He would devote his whole
strength to that work, and so be sooner done with it. Money, or
place, or even power, was nothing but a means to him: other men
valued them because of their influence on others. As his work in
the world was only the development of himself, it was different,
of course. What would it matter to his soul the day after death,
if millions called his name aloud in blame or praise? Would he
hear or answer then? What would it matter to him then, if he had
starved with them, or ruled over them? People talked of
benevolence. What would it matter to him then, the misery or
happiness of those yet working in this paltry life of ours? In
so far as the exercise of kindly emotions or self-denial
developed the higher part of his nature, it was to be commended;
as for its effect on others, that he had nothing to do with. He
practised self-denial constantly to strengthen the benevolent
instincts. That very morning he had given his last dollar to Joe
Byers, a half-starved cripple. "Chucked it at me," Joe said,
"like as he'd give a bone to a dog, and be damned to him! Who
thanks him?" To tell the truth, you will find no fairer exponent
than this Stephen Holmes of the great idea of American
sociology,--that the object of life is TO GROW. Circumstances
had forced it on him, partly. Sitting now in his room, where he
was counting the cost of becoming a merchant prince, he could
look back to the time of a boyhood passed in the depths of
ignorance and vice.
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