YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

THE TEMPLE
AUTOBIOGRAPH lES
EDITED BY
W. MACDONALD.
Previously Publisked.
THE LIFE OF BENVENUTO
CELLINI. Told by Himself.
Edited and Newly Translated
by Anne Macdonell. 2 Vols.
THE LIFE OF HECTOR
BERLIOZ. Told in his
Letters and Journals.
Edited and Newly Translated
by Katharine Boult.
Cloth Extra^ Gilt Top, $1.25 net
per Vol.

.^.^-^y-.-JRif;

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF
BENJAMIN
FRANKLIN
NOW FIRST PRINTED IN ENGLAND FROM
THE FULL AND AUTHENTIC TEXT

(k

EDITED
WITH A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE
AND AN HISTORICAL ACCOUNT
OF
FRANKLIN'S LATER LIFE
BY
WILLIAM MACDONALD

~>

LONDON
J. M. DENT & CO.
NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.
I 905

AU rights reserved.

CONTENTS
PAGE
Preface ........ ix
Franklin's Draft Scheme of the Autobiography i
The Autobiography ...... 5
Some Account of Franklin's Later Life . . 205

ILLUSTRATIONS
Benjamin Franklin (in 1777) . Frontispiece
From an engraving by A. de St Aubin, after the
portrait by Cochin (^Photogravure)
Old House in Milk Street where
Benjamin Franklin was Born . facing page 26
From a drawing taken shortly before it was
burnt down in 1810
Benjamin Franklin (in 1783) . facing page 276
From an engraving by J. Thomson, after the
portrait by Duplessis

PREFACE
Though the Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
has been for over a hundred years a familiar and
accepted English classic, this is the first occasion on
which an edition containing the authentic text of
this celebrated work has been given to the world
by an English publishing house. This will seem
strange news to most readers ; and indeed there is
a long and interesting story to tell in connection
with it. That story fills very pleasantly some eighty
prefatory pages in Mr Bigelow's " Life of Franklin ";
but here our generosity must be more frugal, our
entertainment more hurried.
It was in 177 1 > in the seventh year of his second
mission to England, and while spending a holiday at
the country-seat of his friend, Jonathan Shipley,
Bishop of St Asaph, that Franklin set about writing
some Recollections of his family and his own early
life. The composition was addressed to his son
William, at that time Governor of New Jersey, and
was not intended to come under the eyes of the
general world at all. The work, needless to say,
gained a great deal by having thus originated as a
sort of holiday gaiety, a long retrospective chat,
a budget of personal and moral memoranda, written
for the gratification and the uses of his own folk at
home. It does not appear that he had any thought
of carrying the story further than the point which
he brought it down to — namely, as far as page 84
of the present volume — in the course of this holiday
labour. Apparently, he sent it to his son not long
after, and thought no more about it. And, indeed,
b ix

PREFACE
he soon had plenty to think about ; for the difficult
and troublous course of the public business with
which he was presently connected was matter enough
to engage his whole attention. Then came his re
turn to America, and the vivid and laborious days of
the commencing Revolution. We next see him,
with scarce a breathing space allowed, spirited back
into the Old World to take up a new career of
labours, difficulties, and anxieties, almost without
parallel. But toward the end of this time an extra
ordinary thing happened ; the manuscript which he
had written at the Bishop of St Asaph's some twelve
years earher, was returned to him from America by
a Pennsylvanian Quaker, Mr Abel James, into whose
hands it had fallen. Through what adventures it
had passed in the interval we do not know, but
assuredly they were not without peril to a small
sheaf of papers. At the beginning of the war the
Governor of New Jersey had, as became his office,
if not his birth, stood for the King against both his
father and his country, and had behaved with so
much provocation and defiance that his career, until
he finally found his way to England, was, to say the
least, not a comfortable one. There was a good
deal of imprisonment ; a good deal of hustling from
this place to that ; and, of course, confiscation, with
the impounding or the scattering and destroying of
papers. However, this paper, as the reader will
see on turning to page 85, found its way into very
good hands.
The desire so seriously expressed by Mr James
that this " so pleasing and profitable work " might
be " continued up to a later period " was fully shared
by the friends, both French and English — Mr
Benjamin Vaughan and Dr Price, M. le Veillard,
the Due de la Rochefoucault, and others — to whom
Franklin now showed the recovered manuscript.
From this moment these were insistent in their de-

PREFACE
mands upon him, their entreaties, that he would
recognise the finishing of these Memoirs as the
chief duty which he owed to the world. So in 1784,
when a greater work to which he had set his hand
at a later time had just been happily concluded —
when Independence was won, and peace negotiated,
and his country accepted by all the world as a nation
among the rest — he now yielded to the instance of
these friends and set about to complete the Memoirs
of his Life. What he was able to add at this time,
however, while still residing at Passy, only amounts
to eighteen pages (pp. 92-1 10) of the present volume.
In the following year he returned to America ; and
his enthusiastic friends in Europe were compensated
a little for the loss of his company by the hope that
now he would be able to complete those Memoirs
at last. But again his country forbade. In spite of
age and intense physical sufferings, never long inter
mitted, he was dragged again into the conflict and
toil of public life ; so that for three years his Euro
pean friends, ceaselessly importuning him in the
same old cause, got little comfort in return except
his promises and his hopes. During that time public
affairs claimed practically every hour which was
rendered effective by the intermissions of his malady.
At last, in the late summer of 1788, he was able to
take up the long interrupted work and made such
headway that he brought the account down to page
199 as it is here printed. But after this, there was
never again such an interval. The crushing pressure
of pain was harder upon him than heretofore and
left him fewer moments in which he could have the
confidence to take up again a work requiring such a
command of material and so many powers of the
mind. Towards the end of the following year, the
old man, reluctantly yet uncomplainingly, surrenders
the last hope of ever being able to finish the work
now. But he tells M. le Veillard that his grandson
xi

PREFACE
is making a copy, as far as it goes, which shall be
sent to him. Another copy was sent about the same
time to Benjamin Vaughan, but what became of it
is unknown. Franklin died in the following April,
and the bulk of his books, papers, and manuscripts,
including the Autobiography, was bequeathed to
his grandson, William Temple Franklin.
iUready, it will be seen, the Autobiography affords
an instance of the adage habent et sua fata libelli. As
a manuscript, it has had its strange fortunes. As a
book, it is to have more. And even of its history
as a manuscript, we shall find, there is something
further to tell when the last word seems to have
been said.
Seldom has an unpublished book been expected
with so intense an interest, been waited for with
such impatience, as Dr Franklin's Memoirs of his
Life : for so the work was generally called. The
world wanted it at once, and seemed to count the
days till it should be published. It had to count so
many, that a great percentage of the enumerators
died at their post. It is true that young Temple
Franklin showed a lively sense of the value of the
bequest which his grandfather had left him, and
that within a month after his grandfather's death he
wrote to M. le Veillard of his intention to bring out
a complete edition of the Works and Correspondence
at an early date. Nay more ; he came to England a
few weeks later, expressly to arrange this publication.
But then a wonderful thing occurred. Though
still apparently bent on bringing out the edition, and
still exceedingly anxious lest M. le Veillard should
permit his MS. copy of the Memoirs to come into
the hands or under the eyes of any one else, who
might purloin or pirate the same, and so impair the
value of the bequest for him — he yet suddenly
engages himself for three or four months (at a salary,
he says) in some mysterious business to which all
xii

PREFACE
other interests have to be postponed, and by which
he earns, in that time, a clear ;^70oo, for what
services no man knows.
Now the fact may not mean much, but it is at
least a curious fact that from the moment when he
has concluded this most remunerative and mysterious
engagement, he begins to display an indifferent zeal
in regard to the business which had brought him to
England, the publication of his grandfather's works.
To M. le Veillard, who is dissatisfied with the
reasons for this delay and is privileged to say so,
he answers more pertly than is quite becoming in
the grandson of his grandfather to such a friend ;
but tells him (Feb. 28, 1792) that " I am now
almost entirely employed in bringing forward the
English edition. ... A few months will, I hope,
satisfy your impatience and the public curiosity."
But after that there is sUence. M. le Veillard,
Gentilhomme ordinaire du Rot, died on the revolutionary
scaffold in 1794- -^y ^'® demise it was doubtless
rendered easier for Temple Franklin to neglect, or
to go on deferring, the duties of piety, than would
else have been the case. There were those among
the living, however, who interested themselves in
the matter still. In France it was confidently
asserted, as early as 1 79 1, that the Memoirs were
to be suppressed because the son and grandson
of the great philosopher and statesman were ashamed
of his humble beginnings and his homely style.
This, of course, was a wildly uninformed venture
of the imagination. But as time wore on, and still
Franklin's Works did not appear (that is to say, the
authoritative and complete, likewise apocalyptic
edition thereof — for unauthoritative editions of
Franklin's Works, in English and other languages,
there were by the dozen presently), another ex
planation obtained credence, and was openly alleged.
For example, in the Preface to a handsome edition
xiii

PREFACE
published by Longmans in 1 806, Temple Franklin
was accused of having carried his grandfather s un
published Works and Correspondence to a better
market for such wares than Paternoster Row, and
of having made a very good thing of it. He had,
in fact, sold his trust to the British Government,
and suppressed, if not destroyed, the whole mass of
Franklin's unpublished remains for a great price.
In July of that year the Edinburgh Review quoted
this terrible impeachment in full, and supported it.
The same charge was repeated in other quarters.
Only once did Temple Franklin publicly take notice
of these public attacks, and then he chose (in 1807),
as the platform on which to defend himself, the
pages of an exquisitely obscure English print, pub
lished in Paris. If feeling against him was, high
in this country, it was higher stUl in France. There
the admirers of Franklin .were filled with that
peculiar horror with which the Latin races regard
parricide. That was the word used to describe the
conduct of this young man ; and even ^yhen, at the
end of time {i.e. in 1817) it was announced that
the edition was at last about to appear, the true
Franklinians of France would not believe that there
was other than a sinister motive for this publication,
so tardy as it was. It would be found to be a
carefully mutilated collection, contrived at once so
as to misrepresent the great man, to conceal the
ignominy of his enemies, and to impair the authority
and success of the more faithful French edition
which the reader had now the privilege of beholding.
" The glory of belittling a great man, of abridging
Franklin," cries M. Charles Malo, "has been
reserved' for one of his descendants. Ought we to
inherit from one we have assassinated ? " To a
generation thus hostile did Temple Franklin deliver
his work, which was published in two forms (a
quarto and an octavo form) simultaneously, by
xiv

PREFACE
Colburne, of London. It was far from being a
complete edition, but the publisher was probably
more to blame for that than the editor. And
whatever he had suppressed — if he had suppressed
anything — here was the Autobiography, given at
last, in full, and for the first time in Franklin's own
English. These words need an explanation, for which we
must turn back a little. I have already referred to
the anxiety of the legatee in regard to the evil uses
that might be made of the copy which had been
given to M. le Veillard in September 1789. He
feared the French translator only less than the
English pirate. The first of these fears was pro
phetic. In 1 79 1 there was published at Paris an
anonymous translation of the work, as far as to the
beginning of the paragraph (p. 84) about the founding
of the Philadelphia Library. Shortly afterwards,
two separate translations from this book were pub
lished in London, and continued to be re-published
in succeeding ages. Some of the copies of what
professes to be Franklin's Autobiography even now
on sale are really reprints of one or other of these
English translations of a French translation of an
English manuscript. A still more attenuated degree
of authenticity was reached when, in 1798, there
appeared at Paris an edition of Franklin's works,
" traduit de I'anglais, avec des notes, par J. Castera."
This gentleman had fallen in with one of the English
versions aforesaid; and, supposing it to be the
original work, he translated it anew for the purposes
of his edition : in which, therefore, we have a
French translation of an English translation of a
French translation of an English manuscript. Here
the brain begins to reel, and a sense of the ultimate
baselessness and unsubstantiality of things invades
the soul even of the general reader. But, courage,
mon ami ! Surely there is a place of rest in the year
XV

PREFACE
1817 — surely we have in W. Temple Franklin's
edition every word of the Autobiography that
Benjamin Franklin wrote, and no words but his
own. So the world really thought for a space of fifty
years ; and then there was made that discovery
which it is the business of this^ Preface to make
common knowledge henceforth to all the enlightened
inhabitants of these islands.
It came about in this manner. One day in the
summer of 1866, the Hon. John Bigelow, at that time
American Ambassador to the French Court, happened
to have to dinner a number of men-of-letters.
Amongst them was that accomplished litterateur
and publicist, M. Edouard Laboulaye, who had lately
edited a selection from Franklin's writings. This
introducing the general topic, Mr Bigelow took the
opportunity of saying a word to those wise men on
a matter that had been a good deal in his mind for
some time. He wanted to know what had become
of the MS. of Franklin's Autobiography, and whether
one could not find it if one looked around in that
country. He himself believed that, unless it had
been destroyed, which seemed unlikely, the incom
parable document was at that moment in France,
and had been there from the beginning of the century
at least. Not to give all his reasons for so thinking,
I will mention two historical facts on which he
based. First, it had been in France early in the
century ; for Sir Samuel Roniilly had seen it there
in 1802, and has left a description of it in his Diary.
Second, it was evidently well taken care of; for it
had been seen again about fifteen or sixteen years
ago by a well-known American book-collector : this
was in some French town, though what town Mr
Bigelow could not then say. From these premises
the only conclusion seemed to be that the manuscript
was discoverable upon search being made. M.
xvi

PREFACE
Laboulaye smd he would make inquiries, and if the
thing was in France, he thought he should be able
to trace it. Six months passed, nothing had come of
this conversation, and it was time for Mr Bigelow to
be getting home. Amongst his farewell calls was
one to M. Laboulaye ; who had still no findings to
report, but had engaged some members of the
Academy in the quest and was in good hopes.
About a month later (on January 19, 1867) Mr
Bigelow, being then in London, received from
him a letter which began with the joyful phrase
" Eureka ! " and went on to give the address of
the owner of the manuscript and of some other
valuable Franklin relics. Mr Bigelow at once
wrote to " my cherished friend the late William H.
Huntington, in Paris," who seems to have been a
man worth living to know. Him he invested with
the powers of an Envoy-plenipotentiary, to treat
with the present possessors of part of the birthright
of all Americans. It turned out that these possessors
were the representatives of the Le Veillard family,
M. Paul and M. George Senarmont, both of Paris.
The negotiations were therefore conducted (as far
as the need for despatch allowed) with the degree of
consideration due to the feelings of a family so
excellent, and the surrender was arranged in such
a way as to reduce to its mildest form the sense of
bereavement. In a word, the Messieurs de Senar
mont had been waiting for a purchaser of the
heirlooms at 25,000 francs. "A large price, it is
true," says Mr Bigelow, " but a price that did not
seem to me beyond their value to an American."
To a good American, certainly not ; though doubt
less there are soulless misers and some criminals in
that country as in others. Untrammelled by these
baser thoughts, however, and strengthened by the
possession of Mr Bigelow's cheque for the amount
named, Mr Huntington carried through the whole
xvii

PREFACE
legal and commercial business connected with the
purchasing, packing and despatching of "The le
Veillard Collection " in a single day, that day being
the 27th of January 1867 : nor has any international
transaction of equal importance been so gaily
chronicled as he has chronicled this one in his
letters to Mr Bigelow. May he so smile for
ever, though no longer in Paris ; and here below
let him have honourable mention wherever this
story is told.
The collection consisted of three items : (i) a
small batch of Letters ; (2) a new Portrait of
Franklin; (3) an autograph MS. of the Auto
biography. Regarding the Letters I need only say
that a few were from Franklin and the rest from
members of his family. All were addressed to M.
le Veillard, and they afford information, which we
should not have found elsewhere, regarding Franklin's
last attempts to continue the Memoirs, and also
regarding the peculiar action, or inaction, of W.
Temple Franklin in the matter of bringing out the
Works. Of the Portrait it is the less necessary to
give an account, because by the great kindness of
Mr Bigelow a reproduction of it appears as the
frontispiece to this volume. The original is a pastel
of undoubted authenticity, done in 1783 by Joseph
Siffred Duplessis, an Academician and a portraitist
of very high repute in his generation. The picture
was a parting gift from Franklin to his friend and
neighbour M. le Veillard, who was a gentleman-in-
ordinary to the King, and the Mayor of Passy. A
portrait of Frankhn was named in the lists of
Duplessis' works, but it was lost to the world tlU
Mr Bigelow brought it back to light.
Of the Manuscript it is necessary to speak more
fully. There are those who have builded wiser than
they knew, and others who have found better things
than they sought. To the latter category of the
xviii

PREFACE
fortunate belongs Mr Bigelow. He had wished to
recover the MS. of Franklin's Autobiography, merely
out of regard to the sentimental interest attaching
to a document having such rich associations — bio
graphical, historical, literary — for an American,
and not at all because he supposed that the MS.
would reveal anything concerning the history of the
book or add a page to those " Memoirs of Franklin,
written by Himself," which had so long been a
familiar English classic. Careful inspection showed,
however, that in both these respects the newly found
MS. was a document rhjelateur.
For here there was, in the first place, a considerable
positive addition. The Autobiography, as published
in 1817, breaks off with the arrival of Franklin in
London in 1 757 ; whereas here the story was con
tinued to the conclusion, in 1762, of that Pennsyl
vanian business which had brought him to this
country. The matter of this continuation was, as a
fact, not quite new, though the actual words were
now first verified. A French translation published
in 1828 had contained this final portion, and the
editor explained that it had been communicated to
him by the le Veillard family. How the le Veillard
family came to be able to communicate anything of
the sort was much of a mystery ; but the historical
certification given to Mr Bigelow along with his
purchases by the Messieurs de Senarmont now ex
plained all. The MS. in their possession was not
the copy sent to M. le Veillard by Franklin in
September 1 789, but Franklin's own original copy
in his own handwriting, with all his own corrections,
erasures, and marginal comments. These addita-
ments — the use of a Lamb word is privileged here,
for more reasons than its correctness — these addita-
ments, which increased the interest of the document
for the true devotee so greatly, had been in rather
an odd way the cause of its preservation. When
xix

PREFACE
Temple Franklin at last took steps to publish his
grandfather's Works, he wished to have a fair copy of
the Memoirs " for the printers." And being one of
these editors — so exceptional, and extraordinary, and
fortunate ! — who do not fatigue themselves, he coolly
asked the le Veillard family to let him have the use
of theirs. At this they very naturally exclaimed,
and reminded him of the interest and preciousness to
them of this souvenir of their illustrious friend,
which they were asked to give up. " Oh, as to
that," said the very Anglo-Saxon young man, " you
can have my copy in exchange ; which is not a ' copy '
at all, but the original autograph, and so, you see,
much more of a souvenir than your own." The
conversation has not been officially reported, any
more than the great speeches in Thucydides, but no
doubt these were the very words. In this way, at
any rate, the exchange was made. But Mr Temple
Franklin, who did not fatigue himself, had not
troubled to compare the two manuscripts, and so
had failed to remark that the one which he was
giving away contained an important addition (besides
the additaments aforesaid) not to be found in the one
which he was getting in return. And this difference
between the two manuscripts is just what, with our
present knowledge from other sources, we should
be able to affirm without having seen either of them.
For we know that when Franklin caused a copy to
be sent to le Veillard in September 1789, he had
then brought the story down to June 1757, and con
sidered that he had now done all he would ever be
able to do to it. But we also know that in November
he had another rally of courage or confidence, and was
trying bravely to go on again, and had even some
momentary hopes of completing his task yet. What
ever additions resulted from this final effort, they
would appear in the autograph copy which he kept
beside him, and would be absent from both of those
XX

PREFACE
fair copies which were sent to Europe in September.
Yet it was from one of these more imperfect copies
that Temple Franklin, in forgetfulness rather than
indifference, was electing to print. The great lapse
of time during which he had kept back the publica
tion would account for this forgetfulness, and thus
the pieties neglected invoked a nemesis of a sort ;
for in the end he was not the possessor of the
Complete Autobiography after all, jealously as he
had wished to guard that right.
But a detailed comparison of the work as it exists
in manuscript and the book as it was given to the
world by Temple Franklin, revealed a more im
portant difference between the two. It revealed a
pervading lack of identity. In the act of publication,
the text had been tampered with throughout. Not
only Franklin's spelling and punctuation had been
departed from, but a running commentary of silent
alterations, corrections, and suppressions of Franklin's
own words had been inflicted on every page of the
book. Mr Bigelow gives the number of these
changes as 1200 in all. They appear to have been
in no case dictated by malevolence or by any motive
more considerable than the sempiternal impertinence
of youth and modernity. The young man was of
his own generation, and not of his grandfather's ; he
was of a generation which abounded in complete
letter-writers, and for which the word "elegant"
had an unction that has somehow evaporated for us.
The manner of speech which was good enough for
the grandfather seenied to the grandson, so differ
ently nurtured, to be a trifle untrimmed, homely,
sometimes perhaps coarse. Where Franklin can
talk of some one "having got a naughty girl with
child," the young gentleman of a more modest age
can but speak of "having had an intrigue with a
young woman of bad character." Where Benjamin
talks of " footing it to London," the politer Temple
xxi

PREFACE
substitutes " walking." A great many are of this
character ; but a vast number are even more
gratuitous. They consist in substituting for the
idiomatic, racy, vernacular diction of Franklin- —
Franklin, who is an Augustan, but has an affinity
with stronger writers than the Augustans — some
thing that was in more complete accord with the
recognised correctnesses of polite letterpress in the
early Nineteenth Century. I have not room for a
detailed citation of passages in parallel columns, but
what I have said will put the Reader in a way to
understand how greatly we are indebted to Mr
Bigelow for his kindness in permitting us to use
for this edition the True Text of the Auto
biography, as published by him in 1 868 and
subsequently.^ The composition of the book has
been done from a copy of his 3rd Edition, published
by Messrs J. B. Lippincott Company, to whom also
acknowledgments and thanks are due.
A word, finally, regarding my own contribution
to this volume. I have sought to make it in some
1 Be it added that these improving touches are the only acts of
parricide of which the maligned and ill-used Temple Franklin
can be convicted. The accusation of having made his grand
father's literary remains the subject of a nefarious deal with the
British Government has never been made good. The only piece
of positive evidence in favour of the idea is this : that Jefferson
speaks of having read a certain passage in the MS. of Franklin's
account of the Secret Negotiations carried on during the winter
'774'5 i which passage does not appear in the printed version.
But I do not think this at all conclusive, in the face of many facts
pointing the other way. The delay in bringing out the Edition
can be explained on grounds more credible and creditable than
those alleged by enemies and enthusiasts. The young man's
father was alive, an exiled loyalist, living in England, subsisting
on i pension from the King. Here was an influence ; here also
considerations of prudence, even of seemliness. And as a fact it
was immediately after his father's death, and not till then, that
Temple Franklin set about, in earnest, the business which had
brought him to Europe nearly thirty years earlier. He died soon
afterwards, xxii

PREFACE
degree complementary to the Autobiography; but
what I mean by complementary needs to be ex
plained. If there are few more charming or veracious
books in the world than Franklin's account of his
own life, there is perhaps no other book of its kind
so insufficient — no other which gives, with all its
appearance of unity and coherence, so fragmentary
an impression of the whole man as he really was.
This is not due merely to the fact that the book was
unfinished, but far more to the fact that the man —
the whole man — was so wonderful both from the
point of view of character and of career. The
Autobiography teUs us much about a certain busy
and notable and well-doing citizen of Philadelphia ;
and perhaps even of that civic character the dimen
sions are understated, by an effect of modesty
in the chronicler of his doings. But it tells us
nothing of a great and famous man of science ; it
tells us nothing of a revered philosopher, of a man
of massive wisdom, vast toleration, endless patience,
inexhaustible courage and endurance, and matchless
in security and counsel ; nor anything of a man of
so rare and full social qualities that there was no
such companion as he, and the record of his friend
ships would almost fill a book. And as for a certain
Great and Illustrious Franklin — the most famous
patriot, the wisest statesman, the most successful
diplomatist of his age, a man whose presence in the
world filled the mind of his generation — it does not
afford us a hint that such an one ever existed. To
make up for all these biographical and historical
deficiencies of a confessed literary classic would be
impossible in less than two volumes. Having to
choose and to forego, I have chosen to treat of that
aspect and period of Franklin's life which stands in
most vivid contrast with the picture presented to us
in the pages of the Autobiography. My subject is
the historical Franklin, the Franklin with whose
xxiii

PREFACE
name " all Europe rang from side to side." Of
necessity, the result is a composition fully more
compact of history than of biography, for that was.
the atmosphere in which he lived. The labour has
been to leave out, and yet preserve continuity ; also
so to write that the uninformed in these matters
should be able to read with some comprehension and
interest, and that those who know might not find the
whole thing superfluous.
As to sympathy, that will depend on whether
they agree with the Gods or Cato. For on this
occasion I agree with the Gods.
W, M.
London, October 25, 1904.

XXIV

FRANKLIN'S DRAFT SCHEME OF THE
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
[Copie d'un Projet tres Curieux de Benjamin Franklin —
!"¦« Esquisse de ses Memoires. Les additions a I'encre
rouge sont de la main de Franklin.^ ^
My writing. Mrs Dogood's letters. Differences arise
between my Brother and me (his temper and mine) ; their
cause in general. His Newspaper. The Prosecution he
suffered. My Examination. Vote of Assembly. His
manner of evading it. Whereby I became free. My
attempt to get employ with other Printers. He prevents
me. Our frequent pleadings before our Father. The
final Breach. My Inducements to quit Boston. Manner
of coming to a Resolution. My leaving him and going to
New York (return to eating flesh) ; thence to Penn
sylvania. The journey, and its events on the Bay, at
Amboy. The road. Meet with Dr Brown. His char
acter. His great work. At Burlington. The Good
Woman. On the River. My Arrival at Philadelphia.
First Meal and first Sleep. Money left. Employment.
Lodging. First acquaintance with my afterward Wife.
With J. Ralph. With Keimer. Their characters.
Osborne. Watson. The Governor takes notice of me.
The Occasion and Manner. His character. Offers
to set me up. My return to Boston. Voyage and
accidents. Reception. My Father dislikes the proposal.
I return to New York and Philadelphia. Governor
Burnet. J. Collins. The Money for Vernon. The
Governor's Deceit. Collins not finding employment goes
to Barbados much in my Debt. Ralph and I go to
^This memorandum, probably in the handwriting of M. le
Veillard, immediately precedes the Outline in the MS. — B.
A I

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
England. Disappointment of Governor's Letters. Colonel
French his Friend. Cornwallis's Letters. Cabbin.
Denham. Hamilton. Arrival in England. Get em
ployment. Ralph not. He is an expense to me. Ad
ventures in England. Write a Pamphlet and print loo.
Schemes. Lyons. Dr Pemberton. My diligence, and
yet poor through Ralph. My Landlady. Her character.
Wygate. Wilkes. Gibber. Plays. Books I borrowed.
Preachers I heard. Redmayne. At Watts's. Temper
ance. Ghost. Conduct and Influence among the Men.
Persuaded by Mr Denham to return with him to Phila
delphia and be his clerk. Our voyage and arrival. My
resolutions in Writing. My Sickness. His Death.
Found D. R. married. Go to work again with Keimer.
Terms. His ill-usage of me. My Resentment. Saying
of Decow. My Friends at Burlington. Agreement with
H. Meredith to set up in Partnership. Do so. Success
with the Assembly. Hamilton's Friendship. Sewell's
History. Gazette. Paper money. Webb. Writing
Busy Body. Breintnal. Godfrey. His character.
Suit against us. Offer of my Friends, Coleman and
Grace. Continue the Business, and M. goes to Carolina.
Pamphlet on Paper Money. Gazette from Keimer.
Junto credit ; its plan. Marry, Library erected. Manner
of conducting the project. Its plan and utility. Children.
Almanac. The use I made of it. Great industry. Con
stant study. Father's Remark and Advice upon Diligence.
Carolina Partnership. Learn French and German.
Journey to Boston after ten years. Affection of my
Brother. His Death, and leaving me his Son. Art of
Virtue. Occasion. City Watch amended. Post-office.
Spotswood. Bradford's Behaviour. Clerk of Assembly.
Lose one of my Sons. Project of subordinate Juntos.
Write occasionally in the papers. Success in Business.
Fire companies. Engines. Go again to Boston in 1743.
See Dr Spence. Whitefield. My connection with him.
His generosity to me. My returns. Church Differences,
My part in them. Propose a College. Not then pro
secuted. Propose and establish a Philosophical Society.
War. Electricity. My first knowledge of it. Partner
ship with D. Hall, etc. Dispute in Assembly upon
2

HIS DRAFT gCHEilE
Drfrnrr, Proiect for ii. Pliia T—'l.. Its tzczea-i.
Tec diocKad ^£en zsiuri zad dij.~lir.cd. l^rj'zrrsi.
Batterf bdlu Ker Cii-ic. Mv LLTiieiiCE — ii:t Co-.:ici_
Cokm, Derices, ir-: Moaos, Ladies' ^tl^iirj Wk^^-,
Q-2.k^Tj dioaec c: the C-.r:Eic:: Cc:lcciL P^ :^ the
cc^ — r.i.vica k -Ji; peace. Lopi fot^ of nit. Hii
LEbrarr. Ap-^irtsd Poatmsjar-GeneiaL CL&je::
AsaetniiTsiar. Cc— .— .:5.^:;>i:er io res: wii Ljdiasj it
CiT^ie sod ai Eaa^-::. P.-o'ec: aid e3--iili=ii Aca.ieniT.
PaaKhJet oo h. Jonrr-err to Boston. A: Al'zz.zn-. P';-.
o; Bcioa o: iff colociea. Copy of h. P^frrz^a- zrxc v-
I: faSs, Eod iiw. Jccrcey :;:, Eo>--oc i; 173-^ IJ^iyzziA
izfj=. ir in i-r AEexilj. My pi-, b t::;:::. New
Gorenior. Ijiiy.ze^ s-.-Ji Lin:, His chariciex iz^d
sayiLgJ :o oe. C-o«n Aldimtar. Pro'ect of Htxz'jzl.
Mj ihare is it. la i-^csew. E^zea, Made a Con:-
miaiocer of ie Trear^. Mj ccfr—.-'uic-a to dtiixi ths
n-QT.twT co:=.-dfii. Eaise Men inc bcild Foru- Milirii
Law of nij irz.-vizg. Made CoIooeL Parade of nij
0£»T5. Ore::» to P.-op.-ie-xr. Airlitatce to Bo^oa
Anbaiiacori, Jccrzej vtid SLirisy, etc Me«t ^rith
Braddock- Ax=ii-2:ice to Linu To tis 0£cers of his
Anny. F^-tl:=c :iini Tntn i- crsge. His coocesskiDS to
rne sod cLira.~.e7 of c?. 'izj^'jxi of — y EleOzicsl
Exp'erjnsrti. Medal jei; nts. Preietit Royal Socier/,
iod 'i.yzv.z. of P.-eiidett. Der-y's ArriTsJ aid Cotn-t;h:p
a> me. His cLarirter. 2'It jerrice to ih* Army i: ^de
a^air of Qt;ar:e75. Dl-ptitei a>j-it -Jjc Proprietor'; Taxes
ccttiitjsd. Project for p^Ting tie City. I am seiit to
Etgktd. Negodatioti there. Catuida delenda ett. My
Pasipdlst. It« receptic- and erect. Projects cra^sr:
aod tiiei ysrncsi to nte — Mrs S. iL Srca.!, Sir Join P.,
Mr Wood, Sargent Sraiajt, and otberj. T'r.eir ciiaraiter-.
Doctorate frotn Edindtirgh, St AjtdreTi''i. Docxrate
firffin Oxford. Jot;niy 10 Scotland. Lord Leicester.
Mr Prat. De Grey. Jaciioru State of Arairs in
England. Delays. ETentrJ Jo-.cney into HcHard and
Flsndera. A gene;.' from Maryland, .^on's aptointment.
Mt P^^etim. AJlo-srance and tnanii. Jotimey to Boston.
John Peno, Goremor. ilv condict toT»ard him. The
3

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
Paxton Murders. My Pamphlet. Rioters march to
Philadelphia. Governor retires to my House. My
conduct. Sent out to the Insurgents. Turn them back.
Little thanks. Disputes revived. Resolutions against
continuing under Proprietary Government. Another
Pamphlet. Cool thoughts. Sent again to England with
Petition. Negotiation there. Lord H. His character.
Agencies from New Jersey, Georgia, Massachusetts.
Journey into Germany, 1766. Civilities received there.
Gottingen Observations. Ditto into France in 1767.
Ditto in 1769. Entertainment there at the Academy.
Introduced to the King and the Mesdames, Mad. Victoria
and Mrs Lamagnon. Due de Chaulnes, M. Beaumont,
Le Roy, D'Alibard, Nollet. See Journals. Holland.
Reprint my papers and add many. Books presented to me
from many authors. My Book translated into French.
Lightning Kite. Various Discoveries. My manner of
prosecuting that Study. King of Denmark invites me to
dinner. Recollect my Father's Proverb. Stamp Act.
My opposition to it. Recommendation of J. Hughes.
Amendment of it. Examination in Parliament. Repu
tation it gave me. Caressed by Ministry. Charles
Townsend's Act. Opposition to it. Stoves and chimney-
plates. Armonica. Acquaintance with Ambassadors.
Russian Intimation. Writing in newspapers. Glasses
from Germany. Grant of Land in Nova Scotia. Sick
nesses. Letters to America returned hither. The con
sequences. Insurance Office. My character. Costs me
nothing to be civil to inferiors ; a good deal to be sub
missive to superiors, etc., etc. Farce of Perpetual Motion.
Writing for Jersey Assembly. Hutchinson's Letters.
Temple. Suit in Chancery. Abuse before the Privy
Council, Lord Hillsborough's character and conduct.
Lord Dartmouth. Negotiation to prevent the War.
Return to America. Bishop of St Asaph. Congress.
Assembly. Committee of Safety. Chevaux-de-frise.
Sent to Boston, to the Camp. To Canada, to Lord
Howe. To France. Treaty, etc.

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY
TvrrroiD, at the BUhef ef St Ajafh'i^ ^Tl^-
Deae Son : I have ever had pleasure in obtaining
any little anecdotes of my ancestors. You may
remember the inquiries I made among the remains of
my relations when yon were with me in England,
and the journey I undertook for that purpose.
Imagining it may be equally agreeable to^ you to
know the circumstances of my life, many of which
you are yet unacquainted with, and expecting the
enjoyment of a week's uninterrupted leisure in my
present country retirement, I sit down to write them
for you. To which I have besides some other
inducements. Having emerged from the poverty
and obscurity in which I was born and bred, to a
state of affluence and some degree of reputation in
the world, and having gone so far through life with
a considerable share of felicity, the conducing
means I made use of, which with the blessing of
God so well succeeded, my posterity may like
to know, as they may find some of them suitable
to their own situations, and therefore fit to be
imitated. That felicity, when I reflected on it, has induced
me sometimes to say, that were it offered to my
choice, I should have no objection to a repetition of
the same life from its beginning, only asking the
'The country-seat of Bishop Shipley, the good bishop, as Dr
Franklin nsed to style him — B.
'After the wordi "agreeable to" the words " some of" were
interlined and afterward effaced. — B.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
advantages authors have in a second edition to cor
rect some faults of the first. So I might, besides
correcting the faults, change some sinister accidents
and events of it for others more favourable. But
though this were denied, I should still accept the
offer. Since such a repetition is not to be expected,
the next thing most like living one's life over again
seems to be a recollection of that life, and to make
that recollection as durable as possible by putting it
down in writing.
Hereby, too, I shall indulge the inclination so
natural in old men, to be talking of themselves and
their own past actions ; and I shall indulge it with
out being tiresome to others, who, through respect to
age, might conceive themselves obliged to give me
a hearing, since this may be read or not as any one
pleases. And, lastly (I may as well confess it,
since my denial of it will be believed by nobody),
perhaps I shall a good deal gratify my own vanity.
Indeed, I scarce ever heard or saw the introductory
words, ''Without vanity I may say," etc., but some
vain thing immediately followed. Most people dis
like vanity in others, whatever share they have of
it themselves ; but I give it fair quarter wherever I
meet with it, being persuaded that it is often pro
ductive of good to the possessor, and to others that
are within his sphere of action ; and therefore, in
many cases, it would not be altogether absurd if a
man were to thank God for his vanity among the
other comforts of life.
And now I speak of thanking God, I desire with
all humility to acknowledge that I owe the men
tioned happiness of my past life to His kind provi
dence, which lead me to the means I used and gave
them success. My belief of this induces me to hope,
though I must not presume, that the same goodness
will still be exercised toward me, in continuing that
happiness, or enabling me to bear a fatal reverse,
6

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
which I may experience as others have done; the
complexion of my future fortune being known to Him
only in whose power it is to bless to us even our
afflictions. The notes one of my uncles (who had the same
kind of curiosity in collecting family anecdotes) once
put into my hands, furnished me with several par
ticulars relating to our ancestors. From these notes
I learned that the family had lived in the same vil
lage, Ecton, in Northamptonshire, for three hundred
years, and how much longer he knew not (perhaps
from the time when the name of Franklin, that be
fore was the name of an order of people, was assumed
by them as a surname when others took surnames
all over the kingdom), on a freehold of about thirty
acres, aided by the smith's business, which had con
tinued in the family till his time, the eldest son
being always bred to that business ; a custom which
he and my father followed as to their eldest sons.
When I searched the registers at Ecton, I found an
account of their births, marriages and burials from
the year 1555 only, there being no registers kept in
that parish at any time preceding. By that register
I perceived that I was the youngest son of the
youngest son for five generations back. My grand
father Thomas, who was born in 1598, lived at
Ecton till he grew too old to follow business longer,
when he went to live with his son John, a dyer at
Banbury, in Oxfordshire, with whom my father
served an apprenticeship. There my grandfather
died and lies buried. We saw his gravestone in 1758.
His eldest son Thomas lived in the house at Ecton,
and left it with the land to his only child, a daughter,
who, with her husband, one Fisher, of Welling
borough, sold it to Mr Isted, now lord of the manor
there. My grandfather had four sons that grew
up, viz. : Thomas, John, Benjamin and Josiah. I
will give you what account I can of them, at this
7

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
distance from my papers, and if these are not lost
in my absence, you will among them find many
more particulars.
1 nomas was bred a smith under his father ; but,
being ingenious, and encouraged in learning (as all
my brothers were) by an Esquire Palmer, then the
principal gentleman in that parish, he qualified him
self for the business of scrivener; became a con
siderable man in the county ; was a chief mover of
all public-spirited undertakings for the county or
town of Northampton, and his own village, of which
many instances were related of him ; and much
taken notice of and patronized by the then Lord
Halifax. He died in 1702, January 6, old style,
just four years to a day before I was born. The
account we received of his life and character from
some old people at Ecton, I remember, struck you
as something extraordinary, from its similarity to
what you knew of mine. " Had he died on the
same day," you said, "one might have supposed a
transmigration." John was bred a dyer, I believe of woolens.
Benjamin was bred a silk dyer, serving an appren
ticeship at London. He was an ingenious man. I
remember him well, for when I was a boy he came
over to my father in Boston, and lived in the house
with us some years. He lived to a great age. His
grandson, Samuel Franklin, now lives in Boston.
He left behind him two quarto volumes, MS., of
his own poetry, consisting of little occasional pieces
addressed to his friends and relations, of which the
following, sent to me, is a specimen. He had
formed a short-hand of his own, which he taught
me, but, never practising it, I have now forgot it.
I was named after this uncle, there being a parti
cular affection between him and my father. He was
very pious, a great attender of sermons of the best
preachers, which he took down in his short-hand,
8

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
and had with him many volumes of them. He was
also much of a politician ; too much, perhaps, for
his station. There fell lately into my hands, in
London, a collection he had made of all the prin
cipal pamphlets relating to public affairs, from 1641
to I7I7> many of the volumes are wanting as
appears by the numbering, but there still remain
eight volumes in folio, and twenty-four in quarto
and in octavo. A dealer in old books met with
them, and knowing me by my sometimes buying of
him, he brought them to me. It seems my uncle
must have left them here when he went to America,
which was above fifty years since. There are many
of his notes in the margins.
This obscure family of ours was early in the Re
formation, and continued Protestants through the
reign of Queen Mary, when they were sometimes
in danger of trouble on account of their zeal against
popery. They had got an English Bible, and to
conceal and secure it, it was fastened open with
tapes under and within the cover of a joint-stool.
When my great-great-grandfather read it to his
family, he turned up the joint-stool upon his knees,
turning over the leaves then under the tapes. One
of the children stood at the door to give notice if he
saw the apparitor coming, who was an officer of the
spiritual court. In that case the stool was turned
down again upon its feet, when the Bible remained
concealed under it as before. This anecdote I had
from my uncle Benjamin. The family continued
all of the Church of England tiU about the end of
Charles the Second's reign, when some of the
ministers that had been outed for non-conformity
holding conventicles in Northamptonshire, Benjamin
and Josiah adhered to them, and so continued all
their lives : the rest of the family remained with the
Episcopal Church.
Josiah, my father, married young, and carried his

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
wife with three children into New England, about
1682, The conventicles having been forbidden by
law, and frequently disturbed, induced some con
siderable men of his acquaintance to remove to that
country, and he was prevailed with to accompany
them thither, where they expected to enjoy their
mode of religion with freedom. By the same wife
he had four children more born there, and by a
second wife ten more, in all seventeen ; of which I
remember thirteen sitting at one time at his table,
who all grew up to be men and women, and married ;
I was the youngest son, and the youngest child but
two, and was born in Boston, New England. My
mother, the second wife, was Abiah Folger, daughter
of Peter Folger, one of the first settlers of New
England, of whom honorable mention is made by
Cotton Mather, in his church history of that country,
entitled Magnalia Christi Americana, as "a godly,
learned Englishman" if I remember the words rightly.
I have heard that he wrote sundry small occasional
pieces, but only one of them was printed, which I
saw now many years since. It was written in 1675,
in the home-spun verse of that time and people, and
addressed to those then concerned in the govern
ment there. It was in favor of liberty of con
science, and in behalf of the Baptists, Quakers, and
other sectaries that had been undei* persecution,
ascribing the Indian wars, and other distresses that
had befallen the country, to that persecution, as so
many judgments of God to punish so heinous an
offense, and exhorting a repeal of those uncharitable
laws. The whole appeared to me as written with a
good deal of decent plainness and manly freedom.
The six concluding lines I remember, though I
have forgotten the two first of the stanza ; but the
purport of them was, that his censures proceeded
from good-wUl, and, therefore, he would be known
to be the author. lo

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
" Because to be a libeller (says he)
I hate it with my heart ;
From Sherburne tow^n, where now I dwell
My name I do put here ;
Without ofiense your real friend,
It is Peter Folgier."
My elder brothers were all put apprentices to
different trades. I was put to the grammar-school
at eight years of age, my father intending to devote
me, as the tithe of his sons, to the service of the
Church. My early readiness in learning to read
(which must have been very early, as I do not
remember when I could not read), and the opinion
of all his friends, that I should certainly make a good
scholar, encouraged him in this purpose of his. My
uncle Benjamin, too, approved of it, and proposed
to give me all his short-hand volumes of sermons, I
suppose as a stock to set up with, if I would learn
his character. I continued, however, at the granunar-
school not quite one year, though in that time I
had risen gradually from the middle of the class of
that year to be the head of it, and farther was
removed into the next class above it, in order to go
with that into the third at the end of the year. But
my father, in the meantime, from a view of the
expense of a college education, which having so
large a family he could not well afford, and the mean
living many so educated weie afterwards able to
obtain — reasons that he gave to his friends in my
hearing — altered his first intention, took me from
the grammar-school, and sent me to a school for
writing and arithmetic, kept by a then famous man,
Mr George Brownell, very successful in his pro
fession generally, and that by mUd, encouraging
methods. Under him I acquired fair writing pretty
soon, but I failed in the arithmetic, and made no
progress in it. At ten years old I was taken home
to assist my father in his business, which was that of
a taUow-chandler and sope-boUer; a business he
II

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
was not bred to, but had assumed on his arrival in
New England, and on finding his dying trade would
not maintain his family, being in Httle request.
Accordingly, I was employed in cutting wick for the
candles, filling the dipping mold and the molds for cast
candles, attending the shop, going of errands, etc.
I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination
for the sea, but my father declared against it ; how
ever, living near the water, I was much in and
about it, learnt early to swim well, and to manage
boats ; and when in a boat or canoe with other
boys, I was commonly allowed to govern, especially
in any case of difficulty ; and upon other occasions I
was generally a leader among the boys, and some
times led them into scrapes, of which I will mention
one instance, as it shows an early projecting public
spirit, tho' not then justly conducted.
There was a salt-marsh that bounded part of the
mUl-pond, on the edge of which, at high water, we
used to stand to fish for minnows. By much tramp
ling, we had made it a mere quagmire. My pro
posal was to build a wharff there fit for us to stand
upon, and I showed my comrades a large heap of
stones, which were intended for a new house near
the marsh, and which would very well suit our
purpose. Accordingly, in the evening, when the
workmen were gone, I assembled a number of my
play-fellows, and working with them diligently like
so many emmets, sometimes two or three to a stone,
we brought them all away and built our little
wharff. The next morning the workmen were sur
prised at missing the stones, which were found in
our wharff. Inquiry was made after the removers ;
we were discovered and complained of; several of
us were corrected by our fathers; and, though I
pleaded the usefulness of the work, mine convinced
me that nothing was useful which was not honest.
I think you may hke to know something of his
12

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
person and character. He had an excellent consti
tution of body, was of middle stature, but well set,
and very strong ; he was ingenious, could draw
prettily, was skilled a little in music, and had a clear
pleasing voice, so that when he played psalm tunes
on his violin and sung withal, as he sometimes did
in an evening after the business of the day was over,
it was extremely agreeable to hear. He had a
mechanical genius too, and, on occasion, was very
handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools ; but his
great excellence lay in a sound understanding and
solid judgment in prudential matters, both in private
and publick affairs. In the latter, indeed, he was
never employed, the numerous family he had to
educate and the straitness of his circumstances keep
ing him dose to his trade ; but I remember well his
being frequently visited by leading people, who
consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the town
or of the church he belonged to, and showed a good
deal of respect for his judgment and advice : he was
also much consulted by private persons about their
affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently
chosen an arbitrator between contending parties.
At his table he 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 bro't up in such a perfect inattention to
those matters as to be quite indifferent what kind of
food was set before me, and so unobservant of it,
that to this dayMf I am asked I can scarce tell a few
13

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
hours after dinner what I dined upon. This has
been a 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.
My mother had likewise an excellent constitution :
she suckled all her ten children. I never knew
either my father or mother to have any sickness but
that of which they dy'd, he at 89, and she at 85
years of age. They lie buried together at Boston,
where I some years since placed a marble over their
grave, with this inscription :
Josiah Franklin,
and
Abiah his wife,
lie here interred.
They lived lovingly together in wedlock
fifty-five years,
Without an estate, or any gainful employment,
By constant labor and industry,
with God's blessing,
They maintained a large family
comfortably,
and brought up thirteen children
and seven grandchildren
reputably.
From this instance, reader.
Be encouraged to diligence in thy calling,
And distrust not Providence.
He was a pious and prudent man ;
She, a discreet and virtuous woman.
Their youngest son,
In filial regard to their memory,
Places this stone.
J. F. born 1655, died 1744, Mtzt 89.
A. F. born 1667, died 1752,  85.
By my rambling digressions I perceive myself to
be grown old. I us'd to write more methodically.
But one does not dress for private company as for a
publick ball. 'Tis perhaps only negligence.
To return : I continued thus employed in my
father's business for two years, that is, till I was

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
twelve years old ; and my brother John, who was
bred to that business, having left my father, married,
and set up for himself at Rhode Island, there was
all appearance that I was destined to supply his
place, and become a tallow-chandler. But my dis
like to the trade continuing, my father was under
apprehensions that if he did not find one for me
more agreeable, I should break away and get to sea,
as his son Josiah had done, to his great vexation.
He therefore sometimes took me to walk with him,
and see joiners, bricklayers, turners, braziers, etc.,
at their work, that he might observe my inclination,
and endeavor to fix it on some trade or other on
land. It has ever since been a pleasure to me to
see good workmen handle their tools ; and it has
been useful to me, having learnt so much by it as
to be able to do little jobs myself in my house when
a workman could not readily be got, and to con
struct little machines for my experiments, while the
intention of making the experiment was fresh and
warm in my mind. My father at last fixed upon
the cutler's trade, and my uncle Benjamin's son
Samuel, who was bred to that business in London,
being about that time established in Boston, I was
sent to be with him some time on liking. But his
expectations of a fee with me displeasing my father,
I was taken home again.
From a child I was fond of reading, and all -the
little money that came into my hands was ever laid
out in books. Pleased with the Pilgrim's Progress,
my first collection was of John Bunyan's works in
separate little volumes. I afterward sold them to
enable me to buy R. Burton's Historical Collections ;
they were small chapmen's books, and cheap, 40
or 50 in all. My father's little library consisted
chiefly of books in polemic divinity, most of which
I read, and have since often regretted that, at a time
when I had such a thirst for knowledge, more
15

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
proper books had not fallen in my way, since it was
now resolved I should not be a clergyman. Plutarch's
Lives there was in which I read abundantly, and I
still think that time spent to great advantage. There
was also a book of De Foe's, called an Essay on
Projects, and another of Dr Mather's, called Essays
to do Good, which perhaps gave me a turn of
thinking that had an influence on some of the
prindpsd future events of my fife.
This bookish inclination at length determined my
father to make me a printer, though he had already
one son (James) of that profession. In 17 17 niy
brother James returned from England with a press
and letters to set up his business in Boston. I liked
it much better than that of my father, but still had a
hankering for the sea. To prevent the appre
hended effect of such an inclination, my father was
impatient to have me bound to my brother. I stood
out some time, but at last was persuaded, and
signed the indentures when I was yet but twelve
years old. I was to serve as an apprentice till I was
twenty-one years of age, only I was to be allowed
journeyman's wages during the last year. In a
little time I made great profidency in the business,
and became a useful hand to my brother. I now
had access to better books. An acquaintance with
the apprentices of booksellers enabled me some
times to borrow a small one, which I was careful to
return soon and dean. Often I sat up in my room read
ing the greatest part of the night, when the book was
borrowed in the evening and to be returned early in
the morning, lest it should be missed or wanted.
And after some time an ingenious tradesman, Mr
Matthew Adams, who had a pretty collection of
books, and who frequented our printing-house, took
notice of me, invited me to his library, and very
kindly lent me such books as I chose to read. I
now took a fancy to poetry, and made some little
16

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
pieces ; my brother, thinking it might turn to
account, encouraged me, and put me on composing
occasional ballads. One was called The Lighthouse
Tragedy, and contained an account of the drowning
of Captain Worthilake, with his two daughters : the
other was a sailor's song, on the taking of Teach
(or Blackbeard) the pirate. They were wretched
stuff, in the Grub-street-ballad style ; and when
they were printed he sent me about the town to sell
them. The first sold wonderfully, the event being
recent, having made a great noise. This flattered
my vanity ; but my father discouraged me by
ridiculing my performances, and telling me verse-
makers were generally beggars. So I escaped being
a poet, most probably a very bad one ; but as prose
writing has been of great use to me in the course of
my life, and was a principal means of my advance
ment, I shall tell you how, in such a situation, I
acquired what little ability I have in that way.
.There was another bookish lad in the town, John
Collins by name, with whom I was intimately
acquainted. We sometimes disputed, and very fond
we were of argument, and very desirous of con
futing one another, which disputatious turn, by the
way, is apt to become a very bad habit, making
people often extremely disagreeable in company by
the contradiction that is necessary to bring it into
practice ; and thence, besides souring and spoiling
the conversation, is productive of disgusts and, per
haps enmities where you may have occasion for
friendship. I had caught it by reading my father's
books of dispute about religion. Persons of good
sense, I have since observed, seldom fall into it,
except lawyers, university men, and men of all
sorts that have been bred at Edinborough.
A question was once, somehow or other, started
between Collins and me, of the propriety of edu
cating the female sex in learning, and their abilities
B 17

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
for study. He was of opinion that it was improper,
and that they were naturally unequal to it. I took
the contrary side, perhaps a little for dispute's sake.
He was naturally more eloquent, had a ready plenty
of words ; and sometimes, as I thought, bore me
down more by his fluency than by the strength of
his reasons. As we parted without settling the
point, and were not to see one another again for
some time, I sat down to put my arguments in
writing, which I copied fair and sent to him. He
answered, and I replied. Three or four letters of
a side had passed, when my father happened to find
my papers and read them. Without entering into
the discussion, he took occasion to talk to me about
the manner of my writing ; observed that,. though I
had the advantage of my antagonist in correct
spelling and pointing (which I ow'd to the printing-
house), I fell far short in elegance of expression, in
method and in perspicuity, of which he convinced
me by several instances. I saw the justice of his
remarks, and thence grew more attentive to the
manner in writing, and determined to endeavor at
improvement. About this time I met with an odd volume of the
Spectator. It was the third. I had never before
seen any of them. I bought it, read it over and
over, and was much delighted with it. I thought
the writing excellent, and wished, if possible, to
imitate it. With this view I took some of the
papers, and, making short hints of the sentiment in
each sentence, laid them by a few days, and then,
without looking at the book, try'd to compleat the
papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at
length, and as fully as it had been expressed before,
in any suitable words that should come to hand.
Then I compared my Spectator with the original,
discovered some of my faults, and corrected them.
But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
in recollecting and using them, which I thought I
should have acquired before that time if I had gone
on making verses ; since the continual occasion for
words of the same import, but of different length,
to suit the measure, or of different sound for the
rhyme, would have laid me under a constant neces
sity of searching for variety, and also have tended
to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master
of it. Therefore I took some of the tales and turned
them into verse ; and, after a time, when I had pretty
well forgotten the prose, turned them back again.
I also sometimes jumbled my collections of hints
into confusion, and after some weeks endeavored
to reduce them into the best order, before I began
to form the full sentences and compleat the paper.
This was to teach me method in the arrangement of
thoughts. By comparing my work afterwards with
the original, I discovered many faults and amended
them ; but I sometimes had the pleasure of fancying
that, in certdn particulars of small import, I had been
lucky enough to improve the method or the language,
and this encouraged me to think I might possibly in
time come to be a tolerable English writer, of which
I was extreamly ambitious. My time for these ex
ercises and for reading was at night, after work or
before it began in the morning, or on Sundays, when
I contrived to be in the printing-house alone, evading
as much as I could the common attendance on public
worship which my father used to exact on me when
I was under his care, and which indeed I still thought
a duty, though I could not, as it seemed to me, afford
time to practise it.
When about l6 years of age I happened to meet
with a book, written by one Tryon, recommending
a vegetable diet. I determined to go into it. My
brother, being yet unmarried, did not keep house,
but boarded himself and his apprentices in another
family. My refusing to eat flesh occasioned an
19

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
inconveniency, and I was frequently chid for my
singularity. I made myself acquainted with Tryon's
manner of preparing some of his dishes, such as
boiling potatoes or rice, making hasty pudding, and
a few others, and then proposed to my brother, that
if he would give me, weekly, half the money he paid
for my board, I would board myself. He instantly
agreed to it, and I presently found that I could save
half what he paid me. This was an additional fund
for buying books. But I had another advantage in
it. My brother and the rest going from the print
ing-house to their meals, I remained there alone,
and, despatching presently my light repast, which
often was no more than a bisket or a slice of bread,
a handful of raisins or a tart from the pastry-cook's,
and a glass of water, had the rest of the time till
their return for study, in which I made the greater
progress, from that greater clearness of head and
quicker apprehension which usually attend temper
ance in eating and drinking.
And now it was that, being on some occasion
made asham'd of my ignorance in figures, which I
had twice failed in learning when at school, I took
Cocker's book of Arithmetick, and went through
the whole by myself with great ease. I also read
Seller's and Shermy's books of Navigation, and
became acquainted with the little geometry they
contain; but never proceeded far in that science.
And I read about this time Locke on Human Under
standing, and the Art of Thinking, by Messrs du Port
Royal. While I was intent on improving my language, I
met with an English grammar (I think it was Green
wood's), at the end of which there were two little
sketches of the arts of rhetoric and logic, the latter
finishing with a specimen of a dispute in the Socratic
method ; and soon after I procur'd Xenophon's
Memorable Things of Socrates, wherein there are
20

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
many instances of the same method. I was charm'd
with it, adopted it, dropt my abrupt contradiction
and positive argumentation, and put on the humble
inquirer and doubter. And being then, from read
ing Shaftesbury and Collins, become a real doubter
in many points of our religious doctrine, I found this
method safest for myself and very embarassing to
those against whom I used it ; therefore I took a
delight in it, practis'd it continually, and grew very
artful and expert in drawing people, even of superior
knowledge, into concessions, the consequences of
which they did not foresee, entangling them in
difficulties out of which they could not extricate
themselves, and so obtaining victories that neither
myself nor my cause always deserved. I continu'd
this method some few years, but gradually left it,
retaining only the habit of expressing myself in terms
of modest diffidence ; never using, when I advanced
anything that may possibly be disputed, the words
certainly, undoubtedly, or any others that give the air
of positiveness to an opinion ; but rather say, I con
ceive or apprehend a thing to be so and so ; it appears
to me, or I should think it so or so, for such and such
reasons ; or / imagine it to be so ; or it is so, if I am not
mistaken. This habit, I believe, has been of great
advantage to me when I have had occasion to in
culcate my opinions, and persuade men into measures
that I have been from time to time engag'd in pro
moting ; and, as the chief ends of conversation are
to inform or to be informed, to please or to persuade, I
wish well-meaning, sensible men would not lessen
their power of doing good by a positive, assuming
manner, that seldom fails to disgust, tends to create
opposition, and to defeat everyone of those purposes
for which speech was given to us, to wit, giving or
receiving information or pleasure. For, if you would
inform, a positive and dogmatical manner in advancing
your sentiments may provoke contradiction and pre-
21

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
vent a candid attention. If you wish information
and improvement from the knowledge of others, and
yet at the same time express yourself as firmly fix'd
in your present opinions, modest, sensible men, who
do not love disputation, will probably leave you un
disturbed in the possession of your error. And by
such a manner, you can seldom hope to recommend
yourself in pleasing your hearers, or to persuade
those whose concurrence you desire. Pope says,
judiciously :
** J^en should be taught as if you taught them not,
And things uninoivn propos'd as things forgot ; "
farther recommending to us
"To speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffidence."
And he might have coupled with this line that
which he has coupled with another, I think, less
properly, " For want of modesty is want of sense."
If you ask. Why less properly ? I must repeat the
lines, " Immodest words admit of no defense,
For want of modesty is want of sense."
Now, is not luant of sense (where a man is so un
fortunate as to want it) some apology for his luant
of modesty ? and would not the lines stand more
justly thus }
" Immodest words admit but this defense.
That want of modesty is want of sense."
This, however, I should submit to better judgments.
My brother had, in 1720 or 1721, begun to print
a newspaper. It was the second that appeared in
America, and was called the New England Courant.
The only one before it was the Boston News-Letter.
22

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
I remember his being dissuaded by some of his
friends from the undertaking, as not likely to suc
ceed, one newspaper being, in their judgment,
enough for America. At this rime (1771) there
are not less than five-and-twenty. He went on,
however, with the undertaking, and after having
worked in composing the types and printing off the
sheets, I was employed to carry the papers thro' the
streets to the customers.
He had some ingenious men among his friends,
who amus'd themselves by writing little pieces for
this paper, which gain'd it credit and made it more
in demand, and these gentlemen often visited us.
Hearing their conversations, and their accounts of
the approbation their papers were received with, I
was exdted to try my hand among them ; but, being
still a boy, and suspecting that my brother would
object to printing anything of mine in his paper if he
knew it to be mine, I contrived to disguise my hand,
and, writing an anonymous paper, I put it in at night
under the door of the printing-house. It was found
in the morning, and communicated to his writing
friends when they call'd in as usual. They read it,
commented on it in my hearing, and I had the ex
quisite pleasure of finding it met with their approba
tion, and that, in their different guesses at the author,
none were named but men of some character among
us for learning and ingenuity. I suppose now that
I was rather lucky in my judges, and that perhaps
they were not really so very good ones as I then
esteem'd them.
Encourag'd, however, by this, I wrote and con-
vey'd in the same way to the press several more
papers which were equally approv'd ; and I kept
my secret till my small fund of sense for such per
formances was pretty well exhausted, and then I dis
covered it, when I began to be considered a little
more by my brother's acquaintance, and in a manner
23

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
that did not quite please him, as he thought, probably
with reason, that it tended to make me too vain.
And, perhaps, this might be one occasion of the
differences that we began to have about this time.
Though a brother, he considered himself as my
master, and me as his apprentice, and, accordingly,
expected the same services from me as he would
from another, while I thought he demean'd me too
much in some he requir'd of me, who from a brother
expected more indulgence. Our disputes were often
brought before our father, and I fancy I was either
generally in the right, or else a better pleader,
because the judgment was generally in my favor.
But my brother was passionate, and had often
beaten me, which I took extreamly amiss ; and,
thinking my apprenticeship very tedious, I was
continually wishing for some opportunity of shorten
ing it, which at length offered in a manner unex
pected.^ One of the pieces in our newspaper on some poli
tical point, which I have now forgotten, gave
offense to the Assembly. He was taken up, cen-
sur'd, and imprison'd for a month, by the speaker's
warrant, I suppose, because he would not discover
his author. I too was taken up and examin'd be
fore the council; but, tho' I did not give them
any satisfaction, they content'd themselves with
admonishing me, and dismissed me, considering
me, perhaps, as an apprentice, who was bound to
keep his master's secrets.
During my brother's confinement, which I re
sented a good deal, notwithstanding our private
differences, I had the management of the paper ;
and I made bold to give our rulers some rubs in it,
which my brother took very kindly, while others
' I fancy his harsh and tyrannical treatment of me might be a
means of impressing me with that aversion to arbitrary power that
has stuck to me through my whole life.
H

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
began to consider me in an unfavorable light, as a
young genius that had a turn for libelling and satyr.
My brother's discharge was accompany'd with an
order of the House (a very odd one), that " James
Franklin should no longer print the paper called the Neiv
England Courant."
There was a consultation held in our printing-
house among his friends, what he should do in this
case. Some proposed to evade the order by chang
ing the name of the paper ; but my brother, seeing
inconveniences in that, it was finally concluded on
as a better way, to let it be printed for the future
under the name of Benjamin Franklin; and to
avoid the censure of the Assembly, that might fall
on him as still printing it by his apprentice, the con
trivance was that my old indenture should be re-
turn'd to me, with a full discharge on the back of
it, to be shown on occasion, but to secure to him the
benefit of my service, I was to sign new indentures
for the remainder of the term, which were to be
kept private. A very flimsy scheme it was ; how
ever, it was immediately executed, and the paper
went on accordingly, under my name for several
months. At length, a fresh difference arising between my
brother and me, I took upon me to assert my free
dom, presuming that he would not venture to pro
duce 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 impres
sions of resentment for the blows his passion too
often urged him to bestow upon me, though he was
otherwise not an ill-natur'd man : perhaps I was too
saucy and provoking.
When he found I would leave him, he took care
to prevent my getting employment in any other
printing-house of the town, by going round and
25

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
speaking to every master, who accordingly refus'd
to give me work. I then thought of going to New
York, as the nearest place where there was a printer ;
and I was rather inclin'd to leave Boston when I
reflected that I had already made myself a little ob
noxious to the governing party, and, from the arbi
trary proceedings of the Assembly in my brother's
case, it was likely I might, if I stay'd, soon bring
myself into scrapes ; and farther, that my indiscrete
disputations about religion began to make me pointed
at with horror by good people as an infidel or atheist.
I determin'd on the point, but my father now siding
with my brother, I was sensible that, if I attempted
to go openly, means would be used to prevent me.
My friend Collins, therefore, undertook to manage
a little for me. He agreed with the captain of a
New York sloop for my passage, under the notion
of my being a young acquaintance of his, that had
got a naughty girl with child, whose friends would
compel me to marry her, and therefore I could not
appear or come away publicly. So I sold some of
my books to raise a little money, was taken on board
privately, and as we had a fair wind, in three days
I found myself in New York, near goo miles from
home, a boy of but 17, without the least recom
mendation to, or knowledge of any person in the
place, and with very little money in my pocket.
My inclinations for the sea were by this time worne
out, or I might now have gratify'd them. But, hav
ing a trade, and supposing myself a pretty good
workman, I offer'd my service to the printer in the
place, old Mr William Bradford, who had been the
first printer in Pennsylvania, but removed from
thence upon the quarrel of George Keith. He could
give me no employment, having little to do, and
help enough already; but says he, "My son at
Philadelphia has lately lost his principal hand,
Aquila Rose, by death ; if you go thither, I believe
26

Old House in Milk Street where Benjamin Franklin
WAS BORN

From a drawing taken shoitly before it was burnt
down in 1810

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
he may employ you." Philadelphia was a hundred
miles further; I set out, however, in a boat for
Amboy, leaving my chest and things to follow me
round by sea.
In crossing the bay, we met with a squall that
tore our rotten sails to pieces, prevented our getting
into the Kill, and drove us upon Long Island. In
our way, a drunken Dutchman, who was a passen
ger too, fell overboard ; when he was sinking, I
reached through the water to his shock pate, and
drew him up, so that we got him in again. His
ducking sobered him a little, and he went to sleep,
taking first out of his pocket a book, which he de-
sir'd I would dry for him. It proved to be my old
favorite author, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, in
Dutch, finely printed on good paper, with copper
cuts, a dress better than I had ever seen it wear in
its own language. I have since found that it has
been translated into most of the languages of Europe,
and suppose it has been more generally read than
any other book, except perhaps the Bible. Honest
John was the first that I know of who mix'd narra
tion and dialogue ; a method of writing very engag
ing to the reader, who in the most interesting parts
finds himself, as it were, brought into the company
and present at the discourse. De Foe in his Cruso,
his Moll Flanders, Religious Courtship, Family In
structor, and other pieces, has imitated it with suc
cess ; and Richardson has done the same in his
Pamela, etc.
When we drew near the island, we found it was
at a place where there could be no landing, there
being a great surff on the stony beach. So we
dropt anchor, and swung round towards the
shore. Some people came down to the water edge
and hallow'd to us, as we did to them ; but the wind
was so high, and the surff so loud, that we could not
hear so as to understand each other. There were
27

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
canoes on the shore, and we made signs, and hal
low'd that they should fetch us ; but they either did
not understand us, or thought it impracticable, so
they went away, and night coming on, we had no
remedy but to wait till the wind should abate ; and,
in the mean time, the boatman and I concluded to
sleep, if we could ; and so crowded into the scuttle,
with the Dutchman, who was still wet, and the spray
beating over the head of our boat, leak'd thro' to us,
so that we were soon almost as wet as he. In this
manner we lay all night, with very little rest ; but,
the wind abating the next day, we made a shift to
reach Amboy before night, having been thirty hours
on the water, without victuals, or any drink but a
bottle of filthy rum, and the water we sail'd on being
salt. In the evening I found myself very feverish, and
went into bed ; but, having read somewhere that cold
water drank plentifully was good for a fever, I fol-
low'd the prescription, sweat plentiful most of the
night, my fever left me, and in the morning, cross
ing the ferry, I proceeded on my journey on foot,
having fifty miles to Burlington, where I was told
I should find boats that would carry me the rest of
the way to Philadelphia.
It rained very hard all the day ; I was thoroughly
soak'd, and by noon a good deal tired ; so I stopt
at a poor inn, where I staid all night, beginning now
to wish that I had never left home. I cut so miser
able a figure, too, that I found, by the questions ask'd
me, I was suspected to be some runaway servant,
and in danger of being taken up on that suspicion.
However, I proceeded the next day, and got in the
evening to an inn, within eight or ten miles of
Burlington, kept by one Dr Brown. He entered
into conversation with me while I took some re
freshment, and, finding I had read a httle, became
very sociable and friendly. Our acquaintance con-
28

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
tinu'd as long as he liv'd. He had been, I imagine,
an itinerant doctor, for there was no town in
England, or country in Europe, of which he
could not give a very particular account. He
had some letters, and was ingenious, but much of
an unbeliever, and wickedly undertook, some years
after, to travestie the Bible in doggrel verse, as
Cotton had done "Virgil. By this means he set many
of the facts in a very ridiculous light, and might
have hurt weak minds if his work had been pub
lished ; but it never was.
At his house I lay that night, and the next morn
ing reach'd Burlington, but had the mortification to
find that the regular boats were gone a little before
my coming, and no other expected to go before
Tuesday, this being Saturday ; wherefore I returned
to an old woman in the town, of whom I had bought
gingerbread to eat on the water, and ask'd her
advice. She invited me to lodge at her house till a
passage by water should offer ; and being tired with
my foot travelling, I accepted the invitation. She
understanding I was a printer, would have had me
stay at that town and follow my business, being
ignorant of the stock necessary to begin with. She
was very hospitable, gave me a dinner of ox-cheek
with great good will, accepting only of a pot of ale
in return ; and I thought myself fixed till Tuesday
should come. However, walking in the evening by
the side of the river, a boat came by, which I found
was going towards Philadelphia, with several people
in her. They took me in, and, as there was no
wind, we row'd all the way ; and about midnight,
not having yet seen the city, some of the company
were confident we must have passed it, and would
row no farther ; the others knew not where we were;
so we put toward the shore, got into a creek, landed
near an old fence, with the rails of which we made
a fire, the night being cold, in October, and there
29

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
we remained till daylight. Then one of the com
pany knew the place to be Cooper's Creek, a httle
above Philadelphia, which we saw as soon as we
got out of the creek, and arriv'd there about eight
or nine o'dock on the Sunday morning, and landed
at the Market-street wharf.
I have been the more particular in this description
of my journey, and shall be so of my first entry into
that city, that you may in your mind compare such
unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since
made there. I was in my working dress, my best
clothes being to come round by sea. I was dirty
from my journey ; my pockets were stuff 'd out with
shirts and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where
to look for lodging. I was fatigued with travelling,
rowing, and want of rest, I was very hungry ; and
my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch dollar,
and about a shilling in copper. The latter I gave
the people of the boat for my passage, who at first
refus'd it, on account of my rowing ; but I insisted
on their taking it, A man being sometimes more
generous when he has but a little money than when
he has plenty, perhaps thro' fear of being thought
to have but little.
Then I walked up the street, gazing about till
near the market-house I met a boy with bread. I
had made many a meal on bread, and, inquiring
where he got it, I went immediately to the baker's
he directed me to, in Second-street, and ask'd for
bisket, intending such as we had in Boston ; but
they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia.
Then I asked for a three-penny loaf, and was told
they had none such. So not considering or know
ing the difference of money, and the greater cheap
ness nor the names of his bread, I bad him give
me three-penny worth of any sort. He gave me,
accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surpriz'd
at the quantity, but took it, and, having no room in
30

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
my pockets, walk'd off with a roll under each arm,
and eating the other. Thus I went up Market-
street as far as Fourth-street, passing by the door of
Mr Read, my future wife's father ; when she,
standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made,
as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous ap
pearance. Then I turned and went down Chesnut-
street and part of Walnut-street, eating my roll all
the way, and, coming round, found myself again at
Market-street wharf, near the boat I came in, to
which I went for a draught of the river water ; and,
being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other
two to a woman and her child that came down
the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to
go farther.
Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street,
which by this time had many clean-dressed people
in it, who were all walking the same way. I joined
them, and thereby was led into the great meeting
house of the Quakers near the market. I sat down
among them, and, after looking round awhile and
hearing nothing said, being very drowsy thro' labor
and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast
asleep, and continued so till the meeting broke up,
when one was kind enough to rouse me. This was,
therefore, the first house I was in, or slept in, in
Philadelphia. Walking down again toward the river, and, look
ing in the faces ot people, I met a young Quaker
man, whose countenance I lik'd, and, accosting him,
requested he would tell me where a stranger could
get lodging. We were then near the sign of the
Three Mariners. " Here," says he, " is one place
that entertains strangers, but it is not a reputable
house ; if thee wilt walk with me, I'll show thee a
better." He brought me to the Crooked Billet in
Water-street. Here I got a dinner ; and, while I
was eating it, several sly questions were asked me,
31

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
as it seemed to be suspected from my youth and
appearance, that I might be some runaway.
After dinner, my sleepiness return'd, and being
shown to a bed, I lay down without undressing, and
slept till six in the evening, was call'd to supper,
went to bed again very early, and slept soundly till
next morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I
could, and went to Andrew Bradford the printer's.
I found in the shop the old man his father, whom I
had seen at New York, and who, travelling on horse
back, had got to Philadelphia before me. He intro-
duc'd me to his son, who receiv'd me civilly, gave
me a breakfast, but told me he did not at present
want a hand, being lately suppli'd with one ; but
there was another printer in town, lately set up, one
Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me ; if not, I
should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he
would give me a little work to do now and then till
fuller business should offer.
The old gentleman said he would go with me to
the new printer ; and when we found him, " Neigh
bor," says Bradford, " I have brought to see you a
young man of your business ; perhaps you may
want such a one." He ask'd me a few questions,
put a composing stick in my hand to see how I
work'd, and then said he would employ me soon,
though he had just then nothing for me to do ; and,
taking old Bradford, whom he had never seen
before, to be one of the town's people that had a
good will for him, enter'd into a conversation on
his present undertaking and prospects ; while Brad
ford, not discovering that he was the other printer's
father, on Keimer's saying he expected soon to get
the greatest part of the business into his own hands,
drew him on by artful questions, and starting httie
doubts, to explain all his views, what interest he
reli'd on, and in what manner he intended to pro
ceed. I, who stood by and heard all, saw imme-
32

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
djately that one of them was a crafty old sophister,
and the other a mere novice. Bradford left me with
Keimer, who was greatly surprised when I told him
who the old man was.
Keimer's printing-house, I found, consisted of an
old shatter'd press, and one small, worn-out font of
English, which he was then using himself, composing
an Elegy on Aquila Rose, before mentioned, an in
genious young man, of excellent character, much
respected in the town, clerk of the Assembly, and a
pretty poet. Keimer made verses too, but very
indifferentiy. He could not be said to write them,
for his manner was to compose them in the types
directly out of his head. So there being no copy,
but one pair of cases, and the Elegy likely to require
all the letter, no one could help him. I endeavor'd
to put his press (which he had not yet us'd, and of
which he understood nothing) into order fit to be
work'd with ; and, promising to come and print off
his Elegy as soon as he should have got it ready, I
return'd to Bradford's, who gave me a little job to
do for the present, and there I lodged and dieted.
A few days after, Keimer sent for me to print off
the Elegy. And now he had got another pair of
cases, and a pamphlet to reprint, on which he set
me to work.
These two printers I found poorly qualified for
their business. Bradford had not been bred to it,
and was very illiterate ; and Keimer, tho' some
thing- of a scholar, was a mere compositor, knowing
nothing of presswork. He had been one of the
French prophets, and could act their enthusiastic
agitations. At this time he did not profess any par
ticular rehgion, but something of all on occasion ;
was very ignorant of the world, and had, as I
afterward found, a good deal of the knave in his
composition. He did not like my lodging at
Bradford's while I work'd with him. He had a
c 33

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
house, indeed, but without furniture, so he could
not lodge me ; but he got me a lodging at Mr
Read's, before mentioned, who was the owner of
his house; and, my chest and clothes being come
by this time, I made rather a more respectable
appearance in the eyes of Miss Read than I had
done when she first happen'd to see me eating
my roll in the street.
I began now to have some acquaintance among the
young people of the town, that were lovers of read
ing, with whom I spent my evenings very pleasantly ;
and gaining money by my industry and frugality, I
lived very agreeably, forgetting Boston as much as
I could, and not desiring that any there should know
where I resided, except my friend Collins, who was
in my secret, and kept it when I wrote to him. At
length, an incident happened that sent me back again
much sooner than I had intended. I had a brother-
in-law, Robert Holmes, master of a sloop that traded
between Boston and Delaware. He being at New
castle, forty miles below Philadelphia, heard there of
me, and wrote me a letter mentioning the concern of
my friends in Boston at my abrupt departure, assur
ing me of their good will to me, and that every thing
would be accommodated to my mind if I would return,
to which he exhorted me very earnestly. I wrote an
answer to his letter, thank'd him for his advice, but
stated my reasons for quitting Boston fully and in
such a light as to convince him I was not so wrong
as he had apprehended.
Sir William Keith, governor of the province, was
then at Newcastle, and Captain Holmes, happening
to be in company with him when my letter came to
hand, spoke to him of me, and show'd him the letter.
The governor read it, and seem'd surpris'd when he
was told of my age. He said I appear'd a young
man of promising parts, and therefore should be
encouraged ; the printers at Philadelphia were
34

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
wretched ones ; and, if I would set up there, he
made no doubt I should succeed; for his part, he
would procure me the public business, and do me
every other service in his power. This my brother-
in-law afterwards told me in Boston, but I knew as
yet nothing of it ; when, one day, Keimer and I
being at work together near the window, we saw
the governor and another gentleman (which proved
to be Colonel French, of Newcastle), finely dress'd,
come directly across the street to our house, and
heard them at the door.
Keimer ran down immediately, thinking it a visit
to him ; but the governor inquir'd for me, came up,
and with a condescension and politeness I had been
quite unus'd to, made me many compliments, desired
to be acquainted with me, blam'd me kindly for not
having made myself known to him when I first came
to the place, and would have me away with him to
the tavern, where he was going with Colonel French
to taste, as he said, some excellent Madeira. I was
not a littie surprised, and Keimer star'd like a pig
poison'd. I went, however, with the governor and
Colonel French to a tavern, at the corner of Third-
street, and over the Madeira he propos'd my setting
up my business, laid before me the probabilities of
success, and both he and Colonel French assur'd me
I should have their interest and influence in procuring
the public business of both governments. On my
doubting whether my father would assist me in it.
Sir William said he would give me a letter to him, in
which he would state the advantages, and he did not
doubt of prevailing with him. So it was concluded
I should return to Boston in the first vessel, with the
governor's letter recommending me to my father. In
the mean time the intention was to be kept a secret,
and I went on working with Keimer as usual, the
governor sending for me now and then to dine with
him, a very great honor I thought it, and conversing
35

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
with me in the most affable, familiar, and friendly
manner imaginable.
About the end of April, 1724, a little vessel
offer'd for Boston. I took leave of Keimer as going
to see my friends. The governor gave me an ample
letter, saying many flattering things of me to my
father, and strongly recommending the project of
my setting up at Philadelphia as a thing that must
make my fortune. We struck on a shoal in going
down the bay, and sprung a leak; we had a
blustering time at sea, and were oblig'd to pump
almost continually, at which I took my turn. We
arriv'd safe, however, at Boston in about a fortnight.
I had been absent seven months, and my friends
had heard nothing of me ; for my br. Holmes was
not yet return'd, and had not written about me.
My unexpected appearance surpriz'd the family;
aU were, however, very glad to see me, and made
me welcome, except my brother. I went to see
him at his printing-house. I was better dress'd
than ever while in his service, having a genteel new
suit from head to foot, a watch, and my pockets
lin'd with near five pounds sterling in silver. He
receiv'd me not very frankly, look'd me all over,
and turn'd to his work again.
The journeymen were inquisitive where I had
been, what sort of a country it was, and how I lik'd
it. I prais'd it much, and the happy life I led in it,
expressing strongly my intention of returning to it ;
and, one of them asking what kind of money we
had there, I produc'd a handful of silver, and
spread it before them, which was a kind of raree-
show they had not been us'd to, paper being the
money of Boston. Then I took an opportunity of
letting them see my watch ; and, lastly (my brother
still grum and sullen), I gave them a piece of eight
to drink, and took my leave. This visit of mine
offended him extreamly ; for, when my mother some
36

HIS AUTOBIOGR.APHY
time after spoke to him of a reconciliation, and of
her wishes to see us on good terms together, and
that we might live for the future as brothers, he
said I had insulted him in such a manner before his
people that he could never forget or forgive it. In
this, however, he was mistaken.
My father received the governor's letter with some
apparent surprise, but said little of it to me for some
days, when Capt. Holmes returning he showed it
to him, ask'd him if he knew Keith, and what kind
of man he was ; adding his opinion that he must be
of small discretion to think of setting a boy up in
business who wanted yet three years of being at
man's estate. Holmes said what he could in favor
of the project, but my father was clear in the impro
priety of it, and at last gave a flat denial to it. Then
he wrote a civil letter to Sir William, thanking him
for the patronage he had so kindly offered me, but
decUning to assist me as yet in setting up, I being,
in his opinion, too young to be trusted with the
management of a business so important, and for
which the preparation must be so expensive.
My friend and companion Collins, who was a
clerk in the post-office, pleas'd with the account I
gave him of my new country, determined to go
thither also ; and, while I waited for my father's
determination, he set out before me by land to
Rhode Island, leaving his books, which were a
pretty collection of mathematicks and natural philo
sophy, to come with mine and me to New York,
where he propos'd to wait for me.
My father, tho' he did not approve Sir William's
proposition, was yet pleas'd that I had been able
to obtain so advantageous a character from a person
of such note where I had resided, and that I had
been so industrious and careful as to equip myself
so handsomely in so short a time ; therefore, se.eing
no prospect of an accommodation between my
37

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
brother and me, he gave his consent to my returning
again to Philadelphia, advis'd me to behave respect
fully to the people there, endeavor to obtain the
general esteem, and avoid lampooning and libeling,
to which he thought I had too much inclination;
telling me, that by steady industry and a prudent
parsimony I might save enough by the time I was
one-and-twenty to set me up ; and that, if I came
near the matter, he would help me out with the
rest. This was all I could obtain, except some
small gifts as tokens of his and my mother's love,
when I embark'd again for New York, now with
their approbation and their blessing.
The sloop putting in at Newport, Rhode Island,
I visited my brother John, who had been married
and settled there some years. He received me very
affectionately, for he always lov'd me. A friend of
his, one Vernon, having some money due to him in
Pensilvania, about thirty-five pounds currency, de
sired I would receive it for him, and keep it till
I had his directions what to remit it in. Accord
ingly, he gave me an order. This afterwards
occasion'd me a good deal of uneasiness.
At Newport we took in a number of passengers
for New York, among which were two young
women, companions, and a grave, sensible, matron-
Uke Quaker woman, with her attendants. I had
shown an obliging readiness to do her some little
services, which impress'd her I suppose with a
degree of good will toward me ; therefore, when
she saw a daily growing familiarity between me and
the two young women, which they appear'd to
encourage, she took me aside, and said, " Young
man, I am concern'd for thee, as thou has no friend
with thee, and seems not to know much of the
world, or of the snares youth is expos'd to; depend
upon it, those are very bad women; I can see it
in all their actions ; and if thee art not upon thy
38

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
guard, they will draw thee into some danger ; they
are strangers to thee, and I advise thee, in a friendly
concern for thy welfare, to have no acquaintance
with them." As I seem'd at first not to think so
ill of them as she did, she mentioned some things
she had observ'd and heard that had escap'd my
notice, but now convinc'd me she was right. I
thank'd her for her kind advice, and promis'd to
follow it. When we arriv'd at New York, they
told me where they liv'd, and invited me to come
and see them ; but I avoided it, and it was well I
did; for the next day the captain miss'd a silver
spoon and some other things, that had been taken
out of his cabbin, and, knowing that these were a
couple of strumpets, he got a warrant to search their
lodgings, found the stolen goods, and had the
thieves punish'd. So, tho' we had escap'd a sunken
rock, which we scrap'd upon in the passage, I
thought this escape of rather more importance to
me. At New York I found my friend Collins, who
had arriv'd there some time before me. We had
been intimate from children, and had read the same
books together ; but he had the advantage of more
time for reading and studying, and a wonderful
genius for mathematical learning, in which he far
outstript me. While I liv'd in Boston, most of my
hours of leisure for conversation were spent with
him, and he continu'd a sober as well as an indus
trious lad ; was much respected for his learning by
several of the clergy and other gentlemen, and
seemed to promise making a good figure in life.
But, during my absence, he had acquir'd a habit of
sotting with brandy ; and I found by his own
account, and what I heard from others, that he had
been drunk every day since his arrival at New
York, and behav'd very oddly. He had gam'd, too,
and lost his money, so that I was oblig'd to dis-
39

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
charge his lodgings, and defray his expenses to and
at Philadelphia, which prov'd extremely inconvenient
to me.
The then governor of New York, Burnet (son
of Bishop Burnet), hearing from the captain that
a young man, one of his passengers, had a great
many books, desir'd he would bring me to see him.
I waited upon him accordingly, and should have
taken Collins with me but that he was not sober.
The gov'r. treated me with great civility, show'd
me his library, which was a very large one, and we
had a good deal of conversation about books and
authors. This was the second governor who had
done me the honor to take notice of me ; which, to
a poor boy like me, was very pleasing.
We proceeded to Philadelphia. I received on
the way Vernon's money, without which we could
hardly have finish'd our journey. Collins wished
to be employ'd in some counting - house ; but,
whether they discover'd his dramming by his breath,
or by his behaviour, tho' he had some recommenda
tions, he met with no success in any application,
and continu'd lodging and boarding at the same
house with me, and at my expense. Knowing I
had that money of Vernon's, he was continually
borrowing of me, still promising repayment as soon
as he should be in business. At length he had got
so much of it that I was distress'd to think what I
should do in case of being call'd on to remit it.
His drinking continu'd, about which we some
times quarrell'd; for, when a little intoxicated, he
was very fractious. Once, in a boat on the Dela
ware with some other young men, he refused to row
in his turn. " I will be row'd home," says he.
" We will not row you," says I. " You must, or
stay all night on the water," says he, "just as you
please." The others said, " Let us row ; what
signifies it ? " But, my mind being soured with his
40

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
other conduct, I continu'd to refuse. So he swore
he would make me row, or throw me overboard ;
and coming along, stepping on the thwarts, toward
me, when he came up and struck at me, I clapped
my hand under his crutch, and, rising, pitched him
head-foremost into the river. I knew he was a good
swimmer, and so was under little concern about
him ; but before he could get round to lay hold of
the boat, we had with a few strokes puU'd her out
of his reach ; and ever when he drew near the
boat, we ask'd if he would row, striking a few
strokes to slide her away from him. He was ready
to die with vexation, and obstinately would not
promise to row. However, seeing him at last be
ginning to tire, we lifted him in and brought him
home dripping wet in the evening. We hardly ex-
chang'd a civil word afterwards, and a West India
captain, who had a commission to procure a tutor
for the sons of a gentleman at Barbadoes, happen
ing to meet with him, agreed to carry him thither.
He left me then, promising to remit me the first
money he should receive in order to discharge the
debt ; but I never heard of him after.
The breaking into this money of Vernon's was
one of the first great errata of my life ; and this
affair show'd that my father was not much out in
his judgment when he suppos'd me too young to
manage business of importance. But Sir William,
on reading his letter, said he was too prudent.
There was great difference in persons ; and dis
cretion did not always accompany years, nor was
youth always without it. " And since he will not
set you up," says he, " I will do it myself. Give
me an inventory of the things necessary to be had
from England, and I will send for them. You
shall repay me when you are able ; I am resolv'd to
have a good printer here, and I am sure you must
succeed." This was spoken with such an appear-
41

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
ance of cordiality, that I had not the least doubt of
his meaning what he said. I had hitherto kept the
proposition of my setting up, a secret in Phila
delphia, and I still kept it. Had it been known
that I depended on the governor, probably some
friend, that knew him better, would have advis'd
me not to rely on him, as I afterwards heard it as
his known character to be liberal of promises which
he never meant to keep. Yet, unsolicited as he
was by me, how could I think his generous offers
insincere .'' I believ'd him one of the best men in
the world.
I presented him an inventory of a little print'g-
house, amounting by my computation to about one
hundred pounds sterling. He lik'd it, but ask'd
me if my being on the spot in England to chuse the
types, and see that every thing was good of the
kind, might not be of some advantage. "Then,"
says he, " when there, you may make acquaintances,
and establish correspondences in the bookselling
and stationery way." I agreed that this might be
advantageous. " Then," says he, " get yourself
ready to go with Annis ; " which was the annual
ship, and the only one at that time usually passing
between London and Philadelphia. But it would
be some months before Annis sail'd, so I continu'd
working with Keimer, fretting about the money
Collins had got from me, and in daily apprehensions
of being call'd upon by Vernon, which, however,
did not happen for some years after.
I beheve I have omitted mentioning that, in my
first voyage from Boston, being becalm'd off Block
Island, our people set about catching cod, and hauled
up a great many. Hitherto I had stuck to my reso
lution of not eating animal food, and on this occasion
I consider'd, with my master Tryon, the taking
every fish as a kind of unprovoked murder, since
none of them had, or ever could do us any injury
42

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
that might justify the slaughter. All this seemed
very reasonable. But I had formerly been a great
lover of fish, and, when this came hot out of the
frying-pan, it smelt admirably well. I balanc'd
some time between principle and inclination, till I
recollected that, when the fish were opened, I saw
smaller fish taken out of their stomachs ; then
thought I, " If you eat one another, I don't see why
we mayn't eat you." So I din'd upon cod very
heartily, and continued to eat with other people,
returning only now and then occasionally to a vege
table diet. So convenient a thing is it to be a
reasonable creature, since it enables one to find or
make a reason for every thing one has a mind
to do.
Keimer and I liv'd on a pretty good familiar
footing, and agreed tolerably well, for he suspected
nothing of my setting up. He retained a great deal
of his old enthusiasms and lov'd argumentation.
We therefore had many disputations. I used to
work him so with my Socratic method, and had
trepann'd him so often by questions apparently so
distant from any point we had in hand, and yet by
degrees lead to the point, and brought him into
difficulties and contradictions, that at last he grew
ridiculously cautious, and would hardly answer me
the most common question, without asking first,
" What do you intend to infer from thatV However,
it gave him so high an opinion of my abilities in the
confuting way, that he seriously proposed my being
his colleague in a project he had of setting up a new
sect. He was to preach the doctrines, and I was to
confound all opponents. When he came to explain
with me upon the doctrines, I found several conun
drums which I objected to, unless I might have my
way a Httle to, and introduce some of mine.
Keimer wore his beard at full length, because
somewhere in the Mosaic law it is said, " Thou shalt
43

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
not mar the corners of thy beard" He likewise kept
the Seventh day. Sabbath; and these two points
were essentials with him. I dislik'd both ; but
agreed to admit them upon condition of his adopting
the doctrine of using no animal food. " I doubt,"
said he, "my constitution will not bear that." I
assur'd him it would, and that he would be the
better for it. He was usually a great glutton, and
I promised myself some diversion in half starving
him. He agreed to try the practice, if I would
keep him company. I did so, and we held it for
three months. We had our victuals dress'd, and
brought to us regularly by a woman in the neigh
borhood, who had from me a list of forty dishes,
to be prepar'd for us at different times, in all which
there was neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, and the whim
suited me the better at this time from the cheapness
of it, not costing us above eighteenpence sterling
each per week. I have since kept several Lents
most strictly, leaving the common diet for that, and
that for the common, abruptly, without the least in
convenience, so that I think there is little in the
advice of making those changes by easy gradations.
I went on pleasantly, but poor Keimer suffered
grievously, tired of the project, long'd for the flesh-
pots of Egypt, and order'd a roast pig. He invited
me and two women friends to dine with him ; but,
it being brought too soon upon table, he could
not resist the temptation, and ate the whole before
we came.
I had made some courtship during this time to
Miss Read. I had a great respect and affection for
her, and had some reason to believe she had the
same for me; but, as I was about to take a long
voyage, and we were both very young, only a little
above eighteen, it was thought most prudent by her
mother to prevent our going too far at present, as
a marriage, if it was to take place, would be more
44

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
convenient after my return, when I should be, as I
expected, set up in my business. Perhaps, too, she
thought my expectations not so well founded as I
imagined them to be.
My chief acquaintances at this time were Charles
Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph, all
lovers of reading. The two first were clerks to an
eminent scrivener or conveyancer in the town,
Charles Brogden; the other was clerk to a mer
chant. Watson was a pious, sensible young man, of
great integrity ; the others rather more lax in their
principles of religion, particularly Ralph, who, as
well as Collins, had been unsettled by me, for
which they both made me suffer. Osborne was
sensible, candid, frank ; sincere and affectionate to
his friends ; but, in literary matters, too fond of
critidsing. Ralph was ingenious, genteel in his
manners, and extremely eloquent ; I think I never
knew a prettier talker. Both of them great admirers
of poetry, and began to try their hands in little
pieces. Many pleasant walks we four had together
on Sundays into the woods, near Schuylkill, where
we read to one another, and conferr'd on what we
read. Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the study of poetry,
not doubting but he might become eminent in it,
and make his fortune by it, alleging that the best
poets must, when they first began to write, make as
many faults as he did. Osborne dissuaded him,
assur'd him he had no genius for poetry, and
advis'd him to think of nothing beyond the business
he was bred to ; that, in the mercantile way, tho'
he had no stock, he might, by his diligence and
punctuality, recommend himself to employment as a
factor, and in time acquire wherewith to trade on
his own account. I approv'd the amusing one's
self with poetry now and then, so far as to improve
one's language, but no farther. 45

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
On this it was propos'd that we should each of us,
at our next meeting, produce a piece of our own
composing, in order to improve by our mutual
observations, criticisms, and corrections. As lan
guage and expression were what we had in view,
we excluded all considerations of invention by
agreeing that the task should be a version of the
eighteenth Psalm, which describes the descent of a
Deity. When the time of our meeting drew nigh,
Ralph called on me first, and let me know his piece
was ready. I told him I had been busy, and,
having little inclination, had done nothing. He
then show'd me his piece for my opinion, and I much
approv'd it, as it appear'd to me to have great merit.
" Now," says he, " Osborne never will allow the
least merit in any thing of mine, but makes looo
criticisms out of mere envy. He is not so jealous of
you ; I wish, therefore, you would take this piece,
and produce it as yours ; I will pretend not to have
had time, and so produce nothing. We shall then
see what he will say to it." It was agreed, and I
immediately transcrib'd it, that it might appear in
my own hand.
We met ; Watson's performance was read ; there
were some beauties in it, but many defects.
Osborne's was read ; it was much better ; Ralph
did it justice ; remarked some faults, but applauded
the beauties. He himself had nothing to produce.
I was backward ; seemed desirous of being excused ;
had not had sufficient time to correct, etc. ; but no
excuse could be admitted ; produce I must. It was
read and repeated ; Watson and Osborne gave up
the contest, and join'd in applauding it. Ralph only
made some criticisms, and propos'd some amend
ments; but I defended my text. Osborne was
against Ralph, and told him he was no better a
critic than poet, so he dropt the argument. As
they two went home together, Osborne expressed
46

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
himself still more strongly in favor of what he
thought my production; having restrain'd himself
before, as he said, lest I should think it flattery.
" But who would have imagin'd," said he, " that
Franklin had been capable of such a performance ;
such painting, such force, such fire ! He has even
improv'd the original. In his common conversation
he seems to have no choice of words ; he hesitates
and blunders ; and yet, good God ! how he writes ! "
When we next met, Ralph discovered the trick we
had plaid him, and Osborne was a little laught at.
This transaction fixed Ralph in his resolution of
becoming a poet. I did all I could to dissuade him
from it, but he continued scribbling verses till Pope
cured him. He became, however, a pretty good
prose writer. More of him hereafter. But, as I
may not have occasion again to mention the other
two, I shall just remark here, that Watson died in
my arms a few years after, much lamented, being
the best of our set. Osborne went to the West
Indies, where he became an eminent lawyer and
made money, but died young. He and I had made
a serious agreement, that the one who happen'd
first to die should, if possible, make a friendly visit
to the other, and acquaint him how he found things
in that separate state. But he never fulfill'd his
promise. The governor, seeming to like my company, had
me frequently to his house, and his setting me up
was always mention'd as a fixed thing. I was to
take with me letters recommendatory to a number
of his friends, besides the letter of credit to furnish
me with the necessary money for purchasing the
press and types, paper, etc. For these letters I was
appointed to call at different times, when they were
to be ready; but a future time was still named.
Thus he went on till the ship, whose departure too
had been several times postponed, was on the point
47

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
of sailing. Then, when I call'd to take my leave
and receive the letters, his secretary, Dr Bard, came
out to me and said the governor was extremely busy
in writing, but would be down at Newcastle before
the ship, and there the letters would be delivered
to me.
Ralph, though married, and having one child, had
determined to accompany me in this voyage. It
was thought he intended to establish a correspond
ence, and obtain goods to sell on commission ; but I
found afterwards, that, thro' some discontent with
his wife's relations, he purposed to leave her on
their hands, and never return again. Having taken
leave of my friends, and interchang'd some promises
with Miss Read, I left Philadelphia in the ship,
which anchor'd at Newcastle. The governor was
there ; but when I went to his lodging, the secretary
came to me from him with the civillest message in
the world, that he could not then see me, being
engaged in business of the utmost importance, but
should send the letters to me on board, wished me
heartily a good voyage and a speedy return, etc. I.
returned on board a little puzzled, but still not
doubting. Mr Andrew Hamilton, a famous lawyer of Phila
delphia, had taken passage in the same ship for
himself and son, and with Mr Denham, a Quaker
merchant, and Messrs Onion and Russel, masters
of an iron work in Maryland, had engag'd the
great cabin ; so that Ralph and I were forced to
take up with a berth in the steerage, and none oh
board knowing us, were considered as ordinary per
sons. But Mr Hamilton and his son (it was James,
since governor) return'd from Newcastle to Phila
delphia, the father being recall'd by a great fee to
plead for a seized ship ; and, just before we sail'd.
Colonel French coming on board, and showing me
great respect, I was more taken notice of, and, with
48

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
my friend Ralph, invited by the other gentlemen to
come into the cabin, there being now room. Ac
cordingly, we remov'd thither.
Understanding that Colonel French had brought
on board the governor's despatches, I ask'd the
captain for those letters that were to be under my
care. He said all were put into the bag together
and he could not then come at them ; but, before
we landed in England, I should have an opportunity
of picking them out; so I was satisfied for the
present, and we proceeded on our vovage. We had
a sociable company in the cabin, and lived uncom
monly well, having the addition of all Mr Hamilton's
stores, who had laid in plentifully. In this passage
Mr Denham contracted a friendship for me that
continued during his life. The voyage was other
wise not a pleasant one, as we had a great deal of
bad weather.
When we came into the Channel, the captain kept
his word with me, and gave me an opportunity of
examining the bag for the governor's letters. I
found none upon which my name was put as under
my care. I picked out six or seven, that, by the
handwriting, I thought might be the promised
letters, especially as one of them was directed to
Basket, the king's printer, and another to some sta
tioner. We arriv'd in London the 24th of Decem
ber, 1724. I waited upon the stationer, who came
first in my way, delivering the letter as from Gover
nor Keith, " I don't know such a person," says he ;
but, opening the letter, " O ! this is from Riddles-
den. I have lately found him to be a compleat
rascal, and I will have nothing to do with him, nor
receive any letters from him." So, putting the letter
into my hand, he turn'd on his heel and left me to
serve some customer. I was surprized to find these
were not the governor's letters ; and, after recollect
ing and comparing circumstances, I began to doubt
D 49

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
his sincerity. I found my friend Denham, and
opened the whole affair to him. He let me into
Keith's character ; told me there was not the least
probability that he had written any letters for me ;
that no one, who knew him, had the smallest de
pendence on him ; and he laught at the notion of the
governor's giving me a letter of credit, having, as
he said, no credit to give. On my expressing some
concern about what I should do, he advised me to
endeavor getting some employment in the way of
my business. " Among the printers here," said he,
" you will improve yourself, and when you return
to America, you will set up to greater advantage."
We both of us happen'd to know, as well as the
stationer, that Riddlesden, the attorney, was a very
knave. He had half ruin'd Miss Read's father by
persuading him to be bound for him. By this letter
it appear'd there was a secret scheme on foot to the
prejudice of Hamilton (suppos'd to be then coming
over with us) ; and that Keith was concerned in it
with Riddlesden. Denham, who was a friend of
Hamilton's thought he ought to be acquainted with
it ; so, when he arriv'd in England, which was soon
after, partly from resentment and ill-will to Keith
and Riddlesden, and partly from good-will to him,
I waited on him, and gave him the letter. He
thank'd me cordially, the information being of im
portance to him ; and from that time he became my
friend, greatly to my advantage afterwards on many
occasions. But what shall we think of a governor's playing
such pitiful tricks, and imposing so grossly on a poor
ignorant boy ! It was a habit he had acquired. He
wish'd to please everybody ; and, having little to
give, he gave expectations. He was otherwise an
ingenious, sensible man, a pretty good writer, and
a good governor for the people, tho' not for his
constituents, the proprietaries, whose instructions he
5°

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
sometimes disregarded. Several of our best laws
were of his planning and passed during his ad
ministration. Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We
took lodgings together in Little Britain at three
shillings and sixpence a week — as much as we could
then afford. He found some relations, but they
were poor, and unable to assist him. He now let
me know his intentions of remdning in London,
and that he never meant to return to Philadelphia.
He had brought no money with him, the whole he
could muster having been expended in paying his
passage. I had fifteen pistoles ; so he borrowed
occasionally of me to subsist, while he was looking
out for business. He first endeavored to get into
the playhouse, believing himself qualify'd for an
actor; but Wilkes, to whom he apply'd, advis'd
him candidly not to think of that employment, as it
was impossible he should succeed in it. Then he
propos'd to Roberts, a publisher in Paternoster Row,
to write for him a weekly paper like the Spectator,
on certain conditions, which Roberts did not ap
prove. Then he endeavored to get employment as
a hackney writer, to copy for the stationers and
lawyers about the Temple, but could find no
vacancy. I immediately got into work at Palmer's, then a
famous printing-house in Bartholomew Close, and
here I continu'd near a year. I was pretty diligent,
but spent with Ralph a good deal of my earnings in
going to plays and other places of amusement. We
had together consumed all my pistoles, and now just
rubbed on from hand to mouth. He seem'd quite
to forget his wife and child, and I, by degrees, my
engagements with Miss Read, to whom I never
wrote more than one letter, and that was to let her
know I was not likely soon to return. This was
another of the great errata of my life, which I should
51

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
wish to correct if I were to live it over again. In
fact, by our expenses, I was constantly kept unable
to pay my passage.
At Palmer's I was employed in composing for
the second edition of Wollaston's " Religion of
Nature." Some of his reasonings not appearing to
me well founded, I wrote a little metaphysical piece
in which I made remarks on them. It was entitled
" A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure
and Pain," I inscribed it to my friend Ralph ; I
printed a small number. It occasion'd my being
more consider'd by Mr Palmer as a young man
of some ingenuity, tho' he seriously expostulated
with me upon the principles of my pamphlet, which
to him appear'd abominable. My printing this
pamphlet was another erratum. While I lodg'd
in Little Britain, I made an acquaintance with one
Wilcox, a bookseller, whose shop was at the next
door. He had an immense collection of second
hand books. Circulating libraries were not then in
use ; but we agreed that, on certain reasonable
terms, which I have now forgotten, I might take,
read, and return any of his books. This I esteem'd
a great advantage, and I made as much use of it as
I could. My pamphlet by some means falling into the
hands of one Lyons, a surgeon, author of a book
entitled " The Infallibility of Human Judgment," it
occasioned an acquaintance between us. He took
great notice of me, called on me often to converse
on those subjects, carried me to the Horns, a pale
alehouse in  Lane, Cheapside, and introduced
me to Dr Mandeville, author of the " Fable of the
Bees," who had a club there, of which he was the
soul, being a most facetious, entertaining companion.
Lyons, too, introduced me to Dr Pemberton, at
Batson's Coffee-house, who promis'd to give me an
opportunity, some time or other, of seeing Sir Isaac
52

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Newton, of which I was extreamely desirous ; but
this never happened.
I had brought over a few curiosities, among which
the principal was a purse made of the asbestos,
which purifies by fire. Sir Hans Sloane heard of
it, came to see me, and invited me to his house in
Bloomsbury Square, where he show'd me all his
curiosities, and persuaded me to let him add that to
the number, for which he paid me handsomely.
In our house there lodg'd a young woman, a mil
liner, who, I think, had a shop in the Cloisters.
She had been genteelly bred, was sensible and
hvely, and of most pleasing conversation. Ralph
read plays to her in the evenings, they grew inti
mate, she took another lodging, and he followed
her. They hv'd together some time ; but, he being
still out of business, and her income not sufficient
to maintain them with her chUd, he took a resolu
tion of going from London, to try for a country
school, which he thought himself well qualified to
undertake, as he wrote an excellent hand, and was
a master of arithmetic and accounts. This, how
ever, he deemed a business below him, and confi
dent of future better fortune, when he should be
unwiUing to have it known that he once was so
meanly employed, he changed his name, and did
me the honor to assume mine ; for I soon after had
a letter from him, acquainting me that he was set
tled in a small village (in Berkshire, I think it was,
where he taught reading and writing to ten or a
dozen boys, at sixpence each per week), recom
mending Mrs T  to my care, and desiring me
to write to him, directing for Mr Franklin, school
master, at such a place.
He continued to write frequently, sending me
large specimens of an epic poem which he was then
composing, and desiring my remarks and correc
tions. These I gave him from time to time, but
53

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
endeavor'd rather to discourage his proceeding.
One of Young's Satires was then just published. I
copy'd and sent him a great part of it, which set in
a strong light the folly of pursuing the Muses with
any hope of advancement by them. All was in
vain; sheets of the poem continued to come by
every post. In the mean time, Mrs T  , having
on his account lost her friends and business, was
often in distresses, and us'd to send for me, and
borrow what I could spare to help her out of them.
I grew fond of her company, and, being at that time
under no rehgious restraint, and presuming upon
my importance to her, I attempted familiarities
(another erratum) which she repuls'd with a proper
resentment, and acquainted him with my behaviour.
This made a breach between us ; and, when he
returned again to London, he let me know he
thought I had cancell'd all the obligations he had
been under to me. So I found I was never to ex
pect his repaying me what I lent to him, or advanc'd
for him. This, however, was not then of much
consequence, as he was totally unable ; and in the
loss of his friendship I found myself relieved from
a burthen. I now began to think of getting a
little money beforehand, and, expecting better
work, I left Palmer's to work at Watts's, near
Lincoln's Inn Fields, a still greater printing-house.
Here I continued all the rest of my stay in
London. At my first admission into this printing-house I
took to working at press, imagining I felt a want of
the bodily exercise I had been us'd to in America,
where presswork is mix'd with composing. I drank
only water ; the other workmen, near fifty in num
ber, were great guzzlers of beer. On occasion, I
carried up and down stairs a large form of types in
each hand, when others carried but one in both
hands. They wondered to see, from this and several
54

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
instances, that the Water-American, as they called
me, was stronger than themselves, who drank strong
beer ! We had an alehouse boy who attended
always in the house to supply the workmen. My
companion at the press drank every day a pint before
breakfast, a pint at breakfast with his bread and
cheese, a pint between breakfast and dinner, a pint
at dinner, a pint in the afternoon about six o'clock,
and another when he had done his day's work. I
thought it a detestable custom; but it was neces
sary, he suppos'd, to drink strong beer, that he
might be strong to labor. I endeavored to convince
him that the bodily strength afforded by beer could
only be in proportion to the grain or flour of the
barley dissolved in the water of which it was made ;
that there was more flour in a pennyworth of bread ;
and therefore, if he would eat that with a pint of
water, it would give him more strength than a
quart of beer. He drank on, however, and had
four or five shillings to pay out of his wages every
Saturday night for that muddling liquor ; an expense
I was free from. And thus these poor devils keep
themselves always under.
Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have me in
the composing-room, I left the pressmen ; a new
bien venu or sum for drink, being five shillings, was
demanded of me by the compositors. I thought it
an imposition, as I had paid below ; the master
thought so too, and forbad my paying it. I stood
out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered
as an excommunicate, and had so many little pieces
of private mischief done me, by mixing my sorts,
transposing my pages, breaking my matter, etc.,
etc., if I were ever so little out of the room, and all
ascribed to the chappel ghost, which they said ever
haunted those not regularly admitted, that, notwith
standing the master's protection, I found myself
oblig'd to comply and pay the money, convinc'd of
55

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
the folly of being on ill terms with those one is to
live with continually.
I was now on a fair footing with them, and soon
acquir'd considerable influence. I propos'd some
reasonable alterations in their chappel ^ laws, and
carried them against all opposition. From my ex
ample, a great part of them left their muddling
breakfast of beer, and bread, and cheese, finding they
could with me be suppl'd from a neighboring house
with a large porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled
with pepper, crumb'd with bread, and a bit of butter
in it, for the price of a pint of beer, viz., three
half-pence. This was a more comfortable as well
as cheaper breakfast, and kept their heads clearer.
Those who continued sotting with beer all day, were
often, by not paying, out of credit at the alehouse,
and us'd to make interest with me to get beer ; their
light, as they phrased it, being out. I watch'd the
pay-table on Saturday night, and collected what I
stood engag'd for them, having to pay sometimes
near thirty shillings a week on their accounts. This,
and my being esteem'd a pretty good riggite, that
is, a jocular verbal satirist, supported my conse
quence in the society. My constant attendance (I
never making a St. Monday) recommended me to
the master ; and my uncommon quickness at com
posing occasioned my being put upon all work of
dispatch, which was generally better paid. So I
went on now very agreeably.
My lodging in Little Britain being too remote, I
^ " A printing-house is always called a chapel by the workmen,
the origin of which appears to have been, that printing was first
carried on in England in an antient chapel converted into a print
ing-house, and the title has been preserved by tradition The
bien venu among the printers answers to the terms entrance and
footing among mechanics ; thus a journeyman, on entering a
printing-house, was accustomed to pay one or more gallons of
beer for the good of the chapel : this custom was falling into dis
use thirty years ago ; it is very properly rejected entirely in the
United States."— W. T. F.
56

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
found another in Duke-street, opposite to the Romish
Chapel. It was two pair of stairs backwards,
at an Italian warehouse. A widow lady kept the
house ; she had a daughter, and a maid servant, and
a journeyman who attended the warehouse, but
lodg'd abroad. After sending to inquire my char
acter at the house where I last lodg'd she agreed
to take me in at the same rate, 3s. 6d. per week ;
cheaper, as she said, from the protection she ex
pected in having a man lodge in the house. She
was a widow, an elderly woman ; had been bred a
Protestant, being a clergyman's daughter, but was
converted to the Catholic rehgion by her husband,
whose memory she much revered ; had lived much
among people of distinction, and knew a thousand
anecdotes of them as far back as the times of Charles
the Second. She was lame in her knees with the
gout, and, therefore, seldom stirred out of her room,
so sometimes wanted company ; and hers was so
highly amusing to me, that I was sure to spend an
evening with her whenever she desired it. Our
supper was only half an anchovy each, on a very
littie strip of bread and butter, and half a pint of ale
between us ; but the entertainment was in her con
versation. My always keeping good hours, and
giving little trouble in the family, made her unwill
ing to part with me ; so that, when I talk'd of a
lodging I had heard of, nearer my business, for two
shilhngs a week, which, intent as I now was on
saving money, made some difference, she bid me
not think of it, for she would abate me two shil
lings a week for the future ; so I remained with her
at one shilling and sixpence as long as I staid in
London. In a garret of her house there lived a maiden lady
of seventy, in the most retired manner, of whom
my landlady gave me this account : that she was a
Roman Cathohc, had been sent abroad when young,
57

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
and lodg'd in a nunnery with an intent of becoming
a nun ; but, the country not agreeing with her, she
returned to England, where, there being no nunnery,
she had vow'd to lead the life of a nun, as near as
might be done in those circumstances. Accord
ingly, she had given all her estate to charitable uses,
reserving only twelve pounds a year to live on, and
out of this sum she still gave a great deal in charity,
living herself on water-gruel only, and using no fire
but to boil it. She had lived many years in that
garret, being permitted to remain there gratis by
successive Catholic tentants of the house below, as
they deemed it a blessing to have her there. A priest
visited her to confess her every day. " I have ask'd
her," says my landlady, "how she, as she hv'd,
could possibly find so much employment for a con
fessor V " Oh," said she, " it is impossible to avoid
vain thoughts." I was permitted once to visit her.
She was chearful and polite, and convers'd plea
santly. The room was clean, but had no other
furniture than a matras, a table with a crucifix
and book, a stool which she gave me to sit on, and
a picture over the chimney of Saint Veronica dis
playing her handkerchief, with the miraculous figure
of Christ's bleeding face on it, which she explained
to me with great seriousness. She look'd pale, but
was never sick; and I give it as another instance
on how small an income, life and health may be
supported. At Watts's printing-house I contracted an acquaint
ance with an ingenious young man, one Wygate,
who, having wealthy relations, had been better
educated than most printers ; was a tolerable Latin-
ist, spoke French, and lov'd reading. I taught him
and a friend of his to swim at twice going into the
river, and they soon became good swimmers. They
introduc'd me to some gentlemen from the country,
who went to Chelsea by water to see the College
58

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our return, at the
request of the company, whose curiosity Wygate
had excited, I stripped and leaped into the river,
and swam from near Chelsea to Blackfryar's, per
forming on the way many feats of activity, both
upon and under water, that surpris'd and pleas'd
those to whom they were novelties.
I had from a child been ever delighted with this
exercise, had studied and practis'd all Thevenot's
motions and positions, added some of my own, aim
ing at the graceful and easy as well as the useful.
All these I took this occasion of exhibiting to the
company, and was much flatter'd by their admira
tion ; and Wygate, who was desirous of becoming
a master, grew more and more attach'd to me on
that account, as well as from the similarity of our
studies. He at length proposed to me travelling all
over Europe together, supporting ourselves every
where by working at our business. I was once
inchned to it ; but, mentioning it to my good friend
Mr Denham, with whom I often spent an hour
when I had leisure, he dissuaded me from it, advis
ing me to think only of returning to Pennsilvania,
which he was now about to do.
I must record one trait of this good man's char
acter. 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 applica
tion to business as a merchant, he acquir'd a plen
tiful fortune in a few years. Returning to England
in the ship with me, he invited his old creditors to
an entertainment, at which he thank'd 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.
He now told me he was about to return to Phila-
59

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
delphia, and should carry over a great quantity of
goods in order to open a store there. He propos'd
to take me over as his clerk, to keep his books, in
which he would instruct me, copy his letters, and
attend the store. He added, that, as soon as I
should be acquainted with mercantile business, he
would promote me by sending me with a cargo of
flour and bread, etc., to the West Indies, and procure
me commissions from others which would be profit
able ; and, if I manag'd well, would establish me
handsomely. The thing pleas'd me; for I was
grown tired of London, remembered with pleasure
the happy months I had spent in Pennsylvania, and
wish'd again to see it ; therefore I immediately
agreed on the terms of fifty pounds a year, Penn
sylvania money; less, indeed, than my present
gettings as a compositor, but affording a better
prospect. I now took leave of printing, as I thought, for
ever, and was daily employed in my new business,
going about with Mr Denham among the tradesmen
to purchase various articles, and seeing them pack'd
up, doing errands, calling upon workmen to dis
patch, etc. ; and, when all was on board, I had a
few days' leisure. On one of these days, I was, to
my surprise, sent for by a great man I knew only
by name, a Sir William Wyndham, and I waited upon
him. He had heard by some means or other of my
swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriar's, and of my
teaching Wygate and another young man to swim
in a few hours. He had two sons, about to set out
on their travels ; he wish'd to have them first taught
swimming, and proposed to gratify me handsomely
if I would teach them. They were not yet come
to town, and my stay was uncertain, so I could not
undertake it ; but, from this incident, I thought it
likely that, if I were to remain in England and open
a swimming-school, I might get a good deal of
do

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
money ; and it struck me so strongly, that, had the
overture been sooner made me, probably I should
not so soon have returned to America. After many
years, you and I had something of more importance
to do with one of these sons of Sir William Wynd
ham, become Earl of Egremont, which I shall men
tion in its place.
Thus I spent about eighteen months in London ;
most part of the time I work'd hard at my business,
and spent but little upon myself except in seeing
plays and in books. My friend Ralph had kept
me poor ; he owed me about twenty-seven pounds,
which I was now never likely to receive ; a great
sum out of my small earnings ! I lov'd him, not
withstanding, for he had many amiable qualities. I
had by no means improv'd my fortune ; but I had
picked up some very ingenious acquaintance, whose
conversation was of great advantage to me ; and I
had read considerably.
We sail'd from Gravesend on the 23rd of July,
1726. For the incidents of the voyage, I refer you
to my Journal, where you will find them all minutely
related. Perhaps the most important part of that
journal is the plan"^ to be found in it, which I
formed at sea, for regulating my future conduct in
fife. It is the more remarkable, as being formed
when I was so young, and yet being pretty faith
fully adhered to quite thro' to old age.
We landed in Philadelphia on the nth of Oct-
ber, where I found sundry alterations. Keith was no
longer governor, being superseded by Major Gordon.
I met him walking the streets as a common citizen.
He seem'd a littie asham'd at seeing me, but pass'd
without saying any thing. I should have been as
much asham'd at seeing Miss Read, had not her
friends, despairing with reason of my return after
1 The " Journal " was printed by Sparks, from a copy made at
Reading in 1787. But it does not contain the Plan. — Ed.
61

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
the receipt of my letter, persuaded her to marry
another, one Rogers, a potter, which was done in
my absence. With him, however, she was never
happy, and soon parted from him, refusing to cohabit
with him or bear his name, it being now said that
he had another wife. He was a worthless fellow,
tho' an excellent workman, which was the tempta
tion to her friends. He got into debt, ran away in
1727 or 1728, went to the West Indies, and died
there. Keimer had got a better house, a shop well
suppl/d with stationery, plenty of new types, a
number of hands, tho' none good, and seem'd to
have a great deal of business.
Mr Denham took a store in Water-street, where
we open'd our goods ; I attended the business dili
gently, studied accounts, and grew, in a little time,
expert at selling. We lodg'd and boarded together ;
he counsell'd me as a father, having a sincere regard
for me. I respected and loved him, and we might
have gone on together very happy ; but, in the
beginning of February, 1727^, when I had just pass'd
my twenty-first year, we both were taken ill. My
distemper was a pleurisy, which very nearly carried
me off. I suffered a good deal, gave up the point
in my mind, and was rather disappointed when I
found myself recovering, regretting, in some degree,
that I must now, some time or other, have all that
disagreeable work to do over again. I forget what
his distemper was ; it held him a long time, and at
length carried him off. He left me a small legacy
in a nuncupative will, as a token of his kindness for
me, and he left me once more to the wide world ;
for the store was taken into the care of his executors,
and my employment under him ended.
My brother-in-law. Holmes, being now at Phila
delphia, advised my return to my business ; and
Keimer tempted me, with an offer of large wages by
the year, to come and take the management of his
62

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
printing- bouse, rba: he might better attend his
jradooer's shop. I had heird i bad character of
h.im in London rrom his wife md her friends, and
WiS Dot fond or having anv mere to do wiih. him. I
trfd for fanner emplovr:ent is a mercnsnr's clerk ;
bnt, nc: readilj meedng \riih snv. I clos'd a^sin
with Keimer, I round in his honse :hese hinds :
Hcgh Meredith, a Welsh Pensilvaniin. thirrr yeirs
of age_, bred to country ^vork ; honest, sensible, had
a great deal o£ solid obserration. was something ot a
reao.er, bnt given to drink. Stethen Pctts, a Tonn^
coontrvman of fn_l age, bred to the ssme, or nn-
common narcral rarts, and great wit and humour,
but a little idle. These he had agreed ¦wdth at
extream low ¦="ages per week, to be rais"d a snildng
ererj tiree months, as they wonld deserre by
he had drawn them in with. Meredith was to work
raent, was to teach them, thongn ne knew neither
one nor t'other. Toim  . a wild Irishman, brcnght
np to no bnsiness. whose service, tor ronr years,
Keimer had ptirchased rrtm tne captain of a snip :
he. too, ^as to be made a presiman. George Webb,
likewise bon^ht. intendiniT him tor a oomrositcr, ot
whom mors oresentlj ; and David Harry, a ocnnrry
bcT, whom he had taken anrrentioe.
give, 'stas. to have these raw, cheap nands torm'd
r"-i-n' me ; and. as soon as I had instmoted tnem. tnen
do without me. I went Oii, however, very cneer-
fullv. oTtt his t>rintins-noiise in oroer, "s-mcn nan
been in great confasionj and orongnt ni; nands by

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
It was an odd thing to find an Oxford scholar in
the situation of a bought servant. He was not more
than eighteen years of age, and gave me this account
of himself; that he was born in Gloucester, educated
at a grammar-school there, had been distinguish'd
among the scholars for some apparent superiority in
performing his part, when they exhibited plays ;
belong'd to the Witty Club there, and had written
some pieces in prose and verse, which were printed
in the Gloucester newspapers ; thence he was sent
to Oxford ; where he continued about a year, but
not well satisfi'd, wishing of all things to see London,
and become a player. At length, receiving his
quarterly allowance of fifteen guineas, instead of
discharging his debts he walk'd out of town, hid his
gown in a furze bush, and footed it to London,
where, having no friends to advise him, he fell into
bad company, soon spent his guineas, found no
means of being introduc'd among the players, grew
necessitous, pawn'd his cloaths, and wanted bread.
Walking the street very hungry, and not knowing
what to do with himself, a crimp's bill was put into
his hand, offering immediate entertainment and en
couragement to such as would bind themselves to
serve in America. He went directly, sign'd the
indentures, was put into the ship, and came over,
never writing a line to acquaint his friends what was
become of him. He was lively, witty, good-natur'd,
and a pleasant companion, but idle, thoughtless, and
imprudent to the last degree.
John, the Irishman, soon ran away ; with the rest
I began to five very agreeably, for they all respected
me the more, as they found Keimer incapable of in
structing them, and that from me they learned some
thing daily. We never worked on Saturday, that
being Keimer's Sabbath, so I had two days for reading.
My acquaintance with ingenious people in the town
increased. Keimer himself treated me with great
64

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY^
civility and apparent regard, and nothing now made
me uneasy but my debt to Vernon, which I was yet
unable to pay, being hitherto but a poor oeconomist.
He, however, kindly made no demand of it.
Our printing-house often wanted sorts, and there
was no letter-founder in America ; I had seen types
cast at James's in London, but without much atten
tion to the manner ; however, I now contrived a
mould, made use of the letters we had as puncheons,
struck the matrices in lead, and thus supply'd in a
pretty tolerable way all deficiencies. I also engrav'd
several things on occasion ; I made the ink ; I was
warehouseman, and everything, and, in short, quite
a fac-totum. But, however serviceable I might be, I found that
my services became every day of less importance, as
the other hands improv'd in the business ; and, when
Keimer paid my second quarter's wages, he let me
know that he felt them too heavy, and thought I
should make an abatement. He grew by degrees
less civil, put on more of the master, frequently
found fault, was captious, and seem'd ready for an
outbreaking. I went on, nevertheless, with a good
deal of patience, thinking that his encumber'd cir
cumstances were partly the cause. At length a trifle
snapt our connections ; for, a great noise happening
near the court-house, I put my head out of the
window to see what was the matter. Keimer, being
in the street, look'd up and saw me, call'd out to me
in a loud voice and angry tone to mind my business,
adding some reproachful words, that nettled me the
more for their publicity, all the neighbors who
were looking out on the same occasion being wit
nesses how I was treated. He came up immediately
into the printing-house, continu'd the quarrel, high
words pass'd on both sides, he gave me the quarter's
warning we had stipulated, expressing a wish that
he had not been oblig'd to so long a warning. I told
E 65

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
him his wish was unnecessary, for I would leave him
that instant ; and so, taking my hat, walk'd out of
doors, desiring Meredith, whom I saw below, to
take care of some things I left, and bring them to
my lodgings.
Meredith came accordingly in the evening, when
we talked my affair over. He had conceiv'd a
great regard for me, and was very unwilling that I
should leave the house while he remain'd in it. He
dissuaded me from returning to my native country,
which I began to think of; he reminded me that
Keimer was in debt for all he possess'd ; that his
creditors began to be uneasy ; that he kept his shop
miserably, sold often without profit for ready money,
and often trusted without keeping accounts ; that he
must therefore fail, which would make a vacancy I
might profit of. I objected my want of money. He
then let me know that his father had a high opinion
of me, and, from some discourse that had pass'd
between them, he was sure would advance money
to set us up, if I would enter into partnership with
him. " My time," says he, " will be out with
Keimer in the spring ; by that time we may have our
press and types in from London. I am sensible I
am no workman ; if you like it, your skill in the
business shall be set against the stock I furnish, and
we will share the profits equally,"
The proposal was agreeable, and I consented ; his
father was in town and approv'd of it ; the more
as he saw I had great influence with his son, had
prevail'd on him to abstain long from dram-drinking,
and he hop'd might break him off that wretched
habit entirely, when we came to be so closely con
nected. I gave an inventory to the father, who
carry'd it to a merchant ; the things were sent for,
the secret was to be kept till they should arrive,
and in the mean time I was to get work, if I
could, at the other printing-house. But I found no
66

HIS AUTOBIOGR-APHY
vacancy there, and so remain'd idle a few days,
when Keimer, on a prospect of being employ'd to
print some paper money in New Jersey, which would
require cuts and various types that I only could
supply, and apprehending Bradford might engage
me and get the job from him, sent me a very civil
message, that old friends should not part for a few
words, the effect of sudden passion, and wishing me
to return. Meredith persuaded me to comply, as it
would give more opportunity for his improvement
under my daily instructions ; so I return'd, and we
went on more smoothly than for some time before.
The New Jersey jobb was obtain'd, I contriv'd a
copperplate press for it, the first that had been seen
in the country ; I cut several ornaments and checks
for the bills. We went together to Burlington,
where I executed the whole to satisfaction ; and
he received so large a sum for the work as to be
enabled thereby to keep his head much longer above
water. At Burlington I made an acquaintance with many
principal people of the province. Several of them
had been appointed by the Assembly a committee
to attend the press, and take care that no more
bills were printed than the law directed. They
were therefore, by turns, constantly with us, and
generally he who attended, brought with him a
friend or two for company. My mind having been
much more improv'd by reading than Keimer's, I
suppose it was for that reason my conversation
seem'd to be more valu'd. They had me to their
houses, introduced me to their friends, and show'd
me much civihty ; while he, tho' the master, was
a little neglected. In truth, he was an odd fish ;
ignorant of common life, fond of rudely opposing
receiv'd opinions, slovenly to extream dirtiness,
enthusiastic in some points of religion, and a little
knavish withal. 67

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
We continu'd there near three months; and by
that time I could reckon among my acquired
friends. Judge Allen, Samuel Bustill, the secretary
of the Province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper, and
several of the Smiths, members of Assembly, and
Isaac Decow, the surveyor-general. The latter was
a shrewd, sagacious old man, who told me that he
began for himself, when young, by wheeling clay
for the brickmakers, learned to write after he was
of age, carri'd the chain for surveyors, who taught
him surveying, and he had now by his industry,
acquir'd a good estate ; and says he, " I foresee
that you will soon work this man out of his busi
ness, and make a fortune in it at Philadelphia." He
had not then the least intimation of my intention to
set up there or anywhere. These friends were
afterwards of great use to me, as I occasionally was
to some of them. They all continued their regard
for me as long as they lived.
Before I enter upon my public appearance in
business, it may be well to let you know the then
state of my mind with regard to my principles and
morals, that you may see how far those influenc'd
the future events of my life. My parents had early
given me religious impressions, and brought me
through my childhood piously in the Dissenting
way. But I was scarce fifteen, when, after doubting
by turns of several points, as I found them disputed
in the different books I read, I began to doubt
of Revelation itself. Some books against Deism
fell into my hands ; they were said to be the sub
stance of sermons preached at Boyle's Lectures.
It happened that they wrought an effect on me
quite contrary to what was intended by them ; for
the arguments of the Deists, which were quoted to
be refuted, appeared to me much stronger than the
refutations ; in short, I soon became a thorough
Deist. My arguments perverted some others,
68

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
particularly Collins and Ralph ; but, each of them
having afterwards wrong'd me greatly without the
least compunction, and recollecting Keith's conduct
towards me (who was another freethinker), and my
own towards Vernon and Miss Read, which at
times gave me great trouble, I began to suspect that
this doctrine, tho' it might be true, was not very
useful. My London pamphlet, which had for its
motto these lines of Dryden :
" Whatever is, is right. Though purblind man
Sees but a part o' the chain, the nearest link :
His eyes not carrying to the equal beam,
That poises all above ; "
and from the attributes of God, his infinite wisdom,
goodness and power, concluded that nothing could
possibly be wrong in the world, and that vice and
virtue were empty distinctions, no such things exist
ing, appear'd now not so clever a performance as I
once thought it ; and I doubted whether some error
had not insinuated itself unperceiv'd into my argu
ment, so as to infect all that follow'd, as is common
in metaphysical reasonings.
I grew convinc'd that truth, sincerity and integrity
in dealings between man and man were of the
utmost importance to the felicity of life ; and I
form'd written resolutions, which still remain in my
journal book, to practice them ever while I lived.
Revelation had indeed no weight with me, as such ;
but I entertain'd an opinion that, though certain
actions might not be bad because they were for
bidden by it, or good because it commanded them,
yet probably these actions might be forbidden
because they were bad for us, or commanded
because they were beneficial to us, in their own
natures, all the circumstances of things considered.
And this persuasion, with the kind hand of Provi
dence, or some guardian angel, or accidental favor
able circumstances and situations, or all together,
69

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
preserved me, thro' this dangerous time of youth,
and the hazardous situations I was sometimes in
among strangers, remote from the eye and advice
of my father, without any willful gross immorality
or injustice, that might have been expected from
my want of religion. I say willful, because the in
stances I have mentioned had something of necessity
in them, from my youth, inexperience, and the
knavery of others. I had therefore a tolerable
character to begin the world with ; I valued it
properly, and determin'd to preserve it.
We had not been long return'd to Philadelphia
before the new types arriv'd from London. We
settled with Keimer, and left him by his consent
before he heard of it. We found a house to hire
near the market, and took it. To lessen the rent,
which was then but twenty-four pounds a year,
tho' I have since known it to let for seventy, we
took in Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, and his family,
who were to pay a considerable part of it to us, and
we to board with them. We had scarce opened our
letters and put our press in order, before George
House, an acquaintance of mine, brought a country
man to us, whom he had met in the street inquiring
for a printer. All our cash was now expended in
the variety of particulars we had been obliged to
procure, and this countryman's five shillings, being
our first-fruits, and coming so seasonably, gave me
more pleasure than any crown I have since earned ;
and the gratitude I felt toward House has made me
often more ready than perhaps I should otherwise
have been to assist young beginners.
There are croakers in every country, always bod
ing its ruin. Such a one then lived in Philadelphia ;
a person of note, an elderly man, with a wise look
and a very grave manner of speaking ; his name
was Samuel Mickle. This gentleman, a stranger
to me, stopt one day at my door, and asked me
70

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
if I was the young man who had lately opened a
new printing-house. Being answered in the affirm
ative, he said he was sorry for me, because it was
an expensive undertaking, and the expense would
be lost; for Philadelphia was a sinking place, the
people already half-bankrupts, or near being so;
all appearances to the contrary, such as new build
ings and the rise of rents, being to his certain
knowledge fallacious ; for they were, in fact,
among the things that would soon ruin us. And
he gave me such a detail of misfortunes now
existing, or that were soon to exist, that he left
me half melancholy. Had I known him before I
engaged in this business, probably I never should
have done it. This man continued to live in
this decaying place, and to declaim in the same
strain, refusing for many years to buy a house
there, because all was going to destruction ; and
at last I had the pleasure of seeing him give five
times as much for one as he might have bought
it for when he first began his croaking.
I should have mentioned before, that, in the
autumn of the preceding year, I had form'd most
of my ingenious acquaintance into a club of
mutual improvement, which we called the Junto ;
we met on Friday evenings. The rules that I
drew up required that every member, in his
turn, should produce one or more queries on
any point of Morals, Politics, or Natural Philo
sophy, to be discuss'd by the company ; and once
in three months produce and read an essay of
his own writing, on any subject he pleased. Our
debates were to be under the direction of a
president, and to be conducted in the sincere
spirit of inquiry after truth, without fondness for
dispute, or desire of victory ; and, to prevent
warmth, all expressions of positiveness in opinions,
or direct contradiction, were after some time made
71

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
contraband, and prohibited under small pecuniary
penalties. The first members were Joseph Breintnal, a copyer
of deeds for the scriveners, a good-natur'd, friendly,
middle-ag'd man, a great lover of poetry, reading
all he could meet with, and writing some that was
tolerable ; very ingenious in many little Nicknack-
eries, and of sensible conversation.
Thomas Godfrey, a self-taught mathematician,
great in his way, and afterwards inventor of what
is now called Hadley's Quadrant. But he knew
little out of his way, and was not a pleasing com
panion ; as, like most great mathematicians I have
met with, he expected universal precision in every
thing said, or was for ever denying or distinguishing
upon trifles, to the disturbance of all conversation.
He soon left us.
Nicholas Scull, a surveyor, afterwards surveyor-
general, who lov'd books, and sometimes made a
few verses.
William Parsons, bred a shoemaker, but, loving
reading, had acquir'd a considerable share of mathe
matics, which he first studied with a view to astro
logy, that he afterwards laught at it. He also
became surveyor-general.
William Maugridge, a joiner, a most exquisite
mechanic, and a solid, sensible man.
Hugh Meredith, Stephen Potts, and George Webb
I have characteriz'd before.
Robert Grace, a young gentleman of some fortune,
generous, lively, and witty ; a lover of punning and
of his friends.
And William Coleman, then a merchant's clerk,
about my age, who had the coolest, clearest head,
the best heart, and the exactest morals of almost
any man I ever met with. He became afterwards
a merchant of great note, and one of our provincial
judges. Our friendship continued without interrup-
72

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
tion to his death, upwards of forty years ; and the
dub continued almost as long, and was the best
school of philosophy, morality, and pohtics that
then existed in the province ; for our queries,
which were read the week preceding their dis
cussion, put us upon reading with attention upon
the several subjects, that we might speak more
to the purpose ; and here, too, we acquired better
habits of conversation, every thing being studied
in our rules which might prevent our disgusting
each other. From hence the long continuance of
the club, which I shall have frequent occasion to
speak further of hereafter.
But my giving this account of it here is to show
something of the interest I had, every one of these
exerting themselves in recommending business to us.
Breintnal particularly procur'd us from the Quakers
the printing forty sheets of their history, the rest
being to be done by Keimer ; and upon this we
work'd exceedingly hard, for the price was low. It
was a foho, pro patria size, in pica, with long primer
notes. I compos'd of it a sheet a day, and Meredith
worked it off at press ; it was often eleven at night,
and sometimes later, before I had finished my dis
tribution for the next day's work, for the little jobbs
sent in by our other friends now and then put us
back. But so determin'd I was to continue doing
a sheet a day of the foho, that one night, when,
having impos'd my forms, I thought my day's work
over, one of them by accident was broken, and two
pages reduced to pi, I immediately distributed and
compos'd it over again before I went to bed ; and
this industry, visible to our neighbors, began to give
us character and credit; particularly, I was told,
that mention being made of the new printing-office
at the merchants' Every-night club, the general
opinion was that it must fail, there being already
two printers in the place, Keimer and Bradford ;
73

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
but Dr Baird (whom you and I saw many years after
at his native place, St. Andrevir's in Scotland) gave
a contrary opinion : " For the industry of that
Franklin," says he, "is superior to any thing I
ever saw of the kind; I see him still at work
when I go home from club, and he is at work
again before his neighbors are out of bed." This
struck the rest, and we soon after had offers
from one of them to supply us with stationery ; but
as yet we did not chuse to engage in shop business.
I mention this industry the more particularly and
the more freely, tho' it seems to be talking in my
own praise, that those of my posterity, who shall
read it, may know the use of that virtue, when they
see its effects in my favour throughout this relation.
George Webb, who had found a female friend
that lent him wherewith to purchase his time of
Keimer, now came to offer himself as a journeyman
to us. We could not then employ him ; but I fool
ishly let him know as a secret that I soon intended
to begin a newspaper, and might then have work
for him. My hopes of success, as I told him, were
founded on this, that the then only newspaper,
printed by Bradford, was a paltry thing, wretchedly
manag'd, no way entertaining, and yet was profitable
to him; I therefore thought a good paper would
scarcely fail of good encouragement. I requested
Webb not to mention it; but he told it to Keimer,
who immediately, to be beforehand with me, pub
lished proposals for printing one himself, on which
Webb was to be employ'd. I resented this ; and, to
counteract them, as I could not yet begin our paper,
I wrote several pieces of entertainment for Bradford's
paper, under the title of the Bust Body, which
Breintnal continu'd some months. By this means
the attention of the publick was fixed on that paper,
and Keimer's proposals, which we burlesqu'd and
ridicul'd, were disregarded. He began his paper,
74

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
however, and, after carrying it on three quarters of
a year, with at most only ninety subscribers, he
offered it to me for a trifle ; and I, having been
ready some time to go on with it, took it in hand
directly ; and it prov'd in a few years extremely
profitable to me.
I perceive that I am apt to speak in the singular
number, though our partnership still continu'd ; the
reason may be that, in fact, the whole management
of the business lay upon me. Meredith was no
compositor, a poor pressman, and seldom sober.
My friends lamented my connection with him, but I
was to make the best of it.
Our first papers made a quite different appearance
from any before in the province ; a better type, and
better printed ; but some spirited remarks of my
writing, on the dispute then going on between
Governor Burnet and the Massachussets Assembly,
struck the principal people, occasioned the paper and
the manager of it to be much talk'd of, and in a
few weeks brought them all to be our subscribers.
Their example was follow'd by many, and our
number went on growing continually. This was
one of the first good effects of my having learnt a
littie to scribble ; another was, that the leading men,
seeing a newspaper now in the hands of one who
could also handle a pen, thought it convenient to
oblige and encourage me. Bradford still printed the
votes, and laws, and other publick business. He had
printed an address of the House to the governor, in a
coarse, blundering manner, we reprinted it elegantly
and correctly, and sent one to every member. They
were sensible of the difference : it strengthened the
hands of our friends in the House, and they voted us
their printers for the year ensuing.
Among my friends in the House I must not forget
Mr Hamilton, before mentioned, who was then
returned from England, and had a seat in it. He
75

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
interested himself for me strongly in that instance,
as he did in many others afterward, continuing his
patronage till his death.i
Mr Vernon, about this time, put me in mind of
the debt I ow'd him, but did not press me. I wrote
him an ingenuous letter of acknowledgment, crav'd
his forbearance a little longer, which he allow'd me,
and as soon as I was able, I paid the principal with
interest, and many thanks ; so that erratum was in
some degree corrected.
But now another difficulty came upon me which I
had never the least reason to expect. Mr Meredith's
father, who was to have paid for our printing-house,
according to the expectations given me, was able to
advance only one hundred pounds currency, which
had been paid ; and a hundred more was due to the
merchant, who grew impatient, and su'd us all.
We gave bail, but saw that, if the money could not
be rais'd in time, the suit must soon come to a
judgment and execution, and our hopeful prospects
must, with us, be ruined, as the press and letters
must be sold for payment, perhaps at half price.
In this distress two true friends, whose kindness
I have never forgotten, nor ever shall forget while
I can remember any thing, came to me separately,
unknown to each other, and, without any application
from me, offering each of them to advance me all
the money that should be necessary to enable me to
take the whole business upon myself, if that should
be practicable ; but they did not like my continuing
the partnership with Meredith, who, as they said,
was often seen drunk in the streets, and playing at
low games in alehouses, much to our discredit.
These two friends were William Coleman and
Robert Grace. I told them I could not propose a
separation while any prospect remain'd of the Mere
dith's fulfilling their part of our agreement, because
1 1 got his son once £5°° [marg. note].
76

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
I thought myself under great obligations to them
for what they had done, and would do if they
could ; but, if they finally fail'd in their perform
ance, and our partnership must be dissolv'd, I should
then think myself at liberty to accept the assistance
of my friends.
Thus the matter rested for some time, when I said
to my partner, "Perhaps your father is dissatisfied
at the part you have undertaken in this affair of
ours, and is unwilhng to advance for you and me
what he would for you alone. If that is the case,
tell me, and I will resign the whole to you, and go
about my business." " No," said he, " my father
has really been disappointed, and is really unable ;
and I am unwilling to distress him farther. I see
this is a business I am not fit for. I was bred a
farmer, and it was a folly in me to come to town,
and put myself, at thirty years of age, an apprentice
to learn a new trade. Many of our Welsh people
are going to settle in North Carohna, where land is
cheap. I am inclin'd to go with them, and follow
my old employment. You may find friends to
assist you. If you will take the debts of the com
pany upon you ; return to my father the hundred
pound he has advanced ; pay my little personal
debts, and give me thirty pounds and a new saddle,
I will relinquish the partnership, and leave the
whole in your hands." I agreed to this proposal :
it was drawn up in writing, sign'd, and seal'd imme
diately. I gave him what he demanded, and he went
soon after to Carolina, from whence he sent me next
year two long letters, containing the best account
that had been given of that country, the climate, the
soil, husbandry, etc., for in those matters he was
very judicious. I printed them in the papers, and
they gave great satisfaction to the publick.
As soon as he was gone, I recurr'd to my two
friends ; and because I would not give an unkind
77

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
preference to either, I took half of what each had
offered and I wanted of one, and half of the other ;
paid off the company's debts, and went on with the
business in my own name, advertising that the
partnership was dissolved. I think this was in or
about the year 1729.
About this time there was a cry among the people
for more paper money, only fifteen thousand pounds
being extant in the province, and that soon to be
sunk. The wealthy inhabitants oppos'd any addi
tion, being against all paper currency, from an appre
hension that it would depreciate, as it had done in
New England, to the prejudice of all creditors. We
had discuss'd this point in our Junto, where I was on
the side of an addition, being persuaded that the first
small sum struck in 1723 had done much good by
increasing the trade, employment, and number of
inhabitants in the province, since I now saw all the
old houses inhabited, and many new ones building :
whereas I remembered well, that when I first walk'd
about the streets of Philadelphia, eating my roll, I
saw most of the houses in Walnut Street, between
Second and Front streets, with bills on their doors,
" To be let " ; and many likewise in Chestnut-street
and other streets, which made me then think the
inhabitants of the city were deserting it one after
another. Oiir debates possess'd me so fully of the subject,
that I wrote and printed an anonymous pamphlet on
it, entitled " The Nature and Necessity of a Paper Cur
rency." It was well receiv'd by the common people
in general ; but the rich men dislik'd it, for it
increas'd and strengthen'd the clamor for more
money, and they happening to have no writers
among them that were able to answer it, their
opposition slacken'd, and the point was carried by a
majority in the House. My friends there, who con
ceiv'd I had been of some service, thought fit to
78

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
reward me by employing me in printing the money ;
a very profitable jobb and a great help to me. This
was another advantage gain'd by my being able to
write. The utility of this currency became by time and
experience so evident as never afterwards to be much
disputed ; so that it grew soon to fifty-five thousand
pounds, and in 1739 to eighty thousand pounds,
since which it arose during war to upwards of three
hundred and fifty thousand pounds, trade, building,
and inhabitants all the while increasing, tho' I now
think there are limits beyond which the quantity
may be hurtful.
I soon after obtain'd, thro' my friend Hamilton,
the printing of the Newcastle paper money, another
profitable jobb as I then thought it ; small things
appearing great to those in small circumstances ;
and these, to me, were really great advantages, as
they were great encouragements. He procured for
me, also, the printing of the laws and votes of that
government, which continu'd in my hands as long as
I follow'd the business.
I now open'd a little stationer's shop. I had in it
blanks of all sorts, the correctest that ever appear'd
among us, being assisted in that by my friend
Breintnal. I had also paper, parchment, chapmen's
books, etc. One Whitemash, a compositor I had
known in London, an excellent workman, now came
to me, and work'd with me constantly and diligently ;
and I took an apprentice, the son of Aquila Rose.
I began now gradually to pay off the debt I was
under for the printing-house. In order to secure
my credit and character as a tradesman, I took care
not only to be in reality industrious and frugal, but
to avoid all appearances to the contrary. I drest
plainly ; I was seen at no places of idle diversion.
I never went out a fishing or shooting ; a book,
indeed, sometimes debauch'd me from my work, but
79

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
that was seldom, snug, and gave no scandal ; and,
to show that I was not above my business, I some
times brought home the paper I purchas'd at the
stores thro' the streets on a wheelbarrow. Thus
being esteem'd an industrious, thriving young man,
and paying duly for what I bought, the merchants
who imported stationery solicited my custom ; others
proposed supplying me with books, and I went on
swimmingly. In the mean time, Keimer's credit and
business declining daily, he was at last forc'd to
sell his printing-house to satisfy his creditors. He
went to Barbadoes, and there lived some years in
very poor circumstances.
His apprentice, David Harry, whom I had in
structed while I work'd with him, set up in his
place at Philadelphia, having bought his materials.
I was at first apprehensive of a powerful rival in
Harry, as his friends were very able, and had a good
deal of interest. I therefore propos'd a partnership
to him, which he, fortunately for me, rejected with
scorn. He was very proud, dress'd fike a gentle
man, liv'd expensively, took much diversion and
pleasure abroad, ran in debt, and neglected his
business ; upon which, all business left him ; and,
finding nothing to do, he followed Keimer to Bar
badoes, taking the printing-house with him. There
this apprentice employ'd his former master as a
journeyman ; they quarrel'd often ; Harry went con
tinually behindhand, and at length was forc'd to sell
his types and return to his country work in PensU-
vania. The person that bought them employ'd
Keimer to use them, but in a few years he died.
There remained now no competitor with me at
Philadelphia but the old one, Bradford ; who was
rich and easy, did a little printing now and then by
straggling hands, but was not very anxious about
the business. However, as he kept the post-office,
it was imagined he had better opportunities of ob-
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
taining news ; his paper was thought a better dis
tributer of advertisements than mine, and therefore
had many more, which was a profitable thing to
him, and a disadvantage to me ; for, tho' I did
indeed receive and send papers by the post, yet the
publick opinion was otherwise, for what I did send
was by bribing the riders, who took them privately,
Bradford being unkind enough to forbid it, which
occasion'd some resentment on my part ; and I
thought so meanly of him for it, that, when I
afterward came into his situation, I took care never
to imitate it.
I had hitherto continu'd to board with Godfrey,
who lived in part of my house with his wife and
children, and had one side of the shop for his
glazier's business, tho' he worked little, being
always absorbed in his mathematics. Mrs Gkidfrey
projected a match for me with a relation's daughter,
took opportunities of bringing us often together, till
a serious courtship on my part ensu'd, the girl being
in herself very deserving. The old folks encourag'd
me by continual invitations to supper, and by leaving
us together, till at length it was time to explain.
Mrs Godfrey manag'd our little treaty. I let her
know that I expected as much money with their
daughter as would pay off my remaining debt for
the printing-house, which I believe was not then
above a hundred pounds. She brought me word
they had no such sum to spare ; I said they might
mortgage their house in the loan-office. The answer
to this, after some days, was, that they did not
approve the match; that, on inquiry of Bradford,
they had been informed the printing business was
not a profitable one ; the types would soon be worn
out, and more wanted ; that S. Keimer and D.
Harry had failed one after the other, and I should
probably soon follow them ; and, therefore, I was
forbidden the house, and the daughter shut up.
F 8l

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
Whether this was a real change of sentiment or
only artifice, on a supposition of our being too far
engaged in affection to retract, and therefore that
we should steal a marriage, which would leave them
at liberty to give or withhold what they pleas'd, I
know not; but I suspected the latter, resented it,
and went no more. Mrs Godfrey brought me
afterward some more favorable accounts of their
disposition, and would have drawn me on again ;
but I declared absolutelv my resolution to have
nothing more to do with that family. This was
resented by the Godfreys ; we differ'd, and they
removed, leaving me the whole house, and I re-
resolved to take no more inmates.
But this affair having turned my thoughts to
marriage, I look'd round me and made overtures
of acquaintance in other places ; but soon found
that, the business of a printer being generally
thought a poor one, I was not to expect money with
a wife, unless with such a one as I should not
otherwise think agreeable. In the mean time, that
hard-to-be-governed passion of youth hurried me
frequently into intrigues with low women that fell
in my way, which were attended with some expense
and great inconvenience, besides a continual risque
to my health by a distemper which of all things I
dreaded, though by great good luck I escaped it,
A friendly correspondence as neighbors and old
acquaintances had continued between me and Mrs
Read's family, who all had a regard for me from
the time of my first lodging in their house. I was
often invited there and consulted in their affairs,
wherein I sometimes was of service. I piti'd poor
Miss Read's unfortunate situation, who was gener
ally dejected, seldom cheerful, and avoided com
pany. I considered my giddiness and inconstancy
when in London as in a great degree the cause of
her unhappiness, tho' the mother was good enough
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
to think the fault more her own than mine, as she
had prevented our marrying before I went thither,
and persuaded the other match in my absence. Our
mutual affection was revived, but there were now
great objections to our union. The match was
indeed looked upon as invalid, a preceding wife
being said to be living in England ; but this could
not easily be prov'd, because of the distance ; and,
tho' there was a report of his death, it was not
certain. Then, tho' it should be true, he had left
many debts, which his successor might be call'd
upon to pay. We ventured, however, over all
these difficulties, and I took her to wife, September
Ist, 1730. None of the inconveniences happened
that we had apprehended ; she proved a good and
faithful helpmate, assisted me much by attending
the shop ; we throve together, and have ever mutu
ally endeavor'd to make each other happy. Thus I
corrected that great erratum as well as I could.
About this time, our dub meeting, not at a tavern,
but in a littie room of Mr Grace's, set apart for that
purpose, a proposition was made by me, that, since
our books were often referr'd to in our disquisitions
upon the queries, it might be convenient to us to
have them altogether where we met, that upon oc
casion they might be consulted ; and by thus dub
bing our books to a common hbrary, we should,
while we hk'd to keep them together, have each of
us the advantage of using the books of all the other
members, which would be nearly as beneficial as if
each owned the whole. It was lik'd and agreed
to, and we fiU'd one end of the room with such
books as we could best spare. The number was
not so great as we expected ; and tho' they had
been of great use, yet some inconveniences occur
ring for want of due care of them, the collection,
after about a year, was separated, and each took his
books home again. 83

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
And now I set on foot my first project of a public
nature, that for a subscription library. I drew up
the proposals, got them put into form by our great
scrivener, Brockden, and, by the help of my friends
in the Junto, procured fifty subscribers of forty shil
lings each to begin with, and ten shillings a year for
fifty years, the term our company was to continue.
We afterwards obtain'd a charter, the company
being increased to one hundred : this was the
mother of all the North American subscription
libraries, now so numerous. It is become a great
thing itself, and continually increasing. These
libraries have improved the general conversation
of the Americans, made the common tradesmen and
farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen from other
countries, and perhaps have contributed in some
degree to the stand so generally made throughout
the colonies in defence of their privileges.
Mem",. Thus far was written with the intention
express d in the beginning and therefore contains
several little family anecdotes of no importance to
others. What follows was written many years after
in compliance with the advice contain'd in these
letters, and accordingly intended for the public.
The affairs of the Revolution occasion'd the inter
ruption.

84

Letter from Mr Abel James, with Notes of my Life
(received in Paris).
" My Dear and Honored Friend : I have often
been desirous of writing to thee, but could not be
reconciled to the thought, that the letter might fall
into the hands of the British, lest some printer or
busy-body should publish some part of the contents,
and give our friend pain, and myself censure.
"Some time since there fell into my hands, to
my great joy, about twenty-three sheets in thy own
handwriting, containing an account of the parentage
and life of thyself, directed to thy son, ending in the
year 1730, with which there were notes, likewise in
thy writing ; a copy of which I inclose, in hopes it
may be a means, if thou continued it up to a later
period, that the first and latter part may be put
together; and if it is not yet continued, I hope thee
will not delay it. Life is uncertain, as the preacher
tells us ; and what will the world say if kind,
humane, and benevolent Ben. Franklin should leave
his friends and the world deprived of so pleasing
and profitable a work ; a work which would be
useful and entertaining not only to a few, but to
milhons ? The influence writings under that class
have on the minds of youth is very great, and has
nowhere appeared to me so plain, as in our public
friend's journals. It almost insensibly leads the
youth into the resolution of endeavoring to become
as good and eminent as the journalist. Should
thine, for instance, when published (and I think it
could not fail of it), lead the youth to equal the in
dustry and temperance of thy early youth, what a
85

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
blessing with that class would such a work be ! I
know of no character living, nor many of them put
together, who has so much in his power as thyself
to promote a greater spirit of industry and early
attention to business, frugality, and temperance with
the American youth. Not that I think the work
would have no other merit and use in the world, far
from it ; but the first is of such vast importance that
I know nothing that can equal it."
The foregoing letter and the minutes accompany
ing it being shown to a friend, I received from him
the following :
Letter from Mr Benjamin Vaughan.
"Paris, January 31, 1783.
" My Dearest Sir : When I had read over your
sheets of minutes of the principal incidents of your
life, recovered for you by your Quaker acquaintance,
I told you I would send you a letter expressing my
reasons why I thought it would be useful to com
plete and publish it as he desired. Various con
cerns have for some time past prevented this letter
being written, and I do not know whether it was
worth any expectation ; happening to be at leisure,
however, at present, I shall by writing, at least in
terest and instruct myself; but as the terms I am
inclined to use may tend to offend a person of your
manners, I shall only tell you how I would address
any other person, who was as good and as great as
yourself, but less diffident. I would say to him. Sir,
I solicit the history of your life from the following
motives : Your history is so remarkable, that if you
do not give it, somebody else will certainly give it ;
and perhaps so as nearly to do as much harm, as
your own management of the thing might do good.
It will moreover present a table of the internal
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
circumstances of your country, which will very
much tend to invite to it settlers of virtuous and
manly minds. And considering the eagerness with
which such information is sought by them, and the
extent of your reputation, I do not know of a more
efficacious advertisement than your biography would
give. All that has happened to you is also con
nected with the detail of the manners and situation
of a rising people ; and in this respect I do not
think that the writings of Caesar and Tacitus can be
more interesting to a true judge of human nature
and society. But these, sir, are small reasons, in
my opinion, compared with the chance which your
fife will give for the forming of future great men ;
and in conjunction with your Art of Virtue (which
you design to publish) of improving the features of
private character, and consequently of aiding all
happiness, both public and domestic. The two
works I allude to, sir, will in particular give a noble
rule and example of self-education. School and
other education constantly proceed upon false prin
ciples, and show a clumsy apparatus pointed at a
false mark ; but your apparatus is simple, and the
mark a true one; and while parents and young
persons are left destitute of other just means of
estimating and becoming prepared for a reasonable
course in life, your discovery that the thing is in
many a man's private power, will be invaluable !
Influence upon the private character, late in life,
is not only an influence late in life, but a weak in
fluence. It is in youth that we plant our chief habits
and prejudices ; it is in youth that we take our party
as to profession, pursuits and matrimony. In youth,
therefore, the turn is given ; in youth the education
even of the next generation is given ; in youth the
private and public character is determined ; and the
term of life extending but from youth to age, life
ought to begin well from youth, and more especially
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
before we take our party as to our principal objects.
But your biography will not merely teach self-
education, but the education of a wise man ; and
the wisest man will receive lights and improve his
progress, by seeing detailed the conduct of another
wise man. And why are weaker men to be de
prived of such helps, when we see our race has
been blundering on in the dark, almost without a
guide in this particular, from the farthest trace of
time ? Show then, sir, how much is to be done,
both to sons and fathers ; and invite all wise men to
become like yourself, and other men to become wise.
When we see how cruel statesmen and warriors can
be to the human race, and how absurd distinguished
men can be to their acquaintance, it will be in
structive to observe the instances multiply of pacific,
acquiescing manners ; and to find how compatible
it is to be great and domestic, enviable and yet good-
humored. " The little private incidents which you will also
have to relate, will have considerable use, as we
want, above all things, rules of prudence in ordinary
affairs ; and it will be curious to see how you have
acted in these. It will be so far a sort of key to
life, and explain many things that all men ought to
have once explained to them, to give them a chance
of becoming wise by foresight. The nearest thing
to having experience of one's own, is to have other
people's affairs brought before us in a shape that is
interesting ; this is sure to happen from your pen ;
our affairs and management will have an air of sim
plicity or importance that will not fail to strike ; and
I am convinced you have conducted them with
as much originality as if you had been conducting
discussions in pohtics or philosophy ; and what
more worthy of experiments and system (its im
portance and its errors considered) than human
life ?

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
"Some men have been virtuous blindly, others
have speculated fantastically, and others have been
shrewd to bad purposes ; but you, sir, I am sure,
will give under your hand, nothing but what is at
the same moment, wise, practical and good. Your
account of yourself (for I suppose the parallel I am
drawing for Dr Franklin, will hold not only in point
of character, but of private history) will show that
you are ashamed of no origin ; a thing the more
important, as you prove how little necessary all
origin is to happiness, virtue, or greatness. As no
end likewise happens without a means, so we shall
find, sir, that even you yourself framed a plan by
which you became considerable ; but at the same
time we may see that though the event is flattering,
the means are as simple as wisdom could make
them; that is, depending upon nature, virtue,
thought and habit. Another thing demonstrated
will be the propriety of every man's waiting for his
time for appearing upon the stage of the world.
Our sensations being very much fixed to the moment,
we are apt to forget that more moments are to
follow the first, and consequently that man should
arrange his conduct so as to suit the whole of a life.
Your attribution appears to have been applied to
your life, and the passing moments of it have been
enlivened with content and enjoyment, instead of
being tormented with foolish impatience or regrets.
Such a conduct is easy for those who make virtue
and themselves in countenance by examples of
other truly great men, of whom patience is so
often the characteristic. Your Quaker corres
pondent, sir (for here again I will suppose the
subject of my letter resembling Dr Franklin),
praised your frugality, diligence and temperance,
which he considered as a pattern for all youth ; but
it is singular that he should have forgotten your
modesty and your disinterestedness, without which
89

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
you never could have waited for your advancement,
or found your situation in the mean time comfort
able ; which is a strong lesson to show the poverty
of glory and the importance of regulating our minds.
If this correspondent had known the nature of your
reputation as well as I do, he would have said.
Your former writings and measures would secure
attention to your Biography, and Art of Virtue;
and your Biography and Art of Virtue, in return,
would secure attention to them. This is an ad
vantage attendant upon a various character, and
which brings all that belongs to it into greater play ;
and it is the more useful, as perhaps more persons
are at a loss for the means of improving their minds
and characters, than they are for the time or the
inclination to do it. But there is one concluding
reflection, sir, that will shew the use of your life as
a mere piece of biography. This style of writing
seems a little gone out of vogue, and yet it is a
very useful one ; and your specimen of it may be
particularly serviceable, as it will make a subject of
comparison with the lives of various pubhc cut
throats and intriguers, and with absurd monastic
self-tormentors or vain literary triflers. If it en
courages more writings of the same kind with your
own, and induces more men to spend lives fit to be
written, it will be worth all Plutarch's Lives put to
gether. But being tired of figuring to myself a
character of which every feature suits only one man
in the world, without giving him the praise of it, I
shall end my letter, my dear Dr Franklin, with a
personal application to your proper self. I am
earnestly desirous, then, my dear sir, that you
should let the world into the traits of your genuine
character, as civil broils may otherwise tend to dis
guise or traduce it. Considering your great age,
the caution of your character, and your peculiar
style of thinking, it is not hkely that any one be-
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
sides yourself can be sufficiently master of the facts
of your hfe, or the intentions of your mind. Be
sides all this, the immense revolution of the present
period, will necessarily turn our attention towards
the author of it, and when virtuous principles have
been pretended in it, it will be highly important to
shew that such have really influenced ; and, as your
own character will be the principal one to receive a
scrutiny, it is proper (even for its effects upon your
vast and rising country, as well as upon England
and upon Europe) that it should stand respectable
and eternal. For the furtherance of human happi
ness, I have always maintained that it is necessary
to prove that man is not even at present a vicious
and detestable animal ; and still more to prove that
good management may greatly amend him; and it
is for much the same reason, that I am anxious to
see the opinion established, that there are fair
characters existing among the individuals of the
race ; for the moment that all men, without ex
ception, shall be conceived abandoned, good people
win cease efforts deemed to be hopeless, and perhaps
think of taking their share in the scramble of life,
or at least of making it comfortable principally for
themselves. Take then, my dear sir, this work
most speedily into hand : shew yourself good as
you are good ; temperate as you are temperate ; and
above all things, prove yourself as one, who from
your infancy have loved justice, liberty and concord,
in a way that has made it natural and consistent for
you to have acted, as we have seen you act in the
last seventeen years of your life. Let Englishmen
be made not only to respect, but even to love you.
When they think well of individuals in your native
country, they will go nearer to thinking well of
your country ; and when your countrymen see them
selves well thought of by Englishmen, they will go
nearer to thinking well of England. Extend your
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
views even further ; do not stop at those who speak
the English tongue, but after having settled so many
points in nature and politics, think of bettering the
whole race of men. As I have not read any part
of the hfe in question, but know only the character
that lived it, I write somewhat at hazard. I am
sure, however, that the life and the treatise I allude
to (on the Art of Virtue) will necessarily fulfil the
chief of my expectations ; and still more so if you
take up the measure of suiting these performances to
the several views above stated. Should they even
prove unsuccessful in all that a sanguine admirer of
yours hopes from them, you will at least have framed
pieces to interest the human mind ; and whoever
gives a feeling of pleasure that is innocent to man,
has added so much to the fair side of a life otherwise
too much darkened by anxiety and too much injured
by pain. In the hope, therefore, that you will listen
to the prayer addressed to you in this letter, I beg
to subscribe myself, my dearest sir, etc., etc.,
" Signed, Benj. Vaughan."

Continuation of the Account of my Life, begun at
Passy, near Paris, 1 784.
It is some time since I receiv'd the above letters,
but I have been too busy till now to think of com
plying with the request they contain. It might, too,
be much better done if I were at home among my
papers, which would aid my memory, and help to
ascertain dates ; but my return being uncertain, and
having just now a little leisure, I will endeavor to
recollect and write what I can ; if I live to get home,
it may there be corrected and improv'd.
Not having any copy here of what is already
written, I know not whether an account is given of
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
the means I used to establish the Philadelphia pubhc
library, which, from a small beginning, is now
become so considerable, though I remember to have
come down to near the time of that transaction
(1730). I will therefore begin here with an account
of it, which may be struck out if found to have been
already given.
At the time I establish'd myself in Pennsylvania,
there was not a good bookseller's shop in any of the
colonies to the southward of Boston. In New York
and Philad'a the printers were indeed stationers ;
they sold only paper, etc., almanacs, ballads, and a
few common school-books. Those who lov'd read
ing were oblig'd to send for their books from
England ; the members of the Junto had each a few.
We had left the alehouse, where we first met, and
hired a room to hold our dub in. I propos'd that
we should all of us bring our books to that room,
where they would not only be ready to consult in
our conferences, but become a common benefit, each
of us being at liberty to borrow such as he wish'd
to read at home. This was accordingly done, and
for some time contented us.
Finding the advantage of this little collection, I
propos'd to render the benefit from books more
common, by commencing a public subscription
library. I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that
would be necessary, and got a skilful conveyancer,
Mr Charles Brockden, to put the whole in form of
articles of agreement to be subscribed, by which
each subscriber engag'd to pay a certain sum down
for the first purchase of books, and an annual con
tribution for increasing them. So few were the
readers at that time in Philadelphia, and the majority
of us so poor, that I was not able, with great
industry, to find more than fifty persons, mostly
young tradesmen, willing to pay down for this
purpose forty shillings each, and ten shillings per
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
annum. On this little fund we began. The books
were imported ; the library was opened one day in
the week for lending to the subscribers, on their
promissory notes to pay double the value if not duly
returned. The institution soon manifested its utility,
was imitated by other towns, and in other provinces.
The libraries were augmented by donations ; read
ing became fashionable ; and our people, having no
publick amusements to divert their attention from
study, became better acquainted with books, and in
a few years were observ'd by strangers to be better
instructed and more intelligent than people of the
same rank generally are in other countries.
When we were about to sign the above-mentioned
articles, which were to be binding on us, our heirs,
etc., for fifty years, Mr Brockden, the scrivener,
said to us, "You are young men, but it is scarcely
probable that any of you will live to see the expira
tion of the term fix'd in the instrument." A number
of us, however, are yet living ; but the instrument
was after a few years rendered null by a charter that
incorporated and gave perpetuity to the company.
The objections and reluctances I met with in
soliciting the subscriptions, made me soon feel the
impropriety of presenting one's self as the proposer
of any useful project, that might be suppos'd to
raise one's reputation in the smallest degree above
that of one's neighbors, when one has need of their
assistance to accomplish that project. I therefore
put myself as much as I could out of sight, and
stated it as a scheme of a number of friends, who had
requested me to go about and propose it to such as
they thought lovers of reading. In this way my
affair went on more smoothly, and I ever after
practis'd it on such occasions ; and, from my
frequent successes, can heartily recommend it. The
present little sacrifice of your vanity will afterwards
be amply repaid. If it remains a while uncertain
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
to whom the merit belongs, some one more vain
than yourself will be encouraged to claim it, and
then even envy will be disposed to do you justice
by plucking those assumed feathers, and restoring
them to their right owner.
This library afforded me the means of improve
ment by constant study, for which I set apart an
hour or two each day, and thus repair'd in some
degree the loss of the learned education my father
once intended for me. Reading was the only
amusement I allow'd myself. I spent no time in
taverns, games, or frolicks of any kind ; and my
industry in my business continu'd as indefatigable as
it was necessary. I was indebted for my printing-
house ; I had a young family coming on to be
educated, and I had to contend with for business two
printers, who were established in the place before
me. My drcum stances, however, grew daily easier.
My original habits of frugality continuing, and my
father having, among his instructions to me when a
boy, frequently repeated a proverb of Solomon,
" Seest thou a man diligent in his calling, he shall
stand before kings, he shall not stand before mean
men," I from thence considered industry as a means
of obtaining wealth and distinction, which encourag'd
me, tho' I did not think that I should ever literally
stand before iin^s, which, however, has since hap
pened ; for I have stood before fve, and even had
the honour of sitting down with one, the King of
Denmark, to dinner.
We have an English proverb that says, " He that
would thrive, must ask his wife." It was lucky for
me that I had one as much dispos'd to industry and
frugality as myself. She assisted me cheerfully in
my business, folding and stitching pamphlets, tend
ing shop, purchasing old linen rags for the paper-
makers, etc., etc. We kept no idle servants, our
table was plain and simple, our furniture of the
95

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
cheapest. For instance, my breakfast was a long
time bread and milk (no tea), and I ate it out of a
twopenny earthen porringer, with a pewter spoon.
But mark how luxury will enter families, and make
a progress, in spite of principle : being call'd one
morning to breakfast, I found it in a China bowl,
with a spoon of silver ! They had been bought for
me without my knowledge by my wife, and had
cost her the enormous sum of three-and-twenty
shillings, for which she had no other excuse or
apology to make, but that she thought her husband
deserv'd a silver spoon and China bowl as well as
any of his neighbors. This was the first appear
ance of plate and China in our house, which after
ward, in a course of years, as our wealth increas'd,
augmented gradually to several hundred pounds in
value. I had been religiously educated as a Presby
terian; and tho' some of the dogmas of that per
suasion, such as the eternal decrees of God, election,
reprobation, etc., appeared to me unintelligible, others
doubtful, and I early absented myself from the
public assemblies of the sect, Sunday being my
studying day, I never was without some religious
principles. I never doubted, for instance, the
existence of the Deity ; that he made the world, and
govern'd it by his Providence ; that the most accept
able service of God was the doing good to man ;
that our souls are immortal ; and that all crime will
be punished, and virtue rewarded, either here or
hereafter. These I esteem'd the essentials of every
religion ; and, being to be found in all the religions
we had in our country, I respected them all, tho'
with different degrees of respect, as I found them
more or less mix'd with other articles, which, with
out any tendency to inspire, promote, or confirm
morality, serv'd principally to divide us, and make
us unfriendly to one another. This respect to all,
96

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
with an opinion that the worst had some good
effects, induc'd me to avoid all discourse that might
tend to lessen the good opinion another might have
of his own religion ; and as our province increas'd
in people, and new places of worship were continually
wanted, and generally erected by voluntary contri
bution, my mite for such purpose, whatever might
be the sect, was never refused.
Tho' I seldom attended any public worship, I had
still an opinion of its propriety, and of its utility
when rightiy conducted, and I regularly paid my
annual subscription for the support of the only
Presbyterian minister or meeting we had in Phila-
ddphia. He us'd to visit me sometimes as a friend,
and admonish me to attend his administrations, and I
was now and then prevail'd on to do so, once for five
Sundays successively. Had he been in my opinion
a good preacher, perhaps I might have continued,
notwithstanding the occasion I had for the Sunday's
leisure in my course of study ; but his discourses
were chiefly either polemic arguments, or explica
tions of the peculiar doctrines of our sect, and were
all to me very dry, uninteresting, and unedifying,
since not a single moral principle was inculcated or
enforc'd, their aim seeming to be rather to make us
Presbyterians than good citizens.
At length he took for his text that verse of the
fourth chapter of Philippians, " Finally, brethren,
whatsoever things are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, or
of good report, if there be any virtue, or any praise, think
on these things." And I imagin'd, in a sermon on such
a text, we could not miss of having some morality.
But he confin'd himself to five points only, as meant
by the apostle, viz. : i. Keeping holy the Sabbath
day. 2. Being diligent in reading the holy Scrip
tures. 3. Attending duly the publick worship.
4. Partaking of the Sacrament. 5. Paying a due
respect to God's ministers. These might be all good
G 97

BENJAMIN FR-ANKLIN
things ; but, as they were not the kind of good things
that I expected from that text, I despaired of ever
meeting with them from any other, was disgusted,
and attended his preaching no more. I had some
years before compos'd a little Liturgy, or form of
prayer, for my own private use (viz., in 1728),
entitled. Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion. I
return'd to the use of this, and went no more to the
public assemblies. My conduct might be blameable,
but I leave it, without attempting further to excuse
it ; my present purpose being to relate facts, and not
to make apologies for them.
It was about this time I conceiv'd the bold and
arduous project of arriving at moral perfection. I
wish'd to live without committing any fault at any
time ; I would conquer all that either natural incli
nation, custom, or company might lead me into. As
I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and
wrong, I did not see why I might not always do the
one and avoid the other. But I soon found I had
undertaken a task of more difficulty than I had
imagined. While my care was employ'd in guard
ing against one fault, I was often surprised by
another; habit took the advantage of inattention;
inclination was sometimes too strong for reason. I
concluded, at length, that the mere speculative con
viction that it was our interest to be completely
virtuous, was not sufficient to prevent our slipping ;
and that the contrary habits must be broken, and
good ones acquired and established, before we can
have any dependence on a steady, uniform rectitude
of conduct. For this purpose I therefore contrived
the following method.
In the various enumerations of the moral virtues I
had met with in my reading, I found the catalogue
more or less numerous, as different writers included
more or fewer ideas under the same name. Tem
perance, for example, was by some confined to eating
98

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
and drinking, while by others it was extended to
mean the moderating every other pleasure, appetite,
inclination, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our
avarice and ambition. I propos'd to myself, for the
sake of clearness, to use rather more names, with
fewer ideas annex'd to each, than a few names with
more ideas ; and I included under thirteen names of
virtues all that at that time occurr'd to me as neces
sary or desirable, and annexed to each a short precept,
which fully express'd the extent I gave to its meaning.
These names of virtues, with their precepts, were :
I. Temperance.
Eat not to dullness ; drink not to elevation.
2. Silence.
Speak not but what may benefit others or your
self ; avoid trifling conversation.
3. Order.
Let all your things have their places ; let each
part of your business have its time.
4. Resolution.
Resolve to perform what you ought ; perform
without fail what you resolve.
5. Frugality.
Make no expense but to do good to others or
yourself; i.e., waste nothing.
6. Industry.
Lose no time ; be always employ'd in something
useful ; cut off all unnecessary actions.
99

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
7. Sincerity.
Use no hurtful deceit ; think innocently and justiy,
and, if you speak, speak accordingly.
8. Justice.
Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the
benefits that are your duty.
9. Moderation.
Avoid extreams ; forbear resenting injuries so
much as you think they deserve.
10. Cleanliness.
Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or
habitation. II. Tranquillity.
Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents com
mon or unavoidable, 12. Chastity.
Rarely use venery but for health or offspring,
never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your
own or another's peace or reputation.
13. Humility.
Imitate Jesus and Socrates.
My intention being to acquire the habitude of all
these virtues, I judg'd it would be well not to dis
tract my attention by attempting the whole at once,
but to fix it on one of them at a time ; and, when I
should be master of that, then to proceed to another,
and so on, till I should have gone thro' the thirteen ;
100

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
and, as the previous acquisition of some might
facihtate the acquisition of certain others, I arrang'd
them with that view, as they stand above. Tem
perance first, as it tends to procure that coolness
and clearness of head, which is so necessary where
constant vigilance was to be kept up, and guard
maintained against the unremitting attraction of
ancient habits, and the force of perpetual temptations.
This being acquir'd and establish'd. Silence would
be more easy ; and my desire being to gain know
ledge at the same time that I improv'd in virtue, and
considering that in conversation it was obtain'd
rather by the use of the ears than of the tongue,
and therefore wishing to break a habit I was getting
into of pratthng, punning, and joking, which only
made me acceptable to triffing company, I gave
Silence the second place. This and the next. Order,
I expected would allow me more time for attending
to my project and my studies. Resolution, once
become habitual, would keep me firm in my
endeavors to obtain all the subsequent virtues ;
Frugality and Industry freeing me from my remain
ing debt, and producing affluence and independence,
would make more easy the practice of Sincerity and
Justice, etc., etc. Conceiving then, that, agreeably
to the advice of Pythagoras in his Golden Verses,
daily examination would be necessary, I contrived the
following method for conducting that examination.
I made a Httle book, in which I allotted a page
for each of the virtues. I rul'd each page with red
ink, so as to have seven columns, one for each day
of the week, marking each column with a letter for
the day. I cross'd these columns with thirteen red
lines, marking the beginning of each line with the
first letter of one of the virtues, on which line, and
in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black
spot, every fault I found upon examination to have
been committed respecting that virtue upon that day.
lol

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

Form of the pages.

TEMPERANCE.

EAT NOT TO dulness;
DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION.

S.

M.

T.

w.

T.

F.

s.

T.

S.
*
*
«
*
o.
* *
*
¦X-
*
»
*
R.
*
*
F.
*
*
I
*
S.
J.
M.
C.
T.
C.
H.
I determined to give a week's strict attention to
each of the virtues successively. Thus, in the first
week, my great guard was to avoid every the least
offence against Temperance, leaving the other vir
tues to their ordinary chance, only marking every
evening the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first
week I could keep my first fine, marked T, clear of
spots, I suppos'd the habit of that virtue so much
strengthen'd, and its opposite weaken'd, that I might
venture extending my attention to include the next,
and for the following week keep both lines clear of
I02
HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could go
thro' a course compleat in thirteen weeks, and four
courses in a year. And like him who, having a
garden to weed, does not attempt to eradicate all
the bad herbs at once, which would exceed his reach
and his strength, but works on one of the beds at a
time, and, having accomplish'd the first, proceeds to
a second, so I should have, I hoped, the encourag
ing pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress I
made in virtue, by clearing successively my lines
of their spots, till in the end, by a number of courses,
I should be happy in viewing a clean book, after a
thirteen weeks' daily examination.
This my httle book had for its motto these lines
from Addison's Cato:
"Here will I hold. If there's a power above us
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud
Thro' all her works). He must delight in virtue ;
And that which he delights in must be happy."
Another from Cicero,
" O vit£ Philosophia dux 1 O virtutum indagatrix expultrixque
vitiorum ! Unus dies, bene et ex prsceptis tuis actus, peccanti
immortalitati est anteponendus."
Another from the Proverbs of Solomon, speaking
of wisdom or virtue :
"Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand
riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all
her paths are peace. " iii. i6, 17.
And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom,
I thought it right and necessary to solicit his assist
ance for obtaining it ; to this end I formed the
following Uttle prayer, which was prefix'd to my
tables of examination, for daily use.
^^ 0 powerful Goodness/ bountiful Father / merciful Guide / Increase
in me that tvisdom ivhich discovers my truest interest. Strengthen my
103

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
resolutions to perfoi m ivhat that tvisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices
to thy other children as the only return in my po'wer for thy continual
favours to me. "
I used also sometimes a little prayer which I took
from Thomson's Poems, viz. :
" Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme !
O teach me what is good ; teach me Thyself !
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit ; and fill my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ;
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss ! "
The precept of Order requiring that every part
of my business should have its allotted time, one page in
my httle book contain'd the following scheme of
employment for the twenty-four hours of a natural
day.

The Morning.
Question. What good shall
I do this day ?

5l Rise, wash, and address Poai-
6 I etful Goodness / Contrive day's
|-business, and take the resolu-
7 I tion of the day ; prosecute the
J present study, and breakfast.

Noon.

yWork.

12 \ Read, or overlook my
I /counts, and dine.

Evening. i
Question. What good have 11
done to-day ? I

Night.

I VWork.
1/
6 "j Put things in their places.
7 I Supper, Music or diversion,
8 for conversation. Examination
9 J of the day.
I II -Sleep.

3
104

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
I enter'd upon the execution of this plan for self-
examination, and continu'd it with occasional inter
missions for some time. I was surpris'd to find
myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined ;
but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish.
To avoid the trouble of renewing now and then my
little book, which, by scraping out the marks on the
paper of old faults to make room for new ones in a
new course, became full of holes, I transferr'd my
tables and precepts to the ivory leaves of a memo
randum book, on which the lines were drawn with
red ink, that made a durable stain, and on those
hues I mark'd my faults with a black-lead pencil,
which marks I could easily wipe out with a wet
sponge. After a while I went thro' one course only
in a year, and afterward only one in several years,
till at length I omitted them entirely, being employ'd
in voyages and business abroad, with a multiplicity
of affairs that interfered ; but I always carried my
little book with me.
My scheme of Order gave me the most trouble ;
and I found that, tho' it might be practicable where
a man's business was such as to leave him the dis
position of his time, that of a journeyman printer,
for instance, it was not possible to be exactly ob
served by a master, who must mix with the world,
and often receive people of business at their own
hours. Order, too, with regard to places for things,
papers, etc., I found extreamly difficult to acquire.
I had not been early accustomed to it, and, having
an exceeding good memory, I was not so sensible
of the inconvenience attending want of method.
This article, therefore, cost me so much painful at
tention, and my faults in it vexed me so much, and I
made so little progress in amendment, and had such
frequent relapses, that I was almost ready to give
up the attempt, and content myself with a faulty
character in that respect, like the man who, in buy-
105

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
ing an ax of a smith, my neighbour, desired to have
the whole of its surface as bright as the edge. The
smith consented to grind it bright for him if he
would turn the wheel ; he turn'd, while the smith
press'd the broad face of the ax hard and heavily
on the stone, which made the turning of it very
fatiguing. The man came every now and then
from the wheel to see how the work went on, and
at length would take his ax as it was, without far
ther grinding. " No," said the smith, " turn on,
turn on ; we shall have it bright by-and-by ; as yet,
it is only speckled." " Yes," says the man, "but I
think I like a speckled ax best." And I believe this
may have been the case with many, who, having,
for want of some such means as I employ'd, found
the difficulty of obtaining good and breaking bad
habits in other points of vice and virtue, have given
up the struggle, and concluded that "a speckled
ax was best" ; for something, that pretended to be
reason, was every now and then suggesting to me
that such extream nicety as I exacted of myself
might be a kind of foppery in morals, which, if it
were known, would make me ridiculous ; that a
perfect character might be attended with the incon
venience of being envied and hated ; and that a
benevolent man should allow a few faults in himself,
to keep his friends in countenance.
In truth, I found myself incorrigible with respect
to Order ; and now I am grown old, and my me
mory bad, I feel very sensibly the want of it. But,
on the whole, tho' I never arrived at the perfection
I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far
short of it, yet I was, by the endeavour, a better and
a happier man than I otherwise should have been
if I had not attempted it ; as those who aim at per
fect writing by imitating the engraved copies, tho'
they never reach the wish'd-for excellence of those
copies, their hand is mended by the endeavor,
lo6

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
and is tolerable while it continues fair and
legible. It may be well my posterity should be informed
that to this little artifice, with the blessing of God,
their ancestor ow'd the constant felicity of his life,
down to his 79th year, in which this is written.
"What reverses may attend the remainder is in the
hand of Providence ; but, if they arrive, the reflec
tion on past happiness enjoy'd ought to help his
bearing them with more resignation. To Tempe
rance he ascribes his long-continued health, and
what is still left to him of a good constitution ; to
Industry and Frugality, the early easiness of his
circumstances and acquisition of his fortune, with all
that knowledge that enabled him to be a useful citi
zen, and obtained for him some degree of reputation
among the learned ; to Sincerity and Justice, the
confidence of his country, and the honorable em
ploys it conferred upon him ; and to the joint influ
ence of the whole mass of the virtues, even in the
imperfect state he was able to acquire them, all that
evenness of temper, and that cheerfulness in con
versation, which makes his company still sought
for, and agreeable even to his younger acquaint
ance. I hope, therefore, that some of my descend
ants may follow the example and reap the benefit.
It will be remarked that, tho' my scheme was not
wholly without religion, there was in it no mark of
any of the distinguishing tenets of any particular
sect. I had purposely avoided them ; for, being
fully persuaded of the utility and excellency of my
method, and that it might be serviceable to people
in all rehgious, and intending some time or other to
puWish it, I would not have any thing in it that
should prejudice any one, of any sect, against it.
I purposed writing a little comment on each virtue,
in which I would have shown the advantages of
possessing it, and the mischiefs attending its oppo-
107

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
site vice ; and I should have called my book The
Art of Virtue,^ because it would have shown the
means and manner of obtaining virtue, which would
have distinguished it from the mere exhortation to
be good, that does not instruct and indicate the
means, but is like the apostle's man of verbal
charity, who only without showing to the naked
and hungry how or where they might get clothes or
victuals, exhorted them to be fed and clothed. —
James ii. 15, 16.
But it so happened that my intention of writing
and publishing this comment was never fulfilled. I
did, indeed, from time to time, put down short hints
of the sentiments, reasonings, etc., to be made use
of in it, some of which I have still by me ; but the
necessary close attention to private business in the
earlier part of my life, and public business since, have
occasioned my postponing it ; for, it being con
nected in my mind with a great and extensive pro
ject, that required the whole man to execute, and
which an unforeseen succession of employs pre
vented my attending to, it has hitherto remain'd
unfinish'd. In this piece it was my design to explain and
enforce this doctrine, that vicious actions are not
hurtful because they are forbidden, but forbidden
because they are hurtful, the nature of man alone
considered; that it was, therefore, every one's in
terest to be virtuous who wish'd to be happy even
in this world ; and I should, from this circumstance
(there being always in the world a number of rich
merchants, nobility, states, and princes, who have
need of honest instruments for the management of
their affairs, and such being so rare), have endea
vored to convince young persons that no qualities
were so likely to make a poor man's fortune as those
of probity and integrity.
* Nothing so likely to make a man's fortune as virtue. — Marg. note.
108

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
My list of virtues contain'd at first but twelve ;
but a Quaker friend having kindly informed me that
I was generally thought proud ; that my pride
show'd itself frequently in conversation ; that I was
not content with being in the right when discussing
any point, but was overbearing, and rather insolent,
of which he convinc'd me by mentioning several
instances ; I determined endeavouring to cure myself,
if I could, of this vice or folly among the rest, and
I added Humility to my list, giving an extensive
meaning to the word.
I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the
reality of this virtue, but I had a good deal with
regard to the appearance of it. I made it a rule to
forbear all direct contradiction to the sentiments of
others, and all positive assertion of my own. I even
forbid myself, agreeably to the old laws of our
Junto, the use of every word or expression in the
language that imported a fix'd opinion, such as
certainly, undoubtedly, etc., and I adopted, instead
of them, I conceive, I apprehend, or / imagine a
thing to be so or so ; or it so appears to me at pre
sent. When another asserted something that I
thought an error, I deny'd myself the pleasure of
contradicting him abruptly, and of showing imme
diately some absurdity in his proposition ; and in
answering I began by observing that in certain cases
or circumstances his opinion would be right, but in
the present case there appeard or seem'd to me
some difference, etc. I soon found the advantage
of this change in my manner ; the conversations I
engag'd in went on more pleasantly. The modest
way in which I propos'd my opinions procur'd them
a readier reception and less contradiction ; I had
less mortification when I was found to be in the
wrong, and I more easily prevail'd with others to
give up their mistakes and join with me when I
happened to be in the right. 109

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
And this mode, which I at first put on with some
violence to natural inclination, became at length so
easy, and so habitual to me, that perhaps for these
fifty years past no one has ever heard a dogmatical
expression escape me. And to this habit (after my
character of integrity) I think it principally owing
that I had early so much weight with my fellow-
citizens when I proposed new institutions, or altera
tions in the old, and so much influence in public
councils when I became a member; for I was but a
bad speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesi
tation in my choice of words, hardly correct in lan
guage, and yet I generally carried my points.
In reahty, there is, perhaps, no one of our natural
passions so hard to subdue as pride. Disguise it,
struggle with it, beat it down, stifle it, mortify it as
much as one pleases, it is still alive, and will every
now and then peep out and show itself; you will see
it, perhaps, often in this history ; for, even if I could
conceive that I had compleatly overcome it, I should
probably be proud of my humility.
[Thus far written at Passy, 1 784.]

no

["lam now about to write at home, August, 1 788, but
can not have the help expected from my papers, many
of them being lost in the -war. I have, honuever,
found the following"'\ ^
Having mentioned a great and extensive project which
I had conceiv'd, it seems proper that some account
should be here given of that project and its object.
Its first rise in my mind appears in the following
httle paper, accidentally preserv'd, viz. :
Observations on my reading history, in Library,
May 19th, 1731.
" That the great affairs of the world, the wars,
revolutions, etc., are carried on and affected by
parties. " That the view of these parties is their present
general interest, or what they take to be such.
" That the different views of these different
parties occasion all confusion.
" That while a party is carrying on a general
design, each man has his particular private interest
in view." That as soon as a party has gain'd its general
point, each member becomes intent upon his par
ticular interest; which, thwarting others, breaks
that party into divisions, and occasions more con
fusion. " That few in public affairs act from a meer view
of the good of their country, whatever they may
pretend ; and, tho' their actings bring real good to
their country, yet men primarily considered that
' This is a marginal memorandum. — B.
Ill

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
their own and their country's interest was united,
and did not act from a principle of benevolence.
" That fewer still, in public affairs, act with a
view to the good of mankind.
"¦ There seems to me at present to be great occa
sion for raising a United Party for Virtue, by form
ing the virtuous and good men of all nations into a
regular body, to be govern'd by suitable good and
wise rules, which good and wise men may probably
be more unanimous in their obedience to, than com
mon people are to common laws.
" I at present think that whoever attempts this
aright, and is well qualified, can not fail of pleasing
God, and of meeting with success. B. F."
Revolving this project in my mind, as to be
undertaken hereafter, when my circumstances should
afford me the necessary leisure, I put down from
time to time, on pieces of paper, such thoughts as
occurr'd to me respecting it. Most of these are
lost ; but I find one purporting to be the substance
of an intended creed, containing, as I thought, the
essentials of every known religion, and being free of
every thing that might shock the professors of any
religion. It is express'd in these words, viz. :
" That there is one God, who made all things.
" That he governs the world by his providence.
" That he ought to be worshiped by adoration,
prayer, and thanksgiving.
" But that the most acceptable service of God is
doing good to man.
" That the soul is immortal.
" And that God will certainly reward virtue and
punish vice, either here or hereafter." ^
My ideas at that time were, that the sect should
be begun and spread at first among young and single
1 In the Middle Ages, Franklin, if such a phenomenon as
Franklin were possible in the Middle Ages, would probably have
been the founder of a monastic order. — B.
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
men only; that each person to be initiated should
not only declare his assent to such creed, but should
have exercised himself with the thirteen weeks'
examination and practice of the virtues, as in the
before-mention'd model ; that the existence of such
a society should be kept a secret, till it was become
considerable, to prevent solicitations for the admis
sion of improper persons, but that the members
should each of them search among his acquaintance
for ingenuous, well-disposed youths, to whom, with
prudent caution, the scheme should be gradually
communicated ; that the members should engage to
afford their advice, assistance, and support to each
other in promoting one another's interests, business,
and advancement in life; that, for distinction, we
should be call'd The Society of the Free and Easy:
free, as being, by the general practice and habit
of the virtues, free from the dominion of vice ; and
particularly by the practice of industry and frugality,
free from debt, which exposes a man to confinement,
and a species of slavery to his creditors.
This is as much as I can now recollect of the
project, except that I communicated it in part to two
young men, who adopted it with some enthusiasm ;
but my then narrow circumstances, and the neces
sity I was under of sticking close to my business,
occasion'd my postponing the further prosecution
of it at that time ; and my multifarious occupations,
public and private, induc'd me to continue postpon
ing, so that it has been omitted till I have no longer
strength or activity left sufficient for such an enter
prise ; tho' I am still of opinion that it was a
practicable scheme, and might have been very useful,
~~jby forming a great number of good citizens ; and
I was not discourag'd by the seeming magnitude of
the undertaking, as I have always thought that one
man of tolerable abilities may work great changes,
and accomplish great affairs among mankind, if he
H 113

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
first forms a good plan, and, cutting off all amuse
ments or other employments that would divert his
attention, makes the execution of that same plan his
sole study and business.
In 1732 I first publish'd my Almanack, under the
name of Richard Saunders ; it was continu'd by
me about twenty-five years, commonly call'd Poor
Richard's Almanack. I endeavor'd to make it both
entertaining and useful, and it accordingly came to
be in such demand, that I reap'd considerable profit
from it, vending annually near ten thousand. And
observing that it was generally read, scarce any
neighborhood in the province being without it, I
consider'd it as a proper vehicle for conveying
instruction among the common people, who bought
scarcely any other books ; I therefore filled all the
little spaces that occurr'd between the remarkable
days in the calendar with proverbial sentences,
chiefly such as inculcated industry and frugality, as
the means of procuring wealth, and thereby securing
virtue; it being more difficult for a man in want,
to act always honestly, as, to use here one of those
proverbs, it is hard for an empty sack to stand upright.
These proverbs, which contained the wisdom of
many ages and nations, I assembled and form'd into
a connected discourse prefix'd to the Almanack of
1757, as the harangue of a wise old man to the
people attending an auction. The bringing all
these scatter'd counsels thus into a focus enabled
them to make greater impression. The piece, being
universally approved, was copied in all the news
papers of the Continent ; reprinted in Britain on a
broad side, to be stuck up in houses ; two transla
tions were made of it in French, and great numbers
bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute gratis
among their poor parishioners and tenants. In
Pennsylvania, as it discouraged useless expense in
foreign superfluities, some thought it had its share
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HIS ALT^OBIOGRAPHY
of influence in producing that growing plenty of
money which was observable for several years after
its publication.
I considered my newspaper, also, as another
means of communicating instruction, and in that
view frequently reprinted in it extracts from the
Spectator, and other moral writers ; and sometimes
publish'd little pieces of my own, which had been
first compos'd for reading in our Junto. Of these
are a Socratic dialogue, tending to prove that, what
ever might be his parts and abilities, a vicious man
could not properly be called a man of sense ; and a
discourse on self-denial, showing that virtue was
not secure till its practice became a habitude, and
was free from the opposition of contrary inclina
tions. These may be found in the papers about the
beginning of 1735-
In the conduct of my newspaper, I carefully
excluded all libelling and personal abuse, which is
of late years become so disgraceful to our country.
Whenever I was solicited to insert any thing of that
kind, and the writers pleaded, as they generally did,
the liberty of the press, and that a newspaper was
like a stage-coach, in which any one who would pay
had a right to a place, my answer was, that I would
print the piece separately if desired, and the author
might have as many copies as he pleased to distribute
himself, but that I would not take upon me to spread
his detraction ; and that, having contracted with
my subscribers to furnish them with what might
be either useful or entertaining, I could not fill their
papers with private altercation, in which they had
no concern, without doing them manifest injustice.
Now, many of our printers make no scruple of
gratifying the malice of individuals by false accusa
tions of the fairest characters among ourselves,
augmenting animosity even to the producing of
duels ; and are, moreover, so indiscreet as to print
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
scurrilous reflections on the government of neigh
boring states, and even on the conduct of our best
national allies, which may be attended with the
most pernicious consequences. These things I men
tion as a caution to young printers, and that they
may be encouraged not to pollute their presses and
disgrace their profession by such infamous practices,
but refuse steadily, as they may see by my example
that such a course of conduct will not, on the whole,
be injurious to their interests.
In 1733 I sent one of my journeymen to Charles
ton, South Carolina, where a printer was wanting.
I furnish'd him with a press and letters, on an
agreement of partnership, by which I was to receive
one-third of the profits of the business, paying one-
third of the expense. He was a man of learning,
and honest but ignorant in matters of account ; and,
tho' he sometimes made me remittances, I could
get no account from him, nor any satisfactory state
of our partnership while he lived. On his decease,
the business was continued by his widow, who,
being born and bred in Holland, where, as I have
been inform'd, the knowledge of accounts makes
a part of female education, she not only sent me
as clear a state as she could find of the transactions
past, but continued to account with the greatest
regularity and exactness every quarter afterwards,
and managed the business with such success, that
she not- only brought up reputably a family of chil
dren, but, at the expiration of the term, was able to
purchase of me the printing-house, and establish her
son in it.
I mention this affair chiefly for the sake of re
commending that branch of education for our young
females, as likely to be of more use to them and
their children, in case of widowhood, than either
music or dancing, by preserving them from losses
by imposition of crafty men, and enabling them to
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
continue, perhaps, a profitable mercantile house,
with establish'd correspondence, till a son is grown
up fit to undertake and go on with it, to the lasting
advantage and enriching of the family.
About the year 1 7 34 there arrived among us
from Ireland a young Presbyterian preacher, named
Hemphill, who delivered with a good voice, and
apparentiy extempore, most excellent discourses,
which drew together considerable numbers of dif
ferent persuasions, who join'd in admiring them.
Among the rest, I became one of his constant
hearers, his sermons pleasing me, as they had little
of the dogmatical kind, but inculcated strongly the
practice of virtue, or what in the religious stile are
called good works. Those, however, of our con
gregation, who considered themselves as orthodox
Presbyterians, disapprov'd his doctrine, and were
join'd by most of the old clergy, who arraign'd
him of heterodoxy before the synod, in order to
have him silenc'd. I became his zealous partisan,
and contributed aU I could to raise a party in his
favour, and we combated for him a while with some
hopes of success. There was much scribbling pro
and con upon the occasion ; and finding that, tho'
an elegant preacher, he was but a poor writer, I
lent him my pen and wrote for him two or three
pamphlets, and one piece in the Gazette of April,
1735. Those pamphlets, as is generally the case
with controversial writings, tho' eagerly read at the
time, were soon out of vogue, and I question
whether a single copy of them now exists.
During the contest an unlucky occurrence hurt
his cause exceedingly. One of our adversaries
having heard him preach a sermon that was much
admired, thought he had somewhere read the sermon
before, or at least a part of it. On search, he found
that part quoted at length, in one of the British
Reviews, from a discourse of Dr Foster's. This
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
detection gave many of our party disgust, who
accordingly abandoned his cause, and occasion'd
our more speedy discomfiture in the synod. I
stuck by him, however, as I rather approv'd his
giving us good sermons compos'd by others, than
bad ones of his own manufacture, tho' the latter
was the practice of our common teachers. He
afterward acknowledg'd to me that none of those
he preach'd were his own ; adding, that his memory
was such as enabled him to retain and repeat any
sermon after one reading only. On our defeat, he
left us in search elsewhere of better fortune, and
I quitted the congregation, never joining it after,
tho' I continu'd many years my subscription for the
support of its ministers.
I had begun -in 1733 *° study languages; I soon
made myself so much a master of the French as to
be able to read the books with ease. I then under
took the Italian. An acquaintance, who was also
learning it, us'd often to tempt me to play chess
with him. Finding this took up too much of the
time I had to spare for study, I at length refus'd to
play any more, unless on this condition, that the
victor in every game should have a right to impose
a task, either in parts of the grammar to be got
by heart, or in translations, etc., which tasks the
vanquish'd was to perform upon honour, before our
next meeting. As we play'd pretty equally, we
thus beat one another into that language. I after
wards with a little painstaking, acquir'd as much of
the Spanish as to read their books also.
I have already mention'd that I had only one
year's instruction in a Latin school, and that when
very young, after which I neglected that language
entirely. But, when I had attained an acquaintance
with the French, Italian, and Spanish, I was sur
priz'd to find, on looking over a Latin Testament,
that I understood so much more of that language
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
than I had imagined, which encouraged me to apply
myself again to the study of it, and I met with more
success, as those preceding languages had greatly
smooth'd my way.
From these circumstances, I have thought that
there is some inconsistency in our common mode of
teaching languages. We are told that it is proper
to begin first with the Latin, and, having acquir'd
that, it will be more easy to attain those modern
languages which are deriv'd from it ; and yet we
do not begin with the Greek, in order more easily
to acquire the Latin. It is true that, if you can
clamber and get to the top of a staircase without
using the steps, you will more easily gain them in
descending; but certainly, if you begin with the
lowest you will with more ease ascend to the top ;
and I would therefore offer it to the consideration
of those who superintend the education of our
youth, whether, since many of those who begin
with the Latin quit the same after spending some
years without having made any great proficiency,
and what they have learnt becomes almost useless,
so that their time has been lost, it would not have
been better to have begun with the French, pro
ceeding to the Italian, etc. ; for, tho', after spending
the same time, they should quit the study of lan
guages and never arrive at the Latin, they would,
however, have acquired another tongue or two,
that, being in modern use, might be serviceable to
them in common life.
After ten years' absence from Boston, and having
become easy in my circumstances, I made a journey
thither to visit my relations, which I could not
sooner well afford. In returning, I call'd at New
port to see my brother, then settled there with his
printing-house. Our former differences were for
gotten, and our meeting was very cordial and affec
tionate. He was fast declining in his health, and
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
requested of me that, in case of his death, which
he apprehended not far distant, I would take home
his son, then but ten years of age, and bring him
up to the printing business. This I accordingly
perform'd, sending him a few years to school before
I took him into the office. His mother carried on
the business till he was grown up, when I assisted
him with an assortment of new types, those of his
father being in a manner worn out. Thus it was
that I made my brother ample amends for the service
I had depriv'd him of by leaving him so early.
In 1736 I lost one of my sons, a fine boy of four
years old, by the small-pox, taken in the common
way. I long regretted bitterly, and still regret that
I had not given it to him by inoculation. This I
mention for the sake of parents who omit that
operation, on the supposition that they should never
forgive themselves if a child died under it; my
example showing that the regret may be the same
either way, and that, therefore, the safer should be
chosen. Our dub, the Junto, was found so useful, and
afforded such satisfaction to the members, that
several were desirous of introducing their friends,
which could not well be done without exceeding
what we had settled as a convenient number, viz.,
twelve. We had from the beginning made it a rule
to keep our institution a secret, which was pretty
well observ'd ; the intention was to avoid applica
tions of improper persons for admittance, some of
whom, perhaps, we might find it difficult to refuse.
I was one of those who were against any addition
to our number, but, instead of it, made in writing a
proposal, that every member separately should en
deavor to form a subordinate club, with the same
rules respecting queries, etc., and without informing
them of the connection with the Junto. The advan
tages proposed were, the improvement of so many
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
more young citizens by the use of our institutions ;
our better acquaintance with the general sentiments
of the inhabitants on any occasion, as the Junto
member might propose what queries we should
desire, and was to report to the Junto what pass'd
in his separate dub ; the promotion of our particular
interests in business by more extensive recommen
dation, and the increase of our influence in public
affairs, and our power of doing good by spreading
thro' the several clubs the sentiments -of the Junto.
The project was approv'd, and every member
undertook to form his club, but they did not all suc
ceed. Five or six only were compleated, which
were called by different names, as the Vine, the
Union, the Band, etc. They were useful to them
selves, and afforded us a good deal of amusement,
information, and instruction, besides answering, in
some considerable degree, our views of influencing
the public opinion on particular occasions, of which
I shall give some instances in course of time as they
happened. My first promotion was my being chosen, in 1736,
clerk of the General Assembly. The choice was
made that year without opposition ; but the year
following, when I was again propos'd (the choice,
like that of the members, being annual), a new
member made a long speech against me, in order to
favour some other candidate. I was, however,
chosen, which was the more agreeable to me, as,
besides the pay for the immediate service as clerk,
the place gave me a better opportunity of keeping
up an interest among the members, which secur'd
to me the business of printing the votes, laws, paper
money, and other occasional jobbs for the public,
that, on the whole, were very profitable.
I therefore did not like the opposition of this new
member, who was a gentieman of fortune and edu
cation, with talents that were likely to give him, in
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
time, great influence in the House, which, indeed,
afterwards happened. I did not, however, aim at
gaining his favour by paying any servile respect to
him, but, after some time, took this other method.
Having heard that he had in his library a certain
very scarce and curious book, I wrote a note to him,
expressing my desire of perusing that book, and
requesting he would do me the favour of lending it
to me for a few days. He sent it immediately, and
I return'd it in about a week with another note,
expressing strongly my sense of the favour. When
we next met in the House, he spoke to me (which
he had never done before), and with great civihty ;
and he ever after manifested a readiness to serve
me on all occasions, so that we became great friends,
and our friendship continued to his death. This is
another instance of the truth of an old maxim I had
learned, which says, "He that has once done you a kind
ness ivill be more ready to do you another, than he whom
you yourself have obliged." And it shows how much
more profitable it is prudently to remove, than to
resent, return, and continue inimical proceedings.
In I737> Colonel Spotswood, late governor of
Virginia, and then postmaster-general, being dissatis
fied with the conduct of his deputy at Philadelphia,
respecting some negligence in rendering, and inex
actitude of his accounts, took from him the commis
sion and offered it to me. I accepted it readily, and
found it of great advantage ; for, tho' the salary
was small, it facilitated the correspondence that
improv'd my newspaper, increas'd the number de
manded, as well as the advertisements to be inserted,
so that it came to afford me a considerable income.
My old competitor's newspaper declin'd proportion-
ably, and I was satisfy'd without retahating his
refusal, while postmaster, to permit my papers being
carried by the riders. Thus he suffer'd greatly
from his neglect in due accounting ; and I mention
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
it as a lesson to those young men who may be
employ'd in managing affairs for others, that they
should always render accounts, and make remit
tances, with great clearness and punctuality. The
character of observing such a conduct is the most
powerful of all recommendations to new employ
ments and increase of business.
I began now to turn my thoughts a little to public
affairs, beginning, however, with small matters.
The dty watch was one of the first things that I
conceiv'd to want regulation. It was managed by
the constables of the respective wards in turn ; the
constable warned a number of housekeepers to
attend him for the night. Those who chose never
to attend, paid him six shillings a year to be excus'd,
which was suppos'd to be for hiring substitutes, but
was, in reality, much more than was necessary for
that purpose, and made the constableship a place of
profit ; and the constable, for a little drink, often got
such ragamuffins about him as a watch, that respect
able housekeepers did not choose to mix with.
Walking the rounds, too, was often neglected, and
most of the nights spent in tippling. I thereupon
wrote a paper to be read in Junto, representing
these irregularities, but insisting more particularly
on the inequahty of this six-shilling tax of the con
stables, respecting the circumstances of those who
paid it, since a poor widov/ housekeeper, all whose
property to be guarded by the watch did not perhaps
exceed the value of fifty pounds, paid as much as the
wealthiest merchant, who had thousands of pounds'
worth of goods in his stores.
On the whole, I proposed as a more effectual
watch, the hiring of proper men to serve constantly
in that business ; and as a more equitable way of
supporting the charge, the levying a tax that should
be proportion'd to the property. This idea, being
approv'd by the Junto, was communicated to the
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
other clubs, but as arising in each of them ; and
though the plan was not immediately carried into
execution, yet, by preparing the minds of people for
the change, it paved the way for the law obtained a
few years after, when the members of our clubs
were grown into more influence.
About this time I wrote a paper (first to be read
in Junto, but it was afterward publish'd) on the
different accidents and carelessnesses by which
houses were set on fire, with cautions against them,
and means proposed of avoiding them. This was
much spoken of as a useful piece, and gave rise to a
project, which soon followed it, of forming a com
pany for the more ready extinguishing of fires, and
mutual assistance in removing and securing of goods
when in danger. Associates in this scheme were
presently found, amounting to thirty. Our articles
of agreement oblig'd every member to keep always
in good order, and fit for use, a certain number of
leather buckets, with strong bags and baskets (for
packing and transporting of goods), which were to
be brought to every fire ; and we agreed to meet
once a month and spend a social evening together,
in discoursing and communicating such ideas as
occurred to us upon the subject of fires, as might be
useful in our conduct on such occasions.
The utility of this institution soon appeared, and
many more desiring to be admitted than we thought
convenient for one company, they were advised to
form another, which was accordingly done ; and this
went on, one new company being formed after
another, till they became so numerous as to include
most of the inhabitants who were men of property ;
and now, at the time of my writing this, tho' up
ward of fifty years since its establishment, that which
I first formed, called the Union Fire Company, still
subsists and flourishes, tho' the first members are all
deceas'd but myself and one, who is older by a year
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
than I am. The small fines that have been paid by
members for absence at the monthly meetings have
been apply'd to the purchase of fire-engines, ladders,
fire-hooks, and other useful implements for each
company, so that I question whether there is a city
in the world better provided with the means of put
ting a stop to beginning conflagrations ; and, in fact,
since these institutions, the city has never lost by
fire more than one or two houses at a time, and the
flames have often been extinguished before the house
in which they began has been half consumed.
In 1739 arrived among us from Ireland the
Reverend Mr Whitefield, who had made himself
remarkable there as an itinerant preacher. He was
at first permitted to preach in some of our churches ;
but the clergy, taking a dislike to him, soon refus'd
him their pulpits, and he was obhg'd to preach in
the fields. The multitudes of all sects and denomi
nations that attended his sermons were enormous,
and it was matter of speculation to me, who was
one of the number, to observe the extraordinary in
fluence of his oratory on his hearers, and how much
they admir'd and respected him, notwithstanding his
common abuse of them, by assuring them they were
naturally half beasts and half devils. It was wonder
ful to see the change soon made in the manners of
our inhabitants. From being thoughtless or in
different about religion, it seem'd as if all the world
were growing rehgious, so that one could not walk
thro' the town in an evening without hearing psalms
sung in different famihes of every street.
And it being found inconvenient to assemble in
the open air, subject to its inclemencies, the build
ing of a house to meet in was no sooner propos'd,
and persons appointed to receive contributions, but
sufficient sums were soon receiv'd to procure the
ground and erect the building, which was one
hundred feet long and seventy broad, about the size
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
of Westminster Hall ; and the work was carried on
with such spirit as to be finished in a much shorter
time than could have been expected. Both house
and ground were vested in trustees, expressly for
the use of any preacher of any religious persuasion
who might desire to say something to the people at
Philadelphia; the design in building not being to
accommodate any particular sect, but the inhabitants
in general ; so that even if the Mufti of Constanti
nople were to send a missionary to preach Moham
medanism to us, he would find a pulpit at his
service. Mr Whitefield, in leaving us, went preaching all
the way thro' the colonies to Georgia. The settle
ment of that province had lately been begun, but,
instead of being made with hardy, industrious
husbandmen, accustomed to labor, the only people
fit for such an enterprise, it was with families of
broken shop-keepers and other insolvent debtors,
many of indolent and idle habits, taken out of the
jails, who, being set down in the woods, unqualified
for clearing land, and unable to endure the hard
ships of a new settlement, perished in numbers,
leaving many helpless children unprovided for. The
sight of their miserable situation inspir'd the benevo
lent heart of Mr Whitefield with the idea of build
ing an Orphan House there, in which they might be
supported and educated. Returning northward, he
preach'd up this charity, and made large collections,
for his eloquence had a wonderful power over the
hearts and purses of his hearers, of which I myself
was an instance.
I did not disapprove of the design, but, as Georgia
was then destitute of materials and workmen, and
it was proposed to send them from Philadelphia at a
great expense, I thought it would have been better
to have built the house here, and brought the
children to it. This I advis'd ; but he was resolute
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
in his first project, rejected my counsel, and I there
for refus'd to contribute. I happened soon after to
attend one of his sermons, in the course of which I
perceived he intended to finish with a collection,
and I silentiy resolved he should get nothing from
me. I had in my pocket a handful of copper money,
three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold.
As he proceeded I began to soften, and concluded
to give the coppers. Another stroke of his oratory
made me asham'd of that, and determin'd me to give
the silver ; and he finish'd so admirably, that I
empty'd my pocket wholly into the collector's dish,
gold and all. At this sermon there was also one of
our club, who, being of my sentiments respecting
the building in Georgia, and suspecting a collection
might be intended, had, by precaution, emptied his
pockets before he came from home. Towards the
conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a
strong desire to give, and apply'd to a neighbour,
who stood near him, to borrow some money for the
purpose. The application was unfortunately [made]
to perhaps the only man in the company who had
the firmness not to be affected by the preacher.
His answer was, " At any other time. Friend Hopkin-
son, I "would lend to thee freely ; but not now, for thee
seems to be out of thy right senses."
Some of Mr Whitefield's enemies affected to sup
pose that he would apply these collections to his
own private emolument ; but I, who was intimately
acquainted with him (being employed in printing
his Sermons and Journals, etc.), never had the least
suspicion of his integrity, but am to this day de
cidedly of opiiuon that he was in all his conduct a
perfectly honest man ; and methinks my testimony in
his favour ought to have the more weight, as we
had no religious connection. He us'd, indeed,
sometimes to pray for my conversion, but never had
the satisfaction of believing that his prayers were
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
heard. Ours was a mere civil friendship, sincere
on both sides, and lasted to his death.
The following instance will show something of
the terms on which we stood. Upon one of his
arrivals from England at Boston, he wrote to me
that he should come soon to Philadelphia, but knew
not where he could lodge when there, as he under
stood his old friend and host, Mr Benezet, was
removed to German town. My answer was, " You
know my house ; if you can make shift with its
scanty accommodations, you will be most heartily
welcome." He reply'd, that if I made that kind
offer for Christ's sake, I should not miss of a reward.
And I returned, " Don't let me be mistaken ; it was
not for Chrises sake, but for your sake." One of
our common acquaintance jocosely remark'd, that,
knowing it to be the custom of the saints, when
they received any favour, to shift the burden of
the obligation from off their own shoulders, and
place it in heaven, I had contriv'd to fix it on
earth. The last time I saw Mr Whitefield was in London,
when he consulted me about his Orphan House
concern, and his purpose of appropriating it to the
establishment of a college.
He had a loud and clear voice, and articulated his
words and sentences so perfectly, that he might be
heard and understood at a great distance, especially
as his auditories, however numerous, observ'd the
most exact silence. He preach'd one evening from
the top of the Court-house steps, which are in the
middle of Market-street, and on the west side of
Second - street, which crosses it at right angles.
Both streets were fill'd with his hearers to a con
siderable distance. Being among the hindmost in
Market-street, I had the curiosity to learn how far
he could be heard, by retiring backwards down the
street towards the river ; and I found his voice dis-
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
tinct till I came near Front-street, when some noise
in that street obscur'd it. Imagining then a semi-
cirde, of which my distance should be the radius,
and that it were fill'd with auditors, to each of
whom I allow'd two square feet, I computed that
he might well be heard by more than thirty thousand.
This reconcil'd me to the newspaper accounts of his
having preach'd to twenty-five thousand people in
the fields, and to the antient histories of generals
haranguing whole armies, of which I had sometimes
doubted. By hearing him often, I came to distinguish easily
between sermons newly compos'd, and those which
he had often preach'd in the course of his travels.
His delivery of the latter was so improv'd by frequent
repetitions that every accent, every emphasis, every
modulation of voice, was so perfectly well turn'd
and well plac'd, that, without being interested in
the subject, one could not help being pleas'd with
the discourse ; a pleasure of much the same kind
with that receiv'd from an excellent piece of musick.
This is an advantage itinerant preachers have over
those who are stationary, as the latter can not
well improve their delivery of a sermon by so
many rehearsals.
His writing and printing from time to time gave
great advantage to his enemies; unguarded expres
sions, and even erroneous opinions, delivered in
preaching, might have been afterwards explain'd
or qualifi'd by supposing others that might have
accompani'd them, or they might have been deny'd ;
but litera scripta manet. Critics attack'd his writings
violently, and with so much appearance of reason
as to diminish the number of his votaries and
prevent their encrease ; so that I am of opinion if
he had never written any thing, he would have left
behind him a much more numerous and important
sect, and his reputation might in that case have been
I 129

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
still growing, even after his death, as there being
nothing of his writing on which to found a censure
and give him a lower character, his proselytes would
be left at liberty to feign for him as great a variety
of excellences as their enthusiastic admiration might
wish him to have possessed.
My business was now continually augmenting,
and my circumstances growing dally easier, my
newspaper having become very profitable, as being
for a time almost the only one in this and the
neighbouring provinces. I experienced, too, the
truth of the observation, "that after getting the first
hundred pound, it is more easy to get the second" money
itself being of a prolific nature. '
The partnership at Carolina having succeeded, I
was encourag'd to engage in others, and to promote
several of my workmen, who had behaved well, by
establishing them with printing-houses in different
colonies, on the same terms with that in Carolina.
Most of them did well, being enabled at the end of
our term, six years, to purchase the types of me and
go on working for themselves, by which means
several families were raised. Partnerships often
finish in quarrels; but I was happy in this, that
mine were all carried on and ended amicably,
owing, I think, a good deal to the precaution of
having very explicitly settled, in our articles,
every thing to be done by or expected from each
partner, so that there was nothing to dispute,
which precaution I would therefore recommend
to all who enter into partnerships ; for, whatever
esteem partners may have for, and confidence in
each other at the time of the contract, httle
jealousies and disgusts may arise, with ideas of
inequality in the care and burden of the business,
etc., which are attended often with breach of
friendship and of the connection, perhaps with
lawsuits and other disagreeable consequences.
130

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
I had, on the whole, abundant reason to be satisfied
with my being established in Pennsylvania. There
were, however, two things that I regretted, there
being no provision for defense, nor for a compleat
education of youth ; no militia, nor any college. I
therefore, in I743j drew up a proposal for establish
ing an academy ; and at that time, thinking the
Reverend Mr Peters, who was out of employ, a fit
person to superintend such an institution, I com*
municated the project to him ; but he, having more
profitable views in the service of the proprietaries,
which succeeded, declin'd the undertaking ; and,
not knowing another at that time suitable for such
a trust, I let the scheme lie a while dormant. I
succeeded better the next year, I744> in proposing
and estabhshing a Philosophical Society. The paper
I wrote for that purpose will be found among my
writings, when collected.
With respect to defense, Spain having been
several years at war against Great Britain, and
being at length join'd by France, which brought
us into great danger ; and the laboured and long-
continued endeavour of our governor, Thomas, to
prevail with our Quaker Assembly to pass a
militia law, and make other provisions for the
security of the province, having proved abortive,
I determined to try what might be done by a
voluntary association of the people. To promote
this, I first wrote and pubhshed a pamphlet, entitled
Plain Truth, in which I stated our defenceless
situation in strong lights, with the necessity of
union and discipline for our defense, and promis'd
to propose in a few days an association, to be
generally signed for that purpose. The pamphlet
had a sudden and surprising effect. I was call'd
upon for the instrument of association, and having
settled the draft of it with a few friends, I appointed
a meeting of the citizens in the large building before
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
mentioned. The house was pretty full ; I had pre
pared a number of printed copies, and provided pens
and ink dispers'd all over the room. I harangued
them a little on the subject, read the paper, and
explained it, and then distributed the copies,
which were eagerly signed, not the least objection
being made.
When the company separated, and the papers
were collected, we found above twelve hundred
hands ; and, other copies being dispersed in the
country, the subscribers amounted at length to
upward of ten thousand. These all furnished them
selves as soon as they could with arms, formed
themselves into companies and regiments, chose
their own officers, and met every week to be
instructed in the manual exercise, and other parts
of military discipline. The women, by subscriptions
among themselves, provided silk colors, which they
presented to the companies, painted with different
devices and mottos, which I supplied.
The officers of the companies composing the
Philadelphia regiment, being met, chose me for
their colonel ; but, conceiving myself unfit, I de
clin'd that station, and recommended Mr Lawrence,
a fine person, and inan of influence, who was
accordingly appointed. I then propos'd a lottery
to defray the expense of building a battery below
the town, and furnishing it with cannon. It filled
expeditiously, and the battery was soon erected, the
merlons being fram'd of logs and fill'd with earth.
We bought some old cannon from Boston, but, these
not being sufficient, we wrote to England for more,
soliciting, at the same time, our proprietaries for
some assistance, tho' without much expectation of
obtaining it.
Meanwhile, Colonel Lawrence, William Allen,
Abram Taylor, Esqr., and myself were sent to New
York by the associators, commission'd to borrow
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
some cannon of Governor Clinton. He at first
refus'd us peremptorily; but at dinner with his
council, where there was great drinking of Madeira
wine, as the custom of that place then was, he
softened by degrees, and said he would lend us six.
After a few more bumpers he advanc'd to ten ; and
at length he very good-naturedly conceded eighteen.
They were fine cannon, eighteen-pounders, with
their carriages, which we soon transported and
mounted on our battery, where the associators kept
a nightly guard while the war lasted, and among
the rest I regularly took my turn of duty there as a
common soldier.
My activity in these operations was agreeable to
the governor and council ; they took me into con
fidence, and I was consulted by them in every
measure wherein their concurrence was thought
useful to the assodatiou. Calling in the aid of
rehgion, I propos'd to .them the proclaiming a fast,
to promote reformation, and implore the blessing of
Heaven on our undertaking. They embrac'd the
motion ; but, as it was the first fast ever thought of
in the province, the secretary had no precedent from
which to draw the prodamation. My education in
New England, where a fast is proclaimed every year,
was here of some advantage : I drew it in the
accustomed stile, it was translated into German,
printed in both languages, and divulg'd thro' the
province. This gave the clergy of the different
sects an opportunity of influencing their congrega
tions to join in the association, and it would probably
have been general among all but Quakers if the
peace had not soon interven'd.
It was thought by some of my friends that, by my
activity in these affairs, I should offend that sect,
and thereby lose my interest in the Assembly of the
province, where they formed a great majority. A
young gentleman who had likewise some friends in
133

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
the House, and wished to succeed me as their clerk,
acquainted me that it was decided to displace me at
the next election ; and he, therefore, in good will,
advis'd me to resign, as more consistent with my
honour than being turn'd out. My answer to him
was, that I had read or heard of some public man
who made it a rule never to ask for an office, and
never to refuse one when offer'd to him. " I
approve," says I, " of his rule, and will practice it
with a small addition; I shall never ask, never
refuse, nor ever resign an office. If they will have
my office of clerk to dispose of to another, they
shall take it from me. I will not, by giving it up,
lose my right of some time or other making reprisals
on my adversaries." I heard, however, no more of
this; I was chosen again unanimously as usual at
the next election. Possibly, as they dislik'd my
late intimacy with the members of council, who
had join'd the governors in all the disputes about
military preparations, with which the House had
long been harass'd, they might have been pleas'd if
I would voluntarily have left them; but they did
not care to displace me on account merely of my
zeal for the assodatiou, and they could not well
give another reason.
Indeed I had some cause to believe that the
defense of the country was not disagreeable to any
of them, provided they were not requir'd to assist
in it. And I found that a much greater number of
them than I could have imagined, tho' against
offensive war, were clearly for the defensive. Many
pamphlets pro and con were publish'd on the subject,
and some by good Quakers, in favour of defense,
which I believe convinc'd most of their younger
people. A transaction in our fire company gave me some
insight into their prevailing sentiments. It had
been propos'd that we should encourage the scheme
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
for building a battery by laying out the present
stock, then about sixty pounds, in tickets of the
lottery. By our rules, no money could be dispos'd
of till the next meeting after the proposal. The
company consisted of thirty members, of which
twenty-two were Quakers, and eight only of other
persuasions. We eight punctually attended the
meeting ; but, tho' we thought that some of the
Quakers would join us, we were by no means sure
of a majority. Only one Quaker, Mr James Morris,
appear'd to oppose the measure. He expressed
much sorrow that it had ever been propos'd, as he
said Friends were all against it, and it would create
such discord as might break up the company. We
told him that we saw no reason for that ; we were
the minority, and if Friends were against the
measure, and outvoted us, we must and should,
agreeably to the usage of all societies, submit.
When the hour for business arriv'd it was mov'd to
put the vote ; he allow'd we might then do it by the
rules, but, as he could assure us that a number of
members intended to be present for the purpose of
opposing it, it would be but candid to allow a little
time for their appearing.
While we were disputing this, a waiter came to
tell me two gentlemen below desir'd to speak with
me. I went down, and found they were two of our
Quaker members. They told me there were eight
of them assembled at a tavern just by ; that they
were determin'd to come and vote with us if there
should be occasion, which they hop'd would not be
the case, and desir'd we would not call for their
assistance if we could do without it, as their voting
for such a measure might embroil them with their
elders and friends. Being thus secure of a majority,
I went up, and after a littie seeming hesitation,
agreed to a delay of another hour. This Mr Morris
allow'd to be extreamly fair. Not one of his
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
opposing friends appear'd, at which he express'd
great surprize ; and, at the expiration of the hour,
we carry'd the resolution eight to one ; and as, of
the twenty-two Quakers, eight were ready to vote
with us, and thirteen, by their absence, manifested
that they were not inclin'd to oppose the measure,
I afterward estimated the proportion of Quakers
sincerely against defense as one to twenty-one only ;
for these were all regular members of that society,
and in good reputation among them, and had due
notice of what was propos'd at that meeting.
The honorable and learned Mr Logan, who had
always been of that sect, was one who wrote an
address to them, declaring his approbation of defen
sive war, and supporting his opinion by many strong
arguments. He put into my hands sixty pounds to
be laid out in lottery tickets for the battery, with
directions to apply what prizes might be drawn
wholly to that service. He told me the following
anecdote of his old master, William Penn, respecting
defense. He came over from England, when a
young man, with that proprietary, and as his
secretary. It was war-time, and their ship was
chas'd by an armed vessel, suppos'd to be an enemy.
Their captain prepar'd for defense ; but told William
Penn, and his company of Quakers, that he did not
expect their assistance, and they might retire into
the cabin, which they did, except James Logan, who
chose to stay upon deck, and was quarter'd to a
gun. The suppos'd enemy prov'd a friend, so there
was no fighting ; but when the secretary went down
to communicate the intelligence, William Penn
rebuk'd him severely for staying upon deck, and
undertaking to assist in defending the vessel,
contrary to the principles of Friends, especially as it
had not been required by the captain. This reproof,
being before all the company, piqu'd the secretary,
who answer'd, " I being thy servant, why did thee not
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
order me to come down f But thee was willing enough
that I should stay and help to fight the ship when thee
thought there was danger."
My being many years in the Assembly, the
majority of which were constantly Quakers, gave
me frequent opportunities of seeing the embarrass
ment given them by their principle against war,
whenever application was made to them, by order of
the crown, to grant aids for military purposes.
They were unwilling to offend government, on the
one hand, by a direct refusal ; and their friends, the
body of the Quakers, qn the other, by a compliance
contrary to their principles ; hence a variety of
evasions to avoid complying, and modes of disguising
the compliance when it became unavoidable. The
common mode at last was, to grant money under the
phrase of its being "for the king's use," and never to
inquire how it was applied.
But, if the demand was not directly from the
crown, that phrase was found not so proper, and
some other was to be invented. As, when powder
was wanting (I think it was for the garrison at
Louisburg), and the government of New England
soUcited a grant of some from Pennsilvania, which
was much urg'd on the House by Governor Thomas,
they could not grant money to buy powder, because
that was an ingredient of war ; but they voted an
aid to New England of three thousand pounds, to
be put into the hands of the governor, and appro
priated it for the purchasing of bread, flour, wheat,
or other grain. Some of the council, desirous of
giving the House still further embarrassment, advis'd
the governor not to accept provision, as not being
the thing he had demanded ; but he reply'd, "I
shall take the money, for I understand very well
their meaning ; other grain is gunpowder," which he
accordingly bought, and they never objected to it.^
1 See the votes. — ^Marg. note.']
137

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
It was in allusion to this fact that, when in our fire
company we feared the success of our proposal in
favour of the lottery, and I had said to my friend
Mr Syng, one of our members, " If we fail, let us
move the purchase of a fire-engine with the money ;
the Quakers can have no objection to that ; and then,
if you nominate me and I you as a committee for that
purpose, we will buy a great gun, which is certainly
2^ fire-engine." " I see," says he, " you have improv'd
by being so long in the Assembly ; your equivocal
project would be just a match for their wheat or
other grain."
These embarrassments that the Quakers suffer'd
from having establish'd and published it as one of
their principles that no kind of war was lawful, and
which, being once published, they could not after
wards, however they might change their minds,
easily get rid of, reminds me of what I think a more
prudent conduct in another sect among us, that of
the Dunkers. I was acquainted with one of its
founders, Michael Welfare, soon after it appear'd.
He complain'd to me that they were grievously
calumniated by the zealots of other persuasions, and
charg'd with abominable principles and practices, to
which they were utter strangers. I told him this
had always been the case with new sects, and that,
to put a stop to such abuse, I imagin'd it might be
well to publish the articles of their belief, and the
rules of their discipline. He said that it had been
propos'd among them, but not agreed to, for this
reason : " When we were first drawn together as a
society," says he, " it had pleased God to enhghten
our minds so far as to see that some doctrines, which
we once esteemed truths, were errors ; and that
others, which we had esteemed errors, were real
truths. From time to time He has been pleased to
afford us farther light, and our principles have been
improving, and our errors diminishing. Now we
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
are not sure that we are arrived at the end of this
progression, and at the perfection of spiritual or
theological knowledge ; and we fear that, if we
should once print our confession of faith, we should
feel ourselves as if bound and confin'd by it, and
perhaps be unwilling to receive further improve
ment, and our successors still more so, as conceiv
ing what we their elders and founders had done,
to be something sacred, never to be departed
from." This modesty in a sect is perhaps a singular
instance in the history of mankind, every other
sect supposing itself in possession of all truth, and
that those who differ are so far in the wrong ; like
a man traveling in foggy weather, those at some
distance before him on the road he sees wrapped up
in the fog, as well as those behind him, and also the
people in the fields on each side, but near him all
appears clear, tho' in truth he is as much in the fog
as any of them. To avoid this kind of embar
rassment, the Quakers have of late years been
gradually declining the public service in the As
sembly and in the magistracy, choosing rather to
quit their power than their principle.
In order of time, I should have mentioned before,
that having, in 1742, invented an open stove for the
better warming of rooms, and at the same time
saving fuel, as the fresh air admitted was warmed
in entering, I made a present of the model to Mr
Robert Grace, one of my early friends, who, having
an iron-furnace, found the casting of the plates for
these stoves a profitable thing, as they were grow
ing in demand. To promote that demand, I wrote
and published a pamphlet, entitled "An Account of
the new-invented Pennsylvania Fireplaces ; wherein their
Construction and Manner of Operation is particularly
explained; their Advantages above every other Method
of "warming Rooms demonstrated ; and all Objections that
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
have been raised against the Use of them ans"wered and
obviated," etc. This pamphlet had a good effect.
Gov'r. Thomas was so pleas'd with the construction
of this stove, as described in it, that he offered to
give me a patent for the sole vending of them for a
term of years ; but I declin'd it from a principle
which has ever weighed with me on such occasions,
viz.. That, as we enjoy great advantages from the in
ventions of others, "we should be glad of an opportunity
to serve others by any invention of ours ; and this vie
should do freely and generously.
An ironmonger in London however, assuming a
good deal of my pamphlet, and working it up into
his own, and making some small changes in the
machine, which rather hurt its operation, got a
patent for it there, and made, as I was told, a littie
fortune by it. And this is not the only instance of
patents taken out for my inventions by others, tho'
not always with the same success, which I never
contested, as having no desire of profiting by patents
myself, and hating disputes. The use of these fire
places in very many houses, both of this and the
neighbouring colonies, has been, and is, a great
saving of wood to the inhabitants.
Peace being concluded, and the association busi
ness therefore at an end, I turn'd my thoughts again
to the affair of establishing an academy. The first
step I took was to associate in the design a number
of active friends, of whom the Junto furnished a good
part ; the next was to write and publish a pamphlet,
entitied Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth in
Pennsylvania. This I distributed among the prin
cipal inhabitants gratis ; and as soon as I could suppose
their minds a little prepared by the perusal of it, I
set on foot a subscription for opening and supporting
an academy ; it was to be paid in quotas yearly for
five years; by so dividing it, I judg'd the subscrip
tion might be larger, and I believed it was so,
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
amounting to no less, if I remember right, than
five thousand pounds.
In the introduction to these proposals, I stated
their publication, not as an act of mine, but of some
publick-spirited gentlemen, avoiding as much as I could,
according to my usual rule, the presenting myself
to the publick as the author of any scheme for their
benefit. The subscribers, to carry the project into imme
diate execution, chose out of their number twenty-
four trustees, and appointed Mr Francis, then
attorney-general, and myself to draw up constitu
tions for the government of the academy ; which
being done and signed, a house was hired, masters
engag'd, and the schools opened, I think, in the same
year, 1749.
The scholars increasing fast, the house was soon
found too small, and we were looking out for a piece
of ground, properly situated, with intention to build,
when Providence threw into our way a large house
ready built, which, -with a few alterations, might
well serve our purpose. This was the building
before mentioned, erected by the hearers of Mr
Whitefield, and was obtained for us in the following
manner. It is to be noted that the contributions to this
building being made by people of different sects,
care was taken in the nomination of trustees, in
whom the building and ground was to be vested,
that a predominancy should not be given to any
sect, lest in time that predominancy might be a
means of appropriating the whole to the use of such
sect, contrary to the original intention. It was
therefore that one of each sect was appointed, viz.,
one Church-of-England man, one Presbyterian, one
Baptist, one Moravian, etc., those, in case of vacancy
by death, were to fill it by election from among the
contributors. The Moravian happen'd not to please
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
his colleagues, and on his death they resolved to
have no other of that sect. The difficulty then was,
how to avoid having two of some other sect, by
means of the new choice.
Several persons were named, and for that reason
not agreed to. At length one mention'd me, with
the observation that I was merely an honest man,
and of no sect at all, which prevail'd with them to
chuse me. The enthusiasm which existed when
the house was built had long since abated, and its
trustees had not been able to procure fresh contri
butions for paying the ground-rent, and discharging
some other debts the building had occasion'd, which
embarrass'd them greatly. Being now a member of
both setts of trustees, that for the building and that
for the Academy, I had a good opportunity of
negotiating with both, and brought them finally
to an agreement, by which the trustees for the
building were to cede it to those of the academy,
the latter undertaking to discharge the debt, to keep
for ever open in the building a large hall for occa
sional preachers, according to the original intention,
and maintain a free-school for the instruction of poor
children. Writings were accordingly drawn, and
on paying the debts the trustees of the academy
were put in possession of the premises ; and by
dividing the great and lofty hall into stories, and
different rooms above and below for the several
schools, and purchasing some additional ground, the
whole was soon made fit for our purpose, and the
scholars remov'd into the building. The care and
trouble of agreeing with the workmen, purchasing
materials, and superintending the work, fell upon
me ; and I went thro' it the more cheerfully, as it did
not then interfere with my private business, having
the year before taken a very able, industrious, and
honest partner, Mr David Hall, with whose char
acter I was well acquainted, as he had work'd for me
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
four years. He took off my hands all care of the
printing-office, paying me punctually my share of
the profits. The partnership continued eighteen
years, successfully for us both.
The trustees of the academy, after a while, were
incorporated by a charter from the governor ; their
funds were increas'd by contributions in Britain and
grants of land from the proprietaries, to which the
Assembly has since made considerable addition;
and thus was established the present University of
Philadelphia, I have been continued one of its
trustees from the beginning, now near forty years,
and have had the very great pleasure of seeing a
number of the youth who have receiv'd their educa
tion in it, distinguish'd by their improv'd abilities,
serviceable in public stations, and ornaments to their
country. When I disengaged myself, as above mentioned,
from private business, I flatter'd myself that, by the
sufficient tho' moderate fortune I had acquir'd, I had
secured leisure during the rest of my life for philo
sophical studies and amusements. I purchased all
Dr Spence's apparatus, who had come from Eng
land to lecture here, and I proceeded in my elec
trical experiments with great alacrity ; but the pub-
hck, now considering me as a man of leisure, laid
hold of me for their purposes, every part of our
dvU government, and almost at the same time, im
posing some duty upon me. The governor put me
into the commission of the peace ; the corpora
tion of the city chose me of the common council,
and soon after an alderman ; and the citizens at
large chose me a burgess to represent them in
Assembly. This latter station was the more agree
able to me, as I was at length tired with sitting there
to hear debates, in which, as clerk, I could take no
part, and which were often so u neuter taining that I
was induc'd to amuse myself with making magic
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
squares or circles, or any thing to avoid weariness ;
and I conceiv'd my becoming a member would
enlarge my power of doing good. I would not,
however, insinuate that my ambition was not flatter'd
by all these promotions ; it certainly was ; for, con
sidering my low beginning, they were great things
to me ; and they were still more pleasing, as being
so many spontaneous testimonies of the public good
opinion, and by me entirely unsolidted.
The office of justice of the peace I try'd a little,
by attending a few courts, and sitting on the bench
to hear causes ; but finding that more knowledge of
the common law than I possess'd was necessary to
act in that station with credit, I gradually withdrew
from it, excusing myself by my being oblig'd to
attend the higher duties of a legislator in the
Assembly. My election to this trust was repeated
every year for ten years, without my ever asking
any elector for his vote, or signifying, either directly
or indirectly, any desire of being chosen. On taking
my seat in the House, my son was appointed their
clerk. The year following, a treaty being to be held with
the Indians at Carlisle, the governor sent a message
to the House, proposing that they should nominate
some of their members, to be join'd with some
members of council, as commissioners for that pur
pose.^ The House named the speaker (Mr Norris)
and myself; and, being commission'd, we went to
Carlisle, and met the Indians accordingly.
As those people are extreamly apt to get drunk,
and, when so, are very quarrelsome and disorderly,
we strictly forbad the selling any liquor to them ;
and when they complain'd of this restriction, we
told them that if they would continue sober during
the treaty, we would give them plenty of rum when
business was over. They promis'd this, and they
'See the votes to have this more correctly. — [Marg. note.]
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
kept their promise, because they could get no liquor,
and the treaty was conducted very orderly, and con
cluded to mutual satisfaction. They then claim'd
and receiv'd the rum ; this was in the afternoon :
they were near one hundred men, women, and chil
dren, and were lodg'd in temporary cabins, built in
the form of a square, just without the town. In the
evening, hearing a great noise among them, the
commissioners walk'd out to see what was the
matter. We found they had made a great bonfire
in the middle of the square ; they were all drunk,
men and women, quarreling and fighting. Their
dark-colour'd bodies, half naked, seen only by the
gloomy light of the bonfire, running after and beat
ing one another with firebrands, accompanied by
their horrid yellings, form'd a scene the most resem
bling our ideas of hell that could well be imagin'd ;
there was no appeasing the tumult, and we retired
to our lodging. At midnight a number of them
came thundering at our door, demanding more rum,
of which we took no notice.
The next day, sensible they had misbehav'd in
giving us that disturbance, they sent three of their
old counselors to make their apology. The orator
acknowledg'd the fault, but laid it upon the rum ;
and then endeavored to excuse the rum by saying,
" The Great Spirit, who made all things, made every thing
for some use, and "whatever use he design' d any thing for,
that use it should always be put to. Now, when he made
rum, he said, ' Let this be for the Indians to get drunk
with,' and it must be so." And, indeed, if it be the
design of Providence to extirpate these savages in
order to make room for cultivators of the earth, it
seems not improbable that rum may be the appointed
means. It has already annihilated all the tribes who
formerly inhabited the sea-coast.
In 1751, Dr Thomas Bond, a particular friend of
mine, conceived the idea of establishing a hospital
K 145

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
in Philadelphia (a very beneficent design, which has
been ascrib'd to me, but was originally his), for the
reception and cure of poor sick persons, whether
inhabitants of the province or strangers. He was
zealous and active in endeavouring to procure sub
scriptions for it, but the proposal being a novelty in
America, and at first not well understood, he met
with but small success.
At length he came to me with the compliment
that he found there was no such thing as carrying
a public-spirited project through without my being
concern'd in it. " For," says he, " I am often ask'd
by those to whom I propose subscribing. Have you
consulted Franklin upon this business ? And what
does he think of it ? And when I tell them that I
have not (supposing it rather out of your line), they
do not subscribe, but say they will consider of it."
I enquired into the nature and probable utility of his
scheme, and receiving from him a very satisfactory
explanation, I not only subscrib'd to it myself, but
engag'd heartily in the design of procuring sub
scriptions from others. Previously, however, to the
solicitation, I endeavoured to prepare the minds of
the people by writing on the subject in the news
papers, which was my usual custom in such cases,
but which he had omitted.
The subscriptions afterwards were more free and
generous ; but, beginning to flag, I saw they would
be insufficient without some assistance from the
Assembly, and therefore propos'd to petition for it,
which was done. The country members did not at
first rehsh the project ; they objected that it could
only be serviceable to the city, and therefore the
citizens alone should be at the expense of it; and
they doubted whether the citizens themselves gen
erally approv'd of it. My allegation on the con
trary, that it met with such apjjrobation as to leave
no doubt of our being able to raise two thousand
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
pounds by voluntary donations, they considered as
a most extravagant supposition, and utterly impos
sible. On this I form'd my plan ; and, asking leave to
bring in a bill for incorporating the contributors ac
cording to the prayer of their petition, and granting
them a blank sum of money, which leave was ob
tained chiefly on the consideration that the House
could throw the bill out if they did not like it, I
drew it so as to make the important clause a condi
tional one, viz., " And be it enacted, by the autho
rity aforesaid, that when the said contributors shall
have met and chosen their managers and treasurer,
and shall have raised by their contributions a capi
tal stock of  value (the yearly interest of
which is to be applied to the accommodating of
the sick poor in the said hospital, free of charge
for diet, attendance, advice, and medicines), and
shall make the same appear to the satisfaction
of the speaker of the Assembly for the time being,
that then it shall and may be lawful for the said
speaker, and he is hereby required, to sign an order
on the provincial treasurer for the payment of two
thousand pounds, in two yearly payments, to the
treasurer of the said hospital, to be apphed to the
founding, building, and finishing of the same."
This condition carried the bill through ; for the
members, who had oppos'd the grant, and now con
ceiv'd they might have the credit of being charit
able without the expence, agreed to its passage ; and
then, in soliciting subscriptions among the people,
we urg'd the conditional promise of the law as an
additional motive to give, since every man's dona
tion would be doubled ; thus the clause work'd both
ways. The subscriptions accordingly soon exceeded
the requisite sum, and we claim'd and receiv'd the
public gift, which enabled us to carry the design
into execution.. A convenient and handsome build-
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
ing was soon erected ; the institution has by constant
experience been found useful, and flouris.hes to this
day; and I do not remember any of my political
manoeuvres, the success of which gave me at the
time more pleasure, or wherein, after thinking of it,
I more easily excus'd myself for having made some
use of cunning.
It was about this time that another projector,
the Rev. Gilbert Tennent, came to me with a re
quest that I would assist him in procuring a sub
scription for erecting a new meeting-house. It was
to be for the use of a congregation he had gathered
among the Presbyterians, who were originally dis
ciples of Mr Whitfield. Unwilling to make my
self disagreeable to my fellow-citizens by too
frequently sohciting their contributions, I absolutely
refus'd. He then desired I would furnish him with
a list of the names of persons I knew by experience
to be generous and public-spirited. I thought it
would be unbecoming in me, after their kind com
pliance with my solicitations, to mark them out to
be worried by other beggars, and therefore refus'd
also to give such a list. He then desir'd I would
at least give him my advice. "That I will readily
do," said I ; " and, in the first place, I advise you to
apply to all those whom you know will give some
thing; next, to those whom you are uncertain
whether they will give any thing or not, and show
them the fist of those who have given ; and, lastly,
do not neglect those who you are sure will give
nothing, for in some of them you may be mistaken."
He laugh'd and thank'd me, and said he would take
my advice. He did so, for he ask'd of everybody,
and he obtain'd a much larger sum than he expected,
with which he erected the capacious and very ele
gant meeting-house that stands in Arch-street.
Our city, tho' laid out with a beautiful regularity,
the streets large, strait, and crossing each other
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
at right angles, had the disgrace of suffering those
streets to remain long unpav'd, and in wet weather
the wheels of heavy carriages plough'd them into a
quagmire, so that it was difficult to cross them ; and
in dry weather the dust was offensive. I had hv'd
near what was call'd the Jersey Market, and saw
with pain the inhabitants wading in mud while
purchasing their provisions. A strip of ground
down the middle of that market was at length pav'd
with brick, so that, being once in the market, they
had firm footing, but were often over shoes in dirt
to get there. By talking and writing on the subject,
I was at length instrumental in getting the street
pav'd with stone between the market and the brick'd
foot-pavement, that was on each side next the
houses. This, for some time, gave an easy access
to the market dry-shod ; but, the rest of the street
not being pav'd, whenever a carriage came out of
the mud upon this pavement, it shook off and left
its dirt upon it, and it was soon cover'd with mire,
which was not remov'd, the city as yet having no
scavengers. After some inquiry, I found a poor, industrious
man, who was willing to undertake keeping the
pavement clean, by sweeping it twice a week, carry
ing off the dirt from before all the neighbours' doors,
for the sum of sixpence per month, to be paid by
each house. I then wrote and printed a paper
setting forth the advantages to the neighbourhood
that might be obtain'd by this small expense; the
greater ease in keeping our houses clean, so much
dirt not being brought in by people's feet ; the bene
fit to the shops by more custom, etc., etc., as buyers
could more easily get at them ; and by not having,
in windy weather, the dust blown in upon their
goods, etc., etc. I sent one of these papers to each
house, and in a day or two went round to see who
would subscribe an agreement to pay these six-
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
pences; it was unanimously sign'd, and for a time
well executed. All the inhabitants of the city were
delighted with the cleanliness of the pavement that
surrounded the market, it being a convenience to
all, and this rais'd a general desire to have all the
streets paved, and made the people more willing to
submit to a tax for that purpose.
After some time I drew a bill for paving the city,
and brought it into the Assembly. It was just be
fore I went to England, in I757> ^"^^ did not pass
till I was gone,^ and then with an alteration in the
mode of assessment, which I thought not for the
better, but with an additional provision for lighting
as well as paving the streets, which was a great im
provement. It was by a private person, the late
Mr John Clifton, his giving a sample of the utility
of lamps, by placing one at his door, that the people
were first impress'd with the idea of enlighting all the
city. The honour of this public benefit has also been
ascrib'd to me, but it belongs truly to that gentle
man. I did but follow his example, and have only
some merit to claim respecting the form of our
lamps, as differing from the globe lamps we were
at first supply'd with from London. Those we
found inconvenient in these respects : they admitted
no air below ; the smoke, therefore, did not readily
go out above, but circulated in the globe, lodg'd on
its inside, and soon obstructed the light they were
intended to afford ; giving, besides, the daily trouble
of wiping them clean ; and an accidental stroke on
one of them would demolish it, and render it totally
useless. I therefore suggested the composing them
of four flat panes, with a long funnel above to draw
up the smoke, and crevices admitting air below, to
facihtate the ascent of the smoke ; by this means
they were kept clean, and did not grow dark in a
few hours, as the London lamps do, but continu'd
' See votes.
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
bright till morning, and an accidental stroke would
generally break but a single pane, easily repair'd.
I have sometimes wonder'd that the Londoners
did not, from the effect holes in the bottom of the
globe lamps us'd at Vauxhall have in keeping them
dean, learn to have such holes in their street lamps.
But, these holes being made for another purpose,
viz., to communicate flame more suddenly to the
wick by a little flax hanging down thro' them, the
other use, of letting in wr, seems not to have been
thought of; and therefore, after the lamps have been
fit a few hours, the streets of London are very
poorly illuminated.
The mention of these improvements puts me in
mind of one I propos'd, when in London, to Dr
FothergiU, who was among the best men I have
known, and a great promoter of useful projects. I
had observ'd that the streets, when dry, were never
swept, and the light dust carried away ; but it was
suffer'd to accumulate till wet weather reduc'd it to
mud, and then, after lying some days so deep on
the pavement that there was no crossing but in paths
kept dean by poor people with brooms, it was with
great labour rak'd together and thrown up into carts
open above, the sides of which suffer'd some of the
slush at every jolt on the pavement to shake out
and fall, sometimes to the annoyance of foot-pas
sengers. The reason given for not sweeping the
dusty streets was, that the dust would fly into the
windows of shops and houses.
An accidental occurrence had instructed me how
much sweeping might be done in a little time. I
found at my door in Craven-street, one morning, a
poor woman sweeping my pavement with a birch
broom ; she appeared very pale and feeble, as just
come out of a fit of sickness. I ask'd who employ'd
her to sweep there; she said, "Nobody, but I am
very poor and in distress, and I sweeps before gen-
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
tlefolkses doors, and hopes they will give me some
thing." I bid her sweep the whole street clean, and
I would give her a shilling ; this was at nine o'clock ;
at 12 she came for the shilling. From the slow
ness I saw at first in her working, I could scarce
believe that the work was done so soon, and sent
my servant to examine it, who reported that the
whole street was swept perfectly clean, and all the
dust plac'd in the gutter, which was in the middle ;
and the next rain wash'd it quite away, so that the
pavement and even the kennel were perfectly clean.
I then judg'd that, if that feeble woman could
sweep such a street in three hours, a strong, active
man might have done it in half the time. And here
let me remark the convenience of having but one
gutter in such a narrow street, running down its
middle, instead of two, one on each side, near the
footway ; for where all the rain that falls on a street
runs from the sides and meets in the middle, it forms
there a current strong enough to wash away all the
mud it meets with ; but when divided into two chan
nels, it is often too weak to cleanse either, and only
makes the mud it finds more fluid, so that the
wheels of carriages and feet of horses throw and
dash it upon the foot-pavement, which is thereby
rendered foul and slippery, and sometimes splash it
upon those who are walking. My proposal, com
municated to the good doctor, was as follows :
" For the more effectual cleaning and keeping
clean the streets of London and Westminster, it is
proposed that the several watchmen be contracted
with to have the dust swept up in dry seasons, and
the mud rak'd up at other times, each in the severd
streets and lanes of his round ; that they be furnish'd
with brooms and other proper instruments for these
purposes, to be kept at their respective stands, ready
to furnish the poor people they may employ in the
service. 152

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
"That in the dry summer months the dust be all
swept up into heaps at proper distances, before the
shops and windows of houses are usually opened,
when the scavengers, with close-covered carts, shall
also carry it all away.
"That the mud, when rak'd up, be not left in
heaps to be spread abroad again by the wheels of
carriages and trampling of horses, but that the scav
engers be provided with bodies of carts, not plac'd
high upon wheels, but low upon sliders, with lattice
bottoms, which, being cover'd with straw, will re
tain the mud thrown into them, and permit the
water to drain from it, whereby it will become much
lighter, water making the greatest part of its weight ;
these bodies of carts to be plac'd at convenient
distances, and the mud brought to them in wheel
barrows ; they remaining where plac'd till the mud
is drain'd, and then horses brought to draw them
away." I have since had doubts of the practicability of
the latter part of this proposal, on account of the
narrowness of some streets, and the difficulty of
pladng the draining-sleds so as not to encumber too
much the passage ; but I am still of opinion that
the former, requiring the dust to be swept up and
carry'd away before the shops are open, is very
practicable in the summer, when the days are long ;
for, in walking thro' the Strand and Fleet-street one
morning at seven o'clock, I observ'd there was not
one shop open, tho' it had been daylight and the
sun up above three hours '; the inhabitants of London
chusing voluntarily to live much by candle-light,
and sleep by sunshine, and yet often complain, a
littie absurdly, of the duty on candles, and the high
price of tallow.
Some may think these trifling matters not worth
minding or relating ; but when they consider that
tho' dust blown into the eyes of a single person,
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
or into a single shop on a windy day, is but of small
importance, yet the great number of the instances
in a populous city, and its frequent repetitions give it
weight and consequence, perhaps they will not cen
sure very severely those who bestow some attention
to affairs of this seemingly low nature. Human
felicity is produc'd not so much by great pieces of
good fortune that seldom happen, as by little advan
tages that occur every day. Thus, if you teach a
poor young man to shave himself, and keep his
razor in order, you may contribute more to the hap
piness of his life than in giving him a thousand
guineas. The money may be soon spent, the regret
only remaining of having foolishly consumed it ;
but in the other case, he escapes the frequent vexa
tion of waiting for barbers, and of their sometimes
dirty fingers, offensive breaths, and dull razors ; he
shaves when most convenient to him, and enjoys
daily the pleasure of its being done with a good
instrument. With these sentiments I have hazarded
the few preceding pages, hoping they may afford
hints which some time or other may be useful to a
city I love, having lived many years in it very
happily, and perhaps to some of our towns in
America. Having been for some time employed by the post
master-general of America as his comptroller in
regulating several offices, and bringing the officers
to account, I was, upon his death in 1753, appointed,
jointly with Mr William Hunter, to succeed him,
by a commission from the postmaster-general in
England. The American office never had hitherto
paid any thing to that of Britain. We were to have
six hundred pounds a year between us, if we could
make that sum out of the profits of the office. To
do this, a variety of improvements were necessary ;
some of these were inevitably at first expensive, so
that in the first four years the office became above
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
nine hundred pounds in debt to us. But it soon
after began to repay us ; and before I was displac'd
by a freak of the ministers, of which I shall speak
hereafter, we had brought it to yield three times as
much clear revenue to the crown as the postoffice
of Ireland. Since that imprudent transaction, they
have receiv'd from it — not one farthing !
The business of the postoffice occasion'd my
taking a journey this year to New England, where
the College of Cambridge, of their own motion, pre
sented me with the degree of Master of Arts. Yale
College, in Connecticut, had before made me a
similar compliment. Thus, without studying in any
college, I came to partake of their honours. They
were conferr'd in consideration of my improvements
and discoveries in the electric branch of natural
philosophy. In 1754, ^^"^ ^i*^^ France being again appre
hended, a congress of commissioners from the differ
ent colonies was, by order of the Lord of Trade,
to be assembled at Albany, there to confer with the
chiefs of the Six Nations concerning the means of
defending both their country and ours. Governor
Hamilton, having receiv'd this order, acquainted the
House with it, requesting they would furnish proper
presents for the Indians, to be given on this occa
sion; and naming the speakei: (Mr Norris) and
myself to join Mr Thomas Penn and Mr Secretary
Peters as commissioners to act for Pennsylvania.
The House approv'd the nomination, and provided
the goods for the present, and tho' they did not much
like treating out of the provinces ; and we met the
other commissioners at Albany about the middle of
June. In our way thither, I projected and drew a plan
for the union of all the colonies under one govern
ment, so far as might be necessary for defense, and
other important general purposes. As we pass'd
^55

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
thro' New York, I had there shown my project to
Mr James Alexander and Mr Kennedy, two gen
tlemen of great knowledge in public affairs, and,
being fortified by their approbation, I ventur'd to
lay it before the Congress. It then appeared that
several of the commissioners had form'd plans of
the same kind. A previous question was first taken,
whether a union should be established, which pass'd
in the affirmative unanimously. A committee was
then appointed, one member from each colony, to
consider the several plans and report. Mine hap
pen'd to be preferr'd, and, with a few amendments,
was accordingly reported.
By this plan the general government was to be
administered by a president-general, appointed and
supported by the crown, and a grand coundl was
to be chosen by the representatives of the people
of the several colonies, met in their respective as
semblies. The debates upon it in Congress went
on daily, hand in hand with the Indian business.
Many objections and difficulties were started, but at
length they were all overcome, and the plan was
unanimously agreed to, and copies ordered to be
transmitted to the Board of Trade and to the assem-
bhes of the several provinces. Its fate was singu
lar : the assemblies did not adopt it, as they all
thought there was too much prerogative in it, and
in England it was judg'd to have too much of the
democratic. The Board of Trade therefore did not
approve of it, nor recommend it for the approbation
of his majesty ; but another scheme was form'd,
supposed to answer the same purpose better, where
by the governors of the provinces, with some mem
bers of their respective councils, were to meet and
order the raising of troops, building of forts, etc.,
and to draw on the treasury of Great Britain for the
expense, which was afterwards to be refunded by
an act of Parliament laying a tax on America. My
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
plan, with my reasons in support of it, is to be found
among my political papers that are printed.
Being the winter following in Boston, I had much
conversation with Governor Shirley upon both the
plans. Part of what passed between us on the oc
casion may also be seen among those papers. The
different and contrary reasons of dislike to my plan
makes me suspect that it was really the true me
dium ; and I am still of opinion it would have been
happy for both sides the water if it had been adopted.
The colonies, so united, would have been sufficiently
strong to have defended themselves ; there would
then have been no need of troops from England ;
of course, the subsequent pretence for taxing
America, and the bloody contest it occasioned,
would have been avoided. But such mistakes are
not new ; history is full of the errors of states and
princes. " Look round the habitable world, how few
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue ! "
Those who govern, having much business on
their hands, do not generally like to take the trouble
of considering and carrying into execution new
projects. The best public measures are therefore
seldom adopted from previous "wisdom, but forc'd by the
occasion. The Governor of Pennsylvania, in sending it
down to the Assembly, express'd his approbation
of the plan, " as appearing to him to be drawn up
with great clearness and strength of judgment, and
therefore recommended it as well worthy of their
closest and most serious attention." The House,
however, by the management of a certain member,
took it up when I happen'd to be absent, which I
thought not very fair, and reprobated it without
paying any attention to it at all, to my no small
mortification. 157

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
In my journey to Boston this year, I met at New
York with our new governor, Mr Morris, just
arriv'd there from England, with whom I had been
before intimately acquainted. He brought a com
mission to supersede Mr Hamilton, who, tir'd with
the disputes his proprietary instructions subjected
him to, had resign'd. Mr Morris ask'd me if I
thought he must expect as uncomfortable an admin
istration. I said, " No ; you may, on the contrary,
have a very comfortable one, if you will only take
care not to enter into any dispute with the Assem
bly." " My dear friend," says he, pleasantly, " how
can you advise my avoiding disputes ? You know
I love disputing ; it is one of my greatest pleasures ;
however, to show the regard I have for your coun
sel, I promise you I will, if possible, avoid them."
He had some reason for loving to dispute, being
eloquent, an acute sophister, and, therefore, gene
rally successful in argumentative conversation. He
had been brought up to it from a boy, his father, as
I have heard, accustoming his children to dispute
with one another for his diversion, while sitting at
table after dinner ; but I think the practice was not
wise ; for, in the course of my observation, these
disputing, contradicting, and confuting people are
generally unfortunate in their affairs. They get
victory sometimes, but they never get good will,
which would be of more use to them. We parted,
he going to Philadelphia, and I to Boston.
In returning, I met at New York with the votes
of the Assembly, by which it appear'd that, notwith
standing his promise to me, he and the House were
already in high contention ; and it was a continual
battle between them as long as he retain'd the gov
ernment. I had my share of it ; for, as soon as I
got back to my seat in the Assembly, I was put on
every committee for answering his speeches and
messages, and by the committees always desired to
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
make" the drafts. Our answers, as well as his mes
sages, were often tart, and sometimes indecently
abusive ; and, as he knew I wrote for the Assembly,
one might have imagined that, when we met, we
could hardly avoid cutting throats ; but he was so
good-natur'd a man that no personal difference be
tween him and me was occasion'd by the contest,
and we often din'd together.
One afternoon, in the height of this pubhc quar
rel, we met in the street. " Frankhn," says he,
" you must go home with me and spend the even
ing; I am to have some company that you will
like " ; and, taking me by the arm, he led me to his
house. In gay conversation over our wine, after
supper, he told us, jokingly, that he much admir'd
the idea of Sancho Panza, who, when it was pro
posed to give him a government, requested it might
be a government of blacks, as then, if he could not
agree with his people, he might sell them. One of
his friends, who sat next to me, says, " Franklin,
why do you continue to side with these damn'd
Quakers ? Had not you better sell them ^ The
proprietor would give you a good price." " The
governor," says I, " has not yet blacked them
enough." He, indeed, had labored hard to blacken
tiie Assembly in all his messages, but they wip'd
off his coloring as fast as he laid it on, and plac'd
it, in return, thick upon his own face ; so that, find
ing he was likely to be negrofied himself, he, as
well as Mr Hamilton, grew tir'd of the contest, and
quitted the government.
^ These public quarrels were all at bottom owing
to the proprietaries, our hereditary governors, who,
when any expense was to be incurred for the de
fense of their province, with incredible meanness
instructed their deputies to pass no act for levying
the necessary taxes, unless their vast estates were
1 My acts in Morris's time, military, etc. — [Marg. note."]
^59

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
in the same act expressly excused; and they had
even taken bonds of these deputies to observe
such instructions. The Assemblies for three years
held out against this injustice, tho' constrained to
bend at last. At length Captain Denny, who was
Governor Morris's successor, ventured to disobey
those instructions ; how that was brought about I
shall show hereafter.
But I am got forward too fast with my story:
there are still some transactions to be mention'd that
happened during the administration of Governor
Morris. War being in a manner commenced with France,
the government of Massachusetts Bay projected an
attack upon Crown Point, and sent Mr Quincy to
Pennsylvania, and Mr Pownall, afterward Governor
Pownall, to New York, to solicit assistance. As I
was in the Assembly, knew its temper, and was Mr
Quincy's countryman, he appli'd to me for my in
fluence and assistance. I dictated his address to
them, which was well receiv'd. They voted an aid
of ten thousand pounds, to be laid out in provisions.
But the governor refusing his assent to their bill
(which included this with other sums granted for
the use of the crown), unless a clause were inserted
exempting the proprietary estate from bearing any
part of the tax that would be necessary, the Assem
bly, tho' very desirous of making their grant to New
England effectual, were at a loss how to accomplish
it. Mr Quincy labored hard with the governor to
obtain his assent, but he was obstinate.
I then suggested a method of doing the business
without the governor, by orders on the trustees of
the Loan Office, which, by law, the Assembly had
the right of drawing. There was, indeed, little or
no money at that time in the office, and therefore I
propos'd that the orders should be payable in a year,
and to bear an interest of five per cent. With these
1 60

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
orders I suppos'd the provisions might easily be
purchas'd. The Assembly, with very little hesita
tion, adopted the proposal. The orders were im
mediately printed, and I was one of the committee
directed to sign and dispose of them. The fund
for paying them was the interest of all the paper
currency then extant in the province upon loan, to
gether with the revenue arising from the excise,
which being known to be more than sufficient, they
obtain'd instant credit, and were not only receiv'd
in payment for the provisions, but many money'd
people, who had cash lying by them, vested it in
those orders, which they found advantageous, as
they bore interest while upon hand, and might on
any occasion be used as money ; so that they were
eagerly all bought up, and in a few weeks none of
them were to be seen. Thus this important affair
was by my means compleated. Mr Quincy re
turn'd thanks to the Assembly in a handsome
memorial, went home highly pleas'd with the success
of his embassy, and ever after bore for me the most
cordial and affectionate friendship.
The British government, not chusing to permit
the union of the colonies as propos'd at Albany, and
to trust that union with their defense, lest they
should thereby grow too military, and feel their
own strength, suspicions and jealousies at this time
being entertain'd of them, sent over General Brad-
dock with two regiments of regular English troops
for that purpose. He landed at Alexandria, in
Virginia, and thence march'd to Frederictown, in
Maryland, where he halted for carriages. Our
Assembly apprehending, from some information,
that he had conceived violent prejudices against
them, as averse to the service, wish'd me to wait
upon him, not as from them, but as postmaster-
general, under the guise of proposing to settle with
him the mode of conducting with most celerity and
L i6i

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
certainty the despatches between him and the
governors of the several provinces, with whom he
must necessarily have continual correspondence, and
of which they propos'd to pay the expense. My
son accompanied me on this journey.
We found the general at Frederictown, waiting
impatientiy for the return of those he had sent thro'
the back parts of Maryland and Virginia to coUect
waggons. I stayed with him several days, din'd
with him daily, and had full opportunity of remov
ing all his prejudices, by the information of what
the Assembly had before his arrival actually done,
and were still wHUng to do, to facilitate his opera
tions. When I was about to depart, the returns of
waggons to be obtained were brought in, by which
it appear'd that they amounted only to twenty-five,
and not all of those were in serviceable condition.
The general and all the officers were surpris'd,
declar'd the expedition was then at an end, being
impossible, and exclaim'd against the ministers for
ignorantly landing them in a country destitute of the
means of conveying their stores, baggage, etc., not
less than one hundred and fifty waggons being
necessary. I happen'd to say I thought it was pity they had
not been landed rather in Pennsylvania, as in that
country almost every farmer had his waggon. The
general eagerly laid hold of my words, and said,
" Then you, sir, who are a man of interest there,
can probably procure them for us ; and I beg you
wiU undertake it." I ask'd what terms were to be
offer'd the owners of the waggons ; and I was
desir'd to put on paper the terms that appeared to
me necessary. This I did, and they were agreed
to, and a commission and instructions accordingly
prepar'd immediately. What those terms were will
appear in the advertisement I pubUsh'd as soon as
I arriv'd at Lancaster, which being, from the great
162

HIS AL-TOBIOGRAPHY'
and sudden effect it produc'd, a piece of some
curiosity, I shall insert it at length, as follows :
" Advertisemext.
••l^AscAsms., April i6, 1755.
' ' Whereas, one hundred and fifty waggons, with
four horses to each waggon, and fifteen hundred
saddle or pack horses, are wanted for the service of
his majesty's forces now about to rendezvous at
Will's Creek, and his excellency General Braddock
having been pleased to empower me to contract for
the hire of the same, I hereby give notice that I
shall attend for that purpose at Lancaster from this
day to next Wednesday evening, and at York from
next Thursday morning till Friday evening, where
I shall be ready to agree for -waggons and teams, or
single horses, on the following terms, viz. : I. That
there shall be paid for each waggon, -with four good
horses and a driver, fifteen shillings per diem ; and
for each able horse -with a pack-saddle, or other
saddle and furniture, two shillings per diem ; and
for each able horse -without a saddle, eighteen pence
per diem. z. That the pay commence from the
time of their joining the forces at Wiil's Creek,
which must be on or before the 2Cth of May ensu
ing, and that a reasonable allowance be paid over
and above for the time necessary for their traveUing
to Will's Creek and home again after their discharge.
3. Each waggon and team, and every saddle or
pack horse, is to be valued by indifferent persons
chosen between me and the owner ; and in case of
the loss of any waggon, team, or other horse in the
service, the price according to such valuation is to
be allowed and paid. 4. Seven days' pay is to be
advanced and paid in hand by me to the o-wner of
each waggon and team, or horse, at the time of con
tracting, if required, and the remainder to be paid by
163

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
General Braddock, or by the paymaster of the army,
at the time of their discharge, or from time to time,
as it shall be demanded. 5. No drivers of waggons,
or persons taking care of the hired horses, are on
any account to be called upon to do the duty of
soldiers, or be otherwise employed than in con
ducting or taking care of their carriages or horses.
6. All oats, Indian corn, or other forage that
waggons or horses bring to the camp, more than is
necessary for the subsistence of the horses, is to be
taken for the use of the army, and a reasonable
price paid for the same.
" Note. — My son, William Franklin, is em
powered to enter into like contracts with any person
in Cumberland county. B. Franklin."
" To the inhabitants of the Counties of Lancaster,
York and Cumberland.
' ' Friends and Countrymen,
" Being occasionally at the camp at Frederic a
few days since, I found the general and officers ex
tremely exasperated on account of their not being
supplied with horses and carriages, which had been
expected from this province, as most able to furnish
them ; but, through the dissensions between our
governor and Assembly, money had not been pro
vided, nor any steps taken for that purpose.
"It was proposed to send an armed force im
mediately into these counties, to seize as many of
the best carriages and horses as should be wanted,
and compel as many persons into the service as
would be necessary to drive and take care of them.
" I apprehended that the progress of British
soldiers through these counties on such an occasion,
especially considering the temper they are in, and
their resentment against us, would be attended with
many and great inconveniences to the inhabitants,
164

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
and therefore more willingly took the trouble of
trying first what might be done by fair and equitable
means. The people of these back counties have
lately complained to the Assembly that a sufficient
currency was wanting ; you have an opportunity of
receiving and dividing among yon a very consider
able sum ; for, if the service of this expedition
should continue, as it is more than probable it will,
for one hundred and twenty days, the hire of theste
waggons and horses will amount to upward of thirty
thousand pounds, which wiU be paid you in silver
and gold of the king's money.
" The service -will be hght and easy, for the army
will scarce march above twelve miles per day, and
the waggons and baggage-horses, as they carry those
things that are absolutely necessary to the welfare
of the army, must march -with the army, and no
faster ; and are, for the army's sake, always placed
where they can be most secure, whether in a march
or in a camp.
" If you are really, as I beheve you are, good
and loyal subjects to his majesty, you may now do
a most acceptable service, and make it easy to your
selves ; for three or four of such as can not separately
spare from the business of their plantations a waggon
and four horses and a driver, may do it together,
one furnishing the waggon, another one or two
horses, and another the driver, and divide the pay
proportionably between you ; but if you do not
this service to your king and country voluntarily,
when such good pay and reasonable terms are
offered to you, your loyalty wiU be strongly sus
pected. The king's business must be done ; so
many brave troops, come so far for your defense,
must not stand idle through your backwardness to
do what may be reasonably expected from you ;
waggons and horses must be had ; violent measures
wiU probably be used, and you wiU be left to seek
165

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
for a recompense where you can find it, and your
case, perhaps, be little pitied or regarded.
" I have no particular interest in this affair, as,
except the satisfaction of endeavoring to do good,
I shaU have only my labour for my pains. If this
method of obtaining the waggons and horses is not
likely to succeed, I am obliged to send word to the
general in fourteen days ; and I suppose Sir John
St Clair, the hussar, with a body of soldiers, will
immediately enter the province for the purpose,
which I shall be sorry to hear, because I am very
sincerely and truly your friend and well-wisher,
" B. Franklin."
I received of the general about eight hundred
pounds, to be disbursed in advance-money to the
waggon owners, etc. ; but that sum being insuffi
cient, I advanc'd upward of two hundred pounds
more, and in two weeks the one hundred and fifty
waggons, with two hundred and fifty-nine carrying
horses, were on their march for the camp. The
advertisement promised payment according to the
valuation, in case any waggon or horse should be
lost. The owners, however, aUeging they did not
know General Braddock, or what dependence might
be had on his promise, insisted on my bond for the
performance, which I accordingly gave them.
While I was at the camp, supping one evening
with the officers of Colonel Dunbar's regiment, he
represented to me his concern for the subalterns,
who, he said, were generally not in affiuence, and
could ill afford, in this dear country, to lay in the
stores that might be necessary in so long a march,
thro' a wilderness, where nothing was to be pur
chas'd. I commiserated their case, and resolved
to endeavor procuring them some relief. I said
nothing, however, to him of my intention, but wrote
the next morning to the committee of the Assembly,
i66

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
who had the disposition of some public money,
warmly recommending the case of these officers to
their consideration, and proposing that a present
should be sent them of necessaries and refreshments.
My son, who had some experience of a camp life,
and of its wants, drew up a list for me, which
I endos'd in my letter. The committee approv'd,
and used such diligence that, conducted by my son,
the stores arrived at the camp as soon as the
waggons. They consisted of twenty parcels, each
containing 6 lbs. loaf sugar. i Gloucester cheese.
6 lbs. good Muscovado do, i kegg containing 20 lbs. good
I lb. good green tea. butter.
I lb. good bohea do. 2 doz. old Madeira wine.
6 lbs. good ground coffee. i gallons Jamaica spirits.
6 lbs. chocolate. i bottle flour of mustard
1-2 cwt. best white biscuit, 2 well-cur'd hams.
1-2 lb. pepper. 1-2 dozen dry'd tongues.
I quart best white wine 6 lbs. rice.
vinegar. 6 lbs. raisins.
These twenty parcels, well pack'd, were placed
on as many horses, each parcel, with the horse,
being intended as a present for one officer. They
were very thankfully receiv'd, and the kindness
acknowledg'd by letters to me from the colonels of
both regiments, in the most grateful terms. The
general, too, was highly satisfied with my conduct in
procuring him the waggons, etc., and readily paid
my account of disbursements, thanking me repeatedly,
and requesting my farther assistance in sending pro
visions after him. I undertook this also, and was
busily employ'd in it till we heard of his defeat,
advancing for the service of my own money, upwards
of one thousand pounds sterling, of which I sent
him an account. It came to his hands, luckUy for
me, a few days before the battle, and he return'd me
immediately an order on the paymaster for the round
sum of one thousand pounds, leaving the remainder
167

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
to the next account. I consider this payment as
good luck, having never been able to obtain that
remainder, of which more hereafter.
This general was, I think, a brave man, and might
probably have made a figure as a good officer in
some European war. But he had too much self-
confidence, too high an opinion of the validity of
regular troops, and too mean a one of both Americans
and Indians. George Croghan, our Indian inter
preter, join'd him on his march with one hundred of
those people, who might have been of great use to
his army as guides, scouts, etc., if he had treated
them kindly ; but he slighted and neglected them,
and they gradually left him.
In conversation with him one day, he was giving
me some account of his intended progress. " After
taking Fort Duquesne," says he, " I am to proceed
to Niagara ; and, having taken that, to Frontenac, if
the season will allow time ; and I suppose it will, for
Duquesne can hardly detain me above three or four
days ; and then I see nothing that can obstruct my
march to Niagara." Having before revolv'd in my
mind the long line his army must make in their
march by a very narrow road, to be cut for them
thro' the woods and bushes, and also what I had
read of a former defeat of fifteen hundred French,
who invaded the Iroquois country, I had conceiv'd
some doubts and some fears for the event of the
campaign. But I ventur'd only to say, "To be
sure, sir, if you arrive well before Duquesne, with
these fine troops, so well provided with artillery,
that place not yet completely fortified, and as we
hear with no very strong garrison, can probably
make but a short resistance. The only danger I
apprehend of obstruction to your march is from
ambuscades of Indians, who, by constant practice,
are dexterous in laying and executing them ; and the
slender line, near four miles long, which your army
1 68

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
must make, may expose it to be attack'd by surprise
in its flanks, and to be cut like a thread into several
pieces, which, from their distance, can not come up
in time to support each other."
He smil'd at my ignorance, and reply'd, "These
savages may, indeed, be a formidable enemy to your
raw American militia, but upon the king's regular
and disciphn'd troops, sir, it is impossible they
should make any impression." I was conscious of an
impropriety in my disputing with a military man in
matters of his profession, and said no more. The
enemy, however, did not take the advantage of his
army which I apprehended its long line of march
expos'd it to, but let it advance without interruption
till within nine mUes of the place ; and then, when
more in a body (for it had just passed a river, where
the front had halted till ^U were come over), and in
a more open part of the woods than any it had pass'd,
attack'd its advanced guard by a heavy fire from
behind trees and bushes, which was the first intel
ligence the general had of an enemy's being near
him. This guard being disordered, the general
hurried the troops up to their assistance, which was
done in great confusion, thro' waggons, baggage,
and cattle ; and presently the fire came upon their
flank : the officers, being on horseback, were more
easily distinguish'd, pick'd out as marks, and fell
very fast ; and the soldiers were crowded together
in a huddle, having or hearing no orders, and stand
ing to be shot at till two-thirds of them were killed ;
and then, being seiz'd with a panick, the whole fled
with precipitation.
The waggoners took each a horse out of his team
and scamper'd ; their example was immediately fol
lowed by others ; so that all the waggons, provisions,
artillery, and stores were left to the enemy. The
general, being wounded, was brought off with diffi
culty ; his secretary, Mr Shirley, was kiUed by his
169

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
side ; and out of eighty-six officers, sixty-three were
killed or wounded, and seven hundred and fourteen
men killed out of eleven hundred. These eleven
hundred had been picked men from the whole army ;
the rest had been left behind with Colonel Dunbar,
who was to follow with the heavier part of the
stores, provisions, and baggage. The flyers, not
being pursu'd, arriv'd at Dunbar's camp, and the
panick they brought with them instantly seiz'd him
and all his people ; and, tho' he had now above one
thousand men, and the enemy who had beaten
Braddock did not at most exceed four hundred
Indians and French together, instead of proceeding,
and endeavoring to recover some of the lost honour,
he ordered all the stores, ammunition, etc., to be
destroy'd, that he might have more horses to assist
his flight towards the settlements, and less lumber to
remove. He was there met with requests from the
governors of Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania,
that he would post his troops on the frontier, so as
to afford some protection to the inhabitants ; but he
continu'd his hasty march thro' all the country, not
thinking himself safe till he arriv'd at Philadelphia,
where the inhabitants could protect him. This
whole transaction gave us Americans the first sus
picion that our exalted ideas of the prowess of
British regulars had not been well founded.
In their first march, too, from their landing till
they got beyond the settlements, they had plundered
and stripped the inhabitants, totally ruining some
poor famihes, besides insulting, abusing, and con
fining the people if they remonstrated. This was
enough to put us out of conceit of such defenders,
if we had really wanted any. How different was
the conduct of our French friends in 1 78 1, who,
during a march thro' the most inhabited part of
our country from Rhode Island to Virginia, near
seven hundred miles, occasioned not the smallest
170

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
complaint for the loss of a pig, a chicken, or
even an apple.
Captain Orme, who was one of the general's
aids-de-camp, and, being grievously wounded, was
brought off with him, and continu'd with him to
his death, which happen'd in a few days, told
me that he was totaUy silent all the first day,
and at night only said, " Who would have thought
itV That he was silent again the following
day, saying only at last, " We shall better know
how to deal with them another time" ; and dy'd in
a few minutes after.
The secretary's papers, with all the general's
orders, instructions, and correspondence, falhng
into the enemy's hands, they selected and trans
lated into French a number of the articles, which
they printed, to prove the hostile intentions of
the British court before the declaration of war.
Among these I saw some letters of the general
to the ministry, speaking highly of the great
service I had rendered the army, and recom
mending me to their notice. David Hume, too,
who was some years after secretary to Lord
Hertford, when minister in France, and afterward
to General Conway, when secretary of state, told
me he had seen among the papers in that office,
letters from Braddock highly recommending me.
But, the expedition having been unfortunate, my
service, it seems, was not thought of much value,
for those recommendations were never of any use
to me.
As to rewards from himself, I ask'd only one,
which was, that he would give orders to his officers
not to enhst any more of our bought servants, and
that he would discharge such as had been already
enlisted. This he readily granted, and several were
accordingly return'd to their masters, on my applica
tion. Dunbar, when the command devolv'd on him,
171

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
was not so generous. He being at PhUadelphia, on
his retreat, or rather flight, I apply'd to him for the
discharge of the servants of three poor farmers of
Lancaster county that he had enUsted, reminding him
of the late general's orders on that head. He promised
me that, if the masters would come to him at Trenton,
where he should be in a few days on his march to
New York, he would there dehver their men to
them. They accordingly were at the expense and
trouble of going to Trenton, and there he refus'd
to perform his promise, to their great loss and
disappointment. As soon as the loss of the waggons and horses
was generally known, all the owners came upon me
for the valuation which I had given bond to pay.
Their demands gave me a great deal of trouble,
my acquainting them that the money was ready in
the paymaster's hands, but that orders for paying it
must first be obtained from General Shirley, and
my assuring them that I had apply'd to that general
by letter; but, he being at a distance, an answer
could not soon be receiv'd, and they must have
patience, aU this was not sufficient to satisfy, and
some began to sue me. General Shirley at
length relieved me from this terrible situation by
appointing commissioners to examine the claims,
and ordering payment. They amounted to near
twenty thousand pound, which to pay would
have ruined me.
Before we had the news of this defeat, the two
Doctors Bond came to me with a subscription
paper for raising money to defray the expense of
a grand firework, which it was intended to exhibit
at a rejoicing on receipt of the news of our taking
Fort Duquesne. I looked grave, and said it would,
I thought, be time enough to prepare for the re
joicing when we knew we should have occasion to
rejoice. They seem'd surpris'd that I did not
172

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
immediately comply with their proposal. " Why
the d — 1!" says one of them, "you surely don't
suppose that the fort will not be taken ? " "I
don't know that it will not be taken, but I know
that the events of war are subject to great un
certainty." I gave them the reasons of my doubt
ing ; the subscription was dropt, and the projectors
thereby missed the mortification they would have
undergone if the firework had been prepared. Dr
Bond, on some other occasion afterward, said that
he did not like Franklin's forebodings.
Governor Morris, who had continually worried
the Assembly with message after message before
the defeat of Braddock, to beat them into the
making of acts to raise money for the defense
of the province, without taxing, among others,
the proprietary estates, and had rejected all their
bills for not having such an exempting clause,
now redoubled his attacks with more hope of
success, the danger and necessity being greater.
The Assembly, however, continu'd firm, believing
they had justice on their side, and that it would
be giving up an essential right if they suffered
the governor to amend their money-bills. In one
of the last, indeed, which was for granting fifty
thousand pounds, his propos'd amendment was only
of a single word. The bill express'd " that all
estates, real and personal, were to be taxed, those
of the proprietaries not excepted." His amendment
was, for not read only: a small, but very material
alteration. However, when the news of this disaster
reached England, our friends there, whom we had
taken care to furnish with all the Assembly's answers
to the governor's messages, rais'd a clamor against
the proprietaries for their meanness and injustice in
giving their governor such instructions ; some going
so far as to say that, by obstructing the defense of
their province, they forfeited their right to it. They
173

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
were intimidated by this, and sent orders to their
receiver - general to add five thousand pounds of
their money to whatever sum might be given by the
Assembly for such purpose.
This, being notified to the House, was accepted
in lieu of their share of a general tax, and a new
bill was form'd, with an exempting clause, which
passed accordingly. By this act I was appointed
one of the commissioners for disposing of the money,
sixty thousand pounds. I had been active in model-
hng the bill and procuring its passage, and had,
at the same time, drawn a bill for establishing and
disciplining a voluntary militia, which I carried thro'
the House without much difficulty, as care was taken
in it to leave the Quakers at their liberty. To pro
mote the association necessary to form the militia, I
wrote a dialogue,^ stating and answering all the
objections I could think of to such a militia,
which was printed, and had, as I thought, great
effect. While the several companies in the dty and
country were forming, and learning their exercise,
the governor prevail'd with me to take charge of
our North-western frontier, which was infested by
the enemy, and provide for the defense of the in
habitants by raising troops and building a line of
forts. I undertook this military business, tho' I
did not conceive myself well quahfied for it. He
gave me a commission with full powers, and a
parcel of blank commissions for officers, to be
given to whom I thought fit. I had but little
difficulty in raising men, having soon five hundred
and sixty under my command. My son, who had
in the preceding war been an officer in the army
rais'd against Canada, was my aid-de-camp, and of
great use to me. The Indians had burned Gnaden-
' This dialogue and the militia act are in the Gentleman's
Magazine for February and March, 1756. — [Marg. note.']
174

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
hut, a viUage settied by the Moravians, and massacred
the inhabitants ; but the place was thought a good
situation for one of the forts.
In order to march thither, I assembled the com
panies at Bethlehem, the chief establishment of those
people. I was surprised to find it in so good a pos
ture of defense ; the destruction of Gnadenhut had
made them apprehend danger. The principal build
ings were defended by a stockade ; they had pur
chased a quantity of arms and ammunition from
New York, and had even plac'd quantities of small
paving stones between the windows of their high
stone houses, for their women to throw down upon
the heads of any Indians that should attempt to force
into them. The armed brethren, too, kept watch,
and rehev'd as methodically as in any garrison town.
In conversation with the bishop, Spangenberg, I
mention'd this my surprise ; for, knowing they had
obtained an act of Parliament exempting them from
military duties in the colonies, I had suppos'd they
were conscientiously scrupulous of bearing arms.
He answer'd me that it was not one of their es
tablished principles, but that, at the time of their
obtaining that act, it was thought to be a principle
with many of their people. On this occasion, how
ever, they, to their surprise, found it adopted by but
a few. It seems they were either deceiv'd in them
selves, or decei'v'd the Parliament ; but common
sense, aided by present danger, will sometimes be
too strong for whimsical opinions.
It was the beginning of January when we set out
upon this business of building forts. I sent one de
tachment toward the Minisink, with instructions to
erect one for the security of that upper part of the
country, and another to the lower part, with similar
instructions ; and I concluded to go myself with the
rest of my force to Gnadenhut, where a fort was
tho't more immediately necessary. The Moravians
175

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
procur'd me five waggons for our tools, stores,
baggage, etc.
Just before we left Bethlehem, eleven farmers,
who had been driven from their plantations by the
Indians, came to me requesting a supply of firearms,
that they might go back and fetch off their cattie.
I gave them each a gun with suitable ammunition.
We had not march'd many miles before it began to
rain, and it continued raining all day ; there were no
habitations on the road to shelter us, till we arriv'd
near night at the house of a German, where, and in his
barn, we were all huddled together, as wet as water
could make us. It was well we were not attack'd in
our march, for our arms were of the most ordinary
sort, and our men could not keep their gun locks
dry. The Indians are dextrous in contrivances for
that purpose, which we had not. They met that day
the eleven poor farmers above mentioned, and killed
ten of them. The one who escap'd inform'd that
his and his companions' guns would not go off, the
priming being wet with- the rain.
The next day being fair, we continu'd our march,
and arriv'd at the desolated Gnadenhut. There was
a saw-mill near, round which were left several piles
of boards, with which we soon hutted ourselves ; an
operation the more necessary at that inclement season,
as we had no tents. Our first work was to bury
more effectually the dead we found there, who had
been half interr'd by the country people.
The next morning our fort was plann'd and mark'd
out, the circumference measuring four hundred and
fifty-five feet, which would require as many palisades
to be made of trees, one with another, of a foot
diameter each. Our axes, of which we had seventy,
were immediately set to work to cut down trees,
and, our men being dextrous in the use of them,
great despatch was made. Seeing the trees fall so
fast, I had the curiosity to look at my watch when
176

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
two men began to cut at a pine ; in six minutes they
had it upon the ground, and I found it of fourteen
inches diameter. Each pine made three palisades
of eighteen feet long, pointed at one end. While
these were preparing, our other men dug a trench
all round, of three feet deep, in which the palisades
were to be planted ; and, our waggons, the bodys
being taken off, and the fore and hind wheels sepa
rated by taking out the pin which united the two
parts of the perch, we had ten carriages, with two
horses each, to bring the palisades from the woods
to the spot. When they were set up, our carpen
ters built a stage of boards all round within, about
six feet high, for the men to stand on when to fire
thro' the loopholes. We had one swivel gun, which
we mounted on one of the angles, and fir'd it as soon
as fix'd, to let the Indians know, if any were within
hearing, that we had such pieces ; and thus our fort,
if such a magnificent name may be given to so
miserable a stockade, was finish'd in a week, though
it rain'd so hard every other day that the men could
not work.
This gave me occasion to observe, that, when
men arp employ'd, they are best content'd ; for on
the days they worked they were good-natur'd and
cheerful, and, with the consciousness of having done
a good day's work, they spent the evening joUily ;
but on our idle days they were mutinous and quar
relsome, finding fault with their pork, the bread,
etc., and in continual ill-humor, which put me in
mind of a sea-captain, whose rule it was to keep his
men constantly at work ; and, when his mate once
told him that they had done every thing, and there
was nothing further to employ them about, " Oh"
says he, " make them scour the anchor"
This kind of fort, however contemptible, is a
sufficient defense against Indians, who have no
cannon. Finding ourselves now posted securely,
M 177

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
and having a place to retreat to on occasion, we
ventur'd out in parties to scour the adjacent country.
We met with no Indians, but we found the places
on the neighboring hills -where they had lain to
watch our proceedings. There was an art in their
contrivance of those places that seems worth mention.
It being winter, a fire was necessary for them ; but
a common fire on the surface of the ground would
by its light have discover'd their position at a dis
tance. They had therefore dug holes in the ground
about three feet diameter, and somewhat deeper ;
we saw where they had with their hatchets cut off
the charcoal from the sides of burnt logs lying in
the woods. With these coals they had made small
fires in the bottom of the holes, and we observ'd
among the weeds and grass the prints of their bodies,
made by their laying all round, with their legs hanging
down in the holes to keep their feet warm, which,
with them, is an essential point. This kind of fire,
so manag'd, could not discover them, either by its
light, flame, sparks, or even smoke : it appear'd that
their number was not great, and it seems they saw
we were too many to be attacked by them with
prospect of advantage.
We had for our chaplain a zealous Presbyterian
minister, Mr Beatty, who complained to me that
the men did not generally attend his prayers and
exhortations. When they enlisted, they were pro
mised, besides pay and provisions, a gill of rum a
day, which was punctuaUy serv'd out to them, half
in the morning, and the other half in the evening ;
and I observ'd they were as punctual in attending to
receive it ; upon which I said to Mr Beatty, " It is,
perhaps, below the dignity of your profession to act
as steward of the rum, but if you were to deal it out
and only just after prayers, you would have them
all about you." He liked the tho't, undertook the
office, and, with the help of a few hands to measure
178

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
out the liquor, executed it to satisfaction, and never
were prayers more generally and more punctually
attended ; so that I thought this method preferable
to the punishment inflicted by some military laws for
non-attendance on divine service.
I had hardly finish'd this business, and got my
fort well stor'd with provisions, when I receiv'd a
letter from the governor, acquainting me that he had
caU'd the Assembly, and wished my attendance
there, if the posture of affairs on the frontiers was
such that my remaining there was no longer neces
sary. My friends, too, of the Assembly, pressing
me by their letters to be, if possible, at the meeting,
and my three intended forts being now compleated,
and the inhabitants contented to remain on their
farms under that protection, I resolved to" return ;
the more willingly, as a New England officer,
Colonel Clapham, experienced in Indian war, being
on a visit to our estabhshment, consented to accept
the command. I gave him a commission, and, parad
ing the garrison, had it read before them, and intro
duc'd him to them as an officer who, from his skill
in military affairs, was much more fit to command
them than myself; and, giving them a little exhor
tation, took my leave. I was escorted as far as
Bethlehem, where I rested a few days to recover
from the fatigue I had undergone. The first night,
being in a good bed, I could hardly sleep, it was so
different from my hard lodging on the floor of our
hut at Gnaden wrapt only in a blanket or two.
While at Bethlehem, I inquir'd a little into the
practice of the Moravians : some of them had
accompanied me, and all were very kind to me. I
found they work'd for a common stock, eat at
common tables, and slept in common dormitories,
great numbers together. In the dormitories I ob
served loopholes, at certain distances all along just
under the ceiling, which I thought judiciously placed
179

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
for change of air. I was at their church, where I
was entertain'd with good musick, the organ being
accompanied with violins, hautboys, flutes, clarinets,
etc. I understood that their sermons were not
usually preached to mixed congregations of men,
women, and children, as is our common practice, but
that they assembled sometimes the married men,
at other times their wives, then the young men, the
young women, and the little children, each division
by itself. The sermon I heard was to the latter,
who came in and were plac'd in rows on benches ;
the boys under the conduct of a young man, their
tutor, and the girls conducted by a young woman.
The discourse seem'd well adapted to their capacities,
and was deliver'd in a pleasing, familiar manner,
coaxing them, as it were, to be good. They
behav'd very orderly, but looked pale and unhealthy,
which made me suspect they were kept too much
within doors, or not allow'd sufficient exercise.
I inquir'd concerning the Moravian marriages,
whether the report was true that they were by lot.
I was told that lots were us'd only in particular
cases ; that generally, when a young man found
himself dispos'd to marry, he inform'd the elders
of his class, who consulted the elder ladies that
govern'd the young women. As these elders of the
different sexes were well acquainted with the tem
pers and dispositions of their respective pupils, they
could best judge what matches were suitable, and
their judgments were generally acquiesc'd in ; but
if, for example, it should happen that two or three
young women were found to be equally proper for
the young man, the lot was then recurred to. I
objected, if the matches are not made by the mutual
choice of the parties, some of them may chance to
be very unhappy. " And so they may," answer'd
my informer, " if you let the parties chuse for them
selves ; " which, indeed, I could not deny.
1 80

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Being returned to Philadelphia, I found the asso
ciation went on swimmingly, the inhabitants that
were not Quakers having pretty generally come into
it, formed themselves into companies, and chose
their captains, lieutenants, and ensigns, according
to the new law. Dr B. visited me, and gave me
an account of the pains he had taken to spread a
general good liking to the law, and ascribed much to
those endeavors. I had had the vanity to ascribe
all to my Dialogue; however, not knowing but that
he might be in the right, I let him enjoy his opinion,
which I take to be generally the best way in such
cases. The officers, meeting, chose me to be colonel
of the regiment, which I this time accepted. I for
get how many companies we had, but we paraded
about twelve hundred weU-looking men, with a
company of artillery, who had been furnished with
six brass field-pieces, which they had become so
expert in the use of as to fire twelve times in a
minute. The first time I reviewed my regiment
they accompanied me to my house, and would salute
me with some rounds fired before my door, which
shook down and broke several glasses of my elec
trical apparatus. And my new honour proved not
much less brittle ; for all our commissions were soon
after broken by a repeal of the law in England.
During this short time of my colonelship, being
about to set out on a journey to Virginia, the officers
of my regiment took it into their heads that it would
be proper for them to escort me out of town, as far
as the Lower Ferry. Just as I was getting on horse
back they came to my door, between thirty and
forty, mounted, and all in their uniforms. I had
not been previously acquainted with the project, or
I should have prevented it, being naturally averse
to the assuming of state on any occasion ; and I was
a good deal chagrin'd at their appearance, as I
could not avoid their accompanying me. What
l8i

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
made it worse was, that, as soon as we began to
move, they drew their swords and rode with them
naked all the way. Somebody wrote an account
of this to the proprietor, and it gave him great
offense. No such honor had been paid him when
in the province, nor to any of his governors ; and
he said it was only proper to princes of the blood
royal, which may be true for aught I know, who
was, and still am, ignorant of the etiquette in such
cases. This silly affair, however, greatly increased his
rancour against me, which was before not a little,
on account of my conduct in the Assembly respect
ing the exemption of his estate from taxation, which
I had always oppos'd very warmly, and not with
out severe reflections on his meanness and injustice
of contending for it. He accused me to the minis
try as being the great obstacle to the king's service,
preventing, by my influence in the House, the proper
form of the bills for raising money, and he instanced
this parade with my officers as a proof of my having
an intention to take the government of the province
out of his hands by force. He also apphed to Sir
Everard Fawkener, the postmaster-general, to de
prive me of my office ; but it had no other effect
than to procure from Sir Everard a gentle ad
monition. Notwithstanding the continual wrangle between
the governor and the House, in which I, as a mem
ber, had so large a share, there still subsisted a civil
intercourse between that gentleman and myself, and
we never had any personal difference. I have some
times since thought that his little or no resentment
against me, for the answers it was known I drew up
to his messages, might be the effect of professional
habit, and that, being bred a lawyer, he might con
sider us both as merely advocates for contending
clients in a suit, he for the proprietaries and I for
182

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
the Assembly. He would, therefore, sometimes call
in a friendly way to advise with me on difficult
points, and sometimes, tho' not often, take my
advice. We acted in concert to supply Braddock's army
with provisions ; and, when the shocking news
arrived of his defeat, the governor sent in haste for
me, to consult with him on measures for preventing
the desertion of the back counties. I forget now
the advice I gave ; but I think it was, that Dunbar
should be written to, and prevail'd with, if possible,
to post his troops on the frontiers for their protec
tion, tUl, by re-enforcements from the colonies, he
might be able to proceed on the expedition. And,
after my return from the frontier, he would have
had me undertake the conduct of such an expedi
tion with provincial troops, for the reduction of Fort
Duquesne, Dunbar and his men being otherwise
employed ; and he proposed to commission me as
general. I had not so good an opinion of my mili
tary abilities as he profess'd to have, and I believe
his professions must have exceeded his real senti
ments ; but probably he might think that my popu
larity would facilitate the raising of the men, and
my influence in Assembly, the grant of money to
pay them, and that, perhaps, without taxing the
proprietary estate. Finding me not so forward to
engage as he expected, the project was dropt, and
he soon after left the government, being superseded
by Captain Denny.
Before I proceed in relating the part I had in
pubhc affairs under this new governor's adminis
tration, it may not be amiss here to give some
account of the rise and progress of my philosophical
reputation. In 1746, being at Boston, I met there with a Dr
Spence, who was lately arrived from Scotland, and
sho'w'd me some electric experiments. They were
183

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
imperfectly perform'd, as he was not very expert ;
but, being on a subject quite new to me, they
equally surpris'd and pleased me. Soon after my
return to Philadelphia, our library company receiv'd
from Mr P. Collinson, Fellow of the Royal Sodety
of London, a present of a glass tube, with some
account of the use of it in making such experiments.
I eagerly seized the opportunity of repeating what I
had seen at Boston ; and, by much practice, acquir'd
great readiness in performing those, also, which we
had an account of from England, adding a number
of new ones. I say much practice, for my house
was continually full, for some time, with people who
came to see these new wonders.
To divide a little this incumbrance among my
friends, I caused a number of similar tubes to be
blown at our glass-house, with which they furnish'd
themselves, so that we had at length several per
formers. Among these, the principal was Mr
Kinnersley, an ingenious neighbor, who, being out
of business, I encouraged to undertake showing the
experiments for money, and drew up for him two
lectures, in which the experiments were rang'd in
such order, and accompanied with such explanations
in such method, as that the foregoing should assist
in comprehending the following. He procur'd an
elegant apparatus for the purpose, in which all the
little machines that I had roughly made for myself
were nicely form'd by instrument-makers. His
lectures were well attended, and gave great satis
faction; and after some time he went thro' the
colonies, exhibiting them in every capital town, and
pick'd up some money. In the West India islands,
indeed, it was with difficulty the experiments could
be made, from the general moisture of the air.
Oblig'd as we were to Mr Collinson for his pre
sent of the tube, etc., I thought it right he should
be inform'd of our success in using it, and wrote
184

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
him several letters containing accounts of our experi
ments. He got them read in the Royal Society,
where they were not at first thought worth so much
notice as to be printed in their Transactions. One
paper, which I wrote for Mr Kinnersley, on the
sameness of lightning with electricity, I sent to Dr
Mitchel, an acquaintance of mine, and one of the
members also of that society, who wrote me word
that it had been read, but was laughed at by the
connoisseurs. The papers, however, being shown
to Dr FothergiU, he thought them of too much
value to be stifled, and advis'd the printing of them.
Mr Collinson then gave them to Cave for publica
tion in his Gentleman's Magazine ; but he chose to
print them separately in a pamphlet, and Dr Fother
giU wrote the preface. Cave, it seems, judged
rightiy for his profit, for by the additions that arrived
afterward they swell'd, to a quarto volume, which
has had five editions, and cost him nothing for
copy-money. It was, however, some time before those papers
were much taken notice of in England. A copy of
them happening to fall into the hands of the Count
de Buffon, a philosopher deservedly of great reputa
tion in France, and, indeed, all over Europe, he
prevailed with M. Dalibard to translate them into
French, and they were printed at Paris. The pub
lication offended the Abbe Nollet, preceptor in
Natural PhUosophy to the royal family, and an
able experimenter, who had form'd and publish'd a
theory of electricity, which then had the general
vogue. He could not at first believe that such a
work came from America, and said it must have
been fabricated by his enemies at Paris, to decry
his system. Afterwards, having been assur'd that
there really existed such a person as Frankhn at
PhUadelphia, which he had doubted, he wrote and
published a volume of Letters, chiefly address'd to
185

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
me, defending his theory, and denying the verity
of my experiments, and of the positions deduc'd
from them.
I once purpos'd answering the abbe, and actually
began the answer; but, on consideration that my
writings contain'd a description of experiments which
any one might repeat and verify, and if not to be
verifi'd, could not be defended ; or of observations
offer'd as conjectures, and not delivered dogmatic
ally, therefore not laying me under any obligation
to defend them ; and reflecting that a dispute between
two persons, writing in different languages, might
be lengthened greatly by mistranslations, and thence
misconceptions of one another's meaning, much of
one of the abbe's letters being founded on an error
in the translation, I concluded to let my papers shift
for themselves, believing it was better to spend
what time I could spare from public business in
making new experiments, than in disputing about
those already made. I therefore never answered
M, Nollet, and the event gave me no cause to repent
my silence ; for my friend M, le Roy, of the Royal
Academy of Sciences, took up my cause and refuted
him ; my book was translated into the Italian,
German, and Latin languages ; and the doctrine it
contain'd was by degrees universally adopted by the
philosophers of Europe, in preference to that of the
abbe ; so that he lived to see himself the last of his
sect, except Monsieur B  , of Paris, his Sieve
and immediate disciple.
What gave my book the more sudden and general
celebrity, was the success of one of its proposed
experiments, made by Messrs Dahbard and De Lor
at Marly, for drawing lightning from the clouds.
This engag'd the pubhc attention every where. M.
de Lor, who had an apparatus for experimental
philosophy, and lectur'd in that branch of science,
undertook to repeat what he called the Philadelphia
1 86

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Experiments ; and, after they were performed before
the king and court, all the curious of Paris flocked
to see them. I will not swell this narrative with an
account of that capital experiment, nor of the infinite
pleasure I receiv'd in the success of a similar one I
made soon after with a kite at Philadelphia, as both
are to be found in the histories of electricity.
Dr Wright, an Enghsh physician, when at Paris,
wrote to a friend, who was of the Royal Society, an
account of the high esteem my experiments were in
among the learned abroad, and of their wonder that
my writings had been so little noticed in England.
The society, on this, resum'd the consideration of
the letters that had been read to them ; and the
celebrated Dr Watson drew up a summary account
of them, and of all I had afterwards sent to England
on the subject, which he accompanied with some
praise of the writer. This summary was then
printed in their Transactions ; and some members of
the sodety in London, particularly the very ingenious
Mr Canton, having verified the experiment of pro
curing lightning from the clouds by a pointed rod,
and acquainting them with the success, they soon
made me more than amends for the slight with
which they had before treated me. Without my
having made any application for that honor, they
chose me a member, and voted that I should be
excus'd the customary payments, which would have
amounted to twenty-five guineas ; and ever since
have given me their Transactions gratis. They also
presented me with the gold medal of Sir Godfrey
Copley for the year 1 75 3, the delivery of which was
accompanied by a very handsome speech of the
president. Lord Macclesfield, wherein I was highly
honoured. Our new governor. Captain Denny, brought over
for me the before-mentioned medal from the Royal
Society, which he presented to me at an entertain-
187

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
ment given him by the city. He accompanied it
with very polite expressions of his esteem for me,
having, as he said, been long acquainted with my
character. After dinner, when the company, as was
customary at that time, were engag'd in drinking,
he took me aside into another rooni, and acquainted
me that he had been advis'd by his friends in
England to cultivate a friendship with me, as one
who was capable of giving him the best advice, and
of contributing most effectually to the making his
administration easy ; that he therefore desired of all
things to have a good understanding with me, and
he begg'd me to be assur'd of his readiness on all
occasions to render me every service that might be
in his power. He said much to me, also, of the
proprietor's good disposition towards the province,
and of the advantage it might be to us all, and to
me in particular, if the opposition that had been
so long continu'd to his measures was dropt, and
harmony restor'd between him and the people ; in
effecting which, it was thought no one could be
more serviceable than myself; and I might depend
on adequate acknowledgments and recompenses,
etc., etc. The drinkers, finding we did not return
immediately to the table, sent us a decanter of
Madeira, which the governor made liberal use of,
and in proportion became more profuse of his
solicitations and promises.
My answers were to this purpose: that my Cir
cumstances, thanks to God, were such as to make
proprietary favours unnecessary to me ; and that,
being a member of the Assembly, I could not
possibly accept of any ; that, however, I had no
personal enmity to the proprietary, and that, when
ever the public measures he propos'd should appear
to be for the good of the people, no one should
espouse and forward them more zealously than
myself ; my past opposition having been founded on

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
this, that the measures which had been urged were
evidently intended to serve the proprietary interest,
with great prejudice to that of the people ; that I
was much obliged to him (the governor) for his
professions of regard to me, and that he might rely
on every thing in my power to make his administra
tion as easy as possible, hoping at the same time
that he had not brought with him the same unfor
tunate instruction his predecessor had been hamper'd
with. On this he did not then explain himself; but
when he afterwards came to do business with the
Assembly, they appear'd again, the disputes were
renewed, and I was as active as ever in the opposi
tion, being the penman, first, of the request to have
a communication of the instructions, and then of the
remarks upon them, which may be found in the
votes of the time, and in the Historical Review I
afterward publish'd. But between us personally
no enmity arose ; we were often together ; he was a
man of letters, had seen much of the world, and was
very entertaining and pleasing in conversation. He
gave me the first information that my old friend
Jas. Ralph was still alive ; that he was esteem'd one
of the best political writers in England ; had been
employ'd in the dispute between Prince Frederic and
the king, and had obtain'd a pension of three hundred
a year ; that his reputation was indeed small as a
poet. Pope having damned his poetry in the
Dunciad ; but his prose was thought as good as any
man's. 1 The Assembly finally finding the proprietary
obstinately persisted in manacling their deputies with
instructions inconsistent not only with the privileges
of the people, but with the service of the crown,
resolv'd to petition the king against them, and
' The many unanimous resolves of the Assembly — what date ? —
[Marg. note.] 189

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
appointed me their agent to go over to England, to
present and support the petition. The House had
sent up a bill to the governor, granting a sum of
sixty thousand pounds for the king's use (ten
thousand pounds of which was subjected to the
orders of the then general. Lord Loudoun), which
the governor absolutely refus'd to pass, in compliance
with his instructions.
I had agreed with Captain Morris, of the paquet
at New York, for my passage, and my stores were
put on board, when Lord Loudoun arriv'd at Phila
delphia, expressly, as he told me, to endeavor an
accommodation between the governor and Assembly,
that his majesty's service might not be obstructed
by their dissensions. Accordingly, he desir'd the
governor and myself to meet him, that he might
hear what was to be said on both sides. We met
and discuss'd the business. In behalf of the
Assembly, I urg'd all the various arguments that
may be found in the public papers of that time,
which were of my writing, and are printed with the
minutes of the Assembly ; and the governor pleaded
his instructions ; the bond he had given to observe
them, and his ruin if he disobey'd, yet seemed not
unwilling to hazard himself if Lord Loudoun would
advise it. This his lordship did not chuse to do,
though I once thought I had nearly prevail'd with
him to do it ; but finally he rather chose to urge the
comphance of the Assembly ; and he entreated me
to use my endeavours with them for that purpose,
declaring that he would spare none of the king's
troops for the defense of our frontiers, and that, if
we did not continue to provide for that defense
ourselves, they must remain expos'd to the enemy.
I acquainted the House with what had pass'd,
and, presenting them with a set of resolutions I had
drawn up, declaring our rights, and that we did
not relinquish our claim to those rights, but only
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HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
suspended the exercise of them on this occasion
thro' force, against which we protested, they at
length agreed to drop that bUl, and frame another
conformable to the proprietary instructions. This
of course the governor pass'd, and I was then at
liberty to proceed on my voyage. But, in the mean
time, the paquet had saUed with my sea-stores,
which was some loss to me, and my only recom
pense was his lordship's thanks for my service, all
the credit of obtaining the accommodation falling to
his share.
He set out for New York before me ; and, as the
time for dispatching the paquet-boats was at his
disposition, and there were two then remaining
there, one of which, he said, was to sail very soon,
I requested to know the precise time, that I might
not miss her by any delay of mine. His answer
was, " I have given out that she is to sail on
Saturday next ; but I may let you know, entre nous,
that if you are there by Monday morning, you will
be in time, but do not delay longer." By some
accidental hinderance at a ferry, it was Monday
noon before I arrived, and I was much afraid she
might have sailed, as the wind was fair ; but I was
soon made easy by the information that she was stUl
in the harbor, and would not move till the next
day. One would imagine that I was now on the
very point of departing for Europe. I thought so ;
but I was not then so well acquainted with his lord
ship's character, of which indecisio-. was one of the
strongest features. I shall give some instances. It
was about the beginning of April that I came to
New York, and I think it was near the end of June
before we sail'd. There were then two of the
paquet-boats, which had been long in port, but were
detained for the general's letters, which were always
to be ready to-morrow. Another paquet arriv'd ;
she too was detain'd ; and, before we sail'd, a fourth
191

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
was expected. Ours was the first to be dispatch'd,
as having been there longest. Passengers -were
engag'd in all, and some extremely impatient to be
gone, and the merchants uneasy about their letters,
and the orders they had given for insurance (it being
war time) for fall goods ; but their anxiety avail'd
nothing ; his lordship's letters were not ready ; and
yet whoever waited on him found him always at
his desk, pen in hand, and concluded he must needs
write abundantly.
Going myself one morning to pay my respects, I
found in his antechamber one Innis, a messenger of
Philadelphia, who had come from thence express with
a paquet from Governor Denny for the General. He
delivered to me some letters from my friends there,
which occasion'd my inquiring when he was to re
turn, and where he lodg'd, that I might send some
letters by him. He told me he was order'd to call
to-morrow at nine for the general's answer to the
governor, and should set off immediately. I put my
letters into his hands the same day. A fortnight
after I met him again in the same place. " So, you
are soon return'd, Innis?" " Return d I no, I am
xiot gone yet." "How so?" "1 have called here
by order every morning these two weeks past for his
lordship's letter, and it is not yet ready." "Is it
possible, when he is so great a writer .? for I see him
constantly at his escritoire." " Yes," says Innis,
" but he is hke St George on the signs, always on
horseback, and never rides on." This observation
of the messenger was, it seems, well founded ; for,
when in England, I understood that Mr Pitt gave
it as one reason for removing this general, and send
ing Generals Amherst and Wolfe, that the minister
never heard from him, and could not know what he was
doing. This daily expectation of saUing, and all the three
paquets going down to Sand Hook, to join the
192

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
fleet there, the passengers thought it best to be on
board, lest by a sudden order the ships should saU,
and they be left behind. There, if I remember right,
we were about six weeks, consuming our sea-stores,
and oblig'd to procure more. At length the fleet
sail'd, the General and all his army on board, bound
to Louisburg, with intent to besiege and take that
fortress ; all the paquet-boats in company ordered to
attend the Generd's ship, ready to receive his dis
patches when they should be ready. We were out
five days before we got a letter with leave to part,
and then our ship quitted the fleet and steered for
England. The other two paquets he still detained,
carried them with him to Halifax, where he stayed
some time to exercise the men in sham attacks upon
sham forts, then alter'd his mind as to besieging Lou
isburg, and return'd to New York, -with all his troops,
together -with the two paquets above mentioned, and
all their passengers 1 During his absence the French
and savages had taken Fort George, on the frontier
of that pro-vince, and the savages had massacred
many of the garrison after capitulation.
I saw afterwards in London Captain Bonnell, who
commanded one of those paquets. He told me that,
when he had been detain'd a month, he acquainted
his lordship that his ship was grown foul, to a de
gree that must necessarUy hinder her fast sailing, a
point of consequence for a paquet-boat, and re
quested an allowance of time to heave her down and
dean her bottom. He was asked how long time
that would require. He answer'd, three days.
The general replied, " If you can do it in one day,
I give leave ; otherwise not ; for you must certainly
saU the day after to-morrow." So he never obtain'd
leave, though detained afterwards from day to day
during fuU three months.
I saw also in London one of Bonnell's passengers,
who was so enrag'd against his lordship for deceiv-
N 193

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
ing and detaining him so long at New York, and
then carrying him to Hahfax and back again, that
he swore he would sue him for damages. Whether
he did or not, I never heard ; but, as he represented
the injury to his affairs, it was very considerable.
On the whole, I wonder'd much how such a
man came to be intrusted with so important a
business as the conduct of a great army; but,
having since seen more of the great world, and
the means of obtaining, and motives for giving
places, my wonder is diminished. General Shirley,
on whom the command of the army devolved upon
the death of Braddock, would, in my opinion, if
continued in place, have made a much better cam
paign than that of Loudoun in 1757, which was
frivolous, expensive, and disgraceful to our nation
beyond conception; for, tho' Shirley was not a
bred soldier, he was sensible and sagacious in him
self, and attentive to good advice from others, cap
able of forming judicious plans, and quick and active
in carrying them into execution. Loudoun, instead
of defending the colonies with his great army, left
them totally expos'd while he paraded idly at Hali
fax, by which means Fort George was lost, besides,
he derang'd all our mercantile operations, and dis
tress'd our trade, by a long embargo on the exporta
tion of provisions, on pretence of keeping supplies
from being obtain'd by the enemy, but in reality for
beating down their price in favor of the contractors,
in whose profits, it was said, perhaps from suspicion
only, he had a share. And, when at length the em
bargo was taken off, by neglecting to send notice
of it to Charlestown, the Carolina fleet was detain'd
near three months longer, whereby their bottoms
were so much damaged by the worm that a great
part of them foundered in their passage home.
Shirley was, I believe, sincerely glad of being
relieved from so burdensome a charge as the conduct
194

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
of an army must be to a man unacquainted with
military business. I was at the entertainment given
by the city of New York to Lord Loudoun, on his
taking upon him the command. Shirley, tho'
thereby superseded, was present also. There was
a great company of officers, citizens, and strangers,
and, some chairs having been borrowed in the
neighborhood, there was one among them very low,
which fell to the lot of Mr Shirley. Perceiving it
as I sat by him, I s^d, "They have given you, sir,
too low a seat." " No matter," says he, " Mr
Frankhn, I find a low seat the easiest."
WhUe I was, as afore mention'd, detain'd at
New York, I receiv'd aU the accounts of the pro
visions, etc., that I had furnish'd to Braddock, some
of which accounts could not sooner be obtain'd from
the different persons I had employ'd to assist in
the business. I presented them to Lord Loudoun,
desiring to be paid the ballance. He caus'd them
to be regularly examined by the proper officer, who,
after comparing every article with its voucher, cer
tified them to be right ; and the balance due for
which his lordship promis'd to give me an order on
the paymaster. This was, however, put off from
time to time ; and, tho' I call'd often for it by
appointment, I did not get it. At length, just be
fore my departure, he told me he had, on better
consideration, conduded not to mix his accounts
with those of his predecessors. " And you," says
he, " when in England, have only to exhibit your
accounts at the treasury, and you will be paid
immediately." I mention'd, but without effect, the great and unex
pected expense I had been put to by being detain'd
so long at New York, as a reason for my desiring to
be presentiy paid ; and on my observing that it was
not right I should be put to any further trouble or
delay in obtaining the money I had advanc'd, as I
195

BENJAMIN FRAJSfKLIN
charged no commission for my service, " O, Sir,"
says he, "you must not think of persuading us that
you are no gainer ; we understand better those affairs,
and know that every one concerned in supplying
the army finds means, in the doing it, to fill his own
pockets." I assur'd him that was not my case, and
that I had not pocketed a farthing ; but he appear'd
clearly not to believe me ; and, indeed, I have since
learnt that immense fortunes are often made in
such employments. As to my ballance, I am not
paid it to this day, of which more hereafter.
Our captain of the paquet had boasted much, be
fore we sailed, of the swiftness of his ship ; unfor
tunately, when we came to sea, she proved the
dullest of ninety-six sail, to his no small mortifica
tion. After many conjectures respecting the cause,
when we were near another ship almost as dull as
ours, which, however, gain'd upon us, the captain
ordered all hands to come aft, and stand as near the
ensign staff as possible. We were, passengers in
cluded, about forty persons. While we stood there,
the ship mended her pace, and soon left her neigh
bour far behind, which prov'd clearly what our
captain suspected, that she was loaded too much by
the head. The casks of water, it seems, had been
all plac'd forward ; these he therefore order'd to be
mov'd further aft, on which the ship recover'd her
character, and proved the sailer in the fleet.
The captain said she had once gone at the
rate of thirteen knots, which is accounted thir
teen miles per hour. We had on board, as a pas
senger. Captain Kennedy, of the Navy, who con
tended that it was impossible, and that no ship
ever sailed so fast, and that there must have been
some error in the division of the log-line, or some
mistake in heaving the log. A wager ensu'd be
tween the two captains, to be decided when there
should be sufficient wind. Kennedy thereupon ex-
196

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
amin'd rigorously the log-line, and, being satisfi'd
with that, he determin'd to throw the log himself.
Accordingly some days after, when the wind blew
very fair and fresh, and the captain of the paquet,
Lutwidge, said he behev'd she then went at the rate
of thirteen knots, Kennedy made the experiment,
and own'd his wager lost.
The above fact I give for the sake of the follow
ing observation. It has been remark'd, as an im
perfection in the art of ship-buUding, that it can
never be known, tUl she is tried, whether a new
ship will or wUl not be a good sailer ; for that the
model of a good-saUing ship has been exactly
follow'd in a new one, which has prov'd, on the
contrary, remarkably dull. I apprehend that this
may partly be occasion'd by the different opinions
of seamen respecting the modes of lading, rigging,
and saUing of a ship ; each has his system ; and the
same vessel, laden by the judgment and orders of
one captain, shall saU better or worse than when by
the orders of another. Besides, it scarce ever hap
pens that a ship is form'd, fitted for the sea, and
saU'd by the same person. One man builds the
hull, another rigs her, a third lades and sails her.
No one of these has the advantage of knowing all
the ideas and experience of the others, and, there
fore, can not draw just conclusions from a combina
tion of the whole.
Even in the simple operation of sailing when at
sea, I have often observ'd different judgments in the
officers who commanded the successive watches, the
wind being the same. One would have the sails
trimm'd sharper or flatter than another, so that they
seem'd to have no certain rule to govern by. Yet
I think a set of experiments might be instituted,
first, to determine the most proper form of the hull
for swift sailing ; next, the best dimensions and pro-
perest place for the masts ; then the form and quan-
197

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
tity of sails, and their position, as the wind may be ;
and, lastly, the disposition of the lading. This is an
age of experiments, and I think a set accurately
made and combin'd would be of great use. I am
persuaded, therefore, that ere long some ingenious
philosopher will undertake it, to whom I wish
success. We were several times chas'd in our passage, but
outsail'd every thing, and in thirty days had sound
ings. We had a good observation, and the captain
judg'd himself so near our port, Falmouth, thatj if
we made a good run in the night, -we might be off
the mouth of that harbor in the morning, and by
running in the night might escape the notice of the
enemy's privateers, who often crus'd near the en
trance of the channel. Accordingly, all the saU
was set that we could possibly make, and the wind
being very fresh and fair, we went right before it,
and made great way. The captain, after his ob
servation, shap'd his course, as he thought, so as to
pass wide of the Scilly Isles ; but it seems there is
sometimes a strong indraught setting up St George's
Channel, which deceives seamen and caused the loss
of Sir Cloudesley Shovel's squadron. This in
draught was probably the cause of what happened
to us.
We had a watchman plac'd in the bow, to whom
they often called, " Look well out before there,"
and he as often answered, " Ay, ay " ; but perhaps
had his eyes shut, and was half asleep at the time,
they sometimes answering, as is said, mechanically ;
for he did not see a light just before us, which had
been hid by the studding-sails from the man at the
helm, and from the rest of the watch, but by an
accidental yaw of the ship was discover'd, and
occasion'd a great alarm, we being very near it,
the light appearing to me as big as a cart-wheel.
It was midnight, and our captain fast asleep ; but
198

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Captain Kennedy, jumping upon deck, and seeing
the danger, ordered the ship to wear round, all sails
standing ; an operation dangerous to the masts, but
it carried us clear, and we escaped shipwreck, for we
were running right upon the rocks on which the light
house was erected. This deliverance impressed me
strongly with the utility of light-houses, and made
me resolve to encourage the building more of them
in America, if I should live to return there.
In the morning it was found by the soundings, etc.,
that we were near our port, but a thick fog hid the
land from our sight. About nine o'dock the fog
began to rise, and seem'd to be lifted up from the
water like the curtain at a play-house, discovering
underneath, the town of Falmouth, the vessels in its
harbor, and the fields that surrounded it. This was
a most pleasing spectacle to those who had been so
long without any other prospects than the uniform
view of a vacant ocean, and it gave us the more
pleasure as we were now free from the anxieties
which the state of war occasion'd.
I set out immediately, with my son, for London,
and we only stopt a little by the way to view
Stonehenge on Salisbury Plain, and Lord Pem-
*broke's house and gardens, with his very curious
antiquities at Wilton. We arrived in London the
27th of July, 1757.1
' Here terminates the Autobiography, as published by Wm.
Temple Franklin and his successors. What follows was written
in the last year of Dr Franklin's life, and was first printed (in
English) in Mr Bigelow's edition of 1868, — Ed.

199

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
As soon as I was settled in a lodging Mr Charles
had provided for me, I went to visit Dr FothergiU,
to whom I was strongly recommended, and whose
counsel respecting my proceedings I was advis'd to
obtain. He was against an immediate complaint to
government, and thought the proprietaries should
first be personally appli'd to, who might possibly be
induc'd by the interposition and persuasion of some
private friends, to accommodate matters amicably.
I then waited on my old friend and correspondent,
Mr Peter Colhnson, who told me that John Hanbury,
the great Virginia merchant, had requested to be
informed when I should arrive, that he might carry
me to Lord Granville's, who was then President of
the Council and wished to see me as soon as possible.
I agreed to go with him the next morning. Accord
ingly Mr Hanbury called for me and took me in his
carriage to that nobleman's, who receiv'd me with
great civihty; and after some questions respecting
the present state of affairs in America and discourse
thereupon, he said to me : " You Americans have
wrong ideas of the nature of your constitution ; you
contend that the king's instructions to his governors
are not laws, and think yourselves at liberty to
regard dr disregard them at your own discretion.
But those instructions are not like the pocket instruc
tions given to a minister going abroad, for regulat
ing his conduct in some trifling point of ceremony.
They are first drawn up by judges learned in the
laws ; they are then considered, debated, and per
haps amended in Council, after which they are signed
by the king. They are then, so far as they relate to
you, the law of the land, for the king is the Legis
lator OF THE Colonies." I told his lordship this
was new doctrine to me. I had always understood
from our charters that our laws were to be made by
our AssembUes, to be presented indeed to the king
for his royal assent, but that being once given the
200

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
king could not repeal or alter them. And as the
Assembhes could not make permanent laws without
his assent, so ndther could he make a law for them
¦without thdrs. He assur'd me I was totaUy mis
taken. I did not think so, however, and his lord
ship's conversation having a littie alarm'd me as to
what might be the sentiments of the court concern
ing us, I wrote it down as soon as I return'd to my
lodgings. I recoUected that about 20 years before,
a clause in a bUl brought into Parliament by the
ministry had propos'd to make the king's instructions
laws in the colonies, but the clause was thrown out
by the Commons, for which we adored them as our
feends and friends of hberty, till by their conduct
towards us in 1 765 it seem'd that they had refus'd
that point of sovereignty to the king only that they
might reserve it for themselves.
After some days, Dr FothergiU having spoken to
the proprietaries, they agreed to a meeting with me
at Mr T. Penn's house in Spring Garden. The con
versation at first consisted of mutual dedarations of
disposition to reasonable accommodations, but I sup
pose each party had its own ideas of what should
be meant by reasonable. We then went into con
sideration of our several points of complaint, which
I enumerated. The proprietaries justif/d their con
duct as well as they could, and I the Assembly's.
We now appeared very -wide, and so far from each
other in our opinions as to discourage all hope of
agreement. However, it was concluded that I
should give them the heads of our complaints in
writing, and they promis'd then to consider them.
I did so soon after, but they put the paper into the
hands of their solidtor, Ferdinand John Paris, who
managed for them all their law business in then-
great suit with the neighbouring proprietary of
Maryland, Lord Baltimore, which had subsisted
70 years, and wrote for them all their papers and
201

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
messages in their dispute with the Assembly. He
was a proud, angry man, and as I had occasionally in
the answers of the Assembly treated his papers with
some severity, they being really weak in point of
argument and haughty in expression, he had con
ceived a mortal enmity to me, which discovering
itself whenever we met, I declin'd the proprietary's
proposal that he and I should discuss the heads of
complaint between our two selves, and refus'd treat
ing with any one but them. They then by his advice
put the paper into the hands of the Attorney and
Solicitor-General for their opinion and counsel upon
it, where it lay unanswered a year wanting eight
days, during which time I made frequent demands
of an answer from the proprietaries, but without
obtaining any other than that they had not yet
received the opinion of the Attorney and Solicitor-
General. What it was when they did receive it I
never learnt, for they did not communicate it to me,
but sent a long message to the Assembly drawn and
signed by Paris, reciting my paper, complaining of
its want of formality, as a rudeness on my part, and
giving a flimsy justification of their conduct, adding
that they should be willing to accommodate matters
if the Assembly would send out some person of candour
to treat with them for that purpose, intimating
thereby that I was not such.
The want of formality or rudeness was, probably,
my not having address'd the paper to them with
their assum'd titles of True and Absolute Proprie
taries of the Province of Pennsylvania, which I
omitted as not thinking it necessary in a paper, the
intention of which was only to reduce to a certainty
by writing, what in conversation I had delivered
viva voce.
But during this delay, the Assembly having pre
vailed with Gov'r Denny to pass an act taxing the
proprietary estate in common with the estates of
202

HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
the people, which was the grand point in dispute,
they omitted answering the message.
When this act however came over, the proprie
taries, counselled by Paris, determined to oppose
its receiving the royal assent. Accordingly they
petition'd the king in CouncU, and a hearing was
appointed in which two lawyers were employ'd by
them against the act, and two by me in support of
it. They alledg'd that the act was intended to load
the proprietary estate in order to spare those of the
people, and that if it were suffer'd to continue in
force, and the proprietaries who were in odium with
the people, left to their mercy in proportioning the
taxes, they would inevitably be ruined. We reply'd
that the act had no such intention, and would have
no such effect. That the assessors were honest and
discreet men under an oath to assess fairly and
equitably, and that any advantage each of them
might expect in lessening his own tax by augment
ing that of the proprietaries was too trifling to induce
them to perjure themselves. This is the purport of
what I remember as urged by both sides, except
that we insisted strongly on the mischievous conse
quences that must attend a repeal, for that the
money, ^^ 100,000, being printed and given to the
king's use, expended in his service, and now spread
among the people, the repeal would strike it dead
in their hands to the ruin of many, and the total
discouragement of future grants, and the selfishness
of the proprietors in soliciting such a general catas
trophe, merely from a groundless fear of their estate
being taxed too highly, was insisted on in the
strongest terms. On this. Lord Mansfield, one of
the counsel rose, and beckoning me took me into
the clerk's chamber, while the lawyers were plead
ing, and asked me if I was really of opinion that no
injury would be done the proprietary estate in the
execution of the act. I said certainly. "Then,"
203

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
says he, " you can have little objection to enter into
an engagement to assure that point." I answer'd,
" None at all." He then call'd in Paris, and after
some discourse, his lordship's proposition was ac
cepted on both sides ; a paper to the purpose was
drawn up by the Clerk of the Council, which I
sign'd with Mr Charles, who was also an Agent of
the Province for their ordinary affairs, when Lord
Mansfield returned to the Council Chamber, where
finally the law was allowed to pass. Some changes
were however recommended and we also engaged
they should be made by a subsequent law, but the
Assembly did not think them necessary ; for one
year's tax having been levied by the act before the
order of Council arrived, they appointed a committee
to examine the proceedings of the assessors, and on
this committee they put several particular friends of
the proprietaries. After a full enquiry, they unani
mously sign'd a report that they found the tax had
been assess'd with perfect equity.
The Assembly looked into my entering into the
first part of the engagement, as an essential service
to the Province, since it secured the credit of the
paper money then spread over all the country. They
gave me their thanks in form when I return'd.
But the proprietaries were enraged at Governor
Denny for having pass'd the act, and turn'd him
out with threats of suing him for breach of instruc
tions which he had given bond to observe. He,
however, having done it at the instance of the
General, and for His Majesty's service, and having
some powerful interest at court, despis'd the threats
and they were never put in execution. . . .
[Unfinished].

204

SOME ACCOUNT OF
FRANKLIN'S LATER LIFE
principally in relation to the
history of his time
BY
W. MACDONALD

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
There are a multiplicity of standpoints from which
we must view the many-sided Franklin if we would
have more than a meagre misconception of that
rich and varied personality; but I think his life,
regarded somewhat objectively, falls readily into
three periods which have a historical quite as much
as they have a biographic character. If we look
upon him, as surely we must look upon him, as the
greatest type and example of the Citizen which
modern history knows, and recognise that it was
evidently Benjamin Franklin's business and affair
upon this earth to be a citizen, and only his trade
and livehhood to be a printer, and his casual occu
pation and pastime to be, amongst many other
things, a celebrated man of science — then we shall
also recognise that his life is divisible into his
Apprenticeship, his Journeyman - years, and the
great period of his Mastership in the practical art
and mystery, which he made so completely his own,
in all its branches and at all its levels, of being the
Complete Citizen — of his city, his country, and the
world. And upon further consideration we shall
find that the three great stages of his life are
marked by such a progressive enlargement of the
scene and the character of his civic activity as these
three words — city, country, world — may stand for.
Already in his twenty-second year we have the
spectacle of a certain ingenious, purposeful young
man called Franklin, a citizen of Philadelphia, whom,
young as he is, Philadelphia is peculiarly conscious
of possessing. He is but a working printer, newly
207

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
set up in a small way of business with another
man, has no position worth speaking of, and really
ought to count for nothing with his neighbours.
But his practical turn and his genius for thriving on a
very little, which one must respect, and his searching
and humorous sort of mind, which is perhaps not
quite so pleasant to live beside, have made him a
marked man among them. A stranger coming into
that part, and taking his ease at his inn, would (we
feel) be sure to hear him spoken of, not in every case
with approbation, within the next twenty-four hours.
Benjamin Franklin is already an asset of the place,
though nobody there sees that he is on his way to
become a power in the land. He does not see it
himself; and if he has already done some things,
and is daily exercising some faculties, that must tend
to carry him into a large sphere of activity, he does
those things and exercises those faculties strictly
with regard to the day's purposes and to the sphere
of activity in which he actually finds himself. What
ever his defects — for he has been self-educated
and has lived as a kind of orphan, runaway or
castaway, in two hemispheres — he is singularly
lucid, singularly alive : and has drawn a wonderful
number of moral inferences, considering his years,
from his own experience and his own thought. But
perhaps his simple and axiomatic desire to be as little
as possible either an incompetent, a fool, or a rogue
in his passage through this world, affords the only,
as it is a quite sufficient token, that he is an original
genius and a man in five millions.
Having begun at the beginning, and having a long
way to go, he must needs travel at a great rate
through the earlier stages of the journey ; and by
his twenty-seventh or his thirtieth year he has
covered the whole course usually comprised in the
biographies of successful men and eminently exem
plary citizens. At twenty-one he had organised the
208

HIS LATER LIFE
Junto, and was himself, we cannot doubt, equal to
half the entire intellectual strength of that famous
body and its branches. At twenty-two he has become
partner in a business, his intelligence and character
being reckoned a contribution amply equivalent to
the other parties' capital. At twenty-three he
improvises and publishes a pamphlet upon a difficult
currency question concerning which opinion was
fiercely agitated, and so does much to determine
the colonial legislature's decision on that matter.
This " Modest Inquiry into the Nature and Necessity
of a Paper Currency " is now looked upon as having
been an extraordinary production for its place and
time, antidpating the method and some of the posi
tions of Adam Smith — who was then, however, an
urchin six years old. In this same year our young
printer takes over the Pennsylvania Gazette, of which
he is manager, editor, and by far the wisest and
most humorous contributor to its columns ; and he
makes of it in a day such a newspaper as America
had not hitherto known. In his twenty-fourth year
he has become sole proprietor of the growing
business by an honourable arrangement with his
partner, who has decided that town-work is not his
vocation and wants to get back to husbandry. For
Franklin, the only difficult point is to choose his
creditor in making the necessary arrangements, more
than one friend having spontaneously pressed upon
him the offer of financial facihties for a venture of
his own, if he would make it. Next year, at the
age of twenty-five, he has, "acting with some
friends" — who would not have acted at all in the
matter but for his ingenuity in making them believe
that they cared for these things far more than he
did — brought into being and started on a pros
perous career the Philadelphia Library, the parent
of the subscription libraries in America, and to-day
a flourishing institution of which that country is
o 209

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
justiy proud. In his twenty-seventh year he has
begun to publish the most famous popular annual
which ever came from the press. Poor Richard^s
Almanack was indeed influential as well as famous,
and is perhaps the one secular work in the world
which has educated a people and formed the char
acter of a nation. Yet the voice that spoke in it
was always the voice of Ben Franklin, printer in
Philadelphia, and expressed his mind even when the
words were those of other men. We might legiti
mately, therefore, look on his apprentice period in
the art of citizenship as ending at this point, where
Poor Richard begins, or earlier. But though he
has already, in this so-called apprentice period,
done work which would be achievement enough
for an ordinary excellent citizen's lifetime, yet the
more historical view justifies us in dating his second
period from about his thirty-third year.
What is worth noting in his first period is less
what he has done, notable as that is, than the way
in which he has done it, the motives by which he
has been impelled. His progress towards being a
phUosopher and even a person of some social import
ance, is neither the issue of any expansive ideologies
nor the realisation of any ambitious dreams. It seems
to come about, naturally and almost unperceived,
from the everyday applications of common-sense to
the things immediately in view, the little situations
of the day and the hour. As he is a Man, he wishes
to be an intelligent one, and therefore takes the
trouble of thinking ; and that he may think to better
purpose, he seeks information wherever he can find
it. As he is a Printer, he attends to his business ;
and he differs from the majority in that and all other
trades in recognising that his business has claims
upon him, and that those claims include not only
industry and intelhgence but also character. He is
one of the half-dozen optimists who have firmly
2IO

HIS LATER LIFE
believed that moral worth is worth something even
in the most desperate arcumstances, such as the
conduct of a thriving business. FinaUy, as a Phila-
delphian, he is interested in all the things and the
people immediately around him ; and he has his own
thought, and presently his own word to say, on all
the littie pohtics of the place and the province. His
pamphlet on paper currency has been spoken of; but
it is less useful, for an understanding of Franklin, to
exclaim about its precocity and its argumentative
value than to recognise its immediately practical
genesis and aim. It is not a treatise by a young
thinker, but the printed reasonings of a townsman,
which he thinks may help. It is, in a word, but an
instance of that civic handiness, that immediate un
professional competence in aU the things upon which
good sense could have a word to say, or character a
point of view to advocate, which by-and-by carried
Franklin forward into the ranks of the foremost men
of his age. Yet he laid down nothing, emerged
from no hmitations, in issuing from the smaUer
sphere ; he took up no new fashion or faculty or
knowledge in entering into the larger one — but was
just the same Benjamin Franklin, reasoning and
reasonable, whether as citizen of PhUadelphia taking
home his purchases of paper in a wheelbarrow, or as
the representative man of a whole people, placed
prominentiy in the eye of all the world. At any
time in his third period he could have returned to
the scenes and occupations of his first — to his daUy
work as a colonial printer, and his limited concern
ments as a citizen of PhUadelphia — without any
change of that habit of mind and that level of
inteUect and character which won him such esteem
from the learned men of the French enlightenment
and such confidence and respect, amounting to a
moral ascendancy, in the minds of the ministers of
Louis XVI. And we may say that if Frankhn was
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
always the right man in the right place, it was
because, more than any man who ever moved
through such a range of activity and experience, he
was always the same man wherever he found him
self. It is this which has made it seem worth whUe
to linger thus over what was meant to be but a
passing reference to the beginning of his career.
For, not to say that in the beginning all things were,
we may opine at least that Franklin's life affords an
extraordinary example of the value of an unpretend
ing disposition and an axiomatic mind ; and that all
his career seems, as we read it in greatest detail, but
the matter-of-fact consequence of being alive, and
having a home like one's neighbour, and a business
to attend to, and a city to care for and serve. That
is why I have called him the greatest Citizen in
modern history.
From what has been said above it follows that the
difference between his first and his second period is
expresssed rather by a change in the sphere of his
activities or of his effective interests than in the
character of the man or the range of his competence.
The marked Philadelphian, much commented on by
his neighbours, and sometimes spoken of even in
the country places, has imperceptibly, and without
perceiving it, become transformed into the leading
Pennsylvanian. His home is in PhUadelphia still,
but the whole province has become his city ; and
the wider neighbourhood, beyond that province,
through which his name is becoming quoted and
familiar, coincides with the area of English settle
ment on the Atlantic seaboard. But during the
first part of this period, though he counts for more
and more in the life of the community to which he
belongs, it is still almost entirely as a private
individual that he exercises a felt influence. He
is, more than any other, the man from whom people
receive suggestions, or to whom they come for
212

HIS LATER LIFE
counsel in moments of difficulty or impending faUure
of their own efforts. Even when a very good man
has laboured hard at a very gfod scheme — as did
Dr Bond at his project for a Pennsylvania Hospital —
the thing cannot make headway with the public
untU the public is assured that their townsman
Franklin has looked into and approves of it. His
good sense, his good humour, his more than good
wits in a case requiring them, his aptness to initiate
improvements, his admirable moral faculty of never
claiming the chief credit when they have been
achieved — in a word, his instinct for well-doing,
his knowledge of men, and his control over the
common littlenesses of human nature in himself —
have made him the most helpful man in Pennsylvania
for all sorts of occasions. And the occasions on
which Pennsylvania availed herself of the services
of this private citizen led to public results of
enduring consequence, and mark important steps
in the evolution of the city and the province. The
paving, cleaning, and lighting of the streets ; the
introduction of new trees, new cereals, and of
fertilisers ; the invention of the famed American
stove ; the formation of a citizens' fire brigade ; the
founding of that academy which became in no long
time the University of Pennsylvania; the organisation
of the defences both of the city and the province —
these are some of the favours, and there were many
more, for which Pennsylvania was indebted to
Frankhn, and, for the most part, not to Franklin
as a public man, but only as a private man of
incomparable public spirit.
All this time, too, we might say that he was
mainly minding and extending his own private
business, were it not that, as we have already
agreed, his business was really to be a citizen, and
his occupation to make himself useful. Even his
pastimes subserved that end. If he went out of
213

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
doors one day, attended only by his son, to fly a
kite in a thunderstorm and snatch the lightning
from the clouds, it was less out of an abstract desire
to verify his theory of the identity of the lightning
flash and the so-called electric fluid than because
he felt that the home life of mankind would be
practically benefited by the conquest of that know
ledge. In the four years between 1749 ^^^ ^753>
he suddenly became the most famous scientific
discoverer of his time. The letters in which he
had described his surmises and experiments, as
so much news sent to a friend in England, were
translated in the course of a few years into the
principal European languages (including Latin), and
were universally admired; not only for the " results "
which they communicated, but for their many
quahties of matter and form, which ranked them
as classics of scientific exposition. This philosopher
of the backwoods was the wonder of the world in
the middle of that century. And there was that
about the very subject-matter of his reputation
which caused him to be regarded by the simpler
public of many nations as a man of weird know
ledge and power, if not exactly as a wizard : in an
earlier age he would have had his legend, like
Michael Scot, rather than a scientific recognition,
like Newton. Nevertheless, all this time the afore
said private business — the business of Benjamin
Franklin, printer and stationer in Philadelphia —
was prospering and extending, so that the head
of it was now a man of wealth and substance,
drawing from this source alone two thousand pounds
a year. But Franklin valued money only for the
degree in which it made him master of his own
time, and so enabled him to prosecute his proper
occupation of growing wise and being useful. To
further this end he made, about the time that we speak
of (in 1748), one of the most generously arranged
214

HIS LATER UFE
retirements from business on record. That is to
say, he handed over the whole business with aU its
branches to his foreman David Hall — a former
feUow-workman whom he had taken into his em
ployment a few years previously, having a high
respect for his qualities of character and intelligence
— handed over the entire business to Hall on an
agreement that Hall should pay to him one-half of the
present profits for a term of eighteen years, and then
become absolute and sole proprietor, doing with -the
business as he hked. At the same time it was
arranged that neither Poor Richard's Almanack nor
the Pennsylvania Gazette was to be deprived of the
strength and fascination which the sagacity, the
knowledge, and the humour of Benjamin Franklin
could alone impart to their pages.
The actual consequences of this retirement were
very different from those looked forward to by the
magnanimous printer, who, in taking this great step,
had dreamt of securing " leisure during the rest of
my life for phUosophical studies and amusements."
Leisure he had indeed secured, ample leisure in
which to wear himself out in the service of his
country almost to within an hour of his death forty-
two years later. And as to his amusements, if any
man might draw amusement from observing the inner
springs of great events and studying the behaviour
of our little human nature at the elevated plane of
la haute politique, it should be one who to a profound
acquaintance with the realities of life, as only poor
and common folk for the most part know them, has
added the intellect of a phUosopher and the discern
ment of a humourist. And to Franklin, who was
practical man and philosopher and humourist in their
happiest and most intimate combination, these oppor
tunities were to be afforded, or forced upon him, in
consequence of this said retirement from business
and of some other happenings which were less
215

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
within his control. To refer to this^ however, is to
anticipate. The point to be noted here is that
Franklin's retirement from business meant his entry
into the sphere of what, at the risk of appearing
paradoxical, I shall cdl official usefulness. Of
course it is the aim and reason-for-being of officials,
as such, to prevent anything useful from being done
by anybody, and to do as little harm themselves as
they can with the remainder of their time. At any
rate, in Franklin's own words : —
" The publick now considering me as a man of leisure,
laid hold of me for their purposes, every part of our civil
government, and almost at the same time, imposing some
duty upon me. The governor put me into the commission
of the peace ; the corporation of the city chose me of the
common council, and soon after an alderman ; and the
citizens at large chose me a burgess to represent them in
Assembly."
Thus the leading Pennsylvanian was a leading Penn
sylvanian still, only more full of works than ever. But
he is now rendering services to the province upon a
scale and of a kind that would not have been possible
to a private member of the community, however dis
tinguished, influential, and honoured. Of these
occupations — such as his improvement of the postal
system of the entire colonies; his Plan of Union,
submitted to the Congress at Albany in 1754; ^'^
co-operation with General Braddock (by which he
averted an impending risk of Pennsylvania being
dragooned if not devastated by that iracund defender
of colonial safeties) ; his brief but creditable career
as a military commander and builder of wooden
frontier fortresses — of these he has given in the
latter part of the Autobiography a summary which
is sufficient in regard to the historical events, but
which makes too little of his own part and merit in
the things that took place. But it was as leader of
216

HIS LATER LIFE
the popular party in the constitutional conflict with
the Penns, proprietaries of Pennsylvania, that his
powers were now (from about 1850 onwards)
most signaUy developed and used to most far-
reaching effect. It is, finally, in the course of this
provindal conflict that he arrives at the further
hmit of what I have called his second stage : when,
at the crossing of an invisible line, the leading Penn
sylvanian becomes the Representative American —
because the most absolutely and comprehensively
American man on that continent — and as such is
planted forward, outside his own country, and upon
the universal platform of the world, to be the intel
lectual and moral protagonist of a new nation, and
the advocate of his distressed people to the hearts of
the peoples of Europe.
Now regarding the first of these periods, the
Philadelphian period, the Autobiography gives a
sufficient and a famous account. Regarding the
second, the Pennsylvanian period, it speaks with
less fulness, and the record is abruptly broken off.
Regarding the third — the American or Continental
period, when he became so conspicuously a citizen
of the world, just because he loved his native
country best — the Autobiography tells us nothing
at all, ceasing as it does at a point some twenty
years earlier. That is a loss which can never be
made good, even by the longest and best biography,
and the biographies of Franklin are amongst the
longest and best in the English language. Within
the hmits of this appendix all that can be
attempted is a brief summary, indicating the part
played by Franklin in the history of the Revolu
tionary era. But even this may be serviceable to
some readers of the present reprint, to whom, as
few of them can have had the advantage of being
born American citizens, knowledge of these things
may not have come by nature. First, however,
217

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
something must be said in order to make more intel
ligible to English readers that struggle against the
proprietors which engaged Franklin's energies dur
ing the latter part of his Pennsylvanian period.

The Province was named after Admiral WUliam
Penn, to whose son — a more famous William —
Charles II. conveyed it in i68l, in lieu of a
monetary settlement of the large claim against the
Crown which the said son had inherited from the
Admiral. Under the title of Proprietor (or Pro
prietary) of Pennsylvania, William Penn was invested
with the functions of a captain-general over this vast
region, with power to make treaties with the Indians
and to purchase lands from them ; and while retain
ing the status of an English gentleman at home, was
virtually created a prince beyond the seas.
" He was to appoint judges and magistrates ; could
pardon all crimes, except murder and treason ; and what
ever things he could lawfully do himself he could appoint
a deputy to do, he and his heirs for ever. But he could
lay no impost, no customs, no tax, nor enact a law, without
the consent of the freemen of the province in Assembly
represented. Of the land he was absolute proprietor ; nor
would he dispose of any of it absolutely. He sold great
tracts at forty shillings per hundred acres, all subject to
an annual quit-rent of one shilling per hundred acres. He
also reserved manors, city lots, and various portions of
territory, either holding them against a rise in value or
letting them to tenants,"
The history of the province is not our proper
topic, so it wUl be sufficient if the reader takes
note of two things that had happened in the
interval between, say, i68l and 1753. In the first
place the province of Pennsylvania had grown
wonderfully in all senses, by the addition of lands
218

HIS LATER LIFE
purchased from the Indians, and by the rapid incom
ing and thriving of settiers. Thus Philadelphia, a
garden city with over fourteen thousand inhabitants,
was also a great place of trade and shipping, and
the business and marketing centre for a provincial
population of nearly two hundred thousand. In
the second place, the proprietorship had passed to
Thomas and Richard Penn, the surviving sons of
the founder. Thomas Penn possessed three-fourths
of the entire estate ; and was in all respects so much
the leading personality in this brotherhood that
Frankhn frequently speaks of "the proprietary,"
as if there were only one to be reckoned with.
The proprietaries were not, in an absolute sense,
legislators of Pennsylvania. But through their right
of appointment they had a predominant influence,
and by their power of veto on all acts of Assembly
they were in a position to hinder the conduct of
pubhc business to any extent they pleased. They
were pleased to do so on all occasions when their
prerogatives or their private interest seemed to be
either immediately or remotely impinged upon or
imperilled. The resident governor of the province
was but the nominee and political man-of-business
of the Penns, the factor and watch-dog of what
was to them merely an enormous private estate.
The more that estate became developed by the
intelhgence and industry, the character and courage
of other men — religious men from all the world who
had made their homes there, on the confines of the
¦wilderness and with the savage for their neighbour
— the more did the Penn interests seem worth foster
ing and looking after with the closest vigilance and
the most jealous foresight. Governor after governor
was sent out, each with his secret instructions to this
end; and the effect of these instructions was that
the history of each governorship is a story of pro
tracted wrangles between the representatives of the
219

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
people and the deputy of the proprietors. The
governor could refuse to sign the bills of the
Assembly if the Assembly showed a disposition to
encroach or no disposition to comply ; and some
times a whole table-load of these inhibited acts of
parliament awaited his pleasure to become law.
The Assembly could retaliate by refusing or defer
ring to "consider the question of the governor's
support" — in plain English to pay him his salary,
which was optional and honorary and of unfixed
amount. Meanwhile the man must live, and bills
of another kind than those forwarded by the As
sembly were apt to accumulate upon his table.
Thus the situation tended to resolve itself into a
question of who could hold out longest : the Assembly
under the inconveniences of an arrest of public busi
ness, or the governor under the discomforts and the
privations due to a stoppage of supplies. On one
occasion at least the comedy was played out to the
point at which the curtain came down upon the
historic tableau of a governor receiving his salary
with the one hand while with the other he appended
his signature to the Assembly's bUls. Latterly, how
ever, the proprietors had bethought them to safeguard
their interests against the risks of such a surrender
by taking a bond of the new governor before sending
him out ; so that for him to give way upon any point
contrary to the spirit or letter of his instructions,
would now mean not only ignominious recall, but
more or less financial damage for himself or his
guarantors. The antagonism between Proprietors and People
that was inherent in the system of government led
to a succession of minor disputes, having a merely
local interest. But about the time when Franklin
entered pubhc life the questions at issue began to
take a broader character, entitling them to be con
sidered constitutional rather than local ones. This
220

HIS LATER LIFE
new phase began with a dispute in regard to the
expences of what were called Indian Affairs ; by
which was meant the expence of keeping up
friendly relations with the Indians, and especially
of making the considerable presents that were
always inddental to negotiations for the purchasing
of land from the tribes. The Assembly, as the
other charges of administration grew, now sub
mitted that the Proprietors ought to bear a share
of this particular burden. How reasonable the
request was, will be understood when it is ex
plained that the people had at an earlier time
conceded to the Proprietors an exdusive right —
which does not seem to have belonged to them
originally — of purchasing lands from the Indians.
How valuable, also, that right was, will be under
stood when it is added that, on one occasion alone,
the Penns bought for /^7oo a stretch of lands
which they valued at ^^3,000,000 in their own
land-seUing negotiations with the colonists. Never
theless, they stoutly and angrUy resisted the demand
that they should help to pay the expences incurred
in securing for them such vast advantages. If there
were such expences, the people, and not they, must
be taxed to pay them. This chapter of the dispute
was still unclosed when the second and greater one
opened. By this second one, Pennsylvania is brought
into connection with the great currents of history
and the rivalries of mighty nations. England and
France were technically at peace with one another
from 1748 to 1756; but in North America a war,
in which much was achieved and more was suffered,
was in active progress from about 1752- Such a
war not only threatened England with the loss of
her colonies, but threatened the colonists with more
than the loss of their homes. For war in that part
of the world, in those days, brought the Indian, and
all the horrors that Indian warfare meant. No colony
221

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
was more exposed to the visitations of this unchristian
foe than the Quaker colony of Pennsylvania. There
fore the inhabitants hardly needed the commands of
the Home Government, which were emphatic and
urgent enough, that they (and all other loyal subjects
in America) should put themselves in a state of
defence. But the Proprietors regarded such con
ditions of public peril as but favourable opportunities
for getting the Assembly to abandon some claim of
its own, or to ratify some claim of theirs, which
might at the moment be in dispute ; and the method
was, to permit nothing to be done untU they had their
way. So bUl after biU, appropriating money for war
purposes — or, as it was called, " for the King's use "
— was now vetoed by the Governor, because the
estates of the Penns had not been exempted from the
taxation imposed for the defence of their property
and everyone else's. The story cannot be foUowed
out in these pages. Suffice it, that the Assembly
conducted its disputation with these arrogant and
foolish Proprietors in a way that would have been
creditable to a greater Parliament, in not its meanest
ages ; and knew how to be forcible and trenchant
without loss of moderation, and constitutionally re
spectful without abating a tittle of the respect which
it very properly had for itself. This strong quality
was introduced into the deliberations and the docu
ments of Assembly by Benjamin Franklin ; who, as
leader of the popular party, and the most gifted
writing-man in America, was virtually Secretary for
the People during ten years of ever-renewed con
troversy. -In his Autobiography he understates, as
usual, the extent to which his personality was a
prevaihng power, an inspiration and a defence, to
the province in those days. Even the Proprietors at
last recognised that he was of some importance ; and
if this knowledge only prompted them to approach
him with a bribe, the blunder was quite in character
222

HIS LATER LIFE
and did him no damage. The colonists expressed
their recognition of his value in a more worthy way.
For when a point had been reached at which the
alternatives presented to them were, either, to accept
finally a position of legal vassalage to the Penns, or
else aUow the defenceless province to go under alto
gether — then they decided that Benjamin Franklin,
their -wisest and strongest, was the man to take their
cause across the seas for settlement, and submit it to
the judgment of greater powers in the English world
than even Thomas and Richard Penn.
The last pages of the Autobiography tell of his
arrival in England, and indicate rather than explain
what he effected. To explain fully would require
more space than is available here, but his account
may be supplemented a little. In the first place he
had come upon a more unwelcome errand than he
was aware of when he set out. Colonial affairs had
lately begun to receive a good deal of attention from
the Home Government, but the tendency of that
attention was by no means favourable to colonial
ideas. Ministers and officials had discovered that
matters were rather confused in that part of the
world, and had decided very wisely that they must be
put in better order. Unfortunately, the putting in
order was to consist in the colonies being taken in
hand and " put in their places ; " which they were
supposed to have wandered away from in dreams of
unqudified self-government and such like delusions.
In a word, governmental and bureaucratic ideas were
having their turn just then in what we may call, by
courtesy, official thought. It was likely to be an ill
turn for Pennsylvania in particular, since that colony
was not a favourite with official thinkers. In the
second place, specid steps were presently taken by
the Proprietors to secure a pronouncement in favour
of their own claims as against the Assembly ; which
were just the kind of claims the Home Government
223

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
was itself inclined to set up against Assemblies one
and all. The occasion was this. Governor Denny,
not being at a safe distance in England while the
French were marching and the Indians prowling
about the frontier of every colony, was in a position
to reaUse what the course which he was commanded
to take was likely to lead to. He had, therefore, as
became a soldier and a man of sense, broken his
instructions and given his assent to bills involving
taxation of the Proprietary estates. When this was
known in England, a new Governor was at once
despatched to take his place. But alas ! Governor
Hamilton did what Governor Denny had done ; so
the only remedy remaining was for the poor Penns
to invoke the King of England to protect their
pockets against the tax-gatherer. The custom of
the constitution required that all colonial Acts of
Assembly, after being duly passed, should be for
warded to England for the King's assent. The
Penns now made a test case of one of those above
referred to, and appealed to the King in Council to
disdlow it. In June 1760 the committee to which
the matter was referred rendered a report such as
the brothers Penn might themselves have written ;
so emphatic it was in its vindication of their claims
and its denunciation of the Assembly. And not of
the Pennsylvania Assembly alone. For, going out
into general reflections that were intended as a
reprimand and a warning to all other Assemblies in
America, it contained much about " attempts to set
up a democracy in place of His Majesty's Govern
ment " ; about the constitution being " brought back
to its proper principles " ; about " restoring to the
Crown, in the person of the Proprietaries, its just
prerogatives" — in a word, the note of the time
resounded menacingly throughout the dread and
decisive document. Frankhn was in the act of set
ting out for a holiday when a copy of this report, or
224

HIS LATER LIFE
predse information as to its character, reached him.
He at once turned back and addressed himself to the
task of getting the thing set aside before its stupid
thunders had raised, as they would have raised, a
real storm. By what means he wrought during the
next three months we do not know ; but by the time
when the King in Council sat to dispose of this
matter on September 2, 1760, wisdom and Franklin
had prevaUed to such effect that the points at issue
between Assembly and Proprietors were decided
almost without qualification in the Assembly's
favour. As for the interview with Lord Mansfield
in a back room (referred to in the last lines of the
Autobiography), it seems to have been a little theat-
ricd manoeuvre by which the CouncU " saved its
face," as the modern diplomatic slang expresses it.
The Council dso saved in this way the feelings of
its over-hasty committee, by affecting to believe that
in securing such guarantees as Franklin was now
giving it was securing something quite new and
important, something that entirely changed the aspect
of the dispute !
Thus after three years of waiting, he was able to
bring to a prosperous conclusion the main business
on which he had come. He was detained in England
two years longer by other colonial business ; but
this five years' absence from home was a time
pleasantly and usefully spent. Usefully, even from
the point of view of imperial affairs ; for it would
seem that to Frankhn, in a degree, we are indebted
for the addition of Canada to the British Empire.
He shared keenly in the public interests of that time,
and was very emphatically what would be called
nowadays an Imperialist. Being struck by the
futihty of England carrying on her war against
France in the heart of Germany — where nothing
could be gained by her in the end, and not much
lost by France, save the winning and losing of
p 225

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
battles — he pointed to Canada as a more ehgible
field of operations : since it was a field which
England, should she be victorious, would be able to
add permanently to her own estate when the fight
ing was done. His views and arguments on the
subject were laid before Pitt by confidential inter
mediaries ; and whether prompted by Franklin's
intelligence or his own, the great War-Minister put
this plan in execution, with memorable consequences.
But as the end of the war drew near, and when
journalists and pamphleteers began to occupy them
selves in forecasting the probable terms of peace,
Canada became a leading topic. The question was
agitated whether England, since she could hardly
expect to retain all the spoils that had fallen to her
in the course of the struggle, should elect to restore
to France the valuable sugar-islands of Guadaloupe,
or the dearly-won province of Canada. On such a
question Franklin could not be indifferent. He who
had been the first to recommend that conquest was
naturally the last man to like the idea of its being
nullified. And he had better reasons, based upon
longer views. " I have long been of opinion," he
wrote to Lord Kames, " that the foundations of the
future grandeur and stabihty of the British Empire lie
in America ; and though, like other foundations, they
are low and little now, they are, nevertheless, broad
and strong enough to support the greatest political
structure that human wisdom ever yet erected."
With Canada added, they would be broader and
stronger still ; and he was led to forecast the expan
sion of the British race in that part of the world,
and thereby the increase of English power in the
world at large, in a very optimistic sense. To influ
ence public opinion and the councils of state in
favour of his views, he pubhshed a voluminous
pamphlet setting forth the advantages likely to
accrue to England from her new possession in
226

HIS LATER LIFE
America. And doubtless the pamphlet had its
influence, for he had a good case, and, at dl times,
a knack of convincing writing. At any rate, by the
Treaty of Paris (1763) Guaddoupe was restored to
France, and Canada remdned, and remains to this
day, with England.
Turning from these public concerns to the more
persond life of Franklin in England, we may say that
if he had not much work to do, every day of the
time was weU filled. His electrical studies were
not neglected. He had experimental apparatus,
mostly of his own invention and his own building,
set up in his London rooms ; and of the many
visitors who travelled thither most came to see the
man, but not a few came to see the Wonder-worker.
A great many of the best papers contained in his
CoUected Works were written for the amusement or
the instruction of the daughter of Mrs Stevenson,
the lady whose house at 7 Craven Street, Strand,
was his home and headquarters in England now and
later. He was accompanied on this visit by his son
WUliam, a young man in all senses well formed to
make his way in the social and official world ; and
father and son made many little journeys into
different parts of England, and even as far as to
Scotland. In the latter country, it is pleasing to
know, Franklin found the welcome which he looked
back to with the greatest pleasure of all, and avowed
that if he were to choose his life-abode anew, it was
there he would choose to be and to abide. They
also explored the Northamptonshire countryside
whence his own and his wife's forbears had come;
and he found some new relations who, albeit in a
humble station of life, were worthily maintaining the
Franklin tradition of hedth, intelhgence, and char
acter. He also sought the printing-house in which
he had worked as a lad, and, standing by the old
case, which he himself had used, chatted long and
227

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
curiously with the compositors about how things
were in his day. On this occasion he derogated so
far alas ! from the virtues of the Water- American as
to send out for a plentiful supply of beer, that he
and his fellow-craftsmen might celebrate this re
union in the spirit of true British happiness. On a
visit to Cambridge he was received with a great
deal of distinction by the learned men of that place,
as he was by all leai^ned and thoughtful men wher
ever he went. Franklin's visit to England was
indeed a sort of five-years'-long event, and broken
records of the profound impression which his per
sonality made upon all who met him are scattered
throughout the social, political, and literary memoirs
of that time. He was the subject of a wide curi
osity. Great expectations, which it was hard for
any man to live up to, everywhere preceded him.
Yet none who met him were disappointed, and
many were surprised ; so wise he was, and so various,
so much a perfect man at every point. More
notable, perhaps, than the admiration everywhere
accorded him was the warm feeling of friendship
which he inspired in so many of his contemporaries.
And those friendships stood the test of time as few
friendships do ; not only of time, but of historical
circumstances that seldom fail to compel estrange
ment even between brother and brother, or father
and son. To refer to this, however, is to anticipate.
What has to be said here is that the enthusiasm of
some of his friends would be content with nothing
less than his setthng in England for good. And
had it lain only with him to decide, he was more
than half willing. But he well knew that no power
on earth could ever induce his good wife to face the
horrors of a sea-voyage ; so he made his prepara
tions for getting home. The feelings with which
he left these shores are happily expressed in a letter
to Lord Kames, written from Portsmouth in August
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HIS LATER LIFE
1762. "I am now wdting here only for a ^^nnd to
waft .me to America, but cannot leave this happy
island and my friends in it without extreme regret,
though I am going to a country and a people that I
love. I am going from the Old world to the New ;
and I fancy I feel like those who are leaving this
world for the next : grief at the parting ; fear of
the passage ; hope of the future."

On arriving at Philadelphia, at the beginning of
November, he was enthusiastically welcomed by his
fellow-dtizens. He was, indeed, so much called
upon by congratidating friends, and so greatiy in
request for public business, that he sdd, in a letter
to Miss Stevenson, he would have to come back to
England for a httie repose. Little as he guessed it,
he was to be back in England very soon ; and there
was not much repose for him in the intervd. Al
most the whole of the year 1763 was given to a
laborious post-office pUgrimage through the colonies,
and on his return to PhUadelphia he found plenty to
do. The whole province was in a state of com
motion and dread, the condition of things being be
tween anarchy and civil war. It arose in this way.
At the conclusion of the war between France and
England, the Indians had not been suffidentiy taken
into account. Besides being demorahsed by their
late partidpation in the white man's doings, they
were in a bad temper at the loss of what had been
for some years a sort of hvelihood. So they con
tinued the war on their o-wn account and in their
own way ; to such effect that dl dong the western
frontier, "men loathed the very name of Indian"
in the year 1763. Among the wUd, if godly,
Scoto-Irish Cdvinists of Paxton, a western county
of Pennsylvania, this feeling of morbid repugnance
229

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
was reinforced by religious fanaticism. In the eyes
of these, Indians were "Canaanites," and as such
ought righteously to be put to the sword wher
ever found. Going to find them, they began con
veniently by massacring a small group of harmless
(apparently Christianised) Indians, who for about
two generations had lived in close neighbourhood
and in daily intercourse with the white settlers.
Them the " Paxton Boys " killed and scalped on one
December dawn, and burned their village to the
ground. Those who escaped on this occasion fell
victims a few days later, when the same band broke
into the building at Lancaster in which the poor fugi
tives had been placed by the local magistrate for safety.
Young and old, women and chUdren, all were put
to the hatchet. These outrages created a profound
horror throughout the province ; yet the ruffians
were not without their discreet sympathisers and
their smug priestly apologists. Franklin, who had
just returned from his tour, virtually took the pro
vince into his private charge at this juncture,
and carried it, as nobody else could have done,
through a most ominous passage of its history. He
first used his pen and press to admirable purpose in
rallying to the cause of humanity the ineffective
virtues of the quieter people, and in putting the
respectable sympathisers and apologists of massacre
out of countenance. He next, as the need arose,
improvised a civU guard of a thousand men, for the
defence of a terrified congregation of Christian
Indians who had come, led by their Moravian pastor,
to seek protection in Philadelphia. By and by the
Paxton people advanced, heavily armed and in
hunting gear, breathing wrath and tags of Scripture,
to take these refugees in the heart of the city and
scalp them where they stood. Frankhn and his
men were prepared to fight to the death if need be ;
yet he was loath to shed the blood even of a
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HIS LATER LIFE
" Paxton Boy " if he could help it. So when the
rabble of terrorists was within a mile or two of the
city, he went out, accompanied only by a couple of
dtizens, to meet and confer with them. The effect
of that conference, in which he took a very high
and severe tone, such as these wild but vigorous-
minded men would respect, was that they recognised
the odds as well as the argument against them, and
went home. So there was an end of that trouble,
thanks to the courage and character of a single man.
Troubles of a more familiar sort speedily ensued.
In October 1763, a new governor had arrived in the
person of a nephew of the Proprietors. A nephew of
the Proprietors meant a grandson of the revered
Founder, so no appointment could have been more
pleasing to Pennsylvanian feelings. The sending of
a member of the famUy to reside among them was
taken to be an augury that the days of conflict were
at an end ; that an era of conciliation, good under
standing, and co-operation between Proprietors and
people, was about to begin. Governor Penn was
received in Pennsylvania as an English royal prince
would be received in any English colony to-day ;
and in this instance, at least, the gratified Assembly
made all haste to "consider the question of the
Governor's support." Unfortunately this enthusiasm
was misplaced, and these hopes were illusory.
During the Paxton affair, the new Governor played
a very weak part, and was fain to take up his abode
in Franklin's house till the trouble was over. When
business was resumed, it began to appear that he
had his " instructions," like any other. The result was
such a series of vetoes and interferences that by the
middle of March 1764 the Assembly was brought
into a state of sheer paralysis or arrest of its functions
as a legislative body. After this disappointment of
such generous hopes, a sort of desperation prevaUed.
It seemed that nothing could be done at all with
231

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
that family. The obvious alternative, then, was to
do without it ; if only it could be got rid of. So
the Assembly adjourned until May 14th. The
recess was devoted to a political campaign concerned
with only one point: namely "Whether an humble
address should be drawn up and transmitted to his
Majesty ; praying that his Majesty would be
graciously pleased to take the people of this pro
vince under his immediate protection and govern
ment." It was found that an overwhelming
majority of the freeholders was in favour of the
change of constitution which this pointed to. It had
been powerfully advocated by Franklin in a timely
pamphlet which was widely read throughout Penn
sylvania during the recess. In this he had reviewed,
not for the first or last time, the history of their
constitutional conflict, and argued cogently that
there was something wrong in the system which
led to such results.
" For though it is not unlikely that in these as well as
other disputes there are faults on both sides, every glowing
coal being apt to inflame its opposite ; yet I see no reason
to suppose that all proprietary rulers are worse men than
other rulers, nor that all people in proprietary governments
are worse people than those in other governments. 1
suspect, therefore, that the cause is radical, interwoven in
the constitution, and so become the very nature, of pro
prietary governments ; and will therefore produce its effects
so long as such government continue."
That was a very exciting year in the poHticd
history of Pennsylvania, and Franklin's pen was very
busy, to good literary as well as controversial pur
pose. Suffice it, however, to say here that when a
new Assembly met in October the business of
appointing an agent to carry the petition to the King
was at once taken up. For this duty Franklin was
chosen, in spite of an impassioned endeavour of the
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HIS LATER LIFE
small but influentid proprietary party in the House
to have someone " less dangerous " — that is, less
likely to succeed — employed in the hateful and fate
ful business. November 7 found Frankhn setting
out for Chester, on the Delaware, where he was to
embark for England. A cavdcade of five hundred
citizens brought him on the way, who was crossing
the seas to serve them dl. With good weather to
help, the ship made a quick voyage, and on December
9 he was dehvered (dehvered, indeed ! for a sea
voyage in those days was a hard imprisonment, from
which he was especially apt to suffer) on to kindly
English ground. Posting from Portsmouth to
London he was soon established at his old quarters
in Craven Street, receiving his delighted, astonished,
thrice-welcoming friends once more.
From this point the Pennsylvanian question ceases
to have actuality, even for the biographer of
Franklin. It has henceforth only a retrospective
interest, as it is seen to have supplied a kind of
rehearsal in little of that larger constitutional con-
ffict with which the Great Pennsylvanian was to be
so memorably associated. In this new conflict, the
place of Pennsylvania is taken by the whole of the
American colonies ; and the place of the Proprietors,
infatuated in their assertion of unjust and impossible
prerogatives, is taken by our good King George the
Third. The historic course of events which solved
the greater question disposed of the lesser one by a
sort of immediate inference, since the privileges of
the vassal-despot in a distant dependency could not
weU survive the deposition of his sovereign. It
needs only to be said here that Franklin, once
arrived in England, was soon advised how unfavour
able the moment was for pressing the business on
which he had come. And although the petition of
the Assembly was duly presented, and references to
the probability or improbability of some impending
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
result thereof appear from time to time in FrankJin's'
correspondence, we may practically consider the
question as having been in abeyance from now untU
the Fourth of July 1776 : when an end was made of
that old song, and of an older and better one.
The new and greater question referred to above,
was, of course, that of England's right to tax the
colonies by Act of Parliament. The idea had been
mooted more than once during the first part of the
century, but no responsible politician had ever
deigned to take it seriously. In recent years, how
ever, several circumstances had co-operated in
disposing statesmen to accord more respectful
consideration to what had been hitherto a scouted
project. There was, in the first place, that
general strengthening of the ideals of what one
may call governmentalism, already alluded to,
which began to be effective on the accession of
George the Third. About that time there also
began to be felt a great need for new sources of
revenue ; partly owing to the cost of the war, and
partly because the territorial expansion which that
war led to, carried with it a heavy increase in the
charges of Empire. Finally, the war itself had
shown the resources of the colonists, even their
resources in ready money, to be far greater than
had hitherto been supposed. When, therefore, Mr
Charles Townshend prepared in 1 763 his extensive
plan for organising and governing the colonies : and
when it was known that the said plan would have
for its immediate result and visible token the raising
of a revenue there by taxation imposed from Eng
land, and the planting of a standing army in the heart
of the country, to keep everything and everybody in
good order — of course he had with him at once the
implicit approbation of every man in England who
was by way of being in the current of prevaihng
ideas : that is to say, who was well-informed without
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HIS LATER LIFE
knowledge, and inteUigent without thought. As it
happened, Mr Townshend and his particular set
were somewhat abruptly unseated from the place of
authority ; but the spirit of the time being what I
have sdd, this displacement made little difference in
the plans of government. His successors promptiy
took up his unfinished work. Some months before
Franklin sdled for England, news reached the
colonies that Mr George GrenvUle had intimated his
intention of introducing a bill into Parliament at an
early date, to provide for the raising of a revenue in
America by means of a stamp duty. Colonists were
almost as much astonished as darmed at this tdk of
the Enghsh Parliament imposing taxation upon them ;
who conceived themselves to be within the British
Empire, indeed, but outside that particular redm
which Parliament represented and made laws for.
They were not represented there : therefore they
could not be taxed there. The Assembhes, that of
Pennsylvania among the rest, took steps to formulate
the colonid view, and appeded to the Common Law
of England, the provisions of their charters, and the
custom of the constitution, in support of it. These
views were embodied in loyd and dutiful Resolu
tions, to be transmitted to England, deprecating an
innovation which was felt to be fraught with the
most evU consequences. Franklin brought over the
Resolution of his Assembly, and was further instructed
to co-operate -with the other colonid agents in trying
to get the Ministry to abandon its ill-considered
scheme. And try they did ; but, for aU the effect
they could produce, they might as well have been
at home. An interview with GrenvUle on February
2, 1765, only showed how little common ground,
whether of opinion or feeling, there was to the two
sides, and how httle the best of arguments were hkely
to influence the action of Government. Eleven days
later the biU was read a first time in the House of
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
Commons ; and, despite the brave resistance of a very
small band who stood for sense and liberty, its passage
through both Houses was so easy and rapid that by
the 22nd of March it had received the royal assent
and become law. So that matter was settled, it
seemed. The principle of taxation by Act of
Parliament had been asserted beyond recall. The
only question now open, in the minds of English
politicians and people, was, " How shall we next
apply that principle — what new taxes shall we
impose ? " It was a question that all were asking,
and very many were hastening to answer.
One answer as good as all came from America,
like the muttering of far-off thunder, about six
months later. News of the passing of the Stamp
Act had arrived there at the beginning of July : the
returning packets which reached England at the
beginning of November reported the result. The
whole country was swayed by one universal indig
nation. The separate colonies were drawn together
as they had never been before. Resolutions de
nouncing the new law as tyrannical and unconstitu
tional had been passed by the leading Assemblies.
The people had made a bond with each other to
use no articles of English manufacture, or articles
importedfrom England, until the injustice was undone.
If they had not the doth with which to make their
own clothes, they would wear their old ones until
the new were ready. And in the meantime no
lamb was to be killed for food, but all reared for
their wool, untU the country should be supplied
with the material of the textile and clothing
industries. This, and much else hke this, was
strange news to Enghsh ears. Even Franklin seems
to have been surprised at the vigour and unanimity
of protest. Without waiting for this encourage
ment, however, he had been hard at work since
July trying whether the disastrous measure of the
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HIS LATER LIFE
late government (for GrenvUle and his coUeagues,
they also in turn, had been thrown out of office by
the caprice of their sovereign) could not be cancelled,
even yet. WhUe he was thus employed in England
his fellow-countrymen in America were denouncing
him as the worst of traitors, and rioters were sur
rounding his house in Pennsylvania, where his good
wife was for a while in a state of siege. The
explanation of this curious phenomenon is simple
enough. When the Stamp Act was passed Gren
vUle had sent for the colonid agents and asked them
to help him, for their country's sake as well as the
King's, in a matter of some dehcacy. He was un-
wUling to send persons from England to be collectors
of the revenue arising under the Stamp Act, since
the appearance of these strangers as tax-gatherers
could not but be hurtful to colonid feelings. He
therefore begged that the agents would give him the
names of men of good repute and liking, in their
severd parts of the country, whom he might take
steps to have appointed collectors of this revenue.
For Pennsylvania, Franklin submitted the name of
Mr John Hughes, but in doing so he neither
signified his own approval of the Act nor his opinion
that Mr Hughes would accept the post if it were
offered him. Folk in America, however, gathered
only that Hughes had been appointed coUector under
the hateful Act, and that his nomination, if not the
Act itself, was Frankhn's work. Hence the emotion
and the riot aforesdd. The riot did no great harm
to him or his, and the emotion gave place to more
worthy feelings when the truth of the matter came
home, as it did, by a later ship.
Meanwhile Franklin was working away, inter
viewing ministers and other public men — "ex
plaining, consulting, disputing, in a continual
hurry from morning till night" — during all the
second hdf of that year and the first weeks of the
237

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
next one. The new government consisted mainly
of friends of America, many of them persond
friends of his. The most powerful friend of aU,
however, was the enormous section of the British
mercantile and manufacturing class, which found
itself being ruined by the sudden disappearance of
i\merica as a market for British goods. These good
men passed from astonishment to dismay, and from
dismay to desperation ; and before the end was
reached, their clamours filled the lobbies of the
House of Commons. Ministers saw that there was
nothing for it but to reped the unfortunate Act, at
aU costs to the pride of the people, or the self-will of
the King. To strengthen its hands before attempt
ing to do so, the Ministry held a famous Enquiry at
the beginning of the year 1 766. A Committee of
the whole House sat for many days receiving evidence
from men of every dass, occupation, and description,
who had any, even the remotest, experience of, or
connection with, America or American affairs. The
Enquiry is famous, however, mainly on account of
the evidence given in the course of it by one witness,
whose testimony was of so remarkable a character,
and covered so completely the whole ground of the
Committee's reference, that it has extinguished for
us, and really rendered superfluous at the time, that
of all the other witnesses together. Needless to
say, this witness was Benjamin Franklin. Of this
celebrated " Examination of Dr Franklin before the
House of Commons," it would be impossible to
overstate the significance and vdue, whether re
garded as a contribution to a great historic question,
or as a revelation of the many powers of the man
himself. In both respects it was surprising, and in
both respects it created a profound impression both
in this country and in America. In America, it put
new heart and patriotism even into the most fervent ;
in England, it informed those who were already
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HIS LATER LIFE
most deeply informed in American affairs ; and to
those who had long known and admired Franklin it
revealed a compass of qualities, a faultless fulness of
knowledge, and a control equally of his knowledge
and his powers, which went beyond all that they
expected even from him. They were men of affairs,
and some of them men of talent, who examined
him ; and the questions were subtly and searchingly
put, for the purpose of placing him in at least a
momentary difficulty. Yet Edmund Burke could
only compare the whole scene to that of a school
master submitting to be catechised by his pupils.
When Franklin withdrew from the Bar of the House,
the apologists of the Stamp Act had not a solid inch
of ground to stand upon. Ministers were ready to
hug themselves for joy, and him dso. And indeed
he had done their business for them, as all of them
combined could not have done it. His examination
closed on February 1 3. Just eight days later a
Repeding Bill was introduced into Parliament, and,
after a debate of which the eloquence has perished
but the glory and splendour yet somehow abide, as
though it had been fully reported — the bill was
carried through both Houses, and on March 8 it
received the royal and unwilling assent. When the
good news reached America, there was such rejoic
ing as that side of the world had never seen, and
everywhere honour and acclamation attended the
name of Franklin.

But that was a time of quick changes in the
politicd world. They were seldom changes for
the better, and that which now followed proved
one of the most disastrous in English history.
Within four months of its passing the Repeahng
Act, the Rockingham Ministry was wrecked by
239

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
Court influences. Its place was taken, after a time,
by a famous cabinet, of some of the talents and all
the contradictions ; a cabinet which had been put
together by Lord Chatham, but was never presided
over by him. In the absence of any effective head
of the Government, the different departments of
state policy now went their different ways ; and
those concerned with American affairs soon took a
direction as contrary to all that Lord Chatham con
sidered wise or right as well could be. The dispute
with the Colonies was wantonly revived at once,
never to be quieted again till England had lost these
colonies for good, and the world had thereby gained
a new nation. The series of events which led to
this result was initiated by the Mr Charles Towns
hend referred to some pages back, who had entered
the new cabinet as Chancellor of the Exchequer.
As such, it was his business to propose schemes of
taxation ; and the nature of the man himself, as well
as the character of the influences continually brought
to bear upon him, made it inevitable that he should
use his position in order to raise again the question
of getting a revenue out of America and — what was
of infinitely more concern to the feelings, both of
the King and People of this country — of getting it
from taxation imposed upon Americans by the
English Parliament. He addressed himself to this
task with vigour, promptness and ingenuity. On
March 13, 1 767, he laid before the House of
Commons a general view of extensive plans with
regard to America. The nature of the policy then
unfolded is sufficiently indicated by the fact that the
parliamentary door-keepers had orders not to admit
the colonial agents within the precincts on that day.
The House approved heartily of the plans submitted
to it, and directed that bUls embodying them should
be drafted forthwith and introduced. They were
drafted, introduced, and passed, within a month;
240

HIS LATER LIFE
and two months later all America was in a fer
ment. In the banquet of discord which the obliging Mr
Townshend now " set before the King," the Revenue
Act may be considered as the grand piece of provo
cation, the veritable ptice de resistance. It was in
geniously concocted, but I must refer the Reader to
the pages of Burke for a description of the many
ingredients of contradictory motive which it em
bodied without managing to blend them. Three
chief things are to be noted about it. It was an
Act of Parhament, imposing taxation, a thing which
Americans abhorred ; and its preamble asserted the
generd principle which they had contested so
famously. But then, what it imposed was a duty
on imports from Britdn. So, it had an affinity with
the duties dready being paid under the Navigation
Act; the principle of which had been admitted as
constitutiond and just by Franklin in his examination
before the House. But again, the scene of collection
was now to be in America ; so that there should be
no question any more as to the jurisdiction of Parlia
ment, or the vahdity of its Acts, in that country.
The inhabitants would see the tax-gatherer in their
midst, and they would know who had sent him.
Further, the proceeds of the taxes were to go to
form a Civil List ; out of which the governors of
colonies, and presently other officials, were to receive
their salaries /row the King. This innovation would
make the relation of the people to the Governors that
of a subject population in a conquered province to
officials set over them by a distant despot : to whom,
and to whom alone, these Governors would feel
that they owed either respect or kindness. Findly,
it was indicated clearly that this was not the end,
but that more would foUow as occasion served or
the need arose.
SmaU wonder, then, if the resistance opposed to
Q 241

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
this new attack was fierce and general. As the
commotion exceeded that created by the Stamp Act,
so the measures of retaliation proposed were of a
more drastic and defiant kind. Not only was the
non-consumption of British goods again resolved
upon, but the different colonies now decided to set
up all sorts of manufactures for themselves ; not for
the occasion only, but for the rest of time. It is
scarcely possible for us nowadays to conceive how
extreme, how unnatural, how monstrous almost,
this decision of Americans to make for themselves
the pins, naUs, beaver hats and cutlery which they
needed, seemed to honest, home-staying English folk
in those days. Even friends of America felt that
the colonists were going very far indeed ! And
since " all minds were now employed in considering,
all pens in defending, the rights which Mr Towns-
hend's Acts invaded," there presently resulted an
immense intellectual development of the whole sub
ject, a development of all its bearings in the con
sciousness and daily thoughts of men. This in
itself was fast creating an entirely new situation, not
to be nullified by the half-hearted undoing, on the
part of the mother-country, of that which it had
been an insult as well as a wrong to do at all. The
history of the six or eight years that followed might
be set forth as an illustration of this text, and very
full of moral interest it would be. This, however,
is not the place for it, so the Reader can only be
reminded of two or three important dates. One day
in September 1768 — eighteen months after the
passing of the Revenue Act — fourteen British men-
of-war lay with their broadsides towards the town of
Boston, to cover the landing of 700 British soldiers.
"With muskets charged, bayonets fixed, drums
beating, fifes playing, and a complete train of artil
lery," these took possession of the Common, the
State-house, the Court-house, and the Fanueil HaU,
242

HIS LATER LIFE
where those famous town-meetings of the Boston
citizens had been held. An apparition like this did
not bode reconcUiation : but the people being help
less, the peace was kept for a time. About eighteen
months later, however (March 1770), occurred the
affdr between soldiers and populace, known as the
Boston Massacre ; a trivid affdr in itself, but im
mensely dynamic in its moral effects. A little after
this came an incomplete, and therefore ineffective
reped of the Revenue Act ; the tax on tea being
retained for the sake of asserting the principle. But
as Americans, strange to say, still gave no orders for
this taxed tea (though they were really going to
have it cheaper than they had ever had it before)
the Bang induced ministers to have four ship-loads
sent into American ports, thus bringing temptation
very near the door. From New York and Phila
delphia the ships were ignominiously sent back. At
Charleston the people unloaded the tea, and stored
it in cellars, where it perished. But at Boston the
Governor would not permit the ship to clear out
again, as the people demanded that it should ; so a
lawless band, disguised as Red Indians, went aboard
and emptied the cargo into the harbour. This was
in December, 1773 » ^^'^ ''^^^ '^^ England and
America the state of popular feeling was now such
as to leave smdl prospect of a speedy, if indeed of
any, renewal of kindness between colonies and
mother-country. To such a pass had it come, in so
few years. But though the years were few, the
time seemed an era to those who had to bear the
burden and the strain of them ; to those who, like
Franklin, caUed to the difficult part of mediators,
had to deal with each day's difficulties as they could,
every new day in all that time bringing its own
changes of hope and fear.
To treat of Franklin's life during this period with
sufficient fulness to make the account interesting
243

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
would be to write not a biographical sketch but
a very long chapter in general history. The effect
of it aU would be to show that, apart from any
particular transaction in which he may have been
concerned, the mere fact of his presence in England
during those years was a historicd factor of the first
importance. And it was a factor which, so long as
it counted for anything, counted for preservation of
the peace between England and her colonies. His
great intellectual and moral prestige dignified in the
eyes of all, and especially in the eyes of Ministers,
the cause which he stood for ; a cause which might
else have been more summarily dedt with, as official
contempt for the claims of a troublesome pack of
people on the fringe of the Empire might have
dictated. It was impossible to regard in that way
the people who had a Benjamin Franklin for their
advocate and representative man. Frankhn's many
social qualities also, which gained him friendships
even in circles least sympathetic to the American
cause, enabled him to exercise an influence which
cannot be verified in detail, it is true, but the absence
of which for a single season would, we cannot
doubt, have greatly affected the course of events.
And, as a fact, it was not until the hour when that
influence was withdrawn — until the hour when
Franklin, giving up the long struggle -with the
forces of arrogance and blindness, bade farewell to
these shores and sailed for home — that England gave
a head to the counsels of find rigour which changed
her children into enemies and lost her an Empire.
WhUe he remained here, also, his influence with his
countrymen, which was very great in spite of the
distance and in spite of the tendency of the colonists
to suspect ever and again that they were being sold
to the enemy, was of great effect in the service of
moderation. He was as much a patriot as any man
in America, and few in America had such a reasoned
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HIS LATER LIFE
faith as he in the justice of his country's claims
and her power to make them ultimately prevaU.
But at the same time he knew also the great
ness of England, and was acquainted with those
good qualities of the English people which were
not apparent for the moment in its politicd re
lations to America. Therefore, while urging
his countrymen not to grow fdnt in maintaining
their rights by all constitutional means — and
especially by persisting in their non-importation
resolutions with a unanimity which would leave no
doubt of their being in earnest — he was none the
less explicit in his disapprobation of all those (they
were a smdl but dangerous band) whose idea of
patriotism tended to express itself in words of
provocation and acts of violence, whereby concilia
tion would be made more difficult. Thus it came,
that while some in England, flnding that Franklin,
for all his reasonableness, was as firm as bed-rock
on the great principles at issue, described him regret
fully as being " too much of an American" for their
purposes — at this very time the more forward set
among his countrymen were apt to insinuate that,
after dl, Franklin was " too much of an Enghshman"
to be really heart and soul with the patriots in
America. This absurdity, however, which was the
property of a few, belongs to the later and more
morbid stages of the disagreement. Upon the
whole, his prestige was as high amongst his country
men at this time as it was in Europe, and by the
year 1 770 he found himself invested with the Agent-
ship for four of the colonies. The Agentship for
Massachusetts, especially, gave him a good deal of
difficult work to do, owing to the great part played
by that province in the events which developed the
Revolution. For a time, indeed, he was able to do
httle in the matter, since that self-conscious, vain,
and vaciUating would-be martinet of office. Lord
245

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
HUlsborough,^ refused to recognise his appointment
as vaUd. Franklin has left a most dramaticaUy-
written minute of their famous interview, in which
the whole man Hillsborough, both the individual
and the type, is set before us with almost creative
talent. Franklin's studies of the course of action in
the years of Lord Hillsborough's management of
colonial affairs are all summed up in an essay called
" Rules for Reducing a Great Empire to a Small
One." This had an immense success at the time,
and was at once so matterful and so spirited in com
position that Franklin himself was very well pleased
to have been the author of it. It was reprinted as a
pamphlet in London twenty-six years later, in order
to meet a steady public demand for copies, when the
things it referred to were very ancient history
indeed. Another literary jeu d' esprit of this period
(1770-3) was " An Edict by the King of Prussia:"
a very sly composition, in which that German
potentate was represented as claiming to impose
upon England (a country long ago colomsed by
emigrants from his dominions) those duties and
burdens of obedience and tribute which England
was actually seeking to impose on America. This
thing was cast in the form of an exciting piece
of newspaper intelligence, enclosing a verbatim
version of the alleged startling edict. Scores of
well-informed folk were deceived by it for some
thing more than a moment, and thousands were
amused for at least a week. As for Lord Hills
borough, Franklin was instrumental in having him
removed from office, in July 1772 ; and had some
influence in the choice of Lord Dartmouth as his
successor. A better choice could not have been
made, if good-disposition towards all parties, and an
honest desire to be useful, and to conciliate, had
1 Appointed, at the end of 1768, head of the newly-created
department called the Colonial Office.
246

HIS LATER LIFE
been qudifications enough for the post. But Dart
mouth, as it proved, had not that independence of
judgment and that force of character that would
have been needed to undo, and to undo quickly
enough, the evU which had been done during Hills^
borough's four years' term of office. Though there
was now better ground for hope, fulfilment some
how tarried; and meantime matters were moving
apace at the other side of the world. At this
criticd juncture it was that England, in a momentary
indulgence of all that is worst in her national temper,
saw fit to deprive herself of the services of the
one man whose presence here made conciliation still
possible, the one man who was capable, even yet, of
holding the Empire together.
One day towards the close of 1772, Frankhn was
talking to a friend, a member of Parliament, about
American affdrs. He spoke with some warmth of
the recklessness of ministers in persisting as they
did in a policy of provocations and reprisals ; to
which he could see no end save a complete change
and dienation of American feeling towards England.
It was possible for him, he said, residing in this
country and knowing the people, to view the various
ill-advised acts of policy as merely the acts of poli
ticians, and to dlow a great deal for personal char
acter and for personal purposes. But in America^
men could take little account of such considerations,
even if they were in the temper to do so. They
would only see, in dl that had been attempted or
done in the name of this country during recent
years, an expression of the feelings towards them of
the British people. His friend replied that Franklin
was in error in assuming that ministers were entirely
to blame, or that the policy which had worked so
badly had been originated solely by them. He could
assure him that the measures which he more par
ticularly complained of — the introduction of an
247

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
Enghsh soldiery to overawe the people, and the
rendering of Glovernors, Judges, and other officials,
dependent on the King for their salaries — had been
first urged upon ministers by natives of that country,
resident in the country, and held in the highest
respect there. In proof of what he then said, he
brought to Franklin some days later the batch of
correspondence known to history as the Hutchinson
Letters. These were a series of letters which had been
written, during the years 1 768 and 1769, by Thomas
Hutchinson and Andrew Oliver, to a correspondent
in this country. The name of this correspondent
had been carefully erased before the documents were
placed in Franklin's hands ; but the general drift
and subject-matter of the letters indicated clearly
enough that they were meant to meet the eyes of
someone in a position to influence the plans of
Government towards America. It may be expldned
at once (what Franklin did not know tiU later) that
they had been addressed to Mr William Whateiy, a
member of Parliament, then lately deceased. At the
time when the letters were written, Hutchinson was
Lieutenant-Governor and Chief- Justice, and Ohver
was Secretary, of the colony of Massachusett's Bay ;
while Whateiy was then private secretary to Mr
George GrenvUle, of Stamp Act renown. Though
ostensibly addressed to Whateiy, the letters had
really been written for Grenville's information and
misguidance. That gentleman was not himself in
the Government in 1768-9, but many of his friends
were ; and to him and those friends the writers
looked to have the policy which they recommended
brought into force. As a fact, they had not looked
in vain. There was a strong family resemblance
between the recommendations of Messrs Hutchinson
and Oliver and the recent measures of the British
Government ; nor could any bureaucrat seated at
248

HIS LATER LIFE
the heart of an Empire have greater fdth in the
blessed efficacy of vigour and rigour, rigour and
vigour, than those denaturdised natives of a distant
province. Lieutenant-Governor Hutchinson is here
found bravely declaring his conviction that " there
must be some abrogation of Enghsh liberties" in
that part of the world ; while Mr Oliver has an
ingenious scheme for getting rid, in some degree, of
the prevaUing prejudice in favour of social equality,
and so arresting that democratic tendency wWch is
such a lamentable feature of colonid life. It is
urged again and again that a sufficient stand of
imperid troops ought to be kept in the country, to
support the governors in enforcing whatever new
laws might be imposed invito populo. Perhaps the
most mischievous feature of these letters, however,
was the fact that they so seriously misrepresented to
the home authorities the state of public feehng in
America. That there was any general or national
sentiment in the country was ignored or explicitly
denied. The opposition to the Revenue Act, it
seemed, was limited to a prominent minority of the
population ; and behind the recent display of resist
ance there was nothing but the personal influence of
a few agitators. These, of course, could be removed
by the exercise of a littie proper vigour — and then !
Altogether of this nature, in a word, were the
Hutchinson Letters. That they had a considerable
influence cannot be doubted, even though one may
hold that things would have gone almost equdly
astray without the misdirections which they afforded.
We know, as a fact, that King George, who had so
great a part in aU that was attempted in those years
in regard to America, attached particular value to
the opinions of Mr Hutchinson. That gentleman
had now been advanced to the Governorship, with
Ohver succeeding him in the lieutenancy. Thus the
pair were stUl undivided. Governor Hutchinson
249

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
was at that moment (end of 1772) in high conflict
with the Assembly and people of Massachusetts, and
was indeed making no little trouble for the home
Government by the provocative attitude which he
maintained. But our concern is with Franklin. The reading
of these letters produced upon him an impression at
first startling and painful, and yet in the end restora
tive and cheering. It was painful indeed to discover
that such counsels as these had been secretly sent to
England by men who were Americans born ; to know
that the forces of coercion had received not only
support but persistent prompting from those who,
by ancestry, birth-place, up-bringing, social standing,
and official position, were called upon, more than
most others, to be the sympathetic interpreters of
their countrymen's views to the English Government.
In making themselves the mouthpiece of views so
adverse, they had done evil to their country. And
the evil had been done in a clandestine way which
invested the whole correspondence, in the eyes of a
patriot like Franklin, with an additional character of
baseness, of conspiracy, almost of treason. But then,
just in proportion as Hutchinson and Oliver were to
be condemned, in that degree, also, was the English
Government to be exonerated. It was liable enough
to go wrong of its own initiative ; and the English
character is more prone than others, the world
admits, to arrogance and self-righteousness. But it
was somewhat to be excused, surely, for not doubt
ing its own justice and reasonableness, in relation
to the recalcitrant colonists, when it found native
Americans, of the standing of Hutchinson and Oliver,
hastening to recommend just the kind of foofish
strong measures towards which it was spontaneously
carried by its own share and portion in the original sin
of all governing Powers. For Franklin, these letters
threw a flood of light upon the poUtical events of
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HIS LATER LIFE
the past few years, and it is possible he may even
have over-estimated their significance and influence.
They showed, at any rate, that those measures which
were most bitterly resented by the Colonists had
been long advocated and preached in the secret ear
of Government by responsible Americans, whose
opinions could not but carry great weight with
Enghsh ministers. From this discovery it followed,
that there was at once less cause for anger and less
reason for despdr than there had lately seemed to
be, even to Franklin. His own vast patience had
begun to feel the strain and the wear of those years ;
and across the ocean English injustice, as it was
considered, was fast creating a new America, an
America very full of anti-British feeling. This
was very unlike that land as he had known it,
and the change was to him sincerely regrettable. It
was dso a menace ; for it might presently gather
sufficient force to make the pace in that country, and
then the hopes of reconciliation would be small
indeed. To avert this, and to neutralise the growing
sense of a nationd animosity, Frankhn considered
that no means would serve so powerfully as the
conveying to the leaders of opinion in America that
new knowledge, that new side-light upon the whole
situation, which had just come to him, and had
affected his own feelings so favourably, so forgiv
ingly, towards those who were responsible in this
country. He begged permission to send these letters
to America. After some delay, permission was
granted; and on December 2, 1772, he enclosed
them in his usual official dispatch, addressed to the
secretary of the committee of correspondence of
Massachusetts Assembly. He was not at liberty to
explain whom he had them from : they were not to
be copied or printed: and when they had been
shown to the leading men of the popular party, they
were to be returned to this country. On aU these
251

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
points he had, and transmitted to his correspondent,
explicit instructions.
There is not space here to follow the letters in
their wanderings. Suffice it, that they were shown
to many men and some women, and that their presence
in America, if not their precise import, was soon the
secret of a whole continent. The effect was every
where what Franklin had anticipated : rage against
Hutchinson ; kindlier feelings towards England than
had prevaUed for many months. They were duly
returned after a time ; but, Franklin's instructions
notwithstanding, they had got into print in America.
Copies found their way over here, the newspapers
gave them in full, there was a great deal of annoy
ance in the officid world, a great deal of tdk
about the matter everywhere. In all of which
there was nothing that called for Franklin's inter
vention. But just when the nine-days' wonder was
ready to die down, it suddenly started off into a new
and untoward career of thrilling interest. Mr Thomas
Whateiy announced in the newspapers that the
letters so much spoken of had been written to his
late brother ; and as good as said that they had been
stolen from the executors by Mr John Temple. Mr
Temple thereupon challenged Mr Whateiy to fight.
Fight they did at dawn of a December day, in Hyde
Park, and Whateiy was badly wounded. On re
turning to town (he had been in the country for a
few days) Frankhn heard of this duel, and heard dso
that the gentlemen were going to fight again. He
therefore sat down and promptly wrote the following
letter : — "To THE Printer of the Public Advertiser.
" Sir, — Finding that two gentlemen have been unfortunately
engaged in a duel, about a transaction and its circumstances, of
which both of them are totally ignorant and innocent, I think it
incumbent upon me to declare (for the prevention of farther
mischief, as far as such a declaration may contribute to prevent
it) that I alone am the person who obtained and transmitted to
252

HIS LATER LIFE
Boston the letters in question. Mr W. could not communicate
them, because they were never in his possession ; and, for the
same reason, they could not be taken from him by Mr T. They
were not of the nature of private letters between friends. They
were written by public officers to persons in public stations, on
public affairs, and intended to procure public measures ; they were
therefore handed to other public persons, who might be influenced
by them to produce those measures. Their tendency was to incense
the mother-country against her Colonies, and, by the steps recom
mended, to widen the breach ; which they effected. The chief
caution expressed with regard to privacy was, to keep their
contents from the Colony agents, who, the writers apprehended,
might return them, or copies of them, to America. That
apprehension was, it seems, well founded ; for the first Colony
agent who laid his hands on them thought it his duty to transmit
them to his constituents. "B. FRANKLIN,
** Agent for the House of Representatives of Massachusetts Bay,
" Craven Street, December 25th, 1773.''
By this announcement, a new surprise sprang out
of this surprising, if not sensational, subject. But
the greatest sensation was yet to come. Franklin
had not expected his letter to have any other effect
than the preventing of possible homicide, and every
body thought he had acted with spirit and propriety
in the matter. He was soon to find that he had
delivered himself into the hands of enemies. Personal
enemies, it is true, he had none in England, and of
friends he had a great many. But the cause which he
represented was becoming more and more obnoxious
and exasperating to those in power. Which means
that a growing sense of their own incapacity to deal
with the situation which they had made for them
selves, agdnst aU wise advice, had begun already to
render them morbid. Those who were disappointed
at finding Frankhn "too much of an American,"
were apt also to tell themselves, when matters came
to this stage, and as their troubles thickened, that if
it were not for that disobliging, therefore ill-dis
posed Frankhn, those troubles would not exist at
dl. It is natural to the human mind to hate a
253

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
just man; and equdly natural to those who find
themselves vainly battling against a moral principle
and the wishes of a people, to assume that the
interpreter and spokesman of the insurgent moral
will is the sole maker of all the mischief. These
and other determinants may have been at work.
Certain it is that official England now thought it saw
a possibility of damaging the American cause in the
person of its most Ulustrious exponent ; and, no kind
god preventing, it hurriedly took the foolish business
in hand.
It had been Franklin's duty some months
previously to present a Petition from the Massa
chusetts Assembly, praying that his Majesty
would be graciously pleased to remove from
their official positions Governor Hutchinson and
Lieutenant-Governor Oliver, as being men who
had wrought to make misunderstanding and dis-
peace between the different parts of his Majesty's
dominions. Months passed, and no result of
this petition was forthcoming. But now Franklin
received on Saturday, January 8, 1774, ^ brief
and sudden intimation that this petition was to
be considered by the Lords of Committee (to
whom it had been referred by the King) on
the following Tuesday ; when he, as agent for
the Assembly, was commanded to attend. Late
on Monday afternoon it was intimated to him
that Messrs Hutchinson and Oliver were to be
heard by counsel. This was short notice of an
unusual procedure, not to say a startling fact.
At the meeting he at once raised that point,
submitting that the matter before their Lordships
was "a question of civU or political prudence,"
upon which their Lordships were " already perfect
judges, and could receive no assistance in it from
the' arguments of counsel." If counsel was heard
on the one side, however, it ought also to be
254

HIS LATER LIFE
heard on the other. He therefore craved their
Lordships to appoint a further day for the hear
ing, that he might have an opportunity of in
structing counsel on behalf of his chents. A
further hearing was accordingly appointed for
Saturday the 29th of that month.
Brief as the proceedings at this meeting had
been, they left little room for doubt that some
very bad intentions towards himself were pre
paring their hour. An inkling that this was so
became curiously diffused ; and the Press of this
country hastened to assume an exceedingly sym
pathetic attitude towards these intentions, what
ever they might be. Franklin suddenly found
himself an object of generd attack, and very
precise reports reached him as to the nature and
upshot of the performance which had been
arranged for the 29th.
After some difficulty in finding a suitable counsel,
he secured the famous John Dunning, afterwards Lord
Ashburton ; a lawyer of the highest intellectual power,
but too often unable to do himself justice owing to
his many physical fraUties, Dunning promptly set
aside the elaborate brief which Franklin's solicitor
had prepared, and decided that their case could not be
better argued than on the ground taken up by Franklin
himself at the first meeting of the Committee.
On the morning of the 29th there was a general
movement of high political London towards the
Cockpit, as the building was called, in which these
Privy Council meetings were held. The attend
ance of Privy Councillors on this occasion was
dmost unprecedented : thirty-five in all sat round
the table, which extended down the middle of
the large oblong room. There was, besides, a
large gathering of members of Parliament and
other public men, and a few private persons whose
distinction or connections had gdned them admit-
255

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
tance. Amongst the former was Edmund Burke,
amongst the latter Dr Priestley and Jeremy Bentham.
Everyone except the Privy Councillors had to stand
during the whole proceedings. Frankhn stood near
the fireplace at the upper end of the room, motionless
and erect, for a space of three hours. A few paces
off, by the Lord President's chair, stood the hero of
the occasion, Alexander Wedderburn, whom Mr
Israel Mauduit, the solidtor for Hutchinson and Oliver,
had engaged as counsel. He had been engaged for his
special talents, which though not of the kind that
make men honoured, were of the kind that may
render them useful for purposes of a sort. By the
exercise of these talents in the support of evU causes
he rose ultimately to be a peer and the Lord Chan
cellor of England. Then he died, hated and despised
even by those who had used him longest. No
human being in his own or subsequent times has had
a good word to say for Alexander Wedderburn.
Even Mr Doyle, who writes American history from
an English, not to say a Georgian, point of view,
freely gives Wedderburn to the dogs. Even Mr
Lecky, who is astonishingly unjust to Franklin in
his account of this affair, calls Wedderburn the Belial
of his profession. Even George the Third, whom
he served so well — until he ratted from him in turn
— said, upon hearing of his death, as first Earl of
Rosslyn, twenty-four years later : " Then he has
not left a worse man behind him." This was
the creature who had been put forward on this
public occasion to browbeat and insult one of the
most illustrious and most honoured characters of that
age — an old man, and one doubly entitled to respect
not only on account of his own great qudities and
his services to humanity, but because he was one in
whom an entire people was proud to see itself repre
sented to the world. Aged just forty-one years at
this time, Wedderburn had already made more than
256

HIS LATER LIFE
a beginning of his career of contemptible success,
being now Solicitor-Generd in succession to Thur-
low, that other infamy of the woolsack.
The preliminaries having been gone through,
Dunning opened his case. In a very brief speech —
in which he dmed chiefly at placing the question at
issue upon a ground where it would not be necessary
to touch the dangerous topic of politicd rights and
wrongs as between colonies and mother-country —
he submitted that " the Assembly did not come
before the throne demanding justice ; they appealed
to the wisdom and goodness of their Sovereign.
They asked ?i favour, which the King could grant or
refuse." Tbe Governor and Lieutenant-Governor
had lost the confidence of the people ; the petition
was there as the expression of that feeling. But,
" no cause was thereby instituted, no prosecution
was intended. ... As the Assembly had no im
peachment to make, so they had no evidence to
offer." Though this was one of Dunning's bad days,
and he could scarcely speak so as to be heard, the
impression created by this unexpected line of argu
ment was distinctly favourable. Yet in proportion
as the spirit of it was magnanimous and wise, it
really gave the case into the hands of the unscrupu
lous Wedderburn. That hero advanced to his task
as to a scenic display, a declamation, or a prize-fight.
The speech which he proceeded to dehver showed
the highest abilities of the lowest kind, and is worthy
of a more careful analysis than can be given to it
here. It began with a passage in which he magnified
the legal and constitutional importance of his case,
and at the same time contrived to appeal powerfully
at the very outset to the prejudices, political and
national, of the auditory which he addressed. He
then passed to a laudation of Governor Hutchinson,
from which that gentleman issued in an anointed con
dition, with a brevet of utter blamelessness,that would
R 257

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
have astonished himself. His ancestry, his training,
his own inherent virtues, his studies, his experience,
his disposition towards the people of Massachusetts —
all conspired to make him, it seemed, the ideal of
what a governor should be. A review of his career
in that office justified these expectations, exemplified
these virtues. At this point the speaker cleverly
avaUed himself of Dunning's admission that no
impeachment was made by the Assembly, that no
evidence was offered. " All that the members of
this hostile Assembly can say is that they do not
like Governor Hutchinson ! " It would have required
less cleverness than Wedderburn's to make this point
tell, as he did. He was now able to make a transi
tion to the subject of the letters, a subject which
was, nevertheless, entirely foreign to the business of
that meeting. If it was the case, he said, that the
Governor and his colleague had in some degree lost
that universal confidence which had hitherto belonged
to them, the fact was due solely to the mischievous
sending of their letters to Boston by Franklin. " Dr
Franklin therefore," he said, " stands in the light of
the first mover and prime conductor of this whole
contrivance against his Majesty's two governors ; "
and he went on to describe Franklin as having come
to that meeting with the sinister purpose of putting
the finishing touches to his diabolical work. He
next enlarged with astounding effrontery upon the
alleged private character of the famous letters. "How
those letters," he said, " came into the possession
of anyone but the right owners, is a mystery
for Dr Frankhn to explain." After speaking with
emotion of his own intimate acquaintance with
the lamented Whateiy — and of that gentleman's ex
ceptional discreetness, especially in regard to all his
correspondence — and of the profound pain of his
brothers at finding the said Letters had fallen into
evil hands — he continued thus : " These Letters, I
258

HIS LATER LIFE
beheve, were in his custody at his death ; and I as
firmly believe that without fraud they could not
have been got out of the custody of the person
whose hands they feU into. The Letters, I say,
could not have come to Dr Franklin by fair means.
The writers did not give them to him ; nor yet did
the deceased correspondent. Nothing then wUl
acquit Dr Franklin of the charge of obtaining them
by fraudvUent or corrupt means, for the most mdig-
nant purposes : unless he stole them from the person who
stole them." Then the orator, his indecency accumu
lating momentum as he went, hdf turned towards
the venerable phUosopher and thundered thus ; " I
hope, my lords, you wiU mark and brand the man,
for the honour of this country — of Europe — and of
mankind ! He has forfeited all the respect of
societies and of men. Into what company will he
hereafter go with an unembarrassed face, or the
honest intrepidity of virtue ? Men will watch him
with a jealous eye. They wUl hide their papers
from him, and lock up their escritoires. He will
henceforth esteem it a libel to be cdled a Man-of-
Letters : this Man of Three Letters ! " This classical
dlusion,^ by which he publicly called Franklin a
Thief in the presence of half the political and social
power of England — it was reckoned the intellectual
triumph of that great display ! And perhaps we
should come away from the feast with the taste of
that sweet morsel in our mouths. One famous
passage, however, must be quoted. After having
descanted, with overflowing unction, upon the
injury done to the memory of Mr Whateiy — the
unhappiness caused to the surviving members of
that affectionate famUy by the desecration of their
archives — the subsequent confusions which had
^ To a well-known tag of learning, taken from Plautus : in one
of whose plays a thief (Latin, yar) is called Homo trium litterarum
(" A man of three letters "). 259

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
almost involved the lives of other men — the peril of
murder which his own respected friend had barely,
very barely, escaped — he then proceeded to set
Franklin's letter to the Morning Advertiser in a
surprising new light : as the act of a gloating fiend.
" After the mischiefs of this concealment had been
left for five months to have their full operation . . .
at length comes out a letter, which it is impossible to
read without horror, expressive of the coolest and
most deliberate malevolence. My lords, what poetic
fiction only had penned for the breast of a cruel
African, Dr Franklin has realised and transcribed
from his own. His, too, is the language of a
Zanga. " 'Know then, 'twas— 71
/ forged the letter — / disposed the picture
/hated — / despised — and I destroy \ '"
The remaining passages were equally worthy, and
some of them more subtle, but none had the arrest
ing and terrific character of this great outburst.
What is of more importance to record is that no one
arrested the orator in his flagrant career. No one
took exception to the irrelevance, the gross im
propriety, of intruding the subject of the Letters
into the business of that place and hour, and of
giving the proceedings the complexion of an im
peachment of Dr Frankhn. Least of all did any of
these representatives of the King and the Law, the
Constitution and the honour of England, resent the
astonishing indecency and brutality of this attack
upon a man so eminent, and who, had he been the
lowest of criminals, was not there upon his trial.^
The assembled Privy CouncUlors, from the Lord
President downwards, manifested the utmost pleasure
^ As a fact, the question of the Letters was then strictly sub
Judice, a Chancery suit with regard to them having been instituted
by Whateiy. The suit was not persevered in ; those who had
instigated the bringing of it having, as it turned out, managed
to get their business done sufficiently well at the Cockpit.
260

HIS LATER LIFE
in the whole entertainment, and accompanied their
creature through dl his grosser passages with a
chorus of encouragements, laughter and applause.
Of dl the members of the Court and Coercion party
in that room. Lord North himself, it is recorded,
was the only man who behaved becomingly through
out, short of actually interfering. The Privy
CouncUlors, however, were the more worthy re
presentatives of their country, as its temper and
feehng were then : for the enthusiasm with which
men read the printed speech a few days later was
absolute and nationd. To return, however. When
Wedderburn ceased, the proceedings were at an
end. Dunning essayed some kind of reply ; but
the fatigues of standing three hours were alone
enough to have rendered him, as he now was,
physicdly non-effective. The meeting broke up in
a buzz of excitement. Franklin moved from the
place in which he had stood — motionless, statuesque,
attentive — during dl that time. In passing out, he
dasped the hand of an old friend, but said nothing,
and went home alone. That was about one o'clock
on Saturday. At the hour of breakfast on Monday,
he received a curt and formal intimation that the
King " had found it necessary " to dismiss him from
the office of Postmaster-General for America. So
no time had been lost ! Nay, the report of the
Committee was dated on Saturday, and had, likely
enough, been draughted and ready before the
hearing took place. It was a fitting sequel and
souvenir of that well-arranged and admirably carried-
out performance. It condemned the Petition and
the petitioners in tumid and aggressive terms, and
went aside to make a cowardly attack upon Dr
Franklin. The hearing had been a farce ; the report
was a falsehood. But both were intended for the
Pubhc ; and both reached their mark and made their
impression. Which is the highest and happiest suc-
261

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
cess of state-craft among a people delighting to
think itself free.
Franklin had shown an astonishing self-command
during the whole of the scene just described ; nor
did his strength or dignity forsake him for a moment
in the days that followed. He made no pretence of
not being moved, but how deeply he was moved we
can only guess. He was, at least, as much astounded
as shocked, he was more concerned than angry ; for
he thought of what it all meant, what it was meant
to mean for his country. It was America that was
insulted in him ; and the temper signified by Wed
derburn's speech, and still more by the delight with
which that speech was heard, promised little con
sideration for any new petitions or protests that
might be forwarded to England. As to the attack
upon himself, he set about preparing a reply to it ;
but the serious aspect which public affairs soon
developed, and the rate at which things began to
move, soon drew off his attention from what was a
comparatively personal and negligible wrong. He
felt sure that time would right him. And it has
done so, long ago, in the judgment of all the world,
except a few good men in this country who still
cherish the political views and the personal dislikes
which were an anchronism and a misfortune when
George the Third was King, Make the best of it
that we may, the 29th of January 1 774 was a dis
graceful day for England. Whether it was also a
fateful day, is a question quickly asked, but not to be
answered in a word. I do not think myself that
Franklin really became, on that day and in his secret
soul — neither on that day nor for long afterwards —
that which he was called later, not without merit,
the arch-rebel of the Revolution. What took place
at that time was this : his inherited, compulsive,
active, much-contriving love for England received a
blow, from which it never again recovered. There
262

HIS LATER LIFE
remdned only, to carry him through his task as
mediator, that general benevolence of intention, that
desire to save and to serve, which he had towards
dl the human family. So he worked for a while
longer, as we shall see ; but perhaps the strength of
the heart was not in these labours. One somehow
regards the twelvemonth which he was still to pass
in England as being merely an empty interval be
tween his issuing from the Cockpit and his step
ping on board the ship that was to carry him home.
Still more did it seem so to his contemporaries,
who knew nothing of the secret labours which
engaged him during that interval. Their imagina
tion leapt the space separating the Privy Council
outrage and the Declaration of Independence, and
saw these two events as a dramatic sequence of
historic cause and effect, historic crime and punish
ment. And there is a sense in which they were
right. There is a sense in which there is literal
truth in the famous epigram of Horace Walpole :
Sarcastic Sawney, swoU'n with spite and prate,
On silent Franklin poured his venal hate.
The calm philosopher, without reply.
Withdrew, and gave his country liberty 1
But, as already indicated, before he withdrew he
assisted loyally in some further efforts to avert the
rupture that was fast becoming " inevitable." For
a study of his character these months are worthy
of close attention; but as nothing of historical im
portance came of all that was attempted, we may
pass quickly here. After the Privy CouncU affair,
Franklin kept as much as possible aloof from
ministers and their social circle, though going into
general society as much as formerly. The effect of
his abstention was soon felt, and ere the year was
out both sides in pohtics were seeking his aid. To
the latter half of 1774 and the beginning of 1775
belongs Chatham's memorable intervention, when he
263

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
threw off the load of sickness and came to the rescue,
if rescue there stiU might be, of the State. He
worked hard and studiously at the great problem for
severd months ere coming forward with his solution ;
and during that time he had frequent long consulta
tions with Franklin, both at his own place in Kent
and at Franklin's lodging in Craven Street. On
January 31, 1775, he submitted to the House of
Lords the resolution which he considered was the
necessary first step in any overtures of conciliation :
" That the troops be withdrawn from Boston." It
was rejected with scorn and anger. Undeterred by
this rebuff, and unwarped from his patriotic purpose
by feelings of pique, the great statesman introduced,
about a fortnight later, his Conciliation Bill. It was
thrown out without consideration. In the course of
that sitting, one noble speaker went aside to make
an attack upon Franklin (who was in the House at
the time), and called him " one of the bitterest and
most mischievous enemies this country had ever
known." In his reply, Chatham rebutted this slander
with eloquence and magnanimity, and spoke of
Franklin (" the gentleman alluded to, and so in
juriously reflected on ") as one " whom all Europe
held in high estimation for his knowledge and wis
dom, and ranked with our Boyles and Newtons —
one who was an honour not to the English nation
only, but to human nature." To have been previ
ously vilified by a Wedderburn was perhaps a small
price to pay for the privilege of being so vindicated
by a Chatham. But the scene is important because
of the deep impression which it left on Franklin's
mind. When he saw that even this great man, who
had done such mighty things for England, could yet
scarce secure a decent hearing, could certainly not
secure a moment's respectful consideration for his
proposals, when he attempted to establish a possi
bility of conciliation with America — then, indeed, for
264

HIS LATER LIFE
the first time, Franklin thought of England and the
English, in so far as the governing classes repre
sented either, with hopelessness and contempt.
Such a House of tetchy, chUdish, puffy Lords pom
pously scowling out such a man as Chatham — it was
indeed a sight to make a cynic. Yet if there was
anything to choose between the Lords and the Com
mons, the former, he recognised, had the greater
daim upon his respect. For they were the more
honest, as being, upon the whole, less needy.
When the noble Sandwich permitted himself to
speak of Franklin as " one of the bitterest and most
mischievous enemies this country had ever known,"
his lordship may not have been aware that his own
colleagues were even then, and had been for months
past, engaged in continual secret negotiations with
the sdd bitter and mischievous enemy. Of these
negotiations, however, since they were secret, and
since nothing came of them, and especidly since the
story would require a score or two of pages for its
proper telhng, I shall not attempt to give any account
here.^ Nevertheless, it is curious and worth re
membering that while responsible supporters of the
Government were referring to Frankhn, in Parliament
and in the Press, as one who was walking the streets
of London when his proper place was a cell in New
gate, at that very time Government (and a Higher
Power, in those days, than the ostensible Govern
ment) were actuaUy doing what Chatham had bravely
said that he would do if he were in their position :
they were " calling to their assistance the gentleman
so injuriously reflected on." But they were not
1 Following the example of Mr Morse, who, although he
writes a book, and his subject is Franklin the Statesman, yet
rightly pleads that "the story will not bear curtailment nor admit
of being related at length " within his limits. Readers may be
referred to Bigelow's "Life of Franklin," ii. 256-338 ; or (for an
abridgment about half as long as this Memoir) to the second
volume of Parton. 265

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
doing It publicly, as he said that he would do. That
qualification, to what had else been a sign of saving
wisdom, was vital, and meant much. The same
half-will to reason the matter out ; the same conflict
of anxiety and pride, pride having always the last
word ; the same desire to secure the future without
recanting the past or making just the present ; the
same reluctance to cancel a wrong or to acknowledge
a right — all worked to ensure that of these nego
tiations, which lasted from November till March,
nothing should come in the end. Their interest is
now mainly moral and psychological, and here
Franklin is seen to be very great. More than his
precision, his strong grasp, his broad view, one is
astonished, as the time goes on, at his patience with
those people, who clearly do not know their own
minds, and display not a little of that famous British
inability to understand the mind of others, or to
believe, at least, that there can be much in it. The
impossibility of doing anything with them seems to
have saddened rather than disgusted him. He had
presently a more personal reason for being sad. For
just when it was possible at last for him to leave
England, after having again and again deferred his
departure for yet another season, and another, at the
entreaty of the well-wishers to both countries — just
when he saw that the day of his usefulness, if not of
his safety, was nearly done in this country, and that
it was time to be getting back among his own folk,
who might still have use for him — came the sudden
news of his good wife's death. Every spring and
every autumn since he set sail, ten years ago, she
had hoped to welcome him home. In 1 774 she had
written that if he did not get back that autumn, she
felt that he would never see her ahve again. And
so it proved; for though a hale woman, she fell
away suddenly, and died after a few days' illness at
the beginning of the year. Whatever the patriot
266

HIS LATER LIFE
may have thought, the man and the husband must
have regretted a little that last season of dl, that one
season too many, taken from their lives together, to
give to the service of his country ; to the service
dso, had they had the grace or sense to see it, of
those in this country who were even then making
him the daUy mark of their Ul words and their worse
intentions. But at any rate his term was now almost
done, and his ship would soon sail. He respectfully
took leave to close the time-wasting business with
their various negotiating lordships, and placed the
affdrs of the Massachusetts Assembly in the hands
of his successor-designate, the famous Arthur Lee.
Then, posting from London to Portsmouth, he em
barked for Philadelphia on March 21, 1775. Littie
as he expected it, he was to find, on arriving there, a
scene of things which would engage him in a new
hfe of labours, with an object very different from
the one which he had hitherto cherished and served.
But at least it is true, as his biographer^ says, that
" Down to the packing of his last trunk, he had still
striven, with all the might of his genius, his wisdom,
his patience, and his wrath, to save entire the great
empire of his pride and love."

The ship dropped anchor in the Delaware, opposite
Philadelphia, on the evening of May 5, and Franklin
slipped quietly home before information of his arrival
had got about. But in a few hours the news was
over the whole city and was speeding through the
province. It was everywhere received with joy, a
joy heightened by some circumstances of the hour
that were news to him when he came ashore. While
the ship that brought him was stUl sixteen days from
home, hostihties had broken out between the King's
1 Parton, vol. ii. p. 65.
267

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
troops and the colonists ! The affair of Lexington,
the battie of Concord, had thrown the whole country
into a thrill of amazement and expectancy. The
appearance of Franklin among them at such a moment
was dramatic, opportune, auspicious ; it was hearten
ing beyond words. The country was like to have
need of aU her sons, the strong in council, and the
strong in arms ; and here was her greatest of all,
alighted, as it were, from the clouds at this juncture !
Early on the morning after his arrival, the Pennsyl
vania Assembly hastened to appoint him one of its
delegates to the second Continental Congress, which
was to meet in that city a few days later; and
Congress, when it met, hastened to appoint him to
almost every separate business which it took in hand.
A mere catalogue of the committees he served upon
would take up too much of our space, and to
describe his operations and interests fully would be
to write the history of the colonies during the next
eighteen months. A few of these must be men
tioned ; and something must be said to expldn that
development of his feelings which changed him,
hitherto as convinced an Imperialist as Cecil Rhodes
or the great Lord Chatham himself, into the arch-
separatist and the chief agent — always excepting the
good King George — in wresting her colonies from
England. One of the first things the new Congress had to
take thought for was the reorganising of the Post
Office, with a view both to facility and to safety.
Government in those days had small respect, either
in England or the colonies, for the alleged sacredness
of private correspondence even in times of peace.
No added sanctity, to say the least, would belong in
its eyes to the correspondence of those who were
dready described as " rebels." Congress therefore
took possession of that service, and placed at the
head of it Benjamin Franklin, with the title of
268

HIS LATER LIFE
Postmaster-General. He did his work as an
organiser so well that the system which he then
instituted did not need to be recast, in any essential
respect, in a hundred years of unparalleled national
expansion and progress. Another scene in which he
did redoubtable service was the Pennsylvania Com
mittee of Safety, of which he was chairman. The
business of this committee was " to arm and defend
Pennsylvania ; to caU out, drill, and organise the
mUitia ; to provide supplies and ammunition ; and to
issue bills of credit to pay for the same." Here he
appears in a new character, as the Vauban of the
Quaker colony ; for some of the most effective
defences, espedally a famous marine chevaux-de-frise,
to keep the British from coming up the Delaware,
were expressly designed by the chairman himself.
At a later time he presided over the Convention
which framed the Constitution of Pennsylvania, and
no man better fitted for such a function ever lived.
As to the committees of Congress he served upon,
their number seems legion, and their business
"Whatever men do" who are in the act,. the hope,
or the peril, of waging war. The earliest met at
six in the morning, and he would carry the energy of
his great calm mind from one to another till nightfall.
Although he took as httie part in mere debates
as he could, and made no oratorical displays, the
country was full of a sense of his presence and his
value, and was proud of the one and grateful for the
other. There was no subject upon which bis work
or his word was not of value, so he was wanted for
aU subjects. Thus, when General Washington
wrote a lamentable tale of how his extemporised
army was melting away and he saw no means, on
the present lines, of continuing any kind of mihtary
operations, Frankhn must needs be one of the Com
mission of Three sent by Congress to consult with
him, and to frame a plan for putting the defence of
269

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
the country upon a permanent basis. From Phila
delphia to Cambridge was a thirteen days' ride
(begun on October 4), and the conference lasted four
days. The result was that scheme of a continental
army, speedily put into execution, by which Wash
ington was able to carry on a seven years' war. But
Franklin came back from that conference an altered
man. When he left England he was far from consider
ing the old cause as lost. Its state was indeed
serious, and there was like to be further trouble ;
but there was no necessity to assume that the trouble
would be different in kind from that which had been
more or less continuous since the passing of the
Stamp Act. He saw that nothing but a display of
unanimity, firmness, and strength on the part of the
colonists, and the loss to English commerce which
the non-importation policy would go on to make
increasingly felt, was likely to bring England to a
sense of the folly of being on bad terms with her
sons across the sea. That she should decide to
enforce her point and settle this family disagreement
off-hand by starting to destroy buildings, burn
towns, and slaughter men — it was a contingency
which he may have contemplated, as he contemplated
every other, but he regarded it as a very remote one.
On arriving, he found that a sort of beginning on
these lines had actually been made, and that the
country was organising to resist the invasion of its
liberties which such acts portended. He was at
once with the fighting party in such a cause. It
was, however, only a fight for freedom as yet, the
English freedom of Enghsh subjects, not a war for
the independence of Americans. There were a few,
a very few in the entire country, who looked towards
that goal ; and Franklin was not of them. Just as
little, however, was he of that timorous band, headed
by John Dickenson of Pennsylvania, who anxiously
270

HIS LATER LIFE
deprecated, even after midsummer of 1775, ^ven
after Bunker Hill and Charlestown, any measures
which might " have a bad effect " upon the minds of
people in England. These were for sending petitions
to the King, even at that time of day; whereas
Frankhn put more faith in a permanent Union of the
colonies, and drew up a plan for effecting it. The
plan was reserved for a later time, however, since it
was deemed advisable, Franklin himself consenting,
that the futile and stultifying petition to the King —
yet another of these disgraced and disregarded peti
tions to the King ! — should go forth in the name of
Congress. This was done, that the "moderate " men
should not seem to have been overborne in the
National CouncU, and that the fate of the petition
might convince them when the arguments of their
compatriots and colleagues had fdled. And the
event was according to the forecast : the almost
dramatic and spectacular contempt with which that
petition was treated in England made up the minds
of thousands in America. And meantime, as one
scene of slaughter succeeded another, the royal
troops always taking the initiative, it grew more
apparent to the colonists that what had occurred
earher in the year was no affair of an unfortunate
rencontre or an administrative blunder, but the
carrying out of a steady policy of haughty subjec
tion ; of a determination to bear them to the ground
and then dictate to them on what terms they were to
live. So these months, the summer and autumn of
1775, saw a heightening of feeling that was pre
paring the way for a momentous general change of
mind and pohcy. Thus it was with Frankhn more
than most men. No man then living knew both
countries so weU as he, and none could judge so
securely the waste, the gratuitousness, and the
wrong. The absurdity also, the outrage upon com
mon sense it must have seemed, when he thought of
271

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
who they were, those governing persons so far
away, who claimed to dispose of the property and
make forfeit the lives of those industrious Americans
around him, who were not indebted to them for life,
nor for a crumb of bread. But those fatuous
governing persons could send armies into this distant
country ; and though they could not reason, nor
understand reason, they could destroy, and destroy,
and destroy. Many expedients — he had proved it
at the cost of his own patience — had seemed insuper
ably difficult to them ; but the last, the most brutal,
and, to a humane mind, the most difficult of dl —
into that they could throw themselves with a light
heart. So he reasoned, remembering the past and
looking round at the present ; and to him, reasoning
so. Bunker Hill and the burning of Charlestown left,
of his old allegiance for England, but a very slender
filament of remembered feeling by the time October
of that year had come. Then he went to the con
ference with Washington. When setting out to
return home, accounts reached him of the wanton
destruction of Falmouth in Maine, by British men-
of-war ; neither church nor school spared ; the
houses which had escaped the cannonade deliberately
fired by the torch, marines being landed to carry out
that splendid exploit ; all the shipping burned, so
that the poor people should neither have the means
of restoring their fortunes nor of finding food — and
all this done on the verge of a northern winter !
Such was the wisdom and mercy of the King, whom
some folk were still for petitioning ; such were the
rights of sovereignty and, to Americans, the bless
ings of the English connection. Whatever others
might think of it, Franklin resolved at once that
rights like these were to be warred against by all
good men, and that the sooner the egregious con
nection ceased to exist, the less anomalous the world
would be. If he had doubted at all before, he had
272

HIS LATER LIFE
done with doubting now. From this moment he
devoted himself utterly — every power of his mind,
every fibre of his body — to the cause which he now
publidy dedared for, the Independence of America.
My topic not being the history of the Revolution,
I can do little more than name rapidly the three or
four chief events with which he was connected
during the next twdvemonth. In the winter of
1775-6, the Colonists, accepting what was a tacit
declaration of war agdnst them by the Mother-
Country, had begun mUitary operations agdnst the
British forces in Canada. After opfening well, these
operations became inglorious, if they did not bring
disgrace. Congress decided early in the spring to
send a commissioner to see if its affairs could not be
retrieved somewhat ; and in spite of his seventy
years and two months, it chose to send Franklin.
Never sparing himself in his country's service, he
did not refuse the duty now imposed upon him ;
but the journey into these Polar regions went near
to killing him ; and though he came back alive, he
felt for many a day afterwards the effect of the hard
ships then undergone. As to the situation there, it
was fairly irretrievable, and he reported to that
effect. Two pieces of good news gladdened his
heart on getting back. The first was that a plenti
ful supply of gunpowder was now on hand. The
second was that during the past two months Inde
pendence had been gaining new adherents by the
hundred every day. It was no longer the whispered
word of two or three, but the war-cry of a growing
host. This was good hearing ; and he threw hini-
self with a will into making that disposition prevail
more and more. In June the great issue was fought
out in Congress and the momentous Resolution
carried* Franklin was one of a committee of five
appointed to draw up a Declaration ; but the Declara
tion was the work of Thomas Jefferson done. A
s 273

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
few days later came the first Fourth of July in
universal history. Eight days later still, arrived off
Sandy Hook Franklin's esteemed friend Lord Howe,
bringing overtures of conciliation ; and a fleet and an
army (a second army) to enforce them with. On
September II, there took place, in a hut on Staten
Island, a picturesque conference between Lord Howe
and a commission consisting of Franklin, John
Adams, and Edward Rutledge, who had been sent
by Congress in compliance with Lord Howe's
request, to hear what his lordship had to offer. The
Commissioners sat very tight, and his lordship was
bound by his instructions, so between the two parties
matters got no forarder. His lordship, indeed, had
nothing ready for immediate offer, save the King's
pardon for those who would give in their submission.
Pardon, submission ! — these were not the things that
Americans were asking or giving eight weeks after
the Fourth of July. So the Commissioners with
drew ; and Lord Howe continued his negotiations
with the help of two armies and a fleet. Against
such arguments one needed to have a strong case ;
and the eyes of Congress looked across the world
for signs of aid. Better than watching and waiting,
was to go and seek for it, go and ask it. So, on
an evening towards the end of October, there slipped
secretly out of Philadelphia an old man of seventy-
one accompanied by two boys, his grandsons. Early
next morning they rode from Chester on the
Delaware to Marcus Hook, three mUes beyond, and
embarked on board a sloop of war — the Reprisal
sixteen guns — which was wdting out of sight to
receive them. Then the sloop stole down the river
and put out into a wintry sea. The old man was
Benjamin Franklin, accredited Envoy to the Court of
Versailles.

274

HIS LATER LIFE

Franklin was not venturing into a strange world
in going to France for dd, nor into one where an
interest in the American cause had yet to be created.
During his residence in England he had pdd visits to
the French capitd, and had been received with the
distinction which his fame as a savant, and his
European prestige as a practicd mordist, could not
but ensure for him in that city of the philosophers
and the economists. He made dso many friendships
of that kind, that fervour and fastness through life,
which he had the gift of making wherever he went.
These, like every other power or acquisition of his,
were now at the service of his country. When a
Committee of Secret Correspondence was formed in
November 1775, he had written at once to men on
the continent of Europe who would have moved the
World, or tried to, at his request. And some of
them had effected much, before the foUowing
summer was come. There was indeed a Very general
sodal and popvUar interest in the subject of American
insurgency throughout all Europe, but especidly in
France : an interest sympathetic in the highest
degree. In France there was also an interest felt by
statesmen, an interest of special vivacity, in the pro
gress and upshot of England's quarrel with her
colonies. For if the colonists were to shake them
selves free, as they well might, then the balance of
power as between England and France would be
more comfortable to contemplate than the issue of
the last war had left it. Those two kinds of interest
in the question — that of popular enthusiasm and that
of politicd deliberation — met and fused in the mind
of Caron de Beaumarchais. As a privileged person
at court and dmost a statesman (on occasion) with
out an office, he maintained for some months his
parable that the historic juncture involved almost a
call of destiny to the Most Christian King, to come
275

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
to the aid of the insurgent colonists and so, by
breaking the power of an insulting enemy, secure
the safety of France for generations. His eloquence
and ingenuity, however, made no headway against
the reluctance of the King and the wisdom of
Turgot. But when Turgot was dismissed, Beau
marchais' views received the qualified support of the
new Foreign Minister, the Comte de Vergennes,
and the King complied in part. Direct intervention
was on all grounds out of the question, but some
degree of aid might be extended to the Colonists.
For this benevolent purpose, a comic-opera scheme
of the Enthusiast's own conceiving was put into
execution about the middle of June 1776. With
a capital of a million livres (advanced by the court)
Beaumarchds opened a commercial house with a
Spanish style and title. Its business (a mystery to
passers-by) was really to ship to the English colonies
all sorts of military supplies, receiving as payment
consignments of American produce. The operations
of the house were for a few months most successful,
several ships laden with contraband having been got
safely away. But as no return consignments appeared,
the operations of the house began to be hampered
owing to overtrading or lack of funds. They were
still more hampered presently owing to the repeated
remonstrances of the British Ambassador, angrily
calling attention to the kind of business being done
by Roderique Hortdez & Company. The innocent
French Government, surprised and shocked, promptly
put the ships of that firm under lock and key. But
though some would manage, somehow, to get away,
yet no consignments of produce came to off-set the
account. Towards the end of the year, all life was
gone out of the venture. The head of the house
was dejected ; not so much at being insolvent as at
being out of favour at court. It was alleged that
but for his gross imprudence in certain places, the
276

Mm

Benjamin Fbanklin (in 1783).
From an engraving by J. Thomson, after the portrait by Duplessis.

HIS LATER LIFE
British lion would not have roared in that pdnful
way. Now since July he had been acting dong with
Mr Silas Deane, who had been sent to Europe early
in the year by Congress (or by Franklin) with some
what vague powers and purposes as a commercial
and politicd agent and envoy to the world at large.
While things went well with Beaumarchds, they
went well with SUas Deane. But when the former
became insolvent and fell into disgrace, the latter
lost at once his only means of subsistence and his one
influentid dly. I cannot sing here the Iliad of the
woes of SUas Deane ; a good man not heroicdly
strong, who was marooned on a populous strange
continent, the unsdaried representative of a pack of
rebels, and who heard, as the months went by, no
news nor report of his country but the rumour of
her downfdl, and who expected to find himself
some fine morning placed beyond the frontier at
the request of the British Ambassador, or handed
over, a recreant traitor, to the tender mercies of his
sovereign. To him thus besieged by distress and
perplexity and fear, and ready to capitulate, came
news on December 7 that Dr Franklin had arrived
at Nantes. And to Silas Deane it was as if an army
had come to his relief, an army with banners !
And if it was not at once followed by such a dis
play of reversing power as the metaphor seems to
imply, it is none the less true that his coming had
a mord effect dmost as striking and as instantaneous
as its spectacular value. The latter could hardly
be exaggerated. No piece of news in those years
so arrested the attention of mankind as the news
that Dr Franklin — who but yesterday had been in
PhUadelphia, and the day before in the midst of a
Canadian winter outside of the world — had suddenly
appeared in Paris, the intellectual and diplomatic
centre of Europe. It was more than a nine days'
wonder ; and nobody doubted it might portend jm-
277

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
mensities. To Paris, and to the French people, it
was not more a wonder than a joy. The American
cause, in which all minds were interested and so
many hearts engaged, had now for its defender and
representative in their own midst a man so famous
that hardly any name in the world at that time com
manded such a universd respect as his. Amongst
the learned, the wise or the intellectud he was re
garded as an elder and chief; amongst the mass of
the people he was conceived of as a benefactor of
the race, a parent by adoption of the whole human
famUy. " Franklin's reputation," says John Adams,
speaking of what he saw, on coming to France a
year later, and what was little to his liking, " was
more universd than that of Leibnitz or Newton,
Frederick or Voltdre ; and his character more be
loved and esteemed than any or dl of them." And
not only the many friendships which he had already
formed there, and to which he returned as to the
enjoyment of an estate, but also that comprehensive
ness of his, that humane universality for which he
was unmatched among men, went to render his
sojourn in a strange land seem but an exchange of
country-seats, each equally in his native air.
Amongst his fellow-men, whatever language they
spoke, he lived dways at home, as among a nation
of friends and kinsmen : whereas dl other Americans
were acutely conscious of the fact that English
men were British, and that Frenchmen were
Foreigners, and were not so conscious as they
might have been that they themselves were Pro
vincials. And the longer Frankhn's friends in any
country knew him, the deeper became their admira
tion and the warmer their esteem. Even on the
plane of high politics, as in social relations and in
private life, the personal qualities of Frankhn were
effective, and made a way for him through many an
impasse. It would have gone hard with his country,
278

HIS LATER LIFE
in the years that were now to follow, had not many an
effort been made, had not many a point been stretched,
for the sake of the man, which would scarcely have
been undertaken, so wiUingly, for the cause alone.
Thus, whUe the whole course of his past life, and
the secular growth of his fame, went to invest him
with such an interest for the imagination as rendered
him virtuaUy Ambassador to the People of France,
his authentic personal qudities secured for him in
time, as longer acquaintance made them better
known, a second privilege and ascendency as one
who was an esteemed friend, and dmost a col
league, rather than a foreign envoy, in the eyes of
the Ministers of Louis XVI.
The terrible shaking of that voyage through thirty
days of November storm had left Frankhn very
feeble ; so that though he reached Nantes on
December 6, he did not continue the journey to
Paris till about a fortnight later. With his arrival
there on December 2 1 , the external history of the
American Revolution begins to have an official
character. He found Deane in Paris, and on the
following day they were joined by Arthur Lee.
Both of these were joint-envoys with him, Deane
being already in France, and Lee in England, when
the Commission of Legation was appointed. On the
28th, the envoys had an audience of the Foreign
Minister, the Comte de Vergennes. The most
notable gdn from this audience was an assurance
that the hospitality of France would in no case be
withdrawn from them : that the King was resolved
to protect them while they chose to reside in his
dominions. For the rest, there was a hint or two
for their guidance in the diplomatic system of things,
and a request that they should prepare a statement
of their proposals, to be placed in the hands of M.
Gerard, the Secretary of the Council. This was
soon done ; and within a few days after its delivery,
279

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
M. Gerard came with a verbal reply. The tone of
the reply was friendly in the extreme, but the general
effect was non-compliance with the specific proposals.
This was hardly wonderful, seeing that compliance
with almost any one of them would have been
equivalent to an instant declaration of war with
England : and it was yet to be seen whether the
Colonists were worth anything to themselves — to
say nothing of their allies — in so great a venture.
Nevertheless, the friendly disposition of the King
and his advisers was as good as admitted, the Envoys
being told that whatever countenance it might be
possible to afford them, without impairing the
neutrality of France, would always be gladly given.
As a token of this good feeling, an unsolicited loan
of two milhon francs, free of interest and not repay
able till the end of the war, was at the service of
the Commission. These were not small mercies,
all things considered ; and they gave a basis for
large hopes. It must be remembered that the
current omens, as seen from Europe at that actud
hour, were not auspicious for the Rebels or
for those whom they might contrive to associate
with their sin. The last public news was of
American defeats, the latest official information was
of yet greater English armies getting ready to sail ;
and here, in Paris, was Lord Stormont again re
monstrating. All which things notwithstanding, it
somehow happened that, not long after the inter
view just spoken of, two of Beaumarchais' ships —
Beaumarchais, again in some miraculous way made
solvent — managed, in spite of severest orders and
strictest vigilance, to get safe to sea !
The year Seventy-seven, regarded as a whole,
was essentially the waiting time of the Revolution.
Yet in Europe, as in America, it was a time of brisk
action as well as of grave anxiety and deadly lull.
Franklin directed the one or endured the other, so
280

HIS LATER LIFE
far as they belonged to this hemisphere, in the quiet
of a house witiiin a garden, situated in Passy, at that
time a semi-rurd suburb of Paris. A large part
of a great mansion there, the Hotel Vdentinois,
had been placed at his disposal, and that of his
colleagues if they would share his occupancy of it,
by the owner, M. Le Ray de Chaumont, one of
Franklin's most fervid admirers and warmest friends.
So thither he migrated early in the year, and here
set up his estabhshment as became an Envoy; far
enough from Paris to secure quiet, and to seem but
a private dweller in a land which could not officiaUy
recognise his presence^in any other character.
This rurd seclusion and private innocence not
withstanding, Franklin was very full of work of
a pubhc and even death-dealing kind. That is, he
soon found himself in the position of Admiralty to
a little fleet of privateersmen who waged war upon
England in the narrow sea and in neighbouring
waters. Their operations were so successful that
England, or at least Enghsh merchants, began to
feel that these islands were in a state of blockade.
Lord Chatham spoke in Parliament of " our com
merce " being " torn to pieces " by them. So dire
were the doings, or at least the impressions created,
by three or four such tiny craft. Tiny as they were,
they gave dmost as much trouble and anxiety to
their admird on land as to their enemies at sea.
For the brave commanders would assume that they
might bring their prizes into French ports, as into
Boston or Falmouth, and sell them there; and it
was Franklin's weary task to awaken in them some
small respect for the law of nations or (oftener still)
to obviate the perilous consequences of their trans
gression thereof. Before the end of February they
had collected about a hundred British seamen,
prisoners of war. With these victims on hand, the
Envoys thought well to approach the English Am-
281

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
bassador on the subject of an exchange. After some
eight or ten weeks' interval, and in reply to a second
letter, they heard at last from his lordship. That
is, they received a piece of official notepaper, un
dated, unsigned, and containing only these great
words : " The King's Ambassador receives no
applications from rebels, unless they come to implore
his Majesty's mercy." The retort of the Envoys
was more severe than this was crushing, and quite
as dignified. " In answer to a letter," it ran, " which
concerns some of the most material interests of
humanity, and of the two nations. Great Britain and
the United States of America, now at war, we
received the enclosed indecent paper as coming from
your Lordship, which we return for your Lordship's
more mature consideration." But though Lord
Stormont was a little unfortunate in his style, and
was considered to have rendered himself ridiculous,
his attitude was correct enough and implied a view
of the situation which was, to say the least, excusable
in a British Ambassador. At any rate it was a view
from which the British Government could not be
induced to recede by any argument, save the argu
ment of triumphing arms.
And as the year wore on, it grew less and less
likely that the envoys would have that argument in
their favour. The career of the good captains, if
bright, was brief, and as autumn turned towards
winter the seas that had known their renown knew
them no more. From America came no direct news,
and if any rumours came, they were only of defeat.
Intelligence from England was all to that effect ;
the hands of Government strengthened, armies
victorious, the American cause regarded as lost by
those who had wished it well. On the continent, and
even in France, the same conviction gaining ground.
And with this darkening of prospects, an ebb of
resource. No prizes were being brought in now ;
282

HIS LATER LIFE
even that good ally, Beaumarchds, was at the end
of his efforts. Towards the close of October the
envoys were fain to ask the French Government
to buy from them a frigate which was then being
buUt to their order in Holland : so little chance did
there seem of its being allowed to sdl. And such
melancholy tokens. Yet even at this time, in a lull
that was heavy with hopelessness, and when the
outiook was into sheer darkness, Frankhn did not for
a moment lose his cdm, or even his confidence in
the ultimate — nay, in the proximate — success of his
country's fortunes. He was not only steady him
self, but he made others steadfast : he impressed
even Arthur Lee with a sense of his greatness.
And when, upon the back of this, came news that
Philadelphia was taken, and the good Silas Deane
was thereupon for going to the French Ministry
to demand an alliance at once, under a threat of
their making terms, else, with England — Franklin
stood firm against that counsel of panic also, as
being inconsistent with the dignity and the interests
of his country. Seldom in history has there been
such subhme and unshakable confidence as this : and
never perhaps was such confidence so dramatically
and swiftiy justified. For it was but a week later
(December 4, 1777), that a carriage dashed into
the courtyard of the Hotel Valentinois, and there
sprang from it a young man who had travelled
hard over land and sea, all the way from Massa
chusetts, to announce to the representatives of
America in Europe that General Burgoyne and
his whole army were prisoners of war.
Whether the victory at Saratoga had definitely
secured American Independence for the rest of
time, was a matter not to be ascertained in half
an hour; and its probabihty might have been
comfortably discussed for a good part of a year,
without anybody being proved completely in the
283

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
wrong, in those days before the telegraph. But
the fact that so signd, and by aU tokens so
dedsive, a success had been achieved by the
colonists at the end of a two years' resistance
to the forces of an Empire, afforded ground
enough to go upon for a Government that was
dready prepared to recognise the independence
and sovereignty of the United States, as soon as
the situation of affdrs gave any colourable pretext
for doing so. It was not war agdnst England
that the French Court relucted from, but the
somewhat dehcate act of intervention. Saratoga
removed those scruples ; and the Government,
having promptiy come to a decision, acted upon
that decision with simphcity, directness and speed.
On December 6, the envoys received, along with
the congratulations of the Ministry, a request that
they would now renew their application for an
dhance. The application was soon put in form and
delivered, and soon reported upon. On December
17 M. Gerard came to Passy to announce that the
French Government had decided to make a treaty
with the United States. In the crowded days then
following, there was much unprofitable activity of
smaUer wits, much quiet, swift and sure work of
one calm and comprehensive mind, in the neighbour
hood of the Hotel Vdentinois. The effects of the
former being eliminated, those of the latter remdned ;
and appeared when, on February 6, 1778, there
were signed and sealed Three Treaties between
the King of France and the Congress of the United
States. The first was a Treaty of Amity and Commerce,
which bound the two nations to be good friends,
to trade fdrly, and to allow no superior advantages
to any other nation. The second was a Treaty of
Alliance, and had reference to the events hkely to
arise out of the action of France in thus according
internationd recognition to the revolted colonists.
284

HIS LATER LIFE
Recognition was intervention, and intervention
would probably mean war. France here bound her
self never to withdraw from that war, should war be
made upon her, till the Independence of the United
States had been achieved ; the States in turn bound
themselves not to make peace on any terms short
of Independence ; and neither party to the treaty was
to make a separate peace or a separate truce without
the consent of the other first obtained. The third,
or Secret Treaty, merely provided for the entry of
Spain into this compact at a later time. All three
treaties, indeed, must be secret treaties for the next
few days, because of certain ships then at sea.
But the mask was Idd aside, the position of affairs
reveded to the world, on March 20,^ the date of the
famous reception of the American Envoys by the
King at Versdlles. One ought rather to say, the
reception of Dr Franklin and his Associates ; for
that is how that memorable function phrased itself
to the imagination of contemporaries. Everybody
has read, somewhere or other, references to the pro
found impression his appearance there created ; his
serenity and benevolence of aspect, his dignity, and
yet portentous audacity ; his own personal white
locks worn instead of the wig proper and imperative,
an oaken staff in his hand in lieu of the sword of
ceremony 1 Neverthless, there was too much cere
mony in all this for the British Ambassador, who
departed next morning without taking leave.
Franklin remdned to make up for the void thus
left in the hearts of dl Paris; and perhaps aU
Paris was never so full of Frankhn as now. To
this spring of 1 778, it may be noted, belongs another
1 It had been revealed to the British Ministry a week earlier,
in a rescript handed in by the French Ambassador in London on
March 13. In this document the United States were declared to
be in full possession of Independence, the Treaty of Amity and
Commerce " between the two nations " was formally announced,
and the Treaty of Alliance was not obscurely indicated.
285

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
appearance of his, which had an immense apped for
the hearts aforesdd : namely, his appearance upon
the same platform with Voltaire at a meeting of the
Academy of Sciences on April 27. The great con
course of scientists and philosophers which fiUed the
room, becoming possessed by one feeling and one
wish, refused to be satisfied until these two — a
Solon and a Sophocles, as they were in their eyes —
had been made to approach from their respective
seats and embrace each other — " h lafranpaisel" — to
the universal delight. But such gaieties belong to
the biography of one of the other Franklins, not
to that of the Statesman with whom we are here
concerned. If the treaty of alliance lifted the weight of anxiety
from the envoys, it also increased the burden of
work, the main share of which was from the first
borne by Franklin. The outbreak of war between
France and England rendered possible a resumption
of those navd operations into the direction of which
he had thrown himself with such zest in the spring
and summer of the previous year. The business of
the brave had been hampered then by the want of
any port to fly to, for safety or supplies, nearer
than the other side of the Atlantic. To be sure,
nearer ports had been sought ; but difficulties had
been apt to result, which were not to be created
too often. The cessation of France's neutrality
threw open dl French seaports to the so-cdled
privateers, which preyed upon British commerce, and
sometimes engaged British warships not unsuccess
fully. With the buying, equipping, commissioning
of tiiese craft Franklin had everything to do ; and
when they returned from conquest, he was the
prize court that kept them on the right side of
the law and also apportioned the spoUs. Adjudi
cating the quarrels or disarming the jealousies of
rivd captains was a harder and more perilous task,
286

HIS LATER LIFE
but he faced it with skill and courage. As an
example of his courage one would like to quote a
letter which he wrote to a certdn Captain Landais,
undeterred by the fact that this captain was a
Frenchman and hdf a maniac. But the most im
portant business growing out of the new conditions
on which the war was waged, was that with re
ference to the American prisoners in England. A
few days after receiving the great news of December
4, the envoys had written to Lord North request
ing that agents appointed by them might be per
mitted to have access to these prisoners and do
something, by periodicd smdl doles of money and
the distribution of comforts, to render their con
dition less wretched. His lordship returned a
courteous and even concihatory reply, and practically
granted the request. He even sdd something now
about an exchange of prisoners : which was equal to
recognising the rebels as belligerents. But a little
later Government showed more reluctance to com
mit itself definitely to that position ; and although
an engagement to make an exchange was given in
the spring or early summer of 1778, it was not
untU the end of March in the following year that
the first cartel ship saUed for France. Into no
business did Franklin ever put his heart so greatly
and simply and transparently as into this. He stuck
to his task and maintained his plea indefatigably
through months of discouragement and disappoint
ment, and some of the letters which he wrote in
this cause are among the finest monuments to his
character. At the same time he was rearing another such
monument, not immediately visible to all, and least
pleasing to those who were privUeged to watch it
rise, in the steady mind with which he met a long
series of secret overtures made to him by the English
Government. From the moment when the news of
287

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
Burgoyne's capitulation reached Europe, that Govern
ment had recognised the danger if not the certainty
of a Franco-American alliance being ratified forth
with. The prospect caused a singular sweetening
of temper towards the rebels, a desire to end the
quarrel with them, even upon terms which a little
earlier it would have been considered an insult for
the rebels themselves to have proposed. Hence the
procession of secret emissaries who began to appear
at the Hotel Valentinois about the middle of
December 1 777. The object of these first comers
was to avert, while yet there was time, any " fatal
treaty with the House of Bourbon." Their arrivd
did not interrupt the work, then going on, of draft
ing the three treaties. When the Treaty of Amity
and Commerce was formally announced, war agdnst
France was the only reply which the feeling of the
country, to say nothing of the pride of Kings, made
possible. But the procession of secret emissaries
kept on its way, all the same, right up to high
summer of 1 779. The object now was to sunder
the allies, that France might be left to fight alone ;
and to secure this, England was now willing to
grant any concessions, short of absolute and formal
independence, which the colonists could dream of
enjoying. Though the earher of these appeals
implied an assumption that the colonists were fools,
and the later ones that they were caitiffs, yet they
were mostly good if misguided men who came on
that errand. Also they were sufficiently numerous,
and they were sufficiently varied in their personal
attributes and social style, to contribute, by their
regular apparition from time to time, a distinct strain
of human interest to life at Passy, during a period
of twenty months, and even to enrich Benjamin
Frankhn's acquaintance with the moral types of
mankind. Which is all that needs to be said about
them here.

HIS LATER LIFE
One would be glad to dismiss in like summary
fashion two or three other persons who, during
hdf the period, at least, of Franklin's service in
France, made hfe interesting in a very diff^erent
sense. Their cldm to be more intimately re
membered, however, cannot be passed over; for
to ignore the degree in which they increased the
difficulties of his position and his task would be
to leave the account of his services, and of the
merit implied in rendering them at all, vitdly
imperfect. It was a period in which his endurance,
his self-forgetting patience, was as magnanimous
and rare as his wisdom in counsel and in manage
ment was unmatched. The touchstone of one half
of the greater qualities of Benjamin Franklin was
the active-minded, small-brained, self-enamoured and
evil-thinking Arthur Lee of Virginia. If that great
colony gave to the Revolution its Complete Hero in
George Washington, it gave also, in Arthur Lee, one
whom it is only not quite accurate to describe as the
Complete Cretin or the Complete Cad of the Revolution.
He was not redly a cretin, for he had plenty of
intelligence of a trivial kind, and a deplorable
abundance of uncontrolled and misdirected reason
ing power. Neither was he exactly what you
would call a cad; for besides belonging to a
very good family, and having had an English
Public School and University education, he was a
fairly honest patriot of his shallow kind, and even
wore a certain pseudo-elevation of style about him
so constantly that the theatrical property became
the man. But he was fussy, as only a fool is fussy.
He was vain, as only a being imperfectly developed,
and therefore self-conscious and uneasy, can be vain.
He was jealous, as ody a man of acute narrow intelli
gence and restive conceit can be jealous. He had a
mania for doing, and for meddling, and for modify
ing. Above dl, he had a mania for suspecting,
T 289

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
whenever anything was being done, or was not being
done, for reasons of which he was not advised, or in
a way of which he did not approve. The fact that
the thing was being done by somebody else, or that
the way was somebody else's way, was a sufficient
reason why Arthur Lee should first disapprove ; and
then suspect; and then hint his suspicions of that
person ; and finally reach the stage of boldly slander
ing him with perfect honesty and conviction, and an
abundance of avouched lies. Thanks to this happy
disposition and a complete lack of scruple in indulg
ing it — thanks, dso, to the fact that he was personally
unknown in America, and at the same time was
covered by the great respect in which his powerful
and patriotic family was held there — he was able
for years to run a career of mischief-making and of
petty infamy at a high plane of things. "The
disturbance he wrought," says Mr Morse, " was
great enough to constitute an important element
in history. . . . He buzzed about Europe like an
angry hornet, thrusting his venomous sting into
every respectable and useful servant of his country,
and irritating exceedingly the foreigners whom it
was of the first importance to conciliate." Another
American writer describes him as having caused to
his fellow-commissioners, first and last, " about as
much trouble as did the backwardness of the French
ministry, the zeal of the British cruisers, the laxity
of the over-pressed Congress, and the low state of
American credit, all put together." The same writer
adds that " His was one of those characters which,
though probably reasonable enough to their pos
sessors, seem to others to be almost miraculous in
their littleness and meanness." The ill-will which
a pushing, punctilious, fussy, pragmatic, mandarinic
idiot like this must immediately conceive on finding
himself in the smallest degree overlooked in any
transactions, or consultations, or social attentions
290

HIS LATER LIFE
which might be going forward, was pretty sure to
come speedUy into constant play when he found
himself placed beside such an overshadowing col
league as Dr Franklin, among such a people as the
French. Nevertheless, Franklin was not the chief
mark of his malice during 'Seventy-Seven : Silas
Deane occupied his thoughts and his pen at that
time. But when he had accomplished the destruc
tion of that victim (who was recalled at the beginning
of the following year, to be treated by Congress with
an injustice which practicdly unsettled his wits, and
caused him to abjure his country), then Arthur Lee
permitted his mind to settle upon Franklin. It was
very bad for his mind. For the task of subverting
such a man was a long task, and the effort was, in
effect, futUe; so that what with the glooms of
disappointment, and an dmost hysterical exacerba
tion of animosity, which the long obsession had
created, Arthur Lee makes his exit from Europe
in the condition of a quite presentable and well-
dressed monomaniac, but a monomaniac all the
same. But in the interval he was able to do a
vast amount of mischief, and to create an atmo
sphere of anxiety and uncertainty, an atmosphere
of conflict and cabal, in the midst of which
Franklin had to keep his patience and serve his
country as best he could. His country in the
meanwhile, as he was perfectly aware, was well
on the way, at any moment, to treat him as
unjusdy as it had treated the luckless Deane; so
consistently and continuously did the wretched
Lee send his official packets full of insinuation,
and his private letters full of hes, across the
Atlantic. For Lee could command a powerful
interest there ; and for his policy of thwarting and
stinging and teasing, he had the support in Paris
of his brother, WUliam Lee, and his melodramatic
crony, Ralph Izard, both members of legation.
291

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
Such men are, in the Hterd sense of a valu
able and misused phrase, not worth a damn, so
we need not damn them. But the attention
would not be altogether wasted on a much better
man, Mr John Adams. That is a name for which
Americans have a respect, but which it is per
mitted to a British person who is, anyhow, more
interested in Franklin, to regard with some dislike
and contempt. A perception of the good points
of Mr Adams lessens the dislike, but rather
increases the contempt : for such a man ought to
have known better. At any rate, when John Adams
— the strong and honest John Adams, second Presi
dent of the United States — came to Paris in the
spring of 1778, taking the place of Deane, he
fairly threw himself into the arms of the Lee
coterie, and, without directly countenancing the
extravagancies of Lee himself, yet took up an
attitude of ill-disposition towards Franklin, which
was an invaluable support to those weak-minded
malcontents. For this unfortunate and dishonour
ing attitude of Adams towards his great country
man, Lee is largely to blame, since he " initiated "
his new colleague to such effect, that it took
Adams, working hard at the accounts and the
general state of things, the better part of a year to
unlearn what he had been taught, upon his arrival, in
a few conversations or a short course of hints. But
the bulk of the blame must fall directly on Adams
himself, for the root of the evil was in his own
nature. His vice was the vice of Arthur Lee, with a
personal difference. Arthur Lee was suspicious and
also jealous ; John Adams was jealous, morbidly
jealous, and only rarely, and as a consequence,
suspicious. He was jealous of the greatness, the
importance, of other men. On that account he
was jealous of Washington, of HamUton, and of
Franklin; and years after dl three were dead he
292

HIS LATER LIFE
would become dmost furious at the mention of their
names, or at the citation of an opinion of theirs,
though it were in his own prdse. Of course he did
not arrive at that stage in a day ; but even for the
John Adams of 1778, France was not the proper
place, nor Frankhn — " the iUustrious Dr Franklin ! "
— the most fortunate colleague. Not to linger over
the matter, let me merely say that this covert Ul-wiU
of Adams, as yet not very definite nor very hearty,^
1 That came later ; but as I shall not be able to find room in the
text for the train of minor events out of which Mr Adams's more
confirmed animosity arose, I may refer to the matter here.
Upon the Joint Commission being dissolved, Adams returned to
America in the spring of 1779. But by next February he was back
in Europe, having been sent thither by Congress, somewhat pre-
matnrely,in the capacityof a Peace Commissioner. De Vergennes,
who had not much liking for Mr Adams, yet wished to make the
best of him, and showed him a great deal of civility upon his re
turn, and invited him to communicate from time to time. Very
pleased with himself thereat was Mr Adams ; and being pleased,
became fatuous, and went headlong. That is, he fell into a way
of communicating his views, generally on affairs that were not
within his province, in very long letters to de Vergennes, too
often, and for insufficient reasons. He argued with this great
man of affairs about things that did not matter ; and upon things
that did matter, but which were no business of his, he presented
his views in epistolary treatises which displayed a vast deal of
intelligence and an astonishing "want of sense. The remorseless
correctness of Mr Adams's logic did not inspire so much confidence
as the absence of tact and almost of courtesy created disgust in
the mind of a French diplomatist. He was not only rude — for
the amiable expressions of the king himself, as reported by de
Vergennes, could not escape the schoolmasterly corrections and
settings right of this superfluous and precise self-constituted
colleague of the Foreign Office — but he was tiresome intolerably 1
At length there came a rupture, and de Vergennes reminded him
that, after all, Dr Franklin was the only person with whom This
Court need discuss the matters in question. He also appealed to
Franklin for a disclaimer, on the part of Congress, of a certain
policy (with regard to the redemption of the depreciated American
paper currency) which had an appearance of being unjust to
French merchants and others, but which Adams had gone out of
his way to champion and explain, much in the manner of a
schoolmaster driving knowledge into an unwilling head. Finally
he (de Vergennes) sent the whole correspondence to Franklin,
and required him to transmit it to Congress. Here is an example
of the kind of situation that was made for Franklin from time to
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BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
and the ceaseless, plotting, bitter hostiUty of the
microcephalic Lee, united in contributing additiond
aspects of hardship, anxiety, and almost of thankless-
ness to that noble task — of helping his country to
come prosperously through her struggle for Inde
pendence — to which Franklin had devoted the
time by so-called colleagues. It was serious beyond words. In
dealing with this particular instance, as with others, it has been
acknowledged (by all the world save Adams and the sons of
Adams) that Franklin showed the greatest wisdom, moderation,
generosity, tact. Any other man would have taken up a high
position, not without cause, about the gratuitousness, the meddle
someness of all this mischief-making. Bnt not by a syllable did
Franklin remind Adams that he had been wandering out of his
province ; and he gently suggested a w^ay, as though Adams were
a colleague who had blundered a little, by which he could easily
make matters right. But Adams, for good and evil, was not of
the compromising, flexible kind. He did not want that matters
should be put right, but that he should be defended, justified,
vindicated, at whatever cost to the general system of things,
including his country. So his only reply was a short note to
Franklin, saying that he also had sent the correspondence to
Congress. From this time dates that animosity against Franklin which
was a quenchless, though quiet and smouldering fire in the breast
of John Adams as long as he lived, a fire which it has become a
duty of piety in his successors to keep alive. They have had a
fortunate degree of success. Franklin's family may be said, for
historical purposes, to have died with him, his only descendants
being by the female line ; whereas the " House of Adams" is one
of the acknowledged institutions of America, both in politics and
literature. It is very conscious of itself, and perhaps dreams of a
destiny. No minutest particular regarding it is allowed to perish.
It has a fire-proof building for its archives, as though it were
the House of Hapsburg. Its influence, travelling underground,
reappears in strange places. In the Cambridge " History of the
United States," for instance, there is a passage about Franklin —
absurd, and to my mind disgraceful in a work of that importance
— which says that, "The whole tenor of his life shows him to
have been a man of no delicate sense of honour," and that " in
what he believed to be a good cause he could be unscrupulous in
his choice of means." I am not concerned here to examine or
refute this. I only say that the writer (Mr Doyle) is better
acquainted with the work of John Adams than with the character
or even the career of Benjamin Franklin ; and that in writing the
above words he was influenced by an unconscious recollection —
almost resulting in verbatim quotation — of a particularly male
volent and absurd passage in the Life of John Adams, by his son.
294

HIS LATER LIFE
remdning years and energies of a life already so full
of works, and service, and praise, and the right to
rest. In the story of what he had to endure from
these causes during a course of years — years in
which he was doing such great things for his
country — there would be something pathetic were
there not something magmficent and strong. The
patience which he had with those people, his self-
effadng endurance, his determination not even to
recognise the evil intention or the upfriendly act by
defending himself, until the Independence of America
was achieved — these are a measure of the moral
reserves of wisdom and justice and strength within
that rich and profound nature. Be it added that the
importance, at least, of seeing that his services were
iiot lost to his country, or rendered ineffective, was
finaUy recognised by Congress at the beginning of
1779, when it sent Lafayette to France with a paper
annulling • the existing Commission, and appointing
Frankhn sole Minister-Plenipotentiary to the French
Court. At the end of that year it took a still
stronger step, by commanding Lee and his associates '^
—who had lingered on in Paris, doing more mischief
than ever, as being more desperate with rage — to
return to the States. Once they arrived there,
famUy interest was strong enough to secure for them
not only immunity but reward, and to enable them
to exercise their animosity, if not to achieve their
vengeance, upon the name of Franklin for many
years. It is time now to say something about what was,
from first to last, the chief subject of Frankhn's
labours in Europe, and the special sphere of his vic
tories : the Financing of the Revolution. That is a
1 William Lee and Izard. John Adams had returned to the
States early in the year, upon the joint-Commission being can
celled. He had even expressed an emphatic approval of that
"masterly stroke," as he called it.
295

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
subject which would require for its proper setting
forth, merely in a historical and descriptive way, an
article fully as long as this memoir. Only a page
or two are here available in which to indicate briefly
some of the causes and the conditions of his task,
and the way in which he achieved it.
When the Colonists decided to accept the alter
native of a war with England rather than recede
from their claims to essential autonomy, they esti
mated very imperfectly the vast reserves of power
at the disposal of a great and organised Kingdom.
Stiil less did they estimate fully the effect which
their own want of organisation was hkely to have
in keeping them weak, in spite of vitahty and a
stubborn purpose to be free. Of course they
entered upon the war with scarce a vestige of that
material provision which is a primary requisite, a
condition taken for granted, whenever civilised
peoples enter upon the long and exhausting labour
of murdering each other in masses large enough to
cover a field or fill a landscape. But this want of
material provision was a small thing compared to the
want of means of remedying the defect, the want of
means of mobilising the resources of the country to
that good end : in other words, the want of a
Government. Whatever the improvised body called
Congress might be, it was not in those days a
Government ; and in its varied lack of organic
powers, the most vital deficiency was the lack of
power to raise a revenue. Of three makeshifts in
lieu of that power which were within its function,
one served for a time, and served disastrously.
The second served all the time, but not well enough
to ensure success or to keep disaster at a year's
distance. If the third, and the least likely of all,
served incomparably well and to victorious effect,
that was because this expedient was entrusted to a
man in whose hands an oaten straw became as strong
296

HIS LATER LIFE
as a quarter-staff in those of others, and to whom
the utter desperation of things was but a casual
difficulty to be removed by thought and patience.
The expedient was that of borrowing money upon
the sole credit of a young nation fighting for exist
ence against the greatest power in the world.
Naturally the attempt to do anything so difficult
did not occupy a prominent place in the plans of
Congress at first. Danger and need compelled
recourse to it. But the attempt having once or
twice succeeded beyond expectation, though not
beyond demand, the lesson of experience was sagely
remembered and confidently put to use. To borrow
money abroad at intervals, and at intervds that grew
shorter and shorter, soon became a main part of the
budget of such substitute for a Chancellor of the
Exchequer as the inchoate Government of the
United States then possessed. Which means that
that Government depended more and more upon
Frankhn to keep it, and the whole system of things
to which it belonged, in existence. It was his
business to maintain the struggle for Independence
by his great labours at this side of the world as
truly as it was Washington's at that. And for the
upholding of the cause in Europe his services were
as great, his qudities as perfect, his trials as constant
and more severe, his personality as indispensable to
the saving of the situation from day to day, and the
achievement of a crowning success in the end, as
those of Washington in America. The story of the
financing of the Revolution by the one is indeed the
necessary counterpart of the story, more obviously
epic, of the captaining of its armies by the other;
and of the two, this is not the less heroic. The
greater difficulty of making this story interesting to
readers does not affect us here, where obvious lack
of space, and the scheme of this article, preclude the
effort to try. A word or two only must be said of
297

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
the two main forms which those ceaseless demands
for money and aid, the burden of his days and
nights during seven years, were wont to take.
The first was, a demand for loans, usually in
impossible amounts. An effective borrowing power
was one of the advantages immediately accruing to
Congress from Franklin's presence in Europe ; and
as soon as the fact was perceived, it was taken into
account for all, and if possible for more than all, it
was worth. First and last, it was worth an additiond
annual revenue, without which, under the existing
condition of semi-organisation and the essentid separa
tism of the States, the flag could not have been kept
flying at all. And it was Franklin, and Franklin
alone, who could find that revenue ; for no other
American had a grain of personal weight or influence
with those whom it was necessary to ded with for
these occasions, and who had to be induced to make
efforts that were often extremely difficult, with the
best will in the world to oblige. A stage was soon
reached, and it was reached again too often, when
he found it even difficult to set out upon the errand
enjoined him : the demand would be so impracticably
large, or (more often) would come so unconscionably
quick upon the heels of the granting of one which
had been a difficult business, but which (he had told
himself and others) would be the last for many
months. This was what he caUed " an after-clap " ;
and indeed his life was passed in a kind of sporadic
thunderstorm of such claps and after-claps in those
years. The other guise in which the demands upon
his influence came may rather be compared to a snow
storm. Congress soon got into a way of taking his
success for granted, and would draw upon him freely
on the strength of a loan which had yet to be
negotiated. Perhaps the first mention of the said
loan, and a shower of bills for the absorption
thereof, would reach him by the same post or the
298

HIS LATER LIFE
same packet. Still worse, it got into a way of
drawing upon him for great total amounts, in a
bewUdering multitude of bUls of all denominations,
vidthout any reference to a given loan, and with
but a bare general intimation that it was doing so,
or had done so ; and sometimes without even that.
Whatever transaction Congress engaged in that
had its reference and effect in Europe, that effect
was a burden thrown upon Frankhn. If it sent
other patriots thither on "financid missions," the
result was only that Franklin had to keep those
missionaries dive, besides taking up, "for the
honour of Congress," the bills which Congress
had drawn upon them. Not one of them could
ever raise a shUling. And he himself had prac
tically but one resource: his influence, essentially
a persond and individual influence, with the French
ministry. Congress seems to have imagined it was im
possible to exhaust that resource, or had no reluct
ance to abuse that influence.^ Franklin both feared
the one — a fear entirely for his country's sake — and
had, in regard to the other, scruples that are nobly
to his credit. But his patriotism, his one duty of
leaving no effort unmade when his country required
him, had dways the last word, and bade him go
forth once more. And if he went often when
the circumstances were such that he felt, and felt
with unselfish resentment, that the dignity of
America was being made questionable in the eyes of
strangers, and his own opinion of Congress was for
the moment, at least, anything but high — yet he
went: and he never went in vain. The fact that
he had, in many cases, to ask for what he him
self felt to be unreasonable and knew to be difficult
— this was one of the circumstances which made
his service so hard. But there were more such
^ More accurately, the devil drove, and it could not help itself;
though folk in Europe did not quite see that, not even Franklin.
299

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
circumstances — moral circumstances, materid cir
cumstances — than it is even possible to glance at
here. He had no help, not even sufficient clerical
help, and he had powerful plotting enemies, this
one man whose call and mission it was to keep
the credit of his country among the nations of
the world, to provide for all her manifold pur
poses and outlays in Europe, and even, in large
part, for the effective maintenance of the war of
liberation within her borders. What it cost him,
in mental and moral wear and tear, to have
rendered these services, we cannot estimate, but
we may say with confidence that it was more
than any other man then living in the world had
it in him to have pdd.
At least it was not paid in vdn : and the greatest
effort, perhaps, which he ever put forth is memor
ably associated with Washington's find campaign of
triumph. The gravity with which all men in America,
and chiefly Washington, looked forward to the cam
paign of 1 78 1 is matter of history ; so is the resolu
tion of England to end the rebellion that year. It
was then that Congress wrote to Franklin with such
urgency as it had seldom used. It was then that
Washington himself wrote to Franklin, virtudly
saying that it now lay with him, away there in
Passy, to save his country, if she was to be saved
at all. And it was then that Franklin, who was
at that hour at the utter end of all effort, not
sheerly miraculous, made one effort more : and
pleading in this direction, and pressing in that,
and making advantage for his country in all,
accumulated a more generous subsidy of money
and aids for the imperilled cause than ever before.
With this vital reinforcement the campaign of
1 78 1 — marked beyond aU others by energy, dash
and brilliance, not less than by victory — began.
It closed, for all the purposes of history, when
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HIS LATER LIFE
Lord Cornwdlis capitulated at Yorktown on the
19th of October. And then, though Franklin's
labours were not at an end, at least his work was
achieved: for the Independence of America was
won beyond recdl.
If his financid troubles were not yet over, that
was because it was still to be proved that Yorktown
was redly the End. The war against the European
dlies was prosecuted for some months longer, and
operations would even have been resumed in America,
could King George have had his way. But the
country was determined to support him no further
in a folly that had brought so many losses and so
much disgrace, and this feeling was voiced by
Parhament in such terms as even he could not dis
regard. On the 20th of March 1782, Lord North's
Administration (so-called) fell -, which means that
the king was compelled to dismiss his sorely-tried
favourites and to resign the government of the
country into the hands of statesmen. The men
who were now cdled to power, and who really
had a commission from the country to end the war,
were dl old-time friends to Franklin and to the
American cause : Rockingham, Shelburne, Conway,
Burke, Dunning, Howe, to say nothing of Charles
James Fox, who had visited Franklin at Passy. A
friendly letter from Franklin to Shelburne on
March 22, deftly set a-going what two hemispheres
were anxiously expecting — the Negotiations for
Peace. And vastly interesting Negotiations they pre
sently proved. All the circumstances which go to
make the secret history of great treaties and great
diplomatic congresses so ravishing were here present
in a very high degree, but I can only caU attention to
one fact that made for complexity and had its moral
consequences. America belonged to that " Northern
department," of the foreign world over which Lord
Shelburne, as it happened, exercised official cog-
301

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
nisance : whereas France belonged to the " Southern
department," and here Mr Fox was the presiding
genius. Consequently, the envoy who should treat
with Franklin was appointed by Shelburne, and was
answerable to him alone ; whUe he who should treat
with de Vergennes was one who came and went at
the bidding of Mr Fox. The envoy of Shelburne
was Mr Richard Oswald, a retired merchant, whose
talent as a negotiator consisted in an absolute honesty
and guilelessness which is only to be found in his
(and my) dear country.^ In their earlier, tentative
conferences, Franklin managed to negotiate in such
a way as to make the question at issue concern, not
the independence of America, which he took for
granted, but how much England was prepared to
surrender along with the Colonies. He was playing
for Canada, Nova Scotia, and, in fine, for the residue
of this poor country's possessions in North America :
though he was wilhng that she should keep the
Islands.^ And, by all appearance, he was playing a
winning game, when the introcession of his partner
spoUt his hand. The Peace Commission consisted
of four members, of whom he alone was virtuaUy
" in office " at this time. John Jay was in Madrid,
John Adams in Holland, and Henry Laurens a
prisoner (or very lately a prisoner) in England.
Sudden ill-health caused Franklin to summon Jay
to his assistance, who arrived at the end of June.
Now Jay was the most estimable American of his
generation and almost the most hkeable, but he was
not a cosmopolite. He was apt to feel that foreigners
1 Though a London merchant, Oswald was a pure Scot. He
was quite a stranger to Franklin, pace an important History of
the United States, which apparently confuses him with David
Hartley. 2 Meaning, of course, not Great Britain and Ireland, but the
West India Islands. They were commonly referred to in the
Colonies, and even in England, as the Islands in those days.
The bad habit of ignoring theirgeographical relation to America
is a product of later ignorance. 302

HIS LATER LIFE
were strange folk, anyhow ; and now, with or with
out good reason, he became possessed by a spirit of
suspicion so sincere that it would be easy to make
fun of it. With or without information on the point,
he was convinced that when the diplomatists of
Europe met round a table, no Americans being
present, they would certainly arrange matters, on
terms of mutud accommodation, to the disadvantage
of America. Seeing ulterior motives and sinister
designs where Franklin saw nothing but an
ordinary effect of official conservatism, he took
alarm at the term " Plantations or Colonies " in the
formd commission to treat which was given to
Oswdd early in July. Until these fears were
removed by the substitution of "The United
States," business had to stand still. Then, at the
end of September, the time was gone by for asking
Canada, Nova Scotia, etc. And now enters John
Adams, fuU of satisfaction with himself on the
score of some successes among the Dutch money
lenders, but still fuller of a certdn secret resentment,
the origin of which has been referred to on the
margin of a former page. Therefore he now ex
pressed his approvd of Mr Jay's noble conduct with
aggressive emphasis : an emphasis in which there
speaks the humourless patriot, but still more the
provincial ; and, more than either patriot or pro
vincial, the bitter, wounded, vain man with a
rankling grudge, happy to take or support any
course which he knew to be contrary to the feel
ing and sense of his Ulustrious colleague. John Jay
next renewed his proposal that they should not com
municate with the French mimstry regarding the pro
gress of their negotiations with England : and John
Adams impressively approved. The commission was
instructed by Congress to do nothing without the
knowledge and concurrence of their generous ally ;
but these two now said they would break that
303

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
instruction without a scruple. This placed Franklin
in a difficult position, and whatever course he took
he could hardly be in the right. But he saw that
the greater evU would be to place himself in conflict
with his colleagues just then. The juncture was
critical. Ministerial changes in England were antici
pated which might quash the peace negotiations even
yet and reopen the war. In the interests of all it
was desirable that not an hour should be wasted in
conflict or friction of any sort. He therefore gave
in, without further protest, to the will of the
majority. This was in October, and matters now went on
apace. Waiving details, there were three questions
of outstanding difficulty ; questions upon which each
party was either very sure of its right, or greatly
interested in asserting one. The first, second, and
third of these were disputed on behalf of the States
with good effect by Jay, Adams, and Franklin
respectively. Jay upheld manfully the right of the
States to expand westward, in defiance of some
restrictive Spanish claims which England was in
chned to favour. Adams vindicated the cldm of
the States to share in the Newfoundland fisheries
— not as a liberty granted by men or treaties, but
as a right belonging to them from the creation of
things — in a fine burst of angry eloquence in which
we have, for the only time in Europe, I think, a
glimpse of the better John Adams. But the third
question was the one that, from the very beginning
of the negotiations, had been found most intractable.
It had often been taken up, and been often put aside
again. Up to the last moment it appeared that upon
this question the treaty would be wrecked, even
within sight of signature. It was the question of
compensation to the Loyahsts, or those Americans
who had decided to stand by their king rather than
their country when the sundering hour had come in
304

HIS LATER LIFE
'76. If anything could exceed the opposition to
such a cldm by American feehng and American
opinion, it was the stress Idd upon maintaining it
by the English government and people. When
they had lost so much, and saved so little honour,
they were not going to forsake their friends in the
act of settlement. It was an honest feeling, though
the thought involved in it had certainly been sub
mitted to insufficient andysis. The reasons for a
very different feeling towards those unfortunates
on the part of their countrymen will readily
occur to the reader. No man in America was
more convinced than Franklin that the Loyalists
(or Royahsts, as he cdled them) ought to accept the
consequences of having w^arred unprosperously
agdnst their own land and its liberties. He was
none the less inflexible in that opinion because his
own son, WUliam Franklin, the late governor of
New Jersey, was among those Royalists and
now Uving as a refugee in England. When the
question was brought up again at the end of
November, the Enghsh commissioners (there were
now three) made a heroic attempt to carry their
point : and it appeared that if they should not
succeed, there must be a deadlock to the whole
process of peace-making. It was then that Franklin
quietly drew from his pocket a piece of paper stating
an unexpected counter-claim, so cogent, and of such
a kind, that, rather than face it or dispute it, the
English commissioners gave up their point at once,
and dso conceded, without further debate, the other
American cldms that were still under consideration.
All the many difficulties were gone like a dream.
On the day (November 30, 1 782) following this
" masterly stroke," the prehminary treaty was
sealed, signed, and delivered.
So far good. But to Franklin now fell the not very
agreeable duty of announcing this happy consumma-
u 305

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
tion to de Vergennes : of telling him, namely, that
his American allies had carried their negotiations to
a conclusion without once communicating with him,
and had settled all questions between themselves
and England without even the semblance of a respect
for the interests of France. The fact that this was
but a preliminary treaty, and that it definitely con
cluded nothing, did not lessen the extreme peculiarity,
to employ a mUd phrase, of the course taken by the
American commissioners. But it enabled Franklin
to offer, for what he acknowledged to have been " a
lack of bienseance," an ostensible excuse or extenua
tion, which de Vergennes made a virtue of accept
ing. He divined, however, that his old friend had
a better excuse which he was bound in honour not
to plead, and that his own disposition had been
overborne by his colleagues. Regarding them, he
said a little later, " They do not pretend to recognise
the rules of courtesy towards us : " which was a
little hard on Jay, though no injustice to Adams.
At any rate peace was secured, and by this secrecy
and celerity was snatched, apparently, from compli
cations and perils that would soon have subverted
the labours of dl the peacemakers.^ The definitive
^ For it must be added that in so profoundly distrusting the
intentions of the other Allies towards America at the last stage of
their adventure in common. Jay was either acting more wisely
than he knew, or else was possessed of definite knowledge which
he did not impart to either of his colleagues, certainly not to
both of them. I am not aware that the latter supposition has
ever been proved, and I think it is unlikely. He seems to have
been influenced by a certain intercepted document, which was
also known to Franklin, but which was not sufficient to shake
Franklin's confidence in the good faith of his friends. Neverthe
less, the more recent opening of the archives has shown that
when Spain became a party to the Alliance in 1779, the price of
that accession of strength was a Secret Treaty between France and
Spain, containing articles which were likely to have greatly
prejudiced the interests of America when it came to settling the
terms of peace.
It ought also to be added, to avert misconception on the part
of English readers who do not know their men, that though
306

HIS LATER LIFE
Treaty of Peace which was signed about a year
later (September 3, 1783) was virtuaUy identical,
as far as concerned America, with this preliminary
treaty, negotiated so ably by Jay, Adams, and
Franklin ; in which, to the astonishment of all the
world and the disgust of a large part of it, the
Americans got everything and gave nothing.
Franklin was kept long enough in France to be a
signatory to the definitive treaty, though he had
asked leave to return to America shortly after the
preliminary treaty was achieved. Congress ignored
his request, which was too reasonable a one for it to
acknowledge and yet refuse. After the signing of
the definitive treaty, he again urged his desire to be
released. StUl no notice was taken, save that in
August 1784 Jefferson was sent over to assist him
in transacting the "commercial business" of the
Republic : which business consisted in arranging
commercid treaties with various ancient European
kingdoms. Findly, in March 1785, Congress passed
a resolution permitting " the Honourable Benjamin
Franklin to return to America as soon as convenient."
Regarding the interval covered by those dates, I can
only say that it was filled with public services, not
more dignified, but less uneasy, than those of previous
years ; and with the enjoyment of an official status
and esteem, and an enthusiastic social respect and
liking, that are unparalleled in the history of legations,
if not of men. So when leave to return was at last
granted, and the venerable old man set out from
Passy upon his homeward journey one day in July,
Franklin could not share Jay's suspicions against those whom he
had every reason to trust and feel grateful to, this difference did
not indicate, nor create, any the smallest personal antagonism
between the two men. Jay was not an Arthur Lee nor a John
Adams — the only personal enemies Franklin ever had, and both
of them monomaniacs of vanity — but cherished for Franklin, then
and to the end of his life, an affection and a noble reverence
^hich were equally an honour to both good men.
u* 307

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
it was, says Jefferson, " as if the village had lost its
patriarch : " and the slow progress of his party
towards the coast was marked by a series of ovations.
It was indeed a sort of royal progress in other
senses ; for upon it becoming known that the state
of his health would ill stand the joltings of a long
carriage journey, one of the Queen's litters was
placed at his service. He carried with him also,
besides written memorials of the approval and respect
with which the court regarded his whole conduct
while in France, a portrait of the King framed in
four hundred and eight diamonds. From Havre he
crossed to Southampton, to meet the ship that was
appointed by Congress to bring him home. Every
thing, including the courtesies extended to him by
the British government, went to make those few
days on English soU a kind of moral Easter, a
resurrection time of kinder feehngs, if not of the
old endearment. Here the old associates within
possible reach raUied to him. Here he had a re
union and a sufficient reconciliation with his royahst
son. And here, especidly, he had three days of
happy communion with his dearest Enghsh friends,
the good Bishop of St Asaph and his family : who,
not to lose an hour of his company till he sailed,
came and took up their quarters at his inn. When
the time came, they saw him aboard ; and on the
night of July 27 the good ship put to sea — home
ward bound.
On September 13 she arrived in the Delaware,
opposite Philadelphia. And behold, upon the shore,
a vast multitude of people, filling the air with their
huzzas and thrice-welcomes !

Again he had appeared just where and when he
was needed. That was a fateful period in American
308

HIS LATER LIFE
history, and we cannot doubt that a perception of
the new dangers and the new needs of his country
was among the things that had made him most
eager to be home. The first effect of the cessation
of war had been to reved the imminence of anarchy,
and dl the evils due to an economic derangement,
a social unsettlement, and a pohticd inchoateness
or invahdity, such as no country ever displayed on
the morrow of its entry among the great nations
of the earth. In the language of physiology, one
may say that the United States was born non-viable
according to dl the accepted signs or criteria : and
some who had viewed its birth as a hateful portent,
now expected its timely decease as the rectification
of an error of nature. There were many in
America whose eyes strdned seaward toward the
home-coming Franklin as toward the one man whose
coming would yet save the country : Americans,
just like the English Government in 1782, " ex
pected everything from the comprehensive mind of
Dr Frankhn." So, whatever he was coming home
to do, it was apparently not to rest ; for it seemed
that his countrymen would never recogmse that he
was an old man so long as he was a living one.
His own Pennsylvania made the first demand upon
him, as having the first claim ; as having, also, her
own crisis as a commonwealth to weather, a crisis
which was viewed with concern by all the other
States. In the month following his arrival he was
elected to the Legislative CouncU of Pennsyl
vania, and then made President of the State by an
all but unanimous vote : his own vote being the
only one cast against him. So it was in the follow
ing year, and so dso in the third year ; at the end
of which term, the law forbidding a fourth election
of the same president permitted him to make his
escape from office. During that time he did much
to consolidate the political situation, and to improve
309

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
the social feeling and outlook in Pennsylvania. A
peculiar care for public instruction still possessed
him, and he was now able to carry out a long-
cherished scheme of his, in the founding and
inaugurating of a college for the education of
young Germans ; an enormous part of the whole
population of Pennsylvania — at one time about a
third — being of that nationality.
During one of these years, however, he rendered
more important services upon a greater plane of
things. A Convention of Delegates from all the
States was appointed in 1787, and began its sittings
on the 25th of May. Its mandate was to frame
a Constitution, in which the country might know
itself, and by which the Union might live. Despite
his age and physical infirmities — for he was now
in his eighty-second year, and racked by those two
most agonising of ailments, stone and acute gout
— it was felt to be needful that Franklin, not less
than Washington, should be of that body. And
it is doing no injustice, even to Washington, to
say that the man in all that assembly whose
presence could least have been spared was Franklin.
Of the character of the Convention and the history
of its momentous labours I can have few words
to say here. As to the first, however, it is to be
noted that, apart from the strife of interests as
between State and State, the Convention was
marked by a line of cleavage, then appearing for the
first time and never afterwards obhterated or closed,
but running through all American history. On
the one side was the Strong-government or Federd
party, headed by HamUton, and sympathised with
by Washington. On the other side was that party,
associated with the name of Jefferson, but of which
Franklin was really the moral father and founder :
the party of those whose more anxious care was to
give all possible scope to the principle of local
310

HIS LATER LIFE
autonomy, and to safeguard the fact of popular
freedom."- Franklin's voice was always in favour of
the more generous provision, the ampler liberty ;
was always earnestly opposed to whatever might
tend to make governmentd oppression at some
future time possible, and still more to whatever
could have a tendency to depress the self-respect
or inhibit the honest ambition of the poorest man.
Some of his finest utterances were in maintenance
of that plea; and it is a symptom of the noble
feeling with which Franklin was regarded by the
noblest men, that HamUton would give his support
to Franklin's recommendations, though they were
essentidly mord criticisms of the policy which he
himself thought best for the country. Many times
in the course of the four months' labour of the
Convention did Frankhn's wisdom and his humour,
and StUl more that spirit of cheerfulness and good
will, and that suggestion, which his every word
somehow conveyed, of a common purpose animating
them dl alike, and making them all friends and
assistants of each other in the same quest — many a
time did this rare and complex talent of Franklin's
remove a difficulty, or inspire the right temper in
which to approach it. Yet there was one question
upon which, it seemed, for aU that could be argued
by the ablest or urged by the best, the Union
must go to pieces. This was the question of the
proportion in which the different States, varying
so vastly as they did in size and population
and wealth and historical importance, should be
represented in the Legislature. The small States,
like New Jersey, claimed to count equally
1 Called at first Republican, and at a later time Democratic.
The two terms are now opposed, the latter designating the
school of Franklin and Jefferson, and the former— a more Ancient
Influence in human affairs, I suspect. 311

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
with great ones, like Pennsylvania and Virginia.
Round this question it was war utter and un
compromising : war to the death, or to the dis
ruption of the Union. For those who were in
the right could not give way, and those who were
in the wrong would not. A way out was found in
the end by Franklin, who, not in one act, but by
two approximations, developed his plan for dlaying
the fears of the littie States, lest they be overborne,
and yet saving the larger ones from what would
have become, had it been practicable at all, a tyranny
as impudent as it was unjust. The plan was to have
two Houses, and give a proportional representation
in the one and an equal representation in the other,
and to divide or balance their functions so as to
secure just government for the whole. This, the
central or the basic article in the Constitution of the
United States, was a gift of Franklin to his country
not unworthy to rank with his earlier services. And
when at last the draft Constitution was framed, and
it was time to put it to the House for acceptance in
its entirety, that it might then be submitted to the
nation for approval, it was Franklin who carried it
over its final perils by a speech of matchless wisdom,
tolerance, and hflmour. His labours had the only
reward which a heart like his could desire. For
though but two and a half years of life remained to
him when the Convention finished its work in
September 1787, he yet lived long enough to see
justified that confidence in the good-citizen qualities
of his countrymen, and that faith in the great future
of the nation, which he had held unwaveringly, and
without an effort, in the midst of conditions and in
spite of signs that had seemed to other men desperate.
Yet even the termination of his third Presidentship
of Pennsylvania in the autumn of 1788, if it ended
his official career, did not end his public services.
312

HIS LATER LIFE
He still plied, from time to time, a pen that influenced
opinion, in spite of anonymity, as no other could.
Some of the wisest and wittiest of his writings belong
to the last two years of his life, so full of suffering as
those years were. Most of that period was passed in
bed, and the intermissions of agomsing pdn were fe-w
and brief; yet through aU he kept at bay dike the
dullness of old age and the peevishness of physicd
distress. His last public act was to forward, as
President of an Abolition Society, a memorid to
Congress asking it " to devise a means of removing
this inconsistency [the mdntenance of negro slavery}
from the character of the American people." His
last contribution to literature was a brilliant letter,
signed "Historicus," in refutation of a pro-slavery
speech in Congress. That was on March 23, 1790.
He was now bearing up, with patience though not
with success, against a crushing combination of
mdadies. One day his breathing ceased dtogether,
and he was thought to be dead. But he raUied, and
at once resumed his cheerful and benevolent interest
in dl good causes and efforts. On AprU 17 he
passed into a state of coma, and died in the evening
about ten o'clock.
His own State honoured him with great obsequies ;
and Congress voted that " the usud badge of
mourning be worn for a month." It was not much.
But it was dl the recognition of Frankhn's un-
equdled services which Congress had ever vouch
safed to make. The true scene of nationd mourn
ing for the death of Franklin was in France ; and
there the most striking tributes, both of affection
and of intellectud commemoration by the greatest
men, were pdd to his worth. Later generations of
Americans have recogmsed -with pdn that the glories
of thdr Revolution are a httie imperfect because of
an act of justice forgone, are a little dimmed to dl
313

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
honest eyes by an appearance of insufficient grati
tude — even the costless gratitude of a " thank you "
was begrudged — to such a servant, citizen, and
patriot as no other country ever had in the history
of man.

314

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