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From Boyhood to Manhood

W >> William M. Thayer >> From Boyhood to Manhood

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"While Rome was in the Height of its glory for Arms, Learning, and
Politeness, there were _six hundred different Religions_ professed and
allowed therein. And this groat Variety does not appear to have had
the least Effect on the Peace of the State, or on the Temper of Men;
but, on the contrary, a very good Effect, for there is an entire
Silence of History, about the Actions of those ancient Professors,
who, it seems, lived so quietly together as to furnish no Materials
for an _Ecclesiastical History_, such as Christians have given an
Occasion for, which a Reverend Divine thus describes: '_Ecclesiastical
History_' says he, 'is chiefly spent in reciting the wild Opinions of
Hereticks (that is, in belying Hereticks); the Contentions between
Emperors and Popes; the idle and superstitious Canons, and ridiculous
Decrees and Constitutions of packed Councils; their Debates about
frivolous Matters, and playing the Fool with Religion; the
Consultations of Synods about augmenting the Revenues of the Clergy,
and establishing their Pride and Grandure; the impostures of Monks and
Fryars; the Schisms and Factions of the Church; the Tyranny, Cruelty,
and Impiety of the Clergy; insomuch that the excellent _Grotius_ says,
'_He that reads Ecclesiastical history_ reads nothing but the
_Roguery and Folly of Bishops and Churchmen_.'"

"Matthew says, Jesus _came and dwelt at_ Nazareth _that it might_ be
fulfilled, which was spoken by the Prophet saying, 'He shall be called
a Nazarene.' Which Citation does not expressly occur in any Place of
the Old Testament, and therefore cannot be literally fulfilled."

"In fine, the Prophecies, cited from the Old Testament by the Authors
of the New, do plainly relate, in their obvious and primary Sense, to
other Matters than those which they are produced to prove."

"Well," said John, interrupting, "I think that will do for my
namesake. There is nothing very wonderful to me about that. True
enough, I guess, but nothing remarkable. But how about Shaftesbury?
What has he written?"

"He disproves the miracles of the New Testament. His 'Inquiry
Concerning Virtue' and his 'Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour'
are interesting as novels to me."

"I prefer the novels," interrupted John.

"Perhaps you do; but Shaftesbury is one of the most ingenious and
pleasant writers known. He does not discard religion; he assails
spurious religion only."

"And spurious religion is all religion that he do not believe in, I
suppose," suggested John, "come from above or below? When a man does
not believe the Bible he tries to show it up; and so when a man do not
believe any religion but his own, he tries to explode all others."

"Read Shaftesbury, and judge for yourself," added Benjamin. "You will
fall in love with him, as I have. He is one of the most graceful and
fascinating writers I know of."

"Perhaps I will read him sometime," replied John. "I must go now; and
when I am ready for it I will call for the book."

We have not time to follow the companionship of these two youth. It
was intimate, and Benjamin succeeded in making a Shaftesbury disciple
of John, so that one was about as much of an unbeliever as the other.
In his "Autobiography," Benjamin confesses that he "_was made a
doubter by reading Shaftesbury and Collins_," although he began to
dissent from his father, as we have already seen, in his boyhood, when
he read the religious tracts of Boyle.

We know that Benjamin was charged with being an atheist by his
brother. True, it was when his brother was angry because he left him;
still, he would not have been likely to make such a statement to
others without some foundation for it. Franklin himself gives one
reason for his leaving Boston (in his "Autobiography"): "My indiscreet
disputations about religion began to make me pointed at with horror by
good people as an infidel and atheist."

Another admission in his "Autobiography" reflects upon this subject:

"The time I allotted for writing exercises and for reading, was at
night, or before work began in the morning, _or on Sundays_, when I
contrived to be in the printing house, avoiding as much as I could the
constant attendance upon public worship, which my father used to exact
of me when I was under his care, and which I still continued to
consider a duty, though I could not afford time to practise it."

There is an intimate connection between loose religious views and the
non-observance of the Sabbath. Skeptics are not friendly to the
Sabbath as a class. It is an institution they inveigh against with
much spirit. No doubt the change going on in Benjamin's opinions had
much to do with his ceasing to attend public worship.

Fifteen years afterwards, when Benjamin was fully established in
business in Philadelphia, his parents became very anxious about his
skeptical ideas, and wrote to him about it. Their letter is not
preserved, but we have his in reply, which, while it confirms the
fact, shows him to be more reverent and thoughtful than they feared.
It is, also, evidence of a filial regard for his father and mother
that is always as beautiful as it is honorable. We furnish the letter
below:

"PHILADELPHIA, April 13, 1738.

"_Honored Father_,--I have your favors of the 21st of March, in
which you both seem concerned lest I have imbibed some erroneous
opinions. Doubtless I have my share, and when the natural weakness
and imperfection of human understanding is considered, the
unavoidable influence of education, custom, books, and company,
upon our ways of thinking, I imagine a man must have a good deal of
vanity who believes, and a good deal of boldness who affirms, that
all the doctrines he holds are true, and all he rejects are false.
And, perhaps, the same may be justly said of every sect, church,
and society of men, when they assume to themselves that
infallibility which they deny to the pope and councils.

"I think opinions should be judged of by their influences and
effects; and if man holds none that tend to make him less virtuous
or more vicious, it may be concluded he holds none that are
dangerous,--which, I hope, is the case with me.

"I am sorry you should have any uneasiness on my account, and, if
it were a thing possible for one to alter his opinions in order to
please another's, I know none whom I ought more willingly to oblige
in that respect than yourselves. But, since it is no more in a
man's power to _think_ than to _look_ like another, methinks all
that should be expected from me is to keep my mind open to
conviction; to hear patiently, and examine attentively, whatever is
offered me for that end; and, if after all I continue in the same
errors, I believe your usual charity will induce you rather to pity
and excuse than blame me; in the mean time your care and concern
for me is what I am very thankful for.

"My mother grieves that one of her sons is an Arian, another an
Arminian; what an Arminian or an Arian is, I can not say that I
very well know. The truth is, I make such distinctions very little
my study. I think vital religion has always suffered when orthodoxy
is more regarded than virtue; and the Scriptures assure me that at
the last day we shall not be examined what we _thought_, but what
we _did_; and our recommendation will not be that we said, _Lord!
Lord_! but that we did good to our fellow-creatures. See Matt. xx.

"As to the free masons, I know no way of giving my mother a better
account of them than she seems to have at present (since it is not
allowed that women should be admitted into that secret society).
She has, I must confess, on that account, some reason to be
displeased with it; but, for any thing else, I must entreat her to
suspend her judgment till she is better informed, unless she will
believe me when I assure her that they are in general a very
harmless sort of people, and have no principles or practices that
are inconsistent with religion and good manners.

"B. FRANKLIN."

His sister also, later on, in her great anxiety for his spiritual
welfare, wrote to him, and he replied as follows:

"PHILADELPHIA, July 28, 1743.

"_Dearest Sister Jenny_,--I took your admonition very kindly, and
was far from being offended at you for it. If I say any thing about
it to you, 't is only to rectify some wrong opinions you seem to
have entertained of me; and this I do only because they give you
some uneasiness, which I am unwilling to be the occasion of. You
express yourself as if you thought I was against worshipping of
God, and doubt that good works would merit heaven; which are both
fancies of your own, I think, without foundation. I am so far from
thinking that God is not to be worshipped, that I have composed and
wrote a whole book of devotions for my own use; and I imagine there
are few if any in the world so weak as to imagine that the little
good we can do here can merit so vast a reward hereafter.

"There are some things in your New England doctrine and worship
which I do not agree with; but I do not therefore condemn them, or
desire to shake your belief or practice of them. We may dislike
things that are nevertheless right in themselves; I would only have
you make me the same allowance, and have a better opinion both of
morality and your brother. Read the pages of Mr. Edwards' late
book, entitled, 'Some Thoughts concerning the present Revival of
Religion in New England,' from 367 to 375, and, when you judge of
others, if you can perceive the fruit to be good, do not terrify
yourself that the tree may be evil; be assured it is not so, for
you know who has said, 'Men do not gather grapes off thorns, and
figs off thistles.'

"I have not time to add, but that I shall always be your
affectionate brother,

"B. FRANKLIN.

"P.S. It was not kind in you, when your sister commended good
works, to suppose she intended it a reproach to you. 'T was very
far from her thoughts."

The sequel will show much more concerning the skepticism of Franklin;
and that the time came when he saw the folly of such unbelief, and
gave his adherence to the Christian religion. At the same time, he
learned from experience the danger of reading infidel publications,
and warned the young against following his example. Indeed, there is
good reason to believe that, as early as 1728, when he was but
twenty-two years of age, he was not so much of an infidel as some of
his friends supposed; for then he prepared a code of morals and belief
for his own use, entitled "Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion."
In this document he avows his belief in "One Supreme, most perfect
Being," and prays to "be preserved from atheism, impiety, and
profaneness." Under the head of "Thanks" occur the following:

"For peace and liberty, for food and raiment, for corn, and wine, and
milk, and every kind of healthful nourishment,--Good God, I thank
Thee!

"For the common benefits of air and light, for useful fire and
delicious water,--Good God, I thank Thee!

"For knowledge, and literature, and every useful art, for my friends
and their prosperity, and for the fewness of my enemies,--Good God, I
thank Thee!

"For all my innumerable benefits, for life, and reason, and the use of
speech; for health, and joy, and every pleasant hour,--Good God, I
thank Thee!"

It is true, there is not much religion in these things; and though
they may have been adopted to satisfy the demands of conscience only,
they prove that he was not an atheist, as many supposed.

Benjamin's experience with skeptical and infidel books recalls the
experience of two young men, when about the same age, with
publications of kindred character, which came very near depriving the
United States of two good Presidents.

Before Abraham Lincoln began the study of law, he was connected with a
clique or club of young men, who made light of religion, and read
books that treated it as a delusion. It was at this time that he read
Paine's "Age of Reason" and Volney's "Ruins," through which he was
influenced to array himself against the Bible for a time,--as much of
a skeptic, almost, as any one of his boon companions. But his early
religious training soon asserted itself, and we hear no more of
hostility to religion as long as he lived. On the other hand, when he
was elected President, he spoke as follows to his friends and
neighbors, who had assembled at the station to bid him adieu on
leaving for Washington, on the eve of the late bloody Civil war:

"My Friends: No one not in my position can appreciate the sadness I
feel at this parting. To this people I owe all that I am. Here I have
lived more than a quarter of a century. Here my children were born,
and here one of them lies buried. I know not how soon I shall see you
again. A duty devolves on me, which is greater, perhaps, than that
which has devolved upon any other man since the days of Washington. He
never would have succeeded except for the aid of Divine Providence,
upon which he at all times relied. I feel that I can not succeed
without the same Divine aid which sustained him, and on the same
Almighty Being I place my reliance for support; and I hope you, my
friends, will pray that I may receive that Divine assistance, without
which I can not succeed, but with which success is certain. Again I
bid you all an affectionate farewell."

When James A. Garfield became a member of the "Black Salter's" family,
he found "Marryatt's Novels," "Sinbad the Sailor," "The Pirates' Own
Book," "Jack Halyard," "Lives of Eminent Criminals," "The Buccaneers
of the Caribbean Seas"; and being a great reader, he sat up nights to
read these works. Their effect upon him was to weaken the ties of home
and filial affection, diminish his regard for religious things, and
create within him an intense desire for a seafaring life. Nothing but
a long and painful sickness, together with the wise counsels of his
mother and a popular teacher, saved him from a wild and reckless life
upon the sea, by leading him to Christ and a nobler life, in
consequence of which his public career was one of honor, and closed in
the highest office of the land.

Neither Lincoln nor Garfield would have been President of the United
States if the spell, with which the influence of corrupt books bound
them for the time, had not been broken by juster views of real life
and nobler aims.




XVIII.


HOW HE QUIT BOSTON.

"I tell you how it is, John," exclaimed Benjamin, under great
excitement; "I have withstood my brother's ill treatment as long as I
am going to. I shall leave him."

"How is that, Ben? I thought your brother would treat you with more
consideration after you immortalized yourself as an editor. I knew you
had a hard time with him before the _Courant_ was started." John
Collins knew somewhat of Benjamin's troubles, the first two years of
his apprenticeship.

"He has been worse since my prominence on the _Courant_; that is, at
times. I think my success aroused his jealousy, so that it fretted him
to see me, his apprentice, occupy a higher position than himself. Once
in a while he has seemed to be pleased with my prominence on the
paper, and then again it annoyed him."

"I should think you had helped him out of trouble enough to stir up
his gratitude a little, even if he had no pride in possessing so
bright a brother."

"Brother! brother!" exclaimed Benjamin. "He never thought of that
relation. I was his apprentice, to be lorded over until twenty-one
years of age. I do not think he would have treated the greatest
stranger as an apprentice more unkindly than he has me. He seemed to
think that the relation of master to an apprentice obliterates all
blood relationship."

"That is unfortunate for both of you," remarked John, "but most
unfortunate for him, whom public opinion will judge as a brother, and
not as a master. But how will you get along with your indenture if you
leave him?"

"I am justified by the circumstances in using the indenture, on the
back of which is his own endorsement of my freedom. He released me
from all obligations to him, that I might run the paper when he could
not."

"But the understanding between you was, if I remember, that it was
only a formality to evade the action of the General Court. He did not
mean that you should take advantage of it and refuse to serve him."

"That is true; but I say the circumstances justify me in using it as
if he really meant to give me my freedom. He has another indenture
which I signed, designed to be kept private, but he won't dare to
bring that out to the light of day, because it may get him into
further trouble with the General Court."

"You have the advantage of him there, I see, if you see fit to avail
yourself of it. Does James know how you feel about it?"

"He ought to know, for I have told him that I should leave him if he
continued to treat me as he has done. Probably he does not believe
that I shall quit, but I am not responsible for that. He ought to see
that such treatment would cause any apprentice to leave his master."

"What does he do that is so bad?" inquired John.

"He undertook to flog me, the other day. He did strike me, but I
showed him that I believed in self-defense, and he desisted. He has
beaten me often. I did not like the looks of an elder brother licking
a younger one, and so I put myself in a position to make such a scene
impossible."

"Well, I do not think that such a scene is particularly attractive,"
responded John in his droll way. "Such a scene in the theatre would be
tragedy, I think; it could not be comedy in a civilized land."

"That is no worse than other things he does. If he would get mad and
beat me, and then be kind and considerate for a while, I should be
quite well satisfied. But he is constantly domineering over me, as if
he meant I should realize all the while that he is my legal master."

"Does your father know about it?"

"Yes, and he has been decidedly in my favor until now. We have often
laid our differences before him, and in nearly every instance, he has
supported me. But for some reason, since the last trouble he has
upheld James. Perhaps it was because I did not allow James to beat me
as masters often do their apprentices."

"What do you propose to do if you leave your brother?" continued John.

"Go to New York. I can find work there. If there is nothing there for
an extra printer to do, I will turn my hand to something else. I shall
leave Boston."

"Why not get into one of the other printing offices in town? I do not
want you should quit Boston until I do."

"For two good reasons. The first is that my connection with the
_Courant_ stirred up the officials of the government, so that I am
obnoxious to them; and the second is, that my religious opinions have
become so well known, and have been so misrepresented, that ministers
and other good people consider me no better than an atheist. I prefer
to go among strangers, where I can have a chance to make a record for
myself."

"Better make a record here,--the best chance in the world. Here people
know who you are, or they ought to know by this time. Take my advice,
and secure a place in another printing office in Boston."

The result of this interview with John was, that Benjamin resolved to
secure a position in Boston if he could. But when he applied,
subsequently, for a situation, each printer declined to employ him.
James had been to them, anticipating that he might take this step, and
warned them against making any bargain with him. He assured them that
he should take legal steps, under the indenture of apprenticeship, to
maintain his rights if they employed him. Besides, he told them that
Benjamin did not believe the Christian religion, and he had no respect
for those who did; that, in short, he was "no better than an atheist."

James meant to compel Benjamin to continue to work for him; and he
thought if no other printer would hire him, that would end the
trouble. But the opposite effect was produced. It determined Benjamin
to quit Boston as soon as he could arrange for the change, though he
did not make known his decision to his brother. Probably his brother
did not dream of his leaving Boston for New York, or any other place.
However, Benjamin embraced the first opportunity to announce to him
that he should quit.

"I am my own man from this time," he cried, holding up his indenture
which his brother had returned to him. "This paper makes me free, and
I shall take advantage of it to leave you," and he shook the document
in James' face.

"You know that I never gave up the indenture because I relinquished
the bargain we had made. If you use it to assert and establish your
freedom, you will be guilty of a mean, contemptible act."

"I shall so use it!" and Benjamin was very defiant when he said it. "I
have borne your abuse long enough, and I will bear it no longer."

"We shall see about that. Father will have a word to say about it, you
will find. You are not of age yet." James spoke with remarkable
coolness for him, in the circumstances. He probably realized that
Benjamin had the advantage of him.

"Neither father nor any other man can force me to work for you any
longer. You have even been around to other printers, to influence them
not to employ me; and you have lied about me, telling them that I am
an atheist, and other things as bad."

"I told them nothing but the truth," replied James. "You know as well
as I do, that you believe Shaftesbury instead of the Bible."

"Well, no matter what I believe. I shall not work for you another day.
I will resort to the most menial employment for my bread and butter
before I will serve a man who will treat his own brother like a
slave." And again Benjamin flourished his indenture before the eyes of
James, defiantly.

It was not fair in Benjamin to take this advantage of his brother, and
he knew it; but his resentment triumphed over his regard for right at
the time. James returned his indenture only that he might be able to
publish the _Courant_ unmolested. It was a deceitful arrangement in
the first place, and Benjamin's use of the indenture to assert his
liberty was no more unfair and sinful than was James' device to make
him the proprietor of the paper, and thus evade the law. James was
paid in his own coin. He laid a plan to cheat the government, and he
got cheated himself. He was snared in the work of his own hands. This,
however, did not justify Benjamin in his course, as he afterwards saw
and frankly confessed. In his "Autobiography" he said:

"At length, a fresh difference arising between my brother and me, I
took upon me to assert my freedom, presuming that he would not venture
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-natured man.
Perhaps I was too saucy and provoking."

There is no doubt that Benjamin erred in the matter. He was by nature
headstrong and independent; and, perhaps, he was more self-willed on
account of his success in the business. But, after all allowances are
made, James must be regarded as the chief offender in the troubles,
and on him the responsibility for it rests in a large measure.

Benjamin lost no time in reporting his decision to John.

"I am going to New York as soon as I can get away," he said. "What do
you suppose that fellow has done? He has been around to the other
printers and threatened to enforce his claim to my services if they
hire me; and he lied about me, also. It is settled that I shall go to
New York. I am not going to be banged about any more."

"Well, it seems rather necessary for you to go somewhere if you can't
get work here," answered John. "But how am I going to get along
without you, Ben? Couldn't you turn your hand to something else?"

"I could, but I won't. I am fully resolved to quit Boston soon, and I
am satisfied that I must leave clandestinely, or I shall not get
away."

"How is that? Expect that your brother will lay violent hands upon you
to prevent?"

"I expect that he and father together will prevent my leaving, if
possible."

"Have you spoken with your father about it?"

"No, I have not; nor do I intend to. He sides with James now, and that
is enough for me. I shall say nothing to him about the matter."

"Perhaps he thinks you will leave Boston if you leave James,"
suggested John. "He may think that you will clear out and go to sea.
He has not forgotten your old hankering for a life on the wave."

"Possibly; but I have no desire now to go to sea. I have a trade that
I like, and I shall stick to it until I am forced out of it."

"How do you propose to get to New York? Got any plans ahead?"

"Yes, a plan is all that I have got. It remains to be seen how I can
carry it out. I do not think I can accomplish my purpose without your
help."

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