'The Business Man' by Edgar Allen Poe
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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 outre. 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, 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 knocked my head into a cocked hat against the bedpost. This, I say, decided my fate, and made my fortune. A bump arose 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 drygoods 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- you may set him down at once as a genius, and then, according to the rule-of-three, he's an ass.
Now I am not in any respect a genius, but a regular business man. My Day-book and Ledger will 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 fellowmen. 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 autobiography 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 be 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 around 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 kindhearted female who had originally put these means within my reach.
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 gone even then, if I had not happened to hear my old mother talk 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 well at the first effort, and by the time I was fairly eighteen, found myself doing an extensive and profitable business in the Tailor's 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, Messrs. Cut & 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 quarreled 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:
Messrs. Cut & Comeagain,
To Peter Proffit, Walking Advertiser,
JULY 10.- to promenade, as usual and customer brought home...$00 25
JULY 11.- Todododo25
JULY 12.- To one lie, second class; damaged black cloth sold for
JULY 13.- To one lie, first class, extra quality and size;
recommended milled satinet as broadcloth......................75
JULY 20.- To purchasing bran new paper shirt collar or dickey,
to set off gray Petersham.....................................02
AUG. 15.- To wearing double-padded bobtail frock, (thermometer
106 in the shade).............................................25
AUG. 16.- Standing on one leg three hours, to show off new-style
strapped pants at 12 1/2 cents per leg per hour............. 37 1/2
AUG. 17.- To promenade, as usual, and large customer brought
AUG. 18.- Tododo(medium size).................25
AUG. 19.- Tododo(small man and bad pay).......06
[sic] $2 96 1/2
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. I left at once the employment of Messrs. Cut & 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 a pig-sty, 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 into jail; and the gentlemen of the Eye-Sore trade could not well avoid cutting my connection when I came out.
The Assault-and-Battery business, into which I was now forced to adventure for a livelihood, was somewhat ill-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 afterward, 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 party 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. Blew 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 ruffian, 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 is 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 all out of shape, so that I didn't know very well what to make of the matter, and so that my friends, when they met me in the street, couldn't tell that I was Peter Proffit at all, it occurred to me that the best expedient I could adopt was to alter my line of business. I turned my attention, therefore, to Mud-Dabbling, and continued it 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 did only a retail business myself, but my old habits of system carried 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 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 failed to pitch me a copper, and got over my crossing with a clean pair of pantaloons. And, as my business habits, in this respect, were sufficiently understood, I never met with any attempt at imposition. I wouldn't have put up with it, if I had. Never imposing upon any one myself, I suffered no one to play the possum with me. The frauds of the banks of course I couldn't help. Their suspension put me to ruinous inconvenience. These, however, are not individuals, but corporations; and corporations, it is very well known, have neither bodies to be kicked nor souls to be damned.
I was making money at this business when, in an evil moment, I was induced to merge it in the Cur-Spattering- a somewhat analogous, but, by no means, so respectable a profession. My location, to be sure, was an excellent one, being central, and I had capital blacking and brushes. My little dog, too, was quite fat and up to all varieties of snuff. He had been in the trade a long time, and, I may say, understood it. Our general routine was this:- Pompey, having rolled himself well in the mud, sat upon end at the shop door, until he observed a dandy approaching in bright boots. He then proceeded to meet him, and gave the Wellingtons a rub or two with his wool. Then the dandy swore very much, and looked about for a boot-black. There I was, full in his view, with blacking and brushes. It was only a minute's work, and then came a sixpence. This did moderately well for a time;- in fact, I was not avaricious, but my dog was. I allowed him a third of the profit, but he was advised to insist upon half. This I couldn't stand- so we quarrelled and parted.
I next tried my hand at the Organ-Grinding for a while, and may say that I made out pretty well. It is a plain, straightforward business, and requires no particular abilities. You can get a music-mill for a mere song, and to put it in order, you have but to open the works, and give them three or four smart raps with a hammer. In improves the tone of the thing, for business purposes, more than you can imagine. This done, you have only to stroll along, with the mill on your back, until you see tanbark in the street, and a knocker wrapped up in buckskin. Then you stop and grind; looking as if you meant to stop and grind till doomsday. Presently a window opens, and somebody pitches you a sixpence, with a request to "Hush up and go on," etc. I am aware that some grinders have actually afforded to "go on" for this sum; but for my part, I found the necessary outlay of capital too great to permit of my "going on" under a shilling.
At this occupation I did a good deal; but, somehow, I was not quite satisfied, and so finally abandoned it. The truth is, I labored under the disadvantage of having no monkey- and American streets are so muddy, and a Democratic rabble is so obstrusive, and so full of demnition mischievous little boys.
I was now out of employment for some months, but at length succeeded, by dint of great interest, in procuring a situation in the Sham-Post. The duties, here, are simple, and not altogether unprofitable. For example:- very early in the morning I had to make up my packet of sham letters. Upon the inside of each of these I had to scrawl a few lines on any subject which occurred to me as sufficiently mysterious- signing all the epistles Tom Dobson, or Bobby Tompkins, or anything in that way. Having folded and sealed all, and stamped them with sham postmarks- New Orleans, Bengal, Botany Bay, or any other place a great way off- I set out, forthwith, upon my daily route, as if in a very great hurry. I always called at the big houses to deliver the letters, and receive the postage. Nobody hesitates at paying for a letter- especially for a double one- people are such fools- and it was no trouble to get round a corner before there was time to open the epistles. The worst of this profession was, that I had to walk so much and so fast; and so frequently to vary my route. Besides, I had serious scruples of conscience. I can't bear to hear innocent individuals abused- and the way the whole town took to cursing Tom Dobson and Bobby Tompkins was really awful to hear. I washed my hands of the matter in disgust.
My eighth and last speculation has been in the Cat-Growing way. I have found that a most pleasant and lucrative business, and, really, no trouble at all. The country, it is well known, has become infested with cats- so much so of late, that a petition for relief, most numerously and respectably signed, was brought before the Legislature at its late memorable session. The Assembly, at this epoch, was unusually well-informed, and, having passed many other wise and wholesome enactments, it crowned all with the Cat-Act. In its original form, this law offered a premium for cat-heads (fourpence a-piece), but the Senate succeeded in amending the main clause, so as to substitute the word "tails" for "heads." This amendment was so obviously proper, that the House concurred in it nem. con.
As soon as the governor had signed the bill, I invested my whole estate in the purchase of Toms and Tabbies. At first I could only afford to feed them upon mice (which are cheap), but they fulfilled the scriptural injunction at so marvellous a rate, that I at length considered it my best policy to be liberal, and so indulged them in oysters and turtle. Their tails, at a legislative price, now bring me in a good income; for I have discovered a way, in which, by means of Macassar oil, I can force three crops in a year. It delights me to find, too, that the animals soon get accustomed to the thing, and would rather have the appendages cut off than otherwise. I consider myself, therefore, a made man, and am bargaining for a country seat on the Hudson.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Edgar Allan Poe is an American author and poet, best known for his dark and mysterious tales of horror and suspense. But Poe was also a master of the short story, and his lesser-known works, such as "The Business Man," reveal his skill not only as a writer of macabre tales but also as a writer of social commentary. In "The Business Man," Poe takes on the world of commerce and industry, exploring the corruption and greed that pervade the business world. Through his protagonist, Peter Proffit, Poe offers a scathing critique of capitalism and the pursuit of wealth at any cost. In this literary criticism and interpretation, we will delve into the themes and symbolism of "The Business Man" to understand what Poe was trying to say about the business world of his time.
"The Business Man" is a short story about Peter Proffit, a shrewd businessman who makes his living through deceit and manipulation. Proffit is not above lying, cheating, or even stealing to get what he wants, and he is proud of his ability to swindle his customers. However, Proffit's luck runs out when he meets a stranger who tells him of a grand scheme to make a fortune by investing in a new invention. Proffit eagerly agrees to the plan, but it soon becomes clear that he has been duped, and his entire fortune is lost. Penniless and alone, Proffit reflects on his life and realizes that his pursuit of wealth has left him with nothing meaningful. He resolves to live a simpler life, free from the greed and corruption of the business world.
One of the main themes of "The Business Man" is the corrosive nature of greed. Proffit is a man consumed by his desire for wealth, and he is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve it. He lies to his customers, cheats his suppliers, and takes advantage of anyone who gets in his way. This obsession with money has turned him into a cold and heartless person, incapable of feeling true joy or happiness. It is only when he loses everything that he realizes the folly of his ways and understands that there is more to life than accumulating wealth.
Another theme of the story is the corrupting influence of capitalism. Poe portrays the business world as a place where the pursuit of profit has replaced all other values. Honesty, integrity, and compassion are seen as weaknesses in this world, and those who possess them are often taken advantage of by unscrupulous businessmen like Proffit. Poe is critical of a system that rewards greed and punishes virtue, and he suggests that capitalism is inherently corrupt.
Poe uses symbolism throughout "The Business Man" to reinforce his themes and create a deeper meaning. One of the most prominent symbols in the story is Proffit's gold watch. The watch is described as his most prized possession, and he constantly checks it to make sure he is not wasting any time that could be spent making money. The watch represents Proffit's obsession with time and his belief that every moment must be spent pursuing wealth. However, the watch also serves as a reminder of the fleeting nature of life and the importance of using one's time wisely. When Proffit loses his fortune, he realizes that all the time he spent pursuing money was wasted, and he is left with nothing but regrets.
Another symbol in the story is the stranger who lures Proffit into the investment scheme. The stranger represents the corrupting influence of capitalism, tempting Proffit with the promise of easy money and leading him down a path of destruction. The stranger is described as "sallow" and "cadaverous," suggesting that he is a symbol of death and decay. His very presence in the story is a warning of the dangers of greed and the consequences of putting profit above all else.
"The Business Man" is a powerful critique of capitalism and the pursuit of wealth at any cost. Poe suggests that the business world is a corrupt and soulless place, where honesty and integrity are seen as weaknesses and greed is rewarded. Proffit is a symbol of the worst aspects of this system, a man who has sacrificed his humanity for the sake of profit. His fall from grace is a warning to others who would follow in his footsteps, and Poe suggests that there is a higher value than money that we should strive to achieve.
At the same time, however, Poe does not offer a simple solution to the problems he identifies. Proffit's resolution to live a simpler life may seem like a positive change, but it is also a recognition of his own failure. He cannot undo the harm he has caused or make amends for his past actions. In this sense, "The Business Man" is a cautionary tale, warning us of the dangers of greed and corruption but also suggesting that it is not easy to escape their grasp.
In "The Business Man," Edgar Allan Poe offers a scathing critique of capitalism and the pursuit of wealth at any cost. Through his protagonist, Peter Proffit, Poe shows us the corrosive nature of greed and the corrupting influence of the business world. He uses symbolism to reinforce his themes and create a deeper meaning, warning us of the consequences of putting profit above all else. Although the story does not offer a simple solution to the problems it identifies, it is a powerful reminder that there is more to life than accumulating wealth.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
The Business Man: A Masterpiece by Edgar Allan Poe
Edgar Allan Poe is a name that needs no introduction. He is one of the most celebrated writers of all time, known for his dark and mysterious tales that continue to captivate readers to this day. However, Poe's talents were not limited to the realm of horror and suspense. In fact, one of his lesser-known works, The Business Man, is a masterpiece in its own right.
The Business Man is a short story that was first published in 1850. It tells the story of a man named Peter Proffit, who is a successful businessman but is plagued by a sense of emptiness and dissatisfaction with his life. One day, he decides to take a break from his work and go on a journey to find happiness. Along the way, he meets a series of characters who challenge his beliefs and force him to confront his own shortcomings.
At its core, The Business Man is a story about the human condition. It explores the universal themes of ambition, success, and the pursuit of happiness. Poe's writing is both insightful and thought-provoking, and he manages to convey complex ideas in a way that is accessible and engaging.
One of the most striking aspects of The Business Man is the character of Peter Proffit. He is a man who has achieved great success in his career but is still unhappy. This is a theme that is still relevant today, as many people struggle to find meaning and purpose in their lives despite achieving material success. Proffit's journey is a reminder that true happiness cannot be found in external achievements but must come from within.
Another notable aspect of The Business Man is the way in which Poe uses symbolism to convey deeper meanings. For example, Proffit's journey takes him through a series of landscapes, each of which represents a different aspect of his personality. The barren desert represents his sense of emptiness, while the lush forest represents his desire for growth and change. These symbols add depth and richness to the story, and they help to convey the complex emotions and ideas that Poe is exploring.
In addition to its thematic depth, The Business Man is also a masterclass in storytelling. Poe's prose is elegant and precise, and he has a knack for creating vivid and memorable characters. Each of the characters that Proffit meets on his journey is unique and interesting, and they all serve a specific purpose in the story. This attention to detail is what sets Poe apart as a writer, and it is what makes The Business Man such a compelling read.
Overall, The Business Man is a masterpiece of literature that deserves to be more widely read and appreciated. It is a story that speaks to the human experience in a profound and meaningful way, and it is a testament to Poe's skill as a writer. Whether you are a fan of his horror stories or not, The Business Man is a must-read for anyone who appreciates great literature.
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