The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

Musonius Rufus, Lectures 15.6


But what seems to me most monstrous of all, some who do not even have poverty as an excuse, and in spite of prosperity and even riches are so inhuman as not to rear later-born offspring in order that those earlier born may inherit greater wealth—by such a deed of wickedness planning prosperity for their surviving children.

That these may have a greater share of their father's goods, their parents rob them of brothers, never having learned how much better it is to have many brothers than to have many possessions.

For possessions inspire intrigue on the part of the neighbors, but brothers discourage intriguers. And possessions need support, but brothers are the strongest supporters. One cannot compare a good friend to a brother nor the help that others, friends and equals, give to that which a brother gives.

If security and wealth were the conditions for raising a family, you would think that the richer people would have more children. Yet all of my experience tells me that quite the opposite is the case, that families tend to become smaller with greater prosperity.

Perhaps the psychologists and sociologists can offer some deeper insight on this, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s because they actually think of money and power as ends, and not as means at all. They wish to acquire, and they wish to consume, and they wish to be revered. The child simply becomes an extension of that, another aspect of vanity, a reflection of the parents’ glory.

If I thought that my own life was measured by my worldly possessions, I would probably also be hesitant to give of myself. If I can’t have it, and get something out of it, what possible purpose would it serve? If I looked at a child like an investment for my own satisfaction, it would be foolish to spread myself too thin.

Once I define a good life by the conveniences and luxuries that it offers, then I will also assume that my child’s happiness will require such accessories. I may then work to provide all the externals, and I may too easily neglect the internals. Forming a successful son or daughter, as the world would define it, will cost me quite a bit, so one of them is probably enough. Perhaps I will add a second as a backup. A third might be pushing it.

So to make my precious child more successful, to make him more like me, I will pass on my money. Isn’t that the greatest gift I can give him?

There might be another option, one that will never occur to most people, because they sadly make life about gratification instead of love. Inheriting a million dollars sounds quite nice, and I will rub my hands thinking about what I can buy with it.

There is something far more precious in this life, however, and it is called friendship.

If I had to choose between giving my son more money or a loyal companion for life, which would I choose? Let me give him a brother, or a sister, the joy of fellowship. Money comes and goes very quickly, but the bond of family is much harder to break.

If I had my brother or sister with me, the gutter would feel more bearable, far more bearable than being alone in my empty suburban home.

I was once madly in love with a girl who had our whole lives planned out, including our careers, where we would live, and the timing of our children. There would be two, and only two, and the names were already chosen. The first would come along six years after we were married, and the second another four years after that. The first would be another lawyer, but the second would be encouraged to become a doctor. The house was going to be a frilly Victorian, and I was even told I could have an Irish Wolfhound for the yard.

“Why not a third or a fourth child?”

“Don’t’ be so stupid! that’s not in the budget.” 

Written in 2/2000

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