From 1732 to 1758, Benjamin Franklin published his Poor Richard’s Almanac that contained weather forecasts, practical household hits, puzzles, and other amusing writings. Franklin often filled the empty spaces in his almanac with wordplay and witty phrases, many of which are used to this day. Many of the most memorable phrases deal with being courteous, thrifty and self-sufficient.
In the 1757 version of the almanac, Franklin compiled his proverbs about industry, frugality and self-sufficiency into a prefix that took the form of a wise elderly man imparting the knowledge he gained from Poor Richard to a host of people waiting for an auction to start. This prefix was later published separately in a wildly popular essay called The Way to Wealth.
To this day, Franklin’s The Way to Wealth remains sage financial advice. The problem is that much like many of the old English texts, the essay is becoming less understandable to all of us slang-slingers with each passing day. Fortunately for you, I have taken some of my spare time over the past couple of months to piece together an updated translation that makes The Way to Wealth a much easier read.
Click here to read the eBook.
Photo by Maklay62 via Pixabay
Have you ever wondered why Benjamin Franklin is the only person featured on American paper currency who is not a former President of the United States? To find the answer, we must travel back to Ben Franklin’s day, but make a quick stop in an America on the brink of civil war.
When Abraham Lincoln took over the presidency, despite nearly one hundred years of existence, our fine country still did not have a federal, nation-wide currency. Realizing that war was eminent, and that a federal currency would be needed to fund and control war-time spending in the North, Mr. Lincoln ordered the first printing of the US federal dollar.
So, what did America do for money for the first hundred years? Would you believe that local banks printed currency notes themselves? You went to your bank, withdrew a note for a pre-designated amount and traded it with a store owner for goods on the pretense that the store owner could go to your bank and draw on the bank’s funds or have money put in his account to cover the amount of your purchase.
Bank notes back then worked much like a check works today. One of the main problems with this bank note system was that at any given time in pre-Lincoln America, up to 2/3 of the bank notes being passed around were counterfeit. In fact, one of the major British war efforts in the 1770s was to flood the American colonies with fake bank notes to destabilize our new, independent economy.
Some of the bank notes were easily forged by the monarchy, while others were very difficult to copy. And whose were the most difficult to copy? Why, the ones designed and printed by Mr. Benjamin Franklin of Philadelphia, or course. Hence, the well-deserved honor of gracing the $100 bill.
John Baskerville lived an interesting life, but the after-life of his “earthly” remains is a Gothic tale of Poe-tic proportions.
Baskerville had a lifelong passion for beautiful lettering and books. Around 1726, Baskerville moved to Birmingham, England and in 1738, he began experimenting with different types of papermaking, ink manufacturing, typefounding and printing. Baskerville invented his first of many typefaces in 1754 and most “serif” style fonts, even Times New Roman which was developed for the London Times newspaper, have been adaptations of Baskerville fonts.
Baskerville would later go on to be the printer for the Cambridge University Press, and ironically for an atheist, is best known for his Cambridge University printing of the Bible. Baskerville even became a close friend of Benjamin Franklin while working with Cambridge University.
Baskerville died in 1775 after a long, interesting life, but he could not have even imagined the journey his body was about to take. Baskerville’s will decreed that he did not care in which manner he was buried, but only that he not be buried on consecrated ground, so he was placed in a lead coffin and buried on the grounds of his home.
In 1791, the Baskerville home was destroyed in the Birmingham riots and the land was sold to John Ryland who left it to his son Samuel, who sold it to Thomas Gibson who cut a canal through the grounds to create wharf land.
In 1821, workers came across Baskerville’s coffin and though Baskerville’s descendants didn’t want it, Gibson did not want to bury it in consecrated ground per Baskerville’s original wishes, so he placed it in his warehouse, where after eight years it was placed in John Marston’s plumbing shop. Baskerville's coffin was placed in a corner and sometimes even used as a workbench.
After eight years in the plumbing shop, Martson’s curiosity got the best of him and he opened the coffin only to make on-lookers ill at the sight. Once having opened it, Marston didn’t want the coffin around anymore, so he applied to have it buried in his family’s vault at St. Philip’s Church, but permission was refused.
A bookseller by the name of Nott who knew and appreciated Baskerville’s work agreed to bury the coffin in the Nott family vault, so Marston put it in a wheel barrow, wheeled it across town and left it on the floor of the Nott vault at Christ Church.
In 1892, Baskerville’s coffin was finally encased in cement, of course after being opened by the curious again, and placed properly in the Nott vault. Then, in 1899, after only seven years of proper burial, nearly 125 years after his death, the Christ Church was demolished to make way for a shopping district and Baskerville’s remains, along with the remains of 600 others were finally laid to rest permanently at the Warstone Lane catacombs, although still against his wishes, in consecrated ground.
His body’s legacy and journey lasted much longer than Baskerville’s actual life.
