In January 1912 in an article on “British Banking Interests in South America,” the South American Journal advised its readers that while British banks were unquestionably profitable investments they did not have the field entirely to themselves, “for they not only had to face the competition of local, in many cases State-owned banks, but also the competition of several very successful and strong German banking companies, such as the Deutsche Bank, etc.” Nevertheless, British banks had the advantage of considerable experience in the business, an experience at that time dating back nearly fifty years. This statement gives direct expression to the theme of this paper, namely, the continuing prosperity of the British overseas banks in Latin America despite the competition of the more recently established, but nonetheless very successful, German overseas banks. Moreover, aside from the inevitable competition from local Latin American banks, it is to be noted that the only foreign competitors mentioned are the German banks. This was because the several Spanish, French, and Italian banks in the region had much more the structure and character of Latin American institutions based on investment and support from the local immigrant communities of those nations rather than the structure of overseas banks run from Europe.

The Scottish capitalist Samuel Laing, who found great comfort in the belief that in Britain “there is no feeling for the fine arts, no foundation for them, no esteem for them” (Porter, p. 265), raises some important questions with regard the relationship between capitalism and the arts, particularly for Victorian Britain between 1840 and 1880, and, as well, in a more general sense for society today. Is free market capitalism antithetical to culture? Was Britain, in her golden age of capitalism a cultural desert? Was Victorian culture essentially a culture of “rank escapism?” (Porter, p. 254) Did the industrial capitalists regard art and learning as harmful, time wasting, and detrimental to civic virtue? Bernard Porter, in reflecting on Laing's work, suggests yes to all of these questions, and further suggests that Laing just may be the guide to lead us to some important revelations about the historic relationship between capitalism and the arts.

I confess at the outset that I am somewhat surprised at the direction my response to Bernard Porter's vigorous and provocative essay has taken. That I find his acceptance of Laing's Theorem (“Art flourishes in inverse proportion to Capitalism”) and his assertion that “free market capitalism [is] fundamentally philistine” (p. 253) reductionist may possibly be due to the fact that, as I proofread this, Texaco, one of capitalism's giants, is about to air its 1,000th opera broadcast on the New York Times' WQXR (one of the glories of commercially-sponsored East Coast culture), or that my college, like many others, receives generous funding from philanthropic capitalism, and indeed would not even exist without the vision and culture of a “bourgeois” brewer, Matthew Vassar. But there are other, deeper, reasons. I say my response surprises me, for I once thought that Matthew Arnold had it right and that the Victorian middle classes were uncultured (“bourgeois” = “philistine”), and that “free market capitalism” was infused with the conviction (Arnold's scorn notwithstanding) that civilization could be measured in, even achieved through, coal or cotton. This was nowhere better expressed than by Richard Cobden in his rhapsodic paean to Manchester's civilizing mission.

I found Professors Wohl's and Schmiechen's replies informative and stimulating. Unfortunately I do not think they would upset the dreadful Laing. Before I go on to explain why, however, I should correct two misunderstandings.

Firstly: I offered “Laing's theorem” as a hypothesis, not necessarily as my view. Nowhere in my original article did I indicate my “acceptance” of it (Wohl). It is simply an idea to be tested, as a possible explanation for what I do regard as high Victorian Britain's artistic poverty, of which more in a moment. Secondly: I do not regard myself as a “basher” of Victorianism, of the kind that used to be common a few years ago. That is Professor Schmiechen's charge. As I understand and indeed remember it, the old bashers deplored Victorian taste. I on the contrary have a consuming passion for it. In particular, I have a high regard for Victorian architecture, which is one of the two areas I specifically exempted (though Professor Wohl has missed this) from my strictures against the quality of the high Victorians' cultural achievement. For what it is worth — and it is not worth much, being only my own personal opinion, but I feel I need to establish my credentials here — I would place All Saint's, Margaret Street, London, by Butterfield, high on my list of the most inspiring buildings anywhere in the world, and St. Mary's Church, Studley Royal, Yorkshire, by Burges, among the half-dozen most beautiful. There is dedication for you. This may lower one or two philo-Victorians' hackles. I hope so.