But in all his rencontres with the false christians, he adhered strictly to the spirit of Socrates, as being perfectly congenial to his own. Instead of blunt contradictions and positive assertions, he would put modest questions; and after obtaining of them concessions of which they did not foresee the consequences, he would involve them in difficulties and embarrassments, from which they could never extricate themselves. Had he possessed a vanity capable of being satisfied with the triumph of wit over dulness, he might long have crowed the master cock of this Socratic pit. But finding that his victories seldom produced any practical good; that they were acquired at a considerable expense of time, neglect of business, and injury of his temper, which was never formed for altercation with bigots, he abandoned it by degrees, retaining only the habit of expressing himself with a modest diffidence. And not only at that time, but ever afterwards through life, it was remarked of him, that in argument he rarely used the words certainly, undoubtedly, or any others that might convey the idea of being obstinately conceited of his own opinion. His ordinary phrases were—I imagine—I suppose--or, it appears to me, that such a thing is so and so—or, it is so, if I am not mistaken. By such soothing arts he gradually conciliated the good will of his opponents, and almost always succeeded in bringing them over to his wishes. Hence he used to say, it was great pity that sensible and well-meaning persons should lessen their own usefulness by a positive and presumptuous way of talking, which only serves to provoke opposition from the passionate, and shyness from the prudent, who rather than get into a dispute with such self-conceited characters, will hold their peace, and let them go on in their errors. In short, if you wish to answer one of the noblest ends for which tongues were given to rational beings, which is to inform or to be informed, to please and to persuade them, for heaven's sake, treat their opinions, even though erroneous, with great politeness.
"Men must be taught as though you taught them not,"
And things unknown propos'd as things forgot,"
says Mr. Pope; and again
"To speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence;
For want of modesty is want of sense."
CHAPTER XII
So late as 1720, there was but one newspaper in all North America, and even this by some was thought one too many so little reading was there among the people in those days. But believing that the reading appetite, weak as it was, ran more on newspapers than any thing else, James Franklin took it into his head to start another paper. His friends all vowed it would be the ruin of him; but James persevered, and a second newspaper, entitled "The New England Courant," was published. What was the number of subscribers, after so long a lapse of time, is now unknown; but it was Ben's humble lot to furnish their papers after having assisted to compose and work them off.
Among his friends, James had a number of literary characters, who, by way of amusement, used to write for his paper. These gentlemen frequently visited him at his office, merely for a little chat, and to tell how highly the public thought of their pieces Ben attended closely to their conversation, and happening to think they were no great wits, he determined to cut in and try his hand among them. But how to get his little adventures into the paper was the question, and a serious one too; for he knew very well that his brother, looking on him as hardly more than a child, would not dream of printing any thing that he knew had come from his pen. Stratagem of course must be resorted to. He took his time, and having written his piece pretty much to his mind, he copied it in a disguised hand, and when they were all gone to bed, slyly shoved it under the door of the office; where it was found next morning. In the course of the day, his friends dropping in as usual, James showed them the stranger paper; a caucus was held, and with aching heart Ben heard his piece read for their criticism. It was highly applauded: and to his greater joy still, among their various conjectures as to the author, not one was mentioned who did not hold a distinguished reputation for talents! Encouraged by such good success of this his first adventure, he wrote on, and sent to the press, in the same sly way, several other pieces, which were equally approved, keeping the secret till his slender stock of information was pretty completely exhausted, when he came out with the real author.
His brother, on this discovery, began to entertain a little more respect for him, but still looked on and treated him as a common apprentice. Ben, on the other hand, thought that, as a brother, he had a right to greater indulgence, and sometimes complained of James as rather too rigorous. This difference in opinion rose to disputes, which were often brought before their father, who either from partiality to Ben, or his better cause, generally gave it in his favour. James could not bear these awards of his father in favour of a younger brother, but would fly into a passion and treat him with abuse even to blows. Ben took this tyrannical behaviour of his brother in extremely ill part; and he somewhere says that it imprinted on his mind that deep-rooted aversion to arbitrary power, which he never lost, and which rendered him through life such a firm and unconquerable enemy of oppression. His apprenticeship became insupportable, and he sighed continually for an opportunity of shortening it, which at length unexpectedly offered.
An article in his paper, on some political subject, giving great offence to the assembly, James was taken up; and because he would not discover the author, was ordered into confinement for a month. Ben also was had up and examined before the council, who, after reprimanding, dismissed him, probably because deeming him bound, as an apprentice, to keep his master's secrets.
Notwithstanding their private quarrels, this imprisonment of his brother excited Ben's indignation against the assembly; and having now, during James' confinement, the sole direction of the paper, he boldly came out every week with some severe pasquinade against "The little tyrants of Boston." But though this served to gratify his own angry feelings, and to tickle James, as also to gain himself the character of a wonderful young man for satire; yet it answered no good end, but far contrariwise, proved a fatal blow to their newspaper; for at the expiration of the month, James's enlargement was accompanied with an order from the assembly, that "James Franklin should no longer print the newspaper entitled the New England Courant."
This was a terrible thunder-clap on poor James and his whole scribbling squad; and Ben could find no lightning rod to parry the bolt. A caucus, however, of all the friends was convoked at the printing-office, to devise ways and means of redress. One proposed this measure and another that; but the measure proposed by James himself was at length adopted. This was to carry on the newspaper under Ben's name. But, said some, will not the assembly haul you over the coals for thus attempting to whip the d–l round the stump?
No, replied James.
Aye, how will you prevent it?
Why, I'll give up Ben's indentures.
So then you'll let Ben run free?
No, nor that neither; for he shall sign a new contract.
This was to be sure a very shallow arrangement. It was however carried into immediate execution, and the paper continued in consequence to make its appearance for some months in Ben's name. At length a new difference arising between the brothers, and Ben knowing that James would not dare to talk of his new contract, boldly asserted his freedom!
His numerous admirers will here blush for poor Ben, and