This remark provoked me not a little.
“Do you consider me empty-headed?” I asked with some vexation.
“Not at present. My dear Tempest, do not let either the Tokay we have been drinking, or the cognac we are going to drink, speak for you in such haste! I assure you I do not think you empty-headed,—on the contrary, your head, I believe from what I have heard, has been and is full of ideas,—excellent ideas, original ideas, which the world of [p 33] conventional criticism does not want. But whether these ideas will continue to germinate in your brain, or whether, with the full purse, they will cease, is now the question. Great originality and inspiration, strange to say, seldom endow the millionaire. Inspiration is supposed to come from above,—money from below! In your case however both originality and inspiration may continue to flourish and bring forth fruit,—I trust they may. It often happens, nevertheless that when bags of money fall to the lot of aspiring genius, God departs and the devil walks in. Have you never heard that?”
“Never!” I answered smiling.
“Well, of course the saying is foolish, and sounds doubly ridiculous in this age when people believe in neither God nor devil. It implies however that one must choose an up or a down,—genius is the Up, money is the Down. You cannot fly and grovel at the same instant.”
“The possession of money is not likely to cause a man to grovel”—I said—“It is the one thing necessary to strengthen his soaring powers and lift him to the greatest heights.”
“You think so?” and my host lit his cigar with a grave and pre-occupied air—“Then I’m afraid, you don’t know much about what I shall call natural psychics. What belongs to the earth tends earthwards,—surely you realize that? Gold most strictly belongs to the earth,—you dig it out of the ground,—you handle it and dispose of it in solid wedges or bars—it is a substantial metal enough. Genius belongs to nobody knows where,—you cannot dig it up or pass it on, or do anything with it except stand and marvel—it is a rare visitant and capricious as the wind, and generally makes sad havoc among the conventionalities of men. It is as I said an ‘upper’ thing, beyond earthly smells and savours,—and those who have it always live in unknown high latitudes. But money is a perfectly level commodity,—level with the ground;—when you have much of it, you come down solidly on your flat soles and down you stay!” [p 34]
I laughed.
“Upon my word you preach very eloquently against wealth!” I said—“You yourself are unusually rich,—are you sorry for it?”
“No, I am not sorry, because being sorry would be no use”—he returned—“And I never waste my time. But I am telling you the truth—Genius and great riches hardly ever pull together. Now I, for example,—you cannot imagine what great capabilities I had once!—a long time ago—before I became my own master!”
“And you have them still I am sure”—I averred, looking expressively at his noble head and fine eyes.