Man first catches the profession; the profession afterwards moulds the
man. In whatever profession we engage we assume its character, become a
part of it, vindicate its honour, its eminence, its antiquity, or feel a
wound through its sides. Though there may be no more pride in a minister
of state who opens a budget, than in a tinker who carries one, yet they
equally contend for the honour of their trade.
The bellows-maker proclaims the _honour_ of his art by observing, he
alone produces that instrument which commands the winds; his soft
breeze, like that of the south, counteracts the chill blasts of winter;
by his efforts, like those of the sun, the world receives light; he
creates when he pleases, and gives breath when he creates. In his
caverns the winds sleep at pleasure, and by his “orders” they set Europe
in flames. He farther pretends, that the antiquity of his occupation
will appear from the plenty of elm, once in the neighbourhood, but long
cut up for his use; that the leather-market in Birmingham, for many
ages, furnished him with sides; and though the manufacture of iron is
allowed to be extremely ancient, yet the smith could not procure his
heat without a blast, nor could that blast be raised without the
bellows. One inference will arise from these remarks, that
bellows-making is one of the oldest trades in Birmingham.