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<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3>
<h4>THE DIVISION OF LABOUR.<br/> </h4>
<p>There were two other chief matters to which it was now necessary that
the Firm should attend; the first and primary being the stock of
advertisements which should be issued; and the other, or secondary,
being the stock of goods which should be obtained to answer the
expectations raised by those advertisements.</p>
<p>"But, George, we must have something to sell," said Mr. Brown, almost
in despair. He did not then understand, and never since has learned
the secrets of that commercial science which his younger partner was
at so much pains to teach. There are things which no elderly man can
learn; and there are lessons which are full of light for the new
recruit, but dark as death to the old veteran.</p>
<p>"It will be so doubtless with me also," said Robinson, soliloquizing
on the subject in his melancholy mood. "The day will come when I too
must be pushed from my stool by the workings of younger genius, and
shall sink, as poor Mr. Brown is now sinking, into the foggy depths
of fogeydom. But a man who is a
<span class="nowrap">man—"</span> and then that melancholy mood
left him, "can surely make his fortune before that day comes. When a
merchant is known to be worth half a million, his fogeydom is
respected."</p>
<p>That necessity of having something to sell almost overcame Mr. Brown
in those days. "What's the good of putting down 5,000 Kolinski and
Minx Boas in the bill, if we don't possess one in the shop?" he
asked; "we must have some if they're asked for." He could not
understand that for a first start effect is everything. If customers
should want Kolinski Boas, Kolinski Boas would of course be
forthcoming,—to any number required; either Kolinski Boas, or quasi
Kolinski, which in trade is admitted to be the same thing. When a man
advertises that he has 40,000 new paletots, he does not mean that he
has got that number packed up in a box. If required to do so, he will
supply them to that extent,—or to any further extent. A long row of
figures in trade is but an elegant use of the superlative. If a
tradesman can induce a lady to buy a diagonal Osnabruck cashmere
shawl by telling her that he has 1,200 of them, who is injured? And
if the shawl is not exactly a real diagonal Osnabruck cashmere, what
harm is done as long as the lady gets the value for her money? And if
she don't get the value for her money, whose fault is that? Isn't it
a fair stand-up fight? And when she tries to buy for 4<i>l.</i>, a shawl
which she thinks is worth about 8<i>l.</i>, isn't she dealing on the same
principles herself? If she be lucky enough to possess credit, the
shawl is sent home without payment, and three years afterwards fifty
per cent. is perhaps offered for settlement of the bill. It is a fair
fight, and the ladies are very well able to take care of themselves.</p>
<p>And Jones also thought they must have something to sell. "Money is
money," said he, "and goods is goods. What's the use of windows if we
haven't anything to dress them? And what's the use of capital unless
we buy a stock?"</p>
<p>With Mr. Jones, George Robinson never cared to argue. The absolute
impossibility of pouring the slightest ray of commercial light into
the dim chaos of that murky mind had long since come home to him. He
merely shook his head, and went on with the composition on which he
was engaged. It need hardly be explained here that he had no idea of
encountering the public throng on their opening day, without an
adequate assortment of goods. Of course there must be shawls and
cloaks; of course there must be muffs and boas; of course there must
be hose and handkerchiefs. That dressing of the windows was to be the
special care of Mr. Jones, and Robinson would take care that there
should be the wherewithal. The dressing of the windows, and the
parading of the shop, was to be the work of Jones. His ambition had
never soared above that, and while serving in the house on Snow Hill,
his utmost envy had been excited by the youthful aspirant who there
walked the boards, and with an oily courtesy handed chairs to the
ladies. For one short week he had been allowed to enter this
Paradise. "And though I looked so sweet on them," said he, "I always
had my eye on them. It's a grand thing to be down on a well-dressed
woman as she's hiding a roll of ribbon under her cloak." That was his
idea of grandeur!</p>
<p>A stock of goods was of course necessary, but if the firm could only
get their name sufficiently established, that matter would be
arranged simply by written orders to two or three wholesale houses.
Competition, that beautiful science of the present day, by which
every plodding cart-horse is converted into a racer, makes this easy
enough. When it should once become known that a firm was opening
itself on a great scale in a good thoroughfare, and advertising on
real, intelligible principles, there would be no lack of goods.</p>
<p>"You can have any amount of hose you want, out of Cannon Street,"
said Mr. Robinson, "in forty-five minutes. They can be brought in at
the back while you are selling them over the counter."</p>
<p>"Can they?" said Mr. Brown: "perhaps they can. But nevertheless,
George, I think I'll buy a few. It'll be an ease to my mind."</p>
<p>He did so; but it was a suicidal act on his part. One thing was quite
clear, even to Mr. Jones. If the firm commenced business to the
extent which they contemplated, it was out of the question that they
should do everything on the ready-money principle. That such a
principle is antiquated, absurd, and uncommercial; that it is opposed
to the whole system of trade as now adopted in this metropolis, has
been clearly shown in the preface to these memoirs. But in this
instance, in the case of Brown, Jones, and Robinson, the doing so was
as impracticable as it would have been foolish, if practicable.
Credit and credit only was required. But of all modes of
extinguishing credit, of crushing, as it were, the young baby in its
cradle, there is none equal to that of spending a little ready money,
and then halting. In trade as in love, to doubt,—or rather, to seem
to doubt,—is to be lost. When you order goods, do so as though the
bank were at your back. Look your victim full in the face, and write
down your long numbers without a falter in your pen. And should there
seem a hesitation on his part, do not affect to understand it. When
the articles are secured, you give your bill at six months' date;
then your credit at your bankers,—your discount system,—commences.
That is another affair. When once your bank begins that with
you,—and the banks must do so, or they may put up their
shutters,—when once your bank has commenced, it must carry on the
game. You are floated then, placed well in the centre of the full
stream of commerce, and it must be your own fault if you do not
either retire with half a million, or become bankrupt with an éclat,
which is worth more than any capital in refitting you for a further
attempt. In the meantime it need hardly be said that you yourself are
living on the very fat of the land.</p>
<p>But birds of a feather should flock together, and Mr. Brown and Mr.
Robinson were not exactly of the same plumage.</p>
<p>It was finally arranged that Mr. Robinson should have carte blanche
at his own particular line of business, to the extent of fifteen
hundred pounds, and that Mr. Brown should go into the warehouse and
lay out a similar sum in goods. Both Jones and Mrs. Jones accompanied
the old man, and a sore time he had of it. It may here be remarked
that Mrs. Jones struggled very hard to get a footing in the shop, but
on this point it should be acknowledged that her husband did his duty
for a while.</p>
<p>"It must be you or I, Sarah Jane," said he; "but not both."</p>
<p>"I have no objection in life," said she; "you can stay at home, if
you please."</p>
<p>"By no means," he replied. "If you come here, and your father permits
it, I shall go to America. Of course the firm will allow me for my
share." She tried it on very often after that, and gave the firm much
trouble, but I don't think she got her hand into the cash drawer
above once or twice during the first twelve months.</p>
<p>The division of labour was finally arranged as follows. Mr. Brown was
to order the goods; to hire the young men and women, look after their
morality, and pay them their wages; to listen to any special
applications when a desire might be expressed to see the firm; and to
do the heavy respectable parental business. There was a little back
room with a sky-light, in which he was to sit; and when he was
properly got up, his manner of shaking his head at the young people
who misbehaved themselves, was not ineffective. There is always
danger when young men and women are employed together in the same
shop, and if possible this should be avoided. It is not in human
nature that they should not fall in love, or at any rate amuse
themselves with ordinary flirtations. Now the rule is that not a word
shall be spoken that does not refer to business. "Miss O'Brien, where
is the salmon-coloured sarsenet? or, Mr. Green, I'll trouble you for
the ladies' sevens." Nothing is ever spoken beyond that. "Morals,
morals, above everything!" Mr. Brown was once heard to shout from his
little room, when a whisper had been going round the shop as to a
concerted visit to the Crystal Palace. Why a visit to the Crystal
Palace should be immoral, when talked of over the counter, Mr. Brown
did not explain on that occasion.</p>
<p>"A very nice set of young women," the compiler of these memoirs once
remarked to a commercial gentleman in a large way, who was showing
him over his business, "and for the most part very good-looking."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir, yes; we attend to their morals especially. They generally
marry from us, and become the happy mothers of families."</p>
<p>"Ah," said I, really delighted in my innocence. "They've excellent
opportunities for that, because there are so many decent young men
about."</p>
<p>He turned on me as though I had calumniated his establishment with a
libel of the vilest description. "If a whisper of such a thing ever
reaches us, sir," said he, quite alive with virtuous indignation; "if
such a suspicion is ever engendered, we send them packing at once!
The morals of our young women, <span class="nowrap">sir—"</span>
And then he finished his
sentence simply by a shake of his head. I tried to bring him into an
argument, and endeavoured to make him understand that no young woman
can become a happy wife unless she first be allowed to have a lover.
He merely shook his head, and at last stamped his foot. "Morals,
sir!" he repeated. "Morals above everything. In such an establishment
as this, if we are not moral, we are nothing." I supposed he was
right, but it seemed to me to be very hard on the young men and
women. I could only hope that they walked home together in the
evening.</p>
<p>In the new firm in Bishopsgate Street, Mr. Brown, of course, took
upon himself that branch of business, and some little trouble he had,
because his own son-in-law and partner would make eyes to the
customers.</p>
<p>"Mr. Jones," he once said before them all; "you'll bring down my gray
hairs with sorrow to the grave; you will, indeed." And then he put up
his fat hand, and gently stroked the white expanse of his bald pate.
But that was a very memorable occasion.</p>
<p>Such was Mr. Brown's business. To Mr. Jones was allocated the duty of
seeing that the shop was duly dressed, of looking after the
customers, including that special duty of guarding against
shop-lifting, and of attending generally to the retail business. It
cannot be denied that for this sort of work he had some specialties.
His eye was sharp, and his ear was keen, and his feelings were blunt.
In a certain way, he was good-looking, and he knew how to hand a
chair with a bow and smile, which went far with the wives and
daughters of the East End little tradesmen,—and he was active enough
at his work. He was usually to be seen standing in the front of the
shop, about six yards within the door, rubbing his hands together, or
arranging his locks, or twiddling with his brass watch-chain. Nothing
disconcerted him, unless his wife walked into the place; and then, to
the great delight of the young men and women, he was unable to
conceal his misery. By them he was hated,—as was perhaps necessary
in his position. He was a tyrant, who liked to feel at every moment
the relish of his power. To the poor girls he was cruel, treating
them as though they were dirt beneath his feet. For Mr. Jones, though
he affected the reputation of an admirer of the fair sex, never
forgot himself by being even civil to a female who was his paid
servant. Woman's smile had a charm for him, but no charm equal to the
servility of dependence.</p>
<p>But on the shoulders of Mr. Robinson fell the great burden of the
business. There was a question as to the accounts; these, however, he
undertook to keep in his leisure moments, thinking but little of the
task. But the work of his life was to be the advertising department.
He was to draw up the posters; he was to write those little books
which, printed on magenta-coloured paper, were to be thrown with
reckless prodigality into every vehicle in the town; he was to
arrange new methods of alluring the public into that emporium of
fashion. It was for him to make a credulous multitude believe that at
that shop, number Nine Times Nine in Bishopsgate Street, goods of all
sorts were to be purchased at prices considerably less than the
original cost of their manufacture. This he undertook to do; this for
a time he did do; this for years to come he would have done, had he
not experienced an interference in his own department, by which the
whole firm was ultimately ruined and sent adrift.</p>
<p>"The great thing is to get our bills into the hands of the public,"
said Robinson.</p>
<p>"You can get men for one and nine a day to stand still and hand 'em
out to the passers-by," said Mr. Brown.</p>
<p>"That's stale, sir, quite stale; novelty in advertising is what we
require;—something new and startling."</p>
<p>"Put a chimney-pot on the man's head," said Mr. Brown, "and make it
two and three."</p>
<p>"That's been tried," said Robinson.</p>
<p>"Then put two chimney-pots," said Mr. Brown. Beyond that his
imagination did not carry him.</p>
<p>Chimney-pots and lanterns on men's heads avail nothing. To startle
men and women to any purpose, and drive them into Bishopsgate Street,
you must startle them a great deal. It does not suffice to create a
momentary wonder. Mr. Robinson, therefore, began with eight footmen
in full livery, with powdered hair and gold tags to their shoulders.
They had magenta-coloured plush knee-breeches, and magenta-coloured
silk stockings. It was in May, and the weather was fine, and these
eight excellently got-up London footmen were stationed at different
points in the city, each with a silken bag suspended round his
shoulder by a silken cord. From these bags they drew forth the
advertising cards of the house, and presented them to such of the
passers-by as appeared from their dress and physiognomy to be
available for the purpose. The fact has now been ascertained that men
and women who have money to spend will not put out their hands to
accept common bills from street advertisers. In an ordinary way the
money so spent is thrown away. But from these men, arrayed in
gorgeous livery, a duchess would have stayed her steps to accept a
card. And duchesses did stay their steps, and cards from the young
firm of Brown, Jones, and Robinson were, as the firm was credibly
informed, placed beneath the eyes of a very illustrious personage
indeed.</p>
<p>The nature of the card was this. It was folded into three, and when
so folded, was of the size of an ordinary playing card. On the
outside, which bore a satin glaze with a magenta tint, there was a
blank space as though for an address, and the compliments of the firm
in the corner; when opened there was a separate note inside, in which
the public were informed in very few words, that "Messrs. Brown,
Jones, and Robinson were prepared to open their house on the 15th of
May, intending to carry on their trade on principles of commerce
perfectly new, and hitherto untried. The present rate of money in the
city was five per cent., and it would be the practice of the firm to
charge five and a half per cent. on every article sold by them. The
very quick return which this would give them, would enable B. J. and
R. to realize princely fortunes, and at the same time to place within
the reach of the public goods of the very best description at prices
much below any that had ever yet been quoted." This also was printed
on magenta-coloured paper, and "nine times nine is eighty-one" was
inserted both at the top and the bottom.</p>
<p>On the inside of the card, on the three folds, were printed lists of
the goods offered to the public. The three headings were "cloaks and
shawls," "furs and velvets," "silks and satins;" and in a small note
at the bottom it was stated that the stock of hosiery, handkerchiefs,
ribbons, and gloves, was sufficient to meet any demand which the
metropolis could make upon the firm.</p>
<p>When that list was first read out in conclave to the partners, Mr.
Brown begged almost with tears in his eyes, that it might be
modified. "George," said he, "we shall be exposed."</p>
<p>"I hope we shall," said Robinson. "Exposition is all that we desire."</p>
<p>"Eight thousand African monkey muffs! Oh, George, you must leave out
the monkey muffs."</p>
<p>"By no means, Mr. Brown."</p>
<p>"Or bring them down to a few hundreds. Two hundred African monkey
muffs would really be a great many."</p>
<p>"Mr. Brown," said Robinson on that occasion;—and it may be doubted
whether he ever again spoke to the senior partner of his firm in
terms so imperious and decisive; "Mr. Brown, to you has been allotted
your share in our work, and when you insisted on throwing away our
ready money on those cheap Manchester prints, I never said a word. It
lay in your department to do so. The composition of this card lies in
mine, and I mean to exercise my own judgment." And then he went on,
"Eight thousand real African monkey muffs; six thousand ditto, ditto,
ditto, very superior, with long fine hair." Mr. Brown merely groaned,
but he said nothing further.</p>
<p>"Couldn't you say that they are such as are worn by the Princess
Alice?" suggested Jones.</p>
<p>"No, I could not," answered Robinson. "You may tell them that in the
shop if you please. That will lie in your department."</p>
<p>In this way was the first card of the firm drawn out, and in the
space of a fortnight, nineteen thousand of them were disseminated
through the metropolis. When it is declared that each of those cards
cost B. J. and R. threepence three farthings, some idea may be formed
of the style in which they commenced their operations.</p>
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