Chapter 2: Childhood Education

As the story goes, when I was born – before I even opened my eyes - my first act was to grab a copy of John Locke’s Essay on Toleration and shout, “Ingenius!”

Obviously, that’s not even close to being true. I just wanted to see if you would believe it. But I did love to read from a very early age. In fact, I don’t remember a time where I wasn’t able to read. That is true. But you probably don’t know what to believe. I’m sorry, I’ll stick to the script now!

I was always reading. I was stuck in town of 8,000 people. Books were my outlet to the larger world. They was my drug, altering my mind and making me crave more. Any money that I earned went into attaining books to devour. I loved history and philosophy, but also the new genre known as “novels”. My favorite was Pilgrim’s Progress, an allegory on a Puritan’s journey to salvation. The religious aspect didn’t to me. The book grabbed my attention in the way it laid out a beautiful adventure for the main character, with each person and obstacle he encountered symbolizing some larger idea. Its style moved me to collect other works by the author, John Bunyan. After reading them, I sold them to others. I’d use that profit to then turn around and buy other books, specifically a series of R. Burton’s Historical Collections, which were cheap, quick histories for me to learn. I saw the value of learning history early on as I often found similarities with current events. Remember history may not repeat itself but it sure as shit rhymes.

My father, Josiah, had a little library in the house. It contained mostly religious speeches and arguments, but I read and devoured it all. I have often regretted that, at a time when I had such a thirst for knowledge, I did not have access to a larger collection of proper books. Consider that education and time are of equal value yet one is infinite while the other is limited. There were three specific books, however, that deeply influenced me. I read Plutarch’s Parallel Lives often. It was an excellent collection of biographies of the important Roman and Greek leaders. These stories also provided a series of excellent moral codes to walk away with. I don’t regret one second that I spent with that book. I also read Daniel Defoe’s Essay on Projects and Cotton Mather’s Essays to do Good. Both of these books would be hugely influential in shaping my enthusiasm for helping out the community while also providing me the blueprints to do so.

All of my older brothers were apprentices to various business trades. Dyers, tanners, etc. I, however, was expected to fulfill my father’s duty to the Church as a minister. It seemed to him that I would be a satisfactory contribution to the service of Christ. All of my father’s friends considered me very scholarly, so he was encouraged to send me to grammar school at eight years old. He knew that genius without education is like silver in a mine: it’s not valuable unless you work to attain it. My Uncle Benjamin was also convinced that I would make a good minister. (Great judges of character, these men.) Uncle Ben proposed to give me his shorthand volumes of different religious sermons so that I would learn about the valuable moral qualities necessary to be a good shepherd.

I spent a little less than a year in that grammar school. During that time, I moved to head of the class, skipped to the next grade, and was on my way to skipping that next class. Before I did that, however, my father realized he would not be able to afford the expenses of a college education. The family was too large and, honestly, the salary for a minister was meager. At least, that is what I overheard him say to his friends.

Josiah took me out of grammar school and placed me in a school for writing and arithmetic with George Brownell, a semi-famous teacher. Through his encouragement, I became decent at writing, though I failed at arithmetic.

When I was ten, I was taken out of school in order to help my father in his business as a tallow chandler and soap boiler. It was not the business my father had trained to work, but there was little demand for dying clothing in Puritanical New England. I bet blues and purples would’ve ran counter to the uniform code of various grays and other earth tones. Since the demand was low, and he had a large family to provide for, Josiah changed his business to soap boiling. Essentially the trade involved boiling animal fat to make both soap and the wax candles. It was awful. I was responsible for cutting candle-wicks, filling the molds for candles, attending the shop, and basically any other odd jobs and errands. I hated the job. It was boring and the boiling fats stank ferociously.

Throughout my childhood, I was drawn to the sea, which is unsurprising since I lived in a port city. Josiah didn’t approve of this, of course. But he couldn’t really stop me from day-dreaming about being a sailor. Boston’s port was a hub for so many sailors of so many different languages and colors. Their stories of adventures in far-off lands were captivating to a brilliant, energetic, and restless prodigy like myself.

I lived near the ocean so it was a part of my life. I learned how to swim very well at an early age, even inventing a hand paddle that would later be improved upon and called a “swimming flipper”. Apparently I’m in the International Swimming Hall of Fame. No big deal. I also became excellent at managing the boats I was in, often being given the role of captain in the canoes and other boats with my friends.

Now, humble brag, I was the leader amongst my gang of boys. Big surprise, I know. And I definitely led them into trouble a few times. There was one time that stands out. It actually showed my tendency towards civic duty and progress, if I do say so myself. Granted, everyone else referred to it as “vandalism”. Like, they unanimously agreed on that.. I’ll let you decide, though. Here are the details:

There was a salt marsh that surrounded part of the Boston’s Mill Pond. My gang would fish for minnows in the Mill Pond by standing at the edge of the salt marsh and cast out our lines over it into the water. After much trampling, we had made this marsh a swamp that our feet would sink into it. Seeing the problem, I came up with a very simple solution: build a pier. I spotted a giant pile of stones near the marsh that I immediately realized would be perfect for the project. It didn’t matter to me that this pile of stones was going to be used to build a house. In my mind, minnow fishing was far more important. So we waited for night after the workers left, and I led my squad in transporting these stones, sometimes 2-3 lads carrying a stone together, over to build the pier. Working diligently, we built our wharf.

This success story lasted until the next morning, when the workers returned. They found out who did it and reported us to our fathers for a little Puritanical discipline. I protested  that the project was useful, but Josiah convinced me that nothing is useful which is not honest. Then he slapped the shit out of me with his belt.

A Point on Reality and Practicality

This story of the fishing wharf was a valuable lesson on virtue and honesty. It may have felt a bit naïve, but it was virtuous nonetheless. In a philosophical world, it worked, but reality had proven time and time again the usefulness in dishonesty.

That’s the thing about reality: it really helped me develop a strong sense of practicality. Consider this, I eventually developed a reputation as a “philosopher” later in life which, you know, I totally embraced since it made me look good. But it was never really how I would’ve chosen to categorize my work. “Philosophy” implied a level of abstract theory that took people out of the constraints of the real world and put them into a unobstructed plane of existence. In this alternate world, people could theoretically behave one way or think another way. This abstract thinking didn’t really work for me. It’s not useful to think that way. What’s the point of thinking about how people would act in an unobstructed state of nature when our current state of civilization has numerous obstructions like poverty, war, and suffering? It is not useful for a person – who is currently starving – to think about “what-if” situations. What if they had spent their time focusing on surviving, instead?

I tend to lose patience on discoveries that do nothing to improve the lives of everyone. I hate ignorance and I support any venture that will brighten our understanding of the dark universe we live in. But we need to go into every discovery with a goal to improve life for everyone, not just a certain few.

That’s one reason why I never could connect with Calvinist Puritanism. Their whole theory is that it is pre-determined for everyone on whether they are going to Heaven or Hell before they are born. The only thing that could potentially change this is a person’s faith in God. I mean, that’s bleak. And it’s pretty dumb. It ignores the fact that faith is not what makes society better. Active community projects make society better. Being good to each other makes society better. That’s practical though, for some reason, not realistic?

So, being an old man, I have proceeded to aimlessly ramble on and I have completely forgotten where I was. I’m normally a better and more organized writer. However, this autobiography is technically for my own private collection and, therefore, is a little less formal. One doesn’t shower and dress up when they are lounging in their own homes after all. But back to the story!