I might just as fairly cite him as describing our situation to be
'hollow in its basis, artificial in its superstructure, flimsy in its
general result.' Since you value names, I will cite you one man that
has commented on the situation; not, like Mr. Robinson, by misty
sentences, each neutralizing the other, but by consistent acts: a man,
gentlemen, whose operations have always been numerous and courageous
in less _prosperous_ times, yet now he is _out of
everything_ but a single insurance company."
"Who is the gentleman?"
"It is not a gentleman; it is a blackguard," said the exact youth.
"You excite my curiosity. Who is the capitalist, then, that stands
aloof?"
"Nathan Meyer Rothschild."
"The devil."
Old Skinner started sitting. "Rothschild hanging back. Oh, master, for
Heavens sake don't let us try to be wiser than those devils of Jews.
Mr. Richard, I bore up pretty well against your book-learning, but now
you've hit me with a thunderbolt. Let us get in gold, and keep as snug
as mice, and not lend one of them a farthing to save them from the
gallows. Those Jews smell farther than a Christian can see. Don't
let's have any more 1793's, sir, for Heaven's sake. Listen to Mr.
Richard; he has been abroad, and come back with a head."
"Be quiet, Skinner. You seem to possess private information, Richard."
"I employ three myrmidons to hunt it; it will be useful by and by."
"It may be now. Remark on these proposals."
"Well, sir, two of them are based on gold mines, shares at a fabulous
premium.
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