The successful merchant : sketches of the life of Mr. Samuel Budgett, late of Kingswood Hill

Preface

On the day that Mr. Budgett died I was in Bristol, staying with one whose heart was that day full. He who had just departed was naturally the subject of conversation, and the incidents of his early life were freely talked over. Just then the prospect of a long involuntary leisure was before me; and designs for improving it by literary occupation were already formed. But as the uncommon history of the deceased merchant was discussed, the thought arose that to make it the subject of a commercial biography would be the most useful application of the expected leisure. This design was more homely than those originally entertained, and, at first, not. very welcome; but after some time spent in silently yp iv PREFACE.

observing and inquiring, the conviction of its superior usefulness was confirmed.

I therefore ventured to request permission from the family to acquaint myself with all the accessible details of his life, and to prepare them for the public in the form which had suggested itself tome. The request was unexpected, but was kindly met; and without a trace of the vulgar reluctance to allude to the earlier stages of a remarkable rise, every particular was communicated and freely left at my disposal. A strong desire, indeed, was manifested to lay me under restraint as to anything which might be construed into business display ; but my design required freedom to show what Mr. Budgett had attained, and that I was obliged to use.

I saw him earried to his grave, and that day conversed with numbers of his neighbors and his men, none knowing my intentions.

At long intervals, such conversations were repeated with many who had known him closely 5.

a

PREFACE. Vv and certainly very seldom has a master been portrayed so much by the hand of his own men, or a citizen by that of his neighbors, as in the following pages. ’

Biographers, like portrait painters, are a suspected race: it is generally taken for granted that they paint men as they ought to be; while to the historian you must look for the delineation of men as they are. How far the infirmity of the race besets me would not be discussed impartially just here; but it may fairly be said that, in the picture you are asked to look upon, an effort has been made to insert, with a firm hand, every real scar. Some will say they are too slight; others will say they are too deep, and these they who most intimately knew the original.

The design of this volume is to furnish a work wherein an actual and a remarkable life is traced in relation to commerce. It was never meant to enlarge the knowledge of the scholar, to mature the graces of the holy, or v1 PREFACE.

to hallow the retirement of the contemplative ; but to be a friendly, familiar book for the busy, to which men from the counting-house or the shop might turn, feeling that it concerned them, and for which they might possibly be the better here and hereafter. Beyond this, one hope did arise,—that it might perhaps meet the eye of some whose leisure, abilities, and spirit would fit them to direct a more powerful literature or a sacred eloquence to the quickening of commercial life with the principles of Christian charity and uprightness. May God grant that, by the instrumentality of this humble book, some youths may be led to habits which will be “ profitable to all things,’ some men lifted above the trammels of commercial selfishness, and some preachers or authors moved to labor to bring religion and business into closer union !

VIL—IN HIS owN NEIGHBOURHOOD..........008-

. CONTENTS.

CHAP.

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Si ——Paes Born MERCHANT: si. .cclessceoces toe cosas.

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VI.

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Che Successful Merchant,

———

CHAPTER Il.

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o’er life’s solemn main, A forlorn and shipwreck’d brother, Seeing, shall take heart again —LoNGFELLOW.

Kineswoop is not a bewitching place. Going out from Bristol, you find the road skirted by rough cottages, prolific of a rough population. Here and there is a man whose complexion has just been painted in the coal-pit, or a woman in costume appropriate to other ages,—a long great-coat of dark-blue cloth, with manifold capes, like a coachman’s, surmounted by a quaint black hat, with a low crown, and a leaf spreading widely all round, but lapped down about the ears. To the eye of a stranger, the neighbourhood seems to lie at a distance from our day. But a few modern houses,

_ aspiring towards respectability, a modern church, and modern chapels, all in very good taste, show yp ; ;

that a new spirit of improvement has broken in upon the old apathy of the place.

Just at the top of Kingswood Hill, about four miles from Bristol, a lane turns off from the main road. A few dozen yards down that lane, you find gates that indicate the entrgnce to a substantial residence. Passing inside, you are in grounds where shrubs and statues pleasantly contrast with the adjacent rudeness. To your left,is a handsome house. On a bright green lawn, just before the door, stand a fountain, an arbour of weeping ash, and a pedestal supporting a sun-dial. On the other side of the lawn, spangled groups of flowers appear through the transparent walls of a conservatory ; and close by, in a-large and handsome aviary, a silver pheasant holds court over a tribe of birds, some curious, some musical. Down a gentle slope, the grounds spread over a surface of about fifteen acres, where you see patches of plantation, a speck of water enlivened by some rare poultry, and a troop of sheep graced by a stag and fawn. Beyond this, the view stretches away up a rich valley, and then far on, over undulating lands, till, in the distance, the eye catches a lofty monument at Dursley, some twenty miles away. A cottage here and there decks the green fields, with its red tiles and walls of shiny white. The prospect convinces you that nature is -not to be blamed for the roughness of the neighbourhood. ‘The residence and grounds show, that some one was found who could appreciate the advantages which nature offered,

On Wednesday, the 7th of May, 1851, just before the village clock struck twelve, you might have seen a strange, new foreground to the pleasant picture which lies in front of that dwelling. On the circular pathway before the door, about two hundred men stood ranged in order, two by two. Each figure was clad in a mourning cloak, each hat had a funeral band. A listless look you did not see, nor a head carried thoughtlessly. Those at the rear of the column were only boys; before these were youths; and so advancing, till, near its head, you found gray-haired men; and they appeared the saddest. That long column,—black, black, all black,—did look deeply mournful, in front of the pleasant lawns and the bright Gloucestershire valley, in their May-day leaf and bloom. The head of the column stood close by the portico of the house. A bier was there. A single glance would have told a stranger all;—the master of the place was gone, and his retainers had gathered to honour his burial !

Inside the gates, everything told you that the residence had lost its master. Outside, everything told you that the village had lost its chief man. The houses had their blinds drawn down; the shops were closed; the whole population seemed abroad and eager. A dense crowd stood round the gates; and all along the road, “to the place of sepulchre,” for a quarter of a mile and more, was ranged an

_ expecting throng. Never before, though familiar with Irish funerals, had I witnessed such an assembly at an interment—at least, never but once; and that was on the occasion when even the volatile heart of Paris was heavy for a day, while her whole population came forth to follow the bier of those who had perished in the frantic battle of June, 1848.

How natural it is, when one sees a funeral indicating wealth or influence, to think of Southey’s forcible piece, and to watch among the attendants for tokens of the place the departed held in their hearts :—

These mourners here, who from their carriages Gape at the gaping crowd. <A good March wind Were to be pray’d for now, to lend their eyes Some decent rheum; the very hireling mute Bears not a face more blank of all emotion

Than the old servant of the family :

How can this man have lived, that thus his death Costs not the soiling one white handkerchief!

It was not so here. As you looked-along that numerous “ following,” from the men that bore the coffin to the boys that brought up the distant rear, you felt that it was not a pageant, but a mourning.

The procession entered a spacious chapel. Every nook was soon crowded, and a surplus throng remained without. While the solemn service was read, you could see, among the workingmen who had followed the bier, many a countenance very deeply shaded. A minister then addressed the multitude. He spoke of the deceased, not in graceful and balanced eulogies, but with a gush of hearty regard that was not to be framed up and

© 4 gilded. He spoke of worth and bounties as of things that all present knew as well as he; and as he spoke, all faces gathered feeling. “Those hands,” he cried, “have given away their hundreds upon hundreds;” and then, perhaps, you seldom saw so many men quite melted. Many an eye was full, and many an eye ran over.

Just as the coffin was lowered into the vault, a woman, standing behind me in the crowd, said, “ Ah, poor man! hope he’s gone happy !”

“Gone happy!” replied a neighbour ; “if he isn’t gone happy, what must ws do?”

Turning away with the slowly-retiring crowd, I said to a woman, “ Have you often such funerals as this in Kingswood 2”

She looked at me in a style not at all complimentary to my intelligence, as if to say, “ Where can you have spent your days, to ask a question like that?” Then exclaiming, with special emphasis, “ Niver!” she left me to better my information.

Joming a poor, but thoughtful-looking man, I said, “‘ This is a remarkable funeral.”

“Yes, sir; such a one as we never had in Kingswood before.” Then pausing, he added, sadly, “The best man in Kingswood gone to-day !”

A few days afterwards, meeting with an elderly man, whom I had seen as one of the retinue of mourners, I asked him if he had not been in the

_ employment of the deceased merchant.

“Yes, sir, for seventeen years.” Then his counm tenance flushed, and he added, “ Ah, sir! a great man fallen !”

I coolly observed, that I supposed he had been an important man in the neighbourhood.

“In the neighbourhood !” replied the old man, “there wasn’t his equal in all England. No tongue can ever tell all that man did.”

This man was about sixty years of age. His hair was gray; and as he thus spoke of his late master, to a perfect stranger, the tears fell fast.

Ah! ye cotton lords and corn lords, for whom many toil in factory or in field, that would be no. unworthy monument,—a man who had grown gray in your service, weeping at the mention of your name. But such a monument as that, like a Parian monument, costs a price. It never comes unbought. And it must be paid for in your own hfetime, and with your own hand. Your will, or your survivors, may secure a marble that will droop and mourn over your grave for centuries; but if you would have a few warm tears from the heart of a poor man, neither heir nor will can buy them. “ Rarely,” said the ‘Bristol Times’ of that week, “has a neighbourhood suffered a greater loss, in the deagh of a man, than Kingswood in the decease of Mr. Budgett, slieige charity was unbounded, and who distributed with discrimination and liberality, and without ostentation, fully £2,000 a year from his own pocket.”

I do not now wait to inquire whether this estimate is too high or too low; but when a man is

SPHERE WHEREIN HE MOVED. a thus spoken of in his own vicinity, you can understand how some tears should fall at his removal. And who was this man, whose death moved an entire neighbourhood, and wrung individual hearts ? You might often have seen driving into Bristol, a man under the middle size, verging towards sixty, wrapped up in a coat of deep olive, with gray hair, an open countenance, a quick brown eye, and an air less expressive of polish than of push. He drives a phaeton, with a first-rate horse, at full speed. He looks as if he had work to do, and had the art of doing it. On the way he overtakes a woman carrying a bundle. In an instant the horse is reined up by her side, and a voice of contagious promptitude tells her to put up her bundle and mount. The voice communicates to the astonished pedestrian its own energy. She is forthwith seated, and away dashes the phaeton. In a few minutes the stranger is deposited in Bristol, with the present of some pretty little book, and the phaeton hastens on to Nelson-street. There it turns into the archway of an immense warehouse. “ Here, boy; take my horse! take my horse!” It is the voice of the head of the firm. The boy flies. The master passes through the offices as at he had three days’ work to do. Yet his eye notes everything. He reaches his private office. He takes from his pocket a memorandum-book, on which he has set down, in order, the duties of the day. <A boy waits at the door. He glances at his book, and orders the boy to call a clerk. The clerk is there promptly, and receives his instructions in a moment. “Now, what is the next thing?” asks the master, glancing at his memorandum. Again the boy is on the wing, and another clerk appears. He is soon dismissed. “ Now, what is the next thing?” again looking at the memorandum. At the call of the messenger, 4 young man now approaches the office-door. He is a “traveller;” but notwithstanding the habitual push and self-possession of his class, he evidently is approaching his employer with reluctance and embarrassment. He almost pauses at the entrance. And now that he is face to face with the strict man of business, he feels much confused.

“Well, what’s the matter? I understand you can’t make your cash quite right.”

No, Sir.”

“How much are ig short ?”

“Hight pounds, sir.”

“Never mind; I am quite sure you — done what is right said honourable. It is some mistake ; and you won’t let it happen again. Take this and make your account straight.”

The young man takes the proffered paper. He sees an order for ten pounds; and retires as full of admiration as he had approached full of anxiety.

“Now, what is the next thing?” This time a porter is summoned. He comes forward as if he expected rebuke. “Ol! I have got such a complaint reported against you. You know that will never do, You must not let that occur again.”

Thus, with incredible despatch, matter after matter is settled, and all who leave that office go to their work as if some one had oiled all their joints.

At another time, you find the master passing through the warehouse. Here, his quick glance descries a man who is moving drowsily, and he says a sharp word that makes him, in a moment, nimble. There, he sees another blundering at his work. He had no idea that the master’s eye was upon him, till he finds himself suddenly supplanted at the job. In a trice, it is done; and his master leaves him to digest the stimulant. Now, a man comes up to tell him of some plan he has in his mind, for improving something in his own department of the business. “Yes, thank you, that’s a good idea;” and putting half-a-crown into his hand, he passes on. In another place he finds aman idling. You can soon see, that of all spectacles this is the one least to his mind. “Tf you waste five minutes, that is not much; but probably if you waste five minutes yourself, you lead some one else to waste five minutes, and that makes ten. Ifa third follow your example, that makes a quarter of an hour. Now, there are about a hundred and eighty of us here; and if every one wasted five minutes in a day, what would it come to? Let me see. Why, it would be fifteen hours; and fifteen hours a day, would be ninety hours, about eight days, working time, in a week; and in a year, would be four hundred days. Do you think we could ever

. stand waste like that?” The poor loiterer is utterly confounded. He had no idea of eating up fifteen hours, much less four hundred days, of his good employer’s time; and he never saw before how fast five minutes could be multiplied.

Turning from this energetic merchant to the establishment of which he is the head, you are astonished at its magnitude and order. “ What. business do you call yours?” would be your natural inquiry. “General Provision Merchants.” And, verily, they do seem bent on making general provision. The warehouse is one hundred and eighty feet long, by three hundred and fifty at its greatest depth. You pass from office to office, from yard to yard, from loft to loft, and from loft to cellar, till you wonder how all this has been brought under one roof. Then you are led across the street to commence a similar process, on a smaller scale, in a bonded warehouse. Even though you have travelled a good deal, you may find the tour of that warehouse a curious and instructive journey. -Here you come upon a region of loaf sugar, where it is stored up, pile upon pile, as if seven years of saccharine famine had been foretold. There you light upon a tract of sugar tierces, before which you cease to wonder at the piles of loaf. “What!” you say to yourself, “are all these tierces to be melted away in tea-cups?” Then, thinking such masses must move off slowly, you ask, “ How much does each tierce weigh 2”

“Ten hundred weight.”

“And do you sell many of them whole ?”

“We sold two hundred and fifty last week.”

SPHERE WHEREIN HE MOVED. ll

Here you come upon a territory overgrown with tea-chests; there, upon a colony of casks replenished with nutmegs, cassia, and all spicery. Again, you are environed with piled-up boxes of fruit ; then, with a vast snowy region of flour. Presently, you are in a land of coffee; then, in a realm where molasses reigns alone, parading itself in hogshead after hogshead, and dozens of hogsheads, till you see there is more molasses in the world than you ever thought before. Now, you are wandering in a wilderness of cheeses; then, on lofts which groan under mountains of peas. Here, tobacco abounds; there, bacon. And, as if to mock your surprise at the large store of articles which rank among the necessaries of life, you find a heap of canary-seed, which, in a barn, would look respectable for a heap of corn. As you prosecute your journey, here you are in stables with stalls for forty or fifty horses; there, in a carpenter’s shop; again, amongst a band of coopers. Below, you find a troop of wagoners, lading their capacious carts, and marching off to distribute the contents to steamboats and railways, in an array that would do no discredit to a military commissariat. In one office (through which you must needs pass to get into the warehouse) you have a clerk whose business is simply to learn your errand, and to direct you accordingly. In another, you have a salesman, surrounded by all manner of samples, and cheerfully at the service of any customer for cash. In another set of offices you have a large array of clerks. In each department you find a head man, with his

_troop under him. Here, they are breaking up tierces of sugar, and mixing the different kinds. There, they are weighing flour. In this corner, you find a man before a solid heap of currants, which stubbornly retains the form of the cask, belabouring it with an instrument uncommonly like a fork in a stable-yard. Here, they are with an order-book, making up the items of an order. There, they are weighing and packing. In a central position, an inspector is placed in a counting-house glazed on all sides, from which he can look out on the whole stream of business, as it passes to and fro. In another place, you find a monster coffee-roaster im full play. Again, you are in a room where some half dozen kinds of tea are ready to be tasted by one of the principals. Presently, you light upon a band who are hidden behind a drapery of flour bags, and, thus secluded, are repairing such bags as have suffered in the service. Near these, you see three boys seated at an anvil, hammering old nails straight. This, you are told, is one of the first steps in the establishment. On entering, a boy is set to this work. If diligent here, he is promoted to serve under the master bag-mender. If he do well there, he is made a messenger. And then, his future position in the house depends entirely on-his ability and application. “But,” you are very likely to ask, “what are these old nails, which the boys are beating straight 2”

“O! they are the old nails picked up about the concern.” | '

“ And are there old nails enough picked up about the concern to keep three boys employed ?”

‘“ Not constantly.”

As you pass through the different scenes of labour, you find the men moving with great regularity. Every one is at work, yet there is no haste. You receive an impression of activity, rather than of bustle. You naturally inquire, ‘“ What are your hours of business 2”

‘“‘The men come at six; some of the clerks at half past seven. We leave just when we have done— the clerks about four; the porters at from five to half-past.”

“«When you have done; what do you mean by that ?”

“We always do the day’s work within the day ; and we are at liberty to leave when it is done.”

You would, perhaps, wish to know more about this doing the day’s work within the day; but for that you must wait till we reach another chapter. At present, we are only looking round the premises and gathering general impressions.

Tn such an establishment one naturally observes the men, to form an idea of their health, their character, and their position as to comfort. That part of one’s survey is often painful enough. In many a prosperous cotton or woollen factory, you see everything which, to an expert eye, tells of ill-health in some, disorderly habits in others, wretched homes _ in a third class; and in particular individuals, the whole of these evils unmistakably meet, for the air, the eye, the gait, the complexion, and the attire, record them as clearly as the most expressive pen. In great iron-works, how painfully an observer feels that some of those brave and brawny fellows, who are performing such herculean labours for the general good, are smking prematurely under the twin effects of fire and intoxication! In some of the arsenals whence issue our matchless Sheffield wares, how sad to look on those busy frames whose life is plainly wasting. In some of the mining districts of Cornwall, it is touching to observe how few old men are to be found in a crowd; and to see here and there a brave young miner bearing fearful tokens of underground accident. In the metropolitan warehouses, how often does the eye turn sad over a countenance where decay is appearing, or where dissipation is recorded! In all these spheres, happily, one may often trace proofs that masters are attentive to the well-being. of those who labour under their eye. In many cases, late years have witnessed great advancement, both in comfort and in morals. But still, in such scenes of industry, there is often enough to make one mourn over the lot of those who are serving us all. I have witnessed hives of labour whence much sweet gain accrued, but one was little tempted to envy him into whose storehouse it came; for, to secure the honey, so many of the bees are sacrificed. Ye that are able to direct those who are only able to toil, ye have a right to goodly gain; but when you count your increase, forget not those

SPHERE WHEREIN HE MOVED. a by whose weary labours you were enabled to carry out your plans. Think what you can do for their health, their homes, their intellect, and their souls.

It is a great pleasure to go through a stirring house of manufacture, or of commerce, and see clean attire, healthy complexions, and cheerful looks. Sometimes one is agreeably surprised to find how far this is the case, even when the occupation and the atmosphere are very unfriendly. But the great warehouse in Nelson-street, Bristol, is exempt from the difficulties which some kinds of business present to cleanliness, cheerfulness, and health. There you see scarcely a face that raises a suspicion of drunken or disorderly habits; scarcely an attire but seems comfortable, according to the grade. You meet with many whose mien tells you explicitly, that they are thoughtful, intelligent men. And several who pass in white apron and cap, strike you at once as having the expression that indicates a mind to which the comforts and the virtue .of piety are habitual. And keep your ear open as you may, you will not catch an oath or ans unseemly word.

In your course round the premises, you meet with one large room, which contains no merchandise, and has no air of business. A long range of neat forms are its sole contents, except a table at the head. On the table lie “Fletcher’s Family Devotion” and “Wesley’s Hymns.” ‘“ What,” you ask, in some doubt, “what is this place ?”

“This is our chapel. A large number of men breakfast on the premises; and before breakfast, half an hour is allowed for family worship. Then the men assemble here for that purpose.”

Family worship here! you are ready to exclaim ; surely it would be wise and good, if a family feeling could be shed over such a vast establishment, and the hearts of the men be saved from feeling, in the haste of business, that all relations but those of commerce were forgotten. Some sacred link ought surely to hallow the intercourse of those whose lot it is, day after day, to toil side by side. How often it seems to be taken for granted, that when the business of a day is begun, in a large concern, all family scenes and all religious thoughts must wait till the day is over!

The morning after Mr. Budgett’s funeral, I was in the warehouse before half-past seven o’clock. The various departments were in full play, and the wagoners packing their, loads. At the half hour, the bell rang. I went into the chapel. It was soon filled with the men in their woxking dress. About eighty assembled. A son of the deceased principal sat at the table. He took up “ Fletcher’s Family Devotion,” and read the portion of Seripture appointed for the 8th of May, with the accompanying reflections. The passage is that which records the wish of the daughters of Zelophehad. The reflections seemed as if they had been framed on purpose to follow the memorable scene in which they had all acted a part yesterday; turning upon the duty of honouring the memory of the departed.

The young’ merchant, himself affected by the circumstances, and by the coincidence of such a lesson coming on that particular morning, addressed the men in a few words of cordial, Christian advice. He then gave out a hymn, which was heartily sung. Next, he called upon one of them by name, to pray. All knelt down, and the man prayed, with fervour and solemnity, for spiritual blessings to them all; for comfort to the bereaved family; and for the business, that God might make it prosper. When he ceased, the young master took up the stram; and thus, men and master unitedly worshipped the great Disposer who appoints the lot of all. About half an hour was spent in this religious service. Little would a man of the world think, in watching the vast trade going forward within those walls, and the vigour with which the whole machine moves, that time is daily found to pause and hearken to a voice from the unerring Guide, and bow down to call for blessings from the Hand that can make everything to speed. And think you that those daily prayers have had no part in the rapid growth and healthy action of that establishment ?