Seneca, On the Happy Life 47: Despising Fortune

"But how is it that this man studies philosophy and nevertheless lives the life of a rich man? Why does he say that wealth ought to be despised and yet possess it?

“That life should be despised, and yet live?

“That health should be despised, and yet guard it with the utmost care, and wish it to be as good as possible?

“Does he consider banishment to be an empty name, and say, ‘What evil is there in changing one country for another?’ and yet, if permitted, does he not grow old in his native land?

“Does he declare that there is no difference between a longer and a shorter time, and yet, if he is not prevented, lengthen out his life and flourish in a green old age?"

His answer is, that these things ought to be despised, not that he should not possess them, but that he should not possess them with fear and trembling. He does not drive them away from him, but when they leave him he says farewell to them without concern.

Where, indeed, can Fortune invest riches more securely than in a place from where they can always be recovered without any squabble with their trustee?

—Seneca the Younger, On the happy life, Chapter 21 (tr Stewart)

I believe that one of the great misunderstandings about Stoicism, and about any philosophy that treats virtue as the measure of man, concerns what it means to “despise” money, or any of the gifts of Fortune.

When I love something, I recognize that it is good, and I desire it. Now I might assume that the only contrary to love can be hate, in which case I recognize that something is bad, and I avoid it. There is a third option, in that I recognize that something is in itself neither good not bad, and I should therefore neither desire it nor avoid it. This third view is the Stoic concept of indifference, and it is what Stoic texts mean when they speak of despising Fortune.

The question is not whether we will, or should, possess wealth, but whether we will care or worry about it for its own sake. This holds true for health, for the comforts of home, for a long life, and for anything else in our circumstances. These things may be given, or they may be taken away, but we are called throughout to think only of the ways we can use both their presence and absence to the improvement of moral character.

Some people might assume that if I am not deliberately seeking wealth, then I must be trying to avoid it. Other people might assume that if I happen to be wealthy, that must be something I am dedicated to. Neither needs to be the case. I often say that I have known rich men who are good men, but I have never known a man to be good because he is rich.

Now we all know that most people will appear more than happy to take advantage of an upturn in their fortunes. Give a man more money, and he will most likely start thinking about what to spend it on, where to invest, how to build his security and his comfort. But take the money away, and he will most likely worry and fret about losing everything. Both reactions are misguided, because both assume that value is in the possession, and both reactions offers no benefit, because both define happiness through the presence of something external.

The result is that all fortune, both from things we receive or lose, will not help a vicious man be happy, since he will use fortune poorly. Conversely, all fortune, both from things we receive or lose, will help a virtuous man be happy, since he will order fortune wisely.

It is also fitting that only someone virtuous will actually make a good steward or caretaker of wealth. He will understand that any benefits to be derived from Fortune are directed to the improvement of the soul, and not about lining his wallet.  He will not be troubled about returning what he had been given.

Written in 7/1995

Image: Salvator Rosa, Allegory of Fortune (c. 1659)

This painting almost landed the artist in quite a bit of trouble, because the animals wallowing in the gifts of Fortune, and stomping on the gifts of learning, seem to clearly represent prominent leaders in the Church. Rosa wryly insisted that the donkey draped in red and gold, and covering the owl of wisdom in its shadow, need not necessarily be seen as a symbol of the Pope or the Church, but could easily represent any greedy and ignorant nobleman.