I sat at the table and agreed.
That was our method of equilibrium at the iridescent climax of the
bubble.
You perceive now, however, the nature of the services for which this
fantastic community have him unmanageable wealth and power and real
respect. It was all a monstrous payment for courageous fiction, a
gratuity in return for the one reality of human life--illusion. We gave
them a feeling of hope and profit; we sent a tidal wave of water and
confidence into their stranded affairs. "We mint Faith, George," said my
uncle one day. "That's what we do. And by Jove we got to keep minting!
We been making human confidence ever since I drove the first cork of
Tono-Bungay."
"Coining" would have been a better word than minting! And yet, you
know, in a sense he was right. Civilisation is possible only through
confidence, so that we can bank our money and go unarmed about the
streets. The bank reserve or a policeman keeping order in a jostling
multitude of people, are only slightly less impudent bluffs than my
uncle's prospectuses. They couldn't for a moment "make good" if the
quarter of what they guarantee was demanded of them.
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