Letter 58: On being
How scant of words our language is, nay, how poverty-stricken, I have not fully understood until today. We happened to be speaking of Plato, and a thousand subjects came up for discussion, which needed names and yet possessed none; and there were certain others which once possessed, but have since lost, their words because we were too nice about their use. But who can endure to be nice in the midst of poverty?
There is an insect, called by the Greeks oestrus, which drives cattle wild and scatters them all over their pasturing grounds; it used to be called asilus in our language, as you may believe on the authority of Vergil—
“Near Silarus groves, and eke Alburnus' shades
Of green-clad oak trees flits an insect, named
Asilus by the Romans; in the Greek
The terror-stricken herds throughout the woods.”
By which I infer that the word has gone out of use. And, not to keep you waiting too long, there were certain uncompounded words current, like cernere ferro inter se, as will be proved again by Vergil—
“Great heroes, born in various lands, had come
To settle matters mutually with the sword.”
This "settling matters" we now express by decernere. The plain word has become obsolete.
The ancients used to say iusso, instead of iussero, in conditional clauses. You need not take my word, but you may turn again to Vergil—
“The other soldiers shall conduct the fight
With me, where I shall bid."
How scant of words our language is, nay, how poverty-stricken, I have not fully understood until today. We happened to be speaking of Plato, and a thousand subjects came up for discussion, which needed names and yet possessed none; and there were certain others which once possessed, but have since lost, their words because we were too nice about their use. But who can endure to be nice in the midst of poverty?
There is an insect, called by the Greeks oestrus, which drives cattle wild and scatters them all over their pasturing grounds; it used to be called asilus in our language, as you may believe on the authority of Vergil—
“Near Silarus groves, and eke Alburnus' shades
Of green-clad oak trees flits an insect, named
Asilus by the Romans; in the Greek
The terror-stricken herds throughout the woods.”
By which I infer that the word has gone out of use. And, not to keep you waiting too long, there were certain uncompounded words current, like cernere ferro inter se, as will be proved again by Vergil—
“Great heroes, born in various lands, had come
To settle matters mutually with the sword.”
This "settling matters" we now express by decernere. The plain word has become obsolete.
The ancients used to say iusso, instead of iussero, in conditional clauses. You need not take my word, but you may turn again to Vergil—
“The other soldiers shall conduct the fight
With me, where I shall bid."
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 58
This is surely one of the most philosophically technical letters by Seneca, and while I myself appreciate such subtleties, I can understand why the everyday reader might feel discouraged. Isn’t this precisely the sort of nitpicking and sophistry the Stoic is supposed to avoid? What possible good can come from endlessly debating the minutiae of how we use certain words?
Distinguish. The details do matter, and we will only run into problems if we dwell upon such means at the expense of the proper end. I am interested in the nuances of words as a way to finally become a better man, and I thankfully have little interest in being a professional academic who likes to impress his colleagues with his cleverness.
Surely, we all know that feeling where we have a brilliant idea we wish to share, and yet we can’t find quite the right words to express ourselves properly? In such a case, working on the language is a tool for working on the comprehension, and the comprehension is, in turn, an opportunity to live with integrity and conviction.
Yes, I did immediately look up those terms Seneca discussed, and it took me quite a bit of time to make some sense of them, though I hardly think that time was wasted. Any exercise in the clarity of thought is a boon to working on daily problems, for a good habit prepares us for hardship, and there is no greater preparation for any circumstance than the honing of the mind.
No, I will not share those involved musings; when I am gone, you are welcome to rifle through my messy notes, if the topic truly interests you!
Instead, for the sake of these brief reflections, I choose to focus on the manner in which language is an aid for isolating distinctions, and why distinctions are so necessary for the good life.
When my son started speaking, he regularly ran into the frustration of being unable to get his intentions across. “Use your words, take your time!” his mother would tell him. That is sound advice.
In my own experience, I have noticed a peculiar tendency among intellectuals to believe that they have the right to forcibly modify speech in order to impose their demands. Needless to say, I am not a fan. Language does indeed evolve, but it should do so organically, and never within the limitations of the scientist’s laboratory. We lose our very humanity when we become tyrants about words and thoughts.
Vergil was not a great poet because he submitted to the whims of any fashions, just as Plato was not a great philosopher because he toed the party line. A man should have the chance to think for himself, and so also to speak for himself.
In order to do that well, however, he is obliged to think and to speak with clarity and precision. In what sense do you mean this? How broad or narrow is the definition? How does the particular instance relate to the universal meaning?
Words do indeed matter, in all their complexity and finesse, for they are a mirror of our souls—and souls are meant to embrace the truth by their own slow but steady discovery.
—Reflection written in 5/2013
IMAGE: Roman mosaic, Vergil with the Muses Clio and Melpomene (3rd century BC)
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