USA > Georgia > The bench and bar of Georgia: memoirs and sketches. With an appendix, containing a court roll from 1790-1857, etc., volume II > Part 52
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The depreciation of property and other casualties often embarrass a man, a very honest man. Misfortunes gather on some more than on others. To all proper men debt is a galling bondage, an earthly torment. Though an honest man is full of anxiety from debt, and would give his blood if it could be coined into gold for his creditors rather than defraud them, still, debt is often an advantage, by stimulating a man to justify the confidence reposed in him. Who does not feel better after paying a debt? Perhaps a stranger calls on you with a note : you cash it on the spot, and pleasant emotions spring up in both parties.
On this subject you have much latitude, much to learn, much sorrow, much joy. I know your abiding integrity, your caution, your desire to keep free,-to avoid slavery more despotic than that of the cotton or the rice field. If you can pay as you go, if your business will allow this course, by all means adopt it. Then your rest will be sound, your morsel of food sweet, your mind happy. However, do not understand me to assert that
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all rich men, all men free from debt, are happy, or even entitled to respect. My views in this particular are reserved for another communication.
NO. V.
I now proceed to give you my conclusions in regard to wealth,-how far it should be an object of pursuit, and to what good uses it may be applied ; on the other hand, to point out the danger of cultivating avarice, and what rank a selfish man should occupy in the estimation of the world. Whatever may be the drift of my observations, I intend they shall have no personal bearing; for I do not paint from any single original, but from the group.
You have noticed how society courts the rich without deigning to in- quire whether the individual has sense or principle. The idea at once prevails that he is able to do a favor,-to endorse a note, lend money, use his influence, or do some act for the benefit of the worshipper, the sycophant. Besides, there is a contemptible vanity in some minds to asso- ciate with rich persons in order to gain character, which their merit would not otherwise procure. This defect is so general, so much an element of mankind, that I beg to dwell on it as a topic for salutary reflection.
We are all so constituted as to sympathize with happiness, in whatever form it may exist; and we are all persuaded that the more abundant and refined the comforts of a man are, the happier he must be. Who can imagine distress of mind in the owner of a thousand acres of rich land in cotton, with one hundred slaves to work it, and a clear surplus cash capital of fifty thousand dollars in bank or at interest ? Let us lay down a programme.
He may build a splendid mansion, and furnish it with Turkey carpets, elegant sofas, ottomans, velvet-cushioned chairs, marble centre-tables, mir- rors of the largest size, reflecting every object in the parlor, from the carpet-flower and satin slipper of a girl, to the huge whiskers of the fashionable beau,-may fill his rooms with bedsteads from Paris, or the whole variety of Austrian art which took the premium at the World's Fair for the perfection of luxury in a sleeping-apartment. Then he may dress his wife and daughters in French silks, Brussels lace, Persian shawls, and Swiss jewelry,-a new carriage, fine match of horses, and a servant always subject to order, for the ladies to pay visits, or to go a shopping, or to take a little airing. A man who can thus make the ladies happy, the loved members of his household, surely cannot be miserable. Can we help touching our beavers to such a man?
What else can the owner of wealth do? He may erect cotton-factories, flour-mills, iron-foundries, variety-works, run all sorts of machinery, and give employment to' many poor laborers. He may contribute to the building of churches and the education of destitute orphans; he may relieve from suffering the houseless widow and her starving children; he may assist in all charitable movements, and gain for himself the esteem of all classes, and, better than all, a consciousness of having done his duty. So much for wealth in the hands of a generous, upright man,-a man who delights in doing good, whose purest enjoyments consist in advancing the welfare of others. From this character-which is not alto- gether imaginary-let us pass to something we see daily.
You observe a plain-dressed man of middle age, stepping on the pave- ment with an air of importance ? His lips are compressed, and he has no particular civilities for any person. He walks into a store, and inquires
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about bagging and rope, negro-clothing, shoes and hats, weeding-hoes, axes, trace-chains, and the like plantation-articles, and tells the merchant that if he will take twenty-five per cent. less than his usual price he will make a large bill. Everybody speaks politely to this man, although he seems to care for no one but himself. Go to his house, and you will not find three dollars' worth of books there,-no newspaper for his sons, no magazine for his daughters,-no sign that he lives in an age of progress. His conversation is rough, illiterate, frequently defiled with profanity; and he reminds you of a wild bear snapping his teeth at every object within his view. This man declares that he has made his property, and is not going to give a cent to churches or to poor people, to support them in their laziness. Let the preachers go to work, let the poor earn their bread, as he has to do, and then there will be no necessity for begging!
Now, this farmer may be a very honest man, and perhaps owes not a dollar, and may have cash by him : yet what is there in his qualities or conduct to draw the marked attentions of men who would decline speaking to his superior in virtue and intelligence merely because he was poor ?
Were I disposed to exhibit what I conceive to be the prevailing errors on this subject, I could satisfy you of one thing :- that wealth, though a blessing, is a false standard of character; that minds of a lofty order, capable of noble sentiments and deeds, look upon wealth but as a secondary object,-merely as an instrument to accomplish what talent and public spirit may devise. Yet it is impossible to separate intellect and property without damage to both ; for, as neither by itself is available in the highest degree, I would have the two united to produce the best possible result. At your time of life, and in your situation, with every thing to gain, I would advise you to adopt the mental process, if either mind or matter has to gain the victory over you. My reasoning shall be brief.
There can be no brilliant success without a master-passion. Now, if you give up your soul to money and the arts and trickery by which it is gained, you will in the same degree neglect the cultivation of your intel- lectual powers. The latter must be taken early in hand, or they will become rigid and insensible to culture. I know rich men in Georgia, owning a hundred slaves,-men of admitted wealth in other respects, -- who cannot write their names. You scribble off a letter to oblige one of these men, or let him see a rapid use of the pen; and he will be very apt to say (as I have often heard such declare) that he would give half his fortune to write as well. There is such a thing possible as a man of superior intelligence and business-qualifications rising from poverty to wealth even in his old age; but there is not an instance on record where a miser or rich blockhead ever disturbed his brain in the pursuit of know- ledge at such a period.
If practicable, live within your means, avoid speculation, and devote all your leisure to study. Read the debates in Congress, past and present,- the speeches of Calhoun, Clay, Webster, Everett, Cass, Clayton, Hunter, and men of like calibre. They condense the argument in a small compass, present it forcibly, and use pure English. If you can obtain the Treasury Reports of Alexander Hamilton and William H. Crawford, peruse them carefully,-not for the statistics, however reliable, but for the lucid state- ment and cogent reasoning with which they abound. Once imbue your mind with solid and you will never relish superficial matter. Other suggestions as to reading will be given at a future time.
On the score of riches and poverty, allow me to say that both make the
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man,-the most complete man. He who has experienced both, and is at last anchored in wealth, or even competence, will be the happier, the more worthy of respect, by uniting with his good fortune a love of books, a spirit of kindness toward his fellow-men. All honest men cannot be rich ; nor does it follow that all rich men or all poor men are honest. Be brave in misfortune should it overtake you. Some of the purest men who ever lived-many public benefactors-died in penury. The famous William Pitt, Prime Minister of England, did not leave an estate sufficient to pay his funeral-expenses ; and Robert Morris, the great financier of the Ame- rican Revolution,-the man who supplied General Washington with funds to keep our army in the field,-in regard to whom the question has been asked "Whether Robert Morris, by his wealth and financial abilities, or General Washington, by his military skill, contributed most to the esta- blishment of our national independence ?" Still this pure patriot suffered reverses of fortune, and the venerable Robert Morris died in prison for debt !
In all your trials and vicissitudes, hold on to your integrity and hopes. Other losses may be repaired; but these are hard to recover. Bold resolves and constant action in the line of duty will secure prosperity just at the very time when you are best qualified to enjoy it, to make it most beneficial to others as well as to yourself.
NO. VI.
Before I proceed further, it is well to state the preparation you will have to undergo in order to attain solid eminence in any pursuit. There is a fragment of time in the history of all young men-say from nineteen to twenty-four years of age, (at least, such was my experience)-when great- ness usserted its dominion : the intellect ranged high, the passions glowed with intensity, the heart revelled in sweet dreams, and all nature offered contributions to make life an unbroken round of happiness. Every indi- vidual who pressed my hand cordially and looked kindly in my face was my special friend. If I ever needed a favor, surely he would be delighted to render it, and thank me for the opportunity. A whisper of regard from an aged man was the sure token of discovery on his part that I was a youth of rare promise. I felt encouraged to look up, to strike for excel- lence, to apply myself to some ideal object beyond reach, that, in strug- gling for light, the full blaze of intellectual development, the fruition of my vagrant hopes, I might by chance be elevated to genteel mediocrity. I was conscious of my defects, my poor education, my inability to perceive and arrange facts in a method to evolve the proper conclusion, the truth itself, from any intricate statement. Still, I must strive,-if not in the regions of argument, at least in the vivacity of letters,-in that silvery atmosphere of the mind which shows off feebleness to the best advantage, hides stupidity under a grave look, and, beneath the guise of diffidence, conceals an amount of ignorance too vast for confession.
Here is myself laid open,-what I was at twenty. I have been descend- ing ever since lower and lower in the scale of superiority. I shall never be half so wise again. My greatness perished with my youth. For you, however, the prospect is more cheering. When I was a meteor, illumi- nating the horizon of my own vanity, you crossed the equinox-sweet twenty-not long since, without exhibiting that sublime maturity of the faculties so evident in my case at the same age. Hence I have had my
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day in court, as the lawyers say, and I now stand off to witness your trial of strength. Gird up for the conflict, and hearken.
Necessity, bad fortune, failures, every kind of suffering, that of wounded pride, ambition,-the heart bruised, hopes crushed,-all must converge in your path to establish your manhood. You must live in darkness, grope in the twilight at noon,-must shiver in the cold and melt in the sun,-know all temperatures of the heart, the brain ; you must be assisted by friends, then forsaken ; flattered, then abused ; loved, and then hated ; you must rely upon yourself, and then feel your own weakness ; blaze up, then languish. In short, agonies of mind and body, alternations of hope and despair, of defeat and triumph, must keep you in a state of cohesion. These must be the timbers with which to construct your edifice of cha- racter.
The builder sends to the forest for his materials. Trees, large and small, are cut down, hewed, sawed up into all sizes, and brought home. He looks at the sills, the sleepers, the plates, the joists, the studs, the braces, the corner-posts, the door-posts, the rafters, the flooring, the sheat- ing, and the weather-boards, all piled in confusion. The house is there ; every particle which is to constitute the graceful mansion is on the ground ready for the workman; but, in the mass of scantling and boards of all lengths and shapes, you, unskilled in the use of the square, the saw, the auger, the chisel, do not perceive the relation of every piece to the whole build- ing. But the operator strikes the first blow, and then another, and so on, by rule, until he fits all for their several places. Then the house appears, -is finished. So of character. The odds and ends, the trifling events, the good fortune of one day and the evils of another, the failure of one experiment and the success of other attempts, varied perhaps by the lessons of the past, the vigor of health and the debility of sickness, this scrap of knowledge, that hint from adversity, the injustice of a foe and the aid of a friend,-all conduce to form character, to regulate habits, to mould the man, who, like the sturdy oak, has to brave the tempest and grow still stronger and deeper the more it is rocked. Thus motion gives solidity to a man. The huge cannon-ball at rest is a harmless thing; but give it impetus from a gun, and the castle's wall or ship's deck shows instant damage.
Under this figure I beg to awaken the liveliest impressions on your mind. What if you are tried,-sorely vexed ; the rich frown upon you ; all your plans turn out contrary to your desires ; nothing works right ; temptations assail you constantly, alarm you, conquer for a season ; you have no bosom friend to listen with sympathy to your grievances, or to console you under them? Let all these influences, and still more of a kindred tendency, bear against you; and what is the truth ? They are the materials, the fragments, to make you a man, a genuine inan. With- out them, you can no more resemble Berrien as an orator, Nisbet as a jurist, Wilde as a scholar, Charlton as a poet, and Seaborn Jones as an advocate, than a sprig of mustard resembles the giant oak. There is a secret in this ordeal, just as the refiner subjects impure metal to the action of heat to separate the alloy. You are passing through the crucible now, and you will yet have to pass through it many years to come, yea, even all your life, to reach the highest value, to possess the true gold of cha- racter, the basis of all excellence. But the task is not half so frightful as you and other young men are apt to imagine. A willing mind, a passion for activity, a heroic patience, a firm determination, are the only ingre-
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dients ; and surely you had rather nurture these, which soon afford pleasure in the ratio of their exercise, than to be moping about like an old woman muffled up from the toothache, telling others how mighty bad she felt ! Keep your troubles to yourself; you have no right to inflict them on others, except to a chosen friend. They are then sacred, and you will feel the better.
You inquire, then, Is there no way of escape, no privileged by-path or short road, by which a, youth may arrive at usefulness and enjoy the brightest rewards of life without this terrible probation ? I frankly answer, there is none. You cannot even remain stationary: you must either improve or retrograde. The mind must be in action all the time, for good or for evil : there is no middle course, no compromise. You gain or lose strength every day, just as you employ your time. Ponder well this truth : on it hangs your destiny. Keep the fires of your soul, the energies of your mind, always up, and the moral engine will move freely. The external world, friends, business, the future, your duty to God, to man, to yourself, are all topics to supply you with influences, the motive- power to propel your brain and affections with the right force. Written language is too feeble, too cold, to admit of the stimulating rules on paper. Indeed, I am not the man, either by pen or tongue, to rouse you to the work of self-preservation,-to victory. I am afraid that my teachings will have a less beneficial effect on you from my poor example. But you should remember that I attained the acme of my glory at the tender age of twenty years, and that all my available powers were consumed in the sky-rocket exhibition I made of myself about that period. I was the only spectator who beheld the sight distinctly. You are not so precocious : you continue to grow, and bid fair to rival the oak, while I withered like any other vegetable of a summer's growth, and there is nothing left of me but these poor dry leaves for you to gather up and preserve when I shall be in the grave.
The hope of serving you-and, it may be, by the publication of these letters, of inducing some other young friend or dear youth to pause and consider before it is too late-will tempt me to still further efforts. Though my counsels may be trivial in merit, still, it has cost me many bitter years of experience to obtain the key which I now present to all, with friendly directions to use it in securing happiness.
NO. VII.
It is proper for you to know all about life,-to experience more than you are willing to encounter,-to dive into deep caverns, as well as fly to the hill- tops, in order to take a broad view. You would fain rest between the two extremes, just on the happy line where riches neither surfeit nor poverty extinguishes the taste for enjoyment. You desire peace of mind, and the question is, how shall you obtain it? Bear with me if I am a little extra- vagant in my terms, if I combat all your preconceived opinions on the subject.
I know your ideas, for I have heard you express them, relative to pro- perty, education, refinement, success, honor,-all following each other as a matter of course ; and that if a person happens to possess the corner-stone, wealth, he can found as much happiness on it, as much honor, as any reasonable man ought to wish. In short, you believe, as a large majority of mankind persuade themselves, that wealth is the only source of happi- ness, in this :- It will procure you good eating every day,-roast beef, pig, VOL. II .- 28.
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turkey, veal, mutton, wild game of all sorts, all the fruits of the tropics, oranges, pineapples, nuts, and other delicacies of the kind, besides all the productions of the orchard and the garden in our own country.
Now, your mouth begins to drip at this bill of fare. Rich as it is, you think of adding some good old wines, claret, madeira, sherry, Johannis- berger ; and it may be you would like to sparkle up with champagne, for the sake of the delightful visions it is capable of producing. At this stage of the banquet you could relish a song,-yea, become witty and musical in a high degree, and forthwith some one or two, or all, of the company, fall to making noises, and the " Marseilles Hymn" points to Cuba, Sonora, and other barbarian spots of the world, as the rightful heritage of the " Sons of Freedom." Then "Bruce's Address" fires you all up with desperate energy. " Wha would be a coward slave, let him turn and flee !"" Here begin the Lopez and " President Walker" exploits. Large territories are seized by a dinner-proclamation, and you are all Generals, Presidents, Ministers of State, in imagination,-the only tenure by which you and your braves can ever hold office, so long as you allow the "swell-head" fancies to disturb your brain. You must cast them off, as the lion shakes the dew from his mane, and come out a rational being.
Let me ask you, in all seriousness, are you content to barter off your native sobriety and manliness,-the upright will, the calm reflection, the noble motive, the strong desire of excellence, ever at work in the minds of youth properly trained,-are you willing to sacrifice all these qualities, these teeming sources of future good, merely to obtain the privilege of converting the divinity within you into the coarseness of the brute ? Startle not at the picture : it is true, and I regret that it is true. For my sake, for the sake of your father's memory, the hopes of the future, both in this world and the next, no longer tolerate the silly notion that wealth is to be preferred and sought above all other objects because it will enable its possessor to live in ease, to avoid the labor both of mind and body which human weakness so much dreads in passing from the cradle to the tomb. I tell you, with the utmost solemnity, that no error is more palpable, more destructive. Adversity is a friend, not a foe. Rather commiserate the rich young man who is indulged with late morning naps, delicate viands, servants to execute every order, from loading guns for the chase, getting ready the fishing-tackle, and the carriage to ride in, and, when the ex- hausting work of the day is over, to bring refreshments and put him to bed ! What chance is there for such a youth to become a man of action, a leader in public affairs, or even qualified to make a good justice of the peace ? I would not give a bushel of guano or any other strong ferti- lizer for a regiment of such beings. They are ciphers in society, con- suming the products of other men's labor without yielding the least profit in any form whatever. Miserable creatures, they have been made worth- less by possessing what you and I so anxiously desired,-rich fathers and plenty of leisure, every thing at command to make us gentlemen from the time our mothers equipped us in the first suit of male clothing.
Yet, in spite of this evidence, this certain effect of riches to keep young men from developing their mental powers, we all crave property for our children. We strive to obtain all we possibly can, to give them a favor- able introduction, to open their way, secure respect, and surround them with those appliances which promote comfort and gratify pride. In theory I condemn all this,-all truckling to such influence, -and claim to be a philosopher, on paper; yet in practice I am a thing of small value,
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just as little benefited by experience as you are likely to be after all this edification. Pardon the remark, however, that, had I been specially lec- tured and admonished in my youth by a man in whom I had confidence, -by one who had passed through as many trying vicissitudes as you know I have passed through,-a man endeared to me by many sacred memorials,- I verily believe I should have accepted his tender of service and navigated my bark within his soundings. Why should you distrust me? What motive can possibly induce me to alarm you without cause ? I see you nearing the rapids; and I, your friend, your father's friend, one who vividly calls to mind the innocence and promise of your childhood, -I look on, while you, and others of the same age and disposition, are drifting in the current, soon to rush over the awful Niagara : I call at the top of my voice, I speak to you in trumpet-tones, to strike for the shore and be saved.
I beseech you not to feel aggrieved at the earnest figure of speech I have used, nor infer that I see any thing in your conduct to authorize rebuke. No, my dear friend : nothing of the kind exists. You are sailing on a smooth lake, fed by rivulets of crystal purity ; your habits are above re- proach, and I know your principles to be upright, your future encouraging. But I wish to keep you in a regular course for the intended haven, -to give you the latitude and longitude occasionally, that you may know the moral compass is to be relied on. I am a veteran on the sea of life, a weather-beaten tar, who for months and years have been driven at random, sometimes on the stormy Atlantic and then on the calm Pacific of human adventure. I have struck on concealed rocks, and dragged on many a sand- reef,-have been wrecked, and have been saved by friendly hands. Here I am to succor you in the gale, to launch my boat for your rescue, - another Capt. Creighton, of the "Three Bells," to stand by you for " humanity's sake" as wave after wave parts the deck of your " California" vessel. Be of good cheer. As I sail along your coast, I shall hoist friendly signals now and then, to remind you that I am hovering for your preservation and that of the young crew exposed to the same peril. Each of you possess elements of wealth, of happiness, within yourselves, of far greater value than the golden rocks of that " California" to which your fond vision is turned. It will be my aim, it is certainly my desire, to reduce those elements to practical use. The task is worthy of a more skilful mechanic in building up character; yet I shall do the best I can in performing it.
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