THE PLEASURES OF WASTE.
SOME people take a pleasure in waste. It gives them a momentary but distinct sense of happiness to waste something, and the delight of wasting figures largely in youthful dreams of prosperity. "Enough money to throw away!". The phrase expresses literally many men's notion of desirable riches. It is very unreasonable, if one thinks of it, to wish for more money than we desire to use, give, or leave ; but human nature is*unreasonable, and hoarding and wasting both seem instinctive in many natures. Some children show a love of destruction for which it is impossible to account, and others a keenness in adding to any form of collection, though of the least attractive objects, which is equally incom- prehensible. We do not, of course, consider that a man takes pleasure in wasting who deliberately calculates that certain economies, though desirable in themselves;, are not worth the expenditure of time and thought necessary to carry them out. The majority of Englishmen, each in his separate sphere, have come to this conclusion. A man may set a very false value upon his own time, and grudge thought to his expenditure which might better be given to it; but neither of these mistakes proves that he is capable of the strange sense of enjoyment which we are discussing,—a sensation common among the low-minded, and not unknown among very high- minded. people.
We have been told that it is not uncommon for casual paupers in the various workhouses to insist upon having the last crumb of bread allowed by the law, though they cannot eat it. It gives them positive pleasure that the food should be wasted. Perhaps a clever " casual " might reply to this accusation that be is merely guarding the rights of future paupers with larger appetites than his own. It is, however, more than unlikely that such esprit de corps explains the frequency of the offence, for this is not the only instance in which the tramping class display their love of waste. They will beg importunately of cottagers who they know cannot afford to given them money, but who often do not like to refuse food, and then when they have got what perhaps the giver can ill spare they throw it away. Whether it gives them a momentary sense of affluence to feel they have got more than they want, or whether the wasteful act is but an expression of that lawlessness which finds a further and even more repulsive expression in abstinence from the good custom of ablution, it is impossible to say. Wherever ostentation comes in the pleasure derivable from waste is in part explained ; but even then it is not altogether comprehensible. That a man should be proud of his wealth we can all understand, and that lie should seize upon the readiest method of dis- playing it is natural enough; but how can we account for the fact that his dependents like to watch him doing it ? One could readily believe that the sight of waste should produce bitterness in persons of small means whose work in life obliged them to watch it, but it seems incredible that it should produce admiration. It is undeniable, however, that a great many domestic servants think more of their employers because they waste, and people who would not steal a pin take a pleasure in systematic improvidence. Perhaps it is possible in a roundabout manner to connect this feeling with a good quality. Servants identify themselves with their employers in an admirably loyal manner, and are pleased when the glory of the householder glorifies the household, and the sad thing is that their conception of what reflects honour should be so mistaken. Love of power, and admiration for power in the abstract, are inevitable. Money gives power, and vulgar people enjoy and admire it us displayed in waste, just as wicked people do in cruelty. Possibly, also, the bringing up of servants too often leads them to connect economy with poverty, and poverty with squalor. Sometimes in their delight at being rid of the last they thoughtlessly banish the first. Employers not seldom descant upon the difficulty of persuading servants to care for their masters' goods as they would care for their own. But it has to be remembered that in the eyes of a wasteful servant there is something ideal about the ability to waste. He treats his employer's goods as he thinks he would treat his own if he were as rich as he takes that employer to be.
There may be excuses for all the enjoyment of waste which we have been considering, but, take it as a whole, it is a low feeling condemned by the best individuals of every class. Good servants and good workmen intend at least to make the most of everything, and many of them are genuinely scandalised by wanton wastefulness. Not long ago the present writer observed a respectable working woman having tea in a confectioner's shop. Before pouring out her tea she began to stir the pot, which was half full of tea. leaves. "Why, there's enough for six !" she exclaimed in genuine dismay. "How sinful!"
But the really interesting thing about the love of waste is that there are high-minded people who cannot deny that they understand it,—that they can conceive the pleasure, because they have felt it. As a rule, however, the agreeable sensation of which they are conscious only follows upon. the wasting of money. To put a loaf of bread upon the fire would give them the keenest pain, but they are tempted to throw away the price of many loaves. The other day the present writer heard a man of the highest character, incapable of contracting debts, who has worked hard all his life, has known the want of money, and has never been extraordinarily rich, admit that, having dropped a sovereign, be had felt the temptation to gratify an instinct by not picking it up. This, no doubt, is an extreme instance; but in a lesser degree we do not think that the feeling is un- common. About smaller coins have not many of us felt it ? Is there not more than one person among our readers who, having dropped some pence in a railway train, Las groped after them solely for fear he should appear ostentatious, or should pain some poor person, or set a bad example to some boy, and who, had he been alone, would have experienced a slight sense of pleasure in leaving them where they were ? Or, to take a still smaller instance, have not many of us walked through a town after being for some while in the country, and been suddenly astonished, and rather ashamed, to find ourselves gazing into shop-windows, our whole minds set upon buying something,—not longing for the beautiful things we could not afford, not seeking any definite article whatever, but simply desiring to exchange the loose money in our pockets for something—anything--else ; in fact, actually bent upon experiencing the pleasure of waste ? The most determined self-ridicule is impotent to prevent the constant recurrence of this curious instinct in those in whom it is inherent. What is the origin of this feeling ? Is the mind of the man who is thus tempted to waste throwing back to some spendthrift great-grandfather ? Possibly; but we think the source of the feeling is further to seek. There is something of the savage in us all. In the men and women who feel strongly this temptation to waste money the connexion between coin and commodities is not very close. With their brains they know the worth of money, in abstract questions of finance they often show astonishingly good sense, and in large Bums they may even be somewhat close ; but in some subconscious region of their minds they are not yet convinced of the representative character of dirty bits of metal. They please that simpler self when they refuse to take the slightest trouble to recover a missing shilling, and they feel a secret gratification, rising to the level of a conscious sensation of pleasure, when they exchange a bit of dull silver or copper for any less upattractive object.
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