By Jim O’Neal
“Everything that can be invented has been invented.”
Thus begins a long-time misattribution to Charles Duell, commissioner of the United States Patent and Trademark Office (1898-1901). Researchers have confirmed that the actual source is the June 1899 edition of the humor magazine Punch. In colloquy, a genius asks, “Isn’t there a clerk who can examine patents?” and a boy replies, “Quite unnecessary, sir. Everything that can be invented has been invented.”
One man who definitely didn’t share that view was Benjamin Franklin. Although he was entranced by the discoveries of his day, he regretted having been born too soon. He missed “the happiness of knowing what will be known 100 years hence.” He wrote that by then, there would be “discoveries made of which we have at present no conception.” He was obviously correct about that, having been born very early in the 18th century (1706) and here we are 300 years later still astonished by a continuous flow of remarkable discoveries.
However, for a few of us there is a tinge of regret for being born too late to enjoy his company. A true polymath, Franklin was a pioneering scientist, best-selling author, printer, bon vivant, inventor, political theorist, diplomat, the country’s first postmaster general, and the most prominent celebrity of the 18th century (whew!).
He was also a man of vast contradictions. As a reluctant revolutionary, Franklin desperately wished to preserve the British Empire, and he mourned the break even as he led the fight for American independence. Despite his passion for science, he viewed his groundbreaking experiments as secondary to his civic duties. And although he helped draft both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, in his heart he hoped that the new American government would take a different form. This paradox stems from being the rare individual who consistently placed public interest above personal desires.
He is a delight for historians, since writing was his favorite mode of communication and he saved most of the letters he received… while others did the same with his highly valued correspondence. Then there is the autobiography that covers his first 52 years of public and private life; his remaining 32 years are intertwined with historic events. It is little wonder that his name keeps popping up so often yet today.
If he had a blind spot it was over the issue of race. For a man who saw himself as an Englishman living in America, he had grand thoughts about a glorious future for both Britain and America (only). Even without further immigration, America’s population was doubling every 20 years and “will in another century be more than the people of England, and the greatest number of Englishman will be on this side of the water.” If even more English came over, so much the better. But why allow anyone else to come?
“Why should Pennsylvania, founded by the English, become a colony of aliens, who will shortly be so numerous as to Germanize us instead of our Anglifying them, and will never adopt our language or customs, any more than they can acquire our complexion.” Franklin’s view, from a 1751 essay, was as politically incorrect then as it would be today. But, he went even further in what now would be called “ethnocentric.” He wanted to keep out not only Germans, but everyone except the English.
However, always the realist, he offered a wistful apology. “But perhaps I am partial to the complexion of my country, for such kind of partiality is natural to mankind.”
Perhaps when time travel is practical, he will get a glimpse of all the wonders in the modern world that we take for granted too often. He will be one happy man… and I hope to be around to hear what he says.
Intelligent Collector blogger JIM O’NEAL is an avid collector and history buff. He is president and CEO of Frito-Lay International [retired] and earlier served as chair and CEO of PepsiCo Restaurants International [KFC Pizza Hut and Taco Bell].