“I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the reality of this virtue [humility], but I had a good deal with regard to the appearance of it.” Benjamin Franklin

Benjamin Franklin’s 13 virtues

In his early twenties, Franklin decided he wanted to reach “moral perfection.” He first listed twelve virtues. It was a Quaker friend who told him, frankly, that he was proud and often arrogant in conversation, always contradicting and imposing his opinion. Franklin took it seriously and added the thirteenth: humility.

Each virtue came with a short precept, so there’d be no doubt about what it meant in practice:

  1. Temperance. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.
  2. Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.
  3. Order. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.
  4. Resolution. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.
  5. Frugality. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing.
  6. Industry. Lose no time; be always employed in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.
  7. Sincerity. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly.
  8. Justice. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty.
  9. Moderation. Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve.
  10. Cleanliness. Tolerate no uncleanness in body, clothes, or habitation.
  11. Tranquility. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.
  12. Chastity. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring; never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation.
  13. Humility. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

Two that spoke directly to me

Silence he placed second on purpose, because he wanted to break the habit of chattering and wanting to shine in conversation, and open room to listen and learn.

Humility, which he sums up as “imitate Socrates,” isn’t about diminishing yourself. Socrates taught by asking, not by asserting. That’s where Franklin picked up his language trick: he stopped saying “certainly,” “obviously,” “no doubt,” and started saying “it seems to me,” “if I’m not mistaken,” “I suppose.” The result: people closed up on him less, and when he was wrong, it didn’t burn.

How Franklin practiced

A little book. One page per virtue, with a grid. Virtues on rows, the seven days of the week on columns. Every time he committed a fault against that virtue, he marked a black dot in the little box for that day.

He focused on one virtue per week. Just one. The others ran loose during that stretch; he watched only the current one closely, and placed it at the top of the page. In 13 weeks he cycled through all of them; four cycles per year.

The order wasn’t random. Temperance first because it gives you a cool head for everything else; Silence next to build the habit of listening, and so on down the list.

He honestly admitted that he nearly always failed at Order. The diary wasn’t meant to be perfect. It was meant to make the progress visible.

My own version

The idea isn’t to copy the thirteen. It’s to take what I’ve already identified in myself and turn it into a few clear precepts. I started with seven.

  1. Listening. Hear the person out. Don’t respond, don’t judge, and don’t finish their sentence (not even in my head) before they’re done.
  2. Restrained opinion. Only offer opinions when asked. In doubt, ask: “Do you want my opinion, or do you just want to vent?”
  3. Humble speech. Trade “certainly / obviously / no doubt” for “it seems to me / I suppose / maybe I’m wrong.” Franklin’s own trick.
  4. Good faith. Assume good intent before assuming failure. Ask before concluding.
  5. Standards facing inward. High bar for me; acceptance for others. Holding others to my bar becomes judgment, and judgment is the door to moral superiority.
  6. Tranquility. Don’t get annoyed at domestic trifles: the mess, the delay, the cup out of place.
  7. Self-compassion. When I slip, treat my own mistake with the same empathy I want to give to the people I love.

If you ever want to try the same exercise, one suggestion worth gold: spend the first month only on Listening. It’s the root of the others. When you truly listen, restrained opinion, good faith, and tranquility come almost for free.

Franklin’s little book has a name, and it’s Hermes

Franklin marked his faults by hand, on a paper grid. I tried the physical notebook and gave up in three days. Too much friction.

I ended up with a solution that works for me: a Telegram agent I call Hermes, with a routine set up to remind me of the week’s virtue every morning. A real example of a Tuesday check-in:

📖 Daily virtue check-in. Tuesday, Aug 18, 2026 (Madrid)

Week 3 of 13. Order (Tue)
Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.

How did you live Order today? Reply with a line, or tell me any faults
(e.g. "slipped on silence, order") and I'll mark the little book.

 LITTLE BOOK  | Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa Su
------------------------------------
Temperance    |
Silence       |
Order         |
Resolution    |
Frugality     |
Industry      |
Sincerity     |
Justice       |
Moderation    |
Cleanliness   |
Tranquility   |
Chastity      |
Humility      |

It pings me in the morning, accepts my reply in one line ("slipped on silence"), and keeps the little book for me between markings. If I forget, it comes back the next day. If I want to stop, one message is enough.

It works very well, better than any paper notebook. Because the notebook depends on me remembering to open it; Hermes remembers for me.

A final note, the speckled axe

Franklin told the story of a man who bought an axe and wanted the whole blade as polished as the edge. The smith said fine, provided the man would turn the grindstone. It was hard work. Every time they stopped, the axe was still speckled, and at last the man said, “I think I’ll take my axe speckled, as it is.”

Franklin’s lesson: those who chase absolute perfection tend to give up on everything. Better to accept a few speckles, including, he added with humor, so as not to make his friends uncomfortable around so much virtue.

It goes for me too. The goal isn’t to become a man without faults. It’s to listen more, judge less, and treat the people I love (and myself) with more empathy. Speckles included.