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THE BUSINESS MAN. ——— BY EDGAR A. POE. ———  MY name is Pendulum — Peter
Pendulum. I am
a
business man. I am
a
methodical man. Method is the thing, after all. But there are
no people
I more heartily despise than your eccentric fools who prate about
method
without understanding it; attending strictly to its letter, and
violating
its spirit. These fellows are always doing the most out-of-the-way
things
in what they call an orderly manner. Now here — I conceive — is a
positive
paradox. True method appertains to the ordinary and the obvious alone,
and cannot be applied to the outré. What definite idea
can a body
attach
to such expressions as "methodical Jack o' Dandy," or "a systematical
Will
o' the Wisp?"My notions upon this head might not
have been so
clear as they are, nor should I have been so well to do in the world as
I am, but for a fortunate accident which happened to me
when
I was a very little boy. A good-hearted old Irish nurse (whom I shall
not
forget in my will) took me up one day by the heels, when I was making
more
noise than was necessary, and, swinging me round two or three times,
d——d
my eyes for "a skreeking little spalpeen," and then knocked my head
into
a cocked hat against the bed-post. This, I say, decided my fate, and
made
my fortune. A mendacous bump got up at once on my sinciput, and turned
out to be
as
pretty an organ of order as one shall see on a summer's day.
Hence
that positive appetite for system and regularity
which has made me the
distinguished man of business that I am.If there is any thing on earth
I
hate, it is a
genius.
Your geniuses are all arrant asses — the greater the genius the
greater
the ass — and to this rule there is no exception whatever. Especially,
you cannot make a man of business out of a genius, any more than money
out of a Jew, or the best nutmegs out of pine-knots. The creatures are
always going off at a tangent into some fantastic employment, or
ridiculous
speculation, entirely at variance with the "fitness of things," and
having
no business whatever to be considered as a business at all. Thus you
may
tell these characters immediately by the nature of their occupations.
If
you ever perceive a man setting up as a merchant, or a manufacturer; or
going into the cotton or tobacco trade, or any of those eccentric
pursuits;
or getting to be a dry-goods dealer, or soap-boiler, or something of
that
kind; or pretending to be a lawyer, or a blacksmith, or a physician —
any thing out of the usual way — if ever, in short, you see a conceited
fellow running heels-over-head into the patent-blacking, or
linen-draping, or dog-meat line, you may set him down at once as a
genius,
and then, according to the rule-of-three, he's an ass. Now my name is Peter Pendulum, and I am not in any respect
a genius,
but a
regular
business man. My Day-book and Ledger would evince this in a minute.
They
are well kept, though I say it myself; and in my general habits of
accuracy
and punctuality, I am not to be beat by a clock. — Moreover, my
occupations
have been always made to chime in with the ordinary habitudes of my
fellow men.
Not that I feel the least indebted, upon this score, to my exceedingly
weak-minded parents, who, beyond doubt, would have made an arrant
genius
of me at last, if my guardian angel had not come, in good time, to the
rescue. In biography the truth is every thing, and in auto-biography it
is especially so — yet I scarcely hope to be believed when I state,
however
solemnly, that my poor father put me, when I was about fifteen years of
age, into the counting-house of what he ridiculously termed "a
respectable hardware
and commission merchant, doing a capital bit of business!" A capital
bit
of fiddlestick! However, the consequence of this folly was, that, in
two
or three days, I had to be sent home to my button-headed family in a
high
state of fever, and with a most violent and dangerous pain in the
sinciput,
all round about my organ of order. It was nearly a gone case with me
then — just touch-and-go for six weeks — the physicians giving me up,
and
all
that sort of thing. But, although I suffered much, I was a thankful boy
in the main. I was saved from being a "respectable hardware and
commission
merchant, doing a capital bit of business," and I felt grateful to the
protuberance which had been the means of my salvation, as well as to
the
kind-hearted Irish female who had originally put these means within my
reach.
I shall remember that fine old nurse in my will.The most of boys run away from home
at ten or
twelve
years of age, but I waited till I was sixteen. I don't know that I
should
have even gone, just then, if I had not happened to hear old Mrs.
Pendulum
talking
about
setting me up on my own hook in the grocery way. The grocery
way! —
only
think of that! I resolved to be off forthwith, and
try and establish
myself
in some decent occupation, without dancing attendance any
longer upon
the
caprices of these eccentric old people, and running the risk of being
made
a genius of in the end. In this project I succeeded perfectly [page
88:] well at
the
first effort, and, by the time I was fairly eighteen, found myself
doing
an extensive and profitable business in the Tailors'
Walking Advertisement
line. I was enabled to discharge the
onerous duties of
this profession only by that rigid adherence to system which formed
the
leading feature of my mind. A scrupulous method characterized
my
actions,
as well as my accounts. In my case, it was method — not money — which
made the man; at least all of him that was not made by the tailor whom
I served. At nine, every morning, I called upon that individual for the
clothes of the day. Ten o'clock found me in some fashionable promenade,
or other place of public amusement. The precise regularity with which I
turned my handsome person about, so as to bring successively into view
every portion of the suit upon my back, was the admiration of all the
knowing
men in the trade. Noon never passed without my bringing home a customer
to the house of my employers, Messieurs Cut and Comeagain. I say this
proudly,
but with tears in my eyes — for the firm proved themselves the basest
of ingrates. The little account about which we quarrelled and finally
parted,
cannot, in any item, be thought overcharged, by gentlemen really
conversant
with the nature of the business. Upon this point, however, I feel a
degree
of proud satisfaction in permitting the reader to judge for himself. My
bill ran thus:Messieurs Cut and Comeagain, Merchant Tailors, To Peter Pendulum, Walking Advertisement, DRS.
The item chiefly disputed in this bill was the very
moderate charge of two pennies for the dickey. Upon my word of honor,
this was not an unreasonable price for that dickey. It
was one of the
cleanest
and prettiest little dickeys I ever saw; and I have good reason to
believe
that it effected the sale of three Petershams. The elder partner of the
firm, however, would allow me only one penny of the charge, and took it
upon himself to show in what manner four of the same sized conveniences
could be got out of a sheet of foolscap. But it is needless to say that
I stood upon the principle of the thing. Business is business,
and
should
be done in a business way. There was no system whatever in
swindling me
out of a penny — a clear fraud of fifty per cent. — no method
in
any
respect.
My organ of order revolted. So, thanks to that kind old Irish lady,
(whom I shall be sure to remember in my will,) I left, at once, the
employment of Messieurs Cut and Comeagain, and set
up
in the Eye-Sore line by myself — one of the most lucrative,
respectable,
and independent of the ordinary occupations. My strict integrity, economy, and
rigorous
business
habits, here again came into play. I found myself driving a flourishing
trade, and soon became a marked man upon 'Change.[[']]
The truth is, I
never
dabbled in flashy matters, but jogged on in the good old
sober routine
of the calling — a calling in which I should no doubt have remained
to the present hour, but for a little accident which happened to me in
the prosecution of one of the usual business operations of the
profession.
Whenever a rich old hunks, or prodigal heir, or bankrupt corporation,
gets
into the notion of putting up a palace, there is no such thing in the
world
as stopping either of them, and this every intelligent person knows.
The
fact in question is indeed the basis of the Eye-Sore trade. As soon,
therefore,
as a building project is fairly afoot by one of these parties, we
merchants
secure a nice corner of the lot in contemplation, or a prime little
situation
just adjoining, or tight in front. This done, we wait until the palace
is half-way up, and then we pay some tasty architect to run us up an
ornamental
mud hovel, right against it, or a Down-East or Dutch Pagoda, or an
ingenious little bit of fancy work, either Esquimau, Kickapoo, or
Hottentot. Of course, we can't afford to take these structures down
under
a bonus of five hundred per cent. upon the prime cost of our lot and
plaster. Can we? I ask the question. I ask it of business
men. It would be
irrational
to suppose that we can. And yet there was a rascally corporation which
asked me to do this very thing — this very thing! I did not
reply to
their
absurd proposition, of course; but I felt it a duty to go that same
night
and lamp-black the whole of their palace. For this, the unreasonable
villains
clapped me in jail; and the gentlemen of the
Eye-Sore trade could not
well avoid cutting my connexion when I came out. [page 89:]The Assault and Battery business,
into which I
was
now forced to adventure for a livelihood, was somewhat illy adapted to
the
delicate nature of my constitution; but I went to work in it with a
good
heart, and found my account, here as heretofore, in those stern habits
of methodical accuracy which had been thumped into me by that
delightful
old nurse — I would indeed be the basest of men not to remember her
well
in my will. By observing, as I say, the strictest system in all my
dealings,
and keeping a well-regulated set of books, I was enabled to get over
many
serious difficulties, and, in the end, to establish myself very
decently
in the profession. The truth is, that few individuals in any line did
a snugger little business than I. I will just copy a
page or so out of
my Day-Book; and this will save me the necessity of blowing my own
trumpet — a contemptible practice, of which no high-minded man will be
guilty.
Now, the Day-Book is a thing that don't lie. "Jan. 1. — New Year's Day. Met Snap in the street,
groggy. Mem —
he'll
do. Met Gruff shortly afterwards, blind drunk. Mem — he'll answer, too.
Entered both gentlemen in my Ledger, and opened a running account with
each. "Jan. 2. — Saw Snap at the Exchange, and went up and
trod on his
toe.
Doubled his fist, and knocked me down. Good! — got up again. Some
trifling
difficulty with Bag, my attorney. I want the damages at a thousand, but
he says that for so simple a knock-down we can't lay them at more
than
five hundred. Mem — must get rid of Bag — no system at all. "Jan. 3. — Went to the theatre, to look for Gruff.
Saw
him sitting
in
a side box, in the second tier, between a fat lady and a lean one.
Quizzed
the whole set through an opera-glass till I saw the fat lady blush
and
whisper to G. Went round then into the box, and put my nose within
reach
of his hand. Wouldn't pull it — no go. Wiped it, and tried again — no
go. Sat down then, and winked at the lean lady, when I had the high
satisfaction
of finding him lift me up by the nape of the neck, and fling me over
into
the pit. Neck dislocated, and right leg capitally splintered. Went
home
in high glee, drank a bottle of champagne, and
booked the young man for
five thousand. Bag says it'll do. "Feb. 15. — Compromised the case of Mr. Snap. Amount
entered in
Journal — fifty cents — which see. "Feb. 16. — Cast by that villain Gruff, who made me a
present of
five
dollars. Costs of suit, four dollars and twenty-five cents. Nett
profit — see Journal — seventy-five cents."Now, here is a clear gain,
in a very
brief
period,
of no less than one dollar and twenty-five cents — this in the mere
cases of Snap and Gruff; and I solemnly assure the reader that these
extracts
are taken at random from my Day-Book. It's an old saying, and a true one,
however, that
money is nothing in comparison with health. I found the exactions of
the
profession somewhat too much for my delicate state of body; and,
discovering
at last that I was knocked out of all shape, so that I didn't know
very
well what to make of the matter, and my friends, when they met
me in the street, could'nt tell that I was Peter Pendulum at all, it
occurred
to me that the best expedient I could adopt was to alter my line of
business.
I am now, therefore, in the Mud-Dabbling way, and have been so for
some years. The worst of this occupation is that
too many
people
take a fancy to it, and the competition, is in consequence, excessive.
Every
ignoramus of a fellow who finds that he hasn't brains in sufficient
quantity
to make his way as a walking-advertiser, or an eye-sore prig, or a
salt and batter
man, thinks, of course, that he'll answer very well as a dabbler of
mud.
But there never was entertained a more erroneous idea than that it
requires
no brains to mud-dabble. Especially, there is nothing to be made in
this
way without method. I do only a retail business myself, but my
old
habits
of system carry me swimmingly along. I selected my
street-crossing,
in
the first place, with great deliberation, and I never put down a broom
in any part of the town but that. I took care, too, to have a
nice
little
puddle at hand, which I could get at in a minute. By these means I have
now got
to be well known as a man to be trusted; and this is one-half the
battle,
let me tell you, in trade. Nobody ever fails to pitch me a
copper, and
gets over my crossing with a clean pair of pantaloons. And, as
my
business
habits, in this respect, are sufficiently understood, I never meet with
any attempt at imposition. I wouldn't put up with it, if I did.
Never
imposing upon any one myself, I suffer no one to play the possum with
me. The frauds of the banks of course I can't, of course, help. Their
infamous suspension
has put me to ruinous inconvenience. These, however, are not
individuals,
but
corporations; and corporations, it is very well known, have neither
posteriors
to be kicked, nor souls to be damned. |
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