CHAPTER X.

GEORGE MOORE, CITIZEN AND PHILANTHROPIST.

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 beaten 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.

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 means, 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.

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 his 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 competitor 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 £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 for 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 such 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.”

At this time, Mr. Moore seems to have made special efforts for the spiritual improvement of the young men and women in his employment in London, and to have retained the services of the Rev. Thomas Richardson as chaplain. And then, as was natural, his thoughts reverted to his native county of Cumberland, for which already he had done so much, and for which he felt inclined to do much more on his becoming the purchaser of the Whitehall estate, very near the parish of Mealsgate, in which he was born.

Mr. Moore was a great beggar as well as a great giver. With his friends he was often very abrupt. When he entered their offices they knew what he was about—they saw it in his face. “What is it now, Mr. Moore?” “Well, I am on a begging expedition.” “Oh, I knew that very well. What is it?” “It’s for the Royal Free Hospital, an hospital free to all without any letters of recommendation; I want twenty guineas.” “It is a large sum.” “Well, it is the sum I have set down for you to give; you must help me. Look sharp!” The cheque was got, and away he started on a fresh expedition. Sometimes, however, he met with rebuff after rebuff from men rolling in wealth, who had never given a farthing to a charitable institution. This sickened him for the day. However, he would say, “I must not be discouraged. I am doing Christ’s work.” In another way Mr. Moore was specially helpful. He was the constant resort of young men wanting situations. If he could not provide for them in his own warehouse, he endeavoured to find situations for them among his friends. He took no end of trouble about this business. After his young friends had obtained situations he continued to look after them. He took down their names and addresses in a special red book kept for the purpose, and repeatedly asked them to dine with him on Sunday afternoons. He usually requested that they should go to some church or chapel in the evening. In his diary are repeatedly such entries as the following; “Dined twenty-two of the boys that I had got situations for, besides the people that were staying in the house. I never forget that I had none to invite me to their homes when I first came to London.” How much good such kindness did it is impossible to tell; for the want of it many a young man in the City goes to the bad.

Mr. Moore’s second marriage, in 1881, seems rather to have increased than diminished his philanthropic zeal. A wedding trip of two months in Italy and elsewhere was but a brief interval of holiday, to be followed by still harder work in the cause of his Lord and Master; and then came an illness which rendered necessary for him more rest of brain and more healthy exercise for his body. In his knowledge of London he was unrivalled. He knew it by night as well as by day. Many a time he went down to St. George’s in the East and to Wapping to look after the poor. He accompanied the City missionaries into the lowest dens; and as he felt that the only way of reformation was to get at the children, we cannot be surprised to learn that in 1866 he became treasurer of the Field Lane Ragged School, an institution at that time sorely in need of pecuniary help. But his happiest days were those he spent at his Border tower at Cumberland. There the house was always full of visitors, and there the poor were equally welcome as the rich. There also, he loved to act the part of a distinguished agriculturist and to preside at cattle shows. His guests were very varied, and included bishops, Scripture-readers, warehousemen, farmers, City missionaries, Sunday-school children, pensioners, and statesmen. He rejoiced in hunting; but all the while he looked after the homes of the poor, and battled with the immorality which exists quite as much in the country as in town.

Mr. Moore was a great lover of the Bible, and distributed it by the thousand, far and near. He always insisted on its being read in schools. When the Middle-class schools were established in London, he offered a thousand pounds on condition that the Bible was read there; but he refused to give it till he found that actually such was the case. In the case of Christ’s Hospital, after Dr. Jacob’s sermon on the institution, he became an ardent reformer. As prime warden of the Fishmongers’, he distinguished himself by the vigour of his speeches. When Paris was in want, and its people destitute of bread, he flew to their relief; and no man was more active in giving relief for the destitute when the _Northfleet_ was sunk. In 1872, he was proud to be the high sheriff of his native county. Among his last public works was to give a supper to the cabmen of London, and to attend the funeral of Dr. Livingstone. And he died as he lived—engaged in works of mercy. In November, 1876, he left his grand mansion in Cumberland to attend a meeting of the Nurses’ Institute in Carlisle. While he was standing opposite the Grey Coat Inn, two runaway horses, which had escaped from a livery stable, came galloping up. One of them knocked Mr. Moore down. He was taken up insensible. Sir William Gull was sent for; but from the first there was no chance, and in twenty hours he was dead. Great was the sorrow felt everywhere, and in London and Carlisle public meetings were held for a George Moore memorial fund. At that in London the Archbishop of Canterbury presided, and Mr. Samuel Morley was one of the speakers.

Friend of the church as he was at all times, and especially attached to the Evangelical clergy, in one thing he differed from them. “The parsons,” he once said to a meeting of children at Wigton, “will tell you a good deal about money. They will tell you that it is the root of all evil; but my opinion is that it is a good thing to make plenty of money, provided you make a proper use of it.” Such was George Moore, and such were his views and works. We owe to Dr. Smiles a biography of him, which is as interesting and instructive as could well be imagined. It should be read by all City young men; it should be in every City library. The character therein portrayed ought to be studied, and revered, and imitated in every home. Few of us can expect to realise his wealth, but his example is one to be held up to every City man.

“People who believe,” says a writer in the _Daily News_, “that genius is great natural power accidentally directed, may think that the career of the late Mr. George Moore justifies the well-known definition. Mr. Moore’s name was very well known, not in England only, but on the continent, by every one who was labouring to lighten the misery of the poor. The philanthropic schemes to which he gave the aid of his energy, his knowledge of men and of life, and his money, were too many to be numbered here. The French, in particular, cherish a grateful memory of his benevolent activity, of the help he extended to the victims in the war of 1870. To many who only heard of Mr. Moore in his later life, and in the full tide of his helpfulness and prosperity, it may have been unknown that he was the maker of the fortune which he distributed with a generous hand. The biography of him by Mr. Smiles, which has just been published, is a very interesting account of a career which began in a humble though honourable estate, and ended by a singular accident in the northern town where it may be said to have begun. The history of ‘Self-Help’ is not invariably edifying. The chief end of man, after all, is not to get on in the world, to make a great deal of money, and to have paragraphs devoted to his glory. This is so far from being the case that one has even to overcome a slight natural prejudice against the strength which displays itself mainly in the acquisition of a fortune. In almost every rank of life leisure has its charms and good gifts, which a man who never takes rest must miss. The subject of Mr. Smiles’s book escapes from the vulgar renown of the self-made by his unselfishness. His energy, his ceaseless labours in his early life, were not the manifestations of a desire for wealth and for advancement, but the natural expression of immense natural strength of mind and body. When success was secured, the same vigour spent itself in work for other people—for the poor, the weak, the helpless, the ignorant. Mr. Moore might have devoted himself to the joys of the collector, of the sportsman, of the ambitious _parvenu_. Instead of doing so, he made amusement and enjoyment subordinate to work for the benefit of others. He had not the hardness and narrowness of people whose career has been one of victory over the natural pleasures and innocent impulses of an indolent race. ‘I don’t think I ever came across any other self-made man who had so entirely got the chill of poverty out of his bones,’ Dr. Percival wrote to Mr. Smiles. His geniality and unselfishness soften the edges of his iron will and determination. People may think that so much of the material and force that make greatness, might have been better employed in work of a nobler tone—in science, literature, law, or art. Mr. Moore took the only career that was open to him, the career that was most distinctly in contrast with the pastoral life to which he was bred. He had no education in his youth, none lay within his reach in the Cumbrian valley where he was born. With the chances of Dr. Whewell he might have been a Whewell. With an opening in the East, he might have been, if not a Clive, a Meadows Taylor. As it happened, the choice lay between the existence of a farm labourer and that of a tradesman.”