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About Google Book Search Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web at |http: //books .google .com/I Lf S' ,''. '^- ^ 1 HARVARD COLLE.GE LIBRARY ^ Little Masterpieces Kd'tted bv Ri'ss IVrrv .. t;ons from autoriugkaph r 1-!. 'HARDS ALMWAC ••'.. . ;•*'.) A YOUNG TaAi;>.SMA\' S^A»r/ WINT.S TO TIiOS> TK \T • »ri.i) HK RICH >OR I'RAYliRS '. i.' :..HTTFRS NKw vork: I uo ■ ^Little Masterpieces/ Edited by Bliss Perry BENJAMIN FRANKLIN SELECTIONS FROM AUTOBIOGRAPHY POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN THE WHISTLE NECESSARY HINTS TO THOSE THAT WOULD BE RICH MOTION FOR PRAYERS SELECTED LETTERS NEW YORK DOUBLED AY & McCLURE CO. 1902 \y ■:o Copyright, 1898, by DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO. Acknowledgment is due Messrs. G» P, Putnam's Sons for permission to use selections from the text of Bigelow's edition of Franklin' s Autobiography Introduction Introduction This volume of selections from the writings of Benjamin Franklin begins with a series of extracts from his ** Autobiography." The oc- casion and motive for the composition of this work are explained in its opening paragraph. It was begun in 1771. Franklin, at that time residing in England as the agent of the Ameri- can colonies, was enjoying a week's leisure at the country house of his friend Dr. Shipley, the Bishop of St. Asaph's. He was in his sixty- sixth year. The contrast between his present position of honor and influence and the narrow circumstances of his boyhood was striking, though the full force of Franklin's personality and his greatest services to his country were yet to be displayed. It was for the perusal of his own family, ap- parently, that the memoirs were first under- taken, and there is no evidence that at this time Franklin considered the question of their ulti- mate publication. The composition was inter- rupted after he had told the story of his life up to the period of his marriage. Thirteen years later, in 1784, while living in France, he re- sumed his task. The blank line on page 78 of vu Introduction the present volume indicates the beginning of the second portion, and its conclusion will be found on page 102. The third and final section of the memoirs was written in Philadelphia in 1788, in the author's eighty-second year. He writes under date of October 24th, 1788, to his friend Benjamin Vaughan, who had seen and praised the first part of his manuscript : ** I am recovering from a long-continued gout, and am diligently employed in writing the His- tory of my Life, to the doing of which the per- suasions contained in your letter of January 31st, 1783, have not a little contributed. I am now in the year 1756, just before I was sent to England. To shorten the work, as well as for other reasons, I omit all facts and transactions that may not have a tendency to benefit the young reader, by showing him from my exam- ple, and my success in emerging from poverty, and acquiring some degree of wealth, power, and reputation, the advantages of certain modes of conduct which I observed, and of avoiding the errors which were prejudicial to me. If a writer can judge properly of his own work, I fancy, on reading over what is already done, that the book will be found entertaining, inter- esting, and useful, more so than I expected when I began it." Entertaining, interesting, and useful the "Autobiography" surely is. The extracts chosen relate largely to Franklin's early life, and to the formation of his habits and charac- • • • vui Introduction ter. His " Rules of Conduct," one of the most curious documents in the history of morals, is given entire. Franklin's activity as a citizen of Philadelphia is illustrated by two extracts entitled ** Public Affairs" and " Civic Pride"— although the reader should remember that there are no headings or chapter divisions in the original. The account of his singular friendship with George Whitefield is reprinted in full, and there are two brief passages relating to the famous Franklin stove and to the Doctor's ex- periments with electricity. Of the literary value of the '* Autobiography" but little need be said. Its ease and original- ity, its humor, its combination of shrewd worldli- ness and overflowing benevolence, have long since given it a place among the great auto- biographies. Franklin's own manuscript, it may be added, after surviving singular vicissi- tudes of fortune, was printed for the first time in 1868, under the editorship of Mr. John Bige- low. This text, differing in many points from the one originally published by William Tem- ple Franklin in 181 7, and preserving Franklin's occasionally inconsistent spelling, has been here reprinted by permission. The text of " Poor Richard's Almanac," like- wise, is believed to be an accurate reproduction of the edition of 1757, which threw into con- nected form the proverbial sayings that for many years had given spice to Franklin's an- nual " Almanacs." The motive that led him to ix Introduction the collection and publication of these curt, wise comments upon life and the world is described in the *' Autobiography," in a passage here printed as an introductory note to the ** Al- manac." Franklin's account of the contem- porary influence of " Poor Richard" is no whit exaggerated. Mr. John T. Morse, Jr., one ot Franklin's recent biographers, says : " * Poor Richard * was the revered and popular school- master of a young nation during its period of tutelage. His teachings are among the power- ful forces which have gone to shaping the hab- its of Americans. His terse and picturesque bits of the wisdom and the virtue of this world are familiar in our mouths to-day ; they mould- ed our great-grandparents and their children ; they have informed our popular traditions ; they still influence our actions, guide our ways of thinking, and establish our points of view, with the constant control of acquired habits which we little suspect. ' * The shrewd wit that was the salt of the "Almanac" characterizes also Franklin's es- says and miscellaneous writings. They are models of an effective popular style that loses no dignity in becoming colloquial. Carelessly as Franklin often wrote, his acquaintance with the best English prose and a happy instinct that was quite his own kept him as far from affectation as from dulness. His story of ** The Whistle" is perhaps the most famous of these compositions, but they are all delightful. Introduction Nothing could be more perfect of its kind than Franklin's speech in the Federal Conven- tion of 1787, in favor of opening its daily ses- sions with prayer. It is decorous, eloquent, irreproachable. Yet it seems to have convinced but very few members of the Convention, and in truth Franklin's real attitude toward that other world whose assistance he then entreated is difficult to determine with any certainty. He was not '* spiritually-minded" — as his friend Whitefield would have understood that phrase. Yet he sought virtue persistently, and in spite of early "errata" the printer's life was gov- erned by noble impulses and guided to worthy ends. One of the ablest men of his century, he was also one of the most useful. Readers of this little volume will miss the story of Franklin the patriot, the diplomatist, the statesman ; they will have merely a glimpse of the scientist ; but the temper of the man is revealed upon every page. It is betrayed in his casual letters : in the lines about '* pruden- tial algebra" to Dr. Priestley ; in the familiar, "You are my enemy, and I am Yours," to his friend Strahan the printer ; in the admiring, generous sentences addressed to George Wash- ington ; in the account of his peaceful closing years written to his old companion, the Bishop of St. Asaph's. Franklin lived happily and died content, assured of the respect and gratitude of mankind. " Take one thing with another," he wrote to his sister, *' and the world is a pretty xi Introduction good sort of a world, and it is our duty to make the best of it and be thankful." That is a more cheery philosophy than modern men of letters have uniformly possessed, yet it remains to be proved that pessimism is a valuable equip- ment for the pursuit of literature. We have had plenty of gloomy, stormy geniuses since Franklin's day, but we have had very few men who could write a better page of English prose. Bliss Perry. CONTENTS •M Editor's Introduction • , PAGB V Autobiography — Selections Early Life Settling Down , Rules of Conduct I . 76 . 86 Public Affairs • 102 George Whitefield , , The Franklin Stove . 108 . "5 Civic Pride . 117 Philosophical Experiments . 125 Poor Richard's Almanac . 131 Selected Essays Advice to a Young Tradesman • 153 The Whistle . 156 Necessary Hints to those that w rich . . , , ould be . 160 Motion for Prayers . 162 Letters To Dr. Priestley . To Mr. Strahan . . 167 . 169 To General Washington To Dr. Mather . . 170 • 172 To the Bishop of St. Asaph's . . 175 Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Early Life, TwYFORD, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's^ 1771. Dear Son : I have ever had pleasure in ob- taining 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 under- took for that purpose. Imagining it may be equally agreeable to you to know the circum- stances of my life, many of which you are yet •unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoy- ment of a week's uninterrupted leisure in my present country retirement, 1 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 suc- 3 Benjamin Franklin ceeded, my posterity may like to know, aa they may find some of them suitable to their own situations, and ' therefore fit to be imi- tated. That felicity, when I reflected on it, has in- duced 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. ad vantages 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 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 them- selves 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 intro- ductory words, •* Without vanity ^ I may say^** etc., but some vain thing immediately followed. Early Life Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share they may 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 led me to the means I used and gave them success. My belief of this in- duces me to hope^ though I must not presume ^ that the same goodness will still be exercised toward me, in continuing that happiness, or en- abling me to bear a fatal reverse, which I may experience as others have done ; the complex- ion 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 an- ecdotes) once put into my hands, furnished me with several particulars relating to our ances- tors. From these notes I learned that the fam- ily 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 5 Benjamin Franklin assumed by them as a surname when others took surnames all over the kingdom), on a free- hold of about thirty acr^s, 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 regis- ters 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 gener- ations 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 particu- lars. Thomas was bred a smith under his father ; 6 Early Life but, being ingenious, and encouraged in learn- ing (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 North- ampton, and his own village, of which many instances were related of him ; and much taken notice of and patronized by the then Lord Hali- fax. He died in 1702, January 6, old style, just four years to a day before I was born. The ac- count we received of his life and character from some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck you as something extraordinary, from its sim- ilarity 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 woollens. Benjamin was bred a silk dyer, serving an ap- prenticeship 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 po- etry, consisting of little occasional pieces ad- dressed to his friends and relations. 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 • 7 Benjamin Franklin being a particular affection between him and my father. He was very pious, a great attend- er 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 re- main eight volumes in folio, and twenty-four in quarto and octavo. A dealer in old books met with them, and knowing me by my some- times buying of him, he brought them to me. It seems my uncle must have left them here when he went to America, which was above fifty years since. There are many of his notes in the margins. 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, turn- ing 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 au 8 Early Life ofl&cer 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 non-conformity 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 car- ried his wife with three children into New Eng- land, about 1682. The conventicles having been forbidden by law, and frequently dis- turbed, 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 re- ligion 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 re- member 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 Bos- ton, New England. My mother, the second wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one of the first settlers of New Eng- land, of whom honorable mention is made by Cotton Mather, in his church history of that 9 Benjamin Franklin country, entitled *' Magnalia Christi Ameri- cana," SiS ** a goodly^ 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 peo- ple, and addressed to those then concerned in the government there. It was in favor of lib- erty of conscience, and in behalf of the Bap- tists, Quakers, and other sectaries that had been under persecution, ascribing the Indian wars, and other distresses that had befallen the coun- try, to that persecution, as so many judgments of God to punish so heinous an offense, and ex- horting a repeal of those uncharitable laws. The whole appeared to me as written with a good deal of decent plainness and manly free- dom. 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, there- fore, 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- fichool at eight years of age, my father intend- 10 Early Life ing 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, encour- aged 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 supj>ose 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 fam- ily he could not well afford, and the mean living many so educated were afterwards able to ob- tain—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 tal- II Benjamin Franklin J low-chandler and soap-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 cut- ting 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 inclina- tion 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, v' as it shows an early p rojecti ng public spirit, though 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 wharf there fit for us to stand upon, and I showed my comrades a large heap of stones which were in- tended for a new house near the marsh, and which would very well suit our purpose. Ac- cordingly, in the evening, when the workmen were gone, I assembled a number of my play- fellows, and working with them diligently like 12 Early Life so many emmets, sometimes two or three to a stone, we brought them all away and built our little wharf. The next morning the workmen were surprised at missing the stones, which were found in our wharf. 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 useful- ness of the work, mine convinced me that noth- • ing 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 ingen- ious, 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 me- chanical genius, too, and on occasion was very handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools ; but his great excellence lay in a sound under- standing and solid judgment in prudential mat- ters, 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 13 Benjamin Franklin 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 wliat I dined upon. This has been a convenience to me in travel- ling, where my companions have been some- times very unhappy for want of a suitable grati- fication of their more delicate, because better instructed, tastes and appetites. My mother had likewise an excellent consti- tution ; she suckled all her ten children. I never knew either my father or mother to have any sickness but that of which they died, he at ; 89, and she at 85 years of age. They lie buried 14 Early Life together at Boston, where I some years since placed a marble over their grave, with this in- scription : 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 mstance, reader, Be encouraged to diligence in thy caljiijg, And distrust not Provid ence. HS 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, ^tat 89. A. F. born 1667, died 1752, 85. By my rambling digressions I perceive my- self to be grown old. I us'd to write more methodically. But one does not dress for private company as for a public ball. 'T is 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 tal- low-chandler. But my dislike to the trade con- tinuing, my father was under apprehensions 15 Benjamin Franklin that if he did not find one for me more agree- able, 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 ob- serve 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 con- struct 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 displeasmg 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 Pil- grim'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 16 Early Life 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 171 7 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 1 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 book- 17 Benjamin Franklin sellers 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 trades- man, 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, en- couraged me, and put me on composing occa- sional ballads. One was called "The Light- house Tragedy," 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, hav- ing made a great noise. This flattered my vanity ; but my father discouraged me by ridi- culing 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 has been of great use to me in the course of my life, and was a principal i8 Early Life means of my advancement, I shall tell yoti how, in such a situation, I acquired what little ability 1 have in that way. There was another bookish lad in the town, John Collins by name, with whom I was inti- mately a,cquainted. We sometimes disputed, and very fond we were of argument, and very desirous of confuting one another, which dis- putatious 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 thenoe, besides souring and spoiling the con- versation, is productive of disgusts and, .per- haps, enmities, where you may have occasion for friendship. I had caught it by reading my father's books of dispute about religion. Per- sons of good sense, I have since observed, sel- dom 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, s4:arted between Collins and me, of the pro- priety of educating the female sex in learning, and their abilities for study. He was of opin- ion 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 19 Benjamin Franklin settling the point, and were not to see one an- other 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 spell- ing 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 con- vinced me by several instances. I saw the jus- tice of his remarks and thence grew more atten- tive 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 orig- inal, discovered some of my faults, and cor- 20 Early Life rected 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 some- times had the pleasure of fancying that, in cer- tain 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 extreamly am- bitious. '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, 21 Benjamin Franklin evading as much as I could the common at- tendance on public worship which my father used to exact of 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 i6 years of age I happened to meet with a book, written by one Tryon, rec- ommending 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 pres- ently 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 print- ing-house to their meals, I remained there alone, and, despatching presently my light repast, which often was no more than a biscuit 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, 22 Early Life 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 Under- standing," and the "Art of Thinking," by Messrs. du Port Royal. While I was intent on improving my lan- guage, 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 contradic- tion 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 de- 23 Benjamin Franklin light 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 ob- taining 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 ad- vanced any thing that may possibly be dis- puted, the words certainly^ undoubtedly^ or any others that give' the air of positiveness to an opinion ; but rather say, I conceive or appre- hend a thing to be so and so ; it appears to me, or I should think it so or sOy for such and such reasons ; or / imagine it to be so ; or // 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 per- suade 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 infor- mation or pleasure. For, if you would inform, 24 Early Life a positive and dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments may provoke contradiction and prevent a candid attention. If you wish in- formation and improvement from the knowl- edge of others, and yet at the same time ex- press yourself as firmly fix'd in your present opinions, modest, sensible men, who do not love disputation, will probably leave you undis- turbed in the possession of your error. And by such a manner, you can seldom hope to rec- ommend yourself in pleasing your hearers, or to persuade those whose concurrence j'ou de- sire. Pope says, judiciously : " Men should be taught as if you taught them not^ And things unknown proposed 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." 25 Benjamin Franklin This, however, I should submit to better judg- ments. My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun ta print a newspaper. It was the second that ap- peared in America, and was called the Neiv [ 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, how- ever, with the undertaking, and after having worked in composing the types- and printing off the sheets, I was employed to carry the pa- pers 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 con- versations and their accounts of the approba- tion, their papers were received with, I was ex- cited to try my hand among them ; but, being still a boy, and suspecting that my brother would object to printing any thing of mine in his paper if he knew it to be mine, I contrived to di^uise my hand, and, writing an anony- mons 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 26 Early Life 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 differ- ent 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 ' csteem'd them. Encouraged, 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 exhaust- ed, and then I discovered it, when I beg^n to be considered a little more by my brother's ac- quaintance, and in a manner that did not quite please him, as he thought, probably with rea- son, that it tended to make me top vain. And p^iiaps this might be one occasion of the differ- ences that we began to have about this time. . Though a brother, he considered himself as my master, and me as his apprentice, and accord- ingly expected the same services from me as he would from another, while I thought he de- mean'd me too much in some he requir'd of mc, who from a brother expected more indul- gence. Our disputes were often brought be- fore our father, and I fancy 1 was either gen- erally in the right, or else a better pleader, be- . cause the judgment was generally in my favor. . But my brother was passionate, and had often 27 Benjamin Franklin '' 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 man- ner unexpected.* 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 them- selves 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 pri- vate 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 unfavor- able 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 print- * 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. 28 Early Life ing-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 contri- vance was that my old indenture should be re- turn *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 ven- ture 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 provokinja:. When he found I would leave him, he took care to prevent my getting employment in any 29 Benjamin Franklin other printing-house of the town, by going round and speaking to every master, who ac- cordingly 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 -v^as rather inclin'd to leave Boston when I reflected that I had already made myself a little obnox- ious to the governing party, and, from the ar- bitrary 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 deter- min'd on the point, but my father now siding with my brother, I was sensible that, if I at- tempted to go openly, means would be used to prevent me. My friend Collins, therefore, un- dertook 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 ap- pear 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 heme, 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. 30 Early Life My inclinations for the sea were by this time worn 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 Brad- ford, who had been the first printer in Penn- sylvania, 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 be- lieve 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 au- thor, 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 31 Benjamin Franklin of Europe, and suppose it has been more gen- erally 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 pres- ent at the discourse. De Foe in his " Crusoe,*' 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. When we drew near the island, we found it was at a place where there could be no land- ing, there being a great surff on the stony beach. So we dropt anchor, and swung round towards the shore. Some people came down to the water edge and hallow'd to us. as we did to them ; but the wind was so high, and the sur/f so loud, that we could not hear so as to understand each other. There were canoes on the shore, and we made signs, and hallow'd that they should fetch us ; but they either did not understand us, or thought it impracticable, so they went away, and night coming on, we had no reme ly but to wait till the wind should abate ; and, in the mean time, the boatman and I concluded to sleep, if we could ; and so crowded into the scuttle, with the Dutchman, who was still wet. and the spray beating over the head of our boat, leak'd through to us, so that we were soon almost as wet as he. In this 32 Early Life manner we lay all night, with very little rest ; but the wind abating the next day, we made a shift to reach Amboy before night, having been thirty hours on the water, without victuals, or any drink but a bottle of filthy rum, the water we sail'd on being salt. In the evening I found myself very feverish, and went in to bed ; but, having read some- where that cold water drank plentifully was good for a fever, I follow* d the prescription, sweat plentifully most of the night, my fever left me, and in the morning, crossing the ferry, I proceeded on my journey on foot, having fifty miles to Burlington, where I was told I should find boats that would carry me the rest of the way to Philadelphia. It rained very hard all the day ; I was thor- oughly soak*d, and by noon a good deal tired ; so I stopt at a poor inn, where I stayed all night, beginning now to wish that I had never left home. I cut so miserable a figure, too, that I found, by the questions ask'd me, I was sus- pected to be some runaway servant, and in dan- ger of being taken up on that suspicion. How- -ever, I proceeded the next day, and got in the •evening to an inn, within eight or ten miles of Burlington, kept by one Dr. Brown. He en- tered into conversation with me while I took some refreshment, and, finding I had read a little, became very sociable and friendly. Our acquaintance continu'd as long as he liv'd. He had been, I imagine, an itinerant doctor, for 33 Benjamin Franklin there was no town in England, or country in Europe, of which he could not give a very par- ticular account. He had some letters, and was ingenious, but much of an unbeliever, and wickedly undertook, some years after, to traves- tie the Bible in doggrel verse, as Cotton had done Virgil. By this means he set many of the facts in a very ridiculous light, and might have hurt weak minds if his work had been pub- lished ; but it never was. At his house I lay that night, and the next morning reach' d Burlington, but had the mor- tification to find that the regular boats were gone a little before my coming, and no other expected to go before Tuesday, this being Sat- urday ; wherefore I returned to an old woman in the town, of whom I had bought ginger- bread to eat on the water, and ask'd her advice. She invited me to lodge at her house till a pas- sage by water should offer ; and being tired with my foot travelling, I accepted the invita- tion. She understanding I was a printer, would have had me stay at that town and follow my business, being ignorant of the stock necessary to begin with. She was very hospitable, gave me a dinner of ox-cheek with great good will, accepting only of a pot of ale in return ; and I thought myself fixed till Tuesday should come. However, walking in tlie evening by the side of the river, a boat came by, which I found was going towards Philadelphia, with several peo- ple in her. They took me in, and, as there was 34 Early Life no wind, we row'd all the way ; and about mid^ night, not having yet seen the city, some of the company were confident we must have passed it, and would row no farther ; the others knew not where we were ; so we put toward the shore, got into a creek, landed near an old fence, with the rails of which we made a fire, the night being cold, in October, and there we remained till daylight. Then one of the com- pany knew the place to be Cooper's Creek, a little above Philadelphia, which we saw as soon as we got out of the creek, and arriv'd there about eight or nine o'clock on the Sunday morning, and landed at the Market-street wharf. I have been the more particular in this de- scription of my journey, and shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your mind compare such unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since made there. I was in my working dress, my best cloaths being to come round by sea. I was dirty from my jour- ney ; my pockets were stuff' d out with shirts and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where to look for lodging. I was fatigued with trav- elling, rowing and want of rest, I was very hungry ; and my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling in cop- per. The latter I gave the people of the boat for my passage, who at first refus'd it, on ac- count of my rowing ; but I insisted on their taking it. A man being sometimes more gen- 35 Benjamin Franklin crous when he has but a little money than when he has plenty, perhaps thro' fear of being thought to have but little. Then I walked up the street, gazing about till near the market-house I met a boy with "bread. I had made many a meal on bread, and, inquiring where he got it, I went immedi- ately to the baker's he directed me to, in Sec- ond-street, and ask'd for biscuit, intending such as we had in Boston ; but they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia. Then I asked for a three-penny loaf, and was told they had none such. So not considering or knowing the dif- ference of money, and the greater cheapness nor the names of his bread, I bade him give me three-penny worth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great puff}' rolls. I was sur- pris'd at the quantity, but took it. and, having •no room in my pockets, walk'd off with a roll under each arm, and eating the other. Thus I went up Market-street as far as Fourth-street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father ; when she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut-street and part of Walnut-street, eating my roll all the way, and, coming round, found myself again at Market-street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which 1 went for a draught of the river water ; and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child 36 Early Life that came down the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time had many clean-dressed peo- ple in it, who were all walking the same way. I joined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the Quakers near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking round awhile and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy thro' labor and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and con- tinu'd so till the meeting broke up, when one « was kind enough to rouse me. This was, there- fore, the first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia. Walking down again toward the river, and, looking in the faces of people, I met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I lik'd, and, accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could get lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three Mariners. ** Here,** says he, " is one place that entertains strangers, but it is not a reputable house ; if thee wilt walk with me I *11 show thee a better." He brought me to the Crooked Billet, in Water- street. Here I got a dinner ; and, while I was eating it, several sly questions were asked me, as it seemed to be suspected from my youth and appearance that I might be some run- away. After dinner my sleepiness return'd, and being shown to a bed, I lay down without un- 37 Benjamin Franklin dressing, and slept till six in the evening, was call'd to supper, went to bed again very early, and slept soundly till next morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could, and went to Andrew Bradford the printer's. I found in the shop the old man his father, whom I had seen at New York, and who, travelling on horse- back, had got to Philadelphia before me. He introduc'd me to his son, who receiv'd me civ- illy, gave me a breakfast, but told me he did not at present want a hand, being lately sup- pli'd with one ; but there was another printer in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, per- haps, might employ me ; if not, I should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a little work to do now and then till fuller business should offer. The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer ; and when we found him, " Neighbor,'* says Bradford, ** I have brought to see you a young man of your business ; per- haps you may want such a one." He ask'd me a few questions, put a composing stick in my hand to see how I work'd, and then said he would employ me soon, though he had just then nothing for me to do ; and, taking old Brad- ford, whom he had never seen before, to be one of the townspeople that had a good will for him, enter'd into a conversation on his present undertaking and prospects ; while Bradford, not discovering that he was the other printer's father, on Keimer's saying he expected soon to 38 Early Life get the. greatest part of the business into his own hands, drew him on by artful questions, and starting little doubts, to explain all his views, what interest he reli'd on, and in what manner he intended to proceed. I, who stood by and heard all, saw immediately that one of them was a crafty old sophister, and the other a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was greatly surpris'd when I told him who the old man was. Keimer's printing-house, I found, consisted of an old shatter 'd press and one small, worn- out font of English, which he was then using himself, composing an Elegy on Aquila Rose, before mentioned, an ingenious young man, of excellent character, much respected in the town, clerk of the Assembly, and a pretty poet. Keimer made verses too, but very indifferently. He could not be said to write them, for his man- ner was to compose them in the types directly out of his head. So there being no copy, but one pair of cases, and the Elegy likely to re- quire all the letter, no one could help him. I endeavor'd to put his press (which he had not yet us'd, and of which he understood nothing) into order fit to be work'd with ; and promising to come and print off his Elegy as soon as he should have got it ready, I return 'd to Brad- ford's, who gave me a little job to do for the present, and there I lodged and dieted. A few days after, Keimer sent for me to print off the Elegy. And now he had got another pair of Benjamin Franklin cases, and a pamphlet to reprint, on which he set me to work. These two printers I found poorly qualified for their business. Bradford had not been bred to it, and was very illiterate ; and Keimer, tho' something of a scholar, was a mere compositor, knowing nothing of press-work. He had been I one of the French prophets, and could act their •enthusiastic agitations. At this time he did not profess any particular religion, but some- thing of all on occasion ; was very ignorant of the world, and had, as I afterward found, a good deal of the knave in his composition. He did not like my lodging at Bradford's while I worked with him. He had a house, indeed, but without furniture, so he could not lodge me; but he got me a lodging at Mr. Read's, before mentioned, who was the owner of his house; and, my chest and clothes being come by this time, I made rather a more respectable appear- ance in the eyes of Miss Read than I had done when she first happened to see me eating my roll in the street. I began now to have some acquaintance among the young people of the town, that were lovers of reading, with whom I spent my even- 'ings very pleasantly; and gaining money by my industry and frugality, I lived very agree- ably, forgetting Boston as much as I could, and not desiring that any there should know where I resided, except my friend Collins, who was in my secret, and kept it when I wrote to him. 40 Early Life At length an incident happened that sent me back again much sooner than I had intended. I had a brother-in-law, Robert Holmes, master of a sloop that traded between Boston and Dela- ware. He being at Newcastle, forty miles be- low Philadelphia, heard there of me, and wrote me a letter mentioning the concern of my friends in Boston at my abrupt departure, as- suring me of their good will to me, and that every thing would be accommodated to my mind if I would return, to which he exhorted me very earnestly. I wrote an answer to his letter, thank'd him for his advice, but stated my reasons for quitting Boston fully and in such a light as to convince him I was not so- wrong as he had apprehended. Sir William Keith, governor of the province, was then at Newcastle, and Captain Holmes, happening to be in company with him when my letter came to hand, spoke to him of me, and show'd him the letter. The governor read it, and seem'd surpris'd when he was told my age. He said I appear' d a young man of prom- ising parts, and therefore should be encour- aged ; the printers at Philadelphia were wretch- ed ones ; and, if I would set up there, he made no doubt I should succeed ; for his part, he would procure me the public business, and do- me every other service in his power. This my brother-in-law afterward told me in Boston, but I knew as yet nothing of it ; when, one day, Keimer and I being at work together near 41 Benjamin Franklin the window, we saw the governor and another gentleman (which proved to be Colonel French, of Newcastle), finely dress* d, come directly across the street to our house, and heard them at the door. Keimer ran down immediately, thinking it a visit to him ; but the governor inquired for me, came up, and with a condescension and polite- ness I had been quite unus'd to, made me many compliments, desired to be acquainted with me, blam'd me kindly for not having made myself known to him when I first came to the place, and would have me away with him to the tavern, where he was going with Colonel French to taste, as he said, some excellent Madeira. I was not a little surpris'd, and Keimer star'd like a pig poison'd. I went, however, with the governor and Colonel French to a tavern, at the corner of Third-street, and over the Madeira he proposed my setting up my business, laid before me the probabilities of success, and both he and Colonel French as- sur'd me I should have their interest and influ- ence in procuring the public business of both governments. On my doubting whether my father would assist me in it, Sir William said he would give me a letter to him. in which he would state the advantages, and he did not doubt of prevailing with him. So it was con- cluded I should return to Boston in the first vessel, with the governor's letter recommend- ing me to my father. In the mean time the in- 42 Early Life tention was to be kept a secret, and I went on working with Keimer as usual, the governor sending for me now and then to dine with him, a very great honor I thought it, and conversing with me in the most affable, familiar, and friendly manner imaginable. About the end of April, 1724, a little vessel offer'd for Boston. I took leave of Keimer as going to see my friends. The governor gave me an ample letter, saying many flattering things of me to my father, and strongly recom- mending the project of my setting up at Phila- delphia as a thing that must make my fortune. We struck on a shoal in going down the bay, and sprung a leak ; we had a blustering time at sea, and were obliged to pump almost con- tinually, at which I took my turn. We arriv'd safe, however, at Boston in about a fortnight. I had been absent seven monOis, and my friends had heard nothing of me ; for my br. Holmes was not yet return* d, and had not written about me. My imexpected appearance surpris'd the family ; all were, however, very glad to see me, and made me welcome, except my brother. I went to see him at his printing-house. I was better dress'd than ever while in his service, having a genteel new suit from head to foot, a watch, and my pockets lin'd with near five pounds sterling in silver. He receiv'd me not very frankly, look'd me all over, and turn'd to his work again. The journeymen were inquisitive where I 43 Benjamin Franklin had been, what sort of a country it was, and how I lik'd it. I prais'd it much, and the happy life I led in it, expressing strongly my inten- tion of returning to it ; and, one of them asking what kind of money we had there, I produc'd a handful of silver, and spread it before them, which was a kind of raree-show they had not • been us'd to, paper being the money of Boston. Then I took an opportunity of letting thqm see my watch ; and, lastly (my brother still g^um and sullen), I gave them a piece of eight to drink, and took my leave. This visit of mine offended him extremely ; for, when my mother some time after spoke to him of a reconcilia- tion, and of her wishes to see us on good terms together, and that we might live for the future as brothers, he said I had insulted him in such a manner before his people that he could never forget or forgive it. In this, however, he was mistaken. My father received the governor's letter with some apparent surprise, but said little of it to me for several days, when Capt. Holmes re- turning he show'd it to him, ask'd him if he knew Keith, and what kind of man he was ; adding his opinion that he must be of small dis- cretion to think of setting a boy up in business who wanted yet three years of being at man's estate. Holmes said what he could in favor of the project, but my father was clear in the im- propriety of it, and at last gave a flat denial to it. Then he wrote a civil letter to Sir William, 44 Early Life thanking him for the patronage he had so kindly offered me, but declining to assist me as yet in setting up, I being, in his opinion, too young to be trusted with the management of a business so important, and for which the prep- aration must be so expensive. My friend and companion Collins, who was a clerk in the post-office, pleased with the account I gave him of my new country, determined t6 go thither also ; and, while I waited for my father's determination, he set out before me by land to Rhode Island, leaving his books, which were a pretty collection of mathematicks and natural philosophy, to come with mine and me to New York, where he proposed to wait for me. My father, tho' he did not approve Sir Wil- liam's proposition, was yet pleas'd that I had been able to obtain so advantageous a charac- ter from a person of such note where I had re- sided, and that I had been so industrious and careful as to equip myself so handsomely in so short a time ; therefore, seeing no prospect of an accommodation between my brother and me, he gave his consent to my returning again to Philadelphia, advis'd me to behave respect- fully to the people there, endeavor to obtain the general esteem, and avoid lampooning and libeling, to which he thought I had too much inclination ; telling me, that by steady industry and a prudent parsimony 1 might save enough by the time I was one and-twenty to set me up ; and that, if I came near the matter, he 45 Benjamin Franklin would help me out with the rest. This was all I could obtain, except some small gifts as tokens of his and my mother's love, when I em- bark 'd again for New York, now with their ap« probation and their blessing. The sloop putting in at Newport, Rhode Island, I visited my brother John, who had been married and settled there some years. He received me very affectionately, for he al- ways lov'd me. A friend of his, one Vernon, having some money due to him in Pennsyl- vania, about thirty-five pounds currency, de- sired I would receive it for him, and keep it till I had his directions what to remit it in. Accordingly, he gave me an order. This after- wards occasion *d me a good deal of uneasiness. At Newport we took in a number of passen- gers for New York, among which were two young women, companions, and a grave, sensi- ble, matron-like Quaker woman, with her at- tendants. I had shown an obliging readiness to do her some little services, which impress'd her I suppose with a degree of good-will toward me ; therefore, when she saw a daily growing familiarity between me and the two young women, which they appear' d to encourage, she took me aside, and said, ** Young man, I am concern'd for thee, as thou has no friend with thee, and seems not to know much of the world, or of the snares youth is expos* d to ; depend upon it, those are very bad women ; I can see it in all their actions ; and if thee art not upon 46 Early Life thy guard, they will draw thee into some dan- ger ; they are strangers to thee, and I advise thee, in a friendly concern for thy welfare, to have no acquaintance with them/* As I seem'd at first not to think so ill of them as she did, she mentioned some things she had ob- served, and heard that had escap'd my notice, but now convinc'd me she was right. I thank *d her for her kind advice, and promis'd to follow it. When we arriv'd at New York, they told me where they liv'd, and invited me to come and see them ; but I avoided it, and it was well I did ; for the next day the captain miss'd a silver spoon and some other things, that had been taken out of his cabin, and, knowing that these were a couple of strumpets, he got a war- rant to search their lodgings, found the stolen goods, and had the thieves punish'd. So, tho' we had escap'd a sunken rock, which we scrap'd upon in the passage, I thought this escape of rather more importance to me. At New York I found my friend Collins, who had arriv'd there some time before me. We had been intimate from children, and had read the same books together ; but he had the ad- vantage of more time for reading and studying, and a wonderful genius for mathematical learn- ing, in which he far outstript me. While I liv'd in Boston, most of my hours of leisure for con- versation were spent with him, and he con- tinu'd a sober as well as an industrious lad ; was much respected for his learning by several 47 Benjamin Franklin of the clergy and other gentlemen, and seemed to promise making a good figure in life. But, during my absence, he had acquir'd a habit of sotting witH brandy ; and I found by his own account, and what I heard from others, that he had been drunk every day since his arrival at New York, and behav'd very oddly. He had gam'd, too, and lost his money, so that I was obliged to discharge his lodgings, and defray his expenses to and at Philadelphia, which prov'd extremely inconvenient to me. The then governor of New York, Burnet (son of Bishop Burnet), hearing from the captain that a young man, one of his passengers, had a great many books, desir'd he would bring me to see him. I waited upon him accordingly, and should have taken Collins with me but that he was not sober. The gov'r. treated me with great civility, sliow'd me his library, which was a very large one, and we had a good deal of conversation about books and authors. This was the second governor who had done me the honor to take notice of me ; which, to a poor boy like me, was very pleasing. We proceeded to Philadelphia. I received on the way Vernon's money, without which we could hardly have finish'd our journey. Col- lins wished to be employ' d in some counting- house ; but, whether they discover'd his dram- ming by his breath, or by his behaviour, tho' he had some recommendations, he met with no success in any application, and continu'd lodg- 48 Early Life ing and boarding at the same house with me^ and at my expense. Knowing I had that money of Vernon's, he was continually borrowing of me, still promising repayment as soon as he should be in business. At length he had got so much of it that I was distress' d to think what I should do in case of being called on to remit it. His drinking continu'd, about which we sometimes quarrel' d ; for, when a little intoxi- cated, he was very fractious. Once, in a boat on the Delaware with some other young men, he refused to row in his turn. ** I will be row'd home," says he. ** We will not row you," says I. ** You must, or stay all night on the water." says he, *'just as you please." The others said, **Let us row; what signifies it?" But, my mind being soured with his other conduct, I continu'd to refuse. So he swore he would make me row, or throw me overboard ; and coming along, stepping on the thwarts, toward me, when he came up and struck at me, I clapped my hand under his crutch, and, rising, pitched him head-foremost into the river. I knew he was a good swimmer, and so was un- der little concern about him ; but before he could get round to lay hold of the boat, we had with a few strokes puU'd her out of his reach ; and ever when he drew near the boat, we ask'd if he would row, striking a few strokes to slide her away from him. He was ready to die with vexation, and obstinately would not promise to 49 Benjamin Franklin row. However, seeing him at last beginning to tire, we lifted him in and brought him home dripping wet in the evening. We hardly ex- chang'd a civil word afterwards, and a West India captain, who had a commission to procure a tutor for the sons of a gentleman at Barba- does, happening to meet with him, agreed to carry him thither. He left me then, promising to remit me the first money he should receive in order to discharge the debt ; but I never heard of him after. The breaking into this money of Vernon's ^ was one of the first great errata of my life ; and this affair show'd that my father was not much out in his judgment when he suppos'd me too young to manage business of importance. But Sir William, on reading his letter, said he was too prudent. There was great difference in persons ; and discretion did not always accom- pany years, nor was youth always without it. ** And since he will not set you up,'* sajrs he, ** I will do it myself. Give me an inventory of the things necessary to be had from England, and I will send for them. You shall repay me when you are able ; I am resolv'd to have a good printer here, and I am sure you must suc- ceed." This was spoken with such an appear- ance of cordiality, that I had not the least doubt of his meaning what he said. I had hitherto kept the proposition of my setting up, a secret in Philadelphia, and I still kept it Had it been known that I depended on the governor, prob* 50 Early Life ably some friend, that knew him better, "would have advis'd me not to rely on hipi, as I after- wards heard it as his known character to be liberal of promises which he never meant to keep. Yet, unsolicited as he was by me, how could I think his generous offers insincere ? I believ'd him one of the best men in the world. I presented him an inventory of a little printing-house, amounting by my computation to about one hundred pounds sterling. He lik'd it, but ask'd me if my being on the spot in England to choose- the types, and see that every thing was good of the kind, might not be of some advantage. **Then,** says he, "when there, you may make acquaintances, and estab- lish correspondences in the bookselling and stationery way." I agreed that this might be advantageous. **Then,*' says he, **get your- self ready to go with AnnzY* / which was the annual ship, and the only one at that time usually passing between London and Philadel- phia. But it would be some months before Anm's saiVd, so I continu'd working with Keimer, fretting about the money Collins had got from me, and in daily apprehensions of being call'd upon by Vernon, which, however, did not happen for some years after. I believe i have omitted mentioning that, in my first voyage from Boston, being becalm 'd off Block Island, our people set about catching cod, and hauled up a good many. Hitherto I had stuck to my resolution of not eating animal 51 Benjamin Franklin food, and on this occasion I considered, with my master Tryon, the taking every fish as a 4 kind of unprovoked murder, since none of them had, or ever could do us any injury that might justify the slaughter. All this seemed very reasonable. But I had formerly been a great lover of fish, and, when this came hot out of the frying-pan, it smelt admirably well. I bal- ^nc'd some time between principle and inclina- tion, till I recollected that, when the fish were opened, I saw smaller fish taken out of their stomachs ; then thought I, ** If you eat one an- •other, I don't see why we may n't eat you." So I din'd upon cod very heartily, and con- tinued to eat with other people, returning only now and then occasionally to a vegetable diet. So convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable .creature,, since it enables one to find or make , a reason for every thing one has a mind to do. Keimer and 1 liv'd on a pretty good familiar footing, and agreed tolerably well, for lie sus- pected nothing of my setting up. He retained a great deal of his old enthusiasms and lov'd argumentation. We therefore had many dis- putations. I used to work him so with my So- cratic method, and had trepann'd him so often by questions apparently so distant from any point we had in hand, and yet by degrees lead to the point, and brought him into difficulties and contradictions, that at last he grew ridicu- lously cautious, and would hardly answer me the most common question, without asking 52 Early Life first : *• What do you intend to infer from' that /" However, it gave him so high an opin- ion of my abilities in the confuting way, that he seriously proposed my being his colleague- in a project he had of setting up a new sect. He was to preach the doctrines, and I was to* confound all opponents. When he came to ex- plain with me upon the doctrines, I found sev- eral conundrums which I objected to, unless I might have my way a little too, and introduce- some of mine. Keimer wore his beard at full length, because- somewhere in the Mosaic law it is said, ** Thou shalt not mar the corners of thy ^eard.** He likewise kept the Seventh day, Sabbath ; and these two points were essentials with him. I dislik'd both ; but agreed to admit them upon condition of his adopting the doctrine of using; no animal food. ** I doubt," said he, " my con- stitution will not bear that.'* I assured him it would, and that he would be better for it. He- was usually a great glutton, and I promised myself some diversion in half starving him. He agreed to try the practice, if I would keep- him company. I did so, and we held it for three months. We had our victuals dress'd, and brought to us regularly by a woman in the neighborhood, who had from me a list of forty dishes, to be prepar'd for us at different times, in all which there was neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, and the whim suited me the better at this time from the cheapness of it, not costing us- 53 Benjamin Franklin above eighteen pence sterling each per week. 1 have since kept several Lents most strictly, leaving the common diet for that, and that for the common, abruptly, without the least incon- venience, so that I think there is little in the advice of making those changes by easy grada- tioto.s. I went on pleasantly, but poor Keimer suffered grievously, tired of the.projiect, long'd for the flesh-pots of Egypt, and order'd a roast pig. He invited me and two women friends to dine with him ; but, it being brought too soon upon table, he could not resist the temptation, \ and ate the whole before we came. I had made some courtship during this time to Miss Read. I had a great respect andaffecr tion for her, and had some reason to believe she had the same for me ; but, as I was about to take a long voyage, and we were both very young, only a little above eighteen, it was thought must prudent by her mother to prevent our going too far at present, as a marriage, if it was to take place, would be more convenient after my return, when I should be, as I expect- ed, set up in my business. Perhaps, too, slie thought my expectations not so well founded as I imagined them to be. My chief acquaintances at this time were Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph, all lovers of reading. The two first were clerks to an eminent scrivener or convey- ^ ancer in the town, Charles Brogden ; the other was clerk to a merchant. Watson was a pious, 54 Early Life sensible yottng man, of great integrity ; the others rather more lax in their principles of re- ligion, particularly Ralph, who, as well as Col- lins, had been unsettled by me, for which they both made me sufiPer. Osborne was sensible, candid, frank ; sincere and affectionate to his friends ; but, in literary matters, too fond ^f criticising. Ralph was ingenious, genteel in his manners, and extremely eloquent ; I think I never knew a^ prettier talker. Both of them great admirers of poetry, and began to try their hands in little pieces. Many pleasant walks we four had together on Sundays into the woods, near Schuylkill, where we read to one another, and conferr'd on what we read. Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the study of poetry, not doubting but he might become emi- nent in it, and make his fortune by it, alleging that the best poets must, when they first began to write, make as many faults as he did. Os- borne dissuaded him, assur'd him he had no genius for poetry, and ad vis* d him to think of nothing beyond the business he was bred to ; that, in the mercantile way, tho* he had no stock, he might, by his diligence and punc- tuality, recommend himself to employment as a factor, and in time acquire wherewith to trade on his own account. I approv'd the amusing one's self with poetry now and then, so far as to improve one's language, but no farther. On this it was propos'd that we should each of us, at our next meeting, produce a piece of 55 Benjamin Franklin our own composing, in order to improve by our mutual observations, criticisms, and corrections. As language and expression were what we had in view, we excluded all considerations of in- vention by agreeing that the task should be a version of the eighteenth Psalm, which de- scribes the descent of Deity. When the time of our meeting grew nigh, Ralph called on me first, and let me know his piece was ready. I told him I had been busy, and, having little in- clination, had done nothing. He then show'd me his piece for my opinion, and I much ap- prov'd it, as it appear' d to me to have great merit. " Now," says he, " Osborne never will -allow the least merit in any thing of mine, but Tnakes looo criticisms out of mere envy. He is not so jealous of you ; I wish, therefore, you would take this piece, and produce it as yours ; I will pretend not to have had time, and so pro- duce nothing. We shall then see what he will •say to it." It was agreed, and I immediately transcrib'd it, that it might appear in my own hand. We met ; Watson's performance was read ; there were some beauties in it, but many de- fects. Osborne's was read ; it was much bet- ter ; Ralph did it justice ; remarked some faults, but applauded the beauties. He himself had nothing to produce. I was backward ; seemed desirous of being excused ; had not had ;sufficient time to correct, etc.; but no excuse "would be admitted ; produce I must. It was 56 Early Life read and repeated ; Watson and Osborne gave- Tip the contest, and join'd in applauding it. Ralph only made some criticisms, and propos'd some amendments ; but I defended my text. Osborne was against Ralph, and told him he was no better a critic than poet, so he dropt the argument. As the two went home together, Osborne expressed himself still more strongly in favor of what he thought my production ; having restrained himself before, as he said, lest I should think it flattery. " But who would have imagined," said he, "that Franklin had been capable of such a performance ; such painting, such force, such fire ! He has even improv'd the original. In his common conver- sation he seems to have no choice of words ; he hesitates and blunders ; and yet, good God t how he writes !" When we next met, Ralph discovered the trick we had plaid him, and Os- borne was a little laught at. This transaction fixed Ralph in his resolution of becoming a poet. I did all I could to dis- suade him from it, but he continued scribbling verses till Pope cured him. He became, how- ever, a pretty good prose writer. More of him hereafter. But, as I may not have occasion again to mention the other two, I shall just re- mark here, that Watson died in my arms a few- years after, much lamented, being the best of our set. Osborne went to the West Indies, where he became an eminent lawyer and made- money, but died young. Pie and I had made a 57 Benjamin Franklin serious agreement, that the one who ha|^en*d first to die should, if possible, make a friendly visit to the other, and acquaint him how he found things in that separate state. But he never fulfiird his promise. The governor, seeming to like my company, had me frequently to his house, and his setting me up was always mention'd as a fixed thing. I was to take with me letters recommendatory to a number of his friends, besides the letter of credit to furnish me with the necessary money for purchasing the press and types, paper, etc. For these letters I was appointed to call at dif- ferent times, when they were to be ready ; but a future time was still named. Thus he went on till the ship, whose departure too had been several times postponed, was on the point of sailing. Then, when I call'd to take my leave and receive the letters, his secretary. Dr. Bard, came out to me and said the governor was ex- tremely busy in writing, but would be down at Newcastle before the ship, and there the letters would be delivered to .Tie. Ralph, though married, and having one child, had determined to accompany me on this voy- age. It was thought he intended to establish a correspondence, and obtain goods to sell on commission ; but I found afterwards, that, thro' some discontent with his wife's relations, he proposed to leave her on their hands, and never return again. Having taken leave of my friends, and intcrchang'd some promises with «i8 Early Life Miss Read, I left Philadelphia in the ship, which anchor' d at Newcastle. The governor was there ; but when I went to his lodging, the secretary came to me from him with the civil- lest. message in the world, that he could not then see me, being engaged in business of the utmost importance, but should send the letters to me on board, wish'd me heartily a good voy- age and a speedy return, etc. . I returned on board a little puzzled, but still not doubting. Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a famous lawyer of Philadelphia, had taken passage in the same ship for himself and son. and with Mr. Den- ham, a Quaker merchant, and Messrs. Onion and Russel, masters of an iron work in Mary- land, had engag'd the great cabin ; so that Ralph and I were forced to take up with a berth in the steerage, and none on board knowing us, were considered as ordinary persons. But Mr. Hamilton and his son (it was James, since governor) return* d from Newcastle to Philadel- phia, the father being recall' d by a great fee to plead for a seized ship ; and, just before we sail'd, Colonel French coming on board, and showing me great respect, I was more taken notice of, and, with my friend Ralph, invited by the other gentlemen to come into the cabin, there being now room. Accordingly, we re- mov'd thither. Understanding thait Colonel French had brought on board the governor's despatches, I ask'd the captain for those letters that were to 59 Benjamin Franklin be put tinder my care. He said all were put into the bag together and he could not then come at them ; but, before we landed in Eng- land, I should have an opportunity of picking them out ; so I was satisfied for the present, and we proceeded on our voyage. We had a sociable company in the cabin, and lived un- commonly well, having the addition of all Mr. Hamilton's stores, who had laid in plentifully. In this passage Mr. Denham contracted a friend- ship for me that continued during his life. The voyage was otherwise not a pleasant one, as we had a great deal of bad weather. When we came into the Channel, the captain kept his word with me, and gave me an oppor- tunity of examining the bag for the governor's letters. I found none* upon which my name was put as under my care. 1 picked out six or seven, that, by the handwriting, I thought might be the promised letters, especially as one of them was directed to Basket, the king's printer, and another to some stationer. We arriv'd in London the 24th of December, 1724. I waited upon the stationer, who came first in my way, delivering the letter as from Governor Keith. " I don't know such a person,'* says he ; but, opening the letter, " O ! this is from Riddlesden. I have lately found him to be a complete rascal, and I will have nothing to do with him, nor receive any letters from him." * Evidently intended for "some.'*— Ed. 60 Early Life So, putting the letter into my hand, he tum'd on his heel and left me tb serve some customer. I was surpris'd to find these were not the gov- ernor's letters ; and, after recollecting and com- paring circumstances, I began to doubt his sin- cerity. I found my friend Denham, and opened the whole affair to him. He let me into Keith's character ; told me there was not the least probability that he had written any letters for me ; that no one, who knew him, had the small- est dependence on him ; and he laught at the notion of the governor's giving me a letter of credit, having, as he said, no credit to give. On my expressing some concern about what I should do, he advised me to endeavor getting some employment in the way of my business. " Among the printers here," said he, " you will improve yourself, and when you return to America, you will set up to greater advantage. " We both of us happened to know, as well as the stationer, that Riddlesden, the attorney, was a very knave. He had half ruin'd Miss Read's father by persuading him to be bound for him. By this letter it appear'd there was a secret scheme on foot to the prejudice of Ham- ilton (suppos'd to be then coming over with us); and that Keith was concerned in it with Riddles- den. Denham, who was a friend of Hamil- ton's, thought he ought to be acquainted with it ; so, when he arriv'd in England, which was soon after, partly from resentment and ill-will to Keith and Riddlesden, and partly from good- 6i Benjamin Franklin will to him, I waited on him, and gave him the letter. He thank' d me cordially, the informa- tion being of importance to him ; and from that time he became my friend, greatly to my ad- vantage afterwards on many occasions. But what shall we think of a governor's play- ing such pitiful tricks, and imposing so grossly on a poor ignorant boy ! It was a habit he had acquired. He wish'd to please everybody ; and, having little to give, he gave expectations. He was otherwise an ingenious, sensible man, a pretty good writer, and a good governor for the people, tho* not for his constituents, the proprietaries, whose instructions he sometimes disregarded. Several of our best laws were of his planning and passed during his adminis- tration. Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took lodgings together in Little Britain at three shillings and sixpence a week — as much as we could then afford. He found some rela- tions, but they were poor, and unable to assist him. He now let me know his intentions of re- maining in London, and that he never meant to return to Philadelphia. He had brought no money with him, the whole he could muster having been expended in paying his passage. I had fifteen pistoles ; so he borrowed occasion* ally of me to subsist while he was looking out for business. He first endeavored to get into the playhouse, believing himself qualify'd for an actor, but Wilkes, to whom he apply' d, ad- 62 Early Life vis*d him candidly not to think of that employ- ment, as it was impossible he should succeed in it. Then he propos'd to Roberts, a publisher in Paternoster Row, to write for him a weekly paper like the Spectator^ on certain conditions, which Roberts did not approve. Then he en- deavored to get employment as a hackney writer, to copy for the stationers and lawyers about the Temple, but could find no vacancy. I immediately got into work at Palmer's, then a famous printing-house in Bartholomew Close, and here I continu'd near a year. I was pretty diligent, but spent with Ralph a good deal of my earnings in going to plays and other places of amusement. W© had together consumed all my pistoles, and now just rubbed on from hand to mouth. He seem'd quite to forget his wife and child, and I, by degrees, my engagements with Miss Read, to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that was to let her know I was not likely soon to return. This was an- other of the great errata of my life, which I ^ should wish to correct if I were to live it over again. In fact, by our expenses, I was con- , stantly kept unable to pay my passage. At Palmer's I was employed in composing for the second edition of WoUaston's ** Religion of Nature." Some of his reasonings not ap- pearing to me well fotmded, I wrote a little metaphysical piece in which I made remarks on them. It was entitled "Dissertation on Lib- ^ erty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I in- 63 Benjamin Franklin scribed it to my friend Ralph ; I printed a small number. It occasion 'd my being more consider'd by Mr. Palmer as a young man of some ingenuity, tlio* he seriously expostulated with me upon the principles of my pamphlet » which to him appear'd abominable. My print- ing this pamphlet was another erratum. While I lodg'd in' Little Britain I made an acquaint- ance with one Wilcox, a bookseller, whose shop was at the next door. He had an immense col- lection of second-hand books. Circulating libraries were not then in use ; but we agreed that, on certain reasonable terms, which I have now forgotten, I might take, read, and return any of his books. This I esteem'd a great ad- vantage, and I made as much use of it as I could. My pamphlet by some means falling into the hands of one Lyons, a surgeon, author of a book entitled "The Infallibility of Human Judgment," it occasioned an acquaintance be- tween us. He took great notice of me, called on me often to converse on those subjects, car- ried me to the Horns, a pale ale house in Lane, Cheapside, and introduced me to Dr. ^ Mandeville, author of the ** Fable of the Bees," who had a club there, of which he was the soul, being a most facetious, entertaining compan- ion. Lyons, too, introduced me to Dr. Pem- berton, at Batson's Coffee-house, who promis'd to give me an opportunity, some time or other, of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of which I 64 Early Life was extremely desirous ; but this never hap- pened. I had brought over a few curiosities, among which the principal was a purse made of the asbestos, which purifies by fire. Sir Hans ^ Sloane heard of it. came to see me, and invited me to his house in Bloomsbury Square, where he showed me all his curiosities, and persuaded me to let him add that to the number, for which he paid me handsomely. In our house there lodg'd a young woman, a milliner, who, I think, had a shop in the Clois- ters. She had been genteelly bred, was sensi- ble and lively, and of most pleasing conversa- tion. Ralph read plays to her in the evenings, they grew intimate, she took another lodging, and he followed her. They liv'd together some time ; but, he being still out of business, and her income not sufficient to maintain them with her child, he took a resolution of going from London, to try for a country school, which he thought himself well qualified to undertake, as he wrote an excellent hand, and was a master of arithmetic and accounts. This, however, he deemed a business below him, and confident of future better fortune, when he should be un- willing to have it known that he once was so meanly employed, he changed his name, and did me the honor to assume mine ; for 1 soon after had a letter from him, acquainting me that he was settled in a small village (in Berk- shire, I think it was, where he taught reading 65 Benjamin Franklin and writing to ten or a dozen boys, at sixpence each per week), recommending Mrs. T to my care, and desiring me to write to him, direct- ing for Mr. Franklin, schoolmaster, at such a place. He continued to write frequently, sending me large specimens of an epic poem which he was then composing, and desiring my remarks and corrections. These I gave him from time to time, but endeavor 'd rather to discourage his proceeding. One of Young's Satires was then just published. I copy'd and sent him a great part of it, which set in a strong light the folly of pursuing the Muses with any hope of ad- vancement by them. All was in vain ; sheets of the poem continued to come by every post. In the meantime Mrs. T , having on his ac- count lost her friends and business, was often in distresses, and us'd to send for me, and bor- row what I could spare to help her out of them. I grew fond of her company, and, being at that time under no religious restraint, and presum- ing upon my importance to her, I attempted familiarities (another erratum), which she re- puls'd with a proper resentment, and acquainted him with my behaviour. This made a breach between us ; and, when he returned again to London, he let me know he thought I had can- celled all the obligations he had been under to me. So I found I was never to expect his re- paying me what I lent to him, or ad vane' d for him. This, however, was not then of much v66 Early Life consequence, as he was totally unable ; and in the loss of his friendship I found myself re- lieved from a burthen. I now began to think of getting a little money beforehand, and, ex- pecting better work, I left Palmer's to work at Watts* s, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, a still greater printing-house. Here I continued all the rest of my stay in London. At my first admission into this printing-house I took to working at press, imagining I felt a want of the bodily exercise I had been us'd to in America, where presswork is mix'd with composing. I drank only water ; the other workmen, near fifty in number, were great guzzlers of beer. On occasion, I carried up and down stairs a large form of types in each hand, when others carried but one in both hands. They wondered to see, from this and several instances, that the Water- A7nerican^ as they called me, was stronger than them- selves, who drank strong beer ! We had an alehouse boy who attended always in the house to supply the workmen. My companion at the press drank every day a pint before breakfast, a pint at breakfast with his bread and cheese, a pint between breakfast and dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint in the afternoon about six o'clock, and another when he had done his day's work. I thought it a detestable custom ; but it was necessary, he suppos'd, to drink strong beer that he might be strong to labor. I endeav- ored to convince him that the bodily strength Benjamin Franklin afforded by beer could only be in proportion to the grain or flour of the barley dissolved in the water of which it wsts made ; that there was more flour in a pennyworth of bread ; and therefore, if he would eat that with a pint of water, it would give him more strength than a quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had four or five shillings to pay out of his wages every Saturday night for that muddling liquor ; an expense I was free from. And thus these ^ poor devils keep themselves always under. Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have me in the composing-room, I left the press- men ; a new bien venu or sum for drink, being five shillings, was demanded of me by the com- positors. I thought it an imposition, as I had paid below ; the master thought so too, and forbad my paying it. I stood out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered as an ex- communicate, and had so many little pieces of private mischief done me, by mixing my sorts, transposing my pages, breaking my matter, etc., etc., if I were ever so little out of the room, and all ascribed to the chapel ghost, which they said ever haunted those not regularly ad- mitted, that, notwithstanding the master's pro- tection, I found myself oblig'd to comply and pay the money, con vine' d of the folly of being on ill terms with those one is to live with con- tinually. I was now on a fair footing with them, and soon acquir'd considerable influence. I 68 Early Life propos'd some reasonable alterations in their chapel laws, and carried them against all oppo- sition. From my example, a great part of them left their muddling breakfast of beer, and bread, and cheese, finding they could with me be sup- ply 'd from a neighboring house with a large porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled with pepper, crumb'd with bread, and a bit of butter in it, for the price of a pint of beer, viz. , three half-pence. This was a more comfortable as well as cheaper breakfast, and kept their heads clearer. Those who continued sotting with beer all day, were often, by not paying, out of credit at the ulehouse, and us'd to make inter- est with me to get beer ; their lights as they phi^ased it, being out. I watch 'd the pay- table on Saturday night, and collected what I stood engag'd for them, having to pay sometimes near thirty shillings a week on their accounts. This, and my being esteem'd a pretty good riggite^ that is, a jocular verbal satirist, sup- ported my consequence in the society. My constant attendance (I never making a St. Monday) recommended me to the master ; and my uncommon quickness at composing occa- sioned my being put upon all work of dispatch, which -was generally better paid. So I went on Jiow very agreeably. My lodging in Little Britain being too re- mote, I found another in Duke-street, opposite to the Romish Chapel. It was two pair of stairs backwards, at an Italian warehouse. A widow 69 Benjamin Franklin lady kept the house ; she had a daughter, and a maid servant, and a journeyman who attended the warehouse, but lodg'd abroad. After send- ing to inquire my character at the house where I last lodg'd she agreed to take me in at the same rate, 3s. 6d. per week ; cheaper, as she said, from the protection she expected in hav- ing a man lodge in the house. She was a wid- ow, an elderly woman ; had been bred a Prot- estant, being a clergyman's daughter, but was converted to the Catholic religion by her hus- band, whose memory she much revered ; had lived much among people of distinction, and knew a thousand anecdotes of them as far back as the time of Charles the Second. She was lame in her knees with the gout, and, therefore, seldom stirred out of her room, so sometimes wanted company ; and hers was so highly amusing to me, that I was sure to spend an evening with her whenever she desired it. Our supper was only half an anchovy each, 'on a very little strip of bread and butter, and half a pint of ale between us ; but the entertainment was in her conversation. My always keeping good hours, and giving little trouble in the family, made her unwilling to part with me ; so that, when I talk'd of a lodging I had heard of, nearer my business, for two shillings a week, which, intent as I now was on saving money, made some difference, she bid me not think of it, for she would abate me two shillings a week for the future ; so I remained with her at one 70 Early Life shilling and sixpence as long as I staid in Lon- don. In a garret of her house there lived a maiden lady of seventy, in the most retired manner, of whom my landlady gave me this account : that she was a Roman Catholic, had been sent abroad when young, and lodg'd in a nunnery with an intent of becoming a nun ; but. the country not agreeing with her, she returned to England, where, there being no nunnery, she had vow'd to lead the life of a' nun, as near as might be done in those circumstances. Ac- cordingly, she had given all her estate to char- itable uses, reserving only twelve pounds a year to live on, and out of this sum she still gave a great deal in charity, living herself on water- gruel only, and using no fire but to boil it. She had lived many years in that garret, being permitted to remain there gratis by successive Catholic tenants of the house below, as they deemed it a blessing to have her there. A priest visited her to confess her every day. ** I have ask'd her," says my landlady, " how she, as she liv'd, could possibly find so much employment for a confessor. " " Oh," said she, '* it is impossible to avoid vain thoughts^ I was permitted once to visit her. She was cheer- ful and polite, and con vers' d pleasantly. The room was clean, but had no other furniture than a matras, a table with a crucifix and book, a stool which she gave me to sit on, and a picture over the chimney of Saint Veronica displaying 71 Benjamin Franklin her handkerchief, with the. miraculous figure of Christ's bleeding face on it, which she ex- plained to me with great seriousness. She look'd pale, but was never sick ; and I give it as another instance on how small an income, life and health may be supported. At Watts's printing-house I contracted an acquaintance with an ingenious young man, one Wygate, who, having wealthy relations, had. been better educated than most printers ; was a tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and lov'd reading. I taught him and a friend of his to swim at twice going into the river, and they soon became good swimmers. They in- troduc'd me to some gentlemen from the coun- try, who went to Chelsea by water to see the College and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our return, at the request of the company, whose curiosity Wygate had excited, I stripped and leaped into the river, and swam from near Chelsea to Blackfriar's, performing on the way many feats of activity, both upon and under the water, that surpris'd and pleas' d those to whom they were novelties. I had from a child been ever delighted with this exercise, had studied and practis'd all Thevenot's motions and positions, added some of my own, aiming at the graceful and easy as well as the useful. All these I took this oc- casion of exhibiting to the company, and was much flatter' d by their admiration ; and ■^ygate, who was desirous of becoming a mas- 72 Early Life ter.'greTr more and more attach 'd to me on that accotmt, as well as from the similarity of our studies. He ;at length proposed to me travel- ling all over Europe together, supporting our- selves everywhere by working at our business. I was once inclined to it ; but, mentioning it to my good friend, Mr. Denham, with whom I often spent an hour when I had leisure, he dis- suaded me from it, advising me to think only of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was now about to do. I must record one trait of this good man's character. He had formerly been in business at Bristol, but failed in debt to a number of people, compounded and went to America. There, by a close application to business as a merchant, he acquir'd a plentiful fortune in a few years.- Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited .his old creditors to an en- tertainment, at which he thank* d them for the easy composition they had favored him with, and, when they expected nothing but the treat, every man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a banker for the full amount of the unpaid remainder, with interest. He now told me he was about to return to Philadelphia, and should carry over a great quantity of goods, in order to open a store there. He propos'd to take me over as his clerk, to keep his books, in which he would instruct me, copy his letters, and attend the store. He added, that, as soon as J should be 73 Benjamin Franklin acquainted with mercantile business, he would promote me by sendmg me with a cargo of flour and bread, etc., to the West Indies, and procure me commissions from others which would be profitable ; and, if I manag'd well, would establish me handsomely. The thing pleas' d me ; for I was grown tired of London, remembered with pleasure the happy months I had spent in Pennsylvania, and wish'd again to see it ; therefore I immediately agreed on the terms of fifty pounds a year, Pennsylvania money ; less, indeed, than my present gettings as a compositor, but affording a better prospect. I now took leave of printing, as I thought, for ever, and was daily employed in my new business, going about with Mr. Denham among the tradesmen to purchase various articles, and seeing them pack'd up, doing errands, calling upon workmen to dispatch, etc ; and, when all was on board, I had a few days' leisure. On one of these days, I was, to my surprise, sent for by a great man I knew only by name, a Sir William Wyndham, and I waited upon him. He had heard by some means or other of my swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriar's, and of my teaching Wygate and another young man to swim in a few hours. He had two sons, about to set out on their travels ; he wish'd to have them first taught swimming, and proposed to gratify me handsomely if I would teach them. They were not yet come to town, and my stay was tmcertain, so I could not under- take it ; but from this incident I thought it 74 Early Life likely that, if I were to remain in England and open a swimming-school, I might get a good deal of money ; and it struck me so strongly, that, had the overture been sooner made me, probably I should not so soon have returned to America. After many years, you and I had something of more importance to do with one of these sons of Sir William Wyndham, become Earl of Egremont, which I shall mention in its place. Thus I spent about eighteen months in Lon- don ; most part of the time I work'd hard at my business, and spent but little upon myself except in seeing plays and in books. My friend Ralph had kept me poor ; he owed me about twenty-seven pounds, which I was now never likely to receive ; a great sum out of my small earnings ! I lov'd him, notwithstanding, for he had many amiable qualities. I had by no means improved my fortune ; but I had picked up some very ingenious acquaintance, whose conversation was of great advantage to ine ; and I had read considerably. We sail'd from Gravesend on the 23d of July, 1726. For the incidents of the voyage, I refer you to my Journal, where you will find them all minutely related. Perhaps the most important part of that journal is the pla7i to be found in it, which I formed at sea, for regulating my future conduct in life. It is the more remark- able, as being formed when I was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite thro' old age. 7S Settling Dawn. A friendly correspondence as neighbors and old acquamtances had continued between me and Mr. Read's family, who all had a regard for me from the time of my first lodging in their house. I was often invited there and con- sulted in their affairs, wherein I sometimes was of service. I piti'd poor Miss Read's* unfortu- nate situation, who was generally dejected, seldom cheerful, and avoided company. I con- sidered my giddiness and inconstancy when in London as in a great degree the cause of her unhappiness, tho' the mother was good enough to think the fault more her own than mine, as she had prevented our marrying before I went thither, and persuaded the other match in my absence. Our mutual affection was revived, but there were -now great objections to our union. The match was indeed looked upon as invalid, a preceding wife being said to be living in England ; but this could not easily be prov'd, because of the distance ; and , tho* there was a report of his death, it was not certain. Then, tho' it should be true, he had left many debts, * She had in the interval made an unhappy mar- riage, and was separated from her husband. 76 Settling Down which his successor might be call'd upon to pay. We ventured, however, over all these difficulties, and I took her to wife, September ist, 1730. None of the inconveniences hap- pened that we had apprehended ; she proved a good and faithful helpmate, assisted me much by attending shop ; we throve together, and have ever mutually endeavor 'd to make each other happy. Thus I corrected that great er- ratum as well as I could.* About this time, our club meeting, not at a tavern, but in a little room of Mr. Grace's, set apart for that purpose, a proposition was made by me, that, since our books were often referr'd to in our disquisitions upon the queries, it might be convenient to us to have them altogether where we met, that upon occasion they might be consulted ; and by thus clubbing our books to a common library, we should, while we lik'd to keep them together, have each of us the ad- vantage of using the books of all the other members, which would be nearly as beneficial as if each owned the whole. It was lik'd and agreed to, and we fill'd one end of the room with such books as we could best spare. The number was not so great as we expected ; and tho' they had been of great use, yet some in- conveniences occurring for want of due care of them, the collection, after about a year, was separated, and each took his books home again. ♦ Mrs. Franklin survived her marriage over forty years. She died December iq, 1774.— Ed. 77 Benjamin Franklin And now I set on foot my first project of a public nature, that for a subscription library. I drew up the proposals, got them put into form by our great scrivener, Brockden. and, by the help of my friends in the Junto,* procured fifty subscribers of forty shillings each to begin with, and ten shillings a year for fifty years, the term our company was to continue. We afterwards obtain *d a charter, the company being increased to one hundred ; this was the mother of all the North American subscription libraries, now so numerous. It is become a great thing itself, and continually increasing. These libraries have improved the general conversation of the Americans, made the common tradesmen and farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen from other countries, and perhaps have contributed in some degree to the stand so generally made throughout the colonies in defence of their privileges. At the time I establish 'd myself in Pennsyl- vania, there was not a good bookseller's shop in any of the colonies to the southward of Boston. In New York and Philadelphia the printers were indeed stationers ; they sold only paper, etc., almanacs, ballads, and a few common school-books. Those who lov'd reading were oblig'd to send for their books from England ; the members of the Junto had each a few. We * A young men's club for mutual improvement, formed by Franklin. 78 Settling Down had left the alehouse, where we first met, and hired a room to hold our club in. I propos'd that we should all of us bring our books to that room, where they would not only be ready to consult in our conferences, but become a com- mon benefit, each of us being at liberty to bor- row such as he wish'd to read at home. This was accordingly done, and for some time con- tented us. Finding the advantage of this little collec- tion, I propos'd to render the benefit from books more common, by commencing a public sub- scription library. I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that would be necessary, and got a skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brockden, tO' put the whole in form of articles of agreement to be subscribed, by which each subscriber en- gag'd to pay a certain sum down for the first purchase of books, and an annual contribution for increasing them. So few were the readers at that time in Philadelphia, and the majority of us so poor, that I was not able, with great industry, to find more than fifty persons, mostly young tradesmen, willing to pay down for this purpose forty shillings each, and ten shillings per annum. On this little fund we began. The books were imported ; the library was opened one day in the week for lending to the subscribers, on their promissory notes to pay double the value if not duly returned. The in- stitution soon manifested its utility', was imi- tated by other towns, and in other provinces. 79 Benjamin Franklin The libraries were augmented by donations; reading became fashionable ; and our people, having no public amusements to divert their attention from study, became better acquainted with books, and in a few years were observed by strangers to be better instructed and more intelligent than people of the same rank gen- erally are in other countries. When we were about to sign the above-men- tioned articles, which were to be binding on us, our heirs, etc., for fifty years, Mr. Brockden, the scrivener, said to us: "You are young men, but it is scarcely probable that any of you will live to see the expiration of the term fix'd in the instrument." A.number of us, however, are yet living ; but the instrument was after a few years rendered null by a charter that incor- porated and gave perpetuity to the company. The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting the subscriptions, made me soon feel the impropriety of presenting one's self as tiie proposer of any useful project, that might be suppos'd to raise one's reputation in the small- est degree above that of one's neighbors, when one has need of their assistance to accomplish that -project. I therefore put myself as much as I could out of sight, and stated it as a scheme of a number of friends^ who had requested me to go about and propose it to such as they thought lovers of reading. In this way my affair went on more smoothly, and I ever after practis'd it on such occasions ; and, from my 80 Settling' Down frequent sticcesses; can heartily recommend it. The present little sacrifice of ytmr vanity will afterwards be amply repaid. If it remains a while uncertain to whom the merit belongs, some one more vain than yourself will be en- couraged to claim it, and. then even envy will be disposed to do you justice by plucking those assumed feathers, and restoring them to their right owner. This library aflforded me the means of im- provement by constant study, for which I set apart an hour or two each day, and thus re- paired in some degree the loss of the learned education my father once intended for me. Reading was the only amusement I allow' d myself. I spent no time in taverns, games, or frolics of any kind ; and my industry in my business continu'd as indefatigable as it was necessary. I was indebted for my printing- house ; I had a young family coming on to be educated, and I had to contend with for busi- ness two printers, who were established in the place before me. My circumstances, however, grew daily easier. My original habits of fru- gaUty continuing, and my father having, among his instructions to me when a boy, frequently repeated a proverb of Solomon, ** Seest thou a man diligent in his calling, he shall stand be- fore kings, he shall not stand before mean men," I from thence considered industry as a means of obtaining wealth and distinction, which encourag'd me, tho' I did not think that 8i Benjamin Franklin I should ever literally stand before kings, which, however, has since happened ; for 1 have stood before ^z/^, and even had the honor of sitting down with one, the King of Denmark, to dinner. We have an English proverb that says, '* He that would thrive y must ask his wife** It was lucky for me that I had one as much dis- pos'd to industry and frugality as myself. She assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding and stitching pamphlets, tending shop, purchas- ing old linen rags for the paper-makers, etc., etc. We kept no idle servants, our table was plain and simple, our furniture of the cheapest- For instance, my breakfast was a long time bread and milk (no tea), and I ate it out of a twopenny earthen porringer, with a pewter spoon. But mark how luxury will enter fami- lies, and make a progress, in spite of principle : being call'd one morning to breakfast, I found it in a china bowl, with a spoon of silver ! They had been bought for me without my knowledge by my wife, and had cost her the enormous sum of Ihree-and-twenty shillings, for which she had no other excuse or apology to make, but that she thought her husband de- serv'd a silver spoon and china bowl as well as any of his neighbors. This was the first ap- pearance of plate and china in our house, which afterward, in a course of years, as our wealth increas'd, augmented gradually to several hun- dred pounds in value. 82 Settling Down I had been religiously educated as a Presby- terian ; and tho' some of the dogmas of that persuasion, such as the eternal decrees of God J e lectio fly reprobation^ etc.y appeared to me unintelligible, others doubtful, and I early absented myself from the public assemblies of the sect, Sunday being my studying day, I never was without some religious principles. I never doubted, for instance, the existence of the Deity ; that he made the world, and gov- erned it by his Providence ; that the most ac- ceptable service of God was the doing good to man ; that our souls are immortal ; and that all crime will be punished, and virtue rewarded, either here or hereafter. These I esteem 'd the essentials of every religion ; and, being to be found in all the religions we had in our coun- try, I respected them all, tho* with different de- grees of respect, as I found them more or less mix'd with other articles, which, without any tendency to inspire, promote, or confirm moral- ity, serv'd principally to divide us, and make us unfriendly to one another. This respect to all, with an opinion that the worst had some good effects, indue' d me to avoid all discourse that might tend to lessen the good opinion an- other might have of his own religion ; and as our province increas'd in people, and new places of worship were continually wanted, and gen- erally erected by voluntary contribution, my mite for such purpose, whatever might be the sect, was never refused. 83 Benjamin Franklin Tho* I seldom attended any public worship, I had still an opinion of its propriety, and of its utility when rightly conducted, and I regularly paid my annual subscription for the support of the only Presbyterian minister or meeting we had in Philadelphia. He us'd to visit me some- times as a friend, and admonish me to attend his administrations, and I was now and then prevail' d on to do so, once for five Sundays suc- cessively. Had he been in my opinion a good preacher, perhaps I might have continued, not- withstanding the occasion I had for the Sun- day's leisure in my course of study ; but his discourses were chiefly either polemic argu- ments, or explications of the peculiar doctrines of our sect, and were all to me very dry, unin- teresting, and unedifying, since not a single moral principle was inculcated or enforc'd, their aim seeming to be rather to make us Presby- < terians than good citizens. At length he took for his text that verse of the fourth chapter of Philippians : " Finally^ brethren^ whatsoever things are true^ honesty just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there be any virtue, or any praise, think on these things.'' And I imagin'd, in a sermon on such a text, we could not miss of having some morality. But he confin'd himself to five points only, as meant by the apostle, viz.: i. Keeping holy the Sabbath day. 2. Being diligent in reading the holy Scriptures. 3. Attending duly the public worship. 4. Partaking of the Sac- 84 Settling Down rament. 5. Paying a due respect to God's min- isters. These might be all good things ; but, as they were not the kind of good things that I expected from that text, 1 despaired of ever meeting with them from any other, was dis- gusted, and attended his preaching no more. I had some years before compos' d a little Lit- urgy* or form of prayer, for my own private use (viz., in 1728), entitled " Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion." I return 'd to the use of this, and went no more to the public assem- blies. My conduct might be blamable, but I leave it, without attempting further to excuse it ; my present purpose being to relate facts, and not to make apologies for them. 85 Rules of Conduct. It was about this time I conceiv'd the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral per- fection. I wish'd to live without committing any fault at any time ; I would conquer all that either natural inclination, custom, or company might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might iiot always do the one and avoid the other. But I soon found I had undertaken a task of more difficulty than I had imagined. While my care was employ 'd in guarding against one fault, I was often surprised by an- other ; habit took the advantage of inattention ; inclination was sometimes too strong for rea- son. I concluded, at length, that the mere speculative conviction that it was our interest to be completely virtuous, was not sufficient to prevent our slipping ; and that the contrary habits must be broken, and good ones acquired and established, before we can have any de- pendence on a steady, uniform rectitude of con- duct. For this purpose I therefore contrived the following method. In the various enumerations of the moral vir- tues I had met with in my reading, I found the 86 Rules of Conduct catalogue more or less numerous, as different writers included more or fewer ideas under the same name. Temperance, for example, was by some confined to eating and drinking, while by others it was extended to mean the moder- ating every other pleasure, appetite, inclina- tion, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our avarice and ambition. I propos'd to myself, for the sake of clearness, to use rather more names, with fewer ideas annex 'd to each, than a few names with more ideas ; and I included under thirteen names of virtues all that at that time occurr'd to me as necessary or desirable, and annexed to each a short precept, which fully express' d the extent I gave to its meaning. These names of virtues, with their precepts, were : I. Temperanxe. Eat not to dullness ; drink not to elevation. 2. Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself ; avoid trifling conversation. 3. Order. Let all your things have their places ; let each part of your business have its time. 4. Resolution. Resolve to perform what you ought ; perform without fail what you resolve. 87 Benjamin Franklin 5. Frugality. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself ; />., waste nothing. 6. Industry. I Lose no time ; be always employed in some- thing useful ; cut off all unnecessary actions. 7. Sincerity. Use no hurtful deceit ; think innocently and justly ; and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8. Justice. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9. Moderation. Avoid extremes ; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve. 10. Cleanliness. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or habitation. II. Tranquillity. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. 12. Chastity. ^. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another's peace or reputation. 88 Rules of Conduct 13. Humility. Imitate Jesas and Socrates. My intention being to acquire the habitude of aU these virtues, I judg'd it would be well not to distract my attention by attempting the whole at once, but to "fix it on one of them at a time ; and, when I should be master of that, then to proceed to another, and so on, till I should have gone through the thirteen ; and, as the previous acquisition of some might facilitate the acquisition of certain others, I arrang'd them with that view, as they stand above. Temperance first, as it tends to procure that coolness and clearness of head, which is so nec- essary where constant vigilance was to be kept up, and guard maintained against the unremit- ting attraction of ancient habits, and the force of perpetual temptations. This being acquir'd and establish 'd. Silence would be more easy ; and my desire being to gain knowledge at the same time that I improv'd in virtue, and con- sidering that in conversation it was obtain 'd rather by the use of the ears than of the tongue, and therefore wishing to break a habit I was getting into of prattling, punning, and joking, which only made me acceptable to trifling com- pany, I gave Silence the second place. This and the next. Order, I expected would allow me more time for attending to my project and my studies. Resolution, once become habit- ual, would keep me firm in my endeavors to ob- tain all the subsequent virtues ; Frugality and 8q Benjamin Franklin Industry, freeing me from my remaining debt, and producing affluence and independence, would make more easy the practice of Sincerity and Justice, etc., etc. Conceiving then, that, agreeably to the advice of Pythagoras in his Golden Verses, daily esramination would be necessary, I contrived the following method for conducting that examination. I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each of the virtues. I rtd'd each page with red ink, so as to have seven columns, one for each day of the week, marking each column with a letter for the day. I cross' d these col- umns with thirteen red lines, marking the be- ginning of each line with the first letter of one of the virtues, on which line, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been committed respecting that virtue upon that day. I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of the virtues successively. Thus, in the first week, my great guard was to avoid every the least offence agaist Temperance, leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only marking every evening the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first line, marked T, clear of spots, I suppos'd the habit of that virtue so much strengthen 'd, and its opposite weaken' d. that I might venture ex- tending my attention to include the next, and for the following week keep both lines clear of 90 Rules of Conduct Form of the Pages, TEMPERANCE. EAT NOT TO DULNESS ; DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION. S. M. T. W. T. F. S. T. • S. * * * « o. ** * * « * * R. * « F. * * I. * S. J. M. C. • T. C. H. spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could go thro' a course complete in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. And like him who, having a garden to weed, does not attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, which would exceed his reach and his strength, but works 91 Benjamin Franklin on one of the beds at a time, and, having ac- complish'd the first, proceeds to a second, so I should have, I hoped, the encouraging pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress 1 made in virtue, by clearing successively my lines of their spots, till in the end, by a number of courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examination. This my little book had for its motto these lines from Addison's Cato : " Here will I hold. If ther 's a power above us (And that there is, all nature cries aloud Thro' all her works), He must delight in virtue ; And that which he delights in must be happy." Another from Cicero : " O vitae Philosophia dux ! O virtutum indagatrix expultrixque vitiorum! Unus dies, bene et ex preeceptis tuis actus, peccanti immortalitati est auteponendus." Another from the Proverbs of Solomon, speaking of wisdom or virtue : " Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleas- antness, and all her paths are peace." iii. i6, 17. And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I thought it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for obtaining it ; to this end I formed the following little prayer, which was prefix 'd to my tables of examination, for daily use : ''^ O powerful Goodness I bountiful Fat herl merciful Guide I Increase in me that wisdom which discovers my truest interest. Strengthen my resolutions to perform what that wisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices to 92 Rules of Conduct thy other children as the only return in my power for thy continual favours to me. I used also sometimes a little prayer which I took from Thomson's Poems, viz.: *' Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme ! O teach me what is good ; teach me Thyself ! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice. From every low pursuit ; and fill my soul With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ; Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss !" The' precept of Order requiring that every part of my business should have its allotted time^ one page in my little book contain'd the following scheme of employment for the twenty four hours of a natural day. The Morning. Question. What good shall I do this day? Noon. 5^ Rise, wash, and address 6 I Powerful Goodness i Con- (.trive day's business, and take the resolution of the day ; prosecute the present study, and breakfast. 8] 9 I Work. j 12 I Read, or overlook my ac- ( I f counts, and dine. Work. Evening. f 61 Put things in their places. Question. What good J 7! Supper. Music or diversion, have I done to-day ? Night. or conversation, tion of the day. 8 9J 10 II 12 I y Sleep 2 Examina- 11 93 Benjamin Franklin I enter 'd upon the execution of this plan for self-examination, and continu'd it with occa- sional intermissions for some time. I was sur- pris'd to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined ; but I had the satisfac- tion of seeing them diminish. To avoid the trouble of renewing now and then my little book, which, by scraping out the marks on the paper of old faults to make room for new ones in a new course, became full of holes, I trans- ferr'd my tables and precepts to the ivory leaves of a memorandum book, on which the lines were drawn with red ink, that made a durable stain, and on those lines I mark'd my faults with a black-lead pencil, which marks I could easily wipe out with a wet sponge. After a while I went thro' one course only in a year, and afterward only one in several years, till at length I omitted them entirely, being employ'd in voyages and business abroad, with a multi- plicity of affairs that interfered ; but I always carried my little book with me. My scheme of Order gave me the most trouble ; and I found that, tho' it might be practicable where a man's business was such as to leave him the disposition of his time, that of a journeyman printer, for instance, it was not possible to be exactly observed by a master, who must mix with the world, and often receive people of business at their own hours. Order ^ too, with regard to places for things, papers, etc., I found extremely difficult to acquire. I 94 Rules of Conduct had not been early accustomed to it, and, hav- ing an exceeding good memory, I was not so sensible of the inconvenience attending want of method. This article, therefore, cost me so much painful attention, and my faults in it vexed me so much, and I made so little progress in amendment, and had such frequent relapses, that I was almost ready to give up the attempt, and content myself with a faulty character in that respect, like the man who, in buying an ax of a smith, my neighbor, desired to have the whole of its surface as bright as the edge. The smith consented to grind it bright for him if he would turn the wheel ; he turn'd, while the smith press' d the broad face of the ax hard and heavily on the stone, which made the turning of it very fatiguing. The man came every now and then from the wheel to see how the work went on, and at length would take his ax as it was, without farther grinding. " No," said the smith, "turn on, turn on; we shall have it bright by-and-by ; as yet, it is only speckled." *' Yes," says the man, " but I think I like a speckled ax best.*' And I believe this may have been the case with many, who, having, for want of some such means as I employ' d, found the difficulty of obtaining good and breaking bad habits in other points of vice and virtue, have given up the struggle, and con- cluded that " a speckled ax was besf ; For something, that pretended to be reason, was every now and then suggesting to me that such 95 Benjamin Franklin extreme nicety as I exacted of myself might be a kind of foppery in morals, which, if it were known, would make me ridiculous ; that a per- fect character might be attended with the in- convenience of being envied and hated ; and that a benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself, to keep his friends in countenance. In truth, I found myself incorrigible with re- spect to order ; and now I am grown old, and my memory bad, I feel very sensibly the want of it. But, on the whole, tho' I never arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of ob- taining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the endeavour, a better and a happier man than I otherwise should have been if I had not at- tempted it ; as those who aim at perfect writing by imitating the engraved copies, tho' they never reach the wish'd-for excellence of those copies, their hand is mended by the endeavour, and is tolerable while it continues fair and legible- It may be well my posterity should be in- formed that to this little artifice, with the bless- ing of God, their ancestor ow'd the constant felicity of his life, down to his 79th year, in which this is written. What reverses may at- tend the remainder is in the hand of Provi- dence ; but, if they arrive, the reflection on past happiness enjoy'd ought to help his bear- ing them with more resignation. To Temper- ance he ascribes his long-continued health, and what is still left to him of a good constitution ; to Industry and Frugality, the early easiness of 96 Rules of Conduct his circumstances and acquisition of his fortune, with all that knowledge that enabled him to be a useful citizen, and obtained for him some de- gree of reputation among the learned ; to Sin- cerity and Justice, the confidence of his coun- try, and the honorable employs it conferred upon him ; and to the joint influence of the whole mass of the virtues, even in the imper- fect state he was able to acquire them, all that evenness of temper, and that cheerfulness in conversation, which makes his company still sought for, and agreeable even to his younger acquaintance. I hope, therefore, that some of my descendants may follow the example and reap the benefit. It will be remark'd that, tho' my scheme was not wholly without religion, there was in it no mark of any of the distinguishing tenets of any 'particular sect. I had purposely avoided them ; for, being fully persuaded of the utility and ex- cellency of my method, and that it might be serviceable to people in all religions, and in- tending some time or other to publish it, I would not have any thing in it that should prej- udice any one, of any sect, against it. I pur- posed writing a little comment on each virtue, in which I would have shown the advantages of possessing it, and the mischiefs attending its opposite vice ; and I should have called my book "The Art of Virtue,*'* because it would * Nothin}? so likely to make a man's fortune as virtue. — [Marg. note.] 97 Benjamin Franklin have shown the means and manner of obtain- ing virtue, which wotild have distinguished it from the mere exhortation to be good, that does not instruct and indicate the means, but is like the apostle's man of verbal charity, who only without showing to the naked and hungry how or where they might get clothes or victuals, ex- horted them to be fed and clothed. — ^James ii, 15, 16. But it so happened that my intention of twrit- ing and publishing this comment was never fulfilled. I did. indeed, from time to time, put down short hints of the sentiments, reasonings, etc. , to be made use of in it, some of which I have still by me ; but the necessary close atten- tion to private business in the earlier part of my life, and public business since, have occa- sioned my postponing it ; for, it being con- nected in my mind with a great and extensive project y that required the whole man to exe- cute, and which an unforeseen succession of employs prevented my attending to, it has hith- erto remained unfinish'd. In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce this doctrine, that vicious actions are not hurtftd because they are forbidden, but for- bidden because they are hurtful, the nature of man alone considered ; that it was, therefore, every one's interest to be virtuous who wish'd to be happy even in this world ; and I should, from this circumstance (there being always in the world a number of rich merchants, nobility, g8 Rules of Conduct states, and princes, who have need of honest instruments for the management of their affairs, and such being so rare), have endeavored to convince young persons that no qualities were so likely to make a poor man's fortune as those of probity and integrity. My list of virtues contained at first but twelve ; but a Quaker friend having kindly informed me that I was generally thought proud ; that my pride show'd itself frequently in conversa- tion ; that I was not content with being in the right when discussing any point, but was over- bearing, and rather insolent, of which he con- vinced me by mentioning several instances ; I determined endeavouring to cure myself, if I could, of this vice or folly among the rest, and I added Humility to my list, giving an exten- sive meaning to the word. I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the reality of this virtue, but I had a good deal ^ with regard to the appearance of it. I made it a rule to forbear all direct contradiction to the sentiments of others, and all positive asser- tion of my own. I even forbid myself, agree- ably to the old laws of our Junto, the use of every word or expression in the language that imported afix'd opinion, such as certainly^ tin- doubtedly^ etc., and I adopted, instead of them, / conceive^ I apprehend ^ or / imagine a thing to be so or so ; or it so appears to me at pres- ent. When another asserted something that I thought an error, I deny'd myself the pleasure 99 Benjamin Frsmklin of contradicting him abruptly, and of showing immediately some absurdity in his proposition ; and in answering I began by observing that in certain cases or circumstances his opinion would be right, but in the present case there appeared or seenCd to me some difference, etc. I soon found the advantage of this change in my man- ner; the conversations I engaged in went on more pleasantly. The modest way in which I propos'd my opinions procmr'd them a readier reception and less contradiction ; I had less mortification when I was found to be in the wrong, and I more easily prevail' d with others to give up their mistakes and join wit^j me when I happened to be in the right. And this mode, which I at first put on with some violence to natural inclination, became at length so easy, and so habitual to me, that per- haps for these fifty years past no one has ever heard a dogmatical expression escape me. And to this habit (after my character of integrity) I think it principally owing that I had early so much weight with my fellow-citizens when I proposed new institutions, or alterations in the old, and so much influence in public councils when I became a member ; for I was but a bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesi- tation in my choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet I generally carried my points. In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural passions so hard to subdue as pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle xoo Rules of Conduct it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, and will every now and then peep out and show himself ; you will see it, perhaps, often in this history ; for, even if I could con- ceive that I had completely overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility. [Thus far written at Passy, 1784.I xoi Public Affairs. My first promotion was my being chosen, in 1736, clerk of the General Assembly. The choice was made that year without opposition ; but the year following, when I was again pro- pos'd (the choice, like that of the members, being annual), a new member made a long speech against me, in order to favour some other candidate. I was, however, chosen, which was the more agreeable to me, as, be- sides the pay for the immediate service as clerk, the place gave me a better opportunity of keep- ing up an interest among the members, which secur'd to me the business of printing the votes, laws, paper money, and other occasional jobs for the public, that, on the whole, were very profitable. I therefore did not like the opposition of this new member, who was a gentleman of fortune and education t with talents that were likely to give him, in time, great influence in the House, which, indeed, afterwards happened. I did not, however, aim at gaining his favour by pay- ing any servile respect to him, but, after some time, took this other method. Having heard that he had in his library a certain very scarce 102 Public Affairs and curious book, I wrote a note to him, ex- pressing my desire of perusing that book, and requesting he would do me the favour of lend- ing it to me for a few days. He sent it imme- diately, and I return' d it in about a week with another note, expressing strongly my sense of the favour. When we next met in the House, he spoke to me (which he had never done be- fore), and with great civility ; and he ever after manifested a readiness to serve me on all occa- sions, so that we became great friends, and our friendship continued to his death. This is an- other instance of the truth of an old maxim I had learned, which says: " //