‘Wealth is the great power, after all,’ resumed Beattie, ‘even in politics. Name ten famous men in the country who are not rich, or at least rich enough to live as wealthy people do. You can’t.’ ‘There’s Ruskin.’ ‘Ruskin was rich, rich enough, at least, to travel and spend his time as he liked, or he never could have become famous. Years ago, with diligence and some ability, a man could push his way to the front. But the crowd is too thick for that now.’ ‘But, surely, eminence in one’s profession----’ ‘Ay, but how is that attained?’ ‘By learning it thoroughly, and----’ Beattie burst into a hoarse laugh. ‘My dear fellow, you have the simplest notions. Never mind; you’ll know better in time. Learning! Now, look here. Take our own profession. That little drunken beggar in our office, MacGowan, knows more law than most men with wigs on their heads I have come across--more than many a Q.C. I dare say he told you as much himself.’ ‘He did,’ said Alec, with a laugh. ‘And he gets eighty or ninety pounds a year. Take my own case. I know as much, and am as good a man of business (though I say it myself) as any of my governors. They give me three hundred a year, while young Hatchett has as many thousands. And what then? His tailor has more than twice as much as he has. I know it for a fact.’ ‘I never thought it mattered very much what a man has,’ said Alec serenely. Beattie looked at him curiously, and went on: ‘You are ambitious, then? And you think learning, diligence, and so on, will help you up the ladder?’ ‘That’s what I mean to try,’ said Alec with a laugh, and something of a blush. ‘It is impossible, or next to it. How many men, able men, well-educated men, do you think there are in London, grinding away at law, or writing books, or painting pictures, or designing buildings till their hair is gray? Who ever hears of them, or thinks of them? They will never reach even the first rung of the ladder. Never.’ ‘How, then, do men get on?’ Beattie lifted his eyebrows. ‘Some, a few, have exceptional gifts, and when they do get a chance they let it be seen. But, as a rule, those who come to the front don’t push their way through the crowd; they climb over other men’s heads. They hang on to what men they do know, and flatter or bother them into giving them the opportunity they want. Then, when they have got it, they make the most of it. They never lose a chance of advertising themselves. Better, they say, be spoken of as a cad or a fool, than not be spoken of at all. They never lose an opportunity of sticking a spoke in a rival’s wheel; and they will half ruin a man one minute, and meet him with a “Well, old man,” the next, as if they were the greatest friends in the world.’ Alec’s face wore an expression of deep disgust.