A CHANGE.
Benjamin had not been in school quite a year, when his father saw
plainly that he would not be able to defray the expense of educating
him.
"I might keep him along for the present," said he to his wife, "but I
am satisfied that I cannot carry him through. My family expenses are
now very great, and they will be still larger. It will make
considerable difference in my expenses whether Benjamin is kept at
school, or assists me by the labour of his hands."
"I am not surprised at all at your conclusion," replied Mrs. Franklin.
"It is no more than I have expected, as I have before intimated.
Parents must be better off than we are to be able to send a son to
college."
"If they have as many children to support, you might add," said Mr.
Franklin. "I could easily accomplish it with no larger family on my
hands than some of my neighbours have."
"Do you intend to take Benjamin away from school at once?"
"Yes! I have very reluctantly come to the conclusion that I must. It
is contrary to all my desires, but necessity compels me to do it."
"I am sorry for Benjamin," continued Mrs. Franklin, "for he has become
much interested in his school, and it will be a great disappointment
to him."
"I thought of that much before coming to my present decision; but
there is no alternative. Providence seems to indicate, now, the course
I should take, and I am the more willing to follow, because the times
do not hold out so much encouragement to those who would enter the
service of the Church. There are many trials and hardships to be met
in the work, and at the present day, they seem to be peculiar."
"There are trials almost anywhere in these times," said Mrs. Franklin,
"and I suppose we ought to bear them with fortitude. So far as that is
concerned, I think Benjamin will not escape them, let him follow what
business he may."
"True, very true, and I trust that I desire to place him where God
would have me; but he has certainly hedged up his way to the
ministry."
This subject was very thoroughly considered before it was opened to
Benjamin. His father was too anxious to educate him to change his
purpose without much patient thought and circumspection. Nothing but
absolute necessity induced him to come to this decision. The hard hand
of poverty was laid upon him, and he must have "bread before learning"
for his children.
One evening, as the school term was drawing to a close, Mr. Franklin
said to Benjamin--
"I think I shall be under the necessity of taking you away from school
at the close of the term. The times are so hard, that I find, with my
best exertions, I can do little more than supply you with food and
clothes."
"And not go to school any more?" anxiously inquired Benjamin.
"Perhaps not. Such appears to be your prospect now, though I cannot
say that God may not open a way hereafter; I hope he will. You are but
nine years old, and there is time yet for a way to be provided."
"Why can I not attend school till I am old enough to help you?"
"You are old enough to help me now. I could find a plenty for you to
do every day, so that you could make yourself very useful."
In those days boys were put to work much earlier than they are now.
They had very small opportunities for acquiring knowledge, and the
boys who did not go to school after they were ten years old were more
in number than those who did. Besides, the schools were very poor in
comparison with those of the present age. They offered very limited
advantages to the young. It was not unusual, therefore, for lads as
young as Benjamin to be made to work.
"But I do not intend to set you to work immediately," continued Mr.
Franklin. "You ought to give some attention to penmanship and
arithmetic, and I shall send you to Mr. Brownwell's writing-school for
a season."
"I shall like that, for I want to know how to write well. Some of the
boys no older than I am have been to his school some time."
"It is equally important that you learn to cipher, and Mr. Brownwell
is an excellent teacher of arithmetic. It will not take you many
months to become a good penman under his tuition, and to acquire
considerable knowledge of numbers."
"I care more about writing than I do about arithmetic," said Benjamin.
"I don't think I shall like arithmetic very well."
"Boys have to study some things they don't like," responded his
father. "It is the only way they can qualify themselves for
usefulness. You would not make much of an appearance in the world
without some acquaintance with numbers."
"I know that," said Benjamin; "and I shall try to master it, even if I
do not like it. I am willing to do what you think is best."
"I hope you will always be as willing to yield to my judgment. It is a
good sign for a boy to accept cheerfully the plans of his father, who
has had more experience."
Benjamin was generally very prompt to obey his parents, even when he
did not exactly see the necessity of their commands. He understood
full well that obedience was a law of the household, which could not
be violated with impunity; therefore he wisely obeyed. His father was
a religious man, puritanical and even severe in his views and habits;
a walk was never allowed on Sunday, and "going to meeting" was one of
the inexorable rules of the family.
Benjamin was reared under such family regulations. He was expected to
regard them with becoming filial respect. Nor did he grow restless and
impatient under them, nor cherish less affection for his father in
consequence. We have no reason to believe that he sought to evade
them; and there is no doubt that the influence of such discipline was
good in forming his character. He certainly loved and respected his
father as long as he lived. Many years thereafter, when his father was
old and infirm, he was wont to perform frequent journeys from
Philadelphia to Boston, to visit him. It was on one of these journeys
that he rebuked the inquisitiveness of a landlord, by requesting him,
as soon as he entered his tavern, to assemble all the members of his
family together, as he had something important to communicate. The
landlord proceeded to gratify him, and as soon as they were brought
together in one room, he said, "My name is Benjamin Franklin; I am a
printer by trade; I live, when at home, in Philadelphia; in Boston I
have a father, a good old man, who taught me, when I was a boy, to
read my book, and say my prayers; I have ever since thought it was my
duty to visit and pay my respects to such a father, and I am on that
errand to Boston now. This is all I can recollect at present of myself
that I think worth telling you. But if you can think of anything else
that you wish to know about me, I beg you to out with it at once, that
I may answer, and so give you an opportunity to get me something to
eat, for I long to be on my journey that I may return as soon as
possible to my family and business, where I most of all delight to
be." This was a keen rebuke to a landlord who was disposed to be
inquisitive, and interrogate his guests in an ungentlemanly way. But
we have cited the incident to show that the filial love and respect
which Benjamin had for his parents continued as long as they lived.
The last act of affection and reverence that he could possibly perform
to them was cheerfully made. It was the erection of a marble stone
over their remains in Boston, bearing the following inscription:--
"JOSIAH FRANKLIN
And
ABIAH his wife
Lie here interred.
They lived lovingly together in wedlock
Fifty-five years;
And without an estate, or any gainful employment,
By constant labour, and honest industry
(With God's blessing)
Maintained a large family comfortably;
And brought up thirteen children and seven grandchildren
Reputably.
From this instance, reader,
Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,
And distrust not Providence.
He was a pious and prudent man,
She a discreet and virtuous woman.
Their youngest son,
In filial regard to their memory,
Places this stone.
J. F. born 1645; died 1744. Æt. 89.
A. F. born 1667; died 1752. Æt. 85."
This stone had become so dilapidated in 1827, that the citizens of
Boston supplied its place with a granite obelisk, on which the
foregoing inscription may still be read.
It is good for boys, who are very likely to want their own way, to be
obliged to obey exact rules in the family. It is a restraint upon
their evil tendencies that tells well upon their riper years. It was
to such an influence that Sir Robert Peel felt much indebted for his
success in life. As an illustration of the obedience he was obliged to
practise, in common with his brothers, he relates, that, in his
youth, a comrade called one day to solicit their company upon some
excursion. He was a young man of handsome address, intelligent, smart,
and promising, though quite accustomed to enjoy much pastime. He was a
fashionable young man for the times, wearing "dark brown hair, tied
behind with blue ribbon; clear, mirthful eyes; boots which reached
above his knees; a broad-skirted, scarlet coat, with gold lace on the
cuffs, the collar, and the skirts; and a long waistcoat of blue silk.
His breeches were buckskin; his hat was three-cornered, set jauntily
higher on the right than on the left side." His name was Harry
Garland. To his request that William, Edmund, and Robert might go with
him, their father replied, "No, they cannot go out." Although the boys
earnestly desired to go, they dared say nothing against their father's
emphatic "No." He had work for them to do, and he never allowed
pleasure to usurp the time for labour. The result is recorded on the
page of English history. The three brothers of the Peel family became
renowned in their country's brilliant progress. Harry Garland, the
idle, foppish youth, became a ruined spendthrift. In this way the
language of inspiration is verified. "Honour thy father and mother
(which is the first commandment with promise), that it may be well
with thee." The providence of God appears to make it well with the
children who obey the commandment. Not the least of their reward is
the respect and confidence of mankind which their obedience secures.
Men universally admire to witness deeds that are prompted by true
filial love. Such an act as that of the great engineer, George
Stephenson, who took the first thirty pounds he possessed, saved from
a year's wages, and paid off his blind old father's debts, and then
removed both father and mother to a comfortable tenement at
Killingworth, where he supported them by the labour of his hands,
awakens our admiration, and leads us to expect that the Divine
blessing will rest upon the author.
When the statue of Franklin was inaugurated, in 1856, a barouche
appeared in the procession that carried eight brothers, all of whom
received Franklin medals at the Mayhew School in their boyhood, sons
of the late Mr. John Hall. They were all known to fame for their worth
of character and wide influence. As the barouche in which they rode
came into State Street, from Merchants' Row, these brothers all rose
up in the carriage, uncovered their heads, and thus remained while
passing a window at which their excellent and revered mother sat,--an
act of filial regard so impressive and beautiful as to fill the hearts
of beholders with profound respect for the affectionate sons.
Benjamin was taken away from school, agreeably to his father's
decision, and sent to Mr. Brownwell, to perfect himself in arithmetic
and penmanship. Less than a year he had attended the grammar-school,
with little or no prospect of returning to his studies. But the
disappointment was somewhat alleviated by the advantages offered at
Mr. Brownwell's writing class. Here he made rapid progress in
penmanship, though he failed in mastering the science of number. He
had more taste, and perhaps tact, for penmanship than he had for
arithmetical rules and problems, and this may account for the
difference of his improvement in the two branches.
We should have remarked that Benjamin endeared himself to his teacher
while he was a member of the public school, and it was with regret
that the latter parted with his studious pupil. His close attention to
his duties, and his habitual good deportment, in connection with his
progress, made him such a scholar as teachers love.