The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin by Benjamin Franklin

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
1706-1757

TWYFORD, at the Bishop of St. Asaph's,[0] 1771.
[0] The country-seat of Bishop Shipley, the good bishop, as Dr.
Franklin used to style him.—B.
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 England, and the journey I
undertook for that purpose. Imagining it may be equally agreeable to[1] 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.
[1] After the words "agreeable to" the words "some of" were
interlined and afterward effaced.—B.
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.

The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin by Benjamin Franklin