Nordenholt's Million — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Nordenholt's Million
John Stuart Mill · en
“But, as I told you, I never had much interest in politics. I like real
things; and the political game is more than half make-believe. I still
have my seat in the House; but I think they are gladdest when I am not
there.
“Well, I am afraid I’m making a long story of it; but I think you will
see the drift of it now. Politics failed to give me what I wanted. I
had no turn for the routine of it; and I had no wish to be involved in
all the petty manœuvres upon which the nursing of a majority depends.
Mind you, I could have done it better than any of them, with that
peculiar bent of mine. They consult me whenever a crisis arises; and
I can generally pull them through. After all, it’s a case of handling
men, there as everywhere else.
“However, I wanted something better to amuse me than the squaring of
some nonentity with a knighthood or the pacification of some indignant
office-seeker who had been passed over. I wanted to feel myself pitted
against men who really were experts in their own line. And that was how
I came to take up finance in earnest.”
He paused again and lighted a fresh cigar. While he was doing so, I
watched his face. In any other man, his autobiographic sketch would
have seemed egotistical; and possibly I have raised that impression in
my reproduction of it; for I can only give the sense of what he said. I
cannot put on paper the tones of his voice--the faint tinge of contempt
with which he spoke of his triumphs, as though they were child’s
play. Nor can I do more than indicate here and there that peculiar
sensation of duality which his talk took on more and more clearly as
he proceeded. It was as though the Nordenholt whom I saw before me
were telling his story whilst over behind him stood some greater
personality, following the narrative and tracing out in it the clues
which were to lead on to some events still in the distant future.
“Finance, Flint,” he continued. “That was the field where I came into
my own at last. Money in itself is nothing, nothing whatever. But the
making of money, the duel of brain against brain with not even the
counters on the table, that’s the great game. The higher branches of
finance are simply a combination of arithmetic and psychology. They’re
divorced absolutely from any idea of material gain or loss. Railways,
steamship lines, coal, oil, wheat, cotton or wool--do you imagine that
one thinks of these concrete things while one plays the game? Not at
all. They are the merest pawns. The whole affair is compressed into
groups of figures and the glimpses of the other man’s brain which one
gets here and there throughout the operations. And I played a straight
game, Flint; no small investor was ever ruined through my manœuvres. I
doubt if any other financier can say as much. I went into the thing as
a game, a big, risky game for my own hand; and I refused to gamble in
the savings of little men. I took my gains from the big men who opposed
me, not from the swarm of innocents.”