Seneca, Moral Letters 27.4

Satellius Quadratus, a feeder, and consequently a fawner, upon addle-pated millionaires, and also (for this quality goes with the other two) a flouter of them, suggested to Sabinus that he should have philologists to gather up the bits. 

 

Sabinus remarked that each slave cost him one hundred thousand sesterces; Satellius replied: "You might have bought as many bookcases for a smaller sum." But Sabinus held to the opinion that what any member of his household knew, he himself knew also.

 

This same Satellius began to advise Sabinus to take wrestling lessons—sickly, pale, and thin as he was, Sabinus answered: "How can I? I can scarcely stay alive now." 

 

"Don't say that, I implore you," replied the other, "consider how many perfectly healthy slaves you have!" 

 

No man is able to borrow or buy a sound mind; in fact, as it seems to me, even though sound minds were for sale, they would not find buyers. Depraved minds, however, are bought and sold every day. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 27

 

In every walk of life, we will find the self-important men, who define themselves by their trappings of property, and yet these are the least of men, because they have surrendered the power to be their own masters. 

 

In every walk of life, we will also find the flatterers, who have decided that the way forward is to win the approval of those self-important men, in the hopes of one day becoming just as bloated and dependent as their idols. 

 

The feed off each other, where the first thinks he owns the second and the second is driven to acquire the status of the first, for both have sadly forgotten how they could thrive on their own merits. 

 

For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?

 

There is an odd contradiction within every covetous man, where he will do almost anything to increase his standing with the rich and powerful, though he simultaneously harbors a deep resentment against his chosen overlords. He browns his nose at one moment, and then he spits venom once the boss turns his back. 

 

Could it be that he knows full well how he is slowly but surely transforming into the very monster he despises? Does Satellius snipe and quip as a defense mechanism to avoid gazing into his own emptiness? 

 

I do know that whenever I succumb to such bitterness and cynicism, it is always brought on by my own weakness of character, never by what another has forced upon me. He may be incredibly wicked in his ways, but I am the one who has firmly resolved to lick his boots.

 

Do I somehow think I can have it both ways? I can equivocate all I like in theory, and then I am faced with the crystal-clear difference in practice. No, I can either cling to the virtues, and so be willing to take or leave the riches, or I can cling to the riches, and then I must be willing to compromise the virtues. Which comes first? 

 

No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.

 

An abiding good within me only arises from holding to the truth of my conscience, and it should never be bought or sold for any other commodity. As often as I see people trading convictions for trinkets, I am not obliged to follow suit. 

—Reflection written in 10/2012 

IMAGE: Pieter Bruegel the Younger, Man with the Moneybag and Flatterers (c. 1592)