A Benjamin Franklin Reader (16 page)

T.
I wish we may. Ill consider of what you’ve said, and wish you well.

S.
Farewell.

In the preface for his 1737 edition, Poor Richard turns his attack on another almanac writer, John Jerman, for making weather predictions that were so vague as to be useless. He does concede, however, that his own weather predictions are sometimes off by a few days. This he blames on his “printer” (i.e., Franklin) for moving his predictions around a bit in order to fit in the holidays. Since he had noted the previous year that Franklin was getting the credit for what Poor Richard wrote, it was only fair that he also take the blame.

P
OOR
R
ICHARD
’
S
A
LMANAC FOR
1737

Courteous and kind Reader,

This is the fifth time I have appeared in public, chalking out the future year for my honest countrymen, and foretelling what shall, and what may, and what may not come to pass; in which I have the pleasure to find that I have given general satisfaction. Indeed, among the multitude of our astrological predictions, ’tis no wonder if some few 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 we almanac-makers may
miss it
in other things, I believe it will be generally allowed
that we always hit the day of the month,
and that I suppose is esteemed one of the most useful things in an almanac.

As to the weather, if I were to fall into the method my brother J——n sometimes uses, and tell you,
snow here or in New England, rain here or in South Carolina, cold to the northward, warm to the southward,
and the like, whatever errors I might commit, I should be something more secure of not being detected in them: but I consider, it will be of no service to any body to know what weather it is 1000 miles off, and therefore I always set down positively what weather my reader will have, be he where he will at the time. We modestly desire only the favorable allowance of
a day or two before
and
a day or two after
the precise day against which the weather is set; and if it does not come to pass accordingly, let the fault be laid upon the printer, who, ’tis very like, may have transposed or misplaced it, perhaps for the conveniency of putting in his holidays: and since, in spite of all I can say, people will give him great part of the
credit
of making my almanacs, ’tis but reasonable he should take some share of the
blame.

I must not omit here to thank the public for the gracious and kind encouragement they have hitherto given me: but if the generous purchaser of my labors could see how often his
five pence
helps 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.

Franklin was ambiguous when writing about drinking. He was a temperate man who nevertheless enjoyed the joviality of taverns. In one famous
Gazette
piece, destined to become a poster in countless pubs, he produced a “Drinker’s Dictionary” listing 228 or so synonyms for being drunk.

T
HE
P
ENNSYLVANIA
G
AZETTE
, J
ANUARY
13, 1737

’Tis an old remark, that vice always endeavors to assume the appearance of virtue: thus covetousness calls itself
prudence;
prodigality would be thought
generosity;
and so of others. This perhaps arises hence, that mankind naturally and universally approve virtue in their hearts, and detest vice; and therefore, whenever through temptation they fall into a practice of the latter, they would if possible conceal it from themselves as well as others, under some other name than that which properly belongs to it.

But DRUNKENNESS is a very unfortunate vice in this respect. It bears no kind of similitude with any sort of virtue, from which it might possibly borrow a name; and is therefore reduced to the wretched necessity of being express’s by distant round-about phrases, and of perpetually varying those phrases, as often as they come to be well understood to signify plainly that A MAN IS DRUNK.

Though every one may possibly recollect a dozen at least of the expressions used on this occasion, yet I think no one who has not much frequented taverns would imagine the number of them so great as it really is, it may therefore surprise as well as divert the sober reader, to have the sight of a new piece, lately communicated to me, entitled

A

He is Addled, He’s casting up his Accounts, He’s Afflicted, He’s in his Airs.

B

He’s Biggy, Bewitch’d, Block and Block, Boozy, Bowz’d, Been at Barbadoes, Piss’d in the Brook, Drunk as a Wheel-Barrow, Burdock’d, Buskey, Buzzey, Has Stole a Manchet out of the Brewer’s Basket, His Head is full of Bees, Has been in the Bibbing Plot, Has drank more than he has bled, He’s Bungey, As Drunk as a Beggar, He sees the Bears, He’s kiss’d black Betty, He’s had a Thump over the Head with Sampson’s Jawbone, He’s Bridgey.

C

He’s Cat, Cagrin’d, Capable, Cramp’d, Cherubimical, Cherry Merry, Wamble Crop’d, Crack’d, Concern’d, Half Way to Concord, Has taken a Chirriping-Glass, Got Corns in his Head, A Cup to much, Coguy, Copey, He’s heat his Copper, He’s Crocus, Catch’d, He cuts his Capers, He’s been in the Cellar, He’s in his Cups, Non Compos, Cock’d, Curv’d, Cut, Chipper, Chickery, Loaded his Cart, He’s been too free with the Creature, Sir Richard has taken off his Considering Cap, He’s Chap-fallen.

D

He’s Disguiz’d, He’s got a Dish, Kill’d his Dog, Took his Drops, It is a Dark Day with him, He’s a Dead Man, Has Dipp’d his Bill, He’s Dagg’d, He’s seen the Devil.

E

He’s Prince Eugene, Enter’d, Wet both Eyes, Cock Ey’d, Got the Pole Evil, Got a brass Eye, Made an Example, He’s Eat a Toad & half for Breakfast. In his Element.

F

He’s Fishey, Fox’d, Fuddled, Sore Footed, Frozen, Well in for’t, Owes no Man a Farthing, Fears no Man, Crump Footed, Been to France, Flush’d, Froze his Mouth, Fetter’d, Been to a Funeral, His Flag is out, Fuzl’d, Spoke with his Friend, Been at an Indian Feast.

G

He’s Glad, Groatable, Gold-headed, Glaiz’d, Generous, Booz’d the Gage, As Dizzy as a Goose, Been before George, Got the Gout, Had a Kick in the Guts, Been with Sir John Goa, Been at Geneva, Globular, Got the Glanders.

H

Half and Half, Hardy, Top Heavy, Got by the Head, Hiddey, Got on his little Hat, Hammerish, Loose in the Hilts, Knows not the way Home, Got the Hornson, Haunted with Evil Spirits, Has Taken Hippocrates grand Elixir.

I

He’s Intoxicated.

J

Jolly, Jagg’d, Jambled, Going to Jerusalem, Jocular, Been to Jerico, Juicy.

K

He’s a King, Clips the King’s English, Seen the French King, The King is his Cousin, Got Kib’d Heels, Knapt, Het his Kettle.

L

He’s in Liquor, Lordly, He makes Indentures with his Leggs, Well to Live, Light, Lappy, Limber.

M

He sees two Moons, Merry, Middling, Moon-Ey’d, Muddled, Seen a Flock of Moons, Maudlin, Mountous, Muddy, Rais’d his Monuments, Mellow.

N

He’s eat the Cocoa Nut, Nimptopsical, Got the Night Mare.

O

He’s Oil’d, Eat Opium, Smelt of an Onion, Oxycrocium, Overset.

P

He drank till he gave up his Half-Penny, Pidgeon Ey’d, Pungey, Priddy, As good conditioned as a Puppy, Has scalt his Head Pan, Been among the Philistines, In his Prosperity, He’s been among the Philippians, He’s contending with Pharaoh, Wasted his Paunch, He’s Polite, Eat a Pudding Bagg.

Q

He’s Quarrelsome.

R

He’s Rocky, Raddled, Rich, Religious, Lost his Rudder, Ragged, Rais’d, Been too free with Sir Richard, Like a Rat in Trouble.

S

He’s Stitch’d, Seafaring, In the Sudds, Strong, Been in the Sun, As Drunk as David’s Sow, Swampt, His Skin is full, He’s Steady, He’s Stiff, He’s burnt his Shoulder, He’s got his Top Gallant Sails out, Seen the yellow Star, As Stiff as a Ring-bolt, Half Seas over, His Shoe pinches him, Staggerish, It is Star-light with him, He carries too much Sail, Stew’d Stubb’d, Soak’d, Soft, Been too free with Sir John Strawberry, He’s right before the Wind with all his Studding Sails out, Has Sold his Senses.

T

He’s Top’d, Tongue-ty’d, Tann’d, Tipium Grove, Double Tongu’d, Topsy Turvey, Tipsey, Has Swallow’d a Tavern Token, He’s Thaw’d, He’s in a Trance, He’s Trammel’d.

V

He makes Virginia Fence, Valiant, Got the Indian Vapours.

W

The Malt is above the Water, He’s Wise, He’s Wet, He’s been to the Salt Water, He’s Water-soaken, He’s very Weary, Out of the Way.

The phrases in this dictionary are not (like most of our terms of art) borrowed from foreign languages, neither are they collected from the writings of the learned in our own, but gather’s wholly from the modern tavern-conversation of tipplers. I do not doubt but that there are many more in use; and I was even tempted to add a new one my self under the letter B, to wit,
brutify’d:
but upon consideration, I fear’s being guilty of injustice to the brute creation, if I represented drunkenness as a beastly vice, since, ’tis well-known, that the brutes are in general a very sober sort of people.

By the time he was ready to publish his fifth edition of Poor Richard’s in 1738, Franklin was publishing the most popular almanac in the colonies. Humor had been the key to his success. In a little parody he published as a letter to his paper from “Philomath,” the name for almanac writers, he took the opportunity to poke fun at his rivals for being far too weighty and serious.

T
HE
P
ENNSYLVANIA
G
AZETTE
, O
CTOBER
20, 1737

Sir,

As I am a great lover of all works of ingenuity, and the authors of them, so more especially am I a great reader and admirer of those
labors of the learned,
called
almanacs.

As I am a considerable proficient in this sort of learning; and as at this time of the year, copies of almanacs for the next year usually come to the press, long before they are wanted: and as I have laid out many a six-pence among your customers, the profit whereof has in a great measure redounded to you: so I may reasonably hope to be looked on as a good customer, and claim a favorable place in your paper.

I have a large volume in manuscript by me, on the important subject of
almanac-making,
which I may in time communicate to the public; but at present I am willing to oblige them, with only a taste of my skill, which (if I have any title to the art of prognostication) will certainly make them long for the whole.

My present design, is to give to you and the public,
a short essay,
upon the talents requisite in
an almanac-writer,
by which it will plainly appear, how much the community is indebted to men of such
great and uncommon parts and sagacity.

An
almanac-writer,
sir, should be born one like a poet; for as I read among the works of the learned,
poeta nascitur non fit;
so it is a maxim with me, that
almanackorum scriptor nascitur not fit.
Gifts of nature, sir, completed by rules of art, are indispensably necessary to make a great man this way, as well as any other.

The first thing requisite in an
almanac-writer,
is,
that he should be descended of a great family, and bear a coat of arms,
this gives luster and authority to what a man writes, and makes the common people to believe, that
certainly this is a great man.
I have known almanac-writers so curious and exact in this particular, that they have been at the expense and charge of a wooden cut in the frontispiece, with their arms emblazoned, and surrounded with a label, expressing the name of the family. This, sir, made a great impression, I confess, upon myself and others, and made those works to go off well.

If the author who was
born to be an almanac-maker,
has the misfortune to be meanly descended, but yet, has a true genius; if he has by him, or can borrow a book, entitled the peerage of
England,
he may safely borrow a coat, (if there happens to be a peer of his own name) by reason, we are so great a way distant from the earl marshal of that part of
Great Britain
called
England.

The next talent requisite in the forming of
a complete almanac-writer,
is a sort of gravity, which keeps a due medium between dullness and nonsense, and yet has a mixture of both. Now you know, sir, that grave men are taken by the common people always for wise men. Gravity is just as good a picture of wisdom, as pertness is of wit, and therefore very taking. And to complete an almanac-maker, in this particular, he should write sentences, and throw out hints, that neither himself, nor any body else can understand or know the meaning of. And this is also a necessary talent. I will give you some instances of this way of writing, which are almost inimitable, such as these,
Leeds, Jan.
23. 1736. Beware, the design is suspected. Feb. 23.
The world is bad with somebody.
Mar. 27.
Crimes not remitted.
April 10.
Cully mully puff appears.
May 21
the sword of Satan is drawn.
June 7.
The cat eat the candle.
Now, sir, why should the sword of Satan be drawn to kill the cat on the 21st day of
May,
when it plainly appears in print, that the cat did not eat the candle till the 7th of June following? This question no man but an astrologer can possibly answer.

In the next place, I lay it down as a certain maxim or position, that
an almanac-writer should not be a finished poet, but a piece of one,
and qualified to write, what we vulgarly call doggerel; and that his poetry should bear a near resemblance to his prose. I must beg
Horace’s
and my lord
Roscommon’s
pardon, if I dissent from them in this one particular. I will give you their rule in my lord’s English translation, and save myself the trouble of transcribing the Latin of
Horace.

This might for all I know be a rule for poetry among the ancients, but the moderns have found it troublesome, and the most of them, have wholly neglected it for that reason. Witness the author’s verses, whose praise I am now celebrating,
December
1736.

I do not pretend to say, that this is like the poetry of Horace, or lord
Roscommon,
but it is the poesy of an astrologer, it is his own and not borrowed; it is occult and mysterious. It has a due degree of that sort of gravity, which I have mentioned: in short, it is formed upon the rules which I have laid down in this short essay.

I could further prove to you, if I was to go about it, that
an almanac-writer
ought not only to be a piece of a wit, but a very wag; and that he should have the art also to make people believe, that he is almost a conjurer, &c. But these things I reserved for my greater work, and in the mean time, until that appears, I desire to remain,
Sir, Your very humble Servant,

Philomath