Readers may not be aware that one of the meanings of the word levee is an assemblage of visitors before a sovereign.  It was in this sense of the word that Benjamin Franklin composed a short but pointed commentary on an Old Testament parable from the Book of Job, which he entitled “The Levee.” 

The piece was apparently composed before 1784, but an exact date is unavailable.  Franklin’s grandson, William Temple Franklin, writes that it was “chiefly written by Dr. Franklin for the amusement of his intimate society in London and Paris.”  It will first be necessary for us to summarize with brevity the parable contained in the Book of Job’s first chapter.

There was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job.  He prospered in his worldly affairs, and was able to accumulate livestock, various articles of property, and a contented family.  “Now there came a day,” says the text, “when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came also among them.”  When the Lord asked Satan where he came from, Satan responded with characteristic duplicity and evasion:  “From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.” 

The Lord asked Satan what he thought of “my servant Job,” noting Job’s good conduct, moral rectitude, and prosperity.  But Satan, always eager to plant the seeds of calumny and resentment into any receptive heart, used the opportunity to cast aspersions on Job’s character.  He essentially responded by saying that, although the Lord had blessed Job with good fortune and prosperity, Job’s loyalty to God was only a charade.  “But put forth thine hand now,” Satan said, “and touch all that he hath and he will curse thee to thy face.”  In other words, if God were to take away all Job’s possessions, He would then see the real Job:  a man whose faith was only strong insofar as his external fortune remained intact.

So the Lord told Satan that he was free to ruin Job, and destroy all that he had acquired.  His only stipulation was that Satan not harm Job physically:  “only upon himself put not forth thine hand.”  Satan gladly complied with this rather sadistic test imposed on poor Job.  His family and possessions were brutally taken from him.  To the surprise of everyone, however, Job took all of this misfortune with philosophic resignation, and never uttered a curse on the name of God:  “Naked I came out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return hither; the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”   

Such is the tale of Job.  Franklin, however, did not see this parable as a test of faith.  He first notes the nature of levees, and how they inspire the worst type of gossip, backbiting, and calumny among courtiers:

It is to this day usual, at the levees of princes, to have persons assembled who are enemies to each other, who seek to obtain favor by whispering calumny and detraction, and thereby ruining those that distinguish themselves by their virtue and merit.  And kings frequently ask a familiar question or two, of every one in the circle, merely to show their benignity.  These circumstances are particularly exemplified in this relation…

Thus Satan, being asked whence he cometh, answers, “From going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it.”  And being further asked, whether he had considered the upright ness and fidelity of the prince’s servant Job, he immediately displays all the malignance of the designing courtier, by answering with another question:  “Doth Job serve God for naught?  Hast thou not given him immense wealth, and protected him in the possession of it?  Deprive him of that, and he will curse thee to thy face.”  In modern phrase, “Take away his places and his pensions, and your Majesty will soon find him in the opposition.”  This whisper against Job had its effect.  He was delivered into the power of his adversary, who deprived him of his fortune, destroyed his family, and completely ruined him.

Franklin, having served for years as a diplomat before the French court, and having had additional experience with the centers of governmental power in London, certainly knew much about court politics and gamesmanship.  For him, the parable of Job meant something very different from its conventional interpretation.  What did it mean?  Franklin descants as follows: 

Trust not a single person with the government of your state.  For if the Deity himself, being the monarch, may for a time give way to calumny, and suffer it to operate the destruction of the best of subjects; what mischief may you not expect from such power in a mere man, though the best of men, from whom the truth is often industriously hidden, and to whom falsehood is often presented in its place, by artful, interested, and malicious courtiers?  

And be cautious in trusting him even with limited powers, lest sooner or later he sap and destroy those limits, and render himself absolute.  For by the disposal of places, he attaches to himself all the placeholders, with their numerous connexions, and also all the expecters and hopers of places, which will form a strong party in promoting his views.  By various political engagements for the interest of neighbouring states or princes, he procures their aid in establishing his own personal power.  So that, through the hopes of emolument in one part of his subjects, and the fear of his resentment in the other, all opposition falls before him.

This is a compelling and prescient warning of the perils inherent in aggregations of power.  For if God himself, says Franklin, is able to be swayed by vituperative lies against his best subject, what can we expect from a mere mortal sovereign, often compelled to rely on incomplete or biased information supplied by others?  Even limited powers must be granted with care; for a cunning prince, aided by venal and unscrupulous minions, will know how to erode the checks and balances erected as limits to his authority. 

To this I would add something else.  Since Franklin’s era, the potential for abuses of power has risen exponentially.  Modern technologies in the service of corporate or governmental interests have achieved frightening levels of ruthlessness and reach.  Today’s mechanisms of population control dwarf anything contemplated in 1784.  We must enlarge the scope of Franklin’s warning.  Not only must we not trust a single person with the reins of government, we must also never allow it to fall into the hands, or under the opprobrious control, of any one interest or agenda.      

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Read more on moral topics in the new, annotated translation of Cicero’s On Moral Ends:

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