On the arrival of the vessel at New-York, Ben went up to a tavern, and
lo! who should he first cast his eyes on there, but his old friend
Collins, of Boston!
Collins had, it seems, been so charmed with Ben's account of
Philadelphia, that he came to the determination to try his fortune
there also; and learning that Ben was shortly to return by the way of
New-York, he had jumped into the first vessel, and was there before
him, waiting his arrival. Great was the joy of Ben at the sight of his
friend Collins, for it drew after it a train of the most pleasant
recollections.--But who can describe his feelings, when flying to
embrace that long esteemed youth, he beheld him now risen from his
chair equally eager for the embrace, but alas! only able to make a
staggering step or two before down he came sprawling on the floor,
drunk as a lord!
To see a young man of his wit--his eloquence--his education--his
hitherto unstained character and high promise, thus overwhelmed by a
worse than brutal vice, would have been a sad sight to Ben, even
though that young man had been an entire stranger. But oh! how tenfold
sad to see such marks of ruinous dishonour on one so dear, and from
whom he had expected so much.
Ben had just returned from assisting to put poor Collins to bed, when
the captain of the vessel which had brought him to New-York, stepped
up and in a very respectful manner put a note into his hand.--Ben
opened it, not without considerable agitation, and read as follows:--
"G. Burnet's compliments await young Mr. Franklin--and should be glad
of half an hour's chat with him over a glass of wine."
"G. Burnet!" said Ben, "who can that be?"
"Why, 'tis the governor," replied the captain with a smile. "I have
just been to see him, with some letters I brought for him from Boston.
And when I told him what a world of books you have, he expressed a
curiosity to see you, and begged I would return with you to his
palace."
Ben instantly set off with the captain, but not without a sigh as he
cast a look back on the door of poor Collins' bed-room, to think what
an honour that wretched young man had lost for the sake of two or
three vile gulps of filthy grog.
The governor's looks, at the approach of Ben, showed somewhat of
disappointment. He had, it seems, expected considerable entertainment
from Ben's conversation. But his fresh and ruddy countenance showed
him so much younger than he had counted on, that he gave up all his
promised entertainment as a lost hope. He received Ben, however, with
great politeness, and after pressing on him a glass of wine, took him
into an adjoining room, which was his library, consisting of a large
and well-chosen collection.
Seeing the pleasure which sparkled in Ben's eyes as he surveyed so
many elegant authors, and thought of the rich stores of knowledge
which they contained, the governor, with a smile of complacency, as on
a young pupil of science, said to him, "Well, Mr. Franklin, I am told
by the captain here, that you have a fine collection too."
"Only a trunk full, sir," said Ben.
"A trunk full!" replied the governor. "Why, what use can you have for
so many books? Young people at your age have seldom read beyond the
10th chapter of Nehemiah."
"I can't boast," replied Ben, "of having read any great deal beyond
that myself; but still, I should be sorry if I could not get a trunk
full of books to read every six months." At this, the governor
regarding him with a look of surprise, said, "You must then, though so
young, be a scholar; perhaps a teacher of the languages."
"No sir," answered Ben, "I know no language but my own."
"What, not Latin nor Greek!"
"No sir, not a word of either."
"Why, don't you think them necessary?"
"I don't set myself up as a judge. But I should not suppose them
necessary."
"Aye! well, I should like to hear your reasons."
"Why, sir, I am not competent to give reasons that may satisfy a
gentleman of your learning, but the following are the reasons with
which I satisfy myself. I look on languages, sir, merely as arbitrary
sounds of characters, whereby men communicate their ideas to each
other. Now, if I already possess a language which is capable of
conveying more ideas than I shall ever acquire, were it not wiser in
me to improve my time in getting _sense_ through that one language,
than waste it in getting mere _sounds_ through fifty languages, even
if I could learn as many?"
Here the governor paused a moment, though not without a little red on
his cheeks, for having only a minute before put Ben and the 10th
chapter of Nehemiah so close together. However, catching a new idea,
he took another start. "Well, but, my dear sir, you certainly differ
from the learned world, which is, you know, decidedly in favour of the
languages."
"I would not wish wantonly to differ from the learned world," said
Ben, "especially when they maintain opinions that seem to be founded
on truth. But when this is not the case, to differ from them I have
ever thought my duty; and especially since I studied Locke."
"Locke!" cried the governor with surprise, "_you studied Locke!_"
"Yes, sir, I studied Locke on the Understanding three years ago, when
I was thirteen."
"You amaze me, sir. You studied Locke on the Understanding at
thirteen!"
"Yes, sir, I did."
"Well, and pray at what college did you study Locke at thirteen; for
at Cambridge college in Old England, where I got my education, they
never allowed the senior class to look at Locke till eighteen?"
"Why, sir, it was my misfortune never to be at a college, nor even at
a grammar school, except nine months when I was a child."
Here the governor sprung from his seat, and staring at Ben, cried out,
"the devil! well, and where--where did you get your education, pray?"
"At home, sir, in a tallow chandler's shop."
"In a tallow chandler's shop!" screamed the governor.
"Yes, sir; my father was a poor old tallow chandler, with sixteen
children, and I the youngest of all. At eight he put me to school, but
finding he could not spare the money from the rest of the children to
keep me there, he took me home into the shop, where I assisted him by
twisting the candle wicks and filling the moulds all day, and at night
I read by myself. At twelve, my father bound me to my brother, a
printer, in Boston, and with him I worked hard all day at the press
and cases, and again read by myself at night."
Here the governor, spanking his hands together, put up a loud whistle,
while his eye-balls, wild with surprise, rolled about in their sockets
as if in a mighty mind to hop out. "Impossible, young man!" he
exclaimed: "Impossible! you are only sounding my credulity. I can
never believe one half of all this." Then turning to the captain, he
said, "captain, you are an intelligent man, and from Boston; pray tell
me can this young man here, be aiming at any thing but to quiz me?"
"No, indeed, please your excellency," replied the captain, "Mr.
Franklin is not quizzing you. He is saying what is really true, for I
am acquainted with his father and family."
The governor then turning to Ben said, more moderately, "Well, my dear
wonderful boy, I ask your pardon for doubting your word; and now pray
tell me, for I feel a stronger desire than ever to hear your objection
to learning the dead languages."
"Why, sir, I object to it principally on account of the shortness of
human life. Taking them one with another, men do not live above forty
years. Plutarch, indeed, puts it only thirty-three. But say forty.
Well, of this full ten years are lost in childhood, before any boy
thinks of a Latin grammar. This brings the forty down to thirty. Now
of such a moment as this, to spend five or six years in learning the
dead languages, especially when all the best books in those languages
are translated into ours, and besides, we already have more books on
every subject than such short-lived creatures can ever acquire, seems
very preposterous."
"Well, but what are you to do with their great poets, Virgil and
Homer, for example; I suppose you would not think of translating Homer
out of his rich native Greek into our poor homespun English, would
you?"
"Why not, sir?"
"Why I should as soon think of transplanting a pine-apple from Jamaica
to Boston."
"Well, sir, a skilful gardener, with his hot-house, can give us nearly
as fine a pine-apple as any in Jamaica. And so Mr. Pope, with his fine
imagination, has given us Homer, in English, with more of his beauties
than ordinary scholars would find in him after forty years' study of
the Greek. And besides, sir, if Homer was not translated, I am far
from thinking it would be worth spending five or six years to learn to
read him in his own language."
"You differ from the critics, Mr. Franklin; for the critics all tell
us that his beauties are inimitable."
"Yes, sir, and the naturalists tell us that the beauties of the
basilisk are inimitable too."
"The basilisk, sir! Homer compared with the basilisk! I really don't
understand you, sir."
"Why, I mean, sir, that as the basilisk is the more to be dreaded for
the beautiful skin that covers his poison, so Homer for the bright
colourings he throws over bad characters and passions. Now, as I don't
think the beauties of poetry are comparable to those of philanthropy,
nor a thousandth part so important to human happiness, I must confess
I dread Homer, especially as the companion of youth. The humane and
gentle virtues are certainly the greatest charms and sweeteners of
life. And I suppose, sir, you would hardly think of sending your son
to Achilles to learn these."
"I agree he has too much revenge in his composition."
"Yes, sir, and when painted in the colours which Homer's glowing fancy
lends, what youth but must run the most imminent risk of catching a
spark of bad fire from such a blaze as he throws on his pictures?"
"Why this, though an uncommon view of the subject, is, I confess, an
ingenious one, Mr. Franklin; but surely 'tis overstrained."
"Not at all, sir; we are told from good authority, that it was the
reading of Homer that first put it into the head of Alexander the
great to become a HERO: and after him of Charles the 12th. What
millions of human beings have been slaughtered by these two great
butchers is not known; but still probably not a tythe of what have
perished in duels between individuals from the pride and revenge
nursed by reading Homer."
"Well, sir," replied the governor, "I never heard the prince of bards
treated in this way before. You must certainly be singular in your
charges against Homer."
"I ask your pardon, sir, I have the honour to think of Homer exactly
as did the greatest philosopher of antiquity; I mean Plato, who
strictly forbids the reading of Homer in his republic. And yet Plato
was a heathen. I don't boast myself as a christian; and yet I am
shocked at the inconsistency of our Latin and Greek teachers
(generally christians and DIVINES too,) who can one day put Homer into
the hands of their pupils, and in the midst of their recitations can
stop them short to point out the _divine beauties_ and _sublimities_
which the poet gives to his hero, in the bloody work of slaughtering
the poor Trojans; and the next day take them to church to hear a
discourse from Christ on the blessedness of meekness and forgiveness.
No wonder that hot-livered young men thus educated, should despise
meekness and forgiveness, as mere cowards' virtues, and deem nothing
so glorious as fighting duels, and blowing out brains."
Here the governor came to a pause, like a gamester at his last trump.
But perceiving Ben cast his eyes on a splendid copy of Pope's works,
he suddenly seized that as a _fine_ opportunity to turn the
conversation. So stepping up, he placed his hand on his shoulder, and
in a very familiar manner said, "Well, Mr. Franklin, there's an author
that I am sure you'll not quarrel with; an author that I think you'll
pronounce _faultless_."
"Why, sir," replied Ben, "I entertain a most exalted opinion of Pope;
but still, sir, I think he is not without his faults."
"It would puzzle you, I suspect, Mr. Franklin, as keen a critic as you
are, to point out _one_."
"Well, sir," answered Ben, hastily turning to the place, "what do you
think of this famous couplet of Mr. Pope's--
"Immodest words admit of no defence,
For want of decency is want of sense."
"I see no fault there."
"No, indeed!" replied Ben, "why now to my mind a man can ask no better
excuse for any thing wrong he does, than his _want of sense_."
"Well, sir," said the governor, sensibly staggered, "and how would you
alter it?"
"Why, sir, if I might presume to alter a line in this great Poet, I
would do it in this way:--
"Immodest words admit but _this_ defence--
That want of decency is want of sense."
Here the governor caught Ben in his arms as a delighted father would
his son, calling out at the same time to the captain, "How greatly am
I obliged to you, sir, for bringing me to an acquaintance with this
charming boy? O! what a delightful thing it would be for us old
fellows to converse with sprightful youth if they were but all like
him!--But the d----l of it is, most parents are as blind as bats to
the true glory and happiness of their children. Most parents never
look higher for their sons than to see them delving like muckworms for
money; or hopping about like jay-birds, in fine feathers. Hence their
conversation is generally no better than froth and nonsense."
After several other handsome compliments on Ben, and the captain
expressing a wish to be going, the governor shook hands with Ben,
begging at the same time that he would for ever consider him as one of
his fastest friends, and also never came to New-York without coming to
see him.