No man shall ever be poor that goes to himself for what he wants; and that is the readiest way to riches. Nature, indeed, will have her due; but yet whatsoever is beyond necessity is precarious, and not necessary. It is not her business to gratify the palate, but to satisfy a craving stomach. Bread, when a man is hungry, does his work, let it be never so coarse; and water when he is dry; let his thirst be quenched, and Nature is satisfied, no matter whence it comes, or whether he drinks in gold, silver, or in the hollow of his hand. To promise a man riches, and to teach him poverty, is to deceive him: but shall I call him poor that wants nothing; though he maybe beholden for it to his patience, rather than to his fortune? Or shall any man deny him to be rich, whose riches can never be taken away? Whether is it better to have much or enough? He that has much desires more, and shows that he has not yet enough; but he that has enough is at rest. Shall a man be reputed the less rich for not having that for which he shall be banished; for which his very wife, or son, shall poison him: that which gives him security in war, and quiet in peace; which he possesses without danger, and disposes of without trouble? No man can be poor that has enough; nor rich, that covets more than he has. Alexander, after all his conquests, complained that he wanted more worlds; he desired something more, even when he had gotten all: and that which was sufficient for human nature was not enough for one man. Money never made any man rich; for the more he had, the more he still coveted. The richest man that ever lived is poor in my opinion, and in any man’s may be so: but he that keeps himself to the stint of Nature, does neither feel poverty nor fear it; nay, even in poverty itself there are some things superfluous. Those which the world calls happy, their felicity is a false splendor, that dazzles the eyes of the vulgar; but our rich man is glorious and happy within. There is no ambition in hunger or thirst: let there be food, and no matter for the table, the dish, and the servants, nor with what meats nature is satisfied. Those are the torments of luxury, that rather stuff the stomach than fill it: it studies rather to cause an appetite than to allay it. It is not for us to say, “This is not handsome; that is common; the other offends my eye.” Nature provides for health, not delicacy. When the trumpet sounds a charge, the poor man knows that he is not aimed at; when they cry out fire, his body is all he has to look after: if he be to take a journey, there is no blocking up of streets, and thronging of passages, for a parting compliment: a small matter fills his belly, and contents his mind: he lives from hand to mouth, without caring or fearing for to-morrow. The temperate rich man is but his counterfeit; his wit is quicker and his appetite calmer.
No man will ever be poor who goes to himself for what he lacks, and that is the quickest way to riches. Nature, indeed, will have her due. But whatever is beyond necessity is uncertain, and not necessary. It is not Nature’s business to please the palate, but to satisfy a hungry stomach. When a man is hungry, bread does the job, however coarse it is. Water does it when he is thirsty. Let his thirst be quenched and Nature is satisfied, no matter where the water comes from. It does not matter whether he drinks from gold, from silver, or from the hollow of his hand. To promise a man riches and then teach him poverty is to deceive him. But shall I call a man poor who lacks nothing, even if he owes it to his patience rather than his fortune? Or shall anyone deny that a man is rich whose riches can never be taken away? Which is better, to have much or to have enough? The man who has much desires more, and shows that he does not yet have enough. But the man who has enough is at rest. Shall a man be thought less rich for not having the wealth that could get him banished, or poisoned by his own wife or son? What he has instead gives him security in war and quiet in peace. He holds it without danger and uses it without trouble. No man can be poor who has enough, nor rich who covets more than he has. Alexander, after all his conquests, complained that he needed more worlds. He wanted something more even when he had gotten everything. What was enough for human nature was not enough for one man. Money never made any man rich, for the more he had, the more he still craved. The richest man who ever lived is poor in my opinion, and may be so in anyone’s. But the man who keeps himself to Nature’s allowance neither feels poverty nor fears it. Indeed, even in poverty itself there are some things beyond need. Those whom the world calls happy have only a false splendor that dazzles the eyes of ordinary people. But our rich man is glorious and happy within. There is no ambition in hunger or thirst. Let there be food, and never mind the table, the dish, and the servants, or what foods satisfy nature. Those are the torments of luxury, which stuff the stomach rather than fill it. Luxury works harder to stir up an appetite than to satisfy one. It is not for us to say, “This is not handsome, that is common, the other offends my eye.” Nature provides for health, not delicacy. When the trumpet sounds a charge, the poor man knows he is not the target. When a fire is cried out, his body is all he has to look after. If he is to take a journey, no streets are blocked and no passages crowded for farewell compliments. A small amount fills his belly and contents his mind. He lives from hand to mouth, without care or fear for tomorrow. The temperate rich man is only an imitation of him. The poor man’s wit is quicker and his appetite calmer.
No man finds poverty a trouble to him, but he that thinks it so; and he that thinks it so, makes it so. Does not a rich man travel more at ease with less luggage, and fewer servants? Does he not eat many times as little and as coarse in the field as a poor man? Does he not for his own pleasure, sometimes, and for variety, feed upon the ground, and use only earthen vessels? Is not he a madman then, that always fears what he often desires, and dreads the thing that he takes delight to imitate: he that would know the worst of poverty, let him but compare the looks of the rich and of the poor, and he shall find the poor man to have a smoother brow, and to be more merry at heart; or if any trouble befalls him, it passes over like a cloud: whereas the other, either his good humor is counterfeit, or his melancholy deep and ulcerated, and the worse, because he dares not publicly own his misfortune; but he is forced to play the part of a happy man even with a cancer in his heart. His felicity is but personated; and if he were but stripped of his ornaments, he would be contemptible. In buying of a horse, we take off his clothes and his trappings, and examine his shape and body for fear of being cozened; and shall we put an estimate upon a man for being set off by his fortune and quality? Nay, if we see anything of ornament about him, we are to suspect him the more for some infirmity under it. He that is not content in poverty, would not be so neither in plenty; for the fault is not in the thing, but in the mind. If that be sickly, remove him from a kennel to a palace, he is at the same pass; for he carries his disease along with him.
No one finds poverty troublesome unless they think it is. And whoever thinks it is troublesome makes it so. Doesn't a rich man travel more comfortably with less luggage and fewer servants? Doesn't he often eat as little and as plain food in the countryside as a poor man? Doesn't he sometimes choose to eat on the ground and use only clay dishes for his own pleasure and variety? Then isn't he crazy to always fear what he often wants, and to dread the very thing he enjoys imitating? Anyone who wants to know the worst of poverty should just compare how rich and poor people look. He'll find that the poor man has a smoother forehead and is happier at heart. If any trouble comes to him, it passes over like a cloud. The rich man, on the other hand, either fakes his good mood or suffers from deep, festering sadness. His sadness is worse because he doesn't dare admit his misfortune publicly. He's forced to act like a happy man even with a cancer in his heart. His happiness is just an act. If you stripped away his decorations, he would be pitiful. When buying a horse, we remove his blankets and gear and examine his shape and body to avoid being cheated. So should we judge a man's worth based on his wealth and status? No, if we see any ornaments on him, we should suspect him even more of hiding some weakness underneath. Someone who isn't content in poverty wouldn't be content in wealth either. The problem isn't with the circumstances, but with the mind. If the mind is sick, you could move him from a hovel to a palace and he'd still be in the same condition. He carries his disease with him.
What can be happier than the condition both of mind and of fortune from which we cannot fall—what can be a greater felicity than in a covetous, designing age, for a roan to live safe among informers and thieves? It puts a poor man into the very condition of Providence, that gives all, without reserving anything to itself. How happy is he that owes nothing but to himself, and only that which he can easily refuse or easily pay! I do not reckon him poor that has but a little, but he is so that covets more—it is a fair degree of plenty to have what is necessary. Whether had a man better find satiety in want, or hunger in plenty? It is not the augmenting of our fortunes, but the abating of our appetites that makes us rich.
What could be happier than having a state of mind and fortune that can't be lost? What greater joy exists than living safely among greedy schemers and criminals in our corrupt age? This puts a poor man in the same position as Providence itself, which gives everything while keeping nothing back. How happy is the person who owes nothing except to himself, and only what he can easily refuse or easily pay! I don't consider someone poor just because they have little. The truly poor person is one who always wants more. Having what you need is a fair measure of plenty. Would you rather find satisfaction in having little, or feel hungry despite having much? We become rich not by increasing our wealth, but by reducing our desires.
Why may not a man as well contemn riches in his own coffers as in another man’s, and rather hear that they are his than feel them to be so, though it is a great matter not to be corrupted even by having them under the same roof. He is the greater man that is honestly poor in the middle of plenty—but he is the more secure that is free from the temptation of that plenty, and has the least matter for another to design upon. It is no great business for a poor man to preach the contempt of riches, or for a rich man to extol the benefits of poverty, because we do not know how either the one or the other would behave himself in the contrary condition. The best proof is the doing of it by choice and not by necessity; for the practice of poverty in jest is a preparation toward the bearing of it in earnest; but it is yet a generous disposition so to provide for the worst of fortunes as what may be easily borne—the premeditation makes them not only tolerable but delightful to us, for there is that in them without which nothing can be comfortable, that is to say, security. If there were nothing else in poverty but the certain knowledge of our friends, it were yet a most desirable blessing, when every man leaves us but those that love us. It is a shame to place the happiness of life in gold and silver, for which bread and water is sufficient; or, at the worst, hunger puts an end to hunger.
Why may a man not despise riches in his own coffers as much as in another man’s? Why may he not rather hear that they are his than feel them to be so? Yet it is a great thing not to be corrupted even by having them under the same roof. The man who is honestly poor in the middle of plenty is the greater man. But the man who is free from the temptation of that plenty is the more secure, and he gives others the least to plot against. It is no great matter for a poor man to preach contempt of riches, or for a rich man to praise the benefits of poverty. We do not know how either would behave in the opposite condition. The best proof is doing it by choice and not by necessity. Practicing poverty in play is preparation for bearing it in earnest. Still, it shows a generous spirit to prepare for the worst fortunes as things that can easily be borne. Thinking them over beforehand makes them not only bearable but delightful to us. For there is something in them without which nothing can be comfortable, and that is security. If poverty held nothing else but the sure knowledge of our friends, it would still be a most desirable blessing. For then everyone leaves us except those who love us. It is shameful to place the happiness of life in gold and silver, when bread and water are enough. Or, at the worst, hunger puts an end to hunger.
For the honor of poverty, it was both the foundation and the cause of the Roman empire; and no man was ever yet so poor but he had enough to carry him to his journey’s end.
Poverty deserves honor because it was both the foundation and the cause of the Roman empire. No man was ever so poor that he lacked enough to reach his destination.
All I desire is that my property may not be a burden to myself, or make me so to others; and that is the best state of fortune that is neither directly necessitous, nor far from it. A mediocricity of fortune with a gentleness of mind, will preserve us from fear or envy, which is a desirable condition, for no man wants power to do mischief. We never consider the blessing of coveting nothing, and the glory of being full in ourselves, without depending upon Fortune. With parsimony a little is sufficient and without it nothing; whereas frugality makes a poor man rich. If we lose an estate, we had better never have had it—he that has least to lose has least to fear, and those are better satisfied whom Fortune never favored, than those whom she has forsaken.
All I want is for my property not to be a burden to me or make me a burden to others. The best financial situation is one that's neither desperate nor far from desperation. A moderate fortune combined with a gentle mind will protect us from both fear and envy. This is a desirable condition, since no one lacks the power to cause trouble. We never appreciate the blessing of wanting nothing and the glory of being complete in ourselves without depending on Fortune. With careful spending, a little is enough. Without it, nothing is enough. Frugality makes a poor man rich. If we lose an estate, we would have been better off never having it. The person who has least to lose has least to fear. Those whom Fortune never favored are more satisfied than those she has abandoned.
The state is most commodious that lies betwixt poverty and plenty. Diogenes understood this very well when he put himself into an incapacity of losing any thing. That course of life is most commodious which is both safe and wholesome—the body is to be indulged no farther than for health, and rather mortified than not kept in subjection to the mind. It is necessary to provide against hunger, thirst, and cold; and somewhat for a covering to shelter us against other inconveniences; but not a pin matter whether it be of turf or of marble—a man may lie as warm and as dry under a thatched as under a gilded roof. Let the mind be great and glorious, and all other things are despicable in comparison. “The future is uncertain, and I had rather beg of myself not to desire any thing, than of Fortune to bestow it.”
The most convenient state lies between poverty and plenty. Diogenes understood this very well when he put himself in a condition where he could not lose anything. The most convenient course of life is the one that is both safe and healthy. The body should be indulged no further than health requires. It is better to mortify it than to leave it out of subjection to the mind. We must provide against hunger, thirst, and cold, and have some covering to shelter us from other hardships. But it does not matter a pin whether that shelter is made of turf or of marble. A man may lie as warm and as dry under a thatched roof as under a gilded one. Let the mind be great and glorious, and all other things are contemptible by comparison. “The future is uncertain, and I would rather beg myself not to desire anything than beg Fortune to give it.”