Fiscal Incontinence 

by Aidan Aboud

There is a reason for the millennia of warnings against incontinence, a ubiquitous concept meditated upon by everyone from the lowest worker to the highest king and the wisest scholar. Excesses are dangerous, driven by an unregulated human passion that cannot but lead to ruin. Those that waste spend their lives at gambling tables, tossing their wealth to Lady Fortune in an attempt to (egregiously) tip the scales in their favor. Those who follow the wealth are consumed by their greed, empty of all purpose and spiritual meaning, placing (if one is religious) their pantheon of coinage and the faces of green over God — falling to the worship of the bill when one should be cultivating the spirit, learning, growing, loving. What follows is a terrible sense of helplessness as one grasps at straws as one’s soul sinks ever further into the pit — and one questions why they find themselves unhappy, devoid of purpose, ignorant, and pained by an elusive panic that drowns one’s mind even as one’s soul does the same. Though, in the end, salvation was still attainable, Tolstoy develops a miserly man’s (Vasili’s) road to reformation in order to highlight the all consuming nature of fiscal obsession.

Vasili, throughout the entirety of “Master and Man,” speaks and thinks almost exclusively about possible fiscal gain — even his attempts at small talk revolve around the comparison of his financial prowess and wealth to that of others. From the buyers he is initially competing with near the beginning of the story, to his basic conversations and stereotyping of Nikita, Vasili never turns from his money. But Vasili reminds us that he isn’t one “to keep you [Nikita] waiting, and making up accounts or reckoning fines,” and insists that he “isn’t a man to wrong anyone…. Honestly” (Tolstoy). Vasili’s insistence on these fiscally adjacent topics, though manifesting themselves as meaningless statements, reveal his obsession — his concern for wealth is so deeply rooted in his psyche that it has become the only thing he can talk about in any capacity — the one activity that “absorb[s] all his mental powers” (Tolstoy). Vasili’s comments throughout the rest of the story focus on one aim — the purchase of the grove. The few detours he takes last for mere minutes as his mind and self tighten around the one item he can control — regardless of the weather and the failings of his spirit — his success and attainment of material wealth.

This outward appearance of fiscal obsession is further highlighted by Tolstoy’s use of perspective. From Vasili’s point of view, we see that, on the inside, Vasili is everything he appears to be, yet in even worse shape than one might imagine. The reader may view Vasili’s corruption first hand — a viral fungus of greed and self-denial that leads him to believe he is indeed Nikita’s “benefactor,” his mind twisted by the intensity of his need for greater status, granted by material wealth (Tolstoy). Vasili cannot face up to what his life has become, the real spiritual status he holds, so he creates illusions within himself that allow him to believe that he is indeed happy with his wealth centric life. But he isn’t — Tolstoy swaps consistently between Vasili and Nikita’s viewpoints, and while Nikita is not angelic in his position, he is truthful to himself, and receives some peace and contentment from his actions and life. Meanwhile, Vasili struggles to handle the smallest upset in his life, and — juxtaposed with Nikita’s thankfulness for existence and happiness in his approaching death — returns ever to thoughts centered around his gains, the only things that calm him, at least for a time (Tolstoy). But this focus on wealth gets Vasili nowhere, and leaves him only afraid — he may feel the emptiness that consumes him, realizes that he is insignificant and has made nothing of himself, and on the inside, is nothing — and these thoughts leave not only Vasili but the reader themselves reeling. How can one be so consumed, so obsessed, that, as the hour of death approaches, they focus not on memory, wife, nor child, but the property which will be found meaningless in the next world? How can one live, when they cannot, for but a moment, think of anything other than their greedy impulse for more?

Years of the pursuit of material wealth has fashioned a modern society that applauds the businessman, the entrepreneur, in all his shifty ways of procuring wealth and bending the minds of others to his will. The twisted one that attempts only to gain one over on another — to impose oneself on another and consume what is theirs, to take for one’s own — is damnable in any eye, yet popular figures are seemingly worshiped for such traits, for a ruthlessness that highlights a lack of empathy and humanity, an empty shell bent only on the destruction of others. Tolstoy highlights a more innocent case in a man who has yet to fully commit to this road, sensing the destruction that lay along such a path — and he may achieve salvation yet, though it seems to be against all odds. This warning is one with a positive connotation — for many, a reversal of the process could be possible, though one more step along this path may lead to a self-destructive future no one may turn away from, no matter how hard they might try.