The
Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
INTRODUCTORY
NOTE
BENJAMIN
Meantime
The first
five chapters of the Autobiography were composed in
BENJAMIN
FRANKLIN HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY 1706-1757
TWYFORD, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's, 1771.
The country-seat of Bishop Shipley, the good bishop, as Dr. Franklin used to style him.
DEAR 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 you were with me in
After the words "agreeable to" the words
"some of" were interlined and afterward effaced.
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 advantages
authors have in a second edition to correct some faults of the first. So I might, besides correcting the faults,
change some sinister accidents and events of it for others more favorable. 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 without 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," &c., but some vain thing immediately followed. Most people dislike 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 productive 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 mentioned happiness of my past life to His kind
providence, 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, 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 particulars relating to our ancestors. From these notes I learned that the family
had lived in the same village, Ecton, in Northamptonshire, for three hundred
years, and how much longer he knew not (perhaps from the time when the name of
Franklin, that before 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 continued 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 grandfather 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 Wellingborough, 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 distance from my papers, and if these are not lost in my
absence, you will among them find many more particulars.
Thomas 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 himself for the
business of scrivener; became a considerable 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 17O2, 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
apprenticeship at
<2> Here follow in the margin the words, in brackets,
"here insert it," but the poetry is not given. Mr. Sparks informs us
(Life of Franklin, p. 6) that these volumes had been preserved, and were in
possession of Mrs. Emmons, of
This obscure family of ours was early in the Reformation,
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 till about the end of Charles the Second's reign, when
some of the ministers that had been outed for nonconformity 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 wife with
three children into
"Because to be a libeller (says he)
I hate it with my heart;
From Sherburne town, where now I dwell
My name I do put here;
Without offense 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 grammar-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
were afterwards able to obtain--reasons that be 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 profession generally, and that by mild,
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
tallow-chandler and sope-boiler; a business he 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 little 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; however, 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 sometimes 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 mill-pond,
on the edge of which, at high water, we used to stand to fish for minnows. By much trampling, we had made it a mere
quagmire. My proposal 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 surprised
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 like to know something of his person and
character. He had an excellent
constitution 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 sometimesdid 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 keeping him close 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 day if I am asked I can scarce tell a few 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
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
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 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 dislike 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 construct 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
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 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 principal future events of my life.
This bookish inclination at length determined my father to
make me a printer, though he had already one son (James) of that
profession. In 1717 my brother James
returned from
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 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 bad been of great use
to me in the course of my life, and was a principal means of my advancement, 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 confuting 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, perhaps 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 educating the female sex in learning, and
their abilities 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 remark, 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 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
necessity 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
certain 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 extremely
ambitious. My time for these exercises
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 16 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
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
printing-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 temperance 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
Understanding, and the Art of Thinking, by Messrs. du
While I was intent on improving my language, I met with an
English grammar (I think it was Greenwood'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 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 reading Shaftesbury and Collins, become a real doubter in many
points of our religious doctrine, I found this method safest for myself and
very embarrassing 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
any thing 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
conceive 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 I 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
inculcate my opinions, and persuade men into measures that I have been from
time to time engag'd in promoting; 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
every one 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 prevent 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 undisturbed 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:
"Men should be taught as if you taught them not,
And things unknown 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 want of sense (where a man is so unfortunate as
to want it) some apology for his want 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
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 excited 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 exquisite pleasure of finding it met with their
approbation, 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 convey'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 performances was pretty
well exhausted and then I discovered it, when I began to be considered a little
more by my brother's acquaintance, and in a manner 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 shortening it, which
at length offered in a manner unexpected.<3>
<3> 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.
One of the pieces in our newspaper on some political point,
which I have now forgotten, gave offense to the Assembly. He was taken up, censur'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
before 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 resented 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 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 New 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 changing 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 contrivance was that my old indenture
should be return'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; however, 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 freedom, presuming that he would not venture to
produce the new indentures. It was not
fair in me to take this advantage, and this I therefore reckon one of the first
errata of my life; but the unfairness of it weighed little with me, when under
the impressions of resentment for the blows his passion too often urged him to
bestow upon me, though he was otherwise not an ill-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
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 obnoxious to
the governing party, and, from the arbitrary 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
My inclinations for the sea were by this time worne out, or
I might now have gratify'd them. But,
having 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 he may employ you."
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
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 canoes on the
shore, and we made signs, and hallow'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 meantime, 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 in to
bed; but, having read somewhere that cold water drank plentifully was good for
a fever, I follow'd the prescription, sweat plentiful most of the night, my
fever left me, and in the morning, crossing 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
At his house I lay that night, and the next morning 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 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
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 cloaths 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 Secondstreet, 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 knowing the difference of money, and the greater
cheapness nor the names of his bread, I made 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 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
appearance. Then I turned and went down
Chestnut-street and part of Walnut-street, eating my roll all the way, and,
corning 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, looking in the
faces of 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, 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
The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new
printer; and when we found him, "Neighbor," 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 projects; while Bradford, 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 little doubts, to explain all his views, what interests he reli'd on,
and in what manner he intended to proceed.
I, who stood by and heard all, saw immediately that one of them was a
crafty old sophister, and the other a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was greatly
surpris'd 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
ingenious young man, of excellent character, much respected in the town, clerk
of the Assembly, and a pretty poet.
Keimer made verses too, but very indifferently. 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' something 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 particular religion, 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 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 reading, 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 Newcastle, 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, assuring 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 my age. He said I
appear'd a young man of promising parts, and therefore should be encouraged;
the printers at Philadelphia were 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 of 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 little 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
About the end of April, 1724, a little vessel offer'd for
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, 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 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 impropriety 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 declining 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 philosophy, 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, seeing no prospect of an accommodation between my brother and me, he
gave his consent to my returning again to Philadelphia, advis'd me to behave
respectfully 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
The sloop putting in at
At
At
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
His drinking continu'd, about which we sometimes
quarrell'd;, for, when a little intoxicated, he was very fractious. Once, in a boat on the