{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39855/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39855","id":"gutenberg_39855","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39855","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Philosophy, Ancient"],"text":"Produced by Colin Bell, Turgut Dincer, Brett Fishburne and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n  THE TEACHING OF EPICTETUS:\n  BEING THE 'ENCHEIRIDION\n  OF EPICTETUS,' WITH SELECTIONS\n  FROM THE DISSERTATIONS'\n  AND 'FRAGMENTS.'\n\n\n  The name Epictetus is pronounced _ep''ik-ti'tus--e_ as in\n  _get_, first _i_ as in _habit_, second _i_ as in\n  _police_, _u_ as in _but_.\n\n\n  TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK,\n  WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, BY\n  T. W. ROLLESTON.\n\n  NEW YORK\n  HOME BOOK COMPANY,\n  45 VESEY STREET.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nBut for the zeal and ability of one disciple we should not now possess\nany trustworthy account of the teaching of Epictetus. For, like not a\nfew other sages, he wrote nothing--his teaching was purely oral,\ndelivered, in the form of lectures or discourses, to the students who\ncame to him to receive their education in philosophy. One of these\nstudents was Flavius Arrianus, afterwards Senator and Consul of Rome,\nnamed by Lucian \"one among the first of Roman men,\" and known to us\nchiefly as author of the best history of Alexander the Great which was\nproduced in antiquity. That history is still extant, but posterity owes\nArrian still more abundant thanks for the copious notes of the teaching\nof Epictetus which he took down from his master's lips in Nicopolis.\nThis record he afterwards published in eight books (whereof only four\nnow remain), entitled the _Dissertations of Epictetus_; and out of these\nhe drew the materials for compiling the little work, the _Encheiridion_,\nor Manual, of Epictetus, by which this philosopher has hitherto been\nmost generally known.[1]\n\nIt is clear that the _Dissertations_ were not regarded by Arrian as a\nsatisfactory representation of the teaching of his master; that he\npublished them, indeed, with much reluctance, and only when it appeared\nthat unless he did so, certain imperfect versions of his records would\nbe established as the sole sources of authoritative information about\nEpictetus. These circumstances are explained in a dedicatory letter to\nhis friend Lucius Gellius, prefixed to the edition of the\n_Dissertations_ which Arrian finally resolved to issue. I here translate\nthis document in full:--\n\n   \"Arrian to Lucius Gellius, hail.\n\n   \"I did not write [in literary form and composition,\n   [Greek: syngraphein]] the words of Epictetus in the\n   manner in which a man might write such things. Neither\n   have I put them forth among men, since, as I say, I did\n   not even write them. But whatever I heard him speak,\n   those things I endeavored to set down in his very words,\n   so to preserve to myself for future times a memorial of\n   his thought and unstudied speech. Naturally, therefore,\n   they are such things as one man might say to another on\n   the occasion of the moment, not such as he would put\n   together with the idea of finding readers long\n   afterwards. Such they are, and I know not how without my\n   will or knowledge they fell among men. But to me it is no\n   great matter if I shall appear unequal to composing such a\n   work, and to Epictetus none at all if any one shall\n   despise his discourse; for when he spoke it, it was\n   evident that he had but one aim--to stir the minds of his\n   hearers towards the best things. And if, indeed, the\n   words here written should do the same, then they will do,\n   I think, that which the words of sages ought to do. But\n   if not, yet let those who read them know this, that when\n   he himself spoke them, it was impossible for the hearer\n   to avoid feeling whatever Epictetus desired he should\n   feel. But if his words, when they are merely words, have\n   not this effect, perhaps it is that I am in fault,\n   perhaps it could not have been otherwise. Farewell!\"\n\nThe style of the _Dissertations_, as they have reached us, answers very\nwell to the above account of their origin and purpose. They contain much\nthat the world should be as little willing to neglect as anything that\nGreek philosophy has left us; but they contain also many repetitions,\nredundancies, incoherencies; and are absolutely devoid of any sort of\norder or system in their arrangement. Each chapter has generally\nsomething of a central theme, but beyond this all is chaos. The same\ntheme will be dwelt on again and again in almost the same phrases;\nutterances of majestic wisdom are imbedded in pages of tedious argument,\nand any grouping of the chapters according to a progressive sequence of\nideas will be looked for in vain.\n\nUnder these conditions it was evident that the teaching of Epictetus\ncould never win half the influence which its essential qualities fitted\nit to exercise. And accordingly, as another and better vehicle for this\ninfluence, Arrian compiled and condensed from the _Dissertations_ the\nsmall handbook of the Stoic philosophy known as the _Encheiridion of\nEpictetus_. This little work has made Epictetus known to very many whom\nthe _Dissertations_ would never have reached. It had the\ndistinction--unparalleled in the case of any other Pagan writing, if we\nexcept the doubtful _Sententiae_ of Xystus--of being adopted as a\nreligious work in the early Christian Church. Two paraphrases of\nit--still extant--one of which was specially designed for the use of\nmonastic bodies, were produced about the sixth century A. D., in which\nvery few changes were made in the text, beyond the alteration of Pagan\nnames and allusions to Scriptural ones.\n\nAbout the same time it was made the subject of an elaborate and lengthy\ncommentary by a Pagan writer, Simplicius, wherein chapter after chapter\nis dissected, discussed, and explained. It was elegantly rendered into\nLatin by the well-known scholar of the Renaissance, Angelo Politian, who\ndedicated his translation to Lorenzo de' Medici. Down to the present\nday, as numerous translations testify, it has remained the most usual\nmeans of access to the thought of Epictetus.\n\nBut inestimable as the _Encheiridion_ is, he who knows it alone has\ngained nothing like all that Epictetus has to give. It is a compendium;\nand although much more stirring and forcible than is usual with such\nworks, it cannot give us the wealth of interesting allusion, reflection,\nhumor, the bursts of eloquence, the abrupt and biting style, the vivid\nrevelations of personal feeling, which marked the teaching of Epictetus\nin the form in which he delivered it. It seems, therefore, that to make\nhim as accessible as he can be to those for whom such things have any\nvalue or interest, it were necessary to produce from the _Encheiridion_\nand the _Dissertations_ a third work, which should have the advantages\nof each. This is what I have endeavored to do in the present work. In it\nthe whole of the _Encheiridion_ is given, and the divisions of\nsubject-matter into which the _Encheiridion_ falls have been observed by\nthe division of my translation into five Books, corresponding with the\nnatural divisions of the _Encheiridion_--Book I., treating of the first\nprinciples of the Stoic philosophy; Book II., dealing with the general\napplication of these principles to life; Book III., with man's relations\nto his fellow-man; Book IV., with his relations to God; Book V.,\ncontaining, besides a couple of concluding chapters, chiefly practical\ncounsels of behavior on various particular occasions, and _obiter dicta_\non the use of the faculties. Such is the scheme of arrangement suggested\nby the _Encheiridion_; and I have filled it in by setting among the\nchapters of the _Encheiridion_ chapters or passages from the\n_Dissertations_, selected for their relevancy to the matter in hand. In\nfact, I have reversed the process by which the _Encheiridion_ came into\nbeing. It was condensed out of the _Dissertations_: I have expanded it\nagain by drawing into it a large quantity of material from the original\nwork, and subjecting the new matter thus gained to the system and order\nof sequence which I found to prevail in the _Encheiridion_. The passages\nor chapters taken from the _Dissertations_ are those which seemed to me\nmost characteristic of the philosophy or the personality of Epictetus,\nand I have made it my aim to omit nothing which is essential to a full\nand clear understanding of the message he had to deliver to his\ngeneration. Of course there is plenty of room for differences of opinion\nas to the manner in which this conception has been here carried out; but\nI hope that the present attempt may do something to win a larger\naudience for his teaching than former editions could, in the nature of\nthe case, obtain. If this hope should prove to be well founded, I shall\nexpect, some day, to give the present English version a counterpart in a\nGreek text arranged on the same lines.\n\nI may add here that the reader will find an Index at the end of this\nvolume, in which every paragraph is referred to its original source in\nthe _Dissertations_, _Encheiridion_, or _Fragments_--the references\napplying to Schweighaeuser's standard edition of Epictetus.[2]\n\nAs regards the style of my translation, I hope the tinge of archaism I\nhave given it will be felt to suit the matter. I could think of no idiom\nso varied, so flexible even down to its use of various grammatical\nforms, so well suited alike to colloquy, or argument, or satire, or\nimpassioned eloquence, as Elizabethan English.\n\nSo much to make the plan of the present work understood; and the reader\nmay perhaps wish that I would now leave him to the study of it. But\nthere is much in Epictetus the significance of which will not appear to\nany one who is unacquainted with the general system of Stoic philosophy\nwhich formed the basis of Epictetus's ethical teaching. And I hope that\nthe reader will prefer to have such information as is necessary given\nhim in the form of a general introduction rather than in that of a\nmultitude of notes.\n\nThe founder of the Stoic philosophy was Zeno, a native of Cyprus, who\ntaught in Athens, about 300 B. C., in that frescoed arcade, or Stoa,\nwhich gave its name to his school. His birthplace is worth noting, for\nZeno lived at the beginning of that epoch, himself one of the first\nproducts of it, in which the influence of the East became strongly\napparent in Greek thought; the period called Hellenistic in\ncontradistinction to the purely Hellenic period which ended in the\nconquests of the Macedonians. In many ways the conditions of life in the\nHellenistic period formed the most favorable _milieu_ possible for the\ndevelopment of Greek thought upon the only lines which, after Aristotle,\nit could fruitfully pursue; and this not in spite of, but even because\nof, the great degradation of political and social life from which all\nHellendom then suffered. What the democratic polities were like, on\nwhich was laid the problem of confronting Philip of Macedon, we may\nconjecture from the history of the best known and assuredly not the\nworst of them, Athens. And the best type of Athenian whose rise to power\nwas favored by the conditions of this time and place was Demosthenes:\nDemosthenes, the grand historical warning to all peoples against\ncommitting their destinies to professional orators; the statesman whose\ndoubtless real veneration for his country and her past served only to\nmake him a more mischievous counselor in her present difficulties; whose\nsplendid power as a wielder of words was scarcely more signal than his\nincapacity and cowardice when he was called upon to match those words\nwith deeds. Athens, entangling the Thebans in an alliance against\nMacedon, and then leaving them to face Alexander alone; deifying\nDemetrius the Besieger for driving out a Macedonian garrison, and\nallotting him the Parthenon itself to be his lodging and the scene of\nhis unspeakable profligacies; murdering Phocion, the one man who dared\nto bring sincerity and virtue to her service--Athens was a type of the\nGreek States of this epoch: too unprincipled for democratic government,\ntoo contentious for despotism, too vain to submit to foreign rule, too\nlacking in valor, purpose, union, to resist it with effect.\n\nWhatever the causes of the change may have been, the conditions of\npublic life in this Hellenistic period were certainly very different\nfrom those which prevailed, albeit with decadence, before that vast\nbreaking up of boundaries and destruction of political systems involved\nin the Macedonian conquests. The successful and inspiring conflict with\nPersia waged by the Hellenic States had for a time made all Greek hearts\nto beat with one aspiration, and had brought to the front a race of\nleaders who were capable of subduing the Greek democracies to their own\nsteadfast and statesmanlike purposes. Public life was then not only a\npossible but even the most natural career for a man of talent and\nprobity. The small size of the Greek States gave almost every such man\nan opportunity of action, and so keen and universal was the interest in\npolitics that it threatened to lead Greek philosophy into a region in\nwhich philosophy is very apt to lose its vitalizing connection with\nhuman consciousness and experience, and to stiffen into barren\nspeculation. In a word, man, as an individual, began to be too much lost\nsight of in the consideration of man as a citizen; his uses, his duties,\nthe whole worth and significance of his life, came to be estimated too\nexclusively by his relations to the visible society about him. It was\nwhen the great Stoic Chrysippus found himself obliged to stand aloof\nfrom all participation in politics--\"For if I counsel honorably I shall\noffend the citizens, and if basely, the Gods\"--that such men as he were\nled to ask themselves: Is there then any sphere of human endeavor out of\nthe reach of the tyranny of circumstance? If I cannot be a citizen, what\nam I worth then simply as a man? If I can be nothing to my fellows, what\ncan I be to God? To a state of things, then, which, speaking broadly,\nmade public life impossible to honest men, we owe the noblest ethical\nsystem of antiquity; to the enforced concentration of thought upon the\nindividual we owe a certain note of universality till then absent from\nHellenic thought.\n\nBut stoicism was not the only product of the speculation of this period.\nSide by side with it there started into being two other systems of\nphilosophy, the necessity for combating which was doubtless of immense\nservice to its development. These were Epicureanism and Pyrrhonism; and\nas the reader will find Epictetus much concerned with each of them, it\nmay be desirable that I should give some brief account of their cardinal\ndoctrines.\n\nEpicurus was an Athenian. After some residence in Lesbos and Lampsacus,\nhe began to teach in his native city about the year 306 B. C. His ethical\nviews, which are all that concern us here, were of a distinctly\nunelevating nature. Pleasure, [Greek: hedone], was pronounced to be for\neach man the end and aim of his being, and the only rational motive of\naction. This, however, was not the pleasure of the voluptuary--its\nhighest forms, according to Epicurus, were gained in [Greek: ataraxia]\nand [Greek: aponia]--that is, a cheerful and unanxious temperament, with\nleisure for contemplation, ends not attainable by the criminal who lives\nin constant fear of detection, or the luxurious liver in whom satiety\nproduces disgust and weariness.\n\nCertain bodily conditions were, however, regarded as objects in\nthemselves, and partaking of the nature of the absolutely good; and all\nentanglement in human relationships was discountenanced for the\ndisturbance and distress which such relationships were liable to cause.\nThese doctrines were put in practice by their teacher in inuring himself\nto a hermit-like simplicity and abstemiousness of life; and his life was\nphilosophically consistent with his doctrines, for it is clear that the\nend of Pleasure will be most surely gained by him who has fewest wants\nto gratify. But though the lives of Epicurus and his immediate followers\nwere exceptionally sober and strict, the total effect of his doctrine\ncould not but have been evil. They were purely egoistic in this\ntendency--they centered each man's activity and interest upon himself\nalone, they bade him take no thought for any other earthly or heavenly\nthing, and taught him that this ideal of indifference was realized in\nits full perfection by the Gods, who dwelt apart in divine repose while\nblind necessity had its way with human destiny.\n\nPyrrho of Elis, a rather earlier teacher than Zeno or Epicurus, who\nis said to have studied philosophy under Indian Gymnosophists and\nChaldean Magi, was the originator in European thought of a great and\npermanent philosophic movement. His school was inspired by the _Geist\nder stets verneint_, and the term Skeptic was first devised to describe\nits attitude. Its strength is in a discovery which inevitably takes\nplace when men begin to reflect upon their own mental operations--the\ndiscovery, namely, that, given a perceiving mind and a perceived object,\nit is always possible for the former, if it has the power of\nintrospection, to doubt whether it has received a really true and\nfaithful impression of the latter. How can we be assured that external\nobjects are as we perceive them? How can we even be assured that there\nis any principle of constancy in their relations to our consciousness?\nThe senses often delude us; we are convinced, in dreams, of the reality\nof appearances which, nevertheless, have no reality---why may not all\nperception be a delusion? Why may not even our sense of the validity of\ninference and of the truth of the axioms of geometry be a pure\nhallucination? With these searching questions the Skeptic cut at the\nroot of all belief, and the problems which they raise have dominated\nphilosophy down to the present day. Nor in two thousand years has any\nlogical answer to them ever been found. Lotze, the last thinker of\nreally first-rate powers that the world has seen, practically abandons\nall inquiry into theories of perception, and starts with the\n_assumption_ that we are living in a kosmos, not a chaos; that the\norder, coherence, reason in things to which consciousness testifies, are\nrealities. In antiquity, I may add, the profound problems raised by\nPyrrhonism do not seem to have been very profoundly apprehended either\nby the Pyrrhonists or their opponents. The latter had nothing better to\nappeal to than that notoriously feeble resource, the _argumentum ad\nhominem_. If the Pyrrhonist distrusted the evidence of his senses, they\nasked, why did he avoid walking over precipices or into the sea, or eat\nbread instead of earth, or in any way make choice of means for ends? The\nPyrrhonist's answer was equally superficial. It anticipated the famous\nformula of Bishop Butler. Probability, argued they, was the guide of\nlife--having observed certain results to follow from certain\nantecedents, the prudent man will shape his course in life accordingly,\nalthough, as a matter of theory and speculation, he may refuse to\nbelieve in the constancy of nature. This answer involves a clear\ninconsistency. It involves even a greater assumption than that which the\nPyrrhonist refused to make as to the credibility of his perceptions--the\nassumption of the credibility of his recollections. To the\nthorough-going Skeptic there is no such thing as past experience--he is,\nas it were, new-born at each instant of his life.\n\nSuch, in outline, were the systems against which the Stoic philosophy\nhad to make good its position in the ancient world. From the first there\nseems to have been no doubt of its ability to do so, although,\nunhappily, the records which have been preserved of the teaching of its\nearliest days are few and obscure. The writings of Zeno, the founder of\nStoicism, and of Chrysippus, his immediate successor in the leadership\nof the school, have utterly perished, while of Cleanthes, the third of\nthe early Stoic teachers, very little remains beyond the profound and\nmajestic Hymn to Zeus, of which I have given a translation in this work.\nThe complete loss of the hundreds of treatises produced by Chrysippus is\nespecially to be regretted, as he appears to have taken the main part in\ngiving shape and system to the Stoic philosophy. \"Had Chrysippus not\nbeen, the Stoa had not been,\" was a proverbial saying which testifies to\nhis fame. However, from the accounts of ancient philosophers in Diogenes\nLaeertius, from Plutarch, Seneca, Cicero, and a few other authorities, we\ncan learn pretty clearly what the framework of the Stoic system had\ngrown to be long before Epictetus began to study it.\n\nIn antiquity, a philosophic system was expected to have something to\nsay for itself on three different branches of study--Logic, Physics\n(which included cosmogony and theology), and Ethics. We think of the\nStoics chiefly in connection with the last-named of these subjects, but\nthey were no less eminent in the others, and Chrysippus, in particular,\nwas held to have done so much for the science of logic that a saying was\ncurrent--\"If there were dialectic among the Gods, it must be the\ndialectic of Chrysippus.\" Of the Stoic contributions to this science,\nscarcely any record remains.\n\nOf their physical system, however, much is known, and the reader of\nEpictetus needs to be acquainted with its general features. These were\nborrowed from an earlier thinker, Heracleitus, whose central doctrine\nwas that the universe was an eternal flux and transition; everything was\nin a state of becoming, _ein Werdendes_. At the beginning of things, so\nfar as they can be said to have any beginning, is the Deity in his\npurest manifestation, which, be it observed, is a strictly material one,\na sublimated and ethereal fire, [Greek: aitherodes pyr]. In this fire\ndwelt the divine creative thought and impulse. The first step in that\nprocess of differentiation in which development consists is the\nproduction of vapor, which condensed into water. Two elementary forces\nplay their part in these operations--a movement towards within, and a\nmovement towards without, the one a densifying, the other an expanding\nand straining force ([Greek: tonos]). The former gives us solidity in\nmatter, the other the qualities and energies of matter. Thus, by various\ndegrees of density, we get earth, water, atmospheric air, and from air,\nthe common element of earthly fire; and these elements in their various\ncombinations, with their various attributes and powers, gradually\nproduce the successive stages of organic life. Though all these proceed\nfrom the substance of the Divine Being, the Stoics recognized, in the\nderived substance which make up the universe as we have it now, various\ndegrees of purity, of affinity to their original source. Man's body, for\ninstance, with its passions and affections, lies comparatively far from\nthe divine; but his soul is a veritable ray of the primitive fire, _Deus\nin corpore humano hospitans_. The popular mythology of the day was\nentirely rejected by the Stoics, although, as Professor Mahaffy points\nout, they never attempted to \"discredit orthodoxy,\" but, on the\ncontrary, used its myths and ceremonies with the utmost reverence as\nvehicles of profound religious truths. But they certainly believed in\nintelligences above man, yet below the one Supreme Being; thus the stars\nand the lightning (the reader will observe the allusions in the Hymn of\nCleanthes) are in some sense divinities, by virtue of the supposed\npurity of their fiery essence.\n\nThus from the one primitive divine element the Kosmos, with all its\nhierarchy of being, is evolved. But in the Stoic system [Greek: panta\nrhei],[3] there is no continuance in any one condition. As in the normal\nlife of all earthly creatures there comes a certain climax or turning\npoint, after which the forces of decay gain slowly but surely on those\nof growth and resistance, so also runs the history of the universe which\nincludes them all. One by one the steps by which it was formed shall be\nretraced, and the derived substances which compose it consumed and\nre-absorbed by that from which they sprang. From matter in its grossest\nform to its purest, from earth and stone and water to the highest\nintelligence in men and daemons and Gods, nothing shall escape this doom\nof dissolution; everything shall yield up its separate existence, until\nat last the indestructible element of that primeval fire is again the\nsole being that remains, and Zeus is \"alone in the conflagration,\"\nself-contemplating in the solitudes of thought. But this is not the end.\nThere is no end. The plastic impulse again resumes its sway, and soon\nanother cycle of world-development and world-destruction begins to run\nits course. In the language of Seneca, \"When that fatal day, that\nnecessity of the times, shall have arrived, and it seems good to God to\nmake an end of old things and ordain the better, then shall the ancient\norder be revoked and every creature be generated anew, and a race\nignorant of guilt be given to the earth.\"\n\nThis was the general physical system on which all Stoics were agreed,\nalthough there were differences of opinion upon minor points; such as\nhow far these successive cycles resembled each other? some asserting\nthat they did so in the minutest detail, others only in their larger\nfeatures. It was a system, for all its superstitions, not without\ngrandeur and truth. At bottom it expressed a sense of that phenomenon of\nebb and flow, systole and diastole, the action and counteraction of\nbalanced forces, which is perhaps the profoundest law of life.\n\nTwo questions arise in connection with the Stoic cosmogony, which we\nmust briefly discuss before proceeding farther. Are we justified in\nterming their view of the universe a materialistic one? and what was\ntheir doctrine of the destinies of the human soul? Now it is certainly\nthe usual practice among writers on philosophy to reckon the Stoics as\nmaterialists, and it is unquestionably true that they denied the\npossibility of any existence which was not corporeal. Strong as they are\non the supremacy of the human soul over the human body, sharp as is the\nline with which they divide these elements, yet the distinction is a\nmoral, not a metaphysical one--each is an actual material substance. But\nwe shall be seriously mistaken, nevertheless, if we place them in the\nsame class with the scientific materialists of the present day.\nAccording to the latter, Thought is no necessary moment in the universe,\nbut merely a product of certain accidental combinations of matter, a\nproduct which, when these are dissolved, must disappear from existence,\nwithout leaving a trace of its presence behind. Again, according to most\nmodern opponents of the materialistic view, Thought has an independent\nand immortal being--it existed before matter was, and would continue to\nexist if all matter were annihilated. The Stoic view differed from each\nof these modern theories. It held Thought and Matter to be eternal,\ninseparable, and, indeed, strictly identical. Being in its primitive and\npurest form was fire, a corporeal substance, but one exhibiting\nconsciousness, purpose, will.\n\nAs to the question of the Stoic view of the immortality of the human\nsoul, it does not seem to me to deserve so much discussion as it has\nreceived from some commentators. It is obvious that the soul must, in\nthe end, share the lot of all other existences, and be resolved into the\nDivine Being which was its source. The only question that can arise is\nwhether this resolution takes place at the moment of death, or whether\nthe sense of personal identity persists for a certain period beyond that\nevent; and this question, which Epictetus appears to have been wise\nenough to leave an open one, is philosophically of very little\nimportance. The soul is immortal, the individual perishes; this is the\nconclusion of Stoicism, and if we know this, there is little else it can\nmuch concern us to know.\n\nThe reader who desires to gain a thorough knowledge of Hellenistic\nphilosophy, and of the social and political conditions in which it\nthrove, will find what he seeks in two works to which I have to express\nmy large indebtedness. One is Zeller's _Philosophie der Griechen_\n(_Epikureer_, _Stoiker u. Skeptiker_),[4] a monument of German research\nand erudition, in which vast masses of original material for the study\nof this most interesting, but neglected, epoch of the development of\nEuropean intellect have been brought together, and interpreted with more\nthan German lucidity and method. The other is Professor Mahaffy's recent\nvolume, _Greek Life and Thought_, a study of the Hellenistic period in\nvarious aspects, which the scholar will not read without profit, nor the\nlay-reader without pleasure.\n\nWe turn now to that department of the Stoic philosophy with which the\nreader of Epictetus is most concerned--its Ethics.\n\nThe ethical question resolves itself into a search for the supreme\nobject of human endeavor, the _Summum Bonum_, the absolute and essential\ngood. This, for the Stoic, embodied itself in the formula, \"to live\naccording to Nature.\" But what is Nature? The will of God, as revealed\nin the heart and conscience of those who seek to know it, and\ninterpreted through the observation in a reverent and faithful spirit of\nthe facts of life.\n\nGoing into the subject more precisely we find certain criteria of moral\ntruth established, [Greek: prolepseis], as they were called, that is,\nprimitive, original conceptions, or, as I have rendered them in my\ntranslation, \"natural conceptions,\" dogmas by which all moral questions\ncan be tried. If we inquire into the source of these [Greek:\nprolepseis], we shall find ourselves mistaken in our disposition to\nthink that the Stoics regarded them as innate ideas. Innate they are\nnot, for the Stoics held the soul at birth to be a _tabula rasa_, or\nblank page, which only experience could fill with character and meaning.\nBut as Seneca says in his inquiry, \"Quomodo ad nos prima boni honestique\nnotitia pervenerit,\"[5] although Nature alone could not teach us these\nthings, could not equip us with the knowledge of them before we entered\nupon life, yet the \"seeds\" of this knowledge she does give us; the soul\nof every man has implanted in it a certain aptness or, indeed, necessity\nto deduce certain universal truths from such observation and experience\nas are common to all mankind; and these truths, the [Greek: prolepseis],\nthough not strictly innate, have thus an inevitableness and dogmatic\nforce not possessed by those which one man may reach and another miss in\nthe exercise of the ordinary faculties, by argument, study, and so\nforth. By these natural conceptions the existence and character of God,\nand the general decrees of the moral law, are considered to be affirmed.\nIf we inquire further how the Stoic explained the fact that some of\nthese so-called inevitable and universal conclusions are denied in all\nsincerity by men like Epicurus, who were neither bad nor mad, we strike\nupon the difficulty which confronts all systems that aim at setting up\nany absolute body of truth, expressible in human language, in place of\nthat partial, progressive, and infinitely varied revelation of God's\nmind and purpose to which the uncolored facts of the world's religious\nhistory seem to testify.\n\nThe natural conceptions, as I have said, contain the primary doctrines\nof ethics. None of these are more important for the Stoic than that\nwhich declares essential Good to lie in the active, not the passive side\nof man; in the will, not in the flesh, nor in anything else which the\nwill is unable to control. But a certain relative and conditional\ngoodness may lie in matters which are yet of no moment to the spiritual\nman, to that part of him which seeks the essential good. And we must\nnote that when Epictetus speaks of certain things as good or bad or\nindifferent, he is generally speaking of them in their relation to the\nspiritual man, and in the most absolute and unconditional sense. No evil\ncan happen to the essential part of man, to that side of him which is\nrelated to the eternal and divine, without his own will. Hence the death\nof a beloved friend, or child, or wife, is no evil; and if it be no\nevil, we are forbidden to grieve for it, or, in the most usual phrase\nwith Epictetus, we are not to be troubled or confounded by it, [Greek:\ntarassesthai]. But if this utterance should shock our natural feelings,\nit will do something which assuredly Epictetus never meant it to do. It\nis the soul of man which these events cannot injure, and it is the soul\nwhich is forbidden to think itself injured by them. Such love of the\nindividual as may be embraced in the larger love of the All, of\nGod--such grief for bereavements and calamities as does not overwhelm\nthe inner man (ii. 19) in a \"wave of mortal tumult,\" and dull his vital\nsense of the great moral ends which he was born to pursue, is repeatedly\nand explicitly admitted by Epictetus. Thus, in iii. 2, we have him\narguing against Epicurus that there are certain natural sympathies\nbetween man and his kind, and even convicting Epicurus himself of a\nsecret belief in these sympathies. Epicurus had dissuaded his followers\nfrom marriage, and the bringing-up of children, on account of the grief\nand anxiety which such relations necessarily entail. Not so the\nStoics--they pressed their disciples to enter into the ordinary earthly\nrelationships of husband, or wife, or citizen, and this without\npretending to have found any means of averting the natural consequences\nwhich Epicurus dreaded, although they did profess to have discovered\nsomething in man which made him equal to the endurance of them. Again,\nalthough the condition of [Greek: apatheia], of inward peace, of\nfreedom from passions, is again and again represented by Epictetus as\nthe mark of the perfect sage, we are told that this [Greek: apatheia]\nis something quite different from \"apathy\"--a man is not to be\nemotionless \"like a statue.\" And a third passage confirming this view is\nto be found in Book I., ch. xi. (Schweighaeuser), where the conduct of a\nman who was so afflicted by the illness of his little daughter that he\nran away from the house, and would hear news of her only through\nmessages, is condemned, not for the affection and anxiety it proved, but\nfor its utter unreasonableness. \"Would you,\" asks Epictetus, \"have her\nmother and her nurse and her pedagogue, who all love her too, also run\naway from her, and leave her to die in the hands of persons who neither\nlove nor care for her at all?\" There is a grief which is really a\nself-indulgence, a barren, absorbing, paralyzing grief, which, to the\nsoul possessed by it, makes every other thing in heaven and earth seem\nstrange and cold and trivial. From such grief alone Epictetus would\ndeliver us, and I think he would have accepted Mr. Aubrey de Vere's\nnoble sonnet on _Sorrow_ as a thoroughly fit poetic statement of Stoic\ndoctrine on this subject:--\n\n  \"Count each affliction, whether light or grave,\n  God's messenger sent down to thee; do thou\n  With courtesy receive him; rise and bow;\n  And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave\n  Permission first his heavenly feet to lave;\n  Then lay before him all thou hast, allow\n  No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow,\n  Or mar thy hospitality; no wave\n  Of mortal tumult to obliterate\n  The soul's marmoreal calmness: Grief should be\n  Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate,\n  Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free,\n  Strong to consume small troubles; to commend\n  Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end.\"\n\nBut the grief that shall do this is a grief that must be _felt_. And\nEpictetus assuredly never meant to offer the Stoic philosophy as a mere\nstupefying anodyne. Make the man a Stoic, and something yet remains to\ndo--to make the Stoic a man. One of these purposes was not more the\nconcern of Epictetus than the other. And he pursued both of them with a\nstrength, sincerity, and sanity of thought, with a power of nourishing\nthe heroic fiber in humanity, which, to my mind, make him the very chief\nof Pagan moralists.\n\nIt is no purpose of mine to fill this preface with information which the\nreader can gain without doubt or difficulty from the author whom it\nintroduces, and therefore I shall leave him to discover for himself what\nthe positive ethical teaching of Epictetus was like. Nor is it,\nunhappily, possible to say much upon another subject on which Epictetus\ngives us little or no information--his own life and circumstances.\nArrian wrote a biography of him, but it is now entirely lost, and the\nbiographical details which have been collected from Simplicius, Suidas,\nAulus Gellius, and others are very scanty. He was born at Hierapolis, in\nPhrygia, and became, how is unknown, a slave of Epaphroditus, a freedman\nand favorite of Nero, who is recorded to have treated him with great\ncruelty. One day, it is said, Epaphroditus began twisting his leg for\namusement. Epictetus said, \"If you go on you will break my leg.\"\nEpaphroditus persisted, the leg was broken, and Epictetus, with\nunruffled serenity, only said, \"Did I not tell you that you would break\nmy leg?\" This circumstance is adduced by Celsus in his famous\ncontroversy with Origen as an instance of Pagan fortitude equal to\nanything which Christian martyrology had to show;[6] but it is probably\na mere myth which grew up to account for the fact mentioned by\nSimplicius and Suidas that Epictetus was feeble in body and lame from an\nearly age.\n\nEpaphroditus was probably a very bad master, and as a favorite and\nintimate of Nero's must have been a bad man; but we have to thank him\nfor the fact that Epictetus, while yet a slave, was sent to attend the\nphilosophic lectures of Musonius Rufus, an eminent Stoic of Rome, whom\nboth Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius mention with great respect. The\nsystem of philosophic training had been at this time long organized.\nThere were masters of repute everywhere, who delivered their instruction\nin regular courses, received a fixed payment for the same, and under\nwhom crowds of young men assembled from far and near to study science\nand ethics--to receive, in short, what corresponded to a university\neducation in those days. The curious circumstance that a slave like\nEpictetus could participate in advantages of this kind is generally\nexplained as the result of a fashionable whim which possessed Roman\nnobles at this time for having philosophers and men of culture among\ntheir slaves. Professor Mahaffy, in his _Greek Life and Thought_ (p.\n132), commenting on the summons of the two philosophers, Anaxarchus and\nCallisthenes, to console Alexander after his murder of Cleitus,\nobserves, that it was probably usual to call in philosophers to minister\nprofessionally in cases of affliction. From this, to making a\nphilosopher a regular adjunct to a large household, even as the baron of\nlater times kept a fool, the step is not great. But Epaphroditus, one\nthinks, must have had frequent reason to rue the choice he made in\nEpictetus, if he expected his domestic philosopher to excuse his\nmisdeeds as Anaxarchus did those of Alexander on the occasion above\nmentioned.\n\nIn the year 94 A. D. the emperor Domitian issued a decree expelling all\nphilosophers from Rome--an easily explainable proceeding on his part if\nthere were any large number of them who, in the words of Epictetus, were\nable \"to look tyrants steadily in the face.\" Epictetus must have by this\ntime obtained his freedom and set up for himself as a professor of\nphilosophy, for we find him, in consequence of this decree, betaking\nhimself to Nicopolis, a city of Epirus. Here he lived and taught to a\nvenerable age, and here he delivered the discourses which Arrian has\nreported for us. He lived with great simplicity, and is said to have had\nno servant or other inmate of his house until he hired a nurse for an\ninfant which was about to be exposed, according to the practice of those\ndays when it was desired to check the inconvenient growth of a family,\nand which Epictetus rescued and brought up. The date of his death is\nunknown.\n\nAnd now, reader, I will take my leave of you with Arrian's farewell\nsalutation to Lucius Gellius, which, literally translated, is _Be\nstrong_. If you need it, I know no teacher better able to make or keep\nyou so than Epictetus. At any rate, to give him a fair chance of doing\nwhat it is in him to do for English-speaking men and women is something\nI have regarded as a sort of duty, a discharge of obligation for his\ninfinite service to myself; which done to the utmost of my powers, the\nfewest forewords are the best.\n\n\n  T. W. R.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n\n    [Footnote 1: _The Encheiridion of Epictetus_, Translated into\n    English by T. W. Rolleston. Kegan Paul, Trench, & Co., 1881.]\n\n    [Footnote 2: Epicteti Dissertationum ab Arriano Digestarum Libri IV.\n    et ex Deperditis Sermonibus Fragmenta. Post Io. Uptoni aliorumque\n    curas, denuo ad Codicum M Storum fidem recensuit, Latina Versione,\n    Adnotationibus, Indicibus illustravit Johannes Schweighaeuser,\n    Lipsiae. MDCCXCIX.\n\n    Epicteti Manuale et Cebetis Tabula Graece et Latine. Schw.\n    MDCCXCVIII.\n\n    There are two excellent English translations of the whole extant\n    works of Epictetus--one by Mrs. Carter, published in the last\n    century, the other by the late George Long, M. A. (Bohn Series), to\n    both of which, but especially the latter, I desire to record my\n    great obligations.]\n\n    [Footnote 3: [Greek: panta rhei], all flows--the cardinal doctrine\n    of the Heracleitean philosophy.]\n\n    [Footnote 4: An English translation of this work has lately\n    appeared.]\n\n    [Footnote 5: Ep. 120. 4. ff.]\n\n    [Footnote 6: Gregory Nazianzen, commenting on this narrative,\n    remarks that it only shows how manfully _unavoidable_ sufferings may\n    be borne.]\n\n\n\n\nCLEANTHES' HYMN TO ZEUS.[1]\n\n\n   Most glorious of the Immortals, many named, Almighty\n     forever.\n\n   Zeus, ruler of nature, that governest all things with\n     law,\n\n   Hail! for lawful it is that all mortals should address\n     Thee.\n\n   For we are Thy offspring, taking the image only of Thy\n     voice,[2] as many mortal things as live and move upon the\n     earth.\n\n   Therefore will I hymn Thee, and sing Thy might forever.\n\n   For Thee doth all this universe that circles round the\n     earth obey, moving whithersoever Thou leadest, and is\n     gladly swayed by Thee.\n\n   Such a minister hast Thou in Thine invincible hands;--the\n     two-edged, blazing, imperishable thunderbolt.\n\n   For under its stroke all Nature shuddereth, and by it\n     Thou guidest aright the Universal Reason, that roams\n     through all things, mingling itself with the greater and\n     the lesser lights, till it have grown so great, and\n     become supreme king over all.\n\n   Nor is aught done on the earth without Thee, O God, nor\n     in the divine sphere of the heavens, nor in the sea,\n\n   Save the works that evil men do in their folly--\n\n   Yea, but Thou knowest even to find a place for\n     superfluous things, and to order that which is\n     disorderly, and things not dear to men are dear to Thee.\n\n   Thus dost Thou harmonize into One all good and evil\n     things, that there should be one everlasting Reason of\n     them all.\n\n   And this the evil among mortal men avoid and heed not;\n     wretched, ever desiring to possess the good, yet they nor\n     see nor hear the universal Law of God, which obeying with\n     all their heart, their life would be well.\n\n   But they rush graceless each to his own aim,\n\n   Some cherishing lust for fame, the nurse of evil strife,\n\n   Some bent on monstrous gain,\n\n   Some turned to folly and the sweet works of the flesh,\n\n   Hastening, indeed, to bring the very contrary of these\n     things to pass.\n\n   But Thou, O Zeus, the All-giver, Dweller in the darkness\n     of cloud, Lord of thunder, save Thou men from their\n     unhappy folly,\n\n   Which do Thou, O Father, scatter from their souls; and\n     give them to discover the wisdom, in whose assurance Thou\n     governest all things with justice;\n\n   So that being honored, they may pay Thee honor,\n\n   Hymning Thy works continually, as it beseems a mortal\n     man.\n\n   Since there can be no greater glory for men or Gods than\n     this,\n\n   Duly to praise forever the Universal Law.\n\n\n   NOTE:\n\n   The bracketed numerals in the text refer throughout to the Notes at\n   the end of the volume; each chapter having, where notes are necessary,\n   its own chapter of Notes.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TEACHING OF EPICTETUS.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK I._\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE BEGINNING OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n1. Wouldst thou be good, then first believe that thou art evil.\n\n2. The beginning of philosophy, at least with those who lay hold of it\nas they ought and enter by the door,[1] is the consciousness of their\nown feebleness and incapacity in respect of necessary things.\n\n3. For we come into the world having by nature no idea of a right-angled\ntriangle, or a quarter-tone, or a semi-tone, but by a certain tradition\nof art we learn each of these things. And thus those who know them not,\ndo not suppose that they know them. But good and evil, and nobleness and\nbaseness, and the seemly and the unseemly, and happiness and\nmisfortune, and what is our concern and what is not, and what ought to\nbe done and what not--who hath come into the world without an implanted\nnotion of these things? Thus we all use these terms, and endeavor to fit\nour natural conceptions to every several thing. _He did well, rightly,\nnot rightly, he failed, he succeeded, he is unrighteous, he is\nrighteous_--which of us spareth to use terms like these? Which of us\nwill defer the use of them till he hath learned them, even as ignorant\nmen do not use terms of geometry or music? But this is the reason of it:\nwe come into the world already, as it were, taught by Nature some things\nin this kind, and setting out from these things we have added thereto\nour own conceit.[2] _For how_, saith one, _do I not know what is noble\nand what is base_? Have I not the notion of it? Truly. _And do I not\napply it to things severally?_ You do apply it. _Do I not, then, apply\nit rightly?_ But here lies the whole question, and here conceit entereth\nin. For setting out from things confessed by all, they go on by a false\napplication to that which is disputed. For if, in addition to those\nthings, they had gained also this power of application, what would then\nhinder them to be perfect? But now since you think that you apply\nrightly the natural conceptions to things severally, tell me, whence\nhave you this assurance?\n\n----\"Because it seems so to me.\"\n\nBut to another it seems otherwise--and he, too, doth he think his\napplication right or not?\n\n----\"He doth think it.\"\n\nCan ye, then, both be rightly applying the conceptions in matters\nwherein your opinions contradict each other?\n\n----\"We cannot.\"\n\nHave you, then, aught better to show for your application, or aught\nabove this, that it seemeth so to you? But what else doth a madman do\nthan those things that to him seem right? And doth this rule suffice for\nhim?\n\n----\"It doth not suffice.\"\n\nCome, then, to that which is above seeming. What is this?\n\n4. Behold, the beginning of philosophy is the observation of how men\ncontradict each other, and the search whence cometh this contradiction,\nand the censure and mistrust of bare opinion. And it is an inquiry into\nthat which seems, whether it rightly seems; and the discovery of a\ncertain rule, even as we have found a balance for weights, and a plumb\nline for straight and crooked. This is the beginning of philosophy. Are\nall things right to all to whom they seem so? But how can contradictory\nthings be right?\n\n----\"Nay, then, not all things, but those that seem to us right.\"\n\nAnd why to you more than the Syrians, or to the Egyptians? Why more\nthan to me or to any other man? Not at all more. Seeming, then, doth not\nfor every man answer to Being; for neither in weights or measures doth\nthe bare appearance content us, but for each case we have discovered\nsome rule. And here, then, is there no rule above seeming? And how could\nit be that there were no evidence or discovery of things the most\nnecessary for men? There is, then, a rule. And wherefore do we not seek\nit, and find it, and, having found it, henceforth use it without\ntransgression, and not so much as stretch forth a finger without it? For\nthis it is, I think, that when it is discovered cureth of their madness\nthose that mismeasure all things by seeming alone; so that henceforth,\nsetting out from things known and investigated, we may use an organized\nbody of natural conceptions in all our several dealings.\n\n5. What is the subject about which we are inquiring? Pleasure? Submit it\nto the rule, cast it into the scales. Now the Good must be a thing of\nsuch sort that we ought to trust in it? _Truly._ And we ought to have\nfaith in it? _We ought._ And ought we to trust in anything which is\nunstable? _Nay._ And hath pleasure any stability? _It hath not._ Take\nit, then, and fling it out of the scales, and set it far away from the\nplace of the Good. But if you are dim of sight, and one balance doth not\nsuffice, then take another. Is it right to be elated in what is good?\n_Yea._ And is it right to be elated then in the presence of a pleasure?\nSee to it that thou say not it is right; or I shall not hold thee worthy\neven of the balance.[3] Thus are things judged and weighed, when the\nrules are held in readiness. And the aim of philosophy is this, to\nexamine and establish the rules. And to use them when they are known is\nthe task of a wise and good man.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nON THE NATURAL CONCEPTIONS.\n\n\n1. The natural conceptions are common to all men, and one cannot\ncontradict another. For which of us but affirms that the Good is\nprofitable, and that we should choose it, and in all circumstances\nfollow and pursue it? Which of us but affirms that uprightness is\nhonorable and becoming? Where, then, doth the contradiction arise?\nConcerning the application of the natural conceptions to things\nseverally. When one saith, _He did well, he is a worthy man_, and\nanother, _Nay, but he did foolishly_, then there is a contradiction\namong men, one with another. And there is the same contradiction among\nthe Jews and the Syrians and the Egyptians and the Romans; not whether\nthat which is righteous should be preferred to all things and in all\ncases pursued, but whether this be righteous or unrighteous, to eat the\nflesh of swine. And ye can discover the same contradiction in the matter\nof Achilles and Agamemnon. For call them before us: What sayest thou,\nAgamemnon, Should not that which is right and fair come to pass?\n\n----\"That should it.\"\n\nAnd what sayest thou, Achilles, Doth it not please thee that what is\nfair and right should be done?\n\n----\"Of all things this doth most please me.\"\n\nThen make application of your natural conceptions. Whence arose this\ndispute? The one saith: _I am not bound to deliver up Chryseis to her\nfather._ And the other saith: _Thou art bound._ Assuredly one of them\nmust ill apply the conception of duty. And again the one saith:\n_Therefore if I should deliver up Chryseis, it is meet that I take his\nprize from one of you._ And the other: _Wouldst thou, then, take from me\nmy beloved?_ He saith: _Yea, even thine._ And _shall I alone, and I\nalone, have nothing_? And thus ariseth the contradiction.\n\n2. What is it, then, to be educated? It is to learn to apply the natural\nconceptions to each thing severally according to nature; and further, to\ndiscern that of things that exist some are in our own power[1] and the\nrest are not in our own power. And things that are in our own power are\nthe will, and all the works of the will. And things that are not in our\nown power are the body, and the parts of the body, and possessions and\nparents and brethren and children and country and, in a word, our\nassociates. Where now shall we place the Good? To what objects shall we\napply it? To those which are in our own power? Then is health not good,\nand whole limbs and life? and are not children and parents and country?\nAnd who will bear with you if you say this? Let us, then, transfer it to\nthese things. Now, can one be happy who is injured, and has missed\ngaining what is good? He cannot. And can such a one bear himself towards\nhis fellows as he ought? How is it possible that he should? For I have\nit of nature that I must seek my own profit. If it profits me to own a\npiece of land, it profits me to take it from my neighbor. If it profits\nme to have a garment, it profits me to steal it from the bath. And hence\nwars, seditions, tyrannies, conspiracies. And how shall I be able to\nmaintain a right mind towards God? for if I suffer injury and\nmisfortune, it cannot be but He neglects me. And what have I to do with\nHim if He cannot help me? And, again, what have I to do with Him if He\nis willing to let me continue in the evils in which I am? Henceforth I\nbegin to hate Him. Why, then, do we build temples and set up statues to\nZeus as we do to powers of evil, such as Fever?[2] And how is He now\nthe Saviour and the Raingiver and the Fruitgiver? And verily, all this\nfollows, if we place anywhere in external things the nature and being of\nthe Good.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE MASTER-FACULTY.\n\n\n1. Of all our faculties ye shall find but one that can contemplate\nitself, or, therefore, approve or disapprove itself. How far hath\ngrammar the power of contemplation? Only so far as to judge concerning\nletters. And music? Only so far as to judge concerning melodies. Doth\nany of them, then, contemplate itself? Not one. But when you have need\nto write to your friend, grammar will tell you how to write; but whether\nto write or not, grammar will not tell. And so with the musical art in\nthe case of melodies; but whether it is now meet or not to sing or to\nplay, music will not tell. What, then, will tell it? That faculty which\nboth contemplates itself and all other things. And what is this? It is\nthe faculty of Reason; for we have received none other which can\nconsider itself--what it is, and what it can, and what it is worth--and\nall the other faculties as well. For what else is it that tells us that\na golden thing is beautiful, since itself doth not? Clearly it is the\nfaculty which makes use of appearances. What else is it that judges of\nmusic and grammar, and the other faculties, and proves their uses, and\nshows the fit occasions? None else than this.\n\n2. Thus the Gods, as it was fit they should, place that only in our\npower which is the mightiest and master thing, the right use of\nappearances; but other things are not in our power. Was it that they did\nnot wish it? I indeed think that had they been able they had made over\nto us those things also; but this they could in no way do. For being on\nthe earth, and bound up with this flesh and with these associates, how\nwas it possible that as regards these we should not be hindered by\nexternal things? But what saith Zeus? \"Epictetus, if it were possible, I\nwould have made both this thy little body and thy little property free\nand unhampered. But forget not now that this is but finely tempered\nclay, and nothing of thine own. And since I could not do this, I have\ngiven thee a part of ourselves, this power of desiring and disliking,\nand pursuing, avoiding, and rejecting, and, in brief, the use of\nappearances. Have a care, then, of this, hold this only for thine own,\nand thou shalt never be hindered or hampered, thou shalt not lament,\nthou shalt not blame, thou shalt never flatter any man.\" What then? Do\nthese seem trifling matters? _God forbid._ Are you, then, not content\nwith them? _At least I pray the Gods I may be._[1]\n\n3. But now having one thing in our power to care for, and to cleave to,\nwe rather choose to be careful of many things, and to bind ourselves to\nmany things, even to the flesh, and to possessions, and to brother and\nfriend, and child and slave. And being thus bound to many things, they\nlie heavy on us and drag us down. So, if the weather be not fair for\nsailing, we sit down distraught and are ever peering forth to see how\nstands the wind. _It is north._ And what is that to us? _When will the\nwest wind blow?_ When it shall seem good to it, friend; or to AEolus. For\nit was not thee, but AEolus whom God made \"steward of the winds.\"[2] What\nthen? It is right to devise how we may perfect the things that are our\nown, and to use the others as their nature is. And what, then, is their\nnature? As it may please God.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE NATURE OF THE GOOD.\n\n\n1. The subject for the good and wise man is his own master-faculty, as\nthe body is for the physician and the trainer, and the soil is the\nsubject for the husbandman. And the work of the good and wise man is to\nuse appearances according to Nature. For it is the nature of every soul\nto consent to what is good and to reject what is evil, and to hold back\nabout what is uncertain; and thus to be moved to pursue the good and to\navoid the evil, and neither way towards what is neither good nor evil.\nFor as it is not lawful for the money-changer or the seller of herbs to\nreject Caesar's coin, but if one present it, then, whether he will or no,\nhe must give up what is sold for it, so it is also with the soul. When\nthe Good appears, straightway the soul is moved towards it, and from the\nEvil. And never doth the soul reject any clear appearance of the good,\nno more than Caesar's coin. On this hangeth every movement both of God\nand man.\n\n2. The nature and essence of the Good is in a certain disposition of the\nWill; likewise that of the Evil. What, then, are outward things? Matter\nfor the Will, about which being occupied it shall attain its own good or\nevil. How shall it attain the Good? Through not being dazzled with\nadmiration of what it works on.[1] For our opinions of this, when right,\nmake the will right, and when wrong make it evil. This law hath God\nestablished, and saith, \"If thou wouldst have aught of good, have it\nfrom thyself.\"\n\n3. If these things are true (and if we are not fools or hypocrites),\nthat Good, for man, lies in the Will, and likewise Evil, and all other\nthings are nothing to us, why are we still troubled? why do we fear? The\nthings for which we have been zealous are in no other man's power; and\nfor the things that are in others' power we are not concerned. What\ndifficulty have we now? _But direct me_, sayest thou. And why shall I\ndirect thee? hath not God directed thee? hath He not given thee that\nwhich is thine own unhindered and unhampered, and hindered and hampered\nthat which is not thine own? And what direction, what word of command\ndidst thou receive from Him when thou camest thence? \"Hold fast\neverything which is thine own--covet not that which is alien to thee.\nAnd faithfulness is thine, and reverence is thine: who, then, can rob\nthee of these things? Who can hinder thee to use them, if not thyself?\nBut thyself can do it, and how? When thou art zealous about things not\nthine own, and hast cast away the things that are.\" With such counsels\nand commands from Zeus, what wilt thou still from me? Am I greater than\nhe? am I more worthy of thy faith? But if thou hold to these things, of\nwhat others hast thou need? _But perchance these are none of his\ncommands?_ Then bring forward the natural conceptions, bring the proofs\nof the philosophers, bring the things thou hast often heard, bring the\nthings that thyself hast spoken, bring what thou hast read, bring what\nthou hast pondered.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE PROMISE OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n1. Of things that exist, some are in our own power, some are not in our\nown power. Of things that are in our own power are our opinions,\nimpulses, pursuits, avoidances, and, in brief, all that is of our own\ndoing. Of things that are not in our own power are the body,\npossessions, reputation, authority, and, in brief, all that is not of\nour own doing. And the things that are in our own power are in their\nnature free, not liable to hindrance or embarrassment, while the things\nthat are not in our own power are strengthless, servile, subject, alien.\n\n2. Remember, then, if you hold things by their nature subject to be\nfree, and things alien to be your proper concern, you will be hampered,\nyou will lament, you will be troubled, you will blame Gods and men. But\nif you hold that only to be your own which is so, and the alien for what\nit is, alien, then none shall ever compel you, none shall hinder you,\nyou will blame no one, accuse no one, you will not do the least thing\nunwillingly, none shall harm you, you shall have no foe, for you shall\nsuffer no injury.\n\n3. Aiming, then, at things so high, remember that it is no moderate\npassion wherewith you must attempt them, but some things you must\nutterly renounce, and put some, for the present, aside. For if, let us\nsay, you aim also at this, to rule and to gather riches, then you are\nlike, through aiming at the chief things also, to miss these lower ends;\nand shall most assuredly miss those others, through which alone freedom\nand happiness are won. Straightway, then, practice saying to every harsh\nappearance--_Thou art an Appearance and not at all the thing thou\nappearest to be_. Then examine it, and prove it by the rules you have,\nbut first and above all by this, whether it concern something that is in\nour own power, or something that is not in our own power. And if the\nlatter, then be the thought at hand: _It is nothing to Me._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE WAY OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n1. A certain Roman having entered with his son and listened to one\nlecture, \"This,\" said Epictetus, \"is the manner of teaching;\" and he was\nsilent. But when the other prayed him to continue, he spake as\nfollows:--\n\nEvery art is wearisome, in the learning of it, to the untaught and\nunskilled. Yet things that are made by the arts immediately declare\ntheir use, and for what they were made, and in most of them is something\nattractive and pleasing. And thus when a shoemaker is learning his trade\nit is no pleasure to stand by and observe him, but the shoe is useful,\nand moreover not unpleasing to behold. And the learning of a carpenter's\ntrade is very grievous to an untaught person who happens to be present,\nbut the work done declares the need of the art. But far more is this\nseen in music, for if you are by where one is learning, it will appear\nthe most painful of all instructions; but that which is produced by the\nmusical art is sweet and delightful to hear, even to those who are\nuntaught in it. And here we conceive the work of one who studies\nphilosophy to be some such thing, that he must fit his desire to all\nevents, so that nothing may come to pass against our will, nor may aught\nfail to come to pass that we wish for. Whence it results to those who so\norder it, that they never fail to obtain what they would, nor to avoid\nwhat they would not, living, as regards themselves, without pain, fear,\nor trouble; and as regards their fellows, observing all the relations,\nnatural and acquired; as son or father, or brother or citizen, or\nhusband or wife, or neighbor or fellow-traveler, or prince or subject.\nSuch we conceive to be the work of one who pursues philosophy. And next\nwe must inquire how this may come about.\n\n2. We see, then, that the carpenter becomes a carpenter by learning\nsomething, and by learning something the pilot becomes a pilot. And here\nalso is it not on this wise? Is it enough that we merely wish to become\ngood and wise, or must we not also learn something? We inquire, then,\nwhat we have to learn?\n\n3. The philosophers say that, before all things, it is needful to learn\nthat God is, and taketh thought for all things; and that nothing can be\nhid from Him, neither deeds, nor even thoughts or wishes. Thereafter, of\nwhat nature the Gods are. For whatever they are found to be, he who\nwould please and serve them must strive, with all his might, to be like\nunto them. If the Divine is faithful, so must he be faithful; if free,\nso must he be free; if beneficent, so must he be beneficent; if\nhigh-minded, so must he be high-minded; so that thus emulating God, he\nshall both do and speak the things that follow therefrom.[1]\n\n4. Whence, then, shall we make a beginning? If you will consider this\nwith me, I shall say, first, that you must attend to the sense of\nwords.[2]\n\n----\"So I do not now understand them?\"\n\nYou do not.\n\n----\"How, then, do I use them?\"\n\nAs the unlettered use written words, or as cattle use appearances; for\nthe use is one thing and understanding another. But if you think you\nunderstand, then take any word you will,[3] and let us try ourselves,\nwhether we understand it. But it is hateful to be confuted, for a man\nnow old, and one who, perhaps, hath served his three campaigns! And I\ntoo know this. For you have come to me now as one who lacketh nothing.\nAnd what could you suppose to be lacking to you? Wealth have you, and\nchildren, and it may be a wife, and many servants; Caesar knows you, you\nhave won many friends in Rome, you give every man his due, you reward\nwith good him that doeth good to you, and with evil him that doeth evil.\nWhat is still lacking to you? If, now, I shall show you that you lack\nthe greatest and most necessary things for happiness, and that to this\nday you have cared for everything rather than for what behooved you; and\nif I crown all and say that you know not what God is nor what man is,\nnor Good nor Evil;--and what I say of other things is perhaps endurable,\nbut if I say you know not your own self, how can you endure me, and bear\nthe accusation, and abide here? Never--but straightway you will go away\nin anger. And yet what evil have I done you? Unless the mirror doth evil\nto the ill-favored man, when it shows him to himself such as he is, and\nunless the physician is thought to affront the sick man when he may say\nto him: _Man, dost thou think thou ailest nothing? Thou hast a fever:\nfast to-day and drink water._ And none saith, _What an affront_. But if\none shall say to a man: _Thy pursuits art inflamed, thine avoidances are\nmean, thy purposes are lawless, thy impulses accord not with nature,\nthine opinions are vain and lying_--straightway he goeth forth and\nsaith, _He affronted me_.\n\n5. We follow our business as in a great fair. Cattle and oxen are\nbrought to be sold; and the greater part of the men come some to buy,\nsome to sell; and few are they who come for the spectacle of the\nfair,--how it comes to pass, and wherefore, and who are they who have\nestablished it, and to what end. And so it is here, too, in this\nassembly of life. Some, indeed, like cattle, concern themselves with\nnothing but fodder; even such as those that care for possessions and\nlands and servants and offices, for these are nothing more than fodder.\nBut few are they who come to the fair for love of the spectacle, what\nthe world is and by whom it is governed. By no one? And how is it\npossible that a state or a house cannot endure, no not for the shortest\ntime, without a governor and overseer, but this so great and fair fabric\nshould be guided thus orderly by chance and accident? There is, then,\none who governs. But what is his nature? and how doth he govern? and we,\nthat were made by him, what are we, and for what are we? or have we at\nleast some intercourse and link with him, or have we none? Thus it is\nthat these few are moved, and thenceforth study this alone, to learn\nabout the fair, and to depart. What then? they are mocked by the\nmultitude. And in the fair, too, the observers are mocked by the\ntraders; and had the cattle any reflection they would mock all those who\ncared for anything else than fodder.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTO THE LEARNER.\n\n\n1. Remember that pursuit declares the aim of attaining the thing\npursued, and avoidance that of not falling into the thing shunned; and\nhe who fails in his pursuit is unfortunate, and it is misfortune to fall\ninto what he would avoid. If now you shun only those things in your\npower which are contrary to Nature, you shall never fall into what you\nwould avoid. But if you shun disease or death or poverty, you shall have\nmisfortune.\n\n2. Turn away, then, your avoidance from things not in our power, and\nset it upon things contrary to Nature which are in our power. And let\npursuit for the present be utterly effaced; for if you are pursuing\nsomething that is not in our power, it must needs be that you miscarry,\nand of things that are, as many as you may rightly aim at, none are yet\nopen to you. But use only desire and aversion, and that indeed lightly,\nand with reserve, and indifferently.\n\n3. No great thing cometh suddenly into being, for not even a bunch of\ngrapes can, or a fig. If you say to me now:_ I desire a fig_, I answer\nthat there is need of time: let it first of all flower, and then bring\nforth the fruit, and then ripen. When the fruit of a fig-tree is not\nperfected at once, and in a single hour, would you win the fruit of a\nman's mind thus quickly and easily? Even if I say to you, expect it not.\n\n4. To fulfill the promise of a man's nature is itself no common thing.\nFor what is a man? _A living creature_, say you; _mortal, and endowed\nwith Reason_. And from what are we set apart by Reason? _From the wild\nbeasts._ And what others? _From sheep and the like._ Look to it, then,\nthat thou do nothing like a wild beast, for if thou do, the man in thee\nperisheth, thou hast not fulfilled his promise. Look to it, that thou do\nnothing like a sheep, or thus too the man hath perished. _What, then,\ncan we do as sheep?_ When we are gluttonous, sensual, reckless, filthy,\nthoughtless, to what are we then sunken? To sheep. What have we lost?\nOur faculty of Reason. And when we are contentious, and hurtful, and\nangry, and violent, to what are we sunken? To wild beasts. And for the\nrest some of us are great wild beasts, and some of us little and evil\nones; whereby we may say, \"Let me at least be eaten by a lion.\"[1] But\nthrough all these things the promise of the man's nature has been\nruined.\n\n5. For when is a complex proposition safe?[2] When it fulfills its\npromise. So that the validity of a complex proposition is when it is a\ncomplex of truths. And when is a disjunctive safe? When it fulfills its\npromise. And when are flutes, or a lyre, or a horse, or a dog? What\nmarvel is it, then, if a man also is to be saved in the same way, and\nperish in the same way?\n\n6. But each thing is increased and saved by the corresponding works--the\ncarpenter by the practice of carpentry, the grammarian by the study of\ngrammar; but if he use to write ungrammatically, it must needs be that\nhis art shall be corrupted and destroyed. Thus, too, the works of\nreverence save the reverent man, and those of shamelessness destroy him.\nAnd works of faithfulness save the faithful man, and the contrary\ndestroy him. And men of the contrary character are strengthened therein\nby contrary deeds; the irreverent by irreverence, the faithless by\nfaithlessness, the reviler by reviling, the angry by anger, the\navaricious by unfair giving and taking.\n\n7. Know, that not easily shall a conviction arise in a man unless he\nevery day speak the same things and hear the same things, and at the\nsame time apply them unto life.\n\n8. Every great power is perilous to beginners. Thou must bear such\nthings according to thy strength. _But I must live according to Nature?_\nThat is not for a sick man.[3] Lead thy life as a sick man for a while,\nso that thou mayest hereafter live it as a whole man. Fast, drink water,\nabstain for a while from pursuit of every kind, in order that thou\nmayest pursue as Reason bids. And if as Reason bids, then when thou\nshalt have aught of good in thee, thy pursuit shall be well. _Nay, but\nwe would live as sages and do good to men._ What good? What wilt thou\ndo? Hast thou done good to thyself? But thou wouldst exhort them? And\nhast thou exhorted thyself?[4] Thou wouldst do them good--then do not\nchatter to them, but show them in thyself what manner of men philosophy\ncan make. In thy eating do good to those that eat with thee, in thy\ndrinking to those that drink, by yielding and giving place to all, and\nbearing with them. Thus do them good, and not by spitting thy bile upon\nthem.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE CYNIC.\n\n\n1. One of his pupils, who seemed to be drawn towards the way of\nCynicism, inquired of Epictetus what manner of man the Cynic ought to\nbe, and what was the natural conception of the thing. And Epictetus\nsaid: Let us look into it at leisure. But so much I have now to say to\nyou, that whosoever shall without God attempt so great a matter stirreth\nup the wrath of God against him, and desireth only to behave himself\nunseemly before the people. For in no well-ordered house doth one come\nin and say to himself: _I should be the steward of the house_, else,\nwhen the lord of the house shall have observed it, and seeth him\ninsolently giving orders, he will drag him forth and chastise him. So it\nis also, in this great city of the universe, for here too there is a\nmaster of the house who ordereth each and all: Thou art the Sun; thy\npower is to travel round and to make the year and the seasons, and to\nincrease and nourish fruits, and to stir the winds and still them, and\ntemperately to warm the bodies of men. Go forth, run thy course, and\nminister thus to the greatest things and to the least. Thou art a calf;\nwhen a lion shall appear, do what befits thee, or it shall be worse for\nthee. Thou art a bull; come forth and fight, for this is thy part and\npride, and this thou canst. Thou art able to lead the army against\nIlion; be Agamemnon. Thou canst fight in single combat with Hector; be\nAchilles. But if Thersites came forth and pretended to the authority,\nthen either he would not gain it, or, gaining it, he would have been\nshamed before many witnesses.\n\n2. And about this affair, do thou take thought upon it earnestly, for it\nis not such as it seemeth to thee. _I wear a rough cloak now, and I\nshall wear it then;[2] I sleep hard now, and I shall sleep so then. I\nwill take to myself a wallet and staff, and I will begin to go about and\nbeg, and to reprove every one I meet with; and if I shall see one that\nplucks out his hairs, I will censure him, or one that hath his hair\ncurled, or that goes in purple raiment._ If thou conceivest the matter\non this wise, far be it from thee--go not near it, it is not for thee.\nBut if thou conceivest of it as it is, and holdest thyself not unworthy\nof it, then behold to how great an enterprise thou art putting forth\nthine hand.\n\n3. First, in things that concern thyself, thou must appear in nothing\nlike unto what thou now doest. Thou must not accuse God nor man; thou\nmust utterly give over pursuit, and avoid only those things that are in\nthe power of thy will; anger is not meet for thee, nor resentment, nor\nenvy, nor pity;[3] nor must a girl appear to thee fair, nor must\nreputation, nor a flat cake.[4] For it must be understood that other men\nshelter themselves by walls and houses and by darkness when they do such\nthings, and many means of concealment have they. One shutteth the door,\nplaceth some one before the chamber; _if any one should come, say, He is\nout, he is busy_. But in place of all these things it behooves the Cynic\nto shelter himself behind his own piety and reverence; but if he doth\nnot, he shall be put to shame, naked under the sky. This is his house,\nthis his door, this the guards of his chamber, this his darkness. For he\nmust not seek to hide aught that he doeth, else he is gone, the Cynic\nhath perished, the man who lived under the open sky, the freeman. He\nhath begun to fear something from without, he hath begun to need\nconcealment; nor can he find it when he would, for where shall he hide\nhimself, and how? And if by chance this tutor, this public teacher,\nshould be found in guilt, what things must he not suffer! And fearing\nthese things, can he yet take heart with his whole soul to guide the\nrest of mankind? That can he never: it is impossible!\n\n4. First, then, thou must purify thy ruling faculty and this vocation\nof thine also, saying: Now it is my mind I must shape, as the carpenter\nshapes wood and the shoemaker leather; and the thing to be formed is a\nright use of appearances. But nothing to me is the body, and nothing to\nme the parts of it. _Death?_ Let it come when it will, either death of\nthe whole or of a part. _Flee it!_ And whither? Can any man cast me out\nof the universe? He cannot; but whithersoever I may go there will be the\nsun, and the moon, and there the stars, and visions, and omens, and\ncommunion with the Gods.[5]\n\n5. And, furthermore, when he hath thus fashioned himself, he will not be\ncontent with these things, who is a Cynic indeed. But know that he is an\nherald from God to men, declaring to them the truth about good and evil\nthings; that they have erred, and are seeking the reality of good and\nevil where it is not; and where it is, they do not consider; and he is a\nspy, like Diogenes, when he was led captive to Philip after the battle\nof Chaeronea.[6] For the Cynic is, in truth, a spy of the things that are\nfriendly to men, and that are hostile; and having closely spied out all,\nhe must come back and declare the truth. And he must neither be stricken\nwith terror and report of enemies where none are; nor be in any\notherwise confounded or troubled by the appearances.\n\n6. He must then be able, if so it chance, to go up impassioned, as on\nthe tragic stage, and speak that word of Socrates, \"O men, whither are\nye borne away? What do ye? Miserable as ye are! like blind men ye\nwander up and down. Ye have left the true road, and are going by a\nfalse; ye are seeking peace and happiness where they are not, and if\nanother shall show you where they are, ye believe him not. Wherefore\nwill ye seek it in outward things? _In the body?_ It is not there--and\nif ye believe me not, lo, Myro! lo, Ophellius.[7] _In possessions?_ It\nis not there, and if ye believe me not, lo, Croesus! lo, the wealthy\nof our own day, how full of mourning is their life! _In authority?_ It\nis not there, else should those be happy who have been twice or thrice\nconsul; yet they are not. Whom shall we believe in this matter? You, who\nlook but on these men from without, and are dazzled by the appearance,\nor the men themselves? And what say they? Hearken to them when they\nlament, when they groan, when by reason of those consulships, and their\nglory and renown, they hold their state the more full of misery and\ndanger! _In royalty?_ It is not there; else were Nero happy and\nSardanapalus; but not Agamemnon himself was happy, more splendid though\nhe was than Nero or Sardanapalus; but while the rest are snoring what is\nhe doing?\n\n  \"He tore his rooted hair by handfuls out.\"--_Il._ x.\n\nAnd what saith himself? \"I am distraught,\" he saith, \"and I am in\nanguish; my heart leaps forth from my bosom.\"--[_Il._ x.] Miserable man!\nwhich of thy concerns hath gone wrong with thee? Thy wealth? Nay. Thy\nbody? Nay; but thou art rich in gold and bronze. What ails thee then?\nThat part, whatever it be, with which we pursue, with which we avoid,\nwith which we desire and dislike, thou hast neglected and corrupted. How\nhath it been neglected? He hath been ignorant of the true Good for which\nit was born, and of the Evil; and of what is his own, and what is alien\nto him. And when it goeth ill with something that is alien to him, he\nsaith, _Woe is me, for the Greeks are in peril._ O unhappy mind of thee!\nof all things alone neglected and untended. _They will be slain by the\nTrojans and die!_ And if the Trojans slay them not, will they not still\ndie? _Yea, but not all together._ What, then, doth it matter? for if it\nbe an evil to die, it is alike evil to die together or to die one by\none. Shall anything else happen to them than the parting of body and\nsoul? _Nothing._ And when the Greeks have perished, is the door closed\nto thee? canst thou not also die? _I can._ Wherefore, then, dost thou\nlament: _Woe is me, a king, and bearing the scepter of Zeus_? There is\nno unfortunate king, as there is no unfortunate God. What, then, art\nthou? In very truth a shepherd; for thou lamentest even as shepherds do\nwhen a wolf hath snatched away one of the sheep; and sheep are they whom\nthou dost rule. And why art thou come hither? Was thy faculty of pursuit\nin any peril, or of avoidance, or thy desire or aversion? _Nay_, he\nsaith, _but my brother's wife was carried away_. Was it not a great gain\nto be rid of an adulterous wife? _Shall we be, then, despised of the\nTrojans?_ Of the Trojan? Of what manner of men? of wise men or fools? If\nof wise men, why do ye make war with them? if of fools, why do ye heed\nthem?[8]\n\n7. _In what, then, is the good, seeing that in these things it is not?\nTell us, thou, my lord missionary and spy!_ It is there where ye deem it\nnot, and where ye have no desire to seek it. For did ye desire, ye would\nhave found it in yourselves, nor would ye wander to things without, nor\npursue things alien, as if they were your own concerns. Turn to your own\nselves; understand the natural conceptions which ye possess. What kind\nof thing do ye take the Good to be? Peace? happiness? freedom? Come,\nthen, do ye not naturally conceive it as great, as precious, and that\ncannot be harmed? What kind of material, then, will ye take to shape\npeace and freedom withal--that which is enslaved or in that which is\nfree? _That which is free._ Have ye the flesh enslaved or free? _We know\nnot._ Know ye not that it is the slave of fever, of gout, of ophthalmia,\nof dysentery, of tyranny, and fire, and steel, and everything that is\nmightier than itself? _Yea, it is enslaved._ How, then, can aught that\nis of the body be free? and how can that be great or precious which by\nnature is dead, mere earth or mud?\n\n8. What then? have ye nothing that is free? _It may be nothing._ And who\ncan compel you to assent to an appearance that is false? _No man._ And\nwho can compel you not to assent to an appearance that is true? _No\nman._ Here, then, ye see that there is in you something that is by\nnature free. But which of you, except he lay hold of some appearance of\nthe profitable, or of the becoming, can either pursue or avoid, or\ndesire or dislike, or adapt or intend anything? _No man._ In these\nthings, too, then, ye have something that is unhindered and free. This,\nmiserable men, must ye perfect; this have a care to, in this seek for\nthe Good.\n\n9. _And how is it possible that one can live prosperously who hath\nnothing; a naked, homeless, hearthless, beggarly man, without servants,\nwithout a country?_ Lo, God hath sent you a man to show you in very deed\nthat it is possible. Behold me, that I have neither country, nor house,\nnor possessions, nor servants; I sleep on the ground; nor is a wife\nmine, nor children, nor domicile, but only earth and heaven, and a\nsingle cloak. And what is lacking to me? do ever I grieve? do I fear? am\nI not free? When did any of you see me fail of my pursuit, or meet with\nwhat I had avoided? When did I blame God or man? When did I accuse any\nman? When did any of you see me of a sullen countenance? How do I meet\nthose whom ye fear and marvel at? Do I not treat them as my slaves? Who\nthat seeth me, but thinketh he beholdeth his king and his lord?\n\n10. So these are the accents of the Cynic, this his character, this his\ndesign. Not so--but it is his bag, and his staff, and his great jaws;\nand to devour all that is given to him, or store it up, or to reprove\nout of season every one that he may meet, or to show off his\nshoulder.[9]\n\n11. Dost thou see how thou art about to take in hand so great a matter?\nTake first a mirror, look upon thy shoulders, mark well thy loins and\nthighs. Thou art about to enter thy name for the Olympic games, O man;\nno cold and paltry contest. Nor canst thou then be merely overcome and\nthen depart; but first thou must be shamed in the sight of all the\nworld; and not alone of the Athenians, or Lacedaemonians, or\nNicopolitans. And then if thou hast too rashly entered upon the contest\nthou must be thrashed, and before being thrashed must suffer thirst and\nscorching heat, and swallow much dust.\n\n12. Consider more closely, know thyself, question thy genius,[10]\nattempt nothing without God; who, if He counsel thee, be sure that He\nwills thee either to be great or to be greatly plagued. For this very\nagreeable circumstance is linked with the calling of a Cynic; he must be\nflogged like an ass, and, being flogged, must love those who flog him,\nas though he were the father or brother of all mankind. Not so, but if\none shall flog thee, stand in the midst and shriek out, _O Caesar, what\nthings do I suffer in the Emperor's peace! Let us take him before the\npro-consul._ But what is Caesar to the Cynic? or what is a pro-consul? or\nwhat is any other than He that hath sent him hither, and whom he\nserveth, which is Zeus? Doth he call upon any other than God? Is he not\npersuaded, whatsoever things he may suffer, that he is being trained and\nexercised by God? Hercules, when he was exercised by Eurystheus, never\ndeemed himself wretched; but fulfilled courageously all that was laid\nupon him. But he who shall cry out and bear it hard when he is being\ntrained and exercised by Zeus, is he worthy to bear the scepter of\nDiogenes? Hear what Diogenes saith, when ill of a fever, to the\nbystanders: _Base souls, will ye not remain? To see the overthrow and\ncombat of athletes, how great a way ye journey to Olympia; and have ye\nno will to see a combat between a fever and a man?_ And will such an one\npresently accuse God who hath sent him, as having used him ill--he who\nwas glorying in his lot, and held himself worthy to be a spectacle to\nthe bystanders? For of what shall he accuse Him: that his life is\nseemly, that he manifests God's will, that he showeth forth his virtue\nmore brightly? Come, then; and what saith he about death, about pain?\nHow did he compare his own happiness with that of the Great King? nay,\nhe thought rather that there was no comparison. For where there are\nconfusions, and griefs, and fears, and unattained pursuits, and\navoidance in vain, and envy and rivalry, can the way to happiness lie\nthere? But where rotten opinions are there must of necessity be all\nthese things.\n\n13. And the young man having asked whether one that hath fallen ill\nshall obey, if a friend desire that he will go home with him and be\ntended: Where, he said, will you show me the friend of a Cynic? For he\nhimself must be even such another, so as to be worthy to be reckoned his\nfriend. A sharer in the scepter and the royalty must he be, and a worthy\nservant, if he will be worthy of his friendship, as Diogenes was of\nAntisthenes and Crates of Diogenes. Or seems it so to thee that\nwhosoever shall come to him and bid him hail is his friend? and that he\nwill think him worthy that a Cynic shall go to his house? Thus if it\nplease thee to be a Cynic, bethink thee rather of such a thing as this,\nand cast about for a dainty dungheap whereon to have thy fever; and see\nthat it look away from the north, so that thou be not chilled. But thou\nseemest to me to wish to retreat into somebody's house and spend thy\ntime there, and be fed. What hast thou to do with undertaking so great a\nmatter?\n\n14. _But marriage_, said he, _and the begetting of children,--are these\nto be received by the Cynic among his chief purposes?_\n\nGive me, said Epictetus, a city of wise men, and perhaps no one will\neasily come to the Cynic way: for whose sake should he embrace it?\nHowever, if we do suppose such a thing, there is nothing to hinder his\nmarrying and begetting children; for his wife will be even such another,\nand his father-in-law such another, and thus will his children be\nbrought up. But things being as they now are, as it were in order of\nbattle, must not the Cynic be given wholly and undistracted to the\nservice of God, being able to go about among men, and not bound to\nprivate duties, nor entangled in ties which, if he transgress, he can no\nlonger preserve the aspect of honesty and goodness; and if he obey them,\nhe hath lost that of the missionary, the spy, the herald of the Gods?\nFor see! he must needs observe a certain conduct towards his\nfather-in-law, and he hath somewhat to render also to the rest of his\nwife's kin and to his wife herself. And for the rest, he is shut off\nfrom Cynicism by the care for sickness, or means of livelihood. For one\nthing alone, he must have a vessel for warming water for his little\nchild, where he may wash it in the bath; and wool for his wife when she\nhas been delivered, and oil, and a couch, and a drinking cup--already a\nnumber of utensils--and other affairs and distractions. Where shall I\nthenceforth find that king, whose business is the common weal?\n\n  \"Warden of men, and with so many cares.\"\n                                _Il._ ii. 25.\n\non whom it lies to oversee all men, the married, and parents, and who\nuseth his wife well, and who ill, and who wrangles, and what household\nis well-ordered, and what not; going about as a physician, and feeling\npulses--\"thou hast a fever, thou a headache, thou the gout; do thou\nfast, do thou eat, do thou avoid the bath, thou needest the knife, thou\nthe cautery?\" Where is the place for leisure to one who is bound to\nprivate duties? Must he not provide raiment for his children? yea, and\nsend them to the schoolmaster with their tablets and writing\ninstruments? and have a bed ready for them, since a man cannot be a\nCynic from the womb? Else were it better to cast them away at once than\nkill them in this way. See, now, to what we have brought our Cynic--how\nwe have taken away his kingship from him! _True, but Crates married._\nThou speakest of a circumstance that arose from love, and adducest a\nwife who was another Crates.[11] But our inquiry is concerning common\nmarriages, and how men may be undistracted; and thus inquiring, we do\nnot find it, in this condition of the world, a purpose of chief concern\nfor a Cynic.\n\n15. _How, then_, said he, _shall he still be preserving the community?_\nGod help thee! Whether do they best serve mankind who fill their own\nplace by bringing into the world two or three screaming children, or\nthose who, as far they may, oversee all men, what they do, how they\nlive, wherewith they concern themselves, and what duties they neglect?\nAnd were the Thebans more benefited by as many as left their little\nchildren behind, or by Epaminondas, who died childless? And did Priam,\nwho begat fifty good-for-nothing sons, or Danaus, or AEolus,[12] better\nserve the community than Homer? Shall, then, the command of an army or\nthe writing of poems withdraw a man from marriage and fatherhood, and he\nshall not be thought to have gained nothing for his childlessness, but\nthe kingship of a Cynic shall be not worth what it costs? It may be we\ndo not perceive his greatness, nor do we worthily conceive of the\ncharacter of Diogenes; but we turn away our eyes to the present Cynics,\n\"watch-dogs of the dining-room,\"[13] who in nothing resemble those\nothers, save perchance in breaking wind; but in no other thing. For\nelse these things would not have moved us, nor should we have marveled\nif a Cynic will not marry nor beget children. Man! he hath begotten all\nmankind, he hath all men for his sons, all women for his daughters; so\ndoth he visit all and care for all. Thinkest thou that he is a mere\nmeddler and busybody in rebuking those whom he meets? As a father he\ndoth it, as a brother, and as servant of the Universal Father, which is\nGod.\n\n16. If it please thee, ask of me also whether he shall have to do with\naffairs of public polity? Fool! dost thou seek a greater polity than\nthat in whose affairs he is already concerned? Will it be greater if he\ncome forward among the Athenians to say something about ways or\nmeans--he, whose part it is to discourse with all men, Athenians,\nCorinthians, Romans alike, not concerning means or ways, nor concerning\npeace or war, but about happiness and unhappiness, about good-fortune\nand ill-fortune, about slavery and freedom? And of a man that hath his\npart in so great a polity will you ask me if he shall attend to public\naffairs? Ask me also if he shall be a ruler; and again I shall say, Thou\nfool, what rule can be greater than his?\n\n17. And to such a man there is need also of a certain kind of body. For\nif he shall appear consumptive, meager, and pale, his witness hath not\nthe same emphasis. Not only by showing forth the things of the spirit\nmust he convince foolish men that it is possible, without the things\nthat are admired of them, to be good and wise, but also in his body must\nhe show that plain and simple and open-air living are not mischievous\neven to the body: \"Behold, even of this I am a witness, I and my body.\"\nSo Diogenes was wont to do, for he went about radiant with health, and\nwith his very body he turned many to good. But a Cynic that men pity\nseems to be a beggar--all men turn away from him, all stumble at him.\nFor he must not appear squalid; so that neither in this respect shall he\nscare men away; but his very austerity should be cleanly and pleasing.\n\n18. Much grace of body, then, must belong to the Cynic, and also\nquickness of mind, else he is a mere clot of slime and nothing else; for\nhe must be ready and apt to meet all that may befall him. Thus when one\nsaid to Diogenes: _Thou art that Diogenes who thinkest there are no\nGods_, he replied, _And how may that be, seeing I hold thee hateful to\nthe Gods?_ And again, when Alexander stood beside him, as he was lying\nasleep, and said:\n\n  \"Not all night must a man of counsel sleep,\"\n\nhe answered, ere he was yet awake:\n\n  \"Warden of men, and with so many cares.\"[14]\n\n19. But before all things must his ruling faculty be purer than the sun,\nelse he must needs be a gambler and cheater, who, being himself\nentangled in some iniquity, will reprove others. For, see how the matter\nstands: to these kings and tyrants, their spearmen and their arms give\nthe office of reproving men, and the power to punish transgressors, yea,\nthough they themselves be evil; but to the Cynic, instead of arms and\nspearmen, his conscience giveth this power. When he knows that he has\nwatched and labored for men, and lain down to sleep in purity, and sleep\nhath left him yet purer; and that his thoughts have been the thoughts of\none dear to the Gods, of a servant, and a sharer in the rule of Zeus;\nand he hath had ever at hand that\n\n  \"Lead me, O Zeus, and thou Destiny,\"[15]\n\nand,\n\n  \"If thus it be pleasing to the Gods, so may it be\"--\n\nwherefore, then, shall he not take heart to speak boldly to his\nbrothers, to his children, in a word, to all his kin? For this reason,\nhe that is in this state is no meddler or busybody, for when he\noverlooks human affairs he meddles not with foreign matters, but with\nhis own affairs. Else, name the general a busybody when he overlooks his\nsoldiers, and reviews them, and watches them, and punishes the\ndisorderly. But if you have a flat cake under your cloak while you\nreprove others, I say, get hence rather into a corner, and eat what thou\nhast stolen--what are other men's concerns to thee? For what art\nthou--the bull of the herd? or the queen bee? Show me the tokens of thy\nsupremacy, such as nature hath given her. But if thou art a drone\nclaiming sovereignty over the bees, thinkest thou not that thy\nfellow-citizens will overthrow thee, as bees do the drones?\n\n20. And truly the Cynic must be so long-suffering as that he shall seem\nto the multitude insensate and a stone. Him doth none revile, nor smite,\nnor insult; but his body hath he given to any man to use at will. For he\nremembers that the worse must needs be vanquished by the better,\nwhereinsoever it is the worse; and the body is worse than the\nmultitude--the weaker than the stronger. Never, then, doth he go down to\nany contest where it is possible for him to be vanquished, but he yields\nup all that is not his own, and contends for nothing that is subject to\nothers. But where there is question of the will and the use of\nappearances, then you shall see how many eyes he hath, so that you may\nsay that compared with him Argus was blind. Is his assent ever hasty; or\nhis desire idle; or his pursuit in vain; or his avoidance unsuccessful;\nor his aim unfulfilled? doth he ever blame, or cringe, or envy? This is\nhis great study and his design; but as regards all other things, he lies\non his back and snores, for all is peace. There is no thief of his will,\nnor tyrant; but of his body? yea; and of his chattels? yea, and also of\nhis authority and his honors. What, then, are these things to him? So\nwhen one may seek to make him afraid on account of them--_Go hence_, he\nsaith to him, _and find out little children; it is to these that masks\nare dreadful, but I know they are made of clay, and that inside them\nthere is nothing._\n\n21. On such a matter art thou now meditating. Therefore, if it please\nthee, in God's name delay it yet awhile, and see first what ability thou\nhast for it. For mark what Hector speaks to Andromache: _Go_, he saith,\n_rather into the house and weave_--\n\n                      \"For war's the care\n  Of every man, and more than all of me.\"\n                                --_Il._ vi. 490.\n\nThus he knew where lay his own ability and her incapacity.\n\nEND OF BOOK I.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK II._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nON GENUINE AND BORROWED BELIEFS.\n\n\n1. The master-argument seems to start from propositions such as\nthese:[1] There being a mutual contradiction among these three\npropositions--(1) \"Every past event is necessarily true,\" and (2) \"An\nimpossibility cannot follow a possibility,\" and (3) \"Things are possible\nwhich neither are nor will be true,\" Diodorus, perceiving this\ncontradiction, made use of the force of the first two in order to prove\nthat nothing is possible which neither is nor will be true. And, again,\none will hold these two, (3) that a thing is possible which neither is\nnor will be true, and (2) that an impossibility cannot follow from a\npossibility; but by no means that every past thing is necessarily true,\nand thus those of the school of Cleanthes appear to think, whom\nAntipater strongly defended. But some hold the other two, (3) that a\nthing is possible that neither is nor will be true, and (1) that every\npast event is necessarily true; but maintain that an impossibility may\nfollow from a possibility. But all three it is impossible to hold at\nonce, because of their mutual contradiction.\n\n2. Now, if any one inquire of me, _And which of these dost thou hold?_\nI shall answer him that I do not know, but I have received this account,\nthat Diodorus holds certain of them, and I think the followers of\nPanthoides and Cleanthes certain others, and those of Chrysippus yet\nothers. _And thyself?_ Nay, it is no affair of mine to try my own\nthoughts, and to compare and estimate statements, and to form some\nopinion of my own upon the matter.[2] And thus I differ no whit from the\ngrammarians. Who was Hector's father? _Priam._ And his brothers?\n_Alexander and Deiphobus._ And their mother, who was she? _Hecuba. That\nis the account I have received._ From whom? _From Homer; and I think\nHellanicus has written of them, and maybe others too._ And I; what\nbetter have I to say about the master-argument? But if I am a vain man,\nand especially at a banquet, I shall amaze all the company by recounting\nthose who have written on it;--for Chrysippus wrote on it wonderfully in\nhis first book \"On Possibilities;\" and Cleanthes wrote a separate\ntreatise on it, and so did Archedemus. And Antipater wrote too, not only\nin his book \"On Possibilities,\" but also separately in those on the\nmaster-argument. Have you not read the work? No! Then read it. And what\ngood will it do him to read it? He will become yet more of a babbler and\na nuisance than he is now, for what else hath the reading of it done for\nyou? What opinion have you formed for yourself on the matter? Nay, but\nyou will tell us all about Helen, and Priam, and the island of Calypso,\nthat never existed, nor ever will.\n\n3. And in Homer, indeed, it is no great matter if you have simply\nmastered the account, and formed no opinion of your own. But in ethics\nthis is even much more often the case than in other matters. Tell me\nconcerning good and evil things! Listen to him, then, with his--\n\n  \"Me to Ciconia brought the wind from Troy.\"\n                                 --_Od._ ix, 39.\n\n_Of things some are good, some evil, and some indifferent. Now the good\nthings are the virtues, and those that have the nature of virtue, and\nthe evil things the vices, and those that have the nature of vice; and\nthe indifferent things are between these, as wealth, health, life,\ndeath, pleasure, affliction._ And how do you know this? Because\nHellanicus affirms it in his history of the Egyptians; for as well say\nthis as that Diogenes has it in his Ethics, or Chrysippus, or Cleanthes.\nBut have you tested any of their sayings, and formed an opinion for\nyourself? Show me how you are wont to bear a storm at sea. Do you\nremember the difference between good and evil when the sail clatters,\nand some vexatious man comes to you as you are shrieking, and says--\n\n----\"Tell me, by the Gods, what you were lately saying, Is it any vice\nto be shipwrecked? Hath it anything of the nature of vice?\"\n\nWould you not lay hold of a stick and shake it in his face: _Let us\nalone, man; we are perishing, and you come to mock us!_ And do you\nremember the difference if you are accused of something and Caesar sends\nfor you? If one should come to you when you enter, pale and trembling,\nand should say, Why do you tremble, man? what is your business\nconcerned with? Doth Caesar there within dispense virtue and vice to\nthose who go in to him? _Why_, you will say; _must you too mock me in my\ncalamities?_\n\n----\"Nevertheless, tell me, O Philosopher, why you tremble--is it not\nmerely death that you are in danger of, or imprisonment, or bodily\nsuffering, or exile, or disgrace? What else? Is it any vice? or anything\nof the nature of vice?\"\n\nAnd you will reply somewhat to this effect: _Let me alone, man; my own\nevils are enough for me._\n\nAnd truly you say well, for your own evils are enough for you; which are\nmeanness, cowardice, and your false pretenses when you sat in the school\nof philosophy. Why did you deck yourself in others' glory? Why did you\ncall yourself a Stoic?\n\n4. Watch yourselves thus in the things that ye do, and ye shall see of\nwhat school ye are. And the most of you will be found Epicureans, but\nsome few Peripatetics,[4] and those but slack. For where is the proof\nthat ye hold virtue equal to all other things, or indeed superior? Show\nme a Stoic, if ye have one. Where or how can ye? But persons that repeat\nthe phrases of Stoicism, of these ye can show us any number. And do they\nrepeat those of the Epicureans any worse? and are they not equally\naccurate in the Peripatetic? Who is, then, a Stoic? As we say that a\nstatue is Pheidian which is wrought according to the art of Pheidias,\nshow me a man that is wrought according to the opinions he utters! Show\nme one that is sick and yet prosperous, in peril and prosperous, dying\nand prosperous, in exile and prosperous, in evil repute and prosperous.\nShow him to me! by the Gods! fain would I see a Stoic! And have ye none\nthat is fully wrought out; then show me at least one that is in hand to\nbe wrought--one that even leaneth towards these things. Do me this\nfavor--grudge not an old man a sight that I have never seen yet. Think\nye that I would have you show me the Zeus of Pheidias or the Athene--a\nwork all ivory and gold? Nay; but let one show me a man's soul that\nlongs to be like-minded with God, and to blame neither Gods nor men, and\nnot to fail in any effort or avoidance, and not to be wrathful nor\nenvious, nor jealous, but--for why should I make rounds to say it?--that\ndesires to become a God from a man, and in this body of ours, this\ncorpse, is mindful of his fellowship with Zeus. Show me that man. But ye\ncannot! Why, then, will ye mock yourselves and cheat others? Why wrap\nyourselves in others' garb, and go about, like thieves that steal\nclothes from the bath, with names and things that in nowise belong to\nyou?\n\n5. And now I am your teacher and ye are being taught by me. And I have\nthis aim--to perfect you, that ye be unhindered, uncompelled,\nunembarrassed, free, prosperous, happy, looking unto God alone in all\nthings great and small. And ye are here to learn these things, and to do\nthem. And wherefore do ye not finish the work, if ye have indeed such an\naim as behooves you, and if I, besides the aim, have such ability as\nbehooves me? What is here lacking? When I see a carpenter, and the wood\nlying beside him, I look for some work. And now, here is the carpenter,\nhere is the wood--what is yet lacking? Is the thing such as cannot be\ntaught? It can. Is it, then, not in our power? Yea, this alone of all\nthings is. Wealth is not in our power, nor health, nor repute, nor any\nother thing, save only the right use of appearances. This alone is by\nnature unhindered; this alone is unembarrassed. Wherefore, then, will ye\nnot make an end? Tell me the reason. For either the fault lies in me, or\nin you, or in the nature of the thing. But the thing itself is possible,\nand indeed the only thing that is in our power. It remains that I am to\nblame, or else ye are; or, to speak more truly, both of us. What will\nye, then? Let us at length begin to entertain such a purpose among us,\nand let the past be past. Only let us make a beginning: trust in me, and\nye shall see.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE GAME OF LIFE.\n\n\n1. This above all is the task of Nature--to bind and harmonize together\nthe force of the appearances of the Right and of the Useful.\n\n2. Things are indifferent, but the uses of them are not indifferent.\nHow, then, shall one preserve at once both a steadfast and tranquil\nmind, and also carefulness of things, that he be not heedless or\nslovenly? If he take the example of dice players. The numbers are\nindifferent, the dice are indifferent. How can I tell what may be thrown\nup? But carefully and skillfully to make use of what is thrown, that is\nwhere my proper business begins. And this is the great task of life\nalso, to discern things and divide them, and say, \"Outward things are\nnot in my power; to will is in my power. Where shall I seek the Good,\nand where the Evil? Within me--in all that is my own.\" But of all that\nis alien to thee call nothing good nor evil, nor profitable nor hurtful,\nnor any such term as these.\n\n3. What then? should we be careless of such things? In no wise. For\nthis, again, is a vice in the Will, and thus contrary to Nature. But be\nat once careful, because the use of things is not indifferent, and\nsteadfast and tranquil because the things themselves are. For where\nthere is aught that concerns me, there none can hinder or compel me; and\nin those things where I am hindered or compelled the attainment is not\nin my power, and is neither good nor evil; but my use of the event is\neither evil or good, and this is in my power. And hard it is, indeed, to\nmingle and reconcile together the carefulness of one whom outward things\naffect, with the steadfastness of him who regards them not. But\nimpossible, it is not; and if it is, it is impossible to be happy.\n\n4. Give me one man that cares how he shall do anything--that thinks not\nof the gaining of the thing, but thinks of his own energy.\n\n5. Chrysippus, therefore, said well--As long as future things are\nhidden from me, I hold always by whatever state is the most favorable\nfor gaining the things that are according to Nature; for God Himself\ngave it to me to make such choice. But if I knew that it were now\nordained for me to be sick, I would even move to it of myself. For the\nfoot, too, if it had intelligence, would move of itself to be mired.\n\n6. For to what end, think you, are ears of corn produced? Is it not\nthat they may become dry and parched? And the reason they are parched,\nis it not that they may be reaped? for it is not to exist for themselves\nalone that they come into the world. If, then, they had perception would\nit be proper for them to pray that they should never be reaped? since\nnever to be reaped is for ears of corn a curse. So understand that for\nmen it is a curse not to die, just as not to be ripened and not to be\nreaped. But we, since we are both the things to be reaped and are also\nconscious that we shall be reaped, have indignation thereat. For we know\nnot what we are, nor have we studied what concerns humanity as those\nthat have the care of horses study what concerns them. But Chrysantas,\nwhen just about to smite the enemy, forbore on hearing the trumpet\nsounding his recall; so much better did it seem to him to obey the\ncommander's order than to do his own will. But of us not one will follow\nwith docility the summons even of necessity, but weeping and groaning\nthe things that we suffer, we suffer, calling them our doom.[1] What\ndoom, man? If by doom you mean that which is doomed to happen to us,\nthen we are doomed in all things. But if only our afflictions are to be\ncalled doom, then what affliction is it that that which has come into\nbeing should perish? But we perish by the sword, or the wheel, or the\nsea, or the tile of a roof, or a tyrant. What matters it by what road\nthou goest down into Hades? they are all equal. But if thou wilt hear\nthe truth, the way the tyrant sends thee is the shortest. Never did a\ntyrant cut a man's throat in six months, but a fever will often be a\nyear killing him. All these things are but noise, and a clatter of empty\nnames.\n\n7. But let us do as in setting out on a voyage. What is it possible for\nme to do? This--to choose the captain, crew, the day, the opportunity.\nThen a tempest has burst upon us; but what doth it concern me? I have\nleft nothing undone that was mine to do; the problem is now another's,\nto wit, the captain's. But now the ship is sinking! and what have I to\ndo? I do only what I am able--drown without terror and screaming and\naccusing of God, but knowing that that which has come into being must\nalso perish. For I am no Immortal, but a man, a part of the sum of\nthings as an hour is of the day. Like the hour, I must arrive, and, like\nthe hour, pass away. What, then, can it matter to me how I pass\naway--whether by drowning or by a fever? for pass I must, even by some\nsuch thing. Now, this is what you shall see done by skillful\nball-players. None careth for the ball as it were a thing good or bad;\nbut only about throwing it and catching it. In this, then, there is\nrule, in this art, quickness, judgment: so that I may fail of catching\nthe ball, even if I spread out my lap, and another, if I throw it, may\ncatch it. But if I am anxious and nervous as I catch and throw, what\nkind of play is this? how shall one be steady? how shall he observe the\norder of the game? One will call \"Throw,\" \"Do not throw,\" and another,\n\"You have thrown once.\" But this is strife and not play.\n\n8. Thus Socrates knew how to play ball. How? When he jested in the\ncourt of justice. \"Tell me, Anytus,\" he said, \"how say you that I\nbelieve there is no God? The Daemons, who are they, think you? Are they\nnot sons of God, or a mixed nature between Gods and men?\" And when this\nwas admitted--\"Who, do you think, can hold that mules exist, but not\nasses?\"[2] And thus he played with the ball. And what was the ball that\nwas there thrown about among them? Life, chains, exile, a draught of\npoison, to be torn from a wife, to leave children orphans. These were\nthe things among them that they played withal; yet none the less did he\nplay, and flung the ball with proper grace and measure. And so should we\ndo also, having the carefulness of the most zealous players, and yet\nindifference, as were it merely about a ball.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHINGS ARE WHAT THEY ARE.\n\n\n1. Each thing that allures the mind or offers an advantage or is loved\nby you, remember to speak of it as it is, from the smallest things\nupward. If you love an earthen jar, then think, _I love an earthen jar_,\nfor so shall you not be troubled when it breaks. And when you kiss your\nlittle child, or wife, think, _I kiss a mortal_; and so shall you not be\ntroubled when they die.\n\n2. When you are about to take in hand some action, bethink you what it\nis that you are about to do. If you go to the bath, represent to\nyourself all that takes place there--the squirting of water, the\nslapping, the scolding, the pilfering; and then shall you take the\nmatter in hand more safely, saying straightway: _I desire to be bathed,\nand maintain my purpose according to Nature._ And even so with each and\nevery action. For thus, if aught should occur to cross you in your\nbathing, this thought shall be straightway at hand: _But not this alone\ndid I desire; but also to maintain my purpose according to Nature.\nAnd I shall not maintain it if I have indignation at what happens here._\n\n3. The first difference between the vulgar man[1] and the philosopher:\nThe one saith, _Woe is me for my child, my brother, woe for my father_;\nbut the other, if ever he shall be compelled to say, _Woe is me_, checks\nhimself, and saith, _for myself_. For nothing that the Will willeth not\ncan hinder or hurt the Will, but itself only can hurt itself. If then,\nindeed, we too incline to this, that when we are afflicted we accuse\nourselves, and recollect that nothing else than Opinion can cause us any\ntrouble or unsettlement, I swear by all the Gods we have advanced! But\nas it is, we have from the beginning traveled a different road. While we\nare still children, if haply we stumbled as we were gaping about, the\nnurse did not chide us, but beat the stone. For what had the stone done?\nOught it to have moved out of the way for your child's folly? Again, if\nwe find nothing to eat after coming from the bath, never doth the tutor\ncheck our desire, but he beats the cook. Man, we did not set thee to be\na tutor of the cook, but of our child--him shall you train, him improve.\nAnd thus, even when full-grown, we appear as children. For a child in\nmusic is he who hath not learned music, and in letters, one who hath not\nlearned letters, and in life, one undisciplined in philosophy.\n\n4. It is not things, but the opinions about the things, that trouble\nmankind. Thus Death is nothing terrible; if it were so, it would have\nappeared so to Socrates. But the opinion we have about Death, that it is\nterrible, _that_ it is wherein the terror lieth. When, therefore, we are\nhindered or troubled or grieved, never let us blame any other than\nourselves; that is to say, our opinions. A man undisciplined in\nphilosophy blames others in matters in which he fares ill; one who\nbegins to be disciplined blames himself, one who is disciplined, neither\nothers nor himself.\n\n5. Be not elated in mind at any superiority that is not of yourself. If\nyour horse were elated and should say, _I am beautiful_, that would be\ntolerable. But when you are elated and say, _I have a beautiful horse_,\nknow that it is at an excellence in your horse that you are elated.\nWhat, then, is your own? This--to make use of the appearances. So that\nwhen you deal according to Nature in the use of appearances, then shall\nyou be elated, for you will then be elated at an excellence that is your\nown.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHREE STEPS TO PERFECTION.\n\n\n1. There are three divisions of Philosophy wherein a man must exercise\nhimself who would be wise and good.[1]\n\nThe first concerns his pursuit and avoidance, so that he may not fail of\naught that he would attain, nor fall into aught that he would avoid.\n\nThe second concerns his desires and aversions, and, generally, all that\nit becomes a man to be, so that he bear himself orderly and prudently\nand not heedlessly.\n\nThe third is that which concerns security from delusion and hasty\napprehension, and, generally, the assenting to appearances.\n\nOf these the chief and most urgent is that which hath to do with the\npassions,[2] for the passions arise in no other way than by our failing\nin endeavor to attain or to avoid something. This it is which brings in\ntroubles and tumults and ill-luck and misfortune, that is the cause of\ngriefs and lamentations and envies, that makes envious and jealous men;\nby which things we become unable even to hear the doctrines of reason.\n\nThe second concerns that which is becoming to a man; for I must not be\npassionless,[3] like a statue, but maintain all relations natural and\nacquired, as a religious being, as a son, as a brother, as a father, as\na citizen.\n\nThe third is that which concerns men as soon as they are making advance\nin philosophy, which provides for the security of the two others; so\nthat not even in dreams may any appearance that approacheth us pass\nuntested, nor in wine, nor in ill-humors. This, a man may say, is beyond\nus. But the philosophers of this day, passing by the first and second\nparts of philosophy, occupy themselves in the third, caviling, and\narguing by questions, and constructing hypotheses and fallacies. For,\nthey say, when dealing with these subjects a man must guard himself from\ndelusion. Who must? The wise and good man.\n\n2. And this security is all you lack, then; the rest you have wrought\nout already? You are not to be imposed upon by money? and if you see a\nfair girl you can hold out against the appearance? and if your neighbor\ninherits a legacy you are not envious? there is now, in short, nothing\nlacking to you except to confirm what you have? Wretch! these very\nthings dost thou hear in fear and anxiety lest some one may despise\nthee, and inquiring what men say about thee. And if some one come and\ntell you that when it was discussed who was the best of the\nphilosophers, one present said, _Such a one is the greatest\nphilosopher_, your little soul will grow up from a finger's breadth to\ntwo cubits. And if another who was present said, _Nothing of the kind;\nit is not worth while to listen to him; for what does he know? he has\nmade a beginning in philosophy and no more_, you are amazed, you grow\npale, and straightway you cry out, _I will show him who I am, that I am\na great philosopher_.\n\nOut of these very things it is seen what you are; why do you desire to\nshow it by any others?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHAT A MAN MAY BE BOTH BOLD AND FEARFUL.\n\n\n1. To some it may perchance seem a paradox, this axiom of the\nphilosophers; yet let us make the best inquiry we can if it be true that\nit is possible to do all things at once with fearfulness and with\nboldness. For fearfulness seemeth in a manner contrary to boldness, and\ncontraries can never co-exist. But that which to many seemeth a paradox\nin this matter seems to me to stand somehow thus: If we affirmed that\nboth fearfulness and boldness could be used in the very same things,\nthey would justly accuse us that we were reconciling what is\nirreconcilable. But now, what is there so strange in this saying? For if\nit is sound, what hath been so often both affirmed and demonstrated,\nthat the essence of the Good is in the use of appearances, and even so\nof the Evil, and things uncontrollable by the Will have the nature\nneither of good nor of evil, what paradox do the philosophers affirm if\nthey say that in things uncontrollable by the Will, then be boldness thy\npart, and in things subject to the Will, fearfulness. For if Evil lie in\nan evil Will, then in these things alone is it right to use fearfulness.\nAnd if things uncontrollable by the Will, and that are not in our power,\nare nothing to us, then in these things we should use boldness. And thus\nshall we be at one time both fearful and bold--yea, and bold even\nthrough our fearfulness. For through being fearful in things that are\nveritably evil it comes that we shall be bold in those that are not so.\n\n2. But we, on the contrary, fall victims as deer do. When these are\nterrified and fly from the scares, whither do they turn and to what do\nthey retreat as a refuge? To the nets: and thus they perish, confusing\nthings to fear and things to be bold about. And thus do we also. Where\ndo we employ fear? In things beyond our Will. And wherein do we act\nboldly, as were there nothing to dread? In things subject to the Will.\nTo be beguiled, then, or to be rash, or to do some shameless act, or\nwith base greed to pursue some object--these things concern us no whit\nif we may only hit the mark in things beyond the Will. But where death\nis, or exile, or suffering, or evil repute, there we run away, there we\nare scared. Therefore, as it were to be looked for in those who are\nastray in the things of greatest moment, we work out our natural\nboldness into swaggering, abandonment, rashness, shamelessness; and our\nnatural fearfulness and shamefastness into cowardice and meanness, full\nof terror and trouble. For if one should transfer his fearfulness to the\nrealm of the Will, and the works thereof, straightway, together with the\nintention of fearing to do wrong, he shall have it in his power to avoid\ndoing it; but if he use it in things out of our own power and beyond the\nWill, then striving to avoid things that are in others' power, he shall\nof necessity be terrified and unsettled and troubled. For death is not\nfearful, nor pain, but the fear of pain or death. And thus we praise\nhim[1] who said:\n\n   \"Fear not to die, but fear a coward's death.\"\n\n3. It is right, then, that we should turn our boldness against death,\nand our fearfulness against the fear of death. But now we do the\ncontrary: death we flee from, but as to the state of our opinion about\ndeath we are negligent, heedless, indifferent. These things Socrates did\nwell to call bugbears. For as to children, through their inexperience,\nugly masks appear terrible and fearful; so we are somewhat in the same\nway moved towards the affairs of life, for no other cause than as\nchildren are affected by these bugbears. For what is a child? Ignorance.\nWhat is a child? That which has never learned. For when he knows these\nthings he is nowise inferior to us. What is death? A bugbear. Turn it\nround; examine it: see, it does not bite. Now or later that which is\nbody must be parted from that which is spirit, as formerly it was\nparted. Why, then, hast thou indignation if it be now? for if it be not\nnow, it will be later. And wherefore? That the cycle of the world may be\nfulfilled; for it hath need of a present and of a future and of a past.\nWhat is pain? A bugbear. Turn it about and examine it. This poor body is\nmoved harshly, then again softly. If thou hast no advantage thereof, the\ndoor is open;[2] if thou hast, then bear it. For in all events it is\nright that the door should stand open, and so have we no distress.\n\n4. Shall I, then, exist no longer? Nay, thou shalt exist, but as\nsomething else, whereof the universe hath now need.[3] For neither didst\nthou choose thine own time to come into existence, but when the universe\nhad need of thee.\n\n5. What, then, is the fruit of these opinions? That which ought to be\nthe fairest and comeliest to those who have been truly\ntaught,--tranquillity, courage, and freedom. For concerning these\nthings, the multitude are not to be believed which say that those only\nshould be taught who are freemen, but the philosophers rather, which say\nthat those only are free who have been taught. How is this? It is\nthus--Is freedom anything else than the power to live as we choose?\n_Nothing else._ Do ye choose, then, to live in sin? _We do not choose\nit._ None, therefore, that fears or grieves or is anxious is free; but\nwhosoever is released from griefs and fears and anxieties is by that\nvery thing released from slavery. How, then, shall we still believe you,\nmost excellent legislators, when ye say, \"We permit none to be taught,\nsave freemen?\"[4] for the philosophers say, \"We permit none to be free\nsave those who have been taught\"--that is, God permits it not. _So, when\na man turns round his slave before the Praetor,[5] has he done nothing?_\nHe has done something. _And what?_ He has turned round his slave before\nthe Praetor. _Nothing else at all?_ Yea, this too--he must pay for him\nthe tax of the twentieth. _What then? has the man thus treated not\ngained his freedom?_ No more than he has gained tranquillity of mind.\nFor thou, who art able to emancipate others, hast thou no master? is\nmoney not thy master, or lust, or a tyrant, or some friend of a tyrant?\nWhy, then, dost thou tremble when thou art to meet with some affliction\nin this kind? And therefore I say oftentimes, be these things your\nstudy, be these things ever at your hand, wherein ye should be bold and\nwherein fearful; bold in things beyond the Will, fearful in things\nsubject to the Will.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.[1]\n\nTHE WISE MAN'S FEAR AND THE FOOL'S.\n\n\n1. The appearances by which the mind of man is smitten with the first\naspect of a thing as it approaches the soul, are not matters of the\nwill, nor can we control them; but by a certain force of their own the\nobjects which we have to comprehend are borne in upon us. But that\nratification of them, which we name assent, whereby the appearances are\ncomprehended and judged, these are voluntary, and are done by human\nchoice. Wherefore at a sound from the heavens, or from the downfall of\nsomething, or some signal of danger, or anything else of this kind, it\nmust needs be that the soul of the philosopher too shall be somewhat\nmoved, and he shall shrink and grow pale; not through any opinion of\nevil that he has formed, but through certain rapid and unconsidered\nmotions that forestall the office of the mind and reason. Soon, however,\nthat philosopher doth not approve the appearances to be truly objects\nof terror to his soul, that is to say, he assents not to them nor\nratifies them; but he rejects them, and casts them out; nor doth there\nseem to be in them anything that he should fear. But in this, say the\nphilosophers, doth the wise man differ from the fool,--that the fool\nthinks the appearances to be in truth even so harsh and rough as they\nseemed at their first shock upon the soul; and taking them, as at first,\nto be rightly dreaded, he thus ratifies and approves them by his assent.\nThe philosopher, however, though for a short time his color and\ncountenance have been changed, doth not then assent, but he retains in\nits steadfastness and vigor the opinion he ever had of these\nappearances, that they are in no wise to be feared, but affright only by\na false show and empty threat.\n\n2. Such as is a dish of water, such is the soul; such as is the ray of\nlight that falleth on the same, such are the appearances. When the water\nis moved, then the ray seemeth also to be moved; but it is not moved.\nAnd thus when a man's mind is darkened and dizzy, it is not doctrines\nand virtues that are confounded, but the spirit on which they are\nimpressed. And if that is restored, so are they.[2]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nAPPEARANCES FALSE AND TRUE.\n\n\n1. Appearances exist for us in four ways. Either things appear even as\nthey are; or having no existence, neither do they appear to have it; or\nthey exist, and appear not; or they exist not, and yet appear. So, in\nall these cases, to hit the mark is the work of him who hath been taught\nin philosophy.\n\n2. But whatever it be that afflicts us, it is to that thing that the\nremedy is to be applied. If it is the sophisms of the Pyrrhonists and\nAcademics[1] that afflict us, to them let us apply the remedy. If it is\nthe delusiveness of things, whereby that appeareth to be good which is\nnot so, to that let us seek for the remedy. If a habit afflicts us,\nagainst that must we endeavor to find some remedy. And what remedy is to\nbe found against a habit? The contrary habit. Thou hearest the ignorant\nwhen they say, _The wretched man is dead; his father is perishing with\ngrief for him, or his mother; he was cut off, yea, and untimely, and in\na strange land_. Hearken, then, to the contrary words. Tear thyself away\nfrom such utterances. Against habit set the contrary habit. Against the\nwords of the Sophists have the maxims of philosophers and the exercise\nand constant usage of them; against the delusiveness of things have\nclear natural conceptions ever burnished and ready.\n\n3. Whenever death may appear to be an evil, have ready the thought that\nit is right to avoid evils, and that death is unavoidable. For what\nshall I do? whither shall I flee from it? Let it be granted that I am no\nSarpedon, son of Zeus, to speak in that lofty style: _I go either to do\ngreat deeds myself, or to give another the chance of doing them; though\nI myself fail I shall not grudge it to another to do nobly_.[2] Let it\nbe granted that this is above us; still can we not at least rise to the\nheight of that? And whither shall I flee from death? declare to me the\nplace; declare to me the men among whom I shall go, to whom death comes\nnever near; declare to me the charms against it. If I have none, what\nwould ye have me do? I cannot escape death--shall I not then escape the\nfear of death? shall I die lamenting and trembling? In this is the\nsource of suffering, to wish for something, and that it should not come\nto pass; and thence it is that when I am able to alter outward things at\nmy desire, I do so, but when not, I am ready to tear out the eyes of him\nthat hindereth me. For man is so made by nature that he will not bear to\nbe deprived of the Good nor to fall into the Evil. And in the end, when\nI am neither able to alter outward things nor to tear out the eyes of\nhim that hindereth me, I sit down and groan and rail on whomsoever I\ncan, Zeus and the other Gods;--for if they neglect me, what have I to do\nwith them? _Yea, but thou wilt be an impious man._ And how shall I be\nworse off than I am now? Here is the whole matter: Remember that unless\nreligion and profit meet in the same thing, religion cannot be saved in\nany man. Do not these things mightily convince of their truth?\n\n4. Let the Pyrrhonist and the Academic come and make their attack--I,\nfor my part, have no leisure for such discussions, nor am I able to\nargue in defense of general consent.[3] For if I had a suit about a\nlittle piece of land, would I not call in another to argue for me?\nWherewith shall I be satisfied? With that which concerns the matter in\nhand. How perception takes place, whether by the whole man or by parts,\nperhaps I know not how to declare: both opinions perplex me. But that\nthou and I are not the same I know very clearly. _Whence know you this?_\nNever, when I wish to eat, do I carry the morsel to another man's mouth,\nbut to my own. Never, when I wish to take a piece of bread, do I lay\nhold of a broom, but I always go to the bread, as to a mark. And ye who\ndeny the truth of perception, what do ye other than I? Which of you,\ndesiring to go to the bath, ever went into a mill? _What then? Ought we\nnot, according to our abilities, to busy ourselves with the upholding\nof general consent, and raising defenses against all that opposeth the\nsame?_ And who denies it? But let him do it that can, that hath leisure;\nbut he that trembleth, and is troubled, and his heart is broken within\nhim, let him spend his time on something different.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nHOW WE SHOULD THINK AS GOD'S OFFSPRING.\n\n\n1. If those things are true which are said by philosophers concerning\nthe kinship of God and men, what else remains for men to do than after\nSocrates' way, who never, when men inquired of him what was his native\ncountry, replied _Athens_ or _Corinth_, but _the universe_. For why wilt\nthou say thou art an Athenian, and not rather name thyself from that\nnook alone into which thy wretched body was cast at birth? Is it not\nplainly from the lordlier place, and that which contains not only that\nnook and all thy household, but also the whole land whence the race of\nthy ancestors has come down even to thee, that thou callest thyself\nAthenian or Corinthian? Whoso, therefore, hath watched the governance of\nthe universe, and hath learned that the greatest and mightiest and\namplest of all societies is that which is composed of mankind and of\nGod; and that from Him have descended the seeds not only to my father\nalone, nor to my grandfather, but to all creatures that are conceived\nand born upon the earth (but especially to reasoning beings, since to\nthese alone hath nature given it to have communion and intercourse with\nGod, being linked with Him through Reason),--wherefore should such a one\nnot name himself a citizen of the universe? wherefore not a son of God?\nwherefore shall he fear anything that may come to pass among men? And\nshall kinship with Caesar, or with some other of those that are mighty at\nRome, be enough to let us live in safety and undespised and fearing\nnothing at all; but to have God for our maker and father and guardian,\nshall this not avail to deliver us from griefs and fears?\n\n_But I have no money_, saith one; _whence shall I have bread to eat?_\n\n2. Art thou not ashamed to be more cowardly and spiritless than fugitive\nslaves are? How do they leave their masters when they run away? in what\nestates do they put their trust? in what servants? After stealing a\nlittle to serve them for the first few days, do they not afterwards\njourney by land and sea, and make their living by one device after\nanother? And when did ever any fugitive slave die of hunger? But thou\ntremblest and sleepest not of nights, for fear lest the necessaries of\nlife fail thee. Wretched man! art thou thus blind? and seest not the\nroad whither the want of necessaries leads a man? And whither leads it?\nTo the same place that a fever doth, or a falling rock--to death. Hast\nthou not often said this to thy friends? and often read aloud these\nthings, and written them? and how often hast thou vaunted thyself that\nthou wert at peace about death? _Yea, but my dear ones shall also suffer\nhunger._ What then? Doth their hunger lead to any other place than\nthine? Do they not descend where thou descendest? Is there not one\nunderworld for them and thee? Wilt thou not, then, be bold in all\npoverty and need, looking to that place whither the wealthiest of men,\nand the mightiest governors, yea, and even kings and tyrants, must go\ndown; thou, it may be, an-hungered, and they bursting with indigestion\nand drunkenness?\n\nHow seldom is it that a beggar is seen that is not an old man, and even\nof exceeding age? but freezing by night and day, and lying on the\nground, and eating only what is barely necessary, they come near to\nbeing unable to die. Canst thou not transcribe writings? canst thou not\nteach children? or be some man's door-keeper?\n\n_But it is shameful to come to such a necessity!_\n\nThen first of all learn what things are shameful, and afterwards tell\nus thou art a philosopher. But at present suffer not even another man to\ncall thee so.\n\n3. Is that shameful to thee which is not thine own doing, whereof thou\nart not the cause, which cometh to thee without thy will, like a\nheadache or a fever? If thy parents were poor, or made others their\nheirs, or are alive and give thee nothing, are these things shameful to\nthee? Is this what thou hast learnt from the philosophers? Hast thou\nnever heard that what is shameful is blamable; and that which is\nblamable ought to be blamed? But what man wilt thou blame for a work not\nhis own, one that he himself never did! And didst thou make thy father\nsuch as he is? or was it in thy power to correct him?--is it given thee\nto do this? What then? Oughtest thou to desire what is not given to\nthee? or to be ashamed if thou attain it not? Or hast thou been\naccustomed, in philosophy, to look to others, and to hope for nothing\nfrom thyself? Lament, therefore, and groan, and eat thy bread in fear,\nlest thou have nothing to eat on the morrow. Tremble for thy slaves,\nlest they steal, or run away, or die. Do thou live thus, now and ever,\nwho hast approached to the name only of philosophy, and hast brought the\nprecepts of it to shame, so far as in thee lies, showing them to be\nworthless and useless to those who adopt them; thou, who hast never\nstriven to gain steadfastness, tranquillity, peace; that never waited\nupon any man for the sake of these things, but upon many for the sake of\nlearning syllogisms; that never tested for thine own self any one of\nthese appearances:--_Am I able to bear it, or am I not able? What, then,\nremains for me to do?_ But, as though all went fairly and safely with\nthee, thou abidest in the final part of philosophy,[1] that which\nconfirms beyond all change--and wherein wilt thou be confirmed? in\ncowardice, meanness, admiration of wealth, in vain pursuit, and vain\nefforts to avoid? These are the things thou dost meditate how to\npreserve unharmed.\n\n4. Shouldst thou not first have gained something from Reason, and then\nfortified this with safety? Whom sawest thou ever building a coping\nround about, and never a wall on which to place it? And what\ndoor-keeper is set on guard where there is no door? But thy study is\nhow to prove propositions--and _what_ proposition? How the billows of\nfalse reasonings may sweep thee not away--and away from _what_? Show me\nfirst what thing thou art guarding, or measuring, or weighing; and\nafterwards the scales or the measuring-rod. Or how long wilt thou still\nbe measuring the dust? Are not these the things it behooves thee to\nprove:--what it is that makes men happy, what makes things proceed as we\nwould have them, how one should blame no man accuse no man, and fit\none's self to the ordering of the All? Yea, prove me these! _But I do\nso_, he saith. _See! I resolve you syllogisms._ Slave! this is the\nmeasuring-rod--it is not the thing measured. Wherefore now you pay the\npenalty for philosophy neglected; you tremble, you lie awake at nights,\nyou seek counsel on every hand, and if the counsels are not pleasing to\nall men you think they were ill-counseled.\n\n5. Then you fear hunger, as you suppose. But it is not hunger that you\nfear--you fear you will have no cook, nor nobody else to buy victuals\nfor you, nor another to take off your boots, nor another to put them on,\nnor others to rub you down, nor others to follow you about, so that when\nyou have stripped yourself in the bath, and stretched yourself out as if\nyou were crucified, you may be rubbed to and fro, and then the rubber\nstanding by may say, _Turn him round, give me his side, take hold of his\nhead, let me have his shoulder_; and then when you leave the bath and go\nhome you may shout, _Is no one bringing anything to eat?_ and then,\n_Take away the plates, and wipe them_. This is what you fear,--lest you\nbe not able to live like a sick man. But learn how those live that are\nin health--slaves, and laborers, and true philosophers; how Socrates\nlived, who moreover had a wife and children; how Diogenes lived; how\nCleanthes that studied in the schools and drew his own water.[2] If you\nwould have these things, they are everywhere to be had, and you will\nlive boldly. Bold in what? In that wherein alone it is possible to be\nbold--in that which is faithful, which cannot be hindered, which cannot\nbe taken away. But why hast thou made thyself so worthless and useless\nthat no one is willing to receive thee into his house or take care of\nthee? But if any utensil were thrown away, and it was sound and\nserviceable, every one that found it would pick it up and think it a\ngain; but thee no man would pick up, nor count anything but damage. So\nthou canst not so much as serve the purpose of a watch-dog, or a cock?\nWhy, then, wilt thou still live, being such a man as thou art?\n\n6. Doth any good man fear lest the means of gaining food fail him? They\nfail not the blind, nor the lame; shall they fail a good man? To the\ngood soldier there fails not one who gives him pay, nor to the laborer,\nnor to the shoemaker; and shall such a one fail to the good man? Is God,\nthen, careless of His instruments, His servants, His witnesses, whom\nalone He useth to show forth to the untaught what He is, and that He\ngoverns all things well, and is not careless of human things? and that\nto a good man there is no evil, neither in life nor in death? _How,\nthen, when He leaves them without food?_ How else is this than as when a\ngood general gives me the signal for retreat? I obey, I follow, praising\nmy leader and hymning his works. For I came when it pleased him, and\nwhen it pleases him I will go. In my lifetime also my work was to sing\nthe praise of God, both alone to myself, and to single persons, and in\npresence of many. He doth not provide me with many things, nor with\ngreat abundance of goods; He will not have me live delicately. For\nneither did He provide so for Hercules, His own son, but another man\nreigned over Argos and Mycenae, while he obeyed and labored and was\ndisciplined. And Eurystheus was what he was--no king of Argos and\nMycenae, who was not king even of himself; and Hercules was lord and\nleader of all the earth and sea, for he purged them of lawlessness and\nwrong, and brought in righteousness and holiness; naked and alone did he\nthis. And when Odysseus was shipwrecked and cast away, did his need\nhumble him one whit or break his spirit? But how did he go out to the\nmaidens, to beg for the necessaries of life, which it is held most\nshameful to seek from another?\n\n  \"Even as a lion from his mountain home,\n   So went Odysseus trusting in his valor.\"\n                          --_Odyssey_, vi. 130.\n\nTrusting in what? Not in fame, nor wealth, but in his own valor--that\nis, his opinions of the things that are and are not in our power.[3] For\nthese alone it is that make men free and unhindered; that lift up the\nheads of the abject, and bid them look rich men and tyrants steadily in\nthe face. And this was the gift of the philosopher; but thou wilt never\ngo forth boldly, but trembling for thy fine raiment and silver dishes.\nMiserable man! hast thou indeed thus wasted all thy time till now?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE OPEN DOOR.\n\n\n1. For my part I think the old man should be sitting here, not to\ndevise how ye may have no mean thoughts, nor speak no mean nor ignoble\nthings about yourselves, but to watch that there arise not among us\nyouths of such a mind, that when they have perceived their kinship with\nthe Gods, and how the flesh and its possessions are laid upon us like\nbonds, and how many necessities for the management of life are by them\nbrought upon us, they may desire to fling these things away for abhorred\nand intolerable burthens, and depart unto their kin. And this is what\nyour master and teacher--if, in sooth, ye had any such--should have to\ncontend with in you,--that ye should come to him and say, _Epictetus, we\ncan endure no longer being bound to this body, giving it food and drink,\nand resting it and cleansing it, and going about to court one man after\nanother for its sake. Are not such things indifferent and nothing to us?\nAnd is not Death no evil? Are we not in some way kinsmen of God, and did\nwe not come from Him? Let us depart to whence we came; let us be\ndelivered at last from these bonds wherewith we are bound and burthened!\nHere are robbers, and thieves, and law courts, and those that are called\ntyrants, which through the body and its possessions seem as if they had\nsome power over us. Let us show them that they have no power over any\nman!_ And to this it should be my part to say, \"My friends, wait upon\nGod. When He Himself shall give the signal and release you from this\nservice, then are ye released unto Him. But for the present, bear to\ndwell in this place, wherein He has set you. Short, indeed, is this time\nof your sojourn, and easy to bear for those that are so minded. For what\ntyrant or what thief is there any longer, or what court of law is\nterrible to one who thus makes nothing of the body and the possessions\nof it? Remain, then, and depart not without a reason.\" Some such part as\nthis should the teacher have to play towards the well-natured among his\ndisciples.\n\n2. How long, then, are such injunctions to be obeyed? So long as it is\nprofitable--that is to say, so long as I can do what becomes and befits\nme. Then some men are choleric and fastidious, and say, \"I cannot sup\nwith this man, to have to hear him every day telling how he fought in\nMysia.\" _I told you, brother, how I went up the hill--then again I began\nto be besieged_.... But another saith, \"I prefer to have my supper, and\nlisten to him prating as long as he likes.\" And do thou compare the gain\non both sides--only do naught in heaviness or affliction, or as\nsupposing that thou art in evil case. For to this no man can compel\nthee. Doth it smoke in the chamber? if it is not very much I will stay,\nif too much, I will go out; for remember this always, and hold fast to\nit, that the door is open. _Thou shalt not live in Nicopolis._ I will\nnot. _Nor in Athens._ I will not live in Athens. _Nor in Rome._ Neither\nin Rome. _Live in Gyara._[1] I will live in Gyara. But living in Gyara\nseemeth to me like a great smoke. I will depart, whither no man shall\nhinder me to dwell--for that dwelling stands ever open to all.\n\n3. Only do it not unreasonably, nor cowardly, nor make every common\nchance an excuse. For again, it is not God's will, for He hath need of\nsuch an order of things, and of such a race upon the earth. But if He\ngive the signal for retreat, as He did to Socrates, we must obey Him as\nour commander.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nKNOW THYSELF.\n\n\n1. If a man have any advantage over others, or thinks himself to have\nit when he hath it not, it cannot but be that if he is an untaught man\nhe shall be puffed up by it. Thus the tyrant says, _I am he that is\nmaster of all_. And what can you give me? Can you set my pursuit free of\nall hindrance? How is it in you to do that? For have you the gift of\nnever falling into what you shun? or never missing the mark of your\ndesire? And whence have you it? Come, now, in a ship do you trust to\nyourself or to the captain? or in a chariot, to any one else than the\ndriver?[1] And how will you do with regard to other acts? Even thus.\nWhere, then, is your power? _All men minister to me._ And do I not\nminister to my plate, and I wash it and wipe it, and drive in a peg for\nmy oil-flask? What then, are these things greater than I? Nay, but they\nsupply certain of my needs, and for this reason I take care of them.\nYea, and do I not minister to my ass? Do I not wash his feet and groom\nhim? Know you not that every man ministers to himself? And he ministers\nto you also, even as he doth to the ass. For who treats you as a man?\nShow me one that doth. Who wisheth to be like unto you? who becomes your\nimitator, as men did of Socrates? _But I can cut off thy head._ You say\nwell. I had forgotten that I must pay regard to you as to a fever or the\ncholera; and set up an altar to you, as there is in Rome an altar to\nFever.\n\n2. What is it, then, whereby the multitude is troubled and terrified?\nThe tyrant and his guards? Never--God forbid it! It is not possible that\nthat which is by nature free should be troubled by any other thing, or\nhindered, save by itself. But it is troubled by opinions of things. For\nwhen the tyrant saith to any one, _I will bind thy leg_, then he who\nsetteth store by his leg saith, _Nay, have pity!_ but he that setteth\nstore by his own Will, _If it seem more profitable to you, then bind\nit_.\n\n----\"Dost thou not regard me?\"\n\nI do not regard you. I will show you that I am master. How can you be\nthat? Me hath God set free; or think you that He would let His own Son\nbe enslaved? You are lord of my dead body--take that.\n\n----\"So when thou comest near to me, thou wilt not do me service?\"\n\nNay, but I will do it to myself; and if you will have me say that I do\nit to you also, I tell you that I do it as to my kitchen pot.\n\n3. This is no selfishness; for every living creature is so made that it\ndoth all things for its own sake. For the sun doth all things for his\nown sake, and so, moreover, even Zeus himself. But when He will be\nRaingiver and Fruitgiver and Father of Gods and men, thou seest that He\nmay not do these works and have these titles, but He be serviceable to\nthe common good. And, on the whole, He hath so formed the nature of the\nreasoning creature that he may never win aught of his own good without\nhe furnish something of service to the common good. Thus it is not to\nthe excluding of the common good that a man do all things for himself.\nFor is it to be expected that a man shall stand aloof from himself and\nhis own interest? And where then would be that same and single principle\nwhich we observe in all things, their affection to themselves?\n\n4. So, then, when we act on strange and foolish opinions of things\nbeyond the Will, as though they were good or evil, it is altogether\nimpossible but we shall do service to tyrants. And would it were to the\ntyrants alone, and not to their lackeys also!\n\n5. But what hinders the man that hath distinguished these things to live\neasily and docile, looking calmly on all that is to be, and bearing\ncalmly all that is past? Will you have me bear poverty? Come, and see\nwhat poverty is when it strikes one that knoweth how to play the part\nwell. Will you have me rule? Give me power, then, and the pains of it.\nBanishment? Whithersoever I go, it shall be well with me for in this\nplace it was well with me, not because of the place, but because of the\nopinions which I shall carry away with me. For these no man can deprive\nme of. Yea, these only are mine own, whereof I cannot be deprived, and\nthey suffice for me as long as I have them, wherever I be, or whatever I\ndo.\n\n6. ----\"But now is the time come to die.\"\n\nWhat say you? to die? Nay, make no tragedy of the business, but tell it\nas it is. Now is it time for my substance to be resolved again into the\nthings wherefrom it came together. And what is dreadful in this? What of\nthe things in the universe is about to perish? What new, or what\nunaccountable thing is about to come to pass? Is it for these things\nthat a tyrant is feared? through these that the guards seem to bear\nswords so large and sharp? Tell that to others; but by me all these\nthings have been examined; no man hath power on me. I have been set free\nby God, I know His commandments, henceforth no man can lead me captive.\nI have a liberator[2] such as I need, and judges such as I need. Are you\nnot the master of my body? What is that to me? Of my property? What is\nthat to me? Of exile or captivity? Again, I say, from all these things,\nand the poor body itself, I will depart when you will. Try your power,\nand you shall know how far it reaches.\n\n7. But the tyrant will bind--what? The leg. He will take away--what? The\nhead. What, then, can he not bind and not take away? The Will. And hence\nthat precept of the ancients--KNOW THYSELF.\n\n8. Whom, then, can I still fear? The lackeys of the bed-chamber? For\nwhat that they can do? Shut me out? Let them shut me out, if they find\nme wishing to go in.\n\n----\"Why, then, didst thou go to the doors?\"\n\nBecause I hold it proper to join the play while the play lasts.\n\n----\"How, then, shalt thou not be shut out?\"\n\nBecause if I am not received, I do not wish to enter; but always that\nwhich happens is what I wish. For I hold what God wills above what I\nwill. I cleave to Him as His servant and follower; my impulses are one\nwith His, my pursuit is one with His; in a word, my will is one with\nHis. There is no shutting out for me--nay, but for those who would force\ntheir way in. And wherefore do I not force my way? Because I know that\nno good thing is dealt out within to those that enter. But when I hear\nsome one congratulated on being honored by Caesar, I say, What hath\nfortune brought him? A government? Has it also, then, brought him such\nan opinion as he ought to have? A magistracy? Hath he also gained the\npower to be a good magistrate? Why will I still push myself forward? A\nman scatters figs and almonds abroad; children seize them, and fight\namong themselves; but not so men, for they hold it too trifling a\nmatter. And if a man should scatter about oyster-shells, not even the\nchildren would seize them. Offices of government are dealt out--children\nwill look for them; money is given--children will look for it; military\ncommands, consulships--let children scramble for them. Let them be shut\nout and smitten, let them kiss the hands of the giver, of his slaves--it\nis figs and almonds to me. What then? If thou miss them when he is\nflinging them about, let it not vex thee. If a fig fall into thy bosom,\ntake and eat it, for so far even a fig is to be valued. But if I must\nstoop down for it, and throw down another man, or another throw me down,\nand I flatter those who enter in, then neither is a fig worth so much,\nnor is any other of the things that are not good, even those which the\nphilosophers have persuaded me not to think good.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.[1]\n\nHOW WE SHOULD BEAR OURSELVES TOWARDS EVIL MEN.\n\n\n1. If that which the philosophers say is true--that there is one\nprinciple in all men, as when I assent to something, the feeling that it\nis so; and when I dissent, the feeling that it is not so; yea, and when\nI withhold my judgment, the feeling that it is uncertain; and likewise,\nwhen I am moved towards anything, the feeling that it is for my profit,\nbut it is impossible to judge one thing to be profitable and to pursue\nanother, to judge one thing right and be moved towards another--why have\nwe indignation with the multitude? _They are robbers_, one saith, _and\nthieves_. And what is it to be robbers and thieves? It is to err\nconcerning things good and evil. Shall we, then, have indignation with\nthem, or shall we pity them? Nay, but show them the error, and you shall\nsee how they will cease from their sins. But if they see it not, they\nhave naught better than the appearance of the thing to them.\n\n2. _Should not, then, this robber, or this adulterer, be destroyed?_ By\nno means, but take it rather this way: _This man who errs and is\ndeceived concerning things of greatest moment, who is blinded, not in\nthe vision which distinguisheth black and white, but in the judgment\nwhich distinguisheth Good and Evil--should we not destroy him?_ And thus\nspeaking, you shall know how inhuman is that which you say, and how like\nas if you said, _Shall we not destroy this blind man, this deaf man?_\nFor if it is the greatest injury to be deprived of the greatest things,\nand the greatest thing in every man is a Will such as he ought to have,\nand one be deprived of this, why are you still indignant with him? Man,\nyou should not be moved contrary to Nature by the evil deeds of other\nmen. Pity him rather, be not inclined to offense and hatred, abandon the\nphrases of the multitude, like \"these cursed wretches.\" How have you\nsuddenly become so wise and hard to please?\n\n3. Wherefore, then, have we indignation? Because we worship the things\nwhich they deprive us of. Do not worship fine raiment, and you shall not\nbe wroth with the thief. Do not worship the beauty of a woman, and you\nshall not be wroth with the adulterer. Know that the thief and the\nadulterer have no part in that which is thine own, but in that which is\nforeign to thee, in that which is not in thy power. These things if thou\ndismiss, and count them for naught, with whom shalt thou still be wroth?\nBut so long as thou dost value these things, be wroth with thyself\nrather than with others.\n\n4. Look now how it stands: You have fine raiment, your neighbor has not;\nyou have a window, and wish to air your clothes at it. The neighbor\nknoweth not what is the true good of man, but thinks it is to have fine\nraiment, the same thing that you also think. Then shall he not come and\ntake them away? Show a cake to greedy persons, and eat it up yourself\nalone, and will you have them not snatch at it? Nay, but provoke them\nnot. Have no window, and do not air your clothes. I also had lately an\niron lamp set beside the images of the Gods; hearing a noise at the\ndoor, I ran down, and found the lamp carried off. I reflected that the\nthief's impulse was not unnatural. What then? _To-morrow_, I said, _thou\nwilt find an earthen lamp_.[2] For a man loses only what he has. _I have\nlost a garment._ For you had a garment. _I have a pain in my head._ Have\nyou any pain in your horns? Why, then, have you indignation? For there\nis no loss and no suffering save only in those things which we possess.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nTHE VOYAGE OF LIFE.\n\n\nEven as in a sea voyage, when the ship is brought to anchor, and you go\nout to fetch in water, you make a by-work of gathering a few roots and\nshells by the way, but have need ever to keep your mind fixed on the\nship, and constantly to look round, lest at any time the master of the\nship call, and you must, if he call, cast away all those things, lest\nyou be treated like the sheep that are bound and thrown into the hold:\nSo it is with human life also. And if there be given wife and children\ninstead of shells and roots, nothing shall hinder us to take them. But\nif the master call, run to the ship, forsaking all those things, and\nlooking not behind. And if thou be in old age, go not far from the ship\nat any time, lest the master should call, and thou be not ready.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nTHE MARK OF EFFORT.\n\n\n1. Seek not to have things happen as you choose them, but rather choose\nthem to happen as they do, and so shall you live prosperously.\n\n2. Disease is a hindrance of the body, not of the Will, unless the Will\nitself consent. Lameness is a hindrance of the leg, not of the Will. And\nthis you may say on every occasion, for nothing can happen to you but\nyou will find it a hindrance not of yourself but of some other thing.\n\n3. What, then, are the things that oppress us and perturb us? What else\nthan opinions? He that goeth away and leaveth his familiars and\ncompanions and wonted places and habits--with what else is he oppressed\nthan his opinions? Now, little children, if they cry because their nurse\nhas left them for a while, straightway forget their sorrow when they are\ngiven a small cake. Wilt thou be likened unto a little child?\n\n----\"Nay, by Zeus! for I would not be thus affected by a little cake,\nbut by right opinions.\"\n\nAnd what are these?\n\nThey are such as a man should study all day long to observe--that he be\nnot subject to the effects of anything that is alien to him, neither of\nfriend, nor place, nor exercises; yea, not even of his own body, but to\nremember the Law, and have it ever before his eyes. And what is the\ndivine Law? To hold fast that which is his own, and to claim nothing\nthat is another's; to use what is given him, and not to covet what is\nnot given; to yield up easily and willingly what is taken away, giving\nthanks for the time that he has had it at his service. This do--or cry\nfor the nurse and mamma; for what doth it matter to what or whom thou\nart subject, from what thy welfare hangs? Wherein art thou better than\none who bewails himself for his mistress, if thou lament thy exercises\nand porticoes and comrades, and all such pastime? Another cometh,\ngrieving because he shall no more drink of the water of Dirce. And is\nthe Marcian water worse than that of Dirce?\n\n----\"But I was used to the other.\"\n\nAnd to this also thou shalt be used; and when thou art so affected\ntowards it, lament for it too, and try to make a verse like that of\nEuripides--\n\n  \"The baths of Nero and the Marcian stream\"[1]\n\nBehold how tragedies are made, when common chances happen to foolish\nmen!\n\n4.----\"But when shall I see Athens and the Acropolis again?\"\n\nWretched man! doth not that satisfy thee which thou seest every day?\nHast thou aught better or greater to see than the sun, the moon, the\nstars, the common earth, the sea? But if withal thou mark the way of Him\nthat governeth the whole and bear Him about within thee, wilt thou still\nlong for cut stones and a fine rock? And when thou shalt come to leave\nthe sun itself and the moon, what wilt thou do? Sit down and cry, like\nthe children? What, then, wert thou doing in the school? What didst thou\nhear, what didst thou learn? Why didst thou write thyself down a\nphilosopher, when thou mightest have written the truth, as thus:--_I\nmade certain beginnings, and read Chrysippus, but did not so much as\nenter the door of a philosopher_? For how shouldst thou have aught in\ncommon with Socrates, who died as he died, who lived as he lived--or\nwith Diogenes? Dost thou think that any of these men lamented or was\nindignant because he should see such a man or such a woman no more? or\nbecause he should not dwell in Athens or in Corinth, but, as it might\nchance, in Susa or Ecbatana? When a man can leave the banquet or the\ngame when he pleases, shall such a one grieve if he remains? Shall he\nnot, as in a game, stay only so long as he is entertained? A man of this\nstamp would easily endure such a thing as perpetual exile or sentence of\ndeath.\n\nWilt thou not now be weaned as children are, and take more solid food,\nnor cry any more after thy mother and nurse, wailing like an old woman?\n\n----\"But if I quit them I shall grieve them.\"\n\nThou grieve them? Never; but that shall grieve them which grieveth\nthee--Opinion. What hast thou then to do? Cast away thy own bad opinion;\nand they, if they do well, will cast away theirs; if not, they are the\ncauses of their own lamenting.\n\n5. Man, be mad at last, as the saying is, for peace, for freedom, for\nmagnanimity. Lift up thy head as one delivered from slavery. Dare to\nlook up to God and say: _Deal with me henceforth as thou wilt; I am of\none mind with thee; I am thine. I reject nothing that seems good to\nthee; lead me whithersoever thou wilt, clothe me in what dress thou\nwilt. Wilt thou have me govern or live privately, or stay at home, or go\ninto exile, or be a poor man or a rich? For all these conditions I will\nbe thy advocate with men--I show the nature of each of them, what it\nis._\n\nNay, but sit in a corner and wait for thy mother to feed thee.[2]\n\n6. Who would Hercules have been if he had sat at home? He would have\nbeen Eurystheus, and not Hercules. And how many companions and friends\nhad he in his journeying about the world? But nothing was dearer to him\nthan God; and for this he was believed to be the son of God, yea, and\nwas the son of God. And trusting in God, he went about purging away\nlawlessness and wrong. But thou art no Hercules, and canst not purge\naway evils not thine own? nor yet Theseus, who cleared Attica of evil\nthings? Then clear away thine own. From thy breast, from thy mind cast\nout, instead of Procrustes and Sciron, grief, fear, covetousness, envy,\nmalice, avarice, effeminacy, profligacy. And these things cannot\notherwise be cast out than by looking to God only, being affected only\nby Him, and consecrated to His commands. But choosing anything else than\nthis, thou wilt follow with groaning and lamentation whatever is\nstronger than thou, ever seeking prosperity in things outside thyself,\nand never able to attain it. For thou seekest it where it is not, and\nneglectest to seek it where it is.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nFACULTIES.\n\n\nRemember at anything that shall befall thee to turn to thyself and seek\nwhat faculty thou hast for making use of it. If thou see a beautiful\nperson, thou wilt find a faculty for that--namely, Self-mastery. If toil\nis laid upon thee, thou wilt find the faculty of Perseverance. If thou\nart reviled, thou wilt find Patience. And making this thy wont, thou\nshalt not be carried away by the appearances.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nRETURNS.\n\n\nNever in any case say, _I have lost_ such a thing, but _I have returned\nit_. Is thy child dead? it is returned. Is thy wife dead? she is\nreturned. Art thou deprived of thy estate? is not this also returned?\n\n----\"But he is wicked who deprives me of it!\"\n\nBut what is that to thee, through whom the Giver demands his own? As\nlong, therefore, as he grants it to thee, steward it like another's\nproperty, as travelers use an inn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nTHE PRICE OF TRANQUILLITY.\n\n\n1. If you would advance in philosophy you must abandon such thoughts as,\n_If I neglect my affairs I shall not have the means of living. If I do\nnot correct my servant he will be good for nothing._ For it is better to\ndie of hunger, having lived without grief and fear, than to live with a\ntroubled spirit amid abundance. And it is better to have a bad servant\nthan an afflicted mind.\n\n2. Make a beginning then in small matters. Is a little of your oil\nspilt, or a little wine stolen? Then say to yourself, _For so much peace\nis bought, this is the price of tranquillity_. For nothing can be gained\nwithout paying for it. And when you call your servant, bethink you that\nhe may not hear, or, hearing, may not obey. For him, indeed, that is not\nwell, but for you it is altogether well that he have not the power to\ntrouble your mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nA CHOICE.\n\n\nIf thou wouldst advance, be content to let people think thee senseless\nand foolish as regards external things. Wish not ever to seem wise, and\nif ever thou shalt find thyself accounted to be somebody, then mistrust\nthyself. For know that it is not easy to make a choice that shall agree\nboth with outward things and with Nature, but it must needs be that he\nwho is careful of the one shall neglect the other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nTHAT WHERE THE HEART IS THE BOND IS.\n\n\n1. Thou art a fool if thou desire wife and children and friends to live\nforever, for that is desiring things to be in thy power which are not in\nthy power, and things pertaining to others to be thine own. So also thou\nart a fool to desire that thy servant should never do anything amiss,\nfor that is desiring evil not to be evil, but something else. But if\nthou desire never to fail in any pursuit, this thou canst do. This,\ntherefore, practice to attain--namely, the attainable.\n\n2. The lord of each of us is he that hath power over the things that we\ndesire or dislike, to give or to take them away. Whosoever, then, will\nbe free, let him neither desire nor shun any of the things that are in\nothers' power; otherwise he must needs be enslaved.\n\n3. Wherefore Demetrius[1] said to Nero, _You threaten me with death,\nbut Nature threatens you_. If I am taken up with my poor body, or my\nproperty, I have given myself over to slavery, for I immediately show of\nmy own self with what I may be captured. As when a snake draws in his\nhead, I say, _Strike at that part of him which he guards_. And know\nthou, that at the part thou desirest to guard, there thy master will\nfall upon thee. Remembering this, whom wilt thou still flatter or fear?\n\n4. Think that thou shouldst conduct thyself in life as at a feast. Is\nsome dish brought to thee? Then put forth thyself in seemly fashion.\nDoth it pass thee by? Then hold it not back. Hath it not yet come? Then\ndo not reach out for it at a distance, but wait till it is at thine\nhand. And thus doing with regard to children and wife and governments\nand wealth, thou wilt be a worthy guest at the table of the Gods. And if\nthou even pass over things that are offered to thee, and refuse to take\nof them, then thou wilt not only share the banquet, but also the\ndominion of the Gods. For so doing Diogenes and Heracleitus, and the\nlike, both were, and were reported to be, rightly divine.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTHAT WE LAMENT NOT FROM WITHIN.\n\n\nWhen thou seest one lamenting in grief because his son is gone abroad,\nor because he hath lost his goods, look to it that thou be not carried\naway by the appearance to think that he hath truly fallen into\nmisfortune, in outward things. But be the thought at hand, _It is not\nthe thing itself that afflicts this man--since there are others whom it\nafflicts not--but the opinion he has about it_. And so far as speech, be\nnot slow to fit thyself to his mood, and even if so it be to lament with\nhim. But have a care that thou lament not also from within.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nTHAT A MAN MAY ACT HIS PART BUT NOT CHOOSE IT.\n\n\n1. Remember that thou art an actor in a play, of such a part as it may\nplease the director to assign thee; of a short part if he choose a short\npart; of a long one if he choose a long. And if he will have thee take\nthe part of a poor man, or of a cripple, or a governor, or a private\nperson, mayest thou act that part with grace! For thine it is to act\nwell the allotted part, but to choose it is another's.\n\n2. Say no more then, _How will it be with me?_ for however it be thou\nwilt settle it well, and the issue shall be fortunate. What would\nHercules have been had he said, _How shall I contrive that a great lion\nmay not appear to me, or a great boar, or a savage man?_ And what hast\nthou to do with that? if a great boar appear, thou wilt fight the\ngreater fight; if evil men, thou wilt clear the earth of them. _But if I\ndie thus?_ Thou wilt die a good man, in the accomplishing of a noble\ndeed. For since we must by all means die, a man cannot be found but he\nwill be doing somewhat, either tilling or digging or trading or\ngoverning, or having an indigestion or a diarrhoea. What wilt thou,\nthen, that Death shall find thee doing? I, for my part, will choose some\nwork, humane, beneficent, social, noble. But if I am not able to be\nfound doing things of this greatness, then, at least, I will be doing\nthat which none can hinder me to do, that which is given to me to\ndo--namely, correcting myself, bettering my faculty for making use of\nappearances, working out my peace, giving what is due in every\nobligation of life; and if I prosper so far, then entering upon the\nthird topic of philosophy, which concerneth the security of judgments.\n\n3. If Death shall find me in the midst of these studies, it shall\nsuffice me if I can lift up my hands to God and say, _The means which\nthou gavest me for the perceiving of thy government, and for the\nfollowing of the same, have I not neglected: so far as in me lies, I\nhave not dishonored thee. Behold how I have used my senses, and my\nnatural conceptions. Have I ever blamed thee? was I ever offended at\naught that happened, or did I desire it should happen otherwise? Did I\never desire to transgress my obligations? That thou didst beget me I\nthank thee for what thou gavest. I am content that I have used thy gifts\nso long. Take them again, and set them in what place thou wilt, for\nthine were all things, and thou gavest them me._\n\n4. Is it not enough to depart in this condition? and what life is better\nand fairer than one like this, and what end more happy?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nDISTINCTIONS.\n\n\n1. When a raven croaks you a bad omen, be not carried away by the\nappearance; but straightway distinguish with yourself and say, _None of\nthese things bodes aught to myself, but either to this poor body or this\nwretched property of mine, or to my good repute, or to my children, or\nto my wife. But to me all omens are fortunate if I choose to have it so.\nFor whatever of these things may come to pass, it lies with me to have\nit serve me._\n\n2. You may be always victorious if you will never enter into any contest\nbut where the victory depends upon yourself.\n\n3. When you shall see a man honored above others, or mighty in power, or\notherwise esteemed, look to it that thou deem him not blessed, being\ncarried away by the appearance. For if the essence of the Good be in\nthose things that are in our own power, then neither envy nor jealousy\nhave any place, nor thou thyself shalt not desire to be commander or\nprince or consul, but to be free. And to this there is one road--scorn\nof the things that are not in our own power.\n\n4. Remember, it is not he that strikes or he that reviles that doth any\nman an injury, but the opinion about these things, that they are\ninjurious. When, then, some one may provoke thee to wrath, know that it\nis thine own conception which hath provoked thee. Strive, therefore, at\nthe outset not to be carried away by the appearance; for if thou once\ngain time and delay, thou wilt more easily master thyself.\n\n5. Death and exile, and all things that appear dreadful, let these be\nevery day before thine eyes. But Death most of all; for so thou wilt\nneither despise nor too greatly desire any condition of life.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nTHAT A MAN IS SUFFICIENT TO HIMSELF.\n\n\n1. If thou set thine heart upon philosophy, prepare straightway to be\nlaughed at and mocked by many who will say, _Behold, he has suddenly\ncome back to us a philosopher_; or, _How came you by that brow of\nscorn?_ But do thou cherish no scorn, but hold to those things that seem\nto thee the best, as one set by God in that place. Remember, too, that\nif thou abide in that way, those that first mocked thee, the same shall\nafterwards reverence thee; but if thou yield to them, thou shalt receive\ndouble mockery.\n\n2. If it shall ever happen to thee to be turned to outward things in the\ndesire to please some person, know that thou hast lost thy way of life.\nLet it be enough for thee in all things to _be_ a philosopher. But if\nthou desire also to seem one, then seem so to thyself, for this thou\ncanst.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nTHAT EVERY MAN FULFILL HIS OWN TASK.\n\n\n1. Let such thoughts never afflict thee as, _I shall live unhonored,\nand never be anybody anywhere_. For if lack of honor be an evil, thou\ncanst no more fall into evil through another's doings than into vice. Is\nit, then, of thy own doing to be made a governor, or invited to feasts?\nBy no means. How, then, is this to be unhonored? How shouldst thou\n_never be anybody anywhere_, whom it behooves to be somebody only in the\nthings that are in thine own power, wherein it lies with thee to be of\nthe greatest worth?\n\n2. _But I shall not be able to serve my friends._ How sayst thou? to\nserve them? They shall not have money from thee, nor shalt thou make\nthem Roman citizens. Who, then, told thee that these were of the things\nthat are in our power, and not alien to us? And who can give that which\nhimself hath not?\n\n3. _Acquire, then_, they say, _that we may possess_. If I can acquire,\nand lose not piety, and faith, and magnanimity withal, show me the way,\nand I will do it. But if ye will have me lose the good things I possess,\nthat ye may compass things that are not good at all, how unjust and\nunthinking are ye? But which will ye rather have--money, or a faithful\nand pious friend? Then, rather take part with me to this end; and ask me\nnot to do aught through which I must cast away those things.\n\n4. _But_, he saith, _I shall not do my part in serving my country_.\nAgain, what is this service? Thy country shall not have porticos nor\nbaths from thee, and what then? Neither hath she shoes from the smith,\nnor arms from the cobbler; but it is enough if every man fulfill his own\ntask. And if thou hast made one other pious and faithful citizen for\nher, art thou, then, of no service? Wherefore, neither shalt thou be\nuseless to thy country.\n\n5. _What place, then_, he saith, _can I hold in the State_? Whatever\nplace thou canst, guarding still thy faith and piety. But if in wishing\nto serve her thou cast away these things, what wilt thou profit her\nthen, when perfected in shamelessness and faithlessness?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nTHE WORLD'S PRICE FOR THE WORLD'S WORTH.\n\n\n1. Is some one preferred before thee at a feast, or in salutation, or in\nbeing invited to give counsel? Then, if these things are good, it\nbehooves thee rejoice that he hath gained them; but if evil, be not\nvexed that thou hast not gained them; but remember that if thou act not\nas other men to gain the things that are not in our own power, neither\ncanst thou be held worthy of a like reward with them.\n\n2. For how is it possible for him who will not hang about other men's\ndoors to have a like reward with him who doth so? or him who will not\nattend on them with him who doth attend? or him who will not flatter\nthem with the flatterer? Thou art unjust, then, and insatiable, if thou\ndesire to gain those things for nothing, without paying the price for\nwhich they are sold.\n\n3. But how much is a lettuce sold for? A penny, perchance. If any one,\nthen, will spend a penny, he shall have lettuce; but thou, not spending,\nshalt not have. But think not thou art worse off than he; for as he has\nthe lettuce, so thou the penny which thou wouldst not give.\n\n4. And likewise in this matter. Thou art not invited to some man's\nfeast? That is, for thou gavest not to the host the price of the supper;\nand it is sold for flattery, it is sold for attendance. Pay, then, the\nprice, if it will profit thee, for which the thing is sold. But if thou\nwilt not give the price, and wilt have the thing, greedy art thou and\ninfatuated.\n\n5. Shalt thou have nothing, then, instead of the supper? Thou shalt have\nthis--not to have praised one whom thou hadst no mind to praise, and not\nto have endured the insolence of his door-keepers.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nAIMS OF NATURE.\n\n\n1. The will of Nature is to be learned from matters which do not concern\nourselves.[1] Thus, when a boy may break the cup of another man, we are\nready to say, _It is a common chance_. Know, then, that when thine own\nis broken, it behooves thee to be as though it were another man's. And\napply this even to greater things. Has another man's child died, or his\nwife? who is there that will not say, _It is the lot of humanity_. But\nwhen his own may die, then straightway it is, _Alas, wretched that I\nam!_ But we should bethink ourselves what we felt on hearing of others\nin the same plight.\n\n2. As a mark is not set up to be missed, even so the nature of evil\nexists not in the universe.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nTHE MIND'S SECURITY.\n\n\nIf any one should set your body at the mercy of every passer-by, you\nwould be indignant. When, therefore, you set your own mind at the mercy\nof every chance, to be troubled and perturbed when any one may revile\nyou, have you no shame of this?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\nTHAT A MAN SHOULD BE ONE MAN.\n\n\n1. In every work you will take in hand mark well what must go before and\nwhat must follow, and so proceed. For else you shall at first set out\neagerly, as not regarding what is to follow; but in the end, if any\ndifficulties have arisen, you will leave it off with shame.\n\n2. So you wish to conquer in the Olympic games? And I, too, by the Gods;\nand a fine thing it would be. But mark the prefaces and the\nconsequences, and then set to work. You must go under discipline, eat by\nrule, abstain from dainties, exercise yourself at the appointed hour, in\nheat or cold, whether you will or no, drink nothing cold, nor wine at\nwill; in a word, you must give yourself over to the trainer as to a\nphysician. Then in the contest itself there is the digging race,[1] and\nyou are like enough to dislocate your wrist, or turn your ankle, to\nswallow a great deal of dust, to be soundly drubbed, and after all these\nthings to be defeated.\n\n3. If, having considered these things, you are still in the mind to\nenter for the contest, then do so. But without consideration you will\nturn from one thing to another like a child, who now plays the wrestler,\nnow the gladiator, now sounds the trumpet, then declaims like an actor;\nand so you, too, will be first an athlete, then a gladiator, then an\norator, then a philosopher, and nothing with your whole soul; but as an\nape you will mimic everything you see, and be charmed with one thing\nafter another. For you approached nothing with consideration nor\nregularity, but rashly, and with a cold desire.\n\n4. And thus some men, having seen a philosopher, and heard discourse\nlike that of Euphrates[2] (yet who indeed can say that any discourse is\nlike his?), desire that they also may become philosophers.\n\n5. But, O man! consider first what it is you are about to do, and then\ninquire of your own nature whether you can carry it out. Will you be a\npentathlos,[3] or a wrestler? Then, scan your arms and thighs; try your\nloins. For different men are made for different ends.\n\n6. Think you, you can be a sage, and continue to eat and drink and be\nwrathful and take offense just as you were wont? Nay, but you must watch\nand labor, and withdraw yourself from your household, and be despised by\nany serving boy, and be ridiculed by your neighbors, and take the lower\nplace everywhere, in honors, in authority, in courts of justice, in\ndealings of every kind.[4]\n\n7. Consider these things--whether you are willing at such a price to\ngain peace, freedom, and an untroubled spirit. And if not, then attempt\nit not, nor, like a child, play now the philosopher, then the\ntax-gatherer, then the orator, then the Procurator of Caesar. For these\nthings agree not among themselves; and, good or bad, it behooves you to\nbe one man. You should be perfecting either your own ruling faculty, or\nyour outward well-being; spending your art either on the life within or\nthe life without; that is to say, you must hold your place either among\nthe sages or the vulgar.\n\nEND OF BOOK II.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK III._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nOBLIGATIONS.\n\n\n1. Obligations are universally defined by the bonds of relation. Is such\na man your father? Then it is implied that you are to take care of him,\nto give place to him in all things, to bear his rebukes, his\nchastisement. _But if he be a bad father?_ Were you then related by any\nlaw of Nature to a good father? Nay, but simply to a father. Your\nbrother does you wrong. Then guard your own place towards him, nor\nscrutinize what he is doing, but what you may do to keep your will in\naccord with Nature. For none other shall hurt you, if yourself choose it\nnot, but you shall be hurt then when you conceive yourself to be so.\n\n2. Thus shall you discover your obligations from the offices of a\nneighbor, a citizen, a general, if you will accustom yourself to watch\nthe relationships.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nAGAINST EPICURUS.\n\n\n1. Even Epicurus is conscious that we are by nature social, but having\nonce placed the Good in the husk,[1] he cannot thereafter speak anything\nbut what agrees with this; for again he affirms, and rightly affirms,\nthat nothing is to be admired or received that is separated from the\nnature of the Good. How, then, Epicurus, do you suspect that we are\nsocial, if Nature had given us no affection for our offspring?[2]\nWherefore do you counsel the sage against bringing up children? Why do\nyou fear lest he fall into sorrow by so doing? Doth he fall into sorrow\nfor the mouse that lives in his house? What careth he if a little mouse\ncomplain to him at home. But he knows well that if a little child be\nborn, it is no longer in our power not to love it and be anxious for it.\n\n2. Thus, too, he saith that no man of sense will take part in affairs\nof the state, for he knows what he who takes part in them must do; but\nwhat should hinder one to take part, if he may behave among men as in a\nswarm of flies? But Epicurus, knowing these things, dares to say that we\nshould not rear up our children. But even a sheep will not desert its\nyoung, nor a wolf; and shall a man? _What! will you have us to be silly\ncreatures, like the sheep?_ Yet they desert not their young. _Or savage,\nlike wolves?_ Yet even they desert them not. Come, then, who would obey\nyou if he saw his little child fall on the ground and cry? For my part,\nI suppose that had it been prophesied to your mother and your father\nthat you would say these things, not even so would they have cast you\nout.\n\n3. _But how can it be said of these outward things_[3] _that they are\naccording to Nature, or contrary to Nature?_ That is to speak as if we\nwere solitary and disunited from others. For to the foot I shall say it\nis according to Nature that it be clean; but if you take it as a foot,\nand not as a solitary thing, it shall beseem it to go into the mud, and\nto tread on thorns, and perchance to be cut off, for the sake of the\nwhole; otherwise it is no longer a foot.\n\n4. And some such thing we should suppose about ourselves also. What art\nthou? A man. Look at thyself as a solitary creature, and it is according\nto Nature to live to old age, to grow rich, to keep good health. But if\nthou look at thyself as a man, and as a part of a certain Whole, for the\nsake of that Whole it may become thee now to have sickness, now to sail\nthe seas and run into peril, now to suffer need, and perchance to die\nbefore thy time.\n\n5. Why, then, dost thou bear it hard? Knowest thou not, that as the foot\nalone is not a foot, so thou alone art not a man? For what is a man? A\npart of a polity, first of that which is made up of Gods and men; then\nof that which is said to be next to the other, which is a small copy of\nthe Universal Polity.\n\n6. _Then must I now be brought to trial, and now must another have a\nfever, and another sail the seas, another die, another be sentenced?_\nYea, for with such a body, in the bounds of such a universe, in such a\nthrong of inhabitants, it cannot be but that different things of this\nnature should fall on different persons. This is thy task, then, having\ncome into the world, to speak what thou shouldst, and to order these\nthings as it is fitting.\n\n7. Then some one saith, _I charge you with wrong-doing_. Much good may\nit do thee! I have done my part--look to it thyself if thou have done\nthine, for of this too there is some danger, lest it escape thee.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nAGAINST THE EPICUREANS AND ACADEMICS.\n\n\n1. Beliefs which are sound and manifestly true are of necessity used\neven by those who deny them. And perhaps a man might adduce this as the\ngreatest possible proof of the manifest truth of anything, that those\nwho deny it are compelled to make use of it. Thus, if a man should deny\nthat there is anything universally true, it is clear that he is obliged\nto affirm the contrary, the negation--that there is nothing universally\ntrue. Slave! not even this--for what is this but to say that if there is\nanything universal it is falsehood?\n\n2. Again, if one should come and say, _Know that nothing can be known,\nbut all things are incapable of proof; or another, Believe me, and it\nshall profit thee, that no man ought to believe any man_; or again,\nanother, _Learn from me, O man, that it is not possible to learn\nanything, and I tell thee this, and I will teach thee, if thou\nwilt_--now wherein do such men differ from those--whom shall I\nsay?--those who call themselves Academics? _Assent, O men, that no man\ncan assent to aught; believe us that no man can believe any one._\n\n3. Thus Epicurus, when he would abolish the natural fellowship of men\nwith one another, employeth the very thing that is being abolished. For\nwhat saith he? _Be not deceived, O men, nor misguided nor\nmistaken--there is no natural fellowship among reasoning beings, believe\nme; and those who speak otherwise deceive us with sophisms._ What is\nthat to thee? let us be deceived! Will it be the worse for thee if all\nother men are persuaded that we have a natural fellowship with one\nanother, and that we should in all ways maintain it? Nay--but much the\nbetter and safer. Man, why dost thou take thought for us, and watch at\nnight for our sakes? Why dost thou kindle thy lamp and rise early? why\ndost thou write so many books, lest any of us should be deceived about\nthe Gods, in supposing that they cared for men? or lest any one should\ntake the essence of the Good to be anything else than Pleasure? For if\nthese things are so, then lie down and sleep, and live the life of a\nworm, wherefor thou hast judged thyself fit; eat and drink and cohabit\nand ease thyself and snore. What is it to thee how other men think\nconcerning these matters, whether soundly or unsoundly? What hast thou\nto do with us? With sheep hast thou some concern, for that they serve us\nwhen they are shorn, and when they are milked, and at last when they\nhave their throats cut. Were it not, then, to be desired, if men could\nbe lulled and charmed to slumber by the Stoics, and give themselves to\nthee and the like of thee, to be shorn and milked? These things shouldst\nthou say to thy brother Epicureans; but shouldst thou not keep them\nhidden from other men, and seek in every way to persuade them above all\nthings that we are by nature social, and that temperance is good; in\norder that everything may be kept for thee? Or should we preserve this\nfellowship with some and not with others? With whom, then, should we\npreserve it? With those who also preserve it towards us, or with those\nwho transgress it? And who transgress it more than ye, who set forth\nsuch doctrines?\n\n4. What, then, was it that roused up Epicurus from his sleep, and\ncompelled him to write the things he wrote? What else than Nature, the\nmightiest of all powers in humanity? Nature, that drags the man,\nreluctant and groaning, to her will. _For_, saith she, _since it seems\nto thee that there is no fellowship among men, write this down, and\ndeliver it to others, and watch and wake for this, and be thyself by\nthine own deed the accuser of thine own opinions_. Shall we, then, say\nthat Orestes was driven by the Furies and aroused from sleep, and did\nnot crueller Furies and Avengers rouse this man as he slumbered, and\nsuffered him not to rest, but compelled him, as madness and wine the\npriests of Cybele,[1] to proclaim his own evils? So mighty and\ninvincible a thing is man's nature.\n\n5. For how can a vine be affected, and not in the manner of a vine, but\nof an olive? Or how, again, can an olive be affected not in the manner\nof an olive but of a vine? It is impossible, it cannot be conceived.\nNeither, then, is it possible for a man wholly to lose the affections of\nhumanity, for even eunuchs cannot cut away for themselves the desires\nof men. And thus Epicurus has cut away all that belongs to a man as\nfather of a family, and as citizen, and as friend; but the desires of\nhumanity he hath not cut away, for he could not; no more than these\npitiful Academics are able to cast away or to blind their own\nperceptions, although this is the thing that they have striven with all\ntheir zeal to do.\n\n6. How shameful is this! that a man having received from Nature measures\nand canons for the recognition of truth, should study not to add to them\nand perfect them where they are wanting, but the very contrary of this;\nif there be anything that may lead us to the knowledge of the truth,\nthey strive to abolish and destroy it.\n\n7. What sayest thou, philosopher? religion and holiness, what dost thou\ntake them for?[2]\n\n----\"If thou wilt, I shall prove that they are good.\"\n\nSo be it; prove it then, in order that our citizens may be converted and\nhonor the Divinity, and be no longer neglectful of the greatest things.\n\n----\"Now hast thou received the proofs?\"\n\nI have, and am thankful therefor.\n\n8.----\"Now since thou art exceedingly well pleased with these things,\nhear the contrary: There are no Gods, or if there be, they have no care\nfor men, nor have we any communion with them; and this religion and\nholiness, whereof the multitude babble, is the lying of impostors and\nsophists, or of legislators, by Zeus! for the frighting and restraining\nof evil-doers.\"\n\nWell said, philosopher! the citizens shall have much profit of thee!\nthou hast already brought back all our youths to the contempt of sacred\nthings.\n\n----\"What now? are these doctrines not pleasing to thee? Learn, then,\nthat Righteousness is nothing, that Reverence is folly, that a father is\nnothing, a son nothing.\"\n\nWell said, philosopher! proceed, persuade the young, that we may\nmultiply the number of those who believe and speak with thee. From these\nteachings have grown our well-governed States, from these did Sparta\nspring, and these beliefs, by his laws and discipline, did Lycurgus\nplant among his people:--That slavery is no more base than honorable,\nnor to be free men more honorable than base. Through these opinions died\nthose who fell at Thermopylae, and through what others did the Athenians\nforsake their city?[8]\n\n9. Then those who speak such things marry, and beget children, and take\npart in public affairs, and make themselves priests and augurs--of what?\nOf beings that do not exist! and they question the Pythian oracle that\nthey may learn falsehoods; and they declare the oracles to others. O\nmonstrous impudence and imposture!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nON SLAVERY.\n\n\n1. A certain man having inquired how one may make his meals in a manner\npleasing to the Gods, If he do it uprightly, said Epictetus, and\nconsiderately, and equably, and temperately, and orderly, shall it not\nalso be thus pleasing to the Gods? But when you ask for hot water, and\nthe boy does not hear, or, hearing, brings it only luke-warm; or if he\nis not even to be found in the house, then is it not pleasing to the\nGods if you refrain from indignation, and do not burst with passion?\n_How shall one endure such fellows?_ Wretch, wilt thou not bear with\nthine own brother, who is of the progeny of Zeus, like a son sprung of\nthe same seed as thyself, and of the same heavenly descent, but thou\nmust straightway make thyself a tyrant, for the place of command in\nwhich thou art set? Wilt thou not remember who thou art, and whom thou\nrulest--that they are kinsmen, brethren by nature, the progeny of Zeus?\n_But I have bought them, and they have not bought me!_ Seest thou, then,\nwhither thou art looking--towards the earth, towards the pit of\nperdition, towards these miserable laws of dead men? but towards the\nlaws of the Gods thou dost not look.\n\n2. That which thou wouldst not suffer thyself, seek not to lay upon\nothers. Thou wouldst not be a slave--look to it that others be not\nslaves to thee. For if thou endure to have slaves, it seems that thou\nthyself art first of all a slave. For virtue hath no communion with vice\nnor freedom with slavery.\n\n3. As one who is in health would not choose to be served by the sick,\nnor that those dwelling with him should be sick, so neither would one\nthat is free bear to be served by slaves, or that those living with him\nshould be slaves.[1]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTO THE ADMINISTRATOR OF THE FREE CITIES, WHO WAS AN EPICUREAN.\n\n\n1. The Administrator[1] having visited him (and this man was an\nEpicurean), It is proper, said Epictetus, that ignorant people like us\nshould inquire of you that are philosophers (as men who come into a\nstrange city make inquiry of the citizens and those familiar with the\nplace) what is the chief thing in the world, to the end that, having\nlearned it, we may go in search of it, and behold it, as men do with\nobjects in the cities.\n\n2. Now, that there are three things with which man is concerned--soul,\nand body, and the outer world--scarce any one will deny. It remaineth,\nthen, for men like ye to answer which is the chief of these things? What\nshall we declare to men? Is it the flesh? And was it for this that\nMaximus sent forth his son, and sailed with him through the tempest as\nfar as Cassiope,[2] for somewhat that he should feel in the flesh?\n\n3. But the Epicurean denying this, and saying, _God forbid_, Epictetus\nsaid:\n\nIs it not fit, then, that we should be zealous about that, the chief\nthing?\n\n----\"Of all things most fit.\"\n\nWhat, then, have we greater than the flesh?\n\n----\"The soul,\" he said.\n\nAnd the good of the chief thing, is it greater than the good of the\nlower thing?\n\n----\"The good of the chief thing is greater.\"\n\nAnd the good things of the soul, are they in the power of the Will, or\nbeyond the Will?\n\n----\"They are in the power of the Will.\"\n\nThe pleasure of the soul, then, is within the power of the Will?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd this pleasure itself, whence may it arise? From itself? But this is\ninconceivable; for we must suppose some original substance of the Good,\nwhereof the soul doth make us sensible when we light upon it.\n\nThis, too, he admitted.\n\nWherein, then, are we sensible of this spiritual pleasure? for if it be\nin spiritual things, the nature of the Good is discovered. For the Good\ncannot be something different from the thing that justly delights us;\nnor, if the original thing be not good, can aught be good that proceeds\nfrom it; for, in order that the thing proceeding may be good, the\noriginal thing must be good also. But this ye would never say, if ye had\nyour wits, for so ye would speak things that agree not with Epicurus and\nthe rest of your opinions. It remains, then, that we are conscious in\nbodily things of this pleasure of the soul, and again, that these are\nthe original things and the very substance of the Good.[3]\n\n4. Wherefore Maximus did foolishly if he made his voyage for the sake of\nanything else than the flesh; that is, than the chief thing. And any man\ndoth foolishly who restraineth himself from others' good, if he be a\njudge, and able to take them. But, if you please, let us regard this\nonly, how it may be done secretly and safely, and so that none may know\nit. For neither does Epicurus himself declare stealing to be bad, but\nonly to be caught stealing; and because it is impossible to be certain\nof no discovery, therefore he saith, _Ye shall not steal_. But I say\nthat if we steal with skill and discretion, we shall not be caught. And,\nmoreover, if we have powerful friends among men and women at Rome, and\nthe Greeks are feeble, no one will dare to go thither on this score. Why\ndo you refrain from your own good? This is foolish--this is absurd. But\nnot even if you tell me you do refrain will I believe you. For, as it is\nimpossible to assent to anything that appeareth to be a falsehood or to\nturn away from what appeareth to be true, even so it is impossible to\nwithhold oneself from anything that appeareth to be good. But riches are\na good, and, at all events, the most potent means of pleasure.\nWherefore, then, not compass them? And why not corrupt our neighbor's\nwife, if we may do it secretly? and also, if the husband talk nonsense\nabout it, let us fling him out! If you will be a true and perfect\nphilosopher, and obedient to your own doctrines, thus must you do; but\nif you do not, you differ no whit from us that are called Stoics. For\ntruly we ourselves say one thing and do another; we speak fair and\nhonest things, and do vile ones. But the opposite distemper will be\nthine--a vile creed and honorable deeds.\n\n5. And you think, God help you! of a city of Epicureans? _I do not\nmarry. Nor I; for it is not right to marry, nor beget children, nor take\npart in public affairs._ What will come to pass then? Whence shall we\nhave citizens? who shall educate them? who shall be the overseer of\nyouth?[4] who the director of gymnastics? and how shall the youth be\ntrained up? as the Lacedaemonians? or as the Athenians? Take me a youth,\nand bring him up after these doctrines of thine! Evil are they,\nsubversive of States, mischievous to households, unbecoming to women.\nAbandon them, man! Thou dwellest in a chief city; it is thy part to\nrule, to judge righteously, to refrain from other men's goods; nor must\nany woman seem beautiful to thee save thine own wife, nor vessel of gold\nor silver. Seek for doctrines in harmony with these words, from which\nsetting out thou mayest with gladness abandon things so potent to\nattract and overcome. But if beside the seduction of these things we\nhave sought out some philosophy like this that pushes us towards them,\nand confirms us in them, what shall come of it?\n\n6. In the graver's work, which is the chief thing? the silver or the\nart? The substance of the hand is flesh, but the main things are the\nworks of the hand. The obligations, therefore, are also three--those\nthat concern us, firstly, in that we are; and secondly, as we are; and\nthirdly, the main things themselves. And thus in man, too, it is not\nmeet to value the material, this flesh, but the main things. What are\nthese? To take part in public affairs, to marry, to beget children, to\nfear God, to care for parents, and, in general, to pursue, to avoid, to\ndesire, to dislike, as each of these things should be done, as Nature\nmade us to do. And how made she us? To be free, generous, pious. For\nwhat other creature blushes? what other is capable of the sense of\nshame?\n\n7. And to these things let Pleasure be subject as a minister, a servant,\nthat she may summon forth our ardor, and that she also may aid in works\nthat are according to Nature.[5]\n\n8. ----\"But I am a wealthy man, and have no need of aught.\"\n\nWhy, then, dost thou profess philosophy? Thy vessels of gold and vessels\nof silver are enough for thee; what need hast thou of doctrines?\n\n----\"But I am also a judge of the Greeks!\"\n\nDost thou know how to judge--who made thee know?\n\n----\"Caesar wrote me a commission.\"\n\nLet him write thee a commission to be a judge of music, and what help\nwill it be to thee? And how didst thou become a judge? by kissing of\nwhat man's hand? Was it that of Symphorus or Numenius? Before whose\nbed-chamber didst thou sleep? To whom didst thou send gifts? Dost thou\nnot perceive, then, that to be a judge is worth just as much as Numenius\nis worth?\n\n----\"But I can cast into prison whom I will.\"\n\nAs if he were a stone.\n\n----\"But I can flog any man I will.\"\n\nAs if he were an ass. This is no government of men. Rule us as reasoning\nbeings; show us what is for our good, and we shall follow it; show us\nwhat is for our ill, and we shall turn away from it; make us emulators\nof thyself, as Socrates made his disciples. He, indeed, was one that\ngoverned men as men, who made them subject unto him in their pursuit and\ntheir avoidance, their desire and dislike. _Do this, do not this, or I\nwill cast thee into prison._ This is not the rule of reasoning beings.\nBut, _As Zeus hath ordered, so do thou act; but if thou dost not, thou\nshall suffer loss and hurt_. What hurt? _None other than this--not to\nhave done what it behooved thee to do. Thou shall lose faith, piety,\ndecency--look for no greater injuries than these._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nON STATECRAFT.\n\n\n1. Not with the stones of Euboea and Sparta let the structure of your\ncity walls be variegated; but let the discipline and teaching that comes\nfrom Greece penetrate with order the minds of citizens and statesmen.\nFor with the thoughts of men are cities well established, and not with\nwood and stone.\n\n2. If thou wouldst have a household well established, then follow the\nexample of the Spartan Lycurgus. For even as he did not fence the city\nwith walls, but fortified the inhabitants with virtue, and so preserved\nthe city free for ever, thus do thou not surround thyself with a great\ncourt and set up lofty towers, but confirm the dwellers in the house\nwith good-will, and faith, and friendliness, and no harmful thing shall\nenter; no, not if the whole army of evil were arrayed against it.\n\n3. Which of us will not admire Lycurgus, the Lacedaemonian? For having\nlost an eye at the hands of one of the citizens, and having received the\nyoung man from the people that he should punish him as he would, he\nrefrained from this; but having taught him and proved him to be a good\nman, he brought him into the theater. And when the Lacedaemonians\nmarveled, _I received this man from you_, he said, _insolent and\nviolent; I give him back to you mild and civil_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nON FRIENDSHIP.\n\n\n1. Whereinsoever a man is zealous, this, it is fair to suppose, he\nloveth. Are men, then, zealous for evil things? Never.[1] Or, perchance,\nfor things which do not concern them? Nor for them either. It\nremaineth, then, that they are zealous about good things only; and that\nif they are zealous about them, they also love them. Whosoever, then,\nhath understanding of good things, the same would know how to love. But\nhe who is not able to distinguish good things from evil, and things that\nare neither from both, how could this man yet be capable of loving? To\nlove, then, is a quality of the wise alone.\n\n2. _And how is this_, saith one, _for I am foolish, and none the less do\nI love my child_. By the Gods! I wonder, then, how you have begun by\nconfessing yourself to be foolish. For wherein do you lack? Do you not\nuse your senses? do you not judge of appearances? do you not bring to\nthe body the nourishment it needeth, and the covering and habitation?\nWherefore, then, confess yourself to be a fool? Because, forsooth, you\nare often perplexed by appearances, and troubled, and you are vanquished\nby their plausibility; and you take the same things to be now good, and\nnow evil, and then indifferent; and, in a word, you grieve and fear and\nenvy, and are troubled, and changed--for these things you confess\nyourself a fool.\n\n3. But do you never change in love? But is it wealth, and pleasure,\nand, in short, things, alone that you sometimes take to be good and\nsometimes evil? and do you not take the same men to be now good, now\nevil? and sometimes you are friendly disposed towards them, and\nsometimes hostile? and sometimes you praise them, and sometimes you\nblame?\n\n----\"Yea, even so I do.\"\n\nWhat then? a man who hath been deceived about another, is he, think you,\nhis friend?\n\n----\"Assuredly not.\"\n\nAnd one who hath taken a friend out of a humor for change, hath he\ngood-will towards him?\n\n----\"Nor he either.\"\n\nAnd he who now reviles another, and afterwards reveres him?\n\n----\"Nor he.\"\n\nWhat then? Sawest thou never the whelps of a dog, how they fawn and\nsport with each other, that you would say nothing can be more loving?\nBut to know what friendship is, fling a piece of flesh among them, and\nthou shalt learn. And cast between thee and thy child a scrap of land,\nand thou shalt learn how the child will quickly wish to bury thee, and\nthou wilt pray that he may die. And then thou wilt say, _What a child\nhave I nourished! this long time he is burying me!_ Throw a handsome\ngirl between you, and the old man will love her, and the young too;[2]\nand if it be glory, or some risk to run, it will be on the same fashion.\nYou will speak the words of the father of Admetus[3]:--\n\n  \"Day gladdens thee; think'st thou it glads not me?\n  Thou lovest light; think'st thou I love the dark?\"\n\nThink you this man did not love his own child when it was little? nor\nwas in agony if it had a fever? nor said many a time, _Would that I had\nthe fever rather than he!_ Then when the trial cometh and is near at\nhand, lo, what words they utter! And Eteocles and Polyneices,[4] were\nthey not children of the same mother and the same father? were they not\nbrought up together, did they not live together, drink together, sleep\ntogether, and often kiss one another? So that any one who saw them, I\nthink, would have laughed at the philosophers, for the things they say\nperversely about friendship. But when royalty, like a piece of flesh,\nhath fallen between them, hear what things they speak:--\n\n  \"_Pol._ Where wilt thou stand before the towers?\"\n\n  \"_Et._ Wherefore seekest thou to know?\"\n\n  \"_Pol._ There I too would stand and slay thee.\"\n\n  \"_Et._ Thou hast spoken my desire.\"\n\n4. For universally, be not deceived, nothing is so dear to any creature\nas its own profit. Whatsoever may seem to hinder this, be it father or\nchild or friend or lover, this he will hate and abuse and curse. For\nNature hath never so made anything as to love aught but its own profit:\nthis is father and brother and kin and country and God. When, then, the\nGods appear to hinder us in this, we revile even them, and overthrow\ntheir images and burn their temples; as Alexander, when his friend died,\ncommanded to burn the temples of Esculapius.\n\n5. Therefore, if a man place in the same thing both profit and holiness,\nand the beautiful and fatherland, and parents and friends, all these\nthings shall be saved; but if he place profit in one thing, and friends\nand fatherland and kinsfolk, yea, and righteousness itself some other\nwhere, all these things shall perish, for profit shall outweigh them.\nFor where the I and the Mine are, thither, of necessity, inclineth every\nliving thing: if in the flesh, then the supremacy is there; if in the\nWill, it is there; if in outward things, it is there. If, then, mine I\nis where my Will is, thus only shall I be the friend I should be, or the\nson or the father. For my profit then will be to cherish faith and piety\nand forbearance and continence and helpfulness; and to guard the bonds\nof relation. But if I set Myself in one place and Virtue some\notherwhere, then the word of Epicurus waxeth strong, which declareth\nthat there is no Virtue, or, at least, that Virtue is but conceit.\n\n6. Through this ignorance did Athenians and Lacedaemonians quarrel with\neach other, and Thebans with both of them, and the Great King with\nHellas, and Macedonians with both of them, and even now Romans with\nGetae; and through this yet earlier the wars of Ilion arose. Paris was\nthe guest of Menelaus; and if any one had seen how friendly-minded\ntowards each other they were, he would have disbelieved any one who said\nthey were not friends. But a morsel was flung between them--a fair\nwoman, and about her there was war. And now when you see friends or\nbrothers that seem to be of one mind, argue nothing from this concerning\ntheir friendship; nay, not if they swear it, not if they declare that\nthey cannot be parted from each other. For in the ruling faculty of a\nworthless man there is no faith; it is unstable, unaccountable, victim\nof one appearance after another. But try them, not, as others do, if\nthey were born of the same parents and nurtured together, and under the\nsame tutor; but by this alone, wherein they place their profit, whether\nin outward things or in the will. If in outward things, call them no\nmore friends than faithful or steadfast or bold or free; yea, nor even\nmen, if you had sense. For that opinion hath nothing of humanity that\nmakes men bite each other, and revile each other, and haunt the\nwildernesses, or the public places, like the mountains,[5] and in the\ncourts of justice to show forth the character of thieves; nor that which\nmakes men drunkards and adulterers and corruptors, nor whatever other\nills men work against each other through this one and only opinion, that\nThey and Theirs lie in matters beyond the Will. But if you hear, in\nsooth, that these men hold the Good to be there only where the Will is,\nwhere the right use of appearances is, then be not busy to inquire if\nthey are father and son, or brothers, or have long time companied with\neach other as comrades; but, knowing this one thing alone, argue\nconfidently that they are friends, even as they are faithful and\nupright. For where else is friendship than where faith is, where piety\nis, where there is an interchange of virtue, and none of other things\nthan that?\n\n7. _But such a one hath shown kindness to me so long, and is he not my\nfriend?_ Slave, whence knowest thou if he did not show thee kindness as\nhe wipes his shoes or tends his beast? Whence knowest thou if, when thy\nuse is at an end as a vessel, he will not cast thee away like a broken\nplate? _But she is my wife, and we have lived together so long?_ And how\nlong lived Eriphyle with Amphiaraus, and was the mother, yea, of many\nchildren? But a necklace came between them.[6] But what is a necklace?\nIt is the opinion men have concerning such things. That was the wild\nbeast nature, that was the sundering of love, that which would not allow\nthe woman to be a wife, or the mother a mother. And of you, whosoever\nhath longed either to be a friend himself or to win some other for a\nfriend, let him cut out these opinions, let him hate them and drive them\nfrom his soul.\n\n8. And thus he will not revile himself, nor be at strife with himself,\nnor be variable, nor torment himself. And to another, if it be one like\nhimself, he will be altogether as to himself, but with one unlike he\nwill be forbearing and gentle and mild, ready to forgive him as an\nignorant man, as one who is astray about the greatest things; but harsh\nto no man, being well assured of that dogma of Plato, that no soul is\nwillingly deprived of the truth.\n\n9. But otherwise you may do all things whatsoever, even as friends are\nwont to do, and drink together, and dwell together, and voyage together,\nand be born from the same parents, for so are snakes; but friends they\nare not, nor are ye, so long as ye hold these accursed doctrines of wild\nbeasts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTIME AND CHANGE.\n\n\n1. Let not another's vice be thy evil. For thou wast not born to be\nabject with others, or unfortunate with others, but to prosper with\nthem. But if any one is unfortunate, remember that it is of his own\ndoing. For God hath made all men to be happy, and of good estate. For\nthis end hath He granted means and occasions, giving some things to each\nman as his own concern, and some things as alien; and the things that\nare hindered and subject to compulsion and lost are not his own concern,\nand those that are unhindered are; and the substance of Good and of\nEvil, as it were worthy of Him that careth for us and doth protect us as\na father, He hath placed among our own concerns.\n\n2.----\"But I have parted from such a one, and he is grieved.\"\n\nFor why did he deem things alien to be his own concern? Why, when he\nrejoiced to see thee, did he not reason that thou wert mortal, and apt\nto travel to another land? Therefore doth he pay the penalty of his own\nfolly. But thou, for what cause or reason dost thou bewail thyself? Hast\nthou also given no thought to these things; but like silly women\nconsorted with all that pleased thee as though thou shouldst consort\nwith them forever, places and persons and pastimes? and now thou sittest\nweeping, because thou canst see the same persons and frequent the same\nplaces no longer. This, truly, is what thou art fit for, to be more\nwretched than crows and ravens that can fly whithersoever they please,\nand change their nests, and pass across the seas, nor ever lament nor\nyearn for what they have left.\n\n----\"Yea, but they are thus because they are creatures without reason.\"\n\nTo us, then, was Reason given by the Gods for our misfortune and misery?\nthat we should be wretched and sorrowful forever? Let all men be\nimmortal, forsooth, and no man migrate to another land, nor let us\nourselves ever migrate, but remain rooted to one spot like plants; and\nif one of our companions go, let us sit down and weep, and if he return,\ndance and clap hands like children!\n\n3. Shall we not now at last wean ourselves, and remember what we heard\nfrom the philosophers? if, indeed, we did not listen to them as a\nwizard's incantation. For they said that the universe is one Polity, and\none is the substance out of which it is made, and there must, of\nnecessity, be a certain cycle, and some things must give place to\nothers, some dissolving away, and others coming into being, some abiding\nin one place, and others being in motion. But all things are full of\nlove, first of the Gods, then of men, that are by nature made to have\naffection towards each other; and it must needs be that some dwell with\neach other, and some are separated, rejoicing in those who are with\nthem, and not distressed for those who go away. And man, they said, is\nmagnanimous by nature, and contemneth all things beyond the Will; and\nhath also this quality, not to be rooted to one spot, nor grown into the\nearth, but able to go from place to place, sometimes urged by divers\nneeds, sometimes for the sake of what he shall see.\n\n4. And such was the case with Ulysses:--\n\n   \"The cities of many peoples and minds of men he\n   knew.\"--_Od._ i. 3.\n\nAnd yet earlier with Hercules, who went about the whole earth--\n\n   \"All disorders of men and orderly rule to see,\"\n                                     --_Od._ xvii. 487,\n\ncasting out and purging the one, and bringing in the other in its place.\nAnd how many friends, think you, had he in Thebes? how many in Argos?\nhow many in Athens? and how many did he gain in his journeyings? And he\ntook a wife, too, when it seemed to him due time, and begat children,\nand left them behind him, not with lamentations or regrets, nor leaving\nthem as orphans; for he knew that no man is an orphan, but that there is\nan Eternal Father who careth continually for all. For not of report\nalone had he heard that Zeus is the Father of men, whom also he thought\nto be his own father, and called Him so, and all that he did, he did\nlooking unto Him. And thus it was that he was able to live happily in\nevery place.\n\n5. For never can happiness and the longing for what is not exist\ntogether. For Happiness must have all its will. It is like unto one that\nhath eaten and is filled; thirst will not sort with it, nor hunger. _But\nUlysses longed for his wife, and lamented as he sat on the rock._[1] And\ndo you, then, follow Homer and his stories in everything? Or if he did\nin truth lament, what else was he than an unfortunate man? And what good\nman is unfortunate? Verily, the Whole is ill-governed if Zeus taketh no\ncare of his own citizens, that they like himself may be happy; but these\nthings it is not lawful nor pious even to think of. But Ulysses, if\nindeed he lamented and complained, was not a good man. For what good man\nis there that knoweth not who he is? and who knoweth this who forgets\nthat things which come into existence also perish, and that no two human\nbeings dwell together forever? To aim, then, at things which are\nimpossible is a contemptible and foolish thing; it is the part of a\nstranger and alien in God's world who fights against God in the one way\nhe can--by his own opinions.\n\n6. _But my mother laments if she sees me not._ And wherefore hath she\nnever learned these teachings? Yet, I say not that it is no concern of\nours to prevent her grieving; but that we should not absolutely, and\nwithout exception, desire what is not our own. And the grief of another\nis another's, and my grief is mine own. I will, therefore, absolutely\nend mine own grief, for this I can; and that of another according to my\nmeans, but this I will not attempt absolutely. For otherwise I shall be\nfighting with God. I shall be opposing and resisting Him in the\ngovernment of the Whole; and of this strife against God, this obstinacy,\nnot only my children's children, but I myself, too, shall pay the\npenalty by day and night; for I shall leap from my bed at visions of the\nnight, confounded, trembling at every news, having my peace at the mercy\nof letters of other persons. _A messenger hath come from Rome; God grant\nit be no evil_. But what evil can come upon thee there, where thou art\nnot? _There is a message from Greece; God grant it be no evil._ And thus\nto thee every place may be a source of misfortune. Is it not enough for\nthee to be unfortunate where thou art, and not also across the sea, and\nby writings? Is this the security of thine affairs? _But what if my\nfriends which are abroad die there?_ What else than that creatures\ndestined to die have died? And how dost thou desire to live to old age,\nand never to see the death of any whom thou lovest? Knowest thou not\nthat in a great length of time many and various things must chance; that\na fever shall overthrow one, and a robber another, and a tyrant another?\nSuch is our environment, such our companions; cold and heat, and\nimproper ways of living, and journeyings, and voyagings, and winds, and\nvarious circumstances will destroy one man, and exile another, and cast\nanother into an embassy, and another into a campaign. Sit down, then,\nterrified at all these things; grieve and fail, and be unfortunate;\ndepend on others, and that not on one or two, but myriads upon myriads.\n\n7. Is this what you heard, is this what you learned from the\nphilosophers? Know you not that our business here is a warfare? and one\nmust watch, and one go out as a spy, and one must fight? All cannot be\nthe same thing, nor would it be better if they were. But you neglect to\ndo the bidding of the commander, and complain when he hath laid somewhat\nrougher than common upon you; and you mark not what, so far as in you\nlies, you are making the army to become, so that if all copy you, none\nwill dig a trench, none will cast up a rampart, none will watch, none\nwill run any risk, but each will appear worthless for warfare. Again, in\na ship, if you go for a sailor, take up one place, and never budge from\nit; and if you are wanted to go aloft, refuse; or to run upon the prow,\nrefuse; and what captain will have patience with you? Will he not cast\nyou out like some useless thing, nothing else than a hindrance and bad\nexample to the other sailors?\n\n8. And thus here also: the life of every man is a sort of warfare, and\na long one, and full of divers chances. And it behooveth a man to play a\nsoldier's part, and do all at the nod of his commander; yea, and if it\nbe possible, to divine what he intendeth. For that commander is not such\na one as this, neither in power nor in exaltation of character. You are\nset in a great office, and in no mean place, but are a Senator forever.\nKnow you not that such a one can attend but little to his household, but\nhe must be oftentimes abroad, ruling or being ruled, or fulfilling some\noffice, or serving in the field, or judging? And will you, then, desire\nto be fixed and rooted like a plant in the same place? _For it is\npleasant._ Who denies it? But so is a dainty pleasant, and a fair woman\nis pleasant. How otherwise are those wont to speak who make pleasure\ntheir end? See you not what kind of men they are whose words you utter?\nThey are the words of Epicureans and profligates. And doing the works of\nthese men, and holding their doctrines, wilt thou speak to us with the\nspeech of Zeno and Socrates?\n\n9. Will you not fling away from you as far as you can these alien\nsentiments wherewith you adorn yourself, which beseem you not at all?\nWhat other desire have such men than to sleep their fill unhindered, and\nwhen they have risen, to yawn for languor, and wash their face, and\nwrite and read whatever pleaseth them; then have some trivial talk, and\nbe praised by their friends, whatever they say; then go forth to walk\nabout, and having done this a little, go to the baths; then eat; then\nretire to rest--such a rest as is the wont of such men, and why need we\nsay what, for it is easily guessed? Come, tell me, then, thine own way\nof life, such as thou desirest, O thou votary of the truth, and of\nSocrates and Diogenes! What wilt thou do in Athens? these very things,\nor others? Why, then, dost declare thyself a Stoic? Are not they sorely\npunished which falsely pretend to be Roman citizens; and should those go\nfree who falsely pretend to so great and reverend a calling and name? or\nlet this indeed be impossible; but this is the law, divine and mighty,\nand not to be escaped, that layeth the greatest punishments on the\ngreatest sinners. For what saith this law? He who pretendeth to things\nthat are not his own, let him be a cheat and braggart; he that is\ndisobedient to the divine government, let him be an abject, a slave, let\nhim grieve and envy and pity[2]--in a word, let him be misfortunate, and\nmourn.\n\n10.----\"And now will you have me attend upon such a one, and hang about\nhis doors?\"\n\nIf Reason demand it, for the sake of country, of kinsmen, of mankind,\nwherefore shouldst thou not go? Thou art not ashamed to go to the doors\nof a cobbler when thou art in want of shoes, nor to those of a gardener\nfor lettuces; and why to those of a rich man when thou art in need of\nsome like thing?\n\n----\"Yea, but I have no awe of the cobbler.\"\n\nThen have none of the rich.\n\n----\"Nor will I flatter the gardener.\"\n\nAnd do not flatter the rich.\n\n----\"How, then, shall I gain what I want?\"\n\nDid I say to thee, _Go, for the sake of gaining it_; or did I not only\nsay, _Go, that thou mayest do what it beseems thee to do_.\n\n----\"And why, then, should I yet go?\"\n\nThat thou mayest have gone; that thou mayest have played the part of a\ncitizen, of a brother, of a friend. And, for the rest, remember that the\nshoemaker, the vegetable-seller, to whom thou didst go, hath nothing\ngreat or exalted to give, even though he sell it dear. Thy aim was\nlettuces; they are worth an obol, they are not worth a talent. And so it\nis here. Is the matter worth going to the rich man's door for? So be it;\nI will go. Is it worth speaking to him about? So be it; I will speak.\nBut must I also kiss his hand, and fawn upon him with praise? Out upon\nit! that is a talent's worth. It is no profit to me, nor to the State,\nnor to my friends, that they should lose a good citizen and friend.\n\n11.----\"How, then, shall I become of an affectionate disposition?\"\n\nIn having a generous and happy one. For Reason doth never decree that a\nman must be abject, or lament, or depend on another, or blame God or\nman. And thus be thou affectionate, as one who will keep this faith.\nBut if through this affection, or what happens to be so called by thee,\nthou art like to prove a miserable slave, then it shall not profit thee\nto be affectionate. And what hinders us to love as though we loved a\nmortal, or one who may depart to other lands? Did Socrates not love his\nchildren? Yea, but as a free man; as one who remembered that he must\nfirst love the Gods. And, therefore, he never did transgress anything\nthat it becomes a good man to observe, neither in his defense, nor in\nfixing his punishment, nor beforetime when he was of the Council, nor\nwhen he was serving in the field. But we are well supplied with every\nexcuse for baseness; some through children, some through mothers, some\nthrough brothers. But it behooveth no man to be unhappy through any\nperson, but happy through all, and most of all through God, which hath\nframed us to that end.\n\n12. And, for the rest, in all things which are delightful to thee, set\nbefore thyself the appearances that oppose them. What harm is it, while\nkissing thy child, to whisper, _To-morrow thou shalt die_; and likewise\nwith thy friend, _To-morrow thou shall depart, either thou or I, and we\nshall see each other no more_?\n\n----\"But these are words of ill-omen.\"\n\nAnd so are some incantations, but in that they are useful I regard not\nthis; only let them be of use. But dost thou call anything of ill-omen,\nsave only that which betokeneth some evil? Cowardice is a word of\nill-omen, and baseness and grief and mourning and shamelessness, these\nwords are of ill-omen. And not even them must we dread to speak, if so\nwe may defend ourselves against the things. But wilt thou say that any\nword is of ill-omen that betokeneth some natural thing? Say that it is\nof ill-omen to speak of the reaping of ears of corn, for it betokeneth\nthe destruction of the ears--but not of the universe. Say that the\nfalling of the leaves is of ill-omen, and the dried fig coming in the\nplace of the green, and raisins in the place of grapes. For all these\nthings are changes from the former estate to another; no destruction,\nbut a certain appointed order and disposition. Here is parting for\nforeign lands, and a little change. Here is death--a greater change, not\nfrom that which now is to that which is not, but to that which is not\nnow.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nON SOLITUDE.\n\n\n1. Solitude is the state of one who is helpless. For he who is alone is\nnot therefore solitary; even as he who is in a great company is not\ntherefore not solitary. When, therefore, we have lost a brother or a son\nor a friend on whom we were wont to rest, we say that we are left\nsolitary, and oftentimes we say it in Rome, with such a crowd meeting us\nand so many dwelling about us, and, it may be, having a multitude of\nslaves. For the solitary man, in his conception, meaneth to be thought\nhelpless, and laid open to those who wish him harm. Therefore when we\nare on a journey we then, above all, say that we are solitary when we\nare fallen among thieves; for that which taketh away solitude is not the\nsight of a man, but of a faithful and pious and serviceable man. For if\nto be solitary it sufficeth to be alone, then say that Zeus is solitary\nin the conflagration,[1] and bewails himself. _Woe is me! I have neither\nHera nor Athene nor Apollo_, nor, in short, either brother or son or\ndescendant or kinsman. And so some say he doth when alone in the\nconflagration. For they comprehend not the life of a man who is alone,\nsetting out from a certain natural principle, that we are by nature\nsocial, and inclined to love each other, and pleased to be in the\ncompany of other men. But none the less is it needful that one find the\nmeans to this also, to be able to suffice to himself, and to be his own\ncompanion. For as Zeus is his own companion, and is content with\nhimself, and considereth his own government, what it is, and is occupied\nin designs worthy of himself; thus should we be able to converse with\nourselves, and feel no need of others, nor want means to pass the time;\nbut to observe the divine government, and the relation of ourselves with\nother things; to consider how we stood formerly towards the events that\nbefall us, and how we stand now; what things they are that still afflict\nus; how these, too, may be healed, how removed; and if aught should need\nperfecting, to perfect it according to the reason of the case.\n\n2. Ye see now how that Caesar seemeth to have given us a great peace;\nhow there are no longer wars nor battles nor bands of robbers nor of\npirates, but a man may travel at every season, and sail from east to\nwest. But can he give us peace from fever? or from shipwreck? or from\nfire? or earthquake? or lightning? ay, or from love? _He cannot._ Or\nfrom grief? _He cannot._ Or from envy? _He cannot._ Briefly, then, he\ncannot secure us from any of such things. But the word of the\nphilosophers doth promise us peace even from these things. And what\nsaith it? _If ye will hearken unto me, O men, wheresoever ye be,\nwhatsoever ye do, ye shall not grieve, ye shall not be wroth, ye shall\nnot be compelled or hindered, but ye shall live untroubled and free from\nevery ill._ Whosoever hath this peace, which Caesar never proclaimed (for\nhow could he proclaim it?), but which God proclaimed through His word,\nshall he not suffice to himself when he may be alone? for he beholdeth\nand considereth, _Now can no evil happen to me; for me there is no\nrobber, no earthquake; all things are full of peace, full of calm; for\nme no way, no city, no assembly, no neighbor, no associate hath any\nhurt_. He is supplied by one, whose part that is, with food, by another\nwith raiment, by another with senses, by another with natural\nconceptions. And when it may be that the necessary things are no longer\nsupplied, that is the signal for retreat: the door is opened, and God\nsaith to thee, _Depart_.\n\n----\"Whither?\"\n\nTo nothing dreadful, but to the place from whence thou camest--to things\nfriendly and akin to thee, to the elements of Being. Whatever in thee\nwas fire shall go to fire; of earth, to earth; of air, to air; of water,\nto water;[2] no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Coeytus, nor Phlegethon, but all\nthings are full of Gods and Powers.[3] Whoso hath these things to think\non, and seeth the sun and the moon and the stars, and rejoiceth in the\nearth and the sea, he is no more solitary than he is helpless.\n\n----\"What, then, if one come and find me alone and slay me?\"\n\nFool! not thee, but thy wretched body.\n\n3. Thou art a little soul bearing up a corpse.\n\n4. What solitude, then, is there any longer, what lack? Why do we make\nourselves worse than children, which, when they are left alone, what do\nthey?--they take shells and sand and build up somewhat, and then throw\nit down, and again build up something else, and so they never lack\npastime. And shall I, if ye sail away from me, sit down and weep for\nthat I am left alone and solitary? Shall I have no shells nor sand? But\nchildren do these things through their folly, and we through our wisdom\nare made unhappy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nAGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS AND REVENGEFUL.\n\n\n1. To suppose that we shall become contemptible in the eyes of others,\nunless in some way we inflict an injury on those who first showed\nhostility to us, is the character of most ignoble and thoughtless men.\nFor thus we say, that a man is to be despised according to his inability\nto do hurt; but much rather is he to be despised according to his\ninability to do good.\n\n2. The wise and good man neither strives with any himself, nor in the\nmeasure of his power will he allow another to strive. And in this, as in\nall other things, the life of Socrates is set before us as an example;\nwho did not only himself fly all contention, but also forbade it to\nothers. See in Xenophon's _Symposium_ how many quarrels he ended; and,\nagain, how he bore with Thrasymachus, and how with Polus and with\nCallicles; and how he endured his wife, and how his son, which opposed\nhim with sophistical arguments. For he remembered very well that no man\ncan command the ruling faculty of another.\n\n3. How, then, is there yet any place for contention in one so minded?\nFor what event can amaze him? what appear strange to him? Doth he not\nlook for even worse and more grievous things at the hands of evil men\nthan do befall him? Doth he not count everything for gain which is short\nof the extreme of injury? Hath such a one reviled thee? Much thanks to\nhim that he did not strike thee. _But he did also strike me._ Much\nthanks that he did not wound thee. _But he did also wound me._ Much\nthanks that he did not slay thee. For when did he learn, or from whom,\nthat he was a tame animal, and affectionate to others, and that to the\nwrongdoer the wrong-doing itself is a heavy injury? For since he hath not\nlearned these things, nor believes them, wherefore should he not follow\nthat which appears to be his advantage? Thy neighbor hath flung stones!\nHast thou, then, sinned in aught? But he has broken things in the house?\nAnd art thou a household vessel? Nay--but a Will.\n\n4. What, then, hath been given thee for this occasion? To a wolf it were\ngiven to bite--to fling more stones. But if thou seek what is becoming\nfor a man, look into thy stores, see what faculties thou hast come here\nfurnished withal. Hast thou the nature of a wild beast? the temper of\nrevenge?\n\n5. When is a horse in wretched case? When he is bereaved of his natural\nfaculties; not when he cannot crow, but when he cannot run. When is a\ndog? Not when he cannot fly, but when he cannot track. Is not a man,\nthen, also thus wretched, not when he cannot strangle lions or embrace\nstatues[1]--for to this he came endowed with no faculties by Nature--but\nwhen he hath lost his honesty, his faithfulness? Surely we should meet\ntogether and lament over such a man; so great are the evils into which\nhe hath fallen. Not, indeed, that we should lament for his birth, or for\nhis death, but in that while yet living he hath suffered the loss of his\nown true possessions. I speak not of his paternal inheritance, not of\nhis land, or his house, or his inn, or his slaves (for not one of these\nthings is the true possession of a man, but all are alien, servile,\nsubject, given now to some, now to others, by those that can command\nthem); but of his human qualities, the stamps of his spirit wherewith he\ncame into the world. Even such we seek for also on coins, and if we find\nthem we approve the coins, and if not, we cast them away. What is the\nstamp of this sestertius? _The stamp of Trajan._ Then give it me. _The\nstamp of Nero._[2] Fling it away--it will not pass, it is bad. And so\nhere too. What is the stamp of his mind? He is gentle, social,\nforbearing, affectionate. Come, then, I receive him, I admit him to\ncitizenship, I receive him as a neighbor, a fellow-traveler. See to it\nonly that he have not Nero's stamp. Is he wrathful, revengeful,\ncomplaining? Doth he, when it may seem good to him, break the heads of\nall who stand in his way? Why, then, didst thou say he was a man? Shall\neverything be judged by the bare form? If so, then say that a wax apple\nis a real apple, and that it has the smell and taste of an apple. But\nthe outward shape doth not suffice, nor are eyes and nose enough to make\na man, but he is a man only if he have a man's mind. Here is one that\nwill not hear reason, that will not submit when he is confuted--he is an\nass. In another, reverence hath died--he is worthless, anything rather\nthan a man. This one seeketh whom he may meet and kick or bite--so that\nhe is not even a sheep or an ass, but some kind of savage beast.\n\n6. But this is the nature of every creature, to pursue the Good and fly\nthe Evil; and to hold every man an enemy and a plotter for our woe, were\nit even a brother, or son, or father, who takes away from us the one, or\nbrings us into the other. For nothing is nearer or dearer to us than the\nGood. It remains, therefore, if outward things be good and evil, that a\nfather is no longer the friend of his sons, nor the brother of his\nbrother, but every place is full of enemies and plotters and slanderers.\nBut if the only Good is that the Will should be as it ought to be, and\nthe only Evil as it ought not, where is there then any place for strife,\nfor reviling? For about what things shall we strive? about those that\nare nothing to us? and with whom? with the ignorant, the unhappy, with\nmen who are deceived concerning the greatest things?\n\n7. Remembering these things, Socrates managed his own household,\nenduring a most shrewish wife and an undutiful son. For these doctrines\nmake love in a household, and concord in a State, peace among nations,\nand gratitude towards God, with boldness in every place, as of one who\nhath to do with things alien to him, and of no estimation. And we are\nthe men to write and read these things, and to applaud them when they\nare delivered to us, but to the belief of them we have not even come\nnear. And therefore that saying concerning the Lacedaemonians,\n\n  \"Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes,\"[3]\n\nwill fit us too--lions in the school and foxes without.\n\nEND OF BOOK III.\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK IV._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nOF RELIGION.\n\n\n1. Of religion towards the Gods, know that the chief element is to have\nright opinions concerning them, as existing and governing the whole in\nfair order and justice; and then to set thyself to obey them, and to\nyield to them in each event, and submit to it willingly, as accomplished\nunder the highest counsels. For so shalt thou never blame the Gods, nor\naccuse them, as being neglectful of thee.\n\n2. But this may come to pass in no other way than by placing Good and\nEvil in the things that are in our own power, and withdrawing them from\nthose that are not; for if thou take any of these things to be good or\nevil, then when thou shalt miss thy desire, or fall into what thou\ndesirest not, it is altogether necessary that thou blame and hate those\nwho caused thee to do so.\n\n3. For every living thing was so framed by Nature as to flee and turn\nfrom things, and the causes of things, that appear hurtful, and to\nfollow and admire things, and the causes of things, that appear\nserviceable. For it is impossible that one who thinketh himself harmed\nshould delight in that seemeth to harm him, even as he cannot delight in\nthe very harm itself.\n\n4. And thus it comes that a father is reviled by his son when he will\nnot give him of the things that appear to be good. And this it was that\nset Polyneices and Eteocles at war with each other--the opinion, namely,\nthat royalty is a good. And through this the Gods are railed on by the\nhusbandman and the sailor, by the merchant, and men who lose their wives\nor children. For where advantage is, there also is religion. Thus he who\nis careful to pursue and avoid as he ought, is careful, at the same\ntime, of religion.\n\n5. But it is fitting also that every man should pour libations and offer\nsacrifices and first-fruits after the customs of his fathers, purely,\nand not languidly nor negligently, nor, indeed, scantily, nor yet beyond\nhis means.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nOF PROVIDENCE.\n\n\n1. Concerning the Gods, there are some who say that a Divine Being does\nnot exist; and others, that it exists indeed, but is idle and uncaring,\nand hath no forethought for anything; and a third class say that there\nis such a Being, and he taketh forethought also, but only in respect of\ngreat and heavenly things, but of nothing that is on the earth; and a\nfourth class, that he taketh thought of things both in heaven and earth,\nbut only in general, and not of each thing severally. And there is a\nfifth class, whereof are Odysseus and Socrates, who say, _Nor can I move\nwithout thy knowledge_.[1]\n\n2. Before all things, then, it is necessary to investigate each of these\nopinions, whether it be justly affirmed or no. For if there be no Gods,\nhow can the following of the Gods be an end? And if there are Gods, but\nsuch as take no care for anything, then also how can the following of\nthem be truly an end? And how, again, if the Gods both exist and take\ncare for things, yet if there be no communication from them to men, yea,\nby Zeus, and even to mine own self? The wise and good man, having\ninvestigated all these things, will submit his own mind to Him that\ngoverneth the Whole, even as good citizens to the laws of their State.\n\n3. But a certain man having inquired how one could be persuaded that\nevery one of his actions is observed by God, Doth it not appear to you,\nsaid Epictetus, that all things are united in One?\n\n----\"It doth so appear.\"\n\nWhat then? Think you not that a sympathy exists between heavenly and\nearthly things?\n\n----\"I do think it.\"\n\nFor how else do plants, as if at the command of God, when He bids them,\nflower in due season? and shoot forth when He bids them shoot, and bear\nfruit when He bids them bear? and ripen when He bids them ripen? and\nagain they drop their fruit when He bids them drop it, and shed their\nleaves when He bids them shed them? and how else at His bidding do they\nfold themselves together, and remain motionless and at rest? And how\nelse at the waxing and waning of the moon, and the approach and\nwithdrawal of the sun, do we behold such a change and reversal in\nearthly things? But are the plants and our bodies so bound up in the\nwhole, and have sympathy with it, and are our spirits not much more so?\nAnd our souls being thus bound up and in touch with God, seeing, indeed,\nthat they are portions and fragments of Him, shall not every movement of\nthem, inasmuch as it is something inward and akin to God, be perceived\nby Him? But you are able to meditate upon the divine government, and\nupon all divine and all human affairs, and to be affected at the same\ntime in the senses and in the intellect by ten thousand things, and at\nthe same time to assent to some and dissent to others, or suspend your\njudgment; and you preserve in your mind so many impressions of so many\nand various things, and being affected by them, you strike upon ideas\nsimilar to earlier impressions, and you retain many different arts, and\nmemories of ten thousand things; and shall not God have the power to\noverlook all things, and be present with all, and have a certain\ncommunication with all? But is the sun able to illuminate so great a\npart of the All, and to leave so little without light,--that part,\nnamely, which is filled with the shadow of the earth--and shall He who\nmade the sun, and guideth it in its sphere--a small part of Him beside\nthe Whole--shall He not be capable of perceiving all things?\n\n4. _But I_, saith the man, _cannot take heed of all these things at\nonce_. And who said you could do this? that you had equal powers with\nGod? But, nevertheless, He hath placed at every man's side a Guardian,\nthe Genius of each man,[2] who is charged to watch over him, a Genius\nthat cannot sleep, nor be deceived. To what greater and more watchful\nguardian could He have committed us? So, when ye have shut the doors,\nand made darkness in the house, remember never to say that ye are alone;\nfor ye are not alone, but God is there, and your Genius is there; and\nwhat need have these of light to mark what ye are doing? To this God it\nwere fitting also that ye should swear an oath, as soldiers do to Caesar.\nBut those indeed who receive pay swear to prefer the safety of Caesar\nbefore all things; but ye, receiving so many and great things, will ye\nnot swear? or swearing, will ye not abide by it? And what shall ye\nswear? Never to disobey, never to accuse, never to blame aught that He\nhath given, never unwillingly to do or suffer any necessary thing. Is\nthis oath like unto that other? The soldiers swear to esteem no other\nman before Caesar; ye to esteem yourselves above all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nOF PROVIDENCE.\n\n\n1. Marvel not if the other animals have all things that are needful for\nthe body without preparation, not alone food and drink, but sleeping\nplaces also, and they have no need of shoes, nor bedding, nor raiment,\nwhile all these things must needs be added to us. For these creatures\nexist not for themselves, but for service; it were not expedient that\nthey had been made with need of such additions. For, look you, what a\ntask it were for us to take thought, not for ourselves alone, but also\nfor the sheep and the asses, how they should be clad, how shod, how they\nshould eat, how they should drink! But as soldiers are ready for their\ncommands, shod, and clothed, and accoutred, and it would be a grievous\nthing if each captain of a thousand must go round and shoe or clothe\nhis thousand; so also hath Nature formed the animals that are made for\nservice, ready equipped, and needing no further care. And thus one\nlittle child with a rod will drive the sheep.\n\n2. But now we, neglecting to be grateful, for that we need not attend to\nthe animals equally with ourselves, do accuse God for our own lack. And\nyet, by Zeus and all the Gods, there is no one thing in the frame of\nNature but would give, at least to a reverent and grateful spirit,\nenough for the perceiving of the Providence of God. And to speak of no\ngreat things now, consider this alone, how milk is produced from grass,\nand cheese from milk, and wool from skins. Who is he that hath made\nthese things or planned them? _No one_, sayest thou? O monstrous\nimpudence and dullness!\n\n3. Well, then, let the large works of Nature pass, and let us look only\nat her by-works. Is there aught more useless than the hairs on the chin?\nWhat then? hath she not made such use even of these, that nothing could\nbe comelier? hath she not by them distinguished male from female? Doth\nnot the nature of every man cry aloud even at a distance, _I am a man,\nthus shalt thou approach me, thus speak to me, look for nothing else;\nbehold the tokens!_ And again in women, as Nature hath mingled something\nof softness in the voice, so she hath taken away the hairs. _Nay_, will\nyou say? _but every creature should have been left undistinguished, and\neach of us should proclaim_, \"_I am a man_?\" But how beautiful is not\nthe token, and becoming, and reverend? how much more beautiful than the\ncock's comb? how much more becoming than the lion's mane? Wherefore it\nbehooveth us to preserve God's tokens, nor to fling them away, nor to\nconfound, as far as in us lies, the things that distinguish the sexes.\n\n4. Are these the only works of Providence in us?--but what may suffice\nto rightly praise and tell them? For had we understanding thereof, would\nany other thing better beseem us, either in company or alone, than to\nhymn the Divine Being, and laud Him and rehearse His gracious deeds?\nShould we not, as we dig or plow or eat, sing this hymn to God, _Great\nis God, who hath given us such instruments whereby we shall till the\nearth; great is God, who hath given us hands, and swallowing, and the\nbelly; who maketh us to grow without our knowledge, and to breathe while\nwe sleep_. These things it were fitting that every man should sing, and\nto chant the greatest and divinest hymns for this, that He hath given us\nthe power to observe and consider His works and a Way wherein to\nwalk.[1] What then? since the most of you have become blind, should\nthere not be one to fill this place, and in the name of all to sing this\nhymn to God? For what else can I do, an old man and lame, than sing\nhymns to God? If I were a nightingale I would do after the nature of a\nnightingale; if a swan, after that of a swan. But now I am a reasoning\ncreature, and it behooves me to sing the praise of God: this is my task,\nand this I do, nor, as long as it is granted me, will I ever abandon\nthis post. And you, too, I summon to join me in the same song.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nGOD IN MAN.\n\n\n1. God is beneficial. But the Good is also beneficial. It is likely,\nthen, that where the essence of God is, there also should be the essence\nof the Good. And what is the essence of God? Flesh? God forbid. A\nproperty in land? God forbid. Fame? God forbid. Mind, Intelligence,\nRight Reason? Even so. Here, then, once for all, seek the essence of the\nGood. For surely you will in no wise seek it in a plant? _Nay._ Or in\nany unreasoning creature? _Nay._ If, then, it is sought in a reasoning\ncreature, wherefore continue to seek it anywhere else than in the\ndifference between reasoning and unreasoning creatures?\n\n2. The plants have not so much as the use of appearances, therefore we\nspeak not of the Good in their regard. The Good, then, needs the power\nof using appearances. And this alone? Nay; for if so, say then that Good\nand Happiness and Unhappiness are with the lower animals too. But this\nyou will not say, and you are right; for though they possessed the use\nof appearances in the highest degree, yet the observing and considering\nof this use they do not possess, and naturally so, for they exist to\nserve others, nor have any supreme object in themselves.[1] For the ass\nwas not made for any supreme object in himself? Nay, but he was made\nable to bear, because we had need of a back; and, by Zeus, we had need\nmoreover that he should walk; wherefore he received also the power to\nuse appearances, else had he not been able to walk. And thereupon the\nmatter stopped. For had he also received the observing and considering\nof the use of appearances, it is clear that in reason he could no longer\nhave been subject to us, nor have served those needs of ours, but he had\nbeen our equal and our like.\n\n3. For use is one thing, and observation and study is another. God had\nneed of the other animals to use appearances, but of us to observe and\nstudy appearances. Wherefore it is enough for them to eat and drink, and\nrest and breed, and do whatever else each of them performs, but to us,\nto whom the faculty of observing and studying hath also been given,\nthese things are not enough; but unless we act after a certain manner\nand ordinance, and conformably to the nature and constitution of man, we\nshall never attain the end of our being. For where the constitution is\ndifferent, different there also is the task and the end. When,\ntherefore, the constitution is one for use alone, then the use, of\nwhatever kind it be, is enough; but where there is also observing and\nstudying of the use, then, unless the due employment of this faculty be\nadded, the end shall never be gained. What then? God hath constituted\nevery other animal, one to be eaten, another to serve for tilling the\nland, another to yield cheese, another to some kindred use; for which\nthings what need is there of the observing and studying of appearances,\nand the ability to make distinctions in them? But man he hath brought in\nto be a spectator of God and of His works, and not a spectator alone,\nbut an interpreter of them. Wherefore it is shameful for a man to begin\nand to end where creatures do that are without Reason; but rather should\nhe begin when they begin, and end where Nature ends in ourselves. But\nshe ends in contemplation, in observing and studying, in a manner of\nlife that is in harmony with Nature. See to it, then, that ye die not\nwithout having been spectators of these things.\n\n4. Seek, then, the essence of the Good there, where if it be not, thou\nwilt not say that the Good is in any other thing.\n\n5. But what? are not those creatures also works of God? Surely; yet not\nsupreme objects, yet not parts of the Gods. But thou art a supreme\nobject, thou art a piece of God, thou hast in thee something that is a\nportion of Him. Why, then, art thou ignorant of thy high ancestry? Why\nknowest thou not whence thou camest? Wilt thou not remember, in thine\neating, who it is that eats, and whom thou dost nourish? in cohabiting,\nwho it is that cohabits? in converse, in exercise, in argument, knowest\nthou not that thou art nourishing a God, exercising a God? Unhappy man!\nthou bearest about with thee a God, and knowest it not! Thinkest thou I\nspeak of some God of gold and silver, and external to thee? Nay, but in\nthyself thou dost bear Him, and seest not that thou defilest Him with\nthine impure thoughts and filthy deeds. In the presence even of an image\nof God thou hadst not dared to do one of those things which thou dost.\nBut in the presence of God Himself within thee, who seeth and heareth\nall things, thou art not ashamed of the things thou dost both desire and\ndo, O thou unwitting of thine own nature, and subject to the wrath of\nGod?\n\n6. Why, then, do we fear in sending forth a young man from the school\ninto some of the business of life, lest he should do wrong in anything,\nand be luxurious or profligate, and lest a wrapping of rags degrade him,\nor fine raiment uplift him? Such a one knoweth not his own God, nor with\nwhom he is setting out. But can we have patience with him, saying,\n_Would that I had you with me!_[2] And hast thou not God with thee\nthere? or having Him, dost thou seek for any other? or will He speak\nother things to thee than even these?\n\n7. But wert thou a statue of Pheidias, an Athena or Zeus, then wert\nthou mindful both of thyself and of the artist; and if thou hadst any\nconsciousness, thou wouldst strive to do nothing unworthy of thy maker\nnor of thyself, nor ever to appear in any unseemly guise. But now that\nZeus hath made thee, thou carest therefore nothing what kind of creature\nthou showest thyself for? And yet, is the one Artist like the other\nartist, or the one work like the other work? And what kind of work is\nthat which hath in itself the faculties that were manifest in the making\nof it? Do not artists work in stone or brass or gold or ivory? and the\nAthena of Pheidias, when she hath once stretched out her hand and\nreceived upon it the figure of Victory, standeth thus for all time? But\nthe works of God have motion and breathing, and the use of appearances\nand the judgment of them. Wilt thou dishonor such a Maker, whose work\nthou art? Nay, for not only did He make thee, but to thee alone did He\ntrust and commit thyself. Wilt thou not remember this too, or wilt thou\ndishonor thy charge? But if God had committed some orphan child to thee,\nwouldst thou have neglected it? Now He hath given thee to thyself, and\nsaith, _I had none more worthy of trust than thee; keep this man such as\nhe was made by nature--reverent, faithful, high, unterrified, unshaken\nof passions, untroubled_. And thou wilt not.\n\n8. But they may say: _Whence doth this fellow bring us that eye of scorn\nand solemn looks?_ I have it not yet as I should, For I am yet unbold in\nthose things which I have learned and assented to; I yet fear my\nweakness. But let me be bold in them, and then ye shall see such a look,\nsuch a guise, as behooveth me to wear. Then shall I show you the statue\nwhen it is perfected and polished. What look ye for?--an eye of scorn?\nGod forbid! For doth the Zeus in Olympia look scornfully?--nay, but his\nglance is steadfast, as becometh him who will say,\n\n   \"None trusts in vain my irrevocable word.\"--_Il._ i. 526.\n\nSuch will I show myself to you--faithful, reverent, generous,\nuntroubled. _Not also, then, deathless, ageless, deceaseless?_ Nay, but\ndying as God, sickening as a God. These I have, these I can; but other\nthings I neither have nor can. I will show you the thews of a\nphilosopher. And what are these? A pursuit that never fails, an\navoidance that never miscarries, seemly desire, studious resolve,\ncautious assent.[3] These shall ye see.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nOF DIVINATION.\n\n\n1. When thou goest to inquire of an oracle, remember that what the event\nwill be thou knowest not, for this is the thing thou art come to learn\nfrom the seer; but of what nature it is (if haply thou art a\nphilosopher), thou knewest already in coming. For if it be any of those\nthings that are not in our own power, it follows of necessity that it\ncan be neither good nor evil.\n\n2. Bring, therefore, to the seer neither pursuit nor avoidance, nor go\nbefore him with trembling, but well knowing that all events are\nindifferent and nothing to thee. For whatever it may be, it shall lie\nwith thee to use it nobly; and this no man can prevent. Go, then, with a\ngood courage to the Gods as to counselors; and for the rest, when\nanything hath been counseled thee, remember of whom thou hast taken\ncounsel, and whom thou wilt be slighting if thou art not obedient.\n\n3. Therefore, as Socrates would have it, go to the oracle for those\nmatters only where thy whole inquiry bendeth solely towards the event,\nand where there are no means either from reason or any other art for\nknowing beforehand what is to happen. Thus, when it may be needful to\nshare some peril with thy friend or thy country, inquire of no oracle\nwhether thou shouldst do the thing. For if the seer should declare that\nthe sacrifices are inauspicious, this signifies clearly either death, or\nthe loss of some limb, or banishment; yet doth Reason decree that even\nso thou must stand by thy friend, and share thy country's danger.\n\n4. Mark, therefore, that greater seer, the Pythian, who cast out of his\ntemple one that, when his friend was being murdered, did not help\nhim.[2]\n\nEND OF BOOK IV\n\n\n\n\n_BOOK V._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE BEHAVIOUR OF A PHILOSOPHER.\n\n\n1. Ordain for thyself forthwith a certain form and type of conduct,\nwhich thou shalt maintain both alone and, when it may chance, among men.\n\n2. And for the most part keep silence, or speak only what is necessary,\nand in few words. But when occasion may call thee to speak, then speak,\nbut sparingly, and not about any subject at hap-hazard, nor about\ngladiators, nor horse races, nor athletes, nor things to eat and drink,\nwhich are talked of everywhere; but, above all, not about men, as\nblaming or praising or comparing them.\n\nIf, then, thou art able, let thy discourse draw that of the company\ntowards what is seemly and good. But if thou find thyself apart among\nmen of another sort, keep silence.\n\n3. Laugh not much, nor at many things, nor unrestrainedly.\n\n4. Refuse altogether, if thou canst, to take an oath; if thou canst not,\nthen as the circumstances allow.[1]\n\n5. Shun banquets given by strangers and by the vulgar. But if any\noccasion bring thee to them, give strictest heed, lest thou fall\nunawares into the ways of the vulgar. For know that if thy companion be\ncorrupt, he who hath conversation with him must needs be corrupted also,\neven if himself should chance to be pure.\n\n6. Hath any of you the art of a lute-player when he takes the lute in\nhis hand, so as at once when he hath touched the strings to know which\nare out of tune, and then to tune the instrument?--such a gift as\nSocrates had, who in every company could lead those that were with him\nto his own topic? Whence should you have it? but ye must needs be\ncarried about hither and thither by the vulgar. And wherefore, then, are\nthey stronger than ye? For that they speak their sorry stuff from\nbelief; but ye, your fine talk from the lips out. Wherefore it is flat\nand dead; and sickening it is to hear your exhortations and this\nwretched virtue of yours, which is prated of in every quarter. And thus\nthe vulgar conquer you. For everywhere belief is mighty, belief is\ninvincible. Until then the right opinions are hardened in you; and until\nye shall have gained a certain strength for your safety, I counsel you\nto mingle cautiously with the vulgar, else every day, like wax in the\nsun, shall whatever hath been written in you in the school be melted\naway.\n\n7. In things that concern the body accept only so far as the bare\nneed--as in food, drink, clothing, habitation, servants. But all that\nmakes for glory or luxury thou must utterly proscribe.\n\n8. Concerning intercourse of the sexes, it is right to be pure before\nmarriage, to the best of thy power. But, using it, let a man have to do\nonly with what is lawful. Yet be not grievous to those who use such\npleasures, nor censorious; nor be often putting thyself forward as not\nusing them.\n\n9. If one shall bear thee word that such a one hath spoken evil of thee,\nthen do not defend thyself against his accusations, but make answer: _He\nlittle knew my other vices, or he had not mentioned only these_.\n\n10. There is no necessity to go often to the arena, but if occasion\nshould take thee there, do not appear ardent on any man's side but thine\nown; that is to say, choose that only to happen which does happen, and\nthat the conqueror may be simply he who wins; for so shalt thou not be\nthwarted. But from shouting and laughing at this or that, or violent\ngesticulation, thou must utterly abstain. And when thou art gone away,\nconverse little on the things that have passed, so far as they make not\nfor thine own correction. For from that it would appear that admiration\nof the spectacle had overcome thee.\n\n11. Go not freely nor indiscriminately to recitations.[2] But if thou\ngo, then preserve (yet without being grievous to others) thy gravity and\ncalmness.\n\n12. When thou art about to meet any one, especially one of those that\nare thought high in rank, set before thy mind what Socrates or Zeno had\ndone in such a case. And so thou wilt not fail to deal as it behooves\nthee with the occasion.\n\n13. When thou goest to any of those that are great in power, set before\nthy mind the case that thou wilt not find him at home, that thou wilt be\nshut out, that the doors may be slammed in thy face, that he will take\nno notice of thee. And if even with these things it behooves thee to go,\nthen go, and bear all that happens; and never say to thyself--_It was\nnot worth this_. For that is the part of the foolish, and of those that\nare offended at outward things.\n\n14. In company, be it far from thee to dwell much and over-measure on\nthine own deeds and dangers. For to dwell on thine own dangers is\npleasant indeed to thee, but not equally pleasant for others is it to\nhear of the things that have chanced to thee.\n\n15. Be it far from thee to move laughter. For that habit is a slippery\ndescent into vulgarity;[3] and it is always enough to relax thy\nneighbors' respect for thee.\n\n16. And it is dangerous to approach to vicious conversation. Therefore,\nwhen anything of the kind may arise, rebuke, if there is opportunity,\nhim who approaches thereto. But if not, then at least by silence and\nblushing and grave looks, let it be plain that his talk is disagreeable\nto thee.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nON HABIT.\n\n\n1. Every skill and faculty is maintained and increased by the\ncorresponding acts; as, the faculty of walking by walking, of running by\nrunning. If you will read aloud well, then do it constantly; if you will\nwrite, then write. But when you have not read aloud for thirty days\ntogether, but done something else, you shall see the result. Thus, if\nyou have lain down for ten days, then rise up and endeavor to walk a\ngood distance, and you shall see how your legs are enfeebled. In\ngeneral, then, if you would make yourself skilled in anything, then do\nit; and if you would refrain from anything, then do it not, but use\nyourself to do rather some other thing instead of it.\n\n2. And thus it is in spiritual things also. When thou art wrathful, know\nthat not this single evil hath happened to thee, but that thou hast\nincreased the aptness to it, and, as it were, poured oil upon the fire.\nWhen thou art overcome in passion, think not that this defeat is all;\nbut thou hast nourished thine incontinence, and increased it. For it is\nimpossible but that aptitudes and faculties should spring up where they\nwere not before, or spread and grow mightier, by the corresponding acts.\nAnd thus, surely, do also, as the philosopher says, the infirmities of\nthe soul grow up. For when thou hast once been covetous of money, if\nReason, which leadeth to a sense of the vice, be called to aid, then\nboth the desire is set at rest, and our ruling faculty is\nre-established, as it was in the beginning. But if thou bring no remedy\nto aid, then shall the soul return no more to the first estate; but when\nnext excited by the corresponding appearance, shall be kindled to desire\neven more quickly than before. And when this is continually happening,\nthe soul becomes callous in the end, and through its infirmity the love\nof money is strengthened. For he that hath had a fever, when the illness\nhath left him, is not what he was before his fever, unless he have been\nentirely healed. And somewhat on this wise also it happens in the\naffection of the soul: certain traces and scars are left in it, the\nwhich if a man do not wholly eradicate, when he hath been again scoured\non the same place, it shall make no longer scars, but sores.\n\n3. Wouldst thou, then, be no longer of a wrathful temper? Then do not\nnourish the aptness to it, give it nothing that will increase it, be\ntranquil from the outset, and number the days when thou hast not been\nwrathful. _I have not been wrathful now for one, nor for two, nor for\nthree days_; but if thou have saved thirty days, then sacrifice to God.\nFor the aptness is at first enfeebled, and then destroyed. _To-day I was\nnot vexed, nor to-morrow, nor for two or three months together; but I\nwas heedful when anything happened to move me thus._ Know that thou art\nin good case. To-day, when I saw a fair woman, I did not say to myself,\n_Would that one could possess her_; nor, _Happy is her husband_, for he\nwho saith this saith also, _Happy is her paramour_; nor do I picture to\nmy mind what should follow. But I stroke my head, and say, _Well done,\nEpictetus! you have solved a fine sophism, finer by far than the master\nsophism_. But if she were also willing and consenting, and sent to me,\nand if she also laid hold of me, and drew near to me, and I should yet\nrestrain myself and conquer, this were indeed then a sophism above the\nLiar, above the Quiescent. Verily, for this a man's spirit may rightly\nswell, and not for propounding the master sophism.[1]\n\n4. How, then, may this come to pass? Resolve at last to seek thine own\ncommendation, to appear fair in the eyes of God; desire to become pure\nwith thine own pure self, and with God. Then when thou shalt fall in\nwith any appearance such as we have spoken of, what saith Plato? Go to\nthe _purifying sacrifices, go and pray in the temples of the\nprotecting Gods_.[2] It shall even suffice if thou seek the company of\ngood and wise men, and try thyself by one of them, whether he be one of\nthe living or of the dead.\n\n5. By opposing these remedies thou shalt conquer the appearance, nor be\nled captive by it. But at the outset, be not swept away by the vehemence\nof it; but say, _Await me a little, thou appearance; let me see what\nthou art, and with what thou hast to do; let me approve thee_. And then\npermit it not to lead thee forward, and to picture to thee what should\nfollow, else it shall take possession of thee, and carry thee\nwhithersoever it will. But rather bring in against it some other fair\nand noble appearance, and therewithal cast out this vile one. And if\nthou use to exercise thyself in this way, thou shalt see what shoulders\nand nerves and sinews thou wilt have! But now we have only wordiness,\nand nothing more.\n\n6. This is the true athlete,[3] he who exerciseth himself against such\nappearances. Hold, unhappy man! be not swept away. Great is the contest,\ndivine the task, for kingship, for freedom, for prosperity, for\ntranquillity. Be mindful of God, call Him to be thy helper and defender,\nas men at sea call upon the Dioscuri in a storm.[4] For what greater\ntempest is there than that which proceedeth from appearances, that\nmightily overcome and expel the Reason? Yea, a storm itself, what is it\nbut an appearance? For, take away only the dread of death, and bring as\nmany thunderings and lightnings as thou wilt, and thou shalt see what\nfair weather and calm there will be in the ruling faculty. But if having\nbeen once defeated, thou shalt say, _The next time I will conquer_; and\nthen the same thing over again, be sure that in the end thou wilt be\nbrought to such a sorry and feeble state that henceforth thou wilt not\nso much as know that thou art sinning; but thou wilt begin to make\nexcuses for the thing, and then confirm that saying of Hesiod to be\ntrue:--\n\n  \"With ills unending strives the putter off.\"\n                             --_Works and Days_, 411.\n\n7. What then? can a man make this resolve, and so stand up faultless? He\ncannot; but this much he can--to be ever straining towards\nfaultlessness. For happy it were if, by never relaxing this industrious\nheed, we shall rid ourselves of at least a few of our faults. But now,\nwhen thou sayest, _From to-morrow I shall be heedful_, know that this is\nwhat thou art saying:--_To-day I shall be shameless, importunate,\nabject; it shall be in others' power to afflict me; to-day I shall be\nwrathful, envious_. Lo, to how many vices dost thou give place! But if\naught be well to-morrow, how much better to-day? if to-morrow suit, how\nmuch better to-day? Yea, and for this, too, that thou mayest have the\npower to-morrow, and not again put it off till the third day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nON DISPUTATION.\n\n\n1. What things a man must have learned in order to be able to reason\nwell have been accurately defined by our philosophers; but in the\nfitting use of them we are wholly unexercised. Give any one of us whom\nye please some ignorant man for a disputant, and he shall find no way to\ndeal with him; but if, when he hath moved him a little, the man answer\nbeside the purpose, he is no longer able to manage him, but either he\nwill revile him, or mock him, and say, _He is an ignorant fellow;\nnothing can be done with him_.\n\n2. But a guide, when he hath found one straying from the way, leads him\ninto the proper road, and does not mock him or revile him, and then go\naway. And do thou show such a man the truth, and thou shalt see that he\nwill follow it. But so long as thou dost not show it, mock him not, but\nbe sensible rather of thine own incapacity.\n\n3. But what? this business of instruction is not very safe at present,\nand least of all in Rome; for he who pursues it will of course feel\nconstrained not to do it in a corner, but he must go to some man of\nconsular rank, it may be, or some rich man, and inquire of him: Sir, can\nyou tell me to whom you have committed the care of your horses?\n_Surely._ Was it, then, to any chance-comer and one inexperienced about\nhorses? _By no means._ Well, then, to whom are your gold and silver\nvessels and raiment entrusted? _Neither are these committed to any\nchance person._ And your body, have you already sought out one to whom\nto commit the care of it? _How not?_ And that also one who is\nexperienced in training and medicine? _Assuredly._ Whether, now, are\nthese the best things you have, or do you possess aught that is better\nthan all of them? _What thing do you mean?_ That, by Zeus, which useth\nall these, and approveth each of them and taketh counsel? _Is it the\nsoul, then, that you mean?_ You have conceived me rightly; it is even\nthis. _Truly I hold that I possess in this something much better than\neverything else._ Can you then declare to us in what manner you have\ntaken thought for your soul? for it is not likely that a wise man like\nyourself, and one of repute in the State, would overlook the best think\nyou possess, and use no diligence or design about it, but leave it\nneglected and perishing? _Surely not._ But do you provide for it\nyourself? and have you learned the way from another, or discovered it\nyourself?\n\n4. And then at last there is danger lest he say first, _Good sir, what\nis this to you? who are you?_ and then, if you persist in troubling him,\nthat he may lift up his hands and smite you. Once I too was an admirer\nof this method until I fell into these difficulties.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHAT WE SHOULD BE SLOW IN ACCEPTING PLEASURE.\n\n\n1. When thou hast received the appearance of some pleasure, then, as in\nother things, guard thyself lest thou be carried away by it, but delay\nwith thyself a little, and let the thing await thee for a while. Then\nbethink thyself of the two periods of time, one when thou shalt be\nenjoying the pleasure, the other, when, having enjoyed it, thou shalt\nafterwards repent of it and reproach thyself. And set on the other side\nhow thou shalt rejoice and commend thyself if thou abstain.\n\n2. But if it seem reasonable to thee to do the thing, beware lest thou\nhave been conquered by the flattery and the sweetness and the allurement\nof it. But set on the other side how much better were the consciousness\nof having won that victory.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHAT WE SHOULD BE OPEN IN OUR DEALINGS.\n\n\nIn doing aught which thou hast clearly discerned as right to do, seek\nnever to avoid being seen in the doing of it, even though the multitude\nshould be destined to form some wrong opinion concerning it. For if thou\ndost not right, avoid the deed itself. But if rightly, why fear those\nwho will wrongly rebuke thee?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHAT HALF TRUE MAY BE ALL FALSE.\n\n\nAs the sayings, _It is day_, _It is night_, are wholly justifiable if\nviewed disjunctively, but not if viewed together, even so at a feast, to\npick out the largest portion for one's self may be justifiable, if we\nlook to the needs of the body alone, but is unjustifiable if viewed as\nit concerns the preservation of the proper community in the feast.\nTherefore, in eating with another person, remember not to look only at\nthe value for the body of the things that are set before thee, but to\npreserve also the reverence due to the giver of the feast.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHAT EACH MAN PLAY HIS OWN PART.\n\n\n1. If thou hast assumed a part beyond thy power to play, then thou hast\nboth come to shame in that, and missed one thou couldst have well\nperformed.\n\n2. And some one having inquired, _How then, shall each of us perceive\nwhat character he befits?_ Whence, said Epictetus, doth the bull alone,\nwhen the lion approacheth, discover his own capacity, and advance to\ndefend the whole herd? It is clear that with the capacity is ever joined\nthe perception of the same, and thus, whoever of us may possess a like\ncapacity will not be ignorant of it. But a bull is not made in a moment,\nnor is a man of generous spirit; but we must have preparation and\nwinter-training,[1] and not lightly rush upon things that do not concern\nus.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHAT WE SHOULD BE CAREFUL OF THE SOUL AS OF THE BODY.\n\n\nIn going about, you are careful not to step upon a nail or to twist your\nfoot. Care thus also lest you injure your ruling faculty. And if we\nobserve this in each thing we do, we shall the more safely undertake it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTHE MEASURE OF GAIN.\n\n\nThe measure of gain for each man is the body, as the foot is for the\nshoe. Take your stand on this, and you shall preserve the measure. But\nif you transgress it, you must thenceforth be borne, as it were, down a\nsteep. And so it is with the shoe, for if you will go beyond the measure\nof the foot, the shoe will be first gilded, then dyed purple, then\nembroidered. For that which hath once transgressed its measure hath no\nlonger any limit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nTHE WORTH OF WOMEN.\n\n\nFrom the age of fourteen years women are flattered and worshiped by\nmen. Seeing thus that there is nothing else for them but to serve the\npleasure of men, they begin to beautify themselves, and to place all\ntheir hopes in this. It were well, then, that they should perceive\nthemselves to be prized for nothing else than modesty and decorum.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nA DULL NATURE.\n\n\nIt betokens a dull nature to be greatly occupied in matters that concern\nthe body, as to be much concerned about exercising one's self, or\neating, or drinking, or other bodily acts. But these things should be\ndone by the way, and all attention be given to the mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nOF ADORNMENT OF THE PERSON.\n\n\n1. A certain young man, a rhetorician, having come to Epictetus with his\nhair dressed in an unusually elaborate way, and his other attire much\nadorned, Tell me, said Epictetus, think you not that some dogs are\nbeautiful, and some horses, and so of the other animals?\n\n----\"I do think it,\" said he.\n\nAnd men too--are not some beautiful and some ill-favored?\n\n----\"How otherwise?\"\n\nWhether, then, do we call each of these beautiful for the same reasons\nand in the same kind, or each for something proper to itself? And you\nshall see the matter thus: Inasmuch as we observe a dog to be formed by\nnature for one end, and a horse for another, and, let us say, a\nnightingale for another, we may in general say, not unreasonably, that\neach of them is then beautiful when it is excellent according to its own\nnature; but since the nature of each is different, different also, it\nseems to me, is the manner of being beautiful in each. Is it not so?\n\nHe acknowledged that it was.\n\nTherefore, that which maketh a dog beautiful maketh a horse ill-favored;\nand that which maketh a horse beautiful, a dog ill-favored; if, indeed,\ntheir natures are different?\n\n----\"So it seems.\"\n\nAnd that which maketh a beautiful Pancratiast,[1] the same maketh a\nwrestler not good, and a runner utterly laughable? And he who is\nbeautiful for the Pentathlon is very bad for wrestling?\n\n----\"It is so,\" he said.\n\nWhat is it, then, that makes a man beautiful? Is it not that which, in\nits kind, makes also a dog or a horse beautiful?\n\n----\"It is that,\" he answered.\n\nWhat, then, makes a dog beautiful? The presence of the virtue of a dog.\nAnd a horse? The presence of the virtue of a horse. And what, then, a\nman? Is it not also the presence of the virtue of a man? And, O youth,\nif thou wouldst be beautiful, do thou labor to perfect this, the virtue\nof a human being. But what is it? Look whom you praise when you praise\nany without affection--is it the righteous or the unrighteous?\n\n----\"The righteous.\"\n\nIs it the temperate or the profligate?\n\n----\"The temperate.\"\n\nIs it the continent or the incontinent?\n\n----\"The continent.\"\n\nThen making yourself such a one as you praise, you will know that you\nare making yourself beautiful; but so long as you neglect these things,\nthough you sought out every device to appear beautiful, you must of\nnecessity be ugly.\n\n2. For thou art not flesh and hair, but a Will: if thou keep this\nbeautiful, then wilt thou be beautiful. But so far I dare not tell thee\nthat thou art ugly, for I think thou wilt more easily bear to hear\nanything else than this. But see what Socrates saith to Alcibiades, the\nmost beautiful and blooming of men: _Endeavor, then, to be beautiful_;\nand what saith he? _Curl thy locks, and pluck out the hairs of thy\nlegs?_ God forbid. But _Set thy Will in order, cast out evil doctrines_.\n\n----\"And how then shall we deal with the body?\"\n\nAs nature made it. Another hath cared for this; commit it to Him.\n\n----\"But what? Shall the body then be uncleansed?\"\n\nGod forbid. But that which thou art and wast made by Nature, cleanse\nthis; let a man be clean as a man, a woman as a woman, a child as a\nchild.\n\n3. For we ought not even by the aspect of the body to scare away the\nmultitude from philosophy; but by his body, as in all other things, a\nphilosopher should show himself cheerful, and free from troubles.\n_Behold, friends, how I have nothing and need nothing; behold how I am\nhomeless and landless, and an exile_, if so it chance, _and hearthless,\nand yet I live more free from troubles than all the lordly and the rich.\nBut look on my body, too; ye see that it is not the worse for my hard\nlife._ But if one saith this to me, having the countenance and garb of a\ncondemned criminal, what God shall persuade me to approach to philosophy\nwhich makes such men as this? God forbid! I would not, were it even to\nbecome a sage.\n\n4. I, indeed, by the Gods, had rather a young man in his first movement\ntowards philosophy came to me with his hair curled than disheveled and\nfoul. For a certain impression of the beautiful is to be seen in him,\nand an aim at what is becoming; and to the thing wherein it seemeth to\nhim to lie, there he applies his art. Thenceforth it only needs to show\nhim its true place, and to say, _Young man, thou seekest the beautiful,\nand thou dost well. Know, then, that it flourishes there where thy\nReason is; there seek it where are thy likes and dislikes, thy pursuits\nand avoidances, for this is what thou hast in thyself of choice and\nprecious, but the body is by nature mud. Why dost thou spend thy labor\nupon it in vain? for that the body is naught, Time shall certainly teach\nthee, though it teach thee nothing else._ But if one come to me foul and\nfilthy, and a mustache down to the knees, what have I to say to him?\nwith what image or likeness can I draw him on? For with what that is\nlike unto Beauty hath he ever busied himself, so as I may set him on\nanother course, and say, _Not here is Beauty, but there_? Will you have\nme tell him, _Beauty consists not in being befouled, but in the Reason_?\nFor doth he even seek Beauty? hath he any impression of it in his mind?\nGo, and reason with a hog, that he shall not roll himself in the mud.\n\n5. Behold a youth worthy of love--behold an old man worthy to love, and\nto be loved in return; to whom one may commit his sons, his daughters,\nto be taught; to whom young men may come, if it please you--that he may\ndeliver lectures to them on a dunghill! God forbid. Every extravagance\narises from something in human nature, but this is near to being one\nthat is not human.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nWHY WE SHOULD BEAR WITH WRONG.\n\n\nWhen some one may do you an injury, or speak ill of you, remember that\nhe either does it or speaks it believing that it is right and meet for\nhim to do so. It is not possible, then, that he can follow the thing\nthat appears to you, but the thing that appears to him. Wherefore, if it\nappear evil to him, it is he that is injured, being deceived. For also\nif any one should take a true consequence to be false, it is not the\nconsequence that is injured, but he which is deceived. Setting out,\nthen, from these opinions, you will bear a gentle mind towards any man\nwho may revile you. For, say on each occasion, _So it appeared to him_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nTHAT EVERYTHING HATH TWO HANDLES.\n\n\nEvery matter hath two handles--by the one it may be carried; by the\nother, not. If thy brother do thee wrong, take not this thing by the\nhandle, _He wrongs me_; for that is the handle whereby it may not be\ncarried. But take it rather by the handle, _He is my brother, nourished\nwith me_; and thou wilt take it by a handle whereby it may be carried.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nON CERTAIN FALSE CONCLUSIONS.\n\n\nThere is no true conclusion in these reasonings: _I am richer than thou,\ntherefore I am better_: _I am more eloquent than thou, therefore I am\nbetter_. But the conclusions are rather these: _I am richer than thou,\ntherefore my wealth is better_: _I am more eloquent than thou, therefore\nmy speech is better_. But thou art not wealth, and thou art not speech.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nPERCEPTION AND JUDGMENT.\n\n\n1. Doth a man bathe himself quickly? Then, say not, _Wrongly_, but\n_Quickly_. Doth he drink much wine? Then say not, _Wrongly_, but _Much_.\nFor whence do you know if it were ill done till you have understood his\nopinion?\n\n2. Thus it shall not befall you to assent to any other things than\nthose whereof you are truly and directly sensible.[1]\n\n3. What is the cause of assenting to anything? The appearance that it is\nso. But if it appear to be not so, it is impossible to assent to it.\nWherefore? For that this is the nature of the mind, to receive the true\nwith favor, the false with disfavor, and the uncertain with\nindifference. The proof of this? Be sure, if you can, at this moment,\nthat it is night. You cannot. Cease to be sure that it is day. You\ncannot. Be sure that the stars are odd in number, or that they are even.\nYou cannot. When, therefore, any man shall assent to what is false, know\nthat he had no will to consent to falsehood; for, as saith Plato, no\nsoul is willingly deprived of the truth, but the false appeared to it to\nbe true. Come, then, what have we in actions corresponding to this true\nand false? The seemly and the unseemly, the profitable and the\nunprofitable, that which concerns me and that which doth not concern me,\nand such like. Can any man think that a certain thing is for his profit,\nand not elect to do it? He cannot. How, then, is it with her who saith--\n\n  \"And will I know the evils I shall do,\n   But wrath is lord of all my purposes?\"\n                              _Medea_, 1079.\n\nFor, did she hold this very thing, to gratify her wrath and avenge\nherself on her husband more profitable than to spare her children? Even\nso: but she was deceived. Show her clearly that she was deceived, and\nshe will not do it; but so long as you show it not, what else hath she\nto follow than the thing as it appears to her? Nothing. Wherefore, then,\nhave you indignation with her, that the unhappy wretch has gone astray\nconcerning the greatest things, and has become a viper instead of a\nhuman being? If anything, will you not rather pity, as we pity the blind\nand the lame, those that are blinded and lamed in the chiefest of their\nfaculties?\n\n4. ----\"So that all these great and dreadful deeds have this same origin\nin the appearance of the thing?\"\n\nThe same, and no other. The _Iliad_ is nought but appearance, and the\nuse of appearances. The thing that appeared to Paris was the carrying\noff of the wife of Menelaus; the thing that appeared to Helen was to\naccompany him. Had it, then, appeared to Menelaus to be sensible that it\nwas a gain to be deprived of such a wife, what would have happened? Not\nonly had there been no _Iliad_, but no _Odyssey_ neither.\n\n----\"On such a little thing do such great ones hang?\"\n\nBut what talk is this of great things? Wars and seditions and\ndestructions of many men, and overthrow of cities? And what is there of\ngreat in these? Nothing. For what is there of greatness in the deaths\nof many oxen and sheep, and the burning or overthrow of many nests of\nswallows or storks?\n\n----\"But are these things like unto those?\"\n\nThey are most like. The bodies of men are destroyed, and the bodies of\noxen and of sheep. The dwellings of men are burned, and the nests of\nstorks. What is there great, what is there awful in this? Or show me\nwherein differeth the dwelling of a man, as a dwelling, from the nest of\na stork, save that the one buildeth his little houses of planks and\ntiles and bricks, and the other of sticks and mud?\n\n----\"Are a stork and a man, then, alike?\"\n\nWhat say you? In body they are most like.\n\n----\"Doth a man, then, differ in no respect from a stork?\"\n\nGod forbid; but in these matters there is no difference.\n\n----\"Wherein, then, doth he differ?\"\n\nSeek, and you shall find that in another thing there is a difference.\nLook if it be not in the observing and studying of what he doth; look if\nit be not in his social instinct, in his faith, his reverence, his\nsteadfastness, his understanding. Where, then, is the great Good or Evil\nfor man? There, where the difference is. If this be saved, and abide, as\nit were, in a fortress, and reverence be not depraved, nor faith, nor\nunderstanding, then is the man also saved. But if one of these things\nperish, or be taken by storm, then doth the man also perish. And in this\nit is that great actions are done. It was a mighty downfall, they say,\nfor Paris, when the Greeks came, and when they sacked Troy, and when his\nbrothers perished. Not so: for through another's act can no man\nfall--that was the sacking of the storks' nests. But the downfall was\nthen when he lost reverence and faith, when he betrayed hospitality and\nviolated decorum. When was the fall of Achilles? When Patroclus died?\nGod forbid; but when he was wrathful, when he bewept the loss of his\ngirl, when he forgot that he was there not to win mistresses but to make\nwar. These, for men, are downfall and storming and overthrow, when right\nopinions are demolished or depraved.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nTHAT THE PHILOSOPHER SHALL EXHIBIT TO THE VULGAR DEEDS, NOT WORDS.\n\n\n1. Thou shalt never proclaim thyself a philosopher, nor speak much\namong the vulgar of the philosophic maxims; but do the things that\nfollow from the maxims. For example, do not discourse at a feast upon\nhow one ought to eat, but eat as one ought. For remember that even so\nSocrates everywhere banished ostentation, so that men used to come to\nhim desiring that he would recommend them to teachers of philosophy, and\nhe brought them away and did so, so well did he bear to be overlooked.\n\n2. And if among the vulgar discourse should arise concerning some maxim\nof thy philosophy, do thou, for the most part, keep silence, for there\nis great risk that thou straightway vomit up what thou hast not\ndigested. And when some one shall say to thee, _Thou knowest naught_,\nand it bites thee not, then know that thou hast begun the work.\n\n3. And as sheep do not bring their food to the shepherds to show how\nmuch they have eaten, but digesting inwardly their provender, bear\noutwardly wool and milk, even so do not thou, for the most part, display\nthe maxims before the vulgar, but rather the works which follow from\nthem when they are digested.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nASCESIS.\n\n\nWhen you have adapted the body to a frugal way of living, do not\nflatter yourself on that, nor if you drink only water, say, on every\nopportunity, _I drink only water_. And if you desire at any time to\ninure yourself to labor and endurance, do it to yourself and not unto\nthe world. And do not embrace the statues; but some time when you are\nexceedingly thirsty take a mouthful of cold water, and spit it out, and\nsay nothing about it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTOKENS.\n\n\n1. The position and token of the vulgar: he looks never to himself for\nbenefit or hurt, but always to outward things. The position and\ncharacter of the philosopher: he looks for benefit or hurt only to\nhimself.\n\n2. The tokens of one that is making advance: he blames none, he praises\nnone, he accuses none, he complains of none; he speaks never of himself,\nas being somewhat, or as knowing aught. When he is thwarted or hindered\nin aught, he accuseth himself. If one should praise him, he laughs at\nhim in his sleeve; if one should blame him, he makes no defense. He goes\nabout like the sick and feeble, fearing to move the parts that are\nsettling together before they have taken hold. He hath taken out of\nhimself all pursuit, and hath turned all avoidance to things in our\npower which are contrary to nature. Toward all things he will keep his\ninclination slack. If he is thought foolish or unlearned, he regardeth\nit not. In a word, he watches himself as he would a treacherous enemy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nTHAT THE LOGICAL ART IS NECESSARY.\n\n\n1. Since Reason is that by which all other things are organized and\nperfected,[1] it is meet that itself should not remain unorganized. But\nby what shall it be organized? For it is clear that this must be either\nby itself or by some other thing. But this must be Reason; or something\nelse which is greater than Reason, which is impossible.\n\n2. \"Yea,\" one may say, \"but it is more pressing to cure our vices, and\nthe like.\"\n\nYou desire, then, to hear something of these things? Hear then; but if\nyou shall say to me, _I know not if you are reasoning truly or falsely?_\nor if I utter something ambiguous, and you shall bid me distinguish,\nshall I lose patience with you and tell you, _It is more pressing to\ncure our vices than chop logic_?\n\n3. For this reason I think the logical are set at the beginning of our\nstudy, even as before the measuring of corn we set the examination of\nthe measure. For unless we shall first establish what is a modius[2] and\nwhat is a balance, how shall we be able to measure or weigh anything?\n\n4. In this case, then, if you have not understood and accurately\ninvestigated the criterion of all other things, and that through which\nthey are understood, shall we be able to investigate and understand\nanything else? and how could we? _Yea, but a modius is a wooden thing,\nand barren._ But it measures corn. _And logic is also barren._ As\nregards this, indeed, we shall see. But even if one should grant this,\nit sufficeth that logic is that which distinguishes and investigates\nother things, and, as one may say, measures and weighs them. Who saith\nthese things? is it Chrysippus alone and Zeno and Cleanthes? but doth\nnot Antisthenes[3] say it? And who wrote that the investigation of terms\nis the beginning of education?--was it not Socrates? and of whom doth\nXenophon write that he began with the investigation of terms, what each\nof them signified?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nGRAMMARIAN OR SAGE.\n\n\nWhen some one may exalt himself in that he is able to understand and\nexpound the works of Chrysippus, say then to thyself: If Chrysippus had\nnot written obscurely, this man would have had nothing whereon to exalt\nhimself. But I, what do I desire? Is it not to learn to understand\nNature and to follow her? I inquire, then, who can expound Nature to me,\nand hearing that Chrysippus can, I betake myself to him. But I do not\nunderstand his writings, therefore I seek an expounder for them. And so\nfar there is nothing exalted. But when I have found the expounder, it\nremaineth for me to put in practice what he declares to me, and in this\nalone is there anything exalted. But if I shall admire the bare\nexposition, what else have I made of myself than a grammarian instead of\na philosopher, save, indeed, that the exposition is of Chrysippus and\nnot of Homer? When, therefore, one may ask me to lecture on the\nphilosophy of Chrysippus, I shall rather blush when I am not able to\nshow forth works of a like nature and in harmony with the words.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nACCOMPLISHMENTS.\n\n\n1. The clearer be the characters in which a book is writ, the more\npleasantly and conveniently shall any man read it. Thus also a man shall\nlisten more conveniently to any discourse if it be conveyed in\nwell-ordered and graceful words. Be it not said, then, that there is no\nfaculty of expression, for this is the thought of a man both impious and\ncowardly[1]--impious, for he holds in disesteem the gracious gifts of\nGod, as if he would take away the serviceable faculty of seeing, or of\nhearing, or indeed this of speaking. Did God give the eyes for nothing?\nAnd was it for nothing that He mingled in them a spirit of such might\nand cunning as to reach a long way off and receive the impression of\nvisible forms--a messenger so swift and faithful? Was it for nothing\nthat He gave the intervening air such efficacy, and made it elastic, so\nthat being, in a manner, strained,[2] our vision should traverse it? Was\nit for nothing that He made Light, without which there were no benefit\nof any other thing?\n\n2. Man, be not unthankful for these things, nor yet unmindful of better\nthings. For seeing and hearing, and, by Zeus, for life itself, and the\nthings that work together to maintain it, for dried fruits, for wine,\nfor oil, do thou give thanks to God. But remember that He hath given\nthee another thing which is better than all these--that, namely, which\nuses them, which approves them, which taketh account of the worth of\neach. For what is that which declareth concerning all these faculties\nhow much each of them is worth? Is it the faculty itself? Heard you\never the faculty of vision tell aught concerning itself? or that of\nhearing? or wheat, or barley, or a horse, or a dog? Nay, but as\nministers and slaves are they appointed, to serve the faculty which\nmakes use of appearances. And if you would learn how much any of them is\nworth, of whom will you inquire? who shall give answer? How then shall\nany other faculty be greater than this, which both useth the others as\nits servants, and the same approveth each of them and declareth\nconcerning them? For which of them knoweth what itself is, and what it\nis worth? Which of them knoweth when it behooves to make use of it, and\nwhen not? What is that which openeth and closeth the eyes, turning them\naway from things which they should not behold, and guiding them towards\nother things? Is it the faculty of vision? Nay, but the faculty of the\nWill. What is that which closeth and openeth the ears?--that in\nobedience to which they become busy and curious, or again, unmoved by\nwhat they hear? Is it the faculty of hearing? It is no other than that\nof the Will.\n\n3. Being then so great a faculty, and set over all the rest, let it come\nto us and tell us that the best of existing things is the flesh! Not\neven if the flesh itself affirmed that it was the best, would any man\nhave patience with it. Now what is it, Epicurus, which declares this\ndoctrine, that the flesh is best, which wrote concerning the _End of\nBeing_, and on _Laws of Nature_, and on the _Canon of Truth_?--which let\nthy beard grow? which wrote, when dying, that it was spending its last\nday and a happy one?[3] Is it the flesh or the Will? Wilt thou affirm,\nthen, that thou hast aught better than the Will? Nay, but art thou not\nmad--so blind, in truth, and deaf as thou art?\n\n4. What then? Shall any man contemn the other faculties? God forbid!\nDoth any man say that there is no use or eminence in the faculty of\neloquence? God forbid--that were senseless, impious, thankless towards\nGod. But to each thing its true worth. For there is a certain use in an\nass, but not so much as in an ox; and in a dog, but not so much as in a\nslave; and in a slave, but not so much as in a citizen; and in citizens,\nbut not so much as in governors. Yet not because other things are better\nis the use which anything affords to be contemned. There is a certain\nworth in the faculty of eloquence, but not so much as in the Will. When,\nthen, I speak thus, let no man deem that I would have you neglect the\npower of eloquence, for I would not have you neglect your eyes, or ears,\nor hands, or feet, or raiment, or shoes. But if one ask me which is,\nthen, the best of existing things, what shall I say? The faculty of\neloquence I cannot say, but that of the Will, when it is made right. For\nthis is that which useth the other, and all the other faculties, both\nsmall and great. When this is set right, a man that was not good becomes\ngood; when it is not right, the man becomes evil. This is that whereby\nwe fail or prosper--whereby we blame others, or approve them; the\nneglect of which is the misery, and the care of it the happiness, of\nmankind.\n\n5. But to take away the faculty of eloquence, and to say that there is\nin truth no such faculty, is not only the part of a thankless man toward\nHim who hath given it, but also of a cowardly. For such a one seemeth to\nme to fear lest if there be any faculty of this kind we shall not be\nable to despise it. Such are they also which say that there is no\ndifference between beauty and ugliness. Then were a man to be affected\nin like manner on seeing Thersites and Achilles, or on seeing Helen and\nany common woman?[4] Truly, a thought of fools and boors, and of men who\nknow not the nature of each thing, but fear lest, if one perceive the\ndifference, he shall be straightway swept away and overpowered by it.\nBut the great thing is this--to leave to each the faculty that it hath,\nand so leaving it to scan the worth of the faculty, and to learn what is\nthe greatest of existing things; and everywhere to pursue this, and be\nzealous about this, making all other things accessory to this, albeit,\naccording to our powers, not neglecting even these. For of the eyes also\nmust we take care, yet not as of the best thing; yet of these, too, by\nthe very exercise of the best thing; since that shall in no other wise\nsubsist according to Nature save by wise dealing in these matters, and\npreferring certain things to others.\n\n6. But what is done in the world? As if a man journeying to his own\ncountry should pass by an excellent inn, and the inn being agreeable to\nhim, should stay, and abide in it. Man, thou hast forgotten thy purpose;\nthy journeying was not to this, but through this. _But this is\npleasant._ And how many other inns are pleasant, and how many meadows?\nyet merely for passing through. But thy business is this, to arrive in\nthy native country, to remove the fears of thy kinsfolk, to do, thyself,\nthe duties of a citizen, to marry, to beget children, to fill the\ncustomary offices. For thou art not come into this world to choose out\nits pleasanter places, but to dwell in those where thou wast born, and\nwhereof thou wast appointed to be a citizen. And so in some wise it is\nwith this matter. Since, by the aid of speech and such like deliverance,\nwe must come to our aim, and purify the Will, and order aright the\nfaculty which makes use of appearances; and it is necessary that this\ndeliverance of the doctrines come to pass by a certain use of speech,\nand with a certain art and trenchancy of expression, there are some\nwhich are taken captive by these things themselves, and abide in\nthem--one in the gift of speech, one in syllogisms, one in sophisms, one\nin some such another of these inns, and there they linger and molder\naway, as though they were fallen among the Sirens.\n\n7. Man, thy business was to make thyself fit to use the appearances that\nencounter thee according to Nature, not missing what thou pursuest, nor\nfalling into what thou wouldst avoid, never failing of good fortune, nor\novertaken of ill fortune, free, unhindered, uncompelled, agreeing with\nthe governance of Zeus, obedient unto the same, and well-pleased\ntherein; blaming none, charging none, able of thy whole soul to utter\nthese lines:--\n\n  \"Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, Destiny!\"\n\nThen, having this for thy business, if some little matter of eloquence\nplease thee, or certain speculations, wilt thou stay and abide in them,\nand elect to settle in them, forgetting all that is at home? and wilt\nthou say, _These things are admirable_? Who saith they are not\nadmirable? but for passing through, like inns. What should hinder one\nthat spoke like Demosthenes to be unfortunate? or one that could resolve\nsyllogisms like Chrysippus to be miserable, to grieve, to envy; in a\nword, to be troubled and unhappy? Nothing. Thou seest now that all these\nthings are but inns, and of no worth; but our business was another\nthing. When I say these things to certain persons, they think I am\nrejecting all care about language or speculation. But I do not reject\nthis; I reject the endless occupation with them, the putting our hopes\nin them. If a man by this teaching injureth those who hear him, reckon\nme also among those who do this injury. For I cannot, in order to please\nyou, see that one thing is best and chief of all, and say that another\nis.[5]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nCONSTANCY.\n\n\nAbide in the precepts as in laws which it were impious to transgress.\nAnd whatsoever any man may say of thee, regard it not; for neither is\nthis anything of thine own.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nHOW LONG?\n\n\n1. How long wilt thou delay to hold thyself worthy of the best things,\nand to transgress in nothing the decrees of Reason? Thou hast received\nthe maxims by which it behooves thee to live; and dost thou live by\nthem? What teacher dost thou still look for to whom to hand over the\ntask of thy correction? Thou art no longer a boy, but already a man full\ngrown. If, then, thou art neglectful and sluggish, and ever making\nresolve after resolve, and fixing one day after another on which thou\nwilt begin to attend to thyself, thou wilt forget that thou art making\nno advance, but wilt go on as one of the vulgar sort, both living and\ndying.\n\n2. Now, at last, therefore hold thyself worthy to live as a man of full\nage and one who is pressing forward, and let everything that appeareth\nthe best be to thee as an inviolable law. And if any toil or pleasure or\nreputation or the loss of it be laid upon thee, remember that now is the\ncontest, here already are the Olympian games, and there is no deferring\nthem any longer, and that in a single day and in a single trial ground\nis to be lost or gained.\n\n3. It was thus that Socrates made himself what he was, in all things\nthat befell him having regard to no other thing than Reason. But thou,\nalbeit thou be yet no Socrates, yet as one that would be Socrates, so it\nbehooveth thee to live.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nPARTS OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n1. The first and most necessary point in philosophy is the use of the\nprecepts, for example, not to lie. The second is the proof of these, as,\nWhence it comes that it is wrong to lie? The third is that which giveth\nconfirmation and coherence to the others, such as, Whence it comes that\nthis is proof? for what is proof? what is consequence? what is\ncontradiction? what is truth? what is falsehood?\n\n2. Thus the third point is necessary through the second, and the second\nthrough the first. But the most necessary of all, and that when we\nshould rest, is the first, But we do the contrary. For we linger on the\nthird point, and spend all our zeal on that, while of the first we are\nutterly neglectful, and thus we are liars; but the explanation of how it\nis shown to be wrong to lie we have ever ready to hand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nMEMORABILIA.\n\n\nHold in readiness for every need, these--\n\n   \"Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, Destiny, whithersoever ye\n   have appointed me to go, and may I follow fearlessly. But\n   if in an evil mind I be unwilling, still must I follow.\"\n\n   \"That man is wise among us, and hath understanding of\n   things divine, who hath nobly agreed with Necessity.\"\n\nBut the third also--\n\n   \"O Crito, if so it seem good to the Gods so let it be.\n   Anytus and Meletus are able to kill me indeed, but to\n   harm me, never.\"[1]\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n\nCLEANTHES HYMN TO ZEUS.\n\n   [1] Professor Mahaffy, in his _Greek Life and Thought_, quotes\n   the full text of this noble Hymn, which, he thinks, \"would\n   alone redeem the Hellenistic age, as it stands before us, from\n   the charge of mere artificiality and pedantry.\"\n\n   [2] [Greek: ies mimema lachontes mounon]. This is Zeller's\n   reading, but not Professor Mahaffy's, who has [Greek: henos\n   mimema].\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n\nBOOK I.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n1. \"Enter by the door\" (_cf._ S. John, x. 1). The parallelisms in\nthought and expression between Epictetus and the New Testament have\noften been noticed, and the reader will discover many others, to which I\nhave not thought it necessary to draw attention.\n\n  \"Conceit:\" [Greek: oiesis], _Einbildung_.\n\n3. \"To be elated:\" [Greek: epairesthai]. One might translate, \"to be\npuffed up,\" except that that expression is only used in a bad sense, and\none may be \"elated\" in anything that is truly of the nature of the good.\nThe Stoics distinguished between [Greek: chara], joy, and [Greek:\nhedone], pleasure; not rejecting or despising the former.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n1. [Greek: ta men eisin eph' hemin, ta de ouk eph' hemin]. A\nfundamental distinction in the Epictetean system, which he sometimes\nexpresses by the phrases, [Greek: ta hemetera] and [Greek: ta ton\nallon]--things that are our own and things that belong to others; or\n[Greek: ta idia] and [Greek: ta allotria]--things that are our\nproper concern, and things that are alien to us.\n\n2. On the Mons Palatinus in Rome there stood a temple to Fever. Upton\nquotes from Gruter, p. xcvii., an interesting inscription to this\ndivinity: Febri. Divae. Febri. Sanctae. Febri. Magnae. Camilla. Amata. Pro.\nFilio. Male. Affecto. P.\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n1. There is excellent MS. authority for this reading of the passage,\nwhich, however, is not Schweighaeuser's. The latter reads: \"Be content\nwith them, and pray to the Gods.\"\n\n2. \"Steward of the winds.\" A quotation from Homer, _Od._ x. 21.\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n1. \"Through not being dazzled,\" etc. [Greek: An tas hylas me\nthaumase].\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n1. Note that in this passage \"God\" and \"the Gods\" and \"the Divine\" are\nall synonymous terms.\n\n2. Or \"of names.\"\n\n3. Some texts add \"such as Good or Evil.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n1. Apparently a proverb, which maybe paralleled in its present\napplication by Luther's \"Pecca fortiter.\"\n\n2. A complex or conjunctive proposition is one which contains several\nassertions so united as to form a single statement which will be false\nif any one of its parts is false--_e.g._, \"Brutus was the lover and\ndestroyer both of Caesar and of his country.\" The disjunctive is when\nalternative propositions are made, as \"Pleasure is either good or bad,\nor neither good nor bad.\"\n\n3. I have followed Lord Shaftesbury's explanation of this passage, which\nthe other commentators have given up as corrupt. It seems clear that\nwhether the passage can stand exactly in the form in which we have it,\nor not, Lord Shaftesbury's rendering represents what Epictetus\noriginally conveyed.\n\n4. According to the usual reading, a scornful exclamation--\"_Thou_\nexhort them!\" I have followed the reading recommended by Schw. in his\nnotes, although he does not adopt it in his text.\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n1. The founder of the Cynic school was Antisthenes, who taught in the\ngymnasium named the Cynosarges, at Athens; whence the name of his\nschool. Zeller takes this striking chapter to exhibit Epictetus's\n\"philosophisches Ideal,\" the Cynic being the \"wahrer Philosoph,\" or\nperfect Stoic. (Phil. d. Gr. iii. S. 752.) This view seems to me no more\ntrue than that the missionary or monk is to be considered the ideal\nChristian. Epictetus takes pains to make it clear that the Cynic is a\nStoic with a special and separate vocation, which all Stoics are by no\nmeans called upon to take up. Like Thoreau, that modern Stoic, when he\nwent to live at Walden, the Cynic tries the extreme of abnegation in\norder to demonstrate practically that man has resources within himself\nwhich make him equal to any fate that circumstances can inflict.\n\n2. [Greek: tribonion], a coarse garment especially affected by the\nCynics, as also by the early Christian ascetics.\n\n3. \"Nor pity.\" Upton, in a note on _Diss._ i. 18. 3. (Schw.), refers to\nvarious passages in Epictetus where pity and envy are mentioned\ntogether as though they were related emotions, and aptly quotes Virgil\n(_Georg._ ii. 499):--\n\n  \"Aut doluit miserans inopem, aut invidit habenti.\"\n\nIt will be clear to any careful reader that when Epictetus asserts that\ncertain emotions or acts are unworthy of a man, he constantly means the\n\"man\" to be understood as his highest spiritual faculty, his deepest\nsense of reason, his soul. That we are not to pity or grieve means that\nthat side of us which is related to the divine and eternal is not to be\naffected by emotions produced by calamities in mere outward and material\nthings. St. Augustine corroborates this view in an interesting passage\nbearing on the Stoic doctrine of pity (_De Civ. Dei._ ix. 5; _Schw._ iv.\n132):--\n\n\"Misericordiam Cicero non dubitavit appellare virtutem, quam Stoicos\ninter vitia numerare non pudet, qui tamen, ut docuit liber Epicteti\nnobilissimi Stoici ex decretis Zenonis et Chrysippi, qui hujus sectae\nprimas partes habuerunt, hujuscemodi passiones in animum Sapientis\nadmittunt, quem vitiis omnibus liberam esse volunt. Unde fit consequens,\nut haec ipsa non putent vitia, quando Sapienti sic accidunt, ut contra\nvirtutem mentis rationemque nihil possunt.\"\n\nThe particular utterances of Epictetus here alluded to by St. Augustine\nmust have been contained in some of the lost books of the\n_Dissertations_, as nothing like them is to be found explicitly in those\nwhich survive, although the latter afford us abundant means for deducing\nthe conclusion which St. Augustine confirms.\n\n4. This cake seems to form a ridiculous anti-climax. But it appears to\nhave been a vexed question in antiquity whether an ascetic philosopher\nmight indulge in this particular luxury ([Greek: plakous]). Upton\nquotes Lucian and Diogenes Laertius for instances of this question being\npropounded, and an affirmative answer given (in one instance by the\nCynic, Diogenes). The youth in the text is being addressed as a novice\nwho must not use the freedom of an adept.\n\nUpton quotes from Cymbeline:--\n\n  \"Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night,\n  Art they not, but in Britain? Prythee, think,\n  There's living out of Britain!\"\n\nBut Epictetus means more than this in his allusion to sun and\nstars.--See Preface, xxiv. This passage would lead us to suppose that\nEpictetus believed in a personal existence continued for some time after\ndeath. In the end, however, even sun and stars shall vanish.--See ii.\n13, 4.\n\n6. Being arrested by Philip's people, and asked if he were a spy,\nDiogenes replied, \"Certainly I am, O Philip; a spy of thine ill-counsel\nand folly, who for no necessity canst set thy life and kingdom on the\nchances of an hour.\"\n\n7. According to Upton's conjecture, these were gladiators famous for\nbodily strength; and also, one would suspect, for some remarkable\ncalamity.\n\n8. This highly crude view of the Trojan war might have been refuted out\nof the mouth of Epictetus himself. Evil-doers are not to be allowed\ntheir way because they are unable to hurt our souls, but the hurt may be\nin the cowardice or sloth that will not punish them.\n\n9. By wearing his cloak half falling off, in negligent fashion. Nothing\nis finer or more characteristic in Epictetus than his angry scorn of the\npseudo-Stoics of his day.\n\n10. [Greek: anakrinon to daimonion]. The allusion evidently is to\nthe genius or divine spirit by which Socrates felt himself guided.\n\n11. Crates was a disciple of Diogenes. His wife was named Hipparchia.\nUpton quotes Menander (_apud Diog. L._), \"Thou wilt walk about with me\nin a cloak as once did his wife with Crates the Cynic.\"\n\n12. Danaus, father of the fifty Danaidae. AEolus is mentioned in _Od._ x.\nas having six sons and six daughters.\n\n13. [Greek: trapezeas pylaorous]. _Il._ xxi. 69.\n\n14. That is, he capped the quotation by quoting the following line\n(_Il._ ii. 24, 25). Not a very striking intellectual effort; but\nEpictetus evidently considered it a meritorious thing to know Homer well\nenough to quote him in one's sleep, and he was right.\n\n15. From a poem of Cleanthes.\n\n\nBOOK II.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n1. According to the view of James Harris, in a long and valuable note\ncommunicated to Upton, the \"master-argument\" was so called from the\nsupreme importance of the issues with which it dealt. On these issues\ndifferent leaders of the Stoics took different sides, Diodorus holding\nboth future and past things to be _necessary_, Cleanthes both\n_contingent_, and Chrysippus past things to be necessary and future\ncontingent. Any two of the three propositions mentioned in the text\nexclude the third. For modern philosophy the distinction between the\npossible and the certain in the phenomenal world has, of course, no real\nexistence; the possible being simply that of which we do not know\nwhether it will come to pass or not.\n\n2. Of course Epictetus here speaks ironically; all this is just what it\n_is_ the business of a thinker to do.\n\n3. Epictetus, I suppose, means to complain that the current phrases of\nphilosophy are dealt out in glib answer to great ethical questions, just\nas Homer might be quoted for an event in the life of Odysseus, by\npersons who in neither case think of gaining that vital conviction\nwhich only the strenuous exercise of one's own reason can produce. A\nlittle later he represents Hellanicus, the historian, as quoted on the\ndistinction between good and evil, who never treated that subject. If it\nis to be a mere question of _authority_, one _name_ is as good as\nanother, since none is any use at all.\n\n\"Indifferent,\" be it observed, is _morally_ indifferent--that which has\nin _itself_ no bearing on our moral state. See Chap. II. 2.\n\n4. The followers of Aristotle called themselves Peripatetics.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n1. The word in the Greek is [Greek: peristaseis], literally\n_circumstances_, but the word is evidently used in a bad sense, as\nequivalent to afflictions. Doom is likewise etymologically a neutral\nword, but one which has received an evil meaning.\n\n2. Socrates's faith in his genius or \"Daemon\" was well known. In this\npassage from his _Apologia_ (which Epictetus gives from a bad text), it\nis doubtless the manner only that conveyed the idea of mockery. Neither\nSocrates nor any one else ever had better evidence of God's existence\nthan His voice in our conscience.\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n1. Briefly, the three divisions seem to be Action, Character, and\nJudgment. The last is to be approached through training in logic, in the\npenetration of fallacies, etc., by which means a man is to arrive at\nsuch an inward and vital conviction of the truth that he can never for a\nmoment be taken off his guard by the delusion of Appearance.\n\n2. Passions, passionless, [Greek: ta pathe, apathes].--See Index of\nPhilosophic Terms.\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n1. Euripides.--Musonius Rufus, the teacher of Epictetus, is reported to\nhave said, \"Take the chance of dying nobly when thou canst, lest after a\nlittle death indeed come to thee, but a noble death no more.\"\n\n2. This phrase of the \"open door\" occurs frequently in Epictetus,\nusually when, as here, he is telling the average non-philosophic man\nthat it is unmanly to complain of a life which he can at any time\nrelinquish. The philosopher has no need of such exhortation, for he does\nnot complain, and as for death, is content to wait God's time. But the\nStoics taught that the arrival of this time might be indicated by some\ndisaster or affliction which rendered a natural and wholesome life\nimpossible. Self-destruction was in such cases permissible, and is\nrecorded to have been adopted by several leaders of the Stoics,\ngenerally when old age had begun to render them a burden to their\nfriends.\n\n3. _Nay, thou shalt exist_, etc.--This is the sense given by Zeller's\npunctuation. Schweighaeuser's text would be rendered, \"Thou shalt not\nexist, but something else will,\" etc. Upton changes the text (on his own\nauthority) by transposing an [Greek: ouk]. \"Thou shalt exist, but as\nsomething else, whereof the universe has now no need.\"\n\n4. This does not appear to have been the law in Epictetus's time, for he\nhimself was educated while a slave. But it was a common provision in\nantique states.\n\n5. The ceremony in manumitting a slave.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n1. Chap. VI. i. is a passage from the lost Fifth Book of the Discourses,\npreserved for us in a rather obscure Latin translation by Aulus Gellius.\nDuring a storm at sea, a certain Stoic on board was observed by him to\nlook pale and anxious, though not indeed showing the signs of panic\nexhibited by the other passengers. Questioned afterwards by Gellius on\nthis apparent feebleness in his professed faith, the Stoic produced the\nFifth Book of Epictetus, and read this passage.\n\n2. The third Earl of Shaftesbury, an enthusiastic student of Epictetus,\nhad this dish of water and ray of light engraved, and placed, with the\ninscription, [Greek: panta hypolepsis]--All is Opinion--as an emblem\nat the front of his _Characteristics_. The passage, though interesting,\nis obscure. At one time the \"appearances,\" [Greek: phantasiai], are\ncompared to the ray of light; at another, the doctrines (literally\n\"arts,\" _i. e._, arts of life taught by philosophy) and virtues.\nProbably the explanation is to be found in the view of the Stoics that\nat birth the human soul is a _tabula rasa_, or blank sheet; all our\nknowledge coming from without; that is, from the \"appearances\" which\nsurround us. Moral and philosophic convictions are thus, like all other\nmental states, the result of external impressions.\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n1. The school of Plato was continued at Athens under the title of the\nAcademy. In its later days it produced little except logical puzzles.\n\n2. \"Friend, if indeed, escaping from this war, we were destined\nthereafter to an ageless and deathless life, then neither would I fight\nin the van nor set thee in the press of glorious battle. But now, since\ndeath in a thousand kinds stands everywhere against us, which no man\nshall fly from nor elude, we go; either we shall give glory to another,\nor he to us.\"--Sarpedon's speech, _Iliad_, xii. 322-8.\n\n3. General consent.--The well-known philosophic doctrine, that what all\nmen unite in believing must be true, which has so often been made the\nbasis of arguments against Skepticism in various forms.\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n1. See chap. IV. i.\n\n2. He drew water by night for his gardens, and studied philosophy in the\nday.--_Diog. Laert._ [Upton.]\n\n3. A most characteristic feature of the whole Stoic school was its\ntreatment of ancient mythology and legend. These things were closely and\nearnestly studied, with a constant view to the deeper meanings that\nunderlay the vesture of fable, an attitude which contrasts very\nfavorably with Plato's banishment of the poets from his Republic for\n\"teaching false notions about the Gods.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n1. Gyara, an island in the AEgean, used as a penal settlement.\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n1. _The captain ... the driver_--literally, \"to him who has knowledge\"\n(of the given art).\n\n2. Liberator--[Greek: karpistes]. The person appointed by law to carry\nout the ceremony of the manumission of slaves.\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n1. This chapter seems to me to contain a truth expressed so baldly and\ncrudely as to appear a falsehood. The reader's mind will be fixed upon\nthe truth or falsehood according as he is or is not capable of reading\nEpictetus with understanding.\n\n2. This earthen lamp was sold, according to Lucian, at the death of\nEpictetus for 3,000 drachmae (about L120).--_Adv. Indoct._ 13.\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n1. Parodying a verse of Euripides on the stream of Dirce in Boeotia.\nThe Marcian aqueduct brought water to Rome.\n\n2. I adopt Upton's conjecture for the inexplicable [Greek: en boos\nkoilia].\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n1. An eminent Cynic (also mentioned by Seneca and Tacitus).\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\n1. This is the reading of one of the Christian Paraphrases. The other\nversions add the words [Greek: pros allelous] after [Greek: ex hon\nou diapherometha], giving the sense \"from things in which we do not\ndiffer from each other.\" It is no uncommon thing for all the versions of\nEpictetus to unite in a manifestly corrupt reading, and though in this\ncase the received text is not an impossible one, I have thought myself\njustified in following the variant of the Paraphrase.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\n1. There is an allusion to this curious feature of the Olympic contests\nin the Fourth Idyll of Theocritus. Casaubon (_Lect. Theocr._ ad Idyll.\n4) quoted by Schweighaeuser, in his note on this passage (_Diss._ III.\nxv. 4), shows from Festus Pompeius that there was a statue in the\nCapitol of a youth bearing a spade after the manner of the Olympic\ncombatants.\n\n2. Euphrates, a Stoic philosopher, and contemporary of Epictetus. He was\ntutor of Pliny, the younger.\n\n3. The pentathlos contended in five athletic exercises--viz., running,\nleaping, throwing the quoit, throwing the javelin, wrestling.\n\n4. Much of this must refer to the period of probation or discipleship,\nfor Epictetus is clear that the ordinary Stoic (who had not embraced the\nspecial mission of Cynicism) was not required to forsake his family, or\nhis affairs, or his duties as a citizen, nor even justified in doing so.\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n1. The husk is, of course, the body. If it is maintained that Nature has\nmade the ease of this our only proper pursuit, of course the altruistic,\nor social instincts have to be rejected and denied.\n\n2. The text is here almost certainly corrupt. It runs [Greek: pos oun\nhyponoetikoi esmen, hois me physike esti pros ta ekgona\nphilostorgia]. All the MSS. agree in [Greek: hyponoetikoi], for which\nSchweighaeuser desires to read [Greek: pronoetikoi], and Wolf, [Greek:\neti koinonikoi]. Salmasius declares emphatically for [Greek: pos\noun epinoeis hoti koinonikoi esmen], and this, with a slight\nalteration suggested to me by an eminent living scholar, is the reading\nI have adopted: Let us suppose that Epictetus said [Greek: pos oun\nhyponoeis hoti k.e.], and that this was written in the short lines\ncommon in Greek MSS.:--\n\n[Greek:\n\n  POSOUNYPO\n  NOEISOTIKOI\n  NONIKOI]\n\nThe second line, beginning with the same letter as the third, might\neasily be dropped by a transcriber, and the next transcriber would\ncertainly change the resulting [Greek: hypononikoi] to [Greek:\nhyponoetikoi]. The existing reading might give the sense, \"How are we,\nthen, suspicious of those (if any there be) to whom Nature has given no\naffection for their offspring?\"\n\n3. Outward things--such as making provision for one's family, serving\nthe State, etc.,--actions which are not directly concerned with our\nspiritual good.\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n1. Phrygia, the birthplace of Epictetus, was one of the great centers\nof the wild and fearful cult of Cybele, whose priests gashed and\nmutilated themselves in the excitement of the orgie.\n\n2. Philosophy is brought upon the scene, speaking first through the\nmouth of a Stoic, afterwards through that of an Epicurean, and the\npractical results of each system are exhibited.\n\n3. The Athenians, rather than submit to Xerxes, abandoned their city to\nbe plundered, and took to their fleet, the victory at Salamis rewarding\ntheir resolve.\n\nThose who died at Thermopylae were the three hundred Spartans under\nLeonidas, who held the pass against the Persian host till all were\nslain. Often as their heroism has been celebrated, perhaps nothing more\nworthy of their valor has been written than the truly laconic epitaph\ncomposed for them by Simonides:\n\n  \"Stranger, the Spartans bade us die:\n  Go, tell them, thou, that here we lie.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n1. The sense of human dignity was strong in Epictetus, and he would have\nit practically observed in men's relations with each other. Compare Ch.\nv. 7. Zeller must have overlooked these Fragments of Epictetus when he\nasserted (p. 301) that no Stoic philosopher had ever condemned slavery.\nSo far as we know, however, this is the only condemnation of that\ninstitution ever uttered by any Pagan thinker. The usual Stoic view was\nlaid down by Chrysippus, who defined the slave very much as Carlyle\ndoes, as a \"perpetuus mercenarius\"--a man \"hired for life, from whom\nwork was to be required, a just return for it being accorded (_operam\nexegendam, justa proebenda_)\". This utterance of Epictetus, as of one\nwho knew slavery from within, and certainly was not inclined to\nexaggerate its discomforts, is noteworthy enough.\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n1. Administrator, [Greek: diorthotes]; in Latin, _Corrector_--a State\nofficer of whom inscriptions, etc., make frequent mention, but of whose\nfunctions not much appears to be known beyond what the present chapter\nof Epictetus reveals.\n\n2. Cassiope was a port of Epirus, not far from Nicopolis, where\nEpictetus taught. Schw. conjectures that Maximus was sending his son to\nstudy philosophy at Nicopolis under Epictetus.\n\n3. \"For a correct view of these matters will reduce every movement of\npreference and avoidance to health of body and tranquillity of soul; for\nthis is the perfection of a happy life.\"--Epicurus, _Diog. Laert._ x.\n128. Epictetus's analysis of the Epicurean theory amounts to this, that\nthe pleasure of the soul is the chief good, but that it is only felt\nthrough the body and its conditions.\n\n4. _The overseer of youth._--An officer in certain Greek cities. See\nMahaffy's _Greek Life and Thought_, ch. xvii., on the organization of\nthe _ephebi_.\n\n5. _Aid in works that are according to Nature._--The Greek is--[Greek:\nen tois kata physin ergois parakrate]. There is some difference\nof opinion among commentators as to the meaning of [Greek: parakrate].\nWolf translates, \"hold the chief place\" in natural works. Upton, Schw.,\nand Long render it by \"keep us constant,\" \"sustain us,\" in such works. I\ndo not see why we should not take the word in its plainest sense--that\npleasure should _act together with other forces_ in leading us to do\nwell.\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n1. _Zealous for evil things._--Epictetus must mean things which they\nknow to be evil--evil things _as_ evil. It was a Socratic doctrine which\nwe find again alluded to in this chapter, that no evil is ever willingly\nor wittingly done.\n\n2. A favorite theme of later Greek and of Roman comedy was the rivalship\nin love of a father and a son.\n\n3. Admetus, husband of Alcestis, being told by an oracle that his wife\nmust die if no one offered himself in her stead, thought to lay the\nobligation on his father, as being an old man with but few more years to\nlive. The first verse quoted is from the _Alcestis_ of Euripides; the\nsecond is not found in any extant version of that play.\n\n4. Eteocles and Polyneices, sons of Oedipus, quarreled with each other\nabout the inheritance of their father's kingdom. Eteocles having gained\npossession of it, Polyneices brought up the famous seven kings, his\nallies, against Thebes, and fell in battle there by his brother's hand,\nwhom he also killed. The verses quoted are from the _Phoenissae_ of\nEuripides.\n\n5. Schweighaeuser interprets this passage to mean that these men occupy\nthe public places as wild beasts do the mountains, to prey on others. If\nwe might read [Greek: hos ta theria] for [Greek: hos ta ore], we\nshould get a less obscure sense, \"haunt the wilderness--I should say the\npublic places--like wild beasts.\" The passage is clearly corrupt\nsomewhere.\n\n6. Polyneices bribed Eriphyle with the gift of this necklace to persuade\nher unwilling husband to march with him against Thebes where he died.\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n1. The allusion is to _Odyssey_, v. 82-4. \"But he was sitting on the\nbeach and weeping, where he was wont; and tormented his spirit with\ntears and groanings and woes, and wept as he gazed over the barren sea.\"\n\n2. _Let him pity._--See Bk. I., ch. viii., _note_ 3.\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n1. _The conflagration._--See Preface for an account of the Stoic\nDoctrine of the _Weltverbrennung_.\n\n2. Long suggests that the words translated \"air to air\" might be equally\nwell rendered \"spirit to spirit\" ([Greek: hoson pneumatiou eis\npneumation]), thus finding a place for the soul in this enumeration of\nthe elements of man. But this metaphysical division of man's nature into\na spiritual part and a material part would have been wholly contrary to\nStoic teaching, which admitted no existence that was not material. As a\nmatter of fact, if any of the terms in this enumeration is to be\nunderstood as meaning soul or spirit, it will be fire rather than air.\n\n3. Gods and Powers.--[Greek: theon kai Daimonon].\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n1. _To strangle lions or embrace statues._--Hercules did the former, and\nostentatious philosophers sometimes did the latter in winter-time, by\nway of showing their power of endurance.\n\n2. _The stamp of Nero._--I believe there is no other record than this of\nany rejection of Nero's coins, and those which have come down to us are\nof perfectly good quality. He was declared a public enemy by the Senate,\nand possibly it was decreed at the same time that his coins should be\nwithdrawn from circulation. Dion, quoted by Wise (_apud_ Schweighaeuser),\nreports that this was done in the case of Caligula, after the death of\nthat tyrant.\n\n3. _Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes._--\"A proverb about the\nSpartans, who were defeated in Asia,\" notes the Scholiast on Aristoph.\nPac., 1188-90.\n\n\nBOOK IV.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n1. _Nor can I move without thy knowledge._--From Homer, _Il._ x. 279,\n280, Odysseus to Athene.\n\n2. _The Genius of each man._--[Greek: ton ekaston Daimona].\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n1. _A way wherein to walk._--Literally, the power of using a way. It\nseems to me likely that this term, way--[Greek: hodos], here signifies\nthe Stoic philosophy, just as in the early Church it was used to signify\nChristianity (_e. g._, _Acts_ xxii. 4, and xix. 9, 23).\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n1. _Nor have any object in themselves._--Readers of Lotze will be\nreminded of the term Fuersichseinheit, used by him to denote the\nself-centered quality of true Being. The Greek here is [Greek: ouk\nauta proegoumena], [Greek: proegoumena], being the word used in Bk. I. viii.\n13, and Bk. III. v. 5, for the leading objects or obligations of man.\n\n2. _Would that I had you with me!_--In Long's translation the pronoun\n_you_ is explained to mean God. I can see no reason for this\ninterpretation. The words are, I think, supposed to be uttered by a\ndisciple to his master: they are such as Epictetus may have heard from\nmany of his own disciples as they left him to take their part in the\nworld of action.\n\n3. _Cautious assent_--_i. e._, caution in allowing oneself to entertain\nthe impressions of appearances.\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n1. The strong and growing yearning for some direct, personal revelation\nof God, some supernatural manifestation of His existence and care for\nmen, is noted by Zeller as a special trait of Hellenistic times. Such a\nrevelation must have been longed for by many as the only satisfying\nanswer to the destructive logic of the Pyrrhonists, and men's minds were\nalso of course led that way by the insistence of the Stoic thinkers upon\nthe communion of the individual with God, as the most important of all\npossible relations. Hence the growth of many wild and orgiastic cults at\nthis epoch--all based on the state of ecstasy connected with their rites,\nwhich was ascribed to supernatural influence. With the Stoics this\nmovement took the comparatively sober shape of attention to the\nestablished system of oracular divination. Zeller, however, shows that\nsome Stoics were disposed to rationalize the revelations of the oracles\nby supposing a certain sympathy between the mind of the seer and the\nfuture events which led to the unconscious selection of means of\ndivination which would exhibit the proper signs.--(Z. 339, 340.)\nEpictetus evidently thought more of God's revelation in the conscience\nthan any other.\n\n2. The story is told by Simplicius in his commentary on this chapter.\nTwo friends, journeying together to inquire of the oracle at Delphi,\nwere set upon by robbers; one of them resisted, and was murdered, the\nother either fled or made no effort on his companion's behalf. Arriving\nat the temple of Apollo, he was greeted with the following deliverance\nof the oracle:--\n\n  \"Thou saw'st thy friend all undefended die--\n  Foul with that sin, from Phoebus' temple fly.\"\n\n\nBOOK V.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n1. Simplicius explains that the oath was to be refused, because to call\nGod to witness in any merely personal and earthly interest implies a\nwant of reverence towards Him; but that if there were a question of\npledging one's faith on behalf of friends, or parents, or country, it\nwas not improper to add the confirmation of an oath.\n\n2. Upton quotes allusions to these recitations from Juvenal, Martial,\nand Pliny. Authors would read their own works and invite crowds of\nflatterers to attend. Epict. _Diss._ iii. 23. (Schweighaeuser) is a\nscornful diatribe against the pretentious people who held forth on\nthese occasions, and the people who assembled to hear and applaud them.\nHe contrasts with fashionable reciters and lecturers his own master,\nRufus. \"Rufus was wont to say, _I speak to no purpose, if ye have time\nto praise me_. And, verily, he spoke in such a way that every man who\nsat there thought that some one had accused him to Rufus, he so handled\nall that was going on, he so set before each man's eyes his faults.\"\n\n3. Into vulgarity--[Greek: eis idiotismon].\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n1. The sophism, or puzzle, called the Liar, ran thus:--A liar says he\nlies: if it is true, he is no liar; and if he lies, he is speaking\ntruth. The Quiescent ([Greek: ho hesychazon]) was an invention\nattributed by Cicero to Chrysippus (Acad. ii. 29). When asked of a\ngradually-increasing number of things to say when they ceased to be few\nand became many, he was wont to cease replying, or be \"quiescent,\"\nshortly before the limit was reached--a device which we have some\ndifficulty in regarding as a fair example of Chrysippus's contributions\nto the science of logic. For the master sophism see Bk. II. chap. i.,\n_note_ 1.\n\n2. Plato, _Laws_, ix.:--\"When any of such opinions visit thee, go to the\npurifying sacrifices, go and pray in the temples of the protecting Gods,\ngo to the society of men whom thou hast heard of as good; and now hear\nfrom others, now say for thine own part, that it behooves every man to\nhold in regard the things that are honorable and righteous. But from the\ncompany of evil men, fly without a look behind. And if in doing these\nthings thy disease give ground, well; but if not, hold death the better\nchoice, and depart from life.\"\n\n3. _The true athlete._--Literally, ascetic, [Greek: asketes]; _i. e._,\npracticer.\n\n4. The Dioscuri, or Twins, Castor and Pollux, were the patron deities of\nsailors.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n1. _If viewed disjunctively._--That is, if we say, It is day, or, It is\nnight. This is a difficult chapter, and full of corruptions. The feast\nalluded to is, doubtless, the feast of life, where the Gods are the\nhosts.\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n1. _Winter training._--Such as the Roman troops underwent when in\nwinter-quarters. They were accustomed to exercise themselves with arms\nof double the normal weight, and prepare themselves by marching,\nrunning, leaping, etc., for active service.\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n1. The Pancratium was a contest in which boxing and wrestling were both\nallowable. For the Pentathlon, see Bk. II. chap, xvii., _note_ 3.\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n1. This means, apparently, that the judgment has no right to do more\nthan endorse the deliverances of the perceptive faculty. If a man\ncommits any error, he does it under the conviction that it is in some\nway for his profit or satisfaction; that is, that there is something of\nthe nature of the Good in it. He may be mistaken in this; but so long as\nhe does not know where Good and Evil really lie, he can do no other than\nhe does. The true course, then, for the philosopher is not to condemn\nhim for his actions, but to show him the fundamental error from which\nthey proceed. The expression, \"assent,\" [Greek: synkatatithesthai], is\nthat used by Epictetus in II. vi., etc., where he speaks of the mind as\nbeing imposed on, or taken captive, by the outward shows of things.\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\n1. The Greek is [Greek: Epeide logos estin ho diarthron kai\nexergazomenos ta loipa]. [Greek: diarthroo] means, literally, to\nfashion with joints, hence constitute organically, with interdependence\nof parts. Long translates \"analyze.\"\n\n2. _Modius._--A measure of about two gallons.\n\n3. Antisthenes, about 400 B. C., founder of the Cynic school, which was\nestablished by him in the gymnasium called the Cynosarges (hence the\nname). As a Cynic, his authority would, of course, be respected by the\nhearers of Epictetus. This investigation of terms, or names, is, indeed,\nthe beginning of philosophy and the guide to truth in any sphere, but\nperhaps not every one is competent to undertake it. There must be a real\nand not merely a formal appreciation of the contents of each term. A\nprimrose is one thing to Peter Bell and another to Wordsworth. The term,\nlet us say, Duty, is one thing to a Herbert Spencer and another to a\nKant.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\n1. \"My friends, fly all culture,\" is an injunction reported of Epicurus\n(_Diog. L._ x. 6). However, neglect of form in literary style was a\ncharacteristic of philosophic writers of the Hellenistic period, which\nwas by no means confined to the Epicureans.\n\n2. This passage is corrupt. I follow the reading adopted by\nSchweighaeuser (after Wolf); but it may be noted that Schweighaeuser's\ntranslation follows another reading than that which he adopts in his\ntext, viz.--[Greek: kinoumenou] (being moved), instead of [Greek:\nteinomenou] (being strained). The original, in all versions, is [Greek:\nginomenou], which makes no sense at all.--See Preface, xxiii.\n\n3. The writings enumerated are, of course, works of Epicurus. When\ndying, he wrote in a letter to a friend (_Diog. L._ x. 22) that he was\nspending a happy day, and his last.\n\n4. Stoic [Greek: apatheia] was anything but insensibility. Chrysippus\nheld that many things in the Kosmos were created for their beauty\nalone.--_Zeller_, 171.\n\n5. There is another short chapter on the arts of ratiocination and\nexpression (I. viii. _Schw._), which glances at the subject from a\nsomewhat different point of view from that taken in the chapter which I\nhave given. There Epictetus dwells chiefly on the danger that weak\nspirits should lose themselves in the fascination of these arts: \"For,\nin general, in every faculty acquired by the uninstructed and feeble\nthere is danger lest they be elated and puffed up through it. For how\ncould one contrive to persuade a young man who excels in such things\nthat he must not be an appendage to them, but make them an appendage to\nhim?\"\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\n1. The first of these quotations is from the Stoic Cleanthes, the second\nfrom a lost play of Euripides; in the third Epictetus has joined\ntogether two sayings of Socrates, one from the _Crito_ and one from the\n_Apologia_. Anytus and Meletus were the principal accusers of Socrates\nin the trial which ended in his sentence to death.\n\n\nNOTES ON PRINCIPAL PHILOSOPHIC TERMS USED BY EPICTETUS.\n\n\n   [I give under this head only those terms the exact force\n   of which may not be apparent to the reader in a mere\n   translation.]\n\n   [Greek: Aidemon].--Pious, reverent, modest. The\n     substantive is [Greek: aidos], the German Ehrfurcht\n     (_Wilhelm Meister_, _Wanderjahre_, Bk. II. ch. ii.), a\n     virtue in high regard with Epictetus, who generally\n     mentions it in connection with that of \"faithfulness,\"\n     [Greek: pistis]. In Wordsworth's poem, \"My heart leaps\n     up when I behold a rainbow in the sky,\" the \"natural\n     piety\" which he prays may abide with him in his old age\n     seems to be just that moral sensitiveness or [Greek:\n     aidos] which passes into reverence and worship in the\n     presence of certain things, and into shame and dread in\n     that of others.\n\n   [Greek: Apatheia].--Peace--that is, peace from passion,\n     [Greek: pathe]. [Greek: Pathos] was any affection of\n     the mind causing joy or grief. As it appears from Bk. II.\n     iii. I., [Greek: apatheia] is not, in Epictetus, the\n     state of absolute freedom from these passions, but that\n     of being able to master them so that they shall not\n     overwhelm the inner man.\n\n   [Greek: Diarthrotikos].--That which _organizes_,\n     constitutes organically, forms into a system. From\n     [Greek: arthron], a joint. The word \"analyze,\" by which\n     Long translates [Greek: diarthroun], seems to me wanting\n     in the formative sense expressed by the original.\n\n   [Greek: Dogma].--An opinion, that which seems ([Greek:\n     dokein]) true; generally in the special sense of a\n     philosophic dogma.\n\n   [Greek: Euroein].--To prosper; literally, to flow\n     freely, [Greek: euroia], prosperity. A common Stoic\n     phrase for a happy life.\n\n   [Greek: Eusebeia].--Religion, piety. [Greek:\n     sebomai]--\"_to feel awe_ or _fear_ before God and man,\n     especially when about to do something disgraceful\"\n     (_Liddell and Scott_); to worship, respect, reverence.\n\n   [Greek: Hegemonikon to].--The Ruling Faculty--that in\n     a man which chooses, determines, takes cognizance of good\n     and evil, and sways the inferior faculties ([Greek:\n     dynameis], powers) to its will. Lotze notes this\n     _hegemonic_ quality in the human soul as that which\n     distinguishes it from the bundle of sensations into which\n     the Association Philosophy would resolve it.\n\n   [Greek: thaumazein].--To admire, be dazzled with\n     admiration by, to worship, to be taken up with a thing so\n     as to lose the power of cool judgment. A frequent word in\n     Epictetus, the sense of which is precisely rendered in\n     Hor. _Sat._ I, 4, 28, \"Hunc capit argenti splendor,\n     _stupet_ Albius aere.\"\n\n   [Greek: Idiotes].--One of the vulgar, an unlettered\n     person; in Epictetus, one uninstructed in philosophy.\n     Originally the word meant one who remained in private\n     life, not filling any public office, or taking part in\n     State affairs. A man might be an [Greek: idiotes], or\n     \"layman,\" with respect to any branch of science or art.\n\n   [Greek: Kalos kai agathos].--The good and wise\n     man--literally, beautiful and good. A standing phrase to\n     denote the perfection of human character. [Greek: kalos]\n     is a word sometimes difficult to render. Curtius connects\n     it etymologically with Sanscrit, _kalyas_; Gothic,\n     _hails_=healthy.\n\n   [Greek: Oiesis].--\"Conceit\"--defined by Cicero as\n     \"Opinatio\"--intellectual self-sufficiency, the supposing\n     one's self to know something when one does not. \"The first\n      business of a philosopher,\" says Epictetus, \"is to cast\n     away [Greek: oiesis], for it is impossible that one can\n     begin to learn the things that he thinks he knows\"\n     (_Diss._ II. xvii. 1.) He is not, in short, to be \"wise in\n     his own conceit.\"\n\n   [Greek: orexis, ekklisis, horme, aphorme].--Pursuit,\n     avoidance, desire, aversion. According to Simplicius\n     (Comment. _Ench._ i.), [Greek: orexis] and [Greek: ekklisis]\n     were used by the Stoics to express the counterparts\n     in outward action of the mental affections, [Greek: horme]\n     and [Greek: aphorme], and were regarded as consequent upon\n     the latter.\n\n   [Greek: proairesis].--The Will; but as used in\n     Epictetus, this word implies much more than the mere\n     faculty of volition. Literally, it means a choosing of\n     one thing before another; in Epictetus, the power of\n     deliberately resolving or purposing, the exercise of the\n     reflective faculty being implied. It is hardly to be\n     distinguished from [Greek: to hegemonikon], _q. v._\n\n   [Greek: prolepseis].--\"Natural Conceptions.\" See\n     Preface, xxviii., xxix. The \"primary truths\" of Lord\n     Herbert of Cherbury.\n\n   [Greek: Synkatatithesthai].--To assent to or acquiesce\n     in anything, to ratify by the judgment the emotions\n     produced by external things or events, such as the sense\n     of dread, or pleasure, or reprobation, which they arouse\n     in us. To be on one's guard against the hasty yielding of\n     this assent is one of Epictetus's main injunctions to the\n     aspirant in philosophy.\n\n   [Greek: Tarassesthai].--To be troubled; [Greek:\n     a-taraxia], tranquillity. [Greek: Tarassein] is\n     primarily to stir up, confuse, throw into disorder.\n\n   [Greek: phantasia].--An appearance; with the Stoics, any\n     mental impression as received by the perceptive faculty\n     before the Reason has pronounced upon it, a bare\n     perception.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX OF REFERENCES.\n\n\n   [The references in the right-hand column are to the\n   books, chapters, and verses of the _Dissertations_, to\n   the chapters of the _Encheiridion_, and to the\n   _Fragments_, in Schweighaeuser's edition of Epictetus.]\n\n\n  BOOK I.\n\n  Chap. I. 1            _Frag._ III.\n  Chap. I. 2-5          _Diss._ II. xi. 1-25.\n  Chap. II.             _Diss._ I. xxii. 1-16.\n  Chap. III.            _Diss._ I. i. 1-17.\n  Chap. IV. 1           _Diss._ III. iii. 1-4.\n  Chap. IV. 2           _Diss._ I. xxix. 1-4 to [Greek: labe]\n  Chap. IV. 3           _Diss._ I. xxv. 1-6.\n  Chap. V.              _Ench._ I.\n  Chap. VI.             _Diss._ II. xiv.\n  Chap. VII. 1, 2       _Ench._ II.\n  Chap. VII. 3          _Diss._ I. xv. 7, 8.\n  Chap. VII. 4-6        _Diss._ II. ix. 1-12.\n  Chap. VII. 7          _Frag._ LXXII.\n  Chap. VII. 8          _Diss._ III. xiii. 20-23.\n  Chap. VIII.           _Diss._ III. xxii.\n\n\n  BOOK II.\n\n  Chap. I.              _Diss._ II. xix.\n  Chap. II. 1           _Frag._ LXIX.\n  Chap. II. 2, 3        _Diss._ II. v. 1-9.\n  Chap. II. 4           _Diss._ II. xvi. 15.\n  Chap. II. 5, 6        _Diss._ II. vi. 9-19.\n  Chap. II. 7, 8        _Diss._ II. v. 10-20.\n  Chap. III. 1, 2       _Ench._ III., IV.\n  Chap. III. 3          _Diss._ III. xix.\n  Chap. III. 4, 5       _Ench._ V., VI.\n  Chap. IV. 1, 2        _Diss._ III. ii. 1-10.\n  Chap. V. 1-3          _Diss._ II. i. 1-20.\n  Chap. V. 4            _Diss._ III. xxiv. 94.\n  Chap. V. 5            _Diss._ II. i. 21-29.\n  Chap. VI. 1           _Frag._ CLXXX.\n  Chap. VI. 2           _Diss._ III. iii. 20-22.\n  Chap. VII. 1-4        _Diss._ I. xxvii.\n  Chap. VIII. 1         _Diss._ I. ix. 1-8.\n  Chap. VIII. 2-6       _Diss._ III. xxvi. 1-36.\n  Chap. IX. 1           _Diss._ I. ix. 10-18.\n  Chap. IX. 2           _Diss._ I. xxv. 14-20.\n  Chap. IX. 3           _Diss._ I. xxix. 29.\n  Chap. X. 1-4          _Diss._ I. xix. 1-17.\n  Chap. X. 5-6          _Diss._ IV. vii. 12-18.\n  Chap. X. 7            _Diss._ I. xviii. 17.\n  Chap. X. 8            _Diss._ IV. vii. 19-24.\n  Chap. XI.             _Diss._ I. xviii. 1-16.\n  Chap. XII.            _Ench._ VII.\n  Chap. XIII. 1, 2      _Ench._ VIII.-IX.\n  Chap. XIII. 3-6       _Diss._ II. xvi. 24-47.\n  Chap. XIV.            _Ench._ X.\n  Chap. XV.             _Ench._ XI.\n  Chap. XVI.            _Ench._ XII.\n  Chap. XVII.           _Ench._ XIII.\n  Chap. XVIII. 1, 2     _Ench._ XIV.\n  Chap. XVIII.    3     _Diss._ I. xxv. 22-25.\n  Chap. XVIII.    4     _Ench._ XV.\n  Chap. XIX.            _Ench._ XVI.\n  Chap. XX. 1           _Ench._ XVII.\n  Chap. XX. 2           _Diss._ IV. x. 9-17.\n  Chap. XXI.            _Ench._ XVIII.-XXI.\n  Chap. XXII.           _Ench._ XXII.-XXIII.\n  Chap. XXIII.          _Ench._ XXIV.\n  Chap. XXIV.           _Ench._ XXV.\n  Chap. XXV.            _Ench._ XXVI., XXVII.\n  Chap. XXVI.           _Ench._ XXVIII.\n  Chap. XXVII.          _Ench._ XXIX.\n\n\n  BOOK III.\n\n  Chap. I.              _Ench._ XXX.\n  Chap. II. 1, 2        _Diss._ I. xxiii.\n  Chap. II. 3-7         _Diss._ II. v. 24-30.\n  Chap. III. 1-9        _Diss._ II. xx. 1-27.\n  Chap. IV. 1           _Diss._ I. xiii.\n  Chap. IV. 2, 3        _Frag._ XLIII., XLIV.\n  Chap. V.              _Diss._ III. vii.\n  Chap. VI. 1           _Frag._ LXXXII.\n  Chap. VI. 2           _Frag._ XLV.\n  Chap. VI. 3           _Frag._ LXVII.\n  Chap. VII.            _Diss._ II. xxii.\n  Chap. VIII. 1-10      _Diss._ III. xxiv. 1-49.\n  Chap. VIII. 11        _Diss._ III. xxiv. 58-63.\n  Chap. VIII. 12        _Diss._ III. xxiv. 88-93.\n  Chap. IX. 1, 2        _Diss._ III. xiii. 1-17.\n  Chap. IX. 3           _Frag._ CLXXVI.\n  Chap. IX. 4           _Diss._ III. xiii. 18, 19.\n  Chap. X. 1            _Frag._ LXX.\n  Chap. X. 2            _Diss._ IV. v. 1-4.\n  Chap. X. 3-5          _Diss._ IV. v. 8-21.\n  Chap. X. 6            _Diss._ IV. v. 30-32.\n  Chap. X. 7            _Diss._ IV. v.  { 33 to [Greek: agnomonos].\n                                        { 35-37.\n\n  BOOK IV.\n\n  Chap. I.              _Ench._ XXXI.\n  Chap. II. 1, 2        _Diss._ I. xii. 1-7.\n  Chap. II. 3, 4        _Diss._ I. xiv. 1-17.\n  Chap. III.            _Diss._ I. xvi.\n  Chap. IV. 1, 2        _Diss._ II. viii. 1-8.\n  Chap. IV. 3           _Diss._ I. vi. 13 from [Greek: allo]--22.\n  Chap. IV. 4-8         _Diss._ II. viii. 9-29.\n  Chap. V.              _Ench._ XXXII.\n\n\n  BOOK V.\n\n  Chap. I. 1-5          _Ench._ XXXIII. 1-6,\n  Chap. I. 6            _Diss._ III. xvi. 5-9.\n  Chap. I. 7-16         _Ench._ XXXIII. 7-16.\n  Chap. II. 1-4         _Diss._ II., xviii. 1-21 to [Greek: apothanonton]\n  Chap. II. 5, 6        _Diss._ II. xviii. 23-32.\n  Chap. II. 7           _Diss._ IV. xii. 19-21.\n  Chap. III. 1, 2       _Diss._ II. xii. 1-4.\n  Chap. III. 3, 4       _Diss._ II. xii. 17-25.\n  Chap. IV.             _Ench._ XXXIV.\n  Chap. V.              _Ench._ XXXV.\n  Chap. VI.             _Ench._ XXXVI.\n  Chap. VII. 1          _Ench._ XXXVII.\n  Chap. VII. 2          _Diss._ I. ii. 30-32.\n  Chap. VIII.           _Ench._ XXXVIII.\n  Chap. IX.             _Ench._ XXXIX.\n  Chap. X.              _Ench._ XL.\n  Chap. XI.             _Ench._ XLI.\n  Chap. XII. 1          _Diss._ III. i. 1-9.\n  Chap. XII. 2          _Diss._ III. i. 40-44.\n  Chap. XII. 3, 4       _Diss._ IV. xi. 22-29.\n  Chap. XII. 5          _Diss._ IV. xi. 35, 36.\n  Chap. XIII.           _Ench._ XLII.\n  Chap. XIV.            _Ench._ XLIII.\n  Chap. XV.             _Ench._ XLIV.\n  Chap. XVI. 1, 2       _Ench._ XLV.\n  Chap. XVI. 3          _Diss._ 1. xxviii. 1-9.\n  Chap. XVI. 4          _Diss._ 1. xxviii. 11-25\n  Chap. XVII.           _Ench._ XLVI.\n  Chap. XVIII.          _Ench._ XLVII.\n  Chap. XIX.            _Ench._ XLVIII.\n  Chap. XX. 1           _Diss._ I. xvii. 1, 2.\n  Chap. XX. 2-4         _Diss._ I. xvii. 4-12.\n  Chap. XXI.            _Ench._ XLIX.\n  Chap. XXII. 1, 2      _Diss._ II. xxiii. 1-10.\n  Chap. XXII. 3-7       _Diss._ II. xxiii. 20-47.\n  Chap. XXIII.          _Ench._ L.\n  Chap. XXIV.           _Ench._ LI.\n  Chap. XXV.            _Ench._ LII.\n  Chap. XXVI.           _Ench._ LIII.","title":"The Teaching of Epictetus: Being the 'Encheiridion of Epictetus,' with Selections from the 'Dissertations' and 'Fragments'","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":63967}