The Tricks of the Town: or, Ways and Means of getting Money — Context and Discussion

The Auction as Theatre

The description of auctioneering in the excerpts is remarkably specific. The author names the players: the “Orator” or “Mouth of the Sale,” surrounded by “Puffs and Setters.” One female accomplice bids against a woman of quality with no intention to buy, driving up prices. A third confederate feigns a dispute with the rostrum to distract or delay. The goods themselves are “Lumber” from Moor-fields and Knaves-acre, with barely a thirtieth of the deceased’s real furniture present. The passage is not a general complaint about auctions but a precise anatomy of a rigged sale, down to the newspaper advertisement that lures thrifty ladies. The author’s eye for detail—the “huge rotten Carpet” displayed as a standard—gives the satire a documentary feel.

Counterfeit Coins and Street-Level Extortion

A second extended episode describes a “gay young Fellow” who, reduced by play, adopts a new livelihood. He dresses well, hires a chair, and visits taverns or coffeehouses, where he ostentatiously throws down a guinea and demands change. When the barkeeper declares the coin bad, the beau responds with a “Volley of Oaths.” The chairmen, peeping through windows, enter at the signal, bowing “with their Heads as crooked as Dolphins,” and the dispute is resolved—often in the sharper’s favor. The author notes this scheme has been running “within a Year past,” suggesting topicality. The passage is notable for its attention to props (snuff-box, ring) and staging (the chairmen’s entrance), and for the way it embeds fraud in the rituals of polite sociability.

The Economics of Damaged Clothing

Perhaps the most peculiar fraud detailed is the systematic destruction of apparel. The author asserts as fact that coachmen and carters are paid to splash mud on richly dressed pedestrians, and that drapers and mercers reward them with a shilling per exploit. A foot-soldier caught “bedaubing a noble Lord’s new Suit” with a powder that would ruin it in a week confesses to a salary of thirty pounds per annum from drapers and tailors. The logic is economic: damaged clothes must be replaced. The passage is striking for its matter-of-fact tone—the author treats this as a known trade, not a rumor—and for the way it connects street-level vandalism to the interests of respectable merchants. The catalog subject “Crime” here shades into something closer to commercial collusion.

Readers should approach The Tricks of the Town not as a systematic treatise but as a series of sharply observed vignettes, each built around a specific swindle. The author’s voice is that of a knowing insider, fond of ironic asides and theatrical detail. The excerpts suggest the book is best read in short bursts, savoring the concrete mechanics of each fraud rather than seeking a unified argument. The 1732 date and the retention of original spelling remind us that these tricks belong to a particular historical moment—yet the underlying patterns of trust, greed, and performance remain recognizable.

I keep thinking about that old London exposé, how every trick was just people circling each other for advantage. It felt sharp and weary, like a long conversation after midnight. It reminded me of sitting with Passages from the American Notebooks, Volume 2. — Reading Notes, where Hawthorne quietly watches the same dance in ordinary faces, and neither book lets you look away.