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
anything 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 in 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 now that
I was rather lucky in my judges, and that perhaps they were not really
so very good ones as I then esteemed them.
Encouraged, however, by this, I wrote and conveyed in the same way to
the press several more papers, which were equally approved; and I kept
my secret till my small fund of sense for such performances was pretty
well exhausted, and then I discovered[34] it, when I began to be
considered a little more by my brother's acquaintance, and in a manner
that did not quite please him, as he thought, probably with reason, that
it tended to make me too vain. And perhaps this might be one occasion of
the differences that 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 demeaned[35] 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.
One of the pieces in our newspaper, on some political point which I
have now forgotten, gave offense to the Assembly.[36] He was taken up,
censured, and imprisoned for a month, by the Speaker's warrant, I
suppose, because he would not discover his 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 young genius that had a turn for libeling and
satire. My brother's discharge was accompanied with an order of the
House (a very odd one) that James Franklin should no longer print the
paper called the "New England Courant."
There was a consultation held in our printing house among his friends
what he should do in this case. Some proposed to evade the order by
changing the name of the paper; but my brother seeing inconveniences
in that, it was finally concluded on, as a better way, to let it be
printed for the future under the name of Benjamin Franklin; and to
avoid the censure of the Assembly that might fall on him as still
printing it by his apprentice, the contrivance was that my old
indenture should be returned to me, with a full discharge on the back
of it, to be shown on occasion; but to secure to him the benefit of my
service I was to sign new indentures for the remainder of the term,
which were to be kept private. A very flimsy scheme it was; however,
it was immediately executed, and the paper went on accordingly under
my name for several months.
At length, a fresh difference arising 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[37] 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 I would 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 stayed, 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 determined on the point, 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 a little for me. He agreed with the
captain of a New York sloop for my passage, under the notion of my
being a young acquaintance of his that had got into trouble, and
therefore I could not appear or come away publicly. So I sold some of
my books to raise a little money, was taken on board privately, and,
as we had a fair wind, in three days I found myself in New York, near
three hundred miles from home, a boy of but seventeen, without the
least recommendation to, or knowledge of, any person in the place, and
with very little money in my pocket.
[Footnote 4: A village near Winchester, Hampshire, England, where Dr.
Jonathan Shipley had his country house. Dr. Shipley was Bishop of St.
Asaph's in Wales, and Franklin's friend.]
[Footnote 5: Franklin's only living son, William, who in 1762 had been
made royal governor of New Jersey, with the hope of detaching Franklin
from the cause of the colonists.]
[Footnote 6: A franklin was a freeman, or freeholder, or owner of the
land on which he dwelt. The franklins were by their possessions fitted
for becoming sheriffs, knights, etc. After the Norman Conquest, men in
England took, in addition to the first name, another which was
suggested by their condition in life, their trade, or some personal
peculiarity. See Note, p. 203.]
[Footnote 7: A title given in England in Franklin's time to the
descendants of knights and noblemen.]
[Footnote 8: A writer whose duties were similar to those of our notary.]
[Footnote 9: "Old style," i.e., the method of reckoning time which
formerly prevailed and which had caused an error of eleven days. The
new style of reckoning was adopted in England in 1752.]
[Footnote 10: The passage of the soul into another body; one might
have supposed that the soul of the uncle had taken up abode in
Franklin's body.]
[Footnote 11: Franklin omitted the verses.]
[Footnote 12: Who was queen from 1553 to 1558.]
[Footnote 13: "Joint stool," i.e., a stool made of parts fitted
together.]
[Footnote 14: "Outed for nonconformity," i.e., turned out of the
church for not conforming to the usages of the Church of England and
for holding meetings of dissenters for public worship.]
[Footnote 15: Franklin was born Sunday, Jan. 17, 1706 (Jan. 6, old
style). The family then lived in a small house on Milk Street, near
the Old South Church, where the Boston Post building now stands.]
[Footnote 16: The persecution which the first settlers practiced
against all who differed with them in religious doctrines.]
[Footnote 17: Sherburne is now called Nantucket.]
[Footnote 18: The lines which Dr. Franklin had forgotten are these:
"I am for peace and not for war,
And that's the reason why
I write more plain than some men do,
That used to daub and lie.
But I shall cease, and set my name
To what I here insert,
Because to be a libeler
I hate it with my heart."
]
[Footnote 19: In Franklin's time the grammar school was a school for
teaching Latin, which was begun by committing the grammar to memory.]
[Footnote 20: Characters, or method of writing shorthand.]
[Footnote 21: Candles were made by dipping wicks in the fat a number
of times, and also by setting the wicks in a mold and pouring the fat
round them.]
[Footnote 22: Ants.]
[Footnote 23: The marble having crumbled, a larger stone was placed
over the grave in 1827, and Franklin's inscription repeated. It stands
in the Granary Burying Ground.]
[Footnote 24: Aged.]
[Footnote 25: A joiner is a mechanic who does the woodwork of houses,
etc.; a turner, one who works with a lathe; a brasier, a worker in
brass.]
[Footnote 26: A chapman was a peddler.]
[Footnote 27: Agreements written upon sheets, the edges of which were
cut or indented to match each other, for security and identification.]
[Footnote 28: A street in London in which many writers of small
ability or reputation, or of unhappy fortune, had lodgings. "Grub
Street style," therefore, means poor or worthless in literary value.
The term, which always implied a sneer, was made current by Pope and
Swift and their coterie.]
[Footnote 29: A paper published in London every week day from the 1st
of March, 1711, to the 6th of December, 1712, and made up for the most
part of essays by Addison, Steele, and their friends. It held aloof
from politics, and dealt with the manners of the time and with
literature.]
[Footnote 30: These gentlemen of Port Royal lived in the old convent
of Port Royal des Champs, near Paris. They were learned men who, with
other works, prepared schoolbooks, among which was the "Art of
Thinking," a logic.]
[Footnote 31: "The Socratic method," i.e., the method of modest
questioning, which Socrates used with pupils and opponents alike, and
by which he led them to concessions and unforeseen conclusions.]
[Footnote 32: These lines are not Pope's, but Lord Roscommon's,
slightly modified.]
[Footnote 33: "The New England Courant was the fourth newspaper that
appeared in America. The first number of the Boston News-Letter was
published April 24, 1704. This was the first newspaper in America. The
Boston Gazette commenced Dec. 21, 1719; the American Weekly Mercury,
at Philadelphia, Dec. 22, 1719; the New England Courant, Aug. 21,
1721. Dr. Franklin's error of memory probably originated in the
circumstance of his brother having been the printer of the Boston
Gazette when it was first established. This was the second newspaper
published in America."--SPARKS.]
[Footnote 34: Told.]
[Footnote 35: Lowered; put down.[n]]
[Footnote 36: The legislature.]
[Footnote 37: Errors; mistakes.]
§ 2. SEEKS HIS FORTUNE.
My inclinations for the sea were by this time worn out, or I might now
have gratified them. But, having a trade, and supposing myself a
pretty good workman, I offered my service to the printer in the place,
old Mr. William Bradford, who had been the first printer in
Pennsylvania, but removed from thence upon the quarrel of George
Keith. He could give me no employment, having little to do and help
enough already; but says he, "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 a hundred miles farther; I set
out, however, 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,[38] and drove us upon
Long Island. In our way, a drunken Dutchman, who was a passenger too,
fell overboard. When he was sinking, I reached through the water to
his shock pate, and drew him up so that we got him in again. His
ducking sobered him a little, and he went to sleep, taking first out
of his pocket a book, which he desired I would dry for him. It proved
to be my old favorite author, Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," in Dutch,
finely printed on good paper, with copper cuts, a dress better than I
had ever seen it wear in its own language. I have since found that it
has been translated into most of the languages of Europe, and suppose
it has been more generally read than any other book, except, perhaps,
the Bible. Honest John[39] was the first that I know of who mixed
narration and dialogue; a method of writing very engaging to the
reader, who in the most interesting parts finds himself, as it were,
brought into the company and present at the discourse. Defoe[n] in his
"Crusoe," his "Moll Flanders," "Religious Courtship," "Family
Instructor," and other pieces, has imitated it with success; and
Richardson has done the same in his "Pamela," etc.
When we drew near the island we found it was at a place where there
could be no landing, there being a great surf on the stony beach. So
we dropped anchor, and swung round toward the shore. Some people came
down to the water edge and hallooed to us, as we did to them; but the
wind was so high and the surf so loud that we could not hear so as to
understand each other. There were canoes on the shore, and we made
signs, and hallooed that they should fetch us; but they either did not
understand us or thought it impracticable, so they went away, and
night coming on, we had no remedy but to wait till the wind should
abate. In the mean time, the boatman and I concluded to sleep if we
could, and so crowded into the scuttle with the Dutchman, who was
still wet, and the spray beating over the head of our boat leaked
through to us, so that we were soon almost as wet as he. In this
manner we lay all night, with very little rest; but the wind abating
the next day, we made a shift to reach Amboy before night, having been
thirty hours on the water, without victuals, or any drink but a bottle
of filthy rum, the water we sailed on being salt.
In the evening I found myself very feverish, and went in to bed; but,
having read somewhere that cold water, drunk plentifully, was good for
a fever, I followed the prescription, sweat plentifully most of the
night, my fever left me, and in the morning, crossing the ferry, I
proceeded on my journey on foot, having fifty miles to Burlington,[40]
where I was told I should find boats that would carry me the rest of
the way to Philadelphia.
It rained very hard all the day. I was thoroughly soaked, and by noon a
good deal tired, so I stopped at a poor inn, where I stayed all night,
beginning now to wish that I had never left home. I cut so miserable a
figure, too, that I found, by the questions asked me, I was suspected to
be some runaway servant and in danger of being taken up on that
suspicion. However, I proceeded the next day, and got in the evening to
an inn, within eight or ten miles of Burlington, kept by one Dr. Brown.
He entered into conversation with me while I took some refreshment, and,
finding I had read a little, became very sociable and friendly. Our
acquaintance continued as long as he lived.[n] He had been, I imagine,
an itinerant doctor; for there was no town in England, or country in
Europe, of which he could not give a very particular account. He had
some letters,[41] and was ingenious, but much of an unbeliever, and
wickedly undertook, some years after, to travesty the Bible in doggerel
verse, as Cotton had done Virgil. By this means he set many of the facts
in a very ridiculous light, and might have hurt weak minds if his work
had been published; but it never was.
At his house I lay that night, and the next morning reached
Burlington, but had the mortification to find that the regular boats
were gone a little before my coming, and no other expected to go
before Tuesday, this being Saturday; wherefore I returned to an old
woman in the town of whom I had bought gingerbread to eat on the
water, and asked her advice. She invited me to lodge at her house till
a passage by water should offer; and, being tired with my foot
traveling, I accepted the invitation. She, understanding I was a
printer, would have had me stay at that town and follow my business,
being ignorant of the stock necessary to begin with. She was very
hospitable, gave me a dinner of ox cheek with great good will,
accepting only of a pot of ale in return; and I thought myself fixed
till Tuesday should come. However, walking in the evening by the side
of the river, a boat came by, which I found was going toward
Philadelphia, with several people in her. They took me in, and, as
there was no wind, we rowed all the way, and about midnight, not
having yet seen the city, some of the company were confident we must
have passed it, and would row no farther. The others knew not where we
were; so we put toward the shore, got into a creek, and landed near an
old fence, with the rails of which we made a fire, the night being
cold, in October, and there we remained till daylight. Then one of the
company knew the place to be Cooper's Creek, a little above
Philadelphia, which we saw as soon as we got out of the creek, and
arrived there about eight or nine o'clock on the Sunday morning, and
landed at the Market Street wharf.
I have been the more particular in this description of my journey, and
shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your
mind compare such unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since
made there. I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come
round by sea. I was dirty from my journey; my pockets were stuffed out
with shirts and stockings, and I knew no soul, nor where to look for
lodging. I was fatigued with traveling, rowing, and want of rest; I
was very hungry; and my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch
dollar and about a shilling in copper.[42] The latter I gave the
people of the boat for my passage, who at first refused it, on account
of my rowing; but I insisted on their taking it, a man being sometimes
more generous when he has but a little money than when he has plenty,
perhaps through fear of being thought to have but little.
Then I walked up the street, gazing about, till near the market house
I met a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread, and,
inquiring where he got it, I went immediately to the baker's he
directed me to, in Second Street, and asked for biscuit, intending
such as we had in Boston; but they, it seems, were not made in
Philadelphia. Then I asked for a threepenny loaf, and was told they
had none such. So not considering or knowing the difference of money
and the greater cheapness, nor the names of his bread, I bade him give
me threepenny worth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great
puffy rolls. I was surprised at the quantity, but took it, and, having
no room in my pockets, walked off with a roll under each arm, and
eating the other. Thus I went up Market Street as far as Fourth
Street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father; when
she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly
did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went
down Chestnut Street and part of Walnut Street, eating my roll all the
way, and, coming round, found myself again at Market Street wharf,
near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of the river
water; and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other two to a
woman and her child that came down the river in the boat with us, and
were waiting to go farther.
Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time had
many clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way. I
joined them, and thereby was led into the great meetinghouse of the
Quakers near the market.[43] I sat down among them, and, after looking
round awhile and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy through labor
and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and
continued so till the meeting broke up, when one was kind enough to
rouse me. This was, therefore, the first house I was in, or slept in,
in Philadelphia.
Walking down again toward the river, and looking in the faces of
people, I met a young Quaker man, whose countenance I liked, and,
accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could get
lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three Mariners. "Here,"
says he, "is one place that entertains strangers, but it is not a
reputable house; if thee wilt walk with me I'll show thee a better."
He brought me to the Crooked Billet, in Water Street. Here I got a
dinner, and while I was eating it several sly questions were asked me,
as it seemed to be suspected from my youth and appearance that I might
be some runaway.
After dinner my sleepiness returned; and, being shown to a bed, I lay
down without undressing and slept till six in the evening, was called to
supper, went to bed again very early, and slept soundly till next
morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could, and went to Andrew
Bradford the printer's. I found in the shop the old man, his father,
whom I had seen at New York, and who, traveling on horseback, had got to
Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his son, who received me
civilly, and gave me a breakfast, but told me he did not at present want
a hand, being lately supplied with one; but there was another printer in
town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me; if not,
I should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a little
work to do now and then till fuller business should offer.
The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer; and
when we found him, "Neighbor," says Bradford, "I have brought to see
you a young man of your business; perhaps you may want such a one." He
asked me a few questions, put a composing stick[44] in my hand to see
how I worked, and then said he would employ me soon, though he had
just then nothing for me to do; and, taking old Bradford, whom he had
never seen before, to be one of the townspeople that had a good will
for him, he entered into a conversation on his present undertaking and
prospects; while Bradford, not discovering that he was the other
printer's father, on Keimer's saying he expected soon to get the
greatest part of the business into his own hands, drew him on by
artful questions, and starting little doubts, to explain all his
views, what interest he relied on, and in what manner he intended to
proceed. I, who stood by and heard all, saw immediately that one of
them was a crafty old sophister,[45] and the other a mere novice.
Bradford left me with Keimer, who was greatly surprised when I told
him who the old man was.
Keimer's printing house, I found, consisted of an old shattered press
and one small, worn-out font of English,[46] which he was then using
himself, composing an elegy on Aquila Rose, before mentioned, an
ingenious young man of excellent character, much respected in the
town, clerk of the Assembly, and a pretty poet. Keimer made verses
too, but very indifferently. He could not be said to write them, for
his manner was to compose them in the types, directly out of his head.
So, there being no copy,[47] but one pair of cases, and the elegy
likely to require all the letters, no one could help him. I endeavored
to put his press (which he had not yet used and of which he understood
nothing) into order fit to be worked with; and, promising to come and
print off his elegy as soon as he should have got it ready, I returned
to Bradford's, who gave me a little job to do for the present, and
there I lodged and dieted.[48] A few days after Keimer sent for me to
print off the elegy. And now he had got another pair of cases, and a
pamphlet to reprint, on which he set me to work.
These two printers I found poorly qualified for their business.
Bradford had not been bred to it, and was very illiterate; and Keimer,
though something of a scholar, was a mere compositor, knowing nothing
of press work. He had been one of the French prophets,[49] and could
act their enthusiastic agitations. At this time he did not profess any
particular religion, but something of all on occasion, was very
ignorant of the world, and had, as I afterward found, a good deal of
the knave in his composition. He did not like my lodging at Bradford's
while I worked with him. He had a house, indeed, but without
furniture, so he could not lodge me; but he got me a lodging at Mr.
Read's, before mentioned, who was the owner of his house; and, my
chest and clothes being come by this time, I made rather a more
respectable appearance in the eyes of Miss Read than I had done when
she first happened to see me eating my roll in the street.