Economy and Tact by Daniel Wise

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Nov 27, 1879

Economy and Tact.

By Daniel Wise

As THE acquisition of knowledge depends more upon what a man remembers than upon the quantity of his reading, so the acquisition of property depends more upon what is saved than upon what is earned. The largest reservoirs, though fed by abundant and living springs, will fail to supply their owners with water, if secret leaking-places are permitted to drain off their contents. In like manner, though by his skill and energy a man may convert his business into a flowing Pactolus, ever depositing its golden sands in his coffers, yet, through the numerous wastes of unfrugal habits, he may live embarrassed and die poor. Economy is the guardian of property—the good genius whose presence guides the footsteps of every prosperous and successful man.

Economy is a trite and forbidding theme. The young man will feel tempted to pass it by, and proceed to the next chapter. But I beseech him to read on, since his social advancement depends, in a good degree, upon his frugality. He had better be doomed, like the sons of ancient Jacob in Egypt, to make bricks without straw, than to enter the scenes of active life without economy for a companion. Study well, therefore, young man, the following picture:—

Ralph Montcalm is a merchant's clerk, enjoying a fair salary. His age is about twenty-two; his appearance is genteel, without foppishness; his manners are gentlemanly and polite, without affectation. By strict fidelity to the duties of his station, he has gained a high reputation for industry, energy, and integrity. He is also understood to be worth a few hundred dollars, which he has invested with great caution and judgment, where it will yield him a safe and profitable return. The general impression concerning him, among the merchants in his vicinity, is, that he will one day be a man of some importance in society. A shrewd business man remarked, one day, to his employer: “Your clerk has the elements of a successful merchant.”

“Yes, sir; Ralph is destined to wield considerable influence, ‘on change,’ one of these days; and being very economical in his habits, he can hardly fail of becoming a rich man.”

Such was the reply of Ralph's master. It showed that the clerk was acting on those principles which, in the estimation of experienced men, insure success. Yet Ralph's conduct found no sympathy from the fashionable disciples of dandyism, who filled situations similar to his own, as will be seen by the following conversations.

Ralph was walking home, one evening, from his counting-room, when a fellow-clerk, who was quite an exquisite in his own estimation, overtook him. He was puffing a cigar after the most approved fashion. Stepping up to Ralph, he touched him on the arm and said:—

“Good-evening, Mr. Montcalm!”

“Good-evening, sir!” replied Ralph to this salutation; a few common-places passed between them, and then the dandy, taking out his case of Havanas, said:—

“Will you take a cigar with me, Mr. Montcalm?”

“I thank you, sir, but I never smoke!” replied Ralph, with an emphasis which left no room for persuasion.

“Never smoke!” exclaimed the astonished dandy, replacing the cigar-case in his pocket. “What on earth can induce you to deny yourself so delicious a luxury?”

“It is a luxury that costs too much, sir, for me to indulge in it. I really cannot afford it.”

“O, I see,” retorted the smoker, as he puffed forth an enormous column of smoke from his steaming mouth; “you belong to the race of misers, and are set on saving your money, instead of enjoying life as it passes. For my part, I despise all such stinginess, and calculate to enjoy all the pleasure money will buy.”

Ralph took no notice of his companion's impolite insinuations, but in a kindly tone answered: “The use of tobacco, in every form, is positively injurious to health and intellect; as a habit, it is filthy, vulgar, and disgusting, to all but those who use it. Besides this, it makes a heavy and constant drain on the purse. I confess, I am too stingy to pay so high a price for a luxury which would shorten my life, fill me with disease, and render me disgusting to others. I would rather save my money for high and noble uses.”

This sensible reply was too much for the smoker to endure. He therefore gruffly replied: “You talk more like a Puritan than a gentleman,” and hurried forward, leaving Ralph to his reflections, which were certainly more agreeable than the company of such an empty-brained exquisite.

On another occasion, he was thrown into the society of another of these contemptible children of fashion, who, in the course of conversation, inquired: “Where do you board, Mr. Montcalm?”

“At Mrs. Brown's, in G—— street.”

“Indeed! How can you think of boarding in such an unfashionable street?”

“It is my fashion to seek respectability, comfort, cleanliness, and purity, in my home; and all these I have at Mrs. Brown's.”

“That may be; but G—— street is such an unfashionable street!—and Mrs. Brown is a poor woman.”

“Very true, but still I find genuine comfort, abundant food, and amiable society, at her house; and at a price which I can well afford to pay. What, then, should I gain by going up town to one of our fashionable houses? What do you pay, where do you board?”

“I pay rather high, in proportion to my salary, to be sure. My board costs me six dollars a week. But then everything is in style; the boarders are all fashionable young men, and I get into some of the highest society in the city through their influence besides gaining the reputation of being fashionable myself.”

“But how do you manage to meet all your expenses? Your salary is only five hundred dollars per annum. You pay over three hundred dollars for board. Your other expenses are in proportion. I do not see how you can ever expect to rise above your clerkship, or even to marry, without saving something for capital; and saving, according to your statements, is out of the question.”

“Saving! Don't talk of saving, Mr. Montcalm! I should be very happy to be out of debt. As to business or marriage, I dare not think of either, unless some good-natured merchant should be foolish enough to make me his partner.”

“You may well say foolish; for, who but a ‘good-natured fool’ would dream of taking you, or any other slave of fashionable life, into partnership? For myself, I intend both to marry and to enter into business, at a proper time; hence, I cannot afford to be a fashionable young man. It costs too much. I prefer the real comfort of a respectable home, and the gains of frugality, to the ruinous reputation of being ‘a man of fashion.’ I wish you good-morning, sir.”

“Good-morning, Mr. Montcalm,” replied the fashionable young gentleman; and they parted, the former to mount the path of honor, the latter to flutter awhile, like a stupid moth, around the lamp of fashion, to burn his wings, and then to crawl in obscurity to an unhonored grave.

The reader must view Ralph Montcalm in yet another scene. It is laid in the counting-room of a merchant with whom Ralph had been transacting some business in his employer's behalf. Just before he left, a gentleman entered on an errand of benevolence. A poor family, in very destitute circumstances, needed aid to keep them from starvation. So stated the visitor, and then he asked:—

“Gentlemen, what will you give?”

“Too poor to give!” one of the clerks abruptly replied. He was well known for his love of driving a la tandem along the city avenues.

“It costs me so much to live, I can't give anything!” said another, whose very costly and fashionable attire placed his statement above suspicion.

“Havn't a dollar to spare!” bluntly responded a third, who was remarkable for being almost buried under a load of debts.

“Put me down two dollars,” said Ralph, in a half whisper, to the collector, as he quietly handed him that amount.

“How is it that you can afford to give every one that asks? Your salary is no larger than ours, and yet we can hardly pay our bills. Giving, with us, is out of the question,” said the chief clerk to Ralph.

Ralph smiled, and replied: “Gentlemen, the difficulty is easily solved. You live high; I live moderately. You are extravagant; I economize. You wear the costliest clothing, and follow every changing fashion; I dress respectably, and avoid extremes. You spend large sums per annum on cigars, wines, riding, theaters, operas, balls, and costly suppers; I deny myself these indulgences, partly because of their cost, and partly because of their immoral tendencies. My pleasures are intellectual; they afford me higher and purer enjoyment than yours, and cost much less. Hence, while you are poor, I have money invested, and something to spare to alleviate the sorrows of others. Good morning, gentlemen.”

Such is the example of economy which I desire to urge upon you, young man, for your imitation. Not a miserly meanness, which denies itself the common comforts of life, and shuts itself within walls of triple steel against the appeals of benevolence; but such a manly, generous habit of expending your resources as will tend to improve your condition, without debasing your nature,—to make you a man of property, without sinking you to the sordid level of a miser. The principles which make such admirable economists as young Ralph Montcalm, are:—

1. Always let your expenditure be less than your income. This is the grand element of success in acquiring property. To carry it out requires resolution, self-denial, and self-reliance. But it must be done, or you must be a poor man all through life. If, for example, your income is six dollars a week, you must live on five, or four, if you can with decency. But, further:—

2. Little expenses must be carefully guarded against. I once saw a full-grown caterpillar borne along the garden path by an army of tiny ants, which had made him their captive; at another time I saw an insect, somewhat resembling a dragon-fly, bearing off a caterpillar by his own unaided strength. In both cases the victim perished; and it made little difference whether he was in the hands of a single dragon-fly, or of an army of ants. Thus many little expenses are as fatal to a young man's prosperity as a great speculation which ruins at a single blow. The former will as surely bear him to the grave of poverty as the latter. Hence, the pence so foolishly spent on cigars, confectionary, fruit, ice-creams, soda-water, etc., must be retained in the purse of the young man who intends to take rank in respectable society. If they escape, they will, in spite of all his resistance, be like the ant-army, and will bear him to a pauper's grave. Deny thyself, in little as in great things, is a necessary condition of prosperity.

3. Avoid the habit of getting into debt. Attention to the above maxims will make the observance of this one easy. Still there is, to some minds, such a fascination in the act of buying on credit, that they do it even when they have cash in their pockets. You must avoid this practice! Pay for what you purchase, at least until you begin business; and then buy very cautiously, and you will rarely buy what you do not need. To be in debt is to be enslaved; it is a prolific source of care; an occasion of temptation to extravagance; it often leads to falsehood, dishonesty, gambling, and destruction. Debt destroys more than the cholera. Therefore, young man, avoid debt!

4. Avoid littleness. You saw Ralph Montcalm ready to give to the poor. You must do the same, if not from pure benevolence of feeling, at least out of regard for yourself. Strict economy may lapse into sordid covetousness, and make the frugal man contemptibly mean. I have been told of a wealthy farmer, a professor of religion, who invited a student, just licensed to preach, to stay at his house during a series of religious meetings he was conducting in the neighborhood. When the young preacher was about to leave, the farmer accompanied him to the gate, expressing great pleasure for his visit and labors. Just before they parted, he said, “Mr. ——, I should like to make you a small present.”

“I thank you, sir,” said the young student, bowing acquiescence to the welcome suggestion.

The farmer then took a twenty-five cent coin from his pocket and said: “This is the smallest change I have. If the twelve and a half cents in change, you may keep the rest!”

“I have no silver about me,” replied the student as he leaped on to his horse, scarcely able to conceal the combined emotions of indignation and merriment which struggled within him for expression.

If this fact had not been related in my hearing by the aforesaid student, I could hardly have believed that any man could have acted with such contemptible littleness as that farmer; yet such is the meanness of spirit which will grow upon the man whose economy is not joined to some form of benevolent action. Therefore, I repeat the injunction,—avoid littleness, by carefully cultivating a genrous, philanthropic spirit amidst all your plans of frugality.

There is another element of success which is worthy of a few thoughts. I mean tact, or versatility—a power of self-adaptation to every new opening of Providence. A man of tact immediately fills a new position with naturalness, and however he himself may feel its embarrassments, he forces the impression upon others that he is just the man for the place. On the other hand, without tact, a man is impracticable. Change his sphere and he acts stiffly, awkwardly; he is like a stiff-jointed country recruit at his first drill; so uncouth are his movements that lookers-on exclaim, “He will never do!” Hence his friends lose their interest in his advancement. They fear to advance him, lest his clownishness should mortify their pride. He is left to pine in the obscurity of a lowly position.

But tact is the gift of nature! Yes! to some extent it is so. Versatility is easier to some than to others. That is, it requires less effort in some than in others, to adapt themselves to new relations to society. But even the versatility of the proudest sons of genius is the off-spring of self-culture. The man who shines in an exalted position, who appears in it at such perfect ease that one might infer he was born to fill it, has gained the confidence which inspires him with ease by previous self-cultivation. A man who is true to himself is always in advance of his actual position; hence, when called to higher posts, he moves into them and fills them with propriety and dignity. This is tact. And the mental training which creates tact is within the reach of every young man.

But what has religion to do with these elements of success in life? It might as properly be asked, what has an anchor to do with the safety of a ship? For, as the latter is held at a secure distance from the shore, notwithstanding the driving gale, so is a young man bound to the practice of economy and the cultivation of tact by the authoritative claims of a religion. Pride, sensuality, and custom, are like strong winds beating life's young voyager upon the rocks of prodigality, or the quicksands of extravagance. Religion anchors him fast by her strong principles. She exacts diligence, industry, and honesty by her precepts; she pictures the desolation of the spendthrift by her inimitable drawing of the prodigal son; she checks waste by teaching the doctrine of accountability to God for all we possess; thundering in every ear her call of “Give an account of thy stewardship!” Concerning the duty of fitting one's self to fill his station with honor, the precept of Paul to Timothy is apposite: “Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed;” and again, “Give thyself wholly” to the duties of thy vocation, “that thy profiting may appear to all.” This exhortation, self-applied by every young man, would constitute him, in a greater or less degree, a man of tact.

Thus does religion in the soul give vigor and fruitfulness to every element of prosperity in human character. Viewed in all its aspects, it justifies the beautiful figure of the good man in the song of the royal psalmist: “He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.”—Daniel Wise, in Young Man's Counsellor.