What does it mean to hang onto a piece of a person’s body after they’re gone? If I had Benjamin Franklin’s tooth, I would keep it, make a pretty case for it—maybe like an acorn, the seed of a great man. I would cherish such an object, or at least keep it as a curiosity. Wouldn’t you?

But—why? Why do we keep sacred relics? Because that’s what this is, no different from any saint’s kneecap in a church in Europe. This is a sacred relic, and how ironic—the brilliant, eccentric Enlightenment thinker who wasn’t religious, the Freemason—here he is, or here’s his molar anyway. Even if we don’t genuflect in front of it, there’s nonetheless a sense of reverent, albeit morbid curiosity.

Franklin, with his sly wit, would doubtless be amused that we’re here, considering his tooth—his tooth!—in the collection of the American Philosophical Society, which he founded. He would appreciate the joke.

And yet there’s another Franklin: the irreligious man who nevertheless prayed daily to “the Infinite.”[1] There’s the man who would see the magic in this, from his mouth to our eyes across the centuries. Franklin carried this tooth throughout his long and eventful life, through dinners, debates, ocean crossings, experiments, flirtations, and treaties. Conjuring the country from thin air. This bit of him was right there, so close to his thoughts, through all of it. And so we keep it as a souvenir. Which seems right.

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Links:

• American Philosophical Society Museum, Philadelphia, PA

This post is part of The American 250, a series featuring 250 objects made by Americans, located in America, in honor of the country's 250th anniversary. 250 words on 250 works, from January 1 to December 31, 2026.

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[1] Franklin’s 1728 “Articles of Belief and Acts of Religion,” an early writing, sets out an Enlightenment liturgy that tacitly does not acknowledge Christianity. As of this writing (May 21, 2026), the Library of Congress website includes only an absurdly brief, partial transcription from the manuscript, just the first line of it: “I Believe there is one Supreme most perfect Being, Author and Father of the Gods themselves.” The public should be trusted to handle the full text, which is not available on the LOC’s website. It is, however, available elsewhere, and it’s a full-throated, beautiful statement of faith, nature, and the cosmos—albeit one that expresses doubt about some tenets of organized religion:

“In as much as by Reason of our Ignorance We cannot be Certain that many Things Which we often hear mentioned in the Petitions of Men to the Deity, would prove REAL GOODS if they were in our Possession, and as I have Reason to hope and believe that the Goodness of my Heavenly Father will not withold from me a suitable Share of Temporal Blessings, if by a VIRTUOUS and HOLY Life I merit his Favour and Kindness, Therefore I presume not to ask such Things, but rather Humbly, and with a sincere Heart express my earnest Desires that he would graciously assist my Continual Endeavours and Resolutions of eschewing Vice and embracing Virtue...”