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From Boyhood to Manhood

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




"I agree with you; I do not call it good poetry; but every poet must
begin; and his first piece can not be his best. Poets improve as well
as clerks."

"Real poets!" responded Osborne, with a peculiar smile at the corners
of his mouth. And he continued:

"You seem to think that a fortune awaits a poet, too; but you are
laboring under a great mistake. There is no money in poetry in our
day, and there never was."

"Perhaps not; nevertheless I am confident that a poet may readily win
popularity and a livelihood. At any rate, I am determined to try it,
in spite of your decidedly poor opinion of my abilities."

"Well, my advice is that you stick to the business for which you were
bred, if you would keep out of the poor-house." Osborne said it more
to hector Ralph than any thing. "A good clerk is better than a poor
poet; you will agree to that."

Benjamin listened with a good deal of interest to the foregoing
discussion, and he saw that, from jealousy or some other cause,
Osborne was not according to Ralph the credit to which he was
entitled; and so he interrupted, by saying:

"You set yourself up for a critic, Osborne; but I think more of Ralph
as a poet than I do of you as a critic. You are unwilling to grant
that his productions have any merit at all; but I think have.
Moreover, it is a good practice for him, and for all of us, to write
poetry, even if it does not come quite up to Milton. It will improve
us in the use of language."

"Fiddlesticks! It is simply wasting time that might be spent in
profitable reading; and good reading will improve the mind more than
rhyming." Osborne spoke with much earnestness.

"Not half so much as your empty criticisms are wasting your breath,"
replied Benjamin, with a smile. "But, look here, I have just thought
of a good exercise that we better adopt. At our next meeting each one
of us shall bring in a piece of poetry of our own composition, and
we'll compare notes and criticise each other."

"I should like that," responded Ralph; "it is a capital proposition.
Perhaps Osborne may think it will be a waste of time and breath."

"Not at all," answered Osborne; "I agree to the plan, provided the
subject shall be selected now, so that all shall have fair play."

"We will do that, of course," said Benjamin. "Have you a subject to
suggest?"

"None whatever, unless it is a paraphrase of the Eighteenth Psalm,
which describes the descent of the Deity."

"That is a grand subject," responded Benjamin. "What do you say to
taking that, Ralph?"

"I think it is an excellent subject, and I am in favor of adopting
it."

Thus it was understood that each one should write a poetical
paraphrase of the Eighteenth Psalm for their next meeting, and, with
this understanding, they separated.

Just before the time of their next meeting Ralph called upon Benjamin
with his paraphrase, and asked him to examine it.

"I have been so busy," remarked Benjamin, "that I have not been able
to write any thing, and I shall be obliged to say 'unprepared' when my
turn comes to read. But I should like to read yours."

Benjamin read Ralph's article over, and then reread it.

"It is excellent; better than any poetry you have ever written,"
remarked Benjamin, when he had finished reading. "Osborne will have to
praise that."

"But he won't; you see if he does. Osborne never allows the least
merit in any thing I write. His envy, or jealousy, or something else,
hatches severe criticism, whether there is reason for it or not. He
will do that with this article; see if he don't."

"If he does, it will be proof that he is prejudiced against you, or is
no judge of poetry," replied Benjamin.

"Suppose we try a little game," continued Ralph. "I think we can put
his judgment to a test. He is not so jealous of you as he is of me.
Now you take this article, and produce it as your own, and I will make
some excuse for not being prepared. We shall then get at his real
opinion of the composition."

"A very ingenious test, Ralph," exclaimed Benjamin. "I will enter into
the plan with all my heart. But I must transcribe the article, so that
he will see that it is in my own handwriting."

"Certainly; and be careful that you do not let the secret out."

So they waited, almost impatiently, for the time of meeting, both
feeling almost sure that Osborne would fall into their net. The
appointed time came. Matson was the first to read his production.
Osborne came next; and his piece was much better than Matson's. Ralph
noticed two or three blemishes, but pointed out many beauties in it.

Next it was Ralph's turn to read. "I am sorry to confess that I have
nothing to read; but I promise to atone for this failure by doing my
part faithfully in future."

"Poets ought to be ready at any time," remarked Osborne humorously,
looking at Ralph.

"It is in order for them to fail sometimes, I think," replied Ralph;
"especially if they are not _born_ poets."

"Well, Ben, we must have yours, then. You will not disappoint us."

"I think you must excuse me this time," Benjamin answered, feigning an
unwillingness to read.

"No, Ben, no excuse for you," said Osborne. "You have it written; I
saw it in your hand."

"That is true; but after listening to such fine productions as we have
heard, I am not ambitious to read mine. I think I must correct it, and
dress it up a little before I submit it for criticism."

"That was not in the arrangement, Ben, when you suggested the
exercise," remarked Ralph.

"You are prepared, and, of course, we shall not excuse you."

After much bantering and urging, Benjamin proceeded to read his,
apparently with much diffidence; and all listened with profound
attention.

"You must read that again," said Osborne, when he finished reading it.
"Two readings of such a poem as that are none too much. Come, read it
again."

Benjamin read the article again, apparently with more confidence than
at first.

"You surprise me, Ben," exclaimed Osborne, when the second reading was
finished. "You are a genuine poet. I had no idea that you could write
like that."

"Nor I," added Matson. "It is better than half the poetry that is
printed. If the subject had not been given out, I don't know but I
should have charged you with stealing it."

"What do you say, Ralph?" inquired Osborne. "You are a poet, and poets
ought to be good judges of such matters." Another fling at Ralph's
claim to poetical ability.

"I don't think it is entirely faultless," remarked Ralph, after some
hesitation. "I think you have commended it full as highly as it
deserves. Not being a _born_ poet, however, I may not be a good
judge," glancing his eye at Osborne.

"Well done, Ralph!" exclaimed Osborne. "Your opinion of that
production is proof positive that you are destitute of real poetical
taste, as I have told you before."

Osborne was fairly caught. Ralph and Benjamin exchanged glances, as
if to inquire if their time of avowed triumph had not come; but both
appeared to conclude to keep the secret a little longer. They
controlled their risibles successfully, and allowed Osborne to go on
and express himself still more strongly in favor of the composition.

Ralph walked home with Osborne, in order to play the game a little
more, and their conversation was very naturally about Benjamin's
poetry.

"I had no idea," remarked Osborne, "that Ben could write poetry like
that. I was ashamed of my own when I heard his. I knew him to be a
talented fellow; but I had no idea that he was a poet. His production
was certainly very fine. In common conversation he seems to have no
choice of words; he hesitates and blunders; and yet, how he writes!"

"Possibly he might not have written it," suggested Ralph; a very
natural suggestion in the circumstances, though Osborne thought it was
an outrageous reflection.

"That is the unkindest cut of all," retorted Osborne; "to charge him
with plagiarism. Ben would never descend to so mean a thing as that."

They separated for that night; but Ralph embraced the first
opportunity to call on Benjamin, to exult over the success of their
little scheme. They laughed to their hearts' content, and discussed
the point of revealing the secret. They concluded finally, that the
real author of the article should be known at their next meeting.

Accordingly, the affair was managed so as to bring the facts of the
case before their companions at their next gathering. Osborne was
utterly confounded when the revelation was made, and knew not what to
say for himself. Matson shook his whole frame with convulsive laughter
at poor Osborne's expense, and Benjamin joined him with a keen relish.
Never was a fellow in a more mortifying predicament than this would-be
critic, since it was now perfectly manifest that he was influenced by
blind prejudice in his criticisms of Ralph's poetry. For now, disarmed
of prejudice, he had given it his most emphatic endorsement.

A few years later, Matson died in Benjamin's arms, much lamented by
all of his companions, who regarded him as "the best of their set."
Osborne removed to the West Indies, where he became an eminent lawyer,
but died just past middle life. Of the others we shall have occasion
to speak hereafter.

Benjamin always spoke well of that literary club. It was an excellent
way of using leisure time. It contributed much to his self-advancement,
as it did to that of his companions. Such an arrangement converts spare
moments into great blessings.

The time was drawing near for Benjamin to leave for England; and there
was one thing above all others, that he wished to do, viz.: to be
betrothed to Deborah Read. They had fallen in love with each other,
but were not engaged. He had not opened the subject to her parents;
but he must, if he would win her hand before going to England. So he
ventured.

"Both of you are too young," replied Deborah's mother. "You are only
eighteen! You can not tell what changes may occur before you are old
enough to be married."

"But that need not interfere with an engagement," suggested Benjamin.
"We only pledge each to the other against the time we are ready to be
married. Sometimes parties are engaged for years before they are
married."

"It is not a good plan, however. And why, Benjamin, do you deem an
engagement necessary in the circumstances?"

"Simply because a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," answered
Benjamin, laughing. Mrs. Read laughed, too.

"I have not quite satisfied myself that it is best to give up my
daughter to a printer," she added.

"How so?" inquired Benjamin with some anxiety.

"Because there are already several printing houses in the country, and
I doubt whether another can be supported."

"If I can not support her by the printing business, then I will do it
by some other," responded Benjamin, emphatically.

"I do not call in question your good intentions, by any means; but you
may not realize the fulfillment of your hopes. I think you had better
leave the matter as it is until you return from England, and see how
you are prospered."

"Of course, I shall yield to your judgment in the matter," said
Benjamin, very politely, "though I shall be somewhat disappointed."

"You and Deborah can have such understanding with each other as you
wish; but I object to a formal engagement. Leave that until you
return." Mrs. Read was decided in her opinions. Her husband died five
or six weeks before this interview.

So Benjamin had to leave his bird in the bush, instead of having it in
hand. And the bird promised to stay there, and sing for him on his
return.




XXVI.


A BOGUS SCHEME.

"I'm thinking of going to England with you," said Ralph to Benjamin, one
day in October, 1724.

"You don't mean it."

"I do mean it. I am thinking seriously of going."

"I shall be delighted to have your company, but the news is almost too
good to be true," continued Benjamin.

"I have been looking the matter over ever since you told me that you
expected to go; and now it is settled in my own mind that I shall go."

"Going out for your employer?"

"No, going out to establish a correspondence, if possible, and arrange
to obtain goods to sell on commission."

"That is a capital scheme, it seems to me, Ralph. I think you can
establish a good business with your tact and experience. You'll have
to hurry up; for I expect that Captain Annis will sail in three
weeks." Benjamin's words showed his gladness that one of his intimate
companions would accompany him.

"It won't take me long to get ready; I have been arranging matters for
some time with reference to going, though I have spoken to no one
about it." Ralph was careful not to divulge the real reason of his
going, lest Benjamin should disapprove.

At length it was announced that the _London Hope_, Captain Annis,
master, would sail about the 10th of November. And now, Benjamin was
full of business. He made known his intentions to Keimer and other
friends, without disclosing the real object of his trip, or that he
was going under the patronage of Governor Keith. Considerable surprise
and regret were expressed by several friends that he was going, and
yet they were free to say that it would prove an excellent school for
such a young man as Benjamin. Governor Keith was lavish in his
attentions and interest.

"You will want letters of introduction from me; and I shall have some
instructions, which I will write out carefully," he said.

"The letters will be indispensable; and the instructions I shall most
surely need to relieve my lack of experience," Benjamin replied.

"I will have them all ready two or three days before Captain Annis
sails," added the governor, "and you can call for them. I may want to
see you again before I get them ready, and I will send for you."

Benjamin thanked Governor Keith for his great kindness, assuring him
that he should always feel himself under a heavy debt of gratitude,
never dreaming that the scheming politician was luring him into a
snare. He put his whole heart and soul into preparation to leave. To
him it was the great event of his life; and it would have been, if Sir
William Keith had been an honest man instead of a rogue. For an
American youth, eighteen years of age, to represent the governor of
Pennsylvania in the city of London, to consummate a business
enterprise of the greatest importance to a thriving American town, was
an unusual occurrence. Any youth of considerable ability and ambition
must have realized the value and dignity of the enterprise; but to
such a youth as Benjamin was,--talented, aspiring, coveting success,
striving for the best,--the opportunity of this business enterprise,
proposed and patronized by the highest officer in the colony, must
have appealed strongly to his manly and noble nature. We shall see,
however, as it turned out, that all the honesty and high-minded
purpose that invested it was in Benjamin's soul. Treachery,
dishonesty, and perfidy blackened the soul of his patron, loading him
down with infamy almost without a parallel.

Three days before Captain Annis set sail, Benjamin called for his
letters.

"My time has been so thoroughly occupied by public business that I
have not been able to prepare them, but I will attend to it."

"I can call again without any trouble," answered Benjamin, exceedingly
grateful for the governor's patronage.

"I am sorry that I have not been able to prepare them; but I will not
disappoint you again. Call day after to-morrow." The more the governor
said and promised, the more thankful Benjamin felt that he had fallen
into such generous hands.

"I will call in the afternoon, day after to-morrow," replied Benjamin;
and thanking him again for his great kindness, took his leave.

He called as he promised for the letters and other papers. Instead of
being ushered into the governor's presence, as usual, his secretary,
Colonel French, came out to announce:

"The governor regrets exceedingly that he has not the documents ready
yet, and desires that you shall call again to-morrow, just before the
vessel sails."

"Very well, I will call," replied Benjamin, without the least
suspicion that any trouble was brewing for him.

On the next day, with all his baggage on board, and the "good-bye"
said to all his friends, he hastened to the governor's head-quarters
for his papers. Again Colonel French met him with the announcement:

"The governor desires me to say that he is really ashamed to
disappoint you again; but a constant pressure of business has
prevented. But the vessel will stop at Newcastle, and he will meet you
and deliver yours with other letters he has to send; and he hopes that
you will have a pleasant voyage and meet with great success."

"Please convey my thanks to him for his many kindnesses and present
good wishes," answered Benjamin, "and say to him that I will execute
his commands to the very best of my ability, and report at the
earliest possible time."

So saying, Benjamin returned and boarded the vessel, which soon
dropped down the Delaware, thinking all the while of his good fortune
in having so great and good a man as Governor Keith for his friend.

At Newcastle, Benjamin landed and hastened to see the governor, whom
he expected to be there, as Colonel French said; but he met only the
secretary, who announced again:

"The governor is now writing the last dispatch, and will send your
documents, with others, on board before the ship weighs anchor. He
would be glad to see you again before you leave, but requires me to
say that every moment of his time will be occupied to the very last
minute, so he must content himself with sending to you, by me, his
last words of confidence and his best wishes."

"Convey mine, also, to him," Benjamin replied, as he turned away to go
to the vessel.

Just as the ship was about to sail, a bag of letters and other
documents came on board from the governor. Benjamin supposed that it
contained his indispensable letters, and, at a suitable time, he went
to the captain and said:

"Governor Keith was to furnish me with letters of introduction to
friends in London, and I suppose they are in the bag which he sent
aboard. Can I look them over for my letters?"

"Just now I am too busy to give the matter any attention," Captain
Annis said; "but I assure you that, long before we reach London, you
shall have the opportunity to examine and take what belongs to you."

"That will do; I thank you," replied Benjamin, perfectly satisfied
that all was right; and he settled down to enjoy the voyage.

When the vessel entered the English Channel, Captain Annis brought out
the bag of documents from the governor for Benjamin to inspect. He was
surprised beyond measure not to find any letters addressed to himself.
He found several addressed to other parties with his name written upon
them, as under his care, but not one addressed to himself. It was very
singular, he thought, but he concluded that one of the number was
devoted to his mission, as it was addressed to Baskett, the king's
printer. He found seven or eight letters addressed to different
parties, "Care of Benjamin Franklin," and he took them all from the
bag. He still supposed that every thing about his mission was correct.

They arrived in London on the 24th of December, when Benjamin lacked
about a month of being nineteen years old. With Ralph, he proceeded to
find lodgings at once; and just as soon as that arrangement was made,
he hastened to deliver the letters submitted to his care. The first
party upon whom he called was a stationer.

"I have the honor of bringing a letter to you, sir, from Governor
Keith of Pennsylvania, America," he said, with considerable assurance.

"I have not the honor of his acquaintance," answered the stationer.
"Pray, tell me who Governor Keith may be."

"The letter will inform you, no doubt," replied Benjamin, giving him
the letter.

The stationer opened it; but read scarcely three lines before he
exclaimed, to Benjamin's consternation:

"Oh, this is from Riddlesden! I have lately found him to be a complete
rascal, and I will have nothing to do with him, nor receive any
letters from him," and he handed the letter back to Benjamin without
reading all of it, turned upon his heel and went back to his work.

Benjamin's feelings can be imagined better than described. He was
well-nigh dumbfounded to learn that the letter was not from Governor
Keith. And then it was that the first flash of suspicion that he had
been deceived entered his mind. He was still more surprised to learn,
on examination, that not one of the letters he had taken from the bag
was written by Governor Keith. There he was without one letter of
introduction to any person in London, the scheme of establishing a
printing house in Philadelphia discovered to be a myth, a mere boy,
friendless and without work, in a great city, three thousand miles
from home. If another American youth was ever lured into a baser trap,
by a baser official, his name has never been recorded. Benjamin was at
his wits' end--he knew not what to do. His feelings bordered upon
despair. Had he not been a wonderful youth to rise superior to
difficulties, he must have yielded to overwhelming discouragement.

To add to his troubles, when he disclosed his situation to Ralph, he
learned that his old companion had abandoned his wife and child, never
intending to return to America.

"You are a hard-hearted wretch; I never would have thought such a
thing of you, Ralph," he exclaimed. "Such meanness ought to be left to
baser men than you are."

"I suppose that you would never look with any favor upon such a plan
as mine, and so I did not tell you," replied Ralph.

"It is lucky for you that you did not; for I never would have
consented to be the companion of a young man running away from his
wife and child."

"Well, I have never been treated well by one member of my wife's
family from the day I was married, and before, too. I have borne it
without complaining to any one, until I could bear it no longer. Now
let them reflect."

"But that is no excuse for a man to abandon his family, no excuse
whatever. Why, Ralph, I am almost as much deceived in you as I have
been in Governor Keith. I did not think that you were capable of such
meanness." Benjamin meant every word he uttered; and he was not
disposed to spare his old friend at all. Another bit of information
just here magnified his sorrows.

"I am out of funds entirely, Ben, so that I have begun to be cursed
already, you see, without yours." Ralph spoke as if the remarks of Ben
cut him to the quick.

"Out of money!" exclaimed Ben. "Come here dead broke? You must be
crazy, Ralph. Abandon your family, and shove yourself upon me to
support in London! I am shocked."

"I am afraid that both of us will be more shocked than that before we
get through," answered Ralph with the utmost coolness. "You have been
too good a friend to desert me now, Ben."

The last remark touched a tender spot in Benjamin's heart. He and
Ralph had been true friends, and passed many happy hours together. He
abhorred his inhumanity to his wife and child, and his deceitfulness
in claiming to go to London to secure goods to sell on commission and
establish correspondence; but he had no heart to abandon him in a
strange city.

"Get work, Ralph, as soon as possible, or we shall be in a bad plight;
for I have only fifteen pistoles in all, which will not keep up a
connection between soul and body long." This remark of Benjamin's
implied that he should divide what he had with Ralph as long as it
lasted.

"I shall do that, Ben, you may rest assured; for I will not take
advantage of your generosity any longer than I can help. I mean to
continue a good friend of yours whether you continue to be a good
friend of mine or not." This was a shrewd way of putting it. Ralph
knew the young man he was talking with thoroughly.

Benjamin resolved to seek the advice of Mr. Denham. He was a Quaker
merchant who sailed from Philadelphia with him. He was a stranger to
him; but, when Colonel French came on board with letters from the
governor at Newcastle, he introduced Benjamin to Denham. For this
reason Denham became deeply interested in Benjamin, and showed him
many favors. Now his advice would be specially useful to Benjamin; so
he sought and found him.

"I find, Mr. Denham, that Governor Keith has been deceiving me. I came
here under his auspices, and he promised me letters of introduction to
parties, and the means to purchase an outfit for a first-class
printing house in Philadelphia; and he has not fulfilled either
promise. There are no letters for me among the dispatches he sent on
board at Newcastle. He has proved himself a fraud and a cheat."

"He always did that," Mr. Denham replied. "If I had known that you
were depending on Keith for any thing, I could have opened your eyes
to his rascality at once. Keith is an official scamp."

"Here is a letter from Riddlesden to a stationer here," and passing
the letter to Denham, he rehearsed his interview with the stationer.

"Riddlesden!" exclaimed Denham; "so base an attorney-at-law never
cursed Pennsylvania. He is matched in perfidy only by Keith. Two worse
rogues never occupied important positions in any country."

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