THE HORSE-TRADE
Twenty-five years ago an American, himself a victim of the commercial
system and dying of consumption, wrote a novel which contained a
description of a horse-trade. The novel was rejected by many publishers,
but came finally to one reader who recognized this horse-trading scene
as the epitome of American civilization. He persuaded the author to
rewrite the book, putting the horse-trade first, and making everything
else in the novel subsidiary; this was done, and the result was the most
sensational success in the history of American fiction. Young and old,
rich and poor, high and low, all Americans recognized in the opening
scene of “David Harum” the creed they believed in, the code they
followed, the success they sought: they bought six hundred thousand
copies of the book. I was young at the time, but I recall how all the
people I knew were shaking their sides with laughter, discussing the
story with one another, delighting in every step of the process whereby
David got the better of the deacon.
Let us analyze this horse-trade, taking our data from the book. First,
there is the lie of the seller, describing a horse which he believes to
be useless. “He’s wuth two hundred jest as he stands. He ain’t had no
trainin’, an’ he c’n draw two men in a road wagin better’n fifty.” And
second, there is the lie of the purchaser, as the purchaser himself
boasts about it afterwards: “Wa’al, the more I looked at him, the better
I liked him, but I only says, ‘Jes so, jes so, he may be wuth the money,
but jes as I’m fixed now he ain’t wuth it to _me_, an’ I hain’t got that
much money with me if he was,’ I says.”
So we see that in a horse-trade both the traders lie; and further we see
that each pretends to be telling the truth, and makes an effort to
persuade the other that he is telling the truth. Watching the ignoble
process, we perceive that neither of the traders is ever sure how far
his own lies are being accepted; nor is he sure what modicum of truth
there may be in the other’s lies. So each is in a state of uncertainty
and fear. When the process has been completed, one trader has a sense of
triumph, mingled with contempt for the victim; the other trader has a
sense of hatred, mingled with resolve to “get square.”
It is further to be pointed out that this conflict of wits, this modern
form of the duello, while it seems ruthless and cruel, yet has its own
strict ethical code. David would lie to the deacon, but he would not
pick the deacon’s pocket, nor would he stab the deacon in the back, no
matter how badly the deacon might have defeated him in commercial war.
We observe also that the author feels under the necessity of persuading
us that David would not have cheated the deacon unless he had first been
cheated _by_ the deacon; this being the conventional lie of the
horse-trader turned novelist. We may also observe that next to the
impulse to acquisitiveness, the supreme quality of this Yankee farmer,
comes the impulse to sociability; having consummated his bargain, he
tells his sister about it, and the humanness of the story lies not
merely in the triumph of David, but in his pleasure in telling his
sister. And observe that David tells her the truth without reservation.
There might be other matters about which he would lie to his sister, but
so far as concerns this horse-trade, he knows that she will not betray
him to the deacon.
When the first savage offered a fish in exchange for a cocoanut, and
made statements as to the freshness of the fish, and the difficulties
and perils of fishing, the trade-lie was a comparatively simple thing.
But in the process of industrial evolution, there have been developed so
many variations and complexities that an encyclopedia of occupational
deceptions would be required. Suffice it to say that the principle is
understood in every nation and clime, being embodied in innumerable
maxims and witticisms: _caveat emptor_: business is business; dog eat
dog; the devil take the hindmost; look out for Number One; do others or
they will do you; self-preservation is the first law of Nature. In a
civilization based upon commercial competition, _laissez faire_ and
freedom of contract, the lie of the horse-trader becomes the basis of
all the really significant actions of men and women.
So obvious is this, so clearly is it set forth in the wisdom of the
race, that at first thought it seems surprising that anyone could be led
into believing a trade-lie. But it is obvious that the test of a
competent liar is that he gets himself believed; like the endless
struggle between the gun-maker and the armor-plate maker, is the
struggle between the trader and his victim. The trader is aided by the
fact that an impulse towards constructiveness has been planted in the
human heart, which breeds a repugnance to dishonesty. So there are
ideals and aspirations, religions, loyalties and patriotisms; there are
the Christs and Galileos of history, the Parsivals and Don Quixotes of
legend. As the trader himself puts it, there is a sucker born every
minute. The trader kills a silly sheep, and puts the skin over his
wolf’s hide; so we have religious institutions and ethical systems,
philanthropic endowments, professional codes, political platforms; we
have honors, offices and titles, proprieties and respectabilities,
graces, refinements, etiquettes and standards of good taste. Many of
these things begin naively and in good faith; but in a society given up
to commercial competition, and dominated by systems of greed, they all
become trade-lies, and are used as weapons in the war of the classes.