Part 6

XXII. My first position is, that he who enjoys the most delights, is the man who enjoys the fewest; and I might even say, he enjoys none at all; but although this is another enigma more puzzling than the first, I shall easily extricate myself from the difficulty of solving both the one and the other. I ask in the first place, can meat or drink afford pleasure or gratification to a man, who eats without being hungry, and drinks without being thirsty? every one will readily acknowledge, little or none; but in this manner, do such opulent men as hold a loose rein on their appetites, enjoy delectable objects. The objects anticipate the desires. Hunger does not await the food, thirst the drink, nor lust the concupiscence. How then? do they make use of that for which they have no inclination? in the beginning, no; in the progress and the end, yes. The opulent man, who gives himself up to pleasure, begins very early in his course, to acquire a habit of gluttony in all his passions; by which means, in a very short time, the least glimpse of desire attracts him to the object. Even though his passion has been quite stifled by the antecedent enjoyment, new craving scarce begins to revive in embryo, when he gives himself up to fresh satiety; and as at such a crisis, concupiscence must be very languid, the enjoyment of course can be but insipid. This habit, by the immense repetition of acts, goes on every day, acquiring more and more force, till it excites men at last to drink of the forbidden liquor, when they are not the least stimulated by thirst. Here you see a man arrived at a state, in which, without tasting pleasure, or being able to experience gratification, he continues to destroy his health, and shorten his life.

XXIII. But I have not yet explained all the evil. The worst is, that hunger and satiety come to be joined together. If I say that the rich man who is filled, is as sensible of hunger as the poor man who is really hungry; it will be thought that I am propounding a new paradox, or at least a new riddle. But this shall not deter me from speaking the truth. The hungry poor man hungers after food, the hungry rich one hungers after hunger itself. He who is distressed, and in want of what is precisely necessary, craves for aliment. The glutton, who after having filled his belly, sees his table covered with dainties, craves for an appetite. The first is unhappy, because he wants what is needful for him, the other, because he can’t enjoy what he has. There is little difference in point of pain or uneasiness, between him who is really in want of water, and him who is oppressed with a dropsical thirst.

XXIV. This depraved craving, this flame, which raises itself upon the ashes of another fire, worst or last disease of concupiscence, or of the concupiscence of the superior part of the soul, oppresses those much, who, when they attain the pinnacle of power, arrive at the summit of perverseness; whose whole pursuit, has been seeking provocations for the appetite, dainties to feed their sensuality, and extravagant incentives to inflame desire. In looking for the exquisite, they found the monstrous. Heliogabalus went so far, as to make a banquet, all composed of the combs of cocks. Nero exercised his lust, cloathed in the skins of wild beasts, which was a habit, well suited to the character of that brute. So extravagant were the abominations of other Emperors, that neither the course of so many ages, nor the fragrance of such number of saints as have lived since, have dissipated at Rome, the stink of the Princes of those times. But with all their solicitude, what did they obtain? Nothing; they only augmented the violence of a bad habit, and caused it to exert itself in loathing. Pleasure in the mean while fled away, like the water of Tantalus, which, notwithstanding he seemed to have it always within his reach, his excessive anticipation of laying hold of it, was the occasion of his not being able to obtain it. These people, with all their toil, only acquired anxieties of mind, sickness, and bodily pain. And it is worthy of remarking, that those who gave themselves up to gluttony and lust, became melancholy, peevish, and disagreeable; and it may be from this cause, that we have rarely heard of a Prince, who was lascivious and a glutton, in whom cruelty was not joined to those vices. Some of them came to be tired of themselves, for instance, the second Apicius, who, after gorging two millions and a half, deprived himself of life with a halter. What was this, but finding vanity and vexation of spirit, among the greatest: endowments of fortune? Do even the miserably poor, think you, lead so unsavoury and tiresome lives?

SECT. VIII.

XXV. Truly, I have now pursued the comparison of the one and the other fortune, through the most difficult part, having drawn into the parallel, the most elevated, and the most abased, the sovereign state, and that of beggary. I did not intend so much when I began to write this chapter, but the pen took a flight without my being aware of it, towards the extreme of both the extremities. So much was not necessary, but as it is done, let us suppose that we have conquered all the difficulty at the first onset; because, if he who is under the feet of fortune, is equal to him who treads the summit of her wheel; the reason is stronger, for supposing him who has no more than what is required to provide things that are precisely necessary, equal to the man, who is possessed of a princely fortune.

XXVI. The truth is, if we are to speak out, that he is not only equal, but superior. Upon a superficial view, the rich man appears to be better accommodated, and exposed to fewer inconveniencies than the poor one, but if you search to the bottom, you will find the reverse. The rich man has great abundance, and variety of delicious eatables; but do they taste more savoury to him, than his common coarse food to the poor one? no, nor so savoury, for the appetite with which the poor man sits down to table, more than compensates, for the advantage derived to the rich one by his excess. Of what consequence is it to the bees of Lithuania, a rude and unpleasant country, that they have not such beautiful and odoriferous flowers to gather from, as the bees of other countries; if from their own trifling and unpleasing ones, they extract the sweetest and best-flavoured honey that is to be found in all Europe? The rich man lays himself down on a feather-bed, but does he sleep more, or better than a poor one on a truss of straw? You see that the poor man, always rises chearful and pleasant, and that the other, often complains of having passed an uneasy night. How many people slept sweetly on the hard ground, the same night, that king Ahasuerus not being able to take rest, was constrained to amuse himself with reading the annals of his Kingdom! The rich defend themselves from the rigours of cold, with thick walls, tapestry hangings, and furred garments; but observe, and you will find, that they complain more of the intemperance of the season, shut up within the walls of their palaces, than the shepherd covered with skins, on the heights of the mountain. David, when he was grown old, found it difficult to defend himself from the cold, with all the covering he could put on, when at the same time, many antient labourers, with half the cloathing, made light of the frosts. You will see at every turn, an opulent man trembling, and expressing his extreme sensations of cold, whenever he is obliged to leave the fire-side, while at the same time, the common people are passing chearfully along the street. The same difference is observeable in summer. The rich man is low spirited and oppressed with lassitude, and scarce ventures to go up stairs or down; while the common people, with alacrity and chearfulness, apply themselves to whatever falls in their way. So that what Dionysius of Sicily, said of the golden cloak, which covered the statue of Jupiter, by way of furnishing a pretence to plunder it, may be applied to the riches of opulent people; which was, that a cloth cloak was better, because the golden one in winter, did not defend him from the cold, and in summer, it fatigued him with its weight. The opulent man, inhabits a capacious and commodious palace, and never contented, he is always thinking of enlarging or improving it, but the thought of his habitation being too confined, scarce ever occurs to a poor man in the whole course of a year.

XXVII. The rich man wears fine holland, the poor one coarse dowlas; but tell me, if you ever heard a poor man complain, that the roughness of the dowlas was unpleasant to, or gave him bodily uneasiness. The rich man is idle, and the poor one at work all the day; but you will not observe, that the poor man is more sad at his work, than the rich one in his state of indolence; on the contrary, and especially if he works in company, his time passes merrily, and he goes on singing and chanting through the whole course of his labour. When that is over, his relaxation is not like that of the rich, an insipid indolence, but sweet repose, and in the conclusion, soft and uninterrupted sleep recompences the labour of the day. The rich, on the contrary, (as sleep does not sit easy on members which have not been exercised,) restless and impatient, turns a thousand times in his bed; so that the poor man may be said to work by day, and the rich one by night. In case of going a journey, it is true, the rich man travels either on horseback or in a coach, and the poor one on foot. Notwithstanding which, the rich man is more sensible of the inclemency of the weather, and is much more affected by an incommodious lodging-room, a hard bed, and the want of refreshment than the poor one; to whom, by his being accustomed to them, such things are familiar, and consequently they do not make him uneasy. I, in my journies, have remarked, that the lad who attended me on foot, seemed much less sensible of the difficulties and inconveniencies of the road, than myself. You may add to this, the dread of thieves, from whom the poor have nothing to fear, when the rich, behind the trunk of every tree they come near, fancy they see a robber.

XXVIII. If we would weigh the pleasures of one and the other state, we should attend to the remark of Seneca before cited: _Inspice pauperum, & divitum vultus._ You will observe the poor, chearful in their conversation, laughing from their hearts at their rustic balls, and in all appearance truly happy: _Sæpius pauper, & fidelius ridet._ On the contrary, you will see the rich, even at their festive meetings, seem tired and surfeited. At least, happiness does not shine so brilliant in their countenances, as in those of the poor.

XXIX. All these disproportions, spring from, or grow out of one general principle, which is this; nature left to herself, is contented with a little, but by attempting to polish her, you fashion her into a fantastical lady, who craves every thing, and despises every thing. A human heart with three ventricles, in the year 1699, was presented to the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, as the most monstrous production that had ever been seen; but morally and politically speaking, it is a monster we see every day. The human heart, naturally contains but two large cavities; but if you fill these with worldly goods, a succession of others will begin to open, and others still without end. Pleasure and delight, are nothing to a man who does not consider and feel them as such, and no man considers that as a regale, which he is used and accustomed to; or which is adapted and familiar to his own sphere of life. Therefore delicate food, is delicate to him only, who has been used to eat plain victuals; but dainties, are familiar and common things to the man who has been accustomed to feed on them, and therefore, he craves something more exquisite. Even variety itself, to him who is used to vary his objects every day, that they may tally with his inclinations, loses all the enchantment which it originally contained. A poor man tastes more pleasure in feeding on a common fish at his own homely board, than Caius Hirtius, in eating with great pomp, his most regaling Murenas; and he is more happy, when he adds to his inheritance a foot of land, than Alexander was, when he added to his conquests the City of Tyre.

SECT. IX.

XXX. If we were to compare the anxieties incident to the one and the other state, as we have done the pleasures, we should find, that by much the greatest load of the first, would rest on the shoulders of the rich; either from the greater sensibility of the subjects, or from the greater magnitude, or multitude of their cares. The rich are of a delicate texture, liable to be moved and disturbed with every blast, or made of sonorous metal, which complains loudly at the gentlest touch. They may be compared to a well at Chiapa, a Province in New Spain, from which, by throwing in a small stone, you raise a horrible tempest. Hence the furious perturbations which in the opulent, are produced by slight causes. The Sultan Mahomed the Second, was seized with such a barbarous rage upon missing a melon out of his garden, that he ordered the stomachs of fourteen pages to be opened, to discover who had eaten it. And Otho Antonio, Duke of Urbino, ordered one of his servants to be burnt alive, for having neglected to wake him at the time he had appointed.

XXXI. The toils of the great are also more in number, than those of the poor. The larger the bulk of a man, the fairer mark he is for his enemy to hit; and the greater the amplitude of his fortune, the larger the space is exposed to the wounds of adversity. The rich are high towers, the poor humble cottages, and the ray of lightning, oftner discharges its fury on the tower, than on the cottage. One of the greatest temporal evils that can befal a man, is a broken constitution, as the greatest temporal blessing, is a robust state of health. And there is no doubt, but that with equal stamina, a poor man is more healthy than a rich one, because the last injures his health by his excesses, and the other, preserves his by his sobriety. Of what avail are all a great man’s riches to him, when he is oppressed by a fit of the gout? (and the gout, by the way, is a distemper which seldom attacks the poor.) I say what is he the better for them, if they cannot procure him a remedy for the evil, nor even obtain him the least ease or relief? While the fit lasts, he suffers pain; and when it is over, he endures the terrors and apprehensions of fresh attacks. Solomon pronounced the following sentence, which is applicable to all the rich: _Quid prodest possessori, nisi quod cernat divitias oculis suis?_ Of what other use are riches to a man who possesses vast treasures, than to feast his eyes with the sight of them. But the sentence is more strongly applicable, to an opulent man of a bad constitution, who is constantly ailing.

XXXII. A great man has more cares, and consequently more to vex him, than an humble one. More people are envious of him, and consequently he has more enemies. He is desirous of aggrandizing his fortune still more, and grieves at every little obstacle he meets with; which he considers as a steep rock in the way of his pursuits. From those below him, he expects more homage; and one only, as in the case of Mordecai and Haman, refusing to bend the knee to him, is sufficient to make him unhappy. He is anxious to be upon an equality with his superiors, and when he sees any one, whom he looks upon as his equal, or his inferior, step before him, he can hardly contain himself. There was a famous painter, named Francis of France, rich, both in possessions and fame. When this man was at Bolognia, he saw a figure of Saint Cecilia, which had been painted by Raphael of Urbino, for a church in that city; and seeing, and being sensible, how much he was outdone in the use of the pencil, by that incomparable artist, it so affected him, that he fell sick and died in a few days. It cannot be said with truth, that ever a poor man died from such a cause, or of such an affection.

XXXIII. Fears and apprehensions, in which are contained the most severe martyrdom of life; because by means of them, people endure all future, and all possible evils, have their very nests in the hearts of the great. He who is oppressed with evils, is always grieving; he who is possessed of goods, is always fearing: and what is more afflicting than perpetual terror? The dangers which threaten a great man, are in proportion to the possible cases, of others enriching themselves by despoiling, or murdering him; and though these are many, in his imagination they are still more; so that riches are acquired by toil, and preserved by anxiety. The inhabitants of Macasar, an Island in the Indian Sea, have a custom of drawing some of their teeth, and putting gold or silver ones in the place of them, which practice, cannot fail to be troublesome and hurtful to them. Can any thing favour stronger of barbarism, than the suffering a voluntary pain, only to gain an inconvenience? Those fall into the same mistake, who pant for, and are anxious in their pursuit after riches. They draw their teeth, that is, they undergo great suffering in order to acquire more wealth; and in the room of those they have parted with, they get teeth of gold and silver, yes, but these are teeth, which in the end, will feed on, and gnaw their own hearts. It is very remarkable, that in the age of gold and silver, (according to the description given, and the division made of the four ages by the poets,) there was no gold or silver to be met with, but these metals made their appearance in the age of iron. Thus Ovid, speaking of this age:

_Itum est in viscera terræ_ _Quasque recondiderat, Stygiisque admoverat umbris_ _Effodiuntur opes irritamenta malorum._ _Famque nocens ferrum, ferroque nocentius aurum_ _Prodierat, prodit bellum quod pugnat utroque._

XXXIV. The age of gold passed without gold, and was therefore the Golden Age, that is fortunate and happy. In the age of iron, there was gold, and on that account, it was called the Iron Age, that is, it was harsh and toilsome.

XXXV. Lucan, in his fifth Book of the Civil War, makes a fine digression upon the happiness of the poor boatman, Amiclas, when he paints Cæsar, in the silence of the night, tapping at the door of his cabbin to awake him, and make him rise, and carry him with all possible haste to Calabria. All the world was agitated, and trembling with the movements of the civil war; and within Greece itself, which is the theatre of the war, in the very neighbourhood of the armies, a poor boatman on dried sheep skins, sleeps without fear. The strokes of the generous leader at his door awake him, without producing the least surprize in his breast; for although he was not ignorant, that the whole face of the country was covered with troops, he knew very well, there was nothing in his cabbin to invite military insults. O life of the poor, exclaims the poet, in which is contained the felicity of being exempt from outrages. O poverty! thou greatest blessing of heaven, although not recognized or justly valued by men. What palaces or what temples were there, which enjoyed the privilege of Amiclas and his cabbin, neither of which, could be made to tremble at the strokes of the robust hand of Cæsar!

_O vita tuta facultas_ _Pauperis, angustique lares! O munera nondum_ _Intellecta divûm. Quibus hoc contingere templis;_ _Aut potuit muris, nullo trepidare tumultu_ _Cæsarea pulsante manu!_

XXXVI. It is not to be wondered at, that temples and palaces should be shaken, when cottages remain secure; because in temples and palaces, riches are kept, therefore in them, there is no being free from alarms. If we compare the fortune of Amiclas, with the lives of Cæsar and Pompey, who were all contemporaries; how brilliant were theirs, how obscure was his; but if you consider them prudently, how much preferable was that of Amiclas. Those ambitious heroes, whose elevated splendor, made the world regard them as two suns, were in reality no more than parahelions, or suns in appearance only, false reflections, stamped in the inconstancy of flying clouds. How far were they from happy, each being constantly tormented with the jealousy of the other’s power.

_Et jam nemo ferre potest, Cæsar ve priorem_ _Pompeiusve parem._

XXXVII. They contend for the Empire, hazarding in the competition, life and liberty. How each is possessed, with the fear of his rival becoming victorious; what miserable forsaken man, did fortune ever place in such a strait, that in order to better his condition, he should be obliged like Cæsar, in the dead of the night, to commit himself to the rage of a tempestuous sea? Amiclas, at the same time, knows no other cares, than those of exploring the sea, and spreading his nets to dry in the sun. Others are agitated and tossed about on the plains, and in the fields, while he is secure amidst the waves. He catches fish in the sea, while others on land fish for tempests. At the expence of a little labour, the water affords him as much as is necessary to support life; when the great fatigues of Cæsar and Pompey, serve only to precipitate on them a violent death. The din of so much martial noise, disturbs not his rest; while each of the two chiefs, finds in his own heart, a continual alarm to awaken him. He fears nobody, because no one covets his fortune; but if any body should be so prudent as to covet it, he may enjoy the same thing, without despoiling Amiclas. Cæsar and Pompey for the present, mutually fear each other. The vanquished person in future, fears all the world, and the conqueror has to fear all those who envy him.

XXXVIII. The heathen poets, feigned poverty to be a divinity, on account of the mischiefs it preserved people from, and the goods it produced; but Lucan, calls it the mother of great men; and Horace says, that to this deity, the Romans owed the virtues of a Curius, and a Camillus. Aristophanes the Greek, erred much in his description, when he represented her as a savage fury, always ready to commit acts of desperation. These extraordinary furies, are much more common among the rich, than the poor, although it is true, that they rage with the greatest violence, in such poor people as have been formerly rich; at least, during the time they are in the noviciate state of their misfortunes.

SECT. X.

XXXIX. I would not have it be understood, that by the eulogium I have just ended on poverty, I mean to speak of absolute poverty, but of the relative; not of the state of beggary, where people are in want of what is precisely needful; but of that limited moderation, which administers to nature, no more than what is absolutely necessary, and what her wants demand; and that, at the expence of bodily labour. In truth, when I speak of beggars, I am at a loss what to say, or what decision to make concerning them. On the one hand, I see them suffer great inconveniences, and on the other, I see many people betake themselves to that way of life, who could earn their living by their labour, and who prefer going from door to door, to working in the field, or even to leading an idle life in an alms-house. Henricus Cornelius Agrippa, in his Book on the Vanity of the Sciences, says of those who go about pretending to occult science, that they would not change their condition, for that of nobility; and I believe he says right.