ted by the noble republics of
antiquity, and the haughty barons in the middle ages, is doubtless
unreasonable, if by industry we understand those complicated fabrics
which require science and art, or a grand wholesale trade, which
requires such a variety of knowledge, information, and combination. But
this repugnance is truly reasonable when it relates to the ordinary
usages of commerce, the miserable necessity in which the tradesman finds
himself of lying, cheating, and adulterating.

"I do not hesitate to affirm, that, for a man of honour, the position of
the most dependent working man is free in comparison with this. A serf
in body, he is free in soul. To enslave his soul on the contrary and his
tongue, to be obliged, from morning till night, to disguise his
thoughts, this is the lowest state of slavery.

"It is singular that it is precisely for honour that he lies every day,
viz. to _honour_ his affairs. Dishonour for him is not falsehood, but
bankruptcy. Rather than _fail_, commercial honour will urge him on to
the point at which fraud is equivalent to robbery, adulteration to
poisoning; a gentle poisoning, I know, with small doses, which kill only
in the long run.

"The manufacturer, and even the artisan, have two things which, in spite
of work, render their lot better than that of the tradesman--

"First.--_The tradesman does not create_; he has not the important
happiness--worthy of a man--to produce something--to see his work
growing under his hand, assuming a form, becoming harmonious, responding
to its framer by its progress, and thus consoling his _ennui_ and his
trouble.

"Secondly.--Another awful disadvantage, in my opinion, is, _the
tradesman is obliged to please_. The workman gives his time, the
manufacturer his merchandise, for so much money: that is a simple
contract which is not humiliating, neither has occasion to flatter. They
are not obliged, often with a lacerated heart and tearful eyes, to be
amiable and gay on a sudden, like the lady behind the counter. The
tradesman, though uneasy, and tormented to death about a bill that falls
due to-morrow, must smile, and give himself up by a cruel effort to the
prating of some young fashionable lady, who makes him unfold a hundred
pieces, chats for two hours, and, after all, departs without a purchase.
He must please, and so must his wife. He has staked in trade, not only
his wealth, his person, and his life, but often his family."

We need not ask,