Courteous Reader: I have heard that nothing gives an author so great
pleasure as to find his works respectfully quoted by other learned
authors. This pleasure I have seldom enjoyed. For though I have been, if
I may say it without vanity, an eminent author of almanacs annually now
for a full quarter of a century, my brother authors in the same way, for
what reason I know not, have ever been very sparing in their applauses,
and no other author has taken the least notice of me; so that did not my
writings produce me some solid pudding, the great deficiency of praise
would have quite discouraged me.
I concluded at length that the people were the best judges of my merit,
for they buy my works; and besides, in my rambles, where I am not
personally known I have frequently heard one or other of my adages
repeated, with _as Poor Richard says_ at the end of it. This gave me
some satisfaction, as it showed not only that my instructions were
regarded, but discovered likewise some respect for my authority; and I
own that to encourage the practice of remembering and repeating those
sentences, I have sometimes quoted myself with great gravity.
Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I am
going to relate to you. I stopped my horse lately where a great number
of people were collected at a vendue[409-1] of merchants' goods. The
hour of sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the
times; and one of the company called to a plain, clean old man with
white locks, "Pray, Father Abraham, what think you of the times? Won't
these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we ever be able to
pay them? What would you advise us to do?" Father Abraham stood up and
replied: "If you would have my advice, I will give it you in short; for,
'a word to the wise is enough,'[409-2] and 'many words won't fill a
bushel,'[409-3] as Poor Richard says." They all joined, desiring him to
speak his mind, and gathering round him he proceeded as follows:
Friends and neighbors, the taxes are indeed very heavy, and if those
laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might
more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more
grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our IDLENESS,
three times as much by our PRIDE, and four times as much by our FOLLY;
and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us by
allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and
something may be done for us. "God helps them that help themselves," as
Poor Richard says in his almanac of 1733.
It would be thought a hard government that should tax its people
one-tenth part of their TIME, to be employed in its service, but
idleness taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all that is spent in
absolute sloth or doing of nothing, with that which is spent in idle
employments or amusements that amount to nothing. Sloth, by bringing on
diseases, absolutely shortens life. "Sloth, like rust, consumes faster
than labor wears; while the used key is always bright," as Poor Richard
says. "But dost thou love life? then do not squander time, for that's
the stuff life is made of," as Poor Richard says.
How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep? forgetting that
"the sleeping fox catches no poultry," and that "there will be sleeping
enough in the grave," as Poor Richard says. If time be of all things the
most precious, "wasting of time must be," as Poor Richard says, "the
greatest prodigality;" since, as he elsewhere tells us, "lost time is
never found again," and what we call "time enough! always proves little
enough." Let us, then, up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so by
diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. "Sloth makes all things
difficult, but industry all things easy," as Poor Richard says; and "he
that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his
business at night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon
overtakes him," as we read in Poor Richard; who adds, "drive thy
business! let not that drive thee!" and
"Early to bed and early to rise
Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise."
[Illustration: "THE SLEEPING FOX CATCHES NO POULTRY"]
So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these
times better if we bestir ourselves. "Industry need not wish," as Poor
Richard says, and "he that lives on hope will die fasting." "There are
no gains without pains; then help, hands! for I have no lands;" or, if I
have, they are smartly taxed. And as Poor Richard likewise observes, "he
that hath a trade hath an estate, and he that hath a calling hath an
office of profit and honor;" but then the trade must be worked at and
the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will
enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious we shall never starve;
for, as Poor Richard says, "at the working-man's house hunger looks in,
but dares not enter." Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for
"industry pays debt, while despair increaseth them."
What though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left
you a legacy, "diligence is the mother of good luck," as Poor Richard
says, and "God gives all things to industry."
"Then plow deep while sluggards sleep,
And you shall have corn to sell and to keep,"
says Poor Dick. Work while it is called to-day, for you know not how
much you may be hindered to-morrow; which makes Poor Richard say, "one
to-day is worth two to-morrows;" and further, "have you somewhat to do
to-morrow? Do it to-day!"
If you were a servant would you not be ashamed that a good master should
catch you idle? Are you, then, your own master? "Be ashamed to catch
yourself idle," as Poor Dick says. When there is so much to be done for
yourself, your family, your country, and your gracious king, be up by
peep of day! "Let not the sun look down and say, 'Inglorious here he
lies!'" Handle your tools without mittens! remember that "the cat in
gloves catches no mice!" as Poor Richard says.
'Tis true there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but
stick to it steadily and you will see great effects; for "constant
dropping wears away stones;" and "by diligence and patience the mouse
ate in two the cable;" and "little strokes fell great oaks," as Poor
Richard says in his almanac, the year I cannot just now remember.
Methinks I hear some of you say, "Must a man afford himself no leisure?"
I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says, "employ thy time
well if thou meanest to gain leisure;" and "since thou art not sure of a
minute, throw not away an hour!" Leisure is time for doing something
useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man
never; so that, as Poor Richard says, "a life of leisure and a life of
laziness are two things." Do you imagine that sloth will afford you more
comfort than labor? No! for, as Poor Richard says, "trouble springs from
idleness and grievous toil from needless ease." "Many, without labor,
would live by their wits only, but they'll break for want of stock;"
whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. "Fly pleasure
and they'll follow you;" "the diligent spinner has a large shift;" and
"Now I have a sheep and a cow,
Everybody bids me good-morrow."
All which is well said by Poor Richard. But with our industry we must
likewise be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs
with our own eyes and not trust too much to others; for, as Poor Richard
says,
"I never saw an oft-removed tree
Nor yet an oft-removed family
That throve so well as those that settled be."
And again, "three removes are as bad as a fire"; and again, "keep thy
shop and thy shop will keep thee"; and again, "if you would have your
business done, go; if not, send." And again
"He that by the plow would thrive,
Himself must either hold or drive."
And again, "the eye of the master will do more work than both his
hands;" and again, "want of care does us more damage than want of
knowledge;" and again, "not to oversee workmen is to leave them your
purse open."
Trusting too much to others' care is the ruin of many; for, as the
almanac says, "in the affairs of this world men are saved, not by faith,
but by the want of it;" but a man's own care is profitable; for, saith
Poor Dick, "learning is to the studious and riches to the careful;" as
well as "power to the bold" and "heaven to the virtuous." And further,
"if you would have a faithful servant and one that you like, serve
yourself."
And again, he adviseth to circumspection and care, even in the smallest
matters; because sometimes "a little neglect may breed great mischief;"
adding, "for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the
horse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost;" being
overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for the want of a little care
about a horseshoe nail!
So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own business;
but to these we must add frugality if we would make our industry more
certainly successful. "A man may," if he knows not how to save as he
goes "keep his nose all his life to the grindstone and die not worth a
groat at last." "A fat kitchen makes a lean will," as Poor Richard
says; and
"Many estates are spent in the getting,
Since women for tea[415-4] forsook spinning and knitting,
And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting."
If you would be wealthy, says he in another almanac, "think of saving as
well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her
outgoes are greater than her incomes."
Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not have so much
cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families;
for, as Poor Dick says,
"Women and wine, game and deceit,
Make the wealth small and the wants great."
And further, "what maintains one vice would bring up two children." You
may think, perhaps, that a little tea or a little punch now and then, a
diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little more
entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember what
Poor Richard says, "many a little makes a mickle"; and further, "beware
of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship"; and again,
"Who dainties love shall beggars prove";
and moreover, "fools make feasts and wise men eat them."
Here are you all got together at this vendue of fineries and
knick-knacks. You call them goods; but if you do not take care they
will prove evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and
perhaps they may for less than they cost; but if you have no occasion
for them they must be dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says: "Buy
what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy
necessaries." And again, "at a great pennyworth pause awhile." He means
that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only and not real; or the bargain
by straitening thee in thy business may do thee more harm than good. For
in another place he says, "many have been ruined by buying good
pennyworths."
Again, Poor Richard says, "'tis foolish to lay out money in a purchase
of repentance;" and yet this folly is practiced every day at vendues for
want of minding the almanac.
"Wise men," as Poor Richard says, "learn by others' harm; fools scarcely
by their own;" but _Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum_.[416-5]
Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, has gone with a hungry
belly and half-starved his family. "Silks and satins, scarlets and
velvets," as Poor Richard says, "put out the kitchen fire." These are
not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be called the
conveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want to
have them! The artificial wants of mankind thus become more numerous
than the natural; and as Poor Dick says, "for one poor person there are
a hundred indigent."
By these and other extravagances the genteel are reduced to poverty and
forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who, through
industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it
appears plainly that "a plowman on his legs is higher than a gentleman
on his knees," as Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small
estate left them, which they knew not the getting of; they think, "'tis
day and will never be night;" that "a little to be spent out of so much
is not worth minding" (a child and a fool, as Poor Richard says, imagine
twenty shillings and twenty years can never be spent); but "always
taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the
bottom." Then, as Poor Dick says, "when the well's dry they know the
worth of water." But this they might have known before if they had taken
his advice. "If you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow
some;" for "he that goes a-borrowing goes a sorrowing," and indeed so
does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it in again.
Poor Dick further advises and says:
"Fond pride of dress is, sure, a very curse;
Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse."
And again, "pride is as loud a beggar as want and a great deal more
saucy." When you have bought one fine thing you must buy ten more, that
your appearance may be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, "'tis easier
to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it." And
'tis as true folly for the poor to ape the rich as for the frog to swell
in order to equal the ox.
"Great estates may venture more,
But little boats should keep near shore."
'Tis, however, a folly soon punished; for "pride that dines on vanity
sups on contempt," as Poor Richard says. And in another place, "pride
breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with infamy."
And after all, of what use is this pride of appearance, for which so
much is risked, so much is suffered? It cannot promote health or ease
pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy; it
hastens misfortune.
"What is a butterfly? At best
He's but a caterpillar drest,
The gaudy fop's his picture just,"
as Poor Richard says.
But what madness must it be to run into debt for these superfluities! We
are offered by the terms of this vendue six months' credit; and that,
perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare
the ready money and hope now to be fine without it. But ah! think what
you do when you run in debt: you give to another power over your
liberty. If you cannot pay at the time you will be ashamed to see your
creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor,
pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your veracity and
sink into base, downright lying; for, as Poor Richard says, "the second
vice is lying, the first is running into debt;" and again, to the same
purpose, "lying rides upon debt's back;" whereas a free-born Englishman
ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any man living. But
poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. "'Tis hard for an
empty bag to stand upright!" as Poor Richard truly says. What would you
think of that prince or the government who should issue an edict
forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of
imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say that you are free, have a
right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach
of your privileges and such a government tyrannical? And yet you are
about to put yourself under such tyranny when you run in debt for such
dress! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of
your liberty by confining you in jail for life or to sell you for a
servant if you should not be able to pay him. When you have got your
bargain you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but "creditors," Poor
Richard tells us, "have better memories than debtors;" and in another
place says, "creditors are a superstitious set, great observers of set
days and times."
The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before
you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the
term which at first seemed so long will, as it lessens, appear extremely
short. Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his
shoulders. "Those have a short Lent," saith Poor Richard, "who owe money
to be paid at Easter." Then since, as he says, "the borrower is a slave
to the lender and the debtor to the creditor," disdain the chain,
preserve your freedom, and maintain your independence. Be industrious
and free; be frugal and free. At present, perhaps, you may think
yourself in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little
extravagance without injury; but
"For age and want, save while you may;
No morning sun lasts a whole day."
As Poor Richard says, gain may be temporary and uncertain; but ever
while you live expense is constant and certain; and "'tis easier to
build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel," as Poor Richard says; so,
"rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt."
"Get what you can, and what you get hold;
'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold,"[420-6]
as Poor Richard says: and when you have got the philosopher's stone,
sure, you will no longer complain of bad times or the difficulty of
paying taxes.
This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, do not
depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence,
though excellent things, for they may all be blasted without the
blessing of Heaven; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not
uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and
help them. Remember Job suffered and was afterward prosperous.
And now, to conclude, "experience keeps a dear school, but fools will
learn in no other, and scarce in that;" for it is true, "we may give
advice, but we cannot give conduct," as Poor Richard says. However,
remember this: "they that won't be counseled can't be helped," as Poor
Richard says; and further, that "if you will not hear reason she'll
surely rap your knuckles."
Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it and
approved the doctrine, and immediately practiced the contrary, just as
if it had been a common sermon. For the vendue opened and they began to
buy extravagantly, notwithstanding all his cautions and their own fear
of taxes. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my almanacs and
digested all I had dropped on those topics during the course of
twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must have tired
any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I
was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he
ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I had made of the sense of
all ages and nations. However, I resolved to be the better for the echo
of it, and though I had at first determined to buy stuff for a new coat,
I went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer. Reader, if thou
wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as mine. I am, as ever,
thine to serve thee.