TRADE.

Perhaps there is not by nature so much difference in the capacities of

men, as by education. The efforts of nature will produce a ten-fold crop

in the field, but those of art, fifty.

Perhaps too, the seeds of every virtue, vice, inclination, and habit,

are sown in the breast of every human being, though not in an equal

degree. Some of these lie dormant for ever, no hand inviting their

cultivation. Some are called into existence by their own internal

strength, and others by the external powers that surround them. Some of

these seeds flourish more, some less, according to the aptness of the

soil, and the modes of assistance. We are not to suppose infancy the

only time in which these scions spring, no part of life is exempt. I

knew a man who lived to the age of forty, totally regardless of music. A

fidler happening to have apartments near his abode, attracted his ear,

by frequent exhibitions, which produced a growing inclination for that

favourite science, and he became a proficient himself. Thus in advanced

periods a man may fall in love with a science, a woman, or a bottle.

Thus avarice is said to shoot up in ancient soil, and thus, I myself

bud forth in history at fifty-six.

The cameleon is said to receive a tincture from the colour of the object

that is nearest him; but the human mind in reality receives a bias from

its connections. Link a man to the pulpit, and he cannot proceed to any

great lengths in profligate life. Enter him into the army, and he will

endeavour to swear himself into consequence. Make the man of humanity an

overseer of the poor, and he will quickly find the tender feelings of

commiseration hardened. Make him a physician, and he will be the only

person upon the premises, the heir excepted, unconcerned at the prospect

of death. Make him a surgeon, and he will amputate a leg with the same

indifference with which a cutler saws a piece of bone for a knife

handle. You commit a rascal to prison because he merits transportation,

but by the time he comes out he merits a halter. By uniting also with

industry, we become industrious. It is easy to give instances of people

whose distinguishing characteristic was idleness, but when they breathed

the air of Birmingham, diligence became the predominant feature. The

view of profit, like the view of corn to the hungry horse, excites

to action.

Thus the various seeds scattered by nature into the soul at its first

formation, either lie neglected, are urged into increase by their own

powers, or are drawn towards maturity by the concurring circumstances

that attend them.

The late Mr. Grenville observed, in the House of Commons, "That commerce

tended to corrupt the morals of a people." If we examine the expression,

we shall find it true in a certain degree, beyond which, it tends to

improve them.

Perhaps every tradesman can furnish out numberless instances of small

deceit. His conduct is marked with a littleness, which though allowed by

general consent, is not strictly just. A person with whom I have long

been connected in business, asked, if I had dealt with his relation,

whom he had brought up, and who had lately entered into commercial life.

I answered in the affirmative. He replied, "He is a very honest fellow."

I told him I saw all the finesse of a tradesman about him. "Oh, rejoined

my friend, a man has a right to say all he can in favour of his own

goods." Nor is the seller alone culpable. The buyer takes an equal share

in the deception. Though neither of them speak their sentiments, they

well understand each other. Whilst the treaty is agitating, the profit

of the tradesman vanishes, yet the buyer pronounces against the article;

but when finished, the seller whispers his friend, "It is well sold,"

and the buyer smiles if a bargain.

Thus is the commercial track a line of minute deceits.

But, on the other hand, it does not seem possible for a man in trade to

pass this line, without wrecking his reputation; which, if once broken,

can never be made whole. The character of a tradesman is valuable, it is

his all; therefore, whatever seeds of the vicious kind shoot forth in

the mind, are carefully watched and nipped in the bud, that they may

never blossom into action.

Thus having slated the accounts between morality and trade, I shall

leave the reader to draw the ballance. I shall not pronounce after so

great a master, and upon so delicate a subject, but shall only ask,

"Whether the people in trade are more corrupt than those out?"

If the curious reader will lend an attentive ear to a pair of farmers in

the market, bartering for a cow, he will find as much dissimulation as

at St. James's, or at any other saint's, but couched in homelier phrase.

The man of well-bred deceit is '_infinitely_ your friend--It would give

him _immense_ pleasure to serve you!' while the man in the frock 'Will

be ---- if he tells you a word of a lye!' Deception is an innate

principle of the human heart, not peculiar to one man, or one

profession.

Having occasion for a horse, in 1759, I mentioned it to an acquaintance,

and informed him of the uses: he assured me, he had one that would

exactly suit; which he showed in the stable, and held the candle pretty

high, _for fear of affecting the straw_. I told him it was needless to

examine him, for I should rely upon his word, being conscious he was too

much my friend to deceive me; therefore bargained, and caused him to be

sent home. But by the light of the sun, which next morning illumined the

heavens, I perceived the horse was _greased_ on all fours. I therefore,

in gentle terms, upbraided my friend with duplicity, when he replied

with some warmth, "I would cheat my own brother in a horse." Had this

honourable friend stood a chance of selling me a horse once a week, his

own interest would have prevented him from deceiving me.

A man enters into business with a view of acquiring a fortune--A

laudable motive! That property which rises from honest industry, is an

honour to its owner; the repose of his age; the reward of a life of

attention: but, great as the advantage seems, yet, being of a private

nature, it is one of the least in the mercantile walk. For the

intercourse occasioned by traffic, gives a man a view of the world, and

of himself; removes the narrow limits that confine his judgment; expands

the mind; opens his understanding; removes his prejudices; and polishes

his manners. Civility and humanity are ever the companions of trade;

the man of business is the man of liberal sentiment; a barbarous and

commercial people, is a contradiction; if he is not the philosopher of

nature, he is the friend of his country, and well understands her

interest. Even the men of inferior life among us, whose occupations, one

would think, tend to produce minds as callous as the mettle they work;

lay a stronger claim to civilization, than in any other place with which

I am acquainted. I am sorry to mutilate the compliment, when I mention

the lower race of the other sex: no lady ought to be publicly insulted,

let her appear in what dress she pleases. Both sexes, however, agree in

exhibiting a mistaken pity, in cases of punishment, particularly by

preventing that for misconduct in the military profession.

It is singular, that a predilection for Birmingham, is entertained by

every denomination of visitants, from Edward Duke of York, who saw us in

1765, down to the presuming quack, who, griped with necessity, boldly

discharges his filth from the stage. A paviour, of the name of Obrien,

assured me in 1750, that he only meant to sleep one night in Birmingham,

in his way from London to Dublin. But instead of pursuing his journey

next morning, as intended, he had continued in the place thirty-five

years: and though fortune had never elevated him above the pebbles of

the street, yet he had never repented his stay.

It has already been remarked that I first saw Birmingham in 1741,

accidentally cast into those regions of civility; equally unknown to

every inhabitant, nor having the least idea of becoming one myself.

Though the reflections of an untaught youth of seventeen cannot be

striking, yet, as they were purely natural, permit me to describe them.

I had been before acquainted with two or three principal towns. The

environs of all I had seen were composed of wretched dwellings, replete

with dirt and poverty; but the buildings in the exterior of Birmingham

rose in a style of elegance. Thatch, so plentiful in other towns, was

not to be met with in this. I was surprised at the place, but more so at

the people: They were a species I had never seen: They possessed a

vivacity I had never beheld: I had been among dreamers, but now I saw

men awake: Their very step along the street showed alacrity: Every man

seemed to know and prosecute his own affairs: The town was large, and

full of inhabitants, and those inhabitants full of industry. I had seen

faces elsewhere tinctured with an idle gloom void of meaning, but here,

with a pleasing alertness: Their appearance was strongly marked with the

modes of civil life: I mixed a variety of company, chiefly of the lower

ranks, and rather as a silent spectator: I was treated with an easy

freedom by all, and with marks of favour by some: Hospitality seemed to

claim this happy people for her own, though I knew not at that time from

what cause.

I did not meet with this treatment in 1770, twenty nine years after, at

Bosworth, where I accompanied a gentleman, with no other intent, than to

view the field celebrated for the fall of Richard the third. The

inhabitants enjoyed the cruel satisfaction of setting their dogs at us

in the street, merely because we were strangers. Human figures, not

their own, are seldom seen in those inhospitable regions: Surrounded

with impassable roads, no intercourse with man to humanise the mind, no

commerce to smooth their rugged manners, they continue the boors

of nature.

Thus it appears, that characters are influenced by profession. That the

great advantage of private fortune, and the greater to society, of

softening and forming the mind, are the result of trade. But these are

not the only benefits that flow from this desirable spring. It opens the

hand of charity to the assistance of distress; witness the Hospital and

the two Charity Schools, supported by annual donation: It adds to the

national security, by supplying the taxes for internal use, and, for

the prosecution of war. It adds to that security, by furnishing the

inhabitants with riches, which they are ever anxious to preserve, even

at the risk of their lives; for the preservation of private wealth,

tends to the preservation of the state.

It augments the value of landed property, by multiplying the number of

purchasers: It produces money to improve that land into a higher state

of cultivation, which ultimately redounds to the general benefit, by

affording plenty.

It unites bodies of men in social compact, for their mutual interest: It

adds to the credit and pleasure of individuals, by enabling them to

purchase entertainment and improvement, both of the corporeal and

intellectual kind.

It finds employment for the hand that would otherwise be found in

mischief: And it elevates the character of a nation in the scale of

government.

Birmingham, by her commercial consequence, has, of late, justly assumed

the liberty of nominating one of the representatives for the county;

and, to her honor, the elective body never regretted her choice.

In that memorable contest of 1774, we were almost to a man of one mind:

if an _odd dozen_ among us, of a different _mould_, did not assimulate

with the rest, they were treated, as men of free judgment should ever be

treated, _with civility_, and the line of harmony was not broken.

If this little treatise happens to travel into some of our corporate

places, where the fire of contention, blown by the breath of party, is

kept alive during seven years, let them cast a second glance over the

above remark.

Some of the first words after the creation, _increase and multiply_, are

applicable to Birmingham; but as her own people are insufficient for the

manufactures, she demands assistance for two or three miles round her.

In our early morning walks, on every road proceeding from the town, we

meet the sons of diligence returning to business, and bringing _in_ the

same dusky smuts, which the evening before they took out. And though

they appear of a darkish complexion, we may consider it is the property

of every metal to sully the user; money itself has the same effect, and

yet he deems it no disgrace who is daubed by fingering it; the disgrace

lies with him who has none to finger.

The profits arising from labour, to the lower orders of men, seem to

surpass those of other mercantile places. This is not only visible in

the manufactures peculiar to Birmingham, but in the more common

occupations of the barber, taylor, shoe-maker, etc. who bask in the rays

of plenty.

It is entertaining to the curious observer, to contemplate the variation

of things. We know of nothing, either in the natural or moral world,

that continues in the same state: From a number of instances that might

be adduced, permit me to name one--that of money. This, considered in

the abstract, is of little or no value; but, by the common consent of

mankind, is erected into a general arbitrator, to fix a value upon all

others: a medium through which every thing passes: a balance by which

they must be weighed: a touchstone to which they must be applied to find

their worth: though we can neither eat nor drink it, we can neither eat

nor drink without it.--He that has none best knows its use.

It has long been a complaint, that the same quantity of that medium,

money, will not produce so much of the necessaries of life, particularly

food, as heretofore; or, in other words, that provisions have been

gradually rising for many ages, and that the milling, which formerly

supported the laborious family a whole week, will not now support it

one day.

In times of remarkable scarcity, such as those in 1728, 41, 56, 66, and

74, the press abounded with publications on the subject; but none, which

I have seen, reached the question, though short.

It is of no consequence, whether a bushel of corn sells for six _pence_,

or six _shillings_, but, what _time_ a man must labour before he

can earn one?

If, by the moderate labour of thirty-six hours, in the reign of Henry

the Third, he could acquire a groat, which would purchase a bushel of

wheat; and if, in the reign of George the Third, he works the same

number of hours for eight shillings, which will make the same purchase,

the balance is exactly even. If, by our commercial concerns with the

eastern and the western worlds, the kingdom abounds with bullion, money

must be cheaper; therefore a larger quantity is required to perform the

same use. If money would go as far now as in the days of Henry the

Third, a journeyman in Birmingham might amass a ministerial fortune.

Whether provisions abound more or less? And whether the poor fare better

or worse, in this period than in the other? are also questions dependant

upon trade, and therefore worth investigating.

If the necessaries of life abound more in this reign, than in that of

Henry the Third, we cannot pronounce them dearer.

Perhaps it will not be absurd to suppose, that the same quantity of

land, directed by the superior hand of cultivation, in the eighteenth

century, will yield twice the produce, as by the ignorant management of

the thirteenth. We may suppose also, by the vast number of new

inclosures which have annually taken place since the revolution, that

twice the quantity of land is brought into cultivation: It follows, that

four times the quantity of provisions is raised from the earth, than was

raised under Henry the Third; which will leave a large surplus in hand,

after we have deducted for additional luxury, a greater number of

consumers, and also for exportation.

This extraordinary stock is also a security against famine, which our

forefathers severely felt.

It will be granted, that in both periods the worst of the meat was used

by the poor. By the improvements in agriculture, the art of feeding

cattle is well understood, and much in practice; as the land improves,

so will the beast that feeds upon it: if the productions, therefore, of

the slaughter house, in this age, surpass those of Henry the Third, then

the fare of the poor is at least as much superior now, as the worst of

fat meat is superior to the worst of lean.

The poor inhabitants in that day, found it difficult to procure bread;

but in this, they sometimes add cream and butter.

Thus it appears, that through the variation of things a balance is

preserved: That provisions have not advanced in price, but are more

plentiful: And that the lower class of men have found in trade, that

intricate, but beneficial clue, which guides them into the confines

of luxury.

Provisions and the manufactures, like a pair of scales, will not

preponderate together; but as weight is applied to the one, the other

will advance.

As labour is irksome to the body, a man will perform no more of it than

necessity obliges him; it follows, that in those times when plenty

preponderates, the manufactures tend to decay: For if a man can support

his family with three days labour, he will not work six.

As the generality of men will perform no more work than produces a

maintenance, reduce that maintenance to half the price, and they will

perform but half the work: Hence half the commerce of a nation is

destroyed at one blow, and what is lost by one kingdom will be recovered

by another, in rivalship.

A commercial people, therefore, will endeavour to keep provisions at a

superior rate, yet within reach of the poor.

It follows also, that luxury is no way detrimental to trade; for we

frequently observe ability and industry exerted to support it.

The practice of the Birmingham manufacturer, for, perhaps, a hundred

generations, was to keep within the warmth of his own forge.

The foreign customer, therefore, applied to him for the execution of

orders, and regularly made his appearance twice a year; and though this

mode of business is not totally extinguished, yet a very different one

is adopted.

The merchant stands at the head of the manufacturer, purchases his

produce, and travels the whole island to promote the sale: A practice

that would have astonished our fore fathers. The commercial spirit of

the age, hath also penetrated beyond the confines of Britain, and

explored the whole continent of Europe; nor does it stop there, for the

West-Indies, and the American world, are intimately acquainted with the

Birmingham merchant; and nothing but the exclusive command of the

East-India Company, over the Asiatic trade, prevents our riders from

treading upon the heels of each other, in the streets of Calcutta.

To this modern conduct of Birmingham, in sending her sons to the foreign

market, I ascribe the chief cause of her rapid increase.

By the poor's books it appears, there are not three thousand houses in

Birmingham, that pay the parochial rates; whilst there are more then

five thousand that do not, chiefly through inability. Hence we see what

an amazing number of the laborious class of mankind is among us. This

valuable part of the creation, is the prop of the remainder. They are

the rise and support of our commerce. From this fountain we draw our

luxuries and our pleasures. They spread our tables, and oil the wheels

of our carriages. They are also the riches and the defence of

the country.

How necessary then, is it to direct with prudence, the rough passions of

this important race, and make them subservient to the great end of civil

society. The deficiency of conduct in this useful part of our species

ought to be supplied by the superior.

Let not the religious reader be surprised if I say, their follies, and

even their vices, under certain restrictions, are beneficial. Corruption

in the community, as well as in the natural body, accelerates vital

existence.

Let us survey one of the men, who begin life at the lowest ebb; without

property, or any other advantage but that of his own prudence.

He comes, by length of time and very minute degrees, from being directed

himself, to have the direction of others. He quits the precincts of

servitude, and enters the dominions of command: He laboured for others,

but now others labour for him. Should the whole race, therefore, possess

the same prudence, they would all become masters. Where then could be

found the servant? Who is to perform the manual part? Who to execute the

orders of the merchant? A world consisting only of masters, is like a

monster consisting only of a head. We know that the head is no more than

the leading power, the members are equally necessary. And, as one member

is placed in a more elevated state than another, so are the ranks of

men, that no void may be left. The hands and the feet, were designed to

execute the drudgery of life; the head for direction, and all are

suitable in their sphere.

If we turn the other side of the picture, we shall see a man born in

affluence, take the reins of direction; but like Phæton, not being able

to guide them, blunders on from mischief to mischief, till he involves

himself in destruction, comes prone to the earth, and many are injured

by his fall. From directing the bridle, he submits to the bit; seeks for

bread in the shops, the line designed him by nature; where his hands

become callous with the file, and where, for the first time in his life,

he becomes useful to an injured society.

Thus, from imprudence, folly, and vice, is produced poverty;--poverty

produces labour; from labour, arise the manufactures; and from these,

the riches of a country, with all their train of benefits.

It would be difficult to enumerate the great variety of trades practised

in Birmingham, neither would it give pleasure to the reader. Some of

them, spring up with the expedition of a blade of grass, and, like that,

wither in a summer. If some are lasting, like the sun, others seem to

change with the moon. Invention is ever at work. Idleness; the

manufactory of scandal, with the numerous occupations connected with the

cotton; the linen, the silk, and the woollen trades, are little

known among us.

Birmingham begun with the productions of the anvil, and probably will

end with them. The sons of the hammer, were once her chief inhabitants;

but that great croud of artists is now lost in a greater: Genius seems

to increase with multitude.

Part of the riches, extension, and improvement of Birmingham, are owing

to the late John Taylor, Esq; who possessed the singular powers of

perceiving things as they really were. The spring, and consequence of

action, were open to his view; whom we may justly deem the Shakespear

or the Newton of his day. He rose from minute beginnings, to

shine in the commercial hemisphere, as they in the poetical and

philosophical--Imitation is part of the human character. An example of

such eminence in himself, promoted exertion in others; which, when

prudence guided the helm, led on to fortune: But the bold adventurer who

crouded sail, without ballast and without rudder, has been known to

overset the vessel, and sink insolvent.

To this uncommon genius we owe the gilt-button, the japanned and gilt

snuff-boxes, with the numerous race of enamels--From the same fountain

also issued the paper snuff-box, at which one servant earned three

pounds ten shillings per week, by painting them at a farthing each.

In his shop were weekly manufactured buttons to the amount of 800_l_

exclusive of other valuable productions.

One of the present nobility, of distinguished taste, examining the

works, with the master, purchased some of the articles, amongst others,

a toy of eighty guineas value, and, while paying for them, observed with

a smile, "he plainly saw he could not reside in Birmingham for less than

two hundred pounds a day."

The toy trades first made their appearance in Birmingham, in the

beginning of Charles the second, in an amazing variety, attended with

all their beauties and their graces. The first in pre-eminence is

The BUTTON.

This beautiful ornament appears with infinite variation; and though the

original date is rather uncertain, yet we well remember the long coats

of our grandfathers covered with half a gross of high-tops, and the

cloaks of our grandmothers, ornamented with a horn button nearly the

size of a crown piece, a watch, or a John apple, curiously wrought, as

having passed through the Birmingham press.

Though the common round button keeps on with the steady pace of the day,

yet we sometimes see the oval, the square, the pea, and the pyramid,

flash into existence. In some branches of traffic the wearer calls

loudly for new fashions; but in this, the fashions tread upon each

other, and crowd upon the wearer. The consumption of this article is

astonishing. There seem to be hidden treasures couched within this magic

circle, known only to a few, who extract prodigious fortunes out of

this useful toy, whilst a far greater number, submit to a statute of

bankruptcy.

Trade, like a restive horse, can rarely be managed; for, where one is

carried to the end of a successful journey, many are thrown off by the

way. The next that calls our attention is

The BUCKLE.

Perhaps the shoe, in one form or other, is nearly as ancient as the

foot. It originally appeared under the name of, sandal; this was no

other than a sole without an upper-leather. That fashion hath since been

inverted, and we now, sometimes, see an upper-leather nearly without a

sole. But, whatever was the cut of the shoe, it always demanded a

fastening. Under the house of Plantagenet, it shot horizontally from the

foot, like a Dutch scait, to an enormous length, so that the extremity

was fattened to the knee, sometimes, with a silver chain, a silk lace,

or even a pack-thread string, rather than avoid _genteel taste_.

This thriving beak, drew the attention of the legislature, who were

determined to prune the exorbitant shoot. For in 1465 we find an order

of council, prohibiting the growth of the shoe toe, to more than two

inches, under the penalty of a dreadful curse from the priest, and,

which was worse, the payment of twenty shillings to the king.

This fashion, like every other, gave way to time, and in its stead, the

rose began to bud upon the foot. Which under the house of Tudor, opened

in great perfection. No shoe was fashionable, without being fattened

with a full-blown rose. Under the house of Stuart, the rose withered,

which gave rise to the shoe-string.

The beaus of that age, ornamented their lower tier with double laces of

silk, tagged with silver, and the extremities beautified with a small

fringe of the same metal. The inferior class, wore laces of plain silk,

linen, or even a thong of leather; which last is yet to be met with in

the humble plains of rural life. But I am inclined to think, the artists

of Birmingham had no great hand in fitting out the beau of the

last century.

The revolution was remarkable, for the introduction of William, of

liberty, and the minute buckle; not differing much in size and shape

from the horse bean.

This offspring of fancy, like the clouds, is ever changing. The fashion

of to-day, is thrown into the casting pot to-morrow.

The buckle seems to have undergone every figure, size and shape of

geometrical invention: It has passed through every form in the whole

zodiac of Euclid. The large square buckle is the _ton_ of the present

day. The ladies also, have adopted the reigning taste: It is difficult

to discover their beautiful little feet, covered with an enormous shield

of buckle; and we wonder to see the active motion under the massive

load. Thus the British fair support the manufactures of Birmingham, and

thus they kill by weight of metal.