his father proceeded to expose the faults of the poetical effusion. He
did not spare the young author at all; nor was he cautious and lenient
in his criticisms. On the other hand, he was severe. And he went on
until Benjamin began to feel sorry that he had ever written a scrap of
poetry.
"There, I want you should promise me," continued 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," suggested Benjamin, whose
estimation of his literary venture was modified considerably by this
time. "Perhaps I may yet write something worthy of being read. You
could not expect me to write like Pope to begin with."
"No; nor to end with," retorted his father. "You are not a poet, and
there is no use in your trying to be. Perhaps you can learn to write
prose well; but poetry is another thing. Even if you were a poet I
should advise you to let the business alone, for poets are usually
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 was 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 his son, although what he said of
his verses was substantially true, as his son freely admitted in
manhood. He overlooked the important fact that it was a commendable
effort of the boy to try to improve his mind. Some of the best poets
who have lived wrote mere doggerel when they began. Also, many of our
best prose writers were exceedingly faulty at first. It is a noble
effort for a boy to put his thoughts into language, and Mr. Franklin
ought to have recognized it as such. If he does not succeed in the
first instance, by patience, industry, 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 have borne the censure of that, since it was done
by his direction. Doubtless, his brother regarded the propriety of the
act less, because he had an eye on the pecuniary profits of the
scheme.
The decided opposition that Mr. Franklin showed to verse-making put a
damper upon Benjamin's poetic aspirations. The air-castle that his
youthful imagination had built, in consequence of the rapid sale of
his wares, tumbled in ruins. He went back to the office and his work
quite crestfallen.
The reader must bear in mind that this incident occurred before the
discussion of Benjamin with John Collins upon female education,
related in a former chapter. We shall see that his father's criticisms
on his arguments in that discussion proved of great value to him.
"What has happened now, Ben?" inquired James, observing that his
brother looked despondent and anxious. "Are you bringing forth more
poetry?"
"Father doesn't think much of my printing and selling verses of my
own," answered Benjamin. "He has given me such a lecture that I am
almost ashamed of myself."
"How is that? Don't he think they are worthy of print?"
"No. He do not see any merit in them at all. He read them over in his
way, and counted faults enough to show that there is precious little
poetry in me. A beggar and a poet mean about the same thing to him."
"He ought to remember that you are not as old as you will be, if you
live; and you will make improvement from year to year. You can't
expect to write either prose or verse well without beginning and
trying."
"All the trial in the world can do nothing for me, I should judge from
father's talk. You ought to have heard him; and he did not spare you
for suggesting the printing and sale of the pieces on the street."
Benjamin said this in a tone of bitter disappointment.
"Well, I suppose that he has heard of two men disagreeing on a
matter," remarked James. "All is, he and I do not agree. I consider
the whole thing wise and proper, and he does not. That is all there is
to it."
Perhaps it was a good thing for Benjamin to meet with this obstacle in
his path to success. Rather discouraging, it is true, nevertheless
suited to keep him humble. Benjamin confessed in manhood, that 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. That removed the danger. After such a
severe handling he was not inclined to over-rate his poetical talents.
It had the effect, also, to turn his attention almost wholly to prose
writing, in which he became distinguished, as we shall see hereafter.
A single verse of these ballads only has descended to our times. It is
from the second mentioned--the capture of the pirate, as follows:
"Come, all you jolly sailors,
You all so stout and brave;
Come, hearken, and I'll tell you
What happened on the wave.
Oh! 't is of that bloody Blackbeard
I'm going now to tell;
How as to gallant Maynard
He soon was sent to hell--
With a down, down, down, derry down."
Franklin said of this ballad episode:
"I now took a strong inclination for poetry, and wrote some little
pieces. My brother, supposing it might turn to account, encouraged me,
and induced me to compose two occasional ballads. One was called 'The
Light-house Tragedy,' and contained an account of the shipwreck of
Captain Worthilake with his two daughters; the other was a sailor's
song, on taking the famous _Teach_, or 'Blackbeard, the Pirate.' They
were wretched stuff, in street-ballad style; and when they were
printed, my brother sent me about the town selling them. The first
sold prodigiously, the event being recent, and having made a great
noise. This success flattered my vanity; but my father discouraged me
by criticising my performances and telling me that verse-makers were
generally beggars. Thus I escaped being a poet, and probably a very
bad one."
From the time that Mr. Franklin criticised his son's argument with
John Collins on female education, Benjamin made special efforts to
improve his style. He knew that Addison's style was regarded as a
model, so he purchased an old volume of his 'Spectator,' and set
himself to work with a determination to make his own style Addisonian.
He subjected himself to the severest test in order to improve, and
counted nothing too hard if he could advance toward that standard.
His own account of his perseverance and industry in studying his
model, as it appears in his "Autobiography," will best present the
facts.
"About this time I met with an odd volume of the 'Spectator.' I had
never before seen any of them. I bought it, read it over and over, and
was much delighted with it. I thought the writing excellent, and
wished if possible to imitate it. With that view I took some of the
papers, and making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence,
laid them by a few days, and then, without looking at the book, tried
to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at
length, and as fully as it had been expressed before, in any suitable
words that should occur to me. Then I compared my Spectator with the
original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them. But I
found that I wanted a stock of words, or readiness in recollecting and
using them, which I thought I should have acquired before that time,
if I had gone on making verses; since the continual search for words
of the same import, but of different length to suit the measure, or of
different sound for the rhyme, would have laid me under a constant
necessity of searching for variety, and also have tended to fix that
variety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore, I took some
of the tales in the 'Spectator,' and turned them into verse; and,
after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, turned them
back again.
"I also sometimes jumbled my collection of hints into confusion, and
after some weeks endeavored to reduce them into the best order before
I began to form the full sentences and complete the subject. This was
to teach me method in the arrangement of the thoughts. By comparing my
work with the original, I discovered many faults, and corrected them;
but I sometimes had the pleasure to fancy that, in certain particulars
of small consequence, I had been fortunate enough to improve the
method or the language, and this encouraged me to think that I might
in time come to be a tolerable English writer; of which I was
extremely ambitious. The time I allotted for writing exercises, and
for reading, was at night, or before work began in the morning, or on
Sundays, when I contrived to be in the printing house, avoiding as
much as I could the constant attendance at public worship, which my
father used to exact of me when I was under his care, and which I
still continued to consider a duty, though I could not afford time to
practise it."
Let any boy of even moderate abilities subject himself to such rigid
discipline for intellectual improvement as Benjamin did, and his
progress will be rapid, and his attainments remarkable. Such
application and persistent effort win always.
In a similar manner Benjamin acquired the Socratic method of
reasoning, which he found at the end of the English grammar that he
studied. Subsequently he purchased "Xenophon's Memorabilia" because it
would afford him assistance in acquiring the Socratic style. He
committed to memory, wrote, practised doing the same thing over and
over, persevering, overcoming, conquering. He acquired the method so
thoroughly as to be expert therein, and practised it with great
satisfaction to himself. Many years thereafter he spoke of the fact as
follows:
"While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an English
grammar (I think it was Greenwood's), having at the end of it two
little sketches on the Arts of Rhetoric and Logic, the latter
finishing with a dispute in the Socratic method. And, soon after, I
procured Xenophon's 'Memorable Things of Socrates,' wherein there are
many examples of the same method. I was charmed with it, adopted it,
dropped my abrupt contradiction and positive argumentation, and put on
the humble inquirer. And being then, from reading Shaftesbury and
Collins, made a doubter, as I already was in many points of our
religious doctrines, I found this method the safest for myself, and
very embarrassing to those against whom I used it; therefore I took
delight in it, practised it continually, and grew very artful and
expert in drawing people, even of superior knowledge, into concessions
the consequences of which they did not foresee, entangling them in
difficulties out of which they could not extricate themselves, and so
obtaining victories that neither myself nor my cause always deserved.
"I continued this method some few years, but gradually left it,
retaining only the habit of expressing myself in terms of modest
diffidence, never using, when I advanced any thing that may possibly
be disputed, the words _certainly, undoubtedly_, or any others that
give the air of positiveness to an opinion; but rather saying, _I
conceive_, or _apprehend_, a thing to be so and so; _It appears to
me_, or _I should not think it, so or so, for such and such reasons_;
or, _I imagine it to be so_; or, _It is so, if I am not mistaken_.
This habit, I believe, has been of great advantage to me, when I have
had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and persuade men into measures
that I have been from time to time engaged in promoting."
This and the preceding chapter show that a book may decide the future
character and destiny of a man, by inspiring thought, kindling
ambition and a lofty aim, stimulating the mental powers, inspiring
practical and, perhaps, elegant composition, and consecrating the
whole being to a definite purpose. All this was true of Benjamin
Franklin.
Rev. John Sharp said, "Shakespeare and the Bible have made me bishop
of York." Wesley claimed that the "Imitation of Christ" and "Taylor's
Holy Living and Dying" determined his calling and character. Henry
Martyn was made a missionary by reading the lives of Brainard and
Carey. Pope was indebted to Homer for his poetical inspiration, and it
was the origin of his English "Iliad." Bentham read "Telemachus" in
his youth, and, many years afterwards, he said, "That romance may be
regarded as the foundation-stone of my whole character." Goethe became
a poet in consequence of reading the "Vicar of Wakefield." Carey was
fired to go on a mission to the heathen by reading "Voyages of Captain
Cook." Samuel Drew credited his eminent career to reading Locke's
"Essay on the Understanding." The lives of Washington and Henry Clay
awakened aspirations in Lincoln's soul, that impelled him forward and
gave direction to his life. The national system of education in Great
Britain grew out of a book. Joseph Lancastar read "Clarkson on the
Slave Trade," when he was fourteen years of age, and it awakened his
enthusiasm to teach the blacks in the West Indies. Without the
knowledge of his parents he went thither, and commenced labors for
their mental and moral improvement. His parents learned where he was
and sent for him; but his heart was thoroughly in sympathy with
benevolent work, and he opened a school for the poor at home. So great
was his success that the town, after a few years, erected a commodious
building for his school; and here was the foundation of the present
system of education in the mother-country.
The author once advised a youth of fourteen to read certain books,
accustoming himself to write down in a note-book striking facts and
thoughts for preservation. At the same time he was advised to procure
a blank book and write therein a sentence or short paragraph each day,
without omission, the sentence or paragraph to contain the development
of some thought that was waiting utterance. At that time there was no
prospect that the youth would ever receive a liberal education. He was
a farmer's son, and his father was unable to educate him. The most the
author had in view was to provide him,--a bright, active, promising
boy, fond of reading,--with a source of improving entertainment and
profit. But he caught the idea with so much enthusiasm, and reduced it
to practice so thoroughly, that an unquenchable desire for an
education was nursed into controlling power; and he went through
college, studied theology, became pastor of one of the largest
Congregational churches in the country, stood among the most eloquent
preachers in the land at thirty, received the degree of Doctor of
Divinity at forty, and now, at a little more than fifty, is the
beloved and able pastor of a large church in a New England city. This
result was brought about by the discipline of reading and writing in
his youth, very similar to that which made Benjamin a statesman and
philosopher.
XV.
THE "COURANT" IN TROUBLE.
"The Legislature is calling you to an account," said a customer to
James Franklin, as he entered the office. "The officials can't put up
with your cutting criticisms."
"I am aware of that. I heard that they were going to haul the
_Courant_ over the coals; but I do not see what they can do about it."
"They can stop your printing it, I suppose. It would be an intolerant
act, of course; but governments have never been tolerant towards the
press, you know."
"The day is coming when they will be," responded James. "A free press
is indispensable to human progress. So long as I run the _Courant_ it
shall speak plainly of intolerance and hypocrisy of every form. I
shall hit the corruption of the times in high places or low."
"That is sound doctrine," replied the customer. "I endorse it, but
government officials do not. They feel very sore, and will make
trouble for you if they can."
At that moment Benjamin came rushing into the office under
considerable excitement.
"The Assembly are having a hot debate over the _Courant_," he said. "I
heard a gentleman say that they would stop the publication of the
paper, if possible."
"Perhaps they will, but I doubt it," replied James. "The _Courant_
will not be muzzled so long as I own it."
"It ought not to be," responded the customer. "We need an outspoken
paper that will rebuke corruption and shams everywhere."
"And that is all the trouble," said Benjamin. "That is what the
Assembly and the ministers denounce. They are better friends of the
British government than they are of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay."
"True, very true," rejoined the customer. "The tyrannical control of
the English press is a shame; and yet these officials who truckle to
the English government want to try it on here. But such intolerance
ought not to be borne."
The _Courant_ was exceedingly sarcastic, and no writer was more so
than Benjamin, young as he was. This was the real cause of the action
of the Assembly. A letter appeared in the _Courant_, justly rebuking
the government for dilatoriness in looking after a piratical craft off
Block Island. The letter purported to come from Newport, and
represented that the Colony were fitting out two vessels to capture
her. It concluded thus:
"We are advised from Boston that the government of the Massachusetts
are fitting out a ship (the _Flying Horse_) to go after the pirates,
to be commanded by Capt. Peter Papillon, and it is thought he will
sail sometime this month, wind and weather permitting."
This thrust at the government for tardiness would be regarded as a
good joke now, but it was a crime then, and the aristocracy of the
Province, always working in harmony with the King and Parliament, was
stirred up by it to intolerance.
James was summoned before the Council, and his apprentice also, both
of whom stood upon their dignity, refusing to answer some of the
questions put. Benjamin was dismissed, because it was found that he
was only an apprentice. But James was put on trial and pelted with
questions. The legislators were determined to find out who wrote the
"scurrilous article aforesaid," as they called it, but James refused
to tell. He placed himself squarely upon his personal rights as a
citizen, and heroically stood by his guns. Come what might, he
resolved to defend his course before this august tribunal.
The Council became more exasperated by his defiant spirit, and
threatened him with incarceration. But James stood his ground like a
martyr, without thinking he would soon become one. Benjamin was
equally defiant, and refused to answer some questions, but was excused
on the ground that "an apprentice was bound not to betray his master's
secrets." James was convicted of "a high affront to the government,"
and the sheriff was directed to commit him to the Boston jail. These
new quarters were unexpected to him, but he went thither with the
consciousness that he was suffering for a brave effort to correct
public wrongs.
We have called attention to a single paragraph reflecting upon the
government in the _Courant_. It should be told that such criticisms
were frequent in its columns. The Governor, Council, and nearly all
the ruling class of the Province were in full sympathy with Great
Britain, while others were restive under what they regarded as
oppressive rule. Most of the ministers belonged to the first class,
and so came in for a share of the _Courant's_ sarcastic utterances.
The _Courant_ represented the second class--the common people--who
read its columns gladly.
Dr. Cotton Mather attacked the paper in a paragraph that shows what
the paper contained:
"We find a notorious, scandalous paper called _The Courant_, full
freighted with nonsense, unmanliness, raillery, profaneness,
immorality, arrogance, calumnies, lies, contradictions, and what not,
all tending to quarrels and divisions, and to debauch and corrupt the
mind and manners of New England."
Increase Mather, also, assailed the _Courant_ over his own signature,
denouncing it as a "wicked libel," because it represented him as one
of its supporters, using language uncommonly expressive.
"I do hereby declare," he said, "that, although I had paid for two or
three of them, I sent him word I was extremely offended with it. In
special, because in one of his _vile Courants_, he insinuates, that if
a _minister of God approve of a thing, it is a sign it is of the
Devil_; which is a horrid thing to be related! And he doth frequently
abuse the Ministers of Religion, and many other worthy persons, in a
manner which is intolerable. For these and such like reasons I
signified to the Printer that I would have no more of their _Wicked
Courants_. I, that have known what New England was from the Beginning,
cannot but be troubled to see the Degeneracy of this Place. I can well
remember when the Civil Government would have taken an effectual
Course to suppress such a _Cursed Libel_! which if it be not done I am
afraid that some _Awful Judgment_ will come upon this Land, and the
_Wrath of God will arise, and there will be no Remedy_. I cannot but
pity poor _Franklin_, who, though but a Young Man, it may be
_Speedily_ he must appear before the Judgment Seat of God, and what
answer will he give for printing things so vile and abominable?"
It is quite evident that neither James nor Benjamin had that respect
for the "Judgment Seat," which became Christians; but James replied in
the _Courant_ to this onslaught, maintaining that Mather had garbled
his quotations from the paper, or based his opinion on parts of
paragraphs which did not convey the full and correct meaning. He
turned the tables upon him, also, by declaring that, while Mather
ceased to be a subscriber to his paper, "he sent his grandson every
week to buy it; and, paying in this way a higher price, he was more of
a supporter of the paper than ever." In the same issue, too, James
said:
"I would likewise advise the enemies of the _Courant_ not to publish
any thing more against me unless they are willing to have the paper
continued. What they have already done has been resented by the Town
so much to my advantage, that above forty persons have subscribed for
the _Courant_ since the first of January, many of whom were before
subscribers to the other papers. And by one Advertisement more, the
Anti-Couranters will be in great danger of adding forty more to my
list before the first of March."
James showed that he did not say "if the Ministers of God approve of a
thing, it is a Sign it is of the Devil"; but that he did say, "Most of
the Ministers are for it, and that induces me to think it is from the
Devil; for he often makes use of good men as instruments to obtrude
his delusions on the world." There would be decided objection to the
first utterance, at that time or since; but the second one, what the
_Courant_ did say, was as near the truth as either side was found in
most matters.
To return to James in prison. He was confined in a cell, and was very
uncomfortable. It was a dirty, dismal place, meant to be a place of
punishment, indeed. James found it so, and he soon was ready to do
almost any thing for freedom of the yard. He sat down and addressed a
very humble petition to the Council, confessing his wrong, and
imploring forgiveness and release from his cell.
"I am truly sensible of and heartily sorry for the offense I have
given to the Court in the late _Courant_, relating to the fitting out
of a ship by the government, and I truly acknowledge my inadvertency
and folly therein in affronting the government, as also my
indiscretion and indecency when before the Court; for all of which I
intreat the Court's forgiveness, and pray for a discharge from the
stone prison, where I am confined by order of the Court, and that I
may have the liberty of the yard, being much indisposed, and suffering
in my health by the said confinement."
While the Council are considering this petition, we will see what has
become of the _Courant_. The whole charge of it devolved on Benjamin
from the time his brother was imprisoned, and he fearlessly and ably
met the emergency. It was truly wonderful that a boy of sixteen should
shoulder the responsibility of such an enterprise, in such
circumstances, and carry it with so much courage and ease.