Ben Franklin's Virtues

--By Lt. Col. ROBERT M. WALKER
Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas
Published in the Indiana Freemason, V. 37 n. 8, January 1960

T HAS BEEN SAID that Benjamin Franklin became a Mason purely for the purpose of advancing his career, and that he practically black-jacked the St. John of Jerusalem Lodge of Philadelphia into accepting his petition. If this is true, his later dedication and exemplary development beautifully demonstrates the fallacy of evaluating accomplishments on a basis of original motives. If it is false, it means only that his later life was a perfect continuation of his original intent. In either case, his method of seeking perfection is worth both Masonic study and emulation.

Shortly after he became a Mason, Franklin conceived what he called "the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection." He knew, or thought he knew, the difference between right and wrong, and could see no reason why he might not always do the one and avoid the other. However, he found that while carefully avoiding one fault, he was often surprised by another. Habit, as he put it, took advantage of inattention; and inclination was something too strong for reason.

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In keeping with his methodical nature, he decided that a record of his vices and mistakes was necessary if he were to avoid their repetition. His first action was to make a catalogue of the virtues he sought (Figure 1, right sidebar).

He then designed a little book in which to keep the records of his actions. This book was arranged in columns, each lettered for a day of the week, and down the left column he placed the first letter of each of the 13 virtues he had listed. His intent was to devote a week of strict attention to each of these virtues in turn, placing a black mark in the box of the day and virtue each time he determined a fault in himself (Figure 2).

Benjamin Franklin kept this book carefully and faithfully for a considerable time. Then he reduced its use to one page a year, later yet to one every several years, and finally omitted its use altogether due to the press of other affairs.

Subsequently, he planned to publish his thoughts and method in a book to be called The Art of Virtue, a project that was never completed. However, in his autobiography written in 1784 and concerning his life up to the year 1757, he devoted nineteen pages to his Art of Virtue.

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But this is not the end of the story, for all the manifest accomplishments of Brother Benjamin Franklin during his busy and productive life, nothing is so strikingly Masonic as his campaign for self-improvement. These were tumultuous years, it must be remembered, and society had not yet evolved today's carefully delineated lines of moral control. Today's sins of drinking, gambling, and casual romantic affairs were an accepted part of their way of life. These were the prerogatives of every man, according to his station in the social structure of the times. And Ben Franklin had tasted of this life fully.

His marriage to Deborah Read in 1730 would have been viewed with a jaundiced eye today, for her previous hubsand had disappeared and although people said he was dead there was no conclusive information or evidence available concerning his death. In addition, Franklin brought to the marriage a little boy--what they called in those days a "natural son."

In a previous trip to England he had indulged in about every form of indiscretion he could find, drinking deeply of the hard and colorful life of what was called the most progressive nation in Europe and at the same time the most unrefined.

His reformation occured coincidentally with his marriage and his acceptance into the Masonic Brotherhood--and either might be the basic cause for the redirection of his life. However, it seems likely that Masonry was deeply involved in his self - improvement for the things he sought are certainly the virtues Masonry inculcates.

It is quite probable that few Masons today would feel inclined to go through the agonizing self-appraisal that Franklin attempted. Yet in his effort there is an object lesson of far too infrequent derivation. It is not enough for a Mason to aim high, for the mere stating of a lofty objective is of absolutely no moment unless an honest attempt is made to accomplish this goal. Masonry teaches uprightness, but it is not a prop to hold a man upright. It is an example, a precept, a perfection that dedicated Masons may never reach, but cannot fail to attempt.

At the start of his self-improvement plan, Franklin recorded, "I was surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish."

Toward the end of his life, in that critical retrospect which so marked his mature existence he added, "On the whole, tho' I never arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the endeavour, a better and happier man than I otherwise should have been had I not attempted."

It appears that Benjamin Franklin could quite logically have added one more virtue to his list-- this would have been the virtue of Precept and Example. In spite of his own admitted failure to arrive at the perfection he sought, there would have been no black marks of fault behind this virtue on the pages of his uncompleted Art of Virtue.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
A pen sketch made in Paris and published only once, in a book by Gen. John Burgoyne.