_Mental and Moral Conflicts._
Faithfulness to work--Neglect of Deborah Read--Treatise on
Liberty and Necessity--Skill in swimming--Return to
America--Marriage of Miss Read--Severe sickness--Death of
Mr. Denham--Returns to Keimer's employ--The Junto--His
Epitaph--Reformation of his treatise on Liberty and
Necessity--Franklin's creed.
Franklin and Ralph were essentially congenial in their tastes. Neither
of them were religiously inclined in the ordinary acceptation of those
words. But the thoughtful philosophy of Franklin has by many been
regarded as the development of an instinctively religious character.
They were both exceedingly fond of amusement and especially of
pleasure excursions on the Sabbath. Very seldom, did either the
intellect or the heart lure them to listen to such teachings as they
would hear from the pulpit. It certainly would have been better for
them both, had they been church-going young men. There was no pulpit
in all London from which they would not hear the reiterated counsel,
Cease to do evil; learn to do well.
Franklin was faithful in the highest degree to his employer.
Weary with the day's toil, which with his active mind was highly
intellectual as well as mechanical, he almost invariably in the
evening sought recreation with Ralph in the theatre. It is safe to
infer that the best productions of our best dramatists, were those
which would most interest the mind of our young philosopher. Ralph was
daily gaining an increasing influence over his mind. It is said that
we are prone to love more ardently those upon whom we confer favors
than those from whom we receive them.
To these two young men the pleasures of London seemed inexhaustible.
Franklin began to forget his old home and his friends. He began to
think that London was a very pleasant place of residence, and that it
was doubtful whether he should ever return to America again. He had
constant employment, the prospect of an increasing income, and with
his economical habits he had ample funds to relieve himself from all
pecuniary embarrassment. With his friend Ralph, he was leading a very
jovial life, free from all care.
His love for Deborah Read began to vanish away. He thought very
seldom of her: seldom could he find time to write to her; and ere
long his letters ceased altogether; and she was cruelly left to the
uncertainty of whether he was alive or dead. Ralph had entirely
forgotten his wife and child, and Franklin had equally forgotten his
affianced. In subsequent years the memory of this desertion seems to
have weighed heavily on him. He wrote in his advanced life in
reference to his treatment of Deborah,
"This was another of the great errors of my life; which I
could wish to correct were I to live it over again."
For nearly a year, Franklin thus continued in the employment of Mr.
Palmer, receiving good wages and spending them freely. A very highly
esteemed clergyman of the Church of England named Wollaston, had
written a book entitled, "The Religion of Nature Delineated." It was a
work which obtained much celebrity in those days and was published by
Mr. Palmer. It was of the general character of Butler's Analogy, and
was intended to prove that the morality enjoined by Jesus Christ, was
founded in the very nature of man; and that the principles of that
morality were immutable, even though deists should succeed in
destroying the public faith in the divine authority of Christianity.
It was eminently an amiable book, written with great charity and
candor, and without any dogmatic assumptions.
It chanced to fall to Franklin to set up the type. As was customary
with him, he made himself thoroughly acquainted with the treatise of
which he thus became the compositor. His mind was in such a state in
reference to the claims of that Christianity which certainly did not
commend the mode of life he was living, that it excited not only
antagonistic but even angry emotions. So thoroughly were his feelings
aroused, that he wrote and published a pamphlet of thirty-two pages,
in refutation of the theory of Mr. Wollaston.
Franklin dedicated his work, which was entitled "A dissertation
on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain," to James Ralph.
Fortunately, the treatise has descended to us unmutilated. He
commences with the observation:
"I have here given you my present thoughts upon the general
state of things in the universe."
The production was certainly a very able one to come from the pen of a
young printer of but nineteen years. Mr. Palmer, while recognizing its
ability, pronounced its principles to be atrocious and demoralizing.
The production of such a work, literary, philosophical and religious,
by probably the youngest companion of the journeymen printers, caused
them all to open their eyes with astonishment, and he was regarded at
once as a great man among them.[7]
[Footnote 7: In this extraordinary document our young deist writes,
"There is said to be a first mover, who is called God, who is all
wise, all good, all powerful. If he is all good, whatsoever he doeth
must be good. If he is all wise, whatever he doeth must be wise. That
there are things to which we give the name of _Evil_, is not to be
denied--such as theft, murder, etc. But these are not in reality
evils. To suppose anything to exist or to be done contrary to the will
of the Almighty is to suppose him not Almighty. There is nothing done
but God either does or permits. Though a creature may do many actions,
which, by his fellow creatures, will be named evil, yet he can not act
what will be in itself displeasing to God.
"We will sum up the argument thus, When the Creator first designed the
universe, either it was his will that all should exist and be in the
manner they are at this time, or it was his will that they should be
otherwise. To say it was His will things should be otherwise, is to
say that somewhat hath contradicted His will; which is impossible.
Therefore we must allow that all things exist now in a manner
agreeable to His will; and, in consequence of that, all are equally
good and therefore equally esteemed by Him. No condition of life or
being is better or preferable to another."
This whole treatise may be found in the appendix to the first volume
of Parton's Life of Franklin.]
The deists of London, who had united in a club of merry
free-thinkers, holding their meetings at an ale-house, sought out
Franklin and drew him into their convivial gatherings. These men had
no common principle of belief; they were united only in the negative
principle of unbelief in the Christian religion. Ralph had formed a
connection with a young milliner, by whom, through his many
fascinations, he was mainly supported.
Franklin, with his increasing expenditures, was now disposed to
shake off Ralph, as he needed all his money for his own convivial
enjoyments. Ralph went into the country and opened a school, where he
utterly failed. The unhappy milliner, ruined in character, and with a
little child, wrote to Franklin imploring aid. Her letters touched his
kindly heart. He could never see sorrow without wishing to relieve it.
He furnished her with money, in small sums, to the amount of one
hundred and thirty dollars; and worst of all, we regret to say that he
commenced treating her with such familiarity, that she, still faithful
to Ralph, repulsed him indignantly.[8]
[Footnote 8: Franklin writes in his autobiography, "I grew fond of her
company, and being at that time under no religious restraint, and
taking advantage of my importance to her, I attempted to take some
liberties with her, another _erratum_, which she repulsed with a
proper degree of resentment. She wrote to Ralph and acquainted him
with my conduct. This occasioned a breach between us; and when he
returned to London, he let me know he considered all the obligations
he had been under to me as annulled."--Works of Franklin, Vol. i, p.
59.]
Franklin does not conceal these _foibles_, as he regarded them, these
_sins_ as Christianity pronounces them. He declares this simply to
have been another of the great errors of his youth. She informed Ralph
of his conduct. He was enraged, broke off all further communication
with Franklin, and thirty-five years passed away before they met
again. Ralph, goaded to desperation, gained a wretched living in
various literary adventures; writing for any body, on any side, and
for any price. Indeed he eventually gained quite an ephemeral
reputation. He could express himself with vivacity, and several quite
prominent politicians sought the aid of his pen.
Franklin, thus relieved from the support of Ralph, soon after entered
a more extensive printing house, at Lincoln's Inn Fields. Though he
was exceedingly fond of a sparkling glass of wine in his convivial
hours, he was too much of a philosopher to stupefy his brain in
guzzling beer. His habitual daily beverage was cold water.
"My companion at the press," he wrote, "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, and another when he had done his day's work. I
thought it a detestable custom. But it was necessary, he
supposed, to drink strong beer that he might be strong to
labor. I endeavored to convince him that the bodily strength
afforded by beer could only be in proportion to the grain or
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 could 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 vile liquor; an
expense I was free from; and thus these poor devils keep
themselves always under."
Again Franklin wrote in characteristic phrase, in reference to the
influence of his example over some of his companions,
"From my example, a great many of them left their muddling
breakfast of bread, beer and cheese, finding they could,
with me, be supplied from a neighboring house, with a large
porringer of hot water gruel, sprinkled with pepper,
crumbled with bread and a bit of butter in it, for the price
of a pint of beer,--three half-pence. This was a more
comfortable, as well as a cheaper breakfast, and kept their
heads clearer. Those who continued sotting with their beer
all day, were often, by not paying, out of credit at the
ale-house; and used to make interest with me to get beer;
their _light_ as they phrased it being out. I watched the
pay table on Saturday night, and collected what I stood
engaged for them, having to pay sometimes on their account."
Franklin's skill in swimming, as we have mentioned was very
remarkable. At one time he swam from London to Chelsea, a distance of
four miles. Several of his companions he taught to swim in two
lessons. His celebrity was such that he was urged to open a swimming
school.[9] The life of self-indulgence he was now living in London,
was not such as even his loose religious principles could approve. He
had abandoned the faith of his fathers, and had adopted, for his rule
of conduct, the principle, that it was right to yield to any
indulgences to which his passions incited him. He became tired of
London, and probably found it necessary to break away from the
influences and associates with which he had surrounded himself.
[Footnote 9: "On one of these days I was, to my surprise, sent for by
a great man I knew only by name, Sir William Wyndham. He had heard 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 wished 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 the incident I thought it likely that if I were
to remain in England and opened a swimming-school I might get a good
deal of money. And it struck me so strongly that had the overture been
made me sooner, probably I should not so soon have returned to
America."--Autobiography, Vol. I. p. 66.]
Mr. Denham, his companion of voyage, had decided to return to
Philadelphia, and open an extensive store. He offered Franklin two
hundred and fifty dollars a year as book-keeper. Though this was less
than the sum Franklin was then earning, as compositor, there were
prospects of his advancement. This consideration, in addition to his
desire to escape from London, led him to accept the offer. He was now
twenty years of age. It does not appear that he had thus far formed
any deliberate plan for his life's work. He floated along as the
current of events drifted him.
On the twenty-first of July, 1726, Franklin embarked on board the ship
Berkshire for Philadelphia. He had been absent from America but little
more than a year and a half. During this time he had not increased his
fortune, for he had spent his money as fast as he had earned it. After
a voyage of eighty days, the ship cast anchor before Philadelphia. At
that time ships were often from three to seven months effecting the
passage across the Atlantic.
As usual Franklin kept a diary punctually during his long voyage. Its
pages were replete with pithy remarks of wit and wisdom. He was very
fond of a game of checkers, and in that amusement beguiled many weary
hours. We find the following striking comments upon the diversion in
his journal:
"It is a game I much delight in. But it requires a clear head
and undisturbed. The persons playing, if they would play
well, ought not much to regard the _consequences_ of the
game; for that diverts and withdraws the mind from the game
itself, and makes the player liable to make many false, open
moves. I will venture to lay it down for an infallible rule
that if two persons equal in judgment, play for a
considerable sum, he that loves money most, shall lose. His
anxiety for the success of the game confounds him. Courage is
almost as requisite for the good conduct of this game as in a
real battle; for if the player imagines himself opposed by
one that is much his superior in skill, his mind is so intent
on the defensive part, that an advantage passes unobserved."
The Governor of the Isle of Wight had died, leaving the reputation
of having been one of the most consummate scoundrels who ever
exercised despotic power. Franklin, in his treatise upon "Liberty and
Necessity," written but a few months before, had assumed that there
was no such thing as good and evil; that God ordered and controlled
every event; and that consequently every event was in accordance with
His will, and alike pleasing in His sight. But now we find the
following record in his journal, which most readers will recognize as
inconsistent with the young philosopher's theological opinions. He
writes:
"At the death of this governor, it appeared that he was a
great villain, and a great politician. There was no crime so
damnable, which he would stick at in the execution of his
designs. And yet he had the art of covering all so thick,
that with almost all men in general, while he lived he passed
for a saint. In short, I believe it is impossible for a man,
though he has all the cunning of a devil, to live and die a
villain, and yet conceal it so well as to carry the name of
an honest fellow to the grave with him, but some one by some
accident or other, shall discover him. Truth and sincerity
have a certain distinguishing, native lustre about them,
which cannot be perfectly counterfeited. They are like fire
and flame that cannot be painted."
We should infer, from some intimations in Franklin's diary, that he
was troubled by some qualms of conscience, in view of his abandonment
of Miss Read, and his irregular life in London. He has left a paper in
which he stated that he had never formed any regular plan for the
control of his conduct: that he was now about to enter on a new life;
and that he was resolved that henceforth he would speak the truth, be
industrious in his business, and speak ill of no man. These were
rather meagre resolutions for a young man under these circumstances to
adopt.
Soon after landing at Philadelphia, Franklin chanced to meet Sir
William Keith in the streets. The governor seemed much embarrassed,
and passed by without speaking. It does not appear that the
acquaintance was ever resumed. The governor lived nearly twenty-five
years afterward, a dishonored and ruined man, and died in the extreme
of poverty.
Poor Miss Read, heart-broken, and deeming herself forever abandoned,
yielded to the importunities of her friends and married a mechanic by
the name of Rogers. He proved to be a thoroughly worthless fellow. His
unconcealed profligacy, and unfaithfulness to his wife, compelled her,
after a few months of wretchedness, to return to her mother, and to
resume her maiden name. The profligate husband fled from his creditors
to the West Indies. Rumors soon reached Philadelphia of his death,
leaving probably another wife.
Franklin entered upon his duties as clerk of Mr. Denham, with his
accustomed energy and skill. He carried into his new vocation, all his
intellectual sagacity, and speedily won not only the confidence but
the affection of his employer. He lived with Mr. Denham, and being
always disposed to look upon the bright side of everything, even of
his own imperfections, notwithstanding his infidelity to Miss Read, he
seems to have been a very happy and even jovial young man.
Four months after Franklin had entered upon his mercantile career,
both Mr. Denham and Franklin were seized with the pleurisy. Mr. Denham
died. Franklin, though brought near to the grave, recovered. He
writes:
"I suffered a great deal; gave up the point in my own mind;
and was at the time rather disappointed when I found myself
recovering; regretting in some degree that I must now,
sometime or other, have all that disagreeable work to do over
again."
The death of Mr. Denham broke up the establishment, and Franklin was
thrown out of employment. Keimer, in whose service he had formerly
been engaged, again made him an offer to superintend a printing
office. Franklin accepted the proposition. There were five inefficient
hands, whom Franklin was expected to transform into accomplished
printers. With these, and a few others, he organized a literary club,
called the "Junto; or the Leathern Apron Club," as nearly every member
was a mechanic.
The club met every Friday evening, and the wine cup, to stimulate
conviviality, passed freely among them. There were twenty-four
questions, which were every evening read, to which answers were to be
returned by any one who could answer them. Between each question, it
was expected that each member would fill, and empty, his glass. One
would think that the wine must have been very weak, or the heads of
these young men very strong, to enable them to quaff twenty-four
glasses unharmed. We give a few of the questions as specimens of their
general character.
1. "Have you met with anything in the author you last read?
3. "Has any citizen in your knowledge failed, and have you
heard the cause?
7. "What unhappy effects of intemperance have you lately
observed?
12. "Has any deserving stranger arrived in town since your
last meeting?
16. "Has anybody attacked your reputation lately?
23. "Is there any difficulty which you would gladly have
discussed at this time?"
Debates, declamation, and the reading of essays added to the
entertainment of these gatherings. Stories were told, and bacchanal
songs sung. No man could tell a better story, and few men could sing a
better song than Benjamin Franklin. No one was deemed a suitable
member of the club, who would not contribute his full quota to the
entertainment or instruction. The questions proposed by Franklin for
discussion, developed the elevated intellectual region his thoughts
were accustomed to range. We give a few as specimens.
"Can any one particular form of government suit all mankind?
"Should it be the aim of philosophy to eradicate the
passions?
"Is perfection attainable in this life?
"What general conduct of life is most suitable for men in
such circumstances as most of the members of the Junto are?"
The Junto was limited to twelve members. It soon became so popular
that applications for admission became very frequent. Six months
passed rapidly away, when Keimer, who was an exceedingly immoral and
worthless man, and was fast going to ruin, in some fit of drunkenness,
or ungovernable irritation, entered the office, and assailed Franklin
with such abuse, that he took his hat, and repaired to his lodgings,
resolved never to return.
Franklin was twenty-one years of age. He had laid up no money. He was
still but a journeyman printer. The draft which he had received from
Mr. Vernon for fifty dollars had not yet been paid. He was exceedingly
mortified when he allowed himself to reflect upon this delinquency
which certainly approached dishonesty. In this emergence he conferred
with a fellow journeyman by the name of Hugh Meredith, whose father
was a gentleman of considerable property. Meredith proposed that they
should enter into partnership, he furnishing the funds, and Franklin
the business capacity.
At that time Franklin, remembering his narrow escape from the grave
by the pleurisy, wrote his own epitaph which has been greatly
celebrated. It has generally been admired; but some of more sensitive
minds perceive in it a tone which is somewhat repulsive.
"The Body
of
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN,
_Printer_,
(Like the cover of an old book,
Its contents torn out,
And stripped of its lettering and gilding,)
Lies here, food for worms.
Yet the work itself shall not be lost,
For it will, as he believed, appear once more,
In a new
And more beautiful edition,
Corrected and amended
By
THE AUTHOR."
The excellencies of Franklin did not run in the line of exquisite
sensibilities. At the early age of fifteen he began to cast off the
restraints of the religion of his father and mother. Nearly all his
associates were what were called Free-thinkers. He could not be blind
to their moral imperfections. Mr. Parton writes,
"His old friend Collins, he remembered, was a Free-thinker,
and Collins had gone astray. Ralph was a Free-thinker, and
Ralph was a great sinner. Keith was a Free-thinker, and
Keith was the greatest liar in Pennsylvania. Benjamin
Franklin was a Free-thinker, and how shamefully he had
behaved to Ralph's mistress, to Mr. Vernon and Miss Read,
whose young life had been blighted through him."[10]
[Footnote 10: Parton's Life of Franklin, Vol. I, p. 168.]
Franklin's creed thus far, consisted only of negations. He had no
belief; he had only unbelief. Indeed he seems to have become quite
ashamed of his treatise upon Liberty and Necessity, published in
London, and felt constrained to write a refutation of it.[11] As this
strange young man in his discontent looked over the religions of
the world, he could find no one that met his views. He therefore
deliberately and thoughtfully sat down to form a religion of his own.
Many such persons have appeared in the lapse of the ages, and almost
invariably they have announced their creeds with the words, "Thus
saith the Lord." But our young printer of twenty-two years, made no
profession whatever, of any divine aid. He simply said, "Thus saith my
thoughts." One would think he could not have much confidence in those
thoughts, when it is remembered that at this time he was writing a
refutation of the opinions, which he had published in London but a few
months before.
[Footnote 11: "My arguments perverted some others, especially Collins
and Ralph. But each of these having wronged me greatly without the
least compunction; and recollecting Keith's conduct towards me, who
was another Free-thinker, and my own towards Vernon and Miss Read,
which at times gave me great trouble, I began to suspect that this
doctrine, though it might be true, was not very useful. My London
pamphlet, printed in 1725, and which had for its motto,
"'Whatever is is right,'
and which from the attributes of God, His infinite wisdom, goodness
and power, concluded that nothing could possibly be wrong in the
world, and that vice and virtue were empty distinctions, no such
things existing, appeared now not so clever a performance, as I once
thought it; and I doubted whether some error had not insinuated itself
unperceived into my argument."
In the year 1779, Dr. Franklin wrote to Dr. Benjamin Vaughn respecting
this pamphlet.
"There were only one hundred copies printed, of which I gave a few to
friends. Afterwards, disliking the piece, I burnt the rest, except one
copy. I was not nineteen years of age when it was written. In 1730, I
wrote a piece on the other side of the question, which began with
laying for its foundation that almost all men, in all ages and
countries, have at times made use of prayer.
"Thence I reasoned that if all things are ordained, prayer must be
among the rest ordained; but as prayer can procure no change in things
that are ordained, praying must then be useless and an absurdity. God
would, therefore, not ordain praying if everything else was ordained.
But praying exists, therefore all other things are not ordained. This
manuscript was never printed. The great uncertainty I found in
metaphysical reasoning disgusted me, and I quitted that kind of
reading and study for others more satisfactory."--Autobiography, p.
76.]
The book which Franklin thus prepared was entitled "Articles of
Belief, and Acts of Religion." His simple creed was that there was one
Supreme God who had created many minor gods; that the supreme God was
so great that he did not desire the worship of man but was far above
it.
The minor gods are perhaps immortal, and perhaps after the ages lapse
they are changed, others supplying their place. Each of these
subordinate gods has created for himself a sun with its planetary
system, over which he presides and from the inhabitants of which he
expects adoration. He writes,
"It is that particular wise and good God, who is the author
and owner of our system that I propose for the object of my
praise and adoration. It is to be inferred that this God is
not above caring for us, is pleased with our praise, and
offended when we slight him."
He then prepares an invocation to this god of our solar system. It is
founded on the style of the Psalms, but is immeasurably inferior to
most of those sublime utterances of the Psalmist of Israel. And still
the sentiments breathed were ennobling in their character; they proved
that Franklin was vastly superior to the thoughtless, reckless deists
who surrounded him, and that his soul was reaching forth and yearning
for higher and holier attainments. In this invocation, the whole of
which we cannot quote, he writes,
"O Creator! O Father! I believe that thou art good; and that
thou art pleased with the pleasure of thy children. Praised
be thy name forever. By thy power thou hast made the
glorious sun with his attending worlds. By thy wisdom thou
hast formed all things. Thy wisdom, thy power, and thy
goodness are everywhere clearly seen. Thou abhorrest in thy
creatures treachery and deceit, malice, revenge,
intemperance, and every other hurtful vice. But thou art a
lover of justice and sincerity, of friendship and
benevolence, and every virtue. Thou art my friend, my
father, and my benefactor. Praised be thy name; O God,
forever. Amen."
The prayer which followed, doubtless giving utterance to his most
inward feelings, is beautiful.
"Inasmuch," he wrote, "as by reason of our ignorance, we
cannot be certain that many things, which we often hear
mentioned in the petitions of men to the Deity, would prove
real goods if they were in our possession, and as I have
reason to hope and believe that the goodness of my Heavenly
Father will not withhold from me a suitable share of temporal
blessings, if by a virtuous and holy life I conciliate his
favor and kindness; therefore I presume not to ask such
things; but rather humbly and with a sincere heart, express
my earnest desire that he would graciously assist my
continual endeavors and resolutions of eschewing vice and
embracing virtue, which kind of supplication will at the same
time remind me in a solemn manner of my extensive duty."
He then added the supplication that he might be preserved from
atheism, impiety and profaneness; that he might be loyal to his
prince; that he might be gracious to those below him; that he might
refrain from calumny and detraction; that he might be sincere in
friendship, just in his dealings, grateful to his benefactors, patient
in affliction; that he might have tenderness for the weak, and that,
rejoicing in the good of others, he might become truly virtuous and
magnanimous.
It is very evident that some unexplained circumstances had called the
attention of Franklin very earnestly to the subject of religion. He
wrote very much upon that theme, and published a new version of the
Lord's Prayer, and a lecture upon Providence and Predestination. He,
however, admits that he very seldom attended any public worship,
adding,
"I had still an opinion of its propriety and its utility,
when rightly conducted; and I regularly paid my annual
subscription for the support of the only Presbyterian
minister."
Rumors soon reached Franklin's good father of Boston, of his son's
free-thinking, and he wrote to his son in much alarm. In Franklin's
reply, he said,
"All that should be expected from me, is to keep my mind
open to conviction; to hear patiently and examine
attentively whatever is offered me for that end. And if
after all I continue in the same errors, I believe your
usual charity will induce you rather to pity and excuse,
than to blame me. In the meantime, your care and concern for
me, is what I am very thankful for. My mother grieves that
one of her sons is an Arian, and another an Arminian. What
an Arminian or an Arian is, I cannot say that I very well
know. The truth is, I make such distinctions very little my
study. I think vital religion has always suffered when
orthodoxy is more regarded than virtue. And the Scriptures
assure me that at the last day we shall not be examined what
we thought but what we did."
Franklin, having no revealed religion to guide him, and having no
foundation for his faith, but the ever-changing vagaries of his own
fantastic imagination, could have no belief to-day, of which he had
any certainty that he would hold the same to-morrow. He was
continually abandoning one after another of the articles of his
fantastical creed, and adopting others in their place. At length he
settled down upon the following simple belief, which with very
considerable tenacity, but without any attempt to promulgate it, he
adhered to for many years. It consisted of the six following articles
which we give in briefest language.
1. "There is one God.
2. "He governs the world.
3. "He ought to be worshipped.
4. "Doing good is the service most acceptable to him.
5. "Man is immortal.
6. "In the future world the souls of men will be dealt with
justly."
It is very evident that Franklin had no great confidence in his
theological opinions. He studiously avoided all writing upon the
subject, and as far as possible all conversation. Still, with his keen
sense of humor, he could not refrain from occasionally plunging a
pretty sharp dagger's thrust into the palpable imperfections of the
various and contending sects.
There was very little moral power, in the creed he professed, to
arrest young men, of glowing passions, and exposed to the most
difficult temptations, in their downward career. No voice of Franklin
was heard with potency calling upon those who were thronging the broad
road. In a lecture upon Providence, to his companions of the Junto,
which was subsequently published, and which reflects some considerable
honor upon the earnestness of his thoughts, he wrote,
"I am especially discouraged when I reflect that you are all
my intimate pot-companions, who have heard me say a
thousand silly things in conversation, and therefore have
not that laudable partiality and veneration for whatever I
shall deliver that good people have for their spiritual
guides; that you have no reverence for my habit, nor for the
sanctity of my countenance; that you do not believe me
inspired, nor divinely assisted; and therefore will think
yourself at liberty to assert, or dissert, approve or
disapprove of anything I advance, canvassing and sifting it
as the private opinion of one of your acquaintance."
Though it was Franklin's assumption that his religion was one of works
and not of faith, still it must be admitted that his life was very
inconsistent with those principles of purity, moral loveliness and
good report which the Gospel enjoins. With his remarkable honesty of
mind, in strains which we are constrained, though with regret to
record, he writes,
"That hard-to-be governed passion of youth had hurried me
frequently into intrigues with low women that fell in my
way, which were attended with some expense and great
inconvenience, besides a continual risk to my health by
distemper, which of all things I dreaded, though by great
luck I escaped it."
Mr. Parton writes, "It was perhaps owing to his frequent delinquencies
in this way, that his liturgy contains no allusion to a vice, which is
of all others the most alluring to a youth of Franklin's temperament.
He was too sincere and logical a man to go before his God and ask
assistance against a fault which he had not fully resolved to
overcome, and that immediately. About a year after the date of his
liturgy was born his illegitimate son William Franklin, who became
Governor of New Jersey. If laws were as easily executed as enacted,
Benjamin Franklin would have received, upon this occasion, twenty-one
lashings at the public whipping-post of Philadelphia."