Fairly well said:
“So why the hell are we fighting him sir?”
McCandless smiled. “Because we want to be here, and he doesn’t want us to be here. Two dogs in a small cage, Sharpe. And if he beats us out of Mysore he’ll bring in the French to chase us out of the rest of India and we can then bid farewell to the best part of our eastern trade. That’s what it’s about, Sharpe, trade. That’s why you’re fighting here, trade.”
Sharpe grimaced. “It seems a funny thing to be fighting about, sir.”
“Does it?” McCandless seemed surprised. “Not to me, Sharpe. Without trade there’s no wealth, and without wealth there’s no society worth having. Without trade, Private Sharpe, we’d be nothing but beasts in the mud. Trade is indeed worth fighting for, though the good Lord knows we don’t appreciate trade much. We celebrate kings, we honor great men, we admire aristocrats, we applaud actors, we shower gold on portrait painters and we even, sometimes, reward soldiers, but we always despise merchants. But why? It’s the merchant’s wealth that drives the mills, Sharpe; it moves the looms, it keeps the hammers falling, it fills the fleets, it makes the roads, it forges the iron, it grows the wheat, it bakes the bread, and it builds the churches and the cottages and the palaces. Without God and trade we would be nothing.”