Ladies who, in order to correct the inequalities of fortune, or to
counteract a spendthrift husband, have betaken themselves to the
keeping of shops, form a large and rapidly-increasing body. In times
so ancient as to be scarcely within the memory of a juvenile dowager,
it was held by the high dry exponents of aristocratic privilege that
to touch trade, even when it proffered a bag of money in a well-gloved
hand, was to be defiled beyond the restoring power of a Belgravian
Duchess. To be sure, even the highest and the driest of these censors
contrived to close an indulgent eye when a moneyless scion of nobility
sought to prop his tottering house by rebuilding it upon a commercial
foundation, and cementing it with the dower of a "tradesman's"
daughter. But if these blameless ones, whose exclusive dust has long
since been consigned to family vaults with appropriate inscriptions,
could have foreseen the dreadful inroads of the trading spirit, if
in a moment of prophetic rapture they could have watched the painful
decay of caste which permits a lady to dabble in bonnets, to toy with
the making of fancy frames, to cut dresses almost like a dressmaker,
and, horror of horrors, to send in bills to her customers, surely
they would have refrained from the tomb in order to stem the tide of
advancing demoralisation. But they are dead, and we who remain are
left to deal as best we may with the uncompromising spirit of the age.
[Illustration]
It is absolutely essential to the proper production of a Lady
Shopkeeper that she should have been at one time both affluent and
socially distinguished. If to these qualities she can add the supreme
advantage of good looks and a modest demeanour, her career is certain
to be a prosperous and a rapid one. If, finally, she has been mated
to a husband who, having long ago spent his own cash, contrives in
a short time to run a best on record through hers, if he is a good
fellow of a sort, with a capacity for making friends which is as large
as his generosity in staking money, she may be sure that no element
will be wanting to her success. It is of course unnecessary that she
should have served any apprenticeship to the trade that she ultimately
adopts. When, after some glittering seasons of horses and footmen
and brilliant parties, the crash comes upon the little household, her
friends will be called into council. Some will recommend a retired
life in a distant suburb, where it is currently reported that £250 a
year may be made to play the part of £2,000 in the heart of May Fair.
Others will hint that governesses have been known, after years of
painful labour, to lay by a sufficiency for a short old age; others,
again, will dive into the storehouse of their reminiscences, in order
to produce for inspection the well-known example of a colonel and
his wife, who defied both the fates and the rheumatism in the modest
_pension_ of a Continental watering-place. All these suggestions,
however, are eventually put aside in favour of the advice that a
shop should be started, a _nom de commerce_ adopted, and a circle of
friendly customers be acquired by discreet advertisement. After these
matters have been decided, but not till then, it becomes necessary
to determine to what special branch the talents of the prospective
Shopkeeper are to be devoted. At last even this is accomplished,
and in a few months more the world of fashion may learn by private
circular or public paragraph, that a new competitor for its favours
has been launched into commercial activity under a sweetly symbolical
name.
After this everything depends upon the Lady herself. At first
everything will go swimmingly. Friends will rally round her, and she
may perhaps discover with a touching surprise that the staunchest and
truest are those of whom, in her days of brilliant prosperity, she
thought the least. But a _succès d'estime_ is soon exhausted. Unless
she conducts her business on purely business lines, delivers her
goods when they are wanted, and, for her own protection, sends in her
accounts as they fall due, and looks carefully after their payment,
her customers and her profits will fall away. But if she attends
strictly to business herself, or engages a good business woman to
assist her, and orders her affairs in accordance with the dictates of
a proper self-interest, she is almost certain to do well, and to reap
the reward of those who face the world without flinching, and fight
the battle of life sturdily and with an honest purpose. Some painful
moments may fall to her lot. It may be that in a crowded assemblage
of wealth and fashion she may see one of her masterpieces in the
dress-making art, torn into shreds under the clumsy heel of a Cabinet
Minister, or a Duchess may speak unkindly in her hearing of her latest
devices in floral decoration. Or, some brainless nincompoop may,
in his ignorance of her profession, cast aspersions on the general
character and behaviour of all who keep shops. And it may be that
friends, after a prolonged period of non-payment, will desert her, and
speak ill of her business. But she will be able to console herself for
those and similar bitternesses by the knowledge that on the whole the
world honours those who battle against ill-fortune without complaint
far above the needy crowd of spongers who strive to batten without
effort on the crumbs that fall from the tables of the rich.
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