However it be, the extremes of this passion are certainly more frequent than of any other, and often to a degree so absurd and ridiculous, that if it were not for their frequency, they could hardly obtain belief. The stage, which carries other follies and vices beyond nature and probability, falls very short in the representations of avarice; nor are there any extravagances in this kind described by ancient or modern comedies, which are not outdone by an hundred instances, commonly told, among ourselves.
I am ready to conclude from hence, that a vice which keeps so firm a hold upon human nature, and governs it with so unlimited a tyranny, since it cannot be wholly eradicated, ought at least to be confined to particular objects, to thrift and penury, to private fraud and extortion, and never suffered to prey upon the public; and should certainly be rejected as the most unqualifying circumstance for any employment, where bribery and corruption can possibly enter.
If the mischiefs of this vice, in a public station, were confined to enriching only those particular persons employed, the evil would be more supportable; but it is usually quite otherwise. When a steward defrauds his lord, he must connive at the rest of the servants, while they are following the same practice in their several spheres; so that in some families you may observe a subordination of knaves in a link downwards to the very helper in the stables, all cheating by concert, and with impunity: And even if this were all, perhaps the master could bear it without being undone; but it so happens, that for every shilling the servant gets by his iniquity, the master loses twenty; the perquisites of servants being but small compositions for suffering shopkeepers to bring in what bills they please.[3] It is exactly the same thing in a state: an avaricious man in office is in confederacy with the whole clan of his district or dependence, which in modern terms of art is called, "To live, and let live;" and yet their gains are the smallest part of the public's loss. Give a guinea to a knavish land-waiter, and he shall connive at the merchant for cheating the Queen of an hundred. A brewer gives a bribe to have the privilege of selling drink to the Navy; but the fraud is ten times greater than the bribe, and the public is at the whole loss.[4]
Moralists make two kinds of avarice; that of Catiline, alieni appetens, sui profusus;[5] and the other more generally understood by that name; which is, the endless desire of hoarding: But I take the former to be more dangerous in a state, because it mingles well with ambition, which I think the latter cannot; for though the same breast may be capable of admitting both, it is not able to cultivate them; and where the love of heaping wealth prevails, there is not in my opinion, much to be apprehended from ambition. The disgrace of that sordid vice is sooner apt to spread than any other, and is always attended with the hatred and scorn of the people: so that whenever those two passions happen to meet in the same subject, it is not unlikely that Providence hath placed avarice to be a check upon ambition; and I have reason to think, some great ministers of state have been of my opinion.
The divine authority of Holy Writ, the precepts of philosophers, the lashes and ridicule of satirical poets, have been all employed in exploding this insatiable thirst of money, and all equally controlled by the daily practice of mankind. Nothing new remains to be said upon the occasion, and if there did, I must remember my character, that I am an Examiner only, and not a Reformer.
However, in those cases where the frailties of particular men do nearly affect the public welfare, such as a prime minister of state, or a great general of an army; methinks there should be some expedient contrived, to let them know impartially what is the world's opinion in the point: Encompassed with a crowd of depending flatterers, they are many degrees blinder to their own faults than the common infirmities of human nature can plead in their excuse; Advice dares not be offered, or is wholly lost, or returned with hatred: and whatever appears in public against their prevailing vice, goes for nothing; being either not applied, or passing only for libel and slander, proceeding from the malice and envy of a party.
I have sometimes thought, that if I had lived at Rome in the time of the first Triumvirate, I should have been tempted to write a letter, as from an unknown hand, to those three great men, who had then usurped the sovereign power; wherein I would freely and sincerely tell each of them that fault which I conceived was most odious, and of most consequence to the commonwealth: That, to Crassus, should have been sent to him after his conquests in Mesopotamia, and in the following terms.[6]
"To Marcus Crassus, health.
"If you apply as you ought, what I now write,[7] you will be more obliged to me than to all the world, hardly excepting your parents or your country. I intend to tell you, without disguise or prejudice, the opinion which the world has entertained of you: and to let you see I write this without any sort of ill will, you shall first hear the sentiments they have to your advantage. No man disputes the gracefulness of your person; you are allowed to have a good and clear understanding, cultivated by the knowledge of men and manners, though not by literature. You are no ill orator in the Senate; you are said to excel in the art of bridling and subduing your anger, and stifling or concealing your resentments. You have been a most successful general, of long experience, great conduct, and much personal courage. You have gained many important victories for the commonwealth, and forced the strongest towns in Mesopotamia to surrender, for which frequent supplications have been decreed by the Senate. Yet with all these qualities, and this merit, give me leave to say, you are neither beloved by the patricians, or plebeians at home, nor by the officers or private soldiers of your own army abroad: And, do you know, Crassus, that this is owing to a fault, of which you may cure yourself, by one minutes reflection? What shall I say? You are the richest person in the commonwealth; you have no male child, your daughters are all married to wealthy patricians; you are far in the decline of life; and yet you are deeply stained with that odious and ignoble vice of covetousness:[8] It is affirmed, that you descend even to the meanest and most scandalous degrees of it; and while you possess so many millions, while you are daily acquiring so many more, you are solicitous how to save a single sesterce, of which a hundred ignominious instances are produced, and in all men's mouths. I will only mention that passage of the buskins,[9] which after abundance of persuasion, you would hardly suffer to be cut from your legs, when they were so wet and cold, that to have kept them on, would have endangered your life.
"Instead of using the common arguments to dissuade you from this weakness, I will endeavour to convince you, that you are really guilty of it, and leave the cure to your own good sense. For perhaps, you are not yet persuaded that this is your crime, you have probably never yet been reproached for it to your face, and what you are now told, comes from one unknown, and it may be, from an enemy. You will allow yourself indeed to be prudent in the management of your fortune; you are not a prodigal, like Clodius[10] or Catiline, but surely that deserves not the name of avarice. I will inform you how to be convinced. Disguise your person; go among the common people in Rome; introduce discourses about yourself; inquire your own character; do the same in your camp, walk about it in the evening, hearken at every tent, and if you do not hear every mouth censuring, lamenting, cursing this vice in you, and even you for this vice, conclude yourself innocent. If you are not yet persuaded, send for Atticus,[11] Servius Sulpicius, Cato or Brutus, they are all your friends; conjure them to tell you ingenuously which is your great fault, and which they would chiefly wish you to correct; if they do not all agree in their verdict, in the name of all the gods, you are acquitted.