A Selection from the Discourses of Epictetus with the Encheiridion
act), nor assent, nor dissent, nor suspend his judgment: to say all in
a few words, he will go about dumb and blind, thinking that he is
somebody, but being nobody. Is this so now for the first time? Is it
not the fact that ever since the human race existed, all errors and
misfortunes have arisen through this ignorance?
This is all that I have to say to you; and I say even this not
willingly. Why? Because you have not roused me. For what must I look to
in order to be roused, as men who are expert in riding are roused by
generous horses? Must I look to your body? You treat it disgracefully.
To your dress? That is luxurious. To your behavior, to your look? That
is the same as nothing. When you would listen to a philosopher, do not
say to him, You tell me nothing; but only show yourself worthy of
hearing or fit for hearing; and you will see how you will move the
speaker.
THAT LOGIC IS NECESSARY.—When one of those who were present said,
Persuade me that logic is necessary, he replied, Do you wish me to
prove this to you? The answer was, Yes. Then I must use a demonstrative
form of speech. This was granted. How then will you know if I am
cheating you by my argument? The man was silent. Do you see, said
Epictetus, that you yourself are admitting that logic is necessary, if
without it you cannot know so much as this, whether logic is necessary
or not necessary?
OF FINERY IN DRESS.—A certain young man, a rhetorician, came to see
Epictetus, with his hair dressed more carefully than was usual and his
attire in an ornamental style; whereupon Epictetus said, Tell me if you
do not think that some dogs are beautiful and some horses, and so of
all other animals. I do think so, the youth replied. Are not then some
men also beautiful and others ugly? Certainly. Do we then for the same
reason call each of them in the same kind beautiful, or each beautiful
for something peculiar? And you will judge of this matter thus. Since
we see a dog naturally formed for one thing, and a horse for another,
and for another still, as an example, a nightingale, we may generally
and not improperly declare each of them to be beautiful then when it is
most excellent according to its nature; but since the nature of each is
different, each of them seems to me to be beautiful in a different way.
Is it not so? He admitted that it was. That then which makes a dog
beautiful, makes a horse ugly; and that which makes a horse beautiful,
makes a dog ugly, if it is true that their natures are different. It
seems to be so. For I think that what makes a Pancratiast beautiful,
makes a wrestler to be not good, and a runner to be most ridiculous;
and he who is beautiful for the Pentathlon, is very ugly for wrestling.
It is so, said he. What then makes a man beautiful? Is it that which in
its kind makes both a dog and a horse beautiful? It is, he said. What
then makes a dog beautiful? The possession of the excellence of a dog.
And what makes a horse beautiful? The possession of the excellence of a
horse. What then makes a man beautiful? Is it not the possession of the
excellence of a man? And do you then, if you wish to be beautiful,
young man, labor at this, the acquisition of human excellence? But what
is this? Observe whom you yourself praise, when you praise many persons
without partiality: do you praise the just or the unjust? The just.
Whether do you praise the moderate or the immoderate? The moderate. And
the temperate or the intemperate? The temperate. If then you make
yourself such a person, you will know that you will make yourself
beautiful; but so long as you neglect these things, you must be ugly
([Greek: aischron]), even though you contrive all you can to appear
beautiful.
IN WHAT A MAN OUGHT TO BE EXERCISED WHO HAS MADE PROFICIENCY; AND THAT
WE NEGLECT THE CHIEF THINGS.—There are three things (topics, [Greek:
topoi]) in which a man ought to exercise himself who would be wise and
good. The first concerns the desires and the aversions, that a man may
not fail to get what he desires, and that he may not fall into that
which he does not desire. The second concerns the movements towards an
object and the movements from an object, and generally in doing what a
man ought to do, that he may act according to order, to reason, and not
carelessly. The third thing concerns freedom from deception and
rashness in judgment, and generally it concerns the assents ([Greek:
sugchatatheseis]). Of these topics the chief and the most urgent is
that which relates to the affects ([Greek: ta pathae] perturbations);
for an affect is produced in no other way than by a failing to obtain
that which a man desires or falling into that which a man would wish to
avoid. This is that which brings in perturbations, disorders, bad
fortune, misfortunes, sorrows, lamentations, and envy; that which makes
men envious and jealous; and by these causes we are unable even to
listen to the precepts of reason. The second topic concerns the duties
of a man; for I ought not to be free from affects ([Greek: apathae])
like a statue, but I ought to maintain the relations ([Greek:
scheseis]) natural and acquired, as a pious man, as a son, as a father,
as a citizen.
The third topic is that which immediately concerns those who are making
proficiency, that which concerns the security of the other two, so that
not even in sleep any appearance unexamined may surprise us, nor in
intoxication, nor in melancholy. This, it may be said, is above our
power. But the present philosophers neglecting the first topic and the
second (the affects and duties), employ themselves on the third, using
sophistical arguments ([Greek: metapiptontas]), making conclusions from
questioning, employing hypotheses, lying. For a man must, it is said,
when employed on these matters, take care that he is not deceived. Who
must? The wise and good man. This then is all that is wanting to you.
Have you successfully worked out the rest? Are you free from deception
in the matter of money? If you see a beautiful girl do you resist the
appearance? If your neighbor obtains an estate by will, are you not
vexed? Now is there nothing else wanting to you except unchangeable
firmness of mind ([Greek: ametaptosia])? Wretch, you hear these very
things with fear and anxiety that some person may despise you, and with
inquiries about what any person may say about you. And if a man come
and tell you that in a certain conversation in which the question was,
Who is the best philosopher, a man who was present said that a certain
person was the chief philosopher, your little soul which was only a
finger’s length stretches out to two cubits. But if another who is
present says, You are mistaken; it is not worth while to listen to a
certain person, for what does he know? he has only the first
principles, and no more? then you are confounded, you grow pale, you
cry out immediately, I will show him who I am, that I am a great
philosopher. It is seen by these very things: why do you wish to show
it by others? Do you not know that Diogenes pointed out one of the
sophists in this way by stretching out his middle finger? And then when
the man was wild with rage, This, he said, is the certain person: I
have pointed him out to you. For a man is not shown by the finger, as a
stone or a piece of wood; but when any person shows the man’s
principles, then he shows him as a man.
Let us look at your principles also. For is it not plain that you value
not at all your own will ([Greek: proairesis]), but you look externally
to things which are independent of your will? For instance, what will a
certain person say? and what will people think of you? Will you be
considered a man of learning; have you read Chrysippus or Antipater?
for if you have read Archedamus also, you have every thing (that you
can desire). Why you are still uneasy lest you should not show us who
you are? Would you let me tell you what manner of man you have shown us
that you are? You have exhibited yourself to us as a mean fellow,
querulous, passionate, cowardly, finding fault with everything, blaming
everybody, never quiet, vain: this is what you have exhibited to us. Go
away now and read Archedamus; then if a mouse should leap down and make
a noise, you are a dead man. For such a death awaits you as it did—what
was the man’s name—Crinis; and he too was proud, because he understood
Archedamus. Wretch, will you not dismiss these things that do not
concern you at all? These things are suitable to those who are able to
learn them without perturbation, to those who can say: “I am not
subject to anger, to grief, to envy: I am not hindered, I am not
restrained. What remains for me? I have leisure, I am tranquil: let us
see how we must deal with sophistical arguments; let us see how when a
man has accepted an hypothesis he shall not be led away to any thing
absurd.” To them such things belong. To those who are happy it is
appropriate to light a fire, to dine; if they choose, both to sing and
to dance. But when the vessel is sinking, you come to me and hoist the
sails.
WHAT IS THE MATTER ON WHICH A GOOD MAN SHOULD BE EMPLOYED, AND IN WHAT
WE OUGHT CHIEFLY TO PRACTISE OURSELVES.—The material for the wise and
good man is his own ruling faculty: and the body is the material for
the physician and the aliptes (the man who oils persons); the land is
the matter for the husbandman. The business of the wise and good man is
to use appearances conformably to nature: and as it is the nature of
every soul to assent to the truth, to dissent from the false, and to
remain in suspense as to that which is uncertain; so it is its nature
to be moved towards the desire for the good, and to aversion from the
evil; and with respect to that which is neither good nor bad it feels
indifferent. For as the money-changer (banker) is not allowed to reject
Cæsar’s coin, nor the seller of herbs, but if you show the coin,
whether he chooses or not, he must give up what is sold for the coin;
so it is also in the matter of the soul. When the good appears, it
immediately attracts to itself; the evil repels from itself. But the
soul will never reject the manifest appearance of the good, any more
than persons will reject Cæsar’s coin. On this principle depends every
movement both of man and God.
Against (or with respect to) this kind of thing chiefly a man should
exercise himself. As soon as you go out in the morning, examine every
man whom you see, every man whom you hear; answer as to a question,
What have you seen? A handsome man or woman? Apply the rule. Is this
independent of the will, or dependent? Independent. Take it away. What
have you seen? A man lamenting over the death of a child. Apply the
rule. Death is a thing independent of the will. Take it away. Has the
proconsul met you? Apply the rule. What kind of a thing is a
proconsul’s office? Independent of the will or dependent on it?
Independent. Take this away also; it does not stand examination; cast
it away; it is nothing to you.
If we practised this and exercised ourselves in it daily from morning
to night, something indeed would be done. But now we are forthwith
caught half asleep by every appearance, and it is only, if ever, that
in the school we are roused a little. Then when we go out, if we see a
man lamenting, we say, He is undone. If we see a consul, we say, He is
happy. If we see an exiled man, we say, He is miserable. If we see a
poor man, we say, He is wretched; he has nothing to eat.
We ought then to eradicate these bad opinions, and to this end we
should direct all our efforts. For what is weeping and lamenting?
Opinion. What is bad fortune? Opinion. What is civil sedition, what is
divided opinion, what is blame, what is accusation, what is impiety,
what is trifling? All these things are opinions, and nothing more, and