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You sleep, gaping,
On your bags of gold, adore them like hallowed
Relics not meant to be touched, stare as at gorgeous
Canvases. Money is meant to be spent, it buys pleasure:
Did you know that? Bread, vegetables, wine, you can
Buy almost everything it’s hard to live without.
[Congestis undique saccis
indormis inhians et tamquam parcere sacris
cogeris aut pictis tamquam gaudere tabellis.
Nescis, quo valeat nummus, quem praebeat usum?
Panis ematur, holus, vini sextarius, adde
quis humana sibi doleat natura negatis.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet, satirist, soldier, politician [Quintus Horatius Flaccus] Satires [Saturae, Sermones], Book 1, # 1, “Qui fit, Mæcenas,” l. 70ff (1.1.70-75) (35 BC) [tr. Raffel (1983)]
(Source)
Thy house, the hell, thy good, the flood, which, thoughe it doe not starte, Nor stirre from thee, yet hath it so in houlde thy servyle hearte,
That though in foysonne full thou swimmes, and rattles in thy bagges, Yet tost thou arte with dreadefulle dreames, thy mynde it waves and wagges,
And wisheth after greater things, and that, thats woorste of all, Thou sparst it as an hollye thynge, and doste thy selfe in thralle
Unto thy lowte, and cockescome lyke thou doste but fille thine eye With that, which shoulde thy porte preserve, and hoyste thyne honor hye.
Thou scannes it, and thou toots upponte, as thoughe it were a warke By practysde painters hande portrayde with shaddowes suttle darke.
Is this the perfytte ende of coyne? be these the veray vayles That money hath, to serve thy syghte? fye, fye thy wysedome fayles.
Tharte misse insenste, thou canst not use't, thou wotes not what to do Withall, by cates, bye breade, bye drincke, in fyne disburse it so,
That nature neede not move her selfe, nor with a betments scant Distrainte, and prickd passe forth her daye in pyne and pinchinge want.
[tr. Drant (1567)]
Thee,
Who on thy full cramb'd Bags together laid, Do'st lay thy sleepless and affrighted head;
And do'st no more the moderate use on't dare To make, then if it consicrated were:
Thou mak'st no other use of all thy gold, Then men do of their pictures, to behold.
Do'st thou not know the use and power of coyn? It buys bread, meat, and cloaths, (and what's more wine;)
With all those necessary things beside, Without which Nature cannot be suppli'd.
[tr. A. B.; ed. Brome (1666)]
Thou watchest o'er thy heaps, yet 'midst thy store Thou'rt almost starv'd for Want, and still art poor:
You fear to touch as if You rob'd a Saint, And use no more than if 'twere Gold in paint:
You only know how Wealth may be abus'd, Not what 'tis good for, how it can be us'd;
'Twill buy Thee Bread, 'twill buy Thee Herbs, and What ever Nature's Luxury can grant.
[tr. Creech (1684)]
Of thee the tale is told, With open mouth when dozing o'er your gold.
On every side the numerous bags are pil'd, Whose hallow'd stores must never be defil'd
To human use ; while you transported gaze, As if, like pictures, they were form'd to please.
Would you the real use of riches know? Bread, herbs, and wine are all they can bestow:
Or add, what nature's deepest wants supplies; This, and no more, thy mass of money buys.
[tr. Francis (1747)]
O'er countless heaps in nicest order stored You pore agape, and gaze upon the hoard,
As relicks to be laid with reverence by, Or pictures only meant to please the eye.
With all your cash, you seem not yet to know Its proper use, or what it can bestow!
"'Twill buy me herbs, a loaf, a pint of wine, -- All, which denied her, nature would repine."
[tr. Howes (1845)]
You sleep upon your bags, heaped up on every side, gaping over them, and are obliged to abstain from them, as if they were consecrated things, or to amuse yourself with them as you would with pictures. Are you ignorant of what value money has, what use it can afford? Bread, herbs, a bottle of wine may be purchased; to which [necessaries], add [such others], as, being withheld, human nature would be uneasy with itself.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]
You sleepless gloat o'er bags of money gained from every source, and yet you're forced to touch them not as though tabooed, or else you feel but such delight in them as painting gives the sense. Pray don't you know the good of money to you, or the use it is? You may buy bread and herbs, your pint of wine, and more, all else, which if our nature lacked, it would feel pain.
[tr. Millington (1870)]
Of you the tale is told: You sleep, mouth open, on your hoarded gold;
Gold that you treat as sacred, dare not use, In fact, that charms you as a picture does.
Come, will you hear what wealth can fairly do? 'Twill buy you bread, and vegetables too,
And wine, a good pint measure: add to this Such needful things as flesh and blood would miss.
[tr. Conington (1874)]
You sleep with open mouth on money-bags piled up from all sides, and must perforce keep hands off as if they were hallowed, or take delight in them as if painted pictures. Don't you know what money is for, what end it serves? You may buy bread, greens, a measure of wine, and such other things as would mean pain to our human nature, if withheld.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]
You sleep on the sacks
Of money you've scraped up and raked in from everywhere
And, gazing with greed, are still forced to keep your hands off,
As if they were sacred or simply pictures to look at.
Don't you know what money can do, or just why we want it?
It's to buy bread and greens and a pint of wine
And the things that we, being human, can't do without.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]
You have money bags amassed from everywhere,
just to sleep and gasp upon. To you they're sacred,
or they're works of art, to be enjoyed only with the eyes.
Don't you know the value of money, what it's used for?
It buys bread, vegetables, a pint of wine and whatever else
a human being needs to survive and not to suffer.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]
You sleep with open mouth
on sacks accumulated from everywhere
and are constrained to worship them as sacred things,
or rejoice in them as if they were painted tablets.
Do you not know what money serves for?
How it's to be used? to buy bread, vegetables,
a sixth of wine, other things deprived of which
human nature suffers.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]
You sleep open-mouthed on a mound of money
bags but won't touch them; you just stare at them
as if they were a collection of paintings.
What's money for? What can it do? Why not
buy bread, vegetables, what you think's wine enough?
Don't you want what it harms us not to have?
[tr. Matthews (2002)]
You scrape your money-bags together and fall asleep
on top of them with your mouth agape. They must remain unused
like sacred objects, giving no more pleasure than if painted on canvas.
Do you not realize what money is for, what enjoyment it gives?
You can buy bread and vegetables, half a litre of wine,
and the other things which human life can't do without.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]
... covetously sleeping on money-bags
Piled around, forced to protect them like sacred objects,
And take pleasure in them as if they were only paintings.
Don’t you know the value of money, what end it serves?
Buy bread with it, cabbages, a pint of wine: all the rest,
Things where denying them us harms our essential nature.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881) Scottish essayist and historian The French Revolution: A History, Part 1, Book 3, ch. 7 (1.3.7) (1837)
(Source)
On Jean-Jacques Duval d'Eprémesnil's use of bribery to obtain, in May 1788, an advance copy of a royal edict depriving the Parlement of Paris of its functions.
To what extremes, O cursèd lust for gold
will you not drive man’s appetite?
[Per che non reggi tu, o sacra fame
de l’oro, l’appetito de’ mortali?]
Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 2 “Purgatorio,” Canto 22, l. 40ff (22.40-41) [Statius] (1314) [tr. Musa (1981)]
(Source)
Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
Auri sacra fames?
Unlike the phrase in that pagan book, which is purely about the corrupting power of greed and gold-lust, Dante's Italian and some translators make reference to a "holy hunger," a virtue/rule of proper attitude toward money and spending, criticized here for it not restraining humans from the sins of being either spendthrifts or misers -- a nod to Aristotle making sin about extremes and virtue about moderation. See Ciardi, Durling, Kirkpatrick, Princeton, and Sayers for more discussion.
(Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Why, thou cursed thirst
Of gold! dost not with juster measure guide
The appetite of mortals?
[tr. Cary (1814)]
Why should'st thou not restrain accursèd thirst
Of gold, the appetite of mortals lost?
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
To what impellest thou not, O cursed hunger
Of gold, the appetite of mortal men?
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
Why restrainest thou not, O holy hunger of gold, the desire of mortals?
[tr. Butler (1885)]
To what lengths, O thou cursed thirst of gold,
Dost thou not rule the mortal appetite?
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
O cursed hunger of gold, to what dost thou not impel the appetite of mortals?
[tr. Norton (1892)]
Wherefore dost thou not regulate the lust of mortals, O hallowed hunger of gold?
[tr. Okey (1901)]
To what, O cursed hunger for gold, dost thou not drive the appetite of mortals?
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
O hallowed hunger of gold, why dost thou not
The appetite of mortal men control?
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
With what constraint constran'st thou not the lust
Of mortals, thou devoted greed of gold!
[tr. Sayers (1955)]
To what do you not drive man's appetite,
O cursèd gold-lust!
[tr. Ciardi (1961)]
Why do you not control the appetite
Of mortals, O you accurst hunger for gold?
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
Why cannot you, o holy hunger
for gold, restrain the appetite of mortals?
[tr. Mandelbaum (1982)]
O sacred hunger for gold, why do you not rule human appetite?
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Why do you, O holy hunger for gold, not
govern the appetite of mortals?
[tr. Durling (2003)]
You, awestruck hungering for gold! Why not
impose a rule on mortal appetite?
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2007)]
To what end, O cursèd hunger for gold,
do you not govern the appetite of mortals?
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
Accursed craving for money, what is there, in
This world, you don't lead human beings to?
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
What Nature wants, commodious Gold bestows, ‘Tis thus we eat the bread another sows:
But how unequal it bestows, observe, ‘Tis thus we riot, while who sow it, starve.
What Nature wants (a phrase I much distrust) Extends to Luxury, extends to Lust;
And if we count among the Needs of life Another’s Toil, why not another’s Wife?
Useful, we grant, it serves what life requires, But dreadful too, the dark Assassin hires:
Trade it may help, Society extend; But lures the Pyrate, and corrupts the Friend:
It raises Armies in a nation’s aid, But bribes a Senate, and the Land’s betray’d.
Alexander Pope (1688-1744) English poet
“An Epistle to Allen, Lord Bathurst: Of the Use of Riches” (1733), Moral Essays, Epistle 3 (1735)
(Source)
Dore – Inferno, Canto 7 – hoarders and wasters (1890)
You now can see, dear son, the short-lived pranks that goods consigned to Fortune’s hand will play, causing such squabbles in the human ranks.
For all the gold that lies beneath the moon — or all that ever did lie there — would bring no respite to these worn-out souls, not one.
[Or puoi, figliuol, veder la corta buffa
d’i ben che son commessi a la fortuna,
per che l’umana gente si rabuffa;
ché tutto l’oro ch’è sotto la luna
e che già fu, di quest’anime stanche
non poterebbe farne posare una.]
Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) Italian poet The Divine Comedy [Divina Commedia], Book 1 “Inferno,” Canto 7, l. 61ff (7.61-66) [Virgil] (1309) [tr. Kirkpatrick (2006)]
(Source)
On the never-ending labor and contention between the hoarders and the wasters. (Source (Italian)). Alternate translations:
Therefore, my Son, the vanity you may Of Fortune's gifts perceive, for which Mankind Raise such a bustle, and so much contend.
Not all the Gold which is beneath the moon, Or which was by these wretched Souls possess'd, Could ever satisfy their craving minds.
[tr. Rogers (1782), l. 53ff]
Learn hence of mortal things how vain the boast, Learn to despise the low, degen'rate host, And see their wealth how poor, how mean their pride;
Not all the mines below the wand'ring moon, Not all the sun beholds at highest noon, Can for a moment bid the fray subside.
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 11]
Now may’st thou see, my son! how brief, how vain, The goods committed into fortune’s hands, For which the human race keep such a coil!
Not all the gold, that is beneath the moon, Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn souls Might purchase rest for one.
[tr. Cary (1814)]
Now may'st thou, son, behold how brief the shuffle Of goods by shifting Fortune held in store, For which the human kind so fiercely ruffle:
Since all below the moon of golden ore That lies, or all those weary souls possessed, Could purchase none a moment's peace the more.
[tr. Dayman (1843)]
But thou, my Son, mayest [now] see the brief mockery of the goods that are committed unto Fortune, for which the human kind contend with each other. For all the gold that is beneath the moon, or ever was, could not give rest to a single one of these weary souls.
[tr. Carlyle (1849)]
Now see, my son, how frivolous and vain The goods committed unto Fortune's hand, For which the race will so rebutting stand.
Not all the gold that is beneath the moon, Nor all these toil-worn creatures have possessed, could purchase for them but a moment's rest.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]
And now, my son, behold the folly brief of the world's goods to fortune's guidance given, And for which men so struggle and dispute.
Not all the gold that is beneath the moon, Or ever was, unto these wearied souls Could give one hour of respite or of peace.
[tr. Johnston (1867)]
Now canst thou. Son, behold the transient farce Of goods that are committed unto Fortune, For which the human race each other buffet;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon, Or ever has been, of these weary souls Could never make a single one repose.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]
Now canst thou, my son, see the short game of the goods which are entrusted to Fortune, for which the human race buffet each other. For all the gold that is beneath the moon and that ever was, of these wearied souls could never make one of them rest.
[tr. Butler (1885)]
Now thou canst see, O son, the short-lived day Of good, committed unto Fortune's 'hest, For which the human race so strives alway.
Since all the gold beneath the moon possest, Or ever owned by those worn souls of yore, Could not make one of them one moment rest.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]
Now canst thou, son, see the brief jest of the goods that are committed unto Fortune, for which the human race so scramble; for all the gold that is beneath the moon, or that ever was, of these weary souls could not make a single one repose.
[tr. Norton (1892)]
Here mayest thou see, my son, the fleeting mockery of wealth that is the sport of Fortune, for sake of which men strive with one another. For all the gold that is, or ever hath been beneath the moon, could not procure repose for one of these weary souls.
[tr. Sullivan (1893)]
Now canst thou see, my son, how vain and short-lived Are the good things committed unto fortune, For which sake human folk set on each other.
For all the gold on which the moon now rises, Or ever rose, would be quite unavailing To set one of these weary souls at quiet.
[tr. Griffith (1908)]
Now mayst thou see, my son, the brief mockery of wealth committed to fortune, for which the race of men embroil themselves; for all the gold that is beneath the moon, or ever was, could not give rest to one of these weary souls.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]
Now, my son, see to what a mock are brought The goods of Fortune's keeping, and how soon! Though to possess them still is all man's thought.
For all the gold that is beneath the moon, Or ever was, never could buy repose For one of those souls, faint to have that boon.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]
See now, my son, the fine and fleeting mock Of all those goods men wrangle for -- the boon That is delivered into the hand of Luck;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon, Or ever was, could not avail to buy Repose for one of these weary souls -- not one.
[tr. Sayers (1949)]
Now may you see the fleeting vanity of the goods of Fortune for which men tear down all that they are, to build a mockery.
Not all the gold that is or ever was under the sky could buy for one of these exhausted souls the fraction of a pause.
[tr. Ciardi (1954)]
Now you can see, my son, the brief mockery of the goods that are committed to Fortune, for which humankind contend with one another; because all the gold that is beneath the moon, or ever was, would not give rest to a single one of these weary souls.
[tr. Singleton (1970)]
You see, my son, the short-lived mockery of all the wealth that is in Fortune's keep, over which the human race is bickering;
for all the gold that is or ever was beneath the moon won't buy a moment's rest for even one among these weary souls.
[tr. Musa (1971)]
Now you can see, my son, how brief's the sport of all those goods that are in Fortune's care, for which the tribe of men contend and brawl;
for all the gold that is or ever was beneath the moon could never offer rest to even one of these exhausted spirits.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1980)]
Now you can see, my son, how short a life Have the gifts which are distributed by Fortune, And for which people get rough with one another:
So that all the gold there is beneath the moon And all there ever was, could never give A moment's rest to one of these tired souls.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]
Now you can see, my son, how ludicrous And brief are all the goods in Fortune's ken, Which humankind contend for: you see from this
How all the gold there is beneath the moon, Or that there ever was, could not relieve One of these weary souls.
[tr. Pinsky (1994), l. 55ff]
Now you can see, my son, the brief mockery of the goods that are committed to Fortune, for which the human race so squabbles;
for all the gold that is under the moon and that ever was, could not give rest to even one of these weary souls.
[tr. Durling (1996)]
But you, my son, can see now the vain mockery of the wealth controlled by Fortune, for which the human race fight with each other, since all the gold under the moon, that ever was, could not give peace to one of these weary souls.
[tr. Kline (2002)]
Now you see, my son, what brief mockery Fortune makes of goods we trust her with, for which the race of men embroil themselves.
All the gold that lies beneath the moon, or ever did, could never give a moment's rest to any of these wearied souls.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]
Now see, my son, the futile mockery Of spending a life accumulating possessions, Competing with fortune and men for worthless frippery:
Take all the gold still lying under the moon, Add all that ever was and you could not buy A moment of rest for one of these souls -- not one.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]
You see it clear,
My son: the squalid fraud as brief as life
Of goods consigned to Fortune, whereupon
Cool heads come to the boil, hands to the knife.
For all the gold there is, and all that's gone,
Would give no shred of peace to even one
Of these drained souls.
[tr. James (2013), l. 56ff]
Fell lust of gold! abhorred, accurst!
What will not men to slake such thirst?
[Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
Auri sacra fames?]
Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil] The Aeneid [Ænē̆is], Book 3, l. 56ff (3.56-57) [Aeneas] (29-19 BC) [tr. Conington (1866)]
(Source)
Frodo drew the Ring out of his pocket again and looked at it. It now appeared plain and smooth, without mark or device that he could see. The gold looked very fair and pure, and Frodo thought how rich and beautiful was its colour, how perfect was its roundness. It was an admirable thing and altogether precious.
J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973) English writer, fabulist, philologist, academic [John Ronald Reuel Tolkien] The Lord of the Rings, Vol. 1: The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, ch. 2 “The Shadow of the Past” (1954)
(Source)
There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.
J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973) English writer, fabulist, philologist, academic [John Ronald Reuel Tolkien] The Hobbit, ch. 18 “The Return Journey” [Thorin] (1937)
(Source)
It is not enough to tell me you worked hard to get your gold. So does the Devil work hard.
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) American philosopher and writer
Essay (1863-10), “Life without Principle,” Atlantic Monthly, No. 72
(Source)
Writing of the California Gold Rush.
Based his lecture (1854-12-06) "What Shall It Profit?" Railroad Hall, Providence, Rhode Island. He had edited it for publication before his death, and it was published posthumously.
SHEPHERD’S SON: He seems to be of
great authority. Close with him, give him gold; and
though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft
led by the nose with gold.
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet Winter’s Tale, Act 4, sc. 4, l. 932ff (4.4.932-935) (1611)
(Source)
Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616) Spanish novelist Don Quixote, Part 1, Book 2, ch. 11 (1605) [tr. Motteux & Ozell (1743)]
(Source)
Alt trans.:
"Oh happy age, which our first parents called the age of gold! not because gold, so much adored in this iron-age, was then easily purchased, but because those two fatal words, mine and thine, were distinctions unknown to the people of those fortunate times." [Full version of the above]
"Happy the age, happy the time, to which the ancients gave the name of golden, not because in that fortunate age the gold so coveted in this our iron one was gained without toil, but because they that lived in it knew not the two words 'mine' and 'thine'!" [tr. Ormsby (1885)]
"Happy age, and happy days were those, to which the ancients gave the name of golden; not, that gold, which in these our iron-times, is so much esteemed, was to be acquired without trouble, in that fortunate period; but, because people then, were ignorant of those two words MINE and THINE." [tr. Smollett (1976), as Part 1, Book 1, ch. 3]
