Chapter V: Franklin as a Writer (4)

Of all the productions of Franklin, the _Autobiography_ and _Poor Richard's Almanac_, are those upon which his literary fame will chiefly rest. Of the former, we have already said too much to say much more about it. It is the only thing written by Franklin that can properly be called a book, and even it is marked by the brevity which he regarded as one of the essentials of good writing. If he did not write other books, it was not, so far as we can see, because, as has been charged, he lacked constructive capacity, but rather because, when he resorted to the pen, he did it not for literary celebrity, but for practical purposes of the hour, best subserved by brief essays or papers. It is true that in writing the early chapters of the _Autobiography_, which brought his life down to the year 1730, he was not exactly writing for the moment, but, still, the motive by which he was actuated was a purely practical one. "They were written to my Son," he said in a letter to Matthew Carey, "and intended only as Information to my Family." Even in the later chapters, which brought his life down to his fiftieth year, he still had a similar incentive to literary effort, highly congenial with the general bent of his character, that is to say, the opportunity that they afforded him to point to his business success as an example of what might be accomplished by frugality and industry. "What is to follow," he wrote to the Duc de la Rochefoucauld, "will be of more important Transactions: But it seems to me that what is done will be of more general Use to young Readers; as exemplifying strongly the Effects of prudent and imprudent Conduct in the Commencement of a Life of Business." Two days later, he wrote to Benjamin Vaughan from Philadelphia that he was diligently employed in writing the _Autobiography_, to which his persuasions had not a little contributed.

To shorten the work [he said], as well as for other
reasons, I omit all facts and transactions, that may
not have a tendency to benefit the young reader, by
showing him from my example, and my success in emerging
from poverty, and acquiring some degree of wealth,
power, and reputation, the advantages of certain modes
of conduct which I observed, and of avoiding the errors
which were prejudicial to me.

To the limited nature of the inducements to the composition of the _Autobiography_, disclosed by these letters, it was due that the interest of Franklin in the subsequent continuation of the work was too languid for the completion of the whole plan of the _Autobiography_, as intimated in the Hints which he gives of its intended scope, notwithstanding the urgent appeals which his friends never ceased to make to him to complete it.

If one of the effects of the fearless self-arraignment of the _Autobiography_ has been to lower the standing of Franklin in some respects with posterity, we should remember the unselfish motive, which induced him to turn his youthful errors to the profit of others, and also the fact that he had his own misgivings about the bearing upon his reputation of such outspoken self-exposure, and submitted the propriety of publishing the _Autobiography_ unreservedly to the judgment of friends who were certainly competent judges in every regard of what the moral sense of their time would approve.

I am not without my Doubts concerning the Memoirs,
whether it would be proper to publish them, or not, at
least during my Life time [he wrote to the Duc de la
Rochefoucauld], and I am persuaded there are many
Things that would, in Case of Publication, be best
omitted; I therefore request it most earnestly of you,
my dear Friend, that you would examine them carefully &
critically, with M. Le Veillard, and give me your
candid & friendly Advice thereupon, as soon as you can
conveniently.

Later, he wrote to Benjamin Vaughan from Philadelphia that he had, of late, been so interrupted by extreme pain, which obliged him to have recourse to opium, that, between the effects of both, he had but little time, in which he could write anything, but that his grandson was copying what was done, which would be sent to Vaughan for his opinion by the next vessel; for he found it a difficult task to speak decently and properly of one's own conduct, and felt the want of a judicious friend to encourage him in scratching out. The next time that Franklin wrote to Vaughan it was when opium alone could render existence tolerable to him, but in the interim, he had happily discovered that he could dictate even when he could not write.

What is already done [he said] I now send you, with an
earnest request that you and my good friend Dr. Price
[later in the letter he calls him "my dear Dr. Price"]
would be so good as to take the trouble of reading it,
critically examining it, and giving me your candid
opinion whether I had best publish or suppress it; and
if the first, then what parts had better be expunged or
altered. I shall rely upon your opinions, for I am now
grown so old and feeble in mind, as well as body, that
I can not place any confidence in my own judgment.

Of the same tenor was a still later letter to M. Le Veillard, in which Franklin expressed the hope that Le Veillard would, with the Duc de la Rochefoucauld, read the Memoirs over carefully, examine them critically and send him his friendly, candid opinion of the parts that he would advise him to correct or expunge, in case he should think that the work was generally proper to be published, but, if he judged otherwise, that he would inform him of that fact, too, as soon as possible, and prevent him from incurring further trouble in the endeavor to finish the work. The world has reason to be thankful that the fate of the _Autobiography_ should thus have been left to the decision of men who, even if they had not lived in the eighteenth century, would have been robust enough, in point of intelligence and morals, to believe that the youthful _errata_ laid bare in that book were more than atoned for by the manly and generous aims that inspired it.

Of the _Autobiography_ it is enough now to say that it is one of the few books which have arrested and permanently riveted the attention of the whole civilized world. Commenting in it on the copy of _Pilgrim's Progress_, "in Dutch, finely printed on good paper, with copper cuts," which the drunken Dutchman, whom he drew up by the shock-pate from the waters of New York Bay, on his first journey to Philadelphia, handed to him to dry, Franklin says: "I have since found that it has been translated into most of the languages of Europe, and suppose it has been more generally read than any other book, except perhaps the Bible." The _Autobiography_ is hardly less popular. It, too, has been translated into most of the languages of Europe, and has been printed and reprinted until it is one of the most widely-read books in existence. Such it is likely to remain always, not simply because it was written by a very famous man, who possessed, to an extraordinary degree, the power of impressing his thoughts and fancies on the hearts and imagination of the human race, but because it tells a story of self-conquest and self-promotion full of warning, guidance and hope for every human being, who wishes to make the best of his own opportunities and powers. As a mere composition, dressed though it is like the poetic Muse described by Franklin in his letter to Polly "in a kind of slatternly Negligee," it is one of the masterpieces of literature. Its very careless loquacity is but suggestive of a mind overflowing with its own profusion of experience and reflection. There is no better test of the extent, to which a writer has proved himself equal to the highest possibilities of his art, than to ask how readily his conceptions can be pictured; for the mind of a great writer is but a gallery hung with such pictures as the painter reduces to material form and color. Tried by this test, the universal popularity of the _Autobiography_ can be readily understood. The Book of Genesis, the plays of Shakespeare, _Pilgrim's Progress_, the novels of Sir Walter Scott, are not more easily illustrated than are the incidents depicted to the life in its early chapters. Some of them wear a hard and coarse aspect as if they had been struck off from ruder plates than any belonging to the present state of the art of engraving, but this is only another proof of the fidelity of Franklin to his eighteenth century background. We might as well quarrel with the squalor and sluttishess of Hogarth's scenes.

_Poor Richard's Almanac_, including the "Way to Wealth," or Father Abraham's Speech is Franklin's other master-work. One would hardly look to almanac-making for a classic contribution to letters, but it is not extravagant to say that Poor Richard is one of the most lifelike figures in the literature of the world. Nestor, Falstaff, Don Quixote, Robinson Crusoe, Sir Roger de Coverley, Captain Dugald Dalgetty and Colonel Newcome are not more distinctly delineated, or rather we should say are not more manifest to the eye and palpable to the touch. To the people of Pennsylvania, its tradesmen, its farmers, even its rude borderers, he was a personage fully as real as the colonial governor at Philadelphia, and far more popular. Thousands of its inhabitants never turned over the pages of any other book except those of the Bible. And finally the wise sayings of Poor Richard, in the form of the "Way to Wealth," applicable as they were to the primal and universal conditions of human existence everywhere, became known from the Thames to the Ganges. The middle of the eighteenth century was the heyday of almanac-making, and the best proof of the durable stuff, of which _Poor Richard's Almanac_ was woven, is the utter oblivion that has overtaken all his competitors except those who are preserved in his pages like flies in amber. The prefaces of _Poor Richard_, the proverbial maxims with which his almanacs are bestrewn, the compendious speech on which these maxims are finally strung like bright beads, have survived, because they were adapted, with consummate art, to the simple habits and mental wants of the rude audience, to which they were addressed. For upwards of thirty years, Poor Richard, with a distinctness and consistency of character as perfect as those of Santa Claus, made his annual bow to the People of Pennsylvania, and served up to their delighted palates his highly seasoned _ollapodrida_ of mock astrology, homely wisdom and coarse jollity in prose and verse. Sometimes the humor is mere horse laughter. But always the shrewd, worldly-wise, merry-tempered old philomath and stargazer hits the fancy of his readers with unerring accuracy between wind and water. His weather predictions and prognostications of planetary conjunctions are just serious enough for unlettered rustics whose minds have been partially but not wholly disabused of the belief that rain comes with the change of the moon. His proverbs are the proverbs of men whose lives are too meagre and straitened to permit them to forget his saying that if you will not hear Reason she'll surely rap your knuckles. His humor is the humor of men whose grave, weather-beaten features do not relax into a smile or grin except under the compelling influence of some broad joke or ridiculous spectacle. Just as the most successful inventor is the one who invents the device that has the widest application to material uses, so the most successful writer is the one who conceives the thoughts that have the widest application to the moral and intellectual needs of mankind. The thoughts that Poor Richard conceived or adopted are such thoughts; for what he taught was full of significance to every man who desires to obtain a correct insight into the moral and economic laws that govern the world for the purpose of winning its favor; which means all men except those who either prey on the world or merely drift along with its current.

In the Prefaces to his _Almanac_, Poor Richard manages to keep both his wife Bridget and himself close to the footlights. In the first preface, he says that, if he were to declare that he wrote almanacs with no other view than of the public good, he should not be sincere.

The plain Truth of the Matter is [he confesses], I am
excessive poor, and my Wife, good Woman, is, I tell
her, excessive proud; she cannot bear, she says, to sit
spinning in her Shift of Tow, while I do nothing but
gaze at the Stars; and has threatned more than once to
burn all my Books and Rattling-Traps (as she calls my
Instruments) if I do not make some profitable Use of
them for the Good of my Family.

In the preface of the succeeding year he announces that the patronage of his readers the year before had made his circumstances much easier. His wife had been enabled to get a pot of her own, and was no longer obliged to borrow one from a neighbor; nor had they ever since been without something of their own to put in it. She had also got a pair of shoes, two new shifts, and a new, warm petticoat, and for his part he had bought a second-hand coat, so good that he was no longer ashamed to go to town or be seen there. These things had rendered Bridget's temper so much more pacific than it used to be that he might say that he had slept more, and more quietly within the last year than in the three foregoing years put together.

In a later preface, he declares that, if the generous purchaser of his labors could see how often his fi-pence helped to light up the comfortable fire, line the pot, fill the cup and make glad the heart of a poor man and an honest good old woman, he would not think his money ill laid out, though the almanac of his Friend and Servant, R. Saunders, were one half blank paper.

A year later, Mistress Saunders avails herself of the fact that her good man had set out the week before for Potowmack to visit an old stargazer of his acquaintance, and to see about a little place for the couple to settle, and end their days on, to scratch out the preface to the copy of the almanac for that year which he had left behind him for the press, because it had undertaken to let the world know that she, who had already been held out in former prefaces as proud and loud and the possessor of a new petticoat, had lately, forsooth, taken a fancy to drink a little tea now and then. Upon looking over the months, she saw that he had put in abundance of foul weather this year, and therefore she had scattered here and there, where she could find room, some fair, pleasant sunshiny days for the good women to dry their clothes in. If what she promised did not come to pass, she would at any rate have shown her goodwill.

In the next preface, referring to the impression that the great yearly demand for his almanac had made him so rich that he should call himself Poor Dick no longer, and pretending that he and the printer were different persons, Poor Richard says:

When I first begun to publish, the Printer made a fair
Agreement with me for my copies, by Virtue of which he
runs _away with_ the greatest Part of the
Profit--However much good may't do him; I do not grudge
it him; he is a Man I have a great Regard for, and I
wish his Profit ten times greater than it is. For I am,
dear Reader, his as well as thy

_Affectionate Friend_, R. SAUNDERS.

But the five pence came in too rapidly for the almanac-maker to persist in putting up a poor mouth of this kind. In his twelfth year, after frankly admitting that he had labored not for the benefit of the public but for the benefit of his own dear self, not forgetting in the meantime his gracious consort and Duchess, the peaceful, quiet, silent Lady Bridget, he states that, whether his labors had been of any service to the public or not, he must acknowledge that they had been of service to him.

It was by such personal touches as these that Poor Richard made Bridget and himself as familiar to his patrons as the signs of the Zodiac. Astrology itself was, of course, too good a subject for keen ridicule to be spared. Formerly, Poor Richard declares in one preface, no prince would make war or peace, nor any general fight a battle without first consulting an astrologer, who examined the aspects and configurations of the heavenly bodies, and marked the lucky hour. But "now," he goes on, "the noble art (more shame to the age we live in) is dwindled into contempt; the Great neglect us, Empires make Leagues, and Parliaments Laws without advising with us; and scarce any other use is made of our learned labours than to find the best time of cutting corns or gelding Pigs."

In many sly ways, Poor Richard let his readers know that his forecasts are not to be accepted too seriously. It is no wonder, he says in his fifth preface, that, among the multitude of astrological predictions, some few should fail; for, without any defect in the art itself, 'tis well known that a small error, a single wrong figure overseen in a calculation, may occasion great mistakes, but, however the almanac-makers might miss it in other things, he believed it would be generally allowed that they always hit the day of the month, and that, he supposed, was esteemed one of the most useful things in an almanac. In another issue of the almanac, he indulges in a great variety of confident predictions as to the year 1739. The crabs will go sidelong and the rope-makers backwards, the belly will wag before, and another part of the body, which we shall not name, but he does, will sit down first, Mercury will so confound the speech of people that, when a Pennsylvanian will wish to say panther, he will say _painter_, and, when a New Yorker will attempt to say _this_, he will say _diss_, and the people of New England and Cape May will not be able to say _cow_ for their lives, but will be forced to say _keow_ by a certain involuntary twist in the root of their tongues. As for Connecticut men and Marylanders, they will not be able to open their mouths but _sir_ shall be the first or last syllable they will pronounce, and sometimes both.

Some of his other predictions are that the stone blind will see but very little, the deaf will hear but poorly and the dumb will not speak very plain, while whole flocks, herds and droves of sheep, swine and oxen, cocks and hens, ducks and drakes, geese and ganders will go to pot, but the mortality will not be altogether so great among cats, dogs and horses. As for age, it will be incurable because of the years past, and, towards the fall, some people will be seized with an unaccountable inclination to eat their own ears. But the worst disease of all will be a certain most horrid, dreadful, malignant, catching, perverse and odious malady, almost epidemical, insomuch that many will run mad upon it. "I quake for very Fear," exclaims Poor Richard, "when I think on't; for I assure you very few will escape this Disease, which is called by the learned Albumazar _Lacko'mony_."

That the orange trees in Greenland will go near to fare the worse for the cold, that oats will be a great help to horses and that there will not be much more bacon than swine, are still other prophecies hazarded by the astrologer.

In another preface, he declares that he has gone into retirement, and that it is time for an old man such as he is to think of preparing for his Great Remove. Then follow these impatient statements:

The perpetual Teasing of both Neighbours and Strangers,
to calculate Nativities, give Judgments on Schemes,
erect Figures, discover Thieves, detect Horse-Stealers,
describe the Route of Run-a-ways and stray'd Cattle;
the Croud of Visitors with a 1000 trifling Questions;
_will my Ship return Safe?_ _Will my Mare win the
Race?_ _Will her next Colt be a Pacer?_ _When will my
Wife die?_ _Who shall be my Husband, and HOW LONG
first?_ _When is the best time to cut Hair, trim Locks
or sow Sallad?_ These and the like Impertinences I have
now neither Taste nor Leisure for. I have had enough of
'em. All that these angry Folks can say, will never
provoke me to tell them where I live. I would eat my
Nails first.

At times the horse laughter is even slightly flavored with the stercoraceous smell of the stable.

Ignorant Men [says Poor Richard in his seventh preface]
wonder how we Astrologers foretell the Weather so
exactly, unless we deal with the old black Devil. Alas!
'tis as easy as.... For Instance; the Stargazer peeps
at the heavens thro' a long Glass: He sees perhaps
TAURUS, or the Great Bull, in a mighty Chafe, stamping
on the Floor of his House, swinging his Tail about,
stretching out his Neck, and opening wide his Mouth.
'Tis natural from these Appearances to judge that this
furious Bull is puffing, blowing and roaring. Distance
being consider'd and Time allow'd for all this to come
down, there you have Wind and Thunder. He spies perhaps
VIRGO (or the Virgin;) she turns her Head round as it
were to see if anybody observ'd her; then crouching
down gently, with her Hands on her Knees, she looks
wistfully for a while right forward. He judges rightly
what she's about: And having calculated the Distance
and allow'd Time for its Falling, finds that next
Spring we shall have a fine _April_ shower.

In his preface for 1754, Poor Richard advances the proposition that the first astrologers were honest husbandmen, and he proceeds to prove it partly by the names of the Zodiacal signs, which were related for the most part, he asserts, to rural affairs. The Ram, the Bull, the Twins, the Crab, the Lion, the Wench, the Balance, the Scorpion, the Archer, the Goat, the Waterbearer, the Fish, one by one he tells them off in the course of his demonstration, making his own comments on their several meanings as he goes along. The Lion and the Wench, he says, were intended by the Ancients to mark the summer months and dog days when those creatures were most mischievous. The Balance, one of the autumnal signs, was intended by them to mark out the time for weighing and selling the summer's produce, or for holding courts of justice in which they might plague themselves and their neighbors. The Scorpion, with the sting in his tail, certainly denoted the paying of costs. The Goat accompanies the short days and long nights of winter, to show the season of mirth, feasting and jollity; for what could Capricorn mean but dancing or cutting of capers? Lastly came Pisces, or the two Shads, to signify the approaching return of those fish up the rivers. "Make your Wears, hawl your Seins, Catch 'em and pickle 'em, my Friends," advised Poor Richard "they are excellent Relishars of Old Cyder."

But Poor Richard's prefaces are not altogether made up of hearty, hilarious jests and loud guffaws. The raillery, with which he plies his rival philomath, Titan Leeds, would be as admirable as any humor in his writings, if it were not borrowed so manifestly from Dean Swift's ridicule of Partridge, the almanac-maker. In his very first preface in 1733, he says that he would have published an almanac many years before had he not been restrained by his regard for his good friend and fellow-student, Mr. Titan Leeds, whose interest he was extremely unwilling to hurt.

But this Obstacle (I am far from speaking it with
Pleasure) [declares Poor Richard] is soon to be removed,
since inexorable Death, who was never known to respect
Merit, has already prepared the mortal Dart, the fatal
Sister has already extended her destroying Shears, and
that ingenious Man must soon be taken from us. He dies,
by my Calculation made at his Request, on Oct. 17, 1733.
3 h. 29 m. P.M. at the very instant of the conjunction
of Sun and Mercury. By his own Calculation he will
survive till the 26th of the same Month. This small
Difference between us we have disputed whenever we have
met these 9 Years past; but at length he is inclinable
to agree with my Judgment: Which of us is most exact, a
little Time will now determine. As therefore these
Provinces may not longer expect to see any of his
Performances after this Year, I think myself free to
take up the Task, and request a share of the publick
Encouragement.

To these assertions Leeds returned a hot answer in his American Almanac for the succeeding year. Notwithstanding the false prediction of the writer, who proposed to succeed him in the writing of almanacs, he had, he said, by the mercy of God lived to write a diary for the year 1734 and to publish the folly and ignorance of the presumptuous author, whom he did not scruple, in the rising tide of his wrath, to term "a Fool and a Lyar" and "a conceited Scribler." This, of course, was just what Poor Richard was calculating on. In his next preface, he is at his very best.

In the Preface to my last Almanack [he says], I
foretold the Death of my dear old Friend and
Fellow-Student, the learned and ingenious Mr. _Titan
Leeds_, which was to be on the 17th of _October_, 1733,
3 h. 29 m. P.M. at the very Instant of the conjunction of Sun and
Mercury. By his own Calculation he was to survive
till the 26th of the same Month, and expire in the Time
of the Eclipse, near 11 o'clock A.M. At which of these
Times he died, or whether he be really yet dead, I can
not at this present Writing positively assure my
Readers; forasmuch as a Disorder in my own Family
demanded my Presence, and would not permit me as I had
intended, to be with him in his last Moments, to
receive his last Embrace, to close his Eyes, and do the
Duty of a Friend in performing the last Offices to the
Departed. Therefore it is that I can not positively
affirm whether he be dead or not; for the Stars only
show to the Skilful, what will happen in the natural
and universal Chain of Causes and Effects; but 'tis
well known, that the Events which would otherwise
certainly happen at certain Times in the Course of
Nature are sometimes set aside or postpon'd for wise
and good Reasons by the immediate particular
Dispositions of Providence; which particular
Dispositions the Stars can by no Means discover or
foreshow. There is however (and I can not speak it
without Sorrow) there is the strongest Probability that
my dear Friend is no more; for there appears in his
Name, as I am assured, an Almanack for the year 1734,
in which I am treated in a very gross and unhandsome
Manner; in which I am called _a false Predicter_, _an
Ignorant_, _a conceited Scribler_, _a Fool_, _and a
Lyar_. Mr. Leeds was too well bred to use any Man so
indecently and so scurrilously, and moreover his Esteem
and Affection for me was extraordinary: So that it is
to be feared that Pamphlet may be only a Contrivance of
somebody or other, who hopes perhaps to sell two or
three Years Almanacks still, by the sole Force and
Virtue of Mr. _Leed's_ Name; but certainly, to put
Words into the Mouth of a Gentleman and a Man of
Letters, against his Friend, which the meanest and
most scandalous of the People might be asham'd to utter
even in a drunken Quarrel, is an unpardonable Injury to
his Memory, and an Imposition upon the Publick.

Mr. _Leeds_ was not only profoundly skilful in the
useful Science he profess'd, but he was a Man of
_exemplary_ Sobriety, a most _sincere Friend_, and an
_exact Performer of his Word_. These valuable
Qualifications, with many others so much endear'd him
to me, that although it should be so, that, contrary to
all Probability, contrary to my Prediction and his own,
he might possibly be yet alive, yet my Loss of Honour
as a Prognosticator, can not afford me so much
Mortification, as his Life, Health and Safety would
give me Joy and Satisfaction.

By these observations, the burden was again imposed upon Titan Leeds of demonstrating that he was still alive, and accordingly in his next preface his indignant shade did not fail to take notice of them.

But, with the succeeding revolution of the earth about the sun, Poor Richard was at his sport again.

Whatever may be the Musick of the Spheres [he said],
how great soever the Harmony of the Stars, 'tis certain
there is no Harmony among the Stargazers; but they are
perpetually growling and snarling at one another like
strange Curs, or like some Men at their Wives: I had
resolved to keep the Peace on my own part, and affront
none of them; and I shall persist in that Resolution:
But having receiv'd much Abuse from _Titan Leeds_
deceas'd (_Titan Leeds_ when living would not have us'd
me so!) I say, having receiv'd much Abuse from the
Ghost of _Titan Leeds_, who pretends to be still
living, and to write Almanacks in Spight of me and my
Predictions, I can not help saying, that tho' I take it
patiently, I take it very unkindly. And whatever he may
pretend, 'tis undoubtedly true that he is really
defunct and dead. First because the Stars are seldom
disappointed, never but in the Case of wise Men,
_sapiens dominabitur astris_, and they foreshow'd his
Death at the Time I predicted it. Secondly, 'Twas
requisite and necessary he should die punctually at
that Time, for the Honour of Astrology, the Art
professed both by him and his Father before him.
Thirdly, 'Tis plain to every one that reads his two
last Almanacks (for 1734 and 35) that they are not
written with that _Life_ his Performances use to be
written with; the Wit is low and flat, the little Hints
dull and spiritless, nothing smart in them but
_Hudibras's Verses_ against Astrology at the Heads of
the Months in the last, which no Astrologer but a _dead
one_ would have inserted, and no man _living_ would or
could write such Stuff as the rest.

In a later preface, Poor Richard complains that certain ill-willers of his, despited at the great reputation that he had gained by exactly predicting another man's death, had endeavored to deprive him of it all at once in the most effective manner by reporting that he himself was never alive. It was not civil treatment, he said, to endeavor to deprive him of his very being, and to reduce him to a non-entity in the opinion of the public; but, so long as he knew himself to walk about, eat, drink and sleep, he was satisfied that there was really such a man as he was, whatever they might say to the contrary. As his printer seemed as unwilling to father his offspring as he was to lose the credit of them, to clear him entirely as well as to vindicate his own honor he made this public and serious declaration, which he desired might be believed, to wit, that what he had written theretofore and did now write neither had been nor was written by any other man or men, person or persons whatsoever. Those who were not satisfied with this must needs be very unreasonable.

To cap the climax of all this fun, Poor Richard finally published, in one of his prefaces, a letter, alleged by him to have been written to him by Titan Leeds from the other world, which stated that the writer was grieved at the aspersions cast on Poor Richard by avaricious publishers of almanacs, who envied his success, and pretended that the writer remained alive many years after the hour predicted for his death by Poor Richard, and certified that he, Titan Leeds, did die presently at that hour with a variation only of 5 m. 53 sec.; which must be allowed to be no great matter in such cases. Nay more, in this letter Titan Leeds was made to predict that another Pennsylvania philomath and competitor of Poor Richard, one John Jerman would be openly reconciled to the Church of Rome, and give all his goods and chattels to the Chapel, being perverted by a certain country schoolmaster.

In a former year, Poor Richard had already charged Jerman with making such flexible prophecies as "Snow here or in New England," "Rain here or in South Carolina," "Cold to the Northward," "Warm to the Southward." If he were to adopt that method, he said, he would not be so likely to have his mistakes detected, but he did not consider that it would be of any service to anybody to know what weather it was 1000 miles off, and therefore he always set down positively what weather his reader would have, be he where he might be at the time. All he modestly desired was only the favorable allowance of a day or two before and a day or two after the precise day against which the weather was set.

On another previous occasion, Poor Richard had made his readers a promise about Jerman which he does not seem to have ever redeemed. "When my Brother J-m-n," he said, "erected a Scheme to know which was best for his sick Horse, to sup a new-laid Egg, or a little Broth, he found that the Stars plainly gave their Verdict for Broth, and the Horse having sup'd his Broth;--Now, what do you think became of that Horse? You shall know in my next."

When the prediction of Titan Leeds from beyond the grave that Jerman would apostatize was duly published, the latter resented it; and, in his Almanac for the year 1742, Poor Richard felt it necessary to say a word about the matter himself.

My last Adversary [he declared] is J. J--n, Philomat.,
who _declares and protests_ (in his preface, 1741) that
the _false Prophecy put in my Almanack, concerning him,
the Year before, is altogether_ false and untrue: _and
that I am one of Baal's false Prophets_. This _false,
false Prophecy_ he speaks of, related to his
Reconciliation with the Church of Rome; which,
notwithstanding his Declaring and Protesting, is, I
fear, too true. Two Things in his elegiac Verses
confirm me in this Suspicion. He calls the first of
_November_ by the name of _All Hallows Day_. Reader;
does not this smell of Popery? Does it in the least
savour of the pure Language of Friends? But the
plainest Thing is; his Adoration of Saints, which he
confesses to be his Practice, in these Words, page 4.

"When any Trouble did me befal,
To my dear _Mary_ then I would call."

Did he think the whole World were so stupid as not to
take Notice of this? So ignorant as not to know, that
all Catholicks pay the highest Regard to the _Virgin
Mary_? Ah! Friend _John_, we must allow you to be a
_Poet_, but you are certainly no Protestant. I could
heartily wish your Religion were as good as your
Verses.

Mingled with the other contents of _Poor Richard's Almanac_ were pointed maxims and sayings worthy of Lord John Russell's happy definition of a proverb "the wit of one and the wisdom of many," and at times first- or second-hand verses also.

Among the best of the latter are the following:

When Robin now three days had married been,
And all his friends and neighbours gave him joy,
This question of his wife he asked then,
Why till her marriage day she proved so coy?
Indeed said he, 'twas well thou didst not yield,
For doubtless then my purpose was to leave thee:
O, sir, I once before was so beguil'd,
And was resolved the next should not deceive me.

Poetry for December, 1734

By Mrs. Bridget Saunders, my Dutchess in answer to the December verses of last year.

He that for the sake of drink neglects his trade,
And spends each night in taverns till 'tis late,
And rises when the sun is four hours high,
And ne'er regards his starving family,
God in his mercy may do much to save him
But, woe to the poor wife, whose lot is to have him.

* * * *

Time eateth all things, could old poets say.
But times are chang'd, our times _drink_ all away

* * * *

Old Batchelor would have a wife that's wise,
Fair, rich and young a maiden for his bed;
Not proud, nor churlish, but of faultless size
A country housewife in the city bred.
He's a nice fool and long in vain hath staid;
He should bespeak her, there's none ready made.

And this is Poor Richard's version of how Cupid and Campaspe played for kisses:

My love and I for kisses play'd,
She would keep stakes, I was content,
But when I won, she would be paid,
This made me ask her what she meant:
Quoth she, since you are in the wrangling vein
Here take your kisses, give me mine again.

The first preface to _Poor Richard's Almanac_ appeared in the issue for 1733. In 1758, the proverbs and sayings, scattered through the preceding issues of the publication, were assembled in the _Way to Wealth_ or _Father Abraham's Speech_. Even John Bach McMaster in his brief, though admirable, work on Franklin as a man of letters found that he could not abridge this renowned production; so we offer no apology for inserting it here in its entirety:

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 tho' I have been, if I may say it without
Vanity, an _eminent Author_ of Almanacks annually now 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 on 't; 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 wise 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 stopt my Horse
lately where a great Number of People were collected at
a Vendue of Merchant Goods. The Hour of Sale not being
come, they were conversing on the Badness of the Times
and one of the Company call'd 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 be ever able to pay them? What
would you advise us to?" Father _Abraham_ stood up, and
reply'd, "If you'd have my Advice, I'll give it you in
short, for _A Word to the Wise is enough_, and _many
Words won't fill a Bushel_, as _Poor Richard_ says."
They join'd in desiring him to speak his Mind, and
gathering round him, he proceeded as follows;

"Friends," says he, "and Neighbours, 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 Almanack 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 Labour 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
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 be up
and doing, and doing to the Purpose; so by Diligence
shall we do more with less Perplexity. _Sloth makes all
Things difficult, but Industry all 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_.

"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 upon 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 Honour; 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 Debts, while Despair encreaseth
them_, says _Poor Richard_. What though you have found
no Treasure, nor has any rich Relation left you a
Legacy, _Diligence is the Mother of Goodluck_ as _Poor
Richard_ says _and God gives all Things to Industry_.
_Then plough 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
farther, _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 Almanack, 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 are 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 Labour? No, for as
_Poor Richard_ says, _Trouble springs from Idleness,
and grievous Toil from needless Ease. Many without
Labour, would live by their Wits only, but they break
for want of Stock._ Whereas Industry gives Comfort, and
Plenty, and Respect: _Fly Pleasures, 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 is 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 Plough would thrive,
Himself must either hold or drive._

And again, _The Eye of a 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 Almanack 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 farther, _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 want of Care about a Horse-shoe 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 gets, _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 forsook Spinning and Knitting,_
_And Men for Punch forsook Hewing and Splitting._

_If you would be wealthy_, says he, in another
Almanack, _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 then 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 farther, _What maintains one Vice, would bring up
two Children_. You may think perhaps, that a _little_
Tea, or a _little_ Punch now and then, Diet a _little_
more costly, Clothes, a _little_ finer, and a _little_
Entertainment now and then, can be no _great_ Matter;
but remember what _Poor Richard_ says, _Many a Little
makes a Mickle_; and farther, _Beware of little
Expences; 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 you are all got together at this Vendue of
_Fineries_ and _Knicknacks_. 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 a
while_: 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
practised every Day at Vendues, for want of minding the
Almanack. _Wise Men_, as _Poor Dick_ says, _learn by
others Harms, Fools scarcely by their own_; but _felix
quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum_. Many a one, for
the Sake of Finery on the Back, have gone with a hungry
Belly, and half-starved their Families. _Silks and
Sattins, Scarlet 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 an hundred
indigent_. By these, and other Extravagancies, 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 Ploughman 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_; 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_ farther advises, and says,

_Fond Pride of Dress is sure a very Curse;_
_E'er 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 truly 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._