LAUGHED AT AGAIN.
FRANKLIN'S first day in Philadelphia is well known to the world. He has
related it in Addisonian English, and it has been read almost as widely
as the adventures of Robinson Crusoe or Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.
We must give a part of the narrative here in his own language, for a
merry girl is about to laugh at the Boston boy as she sees him pass, and
he will cause this lovely girl to laugh with him many times in his
rising career and in different spirit from that on the occasion when she
first beheld him, the awkward and comical-looking boy wandering he knew
not where on the street.
Let us follow him through his own narrative until he meets the eyes of
Deborah Read, a fair lass of eighteen.
On his arrival at Philadelphia, he tells us, he was in his working
dress; his best clothes were to come by sea. He was covered with dirt;
his pockets were filled with shirts and stockings. He was unacquainted
with a single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek for a
lodging. Fatigued with walking, rowing, and having passed the night
without sleep, he was extremely hungry, and all his money consisted of a
Dutch dollar and about a shilling's worth of coppers, which latter he
gave to the boatman for his passage.
He walked toward the top of the street, looking eagerly on both sides,
till he came to Market Street, where he met with a child with a loaf of
bread. Often he had made his dinner on dry bread. He inquired of the
child where he had bought the bread, and went straight to the baker's
shop which the latter pointed out to him. He asked for some biscuits,
expecting to find such as they had in Boston; but they made, it seems,
none of that sort in Philadelphia. He then asked for a threepenny loaf.
They made no loaves of that price. Finding himself ignorant of the
prices as well as of the different kinds of bread, he desired the baker
to let him have threepenny worth of bread of some kind or other. The
baker gave him three large rolls. He was surprised at receiving so much;
he took them, however, and having no room in his pockets, he walked on
with a roll under each arm, eating the third. In this manner he went
through Market Street to Fourth Street, and passed the house of Mr.
Read, the father of his future wife. The girl was standing at the door,
observed him, and thought with reason that he made a very singular and
grotesque appearance, and laughed merrily. We repeat the many-times-told
tale in nearly his own words.
So here we find our young adventurer laughed at again. We can fancy the
young girl standing on her father's doorsteps on that mellow autumn day.
There comes up the street a lad with two rolls of bread under his arm,
and eating a third roll, his pockets full of the simpler necessities of
clothing, which must have made him look like a ragman; everything about
him was queer and seemingly wrong. She may have seen that he was just
from the boat, and a traveler, but when did ever a traveler look so
entirely out of his senses as this one did?
Never mind, Ben Franklin. You will one day stand in Versailles in the
velvet robes of state, and the French king will give you his portrait
framed in four hundred and eight diamonds.
"I then turned the corner," he continues, "and went through Chestnut
Street, eating my roll all the way; and having made this round, I found
myself again on Market Street Wharf, near the boat in which I arrived. I
stepped into it to take a draught of river water, and finding myself
satisfied with my first roll, I gave the other two to a woman and her
child who had come down the river with us in the boat and was waiting to
continue her journey. Thus refreshed, I regained the street, which was
now full of well-dressed people, all going the same way. I joined them,
and was thus led to a large Quakers' meeting-house near the
market-place. I sat down with the rest, and, after looking round me for
some time, hearing nothing said, and being drowsy from my last night's
labor and want of rest, I fell into a sound sleep. In this state I
continued till the assembly dispersed, when one of the congregation had
the goodness to wake me. This was consequently the first house I entered
or in which I slept at Philadelphia.
"I began again to walk along the streets by the riverside, and, looking
attentively in the face of every one I met with, I at length perceived a
young Quaker whose countenance pleased me. I accosted him, and begged
him to inform me where a stranger might find a lodging. We were then
near the sign of the Three Mariners. 'They receive travelers here,'
said he, 'but it is not a house that bears a good character. If you will
go with me I will show you a better one.' He conducted me to the Crooked
Billet, in Water Street. There I ordered something for dinner, and
during my meal a number of curious questions were put to me, my youth
and appearance exciting the suspicion of my being a young runaway. After
dinner my drowsiness returned, and I threw myself upon a bed without
taking off my clothes, and slept till six o'clock in the evening, when I
was called to supper. I afterward went to bed at a very early hour, and
did not awake till the next morning.
"As soon as I got up I put myself in as decent a trim as I could, and
went to the house of Andrew Bradford, the printer. I found his father in
the shop, whom I had seen at New York. Having traveled on horseback, he
had arrived at Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his son, who
received me with civility and gave me some breakfast, but told me he had
no occasion at present for a journeyman, having lately procured one. He
added that there was another printer newly settled in the town, of the
name of Keimer, who might perhaps employ me, and that in case of refusal
I should be welcome to lodge at his house. He would give me a little
work now and then till something better should be found.
"The old man offered to introduce me to the new printer. When we were at
his house, 'Neighbor,' said he, 'I bring you a young man in the printing
business; perhaps you may have need of his services.'
"Keimer asked me some questions, put a composing stick in my hand to
see how I could work, and then said that at present he had nothing for
me to do, but that he should soon be able to employ me. At the same time
taking old Bradford for an inhabitant of the town well disposed toward
him, he communicated his project to him and the prospect he had of
success. Bradford was careful not to discover that he was the father of
the other printer; and from what Keimer had said, that he hoped shortly
to be in possession of the greater part of the business of the town, led
him, by artful questions and by starting some difficulties, to disclose
all his views, what his hopes were founded upon, and how he intended to
proceed. I was present and heard it all. I instantly saw that one of the
two was a cunning old fox and the other a perfect novice. Bradford left
me with Keimer, who was strangely surprised when I informed him who the
old man was.
"I found Keimer's printing materials to consist of an old, damaged press
and a small font of worn-out English letters, with which he himself was
at work upon an elegy upon Aquilla Rose, an ingenious young man and of
excellent character, highly esteemed in the town, Secretary to the
Assembly and a very tolerable poet. Keimer also made verses, but they
were indifferent ones. He could not be said to write in verse, for his
method was to set the lines as they followed from his muse; and as he
worked without copy, had but one set of letter cases, and as the elegy
would occupy all his types, it was impossible for any one to assist him.
I endeavored to put his press in order, which he had not yet used, and
of which indeed he understood nothing; and, having promised to come and
work off his elegy as soon as it should be ready, I returned to the
house of Bradford, who gave me some trifles to do for the present, for
which I had my board and lodging.
"In a few days Keimer sent for me to print off his elegy. He had now
procured another set of letter cases, and had a pamphlet to reprint,
upon which he set me to work.
"The two Philadelphia printers appeared destitute of every qualification
necessary in their profession. Bradford had not been brought up to it,
and was very illiterate. Keimer, though he understood a little of the
business, was merely a compositor, and wholly incapable of working at
press. He had been one of the French prophets, and knew how to imitate
their supernatural agitations. At the time of our first acquaintance he
professed no particular religion, but a little of all upon occasion. He
was totally ignorant of the world, and a great knave at heart, as I had
afterward an opportunity of experiencing.
"Keimer could not endure that, working with him, I should lodge at
Bradford's. He had indeed a house, but it was unfurnished, so that he
could not take me in. He procured me a lodging at Mr. Read's, his
landlord, whom I have already mentioned. My trunk and effects being now
arrived, I thought of making, in the eyes of Miss Read, a more
respectable appearance than when chance exhibited me to her view, eating
my roll and wandering in the streets.
"From this period I began to contract acquaintance with such young
people as were fond of reading, and spent my evenings with them
agreeably, while at the same time I gained money by my industry, and,
thanks to my frugality, lived contentedly. I thus forgot Boston as much
as possible, and wished every one to be ignorant of the place of my
residence, except my friend Collins, to whom I wrote, and who kept my
secret.
"An accident, however, happened which sent me home much sooner than I
proposed. I had a brother-in-law, of the name of Robert Holmes, master
of a trading sloop from Boston to Delaware. Being at Newcastle, forty
miles below Philadelphia, he heard of me, and wrote to inform me of the
chagrin which my sudden departure from Boston had occasioned my parents,
and of the affection which they still entertained for me, assuring me
that, if I would return, everything should be adjusted to my
satisfaction; and he was very pressing in his entreaties. I answered his
letter, thanked him for his advice, and explained the reasons which had
induced me to quit Boston with such force and clearness that he was
convinced I had been less to blame than he had imagined.
"Sir William Keith, Governor of the province, was at Newcastle at the
time. Captain Holmes, being by chance in his company when he received my
letter, took occasion to speak of me and showed it to him. The Governor
read it, and appeared surprised when he learned of my age. He thought
me, he said, a young man of very promising talents, and that of
consequence I ought to be encouraged; that there were at Philadelphia
none but very ignorant printers, and that if I were to set up for myself
he had no doubt of my success; that, for his own part, he would procure
me all the public business, and would render me every other service in
his power. My brother-in-law related all this to me afterward at Boston,
but I knew nothing of it at the time. When, one day, Keimer and I being
at work together near the window, we saw the Governor and another
gentleman, Colonel French, of Newcastle, handsomely dressed, cross the
street and make directly for our house. We heard them at the door, and
Keimer, believing it to be a visit to himself, went immediately down;
but the Governor inquired for me, came upstairs, and, with a
condescension and politeness to which I had not at all been accustomed,
paid me many compliments, desired to be acquainted with me, obligingly
reproached me for not having made myself known to him on my arrival in
the town, and wished me to accompany him to a tavern, where he and
Colonel French were going to have some excellent Madeira wine.
"I was, I confess, somewhat surprised, and Keimer appeared
thunderstruck. I went, however, with the Governor and the colonel to a
tavern at the corner of Third Street, where he proposed to me to
establish a printing house. He set forth the probabilities of success,
and himself and Colonel French assured me that I should have their
protection and influence in obtaining the printing of the public papers
of both governments; and as I appeared to doubt whether my father would
assist me in this enterprise, Sir William said that he would give me a
letter to him, in which he would represent the advantages of the scheme
in a light which he had no doubt would determine him. It was thus
concluded that I should return to Boston by the first vessel with the
letter of recommendation from the Governor to my father. Meanwhile the
project was to be kept secret, and I continued to work for Keimer as
before.
"The Governor sent every now and then to invite me to dine with him. I
considered this a very great honor, and I was the more sensible of it as
he conversed with me in the most affable, familiar, and friendly manner
imaginable.
"Toward the end of April, 1724, a small vessel was ready to sail for
Boston. I took leave of Keimer upon the pretext of going to see my
parents. The Governor gave me a long letter, in which he said many
flattering things of me to my father, and strongly recommended the
project of my settling at Philadelphia as a thing which could not fail
to make my fortune."
What is there prophetic of a great life in this homely narrative? Read
over again the incident of the three rolls, one of which he ate, and two
of which he gave to the poor woman and her child who needed them more
than he. All his money on that day was one silver dollar. In that
incident we see the heart and the persistent purpose to do good. He had
made mistakes, but the resolution that he had made on reading Cotton
Mather's meaty book was unshaken. He would correct his errors and yield
to his better nature, and this purpose to help others would grow, and so
he would overcome evil with good.
He who helps one helps two. The poor woman may never have been heard of
in public, except in this story, but that act of sharing the rolls, with
one for the little child, made Ben Franklin a larger man. "The purpose
of life is to grow."
Benjamin Franklin is now a seed in the wind, but he is a good seed in
the wind--good at heart, with a right purpose. The stream of life is
turned aside, but it will flow true again toward the great ocean of
that which is broadest and best.
For this little Jenny at home is hoping, and Abiah Franklin praying, and
Josiah Franklin keeping silence in regard to his family affairs.
These were hard days for Uncle Benjamin and his philosophy, and for
Jenny and her human faith.