A Selection from the Discourses of Epictetus with the Encheiridion
great matter is the death of many oxen, and many sheep, and many nests
of swallows or storks being burnt or destroyed? Are these things then
like those? Very like. Bodies of men are destroyed, and the bodies of
oxen and sheep; the dwellings of men are burnt, and the nests of
storks. What is there in this great or dreadful? Or show me what is the
difference between a man’s house and a stork’s nest, as far as each is
a dwelling; except that man builds his little houses of beams and tiles
and bricks, and the stork builds them of sticks and mud. Are a stork
and a man then like things? What say you? In body they are very much
alike.
Does a man then differ in no respect from a stork? Don’t suppose that I
say so; but there is no difference in these matters (which I have
mentioned). In what then is the difference? Seek and you will find that
there is a difference in another matter. See whether it is not in a man
the understanding of what he does, see if it is not in social
community, in fidelity, in modesty, in steadfastness, in intelligence.
Where then is the great good and evil in men? It is where the
difference is. If the difference is preserved and remains fenced round,
and neither modesty is destroyed, nor fidelity, nor intelligence, then
the man also is preserved; but if any of these things is destroyed and
stormed like a city, then the man too perishes: and in this consist the
great things. Alexander, you say, sustained great damage then when the
Hellenes invaded and when they ravaged Troy, and when his brothers
perished. By no means; for no man is damaged by an action which is not
his own; but what happened at that time was only the destruction of
stork’s nests. Now the ruin of Alexander was when he lost the character
of modesty, fidelity, regard to hospitality, and to decency. When was
Achilles ruined? Was it when Patroclus died? Not so. But it happened
when he began to be angry, when he wept for a girl, when he forgot that
he was at Troy not to get mistresses, but to fight. These things are
the ruin of men, this is being besieged, this is the destruction of
cities, when right opinions are destroyed, when they are corrupted.
ON CONSTANCY (OR FIRMNESS).—The being (nature) of the good is a certain
will; the being of the bad is a certain kind of will. What, then, are
externals? Materials for the will, about which the will being
conversant shall obtain its own good or evil. How shall it obtain the
good? If it does not admire (over-value) the materials; for the
opinions about the materials, if the opinions are right, make the will
good: but perverse and distorted opinions make the will bad. God has
fixed this law, and says, “If you would have anything good, receive it
from yourself.” You say, No, but I will have it from another. Do not
so: but receive it from yourself. Therefore when the tyrant threatens
and calls me, I say, Whom do you threaten? If he says, I will put you
in chains, I say, You threaten my hands and my feet. If he says, I will
cut off your head, I reply, You threaten my head. If he says, I will
throw you into prison, I say, You threaten the whole of this poor body.
If he threatens me with banishment, I say the same. Does he then not
threaten you at all? If I feel that all these things do not concern me,
he does not threaten me at all; but if I fear any of them, it is I whom
he threatens. Whom then do I fear? the master of what? The master of
things which are in my own power? There is no such master. Do I fear
the master of things which are not in my power? And what are these
things to me?
Do you philosophers then teach us to despise kings? I hope not. Who
among us teaches to claim against them the power over things which they
possess? Take my poor body, take my property, take my reputation, take
those who are about me. If I advise any persons to claim these things,
they may truly accuse me. Yes, but I intend to command your opinions
also. And who has given you this power? How can you conquer the opinion
of another man? By applying terror to it, he replies, I will conquer
it. Do you not know that opinion conquers itself, and is not conquered
by another? But nothing else can conquer will except the will itself.
For this reason too the law of God is most powerful and most just,
which is this: Let the stronger always be superior to the weaker. Ten
are stronger than one. For what? For putting in chains, for killing,
for dragging whither they choose, for taking away what a man has. The
ten therefore conquer the one in this in which they are stronger. In
what then are the ten weaker? If the one possesses right opinions and
the others do not. Well then, can the ten conquer in this matter? How
is it possible? If we were placed in the scales, must not the heavier
draw down the scale in which it is.
How strange then that Socrates should have been so treated by the
Athenians. Slave, why do you say Socrates? Speak of the thing as it is:
how strange that the poor body of Socrates should have been carried off
and dragged to prison by stronger men, and that anyone should have
given hemlock to the poor body of Socrates, and that it should breathe
out the life. Do these things seem strange, do they seem unjust, do you
on account of these things blame God? Had Socrates then no equivalent
for these things? Where then for him was the nature of good? Whom shall
we listen to, you or him? And what does Socrates say? “Anytus and
Melitus can kill me, but they cannot hurt me.” And further, he says,
“If it so pleases God, so let it be.”
But show me that he who has the inferior principles overpowers him who
is superior in principles. You will never show this, nor come near
showing it; for this is the law of nature and of God that the superior
shall always overpower the inferior. In what? In that in which it is
superior. One body is stronger than another: many are stronger than
one: the thief is stronger than he who is not a thief. This is the
reason why I also lost my lamp, because in wakefulness the thief was
superior to me. But the man bought the lamp at this price: for a lamp
he became a thief, a faithless fellow, and like a wild beast. This
seemed to him a good bargain. Be it so. But a man has seized me by the
cloak, and is drawing me to the public place: then others bawl out,
Philosopher, what has been the use of your opinions? see, you are
dragged to prison, you are going to be beheaded. And what system of
philosophy ([Greek: eisagogaen)] could I have made so that, if a
stronger man should have laid hold of my cloak, I should not be dragged
off; that if ten men should have laid hold of me and cast me into
prison, I should not be cast in? Have I learned nothing else then? I
have learned to see that everything which happens, if it be independent
of my will, is nothing to me. I may ask, if you have not gained by
this. Why then do you seek advantage in anything else than in that in
which you have learned that advantage is?
Will you not leave the small arguments ([Greek: logaria]) about these
matters to others, to lazy fellows, that they may sit in a corner and
receive their sorry pay, or grumble that no one gives them anything;
and will you not come forward and make use of what you have learned?
For it is not these small arguments that are wanted now; the writings
of the Stoics are full of them. What then is the thing which is wanted?
A man who shall apply them, one who by his acts shall bear testimony to
his words. Assume, I intreat you, this character, that we may no longer
use in the schools the examples of the ancients, but may have some
example of our own.
To whom then does the contemplation of these matters (philosophical
inquiries) belong? To him who has leisure, for man is an animal that
loves contemplation. But it is shameful to contemplate these things as
runaway slaves do; we should sit, as in a theatre, free from
distraction, and listen at one time to the tragic actor, at another
time to the lute-player; and not do as slaves do. As soon as the slave
has taken his station he praises the actor and at the same time looks
round; then if any one calls out his master’s name, the slave is
immediately frightened and disturbed. It is shameful for philosophers
thus to contemplate the works of nature. For what is a master? Man is
not the master of man; but death is, and life and pleasure and pain;
for if he comes without these things, bring Cæsar to me and you will
see how firm I am. But when he shall come with these things, thundering
and lightning, and when I am afraid of them, what do I do then except
to recognize my master like the runaway slave? But so long as I have
any respite from these terrors, as a runaway slave stands in the
theatre, so do I. I bathe, I drink, I sing; but all this I do with
terror and uneasiness. But if I shall release myself from my masters,
that is from those things by means of which masters are formidable,
what further trouble have I, what master have I still?
What then, ought we to publish these things to all men? No, but we
ought to accommodate ourselves to the ignorant ([Greek: tois idiotais])
and to say: “This man recommends to me that which he thinks good for
himself. I excuse him.” For Socrates also excused the jailer who had
the charge of him in prison and was weeping when Socrates was going to
drink the poison, and said, “How generously he laments over us.” Does
he then say to the jailer that for this reason we have sent away the
women? No, but he says it to his friends who were able to hear
(understand) it; and he treats the jailer as a child.
THAT CONFIDENCE (COURAGE) IS NOT INCONSISTENT WITH CAUTION.—The opinion
of the philosophers perhaps seem to some to be a paradox; but still let
us examine as well as we can, if it is true that it is possible to do
everything both with caution and with confidence. For caution seems to
be in a manner contrary to confidence, and contraries are in no way
consistent. That which seems to many to be a paradox in the matter
under consideration in my opinion is of this kind; if we asserted that
we ought to employ caution and confidence in the same things, men might
justly accuse us of bringing together things which cannot be united.
But now where is the difficulty in what is said? for if these things
are true, which have been often said and often proved, that the nature
of good is in the use of appearances, and the nature of evil likewise,
and that things independent of our will do not admit either the nature
of evil or of good, what paradox do the philosophers assert if they say
that where things are not dependent on the will, there you should
employ confidence, but where they are dependent on the will, there you
should employ caution? For if the bad consists in the bad exercise of
the will, caution ought only to be used where things are dependent on
the will. But if things independent of the will and not in our power
are nothing to us, with respect to these we must employ confidence; and
thus we shall both be cautious and confident, and indeed confident
because of our caution. For by employing caution towards things which
are really bad, it will result that we shall have confidence with
respect to things which are not so.
We are then in the condition of deer; when they flee from the
huntsmen’s feathers in fright, whither do they turn and in what do they
seek refuge as safe? They turn to the nets, and thus they perish by
confounding things which are objects of fear with things that they
ought not to fear. Thus we also act: in what cases do we fear? In
things which are independent of the will. In what cases on the contrary
do we behave with confidence, as if there were no danger? In things
dependent on the will. To be deceived then, or to act rashly, or