Henri Roorda - My Suicide

My dream of an easy life is not an impossible dream. Every year, more virtuous or more able men than I achieve it. They are sensible individuals who, in anticipation of their old age, have stockpiled supplies their entire lives.

A French statesman once gave the young people of his country some brutal advice: Get rich! This remark used to scandalize me, for I received a moral education of superior quality. Eloquent speakers told me, Always defend the cause of the oppressed! I took this to heart, and in my family I was always the champion of our good servant. But perhaps injustice, as has been claimed, is better than disorder, because each time I made my timid interventions they provoked regrettable scenes.

Without misleading me, my educators could have told me:

Humanity is poor; this means that it must work tremendously, never flagging, to make the various riches that the earth can produce usable. Desirable or useful things are in short supply. This is why the farsighted man, through his cunning or through a few happy accidents, keeps the supplies that he needs to persevere locked in cabinets most frequently, in safes. Because he knows he will age. A day will come when he will not want to produce anymore, but will still feel the need to consume. On this day, he will not be able to rest and enjoy life unless he has his stockpile.

Social wealth is limited in quantity; work is tiring; the human being is condemned to age and weaken. That, we cannot change. These three conditions explain the envy of the poor and the precautions that the rich man takes so that his safe is not broken into. They explain the laws that men have made so that there may be an enduring social order.

This is what my educators should have explained to me. But they mainly talked about progress and the society of the future. For many years I was the convinced collaborator of utopians who were preparing the happiness of humanity.

Because the poor are very numerous, they may manage to establish justice in the distribution of supplies. The prospect of a well-organized socialist state, in which individuals will enjoy material security, does not bother me at all. When we are sure of getting the food we need each day, we can think of other things we have a free spirit. In todays world, where liberty reigns, most men are anxious.

But if socialism triumphs, what kind of food could a person count on? Will he have to settle for bread, for milk, for fresh vegetables, and for egalitarian macaroni without cheese? Frugality, abstinence, and virtue will undoubtedly be mandatory, so that there may be enough food for everyone. Opulence for all would demand an awesome collective effort. As for me, I would like a society in which work chores are reduced to a minimum and every day one has many hours to love, to enjoy ones body, and to play with ones intelligence.

My dream is absurd. No matter how you conceive of it, lasting happiness is impossible. It is perhaps not wrong to tell man, You will eat bread by the sweat of your brow. But must man wish for life to continue? Society defends itself against the egotism of the individual because it wants to go on. Why go on? Toward what desirable future are we going? The Creator, who appears to be very intelligent, must say to himself every so often that his work is pointless.

I am rambling. To think, to reflect, is the work of an imperfect intelligence. The Infinite Intelligence does not think it merges with absolute stupidity! God surely says nothing at all.

If you talk to me about the best interests of humanity, I do not understand. But I like saddle of venison and aged Burgundy wine. And I know what may exist of the marvelous in poetry, in music, and in a womans smile.