IRREGULAR IMPULSES OF DESIRE.

93 desires, however, impel us far more frequently to act with irregularity than with uniformity.

One great cause of irregularity, which is often more apparent than real, in the pursuit of a moral desire, is the fact that we frequently forego the direct attainment of a minor object of the same kind with the ultimate object of the desire, in order to secure the main object pursued. Thus, though the ultimate end of avarice is the enjoyment of pleasure through the possession of riches, and the obtaining a security against privation; yet those who are vehemently impelled by avarice, voluntarily both forego pleasure and endure privation, in order to gratify the desire itself, which is so powerful as to cause the very object of it to be neglected, in the determination to obey and follow its impulses. A corresponding result is effected in the case of the ambitious man, who neglects present honour and power, in order ultimately to secure a larger measure of it which he believes to be within his grasp.

A person under the strong influence of a moral desire, is like a hound in pursuit of a deer, which he keenly and steadfastly follows when he has once caught the scent of it; and continues to track it through a herd of others, and for many a weary mile until he has hunted it down, although those which he has passed by seem easily within his reach.

Even the reason itself, so regular in its ordinary operations, while aiding in the pursuit of a moral desire, seems occasionally to conduct itself irregularly and wildly. But although it is eccentric and uncertain as regards all the collateral efforts of a man under the dominion of a moral desire, as also with respect to its immediate objects; it is nevertheless ever steady and direct in its progress towards the attainment of the ultimate object in view. In this respect it might be compared to the course of rivers in a mountainous country, the general natural flow of which is towards the sea; but while the main currents ever roll steadily and powerfully in this direction, the lesser streams run irregularly and wildly, although all at last pour themselves into the principal river, and all alike contribute to swell the strength of its waters.

So irregular sometimes are the impulses of the moral desires, and the proceedings which they occasion, that they appear to be as nearly allied to, or as productive of insanity, as are the passions. Indeed, many acts of this kind, if regarded in themselves, seem to be caused by this disease and only differ from those which are exhibited while in this condition, from being strictly under the direction of reason. Several of the resorts too, to which our moral desires impel us, appear more like the ravings of madmen, than the effect of the deliberate reflection and cool calculation of a sober, sensible being. The result, however, is appealed to, to prove the rationality of the operation; although, this

result often fails, while the sanity of the individual remains unimpeached. Perhaps, indeed, in many cases the only essential distinction between the vagaries of madmen and of those impelled by the strong stimulus of moral desire is this: that while madmen pursue a mere phantom of the brain, which has no existence whatever save in their disordered fancy; men impelled by avarice and ambition do pursue something which really exists, and which they actually see, although that something, after all, may turn out to be but a shadow.

There can be no doubt, however, that in the case of intellectual and immortal beings, the pursuit of those objects which are celestial, insuring pleasure the most perfect, constitute at once, not only the highest and most legitimate, as well as the most exalted and really satisfactory objects of their moral desires; but that they are also those the desire for which is best calculated to counteract any debasing or demoralizing tendency which the pursuit of terrestrial objects is prone to produce.

5. The Moral Desire termed Avarice.

We now come to the particular and separate consideration of the moral desires themselves, which, as already observed, are respectively termed avarice and ambition. As regards the first of them, that of avarice, it has for its immediate object the possession of riches; and for its ultimate object, the enjoyment of those advantages which riches bring; as also in conjunction, and to a certain extent identical with such enjoyment, the avoidance of that indigence and deprivation which the want of riches may occasion.' To this desire the individual impelled by it is excited by mental irritation; and its operations correspond with those already described as peculiar to a moral desire.

Wealth, which is the immediate object of this desire, is indeed commonly wished for at first, not for itself, but for the advantages and enjoyments of various kinds which it promises to

• Dr. Abercrombie remarks that the desire of wealth is "commonly called avarice; though avarice is perhaps justly to be regarded as the morbid excess or abuse of the propensity."-On the Moral Feelings, pt. i. s. i.

1 Covetousness is termed by Cicero a disease of the mind.-Tuscul. Disp. on Perturb. of Mind, 11.

This, however, is directly at variance with the theory which I have here endeavoured to enunciate.-Vide post, b. iii. c. vii. s. 10.

Longinus says that the love of money is the canker of the soul's greatness. On the Sublime, s. 44.

St. Augustine defines covetousness to be a dishonest and insatiable desire of gain. And in one of his epistles he compares it to hell, which devours all, and yet hath never enough.-Lib. 3, De Lib. Arbit.

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insure to the possessor, and which form the ultimate object of this desire; until in time, by association, the very wealth itself becomes an object of delight. We are seldom, or never, covetous of things which will not bring us some eventual substantial good beyond and independent of themselves. Money is the most general subject of this desire, because it is the most general and efficient means of attaining different objects. The miser, moreover, generally prefers the money even to the object which might be obtained by expending it, because by expending it he gains but one commodity, whereas by hoarding it up he is conscious of being able to procure any commodity that he may wish for; or from time to time, as his fancy may change, a great variety of different objects.

Hence, a person under the dominion of avarice, is induced to hoard up his treasures for the purpose of enjoying the fruit of them, and finds himself unwilling to part with them, even though it were to apply them to the very end—the ultimate object for which he so painfully amassed them; as he is now loth hastily to let go what has occupied so much time and trouble in collecting, and which will require so much in replacing. He is probably induced in many cases to continue hoarding up his wealth, because he finds the prospective view of pleasure which it afforded, together with the actual pleasures derived from hoarding, greater than that of spending it. A miser may perhaps suffer nearly as much pain from the loss of one pound as from the loss of one hundred, because both form alike an impediment to his designs, and an abridgment of his power.

2

Money, which reduces all other things to a fixed value, is itself the most difficult of all things on which to place a just estimate. And alone from the two errors of undervaluing it, and overvaluing it, proceed many of the crimes, and most of the miseries of life. One half of the people in the world are careless about money, and so run into extravagance, and make themselves miserable from want; while the other half render themselves equally miserable by depriving themselves of things necessary, in order to secure that which is in reality serviceable only to save them from deprivation.

Some people regard and value money only for the good things that it will produce; others, on the contrary, appear only to value these good things according as they will produce money. Such persons prefer the shadow to the substance, the semblance to the reality.

An old writer3 truly observes that there is little or no differ

2 Plutarch considered covetousness to be one of the main causes of the misery of mankind.—Tom. 2.

3 Seneca, Morals.

ence between not wanting a thing, and having it. And doubtless, the most perfect condition as regards wealth in which we can be placed, is that negative one when we want nothing. This is, in reality, the condition of God Himself, and of God alone. As a person, however hungry, requires only to eat until his appetite is appeased; so a man can only enjoy riches so far as he has occasion, or is enabled to use them. All superfluity beyond this, so far from contributing to his comfort, can, in reality, only conduce to his concern. A man who has sufficient for all his wants, can no more add to his happiness by possessing more; than one who has a comfortable bed to lie upon, can increase his comfort by having three in his room instead of one, to either of which he may transfer himself at pleasure. The only possible gratification in this case is the reflection that he has the opportunity afforded to him of at any time making the change. Hence, while poverty and want of riches may occasion misery and destitution; it does not, therefore, by any means necessarily follow that the possession of riches, although it may insure us against poverty, will also produce happiness, or even contentment and comfort. Sufficiency is, in reality, all that we can require. Whoever lacks this, must expect discomfort; whoever exceeds it, will probably experience disquiet.

The essential defect of riches as regards their contribution to our happiness, is that, although we may possess them ever so completely and so controllably, we cannot by any contrivance make them a portion of ourselves. They are still absolutely independent of us, and separate from us; and the rich proprietor of an estate is no more a part of it, or it of him, than is the humblest labourer employed in its cultivation. All the use that we can make of riches of whatever kind, is only occasional, and very restricted, and uncertain. In reality, our actual possession of any substance so as essentially to convert it to our own advantage, and make it part of ourselves, is limited to an extent corresponding with what we see in the case of animals. The only things that we can avail of as our own, are the food which we eat, the articles that we hold in our hands, the habitations in which we dwell, the clothes that we wear, with which animals are provided by nature, and the children belonging to us. All these are so attached to our persons, as to form a collateral part of our frames. But beyond this, the sole power that we possess over property, is the ability to turn it to our own account, and to have the exclusive use of it; as is the case with the clothes and money at our command, and the lands under our control. The only real possessions are not those of property, but of person. The powers and endowments, whether of body or mind, that any man is gifted with, are essentially

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his own. The houses and estates to which he acquires the title, are not actually his. The utmost that he can do, is to direct their application in certain limited modes. The ploughman's robust son, who is heir to a sound constitution, is, in reality, far richer than the sickly son of the squire who is heir to every acre in the parish in which he resides.

Still, after all, there is hardly any power so great as that which wealth bestows. There is, in fact, scarcely a material advantage that it does not tend, indirectly at any rate, if not directly, to procure. Although entirely sensorial in its nature, yet of this class are the majority of those enjoyments which we most prize, and most covet. If its pleasures are perishing, so are the opportunities of partaking of them. And if its ecstasies are but short-lived, so is also our own existence upon earth. Nevertheless, riches, although they may purchase the means of comfort, cannot procure comfort itself, or either health or pleasure. The only contingencies they insure to us with absolute certainty, are care and anxiety. It is remarkable indeed, how very little the possession of the most unbounded wealth can really affect us as regards our personal condition, whatever it may do as regards objects and circumstances indirectly connected with, or bearing relation to us. Thus, the having at our command the wealth of the whole world, would not of itself alleviate one single pain, could not cure the toothache or a headache, or produce an hour's sleep, or even of itself half an hour's happiness, or substantial comfort. Affluence, indeed, may affect our external circumstances, which, in turn, may affect our comfort, so as to produce happiness. But its main use and influence in all these cases, is not so much to produce causes of pleasure or comfort, as to afford us the means of removing the causes of pain or discomfort. Riches are therefore, in reality, rather negative than positive as regards the ultimate result of their attainment.

It is probable that avarice developes itself in the mind, even earlier than ambition. True, as Dr. Priestley observes, a child only regards a coin as a plaything; but he is as covetous about his toys, and his sweetmeats, as a miser is about his money; and money too, he covets, as soon as he discovers the application to which it may be turned. A miser, indeed, only covets money, or at least does so originally, not for itself, but for the advantages that it may bring."

"If money go before, all ways do lie open."-Merry Wives of Windsor.

Priestley's Hartley, Int. Ess. 33.

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Helvetius remarks that penurious avarice Iderives its source from an excessive and ridiculous fear of the possibility of indigence, and of the many evils with which it is accompanied."-Essay on the Mind,

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