: Andrew Carnegie
: An American Four-in-Hand in Britain
: Krill Press
: 9781518383984
: 1
: CHF 1.50
:
: Geschichte
: English
: 346
: DRM
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
The Gilded Age and the dawn of the 20th century are often remembered as an era full of monopolies, trusts, and economic giants in heavy industries like oil and steel. Men like John Rockefeller built empires and financiers like J.P. Morgan merged and consolidated them. The era also made names like Astor, Cooke, and Vanderbilt instantly recognizable across the globe. Over time, the unfathomable wealth generated by the businesses made the individuals on top incredibly rich, and that in turn led to immense criticism and an infamous epithet used to rail against them: robber barons. 



Dozens of these men would be pilloried as 'robber barons,' but few of them were as wealthy or influential as Andrew Carnegie, who built America's foremost steel empire. Ironically, Carnegie epitomized the American Dream, migrating with his poor family to America in the mid-19th century and rising to the top of the business world in his adopted country. A prodigious writer in addition to his keen sense of business, Carnegie was one of the most outspoken champions of capitalism at a time when there was pushback among lower social classes who witnessed the great disparities in wealth; as he once put it, 'Upon the sacredness of property civilization itself depends-the right of the laborer to his hundred dollars in the savings bank, and equally the legal right of the millionaire to his millions.' In a similar vein, he said, 'Those who would administer wisely must, indeed, be wise, for one of the serious obstacles to the improvement of our race is indiscriminate charity.' 



While Carnegie's rise and wealth didn't necessarily separate him from other 19th century business magnates, it was in the field of philanthropy that he left his most unique mark, even as it paved the way for others to follow his lead. One of his most famous quotes was that 'the man who dies thus rich dies disgraced,' and for the last 15 years of his life, he contributed to countless causes.

our search for external conditions as to his environment need not be continued. Ordinary laws are inapplicable—he was a law unto himself. How or why Shakespeare was Shakespeare will be settled when there shall be few problems of the race left to settle. It is well that he lies on the banks of the Avon, for that requires us to make a special visit to his shrine to worship him. His mighty shade alone fills the mind. True monotheists are we all who make the pilgrimage to Stratford. I have been there often, but I am always awed into silence as I approach the church; and when I stand beside the ashes of Shakespeare I cannot repress stern, gloomy thoughts, and ask why so potent a force is now but a little dust. The inexplicable waste of nature, a million born that one may live, seems nothing compared to this—the brain of a god doing its work one day and food for worms the next! No wonder, George Eliot, that this was ever the weight that lay upon your heart and troubled you so!

A cheery voice behind me. “What is the matter? Are you ill? You look as if you hadn’t a friend in the world!” Thanks, gentle remembrancer. This is no time for the Scribe to forget himself. We are not out for lessons or for moralizing. Things are and shall be “altogether lovely.” One must often laugh if one would not cry.

Here is a funny conceit. A worthy draper in the town has recently put an upright stone at the head of his wife’s grave, with an inscription setting forth the dates of her birth and death, and beneath it the following verse:

“For the Lord has done great things for us, whereof we are exceeding glad.”

The wretch! One of the wives of our party declared that she could not like a man who could think at such a crisis of such a verse, no matter how he meant it. She was confident that he was one of those terribly resigned kind of men who will find that the Lord has done great things for him in the shape of a second helpmeet within two years.

This led to a search for other inscriptions. Here is one which struck our fancy:

“Under these ashes lies one close confined,

Who was to all both affable and kind;

A neighbor good, extensive to ye poor,

Her soul we hope’s at rest forevermore.”

This was discussed and considered to go rather too far. Good Swedenborgians still dispute about the body’s rising again, and make a great point of that, as showing their superior wisdom, as if it mattered whether we rise with this body or another, any more than whether we wear one suit of clothes or another; the great matter being that we rise at all. But this good friend seems to bespeak rest forever for the soul. One of us spoke of having lately seen a very remarkable collection of passages from Scripture which seemed to permit the hope that all for whom a kind father has nothing better in store than perpetual torture will kindly be permitted to rest. One of the passages in question was: “For the wicked shall perish everlastingly.” The question was remitted to the theologians of our party, with instructions to give it prayerful consideration and report.

Everlasting Punishment.

If there be Scriptural warrant for