“Now it is, of course, obvious that we cannot all follow exactly in the footsteps of this great railway monarch.  The precise opportunities that fell to him do not occur to us.  Circumstances have changed.  But, although this is so, still, in our own sphere and in our own circumstances, we can follow his general methods; we can seize those opportunities that are given us, and give ourselves a very fair chance of attaining riches.”

In such strange utterances we see quite clearly what is really at the bottom of all these articles and books.  It is not mere business; it is not even mere cynicism.  It is mysticism; the horrible mysticism of money.  The writer of that passage did not really have the remotest notion of how Vanderbilt made his money, or of how anybody else is to make his.  He does, indeed, conclude his remarks by advocating some scheme; but it has nothing in the world to do with Vanderbilt.  He merely wished to prostrate himself before the mystery of a millionaire.  For when we really worship anything, we love not only its clearness but its obscurity.  We exult in its very invisibility.  Thus, for instance, when a man is in love with a woman he takes special pleasure in the fact that a woman is unreasonable.  Thus, again, the very pious poet, celebrating his Creator, takes pleasure in saying that God moves in a mysterious way.  Now, the writer of the paragraph which I have quoted does not seem to have had anything to do with a god, and I should not think (judging by his extreme unpracticality) that he had ever been really in love with a woman.  But the thing he does worship—­Vanderbilt—­he treats in exactly this mystical manner.  He really revels in the fact his deity Vanderbilt is keeping a secret from him.  And it fills his soul with a sort of transport of cunning, an ecstasy of priestcraft, that he should pretend to be telling to the multitude that terrible secret which he does not know.

Speaking about the instinct that makes people rich, the same writer remarks—–­

“In olden days its existence was fully understood.  The Greeks enshrined it in the story of Midas, of the ‘Golden Touch.’  Here was a man who turned everything he laid his hands upon into gold.  His life was a progress amidst riches.  Out of everything that came in his way he created the precious metal.  ‘A foolish legend,’ said the wiseacres of the Victorian age.  ‘A truth,’ say we of to-day.  We all know of such men.  We are ever meeting or reading about such persons who turn everything they touch into gold.  Success dogs their very footsteps.  Their life’s pathway leads unerringly upwards.  They cannot fail.”