In the 1850s, Thomas Mellon, who would go on to found Mellon Bank and amass one of America’s great fortunes, called reading Franklin’s autobiography “the turning point of my life.” If Franklin could climb from poverty to wisdom, wealth, and fame through industry and thrift, so could he. Mellon followed that path, built an empire, and left a legacy that still echoes in Carnegie Mellon University.
This pattern repeats. Charlie Munger called Franklin his personal hero. Elon Musk credits Franklin’s autobiography and Isaacson’s biography as more important than business books. When asked how he learned to build companies, Musk said: “I read biographies.” Franklin’s most of all.
Why does Benjamin Franklin, dead for over 200 years, still inspire the world’s most ambitious people?
After finishing Isaacson’s 500-page biography, I think the answer is simple: Franklin left us an instruction manual. Most historical figures force biographers to extract lessons from their actions. Franklin wrote down the system he used to build himself. And what makes it remarkable is that he wasn’t just self-made financially. He was literally self-constructed in almost every respect.
The 13 Virtue System
At age 20, Franklin created a moral improvement system that he followed for decades. He identified 13 virtues he wanted to embody:
Temperance: Eat not to dullness, drink not to elevation
Silence: Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself
Order: Let all things have their places, let each part of your business have its time
Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought, perform without fail what you resolve
Frugality: Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself, waste nothing
Industry: Lose no time, be always employed in something useful
Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit
Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries or omitting the benefits that are your duty
Moderation: Avoid extremes
Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes or habitation
Tranquility: Be not disturbed at trifles or at accidents common or unavoidable
Chastity: Rarely use venery but for health or offspring
Humility: Imitate Jesus and Socrates
He made a physical notebook, divided into seven columns for days of the week and 13 rows for the virtues. Every evening he marked faults he committed, focusing on one virtue each week while tracking all of them. After 13 weeks, he cycled through again.
By sticking with his system for decades, Franklin showed that character is not fixed but plastic. It can be molded through daily practice and deliberate effort.
Following Your Drift
Franklin’s scientific career began with simple curiosity. He studied whatever caught his attention: heat, ocean currents, weather patterns. Long before he turned to electricity, he was experimenting and observing on his own.
That curiosity eventually focused on electricity. What began as sideshow demonstrations, Franklin transformed into serious science. His invention of the lightning rod alone saved thousands of lives. In Germany, more than ten churches a year burned down from lightning strikes before it.
When critics asked what use his electrical experiments had, Franklin replied with a smile, “What is the use of a newborn baby?” His point was simple. Potential doesn’t need to be obvious right away.
This principle ran through Franklin’s life. He was at once a scientist, writer, diplomat, and politician. To David Hume he was a philosopher. To most he was a scientist or statesman. To himself, he was always a printer, even after retiring at 42.
Charlie Munger once said, “If you can’t somehow find yourself very interested in something, I don’t think you’ll succeed very much, even if you’re fairly smart.” Franklin embodied that. He followed interesting problems, surrounded himself with fascinating people, and built skills that compounded. That drift carried him further than any fixed plan ever could.
Industry and Frugality
Everyone knows Franklin’s aphorisms: “Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” “A penny saved is a penny earned.”
These lines sound like the philosophy of someone obsessed with wealth creation and accumulation. In reality, Franklin retired at 42 with enough income to live freely, then devoted himself to what mattered most to him: reading, studying, experimenting, and serving the public good.
“I would rather have it said he lived usefully than he died rich,” he wrote. He even refused patents on his inventions, including the lightning rod. “As we enjoy great advantages from the inventions of others, we should be glad of an opportunity to serve others by any invention of ours, and this we should do freely and generously.”
Franklin put it plainly: “It is hard for an empty sack to stand upright.” Industry and frugality were never the goal. They were the foundation. What mattered was the freedom they created, the freedom to pursue meaning and service.
Practical Over Theoretical
Franklin treated every domain as an experiment. In science, he “found electricity a curiosity and left it a science.” In politics, he said, “We are making experiments in politics.” His method was the same everywhere: try things, see what works, and revise.
At the Constitutional Convention, Franklin was the oldest delegate at 81. In his final speech he embodied the American spirit of disagreement without paralysis: “I do not entirely approve of this Constitution at present. But… having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged by better information or fuller consideration to change opinions even on important subjects which I once thought right but found to be otherwise.”
It was humility, but also principle. The belief that a nation could endure through compromise and correction.
The Middling People
Franklin always saw himself as one of the tradesmen, shopkeepers, farmers, and artisans who formed America’s emerging middle class. Even after becoming internationally famous, he signed letters “B. Franklin, printer.”
His vision for America was enabling their success. He wanted everyone to have the tools to prosper through diligence, hard work, virtue, and ambition.
This came through clearly when he wrote Proposals Relating to the Education of Youth in Pensilvania in 1749, laying out his plan for what became the University of Pennsylvania. He argued for practical education over classical learning. Students should study subjects they could actually use. Education should be shorter, cheaper, and more hands-on. Learn by doing rather than just listening to lectures.
One of the sad facts is that the modern university has often drifted away from that vision. UPenn today has become part of the same elite credentialing system Franklin opposed, built more on signaling and barriers to entry than on mass opportunity.
What Franklin wanted was straightforward. A society where a poor kid could rise through talent and effort. We should celebrate entrepreneurs over aristocrats. Practical education over classical. The ability to serve over the ability to signal.
The Blueprint
Few figures in history show so clearly how a life can be constructed. Franklin proved that character can be shaped, knowledge expanded, wealth earned and then set aside, and opportunity widened for others. He didn’t just live greatly. He left the blueprint.