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Zbe Camelot Series
Edited bt Ernest Rhys

EPICTETUS
THE TEACHING OF EPICTETUS :
BEING THE < ENCHEIRIDION
OF EPICTETUS,' WITH SELECTIONS
FROM THE 'DISSERTATIONS' AND
'FRAGMENTS.'

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK,

WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, BY

T. W. ROLLESTON.

LONDON
WALTER SCOTT, 24 WARWICK LANE
NEW YORK : THOMAS WHITTAKER
TORONTO : W. J. GAGE AND CO.
1888
 s®

HARVARD
COLLEGE
LIBRARY
 CONTENTS.

PAGE
Introduction ix
Cleahthes' Hymn to Zeus 1
BOOK I.
Chap. I. The Beginning of Philosophy 3
Chap. II. On the Natural Conceptions . 7
Chap. III. The Master-Faculty . 9
Chap. IV. The Nature of the Good 12
Chap. V. The Promise of Philosophy . 14
Chap. VI. The Way of Philosophy 15
Chap. VII. To the Learner 20
Chap. VIII. The Cynic 23
BOOK II.
Chap. I. On Genuine and Borrowed Beliefs 40
Chap. II. The Game of Life 45
Chap. III. Things are what they are , . 50
Chap. IV. Three Steps to Perfection . , 52
Chap. V. That a man may be both bold and fearful 54
Chap. VI. The Wise Man's Fear and the Fool's . 59
Chap. VII. Appearances False and True , 60
Chap. VIII. How we should think as God s offspring 03
Chap. IX. The Open Door 70
Chap. X. Know Thyself .... 73
Chap. XI. How we should bear ourselves towards evil 1 78
Chap. XII. The Voyage of Life . 80
Chap. XIII. The Mark of Effort . 81
Chap. XIV. Faculties , 85
Chap. XV. Returns ....
Chap. XVI. The Price of Tranquillity
Chap. XVII. A Choice .... 87
Chap. XVIII. That where the Heart is the Bond is 88
Chap. XIX That we lament not from within 89
Chap. XX That a man may act his part but not choose 90
Chap. XXI. Distinctions .... 92
Chap. XXII. That a man is sufficient to himself 93
Chap. XXIII. That every man fulfil his own task 94
Chap. XXIV. The World's Price for the World's Worth 95
Chap. XXV. Aims of Nature , 97
Chap. XXVI. The Mind's Security . 97
Chap. XXVH. That a Man should be One Man
 CONTENTS.
BOOK III.
PAGE
Chap. I. Obligations .... 101
Chap. II. Against Epicurus 102
Chap. III. Against the Epicureans and Academics 104
Chap. IV. On Slavery .... 109
Chap. V. To the Administrator of the Free Cities, who was an
Epicurean
Chap. VL On Statecraft ....
Chap. VIL On Friendship.
Chap. VIII. Time and Change
Chap. IX. On Solitude ....
Chap. X. Against the Contentious and Revengeful
BOOK IV.
Chap. 1. Of Religion
Chap. II. Of Providence .
Chap. III. Of Providence .
Chap. IV. God in Man .
Chap. V. Of Divination .
BOOK V.
Chap. I. The Behaviour of a Philosopher
Chap. II. On Habit
Chap. III. On Disputation
Chap. IV. That we should be Slow in Accepting Pleasure
Chap. V. That we should be Open in our Dealings
Chap. VI. That Half True may be all False
Chap. VII. That each Man Play his Own Part .
Chap. VIII. That we should be Careful of the Soul as of the Body
Chap. IX. The Measure of Gain .
Chap. X. The Worth of Women .
Chap. XI. A Dull Nature .
Chap. XII. Of Adornment of the Person .
Chap. XIII. Why we should Bear with Wrong
Chap, XIV. That Everything hath Two Handles
Chap. XV. On certain False Conclusions .
Chap. XVI. Perception and Judgment
Chap. XVII, That the Philosopher shall Exhibit to the Vulgar
Deeds, not Words
Chap. XVin. Ascesis
Chap. XIX. Tokens
Chap. XX. That the Logical Art is Necessary
Chap. XXI. Grammarian or Sage
Chap. XXII. Accomplishments
Chap. XXIII. Constancy
Chap. XXIV. How Long ? .
Chap. XXV. Parts of Philosophy
Chap. XXVI. Memorabilia .
Notes
Notes on the Principal Philosophic Terms used by Epictetus
Index of References
 "Dass der Mensch ins Unvermeidliche sich füge,
darauf dringen alle Religionen j jede sucht auf ihre
Weise mit dieser Aufgäbefertig zu werden"
—Goethe.

" Liber Epicteti nobilissimi Stoici."

—St. Augustine.
 INTRODUCTION,

BUT for the zeal and ability of one disciple we

should not now possess any trustworthy account
of the teaching of Epictetus. For, like not a few
other sages, he wrote nothing—his teaching was
purely oral, delivered, in the form of lectures or
discourses, to the students who came to him to receive
their education in philosophy. One of these students
was Flavius Arrianus, afterwards Senator and Consul
of Rome, named by Lucian " one among the first of
Roman men," and known to us chiefly as author of
the best history of Alexander the Great which was
produced in antiquity. That history is still extant,
but posterity owes Arrian still more abundant thanks
for the copious notes of the teaching of Epictetus
which he took down from his master's lips in
Nicopolis. This record he afterwards published in
eight books (whereof only four now remain), entitled
the Dissertations of Epictetus; and out of these he
drew the materials for compiling the little work, the

r
x INTRODUCTION.

Encheiridion, or Manual, of Epictetus, by which this

philosopher has hitherto been most generally known.1
It is clear that the Dissertations were not regarded
by Arrian as a satisfactory representation of the
teaching of his master; that he published them,
indeed, with much reluctance, and only when it
appeared that unless he did so, certain imperfect
versions of his records would be established as the sole
sources of authoritative information about Epictetua
These circumstances are explained in a dedicatory
letter to his friend Lucius Gellius, prefixed to the
edition of the Dissertations which Arrian finally
resolved to issue. I here translate this document
in full:—

" Arrian to Lucius Gellius, hail

" I did not write [in literary form and composition,
<rvyypa.<f>civ] the words of Epictetus in the manner in which
a man might write such things. Neither have I put them
forth among men, since, as I say, I did not even write
them. But whatever I heard him speak, those things I
endeavoured to set down in his very words, so to preserve
to myself for future times a memorial of his thought and
unstudied speech. Naturally, therefore, they are such
things as one man might say to another on the occasion of

1 The Encheiridion of Epictetus, Translated into English by T. W.

Rolleston. Kegan Paul, Trench, k Co., 1881.
 INTRODUCTION. xi

the moment, not such as he would put together with the

idea of finding readers long afterwards. Such they are,
and I know not how without my will or knowledge
they fell among men. But to me it is no great matter
if I shall appear unequal to composing such a work,
and to Epictetus none at all if anyone shall despise his
discourse ; for when he spoke it, it was evident that he had
but one aim—to stir the minds of his hearers towards the
best things. And if, indeed, the words here written should
do the same, then they will do, I think, that which the
words of sages ought to do. But if not, yet let those who
read them know this, that when he himself spoke them, it
was impossible for the hearer to avoid feeling whatever
Epictetus desired he should feel. But if his words, when
they are merely words, have not this effect, perhaps it is
that I am in fault, perhaps it could not have been other
wise. Farewell 1 "

The style of the Dissertations, as they have reached

us, answers very well to the above account of their
origin and purpose. They contain much that the
world should be as little willing to neglect as any
thing that Greek philosophy has left us; but they
contain also many repetitions, redundancies, inco-
herencies; and are absolutely devoid of any sort of
order or system in their arrangement. Each chapter
has generally something of a central theme, but
beyond this all is chaos. The same theme will be

r>
Zbe Gamelot Series
Edited by Ernest Rhys

EPICTETUS
THE TEACHING OF EPICTETUS:
BEING THE ' ENCHEIRIDION
OF EPICTETUS,' WITH SELECTIONS
FROM THE 'DISSERTATIONS* AND
'FRAGMENTS.'

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK,

WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, BY

T. W. ROLLESTON.

LONDON
WALTER SCOTT, 24 WARWICK LANE
NEW YORK : THOMAS WHITTAKER
TORONTO : W. J. GAGE AND CO.
1888
G-eS -26

HARVARD^
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
SEP Zoi9i)3
 CONTENTS.

PAGE
Introduction . iz
Cleanthes' Hymn to Zeus 1
BOOK I.
Chap. I. The Beginning of Philosophy 3
Chap. II. On the Natural Conceptions . 7
Chap. III. The Master-Faculty . 9
Chap. IV. The Nature of the Good 12
Chap. V. The Promise of Philosophy . 14
Chap. VI. The Way of Philosophy 15
Chap. VII. To the Learner 20
Chap. VIII. The Cynic 23
BOOK II.
Chap. I. On Genuine and Borrowed Beliefs 40
Chap. II. The Game of Life 45
Chap. III. Things are what they are , 50
Chap. IV. Three Steps to Perfection 52
Chap. V. That a man may be both bold and fearful 54
Chap. VI. The Wise Man's Fear and the Fool's , 59
Chap. VII. Appearances False and True , 60
Chap. VIII. How we should think as God s offspring 03
Chap. IX. The Open Door 70
Chap. X. Know Thyself .... 73
Chap. XI. How we should bear ourselves towards evil men 78
Chap. XII. The Voyage of Life . 80
Chap. XIII. The Mark of Effort . 81
Chap. XIV. Faculties 85
Chap. XV. Returns 86
Chap. XVI. The Price of Tranquillity 86
Chap. XVII. A Choice 87
Chap. XVIII. That where the Heart is the Bond is
Chap. XIX That we lament not from within
Chap. XX That a man may act his part but not choose it 90
Chap. XXI. Distinctions .... 92
Chap. XXII. That a man is sufficient to himself 93
Chap. XXIII. That every man fulfil his own task . 94
Chap. XXIV. The World's Price for the World's Worth 95
Chap. XXV. Aims of Nature , 97
Chap. XXVI. The Mind's Security . 97
Chap. XXVH. That a Man should be One Man 98
 CONTENTS.
BOOK III.
PAGE
Chap. I. Obligations .... 101
Chap. II. Against Epicurus 102
Chap. III. Against the Epicureans and Academics 104
Chap. IV. On Slavery .... 109
Chap. V. To the Administrator of the Free Cities, who was an
Epicurean 110
Chap. VI. On Statecraft .... 116
Chap. VII. On Friendship. 117
Chap. VIII. Time and Change 123
Chap. IX. On Solitude .... 133
Chap. X. Against the Contentious and Revengeful 136
BOOK IV.
Chap. I. Of Religion 141
Chap. II. Of Providence . 142
Chap. III. Of Providence . 146
Chap. IV. God in Man . 148
Chap. V. Of Divination . 154
BOOK V.
Chap. I. The Behaviour of a Philosopher 156
Chap. II. On Habit 159
Chap. III. On Disputation 164
Chap. IV. That we should be Slow in Accepting Pleasure 166
Chap. V. That we should be Open in our Dealings 166
Chap. VI. That Half True may be all False 167
Chap. VII. That each Man Play his Own Part . 167
Chap. VIII. That we should be Careful of the Soul as of the Body 168
Chap. IX. The Measure of Gain . 168
Chap. X. The Worth of Women . 169
Chap. XI. A Dull Nature . 169
Chap. XII. Of Adornment of the Person . 170
Chap. XIII. Why we should Bear with Wrong 174
Chap, XIV. That Everything hath Two Handles 175
Chap. XV. On certain False Conclusions . 175
Chap. XVI. Perception and Judgment 176
Chap. XVII. That the Philosopher shall Exhibit to the Vulga:
Deeds, not Words 179
Chap. XVTTT. Ascesis 180
Chap. XIX. Tokens 181
Chap. XX. That the Logical Art is Necessary 182
Chap. XXI. Grammarian or Sage 183
Chap. XXII. Accomplishments 184
Chap. XXIII. Constancy 190
Chap. XXIV. How Long ? . 190
Chap. XXV. Parts of Philosophy 191
Chap. XXVI. Memorabilia . 192
Notes 193
Notes on the Principal Philosophic Terms used by Epictetus 215
Index of References .... 219
 " Dass der Mensch ins Unvermeidliche sich fiige,
darauf dringen alle Religionenj jede sucht auf ihre
Weise mit dieser Aufgabefertig zu werdeti."
—Goethe.

" Liber Epicteti nobilissimi Stoici."

—St. Augustine.
 INTRODUCTION,

BUT for the zeal and ability of one disciple we

should not now possess any trustworthy account
of the teaching of Epictetus. For, like not a few
other sages, he wrote nothing—his teaching was
purely oral, delivered, in the form of lectures or
discourses, to the students who came to him to receive
their education in philosophy. One of these students
was Flavius Arrianus, afterwards Senator and Consul
of Rome, named by Lucian " one among the first of
Roman men," and known to us chiefly as author of
the best history of Alexander the Great which was
produced in antiquity. That history is still extant,
but posterity owes Arrian still more abundant thanks
for the copious notes of the teaching of Epictetus
which he took down from his master's lips in
Nicopolis. This record he afterwards published in
eight books (whereof only four now remain), entitled
the Dissertations of Epictetus; and out of these he
drew the materials for compiling the little work, the
x INTRODUCTION.

JEncheiridion, or Manual, of Epictetus, by which this

philosopher has hitherto been most generally known.1
It is clear that the Dissertations were not regarded
by Arrian as a satisfactory representation of the
teaching of his master; that he published them,
indeed, with much reluctance, and only when it
appeared that unless he did so, certain imperfect
versions of his records would be established as the sole
sources of authoritative information about Epictetua
These circumstances are explained in a dedicatory
letter to his friend Lucius Gellius, prefixed to the
edition of the Dissertations which Arrian finally
resolved to issue. I here translate this document
in full:—

" Arrian to Lucius Gellius, hail.

" I did not write [in literary form and composition,
ovyypd<f>tiv] the words of Epictetus in the manner in which
a man might write such things. Neither have I put thern
forth among men, since, as I say, I did not even write
them. But whatever I heard him speak, those things I
endeavoured to set down in his very words, so to preserve
to myself for future times a memorial of his thought and
unstudied speech. Naturally, therefore, they are such
things as one man might say to another on the occasion of

1 The Encheiridwn of Epictetus, Translated into English by T. W.

Rolleston. Kegan Paul, Trench, & Co., 1881.
 INTRODUCTION. xi

the moment, not such as he would put together with the

idea of finding readers long afterwards. Such they are,
and I know not how without my will or knowledge
they fell among men. But to me it is no great matter
if I shall appear unequal to composing such a work,
and to Epictetus none at all if anyone shall despise his
discourse ; for when he spoke it, it was evident that he had
but one aim—to stir the minds of his hearers towards the
best things. And if, indeed, the words here written should
do the same, then they will do, I think, that which the
words of sages ought to do. But if not, yet let those who
read them know this, that when he himself spoke them, it
was impossible for the hearer to avoid feeling whatever
Epictetus desired he should feel. But if his words, when
they are merely words, have not this effect, perhaps it is
that I am in fault, perhaps it could not have been other
wise. Farewell 1 "

The style of the Dissertations, as they have reached

us, answers very well to the above account of their
origin and purpose. They contain much that the
world should be as little willing to neglect as any
thing that Greek philosophy has left us; but they
contain also many repetitions, redundancies, inco-
herencies; and are absolutely devoid of any sort of
order or system in their arrangement. Each chapter
has generally something of a central theme, but
beyond this all is chaos. The same theme will be
xii INTRODUCTION.

dwelt on again and again in almost the same phrases ;

utterances of majestic wisdom are embedded in pages
of tedious argument, and any grouping of the
chapters according to a progressive sequence of ideas
will be looked for in vain.
Under these conditions it was evident that the
teaching of Epictetus could never win half the
influence which its essential qualities fitted it to
exercise. And accordingly, as another and better
vehicle for this influence, Arrian compiled and con
densed from the Dissertations the small handbook of
the Stoic philosophy known as the Encheiridion of
Epictetus. This little work has made Epictetus
known to very many whom the Dissertations would
never have reached. It had the distinction—un
paralleled in the case of any other Pagan writing,
if we except the doubtful Sententice of Xystus—of
being adopted as a religious work in the early
Christian Church. Two paraphrases of it—still
extant—one of which was specially designed for the
use of monastic bodies, were produced about the sixth
century A.D., in which very few changes were made
in the text, beyond the alteration of Pagan names and
allusions to Scriptural ones.
About the same time it was made the subject of an
elaborate and lengthy commentary by a pagan writer,
Simplicius, wherein chapter after chapter is dissected,
 INTRODUCTION. xiii

discussed, and explained. It was elegantly rendered

into Latin by the well-known scholar of the
Renaissance, Angelo Politian, who dedicated his
translation to Lorenzo de' Medici Down to the
present day, as numerous translations testify, it has
remained the most usual means of access to the
thought of Epictetus.
But inestimable as the Encheiridion is, he who
knows it alone has gained nothing like all that
Epictetus has to give. It is a compendium ; and
although much more stirring and forcible than is
usual with such works, it cannot give us the wealth of
interesting allusion, sustained reflection, the bursts of
eloquence, the abrupt and biting style, the vivid
revelations of personal character, which marked the
teaching of Epictetus in the form in which he delivered
it. It seems, therefore, that to make him as accessible
as he can be to those for whom such things have any
value or interest, it were necessary to produce from
the Encheiridion and the Dissertations a third work,
which should have the advantages of each. This is
what I have endeavoured to do in the present work.
In it the whole of the Encheiridion is given, and the
divisions of subject-matter into which the Encheiri
dion falls have been observed by the division of my
translation into five Books, corresponding with the
natural divisions of the Encheiridion—Book L,
xiv INTRODUCTION.

treating of the first principles of the Stoic philosophy ;

Book II., dealing with the general application of these
principles to life ; Book III., with man's relations to
his fellow-man ; Book IV., with his relations to God ;
Book V., containing, besides a couple of concluding
chapters, chiefly practical counsels of behaviour on
various common occasions, and obiter dicta on the use
of the faculties. Such is the scheme of arrangement
suggested by the Encheiridion ; and I have filled it
in by setting among the chapters of the Encheiridion
chapters or passages from the Dissertations, selected
for their relevancy to the matter in hand. In fact, I
have reversed the process by which the Encheiridion
came into being. It was condensed out of the
Dissertations : I have expanded it again by drawing
into it a large quantity of material from the
original work, and subjecting the new matter thus
gained to the system and order of sequence which I
found to prevail in the Encheiridion. The passages
or chapters taken from the Dissertations are those
which seemed to me most characteristic of the
philosophy or the personality of Epictetus, and I
have made it my aim to omit nothing which is
essential to a full and clear understanding of the
message he had to deliver to his generation. Of
course there is plenty of room for differences of
opinion as to the manner in which this conception
 INTRODUCTION. xv

has been here carried out; but I hope that the

present attempt may do something to win a larger
audience for his teaching than former editions
could, in the nature of the case, obtain. If
this hope should prove to be well founded, I shall
expect, some day, to give the present English version
a counterpart in a Greek text arranged on the same
lines.
I may add here that the reader will find an Index
at the end of this volume, in which every paragraph
is referred to its original source in the Dissertations,
Encheiridion, or Fragments—the references applying
to Schweighauser's standard edition of Epictetus.1
As regards the style of my translation, I hope the
tinge of archaism I have given it will be felt to suit the
matter. I could think of no idiom so varied, so flex
ible even down to its use of various grammatical forms,

1 Epicteti Dissortationum ab Arriano Digestarum Libri IV. et ex

Deperditis Sermonibus Fragmenta. Post Io. Uptoni aliorumque
curaa, denuo ad Codicum Mastorum fldem recensuit, Latins Versione,
Adnotationibns, Indicibus illustravit Johannes Schweighauser. Lipsise.
MDCCXCIX.
Epicteti Manuale et Oebetis Tabula Greece et Latine. Schw.
MDCCXCVHI.
There are two excellent English translations of the whole extant
works of Epictetus—one by Mrs. Carter, published in the last century,
the other by the late George Long, M.A. (Bohn Series), to both of
which, but especially the latter, I desire to record my great obligations.
xvi INTRODUCTION.

so well suited alike to colloquy, or argument, or satire,

or impassioned eloquence as Elizabethan English.
So much to make the plan of the present work
understood ; and the reader may perhaps wish that I
would now leave him to the study of it. But there
is much in Epictetus the significance of which will
not appear to anyone who is unacquainted with the
general system of Stoic philosophy which formed the
basis of Epictetus's ethical teaching. And I hope
that the reader will prefer to have such information
as is necessary given him in the form of a general intro
duction rather than in that of a multitude of notes.
The founder of tho Stoic philosophy was Zeno,
a native of Cyprus, who taught in Athens, about
300 B.O., in that frescoed arcade, or Stoa, which gave
its name to his school. His birth-place is worth
noting, for Zeno lived at the beginning of that epoch,
himself one of the first products of it, in which the
influence of the East became strongly apparent in
Greek thought ; the period called Hellenistic in con
tradistinction to the purely Hellenic period which
ended in the conquests of the Macedonians. In many
ways the conditions of life in the Hellenistic period
formed the most favourable milieu possible for the
development of Greek thought upon the only lines
which, after Aristotle, it could fruitfully pursue ; and
this not in spite of, but even because of, the great
 INTRODUCTION. xvii

degradation of political and social life from which all

Hellendom then suffered. What the democratic
polities were like, on which was laid the problem of
confronting Philip of Macedon, we may conjecture
from the history of the best known and assuredly not
the worst of them, Athens. And the best type of
Athenian whose rise .to power was favoured by the
conditions of this time and place was Demosthenes :
Demosthenes, the grand historical warning to all
peoples against committing their destinies to pro
fessional orators ; the statesman whose doubtless real
veneration for his country and her past served only
to make him a more mischievous counsellor in her
present difficulties; whose splendid power as a
wielder of words was scarcely more signal than
his incapacity and cowardice when he was called
upon to match those words with deeds. Athens,
entangling the Thebans in an alliance against Mace
don, and then leaving them to face Alexander alone ;
deifying Demetrius the Besieger for driving out a
Macedonian garrison, and allotting him the Parthenon
itself to be his lodging and the scene of his unspeak
able profligacies; murdering Phocion, the one man
who dared to bring sincerity and virtue to her service
—Athens was a type of the Greek States of this
epoch: too unprincipled for democratic government,
too contentious for despotism, too vain to submit to
b
xviii INTRODUCTION.

foreign rule, too lacking in valour, purpose, union,

to resist it with effect.
Whatever the causes of the change may have been,
the conditions of public life in this Hellenistic period
were certainly very different from those which pre
vailed, albeit with decadence, before that vast
breaking up of boundaries and destruction of
political systems involved in the Macedonian con
quests. The successful and inspiring conflict with
Persia waged by the Hellenic States had for a time
made all Greek hearts to beat with one aspiration,
and had brought to the front a race of leaders who
were capable of subduing the Greek democracies to
their own steadfast and statesmanlike purposes.
Public life was then not only a possible but even the
most natural career for a man of talent and probity.
The small size of the Greek States gave almost every
such man an opportunity of action, and so keen and
universal was the interest in politics that it
threatened to lead Greek philosophy into a region
in which philosophy is very apt to lose its vitalising
connection with human consciousness and experience,
and to stiffen into barren speculation. In a word,
man, as an individual, began to be too much lost
sight of in the consideration of man as a citizen ; his
uses, his duties, the whole worth and significance of
his life, came to be estimated too exclusively by his
 INTRODUCTION. m

relations to the visible society about him. It was

when the great Stoic Chrysippus found himself
obliged to stand aloof from all participation in
politics—" For if I counsel honourably I shall offend
the citizens, and if basely, the Gods"—that such men as
he were led to ask themselves: Is there then any sphere
of human endeavour out of the reach of the tyranny
of circumstance ? If I cannot be a citizen, what am I
worth then simply as a man ? If I can be nothing to
my fellows, what can I be to God ? To a state of
things, then, which, speaking broadly, made public
life impossible to honest men, we owe the noblest
ethical system of antiquity ; to the enforced con
centration of thought upon the individual we owe a
certain note of universality till then absent from
Hellenic thought.
But Stoicism was not the only product of the
speculation of this period. Side by side with it there
started into being two other systems of philosophy,
the necessity for combating which was doubtless of
immense service to its development. These were
Epicureanism and Pyrrhonism ; and as the reader
will find Epictetus much concerned with each of
them, it may be desirable that I should give some
brief account of their cardinal doctrines.
Epicurus was an Athenian. After some residence in
Lesbos and Lampsacus, he began to teach in his native
xviii INTRODUCTION.

foreign rule, too lacking in valour, purpose, union,

to resist it with effect.
Whatever the causes of the change may have been,
the conditions of public life in this Hellenistic period
were certainly very different from those which pre
vailed, albeit with decadence, before that vast
breaking up of boundaries and destruction of
political systems involved in the Macedonian con
quests. The successful and inspiring conflict with
Persia waged by the Hellenic States had for a time
made all Greek hearts to beat with one aspiration,
and had brought to the front a race of leaders who
were capable of subduing the Greek democracies to
their own steadfast and statesmanlike purposes.
Public life was then not only a possible but even the
most natural career for a man of talent and probity.
The small size of the Greek States gave almost every
such man an opportunity of action, and so keen and
universal was the interest in politics that it
threatened to lead Greek philosophy into a region
in which philosophy is very apt to lose its vitalising
connection with human consciousness and experience,
and to stiffen into barren speculation. In a word,
man, as an individual, began to be too much lost
sight of in the consideration of man as a citizen ; his
uses, his duties, the whole worth and significance of
his life, came to be estimated too exclusively by his
 INTRODUCTION. xxi

tendency—they centred each man's activity and

interest upon himself alone, they bade him take no
thought for any other earthly or heavenly thing, and
taught him that this ideal of indifference was realised
in its full perfection by the Gods, who dwelt apart in
divine repose while blind necessity had its way with
human destiny.
Pyrrho of Elis, a rather earlier teacher than Zeno
or Epicurus, who is said to have studied philosophy
under Indian Gymnosophists and Chaldean Magi, was
the originator in European thought of a great and
permanent philosophic movement. His school was
inspired by the Geist der stets verneint, and the term
Sceptic was first devised to describe its attitude. Its
strength is in a discovery which inevitably takes
place when men begin to reflect upon their own
mental operations—the discovery, namely, that, given
a perceiving mind and a perceived object, it is always
possible for the former, if it has the power of
introspection, to doubt whether it has received a
really true and faithful impression of the latter. How
can we be assured that external objects are as we
perceive them ? How can we even be assured that
there is any principle of constancy in their relations
to our consciousness ? The senses often delude us ;
we are convinced, in dreams, of the reality of
appearances which, nevertheless, have no reality—why
xxii INTRODUCTION.

may not all perception be a delusion ? Why may not

even our sense of the validity of inference and of the
truth of the axioms of geometry be a pure hallucina
tion ? With these searching questions the Sceptic cut
at the root of all belief, and the problems which they
raise have dominated philosophy down to the present
day. Nor in two thousand years has any logical
answer to them ever been found. Lotze, the last
thinker of really first-rate powers that the world has
seen, practically abandons all inquiry into theories of
perception, and starts with the assumption that we
are living in a kosmos, not a chaos ; that the order,
coherence, reason in things to which consciousness
testifies, are realities. In antiquity, I may add, the
profound problems raised by Pyrrhonism do not seem
to have been very profoundly apprehended either by
the Pyrrhonists or their opponents. The latter had
nothing better to appeal to than that notoriously
feeble resource, the argumentum ad hominem. If
the Pyrrhonist distrusted the evidence of his senses,
they asked, why did he avoid walking over precipices
or into the sea, or eat bread instead of earth, or in
any way make choice of means for ends ? The
Pyrrhonist's answer was equally superficial. It
anticipated the famous formula of Bishop Butler.
Probability, argued they, was the guide of life —
having observed certain results to follow from certain
 INTRODUCTION. xxiii

antecedents, the prudent man will shape his course

in life accordingly, although, as a matter of theory
and speculation, he may refuse to believe in the
constancy of nature. This answer involves a clear
inconsistency. It involves even a greater assumption
than that which the Pyrrhonist refused to make as to
the credibility of his perceptions—the assumption of
the credibility of his recollections. To the thorough
going Sceptic there is no such thing as past experience
—he is, as it were, new-born at each instant of his life.
Such, in outline, were the systems against which
the Stoic philosophy had to make good its position in
the ancient world. From the first there seems to
have been no doubt of its ability to do so, although,
unhappily, the records which have been preserved
of the teaching of its earliest days are few and
obscure. The writings of Zeno, the founder of
Stoicism, and of Chrysippus, his immediate successor
in the leadership of the school, have utterly perished,
while of Cleanthes, the third of the early Stoic
teachers, very little remains beyond the profound and
majestic Hymn to Zeus, of which I have given a
translation in this work. The complete loss of the
hundreds of treatises produced by Chrysippus is
especially to be regretted, as he appears to have
taken the main part in giving shape and system to
the Stoic philosophy. "Had Chrysippus not been.
xxiv INTRODUCTION.

the Stoa had not been," was a proverbial saying

which testifies to his fame. However, from the
accounts of ancient philosophers in Diogenes Laertius,
from Plutarch, Seneca, Cicero, and a few other
authorities, we can learn pretty clearly what the
framework of the Stoic system had grown to be
long before Epictetus began to study it.
In antiquity, a philosophic system was expected to
have something to say for itself on three different
branches of study—Logic, Physics (which included
cosmogony and theology), and Ethics. We think of
the Stoics chiefly in connection with the last-named
of these subjects, but they were no less eminent in
the others, and Chrysippus, in particular, was held to
have done so much for the science of logic that a
saying was current—" If there were dialectic among
the Gods, it must be the dialectic of Chrysippus." Of
the Stoic contributions to this science, scarcely any
record remains.
Of their physical system, however, much is known,
and the reader of Epictetus needs to be acquainted
with its general features. These were borrowed from
an earlier thinker, Heracleitus, whose central doctrine
was that the universe was an eternal flux and transi
tion ; everything was in a state of becoming, ein
Werdendes. At the beginning of things, so far as they
can be said to have any beginning, is the Deity in
 INTRODUCTION. rsx

his purest manifestation, which, be it observed, is a

strictly material one, a sublimated and ethereal fire,
aWepuSes irvp. In this fire dwelt the divine creative
thought and impulse. The first step in that process
of differentiation in which development consists is the
production of vapour, which condensed into water.
Two elementary forces play their part in these
operations—a movement towards within, and a move
ment towards without, the one a densifying, the other
an expanding and straining force (twos). The former
gives us solidity in matter, the other the qualities
and energies of matter. Thus, by various degrees of
density, we get earth, water, atmospheric air, and from
air, the common element of earthly fire ; and these
elements in their various combinations, with their
various attributes and powers, gradually produce the
successive stages of organic life, Though all these pro
ceed from the substance of the Divine Being, the Stoics
recognised, in the derived substances which make up
the universe as we have it now, various degrees of
purity, of affinity to their original source. Man's body,
for instance, with its passions and affections, lies
comparatively far from the divine ; but his soul is a
veritable ray of the primitive fire, Deus in corpore
humano hospitans. The popular mythology of the
clay was entirely rejected by the Stoics, although, as
Professor Mahaffy points out, they never attempted to
xxvi INTRODUCTION.

" discredit orthodoxy," but, on the contrary, used its

myths and ceremonies with the utmost reverence as
vehicles of profound religious truths. But they
certainly believed in intelligences above man, yet
below the one Supreme Being ; thus the stars and the
lightning (the reader will observe the allusions in the
Hymn of Cleanthes) are in some sense divinities, by
virtue of the supposed purity of their fiery essence.
Thus from the one primitive divine element the
Kosmos, with all its hierarchy of being, is evolved.
But in the Stoic system iravra pet,1 there is no con
tinuance in any one condition. As in the normal life
of all earthly creatures there comes a certain climax
or turning point, after which the forces of decay gain
slowly but surely on those of growth and resistance,
so also runs the history of the universe which
includes them all. One by one the steps by which it
was formed shall be retraced, and the derived sub
stances which compose it consumed and re-absorbed
by that from which they sprang. From matter in its
grossest form to its purest, from earth and stone and
water to the highest intelligence in men and daemons
and Gods, nothing shall escape this doom of disso
lution; everything shall yield up its separate

1 irdvra />d, all flows—the cardinal doctrine of the Heracleitean

philosophy.
 INTRODUCTION. xxrii

existence, until at last the indestructible element

of that primaeval fire is again the sole being that
remains, and Zeus is "alone in the conflagration,"
self-contemplating in the solitudes of thought. But
this is not the end. There is no end. The plastic
impulse again resumes its sway, and soon another
cycle of world-development and world-destruction
begins to run its course. In the language of Seneca,
" When that fatal day, that necessity of the times,
shall have arrived, and it seems good to God to make
an end of old things and ordain the better, then shall
the ancient order be revoked and every creature be
generated anew, and a race ignorant of guilt be given
to the earth."
This was the general physical system on which all
Stoics were agreed, although there were differences of
opinion upon minor points ; such as how far these
successive cycles resembled each other ? some asserting
that they did so in the minutest detail, others only in
their larger features. It was a system, for all its
superstitions, not without grandeur and truth. At
bottom it expressed a sense of that phenomenon of
ebb and flow, systole and diastole, the action and
counteraction of balanced forces, which is perhaps the
profoundest law of life.
Two questions arise in connection with the Stoic
cosmogony, which we must briefly discuss before
xxviii INTRODUCTION.

proceeding farther. Are we justified in terming their

view of the universe a materialistic one? and what
was their doctrine of the destinies of the human soul ?
Now it is certainly the usual practice among writers
on philosophy to reckon the Stoics as materialists,
and it is unquestionably true that they denied the
possibility of any existence which was not corporeal.
Strong as they are on the supremacy of the human
soul over the human body, sharp as is the line with
which they divide these elements, yet the distinction
is a moral, not a metaphysical one—each is an actual
material substance. But we shall be seriously mis
taken, nevertheless, if we place them in the same
class with the scientific materialists of the present
day. According to the latter, Thought is no neces
sary moment in the universe, but merely a product of
certain accidental combinations of matter, a product
which, when these are dissolved, must disappear from
existence, without leaving a trace of its presence
behind. Again, according to most modern opponents
of the materialistic view, Thought has an independent
and immortal being—it existed before matter was,
and would continue to exist if all matter were
annihilated. The Stoic view differed from each of
these modern theories. It held Thought and Matter
to be eternal, inseparable, and, indeed, strictly
identical. Being in its primitive and purest form
 INTRODUCTION. xxix

was Fire, a corporeal substance, but one exhibiting

consciousness, purpose, will.
As to the question of the Stoic view of the im
mortality of the human soul, it does not seem to me
to deserve so much discussion as it has received from
some commentators. It is obvious that the soul must,
in the end, share the lot of all other existences, and
be resolved into the Divine Being which was its
source. The only question that can arise is whether
this resolution takes place at the moment of death, or
whether the sense of personal identity persists for a
certain period beyond that event ; and this question,
which Epictetus appears to have been wise enough to
leave an open one, is philosophically of very little im
portance. The soul is immortal, the individual per
ishes; this is the conclusion of Stoicism, and if we know
this, there is little else it can much concern us to know.
The reader who desires to gain a thorough know
ledge of Hellenistic philosophy, and of the social and
political conditions in which it throve, will find what
he seeks in two works to which I have to express
my large indebtedness. One is Zeller's Philosophic
der Griechen (Epikureer, StoiJcer u. Skeptiker)1, a
monument of German research and erudition, in
which vast masses of original material for the study

1 An English translation of this work has lately appeared.

xxx INTRODUCTION.

of this most interesting, but neglected, epoch of the

development of European intellect have been brought
together, and interpreted with more than German
lucidity and method. The other is Professor
Mahaffy's recent volume, Greek Life and Thought, a
study of the Hellenistic period in various aspects,
which the scholar will not read without profit, nor the
lay-reader without pleasure.
We turn now to that department of the Stoic
philosophy with which the reader of Epictetus is most
concerned—its Ethics.
The ethical question resolves itself into a search for
the supreme object of human endeavour, the Summum
Bonum, the absolute and essential good. This, for
the Stoic, embodied itself in the formula, " to live
according to Nature." But what is Nature? The
will of God, as revealed in the heart and conscience
of those who seek to know it, and interpreted through
the observation in a reverent and faithful spirit of the
facts of life.
Going into the subject more precisely we find
certain criteria of moral truth established, irpoXrjfas,
as they were called, that is, primitive, original con
ceptions, or, as I have rendered them in my transla
tion, "natural conceptions," dogmas by which all
moral questions can be tried. If we inquire into the
source of these jrpoA^tis, we shall find ourselves
 INTRODUCTION. xxxi

mistaken in our disposition to think that the Stoics

regarded them as innate ideas. Innate they are not,
for the Stoics held the soul at birth to be a tabula
rasa, or blank page, which only experience could fill
with character and meaning. But as Seneca says in
his inquiry, " Quomodo ad nos prima boni honestique
notitia pervenerit,"1 although Nature alone could not
teach us these things, could not equip us with the
knowledge of them before we entered upon life, yet
the " seeds " of this knowledge she does give us ; the
soul of every man has implanted in it a certain
aptness or, indeed, necessity to deduce certain uni
versal truths from such observation and experience as
are common to all mankind; and these truths, the
npoX-rjfeis, though not strictly innate, have thus an
inevitableness and dogmatic force not possessed by
those which one man may reach and another miss in
the exercise of the ordinary faculties, by argument,
study, and so forth. By these natural conceptions
the existence and character of God, and the general
decrees of the moral law, are considered to be affirmed.
If we inquire further how the Stoic explained the fact
that some of these so-called inevitable and universal
conclusions are denied in all sincerity by men like
Epicurus, who were neither bad nor mad, we strike

1 Ep. 120. 4. fi.

xxxii INTRODUCTION.

upon the difficulty which confronts all systems that

aim at setting up any absolute canon of truth,
expressible in human language, in place of that pro
gressive and infinitely varied revelation of God's mind
and purpose to which the uncoloured facts of the
world's religious history seem to testify.
The natural conceptions, as I have said, contain the
primary doctrines of ethics. None of these are more
important for the Stoic than that which declares
essential Good to lie in the active, not the passive side
of man ; in the will, not in the flesh, nor in anything
else which the will is unable to control. But a
certain relative and conditional goodness may lie in
matters which are yet of no moment to the spiritual
man, to that part of him which seeks the essential
good. And we must note that when Epictetus speaks
of certain things as good or bad or indifferent, he is
generally speaking of them in their relation to the
spiritual man, and in the most absolute and uncon
ditional sense. No evil can happen to the essential
part of man, to that side of him which is related to
the eternal and divine, without his own will. Hence
the death of a beloved friend, or child, or wife, is no
evil ; and if it be no evil, we are forbidden to grieve
for it, or, in the most usual phrase with Epictetus,
we are not to be troubled or confounded by it,
Tapda-a-io-dai. But if this utterance should shock our
 INTRODUCTION. xxxiii

natural feelings, it will do something which assuredly

Epictetus never meant it to do. It is the soul of man
which these events cannot injure, and it is the soul
which is forbidden to think itself injured by them.
Such love of the individual as may be embraced in the
larger love of the All, of God—such grief for bereave
ments and calamities as does not overwhelm the inner
man (ii. 19) in a " wave of mortal tumult," and dull
his vital sense of the great moral ends which he was
born to pursue, is repeatedly and explicitly admitted
by Epictetus. Thus, in iii. 2, we have him arguing
against Epicurus that there are certain natural
sympathies between man and his kind, and even
convicting Epicurus himself of a secret belief in these
sympathies. Epicurus had dissuaded his followers
from marriage, and the bringing-up of children, on
account of the grief and anxiety which such relations
necessarily entail. Not so the Stoics—they pressed
their disciples to enter into the ordinary earthly rela
tionships of husband, or wife, or citizen, and this
without pretending to have found any means of avert
ing the natural consequences which Epicurus dreaded,
although they did profess to have discovered some
thing in man which made him equal to the endurance
of them. Again, although the condition of airdOeia of
inward peace, of freedom from passions, is again and
again represented by Epictetus as the mark of the
xxxiv INTRODUCTION.

perfect sage, we are told that this airadtia is something

quite different from "apathy"—a man is not to
be emotionless " like a statue." And a third passage
confirming this view is to be found in Book I., ch.
xi. (Schweighauser), where the conduct of a man who
was so afflicted by the illness of his little daughter
that he ran away from the house, and would hear
news of her only through messages, is condemned,
not for the affection and anxiety it proved, but for
its utter unreasonableness. " Would you," asks
Epictetus, "have her mother and her nurse and
her pedagogue, who all love her too, also run away
from her, and leave her to die in the hands of persons
who neither love nor care for her at all ? " There is
a grief which is really a self-indulgence, a barren,
absorbing, paralysing grief, which, to the soul pos
sessed by it, makes every other thing in heaven and
earth seem strange and cold and trivial. From such
grief alone Epictetus would deliver us, and I think he
would have accepted Mr. Aubrey de Vere's noble
sonnet on Sorrow as a thoroughly fit poetic statement
of Stoic doctrine on this subject :—
" Count each affliction, whether light or grave,
God's messenger sent down to thee ; do thou
With courtesy receive him ; rise and bow ;
And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave
Permission first his heavenly feet to lave ;
 INTRODUCTION. xxxv

Then lay before him all thou hast, allow

No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow,
Or mar thy hospitality ; no wave
Of mortal tumult to obliterate
The soul's marmoreal calmness : Grief should bo
Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate ;
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free ;
Strong to consume small troubles ; to commend
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to
the end."

But the grief that shall do this is a grief that must be

felt. And Epictetus assuredly never meant to offer
the Stoic philosophy as a mere stupefying anodyne.
Make the man a Stoic, and something yet remains to
do—to make the Stoic a man. One of these purposes
was not more the concern of Epictetus than the other.
And he pursued both of them with a strength,
sincerity, and sanity of thought, with a power of
nourishing the heroic fibre in humanity, which, to
my mind, make him the very chief of Pagan
moralists.
It is no purpose of mine to fill this preface with
information which the reader can gain without doubt
or difficulty from the author whom it introduces, and
therefore I shall leave him to discover for himself
what the positive ethical teaching of Epictetus was
like. Nor is it, unhappily, possible to say much upon
xxxvi INTRODUCTION.

another subject on which Epictetus gives us little or

no information—his own life and circumstances.
Arrian wrote a biography of him, but it is now
entirely lost, and the biographical details which have
been collected from Simplicius, Suidas, Aulus Gellius,
and others are very scanty. He was born at
Hierapolis, in Phrygia, and became, how is unknown,
a slave of Epaphroditus, a freedman and favourite of
Nero, who is recorded to have treated him with great
cruelty. One day, it is said, Epaphroditus began
twisting his leg for amusement. Epictetus said, " If
you go on you will break my leg." Epaphroditus
persisted, the leg was broken, and Epictetus, with
unruffled serenity, only said, " Did I not tell you
that you would break my leg?" This circum
stance is adduced by Celsus in his famous
controversy with Origen as an instance of Pagan
fortitude equal to anything which Christian mar-
tyrology had to show;1 but it is probably a mere
myth which grew up to account for the fact men
tioned by Simplicius and Suidas that Epictetus was
feeble in body and lame from an early age.
Epaphroditus was probably a very bad master, and
as a favourite and intimate of Nero's, must have been

1 Gregory Nazianzen, commenting on this narrative, remarks that

it only «hows how manfully unavoidable sufferings may be borne.
 INTRODUCTION. xxxvii

a bad man ; but we have to thank him for the fact

that Epictetus, while yet a slave, was sent to
attend the philosophic lectures of Musonius Rufus, an
eminent Stoic of Rome, whom both Epictetus and
Marcus Aurelius mention with great respect. The
system of philosophic training had been at this time
long organised. There were masters of repute every
where, who delivered their instruction in regular
courses, received a fixed payment for the same, and
under whom crowds of young men assembled from
far and near to study science and ethics—to receive,
in short, what corresponded to a university education
in those days. The curious circumstance that a slave
like Epictetus could participate in advantages of this
kind is generally explained as the result of a fashion
able whim which possessed Roman nobles at this
time for having philosophers and men of culture
among their slaves. Professor MahafFy, in his Greek
Life and Thought (p. 132), commenting on the
summons of the two philosophers, Anaxarchus and
Callisthenes, to console Alexander after his murder of
Cleitus, observes that it was probably usual to call in
philosophers to minister professionally in cases of
affliction. From this, to making a philosopher a
regular adjunct to a large household, even as
the baron of later times kept a fool, the step
is not great. But Epaphroditus, one thinks, must
xxxviii INTRODUCTION.

have had frequent reason to rue the choice he made

in Epictetus, if he expected his domestic philosopher
to excuse his misdeeds as Anaxarchus did those of
Alexander on the occasion above mentioned.
In the year 94 A.D. the emperor Domitian issued
a decree expelling all philosophers from Rome—an
easily explainable proceeding on his part if there
were any large number of them who, in the words of
Epictetus, were able " to look tyrants steadily in the
face." Epictetus must have by this time obtained his
freedom and set up for himself as a professor of
philosophy, for we find him, in consequence of this
decree, betaking himself to Nicopolis, a city of Epirus.
Here he lived and taught to a venerable age, and
here he delivered the discourses which Arrian has
reported for us. He lived with great simplicity, and
is said to have had no servant or other inmate of his
house until he hired a nurse for an infant which was
about to be exposed, according to the practice of those
days when it was desired to check the inconvenient
growth of a family, and which Epictetus rescued
and brought up. The date of his death is unknown.
And now, reader, I will take my leave of you with
Arrian's farewell salutation to Lucius Gellius, which,
literally translated, is Be strong. If you need it, I
know no teacher better able to make or keep
you so than Epictetus. At any rate, to give him a fair
 INTRODUCTION. xxxix

chance of doing what it is in him to do for English-

speaking men and women is something I have re
garded as a sort of duty, a discharge of obligation for
his infinite service to myself; which done to the
utmost of my powers, the fewest forewords are
the best.
T. W. R
 CLEANTHES' HYMN TO ZEUS.1

Most glorious of the Immortals, many named, Almighty for

ever.
Zeus, ruler of Nature, that governest all things with law,
Hail ! for lawful it is that all mortals should address Thee.
For we are Thy offspring, taking the image only of Thy
voice,2 as many mortal things as live and move upon
the earth.
Therefore will I hymn Thee, and sing Thy might forever.
For Thee doth all this universe that circles round the earth
obey, moving whithersoever Thou leadest, and is gladly
swayed by Thee,
Such a minister hast Thou in Thine invincible hands ;—the
two-edged, blazing, imperishable thunderbolt
For under its stroke all Nature shuddereth, and by it thou
guidest aright the Universal Reason, that roams
through all things, mingling itself with the greater and
the lesser lights, till it have grown so great, and
become supreme king over all.
Nor is aught done on the earth without Thee, O God, nor
in the divine sphere of the heavens, nor in the sea,
Save the works that evil men do in their folly—
Yea, but Thou knowest even to find a place for super
fluous things, and to order that which is disorderly,
and things not dear to men are dear to Thee.

1 See notes on the Hymn of Cleanthes.

537
2 CLEANTHES HYMN TO ZEUS.
Thus dost Thou harmonise into One all good and evil
things, that there should be one everlasting Reason of
them all.
And this the evil among mortal men avoid and heed not ;
wretched, ever desiring to possess the good, yet they
nor see nor hear the universal Law of God, which
obeying with all their heart, their life would be well.
But they rush graceless each to his own aim,
Some cherishing lust for fame, the nurse of evil strife,
Some bent on monstrous gain,
Some turned to folly and the sweet works of the flesh,
Hastening, indeed, to bring the very contrary of these
things to pass.
But Thou, O Zeus, the All-giver, Dweller in the darkness
of cloud, Lord of thunder, save Thou men from their
unhappy folly,
Which do Thou, O Father, scatter from their souls ; and
give them to discover the wisdom, in whose assurance
Thou governest all things with justice ;
So that being honoured, they may pay Thee honour,
Hymning Thy works continually, as it beseems a mortal
man.
Since there can be no greater glory for men or Gods than
this,
Duly to praise for ever the Universal Law.
THE TEACHING OF EPICTETUS,

BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
THE BEGINNING OF PHILOSOPHY.

1. Wouldst thou be good, then first believe that

thou art evil.
2. The beginning of philosophy, at least with those
who lay hold of it as they ought and enter by the
door,1 is the consciousness of their own feebleness and
incapacity in respect of necessary things.
3. For we come into the world having by nature
no idea of a right-angled triangle, or a quarter-tone,
or a semi-tone, but by a certain tradition of art we
learn each of these things. And thus those who
know them not, do not suppose that they know them.
But good and evil, and nobleness and baseness, and
the seemly and the unseemly, and happiness and mis
fortune, and what is our concern and what is not, and

1 See Notes, Bk. I., ch. i. 1. The small numerals in the text refer
throughout to the Notes at the end of the volume ; each chapter
having, where notes are necessary, its own chapter of Notes.
4 EPICTETUS.
what ought to be done and what not—who hath
come into the world without an implanted notion of
these things ? Thus we all use these terms, and
endeavour to fit our natural conceptions to every
several thing. He did well, rightly, not rightly, he
failed, he succeeded, he is unrighteous, he is righteous
—which of us spareth to use terms like these ?
Which of us will defer the use of them till he hath
learned them, even as ignorant men do not use terms
of geometry or music ? But this is the reason of it :
we come into the world already, as it were, taught by
Nature some things in this kind, and setting out
from these things we have added thereto our own
conceit.2 For how, saith one, do I not know what is
noble and what is base ? Have I not the notion of it ?
Truly. And do I not apply it to things severally ?
You do apply it. Do I not, then, apply it rightly ?
But here lies the whole question, and here conceit
entereth in. For setting out from things confessed
by all they go on by a false application to that which
is disputed. For if, in addition to those things, they
had gained also this power of application, what would
then hinder them to be perfect ? But now since you
think that you apply rightly the natural concep
tions to things severally, tell me, whence have you
this assurance ?
" Because it seems so to me."
But to another it seems otherwise—and he, too,
doth he think his application right or not ?
" He doth think it."
Can ye, then, both be rightly applying the con-

J
 THE BEGINNING OF PHILOSOPHY. 5
ceptions in matters wherein your opinions contradict
each other.
" We cannot."
Have you, then, aught better to show for your
application, or aught above this, that it seemeth so to
you ? But what else doth a madman do, than those
things that to him seem right ? And doth this rule
suffice for him ?
" It doth not suffice."
Come, then, to that which is above seeming. What
is this ?
4. Behold, the beginning of philosophy is the obser
vation of how men contradict each other, and the search
whence cometh this contradiction, and the censure
and mistrust of bare opinion. And it is an inquiry
into that which seems, whether it rightly seems ; and
the discovery of a certain rule, even as we have found
a balance for weights, and a plumb line for straight
and crooked. This is the beginning of philosophy.
Are all things right to all to whom they seem so ?
But how can contradictory things be right ?
—" Nay, then, not all things, but those that seem to
us right."
And why to you more than the Syrians, or to the
Egyptians ? Why more than to me or to any
other man. Not at all more. Seeming, then,
doth not for every man answer to Being ; for
neither in weights or measures doth the bare
appearance content us, but for each case we have
discovered some rule. And here, then, is there no
rule above seeming ? And how could it be that
6 EPlCTETUS.
there were no evidence or discovery of things the
most necessary for men ? There is, then, a rule. And
wherefore do we not seek it, and find it, and, having
found it, henceforth use it without transgression, and
not so much as stretch forth a finger without it ?
For this it is, I think, that when it is discovered
cureth of their madness those that mismeasure all
things by seeming alone ; so that henceforth, setting
out from things known and investigated, we may use
an organised body of natural conceptions in all our
several dealings.
5. What is the subject about which we are inquir
ing ? Pleasure ? Submit it to the rule, cast it into
the scales. Now the Good must be a thing of such sort
that we ought to trust in it ? Truly. And we
ought to have faith in it ? We ought. And ought
we to trust in anything which is unstable ? Nay.
And hath pleasure any stability 1 It hath not.
Take it then, and fling it out of the scales, and set it
far away from the place of the Good. But if you are
dim of sight, and one balance doth not suffice, then
take another. Is it right to be elated in what is
good ? Yea. And is it right to be elated then in the
presence of a pleasure ? See to it that thou say not
it is right ; or I shall not hold thee worthy even
of the balance.8 Thus are things judged and weighed,
when the rules are held in readiness. And the aim
of philosophy is this, to examine and establish the
rules. And to use them when they are known is the
task of an wise and good man.
 ON THE NATURAL CONCEPTIONS.

CHAPTER II.

ON THE NATURAL CONCEPTIONS.

1. The natural conceptions are common to all men,

and one cannot contradict another. For which of us
but affirms that the Good is profitable, and that we
should choose it, and in all circumstances follow and
pursue it ? Which of us but affirms that uprightness
is honourable and becoming ? Where, then, doth the
contradiction arise ? Concerning the application of
the natural conceptions to things severally. When
one saith, He did well, he is a worthy man, and
another, Nay, but he did foolishly, then there is a
contradiction among men, one with another. And
there is the same contradiction among the Jews and
the Syrians and the Egyptians and the Romans ; not
whether that which is righteous should be preferred to
all things and in all cases pursued, but whether this
be righteous or unrighteous, to eat the flesh of swine.
And ye can discover the same contradiction in the
matter of Achilles and Agamemnon. For call them
before us : What sayest thou, Agamemnon, Should not
that "which
That is
should
right it."
and fair come to pass ?

And what sayest thou, Achilles, Doth it not please

thee "that
Of all
what
things
is fair
thisand
doth
right
most
should
please
beme."
done ?

Then make application of your natural conceptions.

Whence arose this dispute ? The one saith : 1 am
8 EPICTETUS.
not bound to deliver up Ghryseis to her father. And
the other saith : Thou art bound. Assuredly one of
them must ill apply the conception of duty. And
again the one saith : Therefore if I should deliver up
Chryseis, it is meet that I take his prize from one of
you. And the other : Wouldst thou, then, take from
me my beloved ? He saith : Yea, even thine. And
shall I alone, and / alone, have nothing ? And thus
ariseth the contradiction.
2. What is it, then, to be educated ? It is to learn to
apply the natural conceptions to each thing severally
according to nature ; and further, to discern that of
things that exist some are in our own power1 and the
rest are not in our own power. And things that are
in our own power are the will, and all the works of
the will. And things that are not in our own
power are the body, and the parts of the body,
and possessions and parents and brethren and chil
dren and country and, in a word, our associates.
Where now shall we place the Good? To what
objects shall we apply it 1 To those which are in our
own power ? Then is health not good, and whole
limbs and life % and are not children and parents and
country ? And who will bear with you if you say
this ? Let us, then, transfer it to these things. Now,
can one be happy who is injured, and has missed
gaining what is good 1 He cannot. And can such a
one bear himself towards his fellows as he ought ?
How is it possible that he should ? For I have it of
nature that I must seek my own profit. If it profits
me to own a piece of land, it profits me to take it from
 THE MASTER-FACULTY. g
my neighbour. If it profits me to have a garment, it
profits me to steal it from the bath. And hence wars,
seditions, tyrannies, conspiracies. And how shall
I be able to maintain a right mind towards God ?
for if I suffer injury and misfortune, it cannot be
but He neglects me. And what have I to do with
Him if He cannot help me ? And, again, what have
I to do with Him if he is willing to let me continue
in the evils in which I am ? Henceforth I begin to
hate Him. Why, then, do we build temples and set
up statues to Zeus as we do to powers of evil, such as
Fever ?2 And how is He now the Saviour and the
Raingiver and the Fruitgiver ? And verily, all this
follows, if we place anywhere in external things the
nature and being of the Good.

CHAPTER III.

THE MASTER-FACULTY.

1. Of all our faculties ye shall find but one that

can contemplate itself, or, therefore, approve or
disapprove itself. How far hath grammar the power
of contemplation ? Only so far as to judge concern
ing letters. And music ? Only so far as to judge
concerning melodies. Doth any of them, then, con
template itself ? Not one. But when you have need
to write to your friend, grammar will tell you how to
ro EPICTETUS.
write ; but whether to write or not, grammar will not
tell. And so with the musical art in the case of
melodies ; but whether it is now meet or not to sing
or to play, music will not tell. What, then, will tell
it ? That faculty which both contemplates itself and
all other things. And what is this ? It is the faculty
of Reason ; for we have received none other which
can consider itself—what it is, and what it can, and
what it is worth—and all the other faculties as well.
For what else is it that tells us that a golden thing is
beautiful, since itself doth not ? Clearly it is the
faculty which makes use of appearances. What else
is it that judges of music and grammar, and the other
faculties, and proves their uses, and shows the fit
occasions ? None else than this.
2. Thus the Gods, as it was fit they should, place
that only in our power which is the mightiest and
master thing, the right use of appearances ; but other
things are not in our power. Was it that they did
not wish it ? I indeed think that had they been able
they had made over to us those things also ; but this
they could in no way do. For being on the earth, and
bound up with this flesh and with these associates,
how was it possible that as regards these we should
not be hindered by external things ? But what saith
Zeus ? " Epictetus, if it were possible, I would have
made both this thy little body and thy little property
free and unhampered. But forget not now that this
is but finely tempered clay, and nothing of thine
own. And since I could not do this, I have given
thee a part of ourselves, this power of desiring and
 THE MASTER-FACULTY. ti
disliking, and pursuing, avoiding, and rejecting, and,
in brief, the use of appearances. Have a care, then, of
this, hold this only for thine own, and thou shalt
never be hindered or hampered, thou shalt not lament,
thou shalt not blame, thou shalt never flatter any
man." What then ? Do these seem trifling matters ?
God forbid. Are you, then, not content with them ?
At least I pray the Gods I may be.1
3. But now having one thing in our power to care
for, and to cleave to, we rather choose to be careful of
many things, and to bind ourselves to many things,
even to the flesh, and to possessions, and to brother
and friend and child and slave. And being thus
bound to many things, they lie heavy on us and drag
us down. So, if the weather be not fair for sailing,
we sit down distraught and are ever peering forth to
see how stands the wind. It is north. And what is
that to us ? When will the west wind blow ? When
it shall seem good to it, friend ; or to Aeolus. For it
was not thee, but Aeolus whom God made " steward
of the winds."2 What then ? It is right to devise
how we may perfect the things that are our own,
and to use the others as their nature is. And what,
then, is their nature ? As it may please God.
i2 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER IV.

THE NATURE OF THE GOOD.

1. The subject for the good and wise man is his own
master-faculty, as the body is for the physician and
the trainer, and the soil is the subject for the hus
bandman. And the work of the good and wise man
is to use appearances according to Nature. For it is
the nature of every soul to consent to what is good
and to reject what is evil, and to hold back about
what is uncertain; and thus to be moved to pursue
the good and to avoid the evil, and neither way
towards what is neither good nor evil. For as it is
not lawful for the money-changer or the seller of
herbs to reject Caesar's coin, but if one present it,
then, whether he will or no, he must give up what is
sold for it, so it is also with the soul. When the Good
appears, straightway the soul is moved towards it, and
from the Evil. And never doth the soul reject any
clear appearance of the good, no more than Caesar's
coin. On this hangeth every movement both of God
and man.
2. The nature and essence of the Good is in a cer
tain disposition of the Will ; likewise that of the Evil.
What, then, are outward things ? Matter for the Will,
about which being occupied it shall attain its own
good or evil. How shall it attain the Good ? Through
not being dazzled with admiration of what it works
on.1 For our opinions of this, when right, make the
 THE NATURE OF THE GOOD. 13
will right, and when wrong make it evil. This law
hath God established, and saith, "If thou wouldst
have aught of good, have it from thyself."
3. If these things are true (and if we are not fools
or hypocrites), that Good, for man, lies in the Will,
and likewise Evil, and all other things are nothing
to us, why are we still troubled ? why do we fear ?
The things for which we have been zealous are in
no other man's power ; and for the things that are
in others' power we are not concerned. What
difficulty have we now ? But direct me, sayest thou.
And why shall I direct thee ? hath not God directed
thee ? hath He not given thee that which is thine
own unhindered and unhampered, and hindered and
hampered that which is not thine own ? And what
direction, what word of command didst thou receive
from Him when thou earnest thence ? " Hold
fast everything which is thine own—covet not
that which is alien to thee. And faithfulness is
thine, and reverence is thine : who, then, can rob
thee of these things ? who can hinder thee to use
them, if not thyself ? But thyself can do it, and
how ? When thou art zealous about things not
thine own, and hast cast away the things that are."
With such counsels and commands from Zeus, what
wilt thou still from me ? Am I greater than he ?
am I more worthy of thy faith ? But if thou hold
to these things, of what others hast thou need ?
But perchance these are none of his commands?
Then bring forward the natural conceptions, bring
the proofs of the philosophers, bring the things thou
14 EPICTETUS.
hast often heard, bring the things that thyself hast
spoken, bring what thou hast read, bring what thou
hast pondered.

CHAPTER V.

THE PROMISE OF PHILOSOPHY.

1. Of things that exist, some are in our own power,

some are not in our own power. Of things that are
in our own power are our opinions, impulses, pursuits,
avoidances, and, in brief, all that is of our own doing.
Of things that are not in our own power are the body,
possessions, reputation, authority, and, in brief, all
that is not of our own doing. And the things that
are in our own power are in their nature free, not
liable to hindrance or embarrassment, while the
things that are not in our own power are strengthless,
servile, subject, alien.
2. Remember, then, if you hold things by their nature
subject to be free, and things alien to be your proper
concern, you will be hampered, you will lament, you
will be troubled, you will blame Gods and men.
But if you hold that only to be your own which is so,
and the alien for what it is, alien, then none shall
ever compel you, none shall hinder you, you will
blame no one, accuse no one, you will not do the least
thing unwillingly, none shall harm you, you shall
have no foe, for you shall suffer no injury.
 THE WAY OF PHILOSOPHY. x$
3. Aiming, then, at things so high, remember that it
is no moderate passion wherewith you must attempt
them, but some things you must utterly renounce,
and put some, for the present, aside. For if, let us
say, you aim also at this, to rule and to gather riches,
then you are like, through aiming at the chief things
also, to miss these lower ends; and shall most
assuredly miss those others, through which alone
freedom and happiness are won. Straightway, then,
practise saying to every harsh appearance—Thou art
an Appearance and not at all the thing thou appearest
to be. Then examine it, and prove it by the rules you
have, but first and above all by this, whether it
concern something that is in our own power, or some
thing that is not in our own power. And if the
latter, then be the thought at hand : It is nothing
to Me.

CHAPTER VI,

THE WAT OF PHILOSOPHY.

1. A certain Roman having entered with his son

and listened to one lecture, " This," said Epictetus,
" is the manner of teaching ; " and he was silent. But
when the other prayed him to continue, he spake as
follows :—
Every art is wearisome, in the learning of it, to
the untaught and unskilled. Yet things that are
16 EPICTETUS.
made by the arts immediately declare their use, and
for what they were made, and in most of them is
something attractive and pleasing. And thus when a
shoemaker is learning his trade it is no pleasure to
stand by and observe him, but the shoe is useful, and
moreover not unpleasing to behold. And the learning
of a carpenter's trade is very grievous to an untaught
person who happens to be present, but the work done
declares the need of the art. But far more is this
seen in music, for if you are by where one is learning,
it will appear the most painful of all instructions ;
but that which is produced by the musical art is
sweet and delightful to hear, even to those who are
untaught in it. And here we conceive the work of
one who studies philosophy to be some such thing,
that he must fit his desire to all events, so that
nothing may come to pass against our will, nor may
aught fail to come to pass that we wish for. Whence
it results to those who so order it, that they never
fail to obtain what they would, nor to avoid what
they would not, living, as regards themselves, without
pain, fear, or trouble ; and as regards their fellows,
observing all the relations, natural and acquired ; as
son or father, or brother or citizen, or husband or
wife, or neighbour or fellow-traveller, or prince or
subject. Such we conceive to be the work of one who
pursues philosophy. And next we must inquire how
this may come about.
2. We see, then, that the carpenter becomes a car
penter by learning something, and by learning some
thing the pilot becomes a pilot. And here also is it
 THE WAY OF PHILOSOPHY. 17
not on this wise ? Is it enough that we merely wish
to become good and wise, or must we not also learn
something ? We inquire, then, what we have to learn.
3. The philosphers say that, before all things, it is
needful to learn that God is, and taketh thought for
all things; and that nothing can be hid from him,
neither deeds, nor even thoughts or wishes. There
after, of what nature the Gods are. For whatever
they are found to be, he who would please and serve
them must strive, with all his might, to be like
unto them. If the Divine is faithful, so must he be
faithful ; if free, so must he be free ; if beneficent, so
must he be beneficent ; if high-minded, so must he be
high-minded; so that thus emulating God, he shall
both do and speak the things that follow therefrom.1
4. Whence, then, shall we make a beginning ? If
you will consider this with me, I shall say, first, that
you must attend to the sense of words.2
" So I do not now understand them ? "
You do not.
" How, then, do I use them ? "
As the unlettered use written words, or as cattle use
appearances ; for the use is one thing and understand
ing another. But if you think you understand, then
take any word you will,3 and let us try ourselves,
whether we understand it. But it is hateful to be
confuted, for a man now old, and one who, perhaps,
hath served his three campaigns ? And I too know this.
For you have come to me now as one who lacketh
nothing. And what could you suppose to be lacking
to you ? Wealth have you, and children, and it may
538
18 EPICTETUS.
be a wife, and many servants ; Caesar knows you, you
have won many friends in Rome, you give every man
his due, you reward with good him that doeth good to
you, and with evil him that doeth evil. What is still
lacking to you ? If, now, I shall show you that you
lack the greatest and most necessary things for
happiness, and that to this day you have cared for
everything rather than for what behoved you ; and if
I crown all and say that you know not what God is
nor what man is, nor Good nor Evil ;—and what I say
of other things is perhaps endurable, but if I say you
know not your own self, how can you endure me, and
bear the accusation, and abide here? Never—but
straightway you will go away in anger. And yet
what evil have I done you ? Unless the mirror doth
evil to the ill-favoured man, when it shows him to
himself such as he is, and unless the physician is
thought to affront the sick man when he may say to
him : Man, dost thou think thou ailest nothing ? Thou
hast a fever : fast to-day and drink water. And
none saith, What an affront. But if one shall say to
a man : Thy pursuits are inflamed, thine avoidances
are mean, thy purposes are lawless, thy impulses
accord not with nature, thine opinions are vain and
lying—straightway he goeth forth and saith, He
affronted me.
5. We follow our business as in a great fair. Cattle
and oxen are brought to be sold; and the greater
part of the men come some to buy, some to sell;
and few are they who come for the spectacle of
the fair,—how it comes to pass, and wherefore, and
 THE WAY OF PHILOSOPHY. 19
who are they who have established it, and to what
end. And so it is here, too, in this assembly of life.
Some, indeed, like cattle, concern themselves with
nothing but fodder ; even such as those that care for
possessions and lands and servants and offices, for
these are nothing more than fodder. But few are
they who come to the fair for love of the spectacle,
what the world is and by whom it is governed. By
no one ? And how is it possible that a state or a
house cannot endure, no not for the shortest time,
without a governor and overseer, but this so great
and fair fabric should be guided thus orderly by
chance and accident ? There is, then, one who
governs. But what is his nature ? and how doth he
govern? and we, that were made by him, what are
we, and for what are we ? or have we at least some
intercourse and link with him, or have we none ?
Thus it is that these few are moved, and thenceforth
study this alone, to learn about the fair, and to
depart. What then ? they are mocked by the multi
tude. And in the fair, too, the observers are mocked
by the traders ; and had the cattle any reflection they
would mock all those who cared for anything else
than fodder.

/
20 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER VII.

TO THE LEARNER.

1. Remember that pursuit declares the aim of attain

ing the thing pursued, and avoidance that of not
falling into the thing shunned ; and he who fails
in his pursuit is unfortunate, and it is misfortune to
fall into what he would avoid. If now you shun
only those things in your power which are contrary
to Nature, you shall never fall into what you would
avoid. But if you shun disease or death or poverty,
you shall have misfortune.
2. Turn away, then, your avoidance from things not
in our power, and set it upon things contrary to Nature
which are in our power. And let pursuit for the
present be utterly effaced ; for if you are pursuing
something that is not in our power, it must needs be
that you miscarry, and of things that are, as many as
you may rightly aim at, none are yet open to you.
But use only desire and aversion, and that indeed
lightly, and with reserve, and indifferently.
3. No great thing cometh suddenly into being, for
not even a bunch of grapes can, or a fig. If you say
to me now : 7" desire a fig, I answer that there is need
of time : let it first of all flower, and then bring forth
the fruit, and then ripen. When the fruit of a fig-tree
is not perfected at once, and in a single hour, would
you win the fruit of a man's mind thus quickly and
easily ? Even if I say to you, expect it not.
 TO THE LEARNER. 21
4. To fulfil the promise of a man's nature is itself
no common thing. For what is a man ? A living
creature, say you ; mortal, and endowed with Reason.
And from what are we set apart by Reason ? From
the wild beasts. And what others ? From sheep
and the like. Look to it, then, that thou do nothing
like a wild beast, for if thou do, the man in thee
perisheth, thou hast not fulfilled his promise.
Look to it, that thou do nothing like a sheep, or
thus too the man hath perished. What, then, can
we do as sheep ? When we are gluttonous, sensual,
reckless, filthy, thoughtless, to what are we then
sunken ? To sheep. What have we lost ? Our
faculty of Reason. And when we are contentious, and
hurtful, and angry and violent, to what are wo
sunken ? To wild beasts. And for the rest some of
us are great wild beasts, and some of us little and
evil ones; whereby we may say, "Let me at least
be eaten by a lion." * But through all these things
the promise of the man's nature has been ruined.
5. For when is a complex proposition safe ? 2 When
it fulfils its promise. So that the validity of a
complex proposition is when it is a complex of truths.
And when is a disjunctive safe ? When it fulfils
its promise. And when are flutes, or a lyre, or a
horse, or a dog ? What marvel is it, then, if a man
also is to be saved in the same way, and perish in
the same way ?
6. But each thing is increased and saved by
the corresponding works—the carpenter by the
practice of carpentry, the grammarian by the study
22 EPICTETUS.
of grammar ; but if he use to write ungram
matically, it must needs be that his art shall be
corrupted and destroyed. Thus, too, the works of
reverence save the reverent man, and those of shame-
lessness destroy him. And works of faithfulness
save the faithful man, and the contrary destroy him.
And men of the contrary character are strengthened
therein by contrary deeds ; the irreverent by irrev
erence, the faithless by faithlessness, the reviler by
reviling, the angry by anger, the avaricious by unfair
giving and taking.
7. Know, that not easily shall a conviction arise in a
man unless he every day speak the same things
and hear the same things, and at the same time apply
them unto life.
8. Every great power is perilous to beginners. Thou
must bear such things according to thy strength. But
I must live according to Nature ? That is not for a
sick man.8 Lead thy life as a sick man for a while, so
that thou mayest hereafter live it as a whole man.
Fast, drink water, abstain for a while from pursuit of
every kind, in order that thou mayest pursue as Reason
bids. And if as Reason bids, then when thou shalt have
aught of good in thee, thy pursuit shall be well. Nay,
but we would live as sages and do good to men. What
good ? What will thou do ? Hast thou done good to
thyself ? But thou would'st exhort them ? And hast
thou exhorted thyself ? 4 Thou would'st do them good
—then do not chatter to them, but show them in thyself
what manner of men philosophy can make. In thy
eating do good to those that eat with thee, in thy
 THE CYNIC. 23

drinking to those that drink, by yielding and giving

place to all, and bearing with them. Thus do them
good, and not by spitting thy bile upon them.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CYNIC.1

1. One of his pupils, who seemed to be drawn

towards the way of Cynicism, inquired of Epictetus
what manner of man the Cynic ought to be, and
what was the natural conception of the thing. And
Epictetus said : Let us look into it at leisure. But so
much I have now to say to you, that whosoever shall
without God attempt so great a matter stirreth up the
wrath of God against him, and desireth only to behave
himself unseemly before the people. For in no well-
ordered house doth one come in and say to himself:
I should be the steward of the house, else, when
the lord of the house shall have observed it, and
seeth him insolently giving orders, he will drag him
forth and chastise him. So it is also in this great city
of the universe, for here too there is a master of the
house who ordereth each and all : ' Thou art the Sun ;
thy power is to travel round and to make the year and
the seasons, and to increase and nourish fruits, and to
stir the winds and still them, and temperately to
warm the bodies of men. Go forth, run thy course,
24 EPICTETUS.
and minister thus to the greatest things and to the
least. Thou art a calf ; when a lion shall appear, do
what befits thee, or it shall be worse for thee.
Thou art a bull ; come forth and fight, for this is thy
part and pride, and this thou canst. Thou art able to
lead the army against Ilion ; be Agamemnon. Thou
canst fight in single combat with Hector ; be Achilles.
But if Thersites came forth and pretended to the
authority, then either he would not gain it, or,
gaining it, he would have been shamed before many
witnesses.
2. And about this affair, do thou take thought upon
it earnestly, for it is not such as it seemeth to thee. /
wear a rough cloak now, and I shall wear it then ; 2
/ sleep hard now, and 1 shall sleep so then. I will
take to myself a wallet and staff, and I will begin to
go about and beg, and to reprove everyone I meet with;
and if I shall see one that plucks out his hairs, I will
censure him, or one that hath his hair curled, or that
goes in purple raiment. If thou conceivest the matter
on this wise, far be it from thee—go not near it, it is
not for thee. But if thou conceivest of it as it is, and
holdest thyself not unworthy of it, then behold to
how great an enterprise thou art putting forth thine
hand.
3. First, in things that concern thyself, thou must
appear in nothing like unto what thou now doest.
Thou must not accuse God nor man; thou must
utterly give over pursuit, and avoid only those things
that are in the power of thy will ; anger is not meet
for thee, nor resentment, nor envy, nor pity;3 nor
 THE CYNIC. 25
must a girl appear to thee fair, nor must reputation,
nor a flat cake.* For it must be understood that other
men shelter themselves by walls and houses and by
darkness when they do such things, and many means
of concealment have they. One shutteth the door,
placeth someone before the chamber ; if anyone should
come, say, He is out, he is busy. But in place of all
these things it behoves the Cynic to shelter himself
behind his own piety and reverence; but if he
doth not, he shall be put to shame, naked under
the sky. This is his house, this his door, this the
guards of his chamber, this his darkness. For he
must not seek to hide aught that he doeth, else he is
gone, the Cynic hath perished, the man who lived
under the open sky, the freeman. He hath begun to
fear something from without, he hath begun to need
concealment ; nor can he find it when he would, for
where shall he hide himself, and how ? And if by
chance this tutor, this public teacher, should be found
in guilt, what things must he not suffer ! And
fearing these things, can he yet take heart with his
whole soul to guide the rest of mankind ? That
can he never : it is impossible !
4. First, then, thou must purify thy ruling faculty,
and this vocation of thine also, saying : Now it is my
mind I must shape, as the carpenter shapes wood
and the shoemaker leather ; and the thing to be
formed is a right use of appearances. But nothing
to me is the body, and nothing to me the parts of it.
Death ? Let it come when it will, either death of the
whole or of a part. Flee it! And whither? Can
26 EPICTETUS.
any man cast me out of the universe ? He cannot ;
but whithersoever I may go there will be the sun,
and the moon, and there the stars, and visions, and
omens, and communion with the Gods.5
5. And, furthermore, when he hath thus fashioned
himself, he will not be content with these things,
who is a Cynic indeed. But know that he is an
herald from God to men, declaring to them the truth
about good and evil things ; that they have erred, and
are seeking the reality of good and evil where it is not ;
and where it is, they do not consider ; and he is a spy,
like Diogenes, when he was led captive to Philip after
the battle of Chseronea.6 For the Cynic is, in truth, a
spy of the things that are friendly to men, and that
are hostile ; and having closely spied out all, he must
come back and declare the truth. And he must
neither be stricken with terror and report of enemies
where none are ; nor be in any otherwise confounded
or troubled by the appearances.
6. He must then be able, if so it chance, to go up im
passioned, as on the tragic stage, and speak that word
of Socrates, "O men, whither are ye borne away?
What do ye ? Miserable as ye are ! like blind men
ye wander up and down. Ye have left the true road,
and are going by a false; ye are seeking peace and
happiness where they are not, and if another shall
show you where they are, ye believe him not. Where
fore will ye seek it in outward things ? In the body ?
It is not there—and if ye believe me not, lo, Myro ! lo,
Ophellius.7 In possessions ? It is not there, and if ye
believe me not, lo, Croesus ! lo, the wealthy of our own
 THE CYNIC. 37
day, how full of mourning is their life ! In authority?
It is not there, else should those be happy who have
been twice or thrice consul ; yet they are not. Whom
shall we believe in this matter ? You, who look but
on these men from without, and are dazzled by the
appearance, or the men themselves ? And what say
they ? Hearken to them when they lament, when
they groan, when by reason of those consulships, and
their glory and renown, they hold their state the more
full of misery and danger ! In royalty ? It is not
there; else were Nero happy, and Sardanapalus ; but
not Agamemnon himself was happy, more splendid
though he was than Nero or Sardanapalus ; but while
the rest are snoring what is he doing ?
" He tore his rooted hair by handfula out."—II. x.

And what saith himself ? "I am distraught," he saith,

" and I am in anguish ; my heart leaps forth from my
bosom."—[II. x.] Miserable man ! which of thy con
cerns hath gone wrong with thee ? Thy wealth ?
Nay. Thy body ? Nay ; but thou art rich in gold and
bronze. What ails thee then ? That part, whatever it
be, with which we pursue, with which we avoid, with
which we desire and dislike, thou hast neglected and
corrupted. How hath it been neglected? He hath been
ignorant of the true Good for which it was born, and
of the Evil ; and of what is his own, and what is alien
to him. And when it goeth ill with something that is
alien to him, he saith, " Woe is me, for the Greeks are
in peril. O unhappy mind of thee ! of all things
alone neglected and untended. They will be slain by
28 EPICTETUS.
the Trojans and die ! And if the Trojans slay them
not, will they not still die ? Yea, but not all together.
What, then, doth it matter ? for if it be an evil to die,
it is alike evil to die together or to die one by
one. Shall anything else happen to them than the
parting of body and soul ? Nothing. And when the
Greeks have perished, is the door closed to thee ?
canst thou not also die ? / can. Wherefore, then,
dost thou lament : Woe is me, a king, and bearing the
sceptre of Zeus ? There is no unfortunate king, as
there is no unfortunate God. What, then, art thou ?
In very truth a shepherd ; for thou lamentest even as
shepherds do when a wolf hath snatched away one of
the sheep ; and sheep are they whom thou dost rule.
And why art thou come hither ? Was thy faculty of
pursuit in any peril, or of avoidance, or thy desire or
aversion ? Nay, he saith, but my brother's wife was
carried away. Was it not a great gain to be rid
of an adulterous wife ? Shall we be, then, despised of
the Trojans ? Of the Trojans ? Of what manner of
men ? of wise men or fools ? If of wise men, why do
ye make war with them 1 if of fools, why do ye heed
them Is
7. In what, then, is the good, seeing that in these
things it is not ? Tell us, thou, my lord missionary
and spy ! It is there where ye deem it not, and where
ye have no desire to seek it. For did ye desire, ye
would have found it in yourselves, nor would ye
wander to things without, nor pursue things alien, as
if they were your own concerns. Turn to your own
selves; understand the natural conceptions which ye
 THE CYNIC. 29
possess. What kind of thing do ye take the Good to
be 1 Peace 1 happiness t freedom ? Come, then, do ye
not naturally conceive it as great, as precious, and that
cannot be harmed ? What kind of material, then, will
ye take to shape peace and freedom withal —that
which is enslaved or in that which is free 1 That which
is free. Have ye the flesh enslaved or free ? We know
not. Know ye not that it is the slave of fever, of gout,
of ophthalmia, of dysentery, of tyranny, and fire, and
steel, and everything that is mightier than itself?
Yea, it is enslaved. How, then, can aught that is of
the body be free ? and how can that be great or
precious which by nature is dead, mere earth or
mud?
8. What then ? have ye nothing that is free 1
It may be nothing. And who can compel you to
assent to an appearance that is false ? No man.
And who can compel you not to assent to an
appearance that is true ? No man. Here, then, ye
see that there is in you something that is by nature
free. But which of you, except he lay hold of some
appearance of the profitable, or of the becoming, can
either pursue or avoid, or desire or dislike, or adapt or
intend anything ? Mo man. In these things too,
then, ye have something that is unhindered and free.
This, miserable men, must ye perfect ; this have a care
to, in this seek for the Good.
9. And how is it possible that one can live pros
perously who hath nothing ; a naked, homeless, hearth-
less, beggarly man, without servants, without a
country ? Lo, God hath sent you a man to show you
30 EPICTETUS.
in very deed that it is possible. " Behold me, that I
have neither country, nor house, nor possessions, nor
servants ; I sleep on the ground ; nor is a wife mine,
nor children, nor domicile, but only earth and heaven,
and a single cloak. And what is lacking to me ? do
ever I grieve ? do I fear ? am I not free ? When did
any of you see me fail of my pursuit, or meet with
what I had avoided ? When did I blame God or
man ? When did I accuse any man ? When did any
of you see me of a sullen countenance ? How do I
meet those whom ye fear and marvel at ? Do I not
treat them as my slaves ? Who that seeth me, but
thinketh he beholdeth his king and his lord 1
10. So these are the accents of the Cynic, this his
character, this his design. Not so—but it is his bag,
and his staff, and his great jaws ; and to devour all
that is given to him, or store it up, or to reprove out
of season everyone that he may meet, or to show off
his shoulder.9
11. Dost thou see how thou art about to take in
hand so great a matter ? Take first a mirror, look upon
thy shoulders, mark well thy loins and thighs. Thou
art about to enter thy name for the Olympic games,
0 man ; no cold and paltry contest. Nor canst thou
then be merely overcome and then depart ; but first
thou must be shamed in the sight of all the world ;
and not alone of the Athenians or Lacedaemonians, or
Nicopolitans. And then if thou hast too rashly
entered upon the contest, thou must be thrashed, and
before being thrashed must suffer thirst and scorching
heat, and swallow much dust.
 THE CYNIC. 31
12. Consider more closely, know thyself, question
thy genius,10 attempt nothing without God ; who, if
he counsel thee, be sure that he wills thee either to be
great or to be greatly plagued. For this very agree
able circumstance is linked with the calling of a
Cynic; he must be flogged like an ass, and, being
flogged, must love those who flog him, as though he
were the father or brother of all mankind. Not so,
but if one shall flog thee, stand in the midst and
shriek out, 0 Ccusar, what things do I suffer in the
Emperor'8 peace ! Let us take him before the pro
consul. But what is Caesar to the Cynic ? or what is
a pro-consul ? or what is any other than He that hath
sent him hither, and whom he serveth, which is Zeus ?
Doth he call upon any other than God ? Is he not
persuaded, whatsoever things he may suffer, that he is
being trained and exercised by God ? Hercules, when
he was exercised by Eurystheus, never deemed himself
wretched ; but fulfilled courageously all that was laid
upon him. But he who shall cry out and bear it hard
when he is being trained and exercised by Zeus, is he
worthy to bear the sceptre of Diogenes ? Hear what
Diogenes saith, when ill of a fever, to the bystanders :
Base souls, will ye not remain ? To see the overthrow
and combat of athletes, how great a way ye journey to
Olympia ; and have ye no will to see a combat between
a fever and a man ? And will such an one presently
accuse God who hath sent him, as having used him ill
—he who was glorying in his lot, and held himself
worthy to be a spectacle to the bystanders? For of
what shall he accuse Him : that his life is seemly, that
32 EPICTETUS.
he manifests God's will, that he showeth forth his
virtue more brightly? Come, then; and what saith
he about death, about pain? How did he compare
his own happiness with that of the Great King ? nay,
he thought rather that there was no comparison. For
where there are confusions, and griefs, and fears, and
unattained pursuits, and avoidance in vain, and envy
and rivalry, can the way to happiness lie there 1 But
where rotten opinions are there must of necessity be
all these things.
13. And the young man having asked whether one
that hath fallen ill shall obey, if a friend desire that
he will go home with him and be tended : Where, he
said, will you show me the friend of a Cynic ? For he
himself must be even such another, so as to be worthy
to be reckoned his friend. A sharer in the sceptre
and the royalty must he be, and a worthy servant, if
he will be worthy of his friendship, as Diogenes was
of Antisthenes and Crates of Diogenes. Or seems it
so to thee that whosoever shall come to him- and bid
him hail is his friend? and that he will think him
worthy that a Cynic shall go to his house 1 Thus, if
it please thee to be a Cynic, bethink thee rather of such
& thing as this, and cast about for a dainty dungheap
whereon to have thy fever ; and see that it look
away from the north, so that thou be not chilled.
But thou seemest to me to wish to retreat into some
body's house and spend thy time there, and be fed.
What hast thou to do with undertaking so great a
matter ?
14. But marriage, said he, and the begetting of
 THE CYNIC. 33
children,—are these to be received by the Cynic among
his chief purposes f
Give me, said Epictetus, a city of wise men, and
perhaps no one will easily come to the Cynic way :
for whose sake should he embrace it? However, if
we do suppose such a thing, there is nothing to hinder
his marrying and begetting children ; for his wife will
be even such another, and his father-in-law such
another, and thus will his children be brought up.
But things being as they now are, as it were in order
of battle, must not the Cynic be given wholly and
undistracted to the service of God, being able to go
about among men, and not bound to private duties,
nor entangled in ties which, if he transgress, he can no
longer preserve the aspect of honesty and goodness ;
and if he obey them, he hath lost that of the missionary,
the spy, the herald of the Gods 1 For see ! he must
needs observe a certain conduct towards his father-in-
law, and he hath somewhat to render also to the rest of
his wife's kin and to his wife herself. And for the rest,
he is shut off from Cynicism by the care for sickness, or
means of livelihood. For one thing alone, he must
have a vessel for warming water for his little child,
where he may wash it in the bath ; and wool for his
wife when she has been delivered, and oil, and a couch,
and a drinking cup—already a number of utensils
—and other affairs and distractions. Where shall I
thenceforth find that king, whose whole business is
the common weal ?

" Warden of men, and with so many cares."—(II. ii., 25),

539
34 EPICTETUS.
on whom it lies to oversee all men, the married, and
parents, and who useth his wife well, and who ill, and
who wrangles, and what household is well-ordered,
and what not ; going about as a physician, and feeling
pulses—" thou hast a fever, thou a headache, thou the
gout; do thou fast, do thou eat, do thou avoid the
bath, thou needest the knife, thou the cautery?"
Where is the place for leisure to one who is bound to
private duties ? Must he not provide raiment for his
children ? yea, and send them to the schoolmaster
with their tablets and writing instruments ? and have
a bed ready for them, since a man cannot be a Cynic
from the womb ? Else were it better to cast them away
at once than kill them in this way. See, now, to what
we have brought our Cynic—how we have taken
away his kingship from him ! True, but Grates
married. Thou speakest of a circumstance that
arose from love, and adducest a wife who was
another Crates.11 But our inquiry is concerning
common marriages, and how men may be undis-
tracted ; and thus inquiring, we do not find it, in this
condition of the world, a purpose of chief concern for
a Cynic.
15. How, then, said he, shall he still be preserving
the community ? God help thee ! Whether do they
best serve mankind who fill their own place by
bringing: into the world two or three screaming
children, or those who, as far they may, oversee all
men, what they do, how they live, wherewith they
concern themselves, and what duties they neglect ?
And were the Thebans more benefited by as many as
 THE CYNIC. 35
left their little children behind, or by Epaminondas,
who died childless ? And did Priam, who begat fifty
good-for-nothing sons, or Danaus, or Mollis,12 better
serve the community than Homer ? Shall, then, the
command of an army or the writing of poems with
draw a man from marriage and fatherhood, and he
shall not be thought to have gained nothing for his
childlessness, but the kingship of a Cynic shall be
not worth what it costs ? It may be we do not per
ceive his greatness, nor do we worthily conceive of the
character of Diogenes ; but we turn away our eyes
to the present Cynics, " watch-dogs of the dining-
room,13 who in nothing resemble those others, save
perchance in breaking wind ; but in no other thing.
For else these things would not have moved us, nor
should we have marvelled if a Cynic will not marry
nor beget children. Man ! he hath begotten all man
kind, he hath all men for his sons, all women for hie
daughters ; so doth he visit all and care for all.
Thinkest thou that he is a mere meddler and busy
body in rebuking those whom he meets ? As a father
he doth it, as a brother, a ad as servant of the
Universal Father, which is God.
16. If it please thee, ask of me also whether he shall
have to do with affairs of public polity % Fool ! dost
thou seek a greater polity than that in whose affairs
he is already concerned ? Will it be greater if he
come forward among the Athenians to say something
about ways or means—he, whose part it is to dis
course with all men, Athenians, Corinthians, Eomans
alike, not concerning means or ways, nor concerning
36 EPICTETUS.
peace or war, but about happiness and unhappiness,
about good-fortune and ill-fortune, about slavery and
freedom ? And of a man that hath his part in so great
a polity will you ask me if he shall attend to public
affairs ? Ask me also if he shall be a ruler ; and again
I shall say, Thou fool, what rule can be greater than
his?
17. And to such a man there is need also of a
certain kind of body. For if he shall appear consump
tive, meagre, and pale, his witness hath not the same
emphasis. Not only by showing forth the things of
the spirit must he convince foolish men that it is
possible, without the things that are admired of them,
to be good and wise, but also in his body must he
show that plain and simple and open-air living are not
mischievous even to the body : " Behold, even of this
I am a witness, I and my body." So Diogenes was
wont to do, for he went about radiant with health,
and with his very body he turned many to good.
But a Cynic that men pity seems to be a beggar—all
men turn away from him, all stumble at him. For he
must not appear squalid; so that neither in this
respect shall he scare men away ; but his very austerity
should be cleanly and pleasing.
18. Much grace of body, then, must belong to the
Cynic, and also quickness of mind, else he is a mere
clot of slime and nothing else ; for he must be ready
and apt to meet all that may befall him. Thus when
one said to Diogenes : Thou art that Diogenes who
thinkest there are no Gods, he replied, And how may that
be, seeing I hold thee hateful to the Gods ? And again,
 THE CYNIC. 37
when Alexander stood beside him, as he was lying
asleep, and said :

"Not all night mast a man of counsel sleep,"

he answered, ere he was yet awake :

"Warden of men, and with so many cares.""

19. But before all things must his ruling faculty be

purer than the sun, else he must needs be a
gambler and cheater, who, being himself entangled
in some iniquity, will reprove others. For, see how
the matter stands : to these kings and tyrants, their
spearmen and their arms give the office of reproving
men, and the power to punish transgressors, yea,
though they themselves be evil ; but to the Cynic,
instead of arms and spearmen, his conscience giveth
this power. When he knows that he has watched
and laboured for men, and lain down to sleep in
purity, and sleep hath left him yet purer ; and that
his thoughts have been the thoughts of one dear to
the Gods, of a servant, and a sharer in the rule of
Zeus ; and he hath had ever at hand that
" Lead me, 0 Zeus, and thou Destiny,a
and,
" If thus it he pleasing to the Gods, so may it be "—
wherefore, then, shall he not take heart to speak
boldly to his brothers, to his children, in a word, to
all his kin ? For this reason, he that in this state
is no meddler or busybody, for when he overlooks
human affairs he meddles not with foreign matters,
38 EPICTETUS.
but with his own affairs. Else, name the general a
busybody when he overlooks his soldiers, and reviews
them, and watches them, and punishes the disorderly.
But if you have a flat cake under your cloak while
you reprove others, I say, get hence rather into a
corner, and eat what thou hast stolen—what are other
men's concerns to thee ? For what art thou—the bull
of the herd ? or the queen bee ? Show me the
tokens of thy supremacy, such as nature hath given her.
But if thou art a drone claiming sovereignty over the
bees, thinkest thou not that thy fellow-citizens will
overthrow thee, as bees do the drones ?
20. And truly the Cynic must be so long-suffering
as that he shall seem to the multitude insensate
and a stone. Him doth none revile, nor smite,
nor insult ; but his body hath he given to any
man to use at will. For he remembers that the worse
must needs be vanquished by the better, wherein
soever it is the worse ; and the body is worse than
the multitude—the weaker than the stronger. Never,
then, doth he go down to any contest where it is
possible for him to be vanquished, but he yields up all
that is not his own, and contends for nothing that is
subject to others. But where there is question of
the will and the use of appearances, then you shall
see how many eyes he hath, so that you may say
that compared with him Argus was blind. Is his
assent ever hasty ; or his desire idle ; or his pursuit
in vain; or his avoidance unsuccessful; or his aim
unfulfilled ? doth he ever blame, or cringe, or envy ?
This is his great study and his design ; but as regards
 THE CYNIC. 39
all other things, he lies on his back and snores, for all
is peace. There is no thief of his will, nor tyrant ;
but of his body ? yea ; and of his chattels ? yea,
and also of his authority and his honours. What, then,
are these things to him ? So when one may seek to
make him afraid on account of them,—Go hence, he
saith to him, and find out little children; it is to
these that masks are dreadful, but I know they are
made of clay, and that inside them there is nothing.
21. On such a matter art thou now meditating.
Therefore, if it please thee, in God's name delay it yet
awhile, and see first what ability thou hast for it.
For mark what Hector speaks to Andromache : Go, he
saith, rather into the house and weave—
" For war's the care
Of every man, and more than all of me."
—//. vi. 490.

Thus he knew where lay his own ability and her

incapacity.

End of Book I.
 BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.

ON GENUINE AND BORROWED BELIEFS.

1. The master-argument seems to start from propo

sitions such as these:1 There being a mutual con
tradiction among these three propositions—(1) " Every
past event is necessarily true," and (2) "An impos
sibility cannot follow a possibility," and (3) " Things
are possible which neither are nor will be true,"
Diodorus, perceiving this contradiction, made use of the
force of the first two in order to prove that nothing is
possible which neither is nor will be true. And, again,
one will hold these two, (3) that a thing is possible
which neither is nor will be true, and (2) that an
impossibility cannot follow from a possibility ; but by
no means that every past thing is necessarily true, and
thus those of the school of Cleanthes appear to think,
whom Antipater strongly defended. But some hold
the other two, (3) that a thing is possible that neither
is nor will be true, and (1) that every past event is
necessarily true ; but maintain that an impossibility
may follow from a possibility. But all three it is

'

.
 GENUINE AND BORROWED BELIEFS. 41
impossible to hold at once, because of their mutual
contradiction.
2. Now, if anyone inquire of me, And which
of these dost thou hold? I shall answer him that
I do not know, but I have received this account,
that Diodorus holds certain of them, and I think
the followers of Panthoides and Cleanthes certain
others, and those of Chrysippus yet others. And
thyself? Nay, it is no affair of mine to try my
own thoughts, and to compare and estimate state
ments, and to form some opinion of my own upon
the matter.2 And thus I differ no whit from the
grammarians. Who was Hector's father? Priam.
And his brothers ? Alexander and Deiphobus. And
their mother, who was she ? Hecuba. That is the
account I have received. From whom? From
Homer ; and I think Hellanicus has written of them,
and maybe others too. And I ; what better have I to
say about the master argument ? But if I am a vain
man, and especially at a banquet, I shall amaze all the
company by recounting those who have written on
it ;—for Chrysippus wrote on it wonderfully in his
first book " On Possibilities ; " and Cleanthes wrote a
separate treatise on it, and so did Archedemus. And
Antipater wrote too, not only in his book, " On Possi
bilities," but also separately in those on the master
argument. Have you not read the work ? No ! Then
read it. And what good will it do him to read it?
He will become yet more of a babbler and a nuisance
than he is now, for what else hath the reading of it
done for you ? What opinion have you formed for
42 EPICTETUS.

yourself on the matter ? Nay, but you will tell us

all about Helen, and Priam, and the island of Calypso,
that never existed, nor ever will.
3. And in Homer, indeed, it is no great matter if
you have simply mastered the account, and formed no
opinion of your own. But in ethics this is even much
more often the case than in other matters. Tell me
concerning good and evil things 1 Listen to him
then—
" Me to Ciconia brought the wind from Troy."8—Od. ix. 39.

Of things some are good, some evil, and some indifferent.

Now the good things are the virtues, and those that have
the nature of virtue, and the evil things the vices, and
those that have the nature of vice ; and the indifferent
things are between these, as wealth, health, life, death,
pleasure, affliction. And how do you know this?
Because Hellanicus affirms it in his history of the
Egyptians ; for as well say this as that Diogenes has
it in his Ethics, or Ohrysippus, or Oleanthes. But
have you tested any of their sayings, and formed an
opinion for yourself? Show me how you are wont
to bear a storm at sea. Do you remember the dif
ference between good and evil when the sail clatters,
and some vexatious man comes to you as you are
shrieking, and says—
" Tell me, by the gods, what you were lately
saying, Is it any vice to be shipwrecked? Hath it
anything of the nature of vice ? "
Would you not lay hold of a stick and shake it in
his face : Let us alone, man ; we are perishing, and
 GENUINE AND BORROWED BELIEFS. 43
you come to mode us ! And do you remember the
difference if you are accused of something and Caesar
sends for you ? If one should come to you when you
enter, pale and trembling, and should say, " Why do you
tremble, man ? what is your business concerned with ?
Doth Caesar there within dispense virtue and vice to
those who go in to him ? Why, you will say ; must
you too mock me in my calamities ?
" Nevertheless, tell me, O Philosopher, why you
tremble—is it not merely death that you are in
danger of, or imprisonment, or bodily suffering, or
exile, or disgrace ? What else ? Is it any vice ? or
anything of the nature of vice ? "
And you will reply somewhat to this effect : Let
me alone, man ; my own evils are enough for me.
And truly you say well, for your own evils are
enough for you ; which are meanness, cowardice, and
your false pretences when you sat in the school of
philosophy. Why did you deck yourself in others'
glory ? Why did you call yourself a Stoic ?
4. Watch yourselves thus in the things that ye do,
and ye shall see of what school ye are. And the
most of you will be found Epicureans, but some few
Peripatetics,4 and those but slack. For where is the
proof that ye hold virtue equal to all other things, or
indeed superior ? Show me a Stoic, if ye have one.
Where or how can ye ? But persons that repeat the
phrases of Stoicism, of these ye can show us any
number. And do they repeat those of the Epicureans
any worse ? and are they not equally accurate in the
Peripatetic ? Who is, then, a Stoic ? As we say that
44 EPICTETUS.
a statue is Pheidian which is wrought according to the
art of Pheidias, show me a man that is so wrought
according to the opinions he utters 1 Show me one
that is sick and yet prosperous, in peril and pros
perous, dying and prosperous, in exile and prosperous,
in evil repute and prosperous Show him to me ! by
the Gods ! fain would I see a Stoic ! And have ye
none that is fully wrought out; then show me at least
one that is in hand to be wrought—one that even
leaneth towards these things. Do me this favour—
grudge not an old man a sight that I have never
seen yet. Think ye that I would have you show me
the Zeus of Pheidias or the Athene—a work all ivory
and gold ? Nay ; but let one show me a man's soul
that longs to be like-minded with God, and to blame
neither Gods nor men, and not to fail in any effort or
avoidance, and not to be wrathful nor envious, nor
jealous, but—for why should I make rounds to say it ?
—that desires to become a God from a man, and in
this body of ours, this corpse, is mindful of his fellow
ship with Zeus. Show me that man. But ye cannot !
Why, then, will ye mock yourselves and cheat others ?
Why wrap yourselves in others' garb, and go about,
like thieves that steal clothes from the bath, with
names and things that in nowise belong to you ?
5. And now I am your teacher and ye are being
taught by me. And I have this aim—to perfect you,
that ye be unhindered, uncompelled, unembarrassed,
free, prosperous, happy, looking unto God alone in all
things great and small. And ye are "here to learn
these things, and to do them. And wherefore do ye
 THE GAME OF LIFE. 4S
not finish the work, if ye have indeed such an aim as
behoves you, and if I, besides the aim, have such
ability as behoves me ? What is here lacking ? When
I see a carpenter, and the wood lying beside him, I
look for some work. And now, here is the carpenter,
here is the wood—what is yet lacking ? Is the thing
such as cannot be taught ? It can. Is it, then, not in
our power ? Yea, this alone of all things is. Wealth
is not in our power, nor health, nor repute, nor any
other thing, save only the right use of appearances.
This alone is by nature unhindered ; this alone is
unembarrassed. Wherefore, then, will ye not make
an end ? Tell me the reason. For either the fault
lies in me, or in you, or in the nature of the thing.
But the thing itself is possible, and indeed the only
thing that is in our power. It remains that I am to
blame, or else ye are ; or, to speak more truly, both of
us. What will ye, then ? Let us at length begin to
entertain such a purpose among us, and let the past
be past. Only let us make a beginning : trust in me,
and ye shall see.

CHAPTER II.

THE GAME OF LIFE.

1. This above all is the task of Nature—to bind

and harmonise together the force of the appearances
of the Right and of the Useful.
2. Things are indifferent, but the uses of them are
46 EPICTETUS.
not indifferent. How, then, shall one preserve at once
both a steadfast and tranquil mind, and also care
fulness of things, that he be not heedless or slovenly ?
If he take example of dice players. The numbers
are indifferent, the dice are indifferent. How can I
tell what may be thrown up ? But carefully and
skilfully to make use of what is thrown, that is
where my proper business begins. And this is the
great task of life also, to discern things and divide them,
and say, " Outward things are not in my power ; to
will is in my power. Where shall I seek the Good,
and where the Evil ? Within me—in all that is my
own" But of all that is alien to thee call nothing
good nor evil nor profitable nor hurtful, nor any such
term as these.
3. What then ? should we be careless of such
things ? In no wise. For this, again, is a vice in the
Will, and thus contrary to Nature. But be at once
careful, because the use of things is not indifferent,
and steadfast and tranquil because the things them
selves are. For where there is aught that concerns
me, there none can hinder or compel me ; and in
those things where I am hindered or compelled the
attainment is not in my power, and is neither good nor
evil ; but my use of the event is either evil or good,
and this is in my power. And hard it is, indeed, to
mingle and reconcile together the carefulness of one
whom outward things affect, with the steadfastness of
him who regards them not. But impossible it is not;
and if it is, it is impossible to be happy.
4. Give me one man that cares how he shall do
 THE GAME OF LIFE. 47
anything—that thinks not of the gaining of the thing,
but thinks of his own energy.
5. Chrysippus, therefore, said well—"As long as
future things are hidden from me, I hold always by
whatever state is the most favourable for gaining the
things that are according to Nature ; for God himself
gave it to me to make such choice. But if I knew
that it were now ordained for me to be sick, I would
even move to it of myself. For the foot, too, if it had
intelligence, would move of itself to be mired.
6. For to what end, think you, are ears of corn
produced ? Is it not that they may become dry and
parched ? And the reason they are parched, is it not
that they may be reaped ? for it is not to exist for
themselves alone that they come into the world. If,
then, they had perception, would it be proper for
them to pray that they should never be reaped ? since
never to be reaped is for ears of corn a curse. So
understand that for men it is a curse not to die, just
as not to be ripened and not to be reaped. But we,
since we are both the things to be reaped and are also
conscious that we shall be reaped, have indignation
thereat. For we know not what we are, nor have we
studied what concerns humanity, as those that have
the care of horses study what concerns them. But
Chrysantas, when just about to smite the enemy,
forbore on hearing the trumpet sounding his recall;
so much better did it seem to him to obey the
commander's order than to do his own will. But of
us not one will follow with docility the summons even
of necessity, but weeping and groaning the things that
48 EPICTETUS.
we suffer, we suffer, calling them our doom.1 What
doom, man ? If by doom you mean that which is
doomed to happen to us, then we are doomed in all
things. But if only our afflictions are to be called
doom, then what affliction is it that that which has
come into being should perish ? But we perish by the
sword, or the wheel, or the sea, or the tile of a roof, or
a tyrant. What matters it by what road thou goest
down into Hades ? they are all equal. But if thou wilt
hear the truth, the way the tyrant sends thee is the
shortest. Never did any tyrant cut a man's throat in
six months, but a fever will often be a year killing
him. All these things are but noise, and a clatter of
empty names.
7. But let us do as in setting out on a voyage.
What is it possible for me to do ? This—to choose
the captain, crew, the day, the opportunity. Then a
tempest has burst upon us ; but what doth it concern
me ? I have left nothing undone that was mine to
do ; the problem is now another's, to wit, the captain's.
But now the ship is sinking ! and what have I to do ?
I do only what I am able—drown without terror and
screaming and accusing of God, but knowing that that
which has come into being must also perish. For I
am no Immortal, but a man, a part of the sum of
things as an hour is of the day. Like the hour I must
arrive, and, like the hour, pass away. What, then, can
it matter to me how I pass away—whether by drown
ing or by a fever ? for pass I must, even by some such
thing. Now, this is what you shall see done by
skilful ball-players. None careth for the ball as it
 THE GAME OF LIFE. 49
were a thing good or bad ; but only about throwing
it and catching it. In this, then, there is rule, in this
art, quickness, judgment ; so that I may fail of
catching the ball, even if I spread out my lap, and
another, if I throw it, may catch it. But if I am
anxious and nervous as I catch and throw, what kind
of play is this ? how shall one be steady ? how shall
he observe the order of the game ? One will call
" Throw," " Do not throw," and another, " Tou have
thrown once." But this is strife and not play.
8. Thus Socrates knew how to play ball. How ?
When he jested in the court of justice. " Tell me,
Anytus," he said, " how say you that I believe there is
no God ? The Daemons, who are they, think you ? Are
they not sons of God, or a mixed nature between Gods
and men ? " And when this was admitted—" Who,
do you think, can hold that mules exist, but not
asses ? "2 And thus he played with the ball. And
what was the ball that was there thrown about
among them ? Life, chains, exile, a draught of
poison, to be torn from a wife, to leave children
orphans. These were the things among them that
they played withal ; yet none the less did he play, and
flung the ball with proper grace and measure. And
so should we do also, having the carefulness of the
most zealous players, and yet indifference, as were it
merely about a ball.

540
So EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER III.

THINGS ARE WHAT THEY ARE.

1. Each thing that allures the mind, or offers an

advantage, or is loved by you, remember to speak of
it as it is, from the smallest things upward. If you
love an earthen jar, then think, I love an earthen jar,
for so shall you not be troubled when it breaks. And
when you kiss your little child, or wife, think, I hiss a
mortal ; and so shall you not be troubled when they
die.
2. When you are about to take in hand some action,
bethink you what it is that you are about to do. If
you go to the bath, represent to yourself all that
takes place there—the squirting of water, the slapping,
the scolding, the pilfering; and then shall you take
the matter in hand more safely, saying straightway :
I desire to be bathed, and maintain my purpose
according to Nature. And even so with each and
every action. For thus, if aught should occur to cross
you in your bathing, this thought shall be straight
way at hand: But not this alone did I desire; but
also to maintain my purpose according to Nature.
And I shall not maintain it if I have indignation at
what happens here.
3. The first difference between the vulgar man1 and
the philosopher : The one saith, Woe is me for my
child, my brother, woe for my father ; but the other,
if ever he shall be compelled to say, Woe is me, checks
 THINGS ARE WHAT THEY ARE. 51
himself and saith, for myself. For nothing that the
Will willeth not can hinder or hurt the Will, but itself
only can hurt itself. If then, indeed, we too incline to
this, that when we are afflicted we accuse ourselves,
and recollect that nothing else than Opinion can cause
us any trouble or unsettlement, I swear by all the Gods
we have advanced ! But as it is, we have from the
beginning travelled a different road. While we are
still children, if haply we stumbled as we were gaping
about, the nurse did not chide us, but beat the stone.
For what had the stone done ? Ought it to have moved
out of the way, for your child's folly ? Again, if we
find nothing to eat after coming from the bath, never
doth the tutor check our desire, but he beats the cook.
Man, we did not set thee to be a tutor of the cook, but
of our child—him shall you train, him improve. And
thus, even when full-grown, we appear as children.
For a child in music is he who hath not learned music,
and in letters, one who hath not learned letters, and in
life, one undisciplined in philosophy.
4. It is not things, but the opinions about the
things, that trouble mankind. Thus Death is nothing
terrible ; if it were so, it would have appeared so to
Socrates. But the opinion we have about Death, that
it is terrible, that is wherein the terror lieth. When,
therefore, we are hindered or troubled or grieved,
never let us blame any other than ourselves ; that is to
say, our opinions. A man undisciplined in philosophy
blames others in matters in which he fares ill ; one
who begins to be disciplined blames himself, one who is
disciplined, neither others nor himself.
 52 EPICTETUS.
5. Be not elated in mind at any superiority that is
not of yourself. If your horse were elated and
should say, I am beautiful, that would be tolerable.
But when you are elated and say, / have a beautiful
horse, know that it is at an excellence in your horse
that you are elated. What, then, is your own ? This
—to make use of the appearances. So that when
you deal according to Nature in the use of appear
ances, then shall you be elated, for you will then be
elated at an excellence that is your own.

CHAPTER IV.

THREE STEPS TO PERFECTION.

1. There are three divisions of Philosophy wherein

a man must exercise himself who would be wise and
good.1
The first concerns his pursuit and avoidance, so that
he may not fail of aught that he would attain, nor
fall into aught that he would avoid.
The second concerns his desires and aversions,
and, generally, all that it becomes a man to be, so
that he bear himself orderly and prudently and not
heedlessly.
The third is that which concerns security from
delusion and hasty apprehension, and, generally, the
assenting to appearances.
Of these the chief and most urgent is that which

)
 THREE STEPS TO PERFECTION. 53
hath to do with the passions,2 for the passions arise
in no other way than by our failing in endeavour to
attain or to avoid something. This it is which brings
in troubles and tumults and ill-luck and misfortune,
that is the cause of griefs and lamentations and
envies, that makes envious and jealous men ; by which
things we become unable even to hear the doctrines
of reason.
The second concerns that which is becoming to a
man ; for I must not be passionless,8 like a statue,
but maintain all relations natural and acquired, as a
religious being, as a son, as a brother, as a father, as
a citizen.
The third is that which concerns men as soon as
they are making advance in philosophy, which pro
vides for the security of the two others; so that not
even in dreams may any appearance that approacheth
us pass untested, nor in wine, nor in ill-humours.
This, a man may say, is beyond us. But the
philosophers of this day, passing by the first and
second parts of philosophy, occupy themselves in the
third, cavilling, and arguing by questions, and
constructing hypotheses and fallacies. For, they
say, when dealing with these subjects a man must
guard himself from delusion. Who must ? The wise
and good man.
2. And this security is all you lack, then ; the rest
you have wrought out already ? You are not to be
imposed upon by money ? and if you see a fair girl
you can hold out against the appearance ? and if
your neighbour inherits a legacy you are not envious ?

r
54 EPICTETUS.
there is now, in short, nothing lacking to you except
to confirm what you have ? Wretch ! these very
things dost thou hear in fear and anxiety lest some
one may despise thee, and inquiring what men say
about thee. And if someone come and tell you that
when it was discussed who was the best of the
philosophers, one present said, Such a one is the
greatest philosopher, your little soul will grow up from
a finger's breadth to two cubits. And if another who
was present said, Nothing of the kind; it is not worth
while to listen to him ; for what does he know ? he has
made a beginning in philosophy and no more, you are
amazed, you grow pale, and straightway you cry out,
/ will show him whom I am, that I am a great
philosopher.
Out of these very things it is seen what you are ;
why do you desire to show it by any others ?

CHAPTER Y.

THAT A MAN MAY BE BOTH BOLD AND FEARFUL.

1. To some it may perchance seem a paradox, this

axiom of the philosophers ; yet let us make the best
inquiry we can if it be true that it is possible to do
all things at once with fearfulness and with boldness.
For fearfulness seemeth in a manner contrary to
boldness, and contraries can never coexist. But that
which to many seemeth a paradox in this matter
 MAN BOTFI BOLD AND FEARFUL. 55
seems to me to stand somehow thus : If we affirmed
that both fearfulness and boldness could be used in
the very same things, they would justly accuse us
that we were reconciling what is irreconcilable. But
now, what is there so strange in this saying ? For if
it is sound, what hath been so often both affirmed and
demonstrated, that the essence of the Good is in the
use of appearances, and even so of the Evil, and things
uncontrollable by the Will have the nature neither of
good nor of evil, what paradox do the philosophers
affirm if they say that in things uncontrollable by
the Will, then be boldness thy part, and in things
subject to the Will, fearfulness. For if Evil lie in an
evil Will, then in these things alone is it right to use
fearfulness. And if things uncontrollable by the Will,
and that are not in our power, are nothing to us, then
in these things we should use boldness. And thus
shall we be at one time both fearful and bold—yea,
and bold even through our fearfulness. For through
being fearful in things that are veritably evil it
comes that we shall be bold in those that are not
so.
2. But we, on the contrary, fall victims as deer do.
When these are terrified and fly from the scares,
whither do they turn and to what do they retreat as
a refuge 1 To the nets : and thus they perish, con
fusing things to fear and things to be bold about.
And thus do we also. Where do we employ fear?
In things beyond our Will. And wherein do we act
boldly, as were there nothing to dread? In things
subject to the Will. To be beguiled, then, or to be
56 EPICTETUS.
rash, or to do some shameless act, or with base greed
to pursue some object—these things concern us no
whit if we may only hit the mark in things beyond
the Will. But where death is, or exile, or suffering, or
evil repute, there we run away, there we are scared.
Therefore, as it were to be looked for in those who
are astray in the things of greatest moment, we work
out our natural boldness into swaggering, abandon
ment, rashness, shamelessness ; and our natural
tearfulness and shamefastness into cowardice and
meanness, full of terror and trouble. For if one
should transfer his fearfulness to the realm of the
Will, and the works thereof, straightway, together
with the intention of fearing to do wrong he shall
have it in his power to avoid doing it ; but if he use
it in things out of our own power and beyond the
Will, then striving to avoid things that are in others'
power he shall of necessity be terrified and unsettled
and troubled. For death is not fearful, nor pain,
but the fear of pain or death. And thus we praise
him1 who said :
" Fear not to die, but fear a coward's death."

3. It is right, then, that we should turn our bold

ness against death, and our fearfulness against
the fear of death. But now we do the contrary:
death we flee from, but as to the state of our
opinion about death we are negligent, heedless, in
different. These things Socrates did well to call bug
bears. For as to children, through their inexperience,
ugly masks appear terrible and fearful ; so we are
 MAN BOTH BOLD AND FEARFUL. 57
somewhat in the same way moved towards the affairs
of life, for no other cause than as children are affected
by these bugbears. For what is a child ? Ignorance.
What is a child ? That which has never learned.
For when he knows these things he is nowise
inferior to us. What is death ? A bugbear. Turn
it round; examine it: see, it does not bite. Now
or later that which is body must be parted from
that which is spirit, as formerly it was parted.
Why, then, hast thou indignation if it be now ? for if
it be not now, it will be later. And wherefore ? That
the cycle of the world may be fulfilled ; for it hath
need of a present and of a future and of a past.
What is pain 1 A bugbear. Turn it about and examine
it. This poor body is moved harshly, then again
softly. If thou hast no advantage thereof, the door
is open ;2 if thou hast, then bear it. For in all events
it is right that the door should stand open, and so
have we no distress.
4. Shall I, then, exist no longer ? Nay, thou shalt
exist, but as something else, whereof the universe
hath now need.8 For neither didst thou choose thine
own time to come into existence, but when the
universe had need of thee.
6. What, then, is the fruit of these opinions ? That
which ought to be the fairest and comeliest to those
who have been truly taught,—tranquillity, courage,
and freedom. For concerning these things, the mul
titude are not to be believed which say that those
only should be taught who are freemen, but the
philosophers rather, which say that those only are
 58 EPICTETUS.
free who have been taught. How is this ? It is
thus—Is freedom anything else than the power to
live as we choose ? Nothing else. Do ye choose, then,
to live in sin 1 We do not choose it. None, therefore,
that fears or grieves or is anxious is free ; but who
soever is released from griefs and fears and anxieties
is by that very thing released from slavery. How,
then, shall we still believe you, most excellent legis
lators, when ye say, " We permit none to be taught,
save freemen ? "* for the philosophers say, " We permit
none to be free save those who have been taught ''—
that is, God permits it not. So, when a man turns
round his slave before the Praetor-' has he done nothing?
He has done something. And what ? He has turned
round his slave before the Prator. Nothing else at
all ? Yea, this too—he must pay for him the tax of
the twentieth. What then ? has the man thus treated
not gained his freedom 1 No more than he has gained
tranquillity of mind. For thou, who art able to emanci
pate others, hast thou no master 1 is money not thy
master, or lust, or a tyrant, or some friend of a tyrant 1
Why, then, dost thou tremble when thou art to meet
with some affliction in this kind ? And therefore I
say oftentimes, be these things your study, be these
things ever at your hand, wherein ye should be bold
and wherein fearful ; bold in things beyond the Will,
fearful in things subject to the Will.

,
 THE WISE MAN'S FEAR. 59

CHAPTER VI.1

THE WISE MAN'S FEAR AND THE FOOL'S.

1. The appearances by which the mind of man is

smitten with the first aspect of a thing as it ap
proaches the soul, are not matters of the will, nor can
we control them ; but by a certain force of their own
the objects which we have to comprehend are borne in
upon us. But that ratification of them, which we
name assent, whereby the appearances are compre
hended and judged, these are voluntary, and are done
by human choice. Wherefore at a sound from the
heavens, or from the downfall of something, or some
signal of danger, or anything else of this kind, it must
needs be that the soul of the philosopher too shall be
somewhat moved, and he shall shrink and grow pale ;
not through any opinion of evil that he has formed,
but through certain rapid and unconsidered motions
that forestal the office of the mind and reason. Soon,
however, that philosopher doth not approve the
appearances to be truly objects of terror to his soul,—
that is to say, he assents not to them nor ratifies them ;
but he rejects them, and casts them out ; nor doth there
seem to be in them anything that he should fear.
But in this, say the philosophers, doth the wise man
differ from the fool,—that the fool thinks the appear
ances to be in truth even so harsh and rough as they
seemed at their first shock upon the soul ; and taking
them, as at first, to be rightly dreaded, he thus ratifies
60 EPICTETUS.

and approves them by his assent. The philosopher,

however, though for a short time his colour and
countenance have been changed, doth not then assent,
but he retains in its steadfastness and vigour the
opinion he ever had of these appearances, that they
are in no wise to be feared, but affright only by a
false show and empty threat.
2. Such as is a dish of water, such is the soul ; such
as is the ray of light that falleth on the same, such
are the appearances. When the water is moved, then
the ray seemeth also to be moved ; but it is not moved.
And thus when a man's mind is darkened and dizzy,
it is not doctrines and virtues that are confounded,
but the spirit on which they are impressed. And if
that is restored, so are they.2

CHAPTER VII.

ArPEAEANCES FALSE AND TRUE.

1. Appearances exist for us in four ways. Either

things appear even as they are ; or having no
existence, neither do they appear to have it ; or they
exist, and appear not ; or they exist not, and yet
appear. So, in all these cases, to hit the mark is the
work of him who hath been taught in philosophy.
2. But whatever it be that afflicts us, it is to that
thing that the remedy is to be applied. If it is the
 APPEARANCES FALSE AND TRUE. 61
sophisms of the Pyrrhonists and Academics1 that
afflict us, to them let us apply the remedy. If it is the
delusiveness of things, whereby that appeareth to be
good which is not so, let us to that seek for the remedy.
If a habit afflicts us, against that must we endeavour
to find some remedy. And what remedy is to be
found against a habit? The contrary habit. Thou
hearest the ignorant when they say, The wretched,
man is dead ; his father is perishing with grief for
him, or his mother ; he was cut off, yea, and untimely,
and in a strange land. Hearken, then, to the contrary
words. Tear thyself away from such utterances.
Against habit set the contrary habit. Against the
words of the Sophists have the maxims of philo
sophers and the exercise and constant usage of them ;
against the delusiveness of things have clear natural
conceptions ever burnished and ready.
3. Whenever death may appear to be an evil, have
ready the thought that it is right to avoid evils, and
that death is unavoidable. For what shall I do?
whither shall I flee from it ? Let it be granted that
I am no Sarpedon, son of Zeus, to speak in that lofty
style : I go, either to do great deeds myself, or to give
another the chance of doing them; though I myselffail
I shall not grudge it to another to do nobly.2 Let it be
granted that this is above us ; still can we not at least
rise to the height of that ? And whither shall I flee
from death ? declare to me the place ; declare to me
the men among whom I shall go, to whom death
comes never near ; declare to me the charms against
it. If I have none, what would ye have me do ? I
 62 EPICTETUS.
cannot escape death—shall I not then escape the fear
of death 1 shall I die lamenting and trembling ? In
this is the source of suffering, to wish for something,
and that it should not come to pass ; and thence it is
that when I am able to alter outward things at my
desire, I do so, but when not, I am ready to tear out
the eyes of him that hindereth me. For man is so
made by nature that he will not bear to be deprived of
the Good nor to fall into the Evil. And in the end,
when I am neither able to alter outward things nor to
tear out the eyes of him that hindereth me, I sit
down and groan and rail on whomsoever I can, Zeus
and the other Gods;—for if they neglect me, what
have I to do with them 1 Yea, but thou wilt be an
impious man. And how shall I be worse off than I am
now ? Here is the whole matter : Remember that
unless religion and profit meet in the same thing,
religion cannot be saved in any man. Do not these
things mightily convince of their truth ?
4. Let the Pyrrhonist and the Academic come and
make their attack—I, for my part, have no leisure for
such discussions, nor am I able to argue in defence of
general consent.3 For if I had a suit about a little
piece of land, would I not call in another to argue for
me ? Wherewith shall I be satisfied ? With that
which concerns the matter in hand. How perception
takes place, whether by the whole man or by parts,
perhaps I know not how to declare : both opinions
perplex me. But that thou and I are not the same
I know very clearly, Whence know you this?
Never, when I wish to eat, do I carry the morsel to

,
 HOW WE SHOULD THINK. 63
another man's mouth, but to my own. Never, when
I wish to take a piece of bread, do I lay hold of a
broom, but I always go to the bread, as to a mark.
And ye who deny the truth of perception, what do ye
other than I ? Which of you, desiring to go to the
bath, ever went into a mill ? What then ? Ought
we not, according to our abilities, to busy ourselves with
the upholding of general consent, and raising defences
against all that opposeth the same ? And who denies
it ? But let him do it that can, that hath leisure ;
but he that trembleth, and is troubled and his
heart is broken within him, let him spend his time
on something different.

CHAPTER VIII.

HOW WE SHOULD THINK AS GOD'S OFFSPRING.

1. If those things are true which are said by

philosophers concerning the kinship of God and
men, what else remains for men to do than after
Socrates' way, who never, when men inquired of
him what was his native country, replied Athens or
Corinth, but the universe. For why wilt thou say thou
art an Athenian, and not rather name thyself from
that nook alone into which thy wretched body was
cast at birth ? Is it not plainly from the lordlier
place, and that which contains not only that nook and
all thy household, but also the whole land whence the

r
64 EPICTETUS.
race of thy ancestors has come down even to thee,
that thou callest thyself Athenian or Corinthian ?
Whoso, therefore, hath watched the governance of the
universe, and hath learned that the greatest and
mightiest and amplest of all societies is that which is
composed of mankind and of God ; and that from
Him have descended the seeds not only to my father
alone, nor to my grandfather, but to all creatures that
are conceived and born upon the earth (but especially
to reasoning beings, since to these alone hath nature
given it to have communion and intercourse with God,
being linked with Him through Keason),—wherefore
should such a one not name himself a citizen of the
universe ; wherefore not a son of God ? wherefore
shall he fear anything that may come to pass among
men ? And shall kinship with Caesar, or with some
other of those that are mighty at Home, be enough
to let us live in safety and undespised and fearing
nothing at all ; but to have God for our maker and
father and guardian, shall this not avail to deliver us
from griefs and fears ?
But I have no money, saith one ; whence shall 1
have bread to eat ?
2. Art thou not ashamed to be more cowardly and
spiritless than fugitive slaves are ? How do they
leave their masters when they run away ? in what
estates do they put their trust ? in what servants 1
After stealing a little to serve them for the first
few days, do they not afterwards journey by
land and sea, and make their living by one device
after another 1 And when did ever any fugitive
 HOW WE SHOULD THINK. 65
slave die of hunger ? But thou tremblest and sleepest
not of nights, for fear lest the necessaries of life fail
thee. Wretched man ! art thou thus blind ? and
seest not the road whither the want of necessaries
leads a man ? And whither leads it ? To the same
place that a fever doth, or a falling rock—to death.
Hast thou not often said this to thy friends? and
often read aloud these things, and written them ? and
how often hast thou vaunted thyself that thou wert
at peace about death ? Yea, but my dear ones shall
also suffer hunger. What then? Doth their hunger
lead to any other place than thine? Do they not
descend where thou descendest? Is there not one
underworld for them and thee ? Wilt thou not, then,
be bold in all poverty and need, looking to that place
whither the wealthiest of men, and the mightiest
governors, yea, and even kings and tyrants, must go
down ; thou, it may be, an-hungered, and they
bursting with indigestion and drunkenness ?
How seldom is it that a beggar is seen that is not
an old man, and even of exceeding age ? but freezing
by night and day, and lying on the ground, and
eating only what is barely necessary, they come near
to being unable to die. Canst thou not transcribe
writings ? canst thou not teach children ? or be some
man's door-keeper ?
But it is shameful to come to such a necessity I
Then first of all learn what things are shameful,
and afterwards tell us thou art a philosopher. But
at present suffer not even another man to call thee so.
3. Is that shameful to thee which is not thine
54i
66 EPICTETUS.
own doing, whereof thou art not the cause, which
cometh to thee without thy will, like a head
ache or a fever ? If thy parents were poor, or
made others their heirs, or are alive and give
thee nothing, are these things shameful to thee ? Is
this what thou hast learned from the philosophers ?
Hast thou never heard that what is shameful is
blamable; and that which is blamable ought to be
blamed ? But what man wilt thou blame for a
work not his own, one that he himself never did?
And didst thou make thy father such as he is ? or was
it in thy power to correct him ?—is it given thee to do
this 1 What then ? Oughtest thou to desire what is
not given to thee ? or to be ashamed if thou attain it
not 1 Or hast thou been accustomed, in philosophy, to
look to others, and to hope for nothing from thyself 1
Lament, therefore, and groan, and eat thy bread in
fear, lest thou have nothing to eat on the morrow.
Tremble for thy slaves, lest they steal, or run away,
or die. Do thou live thus, now and ever, who hast
approached to the name only of philosophy, and hast
brought the precepts of it to shame, so far as in thee
lies, showing them to be worthless and useless to
those who adopt them ; thou, who hast never striven
to gain steadfastness, cheerfulness, tranquillity; that
never waited upon any man for the sake of these
things, but upon many for the sake of learning
syllogisms ; that never tested for thine own self any
one of these appearances :—Am I able to bear it, or am
I not able ? What, then, remains for me to do ? But,
as though all went fairly and safely with thee, thou
 HOW WE SHOULD THINK. 67
abidest in the final part of philosophy,1 that which
confirms beyond all change—and wherein wilt thou
be confirmed ? in cowardice, meanness, admiration of
wealth, in vain pursuit, and vain efforts to avoid?
These are the things thou dost meditate how to
preserve unharmed.
4. Shouldst thou not have first have gained some
thing from Keason, and then fortified this with
safety? Whom sawest thou ever building a coping
round about, and never a wall on which to place it ?
And what door-keeper is set on guard where there is
no door ? But thy study is how to prove proposi
tions—and what proposition ? How the billows of
false reasonings may sweep thee not away—and away
from what? Show me first what thing thou art
guarding, or measuring, or weighing ; and afterwards
the scales or the measuring-rod. Or how long wilt
thou still be measuring the dust ? Are not these the
things it behoves thee to prove :—what it is that makes
men happy, what makes things proceed as we would
have them, how one should blame no man, accuse no
man, and fit oneself to the ordering of the All ?
Yea, prove me these ! But I do so, he saith. See ! I
resolve you syllogisms. Slave! this is the measuring-
rod—it is not the thing measured. Wherefore now you
pay the penalty for philosophy neglected; you tremble,
you lie awake at nights, you seek counsel on every
hand, and if the counsels are not pleasing to all men,
you think they were ill-counselled.
5. Then you fear hunger, as you suppose. But it
is not hunger that you fear—you fear you will have
68 EPICTETUS.
no cook, nor nobody else to buy victuals for you,
nor another to take off your boots, nor another
to put them on, nor others to rub you down, nor
others to follow you about, so that when you have
stripped yourself in the bath, and stretched your
self out as if you were crucified, you may be
rubbed to and fro, and then the rubber standing by
may say, Turn him round, give me his side., take hold
of his head, let one have his shoulder ; and then when
you leave the bath and go home you may shout, Is no
one bringing auything to eat ? and then, Take away the
plates, and wipe them. This is what you fear, —lest
you be not able to live like a sick man. But learn how
those live that are in health—slaves, and labourers, and
true philosophers ; how Socrates lived, who moreover
had a wife and children ; how Diogenes lived ; how
Cleanthes, that studied in the schools and drew his own
water.2 If you would have these things, they are
everywhere to be had, and you will live boldly. Bold
in what ? In that wherein alone it is possible to be
bold—in that which is faithful, which cannot be
hindered, which cannot be taken away. But why
hast thou made thyself so worthless and useless that
no one is willing to receive thee into his house or take
care of thee 1 But if any utensil were thrown away,
and it was sound and serviceable, everyone that found
it would pick it up and think it a gain ; but thee no
man would pick up, nor count anything but damage.
So thou canst not so much as serve the purpose of a
watch-dog, or a cock ? Why, then, wilt thou still live,
being such a man as thou art 1
 HOW WE SHOULD THINK. 69
6. Doth any good man fear lest the means of
gaining food fail him They fail not the blind, nor
the lame ; shall they fail a good man ? To the good
soldier there fails not one who gives him pay, nor to
the labourer, nor to the shoemaker ; and shall such a
one fail to the good man ? Is God, then, careless of
His instruments, His servants, His witnesses, whom
alone He useth to show forth to the untaught what He
is, and that He governs all things well, and is not
careless of human things ? and that to a good man
there is no evil, neither in life nor in death 1 How,
then, when He leaves them without food ? How else is
this than as when a good general gives me the signal
for retreat ? I obey, I follow, praising my leader and
hymning his works. For I came when it pleased
him, and when it pleases him I will go. In my life
time also my work was to sing the praise of God,
both alone to myself, and to single persons, and in
presence of many. He doth not provide me with
many things, nor with great abundance of goods ; He
will not have me live delicately. For neither did He
provide so for Hercules, His own son, but another
man reigned over Argos and Mycenae, while he obeyed
and laboured and was disciplined. And Eurystheus
was what he was—no king of Argos and Mycenae,
who was not king even of himself ; and Hercules was
lord and leader of all the earth and sea, for he
purged them of lawlessness and wrong, and brought
in righteousness and holiness ; naked and alone did
he this. And when Odysseus was shipwrecked and
cast away, did his need humble him one whit or
70 EPICTETUS.
break his spirit? But how did he go out to the
maidens, to beg for the necessaries of life, which it is
held most shameful to seek from another 1
" Even as a lion from his mountain home,
So went Odysseus trusting in his valour."
— Odyssey, vi. 130.

Trusting in what 1 Not in fame, nor wealth, but in

his own valour—that is, his opinions of the things
that are and are not in our power.8 For these alone
it is that make men free and unhindered ; that lift up
the heads of the abject, and bid them look rich men
and tyrants steadily in the face. And this was the
gift of the philosopher ; but thou wilt never go forth
boldly, but trembling for thy fine raiment and silver
dishes. Miserable man ! hast thou indeed thus wasted
all thy time till now 1

CHAPTEE IX.

THE OPEN DOOR.

1. Foe my part I think the old man should be

sitting here, not to devise how ye may have no
mean thoughts, nor speak no mean nor ignoble
things about yourselves, but to watch that there
arise not among us youths of such a mind, that
when they have perceived their kinship with the
Gods, and how the flesh and its possessions are
 THE OPEN DOOR. 71
laid upon us like bonds, and how many necessities
for the management of life are by them brought upon
us, they may desire to fling these things away for
abhorred and intolerable burthens, and depart unto
their kin. And this is what your master and teacher
—if, in sooth, ye had any such—should have to
contend with in you,—that ye should come to him and
say, Epictetus, we can endure no longer being bound to
this body, giving it food and drink, and resting it and
cleansing it, and going about to court one man after
another for its sake. Are not such things indifferent
and nothing to us ? And is not Death no evil ? Are
we not in some way kinsmen of God, and did we not
come from him ? Let us depart to whence we came ;
let us be delivered at last from these bonds wherewith
we are bound and burthened ! Here are robbers, and
thieves, and law courts, and those that are called
tyrants, which through the body and its possessions seem
as if they had some power over us. Let us show them
that they have no power over any man ! And to this it
should be my part to say, " My friends, wait upon
God. When He himself shall give the signal and
release you from this service, then are ye released
unto Him. But for the present, bear to dwell in this
place, wherein He has set you. Short, indeed, is this
time of your sojourn, and easy to bear for those that
are so minded. For what tyrant or what thief is
there any longer, or what court of law is terrible to
one who thus makes nothing of the body and the
possessions of it? Remain, then, and depart not
without a reason." Some such part as this should the

r
72 EPICTETUS.
teacher have to play towards the well-natured among
his disciples.
2. How long, then, are such injunctions to be
obeyed ? So long as it is profitable—that is to say, so
long as I can do what becomes and befits me. Then
some men are choleric and fastidious, and say, "I
cannot sup with this man, to have to hear him
every day telling how he fought in Mysia." / told
you, brother, how I went up the hill—then again I
began to be besieged. . . . But another saith, "I
prefer to have my supper, and listen to him prating
as long as he likes." And do thou compare the gain
on both sides—only do naught in heaviness or
affliction, or as supposing that thou art in evil case.
For to this no man can compel thee. Doth it smoke
in the chamber ? if it is not very much I will stay,
if too much, I will go out; for remember this always,
and hold fast to it, that the door is open. Thou shalt
not live in Nicopolis. I will not. Nor in Athens.
I will not live in Athens. Nor in Rome. Neither in
Rome. Live in Gyara.1 I will live in Gyara. But
living in Gyara seemeth to me like a great smoke. I
will depart, whither no man shall hinder me to dwell
—for that dwelling stands ever open to all.
3. Only do it not unreasonably, not cowardly, nor
make every common chance an excuse. For again, it
is not God's will, for He hath need of such an order of
things, and of such a race upon the earth. But if He
give the signal for retreat, as He did to Socrates, we
must obey Him as our commander.
 KNOW THYSELF. 73

CHAPTER X.

KNOW THYSELF.

1. If a man have any advantage over others, or

think himself to have it when he hath it not, it cannot
but be that if he is an untaught man he shall be puffed
up by it. Thus the tyrant says, I am he that is
master of all. And what can you give me ? Can you
set my pursuit free of all hindrance? How is it in
you to do that? For have you the gift of never
falling into what you shun ? or never missing the mark
of your desire? And whence have you it? Come,
now, in a ship do you trust to yourself or to the
captain? or in a chariot, to anyone else than the
driver P And how will you do with regard to other
acts? Even thus. Where, then, is your power ? All
•men minister to me. And do I not minister to my
plate, and I wash it and wipe it, and drive in a peg
for my oil-flask ? What then, are these things greater
than I? Nay, but they supply certain of my needs,
and for this reason I take care of them. Yea, and do
I not minister to my ass ? Do I not wash his feet and
groom him ? Know you not that every man ministers
to himself ? And he ministers to you also, even as he
doth to the ass. For who treats you as a man ? Show
me one that doth. Who wisheth to be like unto you ?
who becomes your imitator, as men did of Socrates ?
But I can cut off thy head. You say well. I had
forgotten that I must pay regard to you as to a fever
74 EPICTETUS.
or the cholera ; and set up an altar to you, as there is
in Rome an altar to Fever.
2. What is it, then, whereby the multitude is
troubled and terrified ? The tyrant and his guards 1
Never—God forbid it! It is not possible that that
which is by nature free should be troubled by any
other thing, or hindered, save by itself. But it is
troubled by opinions of things. For when the tyrant
saith to anyone, I will bind thy leg, then he who
setteth store by his leg saith, Nay, have pity ! but he
that setteth store by his own Will, If it seem more
profitable to you, then bind it.
" Dost thou not regard me 1 "
I do not regard you. I will show you that I am
master. How can you be that? Me hath God set
free ; or think you that he would let his own son be
enslaved? You are lord of my dead body—take
that.
" So when thou comest near to me, thou wilt
not do me service ? "
Nay, but I will do it to myself ; and if you will
have me say that I do it to you also, I tell you that
I do it as to my kitchen pot.
3. This is no selfishness ; for every living creature
is so made that it doth all things for its own sake.
For the sun doth all things for his own sake, and so,
moreover, even Zeus himself. But when He will be
Raingiver and Fruitgiver and Father of Gods and
men, thou seest that He may not do these works and
have these titles, but He be serviceable to the common
good. And, on the whole, He hath so formed the
 KNOW THYSELF. 75
nature of the reasoning creature that he may never
win aught of his own good without he furnish some
thing of service to the common good. Thus it is not
to the excluding of the common good that a man do
all things for himself. For is it to be expected that a
man shall stand aloof from himself and his own
interest ? And where then would be that same and
single principle which we observe in all things, their
affection to themselves
4. So, then, when we act on strange and foolish
opinions of things beyond the Will, as though they
were good or evil, it is altogether impossible but
we shall do service to tyrants. And would it were
to the tyrants alone, and not to their lackeys also !
5. But what hinders the man that hath dis
tinguished these things to live easily and docile,
looking calmly on all that is to be, and bearing
calmly all that is past ? Will you have me bear
poverty ? Come, and see what poverty is when it
strikes one that knoweth how to play the part well.
Will you have me rule 1 Give me power, then, and the
pains of it. Banishment? Whithersoever I go, it
shall be well with me ; for in this place it was well
with me, not because of the place, but because of the
opinions which I shall carry away with me. For
these no man can deprive me of. Yea, these only are
mine own, whereof I cannot be deprived, and they
suffice for me as long as I have them, wherever I be,
or whatever I do.
6. " But now is the time come to die."
What say you ? to die ? Nay, make no tragedy of
76 EPICTETUS.
the business, but tell it as it is. Now is it time for my
substance to be resolved again into the things where-
from it came together. And what is dreadful in this ?
What of the things in the universe is about to perish ?
What new, or what unaccountable thing is about to
come to pass ? Is it for these things that a tyrant is
feared ? through these that the guards seem to bear
swords so large and sharp ? Tell that to others ; but
by me all these things have been examined ; no man
hath power on me. I have been set free by God, I
know His commandments, henceforth no man can lead
me captive. I have a liberator2 such as I need, and
judges such as I need. Are you not the master of my
body ? What is that to me 1 Of my property ?
What is that to me ? Of exile or captivity ? Again,
I say, from all these things, and the poor body itself,
I will depart when you will. Try your power, and
you shall know how far it reaches.
7. But the tyrant will bind—what? The leg.
He will take away—what ? The head. What,
then, can he not bind and not take away? The
Will. And hence that precept of the ancients—Know
Thyself.
8. Whom, then, can I still fear 1 The lackeys of the
bed-chamber ? For what that they can do 1 Shut me
out 1 Let them shut me out, if they find me wishing
to go in.
" Why, then, didst thou go to the doors ? "
Because I hold it proper to join the play while the
play lasts.
" How, then, shalt thou not be shut out i "
 KNOW THYSELF. 77
Because if I am not received, I do not wish to enter ;
but always that which happens is what I wish For
I hold what God wills above what I will. I cleave to
Him as His servant and follower; my impulses are
one with His, my pursuit is one with His ; in a word,
my will is one with His. There is no shutting out for
me—nay, but for those who would force their way in.
And wherefore do I not force my way ? Because I
know that no good thing is dealt out within to those
that enter. But when I hear some one congratulated
on being honoured by Caesar, I say, What hath fortune
brought him 1 A government ? Has it also, then,
brought him such an opinion as he ought to have?
A magistracy ? Hath he also gained the power to be
a good magistrate ? Why will I still push myself
forward? A man scatters figs and almonds abroad;
children seize them, and fight among themselves ; but
not so men, for they hold it too trifling a matter. And
if a man should scatter about oyster-shells, not even
the children would seize them. Offices of government
are dealt out—children will look for them ; money is
given—children will look for it ; military commands,
consulships—let children scramble for them. Let
them be shut out and smitten, let them kiss the hands
of the giver, of his slaves—it is figs and almonds to
me. What then? If thou miss them when he is
flinging them about, let it not vex thee. If a fig fall
into thy bosom, take and eat it, for so far even a fig is
to be valued. But if I must stoop down for it, and
throw down another man, or another throw me down,
and I flatter those who enter in, then neither is a
78 EPICTETUS.
fig worth so much, nor is any other of the things that
are not good, even those which the philosophers
have persuaded me not to think good.

CHAPTER XI.1

HOW WE SHOULD BEAR OURSELVES TOWARDS EVIL

MEN.

1. If that which the philosophers say is true—that

there is one principle in all men, as when I assent
to something, the feeling that it is so; and when
I dissent, the feeling that it is not so; yea, and
when I withhold my judgment, the feeling that it
is uncertain ; and likewise, when I am moved to
wards anything, the feeling that it is for my profit,
but it is impossible to judge one thing to be
profitable and to pursue another, to judge one
thing right and be moved towards another—why
have we indignation with the multitude ? They are
robbers, one saith, and thieves. And what is it to be
robbers and thieves ? It is to err concerning things
good and evil. Shall we, then, have indignation with
them, or shall we pity them ? Nay, but show them
the error, and you shall see how they will cease from
their sins. But if they see it not, they have naught
better than the appearance of the thing to them.
2. Should not, then, this robber, or this adulterer, be
destroyed ? By no means, but take it rather this
 HOW WE SHOULD BEAR OURSELVES. 79
way : This man who errs and is deceived concerning
things of greatest moment, who is blinded, not in the
vision which distinguished black and white, but in
the judgment which distinguisheth Good and Evil—
should we not destroy him ? And thus speaking, you
shall know how inhuman is that which you say, and
how like as if you said, Shall we not destroy this blind
man, this deaf man ? For if it is the greatest injury
to be deprived of the greatest things, and the greatest
thing in every man is a Will such as he ought to have,
and one be deprived of this, why are you still indignant
with him 1 Man, you should not be moved contrary
to Nature by the evil deeds of other men. Pity him
rather, be not inclined to offence and hatred, abandon
the phrases of the multitude, like "these cursed
wretches." How have you suddenly become so wise
and hard to please ?
3. Wherefore, then, have we indignation 1 Because
we worship the things which they deprive us of. Do
not worship fine raiment, and you shall not be wroth
with the thief. Do not worship the beauty of a
woman, and you shall not be wroth with the
adulterer. Know that the thief and the adulterer
have no part in that which is thine own, but in that
which is foreign to thee, in that which is not in thy
power. These things if thou dismiss, and count them
for naught, with whom shalt thou still be wroth?
But so long as thou dost value these things, be wroth
with thyself rather than with others.
4. Look now how it stands : You have fine raiment,
your neighbour has not ; - you have a window, and
80 EPICTETUS.
wish to air your clothes at it. The neighbour knoweth
not what is the true good of man, but thinks it is to
have fine raiment, the same thing that you also think.
Then shall he not come and take them away ? Show a
cake to greedy persons, and eat it up yourself alone,
and will you have them not snatch at it? Nay, but
provoke them not. Have no window, and do not air
your clothes. I also had lately an iron lamp set
beside the images of the Gods ; hearing a noise at the
door, I ran down, and found the lamp carried off. I
reflected that the thief's impulse was not unnatural.
What then ? To-morrow, I said, thou wilt find an
earthen lamp? For a man loses only what he has. I
have lost a garment. For you had a garment. / have
a pain in my head. Have you any pain in your
horns ? Why, then, have you indignation 1 For there
is no loss and no suffering save only in those things
which we possess.

OHAPTEE XIL

THE VOYAGE OF LIFE.

Even as in a sea voyage, when the ship is brought

to anchor, and you go out to fetch in water, you make
a by-work of gathering a few roots and shells by the
way, but have need ever to keep your mind fixed on
the ship, and constantly to look round, lest at any time
the master of the ship call, and you must, if he call,
 THE MARK OF EFFORT. 81
cast away all those things, lest you be treated like the
sheep that are bound and thrown into the hold : So
it is with human life also. And if there be given
wife and children instead of shells and roots, nothing
shall hinder us to take them. But if the master call,
run to the ship, forsaking all those things, and looking
not behind. And if thou be in old age, go not far
from the ship at any time, lest the master should call,
and thou be not ready.

CHAPTER XIIL

THE MARK OF EFFORT.

1. Seek not to have things happen as you choose

them, but rather choose them to happen as they
do, and so shall you live prosperously.
2. Disease is a hindrance of the body, not of the
Will, unless the Will itself consent. Lameness is a
hindrance of the leg, not of the Will. And this you
may say on every occasion, for nothing can happen to
you but you will find it a hindrance not of yourself
but of some other thing.
3. What, then, are the things that oppress us and
perturb us ? What else than opinions ? He that
goeth away and leaveth his familiars and companions
and wonted places and habits—with what else is he
oppressed than his opinions ? Now, little children, if
they cry because their nurse has left them for a while,
542

/'
8a EP1CTETVS.
straightway forget their sorrow when they are given
a small cake. Wilt thou be likened unto a little
child ?
"Nay, by Zeus! for I would not be thus
affected by a little cake, but by right opinions."
And what are these ?
They are such as a man should study all day long
to observe—that he be not subject to the effects of
any thing that is alien to him, neither of friend, nor
place, nor exercises ; yea, not even of his own body,
but to remember the Law, and have it ever before his
eyes. And what is the divine Law ? To hold fast
that which is his own, and to claim nothing that is
another's ; to use what is given him, and not to covet
what is not given ; to yield up easily and willingly
what is taken away, giving thanks for the time that he
has had it at his service. This do—or cry for the nurse
and mamma ; for what doth it matter to what or
whom thou art subject, from what thy welfare hangs ?
Wherein art thou better than one who bewails himself
for his mistress, if thou lament thy exercises and
porticoes and comrades, and all such pastime 1 Another
cometh, grieving because he shall no more drink of the
water of Dirce. And is the Marcian water worse than
that of Dirce ?
" But I was used to the other."
And to this also thou shalt be used ; and when thou
art so affected towards it, lament for it too, and try to
make a verse like that of Euripides—

" The baths of Nero and the Marcian stream."1

 THE MARK OF EFFORT. 83
Behold how tragedies are made, when common chances
happen to foolish men !
4. "But when shall I see Athens and the
Acropolis again ? "
Wretched man ! doth not that satisfy thee which
thou seest every day ? Hast thou aught better or
greater to see than the sun, the moon, the stars, the
common earth, the sea? But if withal thou mark
the way of Him that governeth the whole, and
bear Him about within thee, wilt thou still long
for cut stones and a fine rock ? And when thou shalt
come to leave the sun itself and the moon, what wilt
thou do ? Sit down and cry, like the children ? What,
then, wert thou doing in the school 1 What didst thou
hear, what didst thou learn ? Why didst thou write
thyself down a philosopher, when thou mightest have
written the truth, as thus :—Imade certain beginnings,
and read Ghrysippus, but did not so much as enter the
door of a philosopher ? For how shouldst thou have
aught in common with Socrates, who died as he died,
who lived as he lived—or with Diogenes ? Dost thou
think that any of these men lamented or was indig
nant because he should see such a man or such a
woman no more ? or because he should not dwell in
Athens or in Corinth, but, as it might chance, in Susa
or Ecbatana ? When a man can leave the banquet or
the game when he pleases, shall such a one grieve if
he remains ? Shall he not, as in a game, stay only so
long as he is entertained 1 A man of this stamp would
endure such a thing as perpetual exile or sentence
of death.

r
84 EPICTETUS.
Wilt thou not now be weaned as children are, and
take more solid food, nor cry any more after thy
mother and nurse, wailing like an old woman ?
" But if I quit them I shall grieve them."
Thou grieve them ? Never ; but that shall grieve
them which grieveth thee—Opinion. What hast thou,
then, to do? Cast away thy own bad opinion; and
they, if they do well, will cast away theirs; if not,
they are the causes of their own lamenting.
5. Man, be mad at last, as the saying is, for peace,
for freedom, for magnanimity. Lift up thy head, as
one delivered from slavery. Dare to look up to God
and say : Deal with me henceforth as thou wilt ; I am
of one mind with thee ; I am thine. I reject nothing
that seems good to thee; lead me whithersoever thou
wilt, clothe me in what dress thou wilt. Wilt thou
have me govern or live privately, or stay at home, or
go into exile, or be a poor man, or a rich ? For all
these conditions I will be thy advocate with men—/
show the nature of each of them, what it is.
Nay, but sit in a corner and wait for thy mother to
feed thee.2
6. Who would Hercules have been if he had sat at
home? He would have been Eurystheus, and not
Hercules. And how many companions and friends
had he in his journeying about the world? But
nothing was dearer to him than God ; and for this he
was believed to be the son of God, yea, and was the
son of God. And trusting in God, he went about
purging away lawlessness and wrong. But thou art
no Hercules, and canst not purge away evils not thine

"
 FACULTIES. 85
ownf nor yet Theseus, who cleared Attica of evil
things? Then clear away thine own. From thy
breast, from thy mind cast out, instead of Procrustes
and Sciron, grief, fear, covetousness, envy, malice,
avarice, effeminacy, profligacy. And these things
cannot otherwise be cast out than by looking to God
only, being affected only by him, and consecrated to
his commands. But choosing anything else than this,
thou wilt follow with groaning and lamentation
whatever is stronger than thou, ever seeking pros
perity in things outside thyself, and never able to
attain it. For thou seekest it where it is not, and
neglectest to seek it where it is.

CHAPTER XIY.

FACULTIES.

Remember at anything that shall befall thee to turn

to thyself and seek what faculty thou hast for making
use of it. If thou see a beautiful person, thou wilt
find a faculty for that—namely, self-mastery. If
toil is laid upon thee, thou wilt find the faculty of
Perseverance. If thou art reviled, thou wilt find
Patience. And making this thy wont, thou shalt not
be carried away by the appearances.
86 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER XV.

RETURNS.

Never in any case say, I have lost such a thing, but I

home returned it. Is thy child dead ? it is a return.
Is thy wife dead ? it is a return. Art thou deprived
of thy estate ? is not this also a return ?
" But he is wicked who deprives me of it ! "
But what is that to thee, through whom the Giver
demands his own ? As long, therefore, as he grants it
to thee, steward it like another's property, as travellers
use an inn.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE PRICE OF TRANQUILLITY.

1. If you would advance in philosophy you must

abandon such thoughts as, If I neglect my affairs I
shall not have the means of living. If I do not correct
my servant he will be good for nothing. For it is
better to die of hunger, having lived without grief
and fear, than to live with a troubled spirit amid
abundance. And it is better to have a bad servant
than an afflicted mind.
2. Make a beginning, then, in small matters. Is a
 A CHOICE. 87
little of your oil spilt, or a little wine stolen ? Then
say to yourself, For so much peace is bought, this is
the price of tranquillity. For nothing can be gained
without paying for it. And when you call your
servant, bethink you that he may not hear, or, hearing,
may not obey. For him, indeed, that is not well, but
for you it is altogether well that he have not the
power to trouble your mind.

CHAPTER XVII.

A CHOICE.

If thou wouldst advance, be content to let people

think thee senseless and foolish as regards external
things. Wish not ever to seem wise, and if ever thou
shalt find thyself accounted to be somebody, then
mistrust thyself. For know that it is not easy to
make a choice that shall agree both with outward
things and with Nature, but it must needs be that he
who is careful of the one shall neglect the other.
88 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THAT WHERE THE HEART IS THE BOND IS.

1. Thou art a fool if thou desire wife and children

and friends to live forever, for that is desiring things
to be in thy power which are not in thy power, and
things pertaining to others to be thine own. So also
thou art a fool to desire that thy servant should never
do anything amiss, for that is desiring evil not to be
evil, but something else. But if thou desire never to
fail in any pursuit, this thou canst do. This, therefore,
practice to attain—namely, the attainable.
2. The lord of each of us is he that hath power over
the things that we desire or dislike, to give or to take
them away. Whosoever, then, will be free, let him
neither desire nor shun any of the things that are in
others' power ; otherwise he must needs be enslaved.
3. Wherefore Demetrius1 said to Nero, You threaten
me with death, but Nature threatens you. If I am
taken up with my poor body, or my property, I have
given myself over to slavery ; for I immediately show
of my own self with what I may be captured. As
when a snake draws in his head, I say, Strike at that
part of him which he guards. And know thou, that
at the part thou desirest to guard, there thy master
will fall upon thee. Remembering this, whom wilt
thou still flatter or fear ?
4. Think that thou shouldst conduct thyself in life
as at a feast. Is some dish brought to thee ? Then
 THAT WE LAMENT NOT FROM WITHIN. 89
put forth thy hand and help thyself in seemly
fashion. Doth it pass thee by ? Then hold it not
back. Hath it not yet come ? Then do not reach
out for it at a distance, but wait till it is at thine
hand. And thus doing with regard to children and
wife and governments and wealth, thou wilt be a
worthy guest at the table of the Gods. And if thou
even pass over things that are offered to thee, and
refuse to take of them, then thou wilt not only share
the banquet, but also the dominion of the Gods. For
so doing Diogenes and Heraclitus, and the like,
both were, and were reported to be, rightly divine.

CHAPTER XIX.

THAT WE LAMENT NOT FROM WITHIN.

When thou seest one lamenting in grief because his

son is gone abroad, or because he hath lost his goods,
look to it that thou be not carried away by the
appearance to think that he hath truly fallen into
misfortune, in outward things. But be the thought
at hand, It is not the thing itself that afflicts this man
—since there are others whom it afflicts not—but the
opinion he has about it. And so far as speech, be not
slow to fit thyself to his mood, and even if so it be to
lament with him. But have a care that thou lament
not also from within.
90 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER XX.

THAT A MAN MAY ACT HIS PART BUT NOT CHOOSE IT.

1. Remember that thou art an actor in a play, of

such a part as it may please the director to assign
thee ; of a short part if he choose a short part ; of a
long one if he choose a long. And if he will have
thee take the part of a poor man or of a cripple, or a
governor, or a private person, mayest thou act that
part with grace ! For thine it is to act well the
allotted part, but to choose it is another's.
2. Say no more then How will it be with me ? for
however it be thou wilt settle it well, and the issue
shall be fortunate. What would Hercules have been
had he said, How shall I contrive that a great lion may
not appear to me, or a great boar, or a savage man ?
And what hast thou to do with that ? if a great boar
appear, thou wilt fight the greater fight ; if evil men,
thou wilt clear the earth of them. But if I die thus ?
Thou wilt die a good man, in the accomplishing of a
noble deed. For since we must by all means die, a
man cannot be found but he will be doing somewhat,
either tilling or digging or trading or governing, or
having an indigestion or a diarrhoea. What wilt thou,
then, that Death shall find thee doing t I, for my part,
will choose some work, humane, beneficent, social, noble.
But if I am not able to be found doing things of this
greatness, then, at least, I will be doing that which
none can hinder me to do, that which is given to me
 THAT A MAN MA V ACT HIS PART. 91
to do—namely, correcting myself, bettering my faculty
for making use of appearances, working out my
peace, giving what is due in every obligation of
life ; and if I prosper so far, then entering upon the
third topic of philosophy, which concerneth the
security of judgments.
3. If Death shall find me in the midst of these
studies, it shall suffice me if I can lift up my hands to
God and say, The means which thou gavest me for the
perceiving of thy government, and for the following
of the same, have I not neglected: so far in me I
have not dishonoured thee. Behold how I have used
my senses, and my natural conceptions. Have I ever
blamed thee ? was I ever offended at aught that
happened, or did I desire it should happen otherwise?
Did I ever desire to transgress my obligations? That
thou didst beget me I thank thee for what thou gavest :
I am content that I have used thy gifts so long. Take
them again, and set them in what place thou wilt, for
thine were all things, and thou gavest them me.
4. Is it not enough to depart in this condition ?
and what life is better and fairer than one like this,
and what end more happy ?

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92 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER XXI.

DISTINCTIONS.

1. When a raven croaks you a bad omen, be not

carried away by the appearance ; but straightway
distinguish with yourself and say, None of these things
bodes aught to myself, but either to this poor body or
this wretched property of mine, or to my good repute,
or to my children, or to my wife. But to me all omens
are fortunate, if I choose to have it so. For whatever
of these things may come to pass, it lies with me to
have it serve me.
2. You may be always victorious if you will never
enter into any contest but where the victory depends
upon yourself.
3. When you shall see a man honoured above others,
or mighty in power, or otherwise esteemed, look to it
that thou deem him not blessed, being carried away by
the appearance. For if the essence of the Good be in
those things that are in our own power, then neither
envy nor jealousy have any place, nor thou thyself
shalt not desire to be commander or prince or consul,
but to be free. And to this there is one road—scorn
of the things that are not in our own power.
4. Remember, it is not he that strikes or he that
reviles that doth any man an injury, but the opinion
about these things, that they are injurious. When,
then, someone may provoke thee to wrath, know that
it is thine own conception which hath provoked thee.
 MAN IS SUFFICIENT TO HIMSELF. 93
Strive, therefore, at the outset not to be carried away
by the appearance; for if thou once gain time and
delay, thou wilt more easily master thyself.
5. Death and exile, and all things that appear
dreadful, let these be every day before thine eyes.
But Death most of all ; for so thou wilt neither
despise nor too greatly desire any condition of life.

CHAPTER XXII.

THAT A MAN IS SUFFICIENT TO HIMSELF.

1. If thou set thine heart upon philosophy, prepare

straightway to be laughed at and mocked by many
who will say, Behold, he has suddenly come back to us
a philosopher; or, How came you by that brow of scorn?
But do thou cherish no scorn, but hold to those things
that seem to thee the best, as one set by God in that
place. Remember, too, that if thou abide in that way,
those that first mocked thee, the same shall after
wards reverence thee ; but if thou yield to them, thou
shalt receive double mockery.
2. If it shall ever happen to thee to be turned to
outward things in the desire to please some person,
know that thou hast lost thy way of life. Let it be
enough for thee in all things to be a philosopher. But
if thou desire also to seem one, then seem so to thyself,
for this thou canst.

r
 94 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THAT EVERY MAN FULFIL HIS OWN TASK.

1. Let such thoughts never afflict thee as, I shall

live unhonoured, and never be anybody anywhere. For
if lack of honour be an evil, thou canst no more fall
into evil through another's doings than into vice. Is
it, then, of thy own doing to be made a governor, or
invited to feasts 1 By no means. How, then, is this
to be unhonoured ? How shouldst thou never be any
body anywhere, whom it behoves to be somebody only
in the things that are in thine own power, wherein it
lies with thee to be of the greatest worth ?
2. But I shall not be able to serve my friends. How
sayst thou ? to serve them ? They shall not have
money from thee, nor shalt thou make them Roman
citizens. Who, then, told thee that these were of the
things that are in our power, and not alien to us ?
And who can give that which himself hath not ?
3. Acquire, then, they say, that we may possess. If
I can acquire, and lose not piety, and faith, and
magnanimity withal, show me the way, and I will do
it. But if ye will have me lose the good things I pos
sess, that ye may compass things that are not good at
all, how unjust and unthinking are ye ! But which
will ye rather have—money, or a faithful and pious
friend ? Then, rather take part with me to this end ;
and ask me not to do aught through which I must
cast away those things.
 THE WORLD'S WORTH. 95
4. But, he saith, / shall not do my part in serving
my country. Again, what is this service ? Thy
country shall not have porticos nor baths from thee,
and what then ? Neither hath she shoes from the
smith, nor arms from the cobbler ; but it is enough if
every man fulfil his own task. And if thou hast
made one other pious and faithful citizen for her,
art thou, then, of no service ? Wherefore, neither
shalt thou be useless to thy country.
5. What place, then, he saith, can I hold in the
State ? Whatever place thou canst, guarding still
thy faith and piety. But if in wishing to serve
her thou cast away these things, what wilt thou
profit her then, when perfected in shamelessness and
falsehood ?

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE WORLD'S PRICE FOR THE WORLD'S WORTH.

1. Is some one preferred before thee at a feast, or

in salutation, or in being invited to give counsel ?
Then, if these things are good, it behoves thee rejoice
that he hath gained them ; but if evil, be not vexed
that thou hast not gained them ; but remember that
if thou act not as other men to gain the things that
are not in our own power, neither canst thou be held
worthy of a like reward with them.

4
r
96 EPICTETUS.
2. For how is it possible for him who will not hang
about other men's doors to have a like reward with
him who doth so ? or him who will not attend on
them with him who doth attend ? or him who will
not flatter them with the flatterer ? Thou art unjust,
then, and insatiable, if thou desire to gain those
things for nothing, without paying the price for
which they are sold.
3. But how much is a lettuce sold for ? A penny,
perchance. If anyone, then, will spend a penny, he
shall have lettuce ; but thou, not spending, shalt not
have. But think not thou art worse off than he ;
for as he has the lettuce, so thou the penny which
thou wouldst not give.
4. And likewise in this matter. Thou art not
invited to some man's feast ? That is, for thou gavest
not to the host the price of the supper ; and it is sold
for flattery, it is sold for attendance. Pay, then, the
price, if it will profit thee, for which the thing is sold.
But if thou wilt not give the price, and wilt have the
thing, greedy art thou and infatuated.
5. Shalt thou have nothing, then, instead of the
supper ? Thou shalt have this—not to have praised
one whom thou hadst no mind to praise, and not to
have endured the insolence of his door-keepers.
 THE MIND'S SECURITY. 97

CHAPTER XXV.

AIMS OF NATURE.

1. The will of Nature is to be learned from matters

which do not concern ourselves.1 Thus, when a boy
may break the cup of another man, we are ready to
say, It is a common chance. Know, then, that when
thine own is broken, it behoves thee to be as though
it were another man's. And apply this even to
greater things. Has another man's child died, or his
wife ? who is there that will not say, It is the lot of
humanity. But when his own may die, then straight
way it is, Alas, wretched that I am ! But we should
bethink ourselves what we felt on hearing of others in
the same plight.
2. As a mark is not set up to be missed, even so the
nature of evil exists not in the universe.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE MIND'S SECURITY.

If anyone should set your body at the mercy of

every passer-by, you would be indignant. When,
therefore, you set your own mind at the mercy of
every chance, to be troubled and perturbed when
anyone may revile you, have you no shame of this ?
543
98 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THAT A MAN SHOULD BE ONE MAN.

. 1. Oe every work you will take in hand mark well

the prefaces and the consequences, and so proceed.
For else you shall at first set out eagerly, as not
regarding what is to follow ; but in the end, if any
difficulties have arisen, you will leave it off with
shame.
2. So you wish to conquer in the Olympic games ?
And I, too, by the Gods ; and a fine thing it would be.
But mark the prefaces and the consequences, and then
set to work. You must go under discipline, eat by
rule, abstain from dainties, exercise yourself at the
appointed hour, in heat or cold, whether you will or
no, drink nothing cold, nor wine at will ; in a word,
you must give yourself over to the trainer as to a
physician. Then in the contest itself there is the
digging race,1 and you are like enough to dislocate
your wrist, or turn your ankle, to swallow a great
deal of dust, to be soundly drubbed, and after all these
things to be defeated.
3. If, having considered these things, you are still in
the mind to enter for the contest, then do so. But
without consideration you will turn from one thing to
another like a child, who now plays the wrestler,
now the gladiator, now sounds the trumpet, then
declaims like an actor ; and so you, too, will be first an
 THAT A MAN SHOULD BE ONE MAN. 99
athlete, then a gladiator, then an orator, then a philo
sopher, and nothing with your whole soul ; but as an
ape you will mimic everything you see, and be
charmed with one thing after another. For you
approached nothing with consideration nor regularity,
but rashly, and with a cold desire.
4. And thus some men, having seen a philosopher,
and heard discourse like that of Euphrates2 (yet who
indeed can say that any discourse is like his?) desire
that they also may become philosophers.
5. But, O man ! consider first what it is you are
about to do, and then inquire of your own nature
whether you can carry it out. Will you be a pen-
tathlos,8 or a wrestler ? Then, scan your arms and
thighs ; try your loins. For different men are made
for different ends.
6. Think you, you can be a sage, and continue to
eat and drink and be wrathful and take offence just
as you were wont ? Nay, but you must watch and
labour, and withdraw yourself from your household,
and be despised by any serving boy, and be ridiculed
by your neighbours, and take the lower place every
where, in honours, in authority, in courts of justice,
in dealings of every kind.4
7. Consider these things—whether you are willing
at such a price to gain peace, freedom, and an
untroubled spirit. And if not, then attempt it not,
nor, like a child, play now the philosopher, then the
tax-gatherer, then the orator, then the Procurator of
Caesar. For these things agree not among them
selves ; and, good or bad, it behoves you to be one
ioo EPICTETUS.
man. You should be perfecting either your own
ruling faculty, or your outward well-being ; spending
your art either on the life within or the life without ;
that is to say, you must hold your place either among
the sages or the vulgar.

End of Book IL

~
 BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

OBLIGATIONS.

1. Obligations are universally defined by the bonds

of relation. Is such a man your father ? Then you
are to bear dictation from him, to take care of him, to
give place to him in all things, to bear his rebukes, his
chastisement. But if he be a bad father ? Were you
then related by any law of Nature to a good father ?
Nay, but simply to a father. Your brother does you
wrong. Then guard your own place towards him, nor
scrutinise what he is doing, but what you may do to
keep your will in accord with Nature. For none other
shall hurt you, if yourself choose it not, but you shall
be hurt then when you conceive yourself to be so.
2. Thus shall you discover your obligations from
the offices of a neighbour, a citizen, a general, if you
will accustom yourself to watch the relationships.

'
io2 EPICTETVS.

CHAPTER II.

AGAINST EPICURUS.

1. Even Epicurus is conscious that we are by nature

social, but having once placed the good in the husk,1
he cannot thereafter speak anything but what agrees
with this; for again he affirms, and rightly affirms,
that nothing is to be admired or received that is
separated from the nature of the Good. How then,
Epicurus, do you suspect that we are social, if Nature
had given us no affection for our offspring ?2 Where
fore do you counsel the sage against bringing up
children ? Why do you fear lest he fall into sorrow
by so doing ? Doth he fall into sorrow for the mouse
that lives in his house ? What careth he if a little
mouse complain to him at home. But he knows well
that if a little child be born, it is no longer in our
power not to love it and be anxious for it.
2. Thus, too, he saith that no man of sense will
take part in affairs of the state, for he knows what he
who takes part in them must do ; but what should
hinder one to take part, if he may behave among men
as in a swarm of flies 1 But Epicurus, knowing these
things, dares to say that we should not rear up our
children. But even a sheep will not desert its young,
nor a wolf ; and shall a man ? What ! will you have
us to be silly creatures, like the sheep ? Yet they
desert not their young. Or savage, like wolves ?
Yet even they desert them not. Come, then, who
 AGAINST EPICURUS. 103
would obey you if he saw his little child fall on the
ground and cry 1 For my part, I suppose that had it
been prophesied to your mother and your father that
you would say these things, not even so would they
have cast you out.
3. But how can it be said of these outward things3
that they are according to Nature, or contrary to
Nature ? That is to speak as if we were solitary
and disunited from others. For to the foot I shall
say it is according to Nature that it be clean ; but if
you take it as a foot, and not as a solitary thing, it
shall beseem it to go into the mud, and to tread on
thorns, and perchance to be cut off, for the sake of
the whole ; otherwise it is no longer a foot.
4. And some such thing we should suppose about
ourselves also. What art thou? A man. Look at
thyself as a solitary creature, and it is according to
Nature to live to old age, to grow rich, to keep good
health. But if thou look at thyself as a man, and as
a part of a certain Whole, for the sake of that Whole
it may become thee now to have sickness, now to sail
the seas and run into peril, now to suffer need, and
perchance to die before thy time.
5. Why, then, dost thou bear it hard ? Knowest
thou not, that as the foot alone is not a foot, so thou
alone art not a man ? For what is a man 1 A part
of a polity, first of that which is made up of Gods and
men ; then of that which is said to be next to the
other, which is a small copy of the Universal Polity.
6. Then must I now be brought to trial, and ncno
must another have a fever, and another sail the seas,
104 EPICTETUS.

another die, another be sentenced? Yea, for such a

body, in the bounds of such a universe, in such a
throng of inhabitants, it cannot be but that different
things of this nature should fall on different persons.
This is thy task then, having come into the world, to
speak what thou shouldst, and to order these things
as it is fitting.
7. Then someone saith, / charge you with wrong
doing. Much good may it do thee ! I have done my
part—look to it thyself if thou have done thine, for
of this too there is some danger, lest it escape thee.

CHAPTER m.

AGAINST THE EPICUREANS AND ACADEMICS.

1. Beliefs which are sound and manifestly true are

of necessity used even by those who deny them. And
perhaps a man might adduce this as the greatest
possible proof of the manifest truth of anything, that
those who deny it are compelled to make use of it.
Thus, if a man should deny that there is anything
universally true, it is clear that he is obliged to affirm
the contrary, the negation—that there is nothing uni
versally true. Slave ! not even this—for what is this
but to say that if there is anything universal it is
falsehood ?
2. Again, if one should come and say, Know that
 AGAINST THE EPICUREANS. 105
nothing can be known, but all things are incapable of
proof; or another, Believe me, and it shall profit thee,
that no man ought to believe any man; or, again,
another, Learn from me, 0 man, that it is not possible
to learn anything, and I tell thee this, and I will teach
thee, if thou wilt—now wherein do such men differ
from those—whom shall I say?—those who call them
selves Academics ? Assent, 0 men, that no man can
assent to aught; believe us that no man can believe
any one.
3. Thus Epicurus, when he would abolish the natural
fellowship of men with one another, employeth the
very thing that is being abolished. For what saith
he ? Be not deceived, 0 men, nor misguided nor mis
taken—there is no naturalfellowship among reasoning
beings, believe me; and those who speak otherwise
deceive us with sophisms. What is that to thee ? let
us be deceived ! Will it be the worse for thee if all
other men are persuaded that we have a natural
fellowship with one another, and that we should in
all ways maintain it 1 Nay—but much the better
and safer. Man, why dost thou take thought for us,
and watch at night for our sakes ? Why dost thou
kindle thy lamp and rise early 1 why dost thou write
so many books, lest any of us should be deceived about
the Gods, in supposing that they cared for men 1 or
lest anyone should take the essence of the Good to be
anything else than Pleasure ? For if these things are
so, then lie down and sleep, and live the life of a
worm, wherefor thou hast judged thyself fit ; eat
and drink and cohabit and ease thyself and snore.
106 EPICTETUS.

What is it to thee how other men think concerning

these matters, whether soundly or unsoundly ? What
hast thou to do with us ? With sheep hast thou
some concern, for that they serve us when they are
shorn, and when they are milked, and at last when
they have their throats cut. Were it not, then, to
be desired, if men could be lulled and charmed
to slumber by the Stoics, and give themselves to
thee and the like of thee, to be shorn and
milked ? These things shouldst thou say to thy
brother Epicureans; but shouldst thou not keep
them hidden from other men, and seek in every
way to persuade them above all things that we are
by nature social, and that temperance is good ; in
order that everything may be kept for thee? Or
should we preserve this fellowship with some and
not with others ? With whom, then, should we
preserve it ? With those who also preserve it
towards us, or with those who transgress it? And
who transgress it more than ye, who set forth such
doctrines ?
4. What, then, was it that roused up Epicurus
from his sleep, and compelled him to write the things
he wrote ? What else than Nature, the mightiest of
all powers in humanity ? Nature, that drags the
man, reluctant and groaning, to her will. For, saith
she, since it seems to thee that there is no fellowship
among men, write this down, and deliver it to others,
and watch and wake for this, and be thyself by thine
own deed the accuser of thine own opinions. Shall we
then, say that Orestes was driven by the Furies and,
 AGAINST THE EPICUREANS. 107
aroused from sleep, and did not crueller Furies and
Avengers rouse this man as he slumbered, and
suffered him not to rest, but compelled him, as
madness and wine the priests of Cybele,1 to proclaim
his own evils ? So mighty and invincible a thing is
man's nature.
5. For how can a vine be affected, and not in the
nanner of a vine, but of an olive ? Or how, again, can
an olive be affected not in the manner of an olive but
of a vine ? It is impossible, it cannot be conceived.
Neither, then, is it possible for a man wholly to lose
the affections of humanity, for even eunuchs cannot
cut away from themselves the desires of men. And
thus Epicurus has cut away all that belongs to a man
as father of a family, and as citizen, and as friend ;
but the desires of humanity he hath not cut away, for
he could not ; no more than these pitiful Academics
are able to cast away or to blind their own percep
tions, although this is the thing that they have striven
with all their zeal to do.
6. How shameful is this ! that a man having
received from Nature measures and canons for the
recognition of truth, should study not to add to them
and perfect them where they are wanting, but the
very contrary of this ; if there be anything that may
lead us to the knowledge of the truth, they strive to
abolish and destroy it.
7. What sayest thou, philosopher ? religion and
holiness, what dost thou take them for ?2
" If thou wilt, I shall prove that they are good."
So be it ; prove it then, in order that our citizens

r
108 EPICTETUS.

may be converted and honour the Divinity, and be no

longer neglectful of the greatest things.
" Now hast thou received the proofs ? "
I have, and am thankful therefor.
8. " Now since thou art exceedingly well
pleased with these things, hear the contrary: There are
no Gods, or if there be, they have no care for men, nor
have we any communion with them ; and this religion
and holiness, whereof the multitude babble, is the lying
of impostors and sophists, or of legislators, by Zeus !
for the frighting and restraining of evil-doers."
Well said, philosopher ! the citizens shall have much
profit of thee ! thou hast already brought back all our
youths to the contempt of sacred things.
" What now ? are these doctrines not pleasing
to thee ? Learn, then, that Righteousness is nothing,
that Reverence is folly, that a father is nothing, a son
nothing."
Well said, philosopher ! proceed, persuade the
young, that we may multiply the number of those
who believe and speak with thee. From these teach
ings have grown our well-governed States, from these
did Sparta spring, and these beliefs, by his laws and
discipline, did Lycurgus plant among his people :—
That slavery is no more base than honourable, nor to
be free men more honourable than base. Through
these opinions died those who fell at Thermopylae,
and through what others did the Athenians forsake
their city I8
9. Then those who speak such things marry, and
beget children, and take part in public affairs, and
 ON SLAVERY. 109
make themselves priests and augurs—of what? Of
beings that do not exist ! and they question the
Pythian oracle that they may learn falsehoods ; and
they declare the oracles to others. O monstrous
impudence and imposture !

CHAPTER IV.

ON SLAVERY.

1. A CERTAIN man having inquired how one may

make his meals in a manner pleasing to the Gods, If
he do it uprightly, said Epictetus, and considerately,
and equably, and temperately, and orderly, shall it not
also be thus pleasing to the Gods? But when you
ask for hot water, and the boy does not hear, or,
hearing, brings it only luke-warm ; or if he is not even
to be found in the house, then is it not pleasing to the
Gods if you refrain from indignation, and do not burst
with passion ? How shall one endure such fellows ?
Wretch, wilt thou not bear with thine own brother,
who is of the progeny of Zeus, like a son sprung
of the same seed as thyself, and of the same heavenly
descent, but thou must straightway make thyself a
tyrant, for the place of command in which thou art
set ? Wilt thou not remember who thou art, and
whom thou rulest—that they are kinsmen, brethren
by nature, the progeny of Zeus ? But I have bought
them, and they have not bought me ! Seest thou, then,

/'
no EPICTETUS.
whither thou art looking—towards the earth, towards
the pit of perdition, towards these miserable laws of
dead men ? but towards the laws of the Gods thou
dost not look.
2. That which thou wouldst not suffer thyself, seek
not to lay upon others. Thou wouldst not be a slave
—look to it, that others be not slaves to thee. For if
thou endure to have slaves, it seems that thou thy
self art first of all a slave. For virtue hath no
communion with vice nor freedom with slavery.
3. As one who is in health would not choose to be
served by the sick, nor that those dwelling with him
should be sick, so neither would one that is free bear
to be served by slaves, or that those living with him
should be slaves.1

CHAPTER V.

TO THE ADMINISTRATOR OF THE FREE CITIES, WHO

WAS AN EPICUREAN.

1. The Administrator1 having visited him (and this

man was an Epicurean), It is proper, said Epictetus,
that ignorant people like us should inquire of you
that are philosophers (as men who come into a strange
city make inquiry of the citizens and those familiar
with the place) what is the chief thing in the world, to
the end that, having learned it, we may go in search of
it, and behold it, as men do with objects in the cities.
 TO THE ADMINISTRATOR. m
2. Now, that there are three things with which mail
is concerned—soul, and body, and the outer world—
scarce anyone will deny. It remaineth, then, for men
like ye to answer which is the chief of these things ?
What shall we declare to men ? Is it the flesh ? And
was it for this that Maximus sent forth his son, and
sailed with him through the tempest as far as
Cassiope,2 for somewhat that he should feel in the
flesh?
3. But the Epicurean denying this, and saying,
God forbid, Epictetus said :
Is it not fit, then, that we should be zealous about
that, the chief thing ?
" Of all things most fit."
What, then, have we greater than the flesh 1
" The soul," he said.
And the good of the chief thing, is it greater than
the good of the lower thing ?
" The good of the chief thing is greater."
And the good things of the soul, are they in the
power of the Will, or beyond the Will ?
" They are in the power of the Will."
The pleasure of the soul, then, is within the power
of the Will ?
He assented.
And this pleasure itself, whence may it arise ?
From itself ? But this is inconceivable ; for we must
suppose some original substance of the Good, whereof
the soul doth make us sensible when we light upon it.
This, too, he admitted.
Wherein, then, are we sensible of this spiritual

r
H2 EP1CTETUS.
pleasure ? for if it be in spiritual things, the nature of
the Good is discovered. For the Good cannot be some
thing different from the thing that justly delights us;
nor, if the original thing be not good, can aught be
good that proceeds from it ; for, in order that the
thing proceeding may be good, the original thing must
be good also. But this ye would never say, if ye had
your wits, for so ye would speak things that agree not
with Epicurus and the rest of your opinions. It
remains, then, that we are conscious in bodily things
of this pleasure of the soul, and again, that these are
the original things and the very substance of the
Good.3
4. Wherefore Maximus did foolishly if he made his
voyage for the sake of anything else than the flesh ;
that is, than the chief thing. And any man doth
foolishly who restraineth himself from others' good,
if he be a judge, and able to take them. But,
if you please, let us regard this only, how it may be
done secretly and safely, and so that none may know
it For neither does Epicurus himself declare stealing
to be bad, but only to be caught stealing; and because
it is impossible to be certain of no discovery, therefore
he saith, Ye shall not steal. But I say that if we
steal with skill and discretion, we shall not be caught.
And, moreover, if we have powerful friends among
men and women at Rome, and the Greeks are feeble,
no one will dare to go thither on this score. Why do
you refrain from your own good ? This is foolish—
this is absurd. But not even if you tell me you do
refrain will I believe you. For, as it is impossible to
 TO THE ADMINISTRATOR. 113
assent to anything that appeareth to be a falsehood,
or to turn away from what appeareth to be true, even
so it is impossible to withhold oneself from anything
that appeareth to be good. But riches are a good, and,
at all events, the most potent means of pleasure.
Wherefore, then, not compass them? And why not
corrupt our neighbour's wife, if we may do it secretly?
and also, if the husband talk nonsense about it, let us
fling him out ! If you will be a true and perfect
philosopher, and obedient to your own doctrines, thus
must you do; but if you do not, you differ no whit from
us that are called Stoics. For truly we ourselves say
one thing and do another ; we speak fair and honest
things, and do vile ones. But the opposite distemper
will be thine—a vile creed and honourable deeds.
5. And you think, God help you ! of a city of
Epicureans 1 I do not marry. Nor I ; for it is not
right to marry, nor beget children, nor take part in
public affairs. What will come to pass then ?
Whence shall we have citizens ? who shall educate
them ? who shall be the overseer of youth ?* who
the director of gymnastics ? and how shall the
youth be trained up ? as the Lacedaemonians ? or as
the Athenians? Take me a youth, and bring him
up after these doctrines of thine ! Evil are they,
subversive of States, mischievous to households, un
becoming to women. Abandon them, man! Thou
dwellest in a chief city ; it is thy part to rule, to
judge righteously, to refrain from other men's goods ;
nor must any woman seem beautiful to thee save thine
own wife, nor vessel of gold or silver. Seek for
544
ii4 EPICTETUS.
doctrines in harmony with these words, from which
setting out thou mayest with gladness abandon things
so potent to attract and overcome. But if beside the
seduction of these things we have sought out some
philosophy like this that pushes us towards them, and
confirms us in them, what shall come of it ?
6. In the graver's work, which is the chief thing ?
the silver or the art ? The substance of the hand is
flesh, but the main things are the works of the hand.
The obligations, therefore, are also three—those that
concern us, firstly, in that we are ; and secondly, as
we are ; and thirdly, the main things themselves.
And thus in man, too, it is not meet to value the
material, this flesh, but the main things. What are
these ? To take part in public affairs, to marry, to
beget children, to fear God, to care for parents, and,
in general, to pursue, to avoid, to desire, to dislike, as
each of these things should be done, as Nature made
us to do. And how made she us ? To be free,
generous, pious. For what other creature blushes ?
what other is capable of the sense of shame ?
7. And to these things let Pleasure be subject as a
minister, a servant, that she may summon forth our
ardour, and that she also may aid in works that are
according to Nature.5
8. " But I am a wealthy man, and have no need
of aught."
Why, then, dost thou profess philosophy? Thy
vessels of gold and vessels of silver are enough for
thee ; what need hast thou of doctrines t
" But I am also a judge of the Greeks 1 "
 TO THE ADMINISTRATOR. 115
Dost thou know how to judge—who made thee
know?
" Caesar wrote me a commission."
Let him write thee a commission to be a judge of
music, and what help will it be to thee ? And how
didst thou become a judge ? by kissing of what man's
hand? Was it that of Symphorus or Numenius?
Before whose bed-chamber didst thou sleep? To
whom didst thou send gifts ? Dost thou not perceive,
then, that to be a judge is worth just as much as
Numenius is worth ?
" But I can cast into prison whom I will."
As if he were a stone.
" But I can flog any man I will."
As if he were an ass. This is no government of
men. Rule us as reasoning beings ; show us what is
for our good, and we shall follow it ; show us what is
for our ill, and we shall turn away from it ; make us
emulators of thyself, as Socrates made his disciples.
He, indeed, was one that governed men as men, who
made them subject unto him in their pursuit and
their avoidance, their desire and dislike. Do this, do
not this, or I vritt cast thee into prison. This is not
the rule of reasoning beings. But, As Zeus hath
ordered, so do thou act ; but if thou dost not, thou shalt
suffer loss and hurt. What hurt ? None other than
this—not to have done what it behoved thee to do.
Thou shalt lose faith, piety, decency—look for no
greater injuries than these.

r
n6 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER VI.

ON STATECRAFT.

1. Not with the stones of Euboea and Sparta let

the structure of your city walls be variegated ; but let
the discipline and teaching that comes from Greece
penetrate with order the minds of citizens and states
men. For with the thoughts of men are cities well
established, and not with wood and stone.
2. If thou wouldst have a household well established,
then follow the example of the Spartan Lycurgus.
For even as he did not fence the city with walls, but
fortified the inhabitants with virtue, and so preserved
the city free for ever, thus do thou not surround
thyself with a great court and set up lofty towers, but
confirm the dwellers in the house with goodwill, and
faith, and friendliness, and no harmful thing shall
enter ; no, not if the whole army of evil were arrayed
against it.
3. Which of us will not admire Lycurgus, the
Lacedaemonian ? For having lost an eye at the hands
of one of the citizens, and having received the young
man from the people that he should punish him as he
would, he refrained from this ; but having taught him
and proved him to be a good man, he brought him
into the theatre. And when the Lacedaemonians
marvelled, I received this man from you, he said,
insolent and violent; I give him back to you mild
and civil.
 ON FRIENDSHIP. 117

CHAPTER VII.

ON FRIENDSHIP.

1. Whereinsoever a man is zealous, this, it is fair

to suppose, he loveth. Are men, then, zealous for evil
things ? Never.1 Or, perchance, for things which
do not concern them ? Nor for them either. It
remaineth, then, that they are zealous about good
things only ; and that if they are zealous about them,
they also love them. Whosoever, then, hath under
standing of good things, the same would know how
to love. But he who is not able to distinguish good
things from evil, and things that are neither from
both, how could this man yet be capable of loving ?
To love, then, is a quality of the wise alone.
2. And how is this, saith one, for I am foolish, and
none the less do I love my child. By the Gods 1 I
wonder, then, how you have begun by confessing your
self to be foolish. For wherein do you lack ? Do
you not use your senses? do you not judge of
appearances ? do you not bring to the body the
nourishment it needeth, and the covering and
habitation 1 Wherefore, then, confess yourself to be
a fool ? Because, forsooth, you are often perplexed
by appearances, and troubled, and you are vanquished
by their plausibility ; and you take the same things
to be now good, and now evil, and then indifferent ;
and, in a word, you grieve and fear and envy, and are
u8 EPICTETUS.
troubled, and changed—for these things you confess
yourself a fool.
3. But do you never change in love? But is it
wealth, and pleasure, and, in short, things alone that
you sometimes take to be good and sometimes evil ?
and do you not take the same men to be now good,
now evil? and sometimes you are friendly disposed
towards them, and sometimes hostile ? and sometimes
you praise them, and sometimes you blame ?
" Yea, even so I do."
What then ? a man who hath been deceived about
another, is he, think you, his friend 1
" Assuredly not."
And one who hath taken a friend out of a humour
for change, hath he good-will towards him ?
"Nor he either."
And he who now reviles another, and afterwards
reveres him 1
"Nor he."
What then? Sawest thou never the whelps of a
dog, how they fawn and sport with each other, that
you would say nothing can be more loving ? But to
know what friendship is, fling a piece of flesh among
them, and thou shalt learn. And cast between thee
and thy child a scrap of land, and thou shalt learn
how the child will quickly wish to bury thee, and thou
wilt pray that he may die. And then thou wilt say,
What a child have I nourished ! this long time he is
burying me I Throw a handsome girl between you,
and the old man will love her, and the young too ;2
and if it be glory, or some risk to run, it will be on
 ON FRIENDSHIP. 119
the same fashion. You will speak words of the father
of Admetus8 :—
" Day gladdens thee ; think'st thou it glads not me ?
Thou lovest light ; think'st thou I love the dark I"

Think you this man did not love his own child
when it was little ? nor was in agony if it had a
fever ? nor said many a time, Would that I had the
fever rather than he! Then when the trial cometh
and is near at hand, lo, what words they utter ! And
Eteocles and Polyneices,4 were they not children of
the same mother and the same father ? were they not
brought up together, did they not live together, drink
together, sleep together, and often kiss one another ?
So that anyone who saw them, I think, would have
laughed at the philosophers, for the things they say
perversely about friendship. But when royalty, like
a piece of flesh, hath fallen between them, hear what
things they speak :—
Pol. Where wilt thou stand before the towers ?
Et. Wherefore seekest thou to know 1
Pol. There I too would stand and slay thee.
Et. Thou hast spoken my desire.
4. For universally, be not deceived, nothing is so
dear to any creature as its own profit. Whatsoever
may seem to hinder this, be it father or child or
friend or lover, this he will hate and abuse and curse.
For Nature hath never so made anything as to love
aught but its own profit : this is father and brother
and kin and country and God. When, then, the Gods
appear to hinder us in this, we revile even them, and
iao EPICTETUS.
overthrow their images and burn their temples ; as
Alexander, when his friend died, commanded to burn
the temples of Esculapius.
5. Therefore, if a man place in the same thing both
profit and holiness, and the beautiful and father
land, and parents and friends, all these things shall be
saved ; but if he place profit in one thing, and
friends and fatherland and kinsfolk, yea, and
righteousness itself some other where, all these things
shall perish, for profit shall outweigh them. For
where the I and the Mine are, thither, of necessity,
inclineth every living thing : if in the flesh, then the
supremacy is there ; if in the Will, it is there ; if in
outward things, it is there. If, then, mine I is where
my Will is, thus only shall I be the friend I should be,
or the son or the father. For my profit then will be
to cherish faith and piety and forbearance and
continence and helpfulness ; and to guard the bonds
of relation. But if I set Myself in one place and
Virtue some otherwhere, then the word of Epicurus
waxeth strong, which declareth that there is no
Virtue, or, at least, that Virtue is but conceit.
6. Through this ignorance did Athenians and
Lacedaemonians quarrel with each other, and The-
bans with both of them, and the Great King with
Hellas, and Macedonians with both of them, and
even now Romans with Getae ; and through this yet
earlier the wars of Ilion arose. Paris was the guest
of Menelaus; and if anyone had seen how friendly-
minded towards each other they were, he would have
disbvlieved anyone who said they were not friends.
 ON FRIENDSHIP. 121
But a morsel was flung between them—a fair woman,
and about her there was war. And now when you see
friends or brothers that seem to be of one mind, argue
nothing from this concerning their friendship; nay,
not if they swear it, not if they declare that they can
not be parted from each other. For in the ruling faculty
of a worthless man there is no faith ; it is unstable,
unaccountable, victim of one appearance after another.
But try them, not, as others do, if they were born of
the same parents and nurtured together, and under
the same tutor ; but by this alone, wherein they place
their profit, whether in outward things or in the
will. If in outward things, call them no more friends
than faithful or steadfast or bold or free; yea, nor
even men, if you had sense. For that opinion hath
nothing of humanity that makes men bite each other,
and revile each other, and haunt the wildernesses, or
the public places, like the mountains,6 and in the
courts of justice, to show forth the character of
thieves; nor that which makes men drunkards and
adulterers and corruptors, nor whatever other ills
men work against each other through this one and
only opinion, that They and Theirs lie in matters
beyond the Will. But if you hear, in sooth, that these
men hold the Good to be there only where the Will is,
where the right use of appearances is, then be not
busy to inquire if they are father and son, or brothers,
or have long time companied with each other as
comrades; but, knowing this one thing alone, argue
confidently that they are friends, even as they are
faithful and upright. For where else is friendship
122 EPICTETUS.
than where faith is, where piety is, where there is
an interchange of virtue, and none of other things
than that ?
7. But such a one hath shown kindness to me so long,
and is he not my friend ? Slave, whence knowest
thou if he did not show thee kindness as he wipes his
shoes or tends his beast ? Whence knowest thou if,
when thy use is at an end as a vessel, he will not cast
thee away like a broken plate ? But she is my wife,
and we have lived together so long ? And how long
lived Eriphyle with Amphiaraus, and was the mother,
yea, of many children ? But a necklace came between
them.6 But what is a necklace ? It is the opinion
men have concerning such things. That was the wild
beast nature, that was the sundering of love, that
which would not allow the woman to be a wife, or
the mother a mother. And of you, whosoever hath
longed either to be a friend himself or to win some
other for a friend, let him cut out these opinions, let
him hate them and drive them from his soul.
8. And thus he will not revile himself, nor be at
strife with himself, nor be variable, nor torment
himself. And to another, if it be one like himself, he
will be altogether as to himself, but with one unlike
he will be forbearing and gentle and mild, ready to
forgive him as an ignorant man, as one who is astray
about the greatest things ; but harsh to no man, being
well-assured of that dogma of Plato, that no soul is
willingly deprived of the truth.
9. But otherwise ye may do all things whatsoever,
even as friends are wont to do, and drink together,
 TIME AND CHANGE. 123
and dwell together, and voyage together, and be born
from the same parents, for so are snakes ; but friends,
they are not, nor are ye, so long as ye hold these
accursed doctrines of wild beasts.

CHAPTER VIII.

TIME AND CHANGE.

1. Let not another's vice be thy evil. For thou wast

not born to be abject with others, or unfortunate with
others, but to prosper with them. But if anyone is
unfortunate, remember that it is of his own doing.
For God hath made all men to be happy, and of good
estate. For this end hath he granted means and
occasions, giving some things to each man as his own
concern, and some things as alien; and the things
that are hindered and subject to compulsion and loss
are not his own concern, and those that are unhindered
are ; and the substance of Good and of Evil, as it
were worthy of him that careth for us and doth pro
tect us as a father, he hath placed among our own
concerns.
2. "But I have parted from such a one, and
he is grieved."
For why did he deem things alien to be his
own concern ? Why, when he rejoiced to see thee
did he not reason that thou wert mortal, and too
apt to travel to another land ? Therefore doth he
124 EPICTETUS.
pay the penalty of his own folly. But thou, for what
cause or reason dost thou bewail thyself ? Hast thou
also given no thought to these things ; but like silly
women consorted with all that pleased thee as though
thou shouldst consort with them forever, places and
persons and pastimes ? and now thou sittest weeping,
because thou canst see the same persons and frequent
the same place no longer. This, truly, is what thou
art fit for, to be more wretched than crows and ravens
that can fly whithersoever they please, and change
their nests, and pass across the seas, nor ever lament
nor yearn for what they have left.
"Yea, but they are thus because they are
creatures without reason."
To us, then, was Reason given by the Gods for our
misfortune and misery 1 that we should be wretched
and sorrowful forever ? Let all men be immortal, for
sooth, and no man migrate to another land, nor let us
ourselves ever migrate, but remain rooted to one spot
like plants ; and if one of our companions go, let us
sit down and weep, and if he return, dance and clap
hands like children !
3. Shall we not now at last wean ourselves, and
remember what we heard from the philosophers ? if,
indeed, we did not listen to them as a wizard's incan
tation. For they said that the universe is one Polity,
and one is the substance out of which it is made, and
there must, of necessity, be a certain cycle, and some
things must give place to others, some dissolving away,
and others coming into being, some abiding in one
place, and others being in motion. But all things are
 TIME AND CHANGE. 125

full of love, first of the Gods, then of men, that are by

nature made to have affection towards each other ;
and it must needs be that some dwell with each other,
and some are separated, rejoicing in those who are
with them, and not distressed for those who go away.
And man, they said, is magnanimous by nature, and
contemneth all things beyond the Will ; and hath also
this quality, not to be rooted to one spot, nor grown
into the earth, but able to go from place to place,
sometimes urged by divers needs, sometimes for the
sake of what he shall see.
4. And such was the case with Ulysses :—

" The cities of many peoples and minds of men he knew."

— Od. i. 3.

And yet earlier with Hercules, who went about the

whole earth—
" All disorders of men and orderly rule to see,"
— Od. xvii. 487.

casting out and purging the one, and bringing in the

other in its place. And how many friends, think
you, he had in Thebes ? how many in Argos ? how
many in Athens ? and how many did he gain in his
journeyings? And he took a wife, too, when it
seemed to him due time, and begat children, and left
them behind him, not with lamentations or regrets,
nor leaving them as orphans ; for he knew that no
man is an orphan, but that there is an Eternal Father
who careth continually for all. For not of report
alone had he heard that Zeus is the Father of men,
126 EPICTETUS.
whom also he thought to be his own father, and
called him so, and all that he did, he did looking unto
him. And thus it was that he was able to live
happily in every place.
5. For never can happiness and the longing for
what is not exist together. For Happiness must have
all its will. It is like unto one that hath eaten and is
filled; thirst will not sort with it, nor hunger. But
Ulysses longed for his wife, and lamented as he sat on
the rock.1 And do you, then, follow Homer and his
stories in everything ? Or if he did in truth lament,
what else was he than an unfortunate man ? And
what good man is unfortunate ? Verily, the Whole is
ill-governed if Zeus taketh no care of his own citizens,
that they like himself may be happy ; but these things
it is not lawful nor pious even to think of. But Ulysses,
if indeed he lamented and complained, was not a good
man. For what good man is there that knoweth not
who he is ? and who knoweth this who forgets that
things which come into existence also perish, and that
no two human beings dwell together for ever 1 To aim,
then, at things which are impossible is a contemptible
and foolish thing ; it is the part of a stranger and alien
in God's world who fights against God in the one way
he can—by his own opinions.
6. But my mother laments if she sees me not. And
wherefore hath she never learned these teachings?
Yet, I say not that it is no concern of ours to prevent
her grieving ; but that we should not absolutely, and
without exception, desire what is not our own. And
the grief of another is another's, and my grief is mine
 TIME AND CHANGE. 127
own. I will, therefore, absolutely end mine own
grief, for this I can ; and that of another according to
my means, but this I will not attempt absolutely.
For otherwise I shall be fighting with God. I shall
be opposing and resisting him in the government of
the Whole ; and of this strife against God, this
obstinacy, not only my children's children, but I
myself, too, shall pay the penalty by day and night ;
for I shall leap from my bed at visions of the night,
confounded, trembling at every news, having my peace
at the mercy of letters of other persons. A messenger
hath come from Rome ; God grant it be no evil. But
what evil can come upon thee there, where thou art
not 1 There is a message from Greece ; God grant it
be no evil. And thus to thee every place may be a
source of misfortune. Is it not enough for thee to be
unfortunate where thou art, and not also across the
sea, and by writings ? Is this the security of thine
affairs ? But what if my friends which are abroad die
there ? What else than that creatures destined to die
have died 1 And how dost thou desire to live to old
age, and never to see the death of any whom thou
lovest ? Knowest thou not that in a great length of
time many and various things must chance; that a
fever shall overthrow one, and a robber another, and
a tyrant another ? Such is our environment, such our
companions; cold and heat, and improper ways of
living, and journeyings, and voyagings, and winds, and
various circumstances will destroy one man, and exile
another, and cast another into an embassy, and
another into a campaign. Sit down, then, terrified
128 EPICTETUS.
at all these things ; grieve and fail, and be unfortu
nate ; depend on others, and that not on one or two,
but myriads upon myriads.
7. Is this what you heard, is this what you learned
from the philosophers? Know you not that our
business here is a warfare ? and one must watch, and
one go out as a spy, and one must fight ? All cannot
be the same thing, nor would it be better if they
were. But you neglect to do the bidding of the
commander, and complain when he hath laid some
what rougher than common upon you ; and you mark
not what, so far as in you lies, you are making the
army to become, so that if all copy you, none will dig
a trench, none will cast up a rampart, none will
watch, none will run any risk, but each will appear
worthless for warfare. Again, in a ship, if you go for
a sailor, take up one place, and never budge from it ;
and if you are wanted to go aloft, refuse ; or to run
upon the prow, refuse ; and what captain will have
patience with you ? Will he not cast you out like
some useless thing, nothing else than a hindrance and
bad example to the other sailors ?
8. And thus here also : the life of every man is a
sort of warfare, and a long one, and full of divers
chances. And it behoveth a man to play a soldier's
part, and do all at the nod of his commander ; yea,
and if it be possible, to divine what he intendeth.
For that commander is not such a one as this, neither
in power nor in exaltation of character. You are set
in a great office, and in no mean place, but are a
Senator for ever. Know you not that such a one can
 TIME AND CHANGE. 129
attend but little to his household, but he must bo
oftentimes abroad, ruling or being ruled, or fulfilling
some office, or serving in the field, or judging ? And
will you, then, desire to be fixed and rooted like a
plant in the same place ? For it is pleasant. Who
denies it ? But so is a dainty pleasant, and a fair
woman is pleasant. How otherwise are those wont
to speak who make pleasure their end 1 See you not
what kind of men they are whose words you utter ?
They are the words of Epicureans and profligates.
And doing the works of these men, and holding their
doctrines, wilt thou speak to us with the speech of
Zeno and Socrates ?
9. Will you not fling away from you as far as you
can these alien sentiments wherewith you adorn
yourself, which beseem you not at alii What
other desire have such men than to sleep their fill
unhindered, and when they have risen, to yawn for
languor, and wash their face, and write and read
whatever pleaseth them ; then have some trivial talk,
and be praised by their friends, whatever they say ;
then go forth to walk about, and having done this a
little, go to the baths; then eat; then retire to rest —
such a rest as is the wont of such men, and why need
we say what, for it is easily guessed ? Come, tell me,
then, thine own way of life, such as thou desirest, O
thou votary of the truth, and of Socrates and
Diogenes ! What wilt thou do in Athens ? these very
things, or others ? Why then, dost declare thyself a
Stoic ? Are not they sorely punished which falsely
pretend to be Roman citizens ; and should those go
545
r3o EP1CTETUS.
free who falsely pretend to so great and reverend a
calling and name 1 or let this indeed be impossible;
but this is the law, divine and mighty, and not to be
escaped, that layeth the greatest punishments on the
greatest sinners. For what saith this law 1 He who
pretendeth to things that are not his own, let him be
a cheat and braggart; he that is disobedient to the
divine government, let him be an abject, a slave, let
him grieve and envy and pity 2—in a word, let him be
misfortunate, and mourn.
10. "And now will you have me attend upon
such a one, and hang about his doors ? "
If Reason demand it, for the sake of country, of
kinsmen, of mankind, wherefore shouldst thou not
go ? Thou art not ashamed to go to the doors of a
cobbler when thou art in want of shoes, nor to those
of a gardener for lettuces; and why to those of a
rich man when thou art in need of some like thing ?
" Yea, but I have no awe of the cobbler."
Then have none of the rich.
" Nor will I flatter the gardener."
And do not flatter the rich.
" How, then, shall I gain what I want ? "
Did £ say to thee, Go, for the sake of gaining it ;
or did I not only say, Go, that thou mayest do what it
beseems thee to do.
"And why, then, should I yet go ? "
That thou mayest have gone ; that thou mayest
have played the part of a citizen, of a brother, of a
friend. And, for the rest, remember that the shoe
maker, the vegetable-seller, to whom thou didst go,
 TIME AND CHANGE. 131
hath nothing great or exalted to give, even though he
sell it dear. Thy aim was lettuces ; they are worth an
obol, they are not worth a talent. And so it is here.
Is the matter worth going to the rich man's door for \
So be it; I will go. Is it worth speaking to him
about ? So be it ; I will speak. But must I also kiss
his hand, and fawn upon him with praise ? Out upon
it ! that is a talent's worth. It is no profit to me, nor
to the State, nor to my friends, that they should lose
a good citizen and friend.
11. "How, then, shall I become of an affec
tionate disposition 1 "
In having a generous and happy one. For Keason
doth never decree that a man must be abject, or
lament, or depend on another, or blame God or
man. And thus be thou affectionate, as one who
will keep this faith. But if through this affection,
or what happens to be so called by thee, thou art like
to prove a miserable slave, then it shall not profit
thee to be affectionate. And what hinders us to love
as though we loved a mortal, or one who may depart
to other lands ? Did Socrates not love his children ?
Yea, but as a free man ; as one who remembered that
he must first love the Gods. And, therefore, he never
did transgress anything that it becomes a good man
to observe, neither in his defence, nor in fixing his
punishment, nor before time when he was of the
Council, nor when he was serving in the field. But
we are well supplied with every excuse for baseness ;
some through children, some through mothers, some
through brothers. But it behoveth no man to be
132 EPICTETUS.
unhappy through any person, but happy through all,
and most of all through God, which hath framed us
to that end.
12. And, for the rest, in all things which are
delightful to thee, set before thyself the appearances
that oppose them. What harm is it, while kissing thy
child to whisper, To-morrow thou shalt die; and
likewise with thy friend, To-morrow thou shalt depart,
either thou or I, and we shall see each other no more ?
" But these are words of ill-omen."
And so are some incantations, but in that they are
useful I regard not this ; only let them be of use.
But dost thou call anything of ill-omen, save only that
which betokeneth some evil ? Cowardice is a word of
ill-omen, and baseness and grief and mourning and
shamelessness, these words are of ill-omen. And not
even them must we dread to speak, if so we may
defend ourselves against the things. But wilt thou
say that any word is of ill-omen that betokeneth some
natural thing ? Say that it is of ill-omen to speak of
the reaping of ears of corn, for it betokeneth the
destruction of the ears—but not of the universe. Say
that the falling of the leaves is of ill-omen, and the
dried fig coming in the place of the green, and raisins
in the place of grapes. For all these things are
changes from the former estate to another ; no
destruction, but a certain appointed order and disposi
tion. Here is parting for foreign lands, and a little
change. Here is death—a greater change, not from
that which now is to that which is not, but to that
which is not now.
 ON SOLITUDE. 133

CHAPTER IX.

ON SOLITUDE.

1. Solitude is the state of one who is helpless.

For he who is alone is not therefore solitary ; even as
he who is in a great company is not therefore not
solitary. When, therefore, we have lost a brother or
a son or a friend on whom we were wont to rest, we
say that we are left solitary, and oftentimes we say it
in Rome, with such a crowd meeting us and so many
dwelling about us, and, it may be, having a multitude
of slaves. For the solitary man, in his conception,
meaneth to be thought helpless, and laid open to those
who wish him harm. Therefore when we are on a
journey we then, above all, say that we are solitary
when we are fallen among thieves ; for that which
taketh away solitude is not the sight of a man, but
of a faithful and pious and serviceable man. For if
to be solitary it sufficeth to be alone, then say that
Zeus is solitary in the conflagration,1 and bewails
himself. Woe is me I I have neither Hera nor Athene
nor Apollo, nor, in short, either brother or son or
descendant or kinsman. And so some say he doth
when alone in the conflagration. For they compre
hend not the life of a man who is alone, setting out
from a certain natural principle, that we are by nature
social, and inclined to love each other, and pleased to
be in the company of other men. But none the less
"is it needful that one find the means to this also, to

r
134 EPICTETUS.

be able to suffice to himself, and to be his own

companion. For as Zeus is his own companion, and
is content with himself, and considereth his own
government, what it is, and is occupied in designs
worthy of himself ; thus should we be able to
converse with ourselves, and feel no need of others,
nor want means to pass the time ; but to observe the
divine government, and the relation of ourselves with
other things ; to consider how we stood formerly
towards the events that befall us, and how we stand
now ; what things they are that still afflict us ; how
these, too, may be healed, how removed ; and if aught
should need perfecting, to perfect it according to the
reason of the case.
2. Ye see now, how that Caesar seemeth to have
given us a great peace ; how there are no longer wars
nor battles nor bands of robbers nor of pirates, but a
man may travel at every season, and sail from east to
west. But can he give us peace from fever ? or from
shipwreck ? or from fire ? or earthquake ? or light
ning 1 aye, or from love ? He cannot. Or from
grief ? He cannot. Or from envy ? He cannot.
Briefly, then, he cannot secure us from any of such
things. But the word of the philosophers doth
promise us peace even from these things. And what
saith it ? If ye will hearken unto me, 0 men, whereso
ever ye be, whatsoever ye do, ye shall not grieve, ye shall
not be wroth, ye shall not be compelled or hindered, but
ye shall live untroubled and free from every ill. Who
soever hath this peace, which Caesar never proclaimed
(for how could he proclaim it ?), but which Cod

>
V
 ON SOLITUDE. 135
proclaimed through his word, shall he not suffice to
himself when he may be alone ? for he beholdeth and
considereth, Now can no evil happen to me ; for me
there is no robber, no earthquake; all things are full of
peace,full of calm; for nie no way, no city, no assembly,
no neighbour, no associate hath any hurt. He is sup
plied by one, whose part that is, with food, by another
with raiment, by another with senses, by another with
natural conceptions. And when, it may be, that the
necessary things are no longer supplied, that is the
signal for retreat : the door is opened, and God saith
to thee, Depart.
"Whither?"
To nothing dreadful, but to the place from whence
thou earnest—to things friendly and akin to thee, to
the elements of Being. Whatever in thee was fire
shall go to fire ; of earth, to earth ; of air, to air ; of
water, to water;2 no Hades, nor Acheron, nor
Coeytus, nor Phlegethon, but all things are full of
Gods and Powers.3 Whoso hath these things to think
on, and seeth the sun and the moon and the stars, and
rejoiceth in the earth and the sea, he is no more
solitary than he is helpless.
" What, then, if one come and find me alone
and slay me ? "
Fool ! not thee, but thy wretched body.
3. Thou art a little soul bearing up a corpse.
4. What solitude, then, is there any longer, what
lack ? Why do we make ourselves worse than
children, which, when they are left alone, what do
they?—they take shells and sand and build up
136 EPICTETUS.

somewhat, and then throw it down, and again build up

something else, and so they never lack pastime. And
shall I, if ye sail away from me, sit down and weep
for that I am left alone and solitary 1 Shall I have
no shells nor sand? But children do these things
through their folly, and we through our wisdom are
made unhappy.

CHAPTER X.

AGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS AND REVENGEFUL.

1. To suppose that we shall become contemptible

in the eyes of others unless in some way we inflict an
injury on those who first shewed hostility to us, is the
character of most ignoble and thoughtless men. For
thus we say, that a man is to be despised according to
his inability to do hurt ; but much rather is he to be
despised according to his inability to do good.
2. The wise and good man neither strives with any
himself, nor in the measure of his power will he allow
another to strive. And in this, as in all other things,
the life of Socrates is set before us as an example ;
who did not only himself fly all contention, but also
forbade it to others. See in Xenophon's Symposium
how many quarrels he ended ; and, again, how he bore
with Thrasymachus, and how with Polus and with
Callicles ; and how he endured his wife, and how his
son, which opposed him with sophistical arguments.
 AGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS. 137
For he remembered very well that no man can
command the ruling faculty of another.
3. How then, is there yet any place for contention
in one so minded ? For what event can amaze him ?
what appear strange to him ? Doth he not look for
even worse and more grievous things at the hands of
evil men than do befall him? Doth he not count
everything for gain which is short of the extreme of
injury ? Hath such a one reviled thee 1 Much thanks
to him that he did not strike thee. But he did also
strike me. Much thanks that he did not wound thee.
But he did also wound me. Much thanks that he did
not slay thee. For when did he learn, or from whom,
that he was a tame animal, and affectionate to others,
and that to the wrongdoer the wrongdoing itself is a
heavy injury ? For since he hath not learned these
things, nor believes them, wherefore should he not
follow that which appears to be his advantage 1 Thy
neighbour hath flung stones ? Hast thou, then, sinned
in aught ? But he has broken things in the house ?
And art thou a household vessel ? Nay—but a
Will.
4. What, then, hath been given thee for this
occasion? To a wolf it were given to bite—to fling
more stones. But if thou seek what is becoming for
a man, look into thy stores, see what faculties thou
hast come here furnished withal. Hast thou the
nature of a wild beast ? the temper of revenge ?
5. When is a horse in wretched case ? When he is
bereaved of his natural faculties ; not when he cannot
crow, but when he cannot run. When is a dog ?
138 EPICTETUS.
Not when he cannot fly, but when he cannot track.
Is not a man, then, also thus wretched, not when he
cannot strangle lions or embrace statues1—for to this
he came endowed with no faculties by Nature—but
when he hath lost his honesty, his faithfulness ?
Surely we should meet together and lament over such
a man ; so great are the evils into which he hath
fallen. Not, indeed, that we should lament for his
birth, or for his death, but in that while yet living
he hath suffered the loss of his own true possessions.
I speak not of his paternal inheritance, not of his
land, or his house, or his inn, or his slaves (for not
one of these things is the true possession of a man,
but all are alien, servile, subject, given now to some,
now to others, by those that can command them) ; but
of his human qualities, the stamps of his spirit where
with he came into the world. Even such we seek for
also on coins, and if we find them we approve the
coins ; if not, we cast them away. What is the stamp
of this sestertius ? The stamp of Trajan. Then give
it me. The stamp of Nero? Fling it away—it will
not pass, it is bad. And so here too. What is the
stamp of his mind ? He is gentle, social, forbearing,
affectionate. Come, then, I receive him, I admit him
to citizenship, I receive him as a neighbour, a fellow-
traveller. See to it only that he have not Nero's
stamp. Is he wrathful, revengeful, complaining?
Doth he, when it may seem good to him, break the
heads of all who stand in his way ? Why, then, did'st
thou say he was a man? Shall everything be judged
by the bare form 1 If so, then say that a wax apple
 AGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS. 139
is a real apple, and that it has the smell and taste of
an apple. But the outward shape doth not suffice,
nor are eyes and nose enough to make a man, but he
is a man only if he have a man's mind. Here is one
that will not hear reason, that will not submit when
he is confuted—he is an ass. In another, reverence
hath died—he is worthless, anything rather than a
man. This one seeketh whom he may meet and kick
or bite—so that he is not even a sheep or an ass,
but some kind of savage beast.
6. But this is the nature of every creature, to pur
sue the Good and fly the Evil ; and to hold every man
an enemy and a plotter for our woe, were it even a
brother, or son, or father, who takes away from us the
one, or brings us into the other. For nothing is nearer
or dearer to us than the Good. It remains, therefore,
if outward things be good and evil, that a father is no
longer the friend of his sons, nor the brother of his
brother, but every place is full of enemies and plotters
and slanderers. But if the only Good is that the Will
should be as it ought to be, and the only Evil as it
ought not, where is there then any place for strife, for
reviling? For about what things shall we strive?
about those that are nothing to us ? and with whom ?
with the ignorant, the unhappy, with men who are
deceived concerning the greatest things ?
7. Remembering these thing, Socrates managed his
own household, enduring a most shrewish wife and an
undutiful son. For these doctrines make love in a
household, and concord in a State, peace among
nations, and gratitude towards God, with boldness in

i
r
i4o EPICTETUS.
every place, as of one who hath to do with things
alien to him, and of no estimation. And we are the
men to write and read these things, and to applaud
them when they are delivered to us, but to the belief
of them we have not even come near. And there
fore that saying concerning the Lacedaemonians,
" Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes,"*

will fit us too—lions in the school and foxes without.

End of Book. IIL

 BOOK IV.

CHAPTER I.

OF RELIGION.

1. Of religion towards the Gods, know that the

chief element is to have right opinions concerning
them, as existing and governing the whole in fair
order and justice ; and then to set thyself to obey
them, and to yield to them in each event, and submit
to it willingly, as accomplished under the highest
counsels. For so shalt thou never blame the Gods,
nor accuse them, as being neglectful of thee.
2. But this may come to pass in no other way than
by placing Good and Evil in the things that are in
our own power, and withdrawing them from those
that are not ; for if thou take any of these things to
be good or evil, then when thou shalt miss thy desire,
or fall into what thou desirest not, it is altogether
necessary that thou blame and hate those who caused
thee to do so.
3. For every living thing was so framed by Nature
as to flee and turn from things, and the causes of
things, that appear hurtful, and to follow and admire
things, and the causes of things, that appear service
able. For it is impossible that one who thinketh
i42 EPICTETUS.
himself harmed should delight in that seemeth to
harm him, even as he cannot delight in the very
harm itself.
4. And thus it comes that a father is reviled by his
son when he will not give him of the things that
appear to be good. And this it was that set Polyneices
and Eteocles at war with each other—the opinion,
namely, that royalty is a good. And through this the
Gods are railed on by the husbandman and the sailor,
by the merchant, and men who lose their wives or
children. For where advantage is, there also is
religion. Thus he who is careful to pursue and
avoid as he ought, is careful, at the same time, of
religion.
5. But it is fitting also that every man should pour
libations and offer sacrifices and first-fruits after the
customs of his fathers, purely, and not languidly nor
negligently, nor, indeed, scantily, nor yet beyond his
means.

CHAPTER II.

OF PROVIDENCE.

1. Concerning the Gods, there are some who say

that a divine being does not exist; and others, that
it exists indeed, but is idle and uncaring, and hath no
forethought for anything ; and a third class say that
there is such a Being, and he taketh forethought also,
 OF PROVIDENCE. 143
but only in respect of great and heavenly things, but of
nothing that is on the earth ; and a fourth class, that
he taketh thought both of things in heaven and earth,
but only in general, and not of each thing severally.
And there is a fifth class, whereof are Odysseus and
Socrates, who say, Nor can I move without thy
knowledge.1
2. Before all things, then, it is necessary to investi
gate each of these opinions, whether it be justly
affirmed or no. For if there be no Gods, how can the
following of the Gods be an end ? And if there are
Gods, but such as take no care for anything, then also
how can the following of them be truly an end 1 And
how, again, if the Gods both exist and take care for
things, yet if there be no communication from them
to men, yea, by Zeus, and even to mine own self ? The
wise and good man, having investigated all these
things, will submit his own mind to Him that
governeth the Whole, even as good citizens to the laws
of their State.
3. But a certain man having inquired how one
could be persuaded that every one of his actions is
observed by God, Doth it not appear to you, said
Epictetus, that all things are united in One 1
" It doth so appear."
What then ? Think you not that a sympathy exists
between heavenly and earthly things 1
"I do think it."
For how else do plants, as if at the command of
God, when he bids them, flower in due season ? and
shoot forth when he bids them shoot, and bear fruit
i44 EPICTETUS.
when he bids them bear ? and ripen when he bids
them ripen? and again they drop their fruit when
he bids them drop it, and shed their leaves when he
bids them shed them? and how else at his bidding
do they fold themselves together, and remain motion
less and at rest ? And how else at the waxing and
waning of the moon, and the approach and withdrawal
of the sun, do we behold such a change and reversal
in earthly things ? But are the plants and our bodies
so bound up in the whole, and have sympathy with it,
and are our spirits not much more so ? And our souls
being thus bound up and in touch with God, seeing,
indeed, that they are portions and fragments of him,
shall not every movement of them, inasmuch as it is
something inward and akin to God, be perceived by
him ? But you are able to meditate upon the divine
government, and upon all divine and all human affairs,
and to be affected at the same time in the senses and
in the intellect by ten thousand things, and at the
same time to assent to some and dissent to others, or
suspend your judgment; and you preserve in your
mind so many impressions of so many and various
things, and being affected by them, you strike upon
ideas similar to earlier impressions, and you retain
many different arts, and memories of ten thousand
things ; and shall not God have the power to over
look all things, and be present with all, and have a
certain communication with all ? But is the sun able
to illuminate so great a part of the AH, and to leave
so little without light,—that part, namely, which is
filled with the shadow of the earth—and shall He
 OF PROVIDENCE. 145

who made the sun, and guideth it in its sphere—a

small part of Him beside the Whole—shall He not
be capable of perceiving all things ?
4. But I, saith the man, cannot take heed of all these
things at once. And who said you could do this ? that
you had equal powers with God ? But, nevertheless,
He hath placed at every man's side a Guardian, the
genius of each man,2 who is charged to watch over
him, a genius that cannot sleep, nor be deceived. To
what greater and more watchful guardian could he
have committed us ? So, when ye have shut the doors,
and made darkness in the house, remember never to
say that ye are alone ; for ye are not alone, but God is
there, and your genius is there ; and what need have
these of light to mark what ye are doing ? To this
God it were fitting also that ye should swear an oath,
as soldiers do to Caesar. But those indeed who
receive pay swear to prefer the safety of Cassar before
all things ; but ye, receiving so many and great things,
will ye not swear ? or swearing, will ye not abide by
it? And what shall ye swear? Never to disobey,
never to accuse, never to blame aught that He hath
given, never unwillingly to do or suffer any necessary
thing. Is this oath like unto that other ? The soldiers
swear to esteem no other man before Caesar; ye to
esteem yourselves above all.

546
146 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER III.

OF PllOVIDENCE.

1. Marvel not if the other animals have all things

that are needful for the body without preparation,
not alone food and drink, but sleeping places also, and
they have no need of shoes, nor bedding, nor raiment,
while all these things must needs be added to us.
For these creatures exist not for themselves, but for
service ; it were not expedient that they had been
made with need of such additions. For, look you,
what a task it were for us to take thought, not for
ourselves alone, but also for the sheep and the asses,
how they should be clad, how shod, how they should
cat, how they should drink ! But as soldiers are
ready for their commands, shod, and clothed, and
accoutred, it would be a grievous thing if each
captain of a thousand must go round and shoe or
clothe his thousand ; so also hath Nature formed the
animals that are made for service, ready equipped,
and needing no further care. And thus one little
child with a rod will drive the sheep.
2. But now we, neglecting to be grateful, for that
we need not attend to the animals equally with our
selves, do accuse God for our own lack. And yet,
by Zeus and all the Gods, there is no one thing in the
frame of Nature but would give, at least to a reverent
and grateful spirit, enough for the perceiving of the
Providence of God. And to speak of no great things
 OF PROVIDENCE. 147
now, consider this alone, how milk is produced from
grass, and cheese from milk, and wool from skins. Who
is he that hath made these things or planned them? No
one, sayest thou ? O monstrous impudence and dulness !
3. Well, then, let the large works of Nature pass,
and let us look only at her by-works. Is there aught
more useless than the hairs on the chin ? What then ?
hath she not made such use even of these, that
nothing could be comelier ? hath she not by them
distinguished male from female? Doth not the
nature of every man cry aloud even at a distance, I
am a man, thus shalt thou approach me, thus speak to
me, look for nothing else ; behold the tokens ! And
again in women, as Nature hath mingled something
of softness in the voice, so she hath taken away the
hairs. Nay, will you say ? but every creature should
have been left undistinguished, and each of us should
proclaim, " I am a man ? " But how beautiful is not
the token, and becoming, and reverend? how much
more beautiful than the cock's comb? how much
more becoming than the lion's mane ? Wherefore it
behoveth us to preserve God's tokens, nor to fling
them away, nor to confound, as far as in us lies, the
things that distinguish the sexes.
4. Are these the only works of Providence in us ?—
but what may suffice to rightly praise and tell them ?
For had we understanding thereof, would any other
thing better beseem us, either in compaiiy or alone,
than to hymn the Divine Being, and laud Him and
rehearse His gracious deeds? Should we not, as we
dig or plough or eat, sing this hymn to God, Great is
i48 EPICTETUS.
God, who hath given us such instruments whereby we
shall till the earth : great is God, who hath given us
hands, and swallowing, and the belly ; who malceth us
to grow without our knowledge, and to breathe while
we sleep. These things it were fitting that every man
should sing, and to chant the greatest and divinest
hymns for this, that He hath given us the power to
observe and consider His works and a Way wherein
to walk.1 What then? since the most of you have
become blind, should there not be one to fill this place,
and in the name of all to sing this hymn to God ?
For what else can I do, an old man and lame, than
sing hymns to God ? If I were a nightingale I would
do after the nature of a nightingale ; if a swan, after
that of a swan. But now I am a reasoning creature,
and it behoves me to sing the praise of God : this is
my task, and this I do, nor, as long as it is granted
me, will I ever abandon this post. And you, too, I
summon to join me in the same song.

CHAPTER IV.

GOD IN MAN.

1. God is beneficial. But the Good is also bene

ficial. It is likely, then, that where the essence of
God is, there also should be the essence of the Good.
And what is the essence of God 1 Flesh ? God forbid.
 GOD IN MAN. no
A property in land ? God forbid. Fame ? God forbid.
Mind, Intelligence, Right Reason? Even so. Here,
then, once for all, seek the essence of the Good. For
surely you will in no wise seek it in a plant?
Nay. Or in any unreasoning creature ? Nay. If,
then, it is sought in a reasoning creature, where
fore continue to seek it anywhere else than in
the difference between reasoning and unreasoning
creatures ?
2. The plants have not so much as the use of
appearances, therefore we speak not of the Good in
their regard. The Good, then, needs the power of
using appearances. And this alone ? Nay ; for if so,
say then that Good and Happiness and Unhappiness
are with the lower animals too. But this you will not
say, and you are right ; for though they possessed the
use of appearances in the highest degree, yet the
observing and considering of this use they do not
possess, and naturally so, for they exist to serve
others, nor have any supreme object in themselves.1
For the ass was not made for any supreme object in
himself 1 Nay, but he was made able to bear, because
we had need of a back ; and, by Zeus, we had need
moreover that he should walk ; wherefore he received
also the power to use appearances, else had he not
been able to walk. And thereupon the matter
stopped. For had he also received the observing and
considering of the use of appearances, it is clear
that in reason he could no longer have been subject
to us, nor have served those needs of ours, but he had
been our equal and our like.
ISO EPICTETUS.

3. For use is one thing, and observation and study is

another. God had need of the other animals to use
appearances, hut of us to observe and study appear
ances. Wherefore it is enough for them to eat and
drink, and rest and breed, and do whatever else each
of them performs, but to us, to whom the faculty of
observing and studying hath also been given, these
things are not enough ; but unless we act after a
certain manner and ordinance, and conformably to
the nature and constitution of man, we shall never
attain the end of our being. For when the constitu
tion is different, different there also is the task and the
end. When, therefore, the constitution is one for use
alone, then the use, of whatever kind it be, is enough ;
but where there is also observing and studying of the
use, then, unless the due employment of this faculty
lie added, the end shall never be gained. What
then ? God hath constituted every other animal,
one to be eaten, another to serve for tilling the land,
another to yield cheese, another to some kindred use ;
for which things what need is there of the observing
and studying of appearances, and the ability to make
distinctions in them? But man he hath brought in
to be a spectator of God and of His works, and not a
spectator alone, but an interpreter of them. Where
fore it is shameful for a man to begin and to end
where creatures do that are without Reason ; but
rather should he begin when they begin, and end
where Nature ends in ourselves. But she ends in
contemplation, in observing and studying, in a manner
of life that is in harmony with Nature. See to it
 GOD IN MAN. 151
then that ye die not without having been spectators
of these things.
4. Seek, then, the essence of the Good there, where
if it be not, thou wilt not say that the Good is in any
other thing.
5. But what ? are not those creatures also works of
God ? Surely ; yet not supreme objects, yet not
parts of the Gods. But thou art a supreme object,
thou art a piece of God, thou hast in thee something
that is a portion of Him. Why, then, art thou igno
rant of thy high ancestry ? Why knowest thou not
whence thou earnest ? Wilt thou not remember, in
thine eating, who it is that eats, and whom thou dost
nourish? in cohabiting, who it is that cohabits? in
converse, in exercise, in argument, knowest thou not
that thou art nourishing a God, exercising a God ?
Unhappy man ! thou bearest about with thee a God,
and knowest it not ! Thinkest thou I speak of some
God of gold and silver, and external to thee ? Nay, but
in thyself thou dost bear him, and seest not that thou
dcfilest him with thine impure thoughts and filthy
deeds. In the presence even of an image of God thou
hadst not dared to do one of those things which thou
dost. But in the presence of God himself within
thee, who seeth and heareth all things, thou art not
ashamed of the things thou dost both desire and do, O
thou unwitting of thine own nature, and subject to
the wrath of God !
6. Why, then, do we fear in sending forth a young
man from the school into some of the business of
life, lest he should do wrong in anything, and be

r
152 EPICTETUS.

luxurious or profligate, and lest a wrapping of rags

degrade him, or fine raiment uplift him ? Such a one
knoweth not his own God, nor with whom he is
setting out. But can we have patience with him,
saying, Would that I had you with me /* And hast
thou not God with thee there ? or having Him, dost
thou seek for any other ? or will He speak other
things to thee than even these ?
7. But wert thou a statue of Pheidias, an Athena
or Zeus, then wert thou mindful hoth of thyself
and of the artist ; and if thou hadst any conscious
ness, thou wouldst strive to do nothing unworthy of
thy maker nor of thyself, nor ever to appear in any
unseemly guise. But now that Zeus hath made thee,
thou carest therefore nothing what kind of creature
thou showest thyself for ? And yet, is the one Artist
like the other artist, or the one work like the other
work ? And what kind of work is that which hath
in itself the faculties that were manifest in the
making of it ? Do not artists work in stone or brass
or gold or ivory ? and the Athena of Pheidias, when
she hath once stretched out her hand and received
upon it the figure of Victory, standeth thus for all
time 1 But the works of God have motion and breath
ing, and the use of appearances and the judgment of
them. Wilt thou dishonour such a Maker, whose
work thou art ? Nay, for not only did He make
thee, but to thee alone did He trust and commit thyself.
Wilt thou not remember this too, or wilt thou dis
honour thy charge ? But if God had committed some
orphan child to thee, wouldst thou have neglected it ?
 GOD IN MAN. 153

Now he hath given thee to thyself, and saith, / had

none more worthy of trust than thee; keep this man
such as he was made by nature—reverent, faithful,
high, unterrified, unshaken of passions, untroubled.
And thou wilt not.
8. But they may say : Whence doth this fellow bring
us that eye of scorn and solemn looks ? I have it not
yet as I should. For I am yet unbold in those things
which I have learned and assented to ; I yet fear my
weakness. But let me be bold in them, and then ye
shall see such a look, such a guise, as behoveth me to
wear. Then shall I show you the statue when it is
perfected and polished. What look ye for ?—an eye
of scorn ? God forbid ! For doth the Zeus in Olympia
look scornfully ?—nay, but his glance is steadfast, as
becometh him who will say,
" None trusts in vain my irrevocable word."—11. i. 526.

Such will I show myself to you—faithful, reverent,

generous, untroubled. Not also, then, deathless, ageless,
diseaseless? Nay, but dying as God, sickening as a
God. These I have, these I can ; but other things I
neither have nor can. I will show you the thews of
a philosopher. And what are these ? A pursuit that
never fails, an avoidance that never miscarries, seemly
desire, studious resolve, cautious assent.8 These shall
ye see.
154 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER V.

OF DIVINATION.1

1. When thou goest to inquire of an oracle, remem

ber that what the event will be thou knowest not, for
this is the thing thou art come to learn from the seer ;
but of what nature it is (if haply thou art a philo
sopher), thou knewest already in coming. For if it
be any of those things that are not in our own power,
it follows of necessity that it can be neither good nor
evil.
2. Bring, therefore, to the seer neither pursuit nor
avoidance, nor go before him with trembling, but well
knowing that all events are indifferent and nothing
to thee. For whatever it may be, it shall lie with thee
to use it nobly ; and this no man can prevent. Go,
then, with a good courage to the Gods as to counsellors ;
and for the rest, when anything hath been counselled
thee, remember of whom thou hast taken counsel,
and whom thou wilt be slighting if thou art not
obedient.
3. Therefore, as Socrates would have it, go to the
oracle for those matters only where thy whole inquiry
bendeth solely towards the event, and where there are
no means either from reason or any other art for
knowing beforehand what it shall behove thee to do.
Thus, when it may be needful to share some peril with
thy friend or thy country, inquire of no oracle whether
thou shouldst do the thing. For if the seer should
 OF DIVINATION. 155
declare that the sacrifices are inauspicious, this
signifies clearly either death, or the loss of some limb,
or banishment ; yet doth Reason decree that even so
thou must stand by thy friend, and share thy country's
danger.
4. Mark, therefore, that greater seer, the Pythian,
who cast out of his temple one that, when his friend
was being murdered, did not help him.2

End of Book IV.

r
 BOOK V.

CHAPTER I.

THE BEHAVIOUR OP A PHILOSOPHER.

1. Ordain for thyself forthwith a certain form and

type of conduct, which thou shalt maintain both alone
and, when it may chance, among men.
2. And for the most part keep silence, or speak
only what is necessary, and in few words. But when
occasion may call thee to speak, then speak, but
sparingly, and not about any subject at hap-hazard,
nor about gladiators, nor horse races, nor athletes, nor
things to eat and drink, which are talked of every
where ; but, above all, not about men, as blaming or
praising or comparing them.
If, then, thou art able, let thy discourse draw that
of the company towards what is seemly and good.
But if thou find thyself apart among men of another
sort, keep silence.
3. Laugh not much, nor at many things, nor
unrestrainedly.
4. Refuse altogether, if thou canst, to take an oath ;
if thou canst not, then as the circumstances allow.1
5. Shun banquets given by strangers and by the
 BEHAVIOUR OF A PHILOSOPHER. 157
vulgar. But if any occasion bring thee to them, give
strictest heed, lest thou fall unawares into the ways of
the vulgar. For know that if thy companion be
corrupt, he who hath conversation with him must
needs be corrupted also, even if himself should chance
to be pure.
6. Hath any of you the art of a lute-player when he
takes the lute in his hand, so as at once when he hath
touched the strings to know which are out of tune,
and then to tune the instrument ?—such a gift as
Socrates had, who in every company could lead those
that were with him to his own topic ? - Whence
should you have it ? but ye must needs be carried
about hither and thither by the vulgar. And where
fore, then, are they stronger than ye 1 For that they
speak their sorry stuff from belief ; but ye, your fine
talk from the lips out. Wherefore it is flat and dead ;
and sickening it is to hear your exhortations and this
wretched virtue of yours, which is prated of in every
quarter. And thus the vulgar conquer you. For
everywhere belief is mighty, belief is invincible.
Until then the right opinions are hardened in you ;
and until ye shall have gained a certain strength for
your safety, I counsel you to mingle cautiously with
the vulgar, else every day, like wax in the sun, shall
whatever hath been written in you in the school be
melted away.
7. In things that concern the body accept only so
far as the bare need—as in food, drink, clothing,
habitation, servants. But all that makes for glory or
luxury thou must utterly proscribe.
158 EPICTETUS.
8. Concerning intercourse of the sexes, it is right to
be pure before marriage, to the best of thy power.
But, using it, let a man have to do only with what is
lawful. Yet be not grievous to those who use such
pleasures, nor censorious ; nor be often putting thyself
forward as not using them.
9. If one shall bear thee word that such a one hath
spoken evil of thee, then do not defend thyself against
his accusations, but make answer : He little knew my
other vices, or he had not mentioned only these.
10. There is no necessity to go often to the arena,
but if occasion should take thee there, do not appear
ardent on any man's side but thine own ; that is to
say, choose that only to happen which does happen,
and that the conqueror may be simply he who wins ;
for so shalt thou not bo thwarted. But from shout
ing and laughing at this or that, or violent gesticula
tion, thou must utterly abstain. And when thou art
gone away, converse little on the things that have
passed, so far as they make not for thine own
correction. For from that it would appear that
admiration of the spectacle had overcome thee.
11. Go not freely nor indiscriminately to recita
tions.2 But if thou go, then preserve (yet without
being grievous to others) thy gravity and calmness.
12. When thou art about to meet anyone, especially
one of those that are thought high in rank, set before
thy mind what Socrates or Zeno had done in such a
case. And so thou wilt not fail to deal as it behoves
thee with the occasion.
13. When thou goest to any of those that are great
 ON HABIT. 159
in power, set before thy mind the case that thou wilt
not find him at home, that thou wilt be shut out, that
the doors may be slammed in thy face, that he will
take no notice of thee. And if even with these things
it behoves thee to go, then go, and bear all that
happens ; and never say to thyself—It was not worth
this. For that is the part of the foolish, and of those
that are offended at outward things.
14. In company, be it far from thee to dwell much
and over-measure on thine own deeds and dangers.
For to dwell on thine own dangers is pleasant indeed
to thee, but not equally pleasant for others is it to
hear of the things that have chanced to thee.
15. Be it far from thee to move laughter. For that
habit is a slippery descent into vulgarity ;3 and it is
always enough to relax thy neighbours' respect for
thee.
16. And it is dangerous to approach to vicious
conversation. Therefore, when anything of the kind
may arise, rebuke, if there is opportunity, him who
approacheth thereto. But if not, then at least by
silence and blushing and grave looks, let it be plain
that his talk is disagreeable to thee,

CHAPTER II.

ON HABIT.

1. Every skill and faculty is maintained and in

creased by the corresponding acts ; as, the faculty of
160 EPICTETUS.

walking by walking, of running by running. If you

will read aloud well, then do it constantly ; if you
will write, then write. But when you have not read
aloud for thirty days together, but done something
else, you shall see the result. Thus, if you have lain
down for ten days, then rise up and endeavour to
walk a good distance, and you shall see how your
legs are enfeebled. In general, then, if you would
make yourself skilled in anything, then do it ; and if
you would refrain from anything, then do it not, but
use yourself to do rather some other thing instead
of it.
2. And thus it is in spiritual things also. When
thou art wrathful, know that not this single evil hath
happened to thee, but that thou hast increased the
aptness to it, and, as it were, poured oil upon the fire.
When thou art overcome in passion, think not that
this defeat is all ; but thou hast nourished thine
incontinence, and increased it. For it is impossible but
that aptitudes and faculties should spring up where
they were not before, or spread and grow mightier, by
the corresponding acts. And thus, surely, do also, as
the philosophers say, the infirmities of the soul grow
up. For when thou hast once been covetous of
money, if Reason, which leadeth to a sense of the
vice, be called to aid, then both the desire is set at
rest, and our ruling faculty is re-established, as it was
in the beginning. But if thou bring no remedy to
aid, then shall the soul return no more to the first
estate ; but when next excited by the corresponding
appearance, shall be kindled to desire even more
 ON HABIT. 161
quickly than before. And when this is continually
happening, the soul becomes callous in the end, and
through its infirmity the love of money is strengthened.
For he that hath had a fever, when the illness hath
left him, is not what he was before his fever, unless
he have been entirely healed. And somewhat on this
wise also it happens in the affections of the soul ; cer
tain traces and scars are left in it, the which if a man
do not wholly eradicate, when he hath been again
scourged on the same place, it shall make no longer
scars, but sores.
3. Wouldst thou, then, be no longer of a wrathful
temper 1 Then do not nourish the aptness to it, give it
nothing that will increase it, be tranquil from the
outset, and number the days when thou hast not been
wrathful. / have not been wrathful now for one, now
for two, now for three days; but if thou have saved
thirty days, then sacrifice to God. For the aptness is at
first enfeebled, and then destroyed. To-day I was not
vexed, nor to-morrow, nor for two or three months
together ; but I was heedful when anything happened
to move me thus. Know that thou art in good case.
To-day, when I saw a fair woman, I did not say to
myself, Would that one could possess her; nor, Happy
is her husband, for he who saith this saith also, Happy
is her paramour; nor do I picture to my mind what
should follow. But I stroke my head, and say, Well
done, Epictetus ! you have solved a fine sophism, finer
by far than the master sophism. But if she were also
willing and consenting, and sent to me, and if she also
laid hold of me, and drew near to me, and I should yet
547
162 EPICTETUS.

restrain myself and conquer, this were, indeed, then, a

sophism above the Liar, above the Quiescent. Verily,
for this a man's spirit may rightly swell, and not for
propounding the master sophism.1
4. How, then, may this come to pass ? Resolve at
last to seek thine own commendation, to appear fair
in the eyes of God ; desire to become pure with thine
own pure self, and with God. Then when thou shalt
fall in with any appearance such as we have spoken
of, what saith Plato ? Go to the purifying sacrifices,
go and pray in the temples of the protecting Gods?
It shall even suffice if thou seek the company of good
and wise men, and try thyself by one of them,
whether he be one of the living or of the dead.
5. By opposing these remedies thou shalt conquer
the appearance, nor be led captive by it. But at the
outset, be not swept away by the vehemence of it ; but
say, Await me a little, thou appearance ; let rne see
what thou art, and with what thou hast to do ; let me
approve thee. And then permit it not to lead thee
forward, and to picture to thee what should follow,
else it shall take possession of thee, and carry thee
whithersoever it will. But rather bring in against it
some other fair and noble appearance, and therewithal
cast out this vile one. And if thou use to exercise
thyself in this way, thou shalt see what shoulders and
nerves and sinews thou wilt have ! But now we have
only wordiness, and nothing more.
6. This is the true athlete,3 he who exerciseth him
self against such appearances. Hold, unhappy man !
be not swept away. Great is the contest, divine the
 ON HABIT. 163

task, for kingship, for freedom, for prosperity, for

tranquillity. Be mindful of God, call Him to be thy
helper and defender, as men at sea call upon the
Dioscuri in a storm.4 For what greater tempest
is there than that which proceedeth from appear
ances, that mightily overcome and expel the Reason ?
Yea, a storm itself, what is it but an appearance ?
For, take away only the dread of death, and bring
as many thunderings and lightnings as thou wilt,
and thou shalt see what fair weather and calm
there will be in the ruling faculty. But if having
been once defeated, thou shalt say, The next time
I will conquer; and then the same thing over
again, be sure that in the end thou wilt be brought
to such a sorry and feeble state that henceforth
thou wilt not so much as know that thou art sinning ;
but thou wilt begin to make excuses for the thing,
and then confirm that saying of Hesiod to be
true :—
" With ills unending strives the putter off."
— Works and Days, 411.
7. What then? can a man make this resolve, and so
stand up faultless ? He cannot ; but this much he
can—to be ever straining towards faultlessness. For
happy it were if, by never relaxing this industrious
heed, we shall rid ourselves of at least a few of our
faults. But now, when thou sayest, From to-morrow
I shall be heedful, know that this is what thou art
saying:—To-day I shall be shameless, importunate,
abject ; it shall be in others' power to afflict me ; to-day
I shall be wrathful, envious. Lo, to how many vices
164 EPICTETUS.
dost thou give place ? But if aught be well to-morrow,
how much better to-day ? if to-morrow suit, how much
better to-day ? Tea, and for this, too, that thou
mayest have the power to-morrow, and not again
put it off till the third day.

CHAPTER III.

ON DISPUTATION.

1. What things a man must have learned in order

to be able to reason well have been accurately denned
by our philosophers ; but in the fitting use of them we
are wholly unexercised. Give any one of us whom
ye please some ignorant man for a disputant, and he
shall find no way to deal with him ; but if, when he
hath moved him a little, the man answer beside the
purpose, he is no longer able to manage him, but
either he will revile him, or mock him, and say, He
is an ignorant fellow ; nothing can be done with him.
2. But a guide, when he hath found one straying
from the way, leads him into the proper road, and
does not mock him or revile him, and then go away.
And do thou show such a man the truth, and thou
shalt see that he will follow it. But so long as thou
dost not show it, mock him not, but be sensible rather
of thine own incapacity.
3. But what? this business of instruction is not very
 ON DISPUTATION. 165
safe at present, and least of all in Rome ; for he who
pursues it will of course feel constrained not to do it
in a corner, but he must go to some man of consular
rank, it may be, or some rich man, and inquire of him:
Sir, can you tell me to whom you have committed the
care of your horses ? Surety. Was it, then, to any
chance-comer and one inexperienced about horses ?
By no means. Well then, to whom are your gold and
silver vessels and raiment entrusted ? Neither are
these committed to any chance person. And your body,
have you already sought out one to whom to commit
the care of it ? How now ? And that also one who is
experienced in training and medicine ? Assuredly.
Whether, now, are these the best things you have, or
do you possess aught that is better than all of them ?
What thing do you mean? That, by Zeus, which
useth all these, and approveth each of them and taketh
counsel ? Is it the soul, then, that you mean ? You
have conceived me rightly ; it is even this. Truly I
hold that I possess in this something much better than
everything else. Can you then declare to us in what
manner you have taken thought for your soul ? for it
is not likely that a wise man like yourself, and one of
repute in the state, would overlook the best thing you
possess, and use no diligence or design about it, but
leave it neglected and perishing? Surely not. But
do you provide for it yourself ? and have you learned
the way from another, or discovered it yourself 1
4. And then at last there is danger lest he say first,
Good sir, what is this to you ? who are you ? and then,
if you persist in troubling him, that he may lift up his
 166 EPICTETUS.
hands and smite you. Once I too was an admirer of
this method until I fell into these difficulties.

CHAPTER IV.

THAT WE SHOULD BE SLOW IN ACCEPTING PLEASURE.

1. When thou hast received the appearance of some

pleasure, then, as in other things, guard thyself lest thou
be carried away by it, but delay with thyself a little,
and let the thing await thee for a while. Then bethink
thyself of the two periods of time, one when thou
shalt be enjoying the pleasure, the other, when,
having enjoyed it, thou shalt afterwards repent of it
and reproach thyself. And set on the other side
how thou shalt rejoice and commend thyself if thou
abstain.
2. But if it seem reasonable to thee to do the thing,
beware lest thou have been conquered by the flattery
and the sweetness and the allurement of it. But
set on the other side how much better were the
consciousness of having won that victory.

CHAPTER V.

THAT WE SHOULD BE OPEN IN OUR DEALINGS.

In doing aught which thou hast clearly discerned

as right to do, seek never to avoid being seen in the

1
 EACH MAN PLA Y HIS O WN PART. 167
doing of, even though the multitude should be destined
to form some wrong opinion concerning it. For if
thou dost not right, avoid the deed itself. But if
rightly, why fear those who will wrongly rebuke
thee ?

CHAPTER VI.

THAT HALF TRUE MAY BE ALL FALSE.

As the sayings, It is day, It is night, are wholly

justifiable if viewed disjunctively,1 but not if viewed
together, even so at a feast, to pick out the largest
portion for oneself may be justifiable, if we look to
the needs of the body alone, but is unjustifiable if
viewed as it concerns the preservation of the proper
community in the feast. Therefore, in eating with
another person, remember not to look only at the
value for the body of the things that are set before
thee, but to preserve also the reverence due to the
giver of the feast.

CHAPTER VII.

THAT EACH MAN PLAY HIS OWN PART.

1. If thou hast assumed a part beyond thy power to

play, then thou hast both come to shame in that, and
missed one thou could st have well performed.
168 EPICTETUS.
2. And some one having inquired, How, then, shall
each of us perceive what character he befits ? Whence,
said Epictetus, doth the bull alone, when the lion ap-
proacheth, discover his own capacity, and advance to
defend the whole herd? It is clear that with the
capacity is ever joined the perception of the same, and
thus, whoever of us may possess a like capacity will
not be ignorant of it. But a bull is not made in a
moment, nor is a man of generous spirit; but we
must have preparation and winter-training,1 and not
lightly rush upon things that do not concern us.

CHAPTER VIII.

THAT WE SHOULD BE CAEEFUL OF THE SOUL AS OF

THE BODY.

In going about, you are careful not to step upon a

nail or to twist your foot. Care thus also, lest you
injure your ruling faculty. And if we observe this in
each thing we do, we shall the more safely undertake
it.

CHAPTER IX

THE MEASURE OF GATN.

The measure of gain for each man is the body, as the

foot is for the shoe. Take your stand on this, and you
 A DULL NATURE. 169
shall preserve the measure. But if you transgress it,
you must thenceforth be borne, as it were, down a
steep. And so it is with the shoe, for if you will go
beyond the measure of the foot, the shoe will be first
gilded, then dyed purple, then embroidered. For that
which hath once transgressed its measure hath no
longer any limit.

CHAPTER X.

THE WORTH OF WOMEN.

From the age of fourteen years women are flattered

and worshipped by men. Seeing thus that there is
nothing else for them but to serve the pleasure of
men, they begin to beautify themselves, and to place
all their hopes in this. It were well, then, that they
should perceive themselves to be prized for nothing
else than modesty and decorum.

CHAPTER XI.

A DULL NATURE.

It betokens a dull nature to be greatly occupied

in matters that concern the body, as to be much
170 EPICTETUS.
concerned about exercising oneself, in eating, in
drinking, and other bodily acts. But these things
should be done by the way, and all attention be given
to the mind.

CHAPTER XII.

OF ADORNMENT OF THE PERSON.

1. A certain young man, a rhetorician, having

come to Epictetus with his hair dressed in an
unusually elaborate way, and his other attire much
adorned, Tell me, said Epictetus, think you not that
some dogs are beautiful, and some horses, and so of
the other animals ?
"I do think it," said he.
And men too—are not some beautiful and some ill-
favoured ?
" How otherwise ? "
Whether, then, do we call each of these beautiful
for the same reasons and in the same kind, or each
for something proper to itself 1 And you shall see
the matter thus : Inasmuch as we observe a dog to be
formed by nature for one end, and a horse for another,
and, let us say, a nightingale for another, we may in
general say, not unreasonably, that each of them is
then beautiful when it is excellent according to its
own nature ; but since the nature of each is different,
 ADORNMENT OF THE PERSON. 171
different also, it seems to me, is the manner of being
beautiful in each. Is it not so ?
He acknowledged that it was.
Therefore, that which maketh a dog beautiful
maketh a horse ill-favoured ; and that which maketh
a horse beautiful, a dog ill-favoured ; if, indeed, their
natures are different ?
" So it seems."
And that which maketh a beautiful Pancratiast,1
the same maketh a wrestler not good, and a runner
utterly laughable. And he who is beautiful for the
Pentathlon is very bad for wrestling J
" It is so," he said.
What is it, then, that makes a man beautiful ? Is
it not that which, in its kind, makes also a dog or a
horse beautiful ?
" It is that," he answered.
What, then, makes a dog beautiful ? The presence
of the virtue of a dog. And a horse 1 The presence
of the virtue of a horse. And what, then, a man ? Is
it not also the presence of the virtue of a man ?
And, O youth, if thou wouldst be beautiful, do thou
labour to perfect this, the virtue of a human being.
But what is it ? Look whom you praise when you
praise any without affection—is it the righteous or
the unrighteous 1
-" The righteous."
Is it the temperate or the profligate ?
" The temperate."
Is it the continent or the incontinent 1
" The continent."
172 EPICTETUS.
Then making yourself such a one as you praise,
you will know that you are making yourself
beautiful; but so long as you neglect these things,
though you sought out every device to appear
beautiful, you must of necessity be ugly.
2. For thou art not flesh and hair, but a Will : if thou
keep this beautiful, then wilt thou be beautiful. But
so far I dare not tell thee that thou art ugly, for I
think thou wilt more easily bear to hear anything
else than this. But see what Socrates saith to
Alcibiades, the most beautiful and blooming of men :
Endeavour, then, to be beautiful ; and what saith he ?
Curl thy lochs, and pluck out the hairs of thy legs ?
God forbid. But set thy Will in order, cast out evil
doctrines.
"And how then shall we deal with the
body?"
As Nature made it. Another hath cared for this ;
commit it to Him.
"But whatl Shall the body then be un-
cleansed ? "
God forbid. But that which thou art and wast
made by Nature, cleanse this ; let a man be clean as a
man, a woman as a woman, a child as a child.
3. For we ought not even by the aspect of the body
to scare away the multitude from philosophy ; but by
his body, as in all other things, a philosopher should
show himself cheerful, and free from troubles. Behold,
friends, how I have nothing and need nothing;
behold how I am homeless and landless, and an exile,
if so it chance, and hearthless, and yet I live more free
 ADORNMENT OF THE PERSON. 173
from troubles than all the lordly and the rich. But
look on my body, too ; ye see that it is not the worse for
my hard life. But if one saith this to me, having the
countenance and garb of a condemned criminal, what
God shall persuade me to approach to philosophy
which makes such men as this ? God forbid ! I would
not, were it even to become a sage.
4. I, indeed, by the Gods, had rather a young man
in his first movement towards philosophy came to me
with his hair curled than dishevelled and foul. For a
certain impression of the beautiful is to be seen in
him ; and an aim at what is becoming, and to the
thing wherein it seemeth to him to lie, there he
applies his art. Thenceforth it only needs to show
him its true place, and to say, Young man, thou
seehest the beautiful, and thou dost well. Know, then,
that it flourishes there where thy Reason is; there seek
it where are thy likes and dislikes, thy pursuits and
avoidances, for this is what thou hast in thyself of
choice and precious, but the body is by nature mud.
Why dost thou spend thy labour upon it in vain ? for
that the body is naught, Time shall certainly teach thee,
though it teach thee nothing else. But if one come to
me foul and filthy, and a moustache down to the
knees, what have I to say to him ? with what image
or likeness can I draw him on ? For with what that
is like unto Beauty hath he ever busied himself, so
as I may set him on another course, and say, Not
here is Beauty, but there? Will you have me tell
him, Beauty consists not in being befouled, but in the
Reason ? For doth he even seek Beauty ? hath he any
174 EPICTETUS.
impression of it in his mind ? Go, and reason with a
hog, that he shall not roll himself in the mud.
5. Behold a youth worthy of love—behold an old
man worthy to love, and to be loved in return ; to
whom one may commit his sons, his daughters, to
be taught ; to whom young men may come, if it please
you—that he may deliver lectures to them on a dung
hill! God forbid. Every extravagance arises from
something in human nature, but this is near to being
one that is not human.

CHAPTER XIII.

WHY WE SHOULD BEAR WITH WRONG.

When some one may do you an injury, or speak

ill of you, remember that he either does it or speaks
it believing that it is right and meet for him to
do so. It is not possible, then, that he can follow
the thing that appears to you, but the thing that
appears to him. Wherefore, if it appear evil to him,
it is he that is injured, being deceived. For also
if any one should take a true consequence to be
false, it is not the consequence that is injured, but
he which is deceived. Setting out, then, from these
opinions, you will bear a gentle mind towards any
man who may revile you. For, say on each occasion,
So it appeared to him.
 ON CERTAIN FALSE CONCLUSIONS. 175

CHAPTER XIV.

THAT EVERYTHING HATH TWO HANDLES.

Every matter hath two handles—by the one it may

be carried ; by the other, not. If thy brother do thee
wrong, take not this thing by the handle, He wrongs
me; for that is the handle whereby it may not be
carried. But take it rather by the handle, He is my
brother, nourished with me; and thou wilt take it by
a handle whereby it may be carried.

CHAPTER XV.

ON CERTAIN FALSE CONCLUSIONS.

There is no true conclusion in these reasonings .- I

am richer than thou, therefore I am better: I am more
eloquent than thou, therefore I am better. But the
conclusions are rather these : I am richer than thou,
therefore my wealth is better: I am more eloquent
than thou, therefore my speech is better. But thou art
not wealth, and thou art not speech.
176 EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER XVI

PERCEPTION AND JUDGMENT.

1. Doth a man bathe himself quickly ? Then, say

not, Wrongly, but Quickly. Doth he drink much
wine? Then say not, Wrongly, but Much. For
whence do you know if it were ill done till you have
understood his opinion ?
2. Thus it shall not befall you to assent to any other
things than those whereof you are truly and directly
sensible.1
3. What is the cause of assenting to anything ? •
The appearance that it is so. But if it appear to be
not so, it is impossible to assent to it. Wherefore ?
For that this is the nature of the mind, to receive the
true with favour, the false with disfavour, and the
uncertain with indifference. The proof of this ? Be
sure, if you can, at this moment, that it is night.
You cannot. Cease to be sure that it is day. You
cannot. Be sure that the stars are odd in number, or
that they are even. You cannot. When, therefore,
any man shall assent to what is false, know that he
had no will to consent to falsehood ; for, as saitb
Plato, no soul is willingly deprived of the truth, but
the false appeared to it to be true. Come, then, what
have we in actions corresponding to this true and
false ? The seemly and the unseemly, the profitable
and the unprofitable, that which concerns me and
that which doth not concern me, and such like. Can
 PERCEPTION AND JUDGMENT. 1 77
any man think that a certain thing is for his profit,
and not elect to do it ? He cannot. How, then, is it
with her who saith—

" And well I know the evils I shall do,

But wrath is lord of all my purposes ? "—Medea, 1079.

For, did she hold this very thing, to gratify her wrath
and avenge herself on her husband, more profitable
than to spare her children ? Even so : but she was
deceived. Show her clearly that she was deceived,
and she will not do it ; but so long as you show it
not, what else hath she to follow than the thing as it
appears to her ? Nothing. Wherefore, then, have
you indignation with her, that the unhappy wretch
has gone astray concerning the greatest things, and
has become a viper instead of a human being ? If
anything, will you not rather pity, as we pity the
blind and the lame, those that are blinded and lamed
in the chiefest of their faculties 1
4. " So that all these great and dreadful deeds
have this same origin in the appearance of the thing 1 "
The same, and no other. The Iliad is nought
but appearance, and the use of appearances. The
thing that appeared to Paris was the carrying off of
the wife of Menelaus ; the thing that appeared to
Helen was to accompany him. Had it, then, appeared
to Menelaus to be sensible that it was a gain to be
deprived of such a wife, what would have happened ?
Not only had there been no Iliad, but no Odyssey
neither.
548
178 "On such a EPICTETUS.
little thing do such great ones

hang?"
But what talk is this of great things? Wars and
seditions and destructions of many men, and over
throw of cities? And what is there of great in
these ? Nothing. For what is there of greatness in
the deaths of many oxen and sheep, and the burning
or overthrow of many nests of swallows or storks ?
" But are these things like unto those ? "
They are most like. The bodies of men are
destroyed, and the bodies of oxen and of sheep. The
dwellings of men are burned, and the nests of storks.
What is there great, what is there awful in this ? Or
show me wherein differeth the dwelling of a man, as a
dwelling, from the nest of a stork, save that the one
buildeth his little houses of planks and tiles and
bricks, and the other of sticks and mud ?
" Are a stork and a man, then, alike ? "
What say you ? In body they are most like.
" Doth a man, then, differ in no respect from a
stork ? "
God forbid ; but in these matters there is no
difference.
" Wherein, then, doth he differ ? "
Seek, and you shall find that in another thing there
is a difference. Look if it be not in the observing
and studying of what he doth ; look if it be not in his
social instinct, in his faith, his reverence, his stead
fastness, his understanding. Where, then, is the great
Good or Evil for man ? There, where the difference
is. If this be saved, and abide, as it were, in a
 DEEDS, NOT WORDS. 179
fortress, and reverence be not depraved, nor faith nor
understanding, then is the man also saved. But if
one of these things perish, or be taken by storm, then
doth the man also perish. And in this it is that great
actions are done. It was a mighty downfall, they say,
for Paris, when the Greeks came, and when they
sacked Troy, and when his brothers perished. Not
so : for through another's act can no man fall—that
was the sacking of the storks' nests. But the down
fall was then when he lost reverence and faith, when
he betrayed hospitality and violated decorum. When
was the fall of Achilles ? When Patroclus died 1
God forbid ; but when he was wrathful, when he
bewept the loss of his girl, when he forgot that he was
there not to win mistresses but to make war. These,
for men, are downfall and storming and overthrow,
when right opinions are demolished or depraved.

CHAPTER XVII.

THAT THE PHILOSOPHER SHALL EXHIBIT TO THE

VULGAR DEEDS, NOT WORDS.

1. Thou shalt never proclaim thyself a philosopher,

nor speak much among the vulgar of the philosophic
maxims ; but do the things that follow from the
maxims. For example, do not discourse at a feast
upon how one ought to eat, but eat as one ought.
180 EPICTETUS.

For remember that even so Socrates everywhere

banished ostentation, so that men used to come to
him desiring that he would recommend them to
teachers of philosophy, and he brought them away
and did so, so well did he bear to be overlooked.
2. And if among the vulgar discourse should arise
concerning some maxim of thy philosophy, do thou,
for the most part, keep silence, for there is great risk
that thou straightway vomit up what thou hast not
digested. And when someone shall say to thee, Thou
knowest naught, and it bites thee not, then know that
thou hast begun the work.
3. And as sheep do not bring their food to the
shepherds to show how much they have eaten, but
digesting inwardly their provender, bear outwardly
wool and milk, even so do not thou, for the most
part, display the maxims before the vulgar, but rather
the works which follow from them when they are
digested.

CHAPTER XVIIL

ASCESIS.

When you have adapted the body to a frugal way

of living, do not flatter yourself on that, nor if you
drink only water, say, on every opportunity, / drink
only water. And if you desire at any time to inure
yourself to labour and endurance, do it to yourself
 TOKENS. 181
and not unto the world. And do not embrace the
statues ; but some time when you are exceedingly
thirsty take a mouthful of cold water, and spit it out,
and say nothing about it.

CHAPTER XIX.

TOKENS.

1. The position and token of the vulgar : he looks

never to himself for benefit or hurt, but always to
outward things. The position and character of the
philosopher : he looks for benefit or hurt only to
himself.
2. The tokens of one that is making advance : he
blames none, he praises none, he accuses none, he
complains of none ; he speaks never of himself, as
being somewhat, or as knowing aught. When he is
thwarted or hindered in aught, he accuseth himself.
If one should praise him, he laughs at him in his
sleeve ; if one should blame him, he makes no defence.
He goes about like the sick and feeble, fearing to
move the parts that are settling together before they
have taken hold. He hath taken out of himself all
pursuit, and hath turned all avoidance to things in
our power which are contrary to nature. Toward all
things he will keep his inclination slack. If he is
thought foolish or unlearned, he regardeth it not. In
a word, he watches himself as he would a treacherous
enemy.
i8a EPICTETUS.

CHAPTER XX.

THAT THE LOGICAL ART IS NECESSARY.

1. Since Reason is that by which all other things

are organised and perfected,1 it is meet that itself
should not remain unorganised. But by what shall it
be organised ? For it is clear that this must be either
by itself or by some other thing. But this must be
Reason; or something else which is greater than
Reason, which is impossible.
2. " Yea," one may say, " but it is more pressing to
cure our vices, and the like."
You desire, then, to hear something of these things?
Hear then ; but if you shall say to me, / know not if
you are reasoning truly or falsely ? or if I utter some
ambiguous statement, and you shall say bid me
distinguish, shall I lose patience with you and tell
you, It is more pressing to cure our vices than chop
logic ?
3. In this reason I think the logical arts are set
at the beginning of our study, even as before the
measuring of corn we set the examination of the
measure. For unless we shall first establish what is
a modius2 and what is a balance, how shall we be able
to measure or weigh anything ?
4. In this case, then, if you have not understood
and accurately investigated the criterion of all other
things, and that through which they are understood,
shall we be able to investigate and understand any
thing else ? and how could we ? Yea, but a mod/itis.
 GRAMMARIAN OR SAGE. 183
is a wooden thing, and barren. But it measures corn.
And logic is also barren. As regards this, indeed, we
shall see. But even if one should grant this, it
sufficeth that logic is that which distinguishes and
investigates other things, and, as one may say,
measures and weighs them. Who saith these things ?
is it Chrysippus alone and Zeno and Cleanthes ? but
doth not Antistenes3 say it ? And who wrote that the
investigation of terms is the beginning of education ?
—was it not Socrates ? and of whom doth Xenophon
write that he began with the investigation of terms,
what each of them signified 1

CHAPTER XXI.

GRAMMARIAN OR SAGE.

When some one may exalt himself in that he is

able to understand and expound the works of
Chrysippus, say then to thyself : If Chrysippus had
not written obscurely, this man would have had
nothing whereon to exalt himself. But I, what do I
desire ? Is it not to learn to understand Nature and
to follow her ? I inquire, then, who can expound
Nature to me, and hearing that Chrysippus can, I
betake myself to him. But I do not understand his
writings, therefore I seek an expounder for them.
And so far there is nothing exalted. But when I
1 84 EPICTETUS.
have found the expounder, it remaineth for me to
put in practice what he declares to me, and in this
alone is there anything exalted. But if I shall admire
the bare exposition, what else have I made of myself
than a grammarian instead of a philosopher, save,
indeed, that the exposition is of Chrysippus and
not of Homer? When, therefore, one may ask me
to lecture on the philosophy of Chrysippus, I shall
rather blush when I am not able to show forth works
of a like nature and in harmony with the words.

CHAPTER XXII.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

1. The clearer be the characters in which a book is

writ, the more pleasantly and conveniently shall
any man read it. Thus also a man shall listen more
conveniently to any discourse if it be conveyed in
well-ordered and graceful words. Be it not said,
then, that there is no faculty of expression, for this is
the thought of a man both impious and cowardly1
—impious, for he holds in disesteem the gracious gifts
of God, as if he would take away the serviceable
faculty of seeing, or of hearing, or of the very
speaking itself. Did God give thee eyes for nothing ?
And was it for nothing that He mingled in them a
spirit of such might and cunning as to reach a long
 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 185
way off and receive the impression of visible forms —a
messenger so swift and faithful ? Was it for nothing
that He gave the intervening air such efficacy, and
made it elastic, so that being, in a manner, strained,2
our vision should traverse it? Was it for nothing
that He made Light, without which there was no
benefit of any other thing ?
2. Man, be not unthankful for these things, nor yet
unmindful of better things. For seeing and hearing,
and, by Zeus, for life itself, and the things that work
together to maintain it, for dried fruits, for wine, for
oil, do thou give thanks to God. But remember that
He hath given thee another thing which is better than
all these—that, namely, which uses them, which
approves them, which taketh account of the worth of
each. For what is that which declareth concerning
all these faculties how much each of them is worth ?
Is it the faculty itself ? Heard you ever the faculty of
vision tell aught concerning itself ? or that of hearing ?
or wheat, or barley, or a horse, or a dog ? Nay, but
as ministers and slaves are they appointed, to serve
the faculty. which makes use of appearances. And if
you would learn how much any of them is worth, of
whom will you inquire ? who shall give answer ?
How then shall any other faculty be greater than this,
which both useth the others as its servants, and the
same approveth each of them and declareth concerning
them? For which of them knoweth what itself is,
and what it is worth ? Which of them knoweth when
it behoves to make use of it, and when not ? What is
that which openeth and closeth the eyes, turning them
186 EPICTETUS.
away from things which they should not behold, and
guiding them towards other things ? Is it the faculty
of vision ? Nay, but the faculty of the Will. What
is that which closeth and openeth the ears ?—that in
obedience to which they become busy and curious, or,
again, unmoved by what they hear ? Is it the faculty
of hearing ? It is no other than that of the Will.
3. Being then so great a faculty, and set over all the
rest, let it come to us and tell us that the best of
existing things is the flesh ! Not even if the flesh
itself affirmed that it was the best, would any man
have patience with it. Now what is it, Epicurus,
which declares this doctrine, that the flesh is best,
which wrote concerning the End of Being, and on
Laws of Nature, and on the Canon of Truth ?—which
let thy beard grow, which wrote, when dying, that it
was spending its last day and a happy one ? 3 Is it
the flesh or the Will ? Wilt thou affirm, then, that
thou hast aught better than the Will ? Nay, but art
thou not mad—so blind, in truth, and deaf as thou
art?
4. What then ? Shall any man contemn the other
faculties ? God forbid ! Doth any man say that there
is no use or eminence in the faculty of eloquence. God
forbid—that were senseless, impious, thankless towards
God. But to each thing its true worth. For there is
a certain use in an ass, but not so much as in an ox ;
and in a dog, but not so much as in a slave ; and in a
slave, but not so much as in a citizen ; and in citizens,
but not so much as in governors. Yet not because
other things are better is the use which anything
 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 187
affords to be contemned. There is a certain worth in
the faculty of eloquence, but not so much as in the
Will. When, then, I speak thus, let no man deem
that I would have you neglect the power of eloquence,
for I would not have you neglect your eyes, or ears,
or hands, or feet, or raiment, or shoes. But if one ask
me which is, then, the best of existing things, what
shall I say ? The faculty of eloquence I cannot say,
but that of the Will, when it is made right. For this
is that which useth the other, and all the other facul
ties, both small and great. When this is set right, a
man that was not good becomes good ; when it is not
right, the man becomes evil. This is that whereby we
fail or prosper—whereby we blame others, or approve
them ; the neglect of which is the misery, and the
care of it the happiness, of mankind.
5. But to take away the faculty of eloquence, and
to say that there is in truth no such faculty, is not
only the part of a thankless man toward Him who
hath given it, but also of a cowardly. For such a one
seemeth to me to fear lest if there be any faculty in
this kind we shall not be able to despise it. Such are
they also which say that there is no difference
between beauty and ugliness. Then were a man to
be affected in like manner on seeing Thersites and
Achilles, or on seeing Helen and any common woman 1*
Truly, a thought of fools and boors, and of men who
know not the nature of each thing, but fear lest, if
one perceive the difference, he shall be straightway
swept away and overpowered by it. But the great
thing is this—to leave to each the faculty that it
188 EPICTETUS.
hath, and so leaving it to scan the worth of the
faculty, and to learn what is the greatest of existing
things ; and everywhere to pursue this, and be zealous
about this, making all other things accessory to this,
albeit, according to our powers, not neglecting even
these. For of the eyes also must we take care, yet
not as of the best thing ; yet of these, too, by the very
exercise of the best thing ; since that shall in no other
wise subsist according to Nature save by wise dealing
in these matters, and preferring certain things to
others.
6. But what is done in the world ? As if a man
journeying to his own country should pass by an ex
cellent inn, and the inn being agreeable to him, should
stay, and abide in it. Man, thou hast forgotten thy pur
pose ; thy journeying was not for this, but through this.
But this is pleasant. And how many other inns are
pleasant, and how many meadows ? yet merely for
passing through. But thy business is this, to arrive
in thy native country, to remove the fears of thy
kinsfolk, to do, thyself, the duties of a citizen, to
marry, to beget children, to fill the customary offices.
For thou art not come into this world to choose out
its pleasanter places, but to dwell in those where thou
wast born, and whereof thou wast appointed to be
a citizen. And so in some wise it is with this matter.
Since, by the aid of speech and such like deliverance,
we must come to our aim, and purify the Will, and
order aright the faculty which makes use of appear
ances ; and it is necessary that this deliverance of the
doctrines come to pass by a certain use of speech, and
 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 189
with a certain art and sharpness of expression,
there are some which are taken captive by these
things themselves, and abide in them—one in the gift
of speech, one in syllogisms, one in sophisms, one in
some such another of these isms ; and there they linger
and moulder away, as though they were fallen among
the Sirens.
7. Man, thy business was to make thyself fit to use
the appearances that encounter thee according to
Nature, not missing what thou pursuest, nor falling
into what thou wouldst avoid, never failing of good
fortune, nor overtaken of ill fortune, free, unhindered,
uncompelled, agreeing with the governance of Zeus,
obedient unto the same, and well-pleased therein;
blaming none, charging none, able of thy whole soul
to utter those lines :—
" Lead me, 0 Zeus, and thou, Destiny I "

Then, having this for thy business, if some little

matter of eloquence please thee, or certain specula
tions, wilt thou stay and abide in them, and elect to
settle in them, forgetting all that is at home ? and
wilt thou say, These things are admirable ? Who saith
they are not admirable ? but for passing through, like
inns. What should hinder one that spoke like
Demosthenes to be unfortunate ? or one that could
resolve syllogisms like Chrysippus to be miserable, to
grieve, to envy; in a word, to be troubled and
unhappy 1 Nothing. Thou seest now that all these
things are but inns, and of no worth ; but our business
was another thing. When I say these things to certain
190 EP1CTETUS.
persons, they think I am rejecting all care about
language or speculation. But I do not reject this ; I
reject the endless occupation with them, the putting
our hopes in them. If a man by this teaching
injureth those who hear him, reckon me also among
those who do this injury. For I cannot, in order to
please you, see that one thing is best and chief of all,
and say that another is.5

CHAPTER XXIII.

CONSTANCY.

Abide in thy purposes as in laws which it were

impious to transgress. And whatsoever any man
may say of thee, regard it not; for neither is this
anything of thine own.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HOW LONG ?

1. How long wilt thou delay to hold thyself worthy

of the best things, and to transgress in nothing the
decrees of Reason ? Thou hast received the maxims
by which it behoves thee to live ; and dost thou live
by them ? What teacher dost thou still look for to
 PARTS OF PHILOSOPHY. 191
whom to hand over the task of thy correction ?
Thou art no longer a boy, but already a man full
grown. If, then, thou art neglectful and sluggish,
and ever making resolve after resolve, and fixing one
day after another on which thou wilt begin to attend
to thyself, thou wilt forget that thou art making no
advance, but wilt go on as one of the vulgar sort,
both living and dying.
2. Now, at last, therefore hold thyself worthy to live
as a man of full age and one who is pressing forward,
and let everything that appeareth the best be to thee
as an inviolable law. And if any toil or pleasure or
reputation or the loss of it be laid upon thee,
remember that now is the contest, here already are
the Olympian games, and there is no deferring them
any longer, and that in a single day and in a single
trial ground is to be lost or gained.
3. It was thus that Socrates made himself what he
he was, in all things that befell him having regard to
no other thing than Reason. But thou, albeit thou
be yet no Socrates, yet as one that would be Socrates,
so it behoveth thee to live.

CHAPTER XXV.

PARTS OF PHILOSOPHY.

1. The first and most necessary point in philosophy

is the use of the precepts, for example, not to lie.
The second is the proof of these, as, whence it comes
193 EPICTETUS.

that it is wrong to lie. The third is that which

giveth confirmation and coherence to the others, such
as, Whence it comes that this is proof ? for what is
proof ? what is consequence ? what is contradiction ?
what is truth ? what is falsehood ?
2. Thus the third point is necessary through the
second, and the second through the first. But the
most necessary of all, and that when we should rest,
is the first. But we do the contrary. For we linger
on the third point, and spend all our zeal on that,
while of the first we are utterly neglectful, and thus
we are liars ; but the explanation of how it is shown
to be wrong to lie we have ever ready to hand.

CHAPTER XXVI.

MEMORABILIA.

Hold in readiness for every need, these—

" Lead me, 0 Zeus, and thou Destiny, whithersoever ye have
appointed me to go, and may I follow fearlessly. But if in an evil
mind I be unwilling, still must I follow."
" That man is wise among us, and hath understanding of things
divine, who hath nobly agreed with Necessity."
But the third also—
" 0 Crito, if so it seem good to the Gods so let it be. Anytus and
Meletua are able to kill me indeed, but to harm me, never."1

The End.
 ERRATA.
P. 23, 1. 6, for Cynicism read Cyniam : and elsewhere in the same chapter.
P. 51, 1. 7 fin., for that is read that it is.
P. 59, 1. 10, for or some read or at some.
P. 61, 1. 4, for let us to that seek for the remedy read to that let us seek for the
remedy.
P. 66, 1. 7 fin., for cheerfulness, tranquillity, read tranquillity, peace.
P. 83, 1. 2, 3 fin., for would endure read would easily endure.
P. 102, 1. 2, for good read Good.
P. 104, 1. 1,/or for such read for with such.
P. 119, 1. 1,/or You will speak words read You will speak the words.
P. 121, 1. 13 fin., after justice delete comma.
P. 123, 1. 28 fin., delete too.
P. 124, 1. 8, for place read places.
P. 125, 1. 9 fin., for he had read had he.
P. 131, 1. 5 fin., for before time read beforetime.
P. 135, 1. 9, for when, it may be, read when it may be.
P. 146, 1. 14, after accoutred, add and.
P. 150, 1. 11, for when read where.
P. 165, 1. 12, for now read not.
„ 1. 8 fin., for state read State.
P. 167, 1. 1, after of add it.
P. 170, 1. 1, 2, for in eating, in drinking, and read or eating, or drinking, or
P. 182, 1. 11 fin., for In read For.
P. 183, 1. 8, for Antistenes read Antisthenes.
P. 186, 1. 16, for grow, read grow ?
P. 189, 1. 5, for isms read inns.
P. 190, 1. 9, for thy purposes read the precepts.
P. 204, 1. 13, /or ear[lev read ia/xev.
P. 206, 1. 10, 11 fin,, for irapaKpary read irapaKparr}.
P. 213, 1. 3 Jin., for airdBua read airdBeia.
P. 215, 1. 3, for Aldri/jLwv read AiS-fi/xuv.
P. 216, 1. 10, for dwd/icLs read dwa/xeis.
P. 221, 1. 6 Jin., for &\\o 22 read aXKo—22.
P. 222, 1. 1,/or &iro8av6vTwv read dirodavbvTuv.

3. "To be elated:" br^e*. One might translate, "to be

puffed up," except that that expression is only used in a bad sense
and one may be " elated " in anything that is truly of the nature of
the good. The Stoics distinguished between Xapi, joy, and **»&
pleasure ; not rejecting or despising the former.
549
192 EPICTETUS.
that it is wrong to lie. The third is that which
giveth confirmation and coherence to the others, such

" 0 Crito, if so it seem good to the Gods so let it be. Anytus and
Meletus are able to kill me indeed, but to harm me, never."1

The End.
 NOTES.

CLEANTHES' HYMN TO ZEUS.

1. Professor Mahaffy, in his Qreek Life and Thought, quotes the full
text of this noble Hymn, which, he thinks, " would alone redeem the
Hellenistic age, as it stands before us, from the charge of mere arti
ficiality and pedantry."

2. fljs idiaiim Xax&rej jmwiov. This is Zeller's reading, but not

Professor Mahaffy's, who has frAs /J/tij/to.

BOOK I.
Chapter I.
1. " Enter by the door" (ef. S. John, x. 1). The parallelisms in
thought and expression between Epictetus and the New Testament
have often been noticed, and the reader will discover many others,
to which I have not thought it necessary to draw attention.

2. " Conceit : " ctijns, Eiribildung.

8. " To be elated : " hraipajBm.. One might translate, " to bo

puffed up," except that that expression is only used in a bad sense,
and one may be " elated " in anything that is truly of the nature of
the good. The Stoics distinguished between xaP&> joy, and ri$orti,
pleasure ; not rejecting or despising the former.
549
1 94 NOTES.

Chapter II.

1. t4 pjtv eUriv i<p' Tj/ur, t4 Si oix i<p' j]im>. A fundamental distinc

tion in the Epictetean system, which he sometimes expresses by the
phrases, tA rifUrcpa and rh. t&v SXKwv—things that are our own and
things that belong to others ; or t4 ISia and ri. dXkbrpia—things that
are our proper concern, and things that are alien to us.

2. On the Mons Falatinus in Rome there stood a temple to Fever.

Upton quotes from Grater, p. xcvii., an interesting inscription to
this divinity : Febri. Divae. Febri. Sanctae. Febri. Magnae. Camilla.
Awsta. Pro. Filio. Male. AfTecto. P.

Chapter III.

1. There is excellent MS. authority for this reading of the passage,

which, however, is not Schweighauser's. The latter reads : " Be
content with them, and pray to the Gods."

2, " Steward of the winds." A quotation from Homer, Od. x. 21.

Chapter IV.

1, " Through not being dazzled," etc. "Av tAs 6\as /rij BavjiAsfj.

Chapter VI.

1. Note that in this passage the words "God," and "the Gods"
and " the Divine," are all synonymous terms.

2. Or "of names."

3. Some texts add " such as Good or Evil."

 NOTES. 195

Chapter VII.

1. Apparently a proverb, which may be paralleled in its present

application by Luther's "Pecca fortiter."

2. A complex or conjunctive proposition is one which contains

several assertions so united as to form a single statement which will
be false if any ons of its parts is false—e.g., " Brutus was the lover
and destroyer both of Csesar and of his country." The disjunctive is
when alternative propositions are made, as " Pleasure is either good
or bad, or neither good nor bad."

8. I have followed Lord Shaftesbury's explanation of this passage,

which the other commentators have given up as corrupt. It seems
clear that whether the passage can stand exactly in the form in which
we have it, or not, Lord Shaftesbury's rendering represents what
Epictetus originally conveyed.

4. According to the usual reading, a scornful exclamation—" Thou

exhort them 1 " I have followed the reading recommended by Schw.
in his notes, although he does not adopt it in his text.

Chapter VIII.

1. The founder of the Cynic school was Antisthenes, who taught in

the gymnasium named the Cynosarges, at Athens ; whence the name
of his school. Zeller takes this striking chapter to contain
Epictetua's " philosophisches Ideal," the Cynic being the " wahrer
Philosoph," or perfect Stoic. (Phil. d. Gr. iii. S. 752.) This view
seems to me no more true than that the missionary or monk is to
be considered the ideal Christian. Epictetus takes pains to make it
clear that the Cynic is a Stoic with a special and separate vocation,
which all Stoics are by no means called upon to take up. Like
Thoreau, that modern Stoic, when he went to live at Walden, the
196 NOTES.

Cynic tries the extreme of abnegation in order to demonstrate

practically that man has resources within himself which make him
equal to any fate that circumstances can inflict.

2. Tfupilinov, a coarse garment especially affected by the Cynics, as

also by the early Christian ascetics.

3. " Nor pity." Upton, in a note on Diss, i., 18. 3. (Schw.) refers
to various passages in Epictetus where pity and envy are mentioned
together as though they were related emotions, and aptly quotes
Virgil (Georg. ii., 499) :—

"Aut doluit miserans inopem, aut invidit habenti."

It will be clear to any careful reader that when Epictetus asserts that
certain emotions or acts are unworthy of a man, he constantly means
the "man" to be understood as his highest spiritual faculty, his
deepest sense of reason, his soul. That we are not to pity or grieve
means that that side of us which is related to the divine and eternal is
not to be affected by emotions produced by calamities in mere outward
and material things. St. Augustine corroborates this view in an in
teresting passage bearing on the Stoic doctrine of pity (De Civ. Dei.
ix., 6 ; Schw. iv., 132) :—
" Misericordiam Cicero non dubitavit appellate virtutem, quam
Stoicos inter vitia numerare non pudet, qui tamen, ut docuit liber
Epicteti nobilissimi Stoici ex decretis Zenonis et Chrysippi, qui hujus
sectse primas partes habuerunt, hujuscemodi passiones in aniinum
Sapientis admittunt, quem vitiis omnibus liberam esse volunt Unde
fit consequens, ut hsec ipsa non putent vitia, quando Sapienti sic
accidunt, ut coutra virtutem mentis rationemque nihil possunt."
The particular utterances of Epictetus here alluded to by St.
Augustine must have been contained in some of the lost books of the
Dissertations, as nothing like them is to be found explicitly in those
which survive, although the latter afford us abundant means for
deducing the conclusion which St. Augustine confirms.
 NOTES. 197
4. This cake seems to form a ridiculous anti-climax. But it
appears to have been a vexed question in antiquity whether an ascetic
philosopher might indulge in this particular luxury (irXaicoSj)- Upton
quotes Lucian and Diogenes Laertius for instances of this question
being propounded, and an affirmative answer given (in one instance by
the Cynic, Diogenes). The youth in the text is being addressed as a
novice who must not use the freedom of an adept.

5. Upton quotes from Oymbeline :—

' ' Hath Britain all the sun that shines ? Day, night,
Art they not, but in Britain ? Prythee, think,
There's living out of Britain 1 "
But Epictetus means more than this in his allusion to sun and stars.
See Preface, xxiv. This passage would lead us to suppose that
Epictetus believed in a personal existence continued for some time
after death. In the end, however, even sun and stars shall vanish.
See ii. 13, 4.
6. Being arrested by Philip's people, and asked if he were a spy,
Diogenes replied, " Certainly I am, O Philip ; a spy of thine ill-
counsel and folly, who for no necessity canst set thy life and kingdom
on the chances of an hour."
7. According to Upton's conjecture, these were gladiators famous for
bodily strength ; and also, one would suspect, for some remarkable
calamity.
8. This highly crude view of the Trojan war might have been
refuted out of the mouth of Epictetus himself. Evil-doers are not to
be allowed their way because they are unable to hurt our souls,
but the hurt may be in the cowardice or sloth that will not punish
them.
9. By wearing his cloak half falling off, in negligent fashion.
Nothing is finer or more characteristic in Epictetus than his angry
scorn of the pseudo-Stoics of his day.
198 NOTES.
10 ava.Kpi.vov to Saiubviov. The allusion evidently is to the genius
or divine spirit by which Socrates felt himself guided.

11. Crates was a disciple of Diogenes. His wife was named

Hipparchia. Upton quotes Menander (apud Diog. L.), " Thou wilt
walk about with me in a cloak as once did his wife with Crates the
Cynic."

12. Danaiis, father of the fifty Danaidae. .Eolus is mentioned

in Od. x. as having six sons and six daughters.

13. rpavel-rjas vv\cuapois. II., xxi. 69.

14. That is, he capped the quotation by quoting the following line
(II., ii. 24, 25). Not a very striking intellectual effort ; but Epictetus
evidently considered it a meritorious thing to know Homer well
enough to quote him in one's sleep, and he was right.

15. From a poem of Cleanthes.

BOOK II.

Chapter I.

1. According to the view of James Harris, in a long and valuable

note communicated to Upton, the "master-argument" was so called
from the supreme importance of the issues with which it dealt. On
these issues different leaders of the Stoics took different sides,
Diodorns holding both future and past things to be necessary,
Cleanthes both contingent, and Chrysippus past things to be necessary
and future contingent. Any two of the three propositions mentioned
in the text excludes the third. For modern philosophy the dis
tinction between the possible and the certain in the phenomenal world
has, of course, no real existence ; the possible being simply that of
which we do not know whether it will come to pass or not.
 NOTES. 199
2. Of course Epictetus here speaks ironically : all this is just what
it is the business of a thinker to do.

3. Epictetus, I suppose, means to complain that the current phrases

of philosophy are dealt out in glib answer to great ethical questions,
just as Homer might be quoted for an event in the life of Odysseus, by
persons who in neither case think of gaining that vital conviction
which only the strenuous exercise of one's own reason can produce.
A little later he represents Hellanicus, the historian, as quoted on the
distinction between good and evil, who never treated that subject. If
it is to be a mere question of authority, one name is as good as another,
since none is any use at all.
" Indifferent," be it observed, is morally indifferent—that which
has in itself no bearing on our moral state. See Chap. II. 2.

i. The followers of Aristotle called themselves Peripatetics.

Chapter II.

1. The word in the Greek is irepurrdaus, literally circumstances, but

the word is evidently used in a bad sense, as equivalent to afflictions.
Doom is likewise etymologically a neutral word, but one which has
received an evil meaning.
2. Socrates's faith in his genius or " Daemon " was well known. In
this passage from his Apologia (which Epictetus gives from a bad text),
it is doubtless the manner only that conveyed the idea of mockery.
Neither Socrates nor anyone else ever had better evidence of God's
existence than His voice in our conscience.

Chapter IV.

1. Briefly, the three divisions seem to be Action, Character, and

Judgment. The last is to be approached through training in logic,
in the penetration of fallacies, etc., by which means a man is to
200 NOTES.
arrive at such an inward and vital conviction of the truth that he
can never for a moment be taken off his guard by the delusion of
Appearance.

2. Passions, passionless, ra TrdOij, a-n-aO-lp. —See Index of Philosophic

Terms.

Chapter V.

1. Euripides. — Musonius Bufus, the teacher of Epictetus, is reported

to have said, " Take the chance of dying nobly when thou canst, lest
after a little death indeed come to thee, but a noble death no more."

2. This phrase of the "open door" occurs frequently in Epictetus,

usually when, as here, he is telling the average nonphilosophic man
that it is unmanly to complain of a life which he can at any time
relinquish. The philosopher has no need of such exhortation, for he
does not complain, and as for death, is content to wait God's time.
But the Stoics taught that the arrival of this time might be indicated
by some disaster or affliction which rendered a natural and wholesome
life impossible. Self-destruction was in such cases permissible, and
is recorded to have been adopted by several leaders of the Stoics,
generally when old age had begun to render them a burden to their
friends.

3. Nay, thou shalt exist, etc. —This is the sense given by Zeller's
punctuation. Schweighauser's text would be rendered, " Thou shalt
not exist, but something else will," etc Upton changes the text (on
his own authority) by transposing an oik. " Thou shalt exist, but
as something else, whereof the universe has now no need."

4. This does not appear to have been the law in Epictetus's time, for
he himself was educated while a slave. But it was a common provision
in antique states.

5. The ceremony in manumitting a slave.

 NOTES. 201

Chapter VI.

1. Chap. VI. i. is a passage from the lost Fifth Book of the

Discourses, preserved for us in a rather obscure Latin translation by
Aulus Gellius. During a storm at sea, a certain Stoic on board was
observed by him to look pale and anxious, though not indeed showing
the signs of panic exhibited by the other passengers. Questioned
afterwards by Gellius on this apparent feebleness in his professed
faith, the Stoic produced the Fifth Book of Epictetus, and read this
passage.
2. The third Earl of Shaftesbury, an enthusiastic student of Epic
tetus, had this dish of water and ray of light engraved, and placed,
with the inscription, irdvra. viri\rpfiis—All is Opinion—as an emblem at
the front of his Characteristics. The passage, though interesting, is
obscure. At one time the "appearances," QavTaalcu, are compared to
the ray of light; at another, the doctrines (literally "arts," i.e., arts
of life taught by philosophy) and virtues. Probably the explanation
is to be found in the view of the Stoics that at birth the human soul
is a tabula rasa, or blank sheet ; all our knowledge coming from with
out ; that is, from the "appearances " which surround us. Moral and
philosophic convictions are thus, like all other mental states, the
result of external impressions.

Chapter VII.
1. The school of Plato was continued at Athens under the title of the
Academy. In its later days it produced little except logical puzzles.
2. " Friend, if indeed, escaping from this war, we were destined
thereafter to an ageless and deathless life, then neither would I fight in
the van nor set thee in the press of glorious battle. But now, since
death in a thousand kinds stands everywhere against us, which no
man shall fly from nor elude, we go ; either we shall give glory to
another, or he to us."—Sarpedon's speech, Iliad xii. 322-8.
202 NOTES.
3. General consent. —The well-known philosophic doctrine, that what
all men unite in believing must be true, which has so often been made
the basis of arguments against Scepticism in various forms.

Chapter VIII.
1. See chap. IV. i.
2. He drew water by night for his gardens, and studied philosoph}
in the day. —Diog. Laeri. [Upton.]
3. A most characteristic feature of the whole Stoic school was its
treatment of ancient mythology and legend. These things were
closely and earnestly studied, with a constant view to the deeper
meanings that underlay the vesture of fable, an attitude which con
trasts very favourably with Plato's banishment of the poets from
his Republic for " teaching false notions about the Gods."

Chapter IX.
1. Gyara, an island in the JSgean, used as a penal settlement.

Chapter X.
1. The captain . . . the driver—literally, "to him who hta
knowledge " (of the given art).
2. Liberator—Kapirto-rfis. The person appointed by law to carry out
the ceremony of the manumission of slaves.

Chapter XI.
1. This chapter seems to me to contain a truth expressed so baldly
and crudely as to appear a falsehood. The reader's mind will be fixed
upon the truth or falsehood according as he is or is not capable of
reading Epictetus with understanding.
2. This earthen lamp was sold, according to Lucian, at the death of
Epictetus for 8000 drachmae (about £120).—Adv. Indoet. 13.
 NOTES. 203

Chapter XIII.

1 . Parodying a verse of Euripides on the stream of Dirce in Bceotia.

The Marcian aqueduct brought water to Rome.
2. I adopt Upton's conjecture for the inexplicable 'a /Sods KotXlf.

Chapter XVIII.

1. An eminent Cynic (also mentioned by Seneca and Tacitus).

Chapter XXV.

1. This is the reading of one of the Christian Paraphrases. The

other versions add the words irpbs dXXi)Xous after il; S>v oi 8ta(pep6/ie0a,
giving the sense "from things in which we do not differ from each
other." It is no uncommon thing for all the versions of Epictetus to
unite in a manifestly corrupt reading, and though in this case the
received text is not an impossible one, I have thought myself justified
in following the variant of the Paraphrase.

Chapter XXVII.

1. There is an allusion to this curious feature of the Olympic contests

in the Fourth Idyll of Theocritus. Casaubon (Led Theocr. ad Idyll.
4) quoted by Schweighiiuser, in his note on this passage (Diss. III.
xv. 4), shows from Festus Pompeins that there was a statue in the
Capitol of a youth bearing a spade after the manner of the Olympic
combatants.
2. Euphrates, a Stoic philosopher, and contemporary of Epictetus.
He was tutor of Pliny, the younger.
3. The pentathlos contended in five athletic exercises—viz., run
ning, leaping, throwing the quoit, throwing the javelin, wrestling.
204 NOTES.
4. Much of this must refer to the period of probation or disciple-
ship, for Epictetus is clear that the ordinary Stoic (who had not
embraced the special mission of Cynicism) was not required to forsake
his family, or his affairs, or his duties as a citizen, nor even justified
in doing so.

BOOK III.

Chapter II.

1. The husk is, of course, the body. If it is maintained that

Nature has made the ease of this our only proper pursuit, of coarse
the altruistic, or social instincts, have to be rejected and denied.
2. The text is here almost certainly corrupt. It runs irws oBc
iirororinKot iaiw, ots /j.i) <pvmK-rj kan irpbs ret ftp/ova <pikoaropyla. All
the MSS. agree in iirovorjrucol, for which Schweighauser desires to read
vpovorjrucol, and Wolf, In koividvikU. Salamasius declares emphatically
for ttcSs oSr tmvoeis $ti koivwvikoI ea/jiev, and this, with a slight altera
tion suggested to me by an eminent living scholar, is the reading I
have adopted. Let us suppose that Epictetus said rus odv imroth Sn
K.e., and that this was written in the short lines common in Greek
MSS. :—
HOSOTNTIIO
NOEIZOTIKOI
M2NIKOI
The middle line, beginning with the same letter as the third, might
easily be dropped by a transcriber, and the next transcriber would
certainly change the resulting iirovwvucol to inrocoijTi/coJ. The existing
reading might give the sense, " How are we, then, suspicious of those
(if any there be) to whom Nature has given no affection for their
offspring ? "
3. Outward things—such as making provision for one's family,
serving the State, etc. ,—actions which are not directly concerned with
our spiritual good.
 NOTES. 205

Chapter III.
1. Phrygia, the birth-place of Epictetus, was one of the great
centres of the wild and fearful cnlt of Cybele, whose priests gashed
and mutilated themselves in the excitement of the orgie.
2. Philosophy is brought upon the scene, speaking first through the
mouth of a Stoic, afterwards through that of an Epicurean, -and the
practical results of each system are exhibited.
3. The Athenians, rather than submit to Xerxes, abandoned their
city to be plundered, and took to their fleet, the victory at Salamis
rewarding their resolve.
Those who died at Thermopylae were the three hundred Spartans
under Leonidas, who held the pass against the Persian host till all
were slain. Often as their heroism has been celebrated, perhaps
nothing more worthy of their valour has been written than the
truly laconic epitaph composed for them by Simonides :—
" Stranger, the Spartans bade us die :
Go, tell them, thou, that here we lie."

Chapter IV.
1. The sense of human dignity was strong in Epictetus, and he
would have it practically observed in men's relations with each other.
Compare Ch. v. 7. Zeller must have overlooked these Fragments of
Epictetus when he asserted (p. 301) that no Stoic philosopher had ever
condemned slavery. So far as we know, however, this is the only
condemnation of that institution ever uttered by any Pagan thinker.
The usual Stoic view was laid down by Chrysippus, who defined the
slave very much as Carlyle does, as a " perpetuus mercenarius "—a
man " hired for life," from whom work was to be required, a just
return for it being accorded (operam exegendam, justa prcebenda).
This utterance of Epictetus, as of one who knew slavery from within,
and certainly was not inclined to exaggerate its discomforts, is
noteworthy enough.
2o6 NOTES.

Chapter V.

1. Administrator, 8iop9<orf)s ; in Latin, Corrector— a State officer of

whom inscriptions, etc., make frequent mention, but of whose
functions not much appears to be known beyond what the present
chapter of Epictetus reveals.
2. Cassiope was a port of Epirus, not far from Nicopolis, where
Epictetus taught. Schw. conjectures that Maximus was sending his
son to study philosophy at Nicopolis under Epictetus.

3. " For a correct view of these matters will reduce every movement
of preference and avoidance to health of body and tranquillity of soul ;
for this is the perfection of a happy life."—Epicurus, Diog. Laeri.
x. 128. Epictetus's analysis of the Epicurean theory amounts to this,
that the pleasure of the soul is the chief good, but that it is only felt
through the body and its conditions.
4. The overseer of youth.—An officer in certain Greek cities. See
Mahaffy's Greek Life and Thought, ch. xvii., on the organisation of
the ephebi.

5. Aid in works that are according to Nature. —The Greek is—b

toU kwtA tpiaw (pyois ira/Sa/c/MTj?. There is some difference of opinion
among commentators as to the meaning of wapa.icpaTy . Wolf translates,
"hold the chief place" in natural works. Upton, Schw., and Long
render it by " keep us constant," " sustain us," in such works. I do
not see why we should not take the word in its plainest sense—
that pleasure should act together with other forces in leading us to
do well.
Chapter VII.
1. Zealous for evil things. —Epictetus must mean things which they
know to be evil—evil things as evil. It was a Socratic doctrine which
we find again alluded to in this chapter, that no evil is ever willingly
or wittingly done.
 NOTES. 207
2. A favourite theme of later Greek and of Roman comedy was the
rivalahip in love of a father and a son.
3. Admetus, husband of Alcestis, being told by an oracle that his
wife must die if no one offered himself in her stead, thought to lay the
obligation on his father, as being an old man with but few more years
to live. The first verse quoted is from the Alcestis of Euripides ; the
second is not found in any extant version of that play.
i. Eteocles and Folyneices, sons of CEdipus, quarrelled with each
other about the inheritance of their father's kingdom. Eteocles having
gained possession of it, Folyneices brought up the famous seven kings,
his allies, against Thebes, and fell in battle there by his brother's
hand, whom he also killed. The verses quoted are from the Phcenissae
of Euripides.
5. Schweighauser interprets this passage to mean that these men
occupy the public places as wild beasts do the mountains, to prey on
others. If we might read lis t& Srjpla for is tA 6fnj, we should get a
less obscure sense, " haunt the wilderness—I should say the publio
places—like wild beasts." The passage is clearly corrupt somewhere.
6. Polyneices bribed Eriphyle with the gift of this necklace to
persuade her unwilling husband to march with him against Thebes
where he died.
Chapter VIII.
1. The allusion is to Odyssey, v. 82-4. " But he was sitting on the
beach and weeping, where he was wont ; and tormented his spirit
with tears and groanings and woes, and wept as he gazed over the
barren sea."
2. Let him pity. —See Bk. I., cb. viii., note 8.

Chapter IX.
1. The conflagration. —See Preface for an account of the Stoic
Doctrine of the Weltverbrennung.
208 NOTES.
2. Long suggests that the words translated " air to air " might be
equally well rendered " spirit to spirit" (taov nvev/utTlov eis wev/mnov),
thus finding a place for the soul in this enumeration of the elements
of man. But this metaphysical division of man's nature into a
spiritual part and a material part would have been wholly contrary
to Stoic teaching, which admitted no existence that was not material.
As a matter of fact, if any of the terms in this enumeration is to be
understood as meaning soul or spirit, it will be fire rather than air.
3. Gods and Powers. —Sedv ko.1 Aaj/tixwc.

Chapteb X.

1. To strangle lions or embrace statues. —Hercules did the former,

and ostentatious philosophers sometimes did the latter in winter-time,
by way of showing their power of endurance.

2. The stamp of Nero.—I believe there is no other record than this of

any rejection of Nero's coins, and those which have come down to us
are of perfectly good quality. He was declared a public enemy by the
Senate, and possibly it was decreed at the same time that his coins
should be withdrawn from circulation. Dion, quoted by Wise (apud
Schweigh'auser), reports that this was done in the case of Caligula, after
the death of that tyrant.

3. Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes.—" A proverb about the

Spartans, who were defeated in Asia," notes the Scholiast on Aristoph.
Pac, 1188-90.

BOOK IV.

Chapter II.

1. Nor can Imove without thy knowledge.—From Homer, H. x. 279,

280, Odysseus to Athene.
2. The Genius of each man. —top iKdarov Lalpova.
 NOTES. 209

Chapter III.
1. A way wherein to walk. —Literally, the power of using a way. It
seems to me likely that this term, way—656s, here signifies the Stoic
philosophy, just as in the early Church it was used to signify
Christianity (e.g., Acts xxii. i, and xix. 9, 28).

Chapter IV.
1. Nor have any object in themselves.—Headers of Lotze will be
reminded of the term Fiirsichseinheit, used by him to denote the self-
centred quality of true Being. The Greek here is oin aira wporryov/u-va,
irpo-qyoineva, being the word used in Bk. I. viii. 13, and Bk. III. v. 5,
for the leading objects or obligations of man.
2 Would that I had you with me /—In Long's translation the
pronoun you is explained to mean God. I can see no reason for this
interpretation. The words are, I think, supposed to be uttered by a
disciple to his master : they are such as Epictetus may have heard
from many of his own disciples as they left him to take their part in
the world of action.
3. Cautious assent—i.e., caution in allowing oneself to entertain the
impressions of appearances.

Chapter V.
1. The strong and growing yearning for some direct, personal revela
tion of God, some supernatural manifestation of His existence and
care for men, i* noted by Zeller as a special trait of Hellenistic times.
Such a revelation must have been longed for by many as the only
satisfying answer to the destructive logic of the Pyrrhonists, and
men's minds were also of course led that way by the insistence of the
Stoic thinkers upon the communion of the individual with God, as
the most important of all possible relations. Hence the growth of
many wild and orgiastic cults at this epoch—all based on the state of
2io NOTES.
ecstasy connected with their rites, which was ascribed to supernatural
influence. With the Stoics this movement took the comparatively
sober shape of attention to the established system of oracular divina
tion. Zeller, however, shows that some Stoics were disposed to
rationalise the revelations of the oracles by supposing a certain
sympathy between the mind of the seer and the future events which
led to the unconscious selection of means of divination which would
exhibit the proper signs. — (Z. 389, 340.) Epietetus evidently thought
more of God's revelation in the conscience than any other.
2. The story is told by Simplicius in his commentary on this
chapter. Two friends, journeying together to inquire of the oracle at
Delphi, were set upon by robbers ; one of them resisted, and was
murdered, the other either fled or made no effort on his companion's
behalf. Arriving at the temple of Apollo, he was greeted with the
following deliverance of the oracle :—
' ' Thou saw'st thy friend all undefended die—
Foul with that sin, from Phcebus' temple fly."

BOOK V.
Chapter I.
1. Simplicius explains that the oath was to be refused, because to call
God to witness in any merely human and earthly interest implies a
want of reverence towards Him ; but that if there were a question of
pledging one's faith on behalf of friends, or parents, or country, it was
not improper to add the confirmation of an oath.
2. Upton quotes allusions to these recitations from Juvenal, Martial,
and Pliny. Authors would read their own works and invite crowds of
flatterers to attend. Epict. Diss. Hi., 23. (Schweighauser), is a scornful
diatribe against the pretentious people who held forth on these
occasions, and the people who assembled to hear and applaud them.
He contrasts with fashionable reciters and lecturers his own master,
Eufus. " Eufus was wont to say, I speak to no purpose, if ye have time
 NOTES. 211

to praise me. And, verily, he spoke in such a way that every man who
sat there thought that some one had accused him to Rufus, he so
handled all that was going on, he so set before each man's eyes his
faults."
3. Into vulgarity—els ISiama/ibv.

Chaptbe II.
1. The sophism, or puzzle, called the Liar, ran thus :—A liar says he
lies : if it is true, he is no liar ; and if he lies, he is speaking truth.
The Quiescent (6 ^<rvxd^uv) was an invention attributed by Cicero to
Chrysippus (Acad, ii., 29). When asked of a gradually-increasing
number of things to say when they ceased to be few and became many,
he was wont to cease replying, or be "quiescent," shortly before the
limit was reached—a device which we have some difficulty in regard
ing as a fair example of Ohrysippus's contributions to the science of
logic. For the master sophism see Bk. II. chap, i, note 1.
2. Plato, Laws, ix :—" When any of such opinions visit thee, go to
the purifying sacrifices, go and pray in the temples of the protecting
Gods, go to the society of men whom thou hast heard of as good ; and
now hear from others, now say for thine own part, that it behoves
every man to hold in regard the things that are honourable and
righteous. But from the company of evil men, fly without a look
behind. And if in doing these things thy disease give ground, well ;
but if not, hold death the better choice, and depart from life."
8. The true athlete.—Literally, ascetic, dovop-ifa ; i.e., practiser.
4. The Dioscuri, or Twins, Castor and Pollux, were the patron
deities of sailors.
Chaptee VI.
1. If viewed disjunctively. —That is, if we say, It is day, or, It is
night. This is a difficult chapter, and full of corruptions. The feast
alluded to is, doubtless, the feast of life, where the Gods are the hosts.
 212 NOTES.

Chapter VII.
1. Wilder training. —Such as the Koman troops underwent when in
winter-quarters. They were accustomed to exercise themselves with
arms of double the normal weight, and prepare themselves by march
ing, running, leaping, etc, for active service.

Chapter XII.

1. The Pancratium was a contest in which boxing and wrestling

were both allowable. For the Pentathlon, see Bk. II. chap, xvii.,
note 3.

Chapter XVI.

1. This means, apparently, that the judgment has no right to do

more than endorse the deliverances of the perceptive faculty. If a
man commits any error, he does it under the conviction that it is in
some way for his profit or satisfaction ; that is, that there is some
thing of the nature of the Good in it. He may be mistaken in this ;
but so long as he does not know where Good and Evil really lie, he can
do no other than he does. The true course, then, for the philosopher
is not to condemn him for his actions, but to show him the
fundamental error from which they proceed. The expression,
" assent," avyKaTwrWeaBtu, is that used by Epictetus in II. vi., etc.,
where he speaks of the mind as being imposed on, or taken captive, by
the outward shows of things.

Chapter XX.

1. The Greek is 'Ejt«Mj \6yoj 'carle 6 SiapBpuv koX O-epyaltf/ievos tA

\oltA. SiapOp&u means, literally, to fashion with joints, hence con
stitute organically, with interdependence of parts. Long translates
"analyse."
 NOTES. 213
2. Modius. —A measure of about two gallons.

3. Antisthenes, about 400 B.C., founder of the Cynic school, which

was established by him in the gymnasium called the Cynosarges (hence
, the name). As a Cynic, his authority would, of course, be respected
by the hearers of Epictetus. This investigation of terms, or names,
is, indeed, the beginning of philosophy and the guide to truth in any
sphere, but perhaps not every one is competent to undertake it.
There must be a real and not merely a formal appreciation of the
contents of each term. A primrose is one thing to Peter Bell and
another to Wordsworth. The term, let us say, Duty, is one thing to
a Herbert Spencer and another to a Kant.

Chapter XXII.

1. " My friends, fly all culture," is an injnnction reported of

Epicurus.—(IHog. L. x. 6.) However, neglect of form in literary style
was a characteristic of all philosophic writers of the Hellenistic period,
and was by no means confined to the Epicureans.

2. This passage is corrupt. I follow the reading adopted by

Schweighauser (after Wolf) ; but it may be noted that Schweighauser's
translation follows another reading than that which he adopts in
his text, viz. — Kivovfitvov (being moved), instead of reuiofjAvov (being
strained). The original, in all versions, is yivofifrov, which makes
no sense at all. —See Preface, xxiii.

3. The writings enumerated are, of course, works of Epicurus.

When dying, he wrote in a letter to a friend (Diog. L. x. 22) that he
was spending a happy day, and his last.

4. Stoic airdOeia was anything but insensibility. Chrysippus held

that many things in the Kosmos were created for their beauty alone.—
Zeller, 171.
2i4 NOTES.
6. There is another short chapter on the arts of ratiocination and
expression (I. viii. Schw.), which glances at the subject from a some
what different point of view from that taken in the chapter which I
have given. There Epictetus dwells chiefly on the danger that weak
spirits should lose themselves in the fascination of these arts : " For,
in general, in every faculty acquired by the uninstructed and feeble
there is danger lest they be elated and puffed np through it. For
how could one contrive to persnade a young man who excels in such
things that he must not be an appendage to them, but make them
an appendage to him ? "

Chaffee XXVI.

X. The first of these quotations is from the Stoic Cleanthes, the

second from a lost play of Euripides ; in the third Epictetus has
joined together two sayings of Socrates, one from the Crito and one
from the Apologia? Anytus and Meletus were the principal accusers
of Socrates in the trial which ended in his sentence to death.
 NOTES ON THE PRINCIPAL PHILOSOPHIC
TERMS USED BY EPICTETUS.

[I give under this head only those terms the exact force of which may
not be apparent to the reader in a mere translation.]

MS-fniMv. —Pious, reverent, modest. The substantive is altiths, the

German Ehrfurcht ( Wilhelm Meister, Wanderjahre, Bk. II.
ch. ii.), a virtue in high regard with Epictetus, who generally
mentions it in connection with that of " faithfulness," vlans. In
Wordsworth's poem, *' My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow
in the sky," the " natural piety " which he prays may abide with
him in his old age seems to be just that moral sensitiveness or
alSiis which passes into reverence and worship in the presence of
certain things, and into shame and dread in that of others.

'Airdflaa. —Peace—that is, peace from passions, irdtfij. IldBos was any
affection of the mind causing joy or grief. As it appears from
Bk. II. Hi. 1., iiriSeia is not, in Epictetus, the state of absolute
freedom from these passions, but that of being able to master
them so that they shall not overwhelm the inner man.

AiapOpunKb.—That which organises, constitutes organically, forms

into a system. From ApOpov, a joint. The word "analyse," by
which Long translates SiapOpovv, seems to me wanting in the
formative sense expressed by the original.
2i6 NOTES.
A67/MU—An opinion, that which seems (SoKeTr) true ; generally in the
special sense of a philosophic dogma.

Eipoetv. —To prosper ; literally, to flow freely, ei'poia, prosperity. A

common Stoic phrase for a happy life.

E&rljSaa. —Religion, piety, atpo/im—"to feel awe or fear before God

and man, especially when about to do something disgraceful"
(Liddell and Scott) ; to worship, respect, reverence.

"ByepoviKdr (rb). —The Ruling Faculty—that in a man which chooses,

determines, takes cognizance of good and evil, and sways the
inferior faculties (dwd/jxis powers) to its will. Lotze notes this
hegemonic quality in the human soul as that which distinguishes
it from the bundle of sensations into which the Association
Philosophy would resolve it.

Oavfutfeiv. —To admire, be dazzled with admiration by, to worship, to

be taken up with a thing so as to lose the power of cool judgment.
A frequent word in Epictetus, the sense of which is precisely
rendered in Hor. Sal. 1, 4, 28, "Hunc capit argenti splendor,
stupet Albius sere."
'IS«frn;j.—One of the vulgar, an unlettered person ; in Epictetus, one
uninstrncted in philosophy. Originally the word meant one who
remained in private life, not filling any public office, or taking
part in State affairs. A man might be an Wiiinjs, or " layman,"
with respect to any branch of science or art.

KaXbs ical &ya96s. —The good and wise man—literally, beautiful and
good. A standing phrase to denote the perfection of human
character. raX6s is a word sometimes difficult to render. Curtius
connects it etymologically with Sanscrit, Tcalyas; Gothic, hath,
=healthy.
Otipa. —" Conceit "—defined by Cicero as " Opinatio "—intellectual
self-sufficiency, the supposing oneself to know something when
one does not. " The first business of a philosopher," says
Epictetus, "is to cast away ofyns, for it is impossible that one
can begin to learn the things that he thinks he knows" (Diss. II.
xvii. 1). He is not, in short, to be " wise in his own conceit."
 wmm

NOTES. 217

Spe^is, (kkXutis, bppJi, irpop/jj.—Pursuit, avoidance, desire, aversion.

According to Simplicius (Comment. Eneh. i.), 6'/>c£is and ftcitWu
were used by the Stoics to express the counterparts in outward
action of the mental affections, A/ytij and atpoppvq, and were regarded
as consequent upon the latter.

irpoo/peiris. —The "Will; but as used in Epictetus, this word implies

much more than the mere faculty of volition. Literally, it
means a choosing of one thing before another ; in Epictetus, the
power of deliberately resolving or purposing, the exercise of the
reflective faculty being implied. It is hardly to be distinguished
from rb iiye/wviK6v, q. v.

vpo\^\f/as.— " Natural Conceptions." See Preface, xxviii. , xxix. The

"primary truths" of Lord Herbert of Cherbury.

ZvyKaTorWarBai. —To assent to or acquiesce in anything, to ratify by

the judgment the emotions produced by external things or
events, such as the sense of dread, or pleasure, or reprobation,
which they arouse in us. To be on one's guard against the
hasty yielding of this assent is one of Epictetus's main injunctions
to the aspirant in philosophy.

TapdatreaBai. —To be troubled ; a-rapa^ta, tranquillity. Tapdvaeiv is

primarily to stir up, confuse, throw into disorder.

(pavrcurla.—An appearance ; with the Stoics, any mental impression

as received by
Dy the
tne perceptive faculty
taciut before the Reason has
nronounned
pronounced rnion
upon it.
it, a bare Dercention.
perception.
uwwMcwtmajg-
 \

INDEX OF REFERENCES.

[The references in the right-hand column are to the books, chapters, and
verses of the Dissertations, to the chapters of the Encheiridion, and to the
Fragments, in Schweigbauser's edition of Epictetus.]

BOOK I.
Chap. I. 1 Frag. III.
,» » 2-5 Diss. II. xi. 1-25.
Chap. II Diss. I. xxii. 1-16.
Chap. Ill Diss. I. i. 1-17.
Chap. IV. 1 Diss. III. iii. 1-4.
» » 2 Diss. I. xxix. 1-4 to Xt£|Se.
ii » 3 Diss. I. xxv. 1-6.
Chap. V Ench. I.
Chap. VI Diss. II. xiv.
Chap. VII. 1, 2 Ench. II.
„ „ 3 Diss. I. xv. 7, 8.
» „ 4-6 Diss. II. ix. 1-12.
„ „ 7 Frag. LXXII.
,, „ 8 Diss. III. xiii. 20-23.
Chap. VIII Diss. III. xxii.

BOOK II.
Chap. I £Hss. II. xix.
Chap. II. 1 Frag. LXIX.
„ „ 2,8 Diss. II. v. 1-9.
i, i, 4 Diss. II. xvi. 15.
„ „ 6, 6 Diss. II. vi. 9-19.
„ ., 7, 8 Diss. II. v. 10-20.
 INDEX OF REFERENCES.
Chap. III. 1, 2 Eneh. III., IV.
„ „ 3 Diss. III. xix.
„ „ 4,6 Ench. V., VI.
Chap. IV. 1, 2 Diss. III. ii. 1-10.
Chap. V. 1-3 Diss. II. i. 1-20.
„ „ 4 DUs. III. xxiv. 94.
„ „ 6 Diss. II. i. 21-29.
Chap. VI. 1 Frag. CLXXX.
„ „ 2 Diss. III. iii. 20-22.
Chap. VII. 1-3 Diss. I., xxvii.
Chap. VIII. 1 Diss. I. ix. 1-8.
„ , 2-5 Diss. III. xxvi. 1 36.
Chap. IX. 1 Diss. I. ix. 10-18.
„ „ 2 Diss. I. xxv. 14-20.
„ „ 8 Diss. I. xxix. 29.
Chap. X. 1-4. Diss. I. xix. 1-17.
„ „ 5-6 Diss. IV. vii. 12-18.
,, „ 7 Diss. I. xviii. 17.
„ „ 8 Diss. IV. vii. 19-24.
Chap. XI Diss. I. xviii. 1-16.
Chap. XII Ench. VII.
Chap. XIII. 1, 2 Ench. VIII.-IX.
Chap. XIII. 3-7 Diss. II. xvi. 24-47.
Chap. XIV Ench. X.
Chap. XV. Ench. XI.
Chap. XVI. Ench. XII.
Chap. XVII Ench. XIII.
Chap. XVIII. 1, 2 Ench. XIV.
„ „ 3 Diss. I. xxv. 22-25.
„ 4 Ench. XV.
Chap. XIX. ... Ench. XVI.
Chap. XX. 1 Ench. XVII.
„ „ 2 Diss. IV. x. 9-17.
Chap. XXI Ench. XVIII. -XXI.
Chap. XXII Ench. XXII., XXIII.
Chap. XXIII Ench. XXIV.
Chap. XXIV. Ench. XXV.
Chap. XXV Ench. XXVI., XXVII.
Chap. XXVI Ench. XXVIII.
Chap. XXVII Each. XXIX.
 INDEX OF REFERENCES. 221

BOOK III.
Chap. I Ench. XXX.
Chap. II. 1, i Dit». I. xxiii.
„ „ 3-7 Diss. II. v. 24-30.
Chap. III. 1-9 Diss. II. xx. 1-27.
Chap. IV. 1 Diss. I. xiii.
„ „ 2, 3 Frag. XLIII., XLIV.
Chap. V. Diss. III. vU.
Chap. VI. 1 Frag. LXXXII.
» „ 2 Frag.XLV.
Chap. VI. 3 Frag. LXVII.
Chap. VII Diss. II. xxii.
Chap. VIII. 1-10 Diss. III. xxiv. 1-49.
>> >^ H > 58-63.
>) >) 12 , ,, ,, 88-93.
Chap. IX. 1, 2 Diss. III. xiii. 1-17.
„ „ 3 Frag. CLXXVI.
„ „ 4 Diss. III. xiii. 18, 19.
Chap. X. 1 Frag. LXX.
„ „ 2 Diss. IV. v. 1-4.
>> » 3-5 „ 8-21.
» )> ' >> » 30-32.
" " 7' Diss
VISS- IV v -f
l v ■*■ 83 to t-wAfieros.
\ 35-87.

BOOK IV.
Chap. I Ench. XXXI.
Chap. II. 1, 2 Diss. I. xii. 1-7.
„ ,, 3, 4 Diss. I. xiv. 1-17.
Chap. Ill Diss. I. xvi.
Chap. IV. 1,2 Diss. II. viii. 1-8.
Chap. IV. 3 Diss. L vi. 13 from dXXo 22.
„ „ 4-8 Diss. II. viii. 9-29.
Chap. V. Ench. XXXII.

BOOK V.
Chap. I. 1-5 Ench. XXXIII. 1-6.
„ ,, 6 Diss. III. xvi. 5-9.
„ „ 7-16 Ench. XXXIII. 7-16.

'
222 INDEX OF REFERENCES.
Chap. II. 1-4 Diss. II., xviii. 1-21 to iiro9cw6vTuv
» it 5, 6 Diss. II. xviii. 23-32.
., ,. 7 Diss. IV. xii. 19-21.
Chap. III. 1, 2 Diss. II. xii. 1-4.
ii ii 3i 4 , „ „ 17-25.
Chap. IV. Ench. XXXIV.
Chap. V. Ench. XXXV.
Chap. VI Ench. XXXVI.
Chap. VII. 1 Ench. XXXVII.
i, i, 2 Diss. I. xi. 30-32.
Chap. VIII Ench. XXXVIII.
Chap. IX Ench. XXXIX.
Chap. X Ench. XL.
Chap. XI Ench. XLI.
Chap. XII. 1 Diss. III. i. 1-9.
ii . ii 2 Diss. „ „ 40-44.
., „ 3,4 Diss. IV. xi. 22-29.
ii ii *> ii ii ii 35,36.
Chap. XIII Ench. XLII.
Chap. XIV Ench. XLIII.
Chap. XV Ench. XLIV.
Chap. XVI. 1, 2 Ench. XLV.
,. 3 Diss. I. XXVIII. 1-9.
» '. * , 11-25.
Chap, XVII Ench. XLVI.
Chap. XVIII Ench. XLVII.
Chap. XIX Ench. XLVIII.
Chap. XX. 1 Diss. I. xvii. 1, 2.
•> " " ii ii ii 4-12.
Chap. XXI Ench. XLIX.
Chap. XXII. 1, 2 Diss. II. xxiii. 1-10.
>• .. 3-7 „ „ „ 20-47.
Chap. XXIII Ench. L.
Chap. XXIV Ench. LI.
Chap. XXV Ench. LII.
Chap. XXVI Ench. LIII.

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