PERSONAL POSSESSIONS.
THE love of possessing is so obviously one of the strongest characteristics of human nature, and offers so wide a field for thought, that perhaps it would be worth while to con- sider it in some of its aspects. If we want to be satisfied that it is an inborn instinct, part of the raw material of humanity, that index of human nature—a child—will supply us with sufficient proof ; for " May I have it for my very own ? " is one of the most frequent and eager questions that rise to his lips. " I wish I had a paint-box of my own," we heard a little boy say the other day. " You may have mine whenever you like, so it is the same thing," replied his sister. " No, it is not the same thing," he answered, sure that his assertion was true, though he could not have explained why. It is true that the de- sire to possess is much stronger in some natures than in others, amounting almost to a passion in certain cases, and like all pas- sions, being largely mixed with pain. To walk through a shop full of beautiful things which they long to possess but cannot buy, is a real trial to some people. They almost groan aloud at the sight of them. The appetite to have and to hold is as insatiable as that of poor Oliver "asking for more." Bat indeed,
p tr hungry ()Hy, r would be nowhere in conipar:son, and a e rmorau t or a boa constrictor would be more evenly-matched rivals. And a healthy cormorant and boa-constrictor would have better excuse for their voracity, for their digestions are all-powerful, whereas these greedy possessors swallow up more than they can ever digest or assimilate. Their drawers and their shelves overflow, not merely with treasures, but with odds-and-ends of rubbish, like the contents of a schoolboy's pocket, which they cannot quite bring themselves to part with. They may "come in" some day, is their excuse for keeping them, though many of them had better go out at once to their ultimate proprietor, the dust-contractor. Alas ! for the unfor- tunate relations and survivors of these acquisitive folk, who will some day have to look through and dispose of the encum- brances. The task will not endear the memory of the departed.
If we try to analyse the love of possession, we shall find that it is dependent for its strength and its quality on the characteristics both of the possessor and of the thing pos- sessed. These form links between the two ; and the more there are of them, and the higher they are in their nature, the stronger is the sense of personal relation on the part of the owner towards his possession, and the greater his attach- ment to it. If it were possible to consider these charac- teristics in all their varieties and combinations, the subject would be an endless one. We can but mention some of them, taking a general view on each side. We will begin with the character of the possessor. There are certain traits in men and women, some blameworthy, others worthy of respect and sympathy, which largely increase the pleasures of owner- ship. Those who have a large share of egotism in their nature, feel particular attachment to their goods, which they somehow dentify with the ego of their devotion. The mere fact that they are theirs, sheds a halo over them. Those of conservative dis- position—to use the word in a non-political connection—are attached to their possessions because they are accustomed to them, and would dislike the change which a loss of them would occasion. People of tenacious affections, combined with the temperament that clings to outward and visible associations with the past, love them because of those associations. They are more or less sacred relics to them, helps to the memory and imagination, a little bit of the past in concrete form. But now let us turn from the possessors to the possessions. These are valuable to us, both from their inherent qualities, and from those associations which, originally springing up in our own minds, cluster round them so closely that to us they gradually become part of the things themselves. We will glance rapidly at some of the inherent qualities. To begin with, if not the lowest, perhaps the most mundane, the market-value of an article. This naturally gives a possession a certain worth in the eyes of its owner, both in itself and as representing the pos- sibility of many sources of pleasure, if he chose to realise it in pounds, shillings, and pence. Such a feeling would probably be a real though latent element in a lady's satisfaction in her diamond necklace. In some people it is more than latent ; it is so active and exuberant that it bubbles up and effervesces and overflows, and they cannot be quite happy, as they show you their horses and their chariots, their pictures and their cabinets, till they have told you how much they gave for them. Utility is another cause of appreciation, especially when combined with a long spell of service, and we feel a real affection to the old pocket-knife or re-covered umbrella that have been the useful companions of past years. Beauty is in some ways a higher link of attachment ; and though we may become too accus- tomed to the sight of many of our pretty possessions for them to be a conscious joy to us for ever, yet they insensibly brighten life. The sum-total of pleasure received from breakfasts pre- sented to us in pretty china, would mount much higher than if they bad been served np in ugly earthenware. The other pleasures we referred to, those of association, lift many of our possessions into a higher rank ; if, for instance, they were earned by our own exertions, or were used by our ances- tors before us, or if they are bound up with our earliest recollections, or if they were given us by a valued friend, or if they came from some place of historic interest,—they are the more precious to us. But there is another quality in property which raises it still higher, bringing a wider and purer joy than any we have considered ; this quality we will call fruit- fulness. A large proportion of our possessions may be said to begin and end with themselves. Allowing liberally for the qualities and the associations which we have spoken of, a chair
is but a chair, and a table a table, after all. And our eyes• become so accustomed to the sight of many of our possessions, that we are hardly aware of them. We see, without seeing them. This is, at any rate, true of the very rich, who possess more than they can ever make use of. A large proportion of those properties which are displayed before their eyes, they hardly notice; and they would only be reminded of them by their absence. Those which are out of sight are out of mind, and make as little difference to their happiness as a store of plate kept for security at the banker's. If half of them were to be destroyed by fire, though the news would cause regret at the time, the pleasure of their lives would be little affected.. Against this view may be quoted the ease of the rich young man in the Gospel, to whom the thought of parting with his possessions was so painful. But, paradoxical as it may sound, we believe that in his case, as in many others, the pleasure of possession was far less than the pang of surrender. Certainly Solomon, like his modern prototypes, found to his own bitter disappointment how little a man's life, in any true sense, con- sisted in the abundance of the things which he possessed. So let us advance a stage further, and consider the kind of possessions which are fruitful, in the sense of going beyond themselves, giving us the entry into new regions of thought, beauty, and wonder. They may possess the characteristics already mentioned,—money-value, utility, beauty ; they may be so invested with interesting associations that to us these become a part of them ; but over and above all this, they enter into higher relations with us still, linking themselves to• us through some of the noblest faculties of our being. As an example of this class, let us take a beautiful picture. It is not merely that the object represented is beautiful in itself, which may be the case in a lower degree with a graceful vase, or well-designed coffee-pot; but the picture has power to lift the owner into an atmosphere of beauty beyond itself, and as- long as it lasts, it will have this expansive capacity. And we will go further, and say that a man who merely owns a picture- without the power of receiving all that it conveys, regarding it merely as representing so much money-value, is even less its true possessor than the man who has no rights over it, and yet enters into all that it suggests. Books are another instance ;. not the often unread store of the mere book-collector, but those which are the companions of their owners, carrying them into fresh worlds of interest and delight. A musical instru- ment, such as a Straduarius violin, yields a similar service to• the owner who is so happy as to understand its language. Of this kind, too, are the instruments of the scientific,—the micro scope of the botanist or entomologist, the telescope of the astronomer. They are not merely admirable in themselves,. beautiful in construction, delicate and elaborate in workman- ship, but they open to their owners fresh worlds of beauty and wonder.
Can we go further ? Is there a higher order of possessions- still P We hold that there is. But because they are of an abstract and immaterial character, we shall probably be accused of being unpractical, transcendental, sentimental- Yet as we think there is reason to consider them, notwith- standing, actual and real possessions, we hope to be able to refute the charge. Of what does this class consist? It con- sists of a varied list of experiences—thoughts, words, scenes,. incidents, pleasures—which, having been ours at a particular moment of life, are really ours for ever. Being lodged in the memory they are the possessions of the memory, to be crawm out and enjoyed at will, as we might draw out the contents of our pockets. We cannot put our hand on them, as on the picture, the book, or the microscope ; but they are none the less real. Let us think of a few examples. We saw a view once, under such rare and beautiful conditions of light, shade and atmosphere, that it impressed itself on the memory as a. permanent picture, as clear and definite to our minds as the- picture on the wall opposite. Others may have seen it and realised it also ; but each spectator will have his own distinct mental image. Lord Houghton—no mere sentimental dreamer, but a practical man of the world—strongly maintains this view. Let the beauty, he says,— "Become a portion of your being ;
Close your glad gaze but see it none the less, Not clearer with your eye than spirit seeing ; So in far sorrows it shall ease your pain, In distant struggles it shall calm your strife."
Of a similar class, though different character, are those thought, which form part of the pleasant storage of our minds. Some of them seem the more completely our peculiar possession, because they are in no one's mind but our own, a nice little secret that we have shared with none. Or perhaps the amusing incident happened to ourselves, or we alone witnessed it, so that we feel we have the copyright of it. Let us take another example,—some kindness that we have received, some kindness that we have conferred. They are safe in our minds ; as actual, definite and positive there, as the hat or the coat on the stand in our hall. But we are under- stating the case. They are more inalienably ours than 'those useful articles, which wear out, and are liable to be lost or stolen at any moment. But these are our permanent possessions as long as memory remains unclouded ; and in that case they would only be temporarily concealed and not abstracted. Oliver Wendell Holmes has an interesting passage in his "Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," bearing on this subject. He is insisting that it is by particular individual experiences—the property of the mind—that we know ourselves. " I alone, as I think, of all mankind, remember one particular pailful of water, flavoured with the white pine of which the pail was made, and a certain brown mug," of which he tells a story. "Thirst belongs to humanity every- where, in all ages, but that white-pine pail and that brown mug belong to me in particular, and just so of my special relationships with other things and with my race." Dr. lohnes's instances of such mental possessions may be simple a.nd homely, but they are as real as others of a more exalted kind. They differ in quality, and there are many of a baleful sort which we should be better without ; but we should not -reckon such among our treasures. We have given a few -examples ; the thoughtful mind will supply others, such as the -faculties of the mind, which are of more value than the con- tents, because, like the scientific instruments of the natural philosopher, they are fruitful in their character, enabling us to enter into new fields of thought and interest. And this last great class of possessions, though abstract in nature, prove their reality by their positive influence, not only on our 'thoughts, but on our words and actions. And those who refuse to give them their value are the really unpractical people.
The close of the beautiful sonnet from which we have quoted is an indication of the poet's opinion, that possessions of this kind are not among the things of which we shall carry clothing away with us when we die :— " And in your further and serener life, Who says that it shall be remembered not ?"
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