OLD MR. CALAMITY AGAIN.
FRANKLIN'S paper, the Pennsylvania Gazette, which appeared in the year
1729, at first published by Franklin and Meredith, and always very
neatly printed, had grown, and its income became large. It did much of
the thinking for the province. But Franklin made it what it was by his
energy, perseverance, and faith. He returned to America, and the paper
voiced his opinions.
In the period of his early struggle, he was wheeling some printing paper
in a wheelbarrow along the streets toward his office when he heard the
tap, tap, tap of an old man's cane.
He looked around. It was the cane of old Mr. Calamity. This man had
advised him not to begin publishing.
"Young man----"
"Good morning, sir. I hope it finds you well."
"It must be hard times when an editor has to carry his printing paper in
a wheelbarrow."
"The oracle said, 'Leave no stone unturned if you would find success.'"
"Well, my young friend, if there is anybody that obeys the oracle in
Pennsylvania it is you. You dress plainly; you do not indulge in many
luxuries; you attend the societies and clubs that seek information; you
ought to succeed, but you won't."
The old man lifted his cane and brought it down on the flagging stones
with a pump.
"You won't, _now_!"
He stood still for a moment to add to the impression of his words.
"What is this I hear? The province is about to issue paper money? What
did I tell you long ago? This is an age of rags. Paper money is rags.
Governor Keith's affairs have all gone to ruin; it is unfortunate that
he went away. And you are going to print the paper money for the
province, are you? Listen to me: in a few years it will not be worth the
paper it is printed on, and you will be glad to follow the example of
Governor Keith, and get out of Philadelphia. The times are hard, but
they are going to be harder. What hope is there for such a man as you?"
Franklin set down his wheelbarrow.
"My good sir, I am doing honest work. It will tell--I have confidence
that it will tell."
"Tell! Tell who?"
"The world."
"The world! The owls have not yet ceased to hoot in woods around
Philadelphia, and he has a small world that is bounded by the hoot of an
owl."
"My father used to say that he who is diligent in his business shall
stand before kings," quoting the Scripture.
"Well, you may be as honest and as diligent in your business as you
will, it is a small chance that you will ever have of standing before
kings. What are you standing before now?--a wheelbarrow. That is as far
as you have got. A promising young man it must be to stand before a
wheelbarrow and talk about standing before kings!"
"But, sir, I ought not to be standing before a wheelbarrow. I ought to
be going on and coining time."
"Well, go right along; you are on the way to Poverty Corner, and you
will not need any guide post to find it; take up the handles of the
wheelbarrow and go right on. Maybe the king will send a coach for you
some day."
He did--more than one king did.
Franklin took the handles of the wheelbarrow, wondering which was the
true prophet, his father's Scripture or cautious old Mr. Calamity. As he
went on he heard the tap, tap, tap of the cane behind him, and a low
laugh at times and the word "kings."
He came to the office, and taking a huge bundle of printing paper on his
shoulder went in. The cane passed, tap, tap, tapping. It had an ominous
sound. But after the tap, tap, tap of the cane had gone, Franklin could
still hear his old father's words in his spiritual memory, and he
believed that they were true.
We must continue the story of Mr. Calamity, so as to picture events from
a Tory point of view. The incident of the wheelbarrow would long cause
him to reproach the name of Franklin.
The Pennsylvania Gazette not only grew and became a source of large
revenue, so that Franklin had no more need to wheel to his office
printing paper with his own hands, but it crowned with honor the work
of which he was never ashamed. The printing of the paper money of the
province added to his name, the success that multiplies success began
its rounds with the years, and middle life found him a rich man, and his
late return from England a man with the lever of power that molds
opinion.
Poor old Mr. Calamity must have viewed this growth and prosperity with
eyes askance. His cane tapped more rapidly yearly as it passed the great
newspaper office, notwithstanding that it bore more and more the weight
of years.
Benjamin Franklin was a magnanimous man. He never wasted time in seeking
the injury of any who ridiculed and belittled him. He had the largest
charity for the mistakes in judgment that men make, and the
opportunities of life were too precious for him to waste any time in
beating the air where nothing was to be gained. Help the man who some
time sought to injure you, and the day may come when he will help you,
and such Peter-like experiences are among life's richest harvests. The
true friendship gained by forgiveness has a breadth and depth of life
that bring one of the highest joys of heaven to the soul.
"I will study many things, for I must be proficient in something," said
the poet Longfellow when young. Franklin studied everything--languages,
literature, science, and art. His middle life was filled with studies;
all life to him was a schoolroom. His studies in middle life bore fruit
after he was threescore and ten years of age. They helped to make his
paper powerful.
Franklin's success greatly troubled poor old Mr. Calamity. After the
printer made the great discovery that electricity was lightning, the old
man opposed the use of lightning-rods.
"What will that man Franklin do next?" he said. "He would oppose the
Lord of the heavens from thundering and lightning--he would defy
Providence and Omnipotent Power. Why, the next thing he may deny the
authority of King George himself, who is divinely appointed. He is a
dangerous man, the most dangerous man in all the colony."
Old Mr. Calamity warned the people against the innovations of this
dangerous man.
One day, as he was resting under the great trees on the Schuylkill,
there was brought to him grievous news. A clerk in the Pennsylvania
Assembly came up to him and asked:
"Do you know what has been done? The Assembly has appointed Franklin as
agent to London; he is to go as the agent of all the colonies."
"Sho! What do the colonies want of an agent in London? Don't the king
know how to govern his colonies? And if we need an agent abroad, why
should we send a printer and a lightning-rod man? Clerk, sit down! That
man Franklin is a dangerous leader. 'An agent of the colonies in
London!' Why, I have seen him carrying printing paper in a wheelbarrow.
A curious man that to send to the court of England's sovereign, whose
arms are the lion and the unicorn."
"But there is a movement in England to tax the colonies."
"And why shouldn't there be? If the king thinks it is advisable to tax
the colonies for their own support, why should not his ministers be
instructed to do so? The king is a power divinely ordained; the king
can do no wrong. We ought to be willing to be taxed by such a virtuous
and gracious sovereign. Taxation is a blessing; it makes us realize our
privileges. Oh, that Franklin! that Franklin! there is something
peculiarsome about him; but the end of that man is to fall. First
carrying about printing paper in a wheelbarrow, then trifling with the
lightning in a thunderstorm, and now going to the court of England as a
representative of the colonies. The world never saw such an amazing
spectacle as that in all its history. Do you know what the king may yet
be compelled to do? He may yet have to punish his American colonies.
Clouds are gathering--I can see. Well, let Franklin go, and take his
wheelbarrow with him! What times these are!"
Franklin was sent to England again greatly to the discomfort of Mr.
Calamity.
The English Parliament passed an act called the Stamp Act, taxing the
colonies by placing a stamp on all paper to be used in legal
transactions. It was passed against the consent of the colonies, who
were allowed to have no representatives in the foreign government, and
the measure filled the colonies with indignation. There were not many in
America like Mr. Calamity who believed the doctrine that the king could
do no wrong. King George III approved of the Stamp Act, not only as a
means of revenue, but as an assertion of royal authority.
The colonies were opposed to the use of the stamped paper. Were they to
submit to be governed by the will of a foreign power without any voice
in the measures of the government imposed upon them? Were their lives
and property at the command of a despotism, without any source of
appeal to justice?
The indignation grew. The spirit of resistance to the arbitrary act of
tyranny was everywhere to be met and seen.
From the time of his arrival in London, in 1764, at the age of
fifty-nine, Franklin gave all his energies for a long time to opposing
the Stamp Act, and, after it had passed, to securing its repeal. He was,
as it were, America in London.
The Stamp Act, largely through his influence, was at last repealed, and
joy filled America. Processions were formed in honor of the king, and
bonfires blazed on the hills. In Boston the debtors were set free from
jail, that all might unite in the jubilee.
Franklin's name filled the air.
Old Mr. Calamity heard of it amid the ringing of bells.
"Franklin, Franklin," he said on the occasion, turning around in
vexation and taking a pinch of snuff, "why, I have seen him carrying
printing paper in a wheelbarrow!"
Philadelphia had a day of jubilee in honor of the repeal of the Stamp
Act, and Mr. Calamity with cane and snuffbox wandered out to see the
sights. The streets were in holiday attire, bells were ringing, and here
and there a shout for Franklin went up from an exulting crowd. As often
as the prudent old gentleman heard that name he turned around, pounding
his cane and taking a pinch of snuff.
He went down to a favorite grove on the banks of the Schuylkill. He
found it spread with tables and hung with banners.
"Sir," he said to a local officer, "is there to be a banquet here?"
"Yes, your Honor, _the_ banquet is to be here. Have you not heard?"
"What is the banquet to be for?"
"In honor of Franklin, sir."
Mr. Calamity turned round on his cane and took out his snuffbox.
There was an outburst of music, a great shout, and a hurrying of people
toward the green grove.
Something loomed in air.
The old gentleman, putting his hand over his eye as a shade, looked up
in great surprise.
"What--what is that?"
What indeed!
"A boat sailing in the air?" He added, "Franklin must have invented
that!"
"No," said the official, "that is the great barge."
"What is it for?"
"It will exhibit itself shortly," said the official.
It came on, covered with banners that waved in the river winds.
The old man read the inscription upon it--"_Franklin_."
"I told you so," he said.
"It will thunder soon," said the official. "Don't you see it is armed
with guns?"
The barge stopped at the entrance of the grove. A discharge of cannon
followed from the boat, which was forty feet long. A great shout
followed the salute. The whole city seemed cheering. The name that
filled the air was "_Franklin_."
Mr. Calamity turned around and around, planting his cane down in a
manner that left a circle, and then taking out of his pocket his
snuffbox.
He saw a boy cheering.
"Boy!"
"Sir?"
"What are _you_ shouting for?"
"For the Stamp Act, sir!"
"That is right, my boy."
"No, for Franklin!"
"For Franklin? Why, I have seen him carrying a lot of printing paper
through the streets in a wheelbarrow! May time be gracious to me, so
that I may see him hanged! Boy, see here----"
But the banners were moving into the green grove, and the boy had gone
after them.
Benjamin Franklin returned to Philadelphia the most popular man in the
colonies, and was elected a delegate to the Continental Congress.
"Only Heaven can save us now," said troubled Mr. Calamity. "There's
treason in the air!"
The old gentleman was not a bad man; he saw life on the side of shadow,
and had become blind to the sunny side of life. He was one of those
natures that are never able to come out of the past.
The people amid the rising prosperity ceased to believe in old Mr.
Calamity as a prophet. He felt this loss of faith in him. He assumed
the character of the silent wise man at times. He would pass people whom
he had warned of the coming doom, shaking his head, and then turning
around would strike his cane heavily on the pavement, which would cause
the one he had left behind to look back. He would then lift his cane as
though it were the rod of a magician.
"Old Mr. Calamity is coming," said a Philadelphia schoolboy to another,
one new school day in autumn. "See, he is watching Franklin, and is
trying to avoid meeting him."
Their teacher came along the street.
"Why, boys, are you watching the old gentleman?"
"He is trying to avoid meeting Mr. Franklin, sir."
"Calamity comes to avoid Industry," said the teacher, as he saw the two
men. Franklin was the picture of thrift, and his very gait was full of
purpose and energy. "I speak in parable," said the teacher, "but that
old gentleman is always in a state of alarm, and he seems to find
satisfaction in predicting evil, and especially of Mr. Franklin. The
time was when the young printer avoided him--he was startled, I fancy,
whenever he heard the cane on the pavement; he must have felt the force
of the suggestion that Calamity was after him. Now he has become
prosperous, and the condition is changed. Calamity flees from him. See,
my boys, the two men."
They stopped on the street.
Mr. Calamity passed them on the opposite side, and Mr. Franklin came
after him, walking briskly. The latter stopped at the door of his
office, but the old gentleman hurried on. When he reached the corner of
the street he planted his cane down on the pavement and looked around.
He saw the popular printer standing before his office door on the
street. The two looked at each other. The old man evidently felt
uncomfortable. He turned the corner, out of sight, when an extraordinary
movement appeared.
Mr. Calamity reached back his long, ruffled arm, and his cane, in view
of the philosopher, the teacher, and the boys, and shook the cane
mysteriously as though he were writing in the air. He may have had in
mind some figure of the ancient prophets. Up and down went the cane,
around and around, with curves of awful import. It looked to those on
the street he had left as though the sharp angle of the house on the
corner had suddenly struck out a living arm in silent warning.
The arm and cane disappeared. A head in a wide-rimmed hat looked around
the angle as if to see the effect of the writing in the air. Then the
arm and cane appeared again as before. It was like the last remnant of a
cloud when the body has passed.
The teacher saw the meaning of the movement.
"Boys," said he, "if you should ever be pursued by Mr. Calamity in any
form, remember the arm and cane. See Franklin laugh! Industry in the end
laughs at Calamity, and Diligence makes the men who 'stand before
kings.' It is the law of life. Detraction is powerless before will and
work, and as a rule whatever any one dreams that he may do, he will do."
The boys had received an object lesson, and would long carry in their
minds the picture of the mysterious arm and cane.
In a right intention one is master of the ideal of life. If
circumstances favor, he becomes conscious that life is no longer master
of him, but that he is the master of life. This sense of power and
freedom is noble; in vain does the shadow of Calamity intrude upon it;
the visions of youth become a part of creations of the world; the dream
of the architect is a mansion now; of the scientist, a road, a railway
over rivers and mountains; of the orator and poet, thoughts that live.
Even the young gardner finds his dreams projected into his farm. So
ideals become realities, and thoughts become seeds that multiply. Mr.
Calamity may shake his cane, but it will be behind a corner. Happy is he
who makes facts of his thoughts that were true to life!