The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Monday, January 24, 2022

Seneca, Moral Letters 20.5


Although you may look askance, Epicurus will once again be glad to settle my indebtedness: 

 

"Believe me, your words will be more imposing if you sleep on a cot and wear rags. For in that case you will not be merely saying them; you will be demonstrating their truth." 

 

I, at any rate, listen in a different spirit to the utterances of our friend Demetrius, after I have seen him reclining without even a cloak to cover him, and, more than this, without rugs to lie upon. He is not only a teacher of the truth, but a witness to the truth.

 

"May not a man, however, despise wealth when it lies in his very pocket?" 

 

Of course; he also is great-souled, who sees riches heaped up round him and, after wondering long and deeply because they have come into his possession, smiles, and hears rather than feels that they are his. It means much not to be spoiled by intimacy with riches; and he is truly great who is poor amidst riches.

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 20

 

I would like to think that I have a good instinct for discerning merit in others, and that my strong upbringing has protected me from being duped, but I still shudder to think of how often I have let myself fall for the wit and charm of charlatans and hypocrites. The initial temptation, of course, is to resent them, but I have come to understand that I am the only one who is responsible for my judgments, for better or for worse. 

 

There were the intellectual snobs, the religious demagogues, and the preening players. There was even a pouting seductress thrown in for good measure. What they all had in common was that their noble words were a whitewash for their dirty deeds, and I fell for it time and time again. Cuff and collar didn’t match. Was it any surprise that my own life was so disjointed when these were the people who impressed me the most? 

 

Show me, don’t tell me. A great part of gradually finding peace in my life has involved joining together what had been torn asunder, the necessary convergence of saying and doing. At times it has made my journey far more arduous, but it has always made it far more uplifting, and what they say is true: what good is a man if he can’t keep his word? 

 

Do I truly claim that wisdom must rule supreme, that virtue is the only currency, that it is a sign of character to sacrifice what is lesser for the sake of what is greater? Then let me prove it by example. Cast aside that craving for wealth and power, without any hesitation, to show without a doubt what really matters.

 

Poverty itself is never the goal, but gladly embracing poverty in order to steel my convictions is a powerful tool for practicing constancy. If I won’t risk my job to speak the truth, there is no way I can be prudent. If I won’t go against the tide of popularity, there is no way I can be brave. If I won’t stop feeding my face, there is no way I can be temperate. If I won’t give up profit to offer respect, there is no way I can be just. 

 

I can let myself be surrounded by riches, if that is where I happen to find myself, but I should not let them rule over me. That too can be a test of principles, to pass right through the flames of opulence without getting burned. 

—Reflection written in 9/2012

IMAGE: Jacques Callot, The Beggar with Crutches and a Pouch (c. 1623)



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