Volume Ii Part 28 (1/2)

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, G.o.d 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 a.s.sembled 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; _G.o.d 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 Amus.e.m.e.nts, 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 _wis.h.i.+ng_ 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.