“Ah! Are you not rich enough?”
“Yes. But your father is ambitious. He wants the maximum in everything, and affirms that there is no reason why French fortunes should not be as great as those of the Americans.”
“Ah! The Vanderbilts and the Astors! What a weakness to think of such things!”
“My young friend, you cannot understand this intoxication of success which takes possession of the calmest and most level-headed of men. You know well enough that your father is very simple in his tastes, and spends less money than you do. But it is no longer a matter of pleasure; it is a question of arithmetic.”
“Yes, I know. But it is precisely there that the harm lies. It would be far better if he were not so rich, and spent more money. What weapons you place in the hands of these socialists, who are, at this very moment, causing us so much trouble! How can you justify in their eyes such a piling-up of capital at the disposal of one individual whilst the generality of men toil and suffer from all kinds of privations? You see, Uncle Graff; the sole excuse of wealthy men is that they spend a great deal, so as to throw their superabundant riches into general circulation. It would give me pleasure to see my father fling money out of the window, since he has so much. Those in the street would pick it up, and their momentary wretchedness would be relieved, at any rate. I should be glad if he would order statues of sculptors, and pictures of artists, and set rolling all the wealth now being piled up in the safes. How can you expect me to be interested in the shares of such and such a company? What does this paper represent in my eyes, if not the labour of a whole crowd of workmen, who toil and sweat to produce dividends which will enrich the shareholders? Uncle Graff, all this is neither moral nor just, nor even human! And I believe that a prodigal son like myself is the just ransom, from a social point of view, of a treasure-hoarder like my father.”
“But consider, my little Marcel, your father’s work enriches, and his wealth strengthens the country. It is the resources of the rich which keep up the vigour of a nation in time of national peril. Your father is a citizen useful by reason of his wealth, just as an inventor is by his genius, or a general by his talent for war. It is your father who will give the inventor funds to perfect his invention, and who will pay for the improved cannons and guns of the soldier. Every man has his function in life, as in society. And, I can assure you, your father is not one of the most despicable.”
“Uncle Graff, I speak sentiment to you, and you reply with political economy. It is impossible for us to come to an agreement. We are both right, only we are not speaking of the same thing.”
“Neither are we of the same generation. Ideas change several times in a single century, and one generation does not reason like the following. Your father and I have seen the war of 1870, invasion and ruin on every side, and we remember what a ransom we had to pay. That has made us parsimonious for the rest of our days. You came into the world only when prosperity had returned; you have been brought up under the breath of Republican ideas. Your thoughts are quite different from ours; you are an advocate for equality. We are nothing of the kind. My father inspired in me respect for caste. I have less consideration for a tradesman than for a mill-proprietor, more respect for a lawyer, a magistrate, or a notary, than for a painter or man of letters. It is my nature. I cannot change if I would. I am well aware that ideas are changing all round me, but I shall die impenitent. Your generation has no bump of veneration as ours had. You consider yourself on the same footing as an elderly man, famous and respected, and you treat him on the most familiar terms. That is something which would be impossible for me, any more than I should expect the foreman at the works to look upon me as his equal, and pat me familiarly on the shoulder. Possibly you and your companions may be right, but I don’t think so. At any rate we shall see what your children will be like, if you have any, for even family life is another institution quite out of fashion now.”
“Well, uncle, you have a very effective way of discussing, without giving yourself any pretensions! Father would long ago have called me a fool, without offering the slightest argument. With you, it is different, and when I listen to you I am by no means sure that I am right. Besides, you are so kind and tolerant, Uncle Graff, that I do not feel myself capable of resisting you for any length of time!”
“Ah, you little rogue! Now you are flattering me; you know how to make me do as you wish. At bottom you are a sly fox, and I believe you trick the lot of us!”