Life Without and Life Within Part 24

Our society is ostensibly under the rule of the precepts of Jesus. We will then suppose a youth sufficiently imbued with these, to understand what is conveyed under the parables of the unjust steward, and the prodigal son, as well as the denunciations of the opulent Jews. He understands that it is needful to preserve purity and teachableness, since of those most like little children is the kingdom of heaven; mercy for the sinner, since there is peculiar joy in heaven at the salvation of such; perpetual care for the unfortunate, since only to the just steward shall his possessions be pardoned. Imbued with such love, the young man joins the active,--we will say, in choosing an instance,--joins the commercial world.

His views of his profession are not those which make of the many a herd, not superior, except in the far reach of their selfish interests, to the animals; mere calculating, money-making machines.

He sees in commerce a representation of most important interests, a grand school that may teach the heart and soul of the civilized world to a willing, thinking mind. He plays his part in the game, but not for himself alone; he sees the interests of all mankind engaged with his, and remembers them while he furthers his own. His intellectual discernment, no less than his moral, thus teaching the undesirableness of lying and stealing, he does not practise or connive at the falsities and meannesses so frequent among his fellows; he suffers many turns of the wheel of fortune to pa.s.s unused, since he cannot avail himself of them and keep clean his hands. What he gains is by superior a.s.siduity, skill in combination and calculation, and quickness of sight. His gains are legitimate, so far as the present state of things permits any gains to be.

Nor is this honorable man denied his due rank in the most corrupt state of society. Here, happily, we draw from life, and speak of what we know.

Honesty is, indeed, the best policy, only it is so in the long run, and therefore a policy which a selfish man has not faith and patience to pursue. The influence of the honest man is in the end predominant, and the rogues who sneer because he will not shuffle the cards in _their_ way, are forced to bow to it at last.

But while thus conscientious and mentally-progressive, he does not forget to live. The sharp and care-worn faces, the joyless lives that throng the busy street, do not make him forget his need of tender affections, of the practices of bounty and love. His family, his acquaintance, especially those who are struggling with the difficulties of life, are not obliged to wait till he has acc.u.mulated a certain sum.

He is sunlight and dew to them now, day by day. No less do all in his employment prize and bless the just, the brotherly man. He dares not, would not, climb to power upon their necks. He requites their toil handsomely, always; if his success be unusual, they share the benefit.

Their comfort is cared for in all the arrangements for their work. He takes care, too, to be personally acquainted with those he employs, regarding them, not as mere tools of his purpose, but as human beings also; he keeps them in his eye, and if it be in his power to supply their need of consolation, instruction, or even pleasure, they find they have a friend.

"Nonsense!" exclaims our sharp-eyed, thin-lipped antagonist. "Such a man would never get rich,--or even _get along_!"

You are mistaken, Mr. Stockjobber. Thus far many lines of our sketch are drawn from real life; though for the second part, which follows, we want, as yet, a worthy model.

We must imagine, then, our ideal merchant to have grown rich in some forty years of toil pa.s.sed in the way we have indicated. His hair is touched with white, but his form is vigorous yet. Neither _gourmandise_ nor the fever of gain has destroyed his complexion, quenched the light of his eye, or subst.i.tuted sneers for smiles. He is an upright, strong, sagacious, generous-looking man; and if his movements be abrupt, and his language concise, somewhat beyond the standard of beauty, he is still the gentleman; mercantile, but a mercantile n.o.bleman.

Our nation is not silly in striving for an aristocracy. Humanity longs for its upper cla.s.ses. But the silliness consists in making them out of clothes, equipage, and a servile imitation of foreign manners, instead of the genuine elegance and distinction that can only be produced by genuine culture. Shame upon the stupidity which, when all circ.u.mstances leave us free for the introduction of a real aristocracy such as the world never saw, bases its pretensions on, or makes its bow to the footman behind, the coach, instead of the person within it.

But our merchant shall be a real n.o.bleman, whose n.o.ble manners spring from a n.o.ble mind, whose fashions from a sincere, intelligent love of the beautiful.

We will also indulge the fancy of giving him a wife and children worthy of himself. Having lived in sympathy with him, they have acquired no taste for luxury; they do not think that the best use for wealth and power is in self-indulgence, but, on the contrary, that "it is more blessed to give than to receive."

He is now having one of those fine houses built, and, as in other things, proceeds on a few simple principles. It is substantial, for he wishes to give no countenance to the paper buildings that correspond with other worthless paper currency of a credit system. It is thoroughly finished and furnished, for he has a conscience about his house, as about the neatness of his person. All must be of a piece. Harmony and a wise utility are consulted, without regard to show. Still, as a rich man, we allow him reception-rooms, lofty, large, adorned with good copies of ancient works of art, and fine specimens of modern.

I admit, in this instance, the propriety of my n.o.bleman often choosing by advice of friends, who may have had more leisure and opportunity to acquire a sure appreciation of merit in these walks. His character being simple, he will, no doubt, appreciate a great part of what is truly grand and beautiful. But also, from imperfect culture, he might often reject what in the end he would have found most valuable to himself and others. For he has not done learning, but only acquired the privilege of helping to open a domestic school, in which he will find himself a pupil as well as a master. So he may well make use, in furnishing himself with the school apparatus, of the best counsel. The same applies to making his library a good one. Only there must be no sham; no pluming himself on possessions that represent his wealth, but the taste of others. Our n.o.bleman is incapable of pretension, or the airs of connoisseurship; his object is to furnish a home with those testimonies of a higher life in man, that may best aid to cultivate the same in himself and those a.s.sembled round him.

He shall also have a fine garden and greenhouses. But the flowers shall not be used only to decorate his apartments, or the hair of his daughters, but shall often bless, by their soft and exquisite eloquence, the poor invalid, or others whose sorrowful hearts find in their society a consolation and a hope which nothing else bestows. For flowers, the highest expression of the bounty of nature, declare that for all men, not merely labor, or luxury, but gentle, buoyant, ever-energetic joy, was intended, and bid us hope that we shall not forever be kept back from our inheritance.

All the persons who have aided in building up this domestic temple, from the artist who painted the ceilings to the poorest hodman, shall be well paid and cared for during its erection; for it is a necessary part of the happiness of our n.o.bleman, to feel that all concerned in creating his home are the happier for it.

We have said nothing about the architecture of the house, and yet this is only for want of room. We do consider it one grand duty of every person able to build a good house, also to aim at building a beautiful one. We do not want imitations of what was used in other ages, nations, and climates, but what is simple, n.o.ble, and in conformity with the wants of our own. Room enough, simplicity of design, and judicious adjustment of the parts to their uses and to the whole, are the first requisites; the ornaments are merely the finish on these. We hope to see a good style of civic architecture long before any material improvement in the country edifices, for reasons that would be tedious to enumerate here. Suffice it to say that we are far more anxious to see an American architecture than an American literature; for we are sure there is here already something individual to express.

Well, suppose the house built and equipped with man and horse. You may be sure my n.o.bleman gives his "hired help" good accommodations for their sleeping and waking hours,--baths, books, and some leisure to use them.

Nay, I a.s.sure you--and this a.s.surance also is drawn from life--that it is possible, even in our present social relations, for the man who does common justice, in these respects, to his fellows, and shows a friendly heart, that thoroughly feels service to be no degradation, but an honor, who believes

"A man's a MAN for a' that;"-- "Honor in the king the wisdom of his service, Honor in the serf the fidelity of his service,"--

to have around him those who do their work in serenity of mind, neither deceiving nor envying him whom circ.u.mstances have enabled to command their service. As to the carriage, that is used for the purpose of going to and fro in bad weather, or ill health, or haste, or for drives to enjoy the country. But my n.o.bleman and his family are too well born and bred not to prefer employing their own feet when possible. And their carriage is much appropriated to the use of poor invalids, even among the abhorred cla.s.s of poor relations, so that often they have not room in it for themselves, much less for flaunting dames and lazy dandies.

We need hardly add that, their attendants wear no liveries. They are aware that, in a society where none of the causes exist that justify this habit abroad, the practice would have no other result than to call up a sneer to the lips of the most complaisant "milor," when "Mrs.

Higginbottom's carriage stops the way," with its tawdry, ill-fancied accompaniments. _Will_ none of their "governors" tell our cits the aesopian fable of the donkey that tried to imitate the gambols of the little dog?

The wife of my n.o.bleman is so well matched with him that she has no need to be the better half. She is his almoner, his counsellor, and the priestess who keeps burning on the domestic hearth a fire from the fuel he collects in his out-door work, whose genial heart and aspiring flame comfort and animate all who come within its range.

His children are his ministers, whose leisure and various qualifications enable them to carry out his good thoughts. They hold all that they possess--time, money, talents, acquirements--on the principle of stewardship. They wake up the seeds of virtue and genius in all the young persons of their acquaintance; but the poorer cla.s.ses are especially their care. Among them they seek for those who are threatened with dying--"mute, inglorious" Hampdens and Miltons--but for their scrutiny and care; of these they become the teachers and patrons to the extent of their power. Such knowledge of the arts, sciences, and just principles of action as they have been favored with, they communicate, and thereby form novices worthy to fill up the ranks of the true American aristocracy.

And the house--it is a large one; a simple family does not fill its chambers. Some of them are devoted to the use of men of genius, who need a serene home, free from care, while they pursue their labors for the good of the world. Thus, as in the palaces of the little princes of Italy in a better day, these chambers become hallowed by the nativities of great thoughts; and the horoscopes of the human births that may take place there, are likely to read the better for it. Suffering virtue sometimes finds herself taken home here, instead of being sent to the almshouse, or presented with half a dollar and a ticket for coal, and finds upon my n.o.bleman's mattresses (for the wealth of Croesus would not lure him or his to sleep upon down) dreams of angelic protection which enable her to rise refreshed for the struggle of the morrow.

The uses of hospitality are very little understood among us, so that we fear generally there is a small chance of entertaining G.o.ds and angels unawares, as the Greeks and Hebrews did in the generous time of hospitality, when every man had a claim on the roof of fellow-man. Now, none is received to a bed and breakfast unless he come as "bearer of despatches" from His Excellency So-and-so.

But let us not be supposed to advocate the system of all work and no play, or to delight exclusively in the pedagogic and Goody-Two-Shoes vein. Reader, if any such accompany me to this scene of my vision, cheer up; I hear the sound of music in full band, and see the banquet prepared. Perhaps they are even dancing the polka and redowa in those airy, well-lighted rooms. In another they find in the acting of extempore dramas, arrangement of tableaux, little concerts or recitations, intermingled with beautiful national or fancy dances, some portion of the enchanting, refining, and enn.o.bling influence of the arts. The finest engravings on all subjects attend such as like to employ themselves more quietly, while those who can find a companion or congenial group to converse with, find also plenty of recesses and still rooms, with softened light, provided for their pleasure.

There is not on this side of the Atlantic--we dare our glove upon it--a more devout believer than ourselves in the worship of the Muses and Graces, both for itself, and its importance no less to the moral than to the intellectual life of a nation. Perhaps there is not one who has _so_ deep a feeling, or so many suggestions ready, in the fulness of time, to be hazarded on the subject.

But in order to such worship, what standard is there as to admission to the service? Talents of gold, or Delphian talents? fashion or elegance?

"standing" or the power to move gracefully from one position to another?

Our n.o.bleman did not hesitate; the handle to his door bell was not of gold, but mother-of-pearl, pure and prismatic.

If he did not go into the alleys to pick up the poor, they were not excluded, if qualified by intrinsic qualities to adorn the scene.

Neither were wealth or fashion a cause of exclusion, more than of admission. All depended on the person; yet he did not _seek_ his guests among the slaves of fashion, for he knew that persons highly endowed rarely had patience with the frivolities of that cla.s.s, but retired, and left it to be peopled mostly by weak and plebeian natures. Yet all depended on the individual. Was the person fair, n.o.ble, wise, brilliant, or even only youthfully innocent and gay, or venerable in a good old age, he or she was welcome. Still, as simplicity of character and some qualification positively good, healthy, and natural, was requisite for admission, we must say the company was select. Our n.o.bleman and his family had weeded their "circle" carefully, year by year.

Some valued acquaintances they had made in ball-rooms and boudoirs, and kept; but far more had been made through the daily wants of life, and shoemakers, seamstresses, and graziers mingled happily with artists and statesmen, to the benefit of both. (N.B.--None used the poisonous weed, in or out of our domestic temple.)

I cannot tell you what infinite good our n.o.bleman and his family were doing by creation of this true social centre, where the legitimate aristocracy of the land a.s.sembled, not to be dazzled by expensive furniture, (our n.o.bleman bought what was good in texture and beautiful in form, but not _because_ it was expensive,) not to be feasted on rare wines and highly-seasoned dainties, though they found simple refreshments well prepared, as indeed it was a matter of duty and conscience in that house that the least office should be well fulfilled, but to enjoy the generous confluence of mind with mind and heart with heart, the pastimes that are not waste-times of taste and inventive fancy, the cordial union of beings from all points and places in n.o.ble human sympathy. New York was beginning to be truly American, or rather Columbian, and money stood for something in the records of history. It had brought opportunity to genius and aid to virtue. But just at this moment, the jostling showed me that I had reached the corner of Wall Street. I looked earnestly at the omnibuses discharging their eager freight, as if I hoped to see my merchant. "Perhaps he has gone to the post office to take out letters from his friends in Utopia," thought I.

"Please give me a penny," screamed a half-starved ragged little street-sweep, and the fancied cradle of the American Utopia receded, or rather proceeded, fifty years, at least, into the future.

THE POOR MAN.

AN IDEAL SKETCH.

The foregoing sketch of the Rich Man, seems to require this companion-piece; and we shall make the attempt, though the subject is far more difficult than the former was.

In the first place, we must state what we mean by a poor man, for it is a term of wide range in its relative applications. A painstaking artisan, trained to self-denial, and a strict adaptation, not of his means to his wants, but of his wants to his means, finds himself rich and grateful, if some unexpected fortune enables him to give his wife a new gown, his children cheap holiday joys, and his starving neighbor a decent meal; while George IV., when heir apparent to the throne of Great Britain, considered himself driven by the pressure of poverty to become a debtor, a beggar, a swindler, and, by the aid of perjury, the husband of two wives at the same time, neither of whom he treated well. Since poverty is made an excuse for such depravity in conduct, it would be well to mark the limits within which self-control and resistance to temptation may be expected.

When he of the olden time prayed, "Give me neither poverty nor riches,"

we presume he meant that proportion of means to the average wants of a human being which secures freedom from pecuniary cares, freedom of motion, and a moderate enjoyment of the common blessings offered by earth, air, water, the natural relations, and the subjects for thought which every day presents. We shall certainly not look above this point for our poor man. A prince may be poor, if he has not means to relieve the sufferings of his subjects, or secure to them needed benefits. Or he may make himself so, just as a well-paid laborer by drinking brings poverty to his roof. So may the prince, by the mental gin of horse-racing or gambling, grow a beggar. But we shall not consider these cases.

Our subject will be taken between the medium we have spoken of as answer to the wise man's prayer, and that dest.i.tution which we must style infamous, either to the individual or to the society whose vices have caused that stage of poverty, in which there is no certainty, and often no probability, of work or bread from day to day,--in which cleanliness and all the decencies of life are impossible, and the natural human feelings are turned to gall because the man finds himself on this earth in a far worse situation than the brute. In this stage there is no ideal, and from its abyss, if the unfortunates look up to Heaven, or the state of things as they ought to be, it is with suffocating gasps which demand relief or death. This degree of poverty is common, as we all know; but we who do not share it have no right to address those who do from our own standard, till we have placed their feet on our own level.

Accursed is he who does not long to have this so--to take out at least the physical h.e.l.l from this world! Unblest is he who is not seeking, either by thought or act, to effect this poor degree of amelioration in the circ.u.mstances of his race.

We take the subject of our sketch, then, somewhere between the abjectly poor and those in moderate circ.u.mstances. What we have to say may apply to either s.e.x, and to any grade in this division of the human family, from the hodman and washerwoman up to the hard-working, poorly-paid lawyer clerk, schoolmaster, or scribe.

The advantages of such a position are many. In the first place, you belong, inevitably, to the active and suffering part of the world. You know the ills that try men's souls and bodies. You cannot creep into a safe retreat, arrogantly to judge, or heartlessly to forget, the others.

They are always before you; you see the path stained by their bleeding feet; stupid and flinty, indeed, must you be, if you can hastily wound, or indolently forbear to aid them. Then, as to yourself, you know what your resources are; what you can do, what bear; there is small chance for you to escape a well-tempered modesty. Then again, if you find power in yourself to endure the trial, there is reason and reality in some degree of self-reliance. The moral advantages of such training can scarcely fail to amount to something; and as to the mental, that most important chapter, how the lives of men are fashioned and transfused by the experience of pa.s.sion and the development of thought, presents new sections at every turn, such as the distant dilettante's opera-gla.s.ses will never detect,--to say nothing of the exercise of mere faculty, which, though insensible in its daily course, leads to results of immense importance.

But the evils, the disadvantages, the dangers, how many, how imminent!

True, indeed, they are so. There is the early bending of the mind to the production of marketable results, which must hinder all this free play of intelligence, and deaden the powers that craved instruction. There is the callousness produced by the sight of more misery than it is possible to relieve; the heart, at first so sensitive, taking refuge in a stolid indifference against the pangs of sympathetic pain, it had not force to bear. There is the perverting influence of uncongenial employments, undertaken without or against choice, continued at unfit hours and seasons, till the man loses his natural relations with summer and winter, day and night, and has no sense more for natural beauty and joy.

There is the mean providence, the perpetual caution to guard against ill, instead of the generous freedom of a mind which expects good to ensue from all good actions. There is the sad doubt whether it will _do_ to indulge the kindly impulse, the calculation of dangerous chances, and the cost between the loving impulse and its fulfilment.

Yes; there is bitter chance of narrowness, meanness, and dulness on this path, and it requires great natural force, a wise and large view of life taken at an early age, or fervent trust in G.o.d, to evade them.

It is astonishing to see the poor, no less than the rich, the slaves of externals. One would think that, where the rich man once became aware of the worthlessness of the mere trappings of life from the weariness of a spirit that found itself entirely dissatisfied after pomp and self-indulgence, the poor man would learn this a hundred times from the experience how entirely independent of them is all that is intrinsically valuable in our life. But, no! The poor man wants dignity, wants elevation of spirit. It is his own servility that forges the fetters that enslave him. Whether he cringe to, or rudely defy, the man in the coach and handsome coat, the cause and effect are the same. He is influenced by a costume and a position. He is not firmly rooted in the truth that only in so far as outward beauty and grandeur are representative of the mind of the possessor, can they count for any thing at all. O, poor man! you are poor indeed, if you feel yourself so; poor if you do not feel that a soul born of G.o.d, a mind capable of scanning the wondrous works of time and s.p.a.ce, and a flexible body for its service, are the essential riches of a man, and all he needs to make him the equal of any other man. You are mean, if the possession of money or other external advantages can make you envy or shrink from a being mean enough to value himself upon such. Stand where you may, O man, you cannot be n.o.ble and rich if your brow be not broad and steadfast, if your eye beam not with a consciousness of inward worth, of eternal claims and hopes which such trifles cannot at all affect. A man without this majesty is ridiculous amid the flourish and decorations procured by money, pitiable in the faded habiliments of poverty. But a man who is a man, a woman who is a woman, can never feel lessened or embarra.s.sed because others look ignorantly on such matters. If they regret the want of these temporary means of power, it must be solely because it fetters their motions, deprives them of leisure and desired means of improvement, or of benefiting those they love or pity.