A Selection from the Discourses of Epictetus With the Encheiridion - Epictetus
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HOW FROM THE FACT THAT WE ARE AKIN TO GOD A MAN MAY PROCEED TO THE
CONSEQUENCES.--I indeed think that the old man ought to be sitting here,
not to contrive how you may have no mean thoughts nor mean and ignoble
talk about yourselves, but to take care that there be not among us any
young men of such a mind, that when they have recognized their kinship
to God, and that we are fettered by these bonds, the body, I mean, and
its possessions, and whatever else on account of them is necessary to us
for the economy and commerce of life, they should intend to throw off
these things as if they were burdens painful and intolerable, and to
depart to their kinsmen. But this is the labor that your teacher and
instructor ought to be employed upon, if he really were what he should
be. You should come to him and say: Epictetus, we can no longer endure
being bound to this poor body, and feeding it, and giving it drink and
rest, and cleaning it, and for the sake of the body complying with the
wishes of these and of those. Are not these things indifferent and
nothing to us; and is not death no evil? And are we not in a manner
kinsmen of God, and did we not come from him? Allow us to depart to the
place from which we came; allow us to be released at last from these
bonds by which we are bound and weighed down. Here there are robbers and
thieves and courts of justice, and those who are named tyrants, and
think that they have some power over us by means of the body and its
possessions. Permit us to show them that they have no power over any
man. And I on my part would say: Friends, wait for God: when he shall
give the signal and release you from this service, then go to him; but
for the present endure to dwell in this place where he has put you.
Short indeed is this time of your dwelling here, and easy to bear for
those who are so disposed; for what tyrant, or what thief, or what
courts of justice are formidable to those who have thus considered as
things of no value the body and the possessions of the body? Wait then,
do not depart without a reason.
* * * * *
OF CONTENTMENT.--With respect to gods, there are some who say that a
divine being does not exist; others say that it exists, but is inactive
and careless, and takes no forethought about anything; a third class say
that such a being exists and exercises forethought, but only about great
things and heavenly things, and about nothing on the earth; a fourth
class say that a divine being exercises forethought both about things on
the earth and heavenly things, but in a general way only, and not about
things severally. There is a fifth class to whom Ulysses and Socrates
belong, who say:
I move not without thy knowledge.--Iliad, x., 278.
Before all other things then it is necessary to inquire about each of
these opinions, whether it is affirmed truly or not truly. For if there
are no gods, how is it our proper end to follow them? And if they exist,
but take no care of anything, in this case also how will it be right to
follow them? But if indeed they do exist and look after things, still if
there is nothing communicated from them to men, nor in fact to myself,
how even so is it right (to follow them)? The wise and good man then,
after considering all these things, submits his own mind to him who
administers the whole, as good citizens do to the law of the state. He
who is receiving instruction ought to come to be instructed with this
intention, How shall I follow the gods in all things, how shall I be
contented with the divine administration, 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 freedom madness? Certainly not; for
madness and freedom do not consist. But, you say, I would have
everything result just as I like, and in whatever way I like. You are
mad, you are beside yourself. Do you not know that freedom is a noble
and valuable thing? But for me inconsiderately to wish for things to
happen as I inconsiderately like, this appears to be not only not noble,
but even most base. For how do we proceed in the matter of writing? Do I
wish to write the name of Dion as I choose? No, but I am taught to
choose to write it as it ought to be written. And how with respect to
music? In the same manner. And what universally in every art or science?
Just the same. If it were not so, it would be of no value to know
anything, if knowledge were adapted to every man's whim. Is it then in
this alone, in this which is the greatest and the chief thing, I mean
freedom, that I am permitted to will inconsiderately? By no means; but
to be instructed is this, to learn to wish that everything may happen as
it does. And how do things happen? As the disposer has disposed them?
And he has appointed summer and winter, and abundance and scarcity, and
virtue and vice, and all such opposites for the harmony of the whole;
and to each of us he has given a body, and parts of the body, and
possessions, and companions.
What then remains, or what method is discovered of holding commerce with
them? Is there such a method by which they shall do what seems fit to
them, and we not the less shall be in a mood which is conformable to
nature? But you are unwilling to endure, and are discontented; and if
you are alone, you call it solitude; and if you are with men, you call
them knaves and robbers; and you find fault with your own parents and
children, and brothers and neighbors. But you ought when you are alone
to call this condition by the name of tranquillity and freedom, and to
think yourself like to the gods; and when you are with many, you ought
not to call it crowd, nor trouble, nor uneasiness, but festival and
assembly, and so accept all contentedly.
What then is the punishment of those who do not accept? It is to be what
they are. Is any person dissatisfied with being alone? Let him be alone.
Is a man dissatisfied with his parents? Let him be a bad son, and
lament. Is he dissatisfied with his children? Let him be a bad father.
Cast him into prison. What prison? Where he is already, for he is there
against his will; and where a man is against his will, there he is in
prison. So Socrates was not in prison, for he was there willingly. Must
my leg then be lamed? Wretch, do you then on account of one poor leg
find fault with the world? Will you not willingly surrender it for the
whole? Will you not withdraw from it? Will you not gladly part with it
to him who gave it? And will you be vexed and discontented with the
things established by Zeus, which he, with the Moirae (fates) who were
present and spinning the thread of your generation, defined and put in
order? Know you not how small a part you are compared with the whole. I
mean with respect to the body, for as to intelligence you are not
inferior to the gods nor less; for the magnitude of intelligence is not
measured by length nor yet by height, but by thoughts.
* * * * *
HOW EVERYTHING MAY BE DONE ACCEPTABLY TO THE GODS.--When some one asked,
How may a man eat acceptably to the gods, he answered: If he can eat
justly and contentedly, and with equanimity, and temperately, and
orderly, will it not be also acceptable to the gods? But when you have
asked for warm water and the slave has not heard, or if he did hear has
brought only tepid water, or he is not even found to be in the house,
then not to be vexed or to burst with passion, is not this acceptable to
the gods? How then shall a man endure such persons as this slave? Slave
yourself, will you not bear with your own brother, who has Zeus for his
progenitor, and is like a son from the same seeds and of the same
descent from above? But if you have been put in any such higher place,
will you immediately make yourself a tyrant? Will you not remember who
you are, and whom you rule? That they are kinsmen, that they are
brethren by nature, that they are the offspring of Zeus? But I have
purchased them, and they have not purchased me. Do you see in what
direction you are looking, that it is towards the earth, towards the
pit, that it is towards these wretched laws of dead men? but towards the
laws of the gods you are not looking.
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WHAT PHILOSOPHY PROMISES.--When a man was consulting him how he should
persuade his brother to cease being angry with him, Epictetus replied:
Philosophy does not propose to secure for a man any external thing. If
it did (or if it were not, as I say), philosophy would be allowing
something which is not within its province. For as the carpenter's
material is wood, and that of the statuary is copper, so the matter of
the art of living is each man's life. When then is my brother's? That
again belongs to his own art; but with respect to yours, it is one of
the external things, like a piece of land, like health, like reputation.
But Philosophy promises none of these. In every circumstance I will
maintain, she says, the governing part conformable to nature. Whose
governing part? His in whom I am, she says.
How then shall my brother cease to be angry with me? Bring him to me and
I will tell him. But I have nothing to say to you about his anger.
When the man who was consulting him said, I seek to know this, How, even
if my brother is not reconciled to me, shall I maintain myself in a
state conformable to nature? Nothing great, said Epictetus, is produced
suddenly, since not even the grape or the fig is. If you say to me now
that you want a fig, I will answer to you that it requires time: let it
flower first, then put forth fruit, and then ripen. Is then the fruit of
a fig-tree not perfected suddenly and in one hour, and would you possess
the fruit of a man's mind in so short a time and so easily? Do not
expect it, even if I tell you.
* * * * *
THAT WE OUGHT NOT TO BE ANGRY WITH THE ERRORS (FAULTS) OF OTHERS.--Ought
not then this robber and this adulterer to be destroyed? By no means say
so, but speak rather in this way: This man who has been mistaken and
deceived about the most important things, and blinded, not in the
faculty of vision which distinguishes white and black, but in the
faculty which distinguishes good and bad, should we not destroy him? If
you speak thus you will see how inhuman this is which you say, and that
it is just as if you would say, Ought we not to destroy this blind and
deaf man? But if the greatest harm is the privation of the greatest
things, and the greatest thing in every man is the will or choice such
as it ought to be, and a man is deprived of this will, why are you also
angry with him? Man, you ought not to be affected contrary to nature by
the bad things of another. Pity him rather; drop this readiness to be
offended and to hate, and these words which the many utter: "These
accursed and odious fellows." How have you been made so wise at once?
and how are you so peevish? Why then are we angry? Is it because we
value so much the things of which these men rob us? Do not admire your
clothes, and then you will not be angry with the thief. Consider this
matter thus: you have fine clothes; your neighbor has not; you have a
window; you wish to air the clothes. The thief does not know wherein
man's good consists, but he thinks that it consist in having fine
clothes, the very thing which you also think. Must he not then come and
take them away? When you show a cake to greedy persons, and swallow it
all yourself, do you expect them not to snatch it from you? Do not
provoke them; do not have a window; do not air your clothes. I also
lately had an iron lamp placed by the side of my household gods; hearing
a noise at the door, I ran down, and found that the lamp had been
carried off. I reflected that he who had taken the lamp had done nothing
strange. What then? To-morrow, I said, you will find an earthen lamp;
for a man only loses that which he has. I have lost my garment. The
reason is that you had a garment. I have a pain in my head. Have you any
pain in your horns? Why then are you troubled? For we only lose those
things, we have only pains about those things, which we possess.
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? The will. This is
why the ancients taught the maxim, Know thyself. Therefore we ought to
exercise ourselves in small things, and beginning with them to proceed
to the greater. I have pain in the head. Do not say, Alas! I have pain
in the ear. Do not say alas! And I do not say that you are not allowed
to groan, but do not groan inwardly; and if your slave is slow in
bringing a bandage, do not cry out and torment yourself, and say, Every
body hates me; for who would not hate such a man? For the future,
relying on these opinions, walk about upright, free; not trusting to the
size of your body, as an athlete, for a man ought not to be invincible
in the way that an ass is.
* * * * *
HOW WE SHOULD BEHAVE TO TYRANTS.--If a man possesses any superiority, or
thinks that he does when he does not, such a man, if he is uninstructed,
will of necessity be puffed up through it. For instance, the tyrant
says, I am master of all! And what can you do for me? Can you give me
desire which shall have no hindrance? How can you? Have you the
infallible power of avoiding what you would avoid? Have you the power of
moving towards an object without error? And how do you possess this
power? Come, when you are in a ship, do you trust to yourself or to the
helmsman? And when you are in a chariot, to whom do you trust but to the
driver? And how is it in all other arts? Just the same. In what, then,
lies your power? All men pay respect to me. Well, I also pay respect to
my platter, and I wash it and wipe it; and for the sake of my oil-flask,
I drive a peg into the wall. Well, then, are these things superior to
me? No, but they supply some of my wants, and for this reason I take
care of them. Well, do I not attend to my ass? Do I not wash his feet?
Do I not clean him? Do you not know that every man has regard to
himself, and to you just the same as he has regard to his ass? For who
has regard to you as a man? Show me. Who wishes to become like you? Who
imitates you, as he imitates Socrates? But I can cut off your head. You
say right. I had forgotten that I must have regard to you, as I would to
a fever and the bile, and raise an altar to you, as there is at Rome an
altar to fever.
What is it then that disturbs and terrifies the multitude? Is it the
tyrant and his guards? (By no means.) I hope that it is not so. It is
not possible that what is by nature free can be disturbed by anything
else, or hindered by any other thing than by itself. But it is a man's
own opinions which disturb him. For when the tyrant says to a man, I
will chain your leg, he who values his leg says, Do not; have pity. But
he who values his own will says, If it appears more advantageous to you,
chain it. Do you not care? I do not care. I will show you that I am
master. You cannot do that. Zeus has set me free; do you think that he
intended to allow his own son to be enslaved? But you are master of my
carcase; take it. So when you approach me, you have no regard to me? No,
but I have regard to myself; and if you wish me to say that I have
regard to you also, I tell you that I have the same regard to you that I
have to my pipkin.
What then? When absurd notions about things independent of our will, as
if they were good and (or) bad, lie at the bottom of our opinions, we
must of necessity pay regard to tyrants: for I wish that men would pay
regard to tyrants only, and not also to the bedchamber men. How is it
that the man becomes all at once wise, when Caesar has made him
superintendent of the close stool? How is it that we say immediately,
Felicion spoke sensibly to me? I wish he were ejected from the
bedchamber, that he might again appear to you to be a fool.
Has a man been exalted to the tribuneship? All who meet him offer their
congratulations; one kisses his eyes, another the neck, and the slaves
kiss his hands. He goes to his house, he finds torches lighted. He
ascends the Capitol; he offers a sacrifice on the occasion. Now who ever
sacrificed for having had good desires? for having acted conformably to
nature? For in fact we thank the gods for those things in which we place
our good.
A person was talking to me to-day about the priesthood of Augustus. I
say to him: Man, let the thing alone; you will spend much for no
purpose. But he replies, Those who draw up agreements will write my
name. Do you then stand by those who read them, and say to such persons,
It is I whose name is written there? And if you can now be present on
ail such occasions, what will you do when you are dead? My name will
remain. Write it on a stone, and it will remain. But come, what
remembrance of you will there be beyond Nicopolis? But I shall wear a
crown of gold. If you desire a crown at all, take a crown of roses and
put it on, for it will be more elegant in appearance.
* * * * *
AGAINST THOSE WHO WISH TO BE ADMIRED.--When a man holds his proper
station in life, he does not gape after things beyond it. Man, what do
you wish to happen to you? I am satisfied if I desire and avoid
conformably to nature, if I employ movements towards and from an object
as I am by nature formed to do, and purpose and design and assent. Why
then do you strut before us as if you had swallowed a spit? My wish has
always been that those who meet me should admire me, and those who
follow me should exclaim, O the great philosopher! Who are they by whom
you wish to be admired? Are they not those of whom you are used to say
that they are mad? Well, then, do you wish to be admired by madmen?
* * * * *
ON PRAECOGNITIONS.--Praecognitions are common to all men, and praecognition
is not contradictory to praecognition. For who of us does not assume that
Good is useful and eligible, and in all circumstances that we ought to
follow and pursue it? And who of us does not assume that Justice is
beautiful and becoming? When then does the contradiction arise? It
arises in the adaptation of the praecognitions to the particular cases.
When one man says, "He has done well; he is a brave man," and another
says, "Not so; but he has acted foolishly," then the disputes arise
among men. This is the dispute among the Jews and the Syrians and the
Egyptians and the Romans; not whether holiness should be preferred to
all things and in all cases should be pursued, but whether it is holy to
eat pig's flesh or not holy. You will find this dispute also between
Agamemnon and Achilles; for call them forth. What do you say, Agamemnon?
ought not that to be done which is proper and right? "Certainly." Well,
what do you say, Achilles? do you not admit that what is good ought to
be done? "I do most certainly." Adapt your praecognitions then to the
present matter. Here the dispute begins. Agamemnon says, "I ought not to
give up Chryseis to her father." Achilles says, "You ought." It is
certain that one of the two makes a wrong adaptation of the praecognition
of "ought" or "duty." Further, Agamemnon says, "Then if I ought to
restore Chryseis, it is fit that I take his prize from some of you."
Achilles replies, "Would you then take her whom I love?" "Yes, her whom
you love." "Must I then be the only man who goes without a prize? and
must I be the only man who has no prize?" Thus the dispute begins.
What then is education? Education is the learning how to adapt the
natural praecognitions to the particular things conformably to nature;
and then to distinguish that of things some are in our power, but others
are not. In our power are will and all acts which depend on the will;
things not in our power are the body, the parts of the body,
possessions, parents, brothers, children, country, and, generally, all
with whom we live in society. In what then should we place the good? To
what kind of things ([Greek: ousia]) shall we adapt it? To the things
which are in our power? Is not health then a good thing, and soundness
of limb, and life, and are not children and parents and country? Who
will tolerate you if you deny this?
Let us then transfer the notion of good to these things. Is it possible,
then, when a man sustains damage and does not obtain good things, that
he can be happy? It is not possible. And can he maintain towards society
a proper behavior? He can not. For I am naturally formed to look after
my own interest. If it is my interest to have an estate in land, it is
my interest also to take it from my neighbor. If it is my interest to
have a garment, it is my interest also to steal it from the bath. This
is the origin of wars, civil commotions, tyrannies, conspiracies. And
how shall I be still able to maintain my duty towards Zeus? For if I
sustain damage and am unlucky, he takes no care of me. And what is he to
me if he cannot help me? And further, 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 setup statues to Zeus, as well as to evil
demons, such as to Fever; and how is Zeus the Saviour, and how the giver
of rain, and the giver of fruits? And in truth if we place the nature of
Good in any such things, all this follows.
What should we do then? This is the inquiry of the true philosopher who
is in labor. Now I do not see what the good is nor the bad. Am I not
mad? Yes. But suppose that I place the good somewhere among the things
which depend on the will; all will laugh at me. There will come some
greyhead wearing many gold rings on his fingers, and he will shake his
head and say: "Hear, my child. It is right that you should philosophize;
but you ought to have some brains also; all this that you are doing is
silly. You learn the syllogism from philosophers; but you know how to
act better than philosophers do." Man why then do you blame me, if I
know? What shall I say to this slave? If I am silent, he will burst. I
must speak in this way: "Excuse me, as you would excuse lovers; I am not
my own master; I am mad."
* * * * *
HOW WE SHOULD STRUGGLE WITH CIRCUMSTANCES.--It is circumstances
(difficulties) which show what men are. Therefore when a difficulty
falls upon you, remember that God, like a trainer of wrestlers, has
matched you with a rough young man. For what purpose? you may say. Why,
that you may become an Olympic conqueror; but it is not accomplished
without sweat. In my opinion no man has had a more profitable difficulty
than you have had, if you choose to make use of it as an athlete would
deal with a young antagonist. We are now sending a scout to Rome; but no
man sends a cowardly scout, who, if he only hears a noise and sees a
shadow anywhere, comes running back in terror and reports that the enemy
is close at hand. So now if you should come and tell us: "Fearful is the
state of affairs at Rome; terrible is death; terrible is exile; terrible
is calumny; terrible is poverty; fly, my friends, the enemy is near," we
shall answer: "Begone, prophesy for yourself; we have committed only one
fault, that we sent such a scout."
Diogenes, who was sent as a scout before you, made a different report to
us. He says that death is no evil, for neither is it base; he says that
fame (reputation) is the noise of madmen. And what has this spy said
about pain, about pleasure, and about poverty? He says that to be naked
is better than any purple robe, and to sleep on the bare ground is the
softest bed; and he gives as a proof of each thing that he affirms his
own courage, his tranquillity, his freedom, and the healthy appearance
and compactness of his body. There is no enemy near, he says; all is
peace. How so, Diogenes? "See," he replies, "if I am struck, if I have
been wounded, if I have fled from any man." This is what a scout ought
to be. But you come to us and tell us one thing after another. Will you
not go back, and you will see clearer when you have laid aside fear?
* * * * *
ON THE SAME.--If these things are true, and if we are not silly, and are
not acting hypocritically when we say that the good of man is in the
will, and the evil too, and that everything else does not concern us,
why are we still disturbed, why are we still afraid? The things about
which we have been busied are in no man's power; and the things which
are in the power of others, we care not for. What kind of trouble have
we still?
But give me directions. Why should I give you directions? Has not Zeus
given you directions? Has he not given to you what is your own free from
hindrance and free from impediment, and what is not your own subject to
hindrance and impediment? What directions then, what kind of orders did
you bring when you came from him? Keep by every means what is your own;
do not desire what belongs to others. Fidelity (integrity) is your own,
virtuous shame is your own; who then can take these things from you? who
else than yourself will hinder you from using them? But how do you act?
When you seek what is not your own, you lose that which is your own.
Having such promptings and commands from Zeus, what kind do you still
ask from me? Am I more powerful than he, am I more worthy of confidence?
But if you observe these, do you want any others besides? "Well, but he
has not given these orders," you will say. Produce your praecognitions
([Greek: prolaepseis]), produce these proofs of philosophers, produce
what you have often heard, and produce what you have said yourself,
produce what you have read, produce what you have meditated on; and you
will then see that all these things are from God.