SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.
VOL. II. RICHMOND, APRIL, 1836. NO. V.
T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
MSS. OF BENJ. FRANKLIN.1
1 It is with great pleasure that we are enabled, through the kindness of a friend in Philadelphia, to lay before our readers an Essay, never yet published, from the pen of Benjamin Franklin. It is copied from the original MS. of Franklin himself, and is not to be found in any edition of his works. The Letters which succeed the Essay are also copied from the original MS., but were first published in the Doctor's Weekly Pennsylvania Gazette, which was commenced in 1727. The Epistle from Anthony Afterwit appeared in No. 189—that from Celia Single in No. 191. Although these Letters are to be found in the file of the Gazette at the Franklin Library in Philadelphia, still they are not in either the 1809 or the 1835 edition of the writer's works. We therefore make no apology for publishing them in the Messenger.
A LECTURE
On the Providence of God in the Government of the World.
When I consider my own weakness and the discerning judgment of those who are to be my audience, I cannot help blaming myself considerably for this rash undertaking of mine, being a thing I am altogether unpracticed in and very much unqualified for; but 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 commonly 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 or divinely assisted, and therefore will think yourselves at liberty to assert or dissert, approve or disapprove of any thing I advance, canvassing and sifting it as the private opinion of one of your acquaintance. These are great disadvantages and discouragements, but I am entered and must proceed, humbly requesting your patience and attention.
I propose at this time to discourse on the subject of our last conversation, the Providence of God in the government of the world. It might be judged an affront to your understandings should I go about to prove this first principle, the existence of a Deity, and that he is the Creator of the Universe, for that would suppose you ignorant of what all mankind in all ages have agreed in. I shall therefore proceed to observe that he must be a being of infinite wisdom, as appears in his admirable order and disposition of things, whether we consider the heavenly bodies, the stars and planets and their wonderful regular motions, or this earth compounded of such an excellent mixture of all the elements; or the admirable structure of animate bodies of such infinite variety, and yet every one adapted to its nature and the way of life it is to be placed in, whether on earth, in the air, or in the water, and so exactly that the highest and most exquisite human reason cannot find a fault and say this would have been better so, or in such a manner, which whoever considers attentively and thoroughly will be astonished and swallowed up in admiration.
That the Deity is a being of great goodness, appears in his giving life to so many creatures each of which acknowledge it a benefit, by their unwillingness to leave it; in his providing plentiful sustenance for them all, and making those things that are most useful, most common and easy to be had; such as water, necessary for almost every creature to drink; air, without which few could subsist; the inexpressible benefits of light and sunshine to almost all animals in general; and to men the most useful vegetable such as corn, the most useful of metals as iron &c. the most useful animals as horses, oxen and sheep he has made easiest to raise or procure in quantity or numbers; each of which particulars, if considered seriously and carefully, would fill us with the highest love and affection.
That he is a being of infinite power appears in his being able to form and compound such vast masses of matter, as this earth and the sun and innumerable stars and planets, and give them such prodigious motion, and yet so to govern them in their greatest velocity as that they shall not fly out of their appointed bounds, nor dash one against another for their mutual destruction. But 'tis easy to conceive his power, when we are convinced of his infinite knowledge and wisdom; for if weak and foolish creatures as we are by knowing the nature of a few things can produce such wonderful effects; such as for instance, by knowing the nature only of nitre and sea salt mixed we can make a water which will dissolve the hardest iron, and by adding one ingredient more can make another water which will dissolve gold, and make the most solid bodies fluid, and by knowing the nature of saltpetre, sulphur and charcoal, those mean ingredients mixed, we can shake the air in the most terrible manner, destroy ships, houses and men at a distance, and in an instant, overthrow cities, and rend rocks into a thousand pieces, and level the highest mountains; what power must he possess who not only knows the nature of every thing in the universe, but can make things of new natures with the greatest ease and at his pleasure?
Agreeing then that the world was at first made by a being of infinite wisdom, goodness and power, which being we call God, the state of things existing at this time must be in one of these four following manners—viz.
1. Either he unchangeably decreed and appointed every thing that comes to pass, and left nothing to the course of nature, nor allowed any creature free agency.
2. Without decreeing any thing he left all to general nature and the events of free agency in his creatures which he never alters or interrupts; or,
3. He decreed some things unchangeably, and left others to general nature and the events of free agency which also he never alters or interrupts; or,
4. He sometimes interferes by his particular providence and sets aside the effects which would otherwise have been produced by any of the above causes.
I shall endeavor to show the first three suppositions to be inconsistent, with the common light of reason, and that the fourth is most agreeable to it and therefore most probably true.
In the first place. If you say he has in the beginning unchangeably decreed all things and left nothing to nature or free agency, these strange conclusions will necessarily follow, 1. That he is now no more a God. It is true indeed before he made such unchangeable decree, he was a being of power almighty; but now having determined every thing he has divested himself of all further power, he has done and has no more to do, he has tied up his hands and has now no greater power than an idol of wood or stone; nor can there be any more reason for praying to him or worshipping of him than of such an idol, for the worshippers can never be better for such worship. Then, 2. He has decreed some things contrary to the very notion of a wise and good being; such as that some of his creatures or children shall do all manner of injury to others, and bring every kind of evil upon them without cause; that some of them shall even blaspheme him their Creator, in the most horrible manner; and which is still more highly absurd, that he has decreed, that the greatest part of mankind shall in all ages put up their earnest prayers to him both in private and publicly, in great assemblies, when all the while he had so determined their fate that he could not possibly grant them any benefits on that account, nor could such prayers be in any way available. Why then should he ordain them to make such prayers? It cannot be imagined that they are of any service to him. Surely it is not more difficult to believe the world was made by a God of wood or stone, than that the God who made the world should be such a God as this.
In the second place. If you say he has decreed nothing, but left all things to general nature and the events of free agency which he never alters or interrupts, then these conclusions will follow; he must either utterly hide himself from the works of his own hands and take no notice at all of their proceedings natural or moral, or he must be, as undoubtedly he is, a spectator of every thing, for there can be no reason or ground to suppose the first. I say there can be no reason to imagine he would make so glorious a universe merely to abandon it. In this case imagine the deity looking on and beholding the ways of his creatures. Some heroes in virtue he sees are incessantly endeavoring the good of others: they labor through vast difficulties, they suffer incredible hardships and miseries to accomplish this end, in hopes to please a good God, and attain his favors which they earnestly pray for, what answer can he make then within himself but this? Take the reward chance may give you, I do not intermeddle in these affairs. He sees others continually doing all manner of evil, and bringing by their actions misery and destruction among mankind, what can he say here but this, if chance rewards you I shall not punish you, I am not to be concerned. He sees the just, the innocent, and the beneficent in the hands of the wicked and violent oppressor, and when the good are at the brink of destruction they pray to him, Thou O God art mighty and powerful to save, help us we beseech thee! He answers, I cannot help you, it is none of my business, nor do I at all regard these things. How is it possible to believe a wise and an infinitely good being can be delighted in this circumstance, and be utterly unconcerned what becomes of the beings and things he has created? for thus, we must believe him idle and inactive, and that his glorious attributes of power, wisdom, and goodness are no more to be made use of.
In the third place. If you say he has decreed some things and left others to the events of nature and free agency, which he never alters or interrupts; still you un-God him if I may be allowed the expression—he has nothing to do; he can cause us neither good nor harm; he is no more to be regarded than a lifeless image, than Dagon or Baal, or Bell and the Dragon, and as in both the other suppositions foregoing, that being which from its power is most able to act, from its wisdom knows best how to act, and from its goodness would always certainly act best, is in this opinion supposed to become the most inactive of all beings, and remain everlastingly idle: an absurdity which when considered or but barely seen, cannot be swallowed without doing the greatest violence to common reason and all the faculties of the understanding.
We are then necessarily driven to the fourth supposition, that the Deity sometimes interferes by his particular Providence, and sets aside the events which would otherwise have been produced in the course of nature or by the free agency of men, and this is perfectly agreeable with what we can know of his attributes and perfections. But as some may doubt whether it is possible there should be such a thing as free agency in creatures, I shall just offer one short argument on that account, and proceed to show how the duty of religion necessarily follows the belief of a providence. You acknowledge that God is infinitely powerful, wise and good, and also a free agent, and you will not deny that he has communicated to us part of his wisdom, power and goodness; that is, he has made us in some degree, wise, potent and good. And is it then impossible for him to communicate any part of his freedom, and make us also in some degree free? Is not even his infinite power sufficient for this? I should be glad to hear what reason any man can give for thinking in that manner. It is sufficient for me to show it is not impossible, and no man, I think, can show it is improbable. Much more might be offered to demonstrate clearly, that men are in some degree free agents and accountable for their actions; however, this I may possibly reserve for another separate discourse hereafter, if I find occasion.
Lastly. If God does not sometimes interfere by his providence, it is either because he cannot, or because he will not. Which of these positions will you choose? There is a righteous nation grievously oppressed by a cruel tyrant, they earnestly intreat God to deliver them. If you say he cannot, you deny his infinite power, which [you] at first acknowledged. If you say he will not, you must directly deny his infinite goodness. You are of necessity obliged to allow that it is highly reasonable to believe a providence, because it is highly absurd to believe otherwise.
Now, if it is unreasonable to suppose it out of the power of the Deity to help and favor us particularly, or that we are out of his hearing and notice, or that good actions do not procure more of his favor than ill ones; then I conclude, that believing a providence, we have the foundation of all true religion, for we should love and revere that Deity for his goodness, and thank him for his benefits; we should adore him for his wisdom, fear him for his power, and pray to him for his favor and protection. And this religion will be a powerful regulator of our actions, give us peace and tranquillity within our own minds, and render us benevolent, useful and beneficial to others.
LETTER FROM ANTHONY AFTERWIT.
Mr. Gazetteer,—I am an honest tradesman who never meant harm to any body. My affairs went on smoothly while a bachelor; but of late I have met with some difficulties of which I take the freedom to give you an account.
About the time I first addressed my present spouse, her father gave out in speeches that if she married a man he liked, he would give with her 200l. in cash on the day of marriage. He never said so much to me, it is true, but he always received me very kindly at his house, and openly countenanced my courtship. I formed several fine schemes what to do with this same 200l. and in some measure neglected my business on that account; but unluckily it came to pass that when the old gentleman saw I was pretty well engaged and that the match was too far gone to be easily broke off, he without any reason given, grew very angry, forbid me the house, and told his daughter that if she married me he would not give her a farthing. However (as he thought) we were not to be disappointed in that manner, but having stole a wedding I took her home to my house, where we were not in quite so poor a condition as the couple described in the Scotch song, who had
| Neither pot nor pan But four bare legs together, |
for I had a house tolerably furnished for a poor man, before. No thanks to Dad, who, I understand, was very much pleased with his politic management; and I have since learned that there are other old curmudgeons (so called) besides him, who have this trick to marry their daughters, and yet keep what they might well spare, till they can keep it no longer. But this by way of digression, a word to the wise is enough.
I soon saw that with ease and industry we might live tolerably easy and in credit with our neighbors; but my wife had a strong inclination to be a gentlewoman. In consequence of this, my old fashioned looking glass was one day broke, as she said, no one could tell which way. However, since we could not be without a glass in the room, My dear, saith she, we may as well buy a large fashionable one that Mr. Such-a-one has to sell. It will cost but little more than a common glass, and will look much handsomer and more creditable. Accordingly, the glass was bought and hung against the wall, but in a week's time I was made sensible by little and little, that the table was by no means suitable to such a glass; and a more proper table being procured, some time after, my spouse, who was an excellent contriver, informed me where we might have very handsome chairs in the way; and thus by degrees I found all my old furniture stowed up in the garret, and every thing below altered for the better.
Had we stopped here it might have done well enough. But my wife being entertained with tea by the good women she visited, we could do no less than the like when they visited us, and so we got a tea table with all its appurtenances of china and silver. Then my spouse unfortunately overworked herself in washing the house, so that we could do no longer without a maid. Besides this, it happened frequently that when I came home at one, the dinner was but just put in the pot, and my dear thought really it had been but eleven. At other times when I came at the same hour, she wondered I would stay so long, for dinner was ready about one and had waited for me these two hours. These irregularities occasioned by mistaking the time convinced me that it was absolutely necessary to buy a clock, which my spouse observed was a great ornament to the room. And lastly, to my grief, she was troubled with some ailment or other, and nothing did her so much good as riding, and these hackney horses were such wretched ugly creatures that—I bought a very fine pacing mare which cost 20l.; and hereabouts affairs have stood for about a twelvemonth past.
I could see all along that this did not at all suit with my circumstances, but had not resolution enough to help it, till lately receiving a very severe dun which mentioned the next court, I began in earnest to project relief. Last Monday, my dear went over the river to see a relation and stay a fortnight, because she could not bear the heat of the town air. In the interim I have taken my turn to make alterations, viz.—I have turned away the maid, bag and baggage—(for what should we do with a maid, who beside our boy, have none but ourselves?) I have sold the pacing mare and bought a good milch cow with 3l. of the money. I have disposed of the table and put a good spinning wheel in its place, which methinks looks very pretty: nine empty canisters I have stuffed with flax, and with some of the money of the tea furniture I have bought a set of knitting needles, for to tell you the truth I begin to want stockings. The fine clock I have transformed into an hour glass, by which I have gained a good round sum, and one of the pieces of the old looking glass squared and framed, supplies the place of the great one, which I have conveyed into a closet where it may possibly remain some years. In short the face of things is quite changed, and methinks you would smile to see my hour glass hanging in the place of the clock,—what a great ornament it is to the room! I have paid my debts and find money in my pocket. I expect my dear home next Friday, and as your paper is taken at the house where she is, I hope the reading of this will prepare her mind for the above surprising revolutions. If she can conform herself to this new manner of living, we shall be the happiest couple perhaps in the province, and by the blessing of God may soon be in thriving circumstances. I have reserved the great glass because I know her heart is set upon it; I will allow her when she comes in to be taken suddenly ill with the headache, the stomach ache, fainting fits, or whatever other disorder she may think more proper, and she may retire to bed as soon as she pleases. But if I should not find her in perfect health both of body and mind the next morning, away goes the aforesaid great glass with several other trinkets I have no occasion for, to the vendue that very day—which is the irrevocable resolution
Of, Sir, her loving husband and
Your very humble servant,
ANTHONY AFTERWIT.
P. S. I would be glad to know how you approve my conduct.
Answer. I dont love to concern myself in affairs between man and wife.
LETTER FROM CELIA SINGLE.
Mr. Gazetteer,—I must needs tell you that some of the things you print do more harm than good, particularly I think so of the tradesman's letter, which was in one of your late papers, which disobliged many of our sex and has broken the peace of several families, by causing difference between men and their wives. I shall give you here one instance of which I was an eye and ear witness.
Happening last Wednesday morning to be at Mrs. W.'s when her husband returned from market, among other things he showed her some balls of thread which he had bought. My dear, says he, I like mightily those stockings which I yesterday saw neighbor Afterwit knitting for her husband, of thread of her own spinning. I should be glad to have some such stockings myself. I understand that your maid Mary is a very good knitter, and seeing this thread in market I have bought it that the girl may make a pair or two for me. Mrs. W. was just then at the glass dressing her head, and turning about with the pins in her mouth, Lord, child, says she, are you crazy? What time has Mary to knit? Who must do the work, I wonder, if you set her to knitting? Perhaps, my dear, says he, you have a mind to knit them yourself. I remember, when I courted you, I once heard you say that you had learned to knit of your mother. I knit stockings for you, says she, not I, truly! There are poor women enough in town who can knit; if you please you may employ them. Well, but my dear, says he, you know a penny saved is a penny got, and there is neither sin nor shame in knitting a pair of stockings; why should you have such a mighty aversion to it? And what signifies talking of poor women, you know we are not people of quality. We have no income to maintain us but arises from my labor and industry. Methinks you should not be at all displeased when you have an opportunity of getting something as well as myself. I wonder, says she, you can propose such a thing to me. Did not you always tell me you would maintain me like a gentlewoman? If I had married the Captain I am sure he would have scorned to mention knitting of stockings. Prythee, says he, a little nettled, what do you tell me of your Captain? If you could have had him I suppose you would, or perhaps you did not like him very well. If I did promise to maintain you as a gentlewoman, methinks it is time enough for that when you know how to behave yourself like one. How long, do you think, I can maintain you at your present rate of living? Pray, says she, somewhat fiercely, and dashing the puff into the powder box, dont use me in this manner, for I'll assure you I wont bear it. This is the fruit of your poison newspapers: there shall no more come here I promise you. Bless us, says he, what an unaccountable thing is this? Must a tradesman's daughter and the wife of a tradesman necessarily be a lady? In short, I tell you if I am forced to work for a living and you are too good to do the like, there's the door, go and live upon your estate. And as I never had or could expect any thing with you, I dont desire to be troubled with you.
What answer she made I cannot tell, for knowing that man and wife are apt to quarrel more violently when before strangers, than when by themselves, I got up and went out hastily. But I understand from Mary who came to me of an errand in the evening, that they dined together very peaceably and lovingly, the balls of thread which had caused the disturbance being thrown into the kitchen fire, of which I was very glad to hear.
I have several times in your paper seen reflections upon us women for idleness and extravagance, but I do not remember to have once seen such animadversions upon the men. If we were disposed to be censorious we could furnish you with instances enough; I might mention Mr. Billiard who loses more than he earns at the green table, and would have been in jail long since had it not been for his industrious wife. Mr. Husselcap, who every market day at least, and often all day long, leaves his business for the rattling of half pence in a certain alley—or Mr. Finikin, who has seven different suits of fine clothes and wears a change every day, while his wife and children sit at home half naked—Mr. Crownhim always dreaming over the chequer board, and who cares not how the world goes with his family so he does but get the game—Mr. Totherpot the tavern haunter, Mr. Bookish the everlasting reader, Mr. Tweedledum and several others, who are mighty diligent at any thing besides their proper business. I say, if I were disposed to be censorious, I might mention all these and more, but I hate to be thought a scandalizer of my neighbors, and therefore forbear; and for your part I would advise you for the future to entertain your readers with something else besides people's reflections upon one another, for remember that there are holes enough to be picked in your coat as well as others, and those that are affronted by the satires that you may publish, will not consider so much who wrote as who printed, and treat you accordingly. Take not this freedom amiss from
Your friend and reader,
CELIA SINGLE.