A first-class fortune.
Jul. 7th, 2011 10:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
davywavyFor the last couple of weeks the Euromillions lottery has been rolling over, bringing to jackpot up to a (currently estimated) £150million or so last Tuesday. Naturally I bought a ticket, although statistically speaking this is by some margin the least sensible of my investments.
What are the odds of winning the Euromillions? I googled this question last night, and in its wisdom Google directed me on to the Daily Mail discussion thread on “The Jackpot Rollover”. The comments in the thread, which gave a frankly dismal picture of human nature, fell into three rough categories:
1. “I’ve got the winning ticket in my pocket … i don’t think! haha hope i win.”
2. “Sadly the money will probably be won by some chavvish person who will fritter it away … if it was me I would try to do some REAL good like funding animal charities.”
3. “£150m is a disgusting amount everyone posting here who has bought a ticket is just greedy nobody should be allowed to have that much money, why don’t they make 150 millionaires instead come on euromillions.”
Obviously the main reason, in answer to (3), that the prize isn’t a mere £1million is that people like me wouldn’t buy a ticket, for the same reason I don’t enter the National Lottery every week.
But why not? Objectively speaking, the National Lottery and the Euromillions are almost equally stupid investments. Also, a jackpot win on the National Lottery would certainly change my life. But evidently my brain has decided that it wouldn’t change it enough to make it worth the gamble. Am I greedy? Well, yes, I think we all know the answer to that one, but I think there’s another factor at work here too and last night I found the following passage in Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo which goes some way to articulating it:
“All of which means that you have lost around one million seven hundred thousand francs this month?”
“It’s not a matter of ‘around’, that’s the figure.”
“The deuce it is!” Monte Cristo said sympathetically. “For a third-class fortune, that’s a hard blow.”
“A third-class fortune!” Danglars exclaimed, slightly insulted. “What the devil do you mean by that?”
“Oh yes, no doubt,” said Monte Cristo. “I divide the rich into three categories; first-class, second-class and third-class fortunes. A first-class fortune, I would call one which is made up of disposable treasures, land, mines and incomes from government bonds in countries like France, Austria or England, provided these treasures , possessions or incomes add up to a total of at least a hundred million. A second-class fortune is one whose owner possesses factories, business interests, viceroyships or principalities yielding under one million five hundred thousand francs, all adding up to a capital of some fifty million. Finally, a third-class fortune would be capital paying compound interest, profits depending on the will of others or on chance, which are liable to be damaged by a bankruptcy or shattered by a telegraph signal; occasional speculation and other operations subject to the whims of a fate which we might call force mineure, by analogy with the whims of nature which are force majeure; all of it amounting to a real or hypothetical capital of some fifteen million. Isn’t that roughly your situation?”
“Good heavens, yes!” said Danglars.
“So that means that six months like the one you have just had would send a third class firm to its deathbed,” Monte Cristo said imperturbably.
In spite of his barony, and the superior quality of his clothes and wine, Danglars is still prey to the same bourgeois concerns as any village notary – improving his situation, worrying about financial insecurity, providing for his family. Monte Cristo, on the other hand, belongs to the nineteenth-century super-rich; he has a first class fortune which insulates him from war, disaster, etc insofar as any man ever can be; he can endow his citizenhood like largesse on whichever country pleases him by virtue of its climate, relaxed tax regime, the beauty of its women, etc. Even though he might go to the same Paris tailor, wine merchant etc as Danglars, he is in a totally different economic class.
I think this is the lure of the Euromillions jackpot – not just the cool stuff you could buy, but the chance to move into the superrich category, and the freedom it would bring – if only to see what it was like. You might say that National Lottery tickets are mostly bought by people who want to move up into the bourgeoisie, but Euromillions tickets are also bought by people who want to move up out of it. Daily Mail readers for instance. And me of course.
Anyhow, looks like I’ll be making another “investment” tomorrow. How about you?
What are the odds of winning the Euromillions? I googled this question last night, and in its wisdom Google directed me on to the Daily Mail discussion thread on “The Jackpot Rollover”. The comments in the thread, which gave a frankly dismal picture of human nature, fell into three rough categories:
1. “I’ve got the winning ticket in my pocket … i don’t think! haha hope i win.”
2. “Sadly the money will probably be won by some chavvish person who will fritter it away … if it was me I would try to do some REAL good like funding animal charities.”
3. “£150m is a disgusting amount everyone posting here who has bought a ticket is just greedy nobody should be allowed to have that much money, why don’t they make 150 millionaires instead come on euromillions.”
Obviously the main reason, in answer to (3), that the prize isn’t a mere £1million is that people like me wouldn’t buy a ticket, for the same reason I don’t enter the National Lottery every week.
But why not? Objectively speaking, the National Lottery and the Euromillions are almost equally stupid investments. Also, a jackpot win on the National Lottery would certainly change my life. But evidently my brain has decided that it wouldn’t change it enough to make it worth the gamble. Am I greedy? Well, yes, I think we all know the answer to that one, but I think there’s another factor at work here too and last night I found the following passage in Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo which goes some way to articulating it:
“All of which means that you have lost around one million seven hundred thousand francs this month?”
“It’s not a matter of ‘around’, that’s the figure.”
“The deuce it is!” Monte Cristo said sympathetically. “For a third-class fortune, that’s a hard blow.”
“A third-class fortune!” Danglars exclaimed, slightly insulted. “What the devil do you mean by that?”
“Oh yes, no doubt,” said Monte Cristo. “I divide the rich into three categories; first-class, second-class and third-class fortunes. A first-class fortune, I would call one which is made up of disposable treasures, land, mines and incomes from government bonds in countries like France, Austria or England, provided these treasures , possessions or incomes add up to a total of at least a hundred million. A second-class fortune is one whose owner possesses factories, business interests, viceroyships or principalities yielding under one million five hundred thousand francs, all adding up to a capital of some fifty million. Finally, a third-class fortune would be capital paying compound interest, profits depending on the will of others or on chance, which are liable to be damaged by a bankruptcy or shattered by a telegraph signal; occasional speculation and other operations subject to the whims of a fate which we might call force mineure, by analogy with the whims of nature which are force majeure; all of it amounting to a real or hypothetical capital of some fifteen million. Isn’t that roughly your situation?”
“Good heavens, yes!” said Danglars.
“So that means that six months like the one you have just had would send a third class firm to its deathbed,” Monte Cristo said imperturbably.
In spite of his barony, and the superior quality of his clothes and wine, Danglars is still prey to the same bourgeois concerns as any village notary – improving his situation, worrying about financial insecurity, providing for his family. Monte Cristo, on the other hand, belongs to the nineteenth-century super-rich; he has a first class fortune which insulates him from war, disaster, etc insofar as any man ever can be; he can endow his citizenhood like largesse on whichever country pleases him by virtue of its climate, relaxed tax regime, the beauty of its women, etc. Even though he might go to the same Paris tailor, wine merchant etc as Danglars, he is in a totally different economic class.
I think this is the lure of the Euromillions jackpot – not just the cool stuff you could buy, but the chance to move into the superrich category, and the freedom it would bring – if only to see what it was like. You might say that National Lottery tickets are mostly bought by people who want to move up into the bourgeoisie, but Euromillions tickets are also bought by people who want to move up out of it. Daily Mail readers for instance. And me of course.
Anyhow, looks like I’ll be making another “investment” tomorrow. How about you?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-07-08 11:44 am (UTC)I admit that would be entertaining, but I'm not sure the odds are that similar.
no subject
Date: 2011-07-08 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-08 12:00 pm (UTC)