in themselves they should _leave off looking at the ugly Leg_.

TO MISS GEORGIANA SHIPLEY[109]

... Must now be next its End, as I have compleated my 75th Year I could wish to see my dear Friends of your Family once more before I withdraw, but I see no Prospect of enjoying that Felicity. Let me at least have that of hearing from you a little oftener.

I do not understand the Coldness you mention of the Nights in the Desert. I never before heard of such an Observation. If you have learnt what was the Degree of cold and how it was observed, and what Difference between the Night and the Day, you will oblige me by communicating it. I like to see that you retain a Taste for Philosophical Enquiries.

I rec^d also your very kind Letter by Mad^e ---- [_illegible in MS_], with whom and the Princess, her Mother, I am much pleased; tho' I have not seen them so often as I wished, living as I do out of Paris.

I am glad to hear that you all pass'd the summer so agreably in Wales, and I felicitate you as the French say, on the Increase of your Brother's Family.

Accept my Thanks for your Friendly Verses and good Wishes. How many Talents you possess! Painting, Poetry, Languages, etc., etc. All valuable, but your good Heart is worth the whole.

Your mention of the Summer House brings fresh to my mind all the Pleasures I enjoyed in the sweet Retreat at Twyford: the Hours of agreable and instructive Conversation with the amiable Family at Table; with its Father alone; the delightful Walks in the Gardens and neighbouring Grounds. Pleasures past and gone forever! Since I have had your Father's Picture I am grown more covetous of the rest; every time I look at your second Drawing I have regretted that you have not given to your Juno the Face of Anna Maria, to Venus that of Emily or Betsey, and to Cupid that of Emily's Child, as it would have cost you but little more Trouble. I must, however, beg that you will make me up a compleat Set of your little Profiles, which are more easily done. You formerly obliged me with that of the Father, an excellent one. Let me also have that of the good Mother, and of all the Children. It will help me to fancy myself among you, and to enjoy more perfectly in Idea, the Pleasure of your Society. My little Fellow-Traveller, the sprightly Hetty, with whose sensible Prattle I was so much entertained, why does she not write to me? If Paris affords any thing that any of you wish to have, mention it. You will oblige me. It affords everything but _Peace_! Ah! when shall we again enjoy that Blessing!

Next to seeing our Friends is the Pleasure of hearing from them, and learning how they live. Your Accounts of your Journies and how you pass your Summers please me much. I flatter myself you will like to know something of the same kind relating to me. I inhabit, a clean, well-built Village situate on a Hill, in a fine Air, with a beautiful Prospect, about 2 Miles [_Incomplete._]

TO DAVID HARTLEY

Passy, December 15, 1781.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

I received your favour of September 26th,[110] containing your very judicious proposition of securing the spectators in the opera and play houses from the danger of fire. I communicated it where I thought it might be useful. You will see by the enclosed, that the subject has been under consideration here. Your concern for the security of life, even the lives of your enemies, does honour to your heart and your humanity. But what are the lives of a few idle haunters of play houses, compared with the many thousands of worthy men, and honest industrious families, butchered and destroyed by this devilish war? Oh that we could find some happy invention to stop the spreading of the flames, and put an end to so horrid a conflagration! Adieu, I am ever yours most affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN.

SUPPLEMENT TO THE BOSTON INDEPENDENT CHRONICLE[111]

Numb. 705

Boston, March 12, 1782.

Extract of a Letter from Captain Gerrish, of the New England Militia, dated Albany, March 7.

The Peltry taken in the Expedition [see the Account of the Expedition to Oswegatchie, on the River St. Laurence, in our Paper of the 1st Instant,] will, as you see, amount to a good deal of Money. The Possession of this Booty at first gave us Pleasure; but we were struck with Horror to find among the Packages 8 large ones, containing SCALPS of our unhappy Country-folks, taken in the three last Years by the Senneka Indians from the Inhabitants of the Frontiers of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Virginia, and sent by them as a Present to Col. Haldimand, governor of Canada, in order to be by him transmitted to England. They were accompanied by the following curious Letter to that Gentleman.

"Teoga, Jan. 3d, 1782.

"May it please your Excellency,

"At the Request of the Senneka chiefs, I send herewith to
your Excellency, under the Care of James Boyd, eight Packs of
Scalps, cured, dried, hooped, and painted, with all the
Indian triumphal Marks, of which the following is Invoice and
Explanation.

"No. 1. Containing 43 Scalps of Congress Soldiers, killed in
different Skirmishes; these are Stretched on black Hoops, 4
Inches diameter; the Inside of the Skin painted red, with a
small black Spot to note their being killed with Bullets.
Also 62 of Farmers killed in their Houses; the Hoops red; the
Skin painted brown, and marked with a Hoe; a black Circle all
round, to denote their being surprised in the Night; and a
black Hatchet in the Middle, signifying their being killed
with that Weapon.

"No. 2. Containing 98 of Farmers killed in their Houses;
Hoops red; Figure of a Hoe, to mark their Profession; great
white Circle and Sun, to show they were surprised in the
Daytime; a little red Foot, to show they stood upon their
Defence, and died fighting for their Lives and Families.

"No. 3. Containing 97 of Farmers; Hoops green, to shew they
were killed in their Fields; a large white Circle with a
little round Mark on it for the Sun, to shew that it was in
the Daytime; black Bullet-mark on some, Hatchet on others.

"No. 4. Containing 102 of Farmers, mixed of the several Marks
above; only 18 marked with a little yellow Flame, to denote
their being of Prisoners burnt alive, after being scalped,
their Nails pulled out by the Roots, and other Torments; one
of these latter supposed to be a rebel Clergyman, his Band
being fixed to the Hoop of his Scalp. Most of the Farmers
appear by the Hair to have been young or middle-aged Men;
there being but 67 very grey Heads among them all; which
makes the Service more essential.

"No. 5. Containing 88 Scalps of Women; hair long, braided in
the Indian Fashion, to shew they were Mothers; Hoops blue;
Skin yellow Ground, with little red Tadpoles, to represent,
by way of Triumph, the Tears of Grief occasioned to their
Relations; a black scalping-Knife or Hatchet at the Bottom,
to mark their being killed with those Instruments. 17 others,
Hair very grey; black Hoops; plain brown Colour; no Mark, but
the short Club or _Casse-tête_, to shew they were knocked
down dead, or had their Brains beat out.

"No. 6. Containing 193 Boys' Scalps, of various Ages; small
green Hoops; whitish Ground on the Skin, with red Tears in
the Middle, and black Bullet-marks, Knife, Hatchet, or Club,
as their Deaths happened.

"No. 7. 211 Girls' Scalps, big and little; small yellow
Hoops; white Ground, Tears; Hatchet, Club, scalping-Knife,
&c.

"No. 8. This Package is a Mixture of all the Varieties
abovementioned; to the number of 122; with a Box of Birch
Bark, containing 29 little Infants' Scalps of various Sizes;
small white Hoops; white Ground; no Tears; and only a little
black Knife in the Middle, to shew they were ript out of
their Mothers' Bellies.

"With these Packs, the Chiefs send to your Excellency the
following Speech, delivered by Conejogatchie in Council,
interpreted by the elder Moore, the Trader, and taken down by
me in Writing.

Father,

We send you herewith many Scalps, that you may see we are
not idle Friends.

_A blue Belt._

Father,

We wish you to send these Scalps over the Water to the
great King, that he may regard them and be refreshed;
and that he may see our faithfulness in destroying his
Enemies, and be convinced that his Presents have not been
made to ungrateful people.

_A blue and white Belt with red Tassels._

Father,

Attend to what I am now going to say; it is a Matter of
much Weight. The great King's Enemies are many, and they
grow fast in Number. They were formerly like young
Panthers; they could neither bite nor scratch; we could
play with them safely; we feared nothing they could do to
us. But now their Bodies are become big as the Elk, and
strong as the Buffalo; they have also got great and sharp
Claws. They have driven us out of our Country for taking
part in your Quarrel. We expect the great King will give
us another Country, that our Children may live after us,
and be his Friends and Children, as we are. Say this for
us to the great King. To enforce it, we give this Belt.

_A great white Belt with blue Tassels._

Father,

We have only to say farther, that your Traders exact more
than ever for their Goods; and our hunting is lessened by
the War, so that we have fewer Skins to give for them.
This ruins us. Think of some Remedy. We are poor; and you
have Plenty of every Thing. We know you will send us
Powder and Guns, and Knives and Hatchets; but we also
want Shirts and Blankets.

_A little white Belt._

"I do not doubt but that your Excellency will think it proper
to give some farther Encouragement to those honest People.
The high Prices they complain of are the necessary Effect of
the War. Whatever Presents may be sent for them, through my
Hands, shall be distributed with Prudence and Fidelity. I
have the Honour of being your Excellency's most obedient

"And most humble Servant,
JAMES CRAUFURD."

It was at first proposed to bury these Scalps; but Lieutenant Fitzgerald, who, you know, has got Leave of Absence to go to Ireland on his private Affairs, said he thought it better they should proceed to their Destination; and if they were given to him, he would undertake to carry them to England, and hang them all up in some dark Night on the Trees in St. James's Park, where they could be seen from the King and Queen's Palaces in the Morning; for that the Sight of them might perhaps strike Muley Ishmael (as he called him) with some Compunction of Conscience. They were accordingly delivered to Fitz, and he has brought them safe hither. To-morrow they go with his Baggage in a Waggon for Boston, and will probably be there in a few Days after this Letter.

I am, &c.
SAMUEL GERRISH.

Boston, March 20.

Monday last arrived here Lieutenant Fitzgerald above mentioned, and Yesterday the Waggon with the Scalps. Thousands of People are flocking to see them this Morning, and all Mouths are full of Execrations. Fixing them to the Trees is not approved. It is now proposed to make them up in decent little Packets, seal and direct them; one to the King, containing a Sample of every Sort for his Museum; one to the Queen, with some of Women and little Children; the Rest to be distributed among both Houses of Parliament; a double Quantity to the Bishops.

[The following part appeared in a second edition from which certain advertisements which had been published in the first edition were omitted.]

MR. WILLIS,

Please to insert in your useful Paper the following Copy of a Letter from Commodore Jones, directed

TO SIR JOSEPH YORK, AMBASSADOR FROM THE KING OF ENGLAND TO
THE STATES-GENERAL OF THE UNITED PROVINCES

"Ipswich, New England, March 7, 1781.

"SIR,

"I have lately seen a memorial, said to have been presented
by your Excellency to their High Mightinesses the
States-general, in which you are pleased to qualify me with
the title of _pirate_.

"A pirate is defined to be _hostis humani generis_ [an enemy
to all mankind]. It happens, Sir, that I am an enemy to no
part of mankind, except your nation, the English; which
nation at the same time comes much more within the
definition, being actually an enemy to, and at war with, one
whole quarter of the world, America, considerable part of
Asia and Africa, a great part of Europe, and in a fair way of
being at war with the rest.

"A pirate makes war for the sake of _rapine_. This is not the
kind of war I am engaged in against England. Ours is a war in
defence of _liberty_ ... the most just of all wars; and of
our _properties_, which your nation would have taken from us,
without our consent, in violation of our rights, and by an
armed force. Yours, therefore is a war of _rapine_; of
course, a piratical war; and those who approve of it, and are
engaged in it, more justly deserve the name of _pirates_,
which you bestow on me. It is, indeed, a war that coincides
with the general spirit of your nation. Your common people in
their ale-houses sing the twenty-four songs of Robin Hood,
and applaud his deer-stealing and his robberies on the
highway: those, who have just learning enough to read, are
delighted with your histories of the pirates and of the
buccaniers; and even your scholars in the universities study
Quintus Curtius, and are taught to admire Alexander for what
they call 'his conquests in the Indies.' Severe laws and the
hangmen keep down the effects of this spirit somewhat among
yourselves (though in your little Island you have
nevertheless more highway robberies than there are in all the
rest of Europe put together); but a foreign war gives it full
scope. It is then that, with infinite pleasure, it lets
itself loose to strip of their property honest merchants,
employed in the innocent and useful occupation of supplying
the mutual wants of mankind. Hence, having lately no war with
your ancient enemies, rather than be without a war, you chose
to make one upon your friends. In this your piratical war
with America, the mariners of your fleets and the owners of
your privateers were animated against us by the act of your
Parliament, which repealed the law of God, 'Thou shalt not
steal,' by declaring it lawful for them to rob us of all our
property that they could meet with on the ocean. This act,
too, had a retrospect, and, going beyond bulls of pardon,
declared that all the robberies you _had committed_ previous
to the act should be _deemed just and lawful_. Your soldiers,
too, were promised the plunder of our cities; and your
officers were flattered with the division of our lands. You
had even the baseness to corrupt our servants, the sailors
employed by us, and encourage them to rob their masters and
bring to you the ships and goods they were entrusted with. Is
there any society of pirates on the sea or land, who, in
declaring wrong to be right, and right wrong, have less
authority than your parliament? Do any of them more justly
than your parliament deserve the _title_ you bestow on me?

"You will tell me that we forfeited all our estates by our
refusal to pay the taxes your nation would have imposed on us
without the consent of our colony parliaments. Have you then
forgotten the incontestable principle, which was the
foundation of Hambden's glorious lawsuit with Charles the
first, that 'what an English king has no right to demand, an
English subject has a right to refuse'? But you cannot so
soon have forgotten the instructions of your late honorable
father, who, being himself a sound Whig, taught you certainly
the principles of the Revolution, and that, 'if subjects
might in some cases forfeit their property, kings also might
forfeit their title, and all claim to the allegiance of their
subjects.' I must then suppose you well acquainted with those
Whig principles; on which permit me, Sir, to ask a few
questions.

"Is not protection as justly due from a king to his people,
as obedience from the people to their king?

"If then a king declares his people to be out of his
protection:

"If he violates and deprives them of their constitutional
rights:

"If he wages war against them:

"If he plunders their merchants, ravages their coasts, burns
their towns, and destroys their lives:

"If he hires foreign mercenaries to help him in their
destruction:

"If he engages savages to murder their defenceless farmers,
women, and children:

"If he cruelly forces such of his subjects as fall into his
hands, to bear arms against their country, and become
executioners of their friends and brethren:

"If he sells others of them into bondage, in Africa and the
East Indies:

"If he excites domestic insurrections among their servants,
and encourages servants to murder their masters:--

"Does not so atrocious a conduct towards his subjects
dissolve their allegiance?

"If not, please to say how or by what means it can possibly
be dissolved?

"All this horrible wickedness and barbarity has been and
daily is practised by the King, _your master_, (as you call
him in your memorial,) upon the Americans, whom he is still
pleased to claim as his subjects.

"During these six years past, he has destroyed not less than
forty thousand of those subjects, by battles on land or sea,
or by starving them, or poisoning them to death, in the
unwholesome air, with the unwholesome food of his prisons.
And he has wasted the lives of at least an equal number of
his own soldiers and sailors: many of whom have been _forced_
into this odious service, and _dragged_ from their families
and friends, by the outrageous violence of his illegal
press-gangs. You are a gentleman of letters, and have read
history: do you recollect any instance of any tyrant, since
the beginning of the world, who, in the course of so few
years, had done so much mischief, by murdering so many of his
own people? Let us view one of the worst and blackest of
them, Nero. He put to death a few of his courtiers, placemen,
and pensioners, and among the rest his _tutor_. Had George
the Third done the same, and no more, his crime, though
detestable, as an act of lawless power, might have been as
useful to his nation, as that of Nero was hurtful to Rome;
considering the different characters and merits of the
sufferers. Nero indeed wished that the people of Rome had but
one neck, that he might behead them all by one stroke; but
this was a simple wish. George is carrying the wish as fast
as he can into execution; and, by continuing in his present
course a few years longer, will have destroyed more of the
British people than Nero could have found inhabitants in
Rome. Hence the expression of Milton, in speaking of Charles
the First, that he was '_Nerone Neronior_,' is still more
applicable to George the third. Like Nero, and all other
tyrants, while they lived, he indeed has his flatterers, his
addressers, his applauders. Pensions, places, and hopes of
preferment can bribe even bishops to approve his conduct: but
when those fulsome, purchased addresses and panegyrics are
sunk and lost in oblivion or contempt, impartial history will
step forth, speak honest truth, and rank him among public
calamities. The only difference will be, that plagues,
pestilences, and famines are of this world, and arise from
the nature of things; but voluntary malice, mischief, and
murder, are from hell; and this King will, therefore, stand
foremost in the list of diabolical, bloody, and execrable
tyrants. His base-bought parliaments too, who sell him their
souls, and extort from the people the money with which they
aid his destructive purposes, as they share his guilt, will
share his infamy,--parliaments, who, to please him, have
repeatedly, by different votes year after year, dipped their
hands in human blood, insomuch that methinks I see it dried
and caked so thick upon them, that, if they could wash it off
in the Thames, which flows under their windows, the whole
river would run red to the ocean.

"One is provoked by enormous wickedness: but one is ashamed
and humiliated at the view of human baseness. It afflicts me,
therefore, to see a gentleman of Sir Joseph York's education
and talents, for the sake of a red riband and a paltry
stipend, mean enough to style such a monster _his master_,
wear his livery, and hold himself ready at his command even
to cut the throats of fellow subjects. This makes it
impossible for me to end my letter with the civility of a
compliment, and obliges me to subscribe myself simply,

"JOHN PAUL JONES,
"Whom you are pleased to style a _pirate_."

TO JOHN THORNTON

Passy, May 8, 1782.

SIR,

I received the letter you did me the honour of writing to me, and am much obliged by your kind present of a book. The relish for reading of poetry had long since left me, but there is something so new in the manner, so easy, and yet so correct in the language, so clear in the expression, yet concise, and so just in the sentiments, that I have read the whole with great pleasure, and some of the pieces more than once. I beg you to accept my thankful acknowledgments, and to present my respects to the author.[112]

I shall take care to forward the letters to America, and shall be glad of any other opportunity of doing what may be agreeable to you, being with great respect for your character,--Your most obedient humble servant,

B. FRANKLIN.

TO JOSEPH PRIESTLEY

Passy near Paris, June 7, 1782.

DEAR SIR,

I received your kind Letter of the 7th of April, also one of the 3d of May. I have always great Pleasure in hearing from you, in learning that you are well, and that you continue your Experiments. I should rejoice much, if I could once more recover the Leisure to search with you into the Works of Nature; I mean the _inanimate_, not the _animate_ or moral part of them, the more I discover'd of the former, the more I admir'd them; the more I know of the latter, the more I am disgusted with them. Men I find to be a Sort of Beings very badly constructed, as they are generally more easily provok'd than reconcil'd, more disposed to do Mischief to each other than to make Reparation, much more easily deceiv'd than undeceiv'd, and having more Pride and even Pleasure in killing than in begetting one another; for without a Blush they assemble in great armies at NoonDay to destroy, and when they have kill'd as many as they can, they exaggerate the Number to augment the fancied Glory; but they creep into Corners, or cover themselves with the Darkness of night, when they mean to beget, as being asham'd of a virtuous Action. A virtuous Action it would be, and a vicious one the killing of them, if the Species were really worth producing or preserving; but of this I begin to doubt.

I know you have no such Doubts, because, in your zeal for their welfare, you are taking a great deal of pains to save their Souls. Perhaps as you grow older, you may look upon this as a hopeless Project, or an idle Amusement, repent of having murdered in mephitic air so many honest, harmless mice, and wish that to prevent mischief, you had used Boys and Girls instead of them. In what Light we are viewed by superior Beings, may be gathered from a Piece of late West India News, which possibly has not yet reached you. A young Angel of Distinction being sent down to this world on some Business, for the first time, had an old courier-spirit assigned him as a Guide. They arriv'd over the Seas of Martinico, in the middle of the long Day of obstinate Fight between the Fleets of Rodney and De Grasse. When, thro' the Clouds of smoke, he saw the Fire of the Guns, the Decks covered with mangled Limbs, and Bodies dead or dying; the ships sinking, burning, or blown into the Air; and the Quantity of Pain, Misery, and Destruction, the Crews yet alive were thus with so much Eagerness dealing round to one another; he turn'd angrily to his Guide, and said, "You blundering Blockhead, you are ignorant of your Business; you undertook to conduct me to the Earth, and you have brought me into Hell!" "No, Sir," says the Guide, "I have made no mistake; this is really the Earth, and these are men. Devils never treat one another in this cruel manner; they have more Sense, and more of what Men (vainly) call _Humanity_."

But to be serious, my dear old Friend, I love you as much as ever, and I love all the honest Souls that meet at the London Coffee House. I only wonder how it happen'd, that they and my other Friends in England came to be such good Creatures in the midst of so perverse a Generation. I long to see them and you once more, and I labour for Peace with more Earnestness, that I may again be happy in your sweet society.

I show'd your letter to the Duke de Larochefoucault, who thinks with me, the new Experiments you have made are extremely curious; and he has given me thereupon a Note, which I inclose, and I request you would furnish me with the answer desired.

Yesterday the Count du Nord was at the Academy of Sciences, when sundry Experiments were exhibited for his Entertainment; among them, one by M. Lavoisier, to show that the strongest Fire we yet know, is made in a Charcoal blown upon with dephlogisticated air. In a Heat so produced, he melted Platina presently, the Fire being much more powerful than that of the strongest burning mirror. Adieu, and believe me ever, yours most affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN.

TO JONATHAN SHIPLEY

Passy, June 10, 1782.

I received and read the Letter from my dear and much respected Friend with infinite Pleasure. After so long a Silence, and the long Continuance of its unfortunate Causes, a Line from you was a Prognostic of happier Times approaching, when we may converse and communicate freely, without Danger from the malevolence of Men enrag'd by the ill success of their distracted Projects.

I long with you for the Return of Peace, on the general Principles of Humanity. The Hope of being able to pass a few more of my last Days happily in the sweet Conversations and Company I once enjoy'd at Twyford, is a particular Motive that adds Strength to the general Wish, and quickens my Industry to procure that best of Blessings. After much Occasion to consider the Folly and Mischiefs of a State of Warfare, and the little or no Advantage obtain'd even by those Nations, who have conducted it with the most Success, I have been apt to think, that there has never been, nor ever will be, any such thing as a _good_ War, or a _bad_ Peace.

You ask if I still relish my old Studies. I relish them, but I cannot pursue them. My Time is engross'd unhappily with other Concerns. I requested of the Congress last Year my Discharge from this publick Station, that I might enjoy a little Leisure in the Evening of a long Life of Business; but it was refus'd me, and I have been obliged to drudge on a little longer.

You are happy as your Years come on, in having that dear and most amiable Family about you. Four Daughters! how rich! I have but one, and she, necessarily detain'd from me at 1000 leagues distance. I feel the Want of that tender Care of me, which might be expected from a Daughter, and would give the World for one. Your Shades are all plac'd in a Row over my Fireplace, so that I not only have you always in my Mind, but constantly before my Eyes.

The Cause of Liberty and America has been greatly oblig'd to you. I hope you will live long to see that Country flourish under its new Constitution, which I am sure will give you great Pleasure. Will you permit me to express another Hope, that, now your Friends are in Power, they will take the first Opportunity of showing the sense they ought to have of your Virtues and your Merit?

Please to make my best Respects acceptable to Mrs. Shipley, and embrace for me tenderly all our dear Children. With the utmost Esteem, Respect, and Veneration, I am ever, my dear Friend, yours most affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN.

TO JAMES HUTTON

Passy, July 7, 1782.

MY OLD AND DEAR FRIEND,

A Letter written by you to M. Berlin,[113] _Ministre d'Etat_, containing an Account of the abominable Murders committed by some of the frontier People on the poor Moravian Indians, has given me infinite Pain and Vexation. The Dispensations of Providence in this World puzzle my weak Reason. I cannot comprehend why cruel Men should have been permitted thus to destroy their Fellow Creatures. Some of the Indians may be suppos'd to have committed Sins, but one cannot think the little Children had committed any worthy of Death. Why has a single Man in England, who happens to love Blood and to hate Americans, been permitted to gratify that bad Temper by hiring German Murderers, and joining them with his own, to destroy in a continued Course of bloody Years near 100,000 human Creatures, many of them possessed of useful Talents, Virtues and Abilities to which he has no Pretension! It is he who has furnished the Savages with Hatchets and Scalping Knives, and engages them to fall upon our defenceless Farmers, and murder them with their Wives and Children, paying for their Scalps, of which the account kept in America already amounts, as I have heard, to near _two Thousand_!

Perhaps the people of the frontiers, exasperated by the Cruelties of the Indians, have been induced to kill all Indians that fall into their Hands without Distinction; so that even these horrid Murders of our poor Moravians may be laid to his Charge. And yet this Man lives, enjoys all the good Things this World can afford, and is surrounded by Flatterers, who keep even his Conscience quiet by telling him he is the best of Princes! I wonder at this, but I cannot therefore part with the comfortable Belief of a Divine Providence; and the more I see the Impossibility, from the number & extent of his Crimes, of giving equivalent Punishment to a wicked Man in this Life, the more I am convinc'd of a future State, in which all that here appears to be wrong shall be set right, all that is crooked made straight. In this Faith let you & I, my dear Friend, comfort ourselves; it is the only Comfort, in the present dark Scene of Things, that is allow'd us.

I shall not fail to write to the Government of America, urging that effectual Care may be taken to protect & save the Remainder of those unhappy People.

Since writing the above, I have received a Philadelphia Paper, containing some Account of the same horrid Transaction, a little different, and some Circumstances alledged as Excuses or Palliations, but extreamly weak & insufficient. I send it to you inclos'd. With great and sincere Esteem, I am ever, my dear Friend, yours most affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN.

TO SIR JOSEPH BANKS[114]

Passy, Sept. 9, 1782.

DEAR SIR,