<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h4>FRANKLIN ARMS</h4>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="25%" src= "images/img002.jpg" alt="FRANKLIN SEAL" title= "FRANKLIN SEAL" /></div>
<h4>FRANKLIN SEAL</h4>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="FRONTISPIECE" id="FRONTISPIECE" /> <SPAN href="images/illus-003-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src= "images/illus-003thumb.jpg" alt="FRONTISPIECE" title= "FRONTISPIECE" /></SPAN></div>
<p class="two_small">"He was therefore, feasted and invited to all the
court parties. At these he sometimes met the old Duchess of
Bourbon, who, being a chess player of about his force, they very
generally played together. Happening once to put her king into
prize, the Doctor took it. 'Ah,' says she, 'we do not take kings
so.' 'We do in America,' said the Doctor."—<span class="smcap">Thomas Jefferson</span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3> A U T O B I O G R A P H Y</h3>
<h3>OF</h3>
<h1>B E N J A M I N</h1>
<h1>F R A N K L I N</h1>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="center">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</div>
<div class="center"><i>by</i></div>
<div class="center_big">E. BOYD SMITH,<br/>
</div>
<div class="center">EDITED</div>
<div class="center"><i>by</i></div>
<div class="center_medium">FRANK WOODWORTH PINE</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="15%" src= "images/illus-004-red.jpg" alt="Printers Mark" title= "Printers Mark" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="center"><i>New York</i></div>
<div class="center">HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</div>
<div class="center">1916<br/>
</div>
<div class="center_small"><span class="smcap">Copyright,
1916,</span></div>
<div class="center_small">BY</div>
<div class="center_small">HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY</div>
<div class="center_small">June, 1922<br/>
</div>
<div class="center_small">THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS</div>
<div class="center_small">RAHWAY, N. J.</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
<table summary="Page" width="90%" border="0" cellpadding="2"
cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt" colspan="2"></td>
<td class="cell_rt"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table width="90%" summary="Introduction" border="0" cellpadding=
"2" cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#INTRODUCTION">vii</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The
Autobiography</span></td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#AUTOBIOGRAPHY">1</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table width="90%" summary="TOC" border="0" cellpadding="2"
cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">I.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Ancestry and Early Life in Boston</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#I">3</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">II.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Beginning Life as a Printer</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#II">21</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">III.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Arrival in Philadelphia</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#III">41</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">IV.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">First Visit to Boston</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#III">55</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">V.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Early Friends in Philadelphia</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#V">69</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">VI.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">First Visit to London</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#VI">77</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">VII.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Beginning Business in Philadelphia</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#VII">99</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">VIII.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Business Success and First Public Service</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#VIII">126</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">IX.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Plan for Attaining Moral Perfection</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#IX">146</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">X.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new"><i>Poor Richard's Almanac</i> and Other
Activities</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#X">169</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XI.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Interest in Public Affairs</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XI">188</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XII.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Defense of the Province</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XII">201</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XIII.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Public Services and Duties</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XIII">217</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XIV.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Albany Plan of Union</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XIV">241</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XV.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Quarrels with the Proprietary Governors</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XV">246</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XVI.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Braddock's Expedition</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XVI">253</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XVII.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Franklin's Defense of the Frontier</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XVII">274</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XVIII.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Scientific Experiments</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XVIII">289</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">XIX.</td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Agent of Pennsylvania in London</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#XIX">296</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table width="90%" summary="Appendix" border="0" cellpadding="2"
cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1"><span class="smcap">Appendix</span></td>
<td class="cell_rt1"></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table width="90%" summary="Appendix2" border="0" cellpadding="2"
cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0"></td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">Electrical Kite</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#ELECTRICAL_KITE">327</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0"></td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">The Way to Wealth</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#THE_WAY_TO_WEALTH">331</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0"></td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">The Whistle</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#THE_WHISTLE">336</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0"></td>
<td class="cell_mid0">
<p class="new">A Letter to Samuel Mather</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt0"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#A_LETTER_TO_SAMUEL_MATHER">340</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table width="90%" summary="Bibliography" border="0" cellpadding=
"2" cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1"><span class="smcap">Bibliography</span></td>
<td class="cell_mid"></td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#BIBLIOGRAPHY">343</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3>
<table style="width: 90%;" summary="Frontispiece" border="0"
cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><span class="smcap">Franklin at the Court of Louis
XVI</span></p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#FRONTISPIECE">Frontispiece</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<div class="blockquot"><p class="two">"He was therefore, feasted and invited to
all the court parties. At these he sometimes met the old Duchess of
Bourbon, who, being a chess player of about his force, they very
generally played together. Happening once to put her king into
prize, the Doctor took it. 'Ah,' says she, 'we do not take kings
so.' 'We do in America,' said the Doctor."—<span class="smcap">Thomas Jefferson</span></p>
</div>
<table style="width: 90%;" summary="Page" border="0" cellpadding=
"2" cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1"> </td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><span class="smcap">Page</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">Portrait of Franklin</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#vii">vii</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">Pages 1 and 4 of <i>The Pennsylvania Gazette</i>,
Number XL, the first number after Franklin took control</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#xxi">xxi</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">First page of <i>The New England Courant</i> of
December 4-11, 1721</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p33">33</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"I was employed to carry the papers thro' the
streets to the customers"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p36">36</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"She, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I
made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous
appearance"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p48">48</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"I took to working at press"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p88">88</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"I see him still at work when I go home from
club"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p120">120</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">Two pages from <i>Poor Richard's Almanac</i> for
1736</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p171">171</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"I regularly took my turn of duty there as a common
soldier"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p204">204</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"In the evening, hearing a great noise among them,
the commissioners walk'd out to see what was the matter"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p224">224</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"Our axes ... were immediately set to work to cut
down trees"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p278">278</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"We now appeared very wide, and so far from each
other in our opinions as to discourage all hope of agreement"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p318">318</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">"You will find it stream out plentifully from the
key on the approach of your knuckle"</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p328">328</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new">Father Abraham in his study</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_rt"><p class="new2"><SPAN href="#p330">330</SPAN></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1"><p class="new">The end papers show, at the front, the
Franklin arms and the Franklin seal; at the back, the medal given
by the Boston public schools from the fund left by Franklin for
that purpose as provided in the following extract from his
will:</p>
<p class="new3"> </p>
<p class="new3">"I was born in Boston, New England, and owe my
first instructions in literature to the free grammar-schools
established there. I therefore give one hundred pounds sterling to
my executors, to be by them ... paid over to the managers or
directors of the free schools in my native town of Boston, to be by
them ... put out to interest, and so continued at interest forever,
which interest annually shall be laid out in silver medals, and
given as honorary rewards annually by the directors of the said
free schools belonging to the said town, in such manner as to the
discretion of the selectmen of the said town shall seem meet."</p>
</td>
<td class="cell_mid"></td>
<td class="cell_rt"></td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p class="new"> </p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="vii" id="vii" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-005-red.jpg"><ANTIMG width-obs="50%" src="images/illus-005thumb.jpg" alt="B. FRANKLIN" title="B. FRANKLIN" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="30%" src="images/signature.jpg" alt="B. Franklin's signature" title= "B. Franklin's signature" /></div>
<div class="center_caption"><small>From an engraving by J. Thomson
from the original picture by J. A. Duplessis.</small></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3><SPAN name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION" />INTRODUCTION</h3>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-w.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-W" />
E Americans devour eagerly any piece of writing that purports to
tell us the secret of success in life; yet how often we are
disappointed to find nothing but commonplace statements, or
receipts that we know by heart but never follow. Most of the life
stories of our famous and successful men fail to inspire because
they lack the human element that makes the record real and brings
the story within our grasp. While we are searching far and near for
some Aladdin's Lamp to give coveted fortune, there is ready at our
hand if we will only reach out and take it, like the charm in
Milton's <i>Comus</i>,</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i0">"Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull
swain</div>
<div class="i0"> Treads on it daily with his clouted
shoon;"</div>
</div></div>
<p>the interesting, human, and vividly told story of one of the
wisest and most useful lives in our own history, and perhaps in any
history. In Franklin's <i>Autobiography</i> is offered not so much
a ready-made formula for success, as the companionship of a real
flesh and blood man of extraordinary mind and quality, whose daily
walk and conversation will help us to meet our own difficulties,
much as does the example of a wise and strong friend. While we are
fascinated by the story, we absorb the human experience through
which a strong and helpful character is building.</p>
<p>The thing that makes Franklin's <i>Autobiography</i> different
from every other life story of a great and successful man is just
this human aspect of the account. Franklin told the story of his
life, as he himself says, for the benefit of his posterity. He
wanted to help them by the relation of his own rise from obscurity
and poverty to eminence and wealth. He is not unmindful of the
importance of his public services and their recognition, yet his
accounts of these achievements are given only as a part of the
story, and the vanity displayed is incidental and in keeping with
the honesty of the recital. There is nothing of the impossible in
the method and practice of Franklin as he sets them forth. The
youth who reads the fascinating story is astonished to find that
Franklin in his early years struggled with the same everyday
passions and difficulties that he himself experiences, and he loses
the sense of discouragement that comes from a realization of his
own shortcomings and inability to attain.</p>
<p>There are other reasons why the <i>Autobiography</i> should be
an intimate friend of American young people. Here they may
establish a close relationship with one of the foremost Americans
as well as one of the wisest men of his age.</p>
<p>The life of Benjamin Franklin is of importance to every American
primarily because of the part he played in securing the
independence of the United States and in establishing it as a
nation. Franklin shares with Washington the honors of the
Revolution, and of the events leading to the birth of the new
nation. While Washington was the animating spirit of the struggle
in the colonies, Franklin was its ablest champion abroad. To
Franklin's cogent reasoning and keen satire, we owe the clear and
forcible presentation of the American case in England and France;
while to his personality and diplomacy as well as to his facile
pen, we are indebted for the foreign alliance and the funds without
which Washington's work must have failed. His patience, fortitude,
and practical wisdom, coupled with self-sacrificing devotion to the
cause of his country, are hardly less noticeable than similar
qualities displayed by Washington. In fact, Franklin as a public
man was much like Washington, especially in the entire
disinterestedness of his public service.</p>
<p>Franklin is also interesting to us because by his life and
teachings he has done more than any other American to advance the
material prosperity of his countrymen. It is said that his widely
and faithfully read maxims made Philadelphia and Pennsylvania
wealthy, while Poor Richard's pithy sayings, translated into many
languages, have had a world-wide influence.</p>
<p>Franklin is a good type of our American manhood. Although not
the wealthiest or the most powerful, he is undoubtedly, in the
versatility of his genius and achievements, the greatest of our
self-made men. The simple yet graphic story in the
<i>Autobiography</i> of his steady rise from humble boyhood in a
tallow-chandler shop, by industry, economy, and perseverance in
self-improvement, to eminence, is the most remarkable of all the
remarkable histories of our self-made men. It is in itself a
wonderful illustration of the results possible to be attained in a
land of unequaled opportunity by following Franklin's maxims.</p>
<p>Franklin's fame, however, was not confined to his own country.
Although he lived in a century notable for the rapid evolution of
scientific and political thought and activity, yet no less a keen
judge and critic than Lord Jeffrey, the famous editor of the
<i>Edinburgh Review</i>, a century ago said that "in one point of
view the name of Franklin must be considered as standing higher
than any of the others which illustrated the eighteenth century.
Distinguished as a statesman, he was equally great as a
philosopher, thus uniting in himself a rare degree of excellence in
both these pursuits, to excel in either of which is deemed the
highest praise."</p>
<p>Franklin has indeed been aptly called "many-sided." He was
eminent in science and public service, in diplomacy and in
literature. He was the Edison of his day, turning his scientific
discoveries to the benefit of his fellow-men. He perceived the
identity of lightning and electricity and set up the lightning rod.
He invented the Franklin stove, still widely used, and refused to
patent it. He possessed a masterly shrewdness in business and
practical affairs. Carlyle called him the father of all the
Yankees. He founded a fire company, assisted in founding a
hospital, and improved the cleaning and lighting of streets. He
developed journalism, established the American Philosophical
Society, the public library in Philadelphia, and the University of
Pennsylvania. He organized a postal system for the colonies, which
was the basis of the present United States Post Office. Bancroft,
the eminent historian, called him "the greatest diplomatist of his
century." He perfected the Albany Plan of Union for the colonies.
He is the only statesman who signed the Declaration of
Independence, the Treaty of Alliance with France, the Treaty of
Peace with England, and the Constitution. As a writer, he has
produced, in his <i>Autobiography</i> and in <i>Poor Richard's
Almanac</i>, two works that are not surpassed by similar writing.
He received honorary degrees from Harvard and Yale, from Oxford and
St. Andrews, and was made a fellow of the Royal Society, which
awarded him the Copley gold medal for improving natural knowledge.
He was one of the eight foreign associates of the French Academy of
Science.</p>
<p>The careful study of the <i>Autobiography</i> is also valuable
because of the style in which it is written. If Robert Louis
Stevenson is right in believing that his remarkable style was
acquired by imitation then the youth who would gain the power to
express his ideas clearly, forcibly, and interestingly cannot do
better than to study Franklin's method. Franklin's fame in the
scientific world was due almost as much to his modest, simple, and
sincere manner of presenting his discoveries and to the precision
and clearness of the style in which he described his experiments,
as to the results he was able to announce. Sir Humphry Davy, the
celebrated English chemist, himself an excellent literary critic as
well as a great scientist, said: "A singular felicity guided all
Franklin's researches, and by very small means he established very
grand truths. The style and manner of his publication on
electricity are almost as worthy of admiration as the doctrine it
contains."</p>
<p>Franklin's place in literature is hard to determine because he
was not primarily a literary man. His aim in his writings as in his
life work was to be helpful to his fellow-men. For him writing was
never an end in itself, but always a means to an end. Yet his
success as a scientist, a statesman, and a diplomat, as well as
socially, was in no little part due to his ability as a writer.
"His letters charmed all, and made his correspondence eagerly
sought. His political arguments were the joy of his party and the
dread of his opponents. His scientific discoveries were explained
in language at once so simple and so clear that plow-boy and
exquisite could follow his thought or his experiment to its
conclusion." <SPAN name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN></p>
<p>As far as American literature is concerned, Franklin has no
contemporaries. Before the <i>Autobiography</i> only one literary
work of importance had been produced in this country—Cotton
Mather's <i>Magnalia</i>, a church history of New England in a
ponderous, stiff style. Franklin was the first American author to
gain a wide and permanent reputation in Europe. The
<i>Autobiography</i>, <i>Poor Richard</i>, <i>Father Abraham's
Speech</i> or <i>The Way to Wealth</i>, as well as some of the
<i>Bagatelles</i>, are as widely known abroad as any American
writings. Franklin must also be classed as the first American
humorist.</p>
<p>English literature of the eighteenth century was characterized
by the development of prose. Periodical literature reached its
perfection early in the century in <i>The Tatler</i> and <i>The
Spectator</i> of Addison and Steele. Pamphleteers flourished
throughout the period. The homelier prose of Bunyan and Defoe
gradually gave place to the more elegant and artificial language of
Samuel Johnson, who set the standard for prose writing from 1745
onward. This century saw the beginnings of the modern novel, in
Fielding's <i>Tom Jones</i>, Richardson's <i>Clarissa Harlowe</i>,
Sterne's <i>Tristram Shandy</i>, and Goldsmith's <i>Vicar of
Wakefield</i>. Gibbon wrote <i>The Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire</i>, Hume his <i>History of England</i>, and Adam Smith the
<i>Wealth of Nations</i>.</p>
<p>In the simplicity and vigor of his style Franklin more nearly
resembles the earlier group of writers. In his first essays he was
not an inferior imitator of Addison. In his numerous parables,
moral allegories, and apologues he showed Bunyan's influence. But
Franklin was essentially a journalist. In his swift, terse style,
he is most like Defoe, who was the first great English journalist
and master of the newspaper narrative. The style of both writers is
marked by homely, vigorous expression, satire, burlesque, repartee.
Here the comparison must end. Defoe and his contemporaries were
authors. Their vocation was writing and their success rests on the
imaginative or creative power they displayed. To authorship
Franklin laid no claim. He wrote no work of the imagination. He
developed only incidentally a style in many respects as remarkable
as that of his English contemporaries. He wrote the best
autobiography in existence, one of the most widely known
collections of maxims, and an unsurpassed series of political and
social satires, because he was a man of unusual scope of power and
usefulness, who knew how to tell his fellow-men the secrets of that
power and that usefulness.</p>
<h4><span class="smcap">The Story of the Autobiography</span></h4>
<p>The account of how Franklin's <i>Autobiography</i> came to be
written and of the adventures of the original manuscript forms in
itself an interesting story. The <i>Autobiography</i> is Franklin's
longest work, and yet it is only a fragment. The first part,
written as a letter to his son, William Franklin, was not intended
for publication; and the composition is more informal and the
narrative more personal than in the second part, from 1730 on,
which was written with a view to publication. The entire manuscript
shows little evidence of revision. In fact, the expression is so
homely and natural that his grandson, William Temple Franklin, in
editing the work changed some of the phrases because he thought
them inelegant and vulgar.</p>
<p>Franklin began the story of his life while on a visit to his
friend, Bishop Shipley, at Twyford, in Hampshire, southern England,
in 1771. He took the manuscript, completed to 1731, with him when
he returned to Philadelphia in 1775. It was left there with his
other papers when he went to France in the following year, and
disappeared during the confusion incident to the Revolution.
Twenty-three pages of closely written manuscript fell into the
hands of Abel James, an old friend, who sent a copy to Franklin at
Passy, near Paris, urging him to complete the story. Franklin took
up the work at Passy in 1784 and carried the narrative forward a
few months. He changed the plan to meet his new purpose of writing
to benefit the young reader. His work was soon interrupted and was
not resumed until 1788, when he was at home in Philadelphia. He was
now old, infirm, and suffering, and was still engaged in public
service. Under these discouraging conditions the work progressed
slowly. It finally stopped when the narrative reached the year
1757. Copies of the manuscript were sent to friends of Franklin in
England and France, among others to Monsieur Le Veillard at
Paris.</p>
<p>The first edition of the <i>Autobiography</i> was published in
French at Paris in 1791. It was clumsily and carelessly translated,
and was imperfect and unfinished. Where the translator got the
manuscript is not known. Le Veillard disclaimed any knowledge of
the publication. From this faulty French edition many others were
printed, some in Germany, two in England, and another in France, so
great was the demand for the work.</p>
<p>In the meantime the original manuscript of the
<i>Autobiography</i> had started on a varied and adventurous
career. It was left by Franklin with his other works to his
grandson, William Temple Franklin, whom Franklin designated as his
literary executor. When Temple Franklin came to publish his
grandfather's works in 1817, he sent the original manuscript of the
<i>Autobiography</i> to the daughter of Le Veillard in exchange for
her father's copy, probably thinking the clearer transcript would
make better printer's copy. The original manuscript thus found its
way to the Le Veillard family and connections, where it remained
until sold in 1867 to Mr. John Bigelow, United States Minister to
France. By him it was later sold to Mr. E. Dwight Church of New
York, and passed with the rest of Mr. Church's library into the
possession of Mr. Henry E. Huntington. The original manuscript of
Franklin's <i>Autobiography</i> now rests in the vault in Mr.
Huntington's residence at Fifth Avenue and Fifty-seventh Street,
New York City.</p>
<p>When Mr. Bigelow came to examine his purchase, he was astonished
to find that what people had been reading for years as the
authentic <i>Life of Benjamin Franklin by Himself</i>, was only a
garbled and incomplete version of the real <i>Autobiography</i>.
Temple Franklin had taken unwarranted liberties with the original.
Mr. Bigelow says he found more than twelve hundred changes in the
text. In 1868, therefore, Mr. Bigelow published the standard
edition of Franklin's <i>Autobiography</i>. It corrected errors in
the previous editions and was the first English edition to contain
the short fourth part, comprising the last few pages of the
manuscript, written during the last year of Franklin's life. Mr.
Bigelow republished the <i>Autobiography</i>, with additional
interesting matter, in three volumes in 1875, in 1905, and in 1910.
The text in this volume is that of Mr. Bigelow's editions.<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</SPAN></p>
<p>The <i>Autobiography</i> has been reprinted in the United States
many scores of times and translated into all the languages of
Europe. It has never lost its popularity and is still in constant
demand at circulating libraries. The reason for this popularity is
not far to seek. For in this work Franklin told in a remarkable
manner the story of a remarkable life. He displayed hard common
sense and a practical knowledge of the art of living. He selected
and arranged his material, perhaps unconsciously, with the unerring
instinct of the journalist for the best effects. His success is not
a little due to his plain, clear, vigorous English. He used short
sentences and words, homely expressions, apt illustrations, and
pointed allusions. Franklin had a most interesting, varied, and
unusual life. He was one of the greatest conversationalists of his
time.</p>
<p>His book is the record of that unusual life told in Franklin's
own unexcelled conversational style. It is said that the best parts
of Boswell's famous biography of Samuel Johnson are those parts
where Boswell permits Johnson to tell his own story. In the
<i>Autobiography</i> a no less remarkable man and talker than
Samuel Johnson is telling his own story throughout.</p>
<p class="right">F. W. P.</p>
<p><span class="smcap2"> The Gilman Country
School</span>,<br/>
<small> Baltimore, September,
1916.</small></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="center">
<table width="70%" summary="The Pennsylvania GAZETTE" border="1" cellpadding=
"2">
<tr>
<td class="cell_poor"><SPAN name="xxi" id="xxi" /> <SPAN href="images/028-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/028thumb.jpg" alt="The Pennsylvania GAZETTE Page 1" title=
"The Pennsylvania GAZETTE Page 1" /></SPAN></td>
<td class="cell_poor"><SPAN href="images/029-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src=
"images/029thumb.jpg" alt="The Pennsylvania GAZETTE Page 4" title=
"The Pennsylvania GAZETTE Page 4" /></SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table></div>
<p class="four">Pages 1 and 4 of <i>The Pennsylvania Gazette</i>,
the first number after Franklin took control. Reduced nearly
one-half. Reproduced from a copy at the New York Public
Library.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></SPAN> <i>The Many-Sided
Franklin.</i> Paul L. Ford.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></SPAN> For the division
into chapters and the chapter titles, however, the present editor
is responsible.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3><SPAN name="AUTOBIOGRAPHY" id="AUTOBIOGRAPHY" />AUTOBIOGRAPHY</h3>
<h3>OF</h3>
<h3>BENJAMIN FRANKLIN</h3>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="I" id="I" />I</h4>
<h4>ANCESTRY AND EARLY YOUTH IN BOSTON</h4>
<p class="right"><b><small><span class="smcap">Twyford</span>,<SPAN name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</SPAN> <i>at the Bishop of St. Asaph's</i>,
1771.</small></b></p>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-d.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-d" />
EAR SON: I have ever had pleasure in obtaining any little anecdotes
of my ancestors. You may remember the inquiries I made among the
remains of my relations when you were with me in England, and the
journey I undertook for that purpose. Imagining it may be equally
agreeable to you to know the circumstances of my life, many of
which you are yet unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of
a week's uninterrupted leisure in my present country retirement, I
sit down to write them for you. To which I have besides some other
inducements. Having emerged from the poverty and obscurity in which
I was born and bred, to a state of affluence and some degree of
reputation in the world, and having gone so far through life with a
considerable share of felicity, the conducing means I made use of,
which with the blessing of God so well succeeded, my posterity may
like to know, as they may find some of them suitable to their own
situations, and therefore fit to be imitated.</p>
<p>That felicity, when I reflected on it, has induced me sometimes
to say, that were it offered to my choice, I should have no
objection to a repetition of the same life from its beginning, only
asking the advantages authors have in a second edition to correct
some faults of the first. So I might, besides correcting the
faults, change some sinister accidents and events of it for others
more favourable. But though this were denied, I should still accept
the offer. Since such a repetition is not to be expected, the next
thing most like living one's life over again seems to be a
recollection of that life, and to make that recollection as durable
as possible by putting it down in writing.</p>
<p>Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination so natural in old
men, to be talking of themselves and their own past actions; and I
shall indulge it without being tiresome to others, who, through
respect to age, might conceive themselves obliged to give me a
hearing, since this may be read or not as anyone 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
<i>vanity</i>.<SPAN name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</SPAN> Indeed, I scarce ever heard
or saw the introductory words, "<i>Without vanity I may say</i>,"
etc., but some vain thing immediately followed. Most people dislike
vanity in others, whatever share they have of it themselves; but I
give it fair quarter wherever I meet with it, being persuaded that
it is often productive of good to the possessor, and to others that
are within his sphere of action; and therefore, in many cases, it
would not be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for his
vanity among the other comforts of life.</p>
<p>Gibbon and Hume, the great British historians, who were
contemporaries of Franklin, express in their autobiographies the
same feeling about the propriety of just self-praise.</p>
<p>And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with all humility to
acknowledge that I owe the mentioned happiness of my past life to
His kind providence, which lead me to the means I used and gave
them success. My belief of this induces me to <i>hope</i>, though I
must not <i>presume</i>, that the same goodness will still be
exercised toward me, in continuing that happiness, or enabling me
to bear a fatal reverse, which I may experience as others have
done; the complexion of my future fortune being known to Him only
in whose power it is to bless to us even our afflictions.</p>
<p>The notes one of my uncles (who had the same kind of curiosity
in collecting family anecdotes) once put into my hands, furnished
me with several particulars relating to our ancestors. From these
notes I learned that the family had lived in the same village,
Ecton, in Northamptonshire,<SPAN name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</SPAN> 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,<SPAN name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</SPAN> was assumed by them as a
surname when others took surnames all over the kingdom), on a
freehold of about thirty acres, aided by the smith's business,
which had continued in the family till his time, the eldest son
being always bred to that business; a custom which he and my father
followed as to their eldest sons. When I searched the registers at
Ecton, I found an account of their births, marriages and burials
from the year 1555 only, there being no registers kept in that
parish at any time preceding. By that register I perceived that I
was the youngest son of the youngest son for five generations back.
My grandfather Thomas, who was born in 1598, lived at Ecton till he
grew too old to follow business longer, when he went to live with
his son John, a dyer at Banbury, in Oxfordshire, with whom my
father served an apprenticeship. There my grandfather died and lies
buried. We saw his gravestone in 1758. His eldest son Thomas lived
in the house at Ecton, and left it with the land to his only child,
a daughter, who, with her husband, one Fisher, of Wellingborough,
sold it to Mr. Isted, now lord of the manor there. My grandfather
had four sons that grew up, viz.: Thomas, John, Benjamin and
Josiah. I will give you what account I can of them at this distance
from my papers, and if these are not lost in my absence, you will
among them find many more particulars.</p>
<p>Thomas was bred a smith under his father; but, being ingenious,
and encouraged in learning (as all my brothers were) by an Esquire
Palmer, then the principal gentleman in that parish, he qualified
himself for the business of scrivener; became a considerable man in
the county; was a chief mover of all public-spirited undertakings
for the county or town of Northampton, and his own village, of
which many instances were related of him; and much taken notice of
and patronized by the then Lord Halifax. He died in 1702, January
6, old style,<SPAN name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</SPAN> just four years to a day
before I was born. The account we received of his life and
character from some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck you as
something extraordinary, from its similarity to what you knew of
mine. "Had he died on the same day," you said, "one might have
supposed a transmigration."</p>
<p>John was bred a dyer, I believe of woollens, Benjamin was bred a
silk dyer, serving an apprenticeship at London. He was an ingenious
man. I remember him well, for when I was a boy he came over to my
father in Boston, and lived in the house with us some years. He
lived to a great age. His grandson, Samuel Franklin, now lives in
Boston. He left behind him two quarto volumes, MS., of his own
poetry, consisting of little occasional pieces addressed to his
friends and relations, of which the following, sent to me, is a
specimen.<SPAN name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</SPAN> He had formed a short-hand
of his own, which he taught me, but, never practising it, I have
now forgot it. I was named after this uncle, there being a
particular affection between him and my father. He was very pious,
a great attender of sermons of the best preachers, which he took
down in his short-hand, and had with him many volumes of them. He
was also much of a politician; too much, perhaps, for his station.
There fell lately into my hands, in London, a collection he had
made of all the principal pamphlets relating to public affairs,
from 1641 to 1717; many of the volumes are wanting as appears by
the numbering, but there still remain eight volumes in folio, and
twenty-four in quarto and in octavo. A dealer in old books met with
them, and knowing me by my sometimes buying of him, he brought them
to me. It seems my uncle must have left them here when he went to
America, which was about fifty years since. There are many of his
notes in the margins.</p>
<p>This obscure family of ours was early in the Reformation, and
continued Protestants through the reign of Queen Mary, when they
were sometimes in danger of trouble on account of their zeal
against popery. They had got an English Bible, and to conceal and
secure it, it was fastened open with tapes under and within the
cover of a joint-stool. When my great-great-grandfather read it to
his family, he turned up the joint-stool upon his knees, turning
over the leaves then under the tapes. One of the children stood at
the door to give notice if he saw the apparitor coming, who was an
officer of the spiritual court. In that case the stool was turned
down again upon its feet, when the Bible remained concealed under
it as before. This anecdote I had from my uncle Benjamin. The
family continued all of the Church of England till about the end of
Charles the Second's reign, when some of the ministers that had
been outed for non-conformity, holding conventicles<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</SPAN> in Northamptonshire, Benjamin and Josiah adhered
to them, and so continued all their lives: the rest of the family
remained with the Episcopal Church.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src= "images/illus-006-red.jpg" alt="Birthplace of Franklin. Milk Street, Boston" title= "Birthplace of Franklin. Milk Street, Boston" /></div>
<div class="center_caption">Birthplace of Franklin. Milk Street,
Boston.</div>
<p>Josiah, my father, married young, and carried his wife with
three children into New England, about 1682. The conventicles
having been forbidden by law, and frequently disturbed, induced
some considerable men of his acquaintance to remove to that
country, and he was prevailed with to accompany them thither, where
they expected to enjoy their mode of religion with freedom. By the
same wife he had four children more born there, and by a second
wife ten more, in all seventeen; of which I remember thirteen
sitting at one time at his table, who all grew up to be men and
women, and married; I was the youngest son, and the youngest child
but two, and was born in Boston, New England.<SPAN name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</SPAN>
My mother, the second wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter
Folger, one of the first settlers of New England, of whom honorable
mention is made by Cotton Mather,<SPAN name="FNanchor_11" id="FNanchor_11" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</SPAN> in
his church history of that country, entitled <i>Magnalia Christi
Americana</i>, as "<i>a godly, learned Englishman</i>," if I
remember the words rightly. I have heard that he wrote sundry small
occasional pieces, but only one of them was printed, which I saw
now many years since. It was written in 1675, in the home-spun
verse of that time and people, and addressed to those then
concerned in the government there. It was in favour of liberty of
conscience, and in behalf of the Baptists, Quakers, and other
sectaries that had been under persecution, ascribing the Indian
wars, and other distresses that had befallen the country, to that
persecution, as so many judgments of God to punish so heinous an
offense, and exhorting a repeal of those uncharitable laws. The
whole appeared to me as written with a good deal of decent
plainness and manly freedom. The six concluding lines I remember,
though I have forgotten the two first of the stanza; but the
purport of them was, that his censures proceeded from good-will,
and, therefore, he would be known to be the author.</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"Because to be a libeller (says he)</div>
<div class="i2b">I hate it with my heart;</div>
<div class="i2">From Sherburne town,<SPAN name="FNanchor_12" id="FNanchor_12" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</SPAN>
where now I dwell</div>
<div class="i2b">My name I do put here;</div>
<div class="i2">Without offense your real friend,</div>
<div class="i2b">It is Peter Folgier."</div>
</div></div>
<p>My elder brothers were all put apprentices to different trades.
I was put to the grammar-school at eight years of age, my father
intending to devote me, as the tithe<SPAN name="FNanchor_13" id="FNanchor_13" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</SPAN> of
his sons, to the service of the Church. My early readiness in
learning to read (which must have been very early, as I do not
remember when I could not read), and the opinion of all his
friends, that I should certainly make a good scholar, encouraged
him in this purpose of his. My uncle Benjamin, too, approved of it,
and proposed to give me all his short-hand volumes of sermons, I
suppose as a stock to set up with, if I would learn his
character.<SPAN name="FNanchor_14" id="FNanchor_14" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</SPAN> I continued, however, at
the grammar-school not quite one year, though in that time I had
risen gradually from the middle of the class of that year to be the
head of it, and farther was removed into the next class above it,
in order to go with that into the third at the end of the year. But
my father, in the meantime, from a view of the expense of a college
education, which having so large a family he could not well afford,
and the mean living many so educated were afterwards able to
obtain—reasons that he gave to his friends in my
hearing—altered his first intention, took me from the
grammar-school, and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic,
kept by a then famous man, Mr. George Brownell, very successful in
his profession generally, and that by mild, encouraging methods.
Under him I acquired fair writing pretty soon, but I failed in the
arithmetic, and made no progress in it. At ten years old I was
taken home to assist my father in his business, which was that of a
tallow-chandler and sope-boiler; a business he was not bred to, but
had assumed on his arrival in New England, and on finding his
dyeing trade would not maintain his family, being in little
request. Accordingly, I was employed in cutting wick for the
candles, filling the dipping mould and the moulds for cast candles,
attending the shop, going of errands, etc.</p>
<p>I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination for the sea,
but my father declared against it; however, living near the water,
I was much in and about it, learnt early to swim well, and to
manage boats; and when in a boat or canoe with other boys, I was
commonly allowed to govern, especially in any case of difficulty;
and upon other occasions I was generally a leader among the boys,
and sometimes led them into scrapes, of which I will mention one
instance, as it shows an early projecting public spirit, tho' not
then justly conducted.</p>
<p>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 intended for
a new house near the marsh, and which would very well suit our
purpose. Accordingly, in the evening, when the workmen were gone, I
assembled a number of my playfellows, and working with them
diligently like so many emmets, sometimes two or three to a stone,
we brought them all away and built our little 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 usefulness of the work, mine
convinced me that nothing was useful which was not honest.</p>
<p>I think you may like to know something of his person and
character. He had an excellent constitution of body, was of middle
stature, but well set, and very strong; he was ingenious, could
draw prettily, was skilled a little in music, and had a clear,
pleasing voice, so that when he played psalm tunes on his violin
and sung withal, as he sometimes did in an evening after the
business of the day was over, it was extremely agreeable to hear.
He had a mechanical genius too, and, on occasion, was very handy in
the use of other tradesmen's tools; but his great excellence lay in
a sound understanding and solid judgment in prudential matters,
both in private and publick affairs. In the latter, indeed, he was
never employed, the numerous family he had to educate and the
straitness of his circumstances keeping him close to his trade; but
I remember well his being frequently visited by leading people, who
consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the town or of the
church he belonged to, and showed a good deal of respect for his
judgment and advice: he was also much consulted by private persons
about their affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently
chosen an arbitrator between contending parties. At his table he
liked to have, as often as he could, some sensible friend or
neighbor to converse with, and always took care to start some
ingenious or useful topic for discourse, which might tend to
improve the minds of his children. By this means he turned our
attention to what was good, just, and prudent in the conduct of
life; and little or no notice was ever taken of what related to the
victuals on the table, whether it was well or ill dressed, in or
out of season, of good or bad flavor, preferable or inferior to
this or that other thing of the kind, so that I was bro't up in
such a perfect inattention to those matters as to be quite
indifferent what kind of food was set before me, and so unobservant
of it, that to this day if I am asked I can scarce tell a few hours
after dinner what I dined upon. This has been a convenience to me
in traveling, where my companions have been sometimes very unhappy
for want of a suitable gratification of their more delicate,
because better instructed, tastes and appetites.</p>
<p>My mother had likewise an excellent constitution: she suckled
all her ten children. I never knew either my father or mother to
have any sickness but that of which they dy'd, he at 89, and she at
85 years of age. They lie buried together at Boston, where I some
years since placed a marble over their grave,<SPAN name="FNanchor_15" id="FNanchor_15" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</SPAN>
with this inscription:</p>
<div class="center"><span class="smcap2">Josiah
Franklin</span>,</div>
<div class="center_small2">and</div>
<div class="center_small2"><span class="smcap2">Abiah</span> his
wife,</div>
<div class="center_small2">lie here interred.</div>
<div class="center_small2">They lived lovingly together in
wedlock</div>
<div class="center_small2">fifty-five years.</div>
<div class="center_small2">Without an estate, or any gainful
employment,</div>
<div class="center_small2">By constant labor and industry,</div>
<div class="center_small2">with God's blessing,</div>
<div class="center_small2">They maintained a large family</div>
<div class="center_small2">comfortably,</div>
<div class="center_small2">and brought up thirteen children</div>
<div class="center_small2">and seven grandchildren</div>
<div class="center_small2">reputably.</div>
<div class="center_small2">From this instance, reader,</div>
<div class="center_small2">Be encouraged to diligence in thy
calling,</div>
<div class="center_small2">And distrust not Providence.</div>
<div class="center_small2">He was a pious and prudent man;</div>
<div class="center_small2">She, a discreet and virtuous
woman.</div>
<div class="center_small2">Their youngest son,</div>
<div class="center_small2">In filial regard to their memory,</div>
<div class="center_small2">Places this stone.</div>
<div class="center_small2">J. F. born 1655, died 1744, Ætat
89.</div>
<div class="center_small2">A. F. born 1667, died 1752,
—— 85.</div>
<p>By my rambling digressions I perceive myself to be grown old. I
us'd to write more methodically. But one does not dress for private
company as for a publick ball. 'Tis perhaps only negligence.</p>
<p>To return: I continued thus employed in my father's business for
two years, that is, till I was twelve years old; and my brother
John, who was bred to that business, having left my father,
married, and set up for himself at Rhode Island, there was all
appearance that I was destined to supply his place, and become a
tallow-chandler. But my dislike to the trade continuing, my father
was under apprehensions that if he did not find one for me more
agreeable, I should break away and get to sea, as his son Josiah
had done, to his great vexation. He therefore sometimes took me to
walk with him, and see joiners, bricklayers, turners, braziers,
etc., at their work, that he might observe my inclination, and
endeavor to fix it on some trade or other on land. It has ever
since been a pleasure to me to see good workmen handle their tools;
and it has been useful to me, having learnt so much by it as to be
able to do little jobs myself in my house when a workman could not
readily be got, and to construct little machines for my
experiments, while the intention of making the experiment was fresh
and warm in my mind. My father at last fixed upon the cutler's
trade, and my uncle Benjamin's son Samuel, who was bred to that
business in London, being about that time established in Boston, I
was sent to be with him some time on liking. But his expectations
of a fee with me displeasing my father, I was taken home again.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></SPAN> A small village
not far from Winchester in Hampshire, southern England. Here was
the country seat of the Bishop of St. Asaph, Dr. Jonathan Shipley,
the "good Bishop," as Dr. Franklin used to style him. Their
relations were intimate and confidential. In his pulpit, and in the
House of Lords, as well as in society, the bishop always opposed
the harsh measures of the Crown toward the
Colonies.—Bigelow.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></SPAN> In this connection
Woodrow Wilson says, "And yet the surprising and delightful thing
about this book (the <i>Autobiography</i>) is that, take it all in
all, it has not the low tone of conceit, but is a staunch man's
sober and unaffected assessment of himself and the circumstances of
his career."</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></SPAN> See <SPAN href="#INTRODUCTION"><i>Introduction</i></SPAN>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></SPAN> A small
landowner.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></SPAN> January 17, new
style. This change in the calendar was made in 1582 by Pope Gregory
XIII, and adopted in England in 1752. Every year whose number in
the common reckoning since Christ is not divisible by 4, as well as
every year whose number is divisible by 100 but not by 400, shall
have 365 days, and all other years shall have 366 days. In the
eighteenth century there was a difference of eleven days between
the old and the new style of reckoning, which the English
Parliament canceled by making the 3rd of September, 1752, the 14th.
The Julian calendar, or "old style," is still retained in Russia
and Greece, whose dates consequently are now 13 days behind those
of other Christian countries.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></SPAN> The specimen is
not in the manuscript of the <i>Autobiography</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></SPAN> Secret gatherings
of dissenters from the established Church.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></SPAN> Franklin was
born on Sunday, January 6, old style, 1706, in a house on Milk
Street, opposite the Old South Meeting House, where he was baptized
on the day of his birth, during a snowstorm. The house where he was
born was burned in 1810.—Griffin.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></SPAN> Cotton Mather
(1663-1728), clergyman, author, and scholar. Pastor of the North
Church, Boston. He took an active part in the persecution of
witchcraft.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></SPAN> Nantucket.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></SPAN> Tenth.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></SPAN> System of
short-hand.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></SPAN> This marble
having decayed, the citizens of Boston in 1827 erected in its place
a granite obelisk, twenty-one feet high, bearing the original
inscription quoted in the text and another explaining the erection
of the monument.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="II" id="II" />II</h4>
<h4>BEGINNING LIFE AS A PRINTER</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-f.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-F" />
ROM 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
<i>Pilgrim's Progress</i>, 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 <i>Historical Collections</i>; they were
small chapmen's books, <SPAN name="FNanchor_16" id="FNanchor_16" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</SPAN> and cheap, 40 or 50
in all. My father's little library consisted chiefly of books in
polemic divinity, most of which I read, and have since often
regretted that, at a time when I had such a thirst for knowledge,
more proper books had not fallen in my way, since it was now
resolved I should not be a clergyman. Plutarch's <i>Lives</i> there
was in which I read abundantly, and I still think that time spent
to great advantage. There was also a book of DeFoe's, called an
<i>Essay on Projects</i>, and another of Dr. Mather's, called
<i>Essays to do Good</i>, which perhaps gave me a turn of thinking
that had an influence on some of the principal future events of my
life.</p>
<p>This bookish inclination at length determined my father to make
me a printer, though he had already one son (James) of that
profession. In 1717 my brother James returned from England with a
press and letters to set up his business in Boston. I liked it much
better than that of my father, but still had a hankering for the
sea. To prevent the apprehended effect of such an inclination, my
father was impatient to have me bound to my brother. I stood out
some time, but at last was persuaded, and signed the indentures
when I was yet but twelve years old. I was to serve as an
apprentice till I was twenty-one years of age, only I was to be
allowed journeyman's wages during the last year. In a little time I
made great proficiency in the business, and became a useful hand to
my brother. I now had access to better books. An acquaintance with
the apprentices of booksellers enabled me sometimes to borrow a
small one, which I was careful to return soon and clean. Often I
sat up in my room reading the greatest part of the night, when the
book was borrowed in the evening and to be returned early in the
morning, lest it should be missed or wanted.</p>
<p>And after some time an ingenious tradesman, Mr. Matthew Adams,
who had a pretty collection of books, and who frequented our
printing-house, took notice of me, invited me to his library, and
very kindly lent me such books as I chose to read. I now took a
fancy to poetry, and made some little pieces; my brother, thinking
it might turn to account, encouraged me, and put me on composing
occasional ballads. One was called <i>The Lighthouse Tragedy</i>,
and contained an account of the drowning of Captain Worthilake,
with his two daughters: the other was a sailor's song, on the
taking of <i>Teach</i> (or Blackbeard) the pirate. They were
wretched stuff, in the Grub-street-ballad style;<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_17" id="FNanchor_17" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</SPAN> and when they were printed he sent me about the
town to sell them. The first sold wonderfully, the event being
recent, having made a great noise. This flattered my vanity; but my
father discouraged me by ridiculing my performances, and telling me
verse-makers were generally beggars. So I escaped being a poet,
most probably a very bad one; but as prose writing has been of
great use to me in the course of my life, and was a principal means
of my advancement, I shall tell you how, in such a situation, I
acquired what little ability I have in that way.</p>
<p>There was another bookish lad in the town, John Collins by name,
with whom I was intimately acquainted. We sometimes disputed, and
very fond we were of argument, and very desirous of confuting one
another, which disputatious turn, by the way, is apt to become a
very bad habit, making people often extremely disagreeable in
company by the contradiction that is necessary to bring it into
practice; and thence, besides souring and spoiling the
conversation, is productive of disgusts and, perhaps enmities where
you may have occasion for friendship. I had caught it by reading my
father's books of dispute about religion. Persons of good sense, I
have since observed, seldom fall into it, except lawyers,
university men, and men of all sorts that have been bred at
Edinborough.</p>
<p>A question was once, somehow or other, started between Collins
and me, of the propriety of educating the female sex in learning,
and their abilities for study. He was of opinion that it was
improper, and that they were naturally unequal to it. I took the
contrary side, perhaps a little for dispute's sake. He was
naturally more eloquent, had a ready plenty of words, and
sometimes, as I thought, bore me down more by his fluency than by
the strength of his reasons. As we parted without settling the
point, and were not to see one another again for some time, I sat
down to put my arguments in writing, which I copied fair and sent
to him. He answered, and I replied. Three or four letters of a side
had passed, when my father happened to find my papers and read
them. Without entering into the discussion, he took occasion to
talk to me about the manner of my writing; observed that, though I
had the advantage of my antagonist in correct spelling and pointing
(which I ow'd to the printing-house), I fell far short in elegance
of expression, in method and in perspicuity, of which he convinced
me by several instances. I saw the justice of his remarks, and
thence grew more attentive to the manner in writing, and determined
to endeavor at improvement.</p>
<p>About this time I met with an odd volume of the
<i>Spectator</i>.<SPAN name="FNanchor_18" id="FNanchor_18" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</SPAN> 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
<i>Spectator</i> with the original, discovered some of my faults,
and corrected them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a
readiness in recollecting and using them, which I thought I should
have acquired before that time if I had gone on making verses;
since the continual occasion for words of the same import, but of
different length, to suit the measure, or of different sound for
the rhyme, would have laid me under a constant necessity of
searching for variety, and also have tended to fix that variety in
my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore I took some of the
tales and turned them into verse; and, after a time, when I had
pretty well forgotten the prose, turned them back again. I also
sometimes jumbled my collections of hints into confusion, and after
some weeks endeavored to reduce them into the best order, before I
began to form the full sentences and compleat the paper. This was
to teach me method in the arrangement of thoughts. By comparing my
work afterwards with the original, I discovered many faults and
amended them; but I sometimes had the pleasure of fancying that, in
certain particulars of small import, I had been lucky enough to
improve the method of the language, and this encouraged me to think
I might possibly in time come to be a tolerable English writer, of
which I was extremely ambitious. My time for these exercises and
for reading was at night, after work or before it began in the
morning, or on Sundays, when I contrived to be in the
printing-house alone, evading as much as I could the common
attendance on public worship which my father used to exact of me
when I was under his care, and which indeed I still thought a duty,
thought I could not, as it seemed to me, afford time to practise
it.</p>
<p>When about 16 years of age I happened to meet with a book,
written by one Tryon, recommending a vegetable diet. I determined
to go into it. My brother, being yet unmarried, did not keep house,
but boarded himself and his apprentices in another family. My
refusing to eat flesh occasioned an inconveniency, and I was
frequently chid for my singularity. I made myself acquainted with
Tryon's manner of preparing some of his dishes, such as boiling
potatoes or rice, making hasty pudding, and a few others, and then
proposed to my brother, that if he would give me, weekly, half the
money he paid for my board, I would board myself. He instantly
agreed to it, and I presently found that I could save half what he
paid me. This was an additional fund for buying books. But I had
another advantage in it. My brother and the rest going from the
printing-house to their meals, I remained there alone, and,
dispatching presently my light repast, which often was no more than
a bisket or a slice of bread, a handful of raisins or a tart from
the pastry-cook's, and a glass of water, had the rest of the time
till their return for study, in which I made the greater progress,
from that greater clearness of head and quicker apprehension which
usually attend temperance in eating and drinking.</p>
<p>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 <i>On Human Understanding</i>,<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_19" id="FNanchor_19" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</SPAN> and the <i>Art of Thinking</i>, by Messrs. du
Port Royal.<SPAN name="FNanchor_20" id="FNanchor_20" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</SPAN></p>
<p>While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an
English grammar (I think it was Greenwood's), at the end of which
there were two little sketches of the arts of rhetoric and logic,
the latter finishing with a specimen of a dispute in the Socratic<SPAN name="FNanchor_21" id="FNanchor_21" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</SPAN> method; and soon after I procur'd Xenophon's
Memorable Things of Socrates, wherein there are many instances of
the same method. I was charm'd with it, adopted it, dropt my abrupt
contradiction and positive argumentation, and put on the humble
inquirer and doubter. And being then, from reading Shaftesbury and
Collins, become a real doubter in many points of our religious
doctrine, I found this method safest for myself and very
embarrassing to those against whom I used it; therefore I took a
delight in it, practis'd it continually, and grew very artful and
expert in drawing people, even of superior knowledge, into
concessions, the consequences of which they did not foresee,
entangling them in difficulties out of which they could not
extricate themselves, and so obtaining victories that neither
myself nor my cause always deserved. I continu'd this method some
few years, but gradually left it, retaining only the habit of
expressing myself in terms of modest diffidence; never using, when
I advanced anything that may possibly be disputed, the words
<i>certainly</i>, <i>undoubtedly</i>, or any others that give the
air of positiveness to an opinion; but rather say, I conceive or
apprehend a thing to be so and so; it appears to me, or <i>I should
think it so or so</i>, for such and such reasons; or <i>I imagine
it to be so</i>; or <i>it is so, if I am not mistaken</i>. This
habit, I believe, has been of great advantage to me when I have had
occasion to inculcate my opinions, and persuade men into measures
that I have been from time to time engaged in promoting; and, as
the chief ends of conversation are to <i>inform</i> or to be
<i>informed</i>, to <i>please</i> or to <i>persuade</i>, 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 everyone of those
purposes for which speech was given to us, to wit, giving or
receiving information or pleasure. For, if you would inform, a
positive and dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments may
provoke contradiction and prevent a candid attention. If you wish
information and improvement from the knowledge of others, and yet
at the same time express yourself as firmly fix'd in your present
opinions, modest, sensible men, who do not love disputation, will
probably leave you undisturbed in the possession of your error. And
by such a manner, you can seldom hope to recommend yourself in
<i>pleasing</i> your hearers, or to persuade those whose
concurrence you desire. Pope<SPAN name="FNanchor_22" id="FNanchor_22" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</SPAN>
says, judiciously:</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i0"><i>"Men should be taught as if you taught them
not,</i></div>
<div class="i0b"><i>And things unknown propos'd as things
forgot;"</i></div>
</div></div>
<p>farther recommending to us</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i0">"To speak, tho' sure, with seeming
diffidence."</div>
</div></div>
<p>And he might have coupled with this line that which he has
coupled with another, I think, less properly,</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"For want of modesty is want of sense."</div>
</div></div>
<p>If you ask, Why less properly? I must repeat the lines,</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"Immodest words admit of no defense,</div>
<div class="i2a">For want of modesty is want of sense."</div>
</div></div>
<p>Now, is not <i>want of sense</i> (where a man is so unfortunate
as to want it) some apology for his <i>want of modesty</i>? and
would not the lines stand more justly thus?</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"Immodest words admit <i>but</i> this
defense,</div>
<div class="i2a">That want of modesty is want of sense."</div>
</div></div>
<p>This, however, I should submit to better judgments.</p>
<p>My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun to print a newspaper. It
was the second that appeared in America,<SPAN name="FNanchor_23" id="FNanchor_23" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</SPAN>
and was called the New England Courant. The only one before it was
the Boston News-Letter. I remember his being dissuaded by some of
his friends from the undertaking, as not likely to succeed, one
newspaper being, in their judgment, enough for America. At this
time (1771) there are not less than five-and-twenty. He went on,
however, with the undertaking, and after having worked in composing
the types and printing off the sheets, I was employed to carry the
papers thro' the streets to the customers.</p>
<div class="center">
<table width="40%" summary="The New England Courant" border="1" cellpadding=
"2">
<tr>
<td><SPAN name="p33" id="p33" /> <SPAN href="images/062-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/062thumb.jpg" alt="First page of The New England Courant of Dec. 4-11, 1721." title=
"First page of The New England Courant of Dec. 4-11, 1721." /></SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table></div>
<div class="center_caption">First page of <i>The New England
Courant</i> of Dec. 4-11, 1721. Reduced about one-third. From a
copy in the Library of the Massachusetts Historical Society</div>
<p>He had some ingenious men among his friends, who amus'd
themselves by writing little pieces for this paper, which gain'd it
credit and made it more in demand, and these gentlemen often
visited us. Hearing their conversations, and their accounts of the
approbation their papers were received with, I was excited to try
my hand among them; but, being still a boy, and suspecting that my
brother would object to printing anything of mine in his paper if
he knew it to be mine, I contrived to disguise my hand, and,
writing an anonymous paper, I put it in at night under the door of
the printing-house. It was found in the morning, and communicated
to his writing friends when they call'd in as usual. They read it,
commented on it in my hearing, and I had the exquisite pleasure of
finding it met with their approbation, and that, in their different
guesses at the author, none were named but men of some character
among us for learning and ingenuity. I suppose now that I was
rather lucky in my judges, and that perhaps they were not really so
very good ones as I then esteem'd them.</p>
<p>Encourag'd, however, by this, I wrote and conveyed in the same
way to the press several more papers which were equally approv'd;
and I kept my secret till my small fund of sense for such
performances was pretty well exhausted, and then I discovered<SPAN name="FNanchor_24" id="FNanchor_24" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</SPAN> it, when I began to be considered a little more
by my brother's acquaintance, and in a manner that did not quite
please him, as he thought, probably with reason, that it tended to
make me too vain. And, perhaps, this might be one occasion of the
differences that we began to have about this time. Though a
brother, he considered himself as my master, and me as his
apprentice, and, accordingly, expected the same services from me as
he would from another, while I thought he demean'd me too much in
some he requir'd of me, who from a brother expected more
indulgence. Our disputes were often brought before our father, and
I fancy I was either generally in the right, or else a better
pleader, because the judgment was generally in my favor. But my
brother was passionate, and had often beaten me, which I took
extreamly amiss; and, thinking my apprenticeship very tedious, I
was continually wishing for some opportunity of shortening it,
which at length offered in a manner unexpected.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p36" id="p36" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-007-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-007thumb.jpg" alt="I was employed to carry the papers thro' the streets to the customers" title= "I was employed to carry the papers thro' the streets to the customers" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"I was employed to carry the papers
thro' the streets to the customers"</div>
<p>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 contented themselves with
admonishing me, and dismissed me, considering me, perhaps, as an
apprentice, who was bound to keep his master's secrets.</p>
<p>During my brother's confinement, which I resented a good deal,
notwithstanding our private differences, I had the management of
the paper; and I made bold to give our rulers some rubs in it,
which my brother took very kindly, while others began to consider
me in an unfavorable light, as a young genius that had a turn for
libeling and satyr. My brother's discharge was accompany'd with an
order of the House (a very odd one), that "<i>James Franklin should
no longer print the paper called the New England Courant</i>."</p>
<p>There was a consultation held in our printing-house among his
friends, what he should do in this case. Some proposed to evade the
order by changing the name of the paper; but my brother, seeing
inconveniences in that, it was finally concluded on as a better
way, to let it be printed for the future under the name of <span class="smcap">Benjamin Franklin</span>; and to avoid the censure of
the Assembly, that might fall on him as still printing it by his
apprentice, the contrivance was that my old indenture should be
return'd to me, with a full discharge on the back of it, to be
shown on occasion, but to secure to him the benefit of my service,
I was to sign new indentures for the remainder of the term, which
were to be kept private. A very flimsy scheme it was; however, it
was immediately executed, and the paper went on accordingly, under
my name for several months.</p>
<p>At length, a fresh difference arising between my brother and me,
I took upon me to assert my freedom, presuming that he would not
venture to produce the new indentures. It was not fair in me to
take this advantage, and this I therefore reckon one of the first
errata of my life; but the unfairness of it weighed little with me,
when under the impressions of resentment for the blows his passion
too often urged him to bestow upon me, though he was otherwise not
an ill-natur'd man: perhaps I was too saucy and provoking.</p>
<p>When he found I would leave him, he took care to prevent my
getting employment in any other printing-house of the town, by
going round and speaking to every master, who accordingly refus'd
to give me work. I then thought of going to New York, as the
nearest place where there was a printer; and I was rather inclin'd
to leave Boston when I reflected that I had already made myself a
little obnoxious to the governing party, and, from the arbitrary
proceedings of the Assembly in my brother's case, it was likely I
might, if I stay'd, soon bring myself into scrapes; and farther,
that my indiscreet disputations about religion began to make me
pointed at with horror by good people as an infidel or atheist. I
determin'd on the point, but my father now siding with my brother,
I was sensible that, if I attempted to go openly, means would be
used to prevent me. My friend Collins, therefore, undertook to
manage a little for me. He agreed with the captain of a New York
sloop for my passage, under the notion of my being a young
acquaintance of his. So I sold some of my books to raise a little
money, was taken on board privately, and as we had a fair wind, in
three days I found myself in New York, near 300 miles from home, a
boy of but 17, without the least recommendation to, or knowledge
of, any person in the place, and with very little money in my
pocket.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></SPAN> Small books,
sold by chapmen or peddlers.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_17" id="Footnote_17" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></SPAN> Grub-street:
famous in English literature as the home of poor writers.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_18" id="Footnote_18" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></SPAN> A daily London
journal, comprising satirical essays on social subjects, published
by Addison and Steele in 1711-1712. The <i>Spectator</i> and its
predecessor, the <i>Tatler</i> (1709), marked the beginning of
periodical literature.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_19" id="Footnote_19" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></SPAN> John Locke
(1632-1704), a celebrated English philosopher, founder of the
so-called "common-sense" school of philosophers. He drew up a
constitution for the colonists of Carolina.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_20" id="Footnote_20" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></SPAN> A noted society
of scholarly and devout men occupying the abbey of Port Royal near
Paris, who published learned works, among them the one here
referred to, better known as the <i>Port Royal Logic</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_21" id="Footnote_21" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></SPAN> Socrates
confuted his opponents in argument by asking questions so
skillfully devised that the answers would confirm the questioner's
position or show the error of the opponent.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_22" id="Footnote_22" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></SPAN> Alexander Pope
(1688-1744), the greatest English poet of the first half of the
eighteenth century.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_23" id="Footnote_23" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></SPAN> Franklin's
memory does not serve him correctly here. The <i>Courant</i> was
really the fifth newspaper established in America, although
generally called the fourth, because the first, <i>Public
Occurrences</i>, published in Boston in 1690, was suppressed after
the first issue. Following is the order in which the other four
papers were published: <i>Boston News Letter</i>, 1704; <i>Boston
Gazette</i>, December 21, 1719; <i>The American Weekly Mercury</i>,
Philadelphia, December 22, 1719; <i>The New England Courant</i>,
1721.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_24" id="Footnote_24" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></SPAN> Disclosed.</p>
</div>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="60%" src= "images/illus-008-red.jpg" alt="Sailboat" title="Sailboat" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="III" id="III" />III</h4>
<h4>ARRIVAL IN PHILADELPHIA</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-m.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-M" />
Y inclinations for the sea were by this time worne out, or I might
now have gratify'd them. But, having a trade, and supposing myself
a pretty good workman, I offer'd my service to the printer in the
place, old Mr. William Bradford, who had been the first printer in
Pennsylvania, but removed from thence upon the quarrel of George
Keith. He could give me no employment, having little to do, and
help enough already; but says he, "My son at Philadelphia has
lately lost his principal hand, Aquilla Rose, by death; if you go
thither, I believe he may employ you." Philadelphia was a hundred
miles further; I set out, however, in a boat for Amboy, leaving my
chest and things to follow me round by sea.</p>
<p>In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that tore our rotten
sails to pieces, prevented our getting into the Kill,<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_25" id="FNanchor_25" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</SPAN> and drove us upon Long Island. In our way, a
drunken Dutchman, who was a passenger too, fell overboard; when he
was sinking, I reached through the water to his shock pate, and
drew him up, so that we got him in again. His ducking sobered him a
little, and he went to sleep, taking first out of his pocket a
book, which he desir'd I would dry for him. It proved to be my old
favorite author, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, in Dutch, finely
printed on good paper, with copper cuts, a dress better than I had
ever seen it wear in its own language. I have since found that it
has been translated into most of the languages of Europe, and
suppose it has been more generally read than any other book, except
perhaps the Bible. Honest John was the first that I know of who
mix'd narration and dialogue; a method of writing very engaging to
the reader, who in the most interesting parts finds himself, as it
were, brought into the company and present at the discourse. De Foe
in his Cruso, his Moll Flanders, Religious Courtship, Family
Instructor, and other pieces, has imitated it with success; and
Richardson<SPAN name="FNanchor_26" id="FNanchor_26" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</SPAN> has done the same in his
Pamela, etc.</p>
<p>When we drew near the island, we found it was at a place where
there could be no landing, 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 surff 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
remedy but to wait till the wind should abate; and, in the
meantime, 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 thro' to us, so
that we were soon almost as wet as he. In this 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, and the water we sail'd on being salt.</p>
<p>In the evening I found myself very feverish, and went in to bed;
but, having read somewhere 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.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="70%" src= "images/illus-009-red.jpg" alt="It rained very hard all the day" title="It rained very hard all the day" /></div>
<p>It rained very hard all the day; I was thoroughly soak'd, and by
noon a good deal tired; so I stopt at a poor inn, where I staid 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 suspected to be some runaway servant, and in danger of being
taken up on that suspicion. However, 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 entered 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 there was no town in England, or country in Europe, of
which he could not give a very particular account. He had some
letters, and was ingenious, but much of an unbeliever, and wickedly
undertook, some years after, to travesty 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 published; but it never was.</p>
<p>At his house I lay that night, and the next morning reach'd
Burlington, but had the mortification to find that the regular
boats were gone a little before my coming, and no other expected to
go before Tuesday, this being Saturday; wherefore I returned to an
old woman in the town, of whom I had bought gingerbread to eat on
the water, and ask'd her advice. She invited me to lodge at her
house till a passage by water should offer; and being tired with my
foot traveling, I accepted the invitation. 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 the
evening by the side of the river, a boat came by, which I found was
going towards Philadelphia, with several people in her. They took
me in, and, as there was no wind, we row'd all the way; and about
midnight, 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 company 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.</p>
<p>I have been the more particular in this description 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 clothes
being to come round by sea. I was dirty from my journey; 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 traveling, 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 copper. The
latter I gave the people of the boat for my passage, who at first
refus'd it, on account of my rowing; but I insisted on their taking
it. A man being sometimes more generous when he has but a little
money than when he has plenty, perhaps thro' fear of being thought
to have but little.</p>
<p>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 immediately to the
baker's he directed me to, in Second-street, and ask'd for bisket,
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
difference 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 puffy rolls. I was surpris'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 I 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 that came down the river in the boat with us, and
were waiting to go farther.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p48" id="p48" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-010-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-010thumb.jpg" alt="She, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance" title= "She, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"She, standing at the door, saw me, and
thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous
appearance"</div>
<p>Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time
had many clean-dressed people 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' labour and want of rest the preceding
night, I fell fast asleep, and continu'd so till the meeting broke
up, when one was kind enough to rouse me. This was, therefore, the
first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia.</p>
<p>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'll
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 runaway.</p>
<p>After dinner, my sleepiness return'd, and being shown to a bed,
I lay down without undressing, 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, traveling
on horseback, had got to Philadelphia before me. He introduc'd me
to his son, who receiv'd me civilly, gave me a breakfast, but told
me he did not at present want a hand, being lately suppli'd with
one; but there was another printer in town, lately set up, one
Keimer, who, perhaps, 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.</p>
<p>The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer;
and when we found him, "Neighbour," says Bradford, "I have brought
to see you a young man of your business; perhaps 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
Bradford, whom he had never seen before, to be one of the town's
people 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 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.</p>
<p>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 Aquilla 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 manner was to compose them in the types
directly out of his head. So there being no copy,<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_27" id="FNanchor_27" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</SPAN> but one pair of cases, and the Elegy likely to
require all the letter, no one could help him. I endeavour'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 Bradford'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 cases,<SPAN name="FNanchor_28" id="FNanchor_28" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</SPAN> and a pamphlet to reprint,
on which he set me to work.</p>
<p>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 presswork. He had been one of the French prophets,<SPAN name="FNanchor_29" id="FNanchor_29" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</SPAN> and could act their enthusiastic agitations. At
this time he did not profess any particular religion, but something
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 work'd 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 appearance in the eyes
of Miss Read than I had done when she first happen'd to see me
eating my roll in the street.</p>
<p>I began now to have some acquaintance among the young people of
the town, that were lovers of reading, with whom I spent my
evenings very pleasantly; and gaining money by my industry and
frugality, I lived very agreeably, 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. 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
Delaware. He being at Newcastle, forty miles below Philadelphia,
heard there of me, and wrote me a letter mentioning the concern of
my friends in Boston at my abrupt departure, assuring me of their
good will to me, and that everything 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.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_25" id="Footnote_25" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></SPAN> Kill van Kull,
the channel separating Staten Island from New Jersey on the
north.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_26" id="Footnote_26" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></SPAN> Samuel
Richardson, the father of the English novel, wrote <i>Pamela</i>,
<i>Clarissa Harlowe</i>, and the <i>History of Sir Charles
Grandison</i>, novels published in the form of letters.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_27" id="Footnote_27" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></SPAN> Manuscript.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_28" id="Footnote_28" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></SPAN> The frames for
holding type are in two sections, the upper for capitals and the
lower for small letters.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_29" id="Footnote_29" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></SPAN> Protestants of
the South of France, who became fanatical under the persecutions of
Louis XIV, and thought they had the gift of prophecy. They had as
mottoes "No Taxes" and "Liberty of Conscience."</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="IV" id="IV" />IV</h4>
<h4>FIRST VISIT TO BOSTON</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-s.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-S" />IR 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 promising parts, and
therefore should be encouraged; the printers at Philadelphia were
wretched 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 afterwards told me in Boston, but I knew as yet
nothing of it; when, one day, Keimer and I being at work together
near 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.</p>
<p>Keimer ran down immediately, thinking it a visit to him; but the
governor inquir'd for me, came up, and with a condescension and
politeness 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 surprised, and Keimer star'd like a pig poison'd.<SPAN name="FNanchor_30" id="FNanchor_30" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</SPAN> I went, however, with the governor and Colonel
French to a tavern, at the corner of Third-street, and over the
Madeira he propos'd my setting up my business, laid before me the
probabilities of success, and both he and Colonel French assur'd me
I should have their interest and influence in procuring the public
business of both governments.<SPAN name="FNanchor_31" id="FNanchor_31" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</SPAN> 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
concluded I should return to Boston in the first vessel, with the
governor's letter recommending me to my father. In the meantime the
intention 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 honour I thought it, and conversing with me
in the most affable, familiar, and friendly manner imaginable.</p>
<p>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 recommending the project of my
setting up at Philadelphia 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 oblig'd to pump almost
continually, at which I took my turn. We arriv'd safe, however, at
Boston in about a fortnight. I had been absent seven months, and my
friends had heard nothing of me; for my br. Holmes was not yet
return'd, and had not written about me. My unexpected 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.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="70%" src= "images/illus-011-red.jpg" alt="The journeymen were inquisitive" title="The journeymen were inquisitive" /></div>
<p>The journeymen were inquisitive where I 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 intention 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<SPAN name="FNanchor_32" id="FNanchor_32" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</SPAN>
they had not been us'd to, paper being the money of Boston.<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_33" id="FNanchor_33" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</SPAN> Then I took an opportunity of letting them see
my watch; and, lastly (my brother still grum and sullen), I gave
them a piece of eight<SPAN name="FNanchor_34" id="FNanchor_34" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</SPAN> to drink, and took my
leave. This visit of mine offended him extreamly; for, when my
mother some time after spoke to him of a reconciliation, 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.</p>
<p>My father received the governor's letter with some apparent
surprise, but said little of it to me for some days, when Capt.
Holmes returning he show'd it to him, asked him if he knew Keith,
and what kind of man he was; adding his opinion that he must be of
small discretion 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 favour of the project, but my father was clear in the
impropriety of it, and at last, gave a flat denial to it. Then he
wrote a civil letter to Sir William, 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
preparation must be so expensive.</p>
<p>My friend and companion Collins, who was a clerk in the
post-office, pleas'd with the account I gave him of my new country,
determined to 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 propos'd to wait for me.</p>
<p>My father, tho' he did not approve Sir William's proposition,
was yet pleas'd that I had been able to obtain so advantageous a
character from a person of such note where I had resided, 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 respectfully
to the people there, endeavour 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 I might save enough by the time I was one-and-twenty to
set me up; and that, if I came near the matter, he 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 embark'd again
for New York, now with their approbation and their blessing.</p>
<p>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 always lov'd me. A friend
of his, one Vernon, having some money due to him in Pennsylvania,
about thirty-five pounds currency, desired 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 afterwards occasion'd me a
good deal of uneasiness.</p>
<p>At Newport we took in a number of passengers for New York, among
which were two young women, companions, and a grave, sensible,
matronlike Quaker woman, with her attendants. 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 hast 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
thy guard, they will draw thee into some danger; 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
observ'd 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
warrant 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.</p>
<p>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 advantage of more time
for reading and studying, and a wonderful genius for mathematical
learning, in which he far outstript me. While I liv'd in Boston,
most of my hours of leisure for conversation were spent with him,
and he continu'd a sober as well as an industrious lad; was much
respected for his learning by several 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 oblig'd to discharge his lodgings, and defray his expenses to
and at Philadelphia, which prov'd extremely inconvenient to me.</p>
<p>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, show'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 honour to take notice of
me; which, to a poor boy like me, was very pleasing.</p>
<p>We proceeded to Philadelphia. I received on the way Vernon's
money, without which we could hardly have finish'd our journey.
Collins wished to be employ'd in some counting-house; but, whether
they discover'd his dramming by his breath, or by his behaviour,
tho' he had some recommendations, he met with no success in any
application, and continu'd lodging 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
call'd on to remit it.</p>
<p>His drinking continu'd, about which we sometimes quarrel'd; for,
when a little intoxicated, 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 under little concern about him; but before he
could get round to lay hold of the boat, we had with a few strokes
pull'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 row. However, seeing him at last beginning to tire,
we lifted him in and brought him home dripping wet in the evening.
We hardly exchang'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 Barbados, 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.</p>
<p>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 accompany years, nor was
youth always without it. "And since he will not set you up," says
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 succeed." This was spoken with
such an appearance 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, probably some friend,
that knew him better, would have advis'd me not to rely on him, as
I afterwards 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.</p>
<p>I presented him an inventory of a little print'-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 chuse the
types, and see that everything was good of the kind, might not be
of some advantage. "Then," says he, "when there, you may make
acquaintances, and establish correspondences in the bookselling and
stationery way." I agreed that this might be advantageous. "Then,"
says he, "get yourself ready to go with Annis;" which was the
annual ship, and the only one at that time usually passing between
London and Philadelphia. But it would be some months before Annis
sail'd, so I continued 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.</p>
<p>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 great many. Hitherto I had stuck to
my resolution of not eating animal food, and on this occasion I
consider'd, with my master Tryon, the taking every fish as a 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 balanc'd some time between principle and inclination, 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
another, I don't see why we mayn't eat you." So I din'd upon cod
very heartily, and continued to eat with other people, returning
only now and then occasionally to a vegetable diet. So convenient a
thing is it to be a <i>reasonable creature</i>, since it enables
one to find or make a reason for everything one has a mind to
do.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_30" id="Footnote_30" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></SPAN> Temple Franklin
considered this specific figure vulgar and changed it to "stared
with astonishment."</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_31" id="Footnote_31" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></SPAN> Pennsylvania and
Delaware.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_32" id="Footnote_32" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></SPAN> A peep-show in a
box.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_33" id="Footnote_33" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></SPAN> There were no
mints in the colonies, so the metal money was of foreign coinage
and not nearly so common as paper money, which was printed in large
quantities in America, even in small denominations.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_34" id="Footnote_34" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></SPAN> Spanish dollar
about equivalent to our dollar.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="V" id="V" />V</h4>
<h4>EARLY FRIENDS IN PHILADELPHIA</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-k.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-K" />
EIMER and I liv'd on a pretty good familiar footing, and agreed
tolerably well, for he suspected nothing of my setting up. He
retained a great deal of his old enthusiasms and lov'd
argumentation. We therefore had many disputations. I used to work
him so with my Socratic method, and had trepann'd him so often by
questions apparently so distant from any point we had in hand, and
yet by degrees led to the point, and brought him into difficulties
and contradictions, that at last he grew ridiculously cautious, and
would hardly answer me the most common question, without asking
first, "<i>What do you intend to infer from that</i>?" However, it
gave him so high an opinion 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 explain with me upon
the doctrines, I found several conundrums which I objected to,
unless I might have my way a little too, and introduce some of
mine.</p>
<p>Keimer wore his beard at full length, because somewhere in the
Mosaic law it is said, "<i>Thou shalt not mar the corners of thy
beard</i>." 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 constitution will not bear
that." I assur'd him it would, and that he would be the 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 above eighteenpence
sterling each per week. I have since kept several Lents most
strictly, leaving the common diet for that, and that for the
common, abruptly, without the least inconvenience, so that I think
there is little in the advice of making those changes by easy
gradations. I went on pleasantly, but poor Keimer suffered
grievously, tired of the project, 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.</p>
<p>I had made some courtship during this time to Miss Read. I had a
great respect and affection 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 most 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 expected, set up
in my business. Perhaps, too, she thought my expectations not so
well founded as I imagined them to be.</p>
<p>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 conveyancer in the town, Charles
Brockden; the other was clerk to a merchant. Watson was a pious,
sensible young man, of great integrity; the others rather more lax
in their principles of religion, particularly Ralph, who, as well
as Collins, had been unsettled by me, for which they both made me
suffer. Osborne was sensible, candid, frank; sincere and
affectionate to his friends; but, in literary matters, too fond of
criticizing. Ralph was ingenious, genteel in his manners, and
extremely eloquent; I think I never knew a prettier talker. Both of
them were 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.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="70%" src= "images/illus-012-red.jpg" alt="Many pleasant walks we four had together" title= "Many pleasant walks we four had together" /></div>
<p>Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the study of poetry, not doubting
but he might become eminent 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. Osborne dissuaded him, assur'd him
he had no genius for poetry, and advis'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 punctuality,
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.</p>
<p>On this it was propos'd that we should each of us, at our next
meeting, produce a piece of 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 invention by agreeing that the task should be a
version of the eighteenth Psalm, which describes the descent of a
Deity. When the time of our meeting drew nigh, Ralph called on me
first, and let me know his piece was ready. I told him I had been
busy, and, having little inclination, had done nothing. He then
show'd me his piece for my opinion, and I much approv'd it, as it
appear'd to me to have great merit. "Now," says he, "Osborne never
will allow the least merit in anything of mine, but makes 1000
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 produce 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.</p>
<p>We met; Watson's performance was read; there were some beauties
in it, but many defects. Osborne's was read; it was much better;
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 could be admitted; produce I must. It was read
and repeated; Watson and Osborne gave up 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 they two went home together, Osborne expressed himself
still more strongly in favor of what he thought my production;
having restrain'd himself before, as he said, lest I should think
it flattery. "But who would have imagin'd," 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
conversation he seems to have no choice of words; he hesitates and
blunders; and yet, good God! how he writes!" When we next met,
Ralph discovered the trick we had plaid him, and Osborne was a
little laughed at.</p>
<p>This transaction fixed Ralph in his resolution of becoming a
poet. I did all I could to dissuade him from it, but he continued
scribbling verses till <i>Pope</i> cured him.<SPAN name="FNanchor_35" id="FNanchor_35" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</SPAN>
He became, however, 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 remark 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. He and I had made a serious agreement, that
the one who happen'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 fulfill'd his promise.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_35" id="Footnote_35" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></SPAN> "In one of the
later editions of the <i>Dunciad</i> occur the following lines:</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">'Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia
howls,</div>
<div class="i2">And makes night hideous—answer him, ye
owls.'</div>
</div></div>
<p>To this the poet adds the following note:</p>
<p>'James Ralph, a name inserted after the first editions, not
known till he writ a swearing-piece called <i>Sawney</i>, very
abusive of Dr. Swift, Mr. Gay, and myself.'"</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="VI" id="VI" />VI</h4>
<h4>FIRST VISIT TO LONDON</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-t.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-T" />HE 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 different 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 extremely busy in writing,
but would be down at Newcastle, before the ship, and there the
letters would be delivered to me.</p>
<p>Ralph, though married, and having one child, had determined to
accompany me in this voyage. 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 purposed to leave her on their hands, and never
return again. Having taken leave of my friends, and interchang'd
some promises with 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
civillest 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, wished me heartily a good voyage and a
speedy return, etc. I returned on board a little puzzled, but still
not doubting.</p>
<p>Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a famous lawyer of Philadelphia, had taken
passage in the same ship for himself and son, and with Mr. Denham,
a Quaker merchant, and Messrs. Onion and Russel, masters of an iron
work in Maryland, had engaged 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 Philadelphia, 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 remov'd thither.</p>
<p>Understanding that Colonel French had brought on board the
governor's despatches, I ask'd the captain for those letters that
were to be under my care. He said all were put into the bag
together and he could not then come at them; but, before we landed
in England, 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 uncommonly well,
having the addition of all Mr. Hamilton's stores, who had laid in
plentifully. In this passage Mr. Denham contracted a friendship for
me that continued during his life. The voyage was otherwise not a
pleasant one, as we had a great deal of bad weather.</p>
<p>When we came into the Channel, the captain kept his word with
me, and gave me an opportunity of examining the bag for the
governor's letters. I found none upon which my name was put as
under my care. I 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 compleat rascal, and I will have nothing
to do with him, nor receive any letters from him." So, putting the
letter into my hand, he turn'd on his heel and left me to serve
some customer. I was surprised to find these were not the
governor's letters; and, after recollecting and comparing
circumstances, I began to doubt his sincerity. 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
smallest 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 endeavour 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."</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="70%" src= "images/illus-013-red.jpg" alt="So, putting the letter into my hand" title= "So, putting the letter into my hand" /></div>
<p>We both of us happen'd 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
Hamilton (suppos'd to be then coming over with us); and that Keith
was concerned in it with Riddlesden. Denham, who was a friend of
Hamilton'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-will to
him, I waited on him, and gave him the letter. He thank'd me
cordially, the information being of importance to him; and from
that time he became my friend, greatly to my advantage afterwards
on many occasions.</p>
<p>But what shall we think of a governor's playing 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 administration.</p>
<p>Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took lodgings
together in Little Britain<SPAN name="FNanchor_36" id="FNanchor_36" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</SPAN> at
three shillings and sixpence a week—as much as we could then
afford. He found some relations, but they were poor, and unable to
assist him. He now let me know his intentions of remaining 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;<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_37" id="FNanchor_37" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</SPAN> so he borrowed occasionally of me to subsist,
while he was looking out for business. He first endeavoured to get
into the play-house, believing himself qualify'd for an actor; but
Wilkes,<SPAN name="FNanchor_38" id="FNanchor_38" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</SPAN> to whom he apply'd,
advis'd him candidly not to think of that employment, as it was
impossible he should succeed in it. Then he propos'd to Roberts, a
publisher in Paternoster Row,<SPAN name="FNanchor_39" id="FNanchor_39" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</SPAN> to
write for him a weekly paper like the Spectator, on certain
conditions, which Roberts did not approve. Then he endeavoured to
get employment as a hackney writer, to copy for the stationers and
lawyers about the Temple,<SPAN name="FNanchor_40" id="FNanchor_40" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</SPAN>
but could find no vacancy.</p>
<p>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. We 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 another 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 constantly kept unable to pay my passage.</p>
<p>At Palmer's I was employed in composing for the second edition
of Wollaston's "Religion of Nature." Some of his reasonings not
appearing to me well founded, I wrote a little metaphysical piece
in which I made remarks on them. It was entitled "A Dissertation on
Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I inscribed 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, tho' he
seriously expostulated with me upon the principles of my pamphlet,
which to him appear'd abominable. My printing this pamphlet was
another erratum.</p>
<p>While I lodg'd in Little Britain, I made an acquaintance with
one Wilcox, a bookseller, whose shop was at the next door. He had
an immense collection 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 advantage, and I made as
much use of it as I could.</p>
<p>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 between us. He took great
notice of me, called on me often to converse on those subjects,
carried me to the Horns, a pale alehouse 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 companion. Lyons, too,
introduced me to Dr. Pemberton, at Batson's Coffee-house, who
promis'd to give me an opportunity, sometime or other, of seeing
Sir Isaac Newton, of which I was extreamly desirous; but this never
happened.</p>
<p>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 show'd me all his curiosities, and
persuaded me to let him add that to the number, for which he paid
me handsomely.</p>
<p>In our house there lodg'd a young woman, a milliner, who, I
think, had a shop in the Cloisters. She had been genteelly bred,
was sensible and lively, and of most pleasing conversation. 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 unwilling to have it known that he once
was so meanly employed, he changed his name, and did me the honour
to assume mine; for I soon after had a letter from him, acquainting
me that he was settled in a small village (in Berkshire, I think it
was, where he taught reading 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, directing for Mr. Franklin,
schoolmaster, at such a place.</p>
<p>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
endeavour'd rather to discourage his proceeding. One of Young's
Satires<SPAN name="FNanchor_41" id="FNanchor_41" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</SPAN> 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 advancement by
them. All was in vain; sheets of the poem continued to come by
every post. In the meantime, Mrs. T——, having on his
account lost her friends and business, was often in distresses, and
us'd to send for me and borrow 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 presuming upon my importance to her, I
attempted familiarities (another erratum) which she repuls'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 cancell'd all the obligations he had been
under to me. So I found I was never to expect his repaying me what
I lent to him or advanc'd for him. This, however, was not then of
much consequence, as he was totally unable; and in the loss of his
friendship I found myself relieved from a burthen. I now began to
think of getting a little money beforehand, and, expecting better
work, I left Palmer's to work at Watts's, near Lincoln's Inn
Fields, a still greater printing-house.<SPAN name="FNanchor_42" id="FNanchor_42" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</SPAN>
Here I continued all the rest of my stay in London.</p>
<p>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 <i>Water-American</i>, as they called me, was
<i>stronger</i> than themselves, who drank <i>strong</i> 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 <i>strong</i> beer, that he might be
<i>strong</i> to labour. I endeavoured to convince him that the
bodily strength afforded by beer could only be in proportion to the
grain or flour of the barley dissolved in the water of which it was
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.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p88" id="p88" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-014-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-014thumb.jpg" alt="I took to working at press" title= "I took to working at press" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"I took to working at press"</div>
<p>Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have me in the
composing-room,<SPAN name="FNanchor_43" id="FNanchor_43" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</SPAN> I left the pressmen; a new
bien venu or sum for drink, being five shillings, was demanded of
me by the compositors. I thought it an imposition, as I had paid
below; the master thought so too, and forbade my paying it. I stood
out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered as an
excommunicate, 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 chappel ghost, which they said ever haunted
those not regularly admitted, that, notwithstanding the master's
protection, I found myself oblig'd to comply and pay the money,
convinc'd of the folly of being on ill terms with those one is to
live with continually.</p>
<p>I was now on a fair footing with them, and soon acquir'd
considerable influence. I propos'd some reasonable alterations in
their chappel laws,<SPAN name="FNanchor_44" id="FNanchor_44" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</SPAN> and carried them
against all opposition. From my example, a great part of them left
their muddling breakfast of beer, and bread, and cheese, finding
they could with me be supply'd from a neighbouring 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 keep their heads clearer. Those who
continued sotting with beer all day, were often, by not paying, out
of credit at the alehouse, and us'd to make interest with me to get
beer; their <i>light</i>, as they phrased it, <i>being out</i>. 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
<i>riggite</i>, that is, a jocular verbal satirist, supported my
consequence in the society. My constant attendance (I never making
a St. Monday)<SPAN name="FNanchor_45" id="FNanchor_45" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</SPAN> recommended me to the
master; and my uncommon quickness at composing occasioned my being
put upon all work of dispatch, which was generally better paid. So
I went on now very agreeably.</p>
<p>My lodging in Little Britain being too remote, I found another
in Duke-street, opposite to the Romish Chapel. It was two pair of
stairs backwards, at an Italian warehouse. A widow lady kept the
house; she had a daughter, and a maid servant, and a journeyman who
attended the warehouse, but lodg'd abroad. After sending 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 having a man lodge in the house. She
was a widow, an elderly woman; had been bred a Protestant, being a
clergyman's daughter, but was converted to the Catholic religion by
her husband, whose memory she much revered; had lived much among
people of distinction, and knew a thousand anecdotes of them as far
back as the times 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 shilling and sixpence as long
as I staid in London.</p>
<p>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. Accordingly,
she had given all her estate to charitable 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 <i>vain thoughts</i>." I was permitted
once to visit her. She was cheerful and polite, and convers'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 her handkerchief, with the miraculous figure of Christ's
bleeding face on it,<SPAN name="FNanchor_46" id="FNanchor_46" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</SPAN> which she explained
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.</p>
<p>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 introduc'd me to some gentlemen from the country,
who went to Chelsea by water to see the College and Don Saltero's
curiosities.<SPAN name="FNanchor_47" id="FNanchor_47" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</SPAN> 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,<SPAN name="FNanchor_48" id="FNanchor_48" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</SPAN> performing on the way many
feats of activity, both upon and under water, that surpris'd and
pleas'd those to whom they were novelties.</p>
<p>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 occasion of exhibiting to the
company, and was much flatter'd by their admiration; and Wygate,
who was desirous of becoming a master, grew more and more attach'd
to me on that account, as well as from the similarity of our
studies. He at length proposed to me traveling all over Europe
together, supporting ourselves 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 dissuaded me from it, advising me to think only of
returning to Pennsylvania, which he was now about to do.</p>
<p>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 acquired a plentiful
fortune in a few years. Returning to England in the ship with me,
he invited his old creditors to an entertainment, at which he
thank'd them for the easy composition they had favoured 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.</p>
<p>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 I should be acquainted with
mercantile business, he would promote me by sending 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,<SPAN name="FNanchor_49" id="FNanchor_49" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</SPAN> Pennsylvania money; less,
indeed, than my present gettings as a compositor, but affording a
better prospect.</p>
<p>I now took leave of printing, as I thought, forever, 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
Blackfriars, 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 uncertain, so I could not undertake
it; but, from this incident, I thought it 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.</p>
<p>Thus I spent about eighteen months in London; 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 improv'd my fortune; but I had picked up some very
ingenious acquaintance, whose conversation was of great advantage
to me; and I had read considerably.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_36" id="Footnote_36" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></SPAN> One of the
oldest parts of London, north of St. Paul's Cathedral, called
"Little Britain" because the Dukes of Brittany used to live there.
See the essay entitled "Little Britain" in Washington Irving's
<i>Sketch Book</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_37" id="Footnote_37" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></SPAN> A gold coin
worth about four dollars in our money.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_38" id="Footnote_38" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></SPAN> A popular
comedian, manager of Drury Lane Theater.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_39" id="Footnote_39" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></SPAN> Street north of
St. Paul's, occupied by publishing houses.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_40" id="Footnote_40" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></SPAN> Law schools and
lawyers' residences situated southwest of St. Paul's, between Fleet
Street and the Thames.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_41" id="Footnote_41" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></SPAN> Edward Young
(1681-1765), an English poet. See his satires, Vol. III, Epist. ii,
page 70.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_42" id="Footnote_42" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></SPAN> The printing
press at which Franklin worked is preserved in the Patent Office at
Washington.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_43" id="Footnote_43" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></SPAN> Franklin now
left the work of operating the printing presses, which was largely
a matter of manual labor, and began setting type, which required
more skill and intelligence.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_44" id="Footnote_44" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></SPAN> A printing house
is called a chapel because Caxton, the first English printer, did
his printing in a chapel connected with Westminster Abbey.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_45" id="Footnote_45" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></SPAN> A holiday taken
to prolong the dissipation of Saturday's wages.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_46" id="Footnote_46" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></SPAN> The story is
that she met Christ on His way to crucifixion and offered Him her
handkerchief to wipe the blood from His face, after which the
handkerchief always bore the image of Christ's bleeding face.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_47" id="Footnote_47" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></SPAN> James Salter, a
former servant of Hans Sloane, lived in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. "His
house, a barber-shop, was known as 'Don Saltero's Coffee-House.'
The curiosities were in glass cases and constituted an amazing and
motley collection—a petrified crab from China, a 'lignified
hog,' Job's tears, Madagascar lances, William the Conqueror's
flaming sword, and Henry the Eighth's coat of
mail."—Smyth.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_48" id="Footnote_48" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></SPAN> About three
miles.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_49" id="Footnote_49" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></SPAN> About $167.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="VII" id="VII" />VII</h4>
<h4>BEGINNING BUSINESS IN PHILADELPHIA</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-w.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-W" />E sail'd from Gravesend on the 23rd 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 <i>plan</i><SPAN name="FNanchor_50" id="FNanchor_50" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</SPAN> to
be found in it, which I formed at sea, for regulating my future
conduct in life. It is the more remarkable, as being formed when I
was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite
thro' to old age.</p>
<p>We landed in Philadelphia on the 11th of October, where I found
sundry alterations. Keith was no longer governor, being superseded
by Major Gordon. I met him walking the streets as a common citizen.
He seem'd a little asham'd at seeing me, but pass'd without saying
anything. I should have been as much asham'd at seeing Miss Read,
had not her friends, despairing with reason of my return after the
receipt of my letter, persuaded her to marry another, one Rogers, a
potter, which was done in my absence. With him, however, she was
never happy, and soon parted from him, refusing to cohabit with him
or bear his name, it being now said that he had another wife. He
was a worthless fellow, tho' an excellent workman, which was the
temptation to her friends. He got into debt, ran away in 1727 or
1728, went to the West Indies, and died there. Keimer had got a
better house, a shop well supply'd with stationery, plenty of new
types, a number of hands, tho' none good, and seem'd to have a
great deal of business.</p>
<p>Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street, where we open'd our
goods; I attended the business diligently, studied accounts, and
grew, in a little time, expert at selling. We lodg'd and boarded
together; he counsell'd me as a father, having a sincere regard for
me. I respected and loved him, and we might have gone on together
very happy; but, in the beginning of February, 1726/7, when I had
just pass'd my twenty-first year, we both were taken ill. My
distemper was a pleurisy, which very nearly carried me off. I
suffered a good deal, gave up the point in my own mind, and was
rather disappointed when I found myself recovering, regretting, in
some degree, that I must now, some time or other, have all that
disagreeable work to do over again. I forget what his distemper
was; it held him a long time, and at length carried him off. He
left me a small legacy in a nuncupative will, as a token of his
kindness for me, and he left me once more to the wide world; for
the store was taken into the care of his executors, and my
employment under him ended.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="60%" src= "images/illus-015-red.jpg" alt="Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street" title= "Mr. Denham took a store in Water-street" /></div>
<p>My brother-in-law, Holmes, being now at Philadelphia, advised my
return to my business; and Keimer tempted me, with an offer of
large wages by the year, to come and take the management of his
printing-house, that he might better attend his stationer's shop. I
had heard a bad character of him in London from his wife and her
friends, and was not fond of having any more to do with him. I
tri'd for farther employment as a merchant's clerk; but, not
readily meeting with any, I clos'd again with Keimer. I found in
his house these hands: Hugh Meredith, a Welsh Pennsylvanian, thirty
years of age, bred to country work; honest, sensible, had a great
deal of solid observation, was something of a reader, but given to
drink. Stephen Potts, a young countryman of full age, bred to the
same, of uncommon natural parts, and great wit and humor, but a
little idle. These he had agreed with at extream low wages per week
to be rais'd a shilling every three months, as they would deserve
by improving in their business; and the expectation of these high
wages, to come on hereafter, was what he had drawn them in with.
Meredith was to work at press, Potts at book-binding, which he, by
agreement, was to teach them, though he knew neither one nor
t'other. John——, a wild Irishman, brought up to no
business, whose service, for four years, Keimer had purchased from
the captain of a ship; he, too, was to be made a pressman. George
Webb, an Oxford scholar, whose time for four years he had likewise
bought, intending him for a compositor, of whom more presently; and
David Harry, a country boy, whom he had taken apprentice.</p>
<p>I soon perceiv'd that the intention of engaging me at wages so
much higher than he had been us'd to give, was, to have these raw,
cheap hands form'd thro' me; and, as soon as I had instructed them,
then they being all articled to him, he should be able to do
without me. I went on, however, very chearfully, put his
printing-house in order, which had been in great confusion, and
brought his hands by degrees to mind their business and to do it
better.</p>
<p>It was an odd thing to find an Oxford scholar in the situation
of a bought servant. He was not more than eighteen years of age,
and gave me this account of himself; that he was born in
Gloucester, educated at a grammar-school there, had been
distinguish'd among the scholars for some apparent superiority in
performing his part, when they exhibited plays; belong'd to the
Witty Club there, and had written some pieces in prose and verse,
which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers; thence he was sent
to Oxford; where he continued about a year, but not well satisfi'd,
wishing of all things to see London, and become a player. At
length, receiving his quarterly allowance of fifteen guineas,
instead of discharging his debts he walk'd out of town, hid his
gown in a furze bush, and footed it to London, where, having no
friend to advise him, he fell into bad company, soon spent his
guineas, found no means of being introduc'd among the players, grew
necessitous, pawn'd his cloaths, and wanted bread. Walking the
street very hungry, and not knowing what to do with himself, a
crimp's bill<SPAN name="FNanchor_51" id="FNanchor_51" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</SPAN> was put into his hand,
offering immediate entertainment and encouragement to such as would
bind themselves to serve in America. He went directly, sign'd the
indentures, was put into the ship, and came over, never writing a
line to acquaint his friends what was become of him. He was lively,
witty, good-natur'd, and a pleasant companion, but idle,
thoughtless, and imprudent to the last degree.</p>
<p>John, the Irishman, soon ran away; with the rest I began to live
very agreeably, for they all respected me the more, as they found
Keimer incapable of instructing them, and that from me they learned
something daily. We never worked on Saturday, that being Keimer's
Sabbath, so I had two days for reading. My acquaintance with
ingenious people in the town increased. Keimer himself treated me
with great civility and apparent regard, and nothing now made me
uneasy but my debt to Vernon, which I was yet unable to pay, being
hitherto but a poor æconomist. He, however, kindly made no
demand of it.</p>
<p>Our printing-house often wanted sorts, and there was no
letter-founder in America; I had seen types cast at James's in
London, but without much attention to the manner; however, I now
contrived a mould, made use of the letters we had as puncheons,
struck the mattrices in lead, and thus supply'd in a pretty
tolerable way all deficiencies. I also engrav'd several things on
occasion; I made the ink; I was warehouseman, and everything, and,
in short, quite a fac-totum.</p>
<p>But, however serviceable I might be, I found that my services
became every day of less importance, as the other hands improv'd in
the business; and, when Keimer paid my second quarter's wages, he
let me know that he felt them too heavy, and thought I should make
an abatement. He grew by degrees less civil, put on more of the
master, frequently found fault, was captious, and seem'd ready for
an outbreaking. I went on, nevertheless, with a good deal of
patience, thinking that his encumber'd circumstances were partly
the cause. At length a trifle snapt our connections; for, a great
noise happening near the court-house, I put my head out of the
window to see what was the matter. Keimer, being in the street,
look'd up and saw me, call'd out to me in a loud voice and angry
tone to mind my business, adding some reproachful words, that
nettled me the more for their publicity, all the neighbours who
were looking out on the same occasion being witnesses how I was
treated. He came up immediately into the printing-house, continu'd
the quarrel, high words pass'd on both sides, he gave me the
quarter's warning we had stipulated, expressing a wish that he had
not been oblig'd to so long a warning. I told him his wish was
unnecessary, for I would leave him that instant; and so, taking my
hat, walk'd out of doors, desiring Meredith, whom I saw below, to
take care of some things I left, and bring them to my lodgings.</p>
<p>Meredith came accordingly in the evening, when we talked my
affair over. He had conceiv'd a great regard for me, and was very
unwilling that I should leave the house while he remain'd in it. He
dissuaded me from returning to my native country, which I began to
think of; he reminded me that Keimer was in debt for all he
possess'd; that his creditors began to be uneasy; that he kept his
shop miserably, sold often without profit for ready money, and
often trusted without keeping accounts; that he must therefore
fail, which would make a vacancy I might profit of. I objected my
want of money. He then let me know that his father had a high
opinion of me, and, from some discourse that had pass'd between
them, he was sure would advance money to set us up, if I would
enter into partnership with him. "My time," says he, "will be out
with Keimer in the spring; by that time we may have our press and
types in from London. I am sensible I am no workman; if you like
it, your skill in the business shall be set against the stock I
furnish, and we will share the profits equally."</p>
<p>The proposal was agreeable, and I consented; his father was in
town and approv'd of it; the more as he saw I had great influence
with his son, had prevailed on him to abstain long from
dram-drinking, and he hop'd might break him of that wretched habit
entirely, when we came to be so closely connected. I gave an
inventory to the father, who carry'd it to a merchant; the things
were sent for, the secret was to be kept till they should arrive,
and in the meantime I was to get work, if I could, at the other
printing-house. But I found no vacancy there, and so remained idle
a few days, when Keimer, on a prospect of being employ'd to print
some paper money in New Jersey, which would require cuts and
various types that I only could supply, and apprehending Bradford
might engage me and get the jobb from him, sent me a very civil
message, that old friends should not part for a few words, the
effect of sudden passion, and wishing me to return. Meredith
persuaded me to comply, as it would give more opportunity for his
improvement under my daily instructions; so I return'd, and we went
on more smoothly than for some time before. The New Jersey jobb was
obtained, I contriv'd a copperplate press for it, the first that
had been seen in the country; I cut several ornaments and checks
for the bills. We went together to Burlington, where I executed the
whole to satisfaction; and he received so large a sum for the work
as to be enabled thereby to keep his head much longer above
water.</p>
<p>At Burlington I made an acquaintance with many principal people
of the province. Several of them had been appointed by the Assembly
a committee to attend the press, and take care that no more bills
were printed than the law directed. They were therefore, by turns,
constantly with us, and generally he who attended, brought with him
a friend or two for company. My mind having been much more improv'd
by reading than Keimer's, I suppose it was for that reason my
conversation seem'd to be more valu'd. They had me to their houses,
introduced me to their friends, and show'd me much civility; while
he, tho' the master, was a little neglected. In truth, he was an
odd fish; ignorant of common life, fond of rudely opposing receiv'd
opinions, slovenly to extream dirtiness, enthusiastic in some
points of religion, and a little knavish withal.</p>
<p>We continu'd there near three months; and by that time I could
reckon among my acquired friends, Judge Allen, Samuel Bustill, the
secretary of the Province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper, and
several of the Smiths, members of Assembly, and Isaac Decow, the
surveyor-general. The latter was a shrewd, sagacious old man, who
told me that he began for himself, when young, by wheeling clay for
brick-makers, learned to write after he was of age, carri'd the
chain for surveyors, who taught him surveying, and he had now by
his industry, acquir'd a good estate; and says he, "I foresee that
you will soon work this man out of his business, and make a fortune
in it at Philadelphia." He had not then the least intimation of my
intention to set up there or anywhere. These friends were
afterwards of great use to me, as I occasionally was to some of
them. They all continued their regard for me as long as they
lived.</p>
<p>Before I enter upon my public appearance in business, it may be
well to let you know the then state of my mind with regard to my
principles and morals, that you may see how far those influenc'd
the future events of my life. My parents had early given me
religious impressions, and brought me through my childhood piously
in the Dissenting way. But I was scarce fifteen, when, after
doubting by turns of several points, as I found them disputed in
the different books I read, I began to doubt of Revelation itself.
Some books against Deism<SPAN name="FNanchor_52" id="FNanchor_52" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</SPAN> fell into my hands;
they were said to be the substance of sermons preached at Boyle's
Lectures. It happened that they wrought an effect on me quite
contrary to what was intended by them; for the arguments of the
Deists, which were quoted to be refuted, appeared to me much
stronger than the refutations; in short, I soon became a thorough
Deist. My arguments perverted some others, particularly Collins and
Ralph; but, each of them having afterwards wrong'd me greatly
without the least compunction, and recollecting Keith's conduct
towards me (who was another free-thinker), and my own towards
Vernon and Miss Read, which at times gave me great trouble, I began
to suspect that this doctrine, tho' it might be true, was not very
useful. My London pamphlet, which had for its motto these lines of
Dryden:<SPAN name="FNanchor_53" id="FNanchor_53" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</SPAN></p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"Whatever is, is right. Though purblind man</div>
<div class="i2a">Sees but a part o' the chain, the nearest
link:</div>
<div class="i2a">His eyes not carrying to the equal beam,</div>
<div class="i2a">That poises all above;"</div>
</div></div>
<p>and from the attributes of God, his infinite wisdom, goodness
and power, concluded that nothing could possibly be wrong in the
world, and that vice and virtue were empty distinctions, no such
things existing, appear'd now not so clever a performance as I once
thought it; and I doubted whether some error had not insinuated
itself unperceiv'd into my argument, so as to infect all that
follow'd, as is common in metaphysical reasonings.</p>
<p>I grew convinc'd that <i>truth</i>, <i>sincerity</i> and
<i>integrity</i> in dealings between man and man were of the utmost
importance to the felicity of life; and I form'd written
resolutions, which still remain in my journal book, to practice
them ever while I lived. Revelation had indeed no weight with me,
as such; but I entertain'd an opinion that, though certain actions
might not be bad <i>because</i> they were forbidden by it, or good
<i>because</i> it commanded them, yet probably these actions might
be forbidden <i>because</i> they were bad for us, or commanded
<i>because</i> they were beneficial to us, in their own natures,
all the circumstances of things considered. And this persuasion,
with the kind hand of Providence, or some guardian angel, or
accidental favourable circumstances and situations, or all
together, preserved me, thro' this dangerous time of youth, and the
hazardous situations I was sometimes in among strangers, remote
from the eye and advice of my father, without any willful gross
immorality or injustice, that might have been expected from my want
of religion. I say willful, because the instances I have mentioned
had something of <i>necessity</i> in them, from my youth,
inexperience, and the knavery of others. I had therefore a
tolerable character to begin the world with; I valued it properly,
and determin'd to preserve it.</p>
<p>We had not been long return'd to Philadelphia before the new
types arriv'd from London. We settled with Keimer, and left him by
his consent before he heard of it. We found a house to hire near
the market, and took it. To lessen the rent, which was then but
twenty-four pounds a year, tho' I have since known it to let for
seventy, we took in Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, and his family, who
were to pay a considerable part of it to us, and we to board with
them. We had scarce opened our letters and put our press in order,
before George House, an acquaintance of mine, brought a countryman
to us, whom he had met in the street inquiring for a printer. All
our cash was now expended in the variety of particulars we had been
obliged to procure, and this countryman's five shillings, being our
first-fruits, and coming so seasonably, gave me more pleasure than
any crown I have since earned; and the gratitude I felt toward
House has made me often more ready than perhaps I should otherwise
have been to assist young beginners.</p>
<p>There are croakers in every country, always boding its ruin.
Such a one then lived in Philadelphia; a person of note, an elderly
man, with a wise look and a very grave manner of speaking; his name
was Samuel Mickle. This gentleman, a stranger to me, stopt one day
at my door, and asked me if I was the young man who had lately
opened a new printing-house. Being answered in the affirmative, he
said he was sorry for me, because it was an expensive undertaking,
and the expense would be lost; for Philadelphia was a sinking
place, the people already half-bankrupts, or near being so; all
appearances to the contrary, such as new buildings and the rise of
rents, being to his certain knowledge fallacious; for they were, in
fact, among the things that would soon ruin us. And he gave me such
a detail of misfortunes now existing, or that were soon to exist,
that he left me half melancholy. Had I known him before I engaged
in this business, probably I never should have done it. This man
continued to live in this decaying place, and to declaim in the
same strain, refusing for many years to buy a house there, because
all was going to destruction; and at last I had the pleasure of
seeing him give five times as much for one as he might have bought
it for when he first began his croaking.</p>
<p>I should have mentioned before, that, in the autumn of the
preceding year, I had form'd most of my ingenious acquaintance into
a club of mutual improvement, which was called the <span class="smcap">Junto</span>;<SPAN name="FNanchor_54" id="FNanchor_54" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</SPAN> we met on Friday
evenings. The rules that I drew up required that every member, in
his turn, should produce one or more queries on any point of
Morals, Politics, or Natural Philosophy, to be discuss'd by the
company; and once in three months produce and read an essay of his
own writing, on any subject he pleased. Our debates were to be
under the direction of a president, and to be conducted in the
sincere spirit of inquiry after truth, without fondness for
dispute, or desire of victory; and, to prevent warmth, all
expressions of positiveness in opinions, or direct contradiction,
were after some time made contraband, and prohibited under small
pecuniary penalties.</p>
<p>The first members were Joseph Breintnal, a copyer of deeds for
the scriveners, a good-natur'd, friendly middle-ag'd man, a great
lover of poetry, reading all he could meet with, and writing some
that was tolerable; very ingenious in many little Nicknackeries,
and of sensible conversation.</p>
<p>Thomas Godfrey, a self-taught mathematician, great in his way,
and afterward inventor of what is now called Hadley's Quadrant. But
he knew little out of his way, and was not a pleasing companion;
as, like most great mathematicians I have met with, he expected
universal precision in everything said, or was forever denying or
distinguishing upon trifles, to the disturbance of all
conversation. He soon left us.</p>
<p>Nicholas Scull, a surveyor, afterwards surveyor-general, who
lov'd books, and sometimes made a few verses.</p>
<p>William Parsons, bred a shoemaker, but, loving reading, had
acquir'd a considerable share of mathematics, which he first
studied with a view to astrology, that he afterwards laught at it.
He also became surveyor-general.</p>
<p>William Maugridge, a joiner, a most exquisite mechanic, and a
solid, sensible man.</p>
<p>Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb I have
characteriz'd before.</p>
<p>Robert Grace, a young gentleman of some fortune, generous,
lively, and witty; a lover of punning and of his friends.</p>
<p>And William Coleman, then a merchant's clerk, about my age, who
had the coolest, clearest head, the best heart, and the exactest
morals of almost any man I ever met with. He became afterwards a
merchant of great note, and one of our provincial judges. Our
friendship continued without interruption to his death, upwards of
forty years; and the club continued almost as long, and was the
best school of philosophy, morality, and politics that then existed
in the province; for our queries, which were read the week
preceding their discussion, put us upon reading with attention upon
the several subjects, that we might speak more to the purpose; and
here, too, we acquired better habits of conversation, everything
being studied in our rules which might prevent our disgusting each
other. From hence the long continuance of the club, which I shall
have frequent occasion to speak further of hereafter.</p>
<p>But my giving this account of it here is to show something of
the interest I had, everyone of these exerting themselves in
recommending business to us. Breintnal particularly procur'd us
from the Quakers the printing forty sheets of their history, the
rest being to be done by Keimer; and upon this we work'd
exceedingly hard, for the price was low. It was a folio, pro patria
size, in pica, with long primer notes.<SPAN name="FNanchor_55" id="FNanchor_55" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</SPAN> I
compos'd of it a sheet a day, and Meredith worked it off at press;
it was often eleven at night, and sometimes later, before I had
finished my distribution for the next day's work, for the little
jobbs sent in by our other friends now and then put us back. But so
determin'd I was to continue doing a sheet a day of the folio, that
one night, when, having impos'd<SPAN name="FNanchor_56" id="FNanchor_56" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</SPAN> my
forms, I thought my day's work over, one of them by accident was
broken, and two pages reduced to pi,<SPAN name="FNanchor_57" id="FNanchor_57" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</SPAN> I
immediately distribut'd and composed it over again before I went to
bed; and this industry, visible to our neighbors, began to give us
character and credit; particularly, I was told, that mention being
made of the new printing-office at the merchants' Every-night club,
the general opinion was that it must fail, there being already two
printers in the place, Keimer and Bradford; but Dr. Baird (whom you
and I saw many years after at his native place, St. Andrew's in
Scotland) gave a contrary opinion: "For the industry of that
Franklin," says he, "is superior to anything I ever saw of the
kind; I see him still at work when I go home from club, and he is
at work again before his neighbors are out of bed." This struck the
rest, and we soon after had offers from one of them to supply us
with stationery; but as yet we did not chuse to engage in shop
business.</p>
<p>I mention this industry the more particularly and the more
freely, tho' it seems to be talking in my own praise, that those of
my posterity, who shall read it, may know the use of that virtue,
when they see its effects in my favour throughout this
relation.</p>
<p>George Webb, who had found a female friend that lent him
wherewith to purchase his time of Keimer, now came to offer himself
as a journeyman to us. We could not then employ him; but I
foolishly let him know as a secret that I soon intended to begin a
newspaper, and might then have work for him. My hopes of success,
as I told him, were founded on this, that the then only newspaper,
printed by Bradford, was a paltry thing, wretchedly manag'd, no way
entertaining, and yet was profitable to him; I therefore thought a
good paper would scarcely fail of good encouragement. I requested
Webb not to mention it; but he told it to Keimer, who immediately,
to be beforehand with me, published proposals for printing one
himself, on which Webb was to be employ'd. I resented this; and, to
counteract them, as I could not yet begin our paper, I wrote
several pieces of entertainment for Bradford's paper, under the
title of the <span class="smcap">Busy Body</span>, which Breintnal
continu'd some months. By this means the attention of the publick
was fixed on that paper, and Keimer's proposals, which we
burlesqu'd and ridicul'd, were disregarded. He began his paper,
however, and, after carrying it on three quarters of a year, with
at most only ninety subscribers, he offered it to me for a trifle;
and I, having been ready some time to go on with it, took it in
hand directly; and it prov'd in a few years extremely profitable to
me.</p>
<p>I perceive that I am apt to speak in the singular number, though
our partnership still continu'd; the reason may be that, in fact,
the whole management of the business lay upon me. Meredith was no
compositor, a poor pressman, and seldom sober. My friends lamented
my connection with him, but I was to make the best of it.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p120" id="p120" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-016-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-016thumb.jpg" alt="I see him still at work when I go home from club" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"I see him still at work when I go home
from club"</div>
<p>Our first papers made a quite different appearance from any
before in the province; a better type, and better printed; but some
spirited remarks of my writing, on the dispute then going on
between Governor Burnet and the Massachusetts Assembly, struck the
principal people, occasioned the paper and the manager of it to be
much talk'd of, and in a few weeks brought them all to be our
subscribers.</p>
<p>Their example was follow'd by many, and our number went on
growing continually. This was one of the first good effects of my
having learnt a little to scribble; another was, that the leading
men, seeing a newspaper now in the hands of one who could also
handle a pen, thought it convenient to oblige and encourage me.
Bradford still printed the votes, and laws, and other publick
business. He had printed an address of the House to the governor,
in a coarse, blundering manner; we reprinted it elegantly and
correctly, and sent one to every member. They were sensible of the
difference: it strengthened the hands of our friends in the House,
and they voted us their printers for the year ensuing.</p>
<p>Among my friends in the House I must not forget Mr. Hamilton,
before mentioned, who was then returned from England, and had a
seat in it. He interested himself for me strongly in that instance,
as he did in many others afterward, continuing his patronage till
his death.<SPAN name="FNanchor_58" id="FNanchor_58" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</SPAN></p>
<p>Mr. Vernon, about this time, put me in mind of the debt I ow'd
him, but did not press me. I wrote him an ingenuous letter of
acknowledgment, crav'd his forbearance a little longer, which he
allow'd me, and as soon as I was able, I paid the principal with
interest, and many thanks; so that erratum was in some degree
corrected.</p>
<p>But now another difficulty came upon me which I had never the
least reason to expect. Mr. Meredith's father, who was to have paid
for our printing-house, according to the expectations given me, was
able to advance only one hundred pounds currency, which had been
paid; and a hundred more was due to the merchant, who grew
impatient, and su'd us all. We gave bail, but saw that, if the
money could not be rais'd in time, the suit must soon come to a
judgment and execution, and our hopeful prospects must, with us, be
ruined, as the press and letters must be sold for payment, perhaps
at half price.</p>
<p>In this distress two true friends, whose kindness I have never
forgotten, nor ever shall forget while I can remember any thing,
came to me separately, unknown to each other, and, without any
application from me, offering each of them to advance me all the
money that should be necessary to enable me to take the whole
business upon myself, if that should be practicable; but they did
not like my continuing the partnership with Meredith, who, as they
said, was often seen drunk in the streets, and playing at low games
in alehouses, much to our discredit. These two friends were William
Coleman and Robert Grace. I told them I could not propose a
separation while any prospect remain'd of the Meredith's fulfilling
their part of our agreement, because I thought myself under great
obligations to them for what they had done, and would do if they
could; but, if they finally fail'd in their performance, and our
partnership must be dissolv'd, I should then think myself at
liberty to accept the assistance of my friends.</p>
<p>Thus the matter rested for some time, when I said to my partner,
"Perhaps your father is dissatisfied at the part you have
undertaken in this affair of ours, and is unwilling to advance for
you and me what he would for you alone. If that is the case, tell
me, and I will resign the whole to you, and go about my business."
"No," said he, "my father has really been disappointed, and is
really unable; and I am unwilling to distress him farther. I see
this is a business I am not fit for. I was bred a farmer, and it
was a folly in me to come to town, and put myself, at thirty years
of age, an apprentice to learn a new trade. Many of our Welsh
people are going to settle in North Carolina, where land is cheap.
I am inclin'd to go with them, and follow my old employment. You
may find friends to assist you. If you will take the debts of the
company upon you; return to my father the hundred pounds he has
advanced; pay my little personal debts, and give me thirty pounds
and a new saddle, I will relinquish the partnership, and leave the
whole in your hands." I agreed to this proposal: it was drawn up in
writing, sign'd, and seal'd immediately. I gave him what he
demanded, and he went soon after to Carolina, from whence he sent
me next year two long letters, containing the best account that had
been given of that country, the climate, the soil, husbandry, etc.,
for in those matters he was very judicious. I printed them in the
papers, and they gave great satisfaction to the publick.</p>
<p>As soon as he was gone, I recurr'd to my two friends; and
because I would not give an unkind preference to either, I took
half of what each had offered and I wanted of one, and half of the
other; paid off the company's debts, and went on with the business
in my own name, advertising that the partnership was dissolved. I
think this was in or about the year 1729.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></SPAN> "Not found in
the manuscript journal, which was left among Franklin's
papers."—Bigelow.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></SPAN> A crimp was the
agent of a shipping company. Crimps were sometimes employed to
decoy men into such service as is here mentioned.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></SPAN> The creed of an
eighteenth century theological sect which, while believing in God,
refused to credit the possibility of miracles and to acknowledge
the validity of revelation.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></SPAN> A great English
poet, dramatist, and critic (1631-1700). The lines are inaccurately
quoted from Dryden's Œdipus, Act III, Scene I, line 293.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_54" id="Footnote_54" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></SPAN> A Spanish term
meaning a combination for political intrigue; here a club or
society.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_55" id="Footnote_55" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></SPAN> A sheet 8-1/2 by
13-1/2 inches, having the words <i>pro patria</i> in translucent
letters in the body of the paper. Pica—a size of type; as,
<big><big>A B C D</big></big>: Long Primer—a
smaller size of type; as, <big>A B C D.</big></p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_56" id="Footnote_56" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></SPAN> To arrange and
lock up pages or columns of type in a rectangular iron frame, ready
for printing.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_57" id="Footnote_57" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></SPAN> Reduced to
complete disorder.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_58" id="Footnote_58" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></SPAN> I got his son
once £500.—<i>Marg. note</i>.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="VIII" id="VIII" />VIII</h4>
<h4>BUSINESS SUCCESS AND FIRST PUBLIC SERVICE</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-a.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-a" />BOUT this time there was a cry among the people for
more paper money, only fifteen thousand pounds being extant in the
province, and that soon to be sunk.<SPAN name="FNanchor_59" id="FNanchor_59" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</SPAN>
The wealthy inhabitants oppos'd any addition, being against all
paper currency, from an apprehension that it would depreciate, as
it had done in New England, to the prejudice of all creditors. We
had discuss'd this point in our Junto, where I was on the side of
an addition, being persuaded that the first small sum struck in
1723 had done much good by increasing the trade, employment, and
number of inhabitants in the province, since I now saw all the old
houses inhabited, and many new ones building: whereas I remembered
well, that when I first walk'd about the streets of Philadelphia,
eating my roll, I saw most of the houses in Walnut Street, between
Second and Front streets,<SPAN name="FNanchor_60" id="FNanchor_60" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</SPAN>
with bills on their doors, "To be let"; and many likewise in
Chestnut-street and other streets, which made me then think the
inhabitants of the city were deserting it one after another.</p>
<p>Our debates possess'd me so fully of the subject, that I wrote
and printed an anonymous pamphlet on it, entitled "<i>The Nature
and Necessity of a Paper Currency</i>." It was well receiv'd by the
common people in general; but the rich men dislik'd it, for it
increas'd and strengthen'd the clamor for more money, and they
happening to have no writers among them that were able to answer
it, their opposition slacken'd, and the point was carried by a
majority in the House. My friends there, who conceiv'd I had been
of some service, thought fit to reward me by employing me in
printing the money; a very profitable jobb and a great help to me.
This was another advantage gain'd by my being able to write.</p>
<p>The utility of this currency became by time and experience so
evident as never afterwards to be much disputed; so that it grew
soon to fifty-five thousand pounds, and in 1739 to eighty thousand
pounds, since which it arose during war to upwards of three hundred
and fifty thousand pounds, trade, building, and inhabitants all the
while increasing, tho' I now think there are limits beyond which
the quantity may be hurtful.<SPAN name="FNanchor_61" id="FNanchor_61" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</SPAN></p>
<p>I soon after obtain'd, thro' my friend Hamilton, the printing of
the Newcastle paper money, another profitable jobb as I then
thought it; small things appearing great to those in small
circumstances; and these, to me, were really great advantages, as
they were great encouragements. He procured for me, also, the
printing of the laws and votes of that government, which continu'd
in my hands as long as I follow'd the business.</p>
<p>I now open'd a little stationer's shop. I had in it blanks of
all sorts, the correctest that ever appear'd among us, being
assisted in that by my friend Breintnal. I had also paper,
parchment, chapmen's books, etc. One Whitemash, a compositor I had
known in London, an excellent workman, now came to me, and work'd
with me constantly and diligently; and I took an apprentice, the
son of Aquilla Rose.</p>
<p>I was under for the printing-house. In order to secure my credit
and character as a tradesman, I took care not only to be in
<i>reality</i> industrious and frugal, but to avoid all appearances
to the contrary. I drest plainly; I was seen at no places of idle
diversion. I never went out a fishing or shooting; a book, indeed,
sometimes debauch'd me from my work, but that was seldom, snug, and
gave no scandal; and, to show that I was not above my business, I
sometimes brought home the paper I purchas'd at the stores thro'
the streets on a wheelbarrow. Thus being esteem'd an industrious,
thriving young man, and paying duly for what I bought, the
merchants who imported stationery solicited my custom; others
proposed supplying me with books, and I went on swimmingly. In the
meantime, Keimer's credit and business declining daily, he was at
last forc'd to sell his printing-house to satisfy his creditors. He
went to Barbadoes, and there lived some years in very poor
circumstances.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="50%" src= "images/illus-018-red.jpg" alt="I sometimes brought home the paper I purchas'd at the stores thro' the streets on a wheelbarrow" title= "I sometimes brought home the paper I purchas'd at the stores thro' the streets on a wheelbarrow" /></div>
<p>His apprentice, David Harry, whom I had instructed while I
work'd with him, set up in his place at Philadelphia, having bought
his materials. I was at first apprehensive of a powerful rival in
Harry, as his friends were very able, and had a good deal of
interest. I therefore propos'd a partnership to him, which he,
fortunately for me, rejected with scorn. He was very proud, dress'd
like a gentleman, liv'd expensively, took much diversion and
pleasure abroad, ran in debt, and neglected his business; upon
which, all business left him; and, finding nothing to do, he
followed Keimer to Barbadoes, taking the printing-house with him.
There this apprentice employ'd his former master as a journeyman;
they quarrell'd often; Harry went continually behindhand, and at
length was forc'd to sell his types and return to his country work
in Pennsylvania. The person that bought them employ'd Keimer to use
them, but in a few years he died.</p>
<p>There remained now no competitor with me at Philadelphia but the
old one, Bradford; who was rich and easy, did a little printing now
and then by straggling hands, but was not very anxious about the
business. However, as he kept the post-office, it was imagined he
had better opportunities of obtaining news; his paper was thought a
better distributer of advertisements than mine, and therefore had
many more, which was a profitable thing to him, and a disadvantage
to me; for, tho' I did indeed receive and send papers by the post,
yet the publick opinion was otherwise, for what I did send was by
bribing the riders, who took them privately, Bradford being unkind
enough to forbid it, which occasion'd some resentment on my part;
and I thought so meanly of him for it, that, when I afterward came
into his situation, I took care never to imitate it.</p>
<p>I had hitherto continu'd to board with Godfrey, who lived in
part of my house with his wife and children, and had one side of
the shop for his glazier's business, tho' he worked little, being
always absorbed in his mathematics. Mrs. Godfrey projected a match
for me with a relation's daughter, took opportunities of bringing
us often together, till a serious courtship on my part ensu'd, the
girl being in herself very deserving. The old folks encourag'd me
by continual invitations to supper, and by leaving us together,
till at length it was time to explain. Mrs. Godfrey manag'd our
little treaty. I let her know that I expected as much money with
their daughter as would pay off my remaining debt for the
printing-house, which I believe was not then above a hundred
pounds. She brought me word they had no such sum to spare; I said
they might mortgage their house in the loan-office. The answer to
this, after some days, was, that they did not approve the match;
that, on inquiry of Bradford, they had been informed the printing
business was not a profitable one; the types would soon be worn
out, and more wanted; that S. Keimer and D. Harry had failed one
after the other, and I should probably soon follow them; and,
therefore, I was forbidden the house, and the daughter shut up.</p>
<p>Whether this was a real change of sentiment or only artifice, on
a supposition of our being too far engaged in affection to retract,
and therefore that we should steal a marriage, which would leave
them at liberty to give or withhold what they pleas'd, I know not;
but I suspected the latter, resented it, and went no more. Mrs.
Godfrey brought me afterward some more favorable accounts of their
disposition, and would have drawn me on again; but I declared
absolutely my resolution to have nothing more to do with that
family. This was resented by the Godfreys; we differed, and they
removed, leaving me the whole house, and I resolved to take no more
inmates.</p>
<p>But this affair having turned my thoughts to marriage, I look'd
round me and made overtures of acquaintance in other places; but
soon found that, the business of a printer being generally thought
a poor one, I was not to expect money with a wife, unless with such
a one as I should not otherwise think agreeable. A friendly
correspondence as neighbours and old acquaintances had continued
between me and Mrs. 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 consulted in their affairs, wherein I sometimes was of
service. I piti'd poor Miss Read's unfortunate situation, who was
generally dejected, seldom chearful, and avoided company. I
considered 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,
which his successor might be call'd upon to pay. We ventured,
however, over all these difficulties, and I took her to wife,
September 1st, 1730. None of the inconveniences happened that we
had apprehended; she proved a good and faithful helpmate,<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_62" id="FNanchor_62" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</SPAN> assisted me much by attending the shop; we
throve together, and have ever mutually endeavour'd to make each
other happy. Thus I corrected that great <i>erratum</i> as well as
I could.</p>
<p>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 advantage 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
inconveniences occurring for want of due care of them, the
collection, after about a year, was separated, and each took his
books home again.</p>
<p>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 defense of their privileges.<SPAN name="FNanchor_63" id="FNanchor_63" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</SPAN></p>
<p><i>Mem°.</i> Thus far was written with the intention
express'd in the beginning and therefore contains several little
family anecdotes of no importance to others. What follows was
written many years after in compliance with the advice contain'd in
these letters, and accordingly intended for the public. The affairs
of the Revolution occasion'd the interruption.<SPAN name="FNanchor_64" id="FNanchor_64" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</SPAN></p>
<p>[<i>Continuation of the Account of my Life, begun at Passy, near
Paris, 1784.</i>]</p>
<p>It is some time since I receiv'd the above letters, but I have
been too busy till now to think of complying with the request they
contain. It might, too, be much better done if I were at home among
my papers, which would aid my memory, and help to ascertain dates;
but my return being uncertain, and having just now a little
leisure, I will endeavour to recollect and write what I can; if I
live to get home, it may there be corrected and improv'd.</p>
<p>Not having any copy here of what is already written, I know not
whether an account is given of the means I used to establish the
Philadelphia public library, which, from a small beginning, is now
become so considerable, though I remember to have come down to near
the time of that transaction (1730). I will therefore begin here
with an account of it, which may be struck out if found to have
been already given.</p>
<p>At the time I establish'd myself in Pennsylvania, there was not
a good bookseller's shop in any of the colonies to the southward of
Boston. In New York and Philad'a the printers were indeed
stationers; they sold only paper, etc., almanacs, ballads, and a
few common school-books. Those who lov'd reading were obliged to
send for their books from England; the members of the Junto had
each a few. We 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 common benefit, each of us
being at liberty to borrow such as he wish'd to read at home. This
was accordingly done, and for some time contented us.</p>
<p>Finding the advantage of this little collection, I propos'd to
render the benefit from books more common, by commencing a public
subscription 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 engag'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 institution soon
manifested its utility, was imitated by other towns, and in other
provinces. The libraries were augmented by donations; reading
became fashionable; and our people, having no publick amusements to
divert their attention from study, became better acquainted with
books, and in a few years were observ'd by strangers to be better
instructed and more intelligent than people of the same rank
generally are in other countries.</p>
<p>When we were about to sign the above mentioned 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 incorporated and gave perpetuity to the
company.</p>
<p>The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting the
subscriptions, made me soon feel the impropriety of presenting
one's self as the proposer of any useful project, that might be
suppos'd to raise one's reputation in the smallest degree above
that of one's neighbours, 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 <i>number of
friends</i>, 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 frequent successes, can heartily recommend it. The
present little sacrifice of your vanity will afterwards be amply
repaid. If it remains a while uncertain to whom the merit belongs,
someone more vain than yourself will be encouraged 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.</p>
<p>This library afforded me the means of improvement by constant
study, for which I set apart an hour or two each day, and thus
repair'd 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 frolicks 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
business two printers, who were established in the place before me.
My circumstances, however, grew daily easier. My original habits of
frugality 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 before 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 I should ever literally <i>stand
before kings</i>, which, however, has since happened; for I have
stood before <i>five</i>, and even had the honor of sitting down
with one, the King of Denmark, to dinner.</p>
<p>We have an English proverb that says, "<i>He that would thrive,
must ask his wife</i>." It was lucky for me that I had one as much
dispos'd to industry and frugality as myself. She assisted me
chearfully in my business, folding and stitching pamphlets, tending
shop, purchasing 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 break and milk (no tea), and I ate it out of a twopenny
earthen porringer, with a pewter spoon. But mark how luxury will
enter families, 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 three-and-twenty
shillings, for which she had no other excuse or apology to make,
but that she thought <i>her</i> husband deserv'd a silver spoon and
China bowl as well as any of his neighbors. This was the first
appearance of plate and China in our house, which afterward, in a
course of years, as our wealth increas'd, augmented gradually to
several hundred pounds in value.</p>
<p>I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; and though
some of the dogmas of that persuasion, such as the <i>eternal
decrees of God</i>, <i>election</i>, <i>reprobation</i>,
<i>etc.</i>, 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 govern'd it by his Providence;
that the most acceptable 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 country, I respected them all, tho' with
different degrees of respect, as I found them more or less mix'd
with other articles, which, without any tendency to inspire,
promote, or confirm morality, 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, induc'd me to avoid
all discourse that might tend to lessen the good opinion another
might have of his own religion; and as our province increas'd in
people, and new places of worship were continually wanted, and
generally erected by voluntary contribution, my mite for such
purpose, whatever might be the sect, was never refused.</p>
<p>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 sometimes as a friend, and
admonished me to attend his administrations, and I was now and then
prevail'd on to do so, once for five Sundays successively. Had he
been in my opinion a good preacher, perhaps I might have
continued,<SPAN name="FNanchor_65" id="FNanchor_65" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</SPAN> notwithstanding the
occasion I had for the Sunday's leisure in my course of study; but
his discourses were chiefly either polemic arguments, or
explications of the peculiar doctrines of our sect, and were all to
me very dry, uninteresting, and unedifying, since not a single
moral principle was inculcated or enforc'd, their aim seeming to be
rather to make us Presbyterians than good citizens.</p>
<p>At length he took for his text that verse of the fourth chapter
of Philippians, "<i>Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true,
honest, just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there be any
virtue, or any praise, think on these things.</i>" 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.: 1. Keeping holy the Sabbath day. 2. Being
diligent in reading the holy Scriptures. 3. Attending duly the
publick worship. 4. Partaking of the Sacrament. 5. Paying a due
respect to God's ministers. These might be all good things; but, as
they were not the kind of good things that I expected from that
text, I despaired of ever meeting with them from any other, was
disgusted, and attended his preaching no more. I had some years
before compos'd a little Liturgy, or form of prayer, for my own
private use (viz., in 1728), entitled, <i>Articles of Belief and
Acts of Religion</i>. I return'd to the use of this, and went no
more to the public assemblies. My conduct might be blameable, but I
leave it, without attempting further to excuse it; my present
purpose being to relate facts, and not to make apologies for
them.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_59" id="Footnote_59" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></SPAN> Recalled to be
redeemed.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_60" id="Footnote_60" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></SPAN> This part of
Philadelphia is now the center of the wholesale business
district.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_61" id="Footnote_61" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></SPAN> Paper money is a
promise to pay its face value in gold or silver. When a state or
nation issues more such promises than there is a likelihood of its
being able to redeem, the paper representing the promises
depreciates in value. Before the success of the Colonies in the
Revolution was assured, it took hundreds of dollars of their paper
money to buy a pair of boots.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_62" id="Footnote_62" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></SPAN> Mrs. Franklin
survived her marriage over forty years. Franklin's correspondence
abounds with evidence that their union was a happy one. "We are
grown old together, and if she has any faults, I am so used to them
that I don't perceive them." The following is a stanza from one of
Franklin's own songs written for the Junto:</p>
<div class="poem2">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"Of their Chloes and Phyllises poets may
prate,</div>
<div class="i2b">I sing my plain country Joan,</div>
<div class="i2">These twelve years my wife, still the joy of my
life,</div>
<div class="i2b">Blest day that I made her my own."</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_63" id="Footnote_63" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></SPAN> Here the first
part of the <i>Autobiography</i>, written at Twyford in 1771, ends.
The second part, which follows, was written at Passy in 1784.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_64" id="Footnote_64" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></SPAN> After this
memorandum, Franklin inserted letters from Abel James and Benjamin
Vaughan, urging him to continue his <i>Autobiography</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_65" id="Footnote_65" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></SPAN> Franklin
expressed a different view about the duty of attending church
later.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="IX" id="IX" />IX</h4>
<h4>PLAN FOR ATTAINING MORAL PERFECTION</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-i.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-I" />T was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous
project of arriving at moral perfection. 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 not always do the one and avoid the other. But I soon
found I had undertaken a task of more difficulty than I had
imagined.<SPAN name="FNanchor_66" id="FNanchor_66" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</SPAN> While my care was employ'd
in guarding against one fault, I was often surprised by another;
habit took the advantage of inattention; inclination was sometimes
too strong for reason. 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 dependence on a steady, uniform
rectitude of conduct. For this purpose I therefore contrived the
following method.</p>
<p>In the various enumerations of the moral virtues I had met with
in my reading, I found the 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 moderating
every other pleasure, appetite, inclination, 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.</p>
<p>These names of virtues, with their precepts, were:</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">1. Temperance</span></p>
<p>Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">2. Silence.</span></p>
<p>Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid
trifling conversation.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">3. Order.</span></p>
<p>Let all your things have their places; let each part of your
business have its time.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">4. Resolution.</span></p>
<p>Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you
resolve.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">5. Frugality.</span></p>
<p>Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; <i>i.
e.</i>, waste nothing.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">6. Industry.</span></p>
<p>Lose no time; be always employ'd in something useful; cut off
all unnecessary actions.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">7. Sincerity.</span></p>
<p>Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly; and, if you
speak, speak accordingly.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">8. Justice.</span></p>
<p>Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are
your duty.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">9. Moderation.</span></p>
<p>Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think
they deserve.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">10. Cleanliness.</span></p>
<p>Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">11. Tranquillity.</span></p>
<p>Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or
unavoidable.</p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">12. Chastity.</span><br/></p>
<p class="three"><span class="smcap">13. Humility.</span></p>
<p>Imitate Jesus and Socrates.</p>
<p>My intention being to acquire the <i>habitude</i> of all 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 thro' 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 necessary where
constant vigilance was to be kept up, and guard maintained against
the unremitting 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 considering 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 company, I gave <i>Silence</i> the second
place. This and the next, <i>Order</i>, I expected would allow me
more time for attending to my project and my studies.
<i>Resolution</i>, once become habitual, would keep me firm in my
endeavours to obtain all the subsequent virtues; <i>Frugality</i>
and 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<SPAN name="FNanchor_67" id="FNanchor_67" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</SPAN> in
his Golden Verses, daily examination would be necessary, I
contrived the following method for conducting that examination.</p>
<p>I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each of the
virtues.<SPAN name="FNanchor_68" id="FNanchor_68" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</SPAN> I rul'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
columns with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning 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.</p>
<div class="center"><i>Form of the pages.</i></div>
<table summary="Morality" border="2" cellpadding="2"
cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="8" align="center">TEMPERANCE.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="8" align="center"><small>EAT NOT TO DULLNESS<br/>
DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION</small>.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">S.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">M.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">T.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">W.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">T.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">F.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">S.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">T.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">S.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">O.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">* *</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">R.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">F.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">I.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8">*</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">S.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">J.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">M.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">C.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">T.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">C.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">H.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_ltc8">J.</td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
<td class="cell_ltc8"> </td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>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 offense against <i>Temperance</i>, 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 extending my attention to include the next,
and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots.
Proceeding thus to the last, I could go thro' a course compleat 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 on one of the beds at a time, and, having accomplish'd the
first, proceeds to a second, so I should have, I hoped, the
encouraging pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress I 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.</p>
<p>This my little book had for its motto these lines from Addison's
<i>Cato</i>:</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"Here will I hold. If there's a power above
us</div>
<div class="i2a">(And that there is, all nature cries aloud</div>
<div class="i2a">Thro' all her works), He must delight in
virtue;</div>
<div class="i2a">And that which he delights in must be
happy."</div>
</div></div>
<p>Another from Cicero,</p>
<p class="one">"O vitæ Philosophia dux! O virtutum indagatrix
expultrixque vitiorum! Unus dies, bene et ex præceptis tuis
actus, peccanti immortalitati est anteponendus."<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_69" id="FNanchor_69" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</SPAN></p>
<p>Another from the Proverbs of Solomon, speaking of wisdom or
virtue:</p>
<p class="one">"Length of days is in her right hand, and in her
left hand riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and
all her paths are peace." iii. 16, 17.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p class="one">"<i>O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful
Guide! Increase in me that wisdom which discovers my truest
interest. Strengthen my resolutions to perform what that wisdom
dictates. Accept my kind offices to thy other children as the only
return in my power for thy continual favours to me</i>."</p>
<p>I used also sometimes a little prayer which I took from
Thomson's Poems, viz.:</p>
<div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i0">"Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme!</div>
<div class="i0b">O teach me what is good; teach me Thyself!</div>
<div class="i0b">Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,</div>
<div class="i0b">From every low pursuit; and fill my soul</div>
<div class="i0b">With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue
pure;</div>
<div class="i0b">Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss!"</div>
</div></div>
<p>The precept of <i>Order</i> requiring that <i>every part of my
business should have its allotted time</i>, one page in my little
book contain'd the following scheme of employment for the
twenty-four hours of a natural day.</p>
<table class="inline" summary="schedule">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para1" rowspan="7">
<div class="smcapi">The Morning.</div>
<br/>
<i>Question</i> What good shall I do this day?</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="7"><ANTIMG src="images/para.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para3">5</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="7"><ANTIMG src="images/para2.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para4" rowspan="7"> Rise, wash, and
address <i>Powerfull Goodness!</i> Contrive day's business, and
take the resolution of the day: prosecute the present study, and
breakfast.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">6</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3"> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">7</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table class="inline" summary="schedule">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para1" rowspan="4">
<div class="smcapi"> </div>
</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="4"> </td>
<td class="cell_para3">8</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="4"><ANTIMG src="images/para3.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para4" rowspan="4"> Work.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">9</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">10</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">11</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table class="inline" summary="schedule">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para1" rowspan="2">
<div class="smcapi">Noon.</div>
</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="2"><ANTIMG src="images/para4l.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para3">12</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="2"><ANTIMG src="images/para4.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para4" rowspan="2"> Read, or overlook my
accounts, and dine.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">1</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table class="inline" summary="schedule">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para1" rowspan="4">
<div class="smcapi"> </div>
</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="4"> </td>
<td class="cell_para3">2</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="4"><ANTIMG src="images/para3.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para4" rowspan="4"> Work.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">4</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">5</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table class="inline" summary="schedule">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para1" rowspan="4">
<div class="smcapi">Evening</div>
<br/>
<i>Question.</i> What good have I done to-day?</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="4"><ANTIMG src="images/para3l.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para3">6</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="4"><ANTIMG src="images/para3.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para4" rowspan="4"> Put things in their
places. Supper. Music or diversion, or conversation.Examination of
the day.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">7</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">8</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">9</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table class="inline" summary="schedule">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para1" rowspan="7">
<div class="smcapi">Night</div>
</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="7"><ANTIMG src="images/para.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para3">10</td>
<td class="cell_para2" rowspan="7"><ANTIMG src="images/para2.jpg"
height="100%" alt="para" /></td>
<td class="cell_para4" rowspan="7"> Sleep.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">11</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">12</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">2</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">3</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_para3">4</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>I enter'd upon the execution of this plan for self-examination,
and continu'd it with occasional intermissions for some time. I was
surpris'd to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had
imagined; but I had the satisfaction 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 transferr'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 multiplicity of
affairs that interfered; but I always carried my little book with
me.</p>
<p>My scheme of <span class="smcap">Order</span> gave me the most
trouble;<SPAN name="FNanchor_70" id="FNanchor_70" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</SPAN> 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. <i>Order</i>, too, with regard to places for
things, papers, etc., I found extreamly difficult to acquire. I had
not been early accustomed to it, and, having 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 neighbour, 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,
"<i>but I think I like a speckled ax best</i>." 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 concluded that "<i>a speckled ax was
best</i>"; for something, that pretended to be reason, was every
now and then suggesting to me that such extream 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 perfect character might be
attended with the inconvenience of being envied and hated; and that
a benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself, to keep his
friends in countenance.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="50%" src= "images/illus-020-red.jpg" alt="The smith consented to grind it bright for him if he would turn the wheel" title= "The smith consented to grind it bright for him if he would turn the wheel" /></div>
<p>In truth, I found myself incorrigible with respect 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 obtaining, 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 attempted 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.</p>
<p>It may be well my posterity should be informed that to this
little artifice, with the blessing 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 attend the remainder is in the hand
of Providence; but, if they arrive, the reflection on past
happiness enjoy'd ought to help his bearing them with more
resignation. To Temperance 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 his circumstances and
acquisition of his fortune, with all that knowledge that enabled
him to be a useful citizen, and obtained for him some degree of
reputation among the learned; to Sincerity and Justice, the
confidence of his country, and the honorable employs it conferred
upon him; and to the joint influence of the whole mass of the
virtues,<SPAN name="FNanchor_71" id="FNanchor_71" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</SPAN> even in the imperfect
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.</p>
<p>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 excellency of my method,
and that it might be serviceable to people in all religions, and
intending some time or other to publish it, I would not have
anything in it that should prejudice anyone, of any sect, against
it. I purposed 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 <span class="smcap">The Art of Virtue</span>,<SPAN name="FNanchor_72" id="FNanchor_72" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</SPAN>
because it would have shown the means and manner of obtaining
virtue, which would 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, exhorted them to be fed and clothed.—James ii. 15,
16.</p>
<p>But it so happened that my intention of writing 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 attention to private business in the earlier part
of my life, and public business since, have occasioned my
postponing it; for, it being connected in my mind with <i>a great
and extensive project</i>, that required the whole man to execute,
and which an unforeseen succession of employs prevented my
attending to, it has hitherto remain'd unfinish'd.</p>
<p>In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce this
doctrine, that vicious actions are not hurtful because they are
forbidden, but forbidden because they are hurtful, the nature of
man alone considered; that it was, therefore, everyone'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, states, and princes, who have
need of honest instruments for the management of their affairs, and
such being so rare), have endeavoured to convince young persons
that no qualities were so likely to make a poor man's fortune as
those of probity and integrity.</p>
<p>My list of virtues contain'd 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 conversation; that
I was not content with being in the right when discussing any
point, but was overbearing, and rather insolent, of which he
convinc'd 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 <i>Humility</i> to my list, giving an
extensive meaning to the word.</p>
<p>I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the <i>reality</i>
of this virtue, but I had a good deal with regard to the
<i>appearance</i> of it. I made it a rule to forbear all direct
contradiction to the sentiments of others, and all positive
assertion of my own. I even forbid myself, agreeably to the old
laws of our Junto, the use of every word or expression in the
language that imported a fix'd opinion, such as <i>certainly,
undoubtedly</i>, etc., and I adopted, instead of them, <i>I
conceive, I apprehend</i>, or <i>I imagine</i> a thing to be so or
so; or it <i>so appears to me at present</i>. When another asserted
something that I thought an error, I deny'd myself the pleasure 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 <i>appear'd</i> or <i>seem'd</i> to
me some difference, etc. I soon found the advantage of this change
in my manner; the conversations I engag'd in went on more
pleasantly. The modest way in which I propos'd my opinions procur'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
with me when I happened to be in the right.</p>
<p>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 perhaps 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 hesitation in my choice of
words, hardly correct in language, and yet I generally carried my
points.</p>
<p>In reality, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural passions so
hard to subdue as <i>pride</i>. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat
it down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still
alive, and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you
will see it, perhaps, often in this history; for, even if I could
conceive that I had compleatly overcome it, I should probably be
proud of my humility.</p>
<p>[Thus far written at Passy, 1784.]</p>
<p>[<i>"I am now about to write at home, August, 1788, but cannot
have the help expected from my papers, many of them being lost in
the war. I have, however, found the following."</i>]<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_73" id="FNanchor_73" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Having</span> mentioned <i>a great and
extensive project</i> which I had conceiv'd, it seems proper that
some account should be here given of that project and its object.
Its first rise in my mind appears in the following little paper,
accidentally preserv'd, viz.:</p>
<p><i>Observations</i> on my reading history, in Library, May 19th,
1731.</p>
<p>"That the great affairs of the world, the wars, revolutions,
etc., are carried on and effected by parties.</p>
<p>"That the view of these parties is their present general
interest, or what they take to be such.</p>
<p>"That the different views of these different parties occasion
all confusion.</p>
<p>"That while a party is carrying on a general design, each man
has his particular private interest in view.</p>
<p>"That as soon as a party has gain'd its general point, each
member becomes intent upon his particular interest; which,
thwarting others, breaks that party into divisions, and occasions
more confusion.</p>
<p>"That few in public affairs act from a mere view of the good of
their country, whatever they may pretend; and, tho' their actings
bring real good to their country, yet men primarily considered that
their own and their country's interest was united, and did not act
from a principle of benevolence.</p>
<p>"That fewer still, in public affairs, act with a view to the
good of mankind.</p>
<p>"There seems to me at present to be great occasion for raising a
United Party for Virtue, by forming the virtuous and good men of
all nations into a regular body, to be govern'd by suitable good
and wise rules, which good and wise men may probably be more
unanimous in their obedience to, than common people are to common
laws.</p>
<p>"I at present think that whoever attempts this aright, and is
well qualified, cannot fail of pleasing God, and of meeting with
success.</p>
<p class="right">B. F."</p>
<p>Revolving this project in my mind, as to be undertaken
hereafter, when my circumstances should afford me the necessary
leisure, I put down from time to time, on pieces of paper, such
thoughts as occurr'd to me respecting it. Most of these are lost;
but I find one purporting to be the substance of an intended creed,
containing, as I thought, the essentials of every known religion,
and being free of everything that might shock the professors of any
religion. It is express'd in these words, viz.:</p>
<p>"That there is one God, who made all things.</p>
<p>"That he governs the world by his providence.</p>
<p>"That he ought to be worshiped by adoration, prayer, and
thanksgiving.</p>
<p>"But that the most acceptable service of God is doing good to
man.</p>
<p>"That the soul is immortal.</p>
<p>"And that God will certainly reward virtue and punish vice,
either here or hereafter."</p>
<p>My ideas at that time were, that the sect should be begun and
spread at first among young and single men only; that each person
to be initiated should not only declare his assent to such creed,
but should have exercised himself with the thirteen weeks'
examination and practice of the virtues, as in the beforemention'd
model; that the existence of such a society should be kept a
secret, till it was become considerable, to prevent solicitations
for the admission of improper persons, but that the members should
each of them search among his acquaintance for ingenuous,
well-disposed youths, to whom, with prudent caution, the scheme
should be gradually communicated; that the members should engage to
afford their advice, assistance, and support to each other in
promoting one another's interests, business, and advancement in
life; that, for distinction, we should be call'd <i>The Society of
the Free and Easy</i>: free, as being, by the general practice and
habit of the virtues, free from the dominion of vice; and
particularly by the practice of industry and frugality, free from
debt, which exposes a man to confinement, and a species of slavery
to his creditors.</p>
<p>This is as much as I can now recollect of the project, except
that I communicated it in part to two young men, who adopted it
with some enthusiasm; but my then narrow circumstances, and the
necessity I was under of sticking close to my business, occasioned
my postponing the further prosecution of it at that time; and my
multifarious occupations, public and private, induc'd me to
continue postponing, so that it has been omitted till I have no
longer strength or activity left sufficient for such an enterprise;
though I am still of opinion that it was a practicable scheme, and
might have been very useful, by forming a great number of good
citizens; and I was not discourag'd by the seeming magnitude of the
undertaking, as I have always thought that one man of tolerable
abilities may work great changes, and accomplish great affairs
among mankind, if he first forms a good plan, and, cutting off all
amusements or other employments that would divert his attention,
makes the execution of that same plan his sole study and
business.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_66" id="Footnote_66" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></SPAN> Compare
Philippians iv, 8.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_67" id="Footnote_67" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></SPAN> A famous Greek
philosopher, who lived about 582-500 <span class="smcap">B.
C.</span> The <i>Golden Verses</i> here ascribed to him are
probably of later origin. "The time which he recommends for this
work is about even or bed-time, that we may conclude the action of
the day with the judgment of conscience, making the examination of
our conversation an evening song to God."</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_68" id="Footnote_68" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></SPAN> This "little
book" is dated July 1, 1733.—W. T. F.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_69" id="Footnote_69" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></SPAN> "O philosophy,
guide of life! O searcher out of virtue and exterminator of vice!
One day spent well and in accordance with thy precepts is worth an
immortality of sin."—<i>Tusculan Inquiries</i>, Book V.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_70" id="Footnote_70" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></SPAN> Professor
McMaster tells us that when Franklin was American Agent in France,
his lack of business order was a source of annoyance to his
colleagues and friends. "Strangers who came to see him were amazed
to behold papers of the greatest importance scattered in the most
careless way over the table and floor."</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_71" id="Footnote_71" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></SPAN> While there can
be no question that Franklin's moral improvement and happiness were
due to the practice of these virtues, yet most people will agree
that we shall have to go back of his plan for the impelling motive
to a virtuous life. Franklin's own suggestion that the scheme
smacks of "foppery in morals" seems justified. Woodrow Wilson well
puts it: "Men do not take fire from such thoughts, unless something
deeper, which is missing here, shine through them. What may have
seemed to the eighteenth century a system of morals seems to us
nothing more vital than a collection of the precepts of good sense
and sound conduct. What redeems it from pettiness in this book is
the scope of power and of usefulness to be seen in Franklin
himself, who set these standards up in all seriousness and candor
for his own life." See <i>Galatians</i>, chapter V, for the
Christian plan of moral perfection.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_72" id="Footnote_72" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></SPAN> Nothing so
likely to make a man's fortune as virtue.—<i>Marg.
note</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_73" id="Footnote_73" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></SPAN> This is a
marginal memorandum.—B.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="X" id="X" />X</h4>
<h4>POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC AND OTHER ACTIVITIES</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-i.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-I" />N 1732 I first publish'd my Almanack, under the name of
<i>Richard Saunders</i>; it was continu'd by me about twenty-five
years, commonly call'd <i>Poor Richard's Almanac</i>.<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_74" id="FNanchor_74" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</SPAN> I endeavour'd to make it both entertaining and
useful, and it accordingly came to be in such demand, that I reap'd
considerable profit from it, vending annually near ten thousand.
And observing that it was generally read, scarce any neighborhood
in the province being without it, I consider'd it as a proper
vehicle for conveying instruction among the common people, who
bought scarcely any other books; I therefore filled all the little
spaces that occurr'd between the remarkable days in the calendar
with proverbial sentences, chiefly such as inculcated industry and
frugality, as the means of procuring wealth, and thereby securing
virtue; it being more difficult for a man in want, to act always
honestly, as, to use here one of those proverbs, <i>it is hard for
an empty sack to stand upright</i>.</p>
<p>These proverbs, which contained the wisdom of many ages and
nations, I assembled and form'd into a connected discourse prefix'd
to the Almanack of 1757, as the harangue of a wise old man to the
people attending an auction. The bringing all these scatter'd
councils thus into a focus enabled them to make greater impression.
The piece, being universally approved, was copied in all the
newspapers of the Continent; reprinted in Britain on a broadside,
to be stuck up in houses; two translations were made of it in
French, and great numbers bought by the clergy and gentry, to
distribute gratis among their poor parishioners and tenants. In
Pennsylvania, as it discouraged useless expense in foreign
superfluities, some thought it had its share of influence in
producing that growing plenty of money which was observable for
several years after its publication.</p>
<div class="center_caption">Two pages from <i>Poor Richard's
Almanac</i> for 1736. Size of original. Reproduced from a copy at
the New York Public Library.<br/>
</div>
<table border="0" summary="Poor Richard's Almanac" cellpadding="0">
<tr>
<td class="cell_poor"><SPAN name="p171" id="p171" /> <SPAN href="images/209-june.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/209-junethumb.jpg" alt="June page from Poor Richard's Almanac for 1736" title=
"June page from Poor Richard's Almanac for 1736" /></SPAN> </td>
<td class="cell_poor"><SPAN href="images/210-july.jpg"><ANTIMG src=
"images/210-julythumb.jpg" alt="July page from Poor Richard's Almanac for 1736" title=
"July page from Poor Richard's Almanac for 1736" /></SPAN> </td>
</tr>
</table>
<p>I considered my newspaper, also, as another means of
communicating instruction, and in that view frequently reprinted in
it extracts from the Spectator, and other moral writers; and
sometimes publish'd little pieces of my own, which had been first
composed for reading in our Junto. Of these are a Socratic
dialogue, tending to prove that, whatever might be his parts and
abilities, a vicious man could not properly be called a man of
sense; and a discourse on self-denial, showing that virtue was not
secure till its practice became a habitude, and was free from the
opposition of contrary inclinations. These may be found in the
papers about the beginning of 1735.<SPAN name="FNanchor_75" id="FNanchor_75" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</SPAN></p>
<p>In the conduct of my newspaper, I carefully excluded all
libeling and personal abuse, which is of late years become so
disgraceful to our country. Whenever I was solicited to insert
anything of that kind, and the writers pleaded, as they generally
did, the liberty of the press, and that a newspaper was like a
stage-coach, in which anyone who would pay had a right to a place,
my answer was, that I would print the piece separately if desired,
and the author might have as many copies as he pleased to
distribute himself, but that I would not take upon me to spread his
detraction; and that, having contracted with my subscribers to
furnish them with what might be either useful or entertaining, I
could not fill their papers with private altercation, in which they
had no concern, without doing them manifest injustice. Now, many of
our printers make no scruple of gratifying the malice of
individuals by false accusations of the fairest characters among
ourselves, augmenting animosity even to the producing of duels; and
are, moreover, so indiscreet as to print scurrilous reflections on
the government of neighboring states, and even on the conduct of
our best national allies, which may be attended with the most
pernicious consequences. These things I mention as a caution to
young printers, and that they may be encouraged not to pollute
their presses and disgrace their profession by such infamous
practices, but refuse steadily, as they may see by my example that
such a course of conduct will not, on the whole, be injurious to
their interests.</p>
<p>In 1733 I sent one of my journeymen to Charleston, South
Carolina, where a printer was wanting. I furnish'd him with a press
and letters, on an agreement of partnership, by which I was to
receive one-third of the profits of the business, paying one-third
of the expense. He was a man of learning, and honest but ignorant
in matters of account; and, tho' he sometimes made me remittances,
I could get no account from him, nor any satisfactory state of our
partnership while he lived. On his decease, the business was
continued by his widow, who, being born and bred in Holland, where,
as I have been inform'd, the knowledge of accounts makes a part of
female education, she not only sent me as clear a state as she
could find of the transactions past, but continued to account with
the greatest regularity and exactness every quarter afterwards, and
managed the business with such success, that she not only brought
up reputably a family of children, but, at the expiration of the
term, was able to purchase of me the printing-house, and establish
her son in it.</p>
<p>I mention this affair chiefly for the sake of recommending that
branch of education for our young females, as likely to be of more
use to them and their children, in case of widowhood, than either
music or dancing, by preserving them from losses by imposition of
crafty men, and enabling them to continue, perhaps, a profitable
mercantile house, with establish'd correspondence, till a son is
grown up fit to undertake and go on with it, to the lasting
advantage and enriching of the family.</p>
<p>About the year 1734 there arrived among us from Ireland a young
Presbyterian preacher, named Hemphill, who delivered with a good
voice, and apparently extempore, most excellent discourses, which
drew together considerable numbers of different persuasions, who
join'd in admiring them. Among the rest, I became one of his
constant hearers, his sermons pleasing me, as they had little of
the dogmatical kind, but inculcated strongly the practice of
virtue, or what in the religious stile are called good works.
Those, however, of our congregation, who considered themselves as
orthodox Presbyterians, disapprov'd his doctrine, and were join'd
by most of the old clergy, who arraign'd him of heterodoxy before
the synod, in order to have him silenc'd. I became his zealous
partisan, and contributed all I could to raise a party in his
favour, and we combated for him awhile with some hopes of success.
There was much scribbling pro and con upon the occasion; and
finding that, tho' an elegant preacher, he was but a poor writer, I
lent him my pen and wrote for him two or three pamphlets, and one
piece in the Gazette of April, 1735. Those pamphlets, as is
generally the case with controversial writings, tho' eagerly read
at the time, were soon out of vogue, and I question whether a
single copy of them now exists.<SPAN name="FNanchor_76" id="FNanchor_76" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</SPAN></p>
<p>During the contest an unlucky occurrence hurt his cause
exceedingly. One of our adversaries having heard him preach a
sermon that was much admired, thought he had somewhere read the
sermon before, or at least a part of it. On search, he found that
part quoted at length, in one of the British Reviews, from a
discourse of Dr. Foster's.<SPAN name="FNanchor_77" id="FNanchor_77" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</SPAN>
This detection gave many of our party disgust, who accordingly
abandoned his cause, and occasion'd our more speedy discomfiture in
the synod. I stuck by him, however, as I rather approv'd his giving
us good sermons composed by others, than bad ones of his own
manufacture, tho' the latter was the practice of our common
teachers. He afterward acknowledg'd to me that none of those he
preach'd were his own; adding, that his memory was such as enabled
him to retain and repeat any sermon after one reading only. On our
defeat, he left us in search elsewhere of better fortune, and I
quitted the congregation, never joining it after, tho' I continu'd
many years my subscription for the support of its ministers.</p>
<p>I had begun in 1733 to study languages; I soon made myself so
much a master of the French as to be able to read the books with
ease. I then undertook the Italian. An acquaintance, who was also
learning it, us'd often to tempt me to play chess with him. Finding
this took up too much of the time I had to spare for study, I at
length refus'd to play any more, unless on this condition, that the
victor in every game should have a right to impose a task, either
in parts of the grammar to be got by heart, or in translations,
etc., which tasks the vanquish'd was to perform upon honour, before
our next meeting. As we play'd pretty equally, we thus beat one
another into that language. I afterwards with a little painstaking,
acquir'd as much of the Spanish as to read their books also.</p>
<p>I have already mention'd that I had only one year's instruction
in a Latin school, and that when very young, after which I
neglected that language entirely. But, when I had attained an
acquaintance with the French, Italian, and Spanish, I was surpris'd
to find, on looking over a Latin Testament, that I understood so
much more of that language than I had imagined, which encouraged me
to apply myself again to the study of it, and I met with more
success, as those preceding languages had greatly smooth'd my
way.</p>
<p>From these circumstances, I have thought that there is some
inconsistency in our common mode of teaching languages. We are told
that it is proper to begin first with the Latin, and, having
acquir'd that, it will be more easy to attain those modern
languages which are deriv'd from it; and yet we do not begin with
the Greek, in order more easily to acquire the Latin. It is true
that, if you can clamber and get to the top of a staircase without
using the steps, you will more easily gain them in descending; but
certainly, if you begin with the lowest you will with more ease
ascend to the top; and I would therefore offer it to the
consideration of those who superintend the education of our youth,
whether, since many of those who begin with the Latin quit the same
after spending some years without having made any great
proficiency, and what they have learnt becomes almost useless, so
that their time has been lost, it would not have been better to
have begun with the French, proceeding to the Italian, etc.; for,
tho', after spending the same time, they should quit the study of
languages and never arrive at the Latin, they would, however, have
acquired another tongue or two, that, being in modern use, might be
serviceable to them in common life.<SPAN name="FNanchor_78" id="FNanchor_78" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</SPAN></p>
<p>After ten years' absence from Boston, and having become easy in
my circumstances, I made a journey thither to visit my relations,
which I could not sooner well afford. In returning, I call'd at
Newport to see my brother, then settled there with his
printing-house. Our former differences were forgotten, and our
meeting was very cordial and affectionate. He was fast declining in
his health, and requested of me that, in case of his death, which
he apprehended not far distant, I would take home his son, then but
ten years of age, and bring him up to the printing business. This I
accordingly perform'd, sending him a few years to school before I
took him into the office. His mother carried on the business till
he was grown up, when I assisted him with an assortment of new
types, those of his father being in a manner worn out. Thus it was
that I made my brother ample amends for the service I had depriv'd
him of by leaving him so early.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="60%" src= "images/illus-021-red.jpg" alt="Our former differences were forgotten, and our meeting was very cordial and affectionate" title= "Our former differences were forgotten, and our meeting was very cordial and affectionate" /></div>
<p>In 1736 I lost one of my sons, a fine boy of four years old, by
the small-pox, taken in the common way. I long regretted bitterly,
and still regret that I had not given it to him by inoculation.
This I mention for the sake of parents who omit that operation, on
the supposition that they should never forgive themselves if a
child died under it; my example showing that the regret may be the
same either way, and that, therefore, the safer should be
chosen.</p>
<p>Our club, the Junto, was found so useful, and afforded such
satisfaction to the members, that several were desirous of
introducing their friends, which could not well be done without
exceeding what we had settled as a convenient number, viz., twelve.
We had from the beginning made it a rule to keep our institution a
secret, which was pretty well observ'd; the intention was to avoid
applications of improper persons for admittance, some of whom,
perhaps, we might find it difficult to refuse. I was one of those
who were against any addition to our number, but, instead of it,
made in writing a proposal, that every member separately should
endeavour to form a subordinate club, with the same rules
respecting queries, etc., and without informing them of the
connection with the Junto. The advantages proposed were, the
improvement of so many more young citizens by the use of our
institutions; our better acquaintance with the general sentiments
of the inhabitants on any occasion, as the Junto member might
propose what queries we should desire, and was to report to the
Junto what pass'd in his separate club; the promotion of our
particular interests in business by more extensive recommendation,
and the increase of our influence in public affairs, and our power
of doing good by spreading thro' the several clubs the sentiments
of the Junto.</p>
<p>The project was approv'd, and every member undertook to form his
club, but they did not all succeed. Five or six only were
compleated, which were called by different names, as the Vine, the
Union, the Band, etc. They were useful to themselves, and afforded
us a good deal of amusement, information, and instruction, besides
answering, in some considerable degree, our views of influencing
the public opinion on particular occasions, of which I shall give
some instances in course of time as they happened.</p>
<p>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 propos'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, besides
the pay for the immediate service as clerk, the place gave me a
better opportunity of keeping up an interest among the members,
which secur'd to me the business of printing the votes, laws, paper
money, and other occasional jobbs for the public, that, on the
whole, were very profitable.</p>
<p>I therefore did not like the opposition of this new member, who
was a gentleman of fortune and education, 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 paying 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 and curious book, I wrote a note to him,
expressing my desire of perusing that book, and requesting he would
do me the favour of lending it to me for a few days. He sent it
immediately, 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 before), and with
great civility; and he ever after manifested a readiness to serve
me on all occasions, so that we became great friends, and our
friendship continued to his death. This is another instance of the
truth of an old maxim I had learned, which says, <i>"He that has
once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you another, than
he whom you yourself have obliged."</i> And it shows how much more
profitable it is prudently to remove, than to resent, return, and
continue inimical proceedings.</p>
<p>In 1737, Colonel Spotswood, late governor of Virginia, and then
postmaster-general, being dissatisfied with the conduct of his
deputy at Philadelphia, respecting some negligence in rendering,
and inexactitude of his accounts, took from him the commission and
offered it to me. I accepted it readily, and found it of great
advantage; for, tho' the salary was small, it facilitated the
correspondence that improv'd my newspaper, increas'd the number
demanded, as well as the advertisements to be inserted, so that it
came to afford me a considerable income. My old competitor's
newspaper declin'd proportionately, and I was satisfy'd without
retaliating his refusal, while postmaster, to permit my papers
being carried by the riders. Thus he suffer'd greatly from his
neglect in due accounting; and I mention it as a lesson to those
young men who may be employ'd in managing affairs for others, that
they should always render accounts, and make remittances, with
great clearness and punctuality. The character of observing such a
conduct is the most powerful of all recommendations to new
employments and increase of business.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_74" id="Footnote_74" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></SPAN> The almanac at
that time was a kind of periodical as well as a guide to natural
phenomena and the weather. Franklin took his title from <i>Poor
Robin</i>, a famous English almanac, and from Richard Saunders, a
well-known almanac publisher. For the maxims of Poor Richard, see
pages <SPAN href="#THE_WAY_TO_WEALTH">331</SPAN>-335.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_75" id="Footnote_75" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></SPAN> June 23 and July
7, 1730.—Smyth.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_76" id="Footnote_76" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></SPAN> See "A List of
Books written by, or relating to Benjamin Franklin," by Paul
Leicester Ford. 1889. p. 15.—Smyth.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_77" id="Footnote_77" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></SPAN> Dr. James Foster
(1697-1753):—</p>
<div class="poem2">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="i2">"Let modest Foster, if he will excel</div>
<div class="i2">Ten metropolitans in preaching well."</div>
</div></div>
<p class="three">—Pope (Epilogue to the Satires, I, 132).</p>
<p>"Those who had not heard Farinelli sing and Foster preach were
not qualified to appear in genteel company," Hawkins. "History of
Music."—Smyth.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_78" id="Footnote_78" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></SPAN> "The authority
of Franklin, the most eminently practical man of his age, in favor
of reserving the study of the dead languages until the mind has
reached a certain maturity, is confirmed by the confession of one
of the most eminent scholars of any age.</p>
<p>"'Our seminaries of learning,' says Gibbon, 'do not exactly
correspond with the precept of a Spartan king, that the child
should be instructed in the arts which will be useful to the man;
since a finished scholar may emerge from the head of Westminster or
Eton, in total ignorance of the business and conversation of
English gentlemen in the latter end of the eighteenth century. But
these schools may assume the merit of teaching all that they
pretend to teach, the Latin and Greek
languages.'"—Bigelow.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XI" id="XI" />XI</h4>
<h4>INTEREST IN PUBLIC AFFAIRS</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-i.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-I" />BEGAN now to turn my thoughts a little to public
affairs, beginning, however, with small matters. The city watch was
one of the first things that I conceiv'd to want regulation. It was
managed by the constables of the respective wards in turn; the
constable warned a number of housekeepers to attend him for the
night. Those who chose never to attend, paid him six shillings a
year to be excus'd, which was suppos'd to be for hiring
substitutes, but was, in reality, much more than was necessary for
that purpose, and made the constableship a place of profit; and the
constable, for a little drink, often got such ragamuffins about him
as a watch, that respectable housekeepers did not choose to mix
with. Walking the rounds, too, was often neglected, and most of the
nights spent in tippling. I thereupon wrote a paper to be read in
Junto, representing these irregularities, but insisting more
particularly on the inequality of this six-shilling tax of the
constables, respecting the circumstances of those who paid it,
since a poor widow housekeeper, all whose property to be guarded by
the watch did not perhaps exceed the value of fifty pounds, paid as
much as the wealthiest merchant, who had thousands of pounds' worth
of goods in his stores.</p>
<p>On the whole, I proposed as a more effectual watch, the hiring
of proper men to serve constantly in that business; and as a more
equitable way of supporting the charge, the levying a tax that
should be proportion'd to the property. This idea, being approv'd
by the Junto, was communicated to the other clubs, but as arising
in each of them; and though the plan was not immediately carried
into execution, yet, by preparing the minds of people for the
change, it paved the way for the law obtained a few years after,
when the members of our clubs were grown into more influence.</p>
<p>About this time I wrote a paper (first to be read in Junto, but
it was afterward publish'd) on the different accidents and
carelessnesses by which houses were set on fire, with cautions
against them, and means proposed of avoiding them. This was much
spoken of as a useful piece, and gave rise to a project, which soon
followed it, of forming a company for the more ready extinguishing
of fires, and mutual assistance in removing and securing of goods
when in danger. Associates in this scheme were presently found,
amounting to thirty. Our articles of agreement oblig'd every member
to keep always in good order, and fit for use, a certain number of
leather buckets, with strong bags and baskets (for packing and
transporting of goods), which were to be brought to every fire; and
we agreed to meet once a month and spend a social evening together,
in discoursing and communicating such ideas as occurred to us upon
the subjects of fires, as might be useful in our conduct on such
occasions.</p>
<p>The utility of this institution soon appeared, and many more
desiring to be admitted than we thought convenient for one company,
they were advised to form another, which was accordingly done; and
this went on, one new company being formed after another, till they
became so numerous as to include most of the inhabitants who were
men of property; and now, at the time of my writing this, tho'
upward of fifty years since its establishment, that which I first
formed, called the Union Fire Company, still subsists and
flourishes, tho' the first members are all deceas'd but myself and
one, who is older by a year than I am. The small fines that have
been paid by members for absence at the monthly meetings have been
apply'd to the purchase of fire-engines, ladders, fire-hooks, and
other useful implements for each company, so that I question
whether there is a city in the world better provided with the means
of putting a stop to beginning conflagrations; and, in fact, since
these institutions, the city has never lost by fire more than one
or two houses at a time, and the flames have often been
extinguished before the house in which they began has been half
consumed.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="70%" src= "images/illus-022-red.jpg" alt="the flames have often been extinguished" title= "the flames have often been extinguished" /></div>
<p>In 1739 arrived among us from Ireland the Reverend Mr.
Whitefield,<SPAN name="FNanchor_79" id="FNanchor_79" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</SPAN> who had made himself
remarkable there as an itinerant preacher. He was at first
permitted to preach in some of our churches; but the clergy, taking
a dislike to him, soon refus'd him their pulpits, and he was
oblig'd to preach in the fields. The multitudes of all sects and
denominations that attended his sermons were enormous, and it was
matter of speculation to me, who was one of the number, to observe
the extraordinary influence of his oratory on his hearers, and how
much they admir'd and respected him, notwithstanding his common
abuse of them, by assuring them they were naturally <i>half beasts
and half devils</i>. It was wonderful to see the change soon made
in the manners of our inhabitants. From being thoughtless or
indifferent about religion, it seem'd as if all the world were
growing religious, so that one could not walk thro' the town in an
evening without hearing psalms sung in different families of every
street.</p>
<p>And it being found inconvenient to assemble in the open air,
subject to its inclemencies, the building of a house to meet in was
no sooner propos'd, and persons appointed to receive contributions,
but sufficient sums were soon receiv'd to procure the ground and
erect the building, which was one hundred feet long and seventy
broad, about the size of Westminster Hall;<SPAN name="FNanchor_80" id="FNanchor_80" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</SPAN>
and the work was carried on with such spirit as to be finished in a
much shorter time than could have been expected. Both house and
ground were vested in trustees, expressly for the use of any
preacher of any religious persuasion who might desire to say
something to the people at Philadelphia; the design in building not
being to accommodate any particular sect, but the inhabitants in
general; so that even if the Mufti of Constantinople were to send a
missionary to preach Mohammedanism to us, he would find a pulpit at
his service.</p>
<p>Mr. Whitefield, in leaving us, went preaching all the way thro'
the colonies to Georgia. The settlement of that province had lately
been begun, but, instead of being made with hardy, industrious
husbandmen, accustomed to labour, the only people fit for such an
enterprise, it was with families of broken shop-keepers and other
insolvent debtors, many of indolent and idle habits, taken out of
the jails, who, being set down in the woods, unqualified for
clearing land, and unable to endure the hardships of a new
settlement, perished in numbers, leaving many helpless children
unprovided for. The sight of their miserable situation inspir'd the
benevolent heart of Mr. Whitefield with the idea of building an
Orphan House there, in which they might be supported and educated.
Returning northward, he preach'd up this charity, and made large
collections, for his eloquence had a wonderful power over the
hearts and purses of his hearers, of which I myself was an
instance.</p>
<p>I did not disapprove of the design, but, as Georgia was then
destitute of materials and workmen, and it was proposed to send
them from Philadelphia at a great expense, I thought it would have
been better to have built the house here, and brought the children
to it. This I advis'd; but he was resolute in his first project,
rejected my counsel, and I therefore refus'd to contribute. I
happened soon after to attend one of his sermons, in the course of
which I perceived he intended to finish with a collection, and I
silently resolved he should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket
a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five
pistoles in gold. As he proceeded I began to soften, and concluded
to give the coppers. Another stroke of his oratory made me asham'd
of that, and determin'd me to give the silver; and he finish'd so
admirably, that I empty'd my pocket wholly into the collector's
dish, gold and all. At this sermon there was also one of our club,
who, being of my sentiments respecting the building in Georgia, and
suspecting a collection might be intended, had, by precaution,
emptied his pockets before he came from home. Towards the
conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong desire to
give, and apply'd to a neighbour who stood near him, to borrow some
money for the purpose. The application was unfortunately [made] to
perhaps the only man in the company who had the firmness not to be
affected by the preacher. His answer was, "<i>At any other time,
Friend Hopkinson, I would lend to thee freely; but not now, for
thee seems to be out of thy right senses.</i>"</p>
<p>Some of Mr. Whitefield's enemies affected to suppose that he
would apply these collections to his own private emolument; but I,
who was intimately acquainted with him (being employed in printing
his Sermons and Journals, etc.), never had the least suspicion of
his integrity, but am to this day decidedly of opinion that he was
in all his conduct a perfectly <i>honest man</i>; and methinks my
testimony in his favour ought to have the more weight, as we had no
religious connection. He us'd, indeed, sometimes to pray for my
conversion, but never had the satisfaction of believing that his
prayers were heard. Ours was a mere civil friendship, sincere on
both sides, and lasted to his death.</p>
<p>The following instance will show something of the terms on which
we stood. Upon one of his arrivals from England at Boston, he wrote
to me that he should come soon to Philadelphia, but knew not where
he could lodge when there, as he understood his old friend and
host, Mr. Benezet was removed to Germantown. My answer was, "You
know my house; if you can make shift with its scanty
accommodations, you will be most heartily welcome." He reply'd,
that if I made that kind offer for Christ's sake, I should not miss
of a reward. And I returned, "<i>Don't let me be mistaken; it was
not for Christ's sake, but for your sake.</i>" One of our common
acquaintance jocosely remark'd, that, knowing it to be the custom
of the saints, when they received any favour, to shift the burden
of the obligation from off their own shoulders, and place it in
heaven, I had contriv'd to fix it on earth.</p>
<p>The last time I saw Mr. Whitefield was in London, when he
consulted me about his Orphan House concern, and his purpose of
appropriating it to the establishment of a college.</p>
<p>He had a loud and clear voice, and articulated his words and
sentences so perfectly, that he might be heard and understood at a
great distance, especially as his auditories, however numerous,
observ'd the most exact silence. He preach'd one evening from the
top of the Courthouse steps, which are in the middle of
Market-street, and on the west side of Second-street, which crosses
it at right angles. Both streets were fill'd with his hearers to a
considerable distance. Being among the hindmost in Market-street, I
had the curiosity to learn how far he could be heard, by retiring
backwards down the street towards the river; and I found his voice
distinct till I came near Front-street, when some noise in that
street obscur'd it. Imagining then a semicircle, of which my
distance should be the radius, and that it were fill'd with
auditors, to each of whom I allow'd two square feet, I computed
that he might well be heard by more than thirty thousand. This
reconcil'd me to the newspaper accounts of his having preach'd to
twenty-five thousand people in the fields, and to the ancient
histories of generals haranguing whole armies, of which I had
sometimes doubted.</p>
<p>By hearing him often, I came to distinguish easily between
sermons newly compos'd, and those which he had often preach'd in
the course of his travels. His delivery of the latter was so
improv'd by frequent repetitions that every accent, every emphasis,
every modulation of voice, was so perfectly well turn'd and well
plac'd, that, without being interested in the subject, one could
not help being pleas'd with the discourse; a pleasure of much the
same kind with that receiv'd from an excellent piece of musick.
This is an advantage itinerant preachers have over those who are
stationary, as the latter cannot well improve their delivery of a
sermon by so many rehearsals.</p>
<p>His writing and printing from time to time gave great advantage
to his enemies; unguarded expressions, and even erroneous opinions,
delivered in preaching, might have been afterwards explain'd or
qualifi'd by supposing others that might have accompani'd them, or
they might have been deny'd; but <i>litera scripta manet</i>.
Critics attack'd his writings violently, and with so much
appearance of reason as to diminish the number of his votaries and
prevent their increase; so that I am of opinion if he had never
written anything, he would have left behind him a much more
numerous and important sect, and his reputation might in that case
have been still growing, even after his death, as there being
nothing of his writing on which to found a censure and give him a
lower character, his proselytes would be left at liberty to feign
for him as great a variety of excellences as their enthusiastic
admiration might wish him to have possessed.</p>
<p>My business was now continually augmenting, and my circumstances
growing daily easier, my newspaper having become very profitable,
as being for a time almost the only one in this and the
neighbouring provinces. I experienced, too, the truth of the
observation, "<i>that after getting the first hundred pound, it is
more easy to get the second</i>," money itself being of a prolific
nature.</p>
<p>The partnership at Carolina having succeeded, I was encourag'd
to engage in others, and to promote several of my workmen, who had
behaved well, by establishing them with printing-houses in
different colonies, on the same terms with that in Carolina. Most
of them did well, being enabled at the end of our term, six years,
to purchase the types of me and go on working for themselves, by
which means several families were raised. Partnerships often finish
in quarrels; but I was happy in this, that mine were all carried on
and ended amicably, owing, I think, a good deal to the precaution
of having very explicitly settled, in our articles, everything to
be done by or expected from each partner, so that there was nothing
to dispute, which precaution I would therefore recommend to all who
enter into partnerships; for, whatever esteem partners may have
for, and confidence in each other at the time of the contract,
little jealousies and disgusts may arise, with ideas of inequality
in the care and burden of the business, etc., which are attended
often with breach of friendship and of the connection, perhaps with
lawsuits and other disagreeable consequences.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_79" id="Footnote_79" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></SPAN> George
Whitefield, pronounced Hwit'field (1714-1770), a celebrated English
clergyman and pulpit orator, one of the founders of Methodism.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_80" id="Footnote_80" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></SPAN> A part of the
palace of Westminster, now forming the vestibule to the Houses of
Parliament in London.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XII" id="XII" />XII</h4>
<h4>DEFENSE OF THE PROVINCE</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-i.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-I" />HAD, on the whole, abundant reason to be satisfied with
my being established in Pennsylvania. There were, however, two,
things that I regretted, there being no provision for defense, nor
for a compleat education of youth; no militia, nor any college. I
therefore, in 1743, drew up a proposal for establishing an academy;
and at that time, thinking the Reverend Mr. Peters, who was out of
employ, a fit person to superintend such an institution, I
communicated the project to him; but he, having more profitable
views in the service of the proprietaries, which succeeded,
declin'd the undertaking; and, not knowing another at that time
suitable for such a trust, I let the scheme lie awhile dormant. I
succeeded better the next year, 1744, in proposing and establishing
a Philosophical Society. The paper I wrote for that purpose will be
found among my writings, when collected.</p>
<p>With respect to defense, Spain having been several years at war
against Great Britain, and being at length join'd by France, which
brought us into great danger; and the laboured and long-continued
endeavour of our governor, Thomas, to prevail with our Quaker
Assembly to pass a militia law, and make other provisions for the
security of the province, having proved abortive, I determined to
try what might be done by a voluntary association of the people. To
promote this, I first wrote and published a pamphlet, entitled
<span class="smcap">Plain Truth</span>, in which I stated our
defenceless situation in strong lights, with the necessity of union
and discipline for our defense, and promis'd to propose in a few
days an association, to be generally signed for that purpose. The
pamphlet had a sudden and surprising effect. I was call'd upon for
the instrument of association, and having settled the draft of it
with a few friends, I appointed a meeting of the citizens in the
large building before mentioned. The house was pretty full; I had
prepared a number of printed copies, and provided pens and ink
dispers'd all over the room. I harangued them a little on the
subject, read the paper, and explained it, and then distributed the
copies, which were eagerly signed, not the least objection being
made.</p>
<p>When the company separated, and the papers were collected, we
found above twelve hundred hands; and, other copies being dispersed
in the country, the subscribers amounted at length to upward of ten
thousand. These all furnished themselves as soon as they could with
arms, formed themselves into companies and regiments, chose their
own officers, and met every week to be instructed in the manual
exercise, and other parts of military discipline. The women, by
subscriptions among themselves, provided silk colours, which they
presented to the companies, painted with different devices and
mottos, which I supplied.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="50%" src= "images/illus-023-red.jpg" alt="One of the flags of the Pennsylvania Association, 1747. Designed by Franklin and made by the women of Philadelphia." title= "One of the flags of the Pennsylvania Association, 1747. Designed by Franklin and made by the women of Philadelphia." /></div>
<div class="center_caption">One of the flags of the Pennsylvania
Association, 1747. Designed by Franklin and made by the women of
Philadelphia.</div>
<p>The officers of the companies composing the Philadelphia
regiment, being met, chose me for their colonel; but, conceiving
myself unfit, I declin'd that station, and recommended Mr.
Lawrence, a fine person, and man of influence, who was accordingly
appointed. I then propos'd a lottery to defray the expense of
building a battery below the town, and furnishing it with cannon.
It filled expeditiously, and the battery was soon erected, the
merlons being fram'd of logs and fill'd with earth. We bought some
old cannon from Boston, but, these not being sufficient, we wrote
to England for more, soliciting, at the same time, our
proprietaries for some assistance, tho' without much expectation of
obtaining it.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Colonel Lawrence, William Allen, Abram Taylor, Esqr.,
and myself were sent to New York by the associators, commission'd
to borrow some cannon of Governor Clinton. He at first refus'd us
peremptorily; but at dinner with his council, where there was great
drinking of Madeira wine, as the custom of that place then was, he
softened by degrees, and said he would lend us six. After a few
more bumpers he advanc'd to ten; and at length he very
good-naturedly conceded eighteen. They were fine cannon,
eighteen-pounders, with their carriages, which we soon transported
and mounted on our battery, where the associators kept a nightly
guard while the war lasted, and among the rest I regularly took my
turn of duty there as a common soldier.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p204" id="p204" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-024-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-024thumb.jpg" alt="I regularly took my turn of duty there as a common soldier" title= "I regularly took my turn of duty there as a common soldier" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"I regularly took my turn of duty there
as a common soldier"</div>
<p>My activity in these operations was agreeable to the governor
and council; they took me into confidence, and I was consulted by
them in every measure wherein their concurrence was thought useful
to the association. Calling in the aid of religion, I propos'd to
them the proclaiming a fast, to promote reformation, and implore
the blessing of Heaven on our undertaking. They embrac'd the
motion; but, as it was the first fast ever thought of in the
province, the secretary had no precedent from which to draw the
proclamation. My education in New England, where a fast is
proclaimed every year, was here of some advantage: I drew it in the
accustomed stile, it was translated into German,<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_81" id="FNanchor_81" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</SPAN> printed in both languages, and divulg'd thro'
the province. This gave the clergy of the different sects an
opportunity of influencing their congregations to join in the
association, and it would probably have been general among all but
Quakers if the peace had not soon interven'd.</p>
<p>It was thought by some of my friends that, by my activity in
these affairs, I should offend that sect, and thereby lose my
interest in the Assembly of the province, where they formed a great
majority. A young gentleman who had likewise some friends in the
House, and wished to succeed me as their clerk, acquainted me that
it was decided to displace me at the next election; and he,
therefore, in good will, advis'd me to resign, as more consistent
with my honour than being turn'd out. My answer to him was, that I
had read or heard of some public man who made it a rule never to
ask for an office, and never to refuse one when offer'd to him. "I
approve," says I, "of his rule, and will practice it with a small
addition; I shall never <i>ask</i>, never <i>refuse</i>, nor ever
<i>resign</i> an office. If they will have my office of clerk to
dispose of to another, they shall take it from me. I will not, by
giving it up, lose my right of some time or other making reprisals
on my adversaries." I heard, however, no more of this; I was chosen
again unanimously as usual at the next election. Possibly, as they
dislik'd my late intimacy with the members of council, who had
join'd the governors in all the disputes about military
preparations, with which the House had long been harass'd, they
might have been pleas'd if I would voluntarily have left them; but
they did not care to displace me on account merely of my zeal for
the association, and they could not well give another reason.</p>
<p>Indeed I had some cause to believe that the defense of the
country was not disagreeable to any of them, provided they were not
requir'd to assist in it. And I found that a much greater number of
them than I could have imagined, tho' against offensive war, were
clearly for the defensive. Many pamphlets <i>pro and con</i> were
publish'd on the subject, and some by good Quakers, in favour of
defense, which I believe convinc'd most of their younger
people.</p>
<p>A transaction in our fire company gave me some insight into
their prevailing sentiments. It had been propos'd that we should
encourage the scheme for building a battery by laying out the
present stock, then about sixty pounds, in tickets of the lottery.
By our rules, no money could be dispos'd of till the next meeting
after the proposal. The company consisted of thirty members, of
which twenty-two were Quakers, and eight only of other persuasions.
We eight punctually attended the meeting; but, tho' we thought that
some of the Quakers would join us, we were by no means sure of a
majority. Only one Quaker, Mr. James Morris, appear'd to oppose the
measure. He expressed much sorrow that it had ever been propos'd,
as he said <i>Friends</i> were all against it, and it would create
such discord as might break up the company. We told him that we saw
no reason for that; we were the minority, and if <i>Friends</i>
were against the measure, and outvoted us, we must and should,
agreeably to the usage of all societies, submit. When the hour for
business arriv'd it was mov'd to put the vote; he allow'd we might
then do it by the rules, but, as he could assure us that a number
of members intended to be present for the purpose of opposing it,
it would be but candid to allow a little time for their
appearing.</p>
<p>While we were disputing this, a waiter came to tell me two
gentlemen below desir'd to speak with me. I went down, and found
they were two of our Quaker members. They told me there were eight
of them assembled at a tavern just by; that they were determin'd to
come and vote with us if there should be occasion, which they hop'd
would not be the case, and desir'd we would not call for their
assistance if we could do without it, as their voting for such a
measure might embroil them with their elders and friends. Being
thus secure of a majority, I went up, and after a little seeming
hesitation, agreed to a delay of another hour. This Mr. Morris
allow'd to be extreamly fair. Not one of his opposing friends
appear'd, at which he express'd great surprize; and, at the
expiration of the hour, we carri'd the resolution eight to one; and
as, of the twenty-two Quakers, eight were ready to vote with us,
and thirteen, by their absence, manifested that they were not
inclin'd to oppose the measure, I afterward estimated the
proportion of Quakers sincerely against defense as one to
twenty-one only; for these were all regular members of that
society, and in good reputation among them, and had due notice of
what was propos'd at that meeting.</p>
<p>The honorable and learned Mr. Logan, who had always been of that
sect, was one who wrote an address to them, declaring his
approbation of defensive war, and supporting his opinion by many
strong arguments. He put into my hands sixty pounds to be laid out
in lottery tickets for the battery, with directions to apply what
prizes might be drawn wholly to that service. He told me the
following anecdote of his old master, William Penn, respecting
defense. He came over from England, when a young man, with that
proprietary, and as his secretary. It was war-time, and their ship
was chas'd by an armed vessel, suppos'd to be an enemy. Their
captain prepar'd for defense; but told William Penn, and his
company of Quakers, that he did not expect their assistance, and
they might retire into the cabin, which they did, except James
Logan,<SPAN name="FNanchor_82" id="FNanchor_82" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</SPAN> who chose to stay upon
deck, and was quarter'd to a gun. The suppos'd enemy prov'd a
friend, so there was no fighting; but when the secretary went down
to communicate the intelligence, William Penn rebuk'd him severely
for staying upon deck, and undertaking to assist in defending the
vessel, contrary to the principles of <i>Friends</i>, especially as
it had not been required by the captain. This reproof, being before
all the company, piqu'd the secretary, who answer'd, <i>"I being
thy servant, why did thee not order me to come down? But thee was
willing enough that I should stay and help to fight the ship when
thee thought there was danger."</i></p>
<p>My being many years in the Assembly, the majority of which were
constantly Quakers, gave me frequent opportunities of seeing the
embarrassment given them by their principle against war, whenever
application was made to them, by order of the crown, to grant aids
for military purposes. They were unwilling to offend government, on
the one hand, by a direct refusal; and their friends, the body of
the Quakers, on the other, by compliance contrary to their
principles; hence a variety of evasions to avoid complying, and
modes of disguising the compliance when it became unavoidable. The
common mode at last was, to grant money under the phrase of its
being "<i>for the king's use</i>," and never to inquire how it was
applied.</p>
<p>But, if the demand was not directly from the crown, that phrase
was found not so proper, and some other was to be invented. As,
when powder was wanting (I think it was for the garrison at
Louisburg), and the government of New England solicited a grant of
some from Pennsylvania, which was much urg'd on the House by
Governor Thomas, they could not grant money to buy powder, because
that was an ingredient of war; but they voted an aid to New England
of three thousand pounds, to be put into the hands of the governor,
and appropriated it for the purchasing of bread, flour, wheat or
<i>other grain</i>. Some of the council, desirous of giving the
House still further embarrassment, advis'd the governor not to
accept provision, as not being the thing he had demanded; but he
repli'd, "I shall take the money, for I understand very well their
meaning; other grain is gunpowder," which he accordingly bought,
and they never objected to it.<SPAN name="FNanchor_83" id="FNanchor_83" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</SPAN></p>
<p>It was in allusion to this fact that, when in our fire company
we feared the success of our proposal in favour of the lottery, and
I had said to my friend Mr. Syng, one of our members, "If we fail,
let us move the purchase of a fire-engine with the money; the
Quakers can have no objection to that; and then, if you nominate me
and I you as a committee for that purpose, we will buy a great gun,
which is certainly a <i>fire-engine</i>." "I see," says he, "you
have improv'd by being so long in the Assembly; your equivocal
project would be just a match for their wheat or <i>other
grain</i>."</p>
<p>These embarrassments that the Quakers suffer'd from having
establish'd and published it as one of their principles that no
kind of war was lawful, and which, being once published, they could
not afterwards, however they might change their minds, easily get
rid of, reminds me of what I think a more prudent conduct in
another sect among us, that of the Dunkers. I was acquainted with
one of its founders, Michael Welfare, soon after it appear'd. He
complain'd to me that they were grievously calumniated by the
zealots of other persuasions, and charg'd with abominable
principles and practices to which they were utter strangers. I told
him this had always been the case with new sects, and that, to put
a stop to such abuse, I imagin'd it might be well to publish the
articles of their belief, and the rules of their discipline. He
said that it had been propos'd among them, but not agreed to, for
this reason: "When we were first drawn together as a society," says
he, "it had pleased God to enlighten our minds so far as to see
that some doctrines, which we once esteemed truths, were errors;
and that others, which we had esteemed errors, were real truths.
>From time to time He has been pleased to afford us farther light,
and our principles have been improving, and our errors diminishing.
Now we are not sure that we are arrived at the end of this
progression, and at the perfection of spiritual or theological
knowledge; and we fear that, if we should once print our confession
of faith, we should feel ourselves as if bound and confin'd by it,
and perhaps be unwilling to receive further improvement, and our
successors still more so, as conceiving what we their elders and
founders had done, to be something sacred, never to be departed
from."</p>
<p>This modesty in a sect is perhaps a singular instance in the
history of mankind, every other sect supposing itself in possession
of all truth, and that those who differ are so far in the wrong;
like a man traveling in foggy weather, those at some distance
before him on the road he sees wrapped up in the fog, as well as
those behind him, and also the people in the fields on each side,
but near him all appears clear, tho' in truth he is as much in the
fog as any of them. To avoid this kind of embarrassment, the
Quakers have of late years been gradually declining the public
service in the Assembly and in the magistracy, choosing rather to
quit their power than their principle.</p>
<p>In order of time, I should have mentioned before, that having,
in 1742, invented an open stove<SPAN name="FNanchor_84" id="FNanchor_84" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</SPAN>
for the better warming of rooms, and at the same time saving fuel,
as the fresh air admitted was warmed in entering, I made a present
of the model to Mr. Robert Grace, one of my early friends, who,
having an iron-furnace,<SPAN name="FNanchor_85" id="FNanchor_85" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</SPAN> found the casting of
the plates for these stoves a profitable thing, as they were
growing in demand. To promote that demand, I wrote and published a
pamphlet, entitled "<i>An Account of the new-invented Pennsylvania
Fireplaces; wherein their Construction and Manner of Operation is
particularly explained; their Advantages above every other Method
of warming Rooms demonstrated; and all Objections that have been
raised against the Use of them answered and obviated</i>," etc.
This pamphlet had a good effect. Gov'r. Thomas was so pleas'd with
the construction of this stove, as described in it, that he offered
to give me a patent for the sole vending of them for a term of
years; but I declin'd it from a principle which has ever weighed
with me on such occasions, viz., <i>That, as we enjoy great
advantages from the inventions of others, we should be glad of an
opportunity to serve others by any invention of ours; and this we
should do freely and generously.</i></p>
<p>An ironmonger in London however, assuming a good deal of my
pamphlet, and working it up into his own, and making some small
changes in the machine, which rather hurt its operation, got a
patent for it there, and made, as I was told, a little fortune by
it. And this is not the only instance of patents taken out for my
inventions by others, tho' not always with the same success, which
I never contested, as having no desire of profiting by patents
myself, and hating disputes. The use of these fireplaces in very
many houses, both of this and the neighbouring colonies, has been,
and is, a great saving of wood to the inhabitants.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_81" id="Footnote_81" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></SPAN> Wm. Penn's
agents sought recruits for the colony of Pennsylvania in the low
countries of Germany, and there are still in eastern Pennsylvania
many Germans, inaccurately called Pennsylvania Dutch. Many of them
use a Germanized English.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_82" id="Footnote_82" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></SPAN> James Logan
(1674-1751) came to America with William Penn in 1699, and was the
business agent for the Penn family. He bequeathed his valuable
library, preserved at his country seat, "Senton," to the city of
Philadelphia.—Smyth.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_83" id="Footnote_83" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></SPAN> See the
votes.—<i>Marg. note</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_84" id="Footnote_84" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></SPAN> The Franklin
stove is still in use.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_85" id="Footnote_85" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></SPAN> Warwick Furnace,
Chester County, Pennsylvania, across the Schuylkill River from
Pottstown.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XIII" id="XIII" />XIII</h4>
<div class="center_medium1"><b>PUBLIC SERVICES AND DUTIES</b></div>
<div class="center_medium1"><b>(1749-1753)</b></div>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-p.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-P" />EACE being concluded, and the association business
therefore at an end, I turn'd my thoughts again to the affair of
establishing an academy. The first step I took was to associate in
the design a number of active friends, of whom the Junto furnished
a good part; the next was to write and publish a pamphlet, entitled
<i>Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth in
Pennsylvania</i>. This I distributed among the principal
inhabitants gratis; and as soon as I could suppose their minds a
little prepared by the perusal of it, I set on foot a subscription
for opening and supporting an academy; it was to be paid in quotas
yearly for five years; by so dividing it, I judg'd the subscription
might be larger, and I believe it was so, amounting to no less, if
I remember right, than five thousand pounds.</p>
<p>In the introduction to these proposals, I stated their
publication, not as an act of mine, but of some <i>publick-spirited
gentlemen</i>, avoiding as much as I could, according to my usual
rule, the presenting myself to the publick as the author of any
scheme for their benefit.</p>
<p>The subscribers, to carry the project into immediate execution,
chose out of their number twenty-four trustees, and appointed Mr.
Francis,<SPAN name="FNanchor_86" id="FNanchor_86" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</SPAN> then attorney-general, and
myself to draw up constitutions for the government of the academy;
which being done and signed, a house was hired, masters engag'd,
and the schools opened, I think, in the same year, 1749.</p>
<p>The scholars increasing fast, the house was soon found too
small, and we were looking out for a piece of ground, properly
situated, with intention to build, when Providence threw into our
way a large house ready built, which, with a few alterations, might
well serve our purpose. This was the building before mentioned,
erected by the hearers of Mr. Whitefield, and was obtained for us
in the following manner.</p>
<p>It is to be noted that the contributions to this building being
made by people of different sects, care was taken in the nomination
of trustees, in whom the building and ground was to be vested, that
a predominancy should not be given to any sect, lest in time that
predominancy might be a means of appropriating the whole to the use
of such sect, contrary to the original intention. It was therefore
that one of each sect was appointed, viz., one Church-of-England
man, one Presbyterian, one Baptist, one Moravian, etc., those, in
case of vacancy by death, were to fill it by election from among
the contributors. The Moravian happen'd not to please his
colleagues, and on his death they resolved to have no other of that
sect. The difficulty then was, how to avoid having two of some
other sect, by means of the new choice.</p>
<p>Several persons were named, and for that reason not agreed to.
At length one mention'd me, with the observation that I was merely
an honest man, and of no sect at all, which prevailed with them to
chuse me. The enthusiasm which existed when the house was built had
long since abat'd, and its trustees had not been able to procure
fresh contributions for paying the ground-rent, and discharging
some other debts the building had occasion'd, which embarrass'd
them greatly. Being now a member of both sets of trustees, that for
the building and that for the academy, I had a good opportunity of
negotiating with both, and brought them finally to an agreement, by
which the trustees for the building were to cede it to those of the
academy, the latter undertaking to discharge the debt, to keep
forever open in the building a large hall for occasional preachers,
according to the original intention, and maintain a free-school for
the instruction of poor children. Writings were accordingly drawn,
and on paying the debts the trustees of the academy were put in
possession of the premises; and by dividing the great and lofty
hall into stories, and different rooms above and below for the
several schools, and purchasing some additional ground, the whole
was soon made fit for our purpose, and the scholars remov'd into
the building. The care and trouble of agreeing with the workmen,
purchasing materials, and superintending the work, fell upon me;
and I went thro' it the more cheerfully, as it did not then
interfere with my private business, having the year before taken a
very able, industrious, and honest partner, Mr. David Hall, with
whose character I was well acquainted, as he had work'd for me four
years. He took off my hands all care of the printing-office, paying
me punctually my share of the profits. The partnership continued
eighteen years, successfully for us both.</p>
<p>The trustees of the academy, after a while, were incorporated by
a charter from the governor; their funds were increas'd by
contributions in Britain and grants of land from the proprietaries,
to which the Assembly has since made considerable addition; and
thus was established the present University of Philadelphia.<SPAN name="FNanchor_87" id="FNanchor_87" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</SPAN> I have been continued one of its trustees from
the beginning, now near forty years, and have had the very great
pleasure of seeing a number of the youth who have receiv'd their
education in it, distinguish'd by their improv'd abilities,
serviceable in public stations, and ornaments to their country.</p>
<p>When I disengaged myself, as above mentioned, from private
business, I flatter'd myself that, by the sufficient tho' moderate
fortune I had acquir'd, I had secured leisure during the rest of my
life for philosophical studies and amusements. I purchased all Dr.
Spence's apparatus, who had come from England to lecture here, and
I proceeded in my electrical experiments with great alacrity; but
the publick, now considering me as a man of leisure, laid hold of
me for their purposes, every part of our civil government, and
almost at the same time, imposing some duty upon me. The governor
put me into the commission of the peace; the corporation of the
city chose me of the common council, and soon after an alderman;
and the citizens at large chose me a burgess to represent them in
Assembly. This latter station was the more agreeable to me, as I
was at length tired with sitting there to hear debates, in which,
as clerk, I could take no part, and which were often so
unentertaining that I was induc'd to amuse myself with making magic
squares or circles, or anything to avoid weariness; and I conceiv'd
my becoming a member would enlarge my power of doing good. I would
not, however, insinuate that my ambition was not flatter'd by all
these promotions; it certainly was; for, considering my low
beginning, they were great things to me; and they were still more
pleasing, as being so many spontaneous testimonies of the public
good opinion, and by me entirely unsolicited.</p>
<p>The office of justice of the peace I try'd a little, by
attending a few courts, and sitting on the bench to hear causes;
but finding that more knowledge of the common law than I possess'd
was necessary to act in that station with credit, I gradually
withdrew from it, excusing myself by my being oblig'd to attend the
higher duties of a legislator in the Assembly. My election to this
trust was repeated every year for ten years, without my ever asking
any elector for his vote, or signifying, either directly or
indirectly, any desire of being chosen. On taking my seat in the
House, my son was appointed their clerk.</p>
<p>The year following, a treaty being to be held with the Indians
at Carlisle, the governor sent a message to the House, proposing
that they should nominate some of their members, to be join'd with
some members of council, as commissioners for that purpose.<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_88" id="FNanchor_88" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</SPAN> The House named the speaker (Mr. Norris) and
myself; and, being commission'd, we went to Carlisle, and met the
Indians accordingly.</p>
<p>As those people are extreamly apt to get drunk, and, when so,
are very quarrelsome and disorderly, we strictly forbad the selling
any liquor to them; and when they complain'd of this restriction,
we told them that if they would continue sober during the treaty,
we would give them plenty of rum when business was over. They
promis'd this, and they kept their promise, because they could get
no liquor, and the treaty was conducted very orderly, and concluded
to mutual satisfaction. They then claim'd and received the rum;
this was in the afternoon: they were near one hundred men, women,
and children, and were lodg'd in temporary cabins, built in the
form of a square, just without the town. In the evening, hearing a
great noise among them, the commissioners walk'd out to see what
was the matter. We found they had made a great bonfire in the
middle of the square; they were all drunk, men and women,
quarreling and fighting. Their dark-colour'd bodies, half naked,
seen only by the gloomy light of the bonfire, running after and
beating one another with firebrands, accompanied by their horrid
yellings, form'd a scene the most resembling our ideas of hell that
could well be imagin'd; there was no appeasing the tumult, and we
retired to our lodging. At midnight a number of them came
thundering at our door, demanding more rum, of which we took no
notice.</p>
<p>The next day, sensible they had misbehav'd in giving us that
disturbance, they sent three of their old counselors to make their
apology. The orator acknowledg'd the fault, but laid it upon the
rum; and then endeavoured to excuse the rum by saying, "<i>The
Great Spirit, who made all things, made everything for some use,
and whatever use he design'd anything for, that use it should
always be put to. Now, when he made rum, he said, 'Let this be for
the Indians to get drunk with,' and it must be so.</i>" And,
indeed, if it be the design of Providence to extirpate these
savages in order to make room for cultivators of the earth, it
seems not improbable that rum may be the appointed means. It has
already annihilated all the tribes who formerly inhabited the
sea-coast.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p224" id="p224" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-025-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-025thumb.jpg" alt="In the evening, hearing a great noise among them, the commissioners walk'd out to see what was the matter" title= "In the evening, hearing a great noise among them, the commissioners walk'd out to see what was the matter" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"In the evening, hearing a great noise
among them, the commissioners walk'd out to see what was the
matter"</div>
<p>In 1751, Dr. Thomas Bond, a particular friend of mine, conceived
the idea of establishing a hospital in Philadelphia (a very
beneficent design, which has been ascrib'd to me, but was
originally his), for the reception and cure of poor sick persons,
whether inhabitants of the province or strangers. He was zealous
and active in endeavouring to procure subscriptions for it, but the
proposal being a novelty in America, and at first not well
understood, he met but with small success.</p>
<p>At length he came to me with the compliment that he found there
was no such thing as carrying a public-spirited project through
without my being concern'd in it. "For," says he, "I am often ask'd
by those to whom I propose subscribing, Have you consulted Franklin
upon this business? And what does he think of it? And when I tell
them that I have not (supposing it rather out of your line), they
do not subscribe, but say they will consider of it." I enquired
into the nature and probable utility of his scheme, and receiving
from him a very satisfactory explanation, I not only subscrib'd to
it myself, but engag'd heartily in the design of procuring
subscriptions from others. Previously, however, to the
solicitation, I endeavoured to prepare the minds of the people by
writing on the subject in the newspapers, which was my usual custom
in such cases, but which he had omitted.</p>
<p>The subscriptions afterwards were more free and generous; but,
beginning to flag, I saw they would be insufficient without some
assistance from the Assembly, and therefore propos'd to petition
for it, which was done. The country members did not at first relish
the project; they objected that it could only be serviceable to the
city, and therefore the citizens alone should be at the expense of
it; and they doubted whether the citizens themselves generally
approv'd of it. My allegation on the contrary, that it met with
such approbation as to leave no doubt of our being able to raise
two thousand pounds by voluntary donations, they considered as a
most extravagant supposition, and utterly impossible.</p>
<p>On this I form'd my plan; and, asking leave to bring in a bill
for incorporating the contributors according to the prayer of their
petition, and granting them a blank sum of money, which leave was
obtained chiefly on the consideration that the House could throw
the bill out if they did not like it, I drew it so as to make the
important clause a conditional one, viz., "And be it enacted, by
the authority aforesaid, that when the said contributors shall have
met and chosen their managers and treasurer, <i>and shall have
raised by their contributions a capital stock
of——value</i> (the yearly interest of which is to be
applied to the accommodating of the sick poor in the said hospital,
free of charge for diet, attendance, advice, and medicines), <i>and
shall make the same appear to the satisfaction of the speaker of
the Assembly for the time being</i>, that <i>then</i> it shall and
may be lawful for the said speaker, and he is hereby required, to
sign an order on the provincial treasurer for the payment of two
thousand pounds, in two yearly payments, to the treasurer of the
said hospital, to be applied to the founding, building, and
finishing of the same."</p>
<p>This condition carried the bill through; for the members, who
had oppos'd the grant, and now conceiv'd they might have the credit
of being charitable without the expense, agreed to its passage; and
then, in soliciting subscriptions among the people, we urg'd the
conditional promise of the law as an additional motive to give,
since every man's donation would be doubled; thus the clause work'd
both ways. The subscriptions accordingly soon exceeded the
requisite sum, and we claim'd and receiv'd the public gift, which
enabled us to carry the design into execution. A convenient and
handsome building was soon erected; the institution has by constant
experience been found useful, and flourishes to this day; and I do
not remember any of my political manoeuvers, the success of which
gave me at the time more pleasure, or wherein, after thinking of
it, I more easily excus'd myself for having made some use of
cunning.</p>
<p>It was about this time that another projector, the Rev. Gilbert
Tennent<SPAN name="FNanchor_89" id="FNanchor_89" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</SPAN>, came to me with a request
that I would assist him in procuring a subscription for erecting a
new meeting-house. It was to be for the use of a congregation he
had gathered among the Presbyterians, who were originally disciples
of Mr. Whitefield. Unwilling to make myself disagreeable to my
fellow-citizens by too frequently soliciting their contributions, I
absolutely refus'd. He then desired I would furnish him with a list
of the names of persons I knew by experience to be generous and
public-spirited. I thought it would be unbecoming in me, after
their kind compliance with my solicitations, to mark them out to be
worried by other beggars, and therefore refus'd also to give such a
list. He then desir'd I would at least give him my advice. "That I
will readily do," said I; "and, in the first place, I advise you to
apply to all those whom you know will give something; next, to
those whom you are uncertain whether they will give anything or
not, and show them the list of those who have given; and, lastly,
do not neglect those who you are sure will give nothing, for in
some of them you may be mistaken." He laugh'd and thank'd me, and
said he would take my advice. He did so, for he ask'd of
<i>everybody</i>, and he obtain'd a much larger sum than he
expected, with which he erected the capacious and very elegant
meeting-house that stands in Arch-street.</p>
<p>Our city, tho' laid out with a beautiful regularity, the streets
large, straight, and crossing each other at right angles, had the
disgrace of suffering those streets to remain long unpav'd, and in
wet weather the wheels of heavy carriages plough'd them into a
quagmire, so that it was difficult to cross them; and in dry
weather the dust was offensive. I had liv'd near what was call'd
the Jersey Market, and saw with pain the inhabitants wading in mud
while purchasing their provisions. A strip of ground down the
middle of that market was at length pav'd with brick, so that,
being once in the market, they had firm footing, but were often
over shoes in dirt to get there. By talking and writing on the
subject, I was at length instrumental in getting the street pav'd
with stone between the market and the brick'd foot-pavement, that
was on each side next the houses. This, for some time, gave an easy
access to the market dry-shod; but, the rest of the street not
being pav'd, whenever a carriage came out of the mud upon this
pavement, it shook off and left its dirt upon it, and it was soon
cover'd with mire, which was not remov'd, the city as yet having no
scavengers.</p>
<p>After some inquiry, I found a poor, industrious man, who was
willing to undertake keeping the pavement clean, by sweeping it
twice a week, carrying off the dirt from before all the neighbours'
doors, for the sum of sixpence per month, to be paid by each house.
I then wrote and printed a paper setting forth the advantages to
the neighbourhood that might be obtain'd by this small expense; the
greater ease in keeping our houses clean, so much dirt not being
brought in by people's feet; the benefit to the shops by more
custom, etc., etc., as buyers could more easily get at them; and by
not having, in windy weather, the dust blown in upon their goods,
etc., etc. I sent one of these papers to each house, and in a day
or two went round to see who would subscribe an agreement to pay
these sixpences; it was unanimously sign'd, and for a time well
executed. All the inhabitants of the city were delighted with the
cleanliness of the pavement that surrounded the market, it being a
convenience to all, and this rais'd a general desire to have all
the streets paved, and made the people more willing to submit to a
tax for that purpose.</p>
<p>After some time I drew a bill for paving the city, and brought
it into the Assembly. It was just before I went to England, in
1757, and did not pass till I was gone,<SPAN name="FNanchor_90" id="FNanchor_90" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</SPAN>
and then with an alteration in the mode of assessment, which I
thought not for the better, but with an additional provision for
lighting as well as paving the streets, which was a great
improvement. It was by a private person, the late Mr. John Clifton,
his giving a sample of the utility of lamps, by placing one at his
door, that the people were first impress'd with the idea of
enlighting all the city. The honour of this public benefit has also
been ascrib'd to me, but it belongs truly to that gentleman. I did
but follow his example, and have only some merit to claim
respecting the form of our lamps, as differing from the globe lamps
we were at first supply'd with from London. Those we found
inconvenient in these respects: they admitted no air below; the
smoke, therefore, did not readily go out above, but circulated in
the globe, lodg'd on its inside, and soon obstructed the light they
were intended to afford; giving, besides, the daily trouble of
wiping them clean; and an accidental stroke on one of them would
demolish it, and render it totally useless. I therefore suggested
the composing them of four flat panes, with a long funnel above to
draw up the smoke, and crevices admitting air below, to facilitate
the ascent of the smoke; by this means they were kept clean, and
did not grow dark in a few hours, as the London lamps do, but
continu'd bright till morning, and an accidental stroke would
generally break but a single pane, easily repair'd.</p>
<p>I have sometimes wonder'd that the Londoners did not, from the
effect holes in the bottom of the globe lamps us'd at Vauxhall<SPAN name="FNanchor_91" id="FNanchor_91" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</SPAN> have in keeping them clean, learn to have such
holes in their street lamps. But, these holes being made for
another purpose, viz., to communicate flame more suddenly to the
wick by a little flax hanging down thro' them, the other use, of
letting in air, seems not to have been thought of; and therefore,
after the lamps have been lit a few hours, the streets of London
are very poorly illuminated.</p>
<p>The mention of these improvements puts me in mind of one I
propos'd, when in London, to Dr. Fothergill, who was among the best
men I have known, and a great promoter of useful projects. I had
observ'd that the streets, when dry, were never swept, and the
light dust carried away; but it was suffer'd to accumulate till wet
weather reduc'd it to mud, and then, after lying some days so deep
on the pavement that there was no crossing but in paths kept clean
by poor people with brooms, it was with great labour rak'd together
and thrown up into carts open above, the sides of which suffered
some of the slush at every jolt on the pavement to shake out and
fall, sometimes to the annoyance of foot-passengers. The reason
given for not sweeping the dusty streets was that the dust would
fly into the windows of shops and houses.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="60%" src= "images/illus-026-red.jpg" alt="a poor woman sweeping my pavement with a birch broom" title= "a poor woman sweeping my pavement with a birch broom" /></div>
<p>An accidental occurrence had instructed me how much sweeping
might be done in a little time. I found at my door in
Craven-street,<SPAN name="FNanchor_92" id="FNanchor_92" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</SPAN> one morning, a poor woman
sweeping my pavement with a birch broom; she appeared very pale and
feeble, as just come out of a fit of sickness. I ask'd who employ'd
her to sweep there; she said, "Nobody, but I am very poor and in
distress, and I sweeps before gentle-folkses doors, and hopes they
will give me something." I bid her sweep the whole street clean,
and I would give her a shilling; this was at nine o'clock; at 12
she came for the shilling. From the slowness I saw at first in her
working, I could scarce believe that the work was done so soon, and
sent my servant to examine it, who reported that the whole street
was swept perfectly clean, and all the dust plac'd in the gutter,
which was in the middle; and the next rain wash'd it quite away, so
that the pavement and even the kennel were perfectly clean.</p>
<p>I then judg'd that, if that feeble woman could sweep such a
street in three hours, a strong, active man might have done it in
half the time. And here let me remark the convenience of having but
one gutter in such a narrow street, running down its middle,
instead of two, one on each side, near the footway; for where all
the rain that falls on a street runs from the sides and meets in
the middle, it forms there a current strong enough to wash away all
the mud it meets with; but when divided into two channels, it is
often too weak to cleanse either, and only makes the mud it finds
more fluid, so that the wheels of carriages and feet of horses
throw and dash it upon the foot-pavement, which is thereby rendered
foul and slippery, and sometimes splash it upon those who are
walking. My proposal, communicated to the good doctor, was as
follows:</p>
<p>"For the more effectual cleaning and keeping clean the streets
of London and Westminster, it is proposed that the several watchmen
be contracted with to have the dust swept up in dry seasons, and
the mud rak'd up at other times, each in the several streets and
lanes of his round; that they be furnish'd with brooms and other
proper instruments for these purposes, to be kept at their
respective stands, ready to furnish the poor people they may employ
in the service.</p>
<p>"That in the dry summer months the dust be all swept up into
heaps at proper distances, before the shops and windows of houses
are usually opened, when the scavengers, with close-covered carts,
shall also carry it all away.</p>
<p>"That the mud, when rak'd up, be not left in heaps to be spread
abroad again by the wheels of carriages and trampling of horses,
but that the scavengers be provided with bodies of carts, not
plac'd high upon wheels, but low upon sliders, with lattice
bottoms, which, being cover'd with straw, will retain the mud
thrown into them, and permit the water to drain from it, whereby it
will become much lighter, water making the greatest part of its
weight; these bodies of carts to be plac'd at convenient distances,
and the mud brought to them in wheelbarrows; they remaining where
plac'd till the mud is drain'd, and then horses brought to draw
them away."</p>
<p>I have since had doubts of the practicability of the latter part
of this proposal, on account of the narrowness of some streets, and
the difficulty of placing the draining-sleds so as not to encumber
too much the passage; but I am still of opinion that the former,
requiring the dust to be swept up and carry'd away before the shops
are open, is very practicable in the summer, when the days are
long; for, in walking thro' the Strand and Fleet-street one morning
at seven o'clock, I observ'd there was not one shop open, tho' it
had been daylight and the sun up above three hours; the inhabitants
of London chusing voluntarily to live much by candle-light, and
sleep by sunshine, and yet often complain, a little absurdly, of
the duty on candles, and the high price of tallow.</p>
<p>Some may think these trifling matters not worth minding or
relating; but when they consider that tho' dust blown into the eyes
of a single person, or into a single shop on a windy day, is but of
small importance, yet the great number of the instances in a
populous city, and its frequent repetitions give it weight and
consequence, perhaps they will not censure very severely those who
bestow some attention to affairs of this seemingly low nature.
Human felicity is produced not so much by great pieces of good
fortune that seldom happen, as by little advantages that occur
every day. Thus, if you teach a poor young man to shave himself,
and keep his razor in order, you may contribute more to the
happiness of his life than in giving him a thousand guineas. The
money may be soon spent, the regret only remaining of having
foolishly consumed it; but in the other case, he escapes the
frequent vexation of waiting for barbers, and of their sometimes
dirty fingers, offensive breaths, and dull razors; he shaves when
most convenient to him, and enjoys daily the pleasure of its being
done with a good instrument. With these sentiments I have hazarded
the few preceding pages, hoping they may afford hints which some
time or other may be useful to a city I love, having lived many
years in it very happily, and perhaps to some of our towns in
America.</p>
<p>Having been for some time employed by the postmaster-general of
America as his comptroller in regulating several offices, and
bringing the officers to account, I was, upon his death in 1753,
appointed, jointly with Mr. William Hunter, to succeed him, by a
commission from the postmaster-general in England. The American
office never had hitherto paid anything to that of Britain. We were
to have six hundred pounds a year between us, if we could make that
sum out of the profits of the office. To do this, a variety of
improvements were necessary; some of these were inevitably at first
expensive, so that in the first four years the office became above
nine hundred pounds in debt to us. But it soon after began to repay
us; and before I was displac'd by a freak of the ministers, of
which I shall speak hereafter, we had brought it to yield <i>three
times</i> as much clear revenue to the crown as the post-office of
Ireland. Since that imprudent transaction, they have receiv'd from
it—not one farthing!</p>
<p>The business of the post-office occasion'd my taking a journey
this year to New England, where the College of Cambridge, of their
own motion, presented me with the degree of Master of Arts. Yale
College, in Connecticut, had before made me a similar compliment.
Thus, without studying in any college, I came to partake of their
honours. They were conferr'd in consideration of my improvements
and discoveries in the electric branch of natural philosophy.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_86" id="Footnote_86" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></SPAN> Tench Francis,
uncle of Sir Philip Francis, emigrated from England to Maryland,
and became attorney for Lord Baltimore. He removed to Philadelphia
and was attorney-general of Pennsylvania from 1741 to 1755. He died
in Philadelphia August 16, 1758.—Smyth.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_87" id="Footnote_87" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></SPAN> Later called the
University of Pennsylvania.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_88" id="Footnote_88" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></SPAN> See the votes to
have this more correctly.—<i>Marg. note.</i></p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_89" id="Footnote_89" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></SPAN> Gilbert Tennent
(1703-1764) came to America with his father, Rev. William Tennent,
and taught for a time in the "Log College," from which sprang the
College of New Jersey.—Smyth.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_90" id="Footnote_90" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></SPAN> See votes.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_91" id="Footnote_91" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></SPAN> Vauxhall
Gardens, once a popular and fashionable London resort, situated on
the Thames above Lambeth. The Gardens were closed in 1859, but they
will always be remembered because of Sir Roger de Coverley's visit
to them in the <i>Spectator</i> and from the descriptions in
Smollett's <i>Humphry Clinker</i> and Thackeray's <i>Vanity
Fair</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_92" id="Footnote_92" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></SPAN> A short street
near Charing Cross, London.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XIV" id="XIV" />XIV</h4>
<h4>ALBANY PLAN OF UNION</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-i.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-I" />N 1754, war with France being again apprehended, a
congress of commissioners from the different colonies was, by an
order of the Lords of Trade, to be assembled at Albany, there to
confer with the chiefs of the Six Nations concerning the means of
defending both their country and ours. Governor Hamilton, having
receiv'd this order, acquainted the House with it, requesting they
would furnish proper presents for the Indians, to be given on this
occasion; and naming the speaker (Mr. Norris) and myself to join
Mr. Thomas Penn and Mr. Secretary Peters as commissioners to act
for Pennsylvania. The House approv'd the nomination, and provided
the goods for the present, and tho' they did not much like treating
out of the provinces; and we met the other commissioners at Albany
about the middle of June.</p>
<p>In our way thither, I projected and drew a plan for the union of
all the colonies under one government, so far as might be necessary
for defense, and other important general purposes. As we pass'd
thro' New York, I had there shown my project to Mr. James Alexander
and Mr. Kennedy, two gentlemen of great knowledge in public
affairs, and, being fortified by their approbation, I ventur'd to
lay it before the Congress. It then appeared that several of the
commissioners had form'd plans of the same kind. A previous
question was first taken, whether a union should be established,
which pass'd in the affirmative unanimously. A committee was then
appointed, one member from each colony, to consider the several
plans and report. Mine happen'd to be preferr'd, and, with a few
amendments, was accordingly reported.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="50%" src= "images/illus-027-red.jpg" alt="JOIN or DIE." title= "JOIN or DIE." /></div>
<p>By this plan the general government was to be administered by a
president-general, appointed and supported by the crown, and a
grand council was to be chosen by the representatives of the people
of the several colonies, met in their respective assemblies. The
debates upon it in Congress went on daily, hand in hand with the
Indian business. Many objections and difficulties were started, but
at length they were all overcome, and the plan was unanimously
agreed to, and copies ordered to be transmitted to the Board of
Trade and to the assemblies of the several provinces. Its fate was
singular; the assemblies did not adopt it, as they all thought
there was too much <i>prerogative</i> in it, and in England it was
judg'd to have too much of the <i>democratic</i>. The Board of
Trade therefore did not approve of it, nor recommend it for the
approbation of his majesty; but another scheme was form'd, supposed
to answer the same purpose better, whereby the governors of the
provinces, with some members of their respective councils, were to
meet and order the raising of troops, building of forts, etc., and
to draw on the treasury of Great Britain for the expense, which was
afterwards to be refunded by an act of Parliament laying a tax on
America. My plan, with my reasons in support of it, is to be found
among my political papers that are printed.</p>
<p>Being the winter following in Boston, I had much conversation
with Governor Shirley upon both the plans. Part of what passed
between us on the occasion may also be seen among those papers. The
different and contrary reasons of dislike to my plan makes me
suspect that it was really the true medium; and I am still of
opinion it would have been happy for both sides the water if it had
been adopted. The colonies, so united, would have been sufficiently
strong to have defended themselves; there would then have been no
need of troops from England; of course, the subsequent pretence for
taxing America, and the bloody contest it occasioned, would have
been avoided. But such mistakes are not new; history is full of the
errors of states and princes.</p>
<p>"Look round the habitable world, how few<br/>
<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Know their own good, or, knowing
it, pursue!"</span><br/></p>
<p>Those who govern, having much business on their hands, do not
generally like to take the trouble of considering and carrying into
execution new projects. The best public measures are therefore
seldom <i>adopted from previous wisdom, but forc'd by the
occasion</i>.</p>
<p>The Governor of Pennsylvania, in sending it down to the
Assembly, expressed his approbation of the plan, "as appearing to
him to be drawn up with great clearness and strength of judgment,
and therefore recommended it as well worthy of their closest and
most serious attention." The House, however, by the management of a
certain member, took it up when I happen'd to be absent, which I
thought not very fair, and reprobated it without paying any
attention to it at all, to my no small mortification.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XV" id="XV" />XV</h4>
<h4>QUARRELS WITH THE PROPRIETARY GOVERNORS</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-i.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-I" />N my journey to Boston this year, I met at New York
with our new governor, Mr. Morris, just arriv'd there from England,
with whom I had been before intimately acquainted. He brought a
commission to supersede Mr. Hamilton, who, tir'd with the disputes
his proprietary instructions subjected him to, had resign'd. Mr.
Morris ask'd me if I thought he must expect as uncomfortable an
administration. I said, "No; you may, on the contrary, have a very
comfortable one, if you will only take care not to enter into any
dispute with the Assembly." "My dear friend," says he, pleasantly,
"how can you advise my avoiding disputes? You know I love
disputing; it is one of my greatest pleasures; however, to show the
regard I have for your counsel, I promise you I will, if possible,
avoid them." He had some reason for loving to dispute, being
eloquent, an acute sophister, and, therefore, generally successful
in argumentative conversation. He had been brought up to it from a
boy, his father, as I have heard, accustoming his children to
dispute with one another for his diversion, while sitting at table
after dinner; but I think the practice was not wise; for, in the
course of my observation, these disputing, contradicting, and
confuting people are generally unfortunate in their affairs. They
get victory sometimes, but they never get good will, which would be
of more use to them. We parted, he going to Philadelphia, and I to
Boston.</p>
<p>In returning, I met at New York with the votes of the Assembly,
by which it appear'd that, notwithstanding his promise to me, he
and the House were already in high contention; and it was a
continual battle between them as long as he retain'd the
government. I had my share of it; for, as soon as I got back to my
seat in the Assembly, I was put on every committee for answering
his speeches and messages, and by the committees always desired to
make the drafts. Our answers, as well as his messages, were often
tart, and sometimes indecently abusive; and, as he knew I wrote for
the Assembly, one might have imagined that, when we met, we could
hardly avoid cutting throats; but he was so good-natur'd a man that
no personal difference between him and me was occasion'd by the
contest, and we often din'd together.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="50%" src= "images/illus-028-red.jpg" alt="One afternoon, in the height of this public quarrel, we met in the street" title= "One afternoon, in the height of this public quarrel, we met in the street" /></div>
<p>One afternoon, in the height of this public quarrel, we met in
the street. "Franklin," says he, "you must go home with me and
spend the evening; I am to have some company that you will like;"
and, taking me by the arm, he led me to his house. In gay
conversation over our wine, after supper, he told us, jokingly,
that he much admir'd the idea of Sancho Panza,<SPAN name="FNanchor_93" id="FNanchor_93" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</SPAN>
who, when it was proposed to give him a government, requested it
might be a government of <i>blacks</i>, as then, if he could not
agree with his people, he might sell them. One of his friends, who
sat next to me, says, "Franklin, why do you continue to side with
these damn'd Quakers? Had not you better sell them? The proprietor
would give you a good price." "The governor," says I, "has not yet
<i>blacked</i> them enough." He, indeed, had laboured hard to
blacken the Assembly in all his messages, but they wip'd off his
colouring as fast as he laid it on, and plac'd it, in return, thick
upon his own face; so that, finding he was likely to be negrofied
himself, he, as well as Mr. Hamilton, grew tir'd of the contest,
and quitted the government.</p>
<p>These public quarrels<SPAN name="FNanchor_94" id="FNanchor_94" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</SPAN> were all at bottom
owing to the proprietaries, our hereditary governors, who, when any
expense was to be incurred for the defense of their province, with
incredible meanness instructed their deputies to pass no act for
levying the necessary taxes, unless their vast estates were in the
same act expressly excused; and they had even taken bonds of these
deputies to observe such instructions. The Assemblies for three
years held out against this injustice, tho' constrained to bend at
last. At length Captain Denny, who was Governor Morris's successor,
ventured to disobey those instructions; how that was brought about
I shall show hereafter.</p>
<p>But I am got forward too fast with my story: there are still
some transactions to be mention'd that happened during the
administration of Governor Morris.</p>
<p>War being in a manner commenced with France, the government of
Massachusetts Bay projected an attack upon Crown Point,<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_95" id="FNanchor_95" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</SPAN> and sent Mr. Quincy to Pennsylvania, and Mr.
Pownall, afterward Governor Pownall, to New York, to solicit
assistance. As I was in the Assembly, knew its temper, and was Mr.
Quincy's countryman, he appli'd to me for my influence and
assistance. I dictated his address to them, which was well
received. They voted an aid of ten thousand pounds, to be laid out
in provisions. But the governor refusing his assent to their bill
(which included this with other sums granted for the use of the
crown), unless a clause were inserted exempting the proprietary
estate from bearing any part of the tax that would be necessary,
the Assembly, tho' very desirous of making their grant to New
England effectual, were at a loss how to accomplish it. Mr. Quincy
labored hard with the governor to obtain his assent, but he was
obstinate.</p>
<p>I then suggested a method of doing the business without the
governor, by orders on the trustees of the Loan office, which, by
law, the Assembly had the right of drawing. There was, indeed,
little or no money at that time in the office, and therefore I
propos'd that the orders should be payable in a year, and to bear
an interest of five per cent. With these orders I suppos'd the
provisions might easily be purchas'd. The Assembly, with very
little hesitation, adopted the proposal. The orders were
immediately printed, and I was one of the committee directed to
sign and dispose of them. The fund for paying them was the interest
of all the paper currency then extant in the province upon loan,
together with the revenue arising from the excise, which being
known to be more than sufficient, they obtain'd instant credit, and
were not only receiv'd in payment for the provisions, but many
money'd people, who had cash lying by them, vested it in those
orders, which they found advantageous, as they bore interest while
upon hand, and might on any occasion be used as money; so that they
were eagerly all bought up, and in a few weeks none of them were to
be seen. Thus this important affair was by my means completed. Mr.
Quincy return'd thanks to the Assembly in a handsome memorial, went
home highly pleas'd with this success of his embassy, and ever
after bore for me the most cordial and affectionate friendship.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_93" id="Footnote_93" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></SPAN> The "round,
selfish, and self-important" squire of Don Quixote in Cervantes'
romance of that name.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_94" id="Footnote_94" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></SPAN> My acts in
Morris's time, military, etc.—<i>Marg. note</i>.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_95" id="Footnote_95" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></SPAN> On Lake
Champlain, ninety miles north of Albany. It was captured by the
French in 1731, attacked by the English in 1755 and 1756, and
abandoned by the French in 1759. It was finally captured from the
English by the Americans in 1775.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XVI" id="XVI" />XVI</h4>
<h4>BRADDOCK'S EXPEDITION</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-t.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-T" />HE British government, not chusing to permit the union
of the colonies as propos'd at Albany, and to trust that union with
their defense, lest they should thereby grow too military, and feel
their own strength, suspicions and jealousies at this time being
entertain'd of them, sent over General Braddock with two regiments
of regular English troops for that purpose. He landed at
Alexandria, in Virginia, and thence march'd to Frederictown, in
Maryland, where he halted for carriages. Our Assembly apprehending,
from some information, that he had conceived violent prejudices
against them, as averse to the service, wish'd me to wait upon him,
not as from them, but as postmaster-general, under the guise of
proposing to settle with him the mode of conducting with most
celerity and certainty the despatches between him and the governors
of the several provinces, with whom he must necessarily have
continual correspondence, and of which they propos'd to pay the
expense. My son accompanied me on this journey.</p>
<p>We found the general at Frederictown, waiting impatiently for
the return of those he had sent thro' the back parts of Maryland
and Virginia to collect waggons. I stayed with him several days,
din'd with him daily, and had full opportunity of removing all his
prejudices, by the information of what the Assembly had before his
arrival actually done, and were still willing to do, to facilitate
his operations. When I was about to depart, the returns of waggons
to be obtained were brought in, by which it appear'd that they
amounted only to twenty-five, and not all of those were in
serviceable condition. The general and all the officers were
surpris'd, declar'd the expedition was then at an end, being
impossible, and exclaim'd against the ministers for ignorantly
landing them in a country destitute of the means of conveying their
stores, baggage, etc., not less than one hundred and fifty waggons
being necessary.</p>
<p>I happen'd to say I thought it was pity they had not been landed
rather in Pennsylvania, as in that country almost every farmer had
his waggon. The general eagerly laid hold of my words, and said,
"Then you, sir, who are a man of interest there, can probably
procure them for us; and I beg you will undertake it." I ask'd what
terms were to be offer'd the owners of the waggons, and I was
desir'd to put on paper the terms that appeared to me necessary.
This I did, and they were agreed to, and a commission and
instructions accordingly prepar'd immediately. What those terms
were will appear in the advertisement I publish'd as soon as I
arriv'd at Lancaster, which being, from the great and sudden effect
it produc'd, a piece of some curiosity, I shall insert it at
length, as follows:</p>
<div class="center">"<span class="smcap">Advertisement</span>.</div>
<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Lancaster</span>,
<i>April</i> 26, 1755.</p>
<p>"Whereas, one hundred and fifty waggons, with four horses to
each waggon, and fifteen hundred saddle or pack horses, are wanted
for the service of his majesty's forces now about to rendezvous at
Will's Creek, and his excellency General Braddock having been
pleased to empower me to contract for the hire of the same, I
hereby give notice that I shall attend for that purpose at
Lancaster from this day to next Wednesday evening, and at York from
next Thursday morning till Friday evening, where I shall be ready
to agree for waggons and teams, or single horses, on the following
terms, viz.: 1. That there shall be paid for each waggon, with four
good horses and a driver, fifteen shillings per diem; and for each
able horse with a pack-saddle, or other saddle and furniture, two
shillings per diem; and for each able horse without a saddle,
eighteen pence per diem. 2. That the pay commence from the time of
their joining the forces at Will's Creek, which must be on or
before the 20th of May ensuing, and that a reasonable allowance be
paid over and above for the time necessary for their travelling to
Will's Creek and home again after their discharge. 3. Each waggon
and team, and every saddle or pack horse, is to be valued by
indifferent persons chosen between me and the owner; and in case of
the loss of any waggon, team, or other horse in the service, the
price according to such valuation is to be allowed and paid. 4.
Seven days' pay is to be advanced and paid in hand by me to the
owner of each waggon and team, or horse, at the time of
contracting, if required, and the remainder to be paid by General
Braddock, or by the paymaster of the army, at the time of their
discharge, or from time to time, as it shall be demanded. 5. No
drivers of waggons, or persons taking care of the hired horses, are
on any account to be called upon to do the duty of soldiers, or be
otherwise employed than in conducting or taking care of their
carriages or horses. 6. All oats, Indian corn, or other forage that
waggons or horses bring to the camp, more than is necessary for the
subsistence of the horses, is to be taken for the use of the army,
and a reasonable price paid for the same.</p>
<p>"Note.—My son, William Franklin, is empowered to enter
into like contracts with any person in Cumberland county.</p>
<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">B. Franklin</span>."</p>
<div class="center_caption"><i>"To the inhabitants of the Counties
of Lancaster, York, and Cumberland.</i></div>
<p>"Friends and Countrymen,</p>
<p>"Being occasionally<SPAN name="FNanchor_96" id="FNanchor_96" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</SPAN> at the camp at
Frederic a few days since, I found the general and officers
extremely exasperated on account of their not being supplied with
horses and carriages, which had been expected from this province,
as most able to furnish them; but, through the dissensions between
our governor and Assembly, money had not been provided, nor any
steps taken for that purpose.</p>
<p>"It was proposed to send an armed force immediately into these
counties, to seize as many of the best carriages and horses as
should be wanted, and compel as many persons into the service as
would be necessary to drive and take care of them.</p>
<p>"I apprehended that the progress of British soldiers through
these counties on such an occasion, especially considering the
temper they are in, and their resentment against us, would be
attended with many and great inconveniences to the inhabitants, and
therefore more willingly took the trouble of trying first what
might be done by fair and equitable means. The people of these back
counties have lately complained to the Assembly that a sufficient
currency was wanting; you have an opportunity of receiving and
dividing among you a very considerable sum; for, if the service of
this expedition should continue, as it is more than probable it
will, for one hundred and twenty days, the hire of these waggons
and horses will amount to upward of thirty thousand pounds, which
will be paid you in silver and gold of the king's money.</p>
<p>"The service will be light and easy, for the army will scarce
march above twelve miles per day, and the waggons and
baggage-horses, as they carry those things that are absolutely
necessary to the welfare of the army, must march with the army, and
no faster; and are, for the army's sake, always placed where they
can be most secure, whether in a march or in a camp.</p>
<p>"If you are really, as I believe you are, good and loyal
subjects to his majesty, you may now do a most acceptable service,
and make it easy to yourselves; for three or four of such as cannot
separately spare from the business of their plantations a waggon
and four horses and a driver, may do it together, one furnishing
the waggon, another one or two horses, and another the driver, and
divide the pay proportionately between you; but if you do not this
service to your king and country voluntarily, when such good pay
and reasonable terms are offered to you, your loyalty will be
strongly suspected. The king's business must be done; so many brave
troops, come so far for your defense, must not stand idle through
your backwardness to do what may be reasonably expected from you;
waggons and horses must be had; violent measures will probably be
used, and you will be left to seek for a recompense where you can
find it, and your case, perhaps, be little pitied or regarded.</p>
<p>"I have no particular interest in this affair, as, except the
satisfaction of endeavouring to do good, I shall have only my
labour for my pains. If this method of obtaining the waggons and
horses is not likely to succeed, I am obliged to send word to the
general in fourteen days; and I suppose Sir John St. Clair, the
hussar, with a body of soldiers, will immediately enter the
province for the purpose, which I shall be sorry to hear, because I
am very sincerely and truly your friend and well-wisher,</p>
<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">B. Franklin</span>."</p>
<p>I received of the general about eight hundred pounds, to be
disbursed in advance-money to the waggon owners, etc.; but that sum
being insufficient, I advanc'd upward of two hundred pounds more,
and in two weeks the one hundred and fifty waggons, with two
hundred and fifty-nine carrying horses, were on their march for the
camp. The advertisement promised payment according to the
valuation, in case any waggon or horse should be lost. The owners,
however, alleging they did not know General Braddock, or what
dependence might be had on his promise, insisted on my bond for the
performance, which I accordingly gave them.</p>
<p>While I was at the camp, supping one evening with the officers
of Colonel Dunbar's regiment, he represented to me his concern for
the subalterns, who, he said, were generally not in affluence, and
could ill afford, in this dear country, to lay in the stores that
might be necessary in so long a march, thro' a wilderness, where
nothing was to be purchas'd. I commiserated their case, and
resolved to endeavour procuring them some relief. I said nothing,
however, to him of my intention, but wrote the next morning to the
committee of the Assembly, who had the disposition of some public
money, warmly recommending the case of these officers to their
consideration, and proposing that a present should be sent them of
necessaries and refreshments. My son, who had some experience of a
camp life, and of its wants, drew up a list for me, which I
enclos'd in my letter. The committee approv'd, and used such
diligence that, conducted by my son, the stores arrived at the camp
as soon as the waggons. They consisted of twenty parcels, each
containing</p>
<table width="100%" summary="Food_stuff" border="0" cellpadding="5"
cellspacing="2">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">6 lbs. loaf sugar.</td>
<td class="cell_si">1 Gloucester cheese.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">6 lbs. good Muscovado do.</td>
<td class="cell_si">1 kegg containing 20 lbs. good butter.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">1 lb. good green tea.</td>
<td class="cell_si">2 doz. old Madeira wine.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">1 lb. good bohea do.</td>
<td class="cell_si">2 gallons Jamaica spirits.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">6 lbs. good ground coffee.</td>
<td class="cell_si">1 bottle flour of mustard.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">6 lbs. chocolate.</td>
<td class="cell_si">2 well-cur'd hams.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">1-2 cwt. best white biscuit.</td>
<td class="cell_si">1-2 dozen dry'd tongues.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">1-2 lb. pepper.</td>
<td class="cell_si">6 lbs. rice.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">1 quart best white wine</td>
<td class="cell_si">6 lbs. raisins.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_si">1 quart best white wine vinegar.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>These twenty parcels, well pack'd, were placed on as many
horses, each parcel, with the horse, being intended as a present
for one officer. They were very thankfully receiv'd, and the
kindness acknowledg'd by letters to me from the colonels of both
regiments, in the most grateful terms. The general, too, was highly
satisfied with my conduct in procuring him the waggons, etc., and
readily paid my account of disbursements, thanking me repeatedly,
and requesting my farther assistance in sending provisions after
him. I undertook this also, and was busily employ'd in it till we
heard of his defeat, advancing for the service of my own money,
upwards of one thousand pounds sterling, of which I sent him an
account. It came to his hands, luckily for me, a few days before
the battle, and he return'd me immediately an order on the
paymaster for the round sum of one thousand pounds, leaving the
remainder to the next account. I consider this payment as good
luck, having never been able to obtain that remainder, of which
more hereafter.</p>
<p>This general was, I think, a brave man, and might probably have
made a figure as a good officer in some European war. But he had
too much self-confidence, too high an opinion of the validity of
regular troops, and too mean a one of both Americans and Indians.
George Croghan, our Indian interpreter, join'd him on his march
with one hundred of those people, who might have been of great use
to his army as guides, scouts, etc., if he had treated them kindly;
but he slighted and neglected them, and they gradually left
him.</p>
<p>In conversation with him one day, he was giving me some account
of his intended progress. "After taking Fort Duquesne,"<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_97" id="FNanchor_97" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</SPAN> says he, "I am to proceed to Niagara; and,
having taken that, to Frontenac,<SPAN name="FNanchor_98" id="FNanchor_98" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</SPAN> if
the season will allow time; and I suppose it will, for Duquesne can
hardly detain me above three or four days; and then I see nothing
that can obstruct my march to Niagara." Having before revolv'd in
my mind the long line his army must make in their march by a very
narrow road, to be cut for them thro' the woods and bushes, and
also what I had read of a former defeat of fifteen hundred French,
who invaded the Iroquois country, I had conceiv'd some doubts and
some fears for the event of the campaign. But I ventur'd only to
say, "To be sure, sir, if you arrive well before Duquesne, with
these fine troops, so well provided with artillery, that place not
yet completely fortified, and as we hear with no very strong
garrison, can probably make but a short resistance. The only danger
I apprehend of obstruction to your march is from ambuscades of
Indians, who, by constant practice, are dexterous in laying and
executing them; and the slender line, near four miles long, which
your army must make, may expose it to be attack'd by surprise in
its flanks, and to be cut like a thread into several pieces, which,
from their distance, cannot come up in time to support each
other."</p>
<p>He smil'd at my ignorance, and reply'd, "These savages may,
indeed, be a formidable enemy to your raw American militia, but
upon the king's regular and disciplin'd troops, sir, it is
impossible they should make any impression." I was conscious of an
impropriety in my disputing with a military man in matters of his
profession, and said no more. The enemy, however, did not take the
advantage of his army which I apprehended its long line of march
expos'd it to, but let it advance without interruption till within
nine miles of the place; and then, when more in a body (for it had
just passed a river, where the front had halted till all were come
over), and in a more open part of the woods than any it had pass'd,
attack'd its advanced guard by heavy fire from behind trees and
bushes, which was the first intelligence the general had of an
enemy's being near him. This guard being disordered, the general
hurried the troops up to their assistance, which was done in great
confusion, thro' waggons, baggage, and cattle; and presently the
fire came upon their flank: the officers, being on horseback, were
more easily distinguish'd, pick'd out as marks, and fell very fast;
and the soldiers were crowded together in a huddle, having or
hearing no orders, and standing to be shot at till two-thirds of
them were killed; and then, being seiz'd with a panick, the whole
fled with precipitation.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="70%" src= "images/illus-029-red.jpg" alt="The only danger I apprehend of obstruction to your march is from ambuscades of Indians" title= "The only danger I apprehend of obstruction to your march is from ambuscades of Indians" /></div>
<p>The waggoners took each a horse out of his team and scamper'd;
their example was immediately followed by others; so that all the
waggons, provisions, artillery, and stores were left to the enemy.
The general, being wounded, was brought off with difficulty; his
secretary, Mr. Shirley, was killed by his side; and out of
eighty-six officers, sixty-three were killed or wounded, and seven
hundred and fourteen men killed out of eleven hundred. These eleven
hundred had been picked men from the whole army; the rest had been
left behind with Colonel Dunbar, who was to follow with the heavier
part of the stores, provisions, and baggage. The flyers, not being
pursu'd, arriv'd at Dunbar's camp, and the panick they brought with
them instantly seiz'd him and all his people; and, tho' he had now
above one thousand men, and the enemy who had beaten Braddock did
not at most exceed four hundred Indians and French together,
instead of proceeding, and endeavouring to recover some of the lost
honour, he ordered all the stores, ammunition, etc., to be
destroy'd, that he might have more horses to assist his flight
towards the settlements, and less lumber to remove. He was there
met with requests from the governors of Virginia, Maryland, and
Pennsylvania, that he would post his troops on the frontier, so as
to afford some protection to the inhabitants; but he continued his
hasty march thro' all the country, not thinking himself safe till
he arrived at Philadelphia, where the inhabitants could protect
him. This whole transaction gave us Americans the first suspicion
that our exalted ideas of the prowess of British regulars had not
been well founded.<SPAN name="FNanchor_99" id="FNanchor_99" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</SPAN></p>
<p>In their first march, too, from their landing till they got
beyond the settlements, they had plundered and stripped the
inhabitants, totally ruining some poor families, besides insulting,
abusing, and confining the people if they remonstrated. This was
enough to put us out of conceit of such defenders, if we had really
wanted any. How different was the conduct of our French friends in
1781, who, during a march thro' the most inhabited part of our
country from Rhode Island to Virginia, near seven hundred miles,
occasioned not the smallest complaint for the loss of a pig, a
chicken, or even an apple.</p>
<p>Captain Orme, who was one of the general's aids-de-camp, and,
being grievously wounded, was brought off with him, and continu'd
with him to his death, which happen'd in a few days, told me that
he was totally silent all the first day, and at night only said,
"<i>Who would have thought it?</i>" That he was silent again the
following day, saying only at last, "<i>We shall better know how to
deal with them another time</i>"; and dy'd in a few minutes
after.</p>
<p>The secretary's papers, with all the general's orders,
instructions, and correspondence, falling into the enemy's hands,
they selected and translated into French a number of the articles,
which they printed, to prove the hostile intentions of the British
court before the declaration of war. Among these I saw some letters
of the general to the ministry, speaking highly of the great
service I had rendered the army, and recommending me to their
notice. David Hume,<SPAN name="FNanchor_100" id="FNanchor_100" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</SPAN> too, who was some
years after secretary to Lord Hertford, when minister in France,
and afterward to General Conway, when secretary of state, told me
he had seen among the papers in that office, letters from Braddock
highly recommending me. But, the expedition having been
unfortunate, my service, it seems, was not thought of much value,
for those recommendations were never of any use to me.</p>
<p>As to rewards from himself, I ask'd only one, which was, that he
would give orders to his officers not to enlist any more of our
bought servants, and that he would discharge such as had been
already enlisted. This he readily granted, and several were
accordingly return'd to their masters, on my application. Dunbar,
when the command devolv'd on him, was not so generous. He being at
Philadelphia, on his retreat, or rather flight, I apply'd to him
for the discharge of the servants of three poor farmers of
Lancaster county that he had enlisted, reminding him of the late
general's orders on that head. He promised me that, if the masters
would come to him at Trenton, where he should be in a few days on
his march to New York, he would there deliver their men to them.
They accordingly were at the expense and trouble of going to
Trenton, and there he refus'd to perform his promise, to their
great loss and disappointment.</p>
<p>As soon as the loss of the waggons and horses was generally
known, all the owners came upon me for the valuation which I had
given bond to pay. Their demands gave me a great deal of trouble,
my acquainting them that the money was ready in the paymaster's
hands, but that orders for paying it must first be obtained from
General Shirley,<SPAN name="FNanchor_101" id="FNanchor_101" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</SPAN> and my assuring them
that I had apply'd to that general by letter; but, he being at a
distance, an answer could not soon be receiv'd, and they must have
patience, all this was not sufficient to satisfy, and some began to
sue me. General Shirley at length relieved me from this terrible
situation by appointing commissioners to examine the claims, and
ordering payment. They amounted to near twenty thousand pound,
which to pay would have ruined me.</p>
<p>Before we had the news of this defeat, the two Doctors Bond came
to me with a subscription paper for raising money to defray the
expense of a grand firework, which it was intended to exhibit at a
rejoicing on receipt of the news of our taking Fort Duquesne. I
looked grave, and said it would, I thought, be time enough to
prepare for the rejoicing when we knew we should have occasion to
rejoice. They seem'd surpris'd that I did not immediately comply
with their proposal. "Why the d——l!" says one of them,
"you surely don't suppose that the fort will not be taken?" "I
don't know that it will not be taken, but I know that the events of
war are subject to great uncertainty." I gave them the reasons of
my doubting; the subscription was dropt, and the projectors thereby
missed the mortification they would have undergone if the firework
had been prepared. Dr. Bond, on some other occasion afterward, said
that he did not like Franklin's forebodings.</p>
<p>Governor Morris, who had continually worried the Assembly with
message after message before the defeat of Braddock, to beat them
into the making of acts to raise money for the defense of the
province, without taxing, among others, the proprietary estates,
and had rejected all their bills for not having such an exempting
clause, now redoubled his attacks with more hope of success, the
danger and necessity being greater. The Assembly, however,
continu'd firm, believing they had justice on their side, and that
it would be giving up an essential right if they suffered the
governor to amend their money-bills. In one of the last, indeed,
which was for granting fifty thousand pounds, his propos'd
amendment was only of a single word. The bill express'd "that all
estates, real and personal, were to be taxed, those of the
proprietaries <i>not</i> excepted." His amendment was, for
<i>not</i> read <i>only</i>: a small, but very material alteration.
However, when the news of this disaster reached England, our
friends there whom we had taken care to furnish with all the
Assembly's answers to the governor's messages, rais'd a clamor
against the proprietaries for their meanness and injustice in
giving their governor such instructions; some going so far as to
say that, by obstructing the defense of their province, they
forfeited their right to it. They were intimidated by this, and
sent orders to their receiver-general to add five thousand pounds
of their money to whatever sum might be given by the Assembly for
such purpose.</p>
<p>This, being notified to the House, was accepted in lieu of their
share of a general tax, and a new bill was form'd, with an
exempting clause, which passed accordingly. By this act I was
appointed one of the commissioners for disposing of the money,
sixty thousand pounds. I had been active in modelling the bill and
procuring its passage, and had, at the same time, drawn a bill for
establishing and disciplining a voluntary militia, which I carried
thro' the House without much difficulty, as care was taken in it to
leave the Quakers at their liberty. To promote the association
necessary to form the militia, I wrote a dialogue,<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_102" id="FNanchor_102" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</SPAN> stating and answering all the objections I
could think of to such a militia, which was printed, and had, as I
thought, great effect.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_96" id="Footnote_96" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></SPAN> By chance.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_97" id="Footnote_97" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></SPAN> Pittsburg.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_98" id="Footnote_98" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></SPAN> Kingston, at the
eastern end of Lake Ontario.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_99" id="Footnote_99" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></SPAN> Other accounts
of this expedition and defeat may be found in Fiske's <i>Washington
and his Country</i>, or Lodge's <i>George Washington</i>,
Vol. 1.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_100" id="Footnote_100" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></SPAN> A famous
Scotch philosopher and historian (1711-1776).</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_101" id="Footnote_101" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></SPAN> Governor of
Massachusetts and commander of the British forces in America.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_102" id="Footnote_102" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></SPAN> This dialogue
and the militia act are in the Gentleman's Magazine for February
and March, 1756.—<i>Marg. note.</i></p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XVII" id="XVII" />XVII</h4>
<h4>FRANKLIN'S DEFENSE OF THE FRONTIER</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-w.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-W" />HILE the several companies in the city and country were
forming, and learning their exercise, the governor prevail'd with
me to take charge of our North-western frontier, which was infested
by the enemy, and provide for the defense of the inhabitants by
raising troops and building a line of forts. I undertook this
military business, tho' I did not conceive myself well qualified
for it. He gave me a commission with full powers, and a parcel of
blank commissions for officers, to be given to whom I thought fit.
I had but little difficulty in raising men, having soon five
hundred and sixty under my command. My son, who had in the
preceding war been an officer in the army rais'd against Canada,
was my aid-de-camp, and of great use to me. The Indians had burned
Gnadenhut,<SPAN name="FNanchor_103" id="FNanchor_103" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</SPAN> a village settled by the
Moravians, and massacred the inhabitants; but the place was thought
a good situation for one of the forts.</p>
<p>In order to march thither, I assembled the companies at
Bethlehem, the chief establishment of those people. I was surprised
to find it in so good a posture of defense; the destruction of
Gnadenhut had made them apprehend danger. The principal buildings
were defended by a stockade; they had purchased a quantity of arms
and ammunition from New York, and had even plac'd quantities of
small paving stones between the windows of their high stone houses,
for their women to throw down upon the heads of any Indians that
should attempt to force into them. The armed brethren, too, kept
watch, and reliev'd as methodically as in any garrison town. In
conversation with the bishop, Spangenberg, I mention'd this my
surprise; for, knowing they had obtained an act of Parliament
exempting them from military duties in the colonies, I had suppos'd
they were conscientiously scrupulous of bearing arms. He answer'd
me that it was not one of their established principles, but that,
at the time of their obtaining that act, it was thought to be a
principle with many of their people. On this occasion, however,
they, to their surprise, found it adopted by but a few. It seems
they were either deceiv'd in themselves, or deceiv'd the
Parliament; but common sense, aided by present danger, will
sometimes be too strong for whimsical opinions.</p>
<p>It was the beginning of January when we set out upon this
business of building forts. I sent one detachment toward the
Minisink, with instructions to erect one for the security of that
upper part of the country, and another to the lower part, with
similar instructions; and I concluded to go myself with the rest of
my force to Gnadenhut, where a fort was tho't more immediately
necessary. The Moravians procur'd me five waggons for our tools,
stores, baggage, etc.</p>
<p>Just before we left Bethlehem, eleven farmers, who had been
driven from their plantations by the Indians, came to me requesting
a supply of firearms, that they might go back and fetch off their
cattle. I gave them each a gun with suitable ammunition. We had not
march'd many miles before it began to rain, and it continued
raining all day; there were no habitations on the road to shelter
us, till we arriv'd near night at the house of a German, where, and
in his barn, we were all huddled together, as wet as water could
make us. It was well we were not attack'd in our march, for our
arms were of the most ordinary sort, and our men could not keep
their gun locks<SPAN name="FNanchor_104" id="FNanchor_104" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</SPAN> dry. The Indians are
dexterous in contrivances for that purpose, which we had not. They
met that day the eleven poor farmers above mentioned, and killed
ten of them. The one who escap'd inform'd that his and his
companions' guns would not go off, the priming being wet with the
rain.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="70%" src= "images/illus-030-red.jpg" alt="We had not march'd many miles before it began to rain" title= "We had not march'd many miles before it began to rain" /></div>
<p>The next day being fair, we continu'd our march, and arriv'd at
the desolated Gnadenhut. There was a saw-mill near, round which
were left several piles of boards, with which we soon hutted
ourselves; an operation the more necessary at that inclement
season, as we had no tents. Our first work was to bury more
effectually the dead we found there, who had been half interr'd by
the country people.</p>
<p>The next morning our fort was plann'd and mark'd out, the
circumference measuring four hundred and fifty-five feet, which
would require as many palisades to be made of trees, one with
another, of a foot diameter each. Our axes, of which we had
seventy, were immediately set to work to cut down trees, and, our
men being dexterous in the use of them, great despatch was made.
Seeing the trees fall so fast, I had the curiosity to look at my
watch when two men began to cut at a pine; in six minutes they had
it upon the ground, and I found it of fourteen inches diameter.
Each pine made three palisades of eighteen feet long, pointed at
one end. While these were preparing, our other men dug a trench all
round, of three feet deep, in which the palisades were to be
planted; and, our waggons, the bodys being taken off, and the fore
and hind wheels separated by taking out the pin which united the
two parts of the perch,<SPAN name="FNanchor_105" id="FNanchor_105" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</SPAN>
we had ten carriages, with two horses each, to bring the palisades
from the woods to the spot. When they were set up, our carpenters
built a stage of boards all round within, about six feet high, for
the men to stand on when to fire thro' the loopholes. We had one
swivel gun, which we mounted on one of the angles, and fir'd it as
soon as fix'd, to let the Indians know, if any were within hearing,
that we had such pieces; and thus our fort, if such a magnificent
name may be given to so miserable a stockade, was finish'd in a
week, though it rain'd so hard every other day that the men could
not work.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p278" id="p278" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-031-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-031thumb.jpg" alt="Our axes ... were immediately set to work to cut down trees" title= "Our axes ... were immediately set to work to cut down trees" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"Our axes ... were immediately set to
work to cut down trees"</div>
<p>This gave me occasion to observe, that, when men are employ'd,
they are best content'd; for on the days they worked they were
good-natur'd and cheerful, and, with the consciousness of having
done a good day's work, they spent the evening jollily; but on our
idle days they were mutinous and quarrelsome, finding fault with
their pork, the bread, etc., and in continual ill-humour, which put
me in mind of a sea-captain, whose rule it was to keep his men
constantly at work; and, when his mate once told him that they had
done everything, and there was nothing further to employ them
about, <i>"Oh," says he, "make them scour the anchor."</i></p>
<p>This kind of fort, however contemptible, is a sufficient defense
against Indians, who have no cannon. Finding ourselves now posted
securely, and having a place to retreat to on occasion, we ventur'd
out in parties to scour the adjacent country. We met with no
Indians, but we found the places on the neighbouring hills where
they had lain to watch our proceedings. There was an art in their
contrivance of those places that seems worth mention. It being
winter, a fire was necessary for them; but a common fire on the
surface of the ground would by its light have discover'd their
position at a distance. They had therefore dug holes in the ground
about three feet diameter, and somewhat deeper; we saw where they
had with their hatchets cut off the charcoal from the sides of
burnt logs lying in the woods. With these coals they had made small
fires in the bottom of the holes, and we observ'd among the weeds
and grass the prints of their bodies, made by their laying all
round, with their legs hanging down in the holes to keep their feet
warm, which, with them, is an essential point. This kind of fire,
so manag'd, could not discover them, either by its light, flame,
sparks, or even smoke: it appear'd that their number was not great,
and it seems they saw we were too many to be attacked by them with
prospect of advantage.</p>
<p>We had for our chaplain a zealous Presbyterian minister, Mr.
Beatty, who complained to me that the men did not generally attend
his prayers and exhortations. When they enlisted, they were
promised, besides pay and provisions, a gill of rum a day, which
was punctually serv'd out to them, half in the morning, and the
other half in the evening; and I observed they were as punctual in
attending to receive it; upon which I said to Mr. Beatty, "It is,
perhaps, below the dignity of your profession to act as steward of
the rum, but if you were to deal it out and only just after
prayers, you would have them all about you." He liked the tho't,
undertook the office, and, with the help of a few hands to measure
out the liquor, executed it to satisfaction, and never were prayers
more generally and more punctually attended; so that I thought this
method preferable to the punishment inflicted by some military laws
for non-attendance on divine service.</p>
<p>I had hardly finish'd this business, and got my fort well stor'd
with provisions, when I receiv'd a letter from the governor,
acquainting me that he had call'd the Assembly, and wished my
attendance there, if the posture of affairs on the frontiers was
such that my remaining there was no longer necessary. My friends,
too, of the Assembly, pressing me by their letters to be, if
possible, at the meeting, and my three intended forts being now
compleated, and the inhabitants contented to remain on their farms
under that protection, I resolved to return; the more willingly, as
a New England officer, Colonel Clapham, experienced in Indian war,
being on a visit to our establishment, consented to accept the
command. I gave him a commission, and, parading the garrison, had
it read before them, and introduc'd him to them as an officer who,
from his skill in military affairs, was much more fit to command
them than myself; and, giving them a little exhortation, took my
leave. I was escorted as far as Bethlehem, where I rested a few
days to recover from the fatigue I had undergone. The first night,
being in a good bed, I could hardly sleep, it was so different from
my hard lodging on the floor of our hut at Gnaden wrapt only in a
blanket or two.</p>
<p>While at Bethlehem, I inquir'd a little into the practice of the
Moravians: some of them had accompanied me, and all were very kind
to me. I found they work'd for a common stock, ate at common
tables, and slept in common dormitories, great numbers together. In
the dormitories I observed loopholes, at certain distances all
along just under the ceiling, which I thought judiciously placed
for change of air. I was at their church, where I was entertain'd
with good musick, the organ being accompanied with violins,
hautboys, flutes, clarinets, etc. I understood that their sermons
were not usually preached to mixed congregations of men, women, and
children, as is our common practice, but that they assembled
sometimes the married men, at other times their wives, then the
young men, the young women, and the little children, each division
by itself. The sermon I heard was to the latter, who came in and
were plac'd in rows on benches; the boys under the conduct of a
young man, their tutor, and the girls conducted by a young woman.
The discourse seem'd well adapted to their capacities, and was
delivered in a pleasing, familiar manner, coaxing them, as it were,
to be good. They behav'd very orderly, but looked pale and
unhealthy, which made me suspect they were kept too much within
doors, or not allow'd sufficient exercise.</p>
<p>I inquir'd concerning the Moravian marriages, whether the report
was true that they were by lot. I was told that lots were us'd only
in particular cases; that generally, when a young man found himself
dispos'd to marry, he inform'd the elders of his class, who
consulted the elder ladies that govern'd the young women. As these
elders of the different sexes were well acquainted with the tempers
and dispositions of their respective pupils, they could best judge
what matches were suitable, and their judgments were generally
acquiesc'd in; but if, for example, it should happen that two or
three young women were found to be equally proper for the young
man, the lot was then recurred to. I objected, if the matches are
not made by the mutual choice of the parties, some of them may
chance to be very unhappy. "And so they may," answer'd my informer,
"if you let the parties chuse for themselves;" which, indeed, I
could not deny.</p>
<p>Being returned to Philadelphia, I found the association went on
swimmingly, the inhabitants that were not Quakers having pretty
generally come into it, formed themselves into companies, and chose
their captains, lieutenants, and ensigns, according to the new law.
Dr. B. visited me, and gave me an account of the pains he had taken
to spread a general good liking to the law, and ascribed much to
those endeavours. I had had the vanity to ascribe all to my
<i>Dialogue</i>; however, not knowing but that he might be in the
right, I let him enjoy his opinion, which I take to be generally
the best way in such cases. The officers, meeting, chose me to be
colonel of the regiment, which I this time accepted. I forget how
many companies we had, but we paraded about twelve hundred
well-looking men, with a company of artillery, who had been
furnished with six brass field-pieces, which they had become so
expert in the use of as to fire twelve times in a minute. The first
time I reviewed my regiment they accompanied me to my house, and
would salute me with some rounds fired before my door, which shook
down and broke several glasses of my electrical apparatus. And my
new honour proved not much less brittle; for all our commissions
were soon after broken by a repeal of the law in England.</p>
<p>During this short time of my colonelship, being about to set out
on a journey to Virginia, the officers of my regiment took it into
their heads that it would be proper for them to escort me out of
town, as far as the Lower Ferry. Just as I was getting on horseback
they came to my door, between thirty and forty, mounted, and all in
their uniforms. I had not been previously acquainted with the
project, or I should have prevented it, being naturally averse to
the assuming of state on any occasion; and I was a good deal
chagrin'd at their appearance, as I could not avoid their
accompanying me. What made it worse was, that, as soon as we began
to move, they drew their swords and rode with them naked all the
way. Somebody wrote an account of this to the proprietor, and it
gave him great offense. No such honour had been paid him when in
the province, nor to any of his governors; and he said it was only
proper to princes of the blood royal, which may be true for aught I
know, who was, and still am, ignorant of the etiquette in such
cases.</p>
<p>This silly affair, however, greatly increased his rancour
against me, which was before not a little, on account of my conduct
in the Assembly respecting the exemption of his estate from
taxation, which I had always oppos'd very warmly, and not without
severe reflections on his meanness and injustice of contending for
it. He accused me to the ministry as being the great obstacle to
the King's service, preventing, by my influence in the House, the
proper form of the bills for raising money, and he instanced this
parade with my officers as a proof of my having an intention to
take the government of the province out of his hands by force. He
also applied to Sir Everard Fawkener, the postmaster-general, to
deprive me of my office; but it had no other effect than to procure
from Sir Everard a gentle admonition.</p>
<p>Notwithstanding the continual wrangle between the governor and
the House, in which I, as a member, had so large a share, there
still subsisted a civil intercourse between that gentleman and
myself, and we never had any personal difference. I have sometimes
since thought that his little or no resentment against me, for the
answers it was known I drew up to his messages, might be the effect
of professional habit, and that, being bred a lawyer, he might
consider us both as merely advocates for contending clients in a
suit, he for the proprietaries and I for the Assembly. He would,
therefore, sometimes call in a friendly way to advise with me on
difficult points, and sometimes, tho' not often, take my
advice.</p>
<p>We acted in concert to supply Braddock's army with provisions;
and, when the shocking news arrived of his defeat, the governor
sent in haste for me, to consult with him on measures for
preventing the desertion of the back counties. I forget now the
advice I gave; but I think it was, that Dunbar should be written
to, and prevail'd with, if possible, to post his troops on the
frontiers for their protection, till, by reinforcements from the
colonies, he might be able to proceed on the expedition. And, after
my return from the frontier, he would have had me undertake the
conduct of such an expedition with provincial troops, for the
reduction of Fort Duquesne, Dunbar and his men being otherwise
employed; and he proposed to commission me as general. I had not so
good an opinion of my military abilities as he profess'd to have,
and I believe his professions must have exceeded his real
sentiments; but probably he might think that my popularity would
facilitate the raising of the men, and my influence in Assembly,
the grant of money to pay them, and that, perhaps, without taxing
the proprietary estate. Finding me not so forward to engage as he
expected, the project was dropt, and he soon after left the
government, being superseded by Captain Denny.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_103" id="Footnote_103" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></SPAN> Pronounced
Gna´-den-hoot.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_104" id="Footnote_104" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></SPAN> Flint-lock
guns, discharged by means of a spark struck from flint and steel
into powder (priming) in an open pan.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_105" id="Footnote_105" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></SPAN> Here the pole
connecting the front and rear wheels of a wagon.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XVIII" id="XVIII" />XVIII</h4>
<h4>SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-b.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-b" />EFORE I proceed in relating the part I had in public
affairs under this new governor's administration, it may not be
amiss here to give some account of the rise and progress of my
philosophical reputation.</p>
<p>In 1746, being at Boston, I met there with a Dr. Spence, who was
lately arrived from Scotland, and show'd me some electric
experiments. They were imperfectly perform'd, as he was not very
expert; but, being on a subject quite new to me, they equally
surpris'd and pleased me. Soon after my return to Philadelphia, our
library company receiv'd from Mr. P. Collinson, Fellow of the Royal
Society<SPAN name="FNanchor_106" id="FNanchor_106" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</SPAN> of London, a present of
a glass tube, with some account of the use of it in making such
experiments. I eagerly seized the opportunity of repeating what I
had seen at Boston; and, by much practice, acquired great readiness
in performing those, also, which we had an account of from England,
adding a number of new ones. I say much practice, for my house was
continually full, for some time, with people who came to see these
new wonders.</p>
<p>To divide a little this incumbrance among my friends, I caused a
number of similar tubes to be blown at our glass-house, with which
they furnish'd themselves, so that we had at length several
performers. Among these, the principal was Mr. Kinnersley, an
ingenious neighbour, who, being out of business, I encouraged to
undertake showing the experiments for money, and drew up for him
two lectures, in which the experiments were rang'd in such order,
and accompanied with such explanations in such method, as that the
foregoing should assist in comprehending the following. He procur'd
an elegant apparatus for the purpose, in which all the little
machines that I had roughly made for myself were nicely form'd by
instrument-makers. His lectures were well attended, and gave great
satisfaction; and after some time he went thro' the colonies,
exhibiting them in every capital town, and pick'd up some money. In
the West India islands, indeed, it was with difficulty the
experiments could be made, from the general moisture of the
air.</p>
<p>Oblig'd as we were to Mr. Collinson for his present of the tube,
etc., I thought it right he should be inform'd of our success in
using it, and wrote him several letters containing accounts of our
experiments. He got them read in the Royal Society, where they were
not at first thought worth so much notice as to be printed in their
Transactions. One paper, which I wrote for Mr. Kinnersley, on the
sameness of lightning with electricity,<SPAN name="FNanchor_107" id="FNanchor_107" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</SPAN>
I sent to Dr. Mitchel, an acquaintance of mine, and one of the
members also of that society, who wrote me word that it had been
read, but was laughed at by the connoisseurs. The papers, however,
being shown to Dr. Fothergill, he thought them of too much value to
be stifled, and advis'd the printing of them. Mr. Collinson then
gave them to <i>Cave</i> for publication in his Gentleman's
Magazine; but he chose to print them separately in a pamphlet, and
Dr. Fothergill wrote the preface. Cave, it seems, judged rightly
for his profit, for by the additions that arrived afterward, they
swell'd to a quarto volume, which has had five editions, and cost
him nothing for copy-money.</p>
<p>It was, however, some time before those papers were much taken
notice of in England. A copy of them happening to fall into the
hands of the Count de Buffon,<SPAN name="FNanchor_108" id="FNanchor_108" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</SPAN>
a philosopher deservedly of great reputation in France, and,
indeed, all over Europe, he prevailed with M. Dalibard<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_109" id="FNanchor_109" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</SPAN> to translate them into French, and they were
printed at Paris. The publication offended the Abbé Nollet,
preceptor in Natural Philosophy to the royal family, and an able
experimenter, who had form'd and publish'd a theory of electricity,
which then had the general vogue. He could not at first believe
that such a work came from America, and said it must have been
fabricated by his enemies at Paris, to decry his system.
Afterwards, having been assur'd that there really existed such a
person as Franklin at Philadelphia, which he had doubted, he wrote
and published a volume of Letters, chiefly address'd to me,
defending his theory, and denying the verity of my experiments, and
of the positions deduc'd from them.</p>
<p>I once purpos'd answering the abbé, and actually began
the answer; but, on consideration that my writings contained a
description of experiments which anyone might repeat and verify,
and if not to be verifi'd, could not be defended; or of
observations offer'd as conjectures, and not delivered
dogmatically, therefore not laying me under any obligation to
defend them; and reflecting that a dispute between two persons,
writing in different languages, might be lengthened greatly by
mistranslations, and thence misconceptions of one another's
meaning, much of one of the abbé's letters being founded on
an error in the translation, I concluded to let my papers shift for
themselves, believing it was better to spend what time I could
spare from public business in making new experiments, than in
disputing about those already made. I therefore never answered M.
Nollet, and the event gave me no cause to repent my silence; for my
friend M. le Roy, of the Royal Academy of Sciences, took up my
cause and refuted him; my book was translated into the Italian,
German, and Latin languages; and the doctrine it contain'd was by
degrees universally adopted by the philosophers of Europe, in
preference to that of the abbé; so that he lived to see
himself the last of his sect, except Monsieur B——, of
Paris, his <i>élève</i> and immediate disciple.</p>
<p>What gave my book the more sudden and general celebrity, was the
success of one of its proposed experiments, made by Messrs.
Dalibard and De Lor at Marly, for drawing lightning from the
clouds. This engag'd the public attention everywhere. M. de Lor,
who had an apparatus for experimental philosophy, and lectur'd in
that branch of science, undertook to repeat what he called the
<i>Philadelphia Experiments</i>; and, after they were performed
before the king and court, all the curious of Paris flocked to see
them. I will not swell this narrative with an account of that
capital experiment, nor of the infinite pleasure I receiv'd in the
success of a similar one I made soon after with a kite at
Philadelphia, as both are to be found in the histories of
electricity.</p>
<p>Dr. Wright, an English physician, when at Paris, wrote to a
friend, who was of the Royal Society, an account of the high esteem
my experiments were in among the learned abroad, and of their
wonder that my writings had been so little noticed in England. The
society, on this, resum'd the consideration of the letters that had
been read to them; and the celebrated Dr. Watson drew up a summary
account of them, and of all I had afterwards sent to England on the
subject, which he accompanied with some praise of the writer. This
summary was then printed in their Transactions; and some members of
the society in London, particularly the very ingenious Mr. Canton,
having verified the experiment of procuring lightning from the
clouds by a pointed rod, and acquainting them with the success,
they soon made me more than amends for the slight with which they
had before treated me. Without my having made any application for
that honour, they chose me a member, and voted that I should be
excus'd the customary payments, which would have amounted to
twenty-five guineas; and ever since have given me their
Transactions gratis. They also presented me with the gold medal of
Sir Godfrey Copley<SPAN name="FNanchor_110" id="FNanchor_110" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</SPAN> for the year 1753,
the delivery of which was accompanied by a very handsome speech of
the president, Lord Macclesfield, wherein I was highly
honoured.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_106" id="Footnote_106" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></SPAN> The Royal
Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge was founded in
1660 and holds the foremost place among English societies for the
advancement of science.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_107" id="Footnote_107" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></SPAN>See page <SPAN href="#ELECTRICAL_KITE">327.</SPAN></p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_108" id="Footnote_108" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></SPAN> A celebrated
French naturalist (1707-1788).</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_109" id="Footnote_109" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></SPAN> Dalibard, who
had translated Franklin's letters to Collinson into French, was the
first to demonstrate, in a practical application of Franklin's
experiment, that lightning and electricity are the same. "This was
May 10th, 1752, one month before Franklin flew his famous kite at
Philadelphia and proved the fact himself."—McMaster.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_110" id="Footnote_110" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></SPAN> An English
baronet (died in 1709), donator of a fund of £100, "in trust
for the Royal Society of London for improving natural
knowledge."</p>
</div>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="50%" src= "images/illus-032-red.jpg" alt="the gold medal of Sir Godfrey Copley" title= "the gold medal of Sir Godfrey Copley" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="XIX" id="XIX" />XIX</h4>
<h4>AGENT OF PENNSYLVANIA IN LONDON</h4>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/block-o.jpg" class="floatLeft" alt="block-O" />UR new governor, Captain Denny, brought over for me the
before mentioned medal from the Royal Society, which he presented
to me at an entertainment given him by the city. He accompanied it
with very polite expressions of his esteem for me, having, as he
said, been long acquainted with my character. After dinner, when
the company, as was customary at that time, were engag'd in
drinking, he took me aside into another room, and acquainted me
that he had been advis'd by his friends in England to cultivate a
friendship with me, as one who was capable of giving him the best
advice, and of contributing most effectually to the making his
administration easy; that he therefore desired of all things to
have a good understanding with me, and he begged me to be assured
of his readiness on all occasions to render me every service that
might be in his power. He said much to me, also, of the
proprietor's good disposition towards the province, and of the
advantage it might be to us all, and to me in particular, if the
opposition that had been so long continu'd to his measures was
dropt, and harmony restor'd between him and the people; in
effecting which, it was thought no one could be more serviceable
than myself; and I might depend on adequate acknowledgments and
recompenses, etc., etc. The drinkers, finding we did not return
immediately to the table, sent us a decanter of Madeira, which the
governor made liberal use of, and in proportion became more profuse
of his solicitations and promises.</p>
<p>My answers were to this purpose: that my circumstances, thanks
to God, were such as to make proprietary favours unnecessary to me;
and that, being a member of the Assembly, I could not possibly
accept of any; that, however, I had no personal enmity to the
proprietary, and that, whenever the public measures he propos'd
should appear to be for the good of the people, no one should
espouse and forward them more zealously than myself; my past
opposition having been founded on this, that the measures which had
been urged were evidently intended to serve the proprietary
interest, with great prejudice to that of the people; that I was
much obliged to him (the governor) for his professions of regard to
me, and that he might rely on everything in my power to make his
administration as easy as possible, hoping at the same time that he
had not brought with him the same unfortunate instruction his
predecessor had been hampered with.</p>
<p>On this he did not then explain himself; but when he afterwards
came to do business with the Assembly, they appear'd again, the
disputes were renewed, and I was as active as ever in the
opposition, being the penman, first, of the request to have a
communication of the instructions, and then of the remarks upon
them, which may be found in the votes of the time, and in the
Historical Review I afterward publish'd. But between us personally
no enmity arose; we were often together; he was a man of letters,
had seen much of the world, and was very entertaining and pleasing
in conversation. He gave me the first information that my old
friend Jas. Ralph was still alive; that he was esteem'd one of the
best political writers in England; had been employed in the
dispute<SPAN name="FNanchor_111" id="FNanchor_111" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</SPAN> between Prince Frederic
and the king, and had obtain'd a pension of three hundred a year;
that his reputation was indeed small as a poet, Pope having damned
his poetry in the <i>Dunciad</i>,<SPAN name="FNanchor_112" id="FNanchor_112" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</SPAN>
but his prose was thought as good as any man's.</p>
<p>The Assembly finally finding the proprietary obstinately
persisted in manacling their deputies with instructions
inconsistent not only with the privileges of the people, but with
the service of the crown, resolv'd to petition the king against
them, and appointed me their agent to go over to England, to
present and support the petition. The House had sent up a bill to
the governor, granting a sum of sixty thousand pounds for the
king's use (ten thousand pounds of which was subjected to the
orders of the then general, Lord Loudoun), which the governor
absolutely refus'd to pass, in compliance with his
instructions.</p>
<p>I had agreed with Captain Morris, of the packet at New York, for
my passage, and my stores were put on board, when Lord Loudoun
arriv'd at Philadelphia, expressly, as he told me, to endeavour an
accommodation between the governor and Assembly, that his majesty's
service might not be obstructed by their dissensions. Accordingly,
he desir'd the governor and myself to meet him, that he might hear
what was to be said on both sides. We met and discussed the
business. In behalf of the Assembly, I urged all the various
arguments that may be found in the public papers of that time,
which were of my writing, and are printed with the minutes of the
Assembly; and the governor pleaded his instructions, the bond he
had given to observe them, and his ruin if he disobey'd, yet seemed
not unwilling to hazard himself if Lord Loudoun would advise it.
This his lordship did not chuse to do, though I once thought I had
nearly prevail'd with him to do it; but finally he rather chose to
urge the compliance of the Assembly; and he entreated me to use my
endeavours with them for that purpose, declaring that he would
spare none of the king's troops for the defense of our frontiers,
and that, if we did not continue to provide for that defense
ourselves, they must remain expos'd to the enemy.</p>
<p>I acquainted the House with what had pass'd, and, presenting
them with a set of resolutions I had drawn up, declaring our
rights, and that we did not relinquish our claim to those rights,
but only suspended the exercise of them on this occasion thro'
<i>force</i>, against which we protested, they at length agreed to
drop that bill, and frame another conformable to the proprietary
instructions. This of course the governor pass'd, and I was then at
liberty to proceed on my voyage. But, in the meantime, the packet
had sailed with my sea-stores, which was some loss to me, and my
only recompense was his lordship's thanks for my service, all the
credit of obtaining the accommodation falling to his share.</p>
<p>He set out for New York before me; and, as the time for
dispatching the packet-boats was at his disposition, and there were
two then remaining there, one of which, he said, was to sail very
soon, I requested to know the precise time, that I might not miss
her by any delay of mine. His answer was, "I have given out that
she is to sail on Saturday next; but I may let you know, <i>entre
nous</i>, that if you are there by Monday morning, you will be in
time, but do not delay longer." By some accidental hindrance at a
ferry, it was Monday noon before I arrived, and I was much afraid
she might have sailed, as the wind was fair; but I was soon made
easy by the information that she was still in the harbor, and would
not move till the next day. One would imagine that I was now on the
very point of departing for Europe. I thought so; but I was not
then so well acquainted with his lordship's character, of which
<i>indecision</i> was one of the strongest features. I shall give
some instances. It was about the beginning of April that I came to
New York, and I think it was near the end of June before we sail'd.
There were then two of the packet-boats, which had been long in
port, but were detained for the general's letters, which were
always to be ready to-morrow. Another packet arriv'd; she too was
detain'd; and, before we sail'd, a fourth was expected. Ours was
the first to be dispatch'd, as having been there longest.
Passengers were engaged in all, and some extremely impatient to be
gone, and the merchants uneasy about their letters, and the orders
they had given for insurance (it being war time) for fall goods;
but their anxiety avail'd nothing; his lordship's letters were not
ready; and yet whoever waited on him found him always at his desk,
pen in hand, and concluded he must needs write abundantly.</p>
<p>Going myself one morning to pay my respects, I found in his
antechamber one Innis, a messenger of Philadelphia, who had come
from thence express with a packet from Governor Denny for the
general. He delivered to me some letters from my friends there,
which occasion'd my inquiring when he was to return, and where he
lodg'd, that I might send some letters by him. He told me he was
order'd to call to-morrow at nine for the general's answer to the
governor, and should set off immediately. I put my letters into his
hands the same day. A fortnight after I met him again in the same
place. "So, you are soon return'd, Innis?" "<i>Return'd</i>! no, I
am not <i>gone</i> yet." "How so?" "I have called here by order
every morning these two weeks past for his lordship's letter, and
it is not yet ready." "Is it possible, when he is so great a
writer? for I see him constantly at his escritoire." "Yes," says
Innis, "but he is like St. George on the signs, <i>always on
horseback, and never rides on</i>." This observation of the
messenger was, it seems, well founded; for, when in England, I
understood that Mr. Pitt<SPAN name="FNanchor_113" id="FNanchor_113" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</SPAN>
gave it as one reason for removing this general, and sending
Generals Amherst and Wolfe, <i>that the minister never heard from
him, and could not know what he was doing</i>.</p>
<p>This daily expectation of sailing, and all the three packets
going down to Sandy Hook, to join the fleet there, the passengers
thought it best to be on board, lest by a sudden order the ships
should sail, and they be left behind. There, if I remember right,
we were about six weeks, consuming our sea-stores, and oblig'd to
procure more. At length the fleet sail'd, the general and all his
army on board, bound to Louisburg, with the intent to besiege and
take that fortress; all the packet-boats in company ordered to
attend the general's ship, ready to receive his dispatches when
they should be ready. We were out five days before we got a letter
with leave to part, and then our ship quitted the fleet and steered
for England. The other two packets he still detained, carried them
with him to Halifax, where he stayed some time to exercise the men
in sham attacks upon sham forts, then altered his mind as to
besieging Louisburg, and returned to New York, with all his troops,
together with the two packets above mentioned, and all their
passengers! During his absence the French and savages had taken
Fort George, on the frontier of that province, and the savages had
massacred many of the garrison after capitulation.</p>
<p>I saw afterwards in London Captain Bonnell, who commanded one of
those packets. He told me that, when he had been detain'd a month,
he acquainted his lordship that his ship was grown foul, to a
degree that must necessarily hinder her fast sailing, a point of
consequence for a packet-boat, and requested an allowance of time
to heave her down and clean her bottom. He was asked how long time
that would require. He answered, three days. The general replied,
"If you can do it in one day, I give leave; otherwise not; for you
must certainly sail the day after to-morrow." So he never obtain'd
leave, though detained afterwards from day to day during full three
months.</p>
<p>I saw also in London one of Bonnell's passengers, who was so
enrag'd against his lordship for deceiving and detaining him so
long at New York, and then carrying him to Halifax and back again,
that he swore he would sue him for damages. Whether he did or not,
I never heard; but, as he represented the injury to his affairs, it
was very considerable.</p>
<p>On the whole, I wonder'd much how such a man came to be
intrusted<SPAN name="FNanchor_114" id="FNanchor_114" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</SPAN> with so important a
business as the conduct of a great army; but, having since seen
more of the great world, and the means of obtaining, and motives
for giving places, my wonder is diminished. General Shirley, on
whom the command of the army devolved upon the death of Braddock,
would, in my opinion, if continued in place, have made a much
better campaign than that of Loudoun in 1757, which was frivolous,
expensive, and disgraceful to our nation beyond conception; for,
tho' Shirley was not a bred soldier, he was sensible and sagacious
in himself, and attentive to good advice from others, capable of
forming judicious plans, and quick and active in carrying them into
execution. Loudoun, instead of defending the colonies with his
great army, left them totally expos'd while he paraded idly at
Halifax, by which means Fort George was lost, besides, he derang'd
all our mercantile operations, and distress'd our trade, by a long
embargo on the exportation of provisions, on pretence of keeping
supplies from being obtain'd by the enemy, but in reality for
beating down their price in favour of the contractors, in whose
profits, it was said, perhaps from suspicion only, he had a share.
And, when at length the embargo was taken off, by neglecting to
send notice of it to Charlestown, the Carolina fleet was detain'd
near three months longer, whereby their bottoms were so much
damaged by the worm that a great part of them foundered in their
passage home.</p>
<p>Shirley was, I believe, sincerely glad of being relieved from so
burdensome a charge as the conduct of an army must be to a man
unacquainted with military business. I was at the entertainment
given by the city of New York to Lord Loudoun, on his taking upon
him the command. Shirley, tho' thereby superseded, was present
also. There was a great company of officers, citizens, and
strangers, and, some chairs having been borrowed in the
neighborhood, there was one among them very low, which fell to the
lot of Mr. Shirley. Perceiving it as I sat by him, I said, "They
have given you, sir, too low a seat." "No matter," says he, "Mr.
Franklin, I find <i>a low seat</i> the easiest."</p>
<p><SPAN name="pg308" id="pg308" />While I was, as afore mention'd,
detain'd at New York, I receiv'd all the accounts of the
provisions, etc., that I had furnish'd to Braddock, some of which
accounts could not sooner be obtain'd from the different persons I
had employ'd to assist in the business. I presented them to Lord
Loudoun, desiring to be paid the balance. He caus'd them to be
regularly examined by the proper officer, who, after comparing
every article with its voucher, certified them to be right; and the
balance due for which his lordship promis'd to give me an order on
the paymaster. This was, however, put off from time to time; and
tho' I call'd often for it by appointment, I did not get it. At
length, just before my departure, he told me he had, on better
consideration, concluded not to mix his accounts with those of his
predecessors. "And you," says he, "when in England, have only to
exhibit your accounts at the treasury, and you will be paid
immediately."</p>
<p>I mention'd, but without effect, the great and unexpected
expense I had been put to by being detain'd so long at New York, as
a reason for my desiring to be presently paid; and on my observing
that it was not right I should be put to any further trouble or
delay in obtaining the money I had advanc'd, as I charged no
commission for my service, "O, Sir," says he, "you must not think
of persuading us that you are no gainer; we understand better those
affairs, and know that every one concerned in supplying the army
finds means, in the doing it, to fill his own pockets." I assur'd
him that was not my case, and that I had not pocketed a farthing;
but he appear'd clearly not to believe me; and, indeed, I have
since learnt that immense fortunes are often made in such
employments. As to my balance, I am not paid it to this day, of
which more hereafter.</p>
<p>Our captain of the packet had boasted much, before we sailed, of
the swiftness of his ship; unfortunately, when we came to sea, she
proved the dullest of ninety-six sail, to his no small
mortification. After many conjectures respecting the cause, when we
were near another ship almost as dull as ours, which, however,
gain'd upon us, the captain ordered all hands to come aft, and
stand as near the ensign staff as possible. We were, passengers
included, about forty persons. While we stood there, the ship
mended her pace, and soon left her neighbour far behind, which
prov'd clearly what our captain suspected, that she was loaded too
much by the head. The casks of water, it seems, had been all plac'd
forward; these he therefore order'd to be mov'd further aft, on
which the ship recover'd her character, and proved the best sailer
in the fleet.</p>
<p>The captain said she had once gone at the rate of thirteen
knots, which is accounted thirteen miles per hour. We had on board,
as a passenger, Captain Kennedy, of the Navy, who contended that it
was impossible, and that no ship ever sailed so fast, and that
there must have been some error in the division of the log-line, or
some mistake in heaving the log.<SPAN name="FNanchor_115" id="FNanchor_115" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</SPAN>
A wager ensu'd between the two captains, to be decided when there
should be sufficient wind. Kennedy thereupon examin'd rigorously
the log-line, and, being satisfi'd with that, he determin'd to
throw the log himself. Accordingly some days after, when the wind
blew very fair and fresh, and the captain of the packet, Lutwidge,
said he believ'd she then went at the rate of thirteen knots,
Kennedy made the experiment, and own'd his wager lost.</p>
<p>The above fact I give for the sake of the following observation.
It has been remark'd, as an imperfection in the art of
ship-building, that it can never be known, till she is tried,
whether a new ship will or will not be a good sailer; for that the
model of a good-sailing ship has been exactly follow'd in a new
one, which has prov'd, on the contrary, remarkably dull. I
apprehend that this may partly be occasion'd by the different
opinions of seamen respecting the modes of lading, rigging, and
sailing of a ship; each has his system; and the same vessel, laden
by the judgment and orders of one captain, shall sail better or
worse than when by the orders of another. Besides, it scarce ever
happens that a ship is form'd, fitted for the sea, and sail'd by
the same person. One man builds the hull, another rigs her, a third
lades and sails her. No one of these has the advantage of knowing
all the ideas and experience of the others, and, therefore, cannot
draw just conclusions from a combination of the whole.</p>
<p>Even in the simple operation of sailing when at sea, I have
often observ'd different judgments in the officers who commanded
the successive watches, the wind being the same. One would have the
sails trimm'd sharper or flatter than another, so that they seem'd
to have no certain rule to govern by. Yet I think a set of
experiments might be instituted; first, to determine the most
proper form of the hull for swift sailing; next, the best
dimensions and properest place for the masts; then the form and
quantity of sails, and their position, as the wind may be; and,
lastly, the disposition of the lading. This is an age of
experiments, and I think a set accurately made and combin'd would
be of great use. I am persuaded, therefore, that ere long some
ingenious philosopher will undertake it, to whom I wish
success.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="60%" src= "images/illus-034-red.jpg" alt="Sailboat" title="Sailing ship" /></div>
<p>We were several times chas'd in our passage, but out-sail'd
every thing, and in thirty days had soundings. We had a good
observation, and the captain judg'd himself so near our port,
Falmouth, that, if we made a good run in the night, we might be off
the mouth of that harbor in the morning, and by running in the
night might escape the notice of the enemy's privateers, who often
cruis'd near the entrance of the channel. Accordingly, all the sail
was set that we could possibly make, and the wind being very fresh
and fair, we went right before it, and made great way. The captain,
after his observation, shap'd his course, as he thought, so as to
pass wide of the Scilly Isles; but it seems there is sometimes a
strong indraught setting up St. George's Channel, which deceives
seamen and caused the loss of Sir Cloudesley Shovel's squadron.
This indraught was probably the cause of what happened to us.</p>
<p>We had a watchman plac'd in the bow, to whom they often called,
"<i>Look well out before there</i>," and he as often answered,
"<i>Ay, ay</i>"; but perhaps had his eyes shut, and was half asleep
at the time, they sometimes answering, as is said, mechanically;
for he did not see a light just before us, which had been hid by
the studding-sails from the man at the helm, and from the rest of
the watch, but by an accidental yaw of the ship was discover'd, and
occasion'd a great alarm, we being very near it, the light
appearing to me as big as a cartwheel. It was midnight, and our
captain fast asleep; but Captain Kennedy, jumping upon deck, and
seeing the danger, ordered the ship to wear round, all sails
standing; an operation dangerous to the masts, but it carried us
clear, and we escaped shipwreck, for we were running right upon the
rocks on which the lighthouse was erected. This deliverance
impressed me strongly with the utility of lighthouses, and made me
resolve to encourage the building more of them in America if I
should live to return there.</p>
<p>In the morning it was found by the soundings, etc., that we were
near our port, but a thick fog hid the land from our sight. About
nine o'clock the fog began to rise, and seem'd to be lifted up from
the water like the curtain at a play-house, discovering underneath,
the town of Falmouth, the vessels in its harbor, and the fields
that surrounded it. This was a most pleasing spectacle to those who
had been so long without any other prospects than the uniform view
of a vacant ocean, and it gave us the more pleasure as we were now
free from the anxieties which the state of war occasion'd.</p>
<p>I set out immediately, with my son, for London, and we only
stopt a little by the way to view Stonehenge<SPAN name="FNanchor_116" id="FNanchor_116" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</SPAN> on Salisbury Plain, and Lord Pembroke's house
and gardens, with his very curious antiquities at Wilton. We
arrived in London the 27th of July, 1757.<SPAN name="FNanchor_117" id="FNanchor_117" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</SPAN></p>
<p>As soon as I was settled in a lodging Mr. Charles had provided
for me, I went to visit Dr. Fothergill, to whom I was strongly
recommended, and whose counsel respecting my proceedings I was
advis'd to obtain. He was against an immediate complaint to
government, and thought the proprietaries should first be
personally appli'd to, who might possibly be induc'd by the
interposition and persuasion of some private friends, to
accommodate matters amicably. I then waited on my old friend and
correspondent, Mr. Peter Collinson, who told me that John Hanbury,
the great Virginia merchant, had requested to be informed when I
should arrive, that he might carry me to Lord Granville's,<SPAN name=
"FNanchor_118" id="FNanchor_118" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</SPAN> who was then President of the Council and
wished to see me as soon as possible. I agreed to go with him the
next morning. Accordingly Mr. Hanbury called for me and took me in
his carriage to that nobleman's, who receiv'd me with great
civility; and after some questions respecting the present state of
affairs in America and discourse thereupon, he said to me: "You
Americans have wrong ideas of the nature of your constitution; you
contend that the king's instructions to his governors are not laws,
and think yourselves at liberty to regard or disregard them at your
own discretion. But those instructions are not like the pocket
instructions given to a minister going abroad, for regulating his
conduct in some trifling point of ceremony. They are first drawn up
by judges learned in the laws; they are then considered, debated,
and perhaps amended in Council, after which they are signed by the
king. They are then, so far as they relate to you, the <i>law of
the land</i>, for the king is the <span class="smcap">Legislator of
the Colonies</span>,"<SPAN name="FNanchor_119" id="FNanchor_119" /><SPAN href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</SPAN> I told his lordship
this was new doctrine to me. I had always understood from our
charters that our laws were to be made by our Assemblies, to be
presented indeed to the king for his royal assent, but that being
once given the king could not repeal or alter them. And as the
Assemblies could not make permanent laws without his assent, so
neither could he make a law for them without theirs. He assur'd me
I was totally mistaken. I did not think so, however, and his
lordship's conversation having a little alarm'd me as to what might
be the sentiments of the court concerning us, I wrote it down as
soon as I return'd to my lodgings. I recollected that about 20
years before, a clause in a bill brought into Parliament by the
ministry had propos'd to make the king's instructions laws in the
colonies, but the clause was thrown out by the Commons, for which
we adored them as our friends and friends of liberty, till by their
conduct towards us in 1765 it seem'd that they had refus'd that
point of sovereignty to the king only that they might reserve it
for themselves.</p>
<p>With his keen insight into human nature and his consequent
knowledge of American character, he foresaw the inevitable result
of such an attitude on the part of England. This conversation with
Grenville makes these last pages of the <i>Autobiography</i> one of
its most important parts.</p>
<p>After some days, Dr. Fothergill having spoken to the
proprietaries, they agreed to a meeting with me at Mr. T. Penn's
house in Spring Garden. The conversation at first consisted of
mutual declarations of disposition to reasonable accommodations,
but I suppose each party had its own ideas of what should be meant
by <i>reasonable</i>. We then went into consideration of our
several points of complaint, which I enumerated. The proprietaries
justify'd their conduct as well as they could, and I the
Assembly's. We now appeared very wide, and so far from each other
in our opinions as to discourage all hope of agreement. However, it
was concluded that I should give them the heads of our complaints
in writing, and they promis'd then to consider them. I did so soon
after, but they put the paper into the hands of their solicitor,
Ferdinand John Paris, who managed for them all their law business
in their great suit with the neighbouring proprietary of Maryland,
Lord Baltimore, which had subsisted 70 years, and wrote for them
all their papers and messages in their dispute with the Assembly.
He was a proud, angry man, and as I had occasionally in the answers
of the Assembly treated his papers with some severity, they being
really weak in point of argument and haughty in expression, he had
conceived a mortal enmity to me, which discovering itself whenever
we met, I declin'd the proprietary's proposal that he and I should
discuss the heads of complaint between our two selves, and refus'd
treating with anyone but them. They then by his advice put the
paper into the hands of the Attorney and Solicitor-General for
their opinion and counsel upon it, where it lay unanswered a year
wanting eight days, during which time I made frequent demands of an
answer from the proprietaries, but without obtaining any other than
that they had not yet received the opinion of the Attorney and
Solicitor-General. What it was when they did receive it I never
learnt, for they did not communicate it to me, but sent a long
message to the Assembly drawn and signed by Paris, reciting my
paper, complaining of its want of formality, as a rudeness on my
part, and giving a flimsy justification of their conduct, adding
that they should be willing to accommodate matters if the Assembly
would send out <i>some person of candour</i> to treat with them for
that purpose, intimating thereby that I was not such.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p318" id="p318" /> <SPAN href= "images/illus-035-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-035thumb.jpg" alt="We now appeared very wide, and so far from each other in our opinions as to discourage all hope of agreement" title= "We now appeared very wide, and so far from each other in our opinions as to discourage all hope of agreement" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"We now appeared very wide, and so far
from each other in our opinions as to discourage all hope of
agreement"</div>
<p>The want of formality or rudeness was, probably, my not having
address'd the paper to them with their assum'd titles of True and
Absolute Proprietaries of the Province of Pennsylvania, which I
omitted as not thinking it necessary in a paper, the intention of
which was only to reduce to a certainty by writing, what in
conversation I had delivered <i>viva voce</i>.</p>
<p>But during this delay, the Assembly having prevailed with Gov'r
Denny to pass an act taxing the proprietary estate in common with
the estates of the people, which was the grand point in dispute,
they omitted answering the message.</p>
<p>When this act however came over, the proprietaries, counselled
by Paris, determined to oppose its receiving the royal assent.
Accordingly they petitioned the king in Council, and a hearing was
appointed in which two lawyers were employ'd by them against the
act, and two by me in support of it. They alledg'd that the act was
intended to load the proprietary estate in order to spare those of
the people, and that if it were suffer'd to continue in force, and
the proprietaries, who were in odium with the people, left to their
mercy in proportioning the taxes, they would inevitably be ruined.
We reply'd that the act had no such intention, and would have no
such effect. That the assessors were honest and discreet men under
an oath to assess fairly and equitably, and that any advantage each
of them might expect in lessening his own tax by augmenting that of
the proprietaries was too trifling to induce them to perjure
themselves. This is the purport of what I remember as urged by both
sides, except that we insisted strongly on the mischievous
consequences that must attend a repeal, for that the money,
£100,000, being printed and given to the king's use, expended
in his service, and now spread among the people, the repeal would
strike it dead in their hands to the ruin of many, and the total
discouragement of future grants, and the selfishness of the
proprietors in soliciting such a general catastrophe, merely from a
groundless fear of their estate being taxed too highly, was
insisted on in the strongest terms. On this, Lord Mansfield, one of
the counsel, rose, and beckoning me took me into the clerk's
chamber, while the lawyers were pleading, and asked me if I was
really of opinion that no injury would be done the proprietary
estate in the execution of the act. I said certainly. "Then," says
he, "you can have little objection to enter into an engagement to
assure that point." I answer'd, "None at all." He then call'd in
Paris, and after some discourse, his lordship's proposition was
accepted on both sides; a paper to the purpose was drawn up by the
Clerk of the Council, which I sign'd with Mr. Charles, who was also
an Agent of the Province for their ordinary affairs, when Lord
Mansfield returned to the Council Chamber, where finally the law
was allowed to pass. Some changes were however recommended and we
also engaged they should be made by a subsequent law, but the
Assembly did not think them necessary; for one year's tax having
been levied by the act before the order of Council arrived, they
appointed a committee to examine the proceedings of the assessors,
and on this committee they put several particular friends of the
proprietaries. After a full enquiry, they unanimously sign'd a
report that they found the tax had been assess'd with perfect
equity.</p>
<p>The Assembly looked into my entering into the first part of the
engagement, as an essential service to the Province, since it
secured the credit of the paper money then spread over all the
country. They gave me their thanks in form when I return'd. But the
proprietaries were enraged at Governor Denny for having pass'd the
act, and turn'd him out with threats of suing him for breach of
instructions which he had given bond to observe. He, however,
having done it at the instance of the General, and for His
Majesty's service, and having some powerful interest at court,
despis'd the threats and they were never put in execution....
[unfinished]</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_111" id="Footnote_111" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></SPAN> Quarrel
between George II and his son, Frederick, Prince of Wales, who died
before his father.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_112" id="Footnote_112" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></SPAN> A satirical
poem by Alexander Pope directed against various contemporary
writers.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_113" id="Footnote_113" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></SPAN> William Pitt,
first Earl of Chatham (1708-1778), a great English statesman and
orator. Under his able administration, England won Canada from
France. He was a friend of America at the time of our
Revolution.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_114" id="Footnote_114" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></SPAN> This relation
illustrates the corruption that characterized English public life
in the eighteenth century. (See page <SPAN href="#pg308">308</SPAN>). It
was gradually overcome in the early part of the next century.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_115" id="Footnote_115" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></SPAN> A piece of
wood shaped and weighted so as to keep it stable when in the water.
To this is attached a line knotted at regular distances. By these
devices it is possible to tell the speed of a ship.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_116" id="Footnote_116" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></SPAN> A celebrated
prehistoric ruin, probably of a temple built by the early Britons,
near Salisbury, England. It consists of inner and outer circles of
enormous stones, some of which are connected by stone slabs.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_117" id="Footnote_117" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></SPAN> "Here
terminates the <i>Autobiography</i>, as published by Wm. Temple
Franklin and his successors. What follows was written in the last
year of Dr. Franklin's life, and was never before printed in
English."—Mr. Bigelow's note in his edition of 1868.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_118" id="Footnote_118" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></SPAN> George
Granville or Grenville (1712-1770). As English premier from 1763 to
1765, he introduced the direct taxation of the American Colonies
and has sometimes been called the immediate cause of the
Revolution.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_119" id="Footnote_119" /><SPAN href="#FNanchor_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></SPAN> This whole
passage shows how hopelessly divergent were the English and
American views on the relations between the mother country and her
colonies. Grenville here made clear that the Americans were to have
no voice in making or amending their laws. Parliament and the king
were to have absolute power over the colonies. No wonder Franklin
was alarmed by this new doctrine.</p>
</div>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG width-obs="25%" src= "images/illus-036-red.jpg" alt="Medal with inscription: BENJ. FRANLIN NATUS BOSTON XVII, JAN. MDCCVI." title= "Medal with inscription: BENJ. FRANLIN NATUS BOSTON XVII, JAN. MDCCVI." /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3>APPENDIX</h3>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="ELECTRICAL_KITE" id="ELECTRICAL_KITE" />ELECTRICAL
KITE</h4>
<div class="center"><span class="smcap">To Peter
Collinson</span></div>
<p class="right">[Philadelphia], Oct. 19, 1752.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sir,</span></p>
<p>As frequent mention is made in public papers from Europe of the
success of the <i>Philadelphia</i> experiment for drawing the
electric fire from clouds by means of pointed rods of iron erected
on high buildings, &c., it may be agreeable to the curious to
be informed, that the same experiment has succeeded in
<i>Philadelphia</i>, though made in a different and more easy
manner, which is as follows:</p>
<p>Make a small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms so
long as to reach to the four corners of a large, thin silk
handkerchief when extended; tie the corners of the handkerchief to
the extremities of the cross, so you have the body of a kite; which
being properly accommodated with a tail, loop, and string, will
rise in the air, like those made of paper; but this being of silk,
is fitter to bear the wet and wind of a thunder-gust without
tearing. To the top of the upright stick of the cross is to be
fixed a very sharp-pointed wire, rising a foot or more above the
wood. To the end of the twine, next the hand, is to be tied a silk
ribbon, and where the silk and twine join, a key may be fastened.
This kite is to be raised when a thunder-gust appears to be coming
on, and the person who holds the string must stand within a door or
window, or under some cover, so that the silk ribbon may not be
wet; and care must be taken that the twine does not touch the frame
of the door or window. As soon as any of the thunder clouds come
over the kite, the pointed wire will draw the electric fire from
them, and the kite, with all the twine will be electrified, and the
loose filaments of the twine will stand out every way and be
attracted by an approaching finger. And when the rain has wet the
kite and twine, so that it can conduct the electric fire freely,
you will find it stream out plentifully from the key on the
approach of your knuckle. At this key the phial may be charged; and
from electric fire thus obtained, spirits may be kindled, and all
the electric experiments be performed, which are usually done by
the help of a rubbed glass globe or tube, and thereby the sameness
of the electric matter with that of lightning completely
demonstrated.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">B. Franklin.</span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p328" id="p328" /> <SPAN href="images/illus-037-red.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/illus-037thumb.jpg" alt="You will find it stream out plentifully from the key on the approach of your knuckle" title= "You will find it stream out plentifully from the key on the approach of your knuckle" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">"You will find it stream out
plentifully from the key on the approach of your knuckle"</div>
<p class="new"> </p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="p330" id="p330" /> <SPAN href="images/img038.jpg"><ANTIMG src= "images/img038tb.jpg" alt="Father Abraham in his Study" title="" /></SPAN></div>
<div class="center_caption">Father <i>Abraham</i> in his <span class="smcap">Study.</span></div>
<p>From "Father Abraham's Speech," 1760. Reproduced from a copy at
the New York Public Library.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="THE_WAY_TO_WEALTH" id="THE_WAY_TO_WEALTH" />THE WAY TO
WEALTH</h4>
<p>(From "Father Abraham's Speech," forming the preface to Poor
<i>Richard's Almanac</i> for 1758.)</p>
<p>It would be thought a hard Government that should tax its People
one-tenth Part of their <i>Time</i>, to be employed in its Service.
But <i>Idleness</i> taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all
that is spent in absolute <i>Sloth</i>, or doing of nothing, with
that which is spent in idle Employments or Amusements, that amount
to nothing. <i>Sloth</i>, by bringing on Diseases, absolutely
shortens Life. <i>Sloth, like Rust, consumes faster than Labor
wears; while the used key is always bright, as Poor Richard says.
But dost thou love Life, then do not squander Time, for that's the
stuff Life is made of, as Poor Richard</i> says. How much more than
is necessary do we spend in sleep, forgetting that <i>The sleeping
Fox catches no Poultry</i>, and that <i>There will be sleeping
enough in the Grave</i>, as <i>Poor Richard</i> says.</p>
<p><i>If Time be of all Things the most precious, wasting Time must
be, as Poor Richard</i> says, <i>the</i> <i>greatest
Prodigality</i>; since, as he elsewhere tells us, <i>Lost Time is
never found again; and what we call Time enough, always proves
little enough</i>: Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the
Purpose; so by Diligence shall we do more with less Perplexity.
<i>Sloth makes all Things difficult, but Industry all easy</i>, as
<i>Poor Richard</i> says; and <i>He that riseth late must trot all
Day, and shall scarce overtake his Business at Night; while
Laziness travels so slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him</i>, as
we read in <i>Poor Richard</i>, who adds, <i>Drive thy Business,
let not that drive thee</i>; and <i>Early to Bed, and early to
rise, makes a Man healthy, wealthy, and wise.</i></p>
<p><i>Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon Hope will die
fasting.</i></p>
<p><i>There are no Gains without Pains.</i></p>
<p><i>He that hath a Trade hath an Estate; and he that hath a
Calling, hath an Office of Profit and Honor</i>; but then the
<i>Trade</i> must be worked at, and the <i>Calling</i> well
followed, or neither the <i>Estate</i> nor the <i>Office</i> will
enable us to pay our Taxes.</p>
<p>What though you have found no Treasure, nor has any rich
Relation left you a Legacy, <i>Diligence is the Mother of
Good-luck</i>, as <i>Poor Richard</i> says, <i>and God gives all
Things to Industry</i>.</p>
<p><i>One To-day is worth two To-morrows</i>, and farther, <i>Have
you somewhat to do To-morrow, do it To-day</i>.</p>
<p>If you were a Servant, would you not be ashamed that a good
Master should catch you idle? Are you then your own Master, <i>be
ashamed to catch yourself idle</i>.</p>
<p>Stick to it steadily; and you will see great Effects, for
<i>Constant Dropping wears away Stones</i>, and by <i>Diligence and
Patience the Mouse ate in two the Cable</i>; and <i>Little Strokes
fell great Oaks</i>.</p>
<p>Methinks I hear some of you say, <i>Must a Man afford himself no
Leisure</i>? I will tell thee, my friend, what <i>Poor Richard</i>
says, <i>Employ thy Time well, if thou meanest to gain Leisure;
and, since thou art not sure of a Minute, throw not away an
Hour</i>. Leisure, is Time for doing something useful; this Leisure
the diligent Man will obtain, but the lazy Man never; so that, as
<i>Poor Richard</i> says, <i>A Life of Leisure and a Life of
Laziness are two things</i>.</p>
<p><i>Keep thy Shop, and thy Shop will keep thee</i>; and again,
<i>If you would have your business done, go; if not, send.</i></p>
<p>If you would have a faithful Servant, and one that you like,
serve yourself.</p>
<p><i>A little Neglect may breed great Mischief:</i> adding, <i>for
want of a Nail the Shoe was lost; for want of a Shoe the Horse was
lost; and for want of a Horse the Rider was lost, being overtaken
and slain by the Enemy; all for the want of Care about a Horse-shoe
Nail</i>.</p>
<p>So much for Industry, my Friends, and Attention to one's own
Business; but to these we must add <i>Frugality</i>.</p>
<p><i>What maintains one Vice, would bring up two Children</i>. You
may think perhaps, that a <i>little</i> Tea, or a <i>little</i>
Punch now and then, Diet a <i>little</i> more costly, Clothes a
<i>little</i> finer, and a <i>little</i> Entertainment now and
then, can be no <i>great</i> Matter; but remember what <i>Poor
Richard</i> says, <i>Many a Little makes a Mickle.</i></p>
<p><i>Beware of little expenses; A small Leak will sink a great
Ship</i>; and again, <i>Who Dainties love, shall Beggars prove</i>;
and moreover, <i>Fools make Feasts, and wise Men eat them.</i></p>
<p>Buy what thou hast no Need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy
Necessaries.</p>
<p>If you would know the Value of Money, go and try to borrow some;
for, he that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing.</p>
<p>The second Vice is Lying, the first is running in Debt.</p>
<p><i>Lying rides upon Debt's Back</i>.</p>
<p>Poverty often deprives a Man of all Spirit and Virtue: '<i>Tis
hard for an empty Bag to stand upright</i>.</p>
<p>And now to conclude, <i>Experience keeps a dear School, but
Fools will learn in no other, and scarce in that</i>; for it is
true, <i>we may give Advice, but we cannot give Conduct</i>, as
<i>Poor Richard</i> says: However, remember this, <i>They that
won't be counseled, can't be helped</i>, as <i>Poor Richard</i>
says: and farther, That <i>if you will not hear Reason, she'll
surely rap your Knuckles</i>.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="THE_WHISTLE" id="THE_WHISTLE" />THE WHISTLE</h4>
<div class="center"><span class="smcap">To Madame
Brillon</span></div>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Passy</span>, November 10,
1779.</p>
<p>I am charmed with your description of Paradise, and with your
plan of living there; and I approve much of your conclusion, that,
in the meantime, we should draw all the good we can from this
world. In my opinion, we might all draw more good from it than we
do, and suffer less evil, if we would take care not to give too
much for whistles. For to me it seems, that most of the unhappy
people we meet with, are become so by neglect of that caution.</p>
<p>You ask what I mean? You love stories, and will excuse my
telling one of myself.</p>
<p>When I was a child of seven year old, my friends, on a holiday,
filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they
sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a
<i>whistle</i>, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy,
I voluntarily offered and gave all my money for one. I then came
home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my
<i>whistle</i>, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and
sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me
I had given four times as much for it as it was worth; put me in
mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the
money; and laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with
vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the
<i>whistle</i> gave me pleasure.</p>
<p>This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression
continuing on my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy
some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, <i>Don't give too much
for the whistle</i>; and I saved my money.</p>
<p>As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of
men, I thought I met with many, very many, who <i>gave too much for
the whistle</i>.</p>
<p>When I saw one too ambitious of court favor, sacrificing his
time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue,
and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself,
<i>This man gives too much for his whistle</i>.</p>
<p>When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing
himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and
ruining them by neglect, <i>He pays, indeed</i>, said I, <i>too
much for his whistle</i>.</p>
<p>If I knew a miser who gave up every kind of comfortable living,
all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his
fellow citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the
sake of accumulating wealth, <i>Poor man</i>, said I, <i>you pay
too much for your whistle</i>.</p>
<p>When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable
improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal
sensations, and ruining his health in their pursuit, <i>Mistaken
man</i>, said I, <i>you are providing pain for yourself, instead of
pleasure; you give too much for your whistle</i>.</p>
<p>If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses,
fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he
contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, <i>Alas</i>! say
I, <i>he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle</i>.</p>
<p>When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an
ill-natured brute of a husband, <i>What a pity</i>, say I, <i>that
she should pay so much for a whistle</i>!</p>
<p>In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind
are brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the
value of things, and by their <i>giving too much for their
whistles</i>.</p>
<p>Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy people, when I
consider, that, with all this wisdom of which I am boasting, there
are certain things in the world so tempting, for example, the
apples of King John, which happily are not to be bought; for if
they were put to sale by auction, I might very easily be led to
ruin myself in the purchase, and find that I had once more given
too much for the <i>whistle</i>.</p>
<p>Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours very sincerely
and with unalterable affection,</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">B. Franklin.</span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h4><SPAN name="A_LETTER_TO_SAMUEL_MATHER" id="A_LETTER_TO_SAMUEL_MATHER" />A LETTER TO SAMUEL MATHER</h4>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Passy</span>, May 12,
1784.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Revd Sir,</span></p>
<p>It is now more than 60 years since I left Boston, but I remember
well both your father and grandfather, having heard them both in
the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. The last time I saw your
father was in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him after my
first trip to Pennsylvania. He received me in his library, and on
my taking leave showed me a shorter way out of the house through a
narrow passage, which was crossed by a beam overhead. We were still
talking as I withdrew, he accompanying me behind, and I turning
partly towards him, when he said hastily, "<i>Stoop, stoop!</i>" I
did not understand him, till I felt my head hit against the beam.
He was a man that never missed any occasion of giving instruction,
and upon this he said to me, "<i>You are young, and have the world
before you; stoop as you go through it, and you will miss many hard
thumps</i>." This advice, thus beat into my head, has frequently
been of use to me; and I often think of it, when I see pride
mortified, and misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying
their heads too high.</p>
<p class="right"><span class="smcap">B. Franklin.</span></p>
<div class="center">THE END</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3><SPAN name="BIBLIOGRAPHY" id="BIBLIOGRAPHY" />BIBLIOGRAPHY</h3>
<p>The last and most complete edition of Franklin's works is that
by the late Professor Albert H. Smyth, published in ten volumes by
the Macmillan Company, New York, under the title, <i>The Writings
of Benjamin Franklin</i>. The other standard edition is the
<i>Works of Benjamin Franklin</i> by John Bigelow (New York, 1887).
Mr. Bigelow's first edition of the <i>Autobiography</i> in one
volume was published by the J. B. Lippincott Company of
Philadelphia in 1868. The life of Franklin as a writer is well
treated by J. B. McMaster in a volume of <i>The American Men of
Letters Series</i>; his life as a statesman and diplomat, by J. T.
Morse, <i>American Statesmen Series</i>, one volume; Houghton,
Mifflin Company publish both books. A more exhaustive account of
the life and times of Franklin may be found in James Parton's
<i>Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin</i> (2 vols., New York,
1864). Paul Leicester Ford's <i>The Many-Sided Franklin</i> is a
most chatty and readable book, replete with anecdotes and
excellently and fully illustrated. An excellent criticism by
Woodrow Wilson introduces an edition of the <i>Autobiography</i> in
<i>The Century Classics</i> (Century Co., New York, 1901).
Interesting magazine articles are those of E. E. Hale, <i>Christian
Examiner</i>, lxxi, 447; W. P. Trent, <i>McClure's Magazine</i>,
viii, 273; John Hay, <i>The Century Magazine</i>, lxxi, 447.</p>
<p>See also the histories of American literature by C. F.
Richardson, Moses Coit Tyler, Brander Matthews, John Nichol, and
Barrett Wendell, as well as the various encyclopedias. An excellent
bibliography of Franklin is that of Paul Leicester Ford, entitled
<i>A List of Books Written by, or Relating to Benjamin Franklin</i>
(New York, 1889).</p>
<p>The following list of Franklin's works contains the more
interesting publications, together with the dates of first
issue.</p>
<table width="100%" summary="Publications" border="0" cellpadding=
"0" cellspacing="0">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1722.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Dogood Papers.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">Letters in the style of Addison's <i>Spectator</i>,
contributed to James Franklin's newspaper and signed "Silence
Dogood."</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1729.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>The Busybody.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">A series of essays published in Bradford's
Philadelphia <i>Weekly Mercury</i>, six of which only are ascribed
to Franklin. They are essays on morality, philosophy and politics,
similar to the <i>Dogood Papers</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1729.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>A Modest Enquiry into the Nature and Necessity of
a Paper Currency.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1732.<br/>
to<br/>
1757.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Prefaces to Poor Richard's Almanac.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">Among these are <i>Hints for those that would be
Rich</i>, 1737; and <i>Plan for saving one hundred thousand pounds
to New Jersey, 1756</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1743.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>A Proposal for Promoting Useful Knowledge Among
the British Plantations in America.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">"This paper appears to contain the first
suggestion, in any public form, for an <i>American Philosophical
Society</i>." Sparks.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1744.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>An Account of the New Invented Pennsylvania
Fire-Places.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1749.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth in
Pennsylvania.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">Contains the plan for the school which later became
the University of Pennsylvania.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1752.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Electrical Kite.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">A description of the famous kite experiment, first
written in a letter to Peter Collinson, dated Oct. 19, 1752, which
was published later in the same year in <i>The Gentleman's
Magazine</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1754.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Plan of Union.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">A plan for the union of the colonies presented to
the colonial convention at Albany.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1755.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>A Dialogue Between X, Y and Z.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">An appeal to enlist in the provincial army for the
defense of Pennsylvania.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1758.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Father Abraham's Speech.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">Published as a preface to Poor Richard's Almanac
and gathering into one writing the maxims of Poor Richard, which
had already appeared in previous numbers of the Almanac. <i>The
Speech</i> was afterwards published in pamphlet form as the <i>Way
to Wealth</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1760.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Of the Means of disposing the enemy to
Peace.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">A satirical plea for procecution of the war against
France,</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1760.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>The Interest of Great Britain Considered, with
regard to her Colonies, and the Acquisitions of Canada and
Guadaloupe.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1764.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Cool Thoughts on the Present Situation of our
Public Affairs.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">A pamphlet favoring a Royal Government for
Pennsylvania in exchange for that of the Proprietors.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1766.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>The Examination of Doctor Benjamin Franklin,
etc., in The British House of Commons, Relative to The Repeal of
The American Stamp Act.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1766.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Rules by which A Great Empire May Be Reduced to a
Small One.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">Some twenty satirical rules embodying the line of
conduct England was pursuing with America.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1773.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>An Edict of The King of Prussia.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">A satire in which the King of Prussia was made to
treat England as England was treating America because England was
originally settled by Germans.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1777.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Comparison of Great Britain and the United States
in Regard to the Basis of Credit in The Two Countries.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">One of several similar pamphlets written to effect
loans for the American cause.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1782.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>On the Theory of the Earth.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">The best of Franklin's papers on geology.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1782.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Letter purporting to emanate from a petty German
Prince and to be addressed to his officer in Command in
America.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1785.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>On the Causes and Cure of Smoky Chimneys.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1786.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Retort Courteous.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Sending Felons to America.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">Answers to the British clamor for the payment of
American debts.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1789.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Address to the Public from the Pennsylvania
Society for Promoting Abolition of Slavery.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1789.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>An Account of the Supremest Court of Judicature
in Pennsylvania, viz. The Court of the Press.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1790.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Martin's Account of his Consulship.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">A parody of a pro-slavery speech in Congress.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1791.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1"><i>Autobiography.</i></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">The first edition.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1818.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>Bagatelles.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">The Bagatelles were first published in 1818 in
William Temple Franklin's edition of his grandfather's works. The
following are the most famous of these essays and the dates when
they were written:</p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table width="100%" summary="Publications" border="0" cellpadding=
"0" cellspacing="0">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1774?</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new"><i>A Parable Against Persecution.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new1">Franklin called this the LI Chapter of Genesis.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1774?</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new"><i>A Parable on Brotherly Love.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty" rowspan="2"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1778</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new"><i>The Ephemera, an Emblem of Human Life.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new1">A new rendition of an earlier essay on Human
Vanity.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1779</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new"><i>The Story of the Whistle.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1779?</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new"><i>The Levee.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty" rowspan="2"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1779?</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new"><i>Proposed New Version of the Bible.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt0">
<p class="new1">Part of the first chapter of <i>Job</i>
modernized.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a">(1779</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new">Published) <i>The Morals of Chess.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1780?</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new"><i>The Handsome and Deformed Leg.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_empty" rowspan="2"> </td>
<td class="cell_lt1a" rowspan="2">1780</td>
<td class="cell_lt10">
<p class="new"><i>Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new1">(Published in 1802.)</p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table width="100%" summary="Publications" border="0" cellpadding=
"0" cellspacing="0">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1802.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>A Petition of the Left Hand.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="cell_lt1a">1806.</td>
<td class="cell_lt1">
<p class="new"><i>The Art of Procuring Pleasant Dreams.</i></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figleft"><ANTIMG src= "images/img039.jpg" alt="MEDAL GIVEN BY THE BOSTON PUBLIC SCHOOLS FROM THE FRANKLIN FUND" title= "" /></div>
<div class="figright"><ANTIMG src= "images/img040.jpg" alt="MEDAL GIVEN BY THE BOSTON PUBLIC SCHOOLS FROM THE FRANKLIN FUND" title= "" /></div>
<div class="center"><br/>MEDAL GIVEN BY THE BOSTON PUBLIC SCHOOLS FROM
THE FRANKLIN FUND</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
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