278
The I iterature of Reason and Revolution
Benjamin Franklin I 7o6-I 790
Benjamin Franklin is f¿xed in the American mind in a series of images: as the runaway apprentice mun(:hin~ a roll while walking the streets
of Philadelphia; as "Poor Richard" or "Father Abraharn" pr-eaching ¿he virtues of thrift, prudence, and a reasonable degree of chastity, as
the scientiflc wiza7d who flew a kite in a thunderstorm and "snatched the lightningfrom the sky" as the rustic ambassador to Europe who
spoke out against Britlsh imperialism and beguiied France into joining the American War for Independence. He is the model of the self-made
man, a culture-hero whose life exemplifies the Amer~can dream of the poor boy who makes ~ood.
He was born in Boston, the flfteenth child of a poor candlemaker. As a youth, he was apprenticed to his brother, a Bo.cton printer. At
tuJel7~e, Franklin publi~hed his first works, two ballads on the drou~ni1l~ of a lighthouse keeper and on the capture of Blackbeard the
pirate. By the time he 7l~as sixteen he was writing for his brother's newspaper, using the pen name "Silence l)ogood" to m-zke satirical
comments on Boston society, politics, and religion.
When Franklin was se7~e~teen he ran off to Philadelphia, where he became a thriving printer. In I732, under the name "Richard Saunders,"
he began publlshing Poor Richard's Almanack, a calendar filled with ad7~ertisements, weather foreca.sts, recipes, jokes, and a swarm of
proverbs that entered the American mind and stuck: "A roll~ng stone gathers no moss." "Honesty i~ the best policy." "A Penny saved is a
penny earned." The Almanack became one of the most inJiuential puhlications in American history, a delight to generations of readers
gratified by preachments on the virtues of hard work, thrift, and success.
When Franklin was fo7-ty-two, wealthy, and famous, he retired from bus2ness to devote himself to science aná public se1vice. He helped
organize the American Philosophical Society, the University of ·'enn.syl7Jlmia, and thefirst charity hospltal In the (,olonles. H/~ studied the
(~Julf Stream, fossils, and earthquakes; invented bifocal spectacles and the lightning rod (long c(llled the "Franklin Rod"); and made
fundamental discoveries about the character of electricity.
Between I 75 7 and I 7 7 5 he represented the Colonies in l~ngland, where h7~s propagandizing roused an angry British go7Jernment to
brand him the "inventor and first planner" of colonial discord. on the eve of the Revolution, he returned to Philadelphia. There he was named
a delegate to the Second Continental Congress and a member of the committee chosen to write the Declaration of Independence. In I 776
Congress sent h~m once agaln to Europe, as Minister to France, to seek aid for the faltering Revolution. At the French court the
seventy-year-old Franklin purposely played the role of a noble r1lstic. He dressed in plain clothes, wore a frontiersman's fur cap instead of a
powdered wig, and he carried a formidable staff of apple wood. Dressed as the virtuous New World man he confirmed romantic European
notions of natural American goodness, on impression he dellberately fostered to dramatize the n~ltu7al justice of the American cause.
In Paris he negotiated the treaty of alliance of I778 that joined France with America in the war against E72gland. Five years later he
signed the peace treaty that confirmed the American victory in the Revolution and established the natlon's independence. When he returned
to America for the last time, he was named a delegate to the Constitutional (;on7~ention i71 Philadelphia, and there he spent the la~st
energ~es of his llfe, working to reconcile confiicts betuJeen states and to gain ratification of the Constltution.
As a homespun sage, as a statesman, and as a pamphleteer in the cause of 11berty, Franklin shaped the characte7 of the nation. He was
the only American to sign the four documents that created the republic: the Declaration of Independence, the treaty of alllance
FRANKI IN
2
79 with France, the treaty of peace with England, and the Constitution. At the time of his death, his countrymen considered him, more than
Washington, to be the father of his country.
Franklin was a primary fìgure in the rise of American pragmatism. He helped create the cult of self-rellance that ripened into the wonders
of Emersonian transcendentali~m and into the gaudy excesses of American industrial society. His life and popular wntings became
instruments of 2nstruftion used by parents to teach wayward offspring that public virtue and pluck are keys to the kingdom of worldly
success. He came to be invoked as the patron of businessmen and bankers, of boosters and rui~ged individualists who wanted to believe that,
as Franklin had written, "God helps them that help themselves."
By the mzddle of the nineteenth century the inevitable reaction had set in Frankl was derided as the shallow philosopher of the full belly
and tight purse, the capitali~t saint. H~s detractors took the remarks of his literary characters to be Franklin's total thought 7 hey blamed
him for faults they found in his ethical heirs and in the excesses an cap~ al~sm. Crztics mistook his subtletIes and ironies for simple-minded
pieties. They scoffed at h2m as the originator of simplistic ra~s-to-riches tales, such as the Horatio Alger success stories the world found so
peculiarlj American. By the last o/ the n2neteenth century h~s place in the pantheon of American heroes had been taken by Washington and
Lincoln.
But to the Age of Enlightenment, Franklin zuas the nation's "greatest man and ornament. European~ thought he was greater than Voltaire,
wiser than Rousseau. More than any other patriot, he had created the American republic. He was a ma~ter of the periodical essay, of satire,
and of political journalism. He helped establish a tradition in Ameri
writing of the simple, utilitarian style, and with his Autobiography he set the form for auto~iography as a genre. Franklin was the greatest
literary artist of eighteenth-century America. He created America's first great book. And he remains today the most widely read an infíuential
of all American writers.
= ~Franh in,
n i b~b~, Tnumph n Paris, the Fxploits D~ BeaJanin FMnhlinr I 76
k
Ben1amtn Franklin, 1983, E Wright, Franklin of Philadelphia ìg86; B Barbo7ur Benjamin
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The Literature of Reason and Revolution
tices before) was diligently transcribing some eloquent Paragraphs out of Tillotson's Works 6 &c to embellish his own.
Now I bethough; my self in my Sleep, that it was Time to be at Home, and as I fancy'd I was travelling back thither, I reflected
in my Mind on the extream Folly of those Parents, who, blind to their Childrens Dulness, and insensible of the Solidity of their
Skulls, because they think their Purses can afford it, will needs send them to the Temple of Learning, where, for want of a
suitable Genius, they learn little more than how to carry themselves handsomely, and enter a Room genteely, (which might as
well be acquir'd at a Dancing-School,) and from whence they return, after Abundance of Trouble and Charge, as great
Blockheads as ever, only more proud and self-conceited.
While I was in the midst of these unpleasant Reflections, Clericus (who with a Book in his Hand was walking under the Trees)
accidentally awak'd me; to him I related my Dream with all its Particulars, and he, without much Study, presently interpreted it,
assuring me, That it was a lively Representation of HARVARI) COLLEGE, Etcetera. I remain Sir, Your Humble Servant,
OLD MISTRESSES APOLOGUE
SILENCE Do(~)()l)
1 72 2
June 25, 1745
My dear Friend 2
I know of no Medicine fit to diminish the violent natural Inclinations you mention; and if I did, I think I should not
communicate it to you. Marriage is the proper Remedy. It is the most natural State of Man, and therefore the St~te in which yoU
are most likely to find solid Happiness. Your Reasons again~t entring into it at present, appear to me not well-founded. The
circumstanti¿~l Advantages you have in View by postponing it, are not only uncertain, but they are small in comparison with that
of the Thing itself, the being married and settle(l. It is the Man and Woman united that make the compleat human Being.
Separate, she wants his Force of Body and Strength of Reason; he, her Softness, Sensihility and acute Discernment. Together
they are more likely to succeed in the Worl~ì. A single Man has not nearly the Value he would have in that State of Uniol1. He is
an incomplete Animal. He resembles the odd Half of a Pair of Scissars. If you get a prudent healthy Wife, your Industry in your
Profession, with her good OEconomy, will be a Fortune sufficient.
But if you will not take this Counsel, and persist in thinking a Commerce with the Sex inevitable, then I repeat my former
Advice, that in all your Amours y~
should prefer old Women to young ones. You call this a Paradox, and demand my Reasons. They are these:
1. Because as they have more Knowledge of the World and their Minds are
6John Tillotson (1630-1694), an English theologian whose moderate doctrines were oppose-l by conservative Puritans.
IJudged "too indecent to print," this essay in the form of a letter was unknown to the generdl public until well into the twentieth century. No
nineteenth-century editor or biographer of Franklln dared to publish it although private printirlgs, usually entitled ~'Advice to a Youllg Man on the (~hoice of
a Mistress," brought the essay a wide underground popularity as "the wittiest essay" Franklin ever wrote.
2The addressee is unknown, and it is likely that Franklin had llo specific one in mind.
FRANKl.lN / Poor Richard Improved, 1758
2
~. better stor'd with Observations, their Conversation is more improving and more asting y agreable.
2. Because when Women cease to be handsome, they study to be good. To maintain
their Influence over Men, they supply the Diminution of Beauty by an Augmentation of
Utility. They learn to do a looo Services small and great an are the most tender and
useful of all Friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is
hardly such a thing to be found as an old Woman who iS not a good Woman.
3. Because there is no hazard of Children, which irregularly produc'd may be attended with much Inconvenience.
4. Because thro' more Experience, they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an Intrigue to prevent Suspicion. The
Commerce with them is t ere ore safer with regard to your Reputation. And with regard to theirs, if the Affair should happen to be
known, considerate People might be rather inclin d to excuse an old Woman who would kindly take care of a young Man form his
Manners by her good Counsels, and prevent his ruining his Health and Fortune among mercenary Prostitutes.
. Because in every Animal that walks upright, the Deficiency of the Fluids ~hat fill the Muscles appears first in the highest
Part: The Face first grows lank ~and wrinkled; then the Neck; then the Breast and Arms; the lower Parts con~inuing to the last as
plump as ever: So that covering all above with a Basket and regardlng only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two
Women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all Cats are grey, the Pleasure o~ (orporal EnJoyment with an ()1d
Woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every Knack being by Practice capable of Improvement.
t) Because the Sin is less. The debauching a Virgin may be her Ruin, and ma e er or Life unhappy.
7. Because the Compunction is less. The having made a young Girl miserable may ~ive you frequent bitter Reflections; none of
which can attend the making an old Woman happy.
8[thly and Lastly] They are so grateful!!
Thus much for my Paradox. But still I advise you to marry directly, being sincerely Your affectionate Friend.
fromPOORRICHARDIMPROVED, I7581
Courteous Reader
I have heard that nothing gives an Author so great Pleasure, as to find his s respectfully quoted by other learned Authors. This
Pleasure I have
om enJoyed; for tho' I have been, if I may say it without Vanity, an eminent ut or of Almanacks annually now a full Quarter of
a Century, my Brother uthors in the same Way, for what Reason I know not, have ever been very