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       Critical analysis is ultimately a subjective activity. Subjectivity is determined by personal factors, ideological and philosophical disposition and cultural and historical context. Ideally, criticism takes into account the circumstances of the subject being studied; otherwise the examiner imposes upon the process a baseline that is out of synch with the elements from the subject’s world. So often we hear about cultural insensitivity—and yet this phenomenon also occurs when a society looks upon its former state (or that of another) and evaluates it according to new standards. This is not to say that the new lens must be abolished (it is not even possible); however, it does mean that it should be tempered with an understanding of the subject’s world. Occasionally we get it right. More often, we do not because we are clouded by our own context and our own agenda.
        Benjamin Franklin’s legacy is larger than the man. This is not a mild statement, for the facts of his life are themselves profound. Whether he is praised or condemned, the truth of the matter is that he had a lasting impact—and both his admirers and detractors are sometimes guilty of ignoring the circumstances of his world when judging him. Franklin was a statesman, a scientist, an inventor, a printer and a journalist. His influence was amazingly deep and broad and he gained a reputation home and abroad. He was co-writer of both the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution. His philosophic maxims about how one should conduct his life connected with an impressionable America that’s identity was moving away from British consciousness. America was in fact, listening for new voices. A penny saved, early to bed, healthy, wealthy, and wise--we know these well, and so many more.
        Yes, like him or not, Franklin was certainly not going to be ignored or downplayed in the memory of American society. He is viewed as a practical, self-reliant, modestly adorned man, optimistic when possible, skeptical when necessary, and realistic the rest of the time. He believed in industry, ambition and devotion to the rational universe. He was ever mindful of his civic environs, the social dynamic and body politic.
        Our current sensibility generally regards the things listed herein as virtuous; removing all emotion and interpretation, we are pretty much left with the same data, because they were the facts. Though current general consensus values these facts rather highly, some of Franklin’s harshest critics, agreeing with the raw data, condemned him precisely because of the facts.
        Many of Franklin’s detractors did not simply regard him as being overrated; they also feel he was a detriment to America’s evolving consciousness. Even while many of his economic principles can still be felt today (being largely capitalistic), he is charged with putting the soul of a nation at risk and for being at least partially responsible for some of the ills many feel the American psyche has experienced.
        In Studies in Classic American Literature (1923), D.H. Lawrence accuses Franklin of gross materialism. Indeed, as indicated, Franklin did espouse utility, economy, productivity, labor, thrift, scientific advancement and vocational development. However, given the circumstances of America in that time, Lawrence’s charge seems altogether unwarranted. America was coming to its own and had many things to do in order to survive as a viable, self-reliant entity. Commerce and utilitarian interests were very much at the center of focus for Franklin, largely because they needed to be. The coming decades would determine the success or failure of America as a body of people, whether or not independence was acquired. Spiritual growth, arguably important, would not have been enough. Furthermore, the Puritan society out of which Franklin’s 18^th Century world was growing, was unaligned with Lawrence’s 19^th and 20^th Century transcendentalism. One wonders what context he expected Franklin to draw upon to have such a non-traditional, metaphysical sensibility . Puritan values were themselves quite distinct from transcendentalist precepts. Put simply, Franklin and Lawrence belonged to different realities.
        Still, while it is true that Franklin’s voice can clearly be heard from the chorus of Rationalists (embracing all that science and Reason could offer society), he espoused morality, virtue, social conscientiousness and personal improvement. Yes, he moved beyond the Puritan Congregationalism practiced by his parents and took spirituality into a more secular realm--but as a Deist, he did so because of his belief that Man and God could be harmonized through scientific revelation and logical discourse. As far as Franklin saw it, personal economy brought the individual into lockstep with God. This can be challenged by different philosophical models, but his intention was clear. However, intent meant little to Lawrence who scathingly asserts,

And now I, at least, know why I can't stand Benjamin. He tries to take away my wholeness and my dark forest, my freedom. For how can any man be free, without an illimitable background? And Benjamin tries to shove me into a barbed wire paddock and make me grow potatoes or Chicagoes. . . ' Work, you free jewel, WORK!' shouts the liberator, cracking his whip. Benjamin, I will not work. I do not choose to be a free democrat. I am absolutely a servant of my own Holy Ghost (Lawrence "Studies" 19).

Ormond Seavey, Professor of English at George Washington University, hits upon the central point in Franklin’s belief system by explaining that Franklin simply believed that individuals could organize their lives, establish a foundation and elevate themselves in a very real world, tangible sense. Ben Wattenberg of PBS’s Think Tank agrees, pointing out that Franklin’s ideology is not merely about political liberty, but also about personal liberty. Evidence of this is provided in his autobiography in a piece entitled, “The Encouragement of Idleness,” in which Benjamin Franklin declares,

I am for doing good to the poor, but I differ in opinion of the means. I think the best way of doing good to the poor, is not making them easy in poverty, but leading or driving them out of it. In my youth I travelled much, and I observed in different countries, that the more public provisions were made for the poor the less they provided for themselves, and of course became poorer. And, on the contrary, the less was done for them, the more they did for themselves, and became richer.

         Franklin died 133 years before D.H. Lawrence made his charge in Studies in Classic American Literature. To be honest, Lawrence’s transcendentalism was in part born of the era succeeding Franklin’s still relatively innocent time. Lawrence reacted to the eventual abuses of industry, inherent inequities between the classes, social preoccupation with productivity (which continues even today) and the supplanting of the pastoral environment by factories. Still, Franklin himself cannot be held accountable for later abuses and a mechanism that got out of control—if indeed it did. His positive scientific and social forecasts did not land too far from the truth; it is just that he did not dwell on the negative potential inherent in industry, science and rationalism. No matter how one might judge Franklin, he certainly did not have the 20/20 hindsight that Lawrence enjoyed.
        Opposing Franklin’s rationalism, D.H. Lawrence believed in intuiting existence, in embracing primordial nature and in devoting oneself to emotive living. In a letter in 1913, Lawrence declares, "My great religion is a belief in the blood, the flesh, as being wiser than the intellect. We can go wrong in our minds, but what the blood feels, and believes, and says, is always right" (Lawrence "Portable" 563). To him, Franklin—pragmatic and materialistic—was cold, heartless, spiritually-devoid and a social hindrance. For Lawrence, human nature was continuously interactive with the unseen, mystical realm. People are not creators of their lives so much as managers of the human condition; hence if the variables of the system are ignored, our relationship with the universe becomes congested. “All this Americanizing and mechanizing has been for the purpose of overthrowing the past. And now look at America, tangled in her own barbed wire, and mastered by her own machines. Absolutely got down by her own barbed wire of shalt-nots, and shut up fast in her own 'productive' machines like millions of squirrels running in millions of cages. It is just a farce" (Lawrence "Studies" 21).
        A fascinating essay by Donald H. Meyer strongly refutes Lawrence’s charges and explains what Meyer feels to be a general misconception regarding Franklin’s spirituality. Unlike Lawrence, Meyer puts Franklin’s life in focus when making his case. “To call (Franklin) a Deist is fair enough,” Meyer says, “but it does not really explain very much, either about the man or about his age" (Buxbaum 161). Meyer challenges the traditional, limiting conception of what ‘religious’ itself denotes:

Religion is never merely metaphysics for it involves the entire conduct of a life; but it is never merely ethics as well. It is neither a body of ‘truths’ to be believed nor a system of commands to be obeyed. It is rather a world view by which ‘reality’ is defined, in recognition of which, and loyalty to which the people of a give culture perform the rituals, observe the rules, and acknowledge the symbols which give their lives significance (162).

        Meyer rejects the common notion that theology and philosophy belong to select individuals that make irrefutable cases that laymen do not know enough to challenge. To call Franklin a scientist does not exclude his serviceability as a kind of lens towards the Divine. It just might mean that he is not a traditional advocate of spirituality as it exists unto itself in the distant and abstract. “Cannot life be approached in the sensible, careful, and dependable way of the mechanical arts? Can not life’s higher concerns—even religious or ‘ultimate concerns’—be similarly treated and settled?" (151).
        Meyer sees Franklin as a kind of Prometheus whose inventions reveal the awesome magnitude of God. The Almighty, for example, writes into the physical universe a sequence of laws which someone the likes of Franklin seeks out, extracts, examines, and harnesses into an invention like the wood stove. This is Meyer’s assertion and it cut to the heart of Deism. God is not necessarily hiding Himself “like a prankish schoolboy, leaving clues that only a few close friends could ever figure out" (151). Rather, like Newton rationally demonstrated the workmanship of God, so too did Franklin, and subsequently did commune with Him.
        In 1780, Franklin wrote to Joseph Priestly, maintaining the enormous potential of science to improve the sphere of human existence.

I always rejoice to hear of your being still employed in experimental researches into nature and of the success you meet with. The rapid progress true science now makes, occasions my regretting sometimes that I was born too soon. It is impossible to imagine the height to which may be carried, in a thousand years, the power of man over matter. We may, perhaps, deprive large masses of their gravity, and give them absolute levity, for the sake of easy transport. Agriculture may diminish its labor and double its produce: all diseases may by sure means be prevented or cured, (not excepting even that of old age,) and our lives lengthened at pleasure, even beyond the antediluvian standard. Oh that moral science were in as fair a way of improvement, that men would cease to be wolves to one another, and that human beings would at length learn what they now improperly call humanity (Franklin Writings 1017).

        In some measure, Franklin’s predictions have already come true, though there is a general sense that more can be done. While he regarded the human mind as a facilitator for Man’s advancement, it can be argued that he does not see scientific advancement as an empty goal. He even expressed a sense that when knowledge might not have an immediate end, there is still be value in it for future reaping. In 1783, Franklin was in Paris, witnessing the first hot-air balloon flights. A skeptic shouted out, “What good are they?” to which Franklin replied, “What good is a new-born baby?”
        If you examine Franklin’s overarching belief, he was not simply pro-industry and entrepreneurial venture. Fundamentally, his system applies to many areas of human interest and to personal betterment. Analyst Peter Baida argues that when Franklin was not talking specifically about economics, he was still calling for a form of economic practice. Baida makes a direct correlation between capitalism and Franklin’s list of virtues, saying, “It makes no difference whether Franklin seeks wealth or moral perfection” (23). Indeed, the practice Franklin suggested provided clear objectives, a coherent system by which to attain them and a timetable.
        Granted, it was this very thing that D.H. Lawrence deplored. However, his argument was not that Franklin’s model for spiritual growth was flimsy, but that Franklin had no real interest in spiritual matters, even when he incited God and referred to the human soul. Certainly, Franklin’s economic attitude was not entirely in synch with the transcendentalist mindset of later years—but again, should Franklin be judged according to criteria that did not yet exist in the world?
        Conversely, one must be careful not to see in Franklin the modern day capitalist, though many of the capitalistic principles of today, and of D.H. Lawrence’s time, seem to be built upon some of Franklin’s principles. This too is where Lawrence went astray in his evaluation.
        Mott and Zinke note that the average economist of the Twentieth Century is very technical in his field, studying the various economic principles, forecasting the probable outcomes of each, and evaluating the short and long term effects. However, he would begrudgingly and guardedly discuss the moral and social implications as it relates to the individual (Buxbaum 111-129). This is something Franklin did though, for again, he existed in a different time. Not ours and not that of D.H. Lawrence.
         Add to this the fact that there is no evidence that Franklin believed in untamed wealth, or that he regarded the state of the soul to be of secondary importance to material acquisition, one can see in Franklin a spiritually-minded man. This brings us back to Deism, which is indeed a model of spirituality—just one that looks upon the rational, scientific, mathematical universe in the process of organizing individual lives and a pragmatic world. Deist prescription maintains that health in practical matters reflects health on a spiritual level.
        In all fairness, D.H. Lawrence, a British poet from the early Twentieth Century, was not alone in his criticism of Franklin. American writer, Herman Melville, felt similarly, though he was less scathing in his reproach. He declared that Franklin was a “printer, postmaster, almanac maker, essayist, chemist, orator” and that “he was everything, but a poet." This statement has been interpreted by many to mean that while Franklin was accomplished and successful, he did not concern himself with the realm of the human heart. Still, one must keep sight of the man’s intentions and dig into the heart of his ideology. There is every indication that Franklin cared for the future of humanity and was devoted to easing suffering through science, logic, temperance and industry. Does not this resonate with both heart and spirit?
        Much has also been made of Mark Twain’s comments regarding Franklin, in which he says that Franklin had “prostituted his talents to the invention of maxims and aphorisms calculated to inflict suffering upon the rising generation of all subsequent ages. His simplest acts, also, were contrived with a view to their being held up for the emulation of boys forever--boys who might otherwise have been happy” (Twain 188).
        However, many others who understand Twain’s humor and discourse, have reasoned that he intended his remarks as light-hearted comedy. Still, nothing can dissuade even the most educated of scholars from seeing what they either choose to see or are disposed to see.

Perhaps D.H. Lawrence was right and perhaps he was wrong, but this much seems clear: understanding the context of a thing is at least 85 percent of understanding the thing itself. No matter how much a person tries to be objective, his judgment of a previous era will be clouded by his own perspective--a perspective that the era itself inherently could not have.

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Works Cited

Baida, Peter. Poor Richard's Legacy: American Business Values From Benjamin Franklin to Donald Trump. New York: William Morrow and Company, Inc., 1990.

Buxbaum, Melvin. H. Critical Essays on Benjamin Franklin. Boston: G.K. Hall & Co., 1987.

Franklin, Benjamin. Writings. Ed. Leo Lemay. New York: Literary Classics of the United States, 1987.

Lawrence, D.H. Studies in Classic American Literature. Great Britain: Penguin, 1971.

Lawrence, D.H. The Portable D. H. Lawrence. New York : The Viking press, 1947.

Twain, Mark. Sketches New and Old. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1917.

"Was Ben Franklin the First American?" Think Tank. Retrieved 14 June 2001. <http://www.pbs.org/thinktank/transcript956.html>.