A Selection from the Discourses of Epictetus with the Encheiridion
have none, nor fine beasts as you have none. In answer to tins it is
perhaps sufficient to say: I have no need of such things; but if you
possess many things you have need of others: whether you choose or not,
you are poorer than I am. What then have I need of? Of that which you
have not? of firmness, of a mind which is conformable to nature, of
being free from perturbation.
IN WHAT MANNER WE OUGHT TO BEAR SICKNESS.—When the need of each opinion
comes, we ought to have it in readiness: on the occasion of breakfast,
such opinions as relate to breakfast; in the bath, those that concern
the bath; in bed, those that concern bed.
Let sleep not come upon thy languid eyes
Before each daily action thou hast scann’d;
What’s done amiss, what done, what left undone;
From first to last examine all, and then
Blame what is wrong, in what is right rejoice.
And we ought to retain these verses in such way that we may use them,
not that we may utter them aloud, as when we exclaim, “Paean Apollo.”
Again in fever we should have ready such opinions as concern a fever;
and we ought not, as soon as the fever begins, to lose and forget all.
A man who has a fever may say: If I philosophize any longer, may I be
hanged: wherever I go, I must take care of the poor body, that a fever
may not come. But what is philosophizing? Is it not a preparation
against events which may happen? Do you not understand that you are
saying something of this kind? “If I shall still prepare myself to bear
with patience what happens, may I be hanged.” But this is just as if a
man after receiving blows should give up the Pancratium. In the
Pancratium it is in our power to desist and not to receive blows.
But in the other matter if we give up philosophy, what shall we gain?
What then should a man say on the occasion of each painful thing? It
was for this that I exercised myself, for this I disciplined myself.
God says to you: Give me a proof that you have duly practised
athletics, that you have eaten what you ought, that you have been
exercised, that you have obeyed the aliptes (the oiler and rubber).
Then do you show yourself weak when the time for action comes? Now is
the time for the fever. Let it be borne well. Now is the time for
thirst, bear it well. Now is the time for hunger, bear it well. Is it
not in your power? Who shall hinder you? The physician will hinder you
from drinking; but he cannot prevent you from bearing thirst well: and
he will hinder you from eating; but he cannot prevent you from bearing
hunger well.
But I cannot attend to my philosophical studies. And for what purpose
do you follow them? Slave, is it not that you may be happy, that you
may be constant, is it not that you may be in a state conformable to
nature and live so? What hinders you when you have a fever from having
your ruling faculty conformable to nature? Here is the proof of the
thing, here is the test of the philosopher. For this also is a part of
life, like walking, like sailing, like journeying by land, so also is
fever. Do you read when you are walking? No. Nor do you when you have a
fever. But if you walk about well, you have all that belongs to a man
who walks. If you bear a fever well, you have all that belongs to a man
in a fever. What is it to bear a fever well? Not to blame God or man;
not to be afflicted at that which happens, to expect death well and
nobly, to do what must be done: when the physician comes in, not to be
frightened at what he says; nor if he says you are doing well, to be
overjoyed. For what good has he told you? and when you were in health,
what good was that to you? And even if he says you are in a bad way, do
not despond. For what is it to be ill? is it that you are near the
severance of the soul and the body? what harm is there in this? If you
are not near now, will you not afterwards be near? Is the world going
to be turned upside down when you are dead? Why then do you flatter the
physician? Why do you say if you please, master, I shall be well? Why
do you give him an opportunity of raising his eyebrows (being proud; or
showing his importance)? Do you not value a physician, as you do a
shoemaker when he is measuring your foot, or a carpenter when he is
building your house, and so treat the physician as to the body which is
not yours, but by nature dead? He who has a fever has an opportunity of
doing this: if he does these things, he has what belongs to him. For it
is not the business of a philosopher to look after these externals,
neither his wine nor his oil nor his poor body, but his own ruling
power. But as to externals how must he act? so far as not to be
careless about them. Where then is there reason for fear? where is
there then still reason for anger, and of fear about what belongs to
others, about things which are of no value? For we ought to have these
two principles in readiness, that except the will nothing is good nor
bad; and that we ought not to lead events, but to follow them. My
brother ought not to have behaved thus to me. No, but he will see to
that; and, however he may behave, I will conduct myself towards him as
I ought. For this is my own business; that belongs to another: no man
can prevent this, the other thing can be hindered.
ABOUT EXERCISE.—We ought not to make our exercises consist in means
contrary to nature and adapted to cause admiration, for if we do so, we
who call ourselves philosophers, shall not differ at all from jugglers.
For it is difficult even to walk on a rope; and not only difficult, but
it is also dangerous. Ought we for this reason to practice walking on a
rope, or setting up a palm-tree, or embracing statues? By no means.
Every thing which is difficult and dangerous is not suitable for
practice; but that is suitable which conduces to the working out of
that which is proposed to us. And what is that which is proposed to us
as a thing to be worked out? To live with desire and aversion
(avoidance of certain things) free from restraint. And what is this?
Neither to be disappointed in that which you desire, nor to fall into
anything which you would avoid. Towards this object then exercise
(practice) ought to tend. For since it is not possible to have your
desire not disappointed and your aversion free from falling into that
which you would avoid, without great and constant practice, you must
know that if you allow your desire and aversion to turn to things which
are not within the power of the will, you will neither have your desire
capable of attaining your object, nor your aversion free from the power
of avoiding that which you would avoid. And since strong habit leads
(prevails), and we are accustomed to employ desire and aversion only to
things which are not within the power of our will, we ought to oppose
to this habit a contrary habit, and where there is great slipperiness
in the appearances, there to oppose the habit of exercise. Then at
last, if occasion presents itself, for the purpose of trying yourself
at a proper time you will descend into the arena to know if appearances
overpower you as they did formerly. But at first fly far from that
which is stronger than yourself; the contest is unequal between a
charming young girl and a beginner in philosophy. The earthen pitcher,
as the saying is, and the rock do not agree.
WHAT SOLITUDE IS, AND WHAT KIND OF PERSON A SOLITARY MAN IS.—Solitude
is a certain condition of a helpless man. For because a man is alone,
he is not for that reason also solitary; just as though a man is among
numbers, he is not therefore not solitary. When then we have lost
either a brother, or a son, or a friend on whom we were accustomed to
repose, we say that we are left solitary, though we are often in Rome,
though such a crowd meet us, though so many live in the same place, and
sometimes we have a great number of slaves. For the man who is
solitary, as it is conceived, is considered to be a helpless person and
exposed to those who wish to harm him. For this reason when we travel,
then especially do we say that we are lonely when we fall among
robbers, for it is not the sight of a human creature which removes us
from solitude, but the sight of one who is faithful and modest and
helpful to us. For if being alone is enough to make solitude, you may
say that even Zeus is solitary in the conflagration and bewails himself
saying, Unhappy that I am who have neither Hera, nor Athena, nor
Apollo, nor brother, nor son, nor descendant, nor kinsman. This is what
some say that he does when he is alone at the conflagration. For they
do not understand how a man passes his life when he is alone, because
they set out from a certain natural principle, from the natural desire
of community and mutual love and from the pleasure of conversation
among men. But none the less a man ought to be prepared in a manner for
this also (being alone), to be able to be sufficient for himself and to
be his own companion. For as Zeus dwells with himself, and is tranquil
by himself, and thinks of his own administration and of its nature, and
is employed in thoughts suitable to himself; so ought we also to be
able to talk with ourselves, not to feel the want of others also, not
to be unprovided with the means of passing our time; to observe the
divine administration, and the relation of ourselves to everything
else; to consider how we formerly were affected towards things that
happened and how at present; what are still the things which give us
pain; how these also can be cured and how removed; if any things
require improvement, to improve them according to reason.
Well then, if some man should come upon me when I am alone and murder
me? Fool, not murder You, but your poor body.
What kind of solitude then remains? what want? why do we make ourselves
worse than children; and what do children do when they are left alone?
They take up shells and ashes, and they build something, then pull it
down, and build something else, and so they never want the means of
passing the time. Shall I then, if you sail away, sit down and weep,
because I have been left alone and solitary? Shall I then have no
shells, no ashes? But children do what they do through want of thought
(or deficiency in knowledge), and we through knowledge are unhappy.
Every great power (faculty) is dangerous to beginners. You must then
bear such things as you are able, but conformably to nature: but not
... Practise sometimes a way of living like a person out of health that
you may at some time live like a man in health.
CERTAIN MISCELLANEOUS MATTERS.—As bad tragic actors cannot sing alone,
but in company with many, so some persons cannot walk about alone. Man,
if you are anything, both walk alone and talk to yourself, and do not
hide yourself in the chorus. Examine a little at last, look around,
stir yourself up, that you may know who you are.
You must root out of men these two things, arrogance (pride) and
distrust. Arrogance then is the opinion that you want nothing (are
deficient in nothing); but distrust is the opinion that you cannot be
happy when so many circumstances surround you. Arrogance is removed by
confutation; and Socrates was the first who practised this. And (to
know) that the thing is not impossible inquire and seek. This search
will do you no harm; and in a manner this is philosophizing, to seek
how it is possible to employ desire and aversion ([Greek: echchlisis])
without impediment.
I am superior to you, for my father is a man of consular rank. Another
says, I have been a tribune, but you have not. If we were horses, would
you say, My father was swifter? I have much barley and fodder, or
elegant neck ornaments. If then you were saying this, I said, Be it so:
let us run then. Well, is there nothing in a man such as running in a