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LITTLE MASTERPIECES

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Little Masterpieces

Edited by Bliss Perry

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

SELECTIONS FROM AUTOBIOGRAPHY

POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC

ADVICE TO A YOUNG TRADESMAN

THE WHISTLE

NECESSARY HINTS TO THOSE
THAT WOULD BE RICH

MOTION FOR PRAYERS

SELECTED LETTERS

NEW YORK

DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO.
190 1

THE NEW YORK

nraic library
54624R

astlik. lknox and

TlLUtN FOL-NHATIONS
B 1940 L

Copyright, 1898, by

DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO.

Acknowledgment is due Messrs. G. P. Putnarn's Sons

for permission to use selections from the text of

Bigelow's edition of Franklin's Autobiography

Introduction

Introduction

This volume of selections from the writings
of Benjamin Franklin begins with a series of
extracts from his "Autobiography." The oc-
casion and motive for the composition of this
work are explained in its opening paragraph.
It was begun in 1771. Franklin, at that time
residing in England as the agent of the Ameri-
can colonies, was enjoying a week's leisure at
the country house of his friend Dr. Shipley,
the Bishop of St. Asaph's. He was in his sixty-
sixth year. The contrast between his present
position of honor and influence and the narrow
circumstances of his boyhood was striking,
though the full force of Franklin's personality
and his greatest services to his country were yet
to be displg,yed.

It was for the perusal of his own family, ap-
parently, that the memoirs were first under-
taken, and there is no evidence that at this time
Franklin consid-ered the question of their ulti-
mate publication. The composition was inter-
rupted after he had told the -story of his life up
to the period of his marriage. Thirteen years
later, in 1784, while living in France, he re-
sumed his task. The blank line on page 78 of

vii

Introduction

the present volume indicates the beginning of
the second portion, and its conclusion will be
found on page 102. The third and final section
of the memoirs was written in Philadelphia in
17S8, in the author's eighty-second year.

He writes under date of October 24th, 178S,
to his friend Benjamin Vaughan, who had seen
and praised the first part of his manuscript :
" I am recovering from a long-continued gout,
and am diligently employed in writing the His-
tory of my Life, to the doing of which the per-
suasions contained in your letter of January
31st, 1783, have not a little contributed. I am
now in the year 1756, just before I was sent to
England. To shorten the work, as well as for
other reasons, I omit all facts and transactions
that may not have a tendency to benefit the
young reader, by showmg him from my exam-
ple, and my success in emerging from poverty,
and acquiring some degree of wealth, power,
and reputation, the advantages of certain modes
of conduct which I observed, and of avoiding
the errors which were prejudicial to me. If a
writer can judge projDerly of his own work, I
fancy, on reading over what is already done,
that the book will be found entertaining, inter-
esting, and useful, more so than I expected
when I began it."

Entertaining, interesting, and useful the
"Autobiography" surely is. The extracts
chosen relate largely to Franklin's early life,
and to the formation of his habits and charac-

viii

Introduction

ter. His " Rules of Conduct," one of the most
curious documents in the history of morals, is
given entire. Franklin's activity as a citizen
of Philadelphia is illustrated by two extracts
entitled " Public Affairs" and " Civic Pride"—
although the reader should remember that there
are no headings or chapter divisions in the
original. The account of his singular friendship
with George Whitefield is reprinted in full, and
there are two brief passages relating to the
famous Franklin stove and to the Doctor's ex-
periments with electricity.

Of the literary value of the " Autobiography"
but little need be said. Its ease and original-
ity, its humor, its combination of shrewd worldli-
ness an,d overflowing benevolence, have long
since given it a place among the great auto-
biographies. Franklin's own manuscript, it
may be added, after surviving singular vicissi-
tudes of fortune, was printed for the first time
in 1868, under the editorship of Mr. John Bige-
low. This text, differing in many points from
the one originally published by Williami Tem-
ple Franklin in 1S17, and preserving Franklin's
occasionally inconsistent spelling, has been here
reprinted by permission.

The text of " Poor Richard's Almanac," like-
wise, is believed to be an accurate reproduction
of the edition of 1757, which threw into con-
nected form the proverbial sayings that for
many years had given spice to Frankhn's an-
nual " Almanacs." The motive that led him to

ix

Introduction

the collection and publication of these curt, wise
comments upon life and the world is described
in the " Autobiography," in a passage here
printed as an introductory note to the "Al-
manac." Franklin's account of the contem-
porary influence of " Poor Richard" is no whit
exaggerated. Mr. John T. Morse, Jr., one ot
Franklin's recent biographers, says : " ' Poor
Richard ' was the revered and popular school-
master of a young nation during its period of
tutelage. His teachings are among the power-
ful forces which have gone to shaping the hab-
its of Americans. His terse and picturesque
bits of the wisdom and the virtue of this w^orld
are familiar in our mouths to-day ; they mould-
ed our great-grandparents and their children ;
they have informed our popular traditions ;
they still influence our actions, guide our ways
of thinking, and establish our points of view,
with the constant control of acquired habits
which we little suspect."

The shrewd wit that was the salt of the
"Almanac" characterizes also Franklin's es-
says and miscellaneous writings. They are
models of an effective popular style that loses
no dignity in becoming colloquial. Carelessly
as Franklin often wrote, his acquaintance with
the best English prose and a happy instinct
that was quite his own kept him as far from
affectation as from dulness. His story of " The
Whistle" is perhaps the most famous of these
compositions, but they are all delightful.

Introduction

Nothing could be more perfect of its kind
than Franklin's speech in the Federal Conven-
tion of 17S7, in favor of opening its daily ses-
sions with prayer. It is decorous, eloquent,
irreproachable. Yet it seems to have convinced
but very few members of the Convention, and
in truth Franklin's real attitude toward that
other world whose assistance he then entreated
is difficult to determine with any certainty.
He was not " spiritually-minded" — as his friend
Whitefield would have understood that phrase.
Yet he sought virtue persistently, and in spite
of early "errata" the printer's life was gov-
erned by noble impulses and guided to worthy
ends. One of the ablest men of his century, he
was also one of the most useful.

Readers of this little volume will miss the
story of Franklin the patriot, the diplomatist,
the statesman ; they will have merely a glimpse
of the scientist ; but the temper of the man is
revealed upon every page. It is betrayed in
his casual letters : in the lines about " pruden-
tial algebra" to Dr. Priestley ; in the familiar,
" You are ni}^ enemy, and I am Yours," to his
friend Strahan the printer ; in the admiring,
generous sentences addressed to George Wash-
ington ; in the account of his peaceful closing
years written to his old companion, the Bishop
of St. Asaph's. Franklin lived happily and died
content, assured of the respect and gratitude of
mankind. " Take one thing with another," he
wrote to his sister, " and the world is a pretty

xi

Introduction

good sort of a world, and it is our duty to make
the best of it and be thankful." That is a
more cheery philosophy than modern men of
letters have uniformly possessed, yet it remains
to be proved that pessimism is a valuable equip-
ment for the pursuit of literature. "We have
had plenty of gloomy, stormy geniuses since
Franklin's da}-, but we have had very few men
who could write a better page of English prose.

Bliss Perry.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Editor's Introduction . . . v

Autobiography — Selections

Early Life . . . . i

Settling Down . . . .76

Rules of Conduct . . .86

Public Affairs . . . .102

George Whitefield . . .108

The Franklin Stove . . .115
Civic Pride .... 117

Philosophical Experiments . . 125

Poor Richard's Almanac . . .131

Selected Essays

Advice to a Young Tradesman . 153

The Whistle . . . .156

Necessary Hints to those that would be

rich . . . . .160

Motion for Prayers . . . 162

Letters

To Dr. Priestley . . . .167

To Mr. Strahan . . . .169

To General Washington . . 170

To Dr. Mather . . . .172

To the Bishop of St. Asaph's . . I75

Autobiograph}^ of Benjamin
Franklin.

Autobiography of Benjamin
Franklin.

Early Life.

TWYFORD, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's^ 1771.
Dear Son : I have ever had pleasure in ob-
taining any little anecdotes of my ancestors.
You may remember the inquiries I made among
the remains of my relations when you were
with me in England, and the journey I under-
took for that purpose. Imagining it may be
equally agreeable to you to know the circum-
stances of my life, many of which you are yet
unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoy-
ment of a week's uninterrupted leisure in my
present country retirement, 1 sit down to write
them for you. To which I have besides some
other inducements. Having emerged from the
poverty and obscurity in which I was born and
bred, to a state of affluence and some degree of
reputation in the world, and having gone so
far through life with a considerable share o£
felicity, the conducing means I made use of,
which with the blessing of God so well suc-

3

Benjamin Franklin

ceeded, my posterity may like to know, as
they may find some of them suitable to their
own situations, and therefore fit to be imi-
tated.

Tliat felicity, when I reflected on it, has in-
duced me sometimes to say, that were it offered
to my choice, I should have no objection to a
repetition of the same life from its beginning,
only asking the advantages authors have in a
second edition to correct some faults of the
first. So I might, besides correcting the faults,
change some sinister accidents and events of it
for others more favorable. But though this
were denied, I should still accept the offer.
Since such a repetition is not to be expected,
the next thing like living one's life over again
seems to be a recollection of that life, and to
make that recollection as durable as possible by
putting it down in writing.

Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination
so natural in old men, to be talking of them-
selves and their own past actions ; and I shall
indulge it without being tiresome to others,
who, through respect to age, might conceive
themselves obliged to give me a hearing, since
this may be read or not as any one pleases.
And, lastly (I may as well confess it, since my
denial of it will be believed by nobody), perhaps
I shall a good deal gratify my own vanity.
Indeed, I scarce ever heard or saw the intro-
ductory words, " JVithoiit va7iity, I jnay say'^
etc. , but some vain thing immediately followed.

4

i^arly i^ile

Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever
share they may have of it themselves ; but I
give it fair quarter wherever I meet with it,
being persuaded that it is often productive of
good to the possessor, and to others that are
within his sphere of action ; and therefore, in
many cases, it would not be altogether absurd
if a man were to thank God for his vanity
among the other comforts of life.

And now I speak of thanking God, I desire
with all humility to acknowledge that I owe the
mentioned happiness of my past life to His kind
providence, which led me to the means I used
and gave them success. My belief of this in-
duces me to hope, though I must not p7-esuine,
that the same goodness will still be exercised
toward me, in continuing that happiness, or en-
abling me to bear a fatal reverse, which I may
experience as others have done ; the complex-
ion of my future fortune being known to Him
only in whose power it is to bless to us even
our afflictions.

The notes one of my uncles (who had the
same kind of curiosity in collecting family an-
ecdotes) once put into my hands, furnished me
with several particulars relating to our ances-
tors. From these notes I learned that the fam-
ily had lived in the same village, Ecton, in
Northamptonshire, for three hundred years,
and how much longer he knew not (perhaps
from the time when the name of Franklin, that
before was the name of an order of people, was

5

Benjamin Franklin

assumed by them as a surname when others
took surnames all over the kingdom), on a free-
hold of about thirty acres, aided by the smith's
business, which had continued in the family till
his time, the eldest son being always bred to
that business ; a custom which he and my
father followed as to their eldest sons. When
I searched the registers at Ecton, I found an
account of their births, marriages, and burials
from the year 1555 only, there being no regis-
ters kept in that parish at any time preceding.
By that register I perceived that I was the
youngest son of the youngest son for five gener-
ations back. My grandfather Thomas, who
was born in 1598, lived at Ecton till he grew
too old to follow business longer, when he went
to live with his son John, a dyer at Banbury,
in Oxfordshire, with whom my father served
an apprenticeship. There my grandfather died
and lies buried. We saw his gravestone in
1 758. His eldest son Thomas lived in the house
at Ecton, and left it with the land to his only
child, a daughter, who, with her husband, one
Fisher, of Wellingborough, sold it to Mr. Isted,
now lord of the manor there. My grandfather
had four sons that grew up, viz.: Thomas, John,
Benjamin, and Josiah. I will give you what
account I can of them, at this distance from my
papers, and if these are not lost in my absence,
you will among them find many more particu-
lars.

Thomas was bred a smith under his father ;

6

Early Life

but, being ingenious, and encouraged in learn-
ing (as all my brothers were) by an Esquire
Palmer, then the principal gentleman in that
parish, he qualified himself for the business of
scrivener ; became a considerable man in the
county ; was a chief mover of all public-spirited
undertakings for the county or town of North-
ampton, and his own village, of w^hich many
instances were related of him ; and much taken
notice of and patronized by the then Lord Hali-
fax. He died in 1702, January 6, old style, just
four years to a day before I was born. The ac-
count we received of his life and character from
some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck
you as something extraordinary, from its sim-
ilarity to what you knew of mine. " Had he
died on the same day," you said, " one might
have supposed a transmigration."

John was bred a dyer, I believe, of woollens.
Benjamin was bred a silk dyer, serving an ap-
prenticeship at London. He was an ingenious
man. I remember him well, for when I was a
boy he came over to my father in Boston, and
lived in the house with us some years. He
lived to a great age. His grandson, Samuel
Franklin, now lives in Boston. He left behind
him two quarto volumes, MS., of his own po-
etry, consisting of little occasional pieces ad-
dressed to his friends and relations. He had
formed a short-hand of his own, which he
taught me, but, never practising it, I have now
forgot it. I was named after this uncle, there

7

Benjamin Franklin

being a particular affection between him and
my father. He was very pious, a great attend-
er of sermons of the best preachers, which he
took down in his short-hand, and had with him
many volumes of them. He was also much of
a politician ; too much, perhaps, for his station.
There fell lately into my hands, in London, a
collection he had made of all the principal
pamphlets relating to public affairs, from 1641
to 1 71 7 ; many of the volumes are wanting as
appears by the numbering, but there still re-
main eight volumes in folio, and twenty-four
in quarto and octavo. A dealer in old books
met with them,. and knowing me by my some-
times buying of him, he brought them to me.
It seems my uncle must have left them here
when he went to America, which was above
fifty years since. There are many of his notes
in the margins.

This obscure family of ours was early in
the Reformation, and continued Protestants
through the reign of Queen ]\Iary, when they
were sometimes in danger of trouble on account
of their zeal against popery. They had got an
English Bible, and to conceal and secure it, it
was fastened open with tapes under and within
the cover of a joint-stool. When my great-
great-grandfather read it to his family, he
turned up the joint-stool upon his knees, turn-
ing over the leaves then under the tapes. One
of the children stood at the door to give notice
if he saw the apparitor coming, who was an

8

Early Life

officer of the spiritual court. In that case the
stool was turned down again upon its feet,
when the Bible remained concealed under it as
before. This anecdote I had from my uncle
Benjamin. The family continued all of the
Church of England till about the end of Charles
the Second's reign, when some of the ministers
that had been outed for non-conformity holding
conventicles in Northamptonshire, Benjamin
and Josiah adhered to them., and so continued
all their lives : the rest of the family remained
with the Episcopal Church.

Josiah, my father, married young, and car-
ried his wife with three children into New Eng-
land, about 1682. The conventicles having
been forbidden by law, and frequently dis-
turbed, induced some considerable men of his
acquaintance to remove to that country, and he
was prevailed with to accompany them thither,
where they expected to enjoy their mode of re-
ligion with freedom. By the same wife he had
four children more born there, and by a second
wife ten more, in all seventeen ; of which I re-
member thirteen sitting at one time at bistable,
who all grew up to be men and women, and
married ; I was the youngest son, and the
youngest child but two, and was born in Bos-
ton, New England. My mother, the second
wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter
Folger, one of the first settlers of New Eng-
land, of whom honorable mention is made by
Cotton Mather, in his church history of that

9

Benjamin Franklin

countf}', entitled " Magnalia Christi Ameri-
cana," as " rt goodly, learned EnglisJuiian,'"
if I remember the words rightly. I have heard
that he wrote sundry small occasional pieces,
but only one of them was printed, which I saw
now many years since. It was written in 1675,
in the home-spun verse of that time and peo-
ple, and addressed to those then concerned in
the government there. It was in favor of lib-
erty of conscience, and in behalf of the Bap-
tists, Quakers, and other sectaries that had been
under persecution, ascribing the Indian wars,
and other distresses that had befallen the coun-
try, to that persecution, as so many judgments
of God to punish so heinous an offense, and ex-
horting a repeal of those uncharitable laws.
The whole appeared to m.e as written with a
good deal of decent plainness and manly free-
dom. The six concluding lines I remember,
though I have forgotten the two first of the
stanza ; but the purport of them was, that his
censures proceeded from good-will, and, there-
fore, he would be known to be the author.

" Because to be a libeller (says he)

I hate it with my heart ;
From Sherburne town, where now I dwell,

My name I do put here ;
Without offense your real friend.

It is Peter Folgier."

My elder brothers were all put apprentices to
different trades. I was put to the grammar-
school at eight years of age, my father intend-

10

Early Life

ing to devote me, as the tithe of his sons, to the
service of the Church. My early readiness in
learning to read (which must have been very
early, as I do not remember when I could not
read), and the opinion of all his friends, that I
should certainly make a good scholar, encour-
aged him in this purpose of his. My uncle
Benjamin, too, approved of it, and proposed to
give me all his short-hand volumes of sermons,
I suppose as a stock to set up with, if I would
learn his character. I continued, however, at
the grammar-school not quite one year, though
in that time I had risen gradually from the
middle of the class of that year to be the head
of it, and farther was removed into the next
class above it, in order to go with that into the
third at the end of the year. But my father in
the meantime, from a view of the expense of a
college education, which having so large a fam-
ily he could not well afford, and the mean living
many so educated were afterwards able to ob-
tain— reasons that he gave to his friends in my
hearing, — altered his first intention, took me
from the grammar-school, and sent me to a
school for writing and arithmetic, kept by a
then famous man, Mr. George Brownell, very
successful in his profession generally, and that
by mild, encouraging methods. Under him I
acquired fair writing pretty soon, but I failed
in the arithmetic, and made no progress in it.
At ten years old I was taken home to assist my
father in his business, which was that of a tal-

II

Benjamin Franklin

low-chandler and soap-boiler, a business he was
not bred to, but had assumed on his arrival in
New England, and on finding his dying trade
would not maintain his family, being in little
request. Accordingly, I was employed in cut-
ting wick for the candles, filling the dipping
mold and the molds for cast candles, attending
the shop, going of errands, etc.

I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclina-
tion for the sea, but my father declared against
it ; however, living near the water, I was much
in and about it, learnt early to swim well and
to manage boats ; and when in a boat or canoe
with other boys I was commonly allowed to
govern, especially in any case of difficulty ; and
upon other occasions I was generally a leader
amone the bovs, and sometimes led them into
scrapes, of which I will mention one instance,
as it shows an early projecting public spirit,
though not then justly conducted.

There was a salt-marsh that bounded part of
the mill-pond, on the edge of which, at high
water, we used to stand to fish for minnows.
By much trampling we had made it a mere
quagmire. "My proposal was to build a wharf
there fit for us to stand upon, and I showed my
comrades a large heap of stones which were in-
tended for a new house near the marsh, and
which would very well suit our purpose. Ac-
cordingly, in the evening, when the workmen
were gone, I assembled a number of my play-
fellows, and working with them diligently like

12

Early Life

so many emmets, sometimes two or three to a
stone, we brought them all away and built our
little wharf. The next morning the workmen
were surprised at missing the stones, which
were found in our wharf. Inquiry was made
after the removers ; we were discovered and
complained of ; several of us were corrected by
our fathers ; and, though I pleaded the useful-
ness of the work, mine convinced me that noth-
ing was useful which was not honest.

I think you may like to know something of
his person and character. He had an excellent
constitution of body, was of middle stature,
but well set, and very strong ; he was ingen-
ious, could draw prettily, was skilled a little in
music, and had a clear, pleasing voice, so that
when he played psalm tunes on his violin and
sung withal, as he sometimes did in an evening
after the business of the day was over, it was
extremely agreeable to hear. He had a me-
chanical genius, too, and on occasion was very
handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools ;
but his great excellence lay in a sound under-
standing and solid judgment in prudential mat-
ters, both in private and publick affairs. In
the latter, indeed, he was never employed, the
numerous family he had to educate and the
straitness of his circumstances keeping him
close to his trade ; but I remember well his
being frequently visited by leading people,- who
consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the
town or of the church he belonged to, and

13

Benjamin Franklin

showed a good deal of respect for his judgment
and advice ; he was also much consulted by
private persons about their affairs when any
difficulty occurred, and frequently chosen an
arbitrator between contending parties. At his
table he liked to have as often as he could some
sensible friend or neighbor to converse with,
and always took care to start some ingenious or
useful topic for discourse, which might tend to
improve the minds of his children. By this
means he turned our attention to what was
good, just, and prudent in the conduct of life,
and little or no notice was ever taken of what
related to the victuals on the table, whether it
was well or ill dressed, in or out of season, of
good or bad flavor, preferable or inferior to this
or that other thing of the kind, so that I was
bro't up in such a perfect inattention to those
matters as to be quite indifferent what kind of
food was set before me, and so unobservant of
it, that to this day if I am asked I can scarce
tell a few hours after dinner what I dined upon.
This has been a convenience to me in travel-
ling, where my companions have been some-
times very unhappy for want of a suitable grati-
fication of their more delicate, because better
instructed, tastes and appetites.

My mother had likewise an excellent consti-
tution ; she suckled all her ten children. I
never knew either my father or mother to have
any sickness but that of which they died, he at
89, and she at 85 years of age. They lie buried

14

Early Life

together at Boston, where I some years since
placed a marble over their grave, with this in-
scription :

JosiAH Franklin,

and

Abiah his wife,

lie here interred.

They lived lovingly together in wedlock

fifty-five years.

Without an estate, or any gainful employment,

By constant labor and industry,

with God's blessing,
They maintained a large family

comfortably,

and brought up thirteen children

and seven grandchildren

reputabl3\

From this instance, reader,

Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,

And distrust not Providence.

He was a pious and prudent man ;

She, a discreet and virtuous woman.

Their youngest son.

In filial regard to their memory,

Places this stone.
J. F. born 1655, died 1744, ^tat 89.
A. F. born 1667, died 1752, 85.

By my rambling digressions I perceive my-
self to be grown old. I us'd to write more
methodically. But one does not dress for
private company as for a public ball, 'T is
perhaps only negligence.

To return : I continued thus employed in my
father's business for two years, that is, till I
was twelve years old ; and my brother John,
who was bred to that business, having left my
father, married, and set up for himself at Rhode
Island, there was all appearance that I was
destined to supply his place, and become a tal-
low-chandler. But my dislike to the trade con-
tinuing, my father was under apprehensions

15

Benjamin Franklin

that if he did not find one for me more agree-
able, I should break away and get to sea, as
his son Josiah had done, to his great vexation.
He therefore sometimes took me to walk with
him, and see joiners, bricklayers, turners,
braziers, etc.. at their work, that he might ob-
serve my inclination, and endeavor to fix it on
some trade or other on land. It has ever since
been a pleasure to me to see good workmen
handle their tools ; and it has been useful to
me, having learnt so much by it as to be able
to do little jobs myself in my house when a
workman could not readily be got, and to con-
struct little machines for my experiments, while
the intention of making the experiment was
fresh and warm in my mind. My father at last
fixed upon the cutler's trade, and my uncle
Benjamin's son Samuel, who was bred to that
business in London, being about that time
established in Boston, I was sent to be with
him some time on liking. But his expectations
of a fee with me displeasmg my father, I was
taken home again.

From a child I was fond of reading, and all
the little money that came into my hands was
ever laid out in books. Pleased with the Pil-
grim's Progress, my first collection was of John
Bunyan's works in separate little volumes. I
afterward sold them to enable me to buy
R. Burton's Historical Collections ; they were
small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40 or 50 in
all. My father's little library consisted chiefly

16

Early Life

of books in polemic divinity, most of whicli I
read, and have since often regretted that, at a
time wlien I had such a thirst for knowledge,
more proper books had not fallen in my way,
since it was now resolved I should not be a
clergyman. Pkitarch's Lives there was in
which I read abundantly, and I still think that
time spent to great advantage. There was
also a book of De Foe's, called an Essay on
Projects, and another of Dr. Mather's, called
Essays to do Good, which perhaps gave me a
turn of thinking that had an influence on some
of the principal future events of my life.

This bookish inclination at length determined
my father to make me a printer, though he had
already one son (James) of that profession. In
1717 my brother James returned from England
with a press and letters to set up his business
in Boston. I liked it much better than that of
my father, but still had a hankering for the
sea. To prevent the apprehended effect of such
an inclination, my father was impatient to have
me bound to my brother. I stood out some
time, but at last was persuaded and signed the
indentures when I was yet but twelve years
old. I was to serve as an apprentice till I was
twenty-one years of age, only I was to be
allowed journeyman's wages during the last
year. In a little time I made great proficiency
in the business, and became a useful hand to
my brother. I now had access to better books.
An acquaintance with the apprentices of book-

Benjamin Franklin

sellers enabled me sometimes to borrow a small
one, which I was careful to return soon and
clean. Often I sat up in my room reading the
greatest part of the night, when the book was
borrowed in the evening and to be returned
early in the morning, lest it should be missed
or wanted.

And after some time an ingenious trades-
man, Mr. ]\Iatthew Adams, who had a pretty
collection of books, and who frequented our
printing-house, took notice of me, invited me
to his library, and very kindly lent me such
books as I chose to read. I now took a fancy
to poetry, and made some little pieces ; my
brother, thinking it might turn to account, en-
couraged me, and put me on composing occa-
sional ballads. One was called "The Light-
house Tragedy," contained an account of the
drowning of Captain Worthilake, with his two
daughters : the other was a sailor's song, on
the taking of Teach (or Blackbeard) the pirate.
They were wretched stuff, in the Grub-street-
ballad style ; and when they were printed he
sent me about the town to sell them. The first
sold wonderfully, the event being recent, hav-
ing made a great noise. This flattered my
vanity ; but my father discouraged me by ridi-
culing my performances, and telling me verse-
makers were generally beggars. So I escaped
being a poet, most probably a very bad one ;
but as prose writing has been of great use to
me in the course of my life, and was a principal

iS

Early Life

• means of my advancement, I shall tell you
how, in such a situation, I acquired what little
ability I have in that way.

There was another bookish lad in the town,
John Collins by name, with whom I was inti-
mately acquainted. We sometimes disputed,
and very fond we were of argument, and very
desirous of confuting one another, which dis-
putatious turn, by the way, is apt to become a
very bad habit, making people often extremely
disagreeable in company by the contradiction
that is necessary to bring it into practice ; and
thence, besides souring and spoiling the con-
versation, is productive of disgusts and, per-
haps, enmities where you may have occasion for
friendship. I had caught it by reading my
father's books of dispute about religion. Per-
sons of good sense, I have since observed, sel-
dom fall into it, except lawyers, university men,
and men of all sorts that have been bred at
Edinborough.

A question was once, somehow or other,
started between Collins and me, of the pro-
priety of educating the female sex in learning,
and their abilities for study. He was of opin-
ion that it was improper, and that they were
naturally unequal to it. I took the contrary
side, perhaps a little for dispute's sake. He
was naturally more eloquent, had a ready
plenty of words ; and sometimes, as I thought,
bore me down more by his fluency than by the
strength of his reasons. As we parted without

19

Benjamin Franklin

settling the point, and were not to see one an-
other again for some time, I sat down to put
my arguments in writing, which I copied fair
and sent to him. He answered, and I replied.
Three or four letters of a side had passed, when
my father happened to find my papers and read
them. Without entering into the discussion,
he took occasion to talk to me about the manner
of my writing ; observed that, though I had
the advantage of my antagonist in correct spell-
ing and pointing (which I ow'd to the printing-
house), I fell far short in elegance of expression,
in method and in perspicuity, of which he con-
vinced me by several instances, I saw the jus-
tice of his remarks and thence grew more atten-
tive to the manner in writing, and determined
to endeavor at improvement.

About this time I met with an odd volume of
the Spectator. It was the third. 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 this view I took
some of the papers, and, making short hints of
the sentiment in each sentence, laid them by a
few days, and then, without looking at the
book, try'd to compleat 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 come to hand.
Then I compared my Spectator with the orig-
inal, discovered some of my faults, and cor-

20

Early Life

rected them. But I found I wanted a stock of
words, or a 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 occasion 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 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 collections 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 compleat the
paper. This was to teach me method in the
arrangement of thoughts. By comparing my
work afterwards with the original, I discovered
many faults and amended them ; but I some-
times had the pleasure of fancying that, in cer-
tain particulars of small import, I had been
lucky enough to improve the method or the
language, and this encouraged me to think I
might possibly in time come to be a tolerable
English writer, of which I was extreamly am-
bitious. My time for these exercises and for
reading was at night, after work or before it
began in the morning, or on Sundays, when
1 contrived to be in the printing-house alone,

21

Benjamin Franklin

evading as much as I could the common at-
tendance on public worship which my father
used to exact of me when I was under his care,
and which indeed I still thought a duty, though
I could not, as it seemed to me, afford time to
practise it.

When about i6 years of age I happened to
meet with a book, written by one Try on, rec-
ommending a vegetable diet. I determined to
go into it. My brother, being yet unmarried,
did not keep house, but boarded himself and
his apprentices in another family. My refusing
to eat flesh occasioned an inconveniency, and
I was frequently chid for my singularity. I
made myself acquainted with Tryon's manner
of preparing some of his dishes, such as boiling
potatoes or rice, making hasty pudding, and a
few others, and then proposed to my brother,
that if he would give me, weekly, half the
money he paid for my board, I would board
myself. He instantly agreed to it, and I pres-
ently found that I could save half what he paid
me. This was an additional fund for buying
books. But I had another advantage in it.
My brother and the rest going from the print-
ing-house to their meals, I remained there alone,
and, despatching presently my light repast,
which often was no more than a biscuit or a
slice of bread, a handful of raisins or a tart
from the pastry-cook's, and a glass of water,
had the rest of the time till their return for
study, in v\-hich I made the greater progress,

22

Early Life

from that greater clearness of head and quicker
apprehension which usually attend temperance
in eating and drinking.

And now it was that, being on some occasion
made asham'd of my ignorance in figures,
which I had twice failed in learning when at
school, I took Cocker's book of Arithmetick,
and went through the whole by myself with
great ease. I also read Seller's and Shermy's
books of Navigation, and became acquainted
with the little geometry they contain ; but never
proceeded far in that science. And I read
about this time Locke " On Human Under-
standing," and the "Art of Thinking," by
Messrs. du Port Royal.

While I was intent on improving my lan-
guage, I met with an English grammar (I think
it was Greenwood's), at the end of which there
were two little sketches of the arts of rhetoric
and logic, the latter finishing with a specimen
of a dispute in the Socratic method ; and soon
after I procur'd Xenophon's " Memorable
Things of Socrates," wherein there are many
instances of the same method. I was charm' d
with it, adopted it, dropt my abrupt contradic-
tion and positive argumentation, and put on
the humble inquirer and doubter. And being
then, from reading Shaftesbury and Collins,
become a real doubter in many points of our
religious doctrine, I found this method safest
for myself and very embarrassing to those
against whom I used it ; therefore I took a de-

23

Benjamin Franklin

light in it, practis'd 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 ob-
taining victories that neither myself nor my
cause always deserved. I continu'd 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 ad-
vanced any thing that may possibly be dis-
puted, the words certamly, undojtdfedly, or
any others that give the air of positiveness to
an opinion ; but rather say, I conceive or appre-
hend a thing to be so and so ; it appears to me,
or I should think it so or so, for such and such
reasons ; or I i))iagi)ie it to be so ; or // is so,
if I am not jnistaken. This habit, I believe,
has been of great advantage to me when I have
had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and per-
suade men into measures that I have been from
time to time engag'd in promoting ; and, as
the chief ends of conversation are to inform or
to be informed, to please or to persuade, I
wish well-meaning, sensible men would not
lessen their power of doing good by a positive,
assuming manner, that seldom fails to disgust,
tends to create opposition, and to defeat every
one of those purposes for which speech was
given to us, to wit, giving or receiving infor-
mation or pleasure. For, if you would inform,

24

Early Life

a positive and dogmatical manner in advancing
your sentiments may provoke contradiction and
prevent a candid attention. If you wish in-
formation and improvement from the knowl-
edge of others, and yet at the same time ex-
press yourself as firmly fix'd in your present
opinions, modest, sensible men, who do not
love disputation, will probably leave you undis-
turbed in the possession of your error. And
by such a manner, you can seldom hope to rec-
ommend yourself in pleasing your hearers, or
to persuade those whose concurrence j-ou de-
sire. Pope says, judiciously :

" Me7i should be taught as if you taugJit thetn 7tot,
And things unknozvn proposed as things for gof^ :

farther recommending to us

" To speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence."

And he might have coupled with this line that
which he has coupled with another, I think,
less properly :

" For want of modesty is want of sense."

If you ask. Why less properly ? I must repeat
the lines :

" Immodest words admit of no defense.
For want of modesty is want of sense."

Now, is not wafit of se?ise (where a man is so
unfortunate as to want it) some apology for his
want of modesty ? and would not the lines
stand more justly thus ?

" Immodest words admit but this defense,
That want of modesty is want of sense."

25

Benjamin Franklin

This, however, I should submit to better judg-
ments.

My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun to
print a newspaper. It was the second that ap-
peared in America, and was called the Nem
Englajid Courant. The only one before it
was the Boston News-Letter. I remember
his being dissuaded by some of his friends from
the undertaking, as not likely to succeed, one
newspaper being, in their judgment, enough
for America. At this time (1771) there are not
less than five-and-twenty. He went on, how-
ever, with the undertaking, and after having
worked in composing the types and printing
off the sheets, I was employed to carry the pa-
pers thro' the streets to the customers.

He had some ingenious men among his
friends, who amus'd themselves by writing
little pieces for this paper, which gain'd it
credit and made it more in demand, and these
gentlemen often visited us. Hearing their con-
versations and their accounts of the approba-
tion their papers were received with, I was ex-
cited to try my hand among them ; but, being
still a boy, and suspecting that my brother
would object to printing any thing of mine in
his paper if he knew it to be mine, I contrived
to disguise my hand, and, writing an anony-
mous 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 call'd in as usual. They

26

Early Life

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 differ-
ent 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
esteem'd them.

Encourag'd, however, by this, I wrote and
convey 'd in the same way to the press several
more papers, which were equally approv'd ;
and I kept my secret till my small fund of sense
for such performances was pretty well exhaust-
ed, and then I discovered it, when I began to
be considered a little more by my brother's ac-
quaintance, and in a manner that did not quite
please him, as he thought, probably with rea-
son, that it tended to make me too vain. And
perhaps this might be one occasion of the differ-
ences that we began to have about this time.
Though a brother, he considered himself as my
master, and me as his apprentice, and accord-
ingly expected the same services from me as
he would from another, while I thought he de-
mean'd me too much in some he requir'd of
me, who from a brother expected more indul-
gence. Our disputes were often brought be-
fore our father, and I fancy I was either gen-
erally in the right, or else a better pleader, be-
cause the judgment was generally in my favor.
But my brother was passionate, and had often

27

Benjamin Franklin

beaten me, which I took extreamly amiss ; and,
thinking my apprenticeship very tedious, I was
continually wishing for some opportunity of
shortening it, which at length offered in a man-
ner unexpected.*

One of the pieces in our newspaper on some
political point, which I have now forgotten,
gave offense to the Assembly. He was taken up,
censur'd, and imprison'd for a month, by the
Speaker's warrant, I suppose, because he would
not discover his author. I too was taken up and
examin'd before the council ; but, tho' I did not
give them any satisfaction, they content' d them-
selves 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 pri-
vate 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 unfavor-
able light, as a j-oung genius that had a turn
for libelling and satyr. My brother's discharge
was accompany'd with an order of the House
(a very odd one), that "James Fraiiklm should
110 longer print the paper called the Neiu
England CourantV

There was a consultation held in our print-

* I fancy his harsh and tyrannical treatment of me
might be a means of impressing- me with that aversion
to arbitrary power that has stuck to me through my
whole life.

28

Early Life

ing-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 contri-
vance was that my old indenture should be re-
turn'd 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 ven-
ture 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 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-natur'd 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

29

Benjamin Franklin

other printing-house of tlie town, by going
round and speaking to every master, who ac-
cordingly refus'd 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 inclin'd to leave Boston when I reflected
that I had already made myself a little obnox-
ious to the governing party, and, from the ar-
bitrary proceedings of the Assembly in my
brother's case, it was likely I might, if I stay'd,
soon bring myself into scrapes ; and farther,
that my indiscrete disputations about religion
began to make me pointed at with horror by
good people as an infidel or atheist. I deter-
min'd on the point, but my father now siding
with my brother, I was sen'iHble that, if I at-
tempted to go openly, means would be used to
prevent me. My friend Collins, therefore, im-
dertook 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 a naughty
girl with child, whose friends would compel
me to marry her, and therefore I could not ap-
pear 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
300 miles from home, a boy of but 17, without
the least recommendation to, or knowledge of
any person in the place, and with very little
money in my pocket.

30

Early Life

My inclinations for the sea were by this time
worn out, or I might now have gratify 'd them.
But, having a trade, and supposing myself a
pretty good workman, I offer 'd my service to
the printer in the place, old Mr. William Brad-
ford, who had been the first printer in Penn-
sylvania, 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 be-
lieve he may employ you." Philadelphia was
a hundred miles further ; I set out, however, in
a boat for Amboy, leaving my chest and things
to follow me round by sea.

In crossing the ba}^ we met with a squall that
tore our rotten sails to pieces, prevented our
getting into the Kill, 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 desir'd I would dry
for him. It proved to be my old favorite au-
thor, 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

31

Benjamin Franklin

of Europe, and suppose it has been more gen-
erally read than any other book, except perhaps
the Bible, Honest John was the first that I
know of who mix'd 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 pres-
ent at the discourse. De Foe 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 land-
ing, there being a great surff on the stony
beach. So we dropt anchor, and swung round
towards the shore. Some people came down to
the water edge and hallow'd to us, as we did
to them ; biit the wind was so high, and the
surff so loud, that we could not hear so as to
understand each other. There were canoes on
the shore, and we made signs, and hallow'd
that they should fetch us ; but they either did
not understand us, or thouglit it impracticable,
so they went away, and night coming on, we
had no reme ly but to wait till the wind should
abate ; and, 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, leak'd through to us, so
that we were soon almost as wet as he. In this

32

Early Life

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 sail'd on being salt.

In the evening I found myself very feverish,
and went in to bed ; but, having read some-
where that cold water drank plentifully was
good for a fever, I follow'd 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, 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 thor-
oughly soak'd, and by noon a good deal tired ;
so I stopt 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 ask'd me, I was sus-
pected to be some runaway servant, and in dan-
ger of being taken up on that suspicion. How-
ever, 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 en-
tered into conversation with me 'while I took
some refreshment, and, finding I had read a
little, became very sociable and friendly. Our
acquaintance continu'd as long as he liv'd. He
had been, I imagine, an itinerant doctor, for

33

Benjamin Franklin

there was no town in England, or country in
Europe, of which he could not give a very par-
ticular account. He had some letters, and was
ingenious, but much of an unbeliever, and
wickedly undertook, some years after, to traves-
tie the Bible in doggrel 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 pub-
lished ; but it never was.

At his house I lay that night, and the next
morning reach'd Burlington, but had the mor-
tification to find that the regular boats were
gone a little before my coming, and no other
expected to go before Tuesday, this being Sat-
urday ; wherefore I returned to an old woman
in the town, of whom I had bought ginger-
bread to eat on the water, and ask'd her advice.
She invited me to lodge at her house till a pas-
sage by water should offer ; and being tired
with my foot travelling, I accej)ted the invita-
tion. 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 towards Philadelphia, with several peo-
ple in her. They took me in, and, as there was

34

Early Life

no wind, we row'd all the way ; and about mid-
night, not having 3^et 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, 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 com-
pany knew the place to be Cooper's Creek, a
little above Philadelphia, which we saw as soon
as we got ovit of the creek, and arriv'd 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 de-
scription 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 cloaths being to
come round by sea. I was dirty from my jour-
ney ; my pockets were stuff' d out with shirts
and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where
to look for lodging. I was fatigued with trav-
elUiig, 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 cop-
per. The latter I gave the people of the boat
for my passage, who at first refus'd it, on ac-
count of my rowing ; but I insisted on their
taking it. A man being sometimes more gen-

35

Benjamin Franklin

erous when he has but a little money than when
he has plenty, perhaps thro' 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 immedi-
ately to the baker's he directed me to, in Sec-
ond-street, and ask'd for biscuit, intending such
as we had in Boston ; but they, it seems, were
not made in Philadelphia. Then I asked for a
three-penny loaf, and was told they had none
such. So not considering or knowing the dif-
ference of money, and the greater cheapness
nor the names of his bread, I bade him give me
three-penny worth of any sort. He gave me,
accordingly, three great puff}'' rolls. I was sur-
pris'd at the quantity, but took it, and, having
no room in my pockets, walk'd 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 1 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

36

Early Life

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 peo-
ple in it, who were all walking the same way.
I joined them, and thereby was led into the
great meeting-house of the Quakers near the
market. I sat down among them, and, after
looking round awhile and hearing nothing said,
being very drowsy thro' labor and want of rest
the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and con-
tinu'd so till the meeting broke up, when one
was kind enough to rouse me. This was, there-
fore, 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 lik'd, 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 '11 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 run-
away.

After dinner my sleepiness return'd, and
being shown to a bed, I lay down without un-

37

Benjamin Franklin

dressing, and slept till six in the evening, was
caird 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, travelling on horse-
back, had got to Philadelphia before me. He
introduc'd me to his son, who receiv'd me civ-
illy, gave me a breakfast, but told me he did
not at present want a hand, being lately sup-
pli'd with one ; but there was another printer
in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, per-
haps, 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 ; per-
haps you may want such a one." He ask'd
me a few questions, put a composing stick in
my hand to see how I work'd, and then said he
would employ me soon, though he had just then
nothing for me to do ; and, taking old Brad-
ford, whom he had never seen before, to be
one of the townspeople that had a good will for
him, enter'd 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

3S

Early Life

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 reli'd 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, and the other
a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer,
who was greatly surpris'd when I told him who
the old man was.

Keimer's printing-house, I found, consisted
of an old shatter'd press and one small, worn-
out font of English, 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 man-
ner was to compose them in the types directly
out of his head. So there being no copy, but
one pair of cases, and the Elegy likely to re-
quire all the letter, no one could help him. I
endeavor' d to put his press (which he had not
yet us'd, and of which he understood nothing)
into order fit to be work'd with ; and promising
to come and print off his Elegy as soon as he
should have got it ready, I return 'd to Brad-
ford's, who gave me a little job to do for the
present, and there I lodged and dieted. A few
days after, Keimer sent for me to print off the
Elegy. And now he had got another pair of

Benjamin Franklin

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, tho'
something of a scholar, was a mere compositor,
knowing nothing of press-work. He had been
one of the French prophets, and could act their
enthusiastic agitations. At this time he did
not profess any particular religion, but some-
thing 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
work'd 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 appear-
ance in the eyes of Miss Read than I had done
when she first happen'd to see me eating my
roll in the street.

I began now to have some acquaintance
among the young people of the town, that were
lovers of reading, with whom I spent my even-
ings very pleasantly ; and gaining money by
my industry and frugality, I lived very agree-
ably, forgetting Boston as much as I could, and
not desiring that any there should know where
I resided, except my friend Collins, who was
in my secret, and kept it when I wrote to him.

40

Early Life

At length an incident happened that sent me
back again much sooner than I had intended.
I had a brother-in-law, Robert Holmes, master
of a sloop that traded between Boston and Dela-
ware. He being at Newcastle, forty miles be-
low Philadelphia, heard there of me, and wrote
me a letter mentioning the concern of my
friends in Boston at my abrupt departure, as-
suring me of their good will to me, and that
every thing would be accommodated to my
mind if I would return, to which he exhorted
me very earnestly. I wrote an answer to his
letter, thank' d him for his advice, but stated
my reasons for quitting Boston fully and in
such a liofht as to convince him I was not so
wrong as he had apprehended.

Sir William Keith, governor of the province,
was then at Newcastle, and Captain Holmes,
happening to be in company wnth him when
my letter came to hand, spoke to him of me,
and show'd him the letter. The governor read
it, and seem'd surpris'd when he was told my
age. He said I appear' d a young man of prom-
ising parts, and therefore should be encour-
aged ; the printers at Philadelphia were wretch-
ed ones ; and, if I would set up there, he made
no doubt I should succeed ; for his part, he
would procure me the public business, and do
me every other service in his power. This my
brother-in-law afterward told me in Boston,
but I knew as yet nothing of it ; when, one
day, Keimer and I being at work together near

41

Benjamin Franklin

the window, we saw the governor and another
gentleman (which proved to be Colonel French,
of Newcastle), finely dress'd, come directly
across the street to our house, and heard them,
at the door.

Keimer ran down immediatel}', thinking it a
visit to him ; but the gov^ernor inquir'd for me,
came up, and with a condescension and polite-
ness I had been quite unus'd to, made me
many compliments, desired to be acquainted
with me, blam'd me kindly for not having made
myself known to him when I first came to the
place, and would have me away with him to
the tavern, where he was going with Colonel
French to taste, as he said, some excellent
Madeira. I was not a little surpris'd, and
Keimer star'd like a pig poison'd. I went,
however, with the governor and Colonel French
to a tavern, at the corner of Third-street, and
over the Madeira he propos'd my setting up
my business, laid before me the probabilities of
success, and both he and Colonel French as-
sur'd me I should have their interest and influ-
ence in procuring the public business of both
governments. On my doubting whether my
father would assist me in it, Sir William said
he would give me a letter to him, in which he
would state the advantages, and he did not
doubt of prevailing with him. So it was con-
cluded I should return to Boston in the first
vessel, with the governor's letter recommend-
ing me to mv father. In the mean time the in-

42

Early Life

tention was to be kept a secret, and I went on
working with Keimer as usual, the governor
sending for me now and then to dine with him,.
a very great honor I thought it, and conversing
with me in the most affable, familiar, and
friendly manner imaginable.

About the end of April, 1724, a little vessel
offer 'd for Boston. I took leave of Keimer as
going to see my friends. The governor gave
me an ample letter, saying many flattering
things of me to my father, and strongly recom-
mending the project of my setting up at Phila-
delphia as a thing that must make my fortune.
We struck on a shoal in going down the ba}- ,.
and sprung a leak ; we had a blustering time
at sea, and were oblig'd to pump almost con-
tinually, at which I took my turn. We arriv'd
safe, however, at Boston in about a fortnight.
I had been absent seven months, and my friends
had heard nothing of me ; for my br. Holmes
was not yet return'd, and had not written about
me. My unexpected appearance surpris'd the
family ; all were, however, very glad to see me,
and made me welcome, except my brother. I .
went to see him at his printing-house. I was
better dress'd than ever while in his service,,
having a genteel new suit from head to foot, a
watch, and my pockets lin'd with near five
pounds sterling in silver. He receiv'd me not
vei;y frankly, look'd me all over, and turn'd to
his work again.

The journeymen were inquisitive where I

43

Benjamin Franklin

had been, what sort of a country it was, and
how I lik'dit. I prais'd it much, and the happy
hfe I led in it, expressing strongly my inten-
tion of returning to it ; and, one of them asking
what kind of money we had there, I produc'd
a handful of silver, and spread it before them,
which was a kind of raree-show they had not
been us'd to, paper being the money of Boston.
Then I took an opportunity of letting them see
my watch ; and, lastly (my brother still grum
and sullen), I gave them a piece of eight to
drink, and took my leave. This visit of mine
offended him extremely ; for, when my mother
some time after spoke to him of a reconcilia-
tion, and of her wishes to see us on good terms
together, and that we might live for the future
as brothers, he said I had insulted him in such
a manner before his people that he could never
forget or forgive it. In this, however, he was
mistaken.

My father received the governor's letter with
some apparent surprise, but said little of it to
me for several days, when Capt. Holmes re-
turning he show'd it to him, ask'd him if he
knew Keith, and what kind of man he was ;
adding his opinion that he must be of small dis-
cretion to think of setting a boy up in business
who wanted yet three years of being at man's
estate. Holmes said what he could in favor of
the project, but my father was clear in the im-
propriety of it, and at last gave a flat denial to
it. Then he wrote a civil letter to Sir William,

44

Early Life

thanking him for the patronage he had so
kindly offered me, but declining to assist me as
yet in setting up, I being, in his opinion, too
young to be trusted with the management of a
business so important, and for which the prep-
aration must be so expensive.

My friend and companion Collins, who was a
clerk in the post-office, pleas'd with the account
I gave him of my new country, determined to
go thither also ; and, while I waited for my
father's determination, he set out before me by
land to Rhode Island, leaving his books, which
were a pretty collection of mathematicks and
natural philosophy, to come with mine and me
to New York, where he propos'd to wait for me.

My father, tho' he did not approve Sir Wil-
liam's proposition, was yet pleas'd that I had
been able to obtain so advantageous a charac-
ter from a person of such note where I had re-
sided, and that I had been so industrious and
careful as to equip myself so handsomely in so
short a time ; therefore, seeing no prospect of
an accommodation between my brother and
m^e, he gave his consent to my returning again
to Philadelphia, advis'd me to behave respect-
fully to the people there, endeavor to obtain the
general esteem, and avoid lampooning and
libeling, to which he thought I had too much
inclination ; telling me, that by steady industry
and a prudent parsimony 1 might save enough
by the time I was oneand-twenty to set me
up ; and that, if I came near the matter, he

45

Benjamin Franklin

would help me out with the rest. This was all
I could obtain, except some small gifts as
tokens of his and my mother's love, when I em-
bark'd again for New York, now with their ap-
probation and their blessing.

The sloop putting in at Newport, Rhode
Island, I visited my brother John, who had
been married and settled there some years.
He received me very affectionately, for he al-
ways lov'd me. A friend of his, one Vernon,
having some money due to him in Pennsyl-
vania, about thirty-five pounds currency, de-
sired I would receive it for him, and keep it
till I had his directions what to remit it in.
Accordingly, he gave me an order. This after-
wards occasion'd me a good deal of uneasiness.

At Newport we took in a number of passen-
gers for New York, among which were two
young women-, companions, and a grave, sensi-
ble, matron-like Quaker woman, with her at-
tendants. I had shown an obliging readiness
to do her some little services, which impress'd
her I suppose with a degree of good-will toward
me ; therefore, when she saw a daily growing
familiarity between me and the two young
women, which they appear'd to encourage, she
took me aside, and said, " Young man, I am
concern 'd for thee, as thou has no friend with
thee, and seems not to know much of the world,
or of the snares youth is expos'd to ; depend
upon it, those are very bad women ; I can see
it in all their actions ; and if thee art not upon

46

Early Life

thy guard, they will draw thee into some dan-
ger ; they are strangers to thee, and I advise
thee, in a friendly concern for thy welfare, to
have no acquaintance with them." As I
seem'd at first not to think so ill of them as she
did, she mentioned some things she had ob-
serv'd and heard that had escap'd my notice,
but now convinc'd me she was right. I thank'd
her for her kind advice, and promis'd to follow
it. When we arriv'd at New York, they told
me where they liv'd, and invited me to come
and see them ; but I avoided it, and it was well
I did ; for the next day the captain miss'd a
silver spoon and some other things, that had
been taken out of his cabin, and, knowing that
these were a couple of strumpets, he got a war-
rant to search their lodgings, found the stolen
goods, and had the thieves punish'd. So, tho'
we had escap'd a sunken rock, which we scrap 'd.
upon in the passage, I thought this escape of
rather more importance to me.

At New York I found my friend Collins, who
had arriv'd there some time before me. We
had been intimate from children, and had read
the same books together ; but he had the ad-
vantage of more time for reading and studying,
and a wonderful genius for mathematical learn-
ing, in which he far outstript me. While I liv'd
in Boston, most of my hours of leisure for con-
versation were spent with him, and he con-
tinu'd a sober as well as an industrious lad ;
was much respected for his learning by several

47

Benjamin Franklin

of the clergy and other gentlemen, and seemed
to promise making a good figure in life. But,
during my absence, he had acquir'd a habit of
sotting with brandy ; and I found by his own
account, and what I heard from others, that he
had been drunk every day since his arrival at
New York, and behav'd very oddly. He had
gam'd, too, and lost his money, so that I was
oblig'd to discharge his lodgings, and defray
his expenses to and at Philadelphia, which
prov'd extremely inconvenient to me.

The then governor of New York, Burnet (son
of Bishop Burnet), hearing from the captain
that a young man, one of his passengers, had a
great many books, desir'd he would bring me
to see him. I waited upon him accordingly,
and should have taken Collins with me but that
he was not sober. The gov'r. treated me with
great civility, show'd me his library, which was
a very large one, and we had a good deal of
conversation about books and authors. This
was the second governor who had done me the
honor to take notice of me ; which, to a poor
boy like me, was very pleasing.

We proceeded to Philadelphia. I received
on the way Vernon's money, without which we
could hardly have finish 'd our journey. Col-
lins washed to be employ' d in some counting-
house ; but, whether ^hey discover'd his dram-
ming by his breath, or by his behaviour, tho'
he had some recommendations, he met with no
success in any application, and continu'd lodg-

48

Early Life

ing and boarding at the same house with me,
and at my expense. Knowing I had that money
of Vernon's, he was continually borrowing of
me, still promising repayment as soon as he
should be in business. At length he had got
so much of it that I was distress'd to think
what I should do in case of being call'd on to
remit it.

His drinking continu'd, about which we
sometimes quarrel'd ; for, when a little intoxi-
cated, he was very fractious. Once, in a boat
on the Delaware with some other young men,
he refused to row in his turn. " I will be row'd
home," says he. " We will not row 3''ou," says
I, " You must, or stay all night on the water,"
says he, "just as you please." The others
said, "Let us row; what signifies it?" But,
my mind being soured with his other conduct,
I continu'd to refuse. So he swore he would
make me row, or throw me overboard ; and'
coming along, stepping on the thwarts, toward
me, when he came up and struck at me, I
clapped my hand under his crutch, and, rising,
pitched him head-foremost into the river. I
knew he was a good swimmer, and so was un-
der little concern about him ; but before he
could get round to lay hold of the boat, we had
with a few strokes pull'd her out of his reach ;
and ever when he drew near the boat, we ask'd
if he would row, striking a few strokes to slide
her away from him. He was ready to die with
vexation, and obstinately would not promise to

49

Benjamin Franklin

row. However, seeing him at last beginning
to tire, we lifted him in and brought him home
dripping wet in the evening. We hardly ex-
chang'd a civil word afterwards, and a West
India captain, who had a commission to procure
a tutor for the sons of a gentleman at Barba-
does, happening to meet with him, agreed to
carry him thither. He left me then, promising
to remit me the first money he should receive
in order to discharge the debt ; but I never
heard of him after.

The breaking into this money of Vernon's
was one of the first great errata of my life ; and
this affair show'd that my father was not much
out in his judgment when he suppos'd me too
young to manage business of importance. But
Sir William, on reading his letter, said he was
too prudent. There was great difference in
persons ; and discretion did not always accom-
pan)'- years, nor was youth always without it.
*' And since he will not set you up," says he,
" I will do it myself. Give me an inventor}'- of
the things necessary to be had from England,
and I will send for them. You shall repay me
when you are able ; I am resolv'd to have a
good printer here, and I am sure you must suc-
ceed. ' ' This was spoken with such an appear-
ance of cordiality, that I had not the least doubt
of his meaning what he said. I had hitherto
kept the proposition of my setting up, a secret
in Philadelphia, and I still kept it. Had it been
known that I depended on the governor, prob-

50

Early Life

ably some friend, that knew him better, would
have advis'd me not to rely on him, as I after-
wards heard it as his known character to be
liberal of promises which he never meant to
keep. Yet, unsolicited as he was by me, how
could I think his generous offers insincere ? I
believ'd him one of the best men in the world.

I presented him an inventory of a little
printing-house, amounting by my computation to
about one hundred pounds sterling. He lik'd
it, but ask'd me if my being on the spot in
England to choose the types, and see that every
thing was good of the kind, might not be of
some advantage. "Then," says he, "when
there, you may make acquaintances, and estab-
lish correspondences in the bookselling and
stationery way." I agreed that this might be
advantageous. "Then," says he, "get your-
self ready to go with Aujiz's"; which was the
annual ship, and the only one at that time
usually passing between London and Philadel-
phia. But it would be some months before
Anfiz's sail'd, so I continu'd working with
Keimer, fretting about the money Collins had
got from me, and in daily apprehensions of
being call'd upon by Vernon, which, however,
did not happen for some years after.

I believe i have omitted mentioning that, in
my first voyage from Boston, being becalm 'd
off Block Island, our people set about catching
cod, and hauled up a good many. Hitherto I
had stuck to my resolution of not eating animal

51

Benjamin Franklin

food, and on this occasion I cousider'd, with
my master Tr}-on, the taking every fish as a
kind of unprovoked murder, since none of them
had, or ever could do us any injury that might
justify the slaughter. All this seemed very
reasonable. But I had formerly been a great
lover of fish, and, when this came hot out of
the frying-pan, it smelt admirably well. I bal-
anc'd some time between principle and inclina-
tion, till I recollected that, when the fish were
opened, I saw smaller fish taken out of their
stomachs ; then thought I, "If you eat one an-
other, I don't see why we may n't eat you."
So I din'd upon cod very heartily, and con-
tinued to eat with other people, returning only
now and then occasionally to a vegetable diet.
So convenient a thing it is to be a reasofiable
creature, since it enables one to find or make
a reason for every thing one has a mind to do.

Keimer and 1 liv'd on a pretty good familiar
footing, and agreed tolerably well, for he sus-
pected nothing of my setting up. He retained
a great deal of his old enthusiasms and lov'd
argumentation. "We therefore had many dis-
putations. I used to work him so with my So-
cratic method, and had trepann'd him so often
by questions apparently so distant from any
point we had in hand, and yet by degrees lead
to the point, and brought him into difficulties
and contradictions, that at last he grew ridicu-
lously cautious, and would hardly answer me
the most common question, without asking

52

Early Life

first: " What do yoti i7iteiid to infer fj-Ofti
that .?" However, it gave him so high an opin-
ion of my abiUties in the confuting wa}^, that
he seriously proposed my being his colleague
in a project he had of setting up a new sect.
He was to preach the doctrines, and I was to
confound all opponents. When he came to ex-
plain with me upon the doctrines, I found sev-
eral conundrums which I objected to, unless I
might have my way a little too, and introduce
some of mine.

Keimer wore his beard at full length, because
somewhere in the Mosaic law it is said, " Thou
shalt not mar the corners of thy beards He
likewise kept the Seventh day, Sabbath ; and
these two points were essentials with him. I
dislik'd both ; but agreed to admit them upon
condition of his adopting the doctrine of using
no animal food. " I doubt," said he, " my con-
stitution will not bear that." I assur'd him it
would, and that he would be better for it. He
was usually a great glutton, and I promised
myself some div^ersion in half starving him.
He agreed to try the practice, if I would keep
him company. I did so, and we held it for
three months. We had our victuals dress'd,
and brought to us regularly by a woman in the
neighborhood, who had from me a list of forty
dishes, to be prepar'd for us at different times,
in all which there was neither fish, flesh, nor
fowl, and the whim suited me the better at this
time from the cheapness of it, not costing us

53

Benjamin Franklin

above eighteen pence sterling each per week.
1 have since kept several Lents most strictly,
leaving the common diet for that, and that for
the common, abruptly, without the least incon-
venience, so that I think there is little in the
advice of making those changes by easy grada-
tions. I went on pleasantl}-, but poor Keimer
suffered grievously, tired of the project, long'd
for the flesh-pots of Egypt, and order'd a roast
pig. He invited me and two women friends to
dine with him ; but, it being brought too soon
upon table, he could not resist the temptation,
and ate the whole before we came.

I had made some courtship during this time
to Miss Read. I had a great respect and affec-
tion for her, and had some reason to believe
she had the same for me ; but, as I was about
to take a long voyage, and we were both very
young, only a little above eighteen, it was
thought must prudent by her mother to prevent
our going too far at present, as a marriage, if
it was to take place, would be more convenient
after my return, when I should be, as I expect-
ed, set up in my business. Perhaps, too, she
thought my expectations not so well founded
as I imagined them to be.

My chief acquaintances at this time were
Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James
Ralph, all lovers of reading. The two first
were clerks to an eminent scrivener or convey-
ancer in the town, Charles Brogden ; the other
was clerk to a merchant. Watson w^as a pious,

54

Early Life

sensible young man, of great integrity ; the
others rather more lax in their principles of re-
ligion, particularly Ralph, who, as well as Col-
lins, had been unsettled by me, for which they
both made me suffer. Osborne was sensible,
candid, frank ; sincere and affectionate to his
friends ; but, in literary matters, too fond of
criticising. Ralph w^as ingenious, genteel in
his manners, and extremely eloquent ; I think
I never knew a prettier talker. Both of them
great admirers of poetry, and began to try their
hands in little pieces. Many pleasant walks we
four had together on Sundays into the woods,
near Schuylkill, where we read to one another,
and conferr'd on what we read.

Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the study of
poetry, not doubting but he might become emi-
nent in it, and make his fortune by it, alleging
that the best poets must, when they first began
to write, make as many faults as he did. Os-
borne dissuaded him, assur'd him he had no
genius for poetry, and advis'd him to think of
nothing beyond the business he was bred to ;
that, in the mercantile way, tho' he had no
stock, he might, by his diligence and punc-
tuality, recommend himself to employment as a
factor, and in time acquire wherewith to trade
on his own account. I approv'd the amusing
one's self with poetry now and then, so far as
to improve one's language, but no farther.

On this it was propos'd that we should each
of us, at our next meeting, produce a piece of

55

Benjamin Franklin

our own composing, in order to improve by our
mutual observations, criticisms, and corrections.
As language and expression were what we had
in view, we excluded all considerations of in-
vention by agreeing that the task should be a
version of the eighteenth Psalm, which de-
scribes the descent of Deity. When the time
of our meeting grew nigh, Ralph called on me
first, and let me know his piece was ready. I
told him I had been busy, and, having little in-
clination, had done nothing. He then show'd
me his piece for my opinion, and I much ap-
prov'd it, as it appear'd to me to have great
merit. " Now," says he, " Osborne never will
allow the least merit in any thing of mine, but
makes looo criticisms out of mere envy. He is
not so jealous of you ; I wish, therefore, you
would take this piece, and produce it as yours ;
I will pretend not to have had time, and so pro-
duce nothing. We shall then see what he will
say to it." It was agreed, and I immediately
transcrib'd it, that it might appear in my own
hand.

AVe met ; Watson's performance was read ;
there were some beauties in it, but many de-
fects. Osborne's was read ; it was much bet-
ter ; Ralph did it justice ; remarked some
faults, but applauded the beauties. He himself
had nothing to produce. I was backward ;
seemed desirous of being excused ; had not had
sufficient time to correct, etc.; but no excuse
would be admitted ; produce I must. It was

56

Early Life

read and repeated ; Watson and Osborne gave
tip the contest, and join'd in applauding it.
Ralph only made some criticisms, and propos'd
some amendments ; but I defended my text.
Osborne was against Ralph, and told him he
was no better a critic than poet, so he dropt the
argument. As the two went home together,
Osborne expressed himself still more strongly
in favor of what he thought my production ;
having restrain'd himself before, as he said,
lest I should think it flattery. " But who would
have imagin'd," said he, "that Franklin had
been capable of such a performance ; such
painting, such force, such fire ! He has even
improv'd the original. In his common conver-
sation he seems to have no choice of words ; he
hesitates and blunders ; and yet, good God !
how he writes !" When we next met, Ralph
discovered the trick we had plaid him, and Os-
borne was a little laught at.

This transaction fixed Ralph in his resolution
of becoming a poet. I did all I could to dis-
suade him from it, but he continued scribbling
verses till Pope cured him. He became, how-
ever, a pretty good prose writer. More of him
hereafter. But, as I may not have occasion
again to mention the other two, I shall just re-
mark here, that Watson died in my arms a few
years after, much lamented, being the best of
our set. Osborne went to the West Indies,
where he became an eminent lawyer and made
money, but died young. He and I had made a

57

Benjamin Franklin

serious agreement, that the one who happer^'d
first to die should, if possible, make a friendly-
visit to the other, and acquaint him how he
found things in that separate state. But he
never fulfiU'd his promise.

The governor, seeming to like my company,
had me frequently to his house, and his setting
me up was always mention'd as a fixed thing.
I was to take with me letters recommendatory
to a number of his friends, besides the letter of
credit to furnish me with the necessary money
for purchasing the press and types, paper, etc.
For these letters I was appointed to call at dif-
ferent times, when they were to be ready ; but
a future time was still named. Thus he went
on till the ship, whose departure too had been
several times postponed, was on the point of
sailing. Then, when I call'd to take my leave
and receive the letters, his secretary. Dr. Bard,
came out to me and said the governor was ex-
tremely busy in writing, but would be down at
Newcastle before the ship, and there the letters
would be delivered to me.

Ralph, though married, and having one child,
had determined to accompany me on this voy-
age. It was thought he intended to establish a
correspondence, and obtain goods to sell on
commission ; but I found afterwards, that,
thro' some discontent with his wife's relations,
he proposed to leave her on their hands, and
never return again. Having taken leave of my
friends, and interchang'd some r^omises with

58

Early Life

Miss Read, I left Philadelphia in the ship,
which anchor'd at Newcastle. The governor
was there ; but when I went to his lodging, the
secretary came to me from him with the civil-
lest message in the world, that he could not
then see me, being engaged in business of the
utmost importance, but should send the letters
to me on board, wish'd me heartily a good voy-
age and a speedy return, etc. I returned on
board a little puzzled, but still not doubting.

Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a famous lawyer of
Philadelphia, had taken passage in the same
ship for himself and son, and with Mr. Den-
ham, a Quaker merchant, and Messrs. Onion
and Russel, masters of an iron work in Mary-
land, had engag'd the great cabin ; so that
Ralph and I were forced to take up with a berth
in the steerage, and none on board knowing
us, were considered as ordinary persons. But
Mr. Hamilton and his son (it was James, since
governor) return 'd from Newcastle to Philadel-
phia, the father being recall'd by a great fee to
plead for a seized ship ; and, just before we
sail'd, Colonel French coming on board, and
showing me great respect, I was more taken
notice of, and, with my friend Ralph, invited
by the other gentlemen to come into the cabin,
there being now room. Accordingly, we re-
mov'd thither.

Understanding that Colonel French had
brought on board the governor's despatches, I
ask'd the captain for those letters that were to

59

Benjamin Franklin

be put under my care. He said all were put
into the bag together and he could not then
come at them ; but, before we landed in Eng-
land, I should have an opportunity of picking
them out ; so I was satisfied for the present,
and we proceeded on our voyage. We had a
sociable company in the cabin, and lived un-
commonly well, having the addition of all Mr.
Hamilton's stores, who had laid in plentifully.
In this passage INIr. Denham contracted a friend-
ship for me that continued during his life. The
voyage was otherwise not a pleasant one, as
we had a great deal of bad weather.

When we came into the Channel, the captain
kept his word with me, and gave me an oppor-
tunity of examining the bag for the governor's
letters. I found none* upon which my name
was put as under my care. I picked out six or
seven, that, by the handwriting, I thought
might be the promised letters, especially as one
of them was directed to Basket, the king's
printer, and another to some stationer. We
arriv'd in London the 24th of December, 1724.
I waited upon the stationer, who came first in
my way, delivering the letter as from Governor
Keith. " I don't know such a person," says
he ; but, opening the letter, " O ! this is from
Riddlesden. I have lately found him to be a
complete rascal, and I will have nothing to do
with him, nor receive any letters from him."

* Evidently intended for "some." — Ed.
60

Early Life

So, putting the letter into my hand, he turn'd
on his heel and left me to serve some customer.
I was surpris'd to find these were not the gov-
ernor's letters ; and, after recollecting and com-
paring circumstances, I began to doubt his sin-
cerity. I found my friend Denham, and opened
the whole affair to him. He let' me into Keith's
character ; told me there was not the least
probability that he had written any letters for
me ; that no one, who knew him, had the small-
est dependence on him ; and he laught at the
notion of the governor's giving me a letter of
credit, having, as he said, no credit to give.
On my expressing some concern about what I
should do, he advised me to endeavor getting
some employment in the way of my business.
" Among the printers here," said he, " you will
improve yourself, and when you return to
America, you will set up to greater advantage. "
We both of us happened to know, as well as
the stationer, that Riddlesden, the attorney,
was a very knave. He had half ruin'd Miss
Read's father by persuading him to be bound
for him. By this letter it appear'd there was a
secret scheme on foot to the prejudice of Ham-
ilton (suppos'd to be then coming over with us);
and that Keith was concerned in it with Riddles-
den. Denham, who was a friend of Hamil-
ton's, thought he ought to be acquainted with
it ; so, when he arriv'd in England, which was
soon after, partly from resentment and ill-will
to Keith and Riddlesden, and partly from good-

6i

Benjamin Franklin

will to him, I waited on him, and gave him the
letter. He thank' d me cordially, the informa-
tion being of importance to him ; and from that
time he became my friend, greatly to my ad-
vantage afterwards on many occasions.

But what shall we think of a governor's play-
ing such pitiful tricks, and imposing so grossly
on a poor ignorant boy ! It was a habit he had
acquired. He wish'd to please ever3'body ;
and, having little to give, he gave expectations.
He was otherwise an ingenious, sensible man,
a pretty good writer, and a good governor for
the people, tho' not for his constituents, the
proprietaries, whose instructions he sometimes
disregarded. Several of our best laws were of
his planning and passed during his adminis-
tration.

Ralph and I were inseparable companions.
We took lodgings together in Little Britain at
three shillings and sixpence a week — as much
as we could then afford. He found some rela-
tions, but they were poor, and unable to assist
him. He now let me know his intentions of re-
maining in London, and that he never meant
to return to Philadelphia, He had brought no
money with him, the whole he could muster
having been expended in paying his passage.
I had fifteen pistoles ; so he borrowed occasion-
ally of me to subsist while he was looking out
for business. He first endeavored to get into
the playhouse, believing himself qualify'd for
an actor, but Wilkes, to whom he apply'd, ad-

62

Early Life

vis'd him candidly not to think of that employ-
ment, as it was impossible he should succeed in
it. Then he propos'd to Roberts, a publisher
in Paternoster Row, to write for him a weekly
paper like the Spectator^ on certain conditions,
which Roberts did not approve. Then he en-
deavored to get employment as a hackney
writer, to copy for the stationers and lawyers
about the Temple, but could find no vacancy.

I immediately got into work at Palmer's, then
a famous printing-house in Bartholomew Close,
and here I continu'd near a year. I was pretty
diligent, but spent with Ralph a good deal of
my earnings in going to plays and other places
of amusement. We had together consumed all
my pistoles, and now just rubbed on from hand
to mouth. He seem'd quite to forget his wife
and child, and I, by degrees, my engagements
with Miss Read, to whom I never wrote more
than one letter, and that was to let her know I
was not likely soon to return. This was an-
other of the great errata of my life, which I
should wish to correct if I were to live it over
again. In fact, by our expenses, I was con-
stantly kept unable to pay my passage.

At Palmer's I was employed in composing
for the second edition of Wollaston's " Religion
of Nature." Some of his reasonings not ap-
pearing to me well founded, I wrote a little
metaphysical piece in which I made remarks on
them. It was entitled " Dissertation on Lib-
erty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I in-

63

Benjamin Franklin

scribed it to my friend Ralph ; I printed a
small number. It occasion 'd my being more
consider' d by Mr. Palmer as a young man of
some ingenuity, tho' he seriously expostulated
with me upon the principles of my pamphlet,
which to him appear'd abominable. My print-
ing this pamphlet was another erratum. While
I lodg'd in Little Britain I made an acquaint-
ance with one Wilcox, a bookseller, whose shop
was at the next door. He had an immense col-
lection of second-hand books. Circulating
libraries were not then in use ; but we agreed
that, on certain reasonable terms, which I have
now forgotten, I might take, read, and return
any of his books. This I esteem 'd a great ad-
vantage, and I made as much use of it as I
could.

My pamphlet by some means falling into the
hands of one Lyons, a surgeon, author of a
book entitled " The Infallibility of Human
Judgment," it occasioned an acquaintance be-
tween us. He took great notice of me, called
on me often to converse on those subjects, car-
ried me to the Horns, a pale ale house in

Lane, Cheapside, and introduced me to Dr.
Mandeville, author of the " Fable of the Bees,"
who had a club there, of which he was the soul,
being a most facetious, entertaining compan-
ion, Lyons, too, introduced me to Dr. Pem-
berton, at Batson's Coffee-house, who promis'd
to give me an opportunity, some time or other,
of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of which I

64

Early Life

was extremely desirous ; but this never hap-
pened.

I had brought over a few curiosities, among
which the principal was a purse made of the
asbestos, which purifies by fire. Sir Hans
Sloane heard of it, came to see me, and invited
me to his house in Bloomsbury Square, where
he show'd me all his curiosities, and persuaded
me to let him add that to the number, for which
he paid me handsomely.

In our house there lodg'd a young woman, a
milliner, who, I think, had a shop in the Clois-
ters. She had been genteelly bred, was sensi-
ble and lively, and of most pleasing conversa-
tion. Ralph read plays to her in the evenings,
they grew intimate, she took another lodging,
and he followed her. They liv'd together some
time ; but, he being still out of business, and
her income not sufficient to maintain them with
her child, he took a resolution of going from
London, to try for a country school, which he
thought himself well qualified to undertake, as
he wrote an excellent hand, and was a master
of arithmetic and accounts. This, however, he
deemed a business below him, and confident of
future better fortune, when he should be un-
willing to have it known that he once was so
meanly employed, he changed his name, and
did me the honor to assume mine ; for I soon
after had a letter from him, acquainting me
that he was settled in a small village (in Berk-
shire, I think it was, where he taught reading

65

Benjamin Franklin

and writing to ten or a dozen boys, at sixpence

each per week), recommending Mrs. T to

my care, and desiring me to write to him, direct-
ing for Mr. FrankUn, schoolmaster, at such a
place.

He continued to write frequently, sending
me large specimens of an epic poem which he
was then composmg, and desiring my remarks
and corrections. These I gave him from time
to time, but endeavor'd rather to discourage his
proceeding. One of Young's Satires was then
just published. I copy'd and sent him a great
part of it, w^hich set in a strong light the folly
of pursuing the Muses with any hope of ad-
vancement by them. All was in vain ; sheets
of the poem continued to come by every post.
In the meantime Mrs. T , having on his ac-
count lost her friends and business, was often
in distresses, and us'd to send for me, and bor-
row what I could spare to help her out of them.
I grew fond of her company, and, being at that
time under no religious restraint, and presum-
ing upon my importance to her, I attempted
familiarities (another erratum), which she re-
puls'd with a proper resentment, and acquainted
him with my behaviour. This made a breach
between us ; and, when he returned again to
London, he let me know he thought I had can-
cell'd all the obligations he had been under to
me. So I found I was never to expect his re-
paying me what I lent to him, or ad vane' d for
him. This, however, was not then of much

66

Early Life

consequence, as he was totally -unable ; and in
the loss of his friendship I found myself re-
lieved from a burthen, I now began to think
of getting a little money beforehand, and, ex-
pecting better work, I left Palmer's to work at
Watts's, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, a still
greater printing-house. ■ Here I continued all
the rest of my stay in London.

At my first admission into this printing-house
I took to working at press, imagining I felt a
want of the bodily exercise I had been us'd to
in America, where presswork is mix'd with
composing. I drank only water ; the other
workmen, near fifty in number, were great
guzzlers of beer. On occasion, I carried up
and down stairs a large form of types in each
hand, when others carried but one in both
hands. They wondered to see, from this and
several instances, that the Water-Ainerican,
as they called me, was stronger than them-
selves, who drank strong' beer ! We had an
alehouse boy who attended always in the house
to supply the workmen. My companion at the
press drank every day a pint before breakfast,
a pint at breakfast with his bread and cheese,
a pint between breakfast and dinner, a pint at
dinner, a pint in the afternoon about six o'clock,
and another when he had done his day's work.
I thought it a detestable custom ; but it was
necessary, he suppos'd, to drink strong beer
that he might be strong to labor. I endeav-
ored to convince him that the bodily strength

67

Benjamin Franklin

afforded by beer could only be in proportion to
the grain or flour of the barley dissolved in the
water of which it was made ; that there was
more flour in a pennyworth of , bread ; and
therefore, if he would eat that with a pint of
water, it would give him more strength than a
quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had
four or five shillings to pay out of his wages
every Saturday night for that muddling liquor ;
an expense I was free from. And thus these
poor devils keep themselves always under.

"Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have
me in the composing-room, I left the press-
men ; a new bien venu or sum for drink, being
five shillings, was demanded of me by the com-
positors. I thought it an imposition, as I had
paid below ; the master thought so too, and
forbad my paying it. I stood out two or three
weeks, was accordingly considered as an ex-
communicate, and had so many little pieces of
private mischief done me, by mixing my sorts,
transposing my pages, breaking my matter,
etc., etc., if I were ever so little out of the room,
and all ascribed to the chapel ghost, which
they said ever haunted those not regularly ad-
mitted, that, notwithstanding the master's pro-
tection, I found myself oblig'd to comply and
pay the money, convinc'd of the folly of being
on ill terms with those one is to live with con-
tinually.

I was now on a fair footing with them,
and soon acquir'd considerable influence. I

68

Early Life

propos'd some reasonable alterations in their
chapel laws, and carried them against all oppo-
sition. From my example, a great part of them
left their muddling breakfast of beer, and bread,
and cheese, finding they could with me be sup-
ply'd from a neighboring house with a large
porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled with
pepper, crumb'd with bread, and a bit of butter
in it, for the price of a pint of beer, viz., three
half-pence. This was a more comfortable as
well as cheaper breakfast, and kept their heads
clearer. Those who continued sotting with
beer all day, were often, by not paying, out of
credit at the alehouse, and us'd to make inter-
est with me to get beer ; their light, as they
phrased it, bei7ig out. I watch' d the pay-table
on Saturday night, and collected what I stood
engag'd for them, having to pay sometimes
near thirty shillings a week on their accounts.
This, and my being esteem'd a pretty good
rzggz'te, that is, a jocular verbal satirist, sup-
ported my consequence in the society. My
constant attendance (I never making a St.
Monday) recommended me to the master ; and
my uncommon quickness at composing occa-
sioned my being put upon all work of dispatch,
which was generally better paid. So I went
on now very agreeably.

My lodging in Little Britain being too re-
mote, I found another in Duke-street, opposite
to the Romish Chapel. It was two pair of stairs
backwards, at an Italian warehouse. A widow

69

Benjamin Franklin

lady kept the house ; she had a daughter, and
a maid servant, and a journeyman who attended
the warehouse, but lodg'd abroad. After send-
ing to inquire my character at the house where
I last lodg'd she agreed to take me in at the
same rate, 3s. 6d. per week ; cheaper, as she
said, from the protection she expected in hav-
ing a man lodge in the house. She was a wid-
ow, an elderly woman ; had been bred a Prot-
estant, being a clergyman's daughter, but was
converted to the Catholic religion by her hus-
band, whose memory she much revered ; had
lived much among people of distinction, and
knew a thousand anecdotes of them as far back
as the time of Charles the Second. She was
lame in her knees with the gout, and, therefore,
seldom stirred out of her room, so sometimes
wanted company ; and hers was so highly
amusing to me, that I was sure to spend an
evening with her whenever she desired it. Our
supper was only half an anchovy each, 'on a
very little strip of bread and butter, and half a
pint of ale between us ; but the entertainment
was in her conversation. ]My always keeping
good hours, and giving little trouble in the
family, made her unwilling to part with me ; so
that, when I talk'd of a lodging I had heard of,
nearer my business, for two shillings a week,
which, intent as I now was on saving money,
made some difference, she bid me not think of
it, for she would abate me two shillings a week
for the future ; so I remained with her at one

70

Early Life

shilling and sixpence as long as I staid in Lon-
don.

In a garret of her house there lived a maiden
lady of seventy, in the most retired manner, of
whom my landlady gave me this account : that
she was a Roman Catholic, had been sent
abroad when young, and lodg'd in a nunnery
with an intent of becoming a nun ; but, the
country not agreeing with her, she returned to
England, where, there being no nunnery, she
had vow'd to lead the life of a nun, as near as
might be done in those circumstances. Ac-
cordingly, she had given all her estate to char-
itable uses, reserving only twelve pounds a year
to live on, and out of this sum she still gave a
great deal in charity, living herself on water-
gruel only, and using no fire but to boil it.
She had lived many years in that garret, being
permitted to remain there gratis by successive
Catholic tenants of the house below, as they
deemed it a blessing to have her there. A
priest visited her to confess her every day.
" I have ask'd her," says my landlady, " how
she, as she liv'd, could possibly find so much
employment for a confessor." " Oh," said she,
" it is impossible to avoid nam thoughts.'" I
was permitted once to visit her. She was cheer-
ful and polite, and convers'd pleasantly. The
room was clean, but had no other furniture than
a matras, a table with a crucifix and book, a
stool which she gave me to sit on, and a picture
over the chimney of Saint Veronica displaying

71

Benjamin Franklin

her handkerchief, with the miraculous figure of
Christ's bleeding face on it, which she ex-
plained to me with great seriousness. She
look'd pale, but was never sick ; and I give it
as another instance on how small an income,
life and health may be supported.

At Watts' s printing-house I contracted an
acquaintance with an ingenious young man,
one W3'gate, who, having wealthy relations,
had been better educated than most printers ;
was a tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and
lov'd reading. I taught him and a friend of
his to swim at twice going into the river, and
they soon became good swimmers. They in-
troduc'd me to some gentlemen from the coun-
try', who went to Chelsea by water to see the
College and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our
return, at the request of the company, whose
curiosity Wygate had excited, I stripped and
leaped into the river, and swam from near
Chelsea to Blackfriar's, performing on the way
many feats of activity, both upon and under
the water, that surpris'd and pleas'd those to
whom they were novelties.

I had from a child been ever delighted with
this exercise, had studied and practis'd all
Thevenot's motions and positions, added some
of my own, aiming at the graceful and easy as
well as the useful. All these I took this oc-
casion of exhibiting to the company, and
was much flatter' d by their admiration ; and
Wygate, who was desirous of becoming a mas-

72

Early Life

ter, grew more and more attach'd to me on that
account, as well as from the similarity of our
studies. He at length proposed to me travel-
ling all over Europe together, supporting our-
selves everywhere by working at our business.
I was once inclined to it ; but, mentioning it
to my good friend, Mr. Denham, with whom I
often spent an hour when I had leisure, he dis-
suaded me from it, advising me to think only
of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was
now about to do.

I must record one trait of this good man's
character. He had formerly been in business
at Bristol, but failed in debt to a number of
people, compounded and went to America.
There, by a close application to business as a
merchant, he acquir'd a plentiful fortune in a
few years. Returning to England in the ship
with me, he invited his old creditors to an en-
tertainment, at which he thank' d them for the
easy composition they had favored him with,
and, when they expected nothing but the treat,
every man at the first remove found under his
plate an order on a banker for the full amount
of the unpaid remainder, with interest.

He now told me he was about to return to
Philadelphia, and should carry over a great
quantity of goods, in order to open a store
there. He propos'd to take me over as his
clerk, to keep his books, in which he would
instruct me, copy his letters, and attend the
store. He added, that, as soon as I should be

73

Benjamin Franklin

acquainted with mercantile business, he would
promote me by sending me with a cargo of
flour and bread, etc., to the West Indies, and
procure me commissions from others which
would be profitable ; and, if I manag'd well,
would establish me handsomely. The thing
pleas' d me ; for I was grown tired of London,
remembered with pleasure the happy months I
had spent in Pennsylvania, and wish'd again
to see it ; therefore I immediately agreed on
the terms of fifty pounds a year, Penns3ivania
money ; less, indeed, than my present gettings
as a compositor, but affording a better prospect.
I now took leave of printing, as I thought,
for ever, and was daily employ'd in my new
business, going about with Mr. Denham among
the tradesmen to purchase various articles, and
seeing them pack'd up, doing errands, calling
upon workmen to dispatch, etc.; and, when all
was on board, I had a few davs' leisure. On
one of these days, I was, to my surprise, sent
for by a great man I knew only by name, a Sir
William Wyndham, and I waited upon him.
He had heard by some means or other of my
swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriar's, and of
my teaching Wygate and another young man
to swim in a few hours. He had two sons,
about to set out on their travels ; he wish'd to
have them first taught swimming, and proposed
to gratify me handsomely if I would teach
them. They were not yet come to town, and
my stay was uncertain, so I could not under-
take it ; but from this incident I thought it

74

Early Life

likely that, if I were to remain in England and
open a swimming-school, I might get a good
deal of money ; and it struck me so strongly,
that, had the overture been sooner made me,
probably I should not so soon have returned to
America, After many years, you and I had
something of more importance to do with one
of these sons of Sir William Wyndham, become
Earl of Egremont, which I shall mention in its
place.

Thus I spent about eighteen months in Lon-
don ; most part of the time I work'd hard at
my business, and spent but little upon m3'self
except in seeing plays and in books. My friend
Ralph had kept me poor ; he owed me about
twenty-seven pounds, which I was now never
likely to receive ; a great sum out of my small
earnings ! I lov'd him, notwithstanding, for
he had many amiable qualities. I had by no
means improv'd my fortune ; but I had picked
up some very ingenious acquaintance, whose
conversation was of great advantage to me ;
and I had read considerably.

We sail'dfrom Gravesend on the 23d of July,
1726. For the incidents of the voyage, I refer
you to my Journal, where you will find them all
minutely related. Perhaps the most important
part of that journal is t\ie pla?i to be found in
it, which I formed at sea, for regulating my
future conduct in life. It is the more remark-
able, as being formed when I was so young,
and yet being pretty faithfully adhered to quite

thro' old age.

75

Settling Down.

A friendly correspondence as neighbors and
old acquaintances had continued between me
and Mr, Read's family, who all had a regard
for me from the time of my first lodging in
their house. I was often invited there and con-
sulted in their affairs, wherein I sometimes was
of service. I piti'd poor Miss Read's* unfortu-
nate situation, who was generally dejected,
seldom cheerful, and avoided company. I con-
sidered my giddiness and inconstancy when in
London as in a great degree the cause of her
unhappiness, tho' the mother was good enough
to think the fault more her own than mine, as
she had prevented our marrying before I went
thither, and persuaded the other match in my
absence. Our mutual affection was revived,
but there were now great objections to our
union. The match was indeed looked upon as
invaHd, a preceding wife being said to be living
in England ; but this could not easily be prov'd,
because of the distance ; and, tho' there was a
report of his death, it was not certain. Then,
tho' it should be true, he had left many debts,

* She had in the interval made an unhappy mar-
riage, and was separated from her husband.

76

Settling Down

"which his successor might be call'd upon to
pay. We ventured, however, over all these
difficulties, and I took her to wife, September
ist, 1730. None of the inconveniences hap-
pened that we had apprehended ; she proved a
good and faithful helpmate, assisted me much
by attending shop ; we throve together, and
have ever mutually endeavor'd to make each
other happy. Thus I corrected that great er-
rattwi as well as I could.*

About this time, our club meeting, not at a
tavern, but in a little room of Mr. Grace's, set
apart for that purpose, a proposition was made
by me, that, since our books were often referr'd
to in our disquisitions upon the queries, it might
be convenient to us to have them altogether
where we met, that upon occasion they might
be consulted ; and by thus clubbing our books
to a common library, we should, while we lik'd
to keep them together, have each of us the ad-
vantage of using the books of all the other
members, which would be nearly as beneficial
as if each owned, the whole. It was lik'd and
agreed to, and we fill'd one end of the room
with such books as we could best spare. The
number was not so great as we expected ; and
tho' they had been of great use, yet some in-
conveniences occurring for want of due care of
them, the collection, after about a year, was
separated, and each took his books home again.

* Mrs. Franklin survived her marriage over forty
years. She died December iq, 1774. — Ed.

77

Benjamin Franklin

And now I set on foot my first project of a
public nature, that for a subscription library.
I drew up the proposals, got them put into form
by our great scrivener, Brockden, and, by the
help of my friends in the Junto,* procured fifty
subscribers of forty shillings each to begin with,
and ten shillings a year for fifty 5'ears, the term
our company was to continue. We afterwards
obtain 'd a charter, the company being increased
to one hundred ; this was the m^other of all the
North American subscription libraries, now so
numerous. It is become a great thing itself,
and continually increasing. These libraries
have improved the general conversation of the
Americans, made the common tradesmen and
farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen from
other countries, and perhaps have contributed
in some degree to the stand so generally made
throughout the colonies in defence of their
privileges.

At the time I establish 'd myself in Pennsyl-
vania, there was not a good bookseller's shop in
any of the colonies to the southward of Boston.
In New York and Philadelphia the printers
were indeed stationers ; they sold only paper,
etc., almanacs, ballads, and a few common
school-books. Those who lov'd reading were
oblig'd to send for their books from England ;
the members of the Junto had each a few. We

* A young men's club for mutual improvement,
formed by Franklin.

7S

Settling Down

had left the alehouse, where we first met, and
hired a room to hold our club in. I propos'd
that we should all of us bring our books to that
room, where they would not only be ready to
consult in our conferences, but become a com-
mon benefit, each of us being at liberty to bor-
row such as he wish'd to read at home. This
was accordingly done, and for some time con-
tented us.

Finding the advantage of this little collec-
tion, I propos'd to render the benefit from books
more common, by commencing a public sub-
scription library. I drew a sketch of the plan
and rules that would be necessary, and got a
skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brockden, to
put the whole in form of articles of agreement
to be subscribed, by which each subscriber en-
gag' d to pay a certain sum down for the first
purchase of books, and an annual contribution
for increasing them. So few were the readers
at that time in Philadelphia, and the majority
of us so poor, that I was not able, with great
industry, to find more than fifty persons, mostly
young tradesmen, willing to pay down for this
purpose forty shillings each, and ten shillings
per annum. On this little fund we began.
The books were imported ; the library was
opened one day in the week for lending to the
subscribers, on their promissory notes to pay
double the value if not duly returned. The in-
stitution soon manifested its utility, was imi-
tated by other towns, and in other provinces.

79

Benjamin Franklin

The libraries were augmented by donations ;
reading became fashionable ; and our people,
having no public amusements to divert their
attention from study, became better acquainted
with books, and in a few years were observ'd
by strangers to be better instructed and more
intelligent than people of the same rank gen-
erally are in other countries.

When we were about to sign the above-men-
tioned articles, which were to be binding on us,
our heirs, etc., for fifty years, Mr. Brockden,
the scrivener, said to us: "You are young
men, but it is scarcely probable that any of you
will live to see the expiration of the term fix'd
in the instrument." A number of us, however,
are yet living ; but the instrument was after a
few years rendered null by a charter that incor-
porated and gave perpetuity to the company.

The objections and reluctances I met with in
soliciting the subscriptions, made me soon feel
the impropriet}' of presenting one's self as the
proposer of any useful project, that might be
suppos'd to raise one's reputation in the small-
est degree above that of one's neighbors, when
one has need of their assistance to accomplish
that project. I therefore put myself as much
as I could out of sight, and stated it as a scheme
of a ntiviber of friends, who had requested me
to go about and propose it to such as they
thought lovers of reading. In this way my
affair went on more smoothly, and I ever after
practis'd it on such occasions ; and, from my

So

Settling Down

frequent successes, can heartily recommend it.
The present little sacrifice of your vanity will
afterwards be amply repaid. If it remains a
while uncertain to whom the merit belongs,
some one more vain than yourself will be en-
couraged to claim it, and then even envy will
be disposed to do you justice by plucking those
assumed feathers, and restoring them to their
right owner.

This library afforded me the means of im-
provement by constant study, for which I set
apart an hour or two each day, and thus re-
pair'd in some degree the loss of the learned
education my father once intended for me,
Reading was the only amusement I allow'd
myself. I spent no time in taverns, games, or
frolics of any kind ; and my industry in my
business continu'd as indefatigable as it was
necessary. I was indebted for my printing-
house ; I had a young family coming on to be
educated, and I had to contend with for busi-
ness two printers, who were established in the
place before me. My circumstances, however,
grew daily easier. My original habits of fru-
gality continuing, and my father having, among
his instructions to me when a boy, frequently
repeated a proverb of Solomon, " Seest thou a
man diligent in his calling, he shall stand be-
fore kings, he shall not stand before mean
men," I from thence considered industry as a
means of obtaining wealth and distinction,
which encourag'd me, tho' I did not think that

8i

Benjamin Franklin

I should ever literally sta7id before kings,
which, however, has since happened ; for I
have stood h^ioxQ five, and even had the honor
of sitting down with one, the King of Denmark,
to dinner.

We have an English proverb that says, " He
that would thrive, must ask his wifey It
was lucky for me that I had one as much dis-
pos'd to industry and frugality as myself. She
assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding
and stitching pamphlets, tending shop, purchas-
ing old linen rags for the paper-makers, etc.,
etc. We kept no idle servants, our table was
plain and simple, our furniture of the cheapest.
For instance, my breakfast was a long time
bread and milk (no tea), and I ate it out of a
twopenny earthen porringer, with a pewter
spoon. But mark how luxury will enter fami-
lies, and make a progress, in spite of principle :
being call'd one morning to breakfast, I found
it in a china bowl, with a spoon of silver !
They had been bought for me without my
knowledge by my wife, and had cost her the
enormous sum of Ihree-and-twenty shillings,
for which she had no other excuse or apology to
make, but that she thought her husband de-
serv'd a silver spoon and china bowl as well as
any of his neighbors. This was the first ap-
pearance of plate and china in our house, which
afterward, in a course of years, as our wealth
increas'd, augmented gradually to several hun-
dred pounds in value.

82

Settling Down

I had been religiously educated as a Presby-
terian ; and tho' some of the dogmas of that
persuasion, such as the eternal decrees of
God^ electio7i, reprobation, etc., appeared to
me unintelligible, others doubtful, and I early
absented myself from the public assemblies of
the sect, Sunday being my studying day, I
never was without some religious principles. I
never doubted, for instance, the existence of
the Deity ; that he made the world, and gov-
ern'd it by his Providence ; that the most ac-
ceptable service of God was the doing good to
man ; that our souls are immortal ; and that all
crime will be punished, and virtue rewarded,
either here or hereafter. These I esteem'd the
essentials of every religion ; and, being to be
found in all the religions we had in our coun-
try, I respected them all, tho' with different de-
grees of respect, as I found them more or less
mix'd with other articles, which, without any
tendency to inspire, prom^ote, or confirm moral-
ity, serv'd principally to divide us, and make
us unfriendly to one another. This respect to
all, with an opinion that the worst had some
good effects, indue' d me to avoid all discourse
that might tend to lessen the good opinion an-
other might have of his own religion ; and as
our province increas'd in people, and new places
of worship were continually wanted, and gen-
erally erected by voluntary contribution, my
mite for such purpose, whatever might be the
•sect, was never refused.

S3

Benjamin Franklin

Tho' I seldom attended any public worship,
I had still an opinion of its propriety, and of its
utility when rightly conducted, and I regularly
paid my annual subscription for the support of
the only Presb\'teriau minister or meeting we
had in Philadelphia. He us'd to visit me some-
times as a friend, and admonish me to attend
his administrations, and I was now and then
prevail'd on to do so, once for five Sundays suc-
cessively. Had he been in my opinion a good
preacher, perhaps I might have continued, not-
withstanding the occasion I had for the Sun-
day's leisure in my course of study ; but his
discourses were chiefly either polemic argu-
ments, or explications of the peculiar doctrines
of our sect, and were all to me very dry, unin-
teresting, and unedifying, since not a single
moral principle was inculcated or enforc'd, their
aim seeming to be rather to make us Presby-
terians than good citizens.

At length he took for his text that verse of
the fourth chapter of Philippians : " Finally^
brethren, whatsoever things are trite, honesty
just, pure, lovely, or of good report, if there
be any virtue, or any praise, thi7ik on these
things.'' And I imagin'd, in a sermon on
such a text, we could not miss of having some
morality. But he confin'd himself to five points
only, as meant by the apostle, viz.: i. Keeping
holy the Sabbath day. 2. Being diligent in
reading the holy Scriptures, 3. Attending duly
the public worship. 4. Partaking of the Sac-

84

Settling Down

rament. 5. Paying a due respect to God's min-
isters. These might be all good things ; but,
as they were not the kind of good things that I
expected from that text, I despaired of ever
meeting with them from any other, was dis-
gusted, and attended his preaching no more.
I had some years before compos' d a little Lit-
urgy, or form of prayer, for my own private
use (viz., in 1728), entitled " Articles of Belief
and Acts of Religion." I return'd to the use
of this, and went no more to the public assem-
blies. My conduct might be blamable, but I
leave it, without attempting further to excuse
it ; my present purpose being to relate facts,
and not to make apologies for them.

85

Rules of Conduct.

It was about this time I conceiv'd the bold
and arduous project of arriving at moral per-
fection. I wish'd to live without committing
any fault at any time ; I would conquer all that
either natural inclination, custom, or company
might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I
knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see
why I might not always do the one and avoid
the other. But I soon found I had undertaken
a task of more difficulty than I had imagined.
While my care was employ' d in guarding
against one fault, I was often surprised by an-
other ; habit took the advantage of inattention ;
inclination was sometimes too strong for rea-
son. I concluded, at length, that the mere
speculative conviction that it was our interest
to be completely virtuous, was not sufficient to
prevent our slipping ; and that the contrary
habits mast be broken, and good ones acquired
and established, before we can have any de-
pendence on a steady, uniform rectitude of con-
duct. For this purpose I therefore contrived
the following method.

In the various enumerations of the moral vir-
tues I had met with in my reading, I found the

86

Rules of Conduct

catalogue more or less numerous, as different
writers included more or fewer ideas imder the
same name. Temperance, for example, was
by some confined to eating and drinking, while
by others it was extended to mean the moder-
ating every other pleasure, appetite, inclina-
tion, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our
avarice and ambition. I propos'd to myself,
for the sake of clearness, to use rather more
names, with fewer ideas annex' d to each, than
a few names with more ideas ; and I included
under thirteen names of virtues all that at that
time occurr'd to me as necessary or desirable,
and annexed to each a short precept, which
fully express'd the extent I gave to its meaning.
These names of virtues, with their precepts,
were :

I. Temperance.
Eat not to dullness ; drink not to elevation.

2. Silence.

Speak not but what may benefit others or
yourself ; avoid trifling conversation.

3. Order.

Let all your things have their places ; let
each part of your business have its time.

4. Resolution.

Resolve to perform what you ought ; perform
without fail what you resolve.

87

Benjamin Franklin

5. Frugality.

Make no expense but to do good to others or
yourself ; i.e., waste nothing.

6. Industry.

Lose no time ; be always employ 'd in some-
thing useful : cut off all unnecessary actions.

7. Sincerity.

Use no hurtful deceit ; think innocently and
justly ; and, if you speak, speak accordingly.

S. Justice.

Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting
the benefits that are"}^our duty.

9. Moderation.

Avoid extremes ; forbear resenting injuries
so much as you think they deserve.

10. Cleanliness.

Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or
habitation.

II. Tranquillity.

Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents
common or unavoidable.

12. Chastity.

Rarely use venery but for health or offspring,
never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of
your own or another's peace or reputation.

SS

Rules of Conduct

13. Humility.

Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

My intention being to acquire the habitude
of all these virtues, I judg'd it would be well
not to distract my attention by attempting the
whole at once, but to fix it on one of them at a
time ; and, when I should be master of that,
then to proceed to another, and so on, till I
should have gone through the thirteen ; and, as
the previous acquisition of some might facilitate
the acquisition of certain others, I arrang'd
them with that view, as they stand above.
Temperance first, as it tends to procure that
coolness and clearness of head, which is so nec-
essary where constant vigilance was to be kept
up, and guard maintained against the unremit-
ting attraction of ancient habits, and the force
of perpetual temptations. This being acquir'd
and establish' d, Silence would be more easy ;
and my desire being to gain knowledge at the
same time that I improv'd in virtue, and con-
sidering that in conversation it was obtain'd
rather by the use of the ears than of the tongue,
and therefore wishing to break a habit I was
getting into of prattling, punning, and joking,
which only made me acceptable to trifling com-
pany, I gave Silence the second place. This
and the next. Order, I expected would allow
me more time for attending to my project and
my studies. Resolution, once become habit-
ual, would keep me firm in my endeavors to ob-
tain all the subsequent virtues ; Frugality and

Sq

Benjamin Franklin

Ijidustry, freeing me from my remaining debt,
and producing affluence and independence,
would make more easy the practice of Smcej'ity
and Justice, etc., etc. Conceiving then, that,
agreeably to the advice of Pythagoras in his
Golden Verses, daily examination would be
necessary, I contrived the following method
for conducting that examination.

I made a little book, in which I allotted a
page for each of the virtues. I rul'd each page
with red ink, so as to have seven columns, one
for each day of the week, marking each column
with a letter for the day. I cross 'd these col-
umns with thirteen red lines, marking the be-
ginning of each line with the first letter of one
of the virtues, on which line, and in its proper
column, I might mark, by a little black spot,
every fault I found upon examination to have
been committed respecting that virtue upon
that day.

I determined to give a week's strict attention
to each of the virtues successively. Thus, in the
first week, my great guard was to avoid every
the least offence agaist Tcnipe^'atice, leaving
the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only
marking every evening the faults of the day.
Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first
line, marked T, clear of spots, I suppos'd the
habit of that virtue so much strengthen 'd, and
its opposite weaken 'd, that I might venture ex-
tending my attention to include the next, and
for the following week keep both lines clear of

90

Rules of Conduct

Form of the Pages.

TEMPERANCE.

EAT NOT TO DULNESS ;
DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION.

S.

M.

T.

W.

T.

F.

S.

T.

*

S.

*

^

*

o.

**

*

*

*

*

*

R.

*

*

F.

*

*

I.

*

S.
J.

M.

C.

T.

C.

H.

Spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could go
thro' a course complete in thirteen weeks, and
four courses in a year. And like him who,
having a garden to weed, does not attempt to
eradicate all the bad herbs at once, which would
exceed his reach and his strength, but works

91

Benjamin Franklin

on one of the beds at a time, and, having ac-
compHsh'd the first, proceeds to a second, so I
should have, I hoped, the encouraging pleasure
of seeing on my pages the progress 1 made in
virtue, by clearing successively my lines of
their spots, till in the end, by a number of
courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean
book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examination.
This my little book had for its motto these
lines from Addison's Cato :

" Here will I hold. If ther 's a power above us
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud
Thro' all her works), He must delight in virtue ;
And that which he delights in must be happy."

Another from Cicero :

" O vitae Philosophia dux ! O virtutum indagatrix
expultrixque vitiorum! Unus dies, bene et ex praeceptis
tuis actus, peccanti immortalitati est anteponendus."

Another from the Proverbs of Solomon,

speaking of w^isdom or virtue :

" Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left
hand riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleas-
antness, and all her paths are peace." iii. i6, 17.

And conceiving God to be the fountain of
wisdom, I thought it right and necessary to
solicit his assistance for obtaining it ; to this
end I formed the following little prayer, which
was prefix' d to my tables of examination, for
daily use :.

'■'■ O powerful Goodftess ! bountiful Father ! merciful
Guide ! Increase in i?ie that wisdom ivhich discovers my
truest interest. Strengthen 7ny resolutiofis to perforin
what that wisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices to

92

Rules of Conduct

thy other children as the only return in my power for
thy continual favours to me.

I fised also sometimes a little prayer which I
took from Thomson's Poems, viz. :

" Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme !
O teach me what is good ; teach me Thyself !
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit ; and fill my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ;
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss !"

The precept of Oi'der requiring that every
part of my business shottld have its allotted
time, one page in my little book contain'd the
following scheme of employment for the
twenty four hours of a natural day.

The Morning. f 5I Rise, wash, and address
Question. What good | 6 | Pozverful Goodness / Con-
shall I do this day? J i' trive day's business, and

I ftake the resolution of the
I 7 1 day ; prosecute the present
I J study, and breakfast.

8")

9 j. Work.

TO ,'

IlJ

NoON i ^2 I Read, or overlook my ac-

I I (counts, and dine.

2
l- Work.

Evening.
Question. What good
have I done to-day ?

Night.

3
4
5
6 1 Put things in their places.

7 I Supper. Music or diversion,

8 I or conversation. Examina-

9 J tion of the day.
lol

11 ]

12 I

I J- Sleep

[\\

93

Benjamin Franklin

I enter'd upon the execution of this plan for
self-examination, and continu'd it with occa-
sional intermissions for some time. I was sur-
pris'd to find myself so much fuller of faults
than I had imagined ; but I had the satisfac-
tion of seeing them diminish. To avoid the
trouble of renewing now and then my little
book, which, by scraping out the marks on the
paper of old faults to make room for new ones
in a new course, became full of holes, I trans-
ferr'd my tables and precepts to the ivory leaves
of a memorandum book, on which the lines
were drawn with red ink, that made a durable
stain, and on those lines I mark'd my faults
with a black-lead pencil, which marks I could
easily wipe out with a wet sponge. After a
while I went thro' one course only in a year,
and aftenvard only one in several years, till at
length I omitted them entirely, being employ'd
in voyages and business abroad, with a multi-
plicity of affairs that interfered ; but I always
carried my little book with me.

My scheme of Ordc)- gave me the most
trouble ; and I found that, tho' it might be
practicable where a man's business was such as
to leave him the disposition of his time, that of
a journeyman printer, for instance, it was not
possible to be exactly observed by a master,
who must mix with the world, and often receive
people of business at their own hours. Orde?-,
too, with regard to places for things, papers,
etc., I found extremely difficult to acquire. I

94

Rules of Conduct

had not been early accustomed to it, and, hav-
ing an exceeding good memory, I was not so
sensible of the inconvenience attending want
of method. This article, therefore, cost me so
much painful attention, and my faults in it
vexed me so much, and I made so little progress
in amendment, and had such frequent relapses,
that I was almost ready to give up the attempt,
and content myself with a faulty character in
that respect, like the man who, in buying an ax
of a smith, my neighbor, desired to have the
whole of its surface as bright as the edge. The
smith consented to grind it bright for him if
he would turn the wheel ; he turn'd, while the
smith press' d the broad face of the ax hard and
heavily on the stone, which made the turning
of it very fatiguing. The man came every now
and then from the wheel to see how the work
went on, and at length would take his ax as it
was, without farther grinding. " No," said the
smith, "turn on, turn on; we shall have it
bright by-and-by ; as yet, it is only speckled."
" Yes," says the man, " but I think I like a
speckled ax best.'" And I believe this may
have been the case with many, who, having,
for want of some such means as I employ'd,
found the difficulty of obtaining good and
breaking bad habits in other points of vice and
virtue, have given up the struggle, and con-
cluded that " a speckled ax was besf ; For
something, that pretended to be reason, was
every now and then suggesting to me that such

95

Benjamin Franklin

extreme nicety as I exacted of myself might be
a kind of foppery in morals, which, if it were
known, would make me ridiculous ; that a per-
fect character might be attended with the in-
convenience of being envied and hated ; and
that a benevolent man should allow a few faults
in himself, to keep his friends in countenance.

In truth, I found myself incorrigible with re-
spect to order ; and now I am grown old, and
my memory bad, I feel very sensibly the want
of it. But, on the whole, tho' I never arrived
at the perfection I had been so ambitious of ob-
taining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by
the endeavour, a better and a happier man than
I otherwise should have been if I had not at-
tempted it ; as those who aim at perfect writmg
by imitating the engraved copies, tho' they
never reach the wish'd-for excellence of those
copies, their hand is mended by the endeavour,
and is tolerable while it continues fair and legible-
It may be well my posterity should be in-
formed that to this little artifice, with the bless-
ing of God, their ancestor ow'd the constant
felicit}'- of his life, down to his 79th year, in
which this is written. What reverses may at-
tend the remainder is in the hand of Provi-
dence ; but, if they arrive, the reflection on
past happiness enjoy'd ought to help his bear-
ing them \\nth more resignation. To Temper-
ance he ascribes his long-continued health, and
what is still left to him of a good constitution ;
to Industry and Frugality, the early easiness of

96

Rules of Conduct

his circumstances and acquisition of his fortune,
with all that knowledge that enabled him to be
a useful citizen, and obtained for him some de-
gree of reputation among the learned ; to Sin-
cerity and Justice, the confidence of his coun-
try, and the honorable emplo3'S it conferred
upon him ; and to the joint influence of the
whole mass of the virtues, even in the imper-
fect state he was able to acquire them, all that
evenness of temper, and that cheerfulness in
conversation, which makes his company still
sought for, and agreeable even to his younger
acquaintance. I hope, therefore, that some of
my descendants may follow tlie example and
reap the benefit.

It will be remark' d that, tho' my scheme was
not wholly without religion, there was in it no
mark of any of the distinguishing tenets of any
particular sect. I had purposely avoided them ;
for, being fully persuaded of the utility and ex-
cellency of my method, and that it might be
serviceable to people in all religions, and in-
tending some time or other to publish it, I
would not have any thing in it that should prej-
udice any one, of any sect, against it. I pur-
posed writing a little comment on each virtue,
in which I would have shown the advantages
of possessing it, and the mischiefs attending its
opposite vice ; and I should have called my
book "The Art of Virtue,"* because it would

* Nothing so likely to make a man's fortune as virtue.
— [Marg. note.]

97

Benjamin Franklin

have shown the means and manner of obtain-
ing virtue, which would have distinguished it
from the mere exhortation to be good, that does
not instruct and indicate the means, but is hke
the apostle's man of verbal charity, who only
without showing to the naked and hungry how
or where they might get clothes or victuals, ex-
horted them to be fed and clothed. — James ii.
15, 16.

But it so happened that my intention of writ-
ing and publishing this comment was never
fulfilled. I did, indeed, from time to time, put
down short hints of the sentiments, reasonings,
etc., to be made use of in it, some of which I
have still by me ; but the necessary close atten-
tion to private business in the earlier part of
my life, and public business since, have occa-
sioned my postponing it ; for, it being con-
nected in my mind with a great and extensive
project, that required the whole man to exe-
cute, and which an unforeseen succession of
employs prevented my attending to, it has hith-
erto remain'd trnfinisli'd.

In this piece it was my design to explain and
enforce this doctrine, that vicious actions are
not hurtful because they are forbidden, but for-
bidden because they are hurtful, the nature of
man alone considered ; that it was, therefore,
every one's interest to be virtuous who wish'd
to be happy even in this world ; and I should,
from this circumstance (there being always in
the world a number of rich merchants, nobility,

98

Rules of Conduct

states, and princes, who have need of honest
instruments for the management of their affairs,
and such being so rare), have endeavored to
convince young persons that no quaUties were
so likely to make a poor man's fortune as those
of probity and integrity.

My list of virtues contain 'd at first but twelve ;
but a Quaker friend having kindly informed
me that I was generally thought proud ; that
my pride show'd itself frequently in conversa-
tion ; that I was not content with being in the
right when discussing any point, but was over-
bearing, and rather insolent, of which he con-
vinc'd me by mentioning several instances ; I
determined endeavouring to cure myself, if I
could, of this vice or folly among the rest, and
I added Humility to my list, giving an exten-
sive meaning to the word.

I cannot boast of much success in acquiring
the reality of this virtue, but I had a good deal
with regard to the appearance of it. I made
it a rule to forbear all direct contradiction to
the sentiments of others, and all positive asser-
tion of my own. I even forbid myself, agree-
ably to the old laws of our Junto, the use of
every word or expression in the language that
imported afix'd opinion, such as certainly, U7i-
doubtedly. etc., and I adopted, instead of them,
I conceive, I apprehend, or / imagine a thing
to be so or so ; or it so appears to me at pres-
ent. When another asserted something that I
thought an error, I deny'd myself the pleasure

99

54624B

Benjamin Franklin

of contradicting him abrupt!}', and of showing
immediately some absurdity in his proposition ;
and in answering I began by observing that in
certain cases or circumstances his opinion would
be right, but in the present case there appeared
or seevi" d to me some difference, etc. I soon
found the advantage of this change in my man-
ner ; the conversations I engag'd in went on
more pleasantly. The modest way in which I
propos'd my opinions procur'd them a readier
reception and less contradiction ; I had less
mortification when I was found to be in the
wrong, and I more easily prevail' d with others
to give up their mistakes and join with me
when I happened to be in the right.

And this mode, which I at first put on with
some violence to natural inclination, became at
length so easy, and so habitual to me, that per-
haps for these fifty years past no one has ever
heard a dogmatical expression escape me. And
to this habit (after my character of integrity) I
think it principally owing that I had early so
much weight with my fellow-citizens when I
proposed new institutions, or alterations in the
old, and so much influence in public councils
when I became a member ; for I was but a bad
speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesi-
tation in my choice of words, hardly correct in
language, and yet I generally carried my points.

In realit}', there is, perhaps, no one of our
natural passions so hard to subdue as pride.
Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle

loo

Rules of Conduct

it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still
alive, and will every now and then peep out
and show himself ; you will see it, perhaps,
often in this history ; for, even if I could con-
ceive that I had completely overcome it, I
should probably be proud of my humility,

[Thus far WTitten at Passy, 1784,]

lOI

Public Affairs.

My first promotion was my being chosen, in
1736, clerk of the General Assembly. The
choice was made that year without opposition ;
but the year following, when I was again pro-
pos'd (the choice, like that of the members,
being annual), a new member made a long
speech against me, in order to favour some
other candidate. I was, however, chosen,
which was the more agreeable to me, as, be-
sides the pay for the immediate service as clerk,
the place gave me a better opportunity of keep-
ing up an interest among the members, which
secur'd to me the business of printing the votes,
laws, paper money, and other occasional jobs
for the public, that, on the whole, were very
profitable.

I therefore did not like the opposition of this
new member, who was a gentleman of fortune
and education, with talents that were likely to
give him, in time, great influence in the House,
which, indeed, afterwards happened. I did
not, however, aim at gaining his favour by pay-
ing any servile respect to him, but, after some
time, took this other method. Having heard
that he had in his librar}- a certain very scarce

102

Public Affairs

and curious book, I wrote a note to him, ex-
pressing my desire of perusing that book, and
requesting he would do me the favour of lend-
ing it to me for a few days. He sent it imme-
diately, and I return 'd it in about a week with
another note, expressing strongly my sense of
the favour. When we next met in the House,
he spoke to me (which he had never done be-
fore), and with great civility ; and he ever after
manifested a readiness to serve me on all occa-
sions, so that we became great friends, and our
friendship continued to his death. This is an-
other instance of the truth of an old maxim I
had learned, which says: ''lie that has once
done you a kindness will be more ready to do
you another, than he whom you yourself have
obliged. ' ' And it shows how much more profit-
able it is prudently to remove, than to resent,
return, and continue inimical proceedings.

In 1737, Colonel Spotswood, late governor of
Virginia, and then postmaster-general, being
dissatisfied with the conduct of his deputy at
Philadelphia, respecting some negligence in
rendering, and inexactitude of his accounts,
took from him the commission and offered it to
me. I accepted it readily, and found it of great
advantage ; for, tho' the salary was small, it
facilitated the correspondence that improv'd
my newspaper, increas'd the number demand-
ed, as well as the advertisements to be inserted,
so that it came to afford me a considerable in-
come. My old competitor's newspaper declin'd

103

Benjamin Franklin

proportionably, and I was satisfy'd without re-
taliating his refusal, while postmaster, to per-
mit my papers being carried by the riders.
Thus he suffer' d greatly from his neglect in due
accounting ; and I mention it as a lesson to
those 3^oung men who may be employ' d in
managing affairs for others, that they should
always render accounts, and make remittances,
with great clearness and punctuality. The
character of observing such a conduct is the
most powerful of all recommendations to new
employments and increase of business.

I began now to turn my thoughts a little to
public affairs, beginning, however, with small
matters. The city watch was one of the first
things that I conceiv'd to want regulation. It
was managed by the constables of the respec-
tive wards in turn ; the constable warned a
number of housekeepers to attend him for the
night. Those who chose never to attend, paid
him six shillings a 3-ear to be excus'd, which
was suppos'd to be for hiring substitutes, but
was, in reality, much more than was necessary
for that purpose, arid made the constableship a
place of profit ; and the constable, for a little
drink, often got such ragamuffins about him as
a watch, that respectable housekeepers did not
choose to mix with. Walking the rounds, too,
was often neglected, and most of the nights
spent in tippling. I thereupon wrote a paper
to be read in Junto, representing these irregu-
larities, but insisting more particularly on the

104

Public Affairs

inequality of this six-shilling tax of the consta-
bles, respecting the circumstances of those who
paid it, since a poor widow housekeeper, all
whose property to be guarded by the watch did
not jjerhaps exceed the value of fifty pounds,
paid as much as the wealthiest merchant, who
had thousands of pounds' worth of goods in his
stores.

On the whole, I proposed as a more effectual
watch, the hiring of proj)er men to serve con-
stantly in that business ; and as a more equita-
ble way of supporting the charge, the levying
a tax that should be proportion 'd to the prop-
erty. This idea, being approv'd by the Junto,
was communicated to the other clubs, but as
arising in each of them ; and though the plan
was not immediately carried into execution,
yet, by preparing the minds of people for the
change, it paved the way for the law obtained
a few years after, when the members of our
clubs were grown into more influence.

About this time I wrote a paper (first to be
read in Junto, but it was afterward publish'd)
on the difi:erent accidents and carelessnesses
by which houses were set on fire, with cautions
against them, and means proposed of avoiding
them. This was much spoken of as a useful
piece, and gave rise to a project, which soon
followed it, of forming a company for the more
ready extinguishing of fires, and mutual assist-
ance in removing and securing of goods when
in danger. Associates in this scheme were

105

Benjamin Franklin

presently found, amounting to thirty. Our
articles of agreement oblig'd every member to
keep always in good order, and fit for use, a
certain number of leather buckets, with strong
bags and baskets (for packing and transporting
of goods), which were to be brought to every
fire ; and we agreed to meet once a month and
spend a social evening together, in discoursing
and communicating such ideas as occurred to
us upon the subject of fires, as might be useful
in our conduct on such occasions.

The utility of this institution soon appeared,
and many more desiring to be admitted than
we thought convenient for one compan}', they
were advised to form another, which was ac-
cordingly done ; and this went on, one new
company being formed after another, till they
became so numerous as to include most of the
inhabitants who were men of property ; and
now, at the time of my writing this, tho* up-
ward of fifty years since its establishment, that
which I first formed, called the Union Fire
Company, still subsists and flourishes, tho' the
first members are all deceas'd but myself and
one, who is older by a year than I am. The
small fines that have been paid by members for
absence at the monthly meetings have been ap-
ply'd to the purchase of fire-engines, ladders,
fire-hooks, and other useful implements for each
company, so that I question whether there is a
city in the world better provided with the
means of putting a stop to beginning conflagra-

io6

Public Affairs

tions ; and, in fact, since these institutions, the
city has never lost by fire more than one or two
houses at a time, and the flames have often
been extinguished before the house in which
they began has been half consumed.

1^7

George Whitefield,

In 1739 arrived among us from Ireland the
Reverend Mr. Whitefield, who had made him-
self remarkable there as an itinerant preacher.
He was at first permitted to preach in some of
our churches ; but the clergy, taking a dislike
to him, soon refus'd him their pulpits, and he
was oblig'd to preach in the fields. The multi-
tudes of all sects and denominations that at-
tended his sermons were enormous, and it was
matter of speculation to me, who was one of
the number, to observe the extraordinary influ-
ence of his oratory on his hearers, and how
much they admir'd and respected him, notwith-
standing his common abuse of them, by assur-
ing them they were naturally half beasts and
half devils. It was wonderful to see the
change soon made in the manners of our in-
habitants. From being thoughtless or indiffer-
ent about religion, it seem'd as if all the world
were growing religious, so that one could not
walk thro' the town in an evening without
hearing psalms sung in different families of
every street.

And it being found inconvenient to assemble
in the open air, subject to its inclemencies, the

108

George Whitefield

building of a house to meet in was no sooner
propos'd, and persons appointed to receive con-
tributions, but sufficient sums were soon re-
ceiv'd to procure the ground and erect the
building, which was one hundred feet long and
seventy broad, about the size of Westminster
Hall ; and the work was carried on with such
spirit as to be finished in a much shorter time
than could have been expected. Both house
and ground were vested in trustees, expressly
for the use of any preacher of any religious per-
suasion who might desire to say something to
the people of Philadelphia ; the design in build-
ing not being to accommodate any particular
sect, but the inhabitants in general ; so that
even if the Mufti of Constantinople were to
send a missionary to preach Mohammedanism
to us, he would find a pulpit at his service.

Mr. Whitefield, in leaving us, went preach-
ing all the way thro' the colonies to Georgia.
The settlement of that province had lately been
begun, but, instead of being made with hardy,
industrious husbandmen, accustomed to labor,
the only people fit for such an enterprise, it
was with families of broken shop-keepers and
other insolvent debtors, many of indolent and
idle habits, taken out of the jails, who, being
set down in the woods, unqualified for clearing
land, and unable to endure the hardships of a
new settlement, perished in numbers, leaving
many helpless children unprovided for. The
sight of their miserable situation inspir'd the

109

Benjamin Franklin

benevolent heart of Mr. Whitefield with the
idea of building an Orphan House there, in
which they might be supported and educated.
Returning northward, he preach'd up this char-
it}', and made large collections, for his elo-
quence had a wonderful power over the hearts
and purses of his hearers, of which I myself
was an instance.

I did net disapprove of the design, but, as
Georgia was then destitute of materials and
workmen, and it was proposed to send them
from Philadelphia at a great expense, I thought
it would have been better to have built the
house here, and brought the children to it-
This I advis'd ; but he was resolute in his first
project, rejected my counsel, and I therefore
refus'd to contribute. I happened soon after
to attend one of his sermons, in the course of
which I perceived he intended to finish with a
collection, and I silently resolved he should get
nothing from me. I had in my pocket a hand-
ful of copper money, three or four silver dollars,
and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded I
began to soften, and concluded to give the cop-
pers. Another stroke of his oratory made me
asham'd of that, and determin'd me to give the
silver ; and he finish'd so admirably, that I
empty'd my pocket wholly into the collector's
dish, gold and all. At this sermon there was
also one of our club, who, being of my senti-
ments respecting the building in Georgia, and
suspecting a collection might be intended, had,

no

George Whitefield

"by precaution, emptied his pockets before he
came from home. Towards the conclusion of
the discourse, however, he felt a strong desire
to give, and apply'd to a neighbour, who stood
near him, to borrow some money for the
purpose. The application was unfortunately
[made] to perhaps the only man in the com-
pany who had the firmness not to be affected
by the preacher. His answer was: "At any
other time. Friend Hopkijison, I would lejid
io thee freely ; but not now, for thee see?ns to
be out of thy right senses.''

Some of Mr, Whitefield's enemies affected to
suppose that he would apply these collections to
his own private emolument ; but I, who was
intimately acquainted with him (being employed
in printing his Sermons and Journals, etc.),
never had the least suspicion of his integrity,
but am to this day decidedly of opinion that he
was in all his conduct a perfectly honest man ;
and methinks my testimony in his favour ought
to have the more w^eight, as we had no relig-
ious connection. He us'd, indeed, sometimes
to pray for my conversion, but he never had
the satisfaction of believing that his prayers
were heard. Ours was a mere civil friendship,
sincere on both sides, and lasted to his death.

The following instance will show something
of the terms on which we stood. Upon one of
his arrivals from England at Boston, he wrote
to me that he should come soon to Philadelphia,
but knew not where he could lodge when there,

III

Benjamin Franklin

as he understood his old friend and host, Mr.
Benezet, was removed to Germantown. My
answer was : ' ' You know my house ; if you
can make shift with its scanty accommodations,
you will be most heartily welcome." He re-
ply'd, that if I made that kind offer for Christ's
sake, I should not miss of a reward. And I re-
turned : " Don't let me be mistakeii ; it was
not for Christ's sake, bict for your own sake/'
One of our common acquaintance jocosely re-
mark'd, that, knowing it to be the custom of
the saints, when they received any favour, to
shift the burden of the obligation from off their
own shoulders, and place it in heaven, I had
contriv'd to fix it on earth.

The last time I saw Mr. Whitefield was in
London, when he consulted me about his Or-
phan House concern, and his purpose of appro-
priating it to the establishment of a college.

He had a loud and clear voice, and articu-
lated his words and sentences so perfectly, that
he might be heard and understood at a great
distance, especially as his auditors, however
numerous, observ'd the most exact silence.
He preach 'd one evening from the top of the
Court-house steps, which are in the middle of
Market-street, and on the west side of Second-
street, which crosses it at right angles. Both
streets were fill'd with his hearers to a consid-
erable distance. Being among the hindmost
in Market-street, I had the curiosity to learn
how far he could be heard, by retiring back-

112

George Whitefield

wards down the street towards the river ; and
I found his voice distinct till 1 came near Front-
street, when some noise in that street obscur'd
it. Imagining then a semicircle, of which my
distance should be the radius, and that it were
fill'd with auditors, to each of whom I allow 'd
two square feet, I computed that he might well
be heard by more than thirty thousand. This
reconcil'd me to the newspaper accounts of his
having preach 'd to twenty-five thousand people
in the fields, and to the antient histories of gen-
erals haranguing whole armies, of which I had
sometimes doubted.

By hearing him often, I could distinguish
easily between sermons newly compos'd, and
those which he had often preach 'd in the course
of his travels. His delivery of the latter was
so improv'd by frequent repetitions that every
accent, every emphasis, every modulation of
voice, was so perfectly well turn'd and well
plac'd, that, without being interested in the
subject, one could not help being pleas'd with
the discourse ; a pleasure of much the same
kind with that receiv'd from an excellent piece
of musick. This is an advantage itinerant
preachers have over those who are stationary,
as the latter cannot well improve their delivery
of a sermon by so many rehearsals.

His writing and printing from time to time
gave great advantage to his enemies ; un-
guarded expressions, and even erroneous opin-
ions, delivered in preaching, might have been

113

Benjamin Franklin

afterwards explain 'd or qualifi'd by supposing
others that might have accompani'd them, or
they might have been deny'd ; but lit era
scripta inaiiet. Critics attack'd his writings
violently, and with so much appearance of rea-
son as to diminish the number of his votaries
and prevent their encrease ; so that I am of
opinion if he had never written anything, he
would have left behind him a much more nu-
merous and important sect, and his reputation
might in that case have been still growing,
even after his death, as there being nothing of
his writing on which to found a censure and
give him a lower character, his proselytes would
be left at liberty to feign for him as great a
variety of excellences as their enthusiastic ad-
miration might wish him to have possessed.

114

The Franklin Stove.

In order of time, I should have mentioned
before, that having, in 1742, invented an open
stove for the better warming of rooms, and at
the same time saving fuel, as the fresh air ad-
mitted was warmed in entering, I made a pres-
ent of the model to Mr. Robert Grace, one of
my early friends, who, having an iron-furnace,
found the casting of the plates for these stoves
a profitable thing, as they were growing in de-
mand. To promote that demand, I wrote and
pubHshed a pamphlet, entitled " A7i Account of
the new-invented Pe7insylva?iia Fireplaces ;
whereiti their Construction ajtd Manner of
Operatioji is particularly explained ; their
Advantages above every other Method of
warming Rooms demonstrated ; and all Ob-
Jections that have bee7i raised against the
Use of them answered and obviated,'' etc.
This pamphlet had a good effect. Gov'r.
Thomas was so pleas 'd with the construction of
thib stove, as described in it, that he offered to
give me a patent for the sole vending of them
for a term of years ; but I decHn'd it from a
principle which has ever weighed with me on
such occasions, vi^.. That, as we enjoy great

Benjamin Franklin

advajttagcs from the znventtons of others^
we should be glad of an oppo7-tii7iity to serve
others by any invention of ours ; and this we
should do freely and generously.

An ironmonger in London, however, assum-
ing a good deal of my pamphlet, and working
it up into his own, and making some small
changes in the machine, which rather hurt its
operation, got a patent for it there, and made,
as I was told, a little fortune by it. And this
is not the only instance of patents taken out for
my inventions by others, tho' not always with
the same success, which I never contested, as
having no desire of profiting by patents myself,
and hating disputes. The use of these fire-
places in very many houses, both of this and
the neighboring colonies, has been, and is, a
great saving of wood to the inhabitants.

Ii6

Civic Pride.

Our city, tho' laid out with a beautifull regu-
larity, the streets large, strait, and crossing
each other at right angles, had the disgrace of
suffering those streets to remain long unpav'd,
and in wet weather the wheels of heavy car-
riages plough'd them into a quagmire, so that
it was difficult to cross them ; and in dry
weather the dust was offensive. I had liv'd.
near what was call'd the Jersey Market, and
saw with pain the inhabitants wading in mud
while purchasing their provisions. A strip of
ground down the middle of that market was at
length pav'd with brick, so that, being once in
the market, they had firm footing, but were
often over shoes in dirt to get there. By talk-
ing and writing on the subject, I was at length
instrumental in getting the street pav'd with
stone between the market and the brick'd foot-
pavement, that was on each side next the
houses. This, for some time, gave an easy ac-
cess to the market dry-shod ; but, the rest of
the street not being pav'd, whenever a carriage
came out of the mud upon this pavement, it
shook off and left its dirt upon it, and it was
soon cover'd with mire, which was not remov'd^
the city as yet having no scavengers.

117

Benjamin Franklin

After some inquiry, I found a poor, industri-
ous man, who was willing to undertake keep-
ing the pavement clean, by sweeping it twice
a week, earring off the dirt from before all the
neighbours' doors, for the sum of sixpence per
month, to be paid by each house, I then wrote
and printed a paper setting forth the advan-
tages to the neighbourhood that might be ob-
tain'd by this small expense ; the greater ease
in keeping our houses clean, so much dirt not
being brought in by people's feet ; the benefit
to the shops by more custom, etc., etc., as buy-
ers could more easily get at them ; and by not
having, in windy weather, the dust blown in
upon their goods, etc. , etc. I sent one of these
papers to each house, and in a day or two went
round to see who would subscribe an agree-
ment to pay these sixpences ; it was unani-
mously sign'd, and for a time well executed.
All the inhabitants of the city were delighted
with the cleanliness of the pavement that sur-
rounded the market, it being a convenience to
all, and this rais'd a general desire to have all
the streets paved, and made the people more
willing to submit to a tax for that purpose.

After some time I drew a bill for paving the
city, and brought it into the Assembly. It was
just before I went to England, in 1757, and did
not pass till I was gone,* and then with an al-
teration in the mode of assessment, which I
thought not for the better, but with an addi-

* See votes.— [Marg. note.]
IlS

Civic Pride

tional provision for lighting as well as paving
the streets, which was a great improvement.
It was by a private person, the late Mr. John
Clifton, his giving a sample of the utility of
lamps, by placing one at his door, that the peo-
ple were first impressed with the idea of enlight-
ing all the city. The honour of this public
benefit has also been ascrib'd to me, but it be-
longs truly to that gentleman. I did but fol-
low his example, and have only some merit to
claim respecting the form of our lamps, as dif-
fering from the globe lamps we were at first
supply' d with from London. Those we found
inconvenient in these respects : they admitted
no air beiow ; the smoke, therefore, did not
readil}?- go out above, but circulated in the
globe, lodg'd on its inside, and soon obstructed
the light they w^ere intended to afford ; giving,
besides, the daily trouble of wiping them clean ;
and an accidental stroke on one of them would
demolish it, and render it totally useless. I
therefore suggested the composing them of
four flat panes, with a long funnel above to
draw up the smoke, and crevices admitting air
below, to facilitate the ascent of the smoke ;
by this means they were kept clean, and did
not grow dark in a few hours, as the London
lamps do, but continu'd bright till morning,
and an accidental stroke would generally break
but a single pane, easily repair'd.

I have sometimes wonder'd that the London-
ers did not, from the effect holes in the bottom

119

Benjamin Franklin

of the globe lamps us'd at Vauxhall hare in
keeping them clean, learn to have such holes
in their street lamps. But, these holes being
made for another purpose, viz., to communicate
flame more suddenly- to the wick by a little flax
hanging down thro' them, the other use, of let-
ting in air, seems not to have been thought of ;
.and therefore, after the lamps have been lit a
few hours, the streets of London are very
poorly illuminated.

The mention of these improvements puts me
in mind of one I propos'd, when in London, to
Dr. Fothergill, who was among the best men I
have known, and a great promoter of useful
projects. I had observ'd that the streets, when
dry, were never swept, and the light dust car-
ried away ; but it was suffer 'd to accumulate
till wet weather reduc'd it to mud, and then,
after lying some da3'S so deep on the pavement
that there was no crossing but in paths kept
clean by poor ]3eople with brooms, it was with
great labour rak'd together and thrown up into
carts open above, the sides of which suffer 'd
some of the slush at every jolt on the pavement
to shake out and fall, sometimes to the annoy-
ance of foot-passengers. The reason given for
not sweeping the dusty streets was, that the
dust would fly into the windows of shops and
houses.

An accidental occurrence had instructed me
how much sweeping might be done in a little
time. I found at my door in Craven-street, one

120

Civic Pride

morning, a poor woman sweeping my pave-
ment with a birch broom ; she appeared very
pale and feeble, as just come out of a fit of sick-
ness. I ask'd who employ'd her to sweep
there ; she said : " Nobody ; but I am very
poor and in distress, and I sweeps before gen-
tlefolkses doors, and hopes they will give me
something. ' ' I bid her sweep the whole street
clean, and I would give her a shilling ; this
was at nine o'clock ; at 12 she came for the
shilling. From the slowness I saw at first in
her working, I could scarce believe that the
work was done so soon, and sent my servant to
examine it, who reported that the whole street
was swept perfectly clean, and all the dust
plac'd in the gutter, which was in the middle ;
and the next rain wash'd it quite away, so that
the pavement and even the kennel were per-
fectly clean.

I then judg'd that, if that feeble woman could
sweep such a street in three hours, a strong,
active man might have done it in half the time.
And here let me remark the convenience of
having but one gutter in such a narrow street,
running down its middle, instead of two, one
on each side, near the footway ; for where all
the rain that falls on a street runs from the sides
and meets in the middle, it forms there a cur-
rent strong enough to wash away all the mud
it meets with : but when divided into two chan-
nels, it is often too weak to cleanse either, and
only makes the mud it finds more fluid, so that

121

Benjamin Franklin

the wheels of carriages and feet of horses throw
and dash it upon the foot-pavement, which is
thereby rendered foul and slippery, and some-
times splash it upon those who are walking.
My proposal, communicated to the good doctor,
was as follows :

" For the more effectual cleaning and keep-
ing clean the streets of London and Westmin-
ster, it is proposed that the several watchmen
be contracted with to have the dust swept up
in dry seasons, and the mud rak'd up at other
times, each in the several streets and lanes of
his round ; that they be furnish 'd with brooms
and other proper instruments for these pur-
poses, to be kept at their respective stands,
ready to furnish the poor people they may em-
ploy in the service.

' ' That in the dry summer months the dust
be all swept up into heaps at proper distances,
before the shops and windows of houses are
usually opened, when the scavengers, with
close-covered carts, shall also carry it all away.

" That the mud, when rak'd up, be not left
in heaps to be spread abroad again by the
wheels of carriages and trampling of horses,
but that the scavengers be provided with bodies
of carts, not plac'dhigli upon wheels, but low
upon sliders, with lattice-bottoms, which, being
cover'd with straw, will retain the mud thrown
into them, and permit the water to drain from
it, whereby it will become much lighter, water
making the greatest part of its weight ; these

122

Civic Pride

bodies of carts to be plac'd at convenient dis-
tances, and the mud brought to them in wheel-
barrows ; they remaining where plac'd till the
mud is drain'd, and then horses brought to
draw them away. ' '

I have since had doubts of the practicability
of the latter part of this proposal, on account of
the narrowness of some streets, and the diffi-
culty of placing the draining-sleds so as not to
encumber too much the passage ; but I am still
of opinion that the former, requiring the dust
to be swept up and carry 'd away before the
shops are open, is very practicable in summer,
when the days are long ; for, in walking thro*
the Strand and Fleet-street one morning at
seven o'clock, I observ'd there was not one shop
open, tho' it had been daylight and the sun up
above three hours ; the inhabitants of London
chusing voluntarily to live much by candle-
light, and sleep by sunshine, and yet often
complain, a little absurdly, of the duty on can-
dles, and the high price of tallow.

Some may think these trifling matters not
worth minding or relating ; but when they con-
sider that tho' dust blown into the eyes of a
single person, or into a single shop on a windy
day, is but of small importance, yet the great
number of the instances in a populous city,
and its frequent repetitions give it weight and
consequence, perhaps they will not censure very
severely those who bestow some attention to
affairs of this seemingly low nature. Human

123

Benjamin Franklin

felicity is produc'd not so much by great pieces
of good fortune that seldom happen, as by little
advantages that occur every day. Thus, if you
teach a poor young man to shave himself, and
keep his razor in order, 3-ou may contribute
more to the happiness of his life than in giving
him a thousand guineas. The money may be
soon spent, the regret only remaining of having
foolishly consumed it ; but in the other case,
he escapes the frequent vexation of waiting for
barbers, and of their sometimes dirty fingers,
offensive breaths, and dull razors ; he shaves
when most convenient to him, and enjoys daily
the pleasure of its being done with a good in-
strument. With these sentiments I have haz-
arded the few preceding pages, hoping they
may afford hints which some time or other may
be useful to a city I love, having lived many
years in it very happily, and perhaps to some
of our towns in America.

124

Philosophical Experiments.

In 1746, being at Boston, I met there with a
Dr. Spence, who was lately arrived from Scot-
land, and show'd me some electric experiments.
They were imperfectly perform' d, as he was
not very expert ; but, being on a subject quite
new to me, they equally surpris'd and pleased
me. Soon after my return to Philadelphia, our
library company receiv'd from Mr. P. Collin-
son. Fellow of the Royal Society of London, a
present of a glass tube, with some account of
the use of it in making such experiments. I
eagerly seized the opportunity of repeating
what I had seen at Boston ; and, by much prac-
tice, acquir'd great readiness in performing
those, also, which we had an account of from
England, adding a number of new ones. I say
much practice, for my house was continually
full, for some time, with people who came to
see these new wonders.

To divide a little this incumbrance among
my friends, I caused a number of similar tubes
to be blown at our glass-house, with which they
furnish 'd themselves, so that we had at length
several performers. Among these, the princi-
pal was Mr. Kinnersley, an ingenious neighbor,

12:;

Benjamin Franklin

who, being out of business, I encouraged to un-
dertake showing the experiments for money,
and drew up for him two lectures, in which the
experiments were rang'd in such order, and ac-
companied with such explanations in such
method, as that the foregoing should assist in
comprehending the following. He procur'd an
elegant apparatus for the purpose, in which all
the little machines that I had roughly made for
myself were nicely form'd by instrument-
makers. His lectures were well attended, and
gave great satisfaction ; and after some time
he went thro' the colonies, exhibiting them in
every capital town, and pick'd up some money.
In the AVest India islands, indeed, it was with
difficulty the experiments could be made, from
the general moisture of the air.

Oblig'd as we were to Mr. Collinson for his
present of the tube, etc., I thought it right he
should be inform'd of our success in using it,
and wrote him several letters containing ac-
counts of our experiments. He got them read
in the Royal Society, where they were not at
first thought worth so much notice as to be
printed in their Transactions. One paper,
which I wrote for Mr. Kinnersley, on the same-
ness of lightning with electricity, I sent to Dr.
Mitchel, an acquaintance of mine, and one of
the members also of that society, who wrote
me word that it had been read, but was laughed
at by the connoisseurs. The papers, however,
being shown to Dr. Fothergill, he thought them

126

Philosophical Experiments

of too much value to be stifled, and advis'd the
printing of them. Mr. Collinson then gave
them to Cave for publication in his Gentleman'' s
Magazine ; but he chose to print them sepa-
rately in a pamphlet, and Dr. Fothergill wrote
the preface. Cave, it seems, judged rightly for
his profit, for by the additions that arrived after-
ward, they swell 'd to a quarto volume, which
has had five editions, and cost him nothing for
copy-money.

It was, however, some time before those pa-
pers were much taken notice of in England.
A copy of them happening to fall into the hands
of the Count de Buff on, a philosopher deserv-
edly of great reputation in France, and, in-
deed, all over Europe, he prevailed with M.
Dalibard to translate them into French, and
they were printed at Pans. The publication
offended the Abbe Nollet, preceptor in Natural
Philosophy to the royal family, and an able ex-
perimenter, who had form'd and publish'd a
theory of electricity, which then had the gen-
eral vogue. He could not at first believe that
such a work came from America, and said it
must have been fabricate'd by his enemies at
Paris, to decry his system. Afterwards, hav-
ing been assur'd that there reall}' existed such
a person as Franklin at Philadelphia, which he
had doubted, he wrote and published a volume
of Letters, chiefly address'd to me, defending
his theory, and denying the verity of my experi-
ments, and of the positions deduc'd from them.

127

Benjamin Franklin

I once purpos'd answering the abbe, and
actually began the answer ; but, on considera-
tion that my writings contain'd a description
of experiments which any one might repeat
and verify, and if not to be verifi'd, could not
be defended ; or of observations offer' d as con-
jectures, and not delivered dogmatically, there-
fore not laying me under any obligation to de-
fend them ; and reflecting that a dispute be-
tween two persons, writing in different lan-
guages, might be lengthened greatly by mis-
translations, and thence misconceptions of one
another's meaning, much of one of the abbe's
letters being founded on an error in the trans-
lation, I concluded to let my papers shift for
themselves, believing it was better to spend
what time I could spare from public business in
making new experiments, than in disputing
about those already made. I therefore never
answered M. Nollet, and the event gave me no
cause to repent m}'- silence ; for my friend M. le
Roy, of the Royal Academy of Sciences, took
up my cause and refuted him ; my book was
translated into the Italian, German, and Latin
languages ; and the doctrine it contain'd was
by degrees universally adopted by the philoso-
phers of Europe, in preference to that of the
abbe ; so that he lived to see himself the last of

his sect, except Monsieur B , of Paris, bis

eleve and immediate disciple.

What gave my book the more sudden and
general celebrity, was the success of one of its

128

Philosophical Experiments

proposed experiments, made by Messrs. Dali-
bard and De Lor at Marly, for drawing light-
ning from the clouds. This engag'd the public
attention everywhere. M. de Lor, who had an
apparatus for experimental philosophy, and lec-
tur'd in that branch of science, undertook to re-
peat what he called the Philadelphia Expert-
me7its ; and, after they were performed before
the king and court, all the curious of Paris
flocked to see them. I will not swell this nar-
rative with an account of that capital experi-
ment, nor of the infinite pleasure I receiv'd in
the success of a similar one I made soon after
with a kite at Philadelphia, as both are to be
found in the histories of electricity.

Dr. Wright, an English physician, when at
Paris, wrote to a friend, who was of the Royal
Society, an account of the high esteem my ex-
periments were in among the learned abroad,
and of their wonder that my writings had been
so little noticed in England. The society, on
this, resum'd the consideration of the letters
that had been read to them ; and the celebrated
Dr. Watson drew up a summary account of
them, and of all I had afterwards sent to Eng-
land on the subject, which he accompanied with
some praise of the writer. This summary was
then printed in their transactions ; and some
members of the society in London, particularly
the very ingenious Mr. Canton, having verified
the experiment of procuring lightning from the
clouds by a pointed rod, and acquainting them

12CJ

Benjamin Franklin

with the success, they soon made me more than
amends for the shght with which they had be-
fore treated me. Without my having made any
apphcation for that honor, they chose me a
member, and voted that I should be excus'd
the customary payments, which would have
amounted to twenty-five guineas ; and ever
since have given me their Transactions gratis.
They also presented me with the gold medal of
Sir Godfrey Copley for the \'ear 1753, the de-
livery of which was accompanied by a very
handsome speech of the president, Lord Mac-
clesfield, wherein I was highly honoured.

130

Poor Richard's Almanac.

Poor Richard's Almanac.

["In 1732 1 first published my Almanac, under
the name of Richard Saunders ; it was con-
tinued by me about twenty-five years, com-
monly called Poor Richard'' s Abnanac. I en-
deavored to make it both entertaining and use-
ful ; and it accordingly came to be in such
demand, that I reaped considerable profit from
it, vending annually near ten thousand. And
observing that it was generally read, scarce
any neighborhood in the province being v/ith-
out it, I considered it as a proper vehicle for
conveying instruction among the common peo-
ple, who bought scarcely any other books ; I
therefore filled all the little spaces that occurred
between the remarkable days in the calendar
with proverbial sentences, chiefly such as in-
culcated industry and frugality as the means of
procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue ;
it being more difficult for a man in want to act
always honestly, as, to use here one of those
proverbs, // is hard for an empty sack fa stand
upright.

These proverbs, which contained the wisdom
of many ages and nations, I assembled and
formed into a connected discourse prefixed to

133

Benjamin Franklin

the Almanac of 1757, as "the harangue of a
wise old man to the people attendmg an auc-
tion. The bringing all these scattered counsels
thus into a focus enabled them to make greater
impression. The piece, being universally ap-
proved, was copied in all the newspapers of the
Continent ; reprinted in Britain on a broadside,
to be stuck up in houses ; two translations were
made of it in French, and great numbers
bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute
gratis among their poor parishioners and ten-
ants, In Pennsylvania, as it discouraged use-
less expense in foreign superfluities, some
thought it had its share of influence in produc-
ing that growing plenty of money which was ob-
servable for several years after its publication. ' ']

Franklin's Autobiography.
Courteous Reader.

I have heard that nothing gives an author so
great pleasure as to find his works respectfully
quoted by other learned authors. This pleasure
I have seldom enjoyed. For though I have
been, if I may say it without vanity, an eini-
ncjit author of Almanacs annually, now a full
quarter of a century, my brother authors in the
same w^ay, for what reason I know not, have
ever been very sparing in their applauses ; and
no other author has taken the least notice of
me : so that did not my writings produce me
some solid Pudding, the great deficiency of
Praise would have quite discouraged me.

134

Poor Richard's Almanac

I concluded at length, that the people were
the best judges of my merit ; for they buy my
works : and besides, in my rambles, where I
am not personally known, I have frequently
heard one or other of my Adages repeated, wnth
** as Poor Richard says !" at the end of it.
This gave me some satisfaction, as it shewed,
not only that my Instructions were regarded,
but discovered likewise some respect for my
Authority. And I own, that to encourage the
practice of remembering and repeating those
wise Sentences, I have sometimes quoted my-
self with great gravity.

Judge, then, how much I must have been
gratified by an incident I am going to relate to
you !

I stopped my horse lately, where a great
number of people were collected at a Vendue
\sale'\ of Merchant's goods. The hour of sale
not being come, they were conversing on the
badness of the Times : and one of the company
called to a clean old man, with white locks,
" Pray, Father Abraham ! what do you think
of the Times ? Won't these heavy taxes quite
ruin the country ? How shall we be ever able
to pay them ? What would you advise us to ?"

Father Abraham stood up, and replied, " If
yion would have my advice, I will give it you,
in short ; for a word to the wise is enough,
and fnany words won't fill a bushel, as Poor
Richard says."

They all joined, desiring him to speak his

135

Benjamin Franklin

•mind ; and gathering round him, he proceeded
as follows :

Friends, says he, and neighbours ! The taxes
are indeed very heavy ; and if those laid
on by the Government were the only ones we
had to pay, we might the more easily discharge
them : but we have many others, and much
more grievous to some of us. "We are taxed
twice as much by our Idleness, three times as
much by our Pride, and four times as much by
our Folly : and from these taxes, the Commis-
sioners cannot ease, or deliver us by allowing
an abatement. However let us hearken to
good advice, and something may be done for
■us. GOD helps ihe))i that help themselves^
as Poor Richard says in his Al7na7iac of 1733.

It would be thought a hard Government that
should tax its people One-tenth part of their
Time, to be employed in its service. But Idle-
ness taxes many of us much more ; if we reckon
all that is spent in absolute sloth, or doing of
nothing ; with that which is spent in idle em-
ployments or amusements that amount to noth-
ing. Sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolute-
ly shortens life. Sloth, like Rust, consumes
faster thafi Labour wears ; while the used
key is always bright, as Poor RiCHARD says.
But dost thou love Life f Then do not squan-
der time ! for that' s the stuff Life is made of,
as Poor Richard says.

How much more than is necessary do we
spend in sleep ? forgetting that the sleeping

136

Poor Richard's Almanac

fox catches no poultry ; and that there will
be sleeping eftough in the grave, as Poor
Richard says. If Time be of all things the
most precious, Wasting of Tiine must be (as
Poor Richard says) the greatest prodigality ;
since, as he elsewhere tells us. Lost ti77ie is
never found agaiti ; and what we call Time
enough ! always proves little enough. Let
us then up and be doing, and doing to the pur-
pose : so, by diligence, shall we do more with
less perplexity. Sloth makes all things diffi-
cult, but Industry all things easy, as Poor
Richard says : and He that riseth late, must
trot all day ; a7id shall scarce overtake his
business at night. While Laziness travels so
slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him, as
we read in Poor Richard ; who adds. Drive
thy business / Let not that drive thee I and

Early to bed, and early to rise.

Makes a man healthy, wealthy, ajid wise.

So what signifies wishiftg and hoping for
better Times ! We may make these Times bet-
ter, if we bestir ourselves ! Ltdustry need not
wish ! as Poor Richard says ; and He that
lives on Hope, will die fasting. There are
no gai?ts without pains. Then Help hands !
for I have no la?ids ; or if I have, they are
smartly taxed. And as Poor Richard likewise
observes, He that hath a Trade, hath an Es-
tate, and He that hath a Calling, hath an
Office of Profit and Hojiour : but, then, the

137

Benjamin Franklin

Trade must be worked at, and the Calling well
followed, or neither the Estate, nor the Office,
will enable us to pay our taxes.

If we are industrious, we shall never starve,
for, as Poor Richard says, At the working
inajf s house. Hunger looks in ; but dares not
etiter. Nor will the Bailiff, or the Constable
enter : for hidustry pays debts, while Despair
increaseth the??i, says Poor Richard.

What though you have found no treasure,
nor has any rich relation left you a legacy,
Diligence is the Mother of Good-luck, as Poor
Richard says ; and God gives all things to
Indicstry. Then

Plough deep, while sluggards sleep ;

And you shall have corn to sell and to keep,

says Poor Dick. Work while it is called to-
day ; for you know not, how much you may
be hindered to-morrow : which makes Poor
Richard say, 07ie To-day is worth two To-
morrows, and farther, Have y oil somewhat to
do to-morrow ? do it to-day !

If you were a servant, would you not be
ashamed that a good master should catch you
idle ? Are you then your own Master ? Be
ashamed to catchyourself idle I as Poor DiCK
says. When there is so much to be done for
yourself, your family, your country, and your
gracious King ; be up by peep of day ! Let
not the sun lovk down, atid say, " Inglorious^
here he lies T' Handle your tools, without

138

Poor Richard's Almanac

mittens ! Remember that The cat iii glove
catches no mice ! as Poor Richard says.

'Tis true there is much to be done ; and per-
haps you are weak handed ; but stick to it
steadily ! and you will see great effects, For
Constant d7'oppt7ig wears away stones, and
By diligence and patiejice, the mouse ate in
two the cable, and little strokes fell great
oaks ; as Poor Richard says in his Almanac,
the year I cannot, just now, remember.

Methinks, I hear some of you say, " Must a
man afford himself no leisure ?"

I will tell thee, my friend ! what Poor
Richard says.

Employ thy ti7ne well if thou meanest to gain

leisure ! and
Si7ice thoti art 7iot sure of a 77zi7iute, throw

not away a7i hour !

Leisure is time for doing something useful.
This leisure the diligent man will obtain ; but
the lazy man never. So that, as Poor Richard
says, A life of leisure, a7id a life of lazi7iess
are two thi7igs. Do you imagine that Sloth
will afford you more comfort than Labour ?
No ! for as Poor Richard says, Trouble
spri7tgs fro77i idle7tess, a7id grievous toil fro7n
needless ease. Ma7iy without labour, would
live by their Wits 07ily ; but they' II break, for
wa7tt of Stock [i.e.. Capital]. Whereas Indus-
try gives comfort, and plenty, and respect.

139

Benjamin Franklin

Fly Pleasures ! and they' II follow yoti ! The
dilige)it spinner has a large shift, and

Now I have a sheep and a cow
Everybody bids me " Good niorro7a."

All which is well said by Foor Richard.

But with our Industry, we must likewise be
Steady, Settled, and Careful : and oversee our
own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust
too much to others. For, as Foor Richard
says,

/ never saw an oft removed tree,

N'or yet aft oft removed family.

That throve so well, as those that settled be.

And again. Three Removes are as bad as a
Fire ; and again Keep thy shop ! and thy shop
will keep thee ! and again. If you would have
your business done, go! if not, send! and
again.

He that by the plough would thrive ;
Himself must either hold or drive.

And again, The Eye of the master will do
more work than both his Ha7ids ; and again,
Want of Care does us 7nore damage than
Want of Knowledge ; and again, Not to over-
see workmen, is to leave thefn your picrse
cpen.

Trusting too much to others' care, is the ruin
of many. For, as the Almanac says, /;/ the
affairs of this world, men are saved, jwt by

140

Poor Richard's Almanac

faith, but by the wajit of it. But a man's own
care is profitable ; for, saith Poor Dick, Learn-
ing is to the Studious, and Riches to the Care-
ful ; as well as Power to the Bold, and Heav-
£71 to the Virtuous. And further, If you
■would have a faithful servant, and 07ie that
you like ; serve yourself !

And again, he adviseth to circumspection and
care, even in the smallest matters ; because
sometimes, A little jteglect may breed great
mischief : adding. For wa7it of a nail^ the shoe
was lost ; for watit of a shoe, the horse was
lost ; and for want of a horse, the rider was
lost ; being overtaken, and slain by the enemy.
All for want of care about a horse-shoe nail.

So much for Industry, my friends ! and at-
tention to one's own business ; but to these we
must add Frugality, if we would make our in-
dustry more certainly successful. A man may,
if he knows not how to save as he gets, keep his
nose, all his life, to the grindstone ; and die
not worth a groat at last. A fat Kitchen
makes a lean Will, as Poor Richard says,
and

Many estates are spettt ift the getting.
Since wome7t,for Tea, forsook spinnitig and

knitting ;
And men, for Punch, forsook hewing ajid

splitting.

If you would be healthy, says he in another

141

Benjamin Franklin

Alfna?tac, think of Saving, as luell as of Get-
ting ! The Indies have not made Spain rich ;
because her Outgoes are greater than her Iji-
conies.

Away, then, with your expensive follies ! and
you will not have so much cause to complain of
hard Times, heavy taxes, and chargeable fam-
ilies. For, as Poor Dick says,

Wome7i and Wine, Game a7id Deceit,
Make the Wealth synall, and the Wants
great.

And farther. What jnaifitaifts one vice, would
drijig up two childre7i.

You may think perhaps, that, a little tea, or
a little punch, now and then ; diet, a little
more costly ; clothes, a little finer ; and a little
entertainment, now and then ; can be no great
matter. But remember what Poor Richard
says. Many a Little makes a Mickle ; and
farther, Beware of little expenses ! a small
leak will sifik a great ship ; and again. Who
dainties love ; shall beggars prove ! and
moreover. Fools make feasts, and wise men
eat thej)i.

Here are you all got together at this Vendue
of Fineries and knicknacks! You call them
Goods : but if you do not take care, they will
prove Evils to some of you ! You expect they
will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may, for
less than they cost ; but if you have no occasion
for them, they must be dear to you ! Remem-

142

Poor Richard's Almanac

ber what Poor Richard says ! Buy ivhat
thou hast no need of, and, ere long, thou shalt
sell thy necessaries ! And again, At a great
pe7inyworth, pause a while ! He means, that
perhaps the cheapness is apparent onl}^, and
not real ; or the bargain , by straitening thee in
thy business, may do thee more harm than
good. For in another place, he says, Many
have been ruified by buying good penny-
worths.

Again, Poor Richard says, ' Tis foolish, to
lay out money i?i a picrchase of Repetitance :
and yet this folly is practised every day at Ven-
dues, for want of minding the Almanac.

Wise men, as Poor Dick says, learti by
others' harms ; Fools, scarcely by their own :
but Felix quein faciunt aliena pericula cau-
tum. Many a one, for the sake of finery on the
back, has gone with a hungry belly, and half
starved their families. Silks and satins, scar-
let and velvets, as Poor Richard says, put
out the kitchen fire ! These are not the neces-
saries of life ; they can scarcely be called the
conveniences : and yet only because they look
pretty, how many want to have them ! The
artificial wants of mankind thus become more
numerous than the natural ; and as Poor DiCK
says. For one ^oor persojt, there are a hundred
indigent.

By these, and other extravagances, the gen-
teel are reduced to poverty, and forced to bor-
Tow of those whom they formerly despised ;

143

Benjamin Franklin

but who, through Industry and Frugality, have
maintained their standing. In which case, it
appears plainly that A pioiigh)nan on his legs
is higher than a getitleinan on his knees, as
Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had
a small estate left them, which they knew not
the getting of. They think 'tis day ! and will
Jiever be night ! ; that a little to be spe7it out
of so niiich ! is jiot worth minding (A Child
and a Fool, as Poor Richard says, imagine
Twenty Shillings and Twe?ity Years can
never be spent) : but always taki7ig out of
the meal tub ^ and never putting in, soon comes
to the bottom. Then, as Poor Dick says,
Whe7i tJie well's dry, they know the worth
of water ! but this they might have known be-
fore, if they had taken his advice. If you
would know the value of mojiey ; go, and try
to borrow some ! For, he that goes a borrow-
ing, goes a sorrowing ! and indeed, so does
he that lends to such people, whe?i he goes to
get it in again I

Poor Z>/c/ir further advises, and says

F07id Pride of Dress is, sure, a very curse I
Ere Fa7icy you co7isult ; consult your purse !

And again. Pride is as loud a beggar as
Wa7it, a7id a great deal 77iore saucy I When
you have bought one fine thing, you must buy
ten rnore, that your appearance may be all of a
piece ; but Poor Dick says, ' Tis easier to sup-
press the First desire, tha7t to satisfy All that

144

Poor Richard's Almanac

follow it. And 'tis as truly folly, for the poor
to ape the rich, as for the frog to swell, in or-
der to equal the ox.

Great Estates may vetiture more ;

But little boats should keep near shore !

'Tis, however, a folly soon punished ! for
Pride that dines 07i Vajiity, steps on Contempt^
as Poor Richard says. And in another place.
Pride breakfasted with Ple7ity, dined with
Poverty, and supped with Infamy .

And, after all, of what use is this Pride of
Appearance ? for which so much is risked, so
much is suffered ! It cannot promote health or
ease pain ! It makes no increase of merit in
the person ! It creates envy ! It hastens mis-
fortune !

What is a butterfly ? At best
He^s but a caterpillar drest !
The gaudy fop's his picture just,

as Poor Richard says.

But what madness must it be, to ru7i into
debt for these superfluities ?

We are offered, by the terms of this Vendue,
Six Months' Credit ; and that, perhaps, has in-
duced some of us to attend it, because we can-
not spare the ready money, and hope now to
be fine without it. But, ah, think what you do,
when you run in debt ? You give to attother,
power over your liberty! If you cannot pay
at the time, you will be ashamed to see your

145

Benjamin Franklin

creditor ! You will be in fear, when you speak
to him ! You will make poor pitiful sneaking
excuses ! and, by degrees, come to lose your
veracity, and sink into base downright lying !
For, as Poor Richard sa^-s. The second vice
is Lying, the first is Rimiiing into Debt : and
again, to the same purpose. Lying rides tcpon
Debf s back. Whereas a free born Englishman
ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see, or
speak to any man living. But Poverty often
deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. ' Tis
hard for an Einpty Bag to stafid upright !
as Poor Richard truly says. What would you
think of that Prince, or the Government, who
should issue an Edict forbidding ^-ou to dress
like a Gentleman or Gentlewoman, on pain of
imprisonment or servitude? Would you not
say that " You are free ! have a right to dress
as you please ! and that such an Edict would
be a breach of your privileges ! and such a Gov-
ernment, tyrannical !" And yet you are about
to put yourself under that tyranny, when you
run in debt for such dress ! Your creditor has
authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of
your liberty, by confining you in gaol for life !
or to sell you for a servant, if you should not be
able to pay him ! When you have got 5'our
bargain ; you may, perhaps, think little of pay-
ment, but Creditors {Poor Richard tells us)
have better memories than Debtors ; and, in
another place, says, Creditors are a super-
stitious sect ! great observers of set days ajid

146

Poor Richard's Almanac

times. The day comes round, before 3^ou are
aware ; and the demand is made, before you
are prepared to satisfy it : or, if you bear your
debt in mind, the term which, at first, seemed
so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely
short. Time will seem to have added wings to
his heels, as well as shoulders. Those have a
short Lent, saith Poor Richard, who owe
7)ioiiey to be paid at Easter. Then since, as
he says, The Borrower is a slave to the Lend-
er, and the Debtor to the Creditor ; disdain
the chain ! preserve your freedom ! and main-
tain your independency ! Be industrious and
free ! be frugal and free ! At present, per-
haps, you may think yourself in thriving cir-
cumstances : and that you can bear a little ex-
travagance without injury : but

For Age and Want, save while you may !
No morning sun lasts a whole day,

as Poor Richard says.

Gain may be temporary and uncertain ; but,
ever while you live, Expense is constant and
certain : and ' lis easier to build two chimneys
thaji to keep one i7i fuel, as Poor Richard
says. So rather go to bed supperless, thaii
rise iti debt !

Get what y oil can ! and what you get, hold !
' Tis the Stone that will ttirti all your lead
into gold !

as Poor Richard says. And when you have

147

Benjamin Franklin

got the Philosopher's Stone, sure, you will no
longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty
of paying taxes.

This doctrine, my friends ! is Reason and
Wisdom ! But, after all, do not depend too
much upon your own Industry, and Frugality,
and Prudence ; though excellent things ! For
they may all be blasted without the Blessing
of Heaven : and, therefore, ask that Blessing
humbly ! and be not uncharitable to those that
at present seem to want it ; but comfort and
help them ! Remember, Job suffered, and was
afterwards prosperous.

And now to conclude. Experience keeps a
dear school ; but Fools will learji tn no others
and scarce in that! for it is true. We may
give Advice, but we canfiot give Condtut, as-
Poor Richard says. However, remember
this ! They that won't be counselled, can't
be helped! as Poor Richard says : and far-
ther, that. If you will not hear reasoti, she'll
surely rap your kjiuckles !

Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue.
The people heard it, and approved the doc-
trine ; and immediately practised the contrary,
just as if it had been a common sermon ! For
the Vendue opened, and they began to buy ex-
travagantly ; notwithstanding all his cautions,
and their own fear of taxes.

I found the good man had thoroughly studied

148

Poor Richard's Almanac

my Almanacs, and digested all I had dropped
on those topics during the course of five and
twenty years. The frequent mention he made
of me, must have tired any one else ; but my
vanity was wonderfully delighted with it :
though I was conscious that not a tenth part of
the wisdom was my own, which he ascribed to
me ; but rather the gleanings I had made of
the Sense of all Ages and Nations. However,
I resolved to be the better for the Echo of it ;
and though I had, at first, determined to buy
stuff for a new coat, I went away resolved to
wear my old one a little longer. Reader ! if
thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great
as mine.

I am, as ever,
Thine, to serve thee !

Richard Saundeks.
July 7, 1757.

149

Selected Essays,

Advice to a Young Tradesman.

To MY Friend A. B.

As you have desired it of me, I write the fol-
lowing hints, which have been of service to me,
^nd may, if observed, be so to you.

Remember that time is money. He that can
earn ten shilhngs a day by his labour, and goes
abroad or sits idle one half of that day, though
he spends but sixpence during his diversion or
idleness, ought not to reckon that the only ex-
pense ; he has really spent, or, rather, thrown
away, five shillings besides.

Remember that credit is money. If a man
lets his money lie in my hands after it is due,
he gives me the interest, or so much as I can
make of it during that time. This amounts to
a considerable sum where a man has good and
large credit, and makes good use of it.

Remember that money is of the prolific, gen-
erating nature. Money can beget money, and
its offspring can beget more, and so on. Five
shillings turned is six, turned again it is seven
and threepence, and so on till it becomes a hun-
dred pounds. The more there is of it, the more
it produces every turning, so that the profits
rise quicker and quicker. He that kills a breed-

•-53

Benjamin Franklin

ing-sow, destroys all her offspring to the thou-
sandth generation. He that murders a crown,
destroys all that it might have produced, even
scores of pounds.

Remember that six pounds a year is but a
groat a day. For this little sum (which may be
daily wasted either in time or expense unper-
ceived) a man of credit may, on his own secur-
ity, have the constant possession and use of a
hundred pounds. So much in stock, briskly
turned by an industrious man, produces great
advantage.

Remember this saying. The good paymaster
is lord of a7iother inaii' s purse. He that is
known to pay punctually and exactly to the
time he promises, may at any tim.e, and on any
occasion, raise all the money his friends can
spare. This is sometimes of great use. After
industry and frugality, nothing contributes
more to the raising of a young man in the world
than punctuality and justice in all his dealings ;
therefore never keep borrowed money an hour
beyond the time you promised, lest a disap-
pointment shut up your friend's purse for ever.

The most trifling actions that affect a man's
credit are to be regarded. The sound of your
hammer at five in the morning or nine at night,
heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months
longer ; but if he sefes you at a billiard-table,
or hears your voice at a tavern when you should
be at work, he sends for his money the next day ;
demands it, before he can receive it, in a lump.

154

Advice to a Young Tradesman

It shows, besides, that you are mindful of
what you owe ; it makes you appear a careful
as well as an honest man, and ttiat still in-
creases your credit.

Beware of thinking all your own that you
possess, and of living accordingly. It is a mis-
take that many people who have credit fall into.
To prevent this, keep an exact account for some
time both of your expenses and your income.
If you take the pains at first to mention particu-
lars, it will have this good effect : you will dis-
cover how wonderfully small, trifling expenses
mount up to large sums, and will discern what
might have been, and may, for the future, be
saved, without occasioning any great incon-
venience.

In short, the way to w^ealth, if you desire it,
is as plain as the way to market. It depends
chiefly on two words, mdustt'y and. frugal ity ;
that is, waste neither tz)ne nor money, but make
the best use of both. Without industry and
frugality nothing will do, and with them every-
thing. He that gets all he can honfestly, and
saves all he gets (necessary expenses excepted),
will certainly become rich, if that Being who
governs the world, to whom all should look for
a blessing on their honest endeavours, doth not;
in his wise providence, otherwise determine.

An Old Tradesman.

155

The Whistle.

TO MADAME BRILLON.

Passy, Xovember lo, 1779.

***** I am charmed with your descrip-
tion of Paradise, and with your plan of hving
there ; and I approve much of your conclusion,
that, in the mean time, we should draw all the
good we can from this world. In my opinion,
w-e might all draw more good from it than we
do, and suffer less evil, if we w^ould take care
not to give too much for whistles. For to me
it seems that most of the unhappy people we
meet wnth are become so by neglect of that
caution.

You ask w^hat I mean ? You love stories, and
will excuse my telling one of myself.

When I was a child of seven years old, my
friends, on a hol3'day, filled my pocket with
coppers. I went directly to a shop where they
sold toys for children ; and, being charmed
with the sound of a whistle that I met by the
way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily
offered and gave all my money for one. I then
came home and went whistling all over the
house, much pleased with my whistle^ but dis-
turbing all the family. ]\Iy brothers, and sis-

'156

The Whistle

ters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I
had made, told me I had given four times as
much for it as it was worth ; put me in mind of
what good things I might have bought with the
rest of the money ; and laughed at me so much
for my folly, that I cried with vexation ; and
the reflection gave me more chagrin than the
whistle gave me pleasure.

This, however, was afterward of use to me,
the impression continuing on my mind ; so
that often, when I was tempted to buy some
unnecessary thing, I said to myself, Don' t give
too much for the whistle ; and I saved my
money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and ob-
served the actions of men, I thought I met with
many, very many, who gave too much for the
whistle.

When I saw one too ambitious of court fa-
vour, sacrificing his time in attendance on
levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and
perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to
myself. This man gives too much for his
whistle.

Whbn I saw another fond of popularity, con-
stantly employing himself in political bustles,
neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them
by that neglect. He pays, indeed, said I, too
much for his whistle.

If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of
comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing
good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citi-

157

Benjamin Franklin

zens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for
the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor man,
said I, you pay too much for your whistle.

When I met with a man of pleasure, sacri-
ficing every laudable improvement of the mind
or of his fortune to mere corporeal sensations,
and ruining his health in their pursuit, Mis-
takeji man, said 1, yoii are providing pain for
yourself instead of pleasure ; you give too
much for your whistle.

If I see one fond of appearance, or fine
clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, fine equi-
pages, all above his fortune, for which he con-
tracts debts and ends his days in prison, Alas I
say I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his
whistle.

When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl
married to an ill-natured brute of a husband,
What a pity, say I, that she should pay so
much for a whistle !

In short, I conceive that great part of the
miseries of mankind are brought upon them by
the false estimates they have made of the value
of things, and by their giving too much for
their whistles.

Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy
people, when I consider that, with all this wis-
dom of which I am boasting, there are certain
things in the world so tempting, for example,
the apples of King John, which, happily, are
not to be bought ; for if they were put to sale
by auction, I might very easily be led to ruin

15S

The Whistle

myself in the purchase, and find that I had once
more given too much for the whistle.

Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever
yours very sincerely and with unalterable affec-
tion,

B. Franklin.

159

Necessary Hints to Those that Would

be Rich.

Written Anno 1736.

The use of money is all the advantage there
is in having money.

For six pounds a year you may have the use
of one hundred pounds, provided you are a man
of known prudence and honesty.

He that spends a groat a day idly, spends
idly above six pounds a year, which is the price
for the use of one hundred pounds.

He that wastes idly a groat's worth of his
time per day, one day with another, wastes the
privilege of using one hundred pounds each
day.

He that idly loses five shillings' worth of
time, loses five shillings, and might as pru-
dently throw five shillings into the sea.

He that loses five shillings, not only loses that
sum, but all the advantage that might be made
by turning it in dealing, which, by the time
that a young man becomes old, will amount to
a considerable sum of money.

Again : he that sells upon credit, asks a price
for what he sells equivalent to the principal and
interest of his money for the time he is to be

160

Necessary Hints

kept out of it ; therefore, he that buys upon
credit pays interest for what he buys, and he
that pays ready money might let that money
out to use : so that he that possesses anything
he bought, pays interest for the use of it.

Yet, in bu^^ing goods, it is best to pay ready
money, because he that sells upon credit ex-
pects to lose five per cent by bad debts ; there-
fore he charges, on all he sells upon credit, an
advance that shall make up that deficiency.

Those who pay for w±at they buy upon cred-
it, pay their share of this advance.

He that pays ready money escapes, or may
escape, that charge.

A penny saved is twopence clear,
A pin a day's a groat a year.

I6I

Motion for Prayers.

Dr. Franklin's motio7i for Prayers in the
Convejition assembled at Philadelphia, 1787,
to revise the the 71 existing Articles of Coji-
federation.

Mr. President,

The small progress we have made after four
or five weeks' close attendance and continual
reasonings wnth each other, our different senti-
ments on almost every question, several of the
last producing as many A'oes as Ayes, is, me-
thinks, a melancholy proof of the imperfection
of the human understanding. We indeed seem
io feel our own want of political wisdom, since
we have been running all about in search of it.
We have gone back to ancient history for mod-
els of government, and examine the different
forms of those republics which, having been
originally formed with the seeds of their own
dissolution, now no longer exist ; and we have
viewed modern states all round Europe, but
find none of their constitutions suitable to our
circumstances.

In this situation of this Assembly, groping,
as it were, in the dark, to find political truth,
and scarce able to distinguish it when presented

162

Motion for Prayers

to US, how has it happened, sir, that we have
not hitherto once thought of humbly applying
to the Father of Lights to illuminate our under-
standings ? In the beginning of the contest
with Britain, when we were sensible of danger,
we had daily prayers in this room for the Divine
protection ! Our prayers, sir, were heard ; and
they were graciously answered. All of us who
were engaged in the struggle must have ob-
served frequent instances of a superintending
Providence in our favour. To that kind Provi-
dence we ow^e this happy opportunity of con-
sulting in peace on the means of establishing
our future national felicity. And have we now
forgotten that powerful friend ? or do we im-
agine we no longer need its assistance ? I have
lived, sir, a long time ; and the longer I live,
the more convincing proofs I see of this truth,
That God gover7is m the affairs of inen !
And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground with-
out his notice, is it probable that an empire can
rise without his aid ? We have been assured,
sir, in the Sacred Writings, that " except the
Lord build the house, they labour in vain that
build it." I firmly believe this ; and I also be-
lieve, that without his concurring aid, we shall
succeed in this political building no better than
the building of Babel : we shall be divided by
our little partial local interests, our projects will
be confounded, and we ourselves shall become
a reproach and a byword down to future ages.
And, what is worse, mankind may hereafter,

163

Benjamin Franklin

from this unfortunate instance, despair of estab-
lishing government by human wisdom, and
leave it to chance, war, and conquest.

I therefore beg leave to move,

That henceforth prayers, imploring the assist-
ance of Heaven and its blessing on our deliber-
ations, be held in this Assembly every mornmg
before we proceed to business ; and that one or
more of the clergy of this city be requested to
officiate in that service.

[Note by Dr. Franklin.] — " The Cojiveiitio7i,
except three or four persons^ thought prayers
unnecessary ! /"

164

Letters.

To Dr. Priestley.

London, September 19, 1772.
Dear Sir,

In the affair of so much importance to you,
wherein you ask my advice, I cannot, for want
of sufficient premises, counsel you what to de-
termine ; but, if you please, I will tell you how.
When those difficult cases occur, they are diffi-
cult chiefly because, while we have them under
consideration, all the reasons, /r*? and con^ are
not present to the mind at the same time ; but
sometimes one set present themselves, and at
other times another, the first being out of sight.
Hence the various purposes or inclinations that
alternately prevail, and the uncertainty that
perplexes us. To get over this, my way is, to
divide half a sheet of paper by a line into two
columns, writing over the one pro and over the
other con : then, during three or four days' con-
sideration, I put down under the different heads
short hints of the different motives that at dif-
ferent times occur to me /or or against the
measure. When I have thus got them all to-
gether in one view, I endeavour to estimate
their respective weights, and where I find two
(one on each side), that seem equal, I strike

167

Benjamin Franklin

them both out. If I find a reason pro equal to
some two reasons con I strike out the three.
If I judge some two reasons con equal to some
three reasons pro, I strike out the five ; and,
thus proceedmg, I find at length where the bal-
a7ice lies ; and if, after a day or two of farther
consideration, nothing new that is of impor-
tance occurs on either side, I come to a deter-
mination accordingly. And though the weight
of reasons cannot be taken with the precision
of algebraic quantities, yet, when each is thus
considered separately and comparatively, and
the whole lies before me, I think I can judge
better, and am less liable to make a rash step ;
and, in fact, I hav-e found great advantage from
this kind of equation, in what may be called
moral or prudential algebra.

Wishing sincerely that you may determine
for the best, I am ever, my dear friend, yours
most affectionately,

B. Franklin.

168

Mr. Strahan.

Philadelphia, July 5, 1775.

You are a member of Parliament, and one
of that majority which has doomed my country
to destruction. You have begun to burn our
towns and murder our people. Look upon your
hands ! they are stained with the blood of your
relations ! You and I were long friends ; you
are now my enemy and— I am yours,

B. Franklin.

160

To General Washington.

Passy, March 5, 1780.
Sir,

I received but lately the letter your excel-
lency did me the honour of writing to me in
recommendation of the ^larquis de Lafayette,
His modesty detained it long in his own hands.
We became acquainted, however, from the time
of his arrival at Paris ; and his zeal for the hon-
our of our country, his activity in our affairs
here, and his firm attachment to our cause and
to you, impressed me with the same regard and
esteem for him that your excellency's letter
would have done had it been immediately de-
livered to me.

Should peace arrive after another campaign
or two, and afford us a little leisure, I should
be happy to see your excellency in Europe, and
to accompany you, if m}'' age and strength
would permit, in visiting some of its most an^
cient and famous kingdoms. You would, on
this side the sea, enjoy the great reputation you
have acquired, pure and free from those little
shades that the jealousy and envy of a man's
countrymen and contemporaries are ev^er, en-
deavouring to cast over living merit. Here you

170

To General Washington

would know and enjoy what posterity will say
of Washington. For a thousand leagues have
nearly the same effect with a thousand years.
The feeble voice of those grovelling passions
cannot extend so far either in time or distance.
At present I enjoy that pleasure for you, as I
frequently hear the old generals of this martial
country (who study the maps of America, and
mark upon them all your operations) speak with
sincere approbation and great applause of 3'Our
conduct, and join in giving you the character
of one of the greatest captains of the age.

I must soon quit the scene, but you may
live to see our country flourish, as it will amaz-
ingly and rapidly after the war is over. Like
a field of young Indian corn, which long fair
weather and sunshine had enfeebled and dis-
coloured, and which in that weak state, by a
thunder-gust of violent wind, hail, and rain,
seemed to be threatened with absolute destruc-
tion ; yet the storm being past, it recovers fresh
verdure, shoots up with double vigour, and de-
lights the eye not of its owner only, but of every
observing traveller.

The best wishes that can be formed for
your health, honour, and happiness, ever attend
you, from yours, &c.,

B. Franklin.

171

To Dr. Mather, Boston.

Passy, May 12, 1784.

Rev. Sir,

I received your kind letter with 3'our excel-
lent advice to the people of the United States,
which I read with great pleasure, and hope it
will be duly regarded. Such writings, though
they may be lightly passed over by many read-
ers, yet if they make a deep impression on one
active mind in a hundred, the effects may be
considerable. Permit me to mention one little
instance, which, though it relates to myself,
will not be quite uninteresting to you. When
I was a boy I met with a book entitled Essays
to do Good, which I think was written by your
father. It had been so little regarded by a for-
mer possessor, that several leaves of it were
torn out : but the remainder gave me such a
turn of thinking as to have an influence on my
conduct through life ; for I have always set a
greater value on the character of a doer of
good, than on any other kind of reputation ;
and if 1 have been, as you seem to think, a use-
ful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it
to that book. You mention 3'our being in your
7Sth year : I am in my 79th ; we are grown old

172

To Dr. Mather, Boston

together. It is now more than sixty years since
I left Boston, but I remember well both your
father and grandfather, having heard them
both in the pulpit, and seen them in their
houses. The last time I saw your father was
in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him
after my first trip to Pennsylvania. He re-
ceived me in his library, and on my taking leave
showed me a shorter way out of the house
through a narrov/ passage, which crossed by a
beam over head. We were still talking as I
withdrew, he accompanying me behind, and I
turning partly towards him, when he said
hastily. Stoop, stoop ! I did not understand
him till I felt my head hit against the beam.
He was a man that never missed any occasion
of giving instruction, and upon this he said to
me, You are young, and have the world be-
fore you ; STOOP as you go through it, and
you will miss many hard thumps. This ad-
vice, thus beat into my head, has frequently
been of use to me ; and I often think of it when
I see pride mortified, and misfortunes brought
upon people by their carrying their heads too
high.

I long much to see agam my native place,
and to lay my bones there. I left it in 1723 ;
I visited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763. In
1773 I was in England ; in 1775 I had a' sight
of it, but could not enter, it being in possession
of the enemy. I did hope to have been there
in 1783, but could not obtain my dismission

173

Benjamin Franklin

from this employment here ; and now I fear I
shall never have that happiness. My best
wishes, however, attend my dear country.
Esto perpetua. It is now blessed with an excel-
lent constitution ; may it last for ever ! * * *
With great and sincere esteem, I have the
honour to be, &c., B. Franklin.

174

To the Bishop of St. Asaph's.

Philadelphia, Feb. 24, 1786.
Dear Friend,

I received lately your kind letter of Novem-
ber 27. My reception here was, as you have
heard, very honourable indeed ; but I was be-
trayed by it, and by some remains of ambition,
from which I had imagined myself free, to ac-
cept of the chair of government for the State of
Pennsylvania, when the proper thing for me
was repose and a private life. I hope, however,
to be able to bear the fatigue for one year, and
then retire.

I have much regretted our having so little
opportunity for conversation when we last met.*
You could have given me informations and
counsels that I wanted, but we were scarce a
minute together without being broken in upon.
I am to thank you, however, for the pleasure I
had, after our parting, in reading the new bookf
you gave me, which I think generally well writ-
ten and likely to do good : though the reading
time of most people is of late so taken up with
newspapers and little periodical pamphlets, that

* At Southampton, previous to Dr. Franklin's em-
barking for the United States.
t Paley's Moral Philosophy.

175

Benjamin Franklin

few nowadays venture to attempt reading a
quarto volume. I have admired to see that in
the last century a folio, Btirto7i o?t Mel aiic holy,
went through six editions in about forty years.
"VVe have, I believe, more readers now, but not
of such large books.

You seem desirous of knowing what prog-
ress we make here in improving our govern-
ments. We are, I think, in the right road of
improvement, for we are making experiments.
I do not oppose all that seem wrong, for the
multitude are more effectually set right by ex-
perience, than kept from going wrong by rea-
soning with them. And I think we are daily
more and more enlightened ; so that I have no
doubt of our obtaining, in a few 3'ears, as much
public felicity as good government is capable
of affording. * * * *

As to my domestic circumstances, of which
you kindly desire to hear something, they are
at present as happy as I could wish them. I
am surrounded by my offspring, a dutiful and
affectionate daughter in my house, with six
grandchildren, the eldest of which 3-ou have
seen, who is now at college in the next street,
finishing the learned part of his education ; the
others promising both for parts and good dispo-
sitions. What their conduct may be when they
grow up and enter the important scenes of life,
I shall not live to see, and I cannot/"<?r^.F^^. I
therefore enjoy among them the present hour,
and leave the future to Providence.

176

To the Bishop of St. Asaph's

He that raises a large family does, indeed,
while he lives to observe them, stand, as Watts
says, a broader Diark for sorrow ; but then
he stands a broader mark for pleasure too.
When we launch our little fleet of barks into
the ocean, bound to different ports, we hope
for each a prosperous voyage ; but contrary
winds, hidden shoals, storms, and enemies,
come in for a share in the disposition of events ;
^nd though these occasion a mixture of disap-
pointment, yet, considering the risk where we
can make no ensurance, we should think our-
selves happy if some return with success. My
son's son (Temple Franklin), whom you have
also seen, having had a fine farm of 600 acres
conveyed to him by his father when we were
at Southampton, has dropped for the present
his views of acting m the political line, and ap-
plies himself ardently to the study and practice
of agriculture. This is much more agreeable
to me, who esteem it the most useful, the most
independent, and, therefore, the noblest of em-
ployments. His lands are on navigable water,
communicating with the Delaware, and but
about 16 miles from this city. He has associ-
ated to himself a very skilful English farmer,
lately arrived here, who is to instruct him in
the business and partakes for a term of the
profits ; so that there is a great apparent proba-
bility of their success. You will kindly expect
a word or two about myself. My health and
spirits continue?, thanks to God, as when you

177

Benjamin Franklin

saw me. The only complaint I then had does
not grow worse, and is tolerable. I still have
enjoyment in the company of my friends ; and,
being easy in my circumstances, have many
reasons to like living. But the course of nature
must soon put a period to my present mode of
existence. This I shall submit to with less re-
gret, as having seen, during a long life, a good
deal of this world, I feel a growing curiosity to
be acquainted with some other ; and can cheer-
fully, with filial confidence, resign my spirit to
the conduct of that great and good Parent of
mankind who created it, and who has so gra-
ciously protected and prospered me from my
birth to the present hour. Wherever I am, I
always hope to retain the pleasing remem-
brance of your friendship ; being, with sincere
and great esteem, my dear friend, yours most
affectionately, B. Franklin.

We all join in respects to Mrs. Shipley.

X78

JUL 1 8 1940