Summary
Franklin notes that the Revolution interrupted his writing for a time but he was encouraged by many to continue. He includes letters from Benjamin Vaughn exhorting him to finish the work. Vaughn lauds his contributions to the creation of the new nation and says that people must hear of the template to live a good life; clearly, self-education and how one educates themselves in their youth and works on attaining wisdom as a man are valuable things to read of. He also admires Franklin’s prudence, humility, and practice of all that is “wise, practical, and good” (73). Finally, he says that the work will show people that their humble origins do not matter, and that it is proper to wait for one’s time to step on the historical stage. Franklin’s unique traits must be made plain for the rest of the world, especially to counteract the influence of cutthroats and troublemakers.
Franklin thus continues his writing after this long gap, returning to his explanation of how the public library of Philadelphia came to be. It is subscription-based, and attracts many people. Reading becomes fashionable and Franklin believes Americans to be more literate and intelligent than those in other countries. He acknowledges that he had to make sure that the endeavor did not appear to have the intention of raising his own reputation, so he had others help him. Reading is his own main leisure pursuit, especially as he does not allow himself time in taverns. He knows he has debt and a young family to support, so frugality is very important to him. He keeps a simple house, but over time their wealth allows them to have more nice things.
In terms of religion, Franklin states that he believes there is a God and that he has some religious principles, but is not a part of any sect. He would never try to lessen another man’s faith, although he was occasionally critical of preachers who were dry and dull and did nothing to inculcate good moral principles.
Around this time he comes to his great project: to achieve moral perfection. He consults a variety of sources and amalgamates them into his own list of thirteen virtues and their precepts. They are: Temperance, Silence, Order, Resolution, Frugality, Industry, Sincerity, Justice, Moderation, Cleanliness, Tranquility, Chastity, and Humility. He organizes them in a logical fashion, as mastering one will make others down the list easier. He decides to work on one per week, knowing that attempting them all at once would be very difficult. He gathers inspirational quotes and prayers as well.
In terms of reflection, Franklin notes that he was more full of faults than he’d initially thought. Some virtues were harder than others, such as order. Overall, now that he is an old man, he knows he never achieved perfection but “was by the Endeavor a better and happier Man than I otherwise should have been, if I had not attempted it” (90). He even considered writing a book about this art of attaining virtue, but never got around to it. He adds one more thing: he initially only had twelve virtues, but had to add humility. In his conversations with people he began to be more moderate, which made it easier for people to agree with him or for him to be less upset when he realized it was he who was in error. He knows that pride is indeed the hardest thing to subdue for human beings.
Franklin moves on to his political beliefs. He states that men often do not do things with their country’s good in mind, but tell themselves that if good comes about then their interests and their country’s were in line. He begins to think that there ought to be a religious sect of sorts that promotes men doing services for other men. It should only be open to young single men at first. They will practice the thirteen virtues and assist each other. They will be called the Society of the Free and Easy. Unfortunately, Franklin is too busy to carry this out at the time, and looking back thinks that it would have been a good thing to have done.
In 1732 he publishes Poor Richard’s Almanac, which he intends to be a “proper Vehicle for conveying Instruction among the common People, who bought scarce any other Books” (96). He is proud of the proverbs and pieces included. He is also proud of his newspaper, in which he elides libel and abuse but includes instruction and praise of virtue.
In 1734 he remarks how he became an ardent supporter of a preacher named Hemphill, who was less about doctrine and more about practicing virtue and good works. He printed much of his work and was quite zealous until it became clear the words were not always his own; Franklin naturally abandoned him at that point.
Around this time Franklin also studies languages, mastering French and Italian. He returns to Latin, which he had attempted when he was young and then abandoned; he is pleased to note that it is easier now that he has mastered other languages.
As Franklin had been gone for ten years from Boston, he decides to return to visit relations. Everyone is thrilled to see him and he even mends his relationship with his brother James. He takes his young nephew into the printing trade and assists him, considering this an atonement for the disservice he did James by running away.
Franklin loses his own young son to smallpox in 1736, and regrets not inoculating him.
One of the things that brings Franklin joy is the Junto, which is doing quite well. It is initially a secret so as to keep improper people from joining, but some propose opening it up. Franklin is against this, but a compromise is made to form several sub-groups and report back the business to the main club. All in all, the clubs are successful and manifest in great public instruction and discourse.
Analysis
Franklin picks up his work again after the long absence of the Revolution, which he does not discuss. This revival of efforts is partially due to the cessation of the war but also due to the ardent encouragements of his friends such as Benjamin Vaughn, whose letter exhorting Franklin to continue for the good of American youth is included. The tone has clearly changed, now more practical and matter-of-factly didactic than plucky. The content moves from youthful intrigues and life lessons to more staid accounts of civic duties, scientific exploration, and political discourse. Overall, the work is now more moral, utilitarian, and authoritative, even as it uses its distinct voice to appeal to all manner of readers (the work does not seem to be for William Franklin anymore).
Perhaps the most memorable part of the Autobiography is found in the early pages of Part II: the quest for moral perfection. Before delving into the specific list, it is necessary to place that endeavor within the larger “moral-utilitarian ethos” Franklin espouses, as explained by critic Malini Schueller. She sees Franklin judging everything that comes his way “according to their capacity for general social-material wellbeing” and believing “virtue is a value only insofar as it becomes a means to wealth.” Even though Franklin narrates his journey from apprentice to statesman and wears many hats–philanthropist, artist, Quaker, scientist, skeptic, philosopher–all of the steps are subject “ontologically to the calculus of utility.” The errata that Franklin works through, which include dishonesty, loaning out money that did not belong to him, and flirting with another man’s mistress, are all evaluated in financial terms. Furthermore, “what is clear is that transgressions of virtue are not always harmful when virtue is calibrated in terms of material advancement.”
When it comes to the thirteen virtues themselves, Franklin articulates the practical benefits of his plan: wealth, a good reputation, and honor. This is the ideal, and one that is more earthly than spiritual. The moral-utilitarianism was to be emulated by readers, as it would benefit not just the individual but society as well. Franklin believes it to be, as Schueller writes, “an ethical duty subscribed to by all citizens of a growing republic.”
The virtues are laid out in an orderly, methodical way. Though they may occasionally dovetail with contemporary religious exhortations to virtue, they are free from any particular religious sect’s dogma (earlier Franklin explained how he had become a Deist). The morality is well-developed and mature, with its author, as critic Steven Forde writes, coming across “as neither a classical hero or a saint…he does embody an ideal of a distinctly modern and democratic sort.” Forde also notes the utilitarian aspect of the virtues in terms of how they instruct the common people to behave in order to earn money.
The virtues are argued for in a manner that hearkens to the new notion of reasonableness prevalent in the 18th century. This reasonableness comes before morality and religion and then governs those things; it is opposed to zealotry and intolerance. Franklin, as Forde writes, “remains the picture of equanimity, kept always on an even keel by his earthy reasonableness, an amiable trait that is infectious–and is meant to be.” The utilitarianism Franklin cheerfully and confidently lays out is even somewhat indulgent–far more than any religion would be. It allows for and promotes wealth, power, and a good reputation; this is where Franklin’s newspaper and Poor Richard’s Almanac come into play as well.
Ironically, for all his efforts and his confident tone, Franklin does not entirely succeed at this project. He never quite conquers order or humility, although he does try to do so. He is frank about his failures, explaining how his life still benefited tremendously from his efforts.
