Seneca, On the Happy Life 33: Rise to That Height . . .

. . . Let the highest good, then, rise to that height from which no force can dislodge it, where no pain can ascend, no hope, no fear, nor anything else that can impair the authority of the highest good.

There alone virtue can make her way; by her aid that hill must be climbed. She will bravely stand her ground and endure whatever may befall her not only resignedly, but even willingly.

She will know that all hard times come in obedience to natural laws, and like a good soldier, she will bear wounds, count scars, and when transfixed and dying will yet adore the general for whom she falls. She will bear in mind the old maxim, "Follow God." . . .

—Seneca the Younger, On the happy life, Chapter 15 (tr Stewart)

The truly happy life will be one that is in a state of unassailable liberty. Like any proper Roman, Seneca employs the image of a soldier capturing and holding the high ground, though such a martial theme may not speak to everyone. One might also consider the analogy of how the ascent of a mountain provides a broader perspective, or how the undertaking of a journey builds awareness and commitment, or how the safety of one’s true home can offer comfort and stability from a painful world.

I once, only partly in jest, made use of the story of The Three Little Pigs to explain something similar to a group of fifth graders. They were young enough to still know the story, but also old enough to start reflecting on all the different things it could mean; they were at that wonderful point between the grammar and dialectic stages of learning.

There will be those things in the world that seem to threaten us, and those people in the world who want to hurt us. That would be the Wolf.

We worry about the dangers, and we wonder what barriers we can put between those dangers and ourselves. Those would be the pigs and their houses.

If we rely upon the weak and pliable defenses of Fortune, and we prepare ourselves poorly, we will succumb to our circumstances. Those would be the first two pigs and their houses made of straw and wood.

But if we build upon something immovable, and we are ready for whatever may befall us, we may count ourselves content in this life. That would be the last pig and his house of stone.

This perhaps reflects poorly upon me, but I always preferred the older versions of the tale, the ones that hadn’t been cleaned up, where the wolf tries to come down the chimney, is trapped in a pot of boiling hot water, and becomes lunch for the pig. Not only is the last pig safe, but the tables have also been turned.

Some people think that rising above our conditions involves simply denying the danger, ignoring what is real, or disposing of whatever burdens us. That is hardly virtue, but cowardice.

Seneca’s soldier fighting for the high ground is not running from the battle, but is in the midst of the carnage. It is not that he is immune to pain and death, but that he faces these things with character. He may fall in the battle, but it is not his body that is invulnerable. It is his soul that cannot be defeated, because he knows that his own virtue is that unconquerable highest good.

My virtue is my house of stone, because no one can take it from me.

To “follow God” is not the murderous ravings of the fanatic, who is driven by his own hatred and desire to conquer others, or the despair of the determinist, who has already surrendered to blind fate. For the Stoic, it means understanding that all of Nature follows a Divine order and purpose, and that I can freely choose to find my own peace within Nature by living well. This never depends upon what happens to me, but upon what I do.

In my own mind, I will often think about the squares of British infantry that stood against the French cavalry at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815. It is hardly their final victory in the battle itself that inspires me, because I have much the same respect for the opposing French Cuirassiers.

Whatever image can help us to understand this ideal, I believe it requires the recognition that any true victory is over oneself, and not over another. 

Written in 1/2012

Image: Henri Felix Emmanuel Philippoteaux, The Battle of Waterloo: The British Squares Receiving the Charge of the French Cuirassiers (1874)