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OXFORD WORLD’S CLASSICS

EPICTETUS
Discourses, Fragments, Handbook

Translated by
ROBIN HARD

With an Introduction and Notes by

CHRISTOPHER GILL
OXFORD WORLD’S CLASSICS
 DISCOURSES, FRAGMENTS, HANDBOOK

EPICTETUS (c.50–c.135) was an influential teacher of Stoic ethical philosophy.

He was born a slave in Hierapolis (modern Anatolia), and was owned for a while
by Epaphroditus, a powerful freedman (ex-slave) at the court of Nero in Rome.
He studied with the Stoic teacher Musonius Rufus and taught philosophy in
Rome. When banished, along with other philosophers, from Rome in 89 by the
emperor Domitian, he set up a school in Nicopolis in Greece on the Adriatic
coast and taught there until his death. He did not marry but adopted an infant
child late in life. Epictetus’ school was well known and attracted many students
and visitors, including Hadrian (emperor 117–38).

Arrian (c.86–160), later an important historian, studied with Epictetus in his

youth, perhaps in 107–9. Arrian recorded and published Epictetus’ informal
lectures and conversations on ethics, in eight books, of which four books and
some fragments survive. These are the Discourses; Arrian also wrote a summary
of main themes, the Handbook or Manual (Enchiridion). Epictetus uses these
conversations to bring out key principles of Stoic ethics, and conveys these in
vivid, accessible language. He aims to show that Stoic ethics can have a
transforming influence on the way you live and offers a powerful pathway to
human happiness. These writings made Epictetus one of the best-known Stoic
teachers in antiquity; they strongly influenced the Meditations, a philosophical
diary by Marcus Aurelius (emperor 161–80). They have attracted the interest of
many readers and thinkers in later antiquity and from the sixteenth century to the
present. In the modern world, Epictetus helped to shape the development of
cognitive psychotherapy and is becoming more widely used in ‘guide-to-life’
writings.

ROBIN HARD has translated Apollodorus’ Library of Greek Mythology and

Diogenes the Cynic, Sayings and Anecdotes, for Oxford World’s Classics, and is
the author of The Routledge Handbook of Greek Mythology.
CHRISTOPHER GILL is Professor of Ancient Thought at the University of Exeter.
He has written extensively on ancient philosophy, especially on Hellenistic and
Roman ethics and psychology.
 CONTENTS

Introduction
Note on the Text and Translation
Select Bibliography
A Chronology of Epictetus

DISCOURSES
Prefatory Letter
BOOK 1

BOOK 2

BOOK 3

BOOK 4

FRAGMENTS

HANDBOOK
Explanatory Notes
Index of Names
Index of Themes
 INTRODUCTION

EPICTETUS’ Discourses form one of three compelling statements of Stoic

practical ethics from the early Roman Empire; the other two are Seneca’s Letters
and Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations. Epictetus’ work is in some ways the most
important. Epictetus, unlike the other two thinkers, was a formal Stoic teacher
and one of the best known of his age. The Discourses and Handbook are
forceful, direct, and challenging, and are expressed in a way that is accessible to
a very wide range of people. They set out the core ethical principles of Stoicism
in a form designed to help people put them into practice and to use them as a
basis for leading a good human life. One central message is that the basis for
happiness or well-being is ‘up to us’ and that we all have the capacity to move
towards this state, regardless of our specific social context or individual
character. A related theme is that making progress in this direction requires a
combination of sustained reflection and hard work, especially in embedding our
principles in our actions and relationships. Epictetus also stresses that this
capacity forms an integral and inalienable part of what makes human beings
distinctive in the natural universe, as well as the prime expression of what is
‘divine’ within us. Epictetus’ Discourses have been the most widely read and
influential of all Stoic writings, from antiquity onwards. They still speak
eloquently to modern readers and have taken on a new significance in recent
years as the basis for ‘life-guides’ and cognitive psychotherapy.

Epictetus’ Life and the Background to the Writings

We know little about Epictetus’ life (c.50–c.135);1 and most of what we know
comes from his writings. He was born in Hierapolis, a substantial city about a
hundred miles east of Ephesus in what is now south-western Turkey. He was
probably a slave by birth, and moved to Rome at some point, perhaps when he
was acquired by Epaphroditus, a freedman (ex-slave), who was a secretary and
influential figure during the rule of the emperors Nero (54–69) and Domitian
(81–96). Epictetus describes himself at one point as a lame old man (1.16.20);2
his lameness may have been the result of old age. It was probably while with
Epaphroditus that Epictetus gained experience of the ambition, jealousy, and
capriciousness of life at the imperial court that he evokes vividly in the
Discourses. Epaphroditus allowed him to study philosophy, while still a slave
(1.9.29), with Musonius Rufus (c.30–c.101), a well-known Stoic, some of whose
teachings on practical ethics have been recorded. At some stage, Epictetus was
freed by Epaphroditus and set himself up as a teacher at Rome, perhaps
supported by Musonius. In 89 the emperor Domitian banished all philosophers
from Italy, suspecting them of opposition to his regime. Epictetus settled in
Nicopolis in Epirus, in eastern Greece, a large and prosperous city, which was
easy for people to visit from Italy as well as Greece. He set up a school of
philosophy, which became quite famous, and was visited on one occasion by
Hadrian (emperor 117–38). He seems to have remained there, with short visits
elsewhere, until his death. He was single, dedicated to his teaching it would
seem; but we are told that late in life he adopted an infant who would otherwise
have died, and took a wife or partner to look after the child.

Although we normally refer to the Discourses and Handbook as works by

Epictetus, it seems that Epictetus, like Musonius and, more famously, Socrates
(469–399 BC), wrote nothing. These works constitute records of his teaching
preserved by Arrian, who studied with Epictetus as a young man, probably under
Trajan (emperor 105–13), when Epictetus was in his fifties or early sixties.
Arrian came from a wealthy Greek family in Nicomedia (on the south-western
coast of the Black Sea), and went on to have a distinguished political and
military career at Rome under Hadrian. He was also the author of a number of
historical works, including an important biography of Alexander the Great. Book
1 of the Discourses is prefaced in our manuscripts by a letter in which Arrian
presents them as a literal record of Epictetus’ teachings, based on the notes he
took as a student, and designed to reproduce the powerful effect that Epictetus
had on his listeners. Arrian may understate his own role in turning his notes into
written discourses, in monologue or dialogue form, of which each has its own
coherence and one (4.1) is extremely long. However, the simple language (Greek
‘common usage’, or koinē) and forceful directness of style are very different
from Arrian’s own writings; and so we may indeed be hearing something very
close to Epictetus’ own voice. It seems that Arrian originally wrote eight books,
of which only the first four survive, and that he himself produced the Handbook
(or Manual, Encheiridion) which is a summary of key themes from the
Discourses.3

What is the main function of the Discourses? Although we often refer to them as
Epictetus’ teachings, this is at least partly misleading. The writings are not
reports of Epictetus’ main formal instruction to his students. It is clear from
references in the Discourses that this took the form of exposition of major Stoic
treatises, especially by the third head of the school, Chrysippus (c.280–206 BC),
written exercises in logic, and probably some dialogues of Plato. Presumably the
lessons covered the three main parts of the Stoic curriculum, that is, ethics, logic,
and physics (study of nature), though logic seems to have been studied most
intensively.4 The Discourses record discussions that are more informal in
character, which took place in or around the school, probably in the open air.
Most of the discourses are directed, explicitly or by implication, at Epictetus’
students, that is, young men in their late teens or early twenties, many of whom
were living away from their families. This was a group of people whose
experience of practical or social life was often quite limited, but who were
already quite sophisticated in their knowledge of philosophy.

A recurrent theme of Epictetus’ teachings is that studying philosophy is not just

a matter of interpreting texts or developing facility in intellectual activities,
notably logical reasoning. It is a matter of learning to give an overall shape and
purpose to your life and of using your understanding to inform all aspects of
your actions, attitudes, and relationships.5 This view of the aim of philosophy
would have been widely accepted in the Hellenistic era (third to first centuries
BC) and in the first two centuries AD. The distinctive feature of Stoicism is the
claim that, as the Stoics put it, ‘virtue is the only good’, and that living
virtuously is the only proper overall goal of a human life, in comparison with
which other so-called good things are ‘matters of indifference’.6 Much of
Epictetus’ teaching is directed at underlining the point that the aim of studying
philosophy is to give your life an overall structure and sense of priorities in line
with the Stoic view of happiness, a message sometimes reinforced by criticism
of other ethical approaches, notably, the Epicurean (1.23, 2.20). Also, Epictetus
sets out to offer guidance about the way that this process should affect one’s
belief-set, emotions, personal relationships, and pattern of activities. Typically,
the addressees are presumed to be Epictetus’ students; sometimes he is presented
as talking to older men, who visited his school because they lived locally or were
attracted by his reputation (e.g. 2.4, 2.14, 2.24, 3.4, 3.7, 3.9). His message is
essentially the same in both cases, but is sometimes specifically directed to
people with more practical experience but with little previous study.7

Distinctive Themes: Relationship to Stoic Theory

If this is Epictetus’ overall aim in his teachings, how do the writings we have
reflect this aim? Is there an explicit or implied system of organization in the
Discourses and Handbook? How far do the topics covered in Epictetus’ works
correspond with those recognized as standard in Stoic theory? Does Epictetus
have original or innovative ideas, within Stoicism, that are put forward in these
records of his discussions? These are rather complex, sometimes debated,
questions, but ones that need to be addressed to make full sense of these
suggestive writings.

First, how far do the topics in the Discourses map onto recognized themes in
Stoic theory? As noted earlier, Stoic doctrines were, typically, subdivided
between logic, ethics, and physics (study of nature), all interpreted quite broadly.
At the same time, Stoic thinkers aimed to combine and synthesize the main
findings of these branches of knowledge, and certain ‘interface’ topics, notably
on the boundaries between ethics and physics or logic, were regarded as
especially important. Ethics is the main area relevant for Epictetus, though also
important are topics relating to connections with logic and physics.8 Here is a
standard list of Stoic ethical topics: motivation (hormē), good and bad, emotions
or passions (pathē), virtue, the end or goal of life (telos), value and actions,
‘appropriate actions’ (kathēkonta), modes of encouragement or discouragement.
Although we have lost all but quotations from the treatises on these subjects
from the heads of the Stoic school in the Hellenistic period, we have summaries
of Stoic ethics that match these headings.9 How far do the subjects of Epictetus’
writings relate to these summaries?

A simple glance at the titles of the Discourses, which seem to go back to Arrian,
shows that Epictetus’ topics do not map directly onto the standard headings or
subheadings of Stoic ethical theory. Epictetus’ subjects are more diverse,
localized, and repetitious; like the Socratic dialogues in Plato or Xenophon (a
significant background influence on the Discourses), they often focus on topics
that arose in exchanges between Epictetus and his various interlocutors.
However, it is also clear that Epictetus presupposes the contents of Stoic ethical
doctrines. In formulating an interpretative framework for the Discourses, how
useful is it to read them as reflecting the full range of those doctrines? In two
rather remarkable studies written at the end of the nineteenth century, Adolf
Bonhöffer set out to show that the themes of the Discourses could be correlated,
point for point, with standard topics and specific doctrines in Stoic ethics and
cognate areas, especially psychology.10 More recent scholars have suggested that
this gives an over-systematic view of the character of Epictetus’ discussions. A.
A. Long, for instance, in his monograph on the Discourses, highlights six broad
and partly overlapping types of topic, namely: theoretical, methodological, and
polemical, and psychological, social, and vocational.11 Other scholars have
tended to see ethical progress or development as the unifying theme, sometimes
using Epictetus’ own three-topic programme for this process as an interpretative
key for making sense of the writings.12

If we look at this question in more detail, we can identify three subjects or

clusters of subjects that are especially prominent in the Discourses. All three
subjects are also important in other writings on Stoic ethics, though Epictetus’
treatment sometimes has distinctive emphases. One is our capacity for rational
agency, and a second our capacity for ethical (especially social) development; a
third is the idea that these capacities form key distinctive features of human
nature within the framework of a divinely shaped universe.13 It is worthwhile to
consider each of these topics, and to see how far Epictetus’ treatment of them
fits with typical patterns of Stoic thinking. Subsequently, I shall discuss how
these themes fit together and what overall purpose they serve within the context
of Epictetus’ teaching.

A cluster of ideas prominent in the Discourses can be linked with the notion of
rational agency. One is the idea that we can and should distinguish clearly
between what is ‘up to us’ (or ‘in our power’, eph’ hēmin) and what is not ‘up to
us’, and focus our concern and desire on the first group, rather than the second.
The first group consists of psychological states and responses such as beliefs and
motives, and the second of our bodily condition, property, or social standing.
This theme is sometimes linked with the idea that we can and should ‘examine
our impressions’ (perceptions and thoughts) before ‘assenting’ to them. In
particular, we should be careful not to attach the notion of ‘good’ or ‘bad’
inappropriately, that is, to ‘externals’ such as our bodily condition or property.
Doing so produces (negative and misguided) emotions such as disappointment or
resentment. These two themes are often expressed in terms of our use of
prohairesis. This is a standard Greek term meaning ‘decision’ or ‘choice’, and
one that plays a major role in Aristotle’s ethical writings. Epictetus uses it to
mean the kind of rational agency that is expressed in focusing on what is ‘up to
us’ and in ‘examining impressions’.14

Although some features of Epictetus’ terminology on this topic are rather non-
standard within Stoicism,15 in general his treatment fits well with certain well-
known and characteristic features of Stoic thinking about human psychology. In
the Stoic theory of action, both human and non-human animals are motivated by
‘impressions’ or ‘appearances’ (phantasiai), a broad category including
perceptions and thoughts. But the reactions of humans, or ‘rational animals’,
differ in two ways from those of non-human animals. A rational impression has
what we call ‘propositional content’, that is, meaning that can be expressed in
the form of a statement, such as ‘this act or object is right or good’. Also, human
beings need to ‘assent’ (or ‘say yes’) to the content of the impression before this
stimulates motivation to action (hormē) or other such reactions, including
emotions or feelings. Epictetus’ themes seem to assume this pattern of thinking
about human motivation. As rational animals, we are able to ‘examine’ the
content of our ‘impressions’ before we ‘assent’ (or ‘say yes’) to them. We can
determine in this way whether the things concerned are or are not ‘up to us’, and
do or do not fall within the scope for choice or decision (prohairesis). This, in
turn, can shape our motives and emotional reactions. Hence, to take a simple
example, if we ‘assent’ to the idea that an object is good that falls outside our
control (a shiny new car, or a good-looking and congenial girlfriend or
boyfriend), this can generate an emotion of disappointment when we do not
actually obtain it.16

More broadly, Epictetus uses this theme to suggest an idea that is fundamental
for much of the content of the Discourses, and Stoic ethics more generally. This
is the idea that the capacity to achieve happiness is ‘up to us’ (or ‘in our power’)
and does not depend on external factors, as is often supposed in conventional
thinking. To some degree, this idea is common ground to much Hellenistic and
Roman thought. But the Stoics make this claim in a particularly strong form,
which is linked with their view that happiness is constituted by virtue; more
precisely, that virtue is both necessary and sufficient for happiness.17 Epictetus
does not present this idea in expository form, which would, in any case, not fit
the informal and practical aim of the discussions recorded in the Discourses.18
But this idea is presupposed throughout the work and underlies a theme that
Epictetus does accentuate strongly, namely, ethical development or progress.

A distinctive and fundamental feature of Stoic ethics is the idea that all human
beings are constitutively capable of carrying out two kinds of ethical
development, one relating to the progressive understanding of categories of
value, the other to forms of relationship. In the first kind, human beings move
from instinctive attraction to natural goods, such as health, to ‘selecting’
between such things in a rational way. Finally, if they progress properly, they
will come to understand that what matters, ultimately, is not obtaining these
natural goods but doing so in the right way, that is, in a way that expresses the
qualities fundamental to a good human life, or the virtues. At this point, anything
other than virtue comes to seem ‘a matter of indifference’, though it is also
natural for us to find some things, such as health or property, ‘preferable’, rather
than ‘dispreferable’.19

The second kind of ethical development also consists in a movement from an

instinctive or primitive state to a more rational (and virtuous) one. Human
beings, like non-human animals, are naturally disposed to want to benefit at least
some others of our kind; parental love for offspring is a clear example of this.
But in humans, unlike other animals, this instinct can be developed as part of our
developing rationality, and this can lead to various kinds of other-benefiting
motivation. One is engaging in our own neighbourhood, community, or state in a
way that enables us to benefit others. Another—a more unusual and striking
feature of Stoic thought—is coming to regard all human beings (as fellow
rational animals) as members of the brotherhood of humanity or fellow citizens
of a world community.20 Although we have no explicit analysis in Stoic theory
of the relationship between these two strands of ethical development (personal
and social), it seems clear that, ideally, the two kinds of development are
combined and become mutually supporting.21 Taken together, they enable us to
move towards the ideal of virtue that also constitutes human happiness. Even if
few or perhaps none of us carry out this programme in full, undertaking this
project of development, and doing so on a lifelong basis, forms the core of
ethical life for any committed Stoic.

Although Epictetus does not make much use of the technical Stoic term for this
process, that is, oikeiōsis (‘appropriation’, or ‘familiarization’), it is clear that it
is central for his Discourses, even though his treatment of it is rather partial. He
gives rather little attention, for instance, to the idea that we progress towards
understanding the value of virtue by ‘selection’ between ‘preferable’ and
‘dispreferable indifferents’.22 He focuses more on the desired outcome of the
first type of development, that is, our recognition of the absolute value of virtue,
and, especially the kind of character-state associated with this recognition, that
of whole-hearted ethical engagement or complete integrity. But he gives more
prominence again to the second, social strand of development, especially the
later, rational stages. He accentuates both possible aspects of social
development, that is, well-reasoned involvement with our social roles and
connections, and a benevolent concern for humanity as a whole. He also
explores, in various ways, the interplay between the two strands, and the way in
which our developing understanding of the absolute value of virtue, by contrast
with other so-called goods, can and should inform our attitudes to, and feelings
about, other people. Some of the most striking and memorable features of the
Discourses derive from Epictetus’ exploration of this interplay, as illustrated
later.23

A third distinctive cluster of themes in the Discourses falls into the interface
between ethics and logic or physics, which are, as noted earlier, important
spheres in Stoic thought. In the first area, one important theme is the idea that
the state of mind of the normative wise person is marked by a consistency and
structured understanding that is informed by mastery of logic and ethical
principles. This idea is sometimes characterized as ‘dialectical virtue’, as Stoic
logic was also described as ‘dialectic’.24 Epictetus does not refer often to the
wise person as a norm for aspiration. More often, he cites as his ideals Socrates
or Diogenes the Cynic.25 But he does present the state of mind linked with
‘dialectical virtue’ as a goal to aim at, for instance, as the outcome of the third
phase of his three-phase programme of ethical progress.26 He also stresses—very
often—a related theme, that logic should not be pursued solely for its own sake,
as an intellectual pastime, but as something that should promote our ethical
development.27

The interface between ethics and physics provides a number of important Stoic
ideas, centring on the idea that the natural universe provides an informing
framework for ethical life. The universe, or its shaping, or ‘divine’, element,
does so either as a paradigm of order, structure, and rationality or as a source of
providential care for the component parts of the universe, especially human
beings, who share its ‘divine’ rationality. A related idea is that for human beings
to exercise their capacity for rational agency is to act in line with the rational
(divine) direction of the universe as well as with one’s own inner, rational
‘guardian spirit’ (daimōn).28 This complex of ideas has a prominent place in the
Discourses, as also in some other writings on Stoic practical ethics, notably,
Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations.29 Epictetus stresses especially the last idea,
accentuating the idea of God as director of the universe and as the source of the
divine rationality in us. Another theme stressed is that the capacity to exercise
rational agency in developing towards virtue (expressed as our prohairesis) is a
fundamental, or inalienable, human capacity, which is built into the natural,
divinely shaped universe. He stresses less than Marcus the idea that one aspect
of virtue consists in conceiving ourselves as an integral part of the whole
universe, and accepting the course of events within this whole as inherently
good, even if they seem disadvantageous to us personally. Similarly, he lays less
emphasis than Marcus on the idea of universal causal determinism, or Fate, as an
expression of divine, providential agency.30

Philosophical Innovation or Pedagogic Style?

Can we find an overall explanation for the Stoic themes emphasized or de-
emphasized by Epictetus? If so, does this derive from philosophical innovation
and originality or from the nature of the kind of practical ethical encouragement
offered in the Discourses?

It has sometimes been suggested that Epictetus was introducing new ideas into
Stoicism. For instance, close attention has been given to his focus on rational
agency (the first theme noted here) and the idea that this is an inalienable human
capacity (the third theme). His lack of emphasis on determinism has sometimes
been coupled with this. It has been suggested that Epictetus is aiming to define
in a new way the scope for autonomy and responsibility that is normally seen by
Stoics as a fundamental human capacity, and one that is compatible with the idea
of universal causal determinism. Epictetus has been thought to be aiming to
define an area, that of our capacity to control our thoughts and motives,
especially by ‘examining our impressions’ before giving ‘assent’, which is
immune from the broader pattern of causal determinism.31 Epictetus sometimes
characterizes this capacity in terms of ‘freedom’ (e.g. 3.22.42, Handbook 1.2–3),
although he does not himself present this move as constituting a theory about
‘free will’. However, it has been claimed, his move was a crucial influence on
the development of the idea of ‘freedom of the will’, which was expressed in
those terms in Christian writers influenced by Epictetus.32 Most of the ideas
Epictetus puts forward about God are recognizable strands of Stoic thinking in
this area. But it has been thought that Epictetus presents these in a new or
distinctive way, with a more personal view of God and of divine care for
humanity than is generally found in Stoic thinking.33

Given the loss of the main Hellenistic Stoic treatises, and our dependence on
later summaries of doctrines, it is difficult for us to track with any certainty
moves towards innovation in later Stoic writers. Also, in works such as the
Discourses, it is not easy to distinguish between original ideas and striking
formulations of key features of existing Stoic theory, designed to be effective in
the context of practical ethics. As regards Epictetus’ treatment of rational
agency, it has been argued that, although his formulations are unusual, he is
simply defining in his own way human capacities already well recognized by
Chrysippus. The earlier Stoic theorist had already maintained that the fact that
human beings need to ‘assent’ to ‘impressions’ makes them causal agents of a
different kind from other animals (or objects), and this capacity is compatible
with universal causal determinism. So Epictetus’ call to ‘examine impressions’
before giving ‘assent’ to them, along with his stress on the ‘inalienable’
character of human rational agency (or prohairesis), can be seen simply as a
striking restatement of this theory. The demand for an ‘indeterminist’ conception
of human agency (incompatible with determinism) belongs, it has been claimed,
to a later phase of ancient debate on this subject.34 As regards Epictetus’
presentation of God, it has been questioned whether this is actually more
personal in approach or tone than can be found in earlier Stoic thought.35

An alternative, and perhaps more promising, approach may be to explain

Epictetus’ distinctive emphases, and gaps (or unstressed elements) by reference
to his practical or pedagogic aims in the discussions recorded by Arrian. It is
worth underlining again that these discussions are mainly directed at young
students or at visitors to the school, and seem to be especially designed to bring
home to students the idea that Stoicism is not simply an academic exercise but is
intended to shape or reshape one’s whole way of life. This is not a context in
which one would, on the face of it, expect Epictetus to put forward innovative
ideas within Stoic thinking, even if he did so in his formal classes (of which we
have no records).

It may be useful here to keep in mind some of the typologies used to characterize
methods of practical ethics in this period. One typology subdivides practically
oriented ethical discourse into protreptic, therapy, and advice. The aim of
protreptic is to induce the listener to engage with philosophy at all, or to do so
more deeply; that of therapy is to use philosophy to help him get rid of false
beliefs, affecting his motives, emotions, and actions; advice aims to replace the
rejected beliefs with better-grounded guides to action.36 Epictetus, while not
using this typology in a systematic way, alludes to the idea of philosophy as
protreptic and therapy, and also uses his discourses extensively to offer advice
about how to live a life based on Stoic principles. He also uses the category of
elenchus, or ‘elenctic’ discourse, adopting the language and, to some extent, the
methodology of Socrates, as depicted in the early Platonic dialogues. Epictetus,
like Socrates, sets out to show his interlocutor that he is living his life on the
basis of beliefs that are inconsistent with each other, or at least with beliefs that
he induces his interlocutor to accept, and so reforms his belief-set. Epictetus also
uses Zeno, founder of Stoicism, and Diogenes, founder of Cynicism, as symbols
for two contrasting, but compatible, styles of discourse, one more ‘doctrinal’ or
instructive, and the other ‘reproving’, or critical of the listener’s convictions or
pattern of life (or both).37 Epictetus’ use of terminology of this kind, along with
references to his three-topic programme for ethics, brings out the point that his
central concern in the discourses is a practical one, intended by criticism and
constructive methods to take forward his listeners’ engagement and progress in
the project of leading a Stoic life.38

If we return to the three distinctive themes or clusters of themes in the

Discourses with this background in mind, we can interpret them, taken together,
as forming material for a progressive programme of ethical engagement
conducted on Stoic lines. The emphasis on the human capacity for rational
agency (prohairesis), especially agency as regards achieving happiness (or
starting to do so), can be seen as a protreptic device, prodding his listeners to
engage more fully with the ethical content of Stoicism. It may be significant that
this theme is signalled as being a primary or preliminary one by placing it first in
Epictetus’ three-topic programme. Underlining our capacity for rational agency,
and urging us to focus on what is ‘up to us’ (as well as to ‘examine our
impressions’ before ‘assenting to them’), is perhaps designed to serve as the first
step towards translating philosophical ideas into a programme for living.39

The next step may be provided by Epictetus’ many allusions to Stoic ideas about
ethical development as ‘appropriation’; significantly perhaps, the social strand of
this is presented as the second stage in Epictetus’ three-topic programme (3.2.4).
As noted earlier, Epictetus’ focus, in the personal side of development, falls on
the desired outcome of the process, that is, coming to see other so-called ‘good
things’ as ‘matters of indifference’ compared with virtue, rather than on the
process of distinguishing between ‘preferable’ and ‘dispreferable indifferents’,
which is normally presented as instrumental towards that recognition. This
emphasis can be seen as ‘protreptic’ in a different sense, that of pointing the
listener towards the end-point of ethical development even if they are themselves
a long way from this outcome. Epictetus’ advice on how to conduct the social
strand in development, similarly, stresses the desired end-point of this process:
committed ethical engagement with a specific social role or taking up the
mission of helping humanity more generally. He also accentuates the interplay
between the two strands, and the significance for our relationships with others of
recognizing the absolute priority of virtue (or ‘the good’) as distinct from
securing indifferents (or ‘externals’, as he tends to call them). Although
Epictetus directs his listeners’ attention and aspiration towards high ideals or
advanced ethical attitudes or states of character, he does so in a very vivid way,
with a combination of plain language and dramatic characterization. This
reminds us again that, even if he is describing levels of ethical understanding
that go well beyond that reached by his interlocutors, he wants them to grasp and
feel the force of these ideals.40

The third cluster of themes highlighted earlier, falling in the interface of ethics
with logic or physics, can be seen as defining aspects of the more intellectual or
reflective aspects of virtue (or ‘wisdom’, in Stoic terms). One aspect of this is
the ideal of consistent ethical understanding, or ‘dialectical virtue’, which
figures, perhaps significantly, as the third stage of Epictetus’ three-topic
programme (3.2.1, 5). Another aspect is conceiving rational agency, or
prohairesis, as an inalienable human capacity in a divinely shaped universe.
Although these motifs concern intellectual states of mind or understanding, they
are also closely linked with the other two, more practically oriented, distinctive
themes (rational agency and ethical development).41 They can be seen as
constituting another dimension of virtue, whose force and value as an ideal for
living Epictetus aims to convey. Hence, taken as a whole, Epictetus’ most
characteristic motifs can be understood as reflecting what seems to be the main
aim of his discussions with his students and others. This is bringing home to
them, as forcefully as possible, what it means to engage, sincerely and deeply,
with the ethical project of living out one’s commitment to Stoic philosophy.42

Illustrative Readings: Discourses 1.1–2

To illustrate some of these themes and the way Epictetus brings out their force,
let us consider the first two discourses in Book 1. In both cases, Epictetus begins
by identifying a theme in general terms, before exploring its implications for
trying to live a good life. He combines general, expository statements with
vividly realized imagined dialogue, especially in bringing out the implications
for practical ethics. In terms that Epictetus himself sometimes uses, he combines
a doctrinal mode with protreptic and elenctic (refuting) modes, the latter two
sometimes fused with each other.
In 1.1 Epictetus begins by presenting the reasoning faculty as the one which,
unlike other arts and faculties, comprehends both itself and the other faculties.
He then isolates one salient aspect of this faculty, ‘which enables us to make
right use of our impressions’ (7), which encapsulates this combination of self-
management and management of other things. The latter capacity is described,
by contrast with our bodily condition, possessions, and personal relationships, as
the only thing that is wholly ‘up to us’ or ‘within our power’ (eph’ hēmin). This
idea is presented by saying that this capacity (which is ‘a portion’ of divinity) is
the only one that Zeus, king of the gods, could place wholly within our power
(10–13, expressed as a speech by Zeus). Epictetus goes on to maintain that,
typically, we misuse this capacity; we concern ourselves with the things that are
not ‘up to us’ (possessions and so on). Instead, we should ‘make the best of what
lies within our power and deal with everything else as it comes’ (17). This
recommendation is then illustrated by a series of imagined dialogues, some of
them involving historical figures, including famous Stoicism-inspired examples
of resistance to tyrannical attitudes or actions by Roman emperors.43 Each of
these is designed to show what is involved in ‘making the best of what lies
within our power’, and at the same time ‘dealing with everything else’ as regards
our body or continued life—‘as it comes’. These examples show, as he points
out, ‘what it means to train oneself in the matters in which one ought to train
oneself’ (31).

The discourse focuses on distinctive themes that fall in the first and third groups
discussed earlier. It is sometimes taken, along with other discourses, such as
1.17, as marking a new or innovative contribution to Stoic thinking on
psychological agency, or ‘free will’. However, the capacity identified (rational
agency) can also be seen as part of long-standing Stoic ideas about the
distinctive character of human rationality and the capacity for ethical progress.44
The second half of the discussion concentrates wholly on two features that are
presented as aspects of virtuous action (or at least that show progress towards
virtue). The figures depicted ‘make the best of what lies within our power’,
acting courageously, for instance, while also ‘dealing with everything else’,
including the imprisonment, exile, or death that follows from this courageous act
‘as it comes’ (17; cf. 18–32). Epictetus’ conclusion, that this is ‘what it means to
train oneself in the matters in which one ought to train oneself’ (31), indicates
that his concern here is as much with the proper use of rational agency as a basis
for ethical action and development as with the idea that this capacity is a
distinctive and fundamental property of human beings.
Discourse 1.2 has a similar overall structure and style; but the focus on ethical
attitudes and actions, which emerges in the latter half of 1.1, is dominant
throughout 1.2. The discourse presupposes a theory that we find more fully
presented in Cicero, On Duties 1. 107–21. This is the idea that, in our ethical
life, we should see ourselves as bearing four ‘roles’, or ‘characters’ (prosōpa in
Greek and personae in Latin): our overall human role as rational ethical agents,
our individual character, and the specific social roles that are the results of our
background or choice. Achieving virtue, or making progress towards it, is in part
at least a matter of trying to reconcile these roles.45

Epictetus begins by asserting that, ‘For a rational creature, only what is contrary
to nature is unendurable, but everything that is reasonable can be endured.’ But
people have different views about what is or is not reasonable to endure; and to
advance our education in this respect, we need to get better in judging both ‘the
value of external things’ and ‘how they stand in relation to our specific
character’ (7). Epictetus’ initial presentation may suggest that he takes a quite
neutral view about how different people carry out this process of evaluation; but
this is far from the case. Epictetus goes on to present a series of exemplary
figures, all of whom believe that expressing their particular character and the
social role they have undertaken requires them to place a high value on
courageous action and a very low value on ‘external things’, including their
continued life.46 He also characterizes such people as setting a high value on
themselves and their rational agency (prohairesis), by contrast with ‘selling it
cheap’ (33), and explicitly associates himself with their stance (11, 29, 33). He
acknowledges that not everyone may feel ready to take this stand, or ready to do
so now, at any rate. But he urges his listeners to ‘undergo hard winter training’
to prepare themselves for doing so (32), and, like Epictetus himself, not to ‘cease
to make any effort … merely because I despair of achieving perfection’ (37).47

This discourse, clearly, relates to the second cluster of ideas discussed earlier, on
ethical development, especially the practice of social roles linked with the
second topic in Epictetus’ three-topic programme (3.2.2, 4). More precisely, it is
linked with the interplay between the two strands in ethical development
between engagement with one’s specific social role and recognizing that, in
comparison with acting virtuously, other so-called goods (even continued life)
are ‘matters of indifference’. This rather complex area is one that Epictetus
explores repeatedly in the Discourses, highlighting the potential conflict, for
instance, between acting out one’s family role (as conventionally understood, at
any rate) and choosing to act virtuously. He also stresses, for similar reasons,
that we should remain aware of the mortality of those we love (as well as our
own mortality), and yet view this fact with an appropriate moral perspective.48
The latter comments have often struck readers as cold and unfeeling, and as
bringing out an inhuman side in Stoic ethics. But they are better seen as drawing
out the implications for interpersonal relationships of an ethical standpoint that,
taken as a whole, has a high degree of credibility as well as coherence.

Reception of Epictetus
The Handbook and Discourses of Epictetus have been probably the most widely
read and influential of all Stoic texts from their first appearance until now. The
combination of ethical idealism with directness and accessibility has given these
works a remarkable impact, extending far beyond the boundaries of those
committed to Stoicism. Although the nature of the responses has varied, it has
focused on the features singled out here as distinctive, especially the stress on
our own moral agency and mastery of our happiness, and the constructive and
practical guidance on ethical self-improvement.

In the second century Epictetus was a major influence on the thought and style
of Marcus Aurelius’ philosophical diary (Meditations), and was seen as a
significant thinker by (non-Stoic) intellectuals such as Galen, Gellius, and
Lucian. His uncompromising moral stance made him attractive to early
Christians such as Clement, Origen, and John Chrysostom. His thinking on
rational agency and decision (prohairesis) has been seen as helping to shape the
emergence of Christian thinking on the will and freedom of the will, especially
in Origen and Augustine (third and fourth centuries).49 In the sixth century
Simplicius wrote a substantial commentary on the Handbook, treating it as an
introductory text to the Neoplatonist philosophy and way of life. The Handbook
was also adopted, with some modifications (including replacing the name of
‘Socrates’ with ‘St Paul’), by Christian monks, and used for centuries by the
Eastern (Greek Orthodox) Church. Through Syriac Christian scholars, Epictetus’
thought spread to the Islamic East, influencing, for instance, the teaching on
‘dispelling sorrow’ by al-Kindī, a major figure in the study of Greek texts in
ninth-century Baghdad.50

From the late fifteenth century onwards, translations and editions of Epictetus’
works became widely available in most European countries. This promoted the
emergence of Neostoic philosophy, which selectively adopted key Stoic themes,
by Justus Lipsius (the Netherlands, 1547–1606) and Guillaume de Vair (France,
1556–1621). Epictetus also exercised a significant influence on two major
thinkers in the early seventeenth century, Pascal (1623–62) and Descartes
(1596–1650). Both responded to Epictetus’ presentation of rational agency as
fundamental to human nature and his call to emotional endurance. However,
Pascal, like other Christian writers in this period, had reservations about
Epictetus’ Stoic ‘arrogance’, that is, the belief that our perfection depends on our
own efforts rather than God’s grace. Descartes, in his methodology of systematic
sceptical enquiry, responds to Epictetus’ stress on ‘examining impressions’
before ‘assenting’ to them.

In Britain, Epictetus’ influence is more evident in the eighteenth century. The

first English translation of the Discourses was published by Elizabeth Carter in
1758 and remained the standard English version until the twentieth century.
English thinkers influenced by Epictetus in this period include the third earl of
Shaftesbury (Anthony Ashley Cooper, 1671–1713) and Bishop Joseph Butler
(1692–1750). These thinkers also responded to Epictetus’ emphasis on the
human capacity for independent rational and moral agency (‘conscience’ or
‘moral reason’, in Butler’s terms).51

Epictetus has had a long-standing resonance in the United States; his

uncompromising moral rigour chimed in well with Protestant Christian beliefs
and the ethical individualism that has been a persistent vein in American culture.
His admirers ranged from John Harvard and Thomas Jefferson in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David
Thoreau in the nineteenth. More recently, Vice-Admiral James Stockdale wrote
movingly of how his study of Epictetus at Stanford University enabled him to
survive the psychological pressure of prolonged torture as a prisoner of war in
Vietnam between 1965 and 1973. Stockdale’s story formed the basis for a light-
hearted treatment of the moral power of Stoicism in Tom Wolfe’s novel A Man
in Full (1998).52

In recent times, Epictetus’ writings, along with other works of Stoic practical
ethics, have been important in providing material for the upsurge of writings
offering a ‘guide to life’ or pathway to happiness.53 Stoicism, especially as
presented by Epictetus, was also an important influence on the emergence of the
cognitive approach to psychotherapy, which focuses on deliberate attempts by
the patient to address emotional disturbance and depression, rather than aiming
to uncover their unconscious roots, as Freudian analysis does. Epictetus helped
to shape the evolution of this approach by Albert Ellis and Aaron Beck, and is
potentially yet more relevant to some current versions of this approach, which
lay increasing stress on inviting the patient to reflect on her values and life-
choices as well as modifying her beliefs and behaviour.54 In these and other
ways, Epictetus’ forceful appeal to understand the crucial role of recognizing
what is ‘up to us’ still resonates with modern readers.
 NOTE ON THE TEXT AND TRANSLATION

THIS is not my first approach to this material, since I have previously revised
Elizabeth Carter’s eighteenth-century translation of Epictetus’ Discourses for an
edition published by Everyman (London, 1995). I should like to stress, however,
that this is not a revision of that revision, but a completely new translation. In
the main, the translation follows the Greek text in the Loeb Classical Library
edition prepared by W. A. Oldfather (London, 1926; largely based on the text in
the Teubner edition by Heinrich Schenkl, 2nd edition, Leipzig, 1916), although I
have also consulted the text prepared by Joseph Souilhé for the Budé series
(Paris, 1948–65). I have benefited by being able to refer to the excellent
translations by Oldfather and Souilhé; I am also familiar with the older English
translations by George Long (London, 1877) and P. E. Matheson (Oxford, 1916)
and the Italian translation by Renato Laurenti (Bari, 1960). I am indebted to
Christopher Gill for many valuable suggestions.

As can be seen in the Prefatory Letter, these discourses were presented by their
editor, Arrian, as being direct transcriptions of conversations in Epictetus’
school. Irrespective of how much of their content really was recorded on the
occasion, and how much was recreated by Arrian from his notes and memory,
they provide a vivid impression, in relatively colloquial Greek, of how Epictetus
conducted his teaching and strove to convey his message. In making these
translations, I have tried to preserve that feeling of spontaneity, and I hope that
readers will come to feel that they are overhearing living conversation about
matters of urgent practical concern, even if there is inevitably a certain amount
of philosophical jargon and the discussion can get quite technical at times.

Epictetus is naturally the main speaker, and in many of the discourses he speaks
for most of the time, with an occasional question or interjection from others who
are present; but there are also passages in which there are series of short
interchanges. To try to make clear who is speaking at any one time, I have
generally not enclosed Epictetus’ contributions in inverted commas, reserving
those for the questions and remarks of his interlocutors. Verse quotations, mostly
from Homer and Greek tragedy, have been put in italics.
R.H.
 SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

Greek Editions of the Discourses, Fragments, and Handbook

Oldfather, W. A. (ed.), Epictetus: The Discourses as Reported by Arrian, the
Manual, and Fragments, with trans. and notes, 2 vols. (London, 1926) (Loeb
Classical Library).
Schenkl, H. (ed.), Epicteti Dissertationes ab Arriano digestae, 2nd edn.
(Leipzig, 1916) (Teubner).
Souilhé, J. (ed.), Epictète: Entretiens, with French trans. and notes, 4 vols.
(Paris, 1948–65) (Budé).
English Translations of the Discourses, Fragments, and Handbook
Boter, G., The Encheiridion of Epictetus and its Three Christian Adaptations
(Leiden, 1999).
Carter, E., Epictetus: Moral Discourses (London, 1758; often reprinted).
Dobbin, R., Epictetus: Discourses and Selected Writings, with introd. and notes
(London, 2008) (Penguin Classics; a selection from the Discourses and other
writings).
Hard, R., The Discourses of Epictetus, with introd. and notes by C. Gill (London,
1995) (Everyman).
Matheson, P. E., Epictetus: The Discourses and Manual, with introd. and notes,
2 vols. (Oxford, 1916).
White, N., The Handbook of Epictetus, trans. with introd. and annotations
(Indianapolis, 1983) (Hackett).
Epictetus’ Philosophical Context
Algra, K., Barnes, J., Mansfeld, J., and Schofield, M. (eds.), The Cambridge
History of Hellenistic Philosophy (Cambridge, 1999).
Annas, J., The Morality of Happiness (Oxford, 1993).
Barnes, J., Logic and the Imperial Stoa (Leiden, 1997).
Bobzien, S., Determinism and Freedom in Stoic Philosophy (Oxford, 1998).
Braund, S. M., and Gill, C. (eds.), The Passions in Roman Thought and
 Literature (Cambridge, 1997).
Brennan, T., The Stoic Life: Emotions, Duties, and Fate (Oxford, 2005).
Colish, M., The Stoic Tradition from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, 2 vols.
(Leiden, 1990).
De Lacy, P., ‘Stoic Views of Poetry’, American Journal of Philology, 69 (1948),
241–71.
Desmond, W., Cynics (Stocksfield, 2008).
Dudley, D. R., A History of Cynicism from Diogenes to the Sixth Century
(London, 1937).
Frede, M., A Free Will: Origins of the Notion in Ancient Thought (Berkeley,
2011).
Gill, C., ‘Personhood and Personality: The Four-Personae Theory in Cicero, De
Officiis 1’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, 6 (1988), 169–99.
—— The Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman Thought (Oxford, 2006).
—— ‘Stoicism and Epicureanism’, in P. Goldie (ed.), Oxford Handbook of
Philosophy of Emotion (Oxford, 2009).
—— Naturalistic Psychology in Galen and Stoicism (Oxford, 2010).
—— ‘Cynicism and Stoicism’, in R. Crisp (ed.), Oxford Handbook of the
History of Ethics (Oxford, 2013).
Graver, M. R., Stoicism and Emotion (Chicago, 2007).
Hadot, P., Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to
Foucault, trans. M. Chase (Oxford, 1995).
Inwood, B., Ethics and Human Action in Early Stoicism (Oxford, 1985).
—— (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Stoics (Oxford, 2003).
Long, A. A., Hellenistic Philosophy (London, 1974; 2nd edn., Berkeley, 1986).
—— Stoic Studies (Cambridge, 1996).
—— From Epicurus to Epictetus: Studies in Hellenistic and Roman Philosophy
(Oxford, 2006).
—— and Sedley, D. N., The Hellenistic Philosophers, 2 vols. (Cambridge,
1987).
Moles, J. L., ‘Cynicism’, in C. J. Rowe and M. Schofield (eds.), The Cambridge
History of Greek and Roman Political Thought (Cambridge, 2000).
Morford, M., The Roman Philosophers from the Time of Cato the Censor to the
Death of Marcus Aurelius (London, 2002).
Nussbaum, M. C., The Therapy of Desire: Theory and Practice in Hellenistic
Ethics (Princeton, 1994).
Reydams-Schils, G., The Roman Stoics: Self, Responsibility, and Affection
 (Chicago, 2005).
Rist, J. M., Stoic Philosophy (Cambridge, 1969).
Roskam, G., On the Path to Virtue: The Stoic Doctrine of Moral Progress and
its Reception in (Middle-) Platonism (Leuven, 2005).
Salles, R. (ed.), God and Cosmos in Stoicism (Oxford, 2009).
Sandbach, F. H., The Stoics (London, 1975).
Schofield, M., The Stoic Idea of the City (Cambridge, 1991; 2nd edn., Chicago,
1999).
Sellars, J., Stoicism (Chesham, 2006).
Sharples, R. W., Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics: An Introduction to Hellenistic
Philosophy (London, 1996).
—— and Sorabji, R. (eds.), Greek and Roman Philosophy (100 BC to 200 AD),
Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies, suppl. 94, 2 vols. (London, 2007).
Sorabji, R., Emotion and Peace of Mind: From Stoic Agitation to Christian
Temptation (Oxford, 2000).
—— Self: Ancient and Modern Insights about Individuality, Life, and Death
(Oxford, 2006).
Stadter, P. A., Arrian of Nicomedia (Chapel Hill, NC, 1980).
Trapp, M., Philosophy in the Roman Empire: Ethics, Politics and Society
(Aldershot, 2007).
Vogt, K. M., Law, Reason, and the Cosmic City: Political Philosophy in the
Early Stoa (Oxford, 2008).
Epictetus’ Philosophical Teachings
Three very useful recent books on this topic:
Dobbin, R., Epictetus: Discourses Book 1, trans. with introd. and comm.,
Clarendon Later Ancient Philosophers (Oxford, 1998).
Long, A. A., Epictetus: A Stoic and Socratic Guide to Life (Oxford, 2002).
Scaltsas, T., and Mason, A. S. (eds.), The Philosophy of Epictetus (Oxford,
2007).
See also:
Bonhöffer, D., Epictet und die Stoa: Untersuchungen zur Stoischen Philosophie
(Stuttgart, 1890; repr. 1968).
—— Die Ethik der Stoikers Epictet (Stuttgart, 1894; repr. 1968), trans. as The
Ethics of the Stoic Epictetus by W. O. Stephens (New York, 1996).
—— Epiktet und das Neue Testament (Giessen, 1911; repr. 1964).
Brennan, T., and Brittain, C., Simplicius: On Epictetus’ Handbook, trans. with
 introd. and notes, 2 vols. (London, 2002).
Brunt, P. A., ‘From Epictetus to Arrian’, Athenaeum, 55 (1977), 19–48.
De Lacy, P., ‘The Logical Structure of the Ethics of Epictetus’, Classical
Philology, 38 (1943), 112–25.
Gill, C., ‘Stoic Writers of the Imperial Era’, in C. J. Rowe and M. Schofield
(eds.), The Cambridge History of Greek and Roman Political Thought
(Cambridge, 2000).
Herschbell, J., ‘The Stoicism of Epictetus: Twentieth Century Perspectives’,
Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, II.36.3, ed. W. Haase and H.
Temporini (Berlin, 1989).
Hijmans, B. L., Askēsis: Notes on Epictetus’ Educational System (Assen, 1959).
Johnson, B. E., ‘Ethical Roles in Epictetus’, Epoché, 16/2 (2012), 287–316.
—— ‘Socrates, Heracles and the Deflation of Roles in Epictetus’, Ancient
Philosophy, 32 (2012), 125–45.
Kamtekar, R. ‘Aidōs in Epictetus’, Classical Philology, 93 (1998), 136–60.
Long, A. A., ‘Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius’, in J. Luce (ed.), Ancient Writers:
Greece and Rome, 2 vols. (New York, 1982), ii.
—— ‘Epictetus as Socratic Mentor’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological
Society, 46 (2000), 79–98.
—— ‘The Socratic Imprint on Epictetus’ Philosophy’, in S. K. Strange and J.
Zupko (eds.), Stoicism: Traditions and Transformations (Cambridge, 2004).
Sellars, J., The Art of Living: The Stoics on the Nature and Function of
Philosophy (Aldershot, 2003).
Spanneut, M., ‘Epiktet’, in T. Klauser (ed.), Reallexikon für Antike und
Christentum, 24 vols. to date (Stuttgart, 1950– ), vol. v.
Stanton, G. R., ‘The Cosmopolitan Ideas of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius’,
Phronesis, 13 (1968), 183–95.
Stephens, W. O., ‘Epictetus on how the Stoic Sage Loves’, Oxford Studies in
Ancient Philosophy, 14 (1996), 193–210.
Xenakis, J., Epictetus: Philosopher–Therapist (The Hague, 1969).
Putting Epictetus into Practice
Evans, J., Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations (London, 2012),
ch. 2.
Robertson, D., The Philosophy of Cognitive–Behavioural Therapy (CBT): Stoic
Philosophy as Rational and Cognitive Psychotherapy (London, 2010).
Seddon, K., Epictetus’ Handbook and the Tablet of Cebes: Guides to Stoic
 Living (London, 2005).
Sherman, N., Stoic Warriors: The Ancient Philosophy behind the Military Mind
(Oxford, 2005).
Stockdale, J., Thoughts of a Philosophical Fighter Pilot (Stanford, 1995).
Further Reading in Oxford World’s Classics
Cicero, On Obligations, trans. P. G. Walsh.
Diogenes the Cynic, Sayings and Anecdotes, with Other Popular Moralists,
trans. R. Hard.
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, trans. R. Hard, with introd. and notes by C. Gill.
Seneca, Dialogues and Essays, trans. J. Davie, with introd. and notes by T.
Reinhardt.
–—— Selected Letters, trans. E. Fantham.
 A CHRONOLOGY OF EPICTETUS

(All dates are AD)

c.50 Epictetus born in Hierapolis (in Phrygia).
54 Nero becomes emperor.
57 Nero orders senators and knights to participate in his
Games.
59 Nero murders his mother, Agrippina.
c.60 Musonius Rufus goes into exile in Asia Minor.
Date unknown Epictetus comes to Rome; becomes a slave of
Epaphroditus, a powerful freedman of Nero.
62 Musonius Rufus returns to Rome; Seneca loses his
position as Nero’s adviser. Nero banishes his former
wife, Octavia (then murdered), and marries Poppaea
Sabina.
65 Musonius Rufus exiled to Gyara; conspiracy of Piso
against Nero; Plautius Lateranus executed; Seneca
forced to commit suicide.
66 Thrasea Paetus forced to commit suicide.
68 Nero deposed and commits suicide; Galba becomes
emperor; Musonius Rufus returns to Rome.
Between 68 and 69 Epictetus studies with Musonius Rufus; he is freed by
Epaphroditus and sets himself up as a philosophy
teacher at Rome.
69 Year of the four emperors (Galba, Otho, Vitellius,
Vespasian).
70–9 Musonius Rufus exiled again at some point.
75 Helvidius Priscus exiled and executed.
79 Vespasian dies; Titus becomes emperor.
After 79 Musonius Rufus returns to Rome.
81 Titus dies; Domitian becomes emperor.
c.86 Arrian born.
89 Domitian banishes philosophers from Rome; Epictetus
goes to Nicopolis in Greece and sets up philosophical
school.
96 Domitian assassinated; Nerva becomes emperor.
98 Trajan becomes emperor.
c.100 Musonius Rufus dies.
c.107–9 Arrian studies with Epictetus.
117 Trajan dies; Hadrian becomes emperor.
Date unknown Hadrian visits Epictetus’ school.
121 Marcus Aurelius born.
Date unknown Epictetus adopts a child.
c.135 Epictetus dies.
138 Hadrian dies; Antoninus Pius, father of Marcus
Aurelius, becomes emperor.
DISCOURSES
 PREFATORY LETTER

Arrian to Lucius Gellius, greeting

[1] I did not write these discourses of Epictetus as one might normally write
books of this kind, nor did I myself release them to the public, since I can in fact
declare that I did not even write them. [2] But rather, I tried to note down
whatever I heard him say, in his own words as far as possible, so as to preserve
memoranda for myself in the future of his manner of thought and frankness of
speech. [3] These are, then, as one might expect, the kind of things that one
person would say to another on the spur of the moment, and not such as he
would write to find a readership in later times. [4] Being such as they are, they
have fallen somehow or other, without my consent or knowledge, into the hands
of the public. [5] But to me it is of no great matter if I shall be thought incapable
of writing a book, and to Epictetus it will not matter in the slightest if anyone
views his discourses with disdain, because even when he was speaking, he
plainly had no other aim than to move the minds of those who were listening
towards what is best. [6] If these discourses should achieve that same effect,
they would be producing the result, I think, that the words of a philosopher
ought to produce; [7] but if they fail to do so, those who read them should
understand that when Epictetus himself was speaking, the listener was
compelled to feel just what Epictetus wanted him to feel. [8] If the words on
their own, however, do not accomplish that effect, it may be that I am to blame,
or perhaps it could hardly be otherwise. Farewell.
 BOOK 1

1.1 About things that are within our power and those that are not

[1] Among all the arts and faculties, you’ll find none that can take itself as an
object of study, and consequently none that can pass judgement of approval or
disapproval upon itself. [2] In the case of grammar, how far does its power of
observation extend? Only as far as to pass judgement on what is written. And in
the case of music? Only as far as to pass judgement on the melody. [3] Does
either of them, then, make itself an object of study? Not at all. If you’re writing
to a friend, grammar will tell you what letters you ought to choose, but as to
whether or not you ought to write to your friend, grammar won’t tell you that.
And the same is true of music with regard to melodies; as to whether or not you
should sing or play the lyre at this time, that is something that music won’t tell
you. [4] What will tell you, then? The faculty that takes both itself and
everything else as an object of study. And what is that? The faculty of reason.
For that alone of all the faculties that we’ve been granted is capable of
understanding both itself—what it is, what it is capable of, and what value it
contributes—and all the other faculties too. [5] For what else is it that tells us
that gold is beautiful? For the gold itself doesn’t tell us. It is clear, then, that this
is the faculty that has the capacity to deal with impressions. [6] What else can
judge music, grammar, and the other arts and faculties, and assess the use that
we make of them, and indicate the proper occasions for their use? None other
than this.

[7] It was fitting, then, that the gods have placed in our power only the best
faculty of all, the one that rules over all the others, that which enables us to make
right use of our impressions; but everything else they haven’t placed within our
power. [8] Was it that they didn’t want to? I think for my part that, if they could,
they would have entrusted those other powers to us too; but that was something
that they just couldn’t do. [9] For in view of the fact that we’re here on earth,
and are shackled to a body like our own, and to such companions as we have,
how could it be possible that, in view of all that, we shouldn’t be hampered by
external things?
[10] But what does Zeus* have to say about this? ‘If it had been possible,
Epictetus, I would have ensured that your poor body and petty possessions were
free and immune from hindrance. [11] But as things are, you mustn’t forget that
this body isn’t truly your own, but is nothing more than cleverly moulded clay.
[12] But since I couldn’t give you that, I’ve given you a certain portion of
myself, this faculty of motivation to act and not to act, of desire and aversion,
and, in a word, the power to make proper use of impressions; if you pay good
heed to this, and entrust all that you have to its keeping, you’ll never be
hindered, never obstructed, and you’ll never groan, never find fault, and never
flatter anyone at all. [13] What, does all of that strike you as being of small
account?’ Certainly not. ‘So you’re content with that?’ I pray so to the gods.

[14] But as things are, although we have it in our power to apply ourselves to
one thing alone, and devote ourselves to that, we choose instead to apply
ourselves to many things, and attach ourselves to many, to our body, and our
possessions, and our brother, and friend, and child, and slave. [15] And so, being
attached in this way to any number of things, we’re weighed down by them and
dragged down. [16] That is why, if the weather prevents us from sailing, we sit
there in a state of anxiety, constantly peering around. ‘What wind is this?’ The
North Wind. And what does it matter to us and to him? ‘When will the West
Wind blow?’ When it so chooses, my good friend, or rather, when Aeolus
chooses; for God hasn’t appointed you to be controller of the winds, he has
appointed Aeolus. [17] What are we to do, then? To make the best of what lies
within our power, and deal with everything else as it comes. ‘How does it come,
then?’ As God wills.

[18] ‘What, am I to be beheaded now, and I alone?’

Why, would you want everyone to be beheaded for your consolation? [19]
Aren’t you willing to stretch out your neck as Lateranus* did at Rome when
Nero ordered that he should be beheaded? For he stretched out his neck, received
the blow, and when it proved to be too weak, shrank back for an instant, but then
stretched out his neck again. [20] And moreover, on an earlier occasion, when
Epaphroditus* came to him and asked him why he had fallen out with the
emperor, he replied, ‘If I care to, I’ll explain that to your master.’

[21] What, then, should we have at hand to help us in such emergencies? Why,
what else than to know what is mine and what isn’t mine, and what is in my
power and what isn’t? [22] I must die; so must I die groaning too? I must be
imprisoned; so must I grieve at that too? I must depart into exile; so can anyone
prevent me from setting off with a smile, cheerfully and serenely? ‘Tell me the
secrets.’ [23] I won’t reveal them; for that lies within my power. ‘Then I’ll have
you chained up.’ What are you saying, man, chain me up? You can chain my leg,
but not even Zeus can overcome my power of choice. [24] ‘I’ll throw you into
prison.’ You mean my poor body. ‘I’ll have you beheaded.’ Why, did I ever tell
you that I’m the only man to have a neck that can’t be severed? [25] These are
the thoughts that those who embark on philosophy ought to reflect upon; it is
these that they should write about day after day, and it is in these that they
should train themselves.

[26] Thrasea* was in the habit of saying, ‘I’d rather be killed today than be sent
into exile tomorrow.’ [27] So what did Rufus* say in reply? ‘If you choose death
as being the heavier misfortune, what a foolish choice that is; if you choose it as
being the lighter, who has granted you that choice? Aren’t you willing to be
content with what is granted to you?’

[28] So what was it that Agrippinus* used to say? ‘I won’t become an obstacle
to myself.’ The news was brought to him that ‘your case is being tried in the
Senate’.

[29] —‘May everything go well! But the fifth hour has arrived’—this was the
hour in which he was in the habit of taking his exercise and then having a cold
bath—‘so let’s go off and take some exercise.’ [30] When he had completed his
exercise, someone came and told him, ‘You’ve been convicted.’—‘To exile,’ he
asked, ‘or to death?’—‘To exile.’—‘What about my property?’—‘It hasn’t been
confiscated.’—‘Then let’s go away to Aricia and eat our meal there.’ [31] This is
what it means to train oneself in the matters in which one ought to train oneself,
to have rendered one’s desires incapable of being frustrated, and one’s aversions
incapable of falling into what they want to avoid. [32] I’m bound to die. If at
once, I’ll go to my death; if somewhat later, I’ll eat my meal, since the hour has
arrived for me to do so, and then die afterwards. And how? As suits someone
who is giving back that which is not his own.

1.2 How one may preserve one’s proper character in everything

[1] For a rational being, only what is contrary to nature is unendurable, while
anything that is reasonable can be endured. [2] Blows are not by nature
unendurable.—‘How so?’—Look at it in this way: Spartans will put up with a
beating in the knowledge that it is a reasonable punishment. [3] —‘But to be
hanged, isn’t that past bearing?’—When someone feels it to be reasonable,
though, he’ll go off and hang himself. [4] In short, if we look with due care,
we’ll find that there is nothing by which the rational creature is so distressed as
by that which is contrary to reason, and that, conversely, there is nothing to
which he is so attracted as that which is reasonable.

[5] But these concepts of the reasonable and unreasonable mean different things
to different people, as do those of good and bad, and the profitable and
unprofitable. [6] It is for that reason above all that we have need of education, so
as to be able to apply our preconceptions of what is reasonable and unreasonable
to particular cases in accordance with nature. [7] Now, to determine what is
reasonable or unreasonable, not only do we have to form a judgement about the
value of external things, but we also have to judge how they stand in relation to
our own specific character. [8] It is thus reasonable for one person to hold out a
chamber pot for another simply in view of the fact that, if he fails to do so, he’ll
get a beating and no food, but will suffer no rough or painful treatment if he does
hold it; [9] whereas, for another person, it won’t just seem intolerable to hold out
a pot himself, but even to allow someone else to do so for him. [10] If you ask
me, then, ‘Shall I hold out the pot or not?’, I’ll reply that it is of greater value to
get food than not to get it, and a worse thing to be beaten than not to be beaten,
so if you measure your interests by these standards, you should go and hold out
the pot. [11] ‘Yes, but that would be beneath me.’ It is for you to take that
further point into consideration, not me, since you’re the one who knows
yourself, and knows what value you set on yourself, and at what price you’ll sell
yourself; for different people sell themselves at different prices.

[12] That’s why, when Florus was considering whether he should attend Nero’s
show to perform some part in it himself, Agrippinus* said to him, ‘Go!’; [13]
and when Florus asked him, ‘Then why aren’t you going yourself?’, he replied,
‘Because I’ve never even considered it.’ [14] For as soon as anyone begins to
consider such questions, assessing and comparing the values of external things,
he comes near to being one of those people who have lost all sense of their
proper character. [15] What are you asking me, then? ‘Is death or life to be
regarded as preferable?’ I answer: Life. [16] ‘Pain or pleasure?’ I answer:
Pleasure. ‘But if I don’t agree to play a role in the tragedy, I’ll lose my head.’
[17] Go and play that role then, but I won’t play one. ‘Why?’ Because you
regard yourself as being just one thread among all the threads in the tunic. ‘So
what follows?’ You should consider how you can be like other people, just as
one thread doesn’t want to be marked out from all the other threads. [18] But for
my part, I want to be the purple,* the small gleaming band that makes all the rest
appear splendid and beautiful. Why do you tell me, then, to ‘be like everything
else’? In that case, how shall I still be the purple?

[19] Helvidius Priscus* saw this too, and having seen it, acted upon it. When
Vespasian sent word to him to tell him not to attend a meeting of the Senate, he
replied, ‘It lies in your power not to allow me to be a senator, but as long as I
remain one, I have to attend its meetings.’ [20] —‘Well, if you do attend, hold
your tongue.’—‘If you don’t ask for my opinion, I’ll hold my tongue.’—‘But
I’m bound to ask you.’—‘And I for my part must reply as I think fit.’ [21]
—‘But if you do, I’ll have you executed.’—‘Well, when have I ever claimed to
you that I’m immortal? You fulfil your role, and I’ll fulfil mine. It is yours to
have me killed, and mine to die without a tremor; it is yours to send me into
exile, and mine to depart without a qualm.’

[22] What good, you ask, did Priscus achieve, then, being just a single
individual? And what does the purple achieve for the tunic? What else than
standing out in it as purple, and setting a fine example for all the rest? [23]
Another man, if he’d been told by Caesar to stay away from the Senate in such
circumstances, would have replied, ‘Thank you for excusing me.’ [24] But
Caesar wouldn’t have tried to stop such a man from going to the Senate in the
first place, knowing that he would either sit there like a jug, or else, if he did
speak, would say exactly what he knew Caesar would want him to say, piling on
plenty more in addition.

[25] It is in this way that a certain athlete behaved too, when he was in danger of
dying if his genitals* weren’t cut off. His brother (who was a philosopher) came
to him and said, ‘Well brother, what are you planning to do? Are we to cut off
this part of you and go to the gymnasium as usual?’ But the athlete wouldn’t
submit to that, but set his mind against it and died. [26] When someone asked,
‘How did he do that? Was it as an athlete or as a philosopher?’, Epictetus
replied: As a man, and as a man who had been proclaimed as victor at Olympia,
and had fought his corner there, and had passed his life in such places, rather
than merely having oil smeared over him at Baton’s training ground. [27] But
another man would be willing even to have his head cut off, if it were possible
for him to live without a head. [28] This is what is meant by acting according to
one’s character, and such is the weight that this consideration acquires among
those who make a habit of introducing it into their deliberations. [29] ‘Come
now, Epictetus, shave off your beard.’* If I’m a philosopher, I’ll reply: I won’t
shave it off. ‘Then I’ll have you beheaded.’ If it pleases you to do so, have me
beheaded.

[30] Someone asked, ‘Then how will each of us come to recognize what is
appropriate to his own character?’ How is it, replied Epictetus, that when a lion
attacks, the bull alone is aware of its own might, and hurls itself forward on
behalf of the entire herd? Isn’t it clear that the possession of such power is
accompanied at the same time by an awareness of that power? [31] And in our
case too, if someone possesses such power, he won’t fail to be aware of it. [32]
And yet a bull doesn’t become a bull all at once, any more than a man acquires
nobility of mind all at once; no, he must undergo hard winter training, and so
make himself ready, rather than hurl himself without proper thought into what is
inappropriate for him.

[33] Only, consider at what price you’re willing to sell your power of choice. If
nothing else, make sure, man, that you don’t sell it cheap. But what is great and
exceptional is perhaps the province of others, of Socrates* and people of that
kind.

[34] ‘Why is it, then, if we are fitted by nature to act in such a way, all or many
of us don’t behave like that?’

What, do all horses become swift-running, or all dogs quick on the scent? [35]
And then, because I’m not naturally gifted, shall I therefore abandon all effort to
do my best? Heaven forbid. [36] Epictetus won’t be better than Socrates; but
even if I’m not too bad,* that is good enough for me. [37] For I won’t ever be a
Milo* either, and yet I don’t neglect my body; nor a Croesus, and I don’t neglect
my property; nor in general do I cease to make any effort in any regard whatever
merely because I despair of achieving perfection.

1.3 How, from the idea that God is the father of human beings, one
may proceed to what follows

[1] If only one could be properly convinced of this truth, that we’re all first and
foremost children of God,* and that God is the father of both human beings and
gods, I think one would never harbour any mean or ignoble thought about
oneself. [2] Why, if Caesar were to adopt you, no one would be able to endure
your conceit; so if you know that you’re a son of God, won’t you be filled with
pride? [3] As things stand, however, we don’t react in that way, but since these
two elements* have been mixed together in us from our conception, the body,
which we have in common with the animals, and reason and intelligence, which
we share with the gods, some of us incline towards the kinship that is wretched
and mortal, and only a few of us towards that which is divine and blessed. [4]
Now since everyone, whoever he may be, is bound to deal with each matter in
accordance with the belief that he holds about it, those few who think they were
born for fidelity, for self-respect, and for the sound use of impressions will never
harbour any mean or ignoble thought about themselves, whereas the majority of
people will do exactly the opposite. [5] ‘For what am I? A poor wretched man,’
they say, or ‘This miserable flesh of mine’. [6] Miserable, to be sure, but you
also have something better in you than that poor flesh. Why do you neglect that,
then, and attach yourself to what is mortal?

[7] It is because of this kinship with the flesh that some of us who incline
towards it become like wolves, perfidious, treacherous, noxious creatures; or
others like lions, wild, savage, and untamed creatures; or in most cases like
foxes, or something even more ignominious and base. [8] For what else is a
slanderous and ill-natured person than a fox, or something even more
unfortunate and base. [9] Watch out, then, and take care that you don’t end as
one of these wretched creatures!

1.4 On progress

[1] One who is making progress, having learned from the philosophers that
desire has good things for its object, and aversion bad things, and having also
learned that serenity and freedom from passion can be achieved only by one who
is neither frustrated in his desires nor falls into what he wants to avoid—such a
person, then, has rid himself of desire* altogether and put it aside for the present,
and feels aversion only towards those things that lie within the sphere of choice.
[2] For if he tries to avoid anything that lies outside the sphere of choice, he
knows that he’ll run into some such thing one day, in spite of the aversion that
he feels for it, and so be unhappy. [3] Now, if virtue promises to enable us to
achieve happiness, freedom from passion, and serenity, then progress towards
virtue is surely also progress towards each of these states. For it is invariably the
case that, [4] whatever the end may be towards which perfection in anything
definitively leads, progress marks an approach towards that end.

[5] How does it come about, then, that when we agree that virtue is something of
this kind, we seek and display progress elsewhere? What does virtue achieve for
us? Serenity. [6] Who is making progress, then? Someone who has read many
treatises by Chrysippus?* [7] For if that is the case, virtue assuredly consists in
nothing else than in having gained a knowledge of Chrysippus. [8] As things are,
then, while acknowledging that virtue achieves one result, we’re yet declaring
that the approach to virtue, namely progress, produces another. [9] ‘That
person’, someone says, ‘is already able to read Chrysippus on his own.’ By the
gods, man, you’re making excellent progress, what wonderful progress! [10]
‘Why are you making fun of him?’ And you, why are you diverting him from an
awareness of his own failings? Aren’t you willing to show him what virtue
achieves, so that he may learn where to look for progress? [11] Look for it,
wretch, where your proper task lies. And where is that? In desire and aversion,
so that you may neither fail to attain what you desire, nor fall into what you want
to avoid; in motivation to act or not to act, so that you may not go wrong in that;
and in assent and the withholding of assent, so that you may not be deceived.
[12] The first two areas of study come first, as the most essential. But if you’re
still afraid and trembling as you seek to avoid falling into what you want to
avoid, how, I ask, can you make any progress?

[13] Come now, show me what progress you’re making in this regard. Suppose I
were talking with an athlete and said, Show me your shoulders, and he were to
reply, ‘Look at my jumping-weights.’* That’s quite enough of you and your
weights! What I want to see is what you’ve achieved by use of those jumping-
weights. [14] ‘Take the treatise On Motivation and see how thoroughly I’ve read
it.’ That’s not what I’m seeking to know, slave, but how you’re exercising your
motives to act and not to act, and how you’re managing your desires and
aversions, and how you’re approaching all of this, and how you’re applying
yourself to it, and preparing for it, and whether in harmony with nature or out of
harmony with it. [15] If in harmony, give me evidence of that, and I’ll tell you
whether you’re making progress; but if out of harmony, go away, and don’t be
satisfied merely to interpret those books, but also write some books of that kind
yourself. And what good will that do you? [16] Don’t you know that the whole
book costs only five denarii?* So do you suppose that someone who interprets it
is worth more than five denarii? [17] Never look for your work in one place,
then, and your progress in another.
[18] So where is progress to be found? If any of you turns away from external
things to concentrate his efforts on his own power of choice, to cultivate it and
perfect it, so as to bring it into harmony with nature, raising it up and rendering it
free, unhindered, unobstructed, trustworthy, and self-respecting; [19] and if he
has come to understand that whoever longs for things that are not within his
power, or seeks to avoid them, can neither be trustworthy nor free, but must
necessarily be subject to change, and be tossed in all directions along with those
things, and is inevitably placing himself under the domination of other people,
namely, those who can secure or prevent such things; [20] and if, finally, when
he gets up in the morning, he holds in mind what he has learned and keeps true
to it, if he bathes as a trustworthy person, and eats as a self-respecting person,
putting his guiding principles into action in relation to anything that he has to
deal with, just as a runner does in the practice of running, or a voice trainer in
the training of voices [21] —this, then, is the person who is truly making
progress; this is the person who hasn’t travelled in vain!

[22] But if he has directed his efforts to what is contained in books, and that is
what he toils away at, and it was for that that he has travelled abroad, I would
ask him to return home at once and no longer neglect his affairs there, [23]
because he has made his journey for no purpose; no, what is truly worthwhile is
to study how to rid one’s life of distress and lamentation, and of cries of ‘Ah,
what sorrow is mine!’ and ‘Poor wretch that I am!’, and of misfortune and
adversity; [24] and to learn what death, banishment, prison, and hemlock really
are, so that one may be able to say in prison like Socrates, ‘My dear Crito,* if it
pleases the gods that this should come about, so be it!’, rather than, ‘Alas, poor
old man that I am, this is what was kept in store for my grey hairs!’ [25] Who
speaks in such terms? Do you think that I’ll mention some obscure man of
humble origin? Doesn’t Priam talk like that? Doesn’t Oedipus? Is there, indeed,
any king who doesn’t? [26] For what else is tragedy than the portrayal in tragic
verse of the sufferings of men who have attached high value to external things?
[27] If one has to be deceived into learning that external things that lie outside
the sphere of choice are nothing to us, I for my part would willingly undergo
such deception, if it would enable me to live a life of undisturbed serenity from
that time onward; but as to what you wish for, it is for you to look to that.

[28] What does Chrysippus offer us, then? ‘So that you may know’, he says,
‘that those thoughts are not false from which serenity comes to us and freedom
from passion, [29] take my books and you will know that they are true and in
harmony with nature, the thoughts that render me free from passion.’ Oh, what
great good fortune! And how great is the benefactor* who shows us the way!
[30] People everywhere have raised shrines and altars to Triptolemus* for
having given us cultivated crops for our nourishment; [31] but to him who
discovered, and brought to light and communicated to all, the truth that enables
us not merely to keep alive, but to live a good life—who among you has ever
raised an altar in his honour, or a temple or statue, or bows down to God to thank
him for this benefaction? [32] For having granted us corn or the vine, we offer
up sacrifices to the gods, and yet when they have brought forth such a wonderful
fruit in the human mind, by setting out to reveal to us the truth about happiness,
shall we fail to offer thanks to God for that?

1.5 Against the Academics

[1] If someone, says Epictetus, refuses to accept what is patently obvious, it is

not easy to find arguments to use against him that could cause him to change his
mind. [2] And the reason for this lies neither in his own strength, nor in the
weakness of the one who is trying to instruct him; but the fact is that when
someone who has been driven into a corner turns to stone, how can one hope to
deal with him any further through argument?

[3] Petrifaction of this kind takes two forms, the one being a petrifaction of the
intellect, and the other of moral feeling, when someone who is in the line of
battle is willing neither to grant assent to what is plainly obvious nor to withdraw
from the fray. [4] Most of us fear the deadening of the body and would resort to
every means to avoid falling into such a state, but when it comes to the
deadening of the soul, we’re not in the least concerned. [5] And if, by Zeus, with
regard to the soul itself, someone falls into such a state as to be incapable of
following or understanding any argument, we think that he is in a bad way; but if
someone’s moral feeling and sense of shame are deadened, we even go so far as
to call that strength of mind!

[6] Do you recognize that you’re awake? ‘No’, replies the Academic, ‘no more
than when, in my dreams, I have the impression of being awake.’ Is there no
difference at all, then, between the one impression and the other? ‘None.’ [7]
How can I argue with this man any further? What fire, what steel, can I apply to
him to make him realize that he has become deadened? If he does realize, he
pretends not to; he is even worse than a corpse. [8] One man doesn’t see the
contradiction; he is in a bad state. This man, by contrast, sees it, but isn’t moved
and doesn’t improve; he is in an even worse state. [9] His sense of shame and
moral feeling have been completely excised, and his faculty of reason, if not
excised, has been brutalized at any rate. Am I to call this strength of mind?
Heaven forbid, unless I am also to apply that description to the quality that
enables degenerates to do and say in public whatever comes into their heads.

1.6 On providence

[1] From everything that comes about in the universe one may easily find cause
to praise providence* if one possesses these two qualities, the capacity to view
each particular event in relation to the whole, and a sense of gratitude. [2] For,
otherwise, one will either fail to recognize the usefulness of what has come
about, or else fail to be truly grateful if one does in fact recognize it.

[3] If God had created colours without also having created the faculty of vision,
what good would that have served?—‘None at all.’ [4] —Conversely, if he had
created the faculty of vision without causing objects to be of such a nature as to
be visible to it, what good would have been served in that case too?—‘None.’ [5]
—Or again, if he had brought about these two things, but hadn’t created light?
[6] —‘In that case, too, no good would have been served.’—Who is it, then, who
has adapted one thing to another? Who has adapted the sword to the scabbard
and the scabbard to the sword? Can it be no one? [7] And yet from the very
structure of such artefacts, we’re accustomed to recognize that they’re
undoubtedly the work of some maker, rather than being mere products of
chance. [8] Does each of these works reveal its maker, then, while visible objects
and vision and light do not? [9] And male and female, and the desire that they
have for intercourse with one another, and the power that they have to make use
of the organs that have been constructed for that purpose, do these things not
reveal their maker either? Surely they do. [10] This remarkable constitution* of
our mind, which enables us not only to receive impressions from sensible objects
when they act upon us, but also to choose certain impressions from among them,
and subtract from them, and add to them, and so make various combinations, and
also, by Zeus, substitute some for others which are in some way related to them
—can it really be the case that even this isn’t enough to move some people, and
make them change their ideas so as to make allowance for the maker? [11] Or
otherwise, let them explain what it is that brings all of this about, or how it is
possible that such wonders that bear all the signs of workmanship could come
into being by chance and of their own accord.
[12] Well now, is it in us human beings alone that these things come about?
Many, indeed, in us alone, those of which the rational animal has a special need,
but you’ll find that we share many of them with the irrational animals too. [13]
Is it the case, then, that they too understand how things come about? No, not at
all, since use is one thing and understanding is another. God had need both of
these creatures, which merely make use of impressions, and of ourselves, who
understand the use of them. [14] For them, it is enough merely to eat, drink, take
rest and procreate, and perform such other functions as are appropriate to each,
whereas for ourselves, who have been further endowed with the faculty of
understanding, [15] that is no longer enough, but unless we act in a methodical
and orderly fashion, and in accordance with our own specific nature and
constitution, we shall no longer attain our proper end. [16] For in so far as beings
have different constitutions, their works and their ends will differ too. [17] So
where a being’s constitution is adapted for use alone, mere use suffices; but
where a being also has the capacity to understand that use, unless that capacity
be properly exercised in addition, he will never attain his end. [18] What of the
animals? God has constituted each according to its intended purpose, one to be
eaten, another to be used in the fields, another to produce cheese, and another for
some comparable use; and to be able to perform these functions, how is it
necessary for them to be able to understand impressions and be capable of
distinguishing between them? [19] But God has brought the human race into the
world to be a spectator of himself and of his works, and not merely to observe
them, but also to interpret them. [20] It is thus shameful for a human being to
begin and end where the irrational animals do. Rather, he should start off where
they do and end where nature ended with regard to ourselves. [21] Now it ended
with contemplation, and understanding, and a way of life that is in harmony with
nature. [22] Take care, then, that you don’t die without having contemplated
these realities.

[23] You travel all the way to Olympia to look at the work of Phidias,* and all of
you regard it as a misfortune to die without having seen such sights; [24] and
yet, where no journey is required and you already have the works in front of you,
have you no desire, then, to view them and to understand them? [25] Will you
never come to recognize, then, who you are and what you were born for, or what
is the nature of this spectacle to which you have been admitted?

[26] ‘But unpleasant and distressing things come about in this life.’

And don’t such things come about at Olympia? Aren’t you scorched by the heat?
Aren’t you crowded and jostled? Don’t you find it difficult to wash? Don’t you
get soaked when it rains? Aren’t you exposed to no end of uproar and shouting
and other irritations? [27] But by balancing all these things off against the
remarkable nature of the spectacle, I imagine that you’re able to accept and
endure them. [28] Come now, haven’t you been endowed with faculties that
enable you to bear whatever may come about? Haven’t you been endowed with
greatness of soul? And with courage? And with endurance? [29] If only I have
greatness of soul, what reason is left for me to be worried about anything that
may come to pass? What can disconcert or trouble me, or seem in any way
distressing? Shall I fail to apply my capacities to the end for which I have
received them, but instead groan and lament about things that come about?

[30] ‘Yes, but my nose is running.’ Then what do you have hands for, you slave?
Isn’t it to be able to wipe your nose? [31] ‘But is there any good reason why
there should be runny noses in the world?’ [32] How much better it would be for
you to wipe your nose than to find fault. What kind of a man do you suppose
Heracles* would have become if it hadn’t been for the famous lion, and the
hydra, the stag, the boar, and the wicked and brutal men whom he drove away
and cleared from the earth? [33] What would he have turned his hand to if
nothing like that had existed? Isn’t it plain that he would have wrapped himself
up in a blanket and gone to sleep? First of all, then, he would surely never have
become a Heracles if he had slumbered the whole of his life away in such luxury
and tranquillity; and even if he had, what good would that have been to him?
[34] What would have been the use of his arms and of all his strength,
endurance, and nobility of mind if such circumstances and opportunities hadn’t
been there to rouse him and exercise him?

[35] ‘What, should he have secured such opportunities for himself, then, and
have sought to introduce a lion into his land from somewhere else, and a boar,
and a hydra?’

[36] That would be sheer stupidity and madness. But since they did in fact exist
and were to be found, they served a useful purpose in revealing and exercising
Heracles.

[37] So come on, then, now that you recognize these things, and consider the
faculties that you possess, and after having done so, say, ‘Bring on me now,
Zeus, whatever trouble you may wish, since I have the equipment that you
granted to me and such resources as will enable me to distinguish myself
through whatever may happen.’* [38] No, but you sit there trembling at the
thought that certain things may come about, and wailing, grieving, and groaning
at others that do come about; and then you cast blame on the gods. [39] For what
else than impiety can result from such meanness of spirit? [40] And yet God has
not only granted us these faculties that enable us to endure whatever may happen
without being debased or crushed by it, but has also granted them to us—as
befits a good king and, in truth, father—free from all hindrance, compulsion, and
restraint, placing them entirely within our own power, without reserving any
power even for himself to hinder or restrain them. [41] Possessing these faculties
as you do, free and as your own, you fail to make use of them, however, and fail
to perceive what it is that you have received, and from whom, [42] but sit there
grieving and groaning, some of you blinded towards the giver and not even
recognizing your benefactor, while others are led astray by their meanness of
spirit into making reproaches and complaints against God. [43] And yet I can
show you that you have the resources and equipment that are needed to be noble-
minded and courageous, while it is for you to show me what occasion you have
for complaint and reproach!

1.7 On the use of equivocal and hypothetical arguments and the like

[1] Most people fail to realize that the study of equivocal and hypothetical
arguments, and of those that are developed through questioning, and, in a word,
all such arguments, has some relevance to the duties of life. [2] For in every area
of study, we’re seeking to learn how a good and virtuous person may discover
the path that he should follow in life and the way in which he should conduct
himself. [3] So it must be said, then, either that a virtuous person won’t engage
in question and answer, [4] or that if he does, he will make no effort to approach
such arguments in anything other than a random and careless manner; or else, if
one accepts neither of these assertions, it must be conceded that one should
make some study of those topics with which question and answer are principally
concerned.

[5] For what is required in reasoning? To establish the truth, reject what is false,
and suspend judgement in doubtful cases. [6] Is it enough, then, to learn that
alone?

‘Yes, it’s enough,’ someone replies.

Is it also enough, then, for someone who wants to avoid any mistake in the use
Is it also enough, then, for someone who wants to avoid any mistake in the use
of coinage merely to hear it said, ‘Accept good drachmas and reject those that
are counterfeit’?

[7] ‘No, that’s not enough.’

So what is required in addition? Why, what else than the capacity to test the
coinage and distinguish the good drachmas from the counterfeit? [8] And
likewise, in reasoning too, the words that are spoken are surely not sufficient, but
it is necessary too to know how to test them and distinguish the true from the
false and the uncertain?

‘That is indeed necessary.’

[9] Apart from that, what else is required in reasoning? You must accept what
follows from the premisses that have rightly been granted by you. [10] Come
now, is it enough in this area, too, merely to know this specific thing? No, it is
not enough, one must also learn how one thing follows as a consequence from
certain other things, and how one thing is sometimes derived from a single thing,
and sometimes from several in conjunction. [11] Isn’t it necessary, then, to
acquire this skill in addition if one is to conduct oneself intelligently in
argument, and be able to prove each of one’s points, and to follow other people’s
demonstrations, without being misled by those who put forward sophistic
arguments by way of proof? [12] This has given rise among us to the study and
practice of inferential arguments and logical figures, and it has become clear that
these are necessary.

[13] But it sometimes comes about that, when we have properly granted certain
premisses, certain conclusions are derived from them that, though false,
nonetheless follow from them. [14] What am I to do, then? Accept the false
conclusion? [15] And how is that possible? Then should I say that I was wrong
to accept the premisses? No, this isn’t permissible either. Or say: That doesn’t
follow from the premisses? But that again isn’t permissible. [16] So what is one
to do in such circumstances? Isn’t it the same as with debts? Just as having
borrowed on some occasion isn’t enough to make somebody a debtor, but it is
necessary in addition that he continues to owe the money and hasn’t paid off the
loan; likewise, our having accepted the premisses isn’t enough to make it
necessary for us to accept the inference, but we have to continue to accept the
premisses. [17] If the premisses remain* to the end such as they were when they
were granted, it is altogether necessary that we continue to hold to them, and
admit the conclusions that follow from them; [18] [or if the contrary applies, that
we shouldn’t]. [19] For us, in that case, and from our present point of view, that
conclusion no longer follows, since we’ve renounced our acceptance of the
premisses. [20] This, then, is what we need to examine with regard to premisses,
changes of this kind and modifications in them, because if in the course of
question and answer, or in drawing conclusions, or at any other stage of the
argument, the premisses undergo these modifications, they will become a cause
of trouble for the inexperienced if they cannot see what follows. Why do we
need to do this? [21] So that in this regard, we should not act inappropriately, or
at random, or in a confused manner.

[22] And the same is true of hypotheses and hypothetical arguments. For it is
sometimes necessary to postulate some hypothesis as a basis for the approach to
the argument that follows. [23] So should we grant every hypothesis that is
proposed, or not all of them? And if not all, then which? [24] And once one has
granted a hypothesis, should one hold to it for ever and continue to maintain it,
or are there occasions when one should abandon it? And as regards the
conclusions that follow from it, should one accept them, and reject those that
conflict with it?

‘Yes.’

[25] But someone says, ‘If you grant a possible hypothesis, I’ll force you
through argument to accept an impossibility.’ Would a wise person refuse to
engage with someone such as this, and avoid all enquiry and discussion? [26]
And yet who would be more capable than he of conducting an argument, and
more adept in question and answer, and less liable, by Zeus, to be deceived and
fall victim to sophisms? [27] Well then, will he agree to engage in discussion,
but without taking care not to proceed carelessly and haphazardly in the
argument? If so, how could he still be the kind of person we imagine him to be?
[28] Without some such practice and preparation, however, how will it be
possible for him to reason conclusively? [29] Show that he will be able to do
this, and all these studies will be superfluous and absurd, and inconsistent with
the idea that we have formed of the good person. [30] Why do we still remain
indolent, careless, and sluggish; why do we look for excuses to avoid hard work,
or avoid staying awake to cultivate our reason?

[31] ‘But after all, if I go astray in these matters, it’s not as if I’ve killed my
father, is it?’
Tell me, slave, where was your father present here for you to kill him? So what
have you actually done? Committed the only fault that it was possible for you to
commit in the present context. [32] I myself made the very same remark to
Rufus* when he once criticized me for not having discovered the missing step in
a syllogism: Why, I said, it’s not as if I’ve burned down the Capitol! To which
he retorted, ‘In this case, slave, that missing step is indeed the Capitol!’ [33] Or
are there no other faults than burning down the Capitol or killing one’s father?
Whereas to deal with our impressions in a random, ill-considered, and haphazard
fashion, to be unable to follow an argument or demonstration or sophism, and, in
a word, to be unable to make out, in question and answer, what is consistent with
one’s position and what is not—is none of this is to be regarded as a fault?

1.8 That our reasoning faculties are not free of danger for the
uneducated

[1] In as many ways as we can vary the forms of equivalent terms with one
another, in so many ways also may the forms of logical proofs and
enthymemes* be varied in reasoning. [2] Take this form of argument, for
instance: ‘If you have borrowed and have not repaid, you owe me the money.’
This is equivalent to ‘You have not borrowed and have not repaid, so you do not
owe me the money.’ [3] And no one is better fitted than a philosopher to vary
the forms of argument with skill. For if an enthymeme is indeed an incomplete
syllogism, it is clear that someone who has had practice in handling the
complete syllogism will be no less capable of handling the incomplete one.

[4] Why is it, then, that we fail to train ourselves and one another in this way?
[5] Because even now, when we aren’t training ourselves in these matters, and
aren’t being diverted by me at least from the study of moral questions, we’re
making no progress all the same towards the right and the good. [6] So what
should we expect if we undertake this work in addition? And especially because
this would not only be a further activity that would distract us from more
essential studies, but it would also give occasion for vanity and conceit, and in
no small way. [7] For logical and persuasive reasoning can exercise a powerful
effect, especially if they’re developed through training and are lent further
plausibility through the skilful use of language. [8] The fact is that, as a general
rule, every capacity that is acquired by uneducated people of weak character
tends to be dangerous for them, in so far as it makes them conceited and
presumptuous in that regard. [9] For how on earth can one persuade a young
man who excels in these studies that he should not become an appendage to
them, but rather make them an appendage to himself? [10] Won’t he trample all
these appeals underfoot, and walk about among us full of pride and puffed up
with conceit, never being willing to allow that anyone should try to remind him
of his shortcomings, and of where he has gone astray?

[11] ‘What, wasn’t Plato* a philosopher?’

Yes, and wasn’t Hippocrates* a doctor? And yet you can see how well
Hippocrates expresses himself. [12] But is it by virtue of being a doctor that he
expresses himself so well? Why, then, do you confuse things that come to be
found together by accident in the same individual? [13] If Plato was strong and
handsome, is it necessary that I too, sitting here, should toil to become strong or
handsome, as though that were essential to philosophy just because a certain
philosopher happened to be strong and handsome as well as being a philosopher?
[14] Don’t you want to understand and distinguish what qualities people require
in order to become philosophers, and what other qualities may be present in
them accidentally? Come now, if I could be counted* as a philosopher, would
you need to become lame like me?

Now, do I want to deny you these capacities? [15] Heaven forbid! No more than
I would wish to deny you the capacity to see. [16] All the same, if you ask me
what the human good is, I can offer you no other reply than to say that it lies in a
certain quality of choice.

1.9 How, from the idea that we are akin to God, one may proceed to
what follows

[1] If there is any truth in what the philosophers say about the kinship between
God and humanity, what course is left for human beings than to follow the
example of Socrates, and when one is asked where one is from, never to reply,
‘I’m an Athenian’ or ‘I’m a Corinthian’, but rather, ‘I’m a citizen of the
universe’? [2] For why say, in fact, that you’re an Athenian rather than just a
citizen of that corner in which your poor body was thrown down at the time of
your birth? [3] Isn’t it obvious that you choose the place that is more sovereign,
and not merely that little corner, but also your whole household, and, in a word,
the source that your entire race of ancestors has come down to you, and on that
basis you call yourself an ‘Athenian’ or a ‘Corinthian’?
[4] Now, suppose that one has studied the organization of the universe, and has
come to understand that, ‘of all things, the greatest, and most important, and
most all-embracing, is this society in which human beings and God are
associated together. From this are derived the generative forces to which not
only my father and grandfather owe their origin, but also all beings that are born
and grow on the earth, and especially rational beings, [5] since they alone are
fitted by nature to enter into communion with the divine, being bound to God
through reason.’ [6] Why shouldn’t one who understands this call himself a
citizen of the universe? Why should he fear anything that comes about for
human beings? [7] What, shall kinship with Caesar, or some other man of great
power at Rome, be enough to ensure that one will be able to live in safety, and
be secure against contempt and free from all fear, whereas having God as our
maker, our father, and our protector won’t be enough to deliver us from fear and
suffering?

[8] ‘And how am I to feed myself’, someone asks, ‘if I have nothing?’

And how do slaves do so, how do runaways; what do they rely on when they flee
from their masters? On their fields, their servants, their silverware? No, on
nothing but themselves, and yet all the same they don’t fail to find food for
themselves. [9] And must our philosopher, when he ventures abroad, place his
confidence in others and rely on them, instead of taking care of himself, and so
show himself to be worse and more cowardly than the irrational animals, every
one of which is self-sufficient, and lacks neither its proper food nor the way of
life that is appropriate to it and in accord with nature?

[10] I think for my part that your old master shouldn’t need to be sitting here
working out how to prevent you from having a mean view of yourselves, or from
developing mean and ignoble ideas about yourselves in the course of discussion.
[11] No, he should rather be seeking to ensure that there may not be among you
any young men who, when they’ve become aware of their kinship with the gods,
and have come to know that we have, so to speak, these chains attached to us—
the body and its possessions, and all that is necessary in that regard for the
maintenance and continuance of our life—may wish to cast all of this aside as
being burdensome, distressing, and useless, and depart to their own kin. [12]
That is the struggle that your master and educator, if he could properly be
described as such, should be engaging in.

You for your part would come to him and say, ‘Epictetus, we can no longer bear
to be chained to this poor body of ours, having to give it food and drink, and
provide it with rest, and keep it clean, and then having to associate with all
manner of people because of it. [13] Isn’t it true that these things are indifferent
and nothing to us, and that death is no evil? And that we are in some sense
related to God, and draw our origin from him? [14] Allow us to go back to
where we came from; allow us to be delivered at last from these chains that are
fastened to us and weigh us down. [15] Down here thieves and brigands, and
law-courts, and those who are known as tyrants, imagine that they hold some
power over us because of our poor body and its possessions. Allow us to show
them that they don’t really hold power over anyone.’

[16] It would be for me to reply as follows: You must wait for God,* my friends.
When he gives the signal and sets you free from your service here, then you may
depart to him. But for the present, you must resign yourselves to remaining in
this post in which he has stationed you. [17] It is short, in truth, the time of your
stay in this world, and easy to bear for people who are of such a mind as you.
For what tyrant, or what thief, or what law-courts, can still inspire fear in those
who no longer attach any importance to the body and its possessions? So wait,
and don’t make your departure without proper reason.

[18] Such is the stance that a teacher should adopt towards gifted young men.
[19] But what happens at present? Your teacher is a mere corpse, and you
yourselves are corpses. As soon as you’ve eaten your fill today, you sit and
moan about what tomorrow may bring, worrying about how you’ll be able to
feed yourselves. [20] If you manage to get any food, slave, you’ll have it, and if
you don’t, you’ll leave this world; the door stands open. Why grieve? What
place is left for tears? What occasion is left for flattery? Why should one person
envy another? Why should one let oneself be dazzled by those who have great
possessions and hold powerful positions, especially if they’re both strong and
bad-tempered? [21] For what can they do to us? The things that they have the
power to do are of no concern to us, and when it comes to the things that matter
to us, they have no power over those. Who can still exert any power, then, over
people who think in this way?

[22] What attitude did Socrates hold with regard to these matters? Why, what
other than that which someone is bound to hold if he is convinced that he is akin
to the gods? [23] ‘If you were to say to me now,’ he tells his judges, ‘“We will
acquit you on these conditions, that you no longer conduct the discussions that
you have conducted hitherto, and no longer pester any of us, young or old,”’ [24]
I would reply, ‘How absurd of you to think that if one of your generals had
stationed me in a post, I should hold it, and defend it, preferring to die a
thousand deaths rather than abandon it, but if God has stationed us in some
position and laid down rules of conduct, we should abandon it!’* [25] This is
what it means for a man to be truly akin to the gods. [26] As for us, however, we
think of ourselves as being mere bodies, entrails and sexual organs, because we
give way to our fears and desires; and we flatter those who might be able to help
us in this regard, while fearing those same people.

[27] Someone once asked me to write to Rome on his behalf, because he had
suffered what would commonly be regarded as a misfortune; for after having
been a man of position and wealth, he had lost everything and ended up here.
And I wrote on his behalf in a very humble tone. [28] After reading the letter,
however, he gave it back, saying, ‘It was your help that I was asking for, not
your pity; it isn’t as if anything bad has happened to me.’* [29] In the same way,
Rufus would say to me by way of a test, ‘Your master is going to do this or that
to you,’ [30] and when I responded by saying, Such is the way of human life, he
replied, ‘What use would it serve, then, for me to intercede with your master
when I can get the same result from you?’ [31] For it is indeed pointless and
foolish to seek to get from another what one can get from oneself. [32] Since I
can get greatness of soul and nobility of mind from myself, shall I seek to get a
patch of land from you, or a bit of money, or some public post? Heaven forbid! I
won’t overlook my own resources in such a manner. [33] But if someone is
abject and cowardly, what on earth can one do for him except write letters for
him as though on behalf of a corpse, ‘Do please grant us the corpse of this man
and a pint of his miserable blood’; [34] for in truth such a person is merely a
corpse and a pint of blood, and nothing more. If he amounted to anything more,
he would realize that no one suffers misfortune because of the actions of another.

1.10 To those who have set their hearts on advancement at Rome

[1] If we had devoted the same unsparing effort to our own work as the senators
at Rome have in achieving what they have set their mind on, perhaps we too
might have achieved something. [2] I know a man older than myself who is now
the official who superintends the grain supply at Rome; while he was passing
through this town on his journey back from exile, I recall what things he said to
me as he denounced his former way of life, and declared that from now on, after
he got back, he would concern himself with nothing other than living the rest of
his life in peace and calm—‘For how little time is now left to me!’ [3] To which
I replied, No, you won’t do that, but as soon as you get the slightest whiff of
Rome, you’ll forget every word of it. I added that if he were granted the least
access to the palace, he would push his way in, with a joyful heart and offering
up thanks to the gods. [4] ‘If you ever find me putting one foot inside the palace,
Epictetus,’ he replied, ‘then think what you like of me.’

[5] And what do you suppose he did? Before he even arrived in Rome, he was
met with dispatches from Caesar; on receiving them, he forgot all that he had
previously intended, and from that moment on he never ceased from heaping one
activity on top of another. [6] How I wish that I could be standing beside him
now to remind him of what he said while he was passing through, and tell him,
I’ve proved to be a much shrewder prophet than you!

[7] So what am I saying, then? That man is an animal who ought to remain
inactive? Heaven forbid! But how is it that we philosophers fail to keep active?
[8] To start with me, as soon as day arrives, I recall briefly what I am due to read
over in my lessons,* and then say all at once to myself, But what does it really
matter to me how So-and-so expounds his text? The main thing is that I should
get some sleep. [9] Even so, how are the activities of those people at Rome
comparable to ours? If you look at what they spend their time doing, you’ll see.
For what else do they do all day than reach decisions, discuss things together,
consult about a bit of grain, a patch of land, and other matters of that kind? [10]
Does it come to the same, then, to receive a little petition from someone reading,
‘I request your permission to export a little grain,’ and this, ‘I request you to
examine what Chrysippus has to say about the administration of the universe,
and the place that a rational animal occupies within it; and to consider also what
you are, and what is good for you, and what is bad’? [11] What does the one
petition have in common with the other? Do both deserve equal attention? [12]
And is it equally shameful to neglect the one and the other?

What, then, are we old philosophers the only ones who are indolent and are
inclined to nod off? [13] No, that’s much more the case with you young men. To
be sure, we old men, when we see the young at play, feel a desire on our part,
too, to join them in their play. How much more, then, if I saw them wide awake
and eager to join us in our endeavours, would I be eager to combine my efforts
with theirs.
 1.11 On family affection

[1] Epictetus once received a visit from a government official, and after
questioning him about various specific points, he asked him whether he had a
wife and children; [2] and when the man replied that he had, he went on to ask,
How do you find family life, then? ‘Miserable,’ the man said. How so? [3] For
it’s surely not for this that people marry and have children, to be miserable, but
rather in the hope of being happy. [4] ‘Well, for my part,’ the man said, ‘my
little children are such a source of distress to me that, not long ago, when my
little daughter was ill, I couldn’t bear even to be in the room with her during her
illness, but fled and stayed away until someone told me that she was well
again.’—Well then, do you think you were right to have acted in that way? [5]
—‘I was behaving naturally,’ he said. But that is the very thing that you must
convince me of, replied Epictetus, that you were behaving in accordance with
nature, and I will then convince you that whatever is done in accordance with
nature is rightly done. [6] —‘That’s how all fathers feel,’ said the man, ‘or at
least most do.’—I don’t dispute that, said Epictetus, but the point at issue
between us is whether it’s right to feel like that. [7] For in that case, one would
have to say that tumours develop for the good of the body just because they do
in fact develop, and, in a word, that to fall into error is natural just because
almost all of us, or at least most of us, do fall into error. [8] What you must show
me, then, is how your behaviour is in accordance with nature.—‘I can’t,’ the
man replied, ‘but rather, you should show me how it isn’t in accordance with
nature and how it isn’t right.’ [9] —Well, suppose we were enquiring about
black and white: what criterion would we call upon to distinguish between
them?—‘Sight,’ the man replied.—And if it were a matter of hot and cold, or
hard and soft, what would be the criterion?—‘Touch.’ [10] —Well then, since
our present debate is about whether things are in accordance with nature and
rightly done, or the opposite, what criterion would you have us take?—‘I don’t
know,’ he said. [11] —When it comes to colours and smells, to be sure, and
flavours too, to have no knowledge of the criterion will perhaps cause no great
harm, but when it comes to the nature of good and evil, and whether or not our
actions are in accordance with nature, do you suppose that someone suffers no
great harm if he has no knowledge of that?—‘On the contrary, the greatest
harm.’ [12] —Come, tell me now, is everything that is thought by certain people
to be good and fitting rightly thought to be so? Is it possible, for instance, that all
the opinions that the Jews, Syrians, Egyptians, and Romans currently hold with
regard to food are rightly held?—‘And how is that possible?’ [13] —I imagine,
on the contrary, that if the opinions of the Egyptians are right, it must
necessarily follow that the opinions of the others aren’t right; or if those of the
Jews are right, those of the others aren’t.—‘Without a doubt.’ [14] —Now
where there is ignorance, there is lack of knowledge and instruction with regard
to essential matters. The man agreed. [15] Now that you recognize this,
continued Epictetus, you will have no greater concern henceforth, and set your
mind on nothing else, than to come to know the criterion by which one can
judge whether things are in accordance with nature, and then to apply that
knowledge in judging each particular case.

[16] But for the present, this is all the assistance that I can give you in helping
you to achieve your desire. [17] Does love of one’s family strike you as being
natural and good?—‘How could it not be?’— Well then, love of one’s family is
natural and good, and isn’t what is reasonable also good?—‘Without a doubt.’
[18] —So there is thus no conflict between love of one’s family and what is
reasonable?—‘I think not.’—Otherwise it would follow that if one of the
conflicting things was in accordance with nature, the other would be contrary to
nature. Isn’t that so?—‘Absolutely.’ [19] —So it follows that wherever we find
family affection accompanied by reason, we can confidently declare it to be right
and good?—‘Yes, indeed,’ the man replied. [20] —Well then, I imagine that you
won’t deny that to abandon a child when it is ill and go off is an unreasonable
thing to do. It remains for us to consider whether that is consistent with love of
one’s family.—‘Let’s consider the matter, then.’

[21] Since you had such affection for your child, then, was it right for you to
rush off and leave it? And its mother, has she no affection for the child? [22]
—‘Of course she does.’—Should its mother too have abandoned it, then, or not?
—‘She shouldn’t have.’—And its nurse, does she love it?—‘She does,’ he said.
—Should she too have abandoned it?—‘In no way.’—And its attendant, does he
love it?—‘He does.’ [23] —Should he too have abandoned it, then, and gone off,
so that the child would have been left on its own without help as a result of the
great affection in which it was held by you, its parents, and all who had charge
of it, and would quite possibly have died in the hands of people who had no love
or care for it?—‘Heaven forbid!’ [24] —And in truth, wouldn’t it be unfair and
unreasonable that actions that one considers proper for oneself, because one feels
such affection, should not also be permitted to others who feel no less affection?
—‘It would be absurd.’ [25] —Tell me now, if it had been you who were ill,
would you have wanted all your relations, down even to your children and wife,
to prove their affection by leaving you all on your own and deserted?—‘In no
way.’

[26] Would you wish to be loved by those around you to such a degree that,
because of their all-too-great affection, you would always be left on your own
when ill? Or rather, for that very reason, wouldn’t you have wished to be loved
by your enemies instead, if that were possible, so that it would be they who left
you alone? If so, it can only be concluded that your actions were in no way
prompted by affection. [27] Well then, was it nothing at all that stirred and
impelled you to abandon your child? How could that be possible? No, it was a
motive like the one that impelled a man at Rome to cover his face when the
horse that he had backed was running, so that when the horse did in fact win,
against all expectation, they had to apply sponges to revive him from his faint.
What motive is that, then? [28] This is perhaps not the right moment for a
precise explanation,* but it is enough for us to be convinced that, if what the
philosophers say is correct, we shouldn’t look for the motive anywhere outside
ourselves, but rather accept that it is one and the same cause that moves us in
every case to do something or not do it, or to say something or not say it, or to
avoid something or pursue it, [29] the very same cause, in fact, that has
motivated my present action too and your own, yours to have come to me and be
sitting here to listen, and mine to be speaking as I am. And what cause is that?
[30] Is it anything other than this, that we thought fit to do so?

‘Nothing other.’

And if we had thought fit to act otherwise, what else would we have been doing
than that which seemed good to us? [31] Isn’t it true, then, that in the case of
Achilles, too, it wasn’t the death of Patroclus* that was the cause of his grief (for
not everyone reacts in that way to the death of a comrade), but rather that he
thought fit to grieve. [32] And in your case the other day, when you ran off, the
reason was that you thought fit to do so; and if, on the contrary, you were to stay,
that too would be because you thought fit. And now you’re going off to Rome
because you think fit to do so; and if you were to decide otherwise, you wouldn’t
go. [33] In a word, it is neither death, nor exile, nor distress, nor anything else of
that kind, that causes us to do something or not to do it, but rather our
judgements and opinions. [34] Have I convinced you of that, or not?

‘You’ve convinced me.’

So in each case, as the causes are, so also are the effects. [35] From this day
forth, then, whenever we fail to act rightly, we’ll ascribe the blame to nothing
other than the judgement that led us to act as we did, and will endeavour to
destroy it and cut it out, even more than with the tumours and abscesses of our
body. [36] In like fashion, we will also ascribe what we do rightly to the same
cause. [37] And no longer will we blame slave, or neighbour, or wife, or children
as being responsible for any of our ills, since we’re now convinced that unless
we judge things to be of a certain nature, we don’t carry out the actions that
follow from that judgement. Now when it comes to forming a judgement, or not
forming one, we’re the masters of that, and not things outside ourselves.

‘Quite so’, the man said.

[38] So accordingly, from this day onward, we’ll investigate and examine the
nature and condition of nothing else at all—be it land or slaves or horses or dogs
—but only of our judgements.—‘That’s my wish,’ he said. [39] —You can see,
then, that it is necessary for you to become a student, that creature who is the
butt of everyone’s laughter, if you really want to subject your opinions to proper
examination. And that, as you are fully aware, is not the work of a single hour or
day.

1.12 On contentment

[1] With regard to the gods,* there are some who say that the divine doesn’t
even exist, while others say that it does exist, but that it is inactive and
indifferent, and exercises no providential care; [2] while a third set of people
maintain that it both exists and exercises providential care, but only with regard
to important matters relating to the heavens, and in no way to affairs on earth; a
fourth set declare that it does take thought for earthly and human affairs, but
only in a general fashion, without showing concern for each particular
individual; [3] while a fifth set, to which both Odysseus and Socrates belonged,
say, ‘Not a movement of mine escapes you.’*

[4] We must thus start off by examining each of these positions, to see whether
or not it is soundly argued. [5] For if the gods don’t exist, how can it be our goal
in life to follow the gods? And if they do exist, but show concern for nothing
whatever, how again can that be our goal? [6] If, on the other hand, they both
exist and exercise care, but there is no communication between them and human
beings, and indeed, by Zeus, between them and me specifically, how even in that
case can this idea still be sound?

[7] One who has achieved virtue and excellence, after having examined all these
questions, submits his will to the one who governs the universe just as good
citizens submit to the law of their city. [8] And one who is still being educated
should approach his education with this aim in view: ‘How may I follow the
gods in everything, and how can I act in a way that is acceptable to the divine
administration, and how may I become free?’ [9] For someone is free if all that
happens to him comes about in accordance with his choice and no one else is
able to impede him.

[10] ‘What, is freedom madness, then?’

Heaven forbid! For freedom and madness are hardly compatible with one
another.

[11] ‘But I want whatever I wish to happen indeed to happen, regardless of how
I arrive at that wish.’

[12] You’re crazy, you’re out of your mind! Don’t you know that freedom is a
precious and admirable thing? But for me to desire arbitrarily that things should
happen as I arbitrarily decide risks being not merely far from admirable, but
even exceedingly reprehensible. Consider, now, how do we proceed when it
comes to writing? [13] Do I write the name ‘Dion’* just as I wish? Of course
not, I’m taught to want to write it as it ought to be written. And when it comes to
music? The same applies. [14] And in general, with regard to any of the arts and
sciences? The same applies. Otherwise there would be no point in trying to gain
knowledge of anything, if it could be adapted to fit everyone’s individual wishes.
[15] Is it, then, only in this most grave and important matter, that of freedom,
that it is possible for me to desire according to my whim? In no way, but rather
true education consists precisely in this, in learning to wish that everything
should come about just as it does. And how do things come about? As the one
who ordains them has ordained. [16] And he has ordained that there be summer
and winter, and abundance and shortage, and virtue and vice, and all other
opposites of that kind, and he has granted to each of us a body, and the parts that
make up that body, and objects for us to possess, and companions to share our
life.

[17] It is with this order of things in mind that we should approach our
education, and not so as to change the existing order of things (for that has not
been permitted to us, nor would it be better that it should be), but rather, things
around us being as they are and as their nature dictates, so that we for our part
may keep our will in harmony with whatever comes to pass.

[18] Well then, is it possible to flee from human society? And how could that be
possible for us? Is it possible to change people, then, if we do associate with
them? And who has granted me such a power? [19] What remains to be done,
then; what method can we discover to apply in dealing with them? A method
that will ensure that, while they for their part act as they think fit, we for our part
will remain nonetheless in accord with nature. [20] But you’re weak-spirited and
discontented, and if you’re alone, you call it desolation, and if you’re in the
company of others, you call them cheats and robbers, and you find fault even
with your parents and children, your brothers and neighbours. [21] Whereas in
fact, if you’re living alone, you should call that peace and freedom, and view
yourself as being like the gods; and if you find yourself in the company of a
mass of people, you should call that not a mob and a source of uproar and
vexation, but rather a feast and a public festival, and so accept everything with
contentment. What is the punishment, then, of those who fail to accept things in
that spirit? To be just as they are. [22] Is someone discontented to find himself
on his own? Then let him be all alone. He is discontented with his parents? Then
let him be a bad son and grieve. He is discontented with his children? Then let
him be a bad father.

[23] ‘Throw him into prison.’

What sort of prison? That in which he already finds himself. For he is there
against his will, and whenever someone is in any place against his will, that is a
prison for him. Just as Socrates* for his part was not in prison because he was
there willingly.

[24] ‘So I had to have a crippled leg, then?’

So because of one miserable leg, slave, you’re going to cast reproaches against
the universe? Aren’t you willing to make a gift of it to the whole? Won’t you
give it up? Won’t you happily surrender it to the one who gave it to you? [25]
And will you be angry and displeased at the ordinances of Zeus, which he has
prescribed and ordained together with the Fates, who attended your birth and
spun the thread of your destiny? [26] Don’t you know how small a part you are
by comparison to the whole? With regard to your body, I mean; for when it
comes to your reason, you’re not inferior to the gods nor do you fall short of
them, because the greatness of reason is measured not by height or length, but by
the quality of its judgements.

[27] Aren’t you willing to place your good, then, in that which renders you equal
to the gods? [28] ‘Oh how miserable I am to have such a father and mother!’
What, was it granted to you to choose your parents in advance and say, ‘May
this man have intercourse with this woman at this hour so that I may come into
this world’? [29] No, that wasn’t granted to you, but your parents had to exist
before you, and then you had to be born in the way that you were. And from
parents of what kind? From parents of such a kind as they were.

[30] What, then, considering that they were such as they were, is no remedy
available to you? Now, if you were ignorant of the purpose for which you
possess the power of sight, you’d be unfortunate and in a bad way if you closed
your eyes when colours were presenting themselves; so when you have nobility
and greatness of mind to enable you to deal with every circumstance, and yet are
ignorant of that, aren’t you even more unfortunate and even worse off? [31]
Things that the faculty in your possession is well fitted to deal with present
themselves to you, and yet you renounce the use of it at the very moment when
you should be keeping it open for use and fully attentive. [32] Shouldn’t you be
giving thanks, rather, to the gods for having enabled you to rise above
everything that they have placed within your power, and having rendered you
accountable only for what is subject to your control? [33] With regard to your
parents, they have discharged you from all accountability; and likewise with
regard to your brothers and sisters, and to your body, and to your property, and
life and death. [34] Well then, what have they made you accountable for? Only
for what lies within your power, the right use of your impressions. [35] Why do
you charge yourself, then, with things for which you’re not accountable? You’re
merely creating trouble for yourself.

1.13 How may everything be done in a way that is pleasing to the

gods?

[1] When someone asked him how one can eat in a manner that is pleasing to the
gods, he replied: If one eats as one ought and politely, and indeed with
temperance and restraint, won’t one also be doing so in a manner that is pleasing
to the gods? [2] And when one has called for hot water and the slave-boy fails to
respond, or if he does, brings it merely lukewarm, or if he isn’t even to be found
in the house, and one doesn’t get angry or lose one’s temper, is that not pleasing
to the gods?

[3] ‘But how can one put up with such people?’

Slave, can’t you put up with your own brother, who has Zeus for his father, and
is, so to speak, born of the same seed as you, and is of the same heavenly
descent? [4] Or because you’ve been stationed in a somewhat more eminent
position, will you set yourself up all at once as a tyrant? Won’t you keep in mind
who you are, and who these people are whom you are ruling over? That they
belong to the same family, that they are by nature brothers of yours, that they are
offspring of Zeus?

[5] ‘But I have right of purchase over them, and they don’t have any such right
over me.’

But don’t you see to where it is that you’re directing your view? That it is to the
earth, to the pit, to these miserable laws of ours, the laws of the dead,* so that
you fail to have any regard for the laws of the gods?

1.14 That the divine watches over all of us

[1] Someone asked him how one might be convinced that everything that one
does is carried out under the eye of God. Don’t you think, he replied, that all
things are bound together in a unity? ‘Indeed I do,’ the man said. [2] Well then,
don’t you think that things here on earth are subject to the influence of those in
the heavens? ‘I do,’ he said.

[3] For how else could it come about with such regularity, as though at God’s
express command, that when he tells the plants to flower, they flower, when he
tells them to bud, they bud, and to bear their fruit, they bear it, and to bring it to
ripeness, they bring it to ripeness, and when again he tells them to strip
themselves and shed their leaves, and drawn in on themselves, remain inactive,
and take their rest, they remain so and take their rest? [4] And how else could it
come about that, in accord with the waxing and waning of the moon, and the
approach and recession of the sun, we observe things on the earth undergoing
such great transformations and changing into their opposites? [5] Now, if plants
and our bodies are so intimately bound up with the whole and subject to its
influence, won’t the same be true of our souls in much higher degree? [6] But if
our souls are closely bound and united to God in this way as portions and
fragments of himself, surely God will be aware of their every movement, as
being a movement of his own that is grounded in his own nature?

[7] Consider, now, you’re able to reflect upon the divine governing order and
every operation of the divine, as well as upon human affairs; and you have the
capacity to be moved by countless things all at once, both in your senses and in
your intelligence, and in such a way as to give your assent to some, and to reject
others, or to suspend judgement; [8] and to preserve in your mind so many
impressions from so many diverse objects, in such a way that when moved by
them, your mind comes to conceive ideas that correspond to the impressions that
were originally made on it, and so from these countless objects, you derive and
preserve the arts, one after another, and also memories.

[9] If you’re capable of all of that, can it be that God isn’t capable of overseeing
all things, and of being present throughout, and having some communication
with all that is? [10] When the sun is able to illuminate so large a part of the
universe, leaving unlit only that very small part that is covered by the shadow of
the earth,* can it really be the case that he who created the sun—which is only a
small part of him by comparison with the whole—and directs it on its way, could
lack the power to perceive all that exists?

[11] ‘But for my part,’ someone says, ‘I’m not capable of following all these
things at one time.’

Why, did anyone ever tell you that you have powers to rival those of Zeus? [12]
But all the same, he has assigned to each of us, as an overseer, his own personal
guardian spirit, and has entrusted each of us to its protection, as a guardian that
never sleeps and is never open to deception. [13] To what other guardian could
he have entrusted us that would have been better and more vigilant than this?
And so, when you close your doors and create darkness within, remember never
to say that you’re on your own, [14] for in fact, you’re not alone, because God is
within you, and your guardian spirit too. And what need do they have of light to
see what you’re doing?

[15] To this god you too should swear allegiance, as soldiers do to Caesar. For
they, on receiving their wages, swear to put the safety of Caesar above all else;
so will you, who have been judged worthy of so many gifts of such a valuable
nature, be unwilling to swear your oath, and having sworn it, hold true to it? [16]
And what is it that you must swear? Never to disobey, never to find fault with,
never to complain about, anything that has been granted to you by God, and
never be unwilling to do what you have to do, or to undergo what you’re bound
to undergo. [17] Now is the one oath truly comparable to the other? The soldiers
swear never to hold anyone in higher honour than Caesar, whereas we for our
part swear to hold ourselves in higher honour than all else.

1.15 What does philosophy promise?

[1] When someone consulted Epictetus about how he could persuade his brother
to stop being ill-disposed towards him, he said: [2] Philosophy doesn’t promise
to secure any external good for man, since it would then be embarking on
something that lies outside its proper subject matter. For just as wood is the
material of the carpenter, and bronze that of the sculptor, the art of living has
each individual’s own life as its material.

[3] ‘What about my brother’s life, then?’

That again is the material for his own art of living, but with regard to yours, it
belongs among external things, like the owning of land, like health, like good
reputation. Now, philosophy promises none of these things, [4] but says instead,
‘In every circumstance I’ll keep the ruling centre in accordance with nature.’—
Whose ruling centre?—‘That of the individual in whom I am.’

[5] ‘But how, in that case, am I to prevent my brother from being angry with
me?’

Bring him to me and I’ll tell him, but I have nothing to say to you about his
anger.

[6] When the man who was seeking his advice then said, ‘What I’d like to know
is how, even if my brother is unwilling to be reconciled with me, I may remain
in accordance with nature,’ Epictetus replied: [7] Nothing great comes into being
all at once, for that is not the case even with a bunch of grapes or a fig. If you tell
me now, ‘I want a fig,’ I’ll reply, ‘That takes time.’ Let the fig tree first come
into blossom and then bring forth its fruit, and then let the fruit grow to ripeness.
[8] So if even the fruit of a fig tree doesn’t come to maturity all at once and in a
single hour, would you seek to gather the fruit of a human mind in such a short
time and with such ease? Even if I were to promise you that myself, it is more
than you can expect.

1.16 On providence

[1] Don’t be surprised that the other animals have all that is required for their
bodily needs provided for them, not only their food and drink but also beds to lie
on, and that they have no need of shoes, or clothes, or bedding, while we have
need of all those things. [2] For since those creatures don’t exist for their own
sake, but to be of service, it would have brought no advantage to have created
them with those additional needs. [3] Just think what it would mean for us to
have to worry not only about our own needs, but about those of our sheep and
donkeys too, and to think how they are to be provided with clothes and shoes,
and with food and drink! [4] But as with soldiers who report to their generals
ready for service, already equipped with shoes, clothes, and armour—for it
would be a sorry state of affairs if the commander had to go around seeing to the
clothes and shoes of all the troops of his regiment—so nature likewise has
created the animals, which are born for service, ready prepared and ready
equipped, so that they require no further care. [5] So accordingly, one small boy
with nothing more than a stick can drive a flock of sheep.

[6] But as it is, instead of giving thanks for this order of things, which saves us
from having to take as much care of our animals as we do of ourselves, we go so
far as to complain to God about our own lot! [7] And yet, by Zeus and all the
gods, a single one of these blessings of nature would suffice to make anyone
recognize that there is a divine providence, if he were duly reverent and grateful.
[8] And I’m not thinking for the moment of anything grand, but the mere fact
that milk is produced from grass, and cheese from milk, and wool from an
animal’s hide; who brought these things to be, who conceived the idea of them?
‘No one,’ someone says. Oh what amazing imperceptiveness, what impudence!

[9] Well now, let’s put aside the main works of nature, and consider those of a
more incidental character. [10] Could anything be more useless than the hairs on
one’s chin? And yet, hasn’t nature put these, too, to the most appropriate use that
she could? Hasn’t she distinguished the male from the female by this means?
[11] With regard to each of us, doesn’t nature cry out aloud from afar, ‘I’m a
man, and it’s with that in mind that you should approach me—no need to
enquire any further, the signs are plain to see.’ [12] And again, in the case of
women, just as nature has mixed a gentler note into their voices, she has likewise
deprived them of facial hair. Oh no, the human animal should rather have been
left without any distinguishing signs, so that each of us would have had to
proclaim, ‘I’m a man!’ [13] But what a fine sign this is, how fitting and how
distinguished! How much finer than a cock’s comb, and more majestic than a
lion’s mane! [14] It is thus only right to preserve the signs that have been
conferred on us by God; we should neither cast them aside nor, so far as
possible, confuse the sexes that he has distinguished.

[15] Are these the only works of providence from which we benefit? No, what
words could be enough to praise or proclaim them as they deserve! For if we had
any sense, what else should we do, both in public and in private, than sing
hymns and praise the deity, and recount all the favours that he has conferred!
[16] As we dig and plough and sow, oughtn’t we to sing this hymn of praise to
God: [17] ‘Great is God, for having provided us with these implements with
which we till the earth; great is God for having given us hands, and the power to
swallow, and a stomach, and enabling us to grow without being conscious of it,
and to breathe while we’re asleep.’ [18] This is what we should sing on every
occasion, and also the most solemn and divine hymn to thank God for having
given us the power to understand these things, and to make methodical use of
them.

[19] Well then, since most of you have become blind, isn’t it necessary that there
should be somebody to take your place, and sing the hymn of praise to God on
behalf of one and all? [20] And what else can I do, lame old man that I am, than
sing the praise of God? If I were a nightingale, I would perform the work of a
nightingale, and if I were a swan, that of a swan. But as it is, I am a rational
being, and I must sing the praise of God. [21] This is my work, and I accomplish
it, and I will never abandon my post for as long as it is granted to me to remain
in it; and I invite all of you to join me in this same song.

1.17 That logic is indispensable

[1] Since it is reason that analyses and elucidates everything else, and reason
itself shouldn’t remain unanalysed, by what means can it be analysed? [2]
Evidently either by reason or by something else. Now the latter must surely be a
form of reason, or else be something superior to reason, which is impossible. [3]
If it is a form of reason, who again will analyse that? For if it is to analyse itself,
the first form of reason could achieve that equally well. If we have to take
recourse to another form of reason at each stage, the process will be endless and
never come to a stop.

[4] ‘Very well, but to take care of our soul is a more urgent necessity,’ and other
similar objections.

So you want to hear something about that? Then attend. [5] Suppose you said to
me, ‘I don’t know whether your argument is true or false,’ and when I made use
of some ambiguous term, you said, ‘Draw the distinction,’ I would lose patience
with you and reply, ‘But there is a more urgent need.’ [6] That is the reason, I
fancy, why philosophers begin with logic,* just as, when measuring grain, one
begins by examining the measure. [7] For unless we start off by establishing
what a unit of measurement is, and what a balance is, how shall we ever be able
to weigh or measure anything? [8] So also in the present case, if we have failed
to acquire full and accurate knowledge of the standard of judgement that we
apply in gaining a knowledge of everything else, how are we to be able to
acquire any full and accurate knowledge of those things? How could that be
possible?

[9] ‘Yes, but the measuring bowl is just a piece of wood and is barren.’

But it serves for the measuring of grain.

[10] ‘And logic, too, is barren.’

We’ll see about that later. Even if one should grant that, however, it is enough
that it should give us the power to distinguish and examine all other things, and,
so to speak, measure and weigh them. [11] Now who says that? Is it only
Chrysippus, Zeno, and Cleanthes?* [12] Doesn’t Antisthenes* say so too? And
who was it that wrote, ‘The beginning of education is the examination of terms’?
Wasn’t it Socrates* who said that? And who is Xenophon writing about when he
says that he began with the investigation of terms, seeking out the meaning of
each?

[13] Is this what is important, then, and admirable: to be able to understand

Chrysippus and interpret him? Who says that it is? [14] So what is in fact
admirable? To understand the will of nature. What, then, are you able to
understand that by yourself? If so, what need do you have of anyone else? For if
it is true that all who do wrong do so against their will,* and you for your part
have come to know the truth, it necessarily follows that you must already be
acting rightly.

[15] ‘No, by Zeus, I don’t understand the will of nature.’

Who can interpret it, then? Chrysippus, so it is said. [16] I go to him to find out
what this interpreter of nature has to say. To begin with, I don’t understand the
meaning of his words, and look for someone who can interpret him. ‘Come,
consider what this means, just as if it were in Latin.’* [17] Is there anything here
to justify the interpreter in feeling proud of himself? Nor does Chrysippus have
just reason to be proud if he confines himself to interpreting the will of nature
and doesn’t follow it himself. [18] For we don’t need Chrysippus for his own
sake, but only to enable us to understand nature, just as we don’t need a diviner
for his own sake, but because we expect to be able to understand the future
through him, and the meaning of the signs sent by the gods; [19] nor do we need
the entrails of the sacrificial victim for their own sake, but because of the signs
that are transmitted through them, nor do we attach any value to the crow or
raven itself, but to the god who sends omens through the bird.

[20] I thus approach the interpreter and diviner, and say, ‘Examine the entrails*
for me, and tell me what signs they provide for me.’ [21] The man takes the
entrails, spreads them out, and interprets them as follows: ‘You have a power of
choice, man, which is secure by nature from hindrance and compulsion. That is
written here in the entrails. [22] I’ll demonstrate that to you first of all in the
sphere of assent. Can anyone prevent you from assenting to the truth? No one at
all. Can anyone constrain you to accept what is false? No one at all. [23] Do you
see that, in this area, you have a power of choice that is immune from hindrance,
constraint, and obstruction? [24] Well then, are things any different in the sphere
of desire and motivation? What can overpower a motive except another motive,
and that alone? And what can overpower a desire or aversion except another
desire or aversion?’

[25] ‘But what if someone threatens me with death,’ someone says, ‘for he is
constraining me then.’

No, it isn’t what you’re threatened with that compels you, but your own
judgement that it is better to do this or that than to die. [26] So once again, it is
your judgement that has constrained you, or in other words, your choice has
constrained itself. [27] For if God had so created that portion of his being that he
has detached from himself and given to us that it would be subject to hindrance
or compulsion, whether from himself or from another, he would no longer be
God, nor would he be taking care of us as he ought. [28] ‘This is what I find in
the sacrifice,’ says the diviner, ‘these are the signs that have been sent to you. If
you wish it, you are free; if you wish it, you’ll find fault with no one, you’ll cast
blame on no one, and everything that comes about will do so in accordance with
your own will and that of God.’

[29] It is for this prophecy that I go to the diviner and philosopher, and I don’t
admire him because of the interpretation that he offers, but rather because of the
very truths that are revealed in that interpretation.

1.18 That we should not be angry with those who do wrong

[1] If it is true, as the philosophers say, that it is for one and the same reason that
all people give their assent, namely, because they feel that something is the case,
or refuse their assent, namely, because they feel that something is not the case,
or, by Zeus, that they suspend judgement, because they feel that the matter is
uncertain, [2] and so also, regarding motivation towards something, because I
feel that it conduces to my advantage, and that it is impossible to judge one thing
to be advantageous and yet desire another—if all of this is in fact true, why is it
that we’re still angry with so many people?

[3] ‘They’re thieves’, someone says, ‘and robbers.’

What does that mean, thieves and robbers? That they’ve fallen into error with
regard to what is good and bad. Should we be angry with them, then, or merely
feel pity for them? [4] Just show them where they’ve gone wrong, and you’ll see
how they desist from their faults; but if they fail to see it, they have nothing
better to depend upon than their own personal opinion.

[5] ‘So this thief here and this adulterer shouldn’t be put to death?’ Not at all, but
what you should be asking instead is this: [6] ‘This man who has fallen into error
and is mistaken about the most important matters, and thus has gone blind, not
with regard to the eyesight that distinguishes white from black, but with regard
to the judgement that distinguishes good from bad—should someone like this be
put to death?’ [7] If you put the question in that way, you’ll recognize the
inhumanity of the thought that you’re expressing, and see that it is equivalent to
saying, ‘Should this blind man, then, or that deaf one, be put to death?’ [8] For if
the greatest harm that a person can suffer is the loss of the most valuable goods,
and the most valuable thing that anyone can possess is correct choice, then if
someone is deprived of that, what reason is left for you to be angry with him? [9]
Why, man, if in an unnatural fashion you really must harbour feelings with
regard to another person’s misfortunes, you ought to pity him rather than hate*
him. Put aside this inclination to take offence and give vent to hatred; [10] who
are you, man, to make use of these expressions that are favoured by the mob
—‘Away with these accursed wretches!’ [11] Very well, but how is it that
you’ve suddenly become converted to wisdom, and are now in a position to be
severe towards other people?

Why, then, are we angry? Because we attach value to the things that these people
steal from us. Well, stop attaching such value to your clothes, and you won’t be
angry with the man who steals them. Don’t attach value to the beauty of your
wife and you won’t be angry with the adulterer. [12] Recognize that a thief and
adulterer belong not among the things that are your own, but only among those
that are someone else’s and aren’t within your power. If you give these things up
and count them as nothing, with whom can you still feel angry? But as long as
you attach value to these things, you should be angry with yourself rather than
with those people. [13] For consider this, you have fine clothes and your
neighbour doesn’t, you have a window and want to air them. Your neighbour
doesn’t know where our human good truly lies, but supposes that it lies in
having fine clothing, which is exactly what you think too. [14] Won’t he come
along, then, and steal those clothes? Why, if you display a cake to gluttons and
then gobble it down all for yourself, aren’t you just asking them to snatch it
away from you? Don’t provoke them, don’t have a window, don’t air your
clothes.

[15] Something like that happened to me the other day. I had an iron lamp* in
front of my household gods, and hearing a noise in front of my window, I rushed
down, only to find that the lamp had been stolen. I thought to myself that the
thief had been driven by a quite persuasive motive. So what of it? Tomorrow, I
told myself, you’ll find an earthenware lamp. [16] After all, one can only lose
what one has. ‘I’ve lost my cloak.’ Yes, because you had a cloak. ‘I’ve got a
pain in my head.’ Well, you don’t have a pain in your horns, do you? Why are
you annoyed, then? For our losses and our pains only affect things that are in our
possession.
[17] ‘But the tyrant will chain …’ What? Your legs. ‘But he’ll cut off …’ What?
Your head. What is he incapable, then, of chaining up or cutting off? Your
power of choice. It was for that reason that the ancients urged us to follow this
precept: Know yourself. [18] So what follows? That we should practise, by
heaven, with little things, and after beginning with those, pass on to greater
things. [19] ‘I’ve got a headache.’ Don’t give expression to grief. ‘I’ve got an
earache.’ Don’t give expression to grief. And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t
groan at such things, but that you shouldn’t groan in your inmost self. And if
your slave is slow in bringing you the bandage, don’t cry out and pull a face and
exclaim, ‘Everyone hates me!’ For in truth, who wouldn’t hate such a person?
[20] From now on, placing your faith in these principles, you should proceed on
your way upright and free, not trusting in the strength of your body like an
athlete; for you’re not meant to be invincible in the way that a donkey is.

[21] Who, then, is the invincible human being? One who can be disconcerted by
nothing that lies outside the sphere of choice. I will go on, then, to consider the
various circumstances in turn, as one would do in the case of an athlete: ‘This
man has carried off the victory in the first bout; so what about the second? [22]
How will he do if it is baking hot? How will he do at Olympia?’ So likewise in
the present case. If you offer him a bit of money, he’ll view it with contempt.
But what if it is a nice young girl? And if it is in the dark? And what if it is a
touch of glory? What if it is a dose of abuse? Or some praise, what then? Or if it
is death, what then? He is capable of overcoming all these things. [23] What,
then, if it is baking hot, or in other words, if he is drunk? What if he is feeling
depressed, what if he is asleep? Now that is what I really mean by an invincible
athlete.

1.19 How should we behave towards tyrants?

[1] If someone is superior in some respect, or at least fancies that he is when that
isn’t in fact the case, it is altogether inevitable that, if he is uneducated, he’ll
become puffed up with pride because of it. [2] A tyrant, for instance, thus
exclaims, ‘I’m the most powerful man in the world!’ Well then, what can you
offer me? Can you ensure that my desire will never be impeded? How could
you? For can you achieve that for yourself? Can you ensure that my aversion
never falls into what it wants to avoid? Why, can you achieve that for yourself?
Or that my motive should never fail to be satisfied? [3] And how could you
claim to do that? Come now, when you’re on board a ship, do you place
confidence in yourself or in the man who has expert knowledge? Or when
you’re in a chariot, do you place trust in yourself or in the man who knows how
to drive it? [4] And likewise with regard to the other arts? Just the same. How
far does your power extend, then?

‘Everyone pays me every attention.’

Yes, and I attend to my little plate, washing it and drying it off, and I knock a
peg into the wall for the sake of my oil flask. What are we to conclude from
that? That these things are superior to me? No, rather that they’re of some use to
me. That’s why I attend to them. And again, don’t I attend to my donkey? [5]
Don’t I wash his feet and clean him down? Don’t you know that everyone
attends to himself, and to you too, as he does to his donkey? For in truth, who
pays attention to you as a man? Please point him out. [6] Who wants to resemble
you; who wants to emulate you as people sought to emulate Socrates?

‘But I can have you beheaded.’

Well said! I’d forgotten that one needs to attend to you as one attends to a fever
or the cholera; one should doubtless set up an altar to you, just as Fever* has his
altar at Rome.

[7] What is it, then, that disturbs and frightens the majority of people? The tyrant
or his guards? How so? In no way at all. It is impossible that that which is by
nature free should be disturbed or impeded by anything other than itself. [8] No
indeed, it is our own judgements that disturb us. For when the tyrant says to
someone, ‘I’ll have your leg shackled,’ one who attaches value to his legs will
reply, ‘No, have pity on me,’ while one who attaches value, by contrast, to his
choice will say, ‘If you think that will do you any good, chain it up.’—‘You
don’t care?’—Not in the least.—‘I’ll show you that I’m master.’ [9] —How will
you do that? Zeus has set me free. Do you really suppose that he would allow his
own son to be turned into a slave? You’re master of my carcase, take that. [10]
—‘So you mean to say that, when you enter my presence, you’ll pay no attention
to me?’—No, but rather to myself. But if you want me to say that I’ll attend to
you too, I’ll reply that I’ll do so in the same way as I do to my cooking pot.

[11] This isn’t a matter of mere self-regard, because it lies in the nature of every
living creature that it does everything for its own sake. Why, even the sun does
everything for its own sake,* and so indeed does Zeus himself. [12] But when
Zeus wishes to be the Rain-giver and Fruit-bringer* and father of gods and men,
you can see that he can’t achieve such things or earn such titles unless he
contributes to the common benefit. [13] And in general, he has constituted the
rational animal to have such a nature that he cannot attain any of his own
particular goods without contributing to the common benefit. [14] And so in the
end it isn’t antisocial to do everything for one’s own sake. [15] After all, what do
you expect? That one should show no concern for oneself and one’s benefit?
How, in that case, could all living creatures have one and the same principle of
action, namely attachment to themselves?

[16] What follows, then? When people come to hold absurd opinions about
things that lie outside the sphere of choice, taking them to be good or bad, it is
altogether inevitable that they’ll end up paying court to tyrants. [17] And if only
it were the tyrants alone, and not their flunkeys too! How is it that someone
becomes wise all of a sudden when Caesar appoints him to take care of his
chamber pot? How is it that we at once find ourselves saying, ‘Felicio* made
such wise remarks to me’? [18] How I’d like to see him pushed off his dunghill
so that you’d come to regard him as a fool again! [19] Epaphroditus owned a
slave who was a cobbler, but sold him because he was utterly useless; and then,
as chance would have it, he was bought by a member of Caesar’s household, and
became Caesar’s shoemaker. You should have seen what respect Epaphroditus
showed to him then! [20] ‘How are things with you, my good Felicio, tell me
do.’ [21] And then if someone asked us, ‘What is your master doing?’, he would
be told, ‘He’s consulting with Felicio about some matter.’ [22] But all the same,
hadn’t he sold him as being utterly useless? [23] So what had turned him into a
wise man all of a sudden? This is what it means to value anything other than
what lies within the sphere of our choice.

[24] ‘He’s been honoured with a tribune’s* post.’ Everyone who meets him
offers his congratulations; one kisses him on the eyes, another on the neck, while
his slaves kiss his hands. He arrives home to find lamps being lit. [25] He climbs
up the Capitol and offers a sacrifice. Yet who has ever offered up a sacrifice
because his desires are rightly directed? Or because his motives are in accord
with nature? For we offer up thanks to the gods for those things in which we
place our good.

[26] Someone was talking to me today about the priesthood of Augustus.*

‘Leave that well alone, my friend,’ I told him; ‘you’ll be incurring no end of
expense to no purpose.’ [27] —‘But when contracts are drawn up, they’ll be
inscribed with my name.’—Do you suppose, then, that you’ll be present when
people read those contracts so as to be able to say, ‘That’s my name written
there’? [28] And even if it would be possible for you to be present on every
occasion now, what will you do when you come to die?—‘My name will
remain.’—Carve it onto a stone and it will remain just as well. Come now, who
will remember you outside Nicopolis? [29] —‘But I’ll wear a crown of gold.’—
If you wish to wear a crown at all, take a crown of roses and put that on your
head; you’d look much more elegant in that.

1.20 How reason is able to examine itself

[1] Every art and faculty makes certain things its special objects of examination.
[2] When that art or faculty is of the same nature as what it examines, it will
necessarily be capable of taking itself as an object of examination, but when it is
of a different nature, it won’t be capable of doing so. [3] The art of leather-
working, for instance, concerns itself with hides, but the art itself is altogether
different from its material, the hides, and for that reason can’t take itself as an
object of examination. [4] Or again, the art of grammar concerns itself with the
written word, but that doesn’t mean, does it, that the art itself is written speech?
Not at all. For that reason, it can’t take itself as an object of examination. [5]
Well then, why is it that we have received reason from nature? To be able to
make use of impressions as we ought. And what is reason itself? A collection of
impressions of various kinds. It is accordingly fitted by nature to take itself as an
object of examination. [6] And wisdom, in turn, has been granted to us for the
examination of what? Of what is good, and what is bad, and what is neither the
one nor the other. What is wisdom itself, then? A good thing. And foolishness?
A bad thing. You can thus see that wisdom can necessarily take itself, and
likewise its opposite, as an object of examination.

[7] For that reason, the most important task of a philosopher, and his first task, is
to test out impressions and distinguish between them, and not to accept any
impression unless it has been duly tested. [8] When it comes to coinage, where
we think our interests are affected, you see how we have devised an art, and
what procedures the assayer applies to test out the coinage, through sight, touch,
and finally hearing; [9] when he throws the denarius down and listens to hear
how it rings, he isn’t satisfied to hear that only once, but by attending to the
sound repeatedly, develops a musician’s ear. [10] And so likewise, in matters
where we think it makes a notable difference whether or not we go astray, we
apply considerable attention to judging things that are liable to lead us astray;
[11] but when it comes to this poor ruling centre of ours, we yawn and slumber,
and accept any impression that comes along. For it doesn’t occur to us that we’ll
suffer any damage as a result.

[12] So if you want to know how little concerned you are about what is good and
bad, and how seriously you take things that are indifferent, consider what
attitude you hold towards physical blindness on the one hand and error of mind
on the other; and you’ll recognize that you’re far from having the feelings that
you ought to have with regard to matters of good and evil.

[13] ‘Yes, but that requires long preparation, and no end of effort and study.’

What of that? Do you really expect to master the most important of the arts with
little effort? [14] All the same, what is most essential in the teaching of the
philosophers can be stated very briefly. If you want to know, read Zeno’s works,
and you’ll see. [15] For does it in fact take long to say that ‘our end lies in
following the gods, and the essence of the good in the correct use of
impressions’? [16] If you ask, ‘What, then, is God, and what is an impression?
And what is nature in the individual and nature in the universe?’, the discussion
is already beginning to drag out. [17] If Epicurus should come along and say that
the good must lie in our flesh, it again grows long, and you need to learn what
the principal part of us is, and what our substantial nature is and our essential
nature. Since it is hardly probable that the good of a snail should lie in its shell,
is that probable, then, in the case of a human being? [18] What do you yourself
possess that is superior to that, Epicurus? What is there within you that
deliberates, that examines everything, and that decides with regard to the flesh
itself that it is our principal part? [19] And why do you light your lamp and toil
away on our behalf, writing so many books? Is it so that we may not be ignorant
of the truth? Who are we? And what are we to you? And so the argument
becomes a lengthy one.

1.21 To those who want to be admired

[1] When someone has taken up the position that he ought to hold in life, he
doesn’t hanker after anything beyond it. [2] What is it that you would wish to
have happen to you, man? For my part, I’m satisfied if I exercise my desires and
aversions in accordance with nature, and apply my motives to act and not to act
as my nature requires, and likewise my purposes, designs, and acts of assent. So
why are you walking around in front of us as though you’d swallowed a spit? [3]
‘What I’ve always wanted is to be admired by those who meet me, and that
they’ll follow me exclaiming, “What a great philosopher!”’ [4] Who are they,
these people whose admiration you want to win? Aren’t they the very people
whom you’re in the habit of describing as mad?* What, do you want to be
admired by madmen?

1.22 On preconceptions

[1] Preconceptions are common to all people, and one preconception doesn’t
contradict another. For who among us doesn’t assume that the good is beneficial
and desirable, and that we should seek and pursue it in every circumstance? And
who among us doesn’t assume that what is just is honourable and appropriate?
When does contradiction arise, then? [2] It comes about when we apply our
preconceptions to particular cases, [3] as when one person says, ‘He acted well,
he’s a brave man,’ while another says, ‘No, he’s out of his mind.’ That is how
people come to fall into disagreement. [4] Hence the Jews, Syrians, Egyptians,
and Romans hold conflicting views, not about whether holiness should be
valued above all else and pursued in all circumstances, but whether the specific
action of eating pork is holy or unholy. [5] You’ll find that the quarrel between
Agamemnon and Achilles also arose* in that way. Let them be summoned to
appear in front of us:

‘What do you say, Agamemnon, shouldn’t one do what is right and proper?’

‘Indeed one should.’

[6] ‘And what do you say, Achilles, don’t you agree that one should do what is
right and proper?’

‘Of course, I’d agree absolutely.’

So now apply these preconceptions to the particular cases. [7] It is there that the
contradiction arises. One says, ‘I need not return Chryseis to her father,’ while
the other says, ‘Oh yes, you ought to.’ One or the other of them is assuredly
making a bad application of the preconception of what one ought to do. [8] And
again, one of them says, ‘Very well, if I ought to hand over Chryseis, I ought to
get someone else’s prize of war,’ to which the other man replies, ‘So you want to
take away this woman of mine whom I love?’ ‘Yes, that woman of yours,’ he
says, ‘or am I to be the only one who has nothing?’ ‘Then shall I for my part be
the only one who has nothing?’ And so a conflict arises.

[9] What does it mean, then, to become properly educated? It is to learn to apply
our natural preconceptions to particular cases in accord with nature; and further,
to draw the distinction that some things lie within our power while others do not;
[10] within our power lie moral choice and all actions that depend on that
choice, whereas our body and every part of it are not in our power, and likewise
our possessions, parents, brothers and sisters, children, country, and, in short,
everyone with whom we associate. [11] Where, then, are we to place our good?
To what kind of reality are we to apply that name? To what lies within our
power.

[12] ‘Then isn’t health a good thing, and having an unimpaired body, and life?
No, and not even our children, parents, and country? And who could accept that
from you?’

[13] Well, let’s transfer the designation of good to those things. Is it possible, in
that case, to be happy if one suffers injury and fails to acquire good things?

‘No, it’s not possible.’

And to live as we ought with those with whom we associate? And how is that
possible? For I’m moved by nature to look to my own benefit. [14] If it is to my
benefit to have a piece of land, it is also to my benefit to take it from my
neighbour. If it is to my benefit to have a cloak, it is also to my benefit to steal
one at the baths. Hence the origin of wars, revolts, tyrannies, and plots. [15] And
how, moreover, shall I still be able to accomplish my duties towards Zeus? For if
I suffer injury and misfortune, he pays no attention to me. And people say,
‘What business do I have with him if he can do nothing to help me?’, or again,
‘What business do I have with him if he wishes me to be in the difficulties in
which I find myself?’ In the end, I begin to hate him. [16] Why, then, do we
build temples, why do we raise statues, as though in honour of evil spirits, and in
honour of Zeus as god of fever? How in that case can he still be the Saviour, the
Rain-bringer, the Fruit-giver? Yes, in truth, if we place the essence of the good
somewhere here, all these conclusions necessarily follow.

[17] So what are we to do? This is the object of enquiry for someone who is
truly a philosopher and whose mind is pregnant with thoughts. ‘At present,’ he
says, ‘I can’t see what’s good and what’s bad, so surely I’m mad?’ [18] Yes, but
what if I place the good somewhere here, among things that lie within the sphere
of choice? Everyone will laugh at me. Some white-haired old man, with many
rings on his fingers, will come along and shake his head, and say to me, ‘Listen
to me, child, yes, one ought to practise philosophy, but one should also keep
one’s head. This is sheer stupidity. [19] It’s all very well for you to learn
syllogisms from the philosophers, but when it comes to how you should act in
life, you know that far better than they do.’ [20] Then why are you finding fault
with me, man, if I know that? What am I to say to this slave? If I keep silent, he
loses his temper. [21] So I can only reply, ‘You must forgive me as one forgives
lovers; I’ve lost control of myself, I’m out of my mind!’

1.23 Against Epicurus

[1] Even Epicurus recognizes that we’re social beings by nature, but once he has
placed our good in our bodily shell, he is no longer in a position to say anything
that conflicts with that. [2] For he maintains forcefully, besides, that we should
neither admire nor accept anything that is cut off from the nature of the good,
and rightly so.

[3] How can we still be social beings, then, if we have no natural affection for
our offspring? And why is it, Epicurus, that you seek to dissuade the wise person
from rearing children? Why are you afraid that he’ll suffer distress as a
consequence? [4] What does it matter to him, then, if a little mouse cries out in
his house? [5] No, Epicurus was well aware that as soon as one has a small child,
it’s no longer in our power not to love it and take care of it. [6] For the same
reason, he says, anyone who has any sense won’t engage in public affairs either,
because he knows what a man in public life has to do. And in truth, if you want
to live among human beings as though among flies, who is to prevent you? [7]
Yet even though he is well aware of this, he has the audacity to say that ‘we
shouldn’t rear children’. But when a sheep doesn’t abandon its own offspring,
and neither does a wolf, will a human being abandon his? What do you want?
That we should be as stupid as sheep? [8] And yet they don’t abandon their
young. As savage as wolves? And yet they don’t abandon their young. [9] Come,
who could be persuaded by what you say when he sees his little child in tears
after having fallen to the ground? [10] For my part, I think that even if your
mother and father could have foreseen that you would say such things, they
wouldn’t have exposed* you!

1.24 How should we contend with difficulties?

[1] It is difficulties that reveal what men amount to; and so, whenever you’re
struck by a difficulty, remember that God, like a trainer in the gymnasium, has
matched you against a tough young opponent.

[2] ‘For what purpose?’, someone asks.

So that you may become an Olympic victor; and that is something that can’t be
achieved without sweat. It seems to me that no one has had a difficulty that gives
a better opportunity than the one you now have, if only you’re willing to tackle it
as an athlete tackles his young adversary. [3] We’re now sending you off to
Rome as a spy, and no one sends a coward on such a mission, someone who, if
he hears the slightest rustle and sees a patch of shadow somewhere, will come
rushing back in a panic to warn us that the enemy is already at hand. [4] So too
in the present case, if you should come back to us and say, ‘The situation at
Rome is desperate, death is a terrible thing, banishment is terrible, abuse is
terrible, poverty is terrible—take to your heels, everyone, the enemy is at hand!’,
[5] we’ll reply, ‘Be off with you, and address your prophecies to your own ears
alone. Our one mistake was to send out someone like you to spy out the ground.’

[6] Diogenes, who was sent out before you as a spy, has brought entirely
different news. He says that ‘Death is no evil, since there is nothing
dishonourable in it.’ He says that ‘Bad reputation is an empty noise made by
madmen.’ [7] And what reports this spy has brought to us about pain and
pleasure and poverty! ‘Nakedness’, he says, ‘is preferable to any purple robe,
and it is better to sleep on the bare ground than on the softest of couches.’ [8]
And as proof of his various claims, he offers his own courage, his
imperturbability, his freedom, and, moreover, his gleaming robust body. [9] ‘No
enemy close at hand,’ he says; ‘peace prevails everywhere.’ How can that be,
Diogenes? ‘Just look at me,’ he replies; ‘have I been hit, am I wounded, have I
fled from anyone?’ [10] That is what a true spy should be, but as for you, you
come back and tell us all kinds of nonsense. Won’t you go away again and
observe more accurately, without giving way to cowardice?

[11] ‘What should I do, then?’ What do you do when you step ashore from a
boat? You don’t walk off with the rudder, do you, or the oars? So what do you
take? What belongs to you, your oil flask, your knapsack.* So, too, in the
present case, if you remain mindful of what is your own, you won’t ever lay
claim to what belongs to another. [12] He tells you, ‘Take off that senator’s
robe.’ Look, an equestrian robe. ‘Take off that as well.’ Look, a plain toga.*
‘That too.’ Look, I’m naked. [13] ‘But you still make me feel envious.’ Then
take my whole miserable body. If I can toss my body to this man, what further
reason do I have to be afraid of him?

[14] ‘But So-and-so won’t make me his heir.’

What of it? Have I forgotten that none of these things is my own? In what sense,
then, can we call them our own? In the sense that we say that of our bed in an
inn. If the innkeeper leaves you the beds when he dies, well and good; but if he
leaves them to someone else, they’ll belong to him, and you’ll have to look for
another. [15] And if you can’t find a bed, you’ll end up sleeping on the ground;
only, be of good heart and snore away, remembering that it is among the
wealthy, among kings and tyrants, that tragedies play out, and that no one who is
poor has any role in a tragedy except as a member of the chorus. [16] The kings
begin in prosperity—‘Hang the palace with garlands’—but then, in around the
third or fourth act, ‘Alas Cithaeron, why did you receive me?’* [17] Slave,
where are your crowns, where is your diadem? Are your guards of no use to
you? [18] So henceforth, when you approach any of these great men, keep this in
mind, that you’re meeting a figure from tragedy, and no mere actor either, but
Oedipus in person.

[19] ‘But So-and-so is blessed by fortune, to walk around with such a large
retinue.’

Yes, and I too only have to mingle with the crowd to find myself walking around
with a large retinue.

[20] But this is the essential point: remember that the door stands open.* Don’t
be more cowardly than a young child, but just as children say, ‘I won’t play any
longer’ when the game no longer amuses them, you should say likewise, when
things seem that way to you, ‘I won’t play any longer’, and so depart; but if you
stay, stop moaning.

1.25 On the same theme

[1] If all of this is true, and we’re not merely being silly and putting on an act
when we say that the good of man, and likewise his ill, lies in how he exercises
his choice, while everything else is nothing to us, why do we still allow
ourselves to be troubled or afraid? [2] No one else has any power over the things
that really matter to us; so what is left for us to worry about?

[3] ‘Give me some specific instructions.’

But what instructions should I give you? Has Zeus failed to provide you with
any? Hasn’t he granted to you that what is your own should be free from
hindrance and restraint, while that which is not your own should be subject to
hindrance and restraint? [4] And with what orders did you come from that other
world into this, with what commands? You should guard what is your own by
every means, but shouldn’t desire what is another’s. Your good faith is your
own, your self-respect is your own; for who can take those away from you? Who
apart from yourself can prevent you from making use of them? But for your own
part, how do you behave? Whenever you devote your attention to what is not
your own, you lose what is truly your own. [5] Since you have already received
such orders and instructions from Zeus, what is it that you still want from me?
Am I better than he, or more trustworthy? [6] And if you follow those orders of
his, do you have need of any more? Bring out your preconceptions, bring forth
the demonstrations of the philosophers, bring out what you’ve often heard, or
what you yourself have said, bring out what you’ve read, and what you’ve
studied and reflected upon.

[7] How long, then, should we hold to these rules and not break up the game? [8]
As long as the game is going nicely. At the Saturnalia* a king is selected by lot
(for they have decided to play that game). He orders, ‘You there, drink, you mix
the wine, you sing, you go, you come.’ I obey, so as not to be the one who spoils
the game. [9] ‘But as for you, suppose that you’re in the grip of misfortune.’
That I don’t accept; for who can compel me to suppose such a thing?

[10] Or again, we have agreed to act out the story of Agamemnon and Achilles.
The man who has been chosen to play Agamemnon tells me, ‘Go to Achilles and
take Briseis* away from him.’ [11] I go. He says, ‘Come,’ and I come. For in
point of fact, just as we proceed with regard to hypothetical arguments, so we
should proceed in life too. [12] ‘Let’s suppose that it’s night.’ All right. ‘Very
well then, is it day?’ No, because I’ve accepted the assumption that it’s night.
‘Let’s accept, then, that you’re thinking it is night.’ All right. ‘Not only that, but
think that it really is night.’ [13] But that doesn’t follow from the hypothesis. So
likewise with regard to life. ‘Let’s suppose that you’re unhappy.’ All right.
‘You’re in a bad way, then?’ Yes. ‘So you’re in misfortune?’ Yes. ‘But now
make the further assumption that you really are in a bad way.’ That doesn’t
follow from the hypothesis; and there is, moreover, another* who prevents me
from believing that.

[14] How long, then, should we obey such rules of conduct? As long as it
continues to be profitable, that is to say, as long as I can preserve what is fitting
and appropriate. [15] Some people are cantankerous and oversensitive, and say,
‘For my part, I can’t bear to dine with such a man, and put up with him
recounting the story of his military exploits in Mysia day after day—‘I’ve told
you, my dear fellow, how I made my way up to the top of the hill, but then I
came under siege again …’ [16] But another person will say, ‘As for me, I’d
rather have the dinner and listen to whatever chatter he cares to come up with.’
[17] It is for you to judge between these different points of view. Only, don’t do
anything with a heavy heart or sense of affliction, thinking that you’re in a bad
situation; for no one is forcing you to do that. [18] Has someone made smoke in
the house? If there isn’t too much, I’ll stay; if it’s excessive, I’ll leave the house.
For one should remember this fact and keep it firmly in mind, that the door
stands open.

[19] But someone says, ‘Don’t live in Nicopolis.’ I won’t live there. ‘Nor in
Athens.’ Nor there. ‘Nor in Rome.’ Nor there. [20] ‘You must live in Gyara.’*
I’ll go and live there. But living in Gyara strikes me as being like living in a
smoke-filled house. So I’ll go away to a place that no one can prevent me from
making my home, since it is a dwelling that is open to everyone. [21] And
beyond my final garment, that is to say, my poor body, no one has any power at
all over me. [22] That is why Demetrius said to Nero, ‘You’re threatening me
with death, but nature threatens you with it.’ [23] If I attach value to my poor
body, I have given myself up to slavery; if I attach value to my miserable
possessions, I’m likewise a slave; [24] for by doing so, I’m at once showing to
my own detriment by what means I may be caught. Just as when the snake draws
in its head, I say, ‘Strike at the part that it’s trying to protect!’, you too should be
aware that it is at the very point that you most want to protect that you’ll be
attacked by your master. [25] If you keep all of this in mind, whom will you
flatter any longer, whom will you fear?

[26] ‘But I want to sit where the senators do.’

Can’t you see that you’re merely crowding yourself in, creating aggravation for
yourself?

[27] ‘How else, then, can I get a proper view in the amphitheatre?’

Don’t go to watch, man, and you won’t be exposing yourself to aggravation.

Why create trouble for yourself? Or else, wait a while, until the show is over,
and then go and sit where the senators* do, and bask in the sun. [28] But as a
general rule keep this in mind, that it is we who cause aggravation to ourselves;
that is to say, it is our own judgements that aggravate us and crowd us in this
way. What does it mean, for instance, to be abused? [29] Go up to a stone and
subject it to abuse; what effect will you produce? Well then, if you listen like a
stone, what will anyone who abuses you be able to achieve? But if he is able to
use the weakness of the victim of his abuse as a handhold, then he can achieve
something. [30] ‘Strip him.’ What do you mean, ‘him’? Take his cloak and strip
that off. ‘I’ve subjected you to insulting treatment.’ Much good may it do you!

[31] These are the principles that Socrates practised, and that is why he always
bore the same expression on his face. But we for our part want to study and
practise anything other than to become unrestrained and free. [32] ‘The
philosophers talk in paradoxes.’ And are there no paradoxes in the other arts?
What is more paradoxical than to poke a lancet into a man’s eyes to restore his
sight? If anyone mentioned that to someone who had no knowledge of medicine,
wouldn’t he laugh at the person who said it? [33] Is it at all surprising, then, if in
philosophy, too, many things that are true seem paradoxical to the ignorant?

1.26 What is the law of life?

[1] As someone was reading out hypothetical arguments, Epictetus said, ‘It is
also a law of hypothetical arguments that one must accept what follows from the
hypothesis. But far more important is the law of life that states that we must do
what follows from nature. [2] Because if, in regard to every matter and in every
circumstance, we wish to hold to what is in accordance with nature, it is clear
that we should make it our aim in everything neither to shrink from what is in
accord with nature, nor to accept what is in conflict with nature. [3] And so the
philosophers must train us first in theory, which is the easier task, and then lead
us on to more difficult matters; for in theory, there is nothing to restrain us from
drawing the consequences of what we have been taught, whereas in life there are
many things that pull us off course. [4] It would be absurd for anyone to say that
he wanted to start off with the latter, since it is not at all easy to begin with what
is more difficult.

[5] And this is the defence that should be offered to those parents* who are
angry to see their children studying philosophy: ‘I’ve doubtless gone wrong,
father, and don’t know where my duty lies or what is right for me. But if this can
neither be learned nor taught, what reason do you have to criticize me? Or if it
can be taught, teach me. If you’re unable to do so, however, allow me to learn
from those who claim to know. [6] Come, what do you suppose? That I willingly
fall into evil and miss what is good? Heaven forbid! What is it, then, that causes
me to go astray? Ignorance. [7] So don’t you want me to deliver myself from
that ignorance? To whom has anger ever taught the art of navigation or music?
When it comes to the art of life, do you suppose, then, that your anger will teach
me what I need to know?’

[8] All of this can only properly be said, however, by one who has made a
serious effort to embark on that path. [9] But if someone reads up about these
matters and frequents the philosophers merely because he wants to show off his
knowledge of hypothetical arguments at a dinner, what else is he doing than
simply trying to win the admiration of some senator who is sitting beside him at
the table? [10] It is there at Rome, in truth, that the great fortunes are to be
found, and the wealth here would look there as being no more than child’s play.
It is thus by no means easy to keep control of one’s impressions there, since the
disturbing forces are so great. [11] I know someone who once grasped the knees
of Epaphroditus with tears in his eyes, telling him that he was in a terrible state
because he was left with nothing more than a million and a half sesterces! [12]
And what do you suppose Epaphroditus did? Laugh as you’re laughing now?
Not a bit of it, he exclaimed in astonishment, ‘Oh you poor man, how have you
been able to keep quiet about it, how have you been able to endure it?’

[13] The student* who was reading out the hypothetical arguments was thus
thrown into confusion, and when the man who had set him the task burst into
laughter, Epictetus said, You’re laughing at yourself; for you didn’t give this
young man any preliminary instruction, nor did you find out whether he is
capable of following these arguments, but merely made use of him as a reader.
[14] Why is it, he continued, that when a mind is incapable of grasping the
conclusions of a complex argument, we yet place trust in what the person has to
say in praise or blame, or his judgements as to whether things are well or badly
done? Now if such a person should speak ill of another, will that other person
care, or if he should praise someone, will that other person feel any pride, when
even in such slight matters such a person cannot work out the logical
consequences? [15] This, then, is the first step in philosophy, to become aware
of the condition of one’s ruling centre. For when a person comes to know that it
is in a weak state, he will no longer wish to employ it on matters of importance.
[16] But as things are, people who are incapable of swallowing down a small
morsel go and buy a whole treatise and set out to devour it. With the result that
they vomit it up or suffer from indigestion; and then come bowel upsets,
diarrhoeas, and fevers. [17] They ought to have begun by considering whether
they had the capacity. Yes, in matters of theory it is easy to refute the ignorant,
but in the affairs of life no one willingly exposes himself to refutation, and we
hate anyone who has refuted us. [18] But as Socrates used to say, the
unexamined life* isn’t worth living.

1.27 In how many ways do impressions arise, and what should we

have at hand to help us to deal with them?

[1] Impressions come to us in four ways. Either things are, and appear so to be;
or else they are not, and do not appear to be; or else they are, and do not appear
to be; or else they are not, and yet appear to be. [2] It is thus the task of an
educated person to hit the mark in each case.

Whatever difficulty may trouble us, we must bring forward the appropriate
remedy to apply against it. If it is the sophisms of the Pyrrhonists and
Academics* that trouble us, let us bring forward our remedies against them; [3]
if things have a specious appeal that makes them appear good when they’re not,
we must seek the remedy that is applicable in that area. If it is a habit that
troubles us, we must endeavour to find a remedy to use against it. [4] What
remedy can be found, then, to use against a habit? The contrary habit. [5] You
hear uneducated people saying, ‘Oh dear, the poor fellow’s dead, his father’s
heartbroken, and his mother too; he’s been struck down before his time, and in a
foreign land!’ [6] Listen to the opposing arguments, pull yourself away from
these expressions, counter a habit by setting a contrary habit against it. Against
sophistic arguments we should apply logical reasoning, and train ourselves in
such reasoning so as to become familiar with it. Against specious appearances,
we should apply clear preconceptions, keeping them well polished and ready for
use.
[7] When death appears to be an evil, we should have at hand this thought, that it
is our duty to avoid evils, and yet death is something that is inescapable. [8] So
what can I do? Where can I flee to escape it? Let’s suppose that I’m Sarpedon,*
son of Zeus, so that I may declare in the same noble spirit, ‘I set off with the
desire either to distinguish myself in battle or to give someone else an
opportunity to do so; for if I can’t succeed in something myself, I shan’t grudge
another the honour of performing some noble deed.’ Granted that such nobility
is beyond us, doesn’t it fall within our power to accept this line of thought? [9]
And where can we go to escape from death? Point me to the place, show me to
what people I should go who lie beyond the reach of death, show me a charm
that is effective against it. Otherwise, what would you have me do? I can’t
escape death; [10] but is it beyond my power to escape the fear of death, and
must I die grieving and trembling? For this is the origin of passion, to wish for
something that cannot come about. [11] So if I can change external
circumstances according to my wish, I change them; if not, I want to rip out the
eyes of whoever is standing in my way. [12] For such is human nature, we
cannot bear to be deprived of the good, and cannot bear to fall into what is bad.
[13] And so in the end, when I can neither alter things nor rip out the eyes of the
man who is standing in my way, I sit down and groan, and hurl abuse where I
can, at Zeus and the rest of the gods. For if they fail to take care of me, what are
they to me? [14] ‘Yes, you’ll fall into impiety.’

Can things get any worse for me, then, than they already are? In brief, one must
keep this point in mind, that unless piety and self-interest go hand in hand, piety
cannot be safeguarded by anyone. Doesn’t this line of argument seem
conclusive? [15] May a follower of Pyrrho or an Academician step forward to
oppose it. For my part, I have no leisure for such disputes, nor can I offer myself
as an advocate of common sense. [16] Even if I had a case to pursue about a bit
of land, I would call in someone else to plead my cause. With what argument
should I be satisfied, then? With such as is appropriate to the matter in question.
[17] As to how sensation is produced, whether through the mind as a whole or
just a part of it, I’m unable to defend one position rather than the other, and both
perplex me. But that you and I are not one and the same person, that I know with
full certainty. [18] And how so? Why, when I want to swallow a piece of food, I
never carry it to your mouth, but to my own. When I want to get some bread, I
never pick up a broom, but go straight to the bread as though to a target. [19]
And do you yourselves, who deny the evidence of the senses, do anything
different? Which of you, when he wants to go to a bath house, goes to a mill
instead?
[20] ‘Well then, shouldn’t we devote every effort to defending this position or
safeguarding common sense, while shoring ourselves up against the arguments
that would seek to oppose it?’

[21] And who says any different? But only one who has the capacity and the
leisure should make this his concern; as for one who trembles with fear, who is
troubled, whose heart is broken within him, he should devote his time to
something else.

1.28 That we should not be angry with others; and what things are
small, and what are great, among human beings?

[1] For what reason do we give our assent to something? Because it appears to
us to be the case. [2] If something appears not to be the case, it is impossible for
us to give our assent. And why so? Because that is the nature of our mind, that it
should agree to things that are true, not accept things that are false, and suspend
its judgement with regard to things that are uncertain. [3] What is the proof of
that? ‘Form the impression, if you can, that it is night at present.’ That is
impossible. ‘Put aside the impression that it is day.’ That is impossible. [4] So
whenever anyone assents to what is false, one may be sure that he does not
willingly give his assent to falsehood (‘for every mind is deprived of the truth
against its will’, as Plato observes), [5] but rather that what is false seemed to
him to be true. Well then, in the realm of action, have we anything that
corresponds to truth and falsehood in the realm of perception? What is fitting
and not fitting, beneficial and not beneficial, appropriate for me and not
appropriate for me, and so on.

[6] ‘A person can’t think something to be of benefit to him, then, and yet not
choose it?

He can’t.

[7] ‘So how can Medea say,

I know that what I intend to do is bad,

But anger is master of my plans?’*

Because she regarded this very thing, the gratification of her anger and
exacting of vengeance against her husband, as being more beneficial than
exacting of vengeance against her husband, as being more beneficial than
keeping her children safe.

[8] ‘Yes, but she is mistaken.’

Show her clearly that she is mistaken and she won’t follow that course; but as
long as you haven’t shown it, what else can she do than follow what seems best
to her? Nothing else. [9] Why should you be angry with her, then, because, poor
wretch, she has gone astray on matters of the highest importance, and has
changed from a human being into a viper? Shouldn’t you, if anything, take pity
on her instead? And just as we pity the blind and the lame, shouldn’t we also
take pity on those who have become blinded and crippled in their governing
faculties?

[10] Whoever keeps this fact clearly in mind, then, that for human beings the
present impression is the measure of every action—an impression that may,
besides, be well or badly formed; if well, that person is beyond reproach; if
badly, he himself pays the penalty, since it is impossible that one person should
go astray and another pay the penalty for it—whoever keeps this in mind, then,
will never be angry with anyone, and will never abuse, never criticize, never
hate, and never offend anyone.

[11] ‘Do such great and terrible deeds also have their origin in this, in
appearances?’

[12] Yes, in that and nothing else. The Iliad consists of nothing more than
impressions and the use of impressions. An impression prompted Paris to carry
off the wife of Menelaus, and an impression prompted Helen to go with him.
[13] If an impression, then, had prompted Menelaus to feel that it was a gain to
be deprived of such a wife, what would have come about? Not only the Iliad
would have been lost, but the Odyssey too!*

[14] ‘Can such great issues depend on such small causes?’

What do you mean by great issues? Wars and civil strife, the loss of many
human lives, the destruction of cities? And what is great in all of that?

‘You call that nothing?’

[15] Why, what is great in the death of a multitude of sheep and cattle, and in the
burning and destruction of countless nests of storks and swallows?
[16] ‘But are the two cases at all similar?’

Perfectly similar. In one case, the bodies of human beings are destroyed, and in
the other, the bodies of sheep and cattle. In the one case the little dwellings of
human beings are destroyed, and in the other, the nests of storks. [17] What is
great or terrible in that? Or show me how a human house differs from a stork’s
nest. Except that we build our houses from planks, tiles, and bricks, while storks
build theirs from twigs and clay?

[18] ‘Are a stork and a human being similar in nature?’

How do you mean? At a bodily level, entirely similar.

[19] ‘So a human being is no different from a stork?’

Far from it, but they’re no different in this respect.

‘In what respect do they differ, then?’

[20] Enquire, and you’ll find that the difference lies elsewhere. See whether it
doesn’t lie in the fact that a human being understands what he is doing; see
whether it doesn’t lie in his sense of fellowship, in his fidelity, in his sense of
shame, his steadfastness, his intelligence. [21] So where in human beings is the
great good and evil to be found? In that which distinguishes them as human; and
if that is preserved and kept well fortified, and if one’s self-respect, and fidelity,
and intelligence are kept unimpaired, then the human being himself is
safeguarded; but if any of these are destroyed or taken by storm, then he himself
is destroyed. [22] All that is great in human affairs turns on this. Did Paris suffer
his great disaster when the Greeks arrived and ravaged Troy, and when his
brothers perished? [23] Not at all, since no one comes to grief as the result of
another person’s actions; no, that amounted to nothing more than the laying
waste of storks’ nests. His true undoing was when he lost his sense of shame, his
loyalty, his respect for the laws of hospitality, his decency. [24] And when did
Achilles come to grief? When Patroclus died? Far from it. But rather, when he
himself yielded to anger, when he wept over a young girl, when he forgot that he
was there, not to acquire mistresses, but to make war.* [25] These are the ways
in which human beings are brought to grief, this is the siege, this the razing of
the citadel, when right judgements are overturned, when they are destroyed.

[26] ‘But when women are led away and children are reduced to slavery, when
the men themselves are slaughtered, is it really the case that these are not evils?’

[27] Where did you acquire this further notion? Please tell me.

‘No, it’s for you to explain how you can say that they’re not evils.’

[28] Let’s take recourse to our standard, bring forth your preconceptions. This is
why one cannot be sufficiently amazed at how people act in this regard. When
we want to make a judgement with regard to weights, we don’t judge at random;
when we want to judge whether things are straight or crooked, we don’t do so at
random; [29] in short, when it is important to know the truth in any case, none of
us ever does anything at random. [30] But when it comes to the first and only
cause of acting rightly or in error, of succeeding or failing, of being unfortunate
or fortunate, there alone we act in a random and precipitate way. Nowhere
anything like a balance, nowhere anything like a standard, but no sooner does
some impression strike me than I immediately act upon it. [31] Am I any better
than Agamemnon and Achilles, to be satisfied by impressions alone, when they
caused and suffered such evils by following their impressions? [32] What
tragedy has had any other origin than this? What is the Atreus of Euripides? All
a matter of impressions. The Oedipus of Sophocles? Impressions. The Phoenix?
Impressions. The Hippolytus?* Impressions. [33] What do you call those who
follow every impression that strikes them? Madmen! What about us, then; do we
act any differently?

1.29 On steadfastness
[1] The essence of the good is a certain disposition of our choice, and that of the
bad likewise. [2] What are externals, then? Materials for our choice, which
attains its own good or ill through the way in which it deals with them. [3] How
can it attain the good? By not overvaluing the materials. For if its judgements
about the materials are correct, that makes the choice good, whereas if they are
twisted and perverse, that makes it bad. [4] Such is the law that God has laid
down, saying, ‘If you want anything good, you must get it from yourself,’ while
you for your part say, ‘No, get it from elsewhere.’ [5] So when a tyrant makes
threats and summons me, I ask, ‘What is he threatening?’ If he says, ‘I’ll throw
you into chains,’ I’ll reply, ‘Then it is my hands and feet that he is threatening.’
[6] If he says, ‘I’ll have you beheaded,’ I’ll reply, ‘Then it is my head that he is
threatening.’ If he says, ‘I’ll throw you into prison,’ I’ll reply, ‘Then it is my
whole miserable carcase,’ and if he threatens me with exile, I’ll say the same.

[7] ‘Then he isn’t really threatening you in any way.’

In no way at all, if I feel that all these things are nothing to me; [8] but if I’m
afraid about any of this, it is me whom he is threatening. Who is left for me to
fear? He who holds mastery over what? Over things that are within my power?
But there is no such man. Over things that aren’t within my power? And what do
I care about things like that?

[9] ‘Do you philosophers teach us, then, to hold kings in contempt?’

Heaven forbid! Who of us teaches you to oppose them over things that are
subject to their authority? [10] Take my poor body, take my possessions, take
my reputation, take the people around me. If I’m urging anyone to offer
resistance with regard to any of that, may someone please accuse me!

[11] ‘Yes, but I also want to exercise control over your judgements.’

And who has given you that power? How can you control another person’s
judgement?

[12] ‘By striking him with fear, I’ll overpower him.’

You fail to understand that a judgement can only overpower itself, and cannot be
overpowered by another person. And nothing can overpower our choice, apart
from choice itself. [13] That is why this law of God is most excellent and just:
‘Let that which is stronger always prevail over that which is weaker.’

[14] ‘Ten men are stronger than one,’ someone says.

In what respect? In throwing people into chains, taking their life, dragging them
off wherever they want, stripping them of their property. Yes, ten men can
assuredly prevail over one in that in which they are stronger!

[15] ‘In what, then, are they weaker?’

If the one person has correct judgements, and the others don’t. Well then, how
can they prevail over him in that? How could they? If we are weighed in the
balance, isn’t it the case that that which is heavier must always carry down the
scales?
scales?

[16] ‘So that Socrates may suffer what he did at the hands of the Athenians?’

Why do you say ‘Socrates’ here, you slave? State the matter as it really is, and
say, ‘So that the poor body of Socrates may be arrested and dragged off to prison
by those who were stronger than he, so that someone may administer hemlock to
the poor body of Socrates, and that body of his may grow cold and die.’ [17]
Does that seem strange to you, does that seem unjust, is it because of that that
you criticize God? Did Socrates gain nothing in exchange? [18] In what, for him,
did the essence of the good consist? Who should we listen to on this point, to
you or to him? Now what does he say? ‘Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but
they cannot harm me,’ and again, ‘If this is what God wills, so be it.’* [19] ‘But
you prove to me that someone who holds inferior judgements can prevail over
one who is superior in his judgements. You’ll never prove that, or even come
close to doing so. For it is a law of nature and of God that “what is stronger must
always prevail over what is weaker”.’ In what? In that in which it is stronger.
[20] One body is stronger than another, several people are stronger than a single
person, a thief is stronger than someone who is not a thief. [21] That is why I
lost my lamp,* because the thief was better than me at keeping awake. But he
has paid a high price for the lamp, since in return for a lamp he has become a
thief, in return for a lamp, a man of bad faith, in return for a lamp, a wild beast.
That struck him as being a good bargain!

[22] Very well; but someone has now seized me by my cloak and is dragging me
into the marketplace, while others call out to me, ‘Tell me, philosopher, what
good have your judgements done you? For look, you’re being dragged off to
prison; look, you’re going to lose your head!’

[23] And what kind of induction into philosophy could I have acquired that
would have saved me from being dragged off in that way if a stronger man than
me seized me by the cloak, or have saved me from being thrown into prison if
there were ten men to seize me and throw me in? [24] But have I learned nothing
else, then? I have learned to see that whatever comes about is nothing to me if it
lies beyond the sphere of choice. [25] So have I gained no benefit in that? Why
look for your benefit, then, in anything other than what you’ve learned? [26] As
I sit in prison, I’ll say accordingly, ‘The person who shouts this at me neither
understands the explanation that is offered to him, nor follows what is said to
him, nor, in short, has he made any effort to know what the philosophers say, or
what they do. Send him away.
[27] ‘But you may come out of prison now.’

If it is of no further use to you that I should be in prison, I’ll leave; if it is of use

to you again, I’ll return.

[28] ‘For how long?’

For as long as reason may choose that I remain attached to my poor body; but
when reason chooses otherwise, take it, and much good may it do you! [29]
Only, let me not surrender it in an unreasonable manner, or out of cowardice, or
on some arbitrary pretext. For that would again be contrary to the will of God,
since he has need of such a world as ours, and beings such as us to go and live
on the earth. But if he sounds the signal for retreat, as he did to Socrates, then I
must obey the one who gives the signal as I would a general.

[30] ‘What, should one say this to all and sundry?’

[31] To what end? Isn’t it sufficient to be convinced in one’s own mind? When
children come to us clapping their hands and saying, ‘Today’s the Saturnalia,*
rejoice!’, do we reply to them, ‘There’s nothing to rejoice at in that’? Of course
not, we clap in return. [32] Well then, you should do the same—when you’re
unable to make someone change his views, recognize that he is a child, and clap
as he does. Or if you don’t care to act in such a way, you have only to keep
quiet.

[33] We should keep all of this in mind, then, and when we’re summoned to
confront any difficulty of this kind, we should know that the moment has come
to show whether we have received a proper philosophical education. [34] For a
young man who leaves his studies to confront such a difficulty is like one who
has studied how to resolve syllogisms, and if someone offers him one that is
easily solved, will say, ‘No, please give me a complicated one instead, to enable
me to gain some practice.’ Athletes likewise are none too happy to be matched
against young lightweights. [35] ‘He can’t lift me off the ground,’ they’ll say.
Such is the attitude of a gifted young man. But no, when the moment calls, you
have to burst into tears and say, ‘I want to continue my studies.’ Study what? If
you didn’t learn these things so as to be able to put them into practice, why did
you learn them in the first place? [36] I imagine that there must be someone
among those who are sitting here who feels the labour pains within his mind and
says, ‘Why is it that a difficulty does not fall upon me now such as that man had
to face? Must I be wasting my time sitting in a corner when I might have been
crowned at Olympia? When will anyone ever bring me news of such a contest?’
Such is the spirit that all of you ought to show. [37] Even among Caesar’s
gladiators, there are some who take it amiss that no one is bringing them out or
matching them against an opponent, and they pray to God, and go to their
manager to beg to be sent out into combat. So will none of you show yourselves
to be like them? [38] I wanted to sail off to view that very spectacle, and see how
my athlete is doing, and how he is carrying out the task that is set for him. [39] ‘I
don’t want a task of that kind,’ he says. Is it, then, within your power to choose
whatever task you want? You have been given such a body, such parents, such
brothers, such a country, and such a post within it, and then you come to me and
say, ‘Change my task.’ What, don’t you have the resources to able to deal with
that which has been given to you? [40] What you should say is, ‘It’s for you to
set the task, and for me to attend to it well.’ But no, you say, ‘Don’t propose this
kind of hypothetical argument to me but rather that kind.’ [41] The time will
soon be coming when the actors think that their masks, and high boots, and
robes* are their very selves. Man, you have all of that only as your subject
matter, your task. [42] Speak out so that we may know whether you’re a tragic
actor or a buffoon; for in other respects, both are just alike. [43] Thus, if one
deprives a tragic actor of his high boots and mask, and brings him on the stage
like a ghost, has the actor disappeared or does he remain? If he has his voice, he
remains.

[44] So also in life. ‘Take a governorship.’ I take it, and in doing so, show how a
properly educated man conducts himself. [45] ‘Take off your senatorial robe,
dress in rags, and step forward in that role.’ What, then, hasn’t it been granted to
me to display a fine voice? [46] ‘In what role, then, are you coming on the stage
now?’ As a witness summoned by God: [47] ‘You there, come forward and bear
witness for me; for you’re worthy of being produced by me. Is anything that lies
outside the sphere of choice either good or bad? Do I cause harm to anyone?
Have I placed each person’s advantage under the control of anyone other than
himself?’ What witness will you offer up to God? [48] ‘I’m in a terrible way,
Lord, and suffer nothing but misfortune; no one cares for me, no one gives me
anything, everyone finds fault with me, everyone speaks badly of me.’ [49] Is
that the sort of witness that you’ll offer? Is that the way in which you’ll disgrace
the appeal that he has made to you, conferring such honour on you, and judging
you worthy of being brought forward to bear witness in such a cause?

[50] But the one who holds power has declared, ‘I pronounce you to be impious
and unholy.’ What has happened to you? ‘I’ve been judged to be impious and
unholy.’ [51] Nothing more than that? ‘Nothing more.’

Suppose he had passed judgement on some hypothetical proposition, declaring,

‘I judge the proposition “if it is day, there is light” to be false’; how would that
affect the hypothetical proposition? Who has been condemned? The proposition
itself or the man who is mistaken about it? [52] Now who is this man who has
power to pass judgement upon you? Does he know what piety or impiety really
is? Has he studied the matter? Has he learned about it? Where, and from whom?
[53] A musician would surely pay no heed to him if he declared the string that
sounds the lowest note to be that which sounds the highest, nor would a
geometer if he declared that the lines that pass from the centre of a circle to its
circumference are not of equal length. [54] So should a properly educated person
pay any attention to an uneducated one when he passes judgement about what is
holy and unholy, or what is just and unjust?

How very unjust that would be on the part of the educated! Is that what you have
learned here, then? [55] Aren’t you willing to leave quibbles about such matters
to other people, silly little men with no energy, so that they can sit in a corner
and collect their small fee, or else grumble that nobody is giving them anything?
And for your part, won’t you come forward and put into practice what you’ve
learned? [56] For it is not fine arguments that are lacking nowadays; no indeed,
the books of the Stoics are brimming with them. What is it that is lacking, then?
Someone to put them into practice, someone to bear witness to the arguments in
his actions. [57] Take up this task for me, so that in the school we may no longer
have to appeal to examples from long ago, but may also have some example
from our own time.

[58] To whom does it fall, then, to examine these theoretical questions? To

someone who has the leisure. For man is a creature who loves to engage in
contemplation; [59] but it is shameful to contemplate such questions in a state of
distraction like runaway slaves. No, we should settle down free from all
distraction, and listen now to a tragic actor, now to a lyre player, rather than
behaving as such slaves do. He is very attentive and full of praise for the actor,
but peers around nervously at the same time, and if anyone comes to mention the
word ‘master’, is immediately thrown into agitation and alarm. [60] It is
shameful likewise for philosophers to contemplate the works of nature in such a
state of mind. For what exactly is a master? One person is not master of another,
but it is rather life and death, pleasure and pain, that are his masters. Bring
Caesar to me without those, and you will see how calm I am; [61] but when he
arrives with all of that, to the accompaniment of thunder and lightning, and I
allow myself to be intimidated by that, what else am I doing than recognizing
my master, like a runaway slave? [62] As long as I have, as it were, some relief
from those things, I too am like a runaway slave who is watching in the theatre; I
take a bath, I drink, I sing, yet do so in fear and misery. [63] But if I free myself
from my masters, that is to say, from all those things that render masters
terrifying, what further worry do I have; what master do I have?

[64] What, then, are we to announce these truths to all and sundry? No, we must
accommodate ourselves to laymen and say, ‘What this man thinks good for
himself, he also recommends to me, so I excuse him for that.’ [65] Socrates
excused the jailer who wept when he was about to drink the poison, and said,
‘How gracious of him to shed those tears for me.’ [66] Was it to him that
Socrates said, ‘That is why we sent the women away’? No, but to his friends, to
those who were capable of understanding. As for the jailer, he accommodated
himself to him, as one would to a child.*

1.30 What should we have at hand the help us in difficult

circumstances?

[1] When you enter the presence of some powerful man, remember that there is
another who is looking down from above on what is happening here, and that it
is him whom you need to please rather than this man. [2] That other asks you,
then, ‘What did you call exile, imprisonment, chains, death, and dishonour in
your school?’—‘These I called matters of indifference.’ [3] —‘So what do you
call them on the present occasion? Have they changed in any way?’—‘No they
haven’t.’—‘And have you yourself changed?’—‘No.’—‘Tell me, then, what is
meant by matters of indifference, and what follows from that?’—‘They’re things
that lie outside the sphere of choice, and they’re nothing to me.’ [4] —‘Tell me
further, what were the things that you regarded as being “goods”?’—‘The right
exercise of choice and right use of impressions.’—‘And what is the end?’—‘To
follow God.’ [5] —‘And do you say the same on the present occasion
too?’—‘Yes, I say the same even now.’

Then make your way in with confidence, keeping all of this in mind, and you
will see what it means for a young man who has undertaken proper philosophical
training to appear among people who haven’t. [6] I for my part am inclined to
suppose, by the gods, that you will have some such feelings as these: ‘Why have
we made such great and elaborate preparations for nothing whatever? [7] Is this
what power amounted to? Is that all that the antechamber, chamberlains, and
armed guards meant? Was it for this that I listened to so many lectures? It is
really nothing at all, and yet I prepared for it as though it were something of
great consequence.’
 BOOK 2

2.1 That confidence does not conflict with caution

[1] The following assertion of the philosophers may perhaps seem paradoxical
to some people, but let us examine nonetheless, as best we can, whether it is true
that ‘we ought to combine caution with confidence in all that we do’. [2] For
caution seems in some sense contrary to confidence, and contraries cannot
coexist in any way. [3] What strikes many people as being paradoxical in this
matter rests, I think, in some such thought as this: if we were to demand that
people should exercise caution and confidence at the same time with regard to
the same things, we could be justly accused of wanting to combine qualities that
are incompatible. [4] And yet, is it really the case that there is anything
objectionable in this saying? For if what has often been stated, and often
demonstrated, is sound, namely, that ‘the essence of the good lies in the use of
impressions, as does that of the bad likewise, but things that lie outside the
sphere of choice participate neither in the nature of the good nor in that of the
bad’, [5] what is paradoxical in the contention of philosophers who say, ‘Where
things that lie outside the sphere of choice are concerned, there you should act
with confidence, but when it comes to things within the sphere of choice, there
you should act with caution’? [6] For if the bad lies in the bad exercise of
choice, it is with regard to objects within the sphere of choice alone that caution
needs to be exercised; and if those that lie outside the sphere of choice, and
which are not within our power, are nothing to us, it is with regard to those that
confidence needs to be exercised. [7] And thus we will be at once cautious and
confident, and, by Zeus, confident by virtue of our caution; for by exercising
caution with regard to things that are truly bad, we will gain confidence with
regard to those that are not.

[8] Yet we behave like deer; when the hinds are scared by the feathers and run
away from them, where do they turn and where do they retreat to in the hope of
finding safety? To the nets;* and it is thus that they meet their end, because they
have mistaken what should inspire fear for a source of confidence. [9] And
likewise with us too, where is it that we show fear? With regard to things that lie
outside the sphere of choice. And where, on the other hand, do we behave with
confidence, as if there were nothing to fear? With regard to things that lie within
the sphere of choice. [10] To be deceived, then, or to act rashly, or to carry out
some shameful act or harbour some shameful desire, we regard as being of no
importance, provided only that we achieve our aim with regard to matters that lie
outside the sphere of choice. Where we’re faced with death, or banishment, or
pain, or ignominy, it is there that we try to retreat, there that we grow agitated.
[11] And so, as might be expected of those who are mistaken on matters of the
highest importance, we transform our natural confidence into rashness,
recklessness, foolhardiness, impudence, and our natural caution and reserve into
cowardice and servility, full of fears and alarms. [12] For if one transfers caution
to the sphere of choice, then along with the wish to act cautiously, one will at the
same time have it within one’s power to avoid what one wishes to avoid;
whereas if one transfers caution to things that are not within our power and lie
outside the sphere of choice, since our will to avoid will then be directed towards
things that are within the power of others, one will necessarily be subject to fear,
instability, and agitation. [13] For it isn’t death or pain that is frightening, but the
fear that we feel in the face of death or pain. That is why we praise the man who
said, ‘To die is not dreadful, but to die with dishonour.’*

[14] It is towards death, then, that our confidence should be directed, and
towards the fear of death our caution; whereas in fact we do the opposite, taking
flight in the face of death, while showing carelessness, neglect, and indifference
in forming a judgement about it. [15] Socrates rightly referred to such fears as
bogeys.* For just as masks seem horrible and frightening to children because of
their lack of experience, we allow ourselves to be affected like that too by
events, for just the same reason as children are frightened by bogeys, and in the
same fashion. [16] For what is a child? Ignorance. What is a child? Lack of
knowledge. For in those areas in which he does have some knowledge, he is in
no way inferior to us. [17] What is death? A bogey. Turn it round and you’ll find
out; look, it doesn’t bite! Sooner or later, your poor body must be separated from
its scrap of vital spirit, just as it was formerly. Why be upset, then, if it should
come about now? If it is not separated now, it assuredly will be. [18] For what
reason? So that the cycle of the universe may be accomplished; for it has need of
what is presently in existence, and what will come to be, and what has completed
its course. [19] And what is pain? A bogey; turn it round and you’ll find out.
Your poor flesh sometimes undergoes rough treatment, and sometimes gentle. If
you don’t find that to be to your profit, the door stands open;* if you see some
profit in it, you must put up with it. [20] For the door stands open for every
eventuality, and we thus have no cause for worry.

[21] What is the fruit, then, of these teachings? Precisely what must be finest and
most fitting for those who have received a true philosophical education, namely,
peace of mind, fearlessness, and freedom. [22] For on these questions we should
put our trust not in the crowd, who say that only free men can be educated, but
rather in the philosophers, who say that none but the educated can be free.

[23] ‘How do you mean?’

This is what I mean; nowadays is freedom anything other than the ability to live
as we wish?

‘Nothing other than that.’

Tell me now, my friends, do you want to live in error?

‘Surely not.’

Then no one who lives in error can be free. [24] Do you want to live in fear,
distress, or agitation?

‘Not at all.’

No one who lives in fear, then, or distress or agitation, can be free, but anyone
who is released from fear, distress, and agitation is released by the very same
course from slavery too. [25] So how can we trust you any longer, beloved
lawgivers? Do you allow none but the free to gain an education? For according
to the philosophers, we don’t allow any but the educated to be free, or rather, the
gods don’t allow it.

[26] ‘So if someone has turned his slave around* in front of the praetor, has he
done nothing at all?’

He has indeed done something.

‘What?’

He has turned his slave around in front of the praetor.

‘Nothing more?’
‘Nothing more?’

Something more, since he also has to pay over a twentieth of the slave’s value.

[27] ‘What, hasn’t the slave become free by going through this procedure?’

He has no more become free than he has gained peace of mind. [28] Tell me,
those of you who are able to put others through that procedure, do you have no
master of your own? Don’t you have money as your master, or some girl or boy,
or a tyrant or some friend of that tyrant? If not, why do you tremble when you
have to have dealings with any of these? [29] That’s why I’m forever repeating:
You must study these teachings and keep them constantly at hand, to know what
you should face with confidence, and what you should approach with caution;
that is to say, that you should be confident with regard to things that lie outside
the sphere of choice, and exercise caution with regard to those that lie within it.

[30] ‘But haven’t I read my exercises to you; don’t you know what I’m doing?’

[31] In what? In fine phrases? You can keep your fine phrases! No, show me
how you are in relation to desire and aversion, and whether you never fail to get
what you want, and never fall into what you want to avoid. But as for those
elegantly constructed sentences of yours, you’ll take them away and wipe them
out.

[32] ‘What, didn’t Socrates write?’*

Yes, who wrote as much as he? But how did he go about it? Since he couldn’t
always have someone at his side to subject his judgements to examination, or to
be cross-examined by him in turn, he used to subject himself to examination, and
test himself out, and was always trying out the practical application of some
specific preconception. [33] That is the kind of thing that a philosopher writes.
But as for fine phrases and the approach that I was speaking about, he leaves
those to others, to the foolish or the blessed, to those who live a life of leisure
because they are free from passion, or to those who in their folly take no account
of logical consequences.

[34] And now, when the moment calls, will you go off and give a reading to
show off your compositions, and boast about them, saying, ‘Look how well I can
put dialogues together’? [35] No, that’s not what you should be boasting about,
man, but this: ‘See how I never fail to attain what I desire, see how I never fall
into what I want to avoid. Bring death before me and you’ll know. Bring
hardships, bring imprisonment, bring ignominy, bring condemnation.’ [36] Such
should be the display that a young man offers when he leaves school. Leave all
the rest to others; let no one ever hear you utter a word about such things, nor
should you ever accept praise from anyone in that regard, but let it be thought
that you’re a nobody and an ignoramus. [37] Show that you know this alone,
how never to fail to attain what you desire, and never to fall into what you want
to avoid. [38] Let others study how to plead in the courts, or how to deal with
problems, or with syllogisms, while you study how to face death, imprisonment,
torture, and exile. [39] Do all of this with confidence, placing your trust in the
one who has called you to this task, and has judged you worthy of this position,
in which, once you have taken it up, you’ll show what can be achieved by a
rational ruling centre when it is ranged against forces that lie outside the sphere
of choice.

[40] And so the paradox that I referred to will no longer seem either impossible
or paradoxical, namely, that we ought to be at once confident and cautious, being
confident with regard to things that lie outside the sphere of choice, and cautious
with regard to those that lie within it.

2.2 On calmness of mind

[1] Consider now, you who are going into court, what you want to preserve and
what you want to accomplish. [2] If you want to preserve your choice and keep
it in accord with nature, you’ll be entirely safe; all will go smoothly; you’ll have
no trouble. [3] If you want to safeguard those things that lie within your own
power and are free by nature, and remain satisfied with those, what is left for
you to worry about? For who holds power over them; who can take them away
from you? [4] If you want to be self-respecting and trustworthy, who can
prevent you? If you want to be subject to no hindrance and constraint, who can
constrain you to desire things that you don’t think that one should desire, or to
avoid things that you don’t think that one should avoid? [5] Well then, the judge
may take measures against you that are commonly regarded as being
frightening, but unless you accept them as such by seeking to avoid them, how
can he do that? [6] Since desire and aversion are within your own power, then,
what else do you need to worry about? [7] Let this be your introductory
statement, your exposition, your proof, your victory, your peroration, and your
source of renown.
[8] That is why, when someone reminded Socrates* that he ought to be
preparing for his trial, he replied, ‘Don’t you think that I’ve been preparing for
this my whole life through?’ [9] —‘By what kind of preparation?’—‘I’ve
safeguarded what lies within my power,’ he said.—‘How do you mean?’—‘I’ve
never committed any wrong, whether in my private life or my public life.’

[10] But if you want to safeguard what is external too, your poor body, your
petty possessions, any slight reputation that you have, I can only say to you,
begin to make every possible preparation from this time onward, and study the
character, furthermore, of your judge and your opponent in the case. [11] If you
need to clasp his knees, clasp them, or to weep, then weep, or to groan, then
groan. [12] For as soon as you subordinate what is truly your own to external
things, you must be a slave ever afterwards, and don’t allow yourself to be
drawn in different directions, so that you’re willing to act the slave at one
moment and unwilling to do so at the next, [13] but choose unequivocally and
wholeheartedly to be either the one thing or the other, either free or a slave,
either educated or uneducated, either a fighting cock of true spirit or one without
spirit, either one who will endure a rain of blows until death or one who’ll
immediately give up the fight. But for heaven’s sake, don’t accept a large
number of blows only to give up in the end! [14] If that is shameful, decide
without further delay where the nature of good and bad is to be found, which is
where truth is to be found also.

[15] Do you suppose that, if Socrates had wanted to safeguard external goods, he
would have stepped forward in court and said, ‘Anytus and Meletus* can kill
me, but they cannot harm me’? [16] Would he have been so stupid as not to see
that this course would have taken him not to the desired end, but elsewhere?
Why is it, then, that he takes no account of the judges and even provokes them?
[17] Take the case of my friend Heraclitus in a minor lawsuit in Rhodes about a
small patch of land. After demonstrating to the judges that his claim was just, he
then went on to say in the peroration, ‘But I won’t plead with you, nor do I care
what verdict you pronounce; for it is you who are being judged rather than I.’ By
speaking in such a way, he ruined his case. [18] And what good did it serve? Be
satisfied merely to avoid making any entreaties, without going on to add, ‘And
I’ll make no entreaties,’ unless the time has come for you, as in the case of
Socrates, to provoke the judges with deliberate intent. [19] If you’re preparing a
peroration of that kind, why rise to speak; why obey the summons? [20] For if
you want to be crucified, you only have to wait and the cross will come to you.
But if reason prescribes that you should obey the summons and do your best to
speak persuasively, you should act accordingly, though doing your best to
safeguard your own good.

[21] For the same reason, it is also ridiculous to say, ‘Give me some advice.’
What advice should I give you? No, this is what you should say: ‘Ensure that my
mind will be able to adapt itself to whatever comes about.’ [22] For the former
request amounts to the same as an illiterate person asking, ‘Tell me what to write
when some name is set for me to write.’ [23] Suppose I tell him to write ‘Dion’,
and the teacher comes along and sets him not that name, but ‘Theon’, what will
come of it? What is he to write? [24] But if you’ve studied how to write, you’ll
be ready for everything that may be dictated to you; and if not, what advice
should I give you now? If the circumstances should dictate something different,
what will you say, what will you do? [25] Keep this general principle in mind,
then, and you’ll never be in need of advice. But if you’re constantly hankering
after external things, you’re sure to be tested this way and that in accordance
with your master’s will. [26] And who is your master? Whoever has authority
over anything that you’re anxious to gain or avoid.

2.3 To those who recommend people to philosophers

[1] Diogenes* made an excellent reply to someone who asked him for a letter of
recommendation. ‘That you are a human being’, said Diogenes, ‘he will know as
soon as he sees you; whether you are a good or a bad one, he will know if he has
learned to distinguish between the good and the bad; and if he hasn’t learned
that, it would make no difference if I were to write him thousands of letters.’ [2]
It is just as if a drachma piece were to ask to be recommended to someone to
make itself accepted. If that person is an assayer of silver, you’ll recommend
yourself. [3] We ought to have something in everyday life, then, that is
comparable to what we have for silver coinage, so that we might be able to say,
as the assayer does, ‘Bring whatever drachma you wish and I’ll test it out.’ [4]
When it comes to the testing of syllogisms, I can say, ‘Bring whichever you
want and I’ll distinguish between that which works out properly and that which
doesn’t.’ Why? Because I know how to analyse syllogisms; I have the skill that
is required if one is to judge whether syllogisms are rightly constructed. [5] But
when it comes to ordinary life, what do I do? On one occasion I call something
good, and on another I call the same thing bad. For what reason? The opposite of
that which applies in the case of syllogisms, namely, ignorance and
inexperience.
 2.4 To a man who had once been caught in adultery

[1] As Epictetus was remarking that human beings are born for fidelity, and that
anyone who damages it is damaging the distinctive quality of man, there
happened to enter someone who passed for a scholar and had once been caught
in adultery in the city. [2] But if we lay aside this fidelity, continued Epictetus,
to which we are born, and set out to seduce our neighbour’s wife, what exactly
are we doing? What else, to be sure, than ruining and destroying? Destroying
what? The person of fidelity, integrity, piety. [3] Nothing more than that? Aren’t
we destroying good feeling between neighbours, aren’t we undermining
friendship and the state? And what position are we placing ourselves in? How
am I to treat you, man? As a neighbour, as a friend? And of what kind? As a
fellow citizen? How am I to place any trust in you? [4] If you were an old pot
that was so cracked as to be good for nothing, you would be thrown out on a
dung-heap, and no one would bother to pick you up again. [5] But if, as a human
being, you’re unable to fulfil any human function, what are we to do with you?
Well then, since you can’t hold the position of friend, can you hold that of a
slave? And who will trust you? Aren’t you willing, then, to be thrown out in
your turn onto a dung-heap somewhere, like a useless pot, like a piece of shit?
[6] And then you’ll exclaim, ‘No one cares for me, scholar though I am.’
Naturally, since you’re of bad character and useless. It’s just as if wasps were to
complain that nobody cares for them, but everyone runs away instead, and
strikes them dead if possible. [7] You too have a sting of such a kind as to bring
trouble and distress to those whom you strike. There’s nowhere to put you.

[8] ‘What, aren’t women common property* by nature?’

Yes, I’d agree; and a little pig is the common property of those who have been
invited to the meal. But when the portions have been handed out, go and grab the
share of the person sitting next to you, steal it surreptitiously, or reach out your
hand to satisfy your greed; and if you can’t tear off a piece of the meat, grease
your fingers with the fat and lick them. A fine table companion you’d make, a
dinner guest worthy of Socrates!*

[9] ‘Come now, isn’t the theatre the common property of all the citizens?’*

Very well, come along when everyone has sat down, and, if you have a mind to,
chase someone out of his seat. [10] In the same way, women, too, are common
property by nature; but when the lawgiver, like the host at a feast, has
apportioned them, aren’t you willing, then, like everyone else, to seek out your
own portion, rather than grab someone else’s in addition to satisfy your greed?

‘But I’m a scholar and know how to interpret Archedemus.’*

[11] Understanding Archedemus as you do, then go ahead and be an adulterer

and a cheat, and a wolf or ape, rather than a human being. For who can stop you?

2.5 How greatness of mind may coexist with carefulness

[1] Materials are indifferent, but the use that one makes of them is by no means
indifferent. [2] How, then, can one preserve firmness and calmness of mind, and
at the same time the attentiveness that saves us from careless and thoughtless
action? By following the example of those who play at dice. [3] The counters are
indifferent, the dice are indifferent. How can I know in what way the throw will
fall? But to be attentive and skilful in making use of whatever does fall, that is
now my task. [4] And so likewise, my principal task in life is this: to distinguish
between things, and establish a division between them and say, ‘External things
are not within my power; choice is within my power. [5] Where am I to seek the
good and the bad? Within myself, in that which is my own.’ But with regard to
what is not my own, never apply the words good or bad, and benefit or harm,
and any other word of that kind.

[6] ‘What, then, are we to use these externals in a careless fashion?’

Not at all; for that is again bad for our faculty of choice, and thus contrary to
nature. [7] Rather, they should be used with care, because their use is not a
matter of indifference, and at the same time with composure and calmness of
mind, because the material being used is indifferent. [8] For wherever anything
is truly important to me, there no one can hinder or compel me. Where I’m
capable of being hindered or compelled, it is in relation to things that are not
within my power to obtain, and that are neither good nor bad; whereas the use
that I make of them is either good or bad, and that does lie within my power.

[9] It is difficult, to be sure, to unite and combine these two states of mind, the
vigilance of one who feels attracted by outside objects, and the composure of
one who feels indifferent to them; but all the same it is not impossible. For
otherwise it would be impossible for us to be happy. [10] It is rather as if we had
to set off on a sea-voyage. What lies within my power? To choose the
helmsman, the sailors, the day, the moment. [11] Then a storm descends on us.
Now why should that be of any concern to me? For my role has been completed.
This is now somebody else’s business, that of the helmsman. [12] But now the
ship begins to sink. So what can I do? What I can and that alone, namely, to
drown without fear, without crying out, without hurling accusations against God,
as one who well knows that what is born is also fated to perish. [13] For I am not
everlasting, but a human being, a part of the whole as an hour is a part of the
day. Like an hour I must come, and like an hour pass away. [14] So what
difference does it make to me how I pass away, whether it be by drowning or a
fever? For in some way or other, pass away I must.

[15] Experienced ball players can also be seen to act in such a way. None of
them is concerned about whether the ball is good or bad, but solely about how to
throw and catch it. [16] It is there accordingly that the player’s agility, and skill,
and speed, and good judgement are demonstrated; so where I for my part can’t
catch the ball even if I spread out my cloak to do so, an expert will catch it
whenever I make a throw. [17] But if we’re anxious or nervous when we make
the catch or throw, what will become of the game, and how can one maintain
one’s composure; how can one see what is coming next? But rather, one player
will be saying, ‘Throw!’, and another, ‘Don’t!’, and another again, ‘Don’t throw
so high!’ In truth, that is a brawl and not a game.

[18] Now Socrates* certainly knew how to play ball. ‘How do you mean?’ He
knew how to play when on trial in court. ‘Tell me, Anytus,’ he said, ‘how can
you claim that I don’t believe in God? What do you suppose daemons are?
Aren’t they either offspring of gods, or a hybrid race born from human beings
and gods?’ [19] And when Anytus agreed, he continued, ‘Do you think, then,
that it is possible for mules to exist, but not donkeys?’ It was as though he was
playing ball. And there in court, what ball was in play? Life, imprisonment,
exile, a draught of poison, the loss of his wife, and having to leave his children
behind as orphans. [20] That was what was involved, that was what he was
playing with, but play he did nonetheless and threw the ball with dexterity. That
is how we too should act, with the close attention of the cleverest of ball players,
while showing the same indifference to what we are playing with, as being no
more than a ball. [21] For we should do our best to show our skill with regard to
any external material, yet without becoming attached to it, but merely displaying
our skill with regard to it, whatever it might be. In just the same way, a weaver
doesn’t make wool, but employs his skill on whatever wool he may receive. [22]
Another provides you with nourishment and possessions, and he can take them
away again likewise, along with your body too. For your part, you should accept
the material and work on it. [23] And then, if you take your leave without having
suffered any harm, all who meet you will congratulate you on your escape; but
one who has a better insight into these matters, if he sees that you’ve conducted
yourself with honesty, will praise you and rejoice with you, but will do the
opposite if he sees that you’ve escaped through some act of dishonesty.

[24] How can one say, then, that some externals are in accordance with nature,
and others contrary to it? It is as if we are asking the question in isolation. Thus,
I will say that it is natural for the foot* to be clean, taken in isolation, but if you
consider it as a foot and not in isolation, it will be appropriate for it also to step
into mud, and trample on thorns, and sometimes even to be cut off for the sake
of the body as a whole; for otherwise, it will no longer be a foot. [25] We should
think in some such way about ourselves also. What are you? A human being.
Now, if you consider yourself in isolation, it is natural for you to live to an
advanced age, to be rich, and to enjoy good health; but if you consider yourself
as a human being and as part of some whole, it may be in the interest of the
whole that you should now fall ill, now embark on a voyage and be exposed to
danger, now suffer poverty, and perhaps even die before your time. [26] Why do
you resent this, then? Don’t you know that in isolation a foot is no longer a foot,
and that you likewise will no longer be a human being? What, then, is a human
being? A part of a city, first of all that which is made up of gods and human
beings, then that which is closest to us and which we call a city, which is a
microcosm of the universal city.

[27] ‘Must I be brought to trial, then?’

What, would you have someone else fall ill with a fever, someone else sail out to
sea, someone else die, someone else be condemned? For it is impossible, while
we are in a body such as ours, and in this universe that contains us, and among
such companions as we have, that such things should not happen to us, some to
one person and some to another. [28] It is thus your role to step forward and say
what you ought, and to deal with these things as they turn out. If the judge then
proclaims, ‘I judge you to be guilty,’ you may reply, ‘I wish you well. [29] I
have fulfilled my role, it is for you to see whether you have fulfilled yours.’ For
he too runs some risk: don’t forget that.

2.6 About indifference

[1] A hypothetical syllogism is something that is indifferent; the judgement that
one makes about it is not indifferent, however, but is either knowledge, or
opinion, or delusion. And likewise, life is indifferent, but the use that one makes
of it is not. [2] So when someone tells you that these things, too, are indifferent,
don’t become careless, and when someone encourages you, on the other hand, to
be careful, don’t become submissive and allow yourself to be overawed by
material things.

[3] It is also good to know how well prepared one is and be aware of one’s
capacity, so that if you aren’t properly prepared, you may keep silent and not be
upset if others show themselves to be superior to you in those matters. [4] For
you in turn may regard yourself as being superior to them when it comes to
syllogisms, and if they’re upset by that, you can console them by saying, ‘I’ve
learned this and you haven’t.’ [5] And likewise, in areas in which practice is
required, don’t seek the advantage that practice alone can provide, but leave the
matter to those who have the benefit of long experience, and be content for your
part to preserve your composure.

[6] ‘Go and pay your respects to So-and-so.’—‘I do so.’—‘How?’—‘In no

submissive fashion.’—‘But you had the door shut in your face.’—‘Yes, since I
haven’t learned to climb in through the window.’ [7] —‘Go and speak to him
though.’—‘I do so.’—‘In what way?’—‘In no submissive fashion.’

[8] But you didn’t get what you wanted. For that wasn’t your business, was it?
No, it was his. So why should you want to lay claim to what is another’s?
Always remember what is your own and what is not, and you’ll never be
troubled. [9] So Chrysippus* did well to say, ‘As long as the consequences
remain unclear to me, I always hold to what is best fitted to secure such things as
are in accordance with nature; for God himself, in creating me, granted me the
freedom to choose them. [10] But if I in fact knew that illness had been decreed
for me at this moment by destiny, I would welcome even that; for the foot, too, if
it had understanding, would be eager to get spattered with mud.’

[11] Why, for instance, do ears of corn grow? Isn’t it so that they may ripen? If
they ripen, isn’t it so that they may be harvested? For they don’t exist
independently. [12] If they had any awareness, wouldn’t they be bound to pray
that they should never be harvested? Yet it would be a curse for ears of corn
never to be harvested. [13] You should know that for human beings likewise, it
would be a curse for them never to die; it is the same as not coming to ripeness,
as not being harvested. [14] But since we’re beings who must both be harvested
and be aware at the same time that we’re being harvested, we become aggrieved
at this. For neither do we know who we are, nor have we studied what it means
to be human in the same way as horsemen study everything that relates to
horses. [15] Now when Chrysantas* was about to strike down an enemy and
heard the trumpet sounding the recall, he held back, thinking it better to fulfil his
general’s order than his own will. [16] And yet none of us, even when necessity
calls, is at all happy to obey, but we suffer our lot with tears and groans,
referring to it as force of circumstance. [17] What do you mean by
‘circumstance’, man? If by that you mean what surrounds you, why, all things
are circumstances; but if you use the term as implying something disagreeable,
what is disagreeable in the fact that whatever is born must pass away? [18] The
instrument of destruction may be a sword, or a wheel, or the sea, or a roof tile, or
a tyrant. What does it matter by which road we have to make the descent to
Hades? All roads are equal. [19] But if you’d like to know the truth, the shortest
is that on which you’re sent by a tyrant. It never took a tyrant six months to cut
someone’s throat, while a fever can often take as much as a year to achieve the
same result! All of these things are mere noise, the vain sounding of empty
words.

[20] ‘I’m at risk of losing my life when I’m with Caesar.’

And don’t I have to face the same risk myself, living as I do in Nicopolis, where
there are so many earthquakes? And when you for your part have to sail across
the Adriatic, what is it that you’re risking? Aren’t you risking your life?

[21] ‘But I’m also put at risk by opinion.’

Your own opinion? How so? Can anyone compel you to think anything other
than what you want to think? The opinions of others? What sort of risk does it
present to you if other people have false opinions?

[22] ‘But I’m at risk of being exiled.’

What does it mean to be exiled? To have to live somewhere else than in Rome?

‘Indeed, but what if I’m sent to Gyara?’

If it suits you, you’ll go there; if not, there is somewhere else you can go instead
of Gyara, to that place where he who’s banishing you to Gyara will have to go in
his turn, whether he wants to or not. [23] Why, then, are you going off as if you
were going to have to face great dangers? It is nothing much when compared to
the preparations that you’ve made, so that a gifted young man might say, ‘It was
hardly worth the trouble of listening to so many lectures, of writing so many
exercises, and sitting for all this time with a little old man who was of no great
worth.’ [24] Just remember the distinction that must be drawn between what is
yours and what is not yours. Never lay claim to anything that is not your own.
[25] An orator’s platform and a prison are two different places, one high and the
other low; but your choice can be kept the same in either place, if you want to
keep it so. [26] And then we’ll be emulating Socrates,* once we’re able to write
hymns of praise in prison. [27] But as we’ve been up until now, consider
whether we would be able to endure it if someone came to us in prison and said,
‘Would you like me to read you some hymns of praise?’ ‘Why are you pestering
me in this way? Don’t you know what trouble I’m in? Is that possible for me in
these circumstances?’—‘What circumstances, then?’—‘I’m about to
die.’—‘And is everyone else going to be immortal?’

2.7 How we should make use of divination

[1] Because we resort to divination on the wrong occasions, many of us fail to

carry out many appropriate actions, [2] for what is a diviner able to see that
extends beyond death, danger, or illness, or, in general, things of that kind? [3] If
one should be obliged, then, to run a risk on behalf of a friend, or if it is
appropriate for me even to die for him, what occasion is left for me to resort to
divination? Don’t I have a diviner within me who has taught me the true nature
of good and bad, and can interpret the signs that indicate the one and the other?
[4] So what further need do I have of entrails or birds? And if a diviner says to
me, ‘That is what will be of benefit to you,’ will I put up with it? Why, does he
know what is beneficial? Does he know what is good? [5] In learning to read the
signs in the entrails, has he also learned the signs that are indicative of good and
bad? For if he has knowledge of those, he also knows those that indicate what is
right or wrong, and what is just or unjust. [6] Man, it is your part to tell me
whether the signs point to life or death, riches or penury; but to know whether
these would be beneficial or harmful, is it really you whom I should be
consulting? [7] Why is it that you don’t speak out on points of grammar? And
yet you do speak out on those matters on which all of us go astray and can never
reach agreement? [8] It was thus an excellent reply that the woman made when
she wanted to send a boatload of provisions to the exiled Gratilla;* for when
someone said to her, ‘Domitian will merely confiscate them,’ she replied,
‘Better that he should take them away than that I should fail to send them.’

[9] What is it, then, that drives us to make such frequent use of divination?
Simply cowardice, our fear of what may come about. That is why we flatter the
diviners. ‘Please, sir, will I get that inheritance from my father?’—‘Let me see
now, we must offer up a sacrifice.’—‘Yes, sir, as fortune wishes.’ He then goes
on to say, ‘You’ll get the inheritance,’ and we thank him as though we had got
the inheritance from the diviner himself.

[10] What is the proper course, then? To go to them with neither desire nor
aversion, as a traveller might ask a passer-by which road will take him to his
destination, without having any particular desire to go to the right rather than the
left; for he has no wish to pass along either of them specifically, but along the
one that will take him to where he wants to go. [11] It is in the same spirit, too,
that we should ask God to guide us on our way, making use of him as we make
use of our eyes; for we don’t ask our eyes to show us some things as against
others, but are willing to accept the images of everything that they reveal to us.

[12] As things are, though, we tremble in front of the augur, and grasp his hand
and appeal to him as though he were a god, imploring him, ‘Have pity on me,
sir, do please grant that I may come off well.’ [13] What, slave, do you wish for
anything other than what is best for you? And is anything better for you than
what God pleases? Why are you then making every possible effort to corrupt
your judge, to mislead your counsellor?

2.8 What is the essence of the good?

[1] God brings benefit; but the good also brings benefit. It would seem,
therefore, that where the true nature of God is to be found, there too will be that
of the good. [2] Then what is the nature of God? Flesh? In no way whatever.
Land? In no way. Fame? In no way. He is intelligence, knowledge, right reason.
[3] So it is there alone that one should seek the true nature of the good. For do
you perhaps want to look for it in a plant? No. Or in an irrational being? No. If
you’re seeking it in that which is rational, why do you continue to look for it
anywhere else than in what distinguishes the rational from the irrational? [4]
Plants don’t even have the capacity to make use of impressions, and for that
reason you don’t speak of the good in relation to them. It requires the capacity,
then, to make use of impressions. [5] That alone? For if that is all that is
required, one might say that the other animals are capable of the good, and of
happiness and unhappiness. [6] But you don’t claim any such thing, and rightly
so. For even if they’re entirely capable of dealing with impressions, they have no
understanding of the use that they make of them. And with good reason, since
they’re born to serve others, and aren’t of primary value.

[7] A donkey, for instance, surely isn’t born to be of primary value? No, but
because we had need of a back that is able to carry our burdens. But we also
required, by Zeus, that it should be able to walk around; so for that reason, it has
received in addition the capacity to make use of impressions, since it would
otherwise have been incapable of walking around. [8] But there its endowment
ends. For if it had also been granted the power to understand its use of those
impressions, it is clear that it would consequently no longer have been subject to
us, nor would it render us the services that it does, but would be our equal and
like ourselves. [9] Aren’t you willing, therefore, to seek the essence of the good
in that quality whose absence from other creatures prevents us from speaking of
the good in relation to them?

[10] ‘What, isn’t it the case that these creatures, too, are works of God?’

Indeed they are, but they’re not of primary value, nor are they portions of the
divine. [11] But you for your part are of primary value; you’re a fragment of
God. Why are you ignorant, then, of your high birth? Why is it that you don’t
know where you came from? [12] Don’t you want to keep in mind, when you
eat, who it is that is doing the eating, and whom it is that you’re feeding? And
when you engage in sexual intercourse, who it is that is doing so? In your social
relationships, in your physical exercises, in your conversations, aren’t you aware
that it’s a god whom you’re feeding, a god whom you’re exercising? You carry
God around with you, poor wretch, and yet have no knowledge of it. [13] Do
you suppose that I mean some external god of gold or silver? It is within
yourself that you carry him, and you fail to realize that you’re defiling him
through your impure thoughts and unclean actions. [14] Yet in front of a divine
image, you wouldn’t dare to do any of the things that you do; but when God
himself is present within you, and he sees and hears everything, aren’t you
ashamed to think and act as you do, you who are ignorant of your own nature
and are an object of divine anger?

[15] After all, when we send a young man out of school into the affairs of life,
why are we afraid that he’ll do something wrong, in the way in which he eats, or
in his sexual relationships, or that he may be abased if he’s dressed in rags, or be
puffed up with pride if he has fine robes? [16] This young man has no
knowledge of the god whom he has within him, and doesn’t know in whose
company he is setting out into the world. But can we allow him to say, ‘I wish
you were coming with me’? [17] Wherever you may be, won’t you have God
with you? And having him, do you seek some other companion? [18] And would
he have anything different to say to you? Why, if you were one of the statues of
Phidias,* his Athena or his Zeus, you would have remembered both yourself and
the artist who made you, and if you had any power of perception, you would
have tried to do nothing unworthy of the one who made you, or of yourself, and
never to display yourself to human eyes in any unsuitable attitude; [19] but as it
is, since it was Zeus who made you, are you therefore unconcerned about what
manner of person you show yourself to be? And yet what comparison is there
between the one artist and the other, between the one work of art and the other?
[20] And what work of any human artist contains within itself the very faculties
that are displayed in its making? Is such a work anything other than marble, or
bronze, or gold, or ivory? And the Athena of Phidias, once she has stretched out
her hand to receive the Victory upon it, remains fixed in that attitude for ever,
whereas the works of the gods move and breathe, and are capable of making use
of impressions and passing judgements about them. [21] When you yourself are
the work of such a maker, will you dishonour him? Not only has he created you,
but he has also entrusted you to your own sole charge, [22] and yet will you not
only fail to remember that, but also dishonour the charge that he has entrusted to
you? If God had entrusted an orphan to your care, would you have neglected him
in such a fashion? [23] Yet he has delivered you yourself into your own keeping,
and says, ‘I had no one in whom I could put more confidence than you. Keep
this person as he was born by nature to be; keep him modest, trustworthy, high-
minded, unshakeable, free from passion, imperturbable.’ And after that, don’t
you want to keep him so?

[24] But people will say, ‘Where did that man get his haughty air and solemn
expression?’ To be sure, my bearing isn’t yet what it should be. For I have yet to
place full confidence in what I’ve learned and agreed to; I’m still afraid of my
own weakness. [25] Let me gain some additional confidence, and then you’ll see
the right look in my eye and right bearing; then I’ll show you what the statue is
like when it is completed and fully polished. [26] What do you think of it? A
haughty air? Heaven forbid! The Zeus at Olympia doesn’t display a haughty air,
surely? No, he maintains a steady gaze, as befits one who is about to proclaim,
‘My word is irrevocable and never deceives.’* [27] That is how I’d like to show
myself to you: faithful, modest, noble-minded, imperturbable. [28] What, and
immortal too, and eternally young, and immune from disease? No, but as one
who can die in a god-like way, who can endure disease in a god-like way. That
lies in my power, that I can do, but the rest is not in my power, nor can I do it.
[29] I’ll show you the sinews of a philosopher. And what sinews are those?
Desire that never fails in its aim, aversion that never falls into what it wants to
avoid, motivation that accords with one’s duty, purpose that is carefully
weighed, and assent that is not over-hasty. That is what you’ll see.

2.9 That although we are unable to fulfil our human calling, we

adopt that of a philosopher

[1] Merely to fulfil the role of a human being is no simple matter.

[2] For what is a human being? ‘A rational and mortal creature,’ someone says.
First of all, what does the rational element serve to distinguish us from? ‘From
wild beasts.’ And from what else? ‘From sheep and the like.’ [3] Take care,
then, never to be like a wild beast; otherwise you will have destroyed what is
human in you, and will have failed to fulfil your part as a human being. Take
care that you never act like a sheep; or else in that way, too, you will have
destroyed what is human in you.

[4] ‘When is it, then, that we act like sheep?’

When we act for the sake of our belly or genitals, when we act at random, or in a
filthy manner, or without proper care, to what level have we sunk? To that of
sheep. What have we destroyed? What is rational in us. [5] And when we behave
aggressively, and harmfully, and angrily, and forcefully, to what level have we
sunk? To that of wild beasts. [6] There are, besides, some among us who are
large ferocious beasts, while others are little ones, small and evil-natured, which
prompt us to say, ‘I’d rather be eaten by a lion!’ [7] By all such behaviour, the
human calling is destroyed.

[8] When is a complex proposition* preserved as valid? When it fulfils its

function, so that its validity is founded on the truth of the propositions of which
it is composed. And a disjunctive proposition? When it fulfils its function. And
when are flutes, a lyre, a horse, a dog preserved? [9] Is it surprising, then, that a
human being, too, should be preserved in the same way, and destroyed in the
same way? [10] Each person is strengthened and preserved by actions that are
appropriate to his nature; the carpenter by those that accord with the art of
carpentry, the grammarian by those that accord with the art of grammar. But if
the latter gets into the habit of writing ungrammatically, his skill will necessarily
be destroyed and perish. [11] A modest character is preserved likewise by
modest actions, while shameless actions will destroy it; and a faithful character
is preserved by acts of fidelity, while acts of a contrary nature will destroy it.
[12] And the opposing characters are destroyed in turn by behaviour of the
opposite kind, the shameless by shamelessness, the disloyal by disloyalty, the
slanderous by slanders, the irascible by anger, and the miser by the disproportion
between what he takes in and what he gives out.

[13] That is why philosophers recommend that we shouldn’t be contented

merely to learn, but should add practice too, and then training. [14] For over a
long period of time, we have got into the habit of doing the opposite of what we
have learned, and the opinions that we hold and apply are the opposite of the
correct ones. So unless we put the opposite opinions into use, we’ll be nothing
more than interpreters of other people’s judgements. [15] For who is there
among us at this present time who cannot give a systematic account of what is
good and bad? That some things are good, others bad, and others again
indifferent; that the virtues and what partakes in the virtues are good, while
things of the opposite nature are bad; and that wealth, health, and reputation are
indifferent. [16] Then, while we’re speaking, if some rather loud noise occurs, or
someone in the audience begins to laugh at us, we become disconcerted. [17]
Tell me, philosopher, what has become of the fine things that you were saying?
Where did you get them from? Your lips, and that’s all. Why do you spoil
helpful thoughts, then, that are not your own? Why do you play around with
matters of the highest importance? [18] It is one thing to put bread and wine
away in a store-room, and quite another to eat them. What is eaten is digested
and distributed around the body, to become sinews, flesh, bones, blood, a good
complexion, sound breathing. What is stored away is ready at hand, to be sure, to
be taken out and displayed whenever you wish, but you derive no benefit from it,
except that of having the reputation of possessing it. [19] What difference does it
make, in fact, whether you expound these teachings or those of another school?
Sit down and give a technical account of the teachings of Epicurus, and perhaps
you’ll give a better account than Epicurus himself! Why call yourself a Stoic,
then; why mislead the crowd; why act the part of a Jew when you’re Greek? [20]
Don’t you know why it is that a person is called a Jew, Syrian, or Egyptian? And
when we see someone hesitating between two creeds, we’re accustomed to say,
‘He is no Jew, but is merely acting the part.’ But when he assumes the frame of
mind of one who has been baptized* and has made his choice, then he really is a
Jew, and is called by that name. [21] And so we too are baptized in pretence
only, and are Jews in name alone, while in fact being someone quite different,
since we’re not in sympathy with our own doctrines, and are far from making
any practical application of the principles that we express, even though we take
pride in knowing them. [22] And so it is, that when we’re not even able to fulfil
the function of a human being, we want to assume that of a philosopher too,
massive burden though that is. It is as though a man who is incapable of lifting
ten pounds wanted to lift up the rock of Ajax!*

2.10 How may the actions that are appropriate to a person be

discovered from the names applied to him?

[1] Consider who you are. First of all, a human being, that is to say, one who has
no faculty more authoritative than choice, but subordinates everything else to
that, keeping choice itself free from enslavement and subjection. [2] Consider,
then, what you’re distinguished from through the possession of reason: you’re
distinguished from wild beasts; you’re distinguished from sheep. [3] What is
more, you’re a citizen of the world and a part of it, and moreover no subordinate
part, but one of the leading parts in so far as you’re capable of understanding the
divine governing order of the world, and of reflecting about all that follows from
it. [4] Now what is the calling of a citizen? Never to approach anything with a
view to personal advantage, never to deliberate about anything as though
detached from the whole, but to act as one’s hand or foot would act if it had the
power of reason and could understand the order of nature, and so would never
exercise any desire or motive other than by reference to the whole. [5] The
philosophers are thus right to say that if a wise and good person could foresee
the future, he would cooperate with nature even if it came to illness, death, or
mutilation, because he would recognize that these are allotted as a contribution
to the ordering of the whole, and that the whole is more important than the part,
and the city than the citizen. [6] But since we can’t in fact foretell what will
come about, it is our duty to hold to what is naturally more fit to be chosen,
since that is what we were born for.

[7] Remember next that you are a son. What is required of a person in this role?
To regard all that he owns as belonging to his father, to obey him in all things,
never to speak badly of him to others, never to do or say anything that might
cause him harm, and to defer and yield to him in everything, helping him to the
best of his ability.

[8] Know next that you are also a brother. In this role, too, you’re obliged to
show deference, obedience, and restraint in your language, and never to contend
with your brother for anything that lies outside the sphere of choice, but to be
happy to give it up, so as to have a better share of the things that lie within the
sphere of choice. [9] For consider what it is to acquire his good will at the price
of a lettuce, perhaps, or a chair: what a bargain that is!

[10] And next, if you’re sitting on the council of some city, remember that
you’re a councillor; if you’re young, remember that you’re young; if an old man,
remember that you’re an old man; if a father, remember that you’re a father. [11]
For each of these names, if carefully considered, indicates the actions that are
appropriate to it. [12] But if you go off and disparage your brother, I’ll tell you
that you’ve forgotten who you are and what name you bear. [13] Now if you
were a smith and made poor use of your hammer, you’d have forgotten what you
are as a smith; so if you forget what you are as a brother, and become an enemy
instead, do you really suppose that you haven’t exchanged one thing for another?
[14] And if instead of being a man, a civilized and sociable creature, you’ve
become a wild beast that is harmful, treacherous, and liable to kill, have you lost
nothing at all? What, must you lose a bit of money to suffer any damage, and
does the loss of nothing else cause damage to a human being? [15] If you were
to lose your knowledge of grammar and music, you’d regard that loss as being
damaging; and yet if you lose your sense of shame, and dignity, and kindliness,
you count that as being of no importance? [16] And yet those other losses are
brought about through some external cause, beyond the power of our will,
whereas these latter qualities are lost through our own fault; and to possess the
former qualities is no source of honour, nor is it shameful to lose them, whereas
it is shameful not to possess the latter, and to lose them is a stain on one’s
honour and a true misfortune. [17] If a man submits to being an invert, what is it
that he loses? The man in him. And the one who makes use of him? Along with
many other things, he loses the man in him no less than the other does. [18] And
what does the adulterer lose? The man who has self-respect and self-control, the
gentleman, the citizen, the neighbour. Someone who gives way to anger, what
does he lose? Something else. One who falls prey to fear? Something else. [19]
No one becomes bad without suffering loss and damage. To be sure, if you
regard loss of money as being the only loss, all such people remain unharmed
and suffer no loss; they may even make some gain and profit if they earn any
money from such actions. [20] But consider now, if you bring everything back to
money, even someone who loses his nose will have suffered no damage in your
view.

‘Yes, he has,’ someone says, ‘because his body is mutilated.’

[21] Come, does a man who loses all sense of smell lose nothing at all? Does
there exist no faculty of the mind, then, that brings benefit to one who possesses
it, and damage if he loses it?

[22] ‘Which do you mean?’

Don’t we have a natural sense of shame?

‘We do indeed.’

Does someone who destroys it suffer no damage or deprivation; does he lose

nothing that properly belongs to him? [23] Don’t we possess a natural sense of
fidelity, a natural sense of affection, a natural sense of helpfulness, a natural
sense of restraint? And if someone carelessly allows himself to suffer the loss of
any of these, is it really the case, then, that he suffers no harm or loss?

[24] ‘What, then, if someone injures me, won’t I injure him in return?’

Consider first what an injury is, and recall what you have heard from the
philosophers. [25] If it is the case, then, that the good lies in choice, and the bad
likewise, see whether what you’ve just said amounts to this: [26] ‘Since the
person in question has injured himself by inflicting some wrong on me,
shouldn’t I injure myself by inflicting some wrong on him?’ [27] Why don’t we
picture the matter in some such way as that, instead of counting it as an injury
when we suffer some loss with regard to our body or possessions, while counting
it as no injury at all where our choice is affected? [28] It is that when one is
deceived or commits an injustice, one suffers no pain in one’s head, or one’s
eye, or one’s hip, nor does one lose any land; [29] and we’re concerned about
nothing other than things of that kind. As to whether our choice is kept honest
and trustworthy, or will on the contrary be shameful and unreliable, that doesn’t
cause us the slightest concern, except when it comes to making fine speeches in
the classroom. [30] And so the progress that we make extends only to
speechifying, and apart from that we advance not a step further.
 2.11 What is the point of departure in philosophy?

[1] The point of departure in philosophy, at least for those who embark on it in
the proper way and enter by the front door, is a consciousness of our own
weakness and incapacity with regard to essential matters. [2] For we come into
the world without having an innate conception of a right-angled triangle, or of a
quarter-tone or half-tone in music, but learn what these are through some kind of
systematic instruction, so that, for that reason, those who have no knowledge of
them don’t suppose that they know anything about them; [3] but who among us
enters the world without having an innate conception of what is good and bad,
right and wrong, appropriate and inappropriate, and of happiness, and of what is
proper for us and falls to our lot, and of what we ought to do and ought not to
do? [4] And so it comes about that all of us make use of these terms, and try to
apply our preconceptions to individual cases. [5] ‘He acted well, he did as he
ought or ought not to have done; he has been unfortunate, or was fortunate; he is
unjust, or is just’; who among us fails to use such expressions? Who defers the
use of them until he has been properly instructed, as with those who are ignorant
about lines or musical notes? [6] The reason is that, in this area, we come into
the world ready-instructed, as it were, to some degree by nature, and starting
from that, we go on to add our personal opinion.

[7] ‘But why is it’, someone says, ‘that I don’t know what is right or wrong? Is it
that I have no preconception in this regard?’

No, you do have one.

‘Is it that I fail to apply it to particular cases?’

No, you do apply it.

‘So I don’t apply it properly?’

[8] The whole question turns on that, and it is here that opinion enters in. For
people start from these generally acknowledged principles, but then get involved
in disputes because they fail to apply them in an appropriate way to particular
cases. [9] If, in addition to these general principles, they also possessed the
knowledge that is required to apply them correctly, what could keep them from
being perfect? [10] But now, since you think that you can also apply your
preconceptions in an appropriate fashion to particular cases, tell me, how did you
come to draw that conclusion?

‘Because I think it to be so.’

And yet another person doesn’t think the same on the matter, and he too thinks
that he’s applying the principles properly; or doesn’t he?

‘Indeed he does.’

[11] Can it be possible, then, that both of you are applying your preconceptions
appropriately with regard to matters on which you hold conflicting opinions?

‘No, we can’t be.’

[12] Do you have anything to show us, then, over and above your personal
opinion, that would enable you to make a better application of your
preconceptions? But does a madman do anything other than what seems good to
him? And would that be a sufficient criterion for him too?

‘Of course it wouldn’t.’

Pass on, then, to something that stands higher than mere opinion. What could
that be? [13] Look now, this is the starting point of philosophy: the recognition
that different people have conflicting opinions, the rejection of mere opinion so
that it comes to be viewed with mistrust, an investigation of opinion to determine
whether it is rightly held, and the discovery of a standard of judgement,
comparable to the balance that we have devised for the determining of weights,
or the carpenter’s rule for determining whether things are straight or crooked.

[14] Is this the starting point of philosophy? Is everything right that appears right
to each person? And how could it be possible for conflicting opinions to be
right? So they can’t be right in every case. But perhaps those that appear right to
us specifically? [15] Why to us rather than to the Syrians, or to the Egyptians?
Or rather than what strikes me personally, or some other person, as being right?
There’s no reason to think that some are more likely to be right than others. [16]
And so the opinion that each person holds is not a sufficient criterion for
determining the truth.

When it comes to weights and measures, too, we aren’t satisfied with mere
appearances, but have devised a standard to test them out in each case. In the
present area, then, is there a higher standard than mere opinion? And how is it
present area, then, is there a higher standard than mere opinion? And how is it
possible that that which is most vital for human beings should lie beyond
determination, beyond discovery?

[17] ‘There surely must be a standard.’

Why don’t we seek it out, then, and discover it, and after having discovered it,
put it to use without fail ever afterwards, never departing from it by so much as a
finger’s breadth? [18] For that is something, I think, which, when found, will
rescue from madness those who use opinion as their sole measure in everything,
so that from that time onward, setting out from known and clearly defined
principles, we can judge particular cases through the application of
systematically examined preconceptions. [19] What is the subject of our present
enquiry?

‘Pleasure.’

[20] Submit it to the standard, put it on the scales. For something to be good,
must it be something that we can properly place confidence and trust in?

‘Indeed it must.’

Can we properly place confidence, then, in something that is unstable?

‘No.’

[21] Is pleasure stable?

‘No, it isn’t.’

Away with it, then; take it out of the scales, and drive it away from the realm of
good things. [22] But if your sight is none too keen and one set of scales isn’t
enough for you, bring another. Is the good something that can properly inspire us
with pride?

‘It is indeed.’

Is the pleasure of the moment, then, something that can properly inspire us with
pride? Take care not to say that it is, or I’ll no longer regard you as being worthy
of even using the scales! [23] It is thus that things are judged and weighed when
one has the standards at hand; [24] and the task of philosophy lies in this, in
examining and establishing those standards. [25] As for the use of them, once
they are known, that is the business of the virtuous and good person.

2.12 About the art of argument

[1] What one needs to learn if one is to know how to conduct an argument is
something that has been accurately determined by philosophers of our school;
but when it comes to the proper application of that knowledge, we’re altogether
unpractised. [2] If you get any of us to engage in an argument with a layman, we
won’t find a way to deal with him. After shifting him a bit, if he then proves
uncooperative, we can no longer handle him, and then either abuse him or make
fun of him, saying, ‘He’s only an ignorant amateur; one can’t do anything with
him.’ [3] But a good guide, when he sees someone wandering astray, doesn’t
abandon him with a dose of mockery or abuse, but leads him back to the proper
path. [4] So you too should show him the truth and you’ll see how he follows.
As long as you fail to make it clear to him, though, you shouldn’t make fun of
him, but should recognize your own incapacity instead.

[5] How did Socrates act, then? He forced his interlocutor to bear witness for
him and had no need of any other witness. He was thus able to say, ‘I can do
without everyone else; it is always enough for me to have my interlocutor as
witness; as for the rest, I don’t seek their vote, but that of my interlocutor alone.’
[6] For he would bring the consequences of our preconceptions so clearly to
light that everyone, no matter who, recognized the contradiction involved and so
abandoned it. [7] ‘Does an envious man take pleasure in his envy?’—‘Not at all,
but quite the reverse, he is pained by it.’ Through the contradiction he has
shaken his partner. ‘Well then, does envy seem to you to be a feeling of pain
provoked by the sight of bad things?’ [8] And so he has made him say that envy
is a feeling of pain provoked by the sight of good things. ‘Well now, can anyone
envy things that mean nothing to him?’ ‘In no way.’ [9] And so, once he had
filled out the concept and systematically examined it, he went off; he didn’t say
to the other man, ‘Define envy for me,’ and then, when the man had defined it,
go on to say, ‘That is a bad definition because the terms of it don’t correspond to
the object defined,’ [10] introducing technical terms, which are tiresome for
laymen as a consequence and hard for them to follow, even if we for our part
can’t manage without them. [11] But as to terms that the layman himself could
follow and that would enable him, through recourse to his own impressions, to
accept some proposition or reject it—we’re altogether incapable of moving him
by use of terms such as those. [12] And consequently, being aware as we are of
this incapacity, we naturally abandon the attempt, or at least those of us who
have some measure of good sense do. [13] But the mass of people, when they
stumble into debates of this kind, get thoroughly confused and confuse everyone
else, and finally take their leave after an exchange of abuse. [14] Now it was the
principal and most distinctive characteristic of Socrates that he never got
overheated in an argument, and never resorted to abuse or any form of insolence,
but would patiently endure abuse from others and put an end to any conflict. [15]
If you want to know what great abilities he possessed in that regard, read
Xenophon’s Symposium, and you’ll see how many disputes he settled. [16]
Hence among the poets too, this is a quality that is rightly spoken of in terms of
the highest praise; ‘With sure skill he would soon end even a great quarrel.’*

[17] Well now, this activity is none too safe these days, especially at Rome. For
those who engage in it clearly mustn’t set to work in a corner, but must go and
find some rich man of consular rank, and ask him, ‘You there, can you tell me
who you’ve entrusted your horses to?’ [18] —‘Yes, of course.’—‘Is it to
someone who just happened to come along, and knows nothing at all about
horses?’—‘In no way.’—‘Well then, who have you entrusted your gold and
silver to, or your clothes?’—‘In the case of these, too, not to the first man who
came along.’ [19] —‘And your body, have you ever thought of entrusting that to
someone’s care?’—‘Indeed I have.’—‘Doubtless to someone with expert
knowledge, in physical training or medicine?’—‘Absolutely.’ [20] —‘Are these
your most valuable possessions, or do you have something that is better than all
of them?’—‘What do you mean?’—‘Something, by Zeus, that makes use of
those other things, and puts each of them to the test, and deliberates about
them?’—‘You’re presumably referring to the mind?’ [21] —‘You suppose
rightly; that is exactly what I’m thinking of.’—‘By Zeus, I really do regard it as
being much superior to anything else that I possess.’ [22] —‘Can you tell me,
then, how you look after your mind? For it is hardly possible that a man as wise
as yourself, who is so highly respected in the city, will have been so careless as
to neglect his most valuable possession and let it go to ruin.’ [23] —‘Certainly
not.’—‘But have you indeed taken care of it? [24] And did you learn how to do
so from somebody else, or did you discover it for yourself?’ At this point the
danger arises that he may first exclaim, ‘Is that any business of yours, sir? Who
are you to me?’, and then, if you continue to pester him, he may raise his fist and
land a blow on you. [25] This is an enterprise that I too was once very keen to
pursue, until I fell into such difficulties.
 2.13 About anxiety

[1] When I see someone in a state of anxiety, I say, ‘What is it that he wants?’
For unless he wanted something that was not within his power, how could he
still be anxious? [2] That is why a lyre-player* feels no anxiety when singing on
his own, but becomes anxious when he enters the theatre, even if he has a fine
voice and plays his instrument well. For he wants not only to sing well, but also
to win the approval of his audience, and that is something that lies beyond his
control. [3] Where he has skill, then, he has self-assurance too; bring any layman
you please in front of him and he won’t be concerned; but where it is a case of
something that he doesn’t know and has never studied, there he feels anxious.
[4] So what does this mean? That he doesn’t know what a crowd is, or the
applause of a crowd. He has learned, to be sure, how to strike the low and high
notes, but what the praise of the mass of people is, and what value it holds in
life, these are things that he neither knows nor has ever studied. [5] So here he is
bound to tremble and turn pale.

I cannot say that someone isn’t a lyre-player when I see him in a state of fear,
but I can say something else about him, and not just one thing alone, but a
number of things. [6] First of all, I call him a stranger and say: this man doesn’t
know where on earth he is, but although he has been living here all this time, he
has no knowledge of the laws of the city and its customs, and of what is
permitted and what is not. And, moreover, he has never consulted a lawyer who
could tell him and explain what the laws allow. [7] And yet he’d never write a
will without knowing how it ought to be written, or else consulting an expert,
nor does he act any differently when setting his seal on a bond or signing a
guarantee. He exercises his desires and aversions, however, without any advice
from a lawyer, and so too his motives and intentions and purposes. [8] And what
do I mean by saying, ‘Without advice from a lawyer’? Why, that he doesn’t
know that he wants things that he’s not allowed to have, and doesn’t want things
that he’s bound to have, and doesn’t know, moreover, what rightly belongs to
him or what belongs to others. For if he knew that, he’d never feel hindered, and
never feel constrained, and wouldn’t fall prey to anxiety. [9] How could it be
otherwise? Does anyone feel afraid of things that aren’t bad?

‘No.’

Well, is one afraid of things that are bad, but that one is in a position to prevent?

‘Not at all.’
‘Not at all.’

[10] If the things, then, that lie outside the sphere of choice are neither good nor
bad, and those that lie within the sphere of choice are subject to our control, and
no one can either take those away from us or impose them on us unless we wish
it, what room is left for anxiety? [11] But we’re anxious about this poor body of
ours, or our petty possessions, or about what Caesar will think, and not in the
least about the things that lie within us. Are we ever anxious about coming to
accept a false opinion?

‘No, because that is subject to my control.’

Or about coming to have motives that are contrary to nature?

‘No again.’

[12] Whenever you see someone who is pale from anxiety, then, just as a doctor
infers from somebody’s complexion, ‘That man is suffering in his spleen, and
that one in his liver,’ you should declare likewise, ‘That man is suffering in his
desire and aversion; he is not at all well; he is feverish.’ [13] For there is nothing
else that changes a man’s complexion in that way, or makes him shiver, or sets
his teeth chattering, or makes him ‘Shift from leg to leg and squat on one foot
and then the other.’*

[14] Zeno was thus in no way anxious when he was about to meet Antigonus;*
for Antigonus had no power over the things that he valued, and the things that
Antigonus did have power over were of no concern to him. [15] Antigonus for
his part did feel anxious when he was about to meet Zeno, and with good reason,
since he wanted to please him, and that lay beyond his control. But Zeno had no
desire to please Antigonus, any more than any other expert wants to please a
layman. [16] For my own part, do I want to please you? What would I gain by
it? Do you have any knowledge of the standards by which one person can judge
another? Have you made any effort to understand what a good person is, and a
bad one, and how each comes to be as he is? Why is it, then, that you yourself
are not a good man?

[17] ‘And how am I not so,’ he says.

Because no good man grieves or groans or laments, no good man turns pale and
trembles and says, ‘How will he receive me, what sort of a hearing will he give
me?’ [18] He’ll act, you slave, as he thinks fit. Why should you be concerned
about other people’s business? Now isn’t it his own fault if he responds badly to
what you have to say?—‘Surely so.’—Is it possible for one person to make an
error and another to suffer the harm?—‘No.’—Why are you anxious, then, about
other people’s business? [19] —‘Yes, but I’m anxious about how I’ll speak to
him.’—What, isn’t it in your power to speak to him just as you wish?—‘But I’m
afraid that I’ll lose my composure.’ [20] —If you were going to write the name
‘Dion’, would you have that fear?—‘Not at all.’—Why not? Isn’t it because you
have studied how to write?—‘Exactly.’—What, then, if you’re going to read,
won’t you be in the same position?—‘Just the same.’—What is the reason, then?
Why, it is because every art brings a certain strength and confidence within its
own field. [21] Haven’t you studied how to speak? And what else did you study
at school?

‘Syllogisms and equivocal arguments.’

With what end in view? Wasn’t it to enable you to conduct an argument with
skill? Which means being able to do so at the right time, in an assured and
intelligent manner, without making mistakes or being caught out, and in addition
to all this, with confidence?

‘Yes indeed.’

[22] Now if you’re a horseman who has ridden down onto level ground to
confront a foot-soldier, will you feel any anxiety, if you’ve practised this form of
warfare and he hasn’t?

‘Perhaps not, but Caesar has the power to take my life.’

[23] Then tell the truth, you wretch, and instead of bragging as you do, don’t
claim to be a philosopher, and don’t fail to recognize who your masters are, but
as long as you let them have this hold on you through your body, place yourself
at the beck and call of everyone who is stronger than you. [24] Now Socrates
had learned to speak as one ought, to be able to speak as he did to the tyrants, to
his judges, and in prison. Diogenes had learned to speak as one ought, to be able
to speak as he did to Alexander, to Philip, to the pirates, to the man who bought
him as a slave.* [25] Leave these matters to those who are properly prepared for
them, to those with courage. [26] As for you, turn to your own affairs and never
depart from them. Go and sit in a corner, and construct syllogisms, and propose
them to others—‘In you assuredly there is no captain of a state.’*

2.14 To Naso

[1] One day, when a certain Roman had come in with his son and was listening
to one of his lectures, Epictetus said, This is the character of my teaching, but
then fell silent. [2] But when the man asked him to continue, he went on: When
one is trying to pass on knowledge of any art, it is tiresome for a layman who is
unacquainted with it. [3] The products of the arts, however, immediately reveal
what use they are in relation to the end that they have been made to serve, and in
most cases, moreover, they have a certain appeal and charm. [4] Although it is
none too enjoyable, for instance, to stand by and watch how a shoemaker learns
his art, the shoe that he makes is useful, and is, besides, not unattractive to look
at. [5] And the way in which a carpenter learns his work is altogether tiresome to
observe for a layman who happens to be there, but the products of his work
reveal the usefulness of his art. [6] You will find this even more apparent in the
case of music. If you’re present when someone is being taught that art, the
process will strike you as the most unpleasant of all to observe, and yet the
products of the art of music are most appealing to laymen, and a delight to hear.

[7] So also in our case, we picture the work of the philosopher as being
something like this, that he should adapt his own will to what comes about so
that nothing happens against our will, and so that nothing fails to happen when
we want it to happen. [8] It follows that those who have engaged properly in this
task will never be disappointed in their desires, or fall into what they want to
avoid, but will live a life free from pain, fear, and distress, and will maintain,
furthermore, in their social dealings, both their natural and their required
relationships, as son, father, brother, citizen, man, woman, neighbour, fellow-
traveller, ruler, and subject.

[9] The task of the philosopher we picture, then, as being something of that kind.
The next thing that we need to examine is how this may be accomplished. [10]
Now, we see that a carpenter becomes a carpenter by acquiring a certain kind of
knowledge, and that a pilot becomes a pilot by acquiring a certain kind of
knowledge. In view of that, isn’t it likely that in our case too, it can’t be
sufficient merely to want to become a virtuous and good person, but that it is
also necessary to acquire some kind of knowledge? So we must try to find out
which. [11] The philosophers say that the first thing that needs to be learned is
the following, that there is a God, and a God who exercises providential care for
the universe, and that it is impossible to conceal from him not only our actions,
but even our thoughts and intentions. The next thing to be considered is what the
gods are like; [12] for whatever they’re discovered to be, one who wishes to
please and obey them must try to resemble them as far as possible. [13] If the
deity is trustworthy, he too must be trustworthy; if free, he too must be free; if
beneficent, he too must be beneficent; if magnanimous, he too must be
magnanimous. And so thenceforth, in all that he says and does, he must act in
imitation of God.

[14] ‘Where are we to start, then?’

If you’ll agree, I’ll tell you that you must start by understanding the meaning of
terms.

[15] ‘So you mean to say that I don’t understand them at present?’

Indeed you don’t.

‘Then how is it that I can make use of them?’

You use them in the same way as illiterate people use written speech, and cattle
use sense-impressions; for use is one thing, and understanding is another. [16] If
you imagine, however, that you have the necessary understanding, take any term
you wish, and let’s put ourselves to the test to see if we understand it.

[17] ‘But it’s tiresome to be subjected to such an examination when one’s

already of quite an age, and, as it happens, one has served in three campaigns.’

[18] I know that very well, since you came to me just now like a man who
doesn’t stand in need of anything. After all, what could you even suppose that
you have need of? You’re wealthy, you quite possibly have a wife and children
and any number of servants. Caesar knows you, you have plenty of friends in
Rome, you fulfil your duties, you know how to repay a favour and avenge an
injury. [19] What is it that you lack? So if I show you that you lack what is most
essential and important for happiness, and that up until now you have occupied
yourself with everything other than what is proper for you, and I should add, to
cap it all, that you know neither what God is, nor what a human being is, nor
what is good, nor what is bad [20] —if I say that you’re ignorant of these other
matters, you may perhaps be able to put up with that, but if I say that you don’t
even know yourself, how will you be able to bear with me and submit to my
questioning, and stay in this room? [21] In no way, you’d immediately take
offence and leave. And yet, what wrong have I done you? None, unless a mirror
also wrongs an ugly man by showing him what he looks like; and unless a doctor
can be thought to be insulting a patient when he says to him, ‘You think there’s
nothing wrong with you, my friend, but you have a fever. Eat nothing today, and
drink water alone.’ No one would think fit to cry out here, ‘What insufferable
impertinence!’; [22] yet if you say to somebody, ‘Your desires are inflamed,
your aversions are low, your purposes are inconsistent, your motives are out of
harmony with nature, your opinions are ill-considered and mistaken,’ he
immediately walks out, exclaiming, ‘You’ve insulted me!’

[23] Our situation is like that at a festival.* Sheep and cattle are driven to it to be
sold, and most people come either to buy or to sell, while only a few come to
look at the spectacle of the festival, to see how it is proceeding and why, and
who is organizing it, and for what purpose. [24] So also in this festival of the
world. Some people are like sheep and cattle and are interested in nothing but
their fodder; for in the case of those of you who are interested in nothing but
your property, and land, and slaves, and public posts, all of that is nothing more
than fodder. [25] Few indeed are those who attend the fair for love of the
spectacle, asking, ‘What is the universe, then, and who governs it? No one at all?
[26] And yet when a city or household cannot survive for even a very short time
without someone to govern it and watch over it, how could it be that such a vast
and beautiful structure could be kept so well ordered by mere chance and good
luck? [27] So there must be someone governing it. What sort of being is he, and
how does he govern it? And we who have been created by him, who are we, and
what were we created for? Are we bound together with him in some kind of
union and interrelationship, or is that not the case?’

[28] Such are the thoughts that are aroused in this small collection of people; and
from then on, they devote their leisure to this one thing alone, to finding out
about the festival before they have to take their leave. [29] What comes about,
then? They become an object of mockery for the crowd, just as the spectators at
an ordinary festival are mocked by the traders; and even the sheep and cattle, if
they had sufficient intelligence, would laugh at those who attach value to
anything other than fodder!

2.15 To those who hold stubbornly to certain decisions that they

 have reached

[1] Some people, when they hear such arguments as these, that one should be
steadfast, that choice is free by nature and not subject to constraint, whereas
everything else is subject to hindrance and constraint, and in bondage and
subject to others, imagine that they must always adhere unswervingly to every
judgement that they have formed. [2] But it is necessary first of all that the
judgement should be a sound one. Yes, I want the body to be strong, but with a
vigour of the kind that is found in a healthy man, an athlete; [3] but if you show
me that you have the vigour of a madman and boast about that, I’ll tell you,
‘Find someone to cure you, man, this isn’t vigour but just another kind of
enervation.’

[4] It is something of this kind that people feel in their mind when they
misinterpret these arguments. Thus, a friend of mine decided, for no proper
reason, to starve himself to death. [5] I heard of this when he was already in that
third day of his fast, and went and asked him what had happened. [6] ‘I’ve
decided to take this course,’ he said. Yes, but all the same, what was it that
moved you to do so? If your decision is justified, look, here we are at your side
and ready to help you on your way; but if your decision is unreasonable, you
ought to change it. [7] —‘We ought to hold to our decisions.’—What are you up
to, man? Not to every decision, but to those that are justified. If you now arrive
at the notion, for instance, that night has come, don’t change your opinion if it
pleases you to think that, but hold to it and say that one ought to hold to what
one has decided! [8] Don’t you wish to lay a firm foundation at the beginning,
by examining whether or not your decision is sound, and then go on to establish
your firm and unwavering resolve on that foundation? [9] But if you lay down a
rotten and crumbling foundation, you shouldn’t try to build on that, but the
bigger and stronger the edifice that you heap upon it, the sooner it will come
tumbling down. [10] Without any reason at all, you’re removing from the world
a friend, a companion, a fellow citizen of the great city and the small. [11] What
is more, while carrying out a murder and destroying a man who has committed
no wrong, you say that you must hold to your decisions! [12] If the idea
happened to enter your head to kill me, would you still have to hold to your
decision?

[13] With some difficulty, it proved possible to change this man’s mind; but
there are some people nowadays who aren’t open to persuasion. So I think that I
can now understand, as formerly I couldn’t, the meaning of the proverb ‘A fool
can be neither bent nor broken’. [14] May heaven preserve me from having for a
friend a ‘sage’ who is no better than a fool! Nothing could be more difficult to
deal with. ‘I’ve made my decision.’ Why, so have madmen too, and the more
firmly they hold to their baseless decisions, the more they stand in need of a dose
of medication! [15] Why won’t you act like someone who is ill and call for a
doctor? ‘I’m ill, sir, come to my aid; look and see what I ought to do; it’s for me
to obey you.’

[16] So also in the present case. ‘I don’t know what I ought to do and I’ve come
to find out.’ But no, he says instead, ‘Talk to me about other things, I’ve made
up my mind about this.’ [17] About what other things? What could be more
important and valuable than to persuade you that it is not enough to make a
decision and refuse to change it. That is the strength of a madman and not of a
healthy man. [18] ‘I’m willing to die, if you compel me to it.’ Why, man? What
has happened? ‘I’ve made up my mind.’ It’s lucky you haven’t decided to put
me to death! [19] ‘I won’t accept any pay.’ Why? ‘I’ve made up my mind.’ You
may be sure of this, that there is nothing to prevent you from yielding to an
irrational inclination one day to accept the money, and then with the same
strength that you’re now applying in refusing to accept it, you’ll say once again,
‘I’ve made up my mind’; [20] for just as in a sick body that is suffering from a
flux of humours, the flux will incline now in one direction, now in another, so
also in the case of an enfeebled mind, one can never be sure in what direction it
is tending; but if strength is added to this inclination and flux, the evil will
become fixed beyond help and cure.

2.16 That we fail to practise the application of our judgements about

things that are good and bad

[1] Where does the good lie? ‘In choice.’ Where does the bad lie? ‘In choice.’
And that which is neither good nor bad? ‘In things that lie outside the sphere of
choice.’

[2] Well then, who of us remembers these principles outside this room? Who of
us practises of his own accord to respond to facts in the same way as he would
respond to these questions: ‘It is day, isn’t it?’—‘Yes.’—‘Well, is it
night?’—‘No.’—‘Or again, are the stars even in number?’—‘I can’t say.’

[3] When you’re shown some money, have you trained yourself to make the
right response, that ‘It is not a good thing’? Have you trained yourself in replies
of this kind, or merely in replying to sophistic arguments? [4] Why should you
be surprised, then, that you excel in the areas in which you have practised, while
you remain exactly the same in those in which you haven’t? [5] Why is it, for
instance, that an orator who knows that he has written a good speech, and has
fixed it in his memory, and is bringing an attractive voice to the task, still feels
anxious nonetheless? Because he is not content merely to practise his art. [6]
What else does he want, then? To receive praise from his audience. Now the
matter in which he has trained himself is to be able to practise his art, and he has
never trained himself to deal with praise and censure. [7] For when has he heard
anything from anyone about what praise is, and what censure is, and what is the
nature of each? And what kinds of praise are worth seeking, and what kinds of
disapproval are to be avoided? When has he ever undergone any course of
training with regard to these principles? [8] Why are you still surprised, then,
that he excels other people in the areas in which he has studied and learned, but
is no different from the multitude in those in which he has not? [9] He is rather
like a lyre-player who knows how to play his instrument, and sings well and has
fine robes to wear, but trembles nonetheless when he has to come on stage. Yes,
he knows all of that, but he doesn’t know what a crowd is, or understand the
nature of its shouts and jeers. [10] He doesn’t know, indeed, what this anxiety
itself is, and whether we ourselves are responsible for it or other people are, and
whether or not it lies in our power to put a stop to it. And so he leaves the stage
puffed up with pride if he receives applause, but his conceit is soon pricked and
deflated if he meets with jeers.

[11] We too experience something of this kind. What do we admire? Externals.

What do we make the prime object of our concern? Externals. And then we’re
unable to grasp how it is that we fall prey to fear, or fall prey to anxiety. [12]
What else could possibly come about when we regard things that bear down on
us as being bad? We can’t fail to be afraid, we can’t fail to be anxious. [13] And
then we say, ‘Lord God, how can I break free of anxiety?’ Can it be that you
have no hands, fool? Perhaps God didn’t make any for you? Then sit down and
pray that your nose doesn’t run! Or rather, wipe your nose and stop making
accusations.

What, has God given you nothing to help you in this predicament? [14] Hasn’t
he given you endurance? Hasn’t he given you greatness of soul? Hasn’t he given
you courage? And yet, being equipped with the hands that you have, do you still
look for someone else to wipe your nose? [15] But we devote no effort to any of
this, we pay no attention to it.

Come now, show me a single person who cares how he does what he does, and
is concerned not about the result that he can achieve, but about the action itself.
Who, when walking around, is concerned about the action itself? Who, when
deliberating, is concerned about the deliberation itself, rather than the result that
he is hoping to attain through it? [16] If he attains that result, he is full of pride
and says, ‘Our deliberations have turned out well!’ Didn’t I tell you, brother, that
it is impossible for something not to turn out well when we’ve properly
considered it? But if the matter turns out differently than he’d wanted, the poor
wretch is cast into dejection, and can find no possible explanation for what has
come about. Who of you has never called on the help of a diviner in cases such
as this? [17] Who of you has never slept in a temple* to find out the right course
of action? Who? Show me just a single man, so that I may see that man whom
I’ve been seeking for so long, one who is truly noble-minded and gifted; whether
he be young or old, show him to me.

[18] Why are we still surprised, then, that if we’re engrossed with material
things, we’re mean, disgraceful, worthless, cowardly, and listless in our actions,
and turn out to be complete failures? For we’ve never paid any attention to these
matters and don’t take any trouble over them. [19] If it hadn’t been death or
banishment that we were afraid of, but fear itself, we would have trained
ourselves not to fall into those states of mind that seem bad to us. [20] But as
things are, we’re animated and glib in the schoolroom, and if the smallest
question arises about any of these matters, we’re able to work out the logical
consequences; but drag us into any practical action, and you’ll find us to be
miserably shipwrecked. Only let a disturbing impression assail us and you’ll
know what we’ve been studying, and what we’ve been training for! [21] And
thus, because of our lack of practice, we’re always piling up difficulties for
ourselves and imagining them to be greater than they really are. [22] So, when I
sail out to sea, and I peer down into the depths, or look at the waters all around
and see no sign of land, I immediately lose my composure, and imagine that I’ll
have to swallow all that sea-water if the ship goes down; it never occurs to me
that three pints would be enough! What is it, then, that is troubling my mind?
The sea? No, my own judgement. [23] Or again, when there is an earthquake, I
imagine that the whole town is about to crash down on me. And yet, wouldn’t
one small stone be enough to knock my brains out?

[24] What is it, then, that weighs down on us and makes us lose our minds?
What else than our judgements? For when someone leaves his country and
becomes separated from everything that he is accustomed to, comrades, places,
and social relationships, what else weighs down on him than his judgement? [25]
When infants begin to cry because their nurse has gone some small distance
away, they have only to receive a piece of honey-cake to forget their distress.
[26] Do you wish, then, that we too should be like little children? No, by Zeus.
For it is not a cake that should have this effect on us, I think, but true
judgements. [27] And what are they? Those that a person should reflect upon all
day long, so that, feeling no attachment to anything that is not his own, whether
comrade, or place, or gymnasium, or indeed his own body, he may keep the law
constantly in mind and have it forever before his eyes. [28] What law? That of
God; to preserve what is his own, and not lay claim to what is not his own, but to
make use of what is granted to him, and not long for what is not granted; if
anything is taken away from him, to surrender it willingly, and be grateful for
the time in which he has enjoyed the use of it—if you don’t want to be crying
after your nurse and mummy! [29] For what difference does it make what we
become subjected to and come to depend on? How are you superior to a man
who weeps over a girl if you weep for a wretched gymnasium, or colonnade, or
bunch of young men, and other such things to take up your time? [30] Someone
else comes along and laments that he can no longer drink the waters of Dirce.
And yet, is the water of the Marcian aqueduct* any worse than that of the
Dircean spring?

‘But I was used to that.’

And you’ll get used to this water in turn; [31] and then, if you allow yourself to
get attached to something like that, weep for that in turn, and try to compose a
verse like that of Euripides, ‘The baths of Nero and the Marcian water.’* See
how a tragedy arises when fools are affected by everyday events! [32] ‘Ah, when
shall I see Athens and the Acropolis once again!’ Poor wretch, aren’t you
contented with what you see every day? Can you see anything better or greater
than the sun, the moon, the stars, the entire earth, the sea? [33] And if you
understand the one who governs the universe, and carry him around within you,
why should you still yearn for some pieces of stone and a pretty rock?* What
will you do, then, when you have to leave even the sun and the moon? Will you
sit down and weep like a small child? [34] What did you do at school, then; what
did you hear; what did you learn? Why do you mark yourself down as a
philosopher when you might have recorded the truth by writing, ‘I’ve studied a
few introductory works and I’ve read a bit of Chrysippus, but I haven’t even
passed through the door of philosophy. [35] What part could I indeed play in that
enterprise in which Socrates played such a part, to die as he died and live as he
lived? And in which Diogenes played such a part?’ [36] Can you imagine either
of them weeping or becoming aggravated because he’ll no longer be seeing
someone or other, or because he’ll no longer be living at Athens or Corinth but
at Susa, perhaps, or Ecbatana? [37] If he is free to leave the banquet whenever
he pleases and abandon the game, will such a man lament while he remains?
Won’t he stay as one does in a game, only as long as it continues to amuse him?
[38] Such a man could surely face up to permanent exile, or to death, if he were
to be condemned to that. [39] Aren’t you willing to be weaned at last, as children
are, and take in more solid food, without crying out for their mummies and
nurses.

[40] ‘But if I go away, I’ll distress them.’

What, you’ll cause distress to them? In no way, but rather, as in your own case,
it will be their own judgement that brings that about. What is to be done, then?
You must get rid of this judgement, and they for their part, if they so wish,
would do well to get rid of theirs; or otherwise, it will be their fault if they
grieve. [41] As the expression goes, be ready to lose your head, man, for the
sake of happiness, for the sake of freedom, for the sake of greatness of soul.
Raise up your head at last as one who has been freed from slavery; [42] dare to
raise up your eyes towards God and say to him, ‘Use me just as you will from
this time onward; I’m of one mind with you; I’m yours. I refuse nothing that
seems good to you. Lead me where you will, wrap me in whatever clothes you
wish. Is it your wish that I should hold office, or remain a private citizen, that I
should stay here, or go into exile, that I should be poor, or rich? I’ll defend you
before my fellow men in every case; [43] I’ll show what the true nature of each
thing is.’

[44] No, but rather, go and sit inside like a girl, and wait for your mummy to
come and feed you. If Heracles* had sat around at home with his family, what
would he have been? A Eurystheus, and in no way a Heracles. Come now, as he
travelled through the world, how many comrades did he have with him, how
many friends? But he had no dearer friend than God; and for that reason, he was
believed to be a son of God, as indeed he was. It was accordingly in obedience to
him that he travelled around the world purging it of injustice and lawlessness.
[45] But you’re no Heracles and you can’t purge others of their ills; indeed,
you’re not even a Theseus to be able to purge Attica of its ills. So purge yourself
of your own, and instead of casting out a Procrustes or Sciron,* cast fear and
distress from your mind, along with desire, envy, malice, avarice, effeminacy,
and intemperance. [46] These you cannot cast out in any other way than by
lifting up your eyes to God alone, and devoting yourself to him alone, and
faithfully carrying out his commands. [47] If you wish for anything else, though,
you’ll end up following, with groans and laments, whatever is stronger than you
are, because you’ll always be seeking your happiness in things outside yourself,
without ever being able to find it; for you’re looking for happiness where it is
not to be found, and are failing to search for it where it actually lies.

2.17 How we should adapt our preconceptions to particular cases

[1] What is the first task for someone who is practising philosophy? To rid
himself of presumption: for it is impossible for anyone to set out to learn what
he thinks he already knows. [2] When we go to visit philosophers, we all chatter
freely about what one should do or not do, about good and bad, or about what is
right or wrong, and so apportion praise and blame, criticism and reproach, and
distinguish some actions as being admirable and others as shameful. [3] But
what is it that we go to philosophers for? To learn what we don’t suppose that
we know. And what is that? General principles. Some like to learn what
philosophers are saying because they expect it to be sharp and witty, and others
because they hope to gain some profit from it. [4] Now it is ridiculous to
suppose that when somebody wants to learn one thing, he will in fact learn
something else, or, moreover, that he will make progress in things that he
doesn’t learn. [5] But most people make the same mistake as the orator
Theopompus, who criticized Plato for wanting to define each particular term. [6]
What did he say, then? ‘Before you came along, did no one ever use the words
“good” or “just”? Or did we merely utter them as empty sounds devoid of
meaning, without understanding what each of them meant?’ [7] Why, who has
ever told you, Theopompus, that we don’t have natural ideas and preconceptions
relating to each of these terms? But it is impossible for us to adapt these
preconceptions to the corresponding realities unless we have subjected them to
systematic examination, to determine which reality should be ranged under
which preconception.

[8] One could, for instance, say the same kind of thing to doctors too: ‘Did none
of us talk about being “healthy” or “diseased” before Hippocrates came along?
Or were we merely uttering empty sounds when doing so?’ [9] The fact is that
we have a certain preconception of what it means to be ‘healthy’ too, but aren’t
able to apply it properly. That is why one person says, ‘Continue with the diet,’
while another says, ‘Give him some food now,’ or one says, ‘Bleed him,’ while
another says, ‘Apply a cupping-glass.’ And what is the reason? Is it anything
other than the fact that we’re unable to apply our preconceived idea of the
‘healthy’ to particular cases?

[10] The same also applies to the affairs of life. Who among us doesn’t talk
about ‘good’ and ‘bad’, and about what is ‘advantageous’ or ‘disadvantageous’?
For who among us doesn’t have a preconception of each of these things? Is it
properly understood, however, and complete? Show me that it is. [11] How am I
to show that? By applying it properly to particular cases. Plato, for instance,
classifies his definitions under the preconception of the ‘useful’, but you under
that of the ‘useless’. [12] Now is it possible that both of you could be right? How
could it be? Or again, with regard to wealth, doesn’t one person apply the
preconception of the ‘good’ to it, while another doesn’t? And likewise with
regard to pleasure, and likewise with regard to health? [13] In general, then, if all
who utter these terms possessed more than an empty knowledge of each, and we
didn’t need to set to work to make a systematic examination of our
preconceptions, why do we disagree, why do we come into conflict, why do we
criticize one another?

[14] And yet why do I need to point to this mutual conflict and call that to mind?
For in your own case, if you know how to apply your preconceptions properly,
why is it that you are troubled, that you are frustrated? [15] For the present, let’s
leave aside the second field of study, relating to motives and how they may be
appropriately regulated; and let’s also leave aside the third, relating to assent.
[16] I’ll let you off all of that. Let’s concentrate on the first field,* which will
provide us with almost palpable proof that you don’t know how to apply your
preconceptions properly. [17] Do you presently desire what is possible, and what
is possible for you in particular? Why, then, are you frustrated? Why are you
troubled? Aren’t you presently trying to avoid what is inevitable? Why do you
fall, then, into difficulties of any kind, why do you suffer misfortune? Why is it
that when you want something, it doesn’t come about, and when you don’t want
it, it comes about? [18] For that is a very strong proof that you’re in a troubled
and unfortunate state. I want something and it doesn’t come about: who could be
more wretched than I? I don’t want something and it comes about: who could be
more wretched than I? [19] It was because she was unable to endure this that
Medea murdered her children. And in this regard at least, she showed a certain
greatness of mind, in having a due conception of what it means to be
disappointed in one’s desire. [20] ‘Well then, I’ll exact vengeance in this way on
the man who has wronged and insulted me. And what shall I gain from putting
him into such a miserable plight? How can it be achieved? I’ll kill my children.
By doing that, I’ll also be punishing myself. But what do I care?’* [21] This is
the error of a mind that was endowed with great inner strength. For she didn’t
know where the power lies to do what we wish, that it can’t be acquired from
outside ourselves, or through the alteration and rearranging of things. [22] Have
no desire for that man, and nothing that you desire will fail to come about. Don’t
wish at any price that he should continue to live with you, don’t wish that you’ll
be able to remain in Corinth, and, in a word, don’t wish for anything other than
what God wishes. And who will be able to obstruct you then, who will be able to
constrain you? No one at all, any more than he could obstruct or compel Zeus.

[23] When you have such a leader, and conform your will and desires to his,
what reason do you still have to fear that you may not succeed? [24] Attach your
desire and aversion to wealth and property, and you’ll fail to get what you desire,
and you’ll fall into what you want to avoid. Attach them to health, and you’ll fall
into misfortune, and likewise if you attach them to public office, honours, your
country, friends, children, and, in a word, to anything that lies outside the sphere
of choice. [25] No, you should attach them, rather, to Zeus, and the other gods.
Consign them to their care, for them to govern, and to be ordered in accordance
with their will; [26] and how will you then be troubled any longer? But if you
continue to feel envy, poor wretch, and pity, jealousy, and fear, and never let a
day pass by without lamenting within yourself and before the gods, how can you
still claim to have received a proper education? [27] What sort of education,
man? Because you’ve handled syllogisms and equivocal arguments? Aren’t you
willing to unlearn all of that, if it is possible, and start afresh from the beginning,
in the realization that as yet you haven’t even scratched the surface; [28] and
then, starting off from this point, build everything up in due order, so that
nothing may come about against your wish, and nothing that you wish may fail
to come about?

[29] Give me just one young man who has come to the school with this aim in
mind, who has become an athlete in this field of action, and declares, ‘I for my
part bid farewell to all the rest; it is enough for me to live my life free from
hindrance and distress, and to be able to hold my head high in the face of events,
like a free person, and to look up to heaven like a friend of God, showing no fear
of anything that could come about. [30] May one of you show himself to be such
a person, so that I can say, ‘Enter, young man, into what is your own, for you are
destined to become an adornment to philosophy; yours are these goods, yours
these books, yours these discourses.’ [31] And then, when he has laboured in this
fine field of study and proved his mastery, let him come back to me and say, ‘I
want indeed to be free from passion and disturbance of mind, but I also want, as
a pious person, a philosopher, and a diligent student, to know what my duty is
towards the gods, towards my parents, towards my brother, towards my country,
and towards strangers.’ [32] Pass on now to the second field of study; for that
too is yours.

[33] ‘But I’ve already studied this second field. What I wanted was to be secure
and unshakeable in my knowledge of it, and not only when I’m awake, but when
I’m asleep, when I’m drunk, and even when I’m thoroughly depressed.’

Man. You’re a god, to harbour such ambitions!

[34] No, one hears nothing like that, but rather, ‘I want to know what Chrysippus
has to say in his treatise about “the Liar”.’* Why don’t you go off and hang
yourself, you wretch, if that is really what you want? And what good will it do
you to know it? You’ll read the whole book from one end to the other while
grieving all the while, and you’ll be trembling when you expound it to others.
[35] And the rest of you behave like that too. ‘Would you like me to read
something out, brother, and you can do so for me in turn?’—‘My friend, you
write astoundingly well.’—‘And so do you, splendidly, quite in the style of
Xenophon.’ [36] —‘And you in the style of Plato.’—‘And you in the style of
Antisthenes.’* And then, when you’ve recounted your dreams to one another,
you fall back into the same old faults; you have the same desires as before, the
same aversions, the same motives, plans, and intentions, you ask for the same
things in your prayers, and have the same preoccupations. [37] And furthermore,
instead of looking around for someone who could offer you some advice, you
get annoyed if you hear such advice as this. ‘What a mean-minded old man,’ you
say; ‘he didn’t shed a tear when I left, nor did he say, “That’s an awkward
situation you’re going off to face, my son; I’ll light some candles if you come
through safely.”’ [38] Is that the language of a kind-hearted man? It will be a
wonderfully good thing for someone like you to come through safely, and one
that would truly deserve to be greeted with candles! You surely ought to be
absolved from death and disease!

[39] We really must put aside this presumption that we know something
worthwhile, as I’ve already said, before proceeding to philosophy, as we do
when we’re approaching the study of geometry or music, [40] otherwise we’ll
not even come close to making any progress, even if we read through all the
introductions and treatise of Chrysippus, together with those of Antipater and
Archedemus* too!

2.18 How we should struggle against impressions

[1] Every habit and capacity is supported and strengthened by the corresponding
actions, that of walking by walking, that of running by running. [2] If you want
to be a good reader, read, or a good writer, write. But if you pass thirty days
without reading and turn to something else, you’ll notice the consequences. [3]
So also if you lie in bed for ten days, and then get up and try to walk a fair
distance, you’ll see how weak your legs are. [4] In general, then, if you want to
do something, make a habit of doing it; and if you don’t want to do something,
don’t do it, but get into the habit of doing something else instead. [5] The same
also applies to states of mind. When you lose your temper, you should recognize
not only that something has happened to you at present, but also that you’ve
reinforced a bad habit, and you have, so to speak, added fresh fuel to the fire. [6]
When you’ve yielded to sexual desire, don’t count that as being just a slight
defeat, but recognize that you’ve fortified your incontinence, you’ve given it
added strength. [7] For it cannot fail to come about that, as a result of the
corresponding actions, some habits and capacities will be developed if they
didn’t previously exist, while others that were already present will be reinforced
and strengthened.

[8] It is in this way, of course, that moral infirmities grow up in the mind, as the
philosophers explain. For once you’ve come to feel a desire for money, if reason
is brought to bear in such a way as to make us become aware of the evil, the
desire will be suppressed and our ruling centre will be restored to its original
authority; [9] but if you apply no remedy, it won’t return to its original state, but
when it comes to be aroused again by the corresponding impression, it will
become inflamed by desire more rapidly than before. And if this happens
repeatedly, a callus will finally be formed, and the infirmity will cause the
avarice to become entrenched. [10] For if someone has had a fever and then
recovered, he is not in the same state as he was before having the fever, unless
he is completely cured; [11] and something similar happens with affections of
the mind too. Scars and bruises are left behind on it, and if one doesn’t erase
them completely, it will no longer be bruises that are found there when one
receives further blows on that spot, but wounds. [12] If you don’t want to be
bad-tempered, then don’t feed the habit, throw nothing before it on which it can
feed and grow. First of all, keep calm, and count the days in which you haven’t
lost your temper [13] —‘I used to lose my temper every day, and after that,
every other day, then every third day, then every fourth’—and if you continue in
that way for thirty days, offer a sacrifice to God. For the habit is first weakened,
and then completely destroyed. [14] ‘Today I didn’t allow myself to feel any
distress, nor on the following day, nor successively for two or three months, but
kept on my guard when anything happened that might excite distress in me.’
You should know that things are going nicely for you. [15] ‘Today, when I saw
an attractive boy or woman, I didn’t say to myself, “Oh if only one could sleep
with her,” or, “Her husband’s a happy man”; for someone who says that might as
well say, “Happy is the adulterer.” [16] I didn’t even go on to picture what
follows next, the woman being with me, and undressing, and lying down beside
me. [17] I pat myself on the head and say, “Well done, Epictetus, you’ve found a
solution to a clever sophism, even cleverer than the one they call ‘the Master’.”*
[18] But if the girl is willing, and gives me the nod and sends for me, and also
grabs me, and presses herself against me, and I still hold off and prevail, I would
then have resolved a sophism even cleverer that that of “the Liar” or “the Silent
One”!* Now that is something that one could rightly take pride in, rather than in
having posed the problem of “the Master”.’

[19] How is this to be achieved, then? Make it your wish finally to be contented
with yourself, make it your wish to appear beautiful in the sight of God; you
must aspire to become pure in accord with what is pure in yourself and in accord
with God. [20] ‘Then whenever an impression of that kind assails you,’ says
Plato, ‘go and offer an expiatory sacrifice; go as a suppliant to the temples of the
gods who avert evil; [21] it is indeed sufficient merely to withdraw to the
company of wise and virtuous men,’* and to examine their life by comparison
with theirs, whether you choose your model from among the living or from
among the dead. [22] Go to Socrates and watch him as he lies down beside
Alcibiades and makes fun of his youthful beauty; consider what a victory it was
that he won,* as he himself recognized, a victory worthy of Olympia, and how
he thus ranked among the successors of Heracles!* So that, by the gods, one
could rightly greet him with the words, ‘Hail wondrous man!’, rather than those
ghastly boxers and pancratiasts,* and the gladiators who resemble them. [23] If
you muster these thoughts against it, you’ll overpower your impression and not
be swept away by it. [24] But first of all, don’t allow yourself to be dazed by the
rapidity of the impact, but say, ‘Wait a while for me, my impression, let me see
what you are, and what you’re an impression of; let me test you out.’ [25] And
then don’t allow it to lead you on by making you picture all that may follow, or
else it will take possession of you and conduct you wherever it wants. But rather,
introduce some fine and noble impression in place of it, and cast out this impure
one. [26] If you get into the habit of carrying out such exercises, you’ll see what
shoulders you’ll develop, and what muscles, and what strength. But for the
present, all of this is empty talk and nothing more.

[27] Here is the true athlete, one who trains himself to confront such
impressions! Hold firm, poor man, don’t allow yourself to be carried away. [28]
Great is the struggle, and divine the enterprise, to win a kingdom, to win
freedom, to win happiness, to win peace of mind. [29] Remember God, call upon
his aid and support, as sailors call upon the Dioscuri* in a storm. For what storm
is mightier than that aroused by powerful impressions that drive out reason?
What else, indeed, is the storm itself than an impression? [30] For take away the
fear of death, and then bring on as much thunder and lightning as you wish, and
you’ll see what peace and serenity will prevail in your ruling centre. [31] But if
you’re defeated on one occasion and say that you’ll win at some future time, and
then allow yourself to be defeated again, you can be sure that you’ll finally find
yourself in such a wretched and feeble state that, in due course, you won’t even
be aware that you’re acting wrongly, but will begin to put forward arguments to
justify your behaviour; at which point, you’ll be confirming the truth of Hesiod’s
saying that ‘One who delays his work is always wrestling with ruin.’*

2.19 To those who take up the teachings of the philosophers for the
sake of talk alone

[1] The ‘Master’ argument seems to have been put forward on the basis of some
such principles as the following. These three propositions are irreconcilable in
so far as any two contradict the one that is left over: (1) that everything that has
come about in the past is necessarily the case, (2) that the impossible cannot
follow from the possible, and (3) that something can be possible that is not true
at present nor ever will be in the future.

Recognizing this contradiction, Diodorus* relied on the plausibility of the first

two propositions to establish that ‘nothing is possible that neither is nor ever will
be the case’.
[2] Now, of the propositions to be selected, there are some who keep these two,
(3) that something can be possible that is not true at present nor ever will be in
the future, and (2) that the impossible cannot follow from the possible, but reject
this one, (1) that everything that has come about in the past is necessarily the
case. This seems to have been the opinion held by the school of Cleanthes, with
which Antipater* was in full agreement.

[3] Others, by contrast, keep another pair of propositions, (3) that something can
be possible that is not true at present nor ever will be in the future, and (1) that
everything that has come about in the past is necessarily the case, and then assert
that the possible can indeed follow from the possible. [4] But there is no way in
which all three propositions can be maintained at the same time, because they
contradict one another in the manner described.

[5] If someone asks me, then, ‘For your part, which of the propositions will you
keep?’, I’ll reply that I don’t know, but I’ve found that Diodorus kept one pair,
while the school of Panthoides,* I think, and Cleanthes kept another, the school
of Chrysippus another again.

[6] ‘Yes, but what’s your own view?’

I wasn’t made for this, to test my own impression, and then compare what is said
by others and reach my own judgement about the matter. So I’m no different
here from a literary scholar: [7] ‘Who was the father of
Hector?’—‘Priam.’—‘Who were his brothers?’—‘Paris and Deiphobus.’—‘And
their mother, who was she?’—‘Hecuba. Such is the account that I’ve
received.’—‘From whom?’—‘From Homer.* And I think that Hellanicus* has
written about these matters too, and perhaps other authors of that kind.’

[8] So likewise with me when it comes to the ‘Master’ argument, what more can
I say about it? But if I had vanity enough, I might astonish my companions,
especially at a dinner party, by enumerating all the authors who have written
about the subject: [9] ‘Chrysippus has written a wonderful account in the first
book of his treatise On Possibles. And Cleanthes has written a special work on
the subject, as has Archedemus.* Antipater has written about it too, not only in
his treatise On Possibles, but also in a special discourse about “the Master”. [10]
Haven’t you read that work?’—‘No, I haven’t’—‘Do read it, then.’ And what
good will it do him? He’ll have an even bigger store of empty talk and be more
tedious than he is at present. For have you yourself gained anything other than
that by reading it? What judgement have you formed on the subject? Yes, you’ll
talk to us about Helen and Priam and the island of Calypso,* which never
existed and never will exist. [11] In these literary matters, to be sure, it doesn’t
matter greatly if one merely gains a knowledge of the recorded information
without forming any judgement of one’s own. But when it comes to moral
questions, we’re even more inclined to suffer from this fault than with regard to
those literary ones. [12] ‘Talk to me about what is good and bad.’—‘Listen: A
wind bore me far from Ilion to the Cicyonians.’—‘How do you
know?’—‘Hellanicus says so in his History of Egypt.’

[13] ‘Of things that exist, some are good, others bad, and others indifferent. Now
the virtues and everything that partakes in them are good, the vices and
everything that partakes in them are bad, while everything that lies between
these is indifferent, that is to say, riches, health, life, death, pleasure, pain.’* [14]
—‘How did you come to know that?’—‘Hellanicus says so in his History of
Egypt.’ What difference does it make whether you offer that reply or say that
Diogenes* says so in his Ethics, or Chrysippus does, or Cleanthes? For have you
tested any of these ideas for yourself, and formed a judgement of your own? [15]
Show me how you’re accustomed to behave in a ship when confronted with a
storm. Do you remember these theoretical distinctions when the sails are rattling
and some mischievous bystander hears your cries of terror and says, ‘Tell me, by
the gods, what was it that you were saying the other day?’ Is it a vice to suffer a
shipwreck, surely there’s nothing bad in that? [16] Won’t you pick up a piece of
wood to give him a beating? ‘What do you have to do with me, man? We’re
facing death and you come and make jokes!’ [17] And if Caesar sends for you to
respond to an accusation, and you remember these distinctions if, as you’re
entering the room pale and trembling, someone comes up to you and says, ‘Why
are you trembling, man? What does this matter to you? Is it perhaps that in the
palace here Caesar is distributing virtue and vice to those who appear before
him?’ [18] —‘Why are you making fun of me and adding to my troubles?’
—‘But all the same, philosopher, tell me why you’re trembling. Isn’t it that
you’re in danger of death, or imprisonment, or bodily pain, or exile, or disgrace?
Why, what else could it be? Now is any of this a vice, or anything that partakes
of vice? Tell me now, what did you call these things?’ [19] —‘What do I have to
do with you, man? My own ills are quite enough for me.’ And then you’re
speaking rightly, for your own ills are indeed enough for you, your base
character, your cowardice, and the way in which you would bluster when sitting
in the schoolroom. Why do you pride yourself on qualities that you don’t
possess? Why do you call yourself a Stoic?
[20] Observe in this way how you conduct yourselves in all that you do, and
you’ll find out what philosophical school you belong to. For the most part you’ll
discover that you’re Epicureans, or a few of you that you’re Peripatetics,* and
pretty feeble ones at that. [21] For where do you in fact demonstrate that you
consider virtue to be of equal value, or even superior, to everything else? Show
me a Stoic, if you have one among you. Where, or how? [22] Oh yes, you can
show me any number who can recite all the arguments of the Stoics. But can
they recite the Epicurean arguments any less well? And those of the Peripatetics,
can’t they explain those, too, just as accurately? [23] Who, then, is a Stoic? As
we call a statue Phidian if it has been fashioned in accordance with the art of
Phidias,* show me someone who has been fashioned in accordance with the
judgements that he professes. [24] Show someone who is ill and yet happy, in
danger and yet happy, dying and yet happy, exiled and yet happy. Show me such
a person; by the gods, how greatly I long to see a Stoic! But you can’t show me
anyone who has been fashioned in such a way. [25] Show me, at least, one who
is in the process of formation, one who is tending in that direction. Do me that
favour. Don’t grudge an old man the opportunity to see a sight that he’s never
yet seen. [26] Do you imagine that you’re going to show me the Zeus or Athena
of Phidias, a work of ivory and gold? It is a human soul that one of you should
show me, the soul of a man who wants to be of one mind with God, and never
find fault with God or man again, and to fail in none of his desires, to fall into
nothing that he wants to avoid, never to be angry, never to be envious, never to
be jealous, and who—for why must one resort to circumlocution? [27] —wishes
to become a god instead of a human being, and though enclosed in this poor
body, this corpse, aspires to achieve communion with Zeus. Show me such a
person. But you can’t. Why, then, do you deceive yourselves and cheat everyone
else? [28] And why do you dress in a costume that isn’t your own and walk
around in it, as thieves and robbers who have filched titles and properties that in
no way belong to them?

[29] So here I am, your teacher, and you’re here to be taught by me. And this is
the task that I’ve laid down for myself, to set you free from every obstacle,
compulsion, and restraint, to make you free, prosperous, and happy, as one who
looks to God in everything, great or small. And you for your part are with me to
learn these things and put them into practice. [30] Why is it, then, that you don’t
complete this work, if you on your side have the proper resolve, and I on mine,
in addition to that resolve, have the right qualifications for the task? What is
lacking? [31] When I see a craftsman who has his material ready at hand, I wait
to see the final product. Now here is the craftsman, here is the material: what is it
that we lack? [32] Is this something that can’t be taught? No, it can be taught. Is
it that it lies beyond our power, then? No, this alone of all things lies within our
power. To have wealth is not within our power, nor to be healthy, nor to be of
good repute, nor, in short, anything other than to make right use of impressions.
This alone is by nature immune to hindrance and restraint. [33] So why do you
fail to complete the work? Tell me the reason. For it must lie either in me, or in
you, or in the nature of the task. Now the thing itself is possible and is the only
thing that is wholly within our power. It follows, then, that the fault must lie
either in me or in you, or more truly, in both at once. [34] Well then, is it your
wish that we should at last make a start here on carrying out this design? Let’s
lay aside all that we have done up until now. Let’s just make a start, and believe
me, you’ll see.

2.20 Against the Epicureans and Academics

[1] Propositions that are true and evident must necessarily be used even by those
who contradict them; and just about the strongest proof that one could offer of a
proposition being evident is the fact that even one who contradicts it finds
himself having to make use of it. [2] If someone should contradict the
proposition, for instance, that ‘one universal statement is true’, it is clear that he
would be obliged to assert the contrary and say, ‘There is no universal statement
that is true.’ Slave, that isn’t true either. [3] For what else does the assertion
come down to than this, ‘If a statement is universal, it is false’? [4] Again, if
someone should come forward and say, ‘You should know that nothing can be
known, but everything is uncertain,’ or someone declared, ‘Believe me, and it
will be to your benefit, when I say: one shouldn’t believe anyone whatever,’ or a
third, ‘Learn from me, man, that it is impossible to learn anything; [5] I am the
one who is telling you, and I will prove it to you if you so wish.’ Now what
difference is there between these people and (who shall I say?) those who call
themselves Academics. ‘Men, give your assent’, they say, ‘to the proposition
that no one should give his assent; believe us when we say that no one can
believe anyone.’

[6] And Epicurus likewise, when he wants to destroy the natural sense of
fellowship that binds people together, makes use of the very thing that he is
destroying. [7] What does he say, then? ‘Don’t be deceived, man, don’t allow
yourself to be led astray, or be mistaken; there is no natural sense of fellowship
that binds rational beings together. Believe me. Those who say otherwise are
deceiving you and misleading you with false arguments.’ [8] Why is it that you
care, then? Let us be deceived. Will you be any worse off if all the rest of us
remain convinced that we do have a natural sense of fellowship with one
another, and that we ought to preserve it by every possible means? No, your own
position will be all the better, and more secure. [9] Why do you worry about us,
man; why write such lengthy books? Is it for fear that one or other of us may be
deceived into supposing that the gods take care of human beings, or may
suppose that the essence of the good lies in something other than pleasure? [10]
Because if that is the case, you should lie down and go to sleep, and lead the
worm’s life that you’ve judged yourself to be worthy of; eat and drink, and
copulate, and defecate, and snore! [11] What does it matter to you what the rest
of us may think about these things, and whether or not our ideas are sound? For
what do you have in common with us? What, do you worry about sheep because
they offer themselves up to be shorn, to be milked, and finally to be slaughtered?
[12] Wouldn’t it be desirable that human beings could be charmed and
bewitched by the Stoics into offering themselves up to you, and those like you,
to be fleeced and milked? [13] Should you have talked in such a way, indeed, to
your fellow Epicureans? Wouldn’t it have been better to conceal these things
from them and persuade them, above all others, that we’re born as naturally
sociable creatures, and that self-control is a good thing, so that everything should
be reserved for you alone? [14] Or should this fellowship be maintained with
some and not with others? And in that case, with whom? With those who
maintain it in return, or with those who violate it? And who violates it more than
you Epicureans do, who uphold doctrines such as these?

[15] What was it, then, that awakened Epicurus from his slumbers and impelled
him to write what he did? What else than what is most powerful of all in human
beings, nature, who constrains everyone to her will, groan and resist though he
may. [16] ‘For since you hold these antisocial views,’ she says, ‘write them
down and hand them on to others, and stay awake at night because of them, and
so become, through your own practice, the denunciator of your own doctrines.’
[17] Though we speak of Orestes* as being pursued by the Furies and kept from
his sleep, weren’t the Furies and avenging spirits that pursued Epicurus even
more ferocious? They woke him up when he was asleep and would allow him no
rest, compelling him instead to proclaim his own ills, as do madness and wine in
the case of the priests of Cybele.* [18] So mighty and so invincible is human
nature! For how can a vine be moved to act, not like a vine, but like an olive
tree? Or an olive tree in turn, not like an olive tree, but like a vine? That’s
impossible, inconceivable. [19] Neither is it possible, then, for a human being to
lose his human affections altogether, and even men who are castrated can’t have
their desires as men entirely cut off. [20] And so it was with Epicurus: he cut off
everything that characterizes the man, the head of a household, the citizen, the
friend, but the desires that are truly and properly human he couldn’t cut off; for
he couldn’t do that, any more than the lazy-minded Academics can reject their
own sense-impressions and blind themselves, in spite of all the efforts that they
make to that effect.

[21] Oh what a misfortune it is that when man has received from nature
measures and standards for discovering the truth, he doesn’t go on to try to add
to them and make up for what is missing, but does precisely the opposite, and if
he possesses some capacity that would enable him to discover the truth, he tries
to root it out and destroy it.

[22] What do you say, philosopher? What opinion do you hold about piety and
sanctity?—‘If you like, I’ll prove that it’s good.’—Yes, prove it so that our
citizens may be converted and honour the divine, and finally cease to be
indifferent about the most important matters.—‘Do you have the proofs,
then?’—Yes I do, thank goodness. [23] —‘Well then, since you’re so highly
contented with that position, hear the opposite position: that the gods do not
exist, and even if they do exist, they do not concern themselves with human
beings, nor do we have anything in common with them; and this piety and
sanctity that the common run of people talk about is nothing but a lie told by
charlatans and sophists, or, by Zeus!, by lawmakers to scare and deter evildoers.’
[24] —Excellent, philosopher! You’ve rendered a valuable service to our fellow
citizens, and you’ve won back our young men, who were already tending
towards contempt for the divine. [25] —‘So that doesn’t please you, then? Hear
now how justice amounts to nothing, how a sense of shame is mere foolishness,
how a father is nothing, how a son is nothing.’

[26] Well done, philosopher! Continue in this vein, persuade the young men, so
that we may have many more people who think and talk like you. Was it through
principles like these that our wellgoverned cities grew great; was it doctrines like
these that made Sparta what it was? Are these the convictions that Lycurgus*
instilled into its citizens through his laws and programme of education, namely,
that slavery is no more shameful than noble, and freedom is no more noble than
shameful? Those who died at Thermopylae,* did they die by virtue of such
doctrines? And did the Athenians* abandon their city on the basis of any other
principles than these? [27] And then people who talk in this way go on to marry,
and father children, and fulfil their duties as citizens, and get appointed to be
priests and prophets! Priests of whom? Of gods who don’t exist! And they
themselves consult the Pythian priestess, to know her lies and interpret the
oracles to others? Oh what colossal impudence, what imposture!

[28] What are you up to, man? You’re refuting yourself every day, and are you
unwilling all the same to abandon these frigid endeavours? When you eat, where
do you carry your hand to, to your mouth or to your eye? When you take a bath,
what do you step into? When do you call a pot a plate, or call a ladle a roasting
spit? [29] If I were a slave of one of these gentlemen, even at the risk of being
whipped to the bone every day, I would never stop tormenting him. ‘Throw a bit
of oil into the bath, boy.’ I’d take some fish sauce and go and pour it over his
head. ‘What’s this?’—‘I had an impression that was indistinguishable from that
of oil; it was just the same, I swear that by your fortune.’—‘Here pass me the
gruel.’ [30] I’d bring him a dish full of vinegar. ‘Didn’t I ask you for the
gruel?’—‘Yes, master, this is gruel.’—‘But surely it’s vinegar?’—‘Why that
rather than gruel?’— ‘Take some and smell it, take some and taste it.’—‘Well,
how do you know, if it is true that our senses deceive us?’ [31] If I had three or
four fellow slaves who thought in the same way as I did, I’d soon make him
explode with anger and hang himself, or else change his ideas. But as things are,
men like this are making fun of us, they make use of all the gifts of nature while
abolishing them in theory.

[32] Here we have people who are truly grateful and full of reverence! To look
no further, they eat bread day after day and yet have the gall to say, ‘We don’t
know if there’s a Demeter, or Persephone, or Pluto’!* [33] Not to mention that,
although they enjoy the night and day, the changing seasons, the stars, the sea,
the earth, and the help that people provide for one another, they’re not in the
least impressed by any of these things, but merely seek to belch out their little
problems, and after having exercised their stomachs, go off to take a bath. [34]
As for what they’re going to say, and about what, and to whom, and what their
audience will gain from what they say, they’ve never given the slightest thought
to any of that. I very much fear that some noble-minded young man may hear
these doctrines and be influenced by them, and under that influence, perhaps,
lose all the germs of nobility that he once possessed. [35] I fear that we may be
providing an adulterer with grounds for abandoning all shame in his actions; or
that an embezzler of public funds may be able to put his hand on some specious
argument derived from such teachings; or that someone who neglects his parents
may gain additional effrontery from them.
What is good or bad, then, in your opinion, what is right or wrong? This or that?
[36] But what is the use of arguing any further with these people, or giving them
a hearing, or having one’s own say, or attempting to convert them? [37] One
would have much greater hope, by Zeus, of converting sexual perverts than
people who have become so utterly deaf and blind.

2.21 On inconsistency

[1] There are some faults that people readily admit, whereas they admit others
only with reluctance. No one will admit, for instance, to being stupid or
unintelligent, whereas, on the contrary, you’ll hear everyone saying, ‘If only my
luck matched up to my wits!’ [2] They admit readily to timidity and say, ‘I’m
inclined to be a bit nervous, I admit, but you won’t find me to be a fool.’ [3] As
for lack of self-control, no one willingly admits to that, and not at all to being
unjust, or envious, or meddlesome, although most people will admit that they
tend to give way to pity. [4] What reason can be found for this? The principal
reason is that people are inconsistent and confused in their ideas about matters of
good and evil, but the reasons vary otherwise according to the person, although
it can generally be said that people are most unwilling to admit to anything that
they consider to be shameful. [5] Timidity they imagine to be a mark of good
sense, and pity a mark of good feeling, whereas stupidity is something that they
see as being altogether slavish; and offences against society they will not admit
in any circumstances. [6] Now, in the case of most faults, the main reason why
people can be brought to confess to them is that they conceive them as being in
some sense involuntary, as in the case of timidity and pity. [7] Injustice, on the
other hand, isn’t pictured as being in any way involuntary. In jealousy, though,
there is again an involuntary element in most people’s view, and that is
accordingly something that they’ll also admit.

[8] Living as we do among such people, who are so confused, and don’t know
what they’re saying, or what evil they have within them, or where they got it
from, or how they can get rid of it, we should constantly be focusing our
attention, I think, on the following thoughts: ‘Could it be, perhaps, that I too am
one of these people? [9] What kind of person do I picture myself as being? How
do I conduct myself? Is it really as a wise person, as someone who has control of
himself? Can I say for my part that I’ve been educated to face everything that
may come? [10] Is it indeed the case, as is fitting for someone who knows
nothing, that I’m aware that I know nothing? Do I go to my teacher as to an
oracle, ready to obey? Or do I go to the schoolroom like a snivelling child,
wanting only to gain secondhand information, and to understand books that I
didn’t previously understand, and, if the occasion should arise, expound them to
others?’ [11] At home, man, you’ve been boxing with your little slave, you’ve
turned the house upside down, you’ve caused disturbance to your neighbours,
and then you come to me with all the dignity of a sage, and sit down and pass
judgement on how I’ve explained my text, and how—what shall I say?—I spoke
any old nonsense that came into my head? [12] You’ve come here full of envy,
humiliated because nothing’s been sent to you from home, and you sit through
the lesson reflecting about nothing other than how things stand between you and
your father, or you and your brother. [13] ‘What are people saying about me at
home? At this moment they’re thinking that I’m making progress in my studies,
and they’re saying, “He’ll come back full of knowledge.” [14] How I’d like to
return home full of knowledge, but that demands a great deal of effort, and
nobody sends me anything, and the baths are filthy here at Nicopolis, and things
are bad for me at my lodgings, and bad here at the school.’

[15] And then people say, ‘Nobody’s any the better for attending a philosopher’s
school.’ Well, who goes to the school, I ask you, with the intention of attaining a
cure? Who goes there to submit his judgements to purification; who goes there
to become fully aware of what he stands in need of? [16] Why are you surprised,
then, if you go away again with the very same thoughts that you brought when
you arrived here? The fact is that you didn’t come here to lay them aside, or
correct them, or exchange them for others. [17] Oh no, far from it. Consider this
at least, whether you’re getting exactly what you came for. You want to chatter
about philosophical principles. Well then, haven’t you become all the better at
empty talk? Don’t these philosophical principles provide you with excellent
material for making your displays? Aren’t you adept at analysing syllogisms and
equivocal arguments? Haven’t you examined the premisses of the argument of
‘the Liar’, and of hypothetical syllogisms? So why should you still be vexed if
you’re getting exactly what you came for?

[18] ‘Yes, but if my child or brother dies, or if I myself have to face death or
torture, what good will such things do me?’

[19] But was it really for this that you came? Is it for this that you’ve sat down
beside me? Has this ever been the reason why you’ve lit your lamp or stayed
awake at night? Or when you went out for a walk, did you ever set some
impression before your mind, rather than a syllogism, and subject it to
examination together with your companions? When did you ever do anything
like that? [20] And then you say, ‘Philosophical principles are useless.’ Useless
to whom? To those who fail to make proper use of them. Eye salves aren’t
useless to those who rub them in when and as they ought; and jumping-weights
aren’t useless, but merely useless for certain people, while they’re useful, on the
other hand, to others. [21] If you want to ask me now, ‘Are syllogisms of any
use?’, I’d reply that they are, and if you wish, I’ll show you how.

‘But what good have they been to me?’

Man, you didn’t ask whether they’re useful for you, but whether they’re useful
in general. [22] Let someone who’s suffering from dysentery ask me whether
vinegar is useful, and I’ll tell him that it is.

‘Is it useful for me, then?’

I’ll reply, no. Seek first to stop your diarrhoea and heal your little ulcers. And
you too, gentlemen, should first cure your ulcers, stop the discharge of your
humours,* calm your mind, and bring it to school free from distraction; and then
you’ll know what power reason can have!

2.22 On friendship

[1] What one has set one’s heart on, that one naturally loves. Do people set their
hearts on things that are bad? Certainly not. Or on things that mean nothing to
them? No again! [2] It remains for us to conclude, then, that they set their hearts
on good things alone, [3] and if they have set their hearts on them, they love
them too. Whoever has knowledge of good things, then, would know how to
love them too; but if someone is incapable of distinguishing good things from
bad, and things that are neither good nor bad from the one and the other, how
could he still be capable of loving? It is thus to the wise alone that the power to
love belongs.

[4] ‘How so?’, someone says. ‘I’m not wise, and yet I love my child all the
same.’

[5] Goodness me, I’m amazed, to begin with, that you should admit to not being
wise. For what is it that you lack? Don’t you have the use of your senses; don’t
you distinguish between sense-impressions; don’t you supply your body with the
appropriate nourishment, clothing, and shelter? [6] Why do you admit, then, that
you’re lacking in wisdom? It is because, by Zeus, that you’re often led astray by
your impressions, and disturbed by them, and you often allow their
persuasiveness to get the better of you. And so at one time you think them good,
and at another time you think the same things to be bad, and then at another to be
neither good nor bad; and in short, you find yourself exposed to distress, fear,
envy, disturbance, and change. Thus, you admit to being lacking in wisdom. [7]
And aren’t you changeable, too, in what you love? Riches, pleasure, and, in a
word, all external things you sometimes regard as being good and sometimes as
bad; and in your relations with others, don’t you regard the same people as being
good at one time and bad at another, and aren’t you sometimes well disposed
towards them, and sometimes ill disposed, and don’t you praise them at one time
while criticizing them at another?

‘Yes, that’s just how I feel.’

[8] Well then, can someone who has been mistaken about somebody be his
friend?

‘Surely not.’

Or can someone who is liable to change his mind in the choice of a friend show
him true good will?

‘No again.’

[9] Well, haven’t you often seen little dogs fawning on one another and playing
together, which prompts one to exclaim, ‘Nothing could be more friendly’? But
to see what that friendship amounts to, throw a bit of meat between them, and
you’ll know. [10] And likewise, if you throw a small bit of land between
yourself and your son, you’ll know how impatient your son is to see you buried,
and how greatly you in turn long for the death of your son. And then you’ll come
to say, ‘What a child I’ve raised! All this time he’s been longing to see me
buried!’ [11] Throw a pretty girl between you, and both fall in love with her, the
old man and the young; or again a scrap of glory. And if you have to risk your
life, you’ll end up repeating the words of the father of Admetus, ‘You wish to
behold the light, do you think that your father does not?’*

[12] Do you suppose that this man didn’t love his child when it was young,
and that he wasn’t in anguish when it had a fever, and didn’t say many times
over, ‘If only I had the fever instead’? But then, when the test comes and is
getting close, just see what words he comes up with! [13] Weren’t Eteocles and
Polynices offspring of the same mother and father? Weren’t they brought up
together, and didn’t they frequently embrace one another? So that if anyone saw
them together, I imagine, he would have laughed at the philosophers for
expressing paradoxical ideas about friendship. [14] But when the throne was
tossed between them, like a piece of meat, look at what they say:

Eteo.—Where before the walls will you stand?

Pol.—Why do you ask that of me?
Eteo.—I mean to confront and kill you.
Pol.—And that is my desire too.*

[15] For as a general rule—and one should have no illusions on the matter—
there is nothing that a living creature is more strongly attached to than its own
benefit. So whatever seems to him to be standing in the way of that benefit, be it
a brother, or father, or child, or lover, or beloved, he will proceed to hate, reject,
and curse. [16] For there is nothing that he loves so much by nature as his own
benefit; for him this is father, and brother, and family, and country, and god.
[17] Whenever we suppose, then, that the gods are standing in the way of our
interest, we revile even them, and throw down their statues, and burn down their
temples, as when Alexander ordered that the temple of Asclepius should be
burned because of the death of his beloved.* [18] For that reason, if one
identifies one’s own benefit with piety, honour, one’s country, one’s parents,
one’s friends, all of them will be safeguarded; but if one places one’s benefit in
one scale and one’s friends, country, and parents, and justice itself, in the other,
the latter will all be lost, because they will be outweighed by one’s benefit. [19]
For on whatever side ‘I’ and ‘mine’ are set, to that side the living creature must
necessarily be inclined; if they’re in the flesh, it is there that the ruling power
will reside; if in choice, the ruling power will be there; if in external things, it
will be there. [20] It follows that if I am where my moral choice is, in that case
alone will I be the friend, the son, the father that I ought to be. For then it will
benefit me to preserve my trustworthiness, my sense of shame, my patience, my
temperance, my cooperativeness, and to maintain good relations with others.
[21] But if I place myself in one scale, and what is right in the other, the saying
of Epicurus then acquires full strength when he declares that ‘the right is nothing
at all, or at most, is what is valued in common opinion’.*

[22] It was through ignorance of this that the Athenians and Spartans came to
quarrel with one another, and the Thebans with both of them, and the Great King
came to quarrel with Greece, and the Macedonians with both of them, and in our
own time, the Romans with the Getae, while in the remoter past, the events at
Troy owed their origin to the same cause. [23] Paris was a guest of Menelaus,
and anyone who saw the kindness that they displayed to one another would
never have believed anyone who said they were not friends. But there was
thrown between them a tempting morsel, a pretty woman, and the war broke
out* because of her. [24] So when you now see friends or brothers who seem to
be of one mind, don’t be too quick to pronounce on their friendship, even if they
swear to it, even if they declare that it is impossible that they should ever be
parted. [25] For the ruling centre of a bad man can’t be trusted; it is unstable, and
unsure in its judgements, falling under the power of one impression after
another. [26] Don’t try to find out, like everyone else, whether these men had the
same parents, or were brought up together, or had the same attendant during
their childhood, but ask instead this one question alone, whether they locate their
benefit in things outside themselves or in their choice. [27] If they locate it in
external things, don’t call them friends, any more than you call them
trustworthy, or reliable, or courageous, or free; indeed, if you have good sense,
don’t even call them human beings. [28] For it isn’t human judgement that
makes them snap at one another, and abuse one another, and take to the desert or
public places as wild beasts take to the mountains, and conduct themselves like
bandits in the law-courts; it isn’t human judgement that makes them become
dissolute, and turns them into adulterers and seducers, and leads them to carry
out all the crimes that people commit against one another. All of this is brought
about by one single judgement alone, that which incites them to place
themselves, and all that is theirs, in the category of things that lie outside the
sphere of choice. [29] If you hear, on the other hand, that these men truly believe
that the good lies nowhere else than in choice, and in the right use of
impressions, then you need not trouble to enquire any further whether they’re
father and son, or whether they’re brothers, or whether they were at school
together for a long time and are comrades, because even if that is the only thing
that you know about them, you can confidently declare that they’re friends, and
likewise that they’re faithful and just. [30] For where else can friendship be
found than where fidelity lies, and where a sense of shame lies, and where there
is respect for what is right and nothing other than that?

[31] ‘But he’s been taking care of me for so long, and yet didn’t love me?’

How do you know, slave, that he didn’t take care of you as he does when he
cleans his shoes, or rubs down his beast of burden? And how do you know that,
cleans his shoes, or rubs down his beast of burden? And how do you know that,
when you cease to be of any use as a utensil, he won’t throw you away like a
broken plate?

[32] ‘But she’s my wife, and we’ve been living together for so long.’

And how long did Eriphyle live with Amphiaraus, bearing him children too, and
many of them? But a necklace came between them.* [33] What is a necklace? It
is the judgement that one holds about things of that kind. That was the brutish
factor; that was the force that broke the ties of love; that was what prevented the
woman from remaining a wife, and the mother from remaining a mother.

[34] Whoever among you sincerely wants to be friend to another, or to win the
friendship of another, should thus eradicate these judgements, and despise them,
and banish them from his mind. [35] And when he has done so, he will, in the
first place, be free from self-reproach, and inner conflict, and instability of mind,
and self-torment; [36] and, furthermore, in his relations with others, he will
always be frank and open with one who is like himself, and will be tolerant,
gentle, forbearing, and kind with regard to one who is unlike him, as likewise to
one who is ignorant and falls into error on the matters of the highest importance;
and he will never be harsh with anyone because he fully understands the saying
of Plato, that ‘no mind is ever willingly deprived of the truth’.* [37] But if
you’re not like this, you may act in every regard as friends do, drinking together,
living together under the same roof, and sailing on journeys together, and may
even have the same parents, yes, and so may snakes too, but they can never be
friends and neither can you, as long as you hold these brutish and abominable
judgements.

2.23 On the faculty of expression

[1] Everyone will read a book with greater pleasure and ease if it is written in
clearer characters; isn’t it also the case that everyone will listen with greater ease
to discourses that are expressed in elegant and attractive language? [2] One
shouldn’t say, then, that there is no such thing as a faculty of expression, for that
would be to speak as one who is both impious and cowardly. Impious because
one would be slighting gifts bestowed by God, just as if one were to deny the
usefulness of our power of vision, or of hearing, or indeed of speech itself. [3] Is
it, then, for no purpose that God has given you eyes, and for nothing that he has
infused them with a spirit that is so powerful and ingenious that it can reach far
out and gather impressions of the forms of visible objects? What messenger is as
swift and attentive as that? [4] Was it for nothing, furthermore, that God made
the intervening air so active and elastic that vision can pass through it* as
though through some taut medium? Was it for nothing that he made light,
without which all the rest would be useless?

[5] Don’t be ungrateful, man, nor yet forgetful of better gifts than these, but offer
up thanks to God for sight and hearing, and, by Zeus, for life itself and all that
supports it, for dried fruits, for wine, for olive oil, [6] remembering all the same
that he has given you something better than all of these, the faculty that makes
use of them, that tests them out, that passes judgement on the value of each. [7]
For what is it that, with regard to each of these faculties, declares what value it
holds? Is it each faculty itself? Have you ever seen our power of sight make any
declaration about itself? Or our power of hearing? No, rather as servants and
slaves, they’ve been appointed to perform work on behalf of the faculty that
makes use of impressions. [8] And if you ask what is the value of each, of whom
are you asking this? Who is to answer you? How, then, can any other faculty be
superior to that which makes use of all the others as servants, and tests each of
them and passes judgement on it? [9] For which of them knows what it is, and
what its work is? Which of them knows when one should make use of it and
when one shouldn’t? Which of them opens and closes our eyes, and turns them
away from those things that one should turn them away from, and directs them
towards others? Is it the faculty of sight? No, but that of choice. [10] Which is it
that opens and shuts our ears? Which is it that makes us curious and questioning,
or again, unmoved by what people are saying? [11] And when this faculty sees
that all the other faculties are blind and deaf, and are unable to see anything apart
from those acts that they have been appointed to perform in its service and at its
bidding, unless it alone can see clearly, and can embrace all the rest within its
view and determine the value of each, is it likely that it will declare anything
other than itself to be supreme? [12] And what else does the eye do, when open,
than see? But as to whether it ought to look at somebody’s wife, and in what
manner, what tells us that? The faculty of choice. [13] As to whether one should
place any belief in what one is told, or not believe it, and if one does believe it,
whether one should be upset by it or not, what tells us that? Isn’t it the faculty of
choice? [14] And the faculty of expression itself, and of the embellishment of
language, if there is indeed a specific faculty of that kind, what else does it do,
when the discourse touches on some topic, other than embellish the words and
arrange them as a barber does with our hair? [15] But whether it is better to
speak or keep silent, or better to speak in this way or that, and whether this is
appropriate or inappropriate, or what is right moment for each discourse, and
what use it will serve—is there any other faculty than that of choice that can tell
us all of that? Would you have it step forward, then, and pass sentence against
itself?

[16] ‘But what if the matter stands like this instead,’ someone says, ‘and it is in
fact possible for that which serves to be superior to what it is serving, the horse
to the rider, the dog to the hunter, the instrument to the musician, the subject to
the king?’

[17] What is it that makes use of everything else? Choice. What is it that takes
charge of everything else? Choice. What is it that destroys the whole person,
sometimes through hunger, sometimes through a noose, sometimes by hurling
him over a cliff? Choice. [18] Can it be, then, that there is anything more
powerful among human beings than this? And how is it possible that what is
subject to hindrance should be more powerful than something that is not subject
to hindrance? [19] What things are capable by nature of hindering the faculty of
vision? Choice and also things that lie outside the sphere of choice. The same is
true of the faculty of hearing, and likewise that of speech. But what is capable by
its nature of hindering the faculty of choice? Nothing that lies outside the sphere
of choice, but only choice itself when it has become perverted. That is why it
alone becomes vice and it alone becomes virtue.

[20] Well then, since it is so great a faculty and has been set above all the rest,
let it step forward to tell us that the flesh is superior to everything else. No, even
if the flesh proclaimed its own superiority, no one could endure its presumption.
[21] Now what is it, Epicurus, that proclaims that judgement? What is it that
wrote On the End, the Physics, On the Canon?* What is it that prompted you to
grow a philosopher’s beard?* What is it that wrote, when you were on the point
of death, ‘We’re living our last day which is also a happy one’?* [22] Was it the
flesh, or was it choice? And after that, can you admit to having anything superior
to it, if you’re in your right mind at least? Can you really be so deaf and blind?

[23] What, then, is one to despise one’s other faculties? Heaven forbid! Does
one say that there is no use or progress except in the faculty of choice? No,
everything should be accorded its proper value. [24] For even a donkey has its
use, though not as much as an ox has; even a dog has its use, though not as much
as a slave has; and a slave too, though not as much as the other citizens have;
and the citizens likewise, though not as much as the magistrates have. [25] Just
because some things are superior to others, one shouldn’t despise the use that the
others can offer. The faculty of expression has its use too, though not as much as
the faculty of choice has. [26] So when I speak in this way, no one should think
that I’m asking you to neglect the art of speech, any more than I would have you
neglect your eyes or ears or hands or feet, or your clothes and shoes. [27] But if
you ask me, ‘What is the most excellent of all things?’, what am I to say? The
faculty of expression? I cannot, but must rather say the faculty of choice, when it
becomes right choice. [28] For it is choice that makes use of the faculty of
expression, and of all the other faculties, both great and small. If it be rightly
directed, a person becomes good; if it be badly directed, he becomes bad. [29] It
is through choice that we encounter good fortune or misfortune, and that we
reproach one another or are pleased with one another. It is this, in a word, that
brings about unhappiness when neglected, and happiness when properly tended.

[30] But to do away with the faculty of expression, and say that in reality it is
nothing, is not only ungrateful to those who have given it to us, but cowardly
too. [31] For someone who would want to do that seems to me to be afraid that,
if there is any such faculty, we may not be able to despise it. [32] Such is the
case, too, with those who claim that there is no difference between beauty and
ugliness. What, could one be affected in the same way by the sight of Thersites
and that of Achilles? Or by the sight of Helen* and that of some ordinary
woman? [33] No, that is mere foolishness, indicating a lack of cultivation in
people who are ignorant of the specific nature of each reality, and who fear that
if one comes to appreciate its excellence, one will at once be carried away and
placed within its power. [34] No, the important thing is this, to leave each thing
in the possession of its own specific faculty, and then to consider the value of
that faculty, and to learn what is the most excellent of all things, and to pursue
that in everything, and make it the chief object of one’s concern, regarding
everything else as of secondary value by comparison, yet without neglecting
even those other things, so far as possible. [35] For we must take care of our
eyes too, though not as being the most excellent thing, but for the sake of what is
most excellent, because it cannot attain its natural perfection unless it uses our
eyes with prudence and chooses some things instead of others.

[36] What usually happens, then? People behave like a traveller who, when
returning to his homeland, passes through a place where there is a very fine inn,
and because he finds it pleasant, remains there. [37] Man, you’ve forgotten your
purpose, you weren’t travelling to this place, but passing through it. ‘But it’s a
lovely inn.’ And how many other inns are there that are just as nice, and how
many meadows too! But only as places on the way. [38] The purpose that lies
before you is to return to your homeland, to relieve your family from fear, to
fulfil your duties as a citizen, to marry, to have children, to hold public office.
[39] For you haven’t come into the world to pick out the prettiest places, but to
return and live in the place where you were born, and in which you’ve been
enrolled as a citizen. [40] Something much the same happens in the present case
too. It is through the spoken word and instruction of this kind that one must
advance towards perfection, and purify one’s choice, and correct the faculty that
makes use of impressions. Furthermore, the teaching of these principles demands
a certain eloquence, requiring a certain variety and subtlety in the way in which
they’re expressed. [41] So people become captivated by all of this, and stop
short at this point, one being captivated by matters of style, another by
syllogisms, another by equivocal arguments, and another stopping off at another
wayside inn of this kind, and they remain there and rot away, as though among
the Sirens.*

[42] Your purpose, man, was to render yourself capable of using the impressions
that present themselves to you in conformity with nature, and not to fail to attain
what you desire, and not to fall into what you want to avoid, and never to suffer
failure or misfortune, but to be free and immune to hindrance or constraint, as
one who conforms to the governing order of Zeus, obeying it and finding
satisfaction in it, and never finding fault with anyone, and never accusing
anyone, being able to recite these verses with your whole heart, ‘Guide me, Zeus,
and thou, O Destiny.’*

[43] And then, after having adopted this as your purpose, because some little
turn of style strikes your fancy, or certain precepts appeal to you, will you stop
off at that point, and choose to stay there, forgetting all that you have at home,
and saying, ‘What pretty things these are!’ Why, who doubts that they’re pretty?
But only as a place of passage, a wayside inn. [44] For what is to prevent an
orator who could vie with Demosthenes* from being unhappy? And what is to
prevent someone who could analyse syllogisms like Chrysippus from being
wretched, and suffering grief and envy, and, in a word, living in misery and
distress? Nothing whatever. [45] You can see, then, that these were mere inns of
no inherent value, while your aim was something quite different. [46] When I
talk like this to some people, they think that I’m denigrating the study of rhetoric
and of general principles. No, I’m not criticizing that, but only the notion that
people should concentrate excessively on that, and place all their hopes in it.
[47] If anyone causes offence to his audience by putting forward such ideas, you
may mark me down as one of those offensive people; but when I see that one
thing is most excellent and essential, I can’t say that of something else merely to
gratify you.

2.24 To one of those whom he regarded as unworthy

[1] Someone said to him, ‘I’ve often come to you wanting to listen to you, and
you’ve never given me any reply; [2] but now, if possible, do please say
something to me.’—Do you think, said Epictetus, that when it comes to
speaking, there is an art, as in everything else, that enables one who possesses it
to speak with skill, while one who doesn’t possess it will speak unskilfully?
—‘Yes, I think so.’ [3] —That person, then, who by the use of speech brings
benefit to himself, and is able to benefit others, would be speaking with skill,
whereas someone who brings harm to himself and others would be unskilled in
this art of speaking? You would find that some suffer harm while others gain
benefit. [4] And of those who are listening, do all gain benefit from what they
hear, or would you find that some gain benefit from it while others are harmed?
—‘That applies to them too,’ the man said. [5] Just as there is a skill in speaking,
there is also a skill in listening?—‘It would seem so.’ [6] —If you please, also
consider the matter from this point of view. Whose art is it to play a musical
instrument in accordance with the rules of the art?—‘That of a musician.’ [7] —
Very well, and whose part is it, in your view, to make a statue in accordance
with the rules of the art?—‘That of a sculptor.’—And to look at the statue in a
properly appreciative manner, does that also require some kind of skill?—‘Yes,
that requires one too.’

[8] If to speak as one ought requires a certain skill, then, don’t you see that a
skill is also required if one is to listen with benefit? [9] As for what is ultimately
beneficial, let’s leave that aside for the moment, if you please, since both of us
are a long way off from anything like that. [10] But here is something that I
think everyone could agree on, that it requires a good deal of practice in listening
if one is to listen to philosophers. Isn’t that so? [11] What should I talk to you
about, then? Tell me now. What are you capable of hearing about? About what is
good and bad? For whom? A horse?—‘No.’—An ox, then?—‘No.’ [12] —What,
a human being?—‘Yes.’

Do we know what a human being is, then, and what his nature is, and what the
concept of man is? Do we have our ears sufficiently open with regard to this
question? Do you have any notion, indeed, of what nature is, and are you
capable of following me to any adequate degree as I speak? [13] And could I
make use of demonstrations with you? How can I? Do you have any
understanding at all of what a proof is, and how one proves something, and by
what means? Or what things resemble proofs without actually being so? [14] Do
you know what truth is, or what falsehood is? And what follows from what, and
what conflicts with what, or is in opposition to what, or in disaccord with what?
But how am I to excite you to take an interest in philosophy? [15] How can I
show you that a great many people have contradictory ideas, which makes them
disagree about what is good and bad or beneficial and harmful, when you don’t
even know what a contradiction is? Show me, then, what I can achieve by
entering into a discussion with you. Excite a desire in me. [16] Just as the sight
of suitable grass excites a sheep’s desire to eat, whereas if you offer it a stone or
loaf of bread it remains wholly unmoved, so likewise some of us have a natural
desire to speak when a suitable listener appears, and he himself excites that
desire. But if he simply sits at our side like a stone or a clump of grass, how can
he excite any such desire in a man? [17] Does the vine perhaps say to the farmer,
‘Take care of me’? No, it shows by its very appearance that someone who takes
care of it will derive profit from it, and so invites him to take care of it. [18] And
at the sight of little children, with their charming and lively ways, who doesn’t
feel drawn to take part in their games, and to crawl with them and engage in
baby talk? But who feels any desire to play or bray with a donkey? For even if it
is small, it is nothing but a little donkey.

[19] ‘Why is it, then, that you have nothing to say to me?’

I have this one thing alone to say to you, that whoever is ignorant of who he is,
and what he was born for, and in what kind of world he finds himself, and with
what people he is sharing his life, and what things are good or bad and what are
honourable or shameful, and is someone who is incapable of following an
argument or proof, and doesn’t know what is true or false, and cannot
distinguish between them: such a person will exercise neither his desires, nor his
aversions, nor his motives, nor his designs, nor his assent, not his dissent, in
accordance with nature, but being altogether deaf and blind, he’ll go around
thinking that he is somebody when in reality he is nobody at all. [20] And do
you suppose that there is anything new in this? Isn’t it the case that ever since
the human race came into being, it is from this ignorance that all our errors and
all our misfortunes have arisen? [21] Why was it that Agamemnon and Achilles
fell out with one another? Wasn’t it for want of knowing what is beneficial and
what isn’t? Doesn’t one of them say that it is expedient to return Chryseis to her
father, while the other says that it isn’t? Doesn’t one of them say that he ought to
get someone else’s prize, while the other says that he shouldn’t? Wasn’t it
because of this that they came to forget who they were and what they had come
for? [22] Why, what did you come for, man? To acquire mistresses or to fight?
—‘To fight.’—Against whom? Against the Trojans or the Greeks?—‘Against
the Trojans.’—You’re turning away from Hector, then, to draw your sword
against your own king? [23] And you, my good man, are turning away from your
task as a king, ‘To whom peoples are entrusted, and has such great cares’,* and
are exchanging blows, instead, with the most warlike of your allies over a slip of
a girl, when you ought to be treating him with every respect and seeking to
protect him? Will you show yourself to be inferior to a clever high priest, who
treats the noble warriors with every kind of attention? Do you see what kind of
effects are brought about by ignorance of what is expedient?

[24] ‘But I too am rich.’—What, richer than Agamemnon?—‘But I’m handsome

too.’—What, more handsome than Achilles?—‘But I also have fine hair.’—
Didn’t Achilles have even finer hair, which was golden too? And didn’t he comb
it and dress it most elegantly? [25] —‘But I’m strong too.’—Can you lift a stone
of such size, then, as was lifted by Hector or Ajax?—‘But I’m also of noble
birth.’ Have you a goddess for a mother, then, or a son of Zeus for a father? And
what good did that do him when he sat down and wept for his girl? [26] —‘But
I’m an orator.’—And wasn’t Achilles? Don’t you see how he dealt with
Odysseus and Phoenix, who were the cleverest of all the Greeks in the art of
speaking, and reduced them to silence?*

[27] This is all that I have to say to you, and I couldn’t summon up much
enthusiasm even to say that much.

‘Why not?’

[28] Because you haven’t excited my enthusiasm. For what can I see in you to
excite me, as horsemen are excited by thoroughbred horses? Your miserable
body? It’s shameful the way in which you tend it. Your clothing? That, too, is
effeminate. Your bearing, your expression? Nothing there that’s worth a second
glance. [29] When you want to know what a philosopher has to say, don’t ask,
‘Have you nothing to say to me?’, but simply show that you’re capable of
listening to him, and you’ll see how you excite him to speak.
 2.25 On the necessity of logic

[1] When someone who was attending his school said to him, ‘Convince me of
the usefulness of logic,’ he replied: Would you like me to demonstrate it to you?
—‘Yes.’ [2] —Then I must employ a demonstrative argument? And when the
questioner agreed, he asked: [3] How will you know, then, whether I’m trying to
mislead you with a sophism? The man offered no reply. So do you see,
continued Epictetus, how you yourself are conceding that logic is necessary,
since without it you can’t even tell whether it is necessary or not?

2.26 What is the distinctive characteristic of error?

[1] Every error involves a contradiction; for since someone who commits an
error doesn’t want to do that, but to act rightly, it is clear that he isn’t doing what
he wants. [2] For what does a thief want to achieve? Something that is to his
benefit. If theft, then, is contrary to his benefit, he isn’t doing what he wants. [3]
Now every rational mind is by nature averse to contradiction; but as long as
someone fails to realize that he is involved in a contradiction, there is nothing to
prevent him from carrying out contradictory actions; when he becomes aware of
it, however, he must necessarily turn aside from the contradiction and avoid it,
just as harsh necessity forces one to renounce what is false as soon as one
realizes that it is false, although one assents to it as long as its falsity remains
unapparent.

[4] Someone who is skilled in reasoning, and is able both to encourage and to
refute, will thus be able to show each person the contradiction that is causing
him to go astray, and make him clearly understand that he isn’t doing what he
wants, and is in fact doing what he doesn’t want. [5] For if anyone can make that
clear to him, he’ll renounce his error of his own accord, but if you fail to show
him, don’t be surprised if he persists in it, being under the impression that he is
acting rightly. [6] That is why Socrates, placing full confidence in this capacity,
used to say, ‘I’m not in the habit of calling another witness to speak in support of
what I’m saying, but I always remain satisfied with the person who is engaging
in discussion with me, and call on his vote and summon him as a witness, so that
he alone suffices for me in place of all others.’ [7] For Socrates knew how a
rational mind is moved: that being like a balance, it will incline whether one
wishes it or not. Make the ruling centre aware of a contradiction, and it will
renounce it; but if you fail to make it clear, blame yourself rather than the person
whom you’re unable to convince.
 BOOK 3

3.1 On personal adornment

[1] He was visited one day by a young student of rhetoric whose hair was
arranged in a rather too fussy manner, and whose clothing was in general very
showy. Tell me now, said Epictetus, don’t you think that there are some dogs
that are beautiful, and some horses that are, and likewise in the case of every
creature?—‘I do’, the young man said. [2] —Isn’t it true of human beings too,
that there are some who are beautiful and some who are ugly?—‘Absolutely.’—
In calling each of these things beautiful in its own kind, do we do so on the same
grounds in all cases, or on special grounds in each case? [3] Look at the matter
in this way. Since we can see that a dog is fitted by nature to do one thing, and a
horse to do another, and a nightingale, if you like, to do yet another, it wouldn’t
be absurd for one to declare overall that each of them is beautiful precisely in so
far as it best fulfils its own nature; and since each is different in nature, it would
seem to me that each of them is beautiful in a different way. Isn’t that so? The
student agreed.

[4] So what makes a dog beautiful will make a horse ugly, and what makes a
horse beautiful will make a dog ugly, if their natures are indeed different?—‘It
would appear so.’ [5] —For what makes someone a fine pancratiast, I fancy,
doesn’t make someone a good wrestler, and would be absurdly out of place in a
runner; and the same man who appears fine for the pentathlon would appear
quite the opposite for the wrestling?—‘Very true.’ [6] —Then what makes a
human being beautiful is just the same as what makes a dog or horse beautiful in
its kind?—‘Yes, it’s the same.’—What makes a dog beautiful, then? The
presence of a dog’s distinctive excellence. And a horse? The presence of a
horse’s excellence. And of a human being, then? Surely it must be the presence
of a human being’s excellence? [7] So if you want to be beautiful for your own
part, you should strive to achieve this, the excellence that characterizes a human
being.

‘But what is it?’

[8] Consider who it is that you praise when you praise people dispassionately: is
it those who are just, or unjust?—‘Those who are just.’—The temperate or the
intemperate?—‘The temperate.’—The self-controlled or the dissolute?—‘The
self-controlled.’ [9] —You should know, then, that if you make yourself a
person of that kind, you’ll be making yourself beautiful; but if you neglect these
virtues, you’re bound to be ugly, whatever techniques you adopt to make
yourself appear beautiful.

[10] Beyond that, I’m not sure what else I can say to you; for if I say what I
think, I’ll offend you, and if I don’t, think how I’ll be acting, since you’ve come
to me in the hope of gaining some benefit, and I will have brought you none at
all; and you’re coming to me as a philosopher, and I won’t have spoken to you
as a philosopher. [11] Besides, how could it be anything other than cruel for me
to leave you unreformed? If you should come to your senses at some future time,
you’d have reason to criticize me, saying, [12] ‘What did Epictetus see in me,
that when he saw me coming to him in such a state, he left me in the same
shameful condition, without saying so much as a word to me? Did he despair of
me so completely? [13] Wasn’t I young; wasn’t I capable of listening to reason?
And how many other young men there are who commit innumerable errors of
such a kind at that age! [14] I’ve heard mention of a certain Polemo* who, after
having been a thoroughly dissolute youth, underwent a complete transformation.
Granted that he didn’t consider me to be another Polemo, but he might at least
have corrected the way in which I wore my hair, he might have stripped me of
my ornaments, he might have stopped me plucking out my body hair. But when
he saw me looking like a—what shall I say?—he didn’t say a word.’ [15] For my
part, too, I won’t say what it is that you resemble; you’ll say it for yourself when
you return to your senses, and recognize what sort of people they are who
behave in this way.

[16] If you should lay these charges against me at some future time, what
defence would I be able to put forward? Yes, but what if I do speak and he won’t
pay any heed to me? After all, did Laius pay any heed to Apollo?* Didn’t he go
away and get drunk and dismiss the oracle from his mind? What, did that deter
Apollo from telling him the truth? [17] While I for my part have no idea whether
you’ll listen to me or not, Apollo knew perfectly well that Laius would pay no
heed to him, and he spoke all the same. [18] —‘But why did he speak?’—And
why is he Apollo? Why does he deliver oracles? Why has he appointed himself
to that post, to be a prophet and fountain of truth, and have people from the
entire civilized world coming to consult him? And why are the words ‘Know
yourself’ carved on the front of his temple, even if no one pays any attention to
them?

[19] Did Socrates succeed in persuading all who approached him to take proper
care of themselves? Not even one in a thousand. But all the same, since he had
been appointed to this post by the deity, as he himself expressed the matter, he
never abandoned it.* Why, what was it that he said even in front of his judges?
[20] ‘If you acquit me’, he said, ‘on condition that I should no longer act as I do
at present, I won’t accept your offer and won’t cease to act as I do, but I’ll go up
to young and old, and in a word, to everyone I meet, and ask the same questions
as I ask at present, and above all, I’ll interrogate you, my fellow citizens,
because you’re most closely related to me.’* [21] Why are you so meddlesome,
Socrates, why are you such a busybody? What does it matter to you how we act?
‘Why, what are you saying? You’re my companion in life and share the same
blood as me, and yet you neglect yourself, and supply your city with a bad
citizen, your relations with a bad relation, and your neighbours with a bad
neighbour.’

[22] ‘Well, who are you, then?’ Here it is no small thing to reply, ‘I’m he whose
duty it is to take care of human beings.’ For when a lion comes along, it is no
ordinary little ox that dares to confront him, but if the bull comes forward and
confronts him, ask the bull, if you think fit, ‘But who are you?’ or ‘Why do you
care?’ Man, in every species nature produces some exceptional individual, [23]
among cattle, among dogs, among bees, among horses. Don’t say to that
exceptional individual, ‘Who are you, then?’ Or if you do, it will find a voice
somehow or other to reply to you, ‘For my part I’m like the purple in a robe:
don’t expect me to resemble the rest, and don’t find fault with my nature for
having made me different from the rest.’*

[24] What, then, am I a person of that kind? How could I be? And you, are you
the kind of person who is capable of listening to the truth? If only you were! But
all the same, since I’ve somehow been condemned to have a white beard and
wear a rough cloak, and you’re coming to me as a philosopher, I won’t treat you
cruelly or act as if I’d despaired of you, but will say to you, Young man, who is
it that you want to make beautiful? [25] Learn first to know who you are, and
then adorn yourself accordingly. You’re a human being; that is to say, a mortal
animal who has the capacity to make use of impressions in a rational manner.
And what does it mean, to use them rationally? To use them in accordance with
nature and perfectly. [26] What is superior in you, then? The animal in you? No.
The mortal? No. The capacity to make use of impressions? No. The rational
element in you—that is what is superior in you. Adorn and beautify that; but as
for your hair, leave it to him who made it in accordance with his will. [27] Well,
what other names do you bear? Are you a man or a woman? A man. Then adorn
yourself as a man, and not as a woman. A woman is by nature smooth-skinned
and delicate, and if she is covered with hair, she is a prodigy, and is exhibited at
Rome among the prodigies. [28] But the same applies to a man if he is not hairy,
and if by nature he is devoid of hair, he is a prodigy; but if he himself cuts it off
and pulls it out, what are we to make of him? Where shall we exhibit him, and
what announcement shall we post up? ‘I’ll show you a man who would rather be
a woman than a man.’ [29] What a shocking spectacle! There won’t be anyone
who won’t be shocked by such an announcement. By Zeus, I imagine that the
men themselves who pluck out their hair do so without realizing what it is that
they’re doing.

[30] Man, what complaint do you have to bring against nature? That she brought
you into the world as a man? What, ought she to bring everyone to birth as a
woman, then? And in that case, what benefit would it have brought you to adorn
yourself as you do? Why, if everyone was a woman, who would you have been
adorning yourself for? [31] But this wretched thing displeases you, does it? Then
why not make a thorough job of the matter and remove—how shall I put it?—the
cause of all this hairiness? Turn yourself into a woman fully and completely, so
that we may no longer be in doubt, rather than being half-man and half-woman.
[32] Whom do you want to please? The women? Then please them as a man.

‘Yes, but they like smooth-bodied men.’

Go hang yourself. But if they liked inverts, I suppose, you’d become one of
those? [33] Is this your business in life, then; is this what you were brought into
the world for, to make yourself appealing to licentious women? [34] Shall we
make a man like you a citizen of Corinth, and quite possibly a city warden, or
superintendent of the cadets, or general, or president of the games? [35] Come,
even when you’re married, will you continue to pluck out your hairs? For whom,
and to what end? And when you’ve fathered boys, will you introduce them into
the community with their hair plucked out in turn? Oh, what a fine citizen, what
a fine senator, what a fine orator! Is it youths of that kind that we should have
born and reared among us? [36] By the gods, young man, may that not be your
fate! But once you’ve heard what I’ve had to say, go away and tell yourself, ‘It
wasn’t Epictetus who told me all that—for how could he have come up with it?
—but some kindly god speaking through his mouth. For it would never have
entered the mind of Epictetus to say such things, because he isn’t in the habit of
speaking to anyone. [37] Well, let’s obey the god, then, so as not to incur his
anger.’ No, if a raven gives a sign to you through its croaking, it isn’t the raven
that’s giving the sign, but the god through him; and if he gives the sign through
a human voice, will you pretend that it is the person himself who is saying these
things, and so fail to recognize the power of the divinity, and to realize that he
gives signs to some people in one way, and to other people in another way, but
that when it comes to the highest and most important matters, he gives the sign
through the noblest of his messengers? [38] What else does the poet mean when
he says,

Since we ourselves warned him,

By sending keen-sighted Hermes, the slayer of Argos,
To tell him not to slay the man and court his wife.*

[39] And just as Hermes came down to tell these things to Odysseus, so the
gods are now telling you the same by sending Hermes ‘the messenger, the slayer
of Argos’ to warn you not to overturn what is right and good, and not to meddle
with it to no purpose, but to let a man be a man, a woman be a woman, and one
who is beautiful be beautiful as a human being, and one who is ugly be ugly as a
human being. [40] For you yourself are neither flesh nor hair, but choice, and if
you render that beautiful, then you yourself will be beautiful. [41] So far I
haven’t summoned up the courage to tell you that you’re ugly, since I have the
impression that you’d prefer to hear anything rather than that. [42] Consider,
though, what Socrates says to Alcibiades, that most beautiful of men in the
bloom of his youth: ‘Strive, then, to make yourself beautiful.’ What does he
mean by that? Curl your locks and pluck the hair from your legs? Heaven
forbid! But rather, beautify your moral choice, and eradicate your bad
judgements. [43] As for your poor body, how are you to deal with that? In
accordance with nature. Another has taken care of that, leave it to him.

[44] ‘What, should my body be left dirty, then?’

Heaven forbid! But the person who you are and were born to be, keep that clean,
a man as a man, a woman as a woman, and a child as a child. [45] No, but let’s
pluck out the lion’s mane too, so that he may not be left ‘dirty’, and the cock’s
comb, since he for his part too needs to be ‘clean’! Indeed he should be, but as a
cock, and a lion as a lion, and a hound as a hound.
 3.2 What a person must train himself in if he is to make progress,
and that we neglect what is most important

[1] There are three areas of study in which someone who wants to be virtuous
and good must be trained: that which relates to desires and aversions, so that he
may neither fail to get what he desires, nor fall into what he wants to avoid; [2]
that which relates to our motives to act or not to act, and, in general, appropriate
behaviour, so that he may act in an orderly manner and with good reason, rather
than carelessly; and thirdly, that which relates to the avoidance of error and
hasty judgement, and, in general, whatever relates to assent.

[3] Of these, the most important and most urgent is that which is concerned with
the passions, for these arise in no other way than through our being frustrated in
our desires and falling into what we want to avoid. This is what brings about
disturbances, confusions, misfortunes, and calamities, and causes sorrow,
lamentation, and envy, making people envious and jealous, with the result that
we become incapable of listening to reason.

[4] The second is concerned with appropriate action; for I shouldn’t be unfeeling
like a statue, but should preserve my natural and acquired relationships, as one
who honours the gods, as a son, as a brother, as a father, as a citizen.

[5] The third belongs to those who are already making progress, and is
concerned with the achievement of constancy in the matters already covered, so
that even when we’re asleep, or drunk, or depressed, no untested impression that
presents itself may catch us off guard.

‘That’s beyond our powers,’ someone says.

[6] But philosophers nowadays neglect the first and second areas of study to
concentrate on the third, dealing with equivocal arguments, and those that are
developed through questioning, and those that are fallacious, like ‘the Liar’.

[7] ‘Yes, because when one is dealing with these matters, one needs to protect
oneself against being deceived.’

Who must? One who is virtuous and good. [8] Is it in this regard that you fall
short, then? Have you achieved perfection in the other areas of study? When a
bit of money is involved, are you secure against deception? If you see a pretty
girl, can you resist the impression? If your neighbour receives an inheritance,
don’t you feel a bite of envy? And are you lacking in nothing else at present than
unshakeable judgement? [9] Even while you’re studying these topics, you
wretch, you’re trembling with anxiety at the thought that someone may despise
you, and are asking whether anyone is making remarks about you. [10] And if
someone should come and tell you, ‘A discussion developed about who was the
best philosopher, and someone who was there said, “That fellow’s the only true
philosopher”,’ that little soul of yours, which measures hardly an inch, springs
up to become a yard high; but if someone else who was there should say,
‘You’re talking rubbish, that fellow isn’t worth listening to, what does he know?
The first elements of the subject and nothing more,’ you’re distraught, you turn
pale, and immediately exclaim, ‘I’ll show him what sort of a man I am, that I’m
a true philosopher!’ [11] From that very behaviour, it is clear what kind of man
you are! Why do you want to show it in any other way than that? Don’t you
know that Diogenes* showed up one of the sophists in that way, by pointing at
him with his middle finger,* and then, when the man flew into a rage,
remarking, ‘That’s the man, I’ve pointed him out to you!’ [12] For a human
being is not something that can be shown in the same way as a stone or a piece
of wood, by pointing with one’s finger, but when one has shown what his
judgements are, then one has shown what he is as a human being.

[13] Let’s have a look at your judgements too. For isn’t it clear that you set no
value on your own choice, but look beyond to things that lie outside the sphere
of choice, to think about what So-and-so will say about you, and what
impression you make on people, whether they’ll see you as a scholar, or as
someone who has read Chrysippus and Antipater. And if you pass for someone
who has read Archedemus too, you’re over the moon. [14] Why are you still
anxious that you may be failing to show us who you are? Would you like me to
tell you what kind of a man you’ve shown yourself to be? One who presents
himself as base, querulous, quick-tempered, and cowardly, and as one who finds
fault with everything, criticizes everybody, and is never at peace, and is a
braggart. That is what you’ve shown us. [15] Go away now and read
Archedemus; and then if a mouse falls over and makes a noise, you’ll die of
fright. For that is the sort of death that awaits you, the sort of death that—who
was it now?—Crinus* met with. And he too thought very highly of himself
because he could understand Archedemus.

[16] Wretch, aren’t you willing to put aside these things that don’t concern you?
For they’re suitable only for those who can learn them with an untroubled mind,
for those who can rightly say, ‘I don’t give way to anger, distress, or envy; I’m
free from hindrance and constraint. What is left for me to do? I have leisure, I
have peace of mind. [17] Let’s see how one should tackle equivocal arguments;
let’s see how, after having accepted a hypothesis, one may avoid being led on to
any absurd conclusion.’ It is to people of such a kind that these studies belong.
When people are in a good way, it is fitting for them to light a fire, eat a meal,
and, if they care to, even sing and dance; but when your ship is already sinking,
you’re coming to me and hoisting your topsails!

3.3 What is the material that the good person works upon, and what
should be the main object of our training?

[1] The material that the good and virtuous person works upon is his own ruling
centre, as that of a doctor or wrestling master is the human body, and that of a
farmer is his land; and the task of the good and virtuous person is to deal with
his impressions in accordance with nature. [2] Now, since it lies in the nature of
every mind to give its assent to what is true, and to dissent from what is false,
and to suspend judgement with regard to what is uncertain, it lies in its nature
likewise to be moved by desire towards what is good, and by aversion from what
is bad, and to remain indifferent towards what is neither good nor bad. [3] For
just as Caesar’s coinage may not be refused by a banker or a greengrocer, but he
is obliged, if it is presented to him, to hand over what is sold for the price
whether he wishes it or not, the same also holds true of the mind. [4]
Immediately the good appears, it draws the mind towards itself, while the bad
repels the mind from itself. Never will the mind refuse a clear impression of the
good, any more than a man will refuse Caesar’s coinage. [5] On this hangs every
action of both man and god.

That is why the good is preferred above every tie of blood. My father is nothing
to me, but only the good.—‘Can you be so hard-hearted?’—Yes, because that is
my nature; that is the coinage that God has given me. [6] For that reason, if the
good is different from what is right and just, they’re all gone, father, brother,
country, and the rest. [7] What, shall I neglect my own good so that you may
have it, and shall I make way for you? What for? ‘I’m your father.’ But not a
good. ‘I’m your brother.’ But not a good. [8] Yet if we place the good in right
choice, the preservation of our relationships itself becomes a good. And besides,
he who gives up certain external things achieves the good through that. [9] ‘My
father’s depriving me of money.’ But he isn’t causing you any harm. ‘My
brother is going to get the greater share of the land.’ Let him have as much as he
wishes. He won’t be getting any of your decency, will he, or of your loyalty, or
of your brotherly love? [10] For who can disinherit you of possessions such as
those? Not even Zeus; nor would he wish to, but rather he has placed all of that
in my own power, even as he had it himself, free from hindrance, compulsion,
and restraint.

[11] When different people use different coinage, a person offers his money and
takes what can be bought in exchange for it. [12] A thief has come to the
province as proconsul. What coinage does he use? Silver. Offer it to him and
carry away what you wish. An adulterer has arrived. What coinage does he use?
Pretty girls. ‘Take the coin’, the buyer says, ‘and sell me that bit of stuff.’ Give
and buy. [13] Another has a taste for boys. Give him the coin and take what you
wish. Another is fond of hunting. Give him a fine nag or hound, and though with
sighs and groans, he’ll sell in exchange whatever you wish; for another forces
him from within to act in that way, the one who has established the currency.

[14] It is in accordance with this plan of action above all that one should train
oneself. As soon as you leave the house at break of day, examine everyone
whom you see, everyone whom you hear, and answer as if under questioning.
What did you see? A handsome man or beautiful woman? Apply the rule. Does
this lie within the sphere of choice, or outside it? Outside. Throw it away. [15]
What did you see? Someone grieving over the death of his child? Apply the rule.
Death is something that lies outside the sphere of choice. Away with it. You met
a consul? Apply the rule. What kind of thing is a consulship? One that lies
outside the sphere of choice, or inside? Outside. Throw that away too, it doesn’t
stand the test. Away with it; it is nothing to you. [16] If we acted in such a way
and practised this exercise from morning until night, we would then have
achieved something, by the gods. [17] But as things are, we’re caught gazing
open-mouthed at every impression that comes along, and it is only in the
schoolroom that we wake up a little, if indeed we ever do. Afterwards, when we
go outside, if we see someone in distress, we say, ‘He’s done for,’ or if we see a
consul, exclaim, ‘A most fortunate man’; if an exile, ‘Poor wretch!’; if someone
in poverty, ‘How terrible for him; he hasn’t money enough to buy a meal.’

[18] These vicious judgements must be rooted out, then; that is what we should
concentrate our efforts on. For what is weeping and groaning? A judgement.
What is misfortune? A judgement. What is civil strife, dissension, fault-finding,
accusation, impiety, foolishness? [19] All of these are judgements and nothing
more, and judgements that are passed, moreover, about things that lie outside the
sphere of choice, under the supposition that such things are good or bad. Let
someone transfer these judgements to things that lie within the sphere of choice,
and I guarantee that he’ll preserve his peace of mind, regardless of what his
circumstances may be.

[20] The mind is rather like a bowl filled with water, and impressions are like a
ray of light that falls on that water. [21] When the water is disturbed, the ray of
light gives the appearance of being disturbed, but that isn’t really the case. [22]
So accordingly, whenever someone suffers an attack of vertigo, it isn’t the arts
and virtues that are thrown into confusion, but the spirit in which they’re
contained; and when the spirit comes to rest again, so will they too.

3.4 To one who took sides in the theatre in an undignified manner

[1] The governor of Epirus had shown his support for a comic actor in a
somewhat undignified manner, and had been abused in public for doing so.
When he then reported to Epictetus that he had been subjected to abuse, and
expressed indignation at those who had insulted him, Epictetus said: Why, what
was wrong in what they were doing? They too were taking sides, just as you
were, to which the man replied, [2] ‘Is that the way, then, in which one
expresses one’s partiality?’

When they saw you, their ruler, the associate and procurator of Caesar, taking
sides in that way, weren’t they bound to take sides for their own part too in the
same way? [3] Why, if one shouldn’t take sides in such a way, you shouldn’t do
so either; but if one may, why be angry with them because they followed your
example? Who else do the people have to imitate apart from you, their superior?
Who are they going to look at when they go to the theatre, if not at you? [4]
‘Look at how Caesar’s governor is acting as he watches the show! He is
shouting; well, I’ll shout too. He is jumping from his seat; well, I’ll jump up and
down too. His slaves who are scattered around the theatre are crying out; well,
since I don’t have any slaves, I’ll shout as loud as I can to make up for the lot of
them!’

[5] You ought to know, then, that when you enter the theatre, you’re entering as
a pattern and example for everyone else, showing them how they should behave
as spectators. [6] Why did they abuse you, then? Because everyone hates
whatever stands in his way. They wanted one person to win the crown, and you
wanted someone else to win. They were standing in your way, and you in theirs.
It was you who proved the stronger, and they did what they could, by abusing
what was standing in their way. [7] What do you want, then? That you should do
what you please, and they shouldn’t even say what they please? And what is
surprising in that? Don’t farmers revile Zeus when he stands in their way? Don’t
sailors revile him? And when do people ever stop reviling Caesar? What, then, is
Zeus unaware of this? [8] Does Caesar receive no report about what people are
saying about him? What does he do, then? He well knows that if he were to
punish all who abuse him, he would have nobody left to rule. [9] What, then, as
you enter the theatre, ought you to say, ‘Come, let Sophron have the crown’?
No, rather, ‘Come, let me ensure that in this matter, I keep my faculty of choice
in accord with nature. [10] No one is dearer to me than myself; it would thus be
absurd that I should do harm to myself to enable another man to win a victory as
a comic actor. [11] Then who do I want to see winning? Why, the victor: and in
that way, the man whom I want to win will invariably win.’

‘But I want Sophron to get the crown.’

Stage as many contests as you wish in your own house, and proclaim him a
Nemean, Pythian, Isthmian, and Olympic* victor; but in public, don’t claim
more than your due and seize for yourself a right that belongs to everyone; [12]
otherwise you must put up with being abused, because if you act as the crowd
does, you’re placing yourself on their level.

3.5 To those who leave because of illness

[1] ‘I’m ill here,’ someone says, ‘and I want to go home.’

[2] What, were you never ill at home? Don’t you want to examine whether
you’re doing anything that may contribute to the improvement of your choice?
For if you’re not accomplishing anything, it was pointless for you even to come
here. [3] Go away, and attend to your domestic affairs. For if your ruling centre
can’t be kept in accord with nature, your little piece of land at least could be.
You’ll add to your small store of cash, look after your father in his old age, hang
around in the marketplace, hold public office; and being of bad character, you’ll
do everything else badly. [4] But if you can recognize in your own mind that
you’re ridding yourself of some bad judgements, and taking on others in their
place, and that you’ve transferred your centre of concern from things that lie
outside the sphere of choice to those that lie within, and that if you sometimes
cry, ‘Alas!’, it won’t be because of your father or brother, but because of
yourself—what reason is there for you to give any thought to your illness? [5]
Don’t you know that illness and death are bound to overtake us whatever we’re
doing? They seize the farmer at his plough, and the sailor out at sea. [6] And for
your own part, what would you like to be doing when you’re seized by them?
For you surely will be seized by them whatever you’re doing. If you could be
doing something more worthwhile than what you’re doing at present when that
time comes, go and do it.

[7] For my part, I’d wish that death may overtake me when I’m attending to
nothing other than my power of choice, to ensure that it may be unperturbed,
unhindered, unconstrained, and free. [8] That is what I’d like to be engaged in
when death finds me, so that I may be able to say to God, ‘Have I violated your
orders in any way? Have I used the resources that you gave me for anything
other than the purpose for which they were given? Have I misused my senses or
my preconceptions? Have I ever found fault with you in any regard? Have I ever
made any complaint against your government? [9] I fell ill when you wished it;
so did others too, but I did so willingly. I suffered poverty because you wished it,
but I rejoiced in it. I didn’t hold public office since that wasn’t your wish, and I
never desired it. Have you ever seen me in any way dejected because of that?
Haven’t I always presented myself to you with a face shining with joy, ready to
carry out whatever you might command, and to obey your least signal? [10] It is
now your wish that I should leave the festival, and I take my leave, full of
gratitude that you should have judged me worthy of taking part in this festival
with you, and of viewing your works and understanding your governing order.’
[11] May I be thinking such thoughts, writing such thoughts, reading such
thoughts, when death overtakes me!

[12] ‘But my mother won’t be there to hold my head when I’m ill.’—Go home
to your mother, then; for you deserve that someone should hold your head when
you’re ill. [13] —‘But at home I have a nice little bed to lie down in.’—Go back
to that little bed of yours, since you’re the kind of person who deserves to lie in
such a bed, even when you’re in good health. So don’t miss out on what you
could be doing back there.

[14] But what does Socrates say? ‘As one person rejoices in improving his land,
and another his horse, so I rejoice day by day in observing that I myself am
becoming better.’*—‘Better in what? In weaving fine phrases together?’—Hush,
man! [15] —‘In putting forward fine theories?’—What do you mean? [16]
—‘Well, I can’t see what else philosophers spend their time doing.’—Does it
seem nothing at all to you that one should never find fault with anyone, whether
god or human being, and never reproach anyone, and always have the same
expression on one’s face, whether going out or coming in? [17] These were the
things that Socrates knew, while saying nonetheless that he knew and taught
nothing whatever. But if someone was looking for fine phrases or fine principles,
he would send them off to Protagoras or Hippias,* just as though, if someone
had come in search of vegetables, he would have sent them off to a market
gardener. Who of you sets this as his purpose, then? [18] Because if you did,
you’d willingly undergo illness, hunger, and death. [19] If any of you has ever
been in love with a pretty girl, he’ll know that I’m telling the truth.

3.6 Miscellaneous

[1] When someone asked him how it is that, although more effort is devoted to
the study of logic nowadays, greater progress was made in the past, [2] Epictetus
replied: In what area is the effort applied in our own time, and in what area was
progress greater in earlier times? For in that to which effort is devoted
nowadays, so also will progress be found in our day. [3] Now, in our own day
people have been devoting their efforts to the solving of syllogisms, and in that,
real progress has been made; whereas formerly they devoted their efforts to
keeping their ruling centre in accord with nature, and progress was made in that
regard. [4] Don’t confuse one thing with another, then, and when you
concentrate your efforts in one area, don’t expect to make progress in another.
But see if there is anyone among us who, if he strives to keep himself and his
life in conformity with nature, fails to make progress. You won’t find anyone
who fails to do so.

[5] The good person is invincible because he never engages in any contest in
which he is not superior. [6] ‘If you want my land, take it; take my servants, take
my public position, take my poor body. But you won’t cause my desires to fail
to attain their end, or my aversions to fall into what they want to avoid.’ [7] This
is the only contest that he enters into, the one that is concerned with things that
lie within the sphere of choice; so how can he be anything other than invincible?

[8] When someone asked what is meant by common sense, he replied: Just as
one might call the faculty that simply distinguishes between sounds common
hearing, whereas that which distinguishes between musical sounds is artistic
hearing, so there are likewise certain things that people whose minds are not
altogether perverted can see by virtue of their general resources; such a
condition of the mind is called common sense.

[9] It isn’t easy to convert young men to philosophy, any more than one can
catch soft cheese on a hook; but those who are naturally gifted, even if one tries
to turn them away, attach themselves all the more strongly to reason. [10] And
so Rufus* used to turn people away most of the time, using that as a test to
distinguish the gifted from the ungifted. For he used to say, ‘Just as a stone, even
if you throw it into the air, will fall down to the earth by virtue of its own nature,
so it is too with the gifted person: the more one tries to beat him off, the more he
inclines towards the object to which his nature carries him.’

3.7 To the inspector of the free cities, who was an Epicurean

[1] When the inspector called in on him (the man was an Epicurean), Epictetus
said: It is fitting for laymen like ourselves to enquire of you philosophers—just
as those who arrive in a strange town do of the citizens who know the place—to
ask you what is the best thing in the world, so that when we’ve learned what it
is, we too may seek it out to have a look at it, just as visitors seek out the sights
of a city.

[2] Now, hardly anyone denies that there are three things that make up human
beings: mind, body, and external things. So all that remains for you to do is to
answer the question, which is the best? What are we going to tell people? That it
is the flesh? [3] Was it for this that Maximus sailed all the way to Cassiope* in
winter with his son, conducting him on his way? Was it for the pleasure of the
flesh? [4] When the visitor denied that, exclaiming, ‘Heaven forbid!’, Epictetus
continued: Isn’t it proper, then, to devote special attention to what is best in us?
—‘It is altogether proper.’—What do we have in us, then, that is better than our
flesh?—‘Our mind’, the man said.—Are the goods of the best part of higher
value, or those of the inferior part? [5] —‘Those of the best.’—And the goods of
the mind, do they lie within the sphere of choice, or outside it?—‘Within it.’—
Does the pleasure of the mind lie within the sphere of choice, then?—‘It does.’
[6] —And what gives rise to it? Does it arise of itself? No, that is inconceivable;
for we must assume the prior existence of a certain essence of the good, by
partaking of which we come to feel this pleasure in our mind.—He agreed to this
point too. [7] —At what, then, does this pleasure of the mind arise? For if it is at
the goods of the mind, the essence of the good has been discovered, because it is
impossible that the good should be one thing while that in which we reasonably
take delight should be another, or again, that if the antecedent is not good, what
follows from it could be good; for if the consequent is to be justified, the
antecedent must be good. [8] But this is something that you Epicureans should
not admit, if you have any sense, because what you would then be saying would
be inconsistent both with Epicurus and with the other doctrines of your school.
[9] The only thing that is left for you to say, then, is that the pleasure of the mind
is pleasure in bodily things, and these pleasures thus come to be what is of
primary value, and the essence of the good.

[10] Maximus thus acted foolishly if he made his voyage for anything other than
the flesh, that is to say, for the sake of anything other than what is best. [11] And
someone is acting foolishly too if he refrains from taking other people’s property
while he is sitting as a judge and is able to do so. But if you like, let’s take care
only that the theft be committed in secret, and in full safety without anyone
knowing; [12] for Epicurus himself doesn’t declare the act of theft to be bad, but
only getting caught, and it is merely because one can’t be sure of escaping
detection that he says, ‘Don’t steal.’* [13] But I assume that if it is done cleverly
and with proper care, we won’t be found out. And besides, we have powerful
friends in Rome, both men and women, and the Greeks are pusillanimous; none
of them will dare to go to Rome about such a matter. [14] Why is it, then, that
you refrain from pursuing your own good? That’s foolish; it’s silly. No, even if
you were to tell me that you do refrain from it, I won’t believe you. [15] For just
as it is impossible to give your assent to what appears to be false, it is impossible
likewise to abstain from something that seems to be good. Now wealth is good,
and it is, one might say, what serves best for the securing of pleasures. [16] Why
shouldn’t you acquire it? And why shouldn’t we try to seduce our neighbour’s
wife, if we can do so without getting caught? And if her husband spouts a lot of
nonsense, why shouldn’t we break his neck in addition? [17] That’s what you
should do if you want to be a philosopher of the right kind, a perfect
philosopher, remaining true to your own doctrines! Otherwise you’re no
different from those of us who are called Stoics. [18] For we too speak in one
way and act in another; we talk of what is fine and noble, but do what is
shameful, while you’re perverse in the opposite way, laying down shameful
doctrines but acting nobly.
[19] In God’s name, I ask you, can you imagine a city of Epicureans? ‘I shan’t
marry.’ ‘Nor I, for one shouldn’t marry.’ ‘Nor should one have children; nor
should one perform any civic duties.’* So what will happen, then? Where are the
citizens to come from? Who’ll educate them? Who’ll be superintendent of the
cadets? Who’ll be director of the gymnasium? And then, what will the young
men be taught? What the Spartans were taught, or the Athenians? [20] Take a
young man, I ask you, and bring him up in accordance with your doctrines. Your
doctrines are bad; they’re subversive of the state, ruinous to families, and not
fitting even for women. [21] Give them up, man. You’re living in a city of the
empire; you must exercise your authority, judge in accordance with what is right,
keep your hands off other people’s property, regard no woman as beautiful apart
from your own wife, and regard no boy as beautiful, nor any piece of silverware
or goldware. [22] You should seek out doctrines that are consistent with that
pattern of behaviour, and with those as your guide, you’ll abstain from the things
that are so seductive to us, and are liable to lead us astray and overpower us. [23]
But if, on the contrary, in addition to their seductiveness, we should have
devised some such philosophy as yours, which will help to propel us towards
them and give them added strength, what will come of that?

[24] In a piece of embossed silverware, what is best: the silver or the

workmanship? The substance of the hand is mere flesh, but what is important is
the works that the hand produces. [25] Now, appropriate actions are of three
kinds:* first, those relating to mere existence, secondly, those relating to
existence of a particular kind, and thirdly, those that are themselves principal
duties. And what are those? [26] Fulfilling one’s role as a citizen, marrying,
having children, honouring God, taking care of one’s parents, and, in a word,
having our desires and aversions, and our motives to act and or not to act, as
each of them ought to be, in accordance with our nature. And what is our nature?
[27] To be people who are free, noble-minded, and self-respecting. For what
other animal blushes; what other animal has a sense of shame? [28] Pleasure
should be subordinated to these duties as a servant, as an attendant,* so as to
arouse our zeal, so as to ensure that we consistently act in accord with nature.

[29] ‘But I’m rich and have need of nothing.’

Why do you still make a pretence, then, of being a philosopher? Your goldware
and silverware are enough to satisfy you; what need do you have of
philosophical doctrines?
[30] ‘Yes, but I’m also serving as judge of the Greeks.’

Do you know how to judge? Who has given you such knowledge?

‘Caesar has signed my credentials.’

May he give you credentials too certifying that you’re a judge of music! And
what good would that do you? [31] Besides, how did you come to be a judge?
Whose hand did you kiss? That of Symphorus or Numenius?* Whose
antechamber did you sleep in?* Who did you send gifts to? And then, don’t you
understand that your post as a judge is worth precisely the same as Numenius is
worth?

‘But I can throw anyone I want into prison.’

As you can throw a stone.

[32] ‘But I can have anyone I want beaten with a cudgel.’

As you can a donkey. That isn’t what it means to govern human beings. [33]
Govern us as rational beings by showing us what is in our interest, and we’ll
follow you; show us what is against our interest, and we’ll turn away from it.
[34] Make us admire you, make us want to emulate you, as Socrates did with his
followers. He was someone who truly knew how to govern his fellow men,
because he led people to submit their desires to him, their aversions, their
motives to act or not to act. [35] ‘Do this, don’t do that, otherwise I’ll have you
thrown into prison’: it isn’t in that way that one governs rational beings. [36] No,
say instead, ‘Do this as Zeus has ordained; otherwise you’ll suffer punishment,
you’ll suffer injury.’ What kind of injury? None other than not having done what
you ought to do. You’ll destroy the man of good faith in you, the man of honour,
the man of moderation. You need look for no greater injuries than that.

3.8 How should we train ourselves to deal with impressions

[1] As we train ourselves to deal with sophistical questioning, so we should also

train ourselves each day to deal with impressions, [2] because they too put
questions to us.

‘The son of So-and-so has died.’—Reply: That lies outside the sphere of choice,
it is nothing bad.
it is nothing bad.

‘So-and-so has been disinherited by his father.’—That lies outside the sphere of
choice, it is nothing bad.

‘Caesar has condemned him.’—That lies outside the sphere of choice, it is

nothing bad.

[3] ‘He has been distressed by these things.’—That lies within the sphere of
choice, it is something bad.

‘He has endured it nobly.’—That lies within the sphere of choice, it is something
good.

[4] If we adopt this habit, we’ll make progress, because we’ll never give our
assent to anything unless we get a convincing impression.*

[5] ‘His son has died.’—What has happened?—‘His son has died.’—Nothing
more than that?—‘Nothing more.’

‘His ship has gone down.’—What has happened? His ship has gone down.

‘He has been taken off to prison.’—What has happened? He has been taken off
to prison. But the observation ‘Things have gone badly for him’ is something
that each person adds for himself.

[6] ‘But Zeus is not acting rightly in all of this.’—Why? Because he has given
you the ability to endure things, and has made you noble-minded, because he has
prevented these things from being evils, because he has made it possible for you
to suffer them and still be happy, because he has left the door open for you, for
when things are no longer good for you? Go out, man, and don’t complain.

[7] If you want to know how the Romans feel towards philosophers, listen to
this. Italicus,* who had a very high reputation among them as a philosopher,
once grew angry with his friends in my presence, claiming to have suffered
something intolerable. ‘I can’t bear it,’ he said; ‘you’ll be the death of me, you’ll
be making me just like him’—and he pointed at me!

3.9 To an orator who was going to Rome in connection with a

lawsuit
[1] Someone called in on Epictetus while travelling to Rome in connection with
a lawsuit about an honour that was due to him. After responding to Epictetus’
enquiry about the reason for his journey, the man proceeded to ask him what he
thought about the matter. [2] If you’re asking me about what you’re going to do
in Rome, he replied, and whether you’ll win or lose your case, I have no
guidance to offer; but if you’re asking me how you’ll do, I can tell you that if
your judgements are right, you’ll do well, but if they’re wrong, you’ll do badly;
for whatever a person does, he does on the basis of a judgement. [3] For what is
it that makes you want to be elected as patron of the Cnossians?* Your
judgement. And what prompts you to go off to Rome at the present time? Your
judgement. And in winter too, at some risk and expense?

‘Yes, because it is essential.’

[4] Who tells you that? Your judgement. If our judgements, then, are the cause
of all that we undertake, when someone has bad judgements, just as the cause is,
so will the result be too. [5] Well then, do we all have sound judgements, both
you and your opponent alike? If so, how is it that you disagree? But is it that you
have sound judgement rather than he? Why? Because you think that is the case.
But he thinks that too, and so do madmen. That is a bad criterion.

[6] Show me, then, that you have subjected your own judgements to some
examination, and have paid attention to them. And since you’re now sailing off
to Rome in the hope of becoming the patron of the Cnossians, and aren’t content
to stay at home with the honours that you already had, but have set your heart on
something greater and more splendid, have you set sail in such a way for the
purpose of examining your own judgements, and rejecting any that you find to
be unsound? [7] Whom have you ever visited for that purpose? What time have
you devoted to yourself; what period of your life? Run through the years of your
life; in your own mind if you’re ashamed to do so in front of me. [8] When you
were a child, did you examine your own judgements? Isn’t it true that you used
to do everything just as you do it now? And when you grew up to become an
adolescent, when you listened to the orators and practised on your own account,
did you imagine that you were deficient in anything? [9] And when, as a young
man, you began to take part in public affairs, and to plead cases yourself and
acquire a reputation, was there anyone who still appeared to you to be your
equal? Would you have put up with it for a moment if someone had tried to
cross-examine you to show that you had bad judgements? [10] Well then, what
do you want me to say?
‘Help me out in this matter.’

I have no rules of conduct to offer you in this, and if you have come to me for
that purpose, you haven’t come here as you should come to a philosopher, but as
one would come to a greengrocer or a cobbler.

[11] ‘With regard to what, then, do philosophers have rules to offer?’

With regard to this, to ensuring that whatever comes about, our ruling centre is
and forever continues to be in accord with nature. Does that seem a small matter
to you?

‘No, but of the highest importance.’

Well then, does that require only a short time, as something that you can pick up
in passing? Please do, if you can. [12] You’ll go on to say, ‘I had an encounter
with Epictetus, but it was like being with a stone, with a statue.’ The fact is that
you’ve seen me and nothing more. But if one is to meet someone properly, as a
person, one must become acquainted with his judgements, and show him one’s
own judgements in one’s turn. [13] Learn to know my judgements, show me
your own, and then you can say that you’ve met me. Let’s cross-examine one
another; and if I’m harbouring any bad judgement, root it out, or if you’re
harbouring any, bring it to light. That is what meeting a philosopher is all about.
[14] But no, instead you say, ‘We’re passing through, and while we’re waiting to
hire our ship, we’ll have an opportunity to go and see Epictetus too. Let’s see
what he has to say.’ And then as you leave, ‘Epictetus didn’t amount to
anything, he murdered the language, used barbarous expressions.’ For what else
would you be able to pass judgement on, coming here in the way that you did?

[15] ‘But if I turn to these matters,’ someone says, ‘I won’t be a landowner any
more than you are, I won’t own silver goblets any more than you do, and I won’t
have fine cattle any more than you do.’ [16] To which it would perhaps suffice
to respond, ‘But I have no need of such things, and even if you come to acquire
many possessions, you’ll need more again, and whether you wish it or not,
you’re more poverty-stricken than I am.’

[17] ‘What do I have need of, then?’

What you don’t have at present, stability, a mind in accord with nature, and
freedom from agitation. [18] To be a patron, or not to be a patron, means nothing
to me, but it matters to you. I’m not anxious about what Caesar will think of me,
and I flatter no one for that purpose. That is what I have in place of your vessels
of silver and gold. As for you, you may possess goldware, but your reason, your
judgements, your assents, your motives, your desires, are earthenware one and
all. [19] But when I have all of these in accord with nature, why shouldn’t I
devote some of my attention to the art of reasoning? I have the leisure to do so,
because my mind isn’t distracted by all kinds of different things. Could I find a
task more worthy of a human being than this? [20] For your part, you’re at a
loose end when you have nothing to do; you go to the theatre to kill time. Why
shouldn’t a philosopher cultivate his own reason? [21] You have crystal vases, I
the argument of ‘the Liar’. You have Myrrhine glassware, I the denying
argument.* To you, all the possessions that you have seem small, while to me
everything that I have seems great. Your desire is insatiable; mine is already
fulfilled. [22] It is the same as when children push their hand into a narrow-
necked jar and try to extract nuts and figs; if they fill their hand, they can’t get it
out again, and then burst into tears. Drop a few of them and you’ll get it out. And
in your case, too, let your desire drop; don’t hanker after so many things, and
you’ll get what you want.

3.10 How ought we to bear our illnesses?

[1] We should have each judgement ready at hand for when we have need of it;
at table, such as relate to the table, at the baths, such as relate to baths, and in
bed, such as relate to bed.

[2] Let not sleep descend on your weary eyes

Before having reviewed every action of the day.
[3] Where did I go wrong? What did I do? What duty leave undone?
Starting here, review your actions, and afterwards,
Blame yourself for what is badly done, and rejoice in the good.

[4] We should keep these verses at hand to put them to practical use, and not
merely use them by way of exclamation, as when we cry, ‘Paean Apollo!’* [5]
And again, when in a fever, we should have the judgements at hand that apply to
that; let’s make sure, if we’re struck by a fever, that we don’t cast all of that
aside and forget it, saying, ‘If I return to philosophy again, let things come about
as they will,’ and go away somewhere to take care of our poor body. Won’t the
fever go there too? [6] But to practise philosophy, what does that mean? Isn’t it
to prepare oneself to face every eventuality? Don’t you understand, then, that
what you’re saying amounts to something like this: ‘If I ever again prepare
myself to face every eventuality with equanimity, let things come about as they
will’? It is as if someone were to withdraw from the pancration because he has
received some blows! [7] Though in the pancration, it is possible to withdraw
from the contest and so escape a beating, but in our case, if we were to abandon
philosophy, what good would that do us? What should a philosopher say, then,
in the face of each of the hardships of life? ‘It is for this that I’ve been training
myself; it is for this that I was practising.’ [8] God says to you, ‘Give me proof
of whether you’ve competed in accordance with the rules, whether you’ve
followed the proper diet, carried out the proper exercises, and have obeyed your
trainer.’ And then, when the time comes for you to act, will you quail? Now is
the moment to suffer a fever; may it proceed as it should; to undergo thirst, may
you undergo it in the right spirit; to undergo hunger, may you undergo it in the
right spirit. [9] Isn’t that within your power? Who can prevent you? Yes, a
doctor may prevent you from drinking, but he can’t prevent you from bearing
thirst in the right way; he may prevent you from eating, but he can’t prevent you
from facing hunger in the right way.

[10] ‘But isn’t it the case that I’m a scholar?’

And for what purpose do you pursue your studies? Isn’t it so that you may be
happy, slave? Isn’t it so that you may achieve constancy of mind? Isn’t it so that
you may be in accord with nature and pass your life so? [11] What prevents you,
then, when you have a fever, from keeping your ruling centre in accord with
nature? Here is the proof of the matter; here is the testing point for a philosopher.
For this too is a part of life, just as a walk is, or a sea-voyage, or a journey, so is
a fever too. [12] You don’t read when taking a walk, do you?—‘No.’—Nor do
you read when you’re suffering from a fever. But if you walk in the right way,
you’re fulfilling your role as a walker, and if you undergo a fever in the right
way, you’re fulfilling your role as a fever patient. [13] What does it mean to
undergo a fever in the right way? It is to find fault with neither God nor man; it
is to refuse to allow yourself to be overwhelmed by what is happening, and to
await death bravely and in the right way, and to do what you’re told; when your
doctor arrives, don’t be afraid of what he might say, and don’t rejoice too greatly
if he says, ‘Things are going nicely for you.’ For what is good in what he is
telling you? [14] After all, when you were in good health, what was good for
you in that? And likewise, if he says, ‘You’re in a bad way,’ don’t be dejected.
For what does it mean to be in a bad way? That the moment is close at hand in
which your soul will be separated from your body. Now what is so terrible in
that? If you’re not drawing close to that now, isn’t it the case that you will draw
close at some future time? What, will the world be turned upside down if you
should come to die? [15] Why do you flatter your doctor, then? Why do you say,
‘If only you wish it, sir, I’ll be well’? Why do you give him an opportunity to
put on airs? Why not pay him just what is due to him? As I pay a shoemaker his
due with regard to my foot, and a builder with regard to my house, why not the
doctor with regard to my poor body, something that isn’t my own, something
that is by nature a corpse? These are the things that the moment demands from
someone who is suffering from a fever; and if he accomplishes them, he is as he
ought to be.

[16] For it isn’t the business of a philosopher to safeguard these external things,
his little store of wine or oil, or his poor body; but in that case, what? His own
ruling centre. And how should he concern himself with external things? Only so
far as to ensure that he doesn’t behave towards them in any ill-considered
manner. What occasion is left for fear, then? What occasion for anger? [17]
What occasion is there left for fear when it comes to external things, to things of
no value? [18] These, then, are two principles that we should always keep at
hand: that outside the sphere of choice, there is nothing good or bad, and that we
should guide events rather than follow them.

[19] ‘My brother shouldn’t have treated me in this way.’ Indeed he shouldn’t,
but it’s for him to see to that. For my part, however he treats me, I should
conduct myself towards him as I ought. For that is my business, and the rest is
not my concern. In this no one can hinder me, while everything else is subject to
hindrance.

3.11 Miscellaneous

[1] There are certain punishments that are laid down as though by law against
those who disobey the divine governing order: [2] ‘Whoever shall regard
anything as good other than those things that lie within the sphere of choice, let
him be subject to envy and desire, let him flatter, let him be troubled in his
mind; whoever shall regard anything other as evil, let him grieve, let him
lament, let him be unhappy.’ [3] Yet all the same, in spite of these harsh
penalties, we cannot desist from thinking in such a way.
[4] Remember what the poet says with regard to strangers:

Stranger, it is not permitted, even if worse should come

Than you, to dishonour a stranger; for all come from Zeus,
Strangers and beggars.

[5] You should also keep this thought at hand to apply in the case of a father:
‘It is not permitted for me to dishonour you, father, even if worse should come
than you, because all come from Zeus, the God of Paternity’; [6] and so too in
the case of a brother, ‘because all come from Zeus, the God of Kindred’. And
likewise in all our other social relations, we shall find Zeus to be the overseer of
them all.

3.12 On training

[1] In our training we shouldn’t resort to unnatural and extraordinary practices,

or otherwise we who profess to be philosophers will be no better than showmen.
[2] For it is difficult also to walk along a tightrope, and not only difficult, but
dangerous too. For that reason, should we too practise walking along a tightrope,
or setting up palms, or embracing statues?* In no way. [3] For not everything
that is difficult or dangerous is suitable for training, but only what will
contribute to our achieving the object of our strivings. [4] And what is the object
of our strivings? To pass our lives without suffering any hindrance in our desires
and aversions. And what does that mean? That we should neither fail to get what
we desire, nor fall into what we want to avoid. It is, accordingly, towards that
end that our training should be directed. [5] For without hard and unremitting
training, it isn’t possible for us to ensure that our desires won’t fail to attain their
object, or that our aversions won’t fall into what they want to avoid, and you
should know that if you allow your training to be directed outward, towards
things that lie outside the sphere of choice, you won’t have desire that is
successful in attaining its object, nor will you have aversion that is secure from
falling into what it wants to avoid. [6] And since habit is a powerful force that
leads us where it will, when we’ve become accustomed to exercising our desires
and aversions in relation to these external things alone, we must set a contrary
habit in opposition to that habit, and when impressions are most inclined to
make us slip, there we must apply our training as a counteracting force.

[7] I’m inclined to pleasure: I’ll throw myself beyond measure in the opposite
direction,* for the sake of training. I’m inclined to avoid hard work: I’ll train and
exercise my impressions to ensure that my aversion from everything of that kind
will cease. [8] For who is a man in training? One who practises not exercising
his desire, and practises exercising his aversion only in relation to things that lie
within the sphere of choice, practising especially hard in matters that are difficult
to master. So different people will practise hardest with regard to different
things. [9] What purpose can it serve here, then, to set up a palm, or carry a
leather tent around, and mortar and pestle?* [10] If you’re irritable, man, train
yourself to put up with abuse, and not get upset when you’re insulted. Then
you’ll make such progress that, even if someone hits you, you’ll say to yourself,
‘Imagine that you’re embracing a statue.’ [11] Train yourself next to use wine
with discretion, not so as to be able to drink it in quantity—for there are some
people who are so uncouth as to train themselves for that—but so as to be able to
keep away, first of all, from wine, and then from a pretty girl, or a honey-cake.
And then one day, by way of a test, if the occasion presents itself, you’ll venture
into the lists to see whether your impressions still get the better of you as they
once did. [12] But to begin with, keep well away from what is stronger than you.
If a pretty girl is set against a young man who is just making a start on
philosophy, that is no fair contest. ‘Pot and stone’, so the saying goes, ‘don’t
belong together.’

[13] After desire and aversion, the second area of study is concerned with your
motives to act or not to act, so that they may be obedient to reason, and not be
exercised at the wrong time, or in the wrong place, or improperly in any
comparable respect.

[14] The third area of study is concerned with assent, and with what is plausible
and attractive. [15] For just as Socrates used to say that we shouldn’t live an
unexamined life, we shouldn’t accept any impression without subjecting it to
examination, but should say to it, ‘Wait, let me see who you are, and where
you’ve come from’—just as night watchmen say: ‘Show me your marks of
identification’*—‘Do you have that mark from nature that every impression
must have if it is to be accepted?’

[16] And in conclusion, all the practices that are applied to the body by those
who are giving it exercise may also be useful here if they’re directed in some
way towards desire and aversion; but if they’re directed towards display, that is
the sign of someone who has turned towards external things and is hunting for
other prey, of one who is seeking for spectators to exclaim, ‘Oh what a great
man!’ [17] Apollonius* was thus right when he used to say, ‘If you want to train
for your own sake, take a little cold water into your mouth when you’re thirsty in
hot weather and then spit it out again, without telling a soul.’

3.13 What desolation means, and the nature of one who is desolate

[1] Desolation is the condition of someone who is bereft of help. For a person is
not desolate merely because he is alone, any more than he is secure from
desolation because he is in a crowd. [2] At all events, when we’ve lost a brother,
or son, or a friend whom we’ve relied on, we say that we’ve been left desolate,
even though we’re often in Rome, where we run into such crowds and have so
many people sharing the house with us, and sometimes, indeed, have a multitude
of slaves. For the very notion of being desolate means that a person is helpless
and exposed to those who wish to harm him. [3] That is why, when we’re on a
journey, we call ourselves desolate above all when we fall among robbers, for it
isn’t the mere sight of another person that delivers us from desolation, but the
sight of one who is trustworthy, honest, and helpful. [4] If the bare fact of being
alone was enough to make one desolate, one would have to say that even Zeus is
desolate at the time of the conflagration of the universe, and laments to himself,
‘How wretched I am, I have neither Hera, nor Athena, nor Apollo, and in a word
have neither brother, nor son, nor grandson, nor any relation.’* [5] There are
some indeed who say that he really does act like that when he finds himself
alone at the conflagration of the universe; for they’re unable to conceive how a
person can live on his own, starting out as they do from this fact of nature, that
human beings are naturally sociable, and have natural affection, and take joy in
associating with one another. [6] But we ought to prepare ourselves nonetheless
to be able to be self-sufficient, and to be able to live with ourselves, [7] and even
as Zeus lives with himself, is at peace with himself, and reflects on the nature of
his own rule, and occupies himself with thoughts that are worthy of him, so we
too should be able to converse with ourselves, and know how to do without
others, and not be at a loss about how to occupy ourselves; [8] we should reflect
on the divine governing order, and the nature of our relationship with all other
things, and consider how we have responded to events up until now, and how we
are doing so at present, and what are the things that afflict us, and how these too
can be remedied; and if any of these things need perfecting, we must perfect
them in accordance with the principle of reason inherent in them.

[9] See how Caesar seems to provide us with profound peace:* there are no
longer any wars and battles, no brigandage on any large scale, and no piracy, but
it is possible for us to travel by land at any hour, or sail the seas from sunrise to
sunset. [10] But can Caesar provide us with peace from fever too, from
shipwreck, from fire, from earthquake, from lightning? Come now, can he
provide us with peace from love? He can’t. From sorrow? He can’t. From envy?
No, he can’t; from nothing of this kind. [11] But the teaching of the philosophers
promises to provide us with peace from all such things. What does it say? ‘If
you’ll pay heed to me, men, wherever you are, and whatever you’re doing,
you’ll feel neither pain nor anger; you’ll suffer neither constraint nor hindrance,
but will pass your lives in peace and free from every trouble.’ [12] When
someone has this peace proclaimed to him, not by Caesar—for how would he be
able to do so?—but by God through the voice of reason, [13] isn’t he contented
when alone, as he thinks and reflects, ‘Now nothing bad can possibly happen to
me; there can be no robber for me, no earthquake; everything is full of peace,
full of tranquillity; and every road, every city, every fellow traveller, neighbour,
companion, all are harmless. Another, to whom that care falls, provides me with
food and clothing, another has given me senses and preconceptions. [14] When
he no longer provides what is necessary, he sounds the recall; he has thrown the
door open and says to you: “Go!” To where? To nothing that need cause you
fear, but to that from which you came, to that which is friendly and akin to you,
to the elements. [15] What there was of fire in you will return to fire, what there
was of earth to earth, what there was of air to air, what there was of water to
water. There is no Hades, no Acheron, no Cocytos, no Pyriphlegethon, but
everything is filled with gods and divine spirits.’* [16] Whoever has this to
reflect upon, and beholds the sea, moon, and stars, and enjoys the earth and sea,
is no more desolate than he is bereft of help.

[17] ‘Well, what if someone attacks me when I’m alone and murders me?’ No,
you poor fool, but that miserable body of yours!

[18] What kind of desolation is left, then, what helplessness? Why do we make
ourselves worse than little children? When left on their own, what do they do?
They gather up bits of pottery and scraps of earth, and build something out of
them, and then pull it down again to build something new. And so they’re never
at a loss for something to pass their time. [19] For my own part, then, if the rest
of you sail away, am I to sit down and weep because I’ve been left alone and left
desolate? Won’t I have my bits of pottery, won’t I have my scraps of earth?
Why, when children act in that way through simplicity of mind, are we to be
rendered unhappy through our wisdom? [20] Any great power is perilous for a
beginner.* One should thus bear such things according to one’s capacity, but in
accordance with nature … [certain actions may be appropriate for a healthy
person,] but not for a consumptive. [21] You should practise at one time to live
like one who is ill, so as to be able, one day, to live like one who is healthy. Take
no food, drink water alone; abstain from every desire at one time so as to be
able, one day, to exercise your desires in a reasonable way. And if you do so in a
reasonable manner, when you have some good in you, your desires too will be
good.

[22] But no, we want to live as wise men all at once, and bring benefit to others.
What kind of benefit? What are you up to? Have you been able even to help
yourself? And yet you want to convert others to a good life. Have you even
converted yourself? You want to be of benefit to them? [23] Show them through
your own example what kind of men philosophy produces, and give up your
empty talk! By the way in which you eat, bring benefit to those who eat with
you, by the way in which you drink, bring benefit to those who drink, and by
yielding to all of them, by giving way to all, by putting up with all, be of benefit
to them in that way, and not by showering them with your spittle!*

3.14 Miscellaneous

[1] Just as bad choral singers in tragedy cannot sing properly on their own, but
only along with many others, there are likewise some people who cannot walk
around on their own. [2] If you’re anyone at all, man, walk around on your own,
and talk to yourself, and don’t hide away in the chorus. [3] Put up with being
laughed at on occasion; look around you, and give yourself a good shaking to
find out who you really are.

[4] When someone drinks water alone, or adopts some other ascetic practice, he
seizes every opportunity to tell everyone, ‘I drink nothing but water.’ [5] Why,
do you drink water for the sole purpose of drinking water? Man, if it brings you
any benefit to drink it, then drink it; otherwise you’re acting in a ridiculous
fashion. [6] But if it is of benefit to you and you drink water alone, don’t talk
about it to those who are irritated by people who drink nothing but water. What
are you up to, then? Are you seeking to please those very people?

[7] There are some actions that are performed for their inherent value; others
that are occasioned by circumstances; others that are performed for purposes of
practical management, or to accommodate others, or in pursuit of our own plans.

[8] There are two things that must be rooted out from human beings:
presumption and lack of confidence. Presumption lies in supposing that there is
nothing more that one needs, and lack of confidence in supposing that it is
impossible that one can find serenity in the midst of so many adverse
circumstances. [9] Now, as regards presumption, that can be removed by cross-
examination, and Socrates was the first to do that* … but that the matter isn’t
impossible, that is something that you must examine and investigate; such an
investigation will do you no harm, and one could just about say, [10] indeed,
that the practice of philosophy consists in that, in investigating how it is possible
to exercise one’s desires and aversions without being subject to hindrance.

[11] ‘I’m superior to you because my father is of consular rank.’ [12] Another
says, ‘I’ve been a tribune and you haven’t.’ If we were horses, would you say, ‘I
have lots of barley and fodder’ or ‘I have lovely trappings’? What if you spoke
in such a way and I replied, ‘Be that as it may, let’s run a race.’ [13] Come, is
there nothing in the human realm comparable to running a race in that of horses,
by which it can be recognized who is better and who is worse? Is there no such
thing as a sense of honour, or fidelity, or justice? [14] Show yourself to be better
in these so that you may be better as a human being. But if you tell me, ‘I have a
powerful kick,’* I’ll reply in my turn that ‘You’re priding yourself on what a
donkey can do.’

3.15 That we should approach everything with circumspection

[1] In each action that you undertake, consider what comes before and what
follows after, and only then proceed to the action itself. Otherwise you’ll set
about it with enthusiasm because you’ve never given any thought to the
consequences that will follow, and then you’ll give up in an ignominious fashion
when one or another of them makes its appearance.

[2] ‘I want to win an Olympic victory.’ Well, consider what comes before and
what follows after, and only then, if there is any advantage for you in it, actually
set to work. [3] You must accept the discipline, submit to a diet, abstain from
eating cakes, train under orders, at a fixed time, in heat or cold, and you mustn’t
drink cold water or wine just as you wish; in short, you must give yourself up to
your trainer as you would to a doctor, [4] and then, when the time comes for the
contest, you must set about digging,* and sometimes dislocate your wrist, or
sprain your ankle, and swallow quantities of sand, and get whipped—and then
sometimes get defeated even after all of that! [5] When you’ve reflected about
these things, go on then to become an athlete if you still want to; otherwise
recognize that you’re behaving as children do, who play at being athletes at one
moment, and then at being gladiators, and then blow a trumpet, and then act out
scenes that they have seen and admired. [6] For your own part likewise, you’re
sometimes an athlete, sometimes a gladiator, then a philosopher, then an orator,
but nothing at all whole-heartedly; no, in the manner of an ape, you imitate
everything that you see, and one thing after another is always catching your
fancy, but it ceases to amuse you as soon as you grow accustomed to it. [7] For
you’ve never embarked on anything after due consideration, nor after having
subjected it to proper examination and tested it out, but always at random and in
a half-hearted fashion.

[8] So it comes about that some people, after seeing a philosopher and hearing
someone talking like Euphrates,*—and yet who is capable of talking like him?
—want to become philosophers in their turn. [9] Consider first of all, man, what
it is that you’re taking on, and then your own nature too and what you’re able to
bear. If you wanted to be a wrestler, you’d have to look at your shoulders, your
back, your thighs; [10] for different people are made for different things. Do you
suppose that you can act as you do at present and yet be a philosopher? Do you
suppose that you can eat as you do, drink as you do, lose your temper as you do,
and be as irritable as you are? [11] You must stay up at night, toil away,
overcome certain desires, become separated from those who are close to you,
suffer scorn from a little slave, be laughed at by those whom you meet, and
come off worse in everything, in power, in honour, in the courts. [12] When
you’ve weighed up all of this, then approach philosophy if you think fit, if
you’re willing to give up all of this in exchange for serenity, freedom, peace of
mind. Otherwise, don’t come near, don’t act as children do and be a philosopher
at one time, and later a tax-collector, and then an orator, and then one of
Caesar’s procurators. [13] These things don’t go together. You must be just one
man, either good or bad; you must devote your efforts either to your ruling
centre or to external things; in other words, you must assume the part either of a
philosopher or of a layman.

[14] After Galba* was murdered, someone said to Rufus, ‘So is the universe
under the rule of providence now?’, to which he replied, ‘Have I ever, even in
passing, appealed to Galba as an example to show that the universe is under
providential rule?’

3.16 That we should enter into social intercourse with caution

[1] Someone who associates regularly with certain people, for conversation, or
for parties, or simply for the sake of sociability, is bound either to come to
resemble them or else to convert them to his own way of life. [2] For if you
place a dead coal beside a live coal, either the former will extinguish the latter,
or the latter will set the former alight. [3] Since the risk is thus so great, we
should be cautious in entering into such relations with laymen, remembering that
it is impossible to rub up against someone covered with soot without getting
sooty oneself. [4] For what will you do if he chats about gladiators, horses, or
athletes, or still worse, about personalities: ‘So-and-so is a bad person, So-and-
so a good one; that was well done, that was badly done’; or again, if he mocks, if
he ridicules, if he is ill-natured? [5] Do any of you have the skill that a good
lyre-player possesses, of being able to tell, as soon as he touches the strings,
which are out of tune, and so be able to tune his instrument? Or the power that
Socrates had, always to be able to bring those who associated with him over to
his own views? [6] How could you have? It is rather the laymen who are bound
to bring you round to theirs.

[7] Why is it, then, that these people are stronger than you? Because all the
rotten things that they say are drawn from their own judgements, while your
smart talk comes only from your lips. As a consequence, it has no vigour, no
vitality, and anyone would feel sick to hear your exhortations and miserable
prattle about virtue, which you keep going on about. [8] And so laymen get the
better of you; since judgement is all-powerful, judgement is invincible. [9] Until
these fine thoughts, then, are firmly established in you, and you’ve acquired the
power that is needed to guarantee your safety, I would advise you to be cautious
about getting involved with laymen. Otherwise everything that you write down
in the schoolroom will melt away day by day like wax in the sun. [10] You
should retire, then, to some place far away from the sun, as long as your opinions
are like wax.* [11] That is the reason why philosophers recommend that we
should even leave our homeland, because old habits distract us and hold us back
from making a start on developing new ones, and we can’t bear to have those
who meet us say, ‘Look, So-and-so has turned to philosophy, who used to be
like this or that.’ [12] Doctors likewise send patients with chronic disorders
away to a different place and a different climate, and rightly so. [13] And you
too should introduce new habits in place of your old ones; fix your ideas firmly
within you, and exercise yourselves in them.

[14] But no, you go away from here to a theatre, to a gladiatorial show, to a
gymnasium, to a circus; and then you return here from such places, and then you
go back again, remaining always the same. [15] No fine habit is to be seen in
you; you devote no care or attention to yourself, and fail to keep a watch on
yourself, asking, ‘How do I deal with these impressions that present themselves
to me? In accordance with nature or contrary to it? How shall I respond to them?
As I should or as I shouldn’t? Do I declare to those things that lie outside the
sphere of choice that they mean nothing to me?’ [16] For if you have yet to
achieve that frame of mind, flee from laymen, if you ever want to begin to be
somebody.

3.17 On Providence

[1] Whenever you find fault with providence, just give the matter some thought
and you’ll recognize that what came about was in accordance with reason.

[2] ‘Yes, but someone who is unjust comes off better.’

In what? In money. For in that regard he has the better of you because he flatters
people, because he has no shame, because he stays awake at night. Is there
anything surprising in that? [3] But look to see whether he is better than you in
being trustworthy and honest. Because you’ll find that not to be the case; but
rather, in those things in which you’re superior to him, you’ll find that you’re the
one who is better off.

[4] I said one day to someone who was indignant at the prosperity of
Philostorgus: Would you have been willing to go to bed with Sura?*—‘Heaven
forbid’, he replied, ‘that such a day should ever arrive!’ [5] —Why are you
indignant, then, if he gets some reward for what he sells? Or how can you
account a man happy if he acquires his prosperity through means that you abhor?
What wrong is providence committing if it gives the better things to the better
people? Or isn’t it better to be honourable than to be rich? The man agreed. [6]
So why are you indignant, man, if you have what is of greater worth? Always
remember, then, and keep in mind that it is a law of nature that one who is
superior has the advantage over one who is inferior in the respect in which he is
superior, and you’ll never again have cause for indignation.
[7] ‘But my wife behaves badly to me.’

Very well. If someone asks you what the matter is, reply, ‘My wife behaves
badly to me.’—‘And nothing more than that?’—Nothing more.

[What is the matter? [8] ‘My father doesn’t give me anything.’] Must you add
further in your own mind that this is something bad, and so add a falsehood too?
That’s why it is not poverty that we should reject, but the judgement that we
hold about it, and then our life will run happily.

3.18 That we should not allow news to disturb us

[1] Whenever any disturbing news is brought to you, you should have this
thought ready at hand: that news never relates to anything that lies within the
sphere of choice. [2] For can anyone ever bring word to you that you’ve
harboured a mistaken assumption or wrong desire?—‘In no way.’—He can
report, however, that someone has died. Well, what is that to you? Or that
someone is speaking badly of you. Well, what is that to you? [3] That your
father is hatching some plan or other. Against what? Surely not against your
choice? How could he? Why, against your poor body, against your wretched
possessions; you’re safe and sound, then: it isn’t against you.

[4] But the judge has pronounced you guilty of impiety. In the case of Socrates,*
didn’t the judges pronounce that very judgement? Surely it’s no business of
yours if the judge has pronounced that judgement?—‘No indeed.’—Then why
worry about it any longer?

[5] Your father has a certain function that he must fulfil, or else, if he should fail
to do so, he will have destroyed the father in him, the man who loves his
offspring and is gentle towards them. Don’t seek to make him lose anything else
because of that. For it never happens that when someone goes wrong in one
thing, he suffers harm in another. [6] In your case, it is your function to defend
yourself firmly, respectfully, and without anger. Otherwise you will have
destroyed the son in you,* the man who is respectful and high-minded. [7] What,
then, is the judge himself exempt from risk? No, he too runs an equal risk. Why
are you still afraid, then, of the judgement that he’ll pronounce? What does
someone else’s evil have to do with you? [8] Your own evil is to make a bad
defence. That alone is what you need to guard against; but as to whether you’re
condemned or acquitted, that is someone else’s business, and accordingly,
someone else’s evil. [9] —‘So-and-so is making threats against you.’—Against
me? No.—‘He’s criticizing you.’—It’s for him to look to how he carries out his
own business.—‘He’s going to condemn you unjustly.’—Poor wretch!

3.19 What is the position of the layman, and what that of the
philosopher?

[1] The first difference between a layman and a philosopher is this, that the one
says, ‘Ah, how I suffer because of my child, because of my brother, ah, how I
suffer because of my father,’ whereas the other, if he can ever be compelled to
say, ‘Ah, how I suffer,’ adds after a moment’s thought, ‘because of myself’. [2]
For choice cannot be hindered or harmed by anything that lies outside the sphere
of choice, but only by choice itself. [3] So if we too incline towards this latter
course, and whenever we go astray, blame ourselves for it and remember that
nothing except our own judgement is capable of causing us to become disturbed
or confused, I swear to you by all the gods that we’ve made progress.

[4] But as things are, we’ve followed quite another course from the beginning.
Already, when we were still little children, if we ever bumped into anything
while we had our head in the clouds, our nurse didn’t tell us off, but would hit
the stone. Why, what had the stone done? Should it have shifted out of the way
because of the foolishness of a child? [5] And again, if we couldn’t find anything
to eat after leaving our bath, our attendant would never try to damp down our
appetite, but would beat the cook instead. Man, we didn’t appoint you to be
attendant to the cook, did we? No, but to our son. Put him right; be of some use
to him. [6] So even when we’re grown up, we have the appearance of being
children. For it is a child’s part to be uncultivated in matters of culture, to be
unlettered in matters of literature, and to be uneducated in life.

3.20 That advantage may be gained from every external

circumstance

[1] With regard to intellectual impressions, almost everyone has conceded that
the good and bad are in ourselves, and not in external things. [2] No one
maintains that the proposition ‘It’s day’ is good, or that the proposition ‘It’s
night’ is bad, or that the proposition ‘Three equals four’ is the greatest of evils.
[3] But what do they say? That knowledge is good, and error is bad, so that even
in regard to what is false, something good arises: the knowledge that it is indeed
false. [4] The same should thus be true in life also. Is health a good and illness
an evil? No, man. What, then? Health is good when put to right use, and bad
when put to bad use.

‘So it is possible to draw advantage even from illness?’

By God, isn’t it possible to draw advantage even from death? And from
lameness too; isn’t that so? [5] Do you supposes that it was only some small
benefit that Menoeceus* gained through his death?

‘May anyone who talks like that gain the same sort of benefit as he did!’

Look here, man, didn’t he preserve his character as a patriot, and as one who was
high-minded, faithful, and noble-spirited? And if he’d survived, wouldn’t he
have lost all of that? Wouldn’t he have acquired the opposite qualities? [6]
Wouldn’t he have assumed the character of a man who is cowardly, mean-
natured, and hates his country, and attaches too much importance to his own
life? Come, do you think he gained little advantage from his death? [7] Well, did
the father of Admetus* gain any great advantage from living on as he did, in an
ignoble and miserable fashion? And later on, wasn’t he bound to die in any case?
[8] You must cease—I abjure you by the gods!—cease to attach such value to
what is purely material, and cease to make yourselves slaves, in the first place,
of things, and then, on account of those things, of the men who are able to
procure them for you or take them away from you.

[9] ‘Is it possible, then, to derive advantage from these things?’

Yes, from all of them.

‘Even from someone who insults you?’

And what advantage does a wrestler gain from his training partner? The greatest.
And that man, too, who insults me becomes my training partner; he trains me in
patience, in abstaining from anger, in remaining gentle. [10] You disagree; and
yet the man who seizes me by the neck, and gets my hips and shoulders into
shape, renders me some advantage, and the wrestling master does well to tell me,
‘Raise up the pestle with both hands,’ and the heavier the pestle is, the more
good it does me. And yet you say that if someone trains me in abstaining from
anger, he brings me no benefit? [11] It is simply that you don’t know how to
draw advantage from other people. My neighbour is a bad man? Bad to himself,
but good to me. [12] This is the magic wand of Hermes: ‘Touch what you want’,
so the saying goes, ‘and it will turn to gold.’ No, but bring me whatever you
wish, and I’ll turn it into something good. Bring illness, bring death, bring
destitution, bring abuse or a trial for one’s life, and under the touch of the magic
wand of Hermes, all of that will become a source of benefit.

[13] ‘And death, what will you make of that?’

Why, what else than make it something that can bring you honour, and make it a
means by which you can show in very deed what it means to be someone who
follows the will of nature?

[14] ‘And illness, what will you make of that?’

I’ll show its nature, I’ll excel in it, I’ll remain steadfast and serene, I won’t flatter
my doctor, I won’t pray for death. [15] What more do you seek? Whatever you
present to me I’ll turn it into something blessed and a source of happiness, into
something venerable and enviable.

[16] But no, instead you say, ‘Take care not to get ill: it is something bad.’ It is
as if one were to say, ‘Take care not to form the impression that three is equal to
four: that is something bad.’ In what way is it bad, man? If I come to think about
it as I ought, can it be of harm to me any longer? Won’t it rather be a source of
benefit to me? [17] If I form the right idea about poverty, about illness, about
lack of office, isn’t that enough for me? Won’t all these things be of benefit to
me? How, then, am I to seek for good or bad any longer in external things?

[18] But what does in fact happen? These ideas are accepted as far as the door,
but no one carries them home with him; all at once everyone is at war with his
slave-boy, with his neighbour, with those who mock us, with those who laugh at
us. [19] Good for you, Lesbius,* for proving to me every day that I know
nothing!

3.21 To those who set out to become lecturers without due thought

[1] Those who have taken in the principles raw and without any dressing
immediately want to vomit them up again, just as people with weak stomachs
bring up their food. [2] Digest them first, and then you won’t vomit them up in
this way. Otherwise they do indeed become nothing more than vomit, foul stuff
that isn’t fit to eat. [3] But after having digested them, show us some resulting
change in your ruling centre, just as athletes show in their shoulders the results
of their exercises and diet, and those who have become expert craftsmen can
show the results of what they have learned. [4] A builder doesn’t come forward
and say, ‘Listen to me as I deliver a discourse about the builder’s art,’ but he
acquires a contract to build a house, and shows through actually building it that
he has mastered the art. [5] And you for your part should follow a similar course
of action: eat as a proper human being, drink as a proper human being, dress,
marry, father children, perform your public duties; put up with being abused, put
up with an inconsiderate brother, put up with a father, a son, a neighbour, a
fellow traveller. [6] Show us these things to enable us to see that you really have
learned something from the philosophers.

But no, instead you cry, ‘Come and listen to me reading out my commentaries.’
Away with you, look for someone to vomit over. [7] ‘Yes, but I’ll expound the
teachings of Chrysippus to you like no one else can, and analyse his style with
perfect clarity, and even mix in some of the brio of Antipater and Archedemus.’
[8] So it is for this, then, the young men should leave their homelands and
parents, to come and hear you expatiating on trifling points of language? [9]
Shouldn’t they return home as people who are patient and helpful towards
others, and have minds that are free from passion and agitation, and are
furnished with such provisions for their journey through life that they’ll be able,
by that means, to face up well to everything that comes about, and draw honour
from it? [10] And how can you impart things to others that you yourself don’t
possess? For have you done anything else from the beginning than spend your
whole time examining how solutions can be found for syllogisms, and for
equivocal arguments, and for arguments that are developed through questioning?

‘But So-and-so keeps a school; why shouldn’t I do the same?’

[11] That is not something that one can set about at random, slave, and without
proper thought; one must be of an appropriate age, and follow a certain way of
life, and have God for a guide. [12] You disagree; and yet no one sails out from
a harbour without first having offered a sacrifice to the gods and having
implored their help, nor do people sow the fields in any casual manner, but only
after having first invoked the aid of Demeter;* so can anyone embark safely on
such important work as this without the aid of the gods? [13] And will those who
come to him then meet with good fortune in doing so? What else are you doing,
man, than profaning the Mysteries, and saying, ‘Just as there’s a shrine at
Eleusis, look, there’s one here too. There’s a hierophant* there, I’ll make one
here too; there’s a herald there, I’ll appoint one here too; there’s a torch-bearer
there, I’ll have one here too; there are torches there, there’ll be torches here too.
[14] The words that are spoken are just the same; so what difference is there
between what happens there and what happens here?’ Oh most impious of men,
is there really no difference? Do these actions procure the same benefit if they’re
conducted at the wrong place and at the wrong time? Shouldn’t they be
approached with sacrifices and prayers, and don’t they require that a man should
first have been purified, and have his mind predisposed to the thought that he’ll
be coming to take part in sacred rites, and rites, moreover, that are of great
antiquity? [15] Is it in this way that the Mysteries came to be of benefit; is it in
this way that we came to appreciate that all these things were established by men
of old for our education and for the amendment of our life? [16] But for your
part you’re divulging them to one and all, and parodying them, and conducting
them outside the proper time and place, without sacrifices and without
purification; you don’t wear the costume that the hierophant ought to wear, nor
do you have the right hair or headband, nor the right voice, nor are you of the
right age, nor have you kept yourself pure as he has, but you’ve been satisfied
merely to appropriate the words that he utters and recite them. Are the words,
then, sacred in themselves?

[17] It is in quite another way that we ought to approach these matters. This is a
great undertaking, a solemn mystery, not to be lightly granted to whoever comes
along. [18] To be wise, indeed, is perhaps not even a sufficient qualification for
taking care of the young; one should also have a special aptitude and
predisposition, and yes, by Zeus, a particular physique also, and above all else, a
vocation from God to fulfil this function, [19] as Socrates was called to fulfil
that of cross-examining people, and Diogenes that of rebuking them in a regal
manner, and Zeno that of instructing them and establishing philosophical
doctrines.* [20] But you open up shop as a doctor with no other equipment than
your medicines; as to when or how you should apply them, that you neither
know nor have ever bothered to learn. [21] ‘Look, that man has those eye salves,
and I have just the same.’ Do you have the ability, then, to make proper use of
them? Do you have any idea when and how they’ll do any good, and to whom?

[22] Why, then, are you gambling with matters of the highest importance? Why
are you acting in such an ill-considered manner; why are you embarking on an
enterprise for which you’re entirely unsuited? Leave it to those who are capable
of it, to those who can carry it out with distinction. Don’t bring disgrace to
philosophy for your part, too, through your own actions; don’t range yourself
among those who defame the profession. [23] But if philosophical principles
hold a fascination for you, sit down and reflect on them within yourself, but
don’t ever call yourself a philosopher, and don’t allow anyone else to apply that
name to you. Say rather, ‘He’s mistaken, since my desires are no different from
those that I formerly harboured, nor are my motives any different, nor is my
assent, and in a word, I haven’t changed in the least from my former state with
regard to the way in which I deal with my impressions.’ [24] That is what you
should think and say about yourself, if you want to think aright. Otherwise, carry
on gambling, and continue to act as you do now; for that suits you.

3.22 On the Cynic calling

[1] When one of his pupils, who was showing an inclination towards the Cynic
calling, asked him, ‘What sort of man should a Cynic be, and what idea should
one form of that enterprise?’, Epictetus replied: We’ll consider the matter at our
leisure, [2] but this much I can tell you now, that anyone who embarks on such a
great endeavour without the help of God will incur the wrath of God, and is
wishing for nothing other than to disgrace himself in front of everybody. [3] For
no one comes into a well-ordered household and says to himself, ‘I ought to be
the manager here,’ or if he does, and the master of the house returns to see him
ordering everyone around in a high-handed manner, he’ll drag him outside and
make him pay the price for it. [4] That is the way of things in this great city of
the universe also. For here too there is a master of the house* who issues orders
to one and all. [5] You for your part are the sun, and as you make your orbit
round the heavens, you have the power to give rise to the year and the seasons,
and to give growth and nourishment to the fruits of the earth, and to raise and
calm the winds, and to warm the bodies of human beings in due measure; go
now, and proceed on your circuit, and set all things in motion, from the greatest
to the least. [6] As for you, you’re a calf: when a lion appears, act as is proper
for you, or else you’ll rue the day. But you, you’re a bull,* come forward and
fight, because that is your part in life; it befits you and lies within your power.
[7] And you, you’re capable of leading the army against Troy: be Agamemnon.
And you, you’re capable of fighting against Hector in single combat: be
Achilles. [8] But if Thersites* had come forward and claimed the command,
either he wouldn’t have got it, or if he had, he would have disgraced himself in
front of a multitude of witnesses.
[9] So you too should consider this matter with proper care: it isn’t what you
think it is. [10] ‘I wear a rough cloak even now, and I’ll be wearing one then. I
sleep on a hard bed now, and I’ll sleep on one then. I’ll take up a knapsack and
staff, furthermore, and set off on my rounds, begging from those whom I meet,
and abusing them. And if I see anyone pulling out his body hair, I’ll give him a
scolding, and likewise if his hair is dressed too fussily, or he struts around in
purple robes.’ [11] If you picture the Cynic calling as being something like that,
keep well away from it, don’t come near, because it is not for you. [12] But if
you can form a proper idea of it in your mind and don’t judge yourself unworthy,
consider what a great enterprise it is that you’re embarking on.

[13] First of all, with regard to what concerns you directly, you must no longer
show yourself to be behaving in any respect as you do at present; you must bring
no accusation against either god or man; you must suppress your desires wholly
and completely; you must direct your aversion only towards things that lie
within the sphere of choice; you must harbour neither anger, nor malice, nor
envy, nor pity; you mustn’t find any wench beautiful, nor any scrap of
reputation, nor any boy, nor a honey-cake. [14] For you must be clear in your
mind about this point, that other people have walls and houses and darkness to
protect them when they venture on anything of this kind, and have many means
by which they can hide it away. A man shuts his door, he stations someone in
front of his bedroom, saying, ‘If anyone comes along, say: he’s out, he’s busy.’
[15] But the Cynic, in place of all these defences, must make his own self-
respect* his source of protection; or else he’ll be disgracing himself while he’s
naked and in the open. His self-respect is his house, his door, the watchman in
front of his bedroom, and his darkness. [16] No, he mustn’t want to conceal
anything that relates to him, or else he’s lost, he has destroyed the Cynic in him,
the man who lives in the open, the man who is free, and has begun to fear
something outside himself, has begun to have need of concealment. Nor is he
able to find concealment when he wants to. For where can he conceal himself,
and how? [17] And if by any chance this educator of the general public, this
pedagogue, should get caught, what he must suffer! [18] If he has these fears in
his mind, then, how will he still have the confidence to watch over everyone
else? It’s out of the question, it’s impossible.

[19] You must begin, then, by purifying your own ruling centre, and adopting
this as your plan in life: [20] ‘From this time forth, the material that I must work
upon is my own mind, just as that of a carpenter is wood, and that of a cobbler is
leather; for my work lies in making right use of my impressions. [21] This poor
body of mine is nothing to me, and every part of it is nothing. Death? Let it
come when it will, either to the whole of me, or to any part of me. [22]
Banishment? And where can anyone banish me to? Hardly beyond the bounds of
the universe. No, but wherever I go, the sun will be there, and the moon and the
stars, and dreams, omens, and converse with the gods.’*

[23] And next, even when he is prepared in this way, the true Cynic can’t remain
satisfied with that, but must know that he has been sent to human beings by Zeus
as a messenger,* to show them that they’re wholly mistaken with regard to what
is good and bad, and are seeking the nature of the good and the bad where it is
not to be found, and never think to look for it where it is; [24] he must know too
that, as Diogenes said when he was brought in front of Philip after the battle of
Chaeronea, that he has been sent as a spy. For the Cynic is in truth a spy* who is
seeking to find out what things are friendly to human beings, and what are
hostile; [25] and after having first spied out the ground, he must come back to
report the truth, without allowing himself to be so overcome by fear that he
designates as enemies those who are not, or letting himself be disturbed or
confused in any other way by his impressions.

[26] He must be able, then, if the occasion presents itself, to raise his voice and
mount the tragic stage to speak like Socrates:* ‘Alas, men, where are you
hurrying to? Like blind men, you’re staggering this way and that, you’ve strayed
from the right path and are setting off on quite another, you’re looking for
serenity and happiness where they’re not to be found, and when someone points
you in the right direction, you don’t believe him. [27] Why are you seeking them
outside? In the body? That’s not where they are. If you doubt that, look at
Myron, look at Ophellius.* Nor are they to be found in riches. If you doubt that,
look at Croesus,* look at the rich men of our own day, and all the lamentations
with which their life is filled! Nor are they to be found in power. For if that were
the case, those who’ve been consul two or three times would surely be happy,
and they aren’t. [28] Whom are we to believe about this matter? Those of you
who view the situation of such people from outside and are dazzled by
appearances, or the people themselves?* [29] What do the people themselves
say? Listen to them as they lament and groan, considering their situation to be all
the more miserable and perilous because of those very consulships, and because
of their eminence and glory. [30] Nor are serenity and happiness to be found in
royal power. Otherwise Nero would have been happy, and so would
Sardanapalus.* But even Agamemnon himself wasn’t happy, although he was a
better man than Sardanapalus and Nero; while all the rest are snoring, what is it
that he does? ‘Many hairs does he pull from his head by their roots.’ And what
does he say? ‘Thus do I wander,’ and ‘In my anguish my heart leaps from my
breast.’*

[31] What is going badly for you, poor wretch? Your property? Not that, but
rather, you’re ‘rich in gold and rich in bronze’.* Your body? Not that. So what
is wrong with you? This, that you’ve neglected and ruined that part of you,
whatever it may be, by which we desire things, or seek to avoid them, or
exercise our motives to act or not to act. [32] In what way has this faculty been
neglected? It remains ignorant of the true nature of the good for which it was
born, and of the nature of what is bad, and of what properly concerns it, and of
what is foreign to it. And whenever one of those things that are not its true
concern finds itself in a bad way, it says, ‘Oh alas, the Greeks are in danger!’
[33] Ah, poor ruling centre, which alone remains neglected and uncared for!
‘They’re going to die at the hands of the Trojans!’ And if the Trojans don’t kill
them, they’ll never die at all I suppose? ‘They’ll die, but not all at one time.’
What is the difference? For if it is a bad thing to die, it’s bad whether they die at
the same time or one after another. Will anything else come about than the
separation of the soul from our poor body? ‘Nothing else.’ [34] And if the
Greeks perish, does the door stand closed for you? Isn’t it possible for you to
depart from this life? ‘Indeed it is.’ Why these lamentations, then? ‘Woe is me, a
king and one who holds the sceptre of Zeus!’ A king can’t fall into misfortune
any more than a god can. [35] Who are you, then? Truly a shepherd! For you’re
weeping as shepherds do when a wolf carries off one of their sheep, and the
people you rule over are nothing more than sheep. [36] But why did you come to
Troy anyhow? Your desire wasn’t in peril, was it, or your aversion, or your
motives to act or not to act? ‘No,’ he says, ‘but my brother’s poor wife has been
abducted.’ [37] Isn’t it a considerable gain, then, to be rid of an adulterous wife?
‘So are we to suffer the contempt of the Trojans?’ What kind of people are they?
Wise men or fools? If they’re wise, why are you fighting against them? If
they’re fools, why do you care what they think?*

[38] Where is the good to be found, then, if it doesn’t lie in these things? Tell us,
sir messenger and spy. Where you don’t expect, and where you don’t want to
look for it. Because if you had wanted to, you would have found it inside
yourself, and wouldn’t be wandering outside, seeking after things that are no
concern of yours as though they were your own. [39] Turn your attention
towards yourselves; learn to understand the preconceptions that you have. What
sort of thing do you imagine the good to be? Serenity, happiness, freedom from
constraint. Come then, don’t you imagine it as something that is great by nature?
As something that is precious? As something that lies beyond the reach of harm?
[40] In what kind of material, then, should one seek for serenity and freedom
from constraint? In that which is slave or that which is free?—‘That which is
free.’—And your poor body, then, do you possess that as slave or free?—‘We
don’t know.’—Don’t you know that it is slave to fever, to gout, to eye diseases,
to dysentery, to a tyrant, to fire, to iron, to anything that is stronger than itself?
—‘Yes, it is slave to those.’ [41] —How is it possible, then, that anything that
belongs to the body can be free from constraint? How can something be great or
precious if it is by nature mere lifeless flesh, mere earth, mere clay? So then, do
we possess nothing that is free? [42] —‘Perhaps nothing at all.’—What, can
anyone constrain you to give assent to what seems to you to be false?—‘No one
can.’—Or not to give assent to what seems to you to be true?—‘No one can.’—
Here, man, you can see that you have something in you that is free by nature.*
[43] Now who among you can desire something, or feel an aversion from it, or
feel a motive to act or not to act, or make preparations for something, or set
something for yourself to do, without first forming an impression of what is to
your advantage or what isn’t fitting for you?—‘No one can.’—Here, too, you
can see that you have something in you that is beyond hindrance and free; [44]
cultivate that, you wretches, pay attention to that, and seek your good there.

[45] And how is it possible for a man who owns nothing, and has neither clothes,
nor home, nor hearth, and lives in squalor without a slave, without a country, to
pass his life in serenity? [46] Look now, God has sent us someone to show us by
his example that it is indeed possible. [47] ‘Look at me, I am without a home,
without a country, without possessions, without a slave. I sleep on the ground. I
have neither wife nor children, nor a governor’s palace, but only the ground and
sky and a single rough cloak. [48] And yet, what do I lack? Isn’t it the case that
I’m free from sorrow, free from fear? Am I not free? When did any of you ever
see me failing to attain what I desire, or falling into what I want to avoid? When
have I ever cast any reproach at god or man? When have I ever accused anyone?
Have any of you ever seen me with a sad expression on my face? [49] How do I
treat those who inspire you with fear and awe? Don’t I treat them as though they
were slaves? Who, on seeing me, doesn’t think that he’s seeing his king and
master?’*

[50] These are the words of a Cynic; this is his character, this his plan of life!
No, you say, rather, that what makes a Cynic is a wretched knapsack, a staff, or
strong jaws, or the way in which he swallows down everything that one gives
him, or stores it away, or outrageously insults those whom he meets, or shows
off his fine shoulder.* [51] Do you see in what spirit you’re planning to embark
on such a great enterprise? Begin by picking up a mirror, and look at your
shoulders, examine your loins and your thighs. You’re going to enter your name
for the Olympic Games,* man, not for some wretched second-rate contest. [52]
At the Olympic Games it isn’t possible simply to suffer defeat and then
withdraw, but, in the first place, you must disgrace yourself in front of the entire
civilized world rather than merely in front of the Athenians, the Spartans, or the
people of Nicopolis, and secondly, one who leaves without good reason must
undergo a flogging, and even before that will have suffered thirst and intense
heat, and have swallowed any amount of dust.

[53] Consider the matter with great care; know yourself; consult the divinity;
don’t attempt this enterprise without God. For if God advises you to take this
course, you may be sure that he wants you to become a great man or to suffer
many a blow. [54] For this is a very pretty thread that is woven into the Cynic
way of life, that he must be thrashed like a donkey, and that while being
thrashed, he must love those who beat him as though he were the father or
brother of them all. [55] Oh no, that’s not how you’d react, but if someone beat
you, you’d go and cry out in front of everyone, ‘O Caesar, am I to suffer such
things in breach of your peace? Let’s go in front of the proconsul.’ [56] But what
is Caesar to a Cynic, what is a proconsul, or anyone other than Zeus who has
sent him out on his mission, and whom he serves? Does he call upon anyone
other than Zeus?* Isn’t he convinced that in all these sufferings that he has to
endure, it is Zeus who is placing these demands? [57] Now, Heracles, when he
was meeting the demands of Eurystheus,* didn’t regard himself as miserable,
but unhesitatingly carried out everything that he was ordered to do. So shall one
who is being trained by Zeus and is meeting his demands cry out and make
complaint? Is such a man worthy of carrying the sceptre of Diogenes? [58]
Listen to what he said to those who walked by while he was lying ill with a
fever: ‘You wretches,’ he cried, ‘aren’t you going to stop? You’ll travel all the
way to Olympia to see wrestlers and athletes do battle with one another, and yet
you have no wish to see a man fighting it out with a fever?’

[59] Oh yes, such a man would assuredly have reproached God, who sent him
into this world, for having subjected him to undeserved mistreatment! He who
took such pride in confronting difficulties and offered himself as a spectacle to
passers-by! Why, what could he have reproached God for? Because he is living
in a good and proper manner? What can he accuse him of? That he is displaying
his virtue more splendidly? [60] Come now, what does Diogenes say about
poverty, about death, about hardship? How did he compare his happiness with
that of the Great King?* Or rather, he thought there could be no comparison
between them in that respect. [61] For where there are disturbances, and
sorrows, and fears, and unsatisfied desires, and aversions that fall into what they
want to avoid, and envies and jealousies, how can happiness find its way in
among all of that? And wherever corrupt judgements prevail, all these failings
must necessarily be present.

[62] When the young man asked him whether, if he fell ill and a friend invited
him into his house to be nursed, he should accept the offer, Epicurus replied: But
where will you find me a Cynic’s friend? [63] For such a man would need to be
another Cynic to be accounted worthy of being his friend. He would need to
share the sceptre with him, and the kingdom,* and be a worthy minister, if he
were to be judged worthy of becoming his friend, as Diogenes became the friend
of Antisthenes, and Crates* of Diogenes. [64] Or do you suppose that if
someone merely comes up to greet a Cynic, he’ll become his friend, [65] and
that the Cynic will think him worthy of being received by him? So if you see and
consider the matter in such a way as that, you’d do better to look around for a
nice little dung-hill to have your fever on, one that will shelter you from the
north wind so that you won’t die of cold. [66] But you’d prefer, I think, to go
into someone’s house for a while to fill your stomach. What reason do you have,
then, even to attempt so great an enterprise?

[67] ‘And marrying and having children,’ the young man asked, ‘is that
something that a Cynic should undertake as a priority?’

If you give me a city of wise people,* replied Epictetus, it’s quite likely that no
one will readily embark on the Cynic life. [68] For whose benefit would it serve
for him to adopt that way of life? If we suppose, nonetheless, that he did, there
would be nothing to prevent him from marrying and having children. For his
wife would be another person like himself, as would his fatherin-law, and his
children would be brought up in the same fashion. [69] But as things are set up
at present, when we find ourselves as though in a battle-line, isn’t it necessary
that the Cynic should remain free from all distraction, to dedicate himself wholly
to the service of God, and be able to walk about among people without being
tied down by private duties, or being involved in social relationships that he
cannot violate if he is to preserve his character as a virtuous and good person,
and which he cannot maintain, on the other hand, without destroying his nature
as a messenger, spy, and herald of the gods? [70] For consider, there would be
some duties that he would have to fulfil towards his fatherin-law, some that he
would have to fulfil towards other relations of his wife, or towards his wife
herself, so that he would finally be shut out from his calling to act as a sick-nurse
and provider. [71] Not to mention all the rest: he would need a kettle to heat
water for his baby, so that it could be washed in the bath-tub, and some wool for
his wife when she has had a child, along with some oil, a cot, and a cup (see how
the gear is mounting up), [72] leaving aside all the other things that would take
up his time and distract him. What is left now, I ask you, of that king of ours,
who has time to devote himself to the public interest, ‘who has people to watch
over and so many a care’?* That king who must watch over everyone else, over
those who are married, over those who have children, to see who is treating his
wife well, who is treating her badly, and see who is quarrelling with others, and
which house is at peace and which is not, just like a doctor who is making his
rounds, and says, [73] ‘You have a fever, and you have a headache, and you
have gout; you must fast, you must eat, you mustn’t take a bath; you need an
operation, you need to be cauterized.’ [74] What leisure will a man have for all
of this if he is tied down by private duties? Wouldn’t he have to provide clothing
for his children? Come, wouldn’t he have to send them to their schoolmaster
with their writing tablets and their styluses, and, besides, get their little cot ready
for them? For they could hardly be Cynics from the moment they leave their
mother’s womb! If he didn’t attend to all of this, it would have been better to
expose them at birth than to allow them to perish in such a way. [75] Do you see
to what a level we’re reducing our Cynic, and how we’re depriving him of his
kingdom?

[76] ‘Yes, but Crates married.’

You’re referring to a special case in which the marriage was prompted by love,
and you’re reckoning on a wife who was herself another Crates.* But our present
enquiry is concerned with ordinary marriages in which special circumstances
don’t enter the picture, and in that context, we don’t find that marriage, under
present conditions, is a priority for a Cynic.

[77] ‘In that case,’ the young man asked, ‘how will the Cynic help to keep
human society in existence?’

In the name of God, who renders a greater service to the human race, those who
bring two or three children with ugly snouts into the world to replace them, or
those who keep watch over all human beings, so far as they can, observing what
they do and how they pass their life, and what they devote their care to, and what
they neglect in contravention of their duty? [78] And from whom did the
Thebans draw greater benefit: from all the many men who left children behind
for them, or from Epaminondas, who died childless? And did Homer contribute
less to the common good than Priam, who fathered fifty worthless children, or
than Danaus or Aeolus?* [79] And again, will a military command or the writing
of a book be enough to absolve someone from marrying and fathering children,
so that he shouldn’t be thought to have exchanged his childlessness for nothing
of value, and yet a Cynic’s kingship not be thought to provide adequate
exchange? [80] Could it be, perhaps, that we don’t appreciate the greatness of
the true Cynic, and fail to form an adequate notion of the character of Diogenes,
but look instead towards those Cynics whom we now have in front of us, those
dogs ‘of the table that guard the doors’,* who follow the example of the masters
in no way at all, except perhaps in farting in public, but in nothing apart from
that. [81] Otherwise these Cynic ways wouldn’t disconcert us, and we wouldn’t
be amazed that a Cynic doesn’t marry or father children. He has the whole
human race as his children, man, all the men as sons, all the women as
daughters; and it is in that spirit that he approaches them all and tries to take care
of them. [82] Or do you suppose that it is out of mere officiousness that he
rebukes those whom he meets? No, it’s as a father that he does so, as a brother,
and as a servant of Zeus, who is father of us all.

[83] If you care to, ask me too whether he should get involved in public affairs.*
[84] Blockhead, can you think of any higher form of public business than that in
which he is already engaged? Or would you have him step forward at Athens to
speak about revenues and resources when it is his business to speak to all
humanity, Athenian, Corinthian, and Roman alike, not about resources and
revenues, or peace and war, but about happiness and unhappiness, about good
fortune and bad, about freedom and servitude? [85] When someone is engaged
in such important public business as that, you ask me whether he should play
any part in public affairs? Ask me too whether he’ll take any public post, and I’ll
reply again, Fool, what post could be more important than that which he already
holds?

[86] It is also necessary, however, that the Cynic should have the right kind of
body, because if he comes forward looking like a consumptive, all thin and pale,
his witness would no longer carry the same weight. [87] For he must not only
prove to laymen, by displaying the qualities of his mind, that it is possible to be
virtuous and good without having the things that they set such store on, but he
must also show through his bodily qualities that a plain and simple life lived in
the open air has no deleterious effects even on the body. [88] ‘Look, both I and
my body bear witness to that truth.’ That was the way of Diogenes, for he would
walk around radiant with health, and would attract the attention of the crowd by
the very condition of his body. [89] But a Cynic who arouses pity passes for
being a beggar; everyone turns away from him; he arouses everyone’s disgust.
Nor should he look dirty, so as not to scare people away for that reason too, but
even in his destitution, he should be clean and attractive.

[90] And furthermore, a Cynic needs to have great natural charm and a witty
tongue (otherwise he becomes a pain and nothing more), so as to be able to
respond readily to whatever comes along. [91] So when someone said to
Diogenes, ‘Are you the Diogenes who doesn’t believe in the existence of the
gods?’, he retorted, ‘And how could that be, if I regard you as being hateful to
the gods?’;* [92] or again, when Alexander stood over him while he was asleep
and said, ‘To sleep the whole night through ill befits a man of counsel.’ He
replied while still half-asleep, ‘Who has people to watch over and a multitude of
cares.’*

[93] But above all, the Cynic’s ruling centre needs to be purer than the sun,
otherwise he’ll necessarily be nothing more than a gambler and a rogue, because
he’ll be reprimanding everyone else while being in thrall to some vice himself.
[94] For consider how things stand: while the kings and despots of this world
have their guards and arms that enable them to reprove people and to punish
those who do wrong, however wicked they themselves might be, in the case of
the Cynic, it is neither arms nor guards that give him that power, but his own
conscience. [95] When he sees that he has watched over his fellow human beings
and has toiled on their behalf, and that he has slept with a pure heart, and that his
sleep has left it purer still, and when he sees that his every thought is that of a
friend and servant of the gods, as one who shares in the government of Zeus, and
is ready to say on every occasion, ‘Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, O Destiny,’* and
‘If this is what pleases the gods, so be it,’ [96] why, then, shouldn’t he have the
courage to speak with unsparing frankness to his own brothers, to his children,
and in a word, to all who are of the same blood?

[97] That is why someone who thinks in such a way as this is no mere meddler
or busybody, because he isn’t busying himself with other people’s affairs when
he inspects the doings of human beings, but is carrying out his own business;
otherwise you should also call a general a busybody when he inspects his troops,
and reviews them, and watches over them, and punishes those who misbehave.
[98] But if you reprove others while holding a little cake under your arm, I’ll say
to you, Wouldn’t you rather go off into a corner to devour what you’ve stolen?
[99] How are other people’s affairs any concern of yours? For who are you? Are
you the bull of the herd; are you the queen of the bees? Show me such tokens of
authority as the queen has by nature. But if you’re a drone who is laying claim to
sovereignty over the bees, don’t you think that your fellow citizens will drive
you away, just as bees drive away the drones?

[100] A Cynic must have such powers of endurance that he strikes the crowd as
being insensible and like a stone. No one can insult him, no one can strike him,
no one can assault him; as for his poor body, he himself has handed that over for
anyone to deal with as he thinks fit. [101] For he keeps in mind that what is
weaker must necessarily be overcome by what is stronger, in that respect in
which it is weaker, and that his body is weaker than the crowd, as what is
physically weaker must be to what is stronger. [102] So he never enters into this
contest in which he can be defeated, but renounces once and for all what is not
truly his own, laying no claim to what is slavish. [103] But when it comes to his
capacity of choice and use of impressions, there you’ll see that he has so many
eyes that you could say that Argus* was blind by comparison. [104] Is over-
hasty assent ever to be found in him, or ill-considered impulse, or any frustrated
desire, or any aversion that falls into what it wants to avoid, or any unfulfilled
purpose, or any fault-finding, meanness of spirit, or envy? [105] It is to these
matters that he devotes all his attention and energy; but when anything else
comes into play, he lies back and snores, and is wholly at peace. No one can rob
him of his power of choice, or exert mastery over it. But over his poor body?
Yes. [106] And over his miserable possessions? Yes, and over his offices and
honours too. But what does he care about any of that? When anyone tries to
scare him by means of such things, he says, ‘Go and look for some children;
they’re afraid of empty masks, but I know that they’re made of clay and have
nothing inside them.’

[107] Such is the nature of the enterprise that you’re considering. So I ask
you, in the name of God, to defer your decision for a while, if you will, and
check first whether you have the resources for it. [108] For see what Hector says
to Andromache: ‘Go rather into the house’, he tells her, ‘and weave,

But war shall be the business of men,

 Of all men, but of me most of all.’*

[109] So aware was he of his own resources, and of her incapacity.

3.23 To those who read and discuss for mere display

[1] Tell yourself first of all what kind of person you want to be, and then act
accordingly in all that you do. For in almost every other pursuit we see this to be
the course that is followed. [2] Athletes first decide what kind of athlete they
want to be, and then act accordingly. If someone wants to be a long-distance
runner, he adopts a particular diet, a particular way of walking, a particular form
of massage, and particular exercises; if someone wants to be a sprinter, these are
all rather different; and if someone wants to be a pentathlete, they’re more
different again. [3] You’ll find the same is true in the crafts, too. If you want to
be a carpenter, you’ll have to do such and such, if a blacksmith, certain other
things. For in all that we do, unless we refer our actions to some end, we’ll be
acting at random; and if we don’t refer them to an appropriate end, we’ll go
badly wrong.

[4] There is, besides, a particular end and a general end. First of all, I must act as
a human being. What does that involve? That one shouldn’t act like a sheep,
even if one is gentle in one’s behaviour, and one shouldn’t act injuriously like a
wild beast. [5] The particular end relates to each person’s specific occupation
and moral choice. The lyre-player must act as a lyre-player, the carpenter as a
carpenter, the philosopher as a philosopher, the orator as an orator. [6] So when
you say, ‘Come and listen to the lecture that I’m going to deliver to you,’ check
first of all that you’re not embarking on it without due consideration; and then, if
you find that you are in fact referring your actions to an end, consider whether it
is the appropriate end. [7] Do you want to do good or merely be praised? At
once you hear the answer, ‘But what interest could the praise of the crowd have
for me?’, and that is rightly said. For it is of no concern to a musician, in so far
as he is a musician, or to a geometer. [8] You want to be of benefit to others,
don’t you? In what? Tell us, so that we may rush off to your lecture-room. Now,
is it possible to bring benefit to others where one has brought no benefit to
oneself? No indeed, no more than someone who isn’t a carpenter can be of use to
others with regard to carpentry, or someone who isn’t a shoemaker with regard
to shoemaking.
[9] Do you want to know, then, whether you have gained any benefit? Bring
forth your judgements, philosopher. What does desire promise? Not to fail in
getting what one desires. What does aversion promise? Not to fall into what one
wants to avoid. [10] Well now, do we fulfil what they promise? Tell me the
truth. If you reply falsely, I’ll say to you, ‘The other day, when your audience
gathered with no great enthusiasm and didn’t applaud, you walked out feeling
thoroughly dejected. [11] On another occasion, when you did receive some
applause, you walked out asking everybody, ‘What did you think of
me?’—‘Upon my life, sir, that was splendid.’—‘How did I deliver that
passage?’—‘Which?’—‘The one where I gave the description of Pan and the
Nymphs.’—‘Magnificently.’ [12] —And then you come to me and claim that in
your desires and aversions, you manage to remain in accordance with nature?
Off with you, and try to persuade someone else! [13] And the other day, didn’t
you shower someone with praise contrary to your real opinion? Didn’t you
flatter that senator? Would you want your children to be as he is?—‘Heaven
forbid!’ [14] —Then why did you praise him and dance attendance on him?
—‘He’s a gifted young man who likes to listen to recitals.’—How do you know?
—‘He admires me.’—So you’ve come forth with your proof! What do you
suppose, then? That these same people don’t secretly despise you? [15] When a
man who is conscious of never having done or thought anything of value finds a
philosopher who tells him, ‘You’re wonderfully gifted, a man of unimpaired
integrity,’ what else do you suppose that he can say to himself except ‘This
fellow is seeking to make use of me in some way’? [16] Or else, tell me, what
work of genius has he produced? Look, man, he has been associating with you
all this time; he has been listening to your discourses and has heard your
lectures. Has he acquired self-restraint? Has he looked in on himself? Has he
become aware of the bad state that he is in? Has he renounced his conceit? [17]
Is he looking around for someone to instruct him?

‘Yes, he’s looking around.’

For someone who’ll teach him about how he ought to live? No, you fool, about
how he ought to speak! Because that is the reason why he admires even you!
Listen to him. What does he say? ‘This man writes in a most artistic style, even
more elegantly than Dio.’* [18] This is something quite different. He isn’t
saying, is he, that ‘This man is honourable, this man is trustworthy, this man has
an untroubled mind’? And even if he did say that, I’d reply to him, ‘Since this
man is trustworthy, in what exactly does his trustworthiness consist?’, and if he
were unable to reply, I’d add, ‘First learn what you’re talking about, and then
you can talk.’

[19] While you’re in such a wretched state as this, then, and have such a
hankering for praise, is it by counting the number of people in your audience that
you wish to do good to others?—‘Today I had a much bigger audience.’—‘Yes,
there were lots of people.’—‘I think there must have been five
hundred.’—‘Nonsense, make it a thousand.’—‘Dio never had as many people
listening to him.’—‘How could he?’—‘And they have a fine feeling for points of
style.’—‘Beauty, Sir, can move even a stone.’

[20] Behold the language of a philosopher; behold the state of mind of one who
wants to be of benefit to his fellow men! Here is a man who has listened to the
voice of reason, who has read the Socratic literature as one should read Socratic
works, and not as one reads those of Lysias and Isocrates!* ‘Often have I
wondered by what arguments …’ No, but rather, ‘by what argument’, that runs
more smoothly than the other.* [21] For have you read these writings in any
other way than one reads cheap songs? Because if you’d read them as you ought,
you wouldn’t have lingered over such trifles, but would have turned your view to
passages like these: ‘Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but they cannot harm me,’
and again, ‘It has always been my nature not to pay any attention to my personal
affairs, but only to the argument that seems to me on due consideration to be the
best.’* [22] And for that reason, who ever heard Socrates say, ‘I know
something and teach it’? But rather, he used to send people elsewhere, one to
one instructor, and one to another. People would thus come to him and ask him
to introduce them to philosophers, and he would take them off and introduce
them.* [23] But no, you fancy that as he was going along with them, he would
say, ‘Come and listen to me today as I deliver a discourse in the house of
Quadratus.’* Why should I listen to you? Do you want to show me how
elegantly you can string words together? You can do so very nicely, man; and
what good does it do you?

‘But give me some praise.’ [24] —What do you mean by praise?—‘Say

“Bravo!” to me, or “That’s marvellous!”’—Very well, I’ll say that. But if praise
is one of those things that philosophers class in the category of the good, what
praise can I offer you? If it is a good thing to speak correctly, teach me that and
I’ll praise you.

[25] ‘What, then, should one listen to fine talk without pleasure?’
Heaven forbid! For my part, I don’t even listen to a lyre-player without feeling
pleasure. But surely that doesn’t provide any reason why I should stand up and
sing while strumming on a lyre? Listen to what Socrates says: [26] ‘Nor would it
be fitting for me, gentlemen of the jury, at my time of life, to appear before you
and weave fine words together like a schoolboy.’* He says, ‘Like a schoolboy’.
For it is, in truth, an elegant accomplishment, to choose out pretty words and put
them together, and come forward to read or recite them in a graceful manner,
and then exclaim in the middle of the reading, ‘On your life, I declare that there
aren’t many people who understand these things!’

[27] Does a philosopher invite people to come and listen to him? Isn’t it the case,
rather, that just as the sun draws its nourishment to itself without need for further
action,* a philosopher likewise draws those whom he can benefit? What doctor
ever invites anyone to come to him to be cured? Although I hear that doctors in
Rome nowadays do invite custom; but in my day, it was they who were invited
in. [28] ‘I invite you to come and hear that you’re in a bad way, and that you
attend to everything except what you should be attending to, and that you don’t
know what is good or bad, and that you’re miserable and unfortunate.’ A fine
invitation that would be! And yet if a philosopher’s discourse doesn’t produce
that effect, it has no life in it, nor does the man who is delivering it. [29] Rufus
was in the habit of saying, ‘If you find time to praise me, I’m saying nothing of
value.’ And indeed, he used to speak in such a way that each of us, as we sat in
front of him, would imagine that someone must have been informing him of our
faults, since he showed such a sure touch in assessing our condition, and setting
each man’s failings before his eyes.

[30] A philosopher’s school, man, is a doctor’s surgery. You shouldn’t leave

after having had an enjoyable time, but after having been subjected to pain. For
you weren’t in good health when you came in; no, one of you had a dislocated
shoulder, another an abscess, another a headache. [31] Am I to sit, then, and
regale you with pretty thoughts and fine sayings, so that you’ll go out singing
my praises, one having his shoulder just as it was when he brought it in, another
having his head in the same state, another still having his fistula, and another his
abscess? [32] Is it for this that young men are to travel away from home, and
leave their parents, friends, relations, and what small property they have, so that
they can shout, ‘Bravo!’ when you come up with your fine sayings? Is that what
Socrates used to do, or Zeno, or Cleanthes?

[33] ‘What, isn’t there a special style that is used for exhortation?’
Who denies it? Just as there is a style that is employed for refutation or for
didactic purposes. But who has ever mentioned a fourth style in addition, a style
for display?* [34] So what is the nature of the style that is used for exhortation?
It is the style that enables one to show an individual, or a number of people, the
contradictions in which they’re entangled, and that they’re giving thought to
everything other than what they truly want; for they want the things that are
conducive to happiness, but are looking for them elsewhere than where they’re
to be found. [35] To achieve this end, is it necessary that any number of benches
should be set out, and that an audience should be invited, so that you may lean
on a cushion dressed in a fancy cloak or mantle and describe how Achilles met
his death? I implore you, by the gods, to stop doing all that you can to bring
noble names and deeds into disrepute. [36] Never is exhortation more effective
than when the speaker makes his hearers clearly understand that he has need of
them. [37] But tell me who, on hearing you recite or lecture or conduct a
discussion, has come to feel greatly concerned about himself, and to look in
upon himself, or has gone out saying, ‘That philosopher has really shaken me, I
should no longer act as I do’? [38] Isn’t it true, on the contrary, that when you’ve
met with any notable success, one man says to another, ‘What he said about
Xerxes was most elegantly expressed,’ to which the other replies, ‘No, I
preferred his account of the battle of Thermopylae.’ Is that what it means to
listen to a philosopher?

3.24 That we should not become attached to things that are not
within our power

[1] Don’t let that which is contrary to nature in another be an evil for you, for
you were born to share not in the humiliations or misfortunes of others, but in
their good fortune. [2] If anyone suffers misfortune, remember that he suffers it
through his own fault, since God created all human beings to enjoy happiness, to
enjoy peace of mind. [3] He has provided them with the resources to achieve
this, giving each person some things as his own, and others not as his own.
Those that are open to hindrance, removal, or compulsion are not our own, while
all that is immune to hindrance is our own; and the nature of the good and the
bad he has granted to us among the things that are our own, as was fitting for
one who watches over us and protects us like a true father.

[4] ‘But I’ve parted from So-and-so and he’s inconsolable.’

Man, why did he consider what is not his own to be his own? Why didn’t he
reflect, when he enjoyed the pleasure of seeing you, that you’re mortal and that
you’re liable to move to another place? So he is simply paying the penalty for
his own foolishness. [5] But you, why are you paying for anything? Why are you
shedding tears for yourself? Or is it that you too have failed to reflect on these
things, but have instead, like women of no value, taken delight in all that you’ve
enjoyed, the places, the people, and the way of life, as though they would last for
ever? And now you sit and weep because you can no longer see the same people,
or pass your time in the same places. [6] You deserve, then, to be more wretched
than crows and ravens, which can fly wherever they please, and build their nests
in different places, and cross the seas without groaning or yearning for their
former home.

[7] ‘Yes, but it’s because they’re irrational creatures that they feel in that way.’

Has reason been granted to us by the gods, then, for our misfortune and
unhappiness, so that we may pass our lives in perpetual misery and lamentation?
[8] Or is everyone to be immortal and never leave home, but stay rooted in one
spot like a plant? And if anyone from our circle leaves home, shall we sit down
and weep, and then, if he comes back, dance about and clap our hands like
children?

[9] Shall we not wean ourselves once and for all, and call to mind what we’ve
learned from the philosophers [10] —unless we merely listened to them as one
listens to weavers of spells—when they said that this universe constitutes only a
single city, and that the substance from which it has been fashioned is single too,
and that there must be a periodic revolution when one thing gives way to
another, and when some things are dissolved while others come into being, and
some things remain where they are while others are moved elsewhere; [11] that
everything is full of friends, furthermore, first the gods and then human beings
too, who by nature form one family with one another; and that some people must
remain with one another, while others must leave, and that we should take
delight in those with whom we live, without being upset to see others go away.
[12] And that human beings, in addition to being noble-minded by nature and
capable of feeling contempt for all that lies outside the sphere of choice, also
possess this further quality, of not being rooted down or attached to the earth, but
being able to move from one place to another, sometimes under the pressure of
specific needs, sometimes merely so as to enjoy the spectacle.*
[13] It was something of this kind that happened to Odysseus, ‘Cities of many
men he saw, and learned their ways’, and earlier still, it fell to Heracles to travel
around the entire inhabited earth, ‘Viewing the wickedness of men and their
lawful ways’,* banishing the former to clear the world of it, while introducing
the latter in its place. [14] And yet how many friends do you suppose he had in
Thebes, how many in Argos, how many in Athens, and how many new friends
he gained as he was travelling around, considering that he would even take a
wife when the moment seemed right to him, and father children; and these
children he would abandon without lamentation or regret, and without feeling
that he was leaving them behind to be orphans; [15] for he knew that no human
being is an orphan, but that all have a father who takes care of them constantly
and for ever. [16] Because to him it was not merely a matter of hearsay that Zeus
is the father of human beings, but he truly regarded him as his own father, and
called him so, and looked to him in all that he did. That is why he was able to
live happily wherever he was. [17] But it is impossible to be happy and yet yearn
at the same time for things that are not at hand. For a being that is happy must be
in possession of all that it wants; it must resemble a man who has eaten his fill; it
must feel neither hunger nor thirst.

[18] ‘Yes, but Odysseus yearned for his wife, and sat down on a rock and wept.’

And why do you put faith in everything that Homer says and believe his tales?*
If it is indeed true that Odysseus wept, what could he have been but miserable?
But what good and virtuous man can be miserable? [19] Truly this is an ill-
governed universe if Zeus doesn’t set out to ensure that his own fellow citizens
should be happy like himself. No, that is unthinkable; it is sheer impiety to
suppose any such thing, [20] and if Odysseus shed tears and wept, then he
wasn’t a good man. For how can someone be good if he doesn’t know who he
is? And who could know that if he’d forgotten that everything that comes into
being is bound to perish, and that it isn’t possible for one human being to live
with another for ever and a day? [21] What follows, then? That to desire the
impossible is the mark of a slave and a fool; it is the behaviour of one who is a
stranger in the world, and is fighting against God through the only means that is
available to him, through his own judgements.

[22] ‘But my mother grieves at not seeing me.’

Then why hasn’t she learned these principles? And I’m not saying that you
shouldn’t make an effort to stop her from grieving, but that we shouldn’t wish at
all costs for things that are not our own. [23] Now, someone else’s grief is not
my own concern, but my own grief is. It is thus my responsibility to put an end
to it at all cost, because that is within my power; as to the grief of another, I’ll
strive to put an end to it so far as I am able, but won’t strive to do so at all costs.
[24] Otherwise I’ll be pitting myself against the gods; I’ll be setting myself in
opposition to Zeus, and be ranging myself against him with regard to the
ordering of the universe. And the penalty for this contest against God, and for
this disobedience, won’t be paid by my children’s children, but by myself in
person, both by day and by night, when I’m startled out of my dreams, when I’m
troubled in my mind, when I tremble at every message, when my inner peace
hangs on letters from other people. [25] Someone has arrived from Rome—‘I
only hope there’s no bad news!’ Why, what harm can come to you there when
you’re not even present? Someone has arrived from Greece—‘I only hope
there’s no bad news!’ Why, at this rate any place can be a source of misfortune
to you! [26] Isn’t it enough for you to be unhappy where you actually are, but
must you be unhappy too beyond the seas and by correspondence? Is that the
security in which your affairs stand?

[27] ‘Yes, but what if my friends over there should die?’

Why, what else than that mortals have met their death? How can you wish to
reach old age and yet, at the same time, not to see any of those whom you love
come to die? [28] Don’t you know that over a long stretch of time, many things
of every kind are bound to occur? That a fever will get the better of one person,
and a robber of another, and a tyrant of someone else again? [29] Such is the
nature of the world around us, such is the nature of the people with whom we
share it; heat or cold, an unsuitable diet, a journey by land or by sea, the winds of
the air, dangers of every kind, will cause one person to perish, another to be
driven into exile, another to be dispatched on an embassy, and another to be sent
out on a campaign. [30] Sit down, then, and get upset by all of these things, and
grieve, and be unfortunate and miserable, and be at the mercy of any external
event, and not just of one or two, but of thousands and thousands.

[31] Is that what you’ve heard from the philosophers, is that what you’ve
learned? Don’t you know that this life is like a campaign? One man must keep
guard, another go out on reconnaissance, and another go into battle. It isn’t
possible for all to remain in the same place, nor would it be better that they
should. [32] But you neglect to perform the duties assigned to you by your
general, and complain when you’re given an order that’s at all hard, and fail to
realize to what state you’re reducing the army, so far as you can; because if
everyone follows your example, no one will dig a trench, or build a palisade, or
keep watch at night, or expose himself to danger, but everyone will show
himself useless as a soldier. [33] Again, if you embark on a ship as a sailor,
settle down in a single spot and never leave it. If it should be necessary for you
to climb the mast, refuse to do so; if you have to run along to the bow, refuse
again. And what captain will put up with you? Won’t he throw you overboard as
a useless piece of tackle, a mere obstruction, and a bad example to the other
sailors? [34] So likewise in the present case, the life of every one of us is a
campaign, and a long one subject to varying circumstances. You must fulfil the
role of a soldier and carry out every deed as your general bids, [35] divining his
will so far as is possible. For there is no comparison between this general and an
ordinary one, with regard either to his power or to the superiority of his
character. [36] You’ve been stationed in an imperial city, not in some wretched
little hole, and you’re to be a senator for life.* Don’t you know that a man of that
kind has little time to devote to his domestic affairs, but must spend most of his
time away from home giving and receiving orders, or serving as an official, or
going out on campaign, or sitting as a judge? And then you tell me that you want
to be fixed in one spot like a plant and take root there. [37] —‘Yes, that’s
pleasant.’—But a sauce is pleasant too, and so is a pretty woman. What else do
those people say who make pleasure their end?

[38] Don’t you realize what kind of men they are whose language you’ve been
using? That they’re Epicureans and perverts? And then, when you’re behaving
like them and sharing their opinions, you’re going to cite the words of Zeno and
Socrates to us? [39] Why don’t you cast them away from you, as far as you can,
those alien adornments that you’ve adopted, which are altogether unsuitable for
you? What else do these people desire than to sleep without hindrance or
compulsion, and when they’ve risen from their bed, to yawn at their leisure, and
wash their faces, and then read and write as the fancy takes them, and then talk
some nonsense or other, winning applause from their friends whatever it might
be, and then go out for a walk, and having taken a short stroll, take their bath,
eat, and go to bed, in the kind of bed, moreover, in which such people are most
likely to sleep.* Need one say more? For it may easily be guessed.

[40] Come now, you for your part must also tell me about your own way of life,
the life that you aspire to follow as one who is eager for the truth and seeks to
emulate Socrates and Diogenes. What is it that you want to do in Athens? [41]
The very things that I’ve just mentioned? Why do you call yourself a Stoic,
then? When those who lay false claim to Roman citizenship are severely
punished, should those who lay false claim to a title and calling as great and
venerable as this be allowed to escape without penalty? [42] Or is that quite
impossible, but that rather, a law that is divine, all-powerful, and inescapable
exacts the heavier penalties on those who commit the graver offences? [43] For
what does this law say? ‘Let anyone who pretends to possess qualities that have
nothing to do with him be a braggart, be vainglorious; let anyone who disobeys
the divine order be base, be a slave, and let him grieve, let him feel envy, let him
feel pity, and, in a word, be miserable and lament.’

[44] ‘What, then, would you have me pay court to So-and-so and approach his
door?’*

If reason demands that for the sake of your country, of your family, of humanity,
why shouldn’t you go? You’re not ashamed to visit the door of a shoemaker
when you need shoes, or that of a market gardener when you need lettuces, and
yet you’re ashamed to visit the door of the rich when you have need of what they
have to offer? [45] —‘Yes, because I don’t have any esteem for a shoemaker.’—
Then don’t have any for a rich man either.—‘And I won’t have to flatter the
market gardener.’—Then don’t flatter the rich man either. [46] —‘In that case,
how will I get what I need?’—Is that what I’m telling you, ‘Go with the
intention of getting what you ask,’ rather than simply, ‘Go so that you may do
what is appropriate to you’?

[47] ‘Then why should I go at all?’

To have gone there, and to have fulfilled your part as a citizen, a brother, a
friend. [48] And besides, you should remember that you’ve come to see a
shoemaker, a seller of vegetables, a man who has authority over nothing great or
valuable, even if he sells his merchandise at a high price. You’re going there like
someone who’s going in search of lettuces, and they cost an obol, not a talent.
[49] Likewise in the present case too; the matter is worth the trouble of my going
to his door. Very well, I’ll go. It is also worth exchanging some words with him.
Very well, I’ll do so. Yes, but it is also necessary that I should kiss his hand and
flatter him with various compliments. Be off with you! That would be like
paying a talent. It is profitable neither to me, nor to the city, nor to my friends,
thus to destroy the good citizen and friend in me.

[50] ‘But if you don’t succeed, people will think you haven’t put any effort into
it.’

Have you forgotten again why you went? Don’t you know that someone who is
virtuous and good never acts for the sake of appearances, but only for the sake of
having acted rightly?

[51] ‘So what benefit does he gain from having acted rightly?’

What benefit does someone gain from having written the name ‘Dion’ as it
ought to be written? That of having written it.

‘Is there no further reward, then?’

Do you seek any greater reward for a good person than that of accomplishing
what is virtuous and right? [52] At Olympia you don’t ask for anything further
but think it quite enough to receive an Olympic crown. Does it appear to you to
be such a small and worthless thing to be virtuous, good, and happy? [53] When
the gods have introduced you into this city of the universe for that purpose, and
it is now your duty to accomplish the work of a man, do you still hanker for
nurses and the breast, and do you allow yourself to be moved and reduced to
effeminacy by the weeping of poor foolish women? Will you never cease, then,
to behave like a little child? Doesn’t someone who acts like a child become the
more ridiculous the older he grows?

[54] At Athens, did you never go to see anyone, visiting him in his house?
—‘Yes, the man I wanted to see.’—Here again, make up your mind to see this
man, and see whom you want; only, do so in no submissive manner, and without
desire or aversion, and then things will go well for you. [55] But that result
doesn’t depend on your going to the house or standing at the door, but on the
judgements within you. [56] When you’ve come to despise external things and
all that lies outside the sphere of choice, and have come to regard none of that as
being your own, but to consider one thing alone to be yours, to judge and think
rightly, and to exercise your motives, desires, and aversions rightly, what room
is left for flattery or self-abasement? [57] Why do you still yearn for the peace
that you enjoyed there, and for your familiar haunts? Wait a short while and
these places will become familiar to you in their turn. And then, if you’re so
mean-spirited, weep and groan again when you have to leave these places too.

[58] ‘How am I to show my affection, then?’

As fits a noble-minded person, as fits someone of good fortune; for reason never
demands that we should be self-abasing or broken-spirited, or should become
dependent on another, or should ever find fault with either god or human being.
[59] That is how I would have you show affection, as one who observes these
rules. But if as a result of this affection, or whatever it is that you call affection,
you’re going to be slavish and miserable, it does you no good to be affectionate.
[60] And what is to prevent you from loving somebody as one who is subject to
death, as one who may have to leave you? Did Socrates have no love for his
children? He did, but he loved them as a free man, as one who remembered that
his first duty was to be a friend to the gods. [61] That is why he didn’t fail to
fulfil any of the duties of a good man, either in making his defence, or in
proposing a penalty for himself, or indeed at an earlier time when he was serving
on the council or as a soldier.* [62] But we for our part find all manner of
excuses to explain away our mean-spirited behaviour, some saying it is because
of a child, others because of their mother, or others again because of their
brothers. [63] Now it isn’t fitting for us to be unhappy because of anyone else,
but we should instead be happy because of everyone else, and first and foremost
because of God, who has created us for this end. [64] Come, was there anyone at
all whom Diogenes didn’t love, a man who was so kind and benevolent that he
cheerfully underwent any number of toils and physical hardships for the
common good of humanity? Yes, he did love people, but in what way? [65] As
was right and proper for a servant of Zeus, being at once full of care for others
and obedient to God. [66] That is why he alone had the entire earth for his
homeland, rather than any land in particular; and after he was taken captive, he
didn’t yearn for Athens and his friends and acquaintances there, but befriended
the pirates themselves and tried to reform them. And later, when he was sold into
slavery in Corinth, he lived there in just the same way as he had previously lived
in Athens, and if he had gone off to the Perrhaebians,* he would have conducted
himself in exactly the same manner.

[67] That is how one acquires freedom. He used to say accordingly, ‘Ever since
Antisthenes set me free,* I’ve ceased to be a slave.’ [68] And how did
Antisthenes set him free? Listen to what Diogenes says: ‘He taught me what is
my own and what isn’t my own. Property isn’t my own; relations, family,
friends, reputation, familiar places, conversation with others, none of these are
my own.’ [69] What is your own, then? ‘The proper use of impressions. He
showed me that I possess that power free from all hindrance and constraint; no
one can obstruct me; no one can force me to deal with impressions other than I
wish. [70] Who still holds any power over me, then? Philip, Alexander,
Perdiccas,* or the King of Persia? How could they? For someone who is
destined to be overpowered by another human being must first have been
overpowered well before by things.’ [71] So accordingly, that person who
doesn’t allow himself to be overpowered by pleasure, or by suffering, or by
glory, or by wealth, and who is capable, whenever he thinks fit, of spitting his
entire miserable body into some tyrant’s face and taking his leave—to what can
such a man still be a slave; to whom can he still be subject? [72] But if he had
continued to live a pleasant life in Athens, and had let himself fall under the spell
of the way of life there, his affairs would have been subject to everyone’s
control, and everyone who was stronger than him would have had the power to
cause him distress. [73] How do you imagine he would have cajoled the pirates
into selling him to some Athenian, so that he might be able to see the beautiful
Piraeus again, and the Long Walls, and the Acropolis? [74] And as what sort of a
man would you be seeing them, slave? As one who is slavish and submissive.
[75] So what good would it do you?

‘No, but as one who is free.’

Show me in what way you’re free. Look, someone or other has seized hold of
you, and takes you away from your accustomed way of life, saying, ‘You’re my
slave, because it’s in my power to prevent you from living as you want; it’s in
my power to set you free or abase you; whenever I please, you can be of good
cheer again, and set off for Athens in the best of spirits.’ [76] What do you say to
this man who has enslaved you? Who are you going to offer to him as your
emancipator? Isn’t it the case that you daren’t even look him in the face, but that,
putting aside all further argument, you’re going to beg him to set you free? [77]
Man, you ought to set off joyfully for prison, hurrying on your way, and running
ahead of those who are taking you there. And then, reluctant though you are to
live in Rome, are you yearning for Greece? And when you have to die, you’ll
come weeping to us once more because you’ll never see Athens again or be able
to walk around in the Lyceum?*

[78] Was it for this that you left the land of your birth? What is for this that
you’ve been seeking to attach yourself to somebody who could help you? Help
you in what respect? To be able to analyse syllogisms with greater ease, or to
deal methodically with hypothetical arguments? And was it for this reason that
you left your brother, country, friends, and family, to be able to return home with
knowledge of such a kind? [79] And so you didn’t travel abroad to acquire
firmness of mind; it wasn’t to achieve impassibility; it wasn’t to become secure
from harm, and thus no longer blame anyone or find fault with anyone; and it
wasn’t to make it impossible for anyone else to wrong you, and so be able to
maintain your social relationships without ever being subject to hindrance? [80]
That is a fine piece of trading that you’ve accomplished, to be able to bring back
syllogisms and equivocal and hypothetical arguments! Yes, if you care to, go
and sit in the marketplace with a sign in front of you as the drug sellers do. [81]
Shouldn’t you deny, rather, that you know even what you’ve learned, so as not
to bring your philosophical doctrines into disrepute as being useless? What harm
has philosophy ever done to you? What wrong has Chrysippus done you that you
should set out to prove by your own example that his efforts were pointless?
Didn’t you have enough troubles at home to cause you sorrow and distress,
without your having to travel abroad to add still more to their number? [82] And
if you gain new friends and acquaintances, you’ll have yet more reasons to
lament, and so too if you get attached to another land. What reason do you have
for living, then? To pile one sorrow on top of another to make yourself
miserable? [83] And then you call this natural affection? What kind of affection,
man? If it’s good, it can’t be the source of anything bad; if it’s bad, I’ll have
nothing to do with it. I was born for the things that are good for me; I wasn’t
born for those that are bad.

[84] What, then, is the proper training for this? First of all, the highest and
principal form of training, which stands, so to speak, right at the entrance, that
whenever you become attached to anything, don’t become attached as though it
were something that cannot be taken away, but rather as though it were
something like an earthenware pot or crystal goblet, so that if it should get
broken, you’ll remember what kind of thing it was and not get unduly upset. [85]
So, too, in life, when you kiss your child, your brother, your friend, never let
your imagination run free, or your transports carry you as far as they might wish,
but hold them back, restrain them, like those who stand behind generals when
they’re riding in triumph and keep reminding them that they’re mortal. [86] In
the same way, you should remind yourself that what you love is mortal, that
what you love is not your own; it has been granted to you just for the present, not
irrevocably, and not for ever, but like a fig or bunch of grapes, for a particular
season of the year; so that if you long for it in the winter, you’re a fool. [87] And
likewise, if you long for your son or friend at a time when he’s no longer granted
to you, you should know that you’re longing for a fig in winter. For as winter is
to a fig, so is every circumstance that arises from the general order of things in
relation to the things that are destroyed in accordance with that circumstance.
[88] From now on, whenever you take delight in anything, call to mind the
opposite impression; what harm is there in your saying beneath your breath as
you’re kissing your child, ‘Tomorrow you’ll die’? Or similarly to your friend,
‘Tomorrow you’ll go abroad, or I will, and we’ll never see one another again.’

[89] ‘But those are words of bad omen.’

Yes, and so are some incantations, but I don’t mind, provided only that they do
good. Do you call anything ill-omened except what signifies something bad for
us? [90] Cowardice is ill-omened, meanness of spirit is ill-omened, as is sorrow,
affliction, lack of shame. These are words of ill omen; and yet we oughtn’t to
shrink from uttering even these words, if it will enable us to guard against the
things themselves. [91] But would you describe any word to me as ill-omened if
it refers to something that follows from the course of nature? Say that it is also of
bad omen for ears of corn to be harvested, because that signifies the destruction
of the corn. Say that it is ill-omened, too, for leaves to fall, and for a fresh fig to
turn into a dried one, and for grapes to turn into raisins. [92] For all these things
involve change from a preceding state to a new and different one; it’s not a
matter of destruction, but of ordered management and administration. [93]
Travelling abroad is like that: a change, and a small change; death is like that: a
bigger change from what presently is, not into what is not, but rather into what
presently is not.

[94] ‘So I’ll no longer exist, then?’

You won’t exist, but something else will, of which the world then has need. For
indeed, you came into being not when you wanted it, but when the world had
need of you. [95] And so a virtuous and good person, keeping in mind who he is,
and where he has come from, and by whom he was created, concentrates on one
thing alone: how he may fill his post in a disciplined manner, remaining obedient
to God: [96] ‘Is it your will that I should continue to live? I’ll live as a free
person, someone of noble spirit, as was your desire, for you created me to be free
from hindrance in all that is my own. [97] But now you no longer have need of
me? Just as you will. Up until now, it was because of you that I’ve remained
here, not for anyone else, and now I obey you and depart.’ [98] —‘How do you
depart?’—‘Again in accordance with your wish, as a free person, as your
servant, as one who takes note of your commands and your prohibitions. [99]
But as long as I remain in your service, what kind of person do you want me to
be? A magistrate or a private citizen, a senator or a commoner, a soldier or a
general, a teacher or the head of a household? Whatever post and rank you
assign to me, as Socrates says, I’ll die a thousand times rather than abandon it.
[100] And where do you want me to be? At Rome, at Athens, at Thebes, or at
Gyara?* I ask only one thing of you, that you remember me there. [101] If you
send me to a place where it is impossible for anyone to live in accord with
nature, I’ll depart from this life, not out of disobedience to you, but because you
will have sounded the signal for me to withdraw. I’m not abandoning you.
Heaven forbid! But I realize that you no longer have need of me. [102] And yet
if it is granted to me to live in accordance with nature, I seek no other place than
that in which I am, nor any other company than that of the people with whom
I’m living.’

[103] Both by night and by day, keep these reflections at hand; write them down,
read them, make them the subject of your conversation, whether with yourself,
or with another: ‘Can you come to my aid in this matter?’ And then approach
someone else, and someone else again. [104] Then, if any of those things that are
regarded as undesirable should happen, you’ll gain some immediate relief, to
begin with, from the thought that it wasn’t unexpected. [105] For it is important
to be able to say on every such occasion, ‘I knew that I’d fathered a mortal’;* for
that is what you’ll say, and furthermore, ‘I knew that I was mortal,’ ‘I knew that
I was likely to leave home,’ ‘I knew that I might be exiled,’ ‘I knew that I could
be imprisoned.’ [106] And then, if you reflect within yourself, and examine to
what domain this event belongs, you’ll remember at once that ‘It belongs among
those that lie outside the sphere of choice, that are not my own: so what does it
matter to me?’ [107] Then comes the principal question, ‘Who was it who sent
it?’ Our ruler or our general, the state or the law of the state. ‘Grant that it may
come about, then, because I must obey the law in everything.’ [108] Later on, if
your imagination gnaws at you—for that is something outside your control—
fight against it with your reason, wrestle it down, don’t allow it to gain strength
or pass on to the next stage, of picturing everything that it wants in the very way
that it wants to. [109] If you’re at Gyara, don’t picture how one lives at Rome,
and all the pleasures that you used to enjoy when you were there, and all that
you might enjoy on your return; but since this is where you’ve been stationed,
you should strive to live valiantly in Gyara, as befits someone who is living in
Gyara. And if you’re in Rome, don’t picture the way of life in Athens, but rather
make life in Rome your sole preoccupation.

[110] Then, in place of all other pleasures, introduce that of being conscious that
you’re obeying God, and that you’re accomplishing, not in mere word but in
very deed, the work of a good and virtuous person. [111] For what a fine thing
that is, to be able to say to oneself, ‘What other people talk about in solemn
tones in the schools, things that pass for being paradoxical, I’m now
accomplishing in very fact, while they for their part are sitting there and making
my virtues the subject of their discussions; it’s about me that they’re enquiring,
it’s me whom they’re praising; [112] and Zeus wanted me to provide proof of all
of this in my own person, while he for his part wanted to know whether he has a
soldier in me who is such as he ought to be, a citizen who is such as he ought to
be, and wants to present me to everyone else as one who can provide witness
about those things that lie outside the sphere of choice. ‘See that your fears have
no foundation, he says, and that it is against reason that you desire what you
desire. Don’t seek for what is good for you outside yourselves; seek it within
you, or else you’ll never find it.’ [113] That is why Zeus brings me here at one
time and there at another, and exhibits me to humanity as one who is poor, who
has no position of authority, who is ill, and sends me off to Gyara, and puts me
in prison. It isn’t because he hates me. Perish the thought! Who could hate the
best of his servants? And it isn’t because he neglects me, he who neglects not
even the least of his servants, but rather because he is training me and making
use of me as a witness in front of everyone else. [114] And when he has
appointed me to perform such a service, shall I care any longer where I am, or in
whose company, or what people are saying about me? Shouldn’t I strain all my
attention towards God, and to fulfilling his orders and commands?’

[115] If you keep these thoughts constantly at hand, and reflect on them
constantly within your own mind to make them ready for use, you’ll never have
need of anyone else to encourage you or strengthen your resolve. [116] For
dishonour, in truth, consists not in not having anything to eat, but in not having
reason enough to preserve you from fear and distress. [117] But if, one fine day,
you secure freedom from fear and distress, will any tyrant still exist for you, or
guardsman, or member of Caesar’s household? Or will the award of any high
office still arouse your envy, or those who offer sacrifices on the Capitol* on
entering into office, when you’ve been appointed to such a very important post
by Zeus? [118] Only, don’t make a parade of it, don’t boast about it, but
demonstrate it through your actions; and even if no one notices, be content that
you yourself are of sound mind and are living a happy life.

3.25 To those who fail to achieve what they have proposed for
themselves
[1] Of the things that you initially proposed for yourself, consider which you
have achieved and which you haven’t, and how it gives you joy to recall some of
them and pain to recall others, and, if possible, try to recover even those that
have slipped from your grasp. [2] For those who are engaged in the greatest of
contests shouldn’t flinch, but must be prepared also to take blows. [3] For the
contest that lies in front of us is not in wrestling or the pancration, in which,
whether or not one meets with success, it is possible for one to be of the highest
worth or of little, and by Zeus, to be most happy or most miserable; no, this is a
contest for good fortune and happiness itself. [4] What follows, then? In this
contest, even if we should falter for a while, no one can prevent us from
resuming the fight, nor is it necessary to wait another four years for the next
Olympic Games to come around, but as soon as one has recovered and regained
one’s strength, and can muster the same zeal as before, one can enter the fight;
and if one should fail again, one can enter once again, and if one should carry
off the victory one fine day, it will be as if one had never given in.

[5] Only, don’t begin, through force of habit, to be glad to repeat the process all
over again, so that you end up like a bad athlete, travelling round the athletic
circuit to be beaten again and again, like quails that get into the habit of running
from the ring.* [6] ‘I’m overcome by the impression of a pretty girl. What of
that, wasn’t I overcome just the same the other day?’ ‘The desire comes over me
to disparage somebody. For didn’t I have a go at someone just the other day?’
[7] You’re talking as if you’d come off unscathed. It is just as if someone, when
told by his doctor not to take a bath, were to say in return, ‘But didn’t I take a
bath just the other day?’ To which the doctor would respond, ‘Well then, what
did you feel like after the bath? Didn’t you get a fever? Didn’t you suffer a
headache?’ [8] And when you for your part disparaged someone the other day,
weren’t you acting like an ill-natured person; weren’t you talking nonsense;
didn’t you feed that habit of yours by citing the example of your own previous
actions? [9] Why do you talk, then, about the things that you did the other day?
You ought to have remembered them, I would have thought, in the same way as
slaves remember the blows that they’ve received, to avoid repeating the same
mistakes. [10] But the two cases aren’t the same, because for the slaves it is the
pain that brings back the memory, but in the case of your faults, what pain is
there, what penalty? And when did you ever get into the habit of shunning bad
actions?

3.26 To those who are afraid of want

[1] Aren’t you ashamed to be more cowardly and base than a runaway slave?
How do they manage when they run off and abandon their masters, and on what
lands and servants can they rely? Isn’t it true that after stealing just a little to tide
them over for the first few days, they then make their way around by land and
sea, devising one means after another to sustain themselves? [2] And what
runaway slave ever died of hunger? But for your part, you tremble for fear that
you may run out of the necessities of life, and you lie awake at night. [3] Poor
wretch, are you so blind as not to be able to see where the lack of such
necessities will lead? Where does it lead, then? To just the same place as a fever
or a stone falling down on your head will lead you: to death. Haven’t you
yourself often said the very same thing to your companions; haven’t you read
many things that tend in the same direction, and written many such things? How
often have you boasted that, as regards death at least, you’re quite settled in your
mind?

[4] ‘Yes, but my family too will go hungry.’

What of that? Their hunger won’t take them in any other direction than yours,
will it? Isn’t the journey below the same from everywhere? And the world
below, isn’t it the same? [5] Aren’t you willing to look down below, then, with
courage to confront every lack and want, to that place to which even the
wealthiest, and holders of the highest offices, including kings and tyrants
themselves, must finally descend, even if it could well be that you’ll go down
hungry while they’re torn apart by indigestion and drunkenness? [6] Have you
ever found it easy to catch sight of a beggar who wasn’t old? One who hadn’t
reached an advanced age? But although they freeze by night and day, and make
their bed on the ground, and have no food beyond the bare essentials, they’ve
reached a state in which it is virtually impossible for them to die. [7] And yet
you, who are of sound body, and have hands and feet, are you so very afraid of
hunger? Can’t you fetch water, or work as a scribe, or guide children to school,
or guard somebody’s door?

‘But it’s shameful to be reduced to such straits.’

You should learn first of all what is shameful, then, and only after that come to
us and call yourself a philosopher. At present, though, you shouldn’t even allow
someone else to call you by that name. [8] Can something be shameful for you
which is not of your own doing, for which you aren’t responsible, which has
come to you by accident, like a headache or a fever? If your parents were poor,
or if they were rich and left their property to others, and never helped you out
during their lifetime, is there anything shameful for you in that? [9] Is this what
you’ve learned from the philosophers? Have you never learned that only what is
shameful is blameworthy, and only what is blameworthy deserves blame? Now
can one blame someone for something that is not of his own doing, for what he
himself has not brought about? [10] Well then, was it you yourself who brought
about this state of affairs, who made your father the kind of man he is? Or is it in
your power to reform him? Is that granted to you? What, then, ought you to wish
for what isn’t granted to you, or be ashamed if you don’t attain your wish? [11]
And is this the habit that you’ve acquired from studying philosophy, to look to
other people and hope for nothing from yourself? [12] Well then, groan and
lament as you will, and eat in fear of not having any food tomorrow. And
tremble with regard to your slaves, fearing that they’ll steal from you, that
they’ll run away, that they’ll die. [13] Live in such a way and never cease to do
so; you’ve embarked on philosophy in name alone, you who have discredited its
principles, so far as you are able, by showing them to be useless and unprofitable
for those who adopt them! Never have you desired firmness of mind, serenity,
impassibility; never have you attended any teacher with that purpose in mind,
but many a teacher to learn about syllogisms. Never have you tested out any of
these impressions for yourself, asking yourself, [14] ‘Am I capable of bearing
this or not? What remains for me to do?’, but as if all were safe and sound for
you, you’ve concentrated on the area of study which should come last, that
which is concerned with immutability, so that you may be unchanging—in
what? In your cowardice, your meanness of spirit, your admiration for the rich,
your inability to achieve what you desire, your inability to avoid falling into
what you want to avoid. These are the things that you’ve been so anxious to
secure!

[15] Shouldn’t you have begun by acquiring something from reason, and then
tried to ensure that this was secure? Who did you ever see constructing a cornice
around a building without first having a wall to build it around? And what kind
of doorkeeper can one place on guard when there is no door for him to watch
over? [16] But for your part, you’re practising to acquire the ability to
demonstrate—what? You’re practising to avoid being shaken by sophistic
arguments. Shaken from what? [17] Begin by showing me what you’re
preserving, what you’re measuring, what you’re weighing; and then show me,
accordingly, your scales and your measure. [18] Or how long will you keep
measuring worthless ashes?* Isn’t this what you ought to be measuring: what it
is that makes people happy, what makes their affairs prosper as they would wish,
and what makes it possible for them never to blame anyone, never to find fault
with anyone, and to submit to the governing order of the universe? Show me
that.

[19] ‘Look, I’ll show you,’ he says; ‘I’m going to analyse some syllogisms for
you.’

That’s an instrument that we use to measure things, slave, it isn’t what is

measured. [20] That is why you’re now paying the penalty for what you’ve
neglected; you tremble, you lie awake at night, you consult with everybody, and
if your plans don’t seem likely to please everyone, you think that they’ve been
badly thought out. [21] And then you’re afraid of going hungry, so you suppose.
But no, it’s not hunger that you’re afraid of, but of having no one to cook for
you, and no servant to do the shopping, and no other servant to put your shoes
on, and no other to dress you, and no others to give you a massage, [22] and no
others to follow after you, so that when you’ve undressed at the baths and
stretched yourself out like a man who has been crucified, you may be massaged
on this side and that, and the masseur may then stand over you and say, ‘Shift
along, give me his side, take hold of his head, let me have his shoulder,’ and
after that, when you’ve returned home from your bath, you may cry out, ‘Will no
one bring me something to eat?’, and then, ‘Take the tables out, sponge them
down.’ [23] This is what you fear, that you may not be able to live the life of an
invalid, since to know how healthy people live, you have, in truth, only to look
at how slaves live, how labourers live, how genuine philosophers live, and how
Socrates lived, even when he had a wife and children, and how Diogenes lived,
and Cleanthes, while having to study at the same time and draw water.* [24] If
this is what you want, you’ll have it everywhere, and you’ll live with full
confidence. Confidence in what? In the only thing in which one can properly
have confidence, in that which is reliable, that which is immune to hindrance,
that which can never be taken away, that is to say, your own moral choice. [25]
But why have you rendered yourself so useless and good for nothing in that
respect that no one is willing to welcome you into his house, or bother himself
with you? When an undamaged tool that is still usable has been thrown out,
anyone who finds it will carry it off and count it a gain, but no one will think that
of you, but everyone will count you a loss. [26] And so you’re unable to render
the service even of a dog or a cock. Why do you want to keep on living, then,
being such a man as you are?

[27] Does any good man fear that he may run out of food? The blind don’t run
out of food, nor do the crippled; so will a good man run out of it? A good soldier
doesn’t fail to find someone to employ him and pay him his wages, nor does a
good workman or a good cobbler; so will a good man fail to find anyone? [28]
Does God so neglect his own creatures, his servants, his witnesses, the only
people he can make use of as an example to the uneducated, to prove that he
both exists and governs the universe wisely, and doesn’t neglect human affairs,
and that nothing bad ever happens to a good person, either during his lifetime or
after his death?

[29] ‘Yes, but what if he should fail to provide me with food?’

What else could that mean, then, except that, like a good general, he has given
the signal to withdraw. I obey, I follow, speaking well of my commander, and
singing hymns in praise of his works. [30] For I came into this world when it
pleased him that I should do so, and I am now taking my leave in accordance
with his wish; and while I lived, it was my part to sing hymns of praise to God,
to myself, or to someone else, or in larger company. [31] It is not much that he
has given me, and nothing in abundance; he doesn’t wish me to live in luxury,
for he didn’t grant that to Heracles either, though he was his own son, but
another reigned over Argos and Mycenae, while Heracles did as he was ordered,
and toiled away and accomplished his labours. [32] As for Eurystheus, who bore
the name of king, he didn’t rule over Argos or Mycenae, since he didn’t even
rule over himself, while Heracles was ruler and governor of the entire earth and
sea, he who purged the world of wickedness and iniquity, and introduced justice
and reverence, accomplishing that task unarmed and alone.* [33] And again,
when Odysseus was shipwrecked and cast ashore, did he allow himself to be
humiliated by his destitution; did he lose heart? No, for how was it that he
approached the young girls, to ask them for the necessities of life, something that
is thought to be most shameful for one person to ask from another? ‘Like a
mountain-bred lion.’*

[34] What did he place his trust in? Not in reputation, or riches, or office, but in
his own strength, that is to say, in his judgements about what is in our power and
what isn’t. [35] For it is those judgements alone that make us free, that render us
immune to hindrance, that raise up the head of those who have been subjected to
ignominy, and allow us to look into the faces of the rich with unaverted gaze,
and likewise into the faces of despots. [36] Such was the gift that philosophy
could bestow, and yet instead of taking your leave with courage in your heart,
you’ll go out trembling for your clothes and silverware? Wretched man, is that
how you’ve wasted your time up until now?

[37] ‘But what if I should fall ill?’ You’ll face illness as you ought. ‘Who’ll take
care of me?’ God and your friends. ‘I’ll have a hard bed to lie on.’ But lie on it
like a man. ‘But I won’t have a suitable house.’ Then you’ll fall ill in an
unsuitable place. ‘Who’ll prepare my food?’ Those who prepare it for the others
also, you’ll be ill like Manes.* ‘And what will be the outcome of my illness?’
What else but death? [38] Why don’t you reflect, then, that for man the source of
all evils, and of his meanness of spirit and cowardice, is not death itself, but
rather the fear of death? It is to confront this that you must train yourself, [39]
and it is towards that end that all your reasonings, all your studies, and all your
readings should be directed, and then you’ll recognize that it is in this way alone
that human beings can attain freedom.
 BOOK 4

4.1 On freedom

[1] That person is free who lives as he wishes, who can neither be constrained,
nor hindered, nor compelled, whose motives are unimpeded, and who achieves
his desires and doesn’t fall into what he wants to avoid. Who wishes, then, to
live in error?

‘No one does.’

[2] Who wishes to live as one who is subject to deception, and is impetuous,
unjust, dissolute, petulant, and base?

‘No one.’

[3] No one who is of bad character lives as he wants, and accordingly, he isn’t
free either. [4] And who wants to live in sorrow and fear, and feel envy and pity,
desiring things without being able to attain them, and wanting to avoid things
and yet falling into them?

‘No one at all.’

[5] Do we find anyone who is of bad character, then, to be free from grief and
fear, and secure from falling into what he wants to avoid, and from failing in his
desires?

‘Not a single one.’

So neither do we find any such person to be free. [6] If a man who has been
twice consul should hear this, he’d forgive you provided that you added, ‘But
you for your part are a wise man, none of this applies to you.’ But if you tell him
the truth, namely, [7] ‘You differ not a whit with regard to your being a slave
from those who’ve been sold three times over,’ what else are you to expect than
a beating? [8] ‘For how on earth can I be a slave?’ he says. ‘My father was free,
my mother was free, and no one has a deed of sale for me; and besides, I’m a
senator, and a friend of Caesar, and I’ve been a consul, and I own many slaves.’
[9] In the first place, O most excellent senator, it could well be that your father
was a slave in the same way as you are, and your mother too, and your
grandfather, and all your ancestors in turn. [10] But even if they were wholly
free, how does that affect you? Why, what if they were noble-minded and you’re
mean-spirited? If they were courageous and you’re a coward? If they had self-
control and you’re licentious?

[11] ‘And what’, someone asks, ‘does that have to do with being a slave?’

Does it seem to you that acting against one’s will and under constraint, groaning
all the while, has nothing to do with being a slave?

[12] ‘Granted,’ he replied, ‘but who can compel me apart from Caesar, who is
master of us all?’

[13] By your own admission, then, you have at least one master. And the fact
that he is, as you say, the common master of us all should be no source of
consolation for you, but you should recognize that you’re merely a slave in a
great household. [14] It is thus also that the people of Nicopolis are in the habit
of exclaiming, ‘Yes, by the fortune of Caesar, we’re free men!’ [15] All the
same, let’s put Caesar aside for the moment, if you please, and answer me this,
have you never conceived a passion for anyone, girl or boy, slave or free?

[16] ‘Why, what does that have to do with being a slave or free?’

[17] Were you never ordered by your beloved to do something that you didn’t
want to do? Have you never flattered your little slave? Have you never kissed
his feet? And yet, if you were compelled to kiss Caesar’s feet, you’d regard that
as an outrage and the height of tyranny. Is slavery anything other than that, then?
[18] Have you never gone out at night to somewhere where you didn’t want to
go? Or incurred expenses greater than you wished? Or given voice to groans and
lamentations, and put up with being abused and having the door shut in your
face? [19] If you’re ashamed to confess to your own follies, see what
Thrasonides says and does, he who had served on so many campaigns, perhaps
even more than you have. First of all, he went out at night, at an hour when even
Geta* didn’t dare to venture abroad; now, if he’d been compelled to do so by his
master, he would have gone out with many a cry, lamenting his bitter servitude,
[20] but what does he in fact say? ‘A little wench’, he says,

has enslaved me, a cheap one too,

Me whom no enemy has ever enslaved.*

[21] Poor wretch, to be the slave of a young girl, and a cheap one at that!
Why do you still call yourself a free man, then? And why do you boast of your
campaigns? [22] Then he asks for a sword and gets angry with the man who, out
of the goodness of his heart, refuses to hand it over to him, and he sends presents
to the girl who despises him, and begs and weeps, and again, when he meets
with some slight success, is over the moon. [23] And yet even then, as one who
hadn’t yet learned to escape from desire and fear, how could he be a free man?

[24] Consider now, with regard to animals, how we apply the concept of
freedom to them. [25] People rear tame lions in cages, and feed them, and some
even take them around with them; and yet who would say that such a lion is
free? Isn’t it true that the softer the life that it leads, the more it is a slave? And
what lion, if it acquired sense and reason, would want to be one of those lions?
[26] Come, look at those birds over there, when they’re caught and brought up in
cages, what won’t they suffer in their efforts to escape? Some would even prefer
to starve to death rather than endure such an existence, [27] and those that
survive do so barely and with difficulty, and pine away; and if they can ever find
an opening, they’ll make their escape. Such is the desire that they feel for their
natural freedom, and for an independent and untrammelled life. [28] And what
harm do you suffer from being shut in a cage? ‘What a thing to ask! I was born
to fly wherever I please, to live in the open air, to sing when I wish. You deprive
me of all of that and then ask me, “What harm do you suffer?”’

[29] That is why we call free only those animals that won’t put up with captivity,
but escape through death as soon as they’re captured. [30] Diogenes remarks
accordingly somewhere that the only sure means to secure one’s freedom is to be
happy to die, and he writes to the king of the Persians, ‘You cannot enslave the
Athenian state,’ so he says, ‘any more than you can enslave the fishes.’ [31]
—‘How so? Can’t I capture them?’—‘If you do,’ he replies, ‘they’ll
immediately leave you and be gone like fish. For as soon as you catch one of
those, it dies; and if the Athenians come to die when they’re caught, what good
will you gain from your armed force?’* [32] This is the language of a free man
who has examined the question in all seriousness and, as might be expected, has
found the right answer. But if you look elsewhere than where it is to be found,
why be surprised that you never find it?

[33] It is the slave’s prayer that he may be set free without delay. Why so? Do
you suppose that it is because he wants to hand over his money to the men who
collect the five per cent tax?* No, it is because he imagines that up until now, as
a result of not having obtained his freedom, he has lived a restricted and
unhappy life. [34] ‘If I’m set free,’ he says, ‘it will at once be happiness all the
way; I’ll no longer have to defer to anyone, I’ll no longer have to submit to
anyone, and I’ll talk to one and all as their like and equal; I’ll travel where I
choose; I’ll come from where I please and go to where I please.’ [35] The day
then comes when he is set free, and all at once, having nowhere to eat, he looks
around for someone to flatter, for someone to have a meal with. And then he
either works through the sweat of his body, undergoing the most dreadful things,
and if he does acquire a manger to feed at, has fallen into much harder slavery
than that which he formerly had to endure; [36] or even if he makes his fortune,
being a rough sort of fellow with poor taste, he falls in love with some worthless
girl, and then grows miserable, sheds tears of regret, and yearns to be a slave
again. [37] ‘For what harm did it bring me? Someone else clothed me, and fed
me, and shod me, and took care of me when I was ill, while I did little enough in
his service. But these days, poor wretch that I am, what things I have to suffer,
having to slave for several masters instead of just one. [38] Yet all the same,’ he
adds, ‘if I get those rings,* then I’ll live more prosperously and be as happy as
can be.’ First, in order to acquire them, he suffers what he deserves, and then,
when he has got them, the story starts all over again. [39] He then says, ‘If I go
out on campaign, I’ll be delivered from all my troubles.’ So he goes on
campaign, suffers all the hardships that a worthless slave has to suffer, but asks
nonetheless to go out on a second campaign, and then a third.* [40] After that,
when he adds the finishing touch and becomes a senator, he then becomes a
slave indeed as he enters the Senate, to submit to the most splendid and
luxurious slavery of all.

[41] Let him put aside his foolishness, then, and learn, as Socrates used to say,
‘what each real entity* is’, and not apply his preconceptions to particular cases
merely at random. [42] For that is the cause of all human ills, that people aren’t
able to apply their general preconceptions* to the particular cases. [43] No, but
one person thinks in one way, and another person in another. This person
imagines that he is ill. Not at all, it is merely that he is applying his
preconceptions wrongly. Another imagines that he is poor, another that he has a
harsh father or mother, another that Caesar is ill-disposed towards him. But all of
this means one thing and one alone, that people don’t know how to apply their
preconceptions. [44] Now, who doesn’t have a preconception of what is bad, that
it is harmful, that it should be avoided, that one should get rid of it by every
possible means? One preconception doesn’t conflict with another, [45] but
conflict can arise when one comes to apply it. What is this evil then, that is
harmful and ought to be avoided? One person says that it is not to be Caesar’s
friend;* he has gone astray, he has failed to make a proper application, he is in
distress, he is going in search of something that isn’t relevant to the case in hand;
because when he has actually become Caesar’s friend, he has failed all the same
to attain what he was seeking. [46] For what is it that every one of us is seeking?
To live in peace, to be happy, to do all that one wants without being subject to
hindrance or constraint. Now when he has become Caesar’s friend, has he ceased
to be subject to hindrance and constraint, and does he live in peace and
happiness? Who shall we ask? Is there anyone who could be more worthy of our
trust than this very man who has become Caesar’s friend? [47] Come forward
and tell us when you slept more peacefully, at the present time or before you
became Caesar’s friend? At once you’ll hear the reply, ‘Leave off, for heaven’s
sake, stop making fun of my predicament—you have no idea what miseries I
have to suffer, poor wretch that I am. I’m unable to get any sleep, but first one
person comes in and then another, saying that Caesar is already awake, that he is
already coming out; and then come the troubles, then come the anxieties.’ [48]
Come, when did you dine with greater pleasure, now or before? Listen to what
he has to say about this matter too. He says that if he isn’t invited, he gets upset,
but if he is, he dines like a slave in the presence of his master, being anxious all
the while not to do or say anything stupid. And what do you suppose he is afraid
of? Of being whipped like a slave? And how could he hope to escape as lightly
as that? No, but as befits so great a man, a friend of Caesar, he is frightened that
he may lose his head.

[49] And when did you bathe in greater tranquillity? When did you take your
exercise at greater leisure? In short, which life would you prefer to lead, that of
today or that of former days? [50] I could swear that no man is so stupid or so
incurable as not to lament his misfortunes the more greatly the more he becomes
Caesar’s friend.

[51] So if neither those who are called kings, nor the friends of those kings, live
as they wish, what free man can there still be?

Seek and you’ll find; for nature has provided you with resources to enable you to
discover the truth. But if you yourself are unable, through use of those resources
alone, to go on to discover what follows, [52] listen to those who have made the
enquiry. Does freedom seem to you to be something good?—‘Yes, the greatest
good.’—Is it possible, then, that one who obtains this greatest of goods should
be unhappy or fare badly?—‘No it isn’t.’—So whenever you see people to be
unhappy, miserable, and subject to grief, you should confidently declare them
not to be free.—‘I so declare.’ [53] —Well then, we have now got away from
buying and selling,* and such arrangements with regard to property; but if
you’re right in agreeing to the points that you have, whether it be the Great
King* who is unhappy, or a little king, or a man of consular rank, or one what
has been twice consul, he couldn’t be free.—‘Agreed.’

[54] Answer me, then, on this further point: do you regard freedom as being
something great and noble, something of high value?—‘How could it not be?’—
Is it possible, then, that someone who is in possession of something so great, so
valuable, so noble, could be base-minded?—‘Impossible.’ [55] —So whenever
you see someone grovelling in front of somebody else, or flattering him contrary
to his real opinion, you may confidently declare that he isn’t free, and not only if
he is acting in this way for the sake of a wretched little meal, but even if it is for
the sake of a governor’s post or a consulship. No, but when people do this for the
sake of trifles, you should call them petty slaves, and call the latter by the name
that they deserve, slaves on a grand scale. [56] —‘That too I concede.’

Does freedom seem to you to entail independence and self-determination?

—‘How could it be otherwise?’—So whenever anyone is subject to hindrance or
compulsion from another, confidently declare that he isn’t free. [57] And don’t
look, I ask you, to his grandfathers and great-grandfathers, or enquire about
deeds of sale or purchase, but if you hear him say ‘master’ from his heart and
with true feeling, even if the twelve fasces are being carried in front of him, then
call him a slave; and if you hear him exclaiming, ‘Wretch that I am, what things
I have to suffer!’, call him a slave too. In a word, if you see him wailing,
complaining, and living unhappily, call him a slave in a purple-bordered robe.*
[58] If he does nothing of that kind, however, don’t yet declare that he is free,
but get acquainted with his judgements, and see whether they’re in any way
subject to constraint, or hindrance, or unhappiness; and if you find that to be the
case, call him a slave on holiday at the Saturnalia.* Say that his master is away
from home; but he’ll be back soon, and then you’ll see what this man suffers!
[59] —‘Who’ll be back?’—Whoever holds control over anything that the man
desires, and can procure it or take it away.—‘Do we have so many masters,
then?’—Yes, so many. For even before these human masters, we have
circumstances as our masters, and there are any number of those. [60] Because
in truth, it is not Caesar himself whom people stand in fear of, but death,
banishment, confiscation of their property, imprisonment, loss of civil rights.
Nor does anyone love Caesar himself, unless Caesar happens to be a man of
great worth, but it is riches that we love, or a post as tribune, praetor, or consul.
As long as we love, hate, or fear these things, it necessarily follows that those
who have power over them will be our masters. For that reason, we even
worship such people as though they were gods, [61] because we suppose that
anyone who has the power to confer the greatest advantages on us is divine. And
then we wrongly lay down this minor premiss, ‘This man has the power to
confer the greatest advantages.’ It is bound to follow that the conclusion drawn
from these premisses must be false too.

[62] What is it, then, that sets a person free from hindrance and makes him his
own master? For neither wealth, nor a consul’s post, nor a governor’s post, nor a
kingdom make him so, [63] but something else needs to be found. Now what is
it that ensures, when someone is writing, that he won’t be subject to hindrance or
obstruction?—‘Knowledge of how to write.’—And when one is playing the
lyre?—‘Knowledge of how to play the lyre.’—It thus follows that in life, too, it
must be knowledge of the art of living. [64] Now you’ve already learned this as
a general principle, but consider it too in its specific applications. If someone
desires any of the things that lie within the power of others, is it possible that
he’ll be free from hindrance?—‘No.’—Is it possible that he’ll be free from
obstruction?—‘No.’ [65] —Then he can’t be free either. Now consider this
point: do we have nothing that is exclusively within our own power, or is that the
case with everything, or are there some things that are within our own power
while others are within the power of other people? [66] —‘How do you
mean?’—When you want your body to remain sound and whole, is that within
your power or isn’t it?—‘No, that isn’t within my power.’—And when you want
it to be healthy?—‘No, that isn’t either.’—Or that it should be beautiful?—‘That
isn’t either.’—And to live or die?—‘No again.’—It thus follows that your body
is not your own, but is subject to whatever is stronger than itself.—‘Indeed.’ [67]
—And when it comes to your land, is it within your power to own what you
want, and for as long as you want, and just as you want?—‘No.’—And your
slaves?—‘No.’—And your little house?—‘No.’—And your horses?—‘None of
that.’—And if you should wish at all cost that your children should remain alive,
or that your wife should, or your brother, or your friends, is that within your
power?—‘No, that isn’t either.’ [68] —Have you nothing at all, then, that is
subject to your own authority, or exclusively within your power, or do you have
something of that kind?—‘I don’t know.’

[69] Well, look at the question in this way, and think it over. Can anyone make
you give your assent to what is false?—‘No one can.’—In the matter of assent,
then, you’re free from hindrance and restraint.—‘Agreed.’ [70] —Come now,
can anyone force you to direct your impulses towards anything that you don’t
want?—‘Indeed he can. For when he threatens me with death or imprisonment,
he can force me to it.’ [71] —If you were to despise death, however, or chains,
would you still pay any heed to him?—‘No.’—Now, to despise death, is that
your own act, or isn’t it?—‘It’s my own act.’—And to exercise your impulses, is
that your own act, or isn’t it?—‘Agreed, it’s my own act.’—And to exercise your
impulses not to act? That too is your own act. [72] —‘Yes, but what if I have an
impulse to go for a walk, and someone else prevents me?’—What can he prevent
in you? Surely not your assent?—‘No, but rather my poor body.’—Yes, as he
could a stone.—‘Granted, but I can no longer go for my walk.’ [73] —And who
told you that taking a walk is an act of your own that isn’t open to hindrance?
For my part, I said only that your impulse to do so isn’t subject to hindrance. But
when it comes to the use of our body, and its cooperation, you’ve learned long
since that none of that is your own.—‘I’ll concede that too.’ [74] —And can
anyone force you to desire what you don’t want?—‘No one can.’—And to set an
aim for yourself, or make a plan, or in general, to deal with the impressions that
come to you?—‘Not that either; [75] but when I form a desire, someone can
hinder me from achieving that desire.’—If that desire is directed towards
something that is your own, and isn’t subject to hindrance, how can he hinder
you?—‘There is no way in which he can.’—Who is telling you, then, that
someone whose desires are directed towards things that aren’t his own isn’t
subject to hindrance? [76] —‘But health, can’t I desire that?’—In no way, nor
anything else that isn’t your own. [77] For that which is not in your power to
procure or keep as you wish is not your own. Keep not only your hands well
away from it, but first and foremost your desire; otherwise you’ve delivered
yourself into slavery, you’ve put your head under the yoke, if you attach value to
anything that isn’t your own, if you conceive a desire for anything that is subject
to anyone else and is perishable.

[78] ‘But isn’t my hand my own?’—It is a part of you, but by nature it is nothing
but clay; it is subject to hindrance and compulsion; it is a slave to everything that
is stronger than itself. [79] And why just speak of your hand? It is your entire
body that you ought to treat as a poor overburdened donkey, as long as it is
possible, as long as it is permitted to you; and if it should be requisitioned, and a
soldier seizes it, let it go; don’t resist or grumble. Otherwise you’ll get a beating,
and you’ll lose your poor donkey all the same. [80] But if that is the way that
you should act with regard to your body, consider what is left for you to do with
regard to everything else that is procured for the sake of the body. If your body
is a little donkey, all those other things become bridles for the donkey, pack-
saddles, shoes, barley, fodder. Let all of that go too; get rid of it more quickly
and cheerfully than of the little donkey itself.

[81] And when you have undertaken this preparation, and have trained yourself
in this way, to distinguish those things that are not your own from those that are,
and those that are subject to hindrance from those that are not, and to regard the
latter as being your concern, while the former are not, to keep your desire fixed
on the latter and your aversion directed towards the former, will there then be
anyone left whom you need fear?—‘No one.’

[82] For what is there for you to be afraid about? About those things that are
your own, in which your true good and evil lie? And who has any power over
those? Who can take them away; who can impede them? No one, any more than
he could impede God. [83] Or is it your body and your possessions that you fear
for? For things that are not your own, for things that are nothing to you? And
what else have you been studying for all this while, if not to distinguish what is
your own from what isn’t your own, and what is in your power from what isn’t
in your power, and what is subject to hindrance from what is immune to it? And
for what purpose have you visited the philosophers? To be no less miserable and
unfortunate than you were before? [84] You won’t be free in that case from fear
and agitation. And what does distress have to do with you? For it is expectation
that gives rise to fear, while distress arises from that which is present. And what
will you still have any desire for? For things that lie within the sphere of choice,
as being both your own and present, you have a measured and well-controlled
desire; while for things that lie outside the sphere of choice, you have no desire,
so as to allow no place to that irrational element which is violent and impetuous
beyond measure.

[85] When this is the attitude that you hold towards things, what man could still
be capable of inspiring you with fear? For what does one human being have in
him that is of such a nature as to inspire fear in another human being, either in
his appearance, his manner of talk, or his company in general, any more than a
horse awakens fear in another horse, or a dog in a dog, or a bee in a bee?
[86] How is a citadel* destroyed, then? Neither by iron, nor by fire, but by
judgements. For if we pull down the citadel in the city, have we also pulled
down the citadel of fever, the citadel of pretty girls, or, in a word, the citadel
within us, and shall we have driven out the tyrants whom we have inside us,
whom we have exercising their sway over us day after day, sometimes the same
ones, sometimes different? [87] But this is where we must begin; this is where
we must set out from to destroy the citadel and drive out the tyrants: we must
give up our poor body, and its various parts and faculties, and our property,
reputation, public posts, honours, children, brothers, and friends, and regard all
of that as being not our own. [88] And if the tyrants are driven out from there,
what need do I have to raze the citadel, at least as far as I am concerned? For
what harm does it do me if it is left standing? Why should I go on to expel the
guards? For where am I conscious of them? It is against others that they direct
their sticks, their spears, and their swords. [89] But for my part, I’ve never been
hindered in the exercise of my will, or constrained to do anything against my
will. And how could that be possible? I have submitted my impulses to God. It is
his will that I should have a fever? That is my will too. It is his will that I should
direct my impulses towards a certain thing? That is my will too. It is his will that
I should desire something? That is what I want too. It is his will that I should get
something? That is what I want too. He doesn’t want that? Nor do I. [90] And so
it is my will that I should die, my will that I should be tortured. Who can still
hinder me, then, contrary to my own judgements; who can constrain me? No
more than that would be possible with Zeus.

[91] This is also the way in which the more cautious travellers proceed.
Someone has heard that the road is infested with robbers; he doesn’t dare to set
out alone, but waits to travel in the company of an ambassador, or quaestor,* or
proconsul, and when he has attached himself to them, he can make the journey in
safety. [92] Such is the way in which a prudent person acts in this world. ‘There
are many gangs of robbers, and there are tyrants, storms, difficulties, and losses
of what we hold most dear. [93] Where can one find refuge? How can one pass
on one’s way without getting robbed? And what company should one wait for to
make one’s journey in safety? To whom should one attach oneself? [94] To that
man, to this rich man, to that proconsul? And what good will it do me? The man
himself is stripped bare, and groans and laments. And what if my fellow traveller
himself should turn against me and become my robber? What am I to do? [95]
I’ll become a friend of Caesar; if I’m a companion of his, no one will do me any
wrong. But first of all, to become his friend, what things I’ll have to endure and
suffer! How many times and by how many people am I bound to be robbed! [96]
And then, even if I achieve my aim, Caesar too is mortal. And what if, for some
reason or other, he should become my enemy? Would it be better for me to
withdraw once and for all to a desert? Come, does no fever make its way there?
[97] So what is to become of me? Is there no way of finding a fellow traveller
who is reliable, trustworthy, strong, and incapable of treachery? [98] A prudent
person thinks things over in this way, and comes to understand that if he attaches
himself to God, he’ll complete his journey in safety.

[99] ‘What do you mean by “attaching himself to God?”’

This: that whatever God wants, this man wants too; and whatever God doesn’t
want, he doesn’t want either.

[100] ‘How can that be achieved, then?’

Why, how otherwise than by observing the wishes of God and his governing
order? What has he given to me to be my own, and subject to my own authority,
and what has he reserved for himself? He has given me whatever lies within the
sphere of choice; he has made it to be subject to my control, and immune to
hindrance and obstruction. This body formed from clay; how could he make that
immune from hindrance? And so he has made it subject to the revolution of the
universe, and likewise my property, my furniture, my house, my children, my
wife. [101] Why shall I fight against God, then? Why should I want what I
oughtn’t to want, to keep at all cost what hasn’t been given to me? So how am I
to possess these things? On the terms on which they have been granted to me,
and for as long as it remains possible. But he who has given them to me takes
them away again. Why, then, shall I resist? Not to mention that I’d be a fool to
try to force my way against one who is stronger than me; it would above all be
wrong for me to do so. [102] For where did I get these things from when I
entered the world? My father gave them to me. And who gave them to him?
Who made the sun, the fruits of the earth, the seasons, and the society of human
beings and the fellowship that binds them together?

[103] And then, when you’ve received everything from another, even your very
self, will you complain and cast reproaches on the giver if he takes something
away from you? [104] Who are you, and for what purpose have you come here?
Wasn’t it he who brought you here? Wasn’t it he who showed you the light?
Wasn’t it he who gave you companions to work together with you? And senses
too? And reason? And as what kind of being did he bring you here? Wasn’t it as
one who is mortal? Wasn’t it as one who would live on the earth with a small
portion of flesh, and would observe his governing order, and would accompany
him in his procession and take part in his festival for a short period of time?
[105] Aren’t you willing, then, after having beheld his pageant and festival* for
the time that is granted to you, to take your leave when he conducts you away,
after having first paid obeisance to him and having thanked him for all that
you’ve heard and seen? ‘No, but I wanted to continue to take part in the festival.’
[106] Yes, and the initiates at the Mysteries would like to continue the
initiations, and the spectators at Olympia would doubtless like to watch more
athletes; but the festival must have its end. Depart, then, as one who is grateful
and reverent; make room for others; it is necessary that others, too, should come
into the world as you yourself have come, and that once they’ve arrived, they
should have room, and somewhere to live, and the necessities of life. But if those
who came first don’t make way, what will be left for them? Why are you so
insatiable? Why are you never satisfied?

[107] ‘Yes, but I want my young children and my wife to be with me.’

Why, are they yours? Don’t they really belong to the one who gave them? To the
one who also created you? So won’t you give up what is not your own? Won’t
you surrender it to your superior?

[108] ‘Why has he brought me here under these conditions?’

If they don’t suit you, go away. He has no need of a spectator who is always
complaining about his lot. He needs people to join in his festival and dances, so
that they may, on the contrary, greet them with applause, and view them with
reverence, and sing hymns in praise of the assembly. [109] As for grumblers and
cowards, he won’t be sorry to see them gone from the assembly; for even while
they were present, they didn’t behave as though they were at a festival, and
didn’t fill their proper place, but lamented instead and found fault with the deity,
their lot, and their companions, unconscious of what had been granted to them,
and the powers that they had received for the opposite use—greatness of soul,
nobility of mind, courage, and the very freedom that we are now investigating.

[110] ‘For what purpose have I received these gifts?’—To make use of them.
—‘For how long?’—For as long as the one who has lent them to you may
please.—‘But what if they’re essential to me?’—Don’t get attached to them, and
they won’t be; don’t tell yourself that they’re essential, and then they’re not.
[111] This is what you should practise from morning to evening. Begin with the
smallest and most fragile things, a pot, or a cup, and then pass on to a tunic, a
dog, a horse, a scrap of land; and from there, pass on to yourself, to your body,
and the parts of your body, and to your children, your wife, your brothers.* [112]
Look around you in every direction, and cast these things far away from you.
Purify your judgements so that nothing that is not your own may remain attached
to you, or become part of yourself, or give you pain when it comes to be torn
away from you. [113] And say while you’re training yourself day after day, as
you are here, not that you’re acting as a philosopher (for you must concede that
it would be pretentious to lay claim to that title), but that you’re a slave on the
way to emancipation. For that is true freedom.

[114] It was in this way that Diogenes was set free by Antisthenes, such that he
said thereafter that he could never be enslaved by anyone. [115] So how did he
react when he was captured; how did he behave towards the pirates?* He didn’t
call any of them master, did he? And here I’m not speaking of the name, because
it isn’t the word that I fear, but the state of mind expressed in the use of the
name. [116] How he rebuked them for not giving enough food to their captives!
And think how he conducted himself when he was offered up for sale! Did he
look for a master? No, but for a slave. And once he had been sold, how he
behaved towards his master! He immediately began to argue with him, saying
that he oughtn’t to dress as he did, or have his hair cut in the way that it was, and
he talked to him about his sons, telling him how they ought to live their lives.
[117] And is there anything surprising in that? After all, if he had bought a
trainer, would he have treated him as a servant or master when it came to
gymnastic exercises? And likewise if he had bought a doctor, or an architect?
Correspondingly, in whatever field, someone who possesses the relevant skill
must necessarily exercise authority over one who lacks it. [118] So if someone
possesses the knowledge of how we should live our lives in general, what else
can follow than that he must be the master? For who is master of a ship?

‘The helmsman.’

Why? Because anyone who disobeys him will be punished.

[119] ‘But my master can flog me.’

But he can’t do so with impunity, can he?

‘No, that’s what I thought too.’

‘No, that’s what I thought too.’

But because he can’t do so with impunity, it follows that he hasn’t the power to
do so; for no one can do wrong with impunity.

[120] ‘And what punishment, in your view, does a man suffer if he throws his
own slave into chains?’

The very fact of having thrown him into chains; for you yourself must concede
that point if you want to preserve the principle that man is not a wild beast, but a
civilized animal. [121] Consider now, when is a vine in a bad way? When it is
acting contrary to its own nature. And a cock? Likewise. [122] And so too with a
human being. Now, what is his nature? Is it to bite, to kick, to throw people into
prison and cut their heads off? No, but to do good, to be helpful to others, to pray
for them. So this master is in a bad way, whether you want to admit it or not,
when he acts with brutality.

[123] ‘You mean that Socrates didn’t fare badly?’

No, but rather his judges and accusers.

‘Nor Helvidius* at Rome?’

No, but the man who had him put to death.

[124] ‘How do you mean?’

Just as you too wouldn’t say that the winning cock, even if badly wounded, has
fared badly, but rather the one that is defeated without suffering a scratch. Nor
do you call a dog happy when it is neither on the hunt nor hard at work, but
when you see it sweating, suffering, and broken by the chase. [125] What is
paradoxical in asserting, then, that for every being, what is bad for it is that
which is contrary to its nature? Is there any paradox in that? Didn’t you say it
yourself with regard to every other being? Why is it that you think otherwise in
the case of man alone? [126] Why, when we say that man is by nature sociable,
affectionate, and trustworthy, there surely isn’t anything paradoxical in that?
—‘No, that isn’t paradoxical either.’ [127] —How is it, then, that he still suffers
no harm when he is flogged, or thrown into prison, or decapitated? Isn’t it that if
he bears that in a noble spirit, he comes off with added profit and advantage,
while the person who is truly harmed, and suffers the most pitiful and shameful
fate, is the one who, instead of being human, turns into a wolf, a viper, or a
wasp?

[128] Come, let us recapitulate the points that we’ve agreed. The person who
isn’t subject to hindrance is free, he who has everything at hand as he wants it;
but one who is subject to hindrance, or constraint, or obstruction, or can be
thrown into any difficulty against his will, is a slave. [129] And who is the
person who is free from all hindrance? He who desires nothing that is not his
own. And what are the things that are not our own? Those that are not within our
power, either to have or not to have, or to have with certain qualities, or under
certain conditions. [130] Our body is thus not our own, every part of it is not our
own, and our property is not our own. So if you become attached to any of these
as though it were your own, you’ll suffer the punishment that a person deserves
if he sets his aim on what is not his own. [131] This is the road that leads to
freedom, this is the only deliverance from slavery, to be able to say one day with
your whole heart,

Guide me, Zeus, and thou, O Destiny,

To wheresoever you have assigned me.*

[132] But what do you say, philosopher? A tyrant calls upon you to say
something that isn’t worthy of you. Do you say it, or don’t you? Tell me.—‘Let
me think about the matter.’—Think about it at this moment? What did you
spend your time thinking about while you were at the school? Didn’t you
consider what things are good, and what are bad, and what are indifferent?
—‘Indeed I did.’ [133] —And what conclusions did you arrive at?—‘That what
is just and honourable is good, and what is unjust and shameful is bad.’—Living
isn’t a good, is it?—‘No.’—And dying isn’t an evil?—‘No.’—And
imprisonment isn’t?—‘No.’—But saying something that is ignoble and disloyal,
and betraying a friend, and flattering a tyrant, what do you think of all of that?
—‘Those are bad things.’ [134] —What then? No, you’re not thinking about the
matter, nor have you ever thought about it and come to a decision. For what sort
of an enquiry is this, to ask whether it is fitting, when it is in my power, to
secure the greatest goods for myself and avoid the greatest evils? A fine and
necessary enquiry that is, one requiring long deliberation! Why are you making
fun of us, man? One never makes an enquiry such as that. [135] No, if you truly
imagined that shameful things were bad, and everything else indifferent, you
would surely never have come to hesitate in this way, or anything like it, but
would have been able to settle the question at once, as though by direct view in
your mind’s eye. [136] For when do you stop to consider whether black is white,
or light is heavy? Don’t you rely on the clear evidence of your senses? How is it,
then, that you’re now talking of examining whether one should avoid things that
are indifferent more than those that are bad? [137] Actually this doesn’t accord
with the judgements that you hold; these things don’t strike you as indifferent,
but as the greatest of evils, and those other things don’t seem bad to you, but
rather things of no matter.

[138] For this is the habit that you have got into from the beginning. ‘Where am
I? In the school. And who are these people who are listening to me? I’m talking
among philosophers. But now that I’ve left the schoolroom, away with all that
talk which is fit only for pedants and fools!’ That is how a philosopher comes to
bear witness against a friend; that is how a philosopher turns parasite; [139] that
is how he sells himself for money; that is how in the Senate a man doesn’t say
what he thinks, even though his judgement is crying aloud within him, [140] and
not some wretched half-hearted judgement hanging on idle reasonings as though
by a hair, but a robust and serviceable judgement that received its initiation by
being tested in action. [141] Watch yourself to see how you react to the news—I
won’t say, that your child is dead, for how could you stand up to that?—but that
your oil has been spilled, or all your wine has been drunk? You’d react in such a
way [142] that a bystander, seeing you fall into such a passion, would simply
exclaim, ‘Philosopher, you talk quite differently in the schoolroom. Why are you
trying to deceive us? Why, when you’re nothing but a worm, do you claim to be
a man? [143] I’d like to stand over one of these philosophers when he is engaged
in the act of love, to see how he deploys his efforts, and what words he utters,
and whether he remembers his title and the arguments that he hears or recites or
reads!’

[144] ‘And what does all of this have to do with freedom?’

Nothing apart from this has anything to do with freedom, whether you rich folk
wish it or not.

[145] ‘And what proof can you bring of this?’

Why, what other than yourselves, who have this powerful master and live at his
beck and call, you who faint if he merely looks at one of you with knotted
brows, and pay court to old men and women, saying, ‘I can’t do that, I’m not
allowed to.’ [146] Why aren’t you allowed to? And weren’t you arguing with me
just now and claiming that you’re free? ‘But Aprulla* has stopped me from
doing it.’ Tell the truth, slave, and don’t run away from your masters, or try to
disown them, and have the nerve to bring forward someone to attest that you’re
free when there are so many proofs to show that you’re a slave. [147] In truth,
when someone is compelled by the power of love to do something that is
contrary to his opinion, even though he can see at the same time what is better,
but can’t summon up the resolve to follow it through, one might feel the more
inclined to think him worthy of pardon because he has been seized by a passion
that is violent and in some sense divine. [148] But who could bear with you,
with your passion for old women and old men, you who wipe the noses old
women and wash their faces, and try to win them over with gifts, and wait on
them like a slave when they’re ill, while you’re praying at the same time for
them to die, and are asking the doctors whether they’re at last on the point of
death? Or again, when for the sake of these great and venerable posts, you kiss
the hands of other men’s slaves, so making yourself the slave of people who
aren’t even free! [149] And then you strut around in front of me with grand airs
as a praetor or consul! Don’t I know how you came to be a praetor, and how you
acquired your consulship, and who gave it to you? [150] For my part, I wouldn’t
even want to stay alive if I had to live by Felicio’s favour, and put up with his
pride and slavish arrogance; for I know what a slave is who is in the lap of
fortune, as it seems, and is puffed up with pride.*

[151] ‘And you, are you free?’, the man asks.

By the gods, I want to be and pray to be, but I’m not yet able to look my masters
in the face, I still attach value to my poor body, and I take great care to keep it
whole and sound, despite the fact that it isn’t so. [152] But I can show you a free
man, to save you from having to search any longer for an example. Diogenes
was free. How so? Not because he was born of free parents, for he wasn’t, but
because he himself was free, because he had cast off everything that could allow
slavery to gain hold of him to enslave him. [153] Everything that he had he
could easily let go; everything was only loosely attached to him. If you had
seized all that he possessed, he would have abandoned it to you rather than
follow after you for its sake; and if you had seized his leg, he would have let that
go too; and if his whole body, he would have let his whole body go; and likewise
his parents, friends, and country. For he knew from where it was that he had
received these things, and from whom, and on what conditions. [154] As for his
true ancestors, the gods, and his true country, these he would never have
abandoned, nor would he have allowed any other person to surpass him in
obedience and submission to them, and no one would have died for his country
with a more cheerful heart than he. [155] For he never sought merely to give the
impression of doing anything on behalf of the universe,* but he remembered that
everything that comes about has that as its source, and is accomplished on behalf
of that country, and is ordained by the one who governs it. See accordingly what
Diogenes himself says and writes, [156] ‘For this reason,’ he says, ‘it is
permitted for you, Diogenes, to talk as you please with the king of the Persians,
and Archidamas,* king of the Spartans.’ [157] Was it because he was born of
free parents? I suppose it was because Athenians, Spartans, and Corinthians
were all children of slaves that they couldn’t speak as they wished to those
kings, but feared them and flattered them? [158] ‘Why are you permitted to do
so, then, Diogenes?’ ‘Because I regard this poor body as not my own, because I
have need of nothing, because the law is everything to me, and all else is
nothing.’ These are the things that permitted him to be a free man.

[159] And so that you may not think that I’m offering you as an example a man
who lived on his own, having neither wife, nor children, nor country, nor friends,
nor relations, who might have turned him aside and caused him to deviate from
his path, take Socrates and consider a man who had a wife and young children,
but didn’t regard them as being his own, and had a country, in so far as it was his
duty, and in the way in which that duty required, and had friends and relations,
all of this subject to the law and to obedience to the law. [160] That is why,
when it was his duty to serve as a soldier, he was the first to set out, and exposed
himself to the dangers of war without sparing himself in the least.* But he was
sent by the Thirty Tyrants to arrest Leon;* being sure in his mind that such a
deed would be shameful, he never even contemplated it, although he was well
aware that he might meet his death as a result, if things turned out that way.
[161] But what did that matter to him? For there was something else that he
wanted to preserve other than his body, namely, his character as a trustworthy
man, as a man of honour. These are things that cannot be violated, that cannot be
reduced to subjection. [162] And later, when he was on trial for his life* and had
to defend himself, did he conduct himself like a man who had children, who had
a wife? No, but like a man who lives on his own. And when he had to drink the
poison,* how did he behave then? [163] When he could have saved himself and
Crito said to him, ‘Make your escape for the sake of your children,’ what did he
reply? Did he regard that opportunity as a godsend? Not at all, he thought only
about what would be proper for him to do; the rest he didn’t even consider or
take into account. For he didn’t want, so he said, to save his poor body, but to
save that which finds growth and is preserved through right action, and is
diminished and destroyed through wrong action.* [164] Socrates didn’t save his
life at the cost of dishonour: he who had refused to put a motion to the vote
when the Athenians demanded it,* he who had held the Tyrants in contempt, he
who used to speak in such fine terms about virtue and moral goodness. [165]
This man could not be saved through dishonour, but it was by death that he was
saved, not by flight. Just as a good actor is saved when he stops at the point at
which he should, rather than by continuing to act beyond the proper time.

[166] ‘But what will the children do, then?’

‘If I had gone away to Thessaly, you would have looked after them; so when
I’ve gone down to Hades, will there be no one to look after them?’ See how he
calls death by fair names, and mocks at it. [167] If it had been you or I, we
would at once have set out to show by philosophical reasoning that ‘one needs to
protect oneself against those who act unjustly by repaying them in kind’, and we
would have added, ‘If I escape with my life, I’ll be useful to many another, but if
I die, I’ll be of use to no one.’ For if it had been necessary, we would have
crawled out through a mousehole to get away. [168] And how would we have
been of any use to anyone? For how could we have been if everyone else had
still been in Athens? And even if we could have been of some use alive,
wouldn’t we have been even more useful to mankind if we had died when we
ought, and as we ought? [169] And now that Socrates is dead, the memory of
him is no less useful to the human race, or even much more useful than all that
he did and said while still alive.

[170] Reflect on these things, these judgements, these arguments, and look at
these examples, if you want to be free, if you desire freedom in accordance with
its true value. [171] And why should you be surprised if you have to purchase
something of such value so dearly and at such high cost? For the sake of what
commonly passes for freedom, some people hang themselves, others hurl
themselves over cliffs, and sometimes whole cities have perished. [172] So for
the sake of true freedom, which is secure against all treachery and is inviolable,
won’t you return that which God has given you when he demands it back?
Won’t you not only, as Plato says, practise to die,* but even to suffer torture, to
go into exile, to be flogged, and in a word, give up everything that is not your
own? [173] Otherwise you’ll be a slave among slaves, even if you become a
consul ten thousand times; and even if you ascend to the palace, you’ll be no less
a slave, and you’ll recognize that, as Cleanthes remarked, what the philosophers
say may conflict with common opinion but not with reason.* [174] For you’ll
discover by experience that it is in fact true, and that the things that are highly
regarded and eagerly pursued are of no value to those who acquire them, while
those who have not yet acquired them fancy that, once they do, they’ll be in
possession of all that is good; but when they have them, there is the same
scorching heat as before, the same fierce agitation, the same sense of surfeit, the
same desire for what one doesn’t have. [175] For freedom is not attained through
the satisfaction of desires, but through the suppression of desires. [176] And so
that you may come to know the truth of this, as you have toiled hitherto for those
other things, now transfer that same effort to these instead; stay up at night so as
to acquire a judgement that will set you free, [177] and instead of paying court to
a rich old man, pay it to a philosopher, and be seen hanging around his doors.
You’ll incur no disgrace by being seen there, and you won’t come back empty-
handed and without profit if you approach him as you ought. Have a try at least;
there is no shame in trying.

4.2 On association with others

[1] This is a point to which you should attend before all others, that you should
never become so intimately associated with any of your former friends or
acquaintances that you sink down to the same level as them; for otherwise,
you’ll destroy yourself. [2] But if this thought worms its way into your mind,
that ‘I’ll seem churlish to him, and he won’t be as friendly to me as before,’
remember that nothing is gained without cost, and that it is impossible for
someone to remain the same as he was if he is no longer acting in the same way.
[3] Choose, then, which you prefer: to be held in the same affection as before by
your former friends by remaining as you used to be, or else become better than
you were and no longer meet with the same affection. [4] For if the latter course
is preferable, you should follow it immediately and not allow yourself to be
distracted by other considerations, because no one can make progress if he is
hesitating between two courses. No, if you’ve chosen this course above every
other, if you want to devote yourself to this alone, you must put aside everything
else. [5] Otherwise, if you’re caught between two paths, you’ll incur a double
penalty, since you’ll neither make progress as you ought nor acquire the things
that you used to enjoy. [6] For before, when you aimed plainly and simply at
things that are of no value, you made yourself agreeable to your companions. [7]
You can’t excel in two things at once, but in so far as you partake in one of
them, you’re bound to fall short in the other. If you no longer drink with the
people whom you used to drink with, you won’t seem as agreeable to them as
you did before. Choose, then, whether you want to be a heavy drinker and
pleasing to them, or a sober man and unpleasing to them. If you no longer sing
with the people whom you used to sing with, you can’t be held in the same
affection by them. Here, too, you have to choose which you prefer. [8] For if it
is better to have self-respect and be well behaved than have someone say of you,
‘What a delightful fellow’, you must give up all the rest, renounce it, turn your
back on it, have nothing more to do with it. [9] But if that isn’t to your taste, turn
wholly and completely in the opposite direction, become one of those perverts,
one of those adulterers; act accordingly and you’ll get what you want. Jump up
and down too, and shout out your applause to the dancer. [10] But roles as
different as these don’t mix. You can’t play Thersites* and Agamemnon at one
and the same time. If you want to be Thersites, you must be humpbacked and
bald; if Agamemnon, you must be tall and handsome and love your subjects.

4.3 What things should be exchanged for what?

[1] This is a thought that you should keep at hand to apply whenever you lose
any external thing: what are you acquiring in exchange for it? And if it should be
something more valuable, never say, ‘I’ve lost out.’ [2] You haven’t lost out if
you gain a horse in place of a donkey, an ox in place of a sheep, a fine deed in
place of a bit of spare cash, a sense of shame in place of salacious talk. [3] If you
keep this point in mind, you’ll always preserve your character as it ought to be.
Otherwise, you should consider that your time is being spent to no purpose, and
that all the efforts that you’re exerting on your own behalf will be squandered
and run to waste. [4] It takes very little to spoil and upset everything: just some
slight deviation from reason. [5] To capsize his ship, the helmsman doesn’t need
to make as much preparation as to keep it safe; he has only to steer a little too
much into the wind and all is lost; and even if he does so inadvertently, because
his attention has wandered, he is undone. [6] Such is the case here too: if you
nod off just for a moment, all that you’ve amassed up until then is lost and gone.
[7] Pay careful attention, then, to your impressions; watch over them
unceasingly. For it is not something of little importance that you’re trying to
preserve, but self-respect, fidelity, impassibility, freedom from distress, fear, and
anxiety, and, in a word, freedom. [8] At what price will you sell that? Consider
how much it is worth.

‘But I shan’t get anything like that in exchange for what I’m giving up.’

If you do in fact get it, consider what it is that you’re getting in exchange. [9] ‘I
have orderly conduct, he a tribune’s post; he a praetor’s post,* and I self-respect.
But I don’t shout out where it is unseemly, I won’t jump up when I shouldn’t,
because I’m a free man and a friend of God, so I obey him of my own free will.
[10] As for other things, there is none that I should lay claim to, neither body,
nor possessions, nor office, nor reputation—in a word, nothing whatever; nor is
it God’s wish that I should lay claim to them. For if it had been, he would have
made them good for me. But in point of fact he hasn’t done so, and in view of
that, I cannot disobey any of his commands.’ [11] Safeguard your own good in
all that you do; and as for the rest, simply take what is granted to you in so far as
you can make reasonable use of it, and be satisfied with that alone. [12] These
are the laws, these are the edicts, that have been transmitted to you from above;
it is these that you should set out to interpret; it is these that you should submit
to, not those of Masurius and Cassius.*

4.4 To those who have set their hearts on living at peace

[1] Remember that it is not only desire for office and wealth that debases men
and makes them subservient to others, but also desire for quiet, and leisure, and
travel, and learning. In a word, if you place value on any external thing,
whatever it may be, that will cause you to become subject to others. [2] What
difference does it make, then, whether you set your desire on becoming a
senator, or on not becoming one? What difference is there between saying on the
one hand, ‘Things are bad for me; I can’t do a thing because I’m tied to my
books as though to a corpse,’ and on the other hand, ‘Things are bad for me, I
have no spare time for reading’? [3] For just as salutations and public posts
belong among external things that lie outside the sphere of choice, so also does a
book. [4] Or why is it that you want to read? Tell me that. If you turn to reading
for the sake of entertainment or to acquire knowledge of some kind, you’re
frivolous and lazy. But if you’re directing your reading to the right end, what
else could that be than happiness? And if reading doesn’t secure happiness for
you, what use does it serve?

[5] ‘But it does secure that for me,’ the man says, ‘and that is why I’m unhappy
at being deprived of the opportunity.’

And what kind of happiness is that if virtually anything, I don’t say Caesar or a
friend of Caesar, but a crow, a flautist, a fever, or a thousand other things, can
stand in the way of it? Now nothing characterizes happiness better than the fact
that it isn’t subject to interruption or obstruction. [6] I’m now called away to do
something or another: I’ll go off at once, taking care to observe the standards
that ought to be maintained, so as to act with self-respect, with sure purpose, and
without desire or aversion with regard to external things; [7] and secondly, I pay
attention to other people, to what they say, and to their gestures, not doing so in
any ill-natured manner or in the hope of finding something to criticize or laugh
at, but to enable me to look back into myself to check whether I too am
committing some fault. ‘How can I stop doing so, then?’ There was once a time
when I too used to commit these faults, but now no longer, thanks be to God.

[8] Come now, when you’ve acted in this way and attended to these points, have
you acted any worse than if you’d read a thousand lines or written as many? For
while you’re acting, are you annoyed at not being able to read? Aren’t you
satisfied to act in accordance with the principles that you’ve learned through
your reading? And so too when you bathe, or when you take exercise? [9] Why
don’t you act consistently, then, in all that you do, both when you’re
approaching Caesar and when you’re approaching some ordinary person? If you
keep yourself free from emotion, and remain imperturbable and composed, [10]
if you make yourself a spectator of events rather than offering yourself as a
spectacle, if you feel no envy for those who are preferred above you, if you don’t
allow yourself to be flustered by circumstances, what is there that you lack? [11]
Books? How or for what purpose?

‘Doesn’t reading help to prepare us for life?’

But life is full of many other things apart from books. It is as if an athlete, on
entering the stadium, should burst into tears because he is no longer able to carry
on training outside. [12] This is what you were training for, this is what your
jumping-weights were for, and the sand too, and your young training partners.
And are you now looking for these when the time for action has arrived? [13]
That is just as if, in the sphere of assent, when we’re presented with impressions,
some of them convincing and others not, we should refuse to distinguish
between them and want to read a treatise On Understanding* instead.

[14] What, then, is the reason for this? It is because you have never read and
never written with this aim in view, to be able to deal in accordance with nature
with the impressions that present themselves to us, but instead we stop at this, at
learning what is said and being able to explain it to someone else, and analysing
syllogisms and examining hypothetical arguments. [15] So where our
enthusiasm lies, there also lies the obstacle. Do you want to have at any cost
things that are not within your power? Then be subject to hindrance, obstruction,
and failure. [16] But if we read treatises On Motivation not merely to know what
is said there about motivation, but so as to be able to direct our motives rightly;
or a treatise On Desire and Aversion so that we may never fail in our desires or
fall into what we want to avoid; or a treatise On Appropriate Actions* so that we
may keep in mind our social relationships and never act irrationally or in a way
that conflicts with them [17] —if we approached our reading in that spirit, we
wouldn’t be vexed at being hindered with regard to our reading, but would be
satisfied to accomplish the actions that are in accord with them, and we wouldn’t
be reckoning things up as we’ve been accustomed to do up until now, ‘Today
I’ve read this many lines, and I’ve written this many,’ but would do so in this
way instead, [18] ‘Today I’ve formed my motives as the philosophers
recommend, I haven’t exercised any desire, I’ve confined my aversions solely to
things that lie within the sphere of choice, I haven’t allowed myself to be
intimidated by So-and-so, or disconcerted by So-and-so, I’ve exercised my
patience, my abstinence, my cooperativeness.’ And thus we should be thanking
God for what we ought to be thanking him for.

[19] But as it is, we don’t realize that we ourselves, though in a different fashion,
are coming to be just like everyone else. Someone else is afraid that he won’t
gain office, while you’re afraid that you will. In no way should you be afraid,
man! [20] But just as you laugh at someone who is afraid of not gaining office,
so also laugh at yourself. For it makes no difference whether one thirsts for
water because one has a fever, or one has a dread of water because one has
rabies. [21] Or how could you still be able to say along with Socrates, ‘If this is
what God pleases, so be it!’* Do you suppose that if Socrates had wished for
nothing other than to spend his time at the Lyceum or Academy,* and engage in
conversation every day with the young men there, he would have been as happy
to set out on the campaigns on which he so often served?* Wouldn’t he have
wept and groaned, saying, ‘Poor unfortunate man that I am, I’m now in misery
and misfortune when I might have been sunning myself in the Lyceum!’ [22]
Was this your task in life, to warm yourself in the sun? Wasn’t it, rather, to be
happy, and be free from hindrance and obstruction? And how would he still have
been Socrates if he had lamented in that way? How would he still have been able
to write hymns of praise* in prison?

[23] In a word, remember this, that if you attach value to anything at all that lies
outside the sphere of choice, you’ve destroyed your choice. Not only is office
outside that sphere, but also freedom from office; and not only want of leisure,
but also leisure itself.

[24] ‘Must I spend my life, then, in the midst of all this commotion?’

What do you mean by commotion? Being among crowds of people? And what
hardship is there in that? Imagine that you’re at Olympia; think of it as a festival.
There, too, one man shouts one thing and another shouts another, and one man
does this and another does that, and one man knocks up against another, and
there is a crowd of people at the baths. And yet who among us fails to take
pleasure in the festival, and who isn’t sorry to leave? [25] Don’t be irritable,
don’t be oversensitive about what comes to pass. ‘Vinegar is horrible because
it’s sour.’ ‘Honey is horrible because it upsets my digestion.’ ‘I don’t like
vegetables.’ And likewise, ‘I don’t like having nothing to do: it’s a desert.’ ‘I
don’t like a crowd: it’s a commotion.’ [26] Why, if things turn out in such a way
that you find yourself living alone, or with few companions, call that peace and
quiet, and make use of those circumstances as you ought; converse with
yourself, work on your impressions, perfect your preconceptions. But if you get
caught in a crowd, call it the games, call it a public gathering, call it a festival,
[27] and join in the festival with everyone else. For what sight could be more
pleasant to someone who loves his fellow human beings than a crowd of people?
We look with pleasure at herds of horses and cattle, and are delighted to see a
large fleet of ships; so is one to be distressed to see a crowd of people?

[28] ‘But they deafen me with their shouting!’

Then it is your hearing that is impeded. What does that matter to you? Is your
ability to deal with impressions hampered in the same way? And who can
prevent you from exercising your desire and aversion in accordance with nature,
and so too your motives to act or not to act? What commotion has power enough
to do that?

[29] Just remember these general principles: ‘What is mine, what isn’t mine?
What is granted to me? What does God want me to do now, and what doesn’t he
want?’ [30] A short while ago, he wanted you to be at leisure, to talk with
yourself, to write about these matters, and to read, listen, and prepare yourself.
You’ve had time enough for that. Now he tells you, ‘The time has come for you
to proceed to the contest, show us what you’ve learned and how you’ve trained.
How long, then, are you going to carry out exercises on your own? It is now time
for you to find out whether you belong among the athletes who are worthy of
victory, or only those who travel around the world suffering one defeat after
another.’ [31] Why are you upset, then? There can be no contest without a
commotion. There are bound to be many trainers, many people shouting out,
many officials, and many spectators.

[32] ‘But I wanted to live in peace and quiet.’

Well, lament, then, and groan, because you deserve nothing else. For what
greater punishment can there be for one who is uneducated and disobeys the
divine commander than to grieve and feel envy, and in a word, be miserable and
unfortunate? Don’t you want to deliver yourself from all of that?

[33] ‘And how can I do so?’

Haven’t you heard it repeatedly stated that you must completely eradicate
desire,* and direct your aversion solely towards things that lie within the sphere
of choice, and that you must give up everything, your body, possessions,
reputation, and books or commotion, and office or freedom from office? For if
you turn aside from this course, you’ve become a slave, you’re subject to others,
you’re liable to hindrance and constraint, you’re entirely in the power of others.
[34] No, you should keep the saying of Cleanthes at hand, ‘Guide me, O Zeus,
and thou, O Destiny’.* Is it your wish that I should go to Rome? To Rome I go.
To Gyara? Then to Gyara. To Athens? Then to Athens. Into prison? Then into
prison. [35] But if you once come to say, ‘Oh when will one be able to get to
Athens?’, you’re lost. For if this wish remains unfulfilled, it is bound to make
you unhappy, or if it is fulfilled, you’ll be puffed up with empty pride about
things that oughtn’t to be a source of pride; and on other hand, if you meet with
obstacles, you’ll suffer the misfortune of falling into what you want to avoid.
[36] So be done with all of that.

‘Athens is a fine city.’

But to be happy is finer still, and to be free from passion, and calm of mind, and
be subject to no one else with regard to your own affairs.

[37] ‘Rome is full of commotion and people who have to be greeted.’

But happiness compensates for all that is disagreeable. If the time comes for
such things, then, why don’t you suppress any aversion towards them? What
need do you have to carry your burden like a donkey that is being rained with
blows? [38] Or else, you should be clear that you’re always bound to be the
slave of the man who is able to secure your release, of the man who is able to
hinder you in any regard, and that you’ll have to serve him as an evil genius.*

[39] There is one path alone that leads to happiness—and keep this thought at
hand morning, noon, and night—it is to renounce any claim to anything that lies
outside the sphere of choice, to regard nothing as being your own, to surrender
everything to the deity, to fortune, to consign the administration of everything to
those whom Zeus himself has appointed to carry out that task, [40] and to devote
yourself to one thing alone, that which is your own, that which is free from all
hindrance, and when you read, to refer your reading to that end, and so too with
your writing and your listening. [41] For that reason, I cannot call someone
industrious merely because I hear that he reads and writes, and even if someone
adds that he works away at it all night through, I couldn’t yet call him
industrious until I know what he is aiming at in doing so. For you wouldn’t call a
man industrious either because he stays awake for love of a young girl, and nor
would I. [42] But if he acts in this way for the sake of his reputation, I call him
ambitious, or if for money, avaricious, rather than industrious. [43] If, by
contrast, he refers all his efforts to his own ruling centre, as he strives to bring it
into accord with nature and to keep it so, in that case alone do I call him
industrious. [44] For you should never praise or criticize a person for things that
may be either good or bad, but for his judgements alone. It is these that are each
person’s special property; it is these that make his actions good or bad.

[45] Keeping these principles in mind, rejoice in what you have and be content
with what the moment brings. [46] If you see that any of the things that you have
learned about and enquired into are presenting themselves to you to be put into
practice, then rejoice in them. If you have put aside malice and abuse, or indulge
in them less, and so too over-hastiness, foul language, recklessness, or
negligence, if you’re not moved by the things that you were formerly moved by,
or at least not to the same degree as before, you’ll be able to view each and every
day as a festival, today because you’ve conducted yourself well in this action,
and tomorrow because you’ve acted well in another. [47] How much better
reason does this provide for you to offer a sacrifice than because you’ve been
appointed to be a consul or a governor! For these things come to you from
yourself alone and from the gods. Remember who it is that gives them, and to
whom, and for what end. [48] If you’re nourished by thoughts such as these,
what need do you have to enquire any longer as to where you are to find
happiness, and where you will please God? Aren’t people just the same distance
from God wherever they are? And wherever they are, don’t they have just the
same view of what is coming about?

4.5 Against those who are quarrelsome and brutal

[1] A virtuous and good person neither quarrels with anyone, nor, so far as he
can, does he allow anyone else to quarrel. [2] In this matter, as in so much else,
an example is set for us in the life of Socrates, who not only made a consistent
practice of avoiding quarrels for his own part, but also tried to prevent others
from quarrelling. [3] In Xenophon’s Symposium, see how many quarrels he
settled; and again, how patient he was in dealing with Thrasymachus, Polus, and
Callicles,* and how patient he used to be with his wife, and with his son, too,
when the latter tried to refute him with sophistical arguments.* [4] For he kept
the thought firmly fixed in his mind that no one can exert control over another
person’s ruling centre; and he thus wanted nothing other than what was truly his
own. [5] And what is that? It is not that we should try to make some other
person act in accordance with his nature, because that is not within our power,
but that while other people are attending to their own affairs as they think best,
he himself should act nonetheless in accord with nature and continue to do so,
attending to his own business alone in such a way that others too may be in
accord with nature. [6] For that is the aim that a virtuous and good person should
always set before him. Is it to become praetor? No, but if that is granted to him,
to safeguard his ruling centre in those circumstances. To marry? No, but if it
should be granted to him to marry, to keep himself in accord with nature in those
circumstances. [7] But if he wishes that his son or wife should never commit a
fault, he is wishing that things that are not his own should be his own; and
becoming properly educated consists in this, in coming to know what is our own
and what is not our own.

[8] What room is left for contention, then, if someone is in this state of mind?
For is he surprised by anything that comes about? Does anything seem
extraordinary to him? Doesn’t he expect to receive worse and harsher treatment
from the wicked than in fact comes to him? Doesn’t he count it a gain when
anything that they do falls short of the worst? ‘That man abused you.’ [9] I’m
most grateful that he didn’t hit me. ‘But he has gone on to hit you.’ I’m most
grateful that he hasn’t killed me. [10] For when did he ever learn, and from
whom, that man is a sociable creature who loves his neighbours, and that
injustice is of itself a cause of great harm to one who inflicts it?* Since he has
never learned that and never become convinced of it, why shouldn’t he follow
the course that seems to him to be in his best interest? [11] ‘My neighbour has
thrown stones at me.’ Is it you who has committed a fault, then? ‘But things in
my house have been broken.’ Are you some household utensil, then? [12] No,
but choice. So what means of defence have you been given to protect you
against such thing? Are you a wolf that you should bite back, and throw more
stones at them than they threw at you? But if you’re seeking to act as a human
being, consider what resources you have; see what faculties you brought into this
world with you. Was it the savagery of a wild beast? Was it the spirit of
revenge? [13] When is a horse miserable, then? When it is deprived of its natural
faculties; not when it can’t sing like a cuckoo, but when it can’t run. [14] And a
dog? When it can’t fly? No, but when it can’t follow the scent. So isn’t it the
case likewise that a human being will be unhappy, not when he can’t strangle
lions or embrace statues* (because he didn’t come into the world endowed with
faculties for that), but when he has lost his kind-heartedness, his trustworthiness?

[15] This is the kind of person whom people should ‘gather together to mourn
because he has come into the world to meet with so many evils’, and not, by
Zeus, for ‘the one who is born or the one who has died’,* but the one whose lot
it has been to lose while still alive what is truly his own, not his inheritance, his
wretched land and house, his inn and his poor slaves—for none of these things
truly belong to a man, but all are foreign to him, and slavish, and subject to
others, given by their masters now to one person and now to another—but rather
the qualities that characterize him as a human being, the imprints that he bore in
his mind when he entered the world, [16] resembling those that we look for on
coins, so that if we find them, we accept the coin, but reject it if we don’t
—‘Whose imprint does this coin carry? [17] That of Trajan? Accept it. That of
Nero?* Throw it away, it won’t pass the test, it’s rubbish.’ So, too, in the present
case. What imprint do his judgements carry? ‘Gentleness, sociability, patience,
love of his neighbour.’ Bring him to me, I’ll accept him, I’ll make him my
fellow citizen, I’ll accept him as a neighbour or a travelling companion. [18] See
only that he doesn’t carry the imprint of Nero. Is he quick to anger, is he prone
to rage, is he discontented with his lot? [19] ‘If the fancy takes him, he smashes
the heads of those whom he meets.’ Then why did you say that he is a man? Is it
simply on the basis of its outward appearance that one judges the nature of a
thing? Why, on that ground you could call a ball of wax an apple.* [20] No, it
must also have the taste and smell of an apple; the external form doesn’t suffice.
So likewise, the presence of eyes and a nose doesn’t suffice to show that
someone is a human being, but he must also have such judgements as befit a
human being. [21] Here is someone who doesn’t listen to reason, and doesn’t
understand when he is refuted: he is a donkey. Here is one in whom all sense of
shame is dead: he is a worthless creature, anything other than a human being.
Here is someone who is looking for somebody to kick or bite: so he is neither a
sheep nor a donkey, but some sort of wild beast.

[22] ‘What, do you want me to make myself despised?’

By whom? By people of understanding? And how will such people be able to

despise someone who is gentle and modest? By people who have no
understanding? Why worry about them? Any more than a craftsman worries
about people who have no knowledge of his craft.

[23] ‘But they’ll become all the more worked up against me.’

What do you mean by ‘against me’? Can anyone injure your choice, or prevent
you, when impressions present themselves to you, from dealing with them in
accordance with nature?—‘No one can.’ [24] —Then why should you still be
troubled, and why do you want to show yourself to be timid? Why don’t you
come forward instead to proclaim that you’re especially amused by those who
imagine that they’re able to harm you? ‘These slaves don’t know who I am, or
where my good and evil lie, and they have no access to those things that are truly
my own.’

[25] It is in this way too that the inhabitants of a well-fortified city laugh at those
who are besieging them: ‘Why are those men going to all that trouble to no
purpose? Our walls are secure; we have provisions that will last for a very long
time, as will all the rest of our supplies.’ [26] That is what renders a city secure
and impregnable, and in the case of a human mind, it is nothing other than its
judgements.* For what manner of wall is so strong, or what manner of body so
steely, or what property so safe against theft, or what reputation so unassailable?
[27] All things everywhere are perishable and easily captured, and anyone who
becomes attached to them in any way will necessarily be troubled in his mind,
and worry about what the future will bring, and be subject to fear and sorrow,
and is bound to be frustrated in his desires, and to fall into what he wants to
avoid. [28] In view of this, aren’t we willing to shore up the one and only means
of safety that has been granted to us? And aren’t we willing to renounce what is
perishable and slavish, to devote our efforts instead to what is imperishable and
free by nature? And don’t we remember that no one can cause harm or bring
benefit to any other person, but that it is a person’s judgement alone about each
thing that harms him, and upsets him, and this is what gives rise to dissension,
and civil strife, and war? [29] What made Eteocles and Polynices* the enemies
that they became was nothing other than the judgements that they held about the
throne and about exile: that the latter is the greatest of evils, and the former the
greatest of goods. [30] Now it lies in the nature of every being to pursue the
good and avoid what is bad; and to regard anyone who deprives us of the former
and involves us in the latter as an enemy, as a traitor, even if he is a brother, a
son, or a father, because nothing is dearer to us than the good. [31] It thus
follows that if these external things are good or bad, no father will be dear to his
sons, and no brother dear to his brother, but the world will be filled on every side
with enemies, traitors, and informers. [32] But if it is in applying choice as we
ought, and in that alone, that the good lies, and in applying it wrongly, and in
that alone, that evil lies, what place is left for dissension, what place is left for
vilification? About what? About things that are nothing to us? Against whom?
Against those who are ignorant, those who are wretched, those who have
allowed themselves to be deceived about the most important issues.

[33] Socrates kept these principles in mind in his domestic life, putting up with
his ill-tempered wife and unfeeling son. For in what way did she show her
temper? In pouring as much water as she wanted over his head, and in treading
his cake under her feet;* and what is that to me, if I regard these things as being
of no concern to me? [34] To adopt such an attitude is my task, and no tyrant can
hinder me in this, contrary to my own will, nor can any master, nor can the
crowd hinder an individual, nor can the stronger hinder the weaker, because this
has been granted to us by God free from all hindrance. [35] These are the
judgements that bring love into a household, and concord into a state, and peace
among nations; and cause a person to be grateful to God, and confident at all
times, in the conviction that the things that he is dealing with are not his own,
and are of no value to him. [36] But for our part, we may be able to write about
these matters, and give them our approval when we read about them, but we’re
very far from being convinced of them. [37] And so that proverb about the
Spartans ‘Lions at home, but foxes at Ephesus’* applies to us too: we’re lions in
the schoolroom but foxes outside.

4.6 To those who are distressed at being pitied

[1] ‘It annoys me’, someone says, ‘to be pitied.’

Is this your doing, then, that you’re pitied, or that of those who are doing the
pitying? Well then, are you in a position to prevent this?

‘It lies in my power, if I can show them that I don’t deserve their pity.’

[2] But is this something that you have within your power, to deserve or not
deserve pity?

‘Yes, I think that it is in my power. But these people don’t pity me for those
things that, if anything, would be deserving of pity, that is to say, for my faults,
but rather for poverty, lack of office, illnesses and deaths, and other things of
that kind.’

[3] Are you ready, then, to convince the mass of people that none of these are in
fact bad, but that one can be happy even when one is poor, and holds no office,
and enjoys no honour; or are you ready to make a show to them of being a
wealthy man and an official? [4] The second of these two approaches is that of a
braggart, and a mediocre and worthless person. And consider what means you
must adopt to uphold this pretence. You’ll have to borrow some slaves, and own
a few pieces of silverware, and show them off in public repeatedly, if possible,
while trying to conceal the fact that they’re always the same; and you’ll need to
have flashy clothing and all kinds of finery, and make a show of being honoured
by the most eminent people, and try to dine with them, or at least make others
believe that you’re dining with them, and as regards your body, resort to mean
tricks to appear better looking and of higher birth than you really are. [5] All this
you must set in train if you want to adopt the second course, to avoid being
pitied.

As for the first course, it is both impracticable and long to attempt that very thing
that Zeus has been unable to achieve, to convince everyone about what things
are good and what are bad. [6] That power hasn’t been granted to you, has it?
The power that you’ve been granted is to convince yourself, and you have yet to
do so. Then tell me, are you going to attempt to convince other people? [7] Why,
who has lived with you as long as you’ve been living with yourself? And who
could persuade you so convincingly as you could convince yourself? Who could
be better disposed towards you and closer to you than you are to yourself? [8]
How is it, then, that you haven’t yet managed to persuade yourself to acquire this
knowledge? Isn’t it the case that everything is upside down at present? Is this
what you’ve been anxious to learn: how to be delivered from grief, disturbance,
and humiliation, and be free? [9] Haven’t you heard, then, that there is only a
single path that leads to that end: to give up things that lie outside the sphere of
choice, and turn away from them, and acknowledge that they’re not your own?
[10] The opinion that someone else holds about you, then, what kind of a thing is
that?—‘Something that lies outside the sphere of choice.’—So isn’t it nothing to
you?—‘Nothing at all.’—So while you continue to be disturbed and nettled by
the opinions of others, do you suppose that you’re properly convinced about
what is good and bad?

[11] Won’t you let other people be, then, and become your own teacher and your
own pupil? ‘Let others look to whether it is in their interest to be out of accord
with nature and pass their lives in that condition, but as for me, no one is closer
to me than I myself am. [12] How is it, then, that when I’ve listened to the
arguments of the philosophers and have given my assent to them, my burden has
in fact become none the lighter? Am I really so lacking in ability? And yet in
everything else that I’ve wanted to engage in, I haven’t been found to be so very
incompetent, but I learned my letters quickly enough, and wrestling and
geometry too, and how to analyse syllogisms. [13] Can it be, then, that reason
has failed to convince me? In point of fact, there is nothing that I’ve so approved
of from the beginning, or that I’ve liked better, and these are the matters that I
now spend my time reading about, hearing about, and writing about. Up until
now we haven’t found a stronger argument than this. [14] What is it that I lack,
then? Can it be that the contrary opinions haven’t been eradicated from my
mind? Or can it be that the thoughts themselves haven’t been properly exercised,
that I haven’t got into the habit of confronting them with the facts, but that
instead, like old pieces of armour that have been stored away, they’ve grown
rusty and no longer fit me? [15] Yet when it comes to wrestling, or writing, or
reading, I’m not satisfied merely to learn, but I turn the arguments that are
presented to me round and round in my mind, and I put together new ones, and
equivocal arguments too. [16] Yet in the case of the essential principles, those
that could serve as a starting point in enabling one to become delivered from
grief, fear, passion, and hindrance, to become free, I neither train myself in them,
nor do I devote such study to them as I ought. [17] And after that I worry about
what other people will say about me, and whether I’ll strike them as a man of
note, a man who is happy.’

[18] Poor wretch, won’t you see what you’re saying about yourself? What kind
of person do you view yourself as being? What kind of person in your thoughts,
in your desires, in your aversions? And in your motives, preparations, and
projects,* and in all other human activities? Instead of that, you’re worrying
about whether other people are pitying you?

[19] ‘Yes, but I don’t deserve to be pitied.’

So that is what is upsetting you? But if someone is upset, isn’t he worthy of pity?

‘Yes.’

How can it still be true, then, that you’re being pitied without deserving to be?
By these very feelings that pity awakens in you, you’re making yourself worthy
of pity. [20] What does Antisthenes say, then? Have you never heard it? ‘It is a
king’s lot, Cyrus, to act well and be ill spoken of.’* [21] My head is perfectly
well and everyone thinks that I have a headache. What does that matter to me? I
don’t have a fever and everyone is sympathizing with me as if I did. ‘Poor man,
you’ve had a fever all this while and it won’t go away.’ I assume a doleful
expression and say, ‘Yes, to be sure, it is quite some time that I’ve been
unwell.’—‘What will come of it, then?’—‘As God wills.’ And at the same time,
I’m secretly laughing at those who are taking pity on me.

[22] So what is to prevent me from acting in the same way in the present case?
I’m poor, but I have a correct judgement about poverty. What does it matter to
me, then, if others take pity on me because of my poverty? I hold no power, and
others do. But I think as I ought to think about exercising power or not
exercising it. [23] Let those who pity me look to that, but for my part, I’m
neither hungry, nor thirsty, nor cold, and yet because in their own eyes they’re
hungry and thirsty, they imagine that the same must be true of me too. What
shall I do for them, then? Am I to go around proclaiming, ‘Don’t be mistaken,
men, all is well with me, I don’t care a whit about poverty, or lack of office, or in
a word, about anything other than having correct judgements; these I possess
free from hindrance, and there is nothing else that I care about.’ [24] Oh, what
foolish talk is that? How can it still be true that I hold correct judgements if I’m
not satisfied to be what I am, but get worked up about what other people will
think of me?

[25] ‘But other people will get more than I do, and be honoured above me.’

Why, what could be more reasonable than the fact that, if people devote their
efforts to achieving a particular end, they’ll have the advantage in those things to
which they’ve devoted their efforts? They’ve devoted their efforts to obtaining
public posts, you to your judgements. They to riches, you to the proper use of
your impressions. [26] See whether they have the advantage over you in the
things that you’ve devoted your efforts to and they’ve neglected; and whether
their assent is more in accord with nature, whether they’re more successful in
achieving their desires, or in not falling into what they want to avoid, whether
they’re surer in achieving their goal in their designs, their purposes, their
motives, whether they observe their duties as men, as sons, as parents, and then
in all their other social relationships according to its name. [27] But if they hold
public posts, aren’t you willing to tell yourself the truth, that you do nothing for
your part to achieve that, while they do everything, and that it would be
altogether unreasonable for someone who takes pains over something to be less
successful in achieving it than someone who doesn’t.

[28] ‘No, but because I take more care about forming correct judgements, it is
more reasonable that I should exercise authority.’

Indeed, in that which you take trouble over, namely, judgements; but in those
things that others have taken more trouble over than you, give way to them. It is
just as if you were to claim, on the ground that you have correct judgements, you
should be better at hitting the target in archery than archers are, or better at
forging iron than blacksmiths are. [29] So stop being so earnest about your
judgements, and turn your attention to the things that you wish to acquire; and
then weep if you have no success in getting those, because then you deserve to
weep. [30] But as it is, you claim to be occupied with other things, to be
attending to other things, and as people rightly say, ‘One form of business
doesn’t go together with another.’

[31] One man gets up at dawn and looks for someone from Caesar’s household
to salute, someone to whom he may address pleasing words, or to whom he may
send a gift, and thinks how he may please the dancer, or how he may gratify
someone by maligning somebody else. [32] When he prays, he prays for things
like these; when he sacrifices, he sacrifices for things like these. The saying of
Pythagoras ‘Let not sleep descend on your weary eyes’ he applies for this
purpose: [33] ‘Where did I go wrong’ in dishing out flattery? ‘What did I do?’*
Can it be that I acted as a free man, a man of noble character? And if he
discovers any action of that kind, he rebukes and accuses himself, saying, ‘Why
did you have to say that? Wasn’t it possible for you to lie? Even the philosophers
say that there is nothing to prevent us from telling a lie.’*

[34] But if you’ve truly given attention to nothing else than how to make right
use of your impressions, you should ask yourself as soon as you get up in the
morning, ‘What have I still to do to achieve freedom from passion? To achieve
peace of mind? Who am I? Surely not a mere body? Or possessions, or
reputation? None of these things. But what? I’m a rational living being.’ [35]
What is required, then, of such a being? Go over your actions in your mind.
‘Where have I gone wrong’ with regard to achieving happiness? ‘What did I do’
that was unfriendly, or unsociable, or inconsiderate? ‘What have I not done that I
ought to have done’ with regard to these matters?

[36] Since people differ so greatly, then, in their desires and actions, and in what
they pray for, do you still want to have an equal share with others in those things
to which you’ve devoted no effort but they’ve devoted every effort? [37] And
after that, are you surprised that they take pity on you, and are you vexed by it?
But they’re not worried if you take pity on them. Why not? Because for their
part, they’re convinced that they’re getting good things, while you on your side
have no such conviction. [38] And so you’re not contented with what you have,
but yearn for what they have, while they on their side are contented with what
they have and don’t yearn for what you have. For if you were truly convinced
that, with respect to what is good, you’re in possession of it while they’ve gone
completely astray, you wouldn’t even have given a thought to what they’re
saying about you.

4.7 On freedom from fear

[1] What makes a tyrant frightening?—‘His guards’, the man says, ‘and their
swords, and the chamberlains, and those who shut out people who try to enter.’
[2] —Why is it, then, that when you bring a child in front of him when he is
surrounded by his guards, the child isn’t afraid? Is it because the child doesn’t
properly notice the guards? [3] Now, if someone is fully aware of them, and of
the fact that they’re carrying swords, and has come precisely because he wants
to die, as the result of some misfortune, and is seeking an easy death at someone
else’s hand, he won’t be frightened of the guards either, will he?—‘No, because
he wants the very thing that causes them to be frightening.’ [4] —Well then, if
someone who has no particular desire either to die or to live, but is happy to
accept whatever is granted, comes into the presence of the tyrant, what is to
prevent him from approaching him without fear?—‘Nothing.’ [5] —If someone
feels the same, then, about his property, and his children, as that man feels about
his body, and, in short, he has been brought into such a state by some madness
or despair that he doesn’t care whether he has them or not, but as children
playing with bits of pottery* compete with one another in the game without
caring about the bits of pottery, so he too has come to set no value on material
things, but merely takes pleasure in the game and its moves, what tyrant could
still inspire him with fear, or what guards, or what swords of theirs?

[6] Well then, if madness can cause people to adopt such an attitude towards
these things, and habit too, as in the case of the Galileans,* can’t reason and
demonstration teach people that God has made all that is in the universe, and the
universe itself as a whole, to be free from hindrance, and self-sufficient, and has
made all the parts of it to serve the needs of the whole? [7] Now, all other
animals have been excluded from being able to understand the divine governing
order, but the rational animal possesses resources that enable him to reflect on all
these things, and know that he is a part of them, and what kind of part, and that it
is well for the parts to yield to the whole. [8] And furthermore, because he is by
nature noble-minded, great-hearted, and free, he sees that, of the things that
pertain to him, he possesses some of them free from all hindrance and within his
own power, while others are subject to hindrance and within the power of other
people. Free from hindrance are those things that lie within the sphere of choice,
while those that lie outside the sphere of choice are subject to hindrance. [9] And
for that reason, if he regards his own good and advantage as lying in the former
alone, the things that are free from hindrance and within his own power, he’ll be
free, contented, happy, invulnerable, magnanimous, reverent, and one who is
grateful to God for everything, and never finds fault with anything that comes
about, and never casts blame on anyone. [10] But if, on the other hand, he
regards his good and advantage as lying in external things that lie outside the
sphere of choice, he must inevitably be subject to constraint and hindrance, and
be enslaved to those who have power over the things that he admires and fears;
[11] and he must necessarily be impious because he thinks that God is causing
him harm, and be unjust because he will always be trying to secure more than his
proper share, and he is bound to be base and mean-spirited too.

[12] When someone has come to understand these things, what is to prevent him
from living with a light heart and easy mind, calmly awaiting whatever may
happen, and putting up with what has already happened. [13] Is it your wish that
I should be poor? Bring it on, then, and you’ll see what poverty is when it finds a
good actor to play the part. Is it your wish that I should hold office? Bring it on.
Is it your wish that I should be deprived of office? Bring it on. Is it your wish
that I should suffer hardships? Bring those on too. [14] What, and exile?
Wherever I go, all will be well with me, since that was also the case here, not
because of the place but because of my judgements, and those that I’ll carry
away with me; for no one can take them away from me; they’re the only things
that are truly my own, and it is enough for me that I should possess them,
wherever I am and whatever I’m doing.

[15] ‘But the time has come for you to die.’

Why do you say ‘to die’?* Don’t make a tragedy of the matter, but tell it as it is:
‘It is now time for the material of which you’re composed to return to the
elements from which it came.’ And what is terrible in that? What element among
all that make up the universe will be fated to perish? What new or extraordinary
thing is going to come about? [16] Is it because of this that the tyrant awakens
fear? Is it for this reason that the swords of the guards seem long and sharp? Let
others be afraid of such things! For my part I’ve enquired into them, and no one
holds any power over me. [17] I’ve been set free by God, I know his commands,
no one has the power any longer to enslave me, I have the right emancipator, I
have the right judges. [18] You hold mastery over my body? Why, what is that
to me? Don’t you have the power to send me into exile or throw me into chains?
Again, I yield all of that to you, and my poor body in its entirety, at whatever
time you wish. Test out your power on me, and you’ll see how far it extends!

[19] Who can I still be afraid of? The chamberlains? Why, what could they do,
shut the door on me? If they find me wanting to enter, let them shut the door on
me!—‘Why come to the door, then?’—Because I think it fitting for me to take
part in the game as long as it lasts. [20] —‘How does it come about, then, that
you’re not shut out?—Because if I’m not admitted, I have no wish to go in, but
rather, I always want what actually comes about; for I judge whatever God wants
as being better than what I want; I’ll attach myself to him as a servant and
follower, I’ll share his impulses, I’ll share his desires, and in a word, make his
will my will. [21] Being shut out is something that can’t happen to me, but only
to those who try to force their way in. Why is it, then, that I don’t try to force my
way in? Because I know that nothing good is distributed inside to those who
make their way in. No, when I hear anyone described as happy because he has
been honoured by Caesar, I ask, ‘What has he gained? Has he also gained the
judgements that he ought to have if he is to govern a province? Has he gained
the capacity to carry out the duties of a procurator?’ Why, then, should I try to
force my way in? They’re scattering nuts and figs. [22] The children scramble to
pick them up and fight among themselves; but men don’t do so, because they
regard this as being a trivial matter. And if one scatters bits of pottery, the
children themselves don’t scramble for them. [23] Provinces are being
distributed. The children will look to that.* Or money. The children will look to
that. A praetorship, a consulship. Let children scramble for those, let them have
the doors closed in their face, let them suffer blows, let them kiss the hands of
the giver, and of his slaves. [24] But to me those are mere nuts and figs. But
what if, by some chance, while he is throwing them out, a fig should land in my
lap? I’ll pick it up and eat it, since one can value even a fig to that degree. But as
to stooping for it, or upsetting someone else or being upset by him, or flattering
those who have access to the palace, no fig is worth as much as that, nor any of
those other things that are not true goods, and which the philosophers have
persuaded me not to regard as such.

[25] Show me the swords of the guards. See how big they are, and how sharp. So
what do they do, these big sharp swords?—‘They kill.’ [26] —And a fever, what
does that do?—‘Nothing other than that.’—And a roof tile, what does that do?
—‘Nothing other than that.’—Do you wish, then, that I should stand in awe of
these things, and bow down before them, and dance attendance on them as
though I were a slave? Heaven forbid! [27] But once I’ve come to learn that all
that comes into being must also perish so that the universe may not come to a
standstill or be impeded, it no longer matters to me whether a fever brings that
about, or a roof tile, or an armed guard, but if a choice has to be made, I know
the guard would accomplish it in a swifter and less painful manner.

[28] Since I have no fear, then, of how a tyrant may treat me, and have no desire
for any of the things that he can procure for me, why should I admire him any
longer, why should I be in awe of him, why should I be afraid of his guards?
Why should I rejoice if he speaks kindly to me and offers me a welcome, and
why should I tell others how he spoke to me? [29] Is he Socrates, by any chance,
or Diogenes, that his praise should provide proof of what I am? [30] Have I ever
felt any urge to imitate his character? No, but to keep the game going, I come
and serve him as long as he doesn’t order me to do anything foolish or improper.
If he should say to me, ‘Go to Salamis and arrest Leon,’* I’ll reply, ‘Look for
someone else, I won’t take part in the game any longer.’ [31] —‘Take him off to
prison,’ the tyrant says of me; I follow, because that’s part of the game.—‘But
you’ll lose your head.’—And does he always keep his head, and those of you
who obey him?—‘But you’ll be thrown out unburied.’*—Yes, if the corpse is
myself, I’ll be thrown out, but if I’m something other than the corpse, you
should speak more intelligently, in accordance with the facts of the matter, and
not try to scare me. [32] Things like that are frightening only to children and
fools. But if anyone who has once entered a philosopher’s school doesn’t know
what he himself is, he deserves to fall prey to fear, and to continue to flatter
those whom he previously flattered, if it is the case that he has yet to learn that
he is neither flesh, nor bones, nor sinews, but that which makes use of these, that
which governs impressions and understands them.

[33] ‘Yes, but talk like this makes other people despise the laws.’

On the contrary, what principles are better suited to make those who follow them
remain obedient to the laws? [34] Law isn’t simply anything that lies within the
power of a fool. And yet consider how, even with regard to men like that, these
principles make us behave properly towards them, because they teach us not to
claim in opposition to them anything in which they can gain the upper hand over
us. [35] As regards our poor body, they teach us to give it up, and so, too, our
property; and when it comes to our children, parents, brothers, to renounce them
all, to let them go; our judgements mark the only exception, those judgements
which, by the will of Zeus, are each person’s own exclusive property. [36] What
violation of the law is to be found in all of this, and what offence against reason?
In the matters in which you’re superior and stronger, there I give way to you;
[37] where, by contrast, it is I who am superior, there you make way for me,
because those matters are my concern, and not yours. Your concern is how to
live in marble halls, and how your slaves and freedmen will serve you, and how
you’ll wear eye-catching clothes, and how you’ll have many hunting dogs, and
lyre-players, and tragic actors. [38] Do I lay claim to any of that? And have you,
on the other hand, ever concerned yourself with judgements? Or with your own
reason? Do you know what its constituent parts are, and how they’re
interconnected, and how it is ordered, and what capacities it has, and what their
nature is? [39] Why do you take it amiss, then, if someone else who has studied
these matters has the advantage over you in this area?

‘But these are the most important matters of all.’

And what is to prevent you from turning your attention to them, and busying
yourself with them? And who is better provided than you with books, and
leisure, and people to help you? [40] Only turn your mind at last to these
matters, and devote just a little time to your ruling centre. Consider what this is
that you possess, and where it has come from, this faculty that makes use of
everything else, and tests it out, and selects and rejects. [41] But as long as you
devote your concern to external things, you’ll own more of those than anyone
else, but you’ll have the ruling part of you just as you want it, filthy and
neglected.

4.8 To those who hastily adopt the outward appearance of

philosophers

[1] Never praise or criticize anyone for things that may be either good or bad,
nor take that as evidence of aptitude or want of aptitude, and then you’ll escape
both hasty judgement and malice. [2] ‘This man washes very quickly.’ Is he
doing anything wrong, then? Not at all. Well, what is he doing. Washing
quickly. [3] ‘So everything is done well, then?’ By no means, but what is done
as a result of correct judgements is well done, and what is done as a result of bad
judgements is badly done. But until you know what judgement a person is acting
upon in each of his actions, you should neither praise nor criticize his action. [4]
Now one cannot easily determine the nature of a judgement from outward
appearances. ‘That man is a carpenter.’ Why? ‘Because he is using an adze.’
What does that prove? ‘That man is a musician because he is singing.’ And what
does that prove? ‘That man is a philosopher.’ Why? ‘Because he is wearing a
rough cloak and has long hair.’ [5] And what is it that tramps wear? For that
reason, if someone sees one of them behaving improperly, he immediately
exclaims, ‘Look at how the philosopher is behaving!’ But he should rather have
said, on the evidence of that misbehaviour, that the man wasn’t a philosopher at
all. [6] For if it formed part of the very nature and profession of a philosopher
that he wore a rough cloak and had long hair, people would be justified in
talking like that; but if those require rather that he should keep himself free from
error, then why not refuse him that title as soon as he fails to fulfil that
requirement? [7] For that is what we do when it comes to the other arts. When
one sees someone making clumsy use of an axe, one doesn’t say, ‘What is the
use of the carpenter’s art? Look at how badly carpenters work,’ but one says
instead, ‘That man is surely no carpenter, because he is so bad at handling an
axe.’ [8] Likewise, if one hears someone singing badly, one doesn’t say, ‘Look
how musicians sing,’ but rather, ‘That man is no musician.’ [9] It is only with
regard to philosophy that people behave like this; on seeing someone behave in a
way that conflicts with the requirements of the profession, they don’t refuse him
the title of philosopher, but take it for granted that he is one, and conclude from
the fact of his misbehaviour that philosophy serves no useful purpose.

[10] What is the reason for that, then? The reason is that we respect the
conceptions that we form of a carpenter, and a musician, and likewise
practitioners of the other arts, but not that of a philosopher; and because that
conception is confused and ill-defined, we judge by external appearances alone.
[11] And what other art can one acquire by adopting some particular costume
and hairstyle, and which has no principles, subject matter, and end? [12] So what
is the subject matter of a philosopher? It isn’t a rough cloak, is it? No, but
reason. What is his end? It isn’t to wear a rough cloak, is it? No, but to reason
correctly. What are his principles? Do they really have anything to do with how
one can grow a long beard or have luxuriant hair? No, but rather as Zeno says, to
know the elements of reason, and the nature of each of them, and how they’re
adapted to one another, and what consequences flow from all of this.* [13] Why
aren’t you willing, then, to begin by examining whether a man is truly fulfilling
his profession as a philosopher if he behaves improperly, and only then cast
aspersions against his way of life? But as things are, because he seems to you to
be behaving badly while you’re acting in a decent manner, you exclaim, ‘Look
at the philosopher!’—as though it were proper to call a man who is acting in that
way a philosopher!—or again, ‘So is that what a philosopher is?’ Now you don’t
cry, ‘Look at the carpenter!’, when you know that one of them is an adulterer or
you see him eating like a pig; nor do you exclaim in like circumstances, ‘Look at
the musician!’ [14] And so you realize up to a certain point what the profession
of a philosopher is, but you slip up and get confused through lack of attention.

[15] But even those who are called philosophers pursue their calling through
means that are sometimes good and sometimes bad. No sooner have they put on
a rough cloak and let their beard grow than they proclaim, ‘I’m a philosopher!’
[16] And yet no one says, ‘I’m a musician,’ simply because he has bought a
plectrum and lyre, nor ‘I’m a blacksmith,’ because he has put on a felt cap and
an apron. No, the costume is adapted to the art, and they take their name from
their art and not from their gear. [17] For that reason Euphrates* said, ‘For a
long while I tried to conceal the fact that I was a philosopher, and this served me
well. For in the first place, I knew that whatever I did well, I did for my own
sake and not for the sake of those who were looking on. It was for myself that I
ate in a proper manner, that I maintained composure in my expression and way
of moving; all of that was for myself and God. [18] And furthermore, just as the
contest was mine alone, it was I alone who incurred the risks; if I did anything
that was shameful or improper, the cause of philosophy underwent no risk, and I
caused no harm to people at large by committing faults as a philosopher. [19]
For that reason, those who were unaware of my intention used to be surprised
that, although all whom I frequented and lived with were philosophers, I didn’t
become a philosopher myself. [20] And what harm was there in making it
recognized that I was a philosopher through what I did, rather than through the
external signs?’

See how I eat, how I drink, how I sleep, how I endure things, how I abstain from
them, how I cooperate with others, how I exercise my desires and aversions, how
I maintain my social relationships, whether natural or acquired, without
becoming confused or obstructed; and judge me by all of this, if you can. [21]
But if you’re so deaf and blind as not to be able to regard even Hephaestus
himself as a good smith unless you see him with a felt cap* on his head, what
harm is there in not being recognized by a judge as foolish as that?

[22] It was thus that Socrates passed unrecognized by the great majority of
people, and they used to come to him and ask him to introduce them* to
philosophers. [23] Did he get annoyed by this, as we would, and say, ‘What,
don’t I look like a philosopher to you?’ No, he would take them off and
introduce them, being satisfied merely to be a philosopher in actual fact, and
rejoicing to find that he wasn’t upset at not being taken for one. For he kept in
mind what his true business was. [24] And what is the business of a wise and
virtuous person? Is it to have many pupils? Not at all. Let those who take that as
their aim look to that. Is it to be able to expound difficult theories with
precision? Let others look to that too. [25] In what area, then, was he someone of
note, and wanted to be so? In the area where harm can be suffered and help
provided. ‘If anyone can harm me,’ he says, ‘I’m not achieving anything; if I’m
waiting for someone else to help me, I myself am nothing. If I want something
and it is not accomplished, then I’m miserable.’ [26] It was in this great arena
that he challenged people to engage with him, and it seems that he never yielded
to anyone in—what do you suppose?—in proclaiming and asserting, ‘I’m this
sort of man’? Heaven forbid, but in actually being that kind of man. [27] For
again, it is the part of a fool and a braggart to say, ‘I’m free from passion and
imperturbable, and don’t let it escape your notice, man, that while you’re
agitated and confused over things of no worth, I alone am immune to all
disturbance.’ [28] So it isn’t enough for you to feel no pain, unless you proclaim
in addition, ‘Come along, then, all of you who are suffering from gout, fever,
and headache, and who are lame and blind, and see how well I am and free from
every disorder!’ [29] What a display of vanity and vulgarity, unless you’re able
to show at once, like Asclepius,* how they too can be delivered from their ills,
and are adducing your own good health as proof of that.

[30] Such is the course followed by the Cynic who is adjudged worthy to
receive the sceptre and the crown* from Zeus, and says, ‘So that you may come
to see, men, that you’re seeking for happiness and calm of mind, not where
they’re to be found, but where they’re not to be found, [31] behold, I’ve been
sent to you by God as an example; I have neither possessions, nor a house, nor a
wife, nor children, nor even a bed, or a tunic, or a single piece of furniture, and
yet see how healthy I am. Test me out, and you’ll see that I have an undisturbed
mind; hear what remedies and treatments have worked this cure on me.’ [32]
Now, that is true benevolence and noble-mindedness! But see whose work it is:
it is the work of Zeus, or of one whom Zeus judges worthy to perform this
service, such that he may never manifest anything to the crowd that would
undermine the witness that he offers in favour of virtue and against external
things.

Never did pallor descend on his fair features,

Never did he wipe a tear from his cheeks.*

[33] Not only that, but he must neither yearn nor seek for anything, whether
person, or place, or way of life, in the way that children do for the harvest time
or the holidays, and he must surround and adorn himself on every side with self-
respect, as others are protected by walls, and doors, and door-keepers.

[34] But as it is, no sooner do people feel drawn towards philosophy, as

dyspeptics are towards food that they’ll soon come to loathe, than they at once
lay claim to the sceptre and the kingdom. Such a man lets his hair grow long,
puts on a rough cloak, bares his shoulder, and quarrels with everyone he meets;
and if he sees anyone with a thick warm cloak, he at once picks a quarrel with
him. [35] First of all, man, you must undertake hard winter training;* examine
your impulses, and see whether they aren’t those of a dyspeptic, of a woman
seized with cravings during her pregnancy. Take care at first that you’re not
recognized for what you are; [36] practise philosophy for yourself alone for a
short period. For this is the way in which fruit is produced; the seed must be
buried for a time, and lie hidden, and grow little by little to come to maturity; but
if it produces the ear before the stalk is properly jointed, it will never ripen, like
those produced in gardens of Adonis.* [37] Now you too are a plant of this kind:
you’ve bloomed before your time, and the winter will wither you. [38] See what
the farmers say about seeds when the summer heat arrives before the proper
season. They’re worried that the seeds will shoot up too luxuriantly, and that a
single frost will be enough to take them and expose their weakness. You should
watch out too, man; [39] you’ve developed with impetuous haste, you’ve sprung
forward to seize a scrap of glory before the proper season. You fancy that you’re
somebody, while being a fool among fools. You’ll be taken by the frost, or
rather, you already have been taken by the frost down at the root,* while up
above you’re still carrying a few flowers, and imagine for that reason that you’re
still alive and flourishing. [40] Allow us for our part at least to ripen as nature
requires. Why do you expose us to the elements, why do you force us? We’re
not ready as yet to face up to the open air. Allow the root to grow, allow it next
to bring forth its first joint, and then the second, and then the third; and in this
way, the fruit will naturally force its way out, whether I wish it or not. [41] For
who that has conceived and become pregnant with such great thoughts fails to
become aware of his own resources, and to hurry on to act in accordance with
them? [42] Why, a bull* doesn’t fail to recognize the nature of his resources
when a wild beast comes along, and he doesn’t wait for someone to spur him on;
nor does a dog that catches sight of a wild animal. [43] And if I for my part
possess the resources of a good man, shall I wait for you to come and equip me
for my own proper work? But as yet, I don’t have these resources; take my word
for it. Why, then, would you have me wither before my time, as you yourself
have withered?

4.9 To one who had become shameless

[1] Whenever you see another person exercising authority in a public post, set
against that the fact that you can do without a public post; when you see another
person living in wealth, look to what you have instead of that. [2] For if you
have nothing in place of it, you’re wretched indeed; but if you’re capable of not
having need of wealth, know that you have more than he does, and something of
much greater value. [3] Another man has a beautiful wife; you have the power
not to wish for a beautiful wife. Do you think these are small matters? And yet
how much would those very men who are rich and powerful, and have beautiful
wives, give to be able to despise riches and power, and those women whom they
love and win? [4] Don’t you know what kind of thirst one feels when one has a
fever? It bears no resemblance to that of a healthy person. A healthy person
takes a drink and his thirst is quenched, but the other, after some short relief,
feels sick, turns the water into bile, vomits, suffers from colic, and feels much
thirstier than before. [5] It is much the same to have wealth and yet feel a strong
desire for that very thing, or have power and yet desire it, or pass one’s nights
with a beautiful woman and yet lust for her. To which may be added jealousy,
and the fear of losing what one has, and shameful words, shameful thoughts, and
improper deeds.

[6] ‘And what do I lose?’, someone asks.

Man, you used to be modest and now you’re no longer so. Have you lost
nothing? Instead of Chrysippus and Zeno, you now read Aristides and Evenus.*
Instead of Socrates and Diogenes, you admire the man who is able to corrupt and
seduce the largest number of women. [7] You want to be good-looking and make
yourself so, although you’re not, and want to display yourself in flashy clothing
to attract women’s attention, and if you come across some wretched perfume
somewhere, you count yourself blessed. [8] But formerly you didn’t even think
about any of these things, but only about where you could find decent talk, a
man of worth, a noble thought. As a consequence, you used to sleep like a man,
bear yourself like a man, wear manly clothing, and speak in a manner
appropriate to a good man. And then you say to me, ‘I’ve lost nothing’? [9]
What, is a bit of cash the only thing that a man can lose? Can’t self-respect be
lost; can’t decency be lost? [10] For your part, perhaps, you no longer think that
the loss of such things brings any penalty; but there was a time when you
thought this to be the only loss and harm that really matters, and you were most
anxious that no one should force you to abandon these principles and practices.

[11] Look, you have indeed been driven away from them, but by no one other
than yourself. Fight against yourself; restore yourself to decency, to self-respect,
to freedom. [12] If someone had once told you this about me, that someone was
forcing me to commit adultery, to wear clothes like yours, or perfume myself,
wouldn’t you have gone off and killed with your own hand the man who was
subjecting me to such mistreatment? [13] And yet now, you don’t want to come
to your own assistance? And how much easier it is to offer assistance of that
kind! There is no need for you to kill someone, or chain him up, or assault him,
nor do you have to go to the marketplace; you have only to talk to yourself, the
man most likely to be persuaded, and whom no one could more easily persuade
than you can. [14] First of all, condemn your own actions, and then, after having
condemned them, don’t give up on yourself, and don’t be like those mean-
spirited people who, when they’ve given in on one occasion, surrender
themselves completely, to be swept off, as it were, by the flood. [15] You should
learn instead from what the wrestling masters do. The boy has taken a fall: ‘Get
up,’ he says, ‘and resume the fight until you grow strong.’ [16] You too should
think in some such way as that: you should know that there is nothing more
tractable than the human mind. You only have to exert your will, and the thing
comes about, and all is put right; whereas on the other hand, you only have to
doze off, and all is lost. For ruin and deliverance alike come from within.

[17] ‘And after all that, what good will I gain?’

And what greater good could you seek than this? Where once you were
shameless, you’ll have self-respect; where once you were faithless, you’ll
become faithful; where once you were dissolute, you’ll have self-control. [18] If
you’re looking for anything other than things such as that, continue to act as
you’re now acting; for not even a god could still be able to help you.

4.10 What should we despise and what should we especially value?

[1] It is with regard to external things that all people fall into difficulty, fall into
bewilderment. ‘What shall I do? How will it be? How will it turn out? I only
hope this, or that, doesn’t happen to me.’ [2] All of these are expressions of
people who are preoccupied with things that lie outside the sphere of choice. For
who says, ‘How can I avoid giving my assent to what is false? Or how can I
avoid refusing to accept what is true?’ [3] If anyone is so gifted by nature as to
be troubled by such anxieties, I’ll remind him of this: ‘Why so anxious? This is
within your power. Rest secure. Don’t hasten to give your assent before
applying the rule of conformity with nature.’ [4] Again, if someone is worried
about his desires, feeling that they may fail to achieve their end and miss their
mark, or about his aversions, feeling that he may fall into what he wants to
avoid, [5] I’ll begin by giving him a kiss to congratulate him for having put
aside the things that other people get exercised about, and their fears, to
concentrate on his own business in the area where his true self lies. [6] And then
I’ll say to him, ‘If you want your desires always to hit their mark, and want
never to fall into what you want to avoid, never desire anything that is not your
own, and never seek to avoid anything that is not within your power. Otherwise
you’re bound to fail in your desires, and bound to fall into what you want to
avoid.’ [7] What is difficult in that? What room is left for the questions ‘How
will it be?’ and ‘How will it turn out?’ and ‘I only hope that this or that doesn’t
happen to me.’

[8] Now doesn’t the future lie outside the sphere of choice?—‘Yes.’—And
doesn’t the nature of the good and the bad lie within the sphere of choice?—‘Yes
indeed.’—So whatever may happen, isn’t it possible for you to make use of it in
accordance with nature? Can anyone prevent you from doing so?—‘No one can.’
[9] —Then say no longer to me, ‘How will it come about?’, because whatever
comes about, you’ll be able to put it to good use, and the outcome will be
fortunate for you. [10] What would Heracles* have been if he had said, ‘How
can I prevent a huge lion from coming my way, or a huge boar, or a savage
man?’ If a huge boar comes along, the contest that you engage in will be all the
greater; if wicked men come along, you’ll rid the world of wicked men.

[11] ‘But what if I should die in doing so?’

You’ll die as a good person, accomplishing a noble deed. Since you’re bound to
die in any case, you’ll necessarily be caught doing something or other, whether
working your farm, or digging, or suffering from indigestion or diarrhoea. [12]
So what would you wish to be doing when death overtakes you? For my part I’d
like to be carrying out some deed worthy of a human being, something
beneficent, something that serves the common good, something noble. [13] But
if I can’t be caught doing anything as fine as that, I should like at least to be
doing something that I can’t be hindered from doing, something that is granted
to me to accomplish, namely, putting myself right, striving to perfect the faculty
that deals with impressions, and labouring to achieve peace of mind, while yet
fulfilling my social duties, and if I should be so fortunate, pressing on the third
area of study,* the one that is concerned with the attainment of security in one’s
judgements.

[14] If death overtakes me when I’m engaged in activities such as those, it is

enough for me if I can raise up my hands towards God* and say, ‘The faculties
that I’ve received from you to enable me to understand your governing order and
to follow it, I have in no way neglected; for my part, I haven’t dishonoured you.
[15] See how I’ve made use of my senses; see how I’ve made use of my
preconceptions. Have I ever reproached you, have I ever shown discontent with
anything that came about, or wished it otherwise? Have I ever violated any of
my social relationships? [16] I’m grateful to you for having brought me into the
world; I’m grateful, too, for the gifts that I’ve received from you; the length of
time for which I’ve enjoyed the use of them is enough for me. Take them back
again and assign me to whatever place you wish; they are yours one and all, and
it is you who granted them to me.’ [17] Isn’t it enough to make one’s departure
from the world in such a state of mind? And what life could be better or more
befitting than that of someone who thinks like this, and what end could be
happier?

[18] But for this to be accomplished, one must accept difficulties of no small
kind, and make sacrifices of no small kind. You cannot wish for a consulship
and at the same time follow this path; you cannot set your heart on acquiring
quantities of land and follow this path; you cannot worry about your poor slaves
and yourself too. [19] No, but if you wish for anything that is not your own,
what is really your own will be lost. This is the nature of the matter, that nothing
can be gained without cost. [20] And what is surprising in that? If you want to be
consul, you must stay up at night, rush this way and that, kiss men’s hands, rot
away at other men’s doors, say and do much that isn’t suitable for a free man,
send presents to many people, and gifts of hospitality to some people every day.
And what is the result of all of this? [21] Twelve bundles of rods, to sit three or
four times on the tribunal, to give games in the Circus, and distribute lunches in
little baskets.* If there is anything more in it than that, let someone show me!
[22] Well then, to achieve freedom from passion, and freedom from disturbance,
and to sleep soundly when you sleep, and to be fully awake when you’re awake,
to be afraid of nothing, and anxious about nothing, are you unwilling to make
any sacrifice or any effort? [23] But if you come to lose anything while you’re
engaged in this enterprise, or have to incur any expense to no purpose, or if
someone else should get what you ought to have got, will you immediately
become upset at what has happened? [24] Won’t you balance what you have
given against what you’re receiving, and consider how much you’ve gained in
return for how much? Do you really expect to get things of such value for
nothing? How is that possible? ‘One form of business and another.’* [25] You
can’t devote your attention both to acquiring external things and, at the same
time, to your own ruling centre. [26] If you want the latter, you’ll have to give
up the former, or else you’ll get neither the one nor the other, because you’ll be
pulled in two directions. So if you want the one, you’ll have to give up the other.
My oil will be spilled, my poor furniture lost, but I’ll have peace of mind. While
I’m away a fire will break out, and my books will be destroyed, but I’ll deal with
my impressions in accordance with nature.

‘But I’ll have nothing to eat.’ [27] If I’m in such a bad plight, death is my
harbour. And that is the harbour where everyone ends up; that is our refuge. As a
consequence, nothing that happens to us in life is truly difficult. You can leave
the house whenever you want and no longer be troubled by the smoke. [28] Why
are you so anxious, then; why do you stay awake at night? Why don’t you
reckon up forthwith where your good and evil lie, and say, ‘The one and the
other lie within my power; no one can deprive me of the former, and no one can
embroil me in the latter against my will. [29] So why don’t I sit down and snore?
All that is my own is safe. As for what is not my own, that will be the concern of
whoever gets hold of it, as it is granted to him by the one who has mastery over
it. [30] Who am I to wish that it should be this way or that? For that choice
hasn’t been granted to me, has it? I’m satisfied with those things that are under
my own authority. I must make the best use of them that I can, and as for other
things, let them be as their master pleases.’

[31] Does anyone who keeps these principles before his eyes lie awake at night,
and ‘toss from side to side’? What does he wish for, what does he yearn for? For
Patroclus, or Antilochus, or Protesilaus?* For when did he imagine that any of
his friends would be immortal? And when wasn’t he able to see quite clearly that
tomorrow or the day after he or his friend would be bound to die?*

[32] ‘Yes,’ the man says, ‘but I thought that he would survive me and bring up
my son.’

Because you were a fool and you were reckoning on things that are uncertain.
Why not blame yourself, then, rather than sit and cry like a little girl.

[33] ‘Yes, but he used to set out my food for me.’

Because he was alive, you fool, but now he isn’t. But Automedon* will see to
your needs, and if he too should come to die, you’ll find someone else. [34] If
the pot in which your meal was cooked should happen to get broken, would you
have to die of hunger because you no longer had your usual pot? Wouldn’t you
send someone out to buy a new one? ‘No,’ he says, [35] ‘because no greater ill
could could ever befall me.’* Is that what you call an evil, then? And instead of
getting rid of it, will you blame your master for not having warned you, so that
from that time forth you might never stop grieving? [36] What do you think?
Didn’t Homer write these verses for the very purpose of showing you that when
the noblest, the most perfect, the wealthiest, and the most handsome men don’t
hold correct judgements, there is nothing to prevent them from being miserable
and utterly wretched?
 4.11 On cleanliness

[1] There are some people who question whether social feeling forms part of
human nature, and yet even these people wouldn’t dispute, I think, that love of
cleanliness undoubtedly forms part of it, and that it is by this, if anything, that
man is distinguished from the other animals. [2] So when we see some other
animal cleaning itself, we’re accustomed to exclaim in surprise, ‘Why, it’s just
like a human being!’ And again, if someone finds fault with an animal for being
dirty, we’re inclined to say at once, by way of excuse, ‘But after all, it isn’t
human.’ [3] We thus regard cleanliness as a distinctive human quality, which we
first received from the gods. Since the gods are by nature pure and undefiled, the
closer human beings draw to them through reason, the more they feel attracted
to purity and cleanliness. [4] But since it is impossible for human nature to be
altogether pure, being compounded of such material as it is, the reason that it has
received as part of its share strives to render it as clean as possible.

[5] The first and highest purity, then, and impurity likewise, is that which is
manifested in the mind. But you wouldn’t find the impurity of the mind to be the
same as that of the body, and when it comes to the mind, what other uncleanness
could you find in it than that which soils it with regard to the execution of its
own functions? [6] Now the functions of the mind are motivation to act or not to
act, desire or aversion, preparation, design, and assent.* [7] What is it, then, that
renders the mind dirty and impure with regard to the performance of these
actions? Nothing other than its own bad judgements. [8] So the impurity of the
mind consists accordingly of bad judgements, and its purification consists in the
creation within it of the judgements that it ought to have. A pure mind is thus
one that makes right judgements, for that kind of mind alone can escape
confusion and pollution in its acts.

[9] We should endeavour as far as possible to achieve something similar with

regard to the body too. It is impossible that there should not be some flow of
mucus from a human being, since he is constituted in the way that he is. For that
reason, nature has created hands, and has made our nostrils themselves like tubes
to carry away the fluids. So if anyone sniffs them up again, I say that he isn’t
acting as is appropriate for a human being. [10] It was impossible that our feet
should not get muddy, or dirty at all, when we pass through filth of that kind;
nature has thus provided us with water and with hands. [11] It was impossible
that some dirt should not get left behind on our teeth when we’ve eaten; and so
nature says to us, ‘Clean your teeth.’ Why? So that you may be a human being,
and not a wild beast or a pig. [12] It was impossible that through our sweat and
the rubbing of our clothes, some uncleanness should not be left behind on our
body and need to be cleaned off; for this reason, we have water, oil, hands, a
towel, a scraper, and everything else that is used for cleaning the body. [13] Not
in your case? But a smith will remove the rust from his iron, and has tools made
for that purpose, and you yourself will wash your plate before you eat, unless
you’re irredeemably dirty and unclean; and yet when it comes to your poor body,
you don’t want to wash it and make it clean?

‘Why should I?’, the man says.

[14] I’ll tell you again: in the first place, to act as is appropriate for a human
being, and secondly, so as not to disgust those whom you meet. [15] You’re
doing something of that kind even here, without realizing it. You think that you
have the right to give out a bad smell. Very well, you may have it. But do you
think that those who sit by you, or recline by you at table, should have it too, and
those who kiss you? [16] Oh, go off into the desert somewhere, as you deserve,
and live there alone, taking pleasure in your own odours. But living in a city as
you do, what sort of a person do you think you’re showing yourself to be, to
behave in such a thoughtless and inconsiderate manner? [17] If nature had
entrusted a horse to your care, would you have neglected it and failed to look
after it? Well then, think of your own body as a horse that has been entrusted to
you; wash it, wipe it, make it such that no one will turn away from you, no one
will seek to avoid you. [18] And who doesn’t want to avoid a man who is dirty,
who smells, and whose skin looks even worse in colour than someone who has
been spattered with dung? In the latter case, the smell rises merely from the
outside and is accidental, but in the other, it arises from neglect, and thus comes
from within, as though from some form of putrefaction.

[19] ‘But Socrates rarely took a bath.’*

And yet his body looked radiant. Why, it was so attractive and pleasing that the
most handsome and high-born men were greatly taken with him, and preferred to
sit beside him rather than by those who had the finest features.* He might never
have bathed or washed, if he had so pleased, but the rare baths that he did take
had their effect.

[20] ‘But Aristophanes says, “I speak of pallid men who go barefoot.”’

Yes, and he also says that Socrates ‘trod the air’ and stole people’s clothes at the
wrestling school.* [21] And yet all who have written about Socrates say
precisely the opposite, attesting that he was pleasant not only to listen to, but
also to look at. The same is written about Diogenes, too. [22] For even by our
outward appearance, we shouldn’t do anything to frighten people away from
philosophy, but should show ourselves to be appealing and untroubled with
regard to our body, too, as in everything else. [23] ‘See, people, that I have
nothing and have need of nothing. See how, although I have no house, and no
city, and am an exile, if it so happen, and have no hearth, I live a happier and
more untroubled life than all the high-born and wealthy; and you can see that
even my poor body comes to no harm as a result of my hard way of life.’ [24]
But if someone were to say that to me when he had the appearance and
expression of a condemned man, what god could ever persuade me to have
anything to do with philosophy, if it is indeed that kind of person that it
produces? Perish the thought! I wouldn’t want to, even if I should become a wise
man as a consequence.

[25] I’d prefer for my part, by the gods, that a young man who is just beginning
to feel drawn towards philosophy should come to me with well-dressed hair,
rather than having it dishevelled and dirty. For one could then detect some
notion of beauty in him, and a desire for elegance;* and where he supposes it to
lie, there he cultivates it. [26] And then all that one needs to do is to show him
where it does lie, saying, ‘Young man, you’re seeking the beautiful, and rightly
so. Know, then, that it grows up in that part of you where you have your reason.
It is there that you should seek it, where you have your motives to act and not to
act, where you have your desires and aversions. [27] For that is what you have in
you that is of an exceptional nature, while your poor body is by nature nothing
more than clay. Why trouble yourself about it to no purpose? If you learn
nothing else, time will at least teach you that it is nothing.’ [28] But if this young
man should come to me befouled and dirty, with moustaches down to his knees,
what can I say to him, what point of resemblance can I start from to draw him
on? For what has he ever concerned himself with that has anything to do with
beauty, [29] so that I might be able to change his point of view by saying,
‘Beauty doesn’t lie there, but here’? Would you have me say to him, ‘Beauty
doesn’t lie in being befouled, but in reason’? For does he in fact feel any desire
for reason? Has he any notion of it? Go and persuade a pig that it oughtn’t to roll
around in the mud. [30] That was why the discourses of Xenocrates could grip
the mind even of a Polemo, because he was a young man who had a love for
beauty; he had come to Xenocrates with the first glimmerings of an aspiration
toward the beautiful, but he was looking for it in the wrong place.*

[31] Besides, nature hasn’t made dirty even the animals that live with human
beings. Does a horse roll around in the mud, or even a well-bred dog? No, but
pigs do, and filthy geese, and worms, and spiders, the creatures that are banished
the furthest from human company. [32] So don’t you, who are a man, want even
to be like one of those animals that live in the company of man, preferring to be
a worm or spider instead? Will you never take a bath, in whatever way you like;
won’t you wash yourself in cold water if you don’t care to use hot water? Won’t
you be clean when you come here, so that those who associate with you may
enjoy your company? What, would you accompany us even into the temples in
such a state, where it is forbidden to spit or blow your nose, you who are nothing
but spittle and rheum.

[33] What then, is anyone asking you to beautify yourself? Heaven forbid,
except in that which constitutes our true nature, in our reason and in its
judgements and activities; but as regards our body, only so far as to keep it
clean, only so far as not to cause offence to other people. [34] But if you hear
that one shouldn’t wear purple robes, you have to go off and smear your cloak
with dung or rip it apart.

‘But how can one have a fine cloak?’

Man, you have water: wash it. [35] Look, here is a lovable young man, here is an
old man worthy to love and be loved in return, to whom a man will entrust the
education of his son, to whom daughters and young men will come perhaps, so
that he may deliver his lessons from a dung-hill! [36] Every eccentricity springs
from something in human nature, but this comes close to being not human at all.

4.12 On attention

[1] When you relax your attention for a short while, don’t imagine that you’ll be
able to recover it whenever you please, but bear this in mind, that because of the
error that you’ve committed today, your affairs will necessarily proceed far
worse in every respect. [2] For to begin with, and most seriously of all, a habit of
inattention will grow up in you, and then a habit of deferring any effort to pay
attention. So you should be aware that you’ll be constantly putting off to an even
later time a happy and appropriate way of life, a life that is in accord with nature
and will remain so. [3] Now, if it brings any advantage to put things off, it will
bring even greater advantage to give them up entirely; but if it brings no
advantage, why don’t you maintain your attention consistently? ‘Today I’d like
to play.’ [4] Well, what is to prevent you from doing so attentively? For is there
any area of life to which our attention should not be extended? Will you do
anything worse, then, by paying attention, or better by not attending? And is
there anything whatever in life [5] that is done better by those who remain
inattentive? Does an inattentive carpenter carry out his work with greater
precision? Does an inattentive helmsman steer his vessel more safely? And is
any function of lesser importance accomplished better through inattention? [6]
Don’t you realize that when you’ve let your mind roam free, it is no longer in
your power to call it back, either to decorum, or to self-respect, or to good
order? But instead you do everything that comes into your head; you follow your
impulses.

[7] ‘To what things should I pay attention, then?’

In the first place to those general principles that you should always have at hand,
so as not to go to sleep, or get up, or drink or eat, or converse with others,
without them, namely, that no one is master over another person’s choice, and
that it is in choice alone that our good and evil lie. [8] No one has the power,
then, either to procure any good for me or to involve me in any evil, but I alone
have authority over myself in these matters. [9] So accordingly, when I’m secure
with regard to those, what reason do I have to be troubled by external things?
What tyrant can strike fear into me, what kind of disease, what poverty, what
obstacle?—‘But I haven’t pleased So-and-so.’ [10] —Is he an action of mine,
then; is he a judgement of mine?—‘No.’—Then why should I trouble myself any
longer?—‘But he passes for being a man of some importance.’—Let him look to
that, and those who think him so, [11] but I for my part have someone whom I
must please, whom I must submit to, whom I must obey, namely, God, and after
him, myself. [12] He has commended me to myself, and has brought it about that
my choice should be subject to myself alone, giving me rules for the right use of
it; and when I follow those rules with due care, I pay no heed to anyone who
says anything different, I give no thought to anyone who makes use of equivocal
arguments. [13] Why do I get annoyed, then, with those who criticize me in the
most important matters? Why should I be troubled in that way? For no other
reason than the fact that I lack training in that area. [14] For, in truth, knowledge
always despises ignorance and the ignorant, and this applies not only to the
sciences but also to the arts and crafts. Take any shoemaker you please, and he
holds the mass of people in contempt with regard to his own work; and take any
carpenter, too.

[15] It is necessary first of all, then, to keep these principles at hand, and to do
nothing without them, but keep our mind directed to this end, that we should
pursue nothing external, and nothing that is not our own, but rather, as he who is
all-powerful has ordained, pursue without reservation such things as lie within
the sphere of choice, and all the rest only in so far as it is granted to us. [16] And
next, we must remember who we are, and what name we bear, and strive to
direct our appropriate actions according to the demands of our social
relationships, [17] remembering what is the proper time to sing, the proper time
to play, and in whose company, and what will be out of place, and how we may
make sure that our companions don’t despise us, and that we don’t despise
ourselves; when we should joke, and whom we should laugh at, and to what end
we should associate with others, and with whom, and finally, how we should
preserve our proper character when doing so. Whenever you deviate from any of
these rules, you suffer the penalty at once, [18] not from anything that comes
from outside, but from the very action itself.

[19] What, is it possible thenceforth to be entirely free from fault? No, that is
beyond us; but this at least is possible: to strive without cease to avoid
committing any fault. For we must be contented if, by never relaxing our
attention, we manage to escape a small number of faults. [20] But now, when
you say, ‘From tomorrow I’ll pay attention,’ be clear that what you’re really
saying is, ‘Today I’ll be shameless, importunate, and mean-spirited; it will lie
within the power of others to cause me distress; I’ll lose my temper today; I’ll
fall prey to envy.’ [21] See how many evils you’re bringing down on yourself.
But if it would be good for you to pay attention tomorrow, how much better it
would be to do so today, so that you may be able to achieve the same tomorrow
also, and not put it off once again until the following day.

4.13 To those who talk too readily about their personal affairs

[1] When someone seems to have talked frankly to us about his personal affairs,
we are somehow impelled to reveal our own secrets to him in turn, and we
regard that as being frankness. [2] This comes about partly because, after
hearing our neighbour’s confidences, it seems unfair not to reply in kind by
giving him a share of our own; and also because we think that we won’t give
such people the impression of being frank if we keep quiet about our personal
affairs. [3] People are indeed often accustomed to say, ‘Now that I’ve told you
all about my affairs, will you tell me nothing about your own? How is that?’ [4]
A further point is that we think that we can safely place trust in somebody who
has already told us his own secrets, because the thought comes to us that he
would never divulge our secrets for fear that we would respond by divulging his.
[5] It is in this way that soldiers at Rome catch out incautious people. A soldier
sits down beside you in civilian dress and begins to speak ill of Caesar; and then
you in turn, as if you’d received a pledge of his good faith because he was the
one who had initiated the abuse, begin to give voice, too, to what you think, and
then you’re arrested and put in chains. [6] We experience something similar in
everyday life. For even though this man has safely entrusted his secrets to me, I
for my part don’t entrust mine to anyone who comes along; [7] no, I listen and
keep silent, if I’m that kind of person, but he goes out and tells everyone what he
has heard. And then, when I come to learn what has happened, I too, if I’m
actually like him, tell everyone his secrets out of a desire for revenge, and so I
besmirch and am besmirched. [8] If I bear in mind, however, that one person
cannot harm another, but it is each person’s own actions that bring harm or
benefit to him, I achieve this much at least, that I don’t act in the same way as he
has done, but I nevertheless suffer what I must as a result of my own foolish
talk.*

[9] ‘Yes, but after hearing your neighbour’s secrets, it is unfair not to give him a
share of your own in return.’

[10] Did I invite your confidences, man? Did you tell me about your affairs on
condition that you should hear about mine in return? [11] If you’re a chatterbox
and take anyone whom you meet to be a friend, do you wish that I too should
come to be like you? Why then, if you did well to entrust your confidences to me
but it wouldn’t be good for me to trust you, do you want me to be so rash as to
do so? [12] It is just as if I had a water-tight barrel and you had one with a hole
in it, and you came and entrusted your wine to me, for me to store it in my
barrel, and you then complained that I for my part didn’t entrust my wine to you!
No indeed, because your barrel has a hole in it. [13] So how could things still be
on an equal basis? You’ve entrusted your confidences to one who is trustworthy,
one who has self-respect, one who regards his own actions as being either
harmful or beneficial, and nothing that is external as being so. [14] And would
you have me entrust my confidences to you, to someone who has dishonoured
his own faculty of choice, and wants to gain a bit of cash, or some post or other,
or advancement at court, even if that means murdering his own children, as
Medea* did? [15] Where is the equality in that? But show me that you’re
trustworthy, honourable, reliable; show me that your judgements are full of
benevolence, show me that your barrel isn’t leaky, and then you’ll see how,
instead of waiting for you to make confidences to me, I myself will invite you to
listen to mine. [16] For who wouldn’t want to make use of a sound barrel; who
wouldn’t respect a benevolent and trustworthy adviser; who wouldn’t gladly
welcome someone who is ready to share his difficulties, as if sharing a load, and
by doing so lighten them for him?

[17] ‘Yes, but I trust you, and you don’t trust me.’

In the first place, you don’t trust me either, but you’re simply a chatterbox, and
for that reason, you can’t keep anything back. For if it is true that you trust me,
entrust your confidences to me alone. [18] But the fact is that as soon as you see
anyone who is at leisure, you sit down beside him and say, ‘Brother, there is no
one who is better disposed to me and dearer to me than you; do please listen to
my confidences,’ and you do that with people who are complete strangers to
you. [19] But even if you do trust me, it is plainly because you think me to be
someone who is trustworthy and honourable, and not because I’ve spoken to you
about my own affairs. [20] Permit me, then, to reach the same judgement about
you. Show that if someone tells someone else about his own affairs, it follows
that he is trustworthy and honourable. For if that were so, I would go around
telling everybody about my affairs, if that would make me trustworthy and
honourable! But that isn’t the case; to be so one needs to have judgements that
are of no commonplace character. [21] If you see someone, then, who devotes
every concern to things that lie outside the sphere of choice, and subordinates his
own choice to them, you may be sure that this person has thousands of people
who constrain and obstruct him. [22] There is no need to resort to pitch or the
wheel* to make him declare what he knows, but the slightest nod from a pretty
girl, if it should so happen, will be enough to shake him, as will a friendly
gesture from someone at Caesar’s court, or desire for a public post, or an
inheritance, or countless other things of that kind. [23] So you must remember
that, as a general rule, confidences require trustworthiness and corresponding
judgements; [24] and where can these be easily found nowadays? Or let
someone show me somebody who is of such a mind that he can say, ‘I concern
myself only with what is my own, with what is immune to hindrance, with what
is by nature free. Such is the nature of the good that I possess; as for all the rest,
may it come about as God may grant: it makes no difference to me.’
 FRAGMENTS

1. What does it matter to me, says Epictetus, whether everything is made up of

atoms, or of indivisible parts, or of fire and earth? Isn’t it enough to know the
true nature of good and bad, and the proper bounds of our desires and aversions,
and also of our motives to act or not to act, and to make use of these as rules to
order the conduct of our life, and renounce those things that are beyond us? It
may well be that the latter are incomprehensible to the human mind, but even if
one should assume that they’re fully comprehensible, what advantage would it
bring to understand them? Shouldn’t we say that those who assign that as being
necessary to the philosopher’s enquiry are giving themselves pointless trouble?
Is the Delphic admonition also superfluous, then, ‘Know yourself’?—‘No, it
isn’t,’ he replies.—So what does it mean? If one told a chorus singer to know
himself, wouldn’t he respond to that instruction by paying attention to the other
singers in the chorus so as to sing in harmony with them?—‘Yes.’—And
likewise with a sailor? Or a soldier? Do you suppose, then, that man is a creature
who has been made to live all alone, or for society?—‘For society.’—By whom?
—‘By nature.’—As to what nature is, and how it administers the universe, and
whether or not it really exists, these are matters that we need not bother about
any further now.

2. He who is discontented with what he has, and with what has been granted to
him by fortune, is one who is ignorant of the art of living, but he who bears that
in a noble spirit, and makes reasonable use of all that comes from it, deserves to
be regarded as a good man.

3. All things obey and serve the universe, both earth, and sea, and sun, and all
the other stars, and the plants and animals of the earth; and our body, too, obeys
it, both in sickness and in health, as the universe wills, and both in our younger
years and in old age, and as it passes through every other change. It is thus
reasonable, too, that what lies within our own power, namely, the decision of our
will, shouldn’t be the only thing that sets itself in opposition to it; for the
universe is mighty and superior to us, and has taken better counsel on our behalf
than we can, by embracing us, too, in its governing order in conjunction with the
whole. And besides, to act against it is to align ourselves with unreason, and
while bringing nothing but a futile struggle, it involves us in pains and miseries.

4. Of existing things, God has placed some within our power, and others not
within our power. Within our power he has placed the most important thing, that
through which he himself is happy, the power to deal with impressions. For
when that capacity is rightly exercised, there is freedom, serenity, cheerfulness,
constancy, and there is justice, too, and law, and self-control, and virtue in its
entirety. But as to everything else, God hasn’t placed that within our power. It is
thus necessary that we, too, should be of one mind with God, and by drawing
this distinction, we should seek to obtain by every means those things that lie
within our power, but entrust those that don’t lie within our power to the
universe, and if it should have need of our children, our country, our body, or
anything whatever, be glad to yield it up.

5. Who among us doesn’t admire the saying of Lycurgus* the Spartan? For
when he had been blinded in one eye by one of his fellow citizens, and the
young man was handed over to him by the people for him to exact whatever
vengeance he might wish, he refrained from doing so, but gave him a proper
education instead, made a good man of him, and presented him in the theatre;
and when the Spartans showed surprise, he said, ‘When I received him from
you, this man was offensive and violent, and I’m returning him to you as
someone who is well behaved and public-spirited.’

6. But this above all is the work of nature, to bind together and harmonize our
motives with what we conceive to be fitting and beneficial.

7. To suppose that we’ll be viewed with disdain by others if we don’t resort to

every means to injure the first enemies we encounter is the mark of thoroughly
ignoble and foolish people; for we generally say that someone can be recognized
as contemptible by, among other things, his incapacity to do harm, whereas it is
much more by his incapacity to do good.

8. Such was, and is, and will be the nature of the universe, and it isn’t possible
that things should come into being in any other way than they do at present; and
not only have human beings participated in the process of change and
transformation along with all the other creatures that live on the earth, but also
those beings that are divine, and, by Zeus, even the four elements, which are
changed and transformed upwards and downwards, as earth becomes water, and
water air, and air is transformed in turn into ether. If someone endeavours to turn
his mind towards these things, and to persuade himself to accept of his own free
will what must necessarily come about, he will live a very balanced and
harmonious life.

9. An eminent philosopher of the Stoic school … drew out of his little bag the
fifth book of the Discourses of the philosopher Epictetus, which have been
edited by Arrian, and are doubtless in agreement with the writings of Zeno and
Chrysippus. In that book, which is of course written in Greek, we find this
sentence: ‘The visions of the mind (which the philosophers call phantasiai), by
which the human mind at the very first sight of anything is impelled to the
perception of that thing, are subject neither to his will nor to his control, but
through a certain power of their own, force themselves on people’s awareness;
but acts of assent (which they call sunkatatheseis), by which these visions are
recognized, are subject to the human will and under its control. So when some
terrifying sound comes from the sky or from a falling building, or news of some
danger is suddenly announced, or something else of that kind occurs, even the
mind of a wise person is bound to be disturbed, and to shrink back and grow
pale for a moment, not from any idea that something bad is going to happen, but
because of certain swift and unconsidered movements which forestall the proper
functioning of the mind and reason. Before long, however, this wise person of
ours refuses to give his assent to tas toiautas phantasias (that is to say, these
terrifying visions of the mind), but rejects and spurns them, and sees nothing in
them that ought to inspire him with fear. And that is the difference, they say,
between the mind of a wise person and that of a fool, that the fool thinks that the
things that initially strike the mind as harsh and terrible really are such, and then,
as if they are truly to be feared, goes on to approve them by his own assent, kai
prosepidoxazei (the expression that the Stoics use when discussing this topic);
whereas one who is wise, after being briefly and superficially affected in his
colour and expression, ou sunkatatithetai [does not give his assent], but retains
the consistency and firmness of the opinion that he has always had about mental
visions of this kind, namely, that such things are in no way to be feared, but
arouse terror only through false appearances and empty alarms. This is what the
philosopher Epictetus thinks and says, in accordance with the doctrines of the
Stoics, as I read in the book mentioned above.

10. I have heard Favorinus say that the philosopher Epictetus declared that most
of those who gave the appearance of practising philosophy were philosophers of
this kind, aneu tou prattein, mechri tou legein (that is to say, ‘without deeds,
only so far as words’). There was an even stronger expression that he was in the
habit of using, as Arrian has recorded in the books that he wrote about his
discourses. For when, so Arrian says, Epictetus noticed a man who had lost all
sense of shame, and had misdirected his energies, and was corrupt in his morals,
bold and impudent in his speech, and devoted attention to everything other than
his own soul—when he saw a man of that kind, says Arrian, also embarking on
the study and pursuit of philosophy, and engaging with physics, and studying
dialectic, and examining and investigating many theoretical matters of that kind,
he would invoke the help of gods and men, and often, while doing so, would
reproach the man in these terms: ‘Man, where are you putting these things?
Check to see whether the vessel is clean. If you put them into your conceited
mind, they’re ruined; and if they rot, they turn into urine or vinegar or perhaps
something worse than that.’ Surely there could be nothing weightier, nothing
truer than these words in which the greatest of philosophers declared that the
writings and teachings of philosophy, when poured into a false and degenerate
person, as though into a dirty and polluted vessel, are spoiled and (as he himself
says kunikōteron [in a somewhat Cynic tone]) turn into urine or perhaps
something even fouler than that.

The same Epictetus, moreover, as we have also heard from Favorinus, used to
say that there are two vices that are much graver and more hateful than all
others, namely, want of endurance and want of self-control, when we are unable
to bear and endure the wrongs that we ought to bear, and cannot hold back from
those pleasures and other things that we ought to hold back from. And so, he
said, if someone could take these two words to heart, and use them to govern and
control himself, he will be free from fault for the most part and live a most
peaceful life. These two words, he used to say, are anechou and apechou [bear
and forbear].

10a. When the safety of our souls and respect for our true selves are at stake,
one may have to do something even without prior thought, according to a saying
of Epictetus, which Arrian quotes with approval.

11. Now when Archelaus* sent for Socrates, saying that he would make him
rich, Socrates told the messenger to take back the following reply: ‘At Athens
one can buy four quarts of barley-meal for an obol,* and there are springs that
run with water.’ For if what I have isn’t enough for me, it is enough to satisfy
me, and it is thus enough for me. Or don’t you see that Polus* didn’t act the part
of Oedipus the King with finer voice, or with greater pleasure, than he acted that
of Oedipus at Colonus,* the vagabond and beggar? Then shall a man of noble
character show himself inferior to Polus, by failing to perform well in any role
that the Deity assigns to him? Won’t he rather follow the example of Odysseus,*
who was no less distinguished in rags than in a fine purple cloak?

12. There are some people who can be ill-tempered in a gentle way, and who,
quite calmly and as though without anger, do everything that those who are
carried away by their anger would do. We must be on our guard, then, against
the error of such people, as something far worse than becoming furiously angry.
For those who fly into a passion soon have their fill of vengeance, while others
prolong it for a considerable time like people who are suffering from a light
fever.

13. ‘But I see the good and virtuous’, someone says, ‘dying from hunger and
cold.’—But don’t you also see those who aren’t good and virtuous dying from
luxury, pretension, and vulgarity?—‘Yes, but it’s shameful to rely on someone
else for one’s support.’—And who relies on himself alone for his support, you
wretch? Only the universe does so. Whoever finds fault with providence, then,
because the wicked aren’t punished, and because they’re rich and powerful, is
acting just as though, if the wicked had lost their eyes, he said they weren’t
being punished because their fingernails were in good order. Now, I would say
that there is much more difference between virtue and property than there is
between eyes and fingernails.

14. … bringing forward those grumpy philosophers who think pleasure is not
something natural, but something that follows upon things that are natural, such
as justice, self-control, freedom. Why, then, does the soul take delight in lesser
goods, those of the body, and find peace in them, as Epicurus says, and yet not
find pleasure in its own goods, which are the greatest? Yet nature has also given
me a sense of shame, and I often blush when I think that I’m saying something
shameful. It is that emotion that won’t permit me to regard pleasure as a good
thing and the end of life.

15. In Rome the women have Plato’s Republic in their hands because he says
that women should be held in common. For they pay heed only to the words,
and not to what the man actually means, since he doesn’t recommend that
people should marry and live together, one man with one woman, and then go
on to say that wives should be shared, but he does away with that kind of
marriage and introduces another in place of it. But in general people are pleased
to find ways to excuse their own faults; since philosophy says, indeed, that we
shouldn’t even stretch out our finger without due reason!

16. One should know that it isn’t easy for a person to arrive at a firm judgement
unless, day after day, he states and hears the same principles, and at the same
time applies them to his life.

17. When we’re invited to a banquet, we take whatever is served, and if anyone
should ask his host to serve him with fish or cakes, he would be thought
eccentric; and yet in the wider world, we ask the gods for things that they don’t
give us, irrespective of the many things that they actually have given us.

18. Smart fellows they are, he said, who pride themselves on those things that
are not within our power. ‘I’m better than you,’ one says, ‘because I own plenty
of land while you’re half-dead with hunger.’ Another says, ‘I’m of consular
rank,’ and another, ‘I’m a procurator,’ and another, ‘I have good thick hair.’ And
yet one horse doesn’t say to another, ‘I’m better than you because I have plenty
of fodder, and plenty of barley, and bridles of gold, and richly worked saddles,’
but rather it says, ‘I can run faster than you.’ And every creature is better or
worse in so far as it is made so by its own specific virtue or vice. Can it be, then,
that man is the only creature to have no specific virtue, so that he has to look
instead to his hair, and his clothes, and his forebears?

19. When their doctor fails to offer them any advice, people who are ill get
angry and think that he has given up on them. Why shouldn’t one take the same
attitude towards a philosopher, and so conclude that he has despaired of one ever
achieving a sound state of mind if he no longer gives one any useful advice?

20. Those whose bodies are in good condition can endure both heat and cold;
and so, likewise, those whose souls are in fine condition can endure anger, and
grief, and every other emotion.

21. Agrippinus can be rightly praised for this reason, that although he was a man
of the very highest worth, he never praised himself, but would blush even if
someone else praised him. He was a man of such a kind, said Epictetus, that
when he was struck by any difficulty, he would write in praise of it; if fever was
his lot, in praise of fever, if disrepute, in praise of disrepute, if exile, in praise of
exile. And one day, he said, when Agrippinus was about to take his morning
meal, a man arrived to tell him that Nero was ordering him to go into exile;
‘Very well,’ he said, ‘we’ll eat our meal in Aricia.’

22. When Agrippinus was serving as governor, he used to try to persuade the
people whom he sentenced that it was proper for them to be sentenced. ‘For it is
not as an enemy’, he said, ‘that I pass sentence against them, but as an overseer
and guardian, just as a doctor encourages the man whom he is operating on, and
persuades him to offer himself up.’

23. Nature is wonderful, and, as Xenophon* says, ‘full of love for her
creatures’. At any rate, we love our body and take care of it, the most unpleasant
and foulest of all things; why, if we had to take care of our neighbour’s body for
just five days, that would be more than we could bear. For think what it would
be like to get up in the morning and clean someone else’s teeth, and then, after
he had attended to a certain necessary function, to wash the relevant parts. In
truth, it is amazing that we should love something for which we have to perform
so many services day after day. I stuff this sack* here, and then I empty it; what
could be more tedious? But I have to serve God; and for that reason, I stay here
and put up with having to wash this poor wretched body of mine, and feed it,
and shelter it. When I was younger, there was also another duty* that was
assigned to me, and yet I put up with that too. So why can’t you bear it, then,
when nature, which gave us our body, takes it away again?—‘I love it,’ someone
says.—Well, but isn’t it nature, as I was saying just now, that has given you the
very love that you feel for it? But this same nature also says, ‘Let it go now, and
trouble yourself no longer.’

24. If someone dies young, he finds fault with the gods [because he is having to
leave the world before his time, but if he remains alive when old, he finds fault
with them too] because he is continuing to live when it was high time that he
was at rest; but all the same, when death approaches, he wants to stay alive, and
sends for the doctor, telling him to spare no trouble or effort. How extraordinary
people are, he said, to be unwilling either to live or to die.

25. Before you attack anyone in an aggressive and threatening manner,

remember to tell yourself that you’re not a wild animal; and then you’ll never
commit any violent act, and will thus pass through life without having to repent
or be called to account.

26. You’re a little soul carrying a corpse around, as Epictetus used to say.
27. He said, too, that we must find an art of assent, and in the sphere of our
motives, take good care that they’re exercised subject to reservation, and that
they take account of the common interest, and that they’re proportionate to the
worth of their object; and we should abstain wholly from desire, and exercise
aversion towards nothing that is not within our power.

28. So the struggle, he said, is over no slight matter, but whether we are to be
mad or sane.
 HANDBOOK

1.1. Some things are within our power, while others are not. Within our power
are opinion, motivation, desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever is of our own
doing; not within our power are our body, our property, reputation, office, and,
in a word, whatever is not of our own doing. 2. The things that are within our
power are by nature free, and immune to hindrance and obstruction, while those
that are not within our power are weak, slavish, subject to hindrance, and not our
own. 3. Remember, then, that if you regard that which is by nature slavish as
being free, and that which is not your own as being your own, you’ll have cause
to lament, you’ll have a troubled mind, and you’ll find fault with both gods and
human beings; but if you regard only that which is your own as being your own,
and that which isn’t your own as not being your own (as is indeed the case), no
one will ever be able to coerce you, no one will hinder you, you’ll find fault with
no one, you’ll accuse no one, you’ll do nothing whatever against your will,
you’ll have no enemy, and no one will ever harm you because no harm can
affect you.

4. Since you’re aiming, then, at such great things, remember that you’ll have to
exert no small effort to attain them, and that you’ll have to renounce some things
altogether, while postponing others for the present. But if you want to have both
these things and public office and riches too, you’ll quite possibly not even gain
the latter because you’re aiming at the former too, and you’ll certainly fail to get
the former, through which alone happiness and freedom can be secured.

5. Practise, then, from the very beginning to say to every disagreeable

impression, ‘You’re an impression and not at all what you appear to be.’ Then
examine it and test it by these rules that you possess, and first and foremost by
this one, whether the impression relates to those things that are within our
power, or those that aren’t within our power; and if it relates to anything that
isn’t within our power, be ready to reply, ‘That’s nothing to me.’

2.1. Remember that desire promises the attaining of what you desire, and
aversion the avoiding of what you want to avoid, and that he who falls into
desire is unfortunate, while he who falls into what he wants to avoid suffers
misfortune. If you seek to avoid, then, only what is contrary to nature among
those things that are within your own power, you’ll never fall into anything that
you want to avoid; but if you attempt to avoid illness, or death, or poverty,
you’ll suffer misfortune. 2. Remove your aversion, then, from everything that is
not within our power, and transfer it to what is contrary to nature among those
things that are within our power. For the present, however, suppress your desires
entirely; for if you desire any of the things that are not within our power, you’re
bound to be unfortunate, while those that are within our power, which it would
be right for you to desire, aren’t yet within your reach. But use only your
motives to act or not to act, and even those lightly, with reservations and without
straining.

3. With regard to everything that is a source of delight to you, or is useful to

you, or of which you are fond, remember to keep telling yourself what kind of
thing it is, starting with the most insignificant. If you’re fond of a jug, say, ‘This
is a jug that I’m fond of,’ and then, if it gets broken, you won’t be upset. If you
kiss your child or your wife, say to yourself that it is a human being that you’re
kissing; and then, if one of them should die, you won’t be upset.

4. When you’re about to embark on any action, remind yourself what kind of
action it is. If you’re going out to take a bath, set before your mind the things
that happen at the baths, that people splash you, that people knock up against
you, that people steal from you. And you’ll thus undertake the action in a surer
manner if you say to yourself at the outset, ‘I want to take a bath and ensure at
the same time that my choice remains in harmony with nature.’ And follow the
same course in every action that you embark on. So if anything gets in your way
while you’re taking your bath, you’ll be ready to tell yourself, ‘Well, this wasn’t
the only thing that I wanted to do, but I also wanted to keep my choice in
harmony with nature; and I won’t keep it so if I get annoyed at what is
happening.’

5. It isn’t the things themselves that disturb people, but the judgements that they
form about them. Death, for instance, is nothing terrible, or else it would have
seemed so to Socrates too; no, it is in the judgement that death is terrible that the
terror lies. So accordingly, whenever we’re impeded, disturbed, or distressed, we
should never blame anyone else, but only ourselves, that is to say, our
judgements. It is the act of an ill-educated person to cast blame on others when
things are going badly for him; one who has taken the first step towards
becoming properly educated casts blame on himself; while one who is fully
educated casts blame neither on another nor on himself.

6. Don’t pride yourself on any excellence that is not your own. If a horse were
to say in its pride, ‘I’m beautiful,’ that would be bearable; but when you exclaim
in your pride, ‘I have a beautiful horse,’ you should be clear in your mind that
you’re priding yourself on a good quality that belongs to a horse. What is your
own, then? The use of impressions.* So when you’re in harmony with nature
through the right use of impressions, you should then be proud of yourself; for
then you’ll be taking pride in some good of your own.

7. When you’re on a voyage and your ship has set anchor, if you should go
ashore to fetch water, you may pick up a little shellfish or bulb on the way, but
you have to keep your attention directed towards the ship, and turn round
constantly in case the captain calls you back; and if he does, you must cast these
things aside, if you don’t want to be thrown on board trussed up like a sheep. So
in life too, if in place of some little bulb or shellfish, a little wife and child
should be granted to you, there is nothing wrong with that; but if the captain
calls, you must give up all of these things and run to the ship, without even
turning around to look back. And if you’re an old man, you shouldn’t even
wander any distance from the ship, so as not to be missing when the call comes.

8. Don’t seek that all that comes about should come about as you wish, but wish
that everything that comes about should come about just as it does, and then
you’ll have a calm and happy life.

9. Disease is an impediment to the body, but not to choice, unless choice wills it
to be so. Lameness is an impediment to the leg, but not to choice.* And tell
yourself the same with regard to everything that happens to you; for you’ll find
that it acts as an impediment to something else, but not to yourself.

10. With regard to everything that happens to you, remember to look inside
yourself and see what capacity you have to enable you to deal with it. If you
catch sight of a beautiful boy or woman, you’ll find that you have self-control to
enable you to deal with that; if hard work lies in store for you, you’ll find
endurance; if vilification, you’ll find forbearance. And if you get into the habit
of following this course, you won’t get swept away by your impressions.

11. Never say about anything, ‘I’ve lost it,’ but rather, ‘I’ve given it back.’ Your
child has died? It has been given back. Your wife has died? She has been given
back. ‘My farm has been taken from me.’ Well, that too has been given back.
‘Yes, but the man who took it is a rogue.’ What does it matter to you through
what person the one who gave it to you demanded it back? So long as he
entrusts it to you, take care of it as something that isn’t your own, as travellers
treat an inn.

12.1. If you want to make progress, reject such thoughts as these: ‘If I neglect
my affairs, I’ll have nothing to live on,’ or, ‘If I don’t punish my slave-boy, he’ll
turn out badly.’ For it is better to die of hunger, but free from distress and fear,
than to live in plenty with a troubled mind; and it is better that your slave should
be bad than that you should be unhappy. Make a start, then, with small things. 2.
A drop of oil is spilled, a little wine is stolen; say to yourself, ‘Such is the price
at which equanimity is bought; such is the price that one pays for peace of
mind.’ For nothing can be acquired at no cost at all. When you summon your
slave-boy, keep in mind that he may not obey, and even if he does, he may not
do what you want; but he is hardly so well placed that it depends on him
whether you’re to enjoy peace of mind.

13. If you want to make progress, put up with being thought foolish and silly
with regard to external things, and don’t even wish to give the impression of
knowing anything about them; and if some people come to think that you’re
somebody of note, regard yourself with distrust. For you should recognize that it
isn’t easy to keep your choice in accord with nature and, at the same time, hold
onto externals, but if you apply your attention to one of those things, you’re
bound to neglect the other.

14.1. If you want your children and wife and friends to live for ever, you’re a
fool, because you’re wanting things that aren’t within your power to be within
your power, and things that aren’t your own to be your own. And likewise, if
you want your slave-boy never to commit a fault, you’re an idiot, because you’re
wanting badness not to be badness, but something else. If you make it your
wish, however, not to fail in your desires, that lies within your power. So
exercise yourself in that which you can achieve. 2. Everyone is subject to
anyone who has power over what he wants or doesn’t want, as one who is in a
position to confer it or take it away. If anyone wants to be free, then, let him
neither want anything nor seek to avoid anything that is under the control of
others; or else he is bound to be a slave.
15. Remember that you should behave in life as you do at a banquet. Something
is being passed around and arrives in front of you: reach out your hand and take
your share politely. It passes: don’t try to hold it back. It has yet to reach you:
don’t project your desire towards it, but wait until it arrives in front of you. So
act likewise with regard to your children, to your wife, to public office, to riches,
and the time will come when you’re worthy to have a seat at the banquets of the
gods. And if you don’t even take these things when they’re in front of you, but
view them with contempt, then you’ll not only share in the banquets of the gods,
but also in their rule. For it was by acting in such a way that Diogenes, and
Heraclitus,* and others like them, deservedly became divine and were called so.

16. When you see someone weeping in sorrow because his child has gone away,
or because he has lost his possessions, take care that you’re not carried away by
the impression that he is indeed in misfortune because of these external things,
but be ready at once with this thought, ‘It isn’t what has happened that so
distresses this person—for someone else could suffer the same without feeling
that distress—but rather the judgement that he has formed about it.’ As far as
words go, however, don’t hesitate to sympathize with him, or even, if the
occasion arises, to join in his lamentations; but take care that you don’t also
lament deep inside.

17. Remember that you’re an actor in a play, which will be as the author
chooses, short if he wants it to be short, and long if he wants it to be long. If he
wants you to play the part of a beggar, act even that part with all your skill; and
likewise if you’re playing a cripple, an official, or a private citizen. For that is
your business, to act the role that is assigned to you as well as you can; but it is
another’s* part to select that role.

18. When a raven croaks* inauspiciously, don’t allow yourself to be carried

away by the impression, but immediately draw a distinction within your mind,
and say, ‘None of these omens apply to me, but only to my poor body, to my
paltry possessions, or my reputation, or my children, or my wife. But for me
every omen is favourable for I want it to be so; for whatever may come about, it
is within my power to derive benefit from it.’

19.1. You can be invincible if you never enter a contest in which the victory
doesn’t depend on you. 2. So whenever you see someone being preferred above
you in the awarding of honours, or holding great power, or enjoying high repute
in any other way, take care that you don’t get carried away by the outward
impression and count him as happy; for if the nature of the good is one of the
things that lie within our power, there can be no place for either envy or
jealousy, and you yourself won’t want to be a praetor or senator or consul, but a
free man. Now there is one path alone that leads to that: to despise everything
that doesn’t lie within our own power.

20. Remember that what insults you isn’t the person who abuses you or hits you,
but your judgement that such people are insulting you. So whenever anyone
irritates you, recognize that it is your opinion that has irritated you. Try above
all, then, not to allow yourself to be carried away by the impression; for if you
delay things and gain time to think, you’ll find it easier to gain control of
yourself.

21. Day by day you must keep before your eyes death and exile and everything
else that seems frightening, but most especially death; and then you’ll never
harbour any mean thought, nor will you desire anything beyond due measure.

22. If you set your desire on pursuing philosophy, prepare from that moment to
be subject to ridicule, and to have many people mocking you, and saying, ‘Look,
he’s come back to us having become a philosopher all of a sudden!’ and ‘Where
do you suppose he picked up that supercilious air?’ You shouldn’t assume an air
of self-importance, but should hold fast to the things that seem best to you, as
one who has been appointed by God to this post; and remember that if you hold
true to the same principles, those who laughed at you will later come to admire
you; but if you allow these people to get the better of you, you’ll merely be
laughed at twice over.

23. If it should ever come about that you turn to external things because you
want to gratify another person, be clear that you’ve lost your plan in life. Be
content, then, to be a philosopher in all that you do, and if you also want to be
viewed as one, show yourself that you are, and you’ll be able to achieve that.

24.1. Don’t allow these thoughts to upset you: ‘I’ll live unhonoured, and be
nobody anywhere.’ For if it is a bad thing to be unhonoured, you cannot be in a
bad state as a result of someone else’s actions, any more than you can be
brought into shame in that way. It is no business of yours, surely, to gain a
public post or be invited to a dinner party? Certainly not. So how can this still be
a source of dishonour? And how will you be ‘nobody anywhere’ if you only
need to be somebody in those things that are within your own power, and in
which it is possible for you to be a man of the highest worth? 2. But your friends
will be left unhelped? What do you mean by ‘left unhelped’? They won’t receive
any little payouts from you, nor will you be able to grant them Roman
citizenship. Well, who told you that these are things that are within our power,
rather than being other people’s business? And who is able to give to another
person something that he himself doesn’t have? ‘Then get hold of some money’,
a friend says, ‘so that we too may have some.’ 3. If I can get some while
preserving my self-respect, trustworthiness, and generosity of mind, show me
the way and I’ll get it; but if you require me to lose the good things that I have to
enable you to acquire things that aren’t good, consider how unfair you’re being,
or how foolish. After all, what would you rather have? Money, or a faithful and
self-respecting friend? So help me instead to become such a person, and don’t
require me to do things that would cause me to lose those qualities.

4. ‘But my country’, he says, ‘will receive no help from me, so far as I can
offer it.’ Here again, what kind of help do you mean? It won’t acquire any
arcades or baths through your good offices. And what of that? For it doesn’t
acquire shoes either through the good offices of a blacksmith, or arms through
those of a cobbler; it is enough that each person fulfils his own function. And if
you provide your country with another citizen who is trustworthy and self-
respecting, would you bring it no benefit? ‘Indeed I would.’ Well then, in that
case you wouldn’t be of no use to it. ‘What place shall I hold in the state, then?’,
he asks. Whatever place you can hold while maintaining your trustworthiness
and self-respect. 5. But if, out of a wish to help the state, you sacrifice those
qualities, what use could you be to it, when you’ve turned out to be shameless
and untrustworthy?

25.1. Has someone been honoured above you at a banquet, or in being saluted,
or in being summoned to give advice? If these things are good, you ought to
rejoice if someone else has secured them; but if they’re bad, don’t be aggrieved
that you haven’t secured them. And remember, too, that if you don’t resort to the
same means as other people to acquire things that aren’t within our power, you
can’t lay claim to an equal share of them. 2. For how can someone who doesn’t
hang around somebody’s door claim an equal share with someone who does? Or
if he doesn’t join the man’s retinue when he goes out along with the other
person? Or he doesn’t sing his praises along with the other person? You’ll be
unjust, then, and thoroughly greedy, if you refuse to pay the price for which
these things are marketed, and want to get hold of them for nothing. 3. Well, at
what price are lettuces sold? An obol perhaps. If someone pays the obol, then,
and gets the lettuces, while you pay nothing and get nothing, don’t suppose that
you’re worse off than the man who gets the lettuces; for while he has his
lettuces, you have your obol, which you haven’t given away. 4. Things follow
the same course in the present case too. You haven’t been invited to somebody’s
dinner party? Of course not, because you haven’t paid the host the price at which
he sells the dinner; he sells it for praise, he sells it for attention. Very well, then,
pay him the price for which it is sold, if it is in your interest. But if you want to
make no payment and still receive the goods, you’re greedy and foolish. Do you
have nothing, then, in place of the dinner? Why, of course you have: you haven’t
been obliged to praise a man whom you didn’t want to praise, you didn’t have to
suffer the insolence of the people at the door.

26. The will of nature may be learned from those events in life in which we
don’t differ from one another. For instance, when someone else’s slave-boy
breaks a cup, we’re ready at once to say, ‘That’s just one of those things.’ So
you should be clear, then, that if your own cup gets broken, you ought to react in
exactly the same way as when someone else’s does. Transfer the principle to
greater matters too. Someone else’s child or wife has died; there isn’t anyone
who wouldn’t say, ‘Such is our human lot.’ And yet when one’s own child or
wife dies, one cries out at once, ‘Oh poor wretch that I am.’ But we ought to
remember how we feel when we hear that the same thing has happened to
others.

27. Just as a target isn’t set up to be missed, so nothing that is bad by nature
comes into being in the universe.

28. If someone handed over your body to somebody whom you encountered,
you’d be furious; but that you hand over your mind to anyone who comes along,
so that, if he abuses you, it becomes disturbed and confused, do you feel no
shame at that?

29. [See Discourse 3.15.1–13.]

30. Appropriate actions are measured on the whole by our social relationships.
He is your father: you’re obliged to take care of him, to give way to him in
everything, to put up with it if he scolds you or strikes you. ‘But he’s a bad
father.’ Do the ties of nature bind you, then, only to a good father? No, but to a
father. ‘My brother is wronging me.’ Very well, maintain the relation that you
have towards him; don’t look to what he is doing, but to what you must do if
you are to keep your choice in harmony with nature. For no one will cause you
harm if you don’t wish it; you’ll have been harmed only when you suppose that
you’ve been harmed. In this way, then, you’ll discover the appropriate actions to
expect from a neighbour, from a fellow citizen, from a general, if you get into
the habit of examining your social relationships.

31.1. As regards piety towards the gods, you should know that the most
important point is to hold correct opinions about them, regarding them as beings
who exist and govern the universe well and justly, and to have made up your
mind to obey them and submit to everything that comes about, and to fall in with
it of your own free will, as something that has been brought to pass by the
highest intelligence. For if you follow that course, you’ll never find fault with
the gods or accuse them of having neglected you.

2. But it isn’t possible for you to achieve this in any other way than by
withdrawing your conception of good and bad from the things that are not within
our power, and placing it in those things alone that are within our power. For if
you regard any of the former as being good or bad, it will necessarily follow
that, whenever you fail to get what you want or fall into things that you want to
avoid, you’ll blame and hate those who are responsible. 3. For it lies in the
nature of every living creature that it should flee from and seek to avoid those
things that seem harmful to it, and pursue and admire those that are helpful and
all that gives rise to them. Accordingly, it is impossible for someone who thinks
that he is suffering harm to take pleasure in what he thinks to be responsible for
that harm, just as it is impossible for him to take pleasure in the harm itself. 4.
And so it comes about that even a father is abused by his son if he fails to give
him a share of the things that pass for good; and it was this that caused Eteocles
and Polynices* to become enemies: the idea that the throne was a good thing.
That is why a farmer reviles the gods, and so too a sailor or merchant, and those
who have lost their wives and children. For where a person’s interest lies, there
too lies his piety. It follows that whoever takes care to exercise his desires and
aversions as he ought is taking care at the same time that he’ll act with piety. 5.
But it is also appropriate on each occasion to offer libations and sacrifices, and
first fruits, in accordance with the customs of our forebears, and do so with
purity, and in no casual or perfunctory manner, and neither stingily nor beyond
what we can afford.

32.1. When you take recourse to divination, remember that you don’t know how
that matter in question will turn out, but that you’ve come to discover that from
the diviner; but if you are indeed a philosopher, you already know when you
arrive what kind of thing it is. For if it is one of those things that are not within
our power, it follows with absolute certainty that it must be neither good nor
bad. 2. So you should bring neither desire nor aversion to the diviner, and you
shouldn’t approach him with trepidation, but as one who fully recognizes that
every outcome is indifferent and of no concern to you, and that whatever it may
be, it will be possible for you to make good use of it, and that no one can prevent
you from doing so. So approach the gods with confidence, as your advisers, and
afterwards, when some advice has been granted to you, remember who it is that
you have taken as your advisers, and whom you will be disregarding if you
disobey them. 3. Resort to divination as Socrates* thought right, in matters in
which the enquiry relates exclusively to the outcome, and where neither reason
nor any technical knowledge provides the means that are required to discover
the point in question. So accordingly, when it is your duty to share a friend’s
danger or that of your country, you shouldn’t resort to divination to ask whether
you should share that danger. For even if the diviner should warn you that the
omens from the sacrifice are unfavourable, and it is clear that death is portended,
or mutilation of some part of your body, or exile, reason requires all the same
that, even in the face of these risks, you should support your friend and share the
danger of your country. Pay heed, then, to that greater diviner the Pythian
Apollo,* who cast out of his temple the man who failed to come to the help of
his friend when he was being murdered.

33.1. Lay down from this moment a certain character and pattern of behaviour
for yourself, which you are to preserve both when you’re alone and when you’re
with others.

2. Remain silent for the most part, or say only what is essential, and in few
words. Very infrequently, however, when the occasion demands, do speak, but
not about any of the usual topics, not about gladiators, not about horse-races, not
about athletes, not about food and drink, the subjects of everyday talk; but above
all, don’t talk about people, either to praise or criticize them, or to compare
them. 3. If you’re able to so, then, through the manner of your own conversation
bring that of your companions round to what is fit and proper. But if you happen
to find yourself alone among strangers, keep silent.

4. Don’t laugh much, or at many things, or without restraint.

5. Refuse to swear any oath at all, if that is possible, but if it isn’t, refuse as far
as you’re able.
as you’re able.

6. Avoid parties that are hosted by outsiders and people who have no knowledge
of philosophy, but if you do have occasion to attend them, take great care that
you don’t fall back into a layman’s state of mind. For you should be clear that if
your companion is polluted, anyone who rubs up against him is bound to become
polluted too, even if he himself happens to be clean.

7. In things relating to the body, take only as much as your bare need requires,
with regard to food, for instance, or drink, clothes, housing, or household slaves;
but exclude everything that is for show or luxury.

8. As regards sexual relations, keep yourself pure, so far as you can, until you
marry; but if you do indulge, confine yourself to what is lawful. Don’t make
yourself tiresome, however, to those who indulge, or be over-critical, and don’t
constantly call attention to the fact that you don’t behave like them.

9. If someone reports to you that a certain person is speaking ill of you, don’t
defend yourself against what has been said, but reply instead, ‘Ah yes, he was
plainly unaware of all my other faults, or else those wouldn’t have been the only
ones that he mentioned.’

10. There is no need on the whole to go to public shows, but if you ever have
occasion to do so, show yourself as not taking sides for anyone other than
yourself, that is to say, wish only that what actually does happen should happen,
and that only the man who actually does win should win; for if you do that,
you’ll meet with no hindrance. But refrain entirely from shouting out, or
laughing at anyone, or getting overexcited. And after you’ve left, don’t talk
much about what has taken place, except in so far as that contributes to your own
improvement; for such talk would suggest that you were impressed by the
spectacle.

11. Don’t go casually or readily to people’s public readings;* but if you do go,
preserve your dignity and composure, taking care at the same time not to make
yourself disagreeable.

12. When you’re due to meet somebody, and in particular one who is regarded
with high respect, put this question to yourself: ‘What would Socrates or Zeno
have done in this situation?’ And then you’ll have no difficulty in making proper
use of the occasion. 13. When you’re going to meet some very powerful man,
put the thought to yourself that you won’t find him at home, that you’ll be shut
put the thought to yourself that you won’t find him at home, that you’ll be shut
out, that the door will be closed in your face, that he’ll pay no heed to you. And
if, in spite of all that, it is your duty to go, then go, and put up with whatever
comes about, and never tell yourself, ‘It wasn’t worth the trouble.’ For that is the
mark of a layman, of someone who can be upset by externals.

14. In your conversation, avoid talking at length or overmuch about your own
exploits or the dangers that you’ve faced; for pleasant though it may be for you
to recall your perils, it is not as pleasant for others to listen to everything that has
happened to you.

15. Abstain too from trying to arouse laughter, for that is behaviour that can
easily slip into vulgarity, and tends at the same time to cause your neighbours to
view you with less respect. 16. It is dangerous likewise to engage in smutty talk.
So when anything like that comes up, you should, if the occasion presents itself,
even reproach the person who has resorted to such talk; or if that isn’t possible,
show by your silence at least, and your blushes and frowns, that you’re
displeased at what is being said.

34. When you receive an impression of some pleasure, take care not to get
carried away by it, as with impressions in general; but rather, make it wait for
you, and allow yourself some slight delay. And next, think about these two
moments in time, that in which you’ll enjoy the pleasure, and that in which
you’ll come to repent after having enjoyed it and will reproach yourself; and set
against all of that how you’ll rejoice if you’ve abstained from the pleasure, and
will congratulate yourself for having done so. If you think, however, that a
suitable occasion has come for you to engage in this task, take care that you’re
not overcome by its allure, and by the pleasantness and attraction of it; but set
against this the thought of how much better it is to be conscious of having
gained a victory over it.

35. When you’ve decided that you ought to do something and are doing it, never
try to avoid being seen to do it, even if most people will probably view it with
disapproval; for if it isn’t right to do it, avoid doing it in the first place, but if it
is, why be afraid of those who’ll reproach you without justification?

36. Just as the propositions ‘it is day’ and ‘it is night’ are entirely meaningful
when taken separately, but become meaningless when joined into one, so
likewise it may make sense with regard to your body to take the larger share at a
dinner, but it makes no sense at all with regard to the maintenance of proper
social feeling. So when you’re eating with another person, remember to look not
only at the value that the dishes set before you will have for your body, but also
at the value of maintaining proper respect for your host.

37. If you take on a role that is beyond your power, you’ll not only disgrace
yourself in that role, but you’ll also neglect to take on that which you might have
been capable of filling.

38. Just as, when walking around, you take care not to tread on a nail or sprain
your ankle, so take care likewise to avoid harming your ruling centre; and if we
observe this rule in every action, we’ll undertake the task in a more secure
fashion.

39. Each person’s body is the measure for his property,* as the foot is for a
shoe. If you abide by this principle, then, you’ll maintain due measure, but if
you pass beyond it, you’ll find yourself falling, so to speak, over a cliff. It is the
same in the case of a shoe: if you pass beyond what the foot requires, you’ll first
get a gilded shoe, and then a purple one, and then an embroidered one; for as
soon as you’ve passed beyond the measure, there is no limit.

40. As soon as they reach the age of fourteen, women are called mistresses by
men. And so when they see that they have no other function than to become
bedfellows of men, they set to work to beautify themselves, and place all their
hopes in that. It is worth our while, then, to make them aware that they’re valued
for nothing other than being modest and self-respecting.

41. It is a sign of a lack of natural aptitude to spend much time on things relating
to the body, by taking a large amount of exercise, for instance, and eating too
much, drinking too much, and spending too much time emptying one’s bowels
and copulating. No, these things should be done in passing, and you should
devote undivided attention to your mind.

42. When someone acts badly towards you, or speaks badly of you, remember
that he is acting or speaking in that way because he regards that as being the
proper thing for him to do. Now, it isn’t possible for him to act in accordance
with what seems right to you, but only with what seems right to him. So if he
judges wrongly, he is the one who suffers the harm, since he is the one who has
been deceived. For if anyone should think a true composite judgement* to be
false, the judgement itself isn’t harmed, but the person who has been deceived.
If you start out, then, from this way of thinking, you’ll be gentle with someone
who abuses you, for in each case you’ll say, ‘That is how it seemed to him.’

43. Everything has two handles, and it may be carried by one of these handles,
but not by the other. If your brother acts wrongly towards you, don’t try to grasp
the matter by this handle, that he is wronging you (because that is the handle by
which it can’t be carried), but rather by the other, that he is your brother, he was
brought up with you, and then you’ll be grasping the matter by the handle by
which it can be carried.

44. The following assertions don’t form a coherent argument: ‘I’m richer than
you, therefore I’m better than you’ or ‘I’m more eloquent than you, therefore
I’m better than you’; no, it is these that do: ‘I’m richer than you, therefore my
possessions are superior to yours’ or ‘I’m more eloquent than you, therefore my
way of speaking is superior to yours.’ But you yourself are neither your
possessions nor your way of speaking.

45. Someone takes his bath in a hurry; don’t say that he bathes badly, but that he
does so in a hurry. Someone drinks a large amount of wine. Don’t say that he
drinks badly, but that he drinks a large amount. For until you’ve determined
from what judgement he is proceeding, how do you know whether he is acting
badly? And so in that way it won’t come about that you receive convincing
impressions of some things but give your assent to others.

46.1. Never call yourself a philosopher, and don’t talk among laymen for the
most part about philosophical principles, but act in accordance with those
principles. At a banquet, for example, don’t talk about how one ought to eat, but
eat as one ought. Remember how Socrates so completely renounced all outward
show that when people came to him and asked to be introduced to philosophers,
he would take them along and introduce them, so readily did he submit to being
overlooked.* 2. And accordingly, if any talk should arise among laymen about
some philosophical principle, keep silent for the most part, for there is a great
danger that you’ll simply vomit* up what you haven’t properly digested. So
when the day arrives when someone tells you that you know nothing, and you,
like Socrates, aren’t upset by that, you may be sure that you’re making a start on
your work as a philosopher. For sheep, too, don’t vomit up their fodder to show
the shepherds how much they’ve eaten, but digest their food inside them, and
produce wool and milk on the outside. And so you likewise shouldn’t show off
your principles to laymen, but rather show them the actions that result from
those principles when they’ve been properly digested.

47. When you’ve become adapted to a simple way of life in bodily matters,
don’t pride yourself on that, and likewise, if you drink nothing but water, don’t
proclaim at every opportunity that you drink nothing but water. And if at any
time you want to train yourself to endure hardship, do it for your own sake and
not for others; don’t embrace statues,* but if you ever find yourself extremely
thirsty, take some cold water into your mouth and then spit it out again, without
telling a soul.*

48.1. The condition and character of a layman is this: that he never expects that
benefit or harm will come to him from himself, but only from externals. The
condition and character of a philosopher is this: that he expects all benefit and
harm to come to him from himself.

2. The signs of one who is making progress are that he criticizes no one, praises
no one, blames or accuses no one, and never speaks of himself as being anyone
of importance, or as one who has any knowledge. And if he is praised, he laughs
within at the person who is praising him, and if anyone finds fault with him, he
makes no defence. He goes about like an invalid, taking care not to disturb any
part of him that is getting better until he has achieved lasting recovery. 3. He has
rid himself of every desire,* and has transferred his aversion to those things
alone that are contrary to nature among the things that are within our own power.
He is moderate in his motives whatever they may be directed towards. If he
gives the impression of being foolish or ignorant, he doesn’t mind. In a word, he
keeps guard against himself, as though he were an enemy lying in ambush for
himself.

49. When someone is filled with pride because he is able to understand and
interpret the works of Chrysippus, say to yourself, ‘If Chrysippus hadn’t written
in such an obscure style, this person wouldn’t have anything to pride himself
on.’ But what is it that I want? To understand nature and to follow it. So I look
around for someone who can interpret it, and having heard that Chrysippus can,
I go to him. But I don’t understand his writings, so I look for someone who can
interpret them. Up to this point, there is nothing to be proud of. But when I find
the interpreter, what remains for me to do is to apply his precepts; that is the
only thing that gives any ground for pride. But if what I value is the mere act of
interpretation, what else have I achieved than to have become a literary scholar
instead of a philosopher? The only difference is that I’m interpreting Chrysippus
rather than Homer. So when someone says to me, ‘Read me some Chrysippus,’ I
blush rather than feeling any pride, when I’m unable to show that my actions
match up to his words and are consistent with them.

50. Whatever rules of conduct are set for you, hold to them as if they were laws,
as if it would be an act of impiety for you to transgress them; as to what anyone
says about you, pay no heed to it, since in the end that is not your concern.

51.1. How much longer will you delay before you think yourself worthy of what
is best, and transgress in nothing the distinctions that reason imposes? You’ve
acquired knowledge of the philosophical principles that you ought to accept, and
have accepted them. What kind of teacher, then, are you still waiting for, that
you should delay any effort to reform yourself until he appears? You’re no
longer a youth; you’re a full-grown man. If you’re now negligent and idle, and
are constantly making one delay after another, and setting one day and then
another as the date after which you’ll devote proper attention to yourself, then
you’ll fail to appreciate that you’re making no progress, but will continue to be a
layman your whole life through until you die. 2. So you should think fit from
this moment to live as an adult and as one who is making progress; and let
everything that seems best to you be an inviolable law for you. And if you come
up against anything that requires an effort, or is pleasant, or is glorious or
inglorious, remember that this is the time of the contest, that the Olympic Games
have now arrived, and that there is no possibility of further delay, and that it
depends on a single day and single action whether progress is to be lost or
secured. 3. It was in this way that Socrates became the man he was, by attending
to nothing other than reason in everything that he had to deal with. And even if
you’re not yet a Socrates, you ought to live like someone who does in fact wish
to be a Socrates.*

52.1. The first and most necessary area of study in philosophy is the one that
deals with the application of principles, such as, ‘Don’t lie.’ The second deals
with demonstrations, for instance, ‘How is it that we oughtn’t to lie?’ The third
confirms and analyses the other two, for instance, ‘How is this a
demonstration?’ For what is a demonstration, what is logical consequence, what
is contradiction, what is truth, what is falsehood? 2. The third area of study is
necessary, then, because of the second, and the second because of the first, but
the most necessary, and that on which we should dwell, is the first. But we do
the opposite; for we spend our time on the third area of study, and employ all
our efforts on that, while wholly neglecting the first. And so it comes about that
we lie, while having at hand all the arguments that show why we oughtn’t to lie.

53.1. On every occasion we should have these arguments at hand:

Guide me, O Zeus, and thou, O Destiny,

To wheresoever you have assigned me;
I’ll follow unwaveringly, or if my will fails,
Base though I be, I’ll follow nonetheless.*

2. Whoever rightly yields to necessity

We accord wise and learned in things divine.*

3. ‘Well, Crito, if that is what is pleasing to the gods, so be it.’*

4. ‘Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but they cannot harm me.’*
 EXPLANATORY NOTES

The notes to the text are keyed to the books, chapters (i.e. individual
Discourses), and paragraphs of the Discourses, the chapters of the Handbook, or
the numbers of the fragments. All references, if not otherwise identified, are to
the Discourses. References only by paragraph are to the Discourse being
discussed. All dates are AD unless otherwise indicated.

ABBREVIATIONS

D.L. Diogenes Laertius (third century AD philosophical

handbook)
Dobbin R. Dobbin, Epictetus: Discourses Book 1, trans. with
introd. and comm. (Oxford, 1998)
Gill C. Gill, The Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman
Thought (Oxford, 2006)
Inwood B. Inwood, Ethics and Human Action in Early Stoicism
(Oxford, 1985)
Long A. A. Long, Epictetus: A Stoic and Socratic Guide to
Life (Oxford, 2002)
LS A. A. Long and D. N. Sedley, The Hellenistic
Philosophers, 2 vols. (Cambridge, 1987); references
are to sections and passages unless otherwise indicated
Scaltsas and Mason T. Scaltsas and A. S. Mason (eds.), The Philosophy of
Epictetus (Oxford, 2007)

DISCOURSES

PREFATORY LETTER
This letter, written separately by the historian Arrian (c.86–160) to an otherwise
 unknown Lucius Gellius, was attached to the manuscripts of the Discourses in
antiquity. Arrian presents the Discourses virtually as a literal record of
Epictetus’ conversations; we do not know if this is the case or if Arrian has
exercised more creativity in writing them than he claims. See Introd., pp. viii–ix
and n. 3; Dobbin, pp. xx–xxiii; Long, 39–41.

BOOK 1

1.1 For an illustrative reading of this Discourse, see Introd., pp. xxii–xxiii and
nn. 43–4. Most of the figures cited are politicians who faced with
equanimity punishment and ill-treatment by Roman emperors. Two of
them (Thrasea Paetus and Helvidius Priscus) were adherents of Stoicism;
but Epictetus extracts a Stoic message from all these cases. Stoics did not
oppose imperial rule as such but resisted abuse of imperial power,
especially when that made it impossible for other politicians to play their
role honourably: see M. T. Griffin, Seneca: A Philosopher in Politics
(Oxford, 1976; repr. 1992), 363–6; P. A. Brunt, ‘Stoicism and the
Principate’, Papers of the British School at Rome, 43 (1975), 7–35.
1.1.10 Zeus: the father of the gods in the traditional Greek pantheon. Like other
Stoics, Epictetus uses Zeus, God, or ‘the gods’ interchangeably. (There is
no equivalent in Greek for the capitalized ‘God’; ‘God’ or ‘god’ is simply
the singular form of ‘gods’. The capitalized ‘God’ is used in this translation
in line with the normal English convention.) However, Epictetus has a
preference for phrases suggesting monotheism, and is sometimes seen as
having an unusually personal view of divinity, although this view has also
been challenged. Epictetus often presents human rational agency or
autonomy as a god-given faculty. See Introd., pp. xii–xiii, xvii–xix, and
text to nn. 13, 28, 33, 35; also LS 46 and 54 on Stoic ideas on divinity.
1.1.19 Lateranus: Plautus Lateranus, consul designate in 65, was executed for his
role in the Pisonian conspiracy against the emperor Nero.
1.1.20 Epaphroditus: a freedman (ex-slave) who became influential in the reigns
of Nero (54–69) and Domitian (81–96); he owned, but subsequently freed,
Epictetus (see Introd., p. vii and n. 1); we know nothing more about this
incident.
1.1.26 Thrasea: Thrasea Paetus, consul in 56, a prominent opponent of Nero’s
tyranny, was condemned by Nero in 66 and then committed suicide.
1.1.27 Rufus: Musonius Rufus (c.30–c.101), the most famous Roman Stoic
teacher in his day and Epictetus’ teacher, challenges the ethical grounds on
which Thrasea prefers death by suicide to exile. Stoic thinkers regarded
suicide as an ethically valid response to situations in which one could no
longer lead a good human life; but the precise conditions of a justified
suicide were debated by them (LS 66 G–H). The late Roman Republic and
early Empire saw a series of famous suicides, often linked with Stoic
principles: see M. T. Griffin, ‘Philosophy, Cato, and Roman Suicide’,
Greece and Rome, 33 (1986), 64–77, 192–202.
1.1.28 Agrippinus: a Roman senator who joined the Pisonian conspiracy against
Nero in 66, was tried along with Thrasea, and was exiled: his estate in
Aricia lay on his route to exile.
1.2 For an illustrative reading of this Discourse, see Introd., pp. xxiii–xxiv and
nn. 45–7.
1.2.12 Agrippinus: see note on 1.1.28: Florus is unknown. Taking part in musical
or dramatic festivals as a performer (as Nero did) was seen as demeaning
by Roman senators and as inconsistent with the proper conduct of their role
in life.
1.2.18 purple: the senatorial toga (Roman outer garment) was edged by a single
purple stripe, thus distinguishing it from the normal adult toga. Agrippinus
presents the exceptionally courageous response that is required by his
assessment of his ethical character as analogous to this distinctive purple
stripe (see also Helvidius Priscus in 22).
1.2.19 Helvidius Priscus: son-in-law of Thrasea Paetus (see note on 1.1.26), and
praetor in 70; he challenged the authority of Vespasian (emperor 69–79) on
Stoic grounds, and was executed around 75.
1.2.25 genitals: Greek athletes (all male) exercised and performed naked. The
testicles, the mark of his status as a ‘man’ (26), were seen as integrally
linked with from the proper performance of his role as athlete.
1.2.29 beard: the beard, relatively common among Greeks but not Romans, had
been associated with philosophers at Rome since the mid-second century
BC, and Epictetus presents it as inseparable from his philosophical role.
1.2.33 Socrates: famous Greek philosopher (469–399 BC), executed by the
Athenian people because of his philosophical challenges to received
religious and ethical beliefs. He was seen as an important influence on the
evolution of Stoicism, and as one of the very few people who may have
achieved the Stoic ideal state of wisdom. Epictetus gives Socrates a very
prominent role as philosophical exemplar (see Long, ch. 3).
1.2.36 not too bad: translation suggested by Long, 240 n. 7; the alternative
translation ‘not better’ makes less good sense, given Socrates’ exceptional
quality. See also Handbook 51.3.
1.2.37 Milo: a famous Greek athlete (sixth century BC).
1.3.1 children of God: Stoicism regularly presents human beings, by contrast
with non-human animals, as sharing rational agency with God (or the
gods); see note on 1.1.10.


1.3.3 two elements: the contrast between body and mind or reason does not
reflect Stoic psychological theory, according to which the mind is a
physical entity (LS 45 C–D, 53). Epictetus uses the contrast to mark an
ethical distinction between using our rational agency in a way that reflects
the aspiration towards virtue or in the opposite way (3–6); see Long, 158–
62; Gill, 98–100.
1.4 The concept of ethical development is of fundamental importance in
Stoicism, given their belief that all humans are capable of developing
towards complete virtue, or ‘wisdom’. Here, Epictetus focuses on the
individual (rather than social) strand in development, seen as leading to the
recognition that virtue alone is the only thing that is worth pursuing, by
contrast with which other things are ‘matters of indifference’ (or
‘externals’, as Epictetus often puts it). He stresses to his students that
studying Stoic ethical treatises is not just an academic exercise, but is
intended to have a practical effect, namely, helping us to take forward our
ethical development. See Introd., pp. ix–x, xiv–xv, and nn. 5–7, 19–22.
1.4.1 rid himself of desire: this advice reflects the Stoic belief that only virtue
(and not the ‘indifferents’ that are the usual objects of desire) is a proper
object of desire. Since most people, including Epictetus’ students, do not
yet understand fully what virtue is, they should avoid desire for the present
—while still aiming at forming a better understanding of what is truly
desirable. See 4.4.33; Handbook 2.2, 48.3; also Inwood, 119.
1.4.6 Chrysippus: (c.280–c.206 BC), third head of the Stoic school and the main
systematizer of Stoic theory; author of many handbooks (all now lost),
including On Motivation (14), which is relevant to the topic of this
Discourse. Expounding the treatises of Stoic thinkers such as Chrysippus
seems to have formed the main pedagogic activity in Epictetus’ school.
1.4.13 jumping-weights: these were used by athletes to increase the length of a
jump (thrown by the jumper in mid-air), and to develop muscles in
training, which is referred to here.
1.4.16 five denarii: the price of an inexpensive book.
1.4.24 My dear Crito: Plato, Crito 43d; also cited in 1.29.18, 4.4.21; Handbook
53.3. Socrates’ equanimity in the face of imprisonment and execution (by
hemlock poisoning: 14.23) is compared favourably with the passionate
grief of figures in Greek epic and tragedy such as Priam and Oedipus (25);
on tragedy, see, further, 1.28.
1.4.29 benefactor: i.e. Chrysippus.


1.4.30 Triptolemus: the Greek mythical inventor of the plough and the first to sow
grain.
1.5 There were two main branches of Scepticism (which denied the possibility
of achieving knowledge) in antiquity, the Academic Sceptics and the
Pyrrhonists (see LS 68–72). A typical Sceptic argument was denial of the
difference between what is seen in dreams and in real life (6–7). In fact, the
main target of this Discourse is not so much Scepticism as such but various
mental attitudes, including Sceptical ones, that prevent someone from
listening to reason. Epictetus seems most interested in the kind of ingrained
defectiveness of character that holds one back from listening to good
ethical advice and trying to improve (3, 5, 8–9).
1.6.1 providence: the belief that the natural universe was purposive and
providentially shaped, rather than randomly formed, was maintained by
Stoics as well as a number of other ancient philosophers, including Plato
and Aristotle, though it was denied by the Epicureans (see LS 54; contrast
LS 13). See D. Sedley, Creationism and its Critics in Antiquity (Berkeley,
2007).
1.6.10 constitution: rationality, exemplified here by the capacity for rational
inference, was seen by Stoics as a distinctive capacity of (adult) human
beings, by contrast with non-human animals. Subsequently, Epictetus
stresses, rather, the distinctively human capacity for reflective
understanding (12–22). This idea is linked with the initial claim about
providence by suggesting that humans are uniquely capable of
understanding the providential order in the universe (19–22). See Inwood,
ch. 2.
1.6.23 Phidias: the huge gold-and-ivory statue of Zeus by the fifth-century BC
sculptor Phidias was included in the Seven Wonders of the World in
antiquity.
1.6.32 Heracles: a famous, semi-divine hero in Greek myth; the Labours of
Heracles consisted largely of ridding the world of monsters and wicked
men. Along with Odysseus (and philosophers such as Socrates and
Diogenes the Cynic), he was sometimes seen as embodying the Stoic ideal
of wisdom, as indicated in 34.


1.6.37 ‘Bring on me … may happen’: the human capacity to endure misfortune is

presented as one of the distinctively human capacities provided by a
divinely shaped universe (37–43).
1.7 Logic (or dialectic) formed one of the three main branches of philosophy in
the Stoic curriculum; it continued to be important in Stoicism in the early
Imperial period, and Epictetus is a prime source for logic in this period: see
J. Barnes, Logic in the Imperial Stoa (Leiden, 1997), ch. 3, also appendix
(on 1.7); P. Crivelli, ‘Epictetus and Logic’, in Scaltsas and Mason.
Epictetus’ attitude to logic is quite complex. Sometimes, as here, he
stresses the inherent importance of logic as an exercise of human
rationality and as a component in making progress towards complete
wisdom (for this as a standard Stoic idea, see LS 33 B–D; Long, Stoic
Studies (Cambridge, 1996), ch. 4); see also 1.17, 2.25. Elsewhere, he
emphasizes that logic is only of value if it is integrated with ethics as part
of the search for a good human life (1.18, 2.23.41; Handbook 52).
1.7.17 If the premisses remain: here, the reference is to premisses that are time-
dependent and no longer valid as the argument proceeds (over time).


1.7.32 Rufus: Musonius Rufus, Epictetus’ Stoic teacher; the Capitol was one of
the main political buildings in Rome (it burnt down twice in 69 and 80,
during the period in which he may have been studying with Musonius).
1.8 see note on 1.7. The focus here is on the idea that training in dialectic
(which, in Stoicism, included both formal logic and rhetoric), while
valuable, has its dangers. It can distract us from trying to take forward our
ethical development and can encourage students to take undue pride in
acquiring these skills (5–10). The fact that Plato was a master of verbal
expression, both logical and rhetorical, does not mean that such skill is an
essential part of being a philosopher (11–16).
1.8.1–3 enthymemes: these are incomplete forms of syllogistic reasoning,
commonly used in rhetorical contexts.
1.8.11 Plato: c.429–347 BC, famous Greek philosopher, whose many dialogues
show a mastery of dialectical and rhetorical skill.
Hippocrates: fifth-century BC founder of Greek medicine, traditionally
regarded as the author of many treatises, of which some show skill in
argumentation or style.


1.8.14 if I could be counted: Epictetus refers to his own lameness, while modestly
disowning the status of being a philosopher.
1.9 Epictetus explores a series of ideas centred on the capacity for rational
agency and autonomy that human beings have in common with gods (or
the divine principle in nature). One is the idea of the universe as a
community or city shared by gods and humans (1–7; cf. LS 57 F(3), 67 L).
Another is that our possession of rationality enables us to escape from
subjection to bodily needs (1.9.8–15, 26), and to cope with adverse
circumstances (18–21, 27–34), by understanding that all we really need for
happiness depends on us, and not on acquiring ‘indifferents’. Socrates’
attitude is taken as exemplary in this respect (16–17, 22–24).
1.9.16 You must wait for God: this refers to Plato, Phaedo 61b–62e, where
Socrates presents suicide as a crime against God, unless we are given a
signal that death is necessary. In general, Stoics thought that suicide was
sometimes a justified response to a situation in which one could no longer
lead a good human life (LS 66G–H); but the suicide should not be ‘without
proper reason’, as Epictetus puts it (17).
1.9.24 abandon it: this paraphrases Plato, Apology 29c, 28d–e, where Socrates
insists he will persist in his ‘divine mission’ of philosophizing even at the
risk of death.


1.9.28 happened to me: this incident, and the exchange between Musonius Rufus
and the young Epictetus in 29–32, illustrate that human beings can (and
should) respond to adversity by recognizing that the pathway to happiness
lies in their own hands, not those of others.
1.10 This Discourse takes its starting point from a long-standing debate in
Graeco-Roman intellectual life about the respective merits of the practical
(or active) and the theoretical life. Epictetus begins by recalling the case of
an older man who, when back in the hurly-burly of Rome, could not
maintain his resolution to devote himself to the contemplative, rather than
practical, life (2–6). Then, in line with earlier Stoic thinking on this topic,
he insists that philosophy is just as much a form of action as business or
politics, and deserves just as much energy and application, among the
young as well as the old (7–13).


1.10.8 due to read over in my lessons: this passage, along with other evidence,
indicates the normal practice in Stoic, and other, philosophical schools in
this period; the teacher and his students would discuss and explain a given
text, e.g. a treatise by Chrysippus (see 1.4).
1.11 This Discourse is relatively unusual in presenting a full-scale dialogue
between Epictetus and a fully characterized interlocutor, an anxious father
who could not bear to stay at his daughter’s bedside during her illness. The
dialogue is closely based on the Socratic method of elenchus (systematic
refutation by cross-examination), which is presented in many early Platonic
dialogues (5–26; see also Long, 77–8). The later part of the dialogue (27–
38) focuses on an idea often seen as central for Socratic, as well as Stoic,
psychology, namely, that people always act in line with their beliefs about
what is for the best, even when they see themselves as overwhelmed by
their passions. See Plato, Protagoras 355a–357e; 1.18.1; Handbook 42;
also T. Brennan, ‘Stoic Moral Psychology’, in B. Inwood (ed.), The
Cambridge Companion to the Stoics (Cambridge, 2003), ch. 10, esp. 265–
9. The refutation of the father centres on the idea that a course of action
cannot be natural unless it is also rational (8, 17–18), and on leading him to
see that his response in abandoning his daughter was not rational, and is
therefore not natural (24–6). The dialogue presupposes central Stoic ideas,
that parental love is a prime expression of the natural human desire to
benefit others, and that this desire is appropriately expressed in engagement
in family and communal roles and relationships (LS 57 E–F; also Introd., p.
xv and n. 20).
1.11.28 precise explanation: Epictetus might have various points of Stoic theory
in mind here, including their belief that most human emotions are based on
false judgements about value and lead to confused and contradictory states
of mind. See LS 65; Brennan, ‘Stoic Moral Psychology’ (cited in note to
1.11), 269–74; Gill, 251–60.


1.11.31 Achilles … Patroclus: Achilles’ intense grief for his dead friend Patroclus
in Homer, Iliad 18, had been criticized in Plato, Republic 388a–b.
1.12 This Discourse centres on the idea that ‘following God’ (often taken in
Greek philosophy as a formula for the goal of human life) consists in
accepting things that happen to us as the inevitable result of divine
providential power. This is not an abandonment of freedom; true freedom
lies not in wishing for whatever we want to happen, but in rational
acceptance of what does happen and exercising our god-given ability for
rational agency in things that fall within our power (9–12, 15, 32–5). See
Introd., p. xvii and nn. 28–30.
1.12.1–3 With regard to the gods: the survey in 1–3 outlines possible ancient
positions rather than specifying the ideas of different schools. However, the
ideas are usually seen as those of (1) atheists (a rare view in antiquity), (2)
Epicureans, (3) Aristotle; (4) and (5) may be Stoic, though (5) was also
sometimes ascribed to Socrates.
1.12.3 ‘Not a movement … escapes you’: quotation from Homer, Iliad 10.279–80,
Odysseus speaking to his patron god, Athena.
1.12.13 Dion: (and Theon) are often used as stock names in Greek philosophy.


1.12.23 Socrates: in Plato’s Crito, Socrates is presented as refusing to be helped to

escape from prison and, in Phaedo 98d–99a, he accepts his imprisonment,
even while regarding his sentence as unjustified.
1.13 The title and opening of this Discourse stresses the Stoic idea that all
aspects of human life, including eating one’s meals, give scope for acting
virtuously or badly. However, most of the passage focuses on proper
treatment of slaves. It reflects the Stoic view that the institution of slavery
is a matter of convention or law, and that in reality all human beings are
equal in their possession of reason. As elsewhere in Stoic writings, this
leads to the advice to treat slaves humanely rather than advocacy of the
abolition of slavery.


1.13.5 laws of the dead: formal laws are treated as relating only to the body, or the
‘corpse’, as Epictetus sometimes puts it (1.19.9), not the mind or reason
shared by all human beings.
1.14 Epictetus supports the idea of divine omniscience by referring to the Stoic
doctrine that all natural processes are permeated by God (identified with
the ‘active cause’ in nature; LS 46 A–C, 47 O–R) (1–6). He also argues
that if human minds can grasp many ‘impressions’ (perceptions and
thoughts) at once, God will be able to do the same on a cosmic scale (7–9).
Human beings share with God the possession of rationality, the basis of
moral agency; this is presented as a divinity, or ‘guardian spirit’ (daimōn)
(for this idea, see LS 63 C(3–4), based on Chrysippus).


1.14.10 shadow of the earth: i.e. the part of the earth covered by night at any one
time.
1.15 Epictetus advises those having difficulties in interpersonal relationships to
focus on what lies within their own agency, rather than responding with
anger, which is a misguided emotion, according to Stoicism (LS 65 E).
Philosophy can help each person aim to bring the ‘ruling centre’ (or mind)
into accordance with nature, that is, to achieve virtue (LS 63 A–C;
1.14.3–4), although the progress towards virtue naturally takes time;
indeed, perhaps a lifetime (7–8).
1.16 Another discussion of divine providence (see 1.6), with some new
elements. The fact that other animals do not need clothing and shoes shows
divine providential care for humans, since we do not need to provide this
for them (1–6). Also, the decorative features of human bodies, such as the
presence or absence of a beard, serve a providential function by
differentiating the genders (10–14). An appropriate response to divine
providence is to celebrate it in philosophical discourse, which is a kind of
hymn (15–21), like the Stoic ‘Hymn to Zeus’ of the second Stoic head,
Cleanthes (LS 54 I). On the Stoic anthropocentric view of divine
providence implied here, see LS 54 N, P, 57 F(7); also R. Sorabji, Human
Minds and Animal Morals (London, 1993), ch. 10; D. Sedley, Creationism
and its Critics in Antiquity (Berkeley, 2007), 231–8.
1.17 In this Discourse, couched as a dialogue between Epictetus and an
unspecified interlocutor, the main focus is on the idea of the self-
sufficiency of human reason. Epictetus begins with a formally conducted
argument that the only thing that can analyse reason is reason itself (1–3),
and then presents logic as the proper vehicle for this process of analysis (6–
12). He also criticizes the tendency to rely on interpreters (even
philosophical interpreters such as Chrysippus), rather than on our own
judgement (13–18). All that interpretation (for instance, by means of
divination) can show is a truth we could find out for ourselves, namely, that
we have an inalienable, god-given capacity for rational agency (20–9). On
the latter theme, see Introd., pp. xii–xiv.
1.17.6 logic: in fact, we find various orders of subjects in the Stoic curriculum,
suggesting that there was no fixed order (LS 26 B–E), and Epictetus
sometimes presents logic as the last subject to be tackled (e.g. 3.2.5–6).
1.17.11 Cleanthes: the first three heads of the Stoic school were Zeno (334–262),
Cleanthes (331–232), and Chrysippus (c.280–206) (all BC).
1.17.12 Antisthenes (c.450–360 BC), a follower of Socrates; for his stress on
definition in education, see D.L. 6.17.
Socrates: as presented in Plato’s early dialogues, his enquiries focused on
the definition of terms, especially the nature of the virtues; see also
Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.1.16.
1.17.14 all … do wrong … against their will: one of the famous paradoxical ideas
associated with Socrates (e.g. Plato, Protagoras 395d; Xenophon,
Memorabilia 3.9.5), adopted by Stoicism; see also 1.18, 1.28.
1.7.16 in Latin: the most widely spoken language in the Roman Empire, so
Epictetus could ask almost anyone for help in interpretation.


1.17.20 entrails: examining the entrails of sacrificial victims was a standard

means of establishing the will of the gods (e.g. whether they were
favourable to the sacrifice or not) in Greek and Roman religious practice.
1.18 This Discourse explores the implications of the Stoic theory of value for
interpersonal relations. All people aim at what they think is beneficial for
them (1–2), and wrongdoing is a matter of error, like being blind or deaf in
one’s mind; so we should pity such people rather than being angry at them
(10). If we are angry, this shows that we are attaching value to external
things, such as clothes or household items, rather than our own state of
mind and character (11–17). We should train ourselves, like an athlete,
with a view to becoming invincible to challenges of all kinds to our good
character (18–23). Epictetus assumes Stoic thinking on human psychology
and emotions (see T. Brennan, ‘Stoic Moral Psychology’, in B. Inwood
(ed.), The Cambridge Companion to the Stoics (Cambridge, 2003), 265–
74). Epictetus develops the implications of this theory for our attitudes to
other people (see also 1.28), followed by Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 2.1,
5.28 (see Long, 250–2).
1.18.9 pity … rather than hate: pity is generally seen by Stoics as a (misguided)
emotion or passion; but here pity is presented as a generalized and rational
response to human error and thus justified.


1.18.15 iron lamp: see also 1.29.31. This anecdote made Epictetus’ lamp quite
famous, and it was later sold as a souvenir of the philosopher for 3,000
drachmas (a large sum: see Dobbin, 171)—which showed a quite different
attitude to material possessions from the one Epictetus was recommending!
1.19 Here, Epictetus argues that we can be impervious to the power of tyrants
and other powerful people once we realize that their power does not extend
to what is really important, our state of mind and ethical character (see
1.1.21–5; 1.29.5–8). It is natural to pursue what we see as beneficial for us;
this is basic to the Stoic idea of natural development (conceived as
‘appropriation’, or ‘attachment’, oikeiōsis, 15), although this is also
compatible with the (equally natural) desire to benefit other people (12–
13). However, it is when we make mistakes about the real nature of what
benefits us that we attach value to powerful people and trivial things such
as political status (16–29). On Epictetus’ special interest in the doctrine of
development as ‘appropriation’, including the interplay between the
personal and social strands of this process, see Introd., pp. xv–xvi and nn.
22–3.
1.19.6 Fever: there were three temples to Fever in Rome; prayer to Fever was
designed to make one immune from it.
1.19.11 sun … for its own sake: the sun and other heavenly bodies were conceived
as living divinities in Stoicism; the sun nourished itself by drawing in air
and fire in its movement across the sky (Dobbin, 180).
1.19.12 Rain-giver and Fruit-bringer: Stoics appeal to such stock epithets of Zeus
as proof that gods benefit other inhabitants of the universe (on Stoic
theology, see LS 54).
1.19.17 Felicio: a common name for a slave or (here) freedman.
1.19.24 tribune: an important Roman political magistrate.


1.19.26 priesthood of Augustus: in Roman culture, priesthoods were public or

political appointments. Augustus (63 BC–AD 14), first emperor of Rome,
was deified after his death and had a continuing cult, which was especially
important in Nicopolis, a city he founded, after his victory at nearby
Actium in 31 BC.
1.20 This Discourse begins with some of Epictetus’ favourite themes, that
reason examines itself and that the capacity to examine our impressions is a
crucial function of reason (1–6; see also 1.1.1–13); this is compared with
the assayer’s skill in testing the validity of coins (7–10). Epictetus stresses
that this process of examination is necessarily a long and demanding one,
in part because of the many different views put forward about the proper
goal (telos) of a human life, which are presented here as arguments about
our essence or most important part (13–17). He focuses on Epicurus, whose
ethical position was often contrasted to that of Stoicism, since he saw
pleasure, including the pleasure of the body, as constituting human
happiness (LS 21). Epicurus’ real position is much more subtle and
credible than presented here by Epictetus (see Gill, 100–26).
1.21 Here, Epictetus briefly states the common idea (see also 3.23) that adopting
Stoic ethics makes you independent from concern with what other people
think about you, since you realize that achieving what matters depends on
you yourself.


1.21.4 mad: Stoics describe as ‘mad’ or ‘fools’ all those who fall short of being
wise, although, strictly, this includes virtually all of us.
1.22 It was standard Stoic doctrine that all human beings naturally form certain
beliefs, or ‘preconceptions’; this claim forms part of the Stoic defence of
the possibility of knowledge against Sceptics. Epictetus, more unusually,
insists that disagreement results from the application of these shared
preconceptions to particular cases (1–8). He then defines education as
learning how to apply preconceptions properly, for instance, recognizing
that we should only call ‘good’ things that are within our power, and not
‘externals’ (9–16). Although he acknowledges that this restricted account
of ‘good’ will arouse criticism from many people, he ridicules the type of
person who makes this objection (17–21). On preconceptions and
Epictetus’ treatment of the idea, see LS 40 (esp. S) and LS i. 253; also
Dobbin, 188–90; on Stoic ideas of ‘good’ and the contrast with
‘indifferents’, see LS 58, 60.


1.22.5 quarrel … arose: the quarrel between Greek leaders that starts the action of
the whole poem in Homer, Iliad 1, is used as an illustration of Epictetus’
general point.
1.23 Epictetus criticizes Epicurus for failing to acknowledge the natural human
instinct to benefit others, including family and community. The root cause
of Epicurus’ mistake is, he suggests, his core claim that pleasure, including
bodily pleasure, is the human good (1; see also 1.20.17). Although
Epictetus’ critique has some basis in comments made by Epicurus
expressing caution about familial and political involvement, Epictetus
caricatures the Epicurean view, presenting it as systematically antisocial.
Epictetus judges Epicurus by reference to the Stoic thesis that the desire to
benefit others and to engage in familial and communal life forms a natural
part of human development (see Introd., p. xv). For a fuller and more
nuanced account of Epicurean thinking on society, see LS 22; E. Brown,
‘Politics and Society’, in J. Warren (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to
Epicureanism (Cambridge, 2009); also Dobbin, 194–200.


1.23.10 exposed: the infanticide of unwanted (or defective) newborn children was
not normally seen as criminal in antiquity.
1.24 Cynicism, a philosophical movement advocating a simple life (following
nature, not convention) founded by Diogenes (mid-fourth century BC),
influenced Stoicism from its origins. Epictetus often presents Diogenes as
an exemplar of the ideal wise person. Here, he stresses that the austere
lifestyle and indifference to loss of possessions and status recommended by
Cynicism represent a model for Stoics to follow too. See 3.22; also W.
Desmond, Cynics (Stocksfield, 2008); M. Schofield, ‘Epictetus on
Cynicism’, in Scaltsas and Mason, esp. 75–80 on the ‘scouting’ metaphor
in 3, 6.
1.24.11 oil-flask … knapsack: typical simple possessions of the itinerant Cynic,
but also typical normal ‘hand-luggage’ of any ancient traveller.
1.24.12 toga: the Roman outer garment, with broad purple hem for senators,
narrow hem for equestrians (wealthy citizens, the next class down from
senators), and plain for other citizens.
1.24.16 ‘Hang the palace … receive me?’: the first line is from an unknown
tragedy; the second is line 1390 from Sophocles’ Oedipus the King (see
‘Oedipus’ in 18).


1.24.20 door stands open: for suicide (see note on 1.1.27).

1.25 Epictetus explores the implications of the key Stoic claim, that good and
bad fall within what is up to us, whereas everything else is a matter of
indifference (1). He maintains that recognizing the force of this claim
renders more detailed instructions unnecessary (3–6). Life is compared to a
game; what matters is playing the game well, even if the rules are dictated
by forces outside our control (7–11). Similarly in logic, even if the
hypotheses or premisses are set by others, it is up to us to decide what
inferences we accept (11–13). It is also up to us how long we remain within
the game of life, since suicide is always an option (18–25). Typically, the
difficulties we experience in life derive from the false value we place on
externals (26–31).
1.25.8 Saturnalia: a Roman festival involving play-acting and the election of a
‘king’ to preside over the festival.
1.25.10 Briseis: another reference to the quarrel at the start of Homer’s Iliad (see
also 1.22.5–8).
1.25.13 another: i.e. Zeus (see 3), who has given us choice that cannot be
compelled.
1.25.20 Gyara: an island in the Aegean used as a place of exile in the early Roman
Empire.


1.25.27 senators: in Roman theatres, senators had special seats at the front of the
audience.
1.26 This is another Discourse on the importance of training in logic as a basis
for living a good life (see 1.7, 1.8, 1.17). Logic offers us a neutral context
for learning to reason correctly, which can then be applied to the more
difficult area of ethical life (3–4, 10, 14, 17).
1.26.5 parents: the arguments in 5–7 are designed to show that training in logic is
needed to address the question what constitutes a useful education.
1.26.13 student: evidently, in Epictetus’ school a student might be set a task by
another, more senior, student; Epictetus suggests that both of them have
shown different weaknesses in reasoning.


1.26.18 unexamined life: see Plato, Apology 38a.

1.27 It is difficult to determine which of our impressions (perceptions and
thoughts) are true, and this leads some thinkers to adopt a Sceptical
position (1–2). However, Epictetus urges us to tackle this problem by
counteracting plausible (but false) ethical ideas with ones that are better
grounded, thus avoiding the passions that stem from misguided beliefs (3–
14). Tackling the arguments of the Sceptics against common sense is a
challenge that Epictetus declines; their claims are contrary to plain facts,
and there are more pressing (ethical) problems to address (15–21).
1.27.2 Pyrrhonists and Academics: the main Sceptic schools in ancient thought
(see 1.27.15 and 1.5; also LS 68–72).


1.27.8 Sarpedon: this passage paraphrases Homer, Iliad 12.322–8.

1.28 The main focus here is on the idea that we should examine our
‘impressions’ as carefully in ethical questions as in factual ones (1–6), and
try to establish sound criteria and apply them appropriately (28–33). When
people go wrong in their impressions (Epictetus cites notable cases from
Greek tragedy and epic), we should not be angry with them but pity and
correct them (7–13; see note on 1.18). We also need to recognize that the
true ‘tragedy’ in such cases is the original ethical mistake and not the
material destruction and loss of life that results (14–27, 31–2). See also A.
A. Long, Stoic Studies (Cambridge, 1996), 277–81; Long, 76–7.
1.28.7 master of my plans: Euripides, Medea 1078–9, lines often read as showing
akrasia (giving way to emotions against one’s better judgement), but
interpreted by the Stoics as showing bad judgement in the face of
competing ethical claims. See C. Gill, ‘Did Chrysippus Understand
Medea?’, Phronesis, 28 (1983), 136–49; Gill, 258–9.
1.28.13 Odyssey too: the seduction of Helen, wife of Menelaus (king of Sparta in
Greece), by Paris, prince of Troy, caused the Trojan War, which forms the
background of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey.
1.28.24 to make war: Epictetus summarizes key incidents in the plot of Homer’s
Iliad, especially Achilles’ anger with Agamemnon at the seizure of his
prize-bride Briseis (books 1 and 9), and his grief at the resulting death of
his close friend Patroclus (book 17).


1.28.32 Hippolytus: Epictetus refers to fifth-century Athenian tragedies, of which

we still have two plays by Sophocles called Oedipus (probably Oedipus the
King is meant), and Euripides’ Hippolytus, though the other two named are
lost.
1.29 This is the longest Discourse in Book 1 and the fourth longest in all four
books. The main theme is that what really matters in human life is within
our power and that what other people have power over, such as our body
and life, are matters of relative indifference. Socrates is taken as an
exemplar whose actions and attitudes express this idea (1–29, including
16–21 on Socrates). This does not mean we should necessarily identify
ourselves fully with our situation; we should see our specific context or
role as providing the vehicle of progress towards virtue (33–49). Epictetus
concedes that not everyone will accept these principles, although this does
not invalidate them (30–2, 64–6).
1.29.18 so be it: paraphrase of Plato, Apology 30c and Crito 43d (on the
significance of Socrates for Epictetus, see Long, ch. 3).
1.29.21 my lamp: see 1.18.15.
1.29.31 Saturnalia: see note on 1.25.8.
1.29.41 masks, and high boots, and robes: Epictetus uses the standard costume of
Greek tragedy to make the point that we should not identify ourselves
unreflectively with our role and context.


1.29.66 a child: Epictetus refers to Plato’s depiction of Socrates’ calm response to

his impending death by hemlock poisoning (see Phaedo 116d, 117d).
1.30 Epictetus restates his usual emphasis on the idea that human agency is
invulnerable to external circumstances by presenting a dialogue with God
(the ‘another’ in 1, as in 1.25.13). The dialogue stresses that learning this
lesson in school will be invaluable for Epictetus’ students in the rigours of
future life.
 BOOK 2

2.1 Epictetus argues that if we recognize the importance of focusing on what is

‘up to us’, this will make us cautious about things that fall within our
choice and confident about things that do not, such as death—which is the
reverse of the conventional way of thinking about such things (1–20). The
second half maintains (partly through dialogue form) that true freedom is
freedom from misguided passions such as fear (21–9; see also 4.1), and
that the aim of philosophical study should be to gain the kind of caution
and confidence that the Discourse recommends.
2.1.8 the nets: beaters used to drive deer into nets by stretching a rope with
brightly coloured feathers across openings in the woods.
2.1.13 ‘To die … dishonour’: a verse from tragedy of unknown authorship
(Nauck, frag. adesp. 88).
2.1.15 bogeys: a reference to Plato, Phaedo 77e.
2.1.19 stands open: suicide, which was seen by Stoics as a reasonable course of
action under extreme circumstances (see LS 66 G–H).
2.1.26 turned his slave around: this ritual, as well as paying 5 per cent (or ‘a
twentieth’) of the slave’s value in tax, formed part of the legal process of
freeing a slave.


2.1.32 Socrates write: an initially puzzling comment since Socrates (like Epictetus
himself) wrote nothing, though other writers presented his philosophical
dialogues. But Epictetus goes on to explain that by ‘writing’ he means that
Socrates used his characteristic method of systematic, logical cross-
examination (elenchus) on others, or on himself if there was no one else
there. See Long, 73–86, esp. 73, on Epictetus’ use of Socratic method in
the Discourses.
2.2 Epictetus argues that if you keep firmly in mind that what matters
fundamentally is ‘up to us’, you will not be anxious if summoned to court
as a defendant. He takes Socrates as an exemplar, tried in 399 BC for
corrupting the young and for impiety, but presented by Plato and
Xenophon as emotionally undisturbed.
2.2.8 reminded Socrates: this passage is loosely based on Xenophon, Apology 2–
3.


2.2.15 Anytus and Meletus: two of the prosecutors at Socrates’ trial (the reference
is to Plato, Apology 30c). This passage is also referred to in 1.29.18, 3.3.21.
2.3 Epictetus maintains that testing whether a person is good or bad is much
more difficult than testing the validity of coins (such as the Greek silver
coin, the drachma, 2–3), or of logical arguments (syllogisms, 4–5).


2.3.1 Diogenes: the Cynic, often used by Epictetus as a good exemplar, like
Socrates (see also 3.22).
2.4 In Stoic political and social theory we find a combination of radical (or
Cynic) and more conventional strands, and both of these appear also in the
Discourses (see LS 67; Long, 57–64, 233–44). However, here, the
interlocutor, already known as an adulterer (1), cites the more radical Stoic
ideas opportunistically (8–9) to excuse his actions, and his excuses are
briskly rejected by Epictetus.
2.4.8 women common property: an idea found in our evidence for the Republic
of Zeno, founder of Stoicism (LS 67 B(4)) and also in Plato, Republic
457d–464b.
worthy of Socrates: Socrates is presented as taking part in symposia
(similar to modern dinner-parties) by Plato and Xenophon; as Socrates is a
moral exemplar for Epictetus, the comment here is sarcastic.
2.4.9 the citizens: for the idea of the state as a theatre shared by everyone (but
still compatible with the validity of private property), see LS 57 F(7).


2.4.10 Archedemus: either a Stoic philosopher from Tarsus or a commentator on

Aristotle’s Rhetoric, but in either case not a well-known writer.
2.5 This Discourse discusses a central theme in Stoic ethics: that what matters,
ultimately, in human life is not obtaining so-called good things such as
health and property (in Stoic terms, ‘indifferents’) but doing so in a way
that is compatible with acting virtuously. The project of trying to live a
virtuous life is compared with playing a game well, even if we cannot
determine the outcome of the game. Although it is natural for us to prefer
health to disease, a broader understanding of the place of humanity in
nature should lead us to accept that illness and death are also integral parts
of living a complete human life. See LS 58, 64; also Introd., pp. xiv–xv and
nn. 19, 22.
2.5.18 Socrates: the following passage paraphrases Plato, Apology 27a–e, in
which Socrates challenges one of his prosecutors (Anytus) about the
accusation of impiety made against him. Socrates’ bravery in court is taken
to show that he knows how to play the game of life well even in extreme
circumstances.


2.5.24 the foot: for this image, which goes back to Chrysippus, a leading third-
century BC theorist of Stoicism, see also 2.6.10, 2.10.4.
2.6 The theme here is similar to 2.5, though with greater stress on the
(apparently) negative circumstances we may have to accept as the
consequence of trying to lead a virtuous human life.
2.6.9 Chrysippus: see note on 2.5.24.
2.6.15 Chrysantas: see Xenophon, Cyropaedeia 4.1.3. By stopping his hand in
response to the order to retreat, he consciously left himself open to a
counter-attack by his intended victim.


2.6.26 emulating Socrates: according to Plato, Phaedo 60d–61b, Socrates wrote

hymns in prison in response to a dream while awaiting his execution.
2.7 Some Stoics argued for the validity of divination (prophesying the future
by examining the livers of sacrificial victims or by the behaviour of birds),
on the ground that it was compatible with the Stoic theory of divine
providence and determinism (LS 42 C–E). However, Epictetus takes a
robustly ethical, and equally Stoic, attitude to divination, maintaining that
divination cannot establish what is really good or bad, which depends on
the exercise of rational choice (see 1.17.18–24).


2.7.8 Gratilla: the wife of a Roman senator, exiled by Domitian, emperor 81–96,
generally regarded as tyrannical in his behaviour.
2.8 This Discourse treats the idea that human beings are (potentially) good in a
way that non-human animals are not, because they alone have the capacity
for reason, which is shared with gods. This is a standard Stoic theme (cf.
LS 54 N–P, 63 D–E); but Epictetus gives special emphasis to the idea that
our reason is an internal god (11–14; see also Long, 142–7).
2.8.18 Phidias: a famous fifth-century BC sculptor who designed images of Athena
for the Parthenon in Athens, and Zeus for Olympia, the latter holding a
symbol of victory (20).


2.8.26 never deceives: spoken by Zeus in Homer, Iliad 1.526.

2.9 The first part of this Discourse (1–12) develops the theme of 2.8, that to try
to act virtuously is to express our distinctively human nature. The second
part (13–22) stresses that being a Stoic is not just an academic exercise, but
a matter of embedding Stoic ethical principles in your life and character.
2.9.8 complex proposition: logical propositions only fulfil their function when
they are taken as a whole; and the same applies to the ethical life of human
beings (9–10).
2.9.20 baptized: this might suggest that Epictetus has Christians in mind (with
whom Jews were often confused at this time), but both Jews and Christians
used baptism as an initiation ritual.


2.9.22 rock of Ajax: in Homer, Iliad 7.264, Ajax used a large rock to beat down
Aeneas.
2.10 The first theme here (1–13) is that we should conceive our ethical life as
combining the role of a human being (a rational and potentially virtuous
agent) with our specific social or family role; for this Stoic idea, see 1.2
and Cicero, On Obligations 1.107–25; also Long, 232–44. The second
theme is that loss of good ethical character or virtue is the only real loss,
and is a harm that we impose on ourselves.
2.11 The Stoics believed that all human beings naturally form ‘preconceptions’
(prolēpseis) about fundamental ideas such as good, which provide the basis
for forming a true understanding of these ideas. Disagreements between
different people about these notions (13) are taken by Sceptics as showing
that knowledge of the truth cannot be found. Epictetus, however, explains
disagreement as stemming from the failure to apply our preconceptions
appropriately in specific cases (7–12). The role of philosophy is to help us
to examine these ideas systematically and form a true understanding of
them (which, for Epictetus, means rejecting the Epicurean conception of
what is good) (13–24). See also 1.22; LS 40 N–T; Long, 79–80, 102–3.
2.12 Epictetus takes Socrates as his model of how to engage people in argument
in a way that enables them to reflect usefully on how they should live. As
well as referring explicitly to Xenophon’s Symposium (15), the Discourse
alludes to Plato’s Gorgias 474a, 472c (5). It also refers to Socrates’ method
of systematic cross-examination (6–11) and to the theme that we should
only rely on the judgement of someone who has moral expertise (17–24;
see Plato, Crito 47–8; Protagoras 312–13). See also Long, 86–9.


2.12.16 ‘With sure skill … a great quarrel’: quotes Hesiod, Theogony 87.
2.13 Epictetus claims that if anyone exhibits anxiety, this shows that he has not
realized that what matters fundamentally is ‘up to us’, and does not depend
on other people (10–11). Recognizing this fact enables us to confront
anyone, however powerful, without anxiety, a point illustrated by the way
in which certain philosophers behaved in their encounters with important
rulers.
2.13.2 lyre-player: the lyre (kithara) was played by singers to accompany their
songs, like a modern guitar.
2.13.13 ‘Shift … other’: Homer, Iliad 13.281.
2.13.14 Zeno … Antigonus: Zeno was the founder of Stoicism, and Antigonus a
third-century BC king of Macedon, which dominated Greece at that time.
For this incident, see D.L. 7.6.
2.13.24 as a slave: this passage refers to Socrates’ bravery in defying the Thirty
Tyrants, who governed Athens in 404–3 BC (see Plato, Apology 32c–e) and
in his trial and in prison (shown in Plato’s Apology, Crito, and Phaedo). It
also refers to the indomitable attitude shown by Diogenes the Cynic in
confronting Philip and Alexander (rulers of Macedon in the late fourth
century BC), and the pirates who captured him (see D.L. 6.38, 43, 74).


2.13.26 ‘In you … state’: a verse quotation of unknown origin.

2.14 This Discourse is presented as being spoken to Naso (perhaps the Julius
Naso mentioned in Pliny’s Letters 4.6, 5.21, 6.6, 6.9), a man who is
experienced in warfare and politics but not philosophy (17–18). The first
part offers an overview of key Stoic themes in ethics and the interface
between ethics and the study of nature (7–13), while the latter part refers to
Stoic ideas about divine providence (25–7) (see Introd., p. xvi–xvii and nn.
28–30).


2.14.23 festival: versions of this comparison, which was traced back to the fifth-
century thinker Pythagoras, are common in Hellenistic and Roman thought;
Epictetus uses it to underline the idea of divine providence (see also
1.6.19–21).
2.15 This rather straightforward Discourse maintains that tenacity of purpose is
only admirable if the original decision is well judged. Epictetus alludes to
some recurrent Stoic themes: that suicide can be reasonable under certain
circumstances (6; see LS 66 G–H); that virtue expresses itself in
consistency of judgement and character (1–2; see LS 61 A); and that virtue
or wisdom is like health, or ‘good tone or sinew’, whereas folly is like
sickness, or ‘bad tone or sinew’ (2–3, 15–17, 20; see also LS 65 R–T).
2.16 Epictetus here offers extended treatment of his recurrent theme that what
matters fundamentally is ‘up to us’, rather than ‘externals’ (see Introd., p.
xii–xiii and n. 14).
2.16.17 slept in a temple: ‘incubation’ with the hope of having a prophetic vision
or dream was a common Greek and Roman religious practice, especially in
the cult of Asclepius, god of healing; for Epictetus’ criticism of divination,
see note on 2.7.
2.16.30 Dirce … Marcian aqueduct: the fountain of Dirce was in Thebes (in
Greece), and the Marcian aqueduct brought water to Rome.
2.16.31 ‘The baths … Marcian water’: this is a parody of Euripides, Phoenician
Women 368.
2.16.33 pieces of stone and a pretty rock: refers to the Acropolis at Athens, and
the Parthenon temple (see 32).
2.16.44 Heracles: the Greek hero performed his famous twelve labours at the
command of King Eurystheus, who remained safely in his palace. Stoics
used mythical heroes such as Heracles as prototypes of the wise person’s
wish to benefit humanity by virtuous action (e.g. Cicero, On Ends 3.66).


2.16.45 Procrustes or Sciron: robbers punished by the Athenian hero Theseus.

2.17 The main theme of this Discourse is that logic (or dialectic) can be helpful
in taking forward our ethical progress, but only if approached in the right
way and not as an end in itself. In this connection, Epictetus also refers to
the importance of applying our preconceptions correctly (1–14; see also
1.22, 2.11), the three topics of practical ethics (15–16, 31–3), and Medea as
an exemplar of moral error on a grand scale (19–22).
2.17.16 first field: a distinctive feature of Epictetus’ thought is a three-topic
programme of practical ethics. This consists in (1) studying the proper
objects of desire; (2) guiding our motives to action towards appropriate
actions, and (3) examining with care the impressions to which we should
give assent. Logic is seen as especially helpful for the third topic or field.
See also 31–3, 3.2.1–5; Introd., p. xvi and n. 26; Gill, 380–9.
2.17.20 what do I care?: Epictetus presents the decision of Euripides’ Medea
(Medea 791–6, paraphrased here) to kill her own children in revenge
against the husband who had abandoned her as an example of a (massive)
mistake in the first ethical topic, namely, determining the proper object of
desire. Medea was a favourite exemplar of error in Stoic moral theory,
from Chrysippus onwards; see 1.28.7–11; Gill, 258–9; Long, 76–7.
2.17.34 “the Liar”: a famous logical puzzle or paradox (see also 2.18.18,
2.21.17), discussed at length by Chrysippus; see Cicero, Academica 2.95–
6; LS 37 I.
2.17.35–6 Xenophon … Plato … Antisthenes: well-known thinkers and writers of
the fifth and fourth centuries BC. All three wrote Socratic dialogues, and
Epictetus may have in mind comparisons between the different styles of
these dialogues.


2.17.40 Antipater and Archedemus: the former was head of the Stoic school from
c.152 to c.129 BC, and the latter was also a second-century BC Stoic thinker.
2.18 Epictetus stresses the importance of habit in training yourself to make your
responses to experiences (‘impressions’) match your most profound
convictions. An emphasis on habituation is characteristic of Platonic–
Aristotelian, rather than Stoic, ethical thought in this period. But Epictetus
has in view a purely cognitive or rational process, rather than the non-
rational habituation stressed in Platonic–Aristotelian thought: see Gill,
130–8, 144–5.
2.18.17 ‘the Master’: a logical puzzle; see also 2.19.
2.18.18 “the Liar” or “the Silent One”: on ‘the Liar’, see note on 2.17.34; on the
Silent One, see Cicero, Academica 2.93; Sextus Empiricus, Against the
Professors 7.416.
2.18.20–1 ‘Then whenever … wise and virtuous men’: quotation based on Plato,
Laws 854b.
2.18.22 he won: see Plato, Symposium 218a–219c (Socrates rejects the invitation
to make love to the youthful and handsome Alcibiades).
Heracles: traditional founder and first victor at the Olympic Games.
pancratiasts: athletes taking part in an ‘all-in’ boxing and wrestling
competition.
2.18.29 sailors call upon the Dioscuri: i.e. Castor and Pollux, patron gods of
sailors and travellers in general.


2.18.32 ‘One who delays … wrestling with ruin’: quotation from Hesiod, Works
and Days 413.
2.19 Here, Epictetus presents himself as able only to report the complex debate
among earlier Stoic thinkers raised by the ‘Master’ argument (1–4, 8–9; see
LS 38); in this respect he is like a grammatikos (teacher of language and
literature) or literary historian (7–13). But in ethics it is not enough just to
report the views of others; you have to embed the principles in your actions
and attitudes if you are to be a true Stoic and not just a reporter of Stoic
teachings (20–4, 29–34).
2.19.1 Diodorus: Diodorus Cronus, leader of the ‘dialectical’ school of philosophy
(d. 284 BC), who taught Zeno, founder of Stoicism.
2.19.2 Cleanthes … Antipater: heads of the Stoic school in 262–232 BC and
c.152–c.129, respectively.
2.19.5 Panthoides: early third-century BC member of the ‘dialectical’ school
(criticized by Chrysippus).
2.19.7 Hector … Priam … Paris … Deiphobus … Hecuba: those named here are
famous members of the Trojan royal family in Homer’s Iliad.
Hellanicus: a Greek writer on history, myth, and ethnography, c.480–395
BC.
2.19.9 Archedemus: second-century BC Stoic (for the point made, see 2.19.1–6).
2.19.10 island of Calypso: mythical island; see Homer, Odyssey 5.1–268, 7.244–
66.
2.19.13 pleasure, pain: the claim that only virtue is really good is a key principle
of Stoic ethics (LS 58, 60–1).
2.19.14 Diogenes: head of the Stoic school, early to mid-second century BC. The
point is the analogy between merely reporting literary facts and
philosophical ideas (see note on 2.19). The suggestion that these ideas
would really come from Hellanicus is just a joke.
2.19.20 Epicureans … Peripatetics: Epicureans claimed that pleasure, not virtue,
formed the human good, and the Peripatetics, followers of Aristotle,
maintained that things such as health and wealth were goods (not
‘indifferents’ as the Stoics thought) and that they made some contribution
to happiness (LS 21, 24 K–L).


2.19.23 Phidias: see 2.19.26 and note on 2.8.18.

2.20 Epictetus supports the Stoic approach by arguing that both the Academic
Sceptic and Epicurean philosophies are in various ways self-refuting. The
Academic position attacked is that certain knowledge of truth is not
achievable (1–5, 28–35); the Epicurean view attacked is that human beings
do not have an in-built motive to benefit each other (as the Stoics
maintained; LS 57 F) (6–21), and that gods do not provide moral norms
and sanctions for human life (22–7). Epictetus presents a crude caricature
of the other positions: see also 1.5, 1.23; and for better accounts of the
other theories, see LS 22–3, 68–70.
2.20.17 Orestes: he is presented as pursued by the Furies in revenge for his
murder of his mother Clytemnestra (e.g. in Aeschylus, Oresteia).
priests of Cybele: they were supposed to work themselves up into a frenzy
and castrate themselves (see also 19).
2.20.26 Lycurgus: the traditional founder of Sparta’s famously stable and ordered
political system.
Thermopylae: site of a battle in which all three hundred Spartans defending
a mountain pass against the Persians died bravely in 480 BC.
Athenians: the people of Athens twice abandoned their city rather than
surrender to the Persians (480, 479 BC).


2.20.32 Demeter … Persephone … Pluto: these gods are selected here because
Demeter and her daughter Persephone (and also Pluto, god of the
underworld, who keeps Persephone underground in winter) are linked with
the growth of food and seasonal renewal.
2.21 Starting from people’s general reluctance to admit failings that are their
own fault (1–7), Epictetus presents studying philosophy as, fundamentally,
a practical activity, designed to enable someone to become an ethically
better person, though this also depends on studying logic with the proper
attitude (8–22).


2.21.22 your humours: Epictetus’ use of medical language reflects the widespread
idea in this period (adopted especially by the Stoics) that philosophy was a
form of ‘therapy’ for misguided beliefs and emotions, which are presented
as ‘illnesses’ (LS 65 L, O, R–S).
2.22 Epictetus maintains that the only secure basis for stable affection (philia, in
Greek, covers both ‘friendship’ and affectionate feelings for one’s family)
is well-grounded moral understanding. Otherwise, conflict can arise with
one’s family and friends as people pursue what they see as beneficial for
themselves and fail to recognize that what is really beneficial is good for
both parties (18–21, 34–7). See LS 67 P; Introd., pp. xiv–xvi and nn.
19–23; Long, 198–9.
2.22.11 ‘You wish … does not’: quotation from Euripides, Alcestis 691.
2.22.14 Where before … my desire too: quotation from Euripides, Phoenician
Women 621–2. The brothers Eteocles and Polynices fight for rule in
Thebes after their father, Oedipus, blinds himself and goes into exile.
2.22.17 beloved: Hephaestion, Alexander’s close friend, who died on campaign
with him in 324 BC.
2.22.21 ‘the right … common opinion’: not an exact quotation (the closest parallel
we have is Athenaeus 12.547a); see also LS 21 O–P.
2.22.22–3 It was through ignorance … war broke out: Epictetus refers to a series
of historical wars in Greece and the Roman Empire, and then to the
legendary Trojan War, started by the seduction of Menelaus’ wife, Helen,
by Paris (also called Alexander).
2.22.32 came between them: Eriphyle, won over by the bribe of a necklace,
persuaded her husband to join Polynices in his attempt to gain the throne in
Thebes (see note on 2.22.14).


2.22.36 ‘no mind … deprived of the truth’: quotation from Plato, Sophist 228c;
also referred to in 1.28.4.
2.23 Rhetoric (or ‘the faculty of expression’), along with logic, forms part of the
branch of philosophy that the Stoics call dialectic. This Discourse
expresses the standard Stoic view that rhetoric has value, but that it should,
ultimately, be combined with ethics (and physics) to make up complete
virtue (LS 31 B–D; also 26 A–E). Ethical virtue is presented here as the
proper use of the capacity for choice (7–22), as often in the Discourses.
2.23.4 vision can pass through it: the Stoics saw vision and other senses as active,
rather than passive, functions in which pneuma (‘breath’) originates from
the ruling centre, or mind (LS 53 G–H).
2.23.21 On the End … On the Canon: these three works must have been on ethics,
physics, and logic; they do not survive, though we have fragments of On
Nature (which is probably what Epictetus means by Physics).
a philosopher’s beard: see note on 1.2.29.
‘We’re living … a happy one’: quotation from Epicurus’ famous death-bed
letter (LS 24 D). Stoic and Platonic critics of Epicurus claim that the
courage and benevolence expressed in that letter are inconsistent with
Epicurus’ own ethical principles (e.g. Cicero, On Ends 2.98–9; Plutarch,
Moralia 1089F–1090A, 1099D–E).
2.23.32 Thersites … Achilles … Helen: Thersites is described by Homer as
unusually ugly (Iliad 2.216–19), whereas Achilles is presented as an
exemplar of youthful good looks. Helen of Troy was famous for her
exceptional beauty.
2.23.41 Sirens: enchanted women who lured people to their death by the beauty of
their songs (Homer, Odyssey 12.39–54, 158–200).
2.23.42 ‘Guide me … O Destiny’: quotation from Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus; see
also 3.22.95, 4.131, and Handbook 53, which cites three more lines. On the
meaning of these lines for Cleanthes and Epictetus’ use of them, see S.
Bobzien, Determinism and Freedom in Stoic Philosophy (Oxford, 1998),
346–51.


2.23.44 Demosthenes: famous fourth-century BC orator, whose style was presented

as exemplary.
2.24 Epictetus talks in a very critical way to someone whom he regards as
lacking in understanding of what it means to be a good human being (11–
12) and who has no serious interest in listening and responding to sound
teaching on this subject, as is indicated by his words and appearance (4–5,
15–18, 28–9).
2.24.21–3 Why was it … such great cares: quotation from Homer, Iliad 2.25;
paragraphs 21–2 refer to the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles in
Iliad 1.
2.24.26 to silence: this refers to Achilles’ powerful speeches in Homer, Iliad 9.
2.26 For the content, see 2.12, where Socrates’ ability to show people their self-
contradiction is presented as exemplary of philosophical method. 2.26.6 is
close to 2.12.5.
 BOOK 3

3.1 Like 2.24, this is a very critical Discourse, directed at a young man whose
elegant style and smooth skin indicate to Epictetus that he does not
understand what it means to be male, let alone a human being. His point is
not just that the young man does not have, like Epictetus, the beard that is
the mark of a philosopher (24), but that he plucks out his body hair and
makes himself look like a woman or an invert (14, 26–32, 35, 42).
3.2 This Discourse offers a full statement of Epictetus’ three-topic programme
of practical ethics, and restates his standard view that study of philosophy,
including logic, while potentially valuable, is only worthwhile if it leads
towards real-life ethical improvement. See also notes on 2.17, 2.17.16.
3.3 Epictetus’ discussion of ethical training assumes the normal Stoic view that
all human beings have the natural capacity to recognize and respond to
what is good, presented here as a kind of ‘coin’, and to see the lesser value
of other types of ‘coin’ (1–4, 11–13); the key criterion is distinguishing
what is and is not ‘up to us’ (14–15). He also assumes that acting according
to our social or family role is only worthwhile as long as this is compatible
with our understanding of what is good (5–9); see 1.2, 2.10; also Introd.,
pp. xiv–xvi and nn. 19–23; Long, 237–8.
3.4 Epictetus here offers practical advice to a governor about maintaining
impartiality in theatrical competitions (and so avoiding abuse from the
audience), while also suggesting the key Stoic theme that we should focus
on keeping what is up to us in harmony with nature rather than trying to
ensure the success of other people in competitions (9–11).
3.5 Epictetus responds to someone (presumably a student) who wants to go
home because he is ill by saying that the important thing, whether well or
ill, is to press on with trying to become a better person, as Socrates did and
urged others to do.
3.6 This is a collection of short passages on familiar themes, rather like those
in the Handbook.
3.7 As elsewhere, Epictetus offers a crude and simplistic view of Epicurean
ethics, assuming that their claim that pleasure is the highest good rules out
virtuous actions and attitudes and other-benefiting motives (see note on
1.23). The generalized contrast between goods of the body and goods of
the mind (2–10) ignores the fact that, for both Stoics and Epicureans, the
 mind was a bodily entity; see LS 16, 53; also Gill, 29–66.
3.8 Epictetus offers concrete illustrations of how we can train ourselves to
examine impressions and to avoid describing things as ‘good’ or ‘bad’
unless they fall in the category of what is ‘up to us’ (see Introd., pp.
xiii–xiv and nn. 14–16).
3.9 Epictetus tries to explain what his philosophical teaching can offer to
someone who is only superficially interested in philosophy (see esp. 1, 12,
14).
3.1.14 Polemo: head of the Platonic Academy c.314–c.276 BC and teacher of
Zeno, founder of Stoicism. He was converted to philosophy by Xenocrates,
the previous head of the Academy (D.L. 4.16); see also 4.11.30.
3.1.16 did Laius … Apollo?: Apollo told Laius that if he had a son the child would
kill his father and marry his mother, but Laius went on to have a child; the
story forms the basis of Sophocles, Oedipus the King.
3.1.19 Did Socrates … never abandoned it: this passage is based on Plato,
Apology 28e.
3.1.20 ‘If you acquit me … related to me’: a paraphrase of Plato, Apology 29c, e,
30a.
3.1.23 ‘For my part … different from the rest’: for the images, see 1.2.18, 30–2;
for the idea, see Cicero, On Ends 3.66.
3.1.38 Since we ourselves … court his wife: quotation from Homer, Odyssey 1.37–
8.
3.10.4 verses … ‘Paean Apollo’!: these are lines 40–4 of the Golden Verses,
ascribed to the sixth-century BC thinker Pythagoras, but almost certainly
written much later. The practice of nightly reflection and self-examination
was a widely adopted practice in Hellenistic and Roman philosophy: see
e.g. Seneca, On Anger 3.36. Epictetus stresses that we should embed this
practice in our life and not merely chant the verse like a ritual cry (such as
‘Paean Apollo!’).
3.12.15 marks of identification: tokens used for identification in this period.
3.12.17 Apollonius: we do not know who Epictetus has in mind; it may have been
Apollonius of Tyana, a celebrated Neo-Pythagorean thinker and ascetic in
the first century AD.
3.12.2 tightrope, or setting up palms, or embracing statues: the first two seem to
be purely acrobatic or athletic practices (‘setting up a palm’ appears to
mean climbing up a pole with only hands and feet, like those who climb
palms). The third (done naked in cold weather) is ascribed to Diogenes the
Cynic as a way of hardening himself (D.L. 6.23). Epictetus combines these
practices, perhaps to make them look ridiculous.
3.12.7 opposite direction: a similar method of ethical training is recommended by
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics 2.9, 1109b1–7, as a way of learning how to
‘hit the mean’ in actions and feelings.
3.12.9 palm … leather tent … mortar and pestle: for ‘palm’, see note on 3.12.2.
Cynics were, typically, itinerant, and carried a few items needed for their
simple way of life. But the items mentioned here are excessive for this
purpose; again, Epictetus seems to be parodying the Cynic lifestyle. In
3.20.10 a pestle is used for athletic training, but it is not clear that is meant
here.
3.13.15 There is no Hades … divine spirits: the Stoics (like the Epicureans) did
not accept the truth of the traditional beliefs about the afterlife (or
underworld), linked with the names cited here. Stoics thought that the
universe as a whole was pervaded by divine agency and providence (LS 46,
54).
3.13.20 for a beginner: the remainder of this Discourse seems to be a separate
discussion, which has become attached to 3.13.
3.13.23 spittle: Epictetus imagines an immature and over-enthusiastic philosophy
lecturer spitting out his presentation at his audience.
3.13.4 even Zeus … relation: Zeus was identified in Stoic theory with the active
principle (pneuma, or fiery air) in the universe; the universe experiences
periodic conflagrations, when all other elements are converted into fiery air
(LS 46–7). In Greek mythology, Hera is the wife of Zeus, and Athena and
Apollo are his children. In 3.13.7 Zeus, as god and embodiment of divine
order (LS 54), is taken as a model for human rationality and self-
sufficiency.
3.13.9 profound peace: Augustus, the first Roman emperor, claimed to have
brought peace throughout the Roman Empire, and this was an aspiration
(sometimes achieved) of later emperors, to which Epictetus refers here.
3.14.14 powerful kick: kicking was one of the techniques used by pancratiasts,
who combined boxing and wrestling.
3.14.9 Now as regards … to do that: for Socratic cross-examination as designed to
counteract presumption, see e.g. Plato, Lysis 210e; Sophist 230a–d. There
seems to be a gap in the Greek text at this point.
3.15.14 Galba: an emperor assassinated after a short period of rule in AD 69 (the
‘year of the four emperors’). This comment seems unconnected with the
rest of the Discourse.
3.15.4 digging: this seems to refer to covering yourself with dust or mud before a
wrestling match (D.L. 6.27).
3.15.8 Euphrates: a Stoic lecturer of the first century AD, possibly also taught by
Musonius Rufus; see also 4.8.17–20.
3.16.10 like wax: lecture notes would normally be written with a stylus on wax
tablets.
3.17.4 Sura: Philostorgus, an unknown person, seems to have been prepared to
gain wealth by sleeping with Sura, presumably Palfurius Sura, a senator
under the Flavian emperors.
3.18.4 Socrates: he was condemned for impiety (more precisely, not worshipping
the gods the city worshipped) in 399 BC. Epictetus suggests the
condemnation was unjust; at any rate, Socrates did not regard it as
significant.
3.18.6 the son in you: Epictetus assumes that playing your social or family role
properly is a matter of doing so in accordance with virtue. see note on 3.3.
3.2.11 Diogenes … middle finger: Diogenes the Cynic; pointing with the middle
finger was a rude gesture.
3.2.15 Crinus: a little-known Stoic philosopher who was reported to have died in
this way.
3.20.19 Lesbius: evidently a critic of Epictetus (of whom we know nothing
beyond this passage).
3.20.4–5 lameness … Menoeceus: Epictetus may be alluding to his own lameness.
Menoeceus, in Greek myth, gave up his life to save his own city of Thebes.
3.20.7 the father of Admetus: Pheres, who is presented in Euripides’ Alcestis as
refusing to die to save the life of his son in spite of being very old himself
(see also 2.22.11).
3.21.12 Demeter: see next note.
3.21.13 hierophant: a priest who initiates worshippers in religious mysteries; this
and the other roles mentioned here are linked with mystery cults, such as
that of Demeter, goddess of corn, agriculture, and renewal of life, at
Eleusis (near Athens). For the idea of the truths of philosophy as
‘mysteries’ that require intense training and preparation to understand
properly, see also Plato, Symposium 210–11; Phaedo 69c, 81a.
3.21.19 philosophical doctrines: Epictetus here identifies three functions of
philosophy that are especially associated with Socrates and the founders of
Cynicism and Stoicism (Diogenes and Zeno). Long, 56–8, suggests that
Epictetus aimed to combine all three functions in the ethical teachings
presented in the Discourses. For the related idea of philosophy as a mode
of ‘therapy’ for the mind (3.2.20), see note on 2.21.22.
3.22.103 Argus: a mythical creature with many eyes.
3.22.108 ‘Go rather … most of all’: Homer, Iliad 6.490–2.
3.22.15 self-respect: the Cynic lifestyle, itinerant, homeless, with minimal
clothing and goods, satisfying all his physical needs in public, was
sometimes seen as expressing ‘shamelessness’ (anaideia); but here,
Epictetus presents a Cynic’s inner shame, or self-respect (aidōs), as his
protection.
3.22.23 by Zeus as a messenger: on this image for the philosopher’s mission, see
K. Ierodiakonou, ‘The Philosopher as God’s Messenger’, in Scaltsas and
Mason.
3.22.24 Philip … spy: the Cynic is like a spy because he undergoes difficulty and
danger to find out the truth (about what matters in human life) and reports
this to people. D.L. 6.43 tells us that Diogenes, captured after the battle of
Chaeronea (338 BC), described himself to Philip of Macedon as a spy on
Philip’s ‘insatiable greed’; see also 1.24.3–10; M. Schofield, ‘Epictetus on
Cynicism’, in Scaltsas and Mason, 75–80.
3.22.26 like Socrates: the description of Socrates and the start of the speech
echoes Plato, Clitophon 407a–b.
3.22.27 Myron … Ophellius: probably well-known athletes or gladiators of the
time.
3.22.28 the people themselves: Epictetus here uses language (especially ‘dazzled
by appearances’) that evokes the idea of judging the real worth of the
tyrannical character-type in Plato, Republic 577a.
3.22.30 Nero … Sardanapalus: Nero was Roman emperor in 54–68; his behaviour
became extreme and tyrannical in the later years of his rule. Sardanapalus
was the last king of Babylon and famed for luxury.
3.22.31 ‘rich in gold and rich in bronze’: quotation from Homer, Iliad 18.289.
3.22.33–7 Ah, poor ruling centre … what they think: Epictetus comments on the
worries of a king such as Agamemnon (leading the Greek army against the
Trojans) in the light of the Stoic thesis that death and other ‘indifferents’
are not really bad things.
3.22.4 master of the house: Stoic idea of God, linked with providential care for all
that happens in the universe (see LS 46, 54).
3.22.42 free by nature: on Epictetus’ claim that our capacity for choice is
fundamentally unconstrained or ‘free’, see Introd., p. xiv and nn. 17–18; on
‘freedom’ in Stoic theory, see also 4.1.
3.22.49 king and master: the Cynic is ‘king’ because he is master of himself (i.e.
in control of anything that can affect his happiness), whereas conventional
kings are subject to external circumstances. See also 93–6, 3.21.19;
Schofield (cited in note to 3.22.24), 80–4.
3.22.50 fine shoulder: Epictetus here lists features of dress, attitude, and physique
that form part of the popular stereotype of the Cynic, while indicating that
what makes a real Cynic is a matter of ethical character and understanding.
3.22.56 other than Zeus: there are many anecdotes showing Diogenes treating
kings (such as Philip and Alexander) with indifference or contempt; see
e.g. 3.22.90–2 and note on 3.22.24.
3.22.57 Heracles … Eurystheus: see also notes on 1.6.32, 2.16.45.
3.22.6 bull: person of exceptional gifts, capable of conferring special benefits on
humanity (see Cicero, On Ends 3.66); compared with heroic leaders in
Homer’s Iliad, Agamemnon and Achilles (rather than Thersites); on these
figures see note on 3.22.7–8.
3.22.60 the Great King: i.e. the king of Persia.
3.22.63 sceptre … kingdom: see note on 3.22.49 (also ‘king’ in 3.22.72).
3.22.67 city of wise people: this is a Stoic political ideal, put forward in Zeno’s
Republic (LS 67 A–B), but here linked with the question whether a Cynic
should marry or not.
3.22.7–8 Agamemnon … Thersites: well-known figures in Homer’s Iliad, often
used as examples by Epictetus. Agamemnon was the leader of the Greeks
at Troy, Achilles was the greatest Greek warrior who killed Hector, leader
of the Trojans, and Thersites was an inferior fighter who challenged the
authority of Agamemnon and was suppressed by Odysseus, another Greek
leader (Iliad 2.211–77).
3.22.72 ‘who has … care’: Homer, Iliad 2.25.
3.22.76 another Crates: Hipparchia, an exceptional case of a woman who became
a Cynic and lived as a Cynic with her husband, Crates (D.L. 6.96).
3.22.78 Epaminondas … Priam … Danaus … Aeolus: Epaminondas (d. 362) was
a famous Theban general; in Greek myth, Priam had fifty children, Danaus
fifty daughters, Aeolus six sons and six daughters.
3.22.80 dogs ‘of the table … doors’: quotation from Homer, Iliad 22.69. The name
Cynic means ‘dog-like’, referring to their very simple, virtually animal,
mode of life. While holding up Diogenes as an ideal, Epictetus is
dismissive of contemporary Cynics, who merely adopt the ‘dog-like’ style
without the ethical substance.
3.22.83 he should get involved in public affairs: this was a standard expectation of
the Stoic wise person (LS 57 F(8), 67 W(3)), but not the Cynic, as
Epictetus explains.
3.22.91 when someone … hateful to the gods?: for this incident, see D.L. 6.42.
3.22.92 To sleep … multitude of cares: quotation from Homer, Iliad 2.24, 25.
3.22.95 ‘Lead me … Destiny’: quotation from Cleanthes, Hymn to Zeus; see note
on 2.23.42.
3.23.17 Dio: Dio Chrysostom, a celebrated sophist of the period (c.40–c.110); see
also 19.
3.23.20 Lysias and Isocrates: famous Athenian orators of the late fifth and fourth
centuries BC.
3.23.21 ‘Anytus and Meletus … the best’: this passage quotes Socrates in Plato,
Apology 30c (also 1.29.18, 2.2.15), and modifies Crito 46b.
3.23.22 People would thus … introduce them: see note on 3.5.17.
3.23.23 discourse … house of Quadratus: recitations in the houses of rich men
were common in the Roman Empire; Quadratus is used as a stock name for
the hosts of these recitations.
3.23.26 ‘Nor would it be fitting … like a schoolboy’: see Plato, Apology 17c.
3.23.27 just as the sun … further action: the Stoics believed that the rays of the
sun consisted of vapours drawn up to feed its fires. See also note on
1.19.11.
3.23.33 for display: display (or ‘epideictic’) oratory was a recognized style in
rhetoric, along with the forensic and deliberative styles. But Epictetus
stresses that this is not a fourth style in philosophical teaching, which can
rank alongside the styles of exhortation, refutation, and didactic teaching.
For the suggestion that these three styles are combined in Epictetus’ modes
of ethical teaching, as shown in the Discourses, see Long, 54–7; and on the
link between these styles and philosophers such as Socrates and Zeno, see
note on 3.21.19.
3.24.100 Gyara: a Greek island famous as a place of exile (see also 109, 1.24.19).
3.24.117 sacrifices … Capitol: a normal part of the ritual undertaken by those
holding magistracies in Rome; the Capitol was a hill in the centre of Rome
and site of many temples.
3.24.13 Odysseus, ‘Cities … lawful ways’: as elsewhere, Odysseus and Heracles
are presented as exemplary figures, and possible embodiments of Stoic
‘wisdom’; see also (on Heracles), Cicero, On Ends 3.66; quotations are
from Homer, Odyssey 1.3 and 17.487 (slightly modified). Heracles’
treatment of women is presented much less favourably in Greek comedy
and tragedy (e.g. Sophocles, Women of Trachis) than it is in 14–15.
3.24.18 Yes, but Odysseus … believe his tales?: quotation from Homer, Odyssey
5.82. For criticism of Homer and other poets for misrepresenting heroes
(that is, not bringing out their qualities as moral exemplars), see also Plato,
Republic 387d–392a.
3.24.31–6 life is like a campaign … senator for life: here Epictetus is using
military and political language to symbolize the Stoic ideal of life as a
campaign or mission. However, Stoicism also presents political
engagement as a natural part of the best human life (LS 57 F(8)).
3.24.38–9 Epicureans … likely to sleep: here, as elsewhere, Epictetus gives a
caricature of what the pursuit of pleasure meant for Epicureans (contrast
LS 21, esp. B(5)).
3.24.44 ‘What … his door?’: the theme shifts in 44–56 to a different kind of social
challenge, that of calling on a socially or politically important person for
some purpose, but doing so without compromising one’s ethical principles.
3.24.61 in making his defence … as a soldier: Socrates did not display his wife
and children in court, as was often done in Athenian courts, to arouse the
jury’s sympathy: Plato, Apology 34c. For his (bold) counter-penalty on
being convicted (i.e. free meals at public expense for life), see Plato,
Apology 36b–e; and on his earlier service in war and on the council, see
28d–e, 32b.
3.24.66 Perrhaebians: a tribe living in a mountainous area on the borders of
Thessaly and Macedon, exemplifying a remote or inaccessible region. The
incidents about Diogenes’ capture by pirates and slavery are designed to
show his indomitable spirit (on such incidents, see W. Desmond, Cynics
(Stocksfield, 2008), 20–1).
3.24.67 Antisthenes set me free: Antisthenes (famous for his austere ethic) set
Diogenes free (symbolically) by his teaching; on ‘freedom’ in this sense,
see 4.1.
3.24.70 Philip, Alexander, Perdiccas: kings of Macedon during Diogenes’
lifetime.
3.24.77 Lyceum: a public gymnasium in Athens, also the site of Aristotle’s
philosophical school.
3.24.9–12 Shall we not wean … the spectacle: here, Epictetus sets the theme of the
challenges of travel in the broader context of the Stoic world-view. He
refers to the idea of the universe as a single substance animated by divine
agency or rationality (or as a city of gods and humans), which experiences
decomposition and change as well as periodic interruption (see LS 46–7;
also 57 F(3)).
3.25.5 like quails … the ring: the implication seems to be that fighting quails, once
defeated, are more inclined to run away.
3.26.18 measuring worthless ashes: because of his failure in (ethical)
measurement (18–20), the person addressed is attaching value to mere
‘externals’, such as danger or death, which are not fundamentally
important.
3.26.23 draw water: according to D.L. 7.168, Cleanthes, the second head of the
Stoic school, was so committed to studying with Zeno, despite his poverty,
that he worked at night as a gardener to support his studies.
3.26.32 unarmed and alone: Epictetus takes as exemplary the attitude of Heracles
(son of Zeus), who showed that he had a genuinely ‘kingly’ attitude by
benefiting humanity by his seven labours, while Eurystheus, who made
him carry out these labours, showed that he was not a real king because he
did not rule himself. On Stoic rethinking of the notions of freedom and
kingship, see also 4.1.
3.26.33 ‘Like a mountain-bred lion’: the quoted phrase is Homer, Odyssey 6.130.
Odysseus shows his indomitable spirit by covering his naked body with a
branch and asking for shelter and food from the attendants of Nausicaa,
princess of Phaeacia.
3.26.37 like Manes: this puzzling phrase apparently alludes to a comment
attributed to Zeno, who, when ill, asked to be treated ‘like Manes’, i.e. like
a slave (Manes is a common slave name); Musonius fragment 18 A
(Hense’s edition). For Epictetus, a possible further layer of meaning is that
manes means ‘corpse’ or ‘shade’ in Latin; so the person should be treated
in a way that prepares him for death (the inevitable final outcome of human
life, 38).
3.4.11 Nemean, Pythian, Isthmian … Olympic: these were the four regular
Panhellenic festivals, which included competitions.
3.5.14 ‘As one person … becoming better’: the closest parallels to this passage are
Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.6.8, and Plato, Protagoras 318a.
3.5.17 Protagoras or Hippias: famous fifth-century sophists who (unlike
Socrates) claimed to be able to teach rhetoric and to make people better.
Plato’s Socrates sends young men to such sophists to learn these things
(e.g. Plato, Protagoras 311a, 314e–316a), though his claims that he
admires them seem ironic.
3.7.12 ‘Don’t steal’: there is some basis for this statement (see LS 22 A(4–5)); but
it oversimplifies Epicurus’ thinking on justice (see LS 22 as a whole, esp.
M(4)).
3.7.19 one shouldn’t marry … civic duties: see D.L. 10.119 for this Epicurean
view; however, this needs to be set against the positive valuation of
friendship (LS 22 F–I, O), and Epicurus’ own concern for his friend’s
children in his death-bed letter (LS 24 D). For more sympathetic discussion
of Epicurean thinking on this topic, see E. Brown, ‘Politics and Society’, in
J. Warren (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Epicureanism (Cambridge,
2009); J. Warren, Facing Death: Epicurus and his Critics (Cambridge,
2004), ch. 5.
3.7.25 of three kinds: this threefold division of appropriate actions (an important
category in Stoicism) is not paralleled elsewhere; on ‘appropriate actions’,
see LS 59.
3.7.28 as an attendant: Epictetus here reverses the Epicurean claim that the virtues
should be ‘attendants’ to pleasure (i.e. instrumental to it) (LS 21 O).
3.7.3 Cassiope: we are not sure which Maximus is meant here: the Cassiope
mentioned is probably in Corcyra (modern Corfu).
3.7.31 Symphorus or Numenius … did you sleep in?: those named seem to be
freedman influential at court; sleeping in the antechamber enables one to be
first to take part in the morning greeting (salutatio) of important people.
3.8.4 convincing impression: in Stoic theory, this is an impression that self-
evidently confers knowledge of the object in question (LS 40), though here
Epictetus is only focusing on the question of what is or is not ‘up to us’.
3.8.7 Italicus: the identity of this person, the exact point of the anecdote, and the
connection (if any) with the preceding part of the Discourse are unclear.
Romans were, traditionally, sceptical about the value of philosophy;
presumably Italicus had an amateurish or limited understanding of what it
meant to be a philosopher.
3.9.21 Myrrhine … the denying argument: Myrrhine glassware was highly
coloured and very expensive; the denying argument was studied
extensively by Chrysippus (D.L. 7.197).
3.9.3 patron of the Cnossians: for a Roman to be a representative of the people of
Cnossos (the main city in Crete) in their dealings at Rome would be a
prestigious role.
3.22.19–22 You must begin … with the gods: these paragraphs reflect a Stoic
(rather than distinctively Cynic) ideal; 22 suggests the Stoic idea of the
universe, especially the heavenly bodies, as pervaded by divine rationality
(LS 54).
3.22.51 Olympic Games: for this image for the philosophical life, see 1.18.18–23,
3.15.


3.24.105 I’d fathered a mortal: this saying (attributed either to Solon or

Anaxagoras) became famous in Hellenistic and Roman philosophy as an
expression of fortitude in the face of misfortune.
3.18 Epictetus stresses that the only harm you can experience is that of
becoming an ethically bad person, which depends on your own choice, and
not on external circumstances; for this idea, see also the argument put
forward by Socrates in Plato, Gorgias 472–9; also Long, 70–4.
3.22 In this, one of the longest of the Discourses, Epictetus underlines the
demanding nature of the Cynic mission, if properly carried out. Cynicism,
founded by Diogenes (c.412/403–c.324/321 BC) was a radical philosophical
movement marked by extreme simplicity of lifestyle and the ideal of
following nature while rejecting all that is merely conventional in human
life. Cynicism was an important influence on early Stoicism and, though
lapsing in importance in the later Hellenistic period, was taken seriously as
a rigorous and ascetic mode of life by first-century AD Stoics, including
Seneca, Musonius, and Epictetus. In this Discourse, Cynicism comes close
to being an idealized version of the Stoic philosophical mission (whose
demands Epictetus often stresses); but there are still a number of
distinctively Cynic features.
3.23 Epictetus contrasts the role of a philosophical teacher with that of the
‘sophist’, or display lecturer, a role that was becoming well known in
Epictetus’ time (c.55–135). Epictetus lived in the early part of the period
we associate with the Second Sophistic in Graeco-Roman culture, i.e. 60–
230. The sophist, who deploys display or ‘epideictic’ oratory, presents
ekphraseis (verbal pictures), e.g. of Pan and the Muses (11), and retells
mythological or epic stories, e.g. the death of Achilles (35), or dramatic
episodes from history, e.g. the Persian Wars (38). The philosophical
teacher, by contrast, such as Socrates (21–2, 25) or Musonius Rufus (29)
offers a less superficially attractive—but much more valuable—kind of
discourse, namely, therapy for the mind (27–31).
3.10 Epictetus explains that philosophy can train us to bear illness properly by
underlining that the only things that matter, fundamentally, are ‘up to us’
(10, 18) and that things that happen to us, including illness and even death
(14), are relatively unimportant.
3.11 These two points are linked by the Stoic idea of the divine order as
 providing a moral framework for human life (LS 63 C(3–4)). In 1–2
Epictetus recasts as a divine law the standard Stoic view that passions
derive from treating as good and bad things that lie outside the scope of
choice (LS 65 B, D). In 4–6, quoting Homer, Odyssey 14.56–8, he suggests
that Zeus, father of the gods, provides the moral basis for showing proper
respect for one’s father.
3.12 In giving advice on ethical training, Epictetus refers again to his three-topic
programme of practical ethics, focused on management of desire (4–12),
motivation (13), and assent (14–15); see 3.2.1–5 and note on 2.17.16. He
also discourages extravagant or ostentatious modes of ethical training and
seems to have certain Cynic practices in mind.
3.13 Epictetus maintains that Stoic principles offer the only secure basis for
avoiding a sense of desolation and helplessness, since they teach us to be
self-sufficient (6–7) while also accepting whatever may happen to us,
including our death (14–17). He assumes the standard Stoic view that we
are composed of material elements, which dissolve at death (15).
3.14 Here we have a collection of sayings on themes typical of the Discourses.
3.15 Epictetus compares the training required to become a Stoic with the single-
minded and rigorous preparation needed to aim at victory in the Olympic
games; for this theme, see 3.25.1–5; also Long, 107–12.
3.20 Epictetus discusses again the core Stoic claim that what is good or bad
depends on our agency (or on the way we use things) and that everything
else is ‘a matter of indifference’ (or an ‘external thing’, as Epictetus puts
it). See LS 58; Introd., pp. xiii–xiv and nn. 14, 17–19.
3.21 Here again, Epictetus stresses that becoming a Stoic teacher requires
special natural capacities (18), quasi-religious commitment (12–16), and
sustained training of a kind that leads to a real change in one’s character
and way of life (3–6, 8–9, 22–3). It is not a matter of superficial mastery of
certain intellectual techniques and ideas which you can ‘vomit’ up again in
the form of presentations and commentaries (1–2, 10, 16, 24).
3.24 This rather long Discourse focuses on the challenges of managing
interpersonal relationships for someone trying to lead a Stoic life. If we
have good reasons to travel (for instance, to attend a philosophical school,
78), we should not be deterred by missing our relatives or worrying about
how they are (4, 18, 22, 27). We should be affectionate towards other
people in a way that recognizes that, ultimately, our happiness does not
depend on their continued life (58–68, 82–8). We should also, during our
 lives, engage fully in social and political activities, but without
compromising our ethical principles (44–56). See also, on these themes,
1.2, 2.10; also Introd., pp. xv–xxi and nn. 20–3; Long, 232–50, esp. 248–9.
3.25 For the comparison of preparation for the philosophical life to training for
the Olympics (3–4), see also note on 3.15. For the stress on the importance
of building up appropriate attitudes by consciously adopting good habits,
see note on 2.18.
3.26 Epictetus speaks sternly to someone whose fear of what the future may
hold shows that his grasp of the real meaning of Stoic philosophy is as yet
only skin-deep (13, 15–20, 39).
Croesus: last king of Lydia (sixth century BC) and famous for his wealth.
Many hairs … from my breast: these three quotations are from Homer,
Iliad 10.15, 5.91, 94–5 (referring to Agamemnon).
Antisthenes … Crates: Antisthenes (mid-fifth to mid-fourth century BC),
pupil of Socrates, was regarded as a major influence on Diogenes the
Cynic, and Crates (late fourth to early third century BC) was a follower of
Diogenes.
Often have I wondered … than the other: Epictetus here imagines a
conversation about the style of the opening of Xenophon’s Memorabilia
(which reports the dialogues of Socrates).
 BOOK 4

4.1 Though very long, this Discourse is centred on a single idea, that real
freedom consists in recognizing that everything that really matters is ‘up to
us’ and that what is not ‘up to us’ is relatively unimportant. This message is
stated in 1–5, recapitulated in 128–31, and summed up again in 174–6.
Real slavery derives from surrendering our choice to things outside our
power, such as objects of erotic desire, status, or wealth (15–23, 45–50,
144–9). A related theme is that real freedom derives from accepting all that
happens as part of the providential work of fate or God (99–106, 131).
Epictetus distinguishes this concept of freedom from conventional legal
and political freedom (6–14, 33–40, 54–62). The point is sometimes
brought out in a quasi-Socratic dialectical style (45–56, 132–7). The
Discourse closes with pictures of Diogenes and Socrates as exemplars of
freedom in the real sense, one rejecting conventional society, the other
living a principled life within it (151–8, 159–69). See Long, 27–9, 208–10;
also S. Bobzien, Determinism and Freedom in Stoic Philosophy (Oxford,
1998), ch. 7; M. Frede, A Free Will: Origins of the Notion in Ancient
Thought (Berkeley, 2011), ch. 5.
4.2 Epictetus points out that, if you want to make ethical progress, you may
have to break with former friends who are not living by the same standards
as those to which you aspire. On Stoic thinking on the interplay between
the personal and social aspects of ethical development and Epictetus’
attention to this interplay, see Introd., pp. xiv–xv and nn. 19–23.
4.3 Epictetus urges his listeners not to aim at exchanges that are profitable in
terms of ‘externals’ (such as wealth or social status), but at those that
enable us to develop ethically, and to accept readily the loss of other things.
4.4 Epictetus stresses again the need to focus our concern on what is ‘up to us’,
pointing out that philosophical study is directed, ultimately, to a practical
objective and is not an end in itself.
4.5 Epictetus shows that adopting Stoic ethical principles will prevent us from
quarrelling with other people because we will realize that our happiness is,
fundamentally, ‘up to us’ and does not depend on what others do to us.
4.6 Epictetus maintains that the only secure way to avoid being pitied by other
people is to recognize that what matters, ultimately, is things within our
power, and that there is no reason to pity someone who fails to gain
‘externals’ such as power and wealth.
4.7 Epictetus maintains that a proper understanding of what is and is not ‘up to
us’ confers freedom from fear of powerful people and of what they can
provide or impose on us, including death.
4.8 Epictetus argues that one should judge who is and who is not a philosopher
not by the fact that they have the typical philosophical look (with beard,
long hair, and rough cloak), but by the extent to which their behaviour
shows they are living according to the principles to which they are
committed.
4.1.105 pageant and festival: see note on 2.14.23.
4.1.111 This is what … your brothers: on the approach to interpersonal
relationships assumed here and in 107, see note on 3.24.
4.1.114–15 Diogenes … pirates: see notes on 3.24.66–7.
4.1.123 Helvidius: see note on 1.1.
4.1.131 Guide me … assigned me: see note on 2.23.42.
4.1.146 Aprulla: evidently, a rich old woman; the imagined speaker aims to inherit
her wealth after her death.
4.1.150 Felicio … with pride: Felicio was a freedman of Nero; Epictetus seems
here to refer to his own experience as the slave of Epaphroditus, an ex-
slave of Nero’s.
4.1.155 the universe: the ideal of cosmopolitanism (being a citizen of the
universe) was adopted by both Cynicism and Stoicism; see W. Desmond,
Cynics (Stocksfield, 2008), 199–2008; LS 67 A, K, L.
4.1.156 Archidamas: i.e. Archidamas III, fourth-century BC king of Sparta.
4.1.160 exposed … in the least: on Socrates’ bravery in battle, see Plato, Apology
28e; Symposium 219e–221b.
4.1.162 on trial for his life: see Plato, Apology 34d–e.
4.1.163 he thought only about … wrong action: a paraphrase of Socrates’ response
in Plato, Crito 47d, to Crito’s suggestion (45d–46a) that Socrates should try
to escape from prison for the sake of his children.
4.1.164 he who had refused … demanded it: Socrates (who happened to be
president of the Athenian council on that day) refused to put an illegal
motion to the vote in the Assembly, in spite of popular pressure to do this;
see Plato, Apology 32b; Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.1.18.
4.1.172 practise to die: see Plato, Phaedo 64a.
4.1.173 what the philosophers say … with reason: there is no other record of this
comment by Cleanthes. However, the Stoics, like Plato’s Socrates, were
famous for their ‘paradoxes’, i.e. ideas that run counter to what most
people believe but which have a strong underlying rationale, such as that
only the wise person is ‘free’ in a full sense (LS 67 A(4)).
4.1.19 Thrasonides … Geta: Thrasonides seems to be a mercenary soldier and
Geta his slave.
4.1.20 ‘A little wench … ever enslaved’: quoted lines from Menander, The Hated
One.
4.1.30–1 You cannot enslave … armed force: the quotations appear to be from
letters ascribed to Diogenes the Cynic (these letters do not survive).
4.1.33 five per cent tax: levied on owners giving freedom to their slaves; see also
2.1.26.
4.1.38 rings: members of the equestrian order (the order below the highest,
senatorial, class at Rome) were entitled to wear gold rings.
4.1.39 and then a third: by a law of Julius Caesar, three military campaigns were a
prerequisite for becoming a municipal senator.
4.1.41 entity: the reference seems to be to Xenophon, Memorabilia 4.6.1; but this
is also a very common theme in Platonic depictions of Socratic dialectical
enquiry.
4.1.42 apply … preconceptions: see note on 1.22.
4.1.45 Caesar’s friend: this was a semi-official role in the Roman Empire, like
being a modern government adviser or minister.
4.1.53 buying and selling: i.e. buying and selling slaves, the normal mode of
acquiring them at this period.
4.1.57 twelve fasces … purple-bordered robe: the consul (highest Roman
magistrate) was preceded by twelve attendants (lictors), carrying ‘fasces’
(rods), symbolizing the power to punish people. Roman senators wore a
purple-bordered toga.
4.1.58 Saturnalia: a festival when slaves were treated as if they were free (see also
1.25.8).
4.1.86 citadel: i.e. mind, or ‘ruling centre’, in Stoic terms. The metaphor goes
back to Plato (Republic 560b; Timaeus 70a), and is adopted by Marcus
Aurelius, Meditations 8.48.3.
4.1.91 quaestor: Roman magistrate in charge of provincial finances.
4.10.13 third area of study: see note on 2.17.16.
4.10.14 If death … towards God: for a similar speech in Stoic writings on practical
ethics, see Seneca, On Peace of Mind 11.3–4 (addressed there to Fortune).
4.10.24 ‘One form … another’: the full form of this proverb is cited in 4.6.30:
‘One form of business doesn’t go together with another.’
4.10.31 ‘toss … side’ … Protesilaus: the quoted lines are from Homer, Iliad 24.5,
referring to Achilles’ distress after the death of his much-loved friend
Patroclus; the three men named were close friends of his, now dead.
4.10.33 Automedon: charioteer of Achilles and Patroclus, he became Achilles’
companion after the death of Patroclus.
4.10.35 ‘because … befall me’: Homer, Iliad 19.321.
4.11.19 Socrates rarely took a bath: see Plato, Symposium 174a.
4.11.20 But Aristophanes … wrestling school: Aristophanes, Clouds 103
(modified), 179, 225. Epictetus’ point is that Aristophanes’ evidence is of
no value; Clouds (423 BC) does offer a ridiculous caricature of Socrates.
4.11.25 notion of beauty … and a desire for elegance: the idea that elegance, or
decorum, constitutes the outward mark of virtue evokes Cicero, On
Obligations 1.93–6 (based on the theory of the second-century BC Stoic
Panaetius).
4.11.30 That is why … in the wrong place: see note on 3.1.14.
4.11.6 Now the functions … assent: on Epictetus’ terminology for types of
psychological agency, see note on 4.6.18.
4.13.14 Medea: see note on 2.17.20.
4.13.22 pitch … wheel: ancient methods of torture.
4.13.7–8 no, I listen … foolish talk: the line of thought seems initially puzzling,
because Epictetus appears to associate himself with some quite
unprincipled attitudes and behaviour. However, we need to note the
qualifying phrases ‘if I’m that kind of person’ and ‘if I’m actually like
him’. Epictetus is imagining the response of someone who has the same
malicious motives as the other (like the military spy in 5–6) but who can
keep his mouth shut until the right moment. Epictetus’ own view (that we
are responsible for our own harm or benefit) reappears in 8. The last clause
in 8 (‘as a result of my own foolish talk’) seems to be meant hypothetically.
If Epictetus suffers from what he says, that is his responsibility, and not
that of anyone else.
4.3.12 Masurius and Cassius: distinguished legal experts in the early second
century.
4.3.9 tribune’s post … praetor’s post: important Roman magistracies.
4.4.13 On Understanding: i.e. a Stoic treatise on gaining knowledge by correct use
of impressions. This is a standard topic (and treatise title) in Stoic logic or
dialectic, which included theory of knowledge.
4.4.16 On Motivation … On Desire … On Appropriate Actions: the titles listed are
familiar topics in Stoic ethics.
4.4.21 ‘If this is what God pleases … so be it!’: Plato, Crito 43d, slightly
modified; see also 1.4.24.
4.4.22 hymns of praise: see Plato, Phaedo 60d; D.L. 2.42.
4.4.33 eradicate desire: see note on 1.4.1.
4.4.34 ‘Guide me … O Destiny’: see note on 2.23.42.
4.4.38 evil genius: an exceptional case in the Discourses of a phrase evoking
popular magic or folklore (though used ironically).
4.5.10 injustice … who inflicts it: a recurrent idea in Plato (e.g. Crito 49b; Gorgias
468–75; Republic 588e–589c, also adopted by Stoicism); see also Long,
70–2.
4.5.14 strangle lions or embrace statues: the first act is superhuman or heroic (we
may be reminded of Heracles), the second evokes Diogenes (see 3.12.2).
4.5.15 ‘gather together … who has died’: quotations are from a fragment of
Euripides, Cresphontes, urging us, paradoxically, to grieve at someone’s
birth, rather than his death.
4.5.17 Trajan … Nero: emperors in 98–117 and 54–68, respectively. The coins are
accepted or rejected on the basis of the good (Trajan) or bad (Nero)
character of these emperors.
4.5.19 call … an apple: this refers to a lump of beeswax used in leather sewing,
which was described as ‘the cobbler’s apple’.
4.5.26 judgements: for the city–mind analogy, see note on 4.1.86.
4.5.29 Eteocles and Polynices: see note on 2.22.14.
4.5.3 Thrasymachus, Polus, and Callicles: these are conspicuously aggressive
interlocutors of Socrates in Plato, Republic book 1, and Gorgias.
4.5.33 In pouring … under her feet: there are various ancient sources for these
incidents (though they do not appear in Plato’s works); the cake was a
present from Alcibiades, of whom Socrates’ wife, Xanthippe, was jealous.
4.5.37 ‘Lions … Ephesus’: the Spartans were successful militarily in mainland
Greece but not in Asia Minor (modern Turkey), where Ephesus is situated.
4.6.18 motives, preparations, projects: on the precise sense Epictetus gives to
these terms and on how his usage relates to Stoic terminology more
generally, see Inwood, 224–34.
4.6.20 What does Antisthenes … spoken of: for this incident, about the philosopher
Antisthenes (student of Socrates and teacher of Diogenes) and Cyrus, king
of Persia in the fifth to fourth centuries BC, see D.L. 6.3.
4.6.32–3 Let not sleep … What did I do?: from the Golden Verses ascribed to
Pythagoras (lines 40 and 42) (3.10.2 gives lines 40–4, including the
quotations cited here), ascribed ironically to the type of person being
criticized here.
4.6.33 a lie: the Stoics thought that the wise person (though not necessarily other
people) could legitimately lie on certain occasions. See also the ‘noble lie’
used by the rulers in Plato’s ideal state (Republic 414b–e).
4.7.15 to die: for death as decomposition into the elements of which all things are
made up, see also 3.13.15.
4.7.30 ‘Go … Leon’: see second note on 4.1.160.
4.7.31 thrown out unburied: an insult to the dead. Diogenes asked to be thrown
out unburied, but with his trusty staff at his side to keep off the dogs and
birds (D.L. 6.79).
4.7.5 bits of pottery: presumably used for dice or some similar game.
4.7.6 Galileans: Epictetus seems to mean the Christians, who were widely
regarded as perversely defiant in their refusal to worship the emperor. This
becomes clear in a famous exchange of letters between the emperor Trajan
and the younger Pliny, a provincial governor, in 112.
4.8.12 elements of reason … all of this: the closest parallel to this passage is
provided by Stoic definitions of the nature of logic or dialectic (one of the
three branches of philosophy); see LS 31 A; also Long, 119–20.
4.8.17 Euphrates: see also 3.15.8. Unusually he combined the roles of sophist or
public lecturer and Stoic philosopher; correspondingly, he dressed in a
conventional way.
4.8.21 Hephaestus … felt cap: divine patron of blacksmiths and other crafts; the
felt cap was typically worn by blacksmiths.
4.8.22 introduce them: see note on 3.23.22.
4.8.29 Asclepius: god of healing. Worshippers slept in his temples overnight with
the aim of being cured by dreams that the god sent or by his interventions.
4.8.30 sceptre and the crown: on Cynics and ‘kingship’, see note on 3.22.49.
4.8.32 Never did pallor … cheeks: Homer, Odyssey 11.529–1.
4.8.35 winter training: for this theme, see also 3.15, 3.25.1–5.
4.8.36 gardens of Adonis: early spring domestic gardens (dedicated to Adonis),
which played a role like modern greenhouses.
4.8.39 at the root: a botanical mistake, since it is the exposed parts of plants that
are frosted, but not a deliberate one, it would seem.
4.8.42 bull: for this comparison, see 3.22.6.
4.9.10 Heracles: another reference to Heracles’ labours; see also 1.6.32, 2.16.45,
3.26.32.
4.9.6 Aristides and Evenus: authors of erotic stories.
4.2.10 Thersites: an ugly common soldier who challenged Agamemnon, leader of
the Greeks, on his management of the Trojan War; see Homer, Iliad 2.212–
77; see also 2.23.32, 3.22.7–8.
4.7.23 children will look to that: in this slightly puzzling passage Epictetus
presents political positions as no more valuable than nuts and figs (things
that only children should run to pick up). However (24), if one happens to
find oneself with a fig (i.e. political position) in one’s lap, one should
accept it, and play the role appropriately. For Epictetus’ attitude to political
roles, see also 1.1.19–29, 1.2.12–24.


4.10.21 If you want … little baskets: these are the marks of being a Roman consul,
namely, having attendants with twelve rods (see note on 4.1.57), judging
trials, officiating at the games; the ‘lunches in little baskets’ were the dole
(sportula) distributed by wealthy Roman patrons to their clients.
4.11 Epictetus’ whole-hearted commendation of cleanliness is perhaps
surprising in the light of his own adoption of a very simple lifestyle and
idealization of Diogenes the Cynic. But it fits in with his advice that people
should play their social roles appropriately (provided this is compatible
with trying to act virtuously, 1.2, 2.10), and with his criticism of those who
think that just adopting a scruffy appearance makes one a philosopher
(4.8); note also his negative view of those who adopt the Cynic style but
not the ethical content. see notes on 3.12.2, 3.22.80.
4.13 Epictetus criticizes those who speak indiscreetly about their own affairs, on
the grounds that this shows that such people lack judgement both about
how to treat others and how to conduct their own lives autonomously.
Great King: the king of Persia, a standard example of great power.
sent … to arrest Leon: on this incident, see Plato, Apology 32c. Leon was a
leading figure in the opposition to the Thirty Tyrants.
drink the poison: see Plato, Phaedo 117a–e.
Lyceum or Academy: public gymnasia where Socrates held many of his
philosophical dialogues.
he would have been as happy … often served: see first note on 4.1.160.
sophistical arguments: this does not match any incident in the Socratic
dialogues we have; the closest parallel is Xenophon, Memorabilia 2.2.
bound to die: in Iliad 18.95–100, Achilles accepts that his own death will
come soon after his vengeance on Patroclus’ killer. For Epictetus’ attitude
towards these epic and tragic situations, see note on 1.28. For similar
criticism of Achilles’ extravagant grief at the death of Patroclus, see Plato,
Republic 387d–388d.
finest features: Plato, Symposium 175c–e, 217–18, 223a–b.
FRAGMENTS

These are passages taken from other ancient writings that are said to be by
Epictetus, and that seem to be based on lost versions of Epictetus’ teachings by
Arrian. The most common source is John Stobaeus’ anthology of moralizing
passages (fourth century AD). Only passages now thought by scholars likely to
be by Epictetus have been included. The numbering is that of the edition of
Epictetus’ works by Heinrich Schenkl (Leipzig, 1916). References to Disc. refer
to the Discourses. References by number alone are to other fragments.

1 The claim that the ultimate aim of studying all three branches of Stoic
philosophy (logic, ethics, and physics) is to enable one to improve one’s
ethical character is a common theme in Epictetus, especially in connection
with logic (e.g. Disc. 2.23, 3.2). Here, unusually, the first part of the
passage concerns physics. The idea that, whether or not the universe is
made of atoms (the Epicurean view) or elements (the Stoic view), we can
still commit ourselves to Stoic ethical principles is restated sometimes in
Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations (e.g. 4.3, 10.6, 12.14).
3 The idea that ethical progress can be understood, in part, as bringing our
wishes and decisions into line with the universe, by producing in ourselves
the kind of order and rationality that is built into the universe, is a central
Stoic theme (see LS 63 C(3–4)). Marcus Aurelius restates this theme often
(e.g. Meditations 2.16, 3.5, 4.4). Epictetus normally refers to God, rather
than the universe, in this connection (see e.g. Disc. 1.14, 1.16). See also the
latter part of 4 and 6.


5 Lycurgus: he was the legendary founder of the distinctive Spartan

constitution, which was widely admired by ancient philosophers for its
stability and focus on character training.
6 For this theme, see also 3.
8 For the Stoic idea that the universe (including human beings) is composed
of the four elements and that everything is transformed into these and the
elements into each other, see LS 47; see also Disc. 3.13.15; this theme is
restated often by Marcus Aurelius (e.g. Meditations 2.3, 10.7, 11.20).
9 This passage is presented by the second-century author Aulus Gellius
(19.1.14–21) as summarizing part of Book 5 of Arrian’s Discourses of
Epictetus; the phrases cited here in transliterated Greek (also translated by
Gellius) are actual quotations. The passage is also cited in Augustine, City
of God 9.4. The passage is an important piece of evidence for ‘pre-
emotions’ in Stoicism and part of it forms LS 65 Y. On ‘impressions’ and
‘assent’, see Introd., pp. xiii–xiv and nn. 15–16; on ‘pre-emotions’
(involuntary reactions that fall short of being ‘emotions’ in the full sense),
see LS 65 X. The wise person does not ‘assent’ to these impressions
because he knows that such external events are not ‘bad’ in a real sense; on
the wise person’s ‘good emotions’, see LS 65 F, W. See also M. R. Graver,
Stoicism and Emotion (Chicago, 2007), esp. chs. 2, 4.
10 This passage is also taken from Aulus Gellius (17.19); the phrases in
inverted commas seem to be quotations from Epictetus. For the main point,
see note on 1.
11 Archelaus: king of Macedon in the fifth century BC.
four quarts of barley-meal for an obol: a substantial amount of a subsistence
food for a small price.
Polus: a famous actor in the fourth century BC (after Socrates’ death, in
fact).
Oedipus the King … Oedipus at Colonus: the two plays are surviving fifth-
century BC plays by Sophocles.


Odysseus: he is disguised in rags throughout books 14–21 of Homer’s

Odyssey.
12 This response of controlled anger should not be confused with the wise
person’s absence of misguided emotion or ‘good emotion’ (see note on 9).
14 This passage supports the Stoic idea of pleasure, rather than the Epicurean
claim that pleasure is the overall goal of life (LS 21). The description of
the (Stoic) philosophers as ‘grumpy’ is ironic. The Stoic idea of ‘pleasure’
presented here is normally characterized as ‘joy’ (LS 65 F).
15 The Roman women mentioned presumably think that Plato is advocating
promiscuous erotic relations between married people for pleasurable
purposes. In fact, as the passage points out, Plato’s proposals in Republic
book 5 are to do away with marriage (and private property) altogether, at
least in the ruling, ‘guardian’ class, in order to create single-minded
commitment to the political role of this class and thus create a state that is
‘just’ in Plato’s sense (457d–464b).
21 see note on Disc. 1.1.28.
22 Agrippinus was governor of Crete and Cyrenaica under Claudius (emperor
41–54). The idea of punishment as a form of quasi-medical treatment,
beneficial to the person punished, is prominent in Plato, Gorgias 476a–
481b, and the last sentence of this passage evokes 476d especially. On
Plato’s Gorgias as an influential work for Epictetus, see Long, 70–4.
23 Xenophon: the quoted words are based on Memorabilia 1.4.7.
sack: the stomach.
 another duty: the sexual urge.
26–8 The remaining three fragments are all taken from Marcus Aurelius,
Meditations. 26 from Meditations 4.41; 27 from Meditations 11.37; 28
from Meditations 11.38.
HANDBOOK

The Handbook (Greek, Encheiridion) is a selection by Arrian of themes taken

from the Discourses, of which there were originally eight books. The passages
(or ‘chapters’) are of different types. Some (e.g. 1, 2, 5, 30–1) seem to be
designed to provide concise and striking formulations of ideas that recur
throughout the Discourses (presumably, including those we have lost). Many
passages offer specific advice about what practices to adopt in order to set about
living the kind of philosophical life recommended by Epictetus (e.g. 3, 4, 6, 10,
11, 12). One passage (33) exceptionally consists of a series of short pieces of
moral advice that are not obviously related to Epictetus’ normal Stoic
framework. The Handbook has been much used, from Marcus Aurelius onwards,
as a source of Stoic ethical advice for ‘self-help’ or ‘guide to life purposes’ (see
Introd., pp. xxx–xxxii and nn. 49–54). However, the Discourses present the
philosophical framework and the modes of discourse that enable us to make
more complete sense of the nature of Epictetus’ ethical teaching.
The notes highlight certain Discourses that explain more fully ideas or advice
offered in brief form in the Handbook. References by numbers alone (e.g. ‘see
2’) are to other chapters in the Handbook.

1 concise statement of Epictetus’ most recurrent theme: see Introd., pp.

xiii–xiv and nn. 14–16.
2 A restatement of the theme of 1, focusing on desire and aversion. For the
idea of suppressing desire for the present, see also 48.3, and note on Disc.
1.4.1.
3 On this topic, see also Disc. 3.24.84–8.
5 See also Disc. 1.28, 3.3.14–15, 3.8.
6 The use of impressions: on the use of impressions, see 1.5 and note on 1.
7 See 3 and note on 3.
9 leg … choice: for the contrast between ‘leg’ and ‘choice’, see Disc.
1.1.23–4, 1.18.17, 1.19.8.
12 See also 13 and Disc. 1.4.
15 Diogenes … Heraclitus: Diogenes the Cynic, and Heraclitus, a Presocratic
thinker of the sixth–fifth century BC who was influential in shaping Stoic
ideas.
17 another’s: i.e. God, conceived as source of providential fate. On playing
your role in life properly, see Disc. 1.2, 2.10.


18 raven croaks: this is used as an example of prophesying the future by

observing birds, a widespread Greek and Roman practice. On Epictetus’
attitude to prophecy, see Disc. 2.7.
19 On this theme, see also note on Disc. 1.19.
27 The idea that a target is set up to be missed is absurd or inconceivable; the
presence of badness in the universal is presented as equally absurd. See LS
54 on the Stoic providential world-view.
29 This chapter, exceptionally, reproduces one of the Discourses (3.15.1–13)
excluding the final para (14) which seems to be an intrusion.
30 See Disc. 3.3.5–10; also Disc. 1.2 and 2.10.
31 On correct attitudes towards the gods, see also Disc. 1.12, 1.13, 1.14.
31.4 Eteocles and Polynices: see also Disc. 2.22.14–21.
32 On Epictetus and prophecy, see Disc. 2.7.
32.3 Socrates: there is no obvious source for this comment in our surviving
evidence for Socrates.


Pythian Apollo: this story underlines the point being made, that you do not
need to consult a prophet in cases where there is a strong moral obligation
to act in a certain way; Apollo himself shows this by throwing out of his
temple someone who has failed to act properly.
33 This chapter consists of a series of moral instructions with little obvious
linkage with Stoic philosophy (except in 33.12) and is unlike the rest of the
Handbook in this respect.


33.11 public readings: recitations of new writings were a normal way of

introducing them to the educated public.
36 This chapter depends on an analogy between logical contradiction (e.g.
between ‘it is day’ and ‘it is night’ if asserted at the same time) and ethical
contradiction, in cases where one ethical claim is in competition with
another.
39 Each person’s … for his property: i.e. bodily needs should set the standard
for the property required; otherwise, we have no objective limit by which
to restrict luxurious possessions.
42 For this theme, see also Disc. 1.28.
composite judgement: i.e. two judgements linked with ‘and’; see also Disc.
2.9.8.
46.1 being overlooked: see note on 3.23.22.
46.2 vomit: for this image, used for speaking with superficial understanding, see
also Disc. 3.21.5.
47 embrace statues: see note on Disc. 3.12.2.
take some cold water … soul: see Disc. 3.12.16.


48.3 of every desire: see note on 2.

49 For this kind of criticism, see also Disc. 2.17.34–40, 2.19.6–15.
51 On the kind of commitment required by the philosophical life, see (also
using the comparison with preparing for the Olympic games) Disc. 3.15,
3.25.1–5.
51.3 to be a Socrates: see also Disc. 1.16.36.
52 The criticism of focusing on more sophisticated types of study when we
have not grasped the more basic or fundamental is close to Disc. 3.2.6–7,
where he is also concerned with the ethical consequences of making this
mistake. But the philosophical topics he discusses here are different from
those of 3.2.1–5, and seem to fall wholly within logic (though they have
ethical implications).
53 The Platonic passages quoted in this chapter are cited frequently in the
Discourses, but not the Euripides fragment. Elsewhere, Epictetus cites only
the first line of the Cleanthes passage (see note on Disc. 2.23.42).
53.1 Guide me … nonetheless: quotation from Cleanthes, Hymn to Zeus.
53.2 Whoever … divine: quotation from Euripides fragment 965 in Nauck’s
edition.
53.3 ‘Well, Crito … so be it’: quotation from Plato, Crito 43d (modified).
53.4 ‘Anytus … harm me’: quotation from Plato, Apology 30c–d.
 INDEX OF NAMES

Entries refer to the Discourses, cited by book, chapter, and paragraph (e.g.
1.27.2), with references at the end to the Fragments (e.g. fr. 5) or Handbook (e.g.
3 or 15.2). This index does not include references to Epictetus as speaker in the
Discourses or to names used in a generic way, e.g. ‘Caesar’ (meaning the
Roman emperor), or phrases such as ‘by Zeus’.

Academic(s) 1.27.2, 1.27.15, 2.20.5, 2.20.20

Academy 4.4.21
Acheron 3.13.15
Achilles 1.11.31, 1.22.5–6, 1.25.10, 1.28.31, 2.23.32, 2.24.21, 2.24.24, 2.24.26,
3.22.7, 3.23.35
Acropolis 1.16.32, 3.24.73
Admetus 2.22.11, 3.20.6
Adonis 4.8.36
Adriatic 2.6.20
Aegistheus 3.1.39
Aeolus 1.1.16, 3.22.78
Agamemnon 1.22.5, 1.25.10, 1.28.24, 1.28.31, 2.24.21, 2.24.24, 3.22.7, 3.22.30,
4.2.10
Agrippinus 1.1.28, 1.2.12–13, fr. 21, fr. 22
Ajax 2.9.22, 2.24.25
Alcibiades 2.18.22, 3.1.42
Alexander 2.13.24, 2.22.17, 3.22.92, 3.24.70
Amphiaraus 2.22.32
Andromache 3.22.103
Antigonus 2.13.14–15
Antilochus 4.10.31
Antipater 2.17.40, 2.19.9, 3.2.13, 3.21.7
Antisthenes 1.17.12, 2.17.36, 3.22.63, 3.24.67–8, 4.1.114, 4.6.20
Anytus 1.29.18, 2.2.15, 2.5.18, 3.23.21, Handbook 53.4
Apollo 3.1.16–17, 3.13.4, Handbook 32.3
Apollonius 3.12.16
Aprulla 4.1.146
Archedemus 2.4.10–11, 2.17.40, 2.19.9, 3.2.13, 3.2.15, 3.21.7
Archelaus fr. 11
Archidamas 4.1.156
Argos 3.24.14, 3.26.31
Argus 3.1.39, 3.22.103
Aricia, 1.1.30, fr. 21
Aristides 4.9.6
Aristophanes 4.11.20
Arrian prefatory letter (heading), fr. 5, fr. 10
Asclepius 2.22.17, 4.8.29
Athena 2.8.18, 2.8.20, 2.19.26, 3.13.4
Athenian(s) 1.29.16, 2.20.26, 2.22.22, 3.7.19, 3.22.52, 3.22.84, 3.24.73,
4.1.30–1, 4.1.157, 4.1.164
Athens 1.25.19, 2.16.32, 2.16.36, 3.22.84, 3.24.14, 3.24.40, 3.24.54, 3.24.66,
3.24.77, 3.24.100, 3.24.109, 4.1.168, 4.4.34, 4.4.36
Atreus 1.28.32
Attica 2.16.45
Automedon 4.10.33

Baton 1.2.26
Briseis 1.25.10

Callicles 4.5.3
Calypso 2.19.10
Capitol 1.7.32–3, 1.19.25, 3.24.117
Cassiope 3.7.3
Cassius 4.3.12
Chaeronea 3.22.24
Chrysantas 2.6.15
Chryseis 1.22.7–8, 2.24.21
Chrysippus 1.4.6–7, 1.4.9, 1.4.28, 1.10.10, 1.17.11, 1.17.13, 1.17.15,
1.17.17–18, 2.6.9, 2.16.34, 2.17.34, 2.17.40, 2.19.5, 2.19.9, 2.19.14, 2.23.44,
3.2.13, 3.21.7, 3.24.81, 4.9.6, fr. 9, Handbook 49
Cicyonians 2.19.12
Circus 4.10.21
Cithaeron 1.24.16
Cleanthes 1.17.11, 2.19.5, 2.19.9, 2.19.14, 3.23.32, 3.26.23, 4.1.173, 4.4.34
Cnossians 3.9.3
Cocytus 3.13.15
Corinth 2.16.36, 2.17.22, 3.1.34, 3.24.66
Corinthian(s) 3.22.84, 4.1.157
Crates 3.22.63, 3.22.76
Crinus 3.2.15
Crito 1.4.24, 4.1.163, Handbook 53.3
Croesus 1.2.37, 3.22.27
Cybele 2.20.17
Cynic(s) 3.22.1, 3.22.11, 3.22.15–16, 3.22.23–4, 3.22.50, 3.22.54, 3.22.56,
3.22.62–3, 3.22.64–5, 3.22.67–9, 3.22.74–5, 3.22.77, 3.22.79–81, 3.22.86,
3.22.89–90, 3.22.93–4, 3.22.100, 4.8.30, fr. 10, fr. 10a
Cyrus 4.6.20

Danaus 3.22.78
Deiphobus 2.19.7
Demeter 2.20.32, 3.21.12
Demetrius 1.25.22
Demosthenes 2.23.44
Diodorus 2.19.5
Dio 3.22.17, 3.22.19
Diogenes 1.24.9, 2.3.1, 2.13.24, 2.16.35, 2.19.14, 3.2.11, 3.21.19, 3.22.24,
3.22.57, 3.22.60, 3.22.63, 3.22.80, 3.22.88, 3.22.91, 3.24.40, 3.24.64, 3.24.68,
3.26.23, 4.1.30, 4.1.114, 4.1.152, 4.1.155–6, 4.1.158, 4.7.29, 4.9.6, 4.11.21,
Handbook 15
Dion 2.2.23, 2.13.20
Dioscuri 2.18.29
Dirce 2.16.30
Domitian 2.7.8

Ecbatana 2.16.36
Egyptian(s) 1.11.12–13, 1.22.4, 2.9.20, 2.11.15
Eleusis 3.21.13
Epaminondas 3.22.78
Epaphroditus 1.1.20, 1.19.19, 1.26.11–12
Ephesus 4.5.37
Epicurean(s) 2.19.20, 2.19.22, 2.20.13, 3.7.1, 3.7.8, 3.7.19, 3.24.38–9
Epicurus 1.20.17–18, 1.23.1, 1.23.3, 1.23.5, 2.9.19, 2.20.6, 2.20.15, 2.20.17,
2.20.20, 2.23.21, 3.7.8, 3.7.12, fr. 14
Epirus 3.4.1
Eriphyle 2.22.32
Eteocles 2.22.13–4, 4.5.29, Handbook 31.4
Euphrates 3.15.8, 4.8.17
Euripides 1.28.32, 2.16.31
Eurystheus 2.16.44, 3.22.57, 3.26.32
Evenus 4.9.6

Favorinus fr. 10
Felicio 1.19.20–21, 4.1.150
Fever (as god) 1.19.6
Florus 1.2.12–13
Furies 2.20.17

Galba 3.15.14
Galileans 4.7.6
Geta 4.1.19
Getae 2.22.22
Gratilla 2.7.8
Greece 3.24.25, 3.24.77
Greek(s) 2.24.22, 2.24.26, 3.7.13, 3.7.30, 3.22.32, 3.22.34
Gyara 1.25.20, 2.6.22, 3.24.100, 3.24.109, 3.24.113, 4.4.34

Hades 2.6.18, 3.13.15

Hector 2.19.7, 2.24.22, 2.24.25, 3.22.7, 3.22.108
Hecuba 2.19.7
Helen 1.28, 2.19.10, 2.23.32
Hellanicus 2.19.7, 2.19.14
Helvidius Priscus 1.2.19, 1.2.22, 4.1.123
Hephaestus 4.8.21
Hera 3.13.4
Heracles 1.6.32–3, 1.6.36, 2.16.44–5, 2.18.22, 3.22.57, 3.24.13, 3.26.31–2,
4.10.10
Heraclitus (friend of Epictetus) 2.2.15
Heraclitus (Presocratic thinker) Handbook 15
Hermes 3.1.39, 3.20.12
Hesiod 2.18.31
Hippias 3.5.17
Hippocrates 1.8.11–12, 2.17.8
Hippolytus 1.28.32
Homer 2.19.7, 3.22.78, 3.24.18, 4.10.36, Handbook 49

Iliad 1.28.12–13
Ilion 2.19.12
Isocrates 3.23.20
Isthmian 3.4.11
Italicus 3.8.7

Jews 1.11.12–13, 1.22.4, 2.9.19–21

Laius 3.1.16–17
Lateranus 1.1.19
Leon 4.1.160, 4.7.30
Lesbius 3.20.19
Lucius Gellius prefatory letter (heading)
Lyceum 3.24.77, 4.4.21
Lycurgus 2.20.26, fr. 5
Lysias 3.23.20

Macedonians 2.22.22
Manes 3.26.37
Marcian aqueduct 2.16.30
Masurius 4.3.12
Maximus 3.7.3, 3.7.10
Medea 1.28.7, 2.17.19, 4.13.14
Meletus 1.29.18, 2.2.15, 3.23.21, Handbook 53.4
Menelaus 1.28.12–13, 2.22.23
Menoeceus 3.20.5
Milo 1.2.37
Musonius Rufus see Rufus
Mycenae 3.26.32
Myron 3.22.27
Mysia 1.25.15

Nausicaa 3.26.33
Nemean 3.4.11
Nero 1.1.19, 1.2.12, 1.25.22, 2.16.31, 3.22.30, 4.5.18, fr. 21
Nicopolis 1.19.28, 1.25.19, 1.26.10, 2.6.20, 2.21.14, 3.22.52, 4.1.14
Numenius 3.7.31

Odysseus 1.12.3, 2.2, 3.24.13, 3.24.18, 3.24.20, 3.26.33, fr. 11

Odyssey 1.28.13
Oedipus 1.4.25, 1.24.18, fr. 11
Oedipus 1.28.32
Olympia 1.2.26, 1.6.23, 1.6.26, 1.18.22, 1.29.36, 2.8.26, 3.22.58, 3.24.52,
4.1.106, 4.4.24
Olympic 3.4.11, 3.15.2, 3.22.51–2, 3.24.52, Handbook 51.2
Ophellius 3.22.27
Orestes 2.20.17
Pan 3.22.11
Panthoides 2.19.5
Paris 1.28.12, 1.28.22, 2.19.7, 2.22.23
Patroclus 1.11.31, 1.28.24, 4.10.31
Peiraeus 3.34.73
Perrhaebians 3.24.66
Perdiccas 3.24.70
Peripatetic(s) 2.19.20, 2.19.22
Persephone 2.29.32
Persians 4.1.30, 4.1.156
Pheidias 1.6.23, 2.8.18, 2.8.20, 2.19.23, 2.19.26
Philip 2.13.24, 3.22.24, 3.24.70
Philostorgus 3.17.4
Phoenix 2.24.26
Phoenix 1.28.32
Plato 1.8.11, 1.8.13, 2.17.5, 2.17.11, 2.17.36, 2.18.20, 2.22.36, 4.1.172, fr. 15
Plautus Lateranus see Lateranus
Pluto 2.20.32
Polemo 3.1.14, 4.11.30
Polus 4.5.3, fr. 11
Polynices 2.22.13–14, 4.5.29, Handbook 31.4
Priam 1.4.25, 2.19.7, 2.19.10, 3.22.78
Procrustes 2.16.45
Protagoras 3.5.17
Protesilaus 4.10.31
Pyriphlegethon 3.13.15
Pyrrhonists 1.27.2
Pythagoras 4.6.32
Pythian 2.20.27, 3.4.11

Quadratus 3.23.23

Republic fr. 15
Rhodes 2.2.17
Roman(s) 1.11.12–13, 1.22.4, 2.22.22, 3.8.7, 3.22.84, 3.24.41, Handbook 26.2
Rome 1.25.19, 1.26.10, 2.6.22–3, 2.12.17, 2.14.18, 3.1.27, 3.7.13, 3.9.2–3, 3.9.6,
3.23.27, 3.24.25, 3.24.77, 3.24.100, 3.24.109, 4.4.34, 4.4.37, 4.13.5, fr. 15
Rufus 1.1.27, 1.7.32, 1.9.29, 3.6.10, 3.15.14, 3.23.29

Salamis 4.7.30
Sardanapalus 3.22.30
Sarpedon 1.27.8
Saturnalia 1.25.8, 1.29.31, 4.1.58
Sciron 2.16.45
Socrates 1.2.33, 1.2.35, 1.4.24, 1.9.1, 1.9.22, 1.12.3, 1.12.23, 1.17.12, 1.19.6,
1.25.31, 1.26.18, 1.29.16–17, 1.29.29, 1.29.65–6, 2.1.32, 2.2.8, 2.2.15, 2.2.18,
2.4.8, 2.5.18, 2.6.26, 2.12.5, 2.12.14, 2.13.24, 2.16.35, 2.18.22, 2.26.6–7,
3.1.19, 3.1.21, 3.1.42, 3.5.17, 3.7.34, 3.7.36, 3.12.15, 3.14.9, 3.16.5, 3.18.4,
3.21.19, 3.22.26, 3.23.22, 3.23.25, 3.23.32, 3.24.38, 3.24.40, 3.24.60, 3.24.99,
4.1.41, 4.1.123, 4.1.159, 4.1.164, 4.1.169, 4.4.21–2, 4.5.1, 4.5.33, 4.7.29,
4.8.22, 4.9.6, 4.11.19, 4.11.21, fr. 11, Handbook 5, 32.3, 46.2, 51.3
Socratic literature 3.23.20
Sophocles 1.28.32
Sophron 3.4.9, 3.4.11
Sparta 2.20.26
Spartan(s) 2.22.22, 3.7.19, 3.22.52, 4.1.156–7, 4.5.37, fr. 5
Stoic 1.29.56, 2.9.19, 2.19.19, 2.19.21, 2.19.22–4, 2.20.12, 3.7.17, 3.24.41, fr. 9
Sura 3.17.4
Susa 2.16.36
Symphorus 3.7.31
Syrian(s) 1.11.12–13, 1.22.4, 2.9.20, 2.11.15

Thebes 3.24.14, 3.24.100

Theban(s) 2.22.22, 3.22.78
Theon 2.2.23
Theopompus 2.17.5, 2.17.7
Thermopylae 2.20.26, 3.23.38
Thersites 2.23.32, 3.22.8, 4.2.10
Theseus 2.16.45
Trajan 4.5.17
Thrasea (Paetus) 1.1.26
Thrasonides 4.1.19
Thrasymachus 4.5.3
Triptolemus 1.4.30
Trojan(s) 2.24.22, 3.22.33, 3.22.36
Troy 1.28.22, 2.22.22, 3.22.7, 3.22.36

Vespasian 1.2.19

Xenocrates 4.11.30
Xenophon 1.17.12, 2.12.15, 2.17.35, 4.5.3, fr. 23
Xerxes 3.23.38

Zeno 1.17.11, 1.20.14, 2.13.14–15, 3.21.19, 3.23.32, 3.24.38, 4.8.12, 4.9.6, fr. 5
Zeus 1.1.10, 1.1.23, 1.6.37, 1.12.25, 1.13.3–4, 1.14.11, 1.19.9, 1.19.11–12,
1.22.15–16, 1.25.3, 1.25.5, 1.27.8, 1.27.13, 2.8.18–19, 2.8.26, 2.17.22,
2.17.25, 2.19.26–7, 2.23.42, 2.24.25, 3.3.10, 3.4.7, 3.11.4–5, 3.13.4, 3.13.7,
3.22.23, 3.22.34, 3.22.56–7, 3.22.82, 3.22.95, 3.24.16, 3.24.19, 3.24.24,
3.24.65, 3.24.112–13, 3.24.117, 4.1.90, 4.1.131, 4.4.34, 4.6.5, 4.7.35, 4.8.30,
4.8.32, Handbook 53.1
 INDEX OF MAIN THEMES

Entries refer to the Discourses, cited by book and chapter (e.g. 2.4) or book,
chapter and paragraph(s) (e.g. 1.28.6–10), with references at the end to the
Fragments (e.g. fr. 9) or Handbook (e.g. 32).

adultery, not defensible 2.4

anger: can be avoided by use of philosophy 1.15
result of mistaken ideas about what matters 1.18, 1.28.6–10
anxiety, based on erroneous beliefs about what matters in life 2.13
artistry, correct: consists in patterning yourself on God 2.8.18–28, 2.19.23–34
attention 4.12
to what is and is not up to us 4.12.7–14

choice, human capacity of: inviolable 1.1.23–4, 1.17.21–6, 3.22.38–44,

4.1.69–81, 89–90
perfection of, through ethical development 1.4.18–21
only really valuable feature of human life 1.18.8–23, 1.19.17–23, 1.29.1–29,
2.1.4–13, 2.2, 2.23.7–19, 34–5
see also good, within our power and not contrast
citizenship of universe 1.9.1–7
cleanliness 4.11
appropriate for philosophers 4.11.19–30
characteristically human 4.11.1–4, 11–14, 32
inner 4.11.5–8
outer 4.11.9–12
communicating ethical truths to non-philosophers, difficulty of 1.29.33–66,
2.12.1–5, 11–13, 2.14, 2.24, 3.9
confidence and caution, proper basis of 2.1
Cynic (ideal) 3.22
 and friendship 3.22.62–6
life-style exemplary 1.24.6–13, 4.1.152–8, 4.8.30–3
and marriage and parentage 3.22.67–83
needs to endure difficulties with equanimity 3.22.54–62
needs to be effective in communicating key ethical messages 3.22.26–44
and public affairs 3.22.83–5
requires special qualities of nature, commitment and character 3.22.2–25,
45–52, 86–106
desolation: results from not recognizing that what matters in life is up to us 3.20
development, ethical: combines progress in understanding values and social
relationships 3.3
consists in progress towards virtue 1.4.3–4
depends on study of logic 1.7
depends on training 2.17, 3.12
real nature of 1.4
see also philosophy, should be directed at promoting ethical development
dialectic (Socratic), as model of communication with non-philosophers 2.12,
2.26
difficulties, provide the material for developing virtue 1.24, 1.25, 1.29.33–49,
2.6, 3.5, 3.10
divination, cannot tell us what really matters 2.7, Handbook 32

effeminacy (in a man), criticism of 3.1

Epicureanism: ethical claims self-refuting 2.20.6–28, 2.23.20–2
and the good 1.20.17–19, 2.23.20–2, 3.7.2–10, 3.24.38–9
and society 1.23, 2.20.6–21, 3.7.11–23

family affection 1.11

natural and reasonable forms of 1.11.5–26
faults, ethical, reluctance to acknowledge in oneself 2.21.1–7
fear, freedom from: derives from recognizing that what really matters is up to us
4.7
freedom, real 4.1
consists in rational choice of what is within our power and accepting what is
 inevitable 1.12.8–35, 4.1.1–5, 29–32, 52–110, 128–31, 170–5
contrasted with conventional freedom 4.1.6–14, 33–40
depends on getting rid of errors and passions 2.1.23–8, 3.24.69–77, 4.1.15–23
friendship: exemplified by Diogenes (4.1.152–8) and Socrates (159–69)
stability of depends on ethical understanding 2.22
undermined by error about what is truly beneficial 2.22.15–37

god(s): acceptable behaviour towards 1.13.1–2

following god and human freedom 1.11.8–12, 32–5
kinship to 1.3, 1.9.1–25
omniscience of 1.14.1–10
piety towards, and distinguishing what is and is not up to us Handbook 31
within each of us (= reason) 2.8.12–14
good, nature of: consists in acting well, whatever the consequences 1.25.7–31
consists in correct use of impressions 2.8.4–9
defined as what falls within scope of agency/choice 22.11–17, 1.25.1–6,
1.28.21–7, 1.29, 1.30, 2.1.4–13, 2.2, 2.13.9–10, 2.16.1–10, 2.22.18–21,
28–30, 3.3.14–15, 3.8, 3.20, 3.22.38–44, 4.3, 4.4.23–48, 4.6.9–10, 36–8,
4.7.8–11, 35–41, 4.10.9–10
see also within our power and not contrast
guardian-spirit (= human reason) 1.14.11–17

happiness, results from recognizing that what matters is up to us 2.17.18–26

harm, only derives from our own agency 2.10.24–9, 3.18, 3.19
human nature, distinctive features of 1.6.10–22
and being spectator of nature 1.6.19–25
and enduring difficulties 1.6.26–43, 1.9.18–24
inheres in rational capacity for virtue 2.8, 2.9.1–12, 2.10.1–6

impressions: basis of motivation and action 1.28

correct use of 1.1.7–13, 1.6.13, 18, 1.20.7–12, 2.8.4–9, Handbook 6
examination of 2.18.23–7, 3.8, Handbook 1.5
indifferents (externals): provide the material for developing towards virtue 2.5,
2.6
 unimportance of (compared to what is up to us) 2.16.11–27
indiscretion in sharing personal matters 4.13
inevitable events, acceptance of 1.1.17–32, 2.6.8–27, 2.16.28–47, 3.13.11–17,
4.10.10–17, Handbook 53
within capacity of human nature 1.6.26–43
and human kinship to god 1.9.16–25, 1.12.8–35
interpersonal relations, correct management of 3.24
and accepting (one’s own and others’) death 3.24.27–30, 3.24.84–102,
Handbook 3
and avoiding quarrels by recognizing that happiness depends on us 4.5
and being affectionate 3.24.58–68, 82–3
and being consistent with ethical principles 3.3.5–10, 4.2, Handbook 30
and travelling 3.24.8–26
see also family affection, roles, social, maintenance of

judgements, determine happiness and its opposite 2.16.20–6, 3.3.18–19,

Handbook 5, 16

logic (dialectic): needs to be directed at ethical development (not an end in itself)

1.8.4–10, 2.17.1–13, 34, 2.19, 2.21.17–21, 2.23.41–4, 3.2.6–17
essential basis for ethical development 1.7, 1.17.4–12, 1.26

motivation, human, determined by what people think is beneficial 1.11.27–37,

1.28, 2.22.15–21

passions: result of failure to recognize that what matters is up to us 2.17.17–26

freedom from (peace of mind) 2.1.8–22, 4.4.1–10, 4.10
and pre–emotions fr. 9
philosopher, real: characterized by beliefs and actions not appearance 4.8
exemplified by Socrates (4.8.22–9) and (ideal) Cynic (4.8.30–3)
philosophy: as a worthwhile form of human activity 1.10.7–13
enables us to respond properly to competing opinions 2.11.13–24
helps us to live life ‘according to nature’ 1.15
not just a matter of interpreting texts 1.4.14–17, 1.17.13–18, 3.17.34–6,
3.21.7–8, 4.4.11–18, Handbook 49
 requires commitment and training 3.15, 3.21, 3.24.31–6, 3.24.103–15, 3.25,
4.1.111–13, 4.4.23–48, 4.6.30–7, 4.6.34–43, Handbook 51
requires consistency between words and actions 4.1.132–43, fr. 10
requires special natural qualities 3.21.18–22
should be directed at promoting ethical development 1.4, 1.8.11–14,
2.1.29–40, 2.9.13–22, 2.13.20–7, 2.14.7–22, 2.16.34–6, 2.17, 2.19, 2.21.9–22,
3.2.6–17, 3.10, 3.21, 3.24.78–81, 3.26.8–39, 4.4.11–18, 45–8, 4.6.11–19,
Handbook 22
philosophy-based practical ethics, three topics of 1.4.11–12, 2.17.15–16, 31–3,
3.2.1–5, 3.12.4–15, 3.26.14–15, 4.10.13
preconceptions, errors derive from wrong application of 1.22.1–9, 2.11.2–12,
2.17.1–14, 4.1.41–5
providence: and natural universe 1.6.1–9, 2.14.25–7, fr. 8
and distinctively human (rational) nature 1.6.10–22, 2.8.11–29, fr. 3
and gods 1.12.1–7
and human–animal distinction 1.16.1–8, 2.8.1–11
and male-female distinction 1.16.9–14
providence, divine, proper form of hymn to 1.16.15–21

reason, capable of examining itself 1.1.1–6, 1.17.1–4, 1.20.1–6

reason-body contrast 1.3.3–6, 1.9.8–15
reasonable and not reasonable: criteria of 1.2.1–6
and acting ‘according to nature’ 1.11.16–24
rhetoric (faculty of expression), worthy of study, but should be directed at ethical
development 2.23
roles, social, maintenance of: compatible with acting virtuously 1.2, 2.10.7–21,
3.24.44–57
depends on using ethical judgement 3.17

Scepticism 1.27
Academic, self-refuting 2.20.1–5, 28–37
can be countered by well-grounded beliefs 1.27.3–14
debates about less important than ethical concerns 1.27.15–21
and refusal to listen to reason 1.5
self-love, compatible with love of others 1.19.11–15, 2.22.18–21
shamelessness 4.9
sicknesses, psychological 2.18.8–12
and philosophy as therapy 3.21.20–1, 3.23.30–1
slavery, real, consists in surrendering to things that are not in our power
4.1.15–23, 33–40, 144–50
sophist (display lecturer), characteristics of 3.23.6–19
contrasted with the philosopher 3.23.20–38
stubbornness 2.15
suicide, a reasonable option under certain circumstances 1.24.20, 1.25.18–25,
2.15.4–12

tyrants, have no real power over us 1.19.1–10

virtue: consists in playing the game of life well 1.25.7–11, 2.5.18–23

goal of ethical development 1.4

within our power and not (‘up to us’ and not ‘up to us’) contrast 1.1.7–17,
1.1.21–5, 1.22.9–11, 2.2, 2.16.1–17, 41–7, 4.1.62–110, 128–31, 4.4.23–48,
4.6.9–10, 36–8, 4.7.8–11, 35–41, 4.10, 4.12.7–14, fr. 4, Handbook 1.1–3, 2,
14, 19, 31
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A SELECTION OXFORD WORLD’S CLASSICS
OF

Classical Literary Criticism

The First Philosophers: The Presocratics and the

Sophists

Greek Lyric Poetry

Myths from Mesopotamia

APOLLODORUS The Library of Greek Mythology

APOLLONIUS OF RHODES Jason and the Golden Fleece

APULEIUS The Golden Ass

ARISTOPHANES Birds and Other Plays

ARISTOTLE The Nicomachean Ethics

Physics
Politics
BOETHIUS The Consolation of Philosophy

CAESAR The Civil War

The Gallic War
CATULLUS The Poems of Catullus

CICERO Defence Speeches

 The Nature of the Gods
On Obligations
Political Speeches
The Republic and The Laws
EURIPIDES Bacchae and other plays

Heracles and other plays

Medea and Other Plays
Orestes and Other Plays
The Trojan Women and Other Plays
HERODOTUS The Histories

HOMER The Iliad

The Odyssey
HORACE The Complete Odes and Epodes

JUVENAL The Satires

LIVY The Dawn of the Roman Empire

Hannibal’s War
The Rise of Rome
MARCUS AURELIUS The Meditations

OVID The Love Poems

Metamorphoses
PETRONIUS The Satyricon

PLATO Defence of Socrates, Euthyphro, and Crito

 Gorgias
Meno and Other Dialogues
Phaedo
Republic
Selected Myths
Symposium
PLAUTUS Four Comedies

PLUTARCH Greek Lives

Roman Lives
Selected Essays and Dialogues
PROPERTIUS The Poems

SOPHOCLES Antigone, Oedipus the King, and Electra

STATIUS Thebaid

SUETONIUS Lives of the Caesars

TACITUS Agricola and Germany

The Histories
VIRGIL The Aeneid

The Eclogues and Georgics

XENOPHON The Expedition of Cyrus

THOMAS AQUINAS Selected Philosophical Writings

FRANCIS BACON The Essays

WALTER BAGEHOT The English Constitution

GEORGE BERKELEY Principles of Human Knowledge and Three

Dialogues

EDMUND BURKE A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our

Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful

Reflections on the Revolution in France

CONFUCIUS The Analects

DESCARTES A Discourse on the Method

ÉMILE DURKHEIM The Elementary Forms of Religious Life

FRIEDRICH ENGELS The Condition of the Working Class in England

JAMES GEORGE FRAZER The Golden Bough

SIGMUND FREUD The Interpretation of Dreams

THOMAS HOBBES Human Nature and De Corpore Politico

Leviathan
DAVID HUME Selected Essays

NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI The Prince

THOMAS MALTHUS An Essay on the Principle of Population

KARL MARX Capital

The Communist Manifesto

J. S. MILL On Liberty and Other Essays
 Principles of Political Economy and Chapters on
Socialism
FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE Beyond Good and Evil

The Birth of Tragedy

On the Genealogy of Morals
Thus Spoke Zarathustra
Twilight of the Idols
THOMAS PAINE Rights of Man, Common Sense, and Other
Political Writings

JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU The Social Contract

Discourse on the Origin of Inequality
ADAM SMITH An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the
Wealth of Nations

MARY A Vindication of the Rights of Woman

WOLLSTONECRAFT

Bhagavad Gita

The Bible Authorized King James Version With

Apocrypha

Dhammapada

Dharmasūtras

The Koran

The Pañcatantra
 The Sauptikaparvan (from the Mahabharata)

The Tale of Sinuhe and Other Ancient Egyptian

Poems

The Qur’an

Upani ads

ANSELM OF CANTERBURY The Major Works

THOMAS AQUINAS Selected Philosophical Writings

AUGUSTINE The Confessions

On Christian Teaching
BEDE The Ecclesiastical History

HEMACANDRA The Lives of the Jain Elders

KĀLIDĀSA The Recognition of Śakuntala

MANJHAN Madhumalati

ŚĀNTIDEVA The Bodhicary vat ra

The Anglo-Saxon World

Beowulf

Lancelot of the Lake

The Paston Letters

 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Tales of the Elders of Ireland

York Mystery Plays

GEOFFREY CHAUCER The Canterbury Tales

Troilus and Criseyde

HENRY OF HUNTINGDON The History of the English People 1000–1154

JOCELIN OF BRAKELOND Chronicle of the Abbey of Bury St Edmunds

GUILLAUME DE LORRIS The Romance of the Rose

and JEAN DE MEUN

WILLIAM LANGLAND Piers Plowman

SIR THOMAS MALORY Le Morte Darthur

An Anthology of Elizabethan Prose Fiction

An Anthology of Seventeenth-Century Fiction

Early Modern Women’s Writing

Three Early Modern Utopias (Utopia; New

Atlantis; The Isle of Pines)

FRANCIS BACON Essays

The Major Works

APHRA BEHN Oroonoko and Other Writings
 The Rover and Other Plays
JOHN BUNYAN Grace Abounding

The Pilgrim’s Progress

JOHN DONNE The Major Works

Selected Poetry
BEN JONSON The Alchemist and Other Plays

The Devil is an Ass and Other Plays

Five Plays
JOHN MILTON The Major Works

Paradise Lost
Selected Poetry
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY The Old Arcadia

The Major Works

IZAAK WALTON The Compleat Angler

Travel Writing 1700–1830

Women’s Writing 1778–1838

WILLIAM BECKFORD Vathek

JAMES BOSWELL Life of Johnson

FRANCES BURNEY Camilla

Cecilia
Evelina
 The Wanderer
LORD CHESTERFIELD Lord Chesterfield’s Letters

JOHN CLELAND Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure

DANIEL DEFOE A Journal of the Plague Year

Moll Flanders
Robinson Crusoe
Roxana
HENRY FIELDING Jonathan Wild

Joseph Andrews and Shamela

Tom Jones
WILLIAM GODWIN Caleb Williams

OLIVER GOLDSMITH The Vicar of Wakefield

MARY HAYS Memoirs of Emma Courtney

ELIZABETH INCHBALD A Simple Story

SAMUEL JOHNSON The History of Rasselas

The Major Works

CHARLOTTE LENNOX The Female Quixote

MATTHEW LEWIS Journal of a West India Proprietor

The Monk
HENRY MACKENZIE The Man of Feeling
ALEXANDER POPE Selected Poetry

ANN RADCLIFFE The Italian

The Mysteries of Udolpho

The Romance of the Forest
A Sicilian Romance
CLARA REEVE The Old English Baron

SAMUEL RICHARDSON Pamela

RICHARD BRINSLEY The School for Scandal and Other Plays

SHERIDAN

TOBIAS SMOLLETT The Adventures of Roderick Random

The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

LAURENCE STERNE The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy,
Gentleman

A Sentimental Journey
JONATHAN SWIFT Gulliver’s Travels

Major Works
A Tale of a Tub and Other Works
JOHN VANBRUGH The Relapse and Other Plays

HORACE WALPOLE The Castle of Otranto

MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT Mary and The Wrongs of Woman

A Vindication of the Rights of Woman
1 All dates are AD unless otherwise indicated.
 2 All references are to the Discourses unless otherwise indicated; references

are to Book and Discourse (e.g. 4.8) and sometimes also the paragraph within
the Discourse (e.g. 4.8.3).
 3 Although various titles were attached in antiquity to the main writings

(Diatribai or Dissertationes, both meaning ‘informal talks’), it seems unlikely

that Arrian gave the work any title: the title used here, Discourses, is one
conventionally used to identify the work. See A. A. Long, Epictetus: A Stoic and
Socratic Guide to Life (Oxford, 2002), 38–43.
 4 Study of formal logic (valid and invalid forms of reasoning) formed a central

part of philosophical training in the early Imperial period, and not only in Stoic
schools; Epictetus’ works represent an important source for this training: see J.
Barnes, Logic and the Imperial Stoa (Leiden, 1997), ch. 3; P. Crivelli, ‘Epictetus
and Logic’, in T. Scaltsas and A. S. Mason (eds.), The Philosophy of Epictetus
(Oxford, 2007).
 5 See e.g. 1.4.6–15, 1.7.1–8, 1.17.13–18, 3.21.7–9. See also Long, Epictetus,

ch. 4; J. M. Cooper, ‘The Relevance of Moral Theory to Moral Improvement in

Epictetus’, in Scaltsas and Mason (eds.), Philosophy of Epictetus.
 6 On this conception of philosophy in the Hellenistic–Roman period and the

distinctive Stoic thesis on virtue and happiness, see J. Annas, The Morality of
Happiness (Oxford, 1993), chs. 1, 19, 22; R. W. Sharples, Stoics, Epicureans
and Sceptics: An Introduction to Hellenistic Philosophy (London, 1996), ch. 5; J.
Sellars, Stoicism (Chesham, 2006), ch. 5. For evidence for the Stoic position, see
A. A. Long and D. N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, 2 vols. (Cambridge,
1987), 58, 63, hereafter referred to as LS; references are to sections and passages
unless otherwise indicated.
 7 See e.g. 1.11 (also Long, Epictetus, 77–9), centred on a father’s reaction to

his daughter’s illness.

 8 See LS 26: topics such as psychology (LS 53), theology (LS 54), and

determinism (LS 62) fall in the interface between these branches of knowledge.
See also C. Gill, The Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman Thought (Oxford,
2006), 160–6, 197–203.
 9 See LS 56 A; this list forms the basis for the selection of evidence in LS 56–

66 (except for 62). The main summaries of Stoic ethics are in Cicero, On Ends 3;
Diogenes Laertius 7.84–131; Stobaeus 2.5–12 (= 2.57–116 in the edition of C.
Wachsmuth and O. Hense (Berlin, 1884–1912; repr. 1958)). For complete
translations, see B. Inwood and L. P. Gerson, Hellenistic Philosophy:
Introductory Readings (Indianapolis, 1997), 190–260; B. Inwood and L. P.
Gerson, The Stoics Reader: Selected Writings and Testimonia (Indianapolis,
2008), 113–76. See also M. Schofield, ‘Stoic Ethics’, in B. Inwood (ed.), The
Cambridge Companion to the Stoics (Cambridge, 2003).
 10 A. Bonhöffer, Epictet und die Stoa: Untersuchungen zur Stoischen

Philosophie (Stuttgart, 1890; repr. 1968); Die Ethik der Stoikers Epictet (1894;
repr. 1968), trans. as The Ethics of the Stoic Epictetus by W. O. Stephens (New
York, 1996); also Epiktet und das Neue Testament (Giessen, 1911; repr. 1964),
rejecting the idea that Epictetus was influenced by early Christian ideas.
 11 Long, Epictetus, 46–8; see also R. Dobbin, Epictetus: Discourses Book 1

(Oxford, 1998), pp. xiv–xix.

 12 P. Hadot, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to

Foucault (Oxford, 1995), 191–5; P. Hadot, The Inner Citadel: The Meditations
of Marcus Aurelius, trans. M. Chase (Cambridge, Mass., 1998), ch. 5; J. Sellars,
The Art of Living: The Stoics on the Nature and Function of Philosophy
(Aldershot, 2003), 134–42; G. Roskam, On the Path to Virtue: The Stoic
Doctrine of Moral Progress and its Reception in (Middle-) Platonism (Leuven,
2005), ch. 6. For the three-topic programme, see 3.2.1–5 and references in nn.
26, 38–9.
 13 These three topics correspond broadly with those identified as central for

Epictetus in Long, Epictetus, ch. 8 (on autonomy), chs. 7 and 9 (on ethics and
ethical development), and ch. 6 (on human nature and theology).
 14 See e.g. Handbook 1, 2, 5; also 1.1.7–12, 1.4.1–3, 1.12. See also Long,

Epictetus, ch. 8; R. Sorabji, ‘Epictetus on Proairesis and Self’, in Scaltsas and

Mason (eds.), Philosophy of Epictetus.
 15 See B. Inwood, Ethics and Human Action in Early Stoicism (Oxford, 1985),

115–25 and app. 2.

 16 See LS 33 C, I, 53 Q(1); 65 A–K (on emotions); Handbook 5, 20, 42;

1.18.1, 3.2.1–5. See also T. Brennan, ‘Stoic Moral Psychology’, in Inwood (ed.),
Cambridge Companion to the Stoics; Gill, Structured Self in Hellenistic and
Roman Thought, 139–45; M. R. Graver, Stoicism and Emotion (Chicago, 2007),
ch. 2.
17 See references in n. 6.
 18 Contrast Cicero, On Ends 3–4, where this Stoic thesis is examined and

debated in depth. On the character and aim of Epictetus’ discussions, see text to
nn. 4–7.
 19 See Cicero, On Ends 3.17–22 (= LS 59 D); LS 57 A, 58; see also Inwood,

Ethics and Human Action in Early Stoicism, ch. 6; Annas, Morality of

Happiness, ch. 5; Gill, Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman Thought, 129–
66.
 20 See Cicero, On Ends 3.62–8 (= LS 57 F); LS 57 G–H; see also Annas,

Morality of Happiness, 262–75; M. Schofield, ‘Social and Political Thought’, in

K. Algra et al. (eds.), The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy
(Cambridge, 1999), 760–8.
 21 On the two kinds and their possible linkage, see LS 57 D–E; Annas,

Morality of Happiness, 275–6. On the relationship between the two kinds in

Roman philosophy, see G. Reydams-Schils, The Roman Stoics: Self,
Responsibility, and Affection (Chicago, 2005), ch. 2.
 22 This is sometimes seen as reflecting the influence of the early Stoic thinker

Aristo (on whom, see LS 58 F–G): see Long, Epictetus, 184–5, 201–2; Roskam,
On the Path to Virtue, 112–14. But it may reflect, instead, a pedagogic focus on
the moral ideal towards which he urges his students.
 23 See the illustrative readings of 1.1 and 1.2, pp. xxii–xxiv. See also C. Gill,

‘Stoic Writers of the Imperial Era’, in C. Rowe and M. Schofield (eds.), The
Cambridge History of Greek and Roman Political Thought (Cambridge, 2000);
Long, Epictetus, 230–44.
 24 See LS 31 B; see also A. A. Long, Stoic Studies (Cambridge, 1996), 91–4,

104–6.
 25 See e.g. 4.1.159–66 (Socrates), 3.22 (Diogenes the Cynic). On the

significance of Socrates and Diogenes for Epictetus, see also n. 37.

26 See 3.2.2, 5; see also 1.4.11, 3.12.14–15, 4.10.13.
27 See references in n. 5.
28 See LS 54 C(6), H, L–M, 60 A, 63 C.
29 Cf. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 3.6, 4.4, 5.21.
 30 See e.g. 1.1.7–13, 1.14.11–14, 1.17.15–27, 2.8.12–13, 4.12.11–12; see also

(unusually), on accepting things as fated, 2.6.9. Contrast Marcus Aurelius,

Meditations 2.3, 2.17, 4.45, 5.8.
 31 See R. Dobbin, ‘Prohairesis in Epictetus’, Ancient Philosophy, 11 (1991),

111–35.
 32 M. Frede, A Free Will: Origins of the Notion in Ancient Thought (Berkeley,

2011), 44–8, 76–83, 113, 157–8.

33 See e.g. Long, Epictetus, 142–7.
 34 S. Bobzien, Determinism and Freedom in Stoic Philosophy (Oxford, 1998),

331–8, 341–5 (on ‘indeterminism’ in later debate, see her ch. 8). For
Chrysippus’ theory of agency (conceived as compatible with determinism), see
Cicero, On Fate 39–43 (= LS 62 C).
 35 K. Algra, ‘Epictetus and Stoic Theology’, in Scaltsas and Mason (eds.),

Philosophy of Epictetus.
 36 This typology is especially associated with the Academic (Platonic)

philosopher Philo of Larisa (158–84); see Stobaeus 2.39–41 (ed. Wachsmuth and
Hense). But it matches Hellenistic–Roman philosophical practice more
generally. On typologies of practical ethics in this period, see C. Gill, ‘The
School in the Roman Imperial Period’, in Inwood (ed.), Cambridge Companion
to the Stoics, esp. 40–4.
 37 See 2.26.4, 3.21.19, 3.23.33–7; see also 1.11, 1.28.6–8, for Socratic-style

elenchus in Epictetus’ Discourses. See further Long, Epictetus, 52–66, 74–9. On

the significance attached to Cynicism, esp. Diogenes, in Epictetus, see K.
Ierodiakonou, ‘The Philosopher as God’s Messenger’, and M. Schofield,
‘Epictetus on Cynicism’, both in Scaltsas and Mason (eds.), Philosophy of
Epictetus.
 38 On the three-topic or three-stage programme for ethical development or

progress, see 3.2.1–5 and references in n. 26; see also Long, Epictetus, 112–18;
Gill, Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman Thought, 380–9; references in n.
12.
 39 See p. xiii and n. 14; 3.2.1, 3; see also Gill, Structured Self in Hellenistic

and Roman Thought, 382–4.

 40 See pp. xv–xvi and nn. 22–3; Gill, Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman

Thought, 384–6 and discussion of 1.2.

41 See pp. xvi–xvii and nn. 24–30.
42 See p. ix and n. 5.
43 See, further, Explanatory Note to 1.1.
44 See pp. xviii–xix and nn. 31–4.
 45 On this theory, see C. Gill, ‘Personhood and Personality: The Four-

Personae Theory in Cicero, De Officiis 1’, Oxford Studies in Ancient

Philosophy, 6 (1988), 169–99; J. Annas, ‘Epictetus on Moral Perspectives’, and
M. Frede, ‘A Notion of Person in Epictetus’, both in Scaltsas and Mason (eds.),
Philosophy of Epictetus; B. E. Johnson, ‘Socrates, Heracles and the Deflation of
Roles in Epictetus’, Ancient Philosophy, 32 (2012), 125–45.
46 On these figures, see, further, Explanatory Note to 1.2.
47 See Gill, ‘Personhood and Personality’, 187–91.
 48 See 3.3.5–8, 3.24.84–8; Handbook 3; see also Long, Epictetus, 233–44,

248–9; Gill, Structured Self in Hellenistic and Roman Thought, 385–6.

 49 See Frede, Free Will, 113, 157–8. On influence on Christianity more

generally, see M. Spanneut, ‘Epiktet’, in T. Klauser (ed.), Reallexikon für Antike

und Christentum, 24 vols. to date (Stuttgart, 1950– ), vol. v.
 50 See R. Dobbin, Epictetus: Discourses and Selected Writings, with introd.

and notes (London, 2008), pp. xv–xvi.

 51 See Long, Epictetus, 261–8. On editions of the text of Epictetus, see W. A.

Oldfather, Epictetus: The Discourses as Reported by Arrian, the Manual, and

Fragments, with trans. and notes, 2 vols. (London, 1926), pp. xxxi–xxxiii;
Dobbin, Epictetus: Discourses Book 1, pp. xxiii–xxiv.
 52 See Long, Epictetus, 268–70; see also J. Stockdale, Thoughts of a

Philosophical Fighter Pilot (Stanford, 1995).

 53 See e.g. J. Evans, Philosophy for Life: And Other Dangerous Situations

(London, 2012), 25–38.

 54 See D. Robertson, The Philosophy of Cognitive–Behavioural Therapy

(CBT): Stoic Philosophy as Rational and Cognitive Psychotherapy (London,

2010); T. Le Bon, Wise Therapy (London, 2001).