Desiree Armfeldt:
Hello, mother.
Madame Arnfeldt:
To what do I owe the honor of this visit?
Desiree Armfeldt:
I just thought I'd pop out and see you both, is that so surprising?
Madame Arnfeldt:
Yes.
Desiree Armfeldt:
You're in one of your bitchy moods, I see.
Madame Arnfeldt:
If you've come to take Fredrika back, the answer is no. I do not object to the immorality of your life; merely to its sloppiness. Since I have been tidy enough to have acquired a sizeable mansion and a fleet of servants, it seems only common sense that my granddaughter should reap the advantages of it. Isn't that so, child?
Fredrika Arnfeldt:
I really don't know, Grandmother.
Madame Arnfeldt:
Oh, yes, you do, dear.
It is their mores, then, that make the Americans of the United States...capable of maintaining the rule of democracy.... Too much importance is attached to laws and too little to mores.... I am convinced that the luckiest of geographical circumstances and the best of laws cannot maintain a constitution in spite of mores, whereas the latter can turn even the most unfavorable circumstances...to advantage.... If I have not succeeded in making the reader feel the importance I attach to the practical experience of the Americans, to their habits, laws, and, in a word, their mores, I have failed in the main object of my work. -Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in American
Am I right in suggesting that ordinary life is a mean between these extremes, that the noble man devotes his material wealth to lofty ends, the advancement of science, or art, or some such true ideal; and that the base man does the opposite by concentrating all his abilities on the amassing of wealth?'
Exactly; that is the real distinction between the artist and the bourgeois, or, if you prefer it, between the gentleman and the cad. Money, and the things money can buy, have no value, for there is no question of creation, but only of exchange. Houses, lands, gold, jewels, even existing works of art, may be tossed about from one hand to another; they are so, constantly. But neither you nor I can write a sonnet; and what we have, our appreciation of art, we did not buy. We inherited the germ of it, and we developed it by the sweat of our brows. The possession of money helped us, but only by giving us time and opportunity and the means of travel. Anyhow, the principle is clear; one must sacrifice the lower to the higher, and, as the Greeks did with their oxen, one must fatten and bedeck the lower, so that it may be the worthier offering.
