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A man in Michigan who was on the verge of bankruptcy, having lost heavily in real estate speculation, heard "Acres of Diamonds," and started in, as the lecture advises, right at home to rebuild his fortunes. Instead of giving up, he began the same business again, fought a plucky fight and is now president of the bank and a leading financier of the town.
The great London financier, and he, and Monsieur Logotheti exchanged casual remarks which all the men who were interested in politics referred to mysterious loans that must affect the armaments of the combined powers and the peace of Europe. Mr.
Guy Dalton, a man received everywhere with open arms, as "one of the rising men of the time, my dear sir," a financier of distinction, indeed, and a promoter of such skill that he had only to issue a prospectus, or wink knowingly on the street, or take you aside at the club and whisper confidentially to you, when everything he had issued, winked at, or whispered about would go up with a rush, and countless men and women a goodly number were women would be hundreds, nay, thousands of pounds the richer before the week was out.
Volterra was mildly anti-clerical in politics, but he was particularly fond of dealing with the Vatican for real estate. The Vatican was a most admirable house of business, in his estimation, keen, punctual and always solvent; it was good for a financier to be associated with such an institution.
On rare occasions, when in town, the financier dined out, limiting himself to a few houses. Once in a long while he attended what are known as banquets, such as those given by the Chamber of Commerce, though he generally refused to speak. Hodder, through Mr. Parr's intervention, had gone to one of these, ably and breezily presided over by the versatile Mr. Plimpton.
It's 'To hell with the Swedes, we'll drive 'em into the sea." The financier nodded. His armour was impenetrable. "The Germans said much," he said. "That's all right, these folks aren't Germans," came the prompt retort, as Idepski picked up his hat and gloves. "No." Hellbeam remained seated. It was not his way to speed a departing visitor. "I'm glad. Oh, yes."
But if a man gets it into his consciousness that he is the child, not of a nobleman, not of an earthly ruler, not of a great statesman, warrior, scientist, or financier, but of the living God who presides over the universe, how large, how generous, how exalted, and how fine his attitude toward life and all his conduct needs must be.
Not only were his praises proclaimed by the silver- tongued Bossuet, but he was served by such men as Colbert, the financier and reformer; Louvois, the military organizer; Vauban, the master builder of fortifications; Conde and Turenne, unconquerable generals; and by a host of literary lights, whom he patronized and pensioned, and who cast about his person a glamour of renown.
Since Philip the Second of Spain published his views on "financiering and unhallowed practices with bills of exchange," and illustrated them by repudiating his debts, there has been a chorus of opinion singing the same tune with variations, and describing the financier as a bloodsucker who makes nothing, and consumes an inordinate amount of the good things that are made by other people.
Hundreds of old-timers had failed to locate on Bonanza and Eldorado, while Swedes and chechaquos had come in on the moose-pasture and blindly staked millions. It was life, and life was a savage proposition at best. Men in civilization robbed because they were so made. They robbed just as cats scratched, famine pinched, and frost bit. So it was that Daylight became a successful financier.
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