We must assume, therefore, how many and what things are useful and pleasant. Concerning what is useful, therefore, or advantageous, we have already spoken in the discussion of things pertaining to counsel. Let us, therefore, now speak of what is delightful. But it is requisite to think that rhetorical definitions are sufficient, if, about the object which they define, they are neither obscure, nor accurate. Let it therefore be supposed by us, that pleasure is a certain motion of the soul, and a sudden and sensible disposition of the soul in a state conformable to nature; but that pain is the contrary. Hence, if pleasure is a thing of this kind, it is evident that the pleasant is that which is effective of the above-mentioned disposition. But that which is corruptive, or is effective of a contrary disposition, is painful. It necessarily follows, therefore, that it is pleasant to accede to that which is according to nature, as being that which has a frequency of subsistence, and especially when those things which take place according to nature, have assumed their own nature. Those things also are pleasant which are done from custom. For that to which we are accustomed becomes now as it were natural; since custom is something similar to nature. For that which is frequently is near to that which is always done. But nature pertains to that which always, and custom to that which frequently takes place. That likewise is pleasant which is not violent; for violence is preternatural. Hence, also, necessities are painful; and it is rightly said, Painful is every necessary work. Sedulity, likewise, study, and strenuous endeavour are painful; (for these things are necessary and violent) unless we are accustomed to them. But thus custom renders them pleasant. And the contraries to these are pleasant. Hence, indolence, cessation from labour, freedom from care, mirth, recreation and sleep, are in the number of pleasant things. For no one of these is attended with necessity. Every thing likewise which we desire is pleasant. For desire is the appetite of that which is pleasant. Of desires, however, some are irrational; but others are attended with reason. But I call those irrational through which we do not desire things because we are rationally of opinion that they are proper for us. And desires of this kind are such as are said to be inherent in us naturally, as are those which exist through the body; such for instance as the desire of food, thirst and hunger; and also the desire of every kind of food. This is likewise the case with the desires of gustable substances, of venereal pleasures, and in short of tangible objects, and of what pertains to the smell of fragrance, to the hearing and the sight. But the desires attended with reason, are such as are the result of persuasion. For men desire to behold and possess many things from report and persuasion. Since, however, the being delighted consists in the sensible perception of a certain passion; but the phantasy or imagination is a certain debile sense; and both to him who remembers and him who hopes, a certain imagination is consequent of that which he remembers or hopes;—if this be the case, it is evident that pleasures are present with those that have strong memories and hopes, since sensible perception is also present with them. Hence, it is necessary that all pleasant things must either consist in the sensible perception of what is present, or in the remembrance of what is past, or in the hope of what is future. For present things are the objects of sensible perception, but past things are remembered, and future events are the subjects of hope. Things, therefore, which are preserved in the memory are pleasant, not only such as were then delightful when they were present, but some also which were then not delightful, if afterwards they are attended with the beautiful and the good. Whence, also, it is said by Euripides, Tis pleasant when from danger free, To recollect past misery. And also by Eumœus in the Odyssey, Book 15. For he who much has suffer’d, much will know, And pleas’d remembrance builds delight in woe. But the cause of this is, that it is also delightful not to be in possession of evil. With respect however to such things as pertain to hope, those which when present appear greatly to delight or benefit, or at least to benefit without pain; and in short, such things as afford delight when present,—of these the hope and the remembrance are for the most part delectable. Hence, also, it is pleasant to be enraged; as Homer in Iliad, 18. says of anger. Far sweeter to the soul than honey to the taste. For no one is enraged with a circumstance which it appears impossible to revenge; nor are men at all enraged, or they are enraged in a less degree, with those that are far superior to them in power. A certain pleasure, likewise, is consequent to most desires. For men rejoice with a certain pleasure, either from remembring what they have obtained, or from the hope of what they may obtain. Thus for instance, those that in fevers are afflicted with thirst, are delighted with remembring how they have drank, and with the hope that they shall again drink. Those also who are in love, are always delighted with some circumstance pertaining to the beloved object, when they converse, or write, and in short, in all their actions. For in every thing of this kind, by recollection they fancy that they have a sensible perception as it were of the object of their love. The beginning itself, likewise, of love is produced in all persons, when they are not only delighted with the beloved object when present, but also with the recollection of it when absent. Hence, also, when they are afflicted from the absence of the object of their love, a certain pleasure is ingenerated in their grief and lamentation. For the pain which they feel arises from the beloved object not being present; but the pleasure from the remembrance and perception in a certain respect of this object, and of what he did, and what kind of a person he was. Hence, also, the poet says of Achilles in Iliad, 23. Thus having said, he rais’d in ev’ry one, An ardent wish his sorrows to bemoan. Revenge likewise is pleasant. For that of which the frustration is painful, the obtaining is pleasant. But those who are enraged, are pained in a transcendent degree, if they cannot take revenge; but they are delighted with the hope of vengeance. To conquer also is pleasant, not only to those who are lovers of victory, but to all men. For there is an imaginition of transcendency in vanquishing, of which all men possess the desire, either more or less ardently. Since, however, it is pleasant to conquer, those sports, also, must be delightful which relate to war, to playing on the pipe, and to verbal contests; for in these victory is frequently obtained. This is likewise the case with the games of dice, tennice, tables, &c. and in a similar manner with serious games. For some of these become pleasant from custom; but others are immediately pleasant, such for instance as every kind of hunting. For where there is contention, there also there is victory. Hence, the pleading of causes and contentious disputes, are pleasant to those that are accustomed to, and are able to engage in them. Honour, likewise, and reputation, are among the number of things most pleasant, because every one imagines that he is a man of this kind, and that he is a worthy person; and more so when others assert this of him, whom he considers as persons of veracity. Such are neighbours rather than those that live at a distance; friends, acquaintance, and fellow citizens, rather than foreigners; such as are now in being, rather than such as are yet to be born; the prudent rather than the imprudent; and the many rather than the few. For it is more likely that the above-mentioned persons should speak the truth, than those of a contrary description. For with respect to such things as a man very much despises, as children or wild beasts, no one pays any attention to the honour or opinion of these, for the sake of the opinion itself; but if he does it, it is for the sake of something else. A friend, likewise, is among the number of delightful things; for friendly love is delectable; since no one is a lover of wine who is not pleased with wine. To be beloved, also, is delightful. For this causes the person beloved to imagine that he is a good man, which is desired by all men that are endued with sense. But to be beloved is for a man to be dear to another person, himself on account of himself. To be admired also by others is pleasant, on account of being honoured, as the consequence of being admired. To be flattered, likewise, and the flatterer himself are pleasant; for a flatterer is an apparent admirer, and an apparent friend. To do the same things frequently, likewise, is delightful; for what is customary is pleasing. Change also is pleasing; for it is pleasant to return to a natural condition which is effected by mutation. For to remain always in the same state, too much increases habit and produces satiety. Whence it is said by Euripides in his Orestes, “Sweet is the change of all things.” For on this account things which are performed through intervals of time are pleasant; and the sight of our acquaintance is pleasing after some time has elapsed. For this is a mutation from the present time; and likewise that is rare which takes place through an interval of time. To learn, also, and to admire are for the most part delectable. For in admiration there is a desire of learning so that what is admirable is the object of desire. But in learning there is a transition into a condition according to nature. To benefit, likewise, and to be benefitted are among the number of things delectable. For to be benefitted is to obtain the objects of desire; but to benefit is to possess and transcend, both which are desireable. Because, however, it is pleasant to have the power of benefitting, hence, men are delighted in correcting the miscarriages of their neighbours, and in completing what is deficient. Since, also, to learn and to admire are delectable, those things must necessarily be pleasant which consist in imitation, such as painting, sculpture and poetry; and whatever is well imitated, though that of which it is the imitation should not be pleasing. For in this case, we are not delighted with the imitation, but with the reasoning by which we know what that is which is imitated; so that it happens that we learn something. A variety likewise of unexpected accidents, and narrow escapes from dangers are delectable; for all these are admirable. And because that which is according to nature is pleasant, but things which are allied are naturally conjoined with each other, hence all things that are allied and similar, are for the most part delightful; as man with man, horse with horse, and the young with the young. Hence, also, the proverb sameness of age is delighted with sameness of age; and, always like to like; and, beast knows beast; and, always the blackbird to the blackbird, and others of the like kind. Since, however, that which is similar and allied to any thing is delightful to it, but every man is especially thus affected towards himself, it necessarily follows that all men are lovers of themselves more or less; for such things as similitude and alliance are especially present with a man towards himself. But because all men are lovers of themselves, hence, those things which are their own, must necessarily be delightful to all men; such as their works, and their orations. Hence, for the most part they love their flatterers, and those that love them, they are ambitious, and love their children; for children are their own works. It is likewise pleasant to give completion to things which are deficient; for it now becomes our own work. And because it is most pleasant to govern, it is likewise delightful to seem to be wise. For to be wise is a thing of a ruling nature. But wisdom is the science of many and admirable things. Farther still, since men are for the most part ambitious, it necessarily follows that they are delighted to rule over and reprove their neighbours. It is likewise delectable to a man to be conversant with that in which he thinks he particularly excells; as Euripides also says, “To this he eagerly applies himself, bestowing the greatest part of every day upon it, in order that he may even surpass himself.” In like manner, because all recreation and relaxation is pleasant, and laughter also is among the number of things that are delectable, it necessarily follows that ridiculous things are pleasant, as well ridiculous men, as ridiculous speeches and works. Ridiculous things, however, are separately discussed by us in the treatise on Poetry. And thus much concerning things which are delectable. But things which are painful will be manifest from the contraries to these. Such, therefore, are the particulars for the sake of which men act unjustly.
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