Benjamin Franklin and His Pseudonyms

Undoubtedly one of the most prolific American figures of all time, Benjamin Franklin seemingly had his hand in everything. He was a consummate scientist, diplomat, businessman, and, most importantly, a writer. Franklin’s method of writing to address public issues often utilized a stylistic quirk – the pseudonym. Franklin had begun writing under other names during his early years apprenticing for his brother, when he was published under the name Silence Dogood, unbeknownst to the older James Franklin. Throughout his life, Franklin would use pen names to avoid censorship and explore taboo topics, as well as for comedic purposes. As scholar Eran Shalev writes, “the use of pseudonyms indeed ‘enabled men of honor to behave dishonorably,’ making responses to such attacks challenging: a reply might have given undeserved weight to a pseudonymous (or to that matter, an anonymous) confrontation, while overlooking it could considerably harm a reputation.” (Shalev 158). This paper will focus on three of his more well-known pseudonyms: Polly Baker, Poor Richard Saunders, and the aforementioned Silence Dogood. These invented characters were always thinly veiled representations of Franklin himself, often drawing off similar life experiences and embodying beliefs that he actually held: those of self-determination, hard work, and a healthy skepticism of authority.

It is not difficult to link Franklin’s life experience to his pseudonym-published work if one looks towards The Speech of Miss Polly Baker, printed in1747. In the work, the fictive narrator, Franklin’s invented Polly Baker, launches into a vehement defense of her illegitimate children, and her status as an unwed mother. Franklin himself had fathered his first child out of wedlock, making him one of the “bastards” described in the work (Papers of Benjamin Franklin 37:120). What follows is a humorous but surprisingly well-reasoned argument from Baker, in order to escape her punishment.

Baker is also a perfect example of a self-determined individual, already a revolutionary creation in a time when women were often subservient to men. She cannot afford a lawyer, “being hard put to it to get a tolerable Living” (37:120), much like the humble roots of young Benjamin Franklin. There is a veneration of the fact she has been able to support these five children on her own, and the crux of her argument places blame on the men who “leave unproduced (which is little better than Murder) Hundreds of their Posterity to the Thousandth Generation.” (37:124). While Franklin would have no reason to argue as a woman, or for the rights of women in such a specific and odd scenario, it is quite clearly a problem that he has considered, and the pseudonym enabled him to raise this issue to the public, hopefully enacting change. With a well-reasoned argument, a reader cannot help but agree that the absentee fathers are a “greater Offence against the Publick Good, than [Polly’s].” (37:125).

As Shalev notes, “The main reason for writing anonymously and pseudonymously in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Europe was the harsh censorship imposed by absolute regimes.” (Shalev 154). Throughout Polly Baker’s speech, she makes well-reasoned, but nonetheless iconoclastic, arguments against her fictive court. She calls the law “unreasonable,” and even advocates for a primitive separation of church and state, saying “If mine, then, is a religious Offence, leave it to religious Punishments.” (37:125). Even religious authority is challenged, as Baker admits she does not believe children out of wedlock to be a sin. The satirical piece ends on a humorous note, Baker claiming “instead of a Whipping, to have a Statue erected to my Memory.” (37:126). Certainly, Franklin could be remembered in this way, nearly 300 years later, for making a proto-feminist argument. But the only way it could have been printed is by using a pseudonym.

The letters of Silence Dogood were some of Franklin’s earliest writings, and posing as a country mistress, young Benjamin was able to give public voice to his youthful revolutionary ideas. In letter 4, published in 1722, Silence gives a critique of the educational system in New England, which obviously mirrors Franklin’s early life. The main critique is exactly the one Franklin himself was unable to surmount: two paths of “Riches and Poverty, and the latter obstinately refused to give Entrance to any who had not first gain’d the Favour of the former;”

(POBF 1:14), which clearly shows Franklin’s bitterness at being unable to continue his formal education given his family’s income. Publishing in The New England Courant, Franklin probably hoped to affect change in his local community, given his direct experience with its faults.

The tropes of hard work and self-determination also appear in this article, with Franklin’s critique of his fellow pupils being their Idleness and Ignorance. In climbing his metaphorical throne of knowledge, most students remained content to sit at the feet (1:14). Franklin, throughout his life, was undoubtedly someone who strived to push himself and learn as much as possible, as evidenced by his success in widely disparate fields. Perhaps more accurately, the piece represents the difficulties faced when someone tries to ‘pull themselves up by the bootstraps’ as Franklin did. Even though he was able to, he recognizes that financial burdens often prohibit bright children of poverty from entering institutions of higher education in which they would learn the necessary skills to escape their social class. Furthermore, even if they are able to attend these schools, some of the most useful (in Franklin’s estimation) skills may not be taught, as seen by the “vail’d,” hidden faces of Greek, Latin, and Hebrew (1:14).

As a critique of a contemporary institution always is, the Silence Dogood letter is skeptical of the hierarchical nature of higher education. As mentioned above, he levels a myriad of critiques on the nature of social class prohibiting bright students and the subject matter being taught. There is a quick jab at the paper he published in, The New-England Courant, as the corrupt queen of education is preparing that document. But most shocking is the twist at the end, like the Polly Baker speech, semi-satirical: “to him I related my Dream with all its Particulars, and he, without much Study, presently interpreted it, assuring me, That it was a lively Representation of HARVARD COLLEGE.” (1:14). Directly lampooning the most well-known and prestigious college in New England at the time can quite obviously be read as a political and subversive act, undoubtedly one that Franklin needed to hide behind a pseudonym to avoid retribution for.

While Poor Richard’s Almanac was less subversive than the previous two examples, it is by far the most prolific of Franklin’s pseudonym works, with nearly 10,000 copies being sold each printing. Mostly the books consisted of the same information as our modern almanacs, along with some inventive word games, poems, and other fun oddities inserted by Franklin. Still, the choice of an informational almanac would allow others to do as Franklin had done, and lead a self-determined life, armed with the knowledge they needed. He was providing a public service to help people like him. In the 1736 edition, ‘Saunders’ cautions against idleness, just as in the Silence Dogood letters, in the form of a little poem: “See he consumes his Money, Time and Health,/In drunken Frolicks which will all confound,/Neglects his Farm, forgets to till his Ground,” (POBF 2:141). He also includes precepts such as “A life of leisure, and a life of laziness, are two things,” (Almanack 535), which again echo the hardworking sentiments found throughout these works.

Since the almanacs are not exactly a political document in the way that the previous published letters are, it is difficult to call them a challenge of authority. But, as ever, Franklin’s witticism as quips run through the works, with anti-authoritarian statements like “The royal crown cures not the head-ache.” (Almanack 535). Even the simple act of disseminating public knowledge in this way can be considered a political act during a period when knowledge was confined to the corrupt institutes of higher education that Franklin despised.

Benjamin Franklin was inarguably a fascinating figure who only becomes more interesting through research. These ‘disguises’ strike one as strangely idiosyncratic and odd for a man who we revere today. There was a time at which Franklin was not the historical figure he is remembered as and was merely an aspiring printer and politician. He first published the almanacs at age 27 in an attempt to make his own way to wealth after a number of similar printing schemes, so perhaps he used the pseudonym to protect his identity from further shame. Whatever the reason for his penchant, Franklin’s alter-egos provide endless fodder for analysis, especially in light of a feminist perspective, which is sadly out of the scope for this paper. The spirit of anonymous criticism, in which a country housewife, or a poor almanac-writer having just as much of a right to critique government as a wealthy printer and politician, is central to the ideas of the republic later embodied in the revolution. Thus, it can be said that Franklin’s works were a precursor to his works as a Founding Father, to which we owe the creation of America as we know it.

Works Cited

Franklin, Benjamin. "Packard Humanities Institute: The Papers of Benjamin Franklin." Packard Humanities Institute: The Papers of Benjamin Franklin. N.p., n.d.http://franklinpapers.org/franklin//framedVolumes.jsp?vol=3&page=120a.

Franklin, Benjamin. Poor Richard's almanack. Waterloo, Iowa: U.S.C. Pub. Co., 1914.

Shalev, Eran. "Ancient Masks, American Fathers: Classical Pseudonyms during the American Revolution and Early Republic."Journal of the Early Republic 23.2 (2003): 151-172.