p. 290Chapter X — Money—Its Use and Abuse

“Not for to hide it in a hedge,
  Nor for a train attendant,
But for the glorious privilege
  Of being independent.”—Burns.

“Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of
husbandry.”—Shakepeare.

Never treat money affairs with levity—Money is
character.—Sir E. L. Bulwer Lytton.

How a man uses money—makes
it, saves it, and spends it—is perhaps one of the best
tests of practical wisdom. Although money ought by no means
to be regarded as a chief end of man’s life, neither is it
a trifling matter, to be held in philosophic contempt,
representing as it does to so large an extent, the means of
physical comfort and social well-being. Indeed, some of the
finest qualities of human nature are intimately related to the
right use of money; such as generosity, honesty, justice, and
self-sacrifice; as well as the practical virtues of economy and
providence. On the other hand, there are their counterparts
of avarice, fraud, injustice, and selfishness, as displayed by
the inordinate lovers of gain; and the vices of thriftlessness,
extravagance, and improvidence, on the part of those who misuse
and abuse the means entrusted to them. “So
that,” as is wisely observed by Henry Taylor in his
thoughtful ‘Notes from Life,’ “a right measure
and manner in getting, saving, spending, giving, taking, lending,
borrowing, and bequeathing, would almost argue a perfect
man.”

Comfort in worldly circumstances is a con ion which every man
is justified in striving to attain by all worthy means. It
secures that physical satisfaction, which is necessary for the
culture of the better part of his nature; and enables him to
provide for those of his own household, without which, says the
Apostle, a man is “worse than an infidel.” Nor
ought the duty to be any the less indifferent to us, that the
respect which our fellow-men entertain for us in no slight degree
depends upon the manner in which we exercise the opportunities
which present themselves for our honourable advancement in
life. The very effort required to be made to succeed in
life with this object, is of itself an education; stimulating a
man’s sense of self-respect, bringing out his practical
qualities, and disciplining him in the exercise of patience,
perseverance, and such like virtues. The provident and
careful man must necessarily be a thoughtful man, for he lives
not merely for the present, but with provident forecast makes
arrangements for the future. He must also be a temperate
man, and exercise the virtue of self-denial, than which nothing
is so much calculated to give strength to the character.
John Sterling says truly, that “the worst education which
teaches self denial, is better than the best which teaches
everything else, and not that.” The Romans rightly
employed the same word (virtus) to designate courage, which is in
a physical sense what the other is in a moral; the highest virtue
of all being victory over ourselves.

Hence the lesson of self-denial—the sacrificing of a
present gratification for a future good—is one of the last
that is learnt. Those classes which work the hardest might
naturally be expected to value the most the money which they
earn. Yet the readiness with which so many are accustomed
to eat up and drink up their earnings as they go, renders them to
a great extent helpless and dependent upon the frugal.
There are large numbers of persons among us who, though enjoying
sufficient means of comfort and independence, are often found to
be barely a day’s march ahead of actual want when a time of
pressure occurs; and hence a great cause of social helplessness
and suffering. On one occasion a deputation waited on Lord
John Russell, respecting the taxation levied on the working
classes of the country, when the noble lord took the opportunity
of remarking, “You may rely upon it that the Government of
this country durst not tax the working classes to anything like
the extent to which they tax themselves in their expenditure upon
intoxicating drinks alone!” Of all great public
questions, there is perhaps none more important than
this,—no great work of reform calling more loudly for
labourers. But it must be admitted that “self-denial
and self-help” would make a poor rallying cry for the
hustings; and it is to be feared that the patriotism of this day
has but little regard for such common things as individual
economy and providence, although it is by the practice of such
virtues only that the genuine independence of the industrial
classes is to be secured. “Prudence, frugality, and
good management,” said Samuel Drew, the philosophical
shoemaker, “are excellent artists for mending bad times:
they occupy but little room in any dwelling, but would furnish a
more effectual remedy for the evils of life than any Reform Bill
that ever passed the Houses of Parliament.” Socrates
said, “Let him that would move the world move first
himself. ” Or as the old rhyme runs—

“If every one would see
To his own reformation,
How very easily
You might reform a nation.”

It is, however, generally felt to be a far easier thing to
reform the Church and the State than to reform the least of our
own bad habits; and in such matters it is usually found more
agreeable to our tastes, as it certainly is the common practice,
to begin with our neighbours rather than with ourselves.

Any class of men that lives from hand to mouth will ever be an
inferior class. They will necessarily remain impotent and
helpless, hanging on to the skirts of society, the sport of times
and seasons. Having no respect for themselves, they will
fail in securing the respect of others. In commercial
crises, such men must inevitably go to the wall. Wanting
that husbanded power which a store of savings, no matter how
small, invariably gives them, they will be at every man’s
mercy, and, if possessed of right feelings, they cannot but
regard with fear and trembling the future possible fate of their
wives and children. “The world,” once said Mr.
Cobden to the working men of Huddersfield, “has always been
divided into two classes,—those who have saved, and those
who have spent—the thrifty and the extravagant. The
building of all the houses, the mills, the bridges, and the
ships, and the accomplishment of all other great works which have
rendered man civilized and happy, has been done by the savers,
the thrifty; and those who have wasted their resources have
always been their slaves. It has been the law of nature and
of Providence that this should be so; and I were an impostor if I
promised any class that they would advance themselves if they
were improvident, thoughtless, and idle.”

Equally sound was the advice given by Mr. Bright to an
assembly of working men at Rochdale, in 1847, when, after
expressing his belief that, “so far as honesty was
concerned, it was to be found in pretty equal amount among all
classes,” he used the following words:—“There
is only one way that is safe for any man, or any number of men,
by which they can maintain their present position if it be a good
one, or raise themselves above it if it be a bad one,—that
is, by the practice of the virtues of industry, frugality,
temperance, and honesty. There is no royal road by which
men can raise themselves from a position which they feel to be
uncomfortable and unsatisfactory, as regards their mental or
physical condition, except by the practice of those virtues by
which they find numbers amongst them are continually advancing
and bettering themselves.”

There is no reason why the condition of the average workman
should not be a useful, honourable, respectable, and happy
one. The whole body of the working classes might, (with few
exceptions) be as frugal, virtuous, well-informed, and
well-conditioned as many individuals of the same class have
already made themselves. What some men are, all without
difficulty might be. Employ the same means, and the same
results will follow. That there should be a class of men
who live by their daily labour in every state is the ordinance of
God, and doubtless is a wise and righteous one; but that this
class should be otherwise than frugal, contented, intelligent,
and happy, is not the design of Providence, but springs solely
from the weakness, self-indulgence, and perverseness of man
himself. The healthy spirit of self-help created amongst
working people would more than any other measure serve to raise
them as a class, and this, not by pulling down others, but by
levelling them up to a higher and still advancing standard of
religion, intelligence, and virtue. “All moral
philosophy,” says Montaigne, “is as applicable to a
common and private life as to the most splendid. Every man
carries the entire form of the human condition within
him.”

When a man casts his glance forward, he will find that the
three chief temporal contingencies for which he has to provide
are want of employment, sickness, and death. The two first
he may escape, but the last is inevitable. It is, however,
the duty of the prudent man so to live, and so to arrange, that
the pressure of suffering, in event of either contingency
occurring, shall be mitigated to as great an extent as possible,
not only to himself, but also to those who are dependent upon him
for their comfort and subsistence. Viewed in this light the
honest earning and the frugal use of money are of the greatest
importance. Rightly earned, it is the representative of
patient industry and untiring effort, of temptation resisted, and
hope rewarded; and rightly used, it affords indications of
prudence, forethought and self-denial—the true basis of
manly character. Though money represents a crowd of objects
without any real worth or utility, it also represents many things
of great value; not only food, clothing, and household
satisfaction, but personal self-respect and independence.
Thus a store of savings is to the working man as a barricade
against want; it secures him a footing, and enables him to wait,
it may be in cheerfulness and hope, until better days come
round. The very endeavour to gain a firmer position in the
world has a certain dignity in it, and tends to make a man
stronger and better. At all events it gives him greater
freedom of action, and enables him to husband his strength for
future effort.

But the man who is always hovering on the verge of want is in
a state not far removed from that of slavery. He is in no
sense his own master, but is in constant peril of falling under
the bondage of others, and accepting the terms which they dictate
to him. He cannot help being, in a measure, servile, for he
dares not look the world boldly in the face; and in adverse times
he must look either to alms or the poor’s rates. If
work fails him altogether, he has not the means of moving to
another field of employment; he is fixed to his parish like a
limpet to its rock, and can neither migrate nor emigrate.

To secure independence, the practice of simple economy is all
that is necessary. Economy requires neither superior
courage nor eminent virtue; it is satisfied with ordinary energy,
and the capacity of average minds. Economy, at bottom, is
but the spirit of order applied in the administration of domestic
affairs: it means management, regularity, prudence, and the
avoidance of waste. The spirit of economy was expressed by
our Divine Master in the words ‘Gather up the fragments
that remain, so that nothing may be lost.’ His
omnipotence did not disdain the small things of life; and even
while revealing His infinite power to the multitude, he taught
the pregnant lesson of carefulness of which all stand so much in
need.

Economy also means the power of resisting present
gratification for the purpose of securing a future good, and in
this light it represents the ascendancy of reason over the animal
instincts. It is altogether different from penuriousness:
for it is economy that can always best afford to be
generous. It does not make money an idol, but regards it as
a useful agent. As Dean Swift observes, “we must
carry money in the head, not in the heart.” Economy
may be styled the daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temperance,
and the mother of Liberty. It is evidently
conservative—conservative of character, of domestic
happiness, and social well-being. It is, in short, the
exhibition of self-help in one of its best forms.

Francis Horner’s father gave him this advice on entering
life:—“Whilst I wish you to be comfortable in every
respect, I cannot too strongly inculcate economy. It is a
necessary virtue to all; and however the shallow part of mankind
may despise it, it certainly leads to independence, which is a
grand object to every man of a high spirit.”
Burns’ lines, quoted at the head of this chapter, contain
the right idea; but unhappily his strain of song was higher than
his practice; his ideal better than his habit. When laid on
his death-bed he wrote to a friend, “Alas! Clarke, I begin
to feel the worst. Burns’ poor widow, and half a
dozen of his dear little ones helpless orphans;—there I am
weak as a woman’s tear. Enough of
this;—’tis half my disease.”

Every man ought so to contrive as to live within his
means. This practice is of the very essence of
honesty. For if a man do not manage honestly to live within
his own means, he must necessarily be living dishonestly upon the
means of somebody else. Those who are careless about
personal expenditure, and consider merely their own
gratification, without regard for the comfort of others,
generally find out the real uses of money when it is too
late. Though by nature generous, these thriftless persons
are often driven in the end to do very shabby things. They
waste their money as they do their time; draw bills upon the
future; anticipate their earnings; and are thus under the
necessity of dragging after them a load of debts and obligations
which seriously affect their action as free and independent
men.

It was a maxim of Lord Bacon, that when it was necessary to
economize, it was better to look after petty savings than to
descend to petty gettings. The loose cash which many
persons throw away uselessly, and worse, would often form a basis
of fortune and independence for life. These wasters are
their own worst enemies, though generally found amongst the ranks
of those who rail at the injustice of “the
world.” But if a man will not be his own friend, how
can he expect that others will? Orderly men of moderate
means have always something left in their pockets to help others;
whereas your prodigal and careless fellows who spend all never
find an opportunity for helping anybody. It is poor
economy, however, to be a scrub. Narrowmindedness in living
and in dealing is generally short-sighted, and leads to
failure. The penny soul, it is said, never came to
twopence. Generosity and liberality, like honesty, prove
the best policy after all. Though Jenkinson, in the
‘Vicar of Wakefield,’ cheated his kind-hearted
neighbour Flamborough in one way or another every year,
“Flamborough,” said he, “has been regularly
growing in riches, while I have come to poverty and a
gaol.” And practical life abounds in cases of
brilliant results from a course of generous and honest
policy.

The proverb says that “an empty bag cannot stand
upright;” neither can a man who is in debt. It is
also difficult for a man who is in debt to be truthful; hence it
is said that lying rides on debt’s back. The debtor
has to frame excuses to his creditor for postponing payment of
the money he owes him; and probably also to contrive
falsehoods. It is easy enough for a man who will exercise a
healthy resolution, to avoid incurring the first obligation; but
the facility with which that has been incurred often becomes a
temptation to a second; and very soon the unfortunate borrower
becomes so entangled that no late exertion of industry can set
him free. The first step in debt is like the first step in
falsehood; almost involving the necessity of proceeding in the
same course, debt following debt, as lie follows lie.
Haydon, the painter, dated his decline from the day on which he
first borrowed money. He realized the truth of the proverb,
“Who goes a-borrowing, goes a-sorrowing.” The
significant entry in his diary is: “Here began debt and
obligation, out of which I have never been and never shall be
extricated as long as I live.” His Autobiography
shows but too painfully how embarrassment in money matters
produces poignant distress of mind, utter incapacity for work,
and constantly recurring humiliations. The written advice
which he gave to a youth when entering the navy was as follows:
“Never purchase any enjoyment if it cannot be procured
without borrowing of others. Never borrow money: it is
degrading. I do not say never lend, but never lend if by
lending you render yourself unable to pay what you owe; but under
any circumstances never borrow.” Fichte, the poor
student, refused to accept even presents from his still poorer
parents.

Dr. Johnson held that early debt is ruin. His words on
the subject are weighty, and worthy of being held in
remembrance. “Do not,” said he, “accustom
yourself to consider debt only as an inconvenience; you will find
it a calamity. Poverty takes away so many means of doing
good, and produces so much inability to resist evil, both natural
and moral, that it is by all virtuous means to be avoided. . . .
Let it be your first care, then, not to be in any man’s
debt. Resolve not to be poor; whatever you have spend
less. Poverty is a great enemy to human happiness; it
certainly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues
impracticable and others extremely difficult. Frugality is
not only the basis of quiet, but of beneficence. No man can
help others that wants help himself; we must have enough before
we have to spare.”

It is the bounden duty of every man to look his affairs in the
face, and to keep an account of his incomings and outgoings in
money matters. The exercise of a little simple arithmetic
in this way will be found of great value. Prudence requires
that we shall pitch our scale of living a degree below our means,
rather than up to them; but this can only be done by carrying out
faithfully a plan of living by which both ends may be made to
meet. John Locke strongly advised this course:
“Nothing,” said he, “is likelier to keep a man
within compass than having constantly before his eyes the state
of his affairs in a regular course of account.” The
Duke of Wellington kept an accurate detailed account of all the
moneys received and expended by him. “I make a
point,” said he to Mr. Gleig, “of paying my own
bills, and I advise every one to do the same; formerly I used to
trust a confidential servant to pay them, but I was cured of that
folly by receiving one morning, to my great surprise, duns of a
year or two’s standing. The fellow had speculated
with my money, and left my bills unpaid.” Talking of
debt his remark was, “It makes a slave of a man. I
have often known what it was to be in want of money, but I never
got into debt.” Washington was as particular as
Wellington was, in matters of business detail; and it is a
remarkable fact, that he did not disdain to scrutinize the
smallest outgoings of his household—determined as he was to
live honestly within his means—even while holding the high
office of President of the American Union.

Admiral Jervis, Earl St. Vincent, has told the story of his
early struggles, and, amongst other things, of his determination
to keep out of debt. “My father had a very large
family,” said he, “with limited means. He gave
me twenty pounds at starting, and that was all he ever gave
me. After I had been a considerable time at the station [at
sea], I drew for twenty more, but the bill came back
protested. I was mortified at this rebuke, and made a
promise, which I have ever kept, that I would never draw another
bill without a certainty of its being paid. I immediately
changed my mode of living, quitted my mess, lived alone, and took
up the ship’s allowance, which I found quite sufficient;
washed and mended my own clothes; made a pair of trousers out of
the ticking of my bed; and having by these means saved as much
money as would redeem my honour, I took up my bill, and from that
time to this I have taken care to keep within my
means.” Jervis for six years endured pinching
privation, but preserved his integrity, studied his profession
with success, and gradually and steadily rose by merit and
bravery to the highest rank.

Mr. Hume hit the mark when he once stated in the House of
Commons—though his words were followed by
“laughter”—that the tone of living in England
is altogether too high. Middle-class people are too apt to
live up to their incomes, if not beyond them: affecting a degree
of “style” which is most unhealthy in its effects
upon society at large. There is an ambition to bring up
boys as gentlemen, or rather “genteel” men; though
the result frequently is, only to make them gents. They
acquire a taste for dress, style, luxuries, and amusements, which
can never form any solid foundation for manly or gentlemanly
character; and the result is, that we have a vast number of
gingerbread young gentry thrown upon the world, who remind one of
the abandoned hulls sometimes picked up at sea, with only a
monkey on board.

There is a dreadful ambition abroad for being
“genteel.” We keep up appearances, too often at
the expense of honesty; and, though we may not be rich, yet we
must seem to be so. We must be “respectable,”
though only in the meanest sense—in mere vulgar outward
show. We have not the courage to go patiently onward in the
condition of life in which it has pleased God to call us; but
must needs live in some fashionable state to which we
ridiculously please to call ourselves, and all to gratify the
vanity of that unsubstantial genteel world of which we form a
part. There is a constant struggle and pressure for front
seats in the social amphitheatre; in the midst of which all noble
self-denying resolve is trodden down, and many fine natures are
inevitably crushed to death. What waste, what misery, what
bankruptcy, come from all this ambition to dazzle others with the
glare of apparent worldly success, we need not describe.
The mischievous results show themselves in a thousand
ways—in the rank frauds committed by men who dare to be
dishonest, but do not dare to seem poor; and in the desperate
dashes at fortune, in which the pity is not so much for those who
fail, as for the hundreds of innocent families who are so often
involved in their ruin.

The late Sir Charles Napier, in taking leave of his command in
India, did a bold and honest thing in publishing his strong
protest, embodied in his last General Order to the officers of
the Indian army, against the “fast” life led by so
many young officers in that service, involving them in
ignominious obligations. Sir Charles strongly urged, in
that famous document—what had almost been lost sight of
that “honesty is inseparable from the character of a
thorough-bred gentleman;” and that “to drink
unpaid-for champagne and unpaid-for beer, and to ride unpaid-for
horses, is to be a cheat, and not a gentleman.” Men
who lived beyond their means and were summoned, often by their
own servants, before Courts of Requests for debts contracted in
extravagant living, might be officers by virtue of their
commissions, but they were not gentlemen. The habit of
being constantly in debt, the Commander-in-chief held, made men
grow callous to the proper feelings of a gentleman. It was
not enough that an officer should be able to fight: that any
bull-dog could do. But did he hold his word
inviolate?—did he pay his debts? These were among the
points of honour which, he insisted, illuminated the true
gentleman’s and soldier’s career. As Bayard was
of old, so would Sir Charles Napier have all British officers to
be. He knew them to be “without fear,” but he
would also have them “without reproach.” There
are, however, many gallant young fellows, both in India and at
home, capable of mounting a breach on an emergency amidst
belching fire, and of performing the most desperate deeds of
valour, who nevertheless cannot or will not exercise the moral
courage necessary to enable them to resist a petty temptation
presented to their senses. They cannot utter their valiant
“No,” or “I can’t afford it,” to
the invitations of pleasure and self-enjoyment; and they are
found ready to brave death rather than the ridicule of their
companions.

The young man, as he passes through life, advances through a
long line of tempters ranged on either side of him; and the
inevitable effect of yielding, is degradation in a greater or a
less degree. Contact with them tends insensibly to draw
away from him some portion of the divine electric element with
which his nature is charged; and his only mode of resisting them
is to utter and to act out his “no” manfully and
resolutely. He must decide at once, not waiting to
deliberate and balance reasons; for the youth, like “the
woman who deliberates, is lost.” Many deliberate,
without deciding; but “not to resolve, is to
resolve.” A perfect knowledge of man is in the
prayer, “Lead us not into temptation.” But
temptation will come to try the young man’s strength; and
once yielded to, the power to resist grows weaker and
weaker. Yield once, and a portion of virtue has gone.
Resist manfully, and the first decision will give strength for
life; repeated, it will become a habit. It is in the
outworks of the habits formed in early life that the real
strength of the defence must lie; for it has been wisely
ordained, that the machinery of moral existence should be carried
on principally through the medium of the habits, so as to save
the wear and tear of the great principles within. It is
good habits, which insinuate themselves into the thousand
inconsiderable acts of life, that really constitute by far the
greater part of man’s moral conduct.

Hugh Miller has told how, by an act of youthful decision, he
saved himself from one of the strong temptations so peculiar to a
life of toil. When employed as a mason, it was usual for
his fellow-workmen to have an occasional treat of drink, and one
day two glasses of whisky fell to his share, which he
swallowed. When he reached home, he found, on opening his
favourite book—‘Bacon’s
Essays’—that the letters danced before his eyes, and
that he could no longer master the sense. “The
condition,” he says, “into which I had brought myself
was, I felt, one of degradation. I had sunk, by my own act,
for the time, to a lower level of intelligence than that on which
it was my privilege to be placed; and though the state could have
been no very favourable one for forming a resolution, I in that
hour determined that I should never again sacrifice my capacity
of intellectual enjoyment to a drinking usage; and, with
God’s help, I was enabled to hold by the
determination.” It is such decisions as this that
often form the turning-points in a man’s life, and furnish
the foundation of his future character. And this rock, on
which Hugh Miller might have been wrecked, if he had not at the
right moment put forth his moral strength to strike away from it,
is one that youth and manhood alike need to be constantly on
their guard against. It is about one of the worst and most
deadly, as well as extravagant, temptations which lie in the way
of youth. Sir Walter Scott used to say that “of all
vices drinking is the most incompatible with
greatness.” Not only so, but it is incompatible with
economy, decency, health, and honest living. When a youth
cannot restrain, he must abstain. Dr. Johnson’s case
is the case of many. He said, referring to his own habits,
“Sir, I can abstain; but I can’t be
moderate.”

But to wrestle vigorously and successfully with any vicious
habit, we must not merely be satisfied with contending on the low
ground of worldly prudence, though that is of use, but take stand
upon a higher moral elevation. Mechanical aids, such as
pledges, may be of service to some, but the great thing is to set
up a high standard of thinking and acting, and endeavour to
strengthen and purify the principles as well as to reform the
habits. For this purpose a youth must study himself, watch
his steps, and compare his thoughts and acts with his rule.
The more knowledge of himself he gains, the more humble will he
be, and perhaps the less confident in his own strength. But
the discipline will be always found most valuable which is
acquired by resisting small present gratifications to secure a
prospective greater and higher one. It is the noblest work
in self-education—for

“Real glory
Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves,
And without that the conqueror is nought
But the first slave.”

Many popular books have been written for the purpose of
communicating to the public the grand secret of making
money. But there is no secret whatever about it, as the
proverbs of every nation abundantly testify. “Take
care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of
themselves.” “Diligence is the mother of good
luck.” “No pains no gains.”
“No sweat no sweet.” “Work and thou shalt
have.” “The world is his who has patience and
industry.” “Better go to bed supperless than
rise in debt.” Such are specimens of the proverbial
philosophy, embodying the hoarded experience of many generations,
as to the best means of thriving in the world. They were
current in people’s mouths long before books were invented;
and like other popular proverbs they were the first codes of
popular morals. Moreover they have stood the test of time,
and the experience of every day still bears witness to their
accuracy, force, and soundness. The proverbs of Solomon are
full of wisdom as to the force of industry, and the use and abuse
of money:—“He that is slothful in work is brother to
him that is a great waster.” “Go to the ant,
thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.”
Poverty, says the preacher, shall come upon the idler, “as
one that travelleth, and want as an armed man;” but of the
industrious and upright, “the hand of the diligent maketh
rich.” “The drunkard and the glutton shall come
to poverty; and drowsiness shall clothe a man with
rags.” “Seest thou a man diligent in his
business? he shall stand before kings.” But above
all, “It is better to get wisdom than gold; for wisdom is
better than rubies, and all the things that may be desired are
not to be compared to it.”

Simple industry and thrift will go far towards making any
person of ordinary working faculty comparatively independent in
his means. Even a working man may be so, provided he will
carefully husband his resources, and watch the little outlets of
useless expenditure. A penny is a very small matter, yet
the comfort of thousands of families depends upon the proper
spending and saving of pennies. If a man allows the little
pennies, the results of his hard work, to slip out of his
fingers—some to the beershop, some this way and some
that—he will find that his life is little raised above one
of mere animal drudgery. On the other hand, if he take care
of the pennies—putting some weekly into a benefit society
or an insurance fund, others into a savings’ bank, and
confiding the rest to his wife to be carefully laid out, with a
view to the comfortable maintenance and education of his
family—he will soon find that this attention to small
matters will abundantly repay him, in increasing means, growing
comfort at home, and a mind comparatively free from fears as to
the future. And if a working man have high ambition and
possess richness in spirit,—a kind of wealth which far
transcends all mere worldly possessions—he may not only
help himself, but be a profitable helper of others in his path
through life. That this is no impossible thing even for a
common labourer in a workshop, may be illustrated by the
remarkable career of Thomas Wright of Manchester, who not only
attempted but succeeded in the reclamation of many criminals
while working for weekly wages in a foundry.

Accident first directed Thomas Wright’s attention to the
difficulty encountered by liberated convicts in returning to
habits of honest industry. His mind was shortly possessed
by the subject; and to remedy the evil became the purpose of his
life. Though he worked from six in the morning till six at
night, still there were leisure minutes that he could call his
own—more especially his Sundays—and these he employed
in the service of convicted criminals; a class then far more
neglected than they are now. But a few minutes a day, well
employed, can effect a great deal; and it will scarcely be
credited, that in ten years this working man, by steadfastly
holding to his purpose, succeeded in rescuing not fewer than
three hundred felons from continuance in a life of villany!
He came to be regarded as the moral physician of the Manchester
Old Bailey; and where the Chaplain and all others failed, Thomas
Wright often succeeded. Children he thus restored reformed
to their parents; sons and daughters otherwise lost, to their
homes; and many a returned convict did he contrive to settle down
to honest and industrious pursuits. The task was by no
means easy. It required money, time, energy, prudence, and
above all, character, and the confidence which character
invariably inspires. The most remarkable circumstance was
that Wright relieved many of these poor outcasts out of the
comparatively small wages earned by him at foundry work. He
did all this on an income which did not average, during his
working career, 100l. per annum; and yet, while he was
able to bestow substantial aid on criminals, to whom he owed no
more than the service of kindness which every human being owes to
another, he also maintained his family in comfort, and was, by
frugality and carefulness, enabled to lay by a store of savings
against his approaching old age. Every week he apportioned
his income with deliberate care; so much for the indispensable
necessaries of food and clothing, so much for the landlord, so
much for the schoolmaster, so much for the poor and needy; and
the lines of distribution were resolutely observed. By such
means did this humble workman pursue his great work, with the
results we have so briefly described. Indeed, his career
affords one of the most remarkable and striking illustrations of
the force of purpose in a man, of the might of small means
carefully and sedulously applied, and, above all, of the power
which an energetic and upright character invariably exercises
upon the lives and conduct of others.

There is no discredit, but honour, in every right walk of
industry, whether it be in tilling the ground, making tools,
weaving fabrics, or selling the products behind a counter.
A youth may handle a yard-stick, or measure a piece of ribbon;
and there will be no discredit in doing so, unless he allows his
mind to have no higher range than the stick and ribbon; to be as
short as the one, and as narrow as the other. “Let
not those blush who have,” said Fuller, “but
those who have not a lawful calling.” And
Bishop Hall said, “Sweet is the destiny of all trades,
whether of the brow or of the mind.” Men who have
raised themselves from a humble calling, need not be ashamed, but
rather ought to be proud of the difficulties they have
surmounted. An American President, when asked what was his
coat-of-arms, remembering that he had been a hewer of wood in his
youth, replied, “A pair of shirt sleeves.” A
French doctor once taunted Flechier, Bishop of Nismes, who had
been a tallow-chandler in his youth, with the meanness of his
origin, to which Flechier replied, “If you had been born in
the same condition that I was, you would still have been but a
maker of candles.”

Nothing is more common than energy in money-making, quite
independent of any higher object than its accumulation. A
man who devotes himself to this pursuit, body and soul, can
scarcely fail to become rich. Very little brains will do;
spend less than you earn; add guinea to guinea; scrape and save;
and the pile of gold will gradually rise. Osterwald, the
Parisian banker, began life a poor man. He was accustomed
every evening to drink a pint of beer for supper at a tavern
which he visited, during which he collected and pocketed all the
corks that he could lay his hands on. In eight years he had
collected as many corks as sold for eight louis
d’ors. With that sum he laid the foundations of his
fortune—gained mostly by stock-jobbing; leaving at his
death some three millions of francs. John Foster has cited
a striking illustration of what this kind of determination will
do in money-making. A young man who ran through his
patrimony, spending it in profligacy, was at length reduced to
utter want and despair. He rushed out of his house
intending to put an end to his life, and stopped on arriving at
an eminence overlooking what were once his estates. He sat
down, ruminated for a time, and rose with the determination that
he would recover them. He returned to the streets, saw a
load of coals which had been shot out of a cart on to the
pavement before a house, offered to carry them in, and was
employed. He thus earned a few pence, requested some meat
and drink as a gratuity, which was given him, and the pennies
were laid by. Pursuing this menial labour, he earned and
saved more pennies; accumulated sufficient to enable him to
purchase some cattle, the value of which he understood, and these
he sold to advantage. He proceeded by degrees to undertake
larger transactions, until at length he became rich. The
result was, that he more than recovered his possessions, and died
an inveterate miser. When he was buried, mere earth went to
earth. With a nobler spirit, the same determination might
have enabled such a man to be a benefactor to others as well as
to himself. But the life and its end in this case were
alike sordid.

To provide for others and for our own comfort and independence
in old age, is honourable, and greatly to be commended; but to
hoard for mere wealth’s sake is the characteristic of the
narrow-souled and the miserly. It is against the growth of
this habit of inordinate saving that the wise man needs most
carefully to guard himself: else, what in youth was simple
economy, may in old age grow into avarice, and what was a duty in
the one case, may become a vice in the other. It is the
love of money—not money itself—which is
“the root of evil,”—a love which narrows and
contracts the soul, and closes it against generous life and
action. Hence, Sir Walter Scott makes one of his characters
declare that “the penny siller slew more souls than the
naked sword slew bodies.” It is one of the defects of
business too exclusively followed, that it insensibly tends to a
mechanism of character. The business man gets into a rut,
and often does not look beyond it. If he lives for himself
only, he becomes apt to regard other human beings only in so far
as they minister to his ends. Take a leaf from such
men’s ledger and you have their life.

Worldly success, measured by the accumulation of money, is no
doubt a very dazzling thing; and all men are naturally more or
less the admirers of worldly success. But though men of
persevering, sharp, dexterous, and unscrupulous habits, ever on
the watch to push opportunities, may and do “get on”
in the world, yet it is quite possible that they may not possess
the slightest elevation of character, nor a particle of real
goodness. He who recognizes no higher logic than that of
the shilling, may become a very rich man, and yet remain all the
while an exceedingly poor creature. For riches are no proof
whatever of moral worth; and their glitter often serves only to
draw attention to the worthlessness of their possessor, as the
light of the glowworm reveals the grub.

The manner in which many allow themselves to be sacrificed to
their love of wealth reminds one of the cupidity of the
monkey—that caricature of our species. In Algiers,
the Kabyle peasant attaches a gourd, well fixed, to a tree, and
places within it some rice. The gourd has an opening merely
sufficient to admit the monkey’s paw. The creature
comes to the tree by night, inserts his paw, and grasps his
booty. He tries to draw it back, but it is clenched, and he
has not the wisdom to unclench it. So there he stands till
morning, when he is caught, looking as foolish as may be, though
with the prize in his grasp. The moral of this little story
is capable of a very extensive application in life.

The power of money is on the whole over-estimated. The
greatest things which have been done for the world have not been
accomplished by rich men, nor by subscription lists, but by men
generally of small pecuniary means. Christianity was
propagated over half the world by men of the poorest class; and
the greatest thinkers, discoverers, inventors, and artists, have
been men of moderate wealth, many of them little raised above the
condition of manual labourers in point of worldly
circumstances. And it will always be so. Riches are
oftener an impediment than a stimulus to action; and in many
cases they are quite as much a misfortune as a blessing.
The youth who inherits wealth is apt to have life made too easy
for him, and he soon grows sated with it, because he has nothing
left to desire. Having no special object to struggle for,
he finds time hang heavy on his hands; he remains morally and
spiritually asleep; and his position in society is often no
higher than that of a polypus over which the tide floats.

“His only labour is to kill the time,
And labour dire it is, and weary woe.”

Yet the rich man, inspired by a right spirit, will spurn
idleness as unmanly; and if he bethink himself of the
responsibilities which attach to the possession of wealth and
property he will feel even a higher call to work than men of
humbler lot. This, however, must be admitted to be by no
means the practice of life. The golden mean of Agur’s
perfect prayer is, perhaps, the best lot of all, did we but know
it: “Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food
convenient for me.” The late Joseph Brotherton, M.P.,
left a fine motto to be recorded upon his monument in the Peel
Park at Manchester,—the declaration in his case being
strictly true: “My richness consisted not in the greatness
of my possessions, but in the smallness of my wants.”
He rose from the humblest station, that of a factory boy, to an
eminent position of usefulness, by the simple exercise of homely
honesty, industry, punctuality, and self-denial. Down to
the close of his life, when not attending Parliament, he did duty
as minister in a small chapel in Manchester to which he was
attached; and in all things he made it appear, to those who knew
him in private life, that the glory he sought was not
“to be seen of men,” or to excite their praise, but
to earn the consciousness of discharging the every-day duties of
life, down to the smallest and humblest of them, in an honest,
upright, truthful, and loving spirit.

“Respectability,” in its best sense, is
good. The respectable man is one worthy of regard,
literally worth turning to look at. But the respectability
that consists in merely keeping up appearances is not worth
looking at in any sense. Far better and more respectable is
the good poor man than the bad rich one—better the humble
silent man than the agreeable well-appointed rogue who keeps his
gig. A well balanced and well-stored mind, a life full of
useful purpose, whatever the position occupied in it may be, is
of far greater importance than average worldly
respectability. The highest object of life we take to be,
to form a manly character, and to work out the best development
possible, of body and spirit—of mind, conscience, heart,
and soul. This is the end: all else ought to be regarded
but as the means. Accordingly, that is not the most
successful life in which a man gets the most pleasure, the most
money, the most power or place, honour or fame; but that in which
a man gets the most manhood, and performs the greatest amount of
useful work and of human duty. Money is power after its
sort, it is true; but intelligence, public spirit, and moral
virtue, are powers too, and far nobler ones. “Let
others plead for pensions,” wrote Lord Collingwood to a
friend; “I can be rich without money, by endeavouring to be
superior to everything poor. I would have my services to my
country unstained by any interested motive; and old Scott [313] and I can go on in our cabbage-garden
without much greater expense than formerly.” On
another occasion he said, “I have motives for my conduct
which I would not give in exchange for a hundred
pensions.”

The making of a fortune may no doubt enable some people to
“enter society,” as it is called; but to be esteemed
there, they must possess qualities of mind, manners, or heart,
else they are merely rich people, nothing more. There are
men “in society” now, as rich as Croesus, who have no
consideration extended towards them, and elicit no respect.
For why? They are but as money-bags: their only power is in
their till. The men of mark in society—the guides and
rulers of opinion—the really successful and useful
men—are not necessarily rich men; but men of sterling
character, of disciplined experience, and of moral
excellence. Even the poor man, like Thomas Wright, though
he possess but little of this world’s goods, may, in the
enjoyment of a cultivated nature, of opportunities used and not
abused, of a life spent to the best of his means and ability,
look down, without the slightest feeling of envy, upon the person
of mere worldly success, the man of money-bags and acres.