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The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES EDITED BY CHARLES W ELIOT LLD P F COLLIER
& SON COMPANY, NEW YORK (1909)
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN was born in Milk Street, Boston, on January 6, 1706.
His father, Josiah Franklin, was a tallow chandler who married twice,
and of his seventeen children Benjamin was the youngest son. His
schooling ended at ten, and at twelve he was bound apprentice to his
brother James, a printer, who published the "New England Courant." To
this journal he became a contributor, and later was for a time its
nominal editor. But the brothers quarreled, and Benjamin ran away,
going first to New York, and thence to Philadelphia, where he arrived
in October, 1723. He soon obtained work as a printer, but after a few
months he was induced by Governor Keith to go to London, where,
finding Keith's promises empty, he again worked as a compositor till
he was brought back to Philadelphia by a merchant named Denman, who
gave him a position in his business. On Denman's death he returned to
his former trade, and shortly set up a printing house of his own from
which he published "The Pennsylvania Gazette," to which he contributed
many essays, and which he made a medium for agitating a variety of
local reforms. In 1732 he began to issue his famous "Poor Richard's
Almanac" for the enrichment of which he borrowed or composed those
pithy utterances of worldly wisdom which are the basis of a large part
of his popular reputation. In 1758, the year in which he ceases
writing for the Almanac, he printed in it "Father Abraham's Sermon,"
now regarded as the most famous piece of literature produced in
Colonial America.
Meantime Franklin was concerning himself more and more with public
affairs. He set forth a scheme for an Academy, which was taken up
later and finally developed into the University of Pennsylvania; and
he founded an "American Philosophical Society" for the purpose of
enabling scientific men to communicate their discoveries to one
another. He himself had already begun his electrical researches,
which, with other scientific inquiries, he called on in the intervals
of money-making and politics to the end of his life. In 1748 he sold
his business in order to get leisure for study, having now acquired
comparative wealth; and in a few years he had made discoveries that
gave him a reputation with the learned throughout Europe. In politics
he proved very able both as an administrator and as a
controversialist; but his record as an office-holder is stained by the
use he made of his position to advance his relatives. His most
notable service in home politics was his reform of the postal system;
but his fame as a statesman rests chiefly on his services in
connection with the relations of the Colonies with Great Britain, and
later with France. In 1757 he was sent to England to protest against
the influence of the Penns in the government of the colony, and for
five years he remained there, striving to enlighten the people and the
ministry of England as to Colonial conditions. On his return to
America he played an honorable part in the Paxton affair, through
which he lost his seat in the Assembly; but in 1764 he was again
despatched to England as agent for the colony, this time to petition
the King to resume the government from the hands of the proprietors.
In London he actively opposed the proposed Stamp Act, but lost the
credit for this and much of his popularity through his securing for a
friend the office of stamp agent in America. Even his effective work
in helping to obtain the repeal of the act left him still a suspect;
but he continued his efforts to present the case for the Colonies as
the troubles thickened toward the crisis of the Revolution. In 1767 he
crossed to France, where he was received with honor; but before his
return home in 1775 he lost his position as postmaster through his
share in divulging to Massachusetts the famous letter of Hutchinson
and Oliver. On his arrival in Philadelphia he was chosen a member of
the Continental Congress and in 1777 he was despatched to France as
commissioner for the United States. Here he remained till 1785, the
favorite of French society; and with such success did he conduct the
affairs of his country that when he finally returned he received a
place only second to that of Washington as the champion of American
independence. He died on April 17, 1790.
The first five chapters of the Autobiography were composed in England
in 1771, continued in 1784-5, and again in 1788, at which date he
brought it down to 1757. After a most extraordinary series of
adventures, the original form of the manuscript was finally printed by
Mr. John Bigelow, and is here reproduced in recognition of its value
as a picture of one of the most notable personalities of Colonial
times, and of its acknowledged rank as one of the great
autobiographies of the world.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY 1706-1757
TWYFORD, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's, 1771.
The country-seat of Bishop Shipley, the good bishop, as Dr. Franklin
used to style him.--B.
DEAR SON: I have ever had pleasure in obtaining any little anecdotes
of my ancestors. You may remember the inquiries I made among the
remains of my relations when you were with me in England, and the
journey I undertook for that purpose. Imagining it may be equally
agreeable to you to know the circumstances of my life, many of which
you are yet unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of a week's
uninterrupted leisure in my present country retirement, I sit down to
write them for you. To which I have besides some other inducements.
Having emerged from the poverty and obscurity in which I was born and
bred, to a state of affluence and some degree of reputation in the
world, and having gone so far through life with a considerable share
of felicity, the conducing means I made use of, which with the
blessing of God so well succeeded, my posterity may like to know, as
they may find some of them suitable to their own situations, and
therefore fit to be imitated.
After the words "agreeable to" the words "some of" were interlined and
afterward effaced.--B.
That felicity, when I reflected on it, has induced me sometimes to
say, that were it offered to my choice, I should have no objection to
a repetition of the same life from its beginning, only asking the
advantages authors have in a second edition to correct some faults of
the first. So I might, besides correcting the faults, change some
sinister accidents and events of it for others more favorable. But
though this were denied, I should still accept the offer. Since such a
repetition is not to be expected, the next thing most like living
one's life over again seems to be a recollection of that life, and to
make that recollection as durable as possible by putting it down in
writing.
Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination so natural in old men, to
be talking of themselves and their own past actions; and I shall
indulge it without being tiresome to others, who, through respect to
age, might conceive themselves obliged to give me a hearing, since
this may be read or not as any one pleases. And, lastly (I may as
well confess it, since my denial of it will be believed by nobody),
perhaps I shall a good deal gratify my own vanity. Indeed, I scarce
ever heard or saw the introductory words, "Without vanity I may say,"
&c., but some vain thing immediately followed. Most people dislike
vanity in others, whatever share they have of it themselves; but I
give it fair quarter wherever I meet with it, being persuaded that it
is often productive of good to the possessor, and to others that are
within his sphere of action; and therefore, in many cases, it would
not be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for his vanity
among the other comforts of life.
And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all humility to
acknowledge that I owe the mentioned happiness of my past life to His
kind providence, which lead me to the means I used and gave them
success. My belief of this induces me to hope, though I must not
presume, that the same goodness will still be exercised toward me, in
continuing that happiness, or enabling me to bear a fatal reverse,
which I may experience as others have done: the complexion of my
future fortune being known to Him only in whose power it is to bless
to us even our afflictions.
The notes one of my uncles (who had the same kind of curiosity in
collecting family anecdotes) once put into my hands, furnished me with
several particulars relating to our ancestors. From these notes I
learned that the family had lived in the same village, Ecton, in
Northamptonshire, for three hundred years, and how much longer he knew
not (perhaps from the time when the name of Franklin, that before was
the name of an order of people, was assumed by them as a surname when
others took surnames all over the kingdom), on a freehold of about
thirty acres, aided by the smith's business, which had continued in
the family till his time, the eldest son being always bred to that
business; a custom which he and my father followed as to their eldest
sons. When I searched the registers at Ecton, I found an account of
their births, marriages and burials from the year 1555 only, there
being no registers kept in that parish at any time preceding. By that
register I perceived that I was the youngest son of the youngest son
for five generations back. My grandfather Thomas, who was born in
1598, lived at Ecton till he grew too old to follow business longer,
when he went to live with his son John, a dyer at Banbury, in
Oxfordshire, with whom my father served an apprenticeship. There my
grandfather died and lies buried. We saw his gravestone in 1758. His
eldest son Thomas lived in the house at Ecton, and left it with the
land to his only child, a daughter, who, with her husband, one Fisher,
of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr. Isted, now lord of the manor there.
My grandfather had four sons that grew up, viz.: Thomas, John,
Benjamin and Josiah. I will give you what account I can of them, at
this distance from my papers, and if these are not lost in my absence,
you will among them find many more particulars.
Thomas was bred a smith under his father; but, being ingenious, and
encouraged in learning (as all my brothers were) by an Esquire Palmer,
then the principal gentleman in that parish, he qualified himself for
the business of scrivener; became a considerable man in the county;
was a chief mover of all public-spirited undertakings for the county
or town of Northampton, and his own village, of which many instances
were related of him; and much taken notice of and patronized by the
then Lord Halifax. He died in 1702, January 6, old style, just four
years to a day before I was born. The account we received of his life
and character from some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck you as
something extraordinary, from its similarity to what you knew of mine.
"Had he died on the same day," you said, "one might have supposed a
transmigration."
John was bred a dyer, I believe of woolens. Benjamin was bred a silk
dyer, serving an apprenticeship at London. He was an ingenious man. I
remember him well, for when I was a boy he came over to my father in
Boston, and lived in the house with us some years. He lived to a
great age. His grandson, Samuel Franklin, now lives in Boston. He
left behind him two quarto volumes, MS., of his own poetry, consisting
of little occasional pieces addressed to his friends and relations, of
which the following, sent to me, is a specimen. He had formed a
short-hand of his own, which he taught me, but, never practising it, I
have now forgot it. I was named after this uncle, there being a
particular affection between him and my father. He was very pious, a
great attender of sermons of the best preachers, which he took down in
his short-hand, and had with him many volumes of them. He was also
much of a politician; too much, perhaps, for his station. There fell
lately into my hands, in London, a collection he had made of all the
principal pamphlets, relating to public affairs, from 1641 to 1717;
many of the volumes are wanting as appears by the numbering, but there
still remain eight volumes in folio, and twenty-four in quarto and in
octavo. A dealer in old books met with them, and knowing me by my
sometimes buying of him, he brought them to me. It seems my uncle
must have left them here, when he went to America, which was about
fifty years since. There are many of his notes in the margins.
Here follow in the margin the words, in brackets, "here insert it,"
but the poetry is not given. Mr. Sparks informs us (Life of Franklin,
p. 6) that these volumes had been preserved, and were in possession of
Mrs. Emmons, of Boston, great-granddaughter of their author.
This obscure family of ours was early in the Reformation, and
continued Protestants through the reign of Queen Mary, when they were
sometimes in danger of trouble on account of their zeal against
popery. They had got an English Bible, and to conceal and secure it,
it was fastened open with tapes under and within the cover of a
joint-stool. When my great-great-grandfather read it to his family, he
turned up the joint-stool upon his knees, turning over the leaves then
under the tapes. One of the children stood at the door to give notice
if he saw the apparitor coming, who was an officer of the spiritual
court. In that case the stool was turned down again upon its feet,
when the Bible remained concealed under it as before. This anecdote I
had from my uncle Benjamin. The family continued all of the Church of
England till about the end of Charles the Second's reign, when some of
the ministers that had been outed for nonconformity holding
conventicles in Northamptonshire, Benjamin and Josiah adhered to them,
and so continued all their lives: the rest of the family remained with
the Episcopal Church.
Josiah, my father, married young, and carried his wife with three
children into New England, about 1682. The conventicles having been
forbidden by law, and frequently disturbed, induced some considerable
men of his acquaintance to remove to that country, and he was
prevailed with to accompany them thither, where they expected to enjoy
their mode of religion with freedom. By the same wife he had four
children more born there, and by a second wife ten more, in all
seventeen; of which I remember thirteen sitting at one time at his
table, who all grew up to be men and women, and married; I was the
youngest son, and the youngest child but two, and was born in Boston,
New England. My mother, the second wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter
of Peter Folger, one of the first settlers of New England, of whom
honorable mention is made by Cotton Mather in his church history of
that country, entitled Magnalia Christi Americana, as 'a godly,
learned Englishman," if I remember the words rightly. I have heard
that he wrote sundry small occasional pieces, but only one of them was
printed, which I saw now many years since. It was written in 1675, in
the home-spun verse of that time and people, and addressed to those
then concerned in the government there. It was in favor of liberty of
conscience, and in behalf of the Baptists, Quakers, and other
sectaries that had been under persecution, ascribing the Indian wars,
and other distresses that had befallen the country, to that
persecution, as so many judgments of God to punish so heinous an
offense, and exhorting a repeal of those uncharitable laws. The whole
appeared to me as written with a good deal of decent plainness and
manly freedom. The six concluding lines I remember, though I have
forgotten the two first of the stanza; but the purport of them was,
that his censures proceeded from good-will, and, therefore, he would
be known to be the author.
"Because to be a libeller (says he) I hate it with my heart; From
Sherburne town, where now I dwell My name I do put here; Without
offense your real friend, It is Peter Folgier."
My elder brothers were all put apprentices to different trades. I was
put to the grammar-school at eight years of age, my father intending
to devote me, as the tithe of his sons, to the service of the Church.
My early readiness in learning to read (which must have been very
early, as I do not remember when I could not read), and the opinion of
all his friends, that I should certainly make a good scholar,
encouraged him in this purpose of his. My uncle Benjamin, too,
approved of it, and proposed to give me all his short-hand volumes of
sermons, I suppose as a stock to set up with, if I would learn his
character. I continued, however, at the grammar-school not quite one
year, though in that time I had risen gradually from the middle of the
class of that year to be the head of it, and farther was removed into
the next class above it, in order to go with that into the third at
the end of the year. But my father, in the meantime, from a view of
the expense of a college education, which having so large a family he
could not well afford, and the mean living many so educated were
afterwards able to obtain--reasons that he gave to his friends in my
hearing--altered his first intention, took me from the grammar-school,
and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a then
famous man, Mr. George Brownell, very successful in his profession
generally, and that by mild, encouraging methods. Under him I
acquired fair writing pretty soon, but I failed in the arithmetic, and
made no progress in it. At ten years old I was taken home to assist my
father in his business, which was that of a tallow-chandler and
sope-boiler; a business he was not bred to, but had assumed on his
arrival in New England, and on finding his dying trade would not
maintain his family, being in little request. Accordingly, I was
employed in cutting wick for the candles, filling the dipping mold and
the molds for cast candles, attending the shop, going of errands, etc.
I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination for the sea, but my
father declared against it; however, living near the water, I was much
in and about it, learnt early to swim well, and to manage boats; and
when in a boat or canoe with other boys, I was commonly allowed to
govern, especially in any case of difficulty; and upon other occasions
I was generally a leader among the boys, and sometimes led them into
scrapes, of which I will mention one instance, as it shows an early
projecting public spirit, tho' not then justly conducted.
There was a salt-marsh that bounded part of the mill-pond, on the edge
of which, at high water, we used to stand to fish for minnows. By
much trampling, we had made it a mere quagmire. My proposal was to
build a wharff there fit for us to stand upon, and I showed my
comrades a large heap of stones, which were intended for a new house
near the marsh, and which would very well suit our purpose.
Accordingly, in the evening, when the workmen were gone, I assembled a
number of my play-fellows, and working with them diligently like so
many emmets, sometimes two or three to a stone, we brought them all
away and built our little wharff. The next morning the workmen were
surprised at missing the stones, which were found in our wharff.
Inquiry was made after the removers; we were discovered and complained
of; several of us were corrected by our fathers; and though I pleaded
the usefulness of the work, mine convinced me that nothing was useful
which was not honest.
I think you may like to know something of his person and character. He
had an excellent constitution of body, was of middle stature, but well
set, and very strong; he was ingenious, could draw prettily, was
skilled a little in music, and had a clear pleasing voice, so that
when he played psalm tunes on his violin and sung withal, as he
sometimes did in an evening after the business of the day was over, it
was extremely agreeable to hear. He had a mechanical genius too, and,
on occasion, was very handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools; but
his great excellence lay in a sound understanding and solid judgment
in prudential matters, both in private and publick affairs. In the
latter, indeed, he was never employed, the numerous family he had to
educate and the straitness of his circumstances keeping him close to
his trade; but I remember well his being frequently visited by leading
people, who consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the town or of
the church he belonged to, and showed a good deal of respect for his
judgment and advice: he was also much consulted by private persons
about their affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently
chosen an arbitrator between contending parties.
At his table he liked to have, as often as he could, some sensible
friend or neighbor to converse with, and always took care to start
some ingenious or useful topic for discourse, which might tend to
improve the minds of his children. By this means he turned our
attention to what was good, just, and prudent in the conduct of life;
and little or no notice was ever taken of what related to the victuals
on the table, whether it was well or ill dressed, in or out of season,
of good or bad flavor, preferable or inferior to this or that other
thing of the kind, so that I was bro't up in such a perfect
inattention to those matters as to be quite indifferent what kind of
food was set before me, and so unobservant of it, that to this day if
I am asked I can scarce tell a few hours after dinner what I dined
upon. This has been a convenience to me in travelling, where my
companions have been sometimes very unhappy for want of a suitable
gratification of their more delicate, because better instructed,
tastes and appetites.
My mother had likewise an excellent constitution: she suckled all her
ten children. I never knew either my father or mother to have any
sickness but that of which they dy'd, he at 89, and she at 85 years of
age. They lie buried together at Boston, where I some years since
placed a marble over their grave, with this inscription:
JOSIAH FRANKLIN, and ABIAH his Wife, lie here interred. They lived
lovingly together in wedlock fifty-five years. Without an estate, or
any gainful employment, By constant labor and industry, with God's
blessing, They maintained a large family comfortably, and brought up
thirteen children and seven grandchildren reputably. From this
instance, reader, Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling, And
distrust not Providence. He was a pious and prudent man; She, a
discreet and virtuous woman. Their youngest son, In filial regard to
their memory, Places this stone. J.F. born 1655, died 1744, AEtat 89.
A.F. born 1667, died 1752, ----- 95.
By my rambling digressions I perceive myself to be grown old. I us'd
to write more methodically. But one does not dress for private
company as for a publick ball. 'Tis perhaps only negligence.
To return: I continued thus employed in my father's business for two
years, that is, till I was twelve years old; and my brother John, who
was bred to that business, having left my father, married, and set up
for himself at Rhode Island, there was all appearance that I was
destined to supply his place, and become a tallow-chandler. But my
dislike to the trade continuing, my father was under apprehensions
that if he did not find one for me more agreeable, I should break away
and get to sea, as his son Josiah had done, to his great vexation. He
therefore sometimes took me to walk with him, and see joiners,
bricklayers, turners, braziers, etc., at their work, that he might
observe my inclination, and endeavor to fix it on some trade or other
on land. It has ever since been a pleasure to me to see good workmen
handle their tools; and it has been useful to me, having learnt so
much by it as to be able to do little jobs myself in my house when a
workman could not readily be got, and to construct little machines for
my experiments, while the intention of making the experiment was fresh
and warm in my mind. My father at last fixed upon the cutler's trade,
and my uncle Benjamin's son Samuel, who was bred to that business in
London, being about that time established in Boston, I was sent to be
with him some time on liking. But his expectations of a fee with me
displeasing my father, I was taken home again.
From a child I was fond of reading, and all the little money that came
into my hands was ever laid out in books. Pleased with the Pilgrim's
Progress, my first collection was of John Bunyan's works in separate
little volumes. I afterward sold them to enable me to buy R. Burton's
Historical Collections; they were small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40
or 50 in all. My father's little library consisted chiefly of books
in polemic divinity, most of which I read, and have since often
regretted that, at a time when I had such a thirst for knowledge, more
proper books had not fallen in my way since it was now resolved I
should not be a clergyman. Plutarch's Lives there was in which I read
abundantly, and I still think that time spent to great advantage.
There was also a book of De Foe's, called an Essay on Projects, and
another of Dr. Mather's, called Essays to do Good, which perhaps gave
me a turn of thinking that had an influence on some of the principal
future events of my life.
This bookish inclination at length determined my father to make me a
printer, though he had already one son (James) of that profession. In
1717 my brother James returned from England with a press and letters
to set up his business in Boston. I liked it much better than that of
my father, but still had a hankering for the sea. To prevent the
apprehended effect of such an inclination, my father was impatient to
have me bound to my brother. I stood out some time, but at last was
persuaded, and signed the indentures when I was yet but twelve years
old. I was to serve as an apprentice till I was twenty-one years of
age, only I was to be allowed journeyman's wages during the last year.
In a little time I made great proficiency in the business, and became
a useful hand to my brother. I now had access to better books. An
acquaintance with the apprentices of booksellers enabled me sometimes
to borrow a small one, which I was careful to return soon and clean.
Often I sat up in my room reading the greatest part of the night, when
the book was borrowed in the evening and to be returned early in the
morning, lest it should be missed or wanted.
And after some time an ingenious tradesman, Mr. Matthew Adams, who had
a pretty collection of books, and who frequented our printing-house,
took notice of me, invited me to his library, and very kindly lent me
such books as I chose to read. I now took a fancy to poetry, and made
some little pieces; my brother, thinking it might turn to account,
encouraged me, and put me on composing occasional ballads. One was
called The Lighthouse Tragedy, and contained an account of the
drowning of Captain Worthilake, with his two daughters: the other was
a sailor's song, on the taking of Teach (or Blackbeard) the pirate.
They were wretched stuff, in the Grub-street-ballad style; and when
they were printed he sent me about the town to sell them. The first
sold wonderfully, the event being recent, having made a great noise.
This flattered my vanity; but my father discouraged me by ridiculing
my performances, and telling me verse-makers were generally beggars.
So I escaped being a poet, most probably a very bad one; but as prose
writing bad been of great use to me in the course of my life, and was
a principal means of my advancement, I shall tell you how, in such a
situation, I acquired what little ability I have in that way.
There was another bookish lad in the town, John Collins by name, with
whom I was intimately acquainted. We sometimes disputed, and very
fond we were of argument, and very desirous of confuting one another,
which disputatious turn, by the way, is apt to become a very bad
habit, making people often extremely disagreeable in company by the
contradiction that is necessary to bring it into practice; and thence,
besides souring and spoiling the conversation, is productive of
disgusts and, perhaps enmities where you may have occasion for
friendship. I had caught it by reading my father's books of dispute
about religion. Persons of good sense, I have since observed, seldom
fall into it, except lawyers, university men, and men of all sorts
that have been bred at Edinborough.
A question was once, somehow or other, started between Collins and me,
of the propriety of educating the female sex in learning, and their
abilities for study. He was of opinion that it was improper, and that
they were naturally unequal to it. I took the contrary side, perhaps
a little for dispute's sake. He was naturally more eloquent, had a
ready plenty of words; and sometimes, as I thought, bore me down more
by his fluency than by the strength of his reasons. As we parted
without settling the point, and were not to see one another again for
some time, I sat down to put my arguments in writing, which I copied
fair and sent to him. He answered, and I replied. Three or four
letters of a side had passed, when my father happened to find my
papers and read them. Without entering into the discussion, he took
occasion to talk to me about the manner of my writing; observed that,
though I had the advantage of my antagonist in correct spelling and
pointing (which I ow'd to the printing-house), I fell far short in
elegance of expression, in method and in perspicuity, of which he
convinced me by several instances. I saw the justice of his remark,
and thence grew more attentive to the manner in writing, and
determined to endeavor at improvement.
About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spectator. It was the
third. I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, read it
over and over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writing
excellent, and wished, if possible, to imitate it. With this view I
took some of the papers, and, making short hints of the sentiment in
each sentence, laid them by a few days, and then, without looking at
the book, try'd to compleat the papers again, by expressing each
hinted sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed
before, in any suitable words that should come to hand. Then I
compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults,
and corrected them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a
readiness in recollecting and using them, which I thought I should
have acquired before that time if I had gone on making verses; since
the continual occasion for words of the same import, but of different
length, to suit the measure, or of different sound for the rhyme,
would have laid me under a constant necessity of searching for
variety, and also have tended to fix that variety in my mind, and make
me master of it. Therefore I took some of the tales and turned them
into verse; and, after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the
prose, turned them back again. I also sometimes jumbled my collections
of hints into confusion, and after some weeks endeavored to reduce
them into the best order, before I began to form the full sentences
and compleat the paper. This was to teach me method in the arrangement
of thoughts. By comparing my work afterwards with the original, I
discovered many faults and amended them; but I sometimes had the
pleasure of fancying that, in certain particulars of small import, I
had been lucky enough to improve the method or the language, and this
encouraged me to think I might possibly in time come to be a tolerable
English writer, of which I was extremely ambitious. My time for these
exercises and for reading was at night, after work or before it began
in the morning, or on Sundays, when I contrived to be in the
printing-house alone, evading as much as I could the common attendance
on public worship which my father used to exact on me when I was under
his care, and which indeed I still thought a duty, though I could not,
as it seemed to me, afford time to practise it.
When about 16 years of age I happened to meet with a book, written by
one Tryon, recommending a vegetable diet. I determined to go into it.
My brother, being yet unmarried, did not keep house, but boarded
himself and his apprentices in another family. My refusing to eat
flesh occasioned an inconveniency, and I was frequently chid for my
singularity. I made myself acquainted with Tryon's manner of
preparing some of his dishes, such as boiling potatoes or rice, making
hasty pudding, and a few others, and then proposed to my brother, that
if he would give me, weekly, half the money he paid for my board, I
would board myself. He instantly agreed to it, and I presently found
that I could save half what he paid me. This was an additional fund
for buying books. But I had another advantage in it. My brother and
the rest going from the printing-house to their meals, I remained
there alone, and, despatching presently my light repast, which often
was no more than a bisket or a slice of bread, a handful of raisins or
a tart from the pastry-cook's, and a glass of water, had the rest of
the time till their return for study, in which I made the greater
progress, from that greater clearness of head and quicker apprehension
which usually attend temperance in eating and drinking.
And now it was that, being on some occasion made asham'd of my
ignorance in figures, which I had twice failed in learning when at
school, I took Cocker's book of Arithmetick, and went through the
whole by myself with great ease. I also read Seller's and Shermy's
books of Navigation, and became acquainted with the little geometry
they contain; but never proceeded far in that science. And I read
about this time Locke On Human Understanding, and the Art of Thinking,
by Messrs. du Port Royal.
While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an English
grammar (I think it was Greenwood's), at the end of which there were
two little sketches of the arts of rhetoric and logic, the latter
finishing with a specimen of a dispute in the Socratic method; and
soon after I procur'd Xenophon's Memorable Things of Socrates, wherein
there are many instances of the same method. I was charm'd with it,
adopted it, dropt my abrupt contradiction and positive argumentation,
and put on the humble inquirer and doubter. And being then, from
reading Shaftesbury and Collins, become a real doubter in many points
of our religious doctrine, I found this method safest for myself and
very embarrassing to those against whom I used it; therefore I took a
delight in it, practis'd it continually, and grew very artful and
expert in drawing people, even of superior knowledge, into
concessions, the consequences of which they did not foresee,
entangling them in difficulties out of which they could not extricate
themselves, and so obtaining victories that neither myself nor my
cause always deserved. I continu'd this method some few years, but
gradually left it, retaining only the habit of expressing myself in
terms of modest diffidence; never using, when I advanced any thing
that may possibly be disputed, the words certainly, undoubtedly, or
any others that give the air of positiveness to an opinion; but rather
say, I conceive or apprehend a thing to be so and so; it appears to
me, or I should think it so or so, for such and such reasons; or I
imagine it to be so; or it is so, if I am not mistaken. This habit, I
believe, has been of great advantage to me when I have had occasion to
inculcate my opinions, and persuade men into measures that I have been
from time to time engag'd in promoting; and, as the chief ends of
conversation are to inform or to be informed, to please or to
persuade, I wish well-meaning, sensible men would not lessen their
power of doing good by a positive, assuming manner, that seldom fails
to disgust, tends to create opposition, and to defeat every one of
those purposes for which speech was given to us, to wit, giving or
receiving information or pleasure. For, if you would inform, a
positive and dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments may
provoke contradiction and prevent a candid attention. If you wish
information and improvement from the knowledge of others, and yet at
the same time express yourself as firmly fix'd in your present
opinions, modest, sensible men, who do not love disputation, will
probably leave you undisturbed in the possession of your error. And by
such a manner, you can seldom hope to recommend yourself in pleasing
your hearers, or to persuade those whose concurrence you desire. Pope
says, judiciously:
"Men should be taught as if you taught them not, And things unknown
propos'd as things forgot;"
farther recommending to us
"To speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence."
And he might have coupled with this line that which he has coupled
with another, I think, less properly,
"For want of modesty is want of sense."
If you ask, Why less properly? I must repeat the lines,
"Immodest words admit of no defense, For want of modesty is want of
sense."
Now, is not want of sense (where a man is so unfortunate as to want
it) some apology for his want of modesty? and would not the lines
stand more justly thus?
"Immodest words admit but this defense, That want of modesty is want
of sense."
This, however, I should submit to better judgments.
My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun to print a newspaper. It was
the second that appeared in America, and was called the New England
Courant. The only one before it was the Boston News-Letter. I
remember his being dissuaded by some of his friends from the
undertaking, as not likely to succeed, one newspaper being, in their
judgment, enough for America. At this time (1771) there are not less
than five-and-twenty. He went on, however, with the undertaking, and
after having worked in composing the types and printing off the
sheets, I was employed to carry the papers thro' the streets to the
customers.
He had some ingenious men among his friends, who amus'd themselves by
writing little pieces for this paper, which gain'd it credit and made
it more in demand, and these gentlemen often visited us. Hearing their
conversations, and their accounts of the approbation their papers were
received with, I was excited to try my hand among them; but, being
still a boy, and suspecting that my brother would object to printing
anything of mine in his paper if he knew it to be mine, I contrived to
disguise my hand, and, writing an anonymous paper, I put it in at
night under the door of the printing-house. It was found in the
morning, and communicated to his writing friends when they call'd in
as usual. They read it, commented on it in my hearing, and I had the
exquisite pleasure of finding it met with their approbation, and that,
in their different guesses at the author, none were named but men of
some character among us for learning and ingenuity. I suppose now that
I was rather lucky in my judges, and that perhaps they were not really
so very good ones as I then esteem'd them.
Encourag'd, however, by this, I wrote and convey'd in the same way to
the press several more papers which were equally approv'd; and I kept
my secret till my small fund of sense for such performances was pretty
well exhausted and then I discovered it, when I began to be considered
a little more by my brother's acquaintance, and in a manner that did
not quite please him, as he thought, probably with reason, that it
tended to make me too vain. And, perhaps, this might be one occasion
of the differences that we began to have about this time. Though a
brother, he considered himself as my master, and me as his apprentice,
and accordingly, expected the same services from me as he would from
another, while I thought he demean'd me too much in some he requir'd
of me, who from a brother expected more indulgence. Our disputes were
often brought before our father, and I fancy I was either generally in
the right, or else a better pleader, because the judgment was
generally in my favor. But my brother was passionate, and had often
beaten me, which I took extreamly amiss; and, thinking my
apprenticeship very tedious, I was continually wishing for some
opportunity of shortening it, which at length offered in a manner
unexpected.
I fancy his harsh and tyrannical treatment of me might be a means of
impressing me with that aversion to arbitrary power that has stuck to
me through my whole life.
One of the pieces in our newspaper on some political point, which I
have now forgotten, gave offense to the Assembly. He was taken up,
censur'd, and imprison'd for a month, by the speaker's warrant, I
suppose, because he would not discover his author. I too was taken up
and examin'd before the council; but, tho' I did not give them any
satisfaction, they content'd themselves with admonishing me, and
dismissed me, considering me, perhaps, as an apprentice, who was bound
to keep his master's secrets.
During my brother's confinement, which I resented a good deal,
notwithstanding our private differences, I had the management of the
paper; and I made bold to give our rulers some rubs in it, which my
brother took very kindly, while others began to consider me in an
unfavorable light, as a young genius that had a turn for libelling and
satyr. My brother's discharge was accompany'd with an order of the
House (a very odd one), that "James Franklin should no longer print
the paper called the New England Courant."
There was a consultation held in our printing-house among his friends,
what he should do in this case. Some proposed to evade the order by
changing the name of the paper; but my brother, seeing inconveniences
in that, it was finally concluded on as a better way, to let it be
printed for the future under the name of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN; and to
avoid the censure of the Assembly, that might fall on him as still
printing it by his apprentice, the contrivance was that my old
indenture should be return'd to me, with a full discharge on the back
of it, to be shown on occasion, but to secure to him the benefit of my
service, I was to sign new indentures for the remainder of the term,
which were to be kept private. A very flimsy scheme it was; however,
it was immediately executed, and the paper went on accordingly, under
my name for several months.
At length, a fresh difference arising between my brother and me, I
took upon me to assert my freedom, presuming that he would not venture
to produce the new indentures. It was not fair in me to take this
advantage, and this I therefore reckon one of the first errata of my
life; but the unfairness of it weighed little with me, when under the
impressions of resentment for the blows his passion too often urged
him to bestow upon me, though he was otherwise not an ill-natur'd man:
perhaps I was too saucy and provoking.
When he found I would leave him, he took care to prevent my getting
employment in any other printing-house of the town, by going round and
speaking to every master, who accordingly refus'd to give me work. I
then thought of going to New York, as the nearest place where there
was a printer; and I was rather inclin'd to leave Boston when I
reflected that I had already made myself a little obnoxious to the
governing party, and, from the arbitrary proceedings of the Assembly
in my brother's case, it was likely I might, if I stay'd, soon bring
myself into scrapes; and farther, that my indiscrete disputations
about religion began to make me pointed at with horror by good people
as an infidel or atheist. I determin'd on the point, but my father
now siding with my brother, I was sensible that, if I attempted to go
openly, means would be used to prevent me. My friend Collins,
therefore, undertook to manage a little for me. He agreed with the
captain of a New York sloop for my passage, under the notion of my
being a young acquaintance of his, that had got a naughty girl with
child, whose friends would compel me to marry her, and therefore I
could not appear or come away publicly. So I sold some of my books to
raise a little money, was taken on board privately, and as we had a
fair wind, in three days I found myself in New York, near 300 miles
from home, a boy of but 17, without the least recommendation to, or
knowledge of any person in the place, and with very little money in my
pocket.
My inclinations for the sea were by this time worne out, or I might
now have gratify'd them. But, having a trade, and supposing myself a
pretty good workman, I offer'd my service to the printer in the place,
old Mr. William Bradford, who had been the first printer in
Pennsylvania, but removed from thence upon the quarrel of George
Keith. He could give me no employment, having little to do, and help
enough already; but says he, "My son at Philadelphia has lately lost
his principal hand, Aquila Rose, by death; if you go thither, I
believe he may employ you." Philadelphia was a hundred miles further;
I set out, however, in a boat for Amboy, leaving my chest and things
to follow me round by sea.
In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that tore our rotten sails
to pieces, prevented our getting into the Kill and drove us upon Long
Island. In our way, a drunken Dutchman, who was a passenger too, fell
overboard; when he was sinking, I reached through the water to his
shock pate, and drew him up, so that we got him in again. His ducking
sobered him a little, and he went to sleep, taking first out of his
pocket a book, which he desir'd I would dry for him. It proved to be
my old favorite author, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, in Dutch, finely
printed on good paper, with copper cuts, a dress better than I had
ever seen it wear in its own language. I have since found that it has
been translated into most of the languages of Europe, and suppose it
has been more generally read than any other book, except perhaps the
Bible. Honest John was the first that I know of who mix'd narration
and dialogue; a method of writing very engaging to the reader, who in
the most interesting parts finds himself, as it were, brought into the
company and present at the discourse. De Foe in his Cruso, his Moll
Flanders, Religious Courtship, Family Instructor, and other pieces,
has imitated it with success; and Richardson has done the same, in his
Pamela, etc.