PROPERTY, OR WHAT A MAN HAS.
Epicurus divides the needs of mankind into three classes, and the
division made by this great professor of happiness is a true and a
fine one. First come natural and necessary needs, such as, when not
satisfied, produce pain,--food and clothing, _victus et amictus_,
needs which can easily be satisfied. Secondly, there are those needs
which, though natural, are not necessary, such as the gratification of
certain of the senses. I may add, however, that in the report given by
Diogenes Laertius, Epicurus does not mention which of the senses he
means; so that on this point my account of his doctrine is somewhat
more definite and exact than the original. These are needs rather more
difficult to satisfy. The third class consists of needs which are
neither natural nor necessary, the need of luxury and prodigality,
show and splendor, which never come to an end, and are very hard to
satisfy.[1]
[Footnote 1: Cf. Diogenes Laertius, Bk. x., ch. xxvii., pp. 127 and
149; also Cicero _de finibus_, i., 13.]
It is difficult, if not impossible, to define the limits which reason
should impose on the desire for wealth; for there is no absolute or
definite amount of wealth which will satisfy a man. The amount is
always relative, that is to say, just so much as will maintain the
proportion between what he wants and what he gets; for to measure a
man's happiness only by what he gets, and not also by what he expects
to get, is as futile as to try and express a fraction which shall have
a numerator but no denominator. A man never feels the loss of things
which it never occurs to him to ask for; he is just as happy without
them; whilst another, who may have a hundred times as much, feels
miserable because he has not got the one thing he wants. In fact, here
too, every man has an horizon of his own, and he will expect as much
as he thinks it is possible for him to get. If an object within his
horizon looks as though he could confidently reckon on getting it, he
is happy; but if difficulties come in the way, he is miserable. What
lies beyond his horizon has no effect at all upon him. So it is
that the vast possessions of the rich do not agitate the poor, and
conversely, that a wealthy man is not consoled by all his wealth for
the failure of his hopes. Riches, one may say, are like sea-water; the
more you drink the thirstier you become; and the same is true of fame.
The loss of wealth and prosperity leaves a man, as soon as the first
pangs of grief are over, in very much the same habitual temper as
before; and the reason of this is, that as soon as fate diminishes the
amount of his possessions, he himself immediately reduces the amount
of his claims. But when misfortune comes upon us, to reduce the amount
of our claims is just what is most painful; once that we have done so,
the pain becomes less and less, and is felt no more; like an old wound
which has healed. Conversely, when a piece of good fortune befalls us,
our claims mount higher and higher, as there is nothing to regulate
them; it is in this feeling of expansion that the delight of it lies.
But it lasts no longer than the process itself, and when the expansion
is complete, the delight ceases; we have become accustomed to the
increase in our claims, and consequently indifferent to the amount of
wealth which satisfies them. There is a passage in the _Odyssey_[1]
illustrating this truth, of which I may quote the last two lines:
[Greek: Toios gar noos estin epichthonion anthropon
Oion eth aemar agei pataer andron te theou te]
--the thoughts of man that dwells on the earth are as the day granted
him by the father of gods and men. Discontent springs from a constant
endeavor to increase the amount of our claims, when we are powerless
to increase the amount which will satisfy them.
[Footnote 1: xviii., 130-7.]
When we consider how full of needs the human race is, how its whole
existence is based upon them, it is not a matter for surprise that
_wealth_ is held in more sincere esteem, nay, in greater honor, than
anything else in the world; nor ought we to wonder that gain is made
the only good of life, and everything that does not lead to it pushed
aside or thrown overboard--philosophy, for instance, by those who
profess it. People are often reproached for wishing for money above
all things, and for loving it more than anything else; but it is
natural and even inevitable for people to love that which, like an
unwearied Proteus, is always ready to turn itself into whatever object
their wandering wishes or manifold desires may for the moment fix
upon. Everything else can satisfy only _one_ wish, _one_ need: food is
good only if you are hungry; wine, if you are able to enjoy it; drugs,
if you are sick; fur for the winter; love for youth, and so on. These
are all only relatively good, [Greek: agatha pros ti]. Money alone is
absolutely good, because it is not only a concrete satisfaction of one
need in particular; it is an abstract satisfaction of all.
If a man has an independent fortune, he should regard it as a bulwark
against the many evils and misfortunes which he may encounter; he
should not look upon it as giving him leave to get what pleasure he
can out of the world, or as rendering it incumbent upon him to spend
it in this way. People who are not born with a fortune, but end by
making a large one through the exercise of whatever talents they
possess, almost always come to think that their talents are their
capital, and that the money they have gained is merely the interest
upon it; they do not lay by a part of their earnings to form a
permanent capital, but spend their money much as they have earned it.
Accordingly, they often fall into poverty; their earnings decreased,
or come to an end altogether, either because their talent is exhausted
by becoming antiquated,--as, for instance, very often happens in
the case of fine art; or else it was valid only under a special
conjunction of circumstances which has now passed away. There is
nothing to prevent those who live on the common labor of their hands
from treating their earnings in that way if they like; because their
kind of skill is not likely to disappear, or, if it does, it can be
replaced by that of their fellow-workmen; morever, the kind of work
they do is always in demand; so that what the proverb says is quite
true, _a useful trade is a mine of gold_. But with artists and
professionals of every kind the case is quite different, and that is
the reason why they are well paid. They ought to build up a capital
out of their earnings; but they recklessly look upon them as merely
interest, and end in ruin. On the other hand, people who inherit money
know, at least, how to distinguish between capital and interest, and
most of them try to make their capital secure and not encroach
upon it; nay, if they can, they put by at least an eighth of their
interests in order to meet future contingencies. So most of them
maintain their position. These few remarks about capital and interest
are not applicable to commercial life, for merchants look upon money
only as a means of further gain, just as a workman regards his tools;
so even if their capital has been entirely the result of their
own efforts, they try to preserve and increase it by using it.
Accordingly, wealth is nowhere so much at home as in the merchant
class.
It will generally be found that those who know what it is to have
been in need and destitution are very much less afraid of it, and
consequently more inclined to extravagance, than those who know
poverty only by hearsay. People who have been born and bred in good
circumstances are as a rule much more careful about the future, more
economical, in fact, than those who, by a piece of good luck, have
suddenly passed from poverty to wealth. This looks as if poverty were
not really such a very wretched thing as it appears from a distance.
The true reason, however, is rather the fact that the man who has been
born into a position of wealth comes to look upon it as something
without which he could no more live than he could live without air; he
guards it as he does his very life; and so he is generally a lover of
order, prudent and economical. But the man who has been born into a
poor position looks upon it as the natural one, and if by any chance
he comes in for a fortune, he regards it as a superfluity, something
to be enjoyed or wasted, because, if it comes to an end, he can get on
just as well as before, with one anxiety the less; or, as Shakespeare
says in Henry VI.,[1]
.... _the adage must be verified
That beggars mounted run their horse to death_.
[Footnote 1: Part III., Act 1., Sc. 4.]
But it should be said that people of this kind have a firm and
excessive trust, partly in fate, partly in the peculiar means which
have already raised them out of need and poverty,--a trust not only of
the head, but of the heart also; and so they do not, like the man born
rich, look upon the shallows of poverty as bottomless, but console
themselves with the thought that once they have touched ground again,
they can take another upward flight. It is this trait in human
character which explains the fact that women who were poor before
their marriage often make greater claims, and are more extravagant,
than those who have brought their husbands a rich dowry; because, as
a rule, rich girls bring with them, not only a fortune, but also more
eagerness, nay, more of the inherited instinct, to preserve it, than
poor girls do. If anyone doubts the truth of this, and thinks that it
is just the opposite, he will find authority for his view in Ariosto's
first Satire; but, on the other hand, Dr. Johnson agrees with my
opinion. _A woman of fortune_, he says, _being used to the handling
of money, spends it judiciously; but a woman who gets the command
of money for the first time upon her marriage, has such a gusto in
spending it, that she throws it away with great profusion_.[1] And in
any case let me advise anyone who marries a poor girl not to leave her
the capital but only the interest, and to take especial care that she
has not the management of the children's fortune.
[Footnote 1: Boswell's Life of Johnson: ann: 1776, aetat: 67.]
I do not by any means think that I am touching upon a subject which is
not worth my while to mention when I recommend people to be careful to
preserve what they have earned or inherited. For to start life with
just as much as will make one independent, that is, allow one to live
comfortably without having to work--even if one has only just enough
for oneself, not to speak of a family--is an advantage which cannot be
over-estimated; for it means exemption and immunity from that chronic
disease of penury, which fastens on the life of man like a plague; it
is emancipation from that forced labor which is the natural lot of
every mortal. Only under a favorable fate like this can a man be said
to be born free, to be, in the proper sense of the word, _sui juris_,
master of his own time and powers, and able to say every morning,
_This day is my own_. And just for the same reason the difference
between the man who has a hundred a year and the man who has a
thousand, is infinitely smaller than the difference between the former
and a man who has nothing at all. But inherited wealth reaches its
utmost value when it falls to the individual endowed with mental
powers of a high order, who is resolved to pursue a line of life not
compatible with the making of money; for he is then doubly endowed by
fate and can live for his genius; and he will pay his debt to mankind
a hundred times, by achieving what no other could achieve, by
producing some work which contributes to the general good, and
redounds to the honor of humanity at large. Another, again, may
use his wealth to further philanthropic schemes, and make himself
well-deserving of his fellowmen. But a man who does none of these
things, who does not even try to do them, who never attempts to learn
the rudiments of any branch of knowledge so that he may at least do
what he can towards promoting it--such a one, born as he is into
riches, is a mere idler and thief of time, a contemptible fellow. He
will not even be happy, because, in his case, exemption from need
delivers him up to the other extreme of human suffering, boredom,
which is such martyrdom to him, that he would have been better off if
poverty had given him something to do. And as he is bored he is apt to
be extravagant, and so lose the advantage of which he showed himself
unworthy. Countless numbers of people find themselves in want, simply
because, when they had money, they spent it only to get momentary
relief from the feeling of boredom which oppressed them.
It is quite another matter if one's object is success in political
life, where favor, friends and connections are all-important, in order
to mount by their aid step by step on the ladder of promotion, and
perhaps gain the topmost rung. In this kind of life, it is much better
to be cast upon the world without a penny; and if the aspirant is not
of noble family, but is a man of some talent, it will redound to his
advantage to be an absolute pauper. For what every one most aims at
in ordinary contact with his fellows is to prove them inferior to
himself; and how much more is this the case in politics. Now, it is
only an absolute pauper who has such a thorough conviction of his own
complete, profound and positive inferiority from every point of view,
of his own utter insignificance and worthlessness, that he can take
his place quietly in the political machine.[1] He is the only one who
can keep on bowing low enough, and even go right down upon his face if
necessary; he alone can submit to everything and laugh at it; he alone
knows the entire worthlessness of merit; he alone uses his loudest
voice and his boldest type whenever he has to speak or write of those
who are placed over his head, or occupy any position of influence;
and if they do a little scribbling, he is ready to applaud it as a
masterwork. He alone understands how to beg, and so betimes, when he
is hardly out of his boyhood, he becomes a high priest of that hidden
mystery which Goethe brings to light.
_Uber's Niederträchtige
Niemand sich beklage:
Denn es ist das Machtige
Was man dir auch sage_:
--it is no use to complain of low aims; for, whatever people may say,
they rule the world.
[Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_.--Schopenhauer is probably here
making one of his most virulent attacks upon Hegel; in this case on
account of what he thought to be the philosopher's abject servility
to the government of his day. Though the Hegelian system has been the
fruitful mother of many liberal ideas, there can be no doubt that
Hegel's influence, in his own lifetime, was an effective support of
Prussian bureaucracy.]
On the other hand, the man who is born with enough to live upon is
generally of a somewhat independent turn of mind; he is accustomed
to keep his head up; he has not learned all the arts of the beggar;
perhaps he even presumes a little upon the possession of talents
which, as he ought to know, can never compete with cringing
mediocrity; in the long run he comes to recognize the inferiority of
those who are placed over his head, and when they try to put insults
upon him, he becomes refractory and shy. This is not the way to get
on in the world. Nay, such a man may at least incline to the opinion
freely expressed by Voltaire: _We have only two days to live; it
is not worth our while to spend them_ in cringing to contemptible
rascals. But alas! let me observe by the way, that _contemptible
rascal_ is an attribute which may be predicated of an abominable
number of people. What Juvenal says--it is difficult to rise if your
poverty is greater than your talent--
_Haud facile emergunt quorum virtutibus obstat
Res angusta domi_--
is more applicable to a career of art and literature than to a
political and social ambition.
Wife and children I have not reckoned amongst a man's possessions: he
is rather in their possession. It would be easier to include friends
under that head; but a man's friends belong to him not a whit more
than he belongs to them.