some inducements to
go."

A fanciful illustration will make my meaning more explicit: One of
those philanthropists (whom we will call "The Baron") and myself both
wish to get a crowd of people on to the plain of Longchamps near
Paris, on a hot Sunday afternoon. The Baron, by promising them 10
francs each, will, for 200,000 francs, bring out 20,000 perspiring and
miserable people, who will curse him for having given them so much
annoyance. Whereas I will offer these 200,000 francs as a prize for
the swiftest racehorse--and then I shall have to put up barriers to
keep the people off Longchamps. They will pay to go in: 1 franc, 5
francs, 20 francs.

The consequence will be that I shall get the half-a-million of people
out there; the President of the Republic will drive up "a la Daumont";
and the crowds will enjoy and amuse themselves. Most of them will
think it an agreeable walk in the open air in spite of heat and dust;
and I shall have made by my 200,000 francs about a million in entrance
money and taxes on gaming. I shall get the same people out there
whenever I like but the Baron will not--not on any account.

I will give a more serious illustration of the phenomenon of
multitudes where they are earning a livelihood. Let any man attempt to
cry through the streets of a town: "Whoever is willing to stand all
day long through a winter's terrible cold, through a summer's
tormenting heat, in an iron hall exposed on all sides, there to
address every passer-by, and to offer him fancy wares, or fish, or
fruit, will receive two florins, or four francs or something similar."

How many people would go to the hall? How many days would they hold
out when hunger drove them there? And if they held out, what energy
would they display in trying to persuade passers-by to buy fish, fruit
and fancy wares?

We shall set about it in a different way. In places where trade is
active, and these places we shall the more easily discover, since we
ourselves direct trade withersoever we wish, in these places we shall
build large halls, and call them markets. These halls might be worse
built and more unwholesome than those above mentioned, and yet people
would stream towards them. But we shall use our best efforts, and we
shall build them better, and make them more beautiful than the first.
And the people, to whom we had promised nothing, because we cannot
promise anything without deceiving them, these excellent, keen
business men will gail