A Selection from the Discourses of Epictetus With the Encheiridion - Epictetus
Much from his head he tore his rooted hair:
Iliad, x., 15.
and what does he say himself?
"I am perplexed," he says, "and
Disturb'd I am," and "my heart out of my bosom
Is leaping."
Iliad, x., 91.
Wretch, which of your affairs goes badly? Your possessions? No. Your
body? No. But you are rich in gold and copper. What then is the matter
with you? That part of you, whatever it is, has been neglected by you
and is corrupted, the part with which we desire, with which we avoid,
with which we move towards and move from things. How neglected? He knows
not the nature of good for which he is made by nature and the nature of
evil; and what is his own, and what belongs to another; and when
anything that belongs to others goes badly, he says, Woe to me, for the
Hellenes are in danger. Wretched is his ruling faculty, and alone
neglected and uncared for. The Hellenes are going to die destroyed by
the Trojans. And if the Trojans do not kill them, will they not die?
Yes; but not all at once. What difference then does it make? For if
death is an evil, whether men die altogether, or if they die singly, it
is equally an evil. Is anything else then going to happen than the
separation of the soul and the body? Nothing. And if the Hellenes
perish, is the door closed, and is it not in your power to die? It is.
Why then do you lament (and say), Oh, you are a king and have the
sceptre of Zeus? An unhappy king does not exist more than an unhappy
god. What then art thou? In truth a shepherd: for you weep as shepherds
do, when a wolf has carried off one of their sheep: and these who are
governed by you are sheep. And why did you come hither? Was your desire
in any danger? was your aversion ([Greek: echchlisis])? was your
movement (pursuits)? was your avoidance of things? He replies, No; but
the wife of my brother was carried off. Was it not then a great gain to
be deprived of an adulterous wife? Shall we be despised then by the
Trojans? What kind of people are the Trojans, wise or foolish? If they
are wise, why do you fight with them? If they are fools, why do you care
about them?
Do you possess the body then free or is it in servile condition? We do
not know. Do you not know that it is the slave of fever, of gout,
ophthalmia, dysentery, of a tyrant, of fire, of iron, of everything
which is stronger? Yes, it is a slave. How then is it possible that
anything which belongs to the body can be free from hindrance? and how
is a thing great or valuable which is naturally dead, or earth, or mud?
Well then, do you possess nothing which is free? Perhaps nothing. And
who is able to compel you to assent to that which appears false? No man.
And who can compel you not to assent to that which appears true? No man.
By this then you see that there is something in you naturally free. But
to desire or to be averse from, or to move towards an object or to move
from it, or to prepare yourself, or to propose to do anything, which of
you can do this, unless he has received an impression of the appearance
of that which is profitable or a duty? No man. You have then in these
things also something which is not hindered and is free. Wretched men,
work out this, take care of this, seek for good here.
* * * * *
THAT WE OUGHT NOT TO BE MOVED BY A DESIRE OF THOSE THINGS WHICH ARE NOT
IN OUR POWER.--Let not that which in another is contrary to nature be an
evil to you; for you are not formed by nature to be depressed with
others nor to be unhappy with others, but to be happy with them. If a
man is unhappy, remember that his unhappiness is his own fault; for God
has made all men to be happy, to be free from perturbations. For this
purpose he has given means to them, some things to each person as his
own, and other things not as his own; some things subject to hindrance
and compulsion and deprivation; and these things are not a man's own;
but the things which are not subject to hindrances, are his own; and the
nature of good and evil, as it was fit to be done by him who takes care
of us and protects us like a father, he has made our own. But you say, I
have parted from a certain person, and he is grieved. Why did he
consider as his own that which belongs to another? why, when he looked
on you and was rejoiced, did he not also reckon that you are a mortal,
that it is natural for you to part from him for a foreign country?
Therefore he suffers the consequences of his own folly. But why do you
or for what purpose bewail yourself? Is it that you also have not
thought of these things? but like poor women who are good for nothing,
you have enjoyed all things in which you took pleasure, as if you would
always enjoy them, both places and men and conversation; and now you sit
and weep because you do not see the same persons and do not live in the
same places. Indeed you deserve this, to be more wretched than crows and
ravens who have the power of flying where they please and changing their
nests for others, and crossing the seas without lamenting or regretting
their former condition. Yes, but this happens to them because they are
irrational creatures. Was reason then given to us by the gods for the
purpose of unhappiness and misery, that we may pass our lives in
wretchedness and lamentation? Must all persons be immortal and must no
man go abroad, and must we ourselves not go abroad, but remain rooted
like plants; and if any of our familiar friends goes abroad, must we sit
and weep; and on the contrary, when he returns, must we dance and clap
our hands like children?
But my mother laments when she does not see me. Why has she not learned
these principles? and I do not say this, that we should not take care
that she may not lament, but I say that we ought not to desire in every
way what is not our own. And the sorrow of another is another's sorrow;
but my sorrow is my own. I then will stop my own sorrow by every means,
for it is in my power; and the sorrow of another I will endeavor to stop
as far as I can; but I will not attempt to do it by every means; for if
I do, I shall be fighting against God, I shall be opposing Zeus and
shall be placing myself against him in the administration of the
universe; and the reward (the punishment) of this fighting against God
and of this disobedience not only will the children of my children pay,
but I also shall myself, both by day and by night, startled by dreams,
perturbed, trembling at every piece of news, and having my tranquillity
depending on the letters of others. Some person has arrived from Rome. I
only hope there is no harm. But what harm can happen to you, where you
are not? From Hellas (Greece) some one is come; I hope that there is no
harm. In this way every place may be the cause of misfortune to you. Is
it not enough for you to be unfortunate there where you are, and must
you be so even beyond sea, and by the report of letters? Is this the way
in which your affairs are in a state of security? Well then suppose that
my friends have died in the places which are far from me. What else have
they suffered than that which is the condition of mortals? Or how are
you desirous at the same time to live to old age, and at the same time
not to see the death of any person whom you love? Know you not that in
the course of a long time many and various kinds of things must happen;
that a fever shall overpower one, a robber another, and a third a
tyrant? Such is the condition of things around us, such are those who
live with us in the world; cold and heat, and unsuitable ways of living,
and journeys by land, and voyages by sea, and winds, and various
circumstances which surround us, destroy one man, and banish another,
and throw one upon an embassy and another into an army. Sit down then in
a flutter at all these things, lamenting, unhappy, unfortunate,
dependent on another, and dependent not on one or two, but on ten
thousands upon ten thousands.
Did you hear this when you were with the philosophers? did you learn
this? do you not know that human life is a warfare? that one man must
keep watch, another must go out as a spy, and a third must fight? and it
is not possible that all should be in one place, nor is it better that
it should be so. But you neglecting to do the commands of the general
complain when anything more hard than usual is imposed on you, and you
do not observe what you make the army become as far as it is in your
power; that if all imitate you, no man will dig a trench, no man will
put a rampart round, nor keep watch, nor expose himself to danger, but
will appear to be useless for the purposes of an army. Again, in a
vessel if you go as a sailor, keep to one place and stick to it. And if
you are ordered to climb the mast, refuse; if to run to the head of the
ship, refuse; and what master of a ship will endure you? and will he not
pitch you overboard as a useless thing, an impediment only and bad
example to the other sailors? And so it is here also: every man's life
is a kind of warfare, and it is long and diversified. You must observe
the duty of a soldier and do every thing at the nod of the general; if
it is possible, divining what his wishes are; for there is no
resemblance between that general and this, neither in strength nor in
superiority of character. Know you not that a good man does nothing for
the sake of appearance, but for the sake of doing right? What advantage
is it then to him to have done right? And what advantage is it to a man
who writes the name of Dion to write it as he ought? The advantage is to
have written it. Is there no reward then? Do you seek a reward for a
good man greater than doing what is good and just? At Olympia you wish
for nothing more, but it seems to you enough to be crowned at the games.
Does it seem to you so small and worthless a thing to be good and happy?
For these purposes being introduced by the gods into this city (the
world), and it being now your duty to undertake the work of a man, do
you still want nurses also and a mamma, and do foolish women by their
weeping move you and make you effeminate? Will you thus never cease to
be a foolish child? know you not that he who does the acts of a child,
the older he is, the more ridiculous he is?
So in this matter also: if you kiss your own child, or your brother or
friend, never give full license to the appearance ([Greek: phantasian]),
and allow not your pleasure to go as far as it chooses; but check it,
and curb it as those who stand behind men in their triumphs and remind
them that they are mortal. Do you also remind yourself in like manner,
that he whom you love is mortal, and that what you love is nothing of
your own; it has been given to you for the present, not that it should
not be taken from you, nor has it been given to you for all time, but as
a fig is given to you or a bunch of grapes at the appointed season of
the year. But if you wish for these things in winter, you are a fool. So
if you wish for your son or friend when it is not allowed to you, you
must know that you are wishing for a fig in winter. For such as winter
is to a fig, such is every event which happens from the universe to the
things which are taken away according to its nature. And further, at the
times when you are delighted with a thing, place before yourself the
contrary appearances. What harm is it while you are kissing your child
to say with a lisping voice: To-morrow you will die; and to a friend
also: To-morrow you will go away or I shall, and never shall we see one
another again? But these are words of bad omen--and some incantations
also are of bad omen; but because they are useful, I don't care for
this; only let them be useful. But do you call things to be of bad omen
except those which are significant of some evil? Cowardice is a word of
bad omen, and meanness of spirit, and sorrow, and grief, and
shamelessness. These words are of bad omen; and yet we ought not to
hesitate to utter them in order to protect ourselves against the things.
Do you tell me that a name which is significant of any natural thing is
of evil omen? say that even for the ears of corn to be reaped is of bad
omen, for it signifies the destruction of the ears, but not of the
world. Say that the falling of the leaves also is of bad omen, and for
the dried fig to take the place of the green fig, and for raisins to be
made from the grapes. For all these things are changes from a former
state into other states; not a destruction, but a certain fixed economy
and administration. Such is going away from home and a small change:
such is death, a greater change, not from the state which now is to that
which is not, but to that which is not now. Shall I then no longer
exist? You will not exist, but you will be something else, of which the
world now has need; for you also came into existence not when you chose,
but when the world had need of you.
Let these thoughts be ready to hand by night and by day; these you
should write, these you should read; about these you should talk to
yourself and to others. Ask a man: Can you help me at all for this
purpose? and further, go to another and to another. Then if anything
that is said be contrary to your wish, this reflection first will
immediately relieve you, that it is not unexpected. For it is a great
thing in all cases to say: I knew that I begot a son who is mortal. For
so you also will say: 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 prison. Then if you turn round and look to yourself, and seek the
place from which comes that which has happened, you will forthwith
recollect that it comes from the place of things which are out of the
power of the will, and of things which are not my own. What then is it
to me? Then, you will ask, and this is the chief thing: And who is it
that sent it? The leader, or the general, the state, the law of the
state. Give it me then, for I must always obey the law in everything.
Then, when the appearance (of things) pains you, for it is not in your
power to prevent this, contend against it by the aid of reason, conquer
it: do not allow it to gain strength nor to lead you to the consequences
by raising images such as it pleases and as it pleases. If you be in
Gyara, do not imagine the mode of living at Rome, and how many pleasures
there were for him who 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 Gyara ought 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
the life in Rome.
Then in the place of all other delights substitute this, that of being
conscious that you are obeying God, that not in word, but in deed you
are performing the acts of a wise and good man. For what a thing it is
for a man to be able to say to himself: Now whatever the rest may say in
solemn manner in the schools and may be judged to be saying in a way
contrary to common opinion (or in a strange way), this I am doing; and
they are sitting and are discoursing of my virtues and inquiring about
me and praising me; and of this Zeus has willed that I shall receive
from myself a demonstration, and shall myself know if he has a soldier
such as he ought to have, a citizen such as he ought to have, and if he
has chosen to produce me to the rest of mankind as a witness of the
things which are independent of the will: See that you fear without
reason, that you foolishly desire what you do desire; seek not the good
in things external; seek it in yourselves: if you do not, you will not
find it. For this purpose he leads me at one time hither, at another
time sends me thither, shows me to men as poor, without authority, and
sick; sends me to Gyara, leads me into prison, not because he hates
me--far from him be such a meaning, for who hates the best of his
servants? nor yet because he cares not for me, for he does not neglect
any even of the smallest things; but he does this for the purpose of
exercising me and making use of me as a witness to others. Being
appointed to such a service, do I still care about the place in which I
am, or with whom I am, or what men say about me? and do I not entirely
direct my thoughts to God and to his instructions and commands?
Having these things (or thoughts) always in hand, and exercising them by
yourself, and keeping them in readiness, you will never be in want of
one to comfort you and strengthen you. For it is not shameful to be
without something to eat, but not to have reason sufficient for keeping
away fear and sorrow. But if once you have gained exemption from sorrow
and fear, will there any longer be a tyrant for you, or a tyrant's
guard, or attendants on Caesar? Or shall any appointment to offices at
court cause you pain, or shall those who sacrifice in the Capitol on the
occasion of being named to certain functions, cause pain to you who have
received so great authority from Zeus? Only do not make a proud display
of it, nor boast of it; but show it by your acts; and if no man
perceives it, be satisfied that you are yourself in a healthy state and
happy.
* * * * *
TO THOSE WHO FALL OFF (DESIST) FROM THEIR PURPOSE.--Consider as to the
things which you proposed to yourself at first, which you have secured,
and which you have not; and how you are pleased when you recall to
memory the one, and are pained about the other; and if it is possible,
recover the things wherein you failed. For we must not shrink when we
are engaged in the greatest combat, but we must even take blows. For the
combat before us is not in wrestling and the Pancration, in which both
the successful and the unsuccessful may have the greatest merit, or may
have little, and in truth may be very fortunate or very unfortunate; but
the combat is for good fortune and happiness themselves. Well then, even
if we have renounced the contest in this matter (for good fortune and
happiness), no man hinders us from renewing the combat again, and we are
not compelled to wait for another four years that the games at Olympia
may come again; but as soon as you have recovered and restored yourself,
and employ the same zeal, you may renew the combat 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 never renounced the combat. Only do
not through a habit of doing the same thing (renouncing the combat),
begin to do it with pleasure, and then like a bad athlete go about after
being conquered in all the circuit of the games like quails who have run
away.
* * * * *
TO THOSE WHO FEAR WANT.--Are you not ashamed at being more cowardly and
more mean than fugitive slaves? How do they when they run away leave
their masters? on what estates do they depend, and what domestics do
they rely on? Do they not after stealing a little, which is enough for
the first days, then afterwards move on through land or through sea,
contriving one method after another for maintaining their lives? And
what fugitive slave ever died of hunger? But you are afraid lest
necessary things should fail you, and are sleepless by night. Wretch,
are you so blind, and don't you see the road to which the want of
necessaries leads?--Well, where does it lead?--to the same place to
which a fever leads, or a stone that falls on you, to death. Have you
not often said this yourself to your companions? have you not read much
of this kind, and written much? and how often have you boasted that you
were easy as to death?
Learn then first what are the things which are shameful, and then tell
us that you are a philosopher: but at present do not, even if any other
man calls you so, allow it.
Is that shameful to you which is not your own act, that of which you are
not the cause, that which has come to you by accident, as a headache, as
a fever? If your parents were poor, and left their property to others,
and if while they live, they do not help you at all, is this shameful to
you? Is this what you learned with the philosophers? Did you never hear
that the thing which is shameful ought 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 do himself? Did you then make your father such
as he is, or is it in your power to improve him? Is this power given to
you? Well then, ought you to wish the things which are not given to you,
or to be ashamed if you do not obtain them? And have you also been
accustomed while you were studying philosophy to look to others and to
hope for nothing from yourself? Lament then and groan and eat with fear
that you may not have food to-morrow. Tremble about your poor slaves
lest they steal, lest they run away, lest they die. So live, and
continue to live, you who in name only have approached philosophy, and
have disgraced its theorems as far as you can by showing them to be
useless and unprofitable to those who take them up; you, who have never
sought constancy, freedom from perturbation, and from passions; you who
have not sought any person for the sake of this object, but many for the
sake of syllogisms; you who have never thoroughly examined any of these
appearances by yourself, Am I able to bear, or am I not able to bear?
What remains for me to do? But as if all your affairs were well and
secure, you have been resting on the third topic, that of things being
unchanged, in order that you may possess unchanged--what? cowardice,
mean spirit, the admiration of the rich, desire without attaining any
end, and avoidance ([Greek: echchlisin]) which fails in the attempt?
About security in these things you have been anxious.
Ought you not to have gained something in addition from reason, and then
to have protected this with security? And whom did you ever see building
a battlement all around and encircling it with a wall? And what
doorkeeper is placed with no door to watch? But you practise in order to
be able to prove--what? You practise that you may not be tossed as on
the sea through sophisms, and tossed about from what? Show me first what
you hold, what you measure, or what you weigh; and show me the scales or
the medimnus (the measure); or how long will you go on measuring the
dust? Ought you not to demonstrate those things which make men happy,
which make things go on for them in the way as they wish, and why we
ought to blame no man, accuse no man, and acquiesce in the
administration of the universe?
* * * * *
ABOUT FREEDOM.--He is free who lives as he wishes to live; who is
neither subject to compulsion nor to hindrance, nor to force; whose
movements to action ([Greek: hormai]) are not impeded, whose desires
attain their purpose, and who does not fall into that which he would
avoid ([Greek: echchliseis aperiptotoi]). Who then chooses to live in
error? No man. Who chooses to live deceived, liable to mistake, unjust,
unrestrained, discontented, mean? No man. Not one then of the bad lives
as he wishes; nor is he then free. And who chooses to live in sorrow,
fear, envy, pity, desiring and failing in his desires, attempting to
avoid something and falling into it? Not one. Do we then find any of the
bad free from sorrow, free from fear, who does not fall into that which
he would avoid, and does not obtain that which he wishes? Not one; nor
then do we find any bad man free.
Further, then, answer me this question, also: does freedom seem to you
to be something great and noble and valuable? How should it not seem so?
Is it possible then when a man obtains anything so great and valuable
and noble to be mean? It is not possible. When then you see any man
subject to another or flattering him contrary to his own opinion,
confidently affirm that this man also is not free; and not only if he do
this for a bit of supper, but also if he does it for a government
(province) or a consulship; and call these men little slaves who for the
sake of little matters do these things, and those who do so for the sake
of great things call great slaves, as they deserve to be. This is
admitted also. Do you think that freedom is a thing independent and
self-governing? Certainly. Whomsoever then it is in the power of another
to hinder and compel, declare that he is not free. And do not look, I
entreat you, after his grandfathers and great-grandfathers, or inquire
about his being bought or sold, but if you hear him saying from his
heart and with feeling, "Master," even if the twelve fasces precede him
(as consul), call him a slave. And if you hear him say, "Wretch that I
am, how much I suffer," call him a slave. If, finally, you see him
lamenting, complaining, unhappy, call him a slave, though he wears a
praetexta. If, then, he is doing nothing of this kind do not yet say
that he is free, but learn his opinions, whether they are subject to
compulsion, or may produce hindrance, or to bad fortune, and if you find
him such, call him a slave who has a holiday in the Saturnalia; say that
his master is from home; he will return soon, and you will know what he
suffers.