There was a time when a fool and his money were soon parted, but

Adlai Stevenson I, a statesman of wit and piercing vision, once proclaimed: “There was a time when a fool and his money were soon parted, but now it happens to everybody.” His words are wrapped in irony, yet beneath the humor lies a grave truth about the fragility of wealth, the cunning of the age, and the vulnerability of even the wisest among us. Once, it was said that only the foolish squandered their fortune; now, Stevenson laments, the tides of society and economy sweep away riches from fool and sage alike.

The ancients too understood this danger. Proverbs from long ago warned that folly leads to poverty, that the man who spends without thought is soon left in want. But Stevenson, speaking in the age of industrial growth and modern commerce, reveals a darker transformation: that in the web of schemes, markets, taxes, and ever-growing demands, even the careful and prudent may find their gold slipping away. In his voice we hear both satire and sorrow, for the world had grown more complex than the simple sayings of old.

History offers many examples of this truth. In the Great Depression of the 1930s, not only the careless lost their fortunes. Bankers, merchants, farmers, and families—men and women who had saved, labored, and planned—found their wealth vanish like smoke. It was not folly but forces beyond their control: collapsing markets, failing banks, broken systems. What had once been seen as the punishment of the foolish became the plight of the multitudes. Stevenson’s words echo that legacy: the modern world spares no one.

Yet his wisdom also reminds us of humility. If once people believed that wealth was simply a matter of intelligence or discipline, his remark shatters that pride. For chance, corruption, and the hidden hand of great powers can undo even the wise. The lesson is that no man should look upon the fallen with contempt, saying, “It was their folly.” Instead, he should recognize that fortune’s wheel turns for all, and what befell another may tomorrow be his own fate.

But Stevenson’s jest is not only despair—it is also a call to resilience. If money can slip away from all alike, then let wealth not be our only treasure. Let us cultivate virtues that no market crash can steal: integrity, wisdom, friendship, and courage. The wise of every age have said this: gold is a fragile master, but character endures. To cling only to coin is to build a house on sand; to build upon virtue is to found a fortress upon rock.

The practical lesson is clear: be prudent with what you have, but do not let your soul be enslaved by fear of losing it. Diversify your labors, live with moderation, and prepare your heart for change. Remember that money may be parted from all, but the one who carries wisdom and strength within can rebuild, can endure, can rise again when fortune falls.

Therefore, let Stevenson’s words echo in your memory. The time has come when not only fools are parted from their wealth, but all who live under the storms of the modern world. Do not despair of this, but learn. Place your hope not in fleeting treasure, but in the eternal riches of character and virtue. For though the coins in your hand may vanish like dust, the strength in your spirit will endure like iron—and with it, you may yet forge anew the life that fortune has tried to take away.