Clichtoue, however, as well as his friends the Lamennais and Montalemberts of the period, confined himself to counsels and prognostics, which indeed the future was in great part to justify; he had not yet discovered the exact formula. He had it at the tip of his tongue, but could not give it utterance; it seemed as though in France the words ‘beauty’ and ‘love’ were no words for a man or a churchman. These noble and lofty words were to come from a higher sphere, and from women’s lips. It was Margaret of France who at last uttered them, and they were echoed around her. Here we find the remedy so ardently sought for against materialism, as Jean Bouchet explains it on Margaret’s behalf: “To purify the world, to eliminate its coarser elements; to give wealth only the lowest place as a source of social distinction, and even then only on condition that the plutocrat lives nobly, that is to say, unselfishly, and makes noble deeds his constant study.” True nobility is not a cockade, a label, a name, but a moral reality; “it springs from the soul, and not from wealth.” Noble and lofty spirits are recognised precisely by their innate simplicity; they leave the gildings, the pompous blazonments, to “the sons of swineherds, sempsters, stockingers, and other mechanical folk. But those who are illustrious by long descent reveal their nobility beyond possibility of mistake, for they have in them something, I know not what, of naïve goodwill that manifestly separates them from the arrogant assumptions of false nobles.” Spirited, showy, a genuine blue-blood, restive under marital authority, but quivering to her inmost fibres at the slightest appeal of a refined sentiment, Margaret of France remained obstinately faithful to these principles, finding in them the pole-star that guided her steps throughout life. The words we last quoted were uttered in circumstances which give them a special force, namely, in the funeral oration of Scaevola de Sainte-Marthe, who thought he could cast upon the princess’s tomb no sweeter flowers, none more likely to blossom eternally. Margaret herself never lost an opportunity of emphasising with all her force the terrible fear she had of the power of money. Aimer l’argent, Sinon pour s’en aider, c’est servir les idoles![136] In regard to those who deal with humanity like brokers, and believe that happiness is purchasable, she gives vent to passionate apostrophes worthy of the most ardent Christian socialists: Ilz ont plaisirs tant qu’ils en veulent prendre, Ilz ont honneurs s’ilz y veulent prétendre, Ilz ont des biens plus qu’il ne leur en fault.[137]