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In the 1930's THE SPENCER PRESS published some twenty volumes of literary
classics. These books were intended to have "a cultural and educational background that would tend
to broaden the vision and develop the inner resources of the reader . . . books that were
sufficiently thrilling and popular in their appeal to capture the imagination and interest of
every member of the family." (Ref. 1)
Some five volumes of these books existed in the bookcase of my parents
and made it into my library after their deaths. I was born in 1936, but had never taken an interest
in reading them. However, in October of 2019, I belatedly decided to read The Autobiography
of Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanac and Other Papers which was published in
the year I was born, by THE SPENCER PRESS. Included in this text was an article from POOR
RICHARD’S ALMANAC which Franklin wrote in 1780 when he was 74 years old, suffering from the
gout and living, at that time, in France.
Franklin often took on problems of his time, including his personal
problems, with humor. One of his personal problems was gout, from which he suffered throughout
his life, and which caused him tremendous discomfort in his legs and feet. During one particularly
painful attack, Franklin wrote an imaginary dialogue between "Madam Gout" and himself. His advice
from "Madam Gout" is as relevant to good health today as it was at the time Franklin composed the
dialogue. Read what Benjamin Franklin advised nearly 230 years ago and decide for yourself. You
may also want to decide whether or not Franklin deserved the title of "First American
Humorist".
"Franklin developed a satirical style of writing that examined the
political, personal, and social issues of the time. Whether he was poking fun at conservative
Bostonians or laughing at the battle of the sexes, Franklin's style was entertaining, but carried
a message. His satirical pieces 'made 'em laugh' but also 'made 'em think.' "
(Ref. 2)
When Benjamin Franklin served as the American Ambassador to France, he
lived in Passy near the unfortunate Princesse de Lamballe, another gout sufferer. The Dialogue
Between Franklin and the Gout refers to this period of his life in France. Here's the
Dialogue Between Franklin and the Gout as written by Franklin and reproduced in
Reference 3.
{This playful conversation by Benjamin Franklin is excerpted from a collection
published in 1914, The Oxford Book of American Essays, chosen by Brander
Matthews.}
Midnight, 22 October, 1780
FRANKLIN. Eh! Oh! eh! What have I done to merit these cruel sufferings?
GOUT. Many things; you have ate and drank too freely, and too much indulged those
legs of yours in their indolence.
FRANKLIN. Who is it that accuses me?
GOUT. It is I, even I, the GOUT.
FRANKLIN. What! my enemy in person?
GOUT. No, not your enemy.
FRANKLIN. I repeat it, my enemy; for you would not only torment my body to death,
but ruin my good name; you reproach me as a glutton and a tippler; now all the world, that knows
me, will allow that I am neither the one nor the other.
GOUT. The world may think as it pleases; it is always very complaisant to itself,
and sometimes to its friends; but I very well know that the quantity of meat and drink proper for
a man, who takes a reasonable degree of exercise, would be too much for another, who never takes
any.
FRANKLIN. I take—eh! oh!—as much exercise—eh!—as I can, Madam GOUT.
You know my sedentary state, and on that account, it would seem, Madam GOUT, as if
you might spare me a little, seeing it is not altogether my own fault.
GOUT. Not a jot; your rhetoric and your politeness are thrown away; your apology
avails nothing. If your situation in life is a sedentary one, your amusements, your recreation,
at least, should be active. You ought to walk or ride; or, if the weather prevents that, play at
billiards. But let us examine your course of life. While the mornings are long, and you have
leisure to go abroad, what do you do? Why, instead of gaining an appetite for breakfast, by
salutary exercise, you amuse yourself with books, pamphlets, or newspapers, which commonly are
not worth the reading. Yet you eat an inordinate breakfast, four dishes of tea, with cream, and
one or two buttered toasts, with slices of hung beef, which I fancy are not things the most
easily digested. Immediately afterwards you sit down to write at your desk, or converse with
persons who apply to you on business. Thus the time passes till one, without any kind of bodily
exercise. But all this I could pardon, in regard, as you say, to your sedentary condition. But
what is your practice after dinner? Walking in the beautiful gardens of those friends with whom
you have dined would be the choice of men of sense; yours is to be fixed down to chess, where you
are found engaged for two or three hours! This is your perpetual recreation, which is the least
eligible of any for a sedentary man, because, instead of accelerating the motion of the fluids,
the rigid attention it requires helps to retard the circulation and obstruct internal secretions.
Wrapt in the speculations of this wretched game, you destroy your constitution. What can be
expected from such a course of living, but a body replete with stagnant humors, ready to fall
prey to all kinds of dangerous maladies, if I, the GOUT, did not occasionally
bring you relief by agitating those humors, and so purifying or dissipating them? If it was in
some nook or alley in Paris, deprived of walks, that you played awhile at chess after dinner,
this might be excusable; but the same taste prevails with you in Passy, Auteuil, Montmartre, or
Sanoy, places where there are the finest gardens and walks, a pure air, beautiful women, and
most agreeable and instructive conversation; all which you might enjoy by frequenting the walks.
But these are rejected for this abominable game of chess. Fie, then, Mr. Franklin! But amidst my
instructions, I had almost forgot to administer my wholesome corrections; so take that twinge,
—and that.
FRANKLIN. Oh! eh! oh! Ohhh! As much instruction as you please, Madam
GOUT, and as many reproaches; but pray, Madam, a truce with your
corrections!
GOUT. No, Sir, no, - I will not abate a particle of what is so much for your
good, - therefore --
FRANKLIN. Oh! ehhh!—It is not fair to say I take no exercise, when I do very
often, going out to dine and returning in my carriage.
GOUT. That, of all imaginable exercises, is the most slight and insignificant,
if you allude to the motion of a carriage suspended on springs. By observing the degree of heat
obtained by different kinds of motion, we may form an estimate of the quantity of exercise given
by each. Thus, for example, if you turn out to walk in winter with cold feet, in an hour’s time
you will be in a glow all over; ride on horseback, the same effect will scarcely be perceived by
four hours' round trotting; but if you loll in a carriage, such as you have mentioned, you may
travel all day and gladly enter the last inn to warm your feet by a fire. Flatter yourself then
no longer, that half an hour’s airing in your carriage deserves the name of exercise. Providence
has appointed few to roll in carriages, while he has given to all a pair of legs, which are
machines infinitely more commodious and serviceable. Be grateful, then, and make a proper use
of yours. Would you know how they forward the circulation of your fluids, in the very action of
transporting you from place to place; observe when you walk, that all your weight is alternately
thrown from one leg to the other; this occasions a great pressure on the vessels of the foot,
and repels their contents; when relieved, by the weight being thrown on the other foot, the
vessels of the first are allowed to replenish, and, by a return of this weight, this repulsion
again succeeds; thus accelerating the circulation of the blood. The heat produced in any given
time depends on the degree of this acceleration; the fluids are shaken, the humors attenuated,
the secretions facilitated, and all goes well; the cheeks are ruddy, and health is established.
Behold your fair friend at Auteuil; a lady who received from bounteous nature more really useful
science than half a dozen such pretenders to philosophy as you have been able to extract from all
your books. When she honors you with a visit, it is on foot. She walks all hours of the day, and
leaves indolence, and its concomitant maladies, to be endured by her horses. In this, see at once
the preservative of her health and personal charms. But when you go to Auteuil, you must have your
carriage, though it is no farther from Passy to Auteuil than from Auteuil to Passy.
FRANKLIN. Your reasonings grow very tiresome.
GOUT. I stand corrected. I will be silent and continue my office; take that,
and that.
FRANKLIN. Oh! Ohh! Talk on, I pray you.
GOUT. No, no; I have a good number of twinges for you to-night, and you may be
sure of some more to-morrow.
FRANKLIN. What, with such a fever! I shall go distracted. Oh! eh! Can no one
bear it for me?
GOUT. Ask that of your horses; they have served you faithfully.
FRANKLIN. How can you so cruelly sport with my torments?
GOUT. Sport! I am very serious. I have here a list of offenses against your own
health distinctly written, and can justify every stroke inflicted on you.
FRANKLIN. Read it then.
GOUT. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly mention some
particulars.
FRANKLIN. Proceed. I am all attention.
GOUT. Do you remember how often you have promised yourself, the following
morning, a walk in the grove of Boulogne, in the garden de la Muette, or in your own garden,
nd have violated your promise, alleging, at one time, it was too cold, at another too warm,
too windy, too moist, or what else you pleased; when in truth it was too nothing, but your
insuperable love of ease?
FRANKLIN. That I confess may have happened occasionally, probably ten times
in a year.
GOUT. Your confession is very far short of the truth; the gross amount is
one hundred and ninety-nine times.
FRANKLIN. Is it possible?
GOUT. So possible, that it is fact; you may rely on the accuracy of my statement.
You know M. Brillon’s gardens, and what fine walks they contain; you know the handsome flight of
an hundred steps, which lead from the terrace above to the lawn below. You have been in the
practice of visiting this amiable family twice a week, after dinner, and it is a maxim of
your own, that "a man may take as much exercise in walking a mile, up and down stairs, as in
ten on level ground." What an opportunity was here for you to have had exercise in both these
ways! Did you embrace it, and how often?
FRANKLIN. I cannot immediately answer that question.
GOUT. I will do it for you; not once.
FRANKLIN. Not once?
GOUT. Even so. During the summer you went there at six o’clock. You found the
charming lady, with her lovely children and friends, eager to walk with you, and entertain you
with their agreeable conversation; and what has been your choice? Why, to sit on the terrace,
satisfy yourself with the fine prospect, and passing your eye over the beauties of the garden
below, without taking one step to descend and walk about in them. On the contrary, you call for
tea and the chess-board; and lo! you are occupied in your seat till nine o’clock, and that
besides two hours' play after dinner; and then, instead of walking home, which would have
bestirred you a little, you step into your carriage. How absurd to suppose that all this
carelessness can be reconcilable with health, without my interposition!
FRANKLIN. I am convinced now of the justness of Poor Richard’s remark, that
"Our debts and our sins are always greater than we think for."
GOUT. So it is. You philosophers are sages in your maxims, and fools in your
conduct.
FRANKLIN. But do you charge among my crimes, that I return in a carriage from
M. Brillon’s?
GOUT. Certainly; for, having been seated all the while, you cannot object the
fatigue of the day, and cannot want therefore the relief of a carriage.
FRANKLIN. What then would you have me do with my carriage?
GOUT. Burn it if you choose; you would at least get heat out of it once in
this way; or, if you dislike that proposal, here’s another for you; observe the poor peasants,
who work in the vineyards and grounds about the villages of Passy, Auteuil, Chaillot, etc.; you
may find every day among these deserving creatures, four or five old men and women, bent and
perhaps crippled by weight of years, and too long and too great labor. After a most fatiguing
day, these people have to trudge a mile or two to their smoky huts. Order your coachman to set
them down. This is an act that will be good for your soul; and, at the same time, after your
visit to the Brillons, if you return on foot, that will be good for your body.
FRANKLIN. Ah! how tiresome you are!
GOUT. Well, then, to my office; it should not be forgotten that I am your
physician. There.
FRANKLIN. Ohhh! what a devil of a physician!
GOUT. How ungrateful you are to say so! Is it not I who, in the character of
your physician, have saved you from the palsy, dropsy, and apoplexy? one or other of which
would have done for you long ago, but for me.
FRANKLIN. I submit, and thank you for the past, but entreat the discontinuance
of your visits for the future; for, in my mind, one had better die than be cured so dolefully.
Permit me just to hint, that I have also not been unfriendly to you. I never feed physician or
quack of any kind, to enter the list against you; if then you do not leave me to my repose, it
may be said you are ungrateful too.
GOUT. I can scarcely acknowledge that as any objection. As to quacks, I despise
them; they may kill you indeed, but cannot injure me. And, as to regular physicians, they are at
last convinced that the gout, in such a subject as you are, is no disease, but a
remedy; and wherefore cure a remedy?—but to our business,—there.
FRANKLIN. Oh! oh!—for Heaven’s sake leave me! and I promise faithfully never
more to play at chess, but to take exercise daily, and live temperately.
GOUT. I know you too well. You promise fair; but, after a few months of good
health, you will return to your old habits; your fine promises will be forgotten like the forms
of the last year’s clouds. Let us then finish the account, and I will go. But I leave you with
an assurance of visiting you again at a proper time and place; for my object is your good, and
you are sensible now that I am your real friend.
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References:
- WORLD’S GREATEST LITERATURE: Autobiography of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, Benjamin Franklin,
The Spencer Press, 1936.
- Benjamin Franklin . Wit and Wisdom . Franklin Funnies, pbs.org,
2002.
- Dialogue Between Franklin and the GOUT, Benjamin Franklin,
americanliterature.com, Accessed 22 October 2019.
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