The Emptiness of Riches

"But since the soothing dressings of my reasonings are now sinking into you, I think I should use somewhat stronger remedies. Come then: even if the gifts of fortune were not fleeting and fitful, what is there in them that could ever truly become yours, or that does not, once looked at and considered, grow cheap?

Are riches precious by your nature or by their own? What is the better of them—the gold, or the heaped-up mass of money? And yet these shine more brightly by being spent than by being hoarded, since greed always makes men hated, while generosity makes them famous. But if what is transferred to another cannot remain with anyone, then money is precious only when, passed to others by the practice of giving, it ceases to be possessed.

But if the same money were heaped up with one man—however much there is anywhere in the world—it will have made all the rest destitute of it. A voice, certainly, fills the hearing of many alike and whole; but your riches cannot pass to many except broken up into pieces. And when that is done, they must necessarily make those they leave behind poor. O narrow and beggarly riches, then, which cannot be had whole by many, and which do not come to anyone without the poverty of everyone else!

Does the gleam of jewels draw your eyes? But if there is anything special in this splendor, the brightness belongs to the jewels, not to men; and I greatly wonder that men admire them so intensely. For what thing, lacking the motion and structure of a soul, can rightly seem beautiful to an ensouled and rational nature? These, although by the work of their Creator and by their own distinctness they draw to themselves some last shred of beauty, are still set below your excellence and in no way deserve your admiration.

Does the beauty of the fields delight you? Why not? It is a beautiful portion of a most beautiful work. In the same way we sometimes rejoice in the face of a calm sea; in the same way we marvel at the sky, the stars, the moon, and the sun. Does any of these touch you? Do you dare to glory in the splendor of any such thing? Are you yourself adorned with the flowers of spring, or does your fruitfulness swell into the summer's harvest? Why are you swept away by empty joys? Why do you embrace external goods as if they were your own? Fortune will never make those things yours that the nature of things made foreign to you. The fruits of the earth, no doubt, are owed to the nourishment of living creatures. But if you wish to fill your need with what suffices nature, there is no reason to seek fortune's overflow. For nature is content with few things and the smallest; and if you try to press its satisfaction with superfluities, what you pour in will become either unpleasant or harmful.

Now do you think it beautiful to gleam in varied garments? But if their appearance is pleasing to look at, I shall admire either the nature of the material or the skill of the craftsman. Or does a long line of servants make you happy? If they are vicious in their ways, they are a ruinous burden on the household and a fierce enemy to the master himself; but if they are honest, how shall another's honesty be counted among your riches?

From all of this it is clearly shown that none of these things, which you count among your goods, is your own good. And if there is in them no beauty worth desiring, what is there for you to grieve over when they are lost or rejoice in when they are kept? But if they are beautiful by nature, what is that to you? For these would have pleased of themselves, even set apart from your wealth. They are not precious because they have come into your riches; rather, because they seemed precious, you preferred to add them to your riches.

But what is it that you seek with so great an uproar of fortune? You seek, I believe, to drive away want by abundance. And yet this turns out the very opposite for you. For many props are needed to guard the variety of precious furnishings; and it is true that those who possess very much need very much, and, on the contrary, that those need least who measure their abundance by the necessity of nature, not by the superfluity of ambition. Is there then no good of your own, planted within you, so that you must seek your goods in external and separate things? Has the condition of things been so reversed that an animal divine by virtue of its reason should seem to itself splendid only by the possession of lifeless furniture? Other creatures are content with what is theirs; but you, like to God in your mind, seek ornaments for your excellent nature from the lowest things, and do not understand how great an injury you do your Creator. He willed that the human race should surpass all earthly things; you thrust your dignity down below the very lowest. For if every good of anything is agreed to be more precious than that to which it belongs, then, when you judge the cheapest of things to be your goods, you place yourselves below them by your own estimation—and that quite deservedly. For this is the condition of human nature, that only when it knows itself does it excel other things, while that same nature is reduced below the beasts if it ceases to know itself. For to other living creatures not to know themselves is by nature; to men it is a fault.

How widely, then, does this error of yours extend, you who think that anything can be adorned with adornments not its own! That cannot be. For if anything shines by what is added to it, it is the added things themselves that are praised, while that which is covered and veiled by them endures none the less in its own ugliness.

But I say that nothing is good which harms the one who has it. Am I lying in this? Not at all, you say. And yet riches have very often harmed those who possessed them, since every worst man, and on that account the more greedy for what is another's, thinks himself alone the most worthy to have whatever gold or jewels there are anywhere. You, then, who now in your anxiety dread the pike and the sword, if you had entered upon the path of this life as an empty-handed traveler, you would sing in the face of the robber. O the splendid blessedness of mortal wealth, which, once you have got it, you cease to be safe!"

'But since my reasonings begin to work a soothing effect within thy mind, methinks I may resort to remedies somewhat stronger. Come, suppose, now, the gifts of Fortune were not fleeting and transitory, what is there in them capable of ever becoming truly thine, or which does not lose value when looked at steadily and fairly weighed in the balance? Are riches, I pray thee, precious either through thy nature or in their own? What are they but mere gold and heaps of money? Yet these fine things show their quality better in the spending than in the hoarding; for I suppose 'tis plain that greed Alva's makes men hateful, while liberality brings fame. But that which is transferred to another cannot remain in one's own possession; and if that be so, then money is only precious when it is given away, and, by being transferred to others, ceases to be one's own. Again, if all the money in the world were heaped up in one man's possession, all others would be made poor. Sound fills the ears of many at the same time without being broken into parts, but your riches cannot pass to many without being lessened in the process. And when this happens, they must needs impoverish those whom they leave. How poor and cramped a thing, then, is riches, which more than one cannot possess as an unbroken whole, which falls not to any one man's lot without the impoverishment of everyone else! Or is it the glitter of gems that allures the eye? Yet, how rarely excellent soever may be their splendour, remember the flashing light is in the jewels, not in the man. Indeed, I greatly marvel at men's admiration of them; for what can rightly seem beautiful to a being endowed with life and reason, if it lack the movement and structure of life? And although such things do in the end take on them more beauty from their Maker's care and their own brilliancy, still they in no wise merit your admiration since their excellence is set at a lower grade than your own.

'Does the beauty of the fields delight you? Surely, yes; it is a beautiful part of a right beautiful whole. Fitly indeed do we at times enjoy the serene calm of the sea, admire the sky, the stars, the moon, the sun. Yet is any of these thy concern? Dost thou venture to boast thyself of the beauty of any one of them? Art thou decked with spring's flowers? is it thy fertility that swelleth in the fruits of autumn? Why art thou moved with empty transports? why embracest thou an alien excellence as thine own? Never will fortune make thine that which the nature of things has excluded from thy ownership. Doubtless the fruits of the earth are given for the sustenance of living creatures. But if thou art content to supply thy wants so far as suffices nature, there is no need to resort to fortune's bounty. Nature is content with few things, and with a very little of these. If thou art minded to force superfluities upon her when she is satisfied, that which thou addest will prove either unpleasant or harmful. But, now, thou thinkest it fine to shine in raiment of divers colours; yet—if, indeed, there is any pleasure in the sight of such things—it is the texture or the artist's skill which I shall admire.

'Or perhaps it is a long train of servants that makes thee happy? Why, if they behave viciously, they are a ruinous burden to thy house, and exceeding dangerous to their own master; while if they are honest, how canst thou count other men's virtue in the sum of thy possessions? From all which 'tis plainly proved that not one of these things which thou reckonest in the number of thy possessions is really thine. And if there is in them no beauty to be desired, why shouldst thou either grieve for their loss or find joy in their continued possession? While if they are beautiful in their own nature, what is that to thee? They would have been not less pleasing in themselves, though never included among thy possessions. For they derive not their preciousness from being counted in thy riches, but rather thou hast chosen to count them in thy riches because they seemed to thee precious.

'Then, what seek ye by all this noisy outcry about fortune? To chase away poverty, I ween, by means of abundance. And yet ye find the result just contrary. Why, this varied array of precious furniture needs more accessories for its protection; it is a true saying that they want most who possess most, and, conversely, they want very little who measure their abundance by nature's requirements, not by the superfluity of vain display. Have ye no good of your own implanted within you, that ye seek your good in things external and separate? Is the nature of things so reversed that a creature divine by right of reason can in no other way be splendid in his own eyes save by the possession of lifeless chattels? Yet, while other things are content with their own, ye who in your intellect are God-like seek from the lowest of things adornment for a nature of supreme excellence, and perceive not how great a wrong ye do your Maker. His will was that mankind should excel all things on earth. Ye thrust down your worth beneath the lowest of things. For if that in which each thing finds its good is plainly more precious than that whose good it is, by your own estimation ye put yourselves below the vilest of things, when ye deem these vile things to be your good: nor does this fall out undeservedly. Indeed, man is so constituted that he then only excels other things when he knows himself; but he is brought lower than the beasts if he lose this self-knowledge. For that other creatures should be ignorant of themselves is natural; in man it shows as a defect. How extravagant, then, is this error of yours, in thinking that anything can be embellished by adornments not its own. It cannot be. For if such accessories add any lustre, it is the accessories that get the praise, while that which they veil and cover remains in its pristine ugliness. And again I say, That is no good, which injures its possessor. Is this untrue? No, quite true, thou sayest. And yet riches have often hurt those that possessed them, since the worst of men, who are all the more covetous by reason of their wickedness, think none but themselves worthy to possess all the gold and gems the world contains. So thou, who now dreadest pike and sword, mightest have trolled a carol "in the robber's face," hadst thou entered the road of life with empty pockets. Oh, wondrous blessedness of perishable wealth, whose acquisition robs thee of security!'