But this does not disclose the whole truth. There is in useful labor its own exceeding great reward, without regard to gain.
The happiness found in occupation is the frequent theme of the moralist, but nobody has illustrated it with more power than Luther in his Table-Talk, where he presents an image of the human mind which has always seemed to me one of the most striking in the whole range of literature. Let me give it in the strong and fibrous diction of the ancient translation from the original Latin.
"The heart of an humane creature is like a mill-stone in a mill: when corn is shaked thereupon, it runneth about, rubbeth and grindeth it to meal; but if no corn bee present (the stone nevertheless running still about), then it rubbeth and grindeth it self thinner, and becometh less and smaller: even so the heart of an humane creature will bee occupied; if it hath not the works of its vocation in hand to bee busied therein, then cometh the Divel and shooteth thereinto tribulations, heavie cogitations and vexations, as then the heart consumeth it self with melancholie, insomuch that it must starv and famish."[140] That it may not starve and famish, it must be supplied with something to do; and its happiness will be in proportion to the completeness with which all its faculties are brought into activity.
It is according to God's Providence that there should be pleasure in the exercise of all the powers with which we are blessed. There is pleasure in seeing the sights and catching the sounds of Nature. There is pleasure in the exercise of the limbs, even in extending an arm or moving a muscle. Higher degrees of pleasure are allotted to the exercise of the higher faculties. There is pleasure in the acquisition of knowledge,—pleasure in the performance of duty,—pleasure in all the labors by which we promote our own progress,—pleasure higher still in those by which we promote the progress of others.
If this be so,—and surely it will not be doubted,—then is it our duty to regulate our habits so as to cultivate all the faculties, to the end that Time shall yield its choicest fruits. When I speak of all the faculties, I mean all those which enter into and form the character created in the image of God, not merely those which minister to the selfish ends of life. There are faculties for business; there are others which open to us the avenues of knowledge,—others which connect us by chains soft as silk, but strong as iron, to the social and domestic circle,—others still which reveal to us, in vistas of infinite variety and inconceivable extension, our duties to God and man. Nor can any one reasonably persuade himself that he has done his whole duty, and employed his time to the best purpose, who has neglected any of these, although he may have sacrificed much to the others. Success in business will not compensate for neglect of general culture; nor will attendance on "the stated preaching of the gospel" atone for a want of interest in the great charities of life, in the education of the people, in the sufferings of the poor, in the sorrows of the slave.
There is a tendency to absorption by one pursuit or one idea, against which we must especially guard. The mere man of business is "a man of one idea,"[141] and his solitary idea has its root in no generous or humane desires, but in selfishness. He lives for himself alone. He may send his freights to the most distant quarters of the earth, and receive therefrom returning argosies, but his real horizon is restricted to the narrow circle of his own personal interests; nor does his worldly nature, elated by the profits of cent per cent, see with eye of sympathy, in cotton sold or sugar bought, the drops of blood falling from the unhappy slaves out of whose labor they were wrung. In the mere man of business the individual is lost in the profession or calling, thinking only of that, and caring little for other things of life. He is known by the character that business impresses upon him. He is untiring in its pursuit, but with no true progress, for each day renews its predecessor. Benevolence calls, but he is deaf, or satisfies his conscience by a dole of money. Literature exhibits her charms, but he is insensible. And innocent recreation makes her pleasant appeal, but he will not listen. He is absorbed, engrossed, filled in every vein by the "one idea" of business with new methods of adding to his increasing gains, as the mouth of the money-seeking Crassus was filled by the Parthians with molten gold.
We learn to deride the pedant who sacrifices everything to the accumulation of empty learning, which he displays at all times, as a peddler his wares. The image of Dominie Sampson, in Scott's novel of "Guy Mannering," is a happy scarecrow to frighten us from his "one idea." But the merchant whose only talk is of markets, the farmer whose only talk is of bullocks, and the lawyer whose only talk is of his cases, are all Dominie Sampsons in their way. They have all missed that completeness and harmony of development essential to the balance of the faculties and to the best usefulness. They have become richer in this world's goods; but they have sacrificed what money cannot supply,—a general intelligence, an independence of calling or position, and a catholic, liberal spirit. In the prejudices engendered by exclusive devotion to a single pursuit, they have lost one of the most important attributes of man,—the power to receive and appreciate truth.
It is a common saying, handed down with reverence in my own profession, where it is attested at once by Bacon and by Coke, that "every man owes a debt to his profession." If by this is meant that every man should seek to elevate his profession, and to increase its usefulness, the saying is a truism, although valuable as at least one remove from individual selfishness. But is it not too often construed so as to exclude exertion in any other walk, or to serve as a cloak for indifference to other things? Important as this debt may be,—and I will not disparage it,—not for this alone are we sent into the world. There are other debts which must not be postponed. Man was not thus fearfully and wonderfully made,—the cunningest pattern of excelling Nature,—endowed with infinite faculties,—traversing with the angels the blue floor of Heaven,—ranging with light from system to system of the Universe,—descending to the earth and receiving in bountiful largess all its hoarded treasures,—girdling the globe with the peaceful embrace of commerce,—imposing chains even upon the lawless sea,—making the winds and elements do his bidding,—summoning to his company all that is and all that has been the good and great of all times, exemplars of truth, liberty, and virtue, all the grand procession of history,—formed to throb at every deed of generosity and self-sacrifice, and to send forth his sympathies wider and sweeter than any south-wind blowing over beds of violets, until they reach the most distant sufferer,—formed for the acquisition of knowledge and of science,—gifted to enjoy the various feast of letters and art, the breathing canvas and marble, the infinite many-choired voices of all the sons of genius who have written or spoken, the beauty of mountain, field, and river, the dazzling drapery of the winter snow, the glory of sunset, the blushing of the rose,—man was not made with all these capacities, looking before and after, spanning the vast outstretched Past, penetrating the vaster unfathomable Future, with all its images of beauty, merely to follow a profession or a trade, merely to be a merchant, a lawyer, a mechanic, a soldier.
"So God created man in his own image; in the image of God created he him." The image of God is in the soul, and the young must take heed that it is not effaced by the neglect of any of the trusts they have received. They must bear in mind that there are debts other than to their profession or business, which, like gratitude, it will ever be their pleasure, "still paying, still to owe,"—which can be properly discharged only by the best employment of all the faculties with which they are blessed,—so that life shall be improved by culture and filled with works for the good of man.
In no respect would I weaken any just attachment to the business of one's choice. Goethe advised every one to read daily a short poem; and in the same spirit would I refine and elevate business by the chastening influence of other pursuits, by enlarging the intelligence, by widening the sphere of observation and interest, by awakening new sympathies.