These transitory things, however, do last for a little while, and, although worthless as a final end and object to live for, are necessary and valuable as means. Private interpretation of the Scripture might deduce from it that Christ intended to do away with all power, rank, human science, art, commerce, wealth, and civil or social polity, with marriage and the family even, and thus extinguish this present world and this life to make way for the next. This is not the interpretation of the church or the way of Catholic practice. All these worldly, transitory things are retained and made use of, notwithstanding that “the figure of this world passeth away.” The rich man who is resolved to be a perfect Christian needs, therefore, to know not only what esteem he is to place on wealth and other temporal things in reference to the real and final good, but how practically to use them for the attainment of the same, and for helping his dependents and others to attain it. The more we go into detail in regard to this matter, the more difficult it becomes to draw lines and lay down practical rules. A sound and well-directed conscience must at last be the guide of each one, and it is a sufficient though not strictly infallible guide to those who are instructed in good general principles.
One general principle which may be useful as a rule for application to a great many particular cases is this: Those indulgences which gratify the more refined and intellectual tastes may be more freely made use of than those which gratify the senses. Another principle, closely allied to this, is the following: Whatever has an honorable or useful end is allowable; whatever merely gratifies a selfish passion must be condemned and avoided. To apply these principles as rules in certain important particular cases, let us begin with the rich man’s house. The first fault and folly to be avoided is extravagance. He ought not to embarrass his estate and prejudice the interests of his family by spending more money on his houses and the decoration of his grounds than he can afford. If he does, his motive is ostentation, or some other inordinate passion, and therefore worthy of condemnation. That there has been a vast amount of extravagance in this respect in our country within the past thirty years is obvious to every one. The outside show of our towns and cities indicates an amount of wealth certainly four times greater than really exists. A man who is governed by Christian principles, with which common sense and sound reason always coincide in so far as they are competent to judge of what is right, will, of course, avoid all extravagance. More than this, he will not take the lead in splendor and magnificence of buildings and furniture, even if he has wealth enough to do so without extravagance. On the contrary, he will choose to be rather behind than before his compeers in this respect. We are not speaking now of princes and magnates, but of private citizens. There is no fitness, especially in a republic, in making private residences palaces. It is proper to provide for all the conveniences of domestic life. Moreover, architectural beauty in the construction of houses, and taste and elegance in their furniture, give decorum to life, and innocent and refining pleasure to those who behold them, and a means of living to a large class of persons who are especially fitted for a kind of work which demands artistic taste and skill. We cannot draw the line precisely where mere useless and luxurious pomp, show, and splendor begin. We can only say that a man thoroughly imbued with Christian principles and sentiments will be very anxious and careful to keep on the safe side of it, so far as he is able to do so. But whatever degree of costliness and splendor may be suitable or permissible in the residence of any Catholic gentleman, whether he be a plain, private citizen in our democratic republic, or a nobleman, prince, or monarch elsewhere, everything should be made to conform not to a pagan, but a Christian and Catholic, ideal. All that is even bordering on heathen voluptuousness should be rigidly excluded. Works of Catholic art should adorn the walls even of the most public and splendid apartments. Every private room should have its crucifix, its Madonna, its vase of holy water, its prie-dieu, and books of prayer and devotion. An oratory, fitted up with the utmost elegance and costliness that is suitable to the circumstances, should be the shrine and chief ornament of the house. The library and other receptacles for books should be pure of all that is tainted and corrupting, and filled up with everything which Catholic literature can furnish, both in English and in the other languages which the members of the highly distinguished circle we have the honor of addressing are supposed to know. In a word, the elegancies and ornaments of life should be made to minister to intellectual cultivation, to the education of the higher and more refined tastes of the soul; and these should be made all subservient to that which is highest of all—the culture and improvement of the spirit in the knowledge and love of the Supreme Truth and the Infinite Beauty.
Just at the moment of writing down these thoughts, we have come across a beautiful sketch of the family of Count Stolberg, in the pages of a German periodical. It is so appropriate as an illustration that we will postpone any further continuation of our subject, and finish the present article with a translation of the sketch alluded to.[73]
“It is singular (writes Count Stolberg) that I cannot remember ever to have heard in the house of my parents such words as money, competency, economy, expense, saving. At that time luxury had not yet become the fashion; and, even if it had been, the house of our parents was like an island. We lived separate from others, although scarcely adverting to the fact that our life was so retired. There was just as little said about making ourselves comfortable as about money and fashion. The modern luxury in chairs and sofas with all its ingenious contrivances was altogether unknown to us. All the articles of furniture, our dress, and the table were good and befitting our rank; but we might have said about all these things what Cyrus said at the table of Astyages about the customs of the Persians: ‘I do not know whether at that time all people remained longer children, or whether we ourselves only remained so.’ Count Stolberg’s father died in the year 1765, and the last anxious wish of his heart was that ‘his children might walk in the way of the Lord.’ How much, writes the count, this desire occupied the hearts of both my father and my mother! I can still hear my mother say that she envied no one so much as the mother of the seven Macchabees; that she was the most fortunate of mothers. It was her solitary wish, prayer, and effort that she might one day be able to say, ‘Lord, here are we, and the children whom thou hast given us’—it was the soul of her entire plan of education.
“At the father’s death, the countess gave his Bible to the young Count Frederic, and wrote in it the following words: ‘This Bible, which your blessed father used on the very day of his death, consoling himself with the words, “Thou hearest, O Lord! the longing of those who cry to thee, their heart is sure that thou dost give ear to them,” must prove a great blessing to you, and continually stimulate you to love the Word of God, to venerate it, to make it the rule of your life, as he did, and to seek consolation in it to the end of your life. For this, may the Triune God give you his grace and benediction!’
“The mother’s testament to her children, which was found after her death, in 1773, in her writing-desk, was as follows: ‘Dear children, cling to the Saviour, to his merits, to his faithful heart; and do not love the world or what is in the world. For all is passing, and but mere dust of the earth. Nothing can last with us through life and in death but the blood of Jesus, the grace of God, communion and friendship with him. Seek for this; do not rest until you possess it; and then hold it fast; this will help you through until we are with him; oh! let not one, not one remain behind. I will always watch over you, and will hasten to meet you with open arms when you come after me. Watch and pray!’
“We can understand without difficulty from this how Count Stolberg could say, ‘Christ, the Saviour of the world, was the guiding star of my youth. Our parents desired nothing more earnestly than that we should seek him, love him, and confess him before the whole world. I have always regarded that as my highest duty, which necessarily led me into the Catholic Church.’”
In this sketch of Count Stolberg’s parents and early home, we see the old-fashioned simplicity and piety of the best sort of the ancient Lutheran nobility of Germany. There is a sombre and austere character in the picture, partly belonging to the national temperament, but chiefly due to that shadow of sadness which Protestantism in its more earnest phase casts over the practice of virtue and religion. The count himself, as is well known to all, while preserving all that was good and truly Christian in the principles and habits given him by his early education, cast aside its sectarian prejudices and errors to embrace the Catholic religion. In him, as the model of a perfect Christian gentleman and scholar, to quote again the language of the writer in Der Katholik,
“was gloriously fulfilled the wish expressed by Lavater (a Protestant) in a letter to the count. ‘Become an honor to the Catholic Church! Practise virtues which are impossible to a non-Catholic! Do deeds which will prove that your change had a great end, and that you have not failed to gain it. You have saints, I do not deny it: we have none, at least none like yours. Be to all Catholics and non-Catholics a shining example of that virtue which is the most worthy of imitation and of Christian holiness.’”
We have been tempted into a digression which will, we trust, not be ungrateful to our readers, and find that we have not been able to bring our series of short articles to a close in the present number, as we had hoped to do. We must therefore resume the same subject after another month, and we trust that our gentle readers, upon their summer excursions, will find time and inclination to listen to one more brief moral instruction.