Edward Baines, who became M.P. for Leeds, and the proprietor of one of the most valuable newspaper properties in the kingdom, the Leeds Mercury, set off to make his fortune in 1793. His son writes:—“There was at that time no public conveyance on the direct route from Preston to Leeds, and the journey by coach, through Manchester, would have occupied two days. The frugal apprentice, stout of heart and limb, performed the journey on foot, with his bundle on his arm. A friend accompanied him to Clithero; but he crossed the hill into Yorkshire with no companion but his staff, and all his worldly wealth in his pocket. Wayworn he entered the town of Leeds, and, finding the shop of Messrs. Binns and Brown, he inquired if they had room for an apprentice to finish his time. The stranger was carelessly referred to the foreman; and, as he entered the Mercury office, he internally resolved that, if he should obtain admission there, he would never leave it.” And he kept his word. A man does what he wills. To succeed in life—to be even a rich man or an M.P.—is mainly the result of the effort of the indomitable will of a resolute and persevering man.

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Mr. Baines succeeded because his maxim was, that what was worth doing, was worth doing well. “He laid the foundations of future success,” writes his son, “as a master, in the thorough knowledge and performance of the duties of a workman. Whilst still receiving weekly wages, he practised a prudent economy. He was anxious to improve his condition, and he took the only effectual means to do it by saving as much as he could of the fruits of his industry. His tastes were simple, his habits strictly temperate, and his companionships p. 149virtuous. Always maintaining respectability of appearance, he was superior to personal display. He lodged with a worthy family; but on a scale of expense suited to his circumstances.” An early marriage seems to have increased his business energy. “At five o’clock in the morning, and, when occasion required, at four or three, was the young printer out of bed; and whatever neighbour rose early was sure to find him in his office. He was above no kind of work that belonged to his trade. He not only directed others, but worked himself at case and press. He kept his own books, and they still remain to attest the regularity and neatness with which he kept them, though he had no training in that department. Not a penny went or came but had its record, either in his office or his domestic account-books. In consequence, he always knew the exact position of his affairs. His customers and friends steadily increased; for it was found that he was to be depended upon for whatever he undertook. With a spirit that stooped to no meanness, but with a nature that cheerfully yielded all respect and courtesy; with a temper as steady as it was sanguine and happy; with constant prudence and unfailing attention to duty, he won the confidence of every one that knew him. His punctuality and method were exemplary; he conducted his business, in all respects, in the best way. He not only took any employment for his press, however humble, that came, but he devised and suggested publications, and joined others in executing them. But,” adds the son, “it was necessary that energy in business should be seconded by economy at home. He began by laying down the rule that he would not spend more than half his income; and he acted upon it. Great was his resolution, and many the contrivances to carry out his purpose; but husband and wife being of the same mind, assiduous and equally prudent, the thing was done. For some time they kept but one servant. A main secret of his frugality was, that he created no artificial wants. He always drank water. He never smoked, justly thinking it a waste of time and money to gratify a taste which does not exist naturally, but has to be formed. He took no snuff. Neither tavern nor theatre saw his face. The circle of his visiting acquaintance was small and select. Yet he was not an earth-worm. He took an active part in the Benevolent or Strangers’ Friend Society, and was a man of public spirit. The pure joys of domestic p. 150life, the pleasures of industry, and the satisfaction of doing good, combined to make him as happy as he was useful.”

Thus it will be seen that the foundation of Mr. Baines’s success in life, and of his eminent usefulness, was laid in those homely virtues which are too often despised by the young and ardent, but which are of incomparably greater value than the most shining qualities—in integrity, industry, perseverance, prudence, frugality, temperance, self-denial, and courtesy. The young man who would use his harvest must plough with his heifer.

If there is a passage in all his life of which his descendants are and ought to be most proud, it is that lowly commencement, when virtuous habits were formed; when the temptations of youth were resisted; when life-long friendships were won; when domestic life began in love, and piety, and prudence; when a venerable neighbour, Mr. Abraham Dickinson, used to remark, “Those young people are sure to get on, they are so industrious;” and when the same good man said to a young friend at his elbow—“C—, thou seest an example in thy neighbour Edward.”

“All’s well that ends well,” says the proverb. It is true; yet it is also of immense importance to begin well. Mr. Baines, some years since, was watching an apprentice, whose habits were not steady, fold up a newspaper. At the first fold there was a wrinkle, and at every succeeding fold the wrinkle grew worse, and more unmanageable. Mr. Baines said significantly to the lad—“Jim, its a bad thing to begin wrongly.” The poor fellow found it so; for he soon fell a victim to his vices. His master had begun right, and every succeeding fold in life was easy and straight. The lesson is worth remembering.

Another illustration of money-making is to be found in the case of William James Chaplin, a native of Rochester, in Kent, whose history affords a remarkable example of the way in which a man rises from the humblest ranks, by talent and energy, to a place amongst the most influential and wealthy men of the day. Before railways were in operation, Mr. Chaplin had succeeded in becoming one of the largest coach proprietors in the kingdom. His establishment grew from small beginnings, until, just before the opening of the London and North-Western Railway, he was proprietor of sixty-four stage-coaches, worked by 1,500 horses, and returning p. 151yearly more than a million sterling. A man who could build up such a business was not likely to let it sink under him; and, accordingly, we find that he moved his large capital from four-horse coaches into railway shares, and entered largely in foreign railways, especially in France and Holland. His greatest stake, however, was invested in the London and South-Western, of which he became director, and afterwards chairman. In 1845, he was Sheriff of London, when he took some pains to promote prison reform; and, in 1847, was elected M.P. for Salisbury, as a supporter of free trade and the ballot. He was also a deputy-lieutenant of the county of Hants.

In 1825, a country lad arrived in London on the day before Good Friday. As he was born in 1806, he was about twenty years of age. He had served his apprenticeship with a linendraper at Wigton, where his master did not prosper, and the young man determined to come to London in search of a fortune. It was a wearisome ride then from Carlisle to London, and took the coaches at least a couple of days; but it is a long journey that has no end to it. In due time the coach reached the “Swan with Two Necks,” in Lad Lane, Wood Street, and, after paying the coachman, the young man from the country took up his residence at the “Magpie and Platter.” As may be supposed, he felt rather lonely, and did not know what to do with himself. He was too much fatigued, besides, to look after a situation; so on Good Friday, as he knew the Cumberland men held their annual wrestling match on that day, he made his way to Chelsea to observe the sports. When he arrived there he found a young Quaker friend from Torpenbow, who had won the belt at Keswick a few years before. The new-comer, inspired by the event, entered his name as a wrestler. He was described by some, who were present on the occasion, “as very strong-looking, middle-sized, with a broad chest, and strongly-developed muscles;” his hair was dark and curly, and almost black; his eyes were brown, and glowed under excitement to a deeper brown; his face was redolent of health. The new-comer “peeled” and stepped into the ring. The first man he came against was a little bigger than himself; but he threw him so cleverly, that the questions were asked on every side—“Who’s that?” “Where does he come from?” “What’s his name?” His name was soon known; and as he wrestled again, and threw his man, he was hailed with cries of, “Weel done.” Again he succeeded; and though p. 156beaten at length by a noted champion wrestler from Cumberland, the young man from the country was hailed as the winner of the third prize. His name was George Moore, and it was thus he made his débût in London in the year 1825. It is needless to say that he was recognised by his countrymen, and treated to drink. It was the wish that he should have another wrestling bout, and wagers were made on the subject; but to the credit of George Moore it must be stated, that when he saw some of the lads around him were taking more drink than was good for them, he made up his mind not to wrestle in the proposed match, and left his admirers indignant at his decision.

Tips, opportunities to make money:money man 17
On his return, Moore learned that the inn—indeed, the very bed in which he had slept—had become notorious; for Thurtell, the well-known murderer, had been taken from it by the police some time before. Moore was horror-struck, and determined to seek fresh lodgings. He was fortunate in finding very suitable ones in Wood Street, and thence he set out to find a situation. It was hard work the search. People laughed at his north-country accent, and rustic air and clothes. In one day he entered as many as thirty linendrapers’ shops. “The keenest cut of all I got,” Moore used to say, “was from Mr. Charles Meeking, of Holborn. He asked me if I wanted a porter’s situation. This almost broke my heart.” Fortunately, Mr. Ray, of Flint, Ray, and Co., had heard of the arrival of the Cumberland lad; indeed, he had been looking out for him, and he offered Moore £30 a-year, which the latter gratefully accepted. At that time Moore gave no promise of being worth much more. His first appearance is thus described:—“On incidentally looking over to the haberdashery counter, I saw an uncouth, thick-set country lad, standing crying. In a minute or two a large deal chest, such as the Scotch servant-lasses use for their clothes, was brought in by a man and set down on the floor. After the lad had dried up his tears, the box was carried up-stairs to the bedroom where he was to sleep. After he had come down-stairs he began working, and he continued to be the hardest worker in the house until he left.”

The Moore family were not penniless. George Moore was not one of the men who came to London with half-a-crown, and with that half-a-crown swell out into Rothschilds. His father was a man of ancient descent, though of moderate p. 157means, and was one of the old Cumberland statesmen—a race of landed proprietors unfortunately fast vanishing away. His godfather left him a legacy of £100, and a hair-trunk studded with nails. His mother, who was a statesman’s daughter, died when he was six years old. At eight the boy was sent to school. The master was drunken and brutal, and naturally the school was unattractive. Under a new master, however, the lad did better. When twelve, his father sent him to a finishing school at Blennerhasset, and he remained there for a quarter, at an expense of eight shillings. “The master,” he adds, “was a good writer, and a superior man—indeed, a sort of genius. For the first time I felt that there was some use in learning, and then I began to feel how ignorant I was. However, I never swerved from my resolve to go away from home. I had no tastes in common with my brother. I felt that I could not hang about half idle, with no better prospect before me than of being a farm servant. So I determined that I would leave home at thirteen, and fight the battle of life for myself.” It was while an apprentice that this feeling strengthened and matured. Card-playing had been to him a snare; but he conquered the temptation, and became all the better for the struggle with inclination, which appears to have been sharp and severe.

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But let us return to Moore’s London life. After he had been six months at Grafton House, one day Moore observed a bright little girl come tripping into the warehouse, accompanied by her mother. “Who are they?” he asked. “Why, don’t you know?” was the reply. “That’s the governor’s wife and daughter.” “Well,” said George, “if ever I marry, that girl shall be my wife;” and he kept his word.

In 1826, somewhat disgusted with the retail trade (especially as, owing to a mistake of his own, his integrity had been called in question by one of the customers, a lady of title), Moore entered the house of Fisher, Stroud, and Robinson, Watling Street, then the first lace-house in the City of London. His salary was to be £40 a-year, and he wrote word to his father that he was now a made man. How came this to be so? In the first place, Moore had earned a good character at Grafton House; and, secondly, Mr. Fisher, the head of the lace-house, was a Cumberland man. Provincial ties were stronger half a century back in London than they are now; but be that as it may, Moore had much to learn in p. 158his new place. He was inaccurate—he lacked briskness and promptitude. Mr. Fisher blamed his stupidity; he said he had seen many a stupid blockhead from Cumberland, but that he was the greatest of them all. This censure seems to have done Moore good. He set about educating himself. He was so ashamed of his ignorance, that he actually went into a night-school. It was at Fisher’s that Moore met with Mr. Crampton, afterwards his partner. The latter writes—“We became close companions. His friends were my friends, and so intimate were we, that I seemed to merge into a Cumberland lad. George was very patriotic. All our friends were Cumberlanders; and though I was a Yorkshireman, I was almost induced to feign that I was Cumberland too. I was gayer than he, and he never failed to tell me of my faults. He was a strong, round-shouldered fellow. He was very cheerful and very willing. He worked hard, and seemed to be bent on improvement; but in other respects he did not strike me as anything remarkable. Among the amusements which we attended together were the wrestling matches at St. John’s Wood. The principal match was held on Good Friday. One day we went to the wrestling-field, and George entered his name. The competitors drew lots. George’s antagonist was a Life-Guardsman, over six feet high. I think I see Moore’s smile now as he stood opposite the giant. The giant smiled too. Then they went at it gat hod, and George was soon gently laid on his back. By this time he was out of practice, and I don’t think he ever wrestled again. Besides, he was soon so full of work as to have little time for amusement.”

After this Mr. Moore became traveller to the firm, and excelled, not only in increasing the business of his employers, but in the shortness of time in which he performed his journeys. He used afterwards to remark, that it was the best testing-work for a young man before his promotion to places of greater trust. At the inns which he frequented he was regarded as a sort of hero. To show the energy with which he carried on his business, it may be mentioned that on one occasion he arrived in Manchester, and after unpacking his goods, he called upon his first customer. He was informed that one of his opponents had reached the town the day before, and would remain there for a day or two more. “Then,” said Moore, “it is no use wasting my time with my p. 159competitor before me.” He returned to his hotel, called some of his friends about him to help him repack his stock, drove off to Liverpool, commenced business next day, and secured the greater part of the orders before the arrival of his opponent. It was while travelling in Ireland that Moore met Groucock, then travelling for a rival firm. They had a keen fight for trade, and Moore succeeded in regaining a good deal of it for his own firm. Groucock, convinced of Moore’s value, offered him £500 a-year (he was only getting £150 from Fisher) to travel for his firm. Moore’s reply was, “I will be a servant for no other house than Fisher’s; the only condition on which I will leave him is a partnership.” At length Groucock gave way; and in 1830, at the age of twenty-three, Moore entered as partner in the firm of Groucock, Copestake, and Moore. The firm was originally established in 1825, and their first place of business was over a trunk-shop at No. 7, Cheapside. In 1834, the firm removed to Bow Churchyard. The capital contributed by George Moore was £670, supplied him by his father. His line was to travel for the firm, which he did with increased assiduity. Frequently he was up two nights in the week.

There are many amusing stories told of the way in which Moore got his orders. A draper in a Lancashire town refused to deal with him. The travellers at the hotel bet him five pounds that he could not get an order, and Moore started off. When the draper saw him entering the shop, he cried out, “All full, all full, Mr. Moore; I told you so before!” “Never mind,” said George, “you won’t object to a crack?” “Oh, no,” said the draper. They cracked about many things, and then George Moore, calling the draper’s attention to a new coat which he wore, asked what he thought of it? “It is a capital coat,” said the draper. “Yes; made in the best style, by a first-rate London tailor.” The draper looked at it again, and again admired it. “Why,” said George, “you are exactly my size; it’s quite new; I’ll sell it you.” “What’s the price?” “Twenty-five shillings.” “What? That’s very cheap.” “Yes, it’s a great bargain.” “Then I’ll buy it,” said the draper. George went back to his hotel, donned another suit, and sent the great bargain to the draper. George again calling, the draper offered to pay him. “No,” said George, “I’ll book it; you’ve opened an account.” Mr. Moore had sold the coat at a loss, but he was recouped by the p. 160£5 bet which he won, and he obtained an order besides. The draper afterwards became one of his best customers.

On another occasion, a draper at Newcastle-upon-Tyne was always called upon, many times without a result. He was always full; in fact, he had no intention of opening an account with the new firm. Mr. Moore got to know that he was fond of a particular kind of snuff—rappee, with a touch of beggar’s brown in it. He provided himself with a box in London, and had it filled with the snuff. When at Newcastle he called upon the draper, but was met, as usual, with the remark, “Quite full, quite full, sir.” “Well,” said Mr. Moore, “I scarcely expected an order, but I called upon you for a reference.” “Oh, by all means.” In the course of conversation George took out his snuff-box, took a pinch, and put if in his pocket. After a short interval he took it out again, took another pinch, and said, “I suppose you are not guilty of this bad habit?” “Sometimes,” said the draper. George handed him the box; he took a pinch with zest, and said through the snuff, “Well, that’s very fine.” George had him now. He said, “Let me present you with the box; I have plenty more.” The draper accepted the box; no order was asked, but the next time George called upon him he got his first order. No wonder Moore succeeded; and it was well he did. Times were bad; and it was his opinion, that had he been laid up for three months the firm would have stopped payment. At the end of three years Moore was made equal as a partner with the rest.

In 1840, after one refusal, Moore led his first love to the altar; and in 1841 he partially abandoned travelling; but the change from travelling to office-work at first materially told upon his health. To remedy this he took to fox-hunting, and went to America, partly on business and partly on pleasure. One of the results of his visit to the great republic, was the establishment of a branch of the firm at Nottingham, and the erection of a lace factory in that town. After this he became a director of the Commercial Travellers’ Benevolent Institution, and one of the most ardent supporters of the Cumberland Benevolent Society, and of the Commercial Travellers’ Schools. From the first he was the treasurer of the latter institution. His partners were glad to see him thus employed. They called them his safety-valves. His holidays were spent in Cumberland, a county p. 161for which his love was strong till the last, and to the schools of which he was ever a liberal contributor. Indeed, educational reform in that county may be said to be almost entirely due to him. In 1852, Mr. Moore was nominated by the Lord Mayor of London as Sheriff; but his time was so occupied that he paid the fine of £400 rather than serve. For the same reason, also, he declined to be an alderman, though twice pressed to fill that honourable post. He said, “I once thought that to be Sheriff of London, or Lord Mayor, would have been the height of my ambition; but now I have neither ambition nor the inclination to serve in either office. To men who have not gained a mercantile position, corporation honours are much sought after; but to those who have acquired a prominent place in commerce, such honours are not appreciated. At the same time, I am bound to say that I have always received the most marked courtesy and consideration from the corporation, even although I did not feel inclined to join it.” Dr. Smiles reprints this without note or comment; but surely it betrays a spirit not to be commended. Great city merchants might well be proud to serve in such a corporation as that of London, not as a stepping-stone for themselves, but as an honour of which the proudest may well be proud. As regards parliament, that is another matter. Mr. Moore always refused to be a candidate for parliamentary honours, on the plea that parliament should be composed of the best, wisest, and most highly educated men in the country. In this respect it is to be regretted that a large number of M.P.’s are not of Mr. Moore’s way of thinking. In politics it may be mentioned that Mr. Moore was a Moderate-Liberal, and a strong Free-Trader from the very first. He was an ardent admirer of Lord John Russell, and had much to do with his return for the City in 1857.

In 1854, Mr. Moore removed to his mansion in Kensington Palace Gardens. “Although,” he writes, “I had built the house at the solicitation of Mrs. Moore, I was mortified at my extravagance, and thought it both wicked and aggrandising, mere ostentation and vain show to build such a house. It was long before I felt at home in it, nor did it at all add to our happiness. I felt that I had acted foolishly. But, strange to say, a gentleman offered to take the house off my hands, and to give me 3,000 guineas profit. I made up my mind to accept this offer; but my dear wife had taken p. 162such an interest in the house that we could not decide to sell it.” He accordingly declined the offer. But the house-warming was at any rate characteristic. He determined that the young men and women should be the first guests, and accordingly they were, to the number of 300. A second ball was given to all the porters and their wives, the drivers, and the female servants, to the number of about 200. Afterwards they had, at different times, about 800 of their friends and acquaintances to dinner. But this was abandoned. “Happiness,” wrote Mr. Moore, “does not flow in such a channel. Promiscuous company takes one’s mind away from God and His dealings with men, and there is no lasting pleasure in the excitement.” Mrs. Moore did not long enjoy her new home; she died in 1858. At that time Mr. Moore had become a decidedly religious man. He had a serious illness in 1850, which seems to have had great effect, and more than ever he gave himself up to philanthropic work—such as aiding in the establishment of a Reformatory for Discharged Prisoners, of the Royal Hospital for Incurables, of the London General Porters’ Benevolent Association, and the Warehousemen and Clerks’ School, &c., &c. At Kilburn he said, “If the world only knew half the happiness that a man has in doing good, he would do a great deal more.” George Moore lived under the increasing consciousness of this every year. He wrote in his pocket-book:—

“What I spent I had,

What I saved I lost,

What I gave I have.”