The suicide of the youngest son of the richest man in America leads a nation to ask: how can someone with such a fortune be so unhappy? Upon the death of Zachary Smith Reynolds in 1932, the anonymous author Y.Y attempts a misjudged analysis of who has it better, the rich or the poor? While this piece is not a devoted defence of the rich, it does not consider the roots of wealth inequality, or consider that such problems might be systemic. Instead, the author attempts to make the rich more relatable – “It is true that the rich man has his own troubles” – and tries (with poor judgement) to make them sympathetic – “he feels acute distress when he considers the wickedness of the poor and his own helplessness to remedy it”. The article is a fascinating insight into the attitudes of the aristocracy and the foundations of the modern class system.
There is nothing like the violent end of a millionaire, or indeed of any rich man, for turning the ordinary man into a philosopher. Even the barmaid in her comments becomes as wise as Aristotle, and puts the whole thing in a nutshell as she informs her customers: “Too much money – that’s the trouble.” And the tram conductor, as he punches a ticket, endorses the profound remarks of the dean on “the mad pursuit of pleasure”. Who would be a rich man, able to command all the pleasures that money can buy, if after a brief experience of pleasure comes an aposiopesis with a pistol-shot? To aim at happiness, we tell ourselves, seems to be the surest way of missing it. To be rich enough to purchase pleasure is apparently to be too rich to enjoy it.
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