irious
delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad.

It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was
of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even
its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent
dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung
grasses.

Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The
wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its
original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which
were first well within his comprehension.

Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan,
Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public.
Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of
fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be
accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial
system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be
seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but
a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one
glorious hope.

The Company of the West--this it was that made John Law's heart throb.
America--its trade--its future! John Law, dead now and gone--he was the
colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality;
and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid
dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day.

But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his
success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came
the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to
mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man
were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from
ruin.

Philippe of Orleans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and
more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had
more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this
abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent,
all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to
his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than
those of Philippe of Orleans, receiving in effect faithlessness in
return for insincerity.

Philippe of Orleans could not see why, since credit based on specie made