A Selection from the Discourses of Epictetus with the Encheiridion
be right.—How more to you than those which seem right to the Syrians?
why more than what seem right to the Egyptians? why more than what
seems right to me or to any other man? Not at all more. What then
“seems” to every man is not sufficient for determining what “is”; for
neither in the case of weights nor measures are we satisfied with the
bare appearance, but in each case we have discovered a certain rule. In
this matter then is there no rule superior to what “seems”? And how is
it possible that the most necessary things among men should have no
sign (mark), and be incapable of being discovered? There is then some
rule. And why then do we not seek the rule and discover it, and
afterwards use it without varying from it, not even stretching out the
finger without it? For this, I think, is that which when it is
discovered cures of their madness those who use mere “seeming” as a
measure, and misuse it; so that for the future proceeding from certain
things (principles) known and made clear we may use in the case of
particular things the preconceptions which are distinctly fixed.
What is the matter presented to us about which we are inquiring?
Pleasure (for example). Subject it to the rule, throw it into the
balance. Ought the good to be such a thing that it is fit that we have
confidence in it? Yes. And in which we ought to confide? It ought to
be. Is it fit to trust to anything which is insecure? No. Is then
pleasure anything secure? No. Take it then and throw it out of the
scale, and drive it far away from the place of good things. But if you
are not sharp-sighted, and one balance is not enough for you, bring
another. Is it fit to be elated over what is good? Yes. Is it proper
then to be elated over present pleasure? See that you do not say that
it is proper; but if you do, I shall then not think you worthy even of
the balance. Thus things are tested and weighed when the rules are
ready. And to philosophize is this, to examine and confirm the rules;
and then to use them when they are known is the act of a wise and good
man.
OF DISPUTATION OR DISCUSSION.—What things a man must learn in order to
be able to apply the art of disputation, has been accurately shown by
our philosophers (the Stoics); but with respect to the proper use of
the things, we are entirely without practice. Only give to any of us,
whom you please, an illiterate man to discuss with, and he cannot
discover how to deal with the man. But when he has moved the man a
little, if he answers beside the purpose, he does not know how to treat
him, but he then either abuses or ridicules him, and says, He is an
illiterate man; it is not possible to do anything with him. Now a
guide, when he has found a man out of the road, leads him into the
right way; he does not ridicule or abuse him and then leave him. Do you
also show the illiterate man the truth, and you will see that he
follows. But so long as you do not show him the truth, do not ridicule
him, but rather feel your own incapacity.
Now this was the first and chief peculiarity of Socrates, never to be
irritated in argument, never to utter anything abusive, anything
insulting, but to bear with abusive persons and to put an end to the
quarrel. If you would know what great power he had in this way, read
the Symposium of Xenophon, and you will see how many quarrels he put an
end to. Hence with good reason in the poets also this power is most
highly praised:
Quickly with skill he settles great disputes.
Hesiod, Theogony, v. 87.
ON ANXIETY (SOLICITUDE).—When I see a man anxious, I say, What does
this man want? If he did not want something which is not in his power,
how could he be anxious? For this reason a lute player when he is
singing by himself has no anxiety, but when he enters the theatre, he
is anxious, even if he has a good voice and plays well on the lute; for
he not only wishes to sing well, but also to obtain applause: but this
is not in his power. Accordingly, where he has skill, there he has
confidence. Bring any single person who knows nothing of music, and the
musician does not care for him. But in the matter where a man knows
nothing and has not been practised, there he is anxious. What matter is
this? He knows not what a crowd is or what the praise of a crowd is.
However, he has learned to strike the lowest chord and the highest; but
what the praise of the many is, and what power it has in life, he
neither knows nor has he thought about it. Hence he must of necessity
tremble and grow pale. Is any man then afraid about things which are
not evils? No. Is he afraid about things which are evils, but still so
far within his power that they may not happen? Certainly he is not. If
then the things which are independent of the will are neither good nor
bad, and all things which do depend on the will are within our power,
and no man can either take them from us or give them to us, if we do
not choose, where is room left for anxiety? But we are anxious about
our poor body, our little property, about the will of Cæsar; but not
anxious about things internal. Are we anxious about not forming a false
opinion? No, for this is in my power. About not exerting our movements
contrary to nature? No, not even about this. When then you see a man
pale, as the physician says, judging from the complexion, this man’s
spleen is disordered, that man’s liver; so also say, this man’s desire
and aversion are disordered, he is not in the right way, he is in a
fever. For nothing else changes the color, or causes trembling or
chattering of the teeth, or causes a man to
Sink in his knees and shift from foot to foot.
Iliad, xiii., 281.
For this reason, when Zeno was going to meet Antigonus, he was not
anxious, for Antigonus had no power over any of the things which Zeno
admired; and Zeno did not care for those things over which Antigonus
had power. But Antigonus was anxious when he was going to meet Zeno,
for he wished to please Zeno; but this was a thing external (out of his
power). But Zeno did not want to please Antigonus; for no man who is
skilled in any art wishes to please one who has no such skill.
Should I try to please you? Why? I suppose, you know the measure by
which one man is estimated by another. Have you taken pains to learn
what is a good man and what is a bad man, and how a man becomes one or
the other? Why then are you not good yourself? How, he replies, am I
not good? Because no good man laments or groans or weeps, no good man
is pale and trembles, or says, How will he receive me, how will he
listen to me? Slave, just as it pleases him. Why do you care about what
belongs to others? Is it now his fault if he receives badly what
proceeds from you? Certainly. And is it possible that a fault should be
one man’s, and the evil in another? No. Why then are you anxious about
that which belongs to others? Your question is reasonable; but I am
anxious how I shall speak to him. Cannot you then speak to him as you
choose? But I fear that I may be disconcerted? If you are going to
write the name of Dion, are you afraid that you would be disconcerted?
By no means. Why? is it not because you have practised writing the
name? Certainly. Well, if you were going to read the name, would you
not feel the same? and why? Because every art has a certain strength
and confidence in the things which belong to it. Have you then not
practised speaking? and what else did you learn in the school?
Syllogisms and sophistical propositions? For what purpose? was it not
for the purpose of discoursing skilfully? and is not discoursing
skilfully the same as discoursing seasonably and cautiously and with
intelligence, and also without making mistakes and without hindrance,
and besides all this with confidence? Yes. When then you are mounted on
a horse and go into a plain, are you anxious at being matched against a
man who is on foot, and anxious in a matter in which you are practised,
and he is not? Yes, but that person (to whom I am going to speak) has
power to kill me. Speak the truth, then, unhappy man, and do not brag,
nor claim to be a philosopher, nor refuse to acknowledge your masters,
but so long as you present this handle in your body, follow every man
who is stronger than yourself. Socrates used to practice speaking, he
who talked as he did to the tyrants, to the dicasts (judges), he who
talked in his prison. Diogenes had practised speaking, he who spoke as
he did to Alexander, to the pirates, to the person who bought him.
These men were confident in the things which they practised. But do you
walk off to your own affairs and never leave them: go and sit in a
corner, and weave syllogisms, and propose them to another. There is not
in you the man who can rule a state.
TO NASO.—When a certain Roman entered with his son and listened to one
reading, Epictetus said, This is the method of instruction; and he
stopped. When the Roman asked him to go on, Epictetus said, Every art
when it is taught causes labor to him who is unacquainted with it and
is unskilled in it, and indeed the things which proceed from the arts
immediately show their use in the purpose for which they were made; and
most of them contain something attractive and pleasing. For indeed to
be present and to observe how a shoemaker learns is not a pleasant
thing; but the shoe is useful and also not disagreeable to look at. And
the discipline of a smith when he is learning is very disagreeable to
one who chances to be present and is a stranger to the art: but the
work shows the use of the art. But you will see this much more in
music; for if you are present while a person is learning, the
discipline will appear most disagreeable; and yet the results of music
are pleasing and delightful to those who know nothing of music. And
here we conceive the work of a philosopher to be something of this
kind: he must adapt his wish ([Greek: boulaesin]) to what is going on,
so that neither any of the things which are taking place shall take
place contrary to our wish, nor any of the things which do not take
place shall not take place when we wish that they should. From this the
result is to those who have so arranged the work of philosophy, not to
fail in the desire, nor to fall in with that which they would avoid;
without uneasiness, without fear, without perturbation to pass through
life themselves, together with their associates maintaining the
relations both natural and acquired, as the relation of son, of father,
of brother, of citizen, of man, of wife, of neighbor, of
fellow-traveller, of ruler, of ruled. The work of a philosopher we
conceive to be something like this. It remains next to inquire how this
must be accomplished.
We see then that the carpenter ([Greek: techton]) when he has learned
certain things becomes a carpenter; the pilot by learning certain
things becomes a pilot. May it not then in philosophy also not be
sufficient to wish to be wise and good, and that there is also a
necessity to learn certain things? We inquire then what these things
are. The philosophers say that we ought first to learn that there is a
God and that he provides for all things; also that it is not possible
to conceal from him our acts, or even our intentions and thoughts. The
next thing is to learn what is the nature of the gods; for such as they
are discovered to be, he, who would please and obey them, must try with
all his power to be like them. If the divine is faithful, man also must
be faithful; if it is free, man also must be free; if beneficent, man
also must be beneficent; if magnanimous, man also must be magnanimous;
as being then an imitator of God he must do and say everything
consistently with this fact.
TO OR AGAINST THOSE WHO OBSTINATELY PERSIST IN WHAT THEY HAVE
DETERMINED.—When some persons have heard these words, that a man ought