Seneca, On Peace of Mind 8.3

Are you not ashamed of yourself, you who gaze upon riches with astonished admiration? Look upon the Universe: you will see the gods quite bare of property, and possessing nothing, though they give everything.

Do you think that this man who has stripped himself of all fortuitous accessories is a pauper, or one like to the immortal gods?

Do you call Demetrius, Pompey's freedman, a happier man, he who was not ashamed to be richer than Pompey, who was daily furnished with a list of the number of his slaves, as a general is with that of his army, though he had long deserved that all his riches should consist of a pair of underlings, and a roomier cell than the other slaves?

If I look at it from the perspective of Nature, and not merely of Fortune, it seems quite ridiculous how we run about in a frenzy of acquisition, committing all of our efforts to buying more things, to increasing our reputation, to winning power over the lives of others. We think we are like gods when we possess more of what surrounds us.

Yet there is nothing divine about that at all. Whatever approaches to godliness will grow in the perfection of its own being, not through anything external. It becomes complete within itself, thrives from its self-sufficiency, builds a mastery over its own actions, and strives to depends upon nothing else. This is divine strength.

What we are accustomed to calling strength is actually a form of weakness, a reliance upon the worth of everything except itself. It takes on the form of a sickly dependence, even an addiction.

My property may be great, my house may be luxurious, my friends may be numerous, but that really says nothing about me. I am who I shape myself to be, within my own soul, and these things do not add or subtract anything to or from my character. Such things have the good of their own natures, not to be confused with the good of my own nature.

Can I make use of them, either by their presence or their absence? Yes, but they do not inform me—I inform them. To require more is to become less, and to require less is to become more. I should not be so quick to assume that the man who has nothing to his name is a failure; perhaps he has come to own himself. Maybe I am confusing what it really means to be rich or poor.

What made Pompey great? He commanded armies, won countless battles, built up power over the state, acquired tremendous wealth, and plotted and schemed with the other movers and shakers. He was consul three times, entered Rome in triumph three times, and was assassinated by those who feared him. Were those the things that made him great?

I find myself much more impressed by Demetrius, who had access to so much, but was satisfied with so very little.

Written in 9/2011

IMAGE: Gabriel de Saint-Aubin, The Triumph of Pompey (1765)