Welcome to the Deep Dive, where we take your
complex sources, dismantle the information overload,
and hand you the key insights you need. Today,
we have a magnificent stack of sources here,
tracing a life that spanned nearly the entire
18th century. And we're not just discussing a
single founding father or, you know, just a famous
inventor. We are diving into a human operating
system, a man whose life was a relentless pursuit
of applied knowledge and civic improvement, setting
the fundamental template for American ingenuity.
We are talking, of course, about the quintessential
polymath, the original first American, Benjamin
Franklin. And the sources, I mean, they contain
a staggering collection of biographical, scientific,
political details. It really does feel like the
accomplishments of three different people were
packed into one career. That's the central mystery,
isn't it? Our mission today is to try and figure
out how. How did Franklin manage to define the
American ethos and become, well, maybe the most
accomplished and influential person of his age?
Right. And we're going to focus on his intellectual
agility and critically his unyielding commitment
to immediately applying knowledge for practical
public good. To really get the scope, you have
to look at the documents. I mean, just think
about the most foundational political texts in
American history. OK, so let's start there. Franklin
holds a status that, well, no other individual
can claim. He is the only person to sign three
absolute cornerstones of American history. Not
just any three. The Declaration of Independence.
The Treaty of Paris in 1783, which formally ended
the war with Great Britain. And the U .S. Constitution.
It's an unparalleled legacy. He was there at
the beginning, the middle, and the end of the
founding moment. And his renown wasn't just domestic.
It was instantaneous and global. We see this
recognition immediately, especially from Europe.
Absolutely. There's that famous acclamation from
the French economist, It was just seven words,
but it captured everything. He snatched lightning
from the sky and the scepter from tyrants. That
quote is just so powerful because it perfectly
articulates his dual identity, doesn't it? It
really does. The scientist who literally mastered
natural forces and the statesman who mastered
political ones. And that recognition cemented
his title as the first American. It wasn't just
an honor they gave him later. He earned it during
his lifetime by campaigning for colonial unity
long before independence was even a thought.
Right. He spent decades laying the groundwork,
establishing communication, organization, a shared
moral language. So we're tracing this incredible
journey. It starts with, you know, this self
-made success in media, moves into groundbreaking
scientific inquiry, then critical revolutionary
diplomacy. And it all culminates in this complex,
evolving moral and political outlook. Precisely.
Let's start with the narrative that really defined
him, the self -made man. Benjamin Franklin was
born in Boston in 1706, and the sources all emphasize
his incredibly humble origins, which is just
so critical to the American ideal he came to
represent. He was the 15th of 17 children. His
father, Josiah, was a tallow chandler and soaper.
15 of 17. Just imagine that. The financial pressure
on that family must have been immense. Oh, absolutely.
And that directly defined his access to formal
education, which was, well, it was exceptionally
brief. He only managed two years at Boston Latin
School. His formal schooling ended at age 10.
10 years old. It's astonishing when you consider
the intellectual depth he later achieved. So
his real education wasn't formal at all. It was
fueled by what the sources call voracious reading.
And at 12, he was apprenticed to his half -brother
James, who was a printer. And that turned out
to be the most consequential move of his life.
It was his entry point into the world of public
influence. And he famously embraced that trade
his whole life, didn't he? Even signing letters
B. Franklin, printer, long after he was world
famous. It spoke to his identity as a practical
artisan. It was during this apprenticeship that
he discovered the power of the pseudonym, which
brings us to the famous tale of Silence Duguid.
Right. So his brother, James, had started the
New England Current. It was a pretty edgy paper
for its time. And young Benjamin desperately
wanted to contribute, but he knew James would
never publish essays from his little brother.
So what does a brilliant, ambitious teenager
do? He creates a persona. Silence Duguid, a clever,
middle -aged widow. He'd secretly slip her letters
under the door of the print shop at night. And
they were an instant hit. A sensation. The voice
of Mrs. Duguid was witty, sophisticated. She
was critiquing society, politics, education.
And of course, no one had any idea the popular
new correspondent was the 16 -year -old apprentice
setting the type. A perfect early lesson in narrative
control. But it quickly moved beyond social satire
into some pretty serious political commentary,
which led to a genuine crisis. Yes, in 1722,
James, the brother, was actually jailed for publishing
material that was unflattering to the governor.
a direct attack on press freedom. So young Franklin
takes over the paper. He does. And he immediately
doubles down. He publishes that incredibly prescient
quote through Mrs. Duguid, which was originally
from Cato's letters. Without freedom of thought,
there can be no such thing as wisdom and no such
thing as public liberty without freedom of speech.
That's the foundation of the First Amendment
right there, articulated by a teenager running
a newspaper. It's incredible. But when his brother
was released and then found out the truth about
Silence Duguid, things got... Poisoned is the
word. James was furious. So at 17, Franklin fled
his apprenticeship. He ran away to Philadelphia,
which technically made him a fugitive from his
contract. He was willing to become a fugitive
to escape that environment. That just shows you
his drive for autonomy. And once he got to Philadelphia,
he didn't just look for work. He immediately
started organizing the community. This is where
his legacy as a civic innovator really begins.
At just 21 in 1727, he forms the Junto. The Junto.
It was this discussion group modeled on English
coffee houses. But it wasn't just for talking.
It was aimed at concrete community betterment.
The members were all aspiring artisans and tradesmen
like him. They were systematically identifying
problems. They'd ask questions like, what new
defect has been observed in the laws? Or, have
you lately observed any encroachment on the just
liberties of the people? And that systematic
approach led directly to one of his most radical
innovations, the library company, in 1731. Right.
The Yuntong members, they were ambitious, but
they were poor. Books were a luxury. So Franklin
came up with the idea of a subscription model.
Instead of relying on a wealthy patron, the members
would pool their money to buy books for everyone
to share. It was a revolutionary concept, a self
-sustaining, democratized resource for knowledge.
And it became the model for libraries all across
the colonies. And the list of institutions he
created in Philadelphia is just staggering. He
started the Union Fire Company in 1736. America's
first volunteer fire department. Then the first
homeowner's insurance company in 1752. And in
1751, he co -founded Pennsylvania Hospital. The
very first hospital in the American colonies.
He was literally building the infrastructure
of civil society from the ground up all through
voluntary association. And the engine for all
this was his dominance in print. He became publisher
of the Pennsylvania Gazette in 1729, and he used
it as a platform for all these reforms. But his
greatest fame in print, of course, came from
poor Richard's almanac. Which he wrote under
another pseudonym, Richard Saunders. The almanac,
starting in 1733, became a colonial institution.
It was in nearly every home selling, you know,
upwards of 10 ,000 copies a year. And it was
so much more than just weather predictions. It
was a Trojan horse for moral instruction. Exactly.
It was the source of all those famous adages
that really cemented the American cultural emphasis
on thrift and industry. A penny saved is two
pence dear. Early to bed and early to rise makes
a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. He was effectively
publishing a yearly self -help manual, shaping
the virtues of the entire colonial middle class.
And his printing business itself was a network.
He didn't just run one shop. No. He created America's
first newspaper chain. He'd sponsor young printers,
set them up with equipment in other colonies
in exchange for a share of the profits. By 1753,
he held partnerships in eight of the 15 English
-language newspapers in the colonies, from the
Carolinas all the way to New England. It's also
crucial to mention figures like Elizabeth Timothy.
When her husband, Franklin's partner in Charleston,
died, he worked with her to take over the South
Carolina Gazette. She ran it successfully, becoming
one of the first woman printers of the era. This
network was just a brilliant blend of business
and influence, spreading his philosophy across
the continent. And that success led him into
politics. He served as chief clerk of the Pennsylvania
Assembly. And then most crucially, he was appointed
deputy postmaster general of British North America
in 1753. A notoriously inefficient and slow service
at the time. Oh, a total mess. And Franklin just
completely reorganized it. He took the job seriously.
He physically surveyed the routes, traveling
thousands of miles. He redid the entire accounting
system. And he mandated regular scheduled mail
service between the major cities. Exactly. He
professionalized it. And the results were historic.
By 1761, the colonial post office turned its
first ever profit. So in effect, he created the
first national communications network. He was
literally connecting the colonies, which is a
perfect bridge to the next part of his life.
The part that earned him the first half of Turgot's
famous, quote, snatching lightning from the sky.
His breathtakingly practical scientific endeavors.
What's so remarkable is that this was a conscious
career change. In 1747, at age 41, he was already
wealthy from his print network, so he just retired
from the daily business to focus on science.
And a crucial point about his ethics. He never
patented a single one of his inventions. He wrote
that since we enjoy great advantages from the
inventions of others, we should be glad of an
opportunity to serve others freely and generously.
Knowledge was a public resource. And his contributions
to electricity were fundamental. They really
positioned him as a major figure in the American
Enlightenment. I mean, his most lasting contribution
wasn't even an invention. It was a linguistic
and theoretical clarification. At the time, physicists
talked about vitreous and resinous electricity,
two different types of electrical fluid. Sounds
incredibly confusing. It was chaos. Franklin
simplified it. He argued it was a single fluid
and these different states were just an imbalance,
an excess or a deficiency. He called them elegantly.
positive and negative and that's the terminology
we still use today it replaced the old models
overnight and from that came the principle of
the conservation of charge the idea that you
can't create or destroy charge only move it around
and in 1748 he built that electrical battery
which was uh a multiple plate capacitor for storing
charge. It was the ultimate application of systematic
thinking, a printer's mind bringing order to
the laws of nature. Speaking of application,
we have to talk about the bizarre anecdote about
the dinner party. Ah, the electric turkey. It's
a remarkable, if slightly gruesome, story. Franklin
proposed a dinner party where the turkey would
be killed via electric shock and roasted on an
electrical spit. Wait, he used electricity to
tenderize the meat? That was the claim. He noted
that... The birds killed in this manner eat uncommonly
tender. It just shows he saw electricity not
as some abstract force, but as something to be
harnessed for, well, even culinary applications.
He was a very hands -on experimenter. Which brings
us to the most famous and maybe most dangerous
experiment of the 18th century. The kite and
the lightning rod. The kite experiment in 1752
was monumental. He theorized that lightning was
electrical and he needed to prove it. But the
way people imagine it, with a lightning bolt
hitting the kite, is totally wrong. Right. Completely.
He would have been killed. He was incredibly
cautious. He stood on an insulator under a roof
to stay dry. The kite wasn't meant to attract
a bolt, just to fly high enough for the wet twine
to collect the ambient electrical charge from
the storm cloud. And he touched a key to the
twine and saw a spark. Exactly. That proved the
connection. And the practical outcome was the
invention of the lightning rod. a sharp, pointed
conductor designed to silently draw the electrical
charge from the clouds and conduct it safely
into the ground. For colonial cities full of
wooden buildings, that must have been a revolution
in safety. An immediate success. It was installed
on buildings like Independence Hall right away,
and this is what earned him formal recognition.
He was awarded the Royal Society's Copley Medal
in 1753 and became a fellow in 1756. This is
why he was often addressed as Dr. Franklin. And
his systematic mind didn't stop there. He essentially
pioneered American oceanography. Right. From
his work as postmaster, he learned that the British
mail ships took weeks longer to cross the Atlantic
than merchant ships. And the British captains
just chalked it up to bad luck. They did. But
Franklin, being Franklin, had to solve the problem.
He consulted his cousin, a Nantucket whaler,
who told him the mail ships were sailing directly
against a strong eastbound current. So Franklin
mapped it. He charted and named it the Gulf Stream.
He published the chart, but the British captains
ignored it at first. It wasn't until the Revolution,
when they desperately needed faster communication,
that they finally adopted it. They cut two weeks
off their sailing time. a massive strategic advantage,
all from applying scientific rigor to local knowledge.
He also did key work on cooling by evaporation
after noticing he stayed cooler in a wet shirt.
Right. He conducted sophisticated experiments
with ether evaporation, chilling a thermometer
down to seven degrees Fahrenheit. Which led him
to that unsettling speculation about being able
to. To freeze a man to death on a warm summer's
day. It wasn't a goal, just an illustration of
the potential power of applied science. And he
had so many other practical inventions. Bifocals,
the flexible urinary catheter. And the glass
harmonica, a musical instrument he engineered
from spinning glass bowls. It became incredibly
popular. Composers like Mozart and Beethoven
actually wrote music for it. It just shows how
he bridged rigorous science and high culture.
And before moving to his political life, we have
to touch on his work in demography, which had
huge political repercussions. Yes. In 1751, he
published observations concerning the increase
of mankind. It was pure data analysis. He calculated
that the American population was doubling every
20 years. Which was alarming to the British.
Deeply alarming. He predicted that the American
population would surpass England's within a century.
It was a key data point that influenced thinkers
like Adam Smith and Thomas Malthus. He was using
demographics as a tool of political warning.
And that moves us perfectly into the next phase
of his life. The statesman. The narrative shifts
dramatically in 1757 when he goes to London as
a colonial agent. He starts as a loyalist and
ends as a revolutionary. What happened? He spent
nearly two decades trying to work within the
British system. His high point was testifying
before the House of Commons during the repeal
of the Stamp Act in 1766. He became a hero in
the colonies, the leading spokesman for American
interests. He genuinely believed a deal could
be worked out. He did, but the relationship was
just fundamentally unequal. And the breaking
point was the affair of the Hutchinson letters
in 1772. He obtained these private letters from
the royal governor of Massachusetts, Thomas Hutchinson.
And they were devastating. They showed that these
high ranking colonial officials were actively
encouraging the British to crack down militarily
and abolish colonial liberties. They were plotting
against their own people. So he leaked them.
He felt he had a moral duty to expose the duplicity.
It was a massive political gamble and he knew
the British government would retaliate. And they
did with that incredibly dramatic public humiliation.
Pure political theater. In January 1774, he was
summoned before the Privy Council in the cockpit
at Whitehall. He was forced to stand silently
for nearly an hour while the Solicitor General,
Alexander Wedderburn, just verbally abused him.
Called him a thief, a spy. A man of letters,
indeed. The author of Sedition. Franklin just
stood there motionless. He said later it was
the greatest indignity that was ever offered
to a gentleman. And that was it. That was the
moment he became a revolutionary. That public
shaming and his dismissal as postmaster general
ended any hope of accommodation. He returned
to Philadelphia in 1775, a changed man. He arrived
just after Lexington and Concord and was immediately
chosen as a delegate to the Second Continental
Congress. And a year later, at 70 years old,
he was on the committee of five that drafted
the Declaration of Independence. And he made
that small but crucial change to Jefferson's
text? Yes. Jefferson had written, We hold these
truths to be sacred and undeniable. Franklin,
the man of the Enlightenment, sharpened it to
the immortal. We hold these truths to be self
-evident. A critical shift from religious dogma
to secular reason. His political life culminated
at the Constitutional Convention in 1787. He
was 81, the oldest delegate. His presence alone
lent immense authority to the proceedings. And
of course, he gave us that famous cautious final
pronouncement. When Elizabeth Willing Powell
asked him what kind of government they had created.
A republic, madam, if you can keep it. That warning,
that conditional promise just resonates through
American history. Governance isn't a gift. It's
a perpetual responsibility. But his most critical
service to the revolution wasn't signing documents.
It was securing aid in Europe, the French mission.
Absolutely vital. When he arrived in France in
1776, the American cause was on the brink of
collapse. His job was to convince a monarchy
to side with a democratic rebellion. And he did
it by leveraging his celebrity. Precisely. He
consciously cultivated an image. He wasn't a
stiff diplomat. He was the wise homespun philosopher
scientist. He wore a simple fur hat instead of
a powdered wig. And Paris adored him for it.
They did. He was a sensation. And he used that
massive prestige to secure the critical military
alliance in 1778, which ultimately guaranteed
American victory. He was effectively America's
first and most successful ambassador. And while
he was there, he still found time for science.
He served on that royal commission investigating
Franz Mesmer. Mesmer's animal magnetism, a medical
craze sweeping Europe. The French king tasked
a commission, including Franklin, to investigate.
And their methods were groundbreaking. They used
rigorous, controlled, and for the first time,
blinded testing. And they concluded that Mesmer's
effects were not due to some mystical fluid,
but due only to imagination and the power of
suggestion. Which is the first major demonstration
of what we now call the placebo effect. A defining
moment of the Age of Enlightenment. And Franklin
was right at the center of it. He returned home
in 1785, second only to Washington in reputation,
and was immediately elected president, the governor
of Pennsylvania. He served three full terms right
up until 1788. His final political years were
spent ensuring Pennsylvania ratified the Constitution
and working on his last great moral project.
He died in Philadelphia on April 17, 1790, at
age 84. and the turnout for his funeral was just
immense. Something like 20 ,000 people attended,
a massive number for the time. The entire city,
and really the nation, mourned. Which brings
us to the philosophical and ethical core of the
man. How did he structure his personal life,
and how did he grapple with the profound moral
contradictions of his time, especially slavery?
He was raised a Puritan, but as a young man he
adopted deism. He still had a strong faith in
God as a source of morality, but he believed
truth was found through reason and nature, not
dogma. He stressed practical morality. He famously
admired the evangelical minister George Whitefield,
not for his theology, but because Whitefield
exhorted people to worship through good works.
He was focused on the utilitarian outcome. Did
it make people better citizens? And this practical
approach is best illustrated by his plan for
personal character development. The 13 Virtues.
It was one of the most famous parts of his autobiography.
At age 20, he created this system to cultivate
his character, aiming for moral perfection. And
it was a system. He created a weekly schedule
focusing on mastering one virtue at a time. Temperance.
Eat not to dullness. Drink not to elevation.
Order. Let all your things have their places.
And humility. Imitate Jesus and Socrates. He
argued that even if he constantly failed, the
attempt itself made him a better man. And he
applied that same systematic thought to his decision
-making in a method we still use today. The pro
and con list. The earliest known description
of it. In a letter, he explained his method.
He wouldn't just list pros and cons. He'd assign
them relative weights and then cross out opposing
motives of equal value until he could see where
the balance lies. A mechanical attempt to eliminate
emotion from moral calculus. Which brings us
to the most difficult moral subject of his life.
And this is a necessary part of the puzzle. In
his early years as a businessman, he was absolutely
complicit. He ran for sale ads for enslaved people
in his paper. He owned at least seven enslaved
individuals himself. He did. But the sources
show a clear, powerful shift in his stance over
time, starting around the late 1750s. His moral
reasoning changed as he engaged with Enlightenment
philosophy and Quaker abolitionists. And this
shift accelerated dramatically after he came
back from France for the last time. He became
an active and vocal abolitionist. He freed his
own remaining slaves. And in 1787, at age 81,
he became the president of the Pennsylvania Abolition
Society, a role he held until his death. And
his final political act was a petition. Just
weeks before his death, he drafted and signed
the first formal petition to the U .S. Congress
calling for the complete abolition of slavery.
His writings from this time, like A Plan for
Improving the Condition of the Free Blacks, argued
for education and full integration. It's one
of the most significant, if complex, parts of
his legacy. He applied his commitment to self
-improvement right to the very end, tackling
the fundamental flaw of the New Republic. And
that desire for long -term improvement extended
even to his will. The famous bequests of a thousand
pounds each to Boston and Philadelphia. placed
on a trust designed to gather interest for 200
years. And by the time the trust matured in 1990,
that initial amount had grown to millions. Philadelphia
used its $2 million for scholarships. Boston
used its nearly $5 million to support the Franklin
Institute of Boston, a trade school, a perfect
echo of his own artisan background. As we close
this deep dive, we come back to the duality of
the man. His grave is so unpretentious, just...
Benjamin and Deborah Franklin. But his famous
proposed epitaph is a work of intellectual art.
He compared his body to the worn cover of a book,
believing his work shall not be wholly lost,
but appear once more in a new and more perfect
edition, corrected and amended by the author.
It's the ultimate statement of Enlightenment
optimism. Franklin was a man who synthesized
everything, publishing and engineering, science
and diplomacy. He saw knowledge not as an abstract
concept, but as a practical tool for self -improvement
and nation building. He never saw science as
something to be confined to an academic tower.
Everything he discovered, he sought to apply
immediately to serve others. And that relentless
focus on application makes his thoughts on the
future so fascinating. He regretted being born
so soon, wishing he could see what science would
achieve. He speculated that we'd lengthen human
lives and maybe even learn to deprive large masses
of their gravity for easy transport. The 18th
century printer was dreaming of anti -gravity.
He was dreaming big, but his ethos was always
clear. Inventions must serve others, freely and
generously. So, given his unique combination
of scientific mind and organizing genius, and
his relentless commitment to solving the world's
problems, we have to ask you, the listener. What
modern challenge would draw Benjamin Franklin's
immediate and full attention today? Would it
be climate change, the rapid spread of misinformation,
which is a direct threat to the civic discourse
he tried to build, or something like deep space
exploration? And more importantly, how would
his combination of scientific genius and civic
organization be applied to tackle that problem
in our time? What society -shaping institution,
the modern equivalent of the Junto or the Library
Company, would he build next to ensure that knowledge
serves? That's the challenge he leaves us with.