Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin

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[Illustration: "Many pleasant walks we four had together"]

Ralph was inclin'd to pursue the study of poetry, not doubting but he
might become eminent in it, and make his fortune by it, alleging that
the best poets must, when they first began to write, make as many
faults as he did. Osborne dissuaded him, assur'd him he had no genius
for poetry, and advis'd him to think of nothing beyond the business he
was bred to; that, in the mercantile way, tho' he had no stock, he
might, by his diligence and punctuality, recommend himself to
employment as a factor, and in time acquire wherewith to trade on his
own account. I approv'd the amusing one's self with poetry now and
then, so far as to improve one's language, but no farther.

On this it was propos'd that we should each of us, at our next
meeting, produce a piece of our own composing, in order to improve by
our mutual observations, criticisms, and corrections. As language and
expression were what we had in view, we excluded all considerations of
invention by agreeing that the task should be a version of the
eighteenth Psalm, which describes the descent of a Deity. When the
time of our meeting drew nigh, Ralph called on me first, and let me
know his piece was ready. I told him I had been busy, and, having
little inclination, had done nothing. He then show'd me his piece for
my opinion, and I much approv'd it, as it appear'd to me to have great
merit. "Now," says he, "Osborne never will allow the least merit in
anything of mine, but makes 1000 criticisms out of mere envy. He is
not so jealous of you; I wish, therefore, you would take this piece,
and produce it as yours; I will pretend not to have had time, and so
produce nothing. We shall then see what he will say to it." It was
agreed, and I immediately transcrib'd it, that it might appear in my
own hand.

We met; Watson's performance was read; there were some beauties in it,
but many defects. Osborne's was read; it was much better; Ralph did it
justice; remarked some faults, but applauded the beauties. He himself
had nothing to produce. I was backward; seemed desirous of being
excused; had not had sufficient time to correct, etc.; but no excuse
could be admitted; produce I must. It was read and repeated; Watson
and Osborne gave up the contest, and join'd in applauding it. Ralph
only made some criticisms, and propos'd some amendments; but I
defended my text. Osborne was against Ralph, and told him he was no
better a critic than poet, so he dropt the argument. As they two went
home together, Osborne expressed himself still more strongly in favor
of what he thought my production; having restrain'd himself before, as
he said, lest I should think it flattery. "But who would have
imagin'd," said he, "that Franklin had been capable of such a
performance; such painting, such force, such fire! He has even
improv'd the original. In his common conversation he seems to have no
choice of words; he hesitates and blunders; and yet, good God! how he
writes!" When we next met, Ralph discovered the trick we had plaid
him, and Osborne was a little laughed at.

This transaction fixed Ralph in his resolution of becoming a poet. I
did all I could to dissuade him from it, but he continued scribbling
verses till _Pope_ cured him.[35] He became, however, a pretty good
prose writer. More of him hereafter. But, as I may not have occasion
again to mention the other two, I shall just remark here, that Watson
died in my arms a few years after, much lamented, being the best of
our set. Osborne went to the West Indies, where he became an eminent
lawyer and made money, but died young. He and I had made a serious
agreement, that the one who happen'd first to die should, if possible,
make a friendly visit to the other, and acquaint him how he found
things in that separate state. But he never fulfill'd his promise.

[35] "In one of the later editions of the _Dunciad_ occur
the following lines:

'Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls,
And makes night hideous--answer him, ye owls.'

To this the poet adds the following note:

'James Ralph, a name inserted after the first editions,
not known till he writ a swearing-piece called _Sawney_,
very abusive of Dr. Swift, Mr. Gay, and myself.'"

VI

FIRST VISIT TO LONDON

The governor, seeming to like my company, had me frequently to his
house, and his setting me up was always mention'd as a fixed thing. I
was to take with me letters recommendatory to a number of his friends,
besides the letter of credit to furnish me with the necessary money
for purchasing the press and types, paper, etc. For these letters I
was appointed to call at different times, when they were to be ready;
but a future time was still named. Thus he went on till the ship,
whose departure too had been several times postponed, was on the point
of sailing. Then, when I call'd to take my leave and receive the
letters, his secretary, Dr. Bard, came out to me and said the governor
was extremely busy in writing, but would be down at Newcastle, before
the ship, and there the letters would be delivered to me.

Ralph, though married, and having one child, had determined to
accompany me in this voyage. It was thought he intended to establish a
correspondence, and obtain goods to sell on commission; but I found
afterwards, that, thro' some discontent with his wife's relations, he
purposed to leave her on their hands, and never return again. Having
taken leave of my friends, and interchang'd some promises with Miss
Read, I left Philadelphia in the ship, which anchor'd at Newcastle.
The governor was there; but when I went to his lodging, the secretary
came to me from him with the civillest message in the world, that he
could not then see me, being engaged in business of the utmost
importance, but should send the letters to me on board, wished me
heartily a good voyage and a speedy return, etc. I returned on board a
little puzzled, but still not doubting.

Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a famous lawyer of Philadelphia, had taken
passage in the same ship for himself and son, and with Mr. Denham, a
Quaker merchant, and Messrs. Onion and Russel, masters of an iron work
in Maryland, had engaged the great cabin; so that Ralph and I were
forced to take up with a berth in the steerage, and none on board
knowing us, were considered as ordinary persons. But Mr. Hamilton and
his son (it was James, since governor) return'd from Newcastle to
Philadelphia, the father being recall'd by a great fee to plead for a
seized ship; and, just before we sail'd, Colonel French coming on
board, and showing me great respect, I was more taken notice of, and,
with my friend Ralph, invited by the other gentlemen to come into the
cabin, there being now room. Accordingly, we remov'd thither.

Understanding that Colonel French had brought on board the governor's
despatches, I ask'd the captain for those letters that were to be
under my care. He said all were put into the bag together and he could
not then come at them; but, before we landed in England, I should have
an opportunity of picking them out; so I was satisfied for the
present, and we proceeded on our voyage. We had a sociable company in
the cabin, and lived uncommonly well, having the addition of all Mr.
Hamilton's stores, who had laid in plentifully. In this passage Mr.
Denham contracted a friendship for me that continued during his life.
The voyage was otherwise not a pleasant one, as we had a great deal of
bad weather.

When we came into the Channel, the captain kept his word with me, and
gave me an opportunity of examining the bag for the governor's
letters. I found none upon which my name was put as under my care. I
picked out six or seven, that, by the handwriting, I thought might be
the promised letters, especially as one of them was directed to
Basket, the king's printer, and another to some stationer. We arriv'd
in London the 24th of December, 1724. I waited upon the stationer, who
came first in my way, delivering the letter as from Governor Keith. "I
don't know such a person," says he; but, opening the letter, "O! this
is from Riddlesden. I have lately found him to be a compleat rascal,
and I will have nothing to do with him, nor receive any letters from
him." So, putting the letter into my hand, he turn'd on his heel and
left me to serve some customer. I was surprized to find these were not
the governor's letters; and, after recollecting and comparing
circumstances, I began to doubt his sincerity. I found my friend
Denham, and opened the whole affair to him. He let me into Keith's
character; told me there was not the least probability that he had
written any letters for me; that no one, who knew him, had the
smallest dependence on him; and he laught at the notion of the
governor's giving me a letter of credit, having, as he said, no credit
to give. On my expressing some concern about what I should do, he
advised me to endeavour getting some employment in the way of my
business. "Among the printers here," said he, "you will improve
yourself, and when you return to America, you will set up to greater
advantage."

[Illustration: "So, putting the letter into my hand"]

We both of us happen'd to know, as well as the stationer, that
Riddlesden, the attorney, was a very knave. He had half ruin'd Miss
Read's father by persuading him to be bound for him. By this letter it
appear'd there was a secret scheme on foot to the prejudice of
Hamilton (suppos'd to be then coming over with us); and that Keith was
concerned in it with Riddlesden. Denham, who was a friend of
Hamilton's, thought he ought to be acquainted with it; so, when he
arriv'd in England, which was soon after, partly from resentment and
ill-will to Keith and Riddlesden, and partly from good-will to him, I
waited on him, and gave him the letter. He thank'd me cordially, the
information being of importance to him; and from that time he became
my friend, greatly to my advantage afterwards on many occasions.

But what shall we think of a governor's playing such pitiful tricks,
and imposing so grossly on a poor ignorant boy! It was a habit he had
acquired. He wish'd to please everybody; and, having little to give,
he gave expectations. He was otherwise an ingenious, sensible man, a
pretty good writer, and a good governor for the people, tho' not for
his constituents, the proprietaries, whose instructions he sometimes
disregarded. Several of our best laws were of his planning and passed
during his administration.

Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took lodgings together in
Little Britain[36] at three shillings and sixpence a week--as much as
we could then afford. He found some relations, but they were poor, and
unable to assist him. He now let me know his intentions of remaining
in London, and that he never meant to return to Philadelphia. He had
brought no money with him, the whole he could muster having been
expended in paying his passage. I had fifteen pistoles;[37] so he
borrowed occasionally of me to subsist, while he was looking out for
business. He first endeavoured to get into the play-house, believing
himself qualify'd for an actor; but Wilkes,[38] to whom he apply'd,
advis'd him candidly not to think of that employment, as it was
impossible he should succeed in it. Then he propos'd to Roberts, a
publisher in Paternoster Row,[39] to write for him a weekly paper like
the Spectator, on certain conditions, which Roberts did not approve.
Then he endeavoured to get employment as a hackney writer, to copy for
the stationers and lawyers about the Temple,[40] but could find no
vacancy.

[36] One of the oldest parts of London, north of St.
Paul's Cathedral, called "Little Britain" because the
Dukes of Brittany used to live there. See the essay
entitled "Little Britain" in Washington Irving's _Sketch
Book_.

[37] A gold coin worth about four dollars in our money.

[38] A popular comedian, manager of Drury Lane Theater.

[39] Street north of St. Paul's, occupied by publishing
houses.

[40] Law schools and lawyers' residences situated
southwest of St. Paul's, between Fleet Street and the
Thames.

I immediately got into work at Palmer's, then a famous printing-house
in Bartholomew Close, and here I continu'd near a year. I was pretty
diligent, but spent with Ralph a good deal of my earnings in going to
plays and other places of amusement. We had together consumed all my
pistoles, and now just rubbed on from hand to mouth. He seem'd quite
to forget his wife and child, and I, by degrees, my engagements with
Miss Read, to whom I never wrote more than one letter, and that was to
let her know I was not likely soon to return. This was another of the
great errata of my life, which I should wish to correct if I were to
live it over again. In fact, by our expenses, I was constantly kept
unable to pay my passage.

At Palmer's I was employed in composing for the second edition of
Wollaston's "Religion of Nature." Some of his reasonings not appearing
to me well founded, I wrote a little metaphysical piece in which I
made remarks on them. It was entitled "A Dissertation on Liberty and
Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I inscribed it to my friend Ralph; I
printed a small number. It occasion'd my being more consider'd by Mr.
Palmer as a young man of some ingenuity, tho' he seriously
expostulated with me upon the principles of my pamphlet, which to him
appear'd abominable. My printing this pamphlet was another erratum.

While I lodg'd in Little Britain, I made an acquaintance with one
Wilcox, a bookseller, whose shop was at the next door. He had an
immense collection of second-hand books. Circulating libraries were
not then in use; but we agreed that, on certain reasonable terms,
which I have now forgotten, I might take, read, and return any of his
books. This I esteem'd a great advantage, and I made as much use of it
as I could.

My pamphlet by some means falling into the hands of one Lyons, a
surgeon, author of a book entitled "The Infallibility of Human
Judgment," it occasioned an acquaintance between us. He took great
notice of me, called on me often to converse on those subjects,
carried me to the Horns, a pale alehouse in----Lane, Cheapside,
and introduced me to Dr. Mandeville, author of the "Fable of the
Bees," who had a club there, of which he was the soul, being a most
facetious, entertaining companion. Lyons, too, introduced me to Dr.
Pemberton, at Batson's Coffee-house, who promis'd to give me an
opportunity, sometime or other, of seeing Sir Isaac Newton, of which I
was extreamly desirous; but this never happened.

I had brought over a few curiosities, among which the principal was a
purse made of the asbestos, which purifies by fire. Sir Hans Sloane
heard of it, came to see me, and invited me to his house in Bloomsbury
Square, where he show'd me all his curiosities, and persuaded me to
let him add that to the number, for which he paid me handsomely.

In our house there lodg'd a young woman, a milliner, who, I think, had
a shop in the Cloisters. She had been genteelly bred, was sensible and
lively, and of most pleasing conversation. Ralph read plays to her in
the evenings, they grew intimate, she took another lodging, and he
followed her. They liv'd together some time; but, he being still out
of business, and her income not sufficient to maintain them with her
child, he took a resolution of going from London, to try for a country
school, which he thought himself well qualified to undertake, as he
wrote an excellent hand, and was a master of arithmetic and accounts.
This, however, he deemed a business below him, and confident of future
better fortune, when he should be unwilling to have it known that he
once was so meanly employed, he changed his name, and did me the
honour to assume mine; for I soon after had a letter from him,
acquainting me that he was settled in a small village (in Berkshire, I
think it was, where he taught reading and writing to ten or a dozen
boys, at sixpence each per week), recommending Mrs. T---- to my care,
and desiring me to write to him, directing for Mr. Franklin,
schoolmaster, at such a place.

He continued to write frequently, sending me large specimens of an
epic poem which he was then composing, and desiring my remarks and
corrections. These I gave him from time to time, but endeavour'd
rather to discourage his proceeding. One of Young's Satires[41] was
then just published. I copy'd and sent him a great part of it, which
set in a strong light the folly of pursuing the Muses with any hope of
advancement by them. All was in vain; sheets of the poem continued to
come by every post. In the meantime, Mrs. T----, having on his account
lost her friends and business, was often in distresses, and us'd to
send for me and borrow what I could spare to help her out of them. I
grew fond of her company, and, being at that time under no religious
restraint, and presuming upon my importance to her, I attempted
familiarities (another erratum) which she repuls'd with a proper
resentment, and acquainted him with my behaviour. This made a breach
between us; and, when he returned again to London, he let me know he
thought I had cancell'd all the obligations he had been under to me.
So I found I was never to expect his repaying me what I lent to him or
advanc'd for him. This, however, was not then of much consequence, as
he was totally unable; and in the loss of his friendship I found
myself relieved from a burthen. I now began to think of getting a
little money beforehand, and, expecting better work, I left Palmer's
to work at Watts's, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, a still greater
printing-house.[42] Here I continued all the rest of my stay in London.

[41] Edward Young (1681-1765), an English poet. See his
satires, Vol. III, Epist. ii, page 70.

[42] The printing press at which Franklin worked is
preserved in the Patent Office at Washington.

At my first admission into this printing-house I took to working at
press, imagining I felt a want of the bodily exercise I had been us'd
to in America, where presswork is mix'd with composing. I drank only
water; the other workmen, near fifty in number, were great guzzlers of
beer. On occasion, I carried up and down stairs a large form of types
in each hand, when others carried but one in both hands. They wondered
to see, from this and several instances, that the _Water-American_, as
they called me, was _stronger_ than themselves, who drank _strong_
beer! We had an alehouse boy who attended always in the house to
supply the workmen. My companion at the press drank every day a pint
before breakfast, a pint at breakfast with his bread and cheese, a
pint between breakfast and dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint in the
afternoon about six o'clock, and another when he had done his day's
work. I thought it a detestable custom; but it was necessary, he
suppos'd, to drink _strong_ beer, that he might be _strong_ to labour.
I endeavoured to convince him that the bodily strength afforded by
beer could only be in proportion to the grain or flour of the barley
dissolved in the water of which it was made; that there was more flour
in a pennyworth of bread; and therefore, if he would eat that with a
pint of water, it would give him more strength than a quart of beer.
He drank on, however, and had four or five shillings to pay out of his
wages every Saturday night for that muddling liquor; an expense I was
free from. And thus these poor devils keep themselves always under.

[Illustration: "I took to working at press"]

Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have me in the composing-room,[43]
I left the pressmen; a new bien venu or sum for drink, being five
shillings, was demanded of me by the compositors. I thought it an
imposition, as I had paid below; the master thought so too, and forbade
my paying it. I stood out two or three weeks, was accordingly considered
as an excommunicate, and had so many little pieces of private mischief
done me, by mixing my sorts, transposing my pages, breaking my matter,
etc., etc., if I were ever so little out of the room, and all ascribed
to the chappel ghost, which they said ever haunted those not regularly
admitted, that, notwithstanding the master's protection, I found myself
oblig'd to comply and pay the money, convinc'd of the folly of being on
ill terms with those one is to live with continually.

[43] Franklin now left the work of operating the printing
presses, which was largely a matter of manual labor, and
began setting type, which required more skill and
intelligence.

I was now on a fair footing with them, and soon acquir'd considerable
influence. I propos'd some reasonable alterations in their chappel
laws,[44] and carried them against all opposition. From my example, a
great part of them left their muddling breakfast of beer, and bread,
and cheese, finding they could with me be supply'd from a neighbouring
house with a large porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled with
pepper, crumb'd with bread, and a bit of butter in it, for the price
of a pint of beer, viz., three half-pence. This was a more comfortable
as well as cheaper breakfast, and keep their heads clearer. Those who
continued sotting with beer all day, were often, by not paying, out of
credit at the alehouse, and us'd to make interest with me to get beer;
their _light_, as they phrased it, _being out_. I watch'd the
pay-table on Saturday night, and collected what I stood engag'd for
them, having to pay sometimes near thirty shillings a week on their
accounts. This, and my being esteem'd a pretty good _riggite_, that
is, a jocular verbal satirist, supported my consequence in the
society. My constant attendance (I never making a St. Monday)[45]
recommended me to the master; and my uncommon quickness at composing
occasioned my being put upon all work of dispatch, which was generally
better paid. So I went on now very agreeably.

[44] A printing house is called a chapel because Caxton,
the first English printer, did his printing in a chapel
connected with Westminster Abbey.

[45] A holiday taken to prolong the dissipation of
Saturday's wages.

My lodging in Little Britain being too remote, I found another in
Duke-street, opposite to the Romish Chapel. It was two pair of stairs
backwards, at an Italian warehouse. A widow lady kept the house; she
had a daughter, and a maid servant, and a journeyman who attended the
warehouse, but lodg'd abroad. After sending to inquire my character at
the house where I last lodg'd she agreed to take me in at the same
rate, 3s. 6d. per week; cheaper, as she said, from the protection she
expected in having a man lodge in the house. She was a widow, an
elderly woman; had been bred a Protestant, being a clergyman's
daughter, but was converted to the Catholic religion by her husband,
whose memory she much revered; had lived much among people of
distinction, and knew a thousand anecdotes of them as far back as the
times of Charles the Second. She was lame in her knees with the gout,
and, therefore, seldom stirred out of her room, so sometimes wanted
company; and hers was so highly amusing to me, that I was sure to
spend an evening with her whenever she desired it. Our supper was
only half an anchovy each, on a very little strip of bread and butter,
and half a pint of ale between us; but the entertainment was in her
conversation. My always keeping good hours, and giving little trouble
in the family, made her unwilling to part with me, so that, when I
talk'd of a lodging I had heard of, nearer my business, for two
shillings a week, which, intent as I now was on saving money, made
some difference, she bid me not think of it, for she would abate me
two shillings a week for the future; so I remained with her at one
shilling and sixpence as long as I staid in London.

In a garret of her house there lived a maiden lady of seventy, in the
most retired manner, of whom my landlady gave me this account: that
she was a Roman Catholic, had been sent abroad when young, and lodg'd
in a nunnery with an intent of becoming a nun; but, the country not
agreeing with her, she returned to England, where, there being no
nunnery, she had vow'd to lead the life of a nun, as near as might be
done in those circumstances. Accordingly, she had given all her estate
to charitable uses, reserving only twelve pounds a year to live on,
and out of this sum she still gave a great deal in charity, living
herself on water-gruel only, and using no fire but to boil it. She had
lived many years in that garret, being permitted to remain there
gratis by successive Catholic tenants of the house below, as they
deemed it a blessing to have her there. A priest visited her to
confess her every day. "I have ask'd her," says my landlady, "how she,
as she liv'd, could possibly find so much employment for a confessor?"
"Oh," said she, "it is impossible to avoid _vain thoughts_." I was
permitted once to visit her. She was cheerful and polite, and
convers'd pleasantly. The room was clean, but had no other furniture
than a matras, a table with a crucifix and book, a stool which she
gave me to sit on, and a picture over the chimney of Saint Veronica
displaying her handkerchief, with the miraculous figure of Christ's
bleeding face on it,[46] which she explained to me with great
seriousness. She look'd pale, but was never sick; and I give it as
another instance on how small an income, life and health may be
supported.

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