studded with rows of dilapidated houses on either side, each of which
seemed to give ample evidence of the wretchedness existing within. Here
he encountered three “ministers of mercy,” who visited this locality
on pretence of relieving the wants and distresses of the people. Their
holy mission at once arrested his attention, and claimed his regard.
How happy the influence of charity, reflected he, coming like the sweet
sympathy of angels to bless this suffering community. It was a maxim
of Plato, that the “end and aim of all human actions is some good;”
and in no other channel can more be accomplished than in the one in
which these seemingly worthy men appeared to be engaged. Who can ponder
upon the mission of the noble vivandiere, the providence of the French
soldier, as he sees her following the camp, extending to the weak and
weary, the disabled and fatigued, the hand of help and hospitality,
without feeling how small are all things compared with human sympathy
and love? Her self-sacrificing and sublime benignity,--attending the
rough warrior in his danger, relieving him when in want, aiding him
when in distress, ministering to him in sickness, tenderly raising
him when he falls upon the field of carnage and providing a place of
safety, binding his wounds with her salves, her balsams, and her rolls
of soft linen, and freely sharing her delicacies, her smiles, and her
good wishes,--gives us a foretaste of that eternity of bliss which
shall be the just reward of the good, after a separation from the
blighting struggles, and contentions, and jealousies of human life. How
well for the world were each a vivandiere, alike in peace and in war!
What suffering would be driven from our midst, what misery averted,
what wretchedness reclaimed, what happiness dispensed around! Peter
imagined he here saw an imitation of her example, and it acted like
a charm upon his easy nature. How sad, then, was the sudden change
of his feelings when he discovered his mistake, and ascertained that
these were nothing but shrewd pretenders after all, who had succeeded,
by cunning and hypocrisy, to secure somewhat of a reputation for
honesty and charity. Affecting religiously to help the poor, they were
only magnanimously helping themselves, at the expense of the little
generosity left in the community. How often, thought he, do people
obtain credit for possessing a “big heart” just because they have none
at all?
Peter was no longer inclined to follow these unworthy administrators
of the public bounty, and turning round he beheld a small, hump-backed
individual, who at once excited his interest. There was something
peculiarly repulsive in this man’s countenance, which invariably
prompted all who came in contact with him to put their hands into
their pockets and their fingers upon their purses. Peter was not
long in ascertaining that he was a broker and usurer, who, following
his profession in the midst of these poor and humble creatures,
seemed to fatten upon their poverty as does the vulture upon its
unfortunate prey. Whenever Peter relates this incident of his dream,
he declaims with all the vehemence he possesses. These inhuman and
unfeeling wretches, he declares, are the most formidable servants of
the devil, and always inherit his qualities to so eminent a degree
that no stranger could distinguish the servants from the master. As
the hawk pounces upon the helpless and trembling little sparrow, they
fasten their greedy talons upon the tatters of a ragged dress with
inextricable clutch; and as the savage beast licks the gore of its
victim, they suck the blood of theirs until crimson to the dewlap and
purple to the elbows. Pandora let loose her horde of evils to trouble
the world, said the heathens. The Christian acknowledges that God has
not so restricted the power of Satan as to prevent him from sending
his scourges upon the earth, of which he has liberally availed himself
by establishing his agents in the form of usurers and brokers in every
section of the world. Of old, they were justly regarded as little
better than murderers, and decidedly worse than thieves; for, says Cato
in Cicero, “our ancestors enacted in their laws, that a thief should
be condemned to pay double, but an usurer quadruple.” The Jew has at
least bigotry and prejudice, inherited from his fathers for nearly
two thousand years, to offer as an excuse when he robs the Gentile,
and yet it is a common saying, “that every day he takes an oath to
do what he can to cheat the Christians;” but these indiscriminately
plunder heathen and Christian, exhibiting no emotion beyond a satanic
chuckle over their success. They are ravenous pests who speculate upon
poverty and misfortune, and digest the misery around them with savage
glee--knaves who, for want of souls themselves, seek to crush the
souls of the unfortunate and distressed, apparently finding happiness
in their agonies, and nectar in their tears. Ah! thought Peter, what
worthy denizens of the pit they will make, and what amusement they will
afford to their master in their efforts to prey upon each other, for
doubtlessly they will follow their unrighteous trade, as the only one
fit to be pursued in hell!
Easy Peter regarded this as truly an afflicted street when he was
drawn from the usurer to the rendezvous of the speculators. Amid the
wretchedness and poverty of this locality, there was an abundance of
ill-gotten gain, as he had sufficient opportunity to witness. These new
visions of his dream had assembled for the purpose of making a renewed
effort in their swindling schemes, and were engaged in revolving
their plans with evident satisfaction. Brigands have their leaders,
pirates their captains, and these, brigands and pirates sanctioned by
society, had their master spirit too. The common bands of freebooters
generally select as their chiefs the most desperate and daring amongst
them--these had elevated the most heartless to equal distinction.
Peter watched them framing their lies, and fortifying them with
plausibility, and pronounced the loathsome mass a fit dish for public
gullibility to digest. Here were schemes for particular purposes and
special individuals--there preparations for each, however large or
limited his means. Their enterprises had but a single basis: a design
to enrich themselves, at whatever cost to their fellows. This one end
had swallowed up every principle of integrity, every entity in morals,
every sympathetic impulse of the heart. The misery and distress, the
tears, and suffering, and despair, necessarily occasioned by their
deceptions, and frauds, and robberies, never disturbed their quiet,
but were simply regarded as pleasing comicalities to amuse them whilst
pocketing the plunder. Homer assures us that the profession of the
robber was regarded as glorious by some of the ancients, and Plutarch
informs us that amongst the Spaniards his exploits passed for gallant
adventures. Though we punish the bold and daring rogue, without making
the least allowance for his hair-breadth escapes, the treacherous
plunderer in our midst, who does not even possess the redeeming
trait of physical courage, receives our countenance and esteem. As
Peter was witnessing this excellent illustration of selfishness and
thievery, which a credulous people first pay dearly for and then
honor, their operations were interrupted for a moment by the entrance
of the Chief, or President of the band, in company with a well-to-do
looking individual, on whose arm he was affectionately leaning. They
had been friends for many years, and through the false yet plausible
representations of the former, the latter soon fell into the snare.
Unsuspectingly he became the victim to their designs, and though he
left perfectly content, another revolution of the earth was certain
to find him a bankrupt. It is true, reflected Peter, that villany is
often disguised under the garb of friendship, and where we most confide
suspicion is most required.
Peter now heard a great noise in the street, and hurrying to the place
from whence it proceeded, he witnessed a grand display of pugilistic
skill. What had given origin to the quarrel he was unable to ascertain,
yet so bitter was the rage of the antagonists, who numbered some dozen
or more, that it had already lasted a considerable time, nor did it
seem to be in the least abating. There were but two spectators to the
scene, one of whom appeared to be much frightened and concerned, and
was using every persuasion to pacify the heated combatants. The other
looked calmly on, perfectly composed at what he saw, until unable to
contain himself any longer, he approached his friend and very mildly
addressed him: “Sir, I crave your pardon for having been amused at
your generous but mistaken efforts to quell this foolish quarrel. You
must know that there are those in this strange world of ours who have
totally blunted every feeling of refinement, and utterly destroyed
whatever moral sensibility they may once have possessed. Upon such your
honest appeals are always in vain. That they should not be entirely
placed beneath mortality, however, God has kindly endowed them with a
physical sensibility, through which you may often successfully reach
their depraved minds and obdurate hearts. You have appealed to the
moral feelings of these rioters to no purpose; and now, to demonstrate
what I have said, let me ascertain what impression can be made upon
their physical sensibilities.” Thus saying, he threw off a portion of
his cumbersome apparel, and giving notice that he had watched their
proceedings for upwards of an hour, he declared that the battle must
now be ended. This proving ineffectual, he entered into their midst,
and making several (to use a technical phrase,) “feel the unpleasant
weight of his fists,” he soon dispersed the boisterous crowd. An odd
mode, thought Peter, of making peace, yet in this instance a very
effectual one.
Immediately after quiet had been restored, the street suddenly became
very populous, and Peter’s attention was arrested by the occupant of
a splendid conveyance, who was industriously engaged in answering the
polite recognitions that greeted him from every side. That this was a
personage of no little distinction seemed so evident that Peter asked
of the first passer-by what place of trust or honor he filled to such
general satisfaction. The inquiry simply elicited the information that
he was a private gentleman, who had succeeded in amassing great wealth
by taking usury from the poor, and selling worthless stocks to all whom
he could deceive into a purchase. He was but one of many illustrations
of what Juvenal has written,
“That sins alike unlike rewards have found,
And whilst this villain’s hang’d, the other’s crowned.”
Though every one knew him to be a rogue and a thief, the good condition
in which his practices had placed him, secured public obeisance. What a
multitude of sins, thought Peter, can be covered by a coach, and what
monstrous respect we extend to the knave when blessed with the smiles
of fortune!
Turning from the occupant of the coach, Peter beheld a singularly
ludicrous, but withal a very distressing spectacle. A poor,
poverty-cursed creature was dying of starvation, whilst a wealthy
gentleman, who had been pitying him for days, was tenderly bending over
him and deploring his great distress, but could not so much open his
heart as to reach into his well-filled purse and draw forth a paltry
dollar to give relief. Strange, thought Peter, that men will whine, and
fret, and lament, over human misery and suffering, and yet so fastly
clutch a shilling as not to use it freely in obtaining aid and giving
succour.
As Peter was gazing upon this unhappy scene, a smiling little gentleman
crossed his path, whom he was now compelled to follow. This interesting
individual appeared to be the friend of all whom he encountered, being
exceedingly social and affable. His friendly greetings were always
returned with the same politeness, though frequently with much less
affection. He had acquired a great reputation for benevolence, which
so elicited Peter’s esteem that he was pleased with every mark of
attention exhibited towards him. It was a maxim of the Stoics that
“men were, for the sake of men, brought into the world, that they
might assist and benefit each other,” and Peter fancied he here saw
one, at least, who lived up to this magnanimous aphorism. This good
opinion, however, was suddenly changed upon reaching his residence and
discovering that he was the head of a mongrel banking institution, and
so well adapted to his business that he experienced little difficulty
in defrauding and plundering his customers, even whilst swearing how
much he designed to befriend them. He was extremely pleasant to all in
front of the counter, and though profusely lavish and exceedingly fair
in promises, these were only made to afford him amusement in devising
the most ingenious modes in which to break them. He had long robbed
the State of its just portion of the dividends, used the funds of the
institution in fraudulent transactions, and placed them out secretly
at usury. After thus plundering thousands, he very generously gave
a little of the booty in charity to the poor. How very easy it is,
thought Peter, to win a good name, if you but know how to play the
hypocrite behind a fortune.
When Peter emerged from the bank, his eyes encountered a character
whose odd appearance at once challenged his notice. He seemed to “take
the world extremely easy,” being quite philosophic in his indifference
to passing events, yet prided himself upon always rendering full
justice to mankind, and their good and evil practices, their virtues
and their vices, their errors and their follies. Peter ascertained that
he had been suddenly raised, by some fortunate occurrence, from abject
poverty to considerable wealth. The cruel manner in which he had been
neglected when poor by many whose flatteries now daily greeted him,
had somewhat soured his disposition; and although he was generous to
those who had once befriended him, he felt little sympathy for the
rest of the species. Peter learned that he had engaged to give to a
stranger, who contemplated removing his residence to that place, some
knowledge of the people, their character and habits. Nothing could have
been more gratifying to Peter Easy, so he kept close to his heels until
he arrived at the corner of one of the principal streets, the place
appointed for their meeting, where he found the stranger in waiting.
There, said he to the stranger, as a poor, though apparently happy
individual passed by, is a personation of honesty. With such a man, the
old peasants used to say, “one may safely play at mora in the dark.”
This, however, is a very questionable compliment in our day, and has
brought him nothing but poverty as his reward, than which few evils
could be greater under our present social organization. Possessed of
a good nature, and feeling a proper interest in the welfare of his
friends, he never refused to extend his helping hand, until he has been
placed in the deplorable condition of being compelled to hunt for aid
himself. A task, thought Peter, which Pluto should have devised for
human punishment, instead of providing a hades.
The short gentleman, continued he, who has just passed, is an honored
and skilful follower of a profession which has acquired considerable
note in the world, though now it must be practiced secretly. What has
occasioned this interdict is not easily discovered. Should you say to
that gentleman that an improved moral public opinion caused it, he
would merrily take your arm, and by leading you to a number of highly
respectable resorts, soon show you how much, at least in practice, the
majority is on the other side. It is said of the old Germans, that in
their passion for gaming, they often staked their persons upon a die,
and if unsuccessful, patiently became slaves. The world has made of
human life nothing but an uncertain game, in which the shrewdest cheats
frequently obtain the greatest honor. No wonder, then, that many who
would not purchase heaven by a little inconvenience, never hesitate to
follow in the German’s wake, profiting if successful, and enduring if
unlucky. That gentleman’s skill has thus far saved him. When he first
came amongst us, one of his bachelor kin was reputed wealthy, whilst
he was designated as the only heir. Notwithstanding his professional
practices, which were of course not taken into account, he married a
most respectable citizen’s daughter, who had long been angling for an
heir: but the bargain has proved an unprofitable one after all. His
wealthy kin, becoming intimate with his pretty housekeeper, eventually
married her--thus establishing a different order of succession. Ah,
thought Peter, “the best laid plans o’ men and mice gang aft aglie,”
and the foolish dreams of fickle maidens often end in a life of good
repentance.
Yonder, sir, is another professional gentleman, but his profession is
of a different cast. He mistook his calling, and without possessing
any brain, desired to become a lawyer, but has failed even to make a
tolerable pettifogger. I am assured that his teacher, who swore that
his skull was so “miserably thick” that scarcely an idea could be
battered into it, constantly importuned and urged him to venture upon
some learned profession, having been fully persuaded, from observation,
that the stupidity which he so eminently possessed, was one of the
most essential qualifications for such an undertaking. I have advised
him to turn his attention to medicine, as being better suited to his
calibre, and in which he might perhaps prove more prosperous, or at
least find greater security for his deficiencies. He still clings to
his profession, however, and having thus far maintained his dignity by
constant calls upon his acquaintances, he is now prepared to cheat them
all. A practice, thought Peter, quite common, but no one need expect
to pass through the world without contributing his quota towards
supporting the drones that are in it.
There, sir, you may rest assured you see a moral man. Never mind his
rags, for you must know that young men, morality, and fine linen,
seldom go together in this world, where fathers invite libertines
to their houses, where mothers welcome the attentions paid to their
daughters by noted debauchees, and where young maidens themselves
prefer a smile from wealthy licentiousness to a nod from virtuous
poverty. Though he is neither Godwardly nor manwardly crooked,
which should secure him esteem in a world of such great pretence
to excellence, he has sufficiently experienced that virtue, when
contrasted only with its present social rewards, is but an “empty name,
a phantom, an abject slave, exposed to the insults of fortune,” as
the dying Roman Stoic has declared. He has been tempted enough, but
relying upon the self-approval which has never abandoned him, this has
only made him a more shining example. I proclaim to you, upon better
authority than my own, that there is a resting place provided for the
troubled, and that men like he will inherit it. Thanks, thought Peter,
for the happy prospect of adding another to the names in my little
volume. [Here it must be explained that Peter had long kept a small
book, in which he had written the names of all whom he personally
encountered during his life, and who, he supposed, might stand a
respectable chance of profiting by the exchange of worlds to be made
at their last gasp; but thus far he had occasion to call it into
requisition only on three several occasions. The third time, however,
having discovered his own deception, he used it to amend by erasing one
of the names previously registered there.]
You see yonder group of three: the one is a petty printer, the other an
unscrupulous politician, and the third an independent voter. Altogether
there is wit enough amongst them to make one tolerable fool, and heart
enough to make one paltry villain. The first endeavors to persuade the
public that the second is an honest and patriotic citizen, for which he
receives the common rewards of the political toady: a pleasant smile
and lavish promises to begin,--a bitter curse, worse treachery, and a
parting kick, to end; the other has already been in office for a time,
and has stolen sufficient for another campaign; whilst the third is
just preparing to increase his shouts for the good of the country, for
which he demands a greater indulgence to his appetites. The palate is a
marvellous channel through which to obtain distinction and preferment,
an easy manufactory of good opinion, extorting pledges of eternal
friendship with astonishing rapidity, and clinching a kind conclusion
with emphatic precision. The old maxim has it, that “you may easily
pin down a fellow’s nose to a full table,” and much of the success
and distinction in the world has no better basis. The aspirant yonder
knows full well how to avail himself of this one of our good-natured
imperfections, and having duped the people once, through its aid and
the assistance of his companions, this success has emboldened him to
make another effort. Beware of them all, for though they may be loud in
their declamations and vociferous in their patriotic demonstrations,
they still answer Seneca’s description,--“their liberty consists
principally in stuffing their bellies”--and may yet incur the general
ridicule instead of obtaining the public plunder. The most serious
public matters, you know, are often made the merest farces, and the
frequent promotion of knaves as often incurs no paltry penalties, as
you may learn from that red-faced individual approaching this way.
“Mankind,” says an old philosopher, “are not so happy, as that the best
things shall have the most patrons and defenders;” and notwithstanding
the habits of that officer, he has been elevated to the chief position
of this place, and now sits in judgment upon all offenders. His first
morning task is to meet his friends at the “Stag’s Head” yonder, his
second to feast upon and imbibe the wherewith to maintain his ruddy
hue, and his third to reel to his office, open his judicial council,
and dispose of the drunken or offending creatures who may have been
taken into custody during the night, not so much for ill behaviour
as to provide a paltry fee for the police. Of course, a police whose
rewards depend upon the number of unfortunate creatures that may fall
into their clutches, cannot be remarkably cautious upon whom they
exercise their authority, nor measure personal freedom by any very
exact or liberal scale. Nothing beyond the prospect of a few picayunes,
thought Peter, is required to make men’s vision double, and cause them
to discover heinous offences where the disinterested and humane only
see matter for merriment or pity.