Seneca, On Peace of Mind 2.10

It is like Homer's Achilles lying first upon his face, then upon his back, placing himself in various attitudes, and, as sick people are wont, enduring none of them for long, and using changes as though they were remedies.

Hence men undertake aimless wanderings, travel along distant shores, and at one time at sea, at another by land, try to soothe that fickleness of disposition that always is dissatisfied with the present.

The story of Achilles is so very old, and yet it is also so very contemporary. For all of his skill and strength, he found it quite difficult to remain steadfast in his character.

He was once friends with Agamemnon, but then becomes his enemy. Here he wishes to have Briseis returned to him, and there he refuses to take her back. First he is quite willing to fight, and then he will not fight, and then he is willing to fight again, but for a rather different reason than before.

At one moment he desecrates the body of Hector, and then at another moment, moved by the words of Priam, he provides a proper burial.

Even when Achilles has avenged the death of Patroclus, he is still restless, uneasy, tossing back and forth. Does he even know who he truly is, or what he should rightly want? He is never quite happy with anything that happens, and his attention quickly turns to something else, though he is equally fiery and indignant in all of his moods. The great hero may master others on the field of battle, but he has very little mastery over himself.

Trying to teach the Iliad has long been one of my favorite endeavors, because there can sometimes come a wonderful moment where young people no longer think of it as dusty old book, but they see all of human greatness and folly, virtue and vice, condensed in its pages.

One student asked hesitantly, “Is it just me, or is Achilles sort of like a rich spoiled brat, and the only reason anyone puts up with him is that he’s also the star of the football team, and the girls think he’s awful cute?”

“How can one person’s vanity and pettiness cause so much grief?” wondered another.

“Do his thoughts and feelings ever become consistent? He’s all over the place!” bemoaned a third.

We all know people who live that way, and at one point or another we have probably all succumbed to such flightiness. It is here more than just an anxious personality, but proceeds from lacking any peace of mind within. We dismiss our friends, or cast aside our lovers, or make and break our promises with the changing of the wind. We have consumed everything we want here, so we move on to something new over there.

Nothing will ever be enough, since there can be no contentment in a soul that has refused to come to terms with itself.

Written in 5/2011

IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, The Wrath of Achilles (c. 1635)