_Forgive us our Sins, for we also forgive every one that is indebted
to us._ Luke.
THE LEVÉE
[1779?]
In the first chapter of Job we have an account of a transaction said to
have arisen in the court, or at the _levée_, of the best of all possible
princes, or of governments by a single person, viz. that of God himself.
At this _levée_, in which the sons of God were assembled, Satan also
appeared.
It is probable the writer of that ancient book took his idea of this
_levée_ from those of the eastern monarchs of the age he lived in.
It is to this day usual at the _levées_ of princes, to have persons
assembled who are enemies to each other, who seek to obtain favor by
whispering calumny and detraction, and thereby ruining those that
distinguish themselves by their virtue and merit. And kings frequently
ask a familiar question or two, of every one in the circle, merely to
show their benignity. These circumstances are particularly exemplified
in this relation.
If a modern king, for instance, finds a person in the circle who has not
lately been there, he naturally asks him how he has passed his time
since he last had the pleasure of seeing him? the gentleman perhaps
replies that he has been in the country to view his estates, and visit
some friends. Thus Satan being asked whence he cometh? answers, "From
going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it." And being
further asked, whether he had considered the uprightness and fidelity of
the prince's servant Job, he immediately displays all the malignance of
the designing courtier, by answering with another question: "Doth Job
serve God for naught? Hast thou not given him immense wealth, and
protected him in the possession of it? Deprive him of that, and he will
curse thee to thy face." In modern phrase, Take away his places and his
pensions, and your Majesty will soon find him in the opposition.
This whisper against Job had its effect. He was delivered into the power
of his adversary, who deprived him of his fortune, destroyed his family,
and completely ruined him.
The book of Job is called by divines a sacred poem, and, with the rest
of the Holy Scriptures, is understood to be written for our instruction.
What then is the instruction to be gathered from this supposed
transaction?
Trust not a single person with the government of your state. For if the
Deity himself, being the monarch may for a time give way to calumny, and
suffer it to operate the destruction of the best of subjects; what
mischief may you not expect from such power in a mere man, though the
best of men, from whom the truth is often industriously hidden, and to
whom falsehood is often presented in its place, by artful, interested,
and malicious courtiers?
And be cautious in trusting him even with limited powers, lest sooner or
later he sap and destroy those limits, and render himself absolute.
For by the disposal of places, he attaches to himself all the
placeholders, with their numerous connexions, and also all the expecters
and hopers of places, which will form a strong party in promoting his
views. By various political engagements for the interest of neighbouring
states or princes, he procures their aid in establishing his own
personal power. So that, through the hopes of emolument in one part of
his subjects, and the fear of his resentment in the other, all
opposition falls before him.
PROPOSED NEW VERSION OF THE BIBLE[101]
[1779?]
TO THE PRINTER OF***
SIR,
It is now more than one hundred and seventy years since the translation
of our common English Bible. The language in that time is much changed,
and the style, being obsolete, and thence less agreeable, is perhaps one
reason why the reading of that excellent book is of late so much
neglected. I have therefore thought it would be well to procure a new
version, in which, preserving the sense, the turn of phrase and manner
of expression should be modern. I do not pretend to have the necessary
abilities for such a work myself; I throw out the hint for the
consideration of the learned; and only venture to send you a few verses
of the first chapter of Job, which may serve as a sample of the kind of
version I would recommend.
A. B.
PART OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF JOB MODERNIZED
OLD TEXT
NEW VERSION
Verse 6. Now there was a
day when the sons of God
came to present themselves before
the Lord, and Satan came
also amongst them.
Verse 6. And it being _levée_
day in heaven, all God's nobility
came to court, to present
themselves before him;
and Satan also appeared in the
circle, as one of the ministry.
7. And the Lord said unto
Satan, Whence comest thou?
Then Satan answered the Lord,
and said, From going to and
fro in the earth, and from
walking up and down in it.
7. And God said to Satan,
You have been some time absent;
where were you? And
Satan answered[,] I have been
at my country-seat, and in
different places visiting my
friends.
8. And the Lord said unto
Satan, Hast thou considered
my servant Job, that there is
none like him in the earth, a
perfect and an upright man,
one that feareth God, and
escheweth evil?
8. And God said, Well,
what think you of Lord Job?
You see he is my best friend,
a perfectly honest man, full
of respect for me, and avoiding
every thing that might offend
me.
9. Then Satan answered the
Lord, and said, Doth Job fear
God for naught?
9. And Satan answered,
Does your Majesty imagine
that his good conduct is the
effect of mere personal attachment
and affection?
10. Hast thou not made an
hedge about his house, and
about all that he hath on every
side? Thou hast blessed the
work of his hands, and his
substance is increased in the
land.
10. Have you not protected
him, and heaped your benefits
upon him, till he is grown
enormously rich?
11. But put forth thine
hand now, and touch all that
he hath, and he will curse thee
to thy face.
11. Try him;--only withdraw
your favor, turn him out
of his places, and withhold his
pensions, and you will soon
find him in the opposition.
TO JOSEPH PRIESTLEY
Passy, Feb. 8, 1780.
Dear Sir,
Your kind Letter of September 27 came to hand but very lately, the
Bearer having staied long in Holland. I always rejoice to hear of your
being still employ'd in experimental Researches into Nature, and of the
Success you meet with. The rapid Progress _true_ Science now makes,
occasions my regretting sometimes that I was born so soon. It is
impossible to imagine the Height to which may be carried, in a thousand
years, the Power of Man over Matter. We may perhaps learn to deprive
large Masses of their Gravity, and give them absolute Levity, for the
sake of easy Transport. Agriculture may diminish its Labour and double
its Produce; all Diseases may by sure means be prevented or cured, not
excepting even that of Old Age, and our Lives lengthened at pleasure
even beyond the antediluvian Standard. O that moral Science were in as
fair a way of Improvement, that Men would cease to be Wolves to one
another, and that human Beings would at length learn what they now
improperly call Humanity![102]
I am glad my little Paper on the _Aurora Borealis_ pleased. If it should
occasion further Enquiry, and so produce a better Hypothesis, it will
not be wholly useless. I am ever, with the greatest and most sincere
Esteem, dear Sir, yours very affectionately
B. FRANKLIN.
TO GEORGE WASHINGTON
Passy, March 5, 1780.
SIR,
I have received but lately the Letter your Excellency did me the honour
of writing to me in Recommendation of the Marquis de la Fayette. His
modesty detained it long in his own Hands. We became acquainted,
however, from the time of his Arrival at Paris; and his Zeal for the
Honour of our Country, his Activity in our Affairs here, and his firm
Attachment to our Cause and to you, impress'd me with the same Regard
and Esteem for him that your Excellency's Letter would have done, had it
been immediately delivered to me.
Should peace arrive after another Campaign or two, and afford us a
little Leisure, I should be happy to see your Excellency in Europe, and
to accompany you, if my Age and Strength would permit, in visiting some
of its ancient and most famous Kingdoms. You would, on this side of the
Sea, enjoy the great Reputation you have acquir'd, pure and free from
those little Shades that the Jealousy and Envy of a Man's Countrymen and
Cotemporaries are ever endeavouring to cast over living Merit. Here you
would know, and enjoy, what Posterity will say of Washington. For 1000
Leagues have nearly the same Effect with 1000 Years. The feeble Voice of
those grovelling Passions cannot extend so far either in Time or
Distance. At present I enjoy that Pleasure for you, as I frequently hear
the old Generals of this martial Country, (who study the Maps of
America, and mark upon them all your Operations,) speak with sincere
Approbation and great Applause of your conduct; and join in giving you
the Character of one of the greatest Captains of the Age.
I must soon quit the Scene, but you may live to see our Country nourish,
as it will amazingly and rapidly after the War is over. Like a Field of
young Indian Corn, which long Fair weather and Sunshine had enfeebled
and discolored, and which in that weak State, by a Thunder Gust, of
violent Wind, Hail, and Rain, seem'd to be threaten'd with absolute
Destruction; yet the Storm being past, it recovers fresh Verdure, shoots
up with double Vigour, and delights the Eye, not of its Owner only, but
of every observing Traveller.[103]
The best Wishes that can be form'd for your Health, Honour, and
Happiness, ever attend you from your Excellency's most obedient and most
humble servant
B. F.
TO MISS GEORGIANA SHIPLEY
Passy, Oct. 8, 1780.
It is long, very long, my dear Friend, since I had the great Pleasure of
hearing from you, and receiving any of your very pleasing Letters. But
it is my fault. I have long omitted my Part of the Correspondence. Those
who love to receive Letters should write Letters. I wish I could safely
promise an Amendment of that Fault. But, besides the Indolence attending
Age, and growing upon us with it, my Time is engross'd by too much
Business; and I have too many Inducements to postpone doing, what I feel
I ought to do for my own Sake, and what I can never resolve to omit
entirely.
Your Translations from Horace, as far as I can judge of Poetry and
Translations, are very good. That of the _Quò, quò ruitis?_ is so
suitable to the Times, that the Conclusion, (in your Version,) seems to
threaten like a Prophecy; and methinks there is at least some Appearance
of Danger that it may be fulfilled. I am unhappily an Enemy, yet I think
there has been enough of Blood spilt, and I wish what is left in the
Veins of that once lov'd People, may be spared by a Peace solid and
everlasting.
It is a great while since I have heard any thing of the _good Bishop_.
Strange, that so simple a Character should sufficiently distinguish one
of that sacred Body! _Donnez-moi de ses Nouvelles._ I have been some
time flatter'd with the Expectation of seeing the Countenance of that
most honoured and ever beloved Friend, delineated by your Pencil. The
Portrait is said to have been long on the way, but is not yet arriv'd;
nor can I hear where it is.
Indolent as I have confess'd myself to be, I could not, you see, miss
this good and safe Opportunity of sending you a few Lines, with my best
Wishes for your Happiness, and that of the whole dear and amiable Family
in whose sweet Society I have spent so many happy Hours. Mr. Jones[104]
tells me, he shall have a Pleasure in being the Bearer of my Letter, of
which I make no doubt. I learn from him, that to your Drawing, and
Music, and Painting, and Poetry, and Latin, you have added a Proficiency
in Chess, so that you are, as the French say, _tout plein de talens_.
May they and you fall to the Lot of one, that shall duly value them, and
love you as much as I do. Adieu.
B. F[RANKLIN].
TO RICHARD PRICE
Passy, Oct. 9, 1780.
DEAR SIR,
Besides the Pleasure of their Company, I had the great Satisfaction of
hearing by your two valuable Friends, and learning from your Letter,
that you enjoy a good State of Health. May God continue it, as well for
the Good of Mankind as for your Comfort. I thank you much for the second
Edition of your excellent Pamphlet.[105] I forwarded that you sent to
Mr. Dana, he being in Holland. I wish also to see the Piece you have
written (as Mr. Jones tells me) on Toleration. I do not expect that your
new Parliament will be either wiser or honester than the last. All
Projects to procure an honest one, by Place Bills, &c., appear to me
vain and Impracticable. The true Cure, I imagine, is to be found only
in rendring all Places unprofitable, and the King too poor to give
Bribes and Pensions. Till this is done, which can only be by a
Revolution (and I think you have not Virtue enough left to procure one),
your Nation will always be plundered, and obliged to pay by Taxes the
Plunderers for Plundering and Ruining. Liberty and Virtue therefore join
in the call, COME OUT OF HER, MY PEOPLE!
I am fully of your Opinion respecting religious Tests; but, tho' the
People of Massachusetts have not in their new Constitution kept quite
clear of them, yet, if we consider what that People were 100 Years ago,
we must allow they have gone great Lengths in Liberality of Sentiment on
religious Subjects; and we may hope for greater Degrees of Perfection,
when their Constitution, some years hence, shall be revised. If
Christian Preachers had continued to teach as Christ and his Apostles
did, without Salaries, and as the Quakers now do, I imagine Tests would
never have existed; for I think they were invented, not so much to
secure Religion itself, as the Emoluments of it. When a Religion is
good, I conceive that it will support itself; and, when it cannot
support itself, and God does not take care to support, so that its
Professors are oblig'd to call for the help of the Civil Power, it is a
sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one. But I shall be out of my
Depth, if I wade any deeper in Theology, and I will not trouble you with
Politicks, nor with News which are almost as uncertain; but conclude
with a heartfelt Wish to embrace you once more, and enjoy your sweet
Society in Peace, among our honest, worthy, ingenious Friends at the
_London_[106] Adieu,
B. FRANKLIN.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT
Midnight, October 22, 1780.
FRANKLIN. Eh! Oh! Eh! What have I done to merit these cruel sufferings?
GOUT. Many things; you have ate and drank too freely, and too much
indulged those legs of yours in their indolence.
FRANKLIN. Who is it that accuses me?
GOUT. It is I, even I, the Gout.
FRANKLIN. What! my enemy in person?
GOUT. No, not your enemy.
FRANKLIN. I repeat it; my enemy; for you would not only torment my body
to death, but ruin my good name; you reproach me as a glutton and a
tippler; now all the world, that knows me, will allow that I am neither
the one nor the other.
GOUT. The world may think as it pleases; it is always very complaisant
to itself, and sometimes to its friends; but I very well know that the
quantity of meat and drink proper for a man, who takes a reasonable
degree of exercise, would be too much for another, who never takes any.
FRANKLIN. I take--Eh! Oh!--as much exercise--Eh!--as I can, Madam Gout.
You know my sedentary state, and on that account, it would seem, Madam
Gout, as if you might spare me a little, seeing it is not altogether my
own fault.
GOUT. Not a jot; your rhetoric and your politeness are thrown away; your
apology avails nothing. If your situation in life is a sedentary one,
your amusements, your recreations, at least, should be active. You ought
to walk or ride; or, if the weather prevents that play at billiards. But
let us examine your course of life. While the mornings are long, and you
have leisure to go abroad, what do you do? Why, instead of gaining an
appetite for breakfast, by salutary exercise, you amuse yourself, with
books, pamphlets, or newspapers, which commonly are not worth the
reading. Yet you eat an inordinate breakfast, four dishes of tea, with
cream, and one or two buttered toasts, with slices of hung beef, which I
fancy are not things the most easily digested. Immediately afterward you
sit down to write at your desk, or converse with persons who apply to
you on business. Thus the time passes till one, without any kind of
bodily exercise. But all this I could pardon, in regard, as you say, to
your sedentary condition. But what is your practice after dinner?
Walking in the beautiful gardens of those friends, with whom you have
dined, would be the choice of men of sense; yours is to be fixed down to
chess, where you are found engaged for two or three hours! This is your
perpetual recreation, which is the least eligible of any for a sedentary
man, because, instead of accelerating the motion of the fluids, the
rigid attention it requires helps to retard the circulation and obstruct
internal secretions. Wrapt in the speculations of this wretched game,
you destroy your constitution. What can be expected from such a course
of living, but a body replete with stagnant humours, ready to fall a
prey to all kinds of dangerous maladies, if I, the Gout, did not
occasionally bring you relief by agitating those humours, and so
purifying or dissipating them? If it was in some nook or alley in Paris,
deprived of walks, that you played awhile at chess after dinner, this
might be excusable; but the same taste prevails with you in Passy,
Auteuil, Montmartre, or Sanoy, places where there are the finest gardens
and walks, a pure air, beautiful women, and most agreeable and
instructive conversation; all which you might enjoy by frequenting the
walks. But these are rejected for this abominable game of chess. Fie,
then Mr. Franklin! But amidst my instructions, I had almost forgot to
administer my wholesome corrections; so take that twinge,--and that.
FRANKLIN. Oh! Eh! Oh! Ohhh! As much instruction as you please, Madam
Gout, and as many reproaches; but pray, Madam, a truce with your
corrections!
GOUT. No, Sir, no,--I will not abate a particle of what is so much for
your good,--therefore--
FRANKLIN. Oh! Ehhh!--It is not fair to say I take no exercise, when I do
very often, going out to dine and returning in my carriage.
GOUT. That, of all imaginable exercises, is the most slight and
insignificant, if you allude to the motion of a carriage suspended on
springs. By observing the degree of heat obtained by different kinds of
motion, we may form an estimate of the quantity of exercise given by
each. Thus, for example, if you turn out to walk in winter with cold
feet, in an hour's time you will be in a glow all over; ride on
horseback, the same effect will scarcely be perceived by four hours'
round trotting; but if you loll in a carriage, such as you have
mentioned, you may travel all day, and gladly enter the last inn to
warm your feet by a fire. Flatter yourself then no longer, that half an
hour's airing in your carriage deserves the name of exercise. Providence
has appointed few to roll in carriages, while he has given to all a pair
of legs, which are machines infinitely more commodious and serviceable.
Be grateful, then, and make a proper use of yours. Would you know how
they forward the circulation of your fluids, in the very action of
transporting you from place to place; observe when you walk, that all
your weight is alternately thrown from one leg to the other; this
occasions a great pressure on the vessels of the foot, and repels their
contents; when relieved, by the weight being thrown on the other foot,
the vessels of the first are allowed to replenish, and, by a return of
this weight, this repulsion again succeeds; thus accelerating the
circulation of the blood. The heat produced in any given time, depends
on the degree of this acceleration; the fluids are shaken, the humours
attenuated, the secretions facilitated, and all goes well; the cheeks
are ruddy, and health is established. Behold your fair friend at
Auteuil;[107] a lady who received from bounteous nature more really
useful science, than half a dozen such pretenders to philosophy as you
have been able to extract from all your books. When she honours you with
a visit, it is on foot. She walks all hours of the day, and leaves
indolence, and its concomitant maladies, to be endured by her horses. In
this see at once the preservative of her health and personal charms. But
when you go to Auteuil, you must have your carriage, though it is no
further from Passy to Auteuil than from Auteuil to Passy.
FRANKLIN. Your reasonings grow very tiresome.
GOUT. I stand corrected. I will be silent and continue my office; take
that, and that.
FRANKLIN. Oh! Ohh! Talk on, I pray you!
GOUT. No, no; I have a good number of twinges for you to-night, and you
may be sure of some more to-morrow.
FRANKLIN. What, with such a fever! I shall go distracted. Oh! Eh! Can no
one bear it for me?
GOUT. Ask that of your horses; they have served you faithfully.
FRANKLIN. How can you so cruelly sport with my torments?
GOUT. Sport! I am very serious. I have here a list of offences against
your own health distinctly written, and can justify every stroke
inflicted on you.
FRANKLIN. Read it then.
GOUT. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly mention some
particulars.
FRANKLIN. Proceed. I am all attention.
GOUT. Do you remember how often you have promised yourself, the
following morning, a walk in the grove of Boulogne, in the garden de la
Muette, or in your own garden, and have violated your promise, alleging,
at one time, it was too cold, at another too warm, too windy, too moist,
or what else you pleased; when in truth it was too nothing, but your
insuperable love of ease?
FRANKLIN. That I confess may have happened occasionally, probably ten
times in a year.
GOUT. Your confession is very far short of the truth; the gross amount
is one hundred and ninety-nine times.
FRANKLIN. Is it possible?
GOUT. So possible, that it is fact; you may rely on the accuracy of my
statement. You know M. Brillon's gardens, and what fine walks they
contain; you know the handsome flight of an hundred steps, which lead
from the terrace above to the lawn below. You have been in the practice
of visiting this amiable family twice a week, after dinner, and it is a
maxim of your own, that "a man may take as much exercise in walking a
mile, up and down stairs, as in ten on level ground." What an
opportunity was here for you to have had exercise in both these ways!
Did you embrace it, and how often?
FRANKLIN. I cannot immediately answer that question.
GOUT. I will do it for you; not once.
FRANKLIN. Not once?
GOUT. Even so. During the summer you went there at six o'clock. You
found the charming lady, with her lovely children and friends, eager to
walk with you, and entertain you with their agreeable conversation; and
what has been your choice? Why to sit on the terrace, satisfying
yourself with the fine prospect, and passing your eye over the beauties
of the garden below, without taking one step to descend and walk about
in them. On the contrary, you call for tea and the chess-board; and lo!
you are occupied in your seat till nine o'clock, and that besides two
hours' play after dinner; and then, instead of walking home, which would
have bestirred you a little, you step into your carriage. How absurd to
suppose that all this carelessness can be reconcilable with health,
without my interposition!
FRANKLIN. I am convinced now of the justness of poor Richard's remark,
that "Our debts and our sins are always greater than we think for."
GOUT. So it is. You philosophers are sages in your maxims, and fools in
your conduct.
FRANKLIN. But do you charge among my crimes, that I return in a carriage
from Mr. Brillon's?
GOUT. Certainly; for, having been seated all the while, you cannot
object the fatigue of the day, and cannot want therefore the relief of a
carriage.
FRANKLIN. What then would you have me do with my carriage?