'Not so very much,' he said. 'And it is money I can easily spare. I thought your approach was interesting, and amateurism annoys me wherever it occurs. I almost consider it my duty to eradicate it. And if not my duty, then my hobby.'
'An expensive hobby.'
He shrugged
'So expensive I do not quite believe you.'
'Call me a patriot, then.'
'I know little of your companies, Mr Stone. Such things are not my area of expertise. But I remember reading that you have supplied weapons to every single enemy our army and navy might face. Are those the actions of a patriot?'
It was an insulting remark, but deliberately made. I needed to find out what I was getting myself into.
'It is not the task of my companies to make Britain more secure, it is the duty of Britain to make my companies more secure. You have the relationship the wrong way round,' he said quietly. 'It is the task of a company to generate capital. That is its beginning and its end, and it is foolish and sentimental to apply morality to it, let alone patriotism.'
'Morality must apply to everything. Even the making of money.'
'A strange statement for a banker, if I may say so. And it is not so. Morality applies only to people. Not to animals and still less to machines.'
'But you are a man,' I pointed out, 'you manufacture weapons of war, which you sell to all who want to buy them.'
'Not quite,' he said with a smile. 'They must be able to afford them as well. But you are right. I do. But consider. If one of my torpedoes is fired, and hits its target, many people will die. A terrible thing. But is the torpedo to blame? It is but a machine, designed to travel from point A to point B and then detonate. If it does so, it is a good machine which fulfils its purpose. If not, it is a failure. Where is there any space for morality in that?
'And a company is also merely a machine, supplying the wants of others. Why not blame the governments who buy those torpedoes and order them to be used, or the people who vote for those governments?
'Should I stop building these weapons, and deny governments the chance to murder their citizens more cheaply and efficiently? Certainly not. I am obliged to make them. The laws of economics dictate that. If I do not, then a demand will go unsatisfied, or it may be that the money is spent on a less worthy machine, which would be an inefficient use of capital. If men do not have torpedoes, they will use cannon. If there are no cannon, they will use bows and arrows. If there are no arrows, they will use stones and if there are no stones, they will bite each other to death. I merely convert desire into its most efficient form and extract capital from the process.
'That is what companies are for. They are designed to multiply capital; what they make is irrelevant. Torpedoes, food, clothes, furniture. It is all the same. To that end they will do anything to survive and prosper. Can they make more money employing slave labour? If so, they must do so. Can they increase profits by selling things which kill others? They must do so again. What if they lay waste the landscape, ruin forests, uproot communities and poison the rivers? They are obliged to do all these things, if they can increase their profits.
'A company is a moral imbecile. It has no sense of right or wrong. Any restraints have to come from the outside, from laws and customs which forbid it from doing certain things of which we disapprove. But it is a restraint which reduces profits. Which is why all companies will strain forever to break the bounds of the law, to act unfettered in their pursuit of advantage. That is the only way they can survive because the more powerful will devour the weak. And because it is in the nature of capital, which is wild, longs to be free and chafes at each and every restriction imposed on it.'
'You justify selling weapons to your country's enemies?'
'To the French, you mean?'
'Yes.'
'And the Germans and the Italians and the Austrians?' he added.
'Yes. You justify that?'
'But they are not my country's enemies,' he said with a faint smile. 'We are not at war.'
'We may well be soon.'
'True enough. But with which country, do you think?'
'Does it matter?'
'No,' he admitted. 'I would sell them the weapons even if I knew that we would be at war with them in six months' time. It is not my job to conduct foreign policy. Such sales are not illegal and anything which is not forbidden is permissible. If the Government decided to ban sales to France, then I would comply with the law. At the moment, for example, I can see a great deal of money to be made in building shipyards for the Russian Empire. But the government does not wish Russia to have a shipbuilding industry. I would like to supply the Tsar with our new submarines, as the Russian Government would pay handsomely for them. Again, I do not.'
'There is a law against that?'
