My Old Mother; or Conscience in Trade.
A young man, who at that time was almost an entire stranger to me, called upon me at a late hour in the evening, and after some general conversation, said that he wished to talk with me in reference to a matter which had troubled him for some time. He came to me, as he said, because a few days before he had heard a member of a neighboring church railing against me, and, among other things, saying that I was stern and severe enough for a slave-driver. "So," said he, "I thought you would tell me the truth right out." He was a junior clerk in a dry good's store—a salesman. He had been in that situation for some months. He went into it a raw hand. His employer had taken some pains to instruct him in his duties, and had otherwise treated him in a very kind manner. But he was expected, and, indeed, required to do some things which he "did not know to be quite right." He stated these things to me with minuteness and entire simplicity. He had been taught by his employer to do them as a part of the "necessary skill to be exercised in selling goods." Without which, "no man could be a good salesman or be fit for a merchant." For example, he must learn to judge by the appearance of any woman who entered the shop—by her dress, her manner, her look, the tone of her voice—whether she had much knowledge of the commodity she wished to purchase; and if she had not, he must put the price higher—as high as he thought she could be induced to pay. If there was any objection to the price of an article, he must say, "We have never sold it any cheaper;" or, "We paid that for it, madam, at wholesale;" or, "You cannot buy that quality of goods any lower in the city." With one class of customers, he must always begin by asking a half or third more than the regular price, because, probably, through the ignorance of the customer, he could get it; and if he could not, then he must put it at a lower price, but still above its value, at the same time saying, "That is just what we gave for it;" or, "That is the very lowest at which we can put it to you;" or, "We would not offer it to anybody else so low as that, but we wish to get your custom." In short, a very large portion of the service expected of him was just this sort; and, as I soon told him, it was just a lie for the purpose of cheating. Whenever he hesitated to practice in this manner behind the counter, his employer, ordinarily present, was sure to notice it, and to be dissatisfied with him. He had repeatedly mentioned to his employer his "doubts" whether "this was just right," and "got laughed at." He was told, "Everybody does it,"—"You can't be a merchant without it,"—"All is fair in trade,"—"You are too green." "I know I am green," said the young man to me in a melancholy tone. "I was brought up in an obscure place in the country, and don't know much about the ways of the world. My mother is a poor woman, a widow, who was not able to give me much education; but I don't believe she would think it right for me to do such things." "And do you think it right?" I said. "No,—I don't know—perhaps it may be. Mr. H— [this employer] says there is no sin in it, and he is a member of the church; but I believe it would make my old mother feel very bad if she knew I was doing such things every day." "I venture to say that your mother has got not only more religion, but more common sense, than a thousand like him. He may be a member of the church. The church always has some unworthy members in it, I suppose. But he is not a man fit to direct you. Take your mother's way, and refuse his." "I shall lose my place," said he. "Then lose your place. Don't hesitate a moment." "I engaged for a year, and my year is not out." "No matter. You are ready to fulfil your engagement. But what was your engagement? Did you engage to deceive, to cheat, and lie?" "Then certainly, you need have no hesitation through fear of forfeiting your place. If he sends you away because you will not do such things for him, then you will know him to be a very bad man, from whom you may well be glad to be separated." "He says he will have his business done in the manner he chooses." "Very well. You have no objections to that. Let him do his business in the way he chooses, but he has no right to make you use your tongue in the way he chooses; and if he complains of you because you do not choose to lie for him every hour in the day, just tell him that you have not hired out your conscience to him, and you will not be guilty of committing any crimes for him. Ask him if he expects you to steal for him, if he should happen to want you to do it." "When I told him I thought such things wrong, he said, 'That is my lookout.'" Tell him it is your lookout whether you please God or offend him;—whether you do right or wrong—serve the God of truth or the father of lies." "If I should say that, he would tell me to be off." "Very well, be off, then." "I have no place to go to, and he knows it." "No matter. Go anywhere—do anything—dig potatoes—black boots—sweep the streets for a living, sooner than yield one hour to such temptation." "He says, 'Everybody does so,' and 'No man can ever get along in the way of trade without it.'" "About everybody doing so, I know better. That is not true. Some men are honest and truthful in trade. A man may be honest behind the counter as easily as in the pulpit. But if a man can't be a merchant without these things, then he can't be a merchant, and get to Heaven; and the sooner you quit that business the better. And in respect to his declaration, that 'no man can get along in the way of trade without such practices,' it is false—utterly false! And I wish you to take notice of men now when you are young, as extensively as you can, and see how they come out. You will not have to notice long before you will be convinced of the truth of that homely old maxim, 'Honesty is the best policy.' You will soon see that such men as he are the very men not to 'get along.' He will not 'get along' well a great while, if he does not alter his course." "Oh, he is a keen fellow," said the young man, smiling. "Your employer may indeed prosper here. Such men sometimes do. But the Bible has described him: 'They that will be rich fall into temptation, and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition.' He 'will be rich.' That is what he wants. His will is all that way. And he has fallen into the 'temptation' to lie in order to get rich. And this is a 'snare' to him. It is a trap, and he is caught in it; and if he does not repent and get out of it, he will be 'drowned in destruction and perdition.' But I was going to speak of worldly prosperity. I am no prophet, nor the son of a prophet. I do not believe that God will work any miracles in the case, but I do believe that man will fail. Mark him well, and remember what I say, if you live to notice him ten or twenty years hence. In my opinion you will see him a poor man, and probably a despised man." "What makes you think so?" said he with great astonishment. "Because he is not honest—does not regard the truth. His lying will soon defeat his own purpose. His customers one after another, and especially the best of them, will find him out; and they will forsake him because they cannot trust his word. He will lose more than he will gain by all the falsehoods he utters. I know a dozen men in this city—some merchants, some grocers, some tailors—whom I always avoid, and always will. If I know a man has lied to me once in the way of his business, that ends all my dealings with him. I never go near him afterwards. Such is my practice, and I tell my wife so and my children so. And sometimes—yea, often—I tell them the names of the men. If any of my friends ask me about these men, I tell them the truth, and put them upon their guard. And thus their custom is diminished, because their character becomes known. This is one reason why I think Mr. H— will not prosper. But, whatever the mode may be, his reverses will come. God will make them come." With great depression he replied, "I don't know what I could do if I should lose my place. I don't get but a little more than enough to pay my board (my mother gives me my clothes), and if I lose my situation, I could not pay my board for a month." "Then," said I, "if you get so little you will not lose much by quitting. I do not pretend to know much about it, but in my opinion Mr. H— wrongs you, does you a positive injustice, and a cruel one, by giving you so little. And if you quit, and cannot pay your board till you get something to do, tell me: I will see to that." He never had occasion to tell me. "If I quit my place so soon," said the young man, "it will make my old mother feel very bad. She will think I am getting very unsteady, or that something else is the matter with me. She will be afraid that I am going to ruin." "Not a bit of it," said I. "Tell her just the truth, and you will fill her old heart with joy. She will thank God that she has got such a son, and she will send up to Heaven another prayer for you, which I would rather have than all the gold of Ophir." The young man's eyes filled with tears, and I let him sit in silence for some time. At length he said to me: "I don't think I can stay there; but I don't know what to do; or where to look." "Look to God first, and trust him. Do you think he will let you suffer because, out of regard to his commandments, you have lost your place? Never! Such is not his way. Ask him to guide you." "I am pretty much a stranger here," said he, with a very dejected look. "I know but few people, and I don't know where I could get anything to do." "For that very reason ask God to guide you. Are you accustomed to pray?" "Yes, I have been at times lately. Some months ago I began to try to seek the Lord, after I heard a sermon on that subject, and ever since that time, off and on, I have been trying. But I didn't know what to do in my situation." "Will you answer me one question as truly and fully as you are able?" "Yes, sir, if I think it is right for me to answer it." "The question is, Has not your seriousness, and has not your trying to seek God, sometimes been diminished just when you have had the most temptation to stop, leading you to do what was wrong, even if you did it for another?" He sat in silence, apparently pondering the question for a few moments, and then replied:— "Yes, I believe it has." "'Quench not the Spirit,' then," said I. I then entered into particular conversation with him about his religious feelings, and found that his convictions of sin and his desires for salvation had rendered him for some weeks particularly reluctant to continue in an employment where he felt obliged to practice so much deception. And I thought I could discover no little evidence, in the history he gave me of his religious impressions, that the way of his daily business had been hostile to his attempts to come to repentance. And after I had plainly pointed out to him the demand of the gospel, and explained, as well as I could, the free offers of its grace and salvation, to all which he listened with intense attention and solemnity, he asked:— "What would you advise me to do about my business?" "Just this: go back to your shop, and do all your duties most faithfully and punctually, without lying. If your employer finds fault with you, explain to him, mildly and respectfully, that you are willing to do all that is right according to the347law of God, but that you cannot consent to lie for anybody. If he is not a fool, he will like you the better for it, and prize you the more; for he will at once see that he has got one clerk on whose veracity he can depend. But if the man is as silly as he is unconscientious, he will probably dismiss you before long. After that, you can look about and see what you can do. And, rely upon it, God will open a way for you somewhere. But first, and most of all, repent and believe in Jesus Christ." The young man left me, promising soon to see me again. He did see me. He was led to seek the Lord. He became a decided Christian. He united with the church. But he did not remain long in his situation. His mode did not please his employer. However, he soon found another place. He soon established a character for integrity and promptness, and entered afterwards into business for himself. He prospered; he prospers still. It is now thirteen years since he came to me at that late hour in the evening; and he is now a man of extensive property, of high respectability, has a family, and is contented and happy. I often hear of him as an active and useful member of a church not far distant. I sometimes meet with him. He is still accustomed to open all his heart to me when we are together; and it is very pleasant for me to notice his deep interest in religion, his respectability and happiness. His employer became bankrupt about seven years after he left him, and almost as much bankrupt in character as in fortune. He still lives, I believe, but in poverty, scarcely sustaining himself by his daily toil.—The Word of Life.