COOLING BODIES BY EVAPORATION... A POWER OF NATURE
It is but within these few years, that the European philosophers seem to have known this power in nature, of cooling bodies by evaporation. Even our common sailors seem to have had some notion of this property. I remember that, being at sea, when I was a youth, I observed one of the sailors, during a calm in the night, often wetting his finger in his mouth, and then holding it up in the air, to discover, as he said, if the air had any motion, and from which side it came; and this he expected to do, by finding one side of his finger grow suddenly cold, and from that side he should look for the next wind; which I then laughed at as a fancy.
During the hot Sunday at Philadelphia, in June 1750, when the thermometer was up at 100 in the shade, I sat in my chamber without exercise, only reading or writing, with no other clothes on than a shirt, and a pair of long linen drawers, the windows all open, and a brisk wind blowing through the house, the sweat running off the backs of my hands, and my shirt was often so wet, as to induce me to call for dry ones to put on. But my body never grew so hot as the air that surrounded it, or the inanimate bodies immers’d in the same air. May this not be a reason why our reapers in Pennsylvania, working in the open field in the clear hot sunshine common in our harvest time, find themselves well able to go through that labour without being much incommoded by the heat while they continue to sweat, and while they supply matter for keeping up that sweat by drinking frequently of a thin evaporable liquor, water mixed with rum? But if the sweat stops, they drop, and sometimes die suddenly if the sweating is not again brought on by drinking that liquor, or, as some rather choose in that case, a kind of hot punch made of water mixed with honey and a considerable proportion of vinegar.
THE VILLAGE WHERE MY FATHER WAS BORN
Billy and I travelled over a great part of England; and among other places visited the town my father was born in and found some relations in that part of the country still living (Thomas Franklin in Leicestershire, and his daughter Sally Franklin, who later lived with me in London).23 We went to Ecton, being the village where my father was born, and where his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had lived. We went first to see the old house and grounds; the land is now added to another farm, and a school kept in the house: it is a decayed old stone building, but still known by the name of Franklin House. Thence we went to visit the rector of the parish, who lives close by the church, a very ancient building. He entertained us very kindly, and showed us the old church register, in which were the births, marriages, and burials of our ancestors for 200 years, recorded as early as his book began. His wife, a good-natured chatty old lady, remembered a great deal about the family. She entertained and diverted us highly with stories of Thomas Franklin, who was a conveyancer, something of a lawyer, clerk of the county court, and clerk to the archdeacon, in his visitations; a very leading man in all county affairs, and much employed in public business. He set on foot a subscription for erecting chimes in their steeple, and completed it, and we heard them play. He found out an easy method of saving their village meadows from being drowned, as they used to be sometimes by the river, which method is still in being. When first proposed, nobody could conceive how it could be; but however, they said, if Franklin says he knows how to do it, it will be done. His advice and opinion was sought for on all occasions, by all sorts of people, and he was looked upon, she said, by some as something of a conjurer. He died just four months before I was born.
THE BEST ROOM IN THE HOUSE IS CHARITY
While there, I came across a little book called None but Christ, presented by an old uncle Josiah to his daughter Jane. I sent the following poem from the book to my sister Jane, which for namesake’s sake, as well as the good advice it contains, I transcribed:Illuminated from on high,
And shining brightly in your sphere
Ne’er faint, but keep a steady eye
Expecting endless pleasures there
Flee vice, as you’d a serpent flee,
Raise faith and hope three stories higher
And let Christ’s endless love to thee
Ne’er cease to make thy love aspire.
Kindness of heart by words express
Let your obedience be sincere,
In prayer and praise your God address
Ne’er cease ‘til he can cease to hear.
After professing truly that I have a great esteem and veneration for the pious author, permit me a little to play the commentator and critic on these lines. Faith, hope and charity have been called the three steps of Jacob’s ladder, reaching from Earth to Heaven. The Author calls them stories, likening religion to a building, and those the three stories of the Christian edifice. Faith is then the groundfloor, hope is up one pair of stairs. My advice: Don’t delight so much to dwell in these lower rooms, but get as fast as you can into the garret ; for in truth the best room in the house is charity. For my part, I wish the house was turn’d upside down; ’tis so difficult (when one is fat) to get up stairs; and not only so, but I imagine hope and faith may be more firmly built on charity, than charity upon faith and hope. However that be, I think it is better reading to say “Raise faith and hope one story higher.” Correct it boldly and I’ll support the alteration. For when you are up two stories already, if you raise your building three stories higher, you will make five in all, which is two more than there should be; you expose your upper rooms to the winds and storms; and besides I am afraid the foundation will hardly bear them, unless indeed you build with such light stuff as straw and stubble, and that, you know, won’t stand fire.
Again where the author says “Kindness of heart by words express,” strike out words and put in deeds. The world is too full of compliments already; they are the rank growth of every soil, and choke the good plants of Benevolence. Nor do I pretend to be the first in this comparison of words and actions to plants; an ancient poet whose words we have all studied and copy’d at school, said long ago,A man of words and not of deeds,
Is like a garden full of weeds.
Tis pity that good works among some sorts of people are so little valued, and good words admired in their stead; I mean seemingly pious discourses instead of humane benevolent actions. These they almost put out of countenance, by calling morality rotten morality, righteousness, ragged righteousness and even filthy rags; and when you mention virtue, they pucker up their noses as if they smelt a stink; at the same time they eagerly snuff up an empty canting harangue, as if it was a posey of the choicest flowers. So they have inverted the good old verse, and say nowA man of deeds and not of words
Is like a garden full of—
I have forgot the rhyme, but remember ’tis something the very reverse of a perfume.
MY FAVORITE COUNTRY
No part of our journey afforded us a more pleasing remembrance than Scotland. The many civilities, favours and kindnesses heap’d upon us while we were there made the most lasting impressions on our minds, and have endeared that country to us beyond express. On the whole, I must say, I think the time we spent there, was six weeks of the densest happiness I have met with in any part of my life. And the agreeable and instructive society we found there in such plenty, has left so pleasing an impression on my memory that did not strong connections draw me elsewhere, I believe Scotland would be the country I should choose to spend the remainder of my days in.
The following February I was honoured to receive a Doctorate of Laws from the University of St. Andrews at Edinburgh, the oldest university in Scotland, for my inventions and experiments in electricity, and another Doctorate of Civil Law from Oxford University in 1762 that was conferred the summer following.24
THE JUNTO: I FIND I LOVE COMPANY
Returning to London, I was grieved to learn that two of the former members of the Junto25 had departed this life, Stephen Potts and William Parsons. Odd characters, both of them. Parsons, a wise man, that often acted foolishly; Potts, a wit, that seldom acted wisely. If enough were the means to make a man happy, one had always t
he means of happiness without ever enjoying the thing; the other had always the thing without ever possessing the means. Parsons, even in his prosperity, always fretting! Potts, in the midst of his poverty, ever laughing! It seems, then, that happiness in this life rather depends on internals than externals; and that, besides the natural effects of wisdom and virtue, vice and folly, there is such a thing as being of a happy or an unhappy constitution. They were both friends, and lov’d us. They had their virtues as well as their foibles; they were both honest men, and that alone, as the world goes, is one of the greatest of characters. They were old acquaintances, in whose company I formerly enjoy’d a great deal of pleasure, and I cannot think of losing them, without concern and regret. For my own part, I find I love company, chat, a laugh, a glass, and even a song, as well as ever; and at the same time relish better than I us’d to do, the grave observations and wise sentences of old men’s conversations. Death begins to make breaches in the little Junto of old friends, and it must be expected he will soon pick us all off one after another. I therefore have always hoped that it would not be discontinued as long as we are able to crawl together. Loss of friends and near and dear relatives, is one of the taxes we pay for the advantage of long life, and a heavy tax it is!
UNSIZABLE SUBJECTS AND INSUFFICIENT LORDS
In April 1759, it gave me great pleasure to learn that the bill taxing the proprietary estate would pass. A few months later a book relating to the affairs of Pennsylvania was published.26 In it the author wrote: “And who or what are these proprietaries? In the province, unsizable subjects and insufficient lords. At home, gentlemen it is true, but gentlemen so very private that in the herd of gentry they are hardly to be found; not in court, not in office, not in Parliament.” The proprietor Mr. Penn was enrag’d. When I met him anywhere there appeared in his wretched countenance a strange mixture of hatred, anger, fear, and vexation. He supposed me to be the author, but was mistaken. I had no hand in it. I look’d over the manuscript, but was not permitted to alter every thing I did not fully approve. And, upon the whole, I think it was a work that was of good use in England, by giving the Parliament and Ministry a clearer knowledge and truer notion of our disputes; and of lasting use in Pennsylvania as it afforded a close and connected view of our public affairs. On these accounts, I agreed to encourage the publication by engaging for the expense.
PERFECTING A NEW MUSICAL INSTRUMENT CALLED THE ARMONICA
After my chief business was over, I amus’d myself with the contriving and bringing to a considerable degree of perfection a new musical instrument, which has afforded me and my friends a great deal of pleasure. As it is an instrument that seems peculiarly adapted to Italian music, especially that of the soft and plaintive kind, I have called it the Armonica. This instrument is played upon, by sitting before the middle of the set of glasses as before the keys of a harpsichord, turning them with the foot, and wetting them now and then with a sponge and clean water. The fingers should first be a little soaked in water and quite free from all greasiness; a little fine chalk upon them is sometimes useful, to make them catch the glass and bring out the tone more readily. Both hands are used, by which means different parts are played together. The advantages of the instrument are that its tones are incomparably sweet beyond those of any other; that they may be swelled and softened at pleasure by stronger or weaker pressures of the finger, and continued to any length; and that the instrument, being once well tuned, never again wants tuning.
I SAW NO SIGNS OF GOD’S JUDGMENTS
From the summer of 1761 ’til toward the end of September, I took the opportunity of the vacation of business in the public office in London, to make a tour of Holland and Flanders with my son. When I travelled in Flanders I thought of the excessively strict observation of Sunday in Connecticut; and that a man could hardly travel on that day without hazard of punishment; while where I was in Flanders, every one travell’d, if he pleas’d, or diverted himself any other way; and in the afternoon both high and low went to the play or the opera, where there was plenty of singing, fiddling and dancing. I look’d round for God’s judgments but saw no signs of them. The cities were well built and full of inhabitants, the markets fill’d with plenty, the people well favour’d and well clothed; the fields well till’d; the cattle fat and strong; the fences, houses and windows all in repair; and no Old Tenor anywhere in the country; which would almost make one suspect that the Deity is not so angry at that offence as a New England justice.
Having seen almost all the principal places and things worth notice in these two countries, we returned to London, arriving in time to witness the Coronation of the new King. My business being compleat, I made plans to return home to Philadelphia. I nevertheless regretted extremely the leaving of a country in which I receiv’d so much friendship, and friends whose conversations were so agreeable and so improving to me.
THE FUTURE GRANDEUR AND STABILITY OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE LIE IN AMERICA
And thus in the summer of 1762, I departed the old world for the new, leaving Billy behind a little longer. I fancied a little like dying saints who part with those they love in this world: grief at the parting; fear of the passage; hope of the future. I had in America connections of the most engaging kind, and happy as I had been in the friendships contracted in this happy island, those in America promised me greater and more lasting felicity. I have long been of the opinion that the foundations of the future grandeur and stability of the British Empire lie in America; and though, like other foundations, they are low and little seen, they are nevertheless broad and strong enough to support the greatest political structure human wisdom ever yet erected.
Chapter Two
My Return to Philadelphia, 1762–64
A PLEASANT PASSAGE TO AMERICA
I left England about the end of August 1762, in company with ten sail of merchant ships under convoy of a Man of War to protect us against the French.27 We had a pleasant passage to Madeira, an island and colony belonging to Portugal, where we were kindly receiv’d and entertain’d, our nation being then in high honour with them on account of the protection it was at that time affording their Mother Country from the united invasions of France and Spain. ’Tis a fertile island, and the different heights and situations among its mountains afford such different temperaments of air that all the fruits of Northern and Southern countries are produc’d there—corn, grapes, apples, peaches, oranges, lemons, plantains, bananas, &c. Here we furnish’d ourselves with fresh provisions and refreshments of all kinds, and after a few days proceeded on our voyage, running southward till we got into the trade winds, and then with them westward till we drew near the coast of America. The weather was so favorable, that there were few days in which we could not visit from ship to ship, dining with each other and on board the Man of War, which made the time pass agreeably, much more so than when one goes in a single ship, for this was like traveling in a moving village, with all one’s neighbours about one. The reason of our being so long at sea was that, sailing with a convoy, we could none of us go faster than the slowest, being oblig’d every day to shorten sail or lay by till they came up; this was the only inconvenience of our having company, which was abundantly made up to us by the sense of greater security, the mutual good offices daily exchanged, and the other pleasures of society.
On the first of November, I arriv’d safe and well at my own house, after an absence of near six years, and found my wife and daughter perfectly well, the latter grown quite a woman, with many amiable accomplishments acquir’d in my absence. I had the pleasure to find all false that Dr. William Smith had reported about the diminution of my friends, who were as hearty and affectionate as ever. My house was fill’d with a succession of them from morning to night ever since I landed to congratulate me on my return; and I never experience’d greater cordiality among them.
THE EXPENSE OF LIVING WAS GREATLY ADVANC’D IN AMERICA
I found the city of Philadelphia greatly increas’d in building, and they said it was so in numbers of
inhabitants. But to me the streets seemed thinner of people, owing perhaps to my being so long accustom’d to the bustling crowded streets of London. The expense of living was greatly advanc’d in my absence; it was more than double in most articles; and in some ’twas treble. This was by some ascrib’d to the scarcity of labourers and thence the dearness of labour; but I think the dearness of labour, as well as of other things such as rent of old houses, and value of lands, which are trebled in the last six years, are in great measure owing to the enormous plenty of money among us. There is such an over proportion of money to the demand for a medium of trade in these countries that it seems from plenty to have lost much of its value.
I also found notorious the number of taverns, alehouses and dramshops that increased beyond all measure or necessity in Pennsylvania. They were placed so near to each other that they ruined one another; and two thirds of them were not merely useless, but had become a pest to society. Very few of them were able to provide the necessary conveniences for entertaining travellers, or accommodating the people either in country or city; and this was entirely owing to that weak policy in a former Assembly, of making it the interest of a governor to encourage and promote immorality and vice among the people. Many bills had been presented to the late governors, to lessen the number, and to regulate those nurseries of idleness and debauchery, but without success.
The Compleated Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin (1757-1790) Page 4