Ben and Me: An Astonishing Life of Benjamin Franklin by His Good Mouse Amos

“Since the recent death of my lamented friend and patron Ben Franklin, many so-called historians have attempted to write accounts of his life and his achievements. Most of these are wrong in so many respects that I feel the time has now come for me to take pen in paw and set things right.”

This line helps to establish the success of the public persona Ben builds as well as characterize Amos. Earlier in his life, Amos told Ben that “fame and honors are nothing” (16) to him and permitted Ben to take full credit for the Franklin Stove. Years later, however, when Amos writes this narrative, he wants to “set things right,” as he says. Perhaps he is tired of receiving no credit, and his pride compels him to “see justice done” (2), though Ben is not alive to refute these claims. This line establishes an ambiguity in Amos’s character because his desire to tell the truth contradicts his earlier complacency regarding who gets “credit” for Ben’s achievements.

“We were driven to eating prayer-books, and when those gave out we took to the Minister’s sermons. That was, for me, the final straw. The prayer-books were tough, but those sermons!”

The novel is set during the Enlightenment era, which includes a suspicion of religion because the existence of a God could not be empirically proven. Amos suggests that the prayer books his family had to eat were tough and dry, but the minister’s sermons were even worse, figuratively suggesting Amos’s belief in logic and humanism, as opposed to religion or religious morality. Religious works are, literally, hard for him to swallow, implying that he does not agree with them ideologically, another sign of the novel’s setting.

“Of course I recognized him. Everyone in Philadelphia knew the great Doctor Benjamin Franklin, scientist, inventor, printer, editor, author, soldier, statesman and philosopher.”

This line establishes Ben’s public persona and his many notable achievements and roles, all rather ironic given his abilities and personality, as described by Amos. In the text, Ben rarely invents or enjoys diplomatic success without Amos’s assistance. His almanac includes misleading and erroneous maxims that Amos questions. Ben is credited with so much yet seems to achieve so little, a discrepancy Amos attributes to the success of his public persona compared to the lackluster reality.

“Well, just suppose […] you spend two or three weeks in bed with pewmonia—[…]. And then there’d be doctors’ bills.”

Here, Amos refutes Ben’s adage “Waste not, want not,” showing how little wisdom it contains when it is not used correctly: More wood on the fire is not a waste, for example, when it prevents illness. The line also contains a pun, in which he substitutes the word “pew”—a church seat—for the first syllable of pneumonia. This phrasing represents another criticism of religion in that one is more likely to contract pneumonia from being crammed in a pew with other people or from suffering through long sermons in cold buildings.

“Ben was a fair terror for work, once he was interested. It was almost noon before he stopped for a bit of rest.”

For all of Ben’s flaws, Amos is forced to admit that he has some strengths as well. One of those is his enthusiasm and excitement when it comes to new inventions, a testimony to The Importance of Innovation. Ben labors for hours to piece together the prototype of the Franklin Stove, and it is heavy, cumbersome, manual work. When he is seized by a good idea, Ben considers little else. This mindset foreshadows the events that lead Ben to put his thirst for knowledge over his friend’s safety.

“He was always fair, Ben was, just overenthusiastic about himself.”

This line characterizes Ben, stressing The Humanity of Heroes. Amos admits that Ben keeps his word and cares about fairness and justice, but he also claims that Ben overestimates his own abilities. His public persona is one of a well-spoken, capable, wise elderly man; his real self, as presented by Amos, is much less refined and mature.

“Ben never had his wits about him and I was often able to prevent him from plunging into a mud puddle or a market cart. However, the most important improvement that we devised was a small hole in the lining of the cap, just above his left ear. Through this I was able to give him, unnoticed by others, my observations and advice.”

This description highlights just how integral Amos feels he is to Ben’s success. Despite his public reputation as an eloquent and witty man, Amos presents Ben as rather slow and short-sighted. Amos is compelled to steer Ben, so to speak, physically as well as figuratively. He pilots Ben’s body away from obstacles in his path and guides him in less tangible, more significant ways, too. This description, which makes it seem like Ben cannot even walk on his own without aid, feels exaggerated in light of the responsibility Ben is given by General Washington and the Second Continental Congress.

“[F]ew could have recognized in that ludicrous and bedraggled apparition the famous Dr. Franklin! His legs were muddied, bruised, and scratched, his bathing trunks torn, his glasses missing. His wet hair, which hung in long disordered wisps, was surmounted by the fur cap, worn at a drunkenly rakish angle.”

This image highlights the ironic and unexpected differences between “Dr. Franklin’s” public persona and Ben’s private, real self. While “Dr. Franklin” is composed, well-kempt, and generally in control, Ben is ridiculous, even comical. Descriptions like this also indicate that Amos feels he knows Ben better than anyone else and that Amos believes he is Ben’s superior in thought and deed. It certainly emphasizes The Humanity of Heroes.

“Perhaps, if I lived by the maxim I should also be—wise.”

Ben admits that he is healthy and wealthy, though he never rises or goes to bed early, as his adage says. When Amos points this out, Ben tries to defend the maxim, but he ultimately—and perhaps inadvertently—belittles himself in the process. He says that if he did live by these words, then he might be wise, too: an admission that he is not wise now.

“Now, there never was any REAL Poor Richard. Ben just made him up, and I always considered it downright dishonest. So wherever the name occurred, I removed it and substituted Amos. This was not vanity on my part, but merely a desire for honesty, for there really was an Amos.”

This situation demonstrates that Amos is, in some ways, as flawed as Ben. Ben’s gaffes are accidental, but Amos makes significant changes to Poor Richard’s Almanack without consulting or even alerting its printer. Amos claims he made these changes out of a desire for honesty, but he doesn’t tell Ben what he did, nor does he admit it after Ben is confronted with the text’s mistakes. This situation reveals that Ben is more forgiving—and less proud—than Amos, who never even apologizes.

“‘I fear that you are not a person of vision, Amos,’ said he. ‘You fail to grasp the world-wide, the epoch-making importance of these experiments.’”

Ben accuses Amos of lacking vision because the mouse asks Ben to stop his electrical experiments. Although Ben can fail to consider the consequences of his actions, he is right in this respect. Amos’s creativity has a practical bent, like his idea for the Franklin Stove, while Ben’s creativity causes him to dream bigger and risk more. Ben can imagine what could be possible if he learned to harness electricity’s power, but Amos lacks imagination.

“As we hurried home for supper, he was so filled with pride and excitement that I had no opportunity to tell him how narrowly he had escaped ruining the exhibition by his carelessness.”

Again, Amos presents a situation in which he feels he knows better than Ben—like the scenario involving Poor Richard’s Almanack—but it turns out that he does not. Amos highlights Ben’s pride and blames it for preventing him from telling Ben just how careless Ben was in his setup. Ironically, it is Amos who was careless, depositing leftover plates and wires on a chair, where they eventually shock the governor in the buttocks. Amos never takes responsibility for this.

“Why, Amos, don’t you realize that I have just made the most successful, the most momentous experiment of the century? I have discovered the effects produced by applying strong electric shocks to human beings.”

Ben and Amos’s differing interpretations of the exhibition’s outcome show one of their most fundamental differences: Amos’s pessimism compared to Ben’s optimism. Amos thinks of the exhibition as a failure because it did not accomplish what it was intended to, but Ben says it was a success because he demonstrated the effects of electrical shocks on a person’s body! Ben sees the positive, while Amos focuses on the negative.

“I shall go down in history as he who tamed the lightning.”

Ben’s statement shows that he is quite proud and likely overestimates his capabilities. Lightning is more powerful than Ben can imagine, and his boastful claim—not only that he will “tame” this natural force but that he will always be remembered for doing it—emphasizes these qualities. This claim sounds like something a tragic hero of a Greek myth might say just before Zeus or some other angry Olympian smites him for failing to have the appropriate respect. On the other hand, Ben’s kite-flying experiments are well-known and remembered by a great many Americans; he may not have “tamed” lightning, but he is correct that his work will make history.

“Safe in my glass jar I thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle of Ben’s terror as long as the storm raged.”

Amos fails to tell Ben that the glass jar protects him from the worst of the lightning’s power, just as he neglects to share his observations regarding lightning’s electrical composition. Were he to tell Ben what he observes, Ben would not need to conduct even more dangerous experiments to figure out what lightning is made of. This description illuminates Amos’s pride, a flaw he shares with his friend.

“But alas for my trust in human honor! Little did I dream of the horrid plot that this electrical mania was causing to form in his disordered brain!”

In describing Ben’s enthusiasm as a “mania” that comes from a “disordered brain,” Amos implies that Ben has become unreasonable and crazed in his pursuit of electrical knowledge. Amos suggests that Ben’s experiments corrupt his mind and his morals. Little does Amos realize that Ben’s discoveries will help the scientific community to understand and harness its power and that electricity will power the future. This dramatic irony reinforces the value of Ben’s work and his claim that Amos lacks “vision.”

“As you doubtless know, relations between these American Colonies and our Mother Country, England, have become very badly strained. So much so that I have been chosen to go to England and lay our case before the King and Parliament […].

Without you, Amos, I should be lost.”

Whether or not Ben truly believed he would be “lost” without Amos is uncertain, though Amos clearly likes to believe that Ben would be unable to function without him. It seems unlikely that Ben would be chosen to go to England to negotiate peace if he were as inept as Amos presents him, but it could be that Amos’s counsel has been so instrumental to Ben’s success that they have fooled everyone around them.

“I thirsted to do what a mouse could to aid the struggling Colonies. There seemed little I could do, however, without Ben.”

Before Ben returns from England, the war begins, and Amos realizes that he is relatively helpless without his human friend. He wants to assist the colonies, but because he is a mouse, he needs Ben to return so that he can use Ben, or work with him, to attain any real agency. This shows that Amos does need Ben to reach his goals, as much as he claims that Ben needs him, another illustration of The Benefits of Collaboration.

“Ben, for some unaccountable reason, proved to be tremendously popular with the French people. Scholars, scientists and writers flocked to the house. They hung on his every word and talked of his lightning-rods and kite-flying as though they were something wonderful.”

Amos hates Ben’s experiments with electricity and discourages them at every turn, prompting Ben to insist that Amos lacks the ability to see how important his discoveries will be. Ben is right, something Amos doesn’t realize, but readers will because they are likely reading this text using the power of electricity. This lack of “vision” that Ben identifies helps to explain why Amos can’t understand Ben’s popularity. Ben is obviously popular because his contemporaries are also interested in electricity, even though Amos isn’t.

“Of course, with the information I supplied, Ben was able to thwart every plot against us, thereby gaining the reputation of being a brilliant diplomat.”

Again, Amos takes full credit for Ben’s success in France and for Ben’s reputation as a statesman. Of course, anyone with a spy who supplies them with secret intelligence is more apt to outsmart their enemies, but Ben also must know how and when (or whether) to use the information Amos supplies, so he likely deserves at least some credit for his success.

“Besides, suppose something horrid were to happen to me? How could you get along? What would happen to our mission—to our army—to General Washington?”

Amos takes all credit for Ben’s success and claims that even Ben realizes how helpless he would be without Amos. As Ben’s spy, the information he supplies must be helpful, but Ben does get along in many situations without Amos’s intervention. Amos calls it “our mission” and “our army,” suggesting how crucial he thinks his involvement is to Washington’s success (as well as Ben’s). This adds to his character’s arrogance by emphasizing his pride.

“Not only was I touched by her beauty and helplessness, but all my Republican sympathies cried out against these wicked injustices by the pampered aristocrats of a dissolute Court.”

Amos’s commitment to justice and liberty is highlighted by his interactions with Sophia. He presents himself as the savior of her and her family, though he does credit Red somewhat for their victory at Versailles. Because Sophia and Ben never meet, Amos’s inclusion of her story appears designed to bolster Amos’s own image. His adherence to his principles may be commendable, though—again—there is no one to corroborate his story. He clearly takes pride in his moral righteousness.

“I had done my duty to General Washington, I had contributed no little amount to our victory in the War so recently won: the Colonies were free. I had redeemed my promise to Sophia, rescued her children and reunited her family.”

Amos is satisfied that he has achieved what he set out to do: to help the colonies win and to reunite Sophia’s family. He believes that his contribution to the war effort was significant, a claim he softens by using litotes, a figure of speech in which one denies the opposite of what one means. Amos says he “contributed no little amount” to mean that he contributed quite a lot, though using litotes makes him sound humbler.