WhenBenjamin was ten years old he had acquired all the education his father thought he could afford to give him. He could write a very good hand, and read fluently, though his knowledge of arithmetic was very limited indeed.
"Are you about ready, Benjamin, to come into the shop and help me?" inquired his father, at the dinner table.
"Am I not going to Mr. Brownwell's school any longer?" he asked, instead of replying to his father's question,—a Yankee-like way of doing things, truly.
"I think the close of this term will complete the education I am able to give you," replied his father. "You will fare, then, better than your brothers, in respect to schooling."
"I had rather not go into the shop," said Benjamin. "I think I shall not like to make candles, and I really wish you would engage in some other business."
"And starve, too," said his father. "In such times as these we must be willing to dowhat will insure us a livelihood. I know of no other business that would give me a living at present, certainly none that I am qualified to pursue."
Mr. Franklin was a dyer by trade, in England, and designed to continue it when he removed to America, about the year 1685. But he found, on arriving at Boston, that it would be quite impossible for him to support his family at this trade. The country was new, and the habits of the people were different from those of the English, so that the dyeing business could receive but little patronage. The next pursuit that presented itself, with fair promises of success, was that of "tallow-chandler and soap-boiler;" not so cleanly and popular a business as some, but yet necessary to be done, and very useful in its place; and this was enough for such a man as Mr. Franklin to know. He cared very little whether the trade was popular, so long as it was indispensable and useful. To him no business was dishonourable, if the wants of society absolutely demanded it.
"Well, I should rather make soap and candles than starve," said Benjamin; "but nothing else could make me willing to follow the business."
"One other thing ought to make you willing to do such work," added his father. "You had better do this than do nothing, for idleness is the parent of vice. Boys like you should be industrious, even if they do not earn their bread. Itis better for them to work for nothing than not to work at all."
"I think they may save their strength till they can earn something," said Benjamin. "People must like to work better than I do, to work for nothing."
"You do not understand me," continued Mr. Franklin. "I mean to say, it is so important for the young to form industrious habits, that they had better work for nothing than to be idle. If they are idle when they are young, they will be so when they become men, and idleness will finally be their ruin. 'The devil tempts all other men, but idle men tempt the devil,' is an old and truthful proverb, and I hope you will never consent to verify it."
Mr. Franklin had been a close observer all his life, and he had noticed that industry was characteristic of those who accomplished anything commendable. Consequently he insisted that his children should have employment. He allowed no drones in his family hive. All had something to do as soon as they were old enough to toil. Under such influences Benjamin was reared, and he grew up to be as much in love with industry as his father was. Some of his best counsels, and most interesting sayings, when he became a man, related to this subject. The following are among the maxims which he uttered in his riper years:—
"Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labour wears; while the used key is always bright.""But dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.""If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be the greatest prodigality.""Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy; and he that ariseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night; while laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him.""At the working man's house hunger looks in, but dares not enter.""Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to industry.""One to-day is worth two to-morrows.""Drive thy business, let not thy business drive thee.""God helps them that help themselves."
"Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labour wears; while the used key is always bright."
"But dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of."
"If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be the greatest prodigality."
"Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy; and he that ariseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night; while laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him."
"At the working man's house hunger looks in, but dares not enter."
"Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to industry."
"One to-day is worth two to-morrows."
"Drive thy business, let not thy business drive thee."
"God helps them that help themselves."
These are very beautiful and expressive sentences, and they show that Benjamin Franklin thought as much of industry in his manhood as his father did a quarter of a century before. Take the first, in which he compares slothfulness to rust, which will consume iron tools or machinery faster than their constant use will. As the use of a hoe or a spade keeps it polished, so the habitual exercise of the powers of human nature preserves them in a good condition. A key that is cast aside soon rusts, and is spoiled, but "theused key is always bright." It is more fit for use because it has been used.
How true it is that "hunger dare not enter the working-man's house!" By the sweat of his brow he earns his daily bread, and his children do not cry with hunger. It is the lazy man's table that has no bread. His children rise up hungry, and go to bed supperless. God himself hath said, "If any would not work, neither should he eat."
"Diligence is the mother of good luck." Another gem of wisdom that commands our acquiescence. How common for the indolent to complain of "bad luck!" Their families need the necessaries of life, as both a scanty table and rent apparel bear witness, and they cast the blame upon "ill luck," "misfortune," "unavoidable circumstances," or something of the kind. Many men whose faces are reddened and blotched by intemperance, begotten in the barroom where they have worse than idled away days and weeks of precious time, are often heard to lament over their "bad luck," as if their laziness and intemperance were not the direct cause of their misery. But it is not often that the diligent experience "bad luck." They receive a reward for their labours, and thrift and honour attend their steps, according as it is written in the Bible: "The soul of the sluggard desireth, andhathnothing; but the soul of the diligentshall be made fat. Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men."
But we need not enlarge upon these sayings of Franklin. They are all charged with wisdom, and might be expanded into volumes. The more we study them, the more beauty we perceive.
It was settled that Benjamin should assist his father in the manufacture of candles, notwithstanding his disinclination to engage in the business. His prospects of more schooling were thus cut off at ten years of age, and now he was obliged to turn his attention to hard work. It was rather an unpromising future to a little boy. No more schooling after ten years of age! What small opportunities in comparison with those enjoyed by nearly every boy at the present day! Now they are just beginning to learn at this early age. From ten they can look forward to six or eight years of golden opportunities in the school-room. Does the young reader appreciate the privileges which he enjoys?
"To-morrow for the work-shop, Benjamin!" exclaimed Mr. Franklin, with a tone of pleasantry, on the evening before he was initiated into the mysteries of making candles. "I am full of business, and need another hand very much at present."
"You can't expect much help from me," said Benjamin, "till I learn how to do the work. SoI am thinking you will continue to be hurried for a while, unless you have another hand besides me."
"You can do what I shall set you about just as well as a boy, or even a man, who had worked at the business for a year."
"I wonder what that can be, that is so easy!" added Benjamin, with some surprise.
"You can cut the wicks, fill the moulds for cast-candles, keep the shop in order, run hither and thither upon errands, and do other things that will save my time, and thus assist me just as much as a man could in doing the same things."
"I am sure," said Mrs. Franklin, who had been listening to the conversation attentively, "that is inducement enough for any boy, but a lazy one, to work. You can make yourself about as useful to your father as a man whom he would have to pay high wages."
"You will aid me just as much in going errands," said his father, "as in doing anything else. I have a good deal of such running to do, and if you do it, I can be employed in the more important part of my business, which no one else can attend to. Besides, your nimble feet can get over the ground much quicker than my older and clumsier ones, so that you can really perform this part of the business better than I can myself."
Benjamin made no reply to these last remarks, although he was more favourably impressed, afterhearing them, with the tallow-chandler's calling. On the following day he entered upon his new vocation, and, if "variety is the spice of life," then his first day in the shop had a plenty of spice. The shop was situated at the corner of Hanover and Union Streets, having the sign of a large blue ball, bearing the inscription:
1698JosiasFranklin1698.
1698JosiasFranklin1698.
1698JosiasFranklin1698.
He cut wicks, filled moulds, performed errands, and played the part of general waiter, in which there was much variety. And this was his work for successive weeks, very little of his time running to waste. Do you ask how he likes it? The following conversation with his mother will answer.
"I don't like it at all, mother,—no better than I thought I should," he said. "I wish I could do something else."
"What else is there for you to do, Benjamin?" replied his mother. "What would you like to do?"
"I would like to go to sea."
"Go to see what?" she inquired, as if she did not understand him at first.
"Go on a voyage to Europe, or the East Indies."
"What!" exclaimed his mother, exhibiting surprise, for she had not dreamed that her son had any inclination to go to sea. "Wantto be a sailor? What put that into your head?"
"I have always thought I should like to go to sea," he answered; "and I am so tired of making candles that I want to go now more than ever."
"I am astonished, Benjamin. You might know that I should never give my consent to that. I should almost as lief bury you. And how can you want to leave your good home, and all your friends, to live in a ship, exposed to storms and death all the time?"
"It is not because I do not love my home and friends, but I have a desire to sail on a voyage to some other country. I like the water, and nothing would suit me so well as to be a cabin-boy."
"There, Benjamin, you must never say another word about it," continued his mother; "and you must not think any more about going; for I shall never give my consent, and I knowyour father never will. It was almost too much for me when your brother broke away from us, and went to sea. I could not pass through another such trial. So you must not persist in your wish, if you would not send me down to the grave." And here his mother alluded to one of the most bitter experiences of her life, when a son older than Benjamin became restless at home, and would not be persuaded from his purpose ofgoing to sea. It caused her many unhappy hours.
Benjamin had said nothing about this matter to his father, and this prompt veto of his mother put a damper on his hopes, so that he continued to work at the shop, with all his dislike for the business. His parents talked over the matter, and his father was led thereby to watch him more carefully, that he might nip the first buddings of desire for the sea. At length, however, Benjamin ventured to make known his wishes to his father.
"I have thought," said he, "that I should like to go to sea, if you are willing;" and there he stopped, evidently expecting to be refused.
"What has happened to lead you to desire this?" inquired his father.
"Not anything," he answered. "I always thought I should like it,—though I have had a stronger desire lately."
"I see how it is," continued his father. "You have been to the water with the boys frequently of late, and I have noticed that you loved to be in a boat better than to make candles. I am afraid that your sports on the water are making you dissatisfied with your home, and that here is the secret of your wanting to go to sea."
"No, father; I think as much of my home as I ever did, and I like a boat no better now than I did the first time I got into one."
"Perhaps it is so; but boys don't always know when they are losing their attachment to home. You need not say another syllable, however, about going to sea, for I shall never consent to it. You may as well relinquish at once all thought of going, since I strictly forbid your laying any such plans. If you do not wish to be a tallow-chandler, you may try some other business. I shall not insist upon your working with me, though I shall insist upon your following some calling."
"I shall not want to go to sea against your wishes," said Benjamin. "I only thought I would go if you and mother were perfectly willing. I can work at this dirty trade, too, if you think it is best, though I can never like it."
"I am glad to see that you have so much regard for your parents' wishes," said his father. "If your brother had been as considerate, he never would have become a sailor. Children should always remember that their parents know best, as they have had more experience and time to observe. I say again, if you will abandon all thoughts of a seafaring life, I will try to find you a situation to learn some trade you may choose for yourself."
Benjamin was not disposed to enter upon a sailor's life contrary to his parents' counsels, and he submitted to his father's decision with as much cheerfulness and good feeling as could beexpected in the circumstances. He knew that it was little use to tease his father when he said "no" to a project. His emphatic "no" usually put an end to all controversy.
There is little doubt that Benjamin had been somewhat influenced by his frolics in and on the water. For some time, as opportunity offered, he had been down to the water both to bathe and take boat-rides. He had become an expert swimmer in a very short time, and not one of the boys so readily learned to manage a boat. He exhibited so much tact in these water feats, that he was usually regarded as a leader by the boys, and all matters of importance were referred to his judgment. It was not strange that he should be more in love with an ocean life after such pastimes with his comrades. Whether he admitted it or not, it is probable that his desire to go to sea was greatly increased by these pleasant times in and on the water.
It was certainly a poor prospect that was before the young tallow-chandler. It was not a trade to call into exercise the higher and nobler faculties of the mind and heart. On that account, no one could expect that Benjamin would rise to much distinction in the world; and this will serve to awaken the reader's surprise as he becomes acquainted with the sequel. A little fellow, ten or twelve years of age, cutting the wicks of candles, and filling the moulds, does notpromise to become a great statesman and philosopher. Yet with no more promise than this some of the most distinguished men commenced their career. Behold Giotti, as he tends his father's flock, tracing the first sketches of the divine art in the sand with a clumsy stick,—a deed so unimportant that it foreshadowed to no one his future eminence. See Daniel Webster, the great expounder of the American Constitution, sitting, in his boyhood, upon a log in his father's mill, and studying portions of that Constitution which were printed upon a new pocket-handkerchief; a trivial incident at the time, but now bearing an important relation to that period of his life when his fame extended to every land. Recall the early life of Roger Sherman, bound as an apprentice to a shoemaker in consequence of his father's poverty, with little education and no ancestral fame to assist him,—how exceeding small the promise that his name would yet be prominent in his country's history! In like manner, the little candle-making lad of Boston, in 1717, scarcely appears to be related to the philosopher and statesman of the same name, in 1775. But the hand of God is in the lives of men as really as in the history of nations.
The reader should not make use of the fact that Franklin, and other eminent men, enjoyed small opportunities to acquire knowledge, as a plea that he himself need not be kept in schoolfor a series of years. It is true that a little mental improvement may work wonders for a person in some circumstances, and it should lead us to inquire, if a little will accomplish so much, what will greater advantages do for him? A very little knowledge of electricity once saved the life of Benjamin Russell in his youth. He was an eminent citizen of Boston, born in the year 1761, and in his younger years he had learned from the writings of Franklin, who had become a philosopher, that it was dangerous to take shelter, during a thunder-shower, under a tree, or in a building not protected with lightning-rods. One day, in company with several associates, he was overtaken by a tempest, and some of the number proposed that they should take shelter under a large tree near by, while others advised to enter a neighbouring barn. But young Russell opposed both plans, and counselled going under a large projecting rock as the safest place. The result showed that a little knowledge of electricity was of great service to him; for both the barn and the tree were struck by lightning. But neither Benjamin Russell, nor any one else, from that day to this, would think of saying that there is no need of knowing much about electricity, since a little knowledge of it will do so much good. They might say it as reasonably, however, as a youth can say that there is no need of much schooling,since Benjamin Franklin, and others, became honoured and useful though they did not go to school after ten or twelve years of age. The deep regret of all this class of influential men ever has been, that their early advantages were so limited. George Stephenson, who did not learn to read until he was eighteen years old, felt so keenly on this point, that, when his own son became old enough to attend school, he sat up nights and mended the shoes and clocks of his neighbours, after having completed his day's labour, to obtain the means of educating him.
The Rogue's Wharf.—See page 44.The Rogue's Wharf.—See page 44.
"Allaboard!" exclaimed Benjamin, and so saying he bounded into the boat that lay at the water's edge. "Now for a ride: only hurry up, and make the oars fly;" and several boys leaped in after him from the shaking, trampled quagmire on which they stood.
"We shall be heels over head in mud yet," said one of the number, "unless we try to improve the marsh. There is certainly danger that we shall go through that shaky place, and I scarcely know when we shall stop, if we begin to go down."
"Let us build a wharf," said Benjamin, "and that will get rid of the quagmire. It won't be a long job, if all take hold."
"Where will you get your lumber?" inquired John.
"Nowhere. We don't want any lumber, for stones are better," answered Benjamin.
"It is worse yet to bring stones so far, and enough of them," added John. "You must liketo lift better than I do, to strain yourself in tugging stones here."
"Look there," continued Benjamin, pointing to a heap of stones only a few rods distant. "There are stones enough for our purpose, and one or two hours is all the time we want to build a wharf with them."
"But those stones belong to the man who is preparing to build a house there," said Fred. "The workmen are busy there now."
"That may all be," said Benjamin, "but they can afford to lend them to us awhile. They will be just as good for their use after we have done with them."
"Then you expect they will lend them to you, I perceive; but you'll be mistaken," answered Fred.
"My mode of borrowing them is this,—we will go this evening, after the workmen have gone home, and tug them over here, and make the wharf long before bedtime;" and Benjamin looked queerly as he said it.
"And get ourselves into trouble thereby," replied another boy. "I will agree to do it if you will bear all the blame of stealing them."
"Stealing!" exclaimed Benjamin. "It is not stealing to take such worthless things as stones. A man couldn't sell an acre of them for a copper."
"Well, anyhow, the men who have had thelabour of drawing them there won't thank you for taking them."
"I don't ask them to thank me. I don't think the act deserves any thanks," and a roguish twinkle of the eye showed that he knew he was doing wrong. And he added, "I reckon it will be a joke on the workmen to-morrow morning to find their pile of stones missing."
"Let us do it," said John, who was taken with the idea of playing off a joke. "I will do my part to carry the thing through."
"And I will do mine," said another; and by this time all were willing to follow the example of Benjamin, their leader. Perhaps all were afraid to say "No," according to the dictates of conscience, now that the enterprise was indorsed by one or two of their number. Boys are too often disposed to go "with the multitude to do evil." They are often too cowardly to do what they know is right.
The salt marsh, bounding a part of the millpond where their boat lay, was trampled into a complete quagmire. The boys were accustomed to fish there at high water, and so many feet, so often treading on the spot, reduced it to a very soft condition. It was over this miry marsh that they proposed to build a wharf.
The evening was soon there, and the boys came together on their rogue's errand. Theysurveyed the pile of stones, and found it ample for their purpose, though it looked like a formidable piece of work to move them.
"Some of them are bigger than two of us can lift," said Fred.
"Then three of us can hitch to and carry them," said Benjamin. "They must all be worked into a wharf this evening. Let us begin,—there is no time to lose."
"The largest must go first," said John. "They are capital ones for the foundation. Come, two or three must take hold of this," at the same time laying hold of one of the largest.
So they went to work with decided perseverance (the only commendable thing about the transaction), sometimes three or four of them working away at one stone, lifting and rolling it along. Benjamin was never half so zealous in cutting candle-wicks as he was in perpetrating this censurable act. He was second to no one of the number in cheerful active service on this occasion.
The evening was not spent when the last stone was carried away, and the wharf was finished,—a work of art that answered their purpose very well, though it was not quite so imposing as Commercial Wharf is now, and was not calculated to receive the cargo of a very large Liverpool packet.
"What a capital place it makes for fishing!" exclaimed Fred. "It is worth all it cost for that."
"Perhaps it will cost more than you think for before we get through with it," said John. "We can tell better about that when the workmen find their stones among the missing."
"I should like to hear what they will say," responded Benjamin, "when they discover what we have done, though I hardly think they will pay us much of a compliment. But I must hurry home, or I shall have trouble there. Come on, boys, let us go."
At this they hastened to their homes, not designing to make known the labours of the evening, if they could possibly avoid interrogation. They knew that their parents would disapprove of the deed, and that no excuse could shield them from merited censure. It was not strange, then, that they were both afraid and ashamed to tell of what they had done. But we will let twenty-four hours pass. On the following evening, when Mr. Franklin took his seat at his fireside, Benjamin had taken his book and was reading.
"Benjamin," said his father, "where was you last evening?"
Benjamin knew by his father's anxious look that there was trouble. He imagined that he had heard of their enterprise on the previousevening. After some hesitation, he answered, "I was down to the water."
"What was you doing there?"
"We were fixing up a place for the boat."
"See that you tell the truth, Benjamin, and withhold nothing. I wish to know what you did there."
"We built a wharf."
"What had you to build it with?"
"We built it of stones."
"And where did you get your stones?"
"There was a pile of them close by."
"Did they belong to you?"
"I suppose not."
"Did you not know that they belonged to the man who is building the house?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you deliberately resolved to steal them, did you?"
"It isn't stealing to take stones."
"Why, then, did you take them in the evening, after the workmen had gone home? Why did you not go after them when the workmen were all there?"
Benjamin saw that he was fairly caught, and that, bright as he was, he could not get out of so bad a scrape unblamed. So he hung his head, and did not answer his father's last question.
"I see plainly how it is," continued his father; "it is the consequence of going out inthe evening with the boys, which I must hereafter forbid. I have been willing that you should go out occasionally, because I have thought it might be better for you than so much reading. But you have now betrayed my confidence, and I am satisfied more than ever that boys should be at home in the evening, trying to improve their minds. You have been guilty of an act that is, quite flagrant, although it may have been done thoughtlessly. You should have known better, after having received so much good instruction as you have had at home."
"I did know better," frankly confessed Benjamin.
"And that makes your guilt so much the greater," added his father. "Do you think you will learn a lesson from this, and never do the like again?"
"I will promise that I never will."
Thus frankly did Benjamin confess his wrong, and ever after look upon that act with regret. In mature age he referred to it, and called it one of the first evil acts of his life. It was the second time hepaid too dear for his whistle.
If seems that the workmen missed their stones, when they first reached the spot in the morning, and they soon discovered them nicely laid into a wharf. The proprietor was indignant, and exerted himself to learn who were the authorsof the deed, and in the course of the day he gained the information, and went directly, and very properly, to their parents, to enter complaint. Thus all the boys were exposed, and received just rebuke for their misdemeanor. Benjamin was convinced, as he said of it many years afterwards, "that that which is not honest, could not be truly useful."
We have referred to Benjamin's habit of reading. It had been his custom to spend his evenings, and other leisure moments, in reading. He was much pleased with voyages, and such writings as John Bunyan's. The first books he possessed were the works of Bunyan, in separate little volumes. After becoming familiar with them, he sold them in order to obtain the means to buy "Burton's Historical Collections," which were small, cheap books, forty volumes in all. His father, also, possessed a good number of books for those times, when books were rare, and these he read through, although most of them were really beyond his years, being controversial writings upon theology. His love of reading was so great, that he even read works of this character with a degree of interest. In the library, however, were three or four books of somewhat different character. There was "Plutarch's Lives," in which he was deeply interested; also Defoe's "Essay on Projects." But to no one book was he more indebted than to Dr.Mather's "Essay to do Good." From this he derived hints and sentiments which had a beneficial influence upon his after life. He said, forty or fifty years afterwards, "It gave me a turn of thinking that had an influence on some of the principal future events of my life." And he wrote to a son of Cotton Mather, "I have always set a greater value on the character of a doer of good, than on any other kind of reputation; and if I have been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book." Some of the sentiments of the book which particularly impressed him were as follows: "It is possible that the wisdom of a poor man may start a proposal that may save a city, save a nation." "A mean (humble) mechanic,—who can tell what an engine of good he may be, if humbly and wisely applied unto it?" "The remembrance of having been the man that first moved a good law, were better than a statue erected for one's memory." These, and similar thoughts, stimulated his mind to action, and really caused him to attempt what otherwise would have been impossible.
If Benjamin had been engaged as usual, in reading, on that unfortunate evening, he would have escaped the guilt of an act that turned out to be a serious matter rather than a joke. The habit of spending leisure hours in poring over books, has saved many boys from vice and ruin.Many more might have been saved, if they had been so fond of books as to stay at home evenings to read. It is an excellent habit to form, and tends to preserve the character unsullied, while it stores the mind with useful knowledge.
We shall see, as we advance, that Benjamin became very systematic and economical in the use of his time, that he might command every moment possible to read. The benefit he derived from the exercise when he was young caused him to address the following letter, many years thereafter, to a bright, intelligent girl of his acquaintance. The letter, being devoted to "Advice on Reading," is a valuable one to young persons now.
"I send my good girl the books I mentioned to her last night. I beg of her to accept of them as a small mark of my esteem and friendship. They are written in the familiar, easy manner for which the French are so remarkable, and afford a good deal of philosophic and practical knowledge, unembarrassed with the dry mathematics used by more exact reasoners, but which is apt to discourage young beginners."I would advise you to read with a pen in your hand, and enter in a little book short hints of what you find that is curious, or that may be useful; for this will be the best method of imprinting such particulars on your memory,where they will be ready either for practice on some future occasion, if they are matters of utility, or, at least, to adorn and improve your conversation, if they are rather points of curiosity; and, as many of the terms of science are such as you cannot have met with in your common reading, and may therefore be unacquainted with, I think it would be well for you to have a good dictionary at hand, to consult immediately when you meet with a word you do not comprehend the precise meaning of."This may, at first, seem troublesome and interrupting; but it is a trouble that will daily diminish, as you will daily find less and less occasion for your dictionary, as you become more acquainted with the terms; and, in the meantime, you will read with more satisfaction, because with more understanding. When any point occurs in which you would be glad to have further information than your book affords you, I beg that you would not in the least apprehend that I should think it a trouble to receive and answer your questions. It will be a pleasure and no trouble. For though I may not be able, out of my own little stock of knowledge, to afford you what you require, I can easily direct you to the books where it may most readily be found. Adieu, and believe me ever, my dear friend,"B. Franklin."
"I send my good girl the books I mentioned to her last night. I beg of her to accept of them as a small mark of my esteem and friendship. They are written in the familiar, easy manner for which the French are so remarkable, and afford a good deal of philosophic and practical knowledge, unembarrassed with the dry mathematics used by more exact reasoners, but which is apt to discourage young beginners.
"I would advise you to read with a pen in your hand, and enter in a little book short hints of what you find that is curious, or that may be useful; for this will be the best method of imprinting such particulars on your memory,where they will be ready either for practice on some future occasion, if they are matters of utility, or, at least, to adorn and improve your conversation, if they are rather points of curiosity; and, as many of the terms of science are such as you cannot have met with in your common reading, and may therefore be unacquainted with, I think it would be well for you to have a good dictionary at hand, to consult immediately when you meet with a word you do not comprehend the precise meaning of.
"This may, at first, seem troublesome and interrupting; but it is a trouble that will daily diminish, as you will daily find less and less occasion for your dictionary, as you become more acquainted with the terms; and, in the meantime, you will read with more satisfaction, because with more understanding. When any point occurs in which you would be glad to have further information than your book affords you, I beg that you would not in the least apprehend that I should think it a trouble to receive and answer your questions. It will be a pleasure and no trouble. For though I may not be able, out of my own little stock of knowledge, to afford you what you require, I can easily direct you to the books where it may most readily be found. Adieu, and believe me ever, my dear friend,
"B. Franklin."
"Yes," replied Mr. Franklin, to the inquiry of a friend who was dining with him; "my ancestors were inured to hardships, and I myself am not altogether a stranger to them. I had but little opportunity of going to school, and have always had to work hard for a livelihood."
"So much the better for you now," replied his friend; "for in this new country, and these hard times, you cannot find the support of a large family an easy matter."
"That is true; but I have never regretted coming to this country. The liberty of worshipping God according to the dictates of conscience, is one of the richest blessings, and more than compensates for the trial of leaving my native land."
"Then you experienced the rigours of intolerance there, in some measure, did you?"
"Oh yes; my forefathers adhered to the Protestant faith through the reign of Mary, and were often in great danger from the bitter hatred of the Papists. I sometimes wonder that they didnot forfeit their lives in those days of persecution."
"I can relate to you one interesting fact," interrupted Uncle Benjamin, addressing himself to the guest. "Our ancestors possessed an English Bible, which they valued highly, of course; but there was danger of losing it, through the craftiness and hostility of the Papal powers. They held the Protestant Bible in absolute contempt. So, to conceal their Bible, at the same time they could enjoy the reading of it, they 'fastened it open with tapes under and within the cover of a joint-stool.' When our great-grandfather desired to read it to his family, according to his daily custom, 'he placed the joint-stool on his knees, and then turned over the leaves under the tapes.' While he was reading, one of the children was stationed at the door to give the alarm if he should see 'the apparitor coming, who was an officer of the spiritual court.' If the officer was seen approaching, the stool was immediately set down upon its feet, and the Bible in this way was concealed from view. For a considerable time they were obliged to read the Scriptures in this secret manner."
"But your father was not thus persecuted, was he?" inquired the friend.
"He was not persecuted to such a degree," answered Uncle Benjamin, "though he had some experience of this kind; and even brother Josiasand myself did not escape. Our father's family continued in the Church of England till about the end of Charles the Second's reign, when Josias and I joined the Nonconformists, and subjected ourselves to much contempt."
"And that is the reason I am in this country now," said Mr. Franklin. "We enjoyed few privileges, and frequently our religious meetings were disturbed, as they were forbidden by law. On this account some of my acquaintances resolved to remove to this country, and I decided to join them."
"How long ago was that?"
"It was about 1685, so that you will perceive I am one of the old settlers of America. I have been here long enough to witness many changes, and have no desire to return to my native country. My children can scarcely appreciate how much they enjoy, in comparison with the experience of their ancestors."
Benjamin had often heard the last remark, as a reminder of his obligations to be good and useful. Indeed, this whole tale of persecution he had listened to over and over, and had heard his Uncle Benjamin tell the story of the Bible and stool a number of times. He had come to the conclusion that he was faring better than his father did, although he did not think his own lot remarkably flattering.
This conversation at the dinner-table was aspecimen of what frequently occurred there in the way of remark. Mr. Franklin was gratified to have some intelligent friend at his table with him, that they might converse upon some useful topics, for the benefit of his children. When he had no guest at his table, he would call the attention of his children to some subject calculated to improve their minds, thinking, at the same time, that it would serve to draw off their attention from their humble fare. Children are apt to find fault with the food set before them, and perhaps the reader himself has more than once fretted over an unpalatable dish, and murmured for something else. Sometimes they beg for an article of food that is not on the table, declining to eat what is furnished for the family. It was not so at Mr. Franklin's table. He did not allow one of his children to complain of the food, however simple it might be; and his principal method of calling off their attention from the quality of their victuals was, as we have said, to converse upon some sensible theme. Their attention being directed to other things, they were seldom troubled about their food, and became almost indifferent to what was placed on the table. Benjamin said, in his manhood, on referring to this subject: "I am so unobservant of it, that to this day I can scarcely tell, a few hours after dinner, of what dishes it consisted. This has been a great convenience to me in travelling, where my companions have beensometimes very unhappy for the want of a suitable gratification of their more delicate, because better instructed tastes and appetites."
The guests of Mr. Franklin being usually intelligent, their conversation was instructive to the children, who acquired thereby many valuable items of information. The condition and prospects of the country, the oppressive measures of the English government, and the means of future prosperity, were among the topics which they heard discussed. Although it seems like a small, unimportant influence to bring to bear upon tender childhood, yet it left its mark upon their characters. They had more interest in the public questions of the day, and more general intelligence in consequence.
It is related of the Washburne family, of which four or five brothers occupy posts of political distinction in the United States, that in their early life their father's house was open to ministers, and was sometimes called "the minister's hotel." Mr. Washburne was a great friend of this class, and enjoyed their society much. At all times nearly, some one of the ministerial fraternity would be stopping there. His sons were thus brought into their society, and they listened to long discussions upon subjects of a scientific, political, and religious character, though public measures received a large share of attention. The boys acquired some valuable information bylistening to their remarks, and this created a desire to read and learn more; and so they were started off in a career that bids fair to reflect honour both upon themselves and their country. Their early advantages were few, but the conversation of educated men, upon important subjects, laid the foundation of their eminence in public life.
"You must give heed to little things," Mr. Franklin would frequently say to his sons, when they appeared to think that he was too particular about some things, such as behaviour at the table, "although nothing can really be considered small that is important. It is of far more consequence how you behave, than what you wear."
Sometimes, if the meal was unusually plain (and it was never extravagant), he would say, "Many people are too particular about their victuals. They destroy their health by eating too much and too rich food. Plain, simple, wholesome fare is all that nature requires, and young persons who are brought up in this way will be best off in the end."
Such kind of remarks frequently greeted the ears of young Benjamin; so that, as we have already seen, he grew up without caring much about the kind of food which he ate. Perhaps here is to be found the origin of those rigidly temperate principles in both eating and drinking, for which he was distinguished all through his life. In hismanhood, he wrote and talked upon the subject, and reduced his principles to practice. When he worked as a printer in England, his fellow-labourers were hard drinkers of strong beer, really believing that it was necessary to make them competent to endure fatigue. They were astonished to see a youth like Benjamin able to excel the smartest of them in the printing-office, while he drank only cold water, and they sneeringly called him "the Water-American."
The temperate habits which Benjamin formed in his youth were the more remarkable, because there were no temperance societies at that time, and it was generally supposed to be necessary to use intoxicating drinks. The evils of intemperance were not viewed with so much abhorrence as they are now, and the project of removing them from society was not entertained for a moment. Reformatory movements, in this respect, did not commence until nearly one hundred years after the time referred to. Yet Benjamin was fully persuaded in his youth that he ought to be temperate in all things. Probably there was not one of his associates who believed as he did on the subject. But he began early to think for himself, and this, with the excellent discipline of his wise and sagacious father, caused him to live in advance of those around him. It is not probable that he adopted the principle of total abstinence, and abstained entirely from theuse of intoxicating drinks; but he was not in the habit of using it as a daily, indispensable beverage.
That the practice of Benjamin's father, to allow no finding fault with the food at the table, and to lead the way in profitable conversation, was a good one, we think no one can deny. It was very different, however, from much of the table-talk that is heard in families. Conversation is frequently brisk and lively, but it often runs in this way:—
"I don't want any of that, I don't like it," exclaimed Henry. "I should think you might have a better dinner than this."
"What would you have if you could get it,—roast chicken and plum pudding?" inquires his mother, laughing, instead of reproving him for his error.
"I would have something I can eat. You know I don't like that, and never did."
"Well, it does boys good, sometimes, to eat what they don't like, especially such particular ones as you are," says his father.
"I shan't eat what I don't like, at any rate," continues Henry, "I shall go hungry first."
"There, now," added his father, "let me hear no more complaint about your food. You are scarcely ever suited with your victuals."
"May I have some ——?" calling for some article not on the table.
"If you will hold your tongue, and get it yourself, you can have it."
"And let me have some, too!" shouts James, a younger brother; "I don't like this, neither. May I have some, father?"
"And I too," said Jane, setting up her plea. "I must have some if they do."
In this way the table-talk proceeds, until fretting, scolding, crying, make up the sum total of the conversation, and family joys are embittered for the remainder of the day. Finding fault with food is the occasion of all the unhappiness.
Let the reader ask himself how much he has contributed to make conversation at the table proper and instructive. Has he thought more of the quality of his food than of anything else at the family board? If the review of the past reveals an error in this respect, let him learn a valuable lesson from this part of Benjamin Franklin's life. Though it may seem to be an unimportant matter, accept the testimony of Benjamin himself, and believe that it leaves its impress upon the future character.
"Youwill have to be a tallow-chandler, after all, when your brother gets married and goes away," said one of Benjamin's associates to him. He had heard that an older son of Mr. Franklin, who worked at the business with his father, was about to be married, and would remove to Rhode Island, and set up business for himself.
"Not I," replied Benjamin. "I shall work at it no longer than I am obliged to do."
"That may be, and you be obliged to work at it all your life. It will be, as your father says, till you are twenty-one years old."
"I know that; but my father does not desire to have me work in his shop against my wishes—only till I can find some other suitable employment. I would rather go to sea than anything."
"Are your parents not willing that you should go to sea?"
"No; they won't hear a word about it. I have talked with them till it is of no use. They seem to think that I should be shipwrecked, orthat something else would happen, to prevent my return."
"Then, if you can't go to sea, and you won't be a tallow-chandler, what can you do?"
"I hardly know myself; but almost anything is preferable to this greasy business. If people had no more light than the candles I should make, unless I was obliged, they would have a pretty dark time of it."
"I don't think it is a very disagreeable business," continued his companion. "It is quite easy work, certainly,—much more to my liking than sawing wood, and some other things I could name."
"It may be easy," replied Benjamin; "but it is dirty and simple. It requires no ingenuity to do all that I do. Almost any simpleton could cut wicks and fill candle-moulds. A fellow who can't do it couldn't tell which side his bread is buttered.Iprefer to do something that requires thought and ingenuity."
"There is something in that; but I guess it will take all your ingenuity to work yourself out of the tallow-chandler's business," responded his friend, rather dryly.
This conversation occurred one day in the shop, when Mr. Franklin was out. But just at this point he returned, and soon after the young visitor left. Benjamin was not acquainted with all his father's plans, and he had actually proceededfurther than he was aware of towards introducing him into another calling, as the following conversation with Mrs. F., on the previous evening, will show—
"I have resolved to find some other employment for Benjamin at once," said he; "as John is to be married so soon, he will be able to render me but little more assistance, and I must have some one to take his place."
"Are you satisfied," inquired Mrs. Franklin, "that Benjamin cannot be prevailed upon to take the place of John in your shop?"
"Oh, yes! he is so dissatisfied with the business, that I fear he will yet go to sea, unless his attention is soon turned to some other pursuit. Then, if he has a taste for any other honourable pursuit, I am willing that he should follow it. He would not accomplish much at candle-making with his present feelings."
"Have you anything in view for him to do?" asked Mrs. F.
"Not positively. I want to learn, if I can, whether he has taste and tact for any particular business. If he has, he will accomplish more in that. I don't believe in compelling a boy to follow a pursuit for which he has no relish, unless it is where nothing else offers."
"I think it is very necessary for boys to have a definite trade," said Mrs. F.; "they are more likely to succeed than those who are changingoften from one thing to another. 'A rolling stone gathers no moss,' is an old saying."
"That is the principal reason for my plan to introduce him into some other business soon. No one feels the importance of this more than I do, and I have pretty thoroughly imbued the mind of Benjamin with the same views. I think he has a desire to follow a definite calling, though now his taste seems to draw him towards a seafaring life."
Benjamin could have appreciated this last remark, if it had been uttered in his hearing. For he had listened to so much counsel upon this point, that he had no desire to run from one thing to another. And he continued to cherish this feeling. When he became a man, he wrote the following maxims, among the many of which he was the author:—
"He that hath a trade hath an estate.""He that hath a calling hath an office of honour."
"He that hath a trade hath an estate."
"He that hath a calling hath an office of honour."
Here he taught the same lesson that he received from the lips of his father and mother when he was young. A trade is the assurance of a livelihood, however hard the times may be. As a general rule, they who follow trades secure a living, when they who have none come to want and suffer.
But to return. Mr. Franklin rather surprised Benjamin by saying, after his associate left the shop, "I have decided on finding some otherbusiness for you immediately, if possible. I hope to find some opening for your learning an agreeable trade."
"Where shall you go to find one?" inquired Benjamin, scarcely expecting to have his wishes gratified so early. "Have you any particular trade in view?"
"No; I want to consult your tastes about the matter first; and I propose to go to-morrow with you, to see what we can find."
"And I go with you, did you say?"
"Yes; I wish to have you witness some things to which I shall call your attention, and decide for yourself what calling to follow."
"Where will you go?" inquired Benjamin, deeply interested in the plan, as well he might be.
"I shall not go out of town. Boston furnishes good examples of the different trades, and we shall not be under the necessity of extending our researches beyond its limits. So to-morrow I think we will start."
Benjamin was delighted with the prospect of being delivered soon from the tallow-chandler's shop, and he anticipated the morrow with considerable impatience. He rejoiced when the light of the next morning came in at his chamber window, and brighter and earlier he was up to await his father's bidding. Suitable preparations were made, and directly after breakfast they set forth upon their important errand. The first shop theyvisited was that of a joiner, where he saw the plane and hammer used to advantage. He had witnessed such labour before, and also seen other employments to which his father called his attention on that day; but he never observed these different trades with the object which now brought him to the shops. Having spent some time at the joiner's bench, he next went to a turner's place of business, where he saw different articles turned to order, in so rapid a manner as to surprise him. He was more interested in the turning-lathe, and its rapid movement, than he was in the use of joiner's tools. Passing through a prominent street, after leaving the turner's, they came to an unfinished structure, on which bricklayers were employed. Here another trade was on exhibition, and Benjamin's attention was called to it, and the various kind of labour which this class of toilers were obliged to perform were explained to him. In this way they visited other work-shops, until they had seen the practical operations of the different trades, and Benjamin understood what kind of toil each required. One of the last shops they visited was that of Samuel Franklin, a son of Uncle Benjamin, and, of course, a cousin of Benjamin. He learned the trade of cutler in London, and had just come over and established himself in Boston. The business of a cutler is to make knives and other cutting instruments, in some respects a very interesting and attractive trade.Benjamin was evidently more pleased with this kind of business than any he had seen on that day. Whether it grew out of boyish love for jack-knives, or was the consequence of closely observing the ingenious modes of manufacturing cutlery, we need not say. It is enough to know that he was partially captivated by the trade, and before they reached home his father was well satisfied which trade he would select, though he had not questioned him at all on this point.
"What trade have you decided to follow, Benjamin?" inquired his mother, as they sat at the tea-table; and she let fall a most loving smile upon her boy.
"I think any of them are better than making candles," he replied, "although I like Samuel's trade the best of all."
"That is just what I expected," said his father, laughingly. "I saw that you fell in love with his work, and I think myself that it is a very pleasant and promising business."
"So you will decide to take that trade, will you?" said his mother.
"In preference to all the trades I have seen yet," said Benjamin.
"He is after a pocket knife," interrupted John, who sat at the table, speaking in a vein of pleasantry. "I see clearly what has takenhiseye."
"I suppose John will never care more about aknife, now he is going to have a wife," added Mr. Franklin, addressing his remark to Benjamin, in order to help him out of the predicament into which John's remark had placed him. "But did you not like the brazier's business?"
"Yes, sir; I liked it very well, but not so well as I do the cutler's trade. If I can have my choice I shall choose that, and will begin to-morrow, if you are willing."
"I shall make no objection, if that is your decision," replied his father. "I want you should weigh the matter carefully, however, and not be hasty in choosing."
"It remains to be seen whether Samuel will take him as an apprentice," said Mrs. Franklin. "Perhaps he may not want one. He has just commenced, and cannot be doing much business yet."
"Father can easily learn that," said Benjamin. "He can see cousin Samuel to-morrow, and decide the matter at once."
"I will see him to-morrow," said his father, "and arrange for you to go into his shop if possible."
On the following day, Mr. Franklin called upon Samuel, his nephew, and made known the wishes of Benjamin. Although it was a new and unexpected subject, yet he received it favourably, and finally decided that Benjamin might come immediately, and try his hand at this new business. Hethought it was best for both parties that no definite agreement or bargain should be made until Benjamin had tried the work, to which his father assented.
Accordingly, Benjamin entered upon his new trade immediately, and was much pleased with it. It was so different from the work of candle-making, and required so much more thought and ingenuity, that he was prepared to pronounce it "first rate." It was with a light and cheerful heart that he went to each day's task.
Mr. Franklin acted wisely in consulting the inclination of his son about a trade. A boy may have more qualifications for one pursuit than another; and this will generally be made manifest in the bent of his mind. He will exhibit a degree of tact for one calling, while he may be a blunderer at almost anything else. This characteristic is more remarkable with some boys than with others, and a disregard of it often entails unhappiness upon a whole family. When Handel, the distinguished musician, was a child, his father strictly forbade his listening to a note of music, or indulging his talent for the art. Although he exhibited remarkable musical abilities, his father paid no regard to the fact, but was determined to rear him to the profession of law. He ordered all musical instruments to be carried out of the house, and made it as difficult as possible for his son to gratify his taste for sweet sounds. But through the assistanceof a servant, the boy obtained an instrument, which he kept in the garret; and there, when opportunity offered, with the strings of his "clavichord" so covered with pieces of cloth as to deaden the sound, he practised music until he became a proficient in harmony. It was not, however, until his father took him on a visit to see an elder brother, who was in the family of the Prince of Saxe-Weisenfels, that he became acquainted with the progress he had made in his loved art. While there he happened to go into the royal chapel just as the service was closing, when he glided up to the organ, unperceived, and commenced playing. The Prince was on the point of retiring; but he stopped, and inquired who was playing. He was told that it was young Handel, only seven years old; whereupon the Prince ordered the boy and his father to be summoned into his presence. The result of the interview was, that the Prince arranged for Handel to be placed for tuition under the organist of Halle Cathedral, where he soon became renowned. Posterity has not failed to condemn the unwise discipline of his father, in disregarding his inclination for a given pursuit.
When Sir Joshua Reynolds was a boy, he was inclined to embrace every opportunity to gratify his taste for drawing. His father had no sympathy with him in thus spending his time, and he sought to repress his aspirations of this kind. One day he discovered that Joshua had disfigured his exercise-bookwith a number of well-executed drawings; but, instead of encouraging his talents in this line, he sharply rebuked him, and wrote underneath the sketches, "Done by Joshua out of pure idleness." His father was anxious that he should become a physician, and therefore he looked with no favour upon his propensity for drawing. But for the irrepressible power of genius, his unwise father would have deprived the world of one of its most gifted painters.
The father of John Smeaton pursued a like censurable course in the discipline of his son. He frowned upon those early developments of genius that foreshadowed the renowned engineer that he became. When only four or five years of age, he was often seen dividing circles and squares. He rejected the toys that other children used, preferring tools with which he could construct machines. When only six or seven years of age, he was discovered on the roof of the barn, much to the consternation of his father and mother, fixing up a windmill of his own construction. Soon afterwards having seen some men repairing a pump, he procured from them a piece of bored pipe, he made one of his own, with which he could raise water. At fourteen years of age he made an engine to turn rose-work, and many were his presents of boxes of wood and ivory turned by himself. He made all his tools for working wood, ivory, and metals. He also invented a lathe forcutting a perpetual screw in brass. And yet his father was determined to make a lawyer of him, and thus spoil the mechanic. He actually disregarded all these proofs of mechanical genius, and sent him to London to be educated for the bar; and it was not until his father began to see the impossibility of making a good attorney of him, that he consented to let him follow the profession which the bent of his genius plainly marked out.
The father of Benjamin Franklin acted more wisely in the first place, and resolved to educate him in that pursuit for which nature had best qualified him.