Who can doubt, however, that the wise
man, if he is rich, has a wider field for the development of his powers than if
he is poor, seeing that in the latter case the only virtue which he can display
is that of neither being perverted nor crushed by his poverty, whereas if he
has riches, he will have a wide field for the exhibition of temperance,
generosity, laboriousness, methodical arrangement, and grandeur.
The wise man will not despise himself,
however short of stature he may be, but nevertheless he will wish to be tall. Even
though he be feeble and one-eyed he may be in good health, yet he would prefer
to have bodily strength, and that too, while he knows all the while that he has
something which is even more powerful: he will endure illness, and will hope
for good health.
For some things, though they may be
trifles compared with the sum total, and though they may be taken away without
destroying the chief good, yet they add somewhat to that constant cheerfulness
which arises from virtue. . . .
—Seneca
the Younger, On the happy life,
Chapter 22 (tr Stewart)
This is
the sort of Stoic passage that, quite honestly, makes me a bit nervous at
first. This concern ends up hardly being about Seneca’s argument at all, and is
really about my own weakness.
For the
wise man, wealth can become a means for greater good, and an opportunity to
practice greater virtue. By having more at his disposal, he can do more for
others, and he can exercise a greatness of character that would be impossible
if he was poor. In poverty he may learn to order himself, but in plenty he can
also give order to what is around him.
Things
like wealth, health, or strength, though they are not in themselves the highest
good, can certainly be preferred as a way of aiding us in practicing the
highest good. The Stoic will embrace the chance to employ them, though because
his goal is far greater, he will also gladly accept their loss.
I
immediately see the soundness in the argument, but I question the soundness in
myself. Everything here hinges upon the premise that a man of wealth and means
must first be wise, he must seek to do good above all else, and he must
recognize that his position is about service, not about being served. It
requires something that seems quite difficult: possessing great fortune, but
not loving great fortune.
How many
such people can there truly be? I know I am not one of them. I know that even
King Solomon, for all of his wisdom, succumbed to the temptations of wealth,
idolatry, and lust.
The
question is really much like the challenge of Plato’s Philosopher King. Because
bad people are attracted to wealth and power, how can we assure that good
people are inspired to give right purpose to wealth and power? How can we be
certain they will not in turn be drawn into greed and lust themselves?
Some see
political corruption, so they advocate the abolition of government. Others
see the abuse of money, so they advocate the abolition of wealth. Yet instead
of assuming the worst of men, can we not work to make the best of men? It isn’t
wealth or power that is the problem, but the fact that we are greedy and
selfish with our wealth and power. That is precisely why the Stoic argues that
we must build character above all else, so that all other things in life can be
used for benefit.
That I
am skeptical about rich men being good means only that I know I am not good
enough to be rich. I should see this is a call to become better, not to merely
accept what is worse. I should never say that something cannot be found if I’ve
always been looking for it in the wrong place. The solutions to the struggles
of this life are not just economic, legal, or political, but are rather
essentially moral. Inspire virtue in men first in order, and the rest will take
care of itself.
Written in 8/1995
Image: Ingobertus, King Solomon (c. 880)
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