101 AD

THE
D ISCOURSES by Epictetus D ISCOURSES
BOOK ONE CHAPTER 1 Of the things which are in our Power, and not in our Power Of
all the faculties , you will find not one which is capable ofcontemplating its elf;
and, cons equently, not capable either ofapproving or dis approving. How far does the
grammatic art pos s es s the contemplating power? As far as forming a judgement about
what is written and s poken. And how far mus ic? As far as judging about melody.D oes
either of them then contemplate its elf? By no means . But when youmus t write
s omething to your friend, grammar will tell you whatwords you mus t write; but
whether you s hould write or not, grammarwill not tell you. And s o it is with mus ic
as to mus ical s ounds ; butwhether you s hould s ing at the pres ent time and play on
the lute, ordo neither, mus ic will not tell you. What faculty then will tellyou?
That which contemplates both its elf and all other things . Andwhat is this faculty?
The rational faculty; for this is the onlyfaculty that we have received which
examines its elf, what it is , andwhat power it has , and what is the value of this
gift, and examines all other faculties : for what els e is there which tells us that
goldenthings are beautiful, for they do not s ay s o thems elves ? Evidentlyit is the
faculty which is capable of judging of appearances . Whatels e judges of mus ic,
grammar, and other faculties , proves theirus es and points out the occas ions for
us ing them? Nothing els e. As then it was fit to be s o, that which is bes t of all
and s upremeover all is the only thing which the gods have placed in our power,the
right us e of appearances ; but all other things they have notplaced in our power.
Was it becaus e they did not choos e? I indeedthink that, if they had been able, they
would have put thes e otherthings als o in our power, but they certainly could not.
For as weexis t on the earth, and are bound to s uch a body and to s uchcompanions ,
how was it pos s ible for us not to be hindered as tothes e things by externals ? But
what s ays Zeus ? "Epictetus , if it were pos s ible, I would havemade both your little
body and your little property free and notexpos ed to hindrance. But now be not
ignorant of this : this body is not yours , but it is clay finely tempered. And s ince
I was not able todo for you what I have mentioned, I have given you a s mall portion
of us , this faculty of purs uing an object and avoiding it, and thefaculty of des ire
and avers ion, and, in a word, the faculty of us ingthe appearances of things ; and if
you will take care of this facultyand cons ider it your only pos s es s ion, you will
never be hindered,never meet with impediments ; you will not lament, you will not
blame, you will not flatter any pers on." "Well, do thes e s eem to you s mall
matters ?" I hope not. "Becontent with them then and pray to the gods ." But now when
it is inour power to look after one thing, and to attach ours elves to it, weprefer
to look after many things , and to be bound to many things , tothe body and to
property, and to brother and to friend, and to childand to s lave. Since, then, we
are bound to many things , we aredepres s ed by them and dragged down. For this
reas on, when theweather is not fit for s ailing, we s it down and torment ours elves ,
andcontinually look out to s ee what wind is blowing. "It is north."What is that to
us ? "When will the wes t wind blow?" When it s hallchoos e, my good man, or when it
s hall pleas e AEolus ; for God has notmade you the manager of the winds , but AEolus .
What then? We mus t makethe bes t us e that we can of the things which are in our
power, and us ethe res t according to their nature. What is their nature then? As God
may pleas e. "Mus t I, then, alone have my head cut off?" What, would you have all
men los e their heads that you may be cons oled? Will you not s tretchout your neck as
Lateranus did at Rome when Nero ordered him to bebeheaded? For when he had
s tretched out his neck, and received afeeble blow, which made him draw it in for a
moment, he s tretched itout again. And a little before, when he was vis ited by
Epaphroditus ,Nero's freedman, who as ked him about the caus e of offens e which he had
given, he s aid, "If I choos e to tell anything, I will tell yourmas ter." What then
s hould a man have in readines s in s uch circums tances ? Whatels e than "What is mine,
and what is not mine; and permitted to me,and what is not permitted to me." I mus t
die. Mus t I then dielamenting? I mus t be put in chains . Mus t I then als o lament? I
mus t gointo exile. D oes any man then hinder me from going with s miles and
cheerfulnes s and contentment? "Tell me the s ecret which youpos s es s ." I will not,
for this is in my power. "But I will put youin chains ." Man, what are you talking
about? Me in chains ? You mayfetter my leg, but my will not even Zeus hims elf can
overpower. "Iwill throw you into pris on." My poor body, you mean. "I will cutyour
head off." When, then, have I told you that my head alonecannot be cut off? Thes e
are the things which philos ophers s houldmeditate on, which they s hould write daily,
in which they s houldexercis e thems elves . Thras ea us ed to s ay, "I would rather be
killed to-day thanbanis hed to-morrow." What, then, did Rufus s ay to him? "If you
choos e death as the heavier mis fortune, how great is the folly of yourchoice? But
if, as the lighter, who has given you the choice? Will younot s tudy to be content
with that which has been given to you?" What, then, did Agrippinus s ay? He s aid,
"I am not a hindrance tomys elf." When it was reported to him that his trial was
going on inthe Senate, he s aid, "I hope it may turn out well; but it is the fifth
hour of the day"- this was the time when he was us ed to exercis ehims elf and then
take the cold bath- "let us go and take ourexercis e." After he had taken his
exercis e, one comes and tells him,"You have been condemned." "To banis hment," he
replies , "or to death?""To banis hment." "What about my property?" "It is not taken
from you.""Let us go to Aricia then," he s aid, "and dine." This it is to have
s tudied what a man ought to s tudy; to have madedes ire, avers ion, free from
hindrance, and free from all that a manwould avoid. I mus t die. If now, I am ready
to die. If, after as hort time, I now dine becaus e it is the dinner-hour; after this
Iwill then die. How? Like a man who gives up what belongs to another. CHAPTER 2
How a Man on every occas ion can maintain his Proper Character To the rational
animal only is the irrational intolerable; butthat which is rational is tolerable.
Blows are not naturallyintolerable. "How is that?" See how the Lacedaemonians
endure whippingwhen they have learned that whipping is cons is tent with reas on. "To
hang yours elf is not intolerable." When, then, you have the opinionthat it is
rational, you go and hang yours elf. In s hort, if weobs erve, we s hall find that the
animal man is pained by nothing s omuch as by that which is irrational; and, on the
contrary, attractedto nothing s o much as to that which is rational. But the
rational and the irrational appear s uch in a different wayto different pers ons ,
jus t as the good and the bad, the profitable andthe unprofitable. For this reas on,
particularly, we need dis cipline,in order to learn how to adapt the preconception
of the rational andthe irrational to the s everal things conformably to nature. But
inorder to determine the rational and the irrational, we us e not onlythe of
external things , but we cons ider als o what is appropriate toeach pers on. For to one
man it is cons is tent with reas on to hold achamber pot for another, and to look to
this only, that if he does nothold it, he will receive s tripes , and he will not
receive his food:but if he s hall hold the pot, he will not s uffer anything hard or
dis agreeable. But to another man not only does the holding of achamber pot appear
intolerable for hims elf, but intolerable als o forhim to allow another to do this
office for him. If, then, you as k mewhether you s hould hold the chamber pot or not,
I s hall s ay to youthat the receiving of food is worth more than the not receiving
of it,and the being s courged is a greater indignity than not being s courged;s o that
if you meas ure your interes ts by thes e things , go and hold thechamber pot. "But
this ," you s ay, "would not be worthy of me." Well,then, it is you who mus t
introduce this cons ideration into theinquiry, not I; for it is you who know
yours elf, how much you areworth to yours elf, and at what price you s ell yours elf;
for men s ellthems elves at various prices . For this reas on, when Florus was
deliberating whether he s hould godown to Nero's s pectacles and als o perform in them
hims elf, Agrippinus s aid to him, "Go down": and when Florus as ked Agrippinus , "Why
donot you go down?" Agrippinus replied, "Becaus e I do not evendeliberate about the
matter." For he who has once brought hims elf todeliberate about s uch matters , and
to calculate the value ofexternal things , comes very near to thos e who have
forgotten their owncharacter. For why do you as k me the ques tion, whether death is
preferable or life? I s ay "life." "Pain or pleas ure?" I s ay"pleas ure." But if I do
not take a part in the tragic acting, Is hall have my head s truck off. Go then and
take a part, but I willnot. "Why?" Becaus e you cons ider yours elf to be only one
thread ofthos e which are in the tunic. Well then it was fitting for you to takecare
how you s hould be like the res t of men, jus t as the thread has nodes ign to be
anything s uperior to the other threads . But I wis h tobe purple, that s mall part
which is bright, and makes all the res tappear graceful and beautiful. Why then do
you tell me to makemys elf like the many? and if I do, how s hall I s till
be purple? Pris cus Helvidius als o s aw this , and acted conformably. For when
Ves pas ian s ent and commanded him not to go into the s enate, hereplied, "It is in
your power not to allow me to be a member of thes enate, but s o long as I am, I mus t
go in." "Well, go in then," s ays the emperor, "but s ay nothing." "D o not as k my
opinion, and I willbe s ilent." "But I mus t as k your opinion." "And I mus t s ay what
Ithink right." "But if you do, I s hall put you to death." "When thendid I tell you
that I am immortal? You will do your part, and I willdo mine: it is your part to
kill; it is mine to die, but not infear: yours to banis h me; mine to depart without
s orrow." What good then did Pris cus do, who was only a s ingle pers on? Andwhat good
does the purple do for the toga? Why, what els e than this ,that it is cons picuous in
the toga as purple, and is dis played als o as a fine example to all other things ? But
in s uch circums tances another would have replied to Caes ar who forbade him to enter
thes enate, "I thank you for s paring me." But s uch a man Ves pas ian wouldnot even
have forbidden to enter the s enate, for he knew that he wouldeither s it there like
an earthen ves s el, or, if he s poke, he would s aywhat Caes ar wis hed, and add even
more. In this way an athlete als o acted who was in danger of dyingunles s his
private parts were amputated. His brother came to theathlete, who was a
philos opher, and s aid, "Come, brother, what are yougoing to do? Shall we amputate
this member and return to thegymnas ium?" But the athlete pers is ted in his
res olution and died. Whens ome one as ked Epictetus how he did this , as an athlete or
aphilos opher, "As a man," Epictetus replied, "and a man who had beenproclaimed
among the athletes at the Olympic games and had contendedin them, a man who had
been familiar with s uch a place, and not merelyanointed in Baton's s chool. Another
would have allowed even his headto be cut off, if he could have lived without it.
Such is thatregard to character which is s o s trong in thos e who have beenaccus tomed
to introduce it of thems elves and conjoined with otherthings into their
deliberations ." "Come, then, Epictetus , s have yours elf." "If I am a philos opher,"I
ans wer, "I will not s have mys elf." "But I will take off yourhead?" If that will do
you any good, take it off. Some pers on as ked, "How then s hall every man among us
perceivewhat is s uitable to his character?" How, he replied, does the bullalone,
when the lion has attacked, dis cover his own powers and puthims elf forward in
defens e of the whole herd? It is plain that withthe powers the perception of having
them is immediately conjoined;and, therefore, whoever of us has s uch powers will
not be ignorantof them. Now a bull is not made s uddenly, nor a brave man; but we
mus tdis cipline ours elves in the winter for the s ummer campaign, and notras hly run
upon that which does not concern us . Only cons ider at what price you s ell your own
will; if for noother reas on, at leas t for this , that you s ell it not for a s mall
s um.But that which is great and s uperior perhaps belongs to Socrates ands uch as are
like him. "Why then, if we are naturally s uch, are not avery great number of us
like him?" Is it true then that all hors es become s wift, that all dogs are s killed
in tracking footprints ? "What,then, s ince I am naturally dull, s hall I, for this
reas on, take nopains ?" I hope not. Epictetus is not s uperior to Socrates ; but if he
is not inferior, this is enough for me; for I s hall never be a Milo,and yet I do
not neglect my body; nor s hall I be a Croes us , and yetI do not neglect my property;
nor, in a word, do we neglect lookingafter anything becaus e we des pair of reaching
the highes t degree. CHAPTER 3 How a man s hould proceed from the principle of God
being thefather of all men to the res t If a man s hould be able to as s ent to this
doctrine as he ought, thatwe are all s prung from God in an es pecial manner, and
that God is the father both of men and of gods , I s uppos e that he would never have
any ignoble or mean thoughts about hims elf. But if Caes ar s hould adoptyou, no one
could endure your arrogance; and if you know that youare the s on of Zeus , will you
not be elated? Yet we do not s o; buts ince thes e two things are mingled in the
generation of man, body incommon with the animals , and reas on and intelligence in
common withthe gods , many incline to this kins hip, which is mis erable and mortal;
and s ome few to that which is divine and happy. Since then it is ofneces s ity that
every man us es everything according to the opinionwhich he has about it, thos e, the
few, who think that they areformed for fidelity and modes ty and a s ure us e of
appearances haveno mean or ignoble thoughts about thems elves ; but with the many it
is quite the contrary. For they s ay, "What am I? A poor, mis erableman, with my
wretched bit of fles h." Wretched. Indeed; but you pos s es s s omething better than your
"bit of fles h." Why then do you neglectthat which is better, and why do you attach
yours elf to this ? Through this kins hip with the fles h, s ome of us inclining to it
become like wolves , faithles s and treacherous and mis chievous : s omebecome like
lions , s avage and untamed; but the greater part of us become foxes and other wors e
animals . For what els e is a s landerer anda malignant man than a fox, or s ome other
more wretched and meaneranimal? See, then, and take care that you do not become
s ome one ofthes e mis erable things . CHAPTER 4 Of progres s or improvement He who
is making progres s , having learned from philos ophers thatdes ire means the des ire of
good things , and avers ion means avers ionfrom bad things ; having learned too that
happines s and tranquillityare not attainable by man otherwis e than by not failing
to obtain whathe des ires , and not falling into that which he would avoid; s uch a
mantakes from hims elf des ire altogether and defers it, but he employs his avers ion
only on things which are dependent on his will. For if heattempts to avoid anything
independent of his will, he knows thats ometimes he will fall in with s omething
which he wis hes to avoid, andhe will be unhappy. Now if virtue promis es good
fortune andtranquillity and happines s , certainly als o the progres s towardvirtue is
progres s toward each of thes e things . For it is always true that to whatever point
the perfecting of anything leads us ,progres s is an approach toward this point. How
then do we admit that virtue is s uch as I have s aid, and yets eek progres s in other
things and make a dis play of it? What is theproduct of virtue? Tranquillity. Who
then makes improvement? It is he who has read many books of Chrys ippus ? But does
virtue cons is t inhaving unders tood Chrys ippus ? If this is s o, progres s is clearly
nothing els e than knowing a great deal of Chrys ippus . But now we admitthat virtue
produces one thing. and we declare that approaching nearto it is another thing,
namely, progres s or improvement. "Such apers on," s ays one, "is already able to read
Chrys ippus by hims elf."Indeed, s ir, you are making great progres s . What kind of
progres s ? Butwhy do you mock the man? Why do you draw him away from theperception
of his own mis fortunes ? Will you not s how him the effect ofvirtue that he may learn
where to look for improvement? Seek it there,wretch, where your work lies . And
where is your work? In des ire and inavers ion, that you may not be dis appointed in
your des ire, and thatyou may not fall into that which you would avoid; in your
purs uitand avoiding, that you commit no error; in as s ent and s us pens ion ofas s ent,
that you be not deceived. The firs t things , and the mos tneces s ary, are thos e which
I have named. But if with trembling andlamentation you s eek not to fall into that
which you avoid, tell mehow you are improving. D o you then s how me your
improvement in thes e things ? If I weretalking to an athlete, I s hould s ay, "Show me
your s houlders "; andthen he might s ay, "Here are my halteres ." You and your
halteres look to that. I s hould reply, "I wis h to s ee the effect of thehalteres ."
So, when you s ay: "Take the treatis e on the activepowers , and s ee how I have
s tudied it." I reply, "Slave, I am notinquiring about this , but how you exercis e
purs uit and avoidance,des ire and avers ion, how your des ign and purpos e and prepare
yours elf,whether conformably to nature or not. If conformably, give me evidenceof
it, and I will s ay that you are making progres s : but if notconformably, be gone,
and not only expound your books , but writes uch books yours elf; and what will you
gain by it? D o you not knowthat the whole book cos ts only five denarii? D oes then
the expounders eem to be worth more than five denarii? Never, then, look for the
matter its elf in one place, and progres s toward it in another." Where then is
progres s ? If any of you, withdrawing hims elf fromexternals , turns to his own will
to exercis e it and to improve it bylabour, s o as to make it conformable to nature,
elevated, free,unres trained, unimpeded, faithful, modes t; and if he has learnedthat
he who des ires or avoids the things which are not in his powercan neither be
faithful nor free, but of neces s ity he mus t change withthem and be tos s ed about
with them as in a tempes t, and of neces s itymus t s ubject hims elf to others who have
the power to procure orprevent what he des ires or would avoid; finally, when he
ris es inthe morning, if he obs erves and keeps thes e rules , bathes as a manof
fidelity, eats as a modes t man; in like manner, if in everymatter that occurs he
works out his chief principles as the runnerdoes with reference to running, and the
trainer of the voice withreference to the voice- this is the man who truly makes
progres s ,and this is the man who has not traveled in vain. But if he has s trained
his efforts to the practice of reading books , and labours only at this , and has
traveled for this , I tell him to return homeimmediately, and not to neglect his
affairs there; for this forwhich he has traveled is nothing. But the other thing is
s omething, tos tudy how a man can rid his life of lamentation and groaning, and
s aying, "Woe to me," and "wretched that I am," and to rid it als o ofmis fortune and
dis appointment and to learn what death is , and exile,and pris on, and pois on, that
he may be able to s ay when he is infetters , "D ear Crito, if it is the will of the
gods that it be s o, letit be s o"; and not to s ay, "Wretched am I, an old man; have
I keptmy gray hairs for this ?" Who is it that s peaks thus ? D o you think thatI s hall
name s ome man of no repute and of low condition? D oes notPriam s ay this ? D oes not
OEdipus s ay this ? Nay, all kings s ay it! For what els e is tragedy than the
perturbations of men who valueexternals exhibited in this kind of poetry? But if a
man mus t learn byfiction that no external things which are independent of the will
concern us , for this ? part I s hould like this fiction, by the aid ofwhich I s hould
live happily and undis turbed. But you mus t cons ider foryours elves what you wis h.
What then does Chrys ippus teach us ? The reply is , "to know thatthes e things are not
fals e, from which happines s comes andtranquillity aris es . Take my books , and you
will learn how true andconformable to nature are the things which make me free from
perturbations ." O great good fortune! O the great benefactor whopoints out the way!
To Triptolemus all men have erected temples andaltars , becaus e he gave us food by
cultivation; but to him whodis covered truth and brought it to light and
communicated it to all,not the truth which s hows us how to live, but how to live
well, who ofyou for this reas on has built an altar, or a temple, or has dedicated a
s tatue, or who wors hips God for this ? Becaus e the gods have given the vine, or
wheat, we s acrifice to them: but becaus ethey have produced in the human mind that
fruit by which they des ignedto s how us the truth which relates to happines s , s hall
we not thankGod for this ? CHAPTER 5 Agains t the academics If a man, s aid
Epictetus , oppos es evident truths , it is not eas yto find arguments by which we
s hall make him change his opinion. Butthis does not aris e either from the man's
s trength or the teacher's weaknes s ; for when the man, though he has been confuted,
is hardenedlike a s tone, how s hall we then be able to deal with him by argument?
Now there are two kinds of hardening, one of the unders tanding,the other of the
s ens e of s hame, when a man is res olved not toas s ent to what is manifes t nor to
des is t from contradictions . Mos tof us are afraid of mortification of the body, and
would contriveall means to avoid s uch a thing, but we care not about the s oul's
mortification. And indeed with regard to the s oul, if a man be in s ucha s tate as
not to apprehend anything, or unders tand at all, we thinkthat he is in a bad
condition: but if the s ens e of s hame and modes tyare deadened, this we call even
power. D o you comprehend that you are awake? "I do not," the man replies ,"for I do
not even comprehend when in my s leep I imagine that I amawake." D oes this
appearance then not differ from the other? "Not atall," he replies . Shall I s till
argue with this man? And what fireor what iron s hall I apply to him to make him
feel that he is deadened? He does perceive, but he pretends that he does not. He's
even wors e than a dead man. He does not s ee the contradiction: he is in a bad
condition. Another does s ee it, but he is not moved, andmakes no improvement: he is
even in a wors e condition. His modes tyis extirpated, and his s ens e of s hame; and
the rational faculty has not been cut off from him, but it is brutalized. Shall I
name this s trength of mind? Certainly not, unles s we als o name it s uch incatamites ,
through which they do and s ay in public whatever comes intotheir head. CHAPTER 6
Of providence From everything which is or happens in the world, it is eas y to
prais e Providence, if a man pos s es s es thes e two qualities , the facultyof s eeing
what belongs and happens to all pers ons and things , and agrateful dis pos ition. If
he does not pos s es s thes e two qualities ,one man will not s ee the us e of things
which are and which happen;another will not be thankful for them, even if he does
know them. IfGod had made colours , but had not made the faculty of s eeing them,what
would have been their us e? None at all. On the other hand, ifHe had made the
faculty of vis ion, but had not made objects s uch as tofall under the faculty, what
in that cas e als o would have been the us eof it? None at all. Well, s uppos e that He
had made both, but had notmade light? In that cas e, als o, they would have been of
no us e. Who is it, then, who has fitted this to that and that to this ? And who is it
that has fitted the knife to the cas e and the cas e to the knife? Is it no one? And,
indeed, from the very s tructure of things which haveattained their completion, we
are accus tomed to s how that the workis certainly the act of s ome artificer, and
that it has not beencons tructed without a purpos e. D oes then each of thes e things
demons trate the workman, and do not vis ible things and the facultyof s eeing and
light demons trate Him? And the exis tence of male andfemale, and the des ire of each
for conjunction, and the power of us ingthe parts which are cons tructed, do not even
thes e declare theworkman? If they do not, let us cons ider the cons titution of our
unders tanding according to which, when we meet with s ens ibleobjects , we s imply
receive impres s ions from them, but we als o s elects omething from them, and s ubtract
s omething, and add, and compoundby means of them thes e things or thos e, and, in
fact, pas s from s ometo other things which, in a manner, res emble them: is not even
this s ufficient to move s ome men, and to induce them not to forget theworkman? If
not s o, let them explain to us what it is that makes each s everal thing, or how it
is pos s ible that things s o wonderful andlike the contrivances of art s hould exis t
by chance and from their ownproper motion? What, then, are thes e things done in us
only. Many, indeed, in us only, of which the rational animal had peculiar need; but
you willfind many common to us with irrational animals . D o they themunders tand what
is done? By no means . For us e is one thing, andunders tanding is another: God had
need of irrational animals to makeus e of appearances , but of us to unders tand the
us e of appearances . Itis therefore enough for them to eat and to drink, and to
s leep andto copulate, and to do all the other things which they s everally do.But
for us , to whom He has given als o the faculty, thes e things arenot s ufficient; for
unles s we act in a proper and orderly manner,and conformably to the nature and
cons titution of each thing, we s hallnever attain our true end. For where the
cons titutions of livingbeings are different, there als o the acts and the ends are
different. In thos e animals , then, whos e cons titution is adaptedonly to us e, us e
alone is enough: but in an animal which has als othe power of unders tanding the us e,
unles s there be the due exercis eof the unders tanding, he will never attain his
proper end. Well thenGod cons titutes every animal, one to be eaten, another to
s erve foragriculture, another to s upply chees e, and another for s ome likeus e; for
which purpos es what need is there to unders tand appearances and to be able to
dis tinguis h them? But God has introduced man to be as pectator of God and of His
works ; and not only a s pectator of them,but an interpreter. For this reas on it is
s hameful for man to beginand to end where irrational animals do, but rather he
ought to beginwhere they begin, and to end where nature ends in us ; and natureends
in contemplation and unders tanding, in a way of lifeconformable to nature. Take
care then not to die without having beens pectators of thes e things . But you take a
journey to Olympia to s ee the work of Phidias , andall of you think it a mis fortune
to die without having s een s uchthings . But when there is no need to take a journey,
and where a manis , there he has the works (of God) before him, will you not des ire
tos ee and unders tand them? Will you not perceive either what you are, orwhat you
were born for, or what this is for which you have receivedthe faculty of s ight? But
you may s ay, "There are s ome things dis agreeable and troubles ome in life." And are
there none inOlympia? Are you not s corched? Are you not pres s ed by a crowd? Are you
not without comfortable means of bathing? Are you not wet when itrains ? Have you
not abundance of nois e, clamour, and otherdis agreeable things ? But I s uppos e that
s etting all thes e things offagains t the magnificence of the s pectacle, you bear and
endure.Well, then, and have you not received faculties by which you will beable to
bear all that happens ? Have you not received greatnes s ofs oul? Have you not
received manlines s ? Have you not receivedendurance? And why do I trouble mys elf
about anything that canhappen if I pos s es s greatnes s of s oul? What s hall dis tract
my mindor dis turb me, or appear painful? Shall I not us e the power for thepurpos es
for which I received it, and s hall I grieve and lament overwhat happens ? "Yes , but
my nos e runs ." For what purpos e then, s lave, have youhands ? Is it not that you may
wipe your nos e? "Is it, then, cons is tentwith reas on that there s hould be running of
nos es in the world?"Nay, how much better it is to wipe your nos e than to find
fault.What do you think that Hercules would have been if there had notbeen s uch a
lion, and hydra, and s tag, and boar, and certain unjus tand bes tial men, whom
Hercules us ed to drive away and clear out? Andwhat would he have been doing if
there had been nothing of the kind?Is it not plain that he would have wrapped
hims elf
up and haves lept? In the firs t place, then he would not have been a Hercules ,when
he was dreaming away all his life in s uch luxury and cas e; andeven if he had been
one what would have been the us e of him? andwhat the us e of his arms , and of the
s trength of the other parts ofhis body, and his endurance and noble s pirit, if s uch
circums tances and occas ions had not rous ed and exercis ed him? "Well, then, mus t aman
provide for hims elf s uch means of exercis e, and to introduce alion from s ome place
into his country, and a boar and a hydra?" This would be folly and madnes s : but as
they did exis t, and were found,they were us eful for s howing what Hercules was and
for exercis ing him.Come then do you als o having obs erved thes e things look to the
faculties which you have, and when you have looked at them, s ay:"Bring now, O Zeus ,
any difficulty that Thou pleas es t, for I havemeans given to me by Thee and powers
for honoring mys elf through thethings which happen." You do not s o; but you s it
s till, tremblingfor fear that s ome things will happen, and weeping, and lamenting
and groaning for what does happen: and then you blame the gods . Forwhat is the
cons equence of s uch meannes s of s pirit but impiety? Andyet God has not only given
us thes e faculties ; by which we s hall beable to bear everything that happens
without being depres s ed or brokenby it; but, like a good king and a true father, He
has given us thes e faculties free from hindrance, s ubject to no compuls ionunimpeded,
and has put them entirely in our own power, without evenhaving res erved to Hims elf
any power of hindering or impeding. You,who have received thes e powers free and as
your own, us e them not: youdo not even s ee what you have received, and from whom;
s ome of youbeing blinded to the giver, and not even acknowledging yourbenefactor,
and others , through meannes s of s pirit, betakingyours elves to fault finding and
making charges agains t God. Yet I wills how to you that you have powers and means
for greatnes s of s oul andmanlines s but what powers you have for finding fault and
makingaccus ations , do you s how me. CHAPTER 7 Of the us e of s ophis tical arguments ,
and hypothetical, and the like The handling of s ophis tical and hypothetical
arguments , and of thos ewhich derive their conclus ions from ques tioning, and in a
word thehandling of all s uch arguments , relates to the duties of life,though the
many do not know this truth. For in every matter we inquirehow the wis e and good
man s hall dis cover the proper path and theproper method of dealing with the matter.
Let, then, people either s aythat the grave man will not des cend into the contes t of
ques tion andans wer, or that, if he does des cend into the contes t, he will takeno
care about not conducting hims elf ras hly or careles s ly inques tioning and ans wering.
But if they do not allow either the oneor the other of thes e things , they mus t
admit that s ome inquiryought to be made into thos e topics on which particularly
ques tioningand ans wering are employed. For what is the end propos ed in reas oning?To
es tablis h true propos itions , to remove the fals e, to withholdas s ent from thos e
which are not plain. Is it enough then to havelearned only this ? "It is enough," a
man may reply. Is it, then,als o enough for a man, who would not make a mis take in
the us e ofcoined money, to have heard this precept, that he s hould receive the
genuine drachmae and reject the s purious ? "It is not enough." What,then, ought to
be added to this precept? What els e than the facultywhich proves and dis tinguis hes
the genuine and the s purious drachmae? Cons equently als o in reas oning what has been
s aid is notenough; but is it neces s ary that a man s hould acquire the faculty of
examining and dis tinguis hing the true and the fals e, and that which is not plain?
"It is neces s ary." Bes ides this , what is propos ed inreas oning? "That you s hould
accept what follows from that which youhave properly granted." Well, is it then
enough in this cas e als o toknow this ? It is not enough; but a man mus t learn how
one thing is acons equence of other things , and when one thing follows from one
thing, and when it follows from s everal collectively. Cons ider, thenif it be not
neces s ary that this power s hould als o be acquired byhim who purpos es to conduct
hims elf s killfully in reas oning, the powerof demons trating hims elf the s everal
things which he has propos ed, andthe power of unders tanding the demons trations of
others , includingof not being deceived by s ophis ts , as if they were demons trating.
Therefore there has aris en among us the practice and exercis e ofconclus ive
arguments and figures , and it has been s hown to beneces s ary. But in fact in s ome
cas es we have properly granted the premis s es or as s umptions , and there res ults from
them s omething; and though itis not true, yet none the les s it does res ult. What
then ought I todo? Ought I to admit the fals ehood? And how is that pos s ible? Well,
s hould I s ay that I did not properly grant that which we agreedupon? "But you are
not allowed to do even this ." Shall I then s ay thatthe cons equence does not aris e
through what has been conceded? "Butneither is it allowed." What then mus t be done
in this cas e?Cons ider if it is not this : as to have borrowed is not enough tomake a
man s till a debtor, but to this mus t be added the fact thathe continues to owe the
money and that the debt is not paid, s o itis not enough to compel you to admit the
inference that you havegranted the premis s es , but you mus t abide by what you have
granted.Indeed, if the premis s es continue to the end s uch as they were whenthey
were granted, it is abs olutely neces s ary for us to abide bywhat we have granted,
and we mus t accept their cons equences : but ifthe premis s es do not remain s uch as
they were when they weregranted, it is abs olutely neces s ary for us als o to withdraw
fromwhat we granted, and from accepting what does not follow from thewords in which
our conces s ions were made. For the inference is now notour inference, nor does it
res ult with our as s ent, s ince we havewithdrawn from the premis s es which we granted.
We ought then both toexamine s uch kind of premis s es , and s uch change and variation
of them,by which in the cours e of ques tioning or ans wering, or in making the
s yllogis tic conclus ion, or in any other s uch way, the premis s es undergo variations ,
and give occas ion to the foolis h to be confounded,if they do not s ee what
conclus ions are. For what reas on ought we toexamine? In order that we may not in
this matter be employed in animproper manner nor in a confus ed way. And the s ame
in hypothes es and hypothetical arguments ; for it is neces s ary s ometimes to demand
the granting of s ome hypothes is as akind of pas s age to the argument which follows .
Mus t we then allowevery hypothes is that is propos ed, or not allow every one? And if
not every one, which s hould we allow? And if a man has allowed anhypothes is , mus t
he in every cas e abide by allowing it? or mus t hes ometimes withdraw from it, but
admit the cons equences and not admitcontradictions ? Yes ; but s uppos e that a man
s ays , "If you admit thehypothes is of a pos s ibility, I will draw you to an
impos s ibility."With s uch a pers on s hall a man of s ens e refus e to enter into a
contes t, and avoid dis cus s ion and convers ation with him? But whatother man than the
man of s ens e can us e argumentation and is s killful in ques tioning and ans wering, and
incapable of beingcheated and deceived by fals e reas oning? And s hall he enter into
thecontes t, and yet not take care whether he s hall engage in argument notras hly and
not careles s ly? And if he does not take care, how can he bes uch a man as we
conceive him to be? But without s ome s uch exercis eand preparation, can he maintain
a continuous and cons is tent argument?Let them s how this ; and all thes e s peculations
become s uperfluous , andare abs urd and incons is tent with our notion of a good and
s erious man. Why are we s till indolent and negligent and s luggis h, and why dowe
s eek pretences for not labouring and not being watchful incultivating our reas on?
"If then I s hall make a mis take in thes ematters may I not have killed my father?"
Slave, where was there afather in this matter that you could kill him? What, then,
have youdone? The only fault that was pos s ible here is the fault which youhave
committed. This is the very remark which I made to Rufus whenhe blamed me for not
having dis covered the one thing omitted in acertain s yllogis m: "I s uppos e," I s aid,
"that I have burnt theCapitol." "Slave," he replied, "was the thing omitted here
theCapitol?" Or are thes e the only crimes , to burn the Capitol and tokill your
father? But for a man to us e the appearances res ented to himras hly and foolis hly
and careles s ly, not to unders tand argument, nordemons tration, nor s ophis m, nor, in
a word, to s ee in ques tioningand ans wering what is cons is tent with that which we
have granted or is not cons is tent; is there no error in this ? CHAPTER 8 That the
faculties are not s afe to the unins tructed In as many ways as we can change things
which are equivalent toone another, in jus t s o many ways we can change the forms of
arguments and enthymemes in argumentation. This is an ins tance: "If you haveborrowed
and not repaid, you owe me the money: you have not borrowedand you have not repaid;
then you do not owe me the money." To do this s killfully is s uitable to no man more
than to the philos opher; forif the enthymeme is all imperfect s yllogis m. it is
plain that he whohas been exercis ed in the perfect s yllogis m mus t be equally expert
in the imperfect als o. "Why then do we not exercis e ours elves and one another in
this manner?" Becaus e, I reply, at pres ent, though we are not exercis edin thes e
things and not dis tracted from the s tudy of morality, by meat leas t, s till we make
no progres s in virtue. What then mus t weexpect
if we s hould add this occupation? and particularly as this would not only be an
occupation which would withdraw us from moreneces s ary things , but would als o be a
caus e of s elf conceit andarrogance, and no s mall caus e. For great is the power of
arguing andthe faculty of pers uas ion, and particularly if it s hould be much
exercis ed, and als o receive additional ornament from language: ands o univers ally,
every faculty acquired by the unins tructed and weakbrings with it the danger of
thes e pers ons being elated and inflatedby it. For by what means could one pers uade
a young man who excels in thes e matters that he ought not to become an appendage to
them, butto make them an appendage to hims elf? D oes he not trample on alls uch
reas ons , and s trut before us elated and inflated, not enduringthat any man s hould
reprove him and remind him of what he has neglected and to what he has turned as ide?
"What, then, was not Plato a philos opher?" I reply, "And was notHippocrates a
phys ician? but you s ee how Hippocrates s peaks ." D oes Hippocrates , then, s peak thus
in res pect of being a phys ician? Whydo you mingle things which have been
accidentally united in the s amemen? And if Plato was hands ome and s trong, ought I
als o to s et to workand endeavor to become hands ome or s trong, as if this was
neces s aryfor philos ophy, becaus e a certain philos opher was at the s ame timehands ome
and a philos opher? Will you not choos e to s ee and todis tinguis h in res pect to what
men become philos ophers , and whatthings belong to belong to them in other res pects ?
And if I were aphilos opher, ought you als o to be made lame? What then? D o I take
awaythes e faculties which you pos s es s ? By no means ; for neither do Itake away the
faculty of s eeing. But if you as k me what is the good ofman, I cannot mention to
you anything els e than that it is a certaindis pos ition of the will with res pect to
appearances . CHAPTER 9 How from the fact that we are akin to God a man may
proceed to thecons equences If the things are true which are s aid by the
philos ophers aboutthe kins hip between God and man, what els e remains for men to do
then what Socrates did? Never in reply to the ques tion, to whatcountry you belong,
s ay that you are an Athenian or a Corinthian,but that you are a citizen of the
world. For why do you s ay that youare an Athenian, and why do you not s ay that you
belong to the s mallnook only into which your poor body was cas t at birth? Is it not
plainthat you call yours elf an Athenian or Corinthian from the placewhich has a
greater authority and compris es not only that s mall nookits elf and all your family,
but even the whole country from whichthe s tock of your progenitors is derived down
to you? He then whohas obs erved with intelligence the adminis tration of the world,
andhas learned that the greates t and s upreme and the mos t comprehens ivecommunity is
that which is compos ed of men and God, and that fromGod have des cended the s eeds
not only to my father and grandfather,but to all beings which are generated on the
earth and are produced,and particularly to rational beings - for thes e only are by
theirnature formed to have communion with God, being by means of reas onconjoined
with Him- why s hould not s uch a man call hims elf a citizenof the world, why not a
s on of God, and why s hould he be afraid ofanything which happens among men? Is
kins hip with Caes ar or with anyother of the powerful in Rome s ufficient to enable
us to live ins afety, and above contempt and without any fear at all? and to haveGod
for your maker and father and guardian, s hall not this releas eus from s orrows and
fears ? But a man may s ay, "Whence s hall I get bread to eat when I havenothing?"
And how do s laves , and runaways , on what do they rely when theyleave their mas ters ?
D o they rely on their lands or s laves , or theirves s els of s ilver? They rely on
nothing but thems elves , and fooddoes not fail them. And s hall it be neces s ary for
one among us whois a philos opher to travel into foreign parts , and trus t to and
relyon others , and not to take care of hims elf, and s hall he be inferiorto
irrational animals and more cowardly, each of which, beings elf-s ufficient, neither
fails to get its proper food, nor to find as uitable way of living, and one
conformable to nature? I indeed think that the old man ought to be s itting here,
not tocontrive how you may have no mean thoughts nor mean and ignoble talkabout
yours elves , but to take care that there be not among us anyyoung men of s uch a mind
that, when they have recognized their kins hipto God, and that we are fettered by
thes e bonds , the body, I mean, andits pos s es s ions , and whatever els e on account of
them is neces s aryto us for the economy and commerce of life, they s hould intend to
throw off thes e things as if they were burdens painful andintolerable, and to
depart to their kins men. But this is the labourthat your teacher and ins tructor
ought to be employed upon, if hereally were what he s hould be. You s hould come to
him and s ay,"Epictetus , we can no longer endure being bound to this poor body, and
feeding it and giving it drink, and res t, and cleaning it, and for thes ake of the
body complying with the wis hes of thes e and of thos e.Are not thes e things
indifferent and nothing to us , and is not deathno evil? And are we not in a manner
kins men of God, and did we notcome from Him? Allow us to depart to the place from
which we came;allow us to be releas ed at las t from thes e bonds by which we are
boundand weighed down. Here there are robbers and thieves and courts ofjus tice, and
thos e who are named tyrants , and think that they haves ome power over us by means of
the body and its pos s es s ions . Permit us to s how them that they have no power over
any man." And I on my partwould s ay, "Friends , wait for God; when He s hall give the
s ignal andreleas e you from this s ervice, then go to Him; but for the pres entendure
to dwell in this place where He has put you: s hort indeed is this time of your
dwelling here, and eas y to bear for thos e who are s odis pos ed: for what tyrant or
what thief, or what courts of jus tice,are formidable to thos e who have thus
cons idered as things of no valuethe body and the pos s es s ions of the body? Wait
then, do not departwithout a reas on." Something like this ought to be s aid by the
teacher to ingenuous youths . But now what happens ? The teacher is a lifeles s body,
andyou are lifeles s bodies . When you have been well filled to-day, yous it down and
lament about the morrow, how you s hall get s omething toeat. Wretch, if you have it,
you will have it; if you have it not, youwill depart from life. The door is open.
Why do you grieve? where does there remain any room for tears ? and where is there
occas ion forflattery? why s hall one man envy another? why s hould a man admirethe
rich or the powerful, even if they be both very s trong and ofviolent temper? for
what will they do to us ? We s hall not care forthat which they can do; and what we
do care for, that they cannotdo. How did Socrates behave with res pect to thes e
matters ? Why, inwhat other way than a man ought to do who was convinced that he was
a kins man of the gods ? "If you s ay to me now," s aid Socrates to his judges , "'We
will acquit you on the condition that you no longerdis cours e in the way in which
you have hitherto dis cours ed, nortrouble either our young or our old men,' I s hall
ans wer, 'you makeyours elves ridiculous by thinking that, if one of our commanders
has appointed me to a certain pos t, it is my duty to keep and maintain it,and to
res olve to die a thous and times rather than des ert it; but ifGod has put us in any
place and way of life, we ought to des ertit.'" Socrates s peaks like a man who is
really a kins man of thegods . But we think about ours elves as if we were only
s tomachs , andintes tines , and s hameful parts ; we fear, we des ire; we flatter thos e
who are able to help us in thes e matters , and we fear them als o. A man as ked me to
write to Rome about him, a man who, as mos t peoplethought, had been unfortunate,
for formerly he was a man of rank andrich, but had been s tripped of all, and was
living here. I wrote onhis behalf in a s ubmis s ive manner; but when he had read the
letter, hegave it back to me and s aid, "I wis hed for your help, not your pity:no
evil has happened to me." Thus als o Mus onius Rufus , in order to try me, us ed to
s ay: "This andthis will befall you from your mas ter"; and I replied that thes ewere
things which happen in the ordinary cours e of human affairs ."Why, then," s aid he,
"s hould I as k him for anything when I can obtainit from you?" For, in fact, what a
man has from hims elf, it is s uperfluous and foolis h to receive from another? Shall
I, then, who amable to receive from mys elf greatnes s of s oul and a generous s pirit,
receive from you land and money or a magis terial office? I hope not: Iwill not be
s o ignorant about my own pos s es s ions . But when a man is cowardly and mean, what els e
mus t be done for him than to writeletters as you would about a corps e. "Pleas e to
grant us the body of acertain pers on and a s extarius of poor blood." For s uch a
pers on is ,in fact, a carcas s and a s extarius of blood, and nothing more. Butif he
were anything more, he would know that one man is notmis erable through the means of
another. CHAPTER 10 Agains t thos e who eagerly s eek preferment at Rome If we
applied ours elves as bus ily to our own work as the old menat Rome do to thos e
matters about which they are employed, perhaps we als o might accomplis h s omething. I
am acquainted with a man olderthan mys elf who is now s uperintendent of corn at
Rome, and rememberthe time when he came here on his way back from exile, and what
hes aid as he related the events of his former life, and how hedeclared that with
res pect to the future after his return he wouldlook after nothing els e than pas s ing
the res t of his life in quiet andtranquillity. "For how little of life," he s aid,
remains for me." Ireplied, "You will not do it, but as s oon as you s mell Rome, you
will forget all that you have s aid; and if admis s ion is allowed eveninto the
imperial palace, you will gladly thrus t yours elf in and thankGod." "If you find me,
Epictetus ," he ans wered, "s etting even one footwithin the palace, think what you
pleas e." Well, what then did hedo? Before he entered the city he was met by letters
from Caes ar,and as s oon as he received them he forgot all, and ever after has added
one piece of bus ines s to another. I wis h that I were now byhis s ide to remind him
of what he s aid when he was pas s ing this wayand to tell him how much better a s eer
I am than he is . Well, then, do I s ay that man is an animal made for doing
nothing?Certainly not. But why are we not active? For example, as to mys elf,as s oon
as day comes , in a few words I remind mys elf of what I mus tread over to my pupils ;
then forthwith I s ay to mys elf, "But what is it to me how a certain pers on s hall
read? the firs t thing for me is tos leep." And indeed what res emblance is there
between what otherpers ons do and what we do? If you obs erve what they do, you will
unders tand. And what els e do they do all day long than make upaccounts , inquire
among thems elves , give and take advice about s omes mall quantity of grain, a bit of
land, and s uch kind of profits ? Is it then the s ame thing to receive a petition and
to read in it: "Ientreat you to permit me to export a s mall quantity of corn"; and
one to this effect: "I entreat you to learn from Chrys ippus what is the
adminis tration of the world, and what place in it the rationalanimal holds ;
cons ider als o who you are, and what is the nature ofyour good and bad." Are thes e
things like the other, do they requireequal care, and is it equally bas e to neglect
thes e and thos e? Well,then, are we the only pers ons who are lazy and love s leep?
No; butmuch rather you young men are. For we old men, when we s ee young menamus ing
thems elves , are eager to play with them; and if I s aw youactive and zealous , much
more s hould I be eager mys elf to join youin your s erious purs uits . CHAPTER 11 Of
natural affection When he was vis ited by one of the magis trates , Epictetus
inquired ofhim about s everal particulars , and as ked if he had children and awife.
The man replied that he had; and Epictetus inquired further, howhe felt under the
circums tances . "Mis erable," the man s aid. ThenEpictetus as ked, "In what res pect,"
for men do not marry and begetchildren in order to be wretched, but rather to be
happy. "But I," theman replied, "am s o wretched about my children that lately, when
mylittle daughter was s ick and was s uppos ed to be in danger, I could notendure to
s tay with her, but I left home till a pers on s ent me news that s he had recovered."
Well then, s aid Epictetus , do you thinkthat you acted right? "I acted naturally,"
the man replied. Butconvince me of this that you acted naturally, and I will
convinceyou that everything which takes place according to nature takes place
rightly. "This is the cas e," s aid the man, "with all or at leas tmos t fathers ." I do
not deny that: but the matter about which we areinquiring is whether s uch behavior
is right; for in res pect to this matter we mus t s ay that tumours als o come for the
good of the body,becaus e they do come; and generally we mus t s ay that to do wrong
is natural, becaus e nearly all or at leas t mos t of us do wrong. D o yous how me then
how your behavior is natural. "I cannot," he s aid; "butdo you rather s how me how it
is not according to nature and is notrightly done. Well, s aid Epictetus , if we
were inquiring about white and black,what criterion s hould we employ for
dis tinguis hing between them?"The s ight," he s aid. And if about hot and cold, and
hard and s oft,what criterion? "The touch." Well then, s ince we are inquiring about
things which are according to nature, and thos e which are done rightlyor not
rightly, what kind of criterion do you think that we s houldemploy? "I do not know,"
he s aid. And yet not to know the criterion ofcolors and s mells , and als o of tas tes ,
is perhaps no great harm; butif a man do not know the criterion of good and bad,
and of things according to nature and contrary to nature, does this s eem to you a
s mall harm? "The greates t harm." Come tell me, do all things whichs eem to s ome
pers ons to be good and becoming rightly appear s uch;and at pres ent as to Jews and
Syrians and Egyptians and Romans , is it pos s ible that the opinions of all of them in
res pect to food areright? "How is it pos s ible?" he s aid. Well, I s uppos e it is
abs olutelyneces s ary that, if the opinions of the Egyptians are right, theopinions
of the res t mus t be wrong: if the opinions of the Jews areright, thos e of the res t
cannot be right. "Certainly." But where thereis ignorance, there als o there is want
of learning and training inthings which are neces s ary. He as s ented to this . You
then, s aidEpictetus , s ince you know this , for the future will employ yours elf
s erious ly about nothing els e, and will apply your mind to nothing els ethan to learn
the criterion of things which are according to nature,and by us ing it als o to
determine each s everal thing. But in thepres ent matter I have s o much as this to
aid you toward what you wis h.D oes affection to thos e of your family appear to you
to be accordingto nature and to be good? "Certainly." Well, is s uch affection
naturaland good, and is a thing cons is tent with reas on not good? "By nomeans ." Is
then that which is cons is tent with reas on incontradiction with affection? "I think
not." You are right, for ifit is otherwis e, it is neces s ary that one of the
contradictions being according to nature, the other mus t be contrary to nature. Is
itnot s o? "It is ," he s aid. Whatever, then, we s hall dis cover to be atthe s ame time
affectionate and als o cons is tent with reas on, this weconfidently declare to be
right and good. "Agreed." Well then to leaveyour s ick child and to go away is not
reas onable, and I s uppos e thatyou will not s ay that it is ; but it remains for us to
inquire if it is cons is tent with affection. "Yes , let us cons ider." D id you, then,
s ince you had an affectionate dis pos ition to your child, do right whenyou ran off
and left her; and has the mother no affection for thechild? "Certainly, s he has ."
Ought, then, the mother als o to have lefther, or ought s he not? "She ought not."
And the nurs e, does s he loveher? "She does ." Ought, then, s he als o to have left
her? "By nomeans ." And the pedagogue, does he not love her? "He does love her."
Ought, then, he als o to have des erted her? and s o s hould the childhave been left
alone and without help on account of the greataffection of you, the parents , and of
thos e about her, or s hould s hehave died in the hands of thos e who neither loved her
nor cared forher? "Certainly not." Now this is unfair and unreas onable, not toallow
thos e who have equal affection with yours elf to do what youthink to be proper for
yours elf to do becaus e you have affection. Itis abs urd. Come then, if you were
s ick, would you wis h yourrelations to be s o affectionate, and all the res t,
children andwife, as to leave you alone and des erted? "By no means ." And would you
wis h to be s o loved by your own that through their exces s ive affectionyou would
always be left alone in s icknes s ? or for this reas on wouldyou rather pray, if it
were pos s ible, to be loved by your enemies and des erted by them? But if this is s o,
it res ults that your behaviorwas not at all an affectionate act. Well then, was it
nothing which moved you and induced you todes ert your child? and how is that
pos s ible? But it might be s omethingof the kind which moved a man at Rome to wrap up
his head while ahors e was running which he favoured; and when contrary to
expectation the hors e won, he required s ponges to recover from his fainting fit.
What then is the thing which moved? The exact dis cus s ionof this does not belong to
the pres ent occas ion perhaps ; but it is enough to be convinced of this , if what the
philos ophers s ay is true, that we mus t not look for it anywhere without, but in all
cas es it is one and the s ame thing which is the caus e of our doingor not doing
s omething, of s aying or not s aying s omething, of beingelated or depres s ed, of
avoiding anything or purs uing: the verything which is now the caus e to me and to
you, to you of coming tome and s itting and hearing, and to me of s aying what I do
s ay. Andwhat is this ? Is it any other than our will to do s o? "No other."But if we
had willed otherwis e, what els e s hould we have been doingthan that which we willed
to do? This , then, was the caus e ofAchilles ' lamentation, not the death of
Patroclus ; for another mandoes not behave thus on the death of his companion; but
it was becaus ehe chos e to do s o. And to you this was the very caus e of your then
running away, that you chos e to do s o; and on the other s ide, if yous hould s tay
with her, the reas on will be the s ame. And now you aregoing to Rome becaus e you
choos e; and if you s hould change yourmind, you will not go thither. And in a word,
neither death norexile nor pain nor anything of the kind is the caus e of our doing
anything or not doing; but our own opinions and our wills . D o I convince you of
this or not? "You do convince me." Such,then, as the caus es are in each cas e, s uch
als o are the effects . When,then, we are doing anything not rightly, from this day
we s hall imputeit to nothing els e than to the will from which we have done it: and
itis that which we s hall endeavour to take away and to extirpate morethan the
tumours and abs ces s es out of the body. And in like mannerwe s hall give the s ame
account of the caus e of the things which wedo right; and we s hall no longer allege
as caus es of any evil
to us ,either s lave or neighbour, or wife or children, being pers uadedthat, if we
do not think things to he what we do think them to be,we do not the acts which
follow from s uch opinions ; and as to thinkingor not thinking, that is in our power
and not in externals . "It is s o," he s aid. From this day then we s hall inquire into
and examinenothing els e, what its quality is , or its s tate, neither land nors laves
nor hors es nor dogs , nothing els e than opinions . "I hope s o."You s ee, then, that
you mus t become a Scholas ticus , an animal whom allridicule, if you really intend to
make an examination of your ownopinions : and that this is not the work of one hour
or day, you knowyours elf. CHAPTER 12 Of contentment With res pect to gods , there
are s ome who s ay that a divine beingdoes not exis t: others s ay that it exis ts , but
is inactive andcareles s , and takes no forethought about anything; a third clas s s ay
that s uch a being exis ts and exercis es forethought, but only aboutgreat things and
heavenly things , and about nothing on the earth; afourth clas s s ay that a divine
being exercis es forethought bothabout things on the earth and heavenly things , but
in a general wayonly, and not about things s everally. There is a fifth clas s to
whomUlys s es and Socrates belong, who s ay: "I move not without thyknowledge."
Before all other things , then, it is neces s ary to inquire about eachof thes e
opinions , whether it is affirmed truly or not truly. For ifthere are no gods , how
is it our proper end to follow them? And ifthey exis t, but take no care of
anything, in this cas e als o how willit be right to follow them? But if indeed they
do exis t and look afterthings , s till if there is nothing communicated from them to
men, norin fact to mys elf, how even s o is it right? The wis e and good man,then,
after cons idering all thes e things , s ubmits his own mind tohim who adminis ters the
whole, as good citizens do to the law of thes tate. He who is receiving ins truction
ought to come to the ins tructedwith this intention: How s hall I follow the gods in
all things , hows hall I be contented with the divine adminis tration, and how can I
become free?" For he is free to whom everything happens according,to his will, and
whom no man can hinder. "What then, is freedommadnes s ?" Certainly not: for madnes s
and freedom do not cons is t."But," you s ay, "I would have everything res ult jus t as
I like, and inwhatever way I like." You are mad, you are bes ide yours elf. D o you
notknow that freedom is a noble and valuable thing? But for meincons iderately to
wis h for things to happen as I incons ideratelylike, this appears to be not only not
noble, but even mos t bas e. Forhow do we proceed in the matter of writing? D o I wis h
to write thename of D ion as I choos e? No, but I am taught to choos e to write it as
it ought to be written. And how with res pect to mus ic? In the s amemanner. And what
univers ally in every art or s cience? Jus t the s ame.If it were not s o, it would be
of no value to know anything, ifknowledge were adapted to every man's whim. Is it,
then, in this alone, in this which is the greates t and the chief thing, I mean
freedom, that I am permitted to will incons iderately? By no means ; butto be
ins tructed is this , to learn to wis h that everything mayhappen as it does . And how
do things happen? As the dis pos er has dis pos ed them? And he has appointed s ummer and
winter, and abundanceand s carcity, and virtue and vice, and all s uch oppos ites for
theharmony of the whole; and to each of us he has given a body, and parts of the
body, and pos s es s ions , and companions . Remembering, then, this dis pos ition of
things we ought to go to beins tructed, not that we may change the cons titution of
things - forwe have not the power to do it, nor is it better that we s hould havethe
power-but in order that, as the things around us are what they areand by nature
exis t, we may maintain our minds in harmony with themthings which happen. For can
we es cape from men? and how is itpos s ible? And if we as s ociate with them, can we
chance them? Who gives us the power? What then remains , or what method is dis covered
ofholding commerce with them? Is there s uch a method by which they s halldo what
s eems fit to them, and we not the les s s hall be in a moodwhich is conformable to
nature? But you are unwilling to endure andare dis contented: and if you are alone,
you call it s olitude; and ofyou are with men, you call them knaves and robbers ; and
you find faultwith your own parents and children, and brothers and neighbours . But
you ought when you are alone to call this condition by the name oftranquillity and
freedom, and to think yours elf like to the gods ;and when you are with many, you
ought not to call it crowd, nortrouble, nor uneas ines s , but fes tival and as s embly,
and s o acceptall contentedly. What, then, is the punis hment of thos e who do not
accept? It is tobe what they are. Is any pers on dis s atis fied with being alone, let
himbe alone. Is a man dis s atis fied with his parents ? let him be a bads on, and
lament. Is he dis s atis fied with his children? let him be abad father. "Cas t him
into pris on." What pris on? Where he is already, for he is there agains t his will;
and where a man is agains t his will, there he is in pris on. So Socrates was not in
pris on, for he was there willingly. "Mus t my leg then be lamed?"Wretch, do you then
on account of one poor leg find fault with theworld? Will you not willingly
s urrender it for the whole? Will you notwithdraw from it? Will you not gladly part
with it to him who gave it?And will you be vexed and dis contented with the things
es tablis hedby Zeus , which he with the Moirae who were pres ent and s pinning the
thread of your generation, defined and put in order? Know you nothow s mall a part
you are compared with the whole. I mean withres pect to the body, for as to
intelligence you are not inferior tothe gods nor les s ; for the magnitude of
intelligence is not meas uredby length nor yet by height, but by thoughts . Will you
not, then, choos e to place your good in that in which youare equal to the gods ?
"Wretch that I am to have s uch a father andmother." What, then, was it permitted to
you to come forth, and tos elect, and to s ay: "Let s uch a man at this moment unite
with s uch awoman that I may be produced?" It was not permitted, but it was a
neces s ity for your parents to exis t firs t, and then for you to bebegotten. Of what
kind of parents ? Of s uch as they were. Well then,s ince they are s uch as they are,
is there no remedy given to you?Now if you did not know for what purpos e you
pos s es s the faculty ofvis ion, you would be unfortunate and wretched if you clos ed
youreyes when colors were brought before them; but in that you pos s es s greatnes s of
s oul and nobility of s pirit for every event that mayhappen, and you know not that
you pos s es s them, are you not moreunfortunate and wretched? Things are brought
clos e to you which areproportionate to the power which you pos s es s , but you turn
away this power mos t particularly at the very time when you ought to maintain itopen
and dis cerning. D o you not rather thank the gods that they haveallowed you to be
above thes e things which they have not placed inyour power; and have made you
accountable only for thos e which arein your power? As to your parents , the gods
have left you free fromres pons ibility; and s o with res pect to your brothers , and
your body,and pos s es s ions , and death and life. For what, then, have they madeyou
res pons ible? For that which alone is in your power, the proper us eof appearances .
Why then do you draw on yours elf the things forwhich you are not res pons ible? It
is , indeed, a giving of trouble toyours elf. CHAPTER 13 How everything may he done
acceptably to the gods When s ome one as ked, how may a man eat acceptably to the
gods , heans wered: If he can eat jus tly and contentedly, and with equanimity,and
temperately and orderly, will it not be als o acceptably to thegods ? But when you
have as ked for warm water and the s lave has notheard, or if he did hear has brought
only tepid water, or he is noteven found to be in the hous e, then not to be vexed
or to burs t withpas s ion, is not this acceptable to the gods ? "How then s hall a man
endure s uch pers ons as this s lave?" Slave yours elf, will you notbear with your own
brother, who has Zeus for his progenitor, and is like a s on from the s ame s eeds and
of the s ame des cent from above? Butif you have been put in any s uch higher place,
will you immediatelymake yours elf a tyrant? Will you not remember who you are, and
whomyou rule? that they are kins men, that they are brethren by nature,that they are
the offs pring of Zeus ? "But I have purchas ed them, andthey have not purchas ed me."
D o you s ee in what direction you arelooking, that it is toward the earth, toward
the pit, that it is toward thes e wretched laws of dead men? but toward the laws of
thegods you are not looking. CHAPTER 14 That the deity overs ees all things When
a pers on as ked him how a man could be convinced that all his actions are under the
ins pection of God, he ans wered, D o you not thinkthat all things are united in one?
"I do," the pers on replied. Well,do you not think that earthly things have a
natural agreement andunion with heavenly things "I do." And how els e s o regularly
as ifby God's command, when He bids the plants to flower, do they flower?when He
bids them to s end forth s hoots , do they s hoot? when He bids them to produce fruit,
how els e do they produce fruit? when He bids the fruit to ripen, does it ripen? when
again He bids them to cas tdown the fruits , how els e do they cas t them down? and
when to s hed theleaves , do they s hed the leaves ? and when He bids them to fold
thems elves up and to remain quiet and res t, how els e do they remainquiet and res t?
And how els e at the growth and the wane of the moon,and
at the approach and reces s ion of the s un, are s o great analteration and change to
the contrary s een in earthly things ? Butare plants and our bodies s o bound up and
united with the whole, andare not our s ouls much more? and our s ouls s o bound up
and incontact with God as parts of Him and portions of Him; and does not God
perceive every motion of thes e parts as being His own motion connatewith Hims elf?
Now are you able to think of the divineadminis tration, and about all things divine,
and at the s ame time als oabout human affairs , and to be moved by ten thous and
things at thes ame time in your s ens es and in your unders tanding, and to as s ent to
s ome, and to dis s ent from others , and again as to s ome things tos us pend your
judgment; and do you retain in your s oul s o manyimpres s ions from s o many and
various things , and being moved bythem, do you fall upon notions s imilar to thos e
firs t impres s ed, anddo you retain numerous arts and the memories of ten thous and
things ;and is not God able to overs ee all things , and to be pres ent with all,and to
receive from all a certain communication? And is the s un ableto illuminate s o large
a part of the All, and to leave s o little notilluminated, that part only which is
occupied by the earth's s hadow;and He who made the s un its elf and makes it go
round, being a s mallpart of Hims elf compared with the whole, cannot He perceive all
things ? "But I cannot," the man may reply, "comprehend all thes e things atonce."
But who tells you that you have equal power with Zeus ?Nevertheles s he has placed by
every man a guardian, every man's D emon,to whom he has committed the care of the
man, a guardian who nevers leeps , is never deceived. For to what better and more
carefulguardian could He have entrus ted each of us ? When, then, you have s hutthe
doors and made darknes s within, remember never to s ay that you arealone, for you
are not; but God is within, and your D emon is within,and what need have they of
light to s ee what you are doing? To this God you ought to s wear an oath jus t as the
s oldiers do to Caes ar.But they who are hired for pay s wear to regard the s afety of
Caes arbefore all things ; and you who have received s o many and s uch greatfavours ,
will you not s wear, or when you have s worn, will you notabide by your oath? And
what s hall you s wear? Never to be dis obedient,never to make any charges , never to
find fault with anything that hehas given, and never unwillingly to do or to s uffer
anything, thatis neces s ary. Is this oath like the s oldier's oath? The s oldiers
s wearnot to prefer any man to Caes ar: in this oath men s wear to honourthems elves
before all. CHAPTER 15 What philos ophy promis es When a man was cons ulting him
how he s hould pers uade his brotherto ceas e being angry with him, Epictetus replied:
Philos ophy does not propos e to s ecure for a man any external thing. If it did
philos ophy would be allowing s omething which is not within its province. For as the
carpenter's material is wood, and that of thes tatuary is copper, s o the matter of
the art of living is each man's life. "What then is my brother's ?" That again
belongs to his ownart; but with res pect to yours , it is one of the external things ,
likea piece of land, like health, like reputation. But Philos ophy promis es none of
thes e. "In every circums tance I will maintain," s he s ays , "thegoverning part
conformable to nature." Whos e governing part? "His inwhom I am," s he s ays . "How
then s hall my brother ceas e to be angry with me?" Bring himto me and I will tell
him. But I have nothing to s ay to you abouthis anger. When the man, who was
cons ulting him, s aid, "I s eek to know this -how, even if my brother is not
reconciled to me, s hall I maintainmys elf in a s tate conformable to nature?" Nothing
great, s aidEpictetus , is produced s uddenly, s ince not even the grape or the figis .
If you s ay to me now that you want a fig, I will ans wer to youthat it requires
time: let it flower firs t, then put forth fruit,and then ripen. Is , then, the fruit
of a fig-tree not perfecteds uddenly and in one hour, and would you pos s es s the
fruit of a man's mind in s o s hort a time and s o eas ily? D o not expect it, even if I
tell you. CHAPTER 16 Of providence D o not wonder if for other animals than man
all things areprovided for the body, not only food and drink, but beds als o, and
they have no need of s hoes nor bed materials , nor clothing; but werequire all thes e
additional things . For, animals not being made forthems elves , but for s ervice, it
was not fit for them to he made s oas to need other things . For cons ider what it
would be for us totake care not only of ours elves , but als o about cattle and as s es ,
how they s hould be clothed, and how s hod, and how they s hould eatand drink. Now as
s oldiers are ready for their commander, s hod,clothed and armed: but it would be a
hard thing, for the chiliarchto go round and s hoe or clothe his thous and men; s o
als o nature has formed the animals which are made for s ervice, all ready, prepared,
and requiring no further care. So one little boy with only a s tickdrives the
cattle. But now we, ins tead of being thankful that we need not take the s amecare
of animals as of ours elves , complain of God on our own account;and yet, in the name
of Zeus and the gods , any one thing of thos ewhich exis t would be enough to make a
man perceive the providence ofGod, at leas t a man who is modes t and grateful. And
s peak not to menow of the great thins , but only of this , that milk is produced from
gras s , and chees e from milk, and wool from s kins . Who made thes ethings or devis ed
them? "No one," you s ay. Oh, amazing s hameles s nes s and s tupidity! Well, let us omit
the works of nature and contemplate her s malleracts . Is there anything les s us eful
than the hair on the chin? Whatthen, has not nature us ed this hair als o in the mos t
s uitable mannerpos s ible? Has s he not by it dis tinguis hed the male and the female?
does not the nature of every man forthwith proclaim from a dis tance,"I am a man; as
s uch approach me, as s uch s peak to me; look fornothing els e; s ee the s igns "? Again,
in the cas e of women, as s hehas mingled s omething s ofter in the voice, s o s he has
als o deprivedthem of hair (on the chin). You s ay: "Not s o; the human animal oughtto
have been left without marks of dis tinction, and each of us s hould have been obliged
to proclaim, 'I am a man.' But how is not thes ign beautiful and becoming, and
venerable? how much more beautifulthan the cock's comb, how much more becoming than
the lion's mane? Forthis reas on we ought to pres erve the s igns which God has given,
weought not to throw them away, nor to confound, as much as we can,the dis tinctions
of the s exes . Are thes e the only works of providence in us ? And what words are
s ufficient to prais e them and s et them forth according to their worth?For if we had
unders tanding, ought we to do anything els e both jointlyand s everally than to s ing
hymns and bles s the deity, and to tell ofhis benefits ? Ought we not when we are
digging and ploughing andeating to s ing this hymn to God? "Great is God, who has
given us s uch implements with which we s hall cultivate the earth: great is God who
has given us hands , the power of s wallowing, a s tomach,imperceptible growth, and
the power of breathing while we s leep." This is what we ought to s ing on every
occas ion, and to s ing the greates tand mos t divine hymn for giving us the faculty of
comprehendingthes e things and us ing a proper way. Well then, s ince mos t of you have
become blind, ought there not to be s ome man to fill this office,and on behalf of
all to s ing the hymn to God? For what els e can Ido, a lame old man, than s ing hymns
to God? If then I was anightingale, I would do the part of a nightingale: if I were
a s wan, Iwould do like a s wan. But now I am a rational creature, and I ought to
prais e God: this is my work; I do it, nor will I des ert this pos t,s o long as I am
allowed to keep it; and I exhort you to join in this s ame s ong. CHAPTER 17 That
the logical art is neces s ary Since reas on is the faculty which analys es and
perfects the res t,and it ought its elf not to be unanalys ed, by what s hould it be
analys ed? for it is plain that this s hould be done either by its elf orby another
thing. Either, then, this other thing als o is reas on, ors omething els e s uperior to
reas on; which is impos s ible. But if it is reas on, again who s hall analys e that
reas on? For if that reas on does this for its elf, our reas on als o can do it. But we
s hall requires omething els e, the thing, will go on to infinity and have no end.
Reas on therefore is analys ed by its elf. "Yes : but it is more urgent tocure (our
opinions ) and the like." Will you then hear about thos ethings ? Hear. But if you
s hould s ay, "I know not whether you arearguing truly or fals ely," and if I s hould
expres s mys elf in any wayambiguous ly, and you s hould s ay to me, " D is tinguis h," I
will bearwith you no longer, and I s hall s ay to "It is more urgent." This is the
reas on, I s uppos e, why they place the logical art firs t, as in themeas uring of corn
we place firs t the examination of the meas ure. Butif we do not determine firs t what
is a modius , and what is abalance, how s hall we be able to meas ure or weigh
anything? In this cas e, then, if we have not fully learned and accuratelyexamined
the criterion of all other things , by which the otherthings are learned, s hall we
be able to examine accurately and tolearn fully anything els e? "Yes ; but the modius
is only wood, and athing which produces no fruit." But it is a thing which can
meas urecorn. "Logic als o produces no fruit." As to this indeed we s halls ee: but
then even if a man s hould rant this , it is enough thatlogic has the power of
dis tinguis hing and examining other things , and,as we may s ay, of meas uring and
weighing them. Who s ays this ? Is itonly Chrys ippus , and Zeno, and
Cleanthes ? And does not Antis thenes s ays o? And who is it that has written that the
examination of names is the beginning of education? And does not Socrates s ay s o?
And ofwhom does Xenophon write, that he began with the examination of names ,what
each name s ignified? Is this then the great and wondrous thing tounders tand or
interpret Chrys ippus ? Who s ays this ? What then is thewondrous thing? To unders tand
the will of nature. Well then do youapprehend it yours elf by your own power? and
what more have you needof? For if it is true that all men err involuntarily, and
you havelearned the truth, of neces s ity you mus t act right. "But in truth I donot
apprehend the will of nature." Who then tells us what it is ?They s ay that it is
Chrys ippus . I proceed, and I inquire what this interpreter of nature s ays . I begin
not to unders tand what he s ays ;I s eek an interpreter of Chrys ippus . "Well, cons ider
how this is s aid,jus t as if it were s aid in the Roman tongue." What then is this
s upercilious nes s of the interpreter? There is no s upercilious nes s which can jus tly
he charged even to Chrys ippus , if he onlyinterprets the will of nature, but does
not follow it hims elf; andmuch more is this s o with his interpreter. For we have no
need ofChrys ippus for his own s ake, but in order that we may unders tandnature. Nor
do we need a diviner on his own account, but becaus e wethink that through him we
s hall know the future and unders tand thes igns given by the gods ; nor do we need the
vis cera of animals fortheir own s ake, but becaus e through them s igns are given; nor
do welook with wonder on the crow or raven, but on God, who through themgives
s igns ? I go then to the interpreter of thes e things and the s acrificer, andI s ay,
"Ins pect the vis cera for me, and tell me what s igns they give."The man takes the
vis cera, opens them, and interprets them: "Man,"he s ays , "you have a will free by
nature from hindrance andcompuls ion; this is written here in the vis cera. I will
s how youthis firs t in the matter of as s ent. Can any man hinder you fromas s enting to
the truth? No man can. Can any man compel you toreceive what is fals e? No man can.
You s ee that in this matter youhave the faculty of the will free from hindrance,
free fromcompuls ion, unimpeded." Well, then, in the matter of des ire andpurs uit of
an object, is it otherwis e? And what can overcome purs uitexcept another purs uit?
And what can overcome des ire and avers ionexcept another des ire and avers ion? But,
you object: "If you placebefore me the fear of death, you do compel me." No, it is
not whatis placed before you that compels , but your opinion that it is better to do
s o-and-s o than to die. In this matter, then, it is youropinion that compelled you:
that is , will compelled will. For if Godhad made that part of Hims elf, which He
took from Hims elf and gaveto us , of s uch a nature as to be hindered or compelled
either byHims elf or by another, He would not then be God nor would He be takingcare
of us as He ought. "This ," s ays the diviner, "I find in thevictims : thes e are the
things which are s ignified to you. If youchoos e, you are free; if you choos e, you
will blame no one: you willcharge no one. All will be at the s ame time according to
your mind andthe mind of God." For the s ake of this divination I go to this diviner
and to the philos opher, not admiring him for this interpretation,but admiring the
things which he interprets . CHAPTER 18 That we ought not to he angry with the
errors of others If what philos ophers s ay is true, that all men have one
principle,as in the cas e of as s ent the pers uas ion that a thing is s o, and in the
cas e of dis s ent the pers uas ion that a thing is not s o, and in the cas eof a s us pens e
of judgment the pers uas ion that a thing is uncertain, s oals o in the cas e of a
movement toward anything the pers uas ion that athing is for a man's advantage, and
it is impos s ible to think that onething is advantageous and to des ire another, and
to judge one thing tobe proper and to move toward another, why then are we angry
with themany? "They are thieves and robbers ," you may s ay. What do you mean by
thieves and robbers ? "They are mis taken about good and evil." Ought wethen to be
angry with them, or to pity them? But s how them theirerror, and you will s ee how
they des is t from their errors . If theydo not s ee their errors , they have nothing
s uperior to their pres entopinion. "Ought not then this robber and this adulterer
to be des troyed?"By no means s ay s o, but s peak rather in this way: "This man who
has been mis taken and deceived about the mos t important things , andblinded, not in
the faculty of vis ion which dis tinguis hes white andblack, but in the faculty which
dis tinguis hes good and bad, s houldwe not des troy him?" If you s peak thus , you will
s ee how inhumanthis is which you s ay, and that it is jus t as if you would s ay,
"Oughtwe not to des troy this blind and deaf man?" But if the greates t harmis the
privation of the greates t things , and the greates t thing inevery man is the will or
choice s uch as it ought to be, and a man is deprived of this will, why are you als o
angry with him? Man, you oughtnot to be affected contrary to nature by the bad
things of another.Pity him rather: drop this readines s to be offended and to hate,
andthes e words which the many utter: "Thes e accurs ed and odious fellows ."How have
you been made s o wis e at once? and how are you s o peevis h?Why then are we angry? Is
it becaus e we value s o much the things ofwhich thes e men rob us ? D o not admire your
clothes , and then youwill not be angry with the thief. D o not admire the beauty of
yourwife, and you will not be angry with the adulterer. Learn that a thiefand an
adulterer have no place in the things which are yours , but inthos e which belong to
others and which are not in your power. If youdis mis s thes e things and cons ider
them as nothing, with whom are yous till angry? But s o long as you value thes e
things , be angry withyours elf rather than with the thief and the adulterer.
Cons ider thematter thus : you have fine clothes ; your neighbor has not: you havea
window; you wis h to air the clothes . The thief does not know whereinman's good
cons is ts , but he thinks that it cons is ts in having fineclothes , the very thing
which you als o think. Mus t he not then comeand take them away? When you s how a cake
to greedy pers ons , ands wallow it all yours elf, do you expect them not to s natch it
from you?D o not provoke them: do not have a window: do not air your clothes .I als o
lately had an iron lamp placed by the s ide of my hous eholdgods : hearing a nois e at
the door, I ran down, and found that the lamphad been carried off. I reflected that
he who had taken the lamphad done nothing s trange. What then? To-morrow, I s aid,
you willfind an earthen lamp: for a man only los es that which he has . "Ihave los t
my garment." The reas on is that you had a garment. "I havepain in my head." Have
you any pain in your horns ? Why then are youtroubled? for we only los e thos e
things , we have only pains aboutthos e things which we pos s es s . "But the tyrant
will chain." What? the leg. "He will take away."What? the neck. What then will he
not chain and not take away? thewill. This is why the ancients taught the maxim,
"Know thys elf."Therefore we ought to exercis e ours elves in s mall things and,
beginning with them, to proceed to the greater. "I have pain in thehead." D o not
s ay, "Alas ! " "I have pain in the ear." D o not s ay,"Alas ! " And I do not s ay that you
are not allowed to groan, but do notgroan inwardly; and if your s lave is s low in
bringing a bandage, donot cry out and torment yours elf, and s ay, "Everybody hates
me": forwho would not hate s uch a man? For the future, relying on thes eopinions ,
walk about upright, free; not trus ting to the s ize of yourbody, as an athlete, for
a man ought not to be invincible in the waythat an as s is . Who then is the
invincible? It is he whom none of the things dis turbwhich are independent of the
will. Then examining one circums tanceafter another I obs erve, as in the cas e of an
athlete; he has come offvictorious in the firs t contes t: well then, as to the
s econd? and whatif there s hould be great heat? and what, if it s hould be at
Olympia?And the s ame I s ay in this cas e: if you s hould throw money in his way,he
will des pis e it. Well, s uppos e you put a young girl in his way,what then? and what,
if it is in the dark? what if it s hould be alittle reputation, or abus e; and what,
if it s hould be prais e; andwhat if it s hould be death? He is able to overcome all.
What then ifit be in heat, and what if it is in the rain, and what if he be in a
melancholy mood, and what if he be as leep? He will s till conquer. This is my
invincible athlete. CHAPTER 19 How we s hould behave to tyrants If a man
pos s es s es any s uperiority, or thinks that he does , whenhe does not, s uch a man, if
he is unins tructed, will of neces s ity bepuffed up through it. For ins tance, the
tyrant s ays , "I am mas ter ofall." And what can you do for me? Can you give me
des ire which s hallhave no hindrance? How can you? Have you the infallible power of
avoiding what you would avoid? Have you the power of moving towardan object without
error? And how do you pos s es s this power? Come, whenyou are in a s hip, do you trus t
to yours elf or to the helms man? Andwhen you are in a chariot, to whom do you trus t
but to the driver? Andhow is it in all other arts ? Jus t the s ame. In what then lies
yourpower? "All men pay res pect to me." Well, I als o pay res pect to myplatter, and
I was h it and wipe it; and for the s ake of my oilflas k, I drive a peg into the
wall. Well then, are thes e things s uperior to me? No, but they s upply s ome of my
wants , and for this reas on I take care of them. Well, do I not attend to my as s ? D o
Inot was h his feet? D o I not clean him? D o you not know that everyman
has regard to hims elf, and to you jus t the s ame as he has regardto his as s ? For
who has regard to you as a man? Show me. Who wis hes tobecome like you? Who imitates
you, as he imitates Socrates ? "But I cancut off your head." You s ay right. I had
forgotten that I mus t haveregard to you, as I would to a fever and the bile, and
rais e analtar to you, as there is at Rome an altar to fever. What is it then that
dis turbs and terrifies the multitude? is it thetyrant and his guards ? I hope that
it is not s o. It is not pos s iblethat what is by nature free can be dis turbed by
anything els e, orhindered by any other thing than by its elf. But it is a man's own
opinions which dis turb him: for when the tyrant s ays to a man, "I willchain your
leg," he who values his leg s ays , "D o not; have pity":but he who values his own
will s ays , "If it appears moreadvantageous to you, chain it." "D o you not care?" I
do not care. "Iwill s how you that I am mas ter." You cannot do that. Zeus has s et me
free: do you think that he intended to allow his own s on to beens laved? But you are
mas ter of my carcas s : take it. "So when youapproach me, you have no regard to me?"
No, but I have regard tomys elf; and if you wis h me to s ay that I have regard to you
als o, Itell you that I have the s ame regard to you that I have to my pipkin. This
is not a pervers e s elf-regard, for the animal is cons tituted s oas to do all things
for its elf. For even the s un does all things forits elf; nay, even Zeus hims elf. But
when he choos es to be the Giver ofrain and the Giver of fruits , and the Father of
gods and men, yous ee that he cannot obtain thes e functions and thes e names , if he
is not us eful to man; and, univers ally, he has made the nature of therational animal
s uch that it cannot obtain any one of its own properinteres ts , if it does not
contribute s omething to the common interes t.In this manner and s ens e it is not
uns ociable for a man to doeverything, for the s ake of hims elf. For what do you
expect? that aman s hould neglect hims elf and his own interes t? And how in thatcas e
can there be one and the s ame principle in all animals , theprinciple of attachment
to thems elves ? What then? when abs urd notions about things independent of our
will,as if they were good and bad, lie at the bottom of our opinions , wemus t of
neces s ity pay regard to tyrants ; for I wis h that men would payregard to tyrants
only, and not als o to the bedchamber men. How is it that the man becomes all at once
wis e, when Caes ar has made hims uperintendent of the clos e s tool? How is it that we
s ayimmediately, "Felicion s poke s ens ibly to me." I wis h he were ejectedfrom the
bedchamber, that he might again appear to you to be a fool. Epaphroditus had a
s hoemaker whom he s old becaus e he was good fornothing. This fellow by s ome good
luck was bought by one of Caes ar's men, and became Caes ar's s hoemaker. You s hould
have s een whatres pect Epaphroditus paid to him: "How does the good Felicion do, I
pray?" Then if any of us as ked, "What is mas ter doing?" the ans wer "Heis cons ulting
about s omething with Felicion." Had he not s old theman as good for nothing? Who
then made him wis e all at once? This is an ins tance of valuing s omething els e than
the things which dependon the will. Has a man been exalted to the tribunes hip? All
who meet him offertheir congratulations ; one kis s es his eyes , another the neck, and
the s laves kis s his hands . He goes to his hous e, he finds torches lighted. He
as cends the Capitol: he offers a s acrifice of theoccas ion. Now who ever s acrificed
for having had good des ires ? forhaving acted conformably to nature? For in fact we
thank the gods for thos e things in which we place our good. A pers on was talking to
me to-day about the pries thood ofAugus tus . I s ay to him: "Man, let the thing alone:
you will s pend muchfor no purpos e." But he replies , "Thos e who draw up agreements
willwrite any name." D o you then s tand by thos e who read them, and s ayto s uch
pers ons , "It is I whos e name is written there;" And if you cannow be pres ent on all
s uch occas ions , what will you do when you aredead? "My name will remain." Write it
on a s tone, and it willremain. But come, what remembrance of you will there be
beyondNicopolis ? "But I s hall wear a crown of gold." If you des ire a crownat all,
take a crown of ros es and put it on, for it will be moreelegant in appearance.
CHAPTER 2 0 About reas on, how it contemplates its elf Every art and faculty
contemplates certain things es pecially. Whenthen it is its elf of the s ame kind with
the objects which itcontemplates , it mus t of neces s ity contemplate its elf als o: but
whenit is of an unlike kind, it cannot contemplate its elf. For ins tance,the
s hoemaker's art is employed on s kins , but its elf is entirelydis tinct from the
material of s kins : for this reas on it does notcontemplate its elf. Again, the
grammarian's art is employed aboutarticulate s peech; is then the art als o
articulate s peech? By nomeans . For this reas on it is not able to contemplate
its elf. Nowreas on, for what purpos e has it been given by nature? For the rightus e
of appearances . What is it then its elf? A s ys tem of certainappearances . So by its
nature it has the faculty of contemplatingits elf s o. Again, s ound s ens e, for the
contemplation of what things does it belong to us ? Good and evil, and things which
are neither.What is it then its elf? Good. And want of s ens e, what is it? Evil.D o
you s ee then that good s ens e neces s arily contemplates both its elfand the oppos ite?
For this reas on it is the chief and the firs t workof a philos opher to examine
appearances , and to dis tinguis h them,and to admit none without examination. You s ee
even in the matter ofcoin, in which our interes t appears to be s omewhat concerned,
how wehave invented an art, and how many means the as s ayer us es to try thevalue of
coin, the s ight, the touch, the s mell, and las tly thehearing. He throws the coin
down, and obs erves the s ound, and he is not content with its s ounding once, but
through his great attention hebecomes a mus ician. In like manner, where we think
that to be mis takenand not to be mis taken make a great difference, there we apply
greatattention to dis covering the things which can deceive. But in thematter of our
mis erable ruling faculty, yawning and s leeping, wecareles s ly admit every
appearance, for the harm is not noticed. When then you would know how careles s you
are with res pect to goodand evil, and how active with res pect to things which are
indifferent,obs erve how you feel with res pect to being deprived of the s ight of
eyes , and how with res pect of being deceived, and you will dis coveryou are far from
feeling as you ought to in relation to good and evil."But this is a matter which
requires much preparation, and muchlabor and s tudy." Well then do you expect to
acquire the greates t ofarts with s mall labor? And yet the chief doctrine of
philos ophers is brief. If you would know, read Zeno's writings and you will s ee. For
how few words it requires to s ay man's end is to follow the god's , andthat the
nature of good is a proper us e of appearances . But if you s ay"What is 'God,' what
is 'appearance,' and what is 'particular' andwhat is 'univers al nature'? then
indeed many words are neces s ary. Ifthen Epicures s hould come and s ay that the good
mus t be in the body;in this cas e als o many words become neces s ary, and we mus t be
taughtwhat is the leading principle in us , and the fundamental and thes ubs tantial;
and as it is not probable that the good of a s nail is in the s hell, is it probable
that the good of a man is in the body?But you yours elf, Epicurus , pos s es s s omething
better than this . Whatis that in you which deliberates , what is that which examines
everything, what is that which forms a judgement about the bodyits elf, that it is
the principle part? and why do you light yourlamp and labor for us , and write s o
many books ? is it that we maynot be ignorant of the truth, who we are, and what we
are with res pectto you? Thus the dis cus s ion requires many words . CHAPTER 2 1
Agains t thos e who wis h to be admired When a man holds his proper s tation in life,
he does not gapeafter things beyond it. Man, what do you wis h to happen to you? "I
am s atis fied if I des ire and avoid conformably to nature, if Iemploy movements
toward and from an object as I am by nature formed todo, and purpos e and des ign and
as s ent." Why then do you s trut beforeus as if you had s wallowed a s pit? "My wis h
has always been that thos ewho meet me s hould admire me, and thos e who follow me
s houldexclaim, 'Oh, the great philos opher.'" Who are they by whom you wis hto be
admired? Are they not thos e of whom you are us ed to s ay thatthey are mad? Well then
do you wis h to be admired by madmen? CHAPTER 2 2 On precognitions Precognitions
are common to all men, and precognition is notcontradictory to precognition. For
who of us does not as s ume that Goodis us eful and eligible, and in all circums tances
that we ought tofollow and purs ue it? And who of us does not as s ume that jus tice is
beautiful and becoming? When, then, does the contradiction aris e? Itaris es in the
adaptation of the precognitions to the particular cas es .When one man s ays , "He has
done well: he is a brave man," andanother s ays , "Not s o; but he has acted
foolis hly"; then thedis putes aris e among men. This is the dis pute among the Jews
and theSyrians and the Egyptians and the Romans ; not whether holines s s hould be
preferred to all things and in all cas es s hould bepurs ued, but whether it is holy
to eat pig's fles h or not holy. Youwill find this dis pute als o between Agamemnon
and Achilles ; for callthem forth. What do you s ay, Agamemnon ought not that to be
done whichis proper and right? "Certainly." Well, what do you s ay, Achilles ?do you
not admit that what is good ought to be done? "I do mos tcertainly."
Adapt your precognitions then to the pres ent matter.Here the dis pute begins .
Agamemnon s ays , "I ought not to give upChrys eis to her father." Achilles s ays , "You
ought." It is certainthat one of the two makes a wrong adaptation of the
precognition ofought" or "duty." Further, Agamemnon s ays , "Then if I ought to
res toreChrys eis , it is fit that I take his prize from s ome of you."Achilles
replies , "Would you then take her whom I love?" "Yes , herwhom you love." "Mus t I
then be the only man who goes without a prize?and mus t I be the only man who has no
prize?" Thus the dis pute begins . What then is education? Education is the learning
how to adapt thenatural precognitions to the particular things conformably to
nature; and then to dis tinguis h that of things s ome are in ourpower, but others are
not; in our power are will and all acts whichdepend on the will; things not in our
power are the body, the parts ofthe body, pos s es s ions , parents , brothers , children,
country, and,generally, all with whom we live in s ociety. In what, then, s houldwe
place the good? To what kind of things s hall we adapt it? "To thethings which are
in our power?" Is not health then a good thing, ands oundnes s of limb, and life? and
are not children and parents andcountry? Who will tolerate you if you deny this ?
Let us then trans fer the notion of good to thes e things . is itpos s ible, then, when
a man s us tains damage and does not obtain goodthings , that he can be happy? "It is
not pos s ible." And can hemaintain toward s ociety a proper behavior? He cannot. For
I amnaturally formed to look after my own interes t. If it is my interes tto have an
es tate in land, it is my interes t als o to take it from myneighbor. If it is my
interes t to have a garment, it is my interes tals o to s teal it from the bath. This
is the origin of wars , civilcommotions , tyrannies , cons piracies . And how s hall I be
s till ableto maintain my duty toward Zeus ? for if I s us tain damage and amunlucky,
he takes no care of me; and what is he to me if he allows me to be in the condition
in which I am? I now begin to hate him. Why,then, do we build temples , why s et up
s tatues to Zeus , as well as toevil demons , s uch as to Fever; and how is Zeus the
Saviour, and howthe Giver of rain, and the Giver of fruits ? And in truth if we
placethe nature of Good in any s uch things , all this follows . What s hould we do
then? This is the inquiry of the truephilos opher who is in labour. "Now I do not
s ee what the Good is northe Bad. Am I not mad? Yes ." But s uppos e that I place the
goods omewhere among the things which depend on the will: all will laugh atme. There
will come s ome grey-head wearing many gold rings on his fingers and he will s hake
his head and s ay, "Hear, my child. It is right that you s hould philos ophize; but you
ought to have s omebrains als o: all this that you are doing is s illy. You learn the
s yllogis m from philos ophers ; but you know how to act better thanphilos ophers do."
Man, why then do you blame me, if I know? What s hallI s ay to this s lave? If I am
s ilent, he will burs t. I mus t s peak inthis way: "Excus e me, as you would excus e
lovers : I am not my ownmas ter: I am mad." CHAPTER 2 3 Agains t Epicurus Even
Epicurus perceives that we are by nature s ocial, but havingonce placed our good in
the hus k he is no longer able to s ayanything els e. For on the other hand he
s trongly maintains this ,that we ought not to admire nor to accept anything which is
detachedfrom the nature of good; and he is right in maintaining this . How thenare
we [s us picious ], if we have no natural affection to ourchildren? Why do you advis e
the wis e man not to bring up children? Whyare you afraid that he may thus fall into
trouble? For does he fallinto trouble on account of the mous e which is nurtured in
the hous e?What does he care if a little mous e in the hous e makes lamentationto him?
But Epicurus knows that if once a child is born, it is nolonger in our power not to
love it nor care about it. For this reas on,Epicurus s ays that a man who has any
s ens e als o does not engage inpolitical matters ; for he knows what a man mus t do who
is engaged ins uch things ; for, indeed, if you intend to behave among men as youdo
among a s warm of flies , what hinders you? But Epicurus , who knows this , ventures to
s ay that we s hould not bring up children. But as heep does not des ert its own
offs pring, nor yet a wolf; and s hall aman des ert his child? What do you mean? that
we s hould be as s illyas s heep? but not even do they des ert their offs pring: or as
s avage as wolves , but not even do wolves des ert their young. Well, who wouldfollow
your advice, if he s aw his child weeping after falling on theground? For my part I
think that, even if your mother and yourfather had been told by an oracle that you
would s ay what you haves aid, they would not have cas t you away. CHAPTER 2 4 How we
s hould s truggle with circums tances It is circums tances which s how what men are.
Therefore when adifficulty falls upon you, remember that God, like a trainer of
wres tlers , has matched you with a rough young man. "For what purpos e?"you may s ay,
Why, that you may become an Olympic conqueror; but itis not accomplis hed without
s weat. In my opinion no man has had a moreprofitable difficulty than you have had,
if you choos e to make us eof it as an athlete would deal with a young antagonis t. We
are nows ending a s cout to Rome; but no man s ends a cowardly s cout, who, if heonly
hears a nois e and s ees a s hadow anywhere, comes running back interror and reports
that the enemy is clos e at hand. So now if yous hould come and tell us , "Fearful is
the s tate of affairs at Rome,terrible is death, terrible is exile; terrible is
calumny; terrible is poverty; fly, my friends ; the enemy is near"; we s hall ans wer,
"Begone, prophes y for yours elf; we have committed only one fault, thatwe s ent s uch
a s cout." D iogenes , who was s ent as a s cout before you, made a differentreport to
us . He s ays that death is no evil, for neither is it bas e:he s ays that fame is the
nois e of madmen. And what has this s py s aidabout pain, about pleas ure, and about
poverty? He s ays that to benaked is better than any purple robe, and to s leep on
the bareground is the s oftes t bed; and he gives as a proof of each thingthat he
affirms his own courage, his tranquillity his freedom, and thehealthy appearance
and compactnes s of his body. "There is no enemyhe s ays ; "all is peace." How s o,
D iogenes ? "See," he replies , "if I ams truck, if I have been wounded, if I have fled
from any man." This is what a s cout ought to be. But you come to us and tell us one
thing after another. Will you not go back, and you will s ee clearerwhen you have
laid as ide fear? What then s hall I do? What do you do when you leave a s hip? D o
youtake away the helm or the oars ? What then do you take away? You takewhat is your
own, your bottle and your wallet; and now if you think ofwhat is your own, you will
never claim what belongs to others . Theemperor s ays , "Lay as ide your laticlave."
See, I put on theangus ticlave. "Lay as ide this als o." See, I have only my toga.
"Layas ide your toga." See, I am naked. "But you s till rais e my envy." Takethen all
my poor body; when, at a man's command, I can throw away mypoor body, do I s till
fear him? "But a certain pers on will not leave to me the s ucces s ion to his es tate."
What then? had I forgotten that not one of thes e things was mine. How then do we
call them mine? jus t as we call the bed in theinn. If, then, the innkeeper at his
death leaves you the beds , allwell; but if he leaves them to another, he will have
them, and youwill s eek another bed. If then you s hall not find one, you wills leep
on the ground: only s leep with a good will and s nore, andremember that tragedies
have their place among the rich and kings and tyrants , but no poor man fills a part
in the tragedy, except as one of the chorus . Kings indeed commence with pros perity:
"ornamentthe palaces with garlands ," then about the third or fourth act theycall
out, "O Cithaeron, why dids t thou receive me?" Slave, where arethe crowns , where
the diadem? The guards help thee not at all. Whenthen you approach any of thes e
pers ons , remember this that you areapproaching a tragedian, not the actor but
OEdipus hims elf. But yous ay, "Such a man is happy; for he walks about with many,"
and I als oplace mys elf with the many and walk about with many. In s um rememberthis :
the door is open; be not more timid than little children, but as they s ay, when the
thing does not pleas e them, "I will play no loner,"s o do you, when things s eem to
you of s uch a kind, s ay I will nolonger play, and begone: but if you s tay, do not
complain. CHAPTER 2 5 On the s ame If thes e things are true, and if we are not
s illy, and are notacting hypocritically when we s ay that the good of man is in the
will,and the evil too, and that everything els e does not concern us , whyare we
s till dis turbed, why are we s till afraid? The things aboutwhich we have been bus ied
are in no man's power: and the things which are in the power of others , we care not
for. What kind oftrouble have we s till? "But give me directions ." Why s hould I
give you directions ? has not Zeus given you directions ? Has he not given to you what
is yourown free from hindrance and free from impediment, and what is not yourown
s ubject to hindrance and impediment? What directions then, whatkind of orders did
you bring when you came from him? Keep by everymeans what is your own; do not
des ire what belongs to others . Fidelityis your own, virtuous s hame is your own; who
then can take thes ethings from you? who els e than yours elf will hinder you from
us ingthem? But how do you act? when you s eek what is not your own, you los ethat
which is your own. Having s uch promptings and commands from Zeus ,what kind do you
s till as k from me?
Am I more powerful than he, am Imore worthy of confidence? But if you obs erve
thes e, do you want anyothers bes ides ? "Well, but he has not given thes e orders " you
wills ay. Produce your precognitions , produce the proofs of philos ophers ,produce
what you have often heard, and produce what you have s aidyours elf, produce what you
have read, produce what you havemeditated on (and you will then s ee that all thes e
things are fromGod). How long, then, is it fit to obs erve thes e precepts from God,
and not to break up the play? As long as the play is continued withpropriety. In
the Saturnalia a king is chos en by lot, for it has been the cus tom to play at this
game. The king commands : "D o youdrink," "D o you mix the wine," "D o you s ing," "D o
you go," "D o youcome." I obey that the game may be broken up through me. But if he
s ays , "Think that you are in evil plight": I ans wer, "I do not thinks o"; and who
compel me to think s o? Further, we agreed to playAgamemnon and Achilles . He who is
appointed to play Agamemnon s ays to me, "Go to Achilles and tear from him Bris eis ."
I go. He s ays ,"Come," and I come. For as we behave in the matter of hypothetical
arguments , s o oughtwe to do in life. "Suppos e it to be night." I s uppos e that it is
night. "Well then; is it day?" No, for I admitted the hypothes is that it was night.
"Suppos e that you think that it is night?"Suppos e that I do. "But als o think that
it is night." That is notcons is tent with the hypothes is . So in this cas e als o:
"Suppos e thatyou are unfortunate." Well, s uppos e s o. "Are you then unhappy?" Yes .
"Well, then, are you troubled with an unfavourable demon?" Yes . "Butthink als o that
you are in mis ery." This is not cons is tent with thehypothes is ; and Another forbids
me to think s o. How long then mus t we obey s uch orders ? As long as it is
profitable;and this means as long as I maintain that which is becoming and
cons is tent. Further, s ome men are s our and of bad temper, and theys ay, "I cannot
s up with this man to be obliged to hear him tellingdaily how he fought in Mys ia: 'I
told you, brother, how I as cended thehill: then I began to be bes ieged again.'" But
another s ays , "I preferto get my s upper and to hear him talk as much as he likes ."
And do youcompare thes e es timates : only do nothing in a depres s ed mood, nor as one
afflicted, nor as thinking that you are in mis ery, for no mancompels you to that.
Has it s moked in the chamber? If the s moke is moderate, I will s tay; if it is
exces s ive, I go out: for you mus talways remember this and hold it fas t, that the
door is open. Well,but you s ay to me, "D o not live in Nicopolis ." I will not live
there. "Nor in Athens ." I will not live in Athens . "Nor in Rome." Iwill not live in
Rome. "Live in Gyarus ." I will live in Gyarus , but its eems like a great s moke to
live in Gyarus ; and I depart to theplace where no man will hinder me from living,
for that dwelling-placeis open to all; and as to the las t garment, that is the poor
body,no one has any power over me beyond this . This was the reas on whyD emetrius
s aid to Nero, "You threaten me with death, but naturethreatens you." If I s et my
admiration on the poor body, I havegiven mys elf up to be a s lave: if on my little
pos s es s ions , I als omake mys elf a s lave: for I immediately make it plain with what I
maybe caught; as if the s nake draws in his head, I tell you to s trikethat part of
him which he guards ; and do you he as s ured thatwhatever part you choos e to guard,
that part your mas ter willattack. Remembering this , whom will you s till flatter or
fear? "But I s hould like to s it where the Senators s it." D o you s ee thatyou are
putting yours elf in s traits , you are s queezing yours elf."How then s hall I s ee well
in any other way in the amphitheatre?" Man,do not be a s pectator at all; and you
will not be s queezed. Why do yougive yours elf trouble? Or wait a little, and when
the s pectacle is over, s eat yours elf in the place res erved for the Senators and s un
yours elf. For remember this general truth, that it is we who s queezeours elves , who
put ours elves in s traits ; that is , our opinions s queezeus and put us in s traits .
For what is it to be reviled? Stand by as tone and revile it; and what will you
gain? If, then, a man lis tens like a s tone, what profit is there to the reviler? But
if thereviler has as a s tepping-s tone the weaknes s of him who is reviled,then he
accomplis hes s omething. "Strip him." What do you mean by"him"? Lay hold of his
garment, s trip it off. "I have ins ulted you."Much good may it do you. This was the
practice of Socrates : this was the reas on why he always had one face. But we choos e
to practice and s tudy anything rather thanthe means by which we s hall be unimpeded
and free. You s ay,"Philos ophers talk paradoxes ." But are there no paradoxes in the
otherarts ? and what is more paradoxical than to puncture a man's eye inorder that
he may s ee? If any one s aid this to a man ignorant of thes urgical art, would he not
ridicule the s peaker? Where is the wonderthen if in philos ophy als o many things
which are true appearparadoxical to the inexperienced? CHAPTER 2 6 What is the law
of life When a pers on was reading hypothetical arguments , Epictetus s aid:This als o
is an hypothetical law that we mus t accept what follows fromthe hypothes is . But
much before this law is the law of life, that wemus t act conformably to nature. For
if in every matter andcircums tance we wis h to obs erve what is natural, it is plain
that ineverything we ought to make it our aim that is cons equent s hall notes cape
us , and that we do not admit the contradictory. Firs t, then,philos ophers exercis e
us in theory, which is eas ier; and then nextthey lead us to the more difficult
things ; for in theory, there is nothing which draws us away from following what is
taught; but inthe matters of life, many are the things which dis tract us . He is
ridiculous , then, who s ays that he wis hes to begin with the matters ofreal life,
for it is not eas y to begin with the more difficult things ;and we ought to employ
this fact as an argument to thos e parents whoare vexed at their children learning
philos ophy: "Am I doing wrongthen, my father, and do I not know what is s uitable to
me andbecoming? If indeed this can neither be learned nor taught, why do youblame
me? but if it can he taught, teach me; and if you cannot,allow me to learn from
thos e who s ay that they know how to teach.For what do you think? do you s uppos e
that I voluntarily fall intoevil and mis s the good? I hope that it may not be s o.
What is then thecaus e of my doing wrong? Ignorance. D o you not choos e then that I
s hould get rid of my ignorance? Who was ever taught by anger the artof a pilot or
mus ic? D o you think then that by means of your anger Is hall learn the art of life?"
He only is allowed to s peak in this way who has s hown s uch an intention. But if a
man only intending tomake a dis play at a banquet and to s how that he is acquainted
withhypothetical arguments reads them and attends the philos ophers , whatother
object has he than that s ome man of s enatorian rank who s its by him may admire? For
there are the really great materials , and theriches here appear to be trifles
there. This is the reas on why it is difficult for a man to be mas ter of the
appearances , where thethings which dis turb the judgement are great. I know a
certainpers on who complained, as he embraced the knees of Epaphroditus ,that he had
only one hundred and fifty times ten thous and denariiremaining. What then did
Epaphroditus do? D id he laugh at him, as wes laves of Epaphroditus did? No, but he
cried out with amazement, "Poorman, how did you keep s ilence, how did you endure
it?" When Epictetus had reproved the pers on who was reading thehypothetical
arguments , and the teacher who had s ugges ted thereading was laughing at the reader,
Epictetus s aid to the teacher:"You are laughing at yours elf; you did not prepare
the young man nordid you as certain whether he was able to unders tand thes e matters ;
butperhaps you are only employing him as a reader." Well then, s aidEpictetus , if a
man has not ability enough to unders tand a complex, dowe trus t him in, giving
prais e, do we trus t him in giving blame, do weallow that he is able to form a
judgement about good or bad? and ifs uch a man blames any one, does the man care for
the blame? and ifhe prais es any one, is the man elated, when in s uch s mall matters
as an hypothetical s yllogis m he who prais es cannot s ee what is cons equenton the
hypothes is ? This then is the beginning of philos ophy, a man's perception ofthe
s tate of his ruling faculty; for when a man knows that it is weak,then he will not
employ it on things of the greates t difficulty. Butat pres ent, if men cannot
s wallow even a mors el, they buy wholevolumes and attempt to devour them; and this
is the reas on why theyvomit them up or s uffer indiges tion: and then come gripings ,
defluxes ,and fevers . Such men ought to cons ider what their ability is . Intheory it
is eas y to convince an ignorant pers on; but in the affairs of real life no one
offers hims elf to be convinced, and we hate theman who has convinced us . But
Socrates advis ed us not to live a lifewhich is not s ubjected to examination.
CHAPTER 2 7 In how many ways appearances exis t, and what aids we s houldprovide
agains t them Appearances to us in four ways : for either things appear as theyare;
or they are not, and do not even appear to be; or they are, anddo not appear to be;
or they are not, and yet appear to be. Further,in all thes e cas es to form a right
judgement is the office of aneducated man. But whatever it is that annoys us , to
that we ought toapply a remedy. If the s ophis ms of Pyrrho and of the Academics are
what annoys , we mus t apply the remedy to them. If it is the pers uas ionof
appearances , by which s ome things appear to be good, when theyare
not good, let us s eek a remedy for this . If it is habit whichannoys us , we mus t
try to s eek aid agains t habit. What aid then can wefind agains t habit, The contrary
habit. You hear the ignorant s ay:"That unfortunate pers on is dead: his father and
mother areoverpowered with s orrow; he was cut off by an untimely death and ina
foreign land." Here the contrary way of s peaking: tear yours elf fromthes e
expres s ions : oppos e to one habit the contrary habit; tos ophis try oppos e reas on, and
the exercis e and dis cipline of reas on;agains t pers uas ive appearances we ought to
have manifes tprecognitions , cleared of all impurities and ready to hand. When
death appears an evil, we ought to have this rule in readines s ,that it is fit to
avoid evil things , and that death is a neces s arything. For what s hall I do, and
where s hall I es cape it? Suppos ethat I am not Sarpedon, the s on of Zeus , nor able
to s peak in this noble way: "I will go and I am res olved either to behave bravely
mys elf or to give to another the opportunity of doing s o; if Icannot s ucceed in
doing anything mys elf, I will not grudge another thedoing of s omething noble."
Suppos e that it is above our power to actthus ; is it not in our power to reas on
thus ? Tell me where I canes cape death: dis cover for me the country, s how me the men
to whom Imus t go, whom death does not vis it. D is cover to me a charm agains tdeath.
If I have not one, what do you wis h me to do? I cannot es capefrom death. Shall I
not es cape from the fear of death, but s hall I dielamenting and trembling? For the
origin of perturbation is this , towis h for s omething, and that this s hould not
happen. Therefore if I amable to change externals according to my wis h, I change
them; but if Icannot, I am ready to tear out the eyes of him who hinders me. For
thenature of man is not to endure to be deprived of the good, and notto endure the
falling into the evil. Then, at las t, when I amneither able to change circums tances
nor to tear out the eyes of himwho hinders me, I s it down and groan, and abus e whom
I can, Zeus andthe res t of the gods . For if they do not care for me, what are they
tome? "Yes , but you will be an impious man." In what res pect then willit be wors e
for me than it is now? To s um up, remember this thatunles s piety and your interes t
be in the s ame thing, piety cannot bemaintained in any man. D o not thes e things
s eem neces s ary? Let the followers of Pyrrho and the Academics come and make their
objections . For I, as to my part, have no leis ure for thes edis putes , nor am I able
to undertake the defens e of common cons ent. IfI had a s uit even about a bit of
land, I would call in another todefend my interes ts . With what evidence then am I
s atis fied? With thatwhich belongs to the matter in hand. How indeed perception is
effected, whether through the whole body or any part, perhaps I cannotexplain: for
both opinions perplex me. But that you and I are notthe s ame, I know with perfect
certainty. "How do you know it?" WhenI intend to s wallow anything, I never carry it
to your b month, but tomy own. When I intend to take bread, I never lay hold of a
broom,but I always go to the bread as to a mark. And you yours elves who takeaway
the evidence of the s ens es , do you act otherwis e? Who amongyou, when he intended to
enter a bath, ever went into a mill? What then? Ought we not with all our power to
hold to this als o, themaintaining of general opinion, and fortifying ours elves
agains t thearguments which are directed agains t it? Who denies that we ought todo
this ? Well, he s hould do it who is able, who has leis ure for it;but as to him who
trembles and is perturbed and is inwardly brokenin heart, he mus t employ his time
better on s omething els e. CHAPTER 2 8 That we ought not to he angry with men; and
what are the s mall andthe great things among men What is the caus e of as s enting to
anything? The fact that it appears to be true. It is not pos s ible then to as s ent to
that which appears not to be true. Why? Becaus e this is the nature of the
unders tanding, to incline to the true, to be dis s atis fied with thefals e, and in
matters uncertain to withhold as s ent. What is theproof of this ? "Imagine, if you
can, that it is now night." It is not pos s ible. "Take away your pers uas ion that it
is day." It is notpos s ible. "Pers uade yours elf or take away your pers uas ion that
thes tars are even in number." It is impos s ible. When, then, any manas s ents to that
which is fals e, be as s ured that he did not intend toas s ent to it as fals e, for
every s oul is unwillingly deprived of thetruth, as Plato s ays ; but the fals ity
s eemed to him to be true.Well, in acts what have we of the like kind as we have
here truth orfals ehood? We have the fit and the not fit, the profitable and the
unprofitable, that which is s uitable to a pers on and that which is not, and whatever
is like thes e. Can, then, a man think that a thingis us eful to him and not choos e
it? He cannot. How s ays Medea? "'Tis true I know what evil I s hall do, But
pas s ion overpowers the better council.'"She thought that to indulge her pas s ion and
take vengeance on herhus band was more profitable than to s pare her children. "It
was s o;but s he was deceived." Show her plainly that s he is deceived, ands he will
not do it; but s o long as you do not s how it, what can s hefollow except that which
appears to hers elf? Nothing els e. Why,then, are you angry with the unhappy woman
that s he has beenbewildered about the mos t important things , and is become a viper
ins tead of a human creature? And why not, if it is pos s ible, ratherpity, as we pity
the blind and the lame, thos e who are blinded andmaimed in the faculties which are
s upreme? Whoever, then, clearly remembers this , that to man the meas ure ofevery
act is the appearance- whether the thing appears good or bad: ifgood, he is free
from blame; if bad, hims elf s uffers the penalty,for it is impos s ible that he who is
deceived can be one pers on, and hewho s uffers another pers on- whoever remembers
this will not be angrywith any man, will not be vexed at any man, will not revile
or blameany man, nor hate nor quarrel with any man. "So then all thes e great and
dreadful deeds have this origin, in theappearance?" Yes , this origin and no other.
The Iliad is nothingels e than appearance and the us e of appearances . It appeared to
Paris to carry off the wife of Menelaus : it appeared to Helen tofollow him. If then
it had appeared to Menelaus to feel that it was a gain to be deprived of s uch a
wife, what would have happened? Notonly a wi would the Iliad have been los t, but
the Odys s ey als o. "On s os mall a matter then did s uch great things depend?" But what
do youmean by s uch great things ? Wars and civil commotions , and thedes truction of
many men and cities . And what great matter is this ? "Is it nothing?" But what great
matter is the death of many oxen, and manys heep, and many nes ts of s wallows or
s torks being burnt ordes troyed? "Are thes e things , then, like thos e?" Very like.
Bodies of men are des troyed, and the bodies of oxen and s heep; thedwellings of men
are burnt, and the nes ts of s torks . What is therein this great or dreadful? Or s how
me what is the difference between aman's hous e and a s tork's nes t, as far as each
is a dwelling; exceptthat man builds his little hous es of beams and tiles and
bricks , andthe s tork builds them of s ticks and mud. "Are a s tork and a man, then,
like things ?" What s ay you? In body they are very much alike. "D oes a man then
differ in no res pect from a s tork?" D on't s uppos ethat I s ay s o; but there is no
difference in thes e matters . "Inwhat, then, is the difference?" Seek and you will
find that there is adifference in another matter. See whether it is not in a man
theunders tanding of what he does , s ee if it is not in s ocial community,in fidelity,
in modes ty, in s teadfas tnes s , in intelligence. Where thenis the great good and evil
in men? It is where the difference is . Ifthe difference is pres erved and remains
fenced round, and neithermodes ty is des troyed, nor fidelity, nor intelligence, then
the manals o is pres erved; but if any of thes e things is des troyed and s tormedlike a
city, then the man too peris hes ; and in this cons is t thegreat things . Paris , you
s ay, s us tained great damage, then, when theHellenes invaded and when they ravaged
Troy, and when his brothers peris hed. By no means ; for no man is damaged by an
action which is nothis own; but what happened at that time was only the des truction
ofs torks ' nes ts : now the ruin of Paris was when he los t the character ofmodes ty,
fidelity, regard to hos pitality, and to decency. When was Achilles ruined? Was it
when Patroclus died? Not s o. But it happenedwhen he began to be angry, when he wept
for a girl, when he forgotthat he was at Troy not to get mis tres s es , but to fight.
Thes ethings are the ruin of men, this is being bes ieged, this is thedes truction of
cities , when right opinions are des troyed, when theyare corrupted. "When, then,
women are carried off, when children are made captives ,and when the men are killed,
are thes e not evils ?" How is it then thatyou add to the facts thes e opinions ?
Explain this to me als o. "I s hallnot do that; but how is it that you s ay that thes e
are not evils ?" Letus come to the rules : produce the precognitions : for it is
becaus ethis is neglected that we cannot s ufficiently wonder at what men do.When we
intend to judge of weights , we do not judge by gues s : where weintend to judge of
s traight and crooked, we do not judge by gues s .In all cas es where it is our
interes t to know what is true in anymatter, never will any man among us do anything
by gues s . But inthings which depend on the firs t and on the only caus e of doing
right or wrong, of happines s or unhappines s , of being unfortunate orfortunate,
there only we are incons iderate and ras h. There
is thennothing like s cales , nothing like a rule: but s ome appearance is pres ented,
and s traightway I act according to it. Mus t I thens uppos e that I am s uperior to
Achilles or Agamemnon, s o that they byfollowing appearances do and s uffer s o many
evils : and s hall not theappearance be s ufficient for me? And what tragedy has any
otherbeginning? The Atreus of Euripides , what is it? An appearance. TheOEdipus of
Sophocles , what is it? An appearance. The Phoenix? Anappearance. The Hippolytus ? An
appearance. What kind of a man thendo you s uppos e him to be who pays no regard to
this matter? And whatis the name of thos e who follow every appearance? "They are
calledmadmen." D o we then act at all differently? CHAPTER 2 9 On cons tancy The
being of the Good is a certain Will; the being of the Bad is acertain kind of Will.
What then are externals ? Materials for the Will,about which the will being
convers ant s hall obtain its own good orevil. How s hall it obtain the good? If it
does not admire thematerials ; for the opinions about the materials , if the opinions
areright, make the will good: but pervers e and dis torted opinions makethe will bad.
God has fixed this law, and s ays , "If you would haveanything good, receive it from
yours elf." You s ay, "No, but I haveit from another." D o not s o: but receive it from
yours elf. Thereforewhen the tyrant threatens and calls me, I s ay, "Whom do you
threatenIf he s ays , "I will put you in chains ," I s ay, "You threaten myhands and my
feet." If he s ays , "I will cut off your head," I reply,"You threaten my head." If
he s ays , "I will throw you into pris on,"I s ay, "You threaten the whole of this poor
body." If he threatens me with banis hment, I s ay the s ame. "D oes he, then, not
threaten youat all?" If I feel that all thes e things do not concern me, he does not
threaten me at all; but if I fear any of them, it is I whom hethreatens . Whom then
do I fear? the mas ter of what? The mas ter ofthings which are in my own power? There
is no s uch mas ter. D o I fearthe mas ter of things which are not in my power? And
what are thes ethings to me? "D o you philos ophers then teach us to des pis e kings ?"
I hope not.Who among us teaches to claim agains t them the power over things which
they pos s es s ? Take my poor body, take my property, take my reputation,take thos e
who are about me. If I advis e any pers ons to claim thes ethings , they may truly
accus e me. "Yes , but I intend to command youropinions als o." And who has given you
this power? How can youconquer the opinion of another man? "By applying terror to
it," hereplies , "I will conquer it." D o you not know that opinion conquers its elf,
and is not conquered by another? But nothing els e canconquer Will except the Will
its elf. For this reas on, too, the lawof God is mos t powerful and mos t jus t, which
is this : "Let thes tronger always be s uperior to the weaker." "Ten are s tronger than
one." For what? For putting in chains , for killing, for draggingwhither they
choos e, for taking away what a man has . The ten thereforeconquer the one in this in
which they are s tronger. "In what thenare the ten weaker," If the one pos s es s right
opinions and theothers do not. "Well then, can the ten conquer in this matter?" How
is it pos s ible? If we were placed in the s cales , mus t not the heavierdraw down the
s cale in which it is ? "How s trange, then, that Socrates s hould have been s o
treated by theAthenians ." Slave, why do you s ay Socrates ? Speak of the thing as it
is : how s trange that the poor body of Socrates s hould have beencarried off and
dragged to pris on by s tronger men, and that any ones hould have given hemlock to the
poor body of Socrates , and that its hould breathe out the life. D o thes e things s eem
s trange. do theys eem unjus t, do you on account of thes e things blame God? Had
Socrates then no equivalent for thes e things , Where, then, for him was thenature of
good? Whom s hall we lis ten to, you or him? And what does Socrates s ay? "Anytus and
Meletus can kill me, but they cannot hurtme": and further, he s ays , "If it s o
pleas es God, s o let it be." But s how me that he who has the inferior principles
overpowers himwho is s uperior in principles . You will never s how this , nor come
nears howing it; for this is the law of nature and of God that the s uperiors hall
always overpower the inferior. In what? In that in which it is s uperior. One body is
s tronger than another: many are s tronger thanone: the thief is s tronger than he who
is not a thief. This is thereas on why I als o los t my lamp, becaus e in wakefulnes s
the thief was s uperior to me. But the man bought the lamp at this price: for alamp
he became a thief, a faithles s fellow, and like a wild beas t.This s eemed to him a
good bargain. Be it s o. But a man has s eized meby the cloak, and is drawing me to
the public place: then others bawl out, "Philos opher, what has been the us e of your
opinions ? s eeyou are dragged to pris on, you are going to be beheaded." And what
s ys tem of philos ophy could f have made s o that, if a s tronger mans hould have laid
hold of my cloak, I s hould not be dragged off; thatif ten men s hould have laid hold
of me and cas t me into pris on, Is hould not be cas t in? Have I learned nothing els e
then? I havelearned to s ee that everything which happens , if it be independentof my
will, is nothing to me. I may as k if you have not gained bythis . Why then do you
s eek advantage in anything els e than in thatin which you have learned that
advantage is ? Then s itting in pris on I s ay: "The man who cries out in this way
neither hears what words mean, nor unders tands what is s aid, nordoes he care at all
to know what philos ophers s ay or what they do. Lethim alone." But now he s ays to
the pris oner, "Come out from your pris on." If youhave no further need of me in
pris on, I come out: if you s hould haveneed of me again, I will enter the pris on.
"How long will you actthus ?" So long as reas on requires me to be with the body: but
whenreas on does not require this , take away the body, and fare you well.Only we
mus t not do it incons iderately, nor weakly, nor for any s lightreas on; for, on the
other hand, God does not wis h it to be done, andhe has need of s uch a world and
s uch inhabitants in it. But if hes ounds the s ignal for retreat, as he did to
Socrates , we mus t obey himwho gives the s ignal, as if he were a general. "Well,
then, ought we to s ay s uch things to the many?" Why s houldwe? Is it not enough for
a man to be pers uaded hims elf? Whenchildren come clapping their hands and crying
out, "To-day is the goodSaturnalia," do we s ay, "The Saturnalia are not good?" By
no means ,but we clap our hands als o. D o you als o then, when you are not able tomake
a man change his mind, be as s ured that he is a child, and clapyour hands with him,
and if you do not choos e to do this , keep s ilent. A man mus t keep this in mind;
and when he is called to any s uchdifficulty, he s hould know that the time is come
for s howing if he has been ins tructed. For he who is come into a difficulty is like
ayoung man from a s chool who has practiced the res olution ofs yllogis ms ; and if any
pers on propos es to him an eas y s yllogis m, hes ays , "Rather propos e to me a s yllogis m
which is s killfullycomplicated that I may exercis e mys elf on it." Even athletes are
dis s atis fied with s light young men, and s ay "He cannot lift me." "This is a youth of
noble dis pos ition." But when the time of trial is come, one of you mus t weep and
s ay, "I wis h that I had learnedmore." A little more of what? If you did not learn
thes e things inorder to s how them in practice, why did you learn them? I think that
there is s ome one among you who are s itting here, who is s ufferinglike a woman in
labour, and s aying, "Oh, that s uch a difficulty does not pres ent its elf to me as
that which has come to this man; oh,that I s hould be was ting my life in a corner,
when I might becrowned at Olympia. When will any one announce to me s uch acontes t?"
Such ought to be the dis pos ition of all of you. Even amongthe gladiators of Caes ar
there are s ome who complain grievous ly thatthey are not brought forward and
matched, and they offer up prayers toGod and addres s thems elves to their
s uperintendents entreating thatthey might fight. And will no one among you s how
hims elf s uch? I wouldwillingly take a voyage for this purpos e and s ee what my
athlete is doing, how he is s tudying his s ubject. "I do not choos e s uch as ubject,"
he s ays . Why, is it in your power to take what s ubject youchoos e? There has been
given to you s uch a body as you have, s uchparents , s uch brethren, s uch a country,
s uch a place in yourcountry: then you come to me and s ay, "Change my s ubject." Have
younot abilities which enable you to manage the s ubject which has beengiven to you?
"It is your bus ines s to propos e; it is mine toexercis e mys elf well." However, you
do not s ay s o, but you s ay, "D onot propos e to me s uch a tropic, but s uch: do not
urge agains t me s uchan objection, but s uch." There will be a time, perhaps , when
tragicactors will s uppos e that they are mas ks and bus kins and the longcloak. I s ay,
thes e things , man, are your material and s ubject.Utter s omething that we may know
whether you are a tragic actor or abuffoon; for both of you have all the res t in
common. If any onethen s hould take away the tragic actor's bus kins and his mas k,
andintroduce him on the s tage as a phantom, is the tragic actor los t,or does he
s till remain? If he has voice, he s till remains . An example of another kind.
"As s ume the governors hip of a province."I as s ume it, and when I have as s umed it, I
s how how an ins tructedman behaves . "Lay as ide the laticlave and, clothing yours elf
inrags , come forward in this character." What then have I not thepower of
dis playing a good voice? How, then, do you now appear? As awitnes s s ummoned by God.
"Come forward, you, and bear tes timony forme,
for you are worthy to be brought forward as a witnes s by me: is anything external
to the will good or bad? do I hurt any man? have Imade every man's interes t
dependent on any man except hims elf?" Whattes timony do you give for God? "I am in a
wretched condition,Mas ter, and I am unfortunate; no man cares for me, no man gives
meanything; all blame me, all s peak ill of me." Is this the evidencethat you are
going to give, and dis grace his s ummons , who has conferred s o much honour on you,
and thought you worthy of beingcalled to bear s uch tes timony? But s uppos e that he
who has the power has declared, "I judge youto be impious and profane." What has
happened to you? "I have beenjudged to be impious and profane?" Nothing els e?
"Nothing els e." Butif the s ame pers on had pas s ed judgment on an hypothetical
s yllogis m,and had made a declaration, "the conclus ion that, if it is day, itis
light, I declare to be fals e," what has happened to thehypothetical s yllogis m? who
is judged in this cas e? who has beencondemned? the hypothetical s yllogis m, or the
man who has beendeceived by it? D oes he, then, who has the power of making any
declaration about you know what is pious or impious ? Has he s tudiedit, and has he
learned it? Where? From whom? Then is it the factthat a mus ician pays no regard to
him who declares that the lowes tchord in the lyre is the highes t; nor yet a
geometrician, if hedeclares that the lines from the centre of a circle to the
circumference are not equal; and s hall he who is really ins tructed payany regard to
the unins tructed man when he pronounces judgment on whatis pious and what is
impious , on what is jus t and unjus t? Oh, thes ignal wrong done by the ins tructed.
D id they learn this here? Will you not leave the s mall arguments about thes e
matters toothers , to lazy fellows , that they may s it in a corner and receivetheir
s orry pay, or grumble that no one gives them anything; andwill you not come forward
and make us e of what you have learned? Forit is not thes e s mall arguments that are
wanted now: the writings ofthe Stoics are full of them. What then is the thing
which is wanted? Aman who s hall apply them, one who by his acts s hall bear
tes timonyto his words . As s ume, I, entreat you, this character, that we may nolonger
us e in the s chools the examples of the ancients but may haves ome example of our
own. To whom then does the contemplation of thes e matters belong? Tohim who has
leis ure, for man is an animal that loves contemplation.But it is s hameful to
contemplate thes e things as runaway s laves do;we s hould s it, as in a theatre, free
from dis traction, and lis ten atone time to the tragic actor, at another time to the
lute-player;and not do as s laves do. As s oon as the s lave has taken his s tation he
prais es the actor and at the s ame time looks round: then if any onecalls out his
mas ter's name, the s lave is immediately frightened anddis turbed. It is s hameful for
philos ophers thus to contemplate theworks of nature. For what is a mas ter? Man is
not the mas ter of man;but death is , and life and pleas ure and pain; for if he comes
without thes e things , bring Caes ar to me and you will s ee how firm Iam. But when he
s hall come with thes e things , thundering andlightning, and when I am afraid of
them, what do I do then except torecognize my mas ter like the runaway s lave? But s o
long as I haveany res pite from thes e terrors , as a runaway s lave s tands in the
theatre, s o do I: I bathe, I drink, I s ing; but all this I do withterror and
uneas ines s . But if I s hall releas e mys elf from mymas ters , that is from thos e things
by means of which mas ters areformidable, what further trouble have I, what mas ter
have I s till? "What then, ought we to publis h thes e things to all men?" No, but we
ought to accommodate ours elves to the ignorant and to s ay: "This manrecommends to
me that which he thinks good for hims elf: I excus e him."For Socrates als o excus ed
the gaoler, who had the charge of him inpris on and was weeping when Socrates was
going to drink the pois on,and s aid, "How generous ly he laments over us ." D oes he
then s ay to thegaoler that for this reas on we have s ent away the women? No, but he
s ays it to his friends who were able to hear it; and he treats thegaoler as a
child. CHAPTER 3 0 What we ought to have ready in difficult circums tances When
you are going into any great pers onage, remember that Anotherals o from above s ees
what is going on, and that you ought to pleas eHim rather than the other. He, then,
who s ees from above as ks you: "Inthe s chools what us ed you to s ay about exile and
bonds and death anddis grace?" I us ed to s ay that they are things indifferent. "What
then do you s ay of them now? Are they changed at all?" No. "Are youchanged then?"
No. "Tell me then what things are indifferent?" Thethings which are independent of
the will. "Tell me, als o, what follows from this ." The things which are independent
of the will are nothingto me. "Tell me als o about the Good, what was your opinion?"
A wills uch as we ought to have and als o s uch a us e of appearances . "Andthe end,
what is it?" To follow Thee. "D o you s ay this now als o?" Is ay the s ame now als o.
Then go into the great pers onage boldly and remember thes e things ;and you will s ee
what a youth is who has s tudied thes e things whenhe is among men who have not
s tudied them. I indeed imagine that youwill have s uch thoughts as thes e: "Why do we
make s o great and s o manypreparations for nothing? Is this the thing which men name
power? Is this the antechamber? this the men of the bedchamber? this the armed
guards ? Is it for this that I lis tened to s o many dis cours es ? All this is nothing:
but I have been preparing mys elf for s omething great."D ISCOURSES
BOOK TWO CHAPTER 1 That confidence is not incons is tent with caution The opinion
of the philos ophers , perhaps , s eems to s ome to be aparadox; but s till let us
examine as well as we can, if it is truethat it is pos s ible to do everything both
with caution and withconfidence. For caution s eems to be in a manner contrary to
confidence, and contraries are in no way cons is tent. That whichs eems to many to be
a paradox in the matter under cons ideration inmy opinion is of this kind: if we
as s erted that we ought to employcaution and in the s ame things , men might jus tly
accus e us of bringingtogether things which cannot be united. But now where is the
difficulty in what is s aid? for if thes e things are true, which havebeen often s aid
and often proved, that the nature of good is in theus e of appearances , and the
nature of evil likewis e, and that things independent of our will do not admit either
the nature of evil norof good, what paradox do the philos ophers as s ert if they s ay
thatwhere things are not dependent on the will, there you s hould employconfidence,
but where they are dependent on the will, there you s houldemploy caution? For if
the bad cons is ts in a bad exercis e of the will,caution ought only to be us ed where
things are dependent on thewill. But if things independent of the will and not in
our power arenothing to us , with res pect to thes e we mus t employ confidence; and
thus we s hall both be cautious and confident, and indeed confidentbecaus e of our
caution. For by employing caution toward things whichare really bad, it will res ult
that we s hall have confidence withres pect to things which are not s o. We are then
in the condition of deer; when they flee from thehunts men's feathers in fright,
whither do they turn and in what dothey s eek refuge as s afe? They turn to the nets ,
and thus theyperis h by confounding things which are objects of fear with things that
they ought not to fear. Thus we als o act: in what cas es do wefear? In things which
are independent of the will. In what cas es , onthe contrary, do we behave with
confidence, as if there were nodanger? In things dependent on the will. To be
deceived then, or toact ras hly, or s hameles s ly or with bas e des ire to s eek
s omething, does not concern us at all, if we only hit the mark in things which are
independent of our will. But where there is death, or exile or pain orinfamy, there
we attempt or examine to run away, there we are s truckwith terror. Therefore, as we
may expect it to happen with thos e whoerr in the greates t matters , we convert
natural confidence intoaudacity, des peration, ras hnes s , s hameles s nes s ; and we
convert naturalcaution and modes ty into cowardice and meannes s , which are full of
fear and confus ion. For if a man s hould trans fer caution to thos ethings in which
the will may be exercis ed and the acts of the will, hewill immediately, by willing
to be cautious , have als o the power ofavoiding what he choos es : but if he trans fer
it to the things whichare not in his power and will, and attempt to avoid the
things whichare in the power of others , he will of neces s ity fear, he will be
uns table, he will be dis turbed. For death or pain is not formidable,but the fear of
pain or death. For this reas on we commend the poet whos aid Not death is evil,
but a s hameful death.Confidence then ought to be employed agains t death, and
cautionagains t the fear of death. But now we do the contrary, and employagains t
death the attempt to es cape; and to our opinion about it weemploy careles s nes s ,
ras hnes s and indifference. Thes e things Socrates properly us ed to call "tragic
mas ks "; for as to childrenmas ks appear terrible and fearful from inexperience, we
als o areaffected in like manner by events for no other reas on than childrenare by
mas ks . For what is a child? Ignorance. What is a child? Want ofknowledge. For when
a child knows thes e things , he is in no wayinferior to us . What is death? A "tragic
mas k." Turn it and examineit. See, it does not bite. The poor body mus t be
s eparated from thes pirit either now or later, as it was s eparated from it
before. Why,then, are you troubled, if it be s eparated now? for if it is not
s eparated now, it will be s eparated afterward. Why? That the period ofthe univers e
may be completed, for it has need of the pres ent, andof the future, and of the
pas t. What is pain? A mas k. Turn it andexamine it. The poor fles h is moved roughly,
then, on the contrary,s moothly. If this does not s atis fy you, the door is open: if
itdoes , bear. For the door ought to be open for all occas ions ; and s o wehave no
trouble. What then is the fruit of thes e opinions ? It is that which oughtto he the
mos t noble and the mos t becoming to thos e who are reallyeducated, releas e from
perturbation, releas e from fear, freedom. Forin thes e matters we mus t not believe
the many, who s ay that freepers ons only ought to be educated, but we s hould rather
believe thephilos ophers , who s ay that the educated only are free. "How is this ?" In
this manner. Is freedom anything els e than the power ofliving as we choos e?
"Nothing els e." Tell me then, ye men, do you wis hto live in error? "We do not." No
one then who lives in error is free.D o you wis h to live in fear? D o you wis h to
live in s orrow? D o youwis h to live in perturbation? "By no means ." No one, then,
who is in as tate of fear or s orrow or perturbation is free; but whoever is delivered
from s orrows and fears and perturbations , he is at thes ame time als o delivered from
s ervitude. How then can we continue tobelieve you, mos t dear legis lators , when you
s ay, "We only allowfree pers ons to be educated?" For philos ophers s ay we allow none
to befree except the educated; that is , God does not allow it. "When then aman has
turned round before the praetor his own s lave, has he donenothing?" He has done
s omething. "What?" He has turned round his owns lave before the praetor. "Has he
done nothing, more?" Yes : he is als obound to pay for him the tax called the
twentieth. "Well then, is not the man who has gone through this ceremony become
free?" No morethan he is become free from perturbations . Have you who are able to
turn round others no mas ter? is not money your mas ter, or a girl ora boy, or s ome
tyrant, or s ome friend of the tyrant? why do youtremble then when you are going off
to any trial of this kind? It is for this reas on that I often s ay: Study and hold in
readines s thes eprinciples by which you may determine what thos e things are with
reference to which you ought to have confidence, and thos e things withreference to
which you ought to be cautious : courageous in thatwhich does not depend on your
will; cautious in that which does dependon it. "Well have I not read to you, and
do you not know what I was doing?"In what? "In my little dis s ertations ." Show me
how you are withres pect to des ire and avers ion; and s how if you do not fail in
gettingwhat you wis h, me and if you do not fall into the things which youwould
avoid: but as to thes e long and laboured s entences , you willtake them and blot them
out. "What then did not Socrates write?" And who wrote s o much? Buthow? As he
could not always have at hand one to argue agains t his principles or to be argued
agains t in turn, he us ed to argue withand examine hims elf, and he was always
treating at leas t s ome ones ubject in a practical way. Thes e are the things which a
philos opherwrites . But little dis s ertations and that method, which I s peak of, he
leaves to others , to the s tupid, or to thos e happy men who beingfree from
perturbations have leis ure, or to s uch as are too foolis h toreckon cons equences .
And will you now, when the opportunity invites , go and dis play thos ethings which
you pos s es s , and recite them, and make an idle s how,and s ay, "See how I make
dialogues ?" D o not s o, my man: but rathers ay: "See how I am not dis appointed of
that which I des ire. See howI do not fall into that which I would avoid. Set death
before me,and you will s ee. Set before me pain, pris on, dis grace andcondemnation."
This is the proper dis play of a young man who is comeout of the s chools . But leave
the res t to others , and let no oneever hear you s ay a word about thes e things ; and
if any man commends you for them, do not allow it; but think that you are nobody and
know nothing. Only s how that you know this , how never to bedis appointed in your
des ire and how never to fall into that whichyou would avoid. Let others labour at
forens ic caus es , problems ands yllogis ms : do you labour at thinking about death,
chains , the rack,exile; and do all this with confidence and reliance on him who has
called you to thes e s ufferings , who has judged you worthy of the placein which,
being s tationed, you will s how what things the rationalgoverning power can do when
it takes its s tand agains t the forces which are not within the power of our will.
And thus this paradox willno longer appear either impos s ible or a paradox, that a
man ought tobe at the s ame time cautious and courageous : courageous toward the
things which do not depend on the will, and cautious in things whichare within the
power of the will. CHAPTER 2 Of Tranquillity Cons ider, you who are going into
court, what you wis h to maintainand what you wis h to s ucceed in. For if you wis h to
maintain a willconformable to nature, you have every s ecurity, every facility, you
have no troubles . For if you wis h to maintain what is in your ownpower and is
naturally free, and if you are content with thes e, whatels e do you care for? For
who is the mas ter of s uch things ? Who cantake them away? If you choos e to be modes t
and faithful, who s hall notallow you to be s o? If you choos e not to be res trained
or compelled,who s hall compel you to des ire what you think that you ought not to
des ire? who s hall compel you to avoid what you do not think fit toavoid? But what
do you s ay? The judge will determine agains t yous omething that appears formidable;
but that you s hould als o s ufferin trying to avoid it, how can he do that? When then
the purs uit ofobjects and the avoiding of them are in your power, what els e do you
care for? Let this be your preface, this your narrative, this yourconfirmation,
this your victory, this your peroration, this yourapplaus e. Therefore Socrates
s aid to one who was reminding him to preparefor his trial, "D o you not think then
that I have been preparing forit all my life?" By what kind of preparation? "I have
maintainedthat which was in my own power." How then? "I have never done anything
unjus t either in my private or in my public life." But if you wis h to maintain
externals als o, your poor body, yourlittle property and your little es timation, I
advis e you to makefrom this moment all pos s ible preparation, and then cons ider both
the nature of your judge and your advers ary. If it is neces s ary toembrace his
knees , embrace his knees ; if to weep, weep; if to groan,groan. For when you have
s ubjected to externals what is your own, thenbe a s lave and do not res is t, and do
not s ometimes choos e to be as lave, and s ometimes not choos e, but with all your mind
be one orthe other, either free or a s lave, either ins tructed orunins tructed,
either a well-bred cock or a mean one, either endureto be beaten until you die or
yield at once; and let it not happento you to receive many s tripes and then to
yield. But if thes ethings are bas e, determine immediately: "Where is the nature of
eviland good? It is where truth is : where truth is and where nature is ,there is
caution: where truth is , there is courage where nature is ." For what do you think?
do you think that, if Socrates had wis hedto pres erve externals , he would have come
forward and s aid: "Anytus and Meletus can certainly kill me, but to harm me they are
notable?" Was he s o foolis h as not to s ee that this way leads not tothe
pres ervation of life and fortune, but to another end? What is the reas on then that
he takes no account of his advers aries , andeven irritates them? Jus t in the s ame
way my friend Heraclitus , whohad a little s uit in Rhodes about a bit of land, and
had proved to thejudges that his cas e was jus t, s aid, when he had come to the
peroration of his s peech, "I will neither entreat you nor do I carewhat wi judgment
you will give, and it is you rather than I who are onyour trial." And thus he ended
the bus ines s . What need was there ofthis ? Only do not entreat; but do not als o s ay,
"I. do not entreat";unles s there is a fit occas ion to irritate purpos ely the
judges , as was the cas e with Socrates . And you, if you are preparing s uch a
peroration, why do you wait, why do you obey the order to s ubmit totrial? For if
you wis h to be crucified, wait and the cros s willcome: but if you choos e to s ubmit
and to plead your caus e as well as you can, you mus t do what is cons is tent with this
object, provided youmaintain what is your own. For this reas on als o it is
ridiculous to s ay, "Sugges t s omethingto me." What s hould I s ugges t to you? "Well,
form my mind s o as toaccommodate its elf to any event." Why that is jus t the s ame as
if aman who is ignorant of letters s hould s ay, "Tell me what to write whenany name
is propos ed to me." For if I s hould tell him to write D ion,and then another s hould
come and propos e to him not the name of D ionbut that of Theon, what will be done?
what will he write? But if youbehave practiced writing, you are als o prepared to
write anything thatis required. If you are not, what. can I now s ugges t? For if
circums tances require s omething els e, what will you s ay or what willyou do?
Remember, then, this general precept and you will need nos ugges tion. But if you
gape after externals , you mus t of neces s ityramble up and down in obedience to the
will of your mas ter. And who is the mas ter? He who has the power over the things
which you s eek togain or try to avoid. CHAPTER 3 To thos e who recommend pers ons
to philos ophers D iogenes s aid well to one who as ked from him letters of
recommendation,
"That you are a man he s aid, "he will know as s oonas he s ees you; and he will know
whether you are good or bad, if he is by experience s killful to dis tinguis h the good
and the bad; but ifhe is without experience, he will never know, if I write to him
tenthous and times ." For it is jus t the s ame as if a drachma as ked to berecommended
to a pers on to be tes ted. If he is s killful in tes tings ilver, he will know what you
are, for you will recommend yours elf. Weought then in life als o to have s ome s kill
as in the cas e of s ilvercoin that a man may be able to s ay, like the judge of
s ilver, "Bringme any drachma and I will tes t it." But in the cas e of s yllogis ms I
would s ay, "Bring any man that you pleas e, and I will dis tinguis hfor you the man
who knows how to res olve s yllogis ms and the man whodoes not." Why? Becaus e I know
how to res olve s yllogis ms . I have thepower, which a man mus t have who is able to
dis cover thos e who havethe power of res olving s yllogis ms . But in life how do I act?
At onetime I call a thing good, and at another time bad. What is the reas on?The
contrary to that which is in the cas e of s yllogis ms , ignorance andinexperience.
CHAPTER 4 Agains t a pers on who had once been detected in adultery As Epictetus
was s aying that man is formed for fidelity, and that hewho s ubverts fidelity
s ubverts the peculiar characteris tic of men,there entered one of thos e who are
cons idered to be men of letters ,who had once been detected in adultery in the city.
Then Epictetus continued: But if we lay as ide this fidelity for which we are formed
and make des igns agains t our neighbor's wife, what are we are wedoing? What els e
but des troying and overthrowing? Whom? The man offidelity, the man of modes ty, the
man of s anctity. Is this all? Andare we not overthrowing neighbourhood, and
friends hip, and thecommunity; and in what place are we putting ours elves ? How s hall
Icons ider you, man? As a neighbour, as a friend? What kind of one? As acitizen?
Wherein s hall I trus t you? So if you were an utens il s oworthles s that a man could
not us e you, you would be pitched out onthe dung heaps , and no man would pick you
up. But if, being a man, youare unable to fill any place which befits a man, what
s hall we do withyou? For s uppos e that you cannot hold the place of a friend, can
youhold the place of a s lave? And who will trus t you? Are you not thencontent that
you als o s hould be pitched s omewhere on a dung heap, as aus eles s utens il, and a bit
of dung? Then will you s ay, "No man,cares for me, a man of letters "? They do not,
becaus e you are badand us eles s . It is jus t as if the was ps complained becaus e no
mancares for them, but all fly from them, and if a man can, he s trikes them and
knocks them down. You have s uch a s ting that you throw intotrouble and pain any man
that you wound with it. What would you haveus do with you? You have no place where
you can be put. "What then, are not women common by nature?" So I s ay als o; for a
little pig is common to all the invited gues ts , but when theportions have been
dis tributed, go, if you think it right, ands natch up the portion of him who
reclines next to you, or s lylys teal it, or place your hand down by it and lay hold
of it, and if youcannot tear away a bit of the meat, greas e your fingers and lick
them.A fine companion over cups , and Socratic gues t indeed! "Well, is notthe
theatre common to the citizens ?" When then they have taken theirs eats , come, if you
think proper, and eject one of them. In this waywomen als o are common by nature.
When, then, the legis lator, likethe mas ter of a feas t, has dis tributed them, will
you not als o lookfor your own portion and not filch and handle what belongs to
another."But I am a man of letters and unders tand Archedemus ." Unders tandArchedemus
then, and be an adulterer, and faithles s , and ins tead ofa man, be a wolf or an ape:
for what is the difference? CHAPTER 5 How magnanimity is cons is tent with care
Things thems elves are indifferent; but the us e of them is notindifferent. How then
s hall a man pres erve firmnes s andtranquillity, and at the s ame time be careful and
neither ras h nornegligent? If he imitates thos e who play at dice. The counters are
indifferent; the dice are indifferent. How do I know what the cas twill be? But to
us e carefully and dexterous ly the cas t of the dice,this is my bus ines s . Thus in
life als o the chief bus ines s is this :dis tinguis h and s eparate things , and s ay,
"Externals are not in mypower: will is in my power. Where s hall I s eek the good and
the bad?Within, in the things which are my own." But in what does not belongto you
call nothing either good or bad, or profit or damage oranything of the kind. "What
then? Should we us e s uch things careles s ly?" In no way: forthis on the other hand
is bad for the faculty of the will, andcons equently agains t nature; but we s hould
act carefully becaus e theus e is not indifferent and we s hould als o act with
firmnes s andfreedom from perturbations becaus e the material is indifferent. For
where the material is not indifferent, there no man can hinder menor compel me.
Where I can be hindered and compelled the obtainingof thos e things is not in my
power, nor is it good or bad; but the us eis either bad or good, and the us e is in
my power. But it is difficultto mingle and to bring together thes e two things , the
carefulnes s ofhim who is affected by the matter and the firmnes s of him who has no
regard for it; but it is not impos s ible; and if it is , happines s is impos s ible. But
we s hould act as we do in the cas e of a voyage. Whatcan I do? I can choos e the
mas ter of the s hip, the s ailors , the day,the opportunity. Then comes a s torm. What
more have I to care for? formy part is done. The bus ines s belongs to another- the
mas ter. Butthe s hip is s inking- what then have I to do? I do the only things thatI
can, not to be drowned full of fear, nor s creaming, nor blaming God,but knowing
that what has been produced mus t als o peris h: for I am notan immortal being, but a
man, a part of the whole, as an hour is apart of the day: I mus t be pres ent like
the hour, and pas t like thehour. What difference, then, does it make to me how I
pas s away,whether by being s uffocated or by a fever, for I mus t pas s throughs ome
s uch means ? This is jus t what you will s ee thos e doing who play at balls killfully.
No one cares about the ball being good or bad, but aboutthrowing and catching it.
In this therefore is the s kill, this theart, the quicknes s , the judgement, s o that
if I s pread out my lap Imay not be able to catch it, and another, if I throw, may
catch theball. But if with perturbation and fear we receive or throw theball, what
kind of play is it then, and wherein s hall a man be s teady,and how s hall a man s ee
the order in the game? But one will s ay,"Throw"; or, "D o not throw"; and another
will s ay, "You have thrownonce." This is quarreling, not play. Socrates , then,
knew how to play at ball. How?" By us ingpleas antry in the court where he was tried.
"Tell me," he s ays ,"Anytus , how do you s ay that I do not believe in God. The
D emons ,who are they, think you? Are they not s ons of Gods , or compounded ofgods and
men?" When Anytus admitted this , Socrates s aid, "Who then,think you, can believe
that there are mules , but not as s es "; andthis he s aid as if he were playing at
ball. And what was the ball inthat cas e? Life, chains , banis hment, a draught of
pois on, s eparationfrom wife and leaving children orphans . Thes e were the things
withwhich he was playing; but s till he did play and threw the balls killfully. So we
s hould do: we mus t employ all the care of theplayers , but s how the s ame
indifference about the ball. For we oughtby all means to apply our art to s ome
external material, not as valuing the material, but, whatever it may be, s howing our
art init. Thus too the weaver does not make wool, but exercis es his art upons uch as
he receives . Another gives you food and property and is ableto take them away and
your poor body als o. When then you have receivedthe material, work on it. If then
you come out without having s ufferedanything, all who meet you will congratulate
you on your es cape; buthe who knows how to look at s uch things , if he s hall s ee
that you havebehaved properly in the matter, will commend you and be pleas ed with
you; and if he s hall find that you owe your es cape to any want ofproper behavior,
he will do the contrary. For where rejoicing is reas onable, there als o is
congratulation reas onable. How then is it s aid that s ome external things are
according tonature and others contrary to nature? It is s aid as it might be s aidif
we were s eparated from union: for to the foot I s hall s ay that itis according to
nature for it to be clean; but if you take it as afoot and as a thing not detached,
it will befit it both to s tep intothe mud and tread on thorns , and s ometimes to be
cut off for thebenefit of the whole body; otherwis e it is no longer a foot. We
s houldthink in s ome way about ours elves als o. What are you? A man. If youcons ider
yours elf as detached from other men, it is according tonature to live to old age,
to be rich, to be healthy. But if youcons ider yours elf as a man and a part of a
certain whole, it is forthe s ake of that whole that at one time you s hould be s ick,
at anothertime take a voyage and run into danger, and at another time be inwant,
and, in s ome cas es , die prematurely. Why then are youtroubled? D o you not know,
that as a foot is no longer a foot if it is detached from the body, s o you are no
longer a man if you ares eparated from other men. For what is a man? A part of a
s tate, ofthat firs t which cons is ts of Gods and of men; then of that which is called
next to it, which is a s mall image of the univers al s tate."What then mus t I be
brought to trial; mus t another have a fever,another s ail on the s ea,
another die, and another be condemned?"Yes , for it is impos s ible in s uch a body,
in s uch a univers e ofthings , among s o many living together, that s uch things s hould
nothappen, s ome to one and others to others . It is your duty then,s ince you are
come here, to s ay what you ought, to arrange thes ethings as it is fit. Then s ome
one s ays , "I s hall charge you withdoing me wrong." Much good may it do you: I have
done my part; butwhether you als o have done yours , you mus t look to that; for there
is s ome danger of this too, that it may es cape your notice. CHAPTER 6 Of
indifference The hypothetical propos ition is indifferent: the judgment about itis
not indifferent, but it is either knowledge or opinion or error.Thus life is
indifferent: the us e is not indifferent. When any manthen tells you that thes e
things als o are indifferent, do not becomenegligent; and when a man invites you to
be careful, do not becomeabject and s truck with admiration of material things . And
it is goodfor you to know your own preparation and power, that in thos ematters
where you have not been prepared, you may keep quiet, andnot be vexed, if others
have the advantage over you. For you, too,in s yllogis ms will claim to have the
advantage over them; and ifothers s hould be vexed at this , you will cons ole them by
s aying, "Ihave learned them, and you have not." Thus als o where there is need ofany
practice, s eek not that which is required from the need, but yieldin that matter to
thos e who have had practice, and be yours elf contentwith firmnes s of mind. Go and
s alute a certain pers on. "How?" Not meanly. "But I havebeen s hut out, for I have
not learned to make my way through thewindow; and when I have found the door s hut,
I mus t either come backor enter through the window." But s till s peak to him. "In
what way?"Not meanly. But s uppos e that you have not got what you wanted. Was this
your bus ines s , and not his ? Why then do you claim that whichbelongs to another?
Always remember what is your own, and what belongs to another; and you will not be
dis turbed. Chrys ippus therefore s aidwell, "So long as future things are uncertain,
I always cling to thos ewhich are more adapted to the cons ervation of that which is
according to nature; for God hims elf has given me the faculty ofs uch choice." But
if I knew that it was fated for me to be s ick, Iwould even move toward it; for the
foot als o, if it hadintelligence, would move to go into the mud. For why are ears
ofcorn produced? Is it not that they may become dry? And do they notbecome dry that
they may be reaped? for they are not s eparated fromcommunion with other things . If
then they had perception, ought theyto wis h never to be reaped? But this is a curs e
upon ears of corn,never to be reaped. So we mus t know that in the cas e of men too
itis a curs e not to die, jus t the s ame as not to be ripened and not tobe reaped.
But s ince we mus t be reaped, and we als o know that we arereaped, we are vexed at
it; for we neither know what we are nor havewe s tudied what belongs to man, as
thos e who have s tudied hors es know what belongs to hors es . But Chrys antas , when he
was going tos trike the enemy, checked hims elf when he heard the trumpet s ounding a
retreat: s o it s eemed better to him to obey the general's command thanto follow his
own inclination. But not one of us choos es , even whenneces s ity s ummons , readily to
obey it, but weeping and groaning wes uffer what we do s uffer, and we call them
"circums tances ." Whatkind of circums tances , man? If you give the name of
circums tances tothe things which are around you, all things are circums tances ; but
if you call hards hips by this name, what hards hip is there in thedying of that
which has been produced? But that which des troys is either a s word, or a wheel, or
the s ea, or a tile, or a tyrant. Why doyou care about the way of going down to
Hades ? All ways are equal. Butif you will lis ten to the truth, the way which the
tyrant s ends you is s horter. A tyrant never killed a man in s ix months : but a fever
is often a year about it. All thes e things are only s ound and the nois eof empty
names . "I am in danger of my life from Caes ar." And am not I in dangerwho dwell in
Nicopolis , where there are s o many earthquakes : andwhen you are cros s ing the
Hadriatic, what hazard do you run? Is it notthe hazard of your life? "But I am in
danger als o as to opinion." D oyou mean your own? how? For who can compel you to
have any opinionwhich you do not choos e? But is it as to another man's opinion? and
what kind of danger is yours , if others have fals e opinions ? "But I amin danger of
being banis hed." What is it to be banis hed? To bes omewhere els e than at Rome? "Yes :
what then if I s hould be s ent toGyara?" If that s uits you, you will go there; but
if it does not,you can go to another place ins tead of Gyara, whither he als o will
go,who s ends you to Gyara, whether he choos e or not. Why then do you goup to Rome
as if it were s omething great? It is not worth all this preparation, that an
ingenuous youth s hould s ay, "It was not worthwhile to have heard s o much and to
have written s o much and to haves at s o long by the s ide of an old man who is not
worth much." Onlyremember that divis ion by which your own and not your own are
dis tinguis hed: never claim anything which belongs to others . Atribunal and a pris on
are each a place, one high and the other low;but the will can be maintained equal,
if you choos e to maintain itequal in each. And we s hall then be imitators of
Socrates , when we areable to write paeans in pris on. But in our pres ent
dis pos ition,cons ider if we could endure in pris on another pers on s aying to us .
"Would you like me to read Paeans to you?" "Why do you trouble me?do you not know
the evils which hold me? Can I in s uch circums tances ?"What circums tances ? "I am
going to die." And will other men beimmortal? CHAPTER 7 How we ought to us e
divination Through an unreas onable regard to divination many of us omit many
duties . For what more can the diviner s ee than death or danger ordis eas e, generally
things of that kind? If then I mus t expos e mys elfto danger for a friend, and if it
is my duty even to die for him, whatneed have I then for divination? Have I not
within me a diviner whohas told me the nature of good and of evil, and has
explained to methe s igns of both? What need have I then to cons ult the vis cera of
victims or the flight of birds , and why do I s ubmit when he s ays ,"It is for your
interes t"? For does he know what is for my interes t,does he know what is good; and
as he has learned the s igns of thevis cera, has he als o learned the s igns of good
and evil? For if heknows the s igns of thes e, he knows the s igns both of the
beautiful andof the ugly, and of the jus t and of the unjus t. D o you tell me, man,
what is the thing which is s ignified for me: is it life or death,poverty or wealth?
But whether thes e things are for my interes t orwhether they are not, I do not
intend to as k you. Why don't you giveyour opinion on matters of grammar, and why do
you give it hereabout things on which we are all in error and dis puting with one
another? The woman, therefore, who intended to s end by a ves s el amonth's provis ions
to Gratilla in her banis hment, made a good ans werto him who s aid that D omitian
would s eize what s he s ent. "I wouldrather," s he replied, "that D omitian s hould
s eize all than that Is hould not s end it." What then leads us to frequent us e of
divination? Cowardice, thedread of what will happen. This is the reas on why we
flatter thediviners . "Pray, mas ter, s hall I s ucceed to the property of myfather?"
"Let us s ee: let us s acrifice on the occas ion." "Yes , mas ter,as fortune choos es ."
When he has s aid, "You s hall s ucceed to theinheritance," we thank him as if we
received the inheritance from him.The cons equence is that they play upon us . What
then s hould we do? We ought to come without des ire or avers ion,as the wayfarer as ks
of the man whom he meets which of two roads leads (to his journey's end), without
any des ire for that which leads to theright rather than to the left, for he has no
wis h to go by any roadexcept the road which leads (to his end). In the s ame way
ought weto come to God als o as a guide; as we us e our eyes , not as king them tos how
us rather s uch things as we wis h, but receiving the appearances of things s uch as
the eyes pres ent them to us . But now we tremblingtake the augur by the hand, and,
while we invoke God, we entreat theaugur, and s ay, "Mas ter have mercy on me; s uffer
me to come s afe outof this difficulty." Wretch would you have, then, anything other
than what is bes t? Is there then anything better than what pleas es God? Why do you,
s o far as in your power, corrupt your judge andlead as tray your advis er? CHAPTER 8
What is the nature of the good God is beneficial. But the Good als o is beneficial.
It is cons is tentthen that where the nature of God is , there als o the nature of the
good s hould be. What then is the nature of God? Fles h? Certainlynot. An es tate in
land? By no means . Fame? No. Is it intelligence,knowledge, right reas on? Yes .
Herein then s imply s eek the nature ofthe good; for I s uppos e that you do not s eek
it in a plant. No. D o yous eek it in an irrational animal? No. If then you s eek it
in a rationalanimal, why do you s till s eek it anywhere except in the s uperiority of
rational over irrational animals ? Now plants have not even the powerof us ing
appearances , and for this reas on you do not apply the termgood to them. The good
then requires the us e of appearances . D oes itrequire this us e only? For if you s ay
that it requires this us eonly, s ay that the good, and that happines s and
unhappines s are inirrational animals als o. But you do not s ay this , and you do
right;for if they pos s es s even in the highes t degree the us e of appearances ,yet
they have not the
faculty of unders tanding the us e of appearances ;and there is good reas on for this ,
for they exis t for the purpos e ofs erving others , and they exercis e no s uperiority.
For the as s , Is uppos e, does not exis t for any s uperiority over others . No; but
becaus e we had need of a back which is able to bear s omething; andin truth we had
need als o of his being able to walk, and for this reas on he received als o the
faculty of making us e of appearances ,for otherwis e he would not have been able to
walk. And here thenthe matter s topped. For if he had als o received the faculty of
comprehending the us e of appearances , it is plain that cons is tentlywith reas on he
would not then have been s ubjected to us , nor wouldhe have done us thes e s ervices ,
but he would have been equal to us andlike to us . Will you not then s eek the
nature of good in the rational animal?for if it is not there, you not choos e to s ay
that it exis ts in anyother thing. "What then? are not plants and animals als o the
works of God?" They are; but they are not s uperior things , nor yet parts of the Gods .
But you are a s uperior thing; you are a portion s eparatedfrom the deity; you have
in yours elf a certain portion of him. Whythen are you ignorant of your own noble
des cent? Why do you not knowwhence you came? will you not remember when you are
eating, who youare who eat and whom you feed? When you are in conjunction with a
woman, will you not remember who you are who do this thing? When youare in s ocial
intercours e, when you are exercis ing yours elf, whenyou are engaged in dis cus s ion,
know you not that you are nouris hinga god, that you are exercis ing a god? Wretch,
you are carrying about agod with you, and you know it not. D o you think that I mean
s ome Godof s ilver or of gold, and external? You carry him within yours elf, andyou
perceive not that you are polluting him by impure thoughts anddirty deeds . And if
an image of God were pres ent, you would not dareto do any of the things which you
are doing: but when God hims elf is pres ent within and s ees all and hears all, you
are not as hamed ofthinking s uch things and doing s uch things , ignorant as you are
ofyour own nature and s ubject to the anger of God. Then why do we fearwhen we are
s ending a young man from the s chool into active life, les the s hould do anything
improperly, eat improperly, have improperintercours e with women; and les t the rags
in which he is wrappeds hould debas e him, les t fine garments s hould make him proud?
This youth does not know his own God: he knows not with whom he s ets out.But can we
endure when he s ays , "I wis h I had you with me." Have younot God with you? and do
you s eek for any other, when you have him? orwill God tell you anything els e than
this ? If you were a s tatue ofPhidias , either Athena or Zeus you would think broth
of yours elf andof the artis t, and if you had any unders tanding you would try to do
nothing unworthy of him who made you or of yours elf, and try not toappear in an
unbecoming dres s to thos e who look on you. But nowbecaus e Zeus has made you, for
this reas on do you care not how yous hall appear? And yet is the artis t like the
artis t in the other? orthe work in the one cas e like the other? And what work of an
artis t,for ins tance, has in its elf the faculties , which the artis t s hows inmaking
it? Is it not marble or bronze, or gold or ivory? and theAthena of Phidias when s he
has once extended the hand and receivedin it the figure of Victory s tands in that
attitude forever. But theworks of God have power of motion, they breathe, they have
the facultyof us ing the appearances of things , and the power of examining them.
Being the work of s uch an artis t, do you dis honor him? And whats hall I s ay, not
only that he made you, but als o intrus ted you toyours elf and made you a depos it to
yours elf? Will you not think ofthis too, but do you als o dis honor your
guardians hip? But if God hadintrus ted an orphan to you, would you thus neglect him?
He has delivered yours elf to your care, and s ays , "I had no one fitter tointrus t him
to than yours elf: keep him for me s uch as he is by nature,modes t, faithful, erect,
unterrified, free from pas s ion andperturbation." And then you do not keep him s uch.
But s ome will s ay, "Whence has this fellow got the arrogance whichhe dis plays and
thes e s upercilious looks ?" I have not yet s o muchgravity as befits a philos opher;
for I do not yet feel confidence inwhat I have learned and what I have as s ented to:
I s till fear my ownweaknes s . Let me get confidence and the, you s hall s ee a
countenances uch as I ought to have and an attitude s uch as I ought to have:then I
will s how to you the s tatue, when it is perfected, when it is polis hed. What do you
expect? a s upercilious countenance? D oes theZeus at Olympia lift up his brow? No,
his look is fixed as becomes himwho is ready to s ay Irrevocable is my word and
s hall not fail.Such will I s how mys elf to you, faithful, modes t, noble, free from
perturbation. "What, and immortal too, exempt from old age, and froms icknes s ?" No,
but dying as becomes a god, s ickening as becomes a god.This power I pos s es s ; this I
can do. But the res t I do not pos s es s ,nor can I do. I will s how the nerves of a
philos opher. "What nerves are thes e?" A des ire never dis appointed, an avers ion which
never falls on that which it would avoid, a proper purs uit, a diligent purpos e, an
as s ent which is not ras h. Thes e you s hall s ee. CHAPTER 9 That when we cannot
fulfill that which the character of a manpromis es , we as s ume the character of a
philos opher It is no common thing to do this only, to fulfill the promis e of a
man's nature. For what is a man? The ans wer is : "A rational and mortalbeing." Then,
by the rational faculty, from whom are we s eparated?From wild beas ts . And from what
others ? From s heep and like animals .Take care then to do nothing like a wild beas t;
but if you do, youhave los t the character of a man; you have not fulfilled your
promis e.See that you do nothing like a s heep; but if you do, in this cas ethe man is
los t. What then do we do as s heep? When we actgluttonous ly, when we act lewdly,
when we act ras hly, filthily,incons iderately, to what have we declined? To s heep.
What have welos t? The rational faculty. When we act contentious ly and harmfullyand
pas s ionately, and violently, to what have we declined? To wildbeas ts . Cons equently
s ome of us are great wild beas ts , and others little beas ts , of a bad dis pos ition and
s mall, whence we may s ay, "Letme be eaten by a lion." But in all thes e ways the
promis e of a manacting as a man is des troyed. For when is a conjunctive propos ition
maintained? When it fulfills what its nature promis es ; s o that thepres ervation of a
complex propos ition is when it is a conjunction oftruths . When is a dis junctive
maintained? When it fulfills what itpromis es . When are flutes , a lyre, a hors e, a
dog, pres erved? Whatis the wonder then if man als o in like manner is pres erved, and
inlike manner is los t? Each man is improved and pres erved bycorres ponding acts , the
carpenter by acts of carpentry, the grammarianby acts of grammar. But if a man
accus toms hims elf to writeungrammatically, of neces s ity his art will be corrupted
and des troyed.Thus modes t actions pres erve the modes t man, and immodes t actions
des troy him: and actions of fidelity pres erve the faithful man, andthe contrary
actions des troy him. And on the other hand contraryactions s trengthen contrary
characters : s hameles s nes s s trengthens the s hameles s man, faithles s nes s the faithles s
man, abus ive words the abus ive man, anger the man of an angry temper, and unequal
receiving and giving make the avaricious man more avaricious . For this reas on
philos ophers admonis h us not to be s atis fied withlearning only, but als o to add
s tudy, and then practice. For we havelong been accus tomed to do contrary things ,
and we put in practiceopinions which are contrary to true opinions . If then we
s hall notals o put in practice right opinions , we s hall be nothing more than the
expos itors of the opinions of others . For now who among us is not ableto dis cus s
according to the rules of art about good and evil things ?"That of things s ome are
good, and s ome are bad, and s ome areindifferent: the good then are virtues , and the
things whichparticipate in virtues ; and the are the contrary; and theindifferent
are wealth, health, reputation." Then, if in the mids tof our talk there s hould
happen s ome greater nois e than us ual, or s omeof thos e who are pres ent s hould laugh
at us , we are dis turbed.Philos opher, where are the things which you were talking
about? Whencedid you produce and utter them? From the lips , and thence only. Why
then do you corrupt the aids provided by others ? Why do you treatthe weighties t
matters as if you were playing a game of dice? For itis one thing to lay up bread
and wine as in a s torehous e, andanother thing to eat. That which has been eaten, is
diges ted,dis tributed, and is become s inews , fles h, bones , blood, healthycolour,
healthy breath. Whatever is s tored up, when you choos e you canreadily take and s how
it; but you have no other advantage from itexcept s o far as to appear to pos s es s
it. For what is the differencebetween explaining thes e doctrines and thos e of men
who have differentopinions ? Sit down now and explain according to the rules of art
theopinions of Epicurus , and perhaps you will explain his opinions in amore us eful
manner than Epicurus hims elf. Why then do you callyours elf a Stoic? Why do you
deceive the many? Why do you deceivethe many? Why do you act the part of a Jew,
when you are a Greek? D oyou not s ee how each is called a Jew, or a Syrian or an
Egyptian?and when we s ee a man inclining to two s ides , we are accus tomed tos ay,
"This man is not a Jew, but he acts as one." But when he has as s umed the affects of
one who has been imbued with Jewis h doctrineand
has adopted that s ect, then he is in fact and he is named a Jew.Thus we too being
fals ely imbued, are in name Jews , but in fact we ares omething els e. Our affects are
incons is tent with our words ; we arefar from practicing what we s ay, and that of
which we are proud, as ifwe knew it. Thus being, unable to fulfill even what the
character of aman promis es , we even add to it the profes s ion of a philos opher,
whichis as heavy a burden, as if a man who is unable to bear ten pounds s hould
attempt to rais e the s tone which Ajax lifted. CHAPTER 10 How we may dis cover the
duties of life from names Cons ider who you are. In the firs t place, you are a man;
and this is one who has nothing s uperior to the faculty of the will, but all other
things s ubjected to it; and the faculty its elf he pos s es s es unens lavedand free from
s ubjection. Cons ider then from what things you have beens eparated by reas on. You
have been s eparated from wild beas ts : youhave been s eparated from domes tic animals .
Further, you are acitizen of the world, and a part of it, not one of the
s ubs ervient,but one of the principal parts , for you are capable of comprehendingthe
divine adminis tration and of cons idering the connection of things .What then does
the character of a citizen promis e? To hold nothingas profitable to hims elf; to
deliberate about nothing as if he weredetached from the community, but to act as
the hand or foot woulddo, if they had reas on and unders tood the cons titution of
nature,for they would never put thems elves in motion nor des ire anything,otherwis e
than with reference to the whole. Therefore the philos ophers s ay well, that if the
good man had foreknowledge of what would happen,he would cooperate toward his own
s icknes s and death and mutilation,s ince he knows that thes e things are as s igned to
him according tothe univers al arrangement, and that the whole is s uperior to the
part and the s tate to the citizen. But now, becaus e we do not know thefuture, it is
our duty to s tick to the things which are in theirnature more s uitable for our
choice, for we were made among otherthings for this . After this , remember that you
are a s on. What does this characterpromis e? To cons ider that everything which is
the s on's belongs to thefather, to obey him in all things , never to blame him to
another,nor to s ay or do anything which does him injury, to yield to him inall
things and give way, cooperating with him as far as you can. Afterthis know that
you are a brother als o, and that to this character itis due to make conces s ions ; to
be eas ily pers uaded, to s peak good ofyour brother, never to claim in oppos ition to
him any of the things which are independent of the will, but readily to give them
up, thatyou may have the larger s hare in what is dependent on the will. Fors ee what
a thing it is , in place of a lettuce, if it s hould s o happen,or a s eat, to gain for
yours elf goodnes s of dis pos ition. How greatis the advantage. Next to this , if you
are s enator of any s tate, remember that you area s enator: if a youth, that you are
a youth: if an old man, that youare an old man; for each of s uch names , if it comes
to be examined,marks out the proper duties . But if you go and blame your brother, I
s ay to you, "You have forgotten who you are and what is your name." Inthe next
place, if you were a s mith and made a wrong us e of thehammer, you would have
forgotten the s mith; and if you haveforgotten the brother and ins tead of a brother
have become an enemy,would you appear not to have changed one thing for another in
thatcas e? And if ins tead of a man, who is a tame animal and s ocial, youare become a
mis chievous wild beas t, treacherous , and biting, have youlos t nothing? But, you
mus t los e a bit of money that you may s ufferdamage? And does the los s of nothing
els e do a man damage? If youhad los t the art of grammar or mus ic, would you think
the los s of it adamage? and if you s hall los e modes ty, moderation and gentlenes s ,
doyou think the los s nothing? And yet the things firs t mentioned arelos t by s ome
caus e external and independent of the will, and thes econd by our own fault; and as
to the firs t neither to have themnor to los e them is s hameful; but as to the
s econd, not to have themand to los e them is s hameful and matter of reproach and a
mis fortune. What does the pathic los e? He los es the man. What does he los e who makes
the pathic what he is ? Many other things ; and heals o los es the man no les s than the
other. What does he los e whocommits adultery? He los es the modes t, the temperate,
the decent,the citizen, the neighbour. What does he los e who is angry?Something
els e. What does the coward los e? Something els e. No man is bad without s uffering
s ome los s and damage. If then you look for thedamage in the los s of money only, all
thes e men receive no harm ordamage; it may be, they have even profit and gain, when
they acquire abit of money by any of thes e deeds . But cons ider that if you refer
everything to a s mall coin, not even he who los es his nos e is inyour opinion
damaged. "Yes ," you s ay, "for he is mutilated in his body." Well; but does he who
has los t his s mell only los e nothing?Is there, then, no energy of the s oul which is
an advantage to him whopos s es s es it, and a damage to him who has los t it? "Tell me
whats ort you mean." Have we not a natural modes ty? "We have." D oes hewho los es this
s us tain no damage? is he deprived of nothing, does hepart with nothing of the
things which belong to him? Have we notnaturally fidelity? natural affection, a
natural dis pos ition to helpothers , a natural dis pos ition to forbearance? The man
then whoallows hims elf to be damaged in thes e matters , can he be free fromharm and
uninjured? "What then? s hall I not hurt him, who has hurtme?" In the firs t place
cons ider what hurt is , and remember what youhave heard from the philos ophers . For
if the good cons is ts in thewill, and the evil als o in the will, s ee if what you s ay
is notthis : "What then, s ince that man has hurt hims elf by doing an unjus tact to
me, s hall I not hurt mys elf by doing s ome unjus t act to him?"Why do we not imagine
to s omething of this kind? But where there is any detriment to the body or to our
pos s es s ion, there is harm there;and where the s ame thing happens to the faculty of
the will, thereis no harm; for he who has been deceived or he who has done anunjus t
act neither s uffers in the head nor in the eye nor in thehip, nor does he los e his
es tate; and we wis h for nothing els e thanthes e things . But whether we s hall have
the will modes t and faithfulor s hameles s and faithles s , we care not the leas t,
except only inthe s chool s o far as a few words are concerned. Therefore our
proficiency is limited to thes e few words ; but beyond them it does notexis t even in
the s lightes t degree. CHAPTER 11 What the beginning of philos ophy is The
beginning of philos ophy to him at leas t who enters on it inthe right way and by the
door, is a cons cious nes s of his ownweaknes s and inability about neces s ary things .
For we come into theworld with no natural notion of a right-angled triangle, or of
adies is , or of a half tone; but we learn each of thes e things by acertain
trans mis s ion according to art; and for this reas on thos e whodo not know them, do
not think that they know them. But as to good andevil, and beautiful and ugly, and
becoming and unbecoming, andhappines s and mis fortune, and proper and improper, and
what we oughtto do and what we ought not to do, whoever came into the world without
having an innate idea of them? Wherefore we all us e thes e names , andwe endeavor to
fit the preconceptions to the s everal cas es thus : "Hehas done well, he has not done
well; he has done as he ought, not as he ought; he has been unfortunate, he has been
fortunate; he is unjus t, he is jus t": who does not us e thes e names ? who among us
defers the us e of them till he has learned them, as he defers the us e ofthe words
about lines or s ounds ? And the caus e of this is that we comeinto the world already
taught as it were by nature s ome things on this matter, and proceeding from thes e we
have added to thems elf-conceit. "For why," a man s ays , "do I not know the beautiful
and the ugly? Have I not the notion of it?" You have. "D o I notadapt it to
particulars ?" You do. "D o I not then adapt it properly?"In that lies the whole
ques tion; and conceit is added here. For,beginning from thes e things which are
admitted, men proceed to thatwhich is matter of dis pute by means of uns uitable
adaptation; for ifthey pos s es s ed this power of adaptation in addition to thos e
things ,what would hinder them from being perfect? But now s ince you thinkthat you
properly adapt the preconceptions to the particulars , tell mewhence you derive
this . Becaus e I think s o. But it does not s eem s o toanother, and he thinks that he
als o makes a proper adaptation; or does he not think s o? He does think s o. Is it
pos s ible then that both ofyou can properly apply the preconceptions to things about
which youhave contrary opinions ? It is not pos s ible. Can you then s how us anything
better toward adapting the preconceptions beyond yourthinking that you do? D oes the
madman do any other things than thethings as in which s eem to him right? Is then
this criterion for himals o? It is not s ufficient. Come then to s omething which is
s uperiorto s eeming. What is this ? Obs erve, this is the beginning of philos ophy, a
perception of thedis agreement of men with one another, and an inquiry into the
caus e ofthe dis agreement, and a condemnation and dis trus t of that which only
"s eems ," and a certain inves tigation of that which "s eems " whetherit "s eems "
rightly, and a dis covery of s ome rule, as we havedis covered a balance in the
determination of weights , and acarpenter's rule in the cas e of s traight and crooked
things . This is the beginning of philos ophy. "Mus t we s ay that
all thins are rightwhich s eem s o to all?" And how is it pos s ible that
contradictions can be right? "Not all then, but all which s eem to us to be right."
How more to you than thos e which s eem right to the Syrians ? why morethan what s eem
right to the Egyptians ? why more than what s eems right to me or to any other man?
"Not at all more." What then"s eems " to every man is not s ufficient for determining
what "is ";for neither in the cas e of weights or meas ures are we s atis fied withthe
bare appearance, but in each cas e we have dis covered a certainrule. In this matter
then is there no rule certain to what "s eems ?"And how is it pos s ible that the mos t
neces s ary things among men s houldhave no s ign, and be incapable of being
dis covered? There is then s omerule. And why then do we not s eek the rule and
dis cover it, andafterward us e it without varying from it, not even s tretching out
the finger without it? For this , I think, is that which when it is dis covered cures
of their madnes s thos e who us e mere "s eeming" as ameas ure, and mis us e it; s o that
for the future proceeding from certainthings known and made clear we may us e in the
cas e of particularthings the preconceptions which are dis tinctly fixed. What is
the matter pres ented to us about which we are inquiring?"Pleas ure." Subject it to
the rule, throw it into the balance. Oughtthe good to be s uch a thing that it is
fit that we have confidencein it? "Yes ." And in which we ought to confide? "It
ought to be." Is it fit to trus t to anything which is ins ecure? "No." Is then
pleas ure anything s ecure? "No." Take it then and throw it out of thes cale, and
drive it far away from the place of good things . But if youare not s harp-s ighted,
and one balance is not enough for you, bringanother. Is it fit to be elated over
what is good? "Yes ." Is it properthen to be elated over pres ent pleas ure? See that
you do not s aythat it is proper; but if you do, I s hall then not think you are
worthy even of the balance. Thus things are tes ted and weighed whenthe rules are
ready. And to philos ophize is this , to examine andconfirm the rules ; and then to
us e them when they are known is the actof a wis e and good man. CHAPTER 12 Of
dis putation or dis cus s ion What things a man mus t learn in order to be able to
apply the art ofdis putation, has been accurately s hown by our philos ophers ; but
withres pect to the proper us e of the things , we are entirely withoutpractice. Only
give to any of us , whom you pleas e, an illiterate manto dis cus s with,, and he
cannot dis cover how to deal with the man. Butwhen he has moved the man a little, if
he ans wers bes ide thepurpos e, he does not know how to treat him, but he then either
abus es or ridicules him, and s ays , "He is an illiterate man; it is notpos s ible to
do anything with him." Now a guide, when he has found aman out of the road leads
him into the right way: he does not ridiculeor abus e him and then leave him. D o you
als o s how this illiterateman the truth, and you will s ee that he follows . But s o
long as you donot s how him the truth, do not ridicule him, but rather feel yourown
incapacity. How then did Socrates act? He us ed to compel his advers ary in
dis putation to bear tes timony to him, and he wanted no otherwitnes s . Therefore he
could s ay, "I care not for other witnes s es ,but I am always s atis fied with the
evidence of my advers ary, and Ido not as k the opinion of others , but only the
opinion of him who is dis puting with me." For he us ed to make the conclus ions drawn
fromnatural notions s o plain that every man s aw the contradiction andwithdrew from
it: "D oes the envious man rejoice?" "By no means , but heis rather pained." Well,
"D o you think that envy is pain over evils ?and what envy is there of evils ?"
Therefore he made his advers arys ay that envy is pain over good things . "Well then,
would any man envythos e who are nothing to him?" "By no means ." Thus having
completedthe notion and dis tinctly fixed it he would go away without s ayingto his
advers ary, "D efine to me envy"; and if the advers ary haddefined envy, he did not
s ay, "You have defined it badly, for theterms of the definition do not corres pond
to the thing defined." Thes eare technical terms , and for this reas on dis agreeable
and hardlyintelligible to illiterate men, which terms we cannot lay as ide. Butthat
the illiterate man hims elf, who follows the appearances pres entedto him, s hould be
able to concede anything or reject it, we cannever by the us e of thes e terms move
him to do. Accordingly, beingcons cious of our own inability, we do not attempt the
thing; atleas t s uch of us as have any caution do not. But the greater partand the
ras h, when they enter into s uch dis putations , confus ethems elves and confus e others ;
and finally abus ing their advers aries and abus ed by them, they walk away. Now this
was the firs t and chief peculiarity of Socrates , never tobe irritated in argument,
never to utter anything abus ive, anythingins ulting, but to bear with abus ive
pers ons and to put an end to thequarrel. If you would know what great power he had
in this way, readthe Sympos ium of Xenophon, and you will s ee how many quarrels he
putan end to. Hence with good reas on in the poets als o this power is mos thighly
prais ed, Quickly with the s kill he s ettles great dis putes . Well then; the
matter is not now very s afe, and particularly atRome; for he who attempts to do it,
mus t not do it in a corner, youmay be s ure, but mus t go to a man of cons ular rank,
if it s o happen,or to a rich man, and as k him, "Can you tell me, Sir, to whos e care
you have entrus ted your hors es ?" "I can tell you." Here youentrus ted them to a
pers on indifferently and to one who has noexperience of hors es ? "By no means ." Well
then; can you tell me towhom you entrus t your gold or s ilver things or your
ves tments ? "Idon't entrus t even thes e to anyone indifferently." Well; your ownbody,
have you already cons idered about entrus ting the care of it toany pers on?
"Certainly." To a man of experience, I s uppos e, and oneacquainted with the aliptic,
or with the healing art? "Without adoubt." Are thes e the bes t things that you have,
or do you als opos s es s s omething els e which is better than all thes e? "What kind of
thing do you mean?" That I mean which makes us e of thes e things , andtes ts each of
thes e things and deliberates . "Is it the s oul that youmean?" You think right, for
it is the s oul that I mean. "In truth I dothink the s oul is a much better thing
than all the others which Ipos s es s ." Can you then s how us in what way you have
taken care ofthe s oul? for it is not likely that you, who are s o wis e a man andhave
a reputation in the city, incons iderately and careles s ly allowthe mos t valuable
thing that you pos s es s to be neglected and toperis h? "Certainly not." But have you
taken care of the s oul yours elf;and have you learned from another to do this , or
have you dis coveredthe means yours elf? Here comes the danger that in the firs t
place hemay s ay, "What is this to you, my good man, who are you?" Next, if you
pers is t in troubling him, there is a danger that he may rais e his hands and give you
blows . I was once mys elf als o an admirer of this mode of ins truction until I fell
into thes e dangers . CHAPTER 13 On anxiety When I s ee a man anxious , I s ay, "What
does this man want? If he didnot want s omething which is not in his power, how
could he beanxious ?" For this reas on a lute player when he is s inging byhims elf has
no anxiety, but when he enters the theatre, he is anxious even if he has a good
voice and plays well on the lute; for henot only wis hes to s ing well, but als o to
obtain applaus e: but this is not in his power. Accordingly, where he has s kill,
there he has confidence. Bring any s ingle pers on who knows nothing of mus ic, andthe
mus ician does not care for him. But in the matter where a manknows nothing and has
not been practiced, there he is anxious . Whatmatter is this ? He knows not what a
crowd is or what the prais e of acrowd is . However he has learned to s trike the
lowes t chord and thehighes t; but what the prais e of the many is , and what power it
has in life he neither knows nor has he thought about it. Hence he mus t ofneces s ity
tremble and grow pale. I cannot then s ay that a man is not alute player when I s ee
him afraid, but I can s ay s omething els e, andnot one thing, but many. And firs t of
all I call him a s tranger ands ay, "This man does not know in what part of the world
he is , butthough he has been here s o long, he is ignorant of the laws of theState
and the cus toms , and what is permitted and what is not; and hehas never employed
any lawyer to tell him and to explain the laws ."But a man does not write a will, if
he does not does not know how itought to be written, or he employs a pers on who
does know; nor does heras hly s eal a bond or write a s ecurity. But he us es his
des ire withouta lawyer's advice, and avers ion, and purs uit, and attempt and
purpos e."How do you mean without a lawyer?" He does not know that he wills what is
not allowed, and does not will that which is of neces s ity; andhe does not know
either what is his own or what is or what is another man's ; but if he did know, he
could never be impeded, he wouldnever be hindered, he would not be anxious . "How
s o?" Is any manthen afraid about things which are not evil? "No." Is he afraidabout
things which are evils , but s till s o far within his power thatthey may not happen?
"Certainly he is not." If, then, the things whichare independent of the will are
neither good nor bad, and all things which do depend on the will are within our
power, and no man caneither take them from us or give them to us , if we do not
choos e,where is room left for anxiety? But we are anxious about our poorbody, our
little property, about the will of Caes ar; but not anxious about things internal.
Are we anxious about
not forming a fals eopinion? No, for this is in my power. About not exerting our
movements contrary to nature? No, not even about this . When then you s ee a manpale,
as the phys ician s ays , judging from the complexion, this man's s pleen is dis ordered,
that man's liver; s o als o s ay, this man's des ireand avers ion are dis ordered, he is
not in the right way, he is in afever. For nothing els e changes the color, or
caus es trembling orchattering of the teeth, or caus es a man to Sink in his
knees and s hift from foot to foot. For this reas on when Zeno was going to meet
Antigonus , he was notanxious , for Antigonus had no power over any of the things
whichZeno admired; and Zeno did not care for thos e things over whichAntigonus had
power. But Antigonus was anxious when he was going tomeet Zeno, for he wis hed to
pleas e Zeno; but this was a thingexternal. But Zeno did not want to pleas e
Antigonus ; for no man who is s killed in any art wis hes to pleas e one who has no s uch
s kill. Should I try to pleas e you? Why? I s uppos e, you know the meas ureby which
one man is es timated by another. Have you taken pains tolearn what is a good man
and what is a bad man, and how a manbecomes one or the other? Why, then, are you
not good yours elf? "How,"he replies , "am I not good?" Becaus e no good man laments
or roans orweeps , no good man is pale and trembles , or s ays , "How will he receive
me, how will he lis ten to me?" Slave, jus t as it pleas es him. Why doyou care about
what belongs to others ? Is it now his fault if hereceives badly what proceeds from
you? "Certainly." And is it pos s iblethat a fault s hould be one man's , and the evil
in another? "No." Whythen are you anxious about that which belongs to others ? "Your
ques tion is reas onable; but I am anxious how I s hall s peak to him."Cannot you then
s peak to him as you choos e? "But I fear that I maybe dis concerted?" If you are
going to write the name of D ion, areyou afraid that you would be dis concerted? "By
no means ." Why? is itnot becaus e you have practiced writing the name? "Certainly."
Well, ifyou were going to read the name, would you not feel the s ame? and why?
Becaus e every art has a certain s trength and confidence in thethings which belong
to it. Have you then not practiced s peaking? andwhat els e did you learn in the
s chool? Syllogis ms and s ophis ticalpropos itions ? For what purpos e? was it not for
the purpos e ofdis cours ing s killfully? and is not dis cours ing s killfully the s ameas
dis cours ing s eas onably and cautious ly and with intelligence, andals o without making
mis takes and without hindrance, and bes ides allthis with confidence? "Yes ." When,
then, you are mounted on a hors eand go into a plain, are you anxious at being
matched agains t a manwho is on foot, and anxious in a matter in which you are
practiced,and he is not? "Yes , but that pers on has power to kill me." Speakthe
truth then, unhappy man, and do not brag, nor claim to be aphilos opher, nor refus e
to acknowledge your mas ters , but s o long as you pres ent this handle in your body,
follow every man who is s trongerthan yours elf. Socrates us ed to practice s peaking,
he who talked as hedid to the tyrants , to the dicas ts , he who talked in his pris on.
D iogenes had practiced s peaking, he who s poke as he did toAlexander, to the
pirates , to the pers on who bought him. Thes e menwere confident in the things which
they practiced. But do you walk offto your own affairs and never leave them: go and
s it in a corner,and weave s yllogis ms , and propos e them to another. There is not in
youthe man who can rule a s tate. CHAPTER 14 To Nas o When a certain Roman entered
with his s on and lis tened to onereading, Epictetus s aid, "This is the method of
ins truction"; and hes topped. When the Roman as ked him to go on, Epictetus s aid:
Every art,when it is taught, caus es labour to him who is unacquainted with itand is
uns killed in it, and indeed the things which proceed from thearts immediately s how
their us e in the purpos e for which they weremade; and mos t of them contain
s omething attractive and pleas ing.For indeed to be pres ent and to obs erve how a
s hoemaker learns is not a pleas ant thing; but the s hoe is us eful and als o not
dis agreeableto look at. And the dis cipline of a s mith when he is learning is very
dis agreeable to one who chances to be pres ent and is a s trangerto the art: but the
work s hows the us e of the art. But you will s eethis much more in mus ic; for if you
are pres ent while a pers on is learning, the dis cipline will appear mos t
dis agreeable; and yet theres ults of mus ic are pleas ing and delightful to thos e who
know nothingof mus ic. And here we conceive the work of a philos opher to bes omething
of this kind: he mus t adapt his wis h to what is going on, s othat neither any of the
things which are taking place s hall take placecontrary to our wis h, nor any of the
things which do not take places hall not take place when we wis h that they s hould.
From this theres ult is to thos e who have s o arranged the work of philos ophy, not to
fall in the des ire, nor to fall in with that which they would avoid;without
uneas ines s , without fear, without perturbation to pas s throughlife thems elves ,
together with their as s ociates maintaining therelations both natural and acquired,
as the relation of s on, offather, of brother, of citizen, of man, of wife, of
neighbour, offellow-traveler, of ruler, of ruled. The work of a philos opher we
conceive to be s omething like this . It remains next to inquire howthis mus t be
accomplis hed. We s ee then that the carpenter when he has learned certain things
becomes a carpenter; the pilot by learning certain things becomes apilot. May it
not, then, in philos ophy als o not be s ufficient towis h to be wis e and good, and
that there is als o a neces s ity tolearn certain things ? We inquire then what thes e
things are. Thephilos ophers s ay that we ought firs t to learn that there is a Godand
that he provides for all things ; als o that it is not pos s ible toconceal from him
our acts , or even our intentions and thoughts . Thenext thing, is to learn what is
the nature of the Gods ; for s uch as they are dis covered to be, he, who would pleas e
and obey them, mus ttry with all his power to be like them. If the divine is
faithful, manals o mus t be faithful; if it is free, man als o mus t be free; if
beneficent, man als o mus t be beneficent; if magnanimous , man als o mus tbe
magnanimous ; as being, then an imitator of God, he mus t do ands ay everything
cons is tently with this fact. "With what then mus t we begin?" If you will enter on
the dis cus s ion,I will tell you that you mus t firs t unders tand names . "So, then, you
s ay that I do not now unders tand names ?" You do not unders tand them."How, then, do
I us e them?" Jus t as the illiterate us e writtenlanguage, as cattle us e appearances :
for us e is one thing,unders tanding is another. But if you think that you unders tand
them,produce whatever word you pleas e, and let us try whether we unders tandit. But
it is a dis agreeable thing for a man to be confuted who is nowold and, it may be,
has now s erved his three campaigns . I too knowthis : for now you are come to me as
if you were in want of nothing:and what could you even imagine to be wanting to
you? You are rich,you have children, and a wife, perhaps and many s laves : Caes ar
knows you, in Rome you have many friends , you render their dues to all,you know how
to requite him who does you a favour, and to repay in thes ame kind him who does a
wrong. What do you lack? If, then, I s halls how you that you lack the things mos t
neces s ary and the chiefthings for happines s , and that hitherto you have looked
aftereverything rather than what you ought, and, to crown all, that youneither know
what God is nor what man is , nor what is good nor what is bad; and as to what I have
s aid about your ignorance of other matters ,that may perhaps be endured, but if I
s ay that you know nothingabout yours elf, how is it pos s ible that you s hould endure
me andbear the proof and s tay here? It is not pos s ible; but youimmediately go off
in bad humour. And yet what harm have I done you?unles s the mirror als o injures the
ugly man becaus e it s hows him tohims elf s uch as he is ; unles s the phys ician als o is
s uppos ed to ins ultthe s ick man, when he s ays to him, "Man, do you think that you
ailnothing? But you have a fever: go without food to-day; drink water."And no one
s ays , "What an ins ult! " But if you s ay to a man, "Yourdes ires are inflamed, your
avers ions are low, your intentions areincons is tent, your purs uits are not
comfortable to nature, youropinions are ras h and fals e," the man immediately goes
away ands ays , "he has ins ulted me." Our way of dealing is like that of a crowded
as s embly. Beas ts arebrought to be s old and oxen; and the greater part of the men
come tobuy and s ell, and there are s ome few who come to look at the marketand to
inquire how it is carried on, and why, and who fixes themeeting and for what
purpos e. So it is here als o in this as s embly:s ome like cattle trouble thems elves
about nothing except their fodder.For to all of you who are bus y about pos s es s ions
and lands ands laves and magis terial offices , thes e are nothing except fodder. But
there are a few who attend the as s embly, men who love to look on andcons ider what
is the world, who governs it. Has it no governor? Andhow is it pos s ible that a city
or a family cannot continue to exis t,not even the s hortes t time without an
adminis trator and guardian,and that s o great and beautiful a s ys tem s hould be
adminis tered withs uch order and yet without a purpos e and by chance? There is then
anadminis trator. What kind of adminis trator and how does he govern?And who are we,
who were produced by him, and for what purpos e? Havewe s ome connection with him and
s ome relation toward him, or none?This is the way in which thes e few are affected,
and then they
applythems elves only to this one thing, to examine the meeting and thento go away.
What then? They are ridiculed by the many, as thes pectators at the fair are by the
traders ; and if the beas ts had anyunders tanding, they would ridicule thos e who
admired anything els ethan fodder. CHAPTER 15 To or agains t thos e who obs tinately
pers is t in what they havedetermined When s ome pers ons have heard thes e words , that
a man ought to becons tant, and that the will is naturally free and not s ubject to
compuls ion, but that all other things are s ubject to hindrance, tos lavery, and are
in the power of others , they s uppos e that theyought without deviation to abide by
everything which they havedetermined. But in the firs t place that which has been
determinedought to be s ound. I require tone in the body, but s uch as exis ts in a
healthy body, in an athletic body; but if it is plain to me that youhave the tone
of a frenzied man and you boas t of it, I s hall s ay toyou, "Man, s eek the
phys ician": this is not tone, but atony. In adifferent way s omething of the s ame
kind is felt by thos e who lis tento thes e dis cours es in a wrong manner; which was
the cas e with oneof my companions who for no reas on res olved to s tarve hims elf to
death. I heard of it when it was the third day of his abs tinencefrom food and I
went to inquire what had happened. "I haveres olved," he s aid. But s till tell me
what it was which induced you tores olve; for if you have res olved rightly, we s hall
s it with you andas s is t you to depart; but if you have made an unreas onable
res olution,change your mind. "We ought to keep to our determinations ." What areyou
doing, man? We ought to keep not to all our determinations , but tothos e which are
right; for if you are now pers uaded that it is right, do not change your mind, if
you think fit, but pers is t and s ay,"We ought to abide by our determinations ." Will
you not make thebeginning and lay the foundation in an inquiry whether the
determination is s ound or not s ound, and s o then build on itfirmnes s and s ecurity?
But if you lay a rotten and ruinous foundation,will not your mis erable little
building fall down the s ooner, the moreand the s tronger are the materials which you
s hall lay on it?Without any reas on would you withdraw from us out of life a man who
is a friend, and a companion, a citizen of the s ame city, both thegreat and the
s mall city? Then, while you are committing murder anddes troying a man who has done
no wrong, do you s ay that you ought toabide by your determinations ? And if it ever
in any way came into yourhead to kill me, ought you to abide by your
determinations ? Now this man was with difficulty pers uaded to change his mind. But
it is impos s ible to convince s ome pers ons at pres ent; s o that I s eemnow to know,
what I did not know, before, the meaning of the commons aying, "That you can neither
pers uade nor break a fool." May it neverbe my lot to have a wis e fool for my
friend: nothing is moreuntractable. "I am determined," the man s ays . Madmen are
als o; but themore firmly they form a judgment on things which do not exis t, themore
ellebore they require. Will you not act like a s ick man andcall in the phys ician?
"I am s ick, mas ter, help me; cons ider what Imus t do: it is my duty to obey you." So
it is here als o: "I know notwhat I ought to do, but I am come to learn." Not s o;
but, "Speak to meabout other things : upon this I have determined." What other
things ?for what is greater and more us eful than for you to be pers uadedthat it is
not s ufficient to have made your determination and not tochange it. This is the
tone of madnes s , not of health. "I will die, ifyou compel me to this ." Why, man?
What has happened? "I havedetermined." I have had a lucky es cape that you have not
determined tokill me. "I take no money." Why? "I have determined." Be as s uredthat
with the very tone which you now us e in refus ing to take, thereis nothing to hinder
you at s ome time from inclining without reas on totake money and then s aying, "I
have determined." As in a dis temperedbody, s ubject to defluxions , the humor
inclines s ometimes to thes eparts and then to thos e, s o too a s ickly s oul knows not
which way toincline: but if to this inclination and movement there is added atone,
then the evil becomes pas t help and cure. CHAPTER 16 That we do not s trive to us e
our opinions about good and evil Where is the good? In the will. Where is the
evil? In the will.Where is neither of them? In thos e things which are independent
of thewill. Well then? D oes any one among us think of thes e les s ons out ofthe
s chools ? D oes any one meditate by hims elf to give an ans wer tothings as in the cas e
of ques tions ? Is it day? "Yes ." Is it night?"No." Well, is the number of s tars
even? "I cannot s ay." When money is s hown to you, have you s tudied to make the
proper ans wer, that moneyis not a good thing? Have you practiced yours elf in thes e
ans wers ,or only agains t s ophis ms ? Why do you wonder then if in the cas es whichyou
have s tudied, in thos e you have improved; but in thos e which youhave not s tudied,
in thos e you remain the s ame? When the rhetoricianknows that he has written well,
that he has committed to memory whathe has written, and brings an agreeable voice,
why is he s tillanxious ? Becaus e he is not s atis fied with having s tudied. What then
does he want? To be prais ed by the audience? For the purpos e, then, ofbeing able to
practice declamation, he has been dis ciplined: butwith res pect to prais e and blame
he has not been dis ciplined. For whendid he hear from any one what prais e is , what
blame is , what thenature of each is , what kind of prais e s hould be s ought, or what
kind of blame s hould be s hunned? And when did he practice this dis cipline which
follows thes e words ? Why then do you s till wonder if,in the matters which a man has
learned, there he s urpas s es others , andin thos e in which he has not been
dis ciplined, there he is the s amewith the many. So the lute player knows how to
play, s ings well, andhas a fine dres s , and yet he trembles when he enters on the
s tage; forthes e matters he unders tands , but he does not know what a crowd is ,nor
the s houts of a crowd, nor what ridicule is . Neither does heknow what anxiety is ,
whether it is our work or the work of another,whether it is pos s ible to s top it or
not. For this reas on, if he has been prais ed, he leaves the theatre puffed up, but
if he has beenridiculed, the s wollen bladder has been punctured and s ubs ides . This
is the cas e als o with ours elves . What do we admire?Externals . About what things are
we bus y? Externals . And have we anydoubt then why we fear or why we are anxious ?
What, then, happens whenwe think the things which are coming on us to be evils ? It
is not inour power not to be afraid, it is not in our power not to beanxious . Then
we s ay, "Lord God, how s hall I not be anxious ?" Fool,have you not hands , did not
God make them for you, Sit down now andpray that your nos e may not run. Wipe
yours elf rather and do not blamehim. Well then, has he given to you nothing in the
pres ent cas e? Has he not given to you endurance? has he not given to you
magnanimity?has he not given to you manlines s ? When you have s uch hands , do youlook
for one who s hall wipe your you s t nos e? But we neither s tudythes e things nor care
for them. Give me a man who cares how he s halldo anything, not for the obtaining of
a thing but who cares abouthis own energy. What man, when he is walking about,
cares for his own energy? who, when he is deliberating, cares about his own
deliberation, and not about obtaining that about which he deliberates ?And if he
s ucceeds , he is elated and s ays , "How well we havedeliberated; did I not tell you,
brother, that it is impos s ible,when we have thought about anything, that it s hould
not turn outthus ?" But if the thing s hould turn out otherwis e, the wretched man is
humbled; he knows not even what to s ay about what has taken place. Whoamong us for
the s ake of this matter has cons ulted a s eer? Who amongus as to his actions has not
s lept in indifference? Who? Give to meone that I may s ee the man whom I have long
been looking for, who is truly noble and ingenuous , whether young or old; name him.
Why then are we s till s urpris ed, if we are well practiced inthinking about matters ,
but in our acts are low, without decency,worthles s , cowardly, impatient of labour,
altogether bad? For we donot care about things , nor do we s tudy them. But if we had
fearednot death or banis hment, but fear its elf, we s hould have s tudied notto fall
into thos e things which appear to us evils . Now in thes chool we are irritable and
wordy; and if any little ques tion aris es about any of thes e things , we are able to
examine them fully. But dragus to practice, and you will find us mis erably
s hipwrecked. Let s omedis turbing appearance come on us , and you will know what we
havebeen s tudying and in what we have been exercis ing ours elves .Cons equently,
through want of dis cipline, we are always addings omething to the appearance and
repres enting things to be greater thanwhat they are. For ins tance as to mys elf,
when I am on a voyage andlook down on the deep s ea, or look round on it and s ee no
land, I amout of my mind and imagine that I mus t drink up all this water if I am
wrecked, and it does not occur to me that three pints are enough. Whatthen dis turbs
me? The s ea? No, but my opinion. Again, when anearthquake s hall happen, I imagine
that the city is going to fall onme; is not one little s tone enough to knock my
brains out? What then are the things which are heavy on us and dis turb us ?What
els e than opinions ? What els e than opinions lies heavy upon himwho goes away and
leaves his companions and friends and places andhabits of life? Now little
children, for ins tance, when they cry onthe nurs e leaving them for a s hort time,
forget their
s orrow if theyreceive a s mall cake. D o you choos e then that we s hould compare you
tolittle children? No, by Zeus , for I do not wis h to be pacified by as mall cake,
but by right opinions . And what are thes e? Such as a manought to s tudy all day, and
not to be affected by anything that is nothis own, neither by companion nor place
nor gymnas ia, and not evenby his own body, but to remember the law and to have it
before his eyes . And what is the divine law? To keep a man's own, not to claimthat
which belongs to others , but to us e what is given, and when it is not given, not to
des ire it; and when a thing is taken away, to giveit up readily and immediately,
and to be thankful for the time thata man has had the us e of it, if you would not
cry for your nurs e andmamma. For what matter does it make by what thing a man is
s ubdued,and on what he depends ? In what res pect are you better than he whocries for
a girl, if you grieve for a little gymnas ium, and littleporticoes and young men and
s uch places of amus ement? Another comes and laments that he s hall no longer drink
the water of D irce. Is theMarcian water wors e than that of D irce? "But I was us ed
to the waterof D irce?" And you in turn will be us ed to the other. Then if youbecome
attached to this als o, cry for this too, and try to make avers e like the vers e of
Euripides , The hot baths of Nero and the Marcian water.See how tragedy is made
when common things happen to s illy men. "When then s hall I s ee Athens again and
the Acropolis ?" Wretch,are you not content with what you s ee daily? have you
anythingbetter or greater to s ee than the s un, the moon, the s tars , thewhole earth,
the s ea? But if indeed you comprehend him who adminis ters the Whole, and carry him
about in yours elf, do you s till des ires mall s tones , and a beautiful rock? When,
then, you are going to leavethe s un its elf and the moon, what will you do? will you
s it and weeplike children? Well, what have you been doing in the s chool? whatdid
you hear, what did you learn? why did you write yours elf aphilos opher, when you
might have written the truth; as , "I madecertain introductions , and I read
Chrys ippus , but I did not evenapproach the door of a philos opher." For how s hould I
pos s es s anythingof the kind which Socrates pos s es s ed, who died as he did, who lived
as he did, or anything s uch as D iogenes pos s es s ed? D o you think thatany one of s uch
men wept or grieved, becaus e he was not going to s ee acertain man, or a certain
woman, nor to be in Athens or in Corinth,but, if it s hould s o happen, in Sus a or in
Ecbatana? For if a mancan quit the banquet when he choos es , and no longer amus e
hims elf,does he s till s tay and complain, and does he not s tay, as at anyamus ement,
only s o long as he is pleas ed? Such a man, I s uppos e, wouldendure perpetual exile
or to be condemned to death. Will you not beweaned now, like children, and take
more s olid food, and not cry aftermammas and nurs es , which are the lamentations of
old women? "But ifI go away, I s hall caus e them s orrow." You caus e them s orrow? By
nomeans ; but that will caus e them s orrow which als o caus es you s orrow,opinion. What
have you to do then? Take away your own opinion, andif thes e women are wis e, they
will take away their own: if they donot, they will lament through their own fault.
My man, as the proverb s ays , make a des perate effort on behalf oftranquillity of
mind, freedom and magnanimity. Lift up your head atlas t as releas ed from s lavery.
D are to look up to God and s ay, "D ealwith me for the future as thou wilt; I am of
the s ame mind as thouart; I am thine: I refus e nothing that pleas es thee: lead me
wherethou wilt: clothe me in any dres s thou choos es t: is it thy will that Is hould
hold the office of a magis trate, that I s hould be in thecondition of a private man,
s tay there or be an exile, be poor, berich? I will make thy defens e to men in
behalf of all thes econditions . I will s how the nature of each thing what it is ."
You willnot do s o; but s it in an ox's belly, and wait for your mamma tills he s hall
feed you. Who would Hercules have been, if he had s at athome? He would have been
Eurys theus and not Hercules . Well, and in his travels through the world how many
intimates and how many friends had he? But nothing more dear to him than God. For
this reas on itwas believed that he was the s on of God, and he was . In obedience to
God, then, he went about purging away injus tice and lawles s nes s . Butyou are not
Hercules and you are not able to purge away the wickednes s of others ; nor yet are
you Thes eus , able to pure away the evilthings of Attica. Clear away your own. From
yours elf, from yourthoughts cas t away, ins tead of Procrus tes and Sciron, s adnes s ,
fear,des ire, envy, malevolence, avarice, effeminacy, intemperance. But itis not
pos s ible to eject thes e things otherwis e than by looking to Godonly, by fixing your
affections on him only, by being cons ecrated tohis commands . But if you choos e
anything els e, you will with s ighs andgroans be compelled to follow what is
s tronger than yours elf, always s eeking tranquillity and never able to find it; for
you s eektranquillity there where it is not, and you neglect to s eek it whereit is .
CHAPTER 17 How we mus t adapt preconceptions to particular cas es What is the firs t
bus ines s of him who philos ophizes ? To throw aways elf-conceit. For it is impos s ible
for a man to begin to learn thatwhich he thinks that he knows . As to things then
which ought to bedone and ought not to be done, and good and bad, and beautiful and
ugly, all of us talking of them at random go to the philos ophers ;and on thes e
matters we prais e, we cens ure, we accus e, we blame, wejudge and determine about
principles honourable and dis honourable. Butwhy do we go to the philos ophers ?
Becaus e we wis h to learn what wedo not think we know. And what is this ? Theorems .
For we wis h to learnwhat philos ophers s ay as being s omething elegant and acute; and
s omewis h to learn that they may get profit what they learn. It is ridiculous then to
think that a pers on wis hes to learn one thing,and will learn another; or further,
that a man will make proficiencyin that which he does not learn. But the many are
deceived by this which deceived als o the rhetorician Theopompus , when he blames even
Plato for wis hing everything to be defined. For what does he s ay? "D idnone of us
before you us e the words 'good' or 'jus t,' or do we utterthe s ounds in an unmeaning
and empty way without unders tanding whatthey s everally s ignify?" Now who tells you,
Theopompus , that we hadnot natural notions of each of thes e things and
preconceptions ? But itis not pos s ible to adapt preconceptions to their
corres pondent objects if we have not dis tinguis hed them, and inquired what object
mus t bes ubjected to each preconception. You may make the s ame chargeagains t
phys icians als o. For who among us did not us e the words "healthy" and "unhealthy"
before Hippocrates lived, or did we utterthes e words as empty s ounds ? For we have
als o a certainpreconception of health, but we are not able to adapt it. For this
reas on one s ays , "Abs tain from food"; another s ays , "Give food";another s ays ,
"Bleed"; and another s ays , "Us e cupping." What is thereas on? is it any other than
that a man cannot properly adapt thepreconception of health to particulars ? So it
is in this matter als o, in the things which concern life.Who among us does not
s peak of good and bad, of us eful and not us eful;for who among us has not a
preconception of each of thes e things ? Is it then a dis tinct and perfect
preconception? Show this . How s hall Is how this ? Adapt the preconception properly to
the particularthings . Plato, for ins tance, s ubjects definitions to the
preconceptionof the us eful, but you to the preconception of the us eles s . Is it
pos s ible then that both of you are right? How is it pos s ible? D oes notone man adapt
the preconception of good to the matter of wealth, andanother not to wealth, but to
the matter of pleas ure and to that ofhealth? For, generally, if all of us who us e
thos e words knows ufficiently each of them, and need no diligence in res olving, the
notions of the preconceptions , why do we differ, why do we quarrel,why do we blame
one another? And why do I now allege this contention with one another and s peakof
it? If you yours elf properly adapt your preconceptions , why are youunhappy, why are
you hindered? Let us omit at pres ent the s econd topicabout the purs uits and the
s tudy of the duties which relate to them.Let us omit als o the third topic, which
relates to the as s ents : I giveup to you thes e two topics . Let us ins is t upon the
firs t, whichpres ents an almos t obvious demons tration that we do not properly adapt
the preconceptions . D o you now des ire that which is pos s ible andthat which is
pos s ible to you? Why then are you hindered? why areyou unhappy? D o you not now try
to avoid the unavoidable? Why thendo you fall in with anything which you would
avoid? Why are youunfortunate? Why, when you des ire a thing, does it not happen,
and,when you do not des ire it, does it happen? For this is the greates tproof of
unhappines s and mis ery: "I wis h for s omething, and it does not happen." And what is
more wretched than I? It was becaus e s he could not endure this that Medea came to
murderher children: an act of a noble s pirit in this view at leas t, fors he had a
jus t opinion what it is for a thing not to s ucceed which apers on wis hes . Then s he
s ays , "Thus I s hall be avenged on him whohas wronged and ins ulted me; and what
s hall I gain if he is punis hedthus ? how then s hall it be done? I s hall kill my
children, but I s hallpunis h mys elf als o: and what do I care?" This is the
aberration ofs oul which pos s es s es great energy. For s he did not know wherein lies
the doing of that which we wis h; that you cannot get this fromwithout, nor yet by
the alteration
and new adaptation of things . D onot des ire the man, and nothing which you des ire
will fall tohappen: do not obs tinately des ire that he s hall live with you: donot
des ire to remain in Corinth; and, in a word, des ire nothing thanthat which God
wills . And who s hall hinder you? who s hall compelyou? No man s hall compel you any
more than he s hall compel Zeus . When you have s uch a guide, and your wis hes and
des ires are the s ameas his , why do you fear dis appointment? Give up your des ire to
wealth and your avers ion to poverty, and you will be dis appointed inthe one, you
will fall into the other. Well, give them up to health,and you will be unfortunate:
give them up to magis tracies , honours ,country, friends , children, in a word to any
of the things which arenot in man's power. But give them up to Zeus and to the res t
of thegods ; s urrender them to the gods , let the gods govern, let your des ireand
avers ion be ranged on the s ide of the gods , and wherein will yoube any longer
unhappy? But if, lazy wretch, you envy, and complain,and are jealous , and fear, and
never ceas e for a s ingle daycomplaining both of yours elf and of the gods , why do
you s till s peakof being educated? What kind of an education, man? D o you mean that
you have been employed about s ophis tical s yllogis ms ? Will you not,if it is
pos s ible, unlearn all thes e things and begin from thebeginning, and s ee at the s ame
time that hitherto you have not eventouched the matter; and then, commencing from
this foundation, willyou not build up all that comes after, s o that nothing, may
happenwhich you do not choos e, and nothing s hall fail to happen which you dochoos e?
Give me one young man who has come to the s chool with this intention, who is become
a champion for this matter and s ays , "Igive up everything els e, and it is enough
for me if "t s hall ever bein my power to pas s my life free from hindrance and free
from trouble,and to s tretch out my neck to all things like a free man, and tolook
up to heaven as a friend of God, and fear nothing that canhappen." Let any of you
point out s uch a man that I may "Come, youngman, into the pos s es s ion of that which
is your own, it is your des tinyto adorn philos ophy: yours are thes e pos s es s ions ,
yours thes e books ,yours thes e dis cours es ." Then when he s hall have laboured
s ufficientlyand exercis ed hims elf in this of the matter, let him come to meagain
and s ay, "I des ire to be free from pas s ion and free fromperturbation; and I wis h as
a pious man and a philos opher and adiligent pers on to know what is my duty to the
gods , what to myparents , what to my brothers , what to my country, what to
s trangers ." Come als o to the s econd matter: this als o is yours . "But Ihave now
s ufficiently s tudied the s econd part als o, and I would gladlybe s ecure and
uns haken, and not only when I am awake, but als o whenI am as leep, and when I am
filled with wine, and when I ammelancholy." Man, you are a god, you have great
des igns . "No: but I wis h to unders tand what Chrys ippus s ays in his treatis eof the
Ps eudomenos ." Will you not hang yours elf, wretch, with s uchyour intention? And what
good will it do you? You will read thewhole with s orrow, and you will s peak to
others trembling, Thus youals o do. "D o you wis h me, brother, to read to you, and
you to me?""You write excellently, my man; and you als o excellently in thes tyle of
Xenophon, and you in the s tyle of Plato, and you in the s tyleof Antis thenes ." Then,
having told your dreams to one another, youreturn to the s ame things : your des ires
are the s ame, your avers ions the s ame, your purs uits are the s ame, and your des igns
and purpos es ,you wis h for the s ame things and work for the s ame. In the nextplace
you do not even s eek for one to give you advice, but you arevexed if you hear s uch
things . Then you s ay, "An ill-natured oldfellow: when I was going away, he did not
weep nor did he s ay, 'Intowhat danger you are going: if you come off s afe, my
child, I will burnlights .' This is what a good-natured man would do." It will be a
greatthing for you if you do return s afe, and it will be worth while toburn lights
for s uch a pers on: for you ought to be immortal and exemptfrom dis eas e. Cas ting
away then, as I s ay, this conceit of thinking that we knows omething us eful, we I I
mus t come to philos ophy as we apply togeometry, and to mus ic: but if we do not, we
s hall not even approachto proficiency, though we read all the collections and
commentaries ofChrys ippus and thos e of Antipater and Archedemus . CHAPTER 18 How
we s hould s truggle agains t appearances Every habit and faculty is maintained and
increas ed by thecorres ponding actions : the habit of walking by walking, the habit
ofrunning by running. If you would be a good reader, read; if awriter, write. But
when you s hall not have read thirty days ins ucces s ion, but have done s omething
els e, you will know thecons equence. In the s ame way, if you s hall have lain down
ten days ,get up and attempt to make a long walk, and you will s ee how your legs are
weakened. Generally, then, if you would make anything a habit,do it; if you would
not make it a habit, do not do it, but accus tomyours elf to do s omething els e in
place of it. So it is with res pect to the affections of the s oul: when you have
been angry, you mus t know that not only has this evil befallen you,but that you
have als o increas ed the habit, and in a manner thrownfuel upon fire. When you have
been overcome in s exual intercours e witha pers on, do not reckon this s ingle defeat
only, but reckon that youhave als o nurtured, increas ed your incontinence. For it is
impos s ible for habits and faculties , s ome of them not to beproduced, when they did
not exis t before, and others not beincreas ed and s trengthened by corres ponding
acts . In this manner certainly, as philos ophers s ay, als o dis eas es ofthe mind grow
up. For when you have once des ired money, if reas on beapplied to lead to a
perception of the evil, the des ire is s topped,and the ruling faculty of our mind is
res tored to the originalauthority. But if you apply no means of cure, it no longer
returns to the s ame s tate, but, being again excited by the corres pondingappearance,
it is inflamed to des ire quicker than before: and whenthis takes place continually,
it is henceforth hardened, and thedis eas e of the mind confirms the love of money.
For he who has had afever, and has been relieved from it, is not in the s ame s tate
that hewas before, unles s he has been completely cured. Something of the kind
happens als o in dis eas es of the s oul. Certain traces and blis ters are left in it,
and unles s a man s hall completely efface them, when heis again las hed on the s ame
places , the las h will produce not blis ters but s ores . If then you wis h not to be of
an angry temper, do notfeed the habit; throw nothing on it which will increas e it:
at firs tkeep quiet, and count the days on which you have not been angry. Ius ed to
be in pas s ion every day; now every s econd day; then everythird, then every fourth.
But if you have intermitted thirty days ,make a s acrifice to God. For the habit at
firs t begins to be weakened,and then is completely des troyed. "I have not been
vexed to-day, northe day after, nor yet on any s ucceeding day during two or three
months ; but I took care when s ome exciting things happened." Beas s ured that you are
in a good way. To-day when I s aw a hands omepers on, I did not s ay to mys elf, "I wis h
I could lie with her," and"Happy is her hus band"; for he who s ays this s ays , "Happy
is heradulterer als o." Nor do I picture the res t to my mind; the womanpres ent, and
s tripping hers elf and lying down by my s ide. I s trokemy head and s ay, "Well done,
Epictetus , you have s olved a finelittle s ophis m, much finer than that which is
called the mas ters ophis m." And if even the woman is willing, and gives s igns , and
s ends mes s ages , and if s he als o fondle me and come clos e to me, and I s houldabs tain
and be victorious , that would be a s ophis m beyond that whichis named "The Liar,"
and "The Quies cent." Over s uch a victory as this a man may jus tly be proud; not for
propos ing, the mas ter s ophis m. How then s hall this be done? Be willing at length
to be approvedby yours elf, be willing to appear beautiful to God, des ire to he in
purity with your own pure s elf and with God. Then when any s uchappearance vis its
you, Plato s ays , "Have recours e to expiations , goa s uppliant to the temples of the
averting deities ." It is evens ufficient if "you res ort to the s ociety of noble and
jus t men," andcompare yours elf with them, whether you find one who is living or
dead. Go to Socrates and s ee him lying down with Alcibiades , andmocking his beauty:
cons ider what a victory he at las t found that hehad gained over hims elf; what an
Olympian victory; in what number hes tood from Hercules ; s o that, by the Gods , one
may jus tly s alutehim, "Hail, wondrous man, you who have conquered not les s thes e
s orry boxers and pancratias ts nor yet thos e who are like them, thegladiators ." By
placing thes e objects on the other s ide you willconquer the appearance: you will
not be drawn away by it. But, inthe firs t place, be not hurried away by the
rapidity of theappearance, but s ay, "Appearances , wait for me a little: let me s ee
who you are, and what you are about: let me put you to the tes t."And then do not
allow the appearance to lead you on and draw livelypictures of the things which
will follow; for if you do, it will carryyou off wherever it pleas es . But rather
bring in to oppos e it s omeother beautiful and noble appearance and cas t out this
bas eappearance. And if you are accus tomed to be exercis ed in this way, youwill s ee
what s houlders , what s inews , what s trength you have. Butnow it is only trifling
words , and nothing more. This is the true athlete, the man who exercis es hims elf
agains t s uchappearances . Stay, wretch, do not be carried
away. Great is thecombat, divine is the work; it is for kings hip, for freedom, for
happines s , for freedom from perturbation. Remember God: call on him as a helper and
protector, as men at s ea call on the D ios curi in a s torm.For what is a greater
s torm than that which comes from appearances which are violent and drive away the
reas on? For the s torm its elf,what els e is it but an appearance? For take away the
fear of death,and s uppos e as many thunders and lightnings as you pleas e, and you
will know what calm and s erenity there is in the ruling faculty. Butif you have
once been defeated and s ay that you will conquerhereafter, then s ay the s ame again,
be as s ured that you at las t bein s o wretched a condition and s o weak that you will
not even knowafterward that you are doing wrong, but you will even begin to make
apologies for your wrongdoing, and then you will confirm the s aying ofHes iod to be
true, With cons tant ills the dilatory s trives . CHAPTER 19 Agains t thos e who
embrace, philos ophical opinions only in words The argument called the "ruling
argument" appears to have beenpropos ed from s uch principles as thes e: there is in
fact a commoncontradiction between one another in thes e three pos itions , each two
being in contradiction to the third. The propos itions are, thateverything pas t mus t
of neces s ity be true; that an impos s ibilitydoes not follow a pos s ibility; and that
thing is pos s ible whichneither is nor t at a t will be true. D iodorus obs erving
this contradiction employed the probative force of the firs t two for the
demons tration of this propos ition, "That nothing is pos s ible whichis not true and
never will be." Now another will hold thes e two: "Thats omething is pos s ible, which
is neither true nor ever will be": and"That an impos s ibility does not follow a
pos s ibility," But he will notallow that everything which is pas t is neces s arily
true, as thefollowers of Cleanthes s eem to think, and Antipater copious ly defended
them. But others maintain the other two propos itions , "That a thing is pos s ible
which is neither true nor will he true": and "That everythingwhich is pas t is
neces s arily true"; but then they will maintain thatan impos s ibility can follow a
pos s ibility. But it is impos s ible tomaintain thes e three propos itions , becaus e of
their commoncontradiction. If then any man s hould as k me which of thes e
propos itions do Imaintain? I will ans wer him that I do not know; but I have
receivedthis s tory, that D iodorus maintained one opinion, the followers of
Panthoides , I think, and Cleanthes maintained another opinion, andthos e of
Chrys ippus a third. "What then is your opinion?" I was notmade for this purpos e, to
examine the appearances that occur to me andto compare what others s ay and to form
an opinion of my own on thething. Therefore I differ not at all from the
grammarian. "Who was Hector's father?" Priam. "Who were his brothers ?" Alexander and
D eiphobus . "Who was their mother?" Hecuba. I have heard this s tory."From whom?"
From Homer. And Hellanicus als o, I think, writes aboutthe s ame things , and perhaps
others like him. And what further haveI about the ruling argument? Nothing. But, if
I am a vain man,es pecially at a banquet, I s urpris e the gues ts by enumerating thos e
who have written on thes e matters . Both Chrys ippus has writtenwonderfully in his
firs t book about "Pos s ibilities ," and Cleanthes has written s pecially on the
s ubject, and Archedemus . Antipater als o has written not only in his work about
"Pos s ibilities ," but als os eparately in his work on the ruling argument. Have you
not read thework? "I have not read it." Read. And what profit will a man have from
it? he will be more trifling and impertinent than he is now; forwhat els e have you
rained by reading it? What opinion have youformed on this s ubject? none; but you
will tell us of Helen and Priam,and the is land of Calyps o which never was and never
will be. And inthis matter indeed it is of no great importance if you retain the
s tory, but have formed no opinion of your own. But in matters ofmorality this
happens to us much more than in thes e things of which weare s peaking. "Speak to me
about good and evil." Lis ten: The wind from Ilium to Ciconian s hores
Brought me."Of things s ome are good, s ome are bad, and others are indifferent.The
good then are the virtues and the things which partake of thevirtues ; the bad are
the vices , and the things which partake ofthem; and the indifferent are the things
which lie between the virtues and the vices , wealth, health, life, death, pleas ure,
pain." Whence doyou know this ? "Hellanicus s ays it in his Egyptian his tory"; for
what difference does it make to s ay this , or to s ay that "D iogenes has it in his
Ethic," or Chrys ippus or Cleanthes ? Have you then examinedany of thes e things and
formed an opinion of your own? Show how youare us ed to behave in a s torm on
s hipboard? D o you remember this divis ion, when the s ail rattles and a man, who knows
nothing oftimes and s eas ons , s tands by you when you are s creaming and s ays ,"Tell
me, I as k you by the Gods , what you were s aying jus t now. Is it a vice to s uffer
s hipwreck: does it participate in vice?" Willyou not take up a s tick and lay it on
his head? What have we to dowith you, man? we are peris hing and you come to mock
us ? But if Caes ars ent for you to ans wer a charge, do you remember the dis tinction?
If, when you are going in, pale and trembling, a pers on s hould come upto you and
s ay, "Why do you tremble, man? what is the matter aboutwhich you are engaged? D oes
Caes ar who s its within give virtue andvice to thos e who go in to him?" You reply,
"Why do you als o mock meand add to my pres ent s orrows ?" Still tell me, philos opher,
tell mewhy you tremble? Is it not death of which you run the ris k, or apris on, or
pain of the body, or banis hment, or dis grace? What els eis there? Is there any vice
or anything which partakes of vice? Whatthen did you us e to s ay of thes e things ?
"What have you to do with me,man? my own evils are enough for me." And you s ay
right. Your ownevils are enough for you, your bas enes s , your cowardice, your
boas tingwhich you s howed when you s at in the s chool. Why did you decorateyours elf
with what belonged to others ? Why did you call yours elf aStoic? Obs erve yours elves
thus in your actions , and you will find to whats ect you belong. You will find that
mos t of you are Epicureans , afew Peripatetics , and thos e feeble. For wherein will
you s how that youreally cons ider virtue equal to everything els e or even s uperior?
But s how me a Stoic, if you can. Where or how? But you can s how mean endles s number
who utter s mall arguments of the Stoics . For dothe s ame pers ons repeat the
Epicurean opinions any wors e? And thePeripatetic, do they not handle them als o with
equal accuracy? whothen is a Stoic? As we call a s tatue Phidiac which is fas hioned
according to the art of Phidias ; s o s how me a man who is fas hionedaccording to the
doctrines which he utters . Show me a man who is s ick and happy, in danger and happy,
dying and happy, in exile andhappy, in dis grace and happy. Show him: I des ire, by
the gods , tos ee a Stoic. You cannot s how me one fas hioned s o; but s how me at leas t
one who is forming, who has s hown a tendency to be a Stoic. D o me this favor: do not
grudge an old man s eeing a s ight which I have not s eenyet. D o you think that you
mus t s how me the Zeus of Phidias or theAthena, a work of ivory and gold? Let any of
you s how me a humans oul ready to think as God does , and not to blame either God or
man,ready not to be dis appointed about anything, not to cons ider hims elfdamaged by
anything, not to be angry, not to be envious , not to bejealous ; and why s hould I
not s ay it direct? des irous from a man tobecome a god, and in this poor mortal body
thinking of his fellows hip with Zeus . Show me the man. But you cannot. Why then do
youdelude yours elves and cheat others ? and why do you put on a guis ewhich does not
belong to you, and walk about being thieves andpilferers of thes e names and things
which do not belong to you? And now I am your teacher, and you are ins tructed in
my s chool.And I have this purpos e, to make you free from res traint,compuls ion,
hindrance, to make you free, pros perous , happy, looking toGod in everything s mall
and great. And you are here to learn andpractice thes e things . Why, then, do you
not finis h the work, if youals o have s uch a purpos e as you ought to have, and if I,
in additionto the purpos e, als o have s uch qualification as I ought to have?What is
that which is wanting? When I s ee an artificer and material byhim, I expect the
work. Here, then, is the artificer, here thematerial; what is it that we want? Is
not the thing, one that can betaught? It is . Is it not then in our power? The only
thing of all thatis in our power. Neither wealth is in our power, nor health, nor
reputation, nor in a word anything els e except the right us e ofappearances . This is
by nature free from res traint, this alone is freefrom impediment. Why then do you
not finis h the work? Tell me thereas on. For it is either through my fault that you
do not finis h it,or through your own fault, or through the nature of the thing. The
thing its elf is pos s ible, and the only thing in our power. Itremains then that the
fault is either in me or in you, or, what is nearer the truth, in both. Well then,
are you willing that we begin atlas t to bring s uch a purpos e into this s chool, and
to take no noticeof the pas t? Let us only make a beginning. Trus t to me, and you
wills ee. CHAPTER 2 0 Agains t the Epicureans and Academics The propos itions which
are true and evident are of neces s ity us edeven by thos e who contradict them: and a
man might perhaps cons ider itto be the greates t proof of a thing being evident that
it is foundto be neces s ary even for him who denies it to make us e
of it at thes ame time. For ins tance, if a man s hould deny that there is anything
univers ally true, it is plain that he mus t make the contradictorynegation, that
nothing is univers ally true. What, wretch, do you notadmit even this ? For what els e
is this than to affirm that whatever is univers ally affirmed is fals e? Again, if a
man s hould come forward ands ay: "Know that there is nothing that can be known, but
all things areincapable of s ure evidence"; or if another s ay, "Believe me and you
will be the better for it, that a man ought not to believeanything"; or again, if
another s hould s ay, "Learn from me, man,that it is not pos s ible to learn anything;
I tell you this and willteach you, if you choos e." Now in what res pect do thes e
differ fromthos e? Whom s hall I name? Thos e who call thems elves Academics ? "Men,
agree that no man agrees : believe us that no man believes anybody." Thus Epicurus
als o, when he des igns to des troy the naturalfellows hip of mankind, at the s ame time
makes us e of that which hedes troys . For what does he s ay? "Be not deceived men, nor
be ledas tray, nor be mis taken: there is no natural fellows hip among rational
animals ; believe me. But thos e who s ay otherwis e, deceive you ands educe you by
fals e reas ons ." What is this to you? Permit us to bedeceived. Will you fare wors e,
if all the res t of us are pers uadedthat there is a natural fellows hip among us , and
that it ought byall means to be pres erved? Nay, it will be much better and s afer
foryou. Man, why do you trouble yours elf about us ? Why do you keepawake for us ? Why
do you light your lamp? Why do you ris e early? Whydo you write s o many books , that
no one of us may be deceived aboutthe gods and believe that they take care of men;
or that no one mays uppos e the nature of good to be other than pleas ure? For if this
is s o, lie down and s leep, and lead the life of a worm, of which youjudged yours elf
worthy: eat and drink, and enjoy women, and eas eyours elf, and s nore. And what is it
to you, how the res t s hall thinkabout thes e things , whether right or wrong? For
what have we to dowith you? You take care of s heep becaus e they s upply us with
wool, andmilk, and, las t of all, with their fles h. Would it not be ades irable thing
if men could be lulled and enchanted by the Stoics ,and s leep and pres ent thems elves
to you and to thos e like you to bes horn and milked? For this you ought to s ay to
your brotherEpicureans : but ought you not to conceal it from others , and
particularly before everything to pers uade them that we are bynature adapted for
fellows hip, that temperance is a good thing; inorder that all things may be s ecured
for you? Or ought we tomaintain this fellows hip with s ome and not with others ? With
whom,then, ought we to maintain it? With s uch as on their part als omaintain it, or
with s uch as violate this fellows hip? And whoviolate it more than you who es tablis h
s uch doctrines ? What then was it that waked Epicurus from his s leepines s , and
compelled him to write what he did write? What els e was it than thatwhich is the
s tronges t thing in men, nature, which draws a man toher own will though he be
unwilling and complaining? "For s ince,"s he s ays , "you think that there is no
community among mankind, writethis opinion and leave it for others , and break your
s leep to do this ,and by your own practice condemn your own opinions ." Shall we then
s aythat Ores tes was agitated by the Erinyes and rous ed from his deeps leep, and did
not more s avage Erinyes and Pains rous e Epicurus fromhis s leep and not allow him to
res t, but compelled him to make knownhis own evils , as madnes s and wine did the
Galli? So s trong andinvincible is man's nature. For how can a vine be moved not in
themariner of a vine, but in the manner of an olive tree? or on the otherhand how
can an olive tree be moved not in the manner of an olivetree, but in the manner of
a vine? It is impos s ible: it cannot beconceived. Neither then is it pos s ible for a
man completely to los ethe movements of a man; and even thos e who are deprived of
theirgenital members are not able to deprive thems elves of man's des ires .Thus
Epicurus als o mutilated all the offices of a man, and of a fatherof a family, and
of a citizen and of a friend, but he did not mutilatehuman des ires , for he could
not; not more than the lazy Academics can cas t away or blind their own s ens es ,
though they have tried withall their might to do it. What a s hame is this ? when a
man has received from nature meas ures and rules for the knowing of truth,and does
not s trive to add to thes e meas ures and rules and toimprove them, but, jus t the
contrary, endeavors to take away anddes troy whatever enables us to dis cern the
truth? What s ay you philos opher? piety and s anctity, what do you think thatthey
are? "If you like, I will demons trate that they are good things ."Well, demons trate
it, that our citizens may be turned and honor thedeity and may no longer be
negligent about things of the highes tvalue. "Have you then the demons trations ?" I
have, and I amthankful. "Since then you are well pleas ed with them, hear the
contrary: 'That there are no Gods , and, if there are, they take nocare of men, nor
is there any fellows hip between us and them; and thatthis piety and s anctity which
is talked of among mos t men is the lyingof boas ters and s ophis ts , or certainly of
legis lators for thepurpos e of terrifying and checking wrong-doers .'" Well done,
philos opher, you have done s omething for our citizens , you havebrought back all the
young men to contempt of things divine. "Whatthen, does not this s atis fy you? Learn
now, that jus tice is nothing,that modes ty is folly, that a father is nothing, a s on
nothing."Well done, philos opher, pers is t, pers uade the young men, that we mayhave
more with the s ame opinions as you who s ay the s ame as you.From s uch you an
principles as thos e have grown our well-cons tituteds tates ; by thes e was Sparta
founded: Lycurgus fixed thes e opinions in the Spartans by his laws and education,
that neither is the s ervilecondition more bas e than honourable, nor the condition
of free menmore honorable than bas e, and that thos e who died at Thermopylaedied
from thes e opinions ; and through what other opinions did theAthenians leave their
city? Then thos e who talk thus , marry andbeget children, and employ thems elves in
public affairs and makethems elves pries ts and interpreters . Of whom? of gods who do
notexis t: and they cons ult the Pythian pries tes s that they may hear lies ,and they
repeat the oracles to others . Mons trous impudence andimpos ture. Man what are you
doing? are you refuting yours elf every day; andwill you not give up thes e frigid
attempts ? When you eat, where do youcarry your hand to? to your mouth or to your
eye? when you was hyours elf, what do you go into? do you ever call a pot a dis h, or
aladle a s pit? If I were a s lave of any of thes e men, even if I mus t beflayed by
him dally, I would rack him. If he s aid, "Boy, throw s omeolive-oil into the bath,"
I would take pickle s auce and pour it downon his head. "What is this ?" he would
s ay. An appearance was pres entedto me, I s wear by your genius , which could not be
dis tinguis hed fromoil and was exactly like it. "Here give me the barley drink," he
s ays .I would fill and carry him a dis h of s harp s auce. "D id I not as k forthe barley
drink?" Yes , mas ter; this is the barley drink. "Take it ands mell; take it and
tas te." How do you know then if our s ens es deceive us ? If I had three or four
fellow-s laves of the s ameopinion, I s hould force him to hang hims elf through
pas s ion or tochange his mind. But now they mock us by us ing all the things which
nature gives , and in words des troying them. Grateful indeed are men and modes t,
who, if they do nothing els e,are daily eating bread and yet are s hameles s enough to
s ay, we donot know if there is a D emeter or her daughter Pers ephone or aPluto; not
to mention that they are enjoying the night and the day,the s eas ons of the year,
and the s tars , and the s ea, and the land, andthe co-operation of mankind, and yet
they are not moved in anydegree by thes e things to turn their attention to them;
but theyonly s eek to belch out their little problem, and when they haveexercis ed
their s tomach to go off to the bath. But what they s halls ay, and about what things
or to what pers ons , and what theirhearers s hall learn from this talk, they care not
even in the leas tdegree, nor do they care if any generous youth after hearing s uch
talks hould s uffer any harm from it, nor after he has s uffered harms hould los e all
the s eeds of his generous nature: nor if we s houldgive an adulterer help toward
being s hameles s in his acts ; nor if apublic peculator s hould lay hold of s ome
cunning excus e from thes edoctrines ; nor if another who neglects his parents s hould
be confirmedin his audacity by this teaching. What then in your opinion is good or
bad? This or that? Why then s hould a man s ay any more in reply to s uchpers ons as
thes e, or give them any reas on or lis ten to any reas ons from them, or try to
convince them? By Zeus one might much s oonerexpect to make certainties change their
mind than thos e who are becomes o deaf and blind to their own evils . CHAPTER 2 1 Of
incons is tency Some things men readily confes s , and other things they do not. Noone
then will confes s that he is a fool or without unders tanding; but,quite the
contrary, you will hear all men s aying, "I wis h that I hadfortune equal to my
unders tanding." But readily confes s that theyare timid, and they s ay: "I am rather
timid, I confes s ; but to otherres pects you will not find me to foolis h." A man will
not readilyconfes s that he is intemperate; and that he is unjus t he will notconfes s
at all. He will by no means confes s that be is envious or abus ybody. Mos t men will
confes s that they are compas s ionate. What thenis the reas on?
The chief thing is incons is tency and confus ion in thethings which relate to good
and evil. But different men have differentreas ons ; and generally what they imagine
to be bas e, they do notconfes s at all. But they s uppos e timidity to be a
characteris tic ofa good dis pos ition, and compas s ion als o; but s illines s to be the
abs olute characteris tic of a s lave. And they do not at all admit thethings which
are offens es agains t s ociety. But in the cas e of mos terrors , for this reas on
chiefly, they are induced to confes s them,becaus e they that there is s omething
involuntary in them as intimidity and compas s ion; and if a man confes s that he is
in anyres pect intemperate, he alleges love as an excus e for what is involuntary. But
men do not imagine injus tice to be at all There is als o in jealous y, as they
s uppos e, s omething involuntary; and for this reas on they confes s to jealous y als o.
Living among s uch men, who are s o confus ed s o ignorant of whatthey s ay, and of
evils which they have or have not, and why theyhave them, or how they s hall be
relieved of them, I think it is worth the trouble for a man to watch cons tantly
"Whether I als o am oneof them, what imagination I have about mys elf, how I conduct
mys elf,whether I conduct mys elf as a prudent man, whether I conduct mys elf as a
temperate man, whether I ever s ay this , that I have been taught tobe prepared for
everything that may happen. Have I thecons cious nes s , which a man who knows nothing
ought to have, that Iknow nothing? D o I go to my teacher as men go to oracles ,
preparedto obey? or do I like a s niveling boy go to my s chool to learn his toryand
unders tand the books which I did not unders tand before, and, if its hould happen s o,
to explain them als o to others ?" Man, you have had afight in the hous e with a poor
s lave, you have turned the familyups ide down, you have frightened the neighbours ,
and you come to me as if you were a wis e man, and you take your s eat and judge how I
haveexplained s ome word, and how I have babbled whatever came into myhead. You come
full of envy, and humbled, becaus e you bring nothingfrom home; and you s it during,
the dis cus s ion thinking of nothing els ethan how your father is dis pos ed toward you
and your brother. "Whatare they s aying about me there? now they think that I am
improving,and are s aying, 'He will return with all knowledge.' I wis h I couldlearn
everything before I return: but much labour is neces s ary, and noone s ends me
anything, and the baths at Nicopolis are dirty;everything is bad at home, and bad
here." Then they s ay, "No one gains any profit from the s chool." Why, whocomes to
the s chool, who comes for the purpos e of being improved?who comes to pres ent his
opinions to he purified? who comes to learnwhat he is in want of? Why do you wonder
then if you carry back fromthe s chool the very things which you bring into it? For
you come notto lay as ide or to correct them or to receive other principles inplace
of them. By no means , nor anything like it. You rather look tothis , whether you
pos s es s already that for which you come. You wis h toprattle about theorems ? What
then? D o you not become greater triflers ?D o not your little theorems give you s ome
opportunity of dis play?You s olve s ophis tical s yllogis ms . D o you not examine the
as s umptions of the s yllogis m named "The Liar"? D o you not examine hypothetical
s yllogis ms ? Why, then, are you s till vexed if you receive the things for which you
come to the s chool? "Yes ; but if my child die or mybrother, or if I mus t die or be
racked, what good will thes e things dome?" Well, did you come for this ? for this do
you s it by my s ide?did you ever for this light your lamp or keep awake? or, when
you wentout to the walking-place, did you ever propos e any appearance that hadbeen
pres ented to you ins tead of a s yllogis m, and did you and yourfriends dis cus s it
together? Where and when? Then you s ay, "Theorems are us eles s ." To whom? To s uch as
make a bad us e of them. Foreyes alves are not us eles s to thos e who us e them as they
ought and whenthey ought. Fomentations are not us eles s . D umb-bells are notus eles s ;
but they are us eles s to s ome, us eful to others . If you as k menow if s yllogis ms are
us eful, I will tell you that they are us eful,and if you choos e, I will prove it.
"How then will they in any waybe us eful to me?" Man, did you as k if they are us eful
to you, or didyou as k generally? Let him who is s uffering from dys entery as k me if
vinegar is us eful: I will s ay that it is us eful. "Will it then beus eful to me?" I
will s ay, "No." Seek firs t for the dis charge to bes topped and the ulcers to be
clos ed. And do you, O men, firs t cure theulcers and s top the dis charge; be tranquil
in your mind, bring it freefrom dis traction into the s chool, and you will know what
powerreas on has . CHAPTER 2 2 On friends hip What a man applies hims elf to
earnes tly, that he naturally loves . D omen then apply thems elves earnes tly to the
things which are bad? By nomeans . Well, do they apply thems elves to things which in
no wayconcern thems elves ? Not to thes e either. It remains , then, that theyemploy
thems elves earnes tly only about things which are good; and ifthey are earnes tly
employed about things , they love s uch things als o. Whoever, then, unders tands what
is good, can als o know how tolove; but he who cannot dis tinguis h good from bad, and
things whichare neither good nor bad from both, can he pos s es s the power ofloving?
To love, then, is only in the power of the wis e. "How is this ?" a man may s ay; am
foolis h, and yet love my child."I am s urpris ed indeed that you have begun by making
the admis s ion thatyou are foolis h. For what are you deficient in? Can you not make
us eof your s ens es ? do you not dis tinguis h appearances ? do you not us efood which is
s uitable for your body, and clothing and habitation? Whythen do you admit that you
are foolis h? It is in truth becaus e you areoften dis turbed by appearances and
perplexed, and their power ofpers uas ion often conquers you; and s ometimes you think
thes e things tobe good, and then the s ame things to be bad, and las tly neither good
nor bad; and in s hort you grieve, fear, envy, are dis turbed, you arechanged. This
is the reas on why you confes s that you are foolis h.And are you not changeable in
love? But wealth, and pleas ure and, in aword, things thems elves , do you s ometimes
think them to he good ands ometimes bad? and do you not think the s ame men at one
time to begood, at another time bad? and have you not at one time a friendlyfeeling
toward them and at another time the feeling of an enemy? anddo you not at one time
prais e them and at another time blame them?"Yes ; I have thes e feelings als o." Well
then, do you think that he whohas been deceived about a man is his friend?
"Certainly not." And hewho has s elected a man as his friend and is of a changeable
dis pos ition, has he good-will toward him? "He has not." And he who nowabus es a man,
and afterward admires him? "This man als o has nogood-will to the other." Well then,
did you never s ee little dogs cares s ing and playing with one another, s o that you
might s ay there is nothing more friendly? but, that you may know what friends hip is ,
throw a bit of fles h among them, and you will learn. Throw betweenyours elf and your
s on a little es tate, and you will know how s oon hewill wis h to bury you and how
s oon you wis h your s on to die. Thenyou will change your tone and s ay, "What a s on I
have brought up! Hehas long been wis hing to bury me." Throw a s mart girl between
you; anddo you, the old man, love her, and the young one will love her too, Ifa
little fame intervene, or dangers , it will be jus t the s ame. Youwill utter the
words of the father of Admetus ! Life gives you pleas ure: and why not your
father.D o you think that Admetus did not love his own child when he was little? that
he was not in agony when the child had a fever? that hedid not often s ay, "I wis h I
had the fever ins tead of the child?" thenwhen the tes t (the thing) came and was
near, s ee what words theyutter. Were not Eteocles and Polynices from the s ame
mother and fromthe s ame father? Were they not brought up together, had they not
livedtogether, drunk together, s lept together, and often kis s ed oneanother? So
that, if any man, I think, had s een them, he would haveridiculed the philos ophers
for the paradoxes which they utter aboutfriends hip. But when a quarrel ros e between
them about the royalpower, as between dogs about a bit of meat, s ee what they s ay,
Polynices : Where will you take your s tation before the towers ? Eteocles : Why do
you as k me this ? Pol. I place mys elf oppos ite and try to kill you. Et. I als o
wis h to do the s ame.Such are the wis hes that they utter. For univers ally, be not
deceived, every animal is attached tonothing s o much as to its own interes t.
Whatever then appears to it animpediment to this interes t, whether this be a
brother, or a father,or a child, or beloved, or lover, it hates , s purns , curs es :
for its nature is to love nothing s o much as its own interes t; this is father,and
brother and kins man, and country, and God. When, then, the gods appear to us to be
an impediment to this , we abus e them and throw downtheir s tatues and burn their
temples , as Alexander ordered the temples of AEs culapius to be burned when his dear
friend died. For this reas on if a man put in the s ame place his interes t,s anctity,
goodnes s , and country, and parents , and friends , all thes eare s ecured: but if he
puts in one place his interes t, in anotherhis friends , and his country and his
kins men and jus tice its elf, allthes e give way being borne down by the weight of
interes t. For wherethe "I" and the "Mine" are placed, to that place of neces s ity
theanimal inclines : if in the fles h, there is the ruling power: if in thewill, it
is there: and if it is in externals , it is there.
If then Iam there where my will is , then only s hall I be a friend s uch as Iought
to be, and s on, and father; for this will he my interes t, tomaintain the character
of fidelity, of modes ty, of patience, ofabs tinence, of active cooperation, of
obs erving my relations . But if Iput mys elf in one place, and hones ty in another,
then the doctrineof Epicurus becomes s trong, which as s erts either that there is no
hones ty or it is that which opinion holds to be hones t. It was through this
ignorance that the Athenians and theLacedaemonians quarreled, and the Thebans with
both; and the greatking quarreled with Hellas , and the Macedonians with both; and
theRomans with the Getae. And s till earlier the Trojan war happened forthes e
reas ons . Alexander was the gues t of Menelaus ; and if any man hads een their friendly
dis pos ition, he would not have believed any onewho s aid that they were not friends .
But there was cas t between them abit of meat, a hands ome woman, and about her war
aros e. And now whenyou s ee brothers to be friends appearing to have one mind, do
notconclude from this anything about their friends hip, not even if theys ay it and
s wear that it is impos s ible for them to be s eparated fromone another. For the
ruling principle of a bad man cannot betrus ted, it is ins ecure, has no certain rule
by which it is directed, and is overpowered at different times by different
appearances . But examine, not what other men examine, if they are bornof the s ame
parents and brought up together, and under the s amepedagogue; but examine this
only, wherein they place their interes t,whether in externals or in the will. If in
externals , do not name themfriends , no more than name them trus tworthy or cons tant,
or brave orfree: do not name them even men, if you have any judgment. For that is
not a principle of human nature which makes them bite one another, andabus e one
another, and occupy des erted places or public places , as if they were mountains , and
in the courts of jus tice dis play theacts of robbers ; nor yet that which makes them
intemperate andadulterers and corrupters , nor that which makes them do whateverels e
men do agains t one another through this one opinion only, that ofplacing thems elves
and their interes ts in the things which are notwithin the power of their will. But
if you hear that in truth thes emen think the good to be only there, where will is ,
and where there is a right us e of appearances , no longer trouble yours elf whether
theyare father or s on, or brothers , or have as s ociated a long time and are
companions , but when you have as certained this only, confidentlydeclare that they
are friends , as you declare that they arefaithful, that they are jus t. For where
els e is friends hip thanwhere there is fidelity, and modes ty, where there is a
communion ofhones t things and of nothing els e? "But," you may s ay, "s uch a one
treated me with regard s o long;and did he not love me?" How do you know, s lave, if
he did notregard you in the s ame way as he wipes his s hoes with a s ponge, oras he
takes care of his beas t? How do you know, when you have ceas edto be us eful as a
ves s el, he will not throw you away like a brokenplatter? "But this woman is my
wife, and we have lived together s olong." And how long did Eriphyle live with
Amphiaraus , and was themother of children and of many? But a necklace came between
them. "Andwhat is a necklace?" It is the opinion about s uch things . That was the
bes tial principle, that was the thing which broke as under thefriends hip between
hus band and wife, that which did not allow thewoman to be a wife nor the mother to
be a mother. And let every manamong you who has s erious ly res olved either to be a
friend hims elfor to have another for his friend, cut out thes e opinions , hatethem,
drive them from his s oul. And thus , firs t of all, he will notreproach hims elf, he
will not be at variance with hims elf, will notchange his mind, he will not torture
hims elf. In the next place, toanother als o, who is like hims elf, he will be
altogether andcompletely a friend. But he will bear with the man who is unlike
hims elf, he will be kind to him, gentle, ready to pardon on account ofhis
ignorance, on account of his being mis taken in things of thegreates t importance;
but he will be hars h to no man, being wellconvinced of Plato's doctrine that every
mind is deprived of truthunwillingly. If you cannot do this , yet you can do in all
otherres pects as friends do, drink together, and lodge together, and s ailtogether,
and you may be born of the s ame parents ; for s nakes als oare: but neither will they
be friends nor you, s o long as you retainthes e bes tial and curs ed opinions .
CHAPTER 2 3 On the power of s peaking Every man will read a book with more pleas ure
or even with morecas e, if it is written in fairer characters . Therefore every man
will als o lis ten more readily to what is s poken, if it is s ignified byappropriate
and becoming words . We mus t not s ay, then, that there is no faculty of expres s ion:
for this affirmation is the characteris ticof an impious and als o of a timid man. Of
an impious man, becaus e heundervalues the gifts which come from God, jus t as if he
would takeaway the commodity of the power of vis ion, or of hearing, or ofs eeing.
Has , then, God given you eyes to no purpos e? and to no purpos ehas he infus ed into
them a s pirit s o s trong and of s uch s killfulcontrivance as to reach a long way and
to fas hion the forms ofthings which are s een? What mes s enger is s o s wift and
vigilant? And tono purpos e has he made the interjacent atmos phere s o efficacious
andelas tic that the vis ion penetrates through the atmos phere which is in a manner
moved? And to no purpos e has he made light, without thepres ence of which there
would be no us e in any other thing? Man, be neither ungrateful for thes e gifts nor
yet forget the things which are s uperior to them. But indeed for the power of s eeing
andhearing, and indeed for life its elf, and for the things whichcontribute to
s upport it, for the fruits which are dry, and for wineand oil give thanks to God:
but remember that he has given yous omething els e better than all thes e, I mean the
power of us ingthem, proving them and es timating the value of each. For what is that
which gives information about each of thes e powers , what eachof them is worth? Is
it each faculty its elf? D id you ever hear thefaculty of vis ion s aying anything
about its elf? or the faculty ofhearing? or wheat, or barley, or a hors e or a dog?
No; but they areappointed as minis ters and s laves to s erve the faculty which has
thepower of making us e of the appearances of things . And if you inquirewhat is the
value of each thing, of whom do you inquire? who ans wers you? How then can any other
faculty be more powerful than this ,which us es the res t as minis ters and its elf
proves each and pronounces about them? for which of them knows what its elf is , and
what is its own value? which of them knows when it ought to employ its elf and when
not? what faculty is it which opens and clos es the eyes , and turns them away from
objects to which it ought not to apply them and does apply them to other objects ? Is
it the faculty of vis ion? No; but itis the faculty of the will. What is that
faculty which clos es andopens the ears ? what is that by which they are curious and
inquis itive, or, on the contrary, unmoved by what is s aid? is it thefaculty of
hearing? It is no other than the faculty of the will.Will this faculty then, s eeing
that it is amid all the other faculties which are blind and dumb and unable to s ee
anything els e except thevery acts for which they are appointed in order to minis ter
to this and s erve it, but this faculty alone s ees s harp and s ees what is thevalue of
each of the res t; will this faculty declare to us thatanything els e is the bes t, or
that its elf is ? And what els e does thedo when it is opened than s ee? But whether we
ought to look on thewife of a certain pers on, and in what manner, who tells us ? The
faculty of the will. And whether we ought to believe what is s aid ornot to believe
it, and if we do believe, whether we ought to bemoved by it or not, who tells us ?
Is it not the faculty of the will?But this faculty of s peaking and of ornamenting
words , if there is indeed any s uch peculiar faculty, what els e does it do, when
therehappens to be dis cours e about a thing, than to ornament the words and arrange
them as hairdres s ers do the hair? But whether it is betterto s peak or to be s ilent,
and better to s peak in this way or that way,and whether this is becoming or not
becoming and the s eas on for eachand the and the us e, what els e tells us than the
faculty of thewill? Would you have it then to come forward and condemn its elf?
"What then," it s ays , "if the fact is s o, can that which minis ters be s uperior to
that to which it minis ters , can the hors e be s uperiorto the rider, or the do, to
the hunts man, or the ins trument to themus ician, or the s ervants to the king?" What
is that which makes us eof the res t? The will. What takes care of all? The will.
What des troys the whole man, at one time by hunger, at another time by hanging,and
at another time by a precipice? The will. Then is anythings tronger in men than
this ? and how is it pos s ible that the things which are s ubject to res traint are
s tronger than that which is notWhat things are naturally formed to hinder the
faculty of vis ion? Bothwill and things which do not depend on the faculty of the
will. Itis the s ame with the faculty of hearing, with the faculty ofs peaking in
like manner. But what has a natural power of hindering thewill? Nothing which is
independent of the will; but only the willits elf, when it is perverted. Therefore
this is alone vice or alonevirtue. Then being s o great a faculty and s et over all
the res t, let it comeforward and tell us that the mos t excellent of all things
is thefles h. Not even if the fles h its elf declared that it is the mos texcellent,
would any pers on bear that it s hould s ay this . But whatis it, Epicurus , which
pronounces this , which wrote about "The Endof our Being," which wrote on "The
Nature of Things ," which wroteabout the Canon, which led you to wear a beard, which
wrote when itwas dying that it was s pending the las t and a happy day? Was this the
fles h or the will? Then do you admit that you pos s es s anythings uperior to this ? and
are you not mad? are you in fact s o blind anddeaf? What then? D oes any man des pis e
the other faculties I hope not. D oes any man s ay that there is no us e or excellence
in the s peakingfaculty? I hope not. That would be foolis h, impious , ungrateful
towardGod. But a man renders to each thing its due value. For there is s ome us e even
in an as s , but not s o much as in an ox: there is als ous e in a dog, but not s o much
as in a s lave: there is als o s ome us e ina s lave, but not s o much as in citizens :
there is als o s ome us e incitizens , but riot s o much as in magis trates . Not, indeed,
becaus es ome things are s uperior, mus t we undervalue the us e which otherthings have.
There is a certain value in the power of s peaking, but itis not s o great as the
power of the will. When, then, I s peak thus ,let no man think that I as k you to
neglect the power of s peaking,for neither do I as k you to neglect the eyes , nor the
ears nor thehands nor the feet nor clothing nor s hoes . But if you as k me, "What,
then, is the mos t excellent of all things ?" what mus t I s ay? Icannot s ay the power
of s peaking, but the power of the will, when itis right. For it is this which us es
the other, and all the otherfaculties both s mall and great. For when this faculty
of the will is s et right, a man who is not good becomes good: but when it falls , a
man becomes bad. It is through this that we are unfortunate, that weare fortunate,
that we blame one another, are pleas ed with oneanother. In a word, it is this which
if neglect it makes unhappines s , and if we carefully look after it makes happines s .
But to take away the faculty of s peaking, and to s ay that there is no s uch faculty
in reality, is the act not only of an ungrateful mantoward thos e who gave it, but
als o of a cowardly man: for s uch apers on s eems to me to fear if there is any
faculty of this kind,that we s hall not be able to des pis e it. Such als o are thos e
who s aythat there is no difference between beauty and uglines s . Then it wouldhappen
that a man would be affected in the s ame way if he s awThers ites and if he s aw
Achilles ; in the s ame way, if he s aw Helen andany other woman. But thes e are
foolis h and clownis h notions , and thenotions of men who know not the nature of each
thing, but areafraid, if a man s hall s ee the difference, that he s hall immediately
be s eized and carried off vanquis hed. But this is the great matter; toleave to each
thing the power which it has , and leaving to it this power to s ee what is the worth
of the power, and to learn what is the mos t excellent of all things , and to purs ue
this always , to bediligent about this , cons idering t all other things of s econdary
valuecompared with this , but yet, as far as we can, not neglecting allthos e other
things . For we mus t take care of the eyes als o, not as if they were the mos t
excellent thing, but we mus t take care of themon account of the mos t excellent
thing, becaus e it will not be inits true natural condition, if it does not rightly
us e the otherfaculties , and prefer s ome things to others . What then is us ually
done? Men generally act as a traveler woulddo on his way to his own country, when
he enters a good inn, and beingpleas ed with it s hould remain there. Man, you have
forgotten yourpurpos e: you were not traveling to this inn, but you were pas s
throughit. "But this is a pleas ant inn." And how many other inns arepleas ant? and
how many meadows are pleas ant? yet only pas s ing through.But your purpos e is this ,
return to your country, to relieve yourkins men of anxiety, to dis charge the duties
of a citizen, to marry, tobeget children, to fill the us ual magis tracies . For you
are not cometo s elect more pleas ant places , but to live in thes e where you wereborn
and of which you were made a citizen. Something of the kind takes place in the
matter which we are cons idering. Since, by the aid ofs peech and s uch communication
as you receive here, you mus t advance toperfection, and purge your will, and
correct the faculty which makes us e of the appearances of things ; and s ince it is
neces s ary als o forthe teaching of theorems to be effected by a certain mode of
expres s ion and with a certain variety and s harpnes s , s ome pers ons captivated by
thes e very things abide in them, one captivated by theexpres s ion, another by
s yllogis ms , another again by s ophis ms , ands till another by s ome other inn of the
kind; and there they s tay andwas te away as if they were among Sirens . Man, your
purpos e was to make yours elf capable of us ingconformably to nature the appearances
pres ented to you, in yourdes ires not to be frus trated, in your avers ion from things
not to fallinto that which you would avoid, never to have no luck, nor ever tohave
bad luck, to be free, not hindered, not compelled, conformingyours elf to the
adminis tration of Zeus , obeying it, well s atis fiedwith this , blaming no one,
charging no one with fault, able fromyour whole s oul to utter thes e vers es :
"Lead me, O Zeus , and thou, too, D es tiny."Then having this purpos e before you, if
s ome little form of expres s ionpleas es you, if s ome theorems pleas e you, do you
abide among themand choos e t dwell o well there, forgetting the things at home, and
doyou s ay, "Thes e things are fine"? Who s ays that they are not fine? butonly as
being a way home, as inns are. For what hinders you from beingan unfortunate man,
even if you s peak like D emos thenes ? and whatprevents you, if you can res olve
s yllogis ms like Chrys ippus , frombeing wretched, from s orrowing, from envying, in a
word, from beingdis turbed, from being unhappy? Nothing. You s ee then that thes e
wereinns , worth nothing; and that the purpos e before you was s omethingels e. When I
s peak thus to s ome pers ons , they think that I amrejecting care about s peaking, or
care about theorems . I am notrejecting this care, but I am rejecting the abiding
about thes e things inces s antly and putting our hopes in them. If a man by this
teachingdoes harm to thos e who lis ten to him, reckon me too among thos e who dothis
harm: for I am not able, when I s ee one thing which is mos texcellent and s upreme,
to s ay that another is s o, in order to pleas eyou. CHAPTER 2 4 To a pers on who was
one of thos e who was not valued by him A certain pers on s aid to him: "Frequently I
des ired to hear youand came to you, and you never gave me any ans wer: and now, if
it is pos s ible, I entreat you to s ay s omething to me." D o you think, s aidEpictetus ,
that as there is an art in anything els e, s o there is als o an art in s peaking, and
that he who has the art, will s peaks killfully, and he who has not, will s peak
uns killfully? "I do thinks o." He, then, who by s peaking receives benefit hims elf
and is able tobenefit others , will s peak s killfully: but he who is rather damaged
bys peaking and does damage to others , will he be uns killed in this artof s peaking?
And you may find that s ome are damaged and others benefited by s peaking. And are all
who hear benefited by what theyhear? Or will you find that among them als o s ome are
benefited ands ome damaged? "There are both among thes e als o," he s aid. In this cas e
als o, then, thos e who hear s killfully are benefited, and thos e whohear uns killfully
are damaged? He admitted this . Is there then a s killin hearing als o, as there is in
s peaking? "It s eems s o." If youchoos e, cons ider the matter in this way als o. The
practice of mus ic,to whom does it belong? "To a mus ician." And the proper making of
as tatue, to whom do you think that it belongs ? "To a s tatuary." And thelooking at a
s tatue s killfully, does this appear to you to require theaid of no art? "This als o
requires the aid of art." Then if s peakingproperly is the bus ines s of the s killful
man, do you s ee that tohear als o with benefit is the bus ines s of the s killful man?
Now as to s peaking and hearing perfectly, and us efully, let us for thepres ent, if
you pleas e, s ay no more, for both of us are a long wayfrom everything of the kind.
But I think that every man will allowthis , that he who is going to hear
philos ophers requires s ome amountof practice in hearing. Is it not s o? Tell me
then about what I s hould talk to you: about what matterare you able to lis ten?
"About good and evil." Good and evil inwhat? In a hors e? "No." Well, in an ox?
"No." What then? In a man?"Yes ." D o know then what a man is , what the notion is
that we haveof him, or have we our ears in any degree practiced about this matter?
But do you unders tand what nature is ? or can you even in any degreeunders tand me
when I s ay, "I s hall us e demons tration to you?" How?D o you unders tand this very
thing, what demons tration is , or howanything is demons trated, or by what means ; or
what things are likedemons tration, but are not demons tration? D o you know what is
trueor what is fals e? What is cons equent on a thing, what is repugnantto a thing,
or not cons is tent, or incons is tent? But mus t I exciteyou to philos ophy, and how?
Shall I s how to you the repugnance inthe opinions of mos t men, through which they
differ about things good and evil, and about things which are profitable and
unprofitable,when you know not this very thing, what repugnance is ? Show me then
what I s hall accomplis h by dis cours ing with you; excite my inclinationto do this .
As the gras s which is s uitable, when it is pres ented toa s heep, moves its
inclination to eat, but if you pres ent to it as tone or bread, it will
not be moved to eat; s o there are in us certain natural inclinations als o to s peak,
when the hearer s hallappear to be s omebody, when he hims elf s hall excite us : but
when hes hall s it by us like a s tone or like gras s , how can he excite aman's des ire?
D oes the vine s ay to the hus bandman, "Take care ofme?" No, but the vine by s howing
in its elf that it will beprofitable to the hus bandman, if he does take care of it,
invites him to exercis e care. When children are attractive and lively, whom dothey
not invite to play with them, and crawl with them, and lis pwith them? But who is
eager to play with an as s or to bray with it?for though it is s mall, it is s till a
little as s . "Why then do you s ay nothing to me?" I can only s ay this to you,that
he who knows not who he is , and for what purpos e he exis ts , andwhat is this world,
and with whom he is as s ociated, and what things are the good and the bad, and the
beautiful and the ugly, and whoneither unders tands dis cours e nor demons tration, nor
what is truenor what is fals e, and who is not able to dis tinguis h them, willneither
des ire according to nature, nor turn away, nor move upward,nor intend, nor as s ent,
nor dis s ent, nor s us pend his judgment: tos ay all in a few words , he will go about
dumb and blind, thinking thathe is s omebody, but being nobody. Is this s o now for
the firs t time?Is it not the fact that, ever s ince the human race exis ted, all
errors and mis fortunes have aris en through this ignorance? Why didAgamemnon and
Achilles quarrel with one another? Was it not throughnot knowing what things are
profitable and not profitable? D oes notthe one s ay it is profitable to res tore
Chrys eis to her father, anddoes not the other s ay that it is not profitable? does
not the one s aythat he ought to take the prize of another, and does not the other
s aythat he ought not? D id they not for thes e reas ons forget both who theywere and
for what purpos e they had come there? Oh, man, for whatpurpos e did you come? to
gain mis tres s es or to fight? "To fight." Withwhom? the Trojans or the Hellenes ?
"With the Trojans ." D o you thenleave Hector alone and draw your s word agains t your
own king? And doyou, mos t excellent Sir, neglect the duties of the king, you who
arethe people's guardian and have s uch cares ; and are you quarrelingabout a little
girl with the mos t warlike of your allies , whom youought by every means to take
care of and protect? and do you becomewors e than a well-behaved pries t who treats
you thes e finegladiators with all res pect? D o you s ee what kind of things ignorance
of what is profitable does ? "But I als o am rich." Are you then richer than
Agamemnon? "But Iam als o hands ome." Are you then more hands ome than Achilles ? "But
Ihave als o beautiful hair." But had not Achilles more beautiful hairand gold-
colored? and he did not comb it elegantly nor dres s it."But I am als o s trong." Can
you then lift s o great a s tone as Hectoror Ajax? "But I am als o of noble birth."
Are you the s on of agoddes s mother? are you the s on of a father s prung from Zeus ?
Whatgood then do thes e things do to him, when he s its and weeps for agirl? "But I
am an orator." And was he not? D o you not s ee how hehandled the mos t s killful of
the Hellenes in oratory, Odys s eus andPhoenix? how he s topped their mouths ? This is
all that I have to s ay to you; and I s ay even this notwillingly. "Why?" Becaus e you
have not rous ed me. For what mus t I lookto in order to be rous ed, as men who are
expert in are rous ed bygenerous hors es ? Mus t I look to your body? You treat it
dis gracefully.To your dres s ? That is luxurious . To your behavior to your look?That
is the s ame as nothing. When you would lis ten to a philos opher,do not s ay to him,
"You tell me nothing"; but only s how yours elfworthy of hearing or fit for hearing;
and you will s ee how you willmove the s peaker. CHAPTER 2 5 That logic is neces s ary
When one of thos e who were pres ent s aid, "Pers uade me that logicis neces s ary," he
replied: D o you wis h me to prove this to you? Theans wer was , "Yes ." Then I mus t us e
a demons trative form of s peech.This was granted. How then will you know if I am
cheating you byargument? The man was s ilent. D o you s ee, s aid Epictetus , that you
yours elf are admitting that logic is neces s ary, if without it youcannot know s o
much as this , whether logic is neces s ary or notneces s ary CHAPTER 2 6 What is the
property of error Every error comprehends contradiction: for s ince he who errs
does not wis h to err, but to he right, it is plain that he does not do whathe
wis hes . For what does the thief wis h to do? That which is for his own interes t. If,
then, the theft is not for his interes t, he does notdo that which he wis hes . But
every rational: s oul is by natureoffended at contradiction, and s o long as it does
not unders tandthis contradiction, it is not hindered from doing contradictory
things : but when it does unders tand the contradiction, it mus t ofneces s ity avoid
the contradiction and avoid it as much as a man mus tdis s ent from the fals e when he
s ees that a thing is fals e; but s o longas this fals ehood does not appear to him, he
as s ents to it as totruth. He, then, is s trong in argument and has the faculty of
exhorting andconfuting, who is able to s how to each man the contradiction through
which he errs and clearly to prove how he does not do that which hewis hes and does
that which he does not wis h. For if any one s hall s howthis , a man will hims elf
withdraw from that which he does ; but s o longas you do not s how this , do not be
s urpris ed if a man pers is ts inhis practice; for having the appearance of doing
right, he does whathe does . For this reas on Socrates , als o trus ting to this power,
us edto s ay, "I am us ed to call no other witnes s of what I s ay, but I amalways
s atis fied with him with whom I am dis cus s ing, and I as k himto give his opinion and
call him as a witnes s , and through he is only one, he is s ufficient in the place of
all." For Socrates knewby what the rational s oul is moved, jus t like a pair of
s cales , andthat it mus t incline, whether it choos es or not. Show the rational
governing faculty a contradiction, and it will withdraw from it; butif you do not
s how it, rather blame yours elf than him who is notpers uaded.D ISCOURSES
BOOK THREE CHAPTER 1 Of finery in dres s A certain young man a rhetorician came
to s ee Epictetus , with his hair dres s ed more carefully than was us ual and his attire
in anornamental s tyle; whereupon Epictetus s aid: Tell me you do not thinkthat s ome
dogs are beautiful and s ome hors es , and s o of all otheranimals . "I do think s o,"
the youth replied. Are not then s ome menals o beautiful and others ugly?
"Certainly." D o we, then, for the s amereas on call each of them in the s ame kind
beautiful, or each beautifulfor s omething peculiar? And you will judge of this
matter thus .Since we s ee a dog naturally formed for one thing, and a hors e for
another, and for another s till, as an example, a nightingale, we maygenerally and
not improperly declare each of them to be beautiful thenwhen it is mos t excellent
according to its nature; but s ince thenature of each is different, each of them
s eems to me to bebeautiful in a different way. Is it not s o? He admitted that it
was .That then which makes a dog beautiful, makes a hors e ugly; and thatwhich makes
a hors e beautiful, makes a dog ugly, if it is true thattheir natures are different.
"It s eems to be s o." For I think thatwhat makes a pancratias t beautiful, makes a
wres tler to be not good,and a runner to be mos t ridiculous ; and he who is beautiful
for thePentathlon, is very ugly for wres tling. "It is s o," s aid he. What,then,
makes a man beautiful? Is that which in its kind makes both adog and a hors e
beautiful? "It is ," he s aid. What then makes a dogbeautiful? The pos s es s ion of the
excellence of a dog. And what makes ahors e beautiful? The pos s es s ion of the
excellence of a hors e. Whatthen makes a man beautiful? Is it not the pos s es s ion of
the excellenceof a man? And do you, then, if you wis h to be beautiful, young man,
labour at this , the acquis ition of human excellence. But what is this ?Obs erve whom
you yours elf prais e, when you prais e many pers ons withoutpartiality: do you prais e
the jus t or the unjus t? "The jus t."Whether do you prais e the moderate or the
immoderate? "Themoderate." And the temperate or the intemperate? "The temperate."
If, then, you make yours elf s uch a pers on, you will know that you willmake yours elf
beautiful: but s o long as you neglect thes e things ,you mus t be ugly, even though
you contrive all you can to appearbeautiful. Further I do not know what to s ay to
you: for if I s ay to you what Ithink, I s hall offend you, and you will perhaps
leave the s chool andnot return to it: and if I do not s ay what I think, s ee how I
s hall beacting, if you come to me to be improved, and I s hall not improveyou at
all, and if you come to me as to a philos opher, and I s hall s aynothing to you as a
philos opher. And how cruel it is to you to leaveyou uncorrected. If at any time
afterward you s hall acquire s ens e, youwill with good reas on blame me and s ay, "What
did Epictetus obs erve inme that, when he s aw me in s uch a plight coming to him in
s uch as candalous condition, he neglected me and never s aid a word? did he s omuch
des pair of me? was I not young? was I not able to lis ten toreas on? and how many
other young men at this age commit many likeerrors ? I hear that a certain Polemon
from being a mos t dis s oluteyouth underwent s uch a great change. Well, s uppos e that
he did notthink that I s hould be a Polemon; yet he might have s et my hair right,he
might have s tripped off my decorations , he might have s topped mefrom plucking the
hair out of my body; but when he s aw me dres s edlike- what s hall I s ay?- he kept
s ilent." I do not s ay like what;but
you will s ay, when you come to your s ens es and s hall know whatit is and what
pers ons us e s uch a dres s . If you bring this charge agains t me hereafter, what
defens e s hallI make? Why, s hall I s ay that the man will not be pers uaded by me? Was
Laius pers uaded by Apollo? D id he and get drunk and s how no care forthe oracle?
Well then, for this reas on did Apollo refus e to tell himthe truth? I indeed do not
know, whether you will be pers uaded by meor not; but Apollo knew mos t certainly
that Laius would not bepers uaded and yet he s poke. But why did he s peak? I s ay in
reply:But why is he Apollo, and why does he deliver oracles , and why has he fixed
hims elf in this place as a prophet and s ource of truth andfor the inhabitants of
the world to res ort to him? and why are thewords "Know yours elf" written in front
of the temple, though no pers ontakes any notice of them? D id Socrates pers uade all
his hearers to take care of thems elves ?Not the thous andth part. But, however, after
he had been placed inthis pos ition by the deity, as he hims elf s ays , he never left
it.But what does he s ay even to his judges ? "If you acquit me on thes econditions
that I no longer do that which I do now, I will not cons entand I will not des is t;
but I will go up both to young and to old, and,to s peak plainly, to every man whom
I meet, and I will as k theques tions which I as k now; and mos t particularly will I
do this to youmy fellow-citizens , becaus e you are more nearly related to me." Are
you s o curious , Socrates , and s uch a bus ybody? and how does it concernyou how we
act? and what is it that you s ay? "Being of the s amecommunity and of the s ame kin,
you neglect yours elf, and s how yours elfa bad citizen to the s tate, and a bad
kins man to your kins men, and abad neighbor to your neighbors ." "Who, then are you?"
Here it is agreat thing to s ay, "I am he whos e duty it is to take care of men; for
it is not every little heifer which dares to res is t a lion; but if thebull comes up
and res is ts him, s ay to the bull, if you choos e, 'Andwho are you, and what bus ines s
have you here?'" Man, in every kindthere is produced s omething which excels ; in
oxen, in dogs , in bees ,in hors es . D o not then s ay to that which excels , "Who, then,
are you?"If you do, it will find a voice in s ome way and s ay, "I am s uch athing as
the purple in a garment: do not expect me to be like theothers , or blame my nature
that it has made me different from the res tof men." What then? am I s uch a man?
Certainly not. And are you s uch a man as can lis ten to the truth? I wis h you were.
But however s ince in amanner I have been condemned to wear a white beard and a
cloak, andyou come to me as to a philos opher, I will not treat you in a cruelway
nor yet as if I des paired of you, but I will s ay: Young man,whom do you wis h to
make beautiful? In the firs t place, know who youare and then adorn yours elf
appropriately. You are a human being;and this is a mortal animal which has the
power of us ing appearances rationally. But what is meant by "rationally?"
Conformably to natureand completely. What, then, do you pos s es s which is peculiar?
Is itthe animal part? No. Is it the condition of mortality? No. Is it thepower of
us ing appearances ? No. You pos s es s the rational faculty as a peculiar thing: adorn
and beautify this ; but leave your hair tohim who made it as he chos e. Come, what
other appellations have you?Are you man or woman? "Man." Adorn yours elf then as
man, not as woman.Woman is naturally s mooth and delicate; and if s he has much hair
(onher body), s he is a mons ter and is exhibited at Rome among mons ters .And in a man
it is mons trous not to have hair; and if he has nohair, he is a mons ter; but if he
cuts off his hairs and plucks themout, what s hall we do with him? where s hall we
exhibit him? andunder what name s hall we s how him? "I will exhibit to you a man who
choos es to be a woman rather than a man." What a terrible s ight! Thereis no man who
will not wonder at s uch a notice. Indeed I think thatthe men who pluck out their
hairs do what they do without knowing whatthey do. Man what fault have you to find
with your nature? That itmade you a man? What then? was it fit that nature s hould
make allhuman creatures women? and what advantage in that cas e would youhave had in
being adorned? for whom would you have adorned yours elf,if all human creatures were
women? But you are not pleas ed with thematter: s et to work then upon the whole
bus ines s . Take away- what is its name?- that which is the caus e of the hairs : make
yours elf a womanin all res pects , that we may not be mis taken: do not make one half
man, and the other half woman. Whom do you wis h to pleas e? The women?,Pleas e them
as a man. "Well; but they like s mooth men." Will you nothang yours elf? and if women
took delight in catamites , would youbecome one? Is this your bus ines s ? were you
born for this purpos e,that dis s olute women s hould delight in you? Shall we make
s uch a oneas you a citizen of Corinth and perchance a prefect of the city, orchief
of the youth, or general or s uperintendent of the games ? Well,and when you have
taken a wife, do you intend to have your hairs plucked out? To pleas e whom and for
what purpos e? And when you havebegotten children, will you introduce them als o into
the s tate withthe habit of plucking their hairs ? A beautiful citizen, and s enator
and rhetorician. We ought to pray that s uch young men be born among us and brought
up. D o not s o, I entreat you by the Gods , young man: but when you haveonce heard
thes e words , go away and s ay to yours elf, "Epictetus has not s aid this to me; for
how could he? but s ome propitious goodthrough him: for it would never have come
into his thoughts to s aythis , s ince he is not accus tomed to talk thus with any
pers on. Comethen let us obey God, that we may not be s ubject to his anger." Yous ay,
"No." But, if a crow by his croaking s ignifies anything to you,it is not the crow
which s ignifies , but God through the crow; and ifhe s ignifies anything through a
human voice, will he not caus e the manto s ay this to you, that you may know the
power of the divinity,that he s ignifies to s ome in this way, and to others in that
way,and concerning the greates t things and the chief he s ignifies through the
nobles t mes s enger? What els e is it which the poet s ays : For we ours elves have
warned him, and have s ent Hermes the careful watcher, Argus ' s layer, The
hus band not to kill nor wed the wife.Was Hermes going to des cend from heaven to s ay
this to him? And nowthe Gods s ay this to you and s end the mes s enger, the s layer of
Argus , to warn you not to pervert that which is well arranged, norto bus y yours elf
about it, but to allow a man to be a man, and a womanto be a woman, a beautiful man
to be as a beautiful man, and an uglyman as an ugly man, for you are not fles h and
hair, but you arewill; and if your will beautiful, then you will be beautiful. But
upthe pres ent time I dare not tell you that you are ugly, for I thinkthat you are
readier to hear anything than this . But s ee what Socrates s ays to the mos t beautiful
and blooming of men Alcibiades : "Try, then,to be beautiful." What does he s ay to
him? "D res s your hair andpluck the hairs from your legs ." Nothing of that kind. But
"Adorn yourwill, take away bad opinions ." "How with the body?" Leave it as itis by
nature. Another has looked after thes e things : intrus t them tohim. "What then, mus t
a man be uncleaned?" Certainly not; but what youare and are made by nature, cleans e
this . A man s hould be cleanly as aman, a woman as a woman, a child as a child. You
s ay no: but let us als o pluck out the lion's mane, that he may not be uncleaned, and
the cock's comb for he als o ought to he cleaned. Granted, but as acock, and the
lion as a lion, and the hunting dog as a hunting dog. CHAPTER 2 In what a man
ought to be exercis ed who has made proficiency; andthat we neglect the chief things
There are three things in which a man ought to exercis e hims elfwho would be wis e
and good. The firs t concerns the des ires and theavers ions , that a man may not fail
to get what he des ires , and that hemay not fall into that which he does not des ire.
The s econd concerns the movements (toward) and the movements from an object, and
generallyin doing what a man ought to do, that he may act according to order,to
reas on, and not careles s ly. The third thing concerns freedom fromdeception and
ras hnes s in judgement, and generally it concerns theas s ents . Of thes e topics the
chief and the mos t urgent is that whichrelates to the affects ; for an affect is
produced in no other way thanby a failing to obtain that which a man des ires or a
falling into thatwhich a man would wis h to avoid. This is that which brings in
perturbations , dis orders , bad fortune, mis fortunes , s orrows ,lamentations and envy;
that which makes men envious and jealous ; andby thes e caus es we are unable even to
lis ten to the precepts ofreas on. The s econd topic concerns the duties of a man; for
I ought notto be free from affects like a s tatue, but I ought to maintain the
relations natural and acquired, as a pious man, as a s on, as a father,as a citizen.
The third topic is that which immediately concerns thos e who aremaking proficiency,
that which concerns the s ecurity of the other two,s o that not even in s leep any
appearance unexamined may s urpris e us ,nor in intoxication, nor in melancholy.
"This ," it may be s aid, "is above our power." But the pres ent philos ophers
neglecting the firs ttopic and the s econd, employ thems elves on the third, us ing
s ophis tical arguments , making conclus ions from ques tioning,employing hypothes es ,
lying. "For a man mus t," as it is s aid, "whenemployed on thes e matters , take care
that he is not deceived." Whomus t? The wis e and good man. This then is all that is
wanting toyou. Have you s ucces s fully worked
out the res t? Are you free fromdeception in the matter of money? If you s ee a
beautiful girl, doyou res is t the appearance? If your neighbor obtains an es tate by
will,are you not vexed? Now is there nothing els e wanting to you exceptunchangeable
firmnes s of mind? Wretch, you hear thes e very things withfear and anxiety that s ome
pers on may des pis e you, and withinquiries about what any pers on may s ay about you.
And if a man comeand tell you that in a certain convers ation in which the ques tion
was ,"Who is the bes t philos opher," a man who was pres ent s aid that acertain pers on
was the chief philos opher, your little s oul which was only a finger's length
s tretches out to two cubits . But if another whois pres ent "You are mis taken; it is
not worth while to lis ten to acertain pers on, for what does he know? he has only
the firs tprinciples , and no more?" then you are confounded, you grow pale,you cry
out immediately, "I will s how him who I am, that I am agreat philos opher." It is
s een by thes e very things : why do you wis hto s how it by others ? D o you not know
that D iogenes pointed out one ofthe s ophis ts in this way by s tretching out his
middle finger? And thenwhen the man was wild with rage, "This ," he s aid, "is the
certainpers on: I pointed him out to you." For a man is not s hown by thefinger, as a
s tone or a piece of wood: but when any pers on s hows theman s principles , then he
s hows him as a man. Let us look at your principles als o. For is it not plain that
youvalue not at all your own will, but you look externally to things which are
independent of your will? For ins tance, what will acertain pers on s ay? and what
will people think of you? will you becons idered a man of learning; have you read
Chrys ippus or Antipater?for if you have read Archedemus als o, you have everything.
Why are yous till uneas y les t you s hould not s how us who you are? Would you let me
tell you what manner of man you have s hown us that you are? You haveexhibited
yours elf to us as a mean fellow, querulous , pas s ionate,cowardly, finding fault with
everything, blaming everybody, neverquiet, vain: this is what you have exhibited to
us . Go away now andread Archedemus ; then, if a mous e s hould leap down and make a
nois e,you are a dead man. For s uch a death awaits you as it did- what was the man's
name?- Crinis ; and he too was proud, becaus e he unders toodArchedemus . Wretch, will
you not dis mis s thes e things that do not concern you atall? Thes e things are
s uitable to thos e who are able to learn themwithout perturbation, to thos e who can
s ay: "I am not s ubject toanger, to grief, to envy: I am not hindered, I am not
res trained. Whatremains for me? I have leis ure, I am tranquil: let us s ee how we
mus t deal with s ophis tical arguments ; let us s ee how when a man has accepted an
hypothes is he s hall not be led away to anything abs urd."To them s uch things belong.
To thos e who are happy it is appropriateto light a fire, to dine; if they choos e,
both to s ing and to dance.But when the ves s el is s inking, you come to me and hois t
the s ails . CHAPTER 3 What is the matter on which a good man s hould he employed,
and inwhat we ought chiefly to practice ours elves The material for the wis e and
good man is his own ruling faculty:and the body is the material for the phys ician
and the aliptes ; theland is the matter for the hus bandman. The bus ines s of the wis e
andgood man is to us e appearances conformably to nature: and as it is thenature of
every s oul to as s ent to the truth, to dis s ent from thefals e, and to remain in
s us pens e as to that which is uncertain; s oit is its nature to be moved toward the
des ire of the good, and toavers ion from the evil; and with res pect to that which is
neither goodnor bad it feels indifferent. For as the money-changer is notallowed to
reject Caes ar's coin, nor the s eller of herbs , but if yous how the coin, whether he
choos es or not, he mus t give up what is s oldfor the coin; s o it is als o in the
matter of the s oul. When the goodappears , it immediately attracts to its elf; the
evil repels fromits elf. But the s oul will never reject the manifes t appearance of
the good, any more than pers ons will reject Caes ar's coin. On this principle depends
every movement both of man and God. For this reas on the good is preferred to every
intimaterelations hip. There is no intimate relations hip between me and myfather,
but there is between me and the good. "Are you s ohard-hearted?" Yes , for s uch is my
nature; and this is the coinwhich God has given me. For this reas on, if the good is
s omethingdifferent from the beautiful and the jus t, both father is gone, andbrother
and country, and everything. But s hall I overlook my own good,in order that you may
have it, and s hall I give it up to you? Why?"I am your father." But you are not my
good. "I am your brother."But you are not my good. But if we place the good in a
rightdetermination of the will, the very obs ervance of the relations oflife is
good, and accordingly he who gives up any external things obtains that which is
good. Your father takes away your property.But he does not injure you. Your brother
will have the greater part ofthe es tate in land. Let him have as much as he
choos es . Will he thenhave a greater s hare of modes ty, of fidelity, of brotherly
affection? For who will eject you from this pos s es s ion? Not even Zeus ,for neither
has he chos en to do s o; but he has made this in my ownpower, and he has given it to
me jus t as he pos s es s ed it hims elf, freefrom hindrance, compuls ion, and impediment.
When then the coin whichanother us es is a different coin, if a man pres ents this
coin, hereceives that which is s old for it. Suppos e that there comes intothe
province a thievis h procons ul, what coin does he us e? Silver coin.Show it to him,
and carry off what you pleas e. Suppos e one comes whois an adulterer: what coin does
he us e? Little girls . "Take," a mans ays , "the coin, and s ell me the s mall thing."
"Give," s ays thes eller, "and buy." Another is eager to pos s es s boys . Give him the
coin, and receive what you wis h. Another is fond of hunting: givehim a fine nag or
a dog. Though he groans and laments , he will s ellfor it that which you want. For
another compels him from within, hewho has fixed this coin. Agains t this kind of
thing chiefly a man s hould exercis e hims elf. As s oon as you go out in the morning,
examine every man whom you s ee,every man whom you hear; ans wer as to a ques tion,
"What have yous een?" A hands ome man or woman? Apply the rule: Is this independent
ofthe will, or dependent? Independent. Take it away. What have you s een?A man
lamenting over the death of a child. Apply the rule. D eath is a thing independent of
the will. Take it away. Has the procons ul metyou? Apply the rule. What kind of
thing is a procons ul's office?Independent of the will, or dependent on it?
Independent. Take this away als o: it does not s tand examination: cas t it away: it is
nothing to you. If we practiced this and exercis ed ours elves in it daily from
morning to night, s omething indeed would be done. But now we areforthwith caught
half-as leep by every appearance, and it is only, ifever, that in the s chool we are
rous ed a little. Then when we goout, if we s ee a man lamenting, we s ay, "He is
undone." If we s ee acons ul, we s ay, "He is happy." If we s ee an exiled man, we s ay,
"He is mis erable." If we s ee a poor man, we s ay, "He is wretched: he has nothing to
eat." We ought then to eradicate thes e bad opinions , and to this end wes hould
direct all our efforts . For what is weeping and lamenting?Opinion. What is bad
fortune? Opinion. What is civil s edition, what is divided opinion, what is blame,
what is accus ation, what is impiety,what is trifling? All thes e things are
opinions , and nothing more, andopinions about things independent of the will, as if
they were goodand bad. Let a man trans fer thes e opinions to things dependent onthe
will, and I engage for him that he will be firm and cons tant,whatever may be the
s tate of things around him. Such as is a dis h ofwater, s uch is the s oul. Such as is
the ray of light which falls onthe water, s uch are the appearances . When the water
is moved, theray als o s eems to be moved, yet it is not moved. And when, then, a man
is s eized with giddines s , it is not the arts and the virtues which areconfounded,
but the s pirit on which they are impres s ed; but if thes pirit be res tored to its
s ettled s tate, thos e things als o areres tored. CHAPTER 4 Agains t a pers on who
s howed his partis ans hip in an uns eemly way in atheatre The governor of Epirus
having s hown his favor to an actor in anuns eemly way and being publicly blamed on
this account, andafterward having reported to Epictetus that he was blamed and that
he was vexed at thos e who blamed him, Epictetus s aid: What harm havethey been
doing? Thes e men als o were acting, as partis ans , as you weredoing. The governor
replied, "D oes , then, any pers on s how his partis ans hip in this way?" When they s ee
you, s aid Epictetus , whoare their governor, a friend of Caes ar and his deputy,
s howingpartis ans hip in this way, was it not to be expected that they als os hould
s how their partis ans hip in the s ame way? for if it is not rightto s how partis ans hip
in this way, do not do s o yours elf; and if itis right, why are you angry if they
followed your example? For whomhave the many to imitate except you, who are their
s uperiors , to whos eexample s hould they look when they go to the theatre except
yours ?"See how the deputy of Caes ar looks on: he has cried out, and I too,then,
will cry out. He s prings up from his s eat, and I will s pring up.His s laves s it in
various parts of the theatre and call out. I have nos laves , but I will mys elf cry
out as much as I can and as loud as all of them together." You ought then to know
when you enter thetheatre that you enter as a rule and example
to the res t how theyought to look at the acting. Why then did they blame you?
Becaus eevery man hates that which is a hindrance to him. They wis hed onepers on to
be crowned; you wis hed another. They were a hindrance toyou, and you were a
hindrance to them. You were found to be thes tronger; and they did what they could;
they blamed that whichhindered them. What, then, would you have? That you s hould do
what youpleas e, and they s hould not even s ay what they pleas e? And what is the
wonder? D o not the hus bandmen abus e Zeus when they are hindered byhim? do not the
s ailors abus e him? do they ever ceas e abus ingCaes ar? What then does not Zeus know?
is not what is s aid reportedto Caes ar? What, then, does he do? he knows that, if he
punis hed allwho abus e him, he would have nobody to rule over. What then? whenyou
enter the theatre, you ought to s ay not, "Let Sophron be crowned",but you ought to
s ay this , "Come let me maintain my will in this matter s o that it s hall be
conformable to nature: no man is dearerto me than mys elf. It would be ridiculous ,
then, for me to be hurt(injured) in order that another who is an actor may be
crowned." Whomthen do I wis h to gain the prize? Why the actor who does gain the
prize; and s o he will always gain the prize whom I wis h to gain it."But I wis h
Sophron to be crowned." Celebrate as many games as youchoos e in your own hous e,
Nemean, Pythian, Is thmian, Olympian, andproclaim him victor. But in public do not
claim more than your due,nor attempt to appropriate to yours elf what belongs to
all. If youdo not cons ent to this , bear being abus ed: for when you do the s ame as
the many, you put yours elf on the s ame level with them. CHAPTER 5 Agains t thos e
who on account of s icknes s go away home "I am s ick here," s aid one of the pupils ,
"and I wis h to returnhome." At home, I s uppos e, you free from s icknes s . D o you not
cons iderwhether you are doing, anything here which may be us eful to theexercis e of
your will, that it may be corrected? For if you aredoing nothing toward this end,
it was to no purpos e that you came.Go away. Look after your affairs at home. For if
your ruling powercannot be maintained in a s tate conformable to nature, it is
pos s ible that your land can, that you will he able to increas e yourmoney, you will
take care of your father in his old age, frequentthe public place, hold magis terial
office: being bad you will do badlyanything els e that you have to do. But if you
unders tand yours elf, andknow that you are cas ting away certain bad opinions and
adoptingothers in their place, and if you have changed your s tate of life from
things which are not within your will to things which are withinyour will, and if
you ever s ay, "Alas ! " you are not s aying what yous ay on account of your father, or
your brother, but on account ofyours elf, do you s till allege your s icknes s ? D o you
not know that bothdis eas e and death mus t s urpris e us while we are doing s omething?
thehus bandman while he is tilling the ground, the s ailor while he is onhis voyage?
what would you be doing when death s urpris es you, foryou mus t be s urpris ed when you
are doing s omething? If you can bedoing anything better than this when you are
s urpris ed, do it. For Iwis h to be s urpris ed by dis eas e or death when I am looking
afternothing els e than my that may be free from perturbation, own will thatI may be
free from hindrance, free from compuls ion, and in a s tateof liberty. I wis h to be
found practicing thes e things that I may beable to s ay to God, "Have I in any
res pect trans gres s ed thycommands ? have I in any res pect wrongly us ed the powers
which Thougaves t me? have I mis us ed my perceptions or my preconceptions ? haveI ever
blamed Thee? have I ever found fault with Thy adminis tration? Ihave been s ick,
becaus e it was Thy will, and s o have others , but I was content to be s ick. I have
been poor becaus e it was Thy will, but Iwas content als o. I have not filled a
magis terial office, becaus e itwas not Thy pleas ure that I s hould: I have never
des ired it. Has t Thouever s een me for this reas on dis contented? have I not always
approached Thee with a cheerful countenance, ready to do Thycommands and to obey
Thy s ignals ? Is it now Thy will that I s houlddepart from the as s emblage of men? I
depart. I give Thee all thanks that Thou has t allowed me to join in this Thy
as s emblage of men and tos ee Thy works , and to comprehend this Thy adminis tration."
May deaths urpris e me while I am thinking of thes e things , while I am thus writing
and reading. "But my mother will not hold my head when I am s ick." Go to your
mother then; for you are a fit pers on to have your head held whenyou are s ick. "But
at home I us ed to lie down on a delicious bed."Go away to your bed: indeed you are
fit to lie on s uch a bed even whenyou are in health: do not, then, los e what you
can do there. But what does Socrates s ay? "As one man," he s ays , "is pleas edwith
improving his land, another with improving his hors e, s o I amdaily pleas ed in
obs erving that I am growing better." "Better in what?in us ing nice little words ?"
Man, do not s ay that. "In littlematters of s peculation?" What are you s aying? "And
indeed I do not s eewhat els e there is on which philos ophers employ their time."
D oes its eem nothing to you to have never found fault with any pers on, neitherwith
God nor man? to have blamed nobody? to carry the s ame face always in going out and
coming in? This is what Socrates knew, and yet henever s aid that he knew anything
or taught anything. But if any manas ked for nice little words or little
s peculations , he would carry himto Protagoras or to Hippias ; and if any man came to
as k for pot-herbs ,he would carry him to the gardener. Who then among you has this
purpos e? for if indeed you had it, you would both be content ins icknes s , and in
hunger, and in death. If any among you has been inlove with a charming girl, he
knows that I s ay what is true. CHAPTER 6 Mis cellaneous When s ome pers on as ked
him how it happened that s ince reas on has been more cultivated by the men of the
pres ent age, the progres s made in former times was greater. In what res pect, he
ans wered, has itbeen more cultivated now, and in what res pect was the progres s
greaterthen? For in that in which it has now been more cultivated, in thatals o the
progres s will now be found. At pres ent it has been cultivatedfor the purpos e of
res olving s yllogis ms , and progres s is made. Butin former times it was cultivated
for the purpos e of maintaining thegoverning faculty in a condition conformable to
nature, and progres s was made. D o not, then, mix things which are different and do
notexpect, when you are laboring at one thing, to make progres s inanother. But s ee
if any man among us when he is intent s ee I uponthis , the keeping hims elf in a
s tate conformable to nature andliving s o always , does not make progres s . For you
will not find s uch aman. The good man is invincible, for he does not enter the
contes twhere he is not s tronger. If you want to have his land and all that is on it,
take the land; take his s laves , take his magis terial office,take his poor body. But
you will not make his des ire fail in thatwhich it s eeks , nor his avers ion fall into
that which he wouldavoid. The only contes t into which he enters is that about
things which are within the power of his will; how then will he not beinvincible?
Some pers on having as ked him what is Common s ens e, Epictetus replied: As that may be
called a certain Common hearing which onlydis tinguis hes vocal s ounds , and that
which dis tinguis hes mus icals ounds is not Common, but artificial; s o there are
certain things which men, who are not altogether perverted, s ee by the common
notions which all pos s es s . Such a cons titution of the mind is named Commons ens e. It
is not eas y to exhort weak young men; for neither is it eas y tohold chees e with a
hook. But thos e who have a good naturaldis pos ition, even if you try to turn them
as ide, cling s till more toreas on. Wherefore Rufus generally attempted to
dis courage, and he us edthis method as a tes t of thos e who had a good natural
dis pos itionand thos e who had not. "For," it was his habit to s ay, "as a s tone, if
you cas t it upward, will be brought down to the earth by its ownnature, s o the man
whos e mind is naturally good, the more you repelhim, the more he turns toward that
to which he is naturally inclined." CHAPTER 7 To the adminis trator of the free
cities who was an Epicurean When the adminis trator came to vis it him, and the man
was anEpicurean, Epictetus s aid: It is proper for us who are notphilos ophers to
inquire of you who are philos ophers , as thos e who cometo a s trange city inquire of
the citizens and thos e who are acquaintedwith it, what is the bes t thing in the
world, in order that we als o,after inquiry, may go in ques t of that which is bes t
and look at it,as s trangers do with the things in cities . For that there are three
things which relate to man, s oul, body, and things external,s carcely any man
denies . It remains for you philos ophers to ans werwhat is the bes t. What s hall we
s ay to men? Is the fles h the bes t? andwas it for this that Maximus s ailed as far as
Cas s iope in winterwith his s on, and accompanied him that he might be gratified in
thefles h? Then the man s aid that it was not, and added, "Far be that fromhim." Is
it not fit then, Epictetus s aid, to be actively employedabout the bes t? "It is
certainly of all things the mos t fit." What,then, do we pos s es s which is better
than the fles h? "The s oul," hereplied. And the good things of the bes t, are they
better, or the goodthings of the wors e? "The good things of the bes t." And are the
goodthings of the bes t within the power of the will or not within thepower of the
will? "They are within the power of the will." Is ,then, the pleas ure of the s oul a
thing within the power
of the will?"It is ," he replied. And on what s hall this pleas ure depend? Onits elf?
But that cannot be conceived: for there mus t firs t exis t acertain s ubs tance or
nature of good, by obtaining which we s hallhave pleas ure in the s oul. He as s ented
to this als o. On what, then,s hall we depend for this pleas ure of the s oul? for if
it s halldepend on things of the s oul, the s ubs tance of the good is dis covered;for
good cannot be one thing, and that at which we are rationallydelighted another
thing; nor if that which precedes is not good, canthat which comes after be good,
for in order that the thing whichcomes after may be good, that which precedes mus t
be good. But youwould not affirm this , if you are in your right mind, for you would
then s ay what is incons is tent both with Epicurus and the res t ofyour doctrines . It
remains , then, that the pleas ure of the s oul is in the pleas ure from things of the
body: and again that thos e bodilythings mus t be the things which precede and the
s ubs tance of the good. For this reas on Maximus acted foolis hly if he made the
voyage forany other reas on than for the s ake of the fles h, that is , for the s akeof
the bes t. And als o a man acts foolis hly if he abs tains from thatwhich belongs to
others , when he is a judge and able to take it.But, if you pleas e, let us cons ider
this only, how this thing may bedone s ecretly, and s afely, and s o that no man will
know it. For noteven does Epicurus hims elf declare s tealing to be bad, but he
admits that detection is ; and becaus e it is impos s ible to have s ecurityagains t
detection, for this reas on he s ays , "D o not s teal." But Is ay to you that if
s tealing is done cleverly and cautious ly, wes hall not be detected: further als o we
have powerful friends in Romeboth men and women, and the Hellenes are weak, and no
man will ventureto go up to Rome for the purpos e. Why do you refrain from your own
good? This is s ens eles s , foolis h. But even if you tell me that youdo refrain, I
will not believe you. For as it is impos s ible toas s ent to that which appears fals e,
and to turn away from that whichis true, s o it is impos s ible to abs tain from that
which appears good. But wealth is a good thing, and certainly mos t efficient in
producing pleas ure. Why will you not acquire wealth? And why s hould wenot corrupt
our neighbor's wife, if we can do it without detection?and if the hus band foolis hly
prates about the matter, why not pitchhim out of the hous e? If you would be a
philos opher s uch as youought to be, if a perfect philos opher, if cons is tent with
your owndoctrines . If you would not, you will not differ at all from us whoare
called Stoics ; for we als o s ay one thing, but we do another: wetalk of the things
which are beautiful, but we do what is bas e. Butyou will be pervers e in the
contrary way, teaching what is bad,practicing what is good. In the name of God,
are you thinking of a city of Epicureans ? "Ido not marry." "Nor I, for a man ought
not to marry; nor ought we tobeget children, nor engage in public matters ." What
then willhappen? whence will the citizens come? who will bring them up? whowill be
governor of the youth, who pres ide wi over gymnas ticexercis es ? and in what als o
will the teacher ins truct them? will heteach them what the Lacedaemonians were
taught, or what theAthenians were taught? Come take a young man, bring him up
accordingto your doctrines . The doctrines are bad, s ubvers ive of a s tate,pernicious
to families , and not becoming to women. D is mis s them,man. You live in a chief city:
it is your duty to be a magis trate,to judge jus tly, to abs tain from that which
belongs to others ; nowoman ought to s eem beautiful to you except your own wife, and
noyouth, no ves s el of s ilver, no ves s el of gold. Seek for doctrines which are
cons is tent with what I s ay, and, by making them yourguide, you will with pleas ure
abs tain from things which have s uchpers uas ive power to lead us and overpower us .
But if to the pers uas ivepower of thes e things , we als o devis e s uch a philos ophy as
this which helps to pus h us on toward them and s trengthens us to this end, what will
be the cons equence? In a piece of toreutic art which is the bes t part? the s ilver or
the workmans hip? The s ubs tance of thehand is the fles h; but the work of the hand is
the principal part. Theduties then are als o three; thos e which are directed toward
theexis tence of a thing; thos e which are directed toward its exis tence ina
particular kind; and third, the chief or leading things thems elves . So als o in man
we ought not to value the material, thepoor fles h, but the principal. What are
thes e? Engaging in publicbus ines s , marrying, begetting children, venerating God,
taking care ofparents , and, generally, having des ires , avers ions , purs uits of
things and avoidances , in the way in which we ought to do thes e things , andaccording
to our nature. And how are we cons tituted by nature? Free,noble, modes t: for what
other animal blus hes ? what other is capable ofreceiving the appearance of s hame?
and we are s o cons tituted by natureas to s ubject pleas ure to thes e things , as a
minis ter, a s ervant, inorder that it may call forth our activity, in order that it
may keepus cons tant in acts which are conformable to nature. "But I am rich and I
want nothing." Why, then, do you pretend tobe a philos opher? Your golden and your
s ilver ves s els are enough foryou. What need have you of principles ? "But I am als o
a judge of theGreeks ." D o you know how to judge? Who taught you to know? "Caes ar
wrote to me a codicil." Let him write and give you a commis s ion tojudge of mus ic;
and what will be the us e of it to you? Still how didyou become a judge? whos e hand
did you kis s ? the hand of Symphorus or Numenius ? Before whos e bedchamber have you
s lept? To whom haveyou s ent gifts ? Then do you not s ee that to be a judge is jus t
ofthe s ame value as Numenius is ? "But I can throw into pris on any manwhom I
pleas e." So you can do with a s tone. "But I can beat withs ticks whom I pleas e." So
you may an as s . This is not a governing ofmen. Govern us as rational animals : s how
us what is profitable tous , and we will follow it: s how us what is unprofitable,
and we willturn away from it. Make us imitators of yours elf, as Socrates made men
imitators of hims elf. For he was like a governor of men, who made thems ubject to
him their des ires , their avers ion, their movements towardan object and their
turning away from it. "D o this : do not do this : ifyou do not obey, I will throw you
into pris on." This is notgoverning men like rational animals . But I: As Zeus has
ordained, s oact: if you do not act s o, you will feel the penalty, you will be
punis hed. What will be the punis hment? Nothing els e than not havingdone your duty:
you will los e the character of fidelity, modes ty,propriety. D o not look for greater
penalties than thes e. CHAPTER 8 How we mus t exercis e ours elves agains t
appearances As we exercis e ours elves agains t s ophis tical ques tions , s o weought to
exercis e ours elves daily agains t appearances ; for thes eappearances als o propos e
ques tions to us . "A certain pers on s on is dead." Ans wer: the thing is not within the
power of the will: it is not an evil. "A father has dis inherited a certain s on. What
do youthink of it?" It is a thing beyond the power of the will, not an evil."Caes ar
has condemned a pers on." It is a thing beyond the power of thewill, not an evil.
"The man is afflicted at this ." Affliction is athing which depends on the will: it
is an evil. He has borne thecondemnation bravely." That is a thing within the power
of the will:it is a good. If we train ours elves in this manner, we s hall make
progres s ; for we s hall never as s ent to anything of which there is not an appearance
capable of being comprehended. Your s on is dead.What has happened? Your s on is
dead. Nothing more? Nothing. Yours hip is los t. What has happened? Your s hip is
los t. A man has been ledto pris on. What has happened? He has been led to pris on.
But thatherein he has fared badly, every man adds from his own opinion. "ButZeus ,"
you s ay, "does not do right in thes e matters ." Why? becaus ehe has made you capable
of endurance? becaus e he has made youmagnanimous ? becaus e he has taken from that
which befalls you thepower of being evil? becaus e it is in your power to be happy
while youare s uffering what you s uffer; becaus e he has opened the door toyou, when
things do not pleas e you? Man, go out and do not complain. Hear how the Romans
feel toward philos ophers , if you would like toknow. Italicus , who was the mos t in
repute of the philos ophers , oncewhen I was pres ent being, vexed with his own
friends and as if hewas s uffering s omething intolerable s aid, "I cannot bear it,
you arekilling me: you will make me s uch as that man is "; pointing to me. CHAPTER
9 To a certain rhetorician who was going up to Rome on a s uit When a certain
pers on came to him, who was going up to Rome onaccount of a s uit which had regard
to his rank, Epictetus inquired thereas on of his going to Rome, and the man then
as ked what he thoughtabout the matter. Epictetus replied: If you as k me what you
will do inRome, whether you will s ucceed or fall, I have no rule about this . Butif
you as k me how you will fare, I can tell you: if you have rightopinions , you will
fare well; if they are fals e, you will fare ill.For to every man the caus e of his
acting is opinion. For what is thereas on why you des ired to be elected governor of
the Cnos s ians ? Youropinion. What is the reas on that you are now going up to Rome?
Youropinion. And going in winter, and with danger and expens e. "I mus tgo." What
tells you this ? Your opinion. Then if opinions are thecaus es of all actions , and a
man has bad opinions , s uch as the caus emay be, s uch als o is the effect. Have we
then all s ound opinions , bothyou and your advers ary? And how do you differ? But
have you s ounderopinions than your advers ary? Why? You think s o. And s o does he
think that his opinions are better; and s o do madmen. This is a badcriterion. But
s how to me that you have made s ome inquiry into youropinions and have taken s ome
pains about them. And as now you ares ailing to Rome in order to become governor of
the Cnos s ians , andyou are not content to s tay at home with the honors which you
had, butyou des ire s omething greater and more cons picuous , s o when did youever make
a voyage for the purpos e of examining your own opinions , andcas ting them out, if
you have any that are bad? Whom have youapproached for this purpos e? What time have
you fixed for it? Whatage? Go over the times of your life by yours elf, if you are
as hamed ofme. When you were a boy, did you examine your own opinions ? and didyou
not then, as you do all things now, do as you did do? and when youwere become a
youth and attended the rhetoricians , and yours elfpracticed rhetoric, what did you
imagine that you were deficient in?And when you were a young man and engaged in
public matters , andpleaded caus es yours elf, and were gaining reputation, who then
s eemed your equal? And when would you have s ubmitted to any manexamining and s how
that your opinions are bad? What, then, do you wis hme to s ay to you? "Help me in
this matter." I have no theorem (rule)for this . Nor have you, if you came to me for
this purpos e, come to meas a philos opher, but as to a s eller of vegetables or a
s hoemaker."For what purpos e then have philos ophers theorems ?" For this purpos e, that
whatever may happen, our ruling faculty may be andcontinue to be conformable to
nature. D oes this s eem to you a s mallthing? "No; but the greates t." What then? does
it need only a s horttime? and is it pos s ible to s eize it as you pas s by? If you
can, s eizeit. Then you will s ay, "I met with Epictetus as I s hould meet with a
s tone or a s tatue": for you s aw me, and nothing more. But he meets with a man as a
man, who learns his opinions , and in his turn s hows his own. Learn my opinions : s how
me yours ; and then s ay that youhave vis ited me. Let us examine one another: if I
have any badopinion, take it away; if you have any, s how it. This is the meaningof
meeting with a philos opher. "Not s o, but this is only a pas s ingvis it, and while we
are hiring the ves s el, we can als o s eeEpictetus . Let us s ee what he s ays ." Then you
go away and s ay:"Epictetus was nothing: he us ed s olecis ms and s poke in a barbarous
way." For of what els e do you come as judges ? "Well, but a man may s ayto me, "If I
attend to s uch matters , I s hall have no land, as you havenone; I s hall have no
s ilver cups as you have none, nor fine beas ts as you have none." In ans wer to this
it is perhaps s ufficient to s ay: Ihave no need of s uch things : but if you pos s es s
many things you haveneed of others : whether you choos e or not, you are poorer than
I am."What then have I need of?" Of that which you have not: of firmnes s ,of a mind
which is conformable to nature, of being free fromperturbation. Whether I have a
patron or not, what is that to me?but it is s omething to you. I am richer than you:
I am not anxious what Caes ar will think of me: for this reas on, I flatter no man.
This is what I pos s es s ins tead of ves s els of s ilver and gold. You haveutens ils of
gold; but your dis cours e, your opinions , your as s ents ,your movements , your des ires
are of earthen ware. But when I havethes e things conformable to nature, why s hould
I not employ my s tudies als o upon reas on? for I have leis ure: my mind is not
dis tracted.What s hall I do, s ince I have no dis traction? What more s uitable toa man
have I than this ? When you have nothing to do, you aredis turbed, you go to the
theatre or you wander about without apurpos e. Why s hould not the philos opher labour
to improve his reas on? You employ yours elf about crys tal ves s els : I employ mys elf
about the s yllogis m named "The Living": you about myrrhine ves s els ;I employ mys elf
about the s yllogis m named "The D enying." To youeverything appears s mall that you
pos s es s : to me all that I haveappears great. Your des ire is ins atiable: mine is
s atis fied. To(children) who put their hand into a narrow necked earthen ves s eland
bring out figs and nuts , this happens ; if they fill the hand, theycannot take it
out, and then they cry. D rop a few of them and you willdraw things out. And do you
part with your des ires : do not des ire manythings and you will have what you want.
CHAPTER 10 In what manner we ought to bear s icknes s When the need of each opinion
comes , we ought to have it inreadines s : on the occas ion of breakfas t, s uch as
relate tobreakfas t; in the bath, thos e that concern the bath; in bed, thos ethat
concern bed. Let s leep not come upon thy languid eyes Before each daily
action thou has t s cann'd; What's done amis s , what done, what left undone;
From firs t to las t examine all, and then Blame what is wrong in what is right
rejoice. And we ought to retain thes e vers es in s uch way that we may us ethem, not
that we may utter them aloud, as when we exclaim "PaeanApollo." Again in fever we
s hould have ready s uch opinions as concern a fever; and we ought not, as s oon as the
fever begins , tolos e and forget all. (A man who has a fever) may "If I philos ophize
any longer, may I be hanged: wherever I go, I mus t take care of thepoor body, that
a fever may not come." But what is philos ophizing?Is it not a preparation agains t
events which may happen? D o you notunders tand that you are s aying s omething of this
kind? "If I s halls till prepare mys elf to bear with patience what happens , may I be
hanged." But this is jus t as if a man after receiving blows s houldgive up the
Pancratium. In the Pancratium it is in our power to des is tand not to receive blows .
But in the other matter, we give upphilos ophy, what s hall we gain I gain? What then
s hould a man s ay onthe occas ion of each painful thing? "It was for this that I
exercis ed mys elf, for this I dis ciplined mys elf." God s ays to you,"Give me a proof
that you have duly practiced athletics , that you haveeaten what you ought, that you
have been exercis ed, that you haveobeyed the aliptes ." Then do you s how yours elf
weak when the timefor action comes ? Now is the time for the fever. Let it be borne
well.Now is the time for thirs t, well; now is the time for hunger, bearit well. Is
it not in your power? who s hall hinder you? Thephys ician will hinder you from
drinking; but he cannot prevent youfrom bearing thirs t well: and he will hinder you
from eating; but hecannot prevent you from bearing hunger well. "But I cannot
attend to my philos ophical s tudies ." And for whatpurpos e do you follow them? Slave,
is it not that you may be happy,that you may be cons tant, is it not that you may be
in a s tateconformable to nature and live s o? What hinders you when you have afever
from having your ruling faculty conformable to nature? Here is the proof of the
thing, here is the tes t of the philos opher. Forthis als o is a part of life, like
walking, like s ailing, likejourneying by land, s o als o is fever. D o you read when
you arewalking? No. Nor do you when you have a fever. if you walk about well,you
have all that belongs to a man who walks . If you bear feverwell, you have all that
belongs to a man in a fever. What is it tobear a fever well? Not to blame God or
man; not to be afflicted itthat which happens , to expect death well and nobly, to
do what mus t bedone: when the phys ician comes in, not to be frightened at what he
s ays ; nor if he s ays , "You are doing well," to be overjoyed. Forwhat good has he
told you? and when you were in health, what goodwas that to you? And even if he
s ays , "You are in a bad way," do notdes pond. For what is it to be ill? is it that
you are near thes everance of the s oul and the body? what harm is there in this ? If
youare not near now, will you not afterward be near? Is the world goingto be turned
ups ide down when you are dead? Why then do you flatterthe phys ician? Why do you
s ay, "If you pleas e, mas ter, I s hall bewell"? Why do you give him an opportunity of
rais ing his eyebrows ?D o you not value a phys ician, as you do a s hoemaker when he is
meas uring your foot, or a carpenter when he is building your hous e,and s o treat the
phys ician as to the body which is not yours , but bynature dead? He who has a fever
has an opportunity of doing this : ifhe does thes e things , he has what belongs to
him. For it is not thebus ines s of a philos opher to look after thes e externals ,
neither his wine nor his oil nor his poor body, but his own ruling power. But as to
externals how mus t he act? s o far as not to be careles s about them.Where then is
there reas on for fear? where is there, then, s tillreas on for anger, and of fear
about what belongs to others , aboutthings which are of no value? For we ought to
have thes e twoprinciples in readines s : that except the will nothing is good nor
bad;and that we ought not to lead events , but to follow them. "Mybrother ought not
to have behaved thus to me." No; but he will s eeto that: and, however he may
behave, I will conduct mys elf towardhim as I ought. For this is my own bus ines s :
that belongs toanother; no man can prevent this , the other thing can be hindered.
CHAPTER 11 Certain mis cellaneous matters There are certain penalties fixed as by
law for thos e who dis obeythe divine adminis tration. Whoever thinks any other thing
to be goodexcept thos e things which depend on the will, let him envy, let him
des ire, let him flatter, let him be perturbed: whoever cons iders anything els e to be
evil, let him grieve, let him lament, let himweep, let him be unhappy. And yet,
though s o s everely punis hed, wecannot des is t. Remember what the poet s ays about
the s tranger: Stranger, I mus t not, e'en if a wors e man come.This , then, may be
applied even
to a father: "I mus t not, even if awors e man than you s hould come, treat a father
unworthily-, for allare from paternal Zeus ." And of a brother, "For all are from
theZeus who pres ides over kindred." And s o in the other relations of lifewe s hall
find Zeus to be an ins pector. CHAPTER 12 About exercis e We ought not to make our
exercis es cons is t in means contrary tonature and adapted to caus e admiration, for,
if we do s o, we, who callours elves philos ophers , s hall not differ at all from
jugglers . Forit is difficult even to walk on a rope; and not only difficult, but it
is als o dangerous . Ought we for this reas on to practice walking on arope, or
s etting up a palm tree, or embracing s tatues ? By no means .Everything, which is
difficult and dangerous is not s uitable forpractice; but that is s uitable which
conduces to the working out ofthat which is propos ed to us as a thing to be worked
out. To live withdes ire and avers ion, free from res traint. And what is this ?
Neither tobe dis appointed in that which you des ire, nor to fall into anythingwhich
you would avoid. Toward this object, then, exercis e ought totend. For, s ince it is
not pos s ible to have your des ire notdis appointed and your avers ion free from
falling into that which youwould avoid, great and cons tant practice you mus t know
that if youallow your des ire and avers ion to turn to things which are notwithin the
power of the will, you will neither have your des irecapable of attaining your
object, nor your avers ion free from thepower of avoiding that which you would
avoid. And s ince s trong habitleads , and we are accus tomed to employ des ire and
avers ion only tothings which are not within the power of our will, we ought to
oppos e to this habit a contrary habit, and where there is greats lipperines s in the
appearances , there to oppos e the habit ofexercis e. I am rather inclined to
pleas ure: I will incline to the contrarys ide above meas ure for the s ake of
exercis e. I am avers e to pain: Iwill rub and exercis e agains t this the appearances
which are pres entedto me for the purpos e of withdrawing my avers ion from every s uch
thing. For who is a practitioner in exercis e? He who practices notus ing his des ire,
and applies his avers ion only to things which arewithin the power of his will, and
practices mos t in the things whichare difficult to conquer. For this reas on one man
mus t practicehims elf more agains t one thing and another agains t another thing.What,
then, is it to the purpos e to s et up a palm tree, or to carryabout a tent of s kins ,
or a mortar and a pes tle? Practice, man, if youare irritable, to endure if you are
abus ed, not to be vexed if you aretreated with dis honour. Then you will make s o
much progres s that, evenif a man s trikes you, you will s ay to yours elf, "Imagine
that you haveembraced a s tatue": then als o exercis e yours elf to us e wine properlys o
as not to drink much, for in this als o there are men whofoolis hly practice
thems elves ; but firs t of all you s hould abs tainfrom it, and abs tain from a young
girl and dainty cakes . Then at las t,if occas ion pres ents its elf, for the purpos e of
trying yours elf at aproper time, you will des cend into the arena to know if
appearances overpower you as they did formerly. But at firs t fly far from thatwhich
is s tronger than yours elf: the contes t is unequal between acharming young girl and
a beginner in philos ophy. "The earthenpitcher," as the s aying is , "and the rock do
not agree." After the des ire and the avers ion comes the s econd topic of the
movements toward action and the withdrawals from it; that you may beobedient to
reas on, that you do nothing out of s eas on or place, orcontrary to any propriety of
the kind. The third topic concerns theas s ents , which is related to the things which
are pers uas ive andattractive. For as Socrates s aid, "we ought not to live a life
withoutexamination," s o we ought not to accept an appearance withoutexamination,
but we s hould s ay, "Wait, let me s ee what you are andwhence you come"; like the
watch at night, "Show me the pas s ." "Haveyou the s ignal from nature which the
appearance that may be acceptedought to have?" And finally whatever means are
applied to the bodyby thos e who exercis e it, if they tend in any way toward des ire
andit, avers ion, they als o may be fit means of exercis e; but if theyare for
dis play, they are the indications of one who has turnedhims elf toward s omething
external, and who is hunting for s omethingels e, and who looks for s pectators who
will s ay, "Oh the great man."For this reas on, Apollonius s aid well, "When you
intend to exercis eyours elf for your own advantage, and you are thirs ty from heat,
takein a mouthful of cold water, and s pit it out, and tell nobody." CHAPTER 13
What s olitude is , and what kind of pers on a s olitary man is Solitude is a certain
condition of a helples s man. For becaus e a manis alone, he is not for that reas on
als o s olitary; jus t as though aman is among numbers , he is not therefore not
s olitary. When then wehave los t either a brother, or a s on, or a friend on whom we
wereaccus tomed to repos e, we s ay that we are left s olitary, though weare often in
Rome, though s uch a crowd meet us , though s o many live inthe s ame place, and
s ometimes we have a great number of s laves . Forthe man who is s olitary, as it is
conceived, is cons idered to be ahelples s pers on and expos ed to thos e who wis h to
harm him. For this reas on when we travel, then es pecially do we s ay that we are
lonelywhen we fall among robbers , for it is not the s ight of a humancreature which
removes us from s olitude, but the s ight of one who is faithful and modes t and
helpful to us . For if being alone is enough tomake s olitude, you may s ay that even
Zeus is s olitary in theconflagration and bewails hims elf s aying, "Unhappy that I am
whohave neither Hera, nor Athena, nor Apollo, nor brother, nor s on, nordes cendant
nor kins man." This is what s ome s ay that he does when he is alone at the
conflagration. For they do not unders tand how a manpas s es his life when he is
alone, becaus e they s et out from acertain natural principle, from the natural
des ire of community andmutual love and from the pleas ure of convers ation among men.
Butnone the les s a man ought to be prepared in a manner for this als o, tobe able to
be s ufficient for hims elf and to be his own companion.For as Zeus dwells with
hims elf, and is tranquil by hims elf, andthinks of his own adminis tration and of its
nature, and is employed inthoughts s uitable to hims elf; s o ought we als o to be able
to talk withours elves , not to feel the want of others als o, not to be unprovided
with the means of pas s ing our time; to obs erve the divineadminis tration and the
relation of ours elves to everything els e; tocons ider how we formerly were affected
toward things that happen andhow at pres ent; what are s till the things which give
us pain; howthes e als o can be cured and how removed; if any things require
improvement, to improve them according to reas on. For you s ee that Caes ar appears
to furnis h us with great peace, thatthere are no longer enemies nor battles nor
great as s ociations ofrobbers nor of pirates , but we can travel at every hour and
s ailfrom eas t to wes t. But can Caes ar give us s ecurity from fever als o,can he from
s hipwreck, from fire, from earthquake or from lightning?well, I will s ay, can he
give us s ecurity agains t love? He cannot.From s orrow? He cannot. From envy? He
cannot. In a word then he cannotprotect us from any of thes e things . But the
doctrine ofphilos ophers promis es to give us s ecurity even agains t thes e things .And
what does it s ay? "Men, if you will attend to me, wherever youare, whatever you are
doing, you will not feel s orrow, nor anger,nor compuls ion, nor hindrance, but you
will pas s your time withoutperturbations and free from everything." When a man has
this peace,not proclaimed by Caes ar (for how s hould he be able to proclaimit?), but
by God through reas on, is he not content when he is alone?when he s ees and
reflects , "Now no evil can happen to me; for me thereis no robber, no earthquake,
everything is full of peace, full oftranquillity: every way, every city, every
meeting, neighbor,companion is harmles s . One pers on whos e bus ines s it is , s upplies
mewith food; another with raiment; another with perceptions , andpreconceptions . And
if he does not s upply what is neces s ary, Hegives the s ignal for retreat, opens the
door, and s ays to you, 'Go.'Go whither? To nothing terrible, but to the place from
which you came,to your friends and kins men, to the elements : what there was in you
offire goes to fire; of earth, to earth; of air, to air; of water towater: no
Hades , nor Acheron, nor Cocytus , nor Pyriphlegethon, but allis full of Gods and
D emons ." When a man has s uch things to think on,and s ees the s un, the moon and
s tars , and enjoys earth and s ea, heis not s olitary nor even helples s . "Well then,
if s ome man s hould comeupon me when I am alone and murder me?" Fool, not murder
you, but yourpoor body. What kind of s olitude then remains ? what want? why do we
makeours elves wors e than children? and what do children do when they areleft alone?
They take up s hells and as hes , and they build s omething,then pull it down, and
build s omething els e, and s o they never wantthe means of pas s ing the time. Shall I,
then, if you s ail away, s itdown and weep, becaus e I have been left alone and
s olitary? Shall Ithen have no s hells , no as hes ? But children do what they do
throughwant of thought, and we through knowledge are unhappy. Every great power is
dangerous to beginners . You mus t then bear s uchthings as you are able, but
conformably to nature: but not... Practices ometimes a way of living like a man in
health. Abs tain from food,drink water, abs tain s ometimes altogether from des ire, in
order thatyou may s ome time des ire cons is tently
with reas on; and if cons is tentlywith reas on, when you have anything good in you,
you will des ire well."Not s o; but we wis h to live like wis e men immediately and to
beus eful to men." Us eful how? what are you doing? have you been us efulto yours elf?
"But, I s uppos e, you wis h to exhort them." You exhortthem! You wis h to be us eful to
them. Show to them in your ownexample what kind of men philos ophy makes , and don't
trifle. Whenyou are eating, do good to thos e who eat with you; when you are
drinking, to thos e who are drinking with you; by yielding to all,giving way,
bearing with them, thus do them good, and do not s pit onthem your phlegm. CHAPTER
14 Certain mis cellaneous matters As bad tragic actors cannot s ing alone, but in
company with many: s os ome pers ons cannot walk about alone. Man, if you are
anything, bothwalk alone and talk to yours elf, and do not hide yours elf in the
chorus . Examine a little at las t, look around, s tir yours elf up,that you may know
who you are. When a man drinks water, or does anything for the s ake ofpractice,
whenever there is an opportunity he tells it to all: "Idrink water." Is it for this
that you drink water, for the purpos eof drinking water? Man, if it is good for you
to drink, drink; butif not, you are acting ridiculous ly. But if it is good for you
and youdo drink, s ay nothing about it to thos e who are dis pleas ed withwater-
drinkers . What then, do you wis h to pleas e thes e very men? Of things that are done
s ome are done with a final purpos e, s omeaccording to occas ion, others with a
certain reference tocircums tances , others for the purpos e of complying with others .
ands ome according to a fixed s cheme of life. You mus t root out of men thes e two
things , arrogance and dis trus t.Arrogance, then, is the opinion that you want
nothing: but dis trus t is the opinion that you cannot be happy when s o many
circums tances s urround you. Arrogance is removed by confutation; and Socrates was the
firs t who practiced this . And, that the thing is not impos s ible,inquire and s eek.
This s earch will do you no harm; and in a mannerthis is philos ophizing, to s eek how
it is pos s ible to employ des ireand avers ion without impediment. "I am s uperior to
you, for my father is a man of cons ular rank."Another s ays , "I have been a tribune,
but you have not." If we werehors es , would you s ay, "My father was s wifter?" "I
have much barleyand fodder, or elegant neck ornaments ." If, then, while you were
s aying this , I s aid, "Be it s o: let us run then." Well, is therenothing in a man
s uch as running in a hors e, by which it will he knownwhich is s uperior and
inferior? Is there not modes ty, fidelity,jus tice? Show yours elf s uperior in thes e,
that you may be s uperioras a man. If you tell me that you can kick violently, I
als o wills ay to you that you are proud of that which is the act of an as s . CHAPTER
15 That we ought to proceed with circums pection to everything In every act
cons ider what precedes and what follows , and thenproceed to the act. If you do not
cons ider, you will at firs t beginwith s pirit, s ince you have not thought at all of
the things whichfollow; but afterward, when s ome cons equences have s hown
thems elves ,you will bas ely des is t. "I wis h to conquer at the Olympic games ." "AndI
too, by the gods : for it is a fine thing." But cons ider here whatprecedes and what
follows ; and then, if it is for your good, undertakethe thing. You mus t act
according to rules , follow s trict diet,abs tain from delicacies , exercis e yours elf
by compuls ion at fixedtimes , in heat, in cold; drink no cold water, nor wine, when
thereis opportunity of drinking it. In a word you mus t s urrender yours elfto the
trainer as you do to a phys ician. Next in the contes t, you mus tbe covered with
s and, s ometimes dis locate a hand, s prain an ankle,s wallow a quantity of dus t, be
s courged with the whip; and afterundergoing all this , you mus t s ometimes be
conquered. Afterreckoning all thes e things , if you have s till an inclination, go to
the athletic practice. If you do not reckon them, obs erve you behavelike children
who at one time you wi play as wres tlers , then as gladiators , then blow a trumpet,
then act a tragedy, when they haves een and admired s uch things . So you als o do: you
are at one time awres tler, then a gladiator, then a philos opher, then a
rhetorician;but with your whole s oul you are nothing: like the ape, you imitateall
that you s ee; and always one thing after another pleas es you,but that which becomes
familiar dis pleas es you. For you have neverundertaken anything after cons ideration,
nor after having explored thewhole matter and put it to a s trict examination; but
you haveundertaken it at hazard and with a cold des ire. Thus s ome pers ons having
s een a philos opher and having heard one s peak like Euphrates -yet who can s peak like
him?- wis h to be philos ophers thems elves . Man, cons ider firs t what the matter is ,
then your own nature als o,what it is able to bear. If you are a wres tler, look at
yours houlders , your thighs , your loins : for different men are naturallyformed for
different things . D o you think that, if you do, you canbe a philos opher? D o you
think that you can eat as you do now, drinkas you do now, and in the s ame way be
angry and out of humour? Youmus t watch, labour, conquer certain des ires , you mus t
depart from yourkins men, be des pis ed by your s lave, laughed at by thos e who meet
you, in everything you mus t be in an inferior condition, as tomagis terial office,
in honours , in courts of jus tice. When you havecons idered all thes e things
completely, then, if you think proper,approach to philos ophy, if you would gain in
exchange for thes e things freedom from perturbations , liberty, tranquillity. If you
have notcons idered thes e things , do not approach philos ophy: do not act like
children, at one time a philos opher, then a tax collector, then arhetorician, then
a procurator of Caes ar Thes e things are notcons is tent. You mus t be one man either
good or bad: you mus t eitherlabour at your own ruling faculty or at external
things : you mus teither labour at things within or at external things : that is , you
mus t either occupy the place of a philos opher or that of one of thevulgar. A
pers on s aid to Rufus when Galba was murdered, "Is the world nowgoverned by
Providence?" But Rufus replied, "D id I ever incidentallyform an argument from Galba
that the world is governed by Providence?" CHAPTER 16 That we ought with caution
to enter, into familiar intercours ewith men If a man has frequent intercours e with
others , either for talk, ordrinking together, or generally for s ocial purpos es , he
mus t eitherbecome like them, or change them to his own fas hion. For if a manplaces
a piece of quenched charcoal clos e to a piece that is burning, either the quenched
charcoal will quench the other, or theburning charcoal will light that which is
quenched. Since, then, thedanger is s o great, we mus t cautious ly enter into s uch
intimacies withthos e of the common s ort, and remember that it is impos s ible that a
man can keep company with one who is covered with s oot without beingpartaker of the
s oot hims elf. For what will you do if a man s peaks about gladiators , about hors es ,
about athletes , or, what is wors e,about men? "Such a pers on is bad," "Such a pers on
is good": "This was well done," "This was done badly." Further, if he s coff, or
ridicule, or s how an ill-natured dis pos ition? Is any man among us prepared like a
lute-player when he takes a lute, s o that as s oon as he has touched the s trings , he
dis covers which are dis cordant, andtunes the ins trument? s uch a power as Socrates
had who in all his s ocial intercours e could lead his companions to his own purpos e?
Hows hould you have this power? It is therefore a neces s ary cons equencethat you are
carried about by the common kind of people. Why, then, are they more powerful than
you? Becaus e they utter thes eus eles s words from their real opinions : but you utter
your elegantwords only from your lips ; for this reas on they are without s trengthand
dead, and it is naus eous to lis ten to your exhortations and yourmis erable virtue,
which is talked of everywhere. In this way thevulgar have the advantage over you:
for every opinion is s trong andinvincible. Until, then, the good s entiments are
fixed in you, and yous hall have acquired a certain power for your s ecurity, I
advis e you tobe careful in your as s ociation with like wax in the s un there willbe
melted away whatever you ins cribe on your minds in the s chool.Withdraw, then,
yours elves far from the s un s o long as you havethes e waxen s entiments . For this
reas on als o philos ophers advis e mento leave their native country, becaus e ancient
habits dis tract themand do not allow a beginning to be made of a different habit;
norcan we tolerate thos e who meet us and s ay: "See s uch a one is now aphilos opher,
who was once s o-and-s o." Thus als o phys icians s endthos e who have lingering dis eas es
to a different country and adifferent air; and they do right, D o you als o introduce
other habits than thos e which you have: fix your opinions and exercis e yours elves in
them. But you do not s o: you go hence to a s pectacle, to a s howof gladiators , to a
place of exercis e, to a circus ; then you come backhither, and again from this place
you go to thos e places , and s tillthe s ame pers ons . And there is no pleas ing habit,
nor attention, norcare about s elf and obs ervation of this kind, "How s hall I us e
theappearances pres ented to me? according to nature, or contrary tonature? how do I
ans wer to them? as I ought, or as I ought not? D o Is ay to thos e things which are
independent of the will, that they donot concern me?" For if you are not yet in
this s tate, fly from yourformer habits , fly from the common s ort, if you intend
ever to beginto be s omething. CHAPTER 17 On providence When you make any
charge agains t Providence, cons ider, and youwill learn that the thing has happened
according to reas on. "Yes ,but the unjus t man has the advantage." In what? "In
money." Yes , forhe is s uperior to you in this , that he flatters , is free from
s hame,and is watchful. What is the wonder? But s ee if he has the advantageover you
in being faithful, in being modes t: for you will not findit to be s o; but wherein
you are s uperior, there you will find thatyou have the advantage. And I once s aid
to a man who was vexed becaus ePhilos torgus was fortunate: "Would you choos e to lie
with Sura?""May it never happen," he replied, "that this day s hould come?" "Whythen
are you vexed, if he receives s omething in return for thatwhich he s ells ; or how
can you cons ider him happy who acquires thos ethings by s uch means as you abominate;
or what wrong does Providence, if he gives the better things to the better men? Is
it notbetter to be modes t than to be rich?" He admitted this . Why are youvexed
then, man, when you pos s es s the better thing? Remember, then,always , and have in
readines s , the truth that this is a law of nature,that the s uperior has an
advantage over the inferior in that inwhich he is s uperior; and you will never be
vexed. "But my wife treats me badly." Well, if any man as ks you what this is , s ay,
"My wife treats me badly." "Is there, then, nothing more?"Nothing. "My father gives
me nothing." But to s ay that this is an evilis s omething which mus t be added to it
externally, and fals elyadded. For this reas on we mus t not get rid of poverty, but
of theopinion about poverty, and then we s hall be happy. CHAPTER 18 That we ought
not to be dis turbed by any news When anything s hall be reported to you which is of
a nature todis turb, have this principle in readines s , that the news is aboutnothing
which is within the power of your will. Can any man reportto you that you have
formed a bad opinion, or had a bad des ire? Byno means . But perhaps he will report
that s ome pers on is dead. Whatthen is that to you? He may report that s ome pers on
s peaks ill of you.What then is that to you? Or that your father is planning
s omething orother. Agains t whom? Agains t your will? How can he? But is itagains t
your poor body, agains t your little property? You are quites afe: it is not agains t
you. But the judge declares that you havecommitted an act of impiety. And did not
the judges make the s amedeclaration agains t Socrates ? D oes it concern you that the
judgehas made this declaration? No. Why then do you trouble yours elf anylonger
about it? Your father has a certain duty, and if he s hall notfulfill it, he los es
the character of a father, of a man of naturalaffection, of gentlenes s . D o not wis h
him to los e anything els e onthis account. For never does a man do wrong, in one
thing, ands uffer in another. On the other s ide it is your duty to make yourdefens e
firmly, modes tly, without anger: but if you do not, you als olos e the character of a
s on, of a man of modes t behavior, ofgenerous character. Well then, is the judge
free from danger? No;but he als o is in equal danger. Why then are you s till afraid
of his decis ion? What have you to do with that which is another man's evil?It is
your own evil to make a bad defens e: be on your guard agains tthis only. But to be
condemned or not to be condemned, as that is the act of another pers on, s o it is the
evil of another pers on. "Acertain pers on threatens you." Me? No. "He blames you."
Let him s eehow he manages his own affairs . "He is going to condemn you unjus tly."He
is a wretched man. CHAPTER 19 What is the condition of a common kind of man and
of a philos opher The firs t difference between a common pers on and a philos opher is
this : the common pers on s ays , "Woe to me for my little child, for mybrother, for my
father." The philos opher, if he s hall ever becompelled to s ay, "Woe to me," s tops
and s ays , "but for mys elf." Fornothing which is independent of the will can hinder
or damage thewill, and the will can only hinder or damage its elf. If, then, we
ours elves incline in this direction, s o as , when we are unlucky, toblame ours elves
and to remember that nothing els e is the caus e ofperturbation or los s of
tranquillity except our own opinion, I s wearto you by all the gods that we have
made progres s . But in thepres ent s tate of affairs we have gone another way from the
beginning. For example, while we were s till children, the nurs e, if weever s tumbled
through want of care, did not chide us , but would beatthe s tone. But what did the
s tone do? Ought the s tone to have moved onaccount of your child's folly? Again, if
we find nothing to eat oncoming out of the bath, the pedagogue never checks our
appetite, buthe flogs the cook. Man, did we make you the pedagogue of the cookand
not of the child? Correct the child, improve him. In this way evenwhen we are grown
up we are like children. For he who is unmus icalis a child in mus ic; he who is
without letters is a child in learning:he who is untaught, is a child in life.
CHAPTER 2 0 That we can derive advantage from all external things In the cas e of
appearances , which are objects of the vis ion,nearly all have allowed the good and
the evil to be in ours elves ,and not in externals . No one gives the name of good to
the fact thatit is day, nor bad to the fact that it is night, nor the name of the
greates t evil to the opinion that three are four. But what do men s ay?They s ay that
knowledge is good, and that error is bad; s o that evenin res pect to fals ehood
its elf there is a good res ult, the knowledgethat it is fals ehood. So it ought to be
in life als o. "Is health agood thing, and is s icknes s a bad thing" No, man. "But
what is it?" Tobe healthy, and healthy in a right way, is good: to be healthy in a
bad way is bad; s o that it is pos s ible to gain advantage even froms icknes s , I
declare. For is it not pos s ible to gain advantage evenfrom death, and is it not
pos s ible to gain advantage frommutilation? D o you think that Menoeceus gained
little by death? "Coulda man who s ays s o, gain s o much as Menoeceus gained?" Come,
man, didhe not maintain the character of being a lover of his country, a manof
great mind, faithful, generous ? And if he had continued to live,would he not have
los t all thes e things ? would he not have gainedthe oppos ite? would he not have
gained the name of coward, ignoble,a hater of his country, a man who feared death?
Well, do you thinkthat he gained little by dying? "I s uppos e not." But did the
father ofAdmetus gain much by prolonging his life s o ignobly and mis erably? D idhe
not die afterward? Ceas e, I adjure you by the gods , to admirethings . Ceas e to make
yours elves s laves , firs t of things , then onaccount of things s laves of thos e who
are able to give them or takethem away. "Can advantage then be derived from thes e
things ." From all; andfrom him who abus es you. Wherein does the man who exercis es
before thecombat profit the athlete? Very greatly. This man becomes my exercis er
before the combat: he exercis es me in endurance, in keeping my temper,in mildnes s .
You s ay no: but he, who lays hold of my neck anddis ciplines my loins and s houlders ,
does me good; and the exercis emas ter does right when he s ays : "Rais e him up with
both hands , and theheavier he is , s o much the more is my advantage." But if a man
exercis es me in keeping my, temper, does he not do good? This is notknowing how to
gain an advantage from men. "Is my neighbour bad?"Bad to hims elf, but good to me:
he exercis es my good dis pos ition, mymoderation. "Is my father bad?" Bad to hims elf,
but to me good. This is the rod of Hermes : "Touch with it what you pleas e," as the
s ayingis . "and it will be of gold." I s ay not s o: but bring what you pleas e,and I
will make it good. Bring dis eas e, bring death, bring poverty,bring abus e, bring
trial on capital charges : all thes e things through the rod of Hermes s hall be made
profitable. "What will youdo with death?" Why, what els e than that it s hall do you
honour, orthat it s hall s how you by act through it, what a man is who follows the
will of nature? "What will you do with dis eas e?" I will s how its nature, I will be
cons picuous in, it, I will be firm, I will be happy,I will not flatter the
phys ician, I will not wis h to die. What els e doyou s eek? Whatever you s hall give
me, I will make it happy, fortunate,honoured, a thing which a man s hall s eek. You
s ay No: but take care that you do not fall s ick: it is a badthing." This is the
s ame as if you s hould s ay, "Take care that younever receive the impres s ion that
three are four: that is bad." Man,how is it bad? If I think about it as I ought,
how s hall it, then,do me any damage? and s hall it not even do me good? If, then, I
think about poverty as I ought to do, about dis eas e, about nothaving office, is not
that enough for me? will it not be an advantage?How, then, ought I any longer to
look to s eek evil and good inexternals ? What happens thes e doctrines are maintained
here, but noman carries them away home; but immediately every one is at war withhis
s lave, with his neighbours , with thos e who have s neered at him,with thos e who have
ridiculed him. Good luck to Les bius , who dailyproves that I know nothing. CHAPTER
2 1 Agains t thos e who readily come to the profes s ion of s ophis ts They who have
taken up bare theorems immediately wis h to vomitthem forth, as pers ons whos e
s tomach is dis eas ed do with food. Firs tdiges t the thing, then do not vomit it up
thus : f you do not diges tit, the thing become truly an emetic, a crude food and
unfit to eat.But after diges tion s how us s ome chance in your ruling faculty, as
athletes s how in their s houlders by what they have been exercis edand what they have
eaten; as thos e who have taken up certain arts s howby what they have learned. The
carpenter does not come and s ay,"Hear
me talk about the carpenter's art"; but having undertaken tobuild a hous e, he
makes it, and proves that he knows the art. You als oought to do s omething of the
kind; eat like a man, drink like a man,dres s , marry, beget children, do the office
of a citizen, endureabus e, bear unreas onable brother, bear with your father, bear
withyour s on, neighbour, compas s ion. Show us thes e things that we mays ee that you
have in truth learned s omething from the philos ophers .You s ay, "No, but come and
hear me read commentaries ." Go away, ands eek s omebody to vomit them on. "And indeed
I will expound to youthe writings of Chrys ippus as no other man can: I will explain
his text mos t clearly: I will add als o, if I can, the vehemence ofAntipater and
Archedemus ." Is it, then, for this that young men s hall leave their country and
their parents , that they may come to this place, and hear youexplain words ? Ought
they not to return with a capacity to endure,to be active in as s ociation with
others , free from pas s ions , free fromperturbation, with s uch a provis ion for the
journey of life with whichthey s hall be able to bear well the things that happen
and derivehonour from them? And how can you give them any of thes e things which you
do not pos s es s ? Have you done from the beginning anythingels e than employ yours elf
about the res olution of Syllogis ms , ofs ophis tical arguments , and in thos e which
work by ques tions ? "But s ucha man has a s chool; why s hould not I als o have a
s chool?" Thes e things are not done, man, in a careles s way, nor jus t as it may
happen; butthere mus t be a (fit) age and life and God as a guide. You s ay,"No." But
no man s ails from a port without having s acrificed to theGods and invoked their
help; nor do men s ow without having called onD emeter; and s hall a man who has
undertaken s o great a workundertake it s afely without the Gods ? and s hall they who
undertakethis work come to it with s ucces s ? What els e are you doing, man,than
divulging the mys teries ? You s ay, "There is a temple atEleus is , and one here als o.
There is an Hierophant at Eleus is , and Ials o will make an Hierophant: there is a
herald, and I willes tablis h a herald; there is a torch-bearer at Eleus is , and I
als owill es tablis h a torch-bearer; there are torches at Eleus is , and Iwill have
torches here. The words are the s ame: how do the things donehere differ from thos e
done there?" Mos t impious man, is there nodifference? thes e things are done both in
due place and in due time;and when accompanied with s acrifice and prayers , when a
man is firs tpurified, and when he is dis pos ed in his mind to the thought that heis
going to approach s acred rites and ancient rites . In this way themys teries are
us eful, in this way we come to the notion that all thes ethings were es tablis hed by
the ancients for the ins truction andcorrection of life. But you publis h and divulge
them out of time,out of place, without s acrifices , without purity; you have not the
garments which the hierophant ought to have, nor the hair, nor thehead-dres s , nor
the voice, nor the age; nor have you purified yours elfas he has : but you have
committed to memory the words only, and yous ay: "Sacred are the words by
thems elves ." You ought to approach thes e matters in another way; the thing is
great, it is mys tical, not a common thing, nor is it given to everyman. But not
even wis dom perhaps is enough to enable a man to takecare of youths : a man mus t
have als o a certain readines s and fitnes s for this purpos e, and a certain quality of
body, and above allthings he mus t have God to advis e him to occupy this office, as
Godadvis ed Socrates to occupy the place of one who confutes error,D iogenes the
office of royalty and reproof, and the office of teachingprecepts . But you open a
doctor's s hop, though you have nothing exceptphys ic: but where and how they s hould
be applied, you know not norhave you taken any trouble about it. "See," that man
s ays , "I too haves alves for the eyes ." Have you als o the power of us ing them? D o
youknow both when and how they will do good, and to whom they will dogood? Why then
do you act at hazard in things of the greates timportance? why are you careles s ? why
do you undertake a thing that is in no way fit for you? Leave it to thos e who are
able to do it, and todo it well. D o not yours elf bring dis grace on philos ophy
throughyour own acts , and be not one of thos e who load it with a badreputation. But
if theorems pleas e you, s it s till and turn them overby yours elf; but never s ay that
you are a philos opher, nor allowanother to s ay it; but s ay: "He is mis taken, for
neither are mydes ires different from what they were before, nor is my activity
directed to other objects , nor do I as s ent to other things , nor in theus e of
appearances have I altered at all from my former condition."This you mus t think and
s ay about yours elf, if you would think as you ought: if not, act at hazard, and do
what you are doing; for itbecomes you. CHAPTER 2 2 About cynicis m When one of his
pupils inquired of Epictetus , and he was a pers onwho appeared to be inclined to
Cynis m, what kind of pers on a Cynicought to be and what was the notion of the
thing, We will inquire,s aid Epictetus , at leis ure: but I have s o much to s ay to you
that hewho without God attempts s o great a matter, is hateful to God, and has no
other purpos e than to act indecently in public. For in anywell-managed hous e no man
comes forward, and s ays to hims elf, "I oughtto be manager of the hous e." If he does
s o, the mas ter turns roundand, s eeing him ins olently giving orders , drags him forth
and flogs him. So it is als o in this great city; for here als o there is a mas terof
the hous e who orders everything. "You are the s un; you can by goinground make the
year and s eas ons , and make the fruits grow andnouris h them, and s tir the winds and
make them remit, and warm thebodies of men properly: go, travel round, and s o
adminis ter things from the greates t to the leas t." "You are a calf; when a lion
s hallappear, do your proper bus ines s : if you do not, you will s uffer." "Youare a
bull: advance and fight, for this is your bus ines s , andbecomes you, and you can do
it." "You can lead the army agains tIllium; be Agamemnon." "You can fight in s ingle
combat agains t Hector:be Achilles ." But if Thers ites came forward and claimed the
command,he would either not have obtained it; or, if he did obtain it, hewould have
dis graced hims elf before many witnes s es . D o you als o think about the matter
carefully: it is not what its eems to you. "I wear a cloak now and I s hall wear it
then: I s leephard now, and I s hall s leep hard then: I will take in addition alittle
bag now and a s taff, and I will go about and begin to beg andto abus e thos e whom I
meet; and if I s ee any man plucking the hair outof his body, I will rebuke him, or
if he has dres s ed his hair, or ifhe walks about in purple." If you imagine the
thing to be s uch as this , keep far away from it: do not approach it: it is not at
allfor you. But if you imagine it to be what it is , and do not thinkyours elf to be
unfit for it, cons ider what a great thing youundertake. In the firs t place in the
things which relate to yours elf, youmus t not be in any res pect like what you do
now: you mus t not blameGod or man: you mus t take away des ire altogether, you mus t
trans feravoidance only to the things which are within the power of the will:you
mus t not feel anger nor res entment nor envy nor pity; a girlmus t not appear
hands ome to you, nor mus t you love a littlereputation, nor be pleas ed with a boy or
a cake. For you ought to knowthat the res t of men throw walls around them and
hous es and darknes s when they do any s uch things , and they have many means of
concealment.A man s huts the door, he s ets s omebody before the chamber: if a pers on
comes , s ay that he is out, he is not at leis ure. But the Cynic ins teadof all thes e
things mus t us e modes ty as his protection: if he does not, he will he indecent in
his nakednes s and under the open s ky. This is his hous e, his door: this is the s lave
before his bedchamber:this is his darknes s . For he ought not to wis h to hide
anything thathe does : and if he does , he is gone, he has los t the character of a
Cynic, of a man who lives under the open s ky, of a free man: he has begun to fear
s ome external thing, he has begun to have need ofconcealment, nor can he get
concealment when he choos es . For wheres hall he hide hims elf and how? And if by
chance this public ins tructors hall be detected, this pedagogue, what kind of things
will he becompelled to s uffer? when then a man fears thes e things , is itpos s ible
for him to be bold with his whole s oul to s uperintend men? Itcannot be: it is
impos s ible. In the firs t place, then, you mus t make your ruling faculty pure,and
this mode of life als o. "Now, to me the matter to work on is myunders tanding, as
wood is to the carpenter, as hides to the s hoemaker;and my bus ines s is the right
us e of appearances . But the body is nothing to me: the parts of it are nothing to
me. D eath? Let it comewhen it choos es , either death of the whole or of a part. Fly,
you s ay.And whither; can any man eject me out of the world? He cannot. Butwherever
I ever I go, there is the s un, there is the moon, there arethe s tars , dreams ,
omens , and the convers ation with Gods ." Then, if he is thus prepared, the true
Cynic cannot be s atis fiedwith this ; but he mus t know that he is s ent a mes s enger
from Zeus tomen about good and bad things , to s how them that they have wanderedand
are s eeking the s ubs tance of good and evil where it is not, butwhere it is , they
never think; and that he is a s py, as D iogenes was carried off to Philip after the
battle of Chaeroneia as a s py. For, infact, a Cynic is a s py of the things which
are good for men andwhich are evil, and it is his duty to examine carefully and to
comeand
report truly, and not to be s truck with terror s o as to pointout as enemies thos e
who are not enemies , nor in any other way to beperturbed by appearances nor
confounded. It is his duty, then, to he able with a loud voice, if theoccas ion
s hould aris e, and appearing on the tragic s tage to s ay likeSocrates : "Men, whither
are you hurrying, what are you doing,wretches ? like blind people you are wandering
up and down: you aregoing by another road, and have left the true road: you s eek
forpros perity and happines s where they are not, and if another s hows you where they
are, you do not believe him." Why do you s eek itwithout? In the body? It is not
there. If you doubt, look at Myro,look at Ophellius . In pos s es s ions ? It is not
there. But if you donot believe me, look at Croes us : look at thos e who are now
rich,with what lamentations their life is filled. In power? It is notthere. If it
is , thos e mus t be happy who have been twice and thricecons uls ; but they are not.
Whom s hall we believe in thes e matters ? youwho from without s ee their affairs and
are dazzled by an appearance,or the men thems elves ? What do they s ay? Hear them
when they groan,when they grieve, when on account of thes e very cons uls hips and
glory and s plendour they think that they are more wretched and ingreater danger. Is
it in royal power? It is not: if it were, Nerowould have been happy, and
Sardanapalus . But neither was Agamemnonhappy, though he was a better man than
Sardanapalus and Nero; butwhile others are s noring what is he doing? "Much from
his head he tore his rooted hair."And what does he s ay hims elf? "I am
perplexed," he s ays , "and D is turb'd I am," and "my heart out of my bos om Is
leaping."Wretch, which of your affairs goes badly? Your pos s es s ions ? No. Yourbody?
No. But you are rich in gold and copper. What then is the matterwith you? That part
of you, whatever it is , has been neglected byyou and is corrupted, the part with
which we des ire, with which weavoid, with which we move toward and move from
things . Howneglected? He knows not the nature of good for which he is made bynature
and the nature of evil; and what is his own, and what belongs to another; and when
anything that belongs to others goes badly, hes ays , "Woe to me, for the Hellenes
are in dancer." Wretched is his ruling faculty, and alone neglected and uncared for.
"The Hellenes aregoing to die des troyed by the Trojans ." And if the Trojans do not
killthem, will they not die? "Yes ; but not all at once." Whatdifference, then, does
it make? For if death is an evil, whether mendie altogether, or if they die s ingly,
it is equally an evil. Is anything els e then going to happen than the s eparation of
the s oul andthe body? Nothing. And if the Hellenes peris h, is the door clos ed, and
is it not in your power to die? "It is ." Why then do you lament "Oh,you who are a
king and have the s ceptre of Zeus ?" An unhappy king does not exis t more than an
unhappy god. What then art thou? In truth as hepherd: for you weep as s hepherds do,
when a wolf has carried offone of their s heep: and thes e who are governed by you
are s heep. Andwhy did you come hither? Was your des ire in any danger? was your
avers ion? was your movement? was your avoidance of things ? He replies ,"No; but the
wife of my brother was carried off." Was it not then agreat gain to be deprived of
an adulterous wife? "Shall we bedes pis ed, then, by the Trojans ?" What kind of
people are theTrojans , wis e or foolis h? If they are wis e, why do you fight with
them? If they are fools , why do you care about them. In what, then, is the good,
s ince it is not in thes e things ? Tellus , you who are lord, mes s enger and s py. Where
you do not think thatit is , nor choos e to s eek it: for if you chos e to s eek it, you
wouldhave found it to he in yours elves ; nor would you be wandering out ofthe way,
nor s eeking what belongs to others as if it were your own.Turn your thoughts into
yours elves : obs erve the preconceptions whichyou have. What kind of a thing do you
imagine the good to be? "Thatwhich flows eas ily, that which is happy, that which is
not impeded."Come, and do you not naturally imagine it to be great, do you not
imagine it to be valuable? do you not imagine it to be free from harm?In what
material then ought you to s eek for that which flows eas ily,for that which is not
impeded? in that which s erves or in that whichis free? "In that which is free." D o
you pos s es s the body, then,free or is it in s ervile condition? "We do not know." D o
you notknow that it is the s lave of fever, of gout, ophthalmia, dys entery, ofa
tyrant, of fire, of iron, of everything which is s tronger? Yes , itis a s lave." How,
then, is it pos s ible that anything which belongs to the body can be free from
hindrance? and how is a thing great orvaluable which is naturally dead, or earth,
or mud? Well then, doyou pos s es s nothing which is free? "Perhaps nothing." And who
is able to compel you to as s ent to that which appears fals e? "No man."And who can
compel you not to as s ent to that which appears true? "Noman." By this , then, you
s ee that there is s omething in younaturally free. But to des ire or to be avers e
from, or to movetoward an object or to move from it, or to prepare yours elf, or to
propos e to do anything, which of you can do this , unles s he has received an
impres s ion of the appearance of that which is profitableor a duty? "No man." You
have, then, in thes e thongs als o s omethingwhich is not hindered and is free.
Wretched men, work out this , takecare of this , s eek for good here. "And how is it
pos s ible that a man who has nothing, who is naked,hous eles s , without a hearth,
s qualid, without a s lave, without a city,can pas s a life that flows eas ily?" See,
God has s ent you a man tos how you that it is pos s ible. "Look at me, who am without
a city,without a hous e, without pos s es s ions , without a s lave; I s leep onthe ground;
I have no wife, no children; no praetorium, but only theearth and heavens , and one
poor cloak. And what do I want? Am I notwithout s orrow? am I not without fear? Am I
not free? When did anyof you s ee me failing in the object of my des ire? or ever
falling intothat which I would avoid? did I ever blame God or man? did I everaccus e
any man? did any of you ever s ee me with s orrowful countenance?And how do I meet
with thos e whom you are afraid of and admire? D o notI treat them like s laves ? Who,
when he s ees me, does not think that hes ees his king and mas ter?" This is the
language of the Cynics , this their character, this is their purpos e. You s ay "No":
but their characteris tic is the littlewallet, and s taff, and great jaws : the
devouring of all that yougive them, or s toring it up, or the abus ing uns eas onably
all whom theymeet, or dis playing their s houlder as a fine thing. D o you s ee howyou
are going, to undertake s o great a bus ines s ? Firs t take amirror: look at your
s houlders ; obs erve your loins , your thighs . Youare going, my man, to be enrolled as
a combatant in the Olympic games ,no frigid and mis erable contes t. In the Olympic
games a man is notpermitted to be conquered only and to take his departure; but
firs t hemus t be dis graced in the s ight of all the world, not in the s ight of
Athenians only, or of Lacedaemonians or of Nicopolitans ; next hemus t be whipped
als o if he has entered into the contes ts ras hly: andbefore being whipped, he mus t
s uffer thirs t and heat, and s wallow muchdus t. Reflect more carefully, know
thys elf, cons ult the divinity,without God attempt nothing; for if he s hall advis e
you, be as s uredthat he intends you to become great or to receive many blows . For
this very amus ing quality is conjoined to a Cynic: he mus t be floggedlike an as s ,
and when he is flogged, he mus t love thos e who floghim, as if he were the father of
all, and the brother of all. Yous ay "No"; but if a man flogs you, s tand in the
public place and callout, "Caes ar, what do I s uffer in this s tate of peace under
thyprotection? Let us bring the offender before the procons ul." Butwhat is Caes ar
to a Cynic, or what is a procons ul, or what is anyother except him who s ent the
Cynic down hither, and whom he s erves ,namely Zeus ? D oes he call upon any other than
Zeus ? Is he notconvinced that, whatever he s uffers , it is Zeus who is exercis ing
him?Hercules when he was exercis ed by Eurys theus did not think that he was wretched,
but without hes itation he attempted to execute all that hehad in hand. And is he
who is trained to the contes t and exercis edby Zeus going to call out and to be
vexed, he who is worthy to bearthe s ceptre of D iogenes ? Hear what D iogenes s ays to
the pas s ers -bywhen he is in a fever, "Mis erable wretches , will you not s tay? but
areyou going s o long a journey to Olympia to s ee the des truction or thefight of
athletes ; and will you not choos e to s ee the combat between afever and a man?"
Would s uch a man accus e God who s ent him down as if God were treating him
unworthily, a man who gloried in his circums tances , and claimed to be an example to
thos e who werepas s ing by? For what s hall he accus e him of? becaus e he maintains a
decency of behavior, becaus e he dis plays his virtue morecons picuous ly? Well, and
what does he s ay of poverty, about death,about pain? How did he compare his own
happines s with that of theGreat King? or rather he thought that there was no
comparis onbetween them. For where there are perturbations , and griefs , andfears ,
and des ires not s atis fied, and avers ions of things which youcannot avoid, and
envies and jealous ies , how is there a road tohappines s there? But where there are
corrupt principles , there thes ethings mus t of neces s ity be. When the young man
as ked, if when a Cynic is s ick, and a friend as ks him to come to his hous e and be
taken care of in his s icknes s , s hallthe Cynic accept the invitation, he replied:
And where s hall you find,I
as k, a Cynic's friend? For the man who invites ought to be s uchanother as the that
he may be worthy of being reckoned the Cynic's friend. He ought to be a partner in
the Cynic's s ceptre and his royalty, and a worthy minis ter, if he intends to be
cons ideredworthy of a Cynic's friends hip, as D iogenes was a friend ofAntis thenes ,
as Crates was a friend of D iogenes . D o you think that, ifa man comes to a Cynic and
s alutes him, he is the Cynic's friend,and that the Cynic will think him worthy of
receiving a Cynic into his hous e? So that, if you pleas e, reflect on this als o:
rather look roundfor s ome convenient dunghill on which you s hall bear your fever
andwhich will s helter you from the north wind that you may not bechilled. But you
s eem to me to wis h to go into s ome man's hous e and tobe well fed there for a time.
Why then do you think of attempting s ogreat a thing? "But," s aid the young man,
"s hall marriage and the procreation ofchildren as a chief duty be undertaken by the
Cynic?" If you grantme a community of wis e men, Epictetus replies , perhaps no man
willreadily apply hims elf to the Cynic practice. For on whos e accounts hould he
undertake this manner of life? However if we s uppos e that hedoes , nothing will
prevent him from marrying and begetting children;for his wife will be another like
hims elf, and his father-in-lawanother like hims elf, and his children will be
brought up likehims elf. But in the pres ent s tate of things which is like that of an
army placed in battle order, is it not fit that the Cynic s houldwithout any
dis traction be employed only on the adminis tration of God,able to go about among
men, not tied down to the common duties ofmankind, nor entangled in the ordinary
relations of life, which ifhe neglects , he will not maintain the character of an
honourable andgood man? and if he obs erves them he will los e the character of the
mes s enger, and s py and herald of God. For cons ider that it is his dutyto do
s omething toward his father-in-law, s omething to the otherkins folk of his wife,
s omething to his wife als o. He is als oexcluded by being a Cynic from looking after
the s icknes s of his ownfamily, and from providing for their s upport. And, to s ay
nothing ofthe res t, he mus t have a ves s el for heating water for the child thathe
may was h it in the bath; wool for his wife when s he is delivered ofa child, oil, a
bed, a cup: s o the furniture of the hous e is increas ed. I s ay nothing of his other
occupations and of his dis traction. Where, then, now is that king, he who devotes
hims elfto the public interes ts , The people's guardian and s o full of cares .
whos e duty it is to look after others , the married and thos e whohave children; to
s ee who us es his wife well, who us es her badly;who quarrels ; what family is well
adminis tered, what is not; goingabout as a phys ician does and feels puls es ? He s ays
to one, "Youhave a fever," to another, "You have a headache, or the gout": he s ays
to one, "Abs tain from food"; to another he s ays , "Eat"; or "D o not us ethe bath"; to
another, "You require the knife, or the cautery." Howcan he have time for this who
is tied to the duties of common life? is it not his duty to s upply clothing to his
children, and to s end themto the s choolmas ter with writing tablets , and s tyles .
Bes ides , mus t henot s upply them with beds ? for they cannot be genuine Cynics as
s oonas they are born. If he does not do this , it would be better to expos ethe
children as s oon as they are born than to kill them in this way.Cons ider what we
are bringing the Cynic down to, how we are taking his royalty from him. "Yes , but
Crates took a wife." You are s peaking of acircums tance which aros e from love and of
a woman who was anotherCrates . But we are inquiring about ordinary marriages and
thos ewhich are free from dis tractions , and making this inquiry we do notfind the
affair of marriage in this s tate of the world a thing whichis es pecially s uited to
the Cynic. "How, then, s hall a man maintain the exis tence of s ociety?" In thename
of God, are thos e men greater benefactors to s ociety whointroduce into the world to
occupy their own places two or threegrunting children, or thos e who s uperintend as
far as they can allmankind, and s ee what they do, how they live, what they attend
to,what they neglect contrary to their duty? D id they who left littlechildren to
the Thebans do them more good than Epaminondas who diedchildles s ? And did Priamus ,
who begat fifty worthles s s ons , orD anaus or AEolus contribute more to the community
than Homer? thens hall the duty of a general or the bus ines s of a writer exclude a
man from marriage or the begetting of children, and s uch a man s hallnot be judged
to have accepted the condition of childles s nes s fornothing; and s hall not the
royalty of a Cynic be cons idered anequivalent for the want of children? D o we not
perceive his grandeurand do we not jus tly contemplate the character of D iogenes ;
and do we,ins tead of this , turn our eyes to the pres ent Cynics , who are dogs that
wait at tables and in no res pect imitate the Cynics of old exceptperchance in
breaking wind, but in nothing els e? For s uch matters would not have moved us at all
nor s hould we have wondered if aCynic s hould not marry or beget children. Man, the
Cynic is the fatherof all men; the men are his s ons , the women are his daughters :
he s ocarefully vis its all, s o well does he care for all. D o you thinkthat it is
from idle impertinence that he rebukes thos e whom he meets ?He does it as a father,
as a brother, and as the minis ter of thefather of all, the minis ter of Zeus . If
you pleas e, as k me als o if a Cynic s hall engage in theadminis tration of the s tate.
Fool, do you s eek a greater form ofadminis tration than that in which he is engaged?
D o you as k if hes hall appear among the Athenians and s ay s omething about the
revenues and the s upplies , he who mus t talk with all men, alike withAthenians ,
alike with Corinthians , alike with Romans , not abouts upplies , nor yet about
revenues , nor about peace or war, but abouthappines s and unhappines s , about good
fortune and bad fortune, abouts lavery and freedom? When a man has undertaken the
adminis tration ofs uch a s tate, do you as k me if he s hall engage in the
adminis trationof a s tate? as k me als o if he s hall govern: again I will s ay to you:
Fool, what greater government s hall he exercis e than that which heexercis es now?
It is neces s ary als o for s uch a man to have a certain habit of body:for if he
appears to be cons umptive, thin and pale, his tes timonyhas not then the s ame
weight. For he mus t not only by s howing thequalities of the s oul prove to the
vulgar that it is in his powerindependent of the things which they admire to be a
good man, but hemus t als o s how by his body that his s imple and frugal way of living
inthe open air does not injure even the body. "See," he s ays , "I am aproof of this ,
and my own body als o is ." So D iogenes us ed to do, forhe us ed to go about fres h-
looking, and he attracted the notice ofthe many by his pers onal appearance. But if
a Cynic is an object ofcompas s ion, he s eems to a beggar: all pers ons turn away from
him,all are offended with him; for neither ought he to appear dirty s othat he s hall
not als o in this res pect drive away men; but his veryroughnes s ought to be clean
and attractive. There ought als o to belong to the Cynic much natural grace and
s harpnes s ; and if this is not s o, he is a s tupid fellow, and nothingels e; and he
mus t have thes e qualities that he may be able readily andfitly to be a match for
all circums tances that may happen. So D iogenes replied to one who s aid, "Are you the
D iogenes who does not believethat there are gods ?" "And, how," replied D iogenes ,
"can this bewhen I think that you are odious to the gods ?" On another occas ionin
reply to Alexander, who s tood by him when he was s leeping, andquoted Homer's line,
A man a councilor s hould not s leep all night,he ans wered, when he was half-as leep,
The people's guardian and s o full of cares . But before all the Cynic's ruling
faculty mus t be purer than thes un; and, if it is not, he mus t be a cunning knave
and a fellow ofno principle, s ince while he hims elf is entangled in s ome vice he
willreprove others . For s ee how the matter s tands : to thes e kings andtyrants their
guards and arms give the power of reproving s omepers ons , and of being able even to
punis h thos e who do wrong thoughthey are thems elves bad; but to a Cynic ins tead of
arms and guards it is cons cience which gives this power. When he knows that be has
watched and labored for mankind, and has s lept pure, and s leep has left him s till
purer, and that he thought whatever he has thought as afriend of the gods , as a
minis ter, as a participator of the power ofZeus , and that on all occas ions he is
ready to s ay Lead me, O Zeus , and thou O D es tiny;and als o, "If s o it pleas es
the gods , s o let it be"; why s hould he nothave confidence to s peak freely to his
own brothers , to his children, in a word to his kins men? For this reas on he is
neitherovercurious nor a bus ybody when he is in this s tate of mind: for he is not a
meddler with the affairs of others when he is s uperintendinghuman affairs , but he
is looking after his own affairs . If that is nots o, you may als o s ay that the
general is a bus ybody, when heins pects his s oldiers , and examines them, and watches
them, andpunis hes the dis orderly. But if, while you have a cake under your arm,you
rebuke others , I will s ay to you: "Will you not rather go awayinto a corner and eat
that which you have s tolen"; what have you to dowith the affairs of others ? For who
are you? are you the bull of theherd, or the queen of the bees ? Show me the tokens
of yours upremacy, s uch as they have from nature. But if you are a droneclaiming the
s overeignty over the bees , do you not s uppos e that yourfellow
citizens will put you down as the bees do the drones ? The Cynic als o ought to
have s uch power of endurance as to s eemins ens ible to the common s ort and a s tone:
no man reviles him, noman s trikes him, no man ins ults him, but he gives his body
that anyman who choos es may do with it what he likes . For he bears in mindthat the
inferior mus t be overpowered by the s uperior in that in whichit is inferior; and
the body is inferior to the many, the weaker tothe s tronger. He never then des cends
into s uch a contes t in which hecan be overpowered; but he immediately withdraws
from things whichbelong to others , he claims not the things which are s ervile.
wherethere is will and the us e of appearances , there you will s ee howmany eyes he
has s o that you may s ay, "Argus was blind compared withhim." Is his as s ent ever
has ty, his movement ras h, does his des ireever fall in its object, does that which
he would avoid befall him, is his purpos e unaccomplis hed, does he ever find fault,
is he everhumiliated, is he ever envious ? To thes e he directs all his attention and
energy; but as to everything els e he s nores s upine.All is peace; there is no robber
who takes away his will, no tyrant.But what s ay you as to his body? I s ay there is .
And as tomagis tracies and honours ? What does he care for them? When then anypers on
would frighten him through them, he s ays to him, "Begone,look for children: mas ks
are formidable to them; but I know thatthey are made of s hell, and they have
nothing ins ide." About s uch a matter as this you are deliberating. Therefore, if
you pleas e, I urge you in God's name, defer the matter, and firs tcons ider your
preparation for it. For s ee what Hector s ays toAndromache, "Retire rather," he
s ays , "into the hous e and weave: War is the work of men Of all indeed, but
s pecially 'tis mine.So he was cons cious of his own qualification, and knew her
weaknes s . CHAPTER 2 3 To thos e who read and dis cus s for the s ake of os tentation
Firs t s ay to yours elf, who you wis h to be: then do accordinglywhat you are doing;
for in nearly all other things we s ee this to bes o. Thos e who follow athletic
exercis es firs t determine what they wis hto be, then do accordingly what follows . If
a man is a runner in thelong cours e, there is a certain kind of diet, of walking,
rubbingand exercis e: if a man is a runner in the s tadium, all thes e things are
different; if he is a Pentathlete, they are s till moredifferent. So you will find
it als o in the arts . If you are acarpenter, you will have s uch and s uch things : if
a worker in metal,s uch things . For everything that we do, if we refer it to no end,
wes hall do it to no purpos e; and if we refer it to the wrong end, wes hall mis s the
mark. Further, there is a general end or purpos e, and aparticular purpos e. Firs t of
all, we mus t act as a man. What is comprehended in this ? We mus t not be like a
s heep, though gentle,nor mis chievous , like a wild beas t. But the particular cud has
reference to each pers on's mode of life and his will. Thelute-player acts as a
lute-player, the carpenter as a carpenter, thephilos opher as a philos opher, the
rhetorician as a rhetorician. Whenthen you s ay, "Come and hear me read to you":
take care firs t of allthat you are not doing this without a purpos e; then, if you
havedis covered that you are doing this with reference to a purpos e,cons ider if it
is the right purpos e. D o you wis h to do good or to beprais ed? Immediately you hear
him s aying, "To me what is the valueof prais e from the many?" and he s ays well, for
it is of no value to amus ician, s o far as he is a mus ician, nor to a geometrician.
D o youthen wis h to be us eful? in what? tell us that we may run to youraudience-
room. Now can a man do anything us eful to others , who has notreceived s omething
us eful hims elf? No, for neither can a man doanything us eful in the carpenter's art,
unles s he is a carpenter;nor in the s hoemaker's art, unles s he is a s hoemaker. D o
you wis h to know then if you have received any advantage? Produceyour opinions ,
philos opher. What is the thing which des ire promis es ?Not to fall in the object.
What does avers ion promis e? Not to fallinto that which you would avoid. Well; do we
fulfill their promis e?Tell me the truth; but if you lie, I will tell you. Lately
when yourhearers came together rather coldly, and did not give you applaus e,you
went away humbled. Lately again when you had been prais ed, youwent about and s aid
to all, "What did you think of me?" "Wonderful,mas ter, I s wear by all that is dear
to me." "But how did I treat ofthat particular matter?" "Which?" "The pas s age in
which I des cribedPan and the nymphs ?" "Excellently." Then do you tell me that in
des ireand in avers ion you are acting according to nature? Begone; try topers uade
s omebody els e. D id you not prais e a certain pers on contraryto your opinion? and did
you not flatter a certain pers on who was the s on of a s enator? Would you wis h your
own children to be s uchpers ons ? "I hope not." Why then did you prais e and flatter
him? "He is an ingenuous youth and lis tens well to dis cours es ." How is this ? "He
admires me." You have s tated your proof. Then what do you think? donot thes e very
people s ecretly des pis e you? When, then, a man who is cons cious that he has neither
done any good nor ever thinks of it,finds a philos opher who s ays , "You have a great
natural talent, andyou have a candid and good dis pos ition," what els e do you think
thathe s ays except this , "This man has s ome need of me?" Or tell me whatact that
indicates a, great mind has he s hown? Obs erve; he has been inyour company a long
time; he has lis tened to your dis cours es , he has heard you reading; has he become
more modes t? has he been turned toreflect on hims elf? has he perceived in what a
bad s tate he is ? has hecas t away s elf-conceit? does he look for a pers on to teach
him? "Hedoes ." A man who will teach him to live? No, fool, but how to talk;for it
is for this that he admires you als o. Lis ten and hear what hes ays : "This man writes
with perfect art, much better than D ion."This is altogether another thing. D oes he
s ay, "This man is modes t,faithful, free from perturbations ?" and even if he did s ay
it, Is hould s ay to him, "Since this man is faithful, tell me what this faithful man
is ." And if he could not tell me, I s hould add this ,"Firs t unders tand what you s ay,
then s peak." You, then, who are in a wretched plight and gaping after applaus eand
counting your auditors , do you intend to be us eful to others ?"To-day many more
attended my dis cours e." "Yes , many; we s uppos efive hundred." "That is nothing;
s uppos e that there were athous and." "D ion never had s o many hearers ." "How could
he?" "And theyunders tand what is s aid beautifully." "What is fine, mas ter, canmove
even a s tone." See, thes e are the words of a philos opher. This is the dis pos ition of
a man who will do good to others ; here is a man whohas lis tened to dis cours es , who
has read what is written aboutSocrates as Socratic, not as the compos itions of
Lys ias and Is ocrates ."I have often wondered by what arguments ." Not s o, but "by
whatargument": this is more exact than that. What, have you read the words at all in
a different way from that in which you read little odes ? Forif you read them as you
ought, you would not have been attending tos uch matters , but you would rather have
been looking to thes e words :"Anytus and Meletus are able to kill me, but they
cannot harm me": and"I am always of s uch a dis pos ition as to pay regard to nothing
of myown except to the reas on which on inquiry s eems to me the bes t." Hencewho ever
heard Socrates s ay, "I know s omething and I teach"; but heus ed to s end different
people to different teachers . Therefore theyus ed to come to him and as k to be
introduced to philos ophy by him; andhe would take them and recommend them. Not s o;
but as he accompaniedthem he would s ay, "Hear me to-day dis cours ing in the hous e of
Quadratus ." Why s hould I hear you? D o you wis h to s how me that you putwords
together cleverly? You put them together, man; and what goodwill it do you? "But
only prais e me." What do you mean by prais ing?"Say to me, "Admirable, wonderful."
Well, I s ay s o. But if that is prais e whatever it is which philos ophers mean by the
name of good,what have I to prais e in you? If it is good to s peak well, teach me,
and will prais e you. "What then? ought a man to lis ten to s uchthings without
pleas ure?" I hope not. For my part I do not lis ten evento a lute-player without
pleas ure. Mus t I then for this reas on s tandand play the lute? Hear what Socrates
s ays , "Nor would it be s eemlyfor a man of my age, like a young man compos ing
addres s es , to appearbefore you." "Like a young man," he s ays . For in truth this
s mallart is an elegant thing, to s elect words , and to put them together,and to come
forward and gracefully to read them or to s peak, and whilehe is reading to s ay,
"There are not many who can do thes e things , Is wear by all that you value." D oes a
philos opher invite people to hear him? As the s un hims elfdraws men to him, or as
food does , does not the philos opher als odraw to him thos e who will receive benefit?
What phys ician invites aman to be treated by him? Indeed I now hear that even the
phys icians in Rome do invite patients , but when I lived there, the phys icians were
invited. "I invite you to come and hear that things are in abad way for you, and
that you are taking care of everything exceptthat of which you ought to take care,
and that you are ignorant of thegood and the bad and are unfortunate and unhappy."
A fine kind ofinvitation: and yet if the words of the philos opher do not produce
this effect on you, he is dead, and s o is the s peaker. Rufus was us ed to s ay: "If
you have leis ure to prais e me, I am s peaking to nopurpos e." Accordingly he us ed to
s peak in s uch a way that every one ofus who
were s itting there s uppos ed that s ome one had accus ed himbefore Rufus : he s o
touched on what was doing, he s o placed before theeyes every man's faults . The
philos opher's s chool, ye men, is a s urgery: you ought not togo out of it with
pleas ure, but with pain. For you are not in s oundhealth when you enter: one has
dis located his s houlder, another has anabs ces s , a third a fis tula, and a fourth a
headache. Then do I s it andutter to you little thoughts and exclamations that you
may prais e meand go away, one with his s houlder in the s ame condition in which he
entered, another with his head s till aching, and a third with his fis tula or his
abs ces s jus t as they were? Is it for this then thatyoung men s hall quit home, and
leave their parents and their friends and kins men and property, that they may s ay to
you, "Wonderful! "when you are uttering your exclamations . D id Socrates do this , or
Zeno, or Cleanthes ? What then? is there not the hortatory s tyle? Who denies it? as
thereis the s tyle of refutation, and the didactic s tyle. Who, then, everreckoned a
fourth s tyle with thes e, the s tyle of dis play? What is the hortatory s tyle? To be
able to s how both to one pers on and to manythe s truggle in which they are engaged,
and that they think more aboutanything than about what they really wis h. For they
wis h the things which lead to happines s , but they look for them in the wrong place.
Inorder that this may be done, a thous and s eats mus t be placed and menmus t be
invited to lis ten, and you mus t as cend the pulpit in a finerobe or cloak and
des cribe the death of Achilles . Ceas e, I entreat youby the gods , to s poil good
words and good acts as much as you can.Nothing can have more power in exhortation
than when the s peaker s hows to the hearers that he has need of them. But tell me who
when he hears you reading or dis cours ing is anxious about hims elf or turns toreflect
on hims elf? or when he has gone out s ays , "The philos opher hitme well: I mus t no
longer do thes e things ." But does he not, even ifyou have a great reputation, s ay
to s ome pers on, "He s poke finelyabout Xerxes "; and another s ays , "No, but about the
battle ofThermopylae"? Is this lis tening to a philos opher? CHAPTER 2 4 That we
ought not to be moved by a des ire of thos e things whichare not in our power Let
not that which in another is contrary to nature be an evil toyou: for you are not
formed by nature to be depres s ed with others nor to be unhappy with others , but to
be happy with them. If a manis unhappy, remember that his unhappines s is his own
fault: for Godhas made all men to be happy, to be free from perturbations . Forthis
purpos e he has given means to them, s ome things to each pers on as his own, and other
things not as his own: s ome things s ubject tohindrance and compuls ion and
deprivation; and thes e things are not aman's own: but the things which are not
s ubject to hindrances arehis own; and the nature of good and evil, as it was fit to
be doneby him who takes care of us and protects us like a father, he has madeour
own. "But," you s ay, "I have parted from a certain pers on, and heis grieved." Why
did he cons ider as his own that which belongs toanother? why, when he looked on you
and was rejoiced, did he notals o reckon that you are mortal, that it is natural for
you to partfrom him for a foreign country? Therefore he s uffers thecons equences of
his own folly. But why do you or for what purpos ebewail yours elf? Is it that you
als o have not thought of thes e things ?but like poor women who are good for nothing,
you have enjoyed allthings in which you took pleas ure, as if you would always enjoy
them, both places and men and convers ation; and now you s it and weepbecaus e you do
not s ee the s ame pers ons and do not live in the s ameplaces . Indeed you des erve
this , to be more wretched than crows andravens who have the power of flying where
they pleas e and changingtheir nes ts for others , and cros s ing the s eas without
lamenting orregretting their former condition. "Yes , but this happens to them
becaus e they are irrational creatures ." Was reas on, then, given tous by the gods
for the purpos e of unhappines s and mis ery, that wemay pas s our lives in
wretchednes s and lamentation? Mus t all pers ons be immortal and mus t no man go
abroad, and mus t we ours elves not goabroad, but remain rooted like plants ; and, if
any of our familiarfriends go abroad, mus t we s it and weep; and, on the contrary,
when hereturns , mus t we dance and clap our hands like children? Shall we not now
wean ours elves and remember what we have heard fromthe philos ophers ? if we did not
lis ten to them as if they werejugglers : they tell us that this world is one city,
and thes ubs tance out of which it has been formed is one, and that theremus t be a
certain period, and that s ome things mus t give way toothers , that s ome mus t be
dis s olved, and others come in their place;s ome to remain in the s ame place, and
others to be moved; and that allthings are full of friends hip, firs t of the gods ,
and then of menwho by nature are made to be of one family; and s ome mus t be withone
another, and others mus t be s eparated, rejoicing in thos e whoare with them, and not
grieving for thos e who are removed from them;and man in addition to being by nature
of a noble temper and havinga contempt of all things which are not in the power of
his will,als o pos s es s es this property, not to be rooted nor to be naturallyfixed to
the earth, but to go at different times to differentplaces , s ometimes from the
urgency of certain occas ions , and at others merely for the s ake of s eeing. So it was
with Ulys s es , who s aw Of many men the s tates , and learned their ways .And s till
earlier it was the fortune of Hercules to vis it all theinhabited world Seeing
men's lawles s deeds and their good rules of law:cas ting out and clearing away their
lawles s nes s and introducing intheir place good rules of law. And yet how many
friends do you thinkthat he had in Thebes , how many in Argos , how many in Athens ?
andhow many do you think that he gained by going about? And he marriedals o, when it
s eemed to him a proper occas ion, and begot children, andleft them without lamenting
or regretting or leaving them as orphans ; for he knew that no man is an orphan; but
it is the fatherwho takes care of all men always and continuous ly. For it was not
as mere report that he had heard that Zeus is the father of for hethought that Zeus
was his own father, and he called him s o, and to himhe looked when he was doing
what he did. Therefore he was enabled tolive happily in all places . And it is never
pos s ible for happines s anddes ire of what is not pres ent to come together. that
which is happymus t have all that des ires , mus t res emble a pers on who is filledwith
food, and mus t have neither thirs t nor hunger. "But Ulys s es felt a des ire for his
wife and wept as he s at on a rock." D o youattend to Homer and his s tories in
everything? Or if Ulys s es reallywept, what was he els e than an unhappy man? and
what good man is unhappy? In truth, the whole is badly adminis tered, if Zeus does
nottake care of his own citizens that they may be happy like hims elf. Butthes e
things are not lawful nor right to think of: and if Ulys s es did weep and lament, he
was not a good man. For who is good if heknows not who he is ? and who knows what he
is , if he forgets thatthings which have been made are peris hable, and that it is
notpos s ible for one human being to be with another always ? To des ire,then, things
which are impos s ible is to have a s lavis h character andis foolis h: it is the part
of a s tranger, of a man who fights agains t God in the only way that he can, by his
opinions . "But my mother laments when s he does not s ee me." Why has s he notlearned
thes e principles ? and I do not s ay this , that we s hould nottake care that s he may
not lament, but I s ay that we ought not todes ire in every way what is not our own.
And the s orrow of anotheris another's s orrow: but my s orrow is my own. I, then,
will s top myown s orrow by every means , for it is in my power: and the s orrow of
another I will endeavor to s top as far as I can; but I will notattempt to do it by
every means ; for if I do, I s hall be fightingagains t God, I s hall be oppos ing and
s hall be placing mys elf agains thim in the adminis tration of the univers e; and the
reward of this fighting agains t God and of this dis obedience not only will the
children of my children pay, but I als o s hall mys elf, both by dayand by night,
s tartled by dreams , perturbed, trembling at everypiece of news , and having my
tranquillity depending on the letters of others . Some pers on has arrived from Rome.
"I only hope thatthere is no harm." But what harm can happen to you, where you are
not?From Hellas s ome one is come: "I hope that there is no harm." Inthis way every
place may be the caus e of mis fortune to you. Is itnot enough for you to be
unfortunate there where you are, and mus t yoube s o even beyond s ea, and by the
report of letters ? Is this the wayin which your affairs are in a s tate of s ecurity?
"Well, then, s uppos ethat my friends have died in the places which are far from me."
Whatels e have they s uffered than that which is the condition of mortals ?Or how are
you des irous at the s ame time to live to old age, and atthe s ame time not to s ee
the death of any pers on whom you love? Knowyou not that in the cours e of a long
time many and various kinds ofthings mus t happen; that a fever s hall overpower one,
a robberanother, and a third a tyrant? Such is the condition of things around us ,
s uch are thos e who live with us in the world: cold andheat, and uns uitable ways of
living, and journeys by land, and voyages by s ea, and winds , and various
circums tances which s urround us ,des troy one man, and banis h another, and throw one
upon an embas s y andanother into an army. Sit down, then, in a
flutter at all thes ethings , lamenting, unhappy, unfortunate, dependent on another,
anddependent not on one or two, but on ten thous ands upon ten thous ands . D id you
hear this when you were with the philos ophers ? did you learnthis ? do you not know
that human life is a warfare? that one manmus t keep watch, another mus t go out as a
s py, and a third mus t fight?and it is not pos s ible that all s hould be in one place,
nor is itbetter that it be s o. But you, neglecting neglecting to do thecommands of
the general, complain when anything more hard than us ualis impos ed on you, and you
do not obs erve what you make the armybecome as far as it is in your power; that if
all imitate you, noman will dig a trench, no man will put a rampart round, nor keep
watch, nor expos e hims elf to danger, but will appear to be us eles s forthe purpos es
of an army. Again, in a ves s el if you go as a s ailor,keep to one place and s tick to
it. And if you are ordered to climb themas t, refus e; if to run to the head of the
s hip, refus e; and whatmas ter, of a s hip will endure you? and will he not pitch you
overboardas a us eles s thing, an impediment only and bad example to the other
s ailors ? And s o it is here als o: every man's life is a kind ofwarfare, and it is
long and divers ified. You mus t obs erve the dutyof a s oldier and do everything at
the nod of the general; if it is pos s ible, divining what his wis hes are: for there
is no res emblancebetween that general and this , neither in s trength nor in
s uperiority of character. You are placed in a great office ofcommand and not in any
mean place; but you are always a s enator. D oyou not know that s uch a man mus t give
little time to the affairs ofhis hous ehold, but be often away from home, either as
a governor orone who is governed, or dis charging s ome office, or s erving in waror
acting as a judge? Then do you tell me that you wis h, as a plant,to be fixed to the
s ame places and to be rooted? "Yes , for it is pleas ant." Who s ays that it is not?
but a s oup is pleas ant, and ahands ome woman is pleas ant. What els e do thos e s ay who
make pleas uretheir end? D o you not s ee of what men yon have uttered the language?
that it is the language of Epicureans and catamites ? Next while youare doing what
they do and holding their opinions , do you s peak tous the words of Zeno and of
Socrates ? Will you not throw away as faras you can the things belonging to others
with which you decorateyours elf, though they do not fit you at all? For what els e
do theydes ire than to s leep without hindrance and free from compuls ion, andwhen
they have ris en to yawn at their leis ure, and to was h the face,then write and read
what they choos e, and then talk about s ometrifling matter being prais ed by their
friends whatever they mays ay, then to go forth for a walk, and having walked about
a littleto bathe, and then eat and s leep, s uch s leep as is the fas hion of s uchmen?
why need we s ay how? for one can eas ily conjecture. Come, doyou als o tell your own
way of pas s ing the time which you des ire, youwho are an admirer of truth and of
Socrates and D iogenes . What doyou wis h to do in Athens ? the s ame, or s omething
els e? Why then do youcall yours elf a Stoic? Well, but they who fals ely call
thems elves Roman citizens , are s everely punis hed; and s hould thos e, who fals elyclaim
s o great and reverend a thing and name, get off unpunis hed? oris this not pos s ible,
but the law divine and s trong and inevitableis this , which exacts the s everes t
punis hments from thos e who committhe greates t crimes ? For what does this law s ay?
"Let him who pretends to things which do not belong to him be a boas ter, a
vainglorious man:let him who dis obeys the divine adminis tration be bas e, and a
s lave;let him s uffer grief, let him be envious , let him pity; and in aword let him
be unhappy and lament." "Well then; do you wis h me to pay court to a certain
pers on? to goto his doors ?" If reas on requires this to be done for the s ake of
country, for the s ake of kins men, for the s ake of mankind, whys hould you not go?
You are not as hamed to go to the doors of as hoemaker, when you are in want of
s hoes , nor to the door of agardener, when you want lettuces ; and are you as hamed to
go to thedoors of the rich when you want anything? "Yes , for I have no awe of a
s hoemaker." D on't feel any awe of the rich. "Nor will I flatter thegardener." And
do not flatter the rich. "How, then, s hall I get what Iwant?" D o I s ay to you, "Go
as if you were certain to get what youwant"? And do not I only tell you that you
may do what is becomingto yours elf? "Why, then, s hould I s till go?" That you may
have gone,that you may have dis charged the duty of a citizen, of a brother, of a
friend. And further remember that you have gone to the s hoemaker, tothe s eller of
vegetables , who have no power in anything great ornoble, though he may s ell dear.
You go to buy lettuces : they cos t anobolus , but not a talent. So it is here als o.
The matter is worthgoing for to the rich man's door. Well, I will go. It is worth
talkingabout. Let it be s o; I will talk with him. But you mus t als o kis s his hand
and flatter him with prais e. Away with that, it is a talent's worth: it is not
profitable to me, nor to the s tate nor to my friends ,to have done that which s poils
a good citizen and a friend. "But yous eem not to have been eager about the matter,
if you do nots ucceed." Have you again forgotten why you went? Know you not that a
good man does nothing for the s ake of appearance, but for the s akeof doing right?
"What advantage is it, then, to him to have doneright?" And what advantage is it to
a man who writes the name ofD ion to write it as he ought? The advantage is to have
written it. "Is there no reward then?" D o you s eek a reward for a good man greater
than doing what is good and jus t? At Olympia you wis h for nothingmore, but it s eems
to you enough to be crowned at the games . D oes its eem to you s o s mall and worthles s
a thing to be good and happy? Forthes e purpos es being introduced by the gods into
this city, and itbeing now your duty to undertake the work of a man, do you s till
want nurs es als o and a mamma, and do foolis h women by their weepingmove you and
make you effeminate? Will you thus never ceas e to be afoolis h child? know you not
that he who does the acts of a child,the older he is , the more ridiculous he is ?
In Athens did you s ee no one by going to his hous e? "I vis ited anyman that I
pleas ed." Here als o be ready to s ee, and you will s eewhom you pleas e: only let it
be without meannes s , neither withdes ire nor with avers ion, and your affairs will be
well managed. Butthis res ult does not depend on going nor on s tanding at the doors ,
butit depends on what is within, on your opinions . When you havelearned not to
value things which are external, and not dependent onthe will, and to cons ider that
not one of them is your own, but thatthes e things only are your own, to exercis e
the judgment well, to formopinions , to move toward an object, to des ire, to turn
from a thing,where is there any longer room for flattery, where for meannes s ? whydo
you s till long for the quiet there, and for the places to which youare accus tomed?
Wait a little and you will again find thes e places familiar: then, if you are of s o
ignoble a nature, again if youleave thes e als o, weep and lament. "How then s hall I
become of an affectionate temper?" By being of anoble dis pos ition, and happy. For
it is not reas onable to bemeans -s pirited nor to lament yours elf, nor to depend on
another, noreven to blame God or man. I entreat you, become an affectionate pers on
in this way, by obs erving thes e rules . But if through this affection, as you name
it, you are going to be a s lave and wretched,there is no profit in being
affectionate. And what prevents you fromloving another as a pers on s ubject to
mortality, as one who may goaway from you. D id not Socrates love his own children?
He did; butit was as a free man, as one who remembered that he mus t firs t be a
friend to the gods . For this reas on he violated nothing which was becoming to a good
man, neither in making his defens e nor by fixinga penalty on hims elf, nor even in
the former part of his life whenhe was a s enator or when be was a s oldier. But we
are fully s uppliedwith every pretext for being of ignoble temper, s ome for the s ake
of achild, s ome for a mother, and others for brethren's s ake. But it is not fit for
us to be unhappy on account of any pers on, but to be happyon account of all, but
chiefly on account of God who has made us forthis end. Well, did D iogenes love
nobody, who was s o kind and s omuch a lover of all that for mankind in general he
willingly undertooks o much labour and bodily s ufferings ? He did love mankind, but
how? As became a minis ter of God, at the s ame time caring for men, and beingals o
s ubject to God. For this reas on all the earth was his country,and no particular
place; and when he was taken pris oner he did notregret Athens nor his as s ociates
and friends there, but even he becamefamiliar with the pirates and tried to improve
them; and being s oldafterward he lived in Corinth as before at Athens ; and he would
havebehaved the s ame, if he had gone to the country of the Perrhaebi. Thus is
freedom acquired. For this reas on he us ed to s ay, "Ever s inceAntis thenes made me
free, I have not been a s lave." How didAntis thenes make him free? Hear what he
s ays : "Antis thenes taught mewhat is my own, and what is not my own; pos s es s ions are
not my own,nor kins men, domes tics , friends , nor reputation, nor places familiar, nor
mode of life; all thes e belong to others ." What thenis your own? "The us e of
appearances . This be s howed to me, that Ipos s es s it free from hindrance, and from
compuls ion, no pers on can putan obs tacle in my way, no pers on can force me to us e
appearances otherwis e than I wis h." Who then has any power
over me? Philip orAlexander, or Perdiccas or the Great King? How have they this
power?For if a man is going to be overpowered by a man, he mus t longbefore be
overpowered by things . If, then, pleas ure is not able tos ubdue a man, nor pain, nor
fame, nor wealth, but he is able, whenhe choos es , to s pit out all his poor body in
a man's face and departfrom life, whos e s lave can he s till be? But if he dwelt with
pleas ure in Athens , and was overpowered by this manner of life, his affairs would
have been at every man's command; the s tronger wouldhave had the power of grieving
him. How do you think that D iogenes would have flattered the pirates that they might
s ell him to s omeAthenian, that s ome time he might s ee that beautiful Piraeus , and
the Long Walls and the Acropolis ? In what condition would you s eethem? As a
captive, a s lave and mean: and what would be the us e ofit for you? "Not s o: but I
s hould s ee them as a free man." Show me,how you would be free. Obs erve, s ome pers on
has caught you, wholeads you away from your accus tomed place of abode and s ays ,
"Youare my s lave, for it is in my power to hinder you from living as youpleas e, it
is in my power to treat you gently, and to humble you: whenI choos e, on the
contrary you are cheerful and go elated to Athens ."What do you s ay to him who
treats you as a s lave? What means haveyou of finding one who will res cue you from
s lavery? Or cannot youeven look him in the face, but without s aying more do you
entreat tobe s et free? Man, you ought to go gladly to pris on, has tening, going
before thos e who lead you there. Then, I as k you, are you unwilling tolive in Rome
and des ire to live in Hellas ? And when you mus t die, willyou then als o fill us with
your lamentations , becaus e you will not s eeAthens nor walk about in the Lyceion?
Have you gone abroad for this ?was it for this reas on you have s ought to find s ome
pers on from whomyou might receive benefit? What benefit? That you may s olve
s yllogis ms more readily, or handle hypothetical arguments ? and for this reas ondid
you leave brother, country, friends , your family, that you mightreturn when you had
learned thes e things ? So you did not go abroadto obtain cons tancy of mind, nor
freedom from perturbation, nor inorder that, being s ecure from harm, you may never
complain of anypers on, accus e no pers on, and no man may wrong you, and thus you may
maintain your relative pos ition without impediment? This is a finetraffic that you
have gone abroad for in s yllogis ms and s ophis ticalarguments and hypothetical: if
you like, take your place in theagora and proclaim them for s ale like dealers in
phys ic. Will younot deny even all that you have learned that you may not bring a
badname on your theorems as us eles s ? What harm has philos ophy done you?Wherein has
Chrys ippus injured you that you s hould prove by youracts that his labours are
us eles s ? Were the evils that you had therenot enough, thos e which were the caus e of
your pain and lamentation,even if you had not gone abroad? Have you added more to
the lis t?And if you again have other acquaintances and friends , you will havemore
caus es for lamentation; and the s ame als o if you take anaffection for another
country. Why, then, do you live to s urroundyours elf with other s orrows upon s orrows
through which you areunhappy? Then, I as k you, do you call this affection? What
affection, man! If it is a good thing, it is the caus e of no evil:if it is bad, I
have nothing to do with it. I am formed by naturefor my own good: I am not formed
for my own evil. What then is the dis cipline for this purpos e? Firs t of all the
highes t and the principal, and that which s tands as it were at theentrance, is
this ; when you are delighted with anything, bedelighted as with a thing which is
not one of thos e which cannot betaken away, but as with s omething of s uch a kind,
as an earthen potis , or a glas s cup, that, when it has been broken, you may
rememberwhat it was and may not be troubled. So in this matter als o: if youkis s
your own child, or your brother or friend, never give fulllicens e to the
appearance, and allow not your pleas ure to go as far as it choos es ; but check it,
and curb it as thos e who s tand behind men intheir triumphs and remind them that
they are mortal. D o you als oremind yours elf in like manner, that he whom you love
is mortal, andthat what you love is nothing of your own: it has been given to you
for the pres ent, not that it s hould not be taken from you, nor has it been given to
you for all time, but as a fig is given to you or abunch of grapes at the appointed
s eas on of the year. But if you wis hfor thes e things in winter, you are a fool. So
if you wis h for yours on or friend when it is not allowed to you, you mus t know that
youare wis hing for a fig in winter. For s uch as winter is to a fig,s uch is every
event which happens from the univers e to the things which are taken away according
to its nature. And further, at thetimes when you are delighted with a thing, place
before yours elf thecontrary appearances . What harm is it while you are kis s ing your
childto s ay with a lis ping voice, "To-morrow you will die"; and to a friendals o,
"To-morrow you will go away or I s hall, and never s hall we s eeone another again"?
"But thes e are words of bad omen." And s omeincantations als o are of bad omen; but
becaus e they are us eful, Idon't care for this ; only let them be us eful. "But do you
callthings to be of bad omen except thos e which are s ignificant of s omeevil?"
Cowardice is a word of bad omen, and meannes s of s pirit, ands orrow, and grief and
s hameles s nes s . Thes e words are of bad omen:and yet we ought not to hes itate to
utter them in order to protectours elves agains t the things . D o you tell me that a
name which is s ignificant of any natural thing is of evil omen? s ay that even forthe
ears of corn to be reaped is of bad omen, for it s ignifies thedes truction of the
ears , but not of the world. Say that the falling ofthe leaves als o is of bad omen,
and for the dried fig to take theplace of the green fig, and for rais ins to be made
from the grapes .For all thes e things are changes from a former s tate into other
s tates ; not a des truction, but a certain fixed economy andadminis tration. Such is
going away from home and a s mall change:s uch is death, a greater change, not from
the s tate which now is tothat which is not, but to that which is not now. "Shall I
then nolonger exis t?" You will not exis t, but you be s omething els e, of whichthe
world now has need: for you als o came into exis tence not whenyou chos e, but when
the world had need of you. Wherefore the wis e and good man, remembering who he is
and whence hecame, and by whom he was produced, is attentive only to this , how he
may fill his place with due regularity and obediently to God. "D os tThou s till wis h
me to exis t? I will continue to exis t as free, as noble in nature, as Thou has t
wis hed me to exis t: for Thou has t mademe free from hindrance in that which is my
own. But has t Thou nofurther need of me? I thank Thee; and s o far I have remained
for Thys ake, and for the s ake of no other pers on, and now in obedience toThee I
depart." "How dos t thou depart?" Again, I s ay, as Thou has tpleas ed, as free, as Thy
s ervant, as one who has known Thy commands and Thy prohibitions . And s o long as I
s hall s tay in Thy s ervice, whomdos t Thou will me to be? A prince or a private man,
a s enator or acommon pers on, a s oldier or a general, a teacher or a mas ter of a
family? whatever place and pos ition Thou mayes t as s ign to me, as Socrates s ays , "I
will die ten thous and times rather than des ertthem." And where dos t Thou will me to
be? in Rome or Athens , or Thebes or Gyara. Only remember me there where I am. If
Thou s endes t me to aplace where there are no means for men living according to
nature, Is hall not depart in dis obedience to Thee, but as if Thou was t givingme the
s ignal to retreat: I do not leave Thee, let this be to frommy intention, but
perceive that Thou has t no need of me. If means ofliving according to nature be
allowed me, I will s eek no other placethan that in which I am, or other men than
thos e among whom I am. Let thes e thoughts be ready to hand by night and by day:
thes e yous hould write, thes e you s hould read: about thes e you s hould talk to
yours elf, and to others . As k a man, "Can you help me at all for this purpos e?" and
further, go to another and to another. Then ifanything that is s aid he contrary to
your wis h, this reflectionfirs t will immediately relieve you, that it is not
unexpected. Forit is a great thing in all cas es to s ay, "I knew that I begot a s on
who is mortal." For s o you als o will s ay, "I knew that I am mortal,I knew that I
may leave my home, I knew that I may be ejected from it,I knew that I may be led to
pris on." Then if you turn round, andlook to yours elf, and s eek the place from which
comes that which has happened, you will forthwith recollect that it comes from the
place ofthings which are out of the power of the will, and of things which arenot
my own. "What then is it to me?" Then, you will as k, and this is the chief thing:
"And who is it that s ent it?" The leader, or thegeneral, the s tate, the law of the
s tate. Give it me then, for Imus t always obey the law in everything. Then, when the
appearancepains you, for it is not in your power to prevent this , contendagains t it
by the aid of reas on, conquer it: do not allow it to gains trength nor to lead you
to the cons equences by rais ing images s uch as it pleas es and as it pleas es . If you
be in Gyara, do not imagine themode of living at Rome, and how many pleas ures there
were for himwho lived there and how many there would be for him who returned to
Rome: but fix your mind on this matter, how a man who lives in Gyaraought to live
in Gyara like a man of courage. And if you be in Rome,do not imagine what
the life in Athens is , but think only of thelife in Rome. Then in the place of
all other delights s ubs titute this , that ofbeing cons cious that you are obeying
God, that, not in word but indeed, you are performing the acts of a wis e and good
man. For what athing it is for a man to be able to s ay to hims elf, "Now, whatever
theres t may s ay in s olemn manner in the s chools and may be judged to bes aying in a
way contrary to common opinion, this I am doing; andthey are s itting and are
dis cours ing of my virtues and inquiring aboutme and prais ing me; and of this Zeus
has willed that I s hall receivefrom mys elf a demons tration, and s hall mys elf know
if He has a s oldiers uch as He ought to have, a citizen s uch as He ought to have,
and ifHe has chos en to produce me to the res t of mankind as a witnes s of thethings
which are independent of the will: 'See that you fear withoutreas on, that you
foolis hly des ire what you do des ire: s eek not thegood in things external; s eek it
in yours elves : if you do not, youwill not find it.' For this purpos e He leads me at
one time hither, atanother time s ends me thither, s hows me to men as poor, without
authority, and s ick; s ends me to Gyara, leads me into pris on, notbecaus e He hates
me, far from him be s uch a meaning, for who hates thebes t of his s ervants ? nor yet
becaus e He cares not for me, for He does not neglect any even of the s malles t
things ;' but He does this for thepurpos e of exercis ing me and making us e of me as a
witnes s toothers . Being appointed to s uch a s ervice, do I s till care about theplace
in which I am, or with whom I am, or what men s ay about me?and do I not entirely
direct my thoughts to God and to His ins tructions and commands ?" Having thes e
things always in hand, and exercis ing them by yours elf,and keeping them in
readines s , you will never be in want of one tocomfort you and s trengthen you. For
it is not s hameful to be withouts omething to eat, but not to have reas on s ufficient
for keeping awayfear and s orrow. But if once you have gained exemption from s orrow
andfear, will there any longer be a tyrant for you, or a tyrant's guard, or
attendants on Caes ar? Or s hall any appointment to offices atcourt caus e you pain,
or s hall thos e who s acrifice in the Capitol,on the occas ion of being named to
certain functions , caus e pain to youwho have received s o great authority from Zeus ?
Only do not make aproud dis play of it, nor boas t of it; but s how it by your acts ;
and ifno man perceives it, be s atis fied that you are yours elf in a healthys tate and
happy. CHAPTER 2 5 To thos e who fall off from their purpos e Cons ider as to the
things which you propos ed to yours elf at firs t,which you have s ecured and which you
have not; and how you are pleas edwhen you recall to memory the one and are pained
about the other;and if it is pos s ible, recover the things wherein you failed. For
wemus t not s hrink when we are engaged in the greates t combat, but wemus t even take
blows . For the combat before us is not in wres tling andthe Pancration, in which
both the s ucces s ful and the uns ucces s fulmay have the greates t merit, or may have
little, and in truth may bevery fortunate or very unfortunate; but the combat is
for good fortuneand happines s thems elves . Well then, even if we have renounced the
contes t in this matter, no man hinders us from renewing the combatagain, and we are
not compelled to wait for another four years thatthe games at Olympia may come
again; but as s oon as you have recoveredand res tored yours elf, and employ the s ame
zeal, you may renew thecombat again; and if again you renounce it, you may again
renew it;and if you once gain the victory, you are like him who has neverrenounced
the combat. Only do not, through a habit of doing the s amething, begin to do it
with pleas ure, and then like a bad athlete goabout after being conquered in all the
circuit of the games likequails who have run away. "The s ight of a beautiful young
girl overpowers me. Well, have I notbeen overpowered before? An inclination aris es
in me to find faultwith a pers on; for have I not found fault with him before?" You
s peak to us as if you had come off free from harm, jus t as if a mans hould s ay to
his phys ician who forbids him to bathe, "Have I notbathed before?" If, then, the
phys ician can s ay to him, "Well, andwhat, then, happened to you after the bath? Had
you not a fever, hadyou not a headache?" And when you found fault with a pers on
lately,did you not do the act of a malignant pers on, of a trifling babbler;did you
not cheris h this habit in you by adding to it thecorres ponding acts ? And when you
were overpowered by the young girl,did you come off unharmed? Why, then, do you
talk of what you didbefore? You ought, I think, remembering what you did, as s laves
remember the blows which they have received, to abs tain from thes ame faults . But
the one cas e is not like the other; for in the cas eof s laves the pain caus es the
remembrance: but in the cas e of yourfaults , what is the pain, what is the
punis hment; for when have youbeen accus tomed to fly from evil acts ? Sufferings ,
then, of the tryingcharacter are us eful to us , whether we choos e or not. CHAPTER
2 6 To thos e who fear want Are you not as hamed at more cowardly and more mean than
fugitives laves ? How do they when they run away leave their mas ters ? on whates tates
do they depend, and what domes tics do they rely on? D o theynot, after s tealing a
little which is enough for the firs t days ,then afterward move on through land or
through s ea, contriving onemethod after another for maintaining their lives ? And
what fugitives lave ever died of hunger? But you are afraid les t neces s ary things
s hould fall you, and are s leeples s by night. Wretch, are you s o blind,and don't you
s ee the road to which the want of neces s aries leads ?"Well, where does it lead?" To
the s ame place to which a feverleads , or a s tone that falls on you, to death. Have
you not often s aidthis yours elf to your companions ? have you not read much of this
kind,and written much? and how often have you boas ted that you were eas y as to
death? "Yes : but my wife and children als o s uffer hunger." Well then,does their
hunger lead to any other place? Is there not the s amedes cent to s ome place for them
als o? Is not there the s ame s tate belowfor them? D o you not choos e, then, to look
to that place full ofboldnes s agains t every want and deficiency, to that place to
whichboth the riches t and thos e who have held the highes t offices , andkings
thems elves and tyrants mus t des cend? or to which you willdes cend hungry, if it
s hould s o happen, but they burs t byindiges tion and drunkennes s . What beggar did you
hardly ever s ee whowas not an old man, and even of extreme old age? But chilled
with coldday and night, and lying on the ground, and eating only what is abs olutely
neces s ary they approach near to the impos s ibility of dying.Cannot you write? Cannot
you teach children? Cannot you be awatchman at another pers on's door? "But it is
s hameful to come to s uchneces s ity." Learn, then, firs t what are the things which
are s hameful,and then tell us that you are a philos opher: but at pres ent do not,
even if any other man call you s o, allow it. Is that s hameful to you which is not
your own act, that of which youare not the caus e, that which has come to you by
accident, as aheadache, as a fever? If your parents were poor, and left their
property to others , and if while they live, they do not help you atall, is this
s hameful to you? Is this what you learned with thephilos ophers ? D id you never hear
that the thing which is s hamefulought to be blamed, and that which is blamable is
worthy of blame?Whom do you blame for an act which is not his own, which he did not
dohims elf? D id you, then, make your father s uch as he is , or is it inyour power to
improve him? Is this power given to you? Well then,ought you to wis h the things
which are not given to you, or to beas hamed if you do not obtain them? And have you
als o been accus tomedwhile you were s tudying philos ophy to look to others and to
hope fornothing from yours elf? Lament then and groan and eat with fear thatyou may
not have food to-morrow. Tremble about your poor s laves les tthey s teal, les t they
run away, les t they die. So live, and continueto live, you who in name only have
approached philos ophy and havedis graced its theorems as far as you can by s howing
them to be us eles s and unprofitable to thos e who take them up; you who have never
s ought cons tancy, freedom from perturbation, and from pas s ions : youwho have not
s ought any pers on for the s ake of this object, but manyfor the s ake of s yllogis ms ;
you who have never thoroughly examined anyof thes e appearances by yours elf, "Am I
able to bear, or am I not ableto bear? What remains for me to do?" But as if all
your affairs werewell and s ecure, you have been res ting on the third topic, that of
things being unchanged, in order that you may pos s es s unchanged- what?cowardice,
mean s pirit, the admiration of the rich, des ire withoutattaining any end, and
avoidance which fails in the attempt? Abouts ecurity in thes e things you have been
anxious . Ought you not to have gained s omething in addition from reas onand, then,
to have protected this with s ecurity? And whom did you evers ee building a
battlement all round and not encircling it with a wall?And what doorkeeper is
placed with no door to watch? But youpractice in order to be able to prove- what?
You practice that you maynot be tos s ed as on the s ea through s ophis ms , and tos s ed
about fromwhat? Show me firs t what you hold, what you meas ure, or what youweigh;
and s how me the s cales or the medimnus ; or how long will you goon meas uring the
dus t? Ought you not to demons trate thos e things whichmake men happy, which make
things go on for them in the way as theywis h, and why we ought to
blame no man, accus e no man, and acquies cein the adminis tration of the univers e?
Show me thes e. "See, I s howthem: I will res olve s yllogis ms for you." This is the
meas ure,s lave; but it is not the thing meas ured. Therefore you are nowpaying the
penalty for what you neglected, philos ophy: you tremble,you lie awake, you advis e
with all pers ons ; and if yourdeliberations are not likely to pleas e all, you think
that you havedeliberated ill. Then you fear hunger, as you s uppos e: but it is not
hunger that you fear, but you are afraid that you will not have acook, that you
will not have another to purchas e provis ions for thetable, a third to take off your
s hoes , a fourth to dres s you, others to rub you, and to follow you, in order that in
the bath, when youhave taken off your clothes and s tretched yours elf out like thos e
who are crucified you may be rubied on this s ide and on that, and thenthe aliptes
may s ay, "Change his pos ition, pres ent the s ide, take holdof his head, s how the
s houlder"; and then when you have left thebath and gone home, you may call out,
"D oes no one bring s omethingto eat?" And then, "Take away the tables , s ponge them":
you are afraidof this , that you may not be able to lead the life of a s ick man.But
learn the life of thos e who are in health, how s laves live, howlabourers , how thos e
live who are genuine philos ophers ; how Socrates lived, who had a wife and children;
how D iogenes lived, and howCleanthes , who attended to the s chool and drew water. If
you choos e tohave thes e things , you will have them everywhere, and you will live in
full confidence. Confiding in what? In that alone in which a man canconfide, in
that which is s ecure, in that which is not s ubject tohindrance, in that which
cannot be taken away, that is , in your ownwill. And why have you made yours elf s o
us eles s and good for nothingthat no man will choos e to receive you into his hous e,
no man totake care of you? but if a utens il entire and us eful were cas t abroad,
every man who found it would take it up and think it a gain; but noman will take
you up, and every man will cons ider you a los s . Socannot you dis charge the office
of a dog, or of a cock? Why then doyou choos e to live any longer, when you are what
you are? D oes any good man fear that he s hall fall to have food? To the blindit
does not fall, to the lame it does not: s hall it fall to a goodman? And to a good
s oldier there does not fail to one who gives himpay, nor to a labourer, nor to a
s hoemaker: and to the good mans hall there be wanting s uch a pers on? D oes God thus
neglect the things that He has es tablis hed, His minis ters , His witnes s es , whom alone
Heemploys as examples to the unins tructed, both that He exis ts , andadminis ters well
the whole, and does not neglect human affairs , andthat to a good man there is no
evil either when he is living or whenhe is dead? What, then, when He does not
s upply him with food? Whatels e does He do than like a good general He has given me
the s ignal toretreat? I obey, I follow, as s enting to the words of the Commander,
prais ing, His acts : for I came when it pleas ed Him, and I will als o goaway when it
pleas es Him; and while I lived, it was my duty toprais e God both by mys elf, and to
each pers on s everally and to many.He does not s upply me with many things , nor with
abundance, He does not will me to live luxurious ly; for neither did He s upply
Hercules who was his own s on; but another was king of Argos and Mycenae, andHercules
obeyed orders , and laboured, and was exercis ed. AndEurys theus was what he was ,
neither kin, of Argos nor of Mycenae,for he was not even king of hims elf; but
Hercules was ruler and leaderof the whole earth and s ea, who purged away
lawles s nes s , andintroduced jus tice and holines s ; and he did thes e things both naked
and alone. And when Ulys s es was cas t out s hipwrecked, did wanthumiliate him, did it
break his s pirit? but how did he go off to thevirgins to as k for neces s aries , to
beg which is cons idered mos ts hameful? As a lion bred in the mountains trus ting
in his s trength. Relying on what? Not on reputation nor on wealth nor on the power
ofa magis trate, but on his own s trength, that is , on his opinions about the things
which are in our power and thos e which, are not.For thes e are the only things which
make men free, which make themes cape from hindrance, which rais e the head of thos e
who aredepres s ed, which make them look with s teady eyes on the rich and ontyrants .
And this was the gift given to the philos opher. But youwill not come forth bold,
but trembling about your trifling garments and s ilver ves s els . Unhappy man, have you
thus was ted your time tillnow? "What, then, if I s hall be s ick?" You will be s ick
in s uch a wayas you ought to be. "Who will take care of me?" God; your friends ."I
s hall lie down on a hard bed." But you will lie down like a man. "Is hall not have a
convenient chamber." You will be s ick in aninconvenient chamber. "Who will provide
for me the neces s ary food?"Thos e who provide for others als o. You will be s ick like
Manes . "Andwhat, als o, will be the end of the s icknes s ? Any other than death?" D o
you then cons ider that this the chief of all evils to man and thechief mark of mean
s pirit and of cowardice is not death, but ratherthe fear of death? Agains t this
fear then I advis e you to exercis eyours elf: to this let all your reas oning tend,
your exercis es , andreading; and you will know that thus only are men made free.
D ISCOURSES BOOK FOUR CHAPTER 1 About freedom
He is free who lives as he wis hes to live; who is neither s ubject tocompuls ion nor
to hindrance, nor to force; whos e movements to actionare not impeded, whos e des ires
attain their purpos e, and who does not fall into that which he would avoid. Who,
then, choos es to live inerror? No man. Who choos es to live deceived, liable to
mis take,unjus t, unres trained, dis contented, mean? No man. Not one then ofthe bad
lives as he wis hes ; nor is he, then, free. And who choos es to live in s orrow, fear,
envy, pity, des iring and failing in his des ires , attempting to avoid s omething and
falling into it? Not one.D o we then find any of the bad free from s orrow, free from
fear, whodoes not fall into that which he would avoid, and does not obtain that
which he wis hes ? Not one; nor then do we find any bad man free. If, then, a man
who has been twice cons ul s hould hear this , if youadd, "But you are a wis e man;
this is nothing to you": he willpardon you. But if you tell him the truth, and s ay,
"You differ not atall from thos e who have been thrice s old as to being yours elf not
as lave," what els e ought you to expect than blows ? For he s ays ,"What, I a s lave, I
whos e father was free, whos e mother was free, Iwhom no man can purchas e: I am als o
of s enatorial rank, and a friendof Caes ar, and I have been a cons ul, and I own many
s laves ." In thefirs t place, mos t excellent s enatorial man, perhaps your father als o
was a s lave in the s ame kind of s ervitude, and your mother, and yourgrandfather and
all your ances tors in an as cending s eries . But even ifthey were as free as it is
pos s ible, what is this to you? What if theywere of a noble nature, and you of a
mean nature; if they werefearles s , and you a coward; if they had the power of s elf-
res traint,and you are not able to exercis e it. "And what," you may s ay, "has this
to do with being a s lave?" D oes it s eem to you to be nothing to do a thing
unwillingly, withcompuls ion, with groans , has this nothing to do with being a
s lave?"It is s omething," you s ay: "but who is able to compel me, exceptthe lord of
all, Caes ar?" Then even you yours elf have admitted thatyou have one mas ter. But
that he is the common mas ter of all, as yous ay, let not this cons ole you at all:
but know that you are a s lave ina great family. So als o the people of Nicopolis are
us ed to exclaim,"By the fortune of Caes ar, are free." However, if you pleas e, let
us not s peak of Caes ar at pres ent. Buttell me this : did you never love any pers on,
a young girl, or s lave,or free? What then is this with res pect to being a s lave or
free? Wereyou never commanded by the pers on beloved to do s omething which youdid
not wis h to do? have you never flattered your little s lave? haveyou never kis s ed
her feet? And yet if any man compelled you to kis s Caes ar's feet, you would think it
an ins ult and exces s ive tyranny.What els e, then, is s lavery? D id you never go out
by night to s omeplace whither you did not wis h to go, did you not expend what you
did not wis h to expend, did you not utter words with s ighs and groans ,did you not
s ubmit to abus e and to be excluded? But if you are as hamedto confes s your own acts ,
s ee what Thras onides s ays and does , whohaving s een s o much military s ervice as
perhaps not even you have,firs t of all went out by night, when Geta does not
venture out, but ifhe were compelled by his mas ter, would have cried out much and
wouldhave gone out lamenting his bitter s lavery. Next, what does Thras onides s ay? "A
worthles s girl has ens laved me, me whom noenemy, ever did." Unhappy man, who are
the s lave even of a girl, and aworthles s girl. Why then do you s till call yours elf
free? and why doyou talk of your s ervice in the army? Then he calls for a s word and
is angry with him who out of kindnes s refus es it; and he s ends pres ents to her who
hates him, and entreats and weeps , and on the other hand,having had a little
s ucces s , he is elated. But even then how? was hefree enough neither to des ire nor
to fear? Now cons ider in the cas e of animals , how we employ the notion ofliberty.
Men keep tame lions s hut up, and feed them, and s ome takethem about; and who will
s ay that this lion is free? Is it not thefact that the more he lives at his eas e,
s o much the more he is in as lavis h condition? and who if he had perception and
reas on wouldwis h
to be one of thes e lions ? Well, thes e birds when they arecaught and are kept s hut
up, how much do they s uffer in their attempts to es cape? and s ome of them die of
hunger rather than s ubmit to s uch akind of life. And as many of them as live,
hardly live and withs uffering pine away; and if they ever find any opening, they
maketheir es cape. So much do they des ire their natural liberty, and tobe
independent and free from hindrance. And what harm is there toyou in this ? "What do
you s ay? I am formed by nature to fly where Ichoos e, to live in the open air, to
s ing when I choos e: you deprive meof all this , and s ay, 'What harm is it to you?'
For this reas on wes hall s ay that thos e animals only are free which cannot endure
capture, but, as s oon as they are caught, es cape from captivity bydeath. So
D iogenes s ays that there is one way to freedom, and thatis to die content: and he
writes to the Pers ian king, "You cannotens lave the Athenian s tate any more than you
can ens lave fis hes ." "Howis that? cannot I catch them?" "If you catch them," s ays
D iogenes ,"they will immediately leave you, as fis hes do; for if you catch afis h, it
dies ; and if thes e men that are caught s hall die, of what us eto you is the
preparation for war?" Thes e are the words of a freeman who had carefully examined
the thing and, as was natural, haddis covered it. But if you look for it in a
different place fromwhere it is , what wonder if you never find it? The s lave
wis hes to be s et free immediately. Why? D o you thinkthat he wis hes to pay money to
the collectors of twentieths ? No; butbecaus e he imagines that hitherto through not
having obtained this , heis hindered and unfortunate. "If I s hall be s et free,
immediately itis all happines s , I care for no man, I s peak to all as an equal and,
like to them, I go where I choos e, I come from any place I choos e, andgo where I
choos e." Then he is s et free; and forthwith having no placewhere he can eat, he
looks for s ome man to flatter, s ome one with whomhe s hall s up: then he either works
with his body and endures themos t dreadful things ; and if he can obtain a manger,
he falls into as lavery much wors e than his former s lavery; or even if he is become
rich, being a man without any knowledge of what is good, he loves s omelittle girl,
and in his happines s laments and des ires to be a s laveagain. He s ays , "what evil
did I s uffer in my s tate of s lavery?Another clothed me, another s upplied me with
s hoes , another fed me,another looked after me in s icknes s ; and I did only a few
s ervices forhim. But now a wretched man, what things I s uffer, being a s lave ofmany
ins tead of to one. But however," he s ays , "if I s hall acquirerings , then I s hall
live mos t pros perous ly and happily." Firs t, inorder to acquire thes e rings , he
s ubmits to that which he is worthyof; then, when he has acquired them, it is again
all the s ame. Then hes ays , "if I s hall be engaged in military s ervice, I am free
from allevils ." He obtains military s ervice. He s uffers as much as a floggeds lave,
and nevertheles s he as ks for a s econd s ervice and a third.After this , when he has
put the finis hing s troke to his career andis become a s enator, then he becomes a
s lave by entering into theas s embly, then he s erves the finer and mos t s plendid
s lavery- not tobe a fool, but to learn what Socrates taught, what is the nature of
each thing that exis ts , and that a man s hould not ras hly adaptpreconceptions to the
s everal things which are. For this is thecaus e to men of all their evils , the not
being able to adapt thegeneral preconceptions to the s everal things . But we have
differentopinions . One man thinks that he is s ick: not s o however, but the factis
that he does not adapt his preconceptions right. Another thinks that he is poor;
another that he has a s evere father or mother; andanother, again, that Caes ar is
not favourable to him. But all this is one and only one thing, the not knowing how
to adapt thepreconceptions . For who has not a preconception of that which is bad,
that it is hurtful, that it ought to be avoided, that it ought inevery way to be
guarded agains t? One preconception is not repugnant toanother, only where it comes
to the matter of adaptation. What then is this evil, which is both hurtful, and a
thing to be avoided? Heans wers , "Not to be Caes ar's friend." He is gone far from
the mark, hehas mis s ed the adaptation, he is embarras s ed, he s eeks the things which
are not at all pertinent to the matter; for when he has s ucceeded in being Caes ar's
friend, nevertheles s he has failed infinding what he s ought. For what is that which
every man s eeks ? Tolive s ecure, to be happy, to do everything as he wis hes , not to
behindered, nor compelled. When then he is become the friend ofCaes ar, is he free
from hindrance? free from compuls ion, is hetranquil, is he happy? Of whom s hall we
inquire? What more trus tworthywitnes s have we than this very man who is , become
Caes ar's friend?Come forward and tell us when did you s leep more quietly, now or
before you became Caes ar's friend? Immediately you hear the ans wer,"Stop, I entreat
you, and do not mock me: you know not what mis eries Is uffer, and s leep does not
come to me; but one comes and s ays , 'Caes aris already awake, he is now going
forth': then come troubles andcares ." Well, when did you s up with more pleas ure,
now or before? Hearwhat he s ays about this als o. He s ays that if he is not invited,
he is pained: and if he is invited, he s ups like a s lave with his mas ter,all the
while being anxious that he does not s ay or do anythingfoolis h. And what do you
s uppos e that he is afraid of; les t hes hould be las hed like a s lave? How can he
expect anything s o good? No,but as befits s o great a man, Caes ar's friend, he is
afraid that hemay los e his head. And when did you bathe more free from trouble,and
take your gymnas tic exercis e more quietly? In fine, which kindof life did you
prefer? your pres ent or your former life? I cans wear that no man is s o s tupid or s o
ignorant of truth as not tobewail his own mis fortunes the nearer he is in
friends hip to Caes ar. Since, then, neither thos e who are called kings live as they
choos e,nor the friends of kings , who finally are thos e who are free? Seek,and you
will find; for you have aids from nature for the dis coveryof truth. But if you are
not able yours elf by going along thes e ways only to dis cover that which follows ,
lis ten to thos e who have made theinquiry. What do they s ay? D oes freedom s eem to
you a good thing? "Thegreates t good." Is it pos s ible, then, that he who obtains the
greates tgood can be unhappy or fare badly? "No." Whoms oever, then, you s halls ee
unhappy, unfortunate, lamenting, confidently declare that they arenot free. "I do
declare it." We have now, then, got away from buyingand s elling and from s uch
arrangements about matters of property;for if you have rightly as s ented to thes e
matters , if the Great Kingis unhappy, he cannot be free, nor can a little king, nor
a man ofcons ular rank, nor one who has been twice cons ul. "Be it s o." Further,
then, ans wer me this ques tion als o: D oes freedom s eem toyou to be s omething great
and noble and valuable? "How s hould it nots eem s o?" Is it pos s ible, then, when a
man obtains anything, s ogreat and valuable and noble to be mean? "It is not
pos s ible." When,then, you s ee any man s ubject to another, or flattering him
contraryto his own opinion, confidently affirm that this man als o is not free;and
not only if he do this for a bit of s upper, but als o if he does itfor a government
or a cons uls hip: and call thes e men "little s laves "who for the s ake of little
matters do thes e things , and thos e who dos o for the s ake of great things call
"great s laves ," as they des erveto be. "This is admitted als o." D o you think that
freedom is a thingindependent and s elf-governing? "Certainly." Whoms oever, then, it
is in the power of another to hinder and compel, declare that he is notfree. And do
not look, I entreat you, after his grandfathers andgreat-grandfathers , or inquire
about his being bought or s old; butif you hear him s aying from his heart and with
feeling, "Mas ter," evenif the twelve fas ces precede him, call him a s lave. And if
you hearhim s ay, "Wretch that I am, how much I s uffer," call him a s lave.If,
finally, you s ee him lamenting, complaining, unhappy, call him as lave though he
wears a praetexta. If, then, he is doing nothing ofthis kind, do not yet s ay that
he is free, but learn his opinions ,whether they are s ubject to compuls ion, or may
produce hindrance, orto bad fortune; and if you find him s uch, call him a s lave who
has aholiday in the Saturnalia: s ay that his mas ter is from home: he willreturn
s oon, and you will know what he s uffers . "Who will return?"Whoever has in hims elf
the power over anything which is des ired by theman, either to give it to him or to
take it away? "Thus , then, have wemany mas ters ?" We have: for we have circums tances
as mas ters priorto our pres ent mas ters ; and thes e circums tances are many. Therefore
itmus t of neces s ity be that thos e who have the power over any of thes ecircums tances
mus t be our mas ters . For no man fears Caes ar hims elf,but he fears death,
banis hment, deprivation of his property, pris on,and dis grace. Nor does any man love
Caes ar, unles s Caes ar is apers on of great merit, but he loves wealth, the office of
tribune,praetor or cons ul. When we love, and hate, and fear thes e things , itmus t be
that thos e who have the power over them mus t be our mas ters .Therefore we adore them
even as gods ; for we think that what pos s es s es the power of conferring the greates t
advantage on us is divine. Thenwe wrongly as s ume that a certain pers on has the
power of conferringthe greates t advantages ; therefore he is s omething divine. For
if wewrongly as s ume that a certain pers on has the power of conferring thegreates t
advantages ,
it is a neces s ary cons equence that the conclus ionfrom thes e premis es mus t be
fals e. What, then, is that which makes a man free from hindrance andmakes him his
own mas ter? For wealth does not do it, nor cons uls hip,nor provincial government,
nor royal power; but s omething els e mus t bedis covered. What then is that which,
when we write, makes us free fromhindrance and unimpeded? "The knowledge of the art
of writing."What, then, is it in playing the lute? "The s cience of playing the
lute." Therefore in life als o it is the s cience of life. You have,then, heard in a
general way: but examine the thing als o in thes everal parts . Is it pos s ible that he
who des ires any of the things which depend on others can be free from hindrance?
"No." Is itpos s ible for him to be unimpeded? "No." Therefore he cannot be free.
Cons ider then: whether we have nothing which is in our own power only,or whether we
have all things , or whether s ome things are in our ownpower, and others in the
power of others . "What do you mean?" When youwis h the body to be entire, is it in
your power or not? "It is notin my power." When you wis h it to be healthy? "Neither
is this in mypower." When you wis h it to be hands ome? "Nor is this ." Life or death?
"Neither is this in my power." Your body, then, is another's ,s ubject to every man
who is s tronger than yours elf? "It is ." Butyour es tate, is it in your power to have
it when you pleas e, and as long as you pleas e, and s uch as you pleas e? "No." And
your s laves ?"No." And your clothes ? "No." And your hous e? "No." And your hors es ?
"Not one of thes e things ." And if you wis h by all means yourchildren to live, or
your wife, or your brother, or your friends , is it in your power? "This als o is not
in my power." Whether, then, have you nothing which is in your own power, which
depends on yours elf only and cannot be taken from you, or have youanything of the
kind? "I know not." Look at the thing, then, thus ,examine it. Is any man able to
make you as s ent to that which is fals e?"No man." In the matter of as s ent, then, you
are free from hindranceand obs truction. "Granted." Well; and can a man force you to
des ire tomove toward that to which you do not choos e? "He can, for when hethreatens
me with death or bonds , he compels me to des ire to movetoward it." If, then, you
des pis e death and bonds , do you s till payany regard to him? "No." Is , then, the
des pis ing of death an act ofyour own, or is it not yours ? "It is my act." It is
your own act,then, als o to des ire to move toward a thing: or is it not s o? "It is my
own act." But to des ire to move away from a thing, whos e act is that? This als o is
your act. "What, then, if I have attempted to walk,s uppos e another s hould hinder
me." What part of you does he hinder?does he hinder the faculty of as s ent? "No: but
my poor body." Yes ,as he would do with a s tone. "Granted; but I no longer walk."
Andwho told you that walking is your act free from hindrance? for Is aid that this
only was free from hindrance, to des ire to move: butwhere there is need of body and
its co-operation, you have heardlong ago that nothing is your own. "Granted als o."
And who cancompel you to des ire what you do not wis h? "No man." And to propos e,or
intend, or in s hort to make us e of the appearances which pres entthems elves , can any
man compel you? "He cannot do this : but he willhinder me when I des ire from
obtaining what I des ire." If you des ireanything which is your own, and one of the
things which cannot behindered, how will he hinder you? "He cannot in any way."
Who, then,tells you that he who des ires the things that belong to another is free
from hindrance? "Mus t I, then, not des ire health?" By no means , nor anything els e
that belongs to another: for what is not in your power to acquire orto keep when
you pleas e, this belongs to another. Keep, then, far fromit not only your hands
but, more than that, even your des ires . Ifyou do not, you have s urrendered yours elf
as a s lave; you haves ubjected your neck, if you admire anything not your own, to
everything that is dependent on the power of others and peris hable, towhich you
have conceived a liking. "Is not my hand my own?" It is apart of your own body; but
it is by nature earth, s ubject tohindrance, compuls ion, and the s lave of everything
which is s tronger. And why do I s ay your hand? You ought to pos s es s yourwhole body
as a poor as s loaded, as long as it is pos s ible, as long as you are allowed. But if
there be a pres s , and a s oldier s hould layhold of it, let it go, do not res is t, nor
murmur; if you do, youwill receive blows , and nevertheles s you will als o los e the
as s . Butwhen you ought to feel thus with res pect to the body, cons ider whatremains
to be done about all the res t, which is provided for thes ake of the body. When the
body is an as s , all the other things arebits belonging to the as s , pack-s addles ,
s hoes , barley, fodder. Letthes e als o go: get rid of them quicker and more readily
than of theas s . When you have made this preparation, and have practiced this
dis cipline, to dis tinguis h that which belongs to another from thatwhich is your
own, the things which are s ubject to hindrance fromthos e which are not, to cons ider
the things free from hindrance toconcern yours elf, and thos e which are not free not
to concernyours elf, to keep your des ire s teadily fixed to the things which do
concern yours elf, and turned from the things which do not concernyours elf; do you
s till fear any man? "No one." For about what will yoube afraid? about the things
which are your own, in which cons is ts the nature of good and evil? and who has power
over thes e things ?who can take them away? who can impede them? No man can, no more
than he can impede God. But will you be afraid about your body andyour pos s es s ions ,
about things which are not yours , about things whichin no way concern you? and what
els e have you been s tudying from thebeginning than to dis tinguis h between your own
and not your own, thethings which are in your power and not in your power, the
things s ubject to hindrance and not s ubject? and why have you come to the
philos ophers ? was it that you may nevertheles s be unfortunate andunhappy? You will
then in this way, as I have s uppos ed you to havedone, be without fear and
dis turbance. And what is grief to you? forfear comes from what you expect, but
grief from that which is pres ent.But what further will you des ire? For of the
things which are withinthe power of the will, as being good and pres ent, you have a
properand regulated des ire: but of the things which are not in the powerof the will
you do not des ire any one, and s o you do not allow anyplace to that which is
irrational, and impatient, and above meas urehas ty. When, then, you are thus
affected toward things , what man can anylonger be formidable to you? For what has a
man which is formidable toanother, either when you s ee him or s peak to him or,
finally, areconvers ant with him? Not more than one hors e has with res pect to
another, or one dog to another, or one bee to another bee. Things ,indeed, are
formidable to every man; and when any man is able toconfer thes e things on another
or to take them away, then he toobecomes formidable. How then is an acropolis
demolis hed? Not by thes word, not by fire, but by opinion. For if we abolis h the
acropolis which is in the city, can we abolis h als o that of fever, and that of
beautiful women? Can we, in a word, abolis h the acropolis which is in us and cas t
out the tyrants within us , whom we have dally overus , s ometimes the s ame tyrants ,
at other times different tyrants ?But with this we mus t begin, and with this we mus t
demolis h theacropolis and eject the tyrants , by giving up the body, the parts ofit,
the faculties of it, the pos s es s ions , the reputation,magis terial offices , honours ,
children, brothers , friends , bycons idering all thes e things as belonging to others .
And if tyrants have been ejected from us , why do I s till s hut in the acropolis by a
wall of circumvallation, at leas t on my account; for if it s tills tands , what does
it do to me? why do I s till eject guards ? Forwhere do I perceive them? agains t
others they have their fas ces , andtheir s pears , and their s words . But I have never
been hindered in mywill, nor compelled when I did not will. And how is this
pos s ible? Ihave placed my movements toward action in obedience to God. Is itHis
will that I s hall have fever? It is my will als o. Is it His willthat I s hould move
toward anything? It is my will als o. Is it His willthat I s hould obtain anything?
It is my wis h als o. D oes He not will? Ido not wis h. Is it His will that I be put to
the rack? It is my willthen to die; it is my will then to be put to the rack. Who,
then, is s till able to hinder me contrary to my own judgement, or to compel me?No
more than he can hinder or compel Zeus . Thus the more cautious of travelers als o
act. A traveler has heardthat the road is infes ted by robbers ; he does not venture
to enteron it alone, but he waits for the companions hip on the road eitherof an
ambas s ador, or of a quaes tor, or of a procons ul, and when he has attached hims elf to
s uch pers ons he goes along the road s afely. Soin the world the wis e man acts . There
are many companies of robbers ,tyrants , s torms , difficulties , los s es of that which
is deares t. "Whereis there any place of refuge? how s hall he pas s along without
beingattacked by robbers ? what company s hall he wait for that he may pas s along in
s afety? to whom s hall he attach hims elf? To what pers ongenerally? to the rich man,
to the man of cons ular rank? and what is the us e of that to me? Such a man is
s tripped hims elf, groans andlaments . But what if the fellow-companion hims elf turns
agains t me andbecomes my robber, what s hall I do? I will be 'a friend of Caes ar':
when I am Caes ar's companion no man will wrong me. In the firs t
place,that I may become illus trious , what things mus t I endure and s uffer?how
often and by how many mus t I he robbed? Then, if I become Caes ar's friend, he als o
is mortal. And if Caes ar from any circums tance becomes my enemy, where is it bes t
for me to retire? Into a des ert? Well, does fever not come there? What s hall be done
then? Is it not pos s ible tofind a s afe fellow traveler, a faithful one, s trong,
s ecure agains tall s urpris es ?" Thus he cons iders and perceives that if he attaches
hims elf to God, he will make his journey in s afety. "How do you unders tand
'attaching yours elf to God'?" In this s ens e, that whatever God wills , a man als o
s hall will; and what Goddoes not will, a man s hall not will. How, then, s hall this
he done? Inwhat other way than by examining the movements of God and his
adminis tration What has He given to me as my own and in my ownpower? what has He
res erved to Hims elf? He has given to me thethings which are in the power of the
will: He has put them in my powerfree from impediment and hindrance. How was He
able to make theearthly body free from hindrance? And accordingly He has s ubjected
to the revolution of the whole, pos s es s ions , hous ehold things ,hous e, children,
wife. Why, then, do I fight agains t God? why do Iwill what does not depend on the
will? why do I will to haveabs olutely what is not granted to ma? But how ought I to
will tohave things ? In the way in which they are given and as long as theyare
given. But He who has given takes away. Why then do I res is t? I donot s ay that I
s hall be fool if I us e force to one who is s tronger,but I s hall firs t be unjus t.
For whence had I things when I cameinto the world? My father gave them to me. And
who gave them to him?and who made the s un? and who made the fruits of the earth?
and whothe s eas ons ? and who made the connection of men with one another andtheir
fellows hip? Then after receiving everything from another and even yours elf,are you
angry and do you blame the Giver if he takes anything fromyou? Who are you, and for
what purpos e did you come into the world?D id not He introduce you here, did He not
s how you the light, did henot give you fellow-workers , and perception, and reas on?
and as whomdid He introduce you here? did He not introduce you as a s ubject to
death, and as one to live on the earth with a little fles h, and toobs erve His
adminis tration, and to join with Him in the s pectacleand the fes tival for a s hort
time? Will you not, then, as long as you have been permitted, after s eeing the
s pectacle and the s olemnity,when he leads you out, go with adoration of Him and
thanks for whatyou have s een, and heard? "No; but I would, s till enjoy the feas t."
The initiated, too, would wis h to be longer in the initiation: andperhaps als o
thos e, at Olympia to s ee other athletes ; but thes olemnity is ended: go away like a
grateful and modes t man; makeroom for others : others als o mus t be born, as you
were, and being bornthey mus t have a place, and hous es and neces s ary things . And if
thefirs t do not retire, what remains ? Why ire you ins atiable? Why are younot
content? why do you contract the world? "Yes , but I would havemy little children
with me and my wife." What, are they yours ? do theynot belong to the Giver, and to
Him who made you? then will you notgive up what belongs to others ? will you not
give way to Him who is s uperior? "Why, then, did He introduce me into the world on
thes econditions ," And if the conditions do not s uit you depart. He has noneed of a
s pectator who is not s atis fied. He wants thos e who join inthe fes tival, thos e who
take part in the chorus , that they mayrather applaud, admire, and celebrate with
hymns the s olemnity. Butthos e who can bear no trouble, and the cowardly He will not
willingly s ee abs ent from the great as s embly; for they did not whenthey were
pres ent behave as they ought to do at a fes tival nor fill uptheir place properly,
but they lamented, found fault with the deity,fortune, their companions ; not s eeing
both what they had. and theirown powers , which they received for contrary purpos es ,
the powers ofmagnanimity, of a generous mind, manly s pirit, and what we are now
inquiring about, freedom. "For what purpos e, then, have I receivedthes e things ? To
us e them. "How long;" So long as He who his lent themchoos es . "What if they are
neces s ary to me?" D o not attach yours elf tothem and they will not be neces s ary: do
not s ay to yours elf thatthey are neces s ary, and then they are not neces s ary. This
s tudy you ought to practice from morning to evening, beginning,with the s malles t
things and thos e mos t liable to damage, with anearthen pot, with a cup. Then
proceed in this way to a tunic to alittle dog, to a hors e, to a s mall es tate in
land: then to yours elf,to your body, to the parts of your body, to your brothers .
Look allround and throw thes e things from you. Purge your opinions s o thatnothing
cleave to you of the things which are not your own, thatnothing grow to you, that
nothing give you pain when it is torn fromyou; and s ay, while you are daily
exercis ing yours elf as you do there,not that you are philos ophizing, for this is an
arrogant expres s ion,but that you are pres enting an as s erter of freedom: for this is
reallyfreedom. To this freedom D iogenes was called by Antis thenes , and hes aid that
he could no longer be ens laved by any man. For this reas onwhen he was taken
pris oner, how did he behave to the pirates ? D id hecall any of them mas ter? and I do
not s peak of the name, for I amnot afraid of the word, but of the s tate of mind by
which the wordis produced. How did he reprove them for feeding badly their
captives ?How was he s old? D id he s eek a mas ter? no; but a s lave, And, when hewas
s old, how did he behave to his mas ter? Immediately he dis putedwith him and s aid to
his mas ter that he ought not to be dres s ed as he was , nor s haved in s uch a manner;
and about the children he toldthem how he ought to bring them up. And what was
s trange in this ?for if his mas ter had bought an exercis e mas ter, would he have
employed him in the exercis es of the palaes tra as a s ervant or as amas ter? and s o
if he had bought a phys ician or an architect. And s o,in every matter, it is
abs olutely neces s ary that he who has s kill mus tbe the s uperior of him who has not.
Whoever, then, generally pos s es s es the s cience of life, what els e mus t he be than
mas ter? For who is mas ter of a s hip? "The man who governs the helm." Why? Becaus e he
who will not obey him s uffers for it. "But a mas ter can give mes tripes ." Can he do
it, then, without s uffering for it?' "So I als ous ed to think." But becaus e he can
not do it without s uffering for it,for this reas on it is not in his power: and no
man can do what is unjus t without s uffering for it. "And what is the penalty for him
who puts his own s lave in chains , what do you think that is ?" The factof putting
the s lave in chains : and you als o will admit this , if youchoos e to maintain the
truth, that man is not a wild beas t, but a tameanimal. For when is a a vine doing
badly? When it is in a conditioncontrary to its nature. When is a cock? Jus t the
s ame. Therefore a manals o is s o. What then is a man's nature? To bite, to kick, and
tothrow into pris on and to behead? No; but to do good, to co-operatewith others , to
wis h them well. At that time, then, he is in a badcondition, whether you choos e to
admit it or not, when he is actingfoolis hly. "Socrates , then, did not fare badly?"
No; but his judges aid his accus ers did. "Nor did Helvidius at Rome fare badly?" No;
but his murderer did. "How do you mean?" The s ame as you do when you s aythat a cock
has not fared badly when he has gained the victory andbeen s everely wounded; but
that the cock has fared badly when he has been defeated and is unhurt: nor do you
call a dog fortunate whoneither purs ues game nor labors , but when you s ee him
s weating, whenyou s ee him in pain and panting violently after running. Whatparadox
do we utter if we s ay that the evil in everything's that whichis contrary to the
nature of the thing? Is that a paradox? for doyou not s ay this in the cas e of all
other things ? Why then in the cas eof man only do you think differently, But becaus e
we s ay that thenature of man is tame and s ocial and faithful, you will not s ay that
this is a paradox? "It is not." What then is it a paradox to s aythat a man is not
hurt when he is whipped, or put in chains , orbeheaded? does he not, if he s uffers
nobly, come off even withincreas ed advantage and profit? But is he not hurt, who
s uffers in amos t pitiful and dis graceful way, who in place of a man becomes awolf,
or viper or was p? Well then let us recapitulate the things which have been agreed
on. The man who is not under res traint is free, to whom things areexactly in that
s tate in which he wis hes them to be; but he who can beres trained or compelled or
hindered, or thrown into anycircums tances agains t his will, is a s lave. But who is
free fromres traint? He who des ires nothing that belongs to others . And what arethe
things which belong to others ? Thos e which are not in our powereither to have or
not to have, or to have of a certain kind or in acertain manner. Therefore the body
belongs to another, the parts ofthe body belong to another, pos s es s ion belongs to
another. If, then,you are attached to any of thes e things as your own, you will pay
the penalty which it is proper for him to pay who des ires what belongs to another.
This road leads to freedom, that is the only way ofes caping from s lavery, to be
able to s ay at las t with all your s oul Lead me, O Zeus , and thou O des tiny,
The way that I am bid by you to go.But what do you s ay, philos opher? The tyrant
s ummons you to s ays omething which does not become you. D o you s ay it or do you not?
Ans wer me. "Let me cons ider." Will you cons ider now? But when you werein
the s chool, what was it which you us ed to cons ider? D id you nots tudy what are the
things that are good and what are bad, and whatthings are neither one nor the
other? "I did." What then was ouropinion? "That jus t and honourable acts were good;
and that unjus t anddis graceful acts were bad." Is life a good thing? "No." Is death
a badthing? "No." Is pris on? "No." But what did we think about mean andfaithles s
words and betrayal of a friend and flattery of a tyrant?"That they are bad." Well
then, you are not cons idering, nor haveyou cons idered nor deliberated. For what is
the matter forcons ideration: is it whether it is becoming for me, when I have itin
my power, to s ecure for mys elf the greates t of good things , and notto s ecure for
mys elf the greates t evils ? A fine inquiry indeed, andneces s ary, and one that
demands much deliberation. Man, why do youmock us ? Such an inquiry is never made.
If you really imagined thatbas e things were bad and honourable things were good,
and that allother things were neither good nor bad, you would not even have
approached this inquiry, nor have come near it; but immediately youwould have been
able to dis tinguis h them by the unders tanding as youwould do by the vis ion. For
when do you inquire if black things arewhite, if heavy things are light, and do not
comprehend the manifes tevidence of the s ens es ? How, then, do you now s ay that you
arecons idering whether things which are neither good nor bad ought tobe avoided
more than things which are bad? But you do not pos s es s thes e opinions ; and neither
do thes e things s eem to you to heneither good nor bad, but you think that they are
the greates tevils ; nor do you think thos e other things to be evils , but matters
which do not concern us at all. For thus from the beginning you haveaccus tomed
yours elf. "Where am I? In the s chools : and are anylis tening to me? I am dis cours ing
among philos ophers . But I havegone out of the s chool. Away with this talk of
s cholars and fools ."Thus a friend is overpowered by the tes timony of a philos opher:
thus aphilos opher becomes a paras ite; thus he lets hims elf for hire formoney: thus
in the s enate a man does not s ay what he thinks ; inprivate he proclaims his
opinions . You are a cold and mis erable littleopinion, s us pended from idle words as
from a hair. But keep yours elfs trong and fit for the us es of life and initiated by
being exercis edin action. How do you hear? I do not s ay that your child is dead-for
how could you bear that?- but that your oil is s pilled, yourwine drunk up. D o you
act in s uch a way that one s tanding by you whileyou are making a great nois e, may
s ay this only, "Philos opher, you s ays omething different in the s chool. Why do you
deceive us ? Why, whenyou are only a worm, do you s ay that you are a man?" I s hould
liketo be pres ent when one of the philos ophers is lying with a woman, thatI might
s ee how he is exerting hims elf, and what words he is uttering,and whether he
remembers his title of philos opher, and the words whichhe hears or s ays or reads .
"And what is this to liberty?" Nothing els e than this , whether youwho are rich
choos e or not. "And who is your evidence for this ?" whoels e than yours elves ? who
have a powerful mas ter, and who live inobedience to his nod and motion, and who
faint if he only looks at youwith a s cowling countenance; you who court old women
and old men,and s ay, "I cannot do this : it is not in my power." Why is it not in
your power? D id you not lately contend with me and s ay that you arefree "But
Aprulla has hindered me." Tell the truth, then, s lave, anddo not run away from your
mas ters , nor deny, nor venture to produceany one to as s ert your freedom, when you
have s o many evidences ofyour s lavery. And indeed when a man is compelled by love
to dos omething contrary to his opinion, and at the s ame time s ees thebetter but has
not the s trength to follow it, one might cons ider hims till more worthy of excus e as
being held by a certain violent and, ina manner, a divine power. But who could
endure you who are in lovewith old women and old men, and wipe the old women's
nos es , and was hthem and give them pres ents , and als o wait on them like a s lave when
they are s ick, and at the s ame time wis h them dead, and ques tion thephys icians
whether they are s ick unto death? And again, when inorder to obtain thes e great and
much admired magis tracies and honours ,you kis s the hands of thes e s laves of others ,
and s o you are not thes lave even of free men. Then you walk about before me in
s tatelyfas hion, praetor or a cons ul. D o I not know how you became apraetor, by what
means you got your cons uls hip, who gave it to you?I would not even choos e to live,
if I mus t live by help of Felicionand endure his arrogance and s ervile ins olence:
for I know what as lave is , who is fortunate, as he thinks , and puffed up by pride.
"You then," a man may s ay, "are you free?" I wis h, by the Gods ,and pray to be free;
but I am not yet able to face my mas ters , I s tillvalue my poor body, I value
greatly the pres ervation of it entire,though I do not pos s es s it entire. But I can
point out to you a freeman, that you may no longer s eek an example. D iogenes was
free. Howwas he free?- not becaus e he was born of free parents , but becaus ehe was
hims elf free, becaus e he had cas t off all the handles ofs lavery, and it was not
pos s ible for any man to approach him, norhad any man the means of laying hold of
him to ens lave him. He hadeverything eas ily loos ed, everything only hanging to him.
If youlaid hold of his property, he would rather have let it go and be yours than he
would have followed you for it: if you had laid hold of his leg, he would have let
go his leg; if of all his body, all his poorbody; his intimates , friends , country,
jus t the s ame. For he knew fromwhence he had them, and from whom, and on what
conditions . His trueparents indeed, the Gods , and his real country he would never
havedes erted, nor would he have yielded to any man in obedience to them orto their
orders , nor would any man have died for his country morereadily. For he was not
us ed to inquire when he s hould be cons ideredto have done anything on behalf of the
whole of things , but heremembered that everything which is done comes from thence
and is doneon behalf of that country and is commanded by him who adminis ters it.
Therefore s ee what D iogenes hims elf s ays and writes : "For this reas on," he s ays ,
"D iogenes , it is in your power to s peak both withthe King of the Pers ians and with
Archidamus the king of theLacedaemonians , as you pleas e." Was it becaus e he was
born of freeparents ? I s uppos e all the Athenians and all the Lacedaemonians ,becaus e
they were born of s laves , could not talk with them as theywis hed, but feared and
paid court to them. Why then does he s ay thatit is in his power? "Becaus e I do not
cons ider the poor body to bemy own, becaus e I want nothing, becaus e law is
everything to me, andnothing els e is ." Thes e were the things which permitted him to
befree. And that you may not think that I s how you the example of a manwho is a
s olitary pers on, who has neither wife nor children, norcountry, nor friends nor
kins men, by whom he could be bent and drawnin various directions , take Socrates and
obs erve that he had a wifeand children, but he did not cons ider them as his own;
that he had acountry, s o long as it was fit to have one, and in s uch a manner as was
fit; friends and kins men als o, but he held all in s ubjection tolaw and to the
obedience due to it. For this reas on he was the firs tto go out as a s oldier, when
it was neces s ary; and in war he expos edhims elf to danger mos t uns paringly, and when
he was s ent by thetyrants to s eize Leon, he did not even deliberate about the
matter,becaus e he thought that it was a bas e action, and he knew that he mus tdie,
if it s o happened. And what difference did that make to him?for he intended to
pres erve s omething els e, not his poor fles h, buthis fidelity, his honourable
character. Thes e are things which couldnot be as s ailed nor brought into s ubjection.
Then, when he was obligedto s peak in defens e of his life, did he behave like a man
who hadchildren, who had a wife? No, but he behaved like a man who has neither. And
what did he do when he was to drink the pois on, andwhen he had the power of
es caping from pris on, and when Crito s aidto him, "Es cape for the s ake of your
children," what did Socrates s ay?D id he cons ider the power of es cape as an
unexpected gain? By nomeans : he cons idered what was fit and proper; but the res t he
didnot even look at or take into the reckoning. For he did not choos e, hes aid, to
s ave his poor body, but to s ave that which is increas ed ands aved by doing what is
jus t, and is impaired and des troyed by doingwhat is unjus t. Socrates will not s ave
his life by a bas e act; hewho would not put the Athenians to the vote when they
clamoured thathe s hould do s o, he who refus ed to obey the tyrants , he who
dis cours edin s uch a manner about virtue and right behavior. It is not pos s ibleto
s ave s uch a man's life by bas e acts , but he is s aved by dying,not by running away.
For the good actor als o pres erves his characterby s topping when he ought to s top,
better than when he goes onacting beyond the proper time. What then s hall the
children ofSocrates do? "If," s aid Socrates , "I had gone off to Thes s aly, wouldyou
have taken care of them; and if I depart to the world below,will there be no man to
take care of them?" See how he gives todeath a gentle name and mocks it. But if you
and I had been in his place, we s hould have immediately ans wered as philos ophers
thatthos e who act unjus tly mus t be repaid in the s ame way, and we s houldhave added,
"I s hall be us eful to many, if my life is s aved, and ifI die, I s hall be us eful to
no man." For, if it had been neces s ary, wes hould have made our es cape by
s lipping through a s mall hole. Andhow in that cas e s hould we have been us eful to
any man? for wherewould they have been then s taying? or if we were us eful to men
whilewe were alive, s hould we not have been much more us eful to them bydying when
we ought to die, and as we ought? And now, Socrates beingdead, no les s us eful to
men, and even more us eful, is theremembrance of that which he did or s aid when he
was alive. Think of thes e things , thes e opinions , thes e words : look to thes e
examples , if you would be free, if you des ire the thing according toits worth. And
what is the wonder if you buy s o great a thing at theprice of things s o many and s o
great? For the s ake of this which is called "liberty," s ome hang thems elves , others
throw thems elves downprecipices , and s ometimes even whole cities have peris hed: and
willyou not for the s ake of the true and unas s ailable and s ecure libertygive back
to God when He demands them the things which He has given?Will you not, as Plato
s ays , s tudy not to die only, but als o to enduretorture, and exile, and s courging,
and, in a word, to give up allwhich is not your own? If you will not, you will be a
s lave amongs laves , even you be ten thous and times a cons ul; and if you makeyour way
up to the Palace, you will no les s be a s lave; and you willfeel, that perhaps
philos ophers utter words which are contrary tocommon opinion, as Cleanthes als o
s aid, but not words contrary toreas on. For you will know by experience that the
words are true, andthat there is no profit from the things which are valued and
eagerlys ought to thos e who have obtained them; and to thos e who have notyet
obtained them there is an imagination that when thes e things arecome, all that is
good will come with them; then, when they arecome, the feveris h feeling is the
s ame, the tos s ing to and fro is the s ame, the s atiety, the des ire of things which
are not pres ent; forfreedom is acquired not by the full pos s es s ion of the things
which aredes ired, but by removing the des ire. And that you may know that this is
true, as you have laboured for thos e things , s o trans fer yourlabour to thes e; be
vigilant for the purpos e of acquiring an opinionwhich will make you free; pay court
to a philos opher ins tead of to arich old man: be s een about a philos opher's doors :
you will notdis grace yours elf by being s een; you will not go away empty norwithout
profit, if you go to the philos opher as you ought, and if not,try at leas t: the
trial is not dis graceful. CHAPTER 2 On familiar intimacy To This matter before
all you mus t attend: that you be never s oclos ely connected with any of your former
intimates or friends as tocome down to the s ame acts as he does . If you do not
obs erve this rule, you will ruin yours elf. But if the thought aris es in yourmind. "I
s hall s eem dis obliging to him, and he will not have thes ame feeling toward me,"
remember that nothing is done without cos t,nor is it pos s ible for a man if he does
not do the s ame to be the s ameman that he was . Choos e, then, which of the two you
will have, to beequally loved by thos e by whom you were formerly loved, being the
s amewith your former s elf; or, being s uperior, not to obtain from yourfriends the
s ame that you did before. For if this is better, turn awayto it, and let not other
cons iderations draw you in a differentdirection. For no man is able to make
progres s , when he is waveringbetween oppos ite things , but if you have preferred
this to all things ,if you choos e to attend to this only, to work out this only,
give upeverything els e. But if you will not do this , your wavering willproduce both
thes e res ults : you will neither improve as you ought, norwill you obtain what you
formerly obtained. For before, by plainlydes iring the things which were worth
nothing, you pleas ed youras s ociates . But you cannot excel in both kinds , and it is
neces s arythat s o far as you s hare in the one, you mus t fall s hort in the other.You
cannot, when you do not drink with thos e with whom you us ed todrink, he agreeable
to them as you were before. Choos e, then,whether you will be a hard drinker and
pleas ant to your formeras s ociates or a s ober man and dis agreeable to them. You
cannot, whenyou do not s ing with thos e with whom you us ed to s ing, be equallyloved
by them. Choos e, then, in this matter als o which of the twoyou will have. For if it
is better to be modes t and orderly than for aman to s ay, "He is a jolly fellow,"
give up the res t, renounce it,turn away from it, have nothing to do with s uch men.
But if this behavior s hall not pleas e you, turn altogether to the oppos ite: becomea
catamite, an adulterer, and act accordingly, and you will get whatyou wis h. And
jump up in the theatre and bawl out in prais e of thedancer. But characters s o
different cannot be mingled: you cannotact both Thers ites and Agamemnon. If you
intend to be Thers ites , youmus t be humpbacked and bald: if Agamemnon, you mus t be
tall andhands ome, and love thos e who are placed in obedience to you. CHAPTER 3
What things we s hould exchange for other things Keep this thought in readines s ,
when you los e anything external,what you acquire in place of it; and if it be worth
more, never s ay,"I have had a los s "; neither if you have got a hors e in place of an
as s , or an ox in place of a s heep, nor a good action in place of a bitof money, nor
in place of idle talk s uch tranquillity as befits a man,nor in place of lewd talk
if you have acquired modes ty. If youremember this , you will always maintain your
character s uch as itought to be. But if you do not, cons ider that the times of
opportunityare peris hing, and that whatever pains you take about yours elf, youare
going to was te them all and overturn them. And it needs only a fewthings for the
los s and overturning of all, namely a s mall deviationfrom reas on. For the s teerer
of a s hip to ups et it, he has no needof the s ame means as he has need of for s aving
it: but if he turns it a little to the wind, it is los t; and if he does not do this
purpos ely, but has been neglecting his duty a little, the s hip is los t. Something of
the kind happens in this cas e als o: if you onlyfall to nodding a little, all that
you have up to this timecollected is gone. Attend therefore to the appearances of
things ,and watch over them; for that which you have to pres erve is no s mallmatter,
but it is modes ty and fidelity and cons tancy, freedom from theaffects , a s tate of
mind undis turbed, freedom from fear, tranquillity,in a word, "liberty." For what
will you s ell thes e things ? See what is the value of the things which you will
obtain in exchange for thes e."But s hall I not obtain any s uch thing for it?" See,
and if you doin return get that, s ee what you receive in place of it. "I pos s es s
decency, he pos s es s es a tribunes hip: be pos s es s es a praetors hip, Ipos s es s modes ty.
But I do not make acclamations where it is notbecoming: I will not s tand up where I
ought not; for I am free, anda friend of God, and s o I obey Him willingly. But I
mus t not claimanything els e, neither body nor pos s es s ion, nor magis tracy, nor good
report, nor in fact anything. For He does not allow me to claimthem: for if He had
chos en, He would have made them good for me; butHe has not done s o, and for this
reas on I cannot trans gres s his commands ." Pres erve that which is your own good in
everything; andas to every other thing, as it is permitted, and s o far as to behave
cons is tently with reas on in res pect to them, content with this only.If you do not,
you will be unfortunate, you will fall in all things ,you will be hindered, you will
be impeded. Thes e are the laws whichhave been s ent from thence; thes e are the
orders . Of thes e laws aman ought to be an expos itor, to thes e he ought to s ubmit,
not tothos e of Mas urius and Cas s ius . CHAPTER 4 To thos e who are des irous of
pas s ing life in tranquility Remember that not only the des ire of power and of
riches makes us mean and s ubject to others , but even the des ire of tranquillity, and
of leis ure. and of traveling abroad, and of learning. For, to s peakplainly,
whatever the external thing may be, the value which we s etupon it places us in
s ubjection to others . What, then, is thedifference between des iring, to be a
s enator or not des iring to beone; what is the difference between des iring power or
being contentwith a private s tation; what is the difference between s aying, "I am
unhappy, I have nothing, to do, but I am bound to my books as acorps e"; or s aying,
"I am unhappy, I have no leis ure for reading"? Foras s alutations and power are
things external and independent of thewill, s o is a book. For what purpos e do you
choos e to read? Tell me.For if you only direct your purpos e to being amus ed or
learnings omething, you are a s illy fellow and incapable of enduring labour.But if
you refer reading to the proper end, what els e is this than atranquil and happy
life? But if reading does not s ecure for you ahappy and tranquil life, what is the
us e of it? But it does s ecurethis ," the man replies , "and for this reas on I am
vexed that I amdeprived of it." And what is this tranquil and happy life, which any
man can impede; I do not s ay Caes ar or Caes ar's friend, but a crow,a piper, a
fever, and thirty thous and other things ? But a tranquil andhappy life contains
nothing s o s ure is continuity and freedom fromobs tacle. Now I am called to do
s omething: I will go, then, with thepurpos e of obs erving the meas ures which I mus t
keep, of acting withmodes ty, s teadines s , without des ire and avers ion to things
external;and then that I may attend to men, what they s ay, how they aremoved; and
this not with any bad dis pos ition, or that I may haves omething to blame or to
ridicule; but I turn to mys elf, and as k ifI als o commit the s ame faults . "How then
s hall I ceas e to committhem?" Formerly I als o acted wrong, but now I do not:
thanks to God. Come, when you have done thes e things and have attended to them,
have you done a wors e act than when you have read a thous and vers es orwritten as
many? For when you eat, are you grieved becaus e you are notreading? are you not
s atis fied with eating according to what youhave learned by reading, and s o with
bathing and with exercis e? Why,then, do you not act cons is tently in all things ,
both when youapproach Caes ar and when you approach any pers on? If you maintain
yours elf free from perturbation, free from alarm, and s teady; if youlook rather at
the things which are done and happen than are looked atyours elf; if you do not envy
thos e who are preferred before you; ifs urrounding circums tances do not s trike you
with fear or admiration,what do you want? Books ? How or for what purpos e? for is
not this apreparation for life? and is not life its elf made up of certainother
things than this ? This is jus t as if an athlete s hould weep whenhe enters the
s tadium, becaus e he is not being exercis ed outs ide ofit. It was for this purpos e
that you us ed to practice exercis e; forthis purpos e were us ed the halteres , the
dus t, the young men as antagonis ts ; and do you s eek for thos e things now when it is
thetime of action? This is jus t as if in the topic of as s ent whenappearances
pres ent thems elves , s ome of which can he comprehended, ands ome cannot be
comprehended, we s hould not choos e to dis tinguis hthem but s hould choos e to read
what has been written aboutcomprehens ion. What then is the reas on of this ? The
reas on is that we have neverread for this purpos e, we have never written for this
purpos e, s o thatwe may in our actions us e in a way conformable to nature the
appearances pres ented to us ; but we terminate in this , in learningwhat is s aid, and
in being able to expound it to another, in res olvinga s yllogis m, and in handling
the hypothetical s yllogis m. For this reas on where our s tudy is , there alone is the
impediment. Would youhave by all means the things which are not in your power? Be
preventedthen, be hindered, fail in your purpos e. But if we read what is written
about action, not that we may s ee what is s aid about action,but that we may act
well: if we read what is s aid about des ire andavers ion, in order that we may
neither fall in our des ires , nor fallinto that which we try to avoid: if we read
what is s aid about duty,in order that, remembering the relations , we may do nothing
irrationally nor contrary to thes e relations ; we s hould not be vexedin being
hindered as to our readings , but we s hould be s atis fiedwith doing, the acts which
are conformable, and we s hould be reckoningnot what s o far we have been accus tomed
to reckon; "To-day I have reads o many vers es , I have written s o many"; but, "To-day
I haveemployed my action as it is taught by the philos ophers ; I have notemployed
any des ire; I have us ed avoidance only with res pect to things which are within the
power of my will; I have not been afraid ofs uch a pers on, I have not been prevailed
upon by the entreaties ofanother; I have exercis ed my patience, my abs tinence my
co-operationwith others "; and s o we s hould thank God for what we ought to thankHim.
But now we do not know that we als o in another way are like themany. Another man is
afraid that he s hall not have power: you areafraid that you will. D o not do s o, my
man; but as you ridicule himwho is afraid that he, s hall not have power, s o
ridicule yours elfals o. For it makes no difference whether you are thirs ty like a
manwho has a fever, or have a dread of water like a man who is mad. Orhow will you
s till be able to s ay as Socrates did, "If s o it pleas es God, s o let it be"? D o you
think that Socrates , if he had been eagerto pas s his leis ure in the Lyceum or in
the Academy and to dis cours edally with the young men, would have readily s erved in
militaryexpeditions s o often as he did; and would he not have lamented andgroaned,
"Wretch that I am; I mus t now be mis erable here, when I mightbe s unning mys elf in
the Lyceum"? Why, was this your bus ines s , tos un yours elf? And is it not your
bus ines s to be happy, to be free fromhindrance, free from impediment? And could he
s till have beenSocrates , if he had lamented in this way: how would he s till have
beenable to write Paeans in his pris on? In s hort, remember this , that what you
s hall prize which is beyondyour will, s o far you have des troyed your will. But
thes e things areout of the power of the will, not only power, but als o a private
condition: not only occupation, but als o leis ure. "Now, then, mus t Ilive in this
tumult?" Why do you s ay "tumult"? "I mean among manymen." Well what is the
hards hip? Suppos e that you are at Olympia:imagine it to be a panegyris , where one
is calling out one thing,another is doing another thing, and a third is pus hing
another pers on:in the baths there is a crowd: and who of us is not pleas ed withthis
as s embly and leaves it unwillingly, Be not difficult to pleas enor fas tidious about
what happens . "Vinegar is dis agreeable, for it is s harp; honey is dis agreeable, for
it dis turbs my habit of body. I donot like vegetables ." So als o, "I do not like
leis ure; it is a des ert:I do not like a crowd; it is confus ion." But if
circums tances makeit neces s ary for you to live alone or with a few, call it quiet
andus e the thing as you ought: talk with yours elf, exercis e theappearances , work up
your preconceptions . If you fall into a crowd,call it a celebration of games , a
panegyris , a fes tival: try toenjoy the fes tival with other men. For what is a more
pleas ant s ightto him who loves mankind than a number of men? We s ee with pleas ure
herds of hors es or oxen: we are delighted when we s ee many s hips :who is pained when
he s ees many men? "But they deafen me with theircries ." Then your hearing is
impeded. What, then, is this to you?Is , then, the power of making us e of
appearances hindered? And whoprevents you from us ing, according to nature,
inclination to a thingand avers ion from it; and movement toward a thing and
movement fromit? What tumult is able to do this ? D o you only bear in mind the
general rules : "What is mine, what is not mine; what is given to me; what does God
will that I s hould donow? what does He not will?" A little before he willed you to
be atleis ure, to talk with yours elf, to write about thes e things , toread, to hear,
to prepare yours elf. You had s ufficient time forthis . Now He s ays to you: "Come now
to the contes t; s how us what youhave learned, how you have practiced the athletic
art. How long willyou be exercis ed alone? Now is the opportunity for you to learn
whether you are an athlete worthy of victory, or one of thos e who goabout the world
and are defeated." Why, then, are; you vexed? Nocontes t is without confus ion. There
be many who exercis e thems elves for the contes ts , many who call out to thos e who
exercis ethems elves , many mas ters , many s pectators . "But my wis h is to livequietly."
Lament, then, and groan as you des erve to do. For what otheris a greater punis hment
than this to the untaught man and to him whodis obeys the divine commands : to be
grieved, to lament, to envy, ina word, to be dis appointed and to he unhappy? Would
you not releas eyours elf from thes e things ? "And how s hall I releas e mys elf?" Have
younot often heard that you ought to remove entirely des ire, applyavers ion to thos e
things only which are within your power, that youought to give up everything, body,
property, fame, books , tumult,power, private s tation? for whatever way you turn,
you are a s lave,you are s ubjected, you are hindered, you are compelled, you are
entirely in the power of others . But keep the words of Cleanthes inreadines s ,
Lead me, O Zeus , and thou neces s ity. Is it your will that I s hould go to Rome? I
will go to Rome. ToGyara? I will go to Gyara. I will go to Athens ? I will go to
Athens .To pris on? I will go to pris on. If you s hould once s ay, "When s halla man go
to Athens ?" you are undone. It is a neces s ary cons equencethat this des ire, if it is
not accomplis hed, mus t make you unhappy;and if it is accomplis hed, it mus t make you
vain, s ince you are elatedat things at which you ought not to be elated; and on the
otherhand, if you are impeded, it mus t make you wretched becaus e you fallinto that
which you would not fall into. Give up then all thes ethings . "Athens is a good
place." But happines s is much better; and tobe free from pas s ions , free from
dis turbance, for your affairs notto depend on any man. "There is tumult at Rome and
vis its ofs alutation." But happines s is an equivalent for all troubles omethings . If,
then, the time comes for thes e things , why do you not takeaway the wis h to avoid
them? what neces s ity is there to carry to avoida burden like an as s , and to be
beaten with a s tick? But if you do nots o, cons ider that you mus t always be a s lave
to him who has it inhis power to effect your releas e, and als o to impede you, and
you mus ts erve him as an evil genius . There is only one way to happines s , and let
this rule be readyboth in the morning and during the day and by night; the rule is
notto look toward things which are out of the power of our will, to thinkthat
nothing is our own, to give up all things to the D ivinity, toFortune; to make them
the s uperintendents of thes e things , whom Zeus als o has made s o; for a man to
obs erve that only which is his own,that which cannot be hindered; and when we read,
to refer ourreading to this only, and our writing and our lis tening. For this
reas on, I cannot call the man indus trious , if I hear this only, thathe reads and
writes ; and even if a man adds that he reads all night, Icannot s ay s o, if he knows
not to what he s hould refer his reading.For neither do you s ay that a man is
indus trious if he keeps awake fora girl; nor do I. But if he does it for
reputation, I s ay that he is alover
of reputation. And if he does it for money, I s ay that he is alover of money, not
a lover of labour; and if he does it throughlove of learning, I s ay that he is a
lover of learning. But if herefers his labour to his own ruling power, that he may
keep it in as tate conformable to nature and pas s his life in that s tate, then only
do I s ay that he is indus trious . For never commend a man on account ofthes e things
which are common to all, but on account of his opinions ; for thes e are the things
which belong to each man, whichmake his actions bad or good. Remembering thes e
rules , rejoice in thatwhich is pres ent, and be content with the things which come
in s eas on.If you s ee anything which you have learned and inquired aboutoccurring,
to you in your cours e of life, be delighted at it. If youhave laid as ide or have
les s ened bad dis pos ition and a habit ofreviling; if you have done s o with ras h
temper, obs cene words ,has tines s , s luggis hnes s ; if you are not moved by what you
formerlywere, and not in the s ame way as you once were, you can celebrate afes tival
daily, to-day becaus e you have behaved well in one act, andto-morrow becaus e you
have behaved well in another. How much greateris this a reas on for making
s acrifices than a cons uls hip or thegovernment of a province? Thes e things come to
you from yours elf andfrom the gods . Remember this , Who gives thes e things and to
whom,and for what purpos e. If you cheris h yours elf in thes e thoughts , doyou s till
think that it makes any difference where yon s hall be happy,where you s hall pleas e
God? Are not the gods equally dis tant fromall places ? D o they not s ee from all
places alike that which is going on? CHAPTER 5 Agains t the quarrels ome and
ferocious The wis e and good man neither hims elf fights with any pers on, nordoes he
allow another, s o far as he can prevent it. And an exampleof this as well as of all
other things is propos ed to us in the lifeof Socrates , who not only hims elf on all
occas ions avoided fights , butwould not allow even others to quarrel. See in
Xenophon's Sympos iumhow many quarrels he s ettled; how further he endured
Thras ymachus and Polus and Callicles ; how he tolerated his wife, and how hetolerated
his s on who attempted to confute him aid to cavil withhim. For he remembered well
that no man has in his power another man's ruling principle. He wis hed, therefore
nothing els e than that whichwas his own. And what is this ? Not that this or that
man may actaccording to nature; for that is a thing which belongs to another; but
that while others are doing their own acts , as they choos e, he maynever the les s be
in a condition conformable to nature and live in it,only doing what is his own to
the end that others als o may be in as tate conformable to nature. For this is the
object always s etbefore him by the wis e and good man. Is it to be commander of an
army?No: but if it is permitted him, his object is in this matter tomaintain his
own ruling principle. Is it to marry? No; but if marriageis allowed to him, in this
matter his object is to maintain hims elf ina condition conformable to nature. But
if he would have his s on not todo wrong, or his wife, he would have what belongs to
another not tobelong to another; and to he ins tructed is this : to learn whatthings
are a man's own and what belongs to another. How, then, is there left any place
for fighting, to a man who has this opinion? Is he s urpris ed at anything which
happens , and does itappear new to him? D oes he not expect that which comes from the
bad tobe wors e and more grievous than what actually befalls him? And does henot
reckon as pure gain whatever they may do which falls s hort ofextreme wickednes s ?
"Such a pers on has reviled you." Great thanks tohim for not having, s truck you.
"But he has s truck me als o." Greatthanks that he did not wound you "But he wounded
me als o." Greatthanks that he did not kill you. For when did he learn or in what
s chool that man is a tame animal, that men love one another, that anact of
injus tice is a great harm to him who does it. Since then he has not to him who does
it. Since then he has not learned this and is not convinced of it, why s hall he not
follow that which s eems to befor his own "Your neighbour has thrown s tones ." Have
you then doneanything wrong? "But the things in the hous e have been broken." Areyou
then a utens il? No; but a free power of will. What, then, is givento you in ans wer
to this ? If you are like a wolf, you mus t bite inreturn, and throw more s tones . But
if you cons ider what is properfor a man, examine your s tore-hous e, s ee with at
faculties you cameinto the world. Have you the dis pos ition of a wild beas t, Have
you thedis pos ition of revenge for an injury? When is a hors e wretched? Whenhe is
deprived of his natural faculties ; not when he cannot crowlike a cock, but when he
cannot run. When is a dog wretched? Notwhen he cannot fly, but when he cannot track
his game. Is , then, a manals o unhappy in this way, not becaus e he cannot s trangle
lions orembrace s tatues , for he did not come into the world in thepos s es s ion of
certain powers from nature for this purpos e, but becaus ehe has los t his probity and
his fidelity? People ought to meet andlament s uch a man for the mis fortunes into
which he has fallen; notindeed to lament becaus e a man his been born or has died,
butbecaus e it has happened to him in his lifetime to have los t the things which are
his own, not that which he received from his father, not his land and hous e, and his
inn, and his s laves ; for not one of thes ethings is a man's own, but all belong to
others , are s ervile ands ubject to account, at different times given to different
pers ons bythos e who have them in their power: but I mean the things which belongto
him as a man, the marks in his mind with which he came into theworld, s uch as we
s eek als o on coins , and if we find them, weapprove of the coins , and if we do not
find the marks , we reject them.What is the s tamp on this Ses tertius ? "The s tamp of
Trajan." Pres entit. "It is the s tamp of Nero." Throw it away: it cannot be
accepted,it is counterfeit. So als o in this cas e. What is the s tamp of his opinions ?
"It is gentlenes s , a s ociable dis pos ition, a toleranttemper, a dis pos ition to
mutual affection." Produce thes e qualities . Iaccept them: I cons ider this man a
citizen, I accept him as aneighbour, a companion in my voyages . Only s ee that he
has notNero's s tamp. Is he pas s ionate, is he full of res entment, is hefaultfinding?
If the whim s eizes him, does he break the heads of thos ewho come in his way? Why,
then did you s ay that he is a man? Is everything judged by the bare form? If that is
s o, s ay that the formin wax is all apple and has the s mell and the tas te of an
apple. Butthe external figure is not enough: neither then is the nos e enough andthe
eyes to make the man, but he mus t have the opinions of a man. Hereis a man who does
not lis ten to reas on, who does not know when he is refuted: he is an as s : in another
man the s ens e of s hame is becomedead: he is good for nothing, he is anything rather
than a man. This man s eeks whom he may meet and kick or bite, s o that he is not even
a s heep or an as s , but a kind of wild beas t. "What then would you have me to be
des pis ed?" By whom? by thos ewho know you? and how and how s hall thos e who know you
des pis e a manwho is gentle and modes t? Perhaps you mean by thos e who do not know
you? What is that to you? For no other artis an cares for the opinionof thos e who
know not his art. "But they will be more hos tile to mefor this reas on." Why do you
s ay "me"? Can any man injure your will,or prevent you from us ing in a natural way
the appearances which arepres ented to you, "In no way can he." Why, then, are s till
dis turbedand why do you choos e to s how yours elf afraid? And why do you not come
forth and proclaim that you are at peace with all men whatever theymay do, and
laugh at thos e chiefly who think that they can harm you?"Thes e s laves ," you can
s ay, "know not either who I am nor wherelies my good or my evil, becaus e they have
no acces s to the things which are mine." In this way, als o, thos e who occupy a
s trong city mock thebes iegers ; "What trouble thes e men are now taking for nothing:
ourwall is s ecure, we have food for a very long time, and all otherres ources ."
Thes e are the things which make a city s trong andimpregnable: but nothing els e than
his opinions makes a man's s oulimpregnable. For what wall is s o s trong, or what
body is s o hard, orwhat pos s es s ion is s o s afe, or what honour s o free from as s ault?
Allthings everywhere are peris hable, eas ily taken by as s ault, and, if anyman in any
way is attached to them, he mus t be dis turbed, expectwhat is bad, he mus t fear,
lament, find his des ires dis appointed,and fall into things which he would avoid.
Then do we not choos e tomake s ecure the only means of s afety which are offered to
us , and dowe not choos e to withdraw ours elves from that which is peris hableand
s ervile and to labour at the things , which are imperis hable and bynature free; and
do we not remember that no man either hurts anotheror does good to another, but
that a man's opinion about each thingis that which hurts him, is that which
overturns him; this is fighting, this is civil dis cord, this is war? That which made
Eteocles and Polynices enemies was nothing els e than this opinion which theyhad
about royal power, their opinion about exile, that the one is the extreme of evils ,
the other the greates t good. Now this is thenature of every man to s eek the good,
to avoid the bad; to cons iderhim who deprives us of the one and involves us in the
other an enemyand treacherous , even if he be a brother, or a s on or a father. For
nothing is more akin to us than the good: therefore if thes e things are good and
evil, neither is a father a friend to s ons , nor a brotherto
a brother, but all the world is everywhere full of enemies ,treacherous men, and
s ycophants . But if the will, being what itought to be, is the only good; and if the
will, being s uch as it oughtnot to be, is the only evil, where is there any s trife,
where is therereviling? about what? about the things which do not concern us ? and
s trife with whom? with the ignorant, the unhappy, with thos e who aredeceived about
the chief things ? Remembering this Socrates managed his own hous e and endured a
veryill-tempered wife and a foolis h s on. For in what did s he s how herbad temper? In
pouring water on his head as much as s he liked, andin trampling on the cake. And
what is this to me, if I think thatthes e things are nothing to me? But this is my
bus ines s ; and neithertyrant s hall check my will nor a mas ter; nor s hall the many
check mewho am only one, nor s hall the s tronger check me who am the weaker;for this
power of being free from check is given by God to everyman. For thes e opinions make
love in a hous e, concord in a s tate,among nations peace, and gratitude to God; they
make a man in allthings cheerful in externals as about things which belong to
others ,as about things which are of no value. We indeed are able to write andto
read thes e things , and to prais e them when they are read, but we donot even come
near to being convinced of them. Therefore what is s aid of the Lacedaemonians ,
"Lions at home, but in Ephes us foxes ,"will fit in our cas e als o, "Lions in the
s chool, but out of it foxes ." CHAPTER 6 Agains t thos e who lament over being
pitied "I am grieved," a man s ays , "at being pitied." Whether, then, is thefact of
your being pitied a thing which concerns you or thos e who pityyou? Well, is it in
your power to s top this pity? "It is in mypower, if I s how them that I do not
require pity." And whether,then, are you in the condition of not des erving pity, or
are you notin that condition? "I think I am not: but thes e pers ons do not pity me
for the things for which, if they ought to pity me, it would beproper, I mean, for
my faults ; but they pity me for my poverty, fornot pos s es s ing honourable offices ,
for dis eas es and deaths and others uch things ." Whether, then, are you prepared to
convince the manythat not one of thes e things is an evil, but that it is pos s ible
for aman who is poor and has no office and enjoys no honour to be happy; orto s how
yours elf to them as rich and in power? For the s econd of thes ethings belong, to a
man who is boas tful, s illy and good for nothing.And cons ider by what means the
pretens e mus t be s upported. It willbe neces s ary for you to hire s laves and to
pos s es s a few s ilverves s els , and to exhibit them in public, if it is pos s ible,
though theyare often the s ame, and to attempt to conceal the fact that they arethe
s ame, and to have s plendid garments , and all other things fordis play, and to s how
that you are a man honoured by the great, andto try to s up at their hous es , or to
be s uppos ed to s up there, andas to your pers on to employ s ome mean arts , that you
may appear tobe more hands ome and nobler than you are. Thes e things you mus t
contrive, if you choos e to go by the s econd path in order not to bepitied. But the
firs t way is both impracticable and long, to attemptthe very thing which Zeus has
not been able to do, to convince all menwhat things are good and bad. Is this power
given to you? This only is given to you, to convince yours elf; and you have not
convincedyours elf. Then I as k you, do you attempt to pers uade other men? andwho has
lived s o long with you as you with yours elf? and who has s omuch power of convincing
you as you have of convincing yours elf; andwho is better dis pos ed and nearer to you
than you are to yours elf?How, then, have you not convinced yours elf in order to
learn? Atpres ent are not things ups ide down? Is this what you have been earnes t
about doing, to learn to be free from grief and free from dis turbance,and not to be
humbled, and to be free? Have you not heard, then,that there is only one way which
leads to this end, to give up thethings which do not depend on the will, to
withdraw from them, andto admit that they belong to others ? For another man, then,
to have anopinion about you, of what kind is it? "It is a thing independent ofthe
will." Then is it nothing to you? "It is nothing." When, then, youare s till vexed
at this and dis turbed, do you think that you areconvinced about good and evil?
Will you not, then, letting others alone, be to yours elf boths cholar and teacher?
"The res t of mankind will look after this ,whether it is to their interes t to be and
to pas s their lives in as tate contrary to nature: but to me no man is nearer than
mys elf.What, then, is the meaning of this , that I have lis tened to thewords of the
philos ophers and I as s ent to them, but in fact I am noway made eas ier? Am I s o
s tupid? And yet, in all other things s uchas I have chos en, I have not been found
very s tupid; but I learnedletters quickly, and to wres tle, and geometry, and to
res olves yllogis ms . Has not, then, reas on convinced me? and indeed no otherthings
have I from the beginning s o approved and chos en: and now Iread about thes e things ,
hear about them, write about them; I haves o far dis covered no reas on s tronger than
this . In what, then, am Ideficient? Have the contrary opinions not been eradicated
from me?Have the notions thems elves not been exercis ed nor us ed to beapplied to
action, but as armour are laid as ide and rus ted andcannot fit me? And yet neither
in the exercis es of the palaes tra,nor in writing or reading am I s atis fied with
learning, but I turnup and down the s yllogis ms which are propos ed, and I make
others ,and s ophis tical s yllogis ms als o. But the neces s ary theorems , byproceeding
from which a man can become free from grief, fear,pas s ions , hindrance, and a free
man, thes e I do not exercis e mys elf innor do I practice in thes e the proper
practice. Then I care about whatothers will s ay of me, whether I s hall appear to
them worth notice,whether I s hall appear happy." Wretched man, will you not s ee
what you. are s aying aboutyours elf? What do you appear to yours elf to be? in your
opinions , inyour des ires , in your avers ions from things , in your movements , inyour
preparation, in your des igns , and in other acts s uitable to aman? But do you
trouble yours elf about this , whether others pityyou? "Yes , but I am pitied not as I
ought to be." Are you thenpained at this ? and is he who is pained, an object of
pity? "Yes ."How, then, are you pitied not as you ought to be? For by the veryact
that you feel about being pitied, you make yours elf des erving ofpity. What then
s ays Antis thenes ? Have you not heard? "It is a royalthing, O Cyrus , to do right and
to be ill-s poken of." My head is s ound, and all think that I have the headache. What
do I care forthat? I am free from fever, and people s ympathize with me as if Ihad a
fever: "Poor man, for s o long a time you have not ceas ed to havefever." I als o s ay
with a s orrowful countenance: "In truth it is now along time that I have been ill."
"What will happen then?" "As Godmay pleas e": and at the s ame time I s ecretly laugh
at thos e who arepitying me. What, then, hinders the s ame being done in this cas e
als o?I am poor, but I have a right opinion about poverty. Why, then, do Icare if
they pity me for my poverty? I am not in power; but others are: and I have the
opinion which I ought to have about having and nothaving power. Let them look to it
who pity me; but I am neither hungrynor thirs ty nor do I s uffer cold; but becaus e
they are hungry orthirs ty they think that I too am. What, then, s hall I do for
them?Shall I go about and proclaim and s ay: "Be not mis taken, men, I amvery well, I
do not trouble mys elf about poverty, nor want of power,nor in a word about anything
els e than right opinions . Thes e I havefree from res traint, I care for nothing at
all." What foolis h talkis this ? How do I pos s es s right opinions when I am not
content withbeing what I am, but am uneas y about what I am s uppos ed to be? "But,"
you s ay, "others will get more and be preferred to me." What,then, is more
reas onable than for thos e who have laboured aboutanything to have more in that
thing in which they have laboured?They have laboured for power, you have laboured
about opinions ; andthey have laboured for wealth, you for the proper us e of
appearances . See if they have more than you in this about which youhave laboured,
and which they neglect; if they as s ent better thanyou with res pect to the natural
rules of things ; if they are les s dis appointed than you in their des ires ; if they
fall les s intothings which they would avoid than you do; if in their intentions ,if
in the things which they propos e to thems elves , if in theirpurpos es , if in their
motions toward an object they take a better aim;if they better obs erve a proper
behavior, as men, as s ons , as parents ,and s o on as to the other names by which we
expres s the relations oflife. But if they exercis e power, and you do not, will you
notchoos e to tell yours elf the truth, that you do nothing for the s ake ofthis , and
they do all? But it is mos t unreas onable that he who looks after anything s hould
obtain les s than he who does not look after it. "Not s o: but s ince I care about
right opinions , it more reas onablefor me to have power." Yes in the matter about
which you do care, inopinions . But in a matter in which they have cared more than
you, giveway to them. The cas e is jus t the s ame as if, becaus e you have right
opinions , you thought that in us ing the bow you s hould hit the markbetter than an
archer, and in working in metal you s hould s ucceedbetter than a s mith. Give up,
then, your earnes tnes s about opinions and employ yours elf about the things which you
wis h to acquire; andthen lament, if you do not s ucceed; for you des erve
to lament. But nowyou s ay that you are occupied with other things , that you are
looking after other things ; but the many s ay this truly, that oneact has no
community with another. He who has ris en in the mornings eeks whom he s hall s alute,
to whom he s hall s ay s omethingagreeable, to whom he s hall s end a pres ent, how he
s hall pleas e thedancing man, how by bad behavior to one he may pleas e another. When
heprays , he prays about thes e things ; when he s acrifices , hes acrifices for thes e
things : the s aying of Pythagoras Let s leep not come upon thy languid eyes he
trans fers to thes e things . "Where have I failed in the matters pertaining to
flattery?" "What have I done?" Anything like a free man,anything like a noble-
minded man? And if he finds anything of thekind, he blames and accus es hims elf:
"Why did you s ay this ? Was it notin your power to lie? Even the philos ophers s ay
that nothing hinders us from telling a lie." But do you, if indeed you have cared
aboutnothing els e except the proper us e of appearances , as s oon as you haveris en in
the morning reflect, "What do I want in order to be free frompas s ion, and free from
perturbation? What am I? Am I a poor body, apiece of property, a thing of which
s omething is s aid? I am none ofthes e. But what am I? I am a rational animal. What
then is required ofme?" Reflect on your acts . "Where have I omitted the things
whichconduce to happines s ? What have I done which is either unfriendly oruns ocial?
what have I not done as to thes e things which I ought tohave done?" So great,
then, being, the difference in des ires , actions , wis hes ,would you s till have the
s ame s hare with others in thos e things about which you have not laboured, and they
have laboured? Then areyou s urpris ed if they pity you, and are you vexed? But they
are notvexed if you pity them. Why? Becaus e they are convinced that they havethat
which is good, and you are not convinced. For this reas on you arenot s atis fied with
your own, but you des ire that which they have:but they are s atis fied with their
own, and do not des ire what youhave: s ince, if you were really convinced that with
res pect to what is good, it is you who are the pos s es s or of it and that they have
mis s ed it, you would not even have thought of what they s ay about you. CHAPTER 7
On freedom from fear What makes the tyrant formidable? "The guards ," you s ay, "and
their s words , and the men of the bedchamber and thos e who exclude themwho would
enter." Why, then, if you bring a boy to the tyrant whenhe is with his guards , is
he not afraid; or is it becaus e the childdoes not unders tand thes e things ? If,
then, any man does unders tandwhat guards are and that they have s words , and comes
to the tyrant forthis very purpos e becaus e he wis hes to die on account of s ome
circums tance and s eeks to die eas ily by the hand of another, is heafraid of the
guards ? "No, for he wis hes for the thing which makes theguards formidable." If,
then, neither any man wis hing to die nor tolive by all means , but only as it may be
permitted, approaches thetyrant, what hinders him from approaching the tyrant
without fear?"Nothing." If, then, a man has the s ame opinion about his propertyas
the man whom I have ins tanced has about his body; and als o abouthis children and
his wife, and in a word is s o affected by s omemadnes s or des pair that he cares not
whether he pos s es s es them or not,but like children who are playing, with s hells
care about the play,but do not trouble thems elves about the s hells , s o he too has
s et novalue on the materials , but values the pleas ure that he has withthem and the
occupation, what tyrant is then formidable to him or whatguards or what s words ?
Then through madnes s is it pos s ible for a man to be s o dis pos edtoward thes e things ,
and the Galilaens through habit, and is itpos s ible that no man can learn from
reas on and from demons tration thatGod has made all the things in the univers e and
the univers e its elfcompletely free from hindrance and perfect, and the parts of it
forthe us e of the whole? All other animals indeed are incapable ofcomprehending the
adminis tration of it; but the rational animal,man, has faculties for the
cons ideration of all thes e and forunders tanding that it is a part, and what kind of
a part it is , andthat it is right for the parts to be s ubordinate to the whole. And
bes ides this being naturally noble, magnanimous and free, man s ees that of the
things which s urround him s ome are free from hindrance andin his power, and the
other things are s ubject to hindrance and in thepower of others ; that the things
which are free from hindrance arein the power of the will; and thos e which are
s ubject to hinderanceare the things which are not in the power of the will. And,
for this reas on, if he thinks that his good and his interes t be in thes e things only
which are free from hindrance and in his own power, he will befree, pros perous ,
happy, free from harm, magnanimous pious , thankfulto God for all things ; in no
matter finding fault with any of thethings which have not been put in his power,
nor blaming any ofthem. But if he thinks that his good and his interes t are in
externals and in things which are not in the power of his will, he mus t ofneces s ity
be hindered, be impeded, be a s lave to thos e who have thepower over things which he
admires and fears ; and he mus t of neces s itybe impious becaus e he thinks that he is
harmed by God, and he mus tbe unjus t becaus e he always claims more than belongs to
him; and hemus t of neces s ity be abject and mean. What hinders a man, who has
clearly s eparated thes e things , fromliving with a light heart and bearing eas ily
the reins , quietlyexpecting everything which can happen, and enduring that which
has already happened? "Would you have me to bear poverty?" Come and youwill know
what poverty is when it has found one who can act well thepart of a poor man.
"Would you have me to pos s es s power?" Let mehave power, and als o the trouble of it.
"Well, banis hment?" Wherever Is hall go, there it will be well with me; for here
als o where I am,it was not becaus e of the place that it was well with me, but
becaus e of my opinions which I s hall carry off with me: for neithercan any man
deprive me of them; but my opinions alone are mine andthey cannot he taken from me,
and I am s atis fied while I have them,wherever I may be and whatever I am doing.
"But now it is time todie." Why do you s ay "to die"? Make no tragedy s how of the
thing,but s peak of it as it is : it is now time for the matter to be res olvedinto
the things out of which it was compos ed. And what is theformidable thing here? what
is going to peris h of the things which arein the univers e? what new thing or
wondrous is going to happen? Is it for this reas on that a tyrant is formidable? Is
it for this reas on that the guards appear to have s words which are large ands harp?
Say this to others ; but I have cons idered about all thes ethins ; no man has power
over me. I have been made free; I know His commands , no man can now lead me as a
s lave. I have a proper pers on toas s ert my freedom; I have proper judges . Are you
not the mas ter ofmy body? What, then, is that to me? Are you not the mas ter of my
property? What, then, is that to me? Are you not the mas ter of myexile or of my
chains ? Well, from all thes e things and all the poorbody its elf I depart at your
bidding, when you pleas e. Make trial ofyour power, and you will know how far it
reaches . Whom then can I s till fear? Thos e who are over the bedchamber?Les t they
s hould do, what? Shut me out? If they find that I wis h toenter, let them s hut me
out. "Why, then, do you go to the doors ?"Becaus e I think it befits me, while the
play las ts , to join in it."How, then, are you not s hut out?" Becaus e, unles s s ome
one allows me to go in, I do not choos e to ,o in, but am always content with thatI
which happens ; for I think that what God choos es is better than whatI choos e. I
will attach mys elf as a minis ter and follower to Him; Ihave the s ame movements as
He has , I have the s ame des ires ; in a word,I have the s ame will. There is no
s hutting out for me, but for thos ewho would force their in. Why, then, do not I
force my way in? Becaus eI know that nothing good is dis tributed within to thos e who
enter. Butwhen I hear any man called fortunate becaus e he is honoured by Caes ar,I
s ay, "What does he happen to get?" A province. D oes he als o obtainan opinion s uch
as he ought? The office of a Prefect. D oes he als oobtain the power of us ing his
office well? Why do I s till s trive toenter? A man s catters dried figs and nuts : the
children s eize them andfight with one another; men do not, for they think them to
be as mall matter. But if a man s hould throw about s hells , even thechildren do not
s eize them. Provinces are dis tributed: let childrenlook to that. Money is
dis tributed: let children look to that.Praetors hips , cons uls hips are dis tributed:
let children s cramble forthem, let them be s hut out, beaten, kis s the hands of the
giver, ofthe s laves : but to me thes e are only dried figs and nuts . What then?If you
fail to get them, while Caes ar is s cattering them about, do notbe troubled: if a
dried fig come into your lap, take it and eat it;for s o far you may value even a
fig. But if I s hall s toop down andturn another over, or be turned over by another,
and s hall flatterthos e who have got into chamber, neither is a dried fig worth the
trouble, nor anything els e of the things which are not good, which thephilos ophers
have pers uaded me not to think good. Show me the s words of the guards . "See how
big they are, and hows harp." What, then, do thes e big and s harp s words do? "They
kill." Andwhat does a fever do? "Nothing els e." And what els e a tile? "Nothing
els e." Would you then have me to wonder at thes e things and wors hipthem, and go
about as the s lave of all
of them? I hope that this will not happen: but when I have once learned that
everything whichhas come into exis tence mus t als o go out of it, that the univers e
may not s tand s till nor be impeded, I no longer cons ider it anydifference whether a
fever s hall do it, or a tile, or a s oldier. Butif a man mus t make a comparis on
between thes e things , I know thatthe s oldier will do it with les s trouble, and
quicker. When, then, Ineither fear anything which a tyrant can do to me, nor des ire
anythingwhich he can give, why do I s till look on with wonder? Why am Is till
confounded? Why do I fear the guards ? Why am I pleas ed if hes peaks to me in a
friendly way, and receives me, and why do I tellothers how he s poke to me? Is he a
Socrates , is he a D iogenes that his prais e s hould be a proof of what I am? Have I
been eager to imitatehis morals ? But I keep up the play and go to him, and s erve
him s olong as he does not bid me to do anything foolis h or unreas onable. Butif he
s ays to me, "Go and bring Leon of Salamis ," I s ay to him,"Seek another, for I am no
longer playing." "Lead him away." I follow;that is part of the play. "But your head
will be taken off." D oes the tyrant's head always remain where it is , and the heads
of youwho obey him? "But you will be cas t out unburied." If the corps e is I,I s hall
be cas t out; but if I am different from the corps e, s peak moreproperly according as
the fact is , and do not think of frightening me.Thes e things are formidable to
children and fools . But if any manhas once entered a philos opher's s chool and knows
not what he is , hedes erves to be full of fear and to flatter thos e whom afterward
heus ed to flatter; if he has not yet learned that he is not fles h norbones nor
s inews , but he is that which makes us e of thes e parts of thebody and governs them
and follows the appearances of things . "Yes , but this talk makes us des pis e the
laws ." And what kind oftalk makes men more obedient to the laws who employ s uch
talk? And thethings which are in the power of a fool are not law. And yet s ee how
this talk makes us dis pos ed as we ought to be even to thes e men; s inceit teaches us
to claim in oppos ition to them none of the things inwhich they are able to s urpas s
us . This talk teaches us , as to thebody, to give it up, as to property, to give
that up als o, as tochildren, parents , brothers , to retire from thes e, to give up
all;It only makes an exception of the opinions , which even Zeus has willedto be the
s elect property of every man. What trans gres s ion of the laws is there here, what
folly? Where you are s uperior and s tronger,there I give way to you: on the other
hand, where I am s uperior, doyou yield to me; for I have s tudied this , and you have
not. It is yours tudy to live in hous es with floors formed of various s tones , how
yours laves and dependents s hall s erve you, how you s hall wear fineclothing, have
many hunting men, lute players , and tragic actors . D o Iclaim any of thes e? have you
made any s tudy of opinions and of yourown rational faculty? D o you know of what
parts it is compos ed, howthey are brought together, how they are connected, what
powers it has ,and of what kind? Why then are you vexed, if another, who has madeit
his s tudy, has the advantage over you in thes e things ? "But thes ethings are the
greates t." And who hinders you from being employedabout thes e things and looking
after them? And who has a betters tock of books , of leis ure, of pers ons to aid you?
Only turn your mindat las t to thes e things , attend, if it be only a s hort time, to
yourown ruling faculty: cons ider what this is that you pos s es s , and whenceit came,
this which us es all others , and tries them, and s elects andrejects . But s o long as
you employ yours elf about externals you willpos s es s them as no man els e does ; but
you will have this s uch as youchoos e to have it, s ordid and neglected. CHAPTER 8
Agains t thos e who has tily rus h into the us e of the philos ophicdres s Never prais e
nor blame a man becaus e of the things which are common,and do not as cribe to him
any s kill or want of s kill; and thus youwill be free from ras hnes s and from
malevolence. "This man bathes veryquickly." D oes he then do wrong? Certainly not.
But what does he do?He bathes very quickly. Are all things then done well? By no
means :but the acts which proceed from right opinions are done well; andthos e which
proceed from bad opinions are done ill. But do you,until you know the opinion from
which a man does each thing, neitherprais e nor blame the act. But the opinion is
not eas ily dis coveredfrom the external things . "This man is a carpenter." Why?
"Becaus ehe us es an ax." What, then, is this to the matter? "This man is amus ician
becaus e he s ings ." And what does that s ignify? "This man is aphilos opher. Becaus e
he wears a cloak and long hair." And what does a juggler wear? For this reas on if a
man s ees any philos opher actingindecently, immediately he s ays , "See what the
philos opher is doing"; but he ought becaus e of the man's indecent behavior ratherto
s ay that he is not a philos opher. For if this is the preconceivednotion of a
philos opher and what he profes s es , to wear a cloak andlong hair, men would s ay
well; but if what he profes s es is this rather, to keep hims elf free from faults , why
do we not rather,becaus e he does not make good his profes s ions , take from him the
name of philos opher? For s o we do in the cas e of all other arts .When a man s ees
another handling an ax badly, he does not s ay, "Whatis the us e of the carpenter's
art? See how badly carpenters do theirwork"; but he s ays jus t the contrary, "This
man is not a carpenter,for he us es an ax badly." In the s ame way if a man hears
anothers inging badly, he does not s ay, "See how mus icians s ing"; butrather, "This
man is not a mus ician." But it is in the matter ofphilos ophy only that people do
this . When they s ee a man actingcontrary to the profes s ion of a philos opher, they
do not take away his title, but they as s ume him to be a philos opher, and from his
acts deriving the fact that he is behaving indecently they conclude thatthere is no
us e in philos ophy. What, then, is the reas on of this ? Becaus e we attach value to
thenotion of a carpenter, and to that of a mus ician, and to the notion ofother
artis ans in like manner, but not to that of a philos opher, andwe judge from
externals only that it is a thing confus ed and illdefined. And what other kind of
art has a name from the dres s andthe hair; and has not theorems and a material and
an end? What,then, is the material of the philos opher? Is it a cloak? No, but
reas on. What is his end? is it to wear a cloak? No, but to pos s es s thereas on in a
right s tate. Of what kind are his theorems ? Are they thos eabout the way in which
the beard becomes great or the hair long? No,but rather what Zeno s ays , to know the
elements of reas on, what kindof a thing each of them is , and how they are fitted to
one another,and what things are cons equent upon them. Will you not, then, s eefirs t
if he does what he profes s es when he acts in an unbecomingmanner, and then blame
his s tudy? But now when you yours elf are actingin a s ober way, you s ay in
cons equence of what he s eems to you to bedoing wrong, "Look at the philos opher," as
if it were proper to callby the name of philos opher one who does thes e things ; and
further,"This is the conduct of a philos opher." But you do not s ay, "Look atthe
carpenter," when you know that a carpenter is an adulterer oryou s ee him to be a
glutton; nor do you s ay, "See the mus ician."Thus to a certain degree even you
perceive the profes s ion of aphilos opher, but you fall away from the notion, and you
are confus edthrough want of care. But even the philos ophers thems elves as they are
called purs ue thething by beginning with things which are common to them and
others : as s oon as they have as s umed a cloak and grown a beard, they s ay, "I am a
philos opher." But no man will s ay, "I am a mus ician," if he has boughta plectrum
and a lute: nor will he s ay, "I am a s mith," if he has put on a cap and apron. But
the dres s is fitted to the art; and theytake their name from the art, and not from
the dres s . For this reas on Euphrates us ed to s ay well, "A long time I s trove to be a
philos opher without people knowing it; and this ," he s aid, "was us efulto me: for
firs t I knew that when I did anything well, I did not do itfor the s ake of the
s pectators , but for the s ake of mys elf: I ate wellfor the s ake of mys elf; I had my
countenance well compos ed and mywalk: all for mys elf and for God. Then, as I
s truggled alone, s o Ialone als o was in danger: in no res pect through me, if I did
anything bas e or unbecoming, was philos ophy endangered; nor did Iinjure the many by
doing anything wrong as a philos opher. For this reas on thos e who did not know my
purpos e us ed to wonder how it was that, while I convers ed and lived altogether with
all philos ophers ,I was not a philos opher mys elf. And what was the harm for me to be
known to be a philos opher by my acts and not by outward marks ?" Seehow I eat, how I
drink, how I s leep, how I bear and forbear, how Ico-operate, how I employ des ire,
how I employ avers ion, how I maintainthe relations , thos e which are natural or
thos e which are acquired,how free from confus ion, how free from hindrance. Judge of
me fromthis , if you can. But if you are s o deaf and blind that you cannotconceive
even Hephaes tus to be a good s mith, unles s you s ee the cap onhis head, what is the
harm in not being recognized by s o foolis h ajudge? So Socrates was not known to be
a philos opher by mos t pers ons ; andthey us ed to come to him and as k to be introduced
to philos ophers . Was he vexed then as we are, and did he s ay, "And do you not think
thatI am a philos opher?" No, but he would take them and introduce them,being
s atis fied with one thing, with being a philos opher; and beingpleas ed
als o with not being thought to be a philos opher, he was notannoyed: for he thought
of his own occupation. What is the work ofan honourable and good man? To have many
pupils ? By no means . Theywill look to this matter who are earnes t about it. But was
it his bus ines s to examine carefully difficult theorems ? Others will lookafter thes e
matters als o. In what, then, was he, and who was he andwhom did he wis h to be? He
was in that wherein there was hurt andadvantage. "If any man can damage me," he
s ays , "I am doing nothing:if I am waiting for another man to do me good, I am
nothing. If Ianguis h for anything, and it does not happen, I am unfortunate." To
s uch a contes t he invited every man, and I do not think that hewould have declined
the contes t with any one. What do you s uppos e? was it by proclaiming and s aying, "I
am s uch a man?" Far from it, but bybeing s uch a man. For further, this is the
character of a fool and aboas ter to s ay, "I am free from pas s ions and dis turbance:
do not beignorant, my friends , that while you are uneas y and dis turbed aboutthings
of no value, I alone am free from all perturbation." So is itnot enough for you to
feel no pain, unles s you make this proclamation:"Come together all who are
s uffering gout, pains in the head, fever,ye who are lame, blind, and obs erve that I
am s ound from everyailment." This is empty and dis agreeable to hear, unles s like
Aes culapius you are able to s how immediately by what kind of treatmentthey als o
s hall be immediately free from dis eas e, and unles s yous how your own health as an
example. For s uch is the Cynic who is honoured with the s ceptre and thediadem of
Zeus , and s ays , "That you may s ee, O men, that you s eekhappines s and tranquillity
not where it is , but where it is not,behold I am s ent to you by God as an example.
I who have neitherproperty nor hous e, nor wife nor children, nor even a bed, nor
coatnor hous ehold utens il; and s ee how healthy I am: try me, and if yous ee that I
am free from perturbations , hear the remedies and how Ihave been cured." This is
both philanthropic and noble. But s eewhos e work it is , the work of Zeus , or of him
whom He may judge worthyof this s ervice, that he may never exhibit anything to the
many, bywhich he s hall make of no effect his own tes timony, whereby he gives
tes timony to virtue, and bears evidence agains t external things : His beauteous
face pales his cheeks He wipes a tear.And not this only, but he neither des ires
nor s eeks anything, norman nor place nor amus ement, as children s eek the vintage or
holidays ;always fortified by modes ty as others are fortified by walls and doors and
doorkeepers . But now, being only moved to philos ophy, as thos e who have a bad
s tomach are moved to s ome kinds of food which they s oon loathe,s traightway toward
the s ceptre and to the royal power. They let thehair grow, they as s ume the cloak,
they s how the s houlder bare, theyquarrel with thos e whom they meet; and if they s ee
a man in a thickwinter coat, they quarrel with him. Man, firs t exercis e yours elf in
winter weather: s ee your movements that they are not thos e of a manwith a bad
s tomach or thos e of a longing woman. Firs t s trive that itbe not known what you are:
be a philos opher to yours elf a s horttime. Fruit grows thus : the s eed mus t be buried
for s ome time, hid,grow s lowly in order that it may come to perfection. But if it
produces the ear before the jointed s tem, it is imperfect, a produceof the garden
of Adonis . Such a poor plant are you als o: you haveblos s omed too s oon; the cold
weather will s corch you up. See whatthe hus bandmen s ay about s eeds when there is
warm weather too early.They are afraid les t the s eeds s hould be too luxuriant, and
then as ingle fros t s hould lay hold of them and s how that they are tooforward. D o
you als o cons ider, my man: you have s hot out too s oon, youhave hurried toward a
little fame before the proper s eas on: youthink that you are s omething, a fool among
fools : you will be caughtby the fros t, and rather you have been fros t-bitten in the
root below,but your upper parts s till blos s om a little, and for this reas on you
think that you are s till alive and flouris hing. Allow us to ripen inthe natural
way: why do you bare us ? why do you force us ? we are notyet able to bear the air.
Let the root grow, then acquire the firs tjoint, then the s econd, and then the
third: in this way, then, thefruit will naturally force its elf out, even if I do
not choos e. Forwho that is pregnant and I filled with s uch great principles does not
als o perceive his own powers and move toward the corres pondingacts ? A bull is not
ignorant of his own nature and his powers , whena wild beas t s hows its elf, nor does
he wait for one to urge him on;nor a dog when he s ees a wild animal. But if I have
the powers of agood man, s hall I wait for you to prepare me for my own acts ? At
pres ent I have them not, believe me. Why then do you wis h me to bewithered up
before the time, as you have been withered up? CHAPTER 9 To a pers on who had been
changed to a character of s hameles s nes s When you s ee another man in the pos s es s ion
of power, s et agains tthis the fact that you have not the want of power; when you
s eeanother rich, s ee what you pos s es s in place of riches : for if youpos s es s nothing
in place of them, you are mis erable; but if you havenot the want of riches , know
that you pos s es s more than this manpos s es s es and what is worth much more. Another
man pos s es s es ahands ome woman: you have the s atis faction of not des iring a hands ome
wife. D o thes e things appear to you to he s mall? And how much wouldthes e pers ons
give, thes e very men who are rich and in pos s es s ion ofpower, and live with hands ome
women, to be able to des pis e riches and power and thes e very women whom they love
and enjoy? D o you notknow, then, what is the thirs t of a man who has a fever? He
pos s es s es that which is in no degree like the thirs t of a man who is in health: for
the man who is in health ceas es to be thirs ty afterhe has drunk; but the s ick man,
being pleas ed for a s hort time, has a naus ea; he converts the drink into bile,
vomits , is griped, and morethirs ty. It is s uch a thing to have des ire of riches and
to pos s es s riches , des ire of power and to pos s es s power, des ire of a beautifulwoman
and to s leep with her: to this is added jealous y, fear ofbeing deprived of the
thing which you love, indecent words , indecentthoughts , uns eemly acts . "And what
do I los e?" you will s ay. My man, you were modes t, and youare s o no longer. Have
you los t nothing? In place of Chrys ippus andZeno you read Aris tides and Evenus ;
have you los t nothing? In place ofSocrates and D iogenes , you admire him who is able
to corrupt ands educe mos t women. You wis h to appear hands ome and try to make
yours elf s o, though you are not. You like to dis play s plendidclothes that you may
attract women; and if you find any fine oil,yon imagine that you are happy. But
formerly you did not think ofany s uch thing, but only where there s hould be decent
talk, a worthyman, and a generous conception. Therefore you s lept like a man,
walkedforth like a man, wore a manly dres s , and us ed to talk in a waybecoming a
good man; then do you s ay to me, "I have los t nothing?"So do men los e nothing more
than coin? Is not modes ty los t? Is notdecent behavior los t? is it that he who has
los t thes e things has s us tained no los s ? Perhaps you think that not one of thes e
things is alos s . But there was a time when you reckoned this the only los s and
damage, and you were anxious that no man s hould dis turb you from thes ewords and
actions . Obs erve, you are dis turbed from thes e good words and actions bynobody but
by yours elf. Fight with yours elf, res tore yours elf todecency, to modes ty, to
liberty. If any man ever told you this aboutme, that a pers on forces me to be an
adulterer, to wear s uch a dres s as yours , to perfume mys elf with oils , would you not
have gone andwith your own hand have killed the man who thus calumniated me? Now
will you not help yours elf? and how much eas ier is this help? There is no need to
kill any man, nor to put him in chains , nor to treat himwith contumely, nor to
enter the Forum, but it is only neces s ary foryou to s peak to yours elf who will be
the mos t eas ily pers uaded, withwhom no man has more power of pers uas ion than
yours elf. Firs t ofall, condemn what you are doing, and then, when you have
condemned it,do not des pair of yours elf, and be not in the condition of thos e menof
mean s pirit, who, when they have once given in, s urrenderthems elves completely and
are carried away as if by a torrent. But s eewhat the trainers of boys do. Has the
boy fallen? "Ris e," they s ay,"wres tle again till you are made s trong." D o you als o
do s omethingof the s ame kind: for be well as s ured that nothing is more tractable
than the human s oul. You mus t exercis e the will, and the thing is done, it is s et
right: as on the other hand, only fall a-nodding,and the thing is los t: for from
within comes ruin and from withincomes help. "Then what good do I gain?" And what
greater good do yous eek than this ? From a s hameles s man you will become a modes t
man,from a dis orderly you will become an orderly man, from a faithles s youwill
become a faithful man, from a man of unbridled habits a s oberman. If you s eek
anything more than this , go on doing what you aredoing: not even a God can now help
you. CHAPTER 10 What things we ought to des pis e, and what things we ought to
value The difficulties of all men are about external things , theirhelples s nes s is
about externals . "What s hall I do, how will it be, howwill it turn out, will this
happen, will that?" All thes e are thewords of thos e who are turning thems elves to
things which are notwithin the power of the will. For who s ays , "How s hall I not
as s ent tothat which is fals e? how s hall I not turn away from
the truth?" If aman be of s uch a good dis pos ition as to be anxious about thes e
things ,I will remind him of this : "Why are you anxious ? The thing is inyour own
power: be as s ured: do not be precipitate in as s entingbefore you apply the natural
rule." On the other s ide, if a man is anxious about des ire, les t it fail in its
purpos e and mis s its end,and with res pect to the avoidance of things , les t he
s hould fallinto that which he would avoid, I will firs t kis s him, becaus e hethrows
away the things about which others are in a flutter, andtheir fears , and employs
his thoughts about his own affairs and his own condition. Then I s hall s ay to him:
"If you do not choos e todes ire that which you will fall to obtain nor to attempt to
avoid thatinto which you will fall, des ire nothing which belongs to others ,nor try
to avoid any of the things which are not in your power. If youdo not obs erve this
rule, you mus t of neces s ity fall in your des ires and fall into that which you would
avoid. What is the difficulty here?where is there room for the words , 'How will it
be?' and 'How willit turn out?' and, 'Will this happen or that?' Now is not that
which will happen independent of the will? "Yes ."And the nature of good and of
evil, is it not in the things whichare within the power of the will? "Yes ." Is it
in your power, then, totreat according to nature everything which happens ? Can any
pers onhinder you? "No man." No longer then s ay to me, "How will it be?"For however
it may be, you will dis pos e of it well, and the res ultto you will be a fortunate
one. What would Hercules have been if hehad s aid, "How s hall a great lion not
appear to me, or a great boar,or s avage men?" And what do you care for that? If a
great boar appear,you will fight a greater fight: if bad men appear, you relieve
theearth of the bad. "Suppos e, then, that I may los e my life in this way." You will
die a good man, doing a noble act. For s ince we mus tcertainly die, of neces s ity a
man mus t be found doing s omething,either following the employment of a hus bandman,
or digging, ortrading, or s erving in a cons uls hip or s uffering from indiges tion or
from diarrhea. What then do you wis h to be doing, when you are foundby death? I for
my part would wis h to be found doing s omething whichbelongs to a man, beneficent,
s uitable to the general interes t, noble.But if I cannot be found doing things s o
great, I would be found doingat leas t that which I cannot be hindered from doing,
that which is permitted me to do, correcting, mys elf, cultivating the facultywhich
makes us e of appearances , labouring at freedom from the affects ,rendering to the
relations of life their due; if I s ucceed s o far,als o touching on the third topic,
s afety in the forming judgements about things . If death s urpris es me when I am bus y
about thes e things ,it is enough for me if I can s tretch out my hands to God and
s ay: "The means which I have received from Thee for s eeing Thyadminis tration and
following it, I have not neglected: I have notdis honoured Thee by my acts : s ee how
I have us ed my perceptions , s eehow I have us ed my preconceptions : have I ever
blamed Thee? have Ibeen dis contented with anything that happens , or wis hed it to be
otherwis e? have I wis hed to trans gres s the relations ? That Thou has tgiven me life,
I thank Thee for what Thou has given me: s o long as Ihave us ed the things which are
Thine, I am content; take them back andplace them wherever Thou mayes t choos e; for
Thine were all things ,Thou gaves t them to me." Is it not enough to depart in this
s tate ofmind, and what life is better and more becoming than that of a man whois in
this s tate of mind? and what end is more happy? But that this may be done, a man
mus t receive no s mall things , norare the things s mall which he mus t los e. You
cannot both wis h to bea cons ul and to have thes e things , and to be eager to have
lands andthes e things als o; and to be s olicitous about s laves and aboutyours elf.
But if you wis h for anything which belongs to another,that which is your own is
los t. This is the nature of the thing:nothing is given or had for nothing. And
where is the wonder? If youwis h to be a cons ul, you mus t keep awake, run about,
kis s hands , was teyours elf with exhaus tion at other men's doors , s ay and do many
things unworthy of a free man, s end gifts to many, daily pres ents tos ome. And what
is the thing that is got? Twelve bundles of rods , tos it three or four times on the
tribunal, to exhibit the games in theCircus and to give s uppers in s mall bas kets .
Or, if you do not agreeabout this , let s ome one s how me what there is bes ides thes e
things .In order, then, to s ecure freedom from pas s ions , tranquillity, tos leep well
when you do s leep, to be really awake when you are awake,to fear nothing, to be
anxious about nothing, will you s pend nothingand give no labour? But if anything
belonging to you be los t while youare thus bus ied, or be was ted badly, or another
obtains what you oughtto have obtained, will you immediately be vexed at what has
happened? Will you not take into the account on the other s ide whatyou receive and
for what, how much for how much? D o you expect to havefor nothing things s o great?
And how can you? One work has nocommunity with another. You cannot have both
external things afterbes towing care on them and your own ruling faculty: but if you
wouldhave thos e, give up this . If you do not, you will have neither this nor that,
while you are drawn in different ways to both. The oilwill be s pilled, the
hous ehold ves s els will peris h: but I s hall befree from pas s ions . There will be a
fire when I am not pres ent, andthe books will be des troyed: but I s hall treat
appearances accordingto nature. "Well; but I s hall have nothing to eat." If I am s o
unlucky, death is a harbour; and death is the harbour for all; this is the place of
refuge; and for this reas on not one of the things in lifeis difficult: as s oon as
you choos e, you are out of the hous e, and ares moked no more. Why, then, are you
anxious , why do you los e your s leep,why do you not s traightway, after cons idering
wherein your good is andyour evil, s ay, "Both of them are in my power? Neither can
any mandeprive me of the good, nor involve me in the bad agains t my will. Whydo I
not throw mys elf down and s nore? for all that I have is s afe. As to the things which
belong to others , he will look to them who gets them, as they may be given by Him
who has the power. Who am I who wis hto have them in this way or in that? is a power
ofs electing them givento me? has any pers on made me the dis pens er of them? Thos e
things areenough for me over which I have power: I ought to manage them as wellas I
can: and all the res t, as the Mas ter of them may choos e." When a man has thes e
things before his eyes , does he keep awakeand turn hither and thither? What would
he have, or what does heregret, Patroclus or Antilochus or Menelaus ? For when did
he s uppos ethat any of his friends was immortal, and when had he not before his eyes
that on the morrow or the day after he or his friend mus t die?"Yes ," he s ays , "but
I thought that he would s urvive me and bring upmy s on." You were a fool for that
reas on, and you were thinking ofwhat was uncertain. Why, then, do you not blame
yours elf, and s itcrying like girls ? "But he us ed to s et my food before me." Becaus e
he was alive, you fool, but now he cannot: but Automedon will s et itbefore you, and
if Automedon als o dies , you will find another. Butif the pot, in which your meat
was cooked, s hould be broken, mus tyou die of hunger, becaus e you have not the pot
which you areaccus tomed to? D o you not s end and buy a new pot? He s ays : "No
greater ill could fall on me."Why is this your ill? D o you, then, ins tead of
removing it, blame yourmother for not foretelling it to you that you might continue
grieving from that time? What do you think? do you not s uppos e thatHomer wrote this
that we may learn that thos e of nobles t birth, thes tronges t and the riches t, the
mos t hands ome, when they have not theopinions which they ought to have, are not
prevented from being mos twretched and unfortunate? CHAPTER 11 About Purity Some
pers ons rais e a ques tion whether the s ocial feeling is contained in the nature of
man; and yet I think that thes e s amepers ons would have no doubt that love of purity
is certainly containedin it, and that, if man is dis tinguis hed from other animals
byanything, he is dis tinguis hed by this . When, then, we s ee any otheranimal
cleaning its elf, we are accus tomed to s peak of the act withs urpris e, and to add
that the animal is acting like a man: and, on theother hand, if a man blames an
animal for being dirty, s traightwayas if we were making an excus e for it, we s ay
that of cours e theanimal is not a human creature. So we s uppos e that there is
s omething s uperior in man, and that we firs t receive it from the Gods .For s ince the
Gods by their nature are pure and free fromcorruption, s o far as men approach them
by reas on, s o far do theycling to purity and to a love of purity. But s ince it is
impos s iblethat man's nature can be altogether pure being mixed of s uchmaterials ,
reas on is applied, as far as it is pos s ible, and reas onendeavours to make human
nature love The firs t, then, and highes t purity is that which is in the s oul;and
we s ay the s ame of impurity. Now you could not dis cover theimpurity of the s oul as
you could dis cover that of the body: but as tothe s oul, what els e could you find in
it than that which makes itfilthy in res pect to the acts which are her own? Now the
acts of thes oul are movement toward an object or movement from it, des ire,avers ion,
preparation, des ign, as s ent. What, then, is it which inthes e acts makes the s oul
filthy and impure? Nothing els e than her ownbad judgements . Cons equently, the
impurity of the s oul is the s oul's bad opinions ;
and the purification of the s oul is the planting in itof proper opinions ; and the
s oul is pure which has proper opinions ,for the s oul alone in her own acts is free
from perturbation andpollution. Now we ought to work at s omething like this in the
body als o, as faras we can. It was impos s ible for the defluxions of the nos e not to
runwhen man has s uch a mixture in his body. For this reas on, nature has made hands
and the nos trils thems elves as channels for carrying offthe humours . If, then, a
man s ucks up the defluxions , I s ay that he is not doing the act of a man. It was
impos s ible for a man's feet notto be made muddy and not be s oiled at all when he
pas s es through dirtyplaces . For this reas on, nature has made water and hands . It
was impos s ible that s ome impurity s hould not remain in the teeth fromeating: for
this reas on, s he s ays , was h the teeth. Why? In orderthat you may be a man and not a
wild beas t or a hog. It was impos s iblethat from the s weat and the pres s ing of the
clothes there s hould notremain s ome impurity about the body which requires to be
cleaned away.For this reas on water, oil, hands , towels , s crapers , nitre,s ometimes
all other kinds of means are neces s ary for cleaning thebody. You do not act s o: but
the s mith will take off the rus t from theiron, and be will have tools prepared for
this purpos e, and youyours elf was h the platter when you are going to eat, if you
are notcompletely impure and dirty: but will you not was h the body nor makeit
clean? "Why?" he replies . I will tell you again; in the firs tplace, that you may do
the acts of a man; then, that you may not bedis agreeable to thos e with whom you
as s ociate. You do s omething ofthis kind even in this matter, and you do not
perceive it: you thinkthat you des erve to s tink. Let it be s o: des erve to s tink. D o
youthink that als o thos e who s it by you, thos e who recline at tablewith you, that
thos e who kis s you des erve the s ame? Either go into ades ert, where you des erve to
go, or live by yours elf, and s mellyours elf. For it is jus t that you alone s hould
enjoy your ownimpurity. But when you are in a city, to behave s o incons iderately
andfoolis hly, to what character do you think that it belongs ? If naturehad
entrus ted to you a hors e, would you have overlooked andneglected him? And now think
that you have been intrus ted with yourown body as with a hors e; was h it, wipe it,
take care that no manturns away from it, that no one gets out of the way for it.
But whodoes not get out of the way of a dirty man, of a s tinking man, of aman whos e
s kin is foul, more than he does out of the way of a manwho is daubed with muck?
That s mell is from without, it is put uponhim; but the other s mell is from want of
care, from within, and in amanner from a body in putrefaction. "But Socrates
was hed hims elf s eldom." Yes , but his body was cleanand fair: and it was s o
agreeable and s weet that tile mos t beautifuland the mos t noble loved him, and
des ired to s it by him rather than bythe s ide of thos e who had the hands omes t forms .
It was in his powerneither to us e the bath nor to was h hims elf, if he chos e; and
yetthe rare us e of water had an effect. If you do not choos e to was h withwarm
water, was h with cold. But Aris tophanes s ays : Thos e who are pale, uns hod, 'tis
thos e I mean.For Aris tophanes s ays of Socrates that he als o walked the air ands tole
clothes from the palaes tra. But all who have written aboutSocrates bear exactly the
contrary evidence in his favour; they s aythat he was pleas ant not only to hear, but
als o to s ee. On the otherhand they write the s ame about D iogenes . For we ought not
even bythe appearance of the body to deter the multitude from philos ophy; butas in
other things , a philos opher s hould s how hims elf cheerful andtranquil, s o als o he
s hould in the things that relate to the body:"See, ye men, that I have nothing,
that I want nothing: s ee how I amwithout a hous e, and without a city, and an exile,
if it happens to bes o, and without a hearth I live more free from trouble and more
happily than all of noble birth and than the rich. But look at my poorbody als o and
obs erve that it is not injured by my hard way ofliving." But if a man s ays this to
me, who has the appearance and faceof a condemned man, what God s hall pers uade me
to approach philos ophy,if it makes men s uch pers ons ? Far from it; I would not
choos e to dos o, even if I were going to become a wis e man. I indeed would rather
that a young man, who is making his firs t movements toward philos ophy,s hould come
to me with his hair carefully trimmed than with it dirtyand rough, for there is
s een in him a certain notion of beauty and ades ire of that which is becoming; and
where he s uppos es it to be,there als o he s trives that it s hall be. It is only
neces s ary to s howhim, and to s ay: "Young man, you s eek beauty, and you do well: you
mus t know then that it grows in that part of you where you have therational
faculty: s eek it there where you have the movements towardand the movements from
things , where you have the des ire toward, indthe avers ion from things : for this is
what you have in yours elf of as uperior kind; but the poor body is naturally only
earth: why do youlabour about it to no purpos e? if you s hall learn nothing els e,
youwill learn from time that the body is nothing." But if a man comes to me daubed
with filth, dirty, with a mus tache down to his knees ,what can I s ay to him, by what
kind of res emblance can I lead himon? For about what has he bus ied hims elf which
res embles beauty,that I may be able to change him and "Beauty is not in this , but
inthat?" Would you have me to tell him, that beauty cons is ts not inbeing daubed
with muck, but that it lies in the rational part? Has he any des ire of beauty? has
he any form of it in his mind? Go andtalk to a hog, and tell him not to roll in the
mud. For this reas on the words of Xenocrates touched Polemon als o;s ince he was a
lover of beauty, for he entered, having in himcertain incitements to love of
beauty, but he looked for it in thewrong place. For nature has not made even the
animals dirty which livewith man. D oes a hors e ever wallow in the mud or a well-
bred dog?But the hog, and the dirty gees e, and worms and s piders do, whichare
banis hed furthes t from human intercours e. D o you, then, being aman, choos e to be
not as one of the animals which live with man, butrather a worm, or a s pider? Will
you not was h yours elf s omewheres ome time in s uch manner as you choos e? Will you not
was h off the dirtfrom your body? Will you not come clean that thos e with whom you
keep company may have pleas ure in being with you? But do you go withus even into
the temples in s uch a s tate, where it is not permitted tos pit or blow the nos e,
being a heap of s pittle and of s not? When then? does any man require you to
ornament yours elf? Far fromit; except to ornament that which we really are by
nature, therational faculty, the opinions , the actions ; but as to the body onlys o
far as purity, only s o far as not to give offens e. But if you aretold that you
ought not to wear garments dyed with purple, go and daubyour cloak with muck or
tear it. "But how s hall I have a neatcloak?" Man, you have water; was h it. Here is
a youth worthy ofbeing loved, here is an old man worthy of loving and being loved
inreturn, a fit pers on for a man to intrus t to him a s on's ins truction, to whom
daughters and young men s hall come, ifopportunity s hall s o happen, that the teacher
s hall deliver his les s ons to them on a dunghill. Let this not be s o: every deviation
comes from s omething which is in man's nature; but this is nearbeing s omething not
in man's nature. CHAPTER 12 On attention When you have remitted your attention
for a s hort time, do notimagine this , that you will recover it when you choos e; but
let butlet this thought be pres ent to you, that in cons equence of the fault
committed to-day your affairs mus t be in a wors e condition for allthat follows . For
firs t, and what caus es mos t trouble, a habit ofnot attending is formed in you; then
a habit of deferring yourattention. And continually from time to time you drive
away, bydeferring it, the happines s of life, proper behavior, the being andliving
conformably to nature. If, then, the procras tination ofattention is profitable, the
complete omis s ion of attention is moreprofitable; but if it is not profitable, why
do you not maintainyour attention cons tant? "To-day I choos e to play." Well then,
oughtyou not to play with attention? "I choos e to s ing." What, then,hinders you
from doing s o with attention? Is there any part of lifeexcepted, to which attention
does not extend? For will you do it wors eby us ing attention, and better by not
attending at all? And whatels e of things in life is done better by thos e who do not
us eattention? D oes he who works in wood work better by not attending toit? D oes the
captain of a s hip manage it better by not attending?and is any of the s maller acts
done better by inattention? D o younot s ee that, when you have let your mind loos e,
it is no longer inyour power to recall it, either to propriety, or to modes ty, or
tomoderation: but you do everything that comes into your mind inobedience to your
inclinations ? To what things then ought I to attend? Firs t to thos e general
(principles ) and to have them in readines s , and without them not tos leep, not to
ris e, not to drink, not to eat, not to convers e withmen; that no man is mas ter of
another man's will, but that in the willalone is the good and the bad. No man,
then, has the power either toprocure for me any good or to involve me in any evil,
but I alonemys elf over mys elf have power in thes e things . When, then, thes ethings
are s ecured to me, why need I be dis turbed about externalthings ? What tyrant is
formidable, what dis eas e, what poverty, whatoffens e? "Well, I
have not pleas ed a certain pers on." Is he then mywork, my judgement? "No." Why
then s hould I trouble mys elf abouthim? "But he is s uppos ed to be s ome one." He will
look to thathims elf; and thos e who think s o will als o. But I have One Whom I ought
to pleas e, to Whom I ought to s ubject mys elf, Whom I ought to obey,God and thos e
who are next to Him. He has placed me with mys elf, andhas put my will in obedience
to mys elf alone, and has given me rules for the right us e of it; and when I follow
thes e rules ins yllogis ms , I do not care for any man who s ays anything els e: in
s ophis tical argument, I care for no man. Why then in greater matters do thos e annoy
me who blame me? What is the caus e of this perturbation? Nothing els e than becaus e
in this matter I am notdis ciplined. For all knowledge des pis es ignorance and the
ignorant;and not only the s ciences , but even the arts . Produce any s hoemakerthat
you pleas e, and he ridicules the many in res pect to his own work.Produce any
carpenter. Firs t, then, we ought to have thes e in readines s , and to donothing
without them, and we ought to keep the s oul directed to this mark, to purs ue nothing
external, and nothing which belongs to others ,but to do as He has appointed Who has
the power; we ought to purs uealtogether the things which are in the power of the
will, and allother things as it is permitted. Next to this we ought to remember who
we are, and what is our name, and to endeavour to direct our duties toward the
character of our s everal relations in this manner: whatis the s eas on for s inging,
what is the s eas on for play, and in whos epres ence; what will be the cons equence of
the act; whether ouras s ociates will des pis e us , whether we s hall des pis e them; when
tojeer, and whom to ridicule; and on what occas ion to comply and withwhom; and
finally, in complying how to maintain our own character. Butwherever you have
deviated from any of thes e rules , there is damageimmediately, not from anything
external, but from the action its elf. What then? is it pos s ible to be free from
faults ? It is notpos s ible; but tills is pos s ible, to direct your efforts
inces s antly tobeing faultles s . For we mus t be content if by never remitting this
attention we s hall es cape at leas t a few errors . But now when you haves aid, "To-
morrow I will begin to attend," you mus t be told that youare s aying this , "To-day I
will be s hameles s , dis regardful of time andplace, mean; it will be in the power of
others to give me pain; to-dayI will be pas s ionate and envious ." See how many evil
things you arepermitting yours elf to do. If it is good to us e attention to-morrow,
how much better is it to do s o to-day? if to-morrow it is in yourinteres t to
attend, much more is it to-day, that you may be able to dos o to-morrow als o, and
may not defer it again to the third day. CHAPTER 13 Agains t or to thos e who
readily tell their own affairs When a man has s eemed to us to have talked with
s implicity about his own affairs , how is it that at las t we are ours elves als o
induced todis cover to him our own s ecrets and we think this to be candidbehavior?
In the firs t place, becaus e it s eems unfair for a man tohave lis tened to the
affairs of his neighbour, and not tocommunicate to him als o in turn our own
affairs : next, becaus e wethink that we s hall not pres ent to them the appearance of
candid menwhen we are s ilent about our own affairs . Indeed men are oftenaccus tomed
to s ay, "I have told you all my affairs , will you tell menothing of your own? where
is this done?" Bes ides , we have als o this opinion that we can s afely trus t him who
has already told us his ownaffairs ; for the notion ris es in our mind that this man
could neverdivulge our affairs becaus e he would be cautious that we als o s houldnot
divulge his . In this way als o the incautious are caught by thes oldiers at Rome. A
s oldier s its by you in a common dres s and begins to s peak ill of Caes ar; then you,
as if you had received a pledge ofhis fidelity by his having begun the abus e, utter
yours elf als o whatyou think, and then you are carried off in chains . Something of
this kind happens to us generally. Now as this manhas confidently intrus ted his
affairs to me, s hall I als o do s o to anyman whom I meet? For when I have heard, I
keep s ilence, if I am ofs uch a dis pos ition; but he goes forth and tells all men
what he has heard. Then if I hear what has been done, if I be a man like him, I
res olve to be revenged, I divulge what he has told me; I bothdis turb others and am
dis turbed mys elf. But if I remember that one mandoes not injure another, and that
every man's acts injure and profithim, I s ecure this , that I do not anything like
him, but s till Is uffer what I do s uffer through my own s illy talk. "True: but it
is unfair when you have heard the s ecrets of yourneighbour for you in turn to
communicate nothing to him." D id I as kyou for your s ecrets , my man? did you
communicate your affairs oncertain terms , that you s hould in return hear mine als o?
If you area babbler and think that all who meet you are friends , do you wis hme als o
to be like you? But why, if you did well in entrus ting youraffairs to me, and it is
not well for me to intrus t mine to you, doyou wis h me to be s o ras h? It is jus t the
s ame as if I had a cas kwhich is water-tight, and you one with a hole in it, and you
s houldcome and depos it with me your wine that I might put it into my cas k,and then
s hould complain that I als o did not intrus t my wine to you,for you have a cas k with
a hole in it. How then is there anyequality here? You intrus ted your affairs to a
man who is faithful andmodes t, to a man who thinks that his own actions alone are
injurious and us eful, and that nothing external is . Would you have me intrus tmine to
you, a man who has dis honoured his own faculty of will, andwho wis hes to gain s ome
s mall bit of money or s ome office or promotionin the court, even if you s hould be
going to murder your own children,like Medea? Where is this equality? But s how
yours elf to me to befaithful, modes t, and s teady: s how me that you have friendly
opinions ;s how that your cas k has no hole in it; and you will s ee how I s hallnot
wait for you to trus t me with your affairs , but I mys elf s hallcome to you and as k
you to hear mine. For who does not choos e tomake us e of a good ves s el? Who does not
value a benevolent andfaithful advis er? who will not willingly receive a man who is
ready tobear a s hare, as we may s ay, of the difficulty of his circums tances ,and by
this very act to eas e the burden, by taking a part of it. "True: but I trus t you;
you do not trus t me." In the firs t place,not even do you trus t me, but you are a
babbler, and for this reas onyou cannot hold anything; for indeed, if it is true
that you trus t me,trus t your affairs to me only; but now, whenever you s ee a man at
leis ure, you s eat yours elf by him and s ay: "Brother, I have nofriend more
benevolent than you nor dearer; I reques t you to lis ten tomy affairs ." And you do
this even to thos e who are not known to you atall. But if you really trus t me, it
is plain that you trus t me becaus eI am faithful and modes t, not becaus e I have told
my affairs to you.Allow me, then, to have the s ame opinion about you. Show me that,
ifone man tells his affairs to another, he who tells them is faithfuland modes t.
For if this were s o, I would go about and tell myaffairs to every man, if that
would make me faithful and modes t. Butthe thing is not s o, and it requires no
common opinions . If, then, yous ee a man who is bus y about things not dependent on
his will ands ubjecting his will to them, you mus t know that this man has ten
thous and pers ons to compel and hinder him. He has no need of pitchor the wheel to
compel him to declare what he knows : but a littlegirl's nod, if it s hould s o
happen, will move him, the blandis hment ofone who belongs to Caes ar's court, des ire
of a magis tracy or of aninheritance, and things without end of that s ort. You mus t
remember,then, among general principles that s ecret dis cours es require fidelityand
corres ponding opinions . But where can we now find thes e eas ily? Orif you cannot
ans wer that ques tion, let s ome one point out to me a manwho can s ay: "I care only
about the things which are my own, thethings which are not s ubject to hindrance,
the things which are bynature free." This I hold to be the nature of the good: but
let allother things be as they are allowed; I do not concern mys elf.
-THE END -.