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The Complete English Tradesman (1839 ed.) by Daniel Defoe

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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.

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Theatre review: Three Women / Jermyn Street, London
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We do not know the women's names, but their voices are quite distinct. All are pregnant. But while the first woman awaits the birth of her baby with a moon-like serenity, the other two are not so lucky. One, whose previous pregnancies have failed to go to term, is experiencing a heartbreaking late miscarriage; the other is a young student whose accidental pregnancy will end in her child being put up for adoption.

Sylvia Plath's only play was never intended for the stage, being broadcast instead on BBC radio in August 1962. Less than six months later, Plath killed herself, but not before the burst of astonishing creative energy that produced her extraordinary, terrifying Ariel poems.

Anyone who knows Plath's poetry will see the connection between Three Women and Plath's subsequent poems, particularly in the way she talks about the agony of childbirth, the rush of love for this tiny alien being, and both the wonder and wounded rawness of motherhood. It is a beautiful piece, full of startling imagery that draws you in through the sheer intensity of its femaleness, and because it so precisely articulates the emotions that are often thought but seldom voiced by women - certainly not in the early 1960s - about men, motherhood and our relationship to our bodies.

It's been 20 years since there has been an attempt at a professional stage version and - in a theatre world that happily accepts the poetic offerings of Sarah Kane and Debbie Tucker Green, or the staged possibilities of The Waves, one of Plath's own inspirations for the piece, I see no reason why it shouldn't be brought to life. Sadly, it doesn't breathe here, in a production by Robert Shaw that is clearly a labour of love, but which never finds a way to give the internal a physical reality. Plath's poetry, like most babies, is more robust than it appears - and won't break if treated with a little less reverence and considerably more grit.

Instead, what we are offered is tinkling piano music, mournful mood lighting, an innocuous pale setting, as well as three perfectly good but indisputably ladylike performances that capture none of the wounded redness of Plath's poetry, and do her the disservice of making her sound bleached and somewhat prissy. It's a pity. What might have been a wonder ends up a mere curiosity.

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