Ben, as we have seen, was never without a knot of choice spirits, like
satellites, constantly revolving around him, and both receiving and
reflecting light. By these satellites I mean young men of fine minds,
and fond of books. He had at this time a _trio_ of such. The first was
of the name of Osborne, the second Watson, and the third Ralph. As the
two first were a good deal of the nature of wandering stars, which,
though bright, soon disappear again, I shall let them pass away in
silence. But the last, that's to say, Ralph, shone so long in the same
sphere with Ben, both in America and Europe, that it will never do to
let him go without giving the reader somewhat at least of a telescopic
squint at him. James Ralph, then, was a young man of the first rate
talents, ingenious at argument, of flowery fancy, most fascinating in
his manners, and uncommonly eloquent. In short, he appears to have
been built and equipped to run the voyage of life with as splendid
success as any. But alas! as the seamen say of their ships, "_he took
the wrong sheer_." Hence, while many a DULL GENIUS, with only a few
plain-sailing virtues on board, such as honest industry, good humour,
and prudence, have made fine weather through life, and come into port
at last laden _up to the bends_ with riches and honours, this gallant
PROA, this stately GONDOLA, the moment he was put to sea, was caught
up in a Euroclydon of furious passions and appetites that shivered his
character and peace, and made a wreck of him at the very outset.
According to his own account, it appears that Ben was often haunted
with fears that he himself had some hand in Ralph's disasters. Dr.
Franklin was certainly one of the wisest of mankind. But with all his
wisdom he was still but a man, and therefore liable to err. Solomon,
we know, was fallible; what wonder then young Franklin?
But here lies the difference between these two wise men, as to their
errors. Solomon, according to scripture, was sometimes overcome of
Satan, even in the bone and sinew of his strength; but the devil was
too hard for Franklin only while he was in the _gristle_ of his youth.
The case was thus: among the myriads of books which came to his eager
tooth, there was a most unlucky one on deism, written, 'tis said, by
Shaftesbury, a man admirably calculated to pervert the truth; or, as
Milton says of one of his fallen spirits, to make "_the worse appear
the better reason_." Mark now this imposing writer--he does not utter
you a word against religion; not he indeed: no, not for the world.
Why, sirs, he's the best friend of religion. He praises it up to the
skies, as the sole glory of man, the strong pillar of his virtues, and
the inexhaustible fountain of all his hopes. But then he cannot away
with that false religion, that detestable superstition called
christianity. And here, to set his readers against it, he gives them a
most horrible catalogue of the cruelties and bloody persecutions it
has always occasioned in the world; nay, he goes so far as to assert
that christians are the _natural enemies of mankind_; "vainly
conceiting themselves," says he, "to be the favourites of heaven, they
look on the rest of the world but as 'heathen dogs' whom it is 'doing
God service to kill,' and whose goods it is right to seize on, as
spoil for the Lord's people! Who," he asks crowingly, "filled Asia
with fire and sword in the bloody wars of the Crusades? The
christians. Who depopulated the fine negro-coasts of Africa? The
christians. Who extirpated many of the once glorious Indian nations of
America? The christians; nay," continues he, "so keen are those
christians for blood, that when they can't get their 'heathen dogs' to
fall on, they fall on one another: witness the papist christians
destroying the protestants, and the protestant christians destroying
the papists. And still greater shame," says he, "to these sweet
followers of the Lamb, these papist and protestant christians, when
they can no longer worry each other, will worry those of their own
party, as in numberless and shameful cases of the calvinists and
arminians; nay, so prone are the christians to hate, that their
greatest doctors even in their _pulpits_, instead of exhorting to
piety and those godlike virtues, that make men honour and love one
another, will fix on the vainest speculations; which, though not
understood by one soul among them, yet serve abundantly to set them
all by the ears; yes, they can hate one another:
"For believing that there are three persons in the Godhead; or only
one person.
"For believing that there are children in hell not a span long; or
for not believing it.
"For believing that every body will be saved; or for believing that
scarcely any body will be saved.
"For baptizing in mill ponds; or only out of china bowls.
"For taking the sacrament in both elements; or only in the bread.
"For praying in Latin; or for praying only in English.
"For praying with a book; or for praying without a book.
"For praying standing; or for praying kneeling.
"For reading the Bible by themselves; or for reading it only with a
priest.
"For wearing long beards; or for shaving their beards.
"For preaching up predestination; or for preaching up free will.
"Now," continues our writer, "barely to _hate_ one's neighbours for
such notions as these, were enough, one would think, to make any
common d----l blush; but these christians, as if to out-d----l Satan
himself, can not only hate, but actually murder one another for these
contradictory notions! yes; and oh, horrible to think! not only
murder, but even glory in it: at every shower of cruel bullets on
their flying victims; or at every plunge of the reeking spear into the
bodies of shrieking mothers and infants, they can cheer each other to
_the glorious spot_ with animating huzzas! and even when the infernal
tragedy is closed, they can write congratulatory letters, and sing _Te
Deums_, giving glory to God that the MONSTERS--the BEASTS--the
HERETICS, are rooted out."
Such was the prince of infidels. And it was the very argument to
stagger Ben, even the dangerous argument of example, which young as he
was, he had learned to consider as a short way of coming at men's real
principles.
"Example is a living law, whose sway
Men more than all the living laws obey."
Or as Hudibras has it,
"Men oft prove it by their _practice_:
No argument like matter of _fact_ is.
And we are, best of all, led to
Men's principles, by what they do."
'Tis true, that to tax the gospel with these accursed deeds of mad
papists and protestants, is just about as good logic as to accuse our
excellent civil code with all the crimes of gamblers and horse
thieves--the very rascals it aims to hang. Or like charging the sun as
the cause of _darkness_, which indeed it was given to dispel.
But Ben was too young yet, to know everything. And besides, led
altogether as he was by the strongest feelings of sympathy, it is not
much to be wondered at, that this popular argument, "_the barbarities
of christians_," should have excited so lasting prejudice against
christianity. As some men of delicate natures who have taken an
emetic, though in the best madeira, can never afterwards bear the
smell of that generous liquor; so christianity, steeped in tears and
blood, excited in Ben an aversion that stuck by him a long time. In
short, Ben became an unbeliever. And, like Paul of Tarsus, during the
reign of his unbelief, "_he thought verily he ought to do many things
contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth, which things he also did_,"
arguing powerfully for _natural_ religion.
How many converts he made to infidelity, I have never been able
exactly to learn. But certain it is, he made two, viz. John Collins
and James Ralph. As to Collins, we have seen already, that in
converting him to scepticism, he soon _drew down an old house over his
head_, his pupil quickly turning out a most impudent drunkard and
swindler. And though he expected better luck from Ralph, yet he
quickly discovered in him also certain very dismal symptoms of the
cloven foot.
Some short time before the sailing of the Annis, Ben, in the warmth of
his heart, told Ralph of the immense affair which Sir William Keith
had engaged him in, viz. to make him the KING'S PRINTER in
Philadelphia. And also that he was about to sail in a few days on that
very errand for London. Ralph suddenly turned serious; the next day he
came and told Ben that he had made up his mind to go with him. "How
can that be," said Ben, "seeing you have a young wife and child?" To
this Ralph replied, with an oath, that "that should be no obstacle."
"It was true," he said, "he had married the wench, but it was only for
her money. But since the old rascal, her father, would not give it to
him, he was determined to be revenged on him, by leaving his daughter
and grandchild on his hands for life."
Ben, though greatly shocked by this trait in his character, was yet so
blindly partial to Ralph that he could not find in his heart to spurn
him from his acquaintance. But for this, as he afterwards called it,
_great error in his life_, he received a chastisement, which, though
pretty severe, was not one stripe more than he richly deserved.