First Trip to London

Chapter 6

First Trip to London

20 min

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.

The governor, who seemed to enjoy my company, often invited me to his house. He always spoke as if helping me set up my business were settled. He told me to take letters of recommendation to several of his friends. He also promised a letter of credit. That would provide the money I needed to buy a press, type, paper, and so on. He appointed times for me to call and pick up those letters when they would be ready. But each time he named a later date. This went on until the ship, whose sailing had been delayed several times, was about to leave. When I called to take my leave and get the letters, his secretary, Dr. Bard, came out to meet me. He said the governor was very busy writing. He told me the governor would come down to Newcastle before the ship sailed. 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.

Ralph, though married and with one child, had decided to go with me on this voyage. People thought he planned to set up a business and get goods to sell on commission. But later I learned that, because he was unhappy with his wife's relations, he meant to leave her with them and never return. After saying goodbye to my friends and exchanging promises with Miss Read, I left Philadelphia on a ship. It anchored at Newcastle. The governor was there. When I went to his lodging, the secretary met me with the most civil message. He said the governor could not see me then because he was engaged in business of the utmost importance. He would send the letters to me on board and wished me a hearty good voyage and a speedy return, and so on. 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.

Mr. Andrew Hamilton, a well-known Philadelphia lawyer, had booked passage on the same ship for himself and his son. He and Mr. Denham, a Quaker merchant, had reserved the main cabin with Mr. Onion and Mr. Russel. They ran an ironworks in Maryland. That forced Ralph and me to take berths in the steerage. No one aboard knew us, so we were treated as ordinary passengers. But Mr. Hamilton and his son (his son James, who later became governor) returned from Newcastle to Philadelphia. The father had been called back by a large fee to defend a seized ship. Just before we sailed, Colonel French came aboard and showed me great respect. I received more attention. The other gentlemen then invited Ralph and me into the cabin because there was now room. We moved there.

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.

Learning that Colonel French had brought the governor's dispatches on board, I asked the captain for the letters that were to be under my care. He said they had all been put together in the bag and he could not reach them at that moment. He added that before we landed in England I would have an opportunity to pick them out. I was satisfied for the time and we continued our voyage. We had sociable company in the cabin and lived very well. We also had the benefit of Mr. Hamilton's stores, which he had stocked plentifully. During this passage Mr. Denham became a friend, and that friendship lasted for the rest of his life. Otherwise the voyage was not pleasant, because 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 surprised 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."

When we came into the Channel, the captain kept his word and gave me a chance to search the bag for the governor's letters. I found none with my name on it marking it as under my care. I picked out six or seven that, from the handwriting, I thought might be the promised letters, especially since one of them was addressed to Basket, the king's printer, and another to a stationer. We arrived in London on December 24, 1724. I called first on the stationer, since he was nearest on my way, and delivered the letter as being from Governor Keith. "I don't know such a person," he said. But opening the letter, he said, "Oh! This is from Riddlesden. I have lately found him to be a complete rascal, and I will have nothing to do with him, nor receive any letters from him." So he put the letter back into my hand, turned on his heel, and left me to serve some customer. I was surprised to find that these were not the governor's letters. After recalling and comparing the circumstances, I began to doubt the governor's sincerity. I found my friend Denham and told him the whole affair. He let me know what kind of man Keith was. He told me there was not the least likelihood that Keith had written any letters for me, and that no one who knew him relied on him in the slightest. He laughed at the idea of the governor giving me a letter of credit, since, as he said, Keith had no credit to give. When I expressed some concern about what I should do, he advised me to try to find work in my own trade. "Among the printers here," he said, "you will improve yourself, and when you return to America, you will set up to greater advantage."

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.

Both the stationer and we knew that Riddlesden, the attorney, was a very dishonest man. He had nearly ruined Miss Read's father by persuading him to become his guarantor. The letter showed there was a secret scheme being planned to harm Hamilton, who was then supposed to be coming over with us. It also showed that Keith was involved with Riddlesden. Denham, a friend of Hamilton's, thought Hamilton should be told. So when Hamilton arrived in England soon after, I called on him. I did this partly out of resentment toward Keith and Riddlesden, and partly out of goodwill to Hamilton, and I gave him the letter. He thanked me warmly because the information mattered to him. From that time he became my friend, which helped me greatly on many later 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.

What should we think of a governor who played such pitiful tricks? He took gross advantage of a poor, ignorant boy. It was a habit he had developed. He wanted to please everyone. He had little to give, so he offered promises. He was otherwise an ingenious, sensible man. He was a pretty good writer and a good governor for the people. He was not a good governor for his constituents, the proprietaries. He sometimes ignored their instructions. Several of our best laws were his plans. They were passed during his administration.

Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We took lodgings together in Little Britain 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; 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, 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, 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, but could find no vacancy.

Ralph and I were inseparable companions. We rented lodgings together in Little Britain for three shillings and sixpence a week. That was all we could afford. He found some relations, but they were poor and could not help him. He told me he planned to stay in London and never intended to return to Philadelphia. He had brought no money. He had spent everything on his passage. I had fifteen pistoles. He borrowed from me occasionally to live while he looked for work. He first tried to get into the playhouse because he believed himself qualified to be an actor. But Wilkes, whom he had approached, told him frankly not to think of that job. He said it was impossible for him to succeed. Then he proposed to Roberts, a publisher in Paternoster Row. He offered to write a weekly paper like the Spectator under certain conditions. Roberts did not approve. He then tried to get work as a hackney writer, copying for the stationers and lawyers around the Temple. He found no vacancies.

It is one of the oldest parts of London, north of St. Paul's Cathedral. It is called "Little Britain" because the Dukes of Brittany once lived there. See the essay entitled "Little Britain" in Washington Irving's Sketch Book.

A gold coin worth about four dollars in today's money.

A popular comedian who managed Drury Lane Theater.

A street north of St. Paul's that was occupied by publishing houses.

Law schools and lawyers' residences located 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.

I immediately found work at Palmer's, then a famous printing house in Bartholomew Close, and I stayed there nearly a year. I was fairly diligent, but I spent a good deal of my earnings with Ralph on plays and other places of amusement. Together we had used up all my pistoles, and now we just scraped along from hand to mouth. He seemed to forget his wife and child completely. And I gradually forgot my commitments to Miss Read. I never wrote her more than one letter, and that was to tell her I was not likely to return soon. This was another of the great errata of my life, which I would wish to correct if I were to live it over again. In fact, our expenses kept me constantly 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.

At Palmer's, I worked setting type for the second edition of Wollaston's "Religion of Nature." Some of Wollaston's arguments did not seem well founded to me. I wrote a short metaphysical piece commenting on them. It was entitled "A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." I dedicated it to my friend Ralph. I printed a small number of copies. This led Mr. Palmer to think more highly of me as a young man of some ingenuity. Still, he strongly objected to the pamphlet's principles. To him, they appeared abominable. Printing this pamphlet was another mistake.

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.

While I was lodging in Little Britain, I got to know a bookseller named Wilcox. His shop was next door. He had an immense collection of second-hand books. Circulating libraries did not exist then. We agreed on reasonable terms, which I now forget. Those terms let me borrow, read, and return any of his books. I considered this a great advantage. I used it as much 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.

My pamphlet somehow came into the hands of a surgeon named Lyons. He had written a book called "The Infallibility of Human Judgment." This led us to become acquainted. He paid a great deal of attention to me and often called to talk about those subjects. He took me to the Horns, a pale alehouse in a lane in Cheapside. There he introduced me to Dr. Mandeville, author of the "Fable of the Bees." Dr. Mandeville kept a club there and was its soul. He was a very witty and entertaining companion. Lyons also introduced me to Dr. Pemberton at Batson's Coffee-house. Pemberton promised, at some time, to give me an opportunity to see Sir Isaac Newton. I was very eager to meet him, but it 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.

I had brought a few curiosities with me. The main one was a purse made of asbestos, which can be purified by fire. Sir Hans Sloane heard of it and came to see me. He invited me to his house in Bloomsbury Square. There he showed me all his curiosities. He persuaded me to let him add my purse to his collection. He paid me handsomely for it.

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.

A young woman lived in our house. She was a milliner, and I think she had a shop in the Cloisters. She had been well bred. She was sensible, lively, and a very pleasant conversationalist. Ralph read plays to her in the evenings. They became close. She took another lodging, and he followed her. They lived together for some time. He was still out of work, and her income could not support them and her child. He decided to leave London to try for a country school. He thought himself well qualified. He wrote an excellent hand and was skilled in arithmetic and accounts. However, he considered that work beneath him. Confident of better fortune yet to come, and not wanting people to know he had once done such a lowly job, he changed his name. He did me the honor of taking mine. Soon after, I received a letter from him. He told me he had settled in a small village, I think in Berkshire. There he taught reading and writing to ten or a dozen boys at sixpence a week each. He recommended Mrs. T—— to my care, and he asked me to write to him, directed to Mr. Franklin, schoolmaster, at that 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 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. Here I continued all the rest of my stay in London.

He kept writing often. He sent me long parts of an epic poem he was composing and asked for my remarks and corrections. I gave them to him from time to time, but I tried to discourage him from continuing. At that time one of Young's Satires had just been published. I copied much of it and sent it to him. It showed plainly the folly of chasing the Muses in hopes of advancement. It did not help. Sheets of his poem kept arriving by post. Meanwhile Mrs. T—— had lost her friends and business because of him. She was often in distress. She would send for me and borrow what I could spare to help her. I grew fond of her company. At that time I felt no religious restraint. I took my influence with her for granted and tried to be familiar with her (another erratum). She rejected me with proper indignation and told him about my behavior. This caused a breach between us. When he returned to London he told me he felt I had canceled all the obligations he owed me. So I learned I should not expect him to repay what I had lent or advanced for him. This, however, was not very important then because he was completely unable to pay. Losing his friendship felt like a relief. I began to think about saving a little money in advance. Expecting better work, I left Palmer's and took a job at Watts's, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, at a larger printing-house. I stayed there for the rest of my time in London.

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

The printing press Franklin worked on 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.

When I first joined this printing house, I started working at the press. I thought I missed the physical exercise I had been used to in America. There, presswork is mixed with composing. I drank only water. The other workers, nearly fifty in number, were heavy beer drinkers. Sometimes I carried a large form of type up and down the stairs in each hand. Others carried only one form with both hands. They were surprised to see, from this and other examples, that the Water-American, as they called me, was stronger than they were, though they drank strong beer. An alehouse boy was always in the shop to supply the workmen. My companion at the press drank a pint before breakfast. He drank a pint with his bread and cheese at breakfast. He had a pint between breakfast and dinner. He drank a pint at dinner. He drank a pint in the afternoon about six o'clock. He drank another when he had finished his day's work. I thought it a detestable custom. He supposed it was necessary to drink strong beer so he might be strong for labor. I tried to convince him otherwise. I said the bodily strength from beer comes only from the grain or flour of the barley dissolved in its water. I said a pennyworth of bread contained more of that flour. So if he ate that bread with a pint of water, it would give him more strength than a quart of beer. He drank on, however. He had four or five shillings to pay out of his wages every Saturday night for that muddling liquor. That was an expense I did not have. And so these poor devils keep themselves always under.

Watts, after some weeks, desiring to have me in the composing-room, 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.

After some weeks, Watts asked me to join the composing-room. I left the pressmen. The compositors demanded a new bien venu, or contribution for drink. It was five shillings. I thought this a cheat because I had already paid downstairs. The master agreed and forbade me to pay it. I refused for two or three weeks. They then treated me like an outcast. They played many little private tricks on me. They mixed my type, transposed my pages, and broke up my work whenever I was even slightly out of the room. They blamed it all on the chappel ghost, which they said haunted anyone not regularly admitted. Despite the master's protection, I found myself obliged to give in and pay the money. I was convinced it was foolish to be on bad terms with those one must live with continually.

Franklin stopped doing the manual labor of operating the printing presses. He began setting type, which required greater skill and judgment.

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, 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) 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.

I was now on an equal footing with them, and I soon gained considerable influence. I proposed some reasonable changes to their chapel laws, and I carried them against all opposition. Following my example, a large part of them gave up their befuddling breakfast of beer, bread, and cheese. They found that, along with me, they could be supplied from a neighboring house with a large porringer of hot water-gruel. It was sprinkled with pepper, with bread crumbled into it and a bit of butter. It cost the price of a pint of beer, namely three half-pence. This breakfast was more comfortable as well as cheaper, and it kept their heads clearer. Those who went on soaking themselves in beer all day often lost their credit at the alehouse by not paying. Then they would appeal to me to get them beer, their light, as they put it, being out. I watched the pay-table on Saturday night and collected what I had pledged for them. Sometimes I had to pay nearly thirty shillings a week on their accounts. This, and my being thought a pretty good riggite, that is, a joking verbal satirist, kept up my importance in the group. My constant attendance (I never took a St. Monday) recommended me to the master. My unusual speed at composing meant I was given all the rush work, which generally paid better. So I now went on very pleasantly.

A printing house is called a "chapel." Caxton, the first English printer, did his printing in a chapel attached to Westminster Abbey.

A holiday taken to prolong the wasteful spending of wages earned on Saturday.

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.

My lodging in Little Britain was too far away, so I found another on Duke Street opposite the Roman Catholic chapel. It was two flights of stairs toward the back, above an Italian warehouse. A widow ran the house. She had a daughter and a maid, and a journeyman worked at the warehouse but lodged elsewhere. After sending to the house where I had last lodged to ask about my character, she agreed to take me at the same rate, 3s. 6d. per week. She said the lower price reflected the protection she expected from having a man in the house. She was an elderly widow. She had been raised Protestant, as a clergyman’s daughter. Her husband had converted her to the Catholic faith, and she greatly revered his memory. She had lived among people of distinction and knew a thousand anecdotes about them, going back to the time of Charles II. Gout had made her knees lame, so she rarely left her room and sometimes wanted company. Her conversation was so amusing to me that I always spent an evening with her when she asked. Our supper was only half an anchovy each on a very thin strip of bread and butter, with half a pint of ale between us. The real entertainment was her conversation. I always kept good hours and caused little trouble for the family. That made her unwilling to part with me. When I mentioned a lodging I had heard of nearer my work for two shillings a week, I was interested because I wanted to save money. She told me not to consider it. She said she would reduce my rent by two shillings a week from then on. So I remained with her, paying one shilling and sixpence a week, for as long as I stayed 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, 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.

In an attic of her house lived a seventy-year-old unmarried woman who kept to herself, my landlady told me. She was a Roman Catholic. She had been sent abroad when young and lodged in a convent intending to become a nun. The foreign country did not agree with her, so she returned to England. There being no convents there, she vowed to lead the life of a nun as nearly as circumstances allowed. Accordingly, she gave all her estate to charity, keeping only twelve pounds a year to live on. From that sum she still gave much away. She lived on water-gruel only and used fire only to boil it. She had lived many years in that attic, permitted to remain there free by successive Catholic tenants of the house below, who thought it a blessing to have her. A priest visited her every day to hear her confession. "I have asked her," my landlady said, "how she, as she lived, could possibly find so much employment for a confessor?" "Oh," she replied, "it is impossible to avoid vain thoughts." I was allowed to visit her once. She was cheerful and polite and conversed pleasantly. The room was clean but had no furniture except a mattress, a table with a crucifix and a book, and a stool which she gave me to sit on. Over the fireplace hung a picture of Saint Veronica showing her handkerchief, with the miraculous figure of Christ's bleeding face on it, which she explained to me very seriously. She looked pale but was never ill, and I give her as another example of how little income will support life and health.

The story says she met Christ on His way to the crucifixion. She offered Him her handkerchief to wipe the blood from His face. After that, the handkerchief always bore the image of Christ's bleeding face.

At Watts's printing-house I contracted an acquaintance with an ingenious young man, one Wygate, who, having wealthy relations, had been better educated than most printers; was a tolerable Latinist, spoke French, and lov'd reading. I taught him and a friend of his to swim at twice going into the river, and they soon became good swimmers. They introduc'd me to some gentlemen from the country, who went to Chelsea by water to see the College and Don Saltero's curiosities. In our return, at the request of the company, whose curiosity Wygate had excited, I stripped and leaped into the river, and swam from near Chelsea to Blackfriar's, performing on the way many feats of activity, both upon and under water, that surpris'd and pleas'd those to whom they were novelties.

At Watts's print shop I became acquainted with an ingenious young man named Wygate. He had wealthy relatives and had received a better education than most printers. He was a reasonably good Latinist, spoke French, and loved reading. I taught him and a friend to swim in just two trips into the river. They soon became good swimmers. They introduced me to some country gentlemen who were going to Chelsea by boat to see the College and Don Saltero's curiosities. On our return the company asked me to show them more, because Wygate had excited their curiosity. So I stripped and jumped into the river. I swam from near Chelsea to Blackfriar's. Along the way I performed many active feats, above and below the water. These surprised and pleased people who had never seen such things.

James Salter, a former servant of Hans Sloane, lived in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. "His house, a barber-shop, was known as 'Don Saltero's Coffee-House.' The curiosities were in glass cases and constituted an amazing and motley collection—a petrified crab from China, a 'lignified hog,' Job's tears, Madagascar lances, William the Conqueror's flaming sword, and Henry the Eighth's coat of mail."—Smyth.

About three miles away.

I had from a child been ever delighted with this exercise, had studied and practis'd all Thevenot's motions and positions, added some of my own, aiming at the graceful and easy as well as the useful. All these I took this occasion of exhibiting to the company, and was much flatter'd by their admiration; and Wygate, who was desirous of becoming a master, grew more and more attach'd to me on that account, as well as from the similarity of our studies. He at length proposed to me traveling all over Europe together, supporting ourselves everywhere by working at our business. I was once inclined to it; but, mentioning it to my good friend Mr. Denham, with whom I often spent an hour when I had leisure, he dissuaded me from it, advising me to think only of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was now about to do.

From childhood I had always enjoyed this exercise. I studied and practiced all Thevenot's movements and positions. I added some of my own, aiming for the graceful and the easy as well as the useful. I took this opportunity to show them to the company, and I was much flattered by their admiration. Wygate, who wanted to become a master, grew more and more attached to me for that reason, and because our studies were similar. At length he proposed that we travel all over Europe together, supporting ourselves everywhere by working at our trade. I was once inclined to it. But when I mentioned the idea to my good friend Mr. Denham, he dissuaded me. I often spent an hour with him when I had leisure. He advised me to think only of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was now about to do.

I must record one trait of this good man's character. He had formerly been in business at Bristol, but failed in debt to a number of people, compounded and went to America. There, by a close application to business as a merchant, he acquired a plentiful fortune in a few years. Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited his old creditors to an entertainment, at which he thank'd them for the easy composition they had favoured him with, and, when they expected nothing but the treat, every man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a banker for the full amount of the unpaid remainder with interest.

I must record one trait of this good man's character. He had formerly been in business in Bristol, but failed and owed money to several people. He reached a settlement with them and went to America. There he worked hard as a merchant. In a few years he acquired a comfortable fortune. When he returned to England on the same ship as me, he invited his old creditors to a dinner. He thanked them for the lenient settlement they had given him. They expected only the meal. When the plates were first cleared, each man found under his plate a bank draft. The drafts covered the full remaining amount with interest.

He now told me he was about to return to Philadelphia, and should carry over a great quantity of goods in order to open a store there. He propos'd to take me over as his clerk, to keep his books, in which he would instruct me, copy his letters, and attend the store. He added, that, as soon as I should be acquainted with mercantile business, he would promote me by sending me with a cargo of flour and bread, etc., to the West Indies, and procure me commissions from others which would be profitable; and, if I manag'd well, would establish me handsomely. The thing pleas'd me; for I was grown tired of London, remembered with pleasure the happy months I had spent in Pennsylvania, and wish'd again to see it; therefore I immediately agreed on the terms of fifty pounds a year, Pennsylvania money; less, indeed, than my present gettings as a compositor, but affording a better prospect.

He told me he was about to return to Philadelphia. He would carry a large quantity of goods to open a store there. He proposed to take me as his clerk. I would keep his books, which he would teach me to do, copy his letters, and tend the store. He added that once I learned mercantile business he would promote me. He planned to send me with a cargo of flour and bread and the like to the West Indies, and to obtain profitable commissions for me from others. If I managed well, he would establish me handsomely. The offer pleased me. I had grown tired of London and remembered with pleasure the happy months I had spent in Pennsylvania. I wanted to see it again. Therefore I immediately agreed to the terms of fifty pounds a year, Pennsylvania money. This was less than I then earned as a compositor, but it offered better prospects.

About $167.

I now took leave of printing, as I thought, forever, and was daily employed in my new business, going about with Mr. Denham among the tradesmen to purchase various articles, and seeing them pack'd up, doing errands, calling upon workmen to dispatch, etc.; and, when all was on board, I had a few days' leisure. On one of these days, I was, to my surprise, sent for by a great man I knew only by name, a Sir William Wyndham, and I waited upon him. He had heard by some means or other of my swimming from Chelsea to Blackfriars, and of my teaching Wygate and another young man to swim in a few hours. He had two sons, about to set out on their travels; he wish'd to have them first taught swimming, and proposed to gratify me handsomely if I would teach them. They were not yet come to town, and my stay was uncertain, so I could not undertake it; but, from this incident, I thought it likely that, if I were to remain in England and open a swimming-school, I might get a good deal of money; and it struck me so strongly, that, had the overture been sooner made me, probably I should not so soon have returned to America. After many years, you and I had something of more importance to do with one of these sons of Sir William Wyndham, become Earl of Egremont, which I shall mention in its place.

I left the printing trade, thinking it was for good, and I was daily busy with my new work. I went about with Mr. Denham to the tradesmen to buy various items. I saw them packed up, ran errands, and called on workmen to finish jobs. When everything was on board, I had a few days of leisure. One of those days I was, to my surprise, sent for by a great man I only knew by name, Sir William Wyndham. I called on him. He had somehow heard that I had swum from Chelsea to Blackfriars, and that I had taught Wygate and another young man to swim in just a few hours. He had two sons about to set out on their travels. He wanted them taught to swim first, and he offered to pay me well if I would teach them. They had not yet come to town, and I was unsure how long I would stay, so I could not take the job. This made me think that if I stayed in England and opened a swimming school, I might earn a good deal of money. The idea struck me so strongly that if the offer had come sooner, I probably would not have returned to America so soon. Many years later, you and I had something more important to do with one of Sir William Wyndham’s sons, who became the Earl of Egremont. I will mention that in its place.

Thus I spent about eighteen months in London; most part of the time I work'd hard at my business, and spent but little upon myself except in seeing plays and in books. My friend Ralph had kept me poor; he owed me about twenty-seven pounds, which I was now never likely to receive; a great sum out of my small earnings! I lov'd him, notwithstanding, for he had many amiable qualities. I had by no means improv'd my fortune; but I had picked up some very ingenious acquaintance, whose conversation was of great advantage to me; and I had read considerably.

Thus I spent about eighteen months in London. For most of that time I worked hard at my business. I spent little on myself, except on plays and books. My friend Ralph had kept me poor. He owed me about twenty-seven pounds, which I was not likely to receive. That was a great sum from my small earnings. I loved him notwithstanding, for he had many amiable qualities. I had by no means improved my fortune. I had, however, picked up some very ingenious acquaintances. Their conversation was of great advantage to me, and I had read considerably.