« ZurückWeiter »
some weeks, endeavoured to reduce them into the best order before I began to form the full sentences and complete the subject. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of the thoughts. By comparing my work with the original I discovered many faults and corrected them; but I sometimes had the pleasure to fancy that in certain particulars of small consequence, I had been fortunate enough to improve the method or the language, and this encouraged me to think, that I might in time come to be a tolerable English writer; of which I was extremely ambitious. The time I allotted for writing exercises, and for reading, was at night, or before work began in the morning, or on Sundays, when I contrived to be in the printing house, avoiding as much as I could the constant attendance at public worship, which my father used to exact from me when I was under his care; and which I still continued to consider a duty, though I could not afford time to practise it .
When about sixteen 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 inconvenience, 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 of 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 was often no more than a biscuit, or a slice of bread, an 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 generally attend temperance in eating and drinking. Now it was that being on some occasion made ashamed of my ignorance in figures, which I had twice failed learning when at school, I took Cocker's book on Arithmetic, and went through the whole by myself with the greatest ease. I also read Seller's and Sturny's book on Navigation, which made me acquainted with the little geometry it contains, but I never proceeded far in that science. I read about this time "Locke on Human Understanding," and "The Art of Thinking," by Messrs. du Port Royal.
While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an English grammar (I think it was Greenwood's) having at the end of it two little sketches, on the Arts of Rhetoric and Logic, the latter finishing with a dispute in the Socratic method. And soon after I procured " Xenophon's Memorable Things of Socrates" wherein there are many examples of the same method. I was charmed with it, adopted it, dropt my abrupt contradiction, and positive argumentation, and put on the humble enquirer. And being then from reading Shaftesbury and Collins made a doubter, as I already was in many points of our religious doctrines, I found this method the safest for myself and very embarrassing to those against whom I used it; therefore I took delight in it, practised 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 continued 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 advance any thing that may possibly be disputed, the words certainly,—undoubtedly, or any others that give the air of positiveness to an opinion; but rather say, I conceive, or apprehend a thing to be so and so; It appears to me, or I should not think it so or so, for such and such reasons, or I imagine it to be so, or, It is so if lam not mistaken. This habit, I believe, has been of great advantage to me, when I have had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and persuade men into measures that I have been from time to time engaged in promoting. And as the chief ends of conversation are to inform, or to be informed; to please, or to persuade; I wish well-meaning and 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 most of those purposes for which speech was given to us. In fact, if you wish to instruct others, a positive dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments, may occasion opposition, and prevent a candid attention. If you desire instruction and improvement from others, you should not at the same time express yourself fixed in your present opinions: modest and sensible men, who do not love disputation, will leave you undisturbed in the possession of your errors. In adopting such a manner you can seldom expect to please your hearers, or obtain the concurrence you desire. Pope judiciously observes,
"Men must be taught, as if you taught them not,
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot." He also recommends it to us,
"To speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence."
And he might have joined with this line, that which he has coupled with another, I think, less properly,
"For want of modesty is want of sense." If you ask why less properly, I must repeat the lines,
"Immodest words admit of no defence,
For want of modesty is want of sense." "h
Now, is not the want of sense (where a man is so unfortunate as to want it) some apology for his want of modesty? and would not the lines stand more justly thus?
"Immodest words admit but this defence,
This, however, I should submit to better judgments.
My brother had in 1720 or 21 begun to print a newspaper. It was the second that appeared in America, and was called the New England Courant. The only one before it was the Boston News Letter. I remember his being dissuaded by some of his friends from the undertaking, as not likely to succeed, one newspaper being in their judgment enough for America. At this time, 1771, there are not less than five and twenty. He went on, however, with the undertaking; I was employed to carry the papers to the customers, after having worked in composing the types, and printing off the sheets. He had some ingenious men among his friends, who amused themselves by writing little pieces for this paper, which gained 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 any thing 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 at night under the door of the printing-house. It was found in the morning, and communicated to his writing friends when they called 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, that I was rather lucky in my judges, and that they were not really so very good as I then believed them to be. Encouraged however by this attempt, I wrote and sent in the same way to the press several other pieces, that were equally approved, and I kept my secret till all my fund of sense for such performances was exhausted, and then discovered it, when I began to be considered a little more by my brother's acquaintance. However that did not quite please him, as he thought it tended to make me too vain. This might be one occasion of the differences 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 degraded me too much in some he required 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 extremely 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. Perhaps this harsh and tyrannical treatment of me, might be a means of impressing me with the aversion to arbitrary power, that has stuck to me through my whole life. One of the pieces in our newspaper on some political point, which I have now forgotten, gave offence to the assembly. He was taken up, censured, and imprisoned for a month by the speaker's warrant, I suppose because he would not discover the author. I too was taken up and examined before the council; but, though 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. 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 youth that had a turn for libelling and satire. My brother's discharge was accompanied with an order (and a very odd one) that "James Franklin should no longer print the newspaper, called The New England Courant." On a consultation held in our printing-office amongst his friends, what he should do in this conjuncture, it was proposed to elude the order, by changing the name of the paper. But my brother seeing inconveniences in this, came to a conclusion, as a better way, to let the paper in future be printed in the name of Benjamin Franklin: and in order to avoid the censure of the assembly, that might fall on him, as still printing it by his apprentice, he contrived and consented that my old indenture should be returned to me with a discharge on the back of it, to shew in case of necessity; and in order to secure to him the benefit of my service, I should sign new indentures for the remainder of my time, which were to be kept private. A very flimsy scheme it was: however it was immediately executed, and the paper was printed accordingly, under my name, for several months. At length, a fresh difference aris
ing 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-natured man: perhaps I was too saucy and provoking.
When he found Iwould 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 refused 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 inclined 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 staid, soon bring myself into scrapes; and further, that my indiscreet disputations about religion, began to make me pointed at with horror by good people, as an infidel or atheist. I concluded, therefore, to remove to New York; 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 my flight. He agreed with the captain of a New York sloop to take me, under pretence of my being a young man of his acquaintance, that had had an intrigue with a girl of bad character, whose parents would compel me to marry her, and that I could neither appear or come away publicly. I sold my books to raise a little money, was taken on board the sloop privately, had a fair wind, and in three days found myself at New York, near 300 miles from my home, at the age of 17, without the least recommendation, or knowledge of any person in the place, and very little money in my pocket.
The inclination I had had for the sea was by this time done away, or I might now have gratified it. But having another profession, and conceiving myself a pretty good workman, I offered my services to a printer of the place, old Mr. W. Bradford (who had been the first printer in Pennsylvania, but had removed thence,in consequence of a quarrel with the governor, Geo. Keith.) He could give me no employment, having little to do, and hands enough already; but he said, "my son at Philadelphia has lately lost his principal hand, Aquila Rose, by death. If you go thither, I believe he may employ you." Philadelphia was 100 miles further; I set out how. ever in a boat for Amboy, leaving my chest and things to follow me round by sea. In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that tore our rotten sails to pieces, prevented our getting into the Kill, and drove us upon Long-Island.