A narrow sunny street in Paris in 1845, with tall stone houses, iron balconies, flower pots and open green shutters. In the middle stands Amélie, a girl with brown braids and red ribbons, a mustard-yellow dress and a white pinafore, hugging a leather-bound sketchbook and smiling at the sun. On the left, in the tailor’s shop with a scissors-shaped sign, her papa, Marcel, sews a blue coat by hand in front of shelves of folded cloth. On the right, in the doorway of the green shop with candles hanging in the window and a candle-shaped sign, tall, thin Monsieur Bougie, with an orange tuft of hair like a flame, folds his arms and glares at the sun. A ginger cat suns itself on a step.

Ages 8–11

Picture book

The Candlemakers’ Petition

A story inspired by Frédéric Bastiat (1845)

The characters

Amélie, a nine-year-old girl who loves drawing in the sunshine
Her papa, Marcel, the tailor on her street
Monsieur Bougie, the candlemaker, tall and thin like a candle
Monsieur Pompon, a deputy with a tall hat and enormous side-whiskers
Madame Violette, who sells flowers on the corner

What would happen if someone asked for every shutter to be closed, so that nobody could see the sun? Monsieur Bougie the candlemaker really asks for it! At first everything seems wonderful for him. But Amélie is going to see what nobody else sees.

Let’s go to Paris, a long, long time ago, in 1845. The story is made up, but what Amélie discovers is still true today.

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A narrow street in Paris early in the morning, with tall stone houses, grey roofs, chimneys and pigeons. The sun is rising over the rooftops and filling the street with golden light. On the first floor, Amélie leans out of her window, pushes her green shutters wide open with both arms and smiles at the sun. Below her, in the tailor’s shop with a scissors-shaped sign, her papa, Marcel, sews by the window. Across the street, the green candle shop still has its door closed, and a ginger cat stretches in the sunshine.

One morning in 1845

The sunny street

In Paris, a long, long time ago, there is a narrow little street with tall houses and green shutters. Every morning the sun climbs over the rooftops and the street fills with light. Amélie, who is nine, throws her shutters wide open. “Good morning, sun!”

Below her home is the tailor’s shop of her papa, Marcel. Papa sews by the window, where the light falls, and Amélie draws beside him. Across the street is the shop of Monsieur Bougie, the candlemaker, with dozens of candles hanging in the window.

In front of the green candle shop on a sunny morning. In the doorway of the empty shop stands Monsieur Bougie, tall and thin, bald with an orange tuft of hair like a flame, in a grey frock coat and a green apron covered in drips of wax. He clenches his fists and scowls comically. Bundles of white candles hang behind him. In front of him, Amélie, sketchbook in hand, covers her mouth and giggles, and the ginger cat sits happily in the sun.

That same morning

Monsieur Bougie is cross

Monsieur Bougie is tall and thin like a candle, and on top of his head he has an orange tuft of hair that looks like a flame. He stands in the doorway of his empty shop and glares at the sky with his fists clenched.

“That sun again!” he grumbles. “As long as it shines, nobody needs my candles. It gives light to everyone and doesn’t ask for a single franc! It isn’t fair!” Amélie giggles. “But, Monsieur Bougie, the sun is the sun!”

Inside the candle shop in the evening, with bundles of candles hanging from the ceiling and an oil lamp. Monsieur Bougie writes with a goose-feather pen on a very long sheet of paper. Around him, smiling, are a sturdy craftsman with a reddish beard and a leather apron beside a lamp, an elderly lady in a white cap holding a bunch of candles, and a young man in a blue smock with a jug of oil. The paper spills off the counter, across the floor and all the way to the door, where Amélie peeks in, holding its end.

That evening

A very long petition

That evening, Monsieur Bougie gathers all the candlemakers and lamp makers in town in his shop. With a goose-feather pen they write a petition, which is a letter with a big complaint, to the Chamber of Deputies, the place where laws are made.

The petition says: “We ask for a law: everyone must close their shutters, curtains and skylights, so that the sun cannot get into the houses!” The paper gets so long that it rolls all the way to the door, where Amélie is peeking in.

A grand semicircular hall with wooden benches covered in red velvet, marble columns, tall windows and French flags. At the marble rostrum, Monsieur Pompon, short and round, with enormous grey side-whiskers, a tall black hat, a blue tailcoat and a red, white and blue sash, reads the long paper aloud as it ripples down the steps. All around, the deputies clap and wave their hats. At the front, Monsieur Bougie and the craftsman with the reddish beard smile and clap.

At the Chamber of Deputies

Monsieur Pompon reads

The candlemakers take the long paper to the Chamber of Deputies, a big building with tall columns beside the river. There, Monsieur Pompon, a deputy, reads it out loud. He is a round gentleman with a tall hat and enormous side-whiskers.

“If the shutters are closed,” he reads, “everyone will need candles by day and by night! The candlemakers will have work, the beekeepers will sell wax, and the shepherds will sell fat from their sheep!” “Hurray!” shout the deputies, and the law is passed.

The same street at noon, but every window has closed green shutters and the street is in shadow, even though the sky high above is blue. On the left, a town crier in a blue uniform and a two-cornered hat beats a drum and calls out. In the middle, a queue of neighbours in 1845 clothes, a lady in a bonnet, an old man with a walking stick, a boy, a maid with a basket and Amélie, hold lit candles and little lanterns as they wait. On the right, in his shop doorway, Monsieur Bougie happily rubs his hands.

The next day

Closed shutters

In the morning a town crier with a drum walks down the street: “Listen, everyone! From today, all shutters stay closed!” One by one the shutters close, and in the middle of the day the street turns as dark as a cave.

A long queue forms outside Monsieur Bougie’s shop. Everybody wants candles, even Amélie, for her papa! Monsieur Bougie rubs his hands, and his tuft stands up like a flame with joy. This is what everybody sees: a candlemaker who never stops working.

Inside the tailor’s shop, which is dark because the shutters are closed and only a little light comes through the cracks. Papa Marcel sews by the light of one candle and has just pricked his finger with the needle: he shuts his eyes, opens his mouth and holds up his finger. On the table are scissors, a thimble, a spool of thread and burnt-down candles. Behind him, a tailor’s dummy wears a blue coat. On the right, Amélie looks sadly at a glass jar on the shelf with only two coins in it, and her drawing of a box of paints is pinned on the wall.

At the tailor’s shop

Papa sews in the dark

In the tailor’s shop, Papa now sews by candlelight. His needle gets lost in the gloom and… ouch! He pricks his finger. Every day six candles burn down, and every day Papa goes to Monsieur Bougie for more.

Amélie looks at the glass jar on the shelf. Every week they used to put a few coins in it for a box of paints. Now the coins go on candles, and only two are left in the jar.

A corner of the dark street with closed shutters. Madame Violette, in a straw bonnet with a violet ribbon and a purple shawl, sits sadly on a little stool beside a big basket of wilted flowers hanging their heads. Behind her, the pastry shop window is full of cakes and brioches, and the pastry cook leans in the doorway, bored. In the middle, a gentleman and a lady carrying lit candles have bumped into each other, and the gentleman’s top hat is flying off. In front, the ginger cat looks for a sunbeam, and on the right Amélie watches, worried.

On the street corner

Madame Violette’s flowers

On the corner, Madame Violette sells flowers. Without the sun, her flowers droop their heads, and nobody stops to buy a bunch. “Everyone spends their coins on candles,” she says sadly. “They have nothing left for flowers.”

In the dark street, people trip and bump into each other. The pastry cook’s shelves are full of cakes and brioches, but nobody comes in. Even the neighbourhood cat can’t find a single sunbeam to sleep in.

Amélie sits on the stone step of her house, with a candle and the ginger cat beside her, drawing thoughtfully with the tip of her tongue poking out. Her open sketchbook shows two drawings: on the left page, Monsieur Bougie smiling among piles of candles; on the right page, a box of paints, a bunch of flowers and a plate of brioches. Behind her, the street with its closed shutters is dark.

That afternoon

What nobody sees

Amélie sits on the step with her sketchbook and thinks. On one page she draws Monsieur Bougie, happy among mountains of candles. Everybody sees him.

On the other page she draws the paints she didn’t get, the flowers nobody bought and the brioches nobody ate. “Nobody sees these,” she whispers. “The coins that go on candles can’t go on anything else.”

Amélie’s little attic room, dark, with closed green shutters. Through a crack between them comes a bright golden sunbeam full of sparkles, lighting up the room and the open sketchbook on the little table. Amélie leaps up from her chair with her arms in the air and her eyes shining, and the ginger cat pounces playfully on the bright spot on the floor. Behind her is a bed with a patchwork quilt.

A little later

A gift from the sky

A little later, in her room, a thin golden sunbeam slips through a crack in the shutter and lights everything up. Amélie jumps to her feet. “The sun! The sun never asks for a single franc. It gives us its light as a present, every day!”

“When light comes free, the coins are left for paints, for flowers and for brioches,” she thinks. “Now we pay for something the sun used to give us for nothing!” And she hugs her sketchbook: she knows where she is going.

Inside the candle shop in the evening, with dozens of lit candles and bundles of candles hanging from the ceiling. Monsieur Bougie, worn out, with dark rings under his eyes and his orange tuft flopping to one side like a flame about to go out, leans on the counter, which is covered in candles and drips of wax. Facing him, Amélie stands on a little stool and shows him her open sketchbook with the two drawings.

That same evening

Monsieur Bougie listens

Monsieur Bougie is worn out. He works day and night by the light of his own candles, and today he heard that the pastry cook might close. “Where will I get my morning brioche now?” he sighs.

Amélie climbs onto a stool and shows him her two drawings. “You have work, Monsieur Bougie. But Madame Violette and the pastry cook have lost theirs, and Papa can’t get me my paints. The sun isn’t stealing from you. It gives its light to all of us as a present!” Monsieur Bougie looks at the drawings for a long time, and his tuft slowly droops.

The grand hall of the Chamber of Deputies, with its red benches, columns and French flags. Monsieur Pompon has flung open the wooden shutters of a tall window, and golden light floods the hall. The deputies blink, shade their eyes with their hands and say “ooh”. In the middle, in the sunlight, Amélie proudly holds up her open sketchbook, and beside her Monsieur Bougie, bright red, smiles shyly with his hands clasped.

The next day

The shutters open

The next day, Monsieur Bougie goes with Amélie to the Chamber of Deputies. “Monsieur Pompon,” he says, turning red, “we made a mistake. Please, open the shutters!” Amélie shows her drawings to all the deputies.

Monsieur Pompon goes to the big window and flings the shutters wide open. Sunlight floods the hall, and the deputies blink. “Ooooh!” Then Monsieur Pompon tears the law in two, and all over Paris the shutters open, one by one.

One evening, a little later

Candles for the night

The street shines again. Papa sews in the light, Madame Violette sells her flowers, and the cat sleeps in the sun. Coins go back into the jar, and one day Amélie opens a brand-new box of paints!

And Monsieur Bougie? Now he makes the most beautiful candles for the evenings: candles for the table, candles for lanterns, colourful candles for festivals. When the sun goes down, he waves at the sky: “Good night, sun, and thank you! I’ll take it from here!” And Amélie paints a smiling sun.

The End

The Lesson

When the shutters closed, everyone saw Monsieur Bougie selling candles from morning till night. And they thought: “How nice, he has so much work!” But they didn’t see the paints Amélie didn’t get, the flowers that wilted in Madame Violette’s basket, or the brioches that nobody ate.

The same coins can’t be spent twice. When we pay for something we could have for free, we have less left for everything else. The sun isn’t an unfair rival; it is a gift. And the more gifts like that we have, the easier life gets for everybody.

Next time someone asks for everyone’s shutters to be closed so that they can have more work, remember Amélie: look at the person who is happy, but also look for the people left in the dark!

For grown-ups: sources and further reading

Where each page comes from

Pages 1–12: Frédéric Bastiat, “A Petition” (1845), Economic Sophisms, First Series, ch. 7 · French original, Pétition des fabricants de chandelles…