"WHICH IS THE HAPPIER: THE MILLIONAIRE OR THE PEASANT?"

Otago Witness, Issue 2924, 30 March 1910, Page 84

"WHICH IS THE HAPPIER: THE MILLIONAIRE OR THE PEASANT?"

By Emerald. In the debate I have elected to assist the side which -firms that the peasant is the happier. In the first place it is a trite but true statement that more one has, the mere one ' wants.' " Thus millionaires have usually been grabbing more or less all their lives to attain the position they now occupy, and they cannot now* lay aside the habit of years, nor counteract the instinct which forces them to go on grabbing till the end. This is one great reason for unhappiness amongst the millionaire population. The worry -which they have forced upon them, the continual strain which they are compelled to endure, makes life for them not worth living. Even if they do lay aside business, their. health has usually suffered during the time they have been amassing wealth, and they would give anything they possess to enjoy the rude health of the i peasant, to whom nothing comes amiss. Dyspepsia is a fertile source of unhappiness to the millionaire. Jay G-culd, the railway king, is reported to have said that he would I give all his riches for one day's enjoyment j cf good health. Again, the millionaire lives in a state of satiety: whether it he of worry, of pleasure, or whatever it is, he- is satiated with it. He has had so much of it that he no longer enjoys it. The man who has had great enterprises on hand, who has had to be continually on the alert for changes in the money market, who ha.s felt the continual strain, perhaps for years—the powers of such a man usually collapse when he relaxes work, is an elastic band does when the force . pulling it cut is relaxed. Health is the first thing we all enjoy, and no other possession ever makes up for the ",'093 of it. And we know who. are the healthy people without going so far away 'as millionaires to> discover them. The healthy class in any country or community is always the peasant population. Their free outdoor life secures this . for them. Their work in the open air, although perhaps it seems hard and irksome, strengthens them and makes them fit to mjoy life to the full. The very air in the country breathes health and seems to put new spirits into anyone. And millionaires as a rule do not lead the simple country life, for even if not immersed in the business of making money, they are usually immersed in something else which takes up their attention just as effectually. There is another notent cause of unhappiness to some millionaires, and 'that is "conscience." I say "some" advisedly. I i have no,wish to condemn millionaires'as a class, or say they are all troubled with the pangs r>f conscience. But some of them have oertainlv gained their wealth by "sweating" their fellow-men. and soone- or later this comes home to. thf>m. and "they would wish .to recall some of their actions. They then try to cultivate ha"r>'ness by giving away large sums to charitable or other institutions. and in this way try to silence "that still small voice" that keeps them from enjoy- . in? their wealth.

I am pressed for time at present, and am not able to think of any more original arguments, so will refer you •[•> the following quotations from some of our o-oet-s, who are continually voi-"!ncr the de-lights of a, peasant existence. First. . then, I will give you a short no?m. entitled "A Wish," and written by Alexander Pope: "Happy the man whose wish -nd care A few paternal acres bound. Content to breathe his 'native air

Tn his own ground; Whose herds with milk, wlicse fields ■with bread.,.. ✓ "Whose flocks supply him; with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter, fire. Blest who can unconcern'dly find Hours, davs. f?nd years' slid" sofftSway In (teplth of body, peace of mind, by day, sleep by night, study and ease Together mixed: sweet recreation And rnrroceriv'e. which most doth please, Wiib meditation. Thus let nw live unseen, unknown, Thus unlaniented let me die— Steal from tie world and not a stone Tell where I lie." Then Jamas Rn.-se'l Lowell writes, a poem, "The Poor and the-Rich.''. T have not time to write the whole poem, hut doubtless you are all acquainted with it: "TV-- ~V- ',*Wi con inherits lanrM, And piles of bricks and stone and gold, And h • inherit- »--fi white hands. And tender flesh that fears the cold, Nor dares to wear a garment old: A heritage, it seems to me, One woiild not cTre to hold in fee! The rich man's son inherits care?— The Iwjik may break, the factory burn, A breath may burst his huhble shares, And soft white hands could hardly earn A living that would suit his turn! A heritage, jt. seems to mie. One would not care to hold in fee! What does the poor man's son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, A hardy frame, a. hardier spirit— King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art: A heritage, it seems to mie, A king- might wish to hold in fee! What does the poor aan's son inherit? Wishes o'erjoycd with humble things— A rank adjudged by toil-worn merit.— Content that from enjoyment springs, A heart that in its labour sings: A heritage, it seems to mie, A king might wish to hold in fee! What does the poor man's son inherit? A patience learned by being poor;, Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it; A fellow-feeling that is sure To make the outcast bless his door: A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee! Oh. poor man's son! scorn not thy state, There is worse weariness than thine—• In merely being rich and great; Work only makes the soul to shine, And makes rest fragrant and benign: A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being poor to hold in fee!" I do not think I can conclude hetter than by quoting a short extract from Oliver Goldsmith, who had travelled in many lands and studied the ways of all classes of people: "111 fares the land, to "hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay! Princes and lords may flourish or may fade; A breath may make thern as a breath has

made. But a bold peasantry, tneir country's tiride. When once destroyed can never be supplied!"

By Cornish. For the' sake of nring-iing supposition and castle-building, in the hope of arriving at an intellectual conclusion, let us imagine that each individual member of our club is afflicted with anlimited wealth, and our clubroom for the nonce is a rendezvous of millionaires. Our clubrcom must necessarily be a triumph of the builder's .art, the soft glow of electric light displaying ,o the best advantage the rich ornamentation that our position enforces. Every known force must cater for our cmfort, and regal splendour must, be the atmosphere that gravitates around our every movement. Ou.. most respected of millionaires—Harry—presides, and, lolling back in a riehlj brocaded chair, with a hot air cushion to rest bis feet on, opens the meeting, and bids his private secretary do what work .'s necessary. The first business is to welcome several members who have been to a flying carnival in Paris, thence home by a private short circuit, which this distinguished club holds legal rights to. Continuing, Harry says he has had a. quiet week, having merely motored round the goldfields, and concluded by chartering the Lusitania for a week-end trip to the West Coast Sounds, and he apologises for his inactivity by blaming the unreliable weather for the mildness of the entertainment he has just indulged in. " Next 'week," he says, " I leave on Monday by pneumatic tube for London, thence by mbmarine to Vancouver, and finally by airship to Dunedin." Indian Chief, known as the " idle millionaire." says his happiness has been Ttidely disturbed by /eading in a health paper that a man curtails bis life by ten years should he be guilty of reposing until 10 a>m. daily, whereat all members feel the sands of their life running faster. From. this theme arises a discussion as to whether the ten years a millionaire forfeits are atoned for by the 'uxury he enjoys. Mean-while, as this Imipromptu debate goes on, ever practical Harry has despatched a footman to waylay the first peasant, and bring him into this gilded sanctuary, that we may have his testimony as to whether the extra, ten years he wins from Father Time by early rising compensate him for the heat of a noonday sun that ever strikes heavy on his toil-bent shoulders. This sample of the lower classes is ushered in, and suspects mischief, and it once assumes a pugilistic attitude, but .on being assured that no harm will come to him he awaits developments. The first query put to him is, "Are you happy?" . . He answers: "Me happy! Course I am! Ain't I got me pine, and the missis and the kids? Course I'm happy, though I ami respectable."

" Are your wages sufficient to meet your wants?"

He answers in a more serious mood: " Well, I won't deny as how there has been times when I didn't know where the next meal would come from, and I has seen winters when the cold came right throneh me threadbare coat, till I wondered why Providence sent those searching winds when the weather,was cold enc-uah without them." " Can you follow your inclinations as rehobbies?" " T ain't got no hobbies, and me motto is, ' Dodge trouble and do no harm where I can do no good.' " "Do you ever feel discontented?"

"I ain't got time for that! When my work is done there is lota t,o da at home, and should there be an idle hour the missis and me are qlways reckoning what we will do fov fhe kids when thev «iow vrd." "Would vou exchange places with us?" " ?vo f It's hard., enough to be a success in a little" place without running- the risk of being a- failure in a big- one. and, besides. t}>« kids wouldn't love their old dad so much if they didn't knew how hti struggled for them. That reminds m.e. they will be waiting up to say good-night, so I win be off now." The assembled millionaires each secretly ■fh-oujffTij: the neasant had the best of it in *He things that count in•• this wnrld, and thev -slinned away to their respective mansions with les« nitv in ■the''r hearts foi- the noo* labourer: for. Biter all, he ha-s hi«_ share of love, of sunshine, and has tie barriers to prohibit him from' dwelling in a healthy, honourable atmosphere.