Essays; Political, Economical, and Philosophical — Volume 1

by Graf von Benjamin Rumford

If they were asked, what the matter was with them? their answer was, ("nichts") "nothing;" accompanied by a look of affectionate regard and gratitude, so exquisitely touching as frequently to draw tears from the most insensible of the bystanders.

It was not possible to be mistaken with respect to the real state of the minds of these poor people; every thing about them showed that they were deeply affected with the kindness shown them;— and that their hearts were really softened, appeared, not only from their unaffected expressions of gratitude, but also from the effusions of their affectionate regard for those who were dear to them. In short, never did I witness such affecting scenes as passed between some of these poor people and their children.

It was mentioned above that the children were separated from the grown persons. This was the case at first; but as soon as order was thoroughly established in every part of the house, and the poor people had acquired a certain degree of address in their work, and evidently took pleasure in it, as many of those who had children expressed an earnest desire to have them near them, permission was granted for that purpose; and the spinning halls, by degrees, were filled with the most interesting little groups of industrious families, who vied with each other in diligence and address; and who displayed a scene, at once the most busy, and the most cheerful, that can be imagined.

An industrious family is ever a pleasing object; but there was something peculiarly interesting and affecting in the groups of these poor people. Whether it was, that those who saw them compared their present situation with the state of misery and wretchedness from which they had been taken; —or whether it was the joy and exultation which were expressed in the countenances of the poor parents in contemplating their children all busily employed about them;—or the air of self-satisfaction which these little urchins put on, at the consciousness of their own dexterity, while they pursued their work with redoubled diligence upon being observed, that rendered the scene so singularly interesting,— I know not; but certain it is, that few strangers who visited the establishment, came out of these halls without being much affected.

Many humane and well-disposed persons are often withheld from giving alms, on account of the bad character of beggars in general; but this circumstance, though it ought undoubtedly to be taken into consideration in determining the mode of administering our charitable assistance, should certainly not prevent our interesting ourselves in the fate of these unhappy beings. On the contrary, it ought to be an additional incitement to us to relieve them;—for nothing is more certain, than that their crimes are very often the EFFECTS, not the CAUSES of their misery; and when this is the case, by removing the cause, the effects will cease.

Nothing is more extraordinary and unaccountable, than the inconsistency of mankind in every thing; even in the practice of that divine virtue benevolence; and most of our mistakes arise more from indolence and from inattention, than from any thing else. The busy part of mankind are too intent upon their own private pursuits; and those who have leisure, are too averse from giving themselves trouble, to investigate a subject but too generally considered as tiresome and uninteresting. But if it be true, that we are really happy only in proportion as we ought to be so;— that is, in proportion as we are instrumental in promoting the happiness of others; no study surely can be so interesting, as that which teaches us how most effectually to contribute to the well-being of our fellow-creatures.

If LOVE be blind, SELF-LOVE is certainly very short-sighted; and without the assistance of reason and reflection, is but a bad guide in the pursuit of happiness.

Those who take pleasure in depreciating all the social virtues have represented pity as a mere selfish passion; and there are some circumstances which appear to justify this opinion. It is certain that the misfortunes of others affect us, not in proportion to their greatness, but in proportion to their nearness to ourselves; or to the chances that they may reach us in our turns. A rich man is infinitely more affected at the misfortune of his neighbour, who, by the failure of a banker with whom he had trusted the greater part of his fortune;—by an unlucky run at play,—or by other losses, is reduced to a state of affluence, to the necessity of laying down his carriage;— leaving the town;—and retiring into the country upon a few hundreds a-year;—than by the total ruin of the industrious tradesman over the way, who is dragged to prison, and his numerous family of young and helpless children left to starve.

But however selfish pity may be, BENEVOLENCE certainly springs from a more noble origin. It is a good-natured,—generous sentiment, which does not require being put to the torture in order to be stimulated to action. And it is this sentiment, not pity, or compassion, which I would wish to excite.

Pity is always attended with pain; and if our sufferings at being witnesses of the distresses of others, sometimes force us to relieve them, we can neither have much merit, nor any lasting satisfaction, from such involuntary acts of charity; but the enjoyments which result from acts of genuine benevolence are as lasting as they are exquisitely delightful; and the more they contribute to that inward peace of mind and self-approbation, which alone constitute real happiness. This is the "soul's calm sun-shine, and the heart-felt joy," which is virtue's prize.