Our Money-Makers
“Thus, when the villain crams his chest, Gold is the canker of the breast; Tis avarice insolence, and pride, And every shocking vice beside; — But, when to virtuous hands Uis given, It blesses like the dews of heaven; Like heaven, it hears the orphans’’ cries And wipes the tears from widows’* eyes
Gay.
“Abundance is a blessing to the wise, The use of riches in discretion lies; Learn this, ye men of wealth, a heavy purse In a foors pocket is a heavy curse.
Cu7nberland ’s Menander.
“Thou shalt remember the Lord
thy God, for it is he that giveth thee
power to get wealth J’’ Deuteronomy
8:18.
Wealth is a comparative term, A man worth ten thousand dollars, living in a humble village among poor people, may be considered immensely wealthy; while a man living in New York must own a million or more to be labeled as wealthy by his neighbors. But wealth in a general way means money, or what may be turned into money, whether it be much or little. The makers of wealth may, therefore, be placed in two classes — capitalists and laborers. The laborer works directly for money, the capitalist makes money work for him.
In some parts of Africa a man’s wealth is estimated by the number of wives he owns, because the wife and the slave work for him, and increase his income. When he gets a little surplus, he simply buys another wife or slave. In America, instead of buying wives and slaves,
41 the capitalist buys a bond or a piece of property. The motive is the same. He wants that bond or piece of property to work for him by bringing in interest, while he is engaged about something else.
The capitalist is a laborer, for it takes work to look after money as well as to make it, and the laborer is a capitalist to the extent of his savings. His mind, muscle, and nerve are also capital. Labor is capital and makes capital, while capital demands labor.
Into the lives of all money-makers, whether they be rich or poor, there come lights and shadows. Let us look first at the lights.
One of the brightest is the fact that the power to make money is the gift of God. ‘* It is he that giveth thee power to get wealth.” There are men, like Agassiz, who have not time to make money, because their lives are taken up with other things. There are callings, like the ministry, in which it is not expected that money-making shall be the principal object, and when money making does become the object, the calling is debased. And yet the ability to make money is as sacred a gift as the ability to preach. If you have the money-making faculty, thank God for it, and lay it upon his altar. Stand erect among men devoted to a noble calling. Pity it is that men should ever regard their power to make money as peculiarly their own, and never think to thank God for it. It sometimes leads them to declare independence of the Lord. They make money their god, while their souls become as yellow and hard as the gold they worship.
Another ray of light is the comforts that money brings. It pays the rent, supplies the table, clothes the body, and educates the mind.
But let it be remembered that the opportunity for self-denial may be a ray of light in the life of every money-maker. If we have not money, we must deny ourselves. There is little merit in that; but, if we have money and choose to deny ourselves, in order that we may help others, there comes to us a joy inexpressible. Chaplain McCabe tells of a little church in a small village that was encumbered by debt. The membership was poor, but they determined, after much prayer, to make an effort to pay off the mortgage. James Gould rose in the meeting, and said that he and his wife had talked over the matter, and they had decided that the house of God must be free of debt, even if their own home had to be mortgaged. They had, therefore, raised a sum of money, which they wished to give to the church, by placing a mortgage upon their home. The tears that Gould and his wife shed were not tears of regret. The light of joy sparkled through them. There was a strange thrill about their hearts.
It was the joy of the Lord who sacrificed himself for us. Other members of the church caught the spirit, and more than the amount needed was soon raised.
Still another ray of light is the influence which the ability to make money always gives. Philip of Macedon said: “We seek empire by money, and not money by empire.” He knew that money was power, and the ability to make money carries with it influence. It implies industry, economy, patience, perseverance, and many sturdy qualities that make true manhood. The possession of money is not proof that a man is good or great. It may be an index to his rascality. Neither is the possession of poverty proof that a man is good or great. It may be the index to his laziness or dishonesty, by which he has lost reputation and credit. But the ability to make money honestly gives one a standing which he may use for the glory of God.
The brightest ray of light is the pleasure of doing good. Paul wrote to Timothy: “Charge them that are rich in this world that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good, that they be rich in good works.” The rich man is here permitted to enjoy all the things with which God has blessed him, but while he enjoys them let him not forget that they give him the opportunity and ability of doing good, and thus becoming rich in a wealth that will last when gold and silver have ceased to be coin current. There is a blessedness in the act of giving, for Jesus said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Giving cleanses. “Give alms,” said Jesus, “of such things as ye have, and behold, all things are clean unto you.” About the foulest thing on earth is the money of a man who has not given a portion of it to doing good.
All money-makers should give at least one-tenth of their income to God. If you do so, you are a first-class Jew; and no Christian, in the matter of giving, should ever fall short of the Jewish standard. But you who have money invested, drawing interest, should “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” Your invested money works on the Sabbath day. It draws as much interest on the seventh day as the first, so that in addition to the one-tenth of the six days’ income, ought you not to give one-seventh of the interest which has accumulated upon God’s days?
But money-making has its shadows, and one of the darkest shadows is cast by a bad business. If your business is hurtful to your neighbor, debauching him in body and mind, you cannot think of it with pleasure. A poor drunkard fell into the gutter in front of a saloon, and a mischievous boy pinned a placard upon his coat written in large letters, “Specimen of the work done inside.” When the saloon-keeper came out and saw it, he fumed with rage, tore the placard to pieces, and swore at the boy. His rage was produced by the consciousness that he was doing wrong; his swearing was simply the vent of an unhappy spirit. When the rich brewer sees the rags and wretchedness caused by drink, he cannot enjoy his wealth, if his conscience has not been seared with a hot iron. He must hear in his dreams and waking visions the wail of the orphan, the moan of the widow, the shrieks of the maniac, the groan of the broken-hearted, caused by the curse of drink out of which he has made his money.
Fred Charrington, who is now at the head of one of the greatest missionary works in London, was at one time a clerk in his father’s brewery. Through the testimony of an American preacher, talking to him in the compartment of a railway coach, young Charrington accepted Christ, and consecrated his life to his service. He began at once to do philanthropic work among the poor, opening night schools, and teaching the ragged children the way of life and virtue. He soon found that the greatest obstacle in the way of the progress of his philanthropic work was the public houses, most of which had his father’s name upon the signs. He said to himself, “I must quit either the business of making drunkards or curing drunkards. I work at night to cure drunkards and during the day to make drunkards.” God gave him the victory, and he decided to leave the brewery business and keep on in the work of saving men. His father, in a fit of rage and disappointment, disinherited him, but before his death he relented, and gave to the son the money which he has been using for the glory of Christ and the uplifting of East London. The light of his new career and character is driving away the shadows of former days.
The saloon is the upas shade of the world. It poisons, withers, and damns the man who sells as well as the man who drinks, and it is a sad fact that the liquor business is being attached to some of our large dry goods stores. It is easy now even for women and children to have the fire of death sent to their homes, with bundles of dress goods or toys. No respectable man or woman should even buy a spool of thread from such a store.
Again: If your money is made by dishonest methods. It will cast a shadow upon your life. Legitimate business may be debauched by illegitimate methods of making money.
Young Adam Clarke was told by his employer that he must stretch the cloth in order to make the required number of yards, but Adam’s conscience was not so elastic as the cloth he refused to stretch, and he frankly told his employer that he would leave the store rather than be guilty of a dishonest trick. The employer allowed him to leave, and as a result we have Adam Clarke the Commentator blessing the world by means of his character and writings. If he had consented to stretch that cloth, he would doubtless have lived and died an unknown, unhappy wretch, making money in dishonest ways, if not serving his time in the penitentiary.
Money-making with a low motive will also cast a shadow. What object have you in view? Has your ability to make money been prostituted simply to money-making? Is it now a great greasy game with you? Has it become play, or war? Do you wish to make money just as a football team wishes to win by gaining a higher score? Are you simply ambitious to excel, and to have it said that you own more money than others? If so, John Ruskin draws your picture in the following words: “The first of all English games is making money. That is an all-absorbing game, and we knock each other down oftener in playing at that than at football, or any rougher sport, and it is absolutely without purpose. No one who engages heartily in that game ever knows why. Ask a great money-maker what he intends to do with his money, he never knows. He does not make it to do anything with it; he gets it only that he may get it. What will you make of what you have got? you ask. Well, I will get more, he says. Just as at cricket you get more runs. There is no use in the runs, but to get more of them than other people is the game, and there is no use in the money but to have more of it than other people in the game. So all that great vile city of London there, rattling, growling, smoking, stinking, a ghastly heap of fermenting brickwork pouring out poison at every pore. You fancy it is a city of work. Not a street of it. It is a great city of play, very nasty play, and very hard play, but still play. It is only Lord’s cricket ground without the turf, a huge billiard table without the cloth, and with pockets as deep as the bottomless pit, but mainly a billiard table after all.”
Making money, just for the sake of making money, is not apt to make manhood. I have heard of a Scotch Laird who made his servant pay him a shilling an hour for working in his own garden, that he might enjoy with the recreation the intense pleasure of accumulating. A Mr. Taylor, of London, who had amassed a 4 fortune, decided while on his death-bed that he would give a thousand pounds to some benevolent object. While the committee were drawing the papers, the dying man said: “Gentlemen, will you not allow me ten per cent, for cash payment?” They of course agreed, and the miser died, pleased with the thought that he had made one hundred pounds by a sharp bargain. You may not be as mean as old Ostewalde, the Parisian banker, who refused to order beef for his broth while he was dying, because he could not think of what he would do with the beef after he had drunk the broth. You may not be as mean as a man I knew, who refused to get up on a Sunday morning and go with his wife to church, unless she would pay him regularly ten cents for the effort, acknowledging to a friend that he had been so accustomed to act with a view to making money that he had become incapable of action without it. These may be extreme cases of littleness and meanness; but making money for the sake of making money is apt to result sooner or later in a character exceptionally mean. The inspired record, in this as in all other things, is true: “The love of money is the root of all evil, which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.” Money itself is not evil; the love of it always is, and every man who has money is either master or slave. If his money owns him, he is a slave. If he owns and uses his money, he is a master. If his money owns him, he will do the bidding of money without regard to truth, and the result will be that he is pierced through with many sorrows. His whole life becomes one shadow of evil. He gropes and clutches and creeps and crawls in dust and darkness, but never soars. His money is a weight that drags him down, never a wing that lifts him up. “A man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth.” An over-estimate of money, or an over-confidence in money casts gloomy shadows.
I would like to give to every money-maker the secret by which he may flood time and eternity with light. It does not depend upon the amount that you make or possess. It will hold in hard times or good, whether the gold or silver standard prevails. It is never affected by political, social, or commercial revolutions. In the midst of turmoil and confusion it gives peace. In work it gives rest. In perplexity it gives confidence. In despair it gives hope. We owe the secret to the Lord Jesus himself when he said: “Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal.” How stands your bank account in heaven? Are you transmuting the seen and the temporal into the unseen and eternal, by using your money in making character which will last through eternity? Money here makes for itself wings and flies away. It has no wings in heaven.