COVETOUSNESS PUNISHED
THE COUNT KEPT HIS WORD. BEFORE the end of autumn a conveyance arrived at the Pine Farm to take away the old farmer and his wife. When the time actually came for their departure, their son grieved to part with them, though he would not oppose it, because he knew they would be much happier, though he felt at the same time that his own life would be even more miserable than before.
His wife, in the meantime, had been rejoicing at the prospect of getting rid of them; but her joy was rather damped by an order in writing which the Count's messenger handed to her. It was legally drawn up, and required her husband to pay regularly every quarter, into the nearest bank, the value of the board and maintenance with which he was bound by his agreement on taking the farm to supply his parents, and the value of this was calculated at a very high rate. She saw in an instant that the payment of this could not be avoided, and she stormed with anger. "It will save us nothing after all," said she; "if they had stayed here they need not have cost half as much."
The young man inwardly rejoiced that the Count had sent a written agreement like this, which would enable him to give the money to his parents without his wife having the power of preventing it, but he took good care to conceal his pleasure. The old couple got into the conveyance sent by the Count and departed. Their son bade them farewell with tears in his eyes, but his wife continued hardened and insolent to the last.
This wicked woman's avarice, however, was soon after signally punished. Instead of investing her money securely at a moderate rate of interest, as her husband advised her to do, she insisted on risking the whole of it in the hands of a speculator, who promised to pay her ten percent. The foolish woman believed all he told her, and her greatest pleasure was in calculating how rich she would be if her money accumulated at this rate of interest. But she was soon rudely awakened from her golden dreams.
The scheme of her speculating friend failed, and he became a bankrupt. This was a fearful blow, and for many months she neither slept nor rested nor allowed her husband any rest. She went back and forward continually to the town, consulting with lawyers and men of business, and directing every step to be taken which might help to save at least a small remnant of her money, and punish the man who had been the means of her losing it. But after all her trouble she received only a very trifling sum, not enough to pay the law expenses which she had incurred. These were very heavy, for in her desire of revenge on the unlucky speculator, she had wholly forgotten expense and this last blow made her utterly desperate.
She had cared for nothing but her money, and her grief for her loss seriously injured her health. Her husband wished her to send for a doctor, but she would not hear of the expense. She had recourse to a miserable impostor who was selling quack medicines at a cheap rate; and after taking what he gave her, she became much worse. Her husband, who had felt himself more master at home since her boasted money was gone, sent for a doctor without consulting her; but so angry was she at his daring to act without her consent, that in her rage she threw the medicines the doctor had sent for her out of the window and persisted in taking the quack medicine.
The good minister of Erlenbrünnen, hearing of her illness, came to see her. He did all in his power to rouse her sleeping conscience, to awaken her to a sense of her danger, to raise her mind from dwelling perpetually on earthly things, and to lead her to repent and turn to God, whom she had so long forgotten. But his kind visits and good counsels only served to irritate her. She was offended at his speaking so plainly to her.
"In truth," said she to one of her neighbors, "I cannot understand what the minister means by preaching repentance to me, as he is continually doing. All he says would be very true if he were speaking to the man who has treated me so horribly, for he is really a great sinner, and needs to repent; but as for me, I have done nothing to reproach myself with. I have led a blameless life.
"Ever since I was a child I have gone regularly to church on Sunday, at least when the weather did not prevent me. I have said my prayers every day. I have been industrious and thrifty, a good manager, and a hard-working woman. I never cheated anybody of a penny, and I have never sent away a beggar from my door without giving them help. What more would he have had me do? Far from blaming me, I thought the minister would have given me great credit and considered me one of the most religious women in the parish."
The good minister saw that his words made little impression; and though she did not speak so openly to him as she did to her neighbors, he could nevertheless see the state of her mind from the few words she said to him. He felt it his duty to speak still more plainly. He spoke to her of the two great commandments of the law, love to God and to our neighbor, and he tried to lead her to examine herself by this high standard. He pointed out to her that so far from giving to God the supreme love of her heart, she had loved nothing but money, and made her gold her god—that the thrift, the industry, and good management on which she prided herself were only a part of the worship she paid to this idol, and therefore, so far from being virtue, they were idolatry.
He spoke to her also of her open transgressions of the law of love as regarded others; of her insolence and unkindness to her husband; her undutiful behavior to his parents, whom she ought to have considered as her own; her cruel treatment of the poor orphan whom they loved, and her tyrannical conduct to all those under her authority. He told her that so far from her giving alms to a beggar at the door being charity, it seemed to have been merely a sop to soothe her conscience and to make her believe herself a charitable person, while she was neglecting all the duties and the large benevolence which the possession of such a fortune as hers had made obligatory on her.
He told her that churchgoing was but an empty form when she did not truly worship God there, and that she could not worship God either in church or anywhere else while an idol reigned in her heart. As long as her heart was given to idolatry, her prayers and her services were but a mockery and only served to aggravate her guilt. He explained to her the story of the Pharisee and the publican and tried to lead her to come to God with the publican's spirit. And while he thus strove to awaken her conscience, he spoke to her also of the love of Christ, of all that He had done and suffered for sinners, and of His willingness to receive her still, if even now she would go to Him as a sinner needing pardon.
But the miserable woman refused to listen; her conscience was completely hardened; and she only began to weep and lament, saying that she was the most unhappy creature in the world, that nobody felt for her, nobody pitied her for her misfortunes, and yet they were not of her own bringing on. "Even the minister," she said, "instead of comforting me as I expected, has turned against me and speaks of me as if I have been a wicked woman." So saying, she sobbed and refused to listen to another word.
The good minister, finding all his efforts vain, rose and left her, but not without a heartfelt prayer for her who prayed not for herself. As he left the house, he thought of the words of the Lord Jesus: "How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God!" (Mark 10:2323And Jesus looked round about, and saith unto his disciples, How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God! (Mark 10:23)). "When the love of money," thought he, "takes possession of the heart, how true it is that it becomes the root of all evil! This poor woman fancies that by a formal attendance at church she has fulfilled her duties to God, and by a crust of bread or a handful of meal to a beggar at the door, she has done all her duties to her neighbor. And, what is still worse, she fancies her idolatry of money, her very covetousness, which she misnames thrift and economy, to be a virtue! Ah," said he to himself as he passed the garden which James had made, "how sadly those people deceive themselves who suppose that happiness is only to be found in riches! With all her gold, this rich woman has never tasted one hour of the pure pleasure that James and Mary enjoyed in this very garden which she despises!"
The young farmer's wife had still much to suffer. Her cough became more severe, and her weakness increased daily; yet her avarice was so great that she would not allow herself anything to soothe or relieve her suffering. Without comfort for either mind or body, she lingered on.
The good minister often visited her, hoping against hope, still striving to lead her to Christ, unwilling to give up his labors and his prayers for her while her life lasted. As she became weaker, she sometimes answered him with less rudeness, but she gave no ground for hope. She died in the prime of life, the victim of ungoverned passion and of covetousness-a melancholy example of the truth that the treasures of this world cannot give us happiness if we seek it in them; but that, on the contrary, trust in "uncertain riches" very often, even in this life, leads to distress and ruin.
Some lead a life unblameable and just,
Their own dear virtue their unshaken trust,
They never sin,—or if (as all offend)
Some trivial slips their daily walk attend,
The poor are near at hand, the charge is small,
A slight gratuity atones for all,
For though the Pope has lost his interest here,
And Pardons are not sold as once they were,
No Papist more desirous to compound
Than some grave sinners upon English ground.
That plea refuted, other quirks they seek,
Mercy is infinite, and man is weak:
The future shall obliterate the past,
And heaven no doubt shall be their home at last,
Come, then,—a still small whisper in Your ear,
He has no hope who never had a fear;
And he that never doubted of his state
He may, perhaps—perhaps he may—too late.
—Cowper