A Benjamin Franklin Reader (43 page)

Yours most Affectionately,

B. Franklin

One night in Passy, Franklin was absorbed in a game when the candles flickered out. Refusing to quit, he sent his opponent to find more. The man quickly returned with a surprised look and the news that it was already light outside. Franklin threw open the shutters. “You are right, it is daytime,” he said. “Let’s go to bed.”

The incident was the inspiration for a bagatelle he wrote about his surprise at discovering that the sun rose and poured forth light at six in the morning. By this stage in his life, it should be noted, he no longer shared Poor Richard’s belief in being early to bed and early to rise. This incident led him to conclude that if people would simply get up much earlier, they could save a lot of money on candles. He even included some pseudo-scientific calculations of what could be saved by this “Economical Project” if Parisians during the summer months would shift their sleeping time seven hours earlier.

The essay, which parodied both human habits and scientific treatises, reflected (as did his writings as a youth) the influence of Jonathan Swift. Franklin concluded by bestowing the idea to the public without any request for royalty or reward. “I expect only to have the honor of it,” he declared. He ended up with far more honor than he could have imagined: most histories of the invention of Daylight Savings Time credit the idea to this essay by Franklin, even though he wrote it mockingly and did not come up with the idea of actually shifting clocks by an hour during the summer.

J
OURNAL OF
P
ARIS
, A
PRIL
26, 1784

An Economical Project

Messieurs,

You often entertain us with accounts of new discoveries. Permit me to communicate to the public through your paper, one that has been late made by myself, and which I conceive may be of great utility.

I was the other evening in a grand company, where the new lamp of Messrs. Quinquet and Lange was introduced, and much admired for its splendor; but a general enquiry was made, whether the oil it consumed was not in proportion to the light it afforded, in which case there would be no saving in the use of it. No one present could satisfy us in this point, which all agreed ought to be known, it being a very desirable thing to lessen, if possible, the expense of lighting our apartments, when every other article of family expense was so much augmented.

I was much pleased to see this general concern for economy; for I love economy exceedingly.

I went home, and to bed, three or four hours after midnight, with my head full of the subject. An accidental sudden noise waked me about six in the morning, when I was surprised to find my room filled with light; and I imagined at first that a number of those lamps had been brought into it; but rubbing my eyes I perceived the light came in at the windows. I got up and looked out to see what might be the occasion of it, when I saw the sun just rising above the horizon, from whence he poured his rays plentifully into my chamber, my domestic having negligently omitted the preceding night to close the shutters.

I looked at my watch, which goes very well, and found that it was but six o’clock; and still thinking it something extraordinary that the sun should rise so early, I looked into the almanac, where I found it to be the hour given for his rising on that day. I looked forward too, and found he was to rise still earlier every day till towards the end of June, and that at no time in the year he retarded his rising so long as till eight o’clock. Your readers, who with me have never seen any signs of sunshine before noon, and seldom regard the astronomical part of the almanac, will be as much astonished as I was, when they hear of his rising so early; and especially when I assure them
that he gives light as soon as he rises;
I am convinced of this. I am certain of my fact. One cannot be more certain of any fact. I saw it with my own eyes. And having repeated this observation the three following mornings, I found always precisely the same result.

Yet so it happens, that when I speak of this discovery to others, I can easily perceive by their countenances, though they forbear expressing it in words, that they do not quite believe me. One indeed, who is a learned natural philosopher, has assured me that I must certainly be mistaken as to the circumstance of the light
coming
into my room; for it being well known, as he says, that there could be no light
abroad
at that hour, it follows that none could enter from
without;
and that of consequence my windows being accidentally left open, instead of
letting in the light,
had only served
to let out the darkness;
and he used many ingenious arguments to show me how I might by that means have been deceived. I own that he puzzled me a little, but he did not satisfy me; and the subsequent observations I made, as above-mentioned, confirmed me in my first opinion.

This event has given rise in my mind to several serious and important reflections. I considered that if I had not been awakened so early that morning, I should have slept six hours longer by the light of the sun, and in exchange have lived six hours the following night by candle light; and the latter being a much more expensive light than the former, my love of economy induced me to muster up what little arithmetic I was master of, and to make some calculations, which I shall give you, after observing that utility is, in my opinion, the test of value in matters of invention, and that a discovery which can be applied to no use, or is not good for something, is good for nothing.

I took for the basis of my calculation the supposition that there are 100,000 families in Paris, and that these families consume in the night half a pound of bougies, or candles, per hour. I think this a moderate allowance, taking one family with another, for though I believe some consume less, I know that many consume a great deal more. Then estimating seven hours per day, as the medium quantity between the time of the sun’s rising and ours, he rising during the six following months from six to eight hours before noon; and there being seven hours of course per night in which we burn candles, the account will stand thus:

In the six months between the 20th of March and the 20th of September, there are:

Nights, 183

Hours of each night in which we burn candles, 7

Multiplication gives us for the total number of hours, 1,281

These 1,281 hours, multiplied by 1,000,000, the number of families, give, 128,000,000

One hundred twenty-eight millions and one hundred thousand hours, spent at Paris by candle-light, which at half a pound of wax and tallow per hour, gives the weight of: 64,050,000

Sixty-four millions and fifty thousand of pounds, which, estimating the whole at the medium price of thirty sols the pound, makes the sum of ninety-six millions and seventy-five thousand livres tournois, 96,075,000.

An immense sum! that the city of Paris might save every year, only by the economy of using sun-shine instead of candles.

If it should be said that people are apt to be obstinately attached to old customs, and that it will be difficult to induce them to rise before noon, consequently my discovery can be of but little use; I answer,
nil desperandum,
I believe all who have common sense, as soon as they have learnt from this paper that it is day-light when the sun rises, will contrive to rise with him; and to compel the rest, I would propose the following regulations:

First. Let a tax be laid of a Louis per window, on every window that is provided with shutters to keep out the light of the sun.

Second. Let the same salutary operation of police be made use of to prevent our burning candles that inclined us last winter to be more economical in burning wood; that is, let guards be placed in the shops of all the wax and tallow chandlers, and no family permitted to be supplied with more than one pound of candles per week.

Third. Let guards also be posted to stop all the coaches, &c. that would pass the streets after sun-set, except those of physicians, surgeons, and midwives.

Fourth. Every morning, as soon as the sun rises, let all the bells in every church be set ringing; and if that is not sufficient, let cannon be fired in every street, to wake the sluggards effectually, and make them open their eyes to see their true interest.

All the difficulty will be in the first two or three days; after which the reformation will be as natural and easy, as the present irregularity: for
ce n’est que le premier pas qui coute.
Oblige a man to rise at four in the morning, and it is more than probably he shall go willingly to bed at eight in the evening; and having had eight hours sleep, he will rise more willingly at four the morning following.

But this sum of ninety-six millions and seventy-five thousand livres, is not the whole of what may be saved by my economical project. You may observe, that I have calculated upon only one-half of the year, and much may be saved in the other, though the days are shorter. Besides the immense flock of wax and tallow left unconsumed during the summer, will probably make candles much cheaper for the ensuing winter, and continue cheaper as long as the proposed reformation shall be supported.

For the great benefit of this discovery, thus freely communicated and bestowed by me on the public, I demand neither place, pension, exclusive privilege, or any other reward whatever. I expect only to have the honor of it. And yet I know there are little envious minds who will, as usual, deny me this, and say that my invention was known to the ancients, and perhaps they may bring passages out of old books in proof if it. I will not dispute with these people that the ancients might know the sun would rise at certain hours; they possibly had, as we have, almanacs that predicted it; but it does not follow from thence that they knew
he gave light as soon as he rose.
This is what I claim as my discovery. If the ancients knew it, it must have been long since forgotten, for it certainly was unknown to the moderns, at least to the Parisians, which to prove, I need use but one plain simple argument. They are as well-instructed, judicious, and prudent a people as exist any where in the world, all professing like myself to be lovers of economy; and from the many heavy taxes required from them by the necessities of the state, have surely an abundant reason to be economical. I say it is impossible that so sensible a people, under such circumstances, should have lived so long by the smoky unwholesome and enormously-expensive light of candles, if they had really known that they might have had as much as pure light of the sun for nothing. I am, &c.

An Abonne

The end of the Revolution was, for both men and nations, a season or reconciliation. If America could repair its relationship with Britain, there was hope that Franklin could do so with his son. “Dear and honored father,” William wrote from England that summer. “Ever since the termination of the unhappy contest between Great Britain and America, I have been anxious to write to you, and to endeavor to revive that affectionate intercourse and connection which, until the commencement of the late troubles, had been the pride and happiness of my life.”

It was a noble and plaintive gesture from a son who had, through it all, never said anything bad about his estranged father nor stopped loving him. But William was still a Franklin, and he could not bring himself to admit that he had been in the wrong, nor to apologize. “If I have been mistaken, I cannot help it. It is an error of judgment that the maturest reflection I am capable of cannot rectify; and I verily believe were the same circumstances to occur again tomorrow, my conduct would be exactly similar to what it was.” He offered to come to Paris, if his father did not want to come to England, so they could settle their issues with “a personal interview.”

Franklin’s response revealed his pain, but it also offered some hints of hope. He began by saying he was “glad to find that you desire to revive the affectionate intercourse,” and he even brought himself to add, “it will be agreeable to me.” Yet he immediately segued from love to anger.

T
O
W
ILLIAM
F
RANKLIN
, A
UGUST
16, 1784

Dear Son,

I received your letter of the 22d past, and am glad to find that you desire to revive the affectionate intercourse that formerly existed between us. It will be very agreeable to me. Indeed nothing has ever hurt me so much and affected me with such keen sensations, as to find myself deserted in my old age by my only son; and not only deserted, but to find him taking up arms against me, in a cause wherein my good fame, fortune and life were all at stake.

You conceived, you say, that your duty to your king and regard for your country required this. I ought not to blame you for differing in sentiment with me in public affairs. We are men, all subject to errors. Our opinions are not in our power; they are formed and governed much by circumstances that are often as inexplicable as they are irresistible. Your situation was such that few would have censured your remaining neuter, though
there are natural duties which precede political ones, and cannot be extinguished by them.
This is a disagreeable subject. I drop it. And we will endeavor as you propose mutually to forget what has happened relating to it, as well as we can.

I send your son over to pay his duty to you. You will find him much improved. He is greatly esteemed and beloved in this country, and will make his way anywhere. It is my desire that he should study the law, as a necessary part of knowledge for a public man, and profitable if he should have occasion to practice it. I would have you therefore put into his hands those law-books you have viz. Blackstone, Coke, Bacon, Viner, etc. He will inform you, that he received the letter sent him by Mr. Galloway, and the
paper
it enclosed, safe. On my leaving America I deposited with that friend for you a chest of papers, among which was a manuscript of 9 or 10 volumes relating to manufactures, agriculture, commerce, finance, etc. Which cost me in England about 70 guineas; and eight quire books containing the rough drafts of all my letters while I lived in London. These are missing. I hope you have got them. If not, they are lost. Mr. Vaughan has published in London a volume of what he calls my political works. He proposes a second edition. But as the first was very incomplete, and you had many things that are omitted, for I used to send you sometimes the rough drafts, and sometimes the printed pieces I wrote in London, I have directed him to apply to you for what may be in your power to furnish him with, or to delay his publication till I can be at home again if that may ever happen. I did intend returning this year, but the Congress, instead of giving me leave to do so, have sent me another commission, which will keep me here at least a year longer, and perhaps I may then be too old and feeble to bear the voyage. I am here among a people that love and respect me, a most amiable nation to live with, and perhaps I may conclude to die among them; for my friends in America are dying off one after another, and I have been so long abroad that I should now be almost a stranger in my own country. I shall be glad to see you when convenient, but would not have you come here at present. You may confide to your son the family affairs you wished to confer upon with me, for he is discreet. And I trust that you will prudently avoid introducing him to company that it may be improper for him to be seen with. I shall hear from you by him, and any letters to me afterwards, will come safe, under cover directed to Mr. Ferdinand Grand, Banker at Paris.

Wishing you Health, and more Happiness than it seems you have lately experienced, I remain,

Your affectionate Father,

B. Franklin