The Golden Sayings of Epictetus, with the Hymn of Cleanthes

Be what it may the goal appointed me, Bravely I’ll follow; nay, and if I would not, I’d prove a coward, yet must follow still! Again: Who to Necessity doth bow aright, Is learn’d in wisdom and the things of God. Once more:— Crito, if this be God’s will, so let it be. As for me, Anytus and Meletus can indeed put me to death, but injure me, never! CLXXXV We shall then be like Socrates, when we can indite hymns of praise to the Gods in prison. CLXXXVI It is hard to combine and unite these two qualities, the carefulness of one who is affected by circumstances, and the intrepidity of one who heeds them not. But it is not impossible: else were happiness also impossible. We should act as we do in seafaring. “What can I do?”—Choose the master, the crew, the day, the opportunity. Then comes a sudden storm. What matters it to me? my part has been fully done. The matter is in the hands of another—the Master of the ship. The ship is foundering. What then have I to do? I do the only thing that remains to me—to be drowned without fear, without a cry, without upbraiding God, but knowing that what has been born must likewise perish. For I am not Eternity, but a human being—a part of the whole, as an hour is part of the day. I must come like the hour, and like the hour must pass! CLXXXVII And now we are sending you to Rome to spy out the land; but none send a coward as such a spy, that, if he hear but a noise and see a shadow moving anywhere, loses his wits and comes flying to say, _The enemy are upon us!_ So if _you_ go now, and come and tell us: “Everything at Rome is terrible: Death is terrible, Exile is terrible, Slander is terrible, Want is terrible; fly, comrades! the enemy are upon us!” we shall reply, Get you gone, and prophesy to yourself! we have but erred in sending such a spy as you. Diogenes, who was sent as a spy long before you, brought us back another report than this. He says that Death is no evil; for it need not even bring shame with it. He says that Fame is but the empty noise of madmen. And what report did this spy bring us of Pain, what of Pleasure, what of Want? That to be clothed in sackcloth is better than any purple robe; that sleeping on the bare ground is the softest couch; and in proof of each assertion he points to his own courage, constancy, and freedom; to his own healthy and muscular frame. “There is no enemy near,” he cries, “all is perfect peace!” CLXXXVIII If a man has this peace—not the peace proclaimed by Cæsar (how indeed should _he_ have it to proclaim?), nay, but the peace proclaimed by God through reason, will not that suffice him when alone, when he beholds and reflects:—Now can no evil happen unto me; for me there is no robber, for me no earthquake; all things are full of peace, full of tranquillity; neither highway nor city nor gathering of men, neither neighbor nor comrade can do me hurt. Another supplies my food, whose care it is; another my raiment; another hath given me perceptions of sense and primary conceptions. And when He supplies my necessities no more, it is that He is sounding the retreat, that He hath opened the door, and is saying to thee, Come!—Wither? To nought that thou needest fear, but to the friendly kindred elements whence thou didst spring. Whatsoever of fire is in thee, unto fire shall return; whatsoever of earth, unto earth; of spirit, unto spirit; of water, unto water. There is no Hades, no fabled rivers of Sighs, of Lamentation, or of Fire: but all things are full of Beings spiritual and divine. With thoughts like these, beholding the Sun, Moon, and Stars, enjoying earth and sea, a man is neither helpless nor alone! CLXXXIX What wouldst thou be found doing when overtaken by Death? If I might choose, I would be found doing some deed of true humanity, of wide import, beneficent and noble. But if I may not be found engaged in aught so lofty, let me hope at least for this—what none may hinder, what is surely in my power—that I may be found raising up in myself that which had fallen; learning to deal more wisely with the things of sense; working out my own tranquillity, and thus rendering that which is its due to every relation of life. . . . If death surprise me thus employed, it is enough if I can stretch forth my hands to God and say, “The faculties which I received at Thy hands for apprehending this thine Administration, I have not neglected. As far as in me lay, I have done Thee no dishonour. Behold how I have used the senses, the primary conceptions which Thous gavest me. Have I ever laid anything to Thy charge? Have I ever murmured at aught that came to pass, or wished it otherwise? Have I in anything transgressed the relations of life? For that Thou didst beget me, I thank Thee for that Thou hast given: for the time during which I have used the things that were Thine, it suffices me. Take them back and place them wherever Thou wilt! They were all Thine, and Thou gavest them me.”—If a man depart thus minded, is it not enough? What life is fairer and more noble, what end happier than his? (APPENDIX A) Fragments Attributed to Epictetus I A life entangled with Fortune is like a torrent. It is turbulent and muddy; hard to pass and masterful of mood: noisy and of brief continuance. II The soul that companies with Virtue is like an ever-flowing source. It is a pure, clear, and wholesome draught; sweet, rich, and generous of its store; that injures not, neither destroys. III It is a shame that one who sweetens his drink with the gifts of the bee, should embitter God’s gift Reason with vice. IV Crows pick out the eyes of the dead, when the dead have no longer need of them; but flatterers mar the soul of the living, and _her_ eyes they blind. V Keep neither a blunt knife nor an ill-disciplined looseness of tongue. VI Nature hath given men one tongue but two ears, that we may hear from others twice as much as we speak. VII Do not give sentence in another tribunal till you have been yourself judged in the tribunal of Justice. VIII If is shameful for a Judge to be judged by others. IX Give me by all means the shorter and nobler life, instead of one that is longer but of less account! X Freedom is the name of virtue: Slavery, of vice. . . . None is a slave whose acts are free. XI Of pleasures, those which occur most rarely give the most delight. XII Exceed due measure, and the most delightful things become the least delightful. XIII The anger of an ape—the threat of a flatterer:—these deserve equal regard. XIV Chastise thy passions that they avenge not themselves upon thee. XV No man is free who is not master of himself. XVI A ship should not ride on a single anchor, nor life on a single hope. XVII Fortify thyself with contentment: that is an impregnable stronghold. XVIII No man who is a lover of money, of pleasure, of glory, is likewise a lover of Men; but only he that is a lover of whatsoever things are fair and good. XIX Think of God more often than thou breathest. XX Choose the life that is noblest, for custom can make it sweet to thee. XXI Let thy speech of God be renewed day by day, aye, rather than thy meat and drink. XXII Even as the Sun doth not wait for prayers and incantations to rise, but shines forth and is welcomed by all: so thou also wait not for clapping of hands and shouts and praise to do thy duty; nay, do good of thine own accord, and thou wilt be loved like the Sun. XXIII Let no man think that he is loved by any who loveth none. XXIV If thou rememberest that God standeth by to behold and visit all that thou doest; whether in the body or in the soul, thou surely wilt not err in any prayer or deed; and thou shalt have God to dwell with thee. Note.—Schweighæuser’s great edition collects 181 fragments attributed to Epictetus, of which but a few are certainly genuine. Some (as xxi., xxiv., above) bear the stamp of Pythagorean origin; others, though changed in form, may well be based upon Epictetean sayings. Most have been preserved in the Anthology of John of Stobi (Stobæus), a Byzantine collector, of whom scarcely anything is known but that he probably wrote towards the end of the fifth century, and made his vast body of extracts from more than five hundred authors for his son’s use. The best examination of the authenticity of the Fragments is _Quaestiones Epicteteæ_, by R. Asmus, 1888. The above selection includes some of doubtful origin but intrinsic interest.—Crossley. (APPENDIX B) The Hymn of Cleanthes Chiefest glory of deathless Gods, Almighty for ever, Sovereign of Nature that rulest by law, what Name shall we give Thee?— Blessed be Thou! for on Thee should call all things that are mortal. For that we are Thine offspring; nay, all that in myriad motion Lives for its day on the earth bears one impress—Thy likeness—upon it. Wherefore my song is of Thee, and I hymn thy power for ever. Lo, the vast orb of the Worlds, round the Earth evermore as it rolleth, Feels Thee its Ruler and Guide, and owns Thy lordship rejoicing. Aye, for Thy conquering hands have a servant of living fire— Sharp is the bolt!—where it falls, Nature shrinks at the shock and doth shudder. Thus Thou directest the Word universal that pulses through all things, Mingling its life with Lights that are great and Lights that are lesser, E’en as beseemeth its birth, High King through ages unending. Nought is done that is done without Thee in the earth or the waters Or in the heights of heaven, save the deed of the fool and the sinner. Thou canst make rough things smooth; at Thy voice, lo, jarring disorder Moveth to music, and Love is born where hatred abounded. Thus hast Thou fitted alike things good and things evil together, That over all might reign one Reason, supreme and eternal; Though thereunto the hearts of the wicked be hardened and heedless— Woe unto them!—for while ever their hands are grasping at good things, Blind are their eyes, yea, stopped are their ears to God’s Law universal, Calling through wise disobedience to live the life that is noble. This they mark not, but heedless of right, turn each to his own way, Here, a heart fired with ambition, in strife and straining unhallowed; There, thrusting honour aside, fast set upon getting and gaining; Others again given over to lusts and dissolute softness, Working never God’s Law, but that which wareth upon it. Nay, but, O Giver of all things good, whose home is the dark cloud, Thou that wields Heaven’s bolt, save men from their ignorance grievous; Scatter its night from their souls, and grant them to come to that Wisdom Wherewithal, sistered with Justice, Thou rulest and governest all things; That we, honoured by Thee, may requite Thee with worship and honour, Evermore praising thy works, as is meet for men that shall perish; Seeing that none, be he mortal or God, hath privilege nobler Than without stint, without stay, to extol Thy Law universal.