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He who lives according to nature cannot be poor, and he who goes beyond it can never have enough: “The whole world is not sufficient.” The entire world cannot satisfy him. “The little that the righteous man has is better than the riches of the ungodly,” Psalm 37:19; and “a poor morsel with quiet is better than abundance with strife,” Proverbs 17:7.
Be content, then; enjoy your life. As Chrysostom advises, do not be angry about what you lack, but give God heartfelt thanks for what you have received.
If a little table Offers humble greens And is full of peace, Do not seek grand And sumptuous dinners Filled with strife.
But to reason the matter out, what do you lack? What do you not have in better measure than a rich man—health, sufficient means, children, security, sleep, friends, freedom, food, clothes, and everything else? Or at least you may have them, since the means are so readily available, easy, and well known. For, as he impressed upon himself:
These are the things that make life happier, My dearest Martial: Wealth acquired by inheritance, not toil; No lawsuits, and so on.
I repeat: you have it, or at least may have it if you choose—and something I am sure he lacks, a cheerful heart.
“Passing a village in the territory of Milan,” says Saint Augustine, “I saw a poor beggar who had apparently filled his belly with food, joking and merry. I sighed and said to some friends with me: how much trouble, madness, pain, and grief we endure and heap upon ourselves to gain that carefree happiness which this poor beggar has reached before us, and which we may never attain! What he has now achieved by begging a few small silver coins—temporary happiness and present peace of heart—I cannot obtain with all my anxious twists and turns, my running here and there.”
“Certainly the beggar was very merry, while I was sad; he was at ease, while I was afraid. If anyone asked me now whether I would rather be merry or remain so anxious and sad, I would answer, ‘Merry.’ If he asked again whether I would rather be as I am or as this beggar was, I would certainly choose to be as I am, still tortured by cares and fears—but from perversity, not from truth.”
What Saint Augustine says of himself here, I may truly say to you: you discontented wretch, you greedy miser, you churl, you ambitious, puffed-up toad! Your troubles come from perversity, not want. Bring your desires to rest: you have enough.
At last put an end to acquiring; the more you have, The less you should fear poverty, and begin To end your toil: use what you longed for, now acquired.
Stop scraping together money, buying this manor, this field, that house, for one child and another. You have enough for yourself and them.
What you seek is here; It is at Ulubrae, if an even mind does not fail you.
What you seek so earnestly is at hand, already at home. But—
If only that neighbouring corner could be added, Which now spoils the shape of my little farm!
If only I had that one corner of land, that field over there, that pasture!
If only someone might show me a vein of silver!
If only I could find a pot of money now, to buy property, build a new house, marry off my daughter, find my son a position, and so on! If only I could live a little longer to see everything settled—two or three years—I would pay my debts and balance all my accounts. But those years have come and gone, and you have more business than before. What madness to think you can settle things in old age, when you have more, if you cannot put them in order now, in youth, with only a little!
Pyrrhus intended first to conquer Africa, then Asia, “and then live pleasantly”—then live merrily and take his ease. But when Cineas the orator told him that he could do so already, “that it could be done now,” he rested content, condemning his own folly. “If small things may be compared with great,” you may do the same; so be at peace with your fortune.
You have enough. A man wet in a bath can be no wetter if thrown into the Tiber, or into the ocean itself. If you possessed the whole world, or a solid mass of gold as large as the world, you could not have more than enough. At last enjoy your life and what you have. The mind is everything. Be content: you are rich, not poor, and richer, as Censorinus aptly wrote to Cerellius, “the fewer things you wish for, not the more you possess”—by wanting less, not having more.
I say, then, “Do not add riches; reduce your desires”—Epicurus’s advice. Add no more wealth, but diminish your wants. Chrysostom aptly supports him: “If you want to become rich, despise riches.” True abundance consists in not needing wealth, rather than having it: “Not possessing, but not needing, is true abundance.” There is more glory in despising riches than in possessing them; “and to need nothing belongs to the gods.”
How many people could I list who are deaf, unable to speak, limping, lame, blind, or miserable—poor and afflicted as well? People imprisoned or banished, galley slaves, people condemned to mines, quarries, shackles, dungeons, lifelong bondage. You are richer and happier than all of them; you can give them charity. Compared with them, you are a lord, a minor prince. Be content, then, I say; grumble and mutter no more, for you are poor in your own estimation, not in fact.