The Complete English Tradesman (1839 ed.) Daniel Defoe 1110 downloads.pdf

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Complete English
Tradesman (1839 ed.)
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will
have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using
this eBook.

Title: The Complete English Tradesman (1839 ed.)

Author: Daniel Defoe

Release date: December 24, 2004 [eBook #14444]
Most recently updated: December 6, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14444

Credits: Produced by Steven Gibbs and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
COMPLETE ENGLISH TRADESMAN (1839 ED.) ***

THE COMPLETE ENGLISH
TRADESMAN

BY

DANIEL DEFOE
[LONDON 1726, EDINBURGH 1839]

CONTENTS

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I
THE TRADESMAN IN HIS PREPARATIONS WHILE AN APPRENTICE

CHAPTER II
THE TRADESMAN'S WRITING LETTERS

CHAPTER III
THE TRADING STYLE

CHAPTER IV
OF THE TRADESMAN ACQUAINTING HIMSELF WITH ALL
BUSINESS IN GENERAL

CHAPTER V
DILIGENCE AND APPLICATION IN BUSINESS

CHAPTER VI
OVER-TRADING

CHAPTER VII
OF THE TRADESMAN IN DISTRESS, AND BECOMING BANKRUPT

CHAPTER VIII
THE ORDINARY OCCASIONS OF THE RUIN OF TRADESMEN

CHAPTER IX
OF OTHER REASONS FOR THE TRADESMAN'S DISASTERS: AND,

FIRST, OF INNOCENT DIVERSIONS

CHAPTER X
OF EXTRAVAGANT AND EXPENSIVE LIVING; ANOTHER STEP TO
A TRADESMAN'S DISASTER

CHAPTER XI
OF THE TRADESMAN'S MARRYING TOO SOON

CHAPTER XII
OF THE TRADESMAN'S LEAVING HIS BUSINESS TO SERVANTS

CHAPTER XIII
OF TRADESMEN MAKING COMPOSITION WITH DEBTORS, OR
WITH CREDITORS

CHAPTER XIV
OF THE UNFORTUNATE TRADESMAN COMPOUNDING WITH HIS
CREDITORS

CHAPTER XV
OF TRADESMEN RUINING ONE ANOTHER BY RUMOUR AND
CLAMOUR, BY SCANDAL AND REPROACH

CHAPTER XVI
OF THE TRADESMAN'S ENTERING INTO PARTNERSHIP IN TRADE,
AND THE MANY DANGERS ATTENDING IT

CHAPTER XVII
OF HONESTY IN DEALING, AND LYING

CHAPTER XVIII
OF THE CUSTOMARY FRAUDS OF TRADE, WHICH HONEST MEN
ALLOW THEMSELVES TO PRACTISE, AND PRETEND TO JUSTIFY

CHAPTER XIX
OF FINE SHOPS, AND FINE SHOWS

CHAPTER XX
OF THE TRADESMAN'S KEEPING HIS BOOKS, AND CASTING UP
HIS SHOP

CHAPTER XXI
OF THE TRADESMAN LETTING HIS WIFE BE ACQUAINTED WITH
HIS BUSINESS

CHAPTER XXII
OF THE DIGNITY OF TRADE IN ENGLAND MORE THAN IN OTHER
COUNTRIES

CHAPTER XXIII
OF THE INLAND TRADE OF ENGLAND, ITS MAGNITUDE, AND
THE GREAT ADVANTAGE IT IS TO THE NATION IN GENERAL

CHAPTER XXIV
OF CREDIT IN TRADE, AND HOW A TRADESMAN OUGHT TO
VALUE AND IMPROVE IT: HOW EASILY LOST, AND HOW HARD IT
IS TO BE RECOVERED

CHAPTER XXV
OF THE TRADESMAN'S PUNCTUAL PAYING HIS BILLS AND
PROMISSORY NOTES UNDER HIS HAND, AND THE CREDIT HE
GAINS BY IT

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

The title of this work is an index of the performance. It is a collection of
useful instructions for a young tradesman. The world is grown so wise of
late, or (if you will) fancy themselves so, are so opiniatre, as the French
well express it, so self-wise, that I expect some will tell us beforehand they
know every thing already, and want none of my instructions; and to such,
indeed, these instructions are not written.
Had I not, in a few years' experience, seen many young tradesmen miscarry,
for want of those very cautions which are here given, I should have thought
this work needless, and I am sure had never gone about to write it; but as
the contrary is manifest, I thought, and think still, the world greatly wanted
it.
And be it that those unfortunate creatures that have thus blown themselves
up in trade, have miscarried for want of knowing, or for want of practising,
what is here offered for their direction, whether for want of wit, or by too
much wit, the thing is the same, and the direction is equally needful to both.
An old experienced pilot sometimes loses a ship by his assurance and over
confidence of his knowledge, as effectually as a young pilot does by his
ignorance and want of experience—this very thing, as I have been
informed, was the occasion of the fatal disaster in which Sir Cloudesley
Shovel, and so many hundred brave fellows, lost their lives in a moment
upon the rocks of Scilly.[1]
He that is above informing himself when he is in danger, is above pity when
he miscarries—a young tradesman who sets up thus full of himself, and
scorning advice from those who have gone before him, like a horse that
rushes into the battle, is only fearless of danger because he does not
understand it.

If there is not something extraordinary in the temper and genius of the
tradesmen of this age, if there is not something very singular in their
customs and methods, their conduct and behaviour in business; also, if there
is not something different and more dangerous and fatal in the common
road of trading, and tradesmen's management now, than ever was before,
what is the reason that there are so many bankrupts and broken tradesmen
now among us, more than ever were known before? I make no doubt but
there is as much trade now, and as much gotten by trading, as there ever
was in this nation, at least in our memory; and if we will allow other people
to judge, they will tell us there is much more trade, and trade is much more
gainful; what, then, must be the reason that the tradesmen cannot live on
their trades, cannot keep open their shops, cannot maintain themselves and
families, as well now as they could before? Something extraordinary must
be the case.
There must be some failure in the tradesman—it can be nowhere else—
either he is less sober and less frugal, less cautious of what he does, whom
he trusts, how he lives, and how he behaves, than tradesmen used to be, or
he is less industrious, less diligent, and takes less care and pains in his
business, or something is the matter; it cannot be but if he had the same
gain, and but the same expense which the former ages suffered tradesmen to
thrive with, he would certainly thrive as they did. There must be something
out of order in the foundation; he must fail in the essential part, or he would
not fail in his trade. The same causes would have the same effects in all
ages; the same gain, and but the same expense, would just leave him in the
same place as it would have left his predecessor in the same shop; and yet
we see one grow rich, and the other starve, under the very same
circumstances.
The temper of the times explains the case to every body that pleases but to
look into it. The expenses of a family are quite different now from what
they have been. Tradesmen cannot live as tradesmen in the same class used
to live; custom, and the manner of all the tradesmen round them, command
a difference; and he that will not do as others do, is esteemed as nobody
among them, and the tradesman is doomed to ruin by the fate of the times.
In short, there is a fate upon a tradesman; either he must yield to the snare
of the times, or be the jest of the times; the young tradesman cannot resist

it; he must live as others do, or lose the credit of living, and be run down as
if he were bankrupt. In a word, he must spend more than he can afford to
spend, and so be undone; or not spend it, and so be undone.
If he lives as others do, he breaks, because he spends more than he gets; if
he does not, he breaks too, because he loses his credit, and that is to lose his
trade. What must he do?[2]
The following directions are calculated for this exigency, and to prepare the
young tradesman to stem the attacks of those fatal customs, which
otherwise, if he yields to them, will inevitably send him the way of all the
thoughtless tradesmen that have gone before him.
Here he will be effectually, we hope, encouraged to set out well; to begin
wisely and prudently; and to avoid all those rocks which the gay race of
tradesmen so frequently suffer shipwreck upon. And here he will have a
true plan of his own prosperity drawn out for him, by which, if it be not his
own fault, he may square his conduct in an unerring manner, and fear
neither bad fortune nor bad friends. I had purposed to give a great many
other cautions and directions in this work, but it would have spun it out too
far, and have made it tedious. I would indeed have discoursed of some
branches of home trade, which necessarily embarks the inland tradesman in
some parts of foreign business, and so makes a merchant of the shopkeeper
almost whether he will or no. For example, almost all the shopkeepers and
inland traders in seaport towns, or even in the water-side part of London
itself, are necessarily brought in to be owners of ships, and concerned at
least in the vessel, if not in the voyage. Some of their trades, perhaps, relate
to, or are employed in, the building, or fitting, or furnishing out ships, as is
the case at Shoreham, at Ipswich, Yarmouth, Hull, Whitby, Newcastle, and
the like. Others are concerned in the cargoes, as in the herring fishery at
Yarmouth and the adjacent ports, the colliery at Newcastle, Sunderland,
&c., and the like in many other cases.
In this case, the shopkeeper is sometimes a merchant adventurer, whether he
will or not, and some of his business runs into sea-adventures, as in the salt
trade at Sheffield, in Northumberland, and Durham, and again at
Limington; and again in the coal trade, from Whitehaven in Cumberland to
Ireland, and the like.

These considerations urged me to direct due cautions to such tradesmen,
and such as would be particular to them, especially not to launch out in
adventures beyond the compass of their stocks,[3] and withal to manage
those things with due wariness. But this work had not room for those
things; and as that sort of amphibious tradesmen, for such they are, trading
both by water and by land, are not of the kind with those particularly aimed
at in these sheets, I thought it was better to leave them quite out than to
touch but lightly upon them.
I had also designed one chapter or letter to my inland tradesmen, upon the
most important subject of borrowing money upon interest, which is one of
the most dangerous things a tradesman is exposed to. It is a pleasant thing
to a tradesman to see his credit rise, and men offer him money to trade with,
upon so slender a consideration as five per cent. interest, when he gets ten
per cent. perhaps twice in the year; but it is a snare of the most dangerous
kind in the event, and has been the ruin of so many tradesmen, that, though
I had not room for it in the work, I could not let it pass without this notice in
the preface.
1. Interest-money eats deep into the tradesman's profits, because it is a
payment certain, whether the tradesman gets or loses, and as he may often
get double, so sometimes he loses, and then his interest is a double
payment; it is a partner with him under this unhappy circumstance, namely,
that it goes halves when he gains, but not when he loses.
2. The lender calls for his money when he pleases, and often comes for it
when the borrower can ill spare it; and then, having launched out in trade on
the supposition of so much in stock, he is left to struggle with the enlarged
trade with a contracted stock, and thus he sinks under the weight of it,
cannot repay the money, is dishonoured, prosecuted, and at last undone, by
the very loan which he took in to help him. Interest of money is a dead
weight upon the tradesman, and as the interest always keeps him low, the
principal sinks him quite down, when that comes to be paid out again.
Payment of interest, to a tradesman, is like Cicero bleeding to death in a
warm bath;[4] the pleasing warmth of the bath makes him die in a kind of
dream, and not feel himself decay, till at last he is exhausted, falls into
convulsions, and expires.

A tradesman held up by money at interest, is sure to sink at last by the
weight of it, like a man thrown into the sea with a stone tied about his neck,
who though he could swim if he was loose, drowns in spite of all his
struggle.
Indeed, this article would require not a letter, but a book by itself; and the
tragical stories of tradesmen undone by usury are so many, and the variety
so great, that they would make a history by themselves. But it must suffice
to treat it here only in general, and give the tradesmen a warning of it, as the
Trinity-house pilots warn sailors of a sand, by hanging a buoy upon it, or as
the Eddystone light-house upon a sunk rock, which, as the poet says, 'Bids
men stand off, and live; come near, and die.'
For a tradesman to borrow money upon interest, I take to be like a man
going into a house infected with the plague; it is not only likely that he may
be infected and die, but next to a miracle if he escapes.
This part being thus hinted at, I think I may say of the following sheets, that
they contain all the directions needful to make the tradesman thrive; and if
he pleases to listen to them with a temper of mind willing to be directed, he
must have some uncommon ill luck if he miscarries.
FOOTNOTES:
[1]
[October 22, 1707.—Admiral Shovel, with the confederate fleet
from the Mediterranean, as he was coming home, apprehended
himself near the rocks of Scilly about noon, and the weather
being hazy, he brought to and lay by till evening, when he made a
signal for sailing. What induced him to be more cautious in the
day than in the night is not known; but the fleet had not been long
under sail before his own ship, the Association, with the Eagle
and Romney, were dashed to pieces upon the rocks called the
Bishop and his Clerks, and all their men lost; the Ferdinand was
also cast away, and but twenty-four of her men saved. Admiral
Byng, perceiving the misfortune, altered his course, whereby he
preserved himself and the rest of the fleet which sailed after him.
—Salmon's Chronological Historian. London, 1723.]

[2]
[There is much reason for receiving all such complaints as the
above with caution. The extravagance of the present, in contrast
with the frugality of a past age, has always been a favourite topic
of declamation, and appears to have no other foundation than
whim. Indeed, it is next to impossible that any great body of men
could exist in the circumstances described in the text.]

[3]
[Stock is in this book invariably used for what we express by the
term capital.]

[4]
[Cicero is here given by mistake for Seneca, who thus suffered
death by order of the tyrant Nero.]

INTRODUCTION

Being to direct this discourse to the tradesmen of this nation, it is needful,
in order to make the substance of this work and the subject of it agree
together, that I should in a few words explain the terms, and tell the reader
who it is we understand by the word tradesman, and how he is to be
qualified in order to merit the title of complete.
This is necessary, because the said term tradesman is understood by several
people, and in several places, in a different manner: for example, in the
north of Britain, and likewise in Ireland, when you say a tradesman, you are
understood to mean a mechanic, such as a smith, a carpenter, a shoemaker,
and the like, such as here we call a handicraftsman. In like manner, abroad
they call a tradesman such only as carry goods about from town to town,
and from market to market, or from house to house, to sell; these in
England we call petty chapmen, in the north pethers, and in our ordinary
speech pedlars.
But in England, and especially in London, and the south parts of Britain, we
take it in another sense, and in general, all sorts of warehouse-keepers,
shopkeepers, whether wholesale dealers or retailers of goods, are called
tradesmen, or, to explain it by another word, trading men: such are, whether
wholesale or retail, our grocers, mercers, linen and woollen drapers,
Blackwell-hall factors, tobacconists, haberdashers, whether of hats or small
wares, glovers, hosiers, milliners, booksellers, stationers, and all other
shopkeepers, who do not actually work upon, make, or manufacture, the
goods they sell.
On the other hand, those who make the goods they sell, though they do
keep shops to sell them, are not called tradesmen, but handicrafts, such as
smiths, shoemakers, founders, joiners, carpenters, carvers, turners, and the
like; others, who only make, or cause to be made, goods for other people to
sell, are called manufacturers and artists, &c. Thus distinguished, I shall
speak of them all as occasion requires, taking this general explication to be

sufficient; and I thus mention it to prevent being obliged to frequent and
further particular descriptions as I go on.
As there are several degrees of people employed in trade below these, such
as workmen, labourers, and servants, so there is a degree of traders above
them, which we call merchants; where it is needful to observe, that in other
countries, and even in the north of Britain and Ireland, as the
handicraftsmen and artists are called tradesmen, so the shopkeepers whom
we here call tradesmen, are all called merchants; nay, even the very pedlars
are called travelling merchants.[5] But in England the word merchant is
understood of none but such as carry on foreign correspondences, importing
the goods and growth of other countries, and exporting the growth and
manufacture of England to other countries; or, to use a vulgar expression,
because I am speaking to and of those who use that expression, such as
trade beyond sea. These in England, and these only, are called merchants,
by way of honourable distinction; these I am not concerned with in this
work, nor is any part of it directed to them.
As the tradesmen are thus distinguished, and their several occupations
divided into proper classes, so are the trades. The general commerce of
England, as it is the most considerable of any nation in the world, so that
part of it which we call the home or inland trade, is equal, if not superior, to
that of any other nation, though some of those nations are infinitely greater
than England, and more populous also, as France and Germany in
particular.
I insist that the trade of England is greater and more considerable than that
of any other nation, for these reasons: 1. Because England produces more
goods as well for home consumption as for foreign exportation, and those
goods all made of its own produce or manufactured by its own inhabitants,
than any other nation in the world. 2. Because England consumes within
itself more goods of foreign growth, imported from the several countries
where they are produced or wrought, than any other nation in the world.
And—3. Because for the doing this England employs more shipping and
more seamen than any other nation, and, some think, than all the other
nations, of Europe.

Hence, besides the great number of wealthy merchants who carry on this
great foreign negoce [negotium (Latin) business], and who, by their
corresponding with all parts of the world, import the growth of all countries
hither—I say, besides these, we have a very great number of considerable
dealers, whom we call tradesmen, who are properly called warehouse-
keepers, who supply the merchants with all the several kinds of
manufactures, and other goods of the produce of England, for exportation;
and also others who are called wholesalemen, who buy and take off from
the merchants all the foreign goods which they import; these, by their
corresponding with a like sort of tradesmen in the country, convey and hand
forward those goods, and our own also, among those country tradesmen,
into every corner of the kingdom, however remote, and by them to the
retailers, and by the retailer to the last consumer, which is the last article of
all trade. These are the tradesmen understood in this work, and for whose
service these sheets are made public.
Having thus described the person whom I understand by the English
tradesman, it is then needful to inquire into his qualifications, and what it is
that renders him a finished or complete man in his business.
1. That he has a general knowledge of not his own particular trade and
business only—that part, indeed, well denominates a handicraftsman to be a
complete artist; but our complete tradesman ought to understand all the
inland trade of England, so as to be able to turn his hand to any thing, or
deal in any thing or every thing of the growth and product of his own
country, or the manufacture of the people, as his circumstances in trade or
other occasions may require; and may, if he sees occasion, lay down one
trade and take up another when he pleases, without serving a new
apprenticeship to learn it.
2. That he not only has a knowledge of the species or kinds of goods, but of
the places and peculiar countries where those goods, whether product or
manufacture, are to be found; that is to say, where produced or where made,
and how to come at them or deal in them, at the first hand, and to his best
advantage.
3. That he understands perfectly well all the methods of correspondence,
returning money or goods for goods, to and from every county in England;

in what manner to be done, and in what manner most to advantage; what
goods are generally bought by barter and exchange, and what by payment
of money; what for present money, and what for time; what are sold by
commission from the makers, what bought by factors, and by giving
commission to buyers in the country, and what bought by orders to the
maker, and the like; what markets are the most proper to buy every thing at,
and where and when; and what fairs are proper to go to in order to buy or
sell, or meet the country dealer at, such as Sturbridge, Bristol, Chester,
Exeter; or what marts, such as Beverly, Lynn, Boston, Gainsborough, and
the like.
In order to complete the English tradesman in this manner, the first thing to
be done is lay down such general maxims of trade as are fit for his
instruction, and then to describe the English or British product, being the
fund of its inland trade, whether we mean its produce as the growth of the
country, or its manufactures, as the labour of her people; then to acquaint
the tradesman with the manner of the circulation where those things are
found, how and by what methods all those goods are brought to London,
and from London again conveyed into the country; where they are
principally bought at best hand, and most to the advantage of the buyer, and
where the proper markets are to dispose of them again when bought.
These are the degrees by which the complete tradesman is brought up, and
by which he is instructed in the principles and methods of his commerce, by
which he is made acquainted with business, and is capable of carrying it on
with success, after which there is not a man in the universe deserves the title
of a complete tradesman, like the English shopkeeper.
FOOTNOTES:
[5]
[This misuse of the term merchant continues to exist in Scotland
to the present day.]

CHAPTER I
THE TRADESMAN IN HIS PREPARATIONS WHILE AN APPRENTICE

The first part of a trader's beginning is ordinarily when he is very young, I
mean, when he goes as an apprentice, and the notions of trade are scarcely
got into his head; for boys go apprentices while they are but boys; to talk to
them in their first three or four years signifies nothing; they are rather then
to be taught submission to families, and subjection to their masters, and
dutiful attendance in their shops or warehouses; and this is not our present
business.
But after they have entered the fifth or sixth year, they may then be
entertained with discourses of another nature; and as they begin then to look
forward beyond the time of their servitude, and think of setting up and
being for themselves, I think then is the time to put them upon useful
preparations for the work, and to instruct them in such things as may
qualify them best to enter upon the world, and act for themselves when they
are so entered.
The first thing a youth in the latter part of his time is to do, is to endeavour
to gain a good judgment in the wares of all kinds that he is likely to deal in
—as, for example, if a draper, the quality of cloths; if a stationer, the quality
of papers; if a grocer, the quality of sugars, teas, &c.; and so on with all
other trades. During the first years of a young man's time, he of course
learns to weigh and measure either liquids or solids, to pack up and make
bales, trusses, packages, &c., and to do the coarser and laborious part of
business; but all that gives him little knowledge in the species and quality of
the goods, much less a nice judgment in their value and sorts, which
however is one of the principal things that belong to trade.
It is supposed that, by this time, if his master is a man of considerable
business, his man is become the eldest apprentice, and is taken from the
counter, and from sweeping the warehouse, into the counting-house, where

he, among other things, sees the bills of parcels of goods bought, and
thereby knows what every thing costs at first hand, what gain is made of
them, and if a miscarriage happens, he knows what loss too; by which he is
led of course to look into the goodness of the goods, and see the reason of
things: if the goods are not to expectation, and consequently do not answer
the price, he sees the reason of that loss, and he looks into the goods, and
sees where and how far they are deficient, and in what; this, if he be careful
to make his observations, brings him naturally to have a good judgment in
the goods.
If a young man neglects this part, and passes over the season for such
improvement, he very rarely ever recovers it; for this part has its season,
and that more remarkable than in many other cases, and that season lost,
never comes again; a judgment in goods taken in early, is never lost, and a
judgment taken in late is seldom good.
If the youth slips this occasion, and, not minding what is before him, goes
out of his time without obtaining such a skill as this in the goods he is to
deal in, he enters into trade without his most useful tools, and must use
spectacles before his time.
For want of this knowledge of the goods, he is at a loss in the buying part,
and is liable to be cheated and imposed upon in the most notorious manner
by the sharp-sighted world, for his want of judgment is a thing that cannot
be hid; the merchants or manufacturers of whom he buys, presently
discover him; the very boys in the wholesalemen's warehouses, and in
merchant's warehouses, will play upon him, sell him one thing for another,
show him a worse sort when he calls for a better, and, asking a higher price
for it, persuade him it is better; and when they have thus bubbled him, they
triumph over his ignorance when he is gone, and expose him to the last
degree.
Besides, for want of judgment in the goods he is to buy, he often runs a
hazard of being cheated to a very great degree, and perhaps some time or
other a tradesman may be ruined by it, or at least ruin his reputation.
When I lived abroad, I had once a commission sent me from a merchant in
London, to buy a large parcel of brandy: the goods were something out of
my way, having never bought any in that country before. However, it

happened that I had frequently bought and imported brandies in England,
and had some judgment in them, so much that I ventured to buy without
taking a cooper with me, which was not usual in that place. The first parcel
of brandy I saw was very good, and I bought freely to the value of about
£600, and shipped them for England, where they gave very good
satisfaction to my employer. But I could not complete my commission to
my mind in that parcel. Some days after, some merchants, who had seen me
buy the other, and thought me a novice in the business, and that I took no
cooper to taste the brandy, laid a plot for me, which indeed was such a plot
as I was not in the least aware of; and had not the little judgment which I
had in the commodity prevented, I had been notoriously abused. The case
was thus:—They gave me notice by the same person who helped me to the
sight of the first brandy, that there was a cellar of extraordinary good
brandy at such a place, and invited me to see it. Accordingly I went in an
afternoon, and tasted the brandy, being a large parcel, amounting to about
£460.
I liked the goods very well; but the merchant, as they called him, that is to
say, the knave appointed to cheat the poor stranger, was cunningly out of
the way, so that no bargain was to be made that night. But as I had said that
I liked the brandy, the same person who brought me an account of them,
comes to my lodgings to treat with me about the price. We did not make
many words: I bade him the current price which I had bought for some days
before, and after a few struggles for five crowns a-tun more, he came to my
price, and his next word was to let me know the gage of the cask; and as I
had seen the goods already, he thought there was nothing to do but to make
a bargain, and order the goods to be delivered.
But young as I was, I was too old for that too; and told him, I could not tell
positively how many I should take, but that I would come in the afternoon,
and taste them again, and mark out what I wanted. He seemed uneasy at
that, and pretended he had two merchants waiting to see them, and he could
sell them immediately, and I might do him a prejudice if I made him wait
and put them off, who perhaps might buy in the mean time.
I answered him coldly, I would not hinder him selling them by any means if
he could have a better chapman, that I could not come sooner, and that I
would not be obliged to take the whole parcel, nor would I buy any of them

without tasting them again: he argued much to have me buy them, seeing,
as he said, I had tasted them before, and liked them very well.
'I did so,' said I, 'but I love to have my palate confirm one day what it
approved the day before.' 'Perhaps,' says he, 'you would have some other
person's judgment of them, and you are welcome to do so, sir, with all my
heart; send any body you please:' but still he urged for a bargain, when the
person sent should make his report; and then he had his agents ready, I
understood afterwards, to manage the persons I should send.
I answered him frankly, I had no great judgment, but that, such as it was, I
ventured to trust to it; I thought I had honest men to deal with, and that I
should bring nobody to taste them for me but myself.
This pleased him, and was what he secretly wished; and now, instead of
desiring me to come immediately, he told me, that seeing I would not buy
without seeing the goods again, and would not go just then, he could not be
in the way in the afternoon, and so desired I would defer it till next
morning, which I readily agreed to.
In the morning I went, but not so soon as I had appointed; upon which,
when I came, he seemed offended, and said I had hindered him—that he
could have sold the whole parcel, &c. I told him I could not have hindered
him, for that I had told him he should not wait for me, but sell them to the
first good customer he found. He told me he had indeed sold two or three
casks, but he would not disoblige me so much as to sell the whole parcel
before I came. This I mention, because he made it a kind of a bite upon me,
that I should not be alarmed at seeing the casks displaced in the cellar.
When I came to taste the brandy, I began to be surprised. I saw the very
same casks which I had touched with the marking-iron when I was there
before, but I did not like the brandy by any means, but did not yet suspect
the least foul play.
I went round the whole cellar, and I could not mark above three casks which
I durst venture to buy; the rest apparently showed themselves to be mixed,
at least I thought so. I marked out the three casks, and told him my palate
had deceived me, that the rest of the brandy was not for my turn.

I saw the man surprised, and turn pale, and at first seemed to be very angry,
that I should, as he called it, disparage the goods—that sure I did not
understand brandy, and the like—and that I should have brought somebody
with me that did understand it. I answered coldly, that if I ventured my
money upon my own judgment, the hazard was not to the seller, but to the
buyer, and nobody had to do with that; if I did not like his goods, another,
whose judgment was better, might like them, and so there was no harm
done: in a word, he would not let me have the three casks I had marked,
unless I took more, and I would take no more—so we parted, but with no
satisfaction on his side; and I afterwards came to hear that he had sat up all
the night with his coopers, mixing spirits in every cask, whence he drew off
a quantity of the right brandy, and corrupted it, concluding, that as I had no
judgment to choose by but my own, I could not discover it; and it came out
by his quarrelling with the person who brought me to him, for telling him I
did not understand the goods, upon which presumption he ventured to spoil
the whole parcel.
I give you this story as a just caution to a young tradesman, and to show
how necessary it is that a tradesman should have judgment in the goods he
buys, and how easily he may be imposed upon and abused, if he offers to
buy upon his own judgment, when really it is defective. I could enlarge this
article with many like examples, but I think this may suffice.
The next thing I recommend to an apprentice at the conclusion of his time,
is to acquaint himself with his master's chapmen;[6] I mean of both kinds, as
well those he sells to, as those he buys of, and, if he is a factor, with his
master's employers. But what I aim at now is the chapmen and customers
whom his master chiefly sells to. I need not explain myself not to mean by
this the chance customers of a retailer's shop, for there can be no
acquaintance, or very little, made with them; I mean the country
shopkeepers, or others, who buy in parcels, and who buy to sell again, or
export as merchants. If the young man comes from his master, and has
formed no acquaintance or interest among the customers whom his master
dealt with, he has, in short, slipt or lost one of the principal ends and
reasons of his being an apprentice, in which he has spent seven years, and
perhaps his friends given a considerable sum of money.

For a young man coming out of his time to have his shop or warehouse
stocked with goods, and his customers all to seek, will make his beginning
infinitely more difficult to him than it would otherwise be; and he not only
has new customers to seek, but has their characters to seek also, and knows
not who is good and who not, till he buys that knowledge by his experience,
and perhaps sometimes pays too dear for it.
It was an odd circumstance of a tradesman in this city a few years ago, who,
being out of his time, and going to solicit one of his master's customers to
trade with him, the chapman did not so much as know him, or remember
that he had ever heard his name, except as he had heard his master call his
apprentice Jacob. I know some masters diligently watch to prevent their
apprentices speaking to their customers, and to keep them from acquainting
themselves with the buyers, that when they come out of their times they
may not carry the trade away with them.
To hinder an apprentice from an acquaintance with the dealers of both sorts,
is somewhat like Laban's usage of Jacob, namely, keeping back the beloved
Rachel, whom he served his seven years' time for, and putting him off with
a blear-eyed Leah in her stead; it is, indeed, a kind of robbing him, taking
from him the advantage which he served his time for, and sending him into
the world like a man out of a ship set on shore among savages, who, instead
of feeding him, are indeed more ready to eat him up and devour him.[7]
An apprentice who has served out his time faithfully and diligently, ought to
claim it as a debt to his indentures, that his master should let him into an
open acquaintance with his customers; he does not else perform his promise
to teach him the art and mystery of his trade; he does not make him master
of his business, or enable him as he ought to set up in the world; for, as
buying is indeed the first, so selling is the last end of trade, and the faithful
apprentice ought to be fully made acquainted with them both.
Next to being acquainted with his master's customers and chapmen, the
apprentice, when his time is near expiring, ought to acquaint himself with
the books, that is to say, to see and learn his master's method of book-
keeping, that he may follow it, if the method is good, and may learn a better
method in time, if it is not.

The tradesman should not be at a loss how to keep his books, when he is to
begin his trade; that would be to put him to school when he is just come
from school; his apprenticeship is, and ought in justice to be, a school to
him, where he ought to learn every thing that should qualify him for his
business, at least every thing that his master can teach him; and if he finds
his master either backward or unwilling to teach him, he should complain in
time to his own friends, that they may some how or other supply the defect.
A tradesman's books are his repeating clock, which upon all occasions are
to tell him how he goes on, and how things stand with him in the world:
there he will know when it is time to go on, or when it is time to give over;
and upon his regular keeping, and fully acquainting himself with his books,
depends at least the comfort of his trade, if not the very trade itself. If they
are not duly posted, and if every thing is not carefully entered in them, the
debtor's accounts kept even, the cash constantly balanced, and the credits all
stated, the tradesman is like a ship at sea, steered without a helm; he is all in
confusion, and knows not what he does, or where he is; he may be a rich
man, or a bankrupt—for, in a word, he can give no account of himself to
himself, much less to any body else.
His books being so essential to his trade, he that comes out of his time
without a perfect knowledge of the method of book-keeping, like a bride
undrest, is not fit to be married; he knows not what to do, or what step to
take; he may indeed have served his time, but he has not learned his trade,
nor is he fit to set up; and be the fault in himself for not learning, or in his
master for not teaching him, he ought not to set up till he has gotten some
skilful person to put him in a way to do it, and make him fully to understand
it.
It is true, there is not a great deal of difficulty in keeping a tradesman's
books, especially if he be a retailer only; but yet, even in the meanest trades,
they ought to know how to keep books. But the advice is directed to those
who are above the retailer, as well as to them; if the book-keeping be small,
it is the sooner learned, and the apprentice is the more to blame if he
neglects it. Besides, the objection is much more trifling than the advice. The
tradesman cannot carry on any considerable trade without books; and he
must, during his apprenticeship, prepare himself for business by acquainting

himself with every thing needful for his going on with his trade, among
which that of book-keeping is absolutely necessary.
The last article, and in itself essential to a young tradesman, is to know how
to buy; if his master is kind and generous, he will consider the justice of this
part, and let him into the secret of it of his own free will, and that before his
time is fully expired; but if that should not happen, as often it does not, let
the apprentice know, that it is one of the most needful things to him that can
belong to his apprenticeship, and that he ought not to let his time run over
his head, without getting as much insight into it as possible; that therefore
he ought to lose no opportunity to get into it, even whether his master
approves of it or no; for as it is a debt due to him from his master to instruct
him in it, it is highly just he should use all proper means to come at it.
Indeed, the affair in this age between masters and their apprentices, stands
in a different view from what the same thing was a few years past; the state
of our apprenticeship is not a state of servitude now, and hardly of
subjection, and their behaviour is accordingly more like gentlemen than
tradesmen; more like companions to their masters, than like servants. On
the other hand, the masters seem to have made over their authority to their
apprentices for a sum of money, the money taken now with apprentices
being most exorbitantly great, compared to what it was in former times.
Now, though this does not at all exempt the servant or apprentice from
taking care of himself, and to qualify himself for business while he is an
apprentice, yet it is evident that it is no furtherance to apprentices; the
liberties they take towards the conclusion of their time, are so much
employed to worse purposes, that apprentices do not come out of their times
better finished for business and trade than they did formerly, but much the
worse: and though it is not the proper business and design of this work to
enlarge on the injustice done both to master and servant by this change of
custom, yet to bring it to my present purpose, it carries this force with it,
namely, that the advice to apprentices to endeavour to finish themselves for
business during the time of the indenture, is so much the more needful and
seasonable.
Nor is this advice for the service of the master, but of the apprentice; for if
the apprentice neglects this advice, if he omits to qualify himself for

business as above, if he neither will acquaint himself with the customers,
nor the books, nor with the buying part, nor gain judgment in the wares he
is to deal in, the loss is his own, not his master's—and, indeed, he may be
said to have served not himself, but his master—and both his money and his
seven years are all thrown away.
FOOTNOTES:
[6]
[Individuals dealt with.]

[7]
[It would be hard to doubt that Defore was sincere in this
pleading of the rights of the apprentice; but its morality is
certainly far from clear. The master may have gained customers
with difficulty, by the exercise of much ingenuity, patience, and
industry, or through some peculiar merit of his own. Indeed, it is
always to be presumed that a tradesman's customers are attached
to him from some of these causes. Of course, it would be hard if
his apprentices, instead of collecting customers for themselves by
the same means, seduced away those of his master. The true and
direct object of an apprenticeship is to acquire a trade, not to
acquire customers.]

CHAPTER II
THE TRADESMAN'S WRITING LETTERS

As plainness, and a free unconstrained way of speaking, is the beauty and
excellence of speech, so an easy free concise way of writing is the best style
for a tradesman. He that affects a rumbling and bombast style, and fills his
letters with long harangues, compliments, and flourishes, should turn poet
instead of tradesman, and set up for a wit, not a shopkeeper. Hark how such
a young tradesman writes, out of the country, to his wholesale-man in
London, upon his first setting up.
'SIR—The destinies having so appointed it, and my dark stars concurring,
that I, who by nature was framed for better things, should be put out to a
trade, and the gods having been so propitious to me in the time of my
servitude, that at length the days are expired, and I am launched forth into
the great ocean of business, I thought fit to acquaint you, that last month I
received my fortune, which, by my father's will, had been my due two years
past, at which time I arrived to man's estate, and became major, whereupon
I have taken a house in one of the principal streets of the town of——,
where I am entered upon my business, and hereby let you know that I shall
have occasion for the goods hereafter mentioned, which you may send to
me by the carrier.'
This fine flourish, and which, no doubt, the young fellow dressed up with
much application, and thought was very well done, put his correspondent in
London into a fit of laughter, and instead of sending him the goods he wrote
for, put him either first upon writing down into the country to inquire after
his character, and whether he was worth dealing with, or else it obtained to
be filed up among such letters as deserved no answer.
The same tradesman in London received by the post another letter, from a
young shopkeeper in the country, to the purpose following:—

'Being obliged, Sir, by my late master's decease, to enter immediately upon
his business, and consequently open my shop without coming up to London
to furnish myself with such goods as at present I want, I have here sent you
a small order, as underwritten. I hope you will think yourself obliged to use
me well, and particularly that the goods may be good of the sorts, though I
cannot be at London to look them out myself. I have enclosed a bill of
exchange for £75, on Messrs A.B. and Company, payable to you, or your
order, at one-and-twenty days' sight; be pleased to get it accepted, and if the
goods amount to more than that sum, I shall, when I have your bill of
parcels, send you the remainder. I repeat my desire, that you will send me
the goods well sorted, and well chosen, and as cheap as possible, that I may
be encouraged to a further correspondence. I am, your humble servant,
C.K.'
This was writing like a man that understood what he was doing; and his
correspondent in London would presently say—'This young man writes like
a man of business; pray let us take care to use him well, for in all
probability he will be a very good chapman.'
The sum of the matter is this: a tradesman's letters should be plain, concise,
and to the purpose; no quaint expressions, no book-phrases, no flourishes,
and yet they must be full and sufficient to express what he means, so as not
to be doubtful, much less unintelligible. I can by no means approve of
studied abbreviations, and leaving out the needful copulatives of speech in
trading letters; they are to an extreme affected; no beauty to the style, but,
on the contrary, a deformity of the grossest nature. They are affected to the
last degree, and with this aggravation, that it is an affectation of the grossest
nature; for, in a word, it is affecting to be thought a man of more than
ordinary sense by writing extraordinary nonsense; and affecting to be a man
of business, by giving orders and expressing your meaning in terms which a
man of business may not think himself bound by. For example, a tradesman
at Hull writes to his correspondent at London the following letter:—
'SIR, yours received, have at present little to reply. Last post you had bills
of loading, with invoice of what had loaden for your account in Hamburgh
factor bound for said port. What have farther orders for, shall be dispatched
with expedition. Markets slacken much on this side; cannot sell the iron for

more than 37s. Wish had your orders if shall part with it at that rate. No
ships since the 11th. London fleet may be in the roads before the late storm,
so hope they are safe: if have not insured, please omit the same till hear
farther; the weather proving good, hope the danger is over.
My last transmitted three bills exchange, import £315; please signify if are
come to hand, and accepted, and give credit in account current to your
humble servant.'
I pretend to say there is nothing in all this letter, though appearing to have
the face of a considerable dealer, but what may be taken any way, pro or
con. The Hamburgh factor may be a ship, or a horse—be bound to
Hamburgh or London. What shall be dispatched may be one thing, or any
thing, or every thing, in a former letter. No ships since the 11th, may be no
ships come in, or no ships gone out. The London fleet being in the roads, it
may be the London fleet from Hull to London, or from London to Hull,
both being often at sea together. The roads may be Yarmouth roads, or
Grimsby, or, indeed, any where.
By such a way of writing, no orders can be binding to him that gives them,
or to him they are given to. A merchant writes to his factor at Lisbon:—
'Please to send, per first ship, 150 chests best Seville, and 200 pipes best
Lisbon white. May value yourself per exchange £1250 sterling, for the
account of above orders. Suppose you can send the sloop to Seville for the
ordered chests, &c. I am.'
Here is the order to send a cargo, with a please to send; so the factor may let
it alone if he does not please.[8] The order is 150 chests Seville; it is
supposed he means oranges, but it may be 150 chests orange-trees as well,
or chests of oil, or any thing. Lisbon white, may be wine or any thing else,
though it is supposed to be wine. He may draw £1250, but he may refuse to
accept it if he pleases, for any thing such an order as that obliges him.
On the contrary, orders ought to be plain and explicit; and he ought to have
assured him, that on his drawing on him, his bills should be honoured—that
is, accepted and paid.

I know this affectation of style is accounted very grand, looks modish, and
has a kind of majestic greatness in it; but the best merchants in the world
are come off from it, and now choose to write plain and intelligibly: much
less should country tradesmen, citizens, and shopkeepers, whose business is
plainness and mere trade, make use of it.
I have mentioned this in the beginning of this work, because, indeed, it is
the beginning of a tradesman's business. When a tradesman takes an
apprentice, the first thing he does for him, after he takes him from behind
his counter, after he lets him into his counting-house and his books, and
after trusting him with his more private business—I say, the first thing is to
let him write letters to his dealers, and correspond with his friends; and this
he does in his master's name, subscribing his letters thus:—
I am, for my master, A.B. and Company, your
humble servant, C.D.
And beginning thus:—Sir, I am ordered by my master A.B. to advise
you that—
Or thus:—
Sir, By my master's order, I am to signify to you that
Orders for goods ought to be very explicit and particular, that the dealer
may not mistake, especially if it be orders from a tradesman to a
manufacturer to make goods, or to buy goods, either of such a quality, or to
such a pattern; in which, if the goods are made to the colours, and of a
marketable goodness, and within the time limited, the person ordering them
cannot refuse to receive them, and make himself debtor to the maker. On
the contrary, if the goods are not of a marketable goodness, or not to the
patterns, or are not sent within the time, the maker ought not to expect they
should be received. For example—
The tradesman, or warehouseman, or what else we may call him, writes to
his correspondent at Devizes, in Wiltshire, thus:—
'Sir—The goods you sent me last week are not at all for my purpose, being
of a sort which I am at present full of: however, if you are willing they
should lie here, I will take all opportunities to sell them for your account;
otherwise, on your first orders, they shall be delivered to whoever you shall

direct: and as you had no orders from me for such sorts of goods, you
cannot take this ill. But I have here enclosed sent you five patterns as under,
marked 1 to 5; if you think fit to make me fifty pieces of druggets of the
same weight and goodness with the fifty pieces, No. A.B., which I had from
you last October, and mixed as exactly as you can to the enclosed patterns,
ten to each pattern, and can have the same to be delivered here any time in
February next, I shall take them at the same price which I gave you for the
last; and one month after the delivery you may draw upon me for the
money, which shall be paid to your content. Your friend and servant.
P.S. Let me have your return per next post, intimating that you can or
cannot answer this order, that I may govern myself accordingly. To Mr
H.G., clothier, Devizes.'
The clothier, accordingly, gives him an answer the next post, as follows:—
'Sir—I have the favour of yours of the 22d past, with your order for fifty
fine druggets, to be made of the like weight and goodness with the two
packs, No. A.B., which I made for you and sent last October, as also the
five patterns enclosed, marked 1 to 5, for my direction in the mixture. I give
you this trouble, according to your order, to let you know I have already put
the said fifty pieces in hand; and as I am always willing to serve you to the
best of my power, and am thankful for your favours, you may depend upon
them within the time, that is to say, some time in February next, and that
they shall be of the like fineness and substance with the other, and as near to
the patterns as possible. But in regard our poor are very craving, and money
at this time very scarce, I beg you will give me leave (twenty or thirty
pieces of them being finished and delivered to you at any time before the
remainder), to draw fifty pounds on you for present occasion; for which I
shall think myself greatly obliged, and shall give you any security you
please that the rest shall follow within the time.
As to the pack of goods in your hands, which were sent up without your
order, I am content they remain in your hands for sale on my account, and
desire you will sell them as soon as you can, for my best advantage. I am,'
&c.
Here is a harmony of business, and every thing exact; the order is given
plain and express; the clothier answers directly to every point; here can be

no defect in the correspondence; the diligent clothier applies immediately to
the work, sorts and dyes his wool, mixes his colours to the patterns, puts the
wool to the spinners, sends his yarn to the weavers, has the pieces brought
home, then has them to the thicking or fulling-mill, dresses them in his own
workhouse, and sends them up punctually by the time; perhaps by the
middle of the month. Having sent up twenty pieces five weeks before, the
warehouse-keeper, to oblige him, pays his bill of £50, and a month after the
rest are sent in, he draws for the rest of the money, and his bills are
punctually paid. The consequence of this exact writing and answering is this
—
The warehouse-keeper having the order from his merchant, is furnished in
time, and obliges his customer; then says he to his servant, 'Well, this H.G.
of Devizes is a clever workman, understands his business, and may be
depended on: I see if I have an order to give that requires any exactness and
honest usage, he is my man; he understands orders when they are sent, goes
to work immediately, and answers them punctually.'
Again, the clothier at Devizes says to his head man, or perhaps his son,
'This Mr H. is a very good employer, and is worth obliging; his orders are
so plain and so direct, that a man cannot mistake, and if the goods are made
honestly and to his time, there's one's money; bills are cheerfully accepted,
and punctually paid; I'll never disappoint him; whoever goes without goods,
he shall not.'
On the contrary, when orders are darkly given, they are doubtfully
observed; and when the goods come to town, the merchant dislikes them,
the warehouseman shuffles them back upon the clothier, to lie for his
account, pretending they are not made to his order; the clothier is
discouraged, and for want of his money discredited, and all their
correspondence is confusion, and ends in loss both of money and credit.
FOOTNOTES:
[8]
[The practice of trade now sanctions courteous expressions of this
kind.]

CHAPTER III
THE TRADING STYLE

In the last chapter I gave my thoughts for the instruction of young
tradesmen in writing letters with orders, and answering orders, and
especially about the proper style of a tradesman's letters, which I hinted
should be plain and easy, free in language, and direct to the purpose
intended. Give me leave to go on with the subject a little farther, as I think it
is useful in another part of the tradesman's correspondence.
I might have made some apology for urging tradesmen to write a plain and
easy style; let me add, that the tradesmen need not be offended at my
condemning them, as it were, to a plain and homely style—easy, plain, and
familiar language is the beauty of speech in general, and is the excellency
of all writing, on whatever subject, or to whatever persons they are we write
or speak. The end of speech is that men might understand one another's
meaning; certainly that speech, or that way of speaking, which is most
easily understood, is the best way of speaking. If any man were to ask me,
which would be supposed to be a perfect style, or language, I would answer,
that in which a man speaking to five hundred people, of all common and
various capacities, idiots or lunatics excepted, should be understood by
them all in the same manner with one another, and in the same sense which
the speaker intended to be understood—this would certainly be a most
perfect style.
All exotic sayings, dark and ambiguous speakings, affected words, and, as I
said in the last chapter, abridgement, or words cut off, as they are foolish
and improper in business, so, indeed, are they in any other things; hard
words, and affectation of style in business, is like bombast in poetry, a kind
of rumbling nonsense, and nothing of the kind can be more ridiculous.
The nicety of writing in business consists chiefly in giving every species of
goods their trading names, for there are certain peculiarities in the trading

language, which are to be observed as the greatest proprieties, and without
which the language your letters are written in would be obscure, and the
tradesmen you write to would not understand you—for example, if you
write to your factor at Lisbon, or at Cadiz, to make you returns in hardware,
he understands you, and sends you so many bags of pieces of eight. So, if a
merchant comes to me to hire a small ship of me, and tells me it is for the
pipin trade, or to buy a vessel, and tells me he intends to make a pipiner of
her, the meaning is, that she is to run to Seville for oranges, or to Malaga
for lemons. If he says he intends to send her for a lading of fruit, the
meaning is, she is to go to Alicant, Denia, or Xevia, on the coast of Spain,
for raisins of the sun, or to Malaga for Malaga raisins. Thus, in the home
trade in England: if in Kent a man tells me he is to go among the night-
riders, his meaning is, he is to go a-carrying wool to the sea-shore—the
people that usually run the wool off in boats, are called owlers—those that
steal customs, smugglers, and the like. In a word, there is a kind of slang in
trade, which a tradesman ought to know, as the beggars and strollers know
the gipsy cant, which none can speak but themselves; and this in letters of
business is allowable, and, indeed, they cannot understand one another
without it.
A brickmaker being hired by a brewer to make some bricks for him at his
country-house, wrote to the brewer that he could not go forward unless he
had two or three loads of spanish, and that otherwise his bricks would cost
him six or seven chaldrons of coals extraordinary, and the bricks would not
be so good and hard neither by a great deal, when they were burnt.
The brewer sends him an answer, that he should go on as well as he could
for three or four days, and then the spanish should be sent him: accordingly,
the following week, the brewer sends him down two carts loaded with about
twelve hogsheads or casks of molasses, which frighted the brickmaker
almost out of his senses. The case was this:-The brewers formerly mixed
molasses with their ale to sweeten it, and abate the quantity of malt,
molasses, being, at that time, much cheaper in proportion, and this they
called spanish, not being willing that people should know it. Again, the
brickmakers all about London, do mix sea-coal ashes, or laystal-stuff, as we
call it, with the clay of which they make bricks, and by that shift save eight
chaldrons of coals out of eleven, in proportion to what other people use to
burn them with, and these ashes they call spanish.

Thus the received terms of art, in every particular business, are to be
observed, of which I shall speak to you in its turn: I name them here to
intimate, that when I am speaking of plain writing in matters of business, it
must be understood with an allowance for all these things—and a tradesman
must be not only allowed to use them in his style, but cannot write properly
without them—it is a particular excellence in a tradesman to be able to
know all the terms of art in every separate business, so as to be able to
speak or write to any particular handicraft or manufacturer in his own
dialect, and it is as necessary as it is for a seaman to understand the names
of all the several things belonging to a ship. This, therefore, is not to be
understood when I say, that a tradesman should write plain and explicit, for
these things belong to, and are part of, the language of trade.
But even these terms of art, or customary expressions, are not to be used
with affectation, and with a needless repetition, where they are not called
for.
Nor should a tradesman write those out-of-the-way words, though it is in
the way of the business he writes about, to any other person, who he knows,
or has reason to believe, does not understand them—I say, he ought not to
write in those terms to such, because it shows a kind of ostentation, and a
triumph over the ignorance of the person they are written to, unless at the
very same time you add an explanation of the terms, so as to make them
assuredly intelligible at the place, and to the person to whom they are sent.
A tradesman, in such cases, like a parson, should suit his language to his
auditory; and it would be as ridiculous for a tradesman to write a letter
filled with the peculiarities of this or that particular trade, which trade he
knows the person he writes to is ignorant of, and the terms whereof he is
unacquainted with, as it would be for a minister to quote the Chrysostome
and St Austin, and repeat at large all their sayings in the Greek and the
Latin, in a country church, among a parcel of ploughmen and farmers. Thus
a sailor, writing a letter to a surgeon, told him he had a swelling on the
north-east side of his face—that his windward leg being hurt by a bruise, it
so put him out of trim, that he always heeled to starboard when he made
fresh way, and so run to leeward, till he was often forced aground; then he
desired him to give him some directions how to put himself into a sailing

posture again. Of all which the surgeon understood little more than that he
had a swelling on his face, and a bruise in his leg.
It would be a very happy thing, if tradesmen had all their lexicon technicum
at their fingers' ends; I mean (for pray, remember, that I observe my own
rule, not to use a hard word without explaining it), that every tradesman
would study so the terms of art of other trades, that he might be able to
speak to every manufacturer or artist in his own language, and understand
them when they talked one to another: this would make trade be a kind of
universal language, and the particular marks they are obliged to, would be
like the notes of music, an universal character, in which all the tradesmen in
England might write to one another in the language and characters of their
several trades, and be as intelligible to one another as the minister is to his
people, and perhaps much more.
I therefore recommend it to every young tradesman to take all occasions to
converse with mechanics of every kind, and to learn the particular language
of their business; not the names of their tools only, and the way of working
with their instruments as well as hands, but the very cant of their trade, for
every trade has its nostrums, and its little made words, which they often
pride themselves in, and which yet are useful to them on some occasion or
other.
There are many advantages to a tradesman in thus having a general
knowledge of the terms of art, and the cant, as I call it, of every business;
and particularly this, that they could not be imposed upon so easily by other
tradesmen, when they came to deal with them.
If you come to deal with a tradesman or handicraft man, and talk his own
language to him, he presently supposes you understand his business; that
you know what you come about; that you have judgment in his goods, or in
his art, and cannot easily be imposed upon; accordingly, he treats you like a
man that is not to be cheated, comes close to the point, and does not crowd
you with words and rattling talk to set out his wares, and to cover their
defects; he finds you know where to look or feel for the defect of things,
and how to judge their worth. For example:—
What trade has more hard words and peculiar ways attending it, than that of
a jockey, or horse-courser, as we call them! They have all the parts of the

horse, and all the diseases attending him, necessary to be mentioned in the
market, upon every occasion of buying or bargaining. A jockey will know
you at first sight, when you do but go round a horse, or at the first word you
say about him, whether you are a dealer, as they call themselves, or a
stranger. If you begin well, if you take up the horse's foot right, if you
handle him in the proper places, if you bid his servant open his mouth, or go
about it yourself like a workman, if you speak of his shapes or goings in the
proper words—'Oh!' says the jockey to his fellow, 'he understands a horse,
he speaks the language:' then he knows you are not to be cheated, or, at
least, not so easily; but if you go awkwardly to work, whisper to your man
you bring with you to ask every thing for you, cannot handle the horse
yourself, or speak the language of the trade, he falls upon you with his
flourishes, and with a flux of horse rhetoric imposes upon you with oaths
and asseverations, and, in a word, conquers you with the mere clamour of
his trade.
Thus, if you go to a garden to buy flowers, plants, trees, and greens, if you
know what you go about, know the names of flowers, or simples, or greens;
know the particular beauties of them, when they are fit to remove, and when
to slip and draw, and when not; what colour is ordinary, and what rare;
when a flower is rare, and when ordinary—the gardener presently talks to
you as to a man of art, tells you that you are a lover of art, a friend to a
florist, shows you his exotics, his green-house, and his stores; what he has
set out, and what he has budded or enarched, and the like; but if he finds
you have none of the terms of art, know little or nothing of the names of
plants, or the nature of planting, he picks your pocket instantly, shows you a
fine trimmed fuz-bush for a juniper, sells you common pinks for painted
ladies, an ordinary tulip for a rarity, and the like. Thus I saw a gardener sell
a gentleman a large yellow auricula, that is to say, a running away, for a
curious flower, and take a great price. It seems, the gentleman was a lover
of a good yellow; and it is known, that when nature in the auricula is
exhausted, and has spent her strengh in showing a fine flower, perhaps
some years upon the same root, she faints at last, and then turns into a
yellow, which yellow shall be bright and pleasant the first year, and look
very well to one that knows nothing of it, though another year it turns pale,
and at length almost white. This the gardeners call a run flower, and this
they put upon the gentleman for a rarity, only because he discovered at his

coming that he knew nothing of the matter. The same gardener sold another
person a root of white painted thyme for the right Marum Syriacum; and
thus they do every day.
A person goes into a brickmaker's field to view his clamp, and buy a load of
bricks; he resolves to see them loaded, because he would have good ones;
but not understanding the goods, and seeing the workmen loading them
where they were hard and well burnt, but looked white and grey, which, to
be sure, were the best of the bricks, and which perhaps they would not have
done if he had not been there to look at them, they supposing he understood
which were the best; but he, in the abundance of his ignorance, finds fault
with them, because they were not a good colour, and did not look red; the
brickmaker's men took the hint immediately, and telling the buyer they
would give him red bricks to oblige him, turned their hands from the grey
hard well-burnt bricks to the soft sammel[9] half-burnt bricks, which they
were glad to dispose of, and which nobody that had understood them would
have taken off their hands.
I mention these lower things, because I would suit my writing to the
understanding of the meanest people, and speak of frauds used in the most
ordinary trades; but it is the like in almost all the goods a tradesman can
deal in. If you go to Warwickshire to buy cheese, you demand the cheese 'of
the first make,' because that is the best. If you go to Suffolk to buy butter,
you refuse the butter of the first make, because that is not the best, but you
bargain for 'the right rowing butter,' which is the butter that is made when
the cows are turned into the grounds where the grass has been mowed, and
the hay carried off, and grown again: and so in many other cases. These
things demonstrate the advantages there are to a tradesman, in his being
thoroughly informed of the terms of art, and the peculiarities belonging to
every particular business, which, therefore, I call the language of trade.
As a merchant should understand all languages, at least the languages of
those countries which he trades to, or corresponds with, and the customs
and usages of those countries as to their commerce, so an English
tradesman ought to understand all the languages of trade, within the
circumference of his own country, at least, and particularly of such as he
may, by any of the consequences of his commerce, come to be any way
concerned with.

Especially, it is his business to acquaint himself with the terms and trading
style, as I call it, of those trades which he buys of, as to those he sells to;
supposing he sells to those who sell again, it is their business to understand
him, not his to understand them: and if he finds they do not understand him,
he will not fail to make their ignorance be his advantage, unless he is
honester and more conscientious in his dealings than most of the tradesmen
of this age seem to be.
FOOTNOTES:
[9]
[Sammel is a term of art the brickmakers use for those bricks
which are not well burnt, and which generally look of a pale red
colour, and as fair as the other, but are soft.]

CHAPTER IV
OF THE TRADESMAN ACQUAINTING HIMSELF WITH ALL
BUSINESS IN GENERAL

It is the judgment of some experienced tradesmen, that no man ought to go
from one business to another, and launch out of the trade or employment he
was bred to: Tractent fabrilia fabri—'Every man to his own business;' and,
they tell us, men never thrive when they do so.
I will not enter into that dispute here. I know some good and encouraging
examples of the contrary, and which stand as remarkable instances, or as
exceptions to the general rule: but let that be as it will, sometimes
providence eminently calls upon men out of one employ into another, out of
a shop into a warehouse, out of a warehouse into a shop, out of a single
hand into a partnership, and the like; and they trade one time here, another
time there, and with very good success too. But I say, be that as it will, a
tradesman ought so far to acquaint himself with business, that he should not
be at a loss to turn his hand to this or that trade, as occasion presents,
whether in or out of the way of his ordinary dealing, as we have often seen
done in London and other places, and sometimes with good success.
This acquainting himself with business does not intimate that he should
learn every trade, or enter into the mystery of every employment. That
cannot well be; but that he should have a true notion of business in general,
and a knowledge how and in what manner it is carried on; that he should
know where every manufacture is made, and how bought at first hand; that
he should know which are the proper markets, and what the particular kinds
of goods to exchange at those markets; that he should know the manner
how every manufacture is managed, and the method of their sale.
It cannot be expected that he should have judgment in the choice of all
kinds of goods, though in a great many he may have judgment too: but there
is a general understanding in trade, which every tradesman both may and

ought to arrive to; and this perfectly qualifies him to engage in any new
undertaking, and to embark with other persons better qualified than himself
in any new trade, which he was not in before; in which, though he may not
have a particular knowledge and judgment in the goods they are to deal in
or to make, yet, having the benefit of the knowledge his new partner is
master of, and being himself apt to take in all additional lights, he soon
becomes experienced, and the knowledge of all the other parts of business
qualifies him to be a sufficient partner. For example—A.B. was bred a dry-
salter, and he goes in partner with with C.D., a scarlet-dyer, called a bow-
dyer, at Wandsworth.
As a salter, A.B. has had experience enough in the materials for dyeing, as
well scarlets as all other colours, and understands very well the buying of
cochineal, indigo, galls, shumach, logwood, fustick, madder, and the like;
so that he does his part very well. C.D. is an experienced scarlet-dyer; but
now, doubling their stock, they fall into a larger work, and they dye bays
and stuffs, and other goods, into differing colours, as occasion requires; and
this brings them to an equality in the business, and by hiring good
experienced servants, they go on very well together.
The like happens often when a tradesman turns his hand from one trade to
another; and when he embarks, either in partnership or out of it, in any new
business, it is supposed he seldom changes hands in such a manner without
some such suitable person to join with, or that he has some experienced
head workman to direct him, which, if that workman proves honest, is as
well as a partner. On the other hand, his own application and indefatigable
industry supply the want of judgment. Thus, I have known several
tradesmen turn their hands from one business to another, or from one trade
entirely to another, and very often with good success. For example, I have
seen a confectioner turn a sugar-baker; another a distiller; an apothecary
turn chemist, and not a few turn physicians, and prove very good physicians
too; but that is a step beyond what I am speaking of.
But my argument turns upon this—that a tradesman ought to be able to turn
his hand to any thing; that is to say, to lay down one trade and take up
another, if occasion leads him to it, and if he sees an evident view of profit
and advantage in it; and this is only done by his having a general
knowledge of trade, so as to have a capacity of judging: and by but just

looking upon what is offered or proposed, he sees as much at first view as
others do by long inquiry, and with the judgment of many advisers.
When I am thus speaking of the tradesman's being capable of making
judgment of things, it occurs, with a force not to be resisted, that I should
add, he is hereby fenced against bubbles and projects, and against those
fatal people called projectors, who are, indeed, among tradesmen, as birds
of prey are among the innocent fowls—devourers and destroyers. A
tradesman cannot be too well armed, nor too much cautioned, against those
sort of people; they are constantly surrounded with them, and are as much
in jeopardy from them, as a man in a crowd is of having his pocket picked
—nay, almost as a man is when in a crowd of pickpockets.
Nothing secures the tradesman against those men so well as his being
thoroughly knowing in business, having a judgment to weigh all the
delusive schemes and the fine promises of the wheedling projector, and to
see which are likely to answer, or which not; to examine all his specious
pretences, his calculations and figures, and see whether they are as likely to
answer the end as he takes upon him to say they will; to make allowances
for all his fine flourishes and outsides, and then to judge for himself. A
projector is to a tradesman a kind of incendiary; he is in a constant plot to
blow him up, or set fire to him; for projects are generally as fatal to a
tradesman as fire in a magazine of gunpowder.
The honest tradesman is always in danger, and cannot be too wary; and
therefore to fortify his judgment, that he may be able to guard against such
people as these, is one of the most necessary things I can do for him.
In order, then, to direct the tradesman how to furnish himself thus with a
needful stock of trading knowledge, first, I shall propose to him to converse
with tradesmen chiefly: he that will be a tradesman should confine himself
within his own sphere: never was the Gazette so full of the advertisements
of commissions of bankrupt as since our shopkeepers are so much engaged
in parties, formed into clubs to hear news, and read journals and politics; in
short, when tradesmen turn statesmen, they should either shut up their
shops, or hire somebody else to look after them.

The known story of the upholsterer is very instructive,[10] who, in his
abundant concern for the public, ran himself out of his business into a jail;

and even when he was in prison, could not sleep for the concern he had for
the liberties of his dear country: the man was a good patriot, but a bad
shopkeeper; and, indeed, should rather have shut up his shop, and got a
commission in the army, and then he had served his country in the way of
his calling. But I may speak to this more in its turn.
My present subject is not the negative, what he should not do, but the
affirmative, what he should do; I say, he should take all occasions to
converse within the circuit of his own sphere, that is, dwell upon the subject
of trade in his conversation, and sort with and converse among tradesmen as
much as he can; as writing teaches to write—scribendo discis scribere—so
conversing among tradesmen will make him a tradesman. I need not explain
this so critically as to tell you I do not mean he should confine or restrain
himself entirely from all manner of conversation but among his own class: I
shall speak to that in its place also. A tradesman may on occasion keep
company with gentlemen as well as other people; nor is a trading man, if he
is a man of sense, unsuitable or unprofitable for a gentleman to converse
with, as occasion requires; and you will often find, that not private
gentlemen only, but even ministers of state, privy-councillors, members of
parliament, and persons of all ranks in the government, find it for their
purpose to converse with tradesmen, and are not ashamed to acknowledge,
that a tradesman is sometimes qualified to inform them in the most difficult
and intricate, as well as the most urgent, affairs of government; and this has
been the reason why so many tradesmen have been advanced to honours
and dignities above their ordinary rank, as Sir Charles Duncombe, a
goldsmith; Sir Henry Furnese, who was originally a retail hosier; Sir
Charles Cook, late one of the board of trade, a merchant; Sir Josiah Child,
originally a very mean tradesman; the late Mr Lowndes, bred a scrivener;
and many others, too many to name.
But these are instances of men called out of their lower sphere for their
eminent usefulness, and their known capacities, being first known to be
diligent and industrious men in their private and lower spheres; such
advancements make good the words of the wise man—'Seest thou a man
diligent in his calling, he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before
mean men.[11]

In the mean time, the tradesman's proper business is in his shop or
warehouse, and among his own class or rank of people; there he sees how
other men go on, and there he learns how to go on himself; there he sees
how other men thrive, and learns to thrive himself; there he hears all the
trading news—as for state news and politics, it is none of his business; there
he learns how to buy, and there he gets oftentimes opportunities to sell;
there he hears of all the disasters in trade, who breaks, and why; what
brought such and such a man to misfortunes and disasters; and sees the
various ways how men go down in the world, as well as the arts and
management, by which others from nothing arise to wealth and estates.
Here he sees the Scripture itself thwarted, and his neighbour tradesman, a
wholesale haberdasher, in spite of a good understanding, in spite of a good
beginning, and in spite of the most indefatigable industry, sink in his
circumstances, lose his credit, then his stock, and then break and become
bankrupt, while the man takes more pains to be poor than others do to grow
rich.
There, on the other hand, he sees G.D., a plodding, weak-headed, but
laborious wretch, of a confined genius, and that cannot look a quarter of a
mile from his shop-door into the world, and beginning with little or nothing,
yet rises apace in the mere road of business, in which he goes on like the
miller's horse, who, being tied to the post, is turned round by the very wheel
which he turns round himself; and this fellow shall get money insensibly,
and grow rich even he knows not how, and no body else knows why.
Here he sees F.M. ruined by too much trade, and there he sees M.F. starved
for want of trade; and from all these observations he may learn something
useful to himself, and fit to guide his own measures, that he may not fall
into the same mischiefs which he sees others sink under, and that he may
take the advantage of that prudence which others rise by.
All these things will naturally occur to him, in his conversing among his
fellow-tradesmen. A settled little society of trading people, who understand
business, and are carrying on trade in the same manner with himself, no
matter whether they are of the very same trades or no, and perhaps better
not of the same—such a society, I say, shall, if due observations are made
from it, teach the tradesman more than his apprenticeship; for there he

learned the operation, here he learns the progression; his apprenticeship is
his grammar-school, this is his university; behind his master's counter, or in
his warehouse, he learned the first rudiments of trade, but here he learns the
trading sciences; here he comes to learn the arcana, speak the language,
understand the meaning of every thing, of which before he only learned the
beginning: the apprenticeship inducts him, and leads him as the nurse the
child; this finishes him; there he learned the beginning of trade, here he sees
it in its full extent; in a word, there he learned to trade, here he is made a
complete tradesman.
Let no young tradesman object, that, in the conversation I speak of, there
are so many gross things said, and so many ridiculous things argued upon,
there being always a great many weak empty heads among the shopkeeping
trading world: this may be granted without any impeachment of what I have
advanced—for where shall a man converse, and find no fools in the
society?—and where shall he hear the weightiest things debated, and not a
great many empty weak things offered, out of which nothing can be learned,
and from which nothing can be deduced?—for 'out of nothing, nothing can
come.'
But, notwithstanding, let me still insist upon it to the tradesman to keep
company with tradesmen; let the fool run on in his own way; let the
talkative green-apron rattle in his own way; let the manufacturer and his
factor squabble and brangle; the grave self-conceited puppy, who was born
a boy, and will die before he is a man, chatter and say a great deal of
nothing, and talk his neighbours to death—out of every one you will learn
something—they are all tradesmen, and there is always something for a
young tradesman to learn from them. If, understanding but a little French,
you were to converse every day a little among some Frenchmen in your
neighbourhood, and suppose those Frenchmen, you thus kept company
with, were every one of them fools, mere ignorant, empty, foolish fellows,
there might be nothing learnt from their sense, but you would still learn
French from them, if it was no more than the tone and accent, and the
ordinary words usual in conversation.
Thus, among your silly empty tradesmen, let them be as foolish and empty
other ways as you can suggest, though you can learn no philosophy from
them, you may learn many things in trade from them, and something from

every one; for though it is not absolutely necessary that every tradesman
should be a philosopher, yet every tradesman, in his way, knows something
that even a philosopher may learn from.
I knew a philosopher that was excellently skilled in the noble science or
study of astronomy, who told me he had some years studied for some
simile, or proper allusion, to explain to his scholars the phenomena of the
sun's motion round its own axis, and could never happen upon one to his
mind, till by accident he saw his maid Betty trundling her mop: surprised
with the exactness of the motion to describe the thing he wanted, he goes
into his study, calls his pupils about him, and tells them that Betty, who
herself knew nothing of the matter, could show them the sun revolving
about itself in a more lively manner than ever he could. Accordingly, Betty
was called, and bidden bring out her mop, when, placing his scholars in a
due-position, opposite not to the face of the maid, but to her left side, so
that they could see the end of the mop, when it whirled round upon her arm.
They took it immediately—there was the broad-headed nail in the centre,
which was as the body of the sun, and the thrums whisking round, flinging
the water about every way by innumerable little streams, describing exactly
the rays of the sun, darting light from the centre to the whole system.
If ignorant Betty, by the natural consequences of her operation, instructed
the astronomer, why may not the meanest shoemaker or pedlar, by the
ordinary sagacity of his trading wit, though it may be indeed very ordinary,
coarse, and unlooked for, communicate something, give some useful hint,
dart some sudden thought into the mind of the observing tradesman, which
he shall make his use of, and apply to his own advantage in trade, when, at
the same time, he that gives such hint shall himself, like Betty and her mop,
know nothing of the matter?
Every tradesman is supposed to manage his business his own way, and,
generally speaking, most tradesmen have some ways peculiar and particular
to themselves, which they either derived from the masters who taught them,
or from the experience of things, or from something in the course of their
business, which had not happened to them before.
And those little nostrums are oftentime very properly and with advantage
communicated from one to another; one tradesman finds out a nearer way

of buying than another, another finds a vent for what is bought beyond what
his neighbour knows of, and these, in time, come to be learned of them by
their ordinary conversation.
I am not for confining the tradesman from keeping better company, as
occasion and leisure requires; I allow the tradesman to act the gentleman
sometimes, and that even for conversation, at least if his understanding and
capacity make him suitable company to them, but still his business is
among those of his own rank. The conversation of gentlemen, and what
they call keeping good company, may be used as a diversion, or as an
excursion, but his stated society must be with his neighbours, and people in
trade; men of business are companions for men of business; with gentlemen
he may converse pleasantly, but here he converses profitably; tradesmen are
always profitable to one another; as they always gain by trading together, so
they never lose by conversing together; if they do not get money, they gain
knowledge in business, improve their experience, and see farther and
farther into the world.
A man of but an ordinary penetration will improve himself by conversing in
matters of trade with men of trade; by the experience of the old tradesmen
they learn caution and prudence, and by the rashness and the miscarriages
of the young, they learn what are the mischiefs that themselves may be
exposed to.
Again, in conversing with men of trade, they get trade; men first talk
together, then deal together—many a good bargain is made, and many a
pound gained, where nothing was expected, by mere casual coming to talk
together, without knowing any thing of the matter before they met. The
tradesmen's meetings are like the merchants' exchange, where they manage,
negociate, and, indeed, beget business with one another.
Let no tradesman mistake me in this part; I am not encouraging them to
leave their shops and warehouses, to go to taverns and ale-houses, and
spend their time there in unnecessary prattle, which, indeed, is nothing but
sotting and drinking; this is not meeting to do business, but to neglect
business. Of which I shall speak fully afterwards.
But the tradesmen conversing with one another, which I mean, is the taking
suitable occasions to discourse with their fellow tradesmen, meeting them

in the way of their business, and improving their spare hours together. To
leave their shops, and quit their counters, in the proper seasons for their
attendance there, would be a preposterous negligence, would be going out
of business to gain business, and would be cheating themselves, instead of
improving themselves. The proper hours of business are sacred to the shop
and the warehouse. He that goes out of the order of trade, let the pretence of
business be what it will, loses his business, not increases it; and will, if
continued, lose the credit of his conduct in business also.
FOOTNOTES:
[10]
[The story of the political upholsterer forms the subject of several
amusing papers by Addison in the Tatler.]

[11]
[To stand in the presence of a prince is the highest mark of honour
in the east, as to sit is with us.]

CHAPTER V
DILIGENCE AND APPLICATION IN BUSINESS

Solomon was certainly a friend to men of business, as it appears by his
frequent good advice to them. In Prov. xviii. 9, he says, 'He that is slothful
in business, is brother to him that is a great waster:' and in another place,
'The sluggard shall be clothed in rags,' (Prov. xxiii. 1), or to that purpose.
On the contrary, the same wise man, by way of encouragement, tells them,
'The diligent hand maketh rich,' (Prov. x. 4), and, 'The diligent shall bear
rule, but the slothful shall be under tribute.'
Nothing can give a greater prospect of thriving to a young tradesman, than
his own diligence; it fills himself with hope, and gives him credit with all
who know him; without application, nothing in this world goes forward as it
should do: let the man have the most perfect knowledge of his trade, and the
best situation for his shop, yet without application nothing will go on. What
is the shop without the master? what the books without the book-keeper?
what the credit without the man? Hark how the people talk of such conduct
as the slothful negligent trader discovers in his way.
'Such a shop,' says the customer, 'stands well, and there is a good stock of
goods in it, but there is nobody to serve but a 'prentice-boy or two, and an
idle journeyman: one finds them always at play together, rather than
looking out for customers; and when you come to buy, they look as if they
did not care whether they showed you any thing or no. One never sees a
master in the shop, if we go twenty times, nor anything that bears the face
of authority. Then, it is a shop always exposed, it is perfectly haunted with
thieves and shop-lifters; they see nobody but raw boys in it, that mind
nothing, and the diligent devils never fail to haunt them, so that there are
more outcries of 'Stop thief!' at their door, and more constables fetched to
that shop, than to all the shops in the row. There was a brave trade at that
shop in Mr—'s time: he was a true shopkeeper; like the quack doctor, you
never missed him from seven in the morning till twelve, and from two till

nine at night, and he throve accordingly—he left a good estate behind him.
But I don't know what these people are; they say there are two partners of
them, but there had as good be none, for they are never at home, nor in their
shop: one wears a long wig and a sword, I hear, and you see him often in
the Mall and at court, but very seldom in his shop, or waiting on his
customers; and the other, they say, lies a-bed till eleven o'clock every day,
just comes into the shop and shows himself, then stalks about to the tavern
to take a whet, then to Child's coffee-house to hear the news, comes home
to dinner at one, takes a long sleep in his chair after it, and about four
o'clock comes into the shop for half an hour, or thereabouts, then to the
tavern, where he stays till two in the morning, gets drunk, and is led home
by the watch, and so lies till eleven again; and thus he walks round like the
hand of a dial. And what will it all come to?—they'll certainly break, that
you may be sure of; they can't hold it long.'
'This is the town's way of talking, where they see an example of it in the
manner as is described; nor are the inferences unjust, any more than the
description is unlike, for such certainly is the end of such management, and
no shop thus neglected ever made a tradesman rich.
On the contrary, customers love to see the master's face in the shop, and to
go to a shop where they are sure to find him at home. When he does not
sell, or cannot take the price offered, yet the customers are not disobliged,
and if they do not deal now, they may another time: if they do deal, the
master generally gets a better price for his goods than a servant can, besides
that he gives better content; and yet the customers always think they buy
cheaper of the master too.
I seem to be talking now of the mercer or draper, as if my discourse were
wholly bent and directed to them; but it is quite contrary, for it concerns
every tradesman—the advice is general, and every tradesman claims a share
in it; the nature of trade requires it. It is an old Anglicism, 'Such a man
drives a trade;' the allusion is to a carter, that with his voice, his hands, his
whip, and his constant attendance, keeps the team always going, helps
himself, lifts at the wheel in every slough, doubles his application upon
every difficulty, and, in a word, to complete the simile, if he is not always
with his horses, either the wagon is set in a hole, or the team stands still, or,
which is worst of all, the load is spoiled by the waggon overthrowing.

It is therefore no improper speech to say, such a man drives his trade; for, in
short, if trade is not driven, it will not go.
Trade is like a hand-mill, it must always be turned about by the diligent
hand of the master; or, if you will, like the pump-house at Amsterdam,
where they put offenders in for petty matters, especially beggars; if they
will work and keep pumping, they sit well, and dry and safe, and if they
work very hard one hour or two, they may rest, perhaps, a quarter of an
hour afterwards; but if they oversleep themselves, or grow lazy, the water
comes in upon them and wets them, and they have no dry place to stand in,
much less to sit down in; and, in short, if they continue obstinately idle,
they must sink; so that it is nothing but pump or drown, and they may
choose which they like best.
He that engages in trade, and does not resolve to work at it, is felo de se; it
is downright murdering himself; that is to say, in his trading capacity, he
murders his credit, he murders his stock, and he starves, which is as bad as
murdering, his family.
Trade must not be entered into as a thing of light concern; it is called
business very properly, for it is a business for life, and ought to be followed
as one of the great businesses of life—I do not say the chief, but one of the
great businesses of life it certainly is—trade must, I say, be worked at, not
played with; he that trades in jest, will certainly break in earnest; and this is
one reason indeed why so many tradesmen come to so hasty a conclusion of
their affairs.
There was another old English saying to this purpose, which shows how
much our old fathers were sensible of the duty of a shopkeeper: speaking of
the tradesman as just opening his shop, and beginning a dialogue with it;
the result of which is, that the shop replies to the tradesman thus: 'Keep me,
and I will keep thee.' It is the same with driving the trade; if the shopkeeper
will not keep, that is, diligently attend to his shop, the shop will not keep,
that is, maintain him: and in the other sense it is harsher to him, if he will
not drive his trade, the trade will drive him; that is, drive him out of the
shop, drive him away.
All these old sayings have this monitory substance in them; namely, they all
concur to fill a young tradesman with true notions of what he is going

about; and that the undertaking of a trade is not a sport or game, in which he
is to meet with diversions only, and entertainment, and not to be in the least
troubled or disturbed: trade is a daily employment, and must be followed as
such, with the full attention of the mind, and full attendance of the person;
nothing but what are to be called the necessary duties of life are to
intervene; and even these are to be limited so as not to be prejudicial to
business.
And now I am speaking of the necessary things which may intervene, and
which may divide the time with our business or trade, I shall state the
manner in a few words, that the tradesman may neither give too much, nor
take away too much, to or from any respective part of what may be called
his proper employment, but keep as due a balance of his time as he should
of his books or cash.
The life of man is, or should be, a measure of allotted time; as his time is
measured out to him, so the measure is limited, must end, and the end of it
is appointed.
The purposes for which time is given, and life bestowed, are very
momentous; no time is given uselessly, and for nothing; time is no more to
be unemployed, than it is to be ill employed. Three things are chiefly before
us in the appointment of our time: 1. Necessaries of nature. 2. Duties of
religion, or things relating to a future life. 3. Duties of the present life,
namely, business and calling.
I. Necessities of nature, such as eating and drinking; rest, or sleep; and in
case of disease, a recess from business; all which have two limitations on
them, and no more; namely, that they be
1. Referred to their proper seasons.
2. Used with moderation.
Both these might give me subject to write many letters upon; but I study
brevity, and desire rather to hint than dwell upon things which are serious
and grave, because I would not tire you.
II. Duties of religion: these may be called necessities too in their kind, and
that of the sublimest nature; and they ought not to be thrust at all out of

their place, and yet they ought to be kept in their place too.
III. Duties of life, that is to say, business, or employment, or calling, which
are divided into three kinds:
1. Labour, or servitude.
2. Employment.
3. Trade.
By labour, I mean the poor manualist, whom we properly call the labouring
man, who works for himself indeed in one respect, but sometimes serves
and works for wages, as a servant, or workman.
By employment, I mean men in business, which yet is not properly called
trade, such as lawyers, physicians, surgeons, scriveners, clerks, secretaries,
and such like: and
By trade I mean merchants and inland-traders, such as are already described
in the introduction to this work.
To speak of time, it is divided among these; even in them all there is a just
equality of circumstances to be preserved, and as diligence is required in
one, and necessity to be obeyed in another, so duty is to be observed in the
third; and yet all these with such a due regard to one another, as that one
duty may not jostle out another; and every thing going on with an equality
and just regard to the nature of the thing, the tradesman may go on with a
glad heart and a quiet conscience.
This article is very nice, as I intend to speak to it; and it is a dangerous thing
indeed to speak to, lest young tradesmen, treading on the brink of duty on
one side, and duty on the other side, should pretend to neglect their duty to
heaven, on pretence that I say they must not neglect their shops. But let
them do me justice, and they will do themselves no injury; nor do I fear that
my arguing on this point should give them any just cause to go wrong; if
they will go wrong, and plead my argument for their excuse, it must be by
their abusing my directions, and taking them in pieces, misplacing the
words, and disjointing the sense, and by the same method they may make
blasphemy of the Scripture.

The duties of life, I say, must not interfere with one another, must not jostle
one another out of the place, or so break in as to be prejudicial to one
another. It is certainly the duty of every Christian to worship God, to pay
his homage morning and evening to his Maker, and at all other proper
seasons to behave as becomes a sincere worshipper of God; nor must any
avocation, either of business or nature, however necessary, interfere with
this duty, either in public or in private. This is plainly asserting the necessity
of the duty, so no man can pretend to evade that.
But the duties of nature and religion also have such particular seasons, and
those seasons so proper to themselves, and so stated, as not to break in or
trench upon one another, that we are really without excuse, if we let any one
be pleaded for the neglect of the other. Food, sleep, rest, and the necessities
of nature, are either reserved for the night, which is appointed for man to
rest, or take up so little room in the day, that they can never be pleaded in
bar of either religion or employment.
He, indeed, who will sleep when he should work, and perhaps drink when
he should sleep, turns nature bottom upwards, inverts the appointment of
providence, and must account to himself, and afterwards to a higher judge,
for the neglect.
The devil—if it be the devil that tempts, for I would not wrong Satan
himself—plays our duties often one against another; and to bring us, if
possible, into confusion in our conduct, subtly throws religion out of its
place, to put it in our way, and to urge us to a breach of what we ought to
do: besides this subtle tempter—for, as above, I won't charge it all upon the
devil—we have a great hand in it ourselves; but let it be who it will, I say,
this subtle tempter hurries the well-meaning tradesman to act in all manner
of irregularity, that he may confound religion and business, and in the end
may destroy both.
When the tradesman well inclined rises early in the morning, and is moved,
as in duty to his Maker he ought, to pay his morning vows to him either in
his closet, or at the church, where he hears the six o'clock bell ring to call
his neighbours to the same duty—then the secret hint comes across his
happy intention, that he must go to such or such a place, that he may be
back time enough for such other business as has been appointed over-night,

and both perhaps may be both lawful and necessary; so his diligence
oppresses his religion, and away he runs to transact his business, and
neglects his morning sacrifice to his Maker.
On the other hand, and at another time, being in his shop, or his counting-
house, or warehouse, a vast throng of business upon his hands, and the
world in his head, when it is highly his duty to attend it, and shall be to his
prejudice to absent himself—then the same deceiver presses him earnestly
to go to his closet, or to the church to prayers, during which time his
customer goes to another place, the neighbours miss him in his shop, his
business is lost, his reputation suffers; and by this turned into a practice, the
man may say his prayers so long and so unseasonably till he is undone, and
not a creditor he has (I may give it him from experience) will use him the
better, or show him the more favour, when a commission of bankrupt comes
out against him.
Thus, I knew once a zealous, pious, religious tradesman, who would almost
shut up his shop every day about nine or ten o'clock to call all his family
together to prayers; and yet he was no presbyterian, I assure you; I say, he
would almost shut up his shop, for he would suffer none of his servants to
be absent from his family worship.
This man had certainly been right, had he made all his family get up by six
o'clock in the morning, and called them to prayers before he had opened his
shop; but instead of that, he first suffered sleep to interfere with religion,
and lying a-bed to postpone and jostle out his prayers—and then, to make
God Almighty amends upon himself, wounds his family by making his
prayers interfere with his trade, and shuts his customers out of his shop; the
end of which was, the poor good man deceived himself, and lost his
business.
Another tradesman, whom I knew personally well, was raised in the
morning very early, by the outcries of his wife, to go and fetch a midwife. It
was necessary, in his way, to go by a church, where there was always, on
that day of the week, a morning sermon early, for the supplying the
devotion of such early Christians as he; so the honest man, seeing the door
open, steps in, and seeing the minister just gone up into the pulpit, sits
down, joins in the prayers, hears the sermon, and goes very gravely home

again; in short, his earnestness in the worship, and attention to what he had
heard, quite put the errand he was sent about out of his head; and the poor
woman in travail, after having waited long for the return of her husband
with the midwife, was obliged (having run an extreme hazard by depending
on his expedition) to dispatch other messengers, who fetched the midwife,
and she was come, and the work over, long before the sermon was done, or
that any body heard of the husband: at last, he was met coming gravely
home from the church, when being upbraided with his negligence, in a
dreadful surprise he struck his hands together, and cried out, 'How is my
wife? I profess I forgot it!'
What shall we say now to this ill-timed devotion, and who must tempt the
poor man to this neglect? Certainly, had he gone for the midwife, it had
been much more his duty, than to go to hear a sermon at that time.
I knew also another tradesman, who was such a sermon-hunter, and, as
there are lectures and sermons preached in London, either in the churches or
meeting-houses, almost every day in the week, used so assiduously to hunt
out these occasions, that whether it was in a church or meeting-house, or
both, he was always abroad to hear a sermon, at least once every day, and
sometimes more; and the consequence was, that the man lost his trade, his
shop was entirely neglected, the time which was proper for him to apply to
his business was misapplied, his trade fell off, and the man broke.
Now it is true, and I ought to take notice of it also, that, though these things
happen, and may wrong a tradesman, yet it is oftener, ten times for once,
that tradesmen neglect their shop and business to follow the track of their
vices and extravagence—some by taverns, others to the gaming-houses,
others to balls and masquerades, plays, harlequins, and operas, very few by
too much religion.
But my inference is still sound, and the more effectually so as to that part;
for if our business and trades are not to be neglected, no, not for the
extraordinary excursions of religion, and religious duties, much less are
they to be neglected for vices and extravagances.
This is an age of gallantry and gaiety, and never was the city transposed to
the court as it is now; the play-houses and balls are now filled with citizens
and young tradesmen, instead of gentlemen and families of distinction; the

shopkeepers wear a differing garb now, and are seen with their long wigs
and swords, rather than with aprons on, as was formerly the figure they
made.
But what is the difference in the consequences? You did not see in those
days acts of grace for the relief of insolvent debtors almost every session of
parliament, and yet the jails filled with insolvents before the next year,
though ten or twelve thousand have been released at a time by those acts.
Nor did you hear of so many commissions of bankrupt every week in the
Gazette, as is now the case; in a word, whether you take the lower sort of
tradesman, or the higher, where there were twenty that failed in those days,
I believe I speak within compass if I say that five hundred turn insolvent
now; it is, as I said above, an age of pleasure, and as the wise man said long
ago, 'He that loves pleasure shall be a poor man'—so it is now; it is an age
of drunkenness and extravagance, and thousands ruin themselves by that; it
is an age of luxurious and expensive living, and thousands more undo
themselves by that; but, among all our vices, nothing ruins a tradesman so
effectually as the neglect of his business: it is true, all those things prompt
men to neglect their business, but the more seasonable is the advice; either
enter upon no trade, undertake no business, or, having undertaken it, pursue
it diligently: drive your trade, that the world may not drive you out of trade,
and ruin and undo you. Without diligence a man can never thoroughly
understand his business and how should a man thrive, when he does not
perfectly know what he is doing, or how to do it? Application to his trade
teaches him how to carry it on, as much as his going apprentice taught him
how to set it up. Certainly, that man shall never improve in his trading
knowledge, that does not know his business, or how to carry it on: the
diligent tradesman is always the knowing and complete tradesman.
Now, in order to have a man apply heartily, and pursue earnestly, the
business he is engaged in, there is yet another thing necessary, namely, that
he should delight in it: to follow a trade, and not to love and delight in it, is
a slavery, a bondage, not a business: the shop is a bridewell, and the
warehouse a house of correction to the tradesman, if he does not delight in
his trade. While he is bound, as we say, to keep his shop, he is like the
galley-slave chained down to the oar; he tugs and labours indeed, and exerts
the utmost of his strength, for fear of the strapado, and because he is

obliged to do it; but when he is on shore, and is out from the bank, he
abhors the labour, and hates to come to it again.
To delight in business is making business pleasant and agreeable; and such
a tradesman cannot but be diligent in it, which, according to Solomon,
makes him certainly rich, and in time raises him above the world and able
to instruct and encourage those who come after him.

CHAPTER VI
OVER-TRADING

It is an observation, indeed, of my own, but I believe it will hold true almost
in all the chief trading towns in England, that there are more tradesmen
undone by having too much trade, than for want of trade. Over-trading is
among tradesmen as over-lifting is among strong men: such people, vain of
the strengh, and their pride prompting them to put it to the utmost trial, at
last lift at something too heavy for them, over-strain their sinews, break
some of nature's bands, and are cripples ever after.
I take over-trading to be to a shopkeeper as ambition is to a prince. The late
king of France, the great king Louis, ambition led him to invade the
dominions of his neighbours; and while upon the empire here, or the states-
general there, or the Spanish Netherlands on another quarter, he was an
over-match for every one, and, in their single capacity, he gained from them
all; but at last pride made him think himself a match for them all together,
and he entered into a declared war against the emperor and the empire, the
kings of Spain and Great Britain, and the states of Holland, all at once. And
what was the consequence? They reduced him to the utmost distress, he lost
all his conquests, was obliged, by a dishonourable peace, to quit what he
had got by encroachment, to demolish his invincible towns, such as
Pignerol, Dunkirk, &c., the two strongest fortresses in Europe; and, in a
word, like a bankrupt monarch, he may, in many cases, be said to have died
a beggar.
Thus the strong man in the fable, who by main strength used to rive a tree,
undertook one at last which was too strong for him, and it closed upon his
fingers, and held him till the wild beasts came and devoured him. Though
the story is a fable, the moral is good to my present purpose, and is not at all
above my subject; I mean that of a tradesman, who should be warned
against over-trading, as earnestly, and with as much passion, as I would
warn a dealer in gunpowder to be wary of fire, or a distiller or rectifier of

spirits to moderate his furnace, lest the heads of his stills fly off, and he
should be scalded to death.
For a young tradesman to over-trade himself, is like a young swimmer
going out of his depth, when, if help does not come immediately, it is a
thousand to one but he sinks, and is drowned. All rash adventures are
condemned by the prudent part of mankind; but it is as hard to restrain
youth in trade, as it is in any other thing, where the advantage stands in
view, and the danger out of sight; the profits of trade are baits to the
avaricious shopkeeper, and he is forward to reckon them up to himself, but
does not perhaps cast up the difficulty which there may be to compass it, or
the unhappy consequences of a miscarriage.
For want of this consideration, the tradesman oftentimes drowns, as I may
call it, even within his depth—that is, he sinks when he has really the
substance at bottom to keep him up—and this is all owing to an
adventurous bold spirit in trade, joined with too great a gust of gain. Avarice
is the ruin of many people besides tradesmen; and I might give the late
South Sea calamity for an example in which the longest heads were most
overreached, not so much by the wit or cunning of those they had to deal
with as by the secret promptings of their own avarice; wherein they
abundantly verified an old proverbial speech or saying, namely, 'All covet,
all lose;' so it was there indeed, and the cunningest, wisest, sharpest, men
lost the most money.
There are two things which may be properly called over-trading, in a young
beginner; and by both which tradesmen are often overthrown.
1. Trading beyond their stock.
2. Giving too large credit.
A tradesman ought to consider and measure well the extent of his own
strengh; his stock of money, and credit, is properly his beginning; for credit
is a stock as well as money. He that takes too much credit is really in as
much danger as he that gives too much credit; and the danger lies
particularly in this, if the tradesman over-buys himself, that is, buys faster
than he can sell, buying upon credit, the payments perhaps become due too
soon for him; the goods not being sold, he must answer the bills upon the

strength of his proper stock—that is, pay for them out of his own cash; if
that should not hold out, he is obliged to put off his bills after they are due,
or suffer the impertinence of being dunned by the creditor, and perhaps by
servants and apprentices, and that with the usual indecencies of such kind of
people.
This impairs his credit, and if he comes to deal with the same merchant, or
clothier, or other tradesman again, he is treated like one that is but an
indifferent paymaster; and though they may give him credit as before, yet
depending that if he bargains for six months, he will take eight or nine in
the payment, they consider it in the price, and use him accordingly; and this
impairs his gain, so that loss of credit is indeed loss of money, and this
weakens him both ways.
A tradesman, therefore, especially at his beginning, ought to be very wary
of taking too much credit; he had much better slip the occasion of buying
now and then a bargain to his advantage, for that is usually the temptation,
than buying a greater quantity of goods than he can pay for, run into debt,
and be insulted, and at last ruined. Merchants, and wholesale dealers, to put
off their goods, are very apt to prompt young shopkeepers and young
tradesmen to buy great quantities of goods, and take large credit at first; but
it is a snare that many a young beginner has fallen into, and been ruined in
the very bud; for if the young beginner does not find a vent for the quantity,
he is undone; for at the time of payment the merchant expects his money,
whether the goods are sold or not; and if he cannot pay, he is gone at once.
The tradesman that buys warily, always pays surely, and every young
beginner ought to buy cautiously; if he has money to pay, he need never
fear goods to be had; the merchants' warehouses are always open, and he
may supply himself upon all occasions, as he wants, and as his customers
call.
It may pass for a kind of an objection here, that there are some goods which
a tradesman may deal in, which are to be bought at such and such markets
only, and at such and such fairs only, that is to say, are chiefly bought there;
as the cheesemongers buy their stocks of cheese and of butter, the cheese at
several fairs in Warwickshire, as at Atherston fair in particular, or at fair in
Gloucestershire, and at Sturbridge fair, near Cambridge; and their butter at

Ipswich fair, in Suffolk; and so of many other things; but the answer is
plain: those things which are generally bought thus, are ready money goods,
and the tradesman has a sure rule for buying, namely, his cash. But as I am
speaking of taking credit, so I must be necessarily supposed to speak of
such goods as are bought upon credit, as the linen-draper buys of the
Hamburgh and Dutch merchants, the woollen-draper of the Blackwell-hall
men, the haberdasher of the thread merchants, the mercer of the weavers
and Italian merchants, the silk-man of the Turkey merchants, and the like;
here they are under no necessity of running deep into debt, but may buy
sparingly, and recruit again as they sell off.
I know some tradesmen are very fond of seeing their shops well-stocked,
and their warehouses full of goods, and this is a snare to them, and brings
them to buy in more goods than they want; but this is a great error, either in
their judgment or their vanity; for, except in retailers' shops, and that in
some trades where they must have a great choice of goods, or else may
want a trade, otherwise a well-experienced tradesman had rather see his
warehouse too empty than too full: if it be too empty, he can fill it when he
pleases, if his credit be good, or his cash strong; but a thronged warehouse
is a sign of a want of customers, and of a bad market; whereas, an empty
warehouse is a sign of a nimble demand.[12]
Let no young tradesman value himself upon having a very great throng of
goods in hand, having just a necessary supply to produce a choice of new
and fashionable goods—nay, though he be a mercer, for they are the most
under the necessity of a large stock of goods; but I say, supposing even the
mercer to have a tolerable show and choice of fashionable goods, that gives
his shop a reputation, he derives no credit at all from a throng of old
shopkeepers, as they call them, namely, out-of-fashion things: but in other
trades it is much more a needful caution; a few goods, and a quick sale, is
the beauty of a tradesman's warehouse, or shop either; and it is his wisdom
to keep himself in that posture that his payments may come in on his front
as fast as they go out in his rear; that he may be able to answer the demands
of his merchants or dealers, and, if possible, let no man come twice for his
money.
The reason of this is plain, and leads me back to where I began; credit is
stock, and, if well supported, is as good as a stock, and will be as durable. A

tradesman whose credit is good, untouched, unspotted, and who, as above,
has maintained it with care, shall in many cases buy his goods as cheap at
three or four months' time of payment, as another man shall with ready
money—I say in some cases, and in goods which are ordinarily sold for
time, as all our manufactures, the bay trade excepted, generally are.
He, then, that keeps his credit unshaken, has a double stock—I mean, it is
an addition to his real stock, and often superior to it: nay, I have known
several considerable tradesmen in this city who have traded with great
success, and to a very considerable degree, and yet have not had at bottom
one shilling real stock; but by the strength of their reputation, being sober
and diligent, and having with care preserved the character of honest men,
and the credit of their business, by cautious dealing and punctual payments,
they have gone on till the gain of their trade has effectually established
them, and they have raised estates out of nothing.
But to return to the dark side, namely, over-trading; the second danger is the
giving too much credit. He that takes credit may give credit, but he must be
exceedingly watchful; for it is the most dangerous state of life that a
tradesman can live in, for he is in as much jeopardy as a seaman upon a lee-
shore.
If the people he trusts fail, or fail but of a punctual compliance with him, he
can never support his own credit, unless by the caution I am now giving;
that is, to be very sure not to give so much credit as he takes.
By the word so much, I must be understood thus—either he must sell for
shorter time than he takes, or in less quantity; the last is the safest, namely,
that he should be sure not to trust out so much as he is trusted with. If he
has a real stock, indeed, besides the credit he takes, that, indeed, makes the
case differ; and a man that can pay his own debts, whether other people pay
him or no, that man is out of the question—he is past danger, and cannot be
hurt; but if he trusts beyond the extent of his stock and credit, even he may
be overthrown too.

There were many sad examples of this in the time of the late war,[13] and in
the days when the public credit was in a more precarious condition that it
has been since—I say, sad examples, namely, when tradesmen in
flourishing circumstances, and who had indeed good estates at bottom, and

were in full credit themselves, trusted the public with too great sums;
which, not coming in at the time expected, either by the deficiency of the
funds given by parliament, and the parliament themselves not soon making
good those deficiencies, or by other disasters of those times; I say, their
money not coming in to answer their demands, they were ruined, at least
their credit wounded, and some quite undone, who yet, had they been paid,
could have paid all their own debts, and had good sums of money left.
Others, who had ability to afford it, were obliged to sell their tallies and
orders at forty or fifty per cent. loss; from whence proceeded that black
trade of buying and selling navy and victualling bills and transport debts, by
which the brokers and usurers got estates, and many thousands of
tradesmen were brought to nothing; even those that stood it, lost great sums
of money by selling their tallies: but credit cannot be bought too dear; and
the throwing away one half to save the other, was much better than sinking
under the burden; like sailors in a storm, who, to lighten the ship wallowing
in the trough of the sea, will throw the choicest goods overboard, even to
half the cargo, in order to keep the ship above water, and save their lives.
These were terrible examples of over-trading indeed; the men were tempted
by the high price which the government gave for their goods, and which
they were obliged to give, because of the badness of the public credit at that
time; but this was not sufficient to make good the loss sustained in the sale
of the tallies, so that even they that sold and were able to stand without ruin,
were yet great sufferers, and had enough to do to keep up their credit.
This was the effect of giving over-much credit; for though it was the
government itself which they trusted, yet neither could the government
itself keep up the sinking credit of those whom it was indebted to; and,
indeed, how should it, when it was not able to support its own credit? But
that by the way. I return to the young tradesman, whom we are now
speaking about.
It is his greatest prudence, therefore, after he has considered his own fund,
and the stock he has to rest upon—I say, his next business is to take care of
his credit, and, next to limiting his buying-liberty, let him be sure to limit
his selling. Could the tradesman buy all upon credit, and sell all for ready
money, he might turn usurer, and put his own stock out to interest, or buy

land with it, for he would have no occasion for one shilling of it; but since
that is not expected, nor can be done, it is his business to act with prudence
in both parts—I mean of taking and giving credit—and the best rule to be
given him for it is, never to give so much credit as he takes, by at least one-
third part.
By giving credit, I do not mean, that even all the goods which he buys upon
credit, may not be sold upon credit; perhaps they are goods which are
usually sold so, and no otherwise; but the alternative is before him thus—
either he must not give so much credit in quantity of goods, or not so long
credit in relation to time—for example:
Suppose the young tradesman buys ten thousand pounds' value of goods on
credit, and this ten thousand pounds are sold for eleven thousand pounds
likewise on credit; if the time given be the same, the man is in a state of
apparent destruction, and it is a hundred to one but he is blown up: perhaps
he owes the ten thousand pounds to twenty men, perhaps the eleven
thousand pounds is owing to him by two hundred men—it is scarce possible
that these two hundred petty customers of his, should all so punctually
comply with their payments as to enable him to comply with his; and if two
or three thousand pounds fall short, the poor tradesman, unless he has a
fund to support the deficiency, must be undone.
But if the man had bought ten thousand pounds at six or eight months'
credit, and had sold them all again as above to his two hundred customers,
at three months' and four months' credit, then it might be supposed all, or
the greatest part of them, would have paid time enough to make his
payments good; if not, all would be lost still.
But, on the other hand, suppose he had sold but three thousand pounds'
worth of the ten for ready money, and had sold the rest for six months'
credit, it might be supposed that the three thousand pounds in cash, and
what else the two hundred debtors might pay in time, might stop the months
of the tradesman's creditors till the difference might be made good.
So easy a thing is it for a tradesman to lose his credit in trade, and so hard is
it, once upon such a blow, to retrieve it again. What need, then, is there for
the tradesman to guard himself against running too far into debt, or letting
other people run too far into debt to him; for if they do not pay him, he

cannot pay others, and the next thing is a commission of bankrupt, and so
the tradesman may be undone, though he has eleven thousand pounds to
pay ten with?
It is true, it is not possible in a country where there is such an infinite extent
of trade as we see managed in this kingdom, that either on one hand or
another it can be carried on, without a reciprocal credit both taken and
given; but it is so nice an article, that I am of opinion as many tradesmen
break with giving too much credit, as break with taking it. The danger,
indeed, is mutual, and very great. Whatever, then, the young tradesman
omits, let him guard against both his giving and taking too much credit.
But there are divers ways of over-trading, besides this of taking and giving
too much credit; and one of these is the running out into projects and heavy
undertakings, either out of the common road which the tradesman is already
engaged in, or grasping at too many undertakings at once, and having, as it
is vulgarly expressed, too many irons in the fire at a time; in both which
cases the tradesman is often wounded, and that deeply, sometimes too deep
to recover.
The consequences of those adventures are generally such as these: first, that
they stock-starve the tradesman, and impoverish him in his ordinary
business, which is the main support of his family; they lessen his strength,
and while his trade is not lessened, yet his stock is lessened; and as they
very rarely add to his credit, so, if they lessen the man's stock, they weaken
him in the main, and he must at last faint under it.
Secondly, as they lessen his stock, so they draw from it in the most sensible
part—they wound him in the tenderest and most nervous part, for they
always draw away his ready money; and what follows? The money, which
was before the sinews of his business, the life of his trade, maintained his
shop, and kept up his credit in the full extent of it, being drawn off, like the
blood let out of the veins, his trade languishes, his credit, by degrees, flags
and goes off, and the tradesman falls under the weight.
Thus I have seen many a flourishing tradesman sensibly decay; his credit
has first a little suffered, then for want of that credit trade has declined—
that is to say, he has been obliged to trade for less and less, till at last he is
wasted and reduced: if he has been wise enough and wary enough to draw

out betimes, and avoid breaking, he has yet come out of trade, like an old
invalid soldier out of the wars, maimed, bruised, sick, reduced, and fitter for
an hospital than a shop—such miserable havoc has launching out into
projects and remote undertakings made among tradesmen.
But the safe tradesman is he, that avoiding all such remote excursions,
keeps close within the verge of his own affairs, minds his shop or
warehouse, and confining himself to what belongs to him there, goes on in
the road of his business without launching into unknown oceans; and
content with the gain of his own trade, is neither led by ambition or avarice,
and neither covets to be greater nor richer by such uncertain and hazardous
attempts.
FOOTNOTES:

[12]
[The keeping of a half empty shop will not suit the necessities of
trade in modern times. Instead of following the advice of Defoe,
therefore, the young tradesman is recommended to keep a
sufficient stock of every kind of goods in which he professes to
deal. A shopkeeper can hardly commit a greater blunder than
allow himself to be out of any article of his trade. One of his chief
duties ought to consist in keeping up a fresh stock of every article
which there is a chance of being sought for, and, while avoiding
the imprudence of keeping too large a stock of goods—which
comes nearest to Defoe's meaning—it is certain that, by having on
hand an abundant choice, the shop gains a name, and has the best
chance of securing a concourse of customers.]

[13]
[The war of the Spanish succession, concluded by the treaty of
Utrecht, 1713.]

CHAPTER VII
OF THE TRADESMAN IN DISTRESS, AND BECOMING BANKRUPT

In former times it was a dismal and calamitous thing for a tradesman to
break. Where it befell a family, it put all into confusion and distraction; the
man, in the utmost terror, fright, and distress, ran away with what goods he
could get off, as if the house were on fire, to get into the Friars[14] or the
Mint; the family fled, one one way, and one another, like people in
desperation; the wife to her father and mother, if she had any, and the
children, some to one relation, some to another. A statute (so they vulgarly
call a commission of bankrupt) came and swept away all, and oftentimes
consumed it too, and left little or nothing, either to pay the creditors or
relieve the bankrupt. This made the bankrupt desperate, and made him fly to
those places of shelter with his goods, where, hardened by the cruelty of the
creditors, he chose to spend all the effects which should have paid the
creditors, and at last perished in misery.
But now the case is altered; men make so little of breaking, that many times
the family scarce removes for it. A commission of bankrupt is so familiar a
thing, that the debtor oftentimes causes it to be taken out in his favour, that
he may sooner be effectually delivered from all his creditors at once, the
law obliging him only to give a full account of himself upon oath to the
commissioners, who, when they see his integrity, may effectually deliver
him from all further molestation, give him a part even of the creditors'
estate; and so he may push into the world again, and try whether he cannot
retrieve his fortunes by a better management, or with better success for the
future.
Some have said, this law is too favourable to the bankrupt; that it makes
tradesmen careless; that they value not breaking at all, but run on at all
hazards, venturing without forecast and without consideration, knowing
they may come off again so cheap and so easy, if they miscarry. But though
I cannot enter here into a long debate upon that subject, yet I may have

room to say, that I differ from those people very much; for, though the terror
of the commission is in some measure abated, as indeed it ought to be,
because it was before exorbitant and unreasonable, yet the terror of ruining
a man's family, sinking his fortunes, blasting his credit, and throwing him
out of business, and into the worst of disgrace that a tradesman can fall into,
this is not taken away, or abated at all; and this, to an honest trading man, is
as bad as all the rest ever was or could be.
Nor can a man be supposed, in the rupture of his affairs, to receive any
comfort, or to see through his disasters into the little relief which he may,
and at the same time cannot be sure he shall, receive, at the end of his
troubles, from the mercy of the commission.
These are poor things, and very trifling for a tradesman to entertain
thoughts of a breach from, especially with any prospect of satisfaction; nor
can any tradesman with the least shadow of principle entertain any thought
of breaking, but with the utmost aversion, and even abhorrence; for the
circumstances of it are attended with so many mortifications, and so many
shocking things, contrary to all the views and expectations that a tradesman
can begin the world with, that he cannot think of it, but as we do of the
grave, with a chillness upon the blood, and a tremor in the spirits. Breaking
is the death of a tradesman; he is mortally stabbed, or, as we may say, shot
through the head, in his trading capacity; his shop is shut up, as it is when a
man is buried; his credit, the life and blood of his trade, is stagnated; and his
attendance, which was the pulse of his business, is stopped, and beats no
more; in a word, his fame, and even name, as to trade is buried, and the
commissioners, that act upon him, and all their proceedings, are but like the
executors of the defunct, dividing the ruins of his fortune, and at last, his
certificate is a kind of performing the obsequies for the dead, and praying
him out of purgatory.
Did ever tradesman set up on purpose to break? Did ever a man build
himself a house on purpose to have it burnt down? I can by no means grant
that any tradesman, at least in his senses, can entertain the least satisfaction
in his trading, or abate any thing of his diligence in trade, from the easiness
of breaking, or the abated severities of the bankrupt act.

I could argue it from the nature of the act itself, which, indeed, was made,
and is effectual, chiefly for the relief of creditors, not debtors; to secure the
bankrupt's effects for the use of those to whom it of right belongs, and to
prevent the extravagant expenses of the commission, which before were
such as often devoured all, ruining both the bankrupt and his creditors too.
This the present law has providently put a stop to; and the creditors now are
secure in this point, that what is to be had, what the poor tradesman has left,
they are sure to have preserved for, and divided among them, which,
indeed, before they were not. The case is so well known, and so recent in
every tradesman's memory, that I need not take up any more of your time
about it.
As to the encouragements in the act for the bankrupt, they are only these—
namely, that, upon his honest and faithful surrender of his affairs, he shall
be set at liberty; and if they see cause, they, the creditors, may give him
back a small gratification for his discovering his effects, and assisting to the
recovery of them; and all this, which amounts to very little, is upon his
being, as I have said, entirely honest, and having run through all possible
examinations and purgations, and that it is at the peril of his life if he
prevaricates.
Are these encouragements to tradesmen to be negligent and careless of the
event of things? Will any man in his wits fail in his trade, break his credit,
and shut up his shop, for these prospects? Or will he comfort himself in
case he is forced to fail—I say, will he comfort himself with these little
benefits, and make the matter easy to himself on that account? He must
have a very mean spirit that can do this, and must act upon very mean
principles in life, who can fall with satisfaction, on purpose to rise no higher
than this; it is like a man going to bed on purpose to rise naked, pleasing
himself with the thoughts that, though he shall have no clothes to put on,
yet he shall have the liberty to get out of bed and shift for himself.
On these accounts, and some others, too long to mention here, I think it is
out of doubt, that the easiness of the proceedings on commissions of
bankrupt can be no encouragement to any tradesman to break, or so much
as to entertain the thoughts of it, with less horror and aversion than he
would have done before this law was made.

But I must come now to speak of the tradesman in his real state of
mortification, and under the inevitable necessity of a blow upon his affairs.
He has had losses in his business, such as are too heavy for his stock to
support; he has, perhaps, launched out in trade beyond his reach: either he
has so many bad debts, that he cannot find by his books he has enough left
to pay his creditors, or his debts lie out of his reach, and he cannot get them
in, which in one respect is as bad; he has more bills running against him
than he knows how to pay, and creditors dunning him, whom it is hard for
him to comply with; and this, by degrees, sinks his credit.
Now, could the poor unhappy tradesman take good advice, now would be
his time to prevent his utter ruin, and let his case be better or worse, his way
is clear.
If it be only that he has overshot himself in trade, taken too much credit,
and is loaded with goods; or given too much credit, and cannot get his debts
in; but that, upon casting up his books, he finds his circumstances good at
bottom, though his credit has suffered by his effects being out of his hands;
let him endeavour to retrench, let him check his career in trade—
immediately take some extraordinary measures to get in his debts, or some
extraordinary measures, if he can, to raise money in the meantime, till those
debts come in, that he may stop the crowd of present demands. If this will
not do, let him treat with some of his principal creditors, showing them a
true and faithful state of his affairs, and giving them the best assurances he
can of payment, that they may be easy with him till he can get in his debts;
and then, with the utmost care, draw in his trade within the due compass of
his stock, and be sure never to run out again farther than he is able to
answer, let the prospect of advantage be what it will; and by this method he
may perhaps recover his credit again, at least he may prevent his ruin. But
this is always supposing the man has a firm bottom, that he is sound in the
main, and that his stock is at least sufficient to pay all his debts.
But the difficulty which I am proposing to speak of, is when the poor
tradesman, distressed as above in point of credit, looking into his affairs,
finds that his stock is diminished, or perhaps entirely sunk—that, in short,
he has such losses and such disappointments in his business, that he is not
sound at bottom; that he has run too far, and that his own stock being

wasted or sunk, he has not really sufficient to pay his debts; what is this
man's business?—and what course shall he take?
I know the ordinary course with such tradesmen is this:—'It is true,' says the
poor man, 'I am running down, and I have lost so much in such a place, and
so much by such a chapman that broke, and, in short, so much, that I am
worse than nothing; but come, I have such a thing before me, or I have
undertaken such a project, or I have such an adventure abroad, if it suceeds,
I may recover again; I'll try my utmost; I'll never drown while I can swim;
I'll never fall while I can stand; who knows but I may get over it?' In a
word, the poor man is loth to come to the fatal day; loth to have his name in
the Gazette, and see his wife and family turned out of doors, and the like;
who can blame him? or who is not, in the like case, apt to take the like
measures?—for it is natural to us all to put the evil day far from us, at least
to put it as far off as we can. Though the criminal believes he shall be
executed at last, yet he accepts of every reprieve, as it puts him within the
possibility of an escape, and that as long as there is life there is hope; but at
last the dead warrant comes down, then he sees death unavoidable, and
gives himself up to despair.
Indeed, the malefactor was in the right to accept, as I say, of every reprieve,
but it is quite otherwise in the tradesman's case; and if I may give him a
rule, safe, and in its end comfortable, in proportion to his circumstances,
but, to be sure, out of question, just, honest, and prudent, it is this:—
When he perceives his case as above, and knows that if his new adventures
or projects should fail, he cannot by any means stand or support himself, I
not only give it as my advice to all tradesmen, as their interest, but insist
upon it, as they are honest men, they should break, that is, stop in time: fear
not to do that which necessity obliges you to do; but, above all, fear not to
do that early, which, if omitted, necessity will oblige you to do late.
First, let me argue upon the honesty of it, and next upon the prudence of it.
Certainly, honesty obliges every man, when he sees that his stock is gone,
that he is below the level, and eating into the estate of other men, to put a
stop to it, and to do it in time, while something is left. It has been a fault,
without doubt, to break in upon other men's estates at all; but perhaps a plea
may be made that it was ignorantly done, and they did not think they were

run so far as to be worse than nothing; or some sudden disaster may have
occasioned it, which they did not expect, and, it may be, could not foresee;
both which may indeed happen to a tradesman, though the former can
hardly happen without his fault, because he ought to be always acquainting
himself with his books, stating his expenses and his profits, and casting
things up frequently, at least in his head, so as always to know whether he
goes backward or forward. The latter, namely, sudden disaster, may happen
so to any tradesman as that he may be undone, and it may not be his fault;
for ruin sometimes falls as suddenly as unavoidably upon a tradesman,
though there are but very few incidents of that kind which may not be
accounted for in such a manner as to charge it upon his prudence.
Some cases may indeed happen, some disasters may befall a tradesman,
which it was not possible he should foresee, as fire, floods of water, thieves,
and many such—and in those cases the disaster is visible, the plea is open,
every body allows it, the man can have no blame. A prodigious tide from
the sea, joined with a great fresh or flood in the river Dee, destroyed the
new wharf below the Roodee at West Chester, and tore down the merchants'
warehouses there, and drove away not only all the goods, but even the
buildings and altogether, into the sea. Now, if a poor shopkeeper in Chester
had a large parcel of goods lying there, perhaps newly landed in order to be
brought up to the city, but were all swept away, if, I say, the poor tradesman
were ruined by the loss of those goods on that occasion, the creditors would
see reason in it that they should every one take a share in the loss; the
tradesman was not to blame.
Likewise in the distress of the late fire which began in Thames Street, near
Bear Quay, a grocer might have had a quantity of goods in a warehouse
thereabouts, or his shop might be there, and the goods perhaps might be
sugars, or currants, or tobacco, or any other goods in his way, which could
not be easily removed; this fire was a surprise, it was a blast of powder, it
was at noonday, when no person coud foresee it. The man may have been
undone and be in no fault himself, one way or other; no man can reasonably
say to him, why did you keep so many goods upon your hands, or in such a
place? for it was his proper business both to have a stock of goods, and to
have them in such a place; every thing was in the right position, and in the
order which the nature of his trade required.

On the other hand, if it was the breaking of a particular chapman, or an
adventure by sea, the creditors would perhaps reflect on his prudence; why
should any man trust a single chapman so much, or adventure so much in
one single bottom, and uninsured, as that the loss of it would be his
undoing?
But there are other cases, however, which may happen to a tradesman, and
by which he may be at once reduced below his proper stock, and have
nothing left to trade on but his credit, that is to say, the estates of his
creditors. In such a case, I question whether it can be honest for any man to
continue trading; for, first, it is making his creditors run an unjust hazard,
without their consent; indeed, if he discovers his condition to one or two of
them, who are men of capital stocks, and will support him, they giving him
leave to pay others off, and go on at their risks, that alters the case; or if he
has a ready money trade, that will apparently raise him again, and he runs
no more hazards, but is sure he shall at least run out no farther; in these two
cases, and I do not know another, he may with honesty continue.
On the contrary, when he sees himself evidently running out, and declining,
and has only a shift here and a shift there, to lay hold on, as sinking men
generally do; and knows, that unless something extraordinary happen,
which, perhaps, also is not probable, he must fall, for such a man to go on,
and trade in the ordinary way, notwithstanding losses, and hazards—in such
a case, I affirm, he cannot act the honest man, he cannot go on with justice
to his creditors, or his family; he ought to call his creditors together, lay his
circumstances honestly before them, and pay as far as it will go. If his
creditors will do any thing generously for him, to enable him to go on
again, well and good, but he cannot honestly oblige them to run the risk of
his unfortunate progress, and to venture their estates on his bottom, after his
bottom is really nothing at all but their money.
But I pass from the honesty to the prudence of it—from what regards his
creditors, to what regards himself—and I affirm, nothing can be more
imprudent and impolite, as it regards himself and his family, than to go on
after he sees his circumstances irrecoverable. If he has any consideration for
himself, or his future happiness, he will stop in time, and not be afraid of
meeting the mischief which he sees follows too fast for him to escape; be
not so afraid of breaking, as not to break till necessity forces you, and that

you have nothing left. In a word, I speak it to every declining tradesman, if
you love yourself, your family, or your reputation, and would ever hope to
look the world in the face again, break in time.
By breaking in time you will first obtain the character of an honest, though
unfortunate man; it is owing to the contrary course, which is indeed the
ordinary practice of tradesmen, namely, not to break till they run the bottom
quite out, and have little or nothing left to pay; I say, it is owing to this, that
some people think all men that break are knaves. The censure, it is true, is
unjust, but the cause is owing to the indiscretion, to call it no worse, of the
poor tradesmen, who putting the mischief as far from them as they can,
trade on to the last gasp, till a throng of creditors coming on them together,
or being arrested, and not able to get bail, or by some such public blow to
their credit, they are brought to a stop or breach of course, like a man
fighting to the last gasp who is knocked down, and laid on the ground, and
then his resistance is at an end; for indeed a tradesman pushing on under
irresistable misfortunes is but fighting with the world to the last drop, and
with such unequal odds, that like the soldier surrounded with enemies, he
must be killed; so the debtor must sink, it cannot be prevented.
It is true, also, the man that thus struggles to the last, brings upon him an
universal reproach, and a censure, that is not only unavoidable, but just,
which is worse; but when a man breaks in time, he may hold up his face to
his creditors, and tell them, that he could have gone on a considerable while
longer, but that he should have had less left to pay them with, and that he
has chosen to stop while he may be able to give them so considerable a sum
as may convince them of his integrity.
We have a great clamour among us of the cruelty of creditors, and it is a
popular clamour, that goes a great way with some people; but let them tell
us when ever creditors were cruel, when the debtor came thus to them with
fifteen shillings in the pound in his offer. Perhaps when the debtor has run
to the utmost, and there appears to be little or nothing left, he has been used
roughly; and it is enough to provoke a creditor, indeed, to be offered a
shilling or half-a-crown in the pound for a large debt, when, had the debtor
been honest, and broke in time, he might have received perhaps two-thirds
of his debt, and the debtor been in better condition too.

Break then in time, young tradesman, if you see you are going down, and
that the hazard of going on is doubtful; you will certainly be received by
your creditors with compassion, and with a generous treatment; and,
whatever happens, you will be able to begin the world again with the title of
an honest man—even the same creditors will embark with you again, and
be more forward to give you credit than before.
It is true, most tradesmen that break merit the name of knave or dishonest
man, but it is not so with all; the reason of the difference lies chiefly in the
manner of their breaking—namely, whether sooner or later. It is possible, he
may be an honest man who cannot, but he can never be honest that can, and
will not pay his debts. Now he, that, being able to pay fifteen shillings in
the pound, will struggle on till he sees he shall not be able to pay half-a-
crown in the pound, this man was able to pay, but would not, and, therefore,
as above, cannot be an honest man.
In the next place, what shall we say to the peace and satisfaction of mind in
breaking, which the tradesman will always have when he acts the honest
part, and breaks betimes, compared to that guilt and chagrin of the mind,
occasioned by a running on, as I said, to the last gasp, when they have little
to pay? Then, indeed, the tradesman can expect no quarter from his
creditors, and will have no quiet in himself.
I might instance here the miserable, anxious, perplexed life, which the poor
tradesman lives under; the distresses and extremities of his declining state;
how harassed and tormented for money; what shifts he is driven to for
supporting himself; how many little, mean, and even wicked things, will
even the religious tradesman stoop to in his distress, to deliver himself—
even such things as his very soul would abhor at another time, and for
which he goes perhaps with a wounded conscience all his life after!
By giving up early, all this, which is the most dreadful part of all the rest,
would be prevented. I have heard many an honest unfortunate man confess
this, and repent, even with tears, that they had not learned to despair in trade
some years sooner than they did, by which they had avoided falling into
many foul and foolish actions, which they afterwards had been driven to by
the extremity of their affairs.
FOOTNOTES:

[14]
[Whitefriars, in the neighbourhood of the Temple, London. This
and the Mint were sanctuaries for debtors.]

CHAPTER VIII
THE ORDINARY OCCASIONS OF THE RUIN OF TRADESMEN

Since I have given advice to tradesmen, when they fell into difficulties, and
find they are run behind-hand, to break in time, before they run on too far,
and thereby prevent the consequences of a fatal running on to extremity, it
is but just I should give them some needful directions, to avoid, if possible,
breaking at all.
In order to this, I will briefly inquire what are the ordinary originals of a
tradesman's ruin in business. To say it is negligence, when I have already
pressed to a close application and diligence; that it is launching into, and
grasping at, more business than their stock, or, perhaps, their
understandings, are able to manage, when I have already spoken of the fatal
consequences of over-trading; to say it is trusting carelessly people unable
to pay, and running too rashly into debt, when I have already spoken of
taking and giving too much credit—this would all be but saying the same
thing over again—and I am too full of particulars, in this important case, to
have any need of tautologies and repetitions; but there are a great many
ways by which tradesmen precipitate themselves into ruin besides those,
and some that need explaining and enlarging upon.
1. Some, especially retailers, ruin themselves by fixing their shops in such
places as are improper for their business. In most towns, but particularly in
the city of London, there are places as it were appropriated to particular
trades, and where the trades which are placed there succeed very well, but
would do very ill any where else, or any other trades in the same places; as
the orange-merchants and wet-salters about Billingsgate, and in Thames
Street; the coster-mongers at the Three Cranes; the wholesale
cheesemongers in Thames Street; the mercers and drapers in the high
streets, such as Cheapside, Ludgate Street, Cornhill, Round Court, and
Grace-church Street, &c.

Pray what would a bookseller make of his business at Billingsgate, or a
mercer in Tower Street, or near the Custom-house, or a draper in Thames
Street, or about Queen-hithe? Many trades have their peculiar streets, and
proper places for the sale of their goods, where people expect to find such
shops, and consequently, when they want such goods, they go thither for
them; as the booksellers in St Paul's churchyard, about the Exchange,
Temple, and the Strand, &c., the mercers on both sides Ludgate, in Round
Court, and Grace-church and Lombard Streets; the shoemakers in St
Martins le Grand, and Shoemaker Row; the coach-makers in Long-acre,
Queen Street, and Bishopsgate; butchers in Eastcheap; and such like.
For a tradesman to open his shop in a place unresorted to, or in a place
where his trade is not agreeable, and where it is not expected, it is no
wonder if he has no trade. What retail trade would a milliner have among
the fishmongers' shops on Fishstreet-hill, or a toyman about Queen-hithe?
When a shop is ill chosen, the tradesman starves; he is out of the way, and
business will not follow him that runs away from it: suppose a ship-
chandler should set up in Holborn, or a block-maker in Whitecross Street,
an anchor-smith at Moorgate, or a coachmaker in Redriff, and the like!
It is true, we have seen a kind of fate attend the very streets and rows where
such trades have been gathered together; and a street, famous some years
ago, shall, in a few years after, be quite forsaken; as Paternoster Row for
mercers, St Paul's Churchyard for woollen-drapers; both the Eastcheaps for
butchers; and now you see hardly any of those trades left in those places.
I mention it for this reason, and this makes it to my purpose in an
extraordinary manner, that whenever the principal shopkeepers remove
from such a street, or settled place, where the principal trade used to be, the
rest soon follow—knowing, that if the fame of the trade is not there, the
customers will not resort thither: and that a tradesman's business is to
follow wherever the trade leads. For a mercer to set up now in Paternoster
Row, or a woollen-draper in St Paul's Churchyard, the one among the
sempstresses, and the other among the chair-makers, would be the same
thing as for a country shopkeeper not to set up in or near the market-place.
[15]

The place, therefore, is to be prudently chosen by the retailer, when he first
begins his business, that he may put himself in the way of business; and
then, with God's blessing, and his own care, he may expect his share of
trade with his neighbours.
2. He must take an especial care to have his shop not so much crowded with
a large bulk of goods, as with a well-sorted and well-chosen quantity proper
for his business, and to give credit to his beginning. In order to this, his
buying part requires not only a good judgment in the wares he is to deal in,
but a perfect government of his judgment by his understanding to suit and
sort his quantities and proportions, as well to his shop as to the particular
place where his shop is situated; for example, a particular trade is not only
proper for such or such a part of the town, but a particular assortment of
goods, even in the same way, suits one part of the town, or one town and
not another; as he that sets up in the Strand, or near the Exchange, is likely
to sell more rich silks, more fine Hollands, more fine broad-cloths, more
fine toys and trinkets, than one of the same trade setting up in the skirts of
the town, or at Ratcliff, or Wapping, or Redriff; and he that sets up in the
capital city of a county, than he that is placed in a private market-town, in
the same county; and he that is placed in a market-town, than he that is
placed in a country village. A tradesman in a seaport town sorts himself
different from one of the same trade in an inland town, though larger and
more populous; and this the tradesman must weigh very maturely before he
lays out his stock.
Sometimes it happens a tradesman serves his apprenticeship in one town,
and sets up in another; and sometimes circumstances altering, he removes
from one town to another; the change is very important to him, for the
goods, which he is to sell in the town he removes to, are sometimes so
different from the sorts of goods which he sold in the place he removed
from, though in the same way of trade, that he is at a great loss both in
changing his hand, and in the judgment of buying. This made me insist, in a
former chapter, that a tradesman should take all occasions to extend his
knowledge in every kind of goods, that which way soever he may turn his
hand, he may have judgment in every thing.
In thus changing his circumstances of trade, he must learn, as well as he
can, how to furnish his shop suitable to the place he is to trade in, and to

sort his goods to the demand which he is like to have there; otherwise he
will not only lose the customers for want of proper goods, but will very
much lose by the goods which he lays in for sale, there being no demand for
them where he is going.
When merchants send adventures to our British colonies, it is usual with
them to make up to each factor what they call a sortable cargo; that is to
say, they want something of every thing that may furnish the tradesmen
there with parcels fit to fill their shops, and invite their customers; and if
they fail, and do not thus sort their cargoes, the factors there not only
complain, as being ill sorted, but the cargo lies by unsold, because there is
not a sufficient quantity of sorts to answer the demand, and make them all
marketable together.
It is the same thing here: if the tradesman's shop is not well sorted, it is not
suitably furnished, or fitted to supply his customers; and nothing dishonours
him more than to have people come to buy things usual to be had in such
shops, and go away without them. The next thing they say to one another is,
'I went to that shop, but I could not be furnished; they are not stocked there
for a trade; one seldom finds any thing there that is new or fashionable:' and
so they go away to another shop; and not only go away themselves, but
carry others away with them—for it is observable, that the buyers or retail
customers, especially the ladies, follow one another as sheep follow the
flock; and if one buys a beautiful silk, or a cheap piece of Holland, or a
new-fashioned thing of any kind, the next inquiry is, where it was bought;
and the shop is presently recommended for a shop well sorted, and for a
place where things are to be had not only cheap and good, but of the newest
fashion, and where they have always great choice to please the curious, and
to supply whatever is called for. And thus the trade runs away insensibly to
the shops which are best sorted.
3. The retail tradesman in especial, but even every tradesman in his station,
must furnish himself with a competent stock of patience; I mean, that
patience which is needful to bear with all sorts of impertinence, and the
most provoking curiosity, that it is possible to imagine the buyers, even the
worst of them, are or can be guilty of. A tradesman behind his counter must
have no flesh and blood about him, no passions, no resentment. He must
never be angry; no, not so much as seem to be so. If a customer tumbles

him five hundred pounds' worth of goods, and scarce bids money for any
thing—nay, though they really come to his shop with no intent to buy, as
many do, only to see what is to be sold, and if they cannot be better pleased
than they are at some other shop where they intend to buy, it is all one, the
tradesman must take it, and place it to the account of his calling, that it is
his business to be ill used, and resent nothing; and so must answer as
obligingly to those that give him an hour or two's trouble and buy nothing,
as he does to those who in half the time lay out ten or twenty pounds. The
case is plain: it is his business to get money, to sell and please; and if some
do give him trouble and do not buy, others make him amends, and do buy;
and as for the trouble, it is the business of his shop.
I have heard that some ladies, and those, too, persons of good note, have
taken their coaches and spent a whole afternoon in Ludgate Street or
Covent Garden, only to divert themselves in going from one mercer's shop
to another, to look upon their fine silks, and to rattle and banter the
journeymen and shopkeepers, and have not so much as the least occasion,
much less intention, to buy any thing; nay, not so much as carrying any
money out with them to buy anything if they fancied it: yet this the mercers
who understand themselves know their business too well to resent; nor if
they really knew it, would they take the least notice of it, but perhaps tell
the ladies they were welcome to look upon their goods; that it was their
business to show them; and that if they did not come to buy now, they
might perhaps see they were furnished to please them when they might
have occasion.
On the other hand, I have been told that sometimes those sorts of ladies
have been caught in their own snare; that is to say, have been so engaged by
the good usage of the shopkeeper, and so unexpectedly surprised with some
fine thing or other that has been shown them, that they have been drawn in
by their fancy against their design, to lay out money, whether they had it or
no; that is to say, to buy, and send home for money to pay for it.
But let it be how and which way it will, whether mercer or draper, or what
trade you please, the man that stands behind the counter must be all
courtesy, civility, and good manners; he must not be affronted, or any way
moved, by any manner of usage, whether owing to casualty or design; if he
sees himself ill used, he must wink, and not see it—he must at least not

appear to see it, nor any way show dislike or distaste; if he does, he
reproaches not only himself but his shop, and puts an ill name upon the
general usuage of customers in it; and it is not to be imagined how, in this
gossiping, tea-drinking age, the scandal will run, even among people who
have had no knowledge of the person first complaining. 'Such a shop!' says
a certain lady to a citizen's wife in conversation, as they were going to buy
clothes; 'I am resolved I won't go to it; the fellow that keeps it is saucy and
rude: if I lay out my money, I expect to be well used; if I don't lay it out, I
expect to be well treated.'
'Why, Madam,' says the citizen, 'did the man of the shop use your ladyship
ill?'
Lady.—No, I can't say he used me ill, for I never was in his shop.
Cit.—How does your ladyship know he does so then?
Lady.—Why, I know he used another lady saucily, because she gave him a
great deal of trouble, as he called it, and did not buy.
Cit.—Was it the lady that told you so herself, Madam?
Lady.—I don't know, really, I have forgot who it was; but I have such a
notion in my head, and I don't care to try, for I hate the sauciness of
shopkeepers when they don't understand themselves.
Cit.—Well; but, Madam, perhaps it may be a mistake—and the lady that
told you was not the person neither?
Lady.—Oh, Madam, I remember now who told me; it was my Lady Tattle,
when I was at Mrs Whymsy's on a visiting day; it was the talk of the whole
circle, and all the ladies took notice of it, and said they would take care to
shun that shop.
Cit.—Sure, Madam, the lady was strangely used; did she tell any of the
particulars?
Lady.—No; I did not understand that she told the particulars, for it seems it
was not to her, but to some other lady, a friend of hers; but it was all one;
the company took as much notice of it as if it had been to her, and resented
it as much, I assure you.

Cit.—Yet, and without examining the truth of the fact.
Lady.—We did not doubt the story.
Cit.—But had no other proof of it, Madam, than her relation?
Lady.—Why, that's true; nobody asked for a proof; it was enough to tell the
story.
Cit.—What! though perhaps the lady did not know the person, or whether it
was true or no, and perhaps had it from a third or fourth hand—your
ladyship knows any body's credit may be blasted at that rate.
Lady.—We don't inquire so nicely, you know, into the truth of stories at a
tea-table.
Cit.—No, Madam, that's true; but when reputation is at stake, we should be
a little careful too.
Lady.—Why, that's true too. But why are you so concerned about it,
Madam? do you know the man that keeps the shop?
Cit.—No otherwise, Madam, than that I have often bought there, and I
always found them the most civil, obliging people in the world.
Lady.—It may be they know you, Madam.
Cit.—I am persuaded they don't, for I seldom went but I saw new faces, for
they have a great many servants and journeymen in the shop.
Lady.—It may be you are easy to be pleased; you are good-humoured
yourself, and cannot put their patience to any trial.
Cit.—Indeed, Madam, just the contrary; I believe I made them tumble two
or three hundred pounds' worth of goods one day, and bought nothing; and
yet it was all one; they used me as well as if I had laid out twenty pounds.
Lady.—Why, so they ought.
Cit.—Yes, Madam, but then it is a token they do as they ought, and
understand themselves.

Lady.—Well, I don't know much of it indeed, but thus I was told.
Cit.—Well, but if your ladyship would know the truth of it, you would do a
piece of justice to go and try them.
Lady.—Not I; besides, I have a mercer of my acquaintance.
Cit.—Well, Madam, I'll wait on your ladyship to your own mercer, and if
you can't find any thing to your liking, will you go and try the other shop?
Lady.—Oh! I am sure I shall deal if I go to my mercer.
Cit.—Well, but if you should, let us go for a frolic, and give the other as
much trouble as we can for nothing, and see how he'll behave, for I want to
be satisfied; if I find them as your ladyship has been told, I'll never go there
any more.
Lady.—Upon that condition I agree—I will go with you; but I will go and
lay out my money at my own mercer's first, because I wont be tempted.
Cit.—Well, Madam, I'll wait on your ladyship till you have laid out your
money.
After this discourse they drove away to the mercer's shop where the lady
used to buy; and when they came there, the lady was surprised—the shop
was shut up, and nobody to be seen. The next door was a laceman's, and the
journeyman being at the door, the lady sent her servant to desire him to
speak a word or two to her; and when he came, says the lady to him,
Pray, how long has Mr—'s shop been shut up?
Laceman.—About a month, madam.
Lady.—What! is Mr—dead?
Laceman.—No, madam, he is not dead.
Lady.—What then, pray?
Laceman.—Something worse, madam; he has had some misfortunes.

Lady.—I am very sorry to hear it, indeed. So her ladyship made her bow,
and her coachman drove away.
The short of the story was, her mercer was broke; upon which the city lady
prevailed upon her ladyship to go to the other shop, which she did, but
declared beforehand she would buy nothing, but give the mercer all the
trouble she could; and so said the other. And to make the thing more sure,
she would have them go into the shop single, because she fancied the
mercer knew the city lady, and therefore would behave more civilly to them
both on that account, the other having laid out her money there several
times. Well, they went in, and the lady asked for such and such rich things,
and had them shown her, to a variety that she was surprised at; but not the
best or richest things they could show her gave her any satisfaction—either
she did not like the pattern, or the colours did not suit her fancy, or they
were too dear; and so she prepares to leave the shop, her coach standing at a
distance, which she ordered, that they might not guess at her quality.
But she was quite deceived in her expectation; for the mercer, far from
treating her in the manner as she had heard, used her with the utmost
civility and good manners. She treated him, on the contrary, as she said
herself, even with a forced rudeness; she gave him all the impertinent
trouble she was able, as above; and, pretending to like nothing he showed,
turned away with an air of contempt, intimating that his shop was ill
furnished, and that she should be easily served, she doubted not, at another.
He told her he was very unhappy in not having any thing that suited her
fancy—that, if she knew what particular things would please her, he would
have them in two hours' time for her, if all the French and Italian merchants'
warehouses in London, or all the weavers' looms in Spitalfields, could
furnish them. But when that would not do, she comes forward from his back
shop, where she had plagued him about an hour and a half; and makes him
the slight compliment of (in a kind of a scornful tone too), 'I am sorry I have
given you so much trouble.'
'The trouble, madam, is nothing; it is my misfortune not to please you; but,
as to trouble, my business is to oblige the ladies, my customers; if I show
my goods, I may sell them; if I do not show them, I cannot; if it is not a
trouble to you, I'll show you every piece of goods in my shop; if you do not

buy now, you may perhaps buy another time.' And thus, in short, he pursued
her with all the good words in the world, and waited on her towards the
door.
As she comes forward, there she spied the city lady, who had just used the
partner as the lady had used the chief master; and there, as if it had been by
mere chance, she salutes her with, 'Your servant, cousin; pray, what brought
you here?' The cousin answers, 'Madam, I am mighty glad to see your
ladyship here; I have been haggling here a good while, but this gentleman
and I cannot bargain, and I was just going away.'
'Why, then,' says the lady, 'you have been just such another customer as I,
for I have troubled the gentleman mercer this two hours, and I cannot meet
with any thing to my mind.' So away they go together to the door; and the
lady gets the mercer to send one of his servants to bid her coachman drive
to the door, showing him where the fellow stood.
While the boy was gone, she takes the city lady aside, and talking softly, the
mercer and his partner, seeing them talk together, withdrew, but waited at a
distance to be ready to hand them to the coach. So they began a new
discourse, as follows:—
Lady.—Well, I am satisfied this man has been ill used in the world.
Cit.—Why, Madam, how does your ladyship find him?
Lady.—Only the most obliging, most gentleman-like man of a tradesman
that ever I met with in my life.
Cit.—But did your ladyship try him as you said you would?
Lady.—Try him! I believe he has tumbled three thousand pounds' worth of
goods for me.
Cit.—Did you oblige him to do so?
Lady.—I forced him to it, indeed, for I liked nothing.
Cit.—Is he well stocked with goods?
Lady.—I told him his shop was ill furnished.

Cit.—What did he say to that?
Lady.—Say! why he carried me into another inner shop, or warehouse,
where he had goods to a surprising quantity and value, I confess.
Cit.—And what could you say, then?
Lady.—Say! in truth I was ashamed to say any more, but still was resolved
not to be pleased, and so came away, as you see.
Cit.—And he has not disobliged you at all, has he?
Lady.—Just the contrary, indeed. (Here she repeated the words the mercer
had said to her, and the modesty and civility he had treated her with.)
Cit.—Well, Madam, I assure you I have been faithful to my promise, for
you cannot have used him so ill as I have used his partner—for I have
perfectly abused him for having nothing to please me—I did as good as tell
him I believed he was going to break, and that he had no choice.
Lady.—And how did he treat you?
Cit.—Just in the same manner as his partner did your ladyship, all mild and
mannerly, smiling, and in perfect temper; for my part, if I was a young
wench again, I should be in love with such a man.
Lady.—Well, but what shall we do now?
Cit.—Why, be gone. I think we have teazed them enough; it would be cruel
to bear-bait them any more.
Lady.—No, I am not for teazing them any more; but shall we really go
away, and buy nothing?
Cit.—Nay, that shall be just as your ladyship pleases—you know I
promised you I would not buy; that is to say, unless you discharge me of
that obligation.
Lady.—I cannot, for shame, go out of this shop, and lay out nothing.
Cit.—Did your ladyship see any thing that pleased you?

Lady.—I only saw some of the finest things in England—I don't think all
the city of Paris can outdo him.
Cit.—Well, madam, if you resolve to buy, let us go and look again.
Lady.—'Come, then.' And upon that the lady, turning to the mercer—'Come,
sir,' says she, 'I think I will look upon that piece of brocade again; I cannot
find in my heart to give you all this trouble for nothing.'
'Madam,' says the mercer, 'I shall be very glad if I can be so happy as to
please you; but, I beseech your ladyship, don't speak of the trouble, for that
is the duty of our trade; we must never think our business a trouble.'
Upon this the ladies went back with him into his inner shop, and laid out
between sixty and seventy pounds, for they both bought rich suits of
clothes, and used his shop for many years after.
The short inference from this long discourse is this: That here you see, and I
could give many examples very like this, how, and in what manner, a
shopkeeper is to behave himself in the way of his business—what
impertinences, what taunts, flouts, and ridiculous things, he must bear in his
business, and must not show the least return, or the least signal of disgust—
he must have no passions, no fire in his temper—he must be all soft and
smooth: nay, if his real temper be naturally fiery and hot, he must show
none of it in his shop—he must be a perfect complete hypocrite, if he will
be a complete tradesman.[16]
It is true, natural tempers are not to be always counterfeited—the man
cannot easily be a lamb in his shop, and a lion in himself; but let it be easy
or hard, it must be done, and it is done. There are men who have, by custom
and usage, brought themselves to it, that nothing could be meeker and
milder than they, when behind the counter, and yet nothing be more furious
and raging in every other part of life—nay, the provocations they have met
with in their shops have so irritated their rage, that they would go upstairs
from their shop, and fall into phrensies, and a kind of madness, and beat
their heads against the wall, and mischief themselves, if not prevented, till
the violence of it had gotten vent, and the passions abate and cool. Nay, I
heard once of a shopkeeper that behaved himself thus to such an extreme,
that, when he was provoked by the impertinence of the customers, beyond

what his temper could bear, he would go upstairs and beat his wife, kick his
children about like dogs, and be as furious for two or three minutes as a
man chained down in Bedlam, and when the heat was over, would sit down
and cry faster then the children he had abused; and after the fit was over he
would go down into his shop again, and be as humble, as courteous, and as
calm as any man whatever—so absolute a government of his passions had
he in the shop, and so little out of it; in the shop a soul-less animal that can
resent nothing, and in the family a madman; in the shop meek like the lamb,
but in the family outrageous like a Lybian lion.
The sum of the matter is this: it is necessary for a tradesman to subject
himself, by all the ways possible, to his business; his customers are to be his
idols: so far as he may worship idols by allowance, he is to bow down to
them and worship them;[17] at least, he is not any way to displease them, or
show any disgust or distaste at any thing they say or do. The bottom of it all
is, that he is intending to get money by them; and it is not for him that gets
money by them to offer the least inconvenience to them by whom he gets it;
but he is to consider, that, as Solomon says, 'The borrower is servant to the
lender,' so the seller is servant to the buyer.
When a tradesman has thus conquered all his passions, and can stand before
the storm of impertinence, he is said to be fitted up for the main article,
namely, the inside of the counter.
On the other hand, we see that the contrary temper, nay, but the very
suggestion of it, hurries people on to ruin their trade, to disoblige the
customers, to quarrel with them, and drive them away. We see by the lady
above, after having seen the ways she had taken to put this man out of
temper—I say, we see it conquered her temper, and brought her to lay out
her money cheerfully, and be his customer ever after.
A sour, morose, dogmatic temper would have sent these ladies both away
with their money in their pockets; but the man's patience and temper drove
the lady back to lay out her money, and engaged her entirely.
FOOTNOTES:
[15]

Paternoster Row has long been the chief seat of the bookselling
and publishing trade in London; and there are now some splendid
shops of mercers or haberdashers in St Paul's Churchyard, also in
Ludgate hill adjoining.

[16]
[The necessity here insisted on seems a hard one, and scarcely
consistent with a just morality. Yet, if the tradesman takes a right
view of his situation, he will scarcely doubt the propriety of
Defoe's advice. He must consider, that, in his shop, he is, as it
were, acting a part. He performs a certain character in the drama
of our social arrangements, one which requires all the civility and
forbearance above insisted on. He is not called upon, in such
circumstances, to feel, speak, and act, as he would find himself in
honour required to do in his private or absolutely personal
capacity—in his own house, for instance, or in any public place
where he mingled on a footing of equality with his fellow-
citizens. Accordingly, there is such a general sense of the
justifiableness of his conducting himself in this submissive spirit,
that no one would think of imputing it to him as a fault; but he
would be more apt to be censured or ridiculed if he had so little
sense as to take offence, in his capacity of tradesman, at any thing
which it would only concern him to resent if it were offered to
him in his capacity as a private citizen.
An incident, somewhat like that so dramatically related by Defoe,
occurred a few years ago in the northern capital. A lady had,
through whim, pestered a mercer in the manner related in the text,
turning over all his goods, and only treating him with rudeness in
return. When she finally turned to leave the shop, to inquire, as
she said, for better and cheaper goods elsewhere, she found that a
shower was falling, against which she had no protection. The
tradesman, who had politely shown her to the door, observing her
hesitate on the threshold at sight of the rain, requested her to wait
a moment, and, stepping backwards for his umbrella, instantly
returned, and, in the kindest accents, requested her to accept the
loan of it. She took it, and went away, but in a few minutes

returned it, in a totally different frame of spirit, and not only
purchased extensively on this occasion, but became a constant
customer for the future.
Another tradesman in the same city was so remarkable for his
imperturbable civility, that it became the subject of a bet—an
individual undertaking to irritate him, or, if he failed, to forfeit a
certain sum. He went to the shop, and caused an immense
quantity of the finest silks to be turned over, after which he coolly
asked for a pennyworth of a certain splendid piece of satin. 'By all
means,' said the discreet trader; 'allow me, Sir, to have your
penny.' The coin was handed to him, and, taking up the piece of
satin, and placing the penny on the end of it, he cut round with his
scissors, thus detaching a little bit of exactly the size and shape of
the piece of money which was to purchase it. This, with the most
polite air imaginable, he handed to his customer, whose confusion
may be imagined.]

[17]
[It appears to the editor that the case is here somewhat over-
stated. While imperterbable good temper and civility are
indispensible in the shopkeeper, it is not impossible that he may
also err in displaying a too great obsequiousness of manner. This,
by disgusting the common sense and good taste of customers,
may do as much harm as want of civility. A too pressing manner,
likewise, does harm, by causing the customer to feel as if he were
obliged to purchase. The medium of an easy, obliging, and good-
humoured manner, is perhaps what suits best. But here, as in
many other things, it is not easy to lay down any general rule.
Much must be left to the goos sense and tact of the trader.]

CHAPTER IX
OF OTHER REASONS FOR THE TRADESMAN'S DISASTERS: AND,
FIRST, OF INNOCENT DIVERSIONS

A few directions seasonably given, and wisely received, will be sufficient to
guide a tradesman in a right management of his business, so as that, if he
observes them, he may secure his prosperity and success: but it requires a
long and serious caveat to warn him of the dangers he meets with in his
way. Trade is a straight and direct way, if they will but keep in it with a
steady foot, and not wander, and launch out here and there, as a loose head
and giddy fancy will prompt them to do.
The road, I say, is straight and direct; but there are many turnings and
openings in it, both to the right hand and to the left, in which, if a tradesman
but once ventures to step awry, it is ten thousand to one but he loses
himself, and very rarely finds his way back again; at least if he does, it is
like a man that has been lost in a wood; he comes out with a scratched face,
and torn clothes, tired and spent, and does not recover himself in a long
while after.
In a word, one steady motion carries him up, but many things assist to pull
him down; there are many ways open to his ruin, but few to his rising: and
though employment is said to be the best fence against temptations, and he
that is busy heartily in his business, temptations to idleness and negligence
will not be so busy about him, yet tradesmen are as often drawn from their
business as other men; and when they are so, it is more fatal to them a great
deal, than it is to gentlemen and persons whose employments do not call for
their personal attendance so much as a shop does.
Among the many turnings and bye-lanes, which, as I say, are to be met with
in the straight road of trade, there are two as dangerous and fatal to their
prosperity as the worst, though they both carry an appearance of good, and
promise contrary to what they perform; these are—

I. Pleasures and diversions, especially such as they will have us call
innocent diversions.
II. Projects and adventures, and especially such as promise mountains of
profit in nubibus [in the clouds], and are therefore the more likely to
ensnare the poor eager avaricious tradesman.
1. I am now to speak of the first, namely, pleasures and diversions. I cannot
allow any pleasures to be innocent, when they turn away either the body or
the mind of a tradesman from the one needful thing which his calling makes
necessary, and that necessity makes his duty—I mean, the application both
of his hands and head to his business. Those pleasures and diversions may
be innocent in themselves, which are not so to him: there are very few
things in the world that are simply evil, but things are made circumstantially
evil when they are not so in themselves: killing a man is not simply sinful;
on the contrary, it is not lawful only, but a duty, when justice and the laws
of God or man require it; but when done maliciously, from any corrupt
principle, or to any corrupted end, is murder, and the worst of crimes.
Pleasures and diversions are thus made criminal, when a man is engaged in
duty to a full attendance upon such business as those pleasures and
diversions necessarily interfere with and interrupt; those pleasures, though
innocent in themselves, become a fault in him, because his legal avocations
demand his attendance in another place. Thus those pleasures may be lawful
to another man, which are not so to him, because another man has not the
same obligation to a calling, the same necessity to apply to it, the same cry
of a family, whose bread may depend upon his diligence, as a tradesman
has.
Solomon, the royal patron of industry, tells us, 'He that is a lover of
pleasure, shall be a poor man.' I must not doubt but Solomon is to be
understood of tradesmen and working men, such as I am writing of, whose
time and application is due to their business, and who, in pursuit of their
pleasures, are sure to neglect their shops, or employments, and I therefore
render the words thus, to the present purpose—'The tradesman that is a
lover of pleasure, shall be a poor man.' I hope I do not wrest the Scripture in
my interpretation of it; I am sure it agrees with the whole tenor of the wise
man's other discourses.

When I see young shopkeepers keep horses, ride a-hunting, learn dog-
language, and keep the sportsmen's brogue upon their tongues, I will not
say I read their destiny, for I am no fortuneteller, but I do say, I am always
afraid for them; especially when I know that either their fortunes and
beginnings are below it, or that their trades are such as in a particular
manner to require their constant attendance. As to see a barber abroad on a
Saturday, a corn-factor abroad on a Wednesday and Friday, or a Blackwell-
hall man on a Thursday, you may as well say a country shopkeeper should
go a-hunting on a market-day, or go a-feasting at the fair day of the town
where he lives; and yet riding and hunting are otherwise lawful diversions,
and in their kind very good for exercise and health.
I am not for making a galley-slave of a shopkeeper, and have him chained
down to the oar; but if he be a wise, a prudent, and a diligent tradesman, he
will allow himself as few excursions as possible.
Business neglected is business lost; it is true, there are some businesses
which require less attendance than others, and give a man less occasion of
application; but, in general, that tradesman who can satisfy himself to be
absent from his business, must not expect success; if he is above the
character of a diligent tradesman, he must then be above the business too,
and should leave it to somebody, that, having more need of it, will think it
worth his while to mind it better.
Nor, indeed, is it possible a tradesman should be master of any of the
qualifications which I have set down to denominate him complete, if he
neglects his shop and his time, following his pleasures and diversions.
I will allow that the man is not vicious and wicked, that he is not addicted to
drunkenness, to women, to gaming, or any such things as those, for those
are not woundings, but murder, downright killing. A man may wound and
hurt himself sometimes, in the rage of an ungoverned passion, or in a
phrensy or fever, and intend no more; but if he shoots himself through the
head, or hangs himself, we are sure then he intended to kill and destroy
himself, and he dies inevitably.
For a tradesman to follow his pleasures, which indeed is generally attended
with a slighting of his business, leaving his shop to servants or others, it is
evident to me that he is indifferent whether it thrives or no; and, above all, it

is evident that his heart is not in his business; that he does not delight in it,
or look on it with pleasure. To a complete tradesman there is no pleasure
equal to that of being in his business, no delight equal to that of seeing
himself thrive, to see trade flow in upon him, and to be satisfied that he
goes on prosperously. He will never thrive, that cares not whether he thrives
or no. As trade is the chief employment of his life, and is therefore called,
by way of eminence, his business, so it should be made the chief delight of
his life. The tradesman that does not love his business, will never give it due
attendance.
Pleasure is a bait to the mind, and the mind will attract the body: where the
heart is, the object shall always have the body's company. The great
objection I meet with from young tradesmen against this argument is, they
follow no unlawful pleasures; they do not spend their time in taverns, and
drinking to excess; they do not spend their money in gaming, and so stock-
starve their business, and rob the shop to supply the extravagant losses of
play; or they do not spend their hours in ill company and debaucheries; all
they do, is a little innocent diversion in riding abroad now and then for the
air, and for their health, and to ease their thoughts of the throng of other
affairs which are heavy upon them, &c.
These, I say, are the excuses of young tradesmen; and, indeed, they are
young excuses, and, I may say truly, have nothing in them. It is perhaps
true, or I may grant it so for the present purpose, that the pleasure the
tradesman takes is, as he says, not unlawful, and that he follows only a little
innocent diversion; but let me tell him, the words are ill put together, and
the diversion is rather recommended from the word little, than from the
word innocent: if it be, indeed, but little, it may be innocent; but the case is
quite altered by the extent of the thing; and the innocence lies here, not in
the nature of the thing, not in the diversion or pleasure that is taken, but in
the time it takes; for if the man spends the time in it which should be spent
in his shop or warehouse, and his business suffers by his absence, as it must
do, if the absence is long at a time, or often practised—the diversion so
taken becomes criminal to him, though the same diversion might be
innocent in another.
Thus I have heard a young tradesman, who loved his bottle, excuse himself,
and say, 'It is true, I have been at the tavern, but I was treated, it cost me

nothing.' And this, he thinks, clears him of all blame; not considering that
when he spends no money, yet he spends five times the value of the money
in time. Another says, 'Why, indeed, I was at the tavern yesterday all the
afternoon, but I could not help it, and I spent but sixpence.' But at the same
time perhaps it might be said he spent five pounds' worth of time, his
business being neglected, his shop unattended, his books not posted, his
letters not written, and the like—for all those things are works necessary to
a tradesman, as well as the attendance on his shop, and infinitely above the
pleasure of being treated at the expense of his time. All manner of pleasures
should buckle and be subservient to business: he that makes his pleasure be
his business, will never make his business be a pleasure. Innocent pleasures
become sinful, when they are used to excess, and so it is here; the most
innocent diversion becomes criminal, when it breaks in upon that which is
the due and just employment of the man's life. Pleasures rob the tradesman,
and how, then, can he call them innocent diversions? They are downright
thieves; they rob his shop of his attendance, and of the time which he ought
to bestow there; they rob his family of their due support, by the man's
neglecting that business by which they are to be supported and maintained;
and they oftentimes rob the creditors of their just debts, the tradesman
sinking by the inordinate use of those innocent diversions, as he calls them,
as well by the expense attending them, as the loss of his time, and neglect of
his business, by which he is at last reduced to the necessity of shutting up
shop in earnest, which was indeed as good as shut before. A shop without a
master is like the same shop on a middling holiday, half shut up, and he that
keeps it long so, need not doubt but he may in a little time more shut it quite
up.
In short, pleasure is a thief to business; how any man can call it innocent, let
him answer that does so; it robs him every way, as I have said above: and if
the tradesman be a Christian, and has any regard to religion and his duty, I
must tell him, that when upon his disasters he shall reflect, and see that he
has ruined himself and his family, by following too much those diversions
and pleasures which he thought innocent, and which perhaps in themselves
were really so, he will find great cause to repent of that which he insisted on
as innocent; he will find himself lost, by doing lawful things, and that he
made those innocent things sinful, and those lawful things unlawful to him.
Thus, as they robbed his family and creditors before of their just debts—for

maintenance is a tradesman's just debt to his family, and a wife and children
are as much a tradesman's real creditors as those who trusted him with their
goods—I say, as his innocent pleasures robbed his family and creditors
before, they will rob him now of his peace, and of all that calm of soul
which an honest, industrious, though unfortunate, tradesman meets with
under his disasters.
I am asked here, perhaps, how much pleasure an honest-meaning tradesman
may be allowed to take? for it cannot be supposed I should insist that all
pleasure is forbidden him, that he must have no diversion, no spare hours,
no intervals from hurry and fatigue; that would be to pin him down to the
very floor of his shop, as John Sheppard was locked down to the floor of his
prison.
The answer to this question every prudent tradesman may make for himself:
if his pleasure is in his shop, and in his business, there is no danger of him;
but if he has an itch after exotic diversions—I mean such as are foreign to
his shop, and to his business, and which I therefore call exotic—let him
honestly and fairly state the case between his shop and his diversions, and
judge impartially for himself. So much pleasure, and no more, may be
innocently taken, as does not interfere with, or do the least damage to his
business, by taking him away from it.
Every moment that his trade wants him in his shop or warehouse, it is his
duty to be there; it is not enough to say, I believe I shall not be wanted; or I
believe I shall suffer no loss by my absence. He must come to a point and
not deceive himself; if he does, the cheat is all his own. If he will not judge
sincerely at first, he will reproach himself sincerely at last; for there is no
fraud against his own reflections: a man is very rarely a hypocrite to
himself.
The rule may be, in a few words, thus: those pleasures or diversions, and
those only, can be innocent, which the man may or does use, or allow
himself to use, without hindrance of, or injury to, his business and
reputation.
Let the diversions or pleasures in question be what they will, and how
innocent soever they are in themselves, they are not so to him, because they
interrupt or interfere with his business, which is his immediate duty. I have

mentioned the circumstance which touches this part too, namely, that there
may be a time when even the needful duties of religion may become faults,
and unseasonable, when another more needful attendance calls for us to
apply to it; much more, then, those things which are only barely lawful.
There is a visible difference between the things which we may do, and the
things which we must do. Pleasures at certain seasons are allowed, and we
may give ourselves some loose to them; but business, I mean to the man of
business, is that needful thing, of which it is not to be said it may, but it
must be done.
Again, those pleasures which may not only be lawful in themselves, but
which may be lawful to other men, yet are criminal and unlawful to him. To
gentlemen of fortunes and estates, who being born to large possessions, and
have no avocations of this kind, it is certainly lawful to spend their spare
hours on horseback, with their hounds or hawks, pursuing their game; or, on
foot, with their gun and their net, and their dogs to kill the hares or birds,
&c.—all which we call sport. These are the men that can, with a particular
satisfaction, when they come home, say they have only taken an innocent
diversion; and yet even in these, there are not wanting some excesses which
take away the innocence of them, and consequently the satisfaction in their
reflection, and therefore it was I said it was lawful to them to spend their
spare hours—by which I am to be understood, those hours which are not
due to more solemn and weighty occasions, such as the duties of religion in
particular. But as this is not my present subject, I proceed; for I am not
talking to gentlemen now, but to tradesmen.
The prudent tradesman will, in time, consider what he ought or ought not to
do, in his own particular case, as to his pleasures—not what another man
may or may not do. In short, nothing of pleasure or diversion can be
innocent to him, whatever it may be to another, if it injures his business, if it
takes either his time, or his mind, or his delight, or his attendance, from his
business; nor can all the little excuses, of its being for his health, and for the
needful unbending the bow of the mind, from the constant application of
business, for all these must stoop to the great article of his shop and
business; though I might add, that the bare taking the air for health, and for
a recess to the mind, is not the thing I am talking of—it is the taking an
immoderate liberty, and spending an immoderate length of time, and that at
unseasonable and improper hours, so as to make his pleasures and

diversions be prejudicial to his business—this is the evil I object to, and this
is too much the ruin of the tradesmen of this age; and thus any man who
calmly reads these papers will see I ought to be understood.
Nor do I confine this discourse to the innocent diversions of a horse, and
riding abroad to take the air; things which, as above, are made hurtful and
unlawful to him, only as they are hindrances to his business, and are more
or less so, as they rob his shop or warehouse, or business, or his attendance
and time, and cause him to draw his affections off from his calling.
But we see other and new pleasures daily crowding in upon the tradesman,
and some which no age before this have been in danger of—I mean, not to
such an excess as is now the case, and consequently there were fewer
tradesmen drawn into the practice.
The present age is a time of gallantry and gaiety; nothing of the present
pride and vanity was known, or but very little of it, in former times: the
baits which are every where laid for the corruption of youth, and for the
ruin of their fortunes, were never so many and so mischievous as they are
now.
We scarce now see a tradesman's apprentice come to his fifth year, but he
gets a long wig and a sword, and a set of companions suitable; and this wig
and sword, being left at proper and convenient places, are put on at night
after the shop is shut, or when they can slip out to go a-raking in, and when
they never fail of company ready to lead them into all manner of
wickedness and debauchery; and from this cause it is principally that so
many apprentices are ruined, and run away from their masters before they
come out of their times—more, I am persuaded, now, than ever were to be
found before.
Nor, as I said before, will I charge the devil with having any hand in the
ruin of these young fellows—indeed, he needs not trouble himself about
them, they are his own by early choice—they anticipate temptation, and are
as forward as the devil can desire them to be. These may be truly said to be
drawn aside of their own lusts, and enticed—they need no tempter.
But of these I may also say, they seldom trouble the tradesmen's class; they
get ruined early, and finish the tradesman before they begin, so my

discourse is not at present directed much to them; indeed, they are past
advice before they come in my way.
Indeed, I knew one of these sort of gentlemen-apprentices make an attempt
to begin, and set up his trade—he was a dealer in what they call Crooked-
lane wares: he got about £300 from his father, an honest plain countryman,
to set him up, and his said honest father exerted himself to the utmost to
send him up so much money.
When he had gotten the money, he took a shop near the place where he had
served his time, and entering upon the shop, he had it painted, and fitted up,
and some goods he bought in order to furnish it; but before that, he was
obliged to pay about £70 of the money to little debts, which he had
contracted in his apprenticeship, at two or three ale-houses, for drink and
eatables, treats, and junketings; and at the barber's for long perukes, at the
sempstress's for fine Holland-shirts, turn-overs, white gloves, &c, to make a
beau of him, and at several other places.
When he came to dip into this, and found that it wanted still £30 or £40 to
equip him for the company which he had learned to keep, he took care to do
this first; and being delighted with his new dress, and how like a gentleman
he looked, he was resolved, before he opened a shop, to take his swing a
little in the town; so away he went, with two of his neighbour's apprentices,
to the play-house, thence to the tavern, not far from his dwelling, and there
they fell to cards, and sat up all night—and thus they spent about a
fortnight; the rest just creeping into their masters' houses, by the connivance
of their fellow-servants, and he getting a bed in the tavern, where what he
spent, to be sure, made them willing enough to oblige him—that is to say, to
encourage him to ruin himself.
They then changed their course, indeed, and went to the ball, and that
necessarily kept them out the most part of the night, always having their
supper dressed at the tavern at their return; and thus, in a few words, he
went on till he made way through all the remaining money he had left, and
was obliged to call his creditors together, and break before he so much as
opened his shop—I say, his creditors, for great part of the goods which he
had furnished his shop with were unpaid for; perhaps some few might be
bought with ready money.

This man, indeed, is the only tradesman that ever I met with, that set up and
broke before his shop was open; others I have indeed known make very
quick work of it.
But this part rather belongs to another head. I am at present not talking of
madmen, as I hope, indeed, I am not writing to madmen, but I am talking of
tradesmen undone by lawful things, by what they call innocent and
harmless things—such as riding abroad, or walking abroad to take the air,
and to divert themselves, dogs, gun, country-sport, and city-recreation.
These things are certainly lawful, and in themselves very innocent; nay,
they may be needful for health, and to give some relaxation to the mind,
hurried with too much business; but the needfulness of them is so much
made an excuse, and the excess of them is so injurious to the tradesman's
business and to his time, which should be set apart for his shop and his
trade, that there are not a few tradesmen thus lawfully ruined, as I may call
it—in a word, lawful or unlawful, their shop is neglected, their business
goes behind-hand, and it is all one to the subject of breaking, and to the
creditor, whether the man was undone by being a knave, or by being a fool;
it is all one whether he lost his trade by scandalous immoral negligence, or
by sober or religious negligence.
In a word, business languishes, while the tradesman is absent, and neglects
it, be it for his health or for his pleasure, be it in good company or in bad, be
it from a good or an ill design; and if the business languishes, the tradesman
will not be long before he languishes too; for nothing can support the
tradesman but his supporting his trade by a due attendance and application.
[18]

FOOTNOTES:
[18]
[In the above admirable series of plain-spoken advices, the author
has omitted one weighty reason why young tradesmen should not
spend their evenings in frivolous, or otherwise improper
company. The actual loss of time and of money incurred by such
courses of conduct, is generally of less consequence than the
losses arising from habitual distraction of mind, and the
acquisition of an acquaintanceship with a set of idle or silly

companions. It is of the utmost importance that young tradesmen
should spend their leisure hours in a way calculated to soothe the
feelings, and enlarge the mind; and in the present day, from the
prevalance of literature, and other rational means for amusement,
they have ample opportunities of doing so.]

CHAPTER X
OF EXTRAVAGANT AND EXPENSIVE LIVING; ANOTHER STEP TO
A TRADESMAN'S DISASTER

Hitherto I have written of tradesmen ruined by lawful and innocent
diversions; and, indeed, these are some of the most dangerous pits for a
tradesman to fall into, because men are so apt to be insensible of the danger:
a ship may as well be lost in a calm smooth sea, and an easy fair gale of
wind, as in a storm, if they have no pilot, or the pilot be ignorant or unwary;
and disasters of that nature happen as frequently as any others, and are as
fatal. When rocks are apparent, and the pilot, bold and wilful, runs directly
upon them, without fear or wit, we know the fate of the ship—it must
perish, and all that are in it will inevitably be lost; but in a smooth sea, a
bold shore, an easy gale, the unseen rocks or shoals are the only dangers,
and nothing can hazard them but the skilfulness of the pilot: and thus it is in
trade. Open debaucheries and extravagances, and a profusion of expense, as
well as a general contempt of business, these are open and current roads to a
tradesman's destruction; but a silent going on, in pursuit of innocent
pleasures, a smooth and calm, but sure neglect of his shop, and time, and
business, will as effectually and as surely ruin the tradesman as the other;
and though the means are not so scandalous, the effect is as certain. But I
proceed to the other.
Next to immoderate pleasures, the tradesman ought to be warned against
immoderate expense. This is a terrible article, and more particularly so to
the tradesman, as custom has now, as it were on purpose for their undoing,
introduced a general habit of, and as it were a general inclination among all
sorts of people to, an expensive way of living; to which might be added a
kind of necessity of it; for that even with the greatest prudence and frugality
a man cannot now support a family with the ordinary expense, which the
same family might have been maintained with some few years ago: there is
now (1) a weight of taxes upon almost all the necessaries of life, bread and

flesh excepted, as coals, salt, malt, candles, soap, leather, hops, wine, fruit,
and all foreign consumptions; (2) a load of pride upon the temper of the
nation, which, in spite of taxes and the unusual dearess of every thing, yet
prompts people to a profusion in their expenses.
This is not so properly called a tax upon the tradesmen; I think rather, it
may be called a plague upon them: for there is, first, the dearness of every
necessary thing to make living expensive; and secondly, an unconquerable
aversion to any restraint; so that the poor will be like the rich, and the rich
like the great, and the great like the greatest—and thus the world runs on to
a kind of distraction at this time: where it will end, time must discover.
Now, the tradesman I speak of, if he will thrive, he must resolve to begin as
he can go on; and if he does so, in a word, he must resolve to live more
under restraint than ever tradesmen of his class used to do; for every
necessary thing being, as I have said, grown dearer than before, he must
entirely omit all the enjoyment of the unnecessaries which he might have
allowed himself before, or perhaps be obliged to an expense beyond the
income of his trade: and in either of these cases he has a great hardship
upon him.
When I talk of immoderate expenses, I must be understood not yet to mean
the extravagances of wickedness and debaucheries; there are so many sober
extravagances, and so many grave sedate ways for a tradesman's ruin, and
they are so much more dangerous than those hair-brained desperate ways of
gaming and debauchery, that I think it is the best service I can do the
tradesmen to lay before them those sunk rocks (as the seamen call them),
those secret dangers in the first place, that they may know how to avoid
them; and as for the other common ways, common discretion will supply
them with caution for those, and their senses will be their protection.
The dangers to the tradesmen whom I am directing myself to, are from
lawful things, and such as before are called innocent; for I am speaking to
the sober part of tradesmen, who yet are often ruined and overthrown in
trade; and perhaps as many such miscarry, as of the mad and extravagant,
particularly because their number far exceeds them. Expensive living is a
kind of slow fever; it is not so open, so threatening and dangerous, as the
ordinary distemper which goes by that name, but it preys upon the spirits,

and, when its degrees are increased to a height, is as fatal and as sure to kill
as the other: it is a secret enemy, that feeds upon the vitals; and when it has
gone its full length, and the languishing tradesman is weakened in his solid
part, I mean his stock, then it overwhelms him at once.
Expensive living feeds upon the life and blood of the tradesman, for it eats
into the two most essential branches of his trade, namely, his credit and his
cash; the first is its triumph, and the last is its food: nothing goes out to
cherish the exorbitance, but the immediate money; expenses seldom go on
trust, they are generally supplied and supported with ready money,
whatever are not.
This expensive way of living consists in several things, which are all indeed
in their degree ruinous to the tradesman; such as
1. Expensive house-keeping, or family extravagance.
2. Expensive dressing, or the extravagance of fine
clothes.
3. Expensive company, or keeping company above
himself.
4. Expensive equipages, making a show and ostentation
of figure in the world.
I might take them all in bulk, and say, what has a young tradesman to do
with these? and yet where is there a tradesman now to be found, who is not
more or less guilty? It is, as I have said, the general vice of the times; the
whole nation are more or less in the crime; what with necessity and
inclination, where is the man or the family that lives as such families used
to live?
In short, good husbandry and frugality is quite out of fashion, and he that
goes about to set up for the practice of it, must mortify every thing about
him that has the least tincture of frugality; it is the mode to live high, to
spend more than we get, to neglect trade, contemn care and concern, and go
on without forecast, or without consideration; and, in consequence, it is the
mode to go on to extremity, to break, become bankrupt and beggars, and so

going off the trading stage, leave it open for others to come after us, and do
the same.[19]
To begin with house-keeping. I have already hinted, that every thing
belonging to the family subsistence bears a higher price than usual, I may
say, than ever; at the same time I can neither undertake to prove that there is
more got by selling, or more ways to get it, I mean to a tradesman, than
there was formerly; the consequence then must be, that the tradesmen do
not grow rich faster than formerly; at least we may venture to say this of
tradesmen and their families, comparing them with former times, namely,
that there is not more got, and I am satisfied there is less laid up, than was
then; or, if you will have it, that tradesmen get less and spend more than
they ever did. How they should be richer than they were in those times, is
very hard to say.
That all things are dearer than formerly to a house-keeper, needs little
demonstration; the taxes necessarily infer it from the weight of them, and
the many things charged; for, besides the things enumerated above, we find
all articles of foreign importation are increased by the high duties laid on
them; such as linen, especially fine linen; silk, especially foreign wrought
silk: every thing eatable, drinkable, and wearable, are made heavy to us by
high and exorbitant customs and excises, as brandies, tobacco, sugar; deals
and timber for building; oil, wine, spice, raw silks, calico, chocolate, coffee,
tea; on some of these the duties are more than doubled: and yet that which
is most observable is, that such is the expensive humour of the times, that
not a family, no, hardly of the meanest tradesman, but treat their friends
with wine, or punch, or fine ale; and have their parlours set off with the tea-
table and the chocolate-pot—treats and liquors all exotic, foreign and new
among tradesmen, and terrible articles in their modern expenses; which
have nothing to be said for them, either as to the expense of them, or the
helps to health which they boast of: on the contrary, they procure us
rheumatic bodies and consumptive purses, and can no way pass with me for
necessaries; but being needless, they add to the expense, by sending us to
the doctors and apothecaries to cure the breaches which they make in our
health, and are themselves the very worst sort of superfluities.
But I come back to necessaries; and even in them, family-expenses are
extremely risen, provisions are higher rated—no provisions that I know of,

except only bread, mutton, and fish, but are made dearer than ever—house-
rent, in almost all the cities and towns of note in England, is excessively
and extremely dearer, and that in spite of such innumerable buildings as we
see almost everywhere raised up, as well in the country as in London, and
the parts adjacent.
Add to the rents of houses, the wages of servants. A tradesman, be he ever
so much inclined to good husbandry, cannot always do his kitchen-work
himself, suppose him a bachelor, or can his wife, suppose him married, and
suppose her to have brought him any portion, be his bedfellow and his cook
too. These maid-servants, then, are to be considered, and are an exceeding
tax upon house-keepers; those who were formerly hired at three pounds to
four pounds a-year wages, now demand five, six and eight pounds a-year;
nor do they double anything upon us but their wages and their pride; for,
instead of doing more work for their advance of wages, they do less: and
the ordinary work of families cannot now be performed by the same
number of maids, which, in short, is a tax upon the upper sort of tradesmen,
and contributes very often to their disasters, by the extravagant keeping
three or four maid-servants in a house, nay, sometimes five, where two
formerly were thought sufficient. This very extravagance is such, that
talking lately with a man very well experienced in this matter, he told me he
had been making his calculations on that very particular, and he found by
computation, that the number of servants kept by all sorts of people,
tradesmen as well as others, was so much increased, that there are in
London, and the towns within ten miles of it, take it every way, above a
hundred thousand more maid-servants and footmen, at this time in place,
than used to be in the same compass of ground thirty years ago;[20] and that
their wages amounted to above forty shillings a-head per annum, more than
the wages of the like number of servants did amount to at the same length
of time past; the advance to the whole body amounting to no less than two
hundred thousand pounds a-year.
Indeed, it is not easy to guess what the expense of wages to servants
amounts to in a year, in this nation; and consequently we cannot easily
determine what the increase of that expense amounts to in England, but
certainly it must rise to many hundred thousand pounds a-year in the whole.

The tradesmen bear their share of this expense, and indeed too great a share,
very ordinary tradesmen in London keeping at least two maids, and some
more, and some a footman or two besides; for it is an ordinary thing to see
the tradesmen and shopkeepers of London keep footmen, as well as the
gentlemen: witness the infinite number of blue liveries, which are so
common now that they are called the tradesmen's liveries; and few
gentlemen care to give blue to their servants for that very reason.
In proportion to their servants, the tradesmen now keep their tables, which
are also advanced in their proportion of expense to other things: indeed, the
citizen's and tradesmen's tables are now the emblems, not of plenty, but of
luxury, not of good house-keeping, but of profusion, and that of the highest
kind of extravagance; insomuch, that it was the opinion of a gentleman who
had been not a traveller only, but a nice observer of such things abroad, that
there is at this time more waste of provisions in England than in any other
nation in the world, of equal extent of ground; and that England consumes
for their whole subsistence more flesh than half Europe besides; that the
beggars of London, and within ten miles round it, eat more white bread than
the whole kingdom of Scotland,[21] and the like.
But this is an observation only, though I believe it is very just; I am
bringing it in here only as an example of the dreadful profusion of this age,
and how an extravagant way of expensive living, perfectly negligent of all
degrees of frugality or good husbandry, is the reigning vice of the people. I
could enlarge upon it, and very much to the purpose here, but I shall have
occasion to speak of it again.
The tradesman, whom I am speaking to by way of direction, will not, I
hope, think this the way for him to thrive, or find it for his convenience to
fall in with this common height of living presently, in his beginning; if he
comes gradually into it after he has gotten something considerable to lay by,
I say, if he does it then, it is early enough, and he may be said to be
insensibly drawn into it by the necessity of the times; because, forsooth, it is
a received notion, 'We must be like other folks:' I say, if he does fall into it
then, when he will pretend he cannot help it, it is better than worse, and if
he can afford it, well and good; but to begin thus, to set up at this rate, when
he first looks into the world, I can only say this, he that begins in such a
manner, it will not be difficult to guess where he will end; for a tradesman's

pride certainly precedes his destruction, and an expensive living goes before
his fall.
We are speaking now to a tradesman, who, it is supposed, must live by his
business, a young man who sets up a shop, or warehouse, and expects to get
money; one that would be a rich tradesman, rather than a poor, fine, gay
man; a grave citizen, not a peacock's feather; for he that sets up for a Sir
Fopling Flutter, instead of a complete tradesman, is not to be thought
capable of relishing this discourse; neither does this discourse relish him;
for such men seem to be among the incurables, and are rather fit for an
hospital of fools (so the French call our Bedlam) than to undertake trade,
and enter upon business.
Trade is not a ball, where people appear in masque, and act a part to make
sport; where they strive to seem what they really are not, and to think
themselves best dressed when they are least known: but it is a plain visible
scene of honest life, shown best in its native appearance, without disguise;
supported by prudence and frugality; and like strong, stiff, clay land, grows
fruitful only by good husbandry, culture, and manuring.
A tradesman dressed up fine, with his long wig and sword, may go to the
ball when he pleases, for he is already dressed up in the habit; like a piece
of counterfeit money, he is brass washed over with silver, and no tradesman
will take him for current; with money in his hand, indeed, he may go to the
merchant's warehouse and buy any thing, but no body will deal with him
without it: he may write upon his edged hat, as a certain tradesman, after
having been once broke and set up again, 'I neither give nor take credit:' and
as others set up in their shops, 'No trust by retail,' so he may say, 'No trust
by wholesale.' In short, thus equipped, he is truly a tradesman in
masquerade, and must pass for such wherever he is known. How long it
may be before his dress and he may suit, it not hard to guess.
Some will have it that this expensive way of living began among the
tradesmen first, that is to say, among the citizens of London; and that their
eager resolved pursuit of that empty and meanest kind of pride, called
imitation, namely, to look like the gentry, and appear above themselves,
drew them into it. It has indeed been a fatal custom, but it has been too long
a city vanity. If men of quality lived like themselves, men of no quality

would strive to live not like themselves: if those had plenty, these would
have profusion; if those had enough, these would have excess; if those had
what was good, these would have what was rare and exotic; I mean as to
season, and consequently dear. And this is one of the ways that have worn
out so many tradesmen before their time.
This extravagance, wherever it began, had its first rise among those sorts of
tradesmen, who, scorning the society of their shops and customers, applied
themselves to rambling to courts and plays; kept company above
themselves, and spent their hours in such company as lives always above
them; this could not but bring great expense along with it, and that expense
would not be confined to the bare keeping such company abroad, but soon
showed itself in a living like them at home, whether the tradesmen could
support it or no.
Keeping high company abroad certainly brings on visitings and high
treatings at home; and these are attended with costly furniture, rich clothes,
and dainty tables. How these things agree with a tradesman's income, it is
easy to suggest; and that, in short, these measures have sent so many
tradesmen to the Mint and to the Fleet, where I am witness to it that they
have still carried on their expensive living till they have come at last to
starving and misery; but have been so used to it, they could not abate it, or
at least not quite leave it off, though they wanted the money to pay for it.
Nor is the expensive dressing a little tax upon tradesmen, as it is now come
up to an excess not formerly known to tradesmen; and though it is true that
this particularly respects the ladies (for the tradesmen's wives now claim
that title, as they do by their dress claim the appearance), yet to do justice to
them, and not to load the women with the reproach, as if it were wholly
theirs, it must be acknowledged the men have their share in dress, as the
times go now, though, it is true, not so antic and gay as in former days; but
do we not see fine wigs, fine Holland shirts of six to seven shillings an ell,
and perhaps laced also, all lately brought down to the level of the apron,
and become the common wear of tradesmen—nay, I may say, of
tradesmen's apprentices—and that in such a manner as was never known in
England before?

If the tradesman is thriving, and can support this and his credit too, that
makes the case differ, though even then it cannot be said to be suitable; but
for a tradesman to begin thus, is very imprudent, because the expense of
this, as I said before, drains the very life-blood of his trade, taking away his
ready money only, and making no return, but the worst of return, poverty
and reproach; and, in case of miscarriage, infinite scandal and offence.
I am loth to make any part of my writing a satire upon the women; nor,
indeed, does the extravagance either of dress or house-keeping, lie all, or
always, at the door of the tradesmen's wives—the husband is often the
prompter of it; at least he does not let his wife into the detail of his
circumstances, he does not make her mistress of her own condition, but
either flatters her with notions of his wealth, his profits, and his flourishing
circumstances, and so the innocent woman spends high and lives great,
believing that she is in a condition to afford it, and that her husband
approves of it; at least, he does not offer to retrench or restrain her, but lets
her go on, and indeed goes on with her, to the ruin of both.
I cannot but mention one thing here (though I purpose to give you one
discourse on that subject by itself), namely, the great and indispensable
obligation there is upon a tradesman always to acquaint his wife with the
truth of his circumstances, and not to let her run on in ignorance, till she
falls with him down the precipice of an unavoidable ruin—a thing no
prudent woman would do, and therefore will never take amiss a husband's
plainness in that particular case. But I reserve this to another place, because
I am rather directing my discourse at this time to the tradesman at his
beginning, and, as it may be supposed, unmarried.
Next to the expensive dressing, I place the expensive keeping company, as
one thing fatal to a tradesman, and which, if he would be a complete
tradesman, he should avoid with the utmost diligence. It is an agreeable
thing to be seen in good company; for a man to see himself courted and
valued, and his company desired by men of fashion and distinction, is very
pleasing to any young tradesman, and it is really a snare which a young
tradesman, if he be a man of sense, can very hardly resist. There is in itself
indeed nothing that can be objected against, or is not very agreeable to the
nature of man, and that not to his vicious part merely, but even to his best
faculties; for who would not value himself upon being, as above, rendered

acceptable to men both in station and figure above themselves? and it is
really a piece of excellent advice which a learned man gave to his son,
always to keep company with men above himself, not with men below
himself.
But take me now to be talking, as I really am, not to the man merely, but to
his circumstances, if he were a man of fortune, and had the view of great
things before him, it would hold good; but if he is a young tradesman, such
as I am now speaking of, who is newly entered into business, and must
depend upon his said business for his subsistence and support, and hopes to
raise himself by it—I say, if I am talking to such a one, I must say to him,
that keeping company as above, with men superior to himself in knowledge,
in figure, and estate, is not his business; for, first, as such conversation must
necessarily take up a great deal of his time, so it ordinarily must occasion a
great expense of money, and both destructive of his prosperity; nay,
sometimes the first may be as fatal to him as the last, and it is oftentimes
true in that sense of trade, that while by keeping company he is drawn out
of his business, his absence from his shop or warehouse is the most fatal to
him; and while he spends one crown in the tavern, he spends forty crowns'
worth of his time; and with this difference, too, which renders it the worse
to the tradesman, namely, that the money may be recovered, and gotten up
again, but the time cannot. For example—
1. Perhaps in that very juncture a person comes to his warehouse. Suppose
the tradesman to be a warehouse-keeper, who trades by commission, and
this person, being a clothier in the country, comes to offer him his business,
the commission of which might have been worth to him thirty to forty or
fifty pounds per annum; but finding him abroad, or rather, not finding him
at home and in his business, goes to another, and fixes with him at once. I
once knew a dealer lose such an occasion as this, for an afternoon's
pleasure, he being gone a-fishing into Hackney-marsh. This loss can never
be restored, this expense of time was a fatal expense of money; and no
tradesman will deny but they find many such things as this happen in the
course of trade, either to themselves or others.
2. Another tradesman is invited to dinner by his great friend; for I am now
speaking chiefly upon the subject of keeping high company, and what the
tradesman sometimes suffers by it; it is true, that there he finds a most noble

entertainment, the person of quality, and that professes a friendship for him,
treats him with infinite respect, is fond of him, makes him welcome as a
prince—for I am speaking of the acquaintance as really valuable and good
in itself—but then, see it in its consequences. The tradesman on this
occasion misses his 'Change, that is, omits going to the Exchange for that
one day only, and not being found there, a merchant with whom he was in
treaty for a large parcel of foreign goods, which would have been to his
advantage to have bought, sells them to another more diligent man in the
same way; and when he comes home, he finds, to his great mortification,
that he has lost a bargain that would have been worth a hundred pounds
buying; and now being in want of the goods, he is forced to entreat his
neighbour who bought them to part with some of them at a considerable
advance of price, and esteem it a favour too. Who now paid dearest for the
visit to a person of figure?—the gentleman, who perhaps spent twenty
shillings extraordinary to give him a handsome dinner, or the tradesman
who lost a bargain worth a hundred pounds buying to go to eat it?
3. Another tradesman goes to 'Change in the ordinary course of his
business, intending to speak with some of the merchants, his customers, as
is usual, and get orders for goods, or perhaps an appointment to come to his
warehouse to buy; but a snare of the like kind falls in his way, and a couple
of friends, who perhaps have little or no business, at least with him, lay hold
of him, and they agree to go off Change to the tavern together. By
complying with this invitation, he omits speaking to some of those
merchants, as above, who, though he knew nothing of their minds, yet it
had been his business to have shown himself to them, and have put himself
in the way of their call; but omitting this, he goes and drinks a bottle of
wine, as above, and though he stays but an hour, or, as we say, but a little
while, yet unluckily, in that interim, the merchant, not seeing him on the
Exchange, calls at his warehouse as he goes from the Exchange, but not
finding him there either, he goes to another warehouse, and gives his orders
to the value of £300 or £400, to a more diligent neighbour of the same
business; by which he (the warehouse-keeper) not only loses the profit of
selling that parcel, or serving that order, but the merchant is shown the way
to his neighbour's warehouse, who, being more diligent than himself, fails
not to cultivate his interest, obliges him with selling low, even to little or no
gain, for the first parcel; and so the unhappy tradesman loses not his selling

that parcel only, but loses the very customer, which was, as it were, his
peculiar property before.
All these things, and many more such, are the consequences of a
tradesman's absence from his business; and I therefore say, the expense of
time on such light occasions as these, is one of the worst sorts of
extravagance, and the most fatal to the tradesman, because really he knows
not what he loses.
Above all things, the tradesman should take care not to be absent in the
season of business, as I have mentioned above; for the warehouse-keeper to
be absent from 'Change, which is his market, or from his warehouse, at the
times when the merchants generally go about to buy, he had better be absent
all the rest of the day.
I know nothing is more frequent, than for the tradesman, when company
invites, or an excursion from business presses, to say, 'Well, come, I have
nothing to do; there is no business to hinder, there is nothing neglected, I
have no letters to write;' and the like; and away he goes to take the air for
the afternoon, or to sit and enjoy himself with a friend—all of them things
innocent and lawful in themselves; but here is the crisis of a tradesman's
prosperity. In that very moment business presents, a valuable customer
comes to buy, an unexpected bargain offers to be sold; another calls to pay
money; and the like: nay, I would almost say, but that I am loth to concern
the devil in more evils than he is guilty of—that the devil frequently draws
a man out of his business when something extraordinary is just at hand for
his advantage.
But not, as I have said, to charge the devil with what he is not guilty of, the
tradesman is generally his own tempter; his head runs off from his business
by a secret indolence; company, and the pleasure of being well received
among gentlemen, is a cursed snare to a young tradesman, and carries him
away from his business, for the mere vanity of being caressed and
complimented by men who mean no ill, and perhaps know not the mischief
they do to the man they show respect to; and this the young tradesman
cannot resist, and that is in time his undoing.
The tradesman's pleasure should be in his business, his companions should
be his books; and if he has a family, he makes his excursions up stairs, and

no farther; when he is there, a bell or a call brings him down; and while he
is in his parlour, his shop or his warehouse never misses him; his customers
never go away unserved, his letters never come in and are unanswered.
None of my cautions aim at restraining a tradesman from diverting himself,
as we call it, with his fireside, or keeping company with his wife and
children: there are so few tradesmen ruin themselves that way, and so few
ill consequences happen upon an uxorious temper, that I will not so much as
rank it with the rest; nor can it be justly called one of the occasions of a
tradesman's disasters; on the contrary, it is too often that the want of a due
complacency there, the want of taking delight there, estranges the man from
not his parlour only, but his warehouse and shop, and every part of business
that ought to engross both his mind and his time. That tradesman who does
not delight in his family, will never long delight in his business; for, as one
great end of an honest tradesman's diligence is the support of his family,
and the providing for the comfortable subsistence of his wife and children,
so the very sight of, and above all, his tender and affectionate care for his
wife and children, is the spur of his diligence; that is, it puts an edge upon
his mind, and makes him hunt the world for business, as hounds hunt the
woods for their game. When he is dispirited, or discouraged by crosses and
disappointments, and ready to lie down and despair, the very sight of his
family rouses him again, and he flies to his business with a new vigour; 'I
must follow my business,' says he, 'or we must all starve, my poor children
must perish;' in a word, he that is not animated to diligence by the very
sight and thought of his wife and children being brought to misery and
distress, is a kind of a deaf adder that no music will charm, or a Turkish
mute that no pity can move: in a word, he is a creature not to be called
human, a wretch hardened against all the passions and affections that nature
has furnished to other animals; and as there is no rhetoric of use to such a
kind of man as that, so I am not talking to such a one, he must go among the
incurables; for, where nature cannot work, what can argument assist?
FOOTNOTES:
[19]
[Now, as in Defoe's time, a common observer is apt to be
impressed with the idea, that expenses, with a large part of the
community, exceed gains. Certainly, this is true at all times with a

certain portion of society, but probably at no time with a large
portion. There is a tendency to great self-deception in all such
speculations; and no one ever thinks of bringing them to the only
true test—statistical facts. The reader ought, therefore, to pay
little attention to the complaints in the text, as to an increased
extravagance in the expenses of tradesmen, and only regard the
general recommendation, and the reasons by which that
recommendation is enforced, to live within income.]

[20]
[There can be little doubt, that the calculation of this experienced
gentleman is grossly inconsistent with the truth. Nevertheless, this
part of Defoe's work contains some curious traits of manners,
which are probably not exaggerated]

[21]
[Defoe, from his having been employed for several years in
Scotland at the time of the Union, must have well known how
rare was then the use of white or wheaten bread in that country.]

CHAPTER XI
OF THE TRADESMAN'S MARRYING TOO SOON

It was a prudent provision which our ancestors made in the indenture of
tradesmen's apprentices, that they should not contract matrimony during
their apprenticeship; and they bound it with a penalty that was then thought
sufficient. However, custom has taken off the edge of it since; namely, that
they who did thus contract matrimony should forfeit their indentures, that is
to say, should lose the benefit of their whole service, and not be made free.
Doubtless our forefathers were better acquainted with the advantages of
frugality than we are, and saw farther into the desperate consequences of
expensive living in the beginning of a tradesman's setting out into the world
than we do; at least, it is evident they studied more and practised more of
the prudential part in those cases, than we do.
Hence we find them very careful to bind their youth under the strongest
obligations they could, to temperance, modesty, and good husbandry, as the
grand foundations of their prosperity in trade, and to prescribe to them such
rules and methods of frugality and good husbandry, as they thought would
best conduce to their prosperity.
Among these rules this was one of the chief—namely, 'that they should not
wed before they had sped?' It is an old homely rule, and coarsely expressed,
but the meaning is evident, that a young beginner should never marry too
soon. While he was a servant, he was bound from it as above; and when he
had his liberty, he was persuaded against it by all the arguments which
indeed ought to prevail with a considering man—namely, the expenses that
a family necessarily would bring with it, and the care he ought to take to be
able to support the expense before he brought it upon himself.
On this account it is, I say, our ancestors took more of their youth than we
now do; at least, I think, they studied well the best methods of thriving, and

were better acquainted with the steps by which a young tradesman ought to
be introduced into the world than we are, and of the difficulties which those
people would necessarily involve themselves in, who, despising those rules
and methods of frugality, involved themselves in the expense of a family
before they were in a way of gaining sufficient to support it.
A married apprentice will always make a repenting tradesman; and those
stolen matches, a very few excepted, are generally attended with infinite
broils and troubles, difficulties, and cross events, to carry them on at first by
way of intrigue, to conceal them afterwards under fear of superiors, to
manage after that to keep off scandal, and preserve the character as well of
the wife as of the husband; and all this necessarily attended with a heavy
expense, even before the young man is out of his time; before he has set a
foot forward, or gotten a shilling in the world; so that all this expense is out
of his original stock, even before he gets it, and is a sad drawback upon him
when it comes.
Nay, this unhappy and dirty part is often attended with worse consequences
still; for this expense coming upon him while he is but a servant, and while
his portion, or whatever it is to be called, is not yet come into his hand, he is
driven to terrible exigencies to supply this expense. If his circumstances are
mean, and his trade mean, he is frequently driven to wrong his master, and
rob his shop or his till for money, if he can come at it: and this, as it begins
in madness, generally ends in destruction; for often he is discovered,
exposed, and perhaps punished, and so the man is undone before he begins.
If his circumstances are good, and he has friends that are able, and
expectations that are considerable, then his expense is still the greater, and
ways and means are found out, or at least looked for, to supply the expense,
and conceal the fact, that his friends may not know it, till he has gotten the
blessing he expects into his hands, and is put in a way to stand upon his
own legs; and then it comes out, with a great many grieving aggravations to
a parent to find himself tricked and defeated in the expectations of his son's
marrying handsomely, and to his advantage; instead of which, he is obliged
to receive a dish-clout for a daughter-in-law, and see his family propagated
by a race of beggars, and yet perhaps as haughty, as insolent, and as
expensive, as if she had blessed the family with a lady of fortune, and
brought a fund with her to have supported the charge of her posterity.

When this happens, the poor young man's case is really deplorable. Before
he is out of his time, he is obliged to borrow of friends, if he has any, on
pretence his father does not make him a sufficient allowance, or he trenches
upon his master's cash, which perhaps, he being the eldest apprentice, is in
his hands; and this he does, depending, that when he is out of his time, and
his father gives him wherewith to set up, he will make good the deficiency;
and all this happens accordingly so that his reputation as to his master is
preserved, and he comes off clear as to dishonesty in his trust.
But what a sad chasm does it make in his fortune! I knew a certain young
tradesman, whose father, knowing nothing of his son's measures, gave him
£2000 to set up with, straining himself to the utmost for the well
introducing his son into the world; but who, when he came to set up, having
near a year before married the servant-maid of the house where he lodged,
and kept her privately at a great expense, had above £600 of his stock
already wasted and sunk, before he began for himself; the consequence of
which was, that going in partner with another young man, who had likewise
£2000 to begin with, he was, instead of half of the profits, obliged to make
a private article to accept of a third of the trade; and the beggar-wife
proving more expensive, by far, than the partner's wife (who married
afterwards, and doubled his fortune), the first young man was obliged to
quit the trade, and with his remaining stock set up by himself; in which case
his expenses continuing, and his stock being insufficient, he sank gradually,
and then broke, and died poor. In a word, he broke the heart of his father,
wasted what he had, and could never recover it, and at last it broke his own
heart too.
But I shall bring it a little farther. Suppose the youth not to act so grossly
neither; not to marry in his apprenticeship, not to be forced to keep a wife
privately, and eat the bread he never got; but suppose him to be entered
upon the world, that he has set up, opened shop, or fitted up his warehouse,
and is ready to trade, the next thing, in the ordinary course of the world, at
this time is a wife; nay, I have met with some parents, who have been
indiscreet enough themselves to prompt their sons to marry as soon as they
are set up; and the reason they give for it is, the wickedness of the age, that
youth are drawn in a hundred ways to ruinous matches or debaucheries, and
are so easily ruined by the mere looseness of their circumstances, that it is

needful to marry them to keep them at home, and to preserve them diligent,
and bind them close to their business.
This, be it just or not, is a bad cure of an ill disease; it is ruining the young
man to make him sober, and making him a slave for life to make him
diligent. Be it that the wife he shall marry is a sober, frugal, housewifely
woman, and that nothing is to be laid to her charge but the mere necessary
addition of a family expense, and that with the utmost moderation, yet, at
the best, he cripples his fortune, stock-starves his business, and brings a
great expense upon himself at first, before, by his success in trade, he had
laid up stock enough to support the charge.
First, it is reasonable to suppose, that at his beginning in the world he
cannot expect to get so good a portion with a wife, as he might after he had
been set up a few years, and by his diligence and frugality, joined to a small
expense in house-keeping, had increased both his stock in trade and the
trade itself; then he would be able to look forward boldly, and would have
some pretence for insisting on a fortune, when he could make out his
improvements in trade, and show that he was both able to maintain a wife,
and able to live without her. When a young tradesman in Holland or
Germany goes a-courting, I am told the first question the young woman
asks of him, or perhaps her friends for her, is, 'Are you able to pay the
charges?' that is to say, in English, 'Are you able to keep a wife when you
have got her?' The question is a little Gothic indeed, and would be but a
kind of gross way of receiving a lover here, according to our English good
breeding; but there is a great deal of reason in the inquiry, that must be
confessed; and he that is not able to pay the charges, should never begin the
journey; for, be the wife what she will, the very state of life that naturally
attends the marrying a woman, brings with it an expense so very
considerable, that a tradesman ought to consider very well of it before he
engages.
But it is to be observed, too, that abundance of young tradesmen, especially
in England, not only marry early, but by the so marrying they are obliged to
take up with much less fortunes in their haste, than when they allow
themselves longer time of consideration. As it stands now, generally
speaking, the wife and the shop make their first show together; but how few
of these early marriages succeed—how hard such a tradesman finds it to

stand, and support the weight that attends it—I appeal to the experience of
those, who having taken this wrong step, and being with difficulty got over
it, are yet good judges of that particular circumstance in others that come
after them.[22]
I know it is a common cry that is raised against the woman, when her
husband fails in business, namely, that it is the wife has ruined him; it is
true, in some particular cases it may be so, but in general it is wrong placed
—they may say marrying has ruined the man, when they cannot say his
wife has done it, for the woman was not in fault, but her husband.
When a tradesman marries, there are necessary consequences, I mean of
expenses, which the wife ought not be charged with, and cannot be made
accountable for—such as, first, furnishing the house; and let this be done
with the utmost plainness, so as to be decent; yet it must be done, and this
calls for ready money, and that ready money by so much diminishes his
stock in trade; nor is the wife at all to be charged in this case, unless she
either put him to more charge than was needful, or showed herself
dissatisfied with things needful, and required extravagant gaiety and
expense. Secondly, servants, if the man was frugal before, it may be he
shifted with a shop, and a servant in it, an apprentice, or journeyman, or
perhaps without one at first, and a lodging for himself, where he kept no
other servant, and so his expenses went on small and easy; or if he was
obliged to take a house because of his business and the situation of his shop,
he then either let part of the house out to lodgers, keeping himself a
chamber in it, or at the worst left it unfurnished, and without any one but a
maid-servant to dress his victuals, and keep the house clean; and thus he
goes on when a bachelor, with a middling expense at most.
But when he brings home a wife, besides the furnishing his house, he must
have a formal house-keeping, even at the very first; and as children come
on, more servants, that is, maids, or nurses, that are as necessary as the
bread he eats—especially if he multiplies apace, as he ought to suppose he
may—in this case let the wife be frugal and managing, let her be
unexceptionable in her expense, yet the man finds his charge mount high,
and perhaps too high for his gettings, notwithstanding the additional stock
obtained by her portion. And what is the end of this but inevitable decay,
and at last poverty and ruin?

Nay, the more the woman is blameless, the more certain is his overthrow,
for if it was an expense that was extravagant and unnecessary, and that his
wife ran him out by her high living and gaiety, he might find ways to
retrench, to take up in time, and prevent the mischief that is in view. A
woman may, with kindness and just reasoning, be easily convinced, that her
husband cannot maintain such an expense as she now lives at; and let
tradesmen say what they will, and endeavour to excuse themselves as much
as they will, by loading their wives with the blame of their miscarriage, as I
have known some do, and as old father Adam, though in another case, did
before them, I must say so much in the woman's behalf at a venture. It will
be very hard to make me believe that any woman, that was not fit for
Bedlam, if her husband truly and timely represented his case to her, and
how far he was or was not able to maintain the expense of their way of
living, would not comply with her husband's circumstances, and retrench
her expenses, rather than go on for a while, and come to poverty and
misery. Let, then, the tradesman lay it early and seriously before his wife,
and with kindness and plainness tell her his circumstances, or never let him
pretend to charge her with being the cause of his ruin. Let him tell her how
great his annual expense is; for a woman who receives what she wants as
she wants it, that only takes it with one hand, and lays it out with another,
does not, and perhaps cannot, always keep an account, or cast up how much
it comes to by the year. Let her husband, therefore, I say, tell her honestly
how much his expense for her and himself amounts to yearly; and tell her as
honestly, that it is too much for him, that his income in trade will not
answer it; that he goes backward, and the last year his family expenses
amounted to so much, say £400—for that is but an ordinary sum now for a
tradesman to spend, whatever it has been esteemed formerly—and that his
whole trade, though he made no bad debts, and had no losses, brought him
in but £320 the whole year, so that he was £80 that year a worse man than
he was before, that this coming year he had met with a heavy loss already,
having had a shopkeeper in the country broke in his debt £200, and that he
offered but eight shillings in the pound, so that he should lose £120 by him,
and that this, added to the £80 run out last year, came to £200, and that if
they went on thus, they should be soon reduced.
What could the woman say to so reasonable a discourse, if she was a
woman of any sense, but to reply, she would do any thing that lay in her to

assist him, and if her way of living was too great for him to support, she
would lessen it as he should direct, or as much as he thought was
reasonable?—and thus, going hand in hand, she and he together abating
what reason required, they might bring their expenses within the compass
of their gettings, and be able to go on again comfortably.
But now, when the man, finding his expenses greater than his income, and
yet, when he looks into those expenses, finds that his wife is frugal too, and
industrious, and applies diligently to the managing her family, and bringing
up her children, spends nothing idly, saves every thing that can be saved;
that instead of keeping too many servants, is a servant to every body
herself; and that, in short, when he makes the strictest examination, finds
she lays out nothing but what is absolutely necessary, what now must this
man do? He is ruined inevitably—for all his expense is necessary; there is
no retrenching, no abating any thing.
This, I say, is the worst case of the two indeed; and this man, though he may
say he is undone by marrying, yet cannot blame the woman, and say he is
undone by his wife. This is the very case I am speaking of; the man should
not have married so soon; he should have staid till he had, by pushing on
his trade, and living close in his expense, increased his stock, and been what
we call beforehand in the world; and had he done thus, he had not been
undone by marrying.
It is a little hard to say it, but in this respect it is very true, there is many a
young tradesman ruined by marrying a good wife—in which, pray take
notice that I observe my own just distinction: I do not say they are ruined or
undone by a good wife, or by their wives being good, but by their marrying
—their unseasonable, early, and hasty marrying—before they had cast up
the cost of one, or the income of the other—before they had inquired into
the necessary charge of a wife and a family, or seen the profits of their
business, whether it would maintain them or no; and whether, as above,
they could pay the charges, the increasing necessary charge, of a large and
growing family. How to persuade young men to consider this in time, and
beware and avoid the mischief of it, that is a question by itself.
Let no man, then, when he is brought to distress by this early rashness, turn
short upon his wife, and reproach her with being the cause of his ruin,

unless, at the same time, he can charge her with extravagant living, needless
expense, squandering away his money, spending it in trifles and toys, and
running him out till the shop could not maintain the kitchen, much less the
parlour; nor even then, unless he had given her timely notice of it, and
warned her that he was not able to maintain so large a family, or so great an
expense, and that, therefore, she would do well to consider of it, and
manage with a straiter hand, and the like. If, indeed, he had done so, and
she had not complied with him, then she had been guilty, and without
excuse too; but as the woman cannot judge of his affairs, and he sees and
bears a share in the riotous way of their living, and does not either show his
dislike of it, or let her know, by some means or other, that he cannot support
it, the woman cannot be charged with being his ruin—no, though her way
of extravagant expensive living were really the cause of it. I met with a
short dialogue, the other day, between a tradesman and his wife, upon such
a subject as this, some part of which may be instructing in the case before
us.
The tradesman was very melancholy for two or three days, and had
appeared all that time to be pensive and sad, and his wife, with all her arts,
entreaties, anger, and tears, could not get it out of him; only now and then
she heard him fetch a deep sigh, and at another time say, he wished he was
dead, and the like expressions. At last, she began the discourse with him in
a respectful, obliging manner, but with the utmost importunity to get it out
of him, thus:—
Wife.—My dear, what is the matter with you?
Husb.—Nothing.
Wife.—Nay, don't put me off with an answer that signifies nothing; tell me
what is the matter, for I am sure something extraordinary is the case—tell
me, I say, do tell me. [Then she kisses him.]
Husb.—Prithee, don't trouble me.
Wife.—I will know what is the matter
Husb.—I tell you nothing is the matter—what should be the matter?

Wife.—Come, my dear, I must not be put off so; I am sure, if it be any thing
ill, I must have my share of it; and why should I not be worthy to know it,
whatever it is, before it comes upon me.
Husb.—Poor woman! [He kisses her.]
Wife.—Well, but let me know what it is; come, don't distract yourself alone;
let me bear a share of your grief, as well as I have shared in your joy.
Husb.—My dear, let me alone, you trouble me now, indeed.
[Still he keeps her off.]
Wife.—Then you will not trust your wife with knowing what touches you so
sensibly?
Husb.—I tell you, it is nothing, it is a trifle, it is not worth talking of.
Wife.—Don't put me off with such stuff as that; I tell you, it is not for
nothing that you have been so concerned, and that so long too; I have seen
it plain enough; why, you have drooped upon it for this fortnight past, and
above.
Husb.—Ay, this twelvemonth, and more.
Wife.—Very well, and yet it is nothing.
Husb.—It is nothing that you can help me in.
Wife.—Well, but how do you know that? Let me see, and judge whether I
can, or no.
Husb.—I tell you, you cannot.
Wife.—Sure it is some terrible thing then. Why must not I know it? What!
are you going to break? Come, tell me the worst of it.
Husb.—Break! no, no, I hope not—Break! no, I'll never break.
Wife.—As good as you have broke; don't presume; no man in trade can say
he won't break.
Husb.—Yes, yes; I can say I won't break.

Wife.—I am glad to hear it; I hope you have a knack, then, beyond other
tradesmen.
Husb.—No, I have not neither; any man may say so as well as I; and no
man need break, if he will act the part of an honest man.
Wife.—How is that, pray?
Husb.—Why, give up all faithfully to his creditors, as soon as he finds there
is a deficiency in his stock, and yet that there is enough left to pay them.
Wife.—Well, I don't understand those things, but I desire you would tell me
what it is troubles you now; and if it be any thing of that kind, yet I think
you should let me know it.
Husb.—Why should I trouble you with it?
Wife.—It would be very unkind to let me know nothing till it comes and
swallows you up and me too, all on a sudden; I must know it, then; pray tell
it me now.
Husb.—Why, then, I will tell you; indeed, I am not going to break, and I
hope I am in no danger of it, at least not yet.
Wife.—I thank you, my dear, for that; but still, though it is some satisfaction
to me to be assured of so much, yet I find there is something in it; and your
way of speaking is ambiguous and doubtful. I entreat you, be plain and free
with me. What is at the bottom of it?—why won't you tell me?—what have
I done, that I am not to be trusted with a thing that so nearly concerns me?
Husb.—I have told you, my dear; pray be easy; I am not going to break, I
tell you.
Wife.—Well, but let us talk a little more seriously of it; you are not going to
break, that is, not just now, not yet, you said; but, my dear, if it is then not
just at hand, but may happen, or is in view at some distance, may not some
steps be taken to prevent it for the present, and to save us from it at last too.
Husb.—What steps could you think of, if that were the case?

Wife.—Indeed it is not much that is in a wife's power, but I am ready to do
what lies in me, and what becomes me; and first, pray let us live lower. Do
you think I would live as I do, if I thought your income would not bear it?
No, indeed.
Husb.—You have touched me in the most sensible part, my dear; you have
found out what has been my grief; you need make no further inquiries.
Wife.—Was that your grief?—and would you never be so kind to your wife
as to let her know it?
Husb.—How could I mention so unkind a thing to you?
Wife.—Would it not have been more unkind to have let things run on to
destruction, and left your wife to the reproach of the world, as having
ruined you by her expensive living?
Husb.—That's true, my dear; and it may be I might have spoke to you at
last, but I could not do it now; it looks so cruel and so hard to lower your
figure, and make you look little in the eyes of the world, for you know they
judge all by outsides, that I could not bear it.
Wife.—It would be a great deal more cruel to let me run on, and be really an
instrument to ruin, my husband, when, God knows, I thought I was within
the compass of your gettings, and that a great way; and you know you
always prompted me to go fine, to treat handsomely, to keep more servants,
and every thing of that kind. Could I doubt but that you could afford it very
well?
Husb.—That's true, but I see it is otherwise now; and though I cannot help
it, I could not mention it to you, nor, for ought I know, should I ever have
done it.
Wife.—Why! you said just now you should have done it.
Husb.—Ay, at last, perhaps, I might, when things had been past recovery.
Wife.—That is to say, when you were ruined and undone, and could not
show your head, I should know it; or when a statute of bankrupt had come
out, and the creditors had come and turned us out of doors, then I should
have known it—that would have been a barbarous sort of kindness.

Husb.—What could I do? I could not help it.
Wife.—Just so our old acquaintance G—W—did; his poor wife knew not
one word of it, nor so much as suspected it, but thought him in as
flourishing circumstances as ever; till on a sudden he was arrested in an
action for a great sum, so great that he could not find bail, and the next day
an execution on another action was served in the house, and swept away the
very bed from under her; and the poor lady, that brought him £3000 portion,
was turned into the street with five small children to take care of.
Husb.—Her case was very sad, indeed.
Wife.—But was not he a barbarous wretch to her, to let her know nothing of
her circumstances? She was at the ball but the day before, in her velvet suit,
and with her jewels on, and they reproach her with it every day.
Husb.—She did go too fine, indeed.
Wife.—Do you think she would have done so, if she had known any thing
of his circumstances?
Husb.—It may be not.
Wife.—No, no; she is a lady of too much sense, to allow us to suggest it.
Husb.—And why did he not let her have some notice of it?
Wife.—Why, he makes the same dull excuse you speak of; he could not bear
to speak to her of it, and it looked so unkind to do any thing to straiten her,
he could not do it, it would break his heart, and the like; and now he has
broke her heart.
Husb.—I know it is hard to break in upon one's wife in such a manner,
where there is any true kindness and affection; but—
Wife.—But! but what? Were there really a true kindness and affection, as is
the pretence, it would be quite otherwise; he would not break his own heart,
forsooth, but chose rather to break his wife's heart! he could not be so cruel
to tell her of it, and therefore left her to be cruelly and villanously insulted,
as she was, by the bailiffs and creditors. Was that his kindness to her?

Husb.—Well, my dear, I have not brought you to that, I hope.
Wife.—No, my dear, and I hope you will not; however, you shall not say I
will not do every thing I can to prevent it; and, if it lies on my side, you are
safe.
Husb.—What will you do to prevent it? Come, let's see, what can you do?
Wife.—Why, first, I keep five maids, you see, and a footman; I shall
immediately give three of my maids warning, and the fellow also, and save
you that part of the expense.
Husb.—How can you do that?—you can't do your business.
Wife.—Yes, yes, there's nobody knows what they can do till they are tried;
two maids may do all my house-business, and I'll look after my children
myself; and if I live to see them grown a little bigger, I'll make them help
one another, and keep but one maid; I hope that will be one step towards
helping it.
Husb.—And what will all your friends and acquaintance, and the world, say
to it?
Wife.—Not half so much as they would to see you break, and the world
believe it be by my high living, keeping a house full of servants, and do
nothing myself.
Husb.—They will say I am going to break upon your doing thus, and that's
the way to make it so.
Wife.—I had rather a hundred should say you were going to break, than one
could say you were really broke already.
Husb.—But it is dangerous to have it talked of, I say.
Wife.—No, no; they will say we are taking effectual ways to prevent
breaking.
Husb.—But it will put a slur upon yourself too. I cannot bear any
mortifications upon you, any more than I can upon myself.

Wife.—Don't tell me of mortifications; it would be a worse mortification, a
thousand times over, to have you ruined, and have your creditors insult me
with being the occasion of it.
Husb.—It is very kind in you, my dear, and I must always acknowledge it;
but, however, I would not have you straiten yourself too much neither.
Wife.—Nay, this will not be so much a mortification as the natural
consequence of other things; for, in order to abate the expense of our living,
I resolve to keep less company. I assure you I will lay down all the state of
living, as well as the expense of it; and, first, I will keep no visiting days;
secondly, I'll drop the greatest part of the acquaintance I have; thirdly, I will
lay down our treats and entertainments, and the like needless occasions of
expense, and then I shall have no occasion for so many maids.
Husb.—But this, my dear, I say, will make as much noise almost, as if I
were actually broke.
Wife.—No, no; leave that part to me.
Husb.—But you may tell me how you will manage it then.
Wife.—Why, I'll go into the country.
Husb.—That will but bring them after you, as it used to do.
Wife.—But I'll put off our usual lodgings at Hampstead, and give out that I
am gone to spend the summer in Bedfordshire, at my aunt's, where every
body knows I used to go sometimes; they can't come after me thither.
Husb.—But when you return, they will all visit you.
Wife.—Yes, and I will make no return to all those I have a mind to drop, and
there's an end of all their acquaintance at once.
Husb.—And what must I do?
Wife.—Nay, my dear, it is not for me to direct that part; you know how to
cure the evil which you sensibly feel the mischief of. If I do my part, I don't
doubt you know how to do yours.
Husb.—Yes, I know, but it is hard, very hard.

Wife.—Nay, I hope it is no harder for you than it is for your wife.
Husb.—That is true, indeed, but I'll see.
Wife.—The question to me is not whether it is hard, but whether it is
necessary.
Husb.—Nay, it is necessary, that is certain.
Wife.—Then I hope it is as necessary to you as to your wife.
Husb.—I know not where to begin.
Wife.—Why, you keep two horses and a groom, you keep rich high
company, and you sit long at the Fleece every evening. I need say no more;
you know where to begin well enough.
Husb.—It is very hard; I have not your spirit, my dear.
Wife.—I hope you are not more ashamed to retrench, than you would be to
have your name in the Gazette.
Husb.—It is sad work to come down hill thus.
Wife.—It would be worse to fall down at one blow from the top; better slide
gently and voluntarily down the smooth part, than to be pushed down the
precipice, and be dashed all in pieces.
There was more of this dialogue, but I give the part which I think most to
the present purpose; and as I strive to shorten the doctrine, so I will abridge
the application also; the substance of the case lies in a few particulars, thus:
—
I. The man was melancholy, and oppressed with the thoughts of his
declining circumstances, and yet had not any thought of letting his wife
know it, whose way of living was high and expensive, and more than he
could support; but though it must have ended in ruin, he would rather let it
have gone on till she was surprised in it, than to tell her the danger that was
before her.
His wife very well argues the injustice and unkindness of such usage, and
how hard it was to a wife, who, being of necessity to suffer in the fall, ought

certainly to have the most early notice of it—that, if possible, she might
prevent it, or, at least, that she might not be overwhelmed with the
suddenness and the terror of it.
II. Upon discovering it to his wife, or rather her drawing the discovery from
him by her importunity, she immediately, and most readily and cheerfully,
enters into measures to retrench her expenses, and, as far as she was able, to
prevent the blow, which was otherwise apparent and unavoidable.
Hence it is apparent, that the expensive living of most tradesmen in their
families, is for want of a serious acquainting their wives with their
circumstances, and acquainting them also in time; for there are very few
ladies so unreasonable, who, if their husbands seriously informed them how
things stood with them, and that they could not support their way of living,
would not willingly come into measures to prevent their own destruction.
III. That it is in vain, as well as unequal, for a tradesman to preach frugality
to his wife, and to bring his wife to a retrenching of her expenses, and not at
the same time to retrench his own; seeing that keeping horses and high
company is every way as great and expensive, and as necessary to be
abated, as any of the family extravagances, let them be which they will.
All this relates to the duty of a tradesman in preventing his family expenses
being ruinous to his business; but the true method to prevent all this, and
never to let it come so far, is still, as I said before, not to marry too soon;
not to marry, till by a frugal industrious management of his trade in the
beginning, he has laid a foundation for maintaining a wife, and bringing up
a family, and has made an essay by which he knows what he can and cannot
do, and also before he has laid up and increased his stock, that he may not
cripple his fortune at first, and be ruined before he has begun to thrive.
FOOTNOTES:

[22]
[Defoe's views on the subject of the too early marrying of young
tradesmen, are in every particular sound. Though there are
instances of premature marriages followed by no evil result, but
rather the contrary, there can be no doubt, that the only prudent
course is to wait till a settlement in life, and a regular income,
have been secured. A young man, anxious for other reasons to
marry, is sometimes heard to express his conviction that he might
live more cheaply married than single. There could be no
assertion more inconsistent with all common experience. Even if
no positively ruinous consequences arise from an over-early
marriage, it almost always occasions much hardship. It saddens a
period of life which nature has designed to be peculiarly cheerful.
The whole life of such a man becomes like a year in which there
has been no May or June. The grave cares of matrimony do not
appear to be naturally suitable to the human character, till the man
has approached his thirtieth, and the woman her twenty-fourth
year.]

CHAPTER XII
OF THE TRADESMAN'S LEAVING HIS BUSINESS TO SERVANTS

It is the ordinary excuse of the gentlemen tradesmen of our times, that they
have good servants, and that therefore they take more liberty to be out of
their business, than they would otherwise do. 'Oh!' says the shopkeeper, 'I
have an apprentice—it is an estate to have such a servant. I am as safe in
him as if I had my eye upon the business from morning till night; let me be
where I will, I am always satisfied he is at home; if I am at the tavern, I am
sure he is in the counting-house, or behind the counter; he is never out of
his post.
'And then for my other servants, the younger apprentices,' says he, 'it is all
one as if I were there myself—they would be idle it may be, but he won't let
them, I assure you; they must stick close to it, or he will make them do it;
he tells them, boys do not come apprentices to play, but to work; not to sit
idle, and be doing nothing, but to mind their master's business, that they
may learn how to do their own.'
'Very well; and you think, Sir, this young man being so much in the shop,
and so diligent and faithful, is an estate to you, and so indeed it is; but are
your customers as well pleased with this man, too, as you are? or are they as
well pleased with him, as they would be, if you were there yourself?'
'Yes, they are,' says the shopkeeper; 'nay, abundance of the customers take
him for the master of the shop, and don't know any other; and he is so very
obliging, and pleases so well, giving content to every body, that, if I am at
any other part of the shop, and see him serving a customer, I never interrupt
them, unless sometimes (he is so modest) he will call me, and turning to the
ladies say, "There's my master, Madam; if you think he will abate you any
thing, I'll call him;" and sometimes they will look a little surprised, and say,
"Is that your master? indeed, we thought you had been the master of the
shop yourself."'

'Well,' said I, 'and you think yourself very happy in all this, don't you? Pray,
how long has this young gentleman to serve? how long is it before his time
will be out?' 'Oh, he has almost a year and a half to serve,' says the
shopkeeper. 'I hope, then,' said I, 'you will take care to have him knocked on
the head, as soon as his time is out.' 'God forbid,' says the honest man; 'what
do you mean by that?' 'Mean!' said I, 'why, if you don't, he will certainly
knock your trade on the head, as soon as the year and a half comes to be up.
Either you must dispose of him, as I say, or take care that he does not set up
near you, no, not in the same street; if you do, your customers will all run
thither. When they miss him in the shop, they will presently inquire for him;
and as, you say, they generally take him for the master, they will ask
whether the gentleman is removed that kept the shop before.'
All my shopkeeper could say, was, that he had got a salve for that sore, and
that was, that when Timothy was out of his time, he resolved to take him in
partner.
'A very good thing, indeed! so you must take Timothy into half the trade
when he is out of his time, for fear he should run away with three-quarters
of it, when he sets up for himself. But had not the master much better have
been Timothy himself?—then he had been sure never to have the customers
take Timothy for the master; and when he went away, and set up perhaps at
next door, leave the shop, and run after him.'
It is certain, a good servant, a faithful, industrious, obliging servant, is a
blessing to a tradesman, and, as he said, is an estate to his master; but the
master, by laying the stress of his business upon him, divests himself of all
the advantages of such a servant, and turns the blessing into a blast; for by
giving up the shop as it were to him, and indulging himself in being abroad,
and absent from his business, the apprentice gets the mastery of the
business, the fame of the shop depends upon him, and when he sets up,
certainly follows him. Such a servant would, with the master's attendance
too, be very helpful, and yet not be dangerous; such a servant is well, when
he is visibly an assistant to the master, but is ruinous when he is taken for
the master. There is a great deal of difference between a servant's being the
stay of his master, and his being the stay of his trade: when he is the first,
the master is served by him; and when he is gone, he breeds up another to

follow his steps; but when he is the last, he carries the trade with him, and
does his master infinitely more hurt than good.
A good tradesman has a great deal of trouble with a bad servant, but must
take heed that he is not wounded by a good one—the extravagant idle
vagrant servant hurts himself, but the diligent servant endangers his master.
The greater reputation the servant gets in his business, the more care the
master has upon him, lest he gets within him, and worms him out of his
business.
The only way to prevent this, and yet not injure a diligent servant, is that the
master be as diligent as the servant; that the master be as much at the shop
as the man. He that will keep in his business, need never fear keeping his
business, let his servant be as diligent as he will. It is a hard thing that a
tradesman should have the blessing of a good servant, and make it a curse
to him, by his appearing less capable than his man.
Let your apprentice be in the business, but let the master be at the head of
the business at all times. There is a great deal of difference between being
diligent in the business in the shop, and leading the whole business of the
shop. An apprentice who is diligent may be master of his business, but
should never be master of the shop; the one is to be useful to his master, the
other is to be master of his master; and, indeed, this shows the absolute
necessity of diligence and application in a tradesman, and how, for want of
it, that very thing which is the blessing of another tradesman's business is
the ruin of his.
Servants, especially apprentices, ought to be considered, as they really are,
in their moveable station, that they are here with you but seven years, and
that then they act or move in a sphere or station of their own: their diligence
is now for you, but ever after it is for themselves; that the better servants
they have been while they were with you, the more dangerous they will be
to you when you part; that, therefore, though you are bound in justice to
them to let them into your business in every branch of it, yet you are not
bound to give your business away to them; the diligence, therefore, of a
good servant in the master's business, should be a spur to the master's
diligence to take care of himself.

There is a great deal of difference also between trusting a servant in your
business, and trusting him with your business: the first is leaving your
business with him, the other is leaving your business to him. He that trusts a
servant in his business, leaves his shop only to him; but he that leaves his
business to his servant, leaves his wife and children at his disposal—in a
word, such a trusting, or leaving the business to the servant, is no less than a
giving up all to him, abandoning the care of his shop and all his affairs to
him; and when such a servant is out of his time, the master runs a terrible
risk, such as, indeed, it is not fit any tradesman should run—namely, of
losing the best of his business.
What I have been now saying, is of the tradesman leaving his business to
his apprentices and servants, when they prove good, when they are honest
and diligent, faithful, and industrious; and if there are dangers even in
trusting good servants, and such as do their duty perfectly well, what, then,
must it be when the business is left to idle, negligent, and extravagant
servants, who both neglect their masters' business and their own, who
neither learn their trade for themselves, nor regard it for the interest of their
masters? If the first are a blessing to their masters, and may only be made
dangerous by their carrying away the trade with them when they go, these
are made curses to their masters early, for they lose the trade for themselves
and their masters too. The first carry the customers away with them, the last
drive the customers away before they go. 'What signifies going to such a
shop?' say the ladies, either speaking of a mercer or a draper, or any other
trade; 'there is nothing to be met with there but a crew of saucy boys, that
are always at play when you come in, and can hardly refrain it when you
are there: one hardly ever sees a master in the shop, and the young rude
boys hardly mind you when you are looking on their goods; they talk to you
as if they cared not whether you laid out your money or no, and as if they
had rather you were gone, that they might go to play again. I will go there
no more, not I.'
If this be not the case, then you are in danger of worse still, and that is, that
they are often thieves—idle ones are seldom honest ones—nay, they cannot
indeed be honest, in a strict sense, if they are idle: but by dishonest, I mean
downright thieves; and what is more dangerous than for an apprentice, to
whom the whole business, the cash, the books, and all is committed, to be a
thief?

For a tradesman, therefore, to commit his business thus into the hand of a
false, a negligent, and a thievish servant, is like a man that travels a journey,
and takes a highwayman into the coach with him: such a man is sure to be
robbed, and to be fully and effectually plundered, because he discovers
where he hides his treasure. Thus the tradesman places his confidence in the
thief, and how should he avoid being robbed?
It is answered, that, generally tradesmen, who have any considerable trust
to put into the hands of an apprentice, take security of them for their
honesty by their friends, when their indentures are signed; and it is their
fault then, if they are not secure. True, it is often so; but in a retail business,
if the servant be unfaithful, there are so many ways to defraud a master,
besides that of merely not balancing the cash, that it is impossible to detect
them; till the tradesman, declining insensibly by the weight of the loss, is
ruined and undone.
What need, then, has the tradesman to give a close attendance, and preserve
himself from plunder, by acquainting himself in and with his business and
servants, by which he makes it very difficult for them to deceive him, and
much easier to him to discover it if he suspects them. But if the tradesman
lives abroad, keeps at his country-house or lodgings, and leaves his business
thus in the hands of his servants, committing his affairs to them, as is often
the case; if they prove thieves, negligent, careless, and idle, what is the
consequence?—he is insensibly wronged, his substance wasted, his
business neglected; and how shall a tradesman thrive under such
circumstances? Nay, how is it possible he should avoid ruin and
destruction?—I mean, as to his business; for, in short, every such servant
has his hand in his master's pocket, and may use him as he pleases.
Again, if they are not thieves, yet if they are idle and negligent, it is, in
some cases, the same thing; and I wish it were well recommended to all
such servants as call themselves honest, that it is as criminal to neglect their
master's business as to rob him; and he is as really a thief who robs him of
his time, as he that robs him of his money.
I know, as servants are now, this is a principle they will not allow, neither
does one servant in fifty act by it; but if the master be absent, the servant is
at his heels—that is to say, is as soon out of doors as his master, and having

none but his conscience to answer to, he makes shift to compound with
himself, like a bankrupt with his creditor, to pay half the debt—that is to
say, half the time to his master, and half to himself, and think it good pay
too.
The point of conscience, indeed, seems to be out of the question now,
between master and servant; and as few masters concern themselves with
the souls, nay, scarce with the morals of their servants, either to instruct
them, or inform them of their duty either to God or man, much less to
restrain them by force, or correct them, as was anciently practised, so, few
servants concern themselves in a conscientious discharge of their duty to
their masters—so that the great law of subordination is destroyed, and the
relative duties on both sides are neglected; all which, as I take it, is owing to
the exorbitant sums of money which are now given with servants to the
masters, as the present or condition of their apprenticeship, which, as it is
extravagant in itself, so it gives the servant a kind of a different figure in the
family, places him above the ordinary class of servants hired for wages, and
exempts him from all the laws of family government, so that a master
seems now to have nothing to do with his apprentice, any other than in what
relates to his business.
And as the servant knows this, so he fails not to take the advantage of it,
and to pay no more service than he thinks is due; and the hours of his shop
business being run out, he claims all the rest for himself, without the above
restraint. Nor will the servants, in these times, bear any examinations with
respect to the disposing of their waste time, or with respect to the company
they keep, or the houses or places they go to.
The use I make of it is this, and herein it is justly applicable to the case in
hand; by how much the apprentices and servants in this age are loose, wild,
and ungovernable, by so much the more should a master think himself
obliged not to depend upon them, much less to leave his business to them,
and dispense with his own attendance in it. If he does, he must have much
better luck then his neighbours, if he does not find himself very much
wronged and abused, seeing, as I said above, the servants and apprentices of
this age do very rarely act from a principle of conscience in serving their
master's interest, which, however, I do not see they can be good Christians
without.

I knew one very considerable tradesman in this city, and who had always
five or six servants in his business, apprentices and journeymen, who
lodged in his house; and having a little more the spirit of government in him
than most masters I now meet with, he took this method with them. When
he took apprentices, he told them beforehand the orders of his family, and
which he should oblige them to; particularly, that they should none be
absent from his business without leave, nor out of the house after nine
o'clock at night; and that he would not have it thought hard, if he exacted
three things of them:—
1. That, if they had been out, he should ask them where they had been, and
in what company? and that they should give him a true and direct answer.
2. That, if he found reason to forbid them keeping company with any
particular person, or in any particular house or family, they should be
obliged to refrain from such company.
3. That, in breach of any of those two, after being positively charged with it,
he would, on their promising to amend it, forgive them, only acquainting
their friends of it; but the second time, he would dismiss them his service,
and not be obliged to return any of the money he had with them. And to
these he made their parents consent when they were bound; and yet he had
large sums of money with them too, not less than £200 each, and sometimes
more.
As to his journeymen, he conditioned with them as follows:—
1. They should never dine from home without leave asked and obtained,
and telling where, if required.
2. After the shutting in of the shop, they were at liberty to go where they
pleased, only not to be out of the house after nine o'clock at night.
3. Never to be in drink, or to swear, on pain of being immediately dismissed
without the courtesy usual with such servants, namely, of a month's
warning.
These were excellent household laws; but the question is, how shall a
master see them punctually obeyed, for the life of all laws depends upon
their being well executed; and we are famous in England for being remiss in

that very point; and that we have the best laws the worst executed of any
nation in the world.
But my friend was a man who knew as well how to make his laws be well
executed, as he did how to make the laws themselves. His case was thus: he
kept a country-house about two miles from London, in the summer-time,
for the air of his wife and children, and there he maintained them very
comfortably: but it was a rule with him, that he who expects his servants to
obey his orders, must be always upon the spot with them to see it done: to
this purpose he confined himself to lie always at home, though his family
was in the country; and every afternoon he walked out to see them, and to
give himself the air too; but always so ordered his diversions, that he was
sure to be at home before nine at night, that he might call over his family,
and see that they observed orders, that is, that they were all at home at their
time, and all sober.
As this was, indeed, the only way to have good servants, and an orderly
family, so he had both; but it was owing much, if not all, to the exactness of
his government; and would all masters take the same method, I doubt not
they would have the like success; but what servants can a man expect when
he leaves them to their own government, not regarding whether they serve
God or the devil?
Now, though this man had a very regular family, and very good servants,
yet he had this particular qualification, too, for a good tradesman, namely,
that he never left his business entirely to them, nor could any of them boast
that they were trusted to more than another.
This is certainly the way to have regular servants and to have business
thrive; but this is not practised by one master to a thousand at this time—if
it were, we should soon see a change in the families of tradesmen, and that
very much for the better: nor, indeed, would this family government be
good for the tradesman only, but it would be the servant's advantage too;
and such a practice, we may say, would in time reform all the next age, and
make them ashamed of us that went before them.
If, then, the morals of servants are thus loose and debauched, and that it is a
general and epidemic evil, how much less ought tradesmen of this age to
trust them, and still less to venture their all upon them, leave their great

design, the event of all their business with them, and go into the country in
pursuit of their pleasure.
The case of tradesmen differs extremely in this age from those in the last,
with respect to their apprentices and servants; and the difference is all to the
disadvantage of the present age, namely, in the last age, that is to say, fifty
or sixty years ago, for it is not less, servants were infinitely more under
subjection than they are now, and the subordination of mankind extended
effectually to them; they were content to submit to family government; and
the just regulations which masters made in their houses were not scorned
and contemned, as they are now; family religion also had some sway upon
them; and if their masters did keep good orders, and preserve the worship of
God in their houses, the apprentices thought themselves obliged to attend at
the usual hours for such services; nay, it has been known, where such orders
have been observed, that if the master of the family has been sick, or
indisposed, or out of town, the eldest apprentice has read prayers to the
family in his place.
How ridiculous, to speak in the language of the present times, would it be
for any master to expect this of a servant in our days! and where is the
servant that would comply with it? Nay, it is but very rarely now that
masters themselves do it; it is rather thought now to be a low step, and
beneath the character of a man in business, as if worshipping God were a
disgrace, and not an honour, to a family, or to the master of a family; and I
doubt not but in a little while more, either the worship of God will be quite
banished out of families, or the better sort of tradesmen, and such as have
any regard to it, will keep chaplains, as other persons of quality do. It is
confessed, the first is most probable, though the last, as I am informed, is
already begun in the city, in some houses, where the reader of the parish is
allowed a small additional salary to come once a-day, namely, every
evening, to read prayers in the house.
But I am not talking on this subject; I am not directing myself to citizens or
townsmen, as masters of families, but as heads of trade, and masters in their
business; the other part would indeed require a whole book by itself, and
would insensibly run me into a long satirical discourse upon the loss of all
family government among us; in which, indeed, the practice of house-
keepers and heads of families is grown not remiss only in all serious things,

but even scandalous in their own morals, and in the personal examples they
show to their servants, and all about them.
But to come back to my subject, namely, that the case of tradesmen differs
extremely from what it was formerly: the second head of difference is this;
that whereas, in former times, the servants were better and humbler than
they are now, submitted more to family government, and to the regulations
made by their masters, and masters were more moral, set better examples,
and kept better order in their houses, and, by consequence of it, all servants
were soberer, and fitter to be trusted, than they are now; yet, on the other
hand, notwithstanding all their sobriety, masters did not then so much
depend upon them, leave business to them, and commit the management of
their affairs so entirely to their servants, as they do now.
All that I meet with, which masters have to say to this, is contained in two
heads, and these, in my opinion, amount to very little.
I. That they have security for their servants' honesty, which in former times
they had not.
II. That they receive greater premiums, or present-money, now with their
apprentices, than they did formerly.
The first of these is of no moment; for, first, it does not appear that
apprentices in those former days gave no security to their masters for their
integrity, which, though perhaps not so generally as now, yet I have good
reason to know was then practised among tradesmen of note, and is not now
among inferior tradesmen: but, secondly, this security extends to nothing,
but to make the master satisfaction for any misapplications or
embezzlements which are discovered, and can be proved, but extend to no
secret concealed mischiefs: neither, thirdly, do those securities reach to the
negligence, idleness, or debaucheries of servants; but, which is still more
than all the rest, they do not reach to the worst of robbery between the
servant and his master, I mean the loss of his time; so that still there is as
much reason for the master's inspection, both into his servants and their
business, as ever.
But least of all does this security reach to make the master any satisfaction
for the loss of his business, the ill management of his shop, the

disreputation brought upon it by being committed to servants, and those
servants behaving ill, slighting, neglecting, or disobliging customers; this
does not relate to securities given or taken, nor can the master make himself
any amends upon his servant, or upon his securities, for this irrecoverable
damage. He, therefore, that will keep up the reputation of his shop, or of his
business, and preserve his trade to his own advantage, must resolve to
attend it himself, and not leave it to servants, whether good or bad; if he
leaves it to good servants, they improve it for themselves, and carry the
trade away with them when they go; if to bad servants, they drive his
customers away, bring a scandal upon his shop, and destroy both their
master and themselves.
Secondly, As to the receiving great premiums with their apprentices, which,
indeed, is grown up to a strange height in this age, beyond whatever it was
before, it is an unaccountable excess, which is the ruin of more servants at
this time than all the other excesses they are subject to, nay, in some respect
it is the cause of it all; and, on the contrary, is far from being an equivalent
to their masters for the defect of their service, but is an unanswerable reason
why the master should not leave his business to their management.
This premium was originally not a condition of indenture, but was a kind of
usual or customary present to the tradesman's wife to engage her to be kind
to the youth, and take a motherly care of him, being supposed to be young
when first put out.
By length of time this compliment or present became so customary as to be
made a debt, and to be conditioned for as a demand, but still was kept
within bounds, and thirty or forty pounds was sufficient to a very good
merchant, which now is run up to five hundred, nay, to a thousand pounds
with an apprentice; a thing which formerly would have been thought
monstrous, and not to be named.
The ill consequences of giving these large premiums are such and so many,
that it is not to be entered upon in such a small tract as this; nor is it the
design of this work: but it is thus far to the purpose here—namely, as it
shows that this sets up servants into a class of gentlemen above their
masters, and above their business; and they neither have a sufficient regard
to one or other, and consequently are the less fit to be trusted by the master

in the essential parts of his business; and this brings it down to the case in
hand.
Upon the whole, the present state of things between masters and servants is
such, that now more than ever the caution is needful and just, that he that
leaves his business to the management of his servants, it is ten to one but he
ruins his business and his servants too.
Ruining his business is, indeed, my present subject; but ruining his servants
also is a consideration that an honest, conscientious master ought to think is
of weight with him, and will concern himself about. Servants out of
government are like soldiers without an officer, fit for nothing but to rob
and plunder; without order, and without orders, they neither know what to
do, or are directed how to do it.
Besides, it is letting loose his apprentices to levity and liberty in that
particular critical time of life, when they have the most need of government
and restraint. When should laws and limits be useful to mankind but in their
youth, when unlimited liberty is most fatal to them, and when they are least
capable of governing themselves? To have youth left without government,
is leaving fire in a magazine of powder, which will certainly blow it all up
at last, and ruin all the houses that are near it.
If there is any duty on the side of a master to his servant, any obligation on
him as a Christian, and as a trustee for his parents, it lies here—to limit and
restrain them, if possible, in the liberty of doing evil; and this is certainly a
debt due to the trust reposed in masters by the parents of the youth
committed to them. If he is let loose here, he is undone, of course, and it
may be said, indeed, he was ruined by his master; and if the master is
afterwards ruined by such a servant, what can be said for it but this? He
could expect no other.
To leave a youth without government is indeed unworthy of any honest
master; he cannot discharge himself as a master; for instead of taking care
of him he indeed casts him off, abandons him, and, to put it into Scripture
words, he leads him into temptation: nay, he goes farther, to use another
Scripture expression: he delivers him over to Satan.

It is confessed—and it is fatal both to masters and servants at this time—
that not only servants are made haughty, and above the government of their
masters, and think it below them to submit to any family government, or
any restraints of their masters, as to their morals and religion; but masters
also seem to have given up all family government, and all care or concern
for the morals and manners, as well as for the religion of their servants,
thinking themselves under no obligation to meddle with those things, or to
think any thing about them, so that their business be but done, and their
shop or warehouse duly looked after.
But to bring it all home to the point in hand, if it is so with the master and
servant, there is the less room still for the master of such servants to leave
any considerable trust in the hands of such apprentices, or to expect much
from them, to leave the weight of their affairs with them, and, living at their
country lodgings, and taking their own diversions, depend upon such
servants for the success of their business. This is indeed abandoning their
business, throwing it away, and committing themselves, families, and
fortunes, to the conduct of those, who, they have all the reason in the world
to believe, have no concern upon them for their good, or care one farthing
what becomes of them.

CHAPTER XIII
OF TRADESMEN MAKING COMPOSITION WITH DEBTORS, OR
WITH CREDITORS

There is an alternative in the subject of this chapter, which places the
discourse in the two extremes of a tradesman's fortunes.
I. The fortunate tradesman, called upon by his poor unfortunate neighbour,
who is his debtor, and is become insolvent, to have compassion on him, and
to compound with him for part of his debt, and accept his offer in discharge
of the whole.
II. The unfortunate tradesman become insolvent and bankrupt himself, and
applying himself to his creditor to accept of a composition, in discharge of
his debt.
I must confess, a tradesman, let his circumstances be what they will, has the
most reason to consider the disasters of the unfortunate, and be
compassionate to them under their pressures and disasters, of any other
men; because they know not—no, not the most prosperous of them—what
may be their own fate in the world. There is a Scripture proverb, if I may
call it so, very necessary to a tradesman in this case, 'Let him that thinketh
he standeth, take heed lest he fall.'
N.B. It is not said, let him that standeth take heed, but him that thinketh he
standeth. Men in trade can but think they stand; and there are so many
incidents in a tradesman's circumstances, that sometimes when he thinks
himself most secure of standing, he is in most danger of falling.
If, then, the contingent nature of trade renders every man liable to disaster
that is engaged in it, it seems strange that tradesmen should be outrageous
and unmerciful to one another when they fall; and yet so it is, that no
creditor is so furious upon an unhappy insolvent tradesman, as a brother-

tradesman of his own class, and who is at least liable to the same disaster, in
the common event of his business.
Nay, I have lived to see—such is the uncertainty of human affairs, and
especially in trade—the furious and outrageous creditor become bankrupt
himself in a few years, or perhaps months after, and begging the same
mercy of others, which he but just before denied to his not more unfortunate
fellow-tradesman, and making the same exclamations at the cruelty and
hard-heartedness of his creditors in refusing to comply with him, when, at
the same time, his own heart must reproach him with his former conduct;
how inexorable he was to all the entreaties and tears of his miserable
neighbour and his distressed family, who begged his compassion with the
lowest submission, who employed friends to solicit and entreat for them,
laying forth their misery in the most lively expressions, and using all the
arguments which the most moving distress could dictate, but in vain.
The tradesman is certainly wrong in this, as compassion to the miserable is
a debt of charity due from all mankind to their fellow-creatures; and though
the purse-proud tradesman may be able to say he is above the fear of being
in the like circumstances, as some may be, yet, even then, he might reflect
that perhaps there was a time when he was not so, and he ought to pay that
debt of charity, in acknowledgement of the mercy that has set him above the
danger.
And yet, speaking in the ordinary language of men who are subject to
vicissitudes of fortune, where is the man that is sure he shall meet with no
shock? And how have we seen men, who have to-day been immensely rich,
be to-morrow, as it were, reduced to nothing! What examples were made in
this city of such precipitations within the memory of some living, when the
Exchequer shutting up ruined the great bankers of Lombard Street.[23] To
what fell Sir Robert Viner—the great Alderman Backwell—the three
brothers of the name of Forth, of whom King Charles II. made that severe
pun, that 'Three-fourths of the city were broke?'
To what have we seen men of prodigious bulk in trade reduced—as Sir
Thomas Cook, Sir Basil Firebrass, Sheppard, Coggs, and innumerable
bankers, money-scriveners, and merchants, who thought themselves as
secure against the shocks of trade, as any men in the world could be? Not to

instance our late South Sea directors, and others, reduced by the terrible fate
of bubbles, whose names I omit because they yet live, though sinking still
under the oppression of their fortunes, and whose weight I would be far
from endeavouring to make heavier.
Why, then, should any tradesman, presuming on his own security, and of his
being out of the reach of disaster, harden his heart against the miseries and
distresses of a fellow-tradesman, who sinks, as it were, by his side, and
refuse to accept his offer of composition; at least, if he cannot object against
the integrity of his representations, and cannot charge him with fraud and
deceit, breaking with a wicked design to cheat and delude his creditors, and
to get money by a pretended breach? I say, why should any tradesman
harden his heart in such a case, and not, with a generous pity, comply with a
reasonable and fair proposal, while it is to be had?
I do acknowledge, if there is an evident fraud, if he can detect the bankrupt
in any wicked design, if he can prove he has effects sufficient to pay his
debts, and that he only breaks with a purpose to cheat his creditors, and he
conceals a part of his estate, when he seems to offer a sincere surrender; if
this be the case, and it can be made appear to be so—for in such a case, too,
we ought to be very sure of the fact—then, indeed, no favour is due, and
really none ought to be shown.
And, therefore, it was a very righteous clause which was inflicted on the
fraudulent bankrupt, in a late act of Parliament, namely, that in case he
concealed his effects, and that it appeared he had, though upon his oath, not
given in a full account of his estate, but willingly and knowingly concealed
it, or any part of it, with design to defraud his creditors, he should be put to
death as a felon: the reason and justice of which clause was this, and it was
given as the reason of it when the act was passed in the House of
Commons, namely, that the act was made for the relief of the debtor, as well
as of the creditor, and to procure for him a deliverance on a surrender of his
effects; but then it was made also for the relief of the creditor, too, that he
might have as much of his debt secured to him as possible, and that he
should not discharge the debtor with his estate in his pocket, suffering him
to run away with his (the creditor's) money before his face.

Also it was objected, that the act, without a penalty, would be only an act to
encourage perjury, and would deliver the hard-mouthed knave that could
swear what he pleased, and ruin and reject the modest conscientious
tradesman, that was willing and ready to give up the utmost farthing to his
creditors. On this account the clause was accepted, and the act passed,
which otherwise had been thrown out.
Now, when the poor insolvent has thus surrendered his all, stript himself
entirely upon oath, and that oath taken on the penalty of death if it be false,
there seems to be a kind of justice due to the bankrupt. He has satisfied the
law, and ought to have his liberty given him as a prey, as the text calls it,
Jer. xxxix. 18., that he may try the world once again, and see, if possible, to
recover his disasters, and get his bread; and it is to be spoken in honour of
the justice as well as humanity of that law for delivering bankrupts, that
there are more tradesmen recover themselves in this age upon their second
endeavours, and by setting up again after they have thus failed and been
delivered, than ever were known to do so in ten times the number of years
before.
To break, or turn bankrupt, before this, was like a man being taken by the
Turks; he seldom recovered liberty to try his fortune again, but frequently
languished under the tyranny of the commissioners of bankrupt, or in the
Mint, or Friars, or rules of the Fleet, till he wasted the whole estate, and at
length his life, and so his debts were all paid at once.
Nor was the case of the creditor much better—I mean as far as respected his
debt, for it was very seldom that any considerable dividend was made; on
the other hand, large contributions were called for before people knew
whether it was likely any thing would be made of the debtor's effects or no,
and oftentimes the creditor lost his whole debt, contribution-money and all;
so that while the debtor was kept on the rack, as above, being held in
suspense by the creditors, or by the commissioners, or both, he spent the
creditor's effects, and subsisted at their expense, till, the estate being
wasted, the loss fell heavy on every side, and generally most on those who
were least able to bear it.
By the present state of things, this evil is indeed altered, and the ruin of the
creditor's effects is better prevented; the bankrupt can no more skulk behind

the door of the Mint and Rules, and prevent the commissioners' inspection;
he must come forth, be examined, give in an account, and surrender himself
and effects too, or fly his country, and be seen here no more; and if he does
come in, he must give a full account upon oath, on the penalty of his neck.
When the effects are thus surrendered, the commissioners' proceedings are
short and summary. The assignees are obliged to make dividends, and not
detain the estate in their own hands, as was the case in former days, till
sometimes they became bankrupts themselves, so that the creditors are sure
now what is put into the hands of the assignees, shall in due time, and
without the usual delay, be fairly divided. On the other hand, the poor
debtor having honestly discharged his part, and no objection lying against
the sincerity of the discovery, has a certificate granted him, which being
allowed by the Lord Chancellor, he is a clear man, and may begin the world
again, as I have said above.
The creditor, being thus satisfied that the debtor has been faithful, does not
answer the end of the act of Parliament, if he declines to assent to the
debtor's certificate; nor can any creditor decline it, but on principles which
no man cares to own—namely, that of malice, and the highest resentment,
which are things a Christian tradesman will not easily act upon.
But I come now to the other part of the case; and this is supposing a debtor
fails, and the creditors do not think fit to take out a commission of bankrupt
against him, as sometimes is the case, at least, where they see the offers of
the debtor are any thing reasonable: my advice in such case is (and I speak
it from long experience in such things), that they should always accept the
first reasonable proposal of the debtor; and I am not in this talking on the
foot of charity and mercy to the debtor, but of the real and undoubted
interest of the creditor; nor could I urge it, by such arguments as I shall
bring, upon any other foundation; for, if I speak in behalf of the debtor, I
must argue commiseration to the miserable, compassion and pity of his
family, and a reflection upon the sad changes which human life exposes us
all to, and so persuade the creditor to have pity upon not him only, but upon
all families in distress.
But, I say, I argue now upon a different foundation, and insist that it is the
creditor's true interest, as I hinted before, that if he finds the debtor inclined

to be honest, and he sees reason to believe he makes the best offer he can,
he should accept the first offer, as being generally the best the debtor can
make;[24] and, indeed, if the debtor be wise as well as honest, he will make
it so, and generally it is found to be so. And there are, indeed, many reasons
why the first offers of the debtor are generally the best, and why no
commission of bankrupt ordinarily raises so much, notwithstanding all its
severities, as the bankrupt offers before it is sued out—not reckoning the
time and expense which, notwithstanding all the new methods, attend such
things, and are inevitable. For example—
When the debtor, first looking into his affairs, sees the necessity coming
upon him of making a stop in trade, and calling his creditors together, the
first thought which by the consequence of the thing comes to be considered,
is, what offers he can make to them to avoid the having a commission sued
out against him, and to which end common prudence, as well as honest
principles, move him to make the best offers he can. If he be a man of
sense, and, according to what I mentioned in another chapter, has prudently
come to a stop in time, before things are run to extremities, and while he
has something left to make an offer of that may be considerable, he will
seldom meet with creditors so weak or so blind to their own interest not to
be willing to end it amicably, rather than to proceed to a commission. And
as this is certainly best both for the debtor and the creditor, so, as I argued
with the debtor, that he should be wise enough, as well as honest enough, to
break betimes, and that it was infinitely best for his own interest, so I must
add, on the other hand, to the creditor, that it is always his interest to accept
the first offer; and I never knew a commission make more of an estate,
where the debtor has been honest, than he (the debtor) proposed to give
them without it.
It is true, there are cases where the issuing out a commission may be
absolutely necessary. For example—
1. Where the debtor is evidently knavish, and discovers himself to be so, by
endeavours to carry off his effects, or alter the property of the estate,
confessing judgments, or any the usual ways of fraud, which in such cases
are ordinarily practised. Or—

2. Where some creditors, by such judgments, or by attachments of debts,
goods delivered, effects made over, or any other way, have gotten some of
the estate into their hands, or securities belonging to it, whereby they are in
a better state, as to payment, than the rest. Or—
3. Where some people are brought in as creditors, whose debts there is
reason to believe are not real, but who place themselves in the room of
creditors, in order to receive a dividend for the use of the bankrupt, or some
of his family.
In these, and such like cases, a commission is inevitable, and must be taken
out; nor does the man merit to be regarded upon the foot of what I call
compassion and commiseration at all, but ought to be treated like a
rapparee,[25] or plunderer, who breaks with a design to make himself whole
by the composition; and as many did formerly, who were beggars when
they broke, be made rich by the breach. It was to provide against such
harpies as these that the act of Parliament was made; and the only remedy
against them is a commission, in which the best thing they can do for their
creditors is to come in and be examined, give in a false account upon oath,
be discovered, convicted of it, and sent to the gallows, as they deserve.
But I am speaking of honest men, the reverse of such thieves as these, who
being brought into distress by the ordinary calamities of trade, are willing to
do the utmost to satisfy their creditors. When such as these break in the
tradesman's debt, let him consider seriously my advice, and he shall find—I
might say, he shall always find, but I do affirm, he shall generally find—the
first offer the best, and that he will never lose by accepting it. To refuse it is
but pushing the debtor to extremities, and running out some of the effects to
secure the rest.
First, as to collecting in the debts. Supposing the man is honest, and they
can trust him, it is evident no man can make so much of them as the
bankrupt. (1.) He knows the circumstances of the debtors, and how best to
manage them; he knows who he may best push at, and who best forbear.
(2.) He can do it with the least charge; the commissioners or assignees must
employ other people, such as attorneys, solicitors, &c., and they are paid
dear. The bankrupt sits at home, and by letters into the country, or by
visiting them, if in town, can make up every account, answer every

objection, judge of every scruple, and, in a word, with ease, compared to
what others must do, brings them to comply.
Next, as to selling off a stock of goods. The bankrupt keeps open the shop,
disperses or disposes of the goods with advantage; whereas the commission
brings all to a sale, or an outcry, or an appraisement, and all sinks the value
of the stock; so that the bankrupt can certainly make more of the stock than
any other person (always provided he is honest, as I said before), and much
more than the creditors can do.
For these reasons, and many others, the bankrupt is able to make a better
offer upon his estate than the creditors can expect to raise any other way;
and therefore it is their interest always to take the first offer, if they are
satisfied there is no fraud in it, and that the man has offered any thing near
the extent of what he has left in the world to offer from.
If, then, it be the tradesman's interest to accept of the offer made, there
needs no stronger argument to be used with him for the doing it; and
nothing is more surprising to me than to see tradesmen, the hardest to come
into such compositions, and to push on severities against other tradesmen,
as if they were out of the reach of the shocks of fortune themselves, or that
it was impossible for them ever to stand in need of the same mercy—the
contrary to which I have often seen.
To what purpose should tradesmen push things to extremities against
tradesmen, if nothing is to be gotten by it, and if the insolvent tradesman
will take proper measures to convince the creditor that his intentions are
honest? The law was made for offenders; there needs no law for innocent
men: commissions are granted to manage knaves, and hamper and entangle
cunning and designing rogues, who seek to raise fortunes out of their
creditors' estates, and exalt themselves by their own downfall; they are not
designed against honest men, neither, indeed, is there any need of them for
such.
Let no man mistake this part, therefore, and think that I am moving
tradesmen to be easy and compassionate to rogues and cheats: I am far from
it, and have given sufficient testimony of the contrary; having, I assure you,
been the only person who actually formed, drew up, and first proposed that
very cause to the House of Commons, which made it felony to the bankrupt

to give in a false account. It cannot, therefore, be suggested, without
manifest injustice, that I would with one breath prompt creditors to be easy
to rogues, and to cheating fraudulent bankrupts, and with another make a
proposal to have them hanged.
But I move the creditor, on account of his own interest, always to take the
first offer, if he sees no palpable fraud in it, or sees no reason to suspect
such fraud; and my reason is good, namely, because I believe, as I said
before, it is generally the best.
I know there is a new method of putting an end to a tradesman's troubles, by
that which was formerly thought the greatest of all troubles; I mean a
fraudulent method, or what they call taking out friendly statutes; that is,
when tradesmen get statutes taken out against themselves, moved first by
some person in kindness to them, and done at the request of the bankrupt
himself. This is generally done when the circumstances of the debtor are
very low, and he has little or nothing to surrender; and the end is, that the
creditors may be obliged to take what there is, and the man may get a full
discharge.
This is, indeed, a vile corruption of a good law, and turning the edge of the
act against the creditor, not against the debtor; and as he has nothing to
surrender, they get little or nothing, and the man is as effectually discharged
as if he had paid twenty shillings in the pound; and so he is in a condition to
set up again, take fresh credit, break again, and have another commission
against him; and so round, as often as he thinks fit. This, indeed, is a fraud
upon the act, and shows that all human wisdom is imperfect, that the law
wants some repairs, and that it will in time come into consideration again,
to be made capable of disappointing the people that intend to make such use
of it.
I think there is also wanting a law against twice breaking, and that all
second commissions should have some penalty upon the bankrupt, and a
third a farther penalty, and if the fourth brought the man to the gallows, it
could not be thought hard; for he that has set up and broke, and set up
again, and broke again, and the like, a third time, I think merits to be
hanged, if he pretends to venture any more.

Most of those crimes against which any laws are published in particular,
and which are not capital, have generally an addition of punishment upon a
repetition of the crime, and so on—a further punishment to a further
repetition. I do not see why it should not be so here; and I doubt not but it
would have a good effect upon tradesmen, to make them cautious, and to
warn them to avoid such scandalous doings as we see daily practised,
breaking three or four, or five times over; and we see instances of some
such while I am writing this very chapter.
To such, therefore, I am so far from moving for any favour, either from the
law, or from their creditors, that I think the only deficiency of the law at this
time is, that it does not reach to inflict a corporal punishment in such a case,
but leaves such insolvents to fare well, in common with those whose
disasters are greater, and who, being honest and conscientious, merit more
favour, but do not often find it.
FOOTNOTES:
[23]
[This event took place in 1671, Charles II. finding it necessary to
suspend the national payments for a year.]

[24]
[The truth of this continues to be matter of daily observation in
our own times.]

[25]
[A name applied, in the seventeenth century, to a certain class of
robbers in Ireland.]

CHAPTER XIV
OF THE UNFORTUNATE TRADESMAN COMPOUNDING WITH HIS
CREDITORS

This is what in the last chapter I called an alternative to that of the fortunate
tradesman yielding to accept the composition of his insolvent debtor.
The poor unhappy tradesman, having long laboured in the fire, and finding
it is in vain to struggle, but that whether he strives or not strives, he must
break; that he does but go backward more and more, and that the longer he
holds out, he shall have the less to offer, and be the harder thought of, as
well as the harder dealt with—resolves to call his creditors together in time,
while there is something considerable to offer them, and while he may have
some just account to give of himself, and of his conduct, and that he may
not be reproached with having lived on the spoil, and consumed their
estates; and thus, being satisfied that the longer he puts the evil day from
him, the heavier it will fall when it comes; I say, he resolves to go no
farther, and so gets a friend to discourse with and prepare them, and then
draws up a state of his case to lay before them.
First, He assures them that he has not wasted his estate, either by vice and
immorality, or by expensive and riotous living, luxury, extravagance, and
the like.
Secondly, He makes it appear that he has met with great losses, such as he
could not avoid; and yet such and so many, that he has not been able to
support the weight of them.
Thirdly, That he could have stood it out longer, but that he was sensible if
he did, he should but diminish the stock, which, considering his debts, was
properly not his own; and that he was resolved not to spend one part of their
debts, as he had lost the other.

Fourthly, That he is willing to show them his books, and give up every
farthing into their hands, that they might see he acted the part of an honest
man to them. And,
Fifthly, That upon his doing so, they will find, that there is in goods and
good debts sufficient to pay them fifteen shillings in the pound; after which,
and when he has made appear that they have a faithful and just account of
every thing laid before them, he hopes they will give him his liberty, that he
may try to get his bread, and to maintain his family in the best manner he
can; and, if possible, to pay the remainder of the debt.
You see I go all the way upon the suggestion of the poor unfortunate
tradesman being critically honest, and showing himself so to the full
satisfaction of his creditors; that he shows them distinctly a true state of his
case, and offers his books and vouchers to confirm every part of his
account.
Upon the suggestion of his being thus sincerely honest, and allowing that
the state of his account comes out so well as to pay fifteen shillings in the
pound, what and who but a parcel of outrageous hot-headed men would
reject such a man? What would they be called, nay, what would they say of
themselves, if they should reject such a composition, and should go and
take out a commission of bankrupt against such a man? I never knew but
one of the like circumstances, that was refused by his creditors; and that one
held them out, till they were all glad to accept of half what they said should
be first paid them: so may all those be served, who reject such wholesome
advice, and the season for accepting a good offer, when it was made them.
But I return to the debtor.
When he looks into his books, he finds himself declined, his own fortune
lost, and his creditors' stock in his hands wasted in part, and still wasting,
his trade being for want of stock much fallen off, and his family expense
and house-rent great; so he draws up the general articles thus:—

STOCK DEBTOR

To cash of my father (being my stock) to begin with in
trade£800 0 0

To cash of my father-in-law, being my wife's portion
600 0 0
To household-goods, plate, &c. of both
100 0 0
To profits in trade for ten years, as by the yearly
balance
in the journal appears
2469 10 0
To debts abroad esteemed good, as by the ledger appears
1357 8 0
To goods in the warehouse at the prime cost
672 12 0
Plate and some small jewels of my wife's left, and old
household-goods altogether
103 0 0

-----------

£6102 10 0
Estate deficient to balance
1006 2 0

-----------

£7108 12 0
STOCK CREDITOR

By losses by bad debts in trade, in the year 1715
£ 50 0 0
By do. 1716
66 10 0
By do. 1717
234 15 0
By do. 1718
43 0 0
By do. 1719
25 0 0
By do. by the South Sea stock, 1720
1280 0 0
By do. in trade, 1721
42 0 0
By do. 1722
106 0 0
By do. 1723
302 0 0
By do. 1724
86 15 0
By house-keeping and expenses, taxes included, as by the

cash-book appears, for ten years
1836 12 0
By house-rents at £50 per annum
500 0 0
By credits now owing to sundry persons, as by the ledger
appears
2536 0 0
-
------------

£7108 12 0

=============

This account is drawn out to satisfy himself how his condition stands, and
what it is he ought to do: upon the stating which account he sees to his
affliction that he has sunk all his own fortune and his wife's, and is a
thousand pounds worse than nothing in the world; and that, being obliged to
live in the same house for the sake of his business and warehouse, though
the rent is too great for him, his trade being declined, his credit sunk, and
his family being large, he sees evidently he cannot go on, and that it will
only be bringing things from bad to worse; and, above all the rest, being
greatly perplexed in his mind that he is spending other people's estates, and
that the bread he eats is not his own, he resolves to call his creditors all
together, lay before them the true state of his case, and lie at their mercy for
the rest.
The account of his present and past fortune standing as it did, and as
appears above, the result is as follows, namely, that he has not sufficient to
pay all his creditors, though his debts should prove to be all good, and the
goods in his warehouse should be fully worth the price they cost, which,
being liable to daily contingencies, add to the reasons which pressed him
before to make an offer of surrender to his creditors both of his goods and
debts, and to give up all into their hands.
The state of his case, as to his debts and credits, stands as follows:—
His debts esteemed good, as by the ledger, are
£1357 8 0
His goods in the warehouse
672 12 0
---
----------

£2030 0 0

His creditors demands, as by the same ledger
appears, are
£3036 0 0

This amounts to fifteen shillings in the pound upon all his debts, which, if
the creditors please to appoint an assignee or trustee to sell the goods, and
collect the debts, he is willing to surrender wholly into their hands, hoping
they will, as a favour, give him his household goods, as in the account, for
his family use, and his liberty, that he may seek out for some employment
to get his bread.
The account being thus clear, the books exactly agreeing, and the man
appearing to have acted openly and fairly, the creditors meet, and, after a
few consultations, agree to accept his proposals, and the man is a free man
immediately, gets fresh credit, opens his shop again, and, doubling his
vigilance and application in business, he recovers in a few years, grows
rich; then, like an honest man still, he calls all his creditors together again,
tells them he does not call them now to a second composition, but to tell
them, that having, with God's blessing and his own industry, gotten enough
to enable him, he was resolved to pay them the remainder of his old debt;
and accordingly does so, to the great joy of his creditors, to his own very
great honour, and to the encouragement of all honest men to take the same
measures. It is true, this does not often happen, but there have been
instances of it, and I could name several within my own knowledge.
But here comes an objection in the way, as follows: It is true this man did
very honestly, and his creditors had a great deal of reason to be satisfied
with his just dealing with them; but is every man bound thus to strip himself
naked? Perhaps this man at the same time had a family to maintain, and had
he no debt of justice to them, but to beg his household goods back of them
for his poor family, and that as an alms?-and would he not have fared as
well, if he had offered his creditors ten shillings in the pound, and took all
the rest upon himself, and then he had reserved to himself sufficient to have
supported himself in any new undertaking?
The answer to this is short and plain, and no debtor can be at a loss to know
his way in it, for otherwise people may make difficulties where there are

none; the observing the strict rules of justice and honesty will chalk out his
way for him.
The man being deficient in stock, and his estate run out to a thousand
pounds worse than nothing by his losses, &c, it is evident all he has left is
the proper estate of his creditors, and he has no right to one shilling of it; he
owes it them, it is a just debt to them, and he ought to discharge it fairly, by
giving up all into their hands, or at least to offer to do so.
But to put the case upon a new foot; as he is obliged to make an offer, as
above, to put all his effects, books, and goods into their power, so he may
add an alternative to them thus, namely—that if, on the other hand, they do
not think proper to take the trouble, or run the risk, of collecting the debts,
and selling the goods, which may be difficult, if they will leave it to him to
do it, he will undertake to pay them—shillings in the pound, and stand to
the hazard both of debts and goods.
Having thus offered the creditors their choice, if they accept the proposal of
a certain sum, as sometimes I know they have chosen to do, rather than to
have the trouble of making assignees, and run the hazard of the debts, when
put into lawyers' hands to collect, and of the goods, to sell them by
appraisement; if, I say, they choose this, and offer to discharge the debtor
upon payment, suppose it be of ten or twelve shillings in the pound in
money, within a certain time, or on giving security for the payment; then,
indeed, the debtor is discharged in conscience, and may lawfully and
honestly take the remainder as a gift given him by his creditors for
undertaking their business, or securing the remainder of their debt to them
—I say, the debtor may do this with the utmost satisfaction to his
conscience.
But without thus putting it into the creditors' choice, it is a force upon them
to offer them any thing less than the utmost farthing that he is able to pay;
and particularly to pretend to make an offer as if it were his utmost, and, as
is usual, make protestations that it is the most he is able to pay (indeed,
every offer of a composition is a kind of protestation that the debtor is not
able to pay any more)—I say, to offer thus, and declare he offers as much as
possible, and as much as the effects he has left will produce, if his effects
are able to produce more, he is then a cheat; for he acts then like one that

stands at bay with his creditors, make an offer, and if the creditors do not
think fit to accept of it, they must take what methods they think they can
take to get more; that is to say, he bids open defiance to their statutes and
commissions of bankrupt, and any other proceedings: like a town besieged,
which offers to capitulate and to yield upon such and such articles; which
implies, that if those articles are not accepted, the garrison will defend
themselves to the last extremity, and do all the mischief to the assailants
that they can.
Now, this in a garrison-town, I say, may be lawful and fair, but in a debtor
to his creditor it is quite another thing: for, as I have said above, the debtor
has no property in the effects which he has in his hands; they are the goods
and the estate of the creditor; and to hold out against the creditor, keep his
estate by violence, and make him accept of a small part of it, when the
debtor has a larger part in his power, and is able to give it—this is not fair,
much less is it honest and conscientious; but it is still worse to do this, and
at the same time to declare that it is the utmost the debtor can do; this, I say,
is still more dishonest, because it is not true, and is adding falsehood to the
other injustice.
Thus, I think, I have stated the case clearly, for the conduct of the debtor;
and, indeed, this way of laying all before the creditors, and putting it into
their choice, seems a very happy method for the comfort of the debtor, cast
down and dejected with the weight of his circumstances; and, it may be,
with the reproaches of his own conscience too, that he has not done
honestly in running out the effects of his creditors, and making other
families suffer by him, and perhaps poor families too—I say, this way of
giving up all with an honest and single desire to make all the satisfaction he
is able to his creditors, greatly heals the breach in his peace, which his
circumstances had made before; for, by now doing all that is in his power,
he makes all possible amends for what is past, I mean as to men; and they
are induced, by this open, frank usage, to give him the reward of his
honesty, and freely forgive him the rest of the debt.
There is a manifest difference to the debtor, in point of conscience, between
surrendering his whole effects, or estate, to his creditors for satisfaction of
their debts, and offering them a composition, unless, as I have said, the
composition is offered, as above, to the choice of the creditor. By

surrendering the whole estate, the debtor acknowledges the creditors' right
to all he has in his possession, and gives it up to them as their own, putting
it in their full power to dispose of it as they please.
But, by a composition, the debtor, as I have said above, stands at bay with
the creditors, and, keeping their estates in his hands, capitulates with them,
as it were, sword in hand, telling them he can give them no more, when
perhaps, and too often it is the case, it is apparent that he is in condition to
offer more. Now, let the creditors consent to these proposals, be what it
will; and, however voluntary it may be pretended to be, it is evident that a
force is the occasion of it, and the creditor complies, and accepts the
proposal, upon the supposition that no better conditions can be had. It is the
plain language of the thing, for no man accepts of less than he thinks he can
get: if he believed he could have more, he would certainly get it if he could.
And if the debtor is able to pay one shilling more than he offers, it is a
cheat, a palpable fraud, and of so much he actually robs his creditor. But in
a surrender the case is altered in all its parts; the debtor says to his creditors,
'Gentlemen, there is a full and faithful account of all I have left; it is your
own, and there it is; I am ready to put it into your hands, or into the hands
of whomsoever you shall appoint to receive it, and to lie at your mercy.'
This is all the man is able to do, and therefore is so far honest; whether the
methods that reduced him were honest or no, that is a question by itself. If
on this surrender he finds the creditors desirous rather to have it digested
into a composition, and that they will voluntarily come into such a proposal,
then, as above, they being judges of the equity of the composition, and of
what ability the debtor is to perform it, and, above all, of what he may or
may not gain by it, if they accept of such a composition, instead of the
surrender of his effects, then the case alters entirely, and the debtor is
acquitted in conscience, because the creditor had a fair choice, and the
composition is rather their proposal to the debtor, than the debtor's proposal
to them.
Thus, I think, I have stated the case of justice and conscience on the debtor's
behalf, and cleared up his way, in case of a necessity, to stop trading, that he
may break without wounding his conscience, as well as his fortunes; and he
that thinks fit to act thus, will come off with the reputation of an honest
man, and will have the favour of his creditors to begin again, with whatever

he may have as to stock; and sometimes that favour is better to him than a
stock, and has been the raising of many a broken tradesman, so that his
latter end has been better than his beginning.

CHAPTER XV
OF TRADESMEN RUINING ONE ANOTHER BY RUMOUR AND
CLAMOUR, BY SCANDAL AND REPROACH

I have dwelt long upon the tradesman's management of himself, in order to
his due preserving both his business and his reputation: let me bestow one
chapter upon the tradesman for his conduct among his neighbours and
fellow-tradesmen.
Credit is so much a tradesman's blessing that it is the choicest ware he deals
in, and he cannot be too chary of it when he has it, or buy it too dear when
he wants it; it is a stock to his warehouse, it is current money in his cash-
chest, it accepts all his bills, for it is on the fund of his credit that he has any
bills to accept; demands would else be made upon the spot, and he must pay
for his goods before he has them—therefore, I say, it accepts all his bills,
and oftentimes pays them too; in a word, it is the life and soul of his trade,
and it requires his utmost vigilance to preserve it.
If, then, his own credit should be of so much value to him, and he should be
so nice in his concern about it, he ought in some degree to have the same
care of his neighbour's. Religion teaches us not to slander and defame our
neighbour, that is to say, not to raise or promote any slander or scandal upon
his good name. As a good name is to another man, and which the wise man
says, 'is better than life,' the same is credit to a tradesman—it is the life of
his trade; and he that wounds a tradesman's credit without cause, is as much
a murderer in trade, as he that kills a man in the dark is a murderer in
matters of blood.
Besides, there is a particular nicety in the credit of a tradesman, which does
not reach in other cases: a man is slandered in his character, or reputation,
and it is injurious; and if it comes in the way of a marriage, or of a
preferment, or post, it may disappoint and ruin him; but if this happens to a
tradesman, he is immediately and unavoidably blasted and undone; a

tradesman has but two sorts of enemies to encounter with, namely, thieves
breaking open his shop, and ill neighbours blackening and blasting his
reputation; and the latter are the worst thieves of the two, by a great deal;
and, therefore, people should indeed be more chary of their discourse of
tradesmen, than of other men, and that as they would not be guilty of
murder. I knew an author of a book, who was drawn in unwarily, and
without design, to publish a scandalous story of a tradesman in London. He
(the author) was imposed upon by a set of men, who did it maliciously, and
he was utterly ignorant of the wicked design; nor did he know the person,
but rashly published the thing, being himself too fond of a piece of news,
which he thought would be grateful to his readers; nor yet did he publish
the person's name, so cautious he was, though that was not enough, as it
proved, for the person was presently published by those who had
maliciously done it.
The scandal spread; the tradesman, a flourishing man, and a considerable
dealer, was run upon by it with a torrent of malice; a match which he was
about with a considerable fortune was blasted and prevented, and that
indeed was the malicious end of the people that did it; nor did it stop there
—it brought his creditors upon him, it ruined him, it brought out a
commission of bankrupt against him, it broke his heart, and killed him; and
after his death, his debts and effects coming in, there appeared to be seven
shillings in the pound estate, clear and good over and above all demands, all
his debts discharged, and all the expenses of the statute paid.
It was to no purpose that the man purged himself of the crime laid to his
charge—that the author, who had ignorantly and rashly published the
scandal, declared himself ignorant; the man was run down by a torrent of
reproach; scandal oppressed him; he was buried alive in the noise and dust
raised both against his morals and his credit, and yet his character was
proved good, and his bottom in trade was so too, as I have said above.
It is not the least reason of my publishing this to add, that even the person
who was ignorantly made the instrument of publishing the scandal, was not
able to retrieve it, or to prevent the man's ruin by all the public reparation he
could make in print, and by all the acknowledgement he could make of his
having been ignorantly drawn in to do it. And this I mention for the honest
tradesman's caution, and to put him in mind, that when he has unwarily let

slip anything to the wounding the reputation of his neighbour tradesman,
whether in his trading credit, or the credit of his morals, it may not be in his
power to unsay it again, that is, so as to prevent the ruin of the person; and
though it may grieve him as long as he lives, as the like did the author I
mention, yet it is not in his power to recall it, or to heal the wound he has
given; and that he should consider very well of beforehand.
A tradesman's credit and a virgin's virtue ought to be equally sacred from
the tongues of men; and it is a very unhappy truth, that as times now go,
they are neither of them regarded among us as they ought to be.
The tea-table among the ladies, and the coffee-house among the men, seem
to be places of new invention for a depravation of our manners and morals,
places devoted to scandal, and where the characters of all kinds of persons
and professions are handled in the most merciless manner, where reproach
triumphs, and we seem to give ourselves a loose to fall upon one another in
the most unchristian and unfriendly manner in the world.
It seems a little hard that the reputation of a young lady, or of a new-
married couple, or of people in the most critical season of establishing the
characters of their persons and families, should lie at the mercy of the tea-
table; nor is it less hard, that the credit of a tradesman, which is the same
thing in its nature as the virtue of a lady, should be tossed about, shuttle-
cock-like, from one table to another, in the coffee-house, till they shall talk
all his creditors about his ears, and bring him to the very misfortune which
they reported him to be near, when at the same time he owed them nothing
who raised the clamour, and owed nothing to all the world, but what he was
able to pay.
And yet how many tradesmen have been thus undone, and how many more
have been put to the full trial of their strength in trade, and have stood by
the mere force of their good circumstances; whereas, had they been
unfurnished with cash to have answered their whole debts, they must have
fallen with the rest.
We need go no farther than Lombard Street for an exemplification of this
truth. There was a time when Lombard Street was the only bank, and the
goldsmiths there were all called bankers. The credit of their business was
such, that the like has not been seen in England since, in private hands:

some of those bankers, as I have had from their own mouths, have had near
two millions of paper credit upon them at a time; that is to say, have had
bills under their hands running abroad for so much at a time.
On a sudden, like a clap of thunder, King Charles II. shut up the Exchequer,
which was the common centre of the overplus cash these great bankers had
in their hands. What was the consequence? Not only the bankers who had
the bulk of their cash there, but all Lombard Street, stood still. The very
report of having money in the Exchequer brought a run upon the goldsmiths
that had no money there, as well as upon those that had, and not only Sir
Robert Viner, Alderman Backwell, Farringdon, Forth, and others, broke and
failed, but several were ruined who had not a penny of money in the
Exchequer, and only sunk by the rumour of it; that rumour bringing a run
upon the whole street, and giving a check to the paper credit that was run up
to such an exorbitant height.
I remember a shopkeeper who one time took the liberty (foolish liberty!)
with himself, in public company in a coffee-house, to say that he was broke.
'I assure you,' says he, 'that I am broke, and to-morrow I resolve to shut up
my shop, and call my creditors together.' His meaning was, that he had a
brother just dead in his house, and the next day was to be buried, when, in
civility to the deceased, he kept his shop shut; and several people whom he
dealt with, and owed money to, were the next day invited to the funeral, so
that he did actually shut up his shop, and call some of his creditors together.
But he sorely repented the jest which he put upon himself. 'Are you broke?'
says one of his friends to him, that was in the coffee-house; 'then I wish I
had the little money you owe me' (which however, it seems, was not much).
Says the other, still carrying on his jest, 'I shall pay nobody, till, as I told
you, I have called my people together.' The other did not reach his jest,
which at best was but a dull one, but he reached that part of it that
concerned himself, and seeing him continue carelessly sitting in the shop,
slipped out, and, fetching a couple of sergeants, arrested him. The other was
a little surprised; but however, the debt being no great sum, he paid it, and
when he found his mistake, told his friends what he meant by his being
broke.

But it did not end there; for other people of his neighbours, who were then
in the coffee-house, and heard his discourse, and had thought nothing more
of it, yet in the morning seeing his shop shut, concluded the thing was so
indeed, and immediately it went over the whole street that such a one was
broke; from thence it went to the Exchange, and from thence into the
country, among all his dealers, who came up in a throng and a fright to look
after him. In a word, he had as much to do to prevent his breaking as any
man need to desire, and if he had not had very good friends as well as a
very good bottom, he had inevitably been ruined and undone.
So small a rumour will overset a tradesman, if he is not very careful of
himself; and if a word in jest from himself, which though indeed no man
that had considered things, or thought before he spoke, would have said
(and, on the other hand, no man who had been wise and thinking would
have taken as it was taken)—I say, if a word taken from the tradesman's
own mouth could be so fatal, and run such a dangerous length, what may
not words spoken slyly, and secretly, and maliciously, be made to do?
A tradesman's reputation is of the nicest nature imaginable; like a blight
upon a fine flower, if it is but touched, the beauty of it, or the flavour of it,
or the seed of it, is lost, though the noxious breath which touched it might
not reach to blast the leaf, or hurt the root; the credit of a tradesman, at least
in his beginning, is too much at the mercy of every enemy he has, till it has
taken root, and is established on a solid foundation of good conduct and
success. It is a sad truth, that every idle tongue can blast a young
shopkeeper; and therefore, though I would not discourage any young
beginner, yet it is highly beneficial to alarm them, and to let them know that
they must expect a storm of scandal and reproach upon the least slip they
make: if they but stumble, fame will throw them down; it is true, if they
recover, she will set them up as fast; but malice generally runs before, and
bears down all with it; and there are ten tradesmen who fall under the
weight of slander and an ill tongue, to one that is lifted up again by the
common hurry of report.
To say I am broke, or in danger of breaking, is to break me: and though
sometimes the malicious occasion is discovered, and the author detected
and exposed, yet how seldom is it so; and how much oftener are ill reports
raised to ruin and run down a tradesman, and the credit of a shop; and like

an arrow that flies in the dark, it wounds unseen. The authors, no nor the
occasion of these reports, are never discovered perhaps, or so much as
rightly guessed at; and the poor tradesman feels the wound, receives the
deadly blow, and is perhaps mortally stabbed in the vitals of his trade, I
mean his trading credit, and never knows who hurt him.
I must say, in the tradesman's behalf, that he is in such a case to be
esteemed a sacrifice to the worst and most hellish of all secret crimes, I
mean envy; which is made up of every hateful vice, a complication of
crimes which nothing but the worst of God's reasonable world can be guilty
of; and he will indeed merit and call for every honest man's pity and
concern. But what relief is this to him? for, in the meantime, though the
devil himself were the raiser of the scandal, yet it shall go about; the blow
shall take, and every man, though at the same time expressing their horror
and aversion at the thing, shall yet not be able, no not themselves, to say
they receive no impression from it.
Though I know the clamour or rumour was raised maliciously, and from a
secret envy at the prosperity of the man, yet if I deal with him, it will in
spite of all my abhorrence of the thing, in spite of all my willingness to do
justice, I say it will have some little impression upon me, it will be some
shock to my confidence in the man; and though I know the devil is a liar, a
slanderer, a calumniator, and that his name devil is derived from it; and that
I knew, if that, as I said, were possible, that the devil in his proper person
raised and began, and carried on, this scandal upon the tradesman, yet there
is a secret lurking doubt (about him), which hangs about me concerning
him; the devil is a liar, but he may happen to speak truth just then, he may
chance to be right, and I know not what there may be in it, and whether
there may be any thing or no, but I will have a little care, &c.
Thus, insensibly and involuntarily, nay, in spite of friendship, good wishes,
and even resolution to the contrary, it is almost impossible to prevent our
being shocked by rumour, and we receive an impression whether we will or
not, and that from the worst enemy; there is such a powerful sympathy
between our thoughts and our interest, that the first being but touched, and
that in the lightest manner imaginable, we cannot help it, caution steps on in
behalf of the last, and the man is jealous and afraid, in spite of all the
kindest and best intentions in the world.

Nor is it only dangerous in case of false accusations and false charges, for
those indeed are to be expected fatal; but even just and true things may be
as fatal as false, for the truth is not always necessary to be said of a
tradesman: many things a tradesman may perhaps allow himself to do, and
may be lawfully done, but if they should be known to be part of his
character, it would sink deep into his trading fame, his credit would suffer
by it, and in the end it might be his ruin; so that he that would not set his
hand to his neighbour's ruin, should as carefully avoid speaking some
truths, as raising some forgeries upon him.
Of what fatal consequence, then, is the raising rumours and suspicions upon
the credit and characters of young tradesmen! and how little do those who
are forward to raise such suspicions, and spread such rumours, consult
conscience, or principle, or honour, in what they do! How little do they
consider that they are committing a trading murder, and that, in respect to
the justice of it, they may with much more equity break open the
tradesman's house, and rob his cash-chest, or his shop; and what they can
carry away thence will not do him half the injury that robbing his character
of what is due to it from an upright and diligent conduct, would do. The loss
of his money or goods is easily made up, and may be sometimes repaired
with advantage, but the loss of credit is never repaired; the one is breaking
open his house, but the other is burning it down; the one carries away some
goods, but the other shuts goods out from coming in; one is hurting the
tradesman, but the other is undoing him.
Credit is the tradesman's life; it is, as the wise man says, 'marrow to his
bones;' it is by this that all his affairs go on prosperously and pleasantly; if
this be hurt, wounded, or weakened, the tradesman is sick, hangs his head,
is dejected and discouraged; and if he does go on, it is heavily and with
difficulty, as well as with disadvantage; he is beholding to his fund of cash,
not his friends; and he may be truly said to stand upon his own legs, for
nothing else can do it.
And therefore, on the other hand, if such a man is any way beholding to his
credit, if he stood before upon the foundation of his credit, if he owes any
thing considerable, it is a thousand to one but he sinks under the oppression
of it; that is to say, it brings every body upon him—I mean, every one that
has any demand upon him—for in pushing for their own, especially in such

cases, men have so little mercy, and are so universally persuaded that he
that comes first is first served, that I did not at all wonder, that in the story
of the tradesman who so foolishly exposed himself in the coffee-house, as
above, his friend whom he said the words to, began with him that very
night, and before he went out of the coffee-house; it was rather a wonder to
me he did not go out and bring in half-a-dozen more upon him the same
evening.
It is very rarely that men are wanting to their own interest; and the jealousy
of its being but in danger, is enough to make men forget, not friendship
only, and generosity, but good manners, civility, and even justice itself, and
fall upon the best friends they have in the world, if they think they are in the
least danger of suffering by them.
On these accounts it is, and many more, that a tradesman walks in continual
jeopardy, from the looseness and inadvertency of men's tongues, ay, and
women's too; for though I am all along very tender of the ladies, and would
do justice to the sex, by telling you, they were not the dangerous people
whom I had in view in my first writing upon this subject, yet I must be
allowed to say, that they are sometimes fully even with the men, for ill
usage, when they please to fall upon them in this nice article, in revenge for
any slight, or but pretended slight, put upon them.
It was a terrible revenge a certain lady, who was affronted by a tradesman in
London, in a matter of love, took upon him in this very article. It seems a
tradesman had courted her some time, and it was become public, as a thing
in a manner concluded, when the tradesman left the lady a little abruptly,
without giving a good reason for it, and, indeed, she afterwards discovered,
that he had left her for the offer of another with a little more money, and
that, when he had done so, he reported that it was for another reason, which
reflected a little on the person of the lady; and in this the tradesman did very
unworthily indeed, and deserved her resentment: but, as I said, it was a
terrible revenge she took, and what she ought not to have done.
First, she found out who it was that her former pretended lover had been
recommended to, and she found means to have it insinuated to her by a
woman-friend, that he was not only rakish and wicked, but, in short, that he
had a particular illness, and went so far as to produce letters from him to a

quack-doctor, for directions to him how to take his medicines, and
afterwards a receipt for money for the cure; though both the letters and
receipt also, as afterwards appeared, were forged, in which she went a
dismal length in her revenge, as you may see.
Then she set two or three female instruments to discourse her case in all
their gossips' companies, and at the tea-tables wherever they came, and to
magnify the lady's prudence in refusing such a man, and what an escape she
had had in being clear of him.
'Why,' says a lady to one of these emissaries, 'what was the matter? I
thought she was like to be very well married.'
'Oh no, Madam! by no means,' says the emissary.
'Why, Madam,' says another lady, 'we all know Mr H——; he is a very
pretty sort of a man.'
'Ay, Madam,' says the emissary again, 'but you know a pretty man is not all
that is required.'
'Nay,' says the lady again, 'I don't mean so; he is no beauty, no rarity that
way; but I mean a clever good sort of a man in his business, such as we call
a pretty tradesman.'
'Ay,' says the lady employed, 'but that is not all neither.'
'Why,' says the other lady, 'he has a very good trade too, and lives in good
credit.'
'Yes,' says malice, 'he has some of the first, but not too much of the last, I
suppose.'
'No!' says the lady; 'I thought his credit had been very good.'
'If it had, I suppose,' says the first, 'the match had not been broke off.'
'Why,' says the lady, 'I understood it was broken off on his side.'
'And so did I,' says another.
'And so did I, indeed,' says a third.

'Oh, Madam!' says the tool, 'nothing like it, I assure you.'
'Indeed,' says another, I understood he had quitted Mrs——, because she
had not fortune enough for him, and that he courted another certain lady,
whom we all know.'
Then the ladies fell to talking of the circumstances of his leaving her, and
how he had broken from her abruptly and unmannerly, and had been too
free with her character; at which the first lady, that is to say, the emissary, or
tool, as I call her, took it up a little warmly, thus:—
1. Lady.—Well, you see, ladies, how easily a lady's reputation may be
injured; I hope you will not go away with it so.
2. Lady.—Nay, we have all of us a respect for Mrs——, and some of us
visit there sometimes; I believe none of us would be willing to injure her.
1. Lady.—But indeed, ladies, she is very much injured in that story.
2. Lady.—Indeed, it is generally understood so, and every body believes it.
1. Lady.—I can assure you it is quite otherwise in fact.
2. Lady.—I believe he reports it so himself, and that with some very odd
things about the lady too.
1. Lady.—The more base unworthy fellow he.
2. Lady.—Especially if he knows it to be otherwise.
1. Lady.—Especially if he knows the contrary to be true, Madam.
2. Lady.—Is that possible? Did he not refuse her, then?
1. Lady.—Nothing like it, Madam; but just the contrary.
2. Lady.—You surprise me!
3. Lady.—I am very glad to hear it, for her sake.
1. Lady.—I can assure you, Madam, she had refused him, and that he
knows well enough, which has been one of the reasons that has made him
abuse her as he has done.

2. Lady.—Indeed, she has been used very ill by him, or somebody for him.
1. Lady.—Yes, he has reported strange things, but they are all lies.
2. Lady.—Well; but pray, Madam, what was the reason, if we may be so
free, that she turned him off after she had entertained him so long?
1. Lady.—Oh, Madam! reason enough; I wonder he should pretend, when
he knew his own circumstances too, to court a lady of her fortune.
2. Lady.—Why, are not his circumstances good, then?
1. Lady.—No, Madam. Good! alas, he has no bottom.
2. Lady.—No bottom! Why, you surprise me; we always looked upon him
to be a man of substance, and that he was very well in the world.
1. Lady.—It is all a cheat, Madam; there's nothing in it; when it came to be
made out, nothing at all in it.
2. Lady.—That cannot be, Madam; Mr —— has lived always in good
reputation and good credit in his business.
1. Lady.—It is all sunk again then, if it was so; I don't know.
2. Lady.—Why did she entertain him so long, then?
1. Lady.—Alas! Madam, how could she know, poor lady, till her friends
inquired into things? But when they came to look a little narrowly into it,
they soon found reason to give her a caution, that he was not the man she
took him for.
2. Lady.—Well, it is very strange; I am sure he passed for another man
among us.
1. Lady.—It must be formerly, then, for they tell me his credit has been
sunk these three or four years; he had need enough indeed to try for a
greater fortune, he wants it enough.
2. Lady.—It is a sad thing when men look out for fortunes to heal their
trade-breaches with, and make the poor wife patch up their old bankrupt
credit.

1. Lady.—Especially, Madam, when they know themselves to be gone so
far, that even with the addition they can stand but a little while, and must
inevitably bring the lady to destruction with them.
2. Lady.—Well, I could never have thought Mr —— was in such
circumstances.
3. Lady.—Nor I; we always took him for a ten thousand pound man.
1. Lady.—They say he was deep in the bubbles, Madam.
2. Lady.—Nay, if he was gotten into the South Sea, that might hurt him
indeed, as it has done many a gentleman of better estates than he.
1. Lady.—I don't know whether it was the South Sea, or some other
bubbles, but he was very near making a bubble of her, and £3000 into the
bargain.
2. Lady.—I am glad she has escaped him, if it be so; it is a sign her friends
took a great deal of care of her.
1. Lady.—He won't hold it long; he will have his desert, I hope; I don't
doubt but we shall see him in the Gazette quickly for a bankrupt.
2. Lady.—If he does not draw in some innocent young thing that has her
fortune in her own hands to patch him up.
1. Lady.—I hope not, Madam; I hear he is blown where he went since, and
there, they say, they have made another discovery of him, in a worse
circumstance than the other.
2. Lady.—How, pray?
1. Lady.—Nothing, Madam, but a particular kind of illness, &c. I need say
no more.
2. Lady.—You astonish me! Why, I always thought him a very civil, honest,
sober man.
1. Lady.—This is a sad world, Madam; men are seldom known now, till it is
too late; but sometimes murder comes out seasonably, and so I understand it

is here; for the lady had not gone so far with him, but that she could go off
again.
2. Lady.—Nay, it was time to go off again, if it were so.
1. Lady.—Nay, Madam, I do not tell this part of my own knowledge; I only
heard so, but I am afraid there is too much in it.
Thus ended this piece of hellish wildfire, upon the character and credit of a
tradesman, the truth of all which was no more than this—that the
tradesman, disliking his first lady, left her, and soon after, though not
presently, courted another of a superior fortune indeed, though not for that
reason; and the first lady, provoked at being cast off, and, as she called it,
slighted, raised all this clamour upon him, and persecuted him with it,
wherever she was able.
Such a discourse as this at a tea-table, it could not be expected would be
long a secret; it ran from one tittle-tattle society to another; and in every
company, snow-ball like, it was far from lessening, and it went on, till at
length it began to meet with some contradiction, and the tradesman found
himself obliged to trace it as far and as well as he could.
But it was to no purpose to confront it; when one was asked, and another
was asked, they only answered they heard so, and they heard it in company
in such a place, and in such a place, and some could remember where they
had it, and some could not; and the poor tradesman, though he was really a
man of substance, sank under it prodigiously: his new mistress, whom he
courted, refused him, and would never hear any thing in his favour, or
trouble herself to examine whether it were true or no—it was enough, she
said, to her, that he was laden with such a report; and, if it was unjust, she
was sorry for it, but the misfortune must be his, and he must place it to the
account of his having made some enemies, which she could not help.
As to his credit, the slander of the first lady's raising was spread
industriously, and with the utmost malice and bitterness, and did him an
inexpressible prejudice; every man he dealt with was shy of him; every man
he owed any thing to came for it, and, as he said, he was sure he should see
the last penny demanded; it was his happiness that he had wherewith to pay,
for had his circumstances been in the least perplexed, the man had been

undone; nay, as I have observed in another case, as his affairs might have
lain, he might have been able to have paid forty shillings in the pound, and
yet have been undone, and been obliged to break, and shut up his shop.
It is true, he worked through it, and he carried it so far as to fix the malice
of all the reports pretty much upon the first lady, and particularly so far as
to discover that she was the great reason of his being so positively rejected
by the other; but he could never fix it so upon her as to recover any
damages of her, only to expose her a little, and that she did not value,
having, as she said wickedly, had her full revenge of him, and so indeed she
had.
The sum of the matter is, and it is for this reason I tell you the story, that the
reputation of a tradesman is too much at the mercy of men's tongues or
women's either; and a story raised upon a tradesman, however malicious,
however false, and however frivolous the occasion, is not easily suppressed,
but, if it touches his credit, as a flash of fire it spreads over the whole air
like a sheet; there is no stopping it.
My inference from all this shall be very brief; if the tongues of every ill-
disposed envious gossip, whether man-gossip or woman-gossip, for there
are of both sorts, may be thus mischievous to the tradesman, and he is so
much at the mercy of the tattling slandering part of the world, how much
more should tradesmen be cautious and wary how they touch or wound the
credit and character of one another. There are but a very few tradesmen who
can say they are out of the reach of slander, and that the malice of enemies
cannot hurt them with the tongue. Here and there one, and those ancient and
well established, may be able to defy the world; but there are so many
others, that I think I may warn all tradesmen against making havoc of one
another's reputation, as they would be tenderly used in the same case.
And yet I cannot but say it is too much a tradesman's crime, I mean to speak
slightly and contemptibly of other tradesman, their neighbours, or perhaps
rivals in trade, and to run them down in the characters they give of them,
when inquiry may be made of them, as often is the case. The reputation of
tradesmen is too often put into the hands of their fellow-tradesmen, when
ignorant people think to inform themselves of their circumstances, by going
to those whose interest it is to defame and run them down.

I know no case in the world in which there is more occasion for the golden
rule, Do as you would be done unto; and though you may be established, as
you may think, and be above the reach of the tongues of others, yet the
obligation of the rule is the same, for you are to do as you would be done
unto, supposing that you were in the same condition, or on a level with the
person.
It is confessed that tradesmen do not study this rule in the particular case I
am now speaking of. No men are apter to speak slightly and coldly of a
fellow-tradesman than his fellow-tradesmen, and to speak unjustly so too;
the reasons for which cannot be good, unless it can be pleaded for upon the
foundation of a just and impartial concern in the interest of the inquirer; and
even then nothing must be said but what is consistent with strict justice and
truth: all that is more than that, is mere slander and envy, and has nothing of
the Christian in it, much less of the neighbour or friend. It is true that
friendship may be due to the inquirer, but still so much justice is due to the
person inquired of, that it is very hard to speak in such cases, and not be
guilty of raising dust, as they call it, upon your neighbour, and at least
hurting, if not injuring him.
It is, indeed, so difficult a thing, that I scarce know what stated rule to lay
down for the conduct of a tradesman in this case:—A tradesman at a
distance is going to deal with another tradesman, my neighbour; and before
he comes to bargain, or before he cares to trust him, he goes, weakly
enough perhaps, to inquire of him, and of his circumstances, among his
neighbours and fellow-tradesmen, perhaps of the same profession or
employment, and who, among other things, it may be, are concerned by
their interest, that this tradesman's credit should not rise too fast. What must
be done in this case?
If I am the person inquired of, what must I do? If I would have this man
sink in his reputation, or be discredited, and if it is for my interest to have
him cried down in the world, it is a sore temptation to me to put in a few
words to his disadvantage; and yet, if I do it in gratification of my private
views or interest, or upon the foot of resentment of any kind whatever, and
let it be from what occasion it will, nay, however just and reasonable the
resentment is, or may be, it is utterly unjust and unlawful, and is not only

unfair as a man, but unchristian, and is neither less nor more than a secret
revenge, which is forbidden by the laws of God and man.
If, on the other hand, I give a good character of the man, or of his
reputation, I mean, of his credit in business, in order to have the inquirer
trust him, and at the same time know or believe that he is not a sound and
good man (that is, as to trade, for it is his character in trade that I am
speaking of), what am I doing then? It is plain I lay a snare for the inquirer,
and am at least instrumental to his loss, without having really any design to
hurt him; for it is to be supposed, before he came to me to inquire, I had no
view of acting any thing to his prejudice.
Again, there is no medium, for to refuse or decline giving a character of the
man, is downright giving him the worst character I can—it is, in short,
shooting him through the head in his trade. A man comes to me for a
character of my neighbouring tradesman; I answer him with a repulse to his
inquiry thus—
A.—Good sir, do not ask me the character of my neighbours—I resolve to
meddle with nobody's character; pray, do not inquire of me.
B.—Well, but, sir, you know the gentleman; you live next door to him; you
can tell me, if you please, all that I desire to know, whether he is a man in
credit, and fit to be trusted, or no, in the way of his business.
A.—I tell you, sir, I meddle with no man's business; I will not give
characters of my neighbours—it is an ill office—a man gets no thanks for it,
and perhaps deserves none.
B.—But, sir, you would be willing to be informed and advised, if it were
your own case.
A.—It may be so, but I cannot oblige people to inform me.
B.—But you would entreat it as a favour, and so I come to you.
A.—But you may go to any body else.
B.—But you are a man of integrity; I can depend upon what you say; I
know you will not deceive me; and, therefore, I beg of you to satisfy me.

A.—But I desire you to excuse me, for it is what I never do—I cannot do it.
B.—But, sir, I am in a great strait; I am just selling him a great parcel of
goods, and I am willing to sell them too, and yet I am willing to be safe, as
you would yourself, if you were in my case.
A.—I tell you, sir, I have always resolved to forbear meddling with the
characters of my neighbours—it is an ill office. Besides, I mind my own
business; I do not enter into the inquiries after other people's affairs.
B.—Well, sir, I understand you, then; I know what I have to do.
A.—What do you mean by that?
B.—Nothing, sir, but what I suppose you would have me understand by it.
A.—I would have you understand what I say—namely, that I will meddle
with nobody's business but my own.
B.—And I say I understand you; I know you are a good man, and a man of
charity, and loth to do your neighbours any prejudice, and that you will
speak the best of every man as near as you can.
A.—I tell you, I speak neither the best nor the worst—I speak nothing.
B.—Well, sir, that is to say, that as charity directs you to speak well of every
man, so, when you cannot speak well, you refrain, and will say nothing; and
you do very well, to be sure; you are a very kind neighbour.
A.—But that is a base construction of my words; for I tell you, I do the like
by every body.
B.—Yes, sir, I believe you do, and I think you are in the right of it—am
fully satisfied.
A.—You act more unjustly by me than by my neighbour; for you take my
silence, or declining to give a character, to be giving an ill character.
B.—No, sir, not for an ill character.
A.—But I find you take it for a ground of suspicion.

B.—I take it, indeed, for a due caution to me, sir; but the man may be a
good man for all that, only—
A.—Only what? I understand you—only you won't trust him with your
goods.
B.—But another man may, sir, for all that, so that you have been kind to
your neighbours and to me too, sir—and you are very just. I wish all men
would act so one by another; I should feel the benefit of it myself among
others, for I have suffered deeply by ill tongues, I am sure.
A.—Well, however unjust you are to me, and to my neighbour too, I will
not undeceive you at present; I think you do not deserve it.
He used a great many more words with him to convince him that he did not
mean any discredit to his neighbour tradesman; but it was all one; he would
have it be, that his declining to give his said neighbour a good character was
giving him an ill character, which the other told him was a wrong inference.
However, he found that the man stood by his own notion of it, and declined
trusting the tradesman with the goods, though he was satisfied he (the
tradesman) was a sufficient man.
Upon this, he was a little uneasy, imagining that he had been the cause of it,
as indeed he had, next to the positive humour of the inquirer, though it was
not really his fault; neither was the construction the other made of it just to
his intention, for he aimed at freeing himself from all inquiries of that
nature, but found there was no prevailing with him to understand it any
other way than he did; so, to requite the man a little in his own way, he
contrived the following method: he met with him two or three days after,
and asked him if he had sold his goods to the person his neighbour?
'No,' says he; 'you know I would not.'
'Nay,' says the other, 'I only knew you said so; I did not think you would
have acted so from what I said, nor do I think I gave you any reason.'
'Why,' says he, 'I knew you would have given him a good character if you
could, and I knew you were too honest to do it, if you were not sure it was
just.'

'The last part I hope is true, but you might have believed me honest too, in
what I did say, that I had resolved to give no characters of any body.'
'As to that, I took it, as any body would, to be the best and modestest way of
covering what you would not have be disclosed, namely, that you could not
speak as you would; and I also judged that you therefore chose to say
nothing.'
'Well, I can say no more but this; you are not just to me in it, and I think you
are not just to yourself neither.'
They parted again upon this, and the next day the first tradesman, who had
been so pressed to give a character of his neighbour, sent a man to buy the
parcel of goods of the other tradesman, and offering him ready money,
bought them considerably cheaper than the neighbour-tradesman was to
have given for them, besides reckoning a reasonable discount for the time,
which was four months, that the first tradesman was to have given to his
neighbour.
As soon as he had done, he went and told the neighbour-tradesman what he
had done, and the reason of it, and sold the whole parcel to him again,
giving the same four months' credit for them as the first man was to have
given, and taking the discount for time only to himself, gave him all the
advantage of the buying, and gave the first man the mortification of
knowing it all, and that the goods were not only for the same man, but that
the very tradesman, whom he would not believe when he declined giving a
character of any man in general, had trusted him with them.
He pretended to be very angry, and to take it very ill; but the other told him,
that when he came to him for a character of the man, and he told him
honestly, that he would give no characters at all, that it was not for any ill to
his neighbour that he declined it, he ought to have believed him; and that he
hoped, when he wanted a character of any of his neighbours again, he
would not come to him for it.
This story is to my purpose in this particular, which is indeed very
significant; that it is the most difficult thing of its kind in the world to avoid
giving characters of our neighbouring tradesmen; and that, let your reasons
for it be what they will, to refuse giving a character is giving a bad

character, and is generally so taken, whatever caution or arguments you use
to the contrary.
In the next place, it is hard indeed, if an honest neighbour be in danger of
selling a large parcel of goods to a fellow, who I may know it is not likely
should be able to pay for them, though his credit may in the common
appearance be pretty good at that time; and what must I do? If I discover the
man's circumstances, which perhaps I am let into by some accident, I say, if
I discover them, the man is undone; and if I do not, the tradesman, who is in
danger of trusting him, is undone.
I confess the way is clear, if I am obliged to speak at all in the case: the man
unsound is already a bankrupt at bottom, and must fail, but the other man is
sound and firm, if this disaster does not befall him: the first has no wound
given him, but negatively; he stands where he stood before; whereas the
other is drawn in perhaps to his own ruin. In the next place, the first is a
knave, or rather thief, for he offers to buy, and knows he cannot pay; in a
word, he offers to cheat his neighbour; and if I know it, I am so far
confederate with him in the cheat.
In this case I think I am obliged to give the honest man a due caution for his
safety, if he desires my advice; I cannot say I am obliged officiously to go
out of my way to do it, unless I am any way interested in the person—for
that would be to dip into other men's affairs, which is not my proper work;
and if I should any way be misinformed of the circumstances of the
tradesman I am to speak of, and wrong him, I may be instrumental to bring
ruin causelessly upon him.
In a word, it is a very nice and critical case, and a tradesman ought to be
very sure of what he says or does in such a case, the good or evil fate of his
neighbour lying much at stake, and depending too much on the breath of his
mouth. Every part of this discourse shows how much a tradesman's welfare
depends upon the justice and courtesy of his neighbours, and how nice and
critical a thing his reputation is.
This, well considered, would always keep a tradesman humble, and show
him what need he has to behave courteously and obligingly among his
neighbours; for one malicious word from a man much meaner than himself,
may overthrow him in such a manner, as all the friends he has may not be

able to recover him; a tradesman, if possible, should never make himself
any enemies.
But if it is so fatal a thing to tradesmen to give characters of one another,
and that a tradesman should be so backward in it for fear of hurting his
neighbour, and that, notwithstanding the character given should be just, and
the particular reported of him should be true, with how much greater
caution should we act in like cases where what is suggested is really false in
fact, and the tradesman is innocent, as was the case in the tradesman
mentioned before about courting the lady. If a tradesman may be ruined and
undone by a true report, much more may he be so by a false report, by a
malicious, slandering, defaming tongue. There is an artful way of talking of
other people's reputation, which really, however some people salve the
matter, is equal, if not superior, in malice to the worst thing they can say;
this is, by rendering them suspected, talking doubtfully of their characters,
and of their conduct, and rendering them first doubtful, and then strongly
suspected. I don't know what to say to such a man. A gentleman came to me
the other day, but I knew not what to say; I dare not say he is a good man,
or that I would trust him with five hundred pounds myself; if I should say
so, I should belie my own opinion. I do not know, indeed, he may be a good
man at bottom, but I cannot say he minds his business; if I should, I must
lie; I think he keeps a great deal of company, and the like.
Another, he is asked of the currency of his payments, and he answers
suspiciously on that side too; I know not what to say, he may pay them at
last, but he does not pay them the most currently of any man in the street,
and I have heard saucy boys huff him at his door for bills, on his
endeavouring to put them off; indeed, I must needs say I had a bill on him a
few weeks ago for a hundred pounds, and he paid me very currently, and
without any dunning, or often calling upon, but it was I believe because I
offered him a bargain at that time, and I supposed he was resolved to put a
good face upon his credit.
A tradesman, that would do as he would be done by, should carefully avoid
these people who come always about, inquiring after other tradesman's
characters. There are men who make it their business to do thus; and as they
are thereby as ready to ruin and blow up good fair-dealing tradesmen as

others, so they do actually surprise many, and come at their characters
earlier and nearer than they expect they would.
Tradesmen, I say, that will thus behave to one another, cannot be supposed
to be men of much principle, but will be apt to lay hold of any other
advantage, how unjust soever, and, indeed, will wait for an occasion of such
advantages; and where is there a tradesman, but who, if he be never so
circumspect, may some time or other give his neighbour, who watches for
his halting, advantage enough against him. When such a malicious
tradesman appears in any place, all the honest tradesmen about him ought to
join to expose him, whether they are afraid of him or no: they should blow
him among the neighbourhood, as a public nuisance, as a common
barrettor, or raiser of scandal; by such a general aversion to him they would
depreciate him, and bring him into so just a contempt, that no body would
keep him company, much less credit any thing he said; and then his tongue
would be no slander, and his breath would be no blast, and nobody would
either tell him any thing, or hear any thing from him: and this kind of usage,
I think, is the only way to put a stop to a defamer; for when he has no credit
of his own left, he would be unable to hurt any of his neighbour's.

CHAPTER XVI
OF THE TRADESMAN'S ENTERING INTO PARTNERSHIP IN TRADE,
AND THE MANY DANGERS ATTENDING IT

There are some businesses which are more particularly accustomed to
partnerships than others, and some that are very seldom managed without
two, three, or four partners, and others that cannot be at all carried on
without partnership; and there are those again, in which they seldom join
partners together.
Mercers, linen-drapers, banking goldsmiths, and such considerable trades,
are often, and indeed generally, carried on in partnership; but other meaner
trades, and of less business, are carried on, generally speaking, single-
handed.
Some merchants, who carry on great business in foreign ports, have what
they call houses in those ports, where they plant and breed up their sons and
apprentices; and these are such as I hinted could not carry on their business
without partnership.
The trading in partnership is not only liable to more hazards and difficulties,
but it exposes the tradesman to more snares and disadvantages by a great
deal, than the trading with a single hand does; and some of those snares are
these:—
1. If the partner is a stirring, diligent, capable man, there is danger of his
slipping into the whole trade, and, getting in between you and home, by his
application, thrusting you at last quite out; so that you bring in a snake into
your chimney corner, which, when it is warmed and grown vigorous, turns
about at you, and hisses you out of the house. It is with the tradesman, in
the case of a diligent and active partner, as I have already observed it was in
the case of a trusty and diligent apprentice, namely, that if the master does
not appear constantly at the head of the business, and make himself be

known by his own application and diligence to be what he is, he shall soon
look to be what he is not, that is to say, one not concerned in the business.
He will never fail to be esteemed the principal person concerned in the
shop, and in the trade, who is principally and most constantly found there,
acting at the head of every business; and be it a servant or a partner, the
master or chief loses himself extremely by the advances the other makes of
that kind; for, whenever they part again, either the apprentice by being out
of his time, or the partner by the expiration of the articles of partnership, or
by any other determination of their agreement, the customers most certainly
desire to deal with the man whom they have so often been obliged by; and
if they miss him, inquire after and follow him.
It is true, the apprentice is the more dangerous of the two, because his
separation is supposed to be more certain, and generally sooner than the
partner; the apprentice is not known, and cannot have made his interest
among the buyers, but for perhaps a year, or a year and a half, before his
time expired: sooner than that he could not put himself in the way of being
known and observed; and then, when his time is out, he certainly removes,
unless he is taken into the shop as a partner, and that, indeed, prolongs the
time, and places the injury at a greater distance, but still it makes it the more
influencing when it comes; and unless he is brought some how or other into
the family, and becomes one of the house, perhaps by marriage, or some
other settled union with the master, he never goes off without making a
great chasm in the master's affairs, and the more, by how much he has been
more diligent and useful in the trade, the wounds of which the master
seldom if ever recovers.
If the partner were not an apprentice, but that they either came out of their
times together, or near it, or had a shop and business before, but quitted it to
come in, it may then be said that he brought part of the trade with him, and
so increased the trade when he joined with the other in proportion to what
he may be said to carry away when he went off; this is the best thing that
can be said of a partnership; and then I have this to add, first, that the
tradesman who took the partner in has a fair field, indeed, to act in with his
partner, and must take care, by his constant attendance, due acquaintance
with the customers, and appearing in every part of the business, to maintain
not his interest only, but the appearance of his interest, in the shop or

warehouse, that he may, on every occasion, and to every customer, not only
be, but be known to be, the master and head of the business; and that the
other is at best but a partner, and not a chief partner, as, in case of his
absence and negligence, will presently be suggested; for he that chiefly
appears will be always chief partner in the eye of the customers, whatever
he is in the substance of the thing.
This, indeed, is much the same case with what is said before of a diligent
servant, and a negligent master, and therefore I forbear to enlarge upon it;
but it is so important in both cases, that indeed it cannot well be mentioned
too often: the master's full application, in his own person, is the only answer
to both. He that takes a partner only to ease him of the toil of his business,
that he may take his pleasure, and leave the drudgery, as they call it, to the
partner, should take care not to do it till about seven years before he
resolves to leave off trade, that, at the end of the partnership, he may be
satisfied to give up the trade to his partner, or see him run away with it, and
not trouble himself about it.
But if he takes a partner at his beginning, with an intent, by their joint
enlarged stock, to enlarge their business, and so carry on a capital trade,
which perhaps neither of them were able to do by themselves, and which is
the only justifiable reason for taking a partner at all, he must resolve then to
join with his partner, not only in stock, but in mutual diligence and
application, that the trade may flourish by their joint assistance and constant
labour, as two oxen yoked together in the same draught, by their joint
assistance, draw much more than double what they could either of them
draw by their single strength; and this, indeed, is the only safe circumstance
of a partnership: then, indeed, they are properly partners when they are
assistants to one another, whereas otherwise they are like two gamesters
striving to worm one another out, and to get the mastery in the play they are
engaged in.
The very word partner imports the substance of the thing, and they are, as
such, engaged to a mutual application, or they are no more partners, but
rather one is the trading gentleman, and the other is the trading drudge; but
even then, let them depend, the drudge will carry away the trade, and the
profit too, at last. And this is the way how one partner may honestly ruin
another, and for ought I know it is the only one: for it cannot be said but

that the diligent partner acts honestly in acting diligently, and if the other
did the same, they would both thrive alike; but if one is negligent and the
other diligent, one extravagant and expensive, the other frugal and prudent,
it cannot be said to be his fault that one is rich and the other poor—that one
increases in the stock, and the other is lessened, and at last worked quite out
of it.
As a partner, then, is taken in only for ease, to abate the first tradesman's
diligence, and take off the edge of his application, so far a partner, let him
be as honest and diligent as he will, is dangerous to the tradesman—nay, the
more honest and the more diligent he is, the more dangerous he is, and the
more a snare to the tradesman that takes him in; and a tradesman ought to
be very cautious in the adventure, for, indeed, it is an adventure—that he be
not brought in time to relax his diligence, by having a partner, even contrary
to his first intention; for laziness is a subtle insinuating thing, and it is a sore
temptation to a man of ease and indolence to see his work done for him, and
less need of him in the business than used to be, and yet the business to go
on well too; and this danger is dormant, and lies unseen, till after several
years it rises, as it were, out of its ambuscade, and surprises the tradesman,
letting him see by his loss what his neglect has cost him.
2. But there are other dangers in partnership, and those not a few; for you
may not only be remiss and negligent, remitting the weight of the business
upon him, and depending upon him for its being carried on, by which he
makes himself master, and brings you to be forgot in the business; but he
may be crafty too, and designing in all this, and when he has thus brought
you to be as it were nobody, he shall make himself be all somebody in the
trade, and in that particular he by degrees gets the capital interest, as well as
stock in the trade, while the true original of the shop, who laid the
foundation of the whole business, brought a trade to the shop, or brought
commissions to the house, and whose the business more particularly is, is
secretly supplanted, and with the concurrence of his own negligence—for
without that it cannot be—is, as it were, laid aside, and at last quite thrust
out.
Thus, whether honest or dishonest, the tradesman is circumvented, and the
partnership is made fatal to him; for it was all owing to the partnership the
tradesman was diligent before, understood his business, and kept close to it,

gave up his time to it, and by employing himself, prevented the indolence
which he finds breaking insensibly upon him afterwards, by being made
easy, as they call it, in the assistance of a partner.
3. But there are abundance of other cases which make a partnership
dangerous; for if it be so where the partner is honest and diligent, and where
he works into the heart of the business by his industry and application, or by
his craft and insinuation, what may it not be if he proves idle and
extravagant; and if, instead of working him out, he may be said to play him
out of the business, that is to say, prove wild, expensive, and run himself
and his partner out by his extravagance?
There are but too many examples of this kind; and here the honest
tradesman has the labouring oar indeed; for instead of being assisted by a
diligent industrious partner, whom on that account he took into the trade, he
proves a loose, extravagant, wild fellow, runs abroad into company, and
leaves him (for whose relief he was taken in) to bear the burden of the
whole trade, which, perhaps, was too heavy for him before, and if it had not
been so, he had not been prevailed with to have taken in a partner at all.
This is, indeed, a terrible disappointment, and is very discouraging, and the
more so, because it cannot be recalled; for a partnership is like matrimony,
it is almost engaged in for better or for worse, till the years expire; there is
no breaking it off, at least, not easily nor fairly, but all the inconveniences
which are to be feared will follow and stare in your face: as, first, the
partner in the first place draws out all his stock; and this sometimes is a
blow fatal enough, for perhaps the partner cannot take the whole trade upon
himself, and cannot carry on the trade upon his own stock: if he could, he
would not have taken in a partner at all. This withdrawing the stock has
sometimes been very dangerous to a partner; nay, has many times been the
overthrow and undoing of him and of the family that is left.
He that takes a partner into his trade on this account—namely, for the
support of his stock, to enjoy the assistance of so much cash to carry on the
trade, ought seriously to consider what he shall be able to do when the
partner, breaking off the partnership, shall carry all his stock, and the
improvement of it too, with him: perhaps the tradesman's stock is not much
increased, perhaps not at all; nay, perhaps the stock is lessened, instead of

being increased, and they have rather gone backward than forward. What
shall the tradesman do in such a case? And how shall he bear the breach in
his stock which that separation would make?
Thus he is either tied down to the partner, or the partner is pinned down to
him, for he cannot separate without a breach. It is a sad truth to many a
partner, that when the partnership comes to be finished and expired, the
man would let his partner go, but the other cannot go without tearing him
all to pieces whom he leaves behind him; and yet the partner being loose,
idle, and extravagant, in a word, will ruin both if he stays.
This is the danger of partnership in some of the best circumstances of it; but
how hazardous and how fatal is it in other cases! And how many an honest
and industrious tradesman has been prevailed with to take in a partner to
ease himself in the weight of the business, or on several other accounts,
some perhaps reasonable and prudent enough, but has found himself
immediately involved in a sea of trouble, is brought into innumerable
difficulties, concealed debts, and unknown incumbrances, such as he could
no ways extricate himself out of, and so both have been unavoidably ruined
together!
These cases are so various and so uncertain, that it is not easy to enumerate
them: but we may include the particulars in a general or two.
1. One partner may contract debts, even in the partnership itself, so far
unknown to the other, as that the other may be involved in the danger of
them, though he was not at all concerned in, or acquainted with, them at the
same time they were contracted.
2. One partner may discharge debts for both partners; and so, having a
design to be knavish, may go and receive money, and give receipts for it,
and not bringing it to account, or not bringing the money into cash, may
wrong the stock to so considerable a sum as may be to the ruin of the other
partner.
3. One partner may confess judgment, or give bonds, or current notes in the
name, and as for the account of the company, and yet convert the effects to
his own private use, leaving the stock to be answerable for the value.

4. One partner may sell and give credit, and deliver parcels of goods to
what sum, or what quantity, he thinks fit, and to whom, and so, by his
indiscretion, or perhaps by connivance and knavery, lose to the stock what
parcel of goods he pleases, to the ruin of the other partner, and bring
themselves to be both bankrupt together.
5. Nay, to sum up all, one partner may commit acts of bankruptcy without
the knowledge of the other, and thereby subject the united stock, and both
or all the partners, to the danger of a commission, when they may
themselves know nothing of it till the blow is given, and given so as to be
too late to be retrieved.
All these, and many more, being the ill consequences and dangers of
partnership in trade, I cannot but seriously warn the honest industrious
tradesman, if possible, to stand upon his own legs, and go on upon his own
bottom; to pursue his business diligently, but cautiously, and what we call
fair and softly; not eagerly pushing to drive a vast trade, and enjoy but half
of it, rather carry on a middling business, and let it be his own.
There may be cases, indeed, which may have their exceptions to this
general head of advice; partnerships may sometimes prove successful, and
in some particular business they are more necessary than in others, and in
some they tell us that they are absolutely necessary, though the last I can by
no means grant; but be that as it will, there are so many cases more in
number, and of great consequence too, which miscarry by the several
perplexed circumstances, differing tempers, and open knavery of partners,
that I cannot but give it as a friendly advice to all tradesmen—if possible, to
avoid partnerships of all kinds.
But if the circumstances of trade require partnerships, and the risk must be
run, I would recommend to the tradesman not to enter into partnerships, but
under the following circumstances:—
1. Not to take in any partner who should be allowed to carry on any
separate business, in which the partnership is not concerned. Depend upon
it, whatever other business your partner carries on, you run the risk of it as
much as you do of your own; and you run the risk with this particular
circumstance too, that you have the hazard without the profit or success:
that is, without a share in the profit or success, which is very unequal and

unfair. I know cunning men will tell you, that there may be provision made
so effectually in the articles of partnership, that the stock in partnership
should be concerned in no other interest or engagements but its own; but let
such cunning gentlemen tell me, if the partner meets with a disappointment
in his other undertakings, which wounds him so deep as to break him, will
it not affect the partnership thus far? 1. That it may cause his stock to be
drawn hastily out, and perhaps violently too. 2. That it touches and taints
the credit of the partner to be concerned with such a man; and though a
man's bottom may support him, if it be very good, yet it is a blow to him,
touches his credit, and makes the world stand a little at a stay about him, if
it be no more, for a while, till they see that he shows himself upon the
Exchange, or at his shop-door again, in spite of all the apprehensions and
doubts that have been handed about concerning him. Either of these are so
essential to the tradesman, whose partner thus sinks by his own private
breaches, in which the parnership is not concerned, that it is worth while to
caution the tradesman against venturing. And I must add, too, that many a
tradesman has fallen under the disaster by the partner's affairs thus affecting
him, though the immediate losses which the partner had suffered have not
been charged upon him; and yet I believe it is not so easy to avoid being
fallen upon for those debts also.
It is certain, as I formerly noted, rumour will break a tradesman almost at
any time. It matters not, at first, whether the rumour be true or false. What
rumour can sit closer to a man in business—his own personal misfortunes
excepted—than such as this-that his partner is broke? That his partner has
met with a loss, suppose an insurance, suppose a fall of stocks, suppose a
bubble or a cheat, or we know not what, the partner is sunk, no man knows
whether the partnership be concerned in it or no; and while it is not known,
every man will suppose it, for mankind always think the worst of every
thing.
What can be a closer stroke at the poor tradesman? He knows not what his
partner has done; he has reason to fear the worst; he even knows not
himself, for a while, whether he can steer clear of the rocks or no; but soon
recovers, knows his own circumstances, and struggles hard with the world,
pays out his partner's stock, and gets happily over it. And it is well he does
so, for that he is at the brink of ruin must be granted; and where one stands

and keeps up his reputation and his business, there are twenty would be
undone in the same circumstance.
Who, then, would run the venture of a partner, if it were possible to avoid
it? And who, if they must have a partner, would have one that was
concerned in separate business, in which the partnership was not engaged?
2. If you must have a partner, always choose to have the partner rather
under than over you; by this I mean, take him in for a fifth, a fourth, or at
most a third, never for a half. There are many reasons to be given for this,
besides that of having the greater share of profits, for that I do not give as a
reason here at all; but the principal reasons are these:—First, in case of any
disaster in any of the particular supposed accidents which I have mentioned,
and that you should be obliged to pay out your partner's stock, it will not be
so heavy, or be so much a blow to you: and, secondly, you preserve to
yourself the governing influence in your own business; you cannot be
overruled, overawed, or dogmatically told, it shall, or shall not, be thus, or
thus. He that takes in a partner for a third, has a partner servant; he that
takes him in for a half, has a partner master—that is to say, a director, or
preceptor: let your partner have always a lesser interest in the business than
yourself, and be rather less acquainted with the business than yourself, at
least not better. You should rather have a partner to be instructed, than a
partner to instruct you; for he that teaches you, will always taunt you.
3. If you must have a partner, let him always be your junior, rather than
your senior; by this I mean, your junior in business, whether he is so in
years or not. There are many reasons why the tradesman should choose this,
and particularly the same as the other of taking him in for a junior or
inferior part of the trade—that is to say, to maintain the superiority of the
business in his own hands; and this I mention, not at all upon account of the
pride or vanity of the superiority, for that is a trifle compared to the rest; but
that he may have the more authority to inspect the conduct of his partner, in
which he is so much and so essentially concerned; and to inquire whether
he is doing any thing, or taking any measures, dangerous or prejudicial to
the stock, or to the credit of the partnership, that so if he finds any thing, he
may restrain him, and prevent in time the mischief which would otherwise
be inevitable to them both.

There are many other advantages to a tradesman who is obliged to take a
partner, by keeping in his own hands the major part of the trade, which are
too long to repeat here; such as his being always able to put a check to any
rash adventure, any launching out into bubbles and projects, and things
dangerous to the business: and this is a very needful thing in a partnership,
that one partner should be able to correct the rash resolves of another in
hazardous cases.
By this correcting of rash measures, I mean over-ruling them with
moderation and temper, for the good of the whole, and for their mutual
advantage. The Romans frequently had two generals, or consuls, to
command their armies in the field: one of which was to be a young man,
that by his vigour and sprightly forwardness he might keep up the spirits
and courage of the soldiers, encourage them to fight, and lead them on by
his example; the other an old soldier, that by his experience in the military
affairs, age, and counsels, he might a little abate the fire of his colleague,
and might not only know how to fight, but know when to fight, that is to
say, when to avoid fighting; and the want of this lost them many a victory,
and the great battle of Cannae in particular, in which 80,000 Romans were
killed in one day.
To compare small things with great, I may say it is just so in the affair of
trade. You should always join a sober grave head, weighed to business, and
acquainted with trade, to the young trader, who having been young in the
work will the easier give up his judgment to the other, and who is governed
with the solid experience of the other; and so you join their ways together,
the rash and the sedate, the grave and the giddy.
Again, if you must go into partnership, be sure, if possible, you take nobody
into partnership but such as whose circumstances in trade you are fully
acquainted with. Such there are frequently to be had among relations and
neighbours, and such, if possible, should be the man that is taken into
partnership, that the hazard of unsound circumstances may be avoided. A
man may else be taken into partnership who may be really bankrupt even
before you take him; and such things have been done, to the ruin of many
an honest tradesman.

If possible, let your partner be a beginner, that his stock may be reasonably
supposed to be free and unentangled; and let him be one that you know
personally, and his circumstances, and did know even before you had any
thoughts of engaging together.
All these cautions are with a supposition that the partner must be had; but I
must still give it as my opinion, in the case of such tradesmen as I have all
along directed myself to, that if possible they should go on single-handed in
trade; and I close it with this brief note, respecting the qualifications of a
partner, as above, that, next to no partner, such a partner is best.

CHAPTER XVII
OF HONESTY IN DEALING, AND LYING

There is some difference between an honest man and an honest tradesman;
and though the distinction is very nice, yet, I must say, it is to be supported.
Trade cannot make a knave of an honest man, for there is a specific
difference between honesty and knavery which can never be altered by
trade or any other thing; nor can that integrity of mind which describes and
is peculiar to a man of honesty be ever abated to a tradesman; the rectitude
of his soul must be the same, and he must not only intend or mean honestly
and justly, but he must do so; he must act honestly and justly, and that in all
his dealings; he must neither cheat nor defraud, over-reach nor circumvent
his neighbour, nor indeed anybody he deals with; nor must he design to do
so, or lay any plots or snares to that purpose in his dealing, as is frequent in
the general conduct of too many, who yet call themselves honest tradesmen,
and would take it very ill to have any one tax their integrity.
But after all this is premised, there are some latitudes, like poetical licences
in other cases, which a tradesman is and must be allowed, and which by the
custom and usage of trade he may give himself a liberty in, which cannot be
allowed in other cases to any man, no, nor to the tradesman himself out of
his business—I say, he may take some liberties, but within bounds; and
whatever some pretenders to strict living may say, yet that tradesman shall
pass with me for a very honest man, notwithstanding the liberty which he
gives himself of this kind, if he does not take those liberties in an exorbitant
manner; and those liberties are such as these.
1. The liberty of asking more than he will take. I know some people have
condemned this practice as dishonest, and the Quakers for a time stood to
their point in the contrary practice, resolving to ask no more than they
would take, upon any occasion whatsoever, and choosing rather to lose the
selling of their goods, though they could afford sometimes to take what was
offered, rather than abate a farthing of the price they had asked; but time

and the necessities of trade made them wiser, and brought them off of that
severity, and they by degrees came to ask, and abate, and abate again, just
as other business tradesmen do, though not perhaps as some do, who give
themselves a fuller liberty that way.
Indeed, it is the buyers that make this custom necessary; for they, especially
those who buy for immediate use, will first pretend positively to tie
themselves up to a limited price, and bid them a little and a little more, till
they come so near the sellers' price, that they, the sellers, cannot find in their
hearts to refuse it, and then they are tempted to take it, notwithstanding their
first words to the contrary. It is common, indeed, for the tradesman to say, 'I
cannot abate anything,' when yet they do and can afford it; but the
tradesman should indeed not be understood strictly and literally to his
words, but as he means it, namely, that he cannot reasonably abate, and that
he cannot afford to abate: and there he may be in earnest, namely, that he
cannot make a reasonable profit of his goods, if he is obliged to abate, and
so the meaning is honest, that he cannot abate; and yet rather than not take
your money, he may at last resolve to do it, in hopes of getting a better price
for the remainder, or being willing to abate his ordinary gain, rather than
disoblige the customer; or being perhaps afraid he should not sell off the
quantity; and many such reasons may be given why he submits to sell at a
lower price than he really intended, or can afford to do; and yet he cannot
be said to be dishonest, or to lie, in saying at first he cannot, or could not,
abate.
A man in trade is properly to be said not to be able to do what he cannot do
to his profit and advantage. The English cannot trade to Hungary, and into
Slavonia—that is to say, they cannot do it to advantage; but it is better for
them to trade to Venice with their goods, and let the Venetians carry on a
trade into Hungary through Dalmatia, Croatia, &c, and the like in other
places.
To bring it down to particular cases: one certain merchant cannot deal in
one sort of goods which another merchant is eminent for; the other
merchant is as free to the trade as he, but he cannot do it to profit; for he is
unacquainted with the trade, and it is out of his way, and therefore he
cannot do it.

Thus, to the case in hand. The tradesman says he cannot sell his goods
under such a price, which in the sense of his business is true; that is to say,
he cannot do it to carry on his trade with the usual and reasonable
advantage which he ought to expect, and which others make in the same
way of business.
Or, he cannot, without underselling the market, and undervaluing the goods,
and seeming to undersell his neighbour-shopkeepers, to whom there is a
justice due in trade, which respects the price of sale; and to undersell is
looked upon as an unfair kind of trading.
All these, and many more, are the reasons why a tradesman may be said not
to lie, though he should say he cannot abate, or cannot sell his goods under
such a price, and yet may after think fit to sell you his goods something
lower than he so intended, or can afford to do, rather than lose your custom,
or rather than lose the selling of his goods, and taking your ready money,
which at that time he may have occasion for.
In these cases, I cannot say a shopkeeper should be tied down to the literal
meaning of his words in the price he asks, or that he is guilty of lying in not
adhering stiffly to the letter of his first demand; though, at the same time, I
would have every tradesman take as little liberty that way as may be: and if
the buyer would expect the tradesman should keep strictly to his demand,
he should not stand and haggle, and screw the shopkeeper down, bidding
from one penny to another, to a trifle within his price, so, as it were, to push
him to the extremity, either to turn away his customer for a sixpence, or
some such trifle, or to break his word: as if he would say, I will force you to
speak falsely, or turn me away for a trifle.
In such cases, if, indeed, there is a breach, the sin is the buyer's: at least, he
puts himself in the devil's stead, and makes himself both tempter and
accuser; nor can I say that the seller is in that case so much to blame as the
buyer. However, it were to be wished that on both sides buying and selling
might be carried on without it; for the buyer as often says, 'I won't give a
farthing more,' and yet advances, as the seller says, 'I can't abate a farthing,'
and yet complies. These are, as I call them, trading lies; and it were to be
wished they could be avoided on both sides; and the honest tradesman does

avoid them as much as possible, but yet must not, I say, in all cases, be tied
up to the strict, literal sense of that expression, I cannot abate, as above.[26]
2. Another trading licence is that of appointing, and promising payments of
money, which men in business are oftentimes forced to make, and forced to
break, without any scrupple; nay, and without any reproach upon their
integrity. Let us state this case as clearly as we can, and see how it stands as
to the morality of it, for that is the point in debate.
The credit usually given by one tradesman to another, as particularly by the
merchant to the wholesale-man, and by the wholesale-man to the retailer, is
such, that, without tying the buyer up to a particular day of payment, they
go on buying and selling, and the buyer pays money upon account, as his
convenience admits, and as the seller is content to take it. This occasions
the merchant, or the wholesale-man, to go about, as they call it, a-dunning
among their dealers, and which is generally the work of every Saturday.
When the merchant comes to his customer the wholesale-man, or
warehouse-keeper, for money, he tells him, 'I have no money, Sir; I cannot
pay you now; if you call next week, I will pay you.' Next week comes, and
the merchant calls again; but it is the same thing, only the warehouseman
adds, 'Well, I will pay you next week, without fail.' When the week comes,
he tells him he has met with great disappointments, and he knows not what
to do, but desires his patience another week: and when the other week
comes, perhaps he pays him, and so they go on.
Now, what is to be said for this? In the first place, let us look back to the
occasion. This warehouse-keeper, or wholesale-man, sells the goods which
he buys of the merchant—I say, he sells them to the retailers, and it is for
that reason I place it first there. Now, as they buy in smaller quantities than
he did of the merchant, so he deals with more of them in number, and he
goes about among them the same Saturday, to get in money that he may pay
his merchant, and he receives his bag full of promises, too, every where
instead of money, and is put off from week to week, perhaps by fifty
shopkeepers in a day; and their serving him thus obliges him to do the same
to the merchant.
Again, come to the merchant. Except some, whose circumstances are above
it, they are by this very usage obliged to put off the Blackwell-hall factor, or

the packer, or the clothier, or whoever they deal with, in proportion; and
thus promises go round for payment, and those promises are kept or broken
as money comes in, or as disappointments happen; and all this while there
is no breach of honesty, or parole; no lying, or supposition of it, among the
tradesmen, either on one side or other.
But let us come, I say, to the morality of it. To break a solemn promise is a
kind of prevarication; that is certain, there is no coming off of it; and I
might enlarge here upon the first fault, namely, of making the promise,
which, say the strict objectors, they should not do. But the tradesman's
answer is this: all those promises ought to be taken as they are made—
namely, with a contingent dependence upon the circumstances of trade,
such as promises made them by others who owe them money, or the
supposition of a week's trade bringing in money by retail, as usual, both of
which are liable to fail, or at least to fall short; and this the person who calls
for the money knows, and takes the promise with those attending casualties;
which if they fail, he knows the shopkeeper, or whoever he is, must fail him
too.
The case is plain, if the man had the money in cash, he need not make a
promise or appointment for a farther day; for that promise is no more or less
than a capitulation for a favour, a desire or condition of a week's
forbearance, on his assurance, that if possible he will not fail to pay him at
the time. It is objected, that the words if possible should then be mentioned,
which would solve the morality of the case: to this I must answer, that I
own I think it needless, unless the man to whom the promise was made
could be supposed to believe the promise was to be performed, whether it
were possible or no; which no reasonable man can be supposed to do.
There is a parallel case to this in the ordinary appointment of people to meet
either at place or time, upon occasions of business. Two friends make an
appointment to meet the next day at such a house, suppose a tavern at or
near the Exchange: one says to the other, 'Do not fail me at that time, for I
will certainly be there;' the other answers, 'I will not fail.' Some people, who
think themselves more religious than others, or at least would be thought so,
object against these positive appointments, and tell us we ought to say, 'I
will, if it pleases God.' or I will, life and health permitting;[27] and they

quote the text for it, where our Saviour expressly commands to use such a
caution, and which I shall say nothing to lessen the force of.
But to say a word to our present custom. Since Christianity is the public
profession of the country, and we are to suppose we not only are Christians
ourselves, but that all those we are talking to, or of, are also Christians, we
must add that Christianity supposes we acknowledge that life, and all the
contingencies of life, are subjected to the dominion of Providence, and
liable to all those accidents which God permits to befall us in the ordinary
course of our living in the world, therefore we expect to be taken in that
sense in all such appointments; and it is but justice to us as Christians, in
the common acceptation of our words, that when I say, I will certainly meet
my friend at such a place, and at such a time, he should understand me to
mean, if it pleases God to give me life and health, or that his Providence
permits me to come, or, as the text says, 'If the Lord will;' for we all know
that unless the Lord will, I cannot meet, or so much as live.
Not to understand me thus, is as much as to say, you do not understand me
to be a Christian, or to act like a Christian in any thing; and on the other
hand, they that understand it otherwise, I ought not to understand them to be
Christians. Nor should I be supposed to put any neglect or dishonour upon
the government of Providence in the world, or to suggest that I did not think
myself subjected to it, because I omitted the words in my appointment.
In like manner, when a man comes to me for money, I put him off: that, in
the first place, supposes I have not the money by me, or cannot spare it to
pay him at that time; if it were otherwise, it may be supposed I would pay
him just then. He is then perhaps impatient, and asks me when I will pay
him, and I tell him at such a time. This naturally supposes, that by that time
I expect to be supplied, so as to be able to pay; I have current bills, or
promises of money, to be paid me, or I expect the ordinary takings in my
shop or warehouse will supply me to make good my promise: thus my
promise is honest in its foundation, because I have reason to expect money
to come in to make me in a condition to perform it; but so it falls out,
contrary to my expectation, and contrary to the reason of things, I am
disappointed, and cannot do it; I am then, indeed, a trespasser upon my
creditor, whom I ought to have paid, and I am under affliction enough on
that account, and I suffer in my reputation for it also; but I cannot be said to

be a liar, an immoral man, a man that has no regard to my promise, and the
like; for at the same time I have perhaps used my utmost endeavour to do it,
but am prevented by many several men breaking promise with me, and I am
no way able to help myself.
It is objected to this, that then I should not make my promises absolute, but
conditional. To this I say, that the promises, as is above observed, are really
not absolute, but conditional in the very nature of them, and are understood
so when they are made, or else they that hear them do not understand them,
as all human appointments ought to be understood; I do confess, it would be
better not to make an absolute promise at all, but to express the condition or
reserve with the promise, and say, 'I will if I can,' or, 'I will if people are just
to me, and perform their promises to me.'
But to this I answer, the importunity of the person who demands the
payment will not permit it—nothing short of a positive promise will satisfy
—they never believe the person intends to perform if he makes the least
reserve or condition in his promise, though, at the same time, they know
that even the nature of the promise and the reason of the promise strongly
implies the condition—I say, the importunity of the creditor occasions the
breach, which he reproaches the debtor with the immorality of.[28]
Custom, indeed, has driven us beyond the limits of our morals in many
things, which trade makes necessary, and which we cannot now avoid; so
that if we must pretend to go back to the literal sense of the command; if
our yea must be yea, and our nay nay; if no man must go beyond, or
defraud his neighbour; if our conversation must be without covetousness,
and the like—why, then, it is impossible for tradesmen to be Christians, and
we must unhinge all business, act upon new principles in trade, and go on
by new rules—in short, we must shut up shop, and leave off trade, and so in
many things we must leave off living; for as conversation is called life, we
must leave off to converse: all the ordinary communication of life is now
full of lying; and what with table-lies, salutation-lies, and trading-lies, there
is no such thing as every man speaking truth with his neighbour.
But this is a subject would launch me out beyond the bounds of a chapter,
and make a book by itself. I return to the case particularly in hand—
promises of payment of money. Men in trade, I say, are under this unhappy

necessity, they are forced to make them, and they are forced to break them;
the violent pressing and dunning, and perhaps threatening too, of the
creditor, when the poor shopkeeper cannot comply with his demand, forces
him to promise; in short, the importunate creditor will not be otherwise put
off, and the poor shopkeeper, almost worried, and perhaps a little terrified
too, and afraid of him, is glad to do and say any thing to pacify him, and
this extorts a promise, which, when the time comes, he is no more able to
perform than he was before, and this multiplies promises, and consequently
breaches, so much of which are to be placed to the accounts of force, that I
must acknowledge, though the debtor is to blame, the creditor is too far
concerned in the crime of it to be excused, and it were to be wished some
other method could be found out to prevent the evil, and that tradesmen
would resolve with more courage to resist the importunities of the creditor,
be the consequence what it would, rather than break in upon their morals,
and load their consciences with the reproaches of it for all their lives after.
I remember I knew a tradesman, who, labouring long under the ordinary
difficulties of men embarrassed in trade, and past the possibility of getting
out, and being at last obliged to stop and call his people together, told me,
that after he was broke, though it was a terrible thing to him at first too, as it
is to most tradesmen, yet he thought himself in a new world, when he was
at a full stop, and had no more the terror upon him of bills coming for
payment, and creditors knocking at his door to dun him, and he without
money to pay. He was no more obliged to stand in his shop, and be bullied
and ruffled by his creditors, nay, by their apprentices and boys, and
sometimes by porters and footmen, to whom he was forced to give good
words, and sometimes strain his patience to the utmost limits: he was now
no more obliged to make promises, which he knew he could not perform,
and break promises as fast as he made them, and so lie continually both to
God and man; and, he added, the ease of his mind which he felt upon that
occasion was so great, that it balanced all the grief he was in at the general
disaster of his affairs; and, farther, that even in the lowest of his
circumstances which followed, he would not go back to live as he had done,
in the exquisite torture of want of money to pay his bills and his duns.
Nor was it any satisfaction to him to say, that it was owing to the like
breach of promise in the shopkeepers, and gentlemen, and people whom he
dealt with, who owed him money, and who made no conscience of

promising and disappointing him, and thereby drove him to the necessity of
breaking his own promises; for this did not satisfy his mind in the breaches
of his word, though they really drove him to the necessity of it: but that
which lay heaviest upon him was the violence and clamour of creditors,
who would not be satisfied without such promises, even when he knew, or
at least believed, he should not be able to perform.
Nay, such was the importunity of one of his merchants, that when he came
for money, and he was obliged to put him off, and to set him another day,
the merchant would not be satisfied, unless he would swear that he would
pay him on that day without fail. 'And what said you to him?' said I. 'Say to
him!' said he, 'I looked him full in the face, and sat me down without
speaking a word, being filled with rage and indignation at him; but after a
little while he insisted again, and asked me what answer I would make him,
at which I smiled, and asked him, if he were in earnest? He grew angry
then, and asked me if I laughed at him, and if I thought to laugh him out of
his money? I then asked him, if he really did expect I should swear that I
would pay him the next week, as I proposed to promise? He told me, yes,
he did, and I should swear it, or pay him before he went out of my
warehouse.
I wondered, indeed, at the discourse, and at the folly of the merchant, who, I
understood afterwards, was a foreigner; and though I thought he had been in
jest at first, when he assured me he was not, I was curious to hear the issue,
which at first he was loth to go on with, because he knew it would bring
about all the rest; but I pressed him to know—so he told me that the
merchant carried it to such a height as put him into a furious passion, and,
knowing he must break some time or other, he was resolved to put an end to
his being insulted in that manner; so at last he rose up in a rage, told the
merchant, that as no honest man could take such an oath, unless he had the
money by him to pay it, so no honest man could ask such a thing of him;
and that, since he must have an answer, his answer was, he would not swear
such an oath for him, nor any man living, and if he would not be satisfied
without it, he might do his worst—and so turned from him; and knowing
the man was a considerable creditor, and might do him a mischief, he
resolved to shut up that very night, and did so, carrying all his valuable
goods with him into the Mint, and the next day he heard that his angry
creditor waylaid him the same afternoon to arrest him, but he was too quick

for him; and, as he said, though it almost broke his heart to shut up his shop,
yet that being delivered from the insulting temper of his creditor, and the
perpetual perplexities of want of money to pay people when they dunned
him, and, above all, from the necessity of making solemn promises for
trifling sums, and then breaking them again, was to him like a load taken off
his back when he was weary, and could stand under it no longer; it was a
terror to him, he said, to be continually lying, breaking faith with all
mankind, and making promises which he could not perform.
This necessarily brings me to observe here, and it is a little for the ease of
the tradesman's mind in such severe cases, that there is a distinction to be
made in this case between wilful premeditated lying, and the necessity men
may be driven to by their disappointments, and other accidents of their
circumstances, to break such promises, as they had made with an honest
intention of performing them.
He that breaks a promise, however solemnly made, may be an honest man,
but he that makes a promise with a design to break it, or with no resolution
of performing it, cannot be so: nay, to carry it farther, he that makes a
promise, and does not do his endeavour to perform it, or to put himself into
a condition to perform it, cannot be an honest man. A promise once made
supposes the person willing to perform it, if it were in his power, and has a
binding influence upon the person who made it, so far as his power extends,
or that he can within the reach of any reasonable ability perform the
conditions; but if it is not in his power to perform it, as in this affair of
payment of money is often the case, the man cannot be condemned as
dishonest, unless it can be made appear, either
1. That when he made the promise, he knew he should not be able to
perform it; or,
2. That he resolved when he made the promise not to perform it, though he
should be in a condition to do it. And in both these cases the morality of
promising cannot be justified, any more than the immorality of not
performing it.
But, on the other hand, the person promising, honestly intending when he
made the appointment to perform it if possible, and endeavouring faithfully
to be able, but being rendered unable by the disappointment of those on

whose promises he depended for the performance of his own; I cannot say
that such a tradesman can be charged with lying, or with any immorality in
promising, for the breach was not properly his own, but the people's on
whom he depended; and this is justified from what I said before, namely,
that every promise of that kind supposes the possibility of such a
disappointment, even in the very nature of its making; for, if the man were
not under a moral incapacity of payment, he would not promise at all, but
pay at the time he promised. His promising, then, implies that he has only
something future to depend upon, to capacitate him for the payment; that is
to say, the appointments of payment by other tradesmen, who owe him (that
promises) the money, or the daily supply from the ordinary course of his
trade, suppose him a retailer in a shop, and the like; all which circumstances
are subject to contingencies and disappointments, and are known to be so
by the person to whom the promise is made; and it is with all those
contingencies and possibilities of disappointment, that he takes or accepts
the tradesman's promise, and forbears him, in hopes that he will be able to
perform, knowing, that unless he receives money as above, he cannot.
I must, however, acknowledge, that it is a very mortifying thing to a
tradesman, whether we suppose him to be one that values his credit in trade,
or his principle as to honest dealing, to be obliged to break his word; and
therefore, where men are not too much under the hatches to the creditor, and
they can possibly avoid it, a tradesman should not make his promises of
payment so positive, but rather conditional, and thereby avoid both the
immorality and the discredit of breaking his word; nor will any tradesman, I
hope, harden himself in a careless forwardness to promise, without
endeavouring or intending to perform, from any thing said in this chapter;
for be the excuse for it as good as it will, as to the point of strict honesty, he
can have but small regard to his own peace of mind, or to his own credit in
trade, who will not avoid it as much as possible.
FOOTNOTES:
[26]
[The practice of haggling about prices is now very properly
abandoned by all respectable dealers in goods, greatly to the
comfort of both sellers and buyers.]

[27]
[It was a fashion of trade in Defoe's time, and down to a
somewhat later period, to thrust the phrase 'God willing' into
almost every promise or announcement, the purport of which
might possibly be thwarted by death or any other accident. The
phrase, in particular, appeared at the beginning of all letters in
which a merchant announced his design of visiting retail dealers
in the provinces; as, 'God willing, I shall have the honour of
waiting on you on the 15th proximo:' hence English riders, or
commercial travellers, came to be known in Scotland by the
nickname of God-willings.' This pious phraseology seems now to
be banished from all mercantile affairs, except the shipping of
goods.]

[28]
[Notwithstanding all this ingenious reasoning, we cannot help
thinking that it would be better if conditional promises were made
in conditional language. It is not necessarily to be understood in
all cases that a direct unreserved promise means something
conditional, so that there is a liability to being much deceived and
grievously disappointed by all such promises. A sound morality
certainly demands that the tradesman should use the practices
described in the text as rarely, and with as much reluctance, as
possible, and that, like other men, he should make his words, as
nearly as may be, the echo of his thoughts.]

CHAPTER XVIII
OF THE CUSTOMARY FRAUDS OF TRADE, WHICH HONEST MEN
ALLOW THEMSELVES TO PRACTISE, AND PRETEND TO JUSTIFY

As there are trading lies which honest men tell, so there are frauds in trade,
which tradesmen daily practise, and which, notwithstanding, they think are
consistent with their being honest men.
It is certainly true, that few things in nature are simply unlawful and
dishonest, but that all crime is made so by the addition and concurrence of
circumstances; and of these I am now to speak: and the first I take notice of,
is that of taking and repassing, or putting off, counterfeit or false money.
It must be confessed, that calling in the old money in the time of the late
King William was an act particularly glorious to that reign, and in nothing
more than this, that it delivered trade from a terrible load, and tradesmen
from a vast accumulated weight of daily crime. There was scarce a
shopkeeper that had not a considerable quantity or bag full of false and
unpassable money; not an apprentice that kept his master's cash, but had an
annual loss, which they sometimes were unable to support, and sometimes
their parents and friends were called upon for the deficiency.
The consequence was, that every raw youth or unskilful body, that was sent
to receive money, was put upon by the cunning tradesmen, and all the bad
money they had was tendered in payment among the good, that by
ignorance or oversight some might possibly be made to pass; and as these
took it, so they were not wanting again in all the artifice and sleight of hand
they were masters of, to put it off again; so that, in short, people were made
bites and cheats to one another in all their business; and if you went but to
buy a pair of gloves, or stockings, or any trifle, at a shop, you went with bad
money in one hand, and good money in the other, proffering first the bad
coin, to get it off, if possible, and then the good, to make up the deficiency,
if the other was rejected.

Thus, people were daily upon the catch to cheat and surprise one another, if
they could; and, in short, paid no good money for anything, if they could
help it. And how did we triumph, if meeting with some poor raw servant, or
ignorant woman, behind a counter, we got off a counterfeit half-crown, or a
brass shilling, and brought away their goods (which were worth the said
half-crown or shilling, if it had been good) for a half-crown that was
perhaps not worth sixpence, or for a shilling not worth a penny: as if this
were not all one with picking the shopkeeper's pocket, or robbing his house!
The excuse ordinarily given for this practice was this—namely, that it came
to us for good; we took it, and it only went as it came; we did not make it,
and the like; as if, because we had been basely cheated by A, we were to be
allowed to cheat B; or that because C had robbed our house, that therefore
we might go and rob D.
And yet this was constantly practised at that time over the whole nation,
and by some of the honestest tradesmen among us, if not by all of them.
When the old money was, as I have said, called in, this cheating trade was
put to an end, and the morals of the nation in some measure restored—for,
in short, before that, it was almost impossible for a tradesman to be an
honest man; but now we begin to fall into it again, and we see the current
coin of the kingdom strangely crowded with counterfeit money again, both
gold and silver; and especially we have found a great deal of counterfeit
foreign money, as particularly Portugal and Spanish gold, such as moydores
and Spanish pistoles, which, when we have the misfortune to be put upon
with them, the fraud runs high, and dips deep into our pockets, the first
being twenty-seven shillings, and the latter seventeen shillings. It is true,
the latter being payable only by weight, we are not often troubled with
them; but the former going all by tale, great quantities of them have been
put off among us. I find, also, there is a great increase of late of counterfeit
money of our own coin, especially of shillings, and the quantity increasing,
so that, in a few years more, if the wicked artists are not detected, the
grievance may be in proportion as great as it was formerly, and perhaps
harder to be redressed, because the coin is not likely to be any more called
in, as the old smooth money was.

What, then, must be done? And how must we prevent the mischief to
conscience and principle which lay so heavy upon the whole nation before?
The question is short, and the answer would be as short, and to the purpose,
if people would but submit to the little loss that would fall upon them at
first, by which they would lessen the weight of it as they go on, as it would
never increase to such a formidable height as it was at before, nor would it
fall so much upon the poor as it did then.
First, I must lay it down as a stated rule or maxim, in the moral part of the
question—that to put off counterfeit base money for good money, knowing
it to be counterfeit, is dishonest and knavish.
Nor will it take off from the crime of it, or lessen the dishonesty, to say, 'I
took it for good and current money, and it goes as it comes;' for, as before,
my having been cheated does not authorise me to cheat any other person, so
neither was it a just or honest thing in that person who put the bad money
upon me, if they knew it to be bad; and if it were not honest in them, how
can it be so in me? If, then, it came by knavery, it should not go by knavery
—that would be, indeed, to say, it goes as it comes, in a literal sense; that is
to say, it came by injustice, and I shall make it go so: but that will not do in
matters of right and wrong.
The laws of our country, also, are directly against the practice; the law
condemns the coin as illegal—that is to say, it is not current money, or, as
the lawyers style it, it is not lawful money of England. Now, every bargain
or agreement in trade, is in the common and just acceptation, and the
language of trade, made for such a price or rate, in the current money of
England; and though you may not express it in words at length, it is so
understood, as much as if it were set down in writing. If I cheapen any thing
at a shop, suppose it the least toy or trifle, I ask them, 'What must you have
for it?' The shopkeeper answers—so much; suppose it were a shilling, what
is the English but this—one shilling of lawful money of England? And I
agree to give that shilling; but instead of it give them a counterfeit piece of
lead or tin, washed over, to make it look like a shilling. Do I pay them what
I bargained for? Do I give them one shilling of lawful money of England?
Do I not put a cheat upon them, and act against justice and mutual
agreement?

To say I took this for the lawful money of England, will not add at all,
except it be to the fraud; for my being deceived does not at all make it be
lawful money: so that, in a word, there can be nothing in that part but
increasing the criminal part, and adding one knave more to the number of
knaves which the nation was encumbered with before.
The case to me is very clear, namely, that neither by law, justice, nor
conscience, can the tradesman put off his bad money after he has taken it, if
he once knows it to be false and counterfeit money. That it is against the
law is evident, because it is not good and lawful money of England; it
cannot be honest, because you do not pay in the coin you agreed for, or
perform the bargain you made, or pay in the coin expected of you; and it is
not just, because you do not give a valuable consideration for the goods you
buy, but really take a tradesman's goods away, and return dross and dirt to
him in the room of it.
The medium I have to propose in the room of this, is, that every man who
takes a counterfeit piece of money, and knows it to be such, should
immediately destroy it—that is to say, destroy it as money, cut it in pieces;
or, as I have seen some honest tradesmen do, nail it up against a post, so
that it should go no farther. It is true, this is sinking so much upon himself,
and supporting the credit of the current coin at his own expense, and he
loses the whole piece, and this tradesmen are loth to do: but my answer is
very clear, that thus they ought to do, and that sundry public reasons, and
several public benefits, would follow to the public, in some of which he
might have his share of benefit hereafter, and if he had not, yet he ought to
do it.
First, by doing thus, he puts a stop to the fraud—that piece of money is no
more made the instrument to deceive others, which otherwise it might do;
and though it is true that the loss is only to the last man, that is to say, in the
ordinary currency of the money, yet the breach upon conscience and
principle is to every owner through whose hands that piece of money has
fraudulently passed, that is to say, who have passed it away for good,
knowing it to be counterfeit; so that it is a piece of good service to the
public to take away the occasion and instrument of so much knavery and
deceit.

Secondly, he prevents a worse fraud, which is, the buying and selling such
counterfeit money. This was a very wicked, but open trade, in former days,
and may in time come to be so again: fellows went about the streets, crying
'Brass money, broken or whole;' that is to say, they would give good money
for bad. It was at first pretended that they were obliged to cut it in pieces,
and if you insisted upon it, they would cut it in pieces before your face; but
they as often got it without that ceremony, and so made what wicked shifts
they could to get it off again, and many times did put it off for current
money, after they had bought it for a trifle.
Thirdly, by this fraud, perhaps, the same piece of money might, several
years after, come into your hands again, after you had sold it for a trifle, and
so you might lose by the same shilling two or three times over, and the like
of other people; but if men were obliged to demolish all the counterfeit
money they take, and let it go no farther, they they would be sure the fraud
could go no farther, nor would the quantity be ever great at a time; for
whatever quantity the false coiners should at any time make, it would
gradually lessen and sink away, and not a mass of false and counterfeit coin
appear together, as was formerly the case, and which lost the nation a vast
sum of money to call in.
It has been the opinion of some, that a penalty should be inflicted upon
those who offered any counterfeit money in payment; but besides that, there
is already a statute against uttering false money, knowing it to be such. If
any other or farther law should be made, either to enforce the statute, or to
have new penalties added, they would still fall into the same difficulties as
in the act.
1. That innocent men would suffer, seeing many tradesmen may take a
piece of counterfeit money in tale with other money, and really and bona
fide not know it, and so may offer it again as innocently as they at first took
it ignorantly; and to bring such into trouble for every false shilling which
they might offer to pay away without knowing it, would be to make the law
be merely vexatious and tormenting to those against whom it was not
intended, and at the same time not to meddle with the subtle crafty offender
whom it was intended to punish, and who is really guilty.

2. Such an act would be difficultly executed, because it would still be
difficult to know who did knowingly utter false money, and who did not;
which is the difficulty, indeed, in the present law—so that, upon the whole,
such a law would no way answer the end, nor effectually discover the
offender, much less suppress the practice. But I am not upon projects and
schemes—it is not the business of this undertaking.
But a general act, obliging all tradesmen to suppress counterfeit money, by
refusing to put it off again, after they knew it to be counterfeit, and a
general consent of tradesmen to do so; this would be the best way to put a
stop to the practice, the morality of which is so justly called in question, and
the ill consequences of which to trade are so very well known; nor will any
thing but a universal consent of tradesmen, in the honest suppressing of
counterfeit money, ever bring it to pass. In the meantime, as to the
dishonesty of the practice, however popular it is grown at this time, I think
it is out of question; it can have nothing but custom to plead for it, which is
so far from an argument, that I think the plea is criminal in itself, and really
adds to its being a grievance, and calls loudly for a speedy redress.
Another trading fraud, which, among many others of the like nature, I think
worth speaking of, is the various arts made use of by tradesmen to set off
their goods to the eye of the ignorant buyer.
I bring this in here, because I really think it is something of kin to putting
off counterfeit money; every false gloss put upon our woollen
manufactures, by hot-pressing, folding, dressing, tucking, packing,
bleaching, &c, what are they but washing over a brass shilling to make it
pass for sterling? Every false light, every artificial side-window, sky-light,
and trunk-light we see made to show the fine Hollands, lawns, cambrics,
&c. to advantage, and to deceive the buyer—what is it but a counterfeit coin
to cheat the tradesman's customers?—an ignis fatuus to impose upon fools
and ignorant people, and make their goods look finer than they are?
But where in trade is there any business entirely free from these frauds? and
how shall we speak of them, when we see them so universally made use of?
Either they are honest, or they are not. If they are not, why do we, I say,
universally make use of them?—if they are honest, why so much art and so
much application to manage them, and to make goods appear fairer and

finer to the eye than they really are?—which, in its own nature, is evidently
a design to cheat, and that in itself is criminal, and can be no other.
And yet there is much to be said for setting goods out to the best advantage
too; for in some goods, if they are not well dressed, well pressed, and
packed, the goods are not really shown in a true light; many of our woollen
manufactures, if brought to market rough and undressed, like a piece of
cloth not carried to the fulling or thicking mill, it does not show itself to a
just advantage, nay, it does not show what it really is; and therefore such
works as may be proper for so far setting it forth to the eye may be
necessary. For example:
The cloths, stuffs, serges, druggets, &c, which are brought to market in the
west and northern parts of England, and in Norfolk, as they are bought
without the dressing and making up, it may be said of them that they are
brought to market unfinished, and they are bought there again by the
wholesale dealers, or cloth-workers, tuckers, and merchants, and they carry
them to their warehouses and workhouses, and there they go through divers
operations again, and are finished for the market; nor, indeed, are they fit to
be shown till they are so; the stuffs are in the grease, the cloth is in the oil,
they are rough and foul, and are not dressed, and consequently not finished;
and as our buyers do not understand them till they are so dressed, it is no
proper finishing the goods to bring them to market before—they are not,
indeed, properly said to be made till that part is done.
Therefore I cannot call all those setting-out of goods to be knavish and
false; but when the goods, like a false shilling, are to be set out with fraud
and false colours, and made smooth and shining to delude the eye, there,
where they are so, it is really a fraud; and though in some cases it extremely
differs, yet that does not excuse the rest by any means.
The packers and hot-pressers, tuckers, and cloth-workers, are very
necessary people in their trades, and their business is to set goods off to the
best advantage; but it may be said, too, that their true and proper business is
to make the goods show what really they are, and nothing else. It is true, as
above, that in the original dress, as a piece of cloth or drugget, or stuff,
comes out of the hand of the maker, it does not show itself as it really is,
nor what it should and ought to show: thus far these people are properly

called finishers of the manufactures, and their work is not lawful only, but it
is a doing justice to the manufacture.
But if, by the exuberances of their art, they set the goods in a false light,
give them a false gloss, a finer and smoother surface than really they have:
this is like a painted jade, who puts on a false colour upon her tawny skin to
deceive and delude her customers, and make her seem the beauty which she
has no just claim to the name of.
So far as art is thus used to show these goods to be what they really are not,
and deceive the buyer, so far it is a trading fraud, which is an unjustifiable
practice in business, and which, like coining of counterfeit money, is
making goods to pass for what they really are not; and is done for the
advantage of the person who puts them off, and to the loss of the buyer,
who is cheated and deceived by the fraud.
The making false lights, sky-lights, trunks, and other contrivances, to make
goods look to be what they are not, and to deceive the eye of the buyer,
these are all so many brass shillings washed over, in order to deceive the
person who is to take them, and cheat him of his money; and so far these
false lights are really criminal, they are cheats in trade, and made to deceive
the world; to make deformity look like beauty, and to varnish over
deficiencies; to make goods which are ordinary in themselves appear fine;
to make things which are ill made look well; in a word, they are cheats in
themselves, but being legitimated by custom, are become a general practice;
the honestest tradesmen have them, and make use of them; the buyer knows
of it, and suffers himself to be so imposed upon; and, in a word, if it be a
cheat, as no doubt it is, they tell us that yet it is a universal cheat, and
nobody trades without it; so custom and usage make it lawful, and there is
little to be said but this, Si populus vult decepi, decipiatur—if the people
will be cheated, let them be cheated, or they shall be cheated.
I come next to the setting out their goods to the buyer by the help of their
tongue; and here I must confess our shop rhetoric is a strange kind of
speech; it is to be understood in a manner by itself; it is to be taken, not in a
latitude only, but in such a latitude as indeed requires as many flourishes to
excuse it, as it contains flourishes in itself.

The end of it, indeed, is corrupt, and it is also made up of a corrupt
composition; it is composed of a mass of rattling flattery to the buyer, and
that filled with hypocrisy, compliment, self-praises, falsehood, and, in short,
a complication of wickedness; it is a corrupt means to a vicious end: and I
cannot see any thing in it but what a wise man laughs at, a good man
abhors, and any man of honesty avoids as much as possible.
The shopkeeper ought, indeed, to have a good tongue, but he should not
make a common prostitute of his tongue, and employ it to the wicked
purpose of abusing and imposing upon all that come to deal with him. There
is a modest liberty, which trading licence, like the poetic licence, allows to
all the tradesmen of every kind: but tradesmen ought no more to lie behind
the counter, than the parsons ought to talk treason in the pulpit.
Let them confine themselves to truth, and say what they will. But it cannot
be done; a talking rattling mercer, or draper, or milliner, behind his counter,
would be worth nothing if he should confine himself to that mean silly thing
called truth—they must lie; it is in support of their business, and some think
they cannot live without it; but I deny that part, and recommend it, I mean
to the tradesmen I am speaking of, to consider what a scandal it is upon
trade, to pretend to say that a tradesman cannot live without lying, the
contrary to which may be made appear in almost every article.
On the other hand, I must do justice to the tradesmen, and must say, that
much of it is owing to the buyers—they begin the work, and give the
occasion. It was the saying of a very good shopman once upon this
occasion, 'That their customers would not be pleased without lying; and
why,' said he, 'did Solomon reprove the buyer?—he said nothing to the
shopkeeper—"It is naught, it is naught," says the buyer; "but when he goes
away, then he boasteth" (Prov. xx. 14.) The buyer telling us,' adds he, 'that
every thing is worse than it is, forces us, in justifying its true value, to tell
them it is better than it is.'
It must be confessed, this verbose way of trading is most ridiculous, as well
as offensive, both in buyer and seller; and as it adds nothing to the goodness
or value of the goods, so, I am sure, it adds nothing to the honesty or good
morals of the tradesman, on one side or other, but multiplies trading-lies on

every side, and brings a just reproach on the integrity of the dealer, whether
he be the buyer or seller.
It was a kind of a step to the cure of this vice in trade, for such it is, that
there was an old office erected in the city of London, for searching and
viewing all the goods which were sold in bulk, and could not be searched
into by the buyer—this was called garbling; and the garbler having viewed
the goods, and caused all damaged or unsound goods to be taken out, set his
seal upon the case or bags which held the rest, and then they were vouched
to be marketable, so that when the merchant and the shopkeeper met to
deal, there was no room for any words about the goodness of the wares;
there was the garbler's seal to vouch that they were marketable and good,
and if they were otherwise, the garbler was answerable.
This respected some particular sorts of goods only, and chiefly spices and
drugs, and dye-stuffs, and the like. It were well if some other method than
that of a rattling tongue could be found out, to ascertain the goodness and
value of goods between the shopkeeper and the retail buyer, that such a flux
of falsehoods and untruths might be avoided, as we see every day made use
of to run up and run down every thing that is bought or sold, and that
without any effect too; for, take it one time with another, all the
shopkeeper's lying does not make the buyer like the goods at all the better,
nor does the buyer's lying make the shopkeeper sell the cheaper.
It would be worth while to consider a little the language that passes between
the tradesman and his customer over the counter, and put it into plain
homespun English, as the meaning of it really imports. We would not take
that usage if it were put into plain words—it would set all the shopkeepers
and their customers together by the ears, and we should have fighting and
quarrelling, instead of bowing and curtseying, in every shop. Let us hark a
little, and hear how it would sound between them. A lady comes into a
mercer's shop to buy some silks, or to the laceman's to buy silver laces, or
the like; and when she pitches upon a piece which she likes, she begins
thus:
Lady.—I like that colour and that figure well enough, but I don't like the
silk—there is no substance in it.
Mer.—Indeed, Madam, your ladyship lies—it is a very substantial silk.

Lady.—No, no! you lie indeed, Sir; it is good for nothing; it will do no
service.
Mer.—Pray, Madam, feel how heavy it is; you will find it is a lie; the very
weight of it may satisfy you that you lie, indeed, Madam.
Lady.—Come, come, show me a better piece; I am sure you have better.
Mer.—Indeed, Madam, your ladyship lies; I may show you more pieces, but
I cannot show you a better; there is not a better piece of silk of that sort in
London, Madam.
Lady.—Let me see that piece of crimson there.
Mer.—Here it is, Madam.
Lady.—No, that won't do neither; it is not a good colour.
Mer.—Indeed, Madam, you lie; it is as fine a colour as can be dyed.
Lady.—Oh fy! you lie, indeed, Sir; why, it is not in grain.
Mer.—Your ladyship lies, upon my word, Madam; it is in grain, indeed, and
as fine as can be dyed.
I might make this dialogue much longer, but here is enough to set the
mercer and the lady both in a flame, and to set the shop in an uproar, if it
were but spoken out in plain language, as above; and yet what is all the
shop-dialect less or more than this? The meaning is plain—it is nothing but
you lie, and you lie—downright Billingsgate, wrapped up in silk and satin,
and delivered dressed finely up in better clothes than perhaps it might come
dressed in between a carman and a porter.
How ridiculous is all the tongue-padding flutter between Miss Tawdry, the
sempstress, and Tattle, my lady's woman, at the change-shop, when the
latter comes to buy any trifle! and how many lies, indeed, creep into every
part of trade, especially of retail trade, from the meanest to the uppermost
part of business!—till, in short, it is grown so scandalous, that I much
wonder the shopkeepers themselves do not leave it off, for the mere shame
of its simplicity and uselessness.

But habits once got into use are very rarely abated, however ridiculous they
are; and the age is come to such a degree of obstinate folly, that nothing is
too ridiculous for them, if they please but to make a custom of it.
I am not for making my discourse a satire upon the shopkeepers, or upon
their customers: if I were, I could give a long detail of the arts and tricks
made use of behind the counter to wheedle and persuade the buyer, and
manage the selling part among shopkeepers, and how easily and
dexterously they draw in their customers; but this is rather work for a ballad
and a song: my business is to tell the complete tradesman how to act a wiser
part, to talk to his customers like a man of sense and business, and not like a
mountebank and his merry-andrew; to let him see that there is a way of
managing behind a counter, that, let the customer be what or how it will,
man or woman, impertinent or not impertinent—for sometimes, I must say,
the men customers are every jot as impertinent as the women; but, I say, let
them be what they will, and how they will, let them make as many words as
they will, and urge the shopkeeper how they will, he may behave himself so
as to avoid all those impertinences, falsehoods, follish and wicked
excursions which I complain of, if he pleases.
It by no means follows, that because the buyer is foolish, the seller must be
so too; that because the buyer has a never-ceasing tongue, the seller must
rattle as fast as she; that because she tells a hundred lies to run down his
goods, he must tell another hundred to run them up; and that because she
belies the goods one way, he must do the same the other way.
There is a happy medium in these things. The shopkeeper, far from being
rude to his customers on one hand, or sullen and silent on the other, may
speak handsomely and modestly, of his goods; what they deserve, and no
other; may with truth, and good manners too, set forth his goods as they
ought to be set forth; and neither be wanting to the commodity he sells, nor
run out into a ridiculous extravagance of words, which have neither truth of
fact nor honesty of design in them.
Nor is this middle way of management at all less likely to succeed, if the
customers have any share of sense in them, or the goods he shows any merit
to recommend them; and I must say, I believe this grave middle way of
discoursing to a customer, is generally more effectual, and more to the

purpose, and more to the reputation of the shopkeeper, than a storm of
words, and a mouthful of common, shop-language, which makes a noise,
but has little in it to plead, except to here and there a fool that can no
otherwise be prevailed with.
It would be a terrible satire upon the ladies, to say that they will not be
pleased or engaged either with good wares or good pennyworths, with
reasonable good language, or good manners, but they must have the
addition of long harangues, simple, fawning, and flattering language, and a
flux of false and foolish words, to set off the goods, and wheedle them in to
lay out their money; and that without these they are not to be pleased.
But let the tradesman try the honest part, and stand by that, keeping a stock
of fashionable and valuable goods in his shop to show, and I dare say he
will run no venture, nor need he fear customers; if any thing calls for the
help of noise, and rattling words, it must be mean and sorry, unfashionable,
and ordinary goods, together with weak and silly buyers; and let the buyers
that chance to read this remember, that whenever they find the shopkeeper
begins his noise, and makes his fine speeches, they ought to suppose he (the
shopkeeper) has trash to bring out, and believes he has fools to show it to.

CHAPTER XIX
OF FINE SHOPS, AND FINE SHOWS

It is a modern custom, and wholly unknown to our ancestors, who yet
understood trade, in proportion to the trade they carried on, as well as we
do, to have tradesmen lay out two-thirds of their fortune in fitting up their
shops.
By fitting up, I do not mean furnishing their shops with wares and goods to
sell—for in that they came up to us in every particular, and perhaps went
beyond us too—but in painting and gilding, fine shelves, shutters, boxes,
glass-doors, sashes, and the like, in which, they tell us now, it is a small
matter to lay out two or three hundred pounds, nay, five hundred pounds, to
fit up a pastry-cook's, or a toy-shop.
The first inference to be drawn from this must necessarily be, that this age
must have more fools than the last: for certainly fools only are most taken
with shows and outsides.
It is true, that a fine show of goods will bring customers; and it is not a new
custom, but a very old one, that a new shop, very well furnished, goes a
great way to bringing a trade; for the proverb was, and still is, very true,
that every body has a penny for a new shop; but that a fine show of shelves
and glass-windows should bring customers, that was never made a rule in
trade till now.
And yet, even now, I should not except so much against it, if it were not
carried on to such an excess, as is too much for a middling tradesman to
bear the expense of. In this, therefore, it is made not a grievance only, but
really scandalous to trade; for now, a young beginner has such a tax upon
him before he begins, that he must sink perhaps a third part, nay, a half part,
of his stock, in painting and gilding, wainscoting and glazing, before he
begins to trade, nay, before he can open his shop. As they say of building a

watermill, two-thirds of the expense lies under the water; and when the poor
tradesman comes to furnish his shop, and lay in his stock of goods, he finds
a great hole made in his cash to the workmen, and his show of goods, on
which the life of his trade depends, is fain to be lessened to make up his
show of boards, and glass to lay them in.
Nor is this heavy article to be abated upon any account; for if he does not
make a good show, he comes abroad like a mean ordinary fellow, and
nobody of fashion comes to his shop; the customers are drawn away by the
pictures and painted shelves, though, when they come there, they are not
half so well filled as in other places, with goods fit for a trade; and how,
indeed, should it be otherwise? the joiners and painters, glaziers and
carvers, must have all ready money; the weavers and merchants may give
credit; their goods are of so much less moment to the shopkeeper, that they
must trust; but the more important show must be finished first, and paid
first; and when that has made a deep hole in the tradesman's stock, then the
remainder may be spared to furnish the shop with goods, and the merchant
must trust for the rest.
It will hardly be believed in ages to come, when our posterity shall be
grown wiser by our loss, and, as I may truly say, at our expense, that a
pastry-cook's shop, which twenty pounds would effectually furnish at a
time, with all needful things for sale, nay, except on an extraordinary show,
as on twelfth-day at night for cakes, or upon some great feast, twenty
pounds can hardly be laid out at one time in goods for sale, yet that fitting
up one of these shops should cost upwards of £300 in the year 1710—let
the year be recorded—the fitting up to consist of the following particulars:
—
1. Sash windows, all of looking-glass plates, 12 inches by 16 inches in
measure.
2. All the walls of the shop lined up with galley-tiles, and the back shop
with galley-tiles in panels, finely painted in forest-work and figures.
3. Two large pier looking-glasses and one chimney glass in the shop, and
one very large pier-glass seven feet high in the back shop.

4. Two large branches of candlesticks, one in the shop, and one in the back
room.
5. Three great glass lanterns in the shop, and eight small ones.
6. Twenty-five sconces against the wall, with a large pair of silver standing
candlesticks in the back room, value £25.
7. Six fine large silver salvers to serve sweetmeats.
8. Twelve large high stands of rings, whereof three silver, to place small
dishes for tarts, jellies, &c., at a feast.
9. Painting the ceiling, and gilding the lanterns, the sashes, and the carved
work, £55.
These, with some odd things to set forth the shop, and make a show, besides
small plate, and besides china basins and cups, amounted to, as I am well
informed, above £300.
Add to this the more necessary part, which was:—
1. Building two ovens, about £25.
2. Twenty pounds in stock for pies, cheese-cakes, &c.
So that, in short, here was a trade which might be carried on for about £30
or £40 stock, required £300 expenses to fit up the shop, and make a show to
invite customers.
I might give something of a like example of extravagance in fitting up a
cutler's shop, Anglicé a toyman, which are now come up to such a
ridiculous expense, as is hardly to be thought of without the utmost
contempt: let any one stop at the Temple, or at Paul's corner, or in many
other places.
As to the shops of the more considerable trades, they all bear a proportion
of the humour of the times, but do not call for so loud a remark. Leaving,
therefore, the just reflection which such things call for, let me bring it home
to the young tradesman, to whom I am directing this discourse, and to
whom I am desirous to give solid and useful hints for his instruction, I

would recommend it to him to avoid all such needless expenses, and rather
endeavour to furnish his shop with goods, than to paint and gild it over, to
make it fine and gay; let it invite customers rather by the well-filled presses
and shelves, and the great choice of rich and fashionable goods, that one
customer being well-served may bring another; and let him study to bring
his shop into reputation for good choice of wares, and good attendance on
his customers; and this shall bring a throng to him much better, and of much
better people, than those that go in merely for a gay shop.
Let the shop be decent and handsome, spacious as the place will allow, and
let something like the face of a master be always to be seen in it; and, if
possible, be always busy, and doing something in it, that may look like
being employed: this takes as much with the wiser observers of such things,
as any other appearance can do.
I have heard of a young apothecary, who setting up in a part of the town,
where he had not much acquaintance, and fearing much whether he should
get into business, hired a man acquainted with such business, and made him
be every morning between five and six, and often late in the evenings,
working very hard at the great mortar; pounding and beating, though he had
nothing to do with it, but beating some very needless thing, that all his
neighbours might hear it, and find that he was in full employ, being at work
early and late, and that consequently he must be a man of vast business, and
have a great practice: and the thing was well laid, and took accordingly; for
the neighbours, believing he had business, brought business to him; and the
reputation of having a trade, made a trade for him.
The observation is just: a show may bring some people to a shop, but it is
the fame of business that brings business; and nothing raises the fame of a
shop like its being a shop of good trade already; then people go to it,
because they think other people go to it, and because they think there is
good choice of goods; their gilding and painting may go a little way, but it
is the having a shop well filled with goods,[29] having good choice to sell,
and selling reasonable—these are the things that bring a trade, and a trade
thus brought will stand by you and last; for fame of trade brings trade
anywhere.

It is a sign of the barrenness of the people's fancy, when they are so easily
taken with shows and outsides of things. Never was such painting and
gilding, such sashings and looking-glasses among the shopkeepers, as there
is now; and yet trade flourished more in former times by a gread deal that it
does now, if we may believe the report of very honest and understanding
men. The reason, I think, cannot be to the credit of the present age, nor it it
to the discredit of the former; for they carried on their trade with less gaiety,
and with less expense, than we do now.[30]
My advice to a young tradesman is to keep the safe middle between these
extremes; something the times must be humoured in, because fashion and
custom must be followed; but let him consider the depth of his stock, and
not lay out half his estate upon fitting up his shop, and then leave but the
other half to furnish it; it is much better to have a full shop, than a fine
shop; and a hundred pounds in goods will make a much better show than a
hundred pounds' worth of painting and carved work; it is good to make a
show, but not to be all show.
It is true, that painting and adorning a shop seems to intimate, that the
tradesman has a large stock to begin with, or else they suggest he would not
make such a show; hence the young shopkeepers are willing to make a great
show, and beautify, and paint, and gild, and carve, because they would be
thought to have a great stock to begin with; but let me tell you, the
reputation of having a great stock is ill purchased, when half your stock is
laid out to make the world believe it; that is, in short, reducing yourself to a
small stock to have the world believe you have a great one; in which you do
no less than barter the real stock for the imaginary, and give away your
stock to keep the name of it only.
I take this indeed to be a French humour, or a spice of it turned English;
and, indeed, we are famous for this, that when we do mimic the French, we
generally do it to our hurt, and over-do the French themselves.
The French nation are eminent for making a fine outside, when perhaps
within they want necessaries; and, indeed, a gay shop and a mean stock is
something like the Frenchman with his laced ruffles, without a shirt. I
cannot but think a well-furnished shop with a moderate outside is much
better to a tradesman, than a fine shop and few goods; I am sure it will be

much more to his satisfaction, when he casts up his year's account, for his
fine shop will weigh but sorrily in his account of profit and loss; it is all a
dead article; it is sunk out of his first money, before he makes a shilling
profit, and may be some years a-recovering, as trade may go with him.
It is true that all these notions of mine in trade are founded upon the
principle of frugality and good husbandry; and this is a principle so
disagreeable to the times, and so contrary to the general practice, that we
shall find very few people to whom it is agreeable. But let me tell my young
tradesmen, that if they must banish frugality and good husbandry, they must
at the same time banish all expectation of growing rich by their trade. It is a
maxim in commerce, that money gets money, and they that will not frugally
lay up their gain, in order to increase their gain, must not expect to gain as
they might otherwise do; frugality may be out of fashion among the gentry,
but if it comes to be so among tradesmen, we shall soon see that wealthy
tradesmen will be hard to find; for they who will not save as well as gain,
must expect to go out of trade as lean as they began.
Some people tell us indeed in many cases, especially in trade, that putting a
good face upon things goes as far as the real merit of the things themselves;
and that a fine, painted, gilded shop, among the rest, has a great influence
upon the people, draws customers, and brings trade; and they run a great
length in this discourse by satirising on the blindness and folly of mankind,
and how the world are to be taken in their own way; and seeing they are to
be deluded and imposed upon in such an innocent way, they ought to be so
far deluded and imposed upon, alluding to the old proverbial saying, 'Si
populus vult decipi, decipiatur;' that it is no fraud, no crime, and can neither
be against conscience, nor prudence; for if they are pleased with a show,
why should they not have it? and the like.
This way of talking is indeed plausible; and were the fact true, there might
be more in it than I think there is. But I do not grant that the world is thus to
be deluded; and that the people do follow this rule in general—I mean, go
always to a fine shop to lay out their money. Perhaps, in some cases, it may
be so, where the women, and the weakest of the sex too, are chiefly
concerned; or where the fops and fools of the age resort; and as to those
few, they that are willing to be so imposed upon, let them have it.

But I do not see, that even this extends any farther than to a few toy-shops,
and pastry-cooks; and the customers of both these are not of credit
sufficient, I think, to weigh in this case: we may as well argue for the fine
habits at a puppet-show and a rope-dancing, because they draw the mob
about them; but I cannot think, after you go but one degree above these, the
thing is of any weight, much less does it bring credit to the tradesman,
whatever it may do to the shop.
The credit of a tradesman respects two sorts of people, first, the merchants,
or wholesale men, or makers, who sell him his goods, or the customers,
who come to his shop to buy.
The first of these are so far from valuing him upon the gay appearance of
his shop, that they are often the first that take an offence at it, and suspect
his credit upon that account: their opinion upon a tradesman, and his credit
with them, is raised quite another way, namely, by his current pay, diligent
attendance, and honest figure; the gay shop does not help him at all there,
but rather the contrary.
As to the latter, though some customers may at first be drawn by the gay
appearance and fine gilding and painting of a shop, yet it is the well sorting
a shop with goods, and the selling good pennyworths, that will bring trade,
especially after the shop has been open some time: this, and this only,
establishes the man and the credit of the shop.
To conclude: the credit raised by the fine show of things is also of a
different kind from the substantial reputation of a tradesman; it is rather the
credit of the shop, than of the man; and, in a word, it is no more or less than
a net spread to catch fools; it is a bait to allure and deceive, and the
tradesman generally intends it so. He intends that the customers shall pay
for the gilding and painting his shop, and it is the use he really makes of it,
namely, that his shop looking like something eminent, he may sell dearer
than his neighbours: who, and what kind of fools can so be drawn in, it is
easy to describe, but satire is none of our business here.
On the contrary, the customers, who are the substantial dependence of a
tradesman's shop, are such as are gained and preserved by good usage, good
pennyworths, good wares, and good choice; and a shop that has the
reputation of these four, like good wine that needs no bush, needs no

painting and gilding, no carved works and ornaments;[31] it requires only a
diligent master and a faithful servant, and it will never want a trade.
FOOTNOTES:
[29]
[In another place, the author recommends a light stock, as
showing a nimble trade. There can be little doubt that he is more
reasonable here. A considerable abundance of goods is certainly
an attraction to a shop. No doubt, a tradesman with little capital
would only be incurring certain ruin having a larger stock than he
could readily pay for. He must needs keep a small stock, if he
would have a chance at all of doing well in the world. But this
does not make it the less an advantage to a tradesman of good
capital to keep an abundant and various stock of goods.]

[30]
[It is really curious to find in this chapter the same contrast drawn
between the old and the new style of fitting up shops, and
carrying on business, as would be drawn at the present day by
nine out of every ten common observers. The notion that the
shops of the past age were plain, while those of the present are
gaudy, and that the tradesmen of a past age carried on all their
business in a quiet way and with little expense, is as strongly
impressed on the minds of the present generation, as it is here
seen to have been on those of Defoe's contemporaries, a hundred
and twenty years ago, although it is quite impossible that the
notion can be just in both cases. The truth probably is, that in
Defoe's time, and at all former times, there were conspicuous, but
not very numerous, examples of finely decorated shops, which
seemed, and really were, very much of a novelty, as well as a
rather striking exception from the style in which such places in
general were then, and had for many years been furnished. So far,
however, from these proving, as Defoe anticipates, a warning to
future generations, the general appearance of shops has
experienced a vast improvement since those days; and the third-

rate class are now probably as fine as the first-rate were at no
distant period. At the same time, as in the reign of the first
George, we have now also a few shops fitted up in a style of
extraordinary and startling elegance, and thus forming that
contrast with the general appearance of shops for the last forty
years, which makes old people, and many others, talk of all the
past as homely and moderate, and all the present as showy and
expensive.]

[31]
[The author seems here to carry his objections to decoration to an
extreme. Good usage, good pennyworths, good wares, and good
choice, are doubtless the four cardinal points of business; but a
handsome shop also goes a considerable way in attracting
customers, and is a principle which no prudent tradesman will
despise.]

CHAPTER XX
OF THE TRADESMAN'S KEEPING HIS BOOKS, AND CASTING UP
HIS SHOP

It was an ancient and laudable custom with tradesmen in England always to
balance their accounts of stock, and of profit and loss, at least once every
year; and generally it was done at Christmas, or New-year's tide, when they
could always tell whether they went backward or forward, and how their
affairs stood in the world; and though this good custom is very much lost
among tradesmen at this time, yet there are a great many that do so still, and
they generally call it casting up shop. To speak the truth, the great occasion
of omitting it has been from the many tradesmen, who do not care to look
into things, and who, fearing their affairs are not right, care not to know
how they go at all, good or bad; and when I see a tradesman that does not
cast up once a-year, I conclude that tradesman to be in very bad
circumstances, that at least he fears he is so, and by consequence cares not
to inquire.
As casting up the shop is the way to know every year whether he goes
backward or forward, and is the tradesman's particular satisfaction, so he
must cast up his books too, or else it will be very ominous to the
tradesman's credit.
Now, in order to doing this effectually once a-year, it is needful the
tradesman should keep his books always in order; his day-book duly posted,
his cash duly balanced, and all people's accounts always fit for a view. He
that delights in his trade will delight in his books; and, as I said that he that
will thrive must diligently attend his shop or warehouse, and take up his
delight there, so, I say now, he must also diligently keep his books, or else
he will never know whether he thrives or no.
Exact keeping his books is one essential part of a tradesman's prosperity.
The books are the register of his estate, the index of his stock. All the

tradesman has in the world must be found in these three articles, or some of
them:—
Goods in the shop; Money in cash; Debts abroad.
The shop will at any time show the first of these upon a small stop to cast it
up; the cash-chest and bill-box will show the second at demand; and the
ledger when posted will show the last; so that a tradesman can at any time,
at a week's notice, cast up all these three; and then, examining his accounts,
to take the balance, which is a real trying what he is worth in the world.
It cannot be satisfactory to any tradesman to let his books go unsettled, and
uncast up, for then he knows nothing of himself, or of his circumstances in
the world; the books can tell him at any time what his condition is, and will
satisfy him what is the condition of his debts abroad.
In order to his regular keeping his books, several things might be said very
useful for the tradesman to consider:
I. Every thing done in the whole circumference of his trade must be set
down in a book, except the retail trade; and this is clear, if the goods are not
in bulk, then the money is in cash, and so the substance will be always
found either there, or somewhere else; for if it is neither in the shop, nor in
the cash, nor in the books, it must be stolen and lost.
II. As every thing done must be set down in the books, so it should be done
at the very time of it; all goods sold must be entered in the books before
they are sent out of the house; goods sent away and not entered, are goods
lost; and he that does not keep an exact account of what goes out and comes
in, can never swear to his books, or prove his debts, if occasion calls for it.
I am not going to set down rules here for book-keeping, or to teach the
tradesman how to do it, but I am showing the necessity and usefulness of
doing it at all. That tradesman who keeps no books, may depend upon it he
will ere long keep no trade, unless he resolves also to give no credit. He that
gives no trust, and takes no trust, either by wholesale or by retail, and keeps
his cash all himself, may indeed go on without keeping any books at all;
and has nothing to do, when he would know his estate, but to cast up his
shop and his cash, and see how much they amount to, and that is his whole
and neat estate; for as he owes nothing, so nobody is in debt to him, and all

his estate is in his shop; but I suppose the tradesman that trades wholly thus,
is not yet born, or if there ever were any such, they are all dead.
A tradesman's books, like a Christian's conscience, should always be kept
clean and clear; and he that is not careful of both will give but a sad account
of himself either to God or man. It is true, that a great many tradesmen, and
especially shopkeepers, understand but little of book-keeping; but it is as
true that they all understand something of it, or else they will make but poor
work of shopkeeping.
I knew a tradesman that could not write, and yet he supplied the defect with
so many ingenious knacks of his own, to secure the account of what people
owed him, and was so exact doing it, and then took such care to have but
very short accounts with any body, that he brought up his method to be
every way an equivalent to writing; and, as I often told him, with half the
study and application that those things cost him, he might have learned to
write, and keep books too. He made notches upon sticks for all the middling
sums, and scored with chalk for lesser things. He had drawers for every
particular customer's name, which his memory supplied, for he knew every
particular drawer, though he had a great many, as well as if their faces had
been painted upon them; he had innumerable figures to signify what he
would have written, if he could; and his shelves and boxes always put me in
mind of the Egyptian hieroglyphics, and nobody understood them, or any
thing of them, but himself.
It was an odd thing to see him, when a country-chap, came up to settle
accounts with him; he would go to a drawer directly, among such a number
as was amazing: in that drawer was nothing but little pieces of split sticks,
like laths, with chalk-marks on them, all as unintelligible as the signs of the
zodiac are to an old school-mistress that teaches the horn-book and primer,
or as Arabic or Greek is to a ploughman. Every stick had notches on one
side for single pounds, on the other side for tens of pounds, and so higher;
and the length and breadth also had its signification, and the colour too; for
they were painted in some places with one colour, and in some places with
anther; by which he knew what goods had been delivered for the money:
and his way of casting up was very remarkable, for he knew nothing of
figures; but he kept six spoons in a place on purpose, near his counter,

which he took out when he had occasion to cast up any sum, and, laying the
spoons in a row before him, he counted upon them thus:
One, two, three, and another, one odd spoon, and t'other
||||||
By this he told up to six; if he had any occasion to tell any farther, he began
again, as we do after the number ten in our ordinary numeration; and by this
method, and running them up very quick, he would count any number under
thirty-six, which was six spoons of six spoons, and then, by the strength of
his head, he could number as many more as he pleased, multiplying them
always by sixes, but never higher.
I give this instance to show how far the application of a man's head might
go to supply the defect, but principally to show (and it does abundantly
show it) what an absolute necessity there is for a tradesman to be very
diligent and exact in keeping his books, and what pains those who
understand their business will always take to do it.
This tradesman was indeed a country shopkeeper; but he was so
considerable a dealer, that he became mayor of the city which he lived in
(for it was a city, and that a considerable city too), and his posterity have
been very considerable traders in the same city ever since, and they show
their great-grandfather's six counting spoons and his hieroglyphics to this
day.
After some time, the old tradesman bred up two of his sons to his business,
and the young men having learned to write, brought books into the
counting-house, things their father had never used before; but the old man
kept to his old method for all that, and would cast up a sum, and make up an
account with his spoons and his drawers, as soon as they could with their
pen and ink, if it were not too full of small articles, and that he had always
avoided in his business.
However, as I have said above, this evidently shows the necessity of book-
keeping to a tradesman, and the very nature of the thing evidences also that
it must be done with the greatest exactness. He that does not keep his books
exactly, and so as that he may depend upon them for charging his debtors,
had better keep no books at all, but, like my shopkeeper, score and notch

every thing; for as books well kept make business regular, easy, and certain,
so books neglected turn all into confusion, and leave the tradesman in a
wood, which he can never get out of without damage and loss. If ever his
dealers know that his books are ill kept, they play upon him, and impose
horrid forgeries and falsities upon him: whatever he omits they catch at, and
leave it out; whatever they put upon him, he is bound to yield to; so that, in
short, as books well kept are the security of the tradesman's estate, and the
ascertaining of his debts, so books ill kept will assist every knavish
customer or chapman to cheat and deceive him.
Some men keep a due and exact entry or journal of all they sell, or perhaps
of all they buy or sell, but are utterly remiss in posting it forward to a
ledger; that is to say, to another book, where every parcel is carried to the
debtor's particular account. Likewise they keep another book, where they
enter all the money they receive, but, as above, never keeping any account
for the man; there it stands in the cash-book, and both these books must be
ransacked over for the particulars, as well of goods sold, as of the money
received, when this customer comes to have his account made up; and as
the goods are certainly entered when sold or sent away, and the money is
certainly entered when it is received, this they think is sufficient, and all the
rest superfluous.
I doubt not such tradesmen often suffer as much by their slothfulness and
neglect of book-keeping, as might, especially if their business is
considerable, pay for a book-keeper; for what is such a man's case, when his
customer, suppose a country dealer, comes to town, which perhaps he does
once a-year (as in the custom of other tradesmen), and desires to have his
account made up? The London tradesman goes to his books, and first he
rummages his day-book back for the whole year, and takes out the foot[32]
of all the parcels sent to his chapman, and they make the debtor side of the
account; then he takes his cash-book, if it deserves that name, and there he
takes out all the sums of money which the chapman has sent up, or bills
which he has received, and these make the creditor side of the account; and
so the balance is drawn out, and this man thinks himself a mighty good
accountant, that he keeps his books exactly; and so perhaps he does, as far
as he keeps them at all; that is to say, he never sends a parcel away to his
customer, but he enters it down, and never receives a bill from him, but he
sets it down when the money is paid; but now take this man and his chap,

together, as they are making up this account. The chapman, a sharp clever
tradesman, though a countryman, has his pocket-book with him, and in it a
copy of his posting-book, so the countrymen call a ledger, where the
London tradesman's accounts are copied out; and when the city tradesman
has drawn out his account, he takes it to his inn and examines it by his little
book, and what is the consequence?
If the city tradesman has omitted any of the bills which the country
tradesman has sent him up, he finds it out, and is sure to put him in mind of
it. 'Sir,' says he, 'you had a bill from me upon Mr A.G. at such a time, for
thirty pounds, and I have your letter that you received the money; but you
have omitted it in the account, so that I am not so much in your debt by
thirty pounds, as you thought I was.'
'Say you so!' says the city tradesman; 'I cannot think but you must be
mistaken.'
'No, no!' says the other, 'I am sure I can't be mistaken, for I have it in my
book; besides, I can go to Mr A.G., whom the bill was drawn upon, and
there is, to be sure, your own endorsement upon it, and a receipt for the
money.'
'Well,' says the citizen, 'I keep my books as exact as any body—I'll look
again, and if it be there I shall find it, for I am sure if I had it, it is in my
cash-book.'
'Pray do, then,' says the countryman, 'for I am sure I sent it you, and I am
sure I can produce the bill, if there be occasion.'
Away goes the tradesman to his books, which he pretends he keeps so
exact, and examining them over again, he finds the bill for thirty pounds
entered fairly, but in his running the whole year over together, as well he
might, he had overlooked it, whereas, if his cash-book had been duly posted
every week, as it ought to have been, this bill had been regularly placed to
account.
But now, observe the difference: the bill for thirty pounds being omitted,
was no damage to the country tradesman, because he has an account of it in
his book of memorandums, and had it regularly posted in his books at

home, whatever the other had, and also was able to bring sufficient proof of
the payment; so the London tradesman's omission was no hurt to him.
But the case differs materially in the debtor side of the account; for here the
tradesman, who with all his boasts of keeping his books exactly, has yet no
ledger, which being, as I have said, duly posted, should show every man's
account at one view; and being done every week, left it scarce possible to
omit any parcel that was once entered in the day-book or journal—I say, the
tradesman keeping no ledger, he looks over his day-book for the whole year
past, to draw up the debtor side of his customer's account, and there being a
great many parcels, truly he overlooks one or two of them, or suppose but
one of them, and gives the chapman the account, in which he sums up his
debtor side so much, suppose £136, 10s.: the chapman examining this by
his book, as he did the cash, finds two parcels, one £7, 15s., and the other
£9, 13s., omitted; so that by his own book his debtor side was £153, 18s.;
but being a cunning sharp tradesman, and withal not exceeding honest,
'Well, well,' says he to himself, 'if Mr G. says it is no more than £136, 10s.
what have I to do to contradict him? it is none of my business to keep his
books for him; it is time enough for me to reckon for it when he charges
me.' So he goes back to him the next day, and settles accounts with him,
pays him the balance in good bills which he brought up with him for that
purpose, takes a receipt in full of all accounts and demands to such a day of
the month, and the next day comes and looks out another parcel of goods,
and so begins an account for the next year, like a current chapman, and has
the credit of an extraordinary customer that pays well, and clears his
accounts every year; which he had not done had he not seen the advantage,
and so strained himself to pay, that he might get a receipt in full of all
accounts.
It happens some years after that this city tradesman dies, and his executors
finding his accounts difficult to make up, there being no books to be found
but a day-book and a cash-book, they get some skilful book-keeper to look
into them, who immediately sees that the only way to bring the accounts to
a head, is to form a ledger out of the other two, and post every body's
account into it from the beginning; for though it were a long way back,
there is no other remedy.