C. S. Lewis wrote:
“I begin to suspect that the world is divided not only into the happy and unhappy, but into those who like happiness and those who, odd as it seems, really don’t.”
Here is a short, rambling essay on the topic as it relates to The Great Divorce:
The first question as regards Lewis’ idea of loving or hating happiness is the personal: Do I know this insight true from internal, not external, observation? Do I find this within myself? The sad answer is an immediate yes. It is a perfect description of the internal, spiritual rebellion of which I must repent. But can it all be that simple? I would suggest an analogy: A single page outline of a book might itself be simple, and yet this imagined, simple outline would be an outline of something far more complex. Carrying the idea a step further, a book revolving around one specific theme might be described simply as a book about X theme. In such a case, the simple expression of said theme does not itself make the book or the theme simple any more than the simplicity of the three letter, monosyllabic word ‘sex’ make the subject of sex a simple one. So I find Lewis’ observation of those who hate happiness: In the long run, a fifty thousand foot view, if you will, God, being the source of happiness, when He is rejected, is rejected along with happiness; there is no happiness outside of Him. In a very literal sense, those who hate God hate happiness.
Let us take an early example from The Great Divorce. As the narrator rides to heaven, he finds himself in conversation with, what is revealed to be, the ghost of a man who committed suicide. Whatever this ghost’s true motivations were in life, the self-murderer’s description holds a flippant/calloused evaluation of his suicide. (And as an aside, I always hear the ghost’s admission as one meant to shock the narrator. This fits with the manipulative nature of the ghost’s character, one always grasping for others’ recognition and support. But that is only a subjective insight.) On a very literal level, keeping in mind that this character is somewhat flat, the ghost hates his life. However, what he wants cannot be separated from what he hates: Wanting certain parts of relationship, that is attention and admiration, he severs all possibility of obtaining them by killing himself. His motives were perverted, his actions did not further his ostensive goal. So, what was his true goal? Not happiness. He had fallen in love with his misery. Misery was his intended end.
As the book is littered with further examples, one need no more than turn the page in pursuit. However, jumping ahead a bit, I’d like to consider what may indeed be my second favorite[1] encounter between a damned ghost and a beatified spirit: The meeting of the philosophers. Here again the idea of means and ends is discussed: Is the ends of philosophy truth or is truth only a means to philosophy? The damned philosopher no longer seeks truth. In the end, he will no longer even seek happiness. A terrible trepidation is about him, and he prefers the freedom of not choosing, of staying forever from a final ultimate position. Happiness then cannot be his end, for he does all that he can to avoid ends.
And no, my favorite is not the suicide. I fear calling the scene with the philosophers my second favorite may imply that something I’ve already discussed is my favorite. Beyond that, I specify that this is a favorite of the scenes involving a damned and a heavenly denizen, something the suicide scene is not.
Tale Told 