The French business man does not understand this kind of idealism. As soon as he has reached a position of suffi cient importance in his own industry, he has only one pre occupation : to come to an understanding with his col leagues in order to put an end to all competition in the home market (that is the only kind of association he is able to conceive), then to obtain from the Government a pro tective tariff so that he may be free of all foreign competi tion. After this, having abolished risk, he ceases from effort. Every opportunity of extending his business which has the least element of adventure seems to him an unnecessary risk ; every effort towards technical improve ment seems to threaten his security. His maxim is to produce little in order to sell dear. It is enough for him to exploit the national consumer who is delivered over to him by his parliamentary accomplices. What does he care if France, as a result, grows weak and exhausted, if her industries are jeopardised and the cost of living increases, if all fruitful labour grows daily more difficult and the nation slowly sinks in the midst of more vigorous neighbours ? It is not his concern.
At the bottom of his heart he believes that the proper function of the country is to defend his capital. He has no idea that his capital may have duties towards the country.
At the head of an enterprise or of a joint-stock company, he recognises obligations to none save his shareholders and associates. As for the general interest of the country, that is the business of Parliament, the Government, the bureau cracy—all of which, moreover, he endeavours to corrupt by the thousand means in his power.
The motto of the old aristocrats, " Noblesse oblige," does not exist for him. Neither has it occurred to any one of us that " Richesse oblige." While even the hardened American capitalists, the Rockefellers and the Carnegies, spend their millions, more or less usefully, in works of education, hygiene, charity, showing thereby that they recognise duties to society, our business men content them selves with donations to the press or to party funds with the object of consolidating their own privileges.
For them money is an end, not a means. They spend it in a vain and graceless luxury. They busy themselves in selfish pleasures ; they think of nothing but increasing those millions which condemn their descendants, for lack of incentive to effort, to a fatal stultification.
Now this " ignoble wealth," as Roosevelt called it, brings them universal consideration. This is the great misfortune of our democracy. In Britain, or America, a very rich man who did nothing at all for the good of his country would be despised by his peers. And this fact alone, apart from any personal idealism, compels him to action. In France, a millionaire who devoted himself to some unselfish work would be considered, in his own circles, as a fool or a madman.
There are some who think that this absence of ambition in our upper classes saves us, at least, from the dangers of imperialism, and that their very idleness is a pledge of security. Unfortunately, it is an illusion. When a country is dependent upon its neighbours for an essential raw material it is no longer master of its own destiny. The weak are dragged, willy-nilly, into the battle of the strong, receiving more than their share of blows, less than their share of booty. For in the day of triumph the conquerors share the plunder, not according to admitted sacrifices, but according to the resultant power that each can wield. This is the lesson taught only too clearly by our recent victory.
To work, to act, to dare, is still the best way for nations, as for individuals, to win independence, security and the respect of others.
Our people, who have developed such qualities of energy, endurance and courage during the War, lack only worthy leaders.
If such leaders are not forthcoming, the glory of our artists and men of science, the superiority of our artisans, our culture and our national genius will be no more than a splendid sunset heralding the slow twilight of decadence.