Champagne has all the appearance of a poor region, and it is a poor
region. Its general aspect is sad; the land is flat. Passing through
the villages, and even the towns, you will see nothing but miserable
buildings of wood or half-baked clay; the best are built of brick.
Stone is scarcely used at all except on public buildings. At Arcis the
chateau, the law courts, and the church are the only stone buildings.
Nevertheless, Champagne, or, if you prefer to say so, the departments
of the Aube, Marne, and Haut-Marne, richly endowed with vineyards, the
fame of which is world-wide, are otherwise full of flourishing
industries.

Without speaking of the manufactures of Reims, nearly all the hosiery
of France--a very considerable trade--is manufactured about Troyes.
The surrounding country, over a circuit of thirty miles, is covered
with workmen, whose looms can be seen through the open doors as we
pass through the villages. These workmen are employed by agents, who
themselves are in the service of speculators called manufacturers. The
agents negotiate with the large Parisian houses, often with the retail
hosiers, all of whom put out the sign, "Manufacturers of Hosiery."
None of them have ever made a pair of stockings, nor a cap, nor a
sock; all their hosiery comes chiefly from Champagne, though there are
a few skilled workmen in Paris who can rival the Champenois.

This intermediate agency between the producer and the consumer is an
evil not confined to hosiery. It exists in almost all trades, and
increases the cost of merchandise by the amount of the profit exacted
by the middlemen. To break down these costly partitions, that injure
the sale of products, would be a magnificent enterprise, which, in its
results, would attain to the height of statesmanship. In fact,
industry of all kinds would gain by establishing within our borders