In her sculptured fountain at the Panama-Pacific Exposition, Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney expresses the same idea, but even more forcefully than does the picture. Here are thirty-seven figures nearly all intent upon reaching their goal of happiness. They cannot even see what it is. Yet the eagerness depicted upon the faces, in the straining attitudes, the strenuous striving in that one direction, all typify the desire, the intentness, the resolute pursuit of happiness. Then, alas, when the doors are reached, they are both found closed, guarded by Assyrian and Egyptian figures, that suggest the occult mystery of the beyond, and that look down sternly and unyieldingly upon the two figures at their feet, long strivers, evidently pleading for the admission that is denied them. There are two definite, distinct, and different ways in which these two allegories can be interpreted. One is that mankind ever lives in the world of the senses, pursuing the gratifications of the now, the feastings, the drinkings, the carousings, the pleasuring, the wantonings of the sense-life, the sensual life, and that such a pursuit is ever doomed to failure, for man—the spiritual, created in God's own image—can never be satisfied with the temporary things of earth and sense.
The other interpretation is that man is ever seeking for some far-off, great, extraordinary pleasure, joy, or satisfaction, something in the future, rather than living in the smaller joys of the now. The child longs to be the youth or maiden, enjoying "sitting up at nights," "going to parties," "eating candies," "going out with the boys," "smoking like a man"; the youth eagerly works for the time when he shall be his own master, control his own business; the maiden, have her lover, marry successfully, become the mistress of her own house; the grown man looks forward to and works desperately for the time when he shall have "made his pile," and the woman to "an assured place in society." These, and a thousand and one "pursuits" engage men and women.
In my own life I am eagerly desirous to radiate the opposite of both of these conceptions. I certainly do not wish to belong to the class pictured in Christ's parable of the rich man; he who thought only of the so-called good things of this life which he would enjoy now—he who said: "Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die." The slightest observation of life, of the men and women one meets daily, soon convinces one of the hollowness, the dissatisfaction, the incompleteness of all earthly things. The subject is too trite to need any amplification. Yet, the wonder of it is, that, in spite of this fact, the great majority of people still thus strive for wealth, place, power, honor, social success, possessions, attainments. Why is it that this ignis fatuus has such power of allurement? Why is it that men and women are so foolish, so slow to rule their actions by their own inner spiritual awakenings, rather than the habits and fashions followed by others?
I have no desire or ambition for fame, for honor, for success, for place, for power, as such. They are useless to me save as I may use them for the benefit, the happiness, the pleasure of my fellows. I am slowly awakening to the realization of what I believe now to be a primal fact, viz., that all a man can really hold and enjoy in his living hand, in his soul, in his life, is that which he gives away, shares, distributes among his fellows.
Elsewhere I have quoted Joaquin Miller's lines from Peter Cooper:
For all you can hold in your dead, cold hand,
Is what you have given away.
I now wish to radiate my belief in the enlargement of that idea as stated above. Even knowledge can give no real satisfaction unless shared, given to others; the joy of a picture owned is lost unless others can enjoy with you. In other words, the possession of anything for self alone is destructive of happiness. One learns slowly but surely that even in these things of the mind and the soul:
That man who lives for self alone
Lives for the meanest mortal known.