HABITS OF THRIFT.
"Die Hauptsache ist dass man lerne sich selbst zu beherrschen." [The
great matter is to learn to rule oneself.]--_Goethe_.
"Most men work for the present, a few for the future. The wise work for
both--for the future in the present, and for the present in the
future."--_Guesses at Truth_.
"The secret of all success is to know how to deny yourself.... If you
once learn to get the whip-hand of yourself, that is the best educator.
Prove to me that you can control yourself, and I'll say you're an
educated man; and without this, all other education is good for next to
nothing."--_Mrs. Oliphant_.
"All the world cries, 'Where is the man who will save us? We want a man!
Don't look so far for this man. You have him at hand. This man--it is
you, it is I, it is each one of us! ... How to constitute oneself a man?
Nothing harder, if one knows not how to _will_ it; nothing easier, if
one wills it."--_Alexandre Dumas_.
Competence and comfort lie within the reach of most people, were they to
take the adequate means to secure and enjoy them. Men who are paid good
wages might also become capitalists, and take their fair share in the
improvement and well-being of the world. But it is only by the exercise
of labour, energy, honesty, and thrift, that they can advance their own
position or that of their class.
Society at present suffers far more from waste of money than from want
of money. It is easier to make money than to know how to spend it. It is
not what a man gets that constitutes his wealth, but his manner of
spending and economizing. And when a man obtains by his labour more than
enough for his personal and family wants, and can lay by a little store
of savings besides, he unquestionably possesses the elements of social
well-being. The savings may amount to little, but they may be sufficient
to make him independent.
There is no reason why the highly-paid workman of to-day may not save a
store of capital. It is merely a matter of self-denial and private
economy. Indeed, the principal industrial leaders of to-day consist, for
the most part, of men who have sprung directly from the ranks. It is the
accumulation of experience and skill that makes the difference between
the workman and the _no_-workman; and it depends upon the workman
himself whether he will save his capital or waste it. If he save it, he
will always find that he has sufficient opportunities for employing it
profitably and usefully.
"When I was down in Lancashire the other day," said Mr. Cobden to his
fellow-townsmen at Midhurst, "I visited a mill, in company with some
other gentlemen, and that mill belonged to a person whose real name I
will not mention, but whom for the present purpose I will call Mr.
Smith. There could not have been less than three or four thousand
persons engaged in this mill when it was at work, and there were seven
hundred power-looms under one roof. As we were coming away, one of the
friends who accompanied me patted the owner of the mill on the shoulder,
and with that frank and manly familiarity which rather distinguishes the
Lancashire race, he said, 'Mr. Smith was a working man himself
twenty-five years ago, and he owes all this entirely to his own industry
and frugality.' To which Mr. Smith immediately replied, in the same
frank and good-humoured manner, 'Nay, I do not owe it all to myself; I
married a wife with a fortune; for she was earning 9_s_ 6_d_. a week as
a weaver at the power-loom, when she married me.'"
Thrift of Time is equal to thrift of money. Franklin said, "Time is
gold." If one wishes to earn money, it may be done by the proper use of
time. But time may also be spent in doing many good and noble actions.
It may be spent in learning, in study, in art, in science, in
literature. Time can be economized by system. System is an arrangement
to secure certain ends, so that no time may be lost in accomplishing
them. Every business man must be systematic and orderly. So must every
housewife. There must be a place for everything, and everything in its
place. There must also be a time for everything, and everything must be
done in time.
It is not necessary to show that economy is useful. Nobody denies that
thrift may be practised. We see numerous examples of it. What many men
have already done, all other men _may_ do. Nor is thrift a painful
virtue. On the contrary, it enables us to avoid much contempt and many
indignities. It requires us to deny ourselves, but not to abstain from
any proper enjoyment. It provides many honest pleasures, of which
thriftlessness and extravagance deprive us.
Let no man say that he cannot economize. There are few persons who could
not contrive to save a few shillings weekly. In twenty years, three
shillings saved weekly would amount to two hundred and forty pounds; and
in ten years more, by addition of interest, to four hundred and twenty
pounds. Some may say that they cannot save nearly so much. Well! begin
with two shillings, one shilling, or even sixpence. Begin somewhere;
but, at all events, make a beginning. Sixpence a week, deposited in the
savings bank, will amount to forty pounds in twenty years, and seventy
pounds in thirty years. It is the _habit_ of economizing and denying
oneself that needs to be formed.
Thrift does not require superior courage, nor superior intellect, nor
any superhuman virtue. It merely requires common sense, and the power of
resisting selfish enjoyments. In fact, thrift is merely common sense in
every-day working action. It needs no fervent resolution, but only a
little patient self-denial. BEGIN is its device! The more the habit of
thrift is practised, the easier it becomes; and the sooner it
compensates the self-denier for the sacrifices which it has imposed.
The question may be asked,--Is it possible for a man working for small
wages to save anything, and lay it by in a savings bank, when he
requires every penny for the maintenance of his family? But the fact
remains, that it _is_ done by many industrious and sober men; that they
do deny themselves, and put their spare earnings into savings banks, and
the other receptacles provided for poor men's savings. And if some can
do this, all may do it under similar circumstances,--without depriving
themselves of any genuine pleasure, or any real enjoyment.
How intensely selfish is it for a person in the receipt of good pay to
spend everything upon himself,--or, if he has a family, to spend his
whole earnings from week to week, and lay nothing by. When we hear that
a man, who has been in the receipt of a good salary, has died and left
nothing behind him--that he has left his wife and family destitute--left
them to chance--to live or perish anywhere,--we cannot but regard it as
the most selfish thriftlessness. And yet, comparatively little is
thought of such cases. Perhaps the hat goes round. Subscriptions may
produce something--perhaps nothing; and the ruined remnants of the
unhappy family sink into poverty and destitution.
Yet the merest prudence would, to a great extent, have obviated this
result. The curtailment of any sensual and selfish enjoyment--of a glass
of beer or a screw of tobacco--would enable a man, in the course of
years, to save at least something for others, instead of wasting it on
himself. It is, in fact, the absolute duty of the poorest man to
provide, in however slight a degree, for the support of himself and his
family in the season of sickness and helplessness which often comes upon
men when they least expect such a visitation.
Comparatively few people can be rich; but most have it in their power to
acquire, by industry and economy, sufficient to meet their personal
wants. They may even become the possessors of savings sufficient to
secure them against penury and poverty in their old age. It is not,
however, the want of opportunity, but the want of will, that stands in
the way of economy. Men may labour unceasingly with hand or head; but
they cannot abstain from spending too freely, and living too highly.
The majority prefer the enjoyment of pleasure to the practice of
self-denial. With the mass of men, the animal is paramount. They often
spend all that they earn. But it is not merely the working people who
are spendthrifts. We hear of men who for years have been earning and
spending hundreds a year, who suddenly die,--leaving their children
penniless. Everybody knows of such cases. At their death, the very
furniture of the house they have lived in belongs to others. It is sold
to pay their funeral expenses and debts which they have incurred during
their thriftless lifetime.
Money represents a multitude of objects without value, or without real
utility; but it also represents something much more precious,--and that
is independence. In this light it is of great moral importance.
As a guarantee of independence, the modest and plebeian quality of
economy is at once ennobled and raised to the rank of one of the most
meritorious of virtues. "Never treat money affairs with levity," said
Bulwer; "Money is Character." Some of man's best qualities depend upon
the right use of money,--such as his generosity, benevolence, justice,
honesty, and forethought. Many of his worst qualities also originate in
the bad use of money,--such as greed, miserliness, injustice,
extravagance, and improvidence.
No class ever accomplished anything that lived from hand to mouth.
People who spend all that they earn, are ever hanging on the brink of
destitution. They must necessarily be weak and impotent--the slaves of
time and circumstance. They keep themselves poor. They lose
self-respect, as well as the respect of others. It is impossible that
they can be free and independent. To be thriftless, is enough to deprive
one of all manly spirit and virtue.
But a man with something saved, no matter how little, is in a different
position. The little capital he has stored up, is always a source of
power. He is no longer the sport of time and fate. He can boldly look
the world in the face. He is, in a manner, his own master. He can
dictate his own terms. He can neither be bought nor sold. He can look
forward with cheerfulness to an old age of comfort and happiness.
As men become wise and thoughtful, they generally become provident and
frugal. A thoughtless man, like a savage, spends as he gets, thinking
nothing of to-morrow, of the time of adversity, or of the claims of
those whom he has made dependent on him. But a wise man thinks of the
future; he prepares in good time for the evil day that may come upon him
and his family; and he provides carefully for those who are near and
dear to him.
What a serious responsibility does the man incur who marries! Not many
seriously think, of this responsibility. Perhaps this is wisely ordered.
For, much serious thinking might end in the avoidance of married life
and its responsibilities. But, once married, a man ought forthwith to
determine that, so far as his own efforts are concerned, want shall
never enter his household; and that his children shall not, in the event
of his being removed from the scene of life and labour, be left a
burthen upon society.
Economy with this object is an important duty. Without economy, no man
can be just--no man can be honest. Improvidence is cruelty to women and
children; though the cruelty is born of ignorance. A father spends his
surplus means in drink, providing little, and saving nothing; and then
he dies, leaving his destitute family his lifelong victims. Can any form
of cruelty surpass this? Yet this reckless course is pursued to a large
extent among every class. The middle and upper classes are equally
guilty with the lower class. They live beyond their means. They live
extravagantly. They are ambitious of glare and glitter--frivolity and
pleasure. They struggle to be rich, that they may have the means of
spending,--of drinking rich wines, and giving good dinners.
When Mr. Hume said in the House of Commons, some years ago, that the
tone of living in England was altogether too high, his observation was
followed with "loud laughter." Yet his remark was perfectly true. It is
far more true now than it was then. Thinking people believe that life is
now too fast, and that we are living at high-pressure. In short, we live
extravagantly. We live beyond our means. We throw away oar earnings, and
often throw our lives after them.
Many persons are diligent enough in making money, but do not know how to
economize it,--or how to spend it. They have sufficient skill and
industry to do the one, but they want the necessary wisdom to do the
other. The temporary passion for enjoyment seizes us, and we give way to
it without regard to consequences. And yet it may be merely the result
of forgetfulness, and might be easily controlled by firmness of will,
and by energetic resolution to avoid the occasional causes of
expenditure for the future. The habit of saving arises, for the most
part, in the desire to ameliorate our social condition, as well as to
ameliorate the condition of those who are dependent upon us. It
dispenses with everything which is not essential, and avoids all methods
of living that are wasteful and extravagant. A purchase made at the
lowest price will be dear, if it be a superfluity. Little expenses lead
to great. Buying things that are not wanted, soon accustoms us to
prodigality in other respects.
Cicero said, "Not to have a mania for buying, is to possess a revenue."
Many are carried away by the habit of bargain-buying. "Here is something
wonderfully cheap: let us buy it." "Have you any use for it?" "No, not
at present; but it is sure to come in useful, some time." Fashion runs
in this habit of buying. Some buy old china--as much as will furnish a
china-shop. Others buy old pictures--old furniture--old wines,--all
great bargains! There would be little harm in buying these old things,
if they were not so often bought at the expense of the connoisseur's
creditors. Horace Walpole once said, "I hope that there will not be
another sale, for I have not an inch of room nor a farthing left."
Men must prepare in youth and in middle age the means of enjoying old
age pleasantly and happily. There can be nothing more distressing than
to see an old man who has spent the greater part of his life in
well-paid-for-labour, reduced to the necessity of begging for bread, and
relying entirely on the commiseration of his neighbours, or upon the
bounty of strangers. Such a consideration as this should inspire men in
early life with a determination to work and to save, for the benefit of
themselves and their families in later years.
It is, in fact, in youth that economy should be practised, and in old
age that men should dispense liberally, provided they do not exceed
their income. The young man has a long future before him, during which
he may exercise the principles of economy; whilst the other is reaching
the end of his career, and can carry nothing out of the world with him.
This, however, is not the usual practice. The young man now spends, or
desires to spend, quite as liberally, and often much more liberally,
than his father, who is about to end his career. He begins life where
his father left off. He spends more than his father did at his age, and
soon finds himself up to his ears in debt. To satisfy his incessant
wants, he resorts to unscrupulous means, and to illicit gains. He tries
to make money rapidly; he speculates, over-trades, and is speedily wound
up. Thus he obtains experience; but it is the result, not of well-doing,
but of ill-doing.
Socrates recommends fathers of families to observe the practice of their
thrifty neighbours--of those who spend their means to the best
advantage,--and to profit by their example. Thrift is essentially
practical, and can best be taught by facts. Two men earn, say, five
shillings a day. They are in precisely the same condition as respects
family living, and expenditure Yet the one says he cannot save, and does
not; while the other says he can save, and regularly deposits part of
his savings in a savings bank, and eventually becomes a capitalist.
Samuel Johnson fully knew the straits of poverty. He once signed his
name _Impransus_, or _Dinnerless_. He had walked the streets with
Savage, not knowing where to lay his head at night. Johnson never forgot
the poverty through which he passed in his early life, and he was always
counselling his friends and readers to avoid it. Like Cicero, he averred
that the best source of wealth or well-being was economy. He called it
the daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temperance, and the mother of
Liberty. his mind, his character. Self-respect, originating in
self-love, instigates the first step of improvement. It stimulates a man
to rise, to look upward, to develop his intelligence, to improve his
condition. Self-respect is the root of most of the virtues--of
cleanliness, chastity, reverence, honesty, sobriety. To think meanly of
one's self is to sink; sometimes to descend a precipice at the bottom of
which is infamy.
Every man can help himself to some extent. We are not mere straws thrown
upon the current to mark its course; but possessed of freedom of action,
endowed with power to stem the waves and rise above them, each marking
out a course for himself. We can each elevate ourselves in the scale of
moral being. We can cherish pure thoughts. We can perform good actions.
We can live soberly and frugally. We can provide against the evil day.
We can read good books, listen to wise teachers, and place ourselves
under the divinest influences on earth. We can live for the highest
purposes, and with the highest aims in view.
"Self-love and social are the same," says one of our poets. The man who
improves himself, improves the world. He adds one more true man to the
mass. And the mass being made up of individuals, it is clear that were
each to improve himself, the result would be the improvement of the
whole. Social advancement is the consequence of individual advancement.
The whole cannot be pure, unless the individuals composing it are pure.
Society at large is but the reflex of individual conditions. All this is
but the repetition of a truism, but truisms have often to be repeated to
make their full impression.
Then again, a man, when he has improved himself, is better able to
improve those who are brought into contact with him. He has more power.
His sphere of vision is enlarged. He sees more clearly the defects in
the condition of others that might be remedied. He can lend a more
active helping hand to raise them. He has done his duty by himself, and
can with more authority urge upon others the necessity of doing the like
duty to themselves. How can a man be a social elevator, who is himself
walking in the mire of self-indulgence? How can he teach sobriety or
cleanliness, if he be himself drunken or foul? "Physician, heal
thyself," is the answer of his neighbours.
The sum and substance of our remarks is this: In all the individual
reforms or improvements that we desire, we must begin with ourselves. We
must exhibit our gospel in our own life. We must teach by our own
example. If we would have others elevated, we must elevate ourselves.
Each man can exhibit the results in his own person. He can begin with
self-respect.
The uncertainty of life is a strong inducement to provide against the
evil day. To do this is a moral and social, as well as a religious duty.
"He that provideth not for his own, and especially for those of his own
household, hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel."
The uncertainty of life is proverbially true. The strongest and
healthiest man may be stricken down in a moment, by accident or disease.
If we take human life in the mass, we cannot fail to recognize the
uncertainty of life as much as we do the certainty of death.
There is a striking passage in Addison's "Vision of Mirza," in which
life is pictured as a passage over a bridge of about a hundred arches. A
black cloud hangs over each end of the bridge. At the entrance to it
there are hidden pitfalls very thickly set, through which throngs
disappear, so soon as they have placed their feet upon the bridge. They
grow thinner towards the centre; they gradually disappear; until at
length only a few persons reach the further side, and these also having
dropped through the pitfalls, the bridge at its further extremity
becomes entirely clear. The description of Addison corresponds with the
results of the observations made as to the duration of human life.
Thus, of a hundred thousand persons born in this country, it has been
ascertained that a fourth of them die before they have reached their
fifth year; and one-half before they have reached their fiftieth year.
One thousand one hundred will reach their ninetieth year. Sixteen will
live to a hundred. And only two persons out of the hundred
thousand--like the last barks of an innumerable convoy, will reach the
advanced and helpless age of a hundred and five years.
Two things are very obvious,--the uncertainty as to the hour of death in
individuals, but the regularity and constancy of the circumstances which
influence the duration of human life in the aggregate. It is a matter of
certainty that the _average_ life of all persons born in this country
extends to about forty-five years. This has been proved by a very large
number of observations of human life and its duration.
Equally extensive observations have been made as to the average number
of persons of various ages who die yearly. It is always the number of
the experiments which gives the law of the probability. It is on such
observations that the actuary founds his estimates of the mortality that
exists at any given period of life. The actuary tells you that he has
been guided by the Laws of Mortality. Now the results must be very
regular, to justify the actuary in speaking of Mortality as governed by
Laws. And yet it is so.
Indeed, there would seem to be no such thing as chance in the world. Man
lives and dies in conformity to a law. A sparrow falls to the ground in
obedience to a law. Nay, there are matters in the ordinary transactions
of life, such as one might suppose were the mere result of chance, which
are ascertained to be of remarkable accuracy when taken in the mass. For
instance, the number of letters put in the post-office without an
address; the number of letters wrongly directed; the number containing
money; the number unstamped; continue nearly the same, in relation to
the number of letters posted, from one year to another.
Now it is the business of man to understand the laws of health, and to
provide against their consequences,--as, for instance, in the matter of
sickness, accident, and premature death. We cannot escape the
consequences of transgression of the natural laws, though we may have
meant well. We must have done well. The Creator does not alter His laws
to accommodate them to our ignorance. He has furnished us with
intelligence, so that we may understand them and act upon them:
otherwise we must suffer the consequences in inevitable pain and sorrow.
We often hear the cry raised, "Will nobody help us?" It is a spiritless,
hopeless cry. It is sometimes a cry of revolting meanness, especially
when it issues from those who with a little self-denial, sobriety, and
thrift, might easily help themselves.
Many people have yet to learn, that virtue, knowledge, freedom, and
prosperity must spring from themselves. Legislation can do very little
for them: it cannot make them sober, intelligent, and well-doing. The
prime miseries of most men have their origin in causes far removed from
Acts of Parliament.
The spendthrift laughs at legislation. The drunkard defies it, and
arrogates the right of dispensing with forethought and
self-denial,--throwing upon others the blame of his ultimate
wretchedness. The mob orators, who gather "the millions" about them, are
very wide of the mark, when, instead of seeking to train their crowd of
hearers to habits of frugality, temperance, and self-culture, they
encourage them to keep up the cry, "Will nobody help us?"
The cry sickens the soul. It shows gross ignorance of the first elements
of personal welfare. Help is in men themselves. They were born to help
and to elevate themselves. They must work out their own salvation. The
poorest men have done it; why should not every man do it? The brave,
upward spirit ever conquers.
The number of well-paid workmen in this country has become very large,
who might easily save and economize, to the improvement of their moral
well-being, of their respectability and independence, and of their
status in society as men and citizens. They are improvident and
thriftless to an extent which proves not less hurtful to their personal
happiness and domestic comfort, than it is injurious to the society of
which they form so important a part.
In "prosperous times" they spend their gains recklessly, and when
adverse times come, they are at once plunged in misery. Money is not
used, but abused; and when wage-earning people should be providing
against old age, or for the wants of a growing family, they are, in too
many cases, feeding folly, dissipation, and vice. Let no one say that
this is an exaggerated picture. It is enough to look round in any
neighbourhood, and see how much is spent and how little is saved; what a
large proportion of earnings goes to the beershop, and how little to the
savings bank or the benefit society.
"Prosperous times" are very often the least prosperous of all times. In
prosperous times, mills are working full time; men, women, and children
are paid high wages; warehouses are emptied and filled; goods are
manufactured and exported; wherries full of produce pass along the
streets; immense luggage trains run along the railways, and
heavily-laden ships leave our shores daily for foreign ports, full of
the products of our industry. Everybody seems to be becoming richer and
more prosperous. But we do not think of whether men and women are
becoming wiser, better trained, less self-indulgent, more religiously
disposed, or living for any higher purpose than the satisfaction of the
animal appetite.
If this apparent prosperity be closely examined, it will be found that
expenditure is increasing in all directions. There are demands for
higher wages; and the higher wages, when obtained, are spent as soon as
earned. Intemperate habits are formed, and, once formed, the habit of
intemperance continues. Increased wages, instead of being saved, are for
the most part spent in drink.
Thus, when a population is thoughtless and improvident, no kind of
material prosperity will benefit them. Unless they exercise forethought
and economy, they will alternately be in a state of "hunger and burst."
When trade falls off, as it usually does after exceptional prosperity,
they will not be comforted by the thought of what they _might_ have
saved, had it ever occurred to them that the "prosperous times" might
not have proved permanent.
During prosperous times, Saint Monday is regularly observed. The Bank
Holiday is repeated weekly. "Where are all the workmen?" said a master
to his foreman on going the rounds among his builders,--this work must
be pushed on and covered in while the fine weather lasts." "Why, sir,"
said the foreman, "this is Monday; and they have not spent all their
money yet." Dean Boyd, preaching at Exeter on behalf of the Devonshire
hospitals, expressed his belief that the annual loss to the workpeople
engaged in the woollen manufacture, the cotton trade, the bricklaying
and building trade, by Idle Monday, amounted to over seven millions
sterling. If man's chief end were to manufacture cloth, silk, cotton,
hardware, toys, and china; to buy in the cheapest market, and to sell in
the dearest; to cultivate land, grow corn, and graze cattle; to live for
mere money profit, and hoard or spend, as the case might be, we might
then congratulate ourselves upon our National Prosperity. But is this
the chief end of man? Has he not faculties, affections, and sympathies,
besides muscular organs? Has not his mind and heart certain claims, as
well as his mouth and his back? Has he not a soul as well as a stomach?
And ought not "prosperity" to include the improvement and well-being of
his morals and intellect as well as of his bones and muscles?
Mere money is no indication of prosperity. A man's nature may remain the
same. It may even grow more stunted and deformed, while he is doubling
his expenditure, or adding cent, per cent, to his hoards yearly. It is
the same with the mass. The increase of their gains may merely furnish
them with increased means for gratifying animal indulgences, unless
their moral character keeps pace with their physical advancement. Double
the gains of an uneducated, overworked man, in a time of prosperity, and
what is the result? Simply that you have furnished him with the means of
eating and drinking more! Thus, not even the material well-being of the
population is secured by that condition of things which is defined by
political economists as "National Prosperity." And so long as the moral
elements of the question are ignored, this kind of "prosperity" is, we
believe, calculated to produce far more mischievous results than good.
It is knowledge and virtue alone that can confer dignity on a man's
life; and the growth of such qualities in a nation are the only true
marks of its real prosperity; not the infinite manufacture and sale of
cotton prints, toys, hardware, and crockery. The Bishop of Manchester,
when preaching at a harvest thanksgiving near Preston, referred to a
letter which he had received from a clergyman in the south of England,
who, after expressing his pleasure at the fact that the agricultural
labourers were receiving higher wages, lamented "that at present the
only result he could discover from their higher wages was that a great
deal _more beer_ was consumed. If this was the use we were making of
this prosperity, we could hardly call it a blessing for which we had a
right or ground to thank God. The true prosperity of the nation
consisted not so much in the fact that the nation was growing in
wealth--though wealth was a necessary attribute of prosperity--but that
it was growing in virtue; and that there was a more equable distribution
of comfort, contentment, and the things of this lower world."
In making the preceding observations we do not in the least advocate the
formation of miserly, penurious habits; for we hate the scrub, the
screw, the miser. All that we contend for is, that man should provide
for the future,--that they should provide during good times for the bad
times which almost invariably follow them,--that they should lay by a
store of savings as a breakwater against want, and make sure of a little
fund which may maintain them in old age, secure their self-respect, and
add to their personal comfort and social well-being. Thrift is not in
any way connected with avarice, usury, greed, or selfishness. It is, in
fact, the very reverse of these disgusting dispositions.
It means economy for the purpose of securing independence. Thrift
requires that money should be used and not abused--that it should be
honestly earned and economically employed--
"Not for to put it in a hedge,
Not for a train attendent,--
But for the glorious privilege
Of being Independent."