The Quintessential American: Ben Franklin, Man of All Ages

Exceptional humans tend to emerge in unexpected places. Though few in pedigree-conscious sixteenth century Europe would have believed that humble birth was no barrier to genius, Florence gave the world Leonardo. A century later, the New World too followed suit, when the youngest of several sons born to an impecunious candlemaker, the autodidact Benjamin Franklin, was to become an “.” These two colossal historic figures were strikingly similar: endlessly curious inventors, polymaths, humanists mesmerized by the star-filled universe, both were convinced of heavenly perfection.  Just as the former personified the best of his age, so too did the latter, who at once defined and defied his own. The eponymous Renaissance man more than met his equal in our famous Founder.

But there was a difference. While the great painter could capture the ambiguity of a smile with breathtaking perfection and still sketch the outlines of a flying machine, the Bostonian diplomat-scientist harnessed the thunder of Jehovah and launched a working democracy by invoking His divine paternity of all humans. Poor Italy had to wait another two centuries after Leonardo’s death to be unified. And not until 1947, after being ravaged by fascismo, would it finally adopt a modern constitution, whose prototype had been fashioned as early as 1789 by none other than Franklin, alongside an extraordinary band of fellow Americans.

That hallowed document had been based on the idea that all humans are endowed by their Creator with unalienable rights, which Franklin called a self-evident principle. He thus replaced Thomas Jefferson’s original epithet of “sacred,” perhaps to prevent its misuse. Franklin may have feared it might restrict confessional disparities in a manner contrary to the nation’s nonsectarian vision. The Declaration of Independence, as America’s covenantal creed, was rooted in centuries of biblical tradition, common sense, and experience. Harboring no doubt of its righteousness, in 1776, Franklin joined 55 other patriots in signing the parchment unhesitatingly, despite being fully aware of committing treason against the British king.

Perhaps he felt that providence was smiling at America, and he probably winked back. Although he had just turned 70, he felt ready to take on the challenge of transforming the dream into reality. Would he have imagined that America would be toasting its 250^th anniversary? But of course he would; of all the Founders, none would have been less surprised. As he wrote in his, “America will, with God’s blessing, become a great and happy country.”  Knowing that “[t]here are two sorts of people in the world, who with equal degrees of health and wealth, become the one happy, the other unhappy,” he avoided the latter who “think and speak only of the contraries” — precursors to present-day dialectical haters.