The Spenders: A Tale of the Third GenerationWilson, Harry Leon
General
The Spenders: A Tale of the Third Generation
Wilson, Harry Leon
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
History repeats itself so cleverly, with a variance of stage-settings
and accessories so cunning, that the repetition seldom bores, and is,
indeed, frequently undetected. Thus, the descent of the Barbarians upon
a decadent people is a little _tour de force_ that has been performed
again and again since the oldest day. But because the assault nowadays
is made not with force of arms we are prone to believe it is no longer
made at all;--as if human ways had changed a bit since those ugly,
hairy tribes from the Northern forests descended upon the Roman empire.
And yet the mere difference that the assault is now made with force of
money in no way alters the process nor does it permit the result to
vary. On the surface all is cordiality and peaceful negotiation.
Beneath is the same immemorial strife, the life-and-death
struggle,--pitiless, inexorable.
What would have been a hostile bivouac within the city's gates, but for
the matter of a few centuries, is now, to select an example which
remotely concerns us, a noble structure on Riverside Drive, facing the
lordly Hudson and the majestic Palisades that form its farther wall.
And, for the horde of Goths and Visigoths, Huns and Vandals, drunkenly
reeling in the fitful light of camp-fires, chanting weird battle-runes,
fighting for captive vestals, and bickering in uncouth tongues over the
golden spoils, what have we now to make the parallel convince? Why, the
same Barbarians, actually; the same hairy rudeness, the same unrefined,
all-conquering, animal force; a red-faced, big-handed lot, imbued with
hearty good nature and an easy tolerance for the ways of those upon
whom they have descended.
Here are chiefs of renown from the farthest fastnesses; they and their
curious households: the ironmonger from Pittsburg, the gold-miner from
Dawson, the copper chief from Butte, the silver chief from Denver, the
cattle chief from Oklahoma, lord of three hundred thousand good acres
and thirty thousand cattle, the lumber prince from Michigan, the
founder of a later dynasty in oil, from Texas. And, for the unaesthetic
but effective Attila, an able fashioner of pork products from Chicago.
Here they make festival, carelessly, unafraid, unmolested. For, in the
lapse of time, the older peoples have learned not only the folly of
resisting inevitables, but that the huge and hairy invaders may be
treated and bartered with not unprofitably. Doubtless it often results
from this amity that the patrician strain is corrupted by the alien
admixture,--but business has been business since as many as two persons
met on the face of the new earth.
For example, this particular shelter is builded upon land which one of
the patrician families had held for a century solely because it could
not be disposed of. Yet the tribesmen came, clamouring for palaces, and
now this same land, with some adjoining areas of trifling extent,
produces an income that will suffice to maintain that family almost in
its ancient and befitting estate.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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