THE NEWSPAPER.
On the seventeenth day of January, 1721, James Franklin began to issue a newspaper, called "The New England Courant." It was the third one at the time in the whole country. The first paper—"The Boston Newsletter"—was established in 1704, two years before the birth of Benjamin. It was only a half-sheet of paper, about the size of an eight by twelve inch pane of glass, "in two pages folio, with two columns on each page." Consequently, it could not have contained more printed matter than is now compressed into half a page of one of the Boston dailies. Yet it was considered a very important undertaking for the times.
When James Franklin proposed to start the third paper in America, some of his friends thought it was a wild project, and endeavoured to dissuade him from it. They saw nothing but ruin before him, and used every persuasion to lead him to abandon the enterprise. They thought that two newspapers, such as would now excite a smile by their inferior size, were quite enough for the country. Take this fact, in connection with the present abundance of papers, and the contrast presents a striking view of the progress of America since that day. At that time there was not a daily paper in the land. Now there are eight in the city of Boston alone, having an aggregate daily circulation of about one hundred and twenty-five thousand, which would amount to nearly forty million sheets in a year,—more than enough to furnish every man, woman, and child in the country with one sheet each. All this from the daily press of Boston, where, one hundred and forty years ago, it was thought that a third weekly newspaper, scarcely large enough to wrap a baker's loaf in, could not be supported! Bind them into volumes, containing one hundred sheets each, and we have an enormous library of daily newspapers, numbering four hundred thousand volumes, the annual production of the Boston daily press in 1860! And this only the aggregate of eight different papers, while Boston alone now has one hundred and forty papers and periodicals of all sorts, and the State of Massachusetts nearly three hundred! How marvellous the change since Franklin was a poor printer-boy!
But look at these eight daily papers of Boston again. Suppose they measure a yard each in width, upon an average, when opened;—here we have one hundred and twenty-five thousand yards of newspapers emanating daily from only eight presses of Franklin's native city; which is equal to seventy-one miles per day, and four hundred and twenty-six miles per week, and twenty-two thousand one hundred and fifty-two miles in a year! This is truly surprising. Almost paper enough from the eight daily presses of Boston alone, every year, to reach around the earth!
Or, suppose we weigh these papers. If ten of them weigh a single pound, then each day's issue weighs twelve thousand five hundred pounds, each week's issue amounts to seventy-five thousand pounds, which swells the annual aggregate to about four million pounds. Load this yearly production upon waggons, one ton on each, and we have two thousand and two horse loads of newspapers from these eight presses in a year! Again, we say, how marvellous the change!
If eight daily papers of Boston throw off this vast amount of reading-matter in a year, what immense quantities are supplied by all the presses in the land! Could the actual statistics be laid before us in round numbers, doubtless the most credulous even would be amazed at the result.
But to return. James decided to issue his paper, notwithstanding the advice of some of his friends to the contrary, and he thus opened the subject to Benjamin:—
"I have resolved to issue a paper, and it will require our united exertions to make it go. No doubt I shall meet with opposition, and perhaps shall fail in the attempt, but I have determined to fail trying."
"What particular service can I render?" inquired Benjamin.
"Aside from your usual work of type-setting, you are qualified to look after the composition and spelling of the articles in each number, and a part of your work shall be to deliver the paper to subscribers from week to week."
"And be collector, too, I suppose," added Benjamin, rather fancying the idea of issuing a paper from the office.
"As you like about that," answered his brother, "though it may be convenient, often, to have you render such a service."
"I suppose you don't mean to make me editor also?" he added, rather jestingly; probably not dreaming that he should ever conduct the publication.
"I think not at present," was his brother's reply. "Printer, news-carrier, and collector, will be as much honour as you can withstand at once;" and he had as little idea of the part Benjamin would play in the work as the boy had himself.
Accordingly the paper was issued at the appointed time, creating quite a stir in the community, and provoking remarks pro and con concerning its appearance, character, and prospects. Agreeably to the arrangement, Benjamin delivered the numbers to subscribers, and perhaps he sold the paper about the streets, thus acting as one of the first newsboys on this western continent.
Among the friends of James Franklin, and the patrons of his paper, were several men who possessed considerable talent for writing, and they were accustomed to assemble at the printing-office, and discuss questions connected with the circulation of the paper. Benjamin's ears were usually open to their conversation,—and he heard the merits of different articles set forth, and learned that certain ones were quite popular, and elicited favourable remarks from readers generally. This excited his ambition, and he earnestly desired to try his own ability in writing for the paper. He feared, however, that his composition would not be regarded favourably, if it were known who was the author; so he hit upon this expedient. He resolved to write an anonymous article, in his very best style, and get it into his brother's hand so as not to awaken his suspicion. Accordingly, the article was prepared, and at night it was tucked under the printing-office door, where James found it in the morning. As usual, several of his writers came in about their usual time, and Benjamin had the happiness of hearing the following discussion:—
"Here is a good article, that I found under the door this morning," said James, at the same time holding it up.
"Who is the author of it?" inquired one.
"It is anonymous," replied James, "and I have not the least idea who wrote it."
"What is the subject?" asked another; and the subject was announced.
"Let us hear it read," proposed a third. "You read it aloud to us, James." So James proceeded to read the article aloud, while all listened with deep interest. All the while Benjamin was busily employed at his work, though his ears were never more willing to hear. You may be sure that he felt rather queerly while his composition was undergoing this test, and a close observer might have observed a sly, comical twinkle of his eye. The reading went on without one of the company dreaming that the author stood at their elbow.
"Capital!" exclaimed one, as the last line was read. "Who can the author be?"
"As a general thing," said James, "I shall not insert articles from persons unknown to me, but this is so good that I shall publish it."
"By all means," said one of the company. "We shall soon find out the author; it is a difficult matter to keep such things secret for a long time."
"The author is evidently a person of ability," added another; "every sentence in that article is charged with thought. I should judge that he wanted only culture to make him a writer of the first class."
"Publishing the article will be as likely as anything to bring out the author," said James.
It was decided to print the article, all having approved of the same, much to the satisfaction of Benjamin, who awaited the decision with some anxiety. Now he scarcely knew how to act in regard to the piece, whether to father it at once, or still conceal its parentage. On the whole, however, he decided to withhold its authorship for the present, and try his hand again in the same way. Much encouraged by the success of his first effort, Benjamin was prepared to produce even a better article on the second trial, which was discussed and approved in the same way as the first. Thus he wrote, and put under the door at night, a number of articles, all of which were pronounced good by James and his friends. It was a time of much interest and excitement to Benjamin, since he was the "unknown character" so much extolled by the patrons of the "Courant." To hear his own articles remarked upon and praised, when no one dreamed that a boy like himself could be the author, was well suited to stir up his feelings, if not to inflate his vanity. Many persons in like circumstances would be allured into indiscretions and improprieties. But Benjamin wisely kept his own secrets, while he industriously continued to set up types, fearing that disclosure at the present time might knock all his plans into "pie."
There is no doubt that this was one of the incidents of Benjamin's boyhood that decided his future eminent career. It was a good thing to bring out his talents as a writer thus early, and it evidently fostered his love of an exercise that was of the first importance in the improvement of his mind. From the time that he wrote the first article which he put under the door of the printing-office, he did not cease to write more or less for the public eye. He had written before, as we have seen, but his father had rather put a damper on his composing for the public to read, and, besides, the newspaper was a channel of communicating with readers altogether new to him. It was well suited to awaken deep interest in his heart, and to incite him to put forth his noblest efforts.
The great English statesman, Canning, was sent to school at Eton, at twelve years of age, where he originated a mimic House of Commons among his schoolmates. Here they established a boy periodical, called the "Microcosm." It was a weekly publication, and issued from Windsor. It was conducted "after the plan of the 'Spectator,' the design being to treat the characteristics of the boys at Eton as Addison and his friends had done those of general society." In this paper several members of the school figured with credit to themselves, though no one was more earnest to sustain it than young Canning. It became one of the prominent influences that decided his future course, bringing out his talents, and stimulating his mind to labour in this honourable way. It also exerted a decided influence upon the character of another boy, named Frere, who afterwards shone as a writer in the pages of the "Anti-Jacobin."
At the present day, in many seminaries and village lyceums, several literary enterprises are sustained, to the no small advantage of the young who become personally interested in it. Every youth who desires to cultivate his mental faculties ought to hail such enterprises with joy, and pledge his noblest efforts to sustain them. It may be that it is discouragingly difficult for him to write at first; but let him persevere, with patience and firm resolve, and he will prove to himself that "practice makes perfect." There is no better exercise for his mind than this, and none better adapted to inspire him with a dauntless resolve to acquire knowledge.
The Mysterious Contributor.—See page 123.