Mr. Mortimer now stood completely detected.
The world, however, was not satisfied with the general knowledge of his goodness and benevolence. Curiosity was at work to discover his connexions, habits, property, employment; in short, the whole personal history of the man. One only friend, to whom he intrusted all the secrets of his heart and life, thought fit, after he was removed from this mortal state, to gratify the world in this particular.
Mr. Mortimer was a younger son of a respectable family in the country, and came to London at an early age, to be educated for commercial life. In this he succeeded so well, that after going through the different stages of clerk, partner, and principal, he found himself possessed of a considerable fortune. For sometime he made that use of his wealth which persons who live within the bounds of what is called decency think permitted to them. But the common pleasures of the world palled daily more and more upon his taste. He found a void which could only be filled by reading and contemplation. He grew fond of taking enlarged views of mankind, their several conditions, characters, and destinations. He compared the higher classes with the lower, the instructed with the ignorant; above all, he examined himself, and inquired into the great purpose for which he was brought into the world. In order to augment his sphere of knowledge, he resolved to visit foreign countries; and having no family encumbrances, he drew his affairs into a small compass, relinquished business, and went abroad. During a course of some years, he was a wanderer through most countries of Europe, travelling chiefly on foot, avoiding common routes, and mingling with the mass of the people.
He saw, abroad as well as at home, a great deal of misery; he saw wretchedness everywhere close in the train of splendour—indigence by the side of prodigality—baseness under the foot of authority. He lamented the evils of the world; but whatever might be their original source, he saw that man had within himself the power of remedying many of them. In exercising this power, all duty, all virtue seemed to consist. “This, then,” said he, “must be the proper business of every man in this life. It is then mine; and how shall I best perform it?”
Full of these meditations, he returned; and convinced that the great inequality of rank and property is one principal cause (though a necessary one) of the ills of life, he resolved, as much as it lay in his power, to counteract it. “How few things,” thought he, “are necessary to my external comfort! Wholesome food, warm clothing, clean lodging, a little waiting upon, and a few books. This is all that even selfishness asks of me. Whose, then, is the superfluity?”
That he might at once get rid of the craving and burdensome demands which opinion imposes, he took a house in a part of the town where his name was unknown; and of all his former acquaintance, he only reserved one or two congenial friends. He selected out of the number of his former domestics one of each sex, steady and confidential, whose lives he made as comfortable as his own. After all the expenses of his frugal, but not scanty mode of living were discharged, there remained two thirds of his income, which he never failed to bestow in secret charity. He chose that his charities should be secret, not only as being utterly averse to all ostentation, but also to avoid those importunities which might lead his bounty to unworthy objects. He would himself know the real circumstances of every case; and it was the chief employment of his time, by hunting into obscure corners, and searching out the private history of the indigent classes of the community, to obtain exact information of the existence of misery, and the proper modes of relieving it. He neglected no kinds of distress, but it was his great delight to relieve virtuous poverty, and alleviate those keen wounds of fortune which she inflicts on those who have once participated in some share of her smiles. Hence the sums which he bestowed were often so considerable as at once to retrieve the affairs of the sufferer, nor did he think it right to withdraw his sustaining hand as long as its support was needful.
With respect to his opinions on other subjects, his enlarged acquaintance with men and books effectually preserved him from bigotry. He well knew in what points mankind agreed, and in what they differed, and he attached much superior importance to the former.
So he lived—so he died! injuring none—benefiting many—bearing with pious resignation the evils that fell to his own lot—continually endeavouring to alleviate those of others—and hoping to behold a state in which all evil shall be abolished.
Providence, or the Shipwreck, p. [377].
EVENING XXXI.