Marriage, like money, is still with us; and, like money

“Marriage, like money, is still with us; and, like money, progressively devalued.” These words of Robert Graves, the English poet and scholar, strike with the quiet irony of a prophet mourning the decline of sacred things. Beneath his wit lies sorrow — for he speaks of two great institutions that once held the world together: marriage and money. Each was meant to bind trust between human beings, one through love and the other through exchange. Yet Graves, writing in the modern age, saw both losing their soul, retaining their form but not their worth. His words are not condemnation but lament — the recognition that what endures in body may perish in spirit.

In the ancient world, both marriage and money were built upon faith. Marriage was a covenant before gods and kin, an unbreakable pact that united families, lands, and destinies. Money, too, was once a symbol of faith — a piece of metal whose value came from shared belief, a token of mutual trust between people. Over time, both grew in complexity, yet lost their purity. Marriage, once sacred, became contractual; money, once real, became abstract. And as the symbols multiplied, the meanings thinned. Graves saw in his age a world where love was often traded for convenience, and vows were spoken lightly — where both coin and promise were easily spent and swiftly forgotten.

To say that marriage is “progressively devalued” is not to say it is worthless, but that its worth is misunderstood. Just as a nation may print endless currency until its money buys nothing, so too may a society inflate the image of love without substance — weddings without commitment, passion without endurance. The outward form remains beautiful, but its power fades. The poet grieves that the union once sanctified by sacrifice has become a transaction of pleasure, and that permanence has been replaced by preference. What was once built to endure hardship is now abandoned at the first storm.

The metaphor of money deepens the insight. For money and marriage alike reflect the moral health of a people. When integrity falters, both collapse. Consider the tale of Rome, whose empire glittered with gold even as its virtue decayed. The Roman denarius, once pure silver, was slowly mixed with base metals until its value dwindled — just as Roman marriage, once disciplined and sacred, gave way to indulgence and betrayal. As the coin was debased, so was the covenant; and what followed was not prosperity, but ruin. Graves, steeped in history, knew this pattern well: when society forgets the sacredness of its bonds, its greatness begins to fade.

Yet his words carry not despair, but warning — for devaluation is not destruction. Both money and marriage can be redeemed when trust and meaning are restored. To reclaim the value of marriage, one must treat it not as a possession but as a craft of the soul — an art that demands patience, generosity, and truth. To love is not to own, but to serve; to remain not because it is easy, but because it is right. The same is true of wealth — money regains its worth only when it serves life, not when it rules it. The sacredness of both lies not in their symbols, but in their purpose: connection, trust, and continuity.

Graves’s observation, then, is both a mirror and a challenge. He invites us to ask not whether we still believe in marriage, but whether we still understand it. In an age of speed and spectacle, we must remember that the truest value is invisible — measured not by gold or passion, but by faithfulness. The old wisdom of the ancients endures: that what is easy to acquire is easy to waste, but what is built through effort grows in worth with every passing year. To preserve what matters, one must invest the heart, not the coin.

So, my children, heed the poet’s quiet lament. Marriage, like money, will always exist — but its value rests in our hands. Guard it as you would guard your honor; cherish it as you would cherish your word. Do not spend love carelessly, nor treat devotion as currency to be traded. Let your commitments be pure, your promises sincere, your partnerships steadfast. For in a world where everything is measured by price, the greatest wealth remains that which cannot be bought — a love that endures, and a vow that still means something when the years have made it costly to keep.