Mr. Joseph Hanson, The 
Haberdasher, by 
 
Mary Russell Mitford This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at 
no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, 
give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg 
License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org 
Title: Mr. Joseph Hanson, The Haberdasher 
Author: Mary Russell Mitford 
Release Date: October 2, 2007 [EBook #22841] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 
JOSEPH HANSON, THE HABERDASHER *** 
 
Produced by David Widger 
 
MR. JOSEPH HANSON, THE HABERDASHER 
By Mary Russell Mitford 
These are good days for great heroes; so far at least as regards the 
general spread and universal diffusion of celebrity. In the matter of
fame, indeed, that grand bill upon posterity which is to be found written 
in the page of history, and the changes of empires, Alexander may, for 
aught I know, be nearly on a par with the Duke of Wellington; but in 
point of local and temporary tributes to reputation, the great ancient, 
king though he were, must have been far behind the great modern. 
Even that comparatively recent warrior, the Duke of Marlborough, 
made but a slight approach to the popular honours paid to the 
conqueror of Napoleon. A few alehouse signs and the ballad of 
"Marlbrook s'en va't en guerre," (for we are not talking now of the titles, 
and pensions, and palaces, granted to him by the Sovereign and the 
Parliament,) seem to have been the chief if not the only popular 
demonstrations vouchsafed by friends and enemies to the hero of 
Blenheim. 
The name of Wellington, on the other hand, is necessarily in every 
man's mouth at every hour of every day. He is the universal godfather 
of every novelty, whether in art, in literature, or in science. Streets, 
bridges, places, crescents, terraces, and railways, on the land; 
steam-boats on the water; balloons in the air, are all distinguished by 
that honoured appellation. We live in Wellington squares, we travel in 
Wellington coaches, we dine in Wellington hotels, we are educated in 
Wellington establishments, and are clothed from top to toe (that is to 
say the male half of the nation) in Wellington boots, Wellington cloaks, 
Wellington hats, each of which shall have been severally purchased at a 
warehouse bearing the same distinguished title. 
Since every market town and almost every village in the kingdom, 
could boast a Wellington house, or a Waterloo house, emulous to catch 
some gilded ray from the blaze of their great namesake's glory, it would 
have been strange indeed if the linendrapers and haberdashers of our 
good town of Belford Regis had been so much in the rear of fashion as 
to neglect this easy method of puffing off their wares. On the contrary, 
so much did our shopkeepers rely upon the influence of an illustrious 
appellation, that they seemed to despair of success unless sheltered by 
the laurels of the great commander, and would press his name into the 
service, even after its accustomed and legitimate forms of use seemed 
exhausted. Accordingly we had not only a Wellington house and a
Waterloo house, but a new Waterloo establishment, and a genuine and 
original Duke of Wellington warehouse. 
The new Waterloo establishment, a flashy dashy shop in the 
market-place, occupying a considerable extent of frontage, and 
"conducted (as the advertisements have it) by Mr. Joseph Hanson, late 
of London," put forth by far the boldest pretensions of any magazine of 
finery and frippery in the town; and it is with that magnificent store, 
and with that only, that I intend to deal in the present story. 
If the celebrated Mr. Puff, he of the Critic, who, although Sheridan 
probably borrowed the idea of that most amusing personage from the 
auctioneers and picture-dealers of Foote's admirable farces, first 
reduced to system the art of profitable lying, setting forth methodically 
(scientifically it would be called in these days) the different genera and 
species of that flourishing craft--if Mr. Puff himself were to revisit this 
mortal stage, he would lift; up his hands and eyes in admiration and 
astonishment at the improvements which have taken place in the art 
from whence he took, or to which he gave, a name (for the fact is 
doubtful) the renowned art of Puffing! 
Talk of the progress of society, indeed! of the march of intellect, and 
the diffusion of knowledge, of infant schools and adult colleges, of 
gas-lights and rail-roads, of steam-boats and steam-coaches, of 
literature for nothing, and science for less! What are they and fifty other 
such nick-nacks compared with the vast strides made by this improving 
age in the grand art of puffing? Nay, are they not for the most part mere 
implements and accessories of that    
    
		
	
	
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