How to Be Content
Horace on the danger of chasing 'happiness'...
I once asked my grandmother a simple question which received a profound answer.
“What would you say was the biggest difference between the world of today, and that of your childhood?”, I ventured. Since she had grown up in the rural Yorkshire of the 1930’s, matured under one world war and outlived the ‘Cold’ one, while witnessing much of the arc of Europe’s decay, I was fascinated to hear what she would choose.
To my then surprise, I was entirely taken aback when she replied almost immediately, with no reference at all to either technology or geopolitics.
“People were more content”, she spoke, with a forthright confidence tempered by a distinct flash of melancholy in her eye that I have never forgotten. It was not really until this moment that I had ever properly considered the meaning of the word ‘content’, and the simple yet critical distinction that separates ‘being content’ from ‘being happy’.
Yet over two millennia ago, one of the favoured poets of the Emperor Augustus wrote an iconic satire on exactly this subject.
So what does it mean to ‘be content’, and what can Horace teach us about the forgotten art of ‘being content’, and achieving a fulfilling life?
Is the Faraway Grass Greener?
Content, adjective - Pleased with your situation and not hoping for change or improvement
Key to the difference between contentedness and happiness is time. We are made ‘happy’ or ‘sad’ by emotional stimuli that tend to be temporary. To be ‘content’, however, is by definition ‘long term’.
A miserable life can be punctuated by happy moments. A content life, however, maintains a positive baseline even in neutral gear. ‘Happy’ or ‘sad’ moments are merely deviations from a life already worth living. It is therefore important to distinguish between a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ day and a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ life. The challenge, of course, is that it is in our rawest nature to assume that we have been dealt the worst hand in life, especially when our judgement has been impaired by a bad day.
One could argue that this is ultimately the primary driver of human ambition, to aspire to a ‘better’ life. Horace indeed begins his Satire, in an address to his patron Maecenas, by aiming at precisely this:
“How come, Maecenas, no one alive’s ever content
With the lot he chose or the one fate threw in his way,
But praises those who pursue some alternative track?”
Horace, Satires, I.1
He proceeds to cite amusing yet timelessly relatable examples of men who wished they had a ‘better’ job:
“‘O fortunate tradesman!’ the ageing soldier cries
Body shattered by harsh service, bowed by the years.
The merchant however, ship tossed by a southern gale,
Says: ‘Soldiering’s better. And why? You charge and then:
It’s a quick death in a moment, or a joyful victory won’”
Horace, Satires, I.1
How many times do we find ourselves thinking ‘If only I had X, life would be better’?
A more common and contemporary incarnation of Horace’s merchant could be the man who looks with envy upon his peer who gets to ‘travel a lot’ with work. How splendid it must be, he understandably reasons, to escape stale rhythm and frequent distant lands, all on the company payroll?
His peer, however, may well return that envy, seeing that the promise of ‘travel for work’ failed to establish a fulfilling baseline to his work. He travels, yes, but has to wake up earlier, loses part of his weekend, and said ‘travel’ consists almost exclusively of the most unpleasant aspects of ‘travel’ — transit between airport and office and hours of waiting in stressful terminals — and finding that evenings are no respite from the working environment. How splendid it must be, he understandably reasons, to have a family home to return to each evening following a brief commute? I just want to relax!
So what if these men could suddenly switch lives? Horace asks that very question:
“Here’s what I’m getting at. If some god said: ‘Here I am!
Now I’ll perform whatever you wish: you be a merchant
Who but now was a soldier: you the lawyer become a farmer:
You change roles with him, he with you, and depart. Well!
What are you waiting for? They’d refuse, on the verge of bliss.
What in reason would stop Jove rightly swelling his cheeks
Then, in anger, and declaring that never again will he
Be so obliging as to attend to their prayers”
Horace, Satires, I.1
Few things indeed demean a man like complaining without correcting. Just how seriously have you considered the consequences, both intended and unintended, of that life you assume to be better than yours? If you would not accept in an instant the opportunity to take it, then that is the soul within you applying the brakes and warning you that you have not yet thought this through properly.
Turning your back on everything and chasing a new life could be the best thing you ever did. It could also be a disaster you will lament until the grave.
So how can we better judge what will bring us a contented life? As Horace declares, “joking aside, let’s turn to more serious thoughts”…
What Are We Working For?
Instead of allowing ourselves to be tempted by individual aspects of otherwise complex lifestyles, Horace advises greater introspection.
After all, how can we be sure that the life you covet is superior to the one you currently possess unless you are clear about what exactly it is you want to be working for?
“The farmer turning the heavy clay with sturdy plough,
The rascally shopkeeper, the soldier, the sailor
Who boldly sails the seas, all say they only do so
So as to retire in true idleness when they are old,
Having made a pile: just as their exemplar
The tiny labouring ant drags all she can together,
Adding what’s in her mouth to the heap she’s building,
Neither ignorant of nor careless of her tomorrow.”
Horace, Satires, I.1
There is perhaps no cliché more tired than ‘Money doesn’t buy happiness’. Not because it is not true, but primarily as we have abdicated genuine consideration of its meaning in favour of merely quoting the phrase. One man who did consider it, in extraordinary depth, was Aristotle, in a text we have previously explored at INVICTUS.
The insight of Horace, however, is no less relatable to the plight of modern man. As per his well-chosen metaphor, the man who is simply enduring a job, saving money in the hope of enjoying retirement, is no better than a worker ant. Arguably, however, it is worse. As humans, we are imbued with qualities which elevate us above the beasts, and forcing the life of an automaton upon the soul of a man is to force a square peg into a round hole.
If your job brings no joy beyond watching the savings rise in your bank account, you will never lead a content life, since the soul is fed yet going malnourished. Likewise, what good is placing your hopes in future happiness, if you endure a lifetime of ‘grind’ only to drop dead the day before your retirement? Is that really a gamble worth taking?
“Nothing deflects you from riches, not scorching heat, fire
Winter, sword or sea, while there’s a man richer than you.
Yet what good is all that mass of silver and gold to you,
If, fearful, you bury it secretly in some hole in the ground?
‘If I broke into it,’ you say, ‘ it would all be gone, to the last
Brass farthing.’ Yet if you don’t what’s the point of your pile?”
Horace, Satires, I.1
‘What is the point of your pile’ indeed? What are you actually saving for? If you know that the activity or possession you covet will improve your life, what is stopping you from claiming it now? Or more pressingly, if you do not possess it now, how can you be sure that it will improve your life at all?
The content man, after all, understands the most sincere sources of satisfaction are to be found in the everyday, not the rare occasion:
“Tell me then, what difference is there to the man
Who lives within Nature’s bounds, whether he ploughs a hundred
Acres or a thousand? ‘But it’s sweet to take from a big heap.’
Even so why praise your granaries more than our bins,
So long as we’re able to draw as much from the smaller?”
Horace, Satires, I.1
In order to be content, after all, we do not need anything like as much as we think. We spend exorbitantly in order to chase either thrill or peace. But thrill, as a temporary stimulation, by definition cannot be permanent. Peace however can, but can be achieved as readily in a comfortable chair in the garden or on a blanket in the park as on a distant beach.
What matters is that your source of peace is readily accessible in time and place, such that it can form a part of your daily life rather than an annual treat.
What Horace has to say next, however, is vital for identifying that peace. All it takes is two things….
