The Complete Works in Philosophy, Politics and Morals of the late Dr. Benjamin Franklin, Vol. 3 [of 3] · Benjamin Franklin
M. POR. CAT. IN SALUST.
It is said, the wise Italians make this proverbial remark on our nation, viz. The English _feel_, but they do not _see_. That is, they are sensible of inconveniences when they are present, but do not take sufficient care to prevent them: their natural courage makes them too little apprehensive of danger, so that they are often surprised by it, unprovided of the proper means of security. When it is too late, they are sensible of their imprudence: after great fires, they provide buckets and engines: after a pestilence, they think of keeping clean their streets and common sewers: and when a town has been sacked by their enemies, they provide for its defence, &c. This kind of _after-wisdom_ is indeed so common with us, as to occasion the vulgar, though very insignificant saying, _When the steed is stolen, you shut the stable door_. But the more insensible we generally are of public danger and indifferent when warned of it, so much the more freely, openly, and earnestly, ought such as apprehend it to speak their sentiments; that, if possible, those who seem to sleep may be awakened, to think of some means of avoiding or preventing the mischief, before it be too late. Believing therefore, that it is my _duty_, I shall honestly speak my mind in the following paper.
War, at this time, rages over a great part of the known world; our newspapers are weekly filled with fresh accounts of the destruction it every where occasions. Pensylvania, indeed, situate in the centre of the colonies, has hitherto enjoyed profound repose; and though our nation is engaged in a bloody war, with two great and powerful kingdoms, yet, defended, in a great degree, from the French, on the one hand, by the northern provinces, and from the Spaniards, on the other, by the southern, at no small expence to each, our people have, till lately, slept securely in their habitations. There is no British colony, excepting this, but has made some kind of provision for its defence; many of them have therefore never been attempted by an enemy; and others, that were attacked, have generally defended themselves with success. The length and difficulty of our bay and river have been thought so effectual a security to us, that hitherto no means have been entered into, that might discourage an attempt upon us, or prevent its succeeding.
But whatever security this might have been while both country and city were poor, and the advantage to be expected scarce worth the hazard of an attempt, it is now doubted, whether we can any longer safely depend upon it. Our wealth, of late years much encreased, is one strong temptation, our defenceless state another, to induce an enemy to attack us; while the acquaintance they have lately gained with our Bay and river, by means of the prisoners and flags of truce they have had among us; by spies which they almost every where maintain, and perhaps from traitors among ourselves; with the facility of getting pilots to conduct them; and the known absence of ships of war, during the greatest part of the year, from both Virginia and New York, ever since the war began, render the appearance of success to the enemy far more promising, and therefore highly encrease our danger.
That our enemies may have spies abroad, and some even in these colonies, will not be made much doubt of, when it is considered, that such has been the practice of all nations in all ages, whenever they were engaged, or intended to engage, in war. Of this we have an early example in the book of Judges (too pertinent to our case, and therefore I must beg leave a little to enlarge upon it) where we are told, _Chap._ xviii, v. 2. That _the children of Dan sent of their family five men from their coasts to spie out the land, and search it, saying, Go, search the land_. These Danites it seems were at this time not very orthodox in their religion, and their spies met with a certain idolatrous priest of their own persuasion, v. 3, and they said to him, _Who brought thee hither? What makest thou in this place? And what hast thou here?_ [Would to God no such priests were to be found among us].
And they said unto him, v. 5. _Ask counsel of God, that we may know, whether our way which we go shall be prosperous: and the priest said unto them, Go in peace; before the Lord is your way wherein you go._ [Are there no priests among us, think you, that might, in the like case, give an enemy as good encouragement? It is well known, that we have numbers of the same religion with those, who of late encouraged the French to invade our Mother Country.] _And they came_, verse 7, _to Laish, and saw the people that were therein, how they dwelt_ CARELESS, _after the manner of the Zidonians_, QUIET _and_ SECURE. They _thought_ themselves secure, no doubt; and as they _never had been_ disturbed, vainly imagined they _never should_. It is not unlikely, that some might see the danger they were exposed to by living in that _careless_ manner; but that, if these publicly expressed their apprehensions, the rest reproached them as timorous persons, wanting courage or confidence in their gods, who (they might say) had hitherto protected them. But the spies, verse 8, returned, and said to their countrymen, verse 9, _Arise, that we may go up against them; for we have seen the land, and behold it is very good! And are ye still?
Be not slothful to go._ Verse 10, _when ye go, ye shall come to a people_ SECURE; [that is, a people that apprehend no danger, and therefore have made no provision against it; great encouragement this!] _and to a large land, and a place where there is no want of any thing_. What could they desire more? Accordingly we find, in the following verses, that _six hundred men_ only, _appointed with weapons of war_, undertook the conquest of this _large land_; knowing that 600 men, armed and disciplined, would be an over-match perhaps for 60,000, unarmed, undisciplined, and off their guard. And when they went against it, the idolatrous priest, verse 17, _with his graven image, and his ephod, and his seraphim, and his molten image_, [plenty of superstitious trinkets] joined with them, and, no doubt, gave them all the intelligence and assistance in his power; his heart, as the text assures us, _being glad_, perhaps for reasons more than one. And now, what was the fate of poor Laish! The 600 men being arrived, found, as the spies had reported, a people QUIET and SECURE, verse 20, 21, _And they smote them with the edge of the sword, and burnt the city with_ FIRE; _and there was no_ DELIVERER, _because it was far from Zidon_.--Not so far from Zidon, however, as Pensylvania is from Britain; and yet we are, if possible, more _careless_ than the people of Laish! As the scriptures are given for our reproof, instruction and warning, may we make a due use of this example, before it be too late!
And is our _country_, any more than our city, altogether free from danger? Perhaps not. We have, it is true, had a long peace with the Indians: but it is a long peace indeed, as well as a long lane, that has no ending. The French know the power and importance of the Six Nations, and spare no artifice, pains or expence, to gain them to their interest. By their priests they have converted many to their religion, and these[198] have openly espoused their cause. The rest appear irresolute what part to take; no persuasions, though enforced with costly presents, having yet been able to engage them generally on our side, though we had numerous forces on their borders, ready to second and support them. What then may be expected, now those forces are, by orders from the crown, to be disbanded, when our boasted expedition is laid aside, through want (as it may appear to them) either of strength or courage; when they see, that the French and their Indians, boldly, and with impunity, ravage the frontiers of New York, and scalp the inhabitants; when those few Indians, that engaged with us against the French, are left exposed to their resentment: when they consider these things, is there no danger that, through disgust at our usage, joined with fear of the French power, and greater confidence in their promises and protection than in ours, they may be wholly gained over by our enemies, and join in the war against us? If such should be the case, which God forbid, how soon may the mischief spread to our frontier countries? And what may we expect to be the consequence, but desertion of plantations, ruin, bloodshed and confusion!
Perhaps some in the city, towns, and plantations near the river, may say to themselves, "An Indian war on the frontiers will not affect us; the enemy will never come near our habitations; let those concerned take care of themselves." And others who live in the country, when they are told of the danger the city is in from attempts by sea, may say, "What is that to us? The enemy will be satisfied with the plunder of the town, and never think it worth his while to visit our plantations: let the town take care of itself."--These are not mere suppositions, for I have heard some talk in this strange manner. But are these the sentiments of true Pensylvanians, of fellow-countrymen, or even of men, that have common sense or goodness? Is not the whole province one body, united by living under the same laws, and enjoying the same privileges? Are not the people of city and country connected as relations, both by blood and marriage, and in friendships equally dear? Are they not likewise united in interest, and mutually useful and necessary to each other? When the feet are wounded, shall the head say, it is not me; I will not trouble myself to contrive relief! Or if the head is in danger, shall the hands say, we are not affected, and therefore will lend no assistance! No. For so would the body be easily destroyed: but when all parts join their endeavours for its security, it is often preserved. And such should be the union between the country and the town; and such their mutual endeavours for the safety of the whole. When New England, a distant colony, involved itself in a grievous debt to reduce Cape Breton, we freely gave four thousand pounds for _their_ relief. And at another time, remembering that Great Britain, still more distant, groaned under heavy taxes in supporting the war, we threw in our mite to their assistance, by a free gift of three thousand pounds: and shall country and town join in helping strangers (as those comparatively are) and yet refuse to assist each other?
But whatever different opinions we have of our security in other respects, our TRADE, all seem to agree, is in danger of being ruined in another year. The great success of our enemies, in two different cruizes this last summer in our bay, must give them the greatest encouragement to repeat more frequently their visits, the profit being almost certain, and the risk next to nothing. Will not the first effect of this be, an enhancing of the price of all foreign goods to the tradesman and farmer, who use or consume them? For the rate of insurance will increase, in proportion to the hazard of importing them; and in the same proportion will the price of those goods increase. If the price of the tradesman's work, and the farmer's produce, would increase equally with the price of foreign commodities, the damage would not be so great: but the direct contrary must happen. For the same hazard or rate of insurance, that raises the price of what is imported, must be deducted out of, and lower the price of what is exported.
Without this addition and deduction, as long as the enemy cruize at our capes, and take those vessels that attempt to _go out_, as well as those that endeavour to _come in_, none can afford to trade, and business must be soon at a stand. And will not the consequences be, a discouragement of many of the vessels that used to come from other places to purchase our produce, and thereby a turning of the trade to ports that can be entered with less danger, and capable of furnishing them with the same commodities, as New York, &c.; a lessening of business to every shopkeeper, together with multitudes of bad debts, the high rate of goods discouraging the buyers, and the low rates of their labour and produce, rendering them unable to pay for what they had bought; loss of employment to the tradesman, and bad pay for what little he does; and lastly, loss of many inhabitants, who will retire to other provinces not subject to the like inconveniences; whence a lowering of the value of lands, lots, and houses.
The enemy, no doubt, have been told, that the people of Pensylvania are Quakers, and against all defence, from a principle of conscience; this, though true of a part, and that a small part only of the inhabitants, is commonly said of the whole; and what may make it look probable to strangers is, that in fact, nothing is done by any part of the people towards their defence. But to refuse defending one's self, or one's country, is so unusual a thing among mankind, that possibly they may not believe it, till by experience, they find they can come higher and higher up our river, seize our vessels, land and plunder our plantations and villages, and retire with their booty unmolested. Will not this confirm the report, and give them the greatest encouragement to strike one bold stroke for the city, and for the whole plunder of the river?
It is said by some, that the expence of a vessel, to guard our trade, would be very heavy, greater than perhaps all the enemy can be supposed to take from us at sea would amount to; and that it would be cheaper for the government to open an insurance office, and pay all losses. But is this right reasoning? I think not; for what the enemy takes is clear loss to us, and gain to him; increasing his riches and strength, as much as it diminishes ours, so making the difference double; whereas the money, paid our own tradesmen for building and fitting out a vessel of defence, remains in the country, and circulates among us; what is paid to the officers and seamen, that navigate her, is also spent ashore, and soon gets into other hands; the farmer receives the money for her provisions, and, on the whole, nothing is clearly lost to the country but her wear and tear, or so much as she sells for at the end of the war less than her first cost. This loss, and a trifling one it is, is all the inconvenience; but how many and how great are the conveniences and advantages! and should the enemy, through our supineness and neglect to provide for the defence both of our trade and country, be encouraged to attempt this city, and after plundering us of our goods, either _burn it_, or put it to ransom, how great would that loss be! besides the confusion, terror, and distress, so many hundreds of families would be involved in!
The thought of this latter circumstance so much affects me, that I cannot forbear expatiating somewhat more upon it. You have, my dear countrymen and fellow citizens, riches to tempt a considerable force to unite and attack you, but are under no ties or engagements to unite for your defence. Hence, on the first alarm, _terror_ will spread over all; and as no man can with certainty depend that another will stand by him, beyond doubt very many will seek safety by a speedy flight. Those, that are reputed rich, will flee, through fear of torture, to make them produce more than they are able. The man, that has a wife and children, will find them hanging on his neck, beseeching him with tears to quit the city, and save his life, to guide and protect them in that time of general desolation and ruin. All will run into confusion, amidst cries and lamentations, and the hurry and disorder of departers, carrying away their effects. The few that remain will be unable to resist. _Sacking_ the city will be the first, and _burning_ it, in all probability, the last act of the enemy. This, I believe, will be the case, if you have timely notice. But what must be your condition, if suddenly surprized, without previous alarm, perhaps in the night! Confined to your houses, you will have nothing to trust to but the enemy's mercy. Your best fortune will be, to fall under the power of commanders of king's ships, able to controul the mariners; and not into the hands of _licentious privateers_. Who can, without the utmost horror, conceive the miseries of the latter! when your persons, fortunes, wives, and daughters, shall be subject to the wanton and unbridled rage, rapine, and lust, of negroes, mulattoes, and others, the vilest and most abandoned of mankind[199]. A dreadful scene! which some may represent as exaggerated. I think it my duty to warn you: judge for yourselves.
It is true, with very little notice, the rich may shift for themselves. The means of speedy flight are ready in their hands; and with some previous care to lodge money and effects in distant and secure places, though they should lose much, yet enough may be left them, and to spare. But most unhappily circumstanced indeed are we, the middling people, the tradesmen, shopkeepers, and farmers of this province and city! We cannot all fly with our families; and if we could, how shall we subsist? No; we and they, and what little we have gained by hard labour and industry, must bear the brunt: the weight of contributions, extorted by the enemy (as it is of taxes among ourselves) must be surely borne by us. Nor can it be avoided, as we stand at present; for though we are numerous, we are quite defenceless, having neither forts, arms, union, nor discipline. And though it were true, that our trade might be protected at no great expence, and our country and our city easily defended, if proper measures were but taken; yet, who shall take these measures? Who shall pay that expence? On whom may we fix our eyes with the least expectation, that they will do any thing for our security?
Should we address that wealthy and powerful body of people, who have ever since the war governed our elections, and filled almost every seat in our assembly; should we intreat them to consider, if not as friends, at least as legislators, that _protection_ is as truly due from the government to the people, as _obedience_ from the people to the government; and that if, on account of their religious scruples, they themselves could do no act for our defence, yet they might retire, relinquish their power for a season, quit the helm to freer hands during the present tempest, to hands, chosen by their own interest too, whose prudence and moderation, with regard to them, they might safely confide in; secure, from their own native strength, of resuming again their present station, whenever it shall please them: should we remind them, that the public money, raised _from all_, belongs _to all_; that since they have, for their own ease, and to secure themselves in the quiet enjoyment of their religious principles (and may they long enjoy them) expended such large sums to oppose petitions, and engage favourable representations of their conduct, if they themselves could by no means be free to appropriate any part of the public money for our defence; yet it would be no more than justice, to spare us a reasonable sum for that purpose, which they might easily give to the king's use as heretofore, leaving all the appropriation to others, who would faithfully apply it as we desired: should we tell them, that though the treasury be at present empty, it may soon be filled by the outstanding public debts collected; or at least credit might be had for such a sum, on a single vote of the assembly: that though _they_ themselves may be resigned and easy under this naked, defenceless state of the country, it is far otherwise with a very great part of the people; with _us_, who can have no confidence that God will protect those, that neglect the use of rational means for their security; nor have any reason to hope, that our losses, if we should suffer any, may be made up by collections in our favour at home.
Should we conjure them by all the ties of neighbourhood, friendship, justice, and humanity, to consider these things; and what distraction, misery, and confusion, what desolation and distress, may possibly be the effect of their _unseasonable_ predominancy and perseverance; yet all would be in vain: for they have already been, by great numbers of the people, petitioned in vain. Our late governor did for years solicit, request, and even threaten them in vain. The council have since twice remonstrated to them in vain. Their religious prepossessions are unchangeable, their obstinacy invincible. Is there then the least hope remaining, that from that quarter any thing should arise for our security? And is our prospect better, if we turn our eyes to the strength of the opposite party, those great and rich men, merchants and others, who are ever railing at Quakers for doing what their principles seem to require, and what in charity we ought to believe they think their duty, but take no one step themselves for the public safety. They have so much wealth and influence, if they would use it, that they might easily, by their endeavours and example, raise a military spirit among us, make us fond, studious of, and expert in, martial discipline, and affect every thing that is necessary, under God, for our protection. But _envy_ seems to have taken possession of their hearts, and to have eaten out and destroyed every generous, noble, public-spirited sentiment. _Rage_ at the disappointment of their little schemes for power, gnaws their souls, and fills them with such cordial hatred to their opponents, that every proposal, by the execution of which _those_ may receive benefit as well as themselves, is rejected with indignation. "What," say they, "shall we lay out our money to protect the trade of Quakers? Shall we fight to defend Quakers? No; let the trade perish, and the city burn; let what will happen, we shall never lift a finger to prevent it."
Yet the Quakers have _conscience_ to plead for their resolution not to fight, which these gentlemen have not. Conscience with you, gentlemen, is on the other side of the question: conscience enjoins it as a _duty_ on you (and indeed I think it such on every man) to defend your country, your friends, your aged parents, your wives, and helpless children: and yet you resolve not to perform this duty, but act contrary to your own consciences, because the Quakers act according to theirs. Till of late, I could scarce believe the story of him, who refused to pump in a sinking ship, because one on board, whom he hated, would be saved by it as well as himself. But such, it seems, is the unhappiness of human nature, that our passions, when violent, often are too hard for the united force of reason, duty, and religion.
Ideas discussed in this chapter
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