Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit. This beautiful Latin line was written by Virgil, put into the mouth of Aeneas – “some day, perhaps, remembering even this will be a pleasure” – in book I of Aeneid (trans. Fitzgerald, 1990). The pious hero and his fellow survivors have been shipwrecked after already watching their city, Troy, fall to ruins. So Aeneas, in an attempt to encourage his men (and perhaps himself, too), says a short, motivating speech.
“When pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.” Anne Elliot speaks these words in Chapter 20 of Jane Austen’s Persuasion. In conversation with Captain Wentworth, she reflects that her time and experience of the town of Lyme is a good one, not bad, despite the fact that “The last few hours [there] were certainly very painful.”
The sentiment in both these lines (Virgil’s and Austen’s) is clear enough, even if they are part of a larger context and can be dissected in minute, technical ways (especially Virgil’s). As food for thought, though, what they mean seems as obvious as it needs to be: The pain and turmoil of a present experience can become a source of pleasure when reflected on at a later time down the road.
This seems pretty much true. And it makes me wonder why I rarely find myself examining difficult past experiences and taking away a deep joy. I do plenty of reflecting on the past, but so little of it involves a recognition of having succeeded over certain obstacles. But without this part of the recollection there is great loss. Making it through a difficult time or painful event should involve a kind of pride or satisfaction upon later reflection. Not, of course, an inflated pride or one that produces an erroneous sense of one’s ability, but simply the feelings of empowerment at knowing you – your present self – was not defeated by the difficult times of the past and indeed are a stronger person for having gone through it. This is cause for joy.
Considering how we often expend so much energy trying to achieve a goal or push through a particularly downtrodden time, it’s surprising that the feelings of joy and pleasure upon accomplishment usually diminish quite quickly. Sometimes – and what’s almost haunting to think about – is that the whole experience, with all its rich complexities, disappears altogether, as if it never happened. The determination, the tears, the effort, the ingenuity and perseverance—all brushed off the map of our memory. In a sense, this makes our efforts meaningless. If our determined actions are not even remembered by our own selves, are not cherished and reflected upon, then it seems to devalue what we’ve done and gone through.
We should make more of a conscious effort to think about the travails of the past — and, along with it, be infused with a sense of joy about what those experiences were ultimately able to bring us.
Spectatio 