FIRST LITERARY ENTERPRISE.
"What have you there?" inquired James, one day, looking over
Benjamin's shoulder at some composition which he held in his hand.
"Ay! poetry, is it? Then you are a poet, are you? Let me read it."
Benjamin rather hesitated to exhibit the first attempts of his muse to
fly, but James was determined to read it, and so he gave it up to him,
saying, "I was only seeing what I could do."
The fact was, Benjamin had been reading poetry, and, having a little
of its spirit in his own nature, he was tempted to try his ability at
writing some.
"That is really good," said James, after he had read it; "not quite
equal to Virgil or Homer, but very good for a printer-boy to write.
Have you any other pieces?"
"Two or three more," answered Benjamin, somewhat encouraged by his
brother's commendation; "but they are not worth reading."
"Produce them," said James, "and I will tell you what they are worth."
Whereupon Benjamin took two or three more from his pockets, which
James read with evident satisfaction.
"I tell you what it is, Benjamin," said James after having read them
all, "you can write something worth printing if you try; and if you
will undertake it, you may print and sell a sheet in the streets. I
have no doubt that it would sell well."
"I will see what I can do," replied Benjamin, "though I suspect my
poetry won't read very well in print."
Benjamin was not long in producing two street ballads, better,
perhaps, than anything he had written before, but still susceptible of
very great improvement. One was entitled "The Lighthouse Tragedy," and
was founded on the shipwreck of Captain Worthilake and his two
daughters. The other was a sailor's song, on the capture of the famous
"Teach," or "Bluebeard," the pirate. James read them with approbation.
"Now," said he, "you shall put them into type, and sell them about the
town, if you are willing. I have no doubt that a good number of them
may be disposed of."
"How many copies of them would you print?" inquired Benjamin.
"We can print a few to begin with, and let the type remain standing
until we see how they go. Then we shall run no risk."
"Shall I do it immediately?"
"As soon as you can," answered James. "The quicker the better."
Benjamin was not long in printing the two ballads, and having them
ready for sale. Under the direction of his brother, he went forth, in
due time, to offer them about the town. Whether he cried them about
the streets, as the newsboys do the daily papers now, we have no means
of knowing. But he met with very good success, particularly in the
sale of the first, "The Lighthouse Tragedy." That commemorated an
event of recent occurrence, and which excited much public feeling and
sympathy at the time, so that people were quite prepared to purchase.
It sold even beyond his expectations, and his success inflated his
vanity somewhat. It caused him to believe, almost, that he was a
genuine poet, and that distinction and a fortune were before him. If
he had not been confronted by his father on the subject, it is
possible that the speculation might have proved a serious injury to
him. But his father learned of his enterprise, and called him to an
account. Perhaps he stepped into his shop, as he was selling them
about town, and gave him a copy. At any rate, his father learned the
fact, and the following interview will show what he thought of it.
"I am ashamed to see you engaged in such a business, Benjamin," said
he.
"Why so, father?"
"Because it is not an honourable business. You are not a poet, and
can write nothing worthy of being printed."
"James approved of the pieces," said Benjamin, "and proposed that I
should print and sell them."
"James is not a judge of poetry," replied his father. "It is wretched
stuff, and I am ashamed that you are known as the author. Look here,
let me show you wherein it is defective;" and here Mr. Franklin began
to read it over aloud, and to criticise it. He was a man of sound
sense, and competent to expose the faults of such a composition. He
proceeded with his criticisms, without sparing the young author's
feelings at all, until Benjamin himself began to be sorry that he had
undertaken the enterprise.
"There, I want you should promise me," said his father, "that you will
never deal in such wares again, and that you will stick to your
business of setting up type."
"Perhaps I may improve by practice," said Benjamin, "so that I may yet
be able to write something worthy of being read. You couldn't expect
me to write very well at first."
"But you are not a poet," continued Mr. Franklin. "It is not in you,
and, even if it was, I should not advise you to write it; for poets
are generally beggars,--poor, shiftless members of society."
"That is news to me," responded Benjamin. "How does it happen, then,
that some of their works are so popular?"
"Because a true poet can write something worthy of being read, while a
mere verse-maker, like yourself, writes only doggerel, that is not
worth the paper on which it is printed. Now I advise you to let
verse-making alone, and attend closely to your business, both for your
own sake and your brother's."
Mr. Franklin was rather severe upon Benjamin, although what he said of
his verses was true. Still, it was a commendable effort in the boy to
try to improve his mind. Some of the best poets who have lived wrote
mere doggerel when they began. Many of our best prose-writers, too,
were exceedingly faulty writers at first. It is a noble effort of a
boy to try to put his thoughts into writing. If he does not succeed in
the first instance, by patience, energy, and perseverance he may
triumph at last. Benjamin might not have acted wisely in selling his
verses about town, but his brother, so much older and more experienced
than himself, should bear the censure of that, since it was done by
his direction.
The decided opposition that Mr. Franklin showed to verse-making put a
damper upon Benjamin's poetical aspirations. The air-castle that his
youthful imagination had built, in consequence of the rapid sale of
his literary wares, tumbled to ruin at once. He went back to the
office and his work quite crest-fallen.
"What has happened now?" inquired James, noticing that Benjamin looked
somewhat less smiling.
"Father doesn't think much of my printing and selling verses of my
own," replied Benjamin. "He has been giving me a real lecture, so that
I am almost ashamed of myself."
"How is that," said James, "does he dislike your pieces?"
"Yes; and he will not allow that they have any merit. He read them
over in his way, and counted faults enough to show that there is very
little poetry in me. A beggar and a poet mean about the same thing to
him."
"He ought to remember that you are young," answered James, "and may
improve wonderfully in future. You can't expect to write either prose
or poetry well without beginning and trying."
"All the trying in the world can do nothing for me, I should judge
from father's talk," added Benjamin, rather seriously.
Perhaps it was a good thing for Benjamin to meet with this obstacle in
his path to success. According to his own confession, his vanity was
inflated by the sale of his ballads, and he might have been puffed up
to his future injury, had not his father thus unceremoniously taken
the wind out of his sails. There was little danger now, however.
After such a severe handling, he was not likely to overrate his
poetical talents. It had the effect also to turn his attention to
prose writing, which is more substantial and remunerative than poetry,
and in this he became distinguished, as we shall see hereafter.
The practice of writing down one's thoughts, called in our schools
"composition," is excellent, and ought not to be so generally
neglected by the young as it is. It proved a valuable exercise to
Benjamin, even before he became renowned in the service of his
country. In several instances, while he was yet a youth, it enabled
him to secure business, when otherwise he might have been in extreme
want. It gave him the ability to conduct his brother's paper, when
only sixteen years of age, at a time when the government of the
Province incarcerated James, so that the paper would have been crushed
but for the ability of Benjamin. When he first commenced business in
Philadelphia, also, it enabled him to produce articles for the
"Pennsylvania Gazette," which attracted general notice, and opened the
way for his becoming both proprietor and editor of the same. And a
little later he was able to write a pamphlet on the "_Nature and
Necessity of a Paper Currency_," proposing a measure that was carried
through the legislature, because the opponents of it had no writer in
their ranks competent to answer it. These are only a few examples of
the many advantages he derived from early training himself to write,
even before he had passed the dew of his youth. In age he referred to
this practice of his boyhood with much pleasure, and regarded it as
one of the fortunate exercises that contributed to his eminent
success.
Many such facts as the following might be cited upon this subject. A
farmer's son began, at fourteen years of age, to write something every
day, after his work was done, in a blank-book which he kept for the
purpose. He persevered in the practice for several years, and acquired
a facility in composition before he thought of having a liberal
education. The consequence was, that his friends became earnest to
have him educated, and he was sent to college, where he ranked high as
a writer; and he is now about entering the ministry, under very
flattering circumstances. Few young men have more ease and power of
writing at the commencement of their ministerial work; and it all
results from his early self-discipline in the exercise of
composition.