Keimer and I liv'd on a pretty good familiar footing, and agreed tolerably well, for he suspected nothing of my setting up. He retained a great deal of his old enthusiasms and lov'd argumentation. We therefore had many disputations. I used to work him so with my Socratic method, and had trepann'd him so often by questions apparently so distant from any point we had in hand, and yet by degrees led to the point, and brought him into difficulties and contradictions, that at last he grew ridiculously cautious, and would hardly answer me the most common question, without asking first, "What do you intend to infer from that?" However, it gave him so high an opinion of my abilities in the confuting way, that he seriously proposed my being his colleague in a project he had of setting up a new sect. He was to preach the doctrines, and I was to confound all opponents. When he came to explain with me upon the doctrines, I found several conundrums which I objected to, unless I might have my way a little too, and introduce some of mine.
Keimer and I lived on fairly familiar terms and got along tolerably well, for he suspected nothing of my plan to set up for myself. He kept a great deal of his old religious enthusiasm and loved arguing, so we had many disputes. I used my Socratic method on him a great deal. I trapped him again and again with questions that seemed far from the point we were discussing, yet led to it step by step and brought him into difficulties and contradictions. At last he grew ridiculously cautious. He would hardly answer even the most common question without first asking, "What do you intend to infer from that?" However, this gave him such a high opinion of my skill at refuting arguments that he seriously proposed I become his colleague in a plan he had to set up a new sect. He was to preach the doctrines, and I was to confound all opponents. When he came to go over the doctrines with me, I found several puzzling points that I objected to, unless I could have my way a little too and bring in some of my own.
Keimer wore his beard at full length, because somewhere in the Mosaic law it is said, "Thou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard." He likewise kept the Seventh day, Sabbath; and these two points were essentials with him. I dislik'd both; but agreed to admit them upon condition of his adopting the doctrine of using no animal food. "I doubt," said he, "my constitution will not bear that." I assur'd him it would, and that he would be the better for it. He was usually a great glutton, and I promised myself some diversion in half starving him. He agreed to try the practice, if I would keep him company. I did so, and we held it for three months. We had our victuals dress'd, and brought to us regularly by a woman in the neighborhood, who had from me a list of forty dishes, to be prepar'd for us at different times, in all which there was neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, and the whim suited me the better at this time from the cheapness of it, not costing us above eighteenpence sterling each per week. I have since kept several Lents most strictly, leaving the common diet for that, and that for the common, abruptly, without the least inconvenience, so that I think there is little in the advice of making those changes by easy gradations. I went on pleasantly, but poor Keimer suffered grievously, tired of the project, long'd for the flesh-pots of Egypt, and order'd a roast pig. He invited me and two women friends to dine with him; but, it being brought too soon upon table, he could not resist the temptation, and ate the whole before we came.
Keimer wore his beard long. He said it was because somewhere in the Mosaic law it is said, "Thou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard." He also observed the Seventh day, the Sabbath. These two things were essential to him. I disliked both. But I agreed to tolerate them on condition that he would stop eating animal food. "I doubt," he said, "my constitution will bear that." I assured him it would. I told him he would be better for it. He was usually a great glutton. I thought it would be amusing to half-starve him. He agreed to try it if I would join him. I did, and we kept it for three months. We had our food prepared and brought to us regularly by a neighbor woman. I gave her a list of forty dishes to prepare at different times. None of the dishes contained fish, flesh, or fowl. The plan suited me because it was cheap. It cost us no more than eighteenpence sterling each per week. Since then I have kept several Lents very strictly. I switched diets abruptly without any trouble. I left the ordinary diet for Lent and returned to ordinary food afterwards without any inconvenience. This makes me think there is little value in the usual advice to make such changes gradually. I went on pleasantly. But poor Keimer suffered greatly. He grew tired of the experiment and longed for the flesh-pots of Egypt. He ordered a roast pig. He invited me and two women friends to dine with him. But the pig was brought to the table too soon, and he could not resist the temptation. He ate the whole pig before we arrived.
I had made some courtship during this time to Miss Read. I had a great respect and affection for her, and had some reason to believe she had the same for me; but, as I was about to take a long voyage, and we were both very young, only a little above eighteen, it was thought most prudent by her mother to prevent our going too far at present, as a marriage, if it was to take place, would be more convenient after my return, when I should be, as I expected, set up in my business. Perhaps, too, she thought my expectations not so well founded as I imagined them to be.
I had been courting Miss Read during this time. I respected and cared for her deeply. I had reason to think she felt the same way about me. But I was about to take a long voyage and we were both very young, only a little over eighteen. Her mother thought it wiser to prevent our relationship from going too far for now. A marriage, if it happened, would be more convenient after my return. I expected to have my business established by then. Perhaps her mother also thought my expectations were not as secure as I believed.
My chief acquaintances at this time were Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph, all lovers of reading. The two first were clerks to an eminent scrivener or conveyancer in the town, Charles Brockden; the other was clerk to a merchant. Watson was a pious, sensible young man, of great integrity; the others rather more lax in their principles of religion, particularly Ralph, who, as well as Collins, had been unsettled by me, for which they both made me suffer. Osborne was sensible, candid, frank; sincere and affectionate to his friends; but, in literary matters, too fond of criticizing. Ralph was ingenious, genteel in his manners, and extremely eloquent; I think I never knew a prettier talker. Both of them were great admirers of poetry, and began to try their hands in little pieces. Many pleasant walks we four had together on Sundays into the woods, near Schuylkill, where we read to one another, and conferr'd on what we read.
My main acquaintances at that time were Charles Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph. They all loved reading. The first two were clerks to an eminent scrivener or conveyancer in town, Charles Brockden. The other was a clerk to a merchant. Watson was a pious, sensible young man of great integrity. The others were less strict in their religious principles. Ralph was especially lax. He, as well as Collins, had been unsettled by me, and they both made me suffer for it. Osborne was sensible, candid, and frank. He was sincere and affectionate to his friends. In literary matters he was too fond of criticizing. Ralph was ingenious, genteel in his manners, and extremely eloquent. I think I never knew a finer talker. Both of them admired poetry greatly and began trying their hands at short pieces. We four often took pleasant Sunday walks into the woods near the Schuylkill. There we read to one another and discussed what we read.
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.
Ralph was inclined to study poetry. He did not doubt he could become eminent in it and make his fortune by it. He argued that the best poets, when they first began to write, had made as many mistakes as he did. Osborne discouraged him and told him he had no talent for poetry. He advised Ralph to focus on the trade he had been trained in. In commerce, even without capital, he could get work as a merchant's agent by being diligent and punctual. In time he could acquire enough to trade on his own. I approved of enjoying poetry now and then to improve one's language, but nothing beyond that.
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.
On this it was proposed that we should each, at our next meeting, bring a piece we had written. This would help us improve by our mutual observations, criticisms, and corrections. Since language and expression were what we had in view, we set aside invention. We agreed the task should be a version of the eighteenth Psalm, which describes the descent of a Deity. When the time of our meeting drew near, Ralph called on me first and told me his piece was ready. I said I had been busy and, having little inclination, had done nothing. He then showed me his piece for my opinion, and I approved it greatly, as it seemed to me to have much merit. "Now," he said, "Osborne will never admit the least merit in anything of mine. He makes a thousand criticisms out of mere envy. He is not so jealous of you. I wish, therefore, you would take this piece and present 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 transcribed it so it might appear in my own handwriting.
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.
We met, and Watson's piece was read. It had some beauties but many defects. Osborne's was read, and it was much better. Ralph did it justice. He noted some faults but praised the beauties. He himself had nothing to present. I held back, seemed to want to be excused, and said I had not had enough time to correct it, and so on. But no excuse would be accepted, and I had to produce it. It was read and read again. Watson and Osborne gave up the contest and joined in applauding it. Only Ralph made some criticisms and proposed some changes, but I defended my text. Osborne opposed Ralph and told him he was no better a critic than he was a poet, so Ralph dropped the argument. As the two of them went home together, Osborne spoke still more strongly in favor of what he thought was my work. He said he had held back before so that I would not think it flattery. "But who would have imagined," he said, "that Franklin was capable of such a performance? Such painting, such force, such fire! He has even improved on the original. In his ordinary 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 revealed the trick we had played on him, and Osborne was laughed at a little.
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. 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.
This event fixed Ralph's decision to become a poet. I did everything I could to dissuade him. He kept scribbling verses until Pope cured him. However, he became a fairly good prose writer. More about him later. I may not have reason to mention the other two again. I will note here that Watson died in my arms a few years later. He was much lamented, and he was the best of our group. Osborne went to the West Indies. There he became a prominent lawyer and made money. But he died young. He and I had made a serious agreement. We agreed that whoever died first should, if possible, make a friendly visit to the other. He would then tell the survivor how he found things in that separate state. But he never fulfilled his promise.
"The following lines appear in a later edition of the Dunciad:"