“Yes, money is everything! And it weighs not a feather, all the ruin and squalor and death you will bring to a people who never harmed you! Not a feather's weight, as against the accumulation of money for yourselves,” said Mr. Mechlin, forgetting his usual consideration for others' feelings.
“If I did not cause this misery you apprehend, some one would. Be sure of it, for there will always be misery in the world, no matter who causes it,” the Governor replied, with an air of being satisfied with his philosophy, inasmuch as he was to be exempt from human suffering, no matter who went under.
Mr. Mechlin, still lingering sadly, and veiling his great disapprobation of Mr. Stanford's practical philosophy, said:
“Mr. Herbert Spencer also, in elucidating his principles, reminds us of the fact that ‘Misery is the highway to death, while happiness is added life, and the giver of life.’ Think of this, Governor. Surely, you do not wish to make us so miserable that you cause death! Yes, death from poverty and despair. Poverty, overwork and discouragement are the causes of sickness and death oftener than it is supposed, and this Mr. Spencer also maintains unswervingly.”
“You have a very vivid imagination; you color up things too dark,” said the Governor, also rising.
“I hope you will not be sorry to have thought so. I hope you will not regret that you closed your heart and your mind against us, against justice, humanity and reason.” So saying, Mr. Mechlin slowly walked off; then at the door he turned, and lifting his finger, said to Don Mariano: “I feel a prophetic warning that neither you nor I will ever see light in this world. These men—this deadly, soulless corporation, which, like a black cloud, has shut out the light from San Diego's horizon—will evermore cast the shadow that will be our funeral pall. But let them look to it, they might yet carry their heartless rapacity beyond limit. The mighty monopoly, that has no soul to feel responsibility, no heart for human pity, no face for manly blush—that soulless, heartless, shameless monster—might yet fall of its own weight.” So saying, Mr. Mechlin walked away, as if he intended this prophecy to be a parting salutation to the men who had blighted his life and made him utterly hopeless.
CHAPTER XXXIV.—The Sins of Our Legislators!
“‘Assey de Bonaparte!’ cried France, in 1814. Men found that his absorbing egotism was deadly to all other men,” says Mr. Emerson. “It was not Bonaparte's fault. He did all that in him lay to live and thrive without moral principle. It was the nature of things, the eternal law of the man and the world, which balked and ruined him; and the result in a million experiments would be the same. Every experiment by multitudes or by individuals, that has a sensual or selfish aim, will fail. The Pacific Fourier will be as inefficient as the pernicious Napoleon. As long as our civilization is essentially one of property, of exclusiveness, it will be mocked by delusions. Our riches will leave us sick; there will be bitterness in our laughter, and our wine will burn our mouth. Only that good profits which serves all men.”
Yes, only that good profits which does not represent the misery of others; only that wine should be sweet which is not drunk when the tears of those we have rendered desolate are silently running over pale cheeks from eyes that have kept the vigil of want, mourning for the beloved to whom poverty brought death!
In heavenly-inspired words Emerson and Carlyle and Herbert Spencer have repeated those burning aphorisms, but our California “Fire Pillars” differ with them—differ widely and differ proudly.