Benjamin Franklin

_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 d.i.c.k_, _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 Circ.u.mspection 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_ pain _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 d.i.c.k_ 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 s.h.i.+p_; 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 straitning 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 d.i.c.k_ 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 _Conveniencies_, 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 d.i.c.k_ 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 s.h.i.+llings _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 d.i.c.k_ 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 d.i.c.k_ 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 d.i.c.k_ 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 Sh.o.r.e._

'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 is a b.u.t.terfly? 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 in 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 in Debt_. And again, to the same Purpose, _Lying rides upon Debt's Back_. Whereas a freeborn _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 that Government, who should issue an Edict forbidding you to dress like a Gentleman or a 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 that 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 Goal [_sic_] 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 superst.i.tious Sect, 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 extreamly short. _Time_ will seem to have added Wings to his Heels as well as 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 Independency: Be _industrious_ and _free_; be _frugal_ and _free_. At present, perhaps, you may think yourself in thriving Circ.u.mstances, and that you can bear a little Extravangance [_sic_] 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, Expence is constant and certain; and _'tis easier to build two Chimnies 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,_

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 afterwards 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 counselled, can't be helped_, as _Poor Richard_ says: And farther, 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 practised 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 Almanacks, and digested all I had dropt on those Topicks during the Course of Five-and-twenty 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_ 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,_ _July 7, 1757._ RICHARD SAUNDERS.

TO HUGH ROBERTS

London, September 16, 1758.

DEAR FRIEND,

Your kind letter of June 1st gave me great pleasure. I thank you for the concern you express about my health, which at present seems tolerably confirmed by my late journey into different parts of the kingdom, that have been highly entertaining as well as useful to me. Your visits to my little family in my absence are very obliging, and I hope you will be so good as to continue them. Your remark on the thistle and the Scotch motto made us very merry, as well as your string of puns. You will allow me to claim a little merit or demerit in the last, as having had some hand in making you a punster; but the wit of the first is keen, and all your own.

Two of the former members of the Junto you tell me are departed this life, Potts and Parsons.[54] Odd characters both of them. Parsons a wise man, that often acted foolishly; Potts a wit, that seldom acted wisely.

If _enough_ were the means to make a man happy, one had always the _means_ of happiness, without ever enjoying the _thing_; the other had always the _thing_, without ever possessing the _means_. Parsons, even in his prosperity, always fretting; Potts, in the midst of his poverty, ever laughing. It seems, then, that happiness in this life rather depends on internals than externals; and that, besides the natural effects of wisdom and virtue, vice and folly, there is such a thing as a happy or an unhappy const.i.tution. They were both our friends, and loved us. So, peace to their shades. They had their virtues as well as their foibles; they were both honest men, and that alone, as the world goes, is one of the greatest of characters. They were old acquaintances, in whose company I formerly enjoyed a great deal of pleasure, and I cannot think of losing them, without concern and regret.

I shall, as you suppose, look on every opportunity you give me of doing you service, as a favour, because it will afford me pleasure. I know how to make you ample returns for such favours, by giving you the pleasure of building me a house. You may do it without losing any of your own time; it will only take some part of that you now spend in other folks'

business. It is only jumping out of their waters into mine.

I am grieved for our friend Syng's loss. You and I, who esteem him, and have valuable sons ourselves, can sympathize with him sincerely. I hope yours is perfectly recovered, for your sake as well as for his own. I wish he may be, in every respect, as good and as useful as his father. I need not wish him more; and can only add, that I am, with great esteem, dear friend, yours affectionately,

B. FRANKLIN.

P.S. I rejoice to hear of the prosperity of the Hospital, and send the wafers. I do not quite like your absenting yourself from that good old club, the Junto. Your more frequent presence might be a means of keeping them from being all engaged in measures not the best for public welfare.

I exhort you, therefore, to return to your duty; and, as the Indians say, to confirm my words, I send you a Birmingham tile. I thought the neatness of the figures would please you.

TO MRS. JANE MECOM

London, September 16, 1758.

DEAR SISTER,

I received your favour of June 17. I wonder you have had no letter from me since my being in England. I have wrote you at least two, and I think a third before this, and what was next to waiting on you in person, sent you my picture. In June last I sent Benny a trunk of books, and wrote to him; I hope they are come to hand, and that he meets with encouragement in his business. I congratulate you on the conquest of Cape Breton, and hope as your people took it by praying, the first time, you will now pray that it may never be given up again, which you then forgot. Billy is well, but in the country. I left him at Tunbridge Wells, where we spent a fortnight, and he is now gone with some company to see Portsmouth. We have been together over a great part of England this summer, and among other places, visited the town our father was born in, and found some relations in that part of the country still living.

Our cousin Jane Franklin, daughter of our uncle John, died about a year ago. We saw her husband, Robert Page, who gave us some old letters to his wife, from uncle Benjamin. In one of them, dated Boston, July 4, 1723, he writes that your uncle Josiah has a daughter Jane, about twelve years old, a good-humoured child. So keep up to your character, and don't be angry when you have no letters. In a little book he sent her, called "None but Christ," he wrote an acrostick on her name, which for namesake's sake, as well as the good advice it contains, I transcribe and send you, viz.

"Illuminated from on high, And s.h.i.+ning brightly in your sphere, Ne'er faint, but keep a steady eye, Expecting endless pleasures there.

"Flee vice as you'd a serpent flee; Raise _faith_ and _hope_ three stories higher, And let Christ's endless love to thee Ne'er cease to make thy love aspire.

Kindness of heart by words express, Let your obedience be sincere, In prayer and praise your G.o.d address, Nor cease, till he can cease to hear."

After professing truly that I had a great esteem and veneration for the pious author, permit me a little to play the commentator and critic on these lines. The meaning of _three stories higher_ seems somewhat obscure. You are to understand, then, that _faith_, _hope_, and _charity_ have been called the three steps of Jacob's ladder, reaching from earth to heaven; our author calls them _stories_, likening religion to a building, and these are the three stories of the Christian edifice.

Thus improvement in religion is called _building up_ and _edification_.

_Faith_ is then the ground floor, _hope_ is up one pair of stairs. My dear beloved Jenny, don't delight so much to dwell in those lower rooms, but get as fast as you can into the garret, for in truth the best room in the house is _charity_. For my part, I wish the house was turned upside down; 'tis so difficult (when one is fat) to go up stairs; and not only so, but I imagine _hope_ and _faith_ may be more firmly built upon _charity_, than _charity_ upon _faith_ and _hope_. However that may be, I think it the better reading to say--

"Raise faith and hope one story higher."