CHAPTER XXIV.
Ben, as we have seen, was never without a knot of choice spirits, like satellites, constantly revolving around him, and both receiving and reflecting light. By these satellites I mean young men of fine minds, and fond of books. He had at this time a _trio_ of such. The first was of the name of Osborne, the second Watson, and the third Ralph. As the two first were a good deal of the nature of wandering stars, which, though bright, soon disappear again, I shall let them pass away in silence. But the last, that's to say, Ralph, shone so long in the same sphere with Ben, both in America and Europe, that it will never do to let him go without giving the reader somewhat at least of a telescopic squint at him. James Ralph, then, was a young man of the first rate talents, ingenious at argument, of flowery fancy, most fascinating in his manners, and uncommonly eloquent. In short, he appears to have been built and equipped to run the voyage of life with as splendid success as any. But alas! as the seamen say of their ships, "_he took the wrong sheer_." Hence, while many a DULL GENIUS, with only a few plain-sailing virtues on board, such as honest industry, good humour, and prudence, have made fine weather through life, and come into port at last laden _up to the bends_ with riches and honours, this gallant PROA, this stately GONDOLA, the moment he was put to sea, was caught up in a Euroclydon of furious passions and appetites that shivered his character and peace, and made a wreck of him at the very outset.
According to his own account, it appears that Ben was often haunted with fears that he himself had some hand in Ralph's disasters. Dr. Franklin was certainly one of the wisest of mankind. But with all his wisdom he was still but a man, and therefore liable to err. Solomon, we know, was fallible; what wonder then young Franklin?
But here lies the difference between these two wise men, as to their errors. Solomon, according to scripture, was sometimes overcome of Satan, even in the bone and sinew of his strength; but the devil was too hard for Franklin only while he was in the _gristle_ of his youth. The case was thus: among the myriads of books which came to his eager tooth, there was a most unlucky one on deism, written, 'tis said, by Shaftesbury, a man admirably calculated to pervert the truth; or, as Milton says of one of his fallen spirits, to make "_the worse appear the better reason_." Mark now this imposing writer--he does not utter you a word against religion; not he indeed: no, not for the world. Why, sirs, he's the best friend of religion. He praises it up to the skies, as the sole glory of man, the strong pillar of his virtues, and the inexhaustible fountain of all his hopes. But then he cannot away with that false religion, that detestable superstition called christianity. And here, to set his readers against it, he gives them a most horrible catalogue of the cruelties and bloody persecutions it has always occasioned in the world; nay, he goes so far as to assert that christians are the _natural enemies of mankind_; "vainly conceiting themselves," says he, "to be the favourites of heaven, they look on the rest of the world but as 'heathen dogs' whom it is 'doing God service to kill,' and whose goods it is right to seize on, as spoil for the Lord's people! Who," he asks crowingly, "filled Asia with fire and sword in the bloody wars of the Crusades? The christians. Who depopulated the fine negro-coasts of Africa? The christians. Who extirpated many of the once glorious Indian nations of America? The christians; nay," continues he, "so keen are those christians for blood, that when they can't get their 'heathen dogs' to fall on, they fall on one another: witness the papist christians destroying the protestants, and the protestant christians destroying the papists. And still greater shame," says he, "to these sweet followers of the Lamb, these papist and protestant christians, when they can no longer worry each other, will worry those of their own party, as in numberless and shameful cases of the calvinists and arminians; nay, so prone are the christians to hate, that their greatest doctors even in their _pulpits_, instead of exhorting to piety and those godlike virtues, that make men honour and love one another, will fix on the vainest speculations; which, though not understood by one soul among them, yet serve abundantly to set them all by the ears; yes, they can hate one another:
"For believing that there are three persons in the Godhead; or only one person.
"For believing that there are children in hell not a span long; or for not believing it.
"For believing that every body will be saved; or for believing that scarcely any body will be saved.
"For baptizing in mill ponds; or only out of china bowls.
"For taking the sacrament in both elements; or only in the bread.
"For praying in Latin; or for praying only in English.
"For praying with a book; or for praying without a book.
"For praying standing; or for praying kneeling.
"For reading the Bible by themselves; or for reading it only with a priest.
"For wearing long beards; or for shaving their beards.
"For preaching up predestination; or for preaching up free will.
"Now," continues our writer, "barely to _hate_ one's neighbours for such notions as these, were enough, one would think, to make any common d----l blush; but these christians, as if to out-d----l Satan himself, can not only hate, but actually murder one another for these contradictory notions! yes; and oh, horrible to think! not only murder, but even glory in it: at every shower of cruel bullets on their flying victims; or at every plunge of the reeking spear into the bodies of shrieking mothers and infants, they can cheer each other to _the glorious spot_ with animating huzzas! and even when the infernal tragedy is closed, they can write congratulatory letters, and sing _Te Deums_, giving glory to God that the MONSTERS--the BEASTS--the HERETICS, are rooted out."
Such was the prince of infidels. And it was the very argument to stagger Ben, even the dangerous argument of example, which young as he was, he had learned to consider as a short way of coming at men's real principles.
"Example is a living law, whose sway Men more than all the living laws obey."
Or as Hudibras has it,
"Men oft prove it by their _practice_: No argument like matter of _fact_ is. And we are, best of all, led to Men's principles, by what they do."
'Tis true, that to tax the gospel with these accursed deeds of mad papists and protestants, is just about as good logic as to accuse our excellent civil code with all the crimes of gamblers and horse thieves--the very rascals it aims to hang. Or like charging the sun as the cause of _darkness_, which indeed it was given to dispel.
But Ben was too young yet, to know everything. And besides, led altogether as he was by the strongest feelings of sympathy, it is not much to be wondered at, that this popular argument, "_the barbarities of christians_," should have excited so lasting prejudice against christianity. As some men of delicate natures who have taken an emetic, though in the best madeira, can never afterwards bear the smell of that generous liquor; so christianity, steeped in tears and blood, excited in Ben an aversion that stuck by him a long time. In short, Ben became an unbeliever. And, like Paul of Tarsus, during the reign of his unbelief, "_he thought verily he ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth, which things he also did_," arguing powerfully for _natural_ religion.
How many converts he made to infidelity, I have never been able exactly to learn. But certain it is, he made two, viz. John Collins and James Ralph. As to Collins, we have seen already, that in converting him to scepticism, he soon _drew down an old house over his head_, his pupil quickly turning out a most impudent drunkard and swindler. And though he expected better luck from Ralph, yet he quickly discovered in him also certain very dismal symptoms of the cloven foot.
Some short time before the sailing of the Annis, Ben, in the warmth of his heart, told Ralph of the immense affair which Sir William Keith had engaged him in, viz. to make him the KING'S PRINTER in Philadelphia. And also that he was about to sail in a few days on that very errand for London. Ralph suddenly turned serious; the next day he came and told Ben that he had made up his mind to go with him. "How can that be," said Ben, "seeing you have a young wife and child?" To this Ralph replied, with an oath, that "that should be no obstacle." "It was true," he said, "he had married the wench, but it was only for her money. But since the old rascal, her father, would not give it to him, he was determined to be revenged on him, by leaving his daughter and grandchild on his hands for life."
Ben, though greatly shocked by this trait in his character, was yet so blindly partial to Ralph that he could not find in his heart to spurn him from his acquaintance. But for this, as he afterwards called it, _great error in his life_, he received a chastisement, which, though pretty severe, was not one stripe more than he richly deserved.