From Boyhood to Manhood
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William M. Thayer >> From Boyhood to Manhood
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"A _Water-American_, indeed!" said Mr. Watts, who heard much of the
conversation. "But will you not allow some comfort to hard-working
men?"
"Certainly; that is what I am after. There is more comfort in one
glass of pure water than there is in a whole barrel of beer. Here is
Watts, paying out four or five shillings every week for beer, when
water would cost him nothing, and he would have that amount to spend
for genuine comforts. Besides, beer unfits him to get real comfort out
of any thing, even out of his home."
"You are about right on that," replied Watts; "beer does make a class
of men most miserable. But must I discard it because some men use it
to their injury?"
"Of course you must," Benjamin answered quickly and triumphantly.
"There is where duty and right come in. The strong must bear the
infirmities of the weak, or they won't amount to much in the world."
"Many of them won't amount to much any way, beer or no beer,"
responded Watts.
"Any of them will amount to more with water than they will with beer,"
retorted Benjamin, who felt competent to support his side of the
question. He went on:
"Look here: I am supplied with a large porringer of hot-water gruel,
sprinkled with pepper, crumbled with bread, and a bit of butter in it,
for just the price of a pint of beer, three half-pence. Now, honestly,
is not this much better for me, or for yourself, than the same amount
of filthy beer?"
"Possibly; it is a new view of the case to me," was all that Mr. Watts
could say, evidently conceding that Benjamin was about right.
Benjamin exchanged the press-room for the composing-room, after a few
weeks.
"A treat now, Ben; that is the condition of admission here," said the
men.
"I guess not; I fulfilled that condition in the press-room," answered
Benjamin. "Once will do in this establishment."
"But you _will_," retorted a fellow-worker, enforced by a dozen
voices. "The rule is irrevocable."
"We will see about that," replied Benjamin, with coolness, but
determination.
"Yes, we _will_ see," chimed in a resolute voice.
"And after all your seeing and blustering I shall not do it," added
Benjamin, in a tone that indicated he meant what he said.
"Ben is right," interrupted Mr. Watts, who had listened to the
colloquy; "he has met that condition once in the press-room, and he
will not be required to repeat it. I forbid his doing it."
"It is a very foolish custom any way," said Benjamin, "and the sooner
it is abandoned in England or anywhere else the better."
After all he did not carry his point. His own words about the affair
were as follows:
"I stood out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered as an
excommunicate, and had so many little pieces of private malice
practised on me, by mixing my sorts, transposing and breaking my
matter, etc., etc., if ever I stepped out of the room,--and all
ascribed to the _chapel ghost_, which they said ever haunted those not
regularly admitted,--that, notwithstanding the master's protection, I
found myself obliged to comply and pay the money; convinced of the
folly of being on ill terms with those one is to live with
continually."
Benjamin kept up the fight against beer-drinking until he fairly
conquered. One after another yielded to his example and arguments, and
abandoned the old habit of swilling down beer, until a thorough
reformation was wrought in the printing office. The strength, health,
tact, and enterprise of the "_water-drinker_" convinced them that he
was right. The title, "_Our Water-drinker_" bandied about the printing
house, came to be really an appellation of esteem.
The printing press, on which Benjamin worked at Watts' printing house,
is now in the Patent Office at Washington, where many visitors go to
see it. Forty years after he worked on it, Franklin was in London,
where his fame was greater than that of any other man, and he called
at the old printing house, and going up to the familiar press, he said
to the employees:
"It is just forty years since I worked at this press, as you are
working now."
[Illustration: FRANKLIN'S LONDON PRINTING PRESS]
The announcement rather startled them. That a public man of so much
fame should ever have even served in a printing office as they were
serving, was almost too much for them to believe.
The publisher of this volume has in his possession _fac-simile_
letters from different gentlemen in England, fully verifying the press
the engraving of which appears above.
XXVIII.
AT HOME AGAIN.
We have seen that James Ralph and Benjamin parted company. Ralph had
more brains than heart. His intellectual powers were greater than his
principles. The reader may ask what became of him. After continuing
poor and unsuccessful, engaging in several literary ventures that did
little more than aggravate his poverty, and changing from one kind of
work to another, good fortune seemed to become his portion. Mr. Parton
says:
"As a political writer, pamphleteer, and compiler of booksellers'
history, he flourished long. Four ministers thought his pen worth
purchasing: Sir Robert Walpole, Mr. Pelham, Lord Bute, and the Duke of
Bedford. The nobleman last named evidently held him in high esteem,
and furnished the money for one of Ralph's political periodicals. Lord
Bute, it is said, settled upon him an annuity of six hundred pounds.
Fox praises the fairness, and Hallam the diligence, displayed in his
two huge folios of the 'History of William III.' His works may be
examined by the curious in the library of Harvard University and in
the Philadelphia city library. In estimating the career of this erring
man, we should not forget that many of the noblemen and statesmen with
whom he associated, and for whose advancement he toiled, had less
principle than he, and had not his excuse."[3]
"Swimming is one of the fine arts, I think," said Benjamin to Wygate,
a printer with whom he was on the most intimate terms. "I feel about
as much at home in the water as I do on the land."
"Well, I should go to the bottom pretty quick if I should venture
where the water is over my head, for I can't swim any more than this
printing-press can," answered Wygate.
"Why don't you learn? It might be of great use to you sometime."
"I should like to know how, but I never tried to learn."
"And that is a good reason for not knowing how to swim. You can't
expect to know any thing without learning. I can teach you without any
trouble."
"I accept your offer, and will try my best to learn; and Hall will try
with me, I think. You can teach two as well as one, can't you?"
"Yes, a dozen, so far as that goes; the more the merrier."
"When will you go?"
"Just when you please. You and Hall fix the time, and I will be on
hand."
The result was that Benjamin was in the water with his two pupils
within a few days, and he taught both of them to swim well in two
lessons. At the same time, he gave them an exhibition of what an
expert swimmer can do in the water, performing different feats on and
under the water, that filled his two companions with surprise.
"You are a water-American in more senses than one," remarked Wygate,
in admiration of Benjamin's pranks in the water. "You could live in
the water about as well as on the land."
"That is not strange," responded Hall; "he believes in water, inside
and outside; he only practises what he preaches, and that is what he
ought to do."
"Some people can't practise what they preach if they try ever so hard,
in business or in morals," rejoined Wygate.
Wygate was the son of a wealthy man, who educated him quite
thoroughly. He could read Latin and French about as well as he could
English, and he could write very entertaining articles. He was fond of
reading, too, and loved to discuss important questions. Such a young
man was not often found in a printing office, and he just suited
Benjamin in his literary tastes, so that they became boon companions.
Their mutual attachment was strengthened by this experience in the art
of swimming.
Not long after Wygate learned to swim, and while the feats that
Benjamin performed in the water were still a subject of remark, some
gentlemen proposed an excursion by water to Chelsea, several miles
from London.
"Wouldn't you like to go, Ben?"
"Of course I would, if you are going."
"I will go if you go. I will call round with some of the party and
introduce you to them."
This was done in due time, and Benjamin learned from them that they
were going to Chelsea "to see the college and Don Saltero's
curiosities," which object of the excursion more than doubled his
interest.
On the trip Wygate talked much with some of the party about Benjamin's
feats in the water as almost too wonderful to be believed. On
returning, one of the gentlemen said:
"Franklin, why can you not give us an exhibition of your antics in the
water?"
"Yes, Ben, do; let them see that what I have told them is literally
true," entreated Wygate.
"Come, Ben, do it," added Hall; "it will put Saltero's curiosities
into the shade. These gentlemen will be so interested in your
performances that they will forget all other curiosities."
"Well, I am always ready to accommodate," replied Benjamin, "and it
will not cross my disposition to have a little frolic in the water, so
I will consent."
So saying, he took off his clothing and leaped into the river, and was
soon as much at home there as a water-fowl. Sometimes he was under the
water, and sometimes on it; it did not seem to make much difference to
him which. He swam from Chelsea to Blackfriars, four miles,
entertaining the company with many manoeuvres all the way. Then he got
on board, arrayed himself in his apparel to hear such words of praise
as these:
"Wonderful! I had no idea that any man could attain to such skill in
the water."
"No one in London who can do that!"
"Nor in all England and Wales."
"Couldn't drown you, Franklin, if you were left in the middle of the
Atlantic ocean."
"You could make a fortune, if you chose to exhibit your skill."
As this brief experience, together with his teaching Wygate and Hall
to swim, won him quite a reputation on this line, we may state here,
that after Benjamin had decided to return to Philadelphia and arranged
therefor, he received a note from Sir William Wyndham, a noted public
man, who was Chancellor of the Exchequer in the Bolingbroke
administration, inviting him to pay him a visit. Benjamin was again
perplexed to know what this great man could want of him; but he went
to see him.
"I am happy to see you, Mr. Franklin, and I hope it has been no
inconvenience to you to call at this time."
"None at all," answered Benjamin. "On the other hand, I consider
myself highly honored by your invitation to call; and I have gladly
embraced the first opportunity to do so."
"I have heard of your great skill in the art of swimming," continued
Sir Wyndham; "and how quickly you taught two young printers to swim."
"Yes," modestly answered Benjamin, "I have some skill in the water,
and I did teach two of my companions the art of swimming, so that they
are excellent swimmers now."
"That is what I heard; and I have two sons who are soon to start upon
extensive travels, and I want they should learn to swim before they
go. It may be of great service to them."
"I have no doubt it would prove a benefit to them," responded
Benjamin. "I should not want to part with my skill for any
consideration whatever."
"Can you teach my two sons the art at once?"
"I regret to say that I can not, for the reason that I am soon to
leave London and return to America."
"Sorry for that, very sorry indeed. Allow me to suggest that, if you
could prolong your stay here, you might make a real pecuniary success
of establishing a swimming school. I should be willing to pay almost
any price for the instruction of my two sons." Sir Wyndham was very
earnest in his counsel, and made this suggestion sincerely.
"I really feel under great obligations for your interest and good
opinions," Benjamin answered; "but I have already accepted an
invitation to engage in business in Philadelphia, my home, and may
leave within a few days."
"That settles the matter, of course; but I am sorry that it is so,"
added Sir Wyndham. "I trust that you may prosper wherever you are."
Benjamin thanked him heartily for his complimentary words and good
wishes, and left him, almost wishing that he could cancel his
engagement with Mr. Denham and open a swimming school. Wygate and Hall
assured him that he could do well in that business.
Soon after the excursion to Chelsea, Wygate made known to Benjamin a
scheme that was in his mind.
"I want to travel extensively over Europe," he said, "and I have
decided to do it if you will become my traveling companion. We can
stop as necessity requires, from time to time, and work at our
business, so as to pay our way."
"I should like nothing better than to travel all over Europe,"
answered Benjamin. "I have a desire to see more than I have seen of
this part of the world."
"Well, what do you think of the plan?"
"I should say that it is practicable, although the suggestion is
entirely new to me. Could we get work at our business?"
"I took it for granted that we could," replied Wygate. "I have no more
means of knowing than you have."
"I should take it for granted that we could, too," said Benjamin;
"still I shall want to consider it; it is quite an enterprise to
undertake."
"Somewhat of a scheme; but a very interesting and instructive one if
successfully prosecuted."
"That is so, and I think favorably of it. I will consult my good
friend, Denham, about it. He has seen more of the world than we have."
Benjamin was evidently favorably impressed with the proposition; for
he embraced the first opportunity to lay the subject before Mr.
Denham.
"It does not strike me favorably," said Mr. Denham.
"We could both see and learn a great deal," remarked Benjamin.
"That is true; but other things are to be considered, which are of
equal importance. What might do for Wygate, whose home is here, might
not do for you, whose home is in America."
"That may be." Benjamin's brief reply indicated that he was not quite
certain on that point.
"It appears to me," continued Mr. Denham, "that your first thoughts
should be concerned about returning to Philadelphia, that you may set
up business for yourself there."
"I do not see much prospect of that at present. Of course I should be
glad to return home; for there is no place I prefer to Philadelphia."
"So far as prospects of which you speak are concerned, we can not
always judge; unexpected opportunities sometimes offer; and you do not
want to put yourself where you can not accept and use them."
"Of course not," Benjamin answered, evidently disappointed that his
friend did not endorse the scheme.
"I should recommend decidedly that you abandon the project entirely,
and think no more about it. Then you can continue your work with the
intention of returning to America whenever a favorable opportunity
occurs."
Benjamin accepted the advice of Mr. Denham, and reported to Wygate, to
the no small disappointment of the latter; and both discarded the
scheme and devoted themselves to honest labor.
Benjamin heard of a place where he could get boarded at two shillings
a week, when he was paying three shillings and sixpence a week in Duke
Street.
"I think I shall be under the necessity of changing," he said to the
widow with whom he was boarding. "I want to save all the money I can,
so as to return to America."
"I shall be very sorry to have you leave, Mr. Franklin, if I can
possibly arrange with you to remain."
"I have no desire to leave, except to save a little in my expenses,
that I may return to America sooner: that is all."
"Rather than have you go, I will deduct two shillings a week from what
you are paying me now."
"That is, you propose to board me for one shilling and sixpence a
week?"
"Yes, that is it, and it is a bargain if you say so."
"It is a bargain, then." And Benjamin continued to board there as long
as he remained in London.
Before this woman received him for a boarder in the first place, she
sent to the printing house to inquire about his character. The report
was so favorable that she took him to board. And now she had tried
him, and was a greater admirer of his character than ever.
It is one of the things to be said in Benjamin's favor, that, with all
his faults, he always pleased and satisfied his employers and
boarding-house keepers.
Benjamin records the following interesting incident respecting his
friend Denham, of whom we have spoken, and to whom we shall refer
again:
"I must record one trait of this good man's character. He had formerly
been in business at Bristol, but failed, in debt to a number of
people, compounded, and went to America. There, by a close application
to business as a merchant, he acquired a plentiful fortune in a few
years. Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited his old
creditors to an entertainment, at which he thanked them for the easy
composition they had favored him with, and, when they expected nothing
but the treat, every man at the first remove found under his plate an
order on a banker for the full amount of the unpaid remainder, with
interest."
It was this excellent man and friend, who finally approached Benjamin
with a proposition.
"How would you like to return to Philadelphia?" he said to Benjamin.
"I should like nothing better, if the way was open for me to go."
"I will open a way for you if you will go."
"How?"
"I am going myself. I intend to open a store of goods in Philadelphia,
and will employ you in the business, if you will go."
"I should like to go; but that will be a new business for me; perhaps
I shall not succeed in it."
"That is _my_ lookout. I think you will succeed; at any rate, I am
prepared to take the risk."
"And I am prepared to go if you will." Benjamin was really delighted
with the proposition.
"I will pay you fifty pounds for one year, and increase your wages
thereafter as you become familiar with the business."
"That offer is satisfactory, though it is not as much as I make at my
trade now."
"It will be better if you succeed. When you become well acquainted
with the business, I will send you with a cargo of bread and flour to
the West Indies, and I will procure you commissions from others that
will be profitable. In this way you can establish a good business for
yourself."
"That is a very generous offer on your part, and I hope that I shall
merit your kindness."
"It will be necessary for you to close up your business at the
printing house at once, as I want you to assist me in purchasing,
packing, and shipping goods. My purpose is to carry a large stock to
Philadelphia."
"I shall accept your proposition, and resign my position at Watts'
immediately, and be at your service early and late."
Benjamin, no doubt, was more interested to return to America on
account of his relation to Miss Deborah Read. He had written to her
but once, and that was directly after he began work at Palmer's
printing house. He told her of Keith's fraud practised upon him,
leaving him in London a stranger and nearly penniless, so that he
could not return until he had earned money enough to pay his passage.
He did not write to her again, and his conscience had condemned him,
so that, at times, he dwelt sadly upon his unfaithfulness. He
neglected to write for so long a time, that he became ashamed to write
at all; and so the correspondence dropped. Yet, he did not forget Miss
Read, nor cast her off; and he blamed himself every time his thoughts
dwelt upon his sin of omission.
Benjamin's employer was very sorry to part with him.
"I am glad to have you as long as I have," he said, "but I wish you
would stay. I feel safe to commit work or business to your care. If
ever I can do you a favor, let me know, and I will only be too glad to
do it."
"I thank you for your confidence. I have done the best for you I
could, as I always mean to do for every employer. I regret to leave
you, and my companions with whom I have spent so many hours. But I
have a strong desire to return home." Benjamin spoke with considerable
feeling.
"That is an honorable desire," answered Mr. Watts, "and I have no
doubt that you will be prospered in gratifying it. At any rate, I hope
you will."
So Benjamin separated from his old friends on the best of terms, and
commenced work for Mr. Denham. Nor was it light work. He accompanied
his employer from warehouse to warehouse, packing goods that he
bought, and forwarding them to the ship _Berkshire_, which would sail
on July 21st. It was new business for him, but he liked it all the
more for its novelty; and he performed the labors with his accustomed
tact and industry.
Benjamin had been nineteen months in London when he sailed on the 21st
of July, 1726. A few months before, he made the acquaintance of Peter
Collinson, a young man of noble English birth, whose talents gave him
nearly as much standing as his ancestry. Collinson heard of Benjamin
and sought him out, forming a life-long friendship. Collinson
accompanied Benjamin to the ship. Just before the vessel weighed
anchor, he handed his walking-stick to Benjamin, saying, "Let us
exchange."
Benjamin exchanged, replying, "And let it be a pledge of friendship
forever."
"And a pledge, also, of faithful correspondence with each other,"
added Collinson, as they shook hands and parted.
The _Berkshire_, Henry Clark, master, was eighty-two days on its
voyage to Philadelphia. Benjamin landed there on the 11th day of
October, 1726: and he was at home again.
[3] "Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin," vol. i. p. 136.
XXIX.
UPS AND DOWNS OF LIFE.
One of the first places that Benjamin visited was the printing house
of Keimer, where he worked before leaving the country. Keimer had made
up his mind that Benjamin would never return to America, so that when
he entered the printing office he was startled.
"Why, Ben! can it be you?" he exclaimed in wonder. "I began to think
that you would never be seen in Philadelphia again."
"Why did you think so?"
"Because you planned to be back here a long time ago; I concluded that
you had forsaken us."
"Not yet; I have seen no place abroad quite equal to Philadelphia. I
did not return as soon as I expected." And Benjamin rehearsed to
Keimer substantially his experience with Governor Keith, that he might
understand why his return was delayed.
"That is what you got for concealing your purpose," said Keimer. "I
could have told you that Keith was wholly unreliable, and so could a
good many other people. He has been turned out of office because of
his rascality."
"I am glad to hear that. I am a little curious to see how he will act,
and hear what he will say, when I meet him."
"He won't meet you if he can help it. I see him occasionally on the
street, and he looks crestfallen."
"He will look more so, I imagine, when he meets me. I propose to talk
matters over very plainly with him."
"That can do no good. The less breath you waste in that way, the
better for you," replied Keimer. "But I suppose you want to go to work
at your old trade? Plenty of work here, and you are just the man to do
it."
Keimer's business had increased largely, and he had added many
facilities for doing work, so that the establishment presented a more
attractive appearance.
"No; I am a printer no longer," answered Benjamin. "I am booked for
the mercantile business in Philadelphia"
"How is that? Were you not a printer in London?"
"Yes, I followed my trade there, and learned more about it than I ever
knew before. London is a great place for printing. Two printing houses
there, with more than fifty hands in each."
"Think you can do better in trading than printing?" asked Keimer, who
was really anxious for Benjamin's services.
"Not exactly so. But I should be in London now, had not Mr. Denham's
offer to become his clerk brought me home." And Benjamin told the
story of his acquaintance with Mr. Denham and the outcome, which was
his offer to make him his business manager.
"A good opportunity, I should think, if you like that business,"
answered Keimer; "but I should like to put you in manager of my
printing office. You have had the experience, and understand the
business much better than any man I have."
"That is out of the question now, of course, as I am under obligations
to Mr. Denham."
"Of course; I only meant to tell you what I would do if you were at
liberty."
Benjamin was anxious to learn about Miss Read, whom he was quite
ashamed to meet because of his neglect. Keimer was acquainted with the
family, and first introduced him to them, as was stated in a former
chapter. So that he had no doubt he would know all about Deborah. He
ventured to inquire:
"What can you tell me about Mrs. Read and her daughter?"
"Mrs. Read lives where she did, and continues to take a few boarders.
Her daughter was married to a miserable fellow, nearly a year ago, but
lived with him only a few weeks, when she left him."
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