LETTER X. OF COMPETENCE.

Pretended sages announce to us, with sententious gravity, that virtue ought to be the single object of our desires; that, strengthened by it, we can support privations and misery without suffering. Useless moralists! Shall I yield faith to precepts which the experience of every day falsifies? It is only necessary, in refutation, to present a man who has broken his limb, or whose children suffer hunger.

His plan is wise, who examines, with a judgment free from ambition, the amount of fortune necessary to competence in his case, viewed in all its bearings; and commences the steady pursuit of it. Having reached that measure, if his desires impel him beyond the limit which,[84] in a more reasonable hour, he prescribed for himself, he henceforward strives to be happy by sacrificing enjoyment. He barters it for a very uncertain means of purchasing even pleasures. In this way competence becomes useless to the greater part of those who obtain it. Victims of the common folly, and still wishing a little more, they lose, in the effort to get rich, the time which they ought to spend in enjoyment. We see grasping and adroit speculators on every side; and, but rarely, men who know how to employ the resources of a moderate fortune. It is not the art of acquiring beyond competence, but of wisely spending, that we need to learn.

Our business in life is to be happy; and yet, simple and obvious as this truism is, the greater number disdain or forget it. To judge from the passions and objects that we see exciting man to action, we should suppose that he was placed on the earth, not to become happy, but rich.

To what purpose so many cares and studies? ‘That man,’ we are answered with a peculiar emphasis, ‘has an immense income.’ In his rare, brilliant and envied condition, if he does not vegetate under the weight of ennui, I recognise in him a man of astonishing merit.

The opulent may be divided into two classes. The employment of the one is to watch over their expenditures. The other study the mode of dissipating their revenue. Can I present, in detail, the cares and vexations which an immense fortune brings? The possessor leaves discussion with his tenants, to commence angry disputes with his workmen. From these he departs to listen to the schemes of projectors, or to the information of advocates. Is not such a result dearly purchased at the[85] expense of repose, independence and time? Would it not be better to relinquish a part of these possessions, in order to dispose, in peace, of the remainder? I admit that a man who devotes himself to lucrative pursuits is not overwhelmed with continual ennui. The banker respires again, after having grown pale over his accounts. A speculation has succeeded, and the enchantment of success banishes his alarms, fatigues and slavery. But he whose purpose in life is to secure as many happy moments as he can, and who sees how many innocent pleasures the other allows to escape him, would refuse his fortune at the price which he pays for it.

Another opulent class inherit fortunes acquired by the industry and sacrifices of their fathers. Rendered effeminate in a school, the reverse of that in which their fathers were trained, without resources in themselves, accustomed from infancy to have their least desires anticipated, under the influence of feeble parents, pliant and servile instructers, greedy servants and a seducing world, their appetite is early palled, and every pleasure in life worn out.

But suppose the rich heir brought up as though he were not rich, destiny places before him a strange alternative. If he succeed in resisting desires which everything excites and favors, what painful struggles! If he yield to them, what effort can preserve him an untainted mind? The experience of all time declares the improbability that he will resist. So many pretended friends are at hand to take up the cause of the present against the future, a cause, too, which always finds a powerful patron in our own bosoms! The pleasures of the senses have, besides, this dangerous advantage, that[86] before we have tasted them we are sufficiently instructed by the imagination, that we shall receive vivid and delightful emotions from their indulgence. We are not certain that pleasures of a higher class have a charm of enchantment until after we have made the happy experiment. Thus everything prepares the opulent for the sadness of satiety, moral disgust and ennui without end, the only suffering of life which is not softened by hope.

You will sometimes see these men at public places where they are professedly in search of amusement, giving no sign of existence except by an occasional yawn. Cast your eyes on those spectators who are alive to the most vivid enthusiasm. They are young students or mechanics who have economised ten days to spend an hour of the eleventh in this amusement![21] It is in clean cottages, in small but well directed establishments, that pleasures are vivid, because they are obtained at a price, and through industry and order. A festival is projected, or a holiday returns. Friends are assembled, and how blithe and free is the joy! A slight economy has been practised to supply the moderate expenses. There is high pleasure in looking forward to the epoch and in making the arrangements in anticipation. There is still more pleasure in the remembrance. When the interval which separates us from pleasure is not very long, even this interval has charms.

What a touching narrative is recorded of the suppers of two of the greatest men of the past age, of whom one was the Abbe de Condillac. Both were so poor that the expenses were reduced to absolute necessaries. But what conversations prolonged the repast, and with what[87] swiftness flew the enchanted hours! Neither great genius nor profound acquirements are necessary to enjoy evenings equally pleasant.

In an establishment of moderate competence, those who compose it rarely leave it. All the joys which spring up in the bosom of a beloved family seem to have been created for them. Give them riches, without changing their hearts, and they would taste less pleasure. New duties and amusements would trench upon a part of that time which had hitherto been sacred to friendship. More conversant with society, they would be less together. Receiving more visitants, they would see fewer friends. Transported into a new sphere where a thousand objects of comparison would excite their desires, they would, perhaps, for the first time, experience privations and regrets.

Women and young people taste the advantages which a retired, pleasant and modest condition offers only so long as they avoid comparisons of that lot with one which the world considers more favored. We must carry into the world a high philosophy, or never quit our retreat.

Persons even of a disciplined reason, just thought and a noble character, may grow dizzy, for a moment, with the splendor and noise of opulence, perceived for the first time. But as soon as they begin to blush and forfeit self-respect in tracing the causes of their intoxication, the scene vanishes, and, as they contemplate and compare, it is replaced by the sentiment of their own happiness. In the midst of the brilliant crowd they experience a legitimate pride in saying, ‘from how many regrets and cares am I saved! How many futilities are here, of which I have no need!’

[88]

But I shall be told that opulence has at least this advantage, that it attracts consideration. There is no doubt that many people measure the esteem they pay you by the scale of your riches. You will never persuade them that merit often walks on foot, while stupidity rides in a carriage.

But will a man esteem himself a philosopher, and take into his calculation the opinion of such fools as these? In a circle where opulence puts forth its splendor, when you experience a slight revulsion of shame in perceiving that the simplicity of your dress is remarked, ask yourself if you would change your mode of life, character and talents with those around you? If you feel that you would not, repress the weakness of wishing incompatible advantages; and resume the self-respect of an honest man.[21a]

To be satisfied with a moderate fortune is, perhaps, the highest test and best proof of philosophy. All others seem to me doubtful. He who can live content on a little, gives a pledge that he would preserve his probity and courage in the most difficult situations. He has placed his virtue, repose and happiness as far as possible above the caprices of his kind, and the vicissitudes of earthly things.

There are moments when the desire of wealth penetrates even the retreat of a sage, not with the puerile and dangerous wish to dazzle with show, but with the hope, dear to a good mind, that it might become a means of extended usefulness. When imagination creates her gay visions, we sometimes think of riches, and in our dreams make an employment of them worthy of envy. What a delightful field then opens before those who possess[89] riches? They can encourage the progress of science, and aid in advancing the glory of letters. How much assistance they can offer to deserving young people whose first efforts announce happy dispositions, and whose character, at the same time, little fitted for worldly success, is a compound of independence and timidity? How much they may honor themselves in decking the modest retreat of the aged scholar who has consecrated his life to study, and who has neglected his personal fortune to enrich the age with inventions of genius! They have the means of giving a noble impulse to the arts, without trenching upon their resources. A picture, which perpetuates the remembrance of a generous or heroic exploit, costs no more than a group of bacchanalians or debauchees. A career more beautiful still, is open to opulence. Of how many vices and how many tears it may dry the source! A rich man, to become happy, has only to wish to become so. He can not only immortalize his name as the patron of arts and useful inventions, but, what is better, can deserve the blessings of the miserable. Such pleasures are durable, and may be tasted, with unsated relish, after a settled lassitude from the indulgence of all others.[22]

Let not such seducing dreams, however, leave us a prey to ambitious and disappointing desires at our awakening. It is in the sphere where Providence has placed us, that we must search for the means of being useful; and if there are pleasures which belong only to opulence, there are others which can best be found in mediocrity. Perhaps, in giving us riches, we shall realize but half the dream of virtue and contentment. ‘It seems to me,’ says Plato, ‘that gold and virtue were[90] placed in the opposite scales of a balance; and that we cannot throw an additional weight into one scale, without subtracting an equal amount from the other.’