It is not in my purpose to show, by this array of examples, how much time I have wasted on the study of language; I merely wish you to understand how many words, that were current in the works of Ennius and Accius, have become moldy with age; while even in the case of Vergil, whose works are explored daily, some of his words have been filched away from us.
You will say, I suppose: "What is the purpose and meaning of this preamble?"
I shall not keep you in the dark; I desire, if possible, to say the word essentia to you and obtain a favorable hearing. If I cannot do this, I shall risk it even though it put you out of humor. I have Cicero, as authority for the use of this word, and I regard him as a powerful authority. If you desire testimony of a later date, I shall cite Fabianus, careful of speech, cultivated, and so polished in style that he will suit even our nice tastes.
For what can we do, my dear Lucilius? How otherwise can we find a word for that which the Greeks call οὐσία, something that is indispensable, something that is the natural substratum of everything? I beg you accordingly to allow me to use this word essentia. I shall nevertheless take pains to exercise the privilege, which you have granted me, with as sparing a hand as possible; perhaps I shall be content with the mere right.
Yet what good will your indulgence do me, if, lo and behold, I can in no wise express in Latin the meaning of the word which gave me the opportunity to rail at the poverty of our language? And you will condemn our narrow Roman limits even more, when you find out that there is a word of one syllable which I cannot translate.
"What is this?" you ask. It is the word ὄν. You think me lacking in facility; you believe that the word is ready to hand, that it might be translated by quod est. I notice, however, a great difference; you are forcing me to render a noun by a verb. But if I must do so, I shall render it by quod est.
There are six ways in which Plato expresses this idea, according to a friend of ours, a man of great learning, who mentioned the fact today. And I shall explain all of them to you, if I may first point out that there is something called genus and something called species.
You will say, I suppose: "What is the purpose and meaning of this preamble?"
I shall not keep you in the dark; I desire, if possible, to say the word essentia to you and obtain a favorable hearing. If I cannot do this, I shall risk it even though it put you out of humor. I have Cicero, as authority for the use of this word, and I regard him as a powerful authority. If you desire testimony of a later date, I shall cite Fabianus, careful of speech, cultivated, and so polished in style that he will suit even our nice tastes.
For what can we do, my dear Lucilius? How otherwise can we find a word for that which the Greeks call οὐσία, something that is indispensable, something that is the natural substratum of everything? I beg you accordingly to allow me to use this word essentia. I shall nevertheless take pains to exercise the privilege, which you have granted me, with as sparing a hand as possible; perhaps I shall be content with the mere right.
Yet what good will your indulgence do me, if, lo and behold, I can in no wise express in Latin the meaning of the word which gave me the opportunity to rail at the poverty of our language? And you will condemn our narrow Roman limits even more, when you find out that there is a word of one syllable which I cannot translate.
"What is this?" you ask. It is the word ὄν. You think me lacking in facility; you believe that the word is ready to hand, that it might be translated by quod est. I notice, however, a great difference; you are forcing me to render a noun by a verb. But if I must do so, I shall render it by quod est.
There are six ways in which Plato expresses this idea, according to a friend of ours, a man of great learning, who mentioned the fact today. And I shall explain all of them to you, if I may first point out that there is something called genus and something called species.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 58
Words can and do fade away, and while this is sometimes just a natural consequence of changing usage, at other times it may reveal that we have also lost hold of the very meanings behind them. If I choose not to think about it, I will also forget how to speak about it.
Within this context, a philosophical term can be quite the double-edged sword. On the one hand, it might appear so abstract and irrelevant to daily life, and on the other hand we still desperately need to address the meaning it seeks. Few things manage to turn people away from philosophy more than the grueling technicalities, and yet without a firm grasp of ideas there can never be a serenity of living.
In other words, I may not wish to slave over the best words for who or what I am, while reflecting upon my own identity remains an absolute requirement for my happiness. Is it possible to be a genuine philosopher without getting caught up in the academic posturing? There’s the rub.
I would suggest that the Stoics, as one movement within what I call a larger Wisdom Tradition, take up the noble challenge of joining sound reasoning to virtuous action. Yes, there will indeed be times when a problem requires intellectual precision, but it will always be intended to aid in the increase of character.
Take, for example, this very letter by Seneca. While the next few paragraphs focus on the nuances of how we can define different aspects of existence, it all eventually leads back to a lesson about learning to master ourselves in everyday circumstances. Indeed, what use would there be to study if it did not make us kinder and better human beings? It sounds so obvious when I say it now, but in the frenzy of false pride it is all too easy to divorce the theory from the practice.
In asking about the term essence, Seneca encourages us to get to the very root of our identity, the foundation of what is real. Without such first principles, however they might be expressed, we have nothing to build on, and so all our later judgments will lack a proper grounding. The conclusion proceeds from the premises, and the premises rely on the clarity of the terms.
Now Seneca introduces a number of concepts here all at once, and the difficulty is that their meanings can be rather specific, and they may change due to the context, and they are often used by different philosophers in markedly different ways. I will resist the temptation to treat this reflection like a formal paper or an involved class discussion, and simply point out that all of them are attempts at isolating the core of something’s being, the true nature of what it is.
When academics use οὐσία, they usually translate it as “substance”, or possibly as “essence”, and when they use ὄν they will usually translate it is “being” or “reality”. We might already find ourselves confused. Having been trained in Aristotle and Aquinas, I am inclined to distinguish between a substance, that which is in in itself and not in another, and the principles of essence, what the thing is, and its actual existence, that the thing is.
The language can get convoluted, and even after all the distinctions, we are still likely to find the words insufficient to get our ideas across. When Seneca proposes the Latin quod est, “what is” or “that which is”, as the closest approximation to what he is looking for, I am content to accept that he is aiming at the basic definition of how and why a thing exists.
Enough of that. Have you ever pondered, whether in a poetic or in a scientific way, what ultimately stands behind any of the “objects” in this world, and what makes them be the way they must be? That is, I believe, what Seneca is pursuing, and it is what any dedicated philosopher must eventually do if he is to be even slightly worthy of the name.
Seneca’s concern is, therefore, how six different senses of existence in Plato’s thought can help us to approach the nature of reality. Yes, it’s rather theoretical for the moment, but the result will also be an insight that can further help us to act with greater virtue. That promise has always been what keeps me going when philosophy feels too abstruse.
Words can and do fade away, and while this is sometimes just a natural consequence of changing usage, at other times it may reveal that we have also lost hold of the very meanings behind them. If I choose not to think about it, I will also forget how to speak about it.
Within this context, a philosophical term can be quite the double-edged sword. On the one hand, it might appear so abstract and irrelevant to daily life, and on the other hand we still desperately need to address the meaning it seeks. Few things manage to turn people away from philosophy more than the grueling technicalities, and yet without a firm grasp of ideas there can never be a serenity of living.
In other words, I may not wish to slave over the best words for who or what I am, while reflecting upon my own identity remains an absolute requirement for my happiness. Is it possible to be a genuine philosopher without getting caught up in the academic posturing? There’s the rub.
I would suggest that the Stoics, as one movement within what I call a larger Wisdom Tradition, take up the noble challenge of joining sound reasoning to virtuous action. Yes, there will indeed be times when a problem requires intellectual precision, but it will always be intended to aid in the increase of character.
Take, for example, this very letter by Seneca. While the next few paragraphs focus on the nuances of how we can define different aspects of existence, it all eventually leads back to a lesson about learning to master ourselves in everyday circumstances. Indeed, what use would there be to study if it did not make us kinder and better human beings? It sounds so obvious when I say it now, but in the frenzy of false pride it is all too easy to divorce the theory from the practice.
In asking about the term essence, Seneca encourages us to get to the very root of our identity, the foundation of what is real. Without such first principles, however they might be expressed, we have nothing to build on, and so all our later judgments will lack a proper grounding. The conclusion proceeds from the premises, and the premises rely on the clarity of the terms.
Now Seneca introduces a number of concepts here all at once, and the difficulty is that their meanings can be rather specific, and they may change due to the context, and they are often used by different philosophers in markedly different ways. I will resist the temptation to treat this reflection like a formal paper or an involved class discussion, and simply point out that all of them are attempts at isolating the core of something’s being, the true nature of what it is.
When academics use οὐσία, they usually translate it as “substance”, or possibly as “essence”, and when they use ὄν they will usually translate it is “being” or “reality”. We might already find ourselves confused. Having been trained in Aristotle and Aquinas, I am inclined to distinguish between a substance, that which is in in itself and not in another, and the principles of essence, what the thing is, and its actual existence, that the thing is.
The language can get convoluted, and even after all the distinctions, we are still likely to find the words insufficient to get our ideas across. When Seneca proposes the Latin quod est, “what is” or “that which is”, as the closest approximation to what he is looking for, I am content to accept that he is aiming at the basic definition of how and why a thing exists.
Enough of that. Have you ever pondered, whether in a poetic or in a scientific way, what ultimately stands behind any of the “objects” in this world, and what makes them be the way they must be? That is, I believe, what Seneca is pursuing, and it is what any dedicated philosopher must eventually do if he is to be even slightly worthy of the name.
Seneca’s concern is, therefore, how six different senses of existence in Plato’s thought can help us to approach the nature of reality. Yes, it’s rather theoretical for the moment, but the result will also be an insight that can further help us to act with greater virtue. That promise has always been what keeps me going when philosophy feels too abstruse.
—Reflection written in 5/2013
IMAGE: Raphael, detail of Plato and Aristotle from The School of Athens (1511)
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