XXIV.
A WEEK OF CASTLE BUILDING.
The last assurance of Frisbie was indeed very kind, but unnecessary; for Squire Fabens was well convinced before the last visit, that Fairbanks was all he had been represented to be; and that conviction rose from a simple and cool opinion to a warm and loving faith, when he considered all the gifts they gave; the generous solicitations, which merchants but seldom extended to farmers; and the liberty they allowed him, to take his own time and look the matter carefully over.
It was a mean suspicion, he thought, which could longer fear deception. Had it been their design to deceive, why all that frankness; that fair and candid proposing; that trusting to his own mind to weigh, and his own time to return an answer? Villains would have been more exacting in their terms, and briefer in their plans and proposals. Villains would have talked in a lower tone, attempted to hurry him to agreements, and hastened the signing and sealing. With those gentlemen, all was generous, candid, moderate, indulgent; and even if he concluded not to accept their magnanimous offer, he should always remember the kindness in which it was made.
A whole week was before him; yes, two or three weeks if he wanted it, to weigh the proposal and return an answer. He gave his whole mind to it, and a week was found sufficient for the deliberation. During that week he seemed to live many years of a life, wide and wonderful; stirring and instinct with actions, incidents and scenes; a life and possessions, progressive as the rise of day, and rapid as the bloom of springtime. It was a week of Castle Building. The days of the week introduced a succession of views that swept in action and speech before him like the scenes of a thrilling drama.
Scene first was opened. It pleased his eyes, and sent blissful sensations running around his heart. It showed him the store of the company, enlarged and renovated, with a capacious counting-room, and a pleasant door in the rear, beneath a piazza opening to the cool air and placid smile of the sweet Cayuga, as it slept or stirred, embosomed among the lovely hills.
In that store, he saw himself, now moving in the press of business; now examining their posted legers; and now seated in the comfortable counting-room, counselling on their growing concerns, or conversing with an old friend, or neighbor, as the smooth pine whittlings rolled like ribbons from his hand; and now on the back piazza, enjoying the air and prospect.
It was a happy change. It was all shaded sweetly from the intolerable sun; it was more stirring than farm work; it was more gentle, and suited to his years. It was cleanly; and his cool linen wristbands would keep all the week as snowy white as Julia had done them; while she would have lighter washings, and more leisure time.
It was a profitable change. Money was made faster there, Not that his soul was on fire with a passion for money; he loved money less than most of his neighbors; he was free and manly with his money as you would not find ten in a thousand. Still, honest gains were pleasant to him; the amount he had accumulated somehow prompted a desire for more; and in a store he could gain faster, and in larger amounts, and perhaps retire in a few years, from all business, more independent than now, enjoy the satisfaction of giving more gracious charities, and dispensing sweeter reliefs; and settling a handsomer sum on Fanny when she married, and again when he died.
It was an honorable change. Say what they would, farmers looked up to merchants, and considered their own avocation inferior. Many farmers honored merchants more than those of their own sphere, and would be glad to be merchants themselves. As he moved about that store, or whittled in that counting-room, or sat on that back piazza, and took of the cool summer breeze, fresh kisses of beauty borne up from the laughing lake, he would still be called Squire Fabens, but it would come with more emphasis and meaning than now, while delving in the vulgar soil.
Scene second was opened. The store was the same, but the business extended, calling another clerk to the counter; the seats were there, and the pleasant views around; the company sulky, polished like a razor, danced on its light elliptics, behind a proud pawing horse at the post; and the sun literally revelled in the yellow gold that flamed on the sanded sign over the door.
His eyes were still more pleased, and there flocked around his heart sensations of more exalted bliss. The chances of his fortune were very large, and sure; but he would feel rich on a quarter of what would be required in older sections, and in cities. If he could have ten thousand dollars, and a clear conscience and good name left, he would feel richer than many with a million. He would be rich enough, and thank no man for more. No man ought to accumulate more. With that fortune he could settle down, in the pleasantest home.
That home rose before him in the scene. It stood fronting the village green. It supported its piazza and Paris green blinds, and was white and modest in all appearance. It was a two-story house of course, for a story and a half would look too much like a squatter's home, in a village; yet it was not over large. A large house would give Mrs. Fabens too much care and work, and she would not have a servant to wait on her. The house was just suited to his family. It was furnished neatly but prudently; having a sofa indeed, and one large mirror; but brick fireplaces, frugal lamps, a plain carpet in the parlor, and maple chairs with simple flag-seats.
In that home, how much comfort he could take when his friends gave him calls; when Fanny and her children came home on a visit, and when some poor weary mendicant entered for shelter, alms and rest! To that home he could retire in a few years, free from the cares of business, anxious for nothing, but the good of his neighbors, still young in his heart, and fresh in all his feelings to enjoy life's blessing and peace.
Scene third was opened. The store remained, with an increase of business, and an enlargement of the building. He still continued in business; but it was from choice, and not necessity; for all of his ten thousand was made; and it was made so easily, and in so much less time than he anticipated, and so pleasantly withal, he might just as well keep on to twenty thousand; if a clear conscience might remain, and he might be a little more happy.
Mrs. Fabens could be lady of a handsomer home, and perhaps persuaded to keep a servant or two, and take some comfort in her old age. His first object should be to force happiness on her; for a better wife never blest a devoted husband. Mrs. Fabens should be urged to extend the sphere of her enjoyments, and Fanny should be well provided for. He would try for twenty thousand. Then a larger house could be built, and a good horse and carriage attend at the door.
That sum was accumulated, and that home and its opulent comforts and equipage rose in the scene. He was glad he possessed it. The poorest of his friends, the most humble of his fellows were welcome as ever there, and he was happier, showing how a rich man could unbend, and how much more was in his power to bless them.
Now he could travel some. Neither he nor his family has seen anything of the world at all, and he would take them around to see it. They should go to Saratoga a week, thence to Albany, thence to New York, and Philadelphia. Perhaps they would go through the country in their own private carriage, taking all the comfort of the journey. It would be grand to visit Niagara, and bring home in their souls the sublimity of the falls. May be they would go to Boston, and set their feet on Bunker-hill, where his father fought in the Revolution; and if he should ever be honored with a seat in the Legislature, or in Congress, he would take his family with him, for he could do it as well as not.
Scene fourth was opened, and that was pleasanter than all the rest. But he found that even twenty thousand would not be sufficient to accomplish all his plans. Yet, he was in no dilemma. Fairbanks, Frisbie and Fabens, had grown up into a mammoth business, and it would be as easy to make his thirty thousand, as to turn his hand over. Make it honestly too: and the money was all made, and he said now he had enough in all conscience, for one man to possess. Now his comfort would be complete.
He wondered why he should have taken it into his head to build his house in the village, where he could not turn himself without knocking his elbows, and where he could get no good views of nature, and hardly land enough for a patch of green grass to spread-out washings on.
Judge Garlock had a country-seat overlooking the Cayuga, scarcely a bow-shot from the pebbly shore, and he must have one too. He sells his village home, purchases ten acres on a gentle and beautiful slope, builds him a splendid house, with polished marble mantels, with cornices, centre-pieces, and folding-doors, furnished in several rooms with mahogany chairs and sofas, with ottomans and divans; the large parlor graced with a fine piano, for Fanny and her sweet daughters, when they shall come home; and his lovely acres are made more lovely by a profusion of trees, circles and lines of white pebble walk, pink-beds and tulips; and flourish not long without a deer-park and duck-pond, as symbols of ancient times.
And how his heart leaps with delight as he beholds that home in contrast with the old ones, and imagines the comfort they will find there. Not the wet grass, or slumping soil of a farm, but the white pebble path of a villa will he now tread, as he goes forth to enjoy the morning and the night. And while he is out, if he chooses not to sit down in his summer-house, and read, or look over his last paper, under one of his maples, and has nothing else to busy his thoughts, and no one to share his company, he can fling corn to his ducks in the pool, and feed his gentle deer, delighting to see them enjoy his care.
Who has not a right to build as handsome a house as money will buy? He cannot withdraw his eyes from the charming scene! He retires and returns again and again, to linger and look upon it. The clear and cool Cayuga shines beyond, as if hung for a mirror to reflect it; and he sees the whole magnificent estate, the house and its terraces, the grounds and trees, the walks and waters, the ducks and deers; even the tulips and pinks, as plainly in its placid splendor, as you can see the sun in the silver sky.
But he must turn, at least to breathe, for the fifth scene opens. Still he remains a member of the firm of Fairbanks, Frisbie and Fabens. Still at times he is seen in the store, waiting on customers, when the others are absent, sitting now and then in the counting-room to counsel or converse, or enjoying a cool hour on the back piazza. Still he is very happy, yet not quite satisfied.
He has run upon the idea that a high-school is wanted in Summerfield, and that he cannot more nobly enhance his happiness than by establishing a school of the first class, in a building erected for the purpose, endowing it amply, and making a present of it to the town. Ten thousand dollars more could easily be made, and it would enable him to do that very handsome thing for Summerfield.
In comes the money without effort, and without delay; the school is established on a pleasant eminence, in full view of his mansion, and it makes a fine ornament to the place; while he finds it a pleasant sight indeed, to see talented young men, and accomplished young women, going forth from Fabens' Academy, to improve society, and ennoble their own life with learning, and graceful manners and ways.
And while revelling in this new source of joy, his fortune continues to grow, and the sixth scene opens. It will be thought a novel enterprise in that community, and he is prepared for it, and even for a few sneers and witticisms; but these will not move him at all, and he resolves to build a meeting-house, and call a pastor, and settle a salary upon him. He has always supported Elder Darling's meeting—the Elder is an excellent man, and he will continue to support him; but he is not perfectly suited with the Elder's preaching; it wants heartier life, and a more evangelical power and effect; and he knows of many who hunger for a gospel of larger faith and charity; which shall feed and refresh the people, and raise their aims and views; which shall identify religion more with a pure and benevolent character; which shall not be sectarian; and, free from cant and vain pretension, shall enter into every-day life, and make smiles its hymns, and deeds of good its prayers. Such a minister can be procured, such a church established. He can establish it himself, and not mind the cost. He will do it, and ask no man's assistance. Up goes a beautiful church as there is in all the country, and on comes the eloquent preacher; and full meetings, and joyful seasons follow. If ever he was a man of perfect happiness, it is now.
And what can prevent the continuance of his bliss? The evangelical gospel sounds sweeter than ever in his ears. New interpretations of Scripture enlighten him, and higher views of God and heaven open like elysium around. And can anything, out of heaven, flood his heart with a fuller satisfaction, than on a still, bright, silent Sunday, such as God gives in holiest beauty only to the country, to ride in his carriage to that lovely church, which nestles like a white dove in among the hills, and hear preaching that will fatten his soul with celestial manna-dew, exchange warm greetings with hundreds who thank him for the privilege they enjoy at his hand, and ride home, rejoicing all the way, to be the agent by which a door is opened for light and truth in a new region?
His happiness continues to flow. All his reasonable expectations are fulfilled, and he seems to live longer in a single day, on a single Sunday now, than he once did in a twelvemonth; it makes him so happy to know he has made many others happy. But with the increase of fortune, comes the increase of desire, and he finds another thing lacking; a new project leaps into his mind, and the last scene opens.
There are a great many poor people in Summerfield. Several causes have combined to make them poor. Most of them are very worthy, and have interesting children. All of them are God's sons and daughters, and should not pine in want and grief amid so much wealth and country. If a Poor Man's Home were established on a large and productive farm, and put under judicious management, how much suffering might be alleviated! How many aged heads lie down on soft pillows of peace! How many aged hearts, unburdened of grief, and made to run over with flowing tears of gratitude! How many of the disabled and unfortunate, placed beyond reach of want and misery! How many bright children snatched from the errors and temptations that lurk in the way of poverty, and clothed and educated in virtues and lessons, that would place them on a footing with rich men's children, and lead them to lives of usefulness and honor! How many orphans provided for, and how many widows made to sing in their hearts for joy!
He has means sufficient to do most of the building himself, and endow the Home; and with a little help from others, the institution is completed; and he sees bright glancing wings of joy hovering at doors where grief has been a constant guest; Comfort wiping tears from eyes long accustomed to weep; and Virtue and Knowledge leading large processions of rescued children on their heavenward way. He is rich and happy as he can hope or desire to be on earth, and he lies down to sweet dreams on the last night of his Week of Castle Building, and with those dreams the visions of affluence close.