The
son of a wealthy Englishman, whether noble or
not, is trained for service. He is regarded, and
taught to regard himself, as inheriting great
responsibilities with his great advantages; and
special pains are taken to prepare him for their
discharge. He is early sent to school, subjected
to a rigid discipline, physically hardened by
athletic exercise, and educated in all manly
arts as well as in Latin and Greek. At a later
stage, no matter what may be his "expectations,"
he is subjected to the routine of business. He
either studies a profession, or goes into a
counting-house; and is compelled to perform the
labor, and shoulder the responsibilities which
belong to the place. He thus acquires business
habits; and whatever may be his future fortune
or position, he is always able, and in nine
cases out of ten he is disposed, to bear a hand
in the practical business of life. Thus it comes
that in England the sons of the rich fill all
places of trust and of honor; not simply because
it is an aristocratic country and showers its
prizes on the well-born, but because, having the
best opportunities and the largest means to
qualify themselves for high duties, they have
availed themselves of them. The best lawyers,
the best merchants, the most thriving
manufacturers, the ablest judges, the most
promising members of Parliament in England, are
the sons of the rich.
How is it in this country, and especially in
this City? Is it not notorious that the ranks of
business of the professions of public life, are
filled up from every other class but that? How
many of the sons of our rich men will be found
among the most promising young men of the day,
in any department of activity? How many of them
are struggle for preeminence at the bar, or
preparing themselves to carry into still wider
fields and to greater heights the commercial
enterprise, which has made their fathers rich
and respected, or fitting themselves to be
legislators, writers, the leaders and guides of
public opinion, and the pillars of the State in
public life? No one thinks of looking to them
for such services as these. Recruits for all
these departments come from other ranks. It is
the children of the poorer classes who struggle
upward into honor and usefulness, and the
children of the rich become mere idle spectators
of a busy scene in which they have no part.
These are lamentable but indisputable facts. The
very class of young men which should furnish the
brightest ornaments and most useful members of
society, contributes at best but useless drones
men who live only to dissipate the fruits of
ancestral industry, and who become mere hangers
on, in a state where intelligent activity is the
sole condition of honor and of self-respect.
It is scarcely necessary to say that this result
is wholly due to the defective training they
receive in early life. Their fathers are the
parties responsible for so empty a conclusion of
what might have been a brilliant career. The
radical difficulty grows out of the fact that
acquiring money is regarded and treated as the
great end of life; and these young men, knowing
that their fortune is already secured, naturally
enough see nothing left worth laboring for.
Their fathers inspire and cherish the mistake,
not in words, but by their acts and the whole
tenor of their lives. They teach their children,
by their daily actions, by their social habits,
by the tone of their conversation, by that
general bearing and demeanor which exerts more
influence in a family than special inculcations,
that to be rich is the great object of life and
that to be useful, to be honored, to be worthy
of public trusts, and to aid in the advancement
of society, and the enlightenment or guidance of
our fellows, are secondary matters, to be left
to those whose poverty compels them into some
field of active exertion. Such lessons must
inevitably produce the empty results which those
who receive them, and society at large, have so
much reason to deplore.
But worse results than these are often seen to
follow. The training which a great proportion of
our young men receive, yields still more
deplorable fruits. It leads them, or at least
leaves them, to become spend-thrifts, devotees
of cice and pests to society. Their fathers,
with little personal attention and taking no
pains to secure for them a rigid discipline, go
through the form of sending them to a
fashionable City School, until they are twelve
or thirteen, supplying them even at that early
age with plenty of money, without teaching them
how to use it.
At an incredibly early age they find their
way to bar-rooms, and learn to smoke cigars, and
drink brandy. At the mature age of sixteen they
burst all bonds if ever there were such things
and appear in mannish attire, show themselves at
parties, and stay out late at night. About this
time their fathers, thinking probably that their
education is completed, place them in some
business not difficult of performance, and
requiring probably only punctual attendance of
mornings. To do our young men all possible
justice, they fulfill this portion of their
world duty punctually enough. No matter how late
he has been up the previous night, no matter
what species of debauchery or riot he has been
engaged in, the young man about town will always
find his way, with aching head and trembling
hand, to his office by a good business hour. And
this is all that his father seems to require. He
never asks how the night was spent, or in what
company, or how came those bleared eyes and
shaky hands. He knows that his son does not
spend his evenings at home, but he is too busy
or too heedless to ask beyond, Why should the
boy spend his evenings at home? What is there to
charm him in that great mansion that pulses with
alternate fever and gloom? one night a hot,
crowded party of rouged women and silly men; the
next a dull, desolate array of empty chambers,
with the tired master of the house, snoring on a
sofa, and his untiring lady and daughters
up-stairs dressing for another ball. No fireside
comfort to tempt the young man to his home.
Everything is huge, and splendid, and dismal;
and in self-defense he has to fly. He has not
been taught to love reading, and his frame has
been too artificially reared to render him a
willing gymnast. No, the billiard-room for him,
where he plays, and drinks, and swears with
precocious glibness when he makes an ill stroke.
From that to the gambling-house, where he
devours a luxurious supper, drinks champagne
gratis, and loses his twenty, fifty, or it may
be thousand dollars, at faro. From thence to
places even more unworthy of mention, where the
multiplication of cice in a thousand costly
mirrors is dwelt on as an attraction, and where
the youth learns the degradation of manhood long
before he has become a man.
All this is very sad, but it is very true. It is
a faithful, but a feeble picture of the
influences, the neglects of duty, the false
training which are converting into adepts in
vice, and useless, where they are not hurtful,
members of society, thousands and tens of
thousands whose position and opportunities would
designate them as shining lights, as pillars of
the State, guides and selected rulers of the
busy millions, the sure reliance and foremost
champions of every good and noble cause.
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