A Selection from the Discourses of Epictetus with the Encheiridion
these same persons would have no doubt that love of purity is certainly
contained in it, and that if man is distinguished from other animals by
anything, he is distinguished by this. When then we see any other
animal cleaning itself, we are accustomed to speak of the act with
surprise, and to add that the animal is acting like a man; and on the
other hand, if a man blames an animal for being dirty, straightway, as
if we were making an excuse for it, we say that of course the animal is
not a human creature. So we suppose that there is something superior in
man, and that we first receive it from the gods. For since the gods by
their nature are pure and free from corruption, so far as men approach
them by reason, so far do they cling to purity and to a love (habit) of
purity. But since it is impossible that man’s nature ([Greek: ousia])
can be altogether pure, being mixed (composed) of such materials,
reason is applied, as far as it is possible, and reason endeavors to
make human nature love purity.
The first then and highest purity is that which is in the soul; and we
say the same of impurity. Now you could not discover the impurity of
the soul as you could discover that of the body; but as to the soul,
what else could you find in it than that which makes it filthy in
respect to the acts which are her own? Now the acts of the soul are
movement towards an object or movement from it, desire, aversion,
preparation, design (purpose), assent. What then is it which in these
acts makes the soul filthy and impure? Nothing else than her own bad
judgments ([Greek: chrimata]). Consequently the impurity of the soul is
the soul’s bad opinions; and the purification of the soul is the
planting in it of proper opinions; and the soul is pure which has
proper opinions, for the soul alone in her own acts is free from
perturbation and pollution.
For we ought not even by the appearance of the body to deter the
multitude from philosophy; but as in other things, a philosopher should
show himself cheerful and tranquil, so also he should in the things
that relate to the body. See, ye men, that I have nothing, that I want
nothing; see how I am without a house, and without a city, and an
exile, if it happens to be so, and without a hearth I live more free
from trouble and more happily than all of noble birth and than the
rich. But look at my poor body also and observe that it is not injured
by my hard way of living. But if a man says this to me, who has the
appearance (dress) and face of a condemned man, what god shall persuade
me to approach philosophy, if it makes men such persons? Far from it; I
would not choose to do so, even if I were going to become a wise man. I
indeed would rather that a young man, who is making his first movements
towards philosophy, should come to me with his hair carefully trimmed
than with it dirty and rough, for there is seen in him a certain notion
(appearance) of beauty and a desire of (attempt at) that which is
becoming; and where he supposes it to be, there also he strives that it
shall be. It is only necessary to show him (what it is), and to say:
Young man, you seek beauty, and you do well; you must know then that it
(is produced) grows in that part of you where you have the rational
faculty; seek it there where you have the movements towards and
movements from things, where you have the desires towards and the
aversion from things; for this is what you have in yourself of a
superior kind; but the poor body is naturally only earth; why do you
labor about it to no purpose? if you shall learn nothing else, you will
learn from time that the body is nothing. But if a man comes to me
daubed with filth, dirty, with a moustache down to his knees, what can
I say to him, by what kind of resemblance can I lead him on? For about
what has he busied himself which resembles beauty, that I may be able
to change him and say, Beauty is not in this, but in that? Would you
have me to tell him, that beauty consists not in being daubed with
muck, but that it lies in the rational part? Has he any desire of
beauty? has he any form of it in his mind? Go and talk to a hog, and
tell him not to roll in the mud.
ON ATTENTION.—When you have remitted your attention for a short time,
do not imagine this, that you will recover it when you choose; but let
this thought be present to you, that in consequence of the fault
committed today your affairs must be in a worse condition for all that
follows. For first, and what causes most trouble, a habit of not
attending is formed in you; then a habit of deferring your attention.
And continually from time to time you drive away by deferring it the
happiness of life, proper behavior, the being and living conformably to
nature. If then the procrastination of attention is profitable, the
complete omission of attention is more profitable; but if it is not
profitable, why do you not maintain your attention constant? Today I
choose to play. Well then, ought you not to play with attention? I
choose to sing. What then hinders you from doing so with attention? Is
there any part of life excepted, to which attention does not extend?
For will you do it (anything in life) worse by using attention, and
better by not attending at all? And what else of the things in life is
done better by those who do not use attention? Does he who works in
wood work better by not attending to it? Does the captain of a ship
manage it better by not attending? and are any of the smaller acts done
better by inattention? Do you not see that when you have let your mind
loose, it is no longer in your power to recall it, either to propriety,
or to modesty, or to moderation; but you do everything that comes into
your mind in obedience to your inclinations.
First then we ought to have these (rules) in readiness, and to do
nothing without them, and we ought to keep the soul directed to this
mark, to pursue nothing external, and nothing which belongs to others
(or is in the power of others), but to do as he has appointed who has
the power; we ought to pursue altogether the things which are in the
power of the will, and all other things as it is permitted. Next to
this we ought to remember who we are, and what is our name, and to
endeavor to direct our duties towards the character (nature) of our
several relations (in life) in this manner: what is the season for
singing, what is the season for play, and in whose presence; what will
be the consequence of the act; whether our associates will despise us,
whether we shall despise them; when to jeer ([Greek: schopsai]), and
whom to ridicule; and on what occasion to comply and with whom; and
finally, in complying how to maintain our own character. But wherever
you have deviated from any of these rules, there is damage immediately,
not from anything external, but from the action itself.
What then? is it possible to be free from faults (if you do all this)?
It is not possible; but this is possible, to direct your efforts
incessantly to being faultless. For we must be content if by never
remitting this attention we shall escape at least a few errors. But now
when you have said, Tomorrow I will begin to attend, you must be told
that you are saying this, Today I will be shameless, disregardful of
time and place, mean; it will be in the power of others to give me
pain; today I will be passionate and envious. See how many evil things
you are permitting yourself to do. If it is good to use attention
tomorrow, how much better is it to do so today? if tomorrow it is in
your interest to attend, much more is it today, that you may be able to
do so tomorrow also, and may not defer it again to the third day.
AGAINST OR TO THOSE WHO READILY TELL THEIR OWN AFFAIRS.—When a man has
seemed to us to have talked with simplicity (candor) about his own
affairs, how is it that at last we are ourselves also induced to
discover to him our own secrets and we think this to be candid
behavior? In the first place, because it seems unfair for a man to have
listened to the affairs of his neighbor, and not to communicate to him
also in turn our own affairs; next, because we think that we shall not
present to them the appearance of candid men when we are silent about
our own affairs. Indeed, men are often accustomed to say, I have told
you all my affairs, will you tell me nothing of your own? where is this
done? Besides, we have also this opinion that we can safely trust him
who has already told us his own affairs; for the notion rises in our
mind that this man could never divulge our affairs because he would be
cautious that we also should not divulge his. In this way also the
incautious are caught by the soldiers at Rome. A soldier sits by you in
a common dress and begins to speak ill of Cæsar; then you, as if you
had received a pledge of his fidelity by his having begun the abuse,
utter yourself also what you think, and then you are carried off in
chains.
Something of this kind happens to us also generally. Now as this man
has confidently intrusted his affairs to me, shall I also do so to any
man whom I meet? (No), for when I have heard, I keep silence, if I am
of such a disposition; but he goes forth and tells all men what he has
heard. Then, if I hear what has been done, if I be a man like him, I
resolve to be revenged, I divulge what he has told me; I both disturb
others, and am disturbed myself. But if I remember that one man does
not injure another, and that every man’s acts injure and profit him, I
secure this, that I do not anything like him, but still I suffer what I
do suffer through my own silly talk.
True, but it is unfair when you have heard the secrets of your neighbor
for you in your turn to communicate nothing to him. Did I ask you for
your secrets, my man? did you communicate your affairs on certain
terms, that you should in return hear mine also? If you are a babbler
and think that all who meet you are friends, do you wish me also to be
like you? But why, if you did well in intrusting your affairs to me,
and it is not well for me to intrust mine to you, do you wish me to be
so rash? It is just the same as if I had a cask which is water-tight,
and you one with a hole in it, and you should come and deposit with me
your wine that I might put it into my cask, and then should complain
that I also did not intrust my wine to you, for you have a cask with a
hole in it. How then is there any equality here? You intrusted your
affairs to a man who is faithful and modest, to a man who thinks that
his own actions alone are injurious and (or) useful, and that nothing
external is. Would you have me intrust mine to you, a man who has
dishonored his own faculty of will, and who wishes to gain some small
bit of money or some office or promotion in the court (emperor’s
palace), even if you should be going to murder your own children, like
Medea? Where (in what) is this equality (fairness)? But show yourself
to me to be faithful, modest, and steady; show me that you have
friendly opinions; show that your cask has no hole in it; and you will
see how I shall not wait for you to trust me with your own affairs, but
I myself shall come to you and ask you to hear mine. For who does not
choose to make use of a good vessel? Who does not value a benevolent
and faithful adviser? Who will not willingly receive a man who is ready
to bear a share, as we may say, of the difficulty of his circumstances,
and by this very act to ease the burden, by taking a part of it.
THE ENCHEIRIDION, OR MANUAL.
I.
Of things some are in our power, and others are not. In our power are
opinion ([Greek: hupolaepsis]), movement towards a thing ([Greek:
hormae]), desire, aversion ([Greek: echchlisis]), turning from a thing;
and in a word, whatever are our acts. Not in our power are the body,