Letter 59: On pleasure and joy
I received great pleasure from your letter; kindly allow me to use these words in their everyday meaning, without insisting upon their Stoic import. For we Stoics hold that pleasure is a vice. Very likely it is a vice; but we are accustomed to use the word when we wish to indicate a happy state of mind.
I am aware that if we test words by our formula, even pleasure is a thing of ill repute, and joy can be attained only by the wise. For "joy" is an elation of spirit—of a spirit which trusts in the goodness and truth of its own possessions.
The common usage, however, is that we derive great "joy" from a friend's position as consul, or from his marriage, or from the birth of his child; but these events, so far from being matters of joy, are more often the beginnings of sorrow to come. No, it is a characteristic of real joy that it never ceases, and never changes into its opposite.
Accordingly, when our Vergil speaks of
“The evil joys of the mind,”
his words are eloquent, but not strictly appropriate. For no "joy" can be evil. He has given the name "joy" to pleasures, and has thus expressed his meaning. For he has conveyed the idea that men take delight in their own evil.
Nevertheless, I was not wrong in saying that I received great "pleasure" from your letter; for although an ignorant man may derive "joy" if the cause be an honorable one, yet, since his emotion is wayward, and is likely soon to take another direction, I call it "pleasure"; for it is inspired by an opinion concerning a spurious good; it exceeds control and is carried to excess.
I received great pleasure from your letter; kindly allow me to use these words in their everyday meaning, without insisting upon their Stoic import. For we Stoics hold that pleasure is a vice. Very likely it is a vice; but we are accustomed to use the word when we wish to indicate a happy state of mind.
I am aware that if we test words by our formula, even pleasure is a thing of ill repute, and joy can be attained only by the wise. For "joy" is an elation of spirit—of a spirit which trusts in the goodness and truth of its own possessions.
The common usage, however, is that we derive great "joy" from a friend's position as consul, or from his marriage, or from the birth of his child; but these events, so far from being matters of joy, are more often the beginnings of sorrow to come. No, it is a characteristic of real joy that it never ceases, and never changes into its opposite.
Accordingly, when our Vergil speaks of
“The evil joys of the mind,”
his words are eloquent, but not strictly appropriate. For no "joy" can be evil. He has given the name "joy" to pleasures, and has thus expressed his meaning. For he has conveyed the idea that men take delight in their own evil.
Nevertheless, I was not wrong in saying that I received great "pleasure" from your letter; for although an ignorant man may derive "joy" if the cause be an honorable one, yet, since his emotion is wayward, and is likely soon to take another direction, I call it "pleasure"; for it is inspired by an opinion concerning a spurious good; it exceeds control and is carried to excess.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 59
The opening of this letter already offers me two helpful topics for reflection: the different ways we use words, and the different ways we seek out satisfaction. As is so often the case in philosophy, I will have to confront the former before I can resolve the latter.
It seems like such an obstacle when we employ varying definitions of words, and yet it is quite possible to carefully look behind the clashing signs to the shared reality of what is signified. “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. . . . “
However we might pronounce “tomato”, we still mean the same thing. And so, when we argue about the nature of “happiness”, and all the various terms we further employ in considering its definition, we are often struggling to identify something rather specific with regrettably vague labels. One philosopher says it is pleasure, and another claims it is a state of mind, and another insists it is an activity. We need to unravel how these diverging senses can or cannot overlap.
In everyday usage, for example, people will equate happiness with a sort of feeling, and are then hesitant to ask what kind of feeling it might be, or where it comes from, or whether the feeling is just part of a bigger picture. “I just want to have fun!” Oh dear, I have said that myself, and I would have avoided much grief by taking the time to know what I really intended.
Seneca’s observation is a wonderful case in point. We say something is a “pleasure” or a “joy”, sometimes interchangeably and sometimes with distinctions. Beyond the subtleties of a particular language like Latin, English, or Greek, I should further learn to translate, so to speak, between the peculiar usage of one person and another. I might use a different word, though I can appreciate how we are pointing in the same direction.
Philosophers, at least of the professional sort, do far too little of this, becoming obsessed with their own complex vocabularies, and they then make enemies of anyone who speaks differently than they do. Enough of this. I can’t show compassion for how a man feels if I won’t even tolerate how he expresses himself.
I take special care, therefore, when I read about Seneca’s contrast between “pleasure” and “joy”. Over the years, I have ended up making the exact same distinction, even as I understand why others employ varying standards.
Whatever the case, the fact remains that there is nevertheless a division between the mere sensitive gratification of pleasure and deeper moral fulfillment of joy. One scratches the itch, and the other cures us of the whole infection. Ignorance rushes in, and wisdom gets the lay of the land.
Look to quality here, not just to quantity. Pleasure can be associated with intemperate desire, and is therefore so readily selfish, while joy proceeds for the virtues of the whole person, and it is inseparable from what is good. Indeed, we can see why the Stoics might speak of pleasure in a markedly negative sense, and joy in an unconditionally positive sense.
However we use the words, I should remember why not all feelings, states of mind, or actions are alike, since they ultimately reflect greater or lesser degrees of character.
The opening of this letter already offers me two helpful topics for reflection: the different ways we use words, and the different ways we seek out satisfaction. As is so often the case in philosophy, I will have to confront the former before I can resolve the latter.
It seems like such an obstacle when we employ varying definitions of words, and yet it is quite possible to carefully look behind the clashing signs to the shared reality of what is signified. “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. . . . “
However we might pronounce “tomato”, we still mean the same thing. And so, when we argue about the nature of “happiness”, and all the various terms we further employ in considering its definition, we are often struggling to identify something rather specific with regrettably vague labels. One philosopher says it is pleasure, and another claims it is a state of mind, and another insists it is an activity. We need to unravel how these diverging senses can or cannot overlap.
In everyday usage, for example, people will equate happiness with a sort of feeling, and are then hesitant to ask what kind of feeling it might be, or where it comes from, or whether the feeling is just part of a bigger picture. “I just want to have fun!” Oh dear, I have said that myself, and I would have avoided much grief by taking the time to know what I really intended.
Seneca’s observation is a wonderful case in point. We say something is a “pleasure” or a “joy”, sometimes interchangeably and sometimes with distinctions. Beyond the subtleties of a particular language like Latin, English, or Greek, I should further learn to translate, so to speak, between the peculiar usage of one person and another. I might use a different word, though I can appreciate how we are pointing in the same direction.
Philosophers, at least of the professional sort, do far too little of this, becoming obsessed with their own complex vocabularies, and they then make enemies of anyone who speaks differently than they do. Enough of this. I can’t show compassion for how a man feels if I won’t even tolerate how he expresses himself.
I take special care, therefore, when I read about Seneca’s contrast between “pleasure” and “joy”. Over the years, I have ended up making the exact same distinction, even as I understand why others employ varying standards.
Whatever the case, the fact remains that there is nevertheless a division between the mere sensitive gratification of pleasure and deeper moral fulfillment of joy. One scratches the itch, and the other cures us of the whole infection. Ignorance rushes in, and wisdom gets the lay of the land.
Look to quality here, not just to quantity. Pleasure can be associated with intemperate desire, and is therefore so readily selfish, while joy proceeds for the virtues of the whole person, and it is inseparable from what is good. Indeed, we can see why the Stoics might speak of pleasure in a markedly negative sense, and joy in an unconditionally positive sense.
However we use the words, I should remember why not all feelings, states of mind, or actions are alike, since they ultimately reflect greater or lesser degrees of character.
—Reflection written in 6/2013
IMAGE: William Etty, Youth on the Prow, and Pleasure at the Helm (1832)
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