unsuccessful, the Danish and Swedish. If they were refused, which was
likely, for human folly was without end, let them imitate the ancient
clergy of Scotland, who, having built their Cathedral of St. Andrew,
wanted to borrow some bishops from the King of Northumberland to ordain
them a bishop for themselves. The king would lend them none. So they
laid the mitre, crosier, and robes of a bishop on the altar, and, after
earnest prayers for guidance, elected one of their own members. "Arise,"
they said to him, "go to the altar and receive your office at the hand
of God," And thus he became the first bishop of Scotland. "If the
British isles," said Franklin, "were sunk in the sea (and the surface of
this globe has suffered greater changes) you would probably take some
such method as this." And so he went on enlarging on the topic until he
had a capital story to tell Madame Helvetius the next time they flirted
and dined together in their learned way.
But his most notable escapade in religion, and one in which his sense of
humor seems to have failed him, was his abridgment of the Church of
England's "Book of Common Prayer." It seems that in the year 1772, while
in England as a representative of the colonies, he visited the
country-seat of Sir Francis Dashwood, Lord le Despencer, a reformed rake
who had turned deist and was taking a gentlemanly interest in religion.
He had been, it is said, a companion of John Wilkes, Bubb Doddington,
Paul Whitehead, the Earl of Sandwich, and other reckless characters who
established themselves as an order of monks at Medmenham Abbey, where
they held mock religious ceremonies, and where the trial of the
celebrated Chevalier D'Eon was held to prove his disputed sex. An old
book, called "Chrysal, or the Adventures of a Guinea," professes to
describe the doings of these lively blades.
Lord Despencer and Franklin decided that the prayer-book was entirely
too long. Its prolixity kept people from going to church. The aged and
infirm did not like to sit so long in cold churches in winter, and even
the young and sinful might attend more willingly if the service were
shorter.
Franklin was already a dabster at liturgies. Had he not, when only
twenty-two, written his own creed and liturgy, compounded of mythology
and Christianity? and had he not afterwards, as is supposed, assisted
David Williams to prepare the "Apology for Professing the Religion of
Nature," with a most reasonable and sensible liturgy annexed? Lord
Despencer had also had a little practice in such matters in his mock
religious rites at the old abbey. Franklin, who was very fond of him,
tells of the delightful days he spent at his country-seat, and adds,
"But a pleasanter thing is the kind countenance, the facetious and very
intelligent conversation of mine host, who having been for many years
engaged in public affairs, seen all parts of Europe, and kept the best
company in the world, is himself the best existing."[8] I have no doubt
that his lordship's experience had been a varied one; but it is a
question whether it was of such a character as to fit him for
prayer-book revision. He, however, went seriously to work, and revised
all of the book except the catechism and the reading and singing psalms,
which he requested Franklin to abridge for him.
The copy which this precious pair went over and marked with a pen is now
in the possession of Mr. Howard Edwards, of Philadelphia, and is a most
interesting relic. From this copy Lord Despencer had the abridgment
printed at his own expense; but it attracted no attention in England.
All references to the sacraments and to the divinity of the Saviour
were, of course, stricken out and short work made of the Athanasian and
the Apostles' Creed. Even the commandments in the catechism had the pen
drawn through them, which was rather inconsistent with the importance
that Franklin attached to morals as against dogma. But both editors, no
doubt, had painful recollections on this subject; and as Franklin would
have been somewhat embarrassed by the seventh, he settled the question
by disposing of them all.
The most curious mutilation, however, was in the Te Deum, most of which
was struck out, presumably by Lord Despencer. The Venite was treated in
a similar way by Franklin. The beautiful canticle, "All ye Works of the
Lord," which is sometimes used in place of the Te Deum, was entirely
marked out. As this canticle is the nearest approach in the prayer-book
to anything like the religion of nature, it is strange that it should
have suffered. But Franklin, though of picturesque life and character,
interested in music as a theory, a writer of verse as an exercise, and a
lover of the harmony of a delicately balanced prose sentence, had,
nevertheless, not the faintest trace of poetry in his nature.
[Illustration: THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER AS ABRIDGED BY LORD DESPENCER
AND FRANKLIN]
The book, which is now a very rare and costly relic, a single copy
selling for over a thousand dollars, was known in America as "Franklin's
Prayer-Book," and he was usually credited with the whole revision,
although he expressly declared in a letter on the subject that he had
abridged only the catechism and the reading and singing psalms. But he
seems to have approved of the whole work, for he wrote the preface
which explains the alterations. A few years after the Revolution, when
the American Church was reorganizing itself, the "Book of Common Prayer"
was revised and abbreviated by competent hands; and from a letter
written by Bishop White it would seem that he had examined the "Franklin
Prayer-Book," and was willing to adopt its arrangement of the calendar
of holy days.[9]
The preface which Franklin wrote for the abridgment was an exquisitely
pious little essay. It was written as though coming from Lord Despencer,
"a Protestant of the Church of England," and a "sincere lover of social
worship." His lordship also held "in the highest veneration the
doctrines of Jesus Christ," which was a gratifying assurance.
When Franklin was about twenty-two or twenty-three and wrote his curious
creed and liturgy, he seems to have been in that not altogether
desirable state of mind which is sometimes vulgarly described as
"getting religion." He was not the sort of man to be carried away by one
of those religious revival excitements of which we have seen so many in
our time, but he was as near that state as a person of his intellect
could be.
Preaching to him and direct effort at his conversion would, of course,
have had no effect on such an original disposition. The revival which he
experienced was one which he started for himself, and, besides his creed
and liturgy, it consisted of an attempt to arrive at moral perfection.
"I wished to live," he says, "without committing any fault at
any time; I would conquer all that either natural inclination,
custom, or company might lead me into. As I knew or thought I
knew what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might not
always do the one and avoid the other."
So he prepared his moral code of all the virtues he thought necessary,
with his comments thereon, and it speaks for itself:
"1. TEMPERANCE.--Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.
"2. SILENCE.--Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself;
avoid trifling conversation.
"3. ORDER.--Let all your things have their places; let each part
of your business have its time.
"4. RESOLUTION.--Resolve to perform what you ought; perform
without fail what you resolve.
"5. FRUGALITY.--Make no expense but to do good to others or
yourself; i. e. waste nothing.
"6. INDUSTRY.--Lose no time; be always employed in something
useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.
"7. SINCERITY.--Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and
justly; and if you speak, speak accordingly.
"8. JUSTICE.--Wrong none by doing injuries or omitting the
benefits that are your duty.
"9. MODERATION.--Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so
much as you think they deserve.
"10. CLEANLINESS.--Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes,
or habitation.
"11. TRANQUILLITY.--Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents
common or unavoidable.
"12. CHASTITY.--Rarely use venery but for health or offspring,
never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of your own or
another's peace or reputation.
"13. HUMILITY.--Imitate Jesus and Socrates."
He thought that he could gradually acquire the habit of keeping all
these virtues, and instead of attempting the whole at once, he fixed his
attention on one at a time, and when he thought he was master of that,
proceeded to the next, and so on. He had arranged them in the order he
thought would most facilitate their gradual acquisition, beginning with
temperance and proceeding to silence; for the mastery of those which
were easiest would help him to attain the more difficult. He has,
therefore, left us at liberty to judge which were his most persistent
sins.
He had a little book with a page for each virtue, and columns arranged
for the days of the week, so that he could give himself marks for
failure or success. He began by devoting a week to each virtue, by which
arrangement he could go through the complete course in thirteen weeks,
or four courses in a year.
His intense moral earnestness and introspection were doubtless inherited
from his New England origin. But when he was in the midst of all this
creed- and code-making, he records of himself:
"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 a distemper, which of
all things I dreaded, though by great good luck I escaped it."
His biographer, Parton, reminds us that his liturgy has no prayer
against this vice, and that about a year after the date of the liturgy
his illegitimate son William was born. The biographer then goes on to
say that Franklin 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." There is, however, a prayer in the liturgy against
lasciviousness. He had not yet paid Mr. Vernon the money he had
embezzled, although he was the author of a prayer asking to be delivered
from deceit and fraud, and another against unfaithfulness in trust.[10]
It is obvious that this inconsistency is very like human nature,
especially youthful human nature. There is nothing wonderful in it. It
was simply the struggle which often takes place in boys who are both
physically and mentally strong. The only thing unusual is that the
person concerned has made a complete revelation of it. Such things are
generally deeply concealed from the public. But that curious frankness
which was mingled with Franklin's astuteness has in his own case opened
wide the doors.
It has been commonly stated in his biographies that he had but one
illegitimate child, a son; but from a manuscript letter in the
possession of the Pennsylvania Historical Society, written by John
Foxcroft, February 2, 1772, and never heretofore printed, it appears
that he had also an illegitimate daughter, married to John Foxcroft:
"PHILAD^A Feby 2d, 1772.
"DEAR SIR
"I have the happiness to acquaint you that your Daughter was
safely brot to Bed the 20^th ulto and presented me with a sweet
little girl, they are both in good spirits and are likely to do
very well.
"I was seized with a Giddyness in my head the Day before
yesterday wch alarms me a good deal as I had 20 oz of blood
taken from me and took physick wch does not seem in the least
to have relieved me.
[Illustration: JOHN FOXCROFT]
"I am hardly able to write this. Mrs F joins me in best
affections to yourself and compts to Mrs Stevenson and Mr and
Mrs Huson.
"I am D^r Sir
"Yrs. affectionately
"JOHN FOXCROFT.
"Mrs Franklin, Mrs Bache, little Ben & Family at Burlington are
all well. I had a letter from ye Gov^r yesterday
J. F."
Among the Franklin papers in the State Department at Washington there
are copies of a number of letters which Franklin wrote to Foxcroft, and
in three of them--October 7, 1772, November 3, 1772, and March 3,
1773--he sends "love to my daughter." There is also in Bigelow's edition
of his works[11] a letter in which he refers to Mrs. Foxcroft as his
daughter. The letter I have quoted above was written while Franklin was
in England as the representative of some of the colonies, and is
addressed to him at his Craven Street lodgings. Foxcroft, who was
postmaster of Philadelphia, seems to have been on friendly terms with
the rest of Franklin's family.
Mrs. Bache, whom Foxcroft mentions in the letter, was Franklin's
legitimate daughter, Sarah, who was married. The family at Burlington
was the family of the illegitimate son, William, who was the royal
governor of New Jersey. This extraordinarily mixed family of legitimates
and illegitimates seems to have maintained a certain kind of harmony.
The son William, the governor, continued the line through an
illegitimate son, William Temple Franklin, usually known as Temple
Franklin. This condition of affairs enables us to understand the odium
in which Franklin was held by many of the upper classes of Philadelphia,
even when he was well received by the best people in England and France.
In his writings we constantly find him encouraging early marriages; and
he complains of the great number of bachelors and old maids in England.
"The accounts you give me," he writes to his wife, "of the marriages of
our friends are very agreeable. I love to hear of everything that tends
to increase the number of good people." He certainly lived up to his
doctrine, and more.
"Men I find to be a sort of beings very badly constructed, as
they are generally more easily provoked than reconciled, more
disposed to do mischief to each other than to make reparation,
much more easily deceived than undeceived, and having more pride
and even pleasure in killing than in begetting one another; for
without a blush they assemble in great armies at noonday to
destroy, and when they have killed as many as they can they
exaggerate the number to augment the fancied glory; but they
creep into corners or cover themselves with the darkness of
night when they mean to beget, as being ashamed of a virtuous
action." (Bigelow's Works of Franklin, vol. vii. p. 464.)
There has always been much speculation as to who was the mother of
Franklin's son, William, the governor of New Jersey; but as the gossips
of Philadelphia were never able to solve the mystery, it is hardly
possible that the antiquarians can succeed. Theodore Parker assumed that
he must have been the son of a girl whom Franklin would have married if
her parents had consented. Her name is unknown, for Franklin merely
describes her as a relative of Mrs. Godfrey, who tried to make the
match. Parker had no evidence whatever for his supposition. He merely
thought it likely; and, as a Christian minister, it would perhaps have
been more to his credit if he had abstained from attacking in this way
the reputation of even an unnamed young woman. An English clergyman,
Rev. Bennet Allen, writing in the London _Morning Post_, June 1, 1779,
when the ill feeling of the Revolution was at its height, says that
William's mother was an oyster wench, whom Franklin left to die of
disease and hunger in the streets. The gossips, indeed, seem to have
always agreed that the woman must have been of very humble origin.
The nearest approach to a discovery has, however, been made by Mr. Paul
Leicester Ford, in his essay entitled "Who was the Mother of Franklin's
Son?" He found an old pamphlet written during Franklin's very heated
controversy with the proprietary party in Pennsylvania when the attempt
was made to abolish the proprietorship of the Penn family and make the
colony a royal province. The pamphlet, entitled "What is Sauce for a
Goose is also Sauce for a Gander," after some general abuse of Franklin,
says that the mother of his son was a woman named Barbara, who worked in
his house as a servant for ten pounds a year; that he kept her in that
position until her death, when he stole her to the grave in silence
without a pall, tomb, or monument. This is, of course, a partisan
statement only, and reiterates what was probably the current gossip of
the time among Franklin's political opponents.
There have also been speculations in Philadelphia as to who was the
mother of Franklin's daughter, the wife of John Foxcroft; but they are
mere guesses unsupported by evidence.
From what Franklin has told us of the advice given him when a young man
by a Quaker friend, he was at that time exceedingly proud, and also
occasionally overbearing and insolent, and this is confirmed by various
passages in his early life. But in after-years he seems to have
completely conquered these faults. He complains, however, that he never
could acquire the virtue of order in his business, having a place for
everything and everything in its place. This failing seems to have
followed him to the end of his life, and was one of the serious
complaints made against him when he was ambassador to France.
But he believed himself immensely benefited by his moral code and his
method of drilling himself in it.
"It may be well my posterity should be informed that to this
little artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor owed
the constant felicity of his life, down to his 79th year in
which this is written.... To Temperance he ascribes his long
continued health, and what is still left to him of a good
constitution; to Industry and Frugality, the early easiness of
his circumstances and acquisition of his fortune, with all that
knowledge that enabled him to be a useful citizen, and obtained
for him some degree of reputation among the learned; to
Sincerity and Justice, the confidence of his country, and the
honorable employs it conferred upon him; and to the joint
influence of the whole mass of the virtues, even in the
imperfect state he was able to acquire then, all that evenness
of temper and that cheerfulness in conversation, which makes his
company still sought for and agreeable even to his younger
acquaintances."
[Illustration: WILLIAM FRANKLIN, ROYAL GOVERNOR OF NEW JERSEY]
At the same time that he was trying to put into practice his moral code,
he conceived the idea of writing a book called "The Art of Virtue," in
which he was to make comments on all the virtues, and show how each
could be acquired. Most treatises of this sort, he had observed, were
mere exhortations to be good; but "The Art of Virtue" would point out
the means. He collected notes and hints for this volume during many
years, intending that it should be the most important work of his life;
"a great and extensive project," he calls it, into which he would throw
the whole force of his being, and he expected great results from it. He
looked forward to the time when he could drop everything else and devote
himself to this mighty project, and he received grandiloquent letters of
encouragement from eminent men. His vast experience of life would have
made it a fascinating volume, and it is to be regretted that public
employments continually called him to other tasks.
A young man such as he was is not infrequently able to improve his
morals more effectually by marrying than by writing liturgies and codes.
He decided to marry about two years after he had begun to discipline
himself in his creed and moral precepts. The step seems to have been
first suggested to him by Mrs. Godfrey, to whom, with her husband, he
rented part of his house and shop. She had a relative who, she thought,
would make a good match for him, and she took opportunities of bringing
them often together. The girl was deserving, and Franklin began to court
her. But he has described the affair so well himself that it would be
useless to try to abbreviate it.
"The old folks encouraged me by continual invitations to supper,
and by leaving us together, till at length it was time to
explain. Mrs. Godfrey managed our little treaty. I let her know
that I expected as much money with their daughter as would pay
off my remaining debt for the printing-house, which I believe
was not then above a hundred pounds. She brought me word they
had no such sum to spare; I said they might mortgage their house
in the loan office. The answer to this, after some days, was,
that they did not approve the match; that, on inquiry of
Bradford, they had been informed the printing business was not a
profitable one; the types would soon be worn out, and more
wanted; that S. Keimer and D. Harry had failed one after the
other, and I should probably soon follow them; and, therefore, I
was forbidden the house and the daughter shut up."
This the young printer thought was a mere artifice, the parents thinking
that the pair were too fond of each other to separate, and that they
would steal a marriage, in which event the parents could give or
withhold what they pleased. He resented this attempt to force his hand,
dropped the whole matter, and as a consequence quarrelled with Mrs.
Godfrey, who with her husband and children left his house.
The passage which follows in Franklin's Autobiography implies that his
utter inability at this period to restrain his passions directed his
thoughts more seriously than ever to marriage, and he was determined to
have a wife. It may be well here to comment again on his remarkable
frankness. There have been distinguished men, like Rousseau, who were at
times morbidly frank. Their frankness, however, usually took the form of
a confession which did not add to their dignity. But Franklin never
confessed anything; he told it. His dignity was as natural and as
instinctive as Washington's, though of a different kind. His supreme
intellect easily avoided all positions in which he would have to confess
or make admissions; and, as there was nothing morbid in his character,
so there was nothing morbid in his frankness.
The frankness seems to have been closely connected with his serenity and
courage. There never was a man so little disturbed by consequences or
possibilities. He was quick to take advantage of popular whims, and he
would not expose himself unnecessarily to public censure. His letter to
President Stiles, of Yale, is an example. Being asked for his religious
opinion, he states it fully and without reserve, although knowing that
it would be extremely distasteful to the man to whom it was addressed,
and, if made public, would bring upon him the enmity of the most
respectable people in the country, whose good opinion every one wishes
to secure. The only precaution he takes is to ask the president not to
publish what he says, and he gives his reasons as frankly as he gives
the religious opinion. But if the letter had been published before his
death, he would have lost neither sleep nor appetite, and doubtless, by
some jest or appeal to human sympathy, would have turned it to good
account.
Since his time there have been self-made men in this country who have
advanced themselves by professing fulsome devotion to the most popular
forms of religion, and they have found this method very useful in their
designs on financial institutions or public office. We would prefer them
to take Franklin for their model; and they may have all his failings if
they will only be half as honest.
But to return to his designs for a wife, which were by no means
romantic. Miss Read, for whom he had a partiality, had married one
Rogers during Franklin's absence in London. Rogers ill treated and
deserted her, and, dejected and melancholy, she was now living at home
with her mother. She and Franklin had been inclined to marry before he
went to London, but her mother prevented it. According to his account,
she had been in love with him; but, although he liked her, we do not
understand that he was in love. He never seems to have been in love with
any woman in the sense of a romantic or exalted affection, although he
flirted with many, both young and old, almost to the close of his life.
But now, on renewing his attentions, he found that her mother had no
objections. There was, however, one serious difficulty, for Mr. Rogers,
although he had deserted her, was not known to be dead, and divorces
were but little thought of at that time. Franklin naturally did not want
to add bigamy to his other youthful offences, and it would also have
required a revision of his liturgy and code. Rogers had, moreover, left
debts which Franklin feared he might be expected to pay, and he had had
enough of that sort of thing. "We ventured, however," he says, "over all
these difficulties, and I took her to wife September 1, 1730." None of
the inconveniences happened, for neither Rogers nor his debts ever
turned up.
[Illustration: WILLIAM TEMPLE FRANKLIN]