The life of Benjamin Franklin : with many choice anecdotes and admirable sayings of the great man, never before published by any of his biographers

Front matter

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Chapter I

DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, president of tub

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY ; FELLOW OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH, LONDON AND PARIS; GOVERNOR OF THE STATE OF PENNSYLVANIA; AND MINISTER PLENIPOTEN¬ TIARY FROM THE UNITED STATES TO THE COURT OF FRANCE,

was the son of an obscure tallow-chandler and soap-boiler, of Boston, where he was born on the 17th day of January, 1706.

Some men carry letters of recommendation in their looks, and some in their names. ’Tis the lot but of few to inherit both of these advantages. The hero of this work was one of that favoured number. As to his physiognomy, there was in it such an air of wisdom and philanthropy, and con¬ sequently such an expression of majesty and sweetness, as charms, even in the commonest pictures of him. And for Iiis name, every one acquainted with the old English history, must know, that Franklin stands for what we now mean by 44 Gentleman,” or “ clever fellow.”

In the days of Auld Lang Syne, their neighbours from the continent made a descent 44 on the fast anchored isle,” and compelled the hardy, red-ochred natives to buckle to their yoke. Among the victors were some regiments of Franks, who distinguished themselves by their valor, and still more by their politeness to the vanquished, and espe¬ cially to the females. By this amiable gallantry the Franks acquired such glory among the brave islanders, that when¬ ever any of their own people achieved any thing uncom¬ monly handsome, he was called, by way of compliment, a Franklin, i. e. a little Frank. As the living flame does not more naturally tend upwards than does every virtue to exalt its possessors, these little Franks were soon promoted

be great men, such as justices of the peace, knights of the shire, and other such names of high renown. Hence thosi pretty lines of the old poet Chaucer —

“ This worthy Franklin wore a purse of silk Fix’d to his girdle, pure as morning milk ;

Knight of the shire; tiist justice of th’ assize,

To help the poor, the doubtful to advise.

In all employments, gen’rous just he prov’d ;

Renown’d for courtesy ; by all belov’d.”

But though*, according to Dr. Franklin’s own account of nis family, whose pedigree he looked into with great dili¬ gence while he was in England, it appears that they were all of the “ well born or gentlemen in the best sense of the word; yet they did not deem it beneath them to continue the same useful courses which had at first conferred their titles. On the contrary, the ductor owns, and indeed glories in it, that for three hundred years the eldest son, or heir apparent in this family of old British gentlemen, \vras invariably brought up a blacksmith. Moreover, it appears from the same indubitable authority, that the blacksmith succession was most religiously continued in the family down to the days of the doctor’s father. How it has gone on since that time I have never heard; but considering the salutary effects of such a fashion on the prosperity of a young republic, it were most devoutly to be wished that it is kept up: and that the family of one of the greatest men who ever lived in this or any other country, still display in their coat of arms, not the barren gules and garters of European folly, but those better ensigns of American wisdom*— the sledge-hammer and anvil.

Chapter II

‘ Were I so tall to reach the pole,

And grasp the ocean in my span,

I must be measur’d by my soul;

For ’tis the MIND that makes the man.”

From the best accounts which I have been able to pick up, it would appear that a passion for learning had a long run in the family of the Franklins. Of the doctor’s three uncles, the elder, whose name was Thomas, though con scientiously brought up a blacksmith, and subsisting his family by the din and sweat of his anvil, was still a^great reader. Instead of wasting his leisure hours, as too many of the trade do, in tippling and tobacco, he acquired enough

DR. FRANKLIN.

of the law to render himself a very useful and leading man among the people of Northampton, where his forefathers had lived in great comfort for three hundred years, on thirty acres of land.

His uncle Benjamin, too, another old English gentleman of the right stamp, though a very hard-working man at the silk-dying trade, was equally devoted to the pleasures of the mind. He made it a rule whenever he lighted on a copy of verses that pleased him, to transcribe them into a large blank book which he kept for the purpose. In this way he collected two quarto volumes of poems, written in short hand of his own inventing. And, being a man of great piety, and fond of attending the best preachers, whose ser¬ mons he always took down, he collected in the course of his life, eight volumes of sermons in folio, besides near thirty in quarto and octavo, and all in the aforesaid shorthand! x\stonishing proof, what a banquet of elegant pleasures even a poor mechanic may enjoy, who begins early to read and think ! JTis true, he was a long time about it. His piety afforded him a constant cheerfulness. And deriving from the same source a regular temperance, he attained to a great age. In his seventy-third year, still fresh and strong, he left his native country, and came over to America, to see his younger brother Josias, between whom and himself there nad always subsisted a more than ordinary friendship. On his arrival in Boston, he was received with unbounded joy by Josias, who pressed him to spend the residue of his days in his family. To this proposition the old gentleman readily consented; and the more so as he was then a widower, and his children, all married oft’, had left him. He had the honor to give his name, and to stand godfather to our little nero, for whom, on account of his vivacity and fondness for learning, he conceived an extraordinary affection. And Ben always took a great delight in talking of this uncle. Nor was it to be wondered at; for he was an old man who wore his religion very much to win young people — a pleasant countenance — a sweet speech — and a fund of anecdotes always entertaining, and generally carrying some good moral in the tail of them. His grandfather before him must have been a man of rare humour, as appears from a world of droll stories which uncle Benjamin used to tell after him, and which his New England descendants to this day are wont to repeat with great glee. I must let the reader hear one oi two of them. They will amuse him, by showing what strange things were done in days of yore by kings and priests ui the land of our venerable forefathers.

It was his grandfather’s fortune to live in the reign of Queen Mary, whom her friends called holy Mary, but her enemies bloody Mary. In the grand struggle for power be¬ tween those humble followers of the cross, the catholics and the protestants, the former gained the victory, for which ‘Te Deums’ in abundance were sung throughout the land. And having been sadly rib-roasted by the protestants when in power, they determined, like good Christians, now that the tables were turned, to try on them the virtues of fire and faggot. The Franklin family having ever been sturdy pro¬ testants, began now to be in great tribulation. u What shall we do to save our Bible?” was the question. After serious consultation in a family caucus, it was resolved to hide it in the close-stool ; which was accordingly done, by fastening it, open, on the under side of the lid by twine threads drawn strongly across the leaves. When the grand¬ father read to the family, he turned up the aforesaid lid on his knees, passing the leaves of his Bible, as he read, from one side to the other. One of the children was carefully stationed at the door, to give notice if he saw the priest, or any of his frowning tribe, draw near. In that event, the lid with the Bible lashed beneath it, was instantly clapped down again on its old place.

These things may appear strange to us, who live under a wise republic, which will not suffer the black gowns of one church to persecute those of another. But they were com¬ mon in those dark and dismal days, when the clergy thought more of creeds than of Christ, and of learning Latin than of learning love. Queen Mary was one of this gnostic ge¬ neration, ^who place their religion in the head , though Christ places it m the heart,) and finding it much easier to her unloving spirit, to burn human beings called heretics, than to mortify her own lust of popularity, she suffered her catho¬ lic to fly upon and worry her protestant subjects at a shame¬ ful rate. Good old uncle Benjamin use 4 to divert his friends with another story, which happened i the family of his own aunt, who kept an inn at Eaton, Nortnamptonshire.

A most violent priest, of the name of Asquith, who thought, like Saul, that he should be doing “ God service ” by killing the heretics, had obtained letters patent from queen Mary against those people in the county of War¬ wick. On his way he called to dine at Eaton, where he was

Ull. FRANKLIN.

quickly waited on by the mayor, a strong catholic, to ask how the good ivork went on. Asquith, leaping to his sad¬ dle-bags, drew forth a little box, that contained his commis¬ sion, which lie flourished before the mayor, exclaiming with high glee, 4 4 Jiyt ! there’s that that will scorch the rogues l” Old Mrs. Franklin, under the rose a sturdy protestant, over¬ hearing this, was exceedingly troubled; and watching her opportunity when the priest had stepped out with the mayor, slipped the commission out of the box, and put in its place a pack of cards, wrapped in the same paper. The priest returning in haste, and suspecting no trick, huddled up his box, and posted off for Coventry. A grand council of the saints was speedily convoked -to meet him. He arose, and having with great vehemence delivered a set speech against the heretics, threw his commission on the table for the secre¬ tary to read aloud. With the eyes of the whole council on nim, the eager^ secretary opened the package, when in place of the flaming commission, behold a pack of cards with the knave of clubs turned uppermost ! A sudden stupefaction seized the spectators. In silence they stared at the priest and stared at one another. Some looking as though they suspected treachery: others as dreading a judgment in the case. Soon as the dumb-founded priest could recover speech, he swore by the Holy Mary, that he once had a commission; that he had received it from the queen’s own hand. And lie also swore that he would get another com¬ mission. Accordingly he hurried back to London, and having procured another, set oft’ again for Coventry. But alas! before he got down, poor queen Mary had turned the cor ner, and the protestants under Elizabeth got the rule again. Having nothing now to dread, our quizzing old hostess, Mrs. Franklin, came out with the knavish trick she had played the priest, which so pleased the protestants of Coventry that they presented her a piece of plate, that cost fifty pounds sterling, equal, as money now goes, to a thousand dollars.

From an affair which soon after this took place there, it appears that Coventry, however famous for saints, had no great cause to brag of her poets. — When queen Elizabeth, to gratify her subjects, made the tour of her island, she passed through Coventry. The mayor, aldermen, and company hearing of her approach, went out in great state to meet her. The queen being notified that they wished to address her, made a full stop right opposite to a stage erected for the purpose, and covered with embroidered cloth, from which a ready orator, after much bowing and arms full extended, made this wondrous speech — 44 We men of Coventry are glad to see your royal highness — Lord how fair you be!55

To this the maiden queen, equal famed for fat and fun, rising in her carriage, and waving her lily white hand, made this prompt reply — 44 Our royal highness is glad to see you men of Coventry — Lord what Fools you be!”

Chapter III

Our hero , little Ben , coming on the carpet — Put to school very young — Learns prodigiously — Taken home and set to candle-making — Curious capers , all proclaiming 4 4 the Achilles in petticoats. ”

•

Dr. Franklin’s father married early in his own country, and would probably have lived and died there, but for the persecutions against his friends the Presbyterians, which so disgusted him, that he came over to New England, and set¬ tled in Boston about the year 1682. He brought with him his English wife and three children. By the same wife he had four children more in America; and ten others after¬ wards by an American wife. The doctor speaks with plea¬ sure of having seen thirteen sitting together very lovingly at his father’s table, and all married. Our little hero, who was the fifteenth child, and last of the sons, was born at Boston the 17th day of January, 1706, old style.

That famous Italian proverb, 44 The Devil tempts every man , but the Idler tempts the Devil ,” was a favourite canto with wise old Josias; for which reason, soon as their little lips could well lisp letters and syllables, he had them all to school.

Nor was this the only instance with regard to them, wherein good Josias 44 sham’d the Devil ;” for as soon as their education was finished, they were put to useful trades. Thus no leisure was allowed for bad company and habits. Tuttle Ben, neatly clad and comb’d, was pack’d off to school with the rest; and as would seem, at a very early age, for he says himself that, 44 he could not recollect any time in his life when he did not know how to read,” whence we may infer that he hardly ever knew any thing more of childhood than its innocency and playfulness. At the age of eight, he

DR. FRANKLIN.

1 J

f^as sent to a grammar school, where he made such a figure in learning, that his good old father set him down at once for the church, and used constantly to call him his u little chap - tain.” He was confirmed in this design, not only by the ex¬ traordinary readiness with which he learned, but also by the praises of his friends, who all agreed that he woul4 certainly one day or other become a mighty scholar. His uncle Ben¬ jamin too, greatly approved the idea of making a preacher of him: and by way of encouragement, promised to him all his volumes of sermons, written, as before said, in his own short hand.

This his rapid progress in learning he ascribed very much to an amiable teacher who used gentle means only, to en¬ courage his scholars, and make them fond of their books.

But in the midst of this gay career in his learning, when in the course of the first year only, he had risen from the middle of his class to the head of it; thence to the class im¬ mediately above it; and was rapidly overtaking the third class, he was taken from school! His father having a large family, with but a small income, and thinking himself unable consistently with what he owed the rest of his children, to give him a collegiate education, took Ben home to assist him in Ins own humble occupation, which was that of a soap-boiler and tallow-chandler; a trade he had taken up of his own head after settling in Boston; his original one of a dyer being in too little request to maintain his family.

I have never heard how Ben took this sudden reverse in his prospects. No doubt it put his little stock of philosophy to the stretch. To have seen himself, one day, on the high road to literary fame, flying from class to class, the admira¬ tion and envy of a numerous school; and the next day, to have found himself in a filthy soap-shop; clad in a greasy apron, twisting cotton wicks! — and in place of snuffing the sacred lamps of the Muses, to be bending over pots of fetid tallow, dipping and moulding candles for the dirty cook wenches! Oh, it must have seem’d a sad falling off! Indeed, it ap¬ pears from his own account that he was so disgusted with it that he had serious thoughts of going to sea. But his fa¬ ther objecting to it, and Ben having virtue enough to be du¬ tiful, the notion was given up for that time. But the am bition which had made him the first at his school, and which now would have hurried him to sea, was not to be extin¬ guished. Though diverted from its favourite course, it still burned for distinction, and rendered him the leader of the juvenile band in every enterprize where danger was to b<* confronted, or glory to be won. In the neighbouring mill¬ pond he was the foremost to lead the boys to plunge and swim; thus teaching them an early mastery over that dan¬ gerous element. And when the ticklish mill-boat was launch¬ ing from the shore laden with his timid playmates, the paddie that served as rudder, was always put into his hands, as the fittest to steer her course over the dark waters of the pond.

This ascendancy which nature had given him over the companions of his youth, was not always so well used as it might have been. He honestly confesses that, once at least, he made such an unlucky use of it as drew them into a scrape that cost them dear. Their favourite fishing shore on that pond was, it seems, very miry. To remedy so great an inconvenience he proposed to the boys to make a wharf. Their assent was quickly obtained: but what shall we make it of? was the question. Ben pointed their attention to a heap of stones, hard by, of which certain honest ma¬ sons were building a house. The proposition was hailed by the boys, as a grand discovery; and soon as night had spread her dark curtains around them, they fell to work with the activity of young beavers, and by midnight had completed their wharf. The next morning the masons came to work, but, behold ! not a stone was to be found ! The young rogues, however, detected by the track of their feet in the mud, were quickly summoned before their parents, who not being so partial to Ben as they had been, chastised their folly with a severe flogging. Good old Josias pursued a different course with his son. To deter him from such an act in fu¬ ture, he endeavoured to reason him into a sense of its im¬ morality. Ben, on the other hand, just fresh and confident from his school, took the field of argument against his fa¬ ther, and smartly attempted to defend what he had done, on the principle of its utility. But the old gentleman, who was a great adept in moral philosophy, calmly observed to him, that if one boy were to make use of this plea to take away his fellow’s goods, another might; and thus contests would arise, filling the world with blood and murder without end. Convinced, in this simple way, of the fatal consequences of “ doing evil that good may come , ” Ben let drop the weapons of his rebellion, and candidly agreed with his father that what was not strictly honest could never be truly useful. This dis¬ covery he made at the tender age of nine. Some never make 't in the course of their lives. The grand angler, Satan,

DR. FRANKLIN.

throws out. his bait of immediate gain ; and they, like silly Jacks, snap af it at once; and in the moment of running off, fancy they have got a delicous morsel. But alas ! the fatal hook soon convinces them of their mistake, though sometimes too late. . And then the lamentation of the prophet serves as the epilogue of their tragedy — 46 9Twas honey in the mouthy but gall in the bowels .”

Chapter IV. *

Picture of a wise father — To which is added a famous rt ceipt for health and long life.

The reader must already have discovered that Ben wax. uncommonly blest in a father. Indeed from the portrait ol him drawn by this grateful son, full fifty years afterwards, ' lie must have been an enviable old man.

As to his person, though that is but of minor consideration in a rational creature — 1 say, as to his person, it was of the right standard, i. e. medium size and finely formed — his complexion fair and ruddy — black, intelligent eyes — and an air uncommonly graceful and spirited. In respect of mind , which is the true jewel of our nature, he was a man of the purest piety and morals, and consequently cheerful and amiable in a high degree. Added to this, lie possessed a considerable taste for the fine arts, particularly drawing and music; and having a voice remarkably sonorous and sweet, whenever he sung a hymn accompanied with his vio¬ lin, which he usually did at the close of his day’s labours, it was delightful to hear him. He possessed also an extra¬ ordinary sagacity in things relating both to public and pri¬ vate life, insomuch that not only individuals were constant¬ ly consulting him about their affairs, and calling him in as an arbiter in their disputes; but even the leading men of Bos¬ ton would often come and ask his advice in their most im¬ portant concerns, as well of the town as of the church.

For his slender means he was a man of extraordinary hos¬ pitality, which caused his friends to wonder how he made out to entertain so many. But whenever this was mentioned to him, he used to laugh and say, that the world was good matured and gave him credit for much more than he deserved; for that, in fact, others entertained ten times as many as he did. By this, ’tis thought he alluded to the os tentatious practice common with some, of pointing theii hungry visitant to their grand buildings, and boasting how many thousands this or that bauble cost; as if their ridicu¬ lous vanity would pass with them for a good dinner. For his part, he said, he preferred setting before his visitors a plenty of wholesome fare, with a hearty welcome. Though to do this he was fain to work hard, and content himself with a small house and plain furniture. But it was always nis opinion that a little laid out in this way, went farther both with God and man too, than great treasures lavished on pride and ostentation.

But though he delighted in hospitality as a great virtue, yet he always made choice of such friends at his table as were fond of rational conversation. And he took great care to introduce such topics as wrould, in a pleasant manner, lead to ideas useful to his family, both iii temporal and eternal things. As to the dishes that were served up, he never talked of them; never discussed whether they were well or ill dressed; of a good or bad flavour, high seasoned or otherwise.

For this manly kind of education at his table, Dr. Frank¬ lin always spoke as under great obligations to his father’s judgment and taste. Thus accustomed, from infancy, to a generous inattention to the palate, he became so perfectly indifferent about what was set before him, that he hardly ever remembered, ten minutes after dinner, what he had dined on. In travelling, particularly, he found his account in this. For while those who had been more nice in their diet could enjoy nothing they met with; this one growling over the daintiest breakfast of new laid eggs and toast floated in butter, because his coffee was not half strong enough ! — that wondering what people can mean by serving up a round of beef when they have no mustard! — and a third cursing like a trooper, though the finest rock-fish or sheep's-head be smoking on the table — because there is no walnut pickle or ketchup ! He for his part, happily engaged in a pleasanl train of thinking or conversation, never attended to such trifles, but dined heartily on whatever was set before him. In short, there is no greater kindness that a young man can do himself than to learn the art of feasting on fish, flesh, 01 fowl as they come, without ever troubling his head about any other sauce than what the rich hand of nature has given*

DR. FRANKLIN.

»et him but bring to these dishes that good appetite which always springs from exercise and cheerfulness, and he will be an epicure indeed.

He would often repeat in the company of young people, the following anecdote which he had picked up some where or other in his extensive reading. 44 A wealthy citizen of Athens, who had nearly ruined his constitution by gluttony and sloth, was advised by Hippocrates to visit a certain medicinal spring in Sparta; not that Hippocrates believed that spring to be better than some nearer home; but exercise was the object — 44 Visit the springs of Sparta said thfc great physician. As the young debauchee, pale and bloated, travelled among the simple and hardy Spartans, he called one day at the house of a countryman on the road to gev something to eat. A young woman was just serving up din¬ ner — a nice barn-door fowl boiled with a piece of fat bacon. “You have got rather a plain dinner there madam,” growleO the Athenian. 44 Yes, sir,” replied the young woman blush¬ ing, 66 but my husband will be here directly, and he always brings the sauce with him.” Presently the young husband stepped in, and after welcoming his guest, invited him to dinner. 44 1 can’t dream of dining, sir, without sauce,” said the Athenian, 44 and your wife promised you would bring it.” 44 O, sir, my wife is a wit,” cried the Spartan; 44 she only meant the good appetite which I always bring with me from the barn , tv here I have been threshing . ”

And here I beg leave to wind up this chapter with the following beautiful lines from Dryden, which I trust my young reader will commit to memory. They may save him many a sick stomach and headach, besides many a good dollar in doctor’s fees.

“The first physicians by debauch were made;

Excess began and sloth sustains the trade.

By chace, our long liv’d fathers earn’d their bread,'

Toil strung their nerves and purified their blood:

But we, their sons, a pamper’d race of men,

Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten Better hunt in fields for health unbought,

Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.

The wise for health on exercise depend :

God never made his works for man to mend.'*

Chapter V

Ben continued with his father, assisting him in his humble toils, till his twelfth year; and had he possessed a mind less active might have remained a candle-maker all the days of his life. But born to diffuse a light beyond that of tallow or spermaceti, he could never reconcile himself to this in¬ ferior employment, and in spite of his wishes to conceal it from his father, discontent would still lower on his brow, and the half-suppressed sigh steal in secret from his bosom.

With equal grief his father beheld the deep-seated dis¬ quietude of his son. He loved all his children; but he loved this young one above all the rest. Ben was the child of his old age. The smile that dimpled his tender cheeks reminded him of his mother when he first saw her, lovely in the rosy freshness of youth. And then his intellect was so far beyond his years; his questions so shrewd; so strong in reasoning; so witty in remark, that his father would often forget his violin of nights for the higher pleasure of holding an argument with him. This was a «reat trial to his sisters, who would often intreat their mother to make Ben hold his tongue, that their father might take down his fiddle, and play and sing hymns with them: for they took after him in his passion for music, and sung divinely. No wonder that such a child should be dear to such a father. Indeed old Josias’ affection for Ben was so intimately interwoven with every fibre of his heart, that he could not bear the idea of separation from him; and various were the stratagems which he employed to keep this dear child at home. One while, to frighten his youthful fancy from the sea, for that was the old man’s dread, he would paint the horrors of the watery world, where the maddening bil¬ lows, lashed into mountains by the storm, would lift the trembling ship to the skies; then hurl her down, headlong plunging into the yawning gulphs, never to rise again. At an¬ other time he would describe the wearisomeness of beating the gloomy w'ave for joyless months, pent up in a small ship, with no prospects but barren sea and skies — no smells but tar and bilge water — no society but men of uncultivated minds, and their constant conversation nothing but ribaldry and oaths. And then again he would take him to visit the masons, coopers, joiners, and other mechanics, at work: in hopes that his genius might be caught, and a stop nut to his passion for