From my shop in St. Francis Street,
December 14th, 1724.
My Lord,
I reflect too late on the maxim of common observers, “that those who meddle in matters out of their calling will have reason to repent;” which is now verified in me: for, by engaging in the trade of a writer, I have drawn upon myself the displeasure of the government, signified by a proclamation, promising a reward of three hundred pounds to the first faithful subject who shall be able and inclined to inform against me; to which I may add the laudable zeal and industry of my Lord Chief Justice Whitshed, in his endeavours to discover so dangerous a person. Therefore, whether I repent or not, I have certainly cause to do so; and the common observation still stands good.
It will sometimes happen, I know not how, in the course of human affairs, that a man shall be made liable to legal animadversion where he has nothing to answer for either to God or his country, and condemned at Westminster Hall for what he will never be charged with at the day of judgment.
After strictly examining my own heart, and consulting some divines of great reputation, I cannot accuse myself of any malice or wickedness against the public,—of any designs to sow sedition,—of reflecting on the King and his ministers,—or of endeavouring to alienate the affections of the people of this kingdom from those of England.[13] All I can charge myself with is, a weak attempt to serve a nation in danger of destruction by a most wicked and malicious projector, without waiting until I were called to its assistance; which attempt, however it may perhaps give me the title of pragmatical and overweening, will never lie a burden upon my conscience.
God knows, whether I may not, with all my caution, have already run myself into a second danger by offering thus much in my own vindication; for I have heard of a judge, who, upon the criminal’s appeal to the dreadful day of judgment, told him he had incurred a premunire, for appealing to a foreign jurisdiction; and of another in Wales, who severely checked the prisoner for offering the same plea, taxing him with “reflecting on the Court by such a comparison, because comparisons were odious.”
But, in order to make some excuse for being more speculative than others of my condition, I desire your Lordship’s pardon, while I am doing a very foolish thing; which is, to give you some little account of myself.
I was bred at a free school, where I acquired some little knowledge in the Latin tongue. I served my apprenticeship in London, and there set up for myself with good success; until, by the death of some friends, and the misfortunes of others, I returned into this kingdom, and began to employ my thoughts in cultivating the woollen manufacture through all its branches, wherein I met with great discouragement and powerful opposers, whose objections appeared to me very strange and singular. They argued, “that the people of England would be offended if our manufactures were brought to equal theirs;” and even some of the weaving trade were my enemies, which I could not but look upon as absurd and unnatural. I remember your lordship, at that time, did me the honour to come into my shop, where I showed you a piece of black and white stuff just sent from the dyer,[14] which you were pleased to approve of, and be my customer for.
However, I was so mortified, that I resolved, for the future, to sit quietly in my shop, and deal in common goods, like the rest of my brethren; until it happened, some months ago, considering with myself that the lower and poorer sort of people wanted a plain, strong, coarse stuff, to defend them against cold easterly winds, which then blew very fierce and blasting for a long time together, I contrived one[15] on purpose, which sold very well all over the kingdom, and preserved many thousands from agues. I then made a second and a third kind of stuffs[16] for the gentry with the same success; insomuch, that an ague has hardly been heard of for some time.
This incited me so far, that I ventured upon a fourth piece,[17] made of the best Irish wool I could get; and I thought it grave and rich enough to be worn by the best lord or judge of the land. But of late some great folks complain, as I hear, “that, when they had it on, they felt a shuddering in their limbs,”—and have thrown it off in a rage, cursing to hell the poor Drapier who invented it; so that I am determined never to work for persons of quality again, except for your lordship, and a very few more.