p. 263Chapter IX — Men of Business

“Seest thou a man diligent in his business?
he shall stand before kings.”—Proverbs of
Solomon.

“That man is but of the lower part of the world that is
not brought up to business and affairs.”—Owen
Feltham.

Hazlitt, in one of his clever
essays, represents the man of business as a mean sort of person
put in a go-cart, yoked to a trade or profession; alleging that
all he has to do is, not to go out of the beaten track, but
merely to let his affairs take their own course. “The
great requisite,” he says, “for the prosperous
management of ordinary business is the want of imagination, or of
any ideas but those of custom and interest on the narrowest
scale.” [263] But nothing could be more
one-sided, and in effect untrue, than such a definition. Of
course, there are narrow-minded men of business, as there are
narrow-minded scientific men, literary men, and legislators; but
there are also business men of large and comprehensive minds,
capable of action on the very largest scale. As Burke said
in his speech on the India Bill, he knew statesmen who were
pedlers, and merchants who acted in the spirit of statesmen.

If we take into account the qualities necessary for the
successful conduct of any important undertaking,—that it
requires special aptitude, promptitude of action on emergencies,
capacity for organizing the labours often of large numbers of
men, great tact and knowledge of human nature, constant
self-culture, and growing experience in the practical affairs of
life,—it must, we think, be obvious that the school of
business is by no means so narrow as some writers would have us
believe. Mr. Helps had gone much nearer the truth when he
said that consummate men of business are as rare almost as great
poets,—rarer, perhaps, than veritable saints and
martyrs. Indeed, of no other pursuit can it so emphatically
be said, as of this, that “Business makes men.”

It has, however, been a favourite fallacy with dunces in all
times, that men of genius are unfitted for business, as well as
that business occupations unfit men for the pursuits of
genius. The unhappy youth who committed suicide a few years
since because he had been “born to be a man and condemned
to be a grocer,” proved by the act that his soul was not
equal even to the dignity of grocery. For it is not the
calling that degrades the man, but the man that degrades the
calling. All work that brings honest gain is honourable,
whether it be of hand or mind. The fingers may be soiled,
yet the heart remain pure; for it is not material so much as
moral dirt that defiles—greed far more than grime, and vice
than verdigris.

The greatest have not disdained to labour honestly and
usefully for a living, though at the same time aiming after
higher things. Thales, the first of the seven sages, Solon,
the second founder of Athens, and Hyperates, the mathematician,
were all traders. Plato, called the Divine by reason of the
excellence of his wisdom, defrayed his travelling expenses in
Egypt by the profits derived from the oil which he sold during
his journey. Spinoza maintained himself by polishing
glasses while he pursued his philosophical investigations.
Linnæus, the great botanist, prosecuted his studies while
hammering leather and making shoes. Shakespeare was a
successful manager of a theatre—perhaps priding himself
more upon his practical qualities in that capacity than on his
writing of plays and poetry. Pope was of opinion that
Shakespeare’s principal object in cultivating literature
was to secure an honest independence. Indeed he seems to
have been altogether indifferent to literary reputation. It
is not known that he superintended the publication of a single
play, or even sanctioned the printing of one; and the chronology
of his writings is still a mystery. It is certain, however,
that he prospered in his business, and realized sufficient to
enable him to retire upon a competency to his native town of
Stratford-upon-Avon.

Chaucer was in early life a soldier, and afterwards an
effective Commissioner of Customs, and Inspector of Woods and
Crown Lands. Spencer was Secretary to the Lord Deputy of
Ireland, was afterwards Sheriff of Cork, and is said to have been
shrewd and attentive in matters of business. Milton,
originally a schoolmaster, was elevated to the post of Secretary
to the Council of State during the Commonwealth; and the extant
Order-book of the Council, as well as many of Milton’s
letters which are preserved, give abundant evidence of his
activity and usefulness in that office. Sir Isaac Newton
proved himself an efficient Master of the Mint; the new coinage
of 1694 having been carried on under his immediate personal
superintendence. Cowper prided himself upon his business
punctuality, though he confessed that he “never knew a
poet, except himself, who was punctual in anything.”
But against this we may set the lives of Wordsworth and
Scott—the former a distributor of stamps, the latter a
clerk to the Court of Session,—both of whom, though great
poets, were eminently punctual and practical men of
business. David Ricardo, amidst the occupations of his
daily business as a London stock-jobber, in conducting which he
acquired an ample fortune, was able to concentrate his mind upon
his favourite subject—on which he was enabled to throw
great light—the principles of political economy; for he
united in himself the sagacious commercial man and the profound
philosopher. Baily, the eminent astronomer, was another
stockbroker; and Allen, the chemist, was a silk manufacturer.

We have abundant illustrations, in our own day, of the fact
that the highest intellectual power is not incompatible with the
active and efficient performance of routine duties. Grote,
the great historian of Greece, was a London banker. And it
is not long since John Stuart Mill, one of our greatest living
thinkers, retired from the Examiner’s department of the
East India Company, carrying with him the admiration and esteem
of his fellow officers, not on account of his high views of
philosophy, but because of the high standard of efficiency which
he had established in his office, and the thoroughly satisfactory
manner in which he had conducted the business of his
department.

The path of success in business is usually the path of common
sense. Patient labour and application are as necessary here
as in the acquisition of knowledge or the pursuit of
science. The old Greeks said, “to become an able man
in any profession, three things are necessary—nature,
study, and practice.” In business, practice, wisely
and diligently improved, is the great secret of success.
Some may make what are called “lucky hits,” but like
money earned by gambling, such “hits” may only serve
to lure one to ruin. Bacon was accustomed to say that it
was in business as in ways—the nearest way was commonly the
foulest, and that if a man would go the fairest way he must go
somewhat about. The journey may occupy a longer time, but
the pleasure of the labour involved by it, and the enjoyment of
the results produced, will be more genuine and unalloyed.
To have a daily appointed task of even common drudgery to do
makes the rest of life feel all the sweeter.

The fable of the labours of Hercules is the type of all human
doing and success. Every youth should be made to feel that
his happiness and well-doing in life must necessarily rely mainly
on himself and the exercise of his own energies, rather than upon
the help and patronage of others. The late Lord Melbourne
embodied a piece of useful advice in a letter which he wrote to
Lord John Russell, in reply to an application for a provision for
one of Moore the poet’s sons: “My dear John,”
he said, “I return you Moore’s letter. I shall
be ready to do what you like about it when we have the
means. I think whatever is done should be done for Moore
himself. This is more distinct, direct, and
intelligible. Making a small provision for young men is
hardly justifiable; and it is of all things the most prejudicial
to themselves. They think what they have much larger than
it really is; and they make no exertion. The young should
never hear any language but this: ‘You have your own way to
make, and it depends upon your own exertions whether you starve
or not.’ Believe me, &c., Melbourne.”

Practical industry, wisely and vigorously applied, always
produces its due effects. It carries a man onward, brings
out his individual character, and stimulates the action of
others. All may not rise equally, yet each, on the whole,
very much according to his deserts. “Though all
cannot live on the piazza,” as the Tuscan proverb has it,
“every one may feel the sun.”

On the whole, it is not good that human nature should have the
road of life made too easy. Better to be under the
necessity of working hard and faring meanly, than to have
everything done ready to our hand and a pillow of down to repose
upon. Indeed, to start in life with comparatively small
means seems so necessary as a stimulus to work, that it may
almost be set down as one of the conditions essential to success
in life. Hence, an eminent judge, when asked what
contributed most to success at the bar, replied, “Some
succeed by great talent, some by high connexions, some by
miracle, but the majority by commencing without a
shilling.”

We have heard of an architect of considerable
accomplishments,—a man who had improved himself by long
study, and travel in the classical lands of the East,—who
came home to commence the practice of his profession. He
determined to begin anywhere, provided he could be employed; and
he accordingly undertook a business connected with
dilapidations,—one of the lowest and least remunerative
departments of the architect’s calling. But he had
the good sense not to be above his trade, and he had the
resolution to work his way upward, so that he only got a fair
start. One hot day in July a friend found him sitting
astride of a house roof occupied with his dilapidation
business. Drawing his hand across his perspiring
countenance, he exclaimed, “Here’s a pretty business
for a man who has been all over Greece!” However, he
did his work, such as it was, thoroughly and well; he persevered
until he advanced by degrees to more remunerative branches of
employment, and eventually he rose to the highest walks of his
profession.

The necessity of labour may, indeed, be regarded as the main
root and spring of all that we call progress in individuals, and
civilization in nations; and it is doubtful whether any heavier
curse could be imposed on man than the complete gratification of
all his wishes without effort on his part, leaving nothing for
his hopes, desires or struggles. The feeling that life is
destitute of any motive or necessity for action, must be of all
others the most distressing and insupportable to a rational
being. The Marquis de Spinola asking Sir Horace Vere what
his brother died of, Sir Horace replied, “He died, Sir, of
having nothing to do.” “Alas!” said
Spinola, “that is enough to kill any general of us
all.”

Those who fail in life are however very apt to assume a tone
of injured innocence, and conclude too hastily that everybody
excepting themselves has had a hand in their personal
misfortunes. An eminent writer lately published a book, in
which he described his numerous failures in business, naively
admitting, at the same time, that he was ignorant of the
multiplication table; and he came to the conclusion that the real
cause of his ill-success in life was the money-worshipping spirit
of the age. Lamartine also did not hesitate to profess his
contempt for arithmetic; but, had it been less, probably we
should not have witnessed the unseemly spectacle of the admirers
of that distinguished personage engaged in collecting
subscriptions for his support in his old age.

Again, some consider themselves born to ill luck, and make up
their minds that the world invariably goes against them without
any fault on their own part. We have heard of a person of
this sort, who went so far as to declare his belief that if he
had been a hatter people would have been born without
heads! There is however a Russian proverb which says that
Misfortune is next door to Stupidity; and it will often be found
that men who are constantly lamenting their luck, are in some way
or other reaping the consequences of their own neglect,
mismanagement, improvidence, or want of application. Dr.
Johnson, who came up to London with a single guinea in his
pocket, and who once accurately described himself in his
signature to a letter addressed to a noble lord, as
Impransus, or Dinnerless, has honestly said, “All
the complaints which are made of the world are unjust; I never
knew a man of merit neglected; it was generally by his own fault
that he failed of success.”

Washington Irying, the American author, held like views.
“As for the talk,” said he, “about modest merit
being neglected, it is too often a cant, by which indolent and
irresolute men seek to lay their want of success at the door of
the public. Modest merit is, however, too apt to be
inactive, or negligent, or uninstructed merit. Well matured
and well disciplined talent is always sure of a market, provided
it exerts itself; but it must not cower at home and expect to be
sought for. There is a good deal of cant too about the
success of forward and impudent men, while men of retiring worth
are passed over with neglect. But it usually happens that
those forward men have that valuable quality of promptness and
activity without which worth is a mere inoperative
property. A barking dog is often more useful than a
sleeping lion.”

Attention, application, accuracy, method, punctuality, and
despatch, are the principal qualities required for the efficient
conduct of business of any sort. These, at first sight, may
appear to be small matters; and yet they are of essential
importance to human happiness, well-being, and usefulness.
They are little things, it is true; but human life is made up of
comparative trifles. It is the repetition of little acts
which constitute not only the sum of human character, but which
determine the character of nations. And where men or
nations have broken down, it will almost invariably be found that
neglect of little things was the rock on which they split.
Every human being has duties to be performed, and, therefore, has
need of cultivating the capacity for doing them; whether the
sphere of action be the management of a household, the conduct of
a trade or profession, or the government of a nation.

The examples we have already given of great workers in various
branches of industry, art, and science, render it unnecessary
further to enforce the importance of persevering application in
any department of life. It is the result of every-day
experience that steady attention to matters of detail lies at the
root of human progress; and that diligence, above all, is the
mother of good luck. Accuracy is also of much importance,
and an invariable mark of good training in a man. Accuracy
in observation, accuracy in speech, accuracy in the transaction
of affairs. What is done in business must be well done; for
it is better to accomplish perfectly a small amount of work, than
to half-do ten times as much. A wise man used to say,
“Stay a little, that we may make an end the
sooner.”

Too little attention, however, is paid to this highly
important quality of accuracy. As a man eminent in
practical science lately observed to us, “It is astonishing
how few people I have met with in the course of my experience,
who can define a fact accurately.” Yet in
business affairs, it is the manner in which even small matters
are transacted, that often decides men for or against you.
With virtue, capacity, and good conduct in other respects, the
person who is habitually inaccurate cannot be trusted; his work
has to be gone over again; and he thus causes an infinity of
annoyance, vexation, and trouble.

It was one of the characteristic qualities of Charles James
Fox, that he was thoroughly pains-taking in all that he
did. When appointed Secretary of State, being piqued at
some observation as to his bad writing, he actually took a
writing-master, and wrote copies like a schoolboy until he had
sufficiently improved himself. Though a corpulent man, he
was wonderfully active at picking up cut tennis balls, and when
asked how he contrived to do so, he playfully replied,
“Because I am a very pains-taking man.” The
same accuracy in trifling matters was displayed by him in things
of greater importance; and he acquired his reputation, like the
painter, by “neglecting nothing.”

Method is essential, and enables a larger amount of work to be
got through with satisfaction. “Method,” said
the Reverend Richard Cecil, “is like packing things in a
box; a good packer will get in half as much again as a bad
one.” Cecil’s despatch of business was
extraordinary, his maxim being, “The shortest way to do
many things is to do only one thing at once;” and he never
left a thing undone with a view of recurring to it at a period of
more leisure. When business pressed, he rather chose to
encroach on his hours of meals and rest than omit any part of his
work. De Witt’s maxim was like Cecil’s:
“One thing at a time.” “If,” said
he, “I have any necessary despatches to make, I think of
nothing else till they are finished; if any domestic affairs
require my attention, I give myself wholly up to them till they
are set in order.”

A French minister, who was alike remarkable for his despatch
of business and his constant attendance at places of amusement,
being asked how he contrived to combine both objects, replied,
“Simply by never postponing till to-morrow what should be
done to-day.” Lord Brougham has said that a certain
English statesman reversed the process, and that his maxim was,
never to transact to-day what could be postponed till
to-morrow. Unhappily, such is the practice of many besides
that minister, already almost forgotten; the practice is that of
the indolent and the unsuccessful. Such men, too, are apt
to rely upon agents, who are not always to be relied upon.
Important affairs must be attended to in person. “If
you want your business done,” says the proverb, “go
and do it; if you don’t want it done, send some one
else.”

An indolent country gentleman had a freehold estate producing
about five hundred a-year. Becoming involved in debt, he
sold half the estate, and let the remainder to an industrious
farmer for twenty years. About the end of the term the
farmer called to pay his rent, and asked the owner whether he
would sell the farm. “Will you buy it?”
asked the owner, surprised. “Yes, if we can agree
about the price.” “That is exceedingly
strange,” observed the gentleman; “pray, tell me how
it happens that, while I could not live upon twice as much land
for which I paid no rent, you are regularly paying me two hundred
a-year for your farm, and are able, in a few years, to purchase
it.” “The reason is plain,” was the
reply; “you sat still and said Go, I got up and said
Come; you laid in bed and enjoyed your estate, I rose in
the morning and minded my business.”

Sir Walter Scott, writing to a youth who had obtained a
situation and asked for his advice, gave him in reply this sound
counsel: “Beware of stumbling over a propensity which
easily besets you from not having your time fully
employed—I mean what the women call dawdling.
Your motto must be, Hoc age. Do instantly whatever
is to be done, and take the hours of recreation after business,
never before it. When a regiment is under march, the rear
is often thrown into confusion because the front do not move
steadily and without interruption. It is the same with
business. If that which is first in hand is not instantly,
steadily, and regularly despatched, other things accumulate
behind, till affairs begin to press all at once, and no human
brain can stand the confusion.”

Promptitude in action may be stimulated by a due consideration
of the value of time. An Italian philosopher was accustomed
to call time his estate: an estate which produces nothing of
value without cultivation, but, duly improved, never fails to
recompense the labours of the diligent worker. Allowed to
lie waste, the product will be only noxious weeds and vicious
growths of all kinds. One of the minor uses of steady
employment is, that it keeps one out of mischief, for truly an
idle brain is the devil’s workshop, and a lazy man the
devil’s bolster. To be occupied is to be possessed as
by a tenant, whereas to be idle is to be empty; and when the
doors of the imagination are opened, temptation finds a ready
access, and evil thoughts come trooping in. It is observed
at sea, that men are never so much disposed to grumble and mutiny
as when least employed. Hence an old captain, when there
was nothing else to do, would issue the order to “scour the
anchor!”

Men of business are accustomed to quote the maxim that Time is
money; but it is more; the proper improvement of it is
self-culture, self-improvement, and growth of character. An
hour wasted daily on trifles or in indolence, would, if devoted
to self-improvement, make an ignorant man wise in a few years,
and employed in good works, would make his life fruitful, and
death a harvest of worthy deeds. Fifteen minutes a day
devoted to self-improvement, will be felt at the end of the
year. Good thoughts and carefully gathered experience take
up no room, and may be carried about as our companions
everywhere, without cost or incumbrance. An economical use
of time is the true mode of securing leisure: it enables us to
get through business and carry it forward, instead of being
driven by it. On the other hand, the miscalculation of time
involves us in perpetual hurry, confusion, and difficulties; and
life becomes a mere shuffle of expedients, usually followed by
disaster. Nelson once said, “I owe all my success in
life to having been always a quarter of an hour before my
time.”

Some take no thought of the value of money until they have
come to an end of it, and many do the same with their time.
The hours are allowed to flow by unemployed, and then, when life
is fast waning, they bethink themselves of the duty of making a
wiser use of it. But the habit of listlessness and idleness
may already have become confirmed, and they are unable to break
the bonds with which they have permitted themselves to become
bound. Lost wealth may be replaced by industry, lost
knowledge by study, lost health by temperance or medicine, but
lost time is gone for ever.

A proper consideration of the value of time, will also inspire
habits of punctuality. “Punctuality,” said
Louis XIV., “is the politeness of kings.” It is
also the duty of gentlemen, and the necessity of men of
business. Nothing begets confidence in a man sooner than
the practice of this virtue, and nothing shakes confidence sooner
than the want of it. He who holds to his appointment and
does not keep you waiting for him, shows that he has regard for
your time as well as for his own. Thus punctuality is one
of the modes by which we testify our personal respect for those
whom we are called upon to meet in the business of life. It
is also conscientiousness in a measure; for an appointment is a
contract, express or implied, and he who does not keep it breaks
faith, as well as dishonestly uses other people’s time, and
thus inevitably loses character. We naturally come to the
conclusion that the person who is careless about time will be
careless about business, and that he is not the one to be trusted
with the transaction of matters of importance. When
Washington’s secretary excused himself for the lateness of
his attendance and laid the blame upon his watch, his master
quietly said, “Then you must get another watch, or I
another secretary.”

The person who is negligent of time and its employment is
usually found to be a general disturber of others’ peace
and serenity. It was wittily said by Lord Chesterfield of
the old Duke of Newcastle—“His Grace loses an hour in
the morning, and is looking for it all the rest of the
day.” Everybody with whom the unpunctual man has to
do is thrown from time to time into a state of fever: he is
systematically late; regular only in his irregularity. He
conducts his dawdling as if upon system; arrives at his
appointment after time; gets to the railway station after the
train has started; posts his letter when the box has
closed. Thus business is thrown into confusion, and
everybody concerned is put out of temper. It will generally
be found that the men who are thus habitually behind time are as
habitually behind success; and the world generally casts them
aside to swell the ranks of the grumblers and the railers against
fortune.

In addition to the ordinary working qualities the business man
of the highest class requires quick perception and firmness in
the execution of his plans. Tact is also important; and
though this is partly the gift of nature, it is yet capable of
being cultivated and developed by observation and
experience. Men of this quality are quick to see the right
mode of action, and if they have decision of purpose, are prompt
to carry out their undertakings to a successful issue.
These qualities are especially valuable, and indeed
indispensable, in those who direct the action of other men on a
large scale, as for instance, in the case of the commander of an
army in the field. It is not merely necessary that the
general should be great as a warrior but also as a man of
business. He must possess great tact, much knowledge of
character, and ability to organize the movements of a large mass
of men, whom he has to feed, clothe, and furnish with whatever
may be necessary in order that they may keep the field and win
battles. In these respects Napoleon and Wellington were
both first-rate men of business.

Though Napoleon had an immense love for details, he had also a
vivid power of imagination, which enabled him to look along
extended lines of action, and deal with those details on a large
scale, with judgment and rapidity. He possessed such
knowledge of character as enabled him to select, almost
unerringly, the best agents for the execution of his
designs. But he trusted as little as possible to agents in
matters of great moment, on which important results
depended. This feature in his character is illustrated in a
remarkable degree by the ‘Napoleon Correspondence,’
now in course of publication, and particularly by the contents of
the 15th volume, [277] which include the letters, orders, and
despatches, written by the Emperor at Finkenstein, a little
chateau on the frontier of Poland in the year 1807, shortly after
the victory of Eylau.

The French army was then lying encamped along the river
Passarge with the Russians before them, the Austrians on their
right flank, and the conquered Prussians in their rear. A
long line of communications had to be maintained with France,
through a hostile country; but so carefully, and with such
foresight was this provided for, that it is said Napoleon never
missed a post. The movements of armies, the bringing up of
reinforcements from remote points in France, Spain, Italy, and
Germany, the opening of canals and the levelling of roads to
enable the produce of Poland and Prussia to be readily
transported to his encampments, had his unceasing attention, down
to the minutest details. We find him directing where horses
were to be obtained, making arrangements for an adequate supply
of saddles, ordering shoes for the soldiers, and specifying the
number of rations of bread, biscuit, and spirits, that were to be
brought to camp, or stored in magazines for the use of the
troops. At the same time we find him writing to Paris
giving directions for the reorganization of the French College,
devising a scheme of public education, dictating bulletins and
articles for the ‘Moniteur,’ revising the details of
the budgets, giving instructions to architects as to alterations
to be made at the Tuileries and the Church of the Madelaine,
throwing an occasional sarcasm at Madame de Stael and the
Parisian journals, interfering to put down a squabble at the
Grand Opera, carrying on a correspondence with the Sultan of
Turkey and the Schah of Persia, so that while his body was at
Finkenstein, his mind seemed to be working at a hundred different
places in Paris, in Europe, and throughout the world.

We find him in one letter asking Ney if he has duly received
the muskets which have been sent him; in another he gives
directions to Prince Jerome as to the shirts, greatcoats,
clothes, shoes, shakos, and arms, to be served out to the
Wurtemburg regiments; again he presses Cambacérès
to forward to the army a double stock of corn—“The
ifs and the buts,” said he, “are at
present out of season, and above all it must be done with
speed.” Then he informs Daru that the army want
shirts, and that they don’t come to hand. To Massena
he writes, “Let me know if your biscuit and bread
arrangements are yet completed.” To the Grand due de
Berg, he gives directions as to the accoutrements of the
cuirassiers—“They complain that the men want sabres;
send an officer to obtain them at Posen. It is also said
they want helmets; order that they be made at Ebling. . . . It is
not by sleeping that one can accomplish anything.”
Thus no point of detail was neglected, and the energies of all
were stimulated into action with extraordinary power.
Though many of the Emperor’s days were occupied by
inspections of his troops,—in the course of which he
sometimes rode from thirty to forty leagues a day,—and by
reviews, receptions, and affairs of state, leaving but little
time for business matters, he neglected nothing on that account;
but devoted the greater part of his nights, when necessary, to
examining budgets, dictating dispatches, and attending to the
thousand matters of detail in the organization and working of the
Imperial Government; the machinery of which was for the most part
concentrated in his own head.

Like Napoleon, the Duke of Wellington was a first-rate man of
business; and it is not perhaps saying too much to aver that it
was in no small degree because of his possession of a business
faculty amounting to genius, that the Duke never lost a
battle.

While a subaltern, he became dissatisfied with the slowness of
his promotion, and having passed from the infantry to the cavalry
twice, and back again, without advancement, he applied to Lord
Camden, then Viceroy of Ireland, for employment in the Revenue or
Treasury Board. Had he succeeded, no doubt he would have
made a first-rate head of a department, as he would have made a
first-rate merchant or manufacturer. But his application
failed, and he remained with the army to become the greatest of
British generals.

The Duke began his active military career under the Duke of
York and General Walmoden, in Flanders and Holland, where he
learnt, amidst misfortunes and defeats, how bad business
arrangements and bad generalship serve to ruin the morale
of an army. Ten years after entering the army we find him a
colonel in India, reported by his superiors as an officer of
indefatigable energy and application. He entered into the
minutest details of the service, and sought to raise the
discipline of his men to the highest standard. “The
regiment of Colonel Wellesley,” wrote General Harris in
1799, “is a model regiment; on the score of soldierly
bearing, discipline, instruction, and orderly behaviour it is
above all praise.” Thus qualifying himself for posts
of greater confidence, he was shortly after nominated governor of
the capital of Mysore. In the war with the Mahrattas he was
first called upon to try his hand at generalship; and at
thirty-four he won the memorable battle of Assaye, with an army
composed of 1500 British and 5000 sepoys, over 20,000 Mahratta
infantry and 30,000 cavalry. But so brilliant a victory did
not in the least disturb his equanimity, or affect the perfect
honesty of his character.

Shortly after this event the opportunity occurred for
exhibiting his admirable practical qualities as an
administrator. Placed in command of an important district
immediately after the capture of Seringapatam, his first object
was to establish rigid order and discipline among his own
men. Flushed with victory, the troops were found riotous
and disorderly. “Send me the provost marshal,”
said he, “and put him under my orders: till some of the
marauders are hung, it is impossible to expect order or
safety.” This rigid severity of Wellington in the
field, though it was the dread, proved the salvation of his
troops in many campaigns. His next step was to re-establish
the markets and re-open the sources of supply. General
Harris wrote to the Governor-general, strongly commending Colonel
Wellesley for the perfect discipline he had established, and for
his “judicious and masterly arrangements in respect to
supplies, which opened an abundant free market, and inspired
confidence into dealers of every description.” The
same close attention to, and mastery of details, characterized
him throughout his Indian career; and it is remarkable that one
of his ablest despatches to Lord Clive, full of practical
information as to the conduct of the campaign, was written whilst
the column he commanded was crossing the Toombuddra, in the face
of the vastly superior army of Dhoondiah, posted on the opposite
bank, and while a thousand matters of the deepest interest were
pressing upon the commander’s mind. But it was one of
his most remarkable characteristics, thus to be able to withdraw
himself temporarily from the business immediately in hand, and to
bend his full powers upon the consideration of matters totally
distinct; even the most difficult circumstances on such occasions
failing to embarrass or intimidate him.

Returned to England with a reputation for generalship, Sir
Arthur Wellesley met with immediate employment. In 1808 a
corps of 10,000 men destined to liberate Portugal was placed
under his charge. He landed, fought, and won two battles,
and signed the Convention of Cintra. After the death of Sir
John Moore he was entrusted with the command of a new expedition
to Portugal. But Wellington was fearfully overmatched
throughout his Peninsular campaigns. From 1809 to 1813 he
never had more than 30,000 British troops under his command, at a
time when there stood opposed to him in the Peninsula some
350,000 French, mostly veterans, led by some of Napoleon’s
ablest generals. How was he to contend against such immense
forces with any fair prospect of success? His clear
discernment and strong common sense soon taught him that he must
adopt a different policy from that of the Spanish generals, who
were invariably beaten and dispersed whenever they ventured to
offer battle in the open plains. He perceived he had yet to
create the army that was to contend against the French with any
reasonable chance of success. Accordingly, after the battle
of Talavera in 1809, when he found himself encompassed on all
sides by superior forces of French, he retired into Portugal,
there to carry out the settled policy on which he had by this
time determined. It was, to organise a Portuguese army
under British officers, and teach them to act in combination with
his own troops, in the mean time avoiding the peril of a defeat
by declining all engagements. He would thus, he conceived,
destroy the morale of the French, who could not exist
without victories; and when his army was ripe for action, and the
enemy demoralized, he would then fall upon them with all his
might.

The extraordinary qualities displayed by Lord Wellington
throughout these immortal campaigns, can only be appreciated
after a perusal of his despatches, which contain the unvarnished
tale of the manifold ways and means by which he laid the
foundations of his success. Never was man more tried by
difficulty and opposition, arising not less from the imbecility,
falsehoods and intrigues of the British Government of the day,
than from the selfishness, cowardice, and vanity of the people he
went to save. It may, indeed, be said of him, that he
sustained the war in Spain by his individual firmness and
self-reliance, which never failed him even in the midst of his
great discouragements. He had not only to fight
Napoleon’s veterans, but also to hold in check the Spanish
juntas and the Portuguese regency. He had the utmost
difficulty in obtaining provisions and clothing for his troops;
and it will scarcely be credited that, while engaged with the
enemy in the battle of Talavera, the Spaniards, who ran away,
fell upon the baggage of the British army, and the ruffians
actually plundered it! These and other vexations the Duke
bore with a sublime patience and self-control, and held on his
course, in the face of ingratitude, treachery, and opposition,
with indomitable firmness. He neglected nothing, and
attended to every important detail of business himself.
When he found that food for his troops was not to be obtained
from England, and that he must rely upon his own resources for
feeding them, he forthwith commenced business as a corn merchant
on a large scale, in copartnery with the British Minister at
Lisbon. Commissariat bills were created, with which grain
was bought in the ports of the Mediterranean and in South
America. When he had thus filled his magazines, the
overplus was sold to the Portuguese, who were greatly in want of
provisions. He left nothing whatever to chance, but
provided for every contingency. He gave his attention to
the minutest details of the service; and was accustomed to
concentrate his whole energies, from time to time, on such
apparently ignominious matters as soldiers’ shoes,
camp-kettles, biscuits and horse fodder. His magnificent
business qualities were everywhere felt, and there can be no
doubt that, by the care with which he provided for every
contingency, and the personal attention which he gave to every
detail, he laid the foundations of his great success. [283] By such means he transformed an
army of raw levies into the best soldiers in Europe, with whom he
declared it to be possible to go anywhere and do anything.

We have already referred to his remarkable power of
abstracting himself from the work, no matter how engrossing,
immediately in hand, and concentrating his energies upon the
details of some entirely different business. Thus Napier
relates that it was while he was preparing to fight the battle of
Salamanca that he had to expose to the Ministers at home the
futility of relying upon a loan; it was on the heights of San
Christoval, on the field of battle itself, that he demonstrated
the absurdity of attempting to establish a Portuguese bank; it
was in the trenches of Burgos that he dissected Funchal’s
scheme of finance, and exposed the folly of attempting the sale
of church property; and on each occasion, he showed himself as
well acquainted with these subjects as with the minutest detail
in the mechanism of armies.

Another feature in his character, showing the upright man of
business, was his thorough honesty. Whilst Soult ransacked
and carried away with him from Spain numerous pictures of great
value, Wellington did not appropriate to himself a single
farthing’s worth of property. Everywhere he paid his
way, even when in the enemy’s country. When he had
crossed the French frontier, followed by 40,000 Spaniards, who
sought to “make fortunes” by pillage and plunder, he
first rebuked their officers, and then, finding his efforts to
restrain them unavailing, he sent them back into their own
country. It is a remarkable fact, that, even in France the
peasantry fled from their own countrymen, and carried their
valuables within the protection of the British lines! At
the very same time, Wellington was writing home to the British
Ministry, “We are overwhelmed with debts, and I can
scarcely stir out of my house on account of public creditors
waiting to demand payment of what is due to them.”
Jules Maurel, in his estimate of the Duke’s character,
says, “Nothing can be grander or more nobly original than
this admission. This old soldier, after thirty years’
service, this iron man and victorious general, established in an
enemy’s country at the head of an immense army, is afraid
of his creditors! This is a kind of fear that has seldom
troubled the mind of conquerors and invaders; and I doubt if the
annals of war could present anything comparable to this sublime
simplicity.” But the Duke himself, had the matter
been put to him, would most probably have disclaimed any
intention of acting even grandly or nobly in the matter; merely
regarding the punctual payment of his debts as the best and most
honourable mode of conducting his business.

The truth of the good old maxim, that “Honesty is the
best policy,” is upheld by the daily experience of life;
uprightness and integrity being found as successful in business
as in everything else. As Hugh Miller’s worthy uncle
used to advise him, “In all your dealings give your
neighbour the cast of the bank—‘good measure, heaped
up, and running over,’—and you will not lose by it in
the end.” A well-known brewer of beer attributed his
success to the liberality with which he used his malt.
Going up to the vat and tasting it, he would say, “Still
rather poor, my lads; give it another cast of the
malt.” The brewer put his character into his beer,
and it proved generous accordingly, obtaining a reputation in
England, India, and the colonies, which laid the foundation of a
large fortune. Integrity of word and deed ought to be the
very cornerstone of all business transactions. To the
tradesman, the merchant, and manufacturer, it should be what
honour is to the soldier, and charity to the Christian. In
the humblest calling there will always be found scope for the
exercise of this uprightness of character. Hugh Miller
speaks of the mason with whom he served his apprenticeship, as
one who “put his conscience into every stone that he
laid.” So the true mechanic will pride himself
upon the thoroughness and solidity of his work, and the
high-minded contractor upon the honesty of performance of his
contract in every particular. The upright manufacturer will
find not only honour and reputation, but substantial success, in
the genuineness of the article which he produces, and the
merchant in the honesty of what he sells, and that it really is
what it seems to be. Baron Dupin, speaking of the general
probity of Englishmen, which he held to be a principal cause of
their success, observed, “We may succeed for a time by
fraud, by surprise, by violence; but we can succeed permanently
only by means directly opposite. It is not alone the
courage, the intelligence, the activity, of the merchant and
manufacturer which maintain the superiority of their productions
and the character of their country; it is far more their wisdom,
their economy, and, above all, their probity. If ever in
the British Islands the useful citizen should lose these virtues,
we may be sure that, for England, as for every other country, the
vessels of a degenerate commerce, repulsed from every shore,
would speedily disappear from those seas whose surface they now
cover with the treasures of the universe, bartered for the
treasures of the industry of the three kingdoms.”

It must be admitted, that Trade tries character perhaps more
severely than any other pursuit in life. It puts to the
severest tests honesty, self-denial, justice, and truthfulness;
and men of business who pass through such trials unstained are
perhaps worthy of as great honour as soldiers who prove their
courage amidst the fire and perils of battle. And, to the
credit of the multitudes of men engaged in the various
departments of trade, we think it must be admitted that on the
whole they pass through their trials nobly. If we reflect
but for a moment on the vast amount of wealth daily entrusted
even to subordinate persons, who themselves probably earn but a
bare competency—the loose cash which is constantly passing
through the hands of shopmen, agents, brokers, and clerks in
banking houses,—and note how comparatively few are the
breaches of trust which occur amidst all this temptation, it will
probably be admitted that this steady daily honesty of conduct is
most honourable to human nature, if it do not even tempt us to be
proud of it. The same trust and confidence reposed by men
of business in each other, as implied by the system of Credit,
which is mainly based upon the principle of honour, would be
surprising if it were not so much a matter of ordinary practice
in business transactions. Dr. Chalmers has well said, that
the implicit trust with which merchants are accustomed to confide
in distant agents, separated from them perhaps by half the
globe—often consigning vast wealth to persons, recommended
only by their character, whom perhaps they have never
seen—is probably the finest act of homage which men can
render to one another.

Although common honesty is still happily in the ascendant
amongst common people, and the general business community of
England is still sound at heart, putting their honest character
into their respective callings,—there are unhappily, as
there have been in all times, but too many instances of flagrant
dishonesty and fraud, exhibited by the unscrupulous, the
over-speculative, and the intensely selfish in their haste to be
rich. There are tradesmen who adulterate, contractors who
“scamp,” manufacturers who give us shoddy instead of
wool, “dressing” instead of cotton, cast-iron tools
instead of steel, needles without eyes, razors made only
“to sell,” and swindled fabrics in many shapes.
But these we must hold to be the exceptional cases, of low-minded
and grasping men, who, though they may gain wealth which they
probably cannot enjoy, will never gain an honest character, nor
secure that without which wealth is nothing—a heart at
peace. “The rogue cozened not me, but his own
conscience,” said Bishop Latimer of a cutler who made him
pay twopence for a knife not worth a penny. Money, earned
by screwing, cheating, and overreaching, may for a time dazzle
the eyes of the unthinking; but the bubbles blown by unscrupulous
rogues, when full-blown, usually glitter only to burst. The
Sadleirs, Dean Pauls, and Redpaths, for the most part, come to a
sad end even in this world; and though the successful swindles of
others may not be “found out,” and the gains of their
roguery may remain with them, it will be as a curse and not as a
blessing.

It is possible that the scrupulously honest man may not grow
rich so fast as the unscrupulous and dishonest one; but the
success will be of a truer kind, earned without fraud or
injustice. And even though a man should for a time be
unsuccessful, still he must be honest: better lose all and save
character. For character is itself a fortune; and if the
high-principled man will but hold on his way courageously,
success will surely come,—nor will the highest reward of
all be withheld from him. Wordsworth well describes the
“Happy Warrior,” as he

“Who comprehends his trust, and to the
same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait
For wealth, or honour, or for worldly state;
Whom they must follow, on whose head must fall,
Like showers of manna, if they come at all.”

As an example of the high-minded mercantile man trained in
upright habits of business, and distinguished for justice,
truthfulness, and honesty of dealing in all things, the career of
the well-known David Barclay, grandson of Robert Barclay, of Ury,
the author of the celebrated ‘Apology for the
Quakers,’ may be briefly referred to. For many years
he was the head of an extensive house in Cheapside, chiefly
engaged in the American trade; but like Granville Sharp, he
entertained so strong an opinion against the war with our
American colonies, that he determined to retire altogether from
the trade. Whilst a merchant, he was as much distinguished
for his talents, knowledge, integrity, and power, as he
afterwards was for his patriotism and munificent
philanthropy. He was a mirror of truthfulness and honesty;
and, as became the good Christian and true gentleman, his word
was always held to be as good as his bond. His position,
and his high character, induced the Ministers of the day on many
occasions to seek his advice; and, when examined before the House
of Commons on the subject of the American dispute, his views were
so clearly expressed, and his advice was so strongly justified by
the reasons stated by him, that Lord North publicly acknowledged
that he had derived more information from David Barclay than from
all others east of Temple Bar. On retiring from business,
it was not to rest in luxurious ease, but to enter upon new
labours of usefulness for others. With ample means, he felt
that he still owed to society the duty of a good example.
He founded a house of industry near his residence at Walthamstow,
which he supported at a heavy outlay for several years, until at
length he succeeded in rendering it a source of comfort as well
as independence to the well-disposed families of the poor in that
neighbourhood. When an estate in Jamaica fell to him, he
determined, though at a cost of some 10,000l., at once to
give liberty to the whole of the slaves on the property. He
sent out an agent, who hired a ship, and he had the little slave
community transported to one of the free American states, where
they settled down and prospered. Mr. Barclay had been
assured that the negroes were too ignorant and too barbarous for
freedom, and it was thus that he determined practically to
demonstrate the fallacy of the assertion. In dealing with
his accumulated savings, he made himself the executor of his own
will, and instead of leaving a large fortune to be divided among
his relatives at his death, he extended to them his munificent
aid during his life, watched and aided them in their respective
careers, and thus not only laid the foundation, but lived to see
the maturity, of some of the largest and most prosperous business
concerns in the metropolis. We believe that to this day
some of our most eminent merchants—such as the Gurneys,
Hanburys, and Buxtons—are proud to acknowledge with
gratitude the obligations they owe to David Barclay for the means
of their first introduction to life, and for the benefits of his
counsel and countenance in the early stages of their
career. Such a man stands as a mark of the mercantile
honesty and integrity of his country, and is a model and example
for men of business in all time to come.