From Boyhood to Manhood

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IX.

TABLE-TALK EDUCATION.

We delay the narrative, at this point, to introduce a subject that
Franklin often referred to as influencing his early life. In his
"Autobiography," he said:

"At his table he [his father] liked to have, as often as he could,
some sensible friend or neighbor to converse with; and always took
care to start some ingenious or useful topic for discourse, which
might tend to improve the minds of his children. By this means he
turned our attention to what was good, just, and prudent, in the
conduct of life; and little or no notice was ever taken of what
related to the victuals on the table; whether it was well or ill
dressed, in or out of season, of good or bad flavor, preferable or
inferior to this or that other thing of the kind; so that I was
brought up in such a perfect inattention to those matters, as to be
quite indifferent what kind of food was set before me. Indeed, I am so
unobservant of it, that to this day I can scarce tell, a few hours
after dinner, of what dishes it consisted. This has been a great
convenience to me in travelling, where my companions have been
sometimes very unhappy for want of a suitable gratification of their
more delicate, because better instructed, tastes and appetites."

This was different from much of the table-talk that is heard in many
families now.

"I do not want any of that, I do not love it," exclaims one child. "I
should think you might have a better dinner than this."

"What would you have if you could get it; roast chicken and plum
pudding?" his mother replies, in a facetious way, instead of reproving
him.

"I would have something I could eat. You know I do not love that, and
never did."

"Well, it does boys good, sometimes, to eat what they do not love,
especially such particular ones as you are," adds his father.

"I sha'n't eat what I do not like, anyhow; I shall go hungry first."

"There, now, let me hear no more complaint about your food," adds his
father, more sharply. "You are scarcely ever suited with your
victuals."

"May I have some?" calling for something that is not on the table.

"If you will hold your tongue, and get it yourself, you can have it."

"And let me have some, too," shouts another child. "I do not love this,
neither. May I have some, pa?"

"And I, too," exclaims still another. "I must have some if Henry and
James do."

In this way the table-talk proceeds, until fretting, scolding, crying,
make up the sum total of the conversation, and family joy are
embittered for the remainder of the day. In contrast with the
discipline of instructive conversation, such schooling at the fireside
is pitiable indeed.

Franklin claimed that this feature of family government exerted a
moulding influence upon his life and character. It caused him to value
profitable conversation in boyhood and youth. In manhood he frequently
found himself posted upon subjects made familiar to him by
conversation at the table and hearthstone of his boyhood, especially
topics relating to the mother country. He was more particularly
edified by conversation at home during the four years that "Uncle
Benjamin" was a member of his father's family. For this favorite
"Uncle" was a very instructive talker, having been educated by the
conversation of his father at home in England, as his nephew Benjamin
was by his father in Boston. When "Uncle Benjamin" was very old, he
could even recall the expressions which his father used in prayer at
the family altar, and he wrote some of them in one of his books of
poetry, as follows:

"Holy Father, into thy hand we commit our spirits, for thou hast
redeemed them, O Lord God of Truth."

"Command thine angel to encamp round about our habitation."

"Give thine angels charge over us, that no evil may come nigh our
dwelling."

"Thou knowest our down-lying and rising-up, thou art acquainted
with all our ways, and knowest our tho'ts afar off."

"We know that in us, that is, in our flesh, there dwelleth no good
thing."

"Holy Father, keep through thine own name all those that are thine,
that none of them be lost."

"We thank thee, O Father, Lord of Heaven and earth. Tho' thou hast
hid these things from the wise and prudent, yet thou hast revealed
them unto babes. Even so, Holy Father, for so it seemed good in thy
sight."

We have copied the language just as it was written by "Uncle Benjamin,"
and it is chiefly Bible language, showing marked familiarity with the
Scriptures.

We infer, from the foregoing, that useful conversation was
characteristic of the Franklins of each generation, indicating a good
degree of intelligence and talents of high order. Ignorance does not
indulge in improving conversation; it could not if it would. Nor do
small mental powers show themselves in excellence of conversation. So
that it is quite evident that talents in the Josiah Franklin family
were not limited to Benjamin. They reached back to former generations.

Mr. Parton says: "Thomas Franklin, the elder, had four sons: Thomas,
John, Benjamin, and Josiah. There lived at Ecton, during the boyhood
of these four sons, a Mr. John Palmer, the squire of the parish and
lord of an adjacent manor, who, attracted by their intelligence and
spirit, lent them books, assisted them to lessons in drawing and
music, and, in various ways, encouraged them to improve their minds.
All the boys appear to have been greatly profited by Squire Palmer's
friendly aid; but none of them so much as Thomas, the eldest,
inheritor of the family forge and farm."

It was this Thomas who became grandfather of our Benjamin, and whose
expressions in prayer we have quoted. Mr. Parton discovers such
talents there as make profitable conversation at the table and
elsewhere, and are transmitted to posterity. For he says, still
further:

"In families destined at length to give birth to an illustrious
individual, Nature seems sometimes to make an essay of her powers with
that material, before producing the consummate specimen. There was a
remarkable Mr. Pitt before Lord Chatham; there was an extraordinary
Mr. Fox before the day of the ablest debater in Europe; there was a
witty Sheridan before Richard Brinsley; there was a Mirabeau before
the Mirabeau of the French Revolution. And, to cite a higher instance,
Shakespeare's father was, at least, extraordinarily fond of dramatic
entertainments, if we may infer any thing certain from the brief
records of his mayoralty of Stratford, for he appears to have given
the players the kind of welcome that Hamlet admonished Polonius to
bestow upon them. Thomas Franklin, the eldest uncle of our Benjamin,
learned the blacksmith's trade in his father's shop, but, aided by
Squire Palmer and his own natural aptitude for affairs, became, as his
nephew tells us, 'a conveyancer, something of a lawyer, clerk of the
county court, and clerk to the archdeacon; a very leading man in all
county affairs, and much employed in public business.'"

The quotation Mr. Parton makes, in his closing lines, is from a letter
of Benjamin Franklin, addressed to Mrs. Deborah Franklin, dated
London, 6 September, 1758. We quote still further from it, as it is
interesting matter relating to the prominence and intelligence of the
Franklin ancestors:

"From Wellingborough we went to Ecton, about three or four miles,
being the village where my father was born, and where his father,
grandfather, and great-grandfather had lived, and how many of the
family before them we know not. We went first to see the old house and
grounds; they came to Mr. Fisher with his wife, and, after letting
them for some years, finding his rent something ill-paid, he sold
them. The land is now added to another farm, and a school is kept in
the house. It is a decayed old stone building, but still known by the
name of Franklin House. Thence we went to visit the rector of the
parish, who lives close by the church--a very ancient building. He
entertained us very kindly, and showed us the old church register, in
which were the births, marriages, and burials of our ancestors for two
hundred years, as early as his book began. His wife, a good-natured,
chatty old lady (granddaughter of the famous Archdeacon Palmer, who
formerly had that parish and lived there), remembered a great deal
about the family; carried us out into the church-yard and showed us
several of their grave-stones, which were so covered with moss that we
could not read the letters till she ordered a hard brush and a basin
of water, with which Peter scoured them clean, and then Billy copied
them. She entertained and diverted us highly with stories of Thomas
Franklin, Mrs. Fisher's father, who was a conveyancer, something of a
lawyer, clerk of the county courts, and clerk to the archdeacon in his
visitations; a very leading man in all county affairs, and much
employed in public business. He set on foot a subscription for
erecting chimes in their steeple and completed it, and we heard them
play. He found out an easy method of saving their village meadows from
being drowned, as they used to be sometimes by the river, which method
is still in being; but, when first proposed, nobody could conceive how
it could be, 'but, however,' they said, 'if Franklin says he knows how
to do it, it will be done.' His advice and opinion were sought for on
all occasions, by all sorts of people, and he was looked upon, she
said, by some, as something of a conjurer. He died just four years
before I was born, on the same day of the same month."

Such kind of men are not given to foolish conversation. They are too
sensible to indulge in mere twaddle about the weather. Their talents
raise them to a higher plane of thought and remark. Josiah Franklin
only observed the custom of his ancestors, no doubt unwittingly, when
he sought to improve the minds and hearts of his children by
instructive conversation at the table and fireside. Benjamin had a
right to claim for it a decided educational influence in the family.

Pythagoras set so great value upon useful conversation that he
commanded his disciples to maintain silence during the first two years
of their instruction. He would have their minds thoroughly furnished,
that their conversation might be worthy of the pupils of so
illustrious a teacher. He was wont to say: "Be silent, or say
something better than silence." No men ever put this wise counsel into
practice more thoroughly than Josiah Franklin and his son Benjamin.

Cicero said of the mother of the Gracchi: "We have read the letters of
Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, from which it appears that the
sons were educated not so much in the lap of the mother as by her
_conversation_." Josiah Franklin had as poor an opinion of the _lap_
as an educator of his sons, in comparison with _conversation_, as
Cornelia had.

The poet Cowper wrote:

"Though conversation in its better part
May be esteemed a gift, and not an art;
Yet much depends, as in the tiller's toil,
On culture and the sowing of the soil."

Josiah Franklin was enough of a poet to understand this and reduce it
to practice. As his son said, he delighted to have some intelligent
man or woman for a guest at his table, for the improvement of his
children. But when there was no guest at the table, he led the way
alone by calling the attention of his sons and daughters to some
subject of interest and profit. He thought it would divert their
attention from the quality of their food, so that they would not be so
apt to complain of it, and, at the same time, impart information and
set them thinking. He did not allow one of his children to complain of
the food on the table, and he would have prevented it by severe
measures, if necessary. Before he found the method cited a wise one,
and therefore persevered in it. He often made this remark:

"You must give heed to little things, although nothing can be
considered small that is important. It is of far more consequence how
you behave than what you eat and wear."

Another remark he would make when the meal was unusually plain was
this:

"Many people are too particular about their victuals. They destroy
their health by eating too much and too rich food. Plain, simple,
wholesome fare is all that Nature requires, and young persons who are
brought up in this way will be best off in the end."

Here is found the origin of Benjamin's rigid temperance principles in
eating and drinking, for which he was distinguished through life. In
his manhood he wrote and talked upon the subject, and reduced his
principles to practice. There scarcely ever lived a man who was so
indifferent as to what he ate and drank as he was. When he worked in a
printing-office in England, his fellow-printers were hard drinkers of
strong beer, really believing that it was necessary to give them
strength to endure. They were astonished to see a youth like Benjamin
able to excel the smartest of them in the printing office, while he
drank only cold water, and they sneeringly called him "The Water
American."

The temperate habits which Benjamin formed in his youth were the more
remarkable because there were no temperance societies at that time,
and it was generally supposed to be necessary to use intoxicating
drinks. The evils of intemperance were not viewed with so much
abhorrence as they are now, and the project of removing them from
society was not entertained for a moment. Reformatory movements of
this kind did not begin until nearly a century after the time referred
to. Yet Benjamin was fully persuaded in his youth that he ought to be
temperate in all things. It was a theme of conversation at his
father's table and fireside. That conversation instructed him then, as
temperance lectures, books, and societies instruct the young now; and
it accomplished its purpose. In the sequel we shall learn still more
of the moulding power of home lessons, in conversation, to make him
the man he became.

It is related of the Washburne family, so well known in the public
affairs of our country, four or five brothers having occupied posts of
political distinction, that, in their early life, their father's house
was open to ministers, and was sometimes called "the ministers'
hotel." Mr. Washburne was a great friend of this class, and enjoyed
their society much. Nearly all the time some one of the ministerial
fraternity would be stopping there. His sons were thus brought into
their society, and they listened to long discussions upon subjects of
a scientific, political, and religious character, though public
measures received a large share of attention. The boys acquired
valuable information by listening to their remarks, and this created a
desire to read and learn more; and so they were started off in a
career that "led them on to fame." Their early advantages were few,
but the conversation of educated gentlemen, upon important subjects,
laid the foundation of their eminence in public life.

Benjamin was young, and his heart easily impressed, when he listened
to profitable conversation in the home of his boyhood. The way the
twig is bent the tree is inclined. His father gave the twig the right
bent, and the tree was comely and fruitful. It was a very easy and
cheap mode of instruction, always at hand, needing neither text-book
nor blackboard, yet pleasant and uplifting.

X.

LEADER OF SPORTS AND THOUGHT.

It is unusual that the same boy should be a leader in nearly all
innocent sports, and, at the same time, the most thoughtful and
studious boy of all. Generally, the fun-loving youth is an indifferent
scholar,--having little taste for reading and study. But it was
otherwise with Benjamin. He was as much of an expert in sport as he
was in reading,--the best jumper, runner, swimmer, and rower of his
age in Boston. And he enjoyed it, too. Perhaps he enjoyed being the
best more than any part of the sport. Certainly, when he was in
school, he enjoyed being the _best_ scholar more than any part of a
pupil's experience; and he so managed to continue the best to the end,
though the end came much too soon for him.

Swimming was his favorite sport. It was claimed for him that, any time
between twelve and sixteen years of age, he could have swam across the
Hellespont. Here, as well as elsewhere, his inventive genius was
devising ways to promote more rapid swimming.

"I believe that I can double my speed in swimming by an invention I
have in mind," he said to John Collins, one day.

"What sort of an invention? You are always up to something of that
sort. I think that arms and legs are all the invention that will ever
promote swimming, slow or fast."

"Well, you see, John, if I do not invent something to greatly increase
speed in swimming," continued Benjamin. "I have been studying on it
for some time, and I think I have it."

"You do not need anything to increase your speed, Ben; you can beat
everybody now, and you ought to be satisfied with that."

"I am not satisfied. I want to do better yet. I never did so well in
anything yet that I did not want to do better."

Right here was really the secret of Benjamin's success,--trying to do
better to-morrow than to-day, not satisfied with present attainments,
pressing forward to something more desirable, going up higher. Such
boys and girls succeed. Difficulties do not alarm or discourage
them--they serve to draw them out and make them more invincible. But
youth who are satisfied to be just what they are to-day, no larger,
broader, or better, live and die mere ciphers. They are destitute of
ambition and the spirit of enterprise. They have no just conception of
their mission in this world. They do not understand themselves,--what
they are for and what they can be if they choose. What is worse, they
have no desire to know these things; the effort to know them is too
much for their easy, indifferent natures.

"I guess that is so," replied John, to Benjamin's last remark. "I
never saw a boy just like you; and I think you are right. I want to
know more than I do about many things, and I mean to. But what sort of
a swimming apparatus have you in mind?"

"Well, a sort of palette for the hands and sandals for the feet,
fastened tightly so as to be used readily. I have an idea that I can
throw myself forward with far greater speed."

"I will wait to see it before I pass judgment on it," answered John.
"It is risking more than I want to risk to say you can't do it; for
there is no telling what you can do."

"You will see it in a few days; it will not take long to make it. I
will notify you when it is ready, and we will try it. In the mean time
keep it a secret, and we will astonish the boys."

Within a few days John Collins was notified that the swimming
apparatus was ready, and would be tried at a certain time appointed.
Other boys were invited to meet at the pond at the same time.

Benjamin appeared on the scene with two oval palettes of wood,
resembling those used by painters, ten inches long and six broad. A
hole was cut in each for the thumb, so that they could be bound to the
palms of the hands. A kind of sandal, shaped somewhat like the
palettes, was fastened tightly to each foot. When rigged for a swim,
Benjamin presented a very singular appearance, and the boys looked on
astonished.

"That is _you_, all over, Ben," exclaimed Fred; "no one in creation
except you would ever have thought of such an apparatus. But I
wouldn't wish myself in the water with such a rig. You are a sort of
skipper on legs, now."

"I do not expect to skip much on the water, but I expect to swim much
faster with this device than would be possible without it," replied
Benjamin.

"It is different from what I thought it was from your description,"
said John Collins, who had been looking on with particular interest.
"It looks as if you might do something with it. Go ahead, Ben, sink or
swim, spread your sails and prove that your ingenuity is genuine."

Benjamin plunged into the water, and a more interested and excited
company did not watch Robert Fulton when he started up Hudson river
with his new steamer, eighty years later, than watched him with his
new mode of swimming. He struck right out into deep water easily, and
moved forward much more rapidly than he ever did before, the cheers
and shouts of the boys making the welkin ring. Taking a circuit around
the pond for a fair trial, the boys had a good opportunity to watch
every movement and to judge of the practicability of such an
invention.

"That is wonderful," exclaimed one, as he came around to the shore
where they stood.

"You are a genius, Ben," shouted another.

"Capital," added John Collins. "King George ought to make a duke of
you. But does it work easy?"

"Not so easily as I expected," answered Benjamin. "The apparatus is
hard on the wrists, and makes them ache. The sandals on the feet do
not help much. I think I could swim just as well without them."

"Then you do not consider it a complete success?" said John,
inquiringly.

"Not entirely so. I can swim very much faster with it, but it is
harder work, and the wrists will not hold out long. I do not think I
shall apply to King George for a patent."

The swimming invention was pretty thoroughly discussed by the boys,
one and another suggesting improvements, Benjamin evidently satisfied
that swimming at less speed in the usual way was preferable to these
artificial paddles and increased rapidity. But their interest was
awakened anew when Benjamin informed them that he had another
invention that he proposed to try at a future day.

"What is it?" inquired two or three at the same time.

"You shall see; it is more simple than this apparatus," replied
Benjamin. "It will not be so tiresome to use."

"When will you let us see it on trial?" asked John Collins, who,
perhaps, appreciated Benjamin's spirit and talents more than any of
the boys.

"Any time you will all agree to be here. You will not know what it is
until you see it."

The time was appointed for the trial of the unknown device, and the
boys separated with their curiosity on tiptoe as to the nature of the
other improved method of swimming. They had no idea that it was a
humbug, for "Ben" never practised sham. He was so much of a genius
that, no doubt, he had something that would surprise them.

John Collins was more like Benjamin than other boys in Boston, and he
was his most intimate companion. John was talented, and a great
reader. He had a craving thirst for knowledge, and used his leisure
moments to improve his mind. He frequently discussed profitable
subjects with Benjamin, who enjoyed his company very much for this
reason. In their tastes, love of books, and high aims, they were
suited to each other. Benjamin thought as highly of John as John did
of Benjamin.

When the time for trying the other device arrived, Benjamin appeared
on the scene with a new kite.

"A kite!" exclaimed John Collins, in surprise. "I see it now. That
_is_ simple." He saw at once that Benjamin was going to make a sail of
his kite, and cross the pond.

"'T will hinder more than it will help, I think," remarked one of the
boys.

"We shall know whether it will or not, very soon," responded another.
"Ben isn't hindered very often."

While this parleying was going on, Benjamin was disrobing and getting
ready for the trial.

"Fred, you carry my clothes around to the other side of the pond, and
I will swim across," said Benjamin, as he sent his kite up into the
air.

"All right," answered Fred; "I will do it to the best of my ability;
and I will be there to see you land." So saying he caught up the
clothes and started off upon the run.

The kite was high up in the air, when, holding the string with both
hands, Benjamin dropped into the water upon his back, and at once
began to skim the surface. Without an effort on his part, not so much
as the moving of a muscle, the sailing kite pulled him along faster
than his arms and feet could have done in the old way of swimming.

"That is better than the paddles and sandals," shouted John Collins,
who was intensely interested in the simplicity of the method. "Ben is
only a ship, now, and the kite is his sail. Nobody but him would ever
thought of such a thing."

"Not much skill in that way of swimming," suggested another youth;
"nor much fatigue, either. Nothing to do but to keep on breathing and
swim."

"And hold on to the kite," added another. "He must not let go of his
sail; he and his kite must be close friends."

The boys kept up their watch and conversation while Benjamin crossed
the pond, which he accomplished in a few minutes. Dressing himself,
while Fred drew in his kite, he hastened to join his companions and
receive their congratulations. The boys were extravagant in their
expressions of delight, and some of them predicted that so "cute" a
mode of swimming would become universal, while others thought that the
lack of skill in the method would lead many to discard it. Benjamin
said:

"The motion is very pleasant indeed, and I could swim all day without
becoming fatigued. But there is no skill in it, as you say."

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