Discourses

WHEN the need of each opinion comes, we ought to have it in readiness:[*](M. Antoninus, iii. 13. As physicians have always their instruments and knives ready for cases which suddenly require their skill, so do thou have principles (δόγματα) ready for the understanding of things divine and human, and for doing every thing, even the smallest, with a recollection of the bond which unites the divine and human to one another. For neither wilt thou do anything well which pertains to man without at the same time having a reference to things divine; nor the contrary.) on the occasion of breakfast, such opinions as relate to breakfast; in the bath, those that concern the bath; in bed, those that concern bed.

Let sleep not come upon thy languid eyes

Before each daily action thou hast scann’d;

What’s done amiss, what done, what left undone;

From first to last examine all, and then

Blame what is wrong, in what is right rejoice.

[*](These verses are from the Golden verses attributed to Pythagoras. See iv. 6. 32.)

And we ought to retain these verses in such way that we may use them, not that we may utter them aloud, as when we exclaim Paean Apollo.[*](The beginning of a form of prayer, as in Macrobius, Sat. i 17: namque Vestales Virgines ita indigitant; Apollo Maedice, Apollo Paean.) Again in fever we should have ready such opinions as concern a fever; and we ought not, as soon as the fever begins, to lose and forget all. (A man who has a fever) may say: If I philosophize any longer, may I be hanged: wherever I go, I must take care of the poor body, that a fever may not come.[*](This passage is obscure. See Schweig.’s note here, and also his note on a. 6.) But what is philosophizing? Is it not a preparation against events which may happen? Do you not understand that you are saying something of this kind? If I shall still prepare myself to bear with patience what happens, may I be hanged. But this is just as if a man after receiving

blows should give up the Pancratium. In the Pancratium it is in our power to desist and not to receive blows. But in the other matter if we give up philosophy, what shall we gain? What then should a man say on the occasion of each painful thing? It was for this that I exercised myself, for this I disciplined myself. God says to you, Give me a proof that you have duly practised athletics,[*](εἰ νομίμως ἤθλησας. St. Paul hath made use of this very expression ἐὰν μὴ νομίμως ἀθλήσῃ, 2 Tim. ii. 3. Mrs. Carter.) that you have eaten what you ought, that you have been exercised, that you have obeyed the aliptes (the oiler and rubber). Then do you show yourself weak when the time for action comes? Now is the time for the fever. Let it be borne well. Now is the time for thirst, bear it well; now is the time for hunger, bear it well. Is it not in your power? who shall hinder you? The physician will hinder you from drinking; but he cannot prevent you from bearing thirst well: and he will hinder you from eating; but he cannot prevent you from bearing hunger well.

But I cannot attend to my philosophical studies.[*](The Greek is οὐ φιλολογῶ. See Schweighaeuser’s note.) And for what purpose do you follow them? Slave, is it not that you may be happy, that you may be constant, is it not that you may be in a state conformable to nature and live so? What hinders you when you have a fever from having your ruling faculty conformable to nature? Here is the proof of the thing, here is the test of the philosopher. For this also is a part of life, like walking, like sailing, like journeying by land, so also is fever. Do you read when you are walking? No. Nor do you when you have a fever. But if you walk about well, you have all that belongs to a man who walks. If you bear a fever well, you have all that belongs to a man in a fever. What is it to bear a fever well? Not to blame God or man; not to be afflicted at that which happens, to expect death well and nobly, to do what must be done: when the physician comes in, not to be frightened at what he says; nor if he says, you are doing well,[*](See ii 18, 14.) to be overjoyed. For what good has he told you? and when you were in health, what good was that to you? And even if he says, you

are in a bad way, do not despond. For what is it to be ill? is it that you are near the severance of the soul and the body? what harm is there in this? If you are not near now, will you not afterwards be near? Is the world going to be turned upside down when you are dead? Why then do you flatter the physician?[*](Et quid opus Cratero magnos promittere montes? Persius, iii. 65. Craterus was a physician.) Why do you say if you please, master, I shall be well?[*](Upton compares Matthew, viii. 2. Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.) Why do you give him an opportunity of raising his eyebrows (being proud; or showing his importance)?[*](Compare M. Antoninus, iv. 48. τᾶς ὀφρῦς ... συσπάσαντες.) Do you not value a physician, as you do a shoemaker when he is measuring your foot, or a carpenter when he is building your house, and so treat the physician as to the body which is not yours, but by nature dead? He who has a fever has an opportunity of doing this: if he does these things, he has what belongs to him. For it is not the business of a philosopher to look after these externals, neither his wine nor his oil nor his poor body, but his own ruling power. But as to externals how must he act? so far as not to be careless about them. Where then is there reason for fear? where is there then still reason for anger, and of fear about what belongs to others, about things which are of no value? For we ought to have these two principles in readiness, that except the will nothing is good nor bad; and that we ought not to lead events, but to follow them.[*](To this Stoic precept Horace (Epist. i. 1. 19) opposes that of Aristippus. Et mihi res, non me rebus, subjungere conor. Both wisely said, if they are rightly taken. Schweig., who refers to i. 12. 17.)—My brother[*](Lord Shaftesbury proposed to read τὸν ἰατρόν for τὸν ἀδελφόν. But see Schweig.’s note.) ought not to have behaved thus to me.—No; but he will see to that: and, however he may behave, I will conduct myself towards him as I ought. For this is my own business: that belongs to another; no man can prevent this, the other thing can be hindered.

THERE are certain penalties fixed as by law for those who disobey the divine administration.[*](As to the divine law, see iii. 24. 32, and Xenophon’s Memorabilia, iv. 4. 21, etc. Upton.) Whoever thinks any other thing to be good except those things which depend on the will, let him envy, let him desire, let him flatter, let him be perturbed: whoever considers any thing else to be evil, let him grieve, let him lament, let him weep, let him be unhappy. And yet, though so severely punished, we cannot desist.

Remember what the poet[*](The poet is Homer. The complete passage is in the Odyssey, xiv. V. 55, etc. Stranger, I must not, e’en if a worse man come,Ill treat a stranger, for all come from Zeus,Strangers and poor.) says about the stranger:

1. Stranger, I must not, e’en if a worse man come.

This then may be applied even to a father: I must not, even if a worse man than you should come, treat a father unworthily; for all are from paternal Zeus. And (let the same be said) of a brother, for all are from the Zeus who presides over kindred. And so in the other relations of life we shall find Zeus to be an inspector.

WE ought not to make our exercises consist in means contrary to nature and adapted to cause admiration, for if we do so, we who call ourselves philosophers, shall not differ at all from jugglers. For it is difficult even to

walk on a rope; and not only difficult, but it is also dangerous. Ought we for this reason to practise walking on a rope, or setting up a palm tree,[*](To set up a palm tree. He does not mean a real palm tree, but something high and upright. The climbers of palm trees are mentioned by Lucian, de Dea Syria (c. 29). Schweigh. has given the true interpretation when he says that on certain feast days in the country a high piece of wood is fixed in the earth and climbed by the most active youths by using only their hands and feet. In England we know what this is. It is said that Diogenes used to embrace statues when they were covered with snow for the purpose of exercising himself. I suppose bronze statues, not marble which might be easily broken. The man would not remain long in the embrace of a metal statue in winter. But perhaps the story is not true. I have heard of a general, not an English general, setting a soldier on a cold cannon; but it was as a punishment.) or embracing statues? By no means. Every thing which is difficult and dangerous is not suitable for practice; but that is suitable which conduces to the working out of that which is proposed to us. And what is that which is proposed to us as a thing to be worked out? To live with desire and aversion (avoidance of certain things) free from restraint. And what is this? Neither to be disappointed in that which you desire, nor to fall into any thing which you would avoid. Towards this object then exercise (practice) ought to tend. For since it is not possible to have your desire not disappointed and your aversion free from falling into that which you would avoid, without great and constant practice, you must know that if you allow your desire and aversion to turn to things which are not within the power of the will, you will neither have your desire capable of attaining your object, nor your aversion free from the power of avoiding that which you would avoid. And since strong habit leads (prevails), and we are accustomed to employ desire and aversion only to things which are not within the power of our will, we ought to oppose to this habit a contrary habit, and where there is great slipperiness in the appearances, there to oppose the habit of exercise.

I am rather inclined to pleasure: I will incline to the contrary side[*](ἀνατοιχήσω. See the note of Schweighaeuser.) above measure for the sake of exercise. I

am averse to pain: I will rub and exercise against this the appearances which are presented to me for the purpose of withdrawing my aversion from every such thing. For who is a practitioner in exercise? He who practises not using his desire, and applies his aversion only to things which are within the power of his will, and practises most in the things which are difficult to conquer. For this reason one man must practise himself more against one thing and another against another thing. What then is it to the purpose to set up a palm tree, or to carry about a tent of skins, or a mortar and pestle?[*](This was done for the sake of exercise says Upton; but I don’t understand the passage.) Practise, man, if you are irritable, to endure if you are abused, not to be vexed if you are treated with dishonour. Then you will make so much progress that, even if a man strikes you you will say to yourself, Imagine that you have embraced a statue: then also exercise yourself to use wine properly so as not to drink much, for in this also there are men who foolishly practise themselves; but first of all you should abstain from it, and abstain from a young girl and dainty cakes. Then at last, if occasion presents itself, for the purpose of trying yourself at a proper time you will descend into the arena to know if appearances overpower you as they did formerly. But at first fly far from that which is stronger than yourself: the contest is unequal between a charming young girl and a beginner in philosophy. The earthen pitcher, as the saying is, and the rock do not agree.[*](There is a like fable in Aesop of the earthen pitcher and the brazen. Upton.)

After the desire and the aversion comes the second topic (matter) of the movements towards action and the withdrawals from it; that you may be obedient to reason, that you do nothing out of season or place, or contrary to any propriety of the kind.[*](The text has ἀσυμμετρίαν. It would be easier to understand the passage, if we read συμμετριάν, as in iv. 1, 84 we have παρὰ τὰ μέτρα. See Schweig.’s note.) The third topic concerns the assents, which is related to the things which are persuasive and attractive. For as Socrates said, we ought not

to live a life without examination,[*](See i. 26, 18, and iii. 2, 5.) so we ought not to accept an appearance without examination, but we should say, Wait, let me see what you are and whence you come; like the watch at night (who says) Show me the pass (the Roman tessera).[*](Polybius vi. 36.) Have you the signal from nature which the appearance that may be accepted ought to have? And finally whatever means are applied to the body by those who exercise it, if they tend in any way towards desire and aversion, they also may be fit means of exercise; but if they are for display, they are the indications of one who has turned himself towards something external and who is hunting for something else and who looks for spectators who will say, Oh the great man. For this reason Apollonius said well, When you intend to exercise yourself for your own advantage, and you are thirsty from heat, take in a mouthful of cold water, and spit it out and tell nobody.[*](Schweighaeuser refers to Arrian’s Expedition of Alexander (vi. 26) for such an instance of Alexander’s abstinence. There was an Apollonius of Tyana, whose life was written by Philostratus: but it may be that this is not the man who is mentioned here.)

SOLITUDE is a certain condition of a helpless man. For because a man is alone, he is not for that reason also solitary; just as though a man is among numbers, he is not therefore not solitary. When then we have lost either a brother, or a son or a friend on whom we were accustomed to repose, we say that we are left solitary, though we are often in Rome, though such a crowd meet us, though so many live in the same place, and sometimes we have a great number of slaves. For the man who is solitary, as

It is conceived, is considered to be a helpless person and exposed to those who wish to harm him. For this reason when we travel, then especially do we say that we are lonely when we fall among robbers, for it is not the sight of a human creature which removes us from solitude, but the sight of one who is faithful and modest and helpful to us. For if being alone is enough to make solitude, you may say that even Zeus is solitary in the conflagration[*](This was the doctrine of Heraclitus that all things were composed from (had their origin in) fire, and were resolved into it, an opinion afterwards adopted by the Stoics. It is not so extravagant, as it may appear to some persons, to suppose that the earth had a beginning, is in a state of continual change, and will finally be destroyed in some way, and have a new beginning. See Seneca, Ep. 9 cum resolute mundo, diis in unum confusis, paulisper oessante natura, adquiescit sibi Jupiter, cogitationibus suis traditus.) and bewails himself saying, Unhappy that I am who have neither Hera, nor Athena, nor Apollo, nor brother, nor son, nor descendant nor kinsman. This is what some say that he does when he is alone at the conflagration.[*](The Latin translation is: hoc etiam nonnulli facturum eum in conflagratione mundi . . . . aiunt. But the word is ποιεῖ; and this may mean that the conflagration has happened, and will happen again. The Greek philosophers in their speculations were not troubled with the consideration of time. Even Herodotus (ii. 11), in his speculations on the gulf, which he supposes that the Nile valley was once, speaks of the possibility of it being filled up in 20,000 years, or less. Modern speculators have only recently become bold enough to throw aside the notion of the earth and the other bodies in space being limited by time, as the ignorant have conceived it.) For they do not understand how a man passes his life when he is alone, because they set out from a certain natural principle, from the natural desire of community and mutual love and from the pleasure of conversation among men. But none the less a man ought to be prepared in a manner for this also (being alone), to be able to be sufficient for himself and to be his own companion. For as Zeus dwells with himself, and is tranquil by himself, and thinks of his own administration and of its nature, and is employed in thoughts suitable to himself; so ought we also to be able to talk with ourselves, not to feel the want of others also, not to be unprovided with the means of passing our time; to observe the divine administration, and the relation of ourselves to every thing else; to consider how we formerly were affected towards things that happen and how at present; what are still the things which give us pain; how these also can be cured and how removed; if any things require improvement, to improve them according to reason.

For you see that Caesar appears to furnish us with great peace, that there are no longer enemies nor battles nor great associations of robbers nor of pirates, but we can travel at every hour and sail from east to west. But can Caesar give us security from fever also, can he from shipwreck, from fire, from earthquake or from lightning? well, I will say, can he give us security against love? He cannot. From sorrow? He cannot. From envy? He cannot. In a word then he cannot protect us from any of these things. But the doctrine of philosophers promises to give us security (peace) even against these things. And what does it say? Men, if you will attend to me, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, you will not feel sorrow, nor anger, nor compulsion, nor hindrance, but you will pass your time without perturbations and free from every thing. When a man has this peace, not proclaimed by Caesar, (for how should he be able to proclaim it?), but by God through reason, is he not content when he is alone? when he sees and reflects, Now no evil can happen to me; for me there is no robber, no earthquake, every thing is full of peace, full of tranquillity: every way, every city, every meeting, neighbour, companion is harmless. One person whose business it is, supplies me with food;[*](See iii. 1, 43.) another with raiment; another with perceptions, and preconceptions (προλήψεις). And if he does not supply what is necessary, he (God) gives the signal for retreat, opens the door, and says to you, Go. Go whither? To nothing terrible, but to the place from which you came, to your friends and kinsmen, to the elements:[*](What a melancholy description of death and how gloomy the ideas in this consolatory chapter! All beings reduced to mere elements in successive conflagrations! A noble contrast to the Stoic notions on this subject may be produced from several passages in the Scripture—Then shall the dust return to the earth, as it was; and the spirit shall return to God who gave it, Eccles. xii. 7. Mrs. Carter; who also refers to 1 Thess. iv. 14; John vi. 39, 40; xi. 25, 26; I Cor. vi. 14; xv. 53; 2 Cor. v. 14 etc. Mrs. Carter quotes Ecclesiastes, but the author says nearly what Epicharmus said, quoted by Plutarch, παραμυθ. πρὸς Ἀπολλώνιον, vol. i. p. 435 ed. Wytt. συνεκρίθη καὶ διεκρίθη καὶ ἀπῆλθεν ὅθεν ἦλθε πάλιν,γᾶ μὲν ἐς γᾶν, πνεῦμα δ’ ἄνω τί τῶνδε χαλεπόν; οὐδὲ ἕν. Euripides in a fragment of the Chrysippus, fr. 836, ed. Nauck, says τὰ μὲν ἐκ γαίας φύντ’ εἰς γαῖαν,τὰ δ’ ἀπ’ αἰθερίου βλαστόντα γονῆςεἰς οὐράνιον πάλιν ἦλθε πόλον. I have translated the words of Epictetus ὅσον πνευματίου, εἰς πνευμάτιον by of air (spirit), to air: but the πνευμάτιον of Epictetus may mean the same as the πνεῦμα of Epicharmus, and the same as the spirit of Ecclesiastes.An English commentator says that the doctrine of a future retribution forms the great basis and the leading truth of this book (Ecclesiastes), and that the royal Preacher (Ecclesiastes) brings forward the prospect of a future life and retribution. I cannot discover any evidence of this assertion in the book. The conclusion is the best part of this ill-connected, obscure and confused book, as it appears in our translation. The conclusion is (xii. 13, 14): Fear God and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man, for God shall bring every work into judgment with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil. This is all that I can discover in the book which can support the commentator’s statement; and even this may not mean what he affirms.Schweighaeuser observes that here was the opportunity for Epictetus to say something of the immortality of the soul, if he had any thing to say. But he says nothing unless he means to say that the soul, the spirit, returns to God who gave it as the Preacher says. There is a passage (iii. 24, 94) which appears to mean that the soul of man after death will be changed into something else, which the universe will require for some use or purpose. It is strange, observes Schweig., that Epictetus, who studied the philosophy of Socrates, and speaks so eloquently of man’s capacity and his duty to God, should say no more: but the explanation may be that he had no doctrine of man’s immortality, in the sense in which that word is now used.) what there was in you of fire goes

to fire; of earth, to earth; of air (spirit), to air; of water to water: no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Cocytus, nor Pyriphlegethon, but all is full of Gods and Daemons. When a man has such things to think on, and sees the sun, the moon and stars, and enjoys earth and sea, he is not solitary nor even helpless. Well then, if some man should come upon me when I am alone and murder me? Fool, not murder You, but your poor body.

What kind of solitude then remains? what want? why do we make ourselves worse than children? and what do children do when they are left alone? They take up shells and ashes, and they build something, then pull it down, and build something else, and so they never want the means of passing the time. Shall I then, if you sail away, sit down and weep, because I have been left alone and solitary? Shall I then have no shells, no ashes? But children do what they do through want of thought (or deficiency in knowledge), and we through knowledge are unhappy.

Every great power (faculty) is dangerous to beginners.[*](The text has ἀρχομένων, but it probably ought to be ἀρχομένῳ. Compare i. 1, 8, πᾶσα δύναμις ἐπισφαλής. The text from φέρειν οὖν δεῖ to τῷ φθισικῷ is unintelligible. Lord Shaftesbury says that the passage is not corrupt, and he gives an explanation; but Schweig. says that the learned Englishman’s exposition does not make the text plainer to him; nor does it to me. Schweig. observes that the passage which begins πᾶσα μεγάλη and what follows seem to belong to the next chapter xiv.) You must then bear such things as you are able, but conformably to nature: but not . . . . Practise sometimes a way of living like a person out of health that you may at some time live like a man in health. Abstain from food, drink water, abstain sometimes altogether from desire, in order that you may some time desire consistently with reason; and if consistently with reason, when you have anything good in you, you will desire well.—Not so; but we wish to live like wise men immediately and to be useful to men—Useful how? what are you doing? have you been useful to yourself? But, I suppose, you wish to exhort them? You exhort them You wish to be useful to them. Show to them in your own example what kind of men philosophy makes, and don’t trifle. When you are eating, do good to those who eat with you; when you are drinking, to those who are drinking with you; by yielding to all, giving way, bearing with them, thus do them good, and do not spit on them your phlegm (bad humours).

As bad[*](All the MSS. have good (καλοί), which the Critics have properly corrected. As to σκόπει see Schweig.’s note.) tragic actors cannot sing alone, but in company with many: so some persons cannot walk about alone. Man, if you are anything, both walk alone and talk to yourself, and do not hide yourself in the chorus. Examine a little at last, look around, stir yourself up, that you may know who you are.

When a man drinks water, or does anything for the sake of practice (discipline), whenever there is an opportunity he tells it to all: I drink water. Is it for this that you drink water, for the purpose of drinking water? Man, if it is good for you to drink, drink; but if not, you are acting ridiculously. But if it is good for you and you do drink, say nothing about it to those who are displeased with water-drinkers. What then, do you wish to please these very men?

Of things that are done some are done with a final purpose (προηγουμένως), some according to occasion, others with a certain reference to circumstances, others for the purpose of complying with others, and some according to a fixed scheme of life.[*](This section is not easy to translate.)

You must root out of men these two things, arrogance (pride) and distrust. Arrogance then is the opinion that you want nothing (are deficient in nothing): but distrust is the opinion that you cannot be happy when so many circumstances surround you. Arrogance is removed by confutation; and Socrates was the first who practised this. And (to know) that the thing is not impossible inquire and seek. This search will do you no harm; and in a manner this is philosophizing, to seek how it is possible to employ desire and aversion (ἐκκλίσει) without impediment.

I am superior to you, for my father is a man of consular rank. Another says, I have been a tribune, but you have

not. If we were horses, would you say, My father was swifter? I have much barley and fodder, or elegant neck ornaments. If then while you were saying this, I said, Be it so: let us run then. Well, is there nothing in a man such as running in a horse, by which it will be known which is superior and inferior? Is there not modesty (αἰδὼς), fidelity, justice? Show yourself superior in these, that you may be superior as a man. If you tell me that you can kick violently, I also will say to you, that you are proud of that which is the act of an ass.

[*](Compare Encheiridion 29. This chapter has a great conformity to Luke xiv. 28 etc. But it is to be observed that Epictetus, both here and elsewhere, supposes some persons incapable of being philosophers; that is, virtuous and pious men: but Christianity requires and enables all to be such. Mrs. Carter. The passage in Luke contains a practical lesson, and so far is the same as the teaching of Epictetus: but the conclusion in v. 33 does not appear to be helped by what immediately precedes v. 28–32. The remark that Christianity enables all to be such is not true, unless Mrs. Carter gives to the word enables a meaning which I do not see. )

IN every act consider what precedes and what follows, and then proceed to the act. If you do not consider, you will at first begin with spirit, since you have not thought at all of the things which follow; but afterwards when some consequences have shown themselves, you will basely desist (from that which you have begun).—I wish to conquer at the Olympic games.—[And I too, by the gods: for it is a fine thing]. But consider here what precedes and what follows; and then, if it is for your good, undertake the thing. You must act according to rules, follow strict diet, abstain from delicacies, exercise yourself by compulsion at fixed times, in heat, in cold; drink no cold

water, nor wine, when there is opportunity of drinking it.[*](The commentators refer us to Paul, 1 Cor. c. 9, 25. Compare Horace, Ars Poetica, 39:Versate diu quid ferre recusent,Quid valeant humeri.) In a word you must surrender yourself to the trainer, as you do to a physician. Next in the contest, you must be covered with sand,[*](Wolf thought that the word παρορύσσεσθαι might mean the loss of an eye; but other commentators give the word a different meaning. See Schweigh.’s note.) sometimes dislocate a hand, sprain an ankle, swallow a quantity of dust, be scourged with the whip; and after undergoing all this, you must sometimes be conquered. After reckoning all these things, if you have still an inclination, go to the athletic practice. If you do not reckon them, observe you will behave like children who at one time play as wrestlers, then as gladiators, then blow a trumpet, then act a tragedy, when they have seen and admired such things. So you also do: you are at one time a wrestler (athlete), then a gladiator, then a philosopher, then a rhetorician; but with your whole soul you are nothing: like the ape you imitate all that you see; and always one thing after another pleases you, but that which becomes familiar displeases you. For you have never undertaken any thing after consideration, nor after having explored the whole matter and put it to a strict examination; but you have undertaken it at hazard and with a cold desire. Thus some persons having seen a philosopher and having heard one speak like Euphrates[*](In place of Euphrates the Encheiridion 29 had in the text Socrates, which name the recent editors of the Encheiridion altered to Euphrates, and correctly. The younger Pliny (i. Ep. 10) speaks in high terms of the merits and attractive eloquence of this Syrian philosopher Euphrates, who is mentioned by M. Antoninus (x. 31) and by others.)— and yet who can speak like him?—wish to be philosophers themselves.

Man, consider first what the matter is (which you propose to do), then your own nature also, what it is able to bear. If you are a wrestler, look at your shoulders, your thighs, your loins: for different men are naturally formed for different things. Do you think that, if you do (what

you are doing daily), you can be a philosopher? Do you think that you can eat as you do now, drink as you do now, and in the same way be angry and out of humour? You must watch, labour, conquer certain desires, you must depart from your kinsmen, be despised by your slave, laughed at by those who meet you, in every thing you must be in an inferior condition, as to magisterial office, in honours, in courts of justice. When you have considered all these things completely, then, if you think proper, approach to philosophy, if you would gain in exchange for these things freedom from perturbations, liberty, tranquillity. If you have not considered these things, do not approach philosophy: do not act like children, at one time a philosopher, then a tax collector, then a rhetorician, then a procurator (officer) of Caesar. These things are not consistent. You must be one man either good or bad: you must either labour at your own ruling faculty or at external things: you must either labour at things within or at external things: that is, you must either occupy the place of a philosopher or that of one of the vulgar.

A person said to Rufus[*](Rufus was a philosopher. See i. 1, i. 9. Galba is the emperor Galba, who was murdered. The meaning of the passage is rather obscure, and it is evident that it does not belong to this chapter. Lord Shaftesbury remarks that this passage perhaps belongs to chapter 11 or 14, or perhaps to the end of chapter 17.) when Galba was murdered, Is the world now governed by Providence? But Rufus replied, Did I ever incidentally form an argument from Galba that the world is governed by Providence?

IF a man has frequent intercourse with others either for talk, or drinking together, or generally for social purposes, he must either become like them, or change them to his

own fashion. For if a man places a piece of quenched charcoal close to a piece that is burning, either the quenched charcoal will quench the other, or the burning charcoal will light that which is quenched. Since then the danger is so great, we must cautiously enter into such intimacies with those of the common sort, and remember that it is impossible that a man can keep company with one who is covered with soot without being partaker of the soot himself. For what will you do f a man speaks about gladiators, about horses, about athletes, or what is worse about men? Such a person is bad, such a person is good: this was well done, this was done badly. Further, if he scoff, or ridicule, or show an ill-natured disposition? Is any man among us prepared like a lute-player when he takes a lute, so that as soon as he has touched the strings, he discovers which are discordant, and tunes the instrument? such a power as Socrates had who in all his social intercourse could lead his companions to his own purpose? How should you have this power? It is therefore a necessary consequence that you are carried about by the common kind of people.

Why then are they more powerful than you? Because they utter these useless words from their real opinions: but you utter your elegant words only from your lips; for this reason they are without strength and dead, and it is nauseous[*](The word is σικχᾶναι. See Antoninus v. 9.) to listen to your exhortations and your miserable virtue, which is talked of every where (up and down). In this way the vulgar have the advantage over you: for every opinion (δόγμα) is strong and invincible. Until then the good (κομψαί) sentiments (ὑπολήψεις) are fixed in you, and you shall have acquired a certain power for your security, I advise you to be careful in your association with common persons: if you are not, every day like wax in the sun there will be melted away whatever you inscribe on your minds in the school. Withdraw then yourselves far from the sun so long as you have these waxen sentiments. For this reason also philosophers advise men to leave their native country, because antient habits distract them and do not allow a beginning to be

made of a different habit; nor can we tolerate those who meet us and say: See such a one is now a philosopher, who was once so and so. Thus also physicians send those who have lingering diseases to a different country and a different air; and they do right. Do you also introduce other habits than those which you have: fix your opinions and exercise yourselves in them. But you do not so: you go hence to a spectacle, to a show of gladiators, to a place of exercise (ξυστόν), to a circus; then you come back hither, and again from this place you go to those places, and still the same persons. And there is no pleasing (good) habit, nor attention, nor care about self and observation of this kind, How shall I use the appearances presented to me? according to nature, or contrary to nature? how do I answer to them? as I ought, or as I ought not? Do I say to those things which are independent of the will, that they do not concern me? For if you are not yet in this state, fly from your former habits, fly from the common sort, if you intend ever to begin to be something.

WHEN you make any charge against Providence, consider, and you will learn that the thing has happened according to reason.—Yes, but the unjust man has the advantage.— In what?—In money.—Yes, for he is superior to you in this, that he flatters, is free from shame, and is watchful. What is the wonder? But see if he has the advantage over you in being faithful, in being modest: for you will not find it to be so; but wherein you are superior, there you will find that you have the advantage. And I once said to a man who was vexed because Philostorgus was fortunate: Would you choose to lie with Sura?[*](Upton suggests that Sura may be Palfurius (Juvenal, iv. 53), or Palfurius Sura (Suetonius, Domitian, c. 13).)—

May it never happen, he replied, that this day should come? Why then are you vexed, if he receives something in return for that which he sells; or how can you consider him happy who acquires those things by such means as you abominate; or what wrong does Providence, if he gives the better things to the better men? Is it not better to be modest than to be rich?—He admitted this—Why are you vexed then, man, when you possess the better thing? Remember then always and have in readiness the truth, that this is a law of nature, that the superior has an advantage over the inferior in that in which he is superior; and you will never be vexed.

But my wife treats me badly.—Well, if any man asks you what this is, say, my wife treats me badly—Is there then nothing more? Nothing.—My father gives me nothing–[What is this? my father gives me nothing—Is there nothing else then?—Nothing][*](See Schweig.’s note.): but to say that this is an evil is something which must be added to it externally, and falsely added. For this reason we must not get rid of poverty, but of the opinion about poverty, and then we shall be happy.

WHEN any thing shall be reported to you which is of a nature to disturb, have this principle in readiness, that the news is about nothing which is within the power of your will. Can any man report to you that you have formed a bad opinion, or had a bad desire? By no means. But perhaps he will report that some person is dead. What then is that to you? He may report that some person speaks ill of you. What then is that to you? Or that your father is planning something or other. Against whom? Against your will (προαίρεσις)? How can he? But is it against your poor body, against your little property?

You are quite safe: it is not against you. But the judge declares that you have committed an act of impiety. And did not the judges (δίκασται) make the same declaration against Socrates? Does it concern you that the judge has made this declaration? No. Why then do you trouble yourself any longer about it? Your father has a certain duty, and if he shall not fulfil it, he loses the character of a father, of a man of natural affection, of gentleness. Do not wish him to lose any thing else on this account. For never does a man do wrong in one thing, and suffer in another. On the other side it is your duty to make your defence firmly, modestly, without anger: but if you do not, you also lose the character of a son, of a man of modest behavior, of generous character. Well then, is the judge free from danger? No; but he also is in equal danger. Why then are you still afraid of his decision? What have you to do with that which is another man’s evil? It is your own evil to make a bad defence: be on your guard against this only. But to be condemned or not to be condemned, as that is the act of another person, so it is the evil of another person. A certain person threatens you. Me? No. He blames you. Let him see how he manages his own affairs. He is going to condemn you unjustly. He is a wretched man.

THE first difference between a common person (ἰδιώτης) and a philosopher is this: the common person says, Woe to me for my little child, for my brother, for my father.[*](Compare iii. 5. 4.) The philosopher, if he shall ever be compelled to say, Woe to me, stops and says, but for myself. For nothing which is independent of the will can hinder or damage

the will, and the will can only hinder or damage itself. If then we ourselves incline in this direction, so as, when we are unlucky, to blame ourselves and to remember that nothing else is the cause of perturbation or loss of tranquillity except our own opinion, I swear to you by all the gods that we have made progress. But in the present state of affairs we have gone another way from the beginning. For example, while we were still children, the nurse, if we ever stumbled through want of care, did not chide us, but would beat the stone. But what did the stone do? Ought the stone to have moved on account of your child’s folly? Again, if we find nothing to eat on coming out of the bath, the paedagogue never checks our appetite, but he flogs the cook. Man, did we make you the paedagogue of the cook and not of the child?[*](I have not followed Schweighaeuser’s text here. See his note.) Correct the child, improve him. In this way even when we are grown up we are like children. For he who is unmusical is a child in music; he who is without letters is a child in learning: he who is untaught, is a child in life.

IN the case of appearances which are objects of the vision,[*](The original is θεωρητικῶν φαντασιῶν, which is translated in the Latin version visa theoretica, but this does not help us. Perhaps the author means any appearances which are presented to us either by the eyes or by the understanding; but I am not sure what he means. It is said in the Index Graecitatis (Schweig.’s ed.): φαντασίαι θεωρητικαί, notiones theoretical, iii. 20. 1, quibus opponuntur Practicae ad vitam regendam spectantes.) nearly all have allowed the good and the evil to be in ourselves, and not in externals. No one gives the name of good to the fact that it is day, nor bad to the fact that it is night, nor the name of the greatest evil to the opinion that three are four. But what do men say? They

say that knowledge is good, and that error is bad; so that even in respect to falsehood itself there is a good result, the knowledge that it is falsehood. So it ought to be in life also. Is health a good thing, and is sickness a bad thing? No, man. But what is it? To be healthy, and healthy in a right way, is good: to be healthy in a bad way is bad; so that it is possible to gain advantage even from sickness, I declare. For is it not possible to gain advantage even from death, and is it not possible to gain advantage from mutilation? Do you think that Menoeceus gained little by death?[*](Menoeceus, the son of Creon, gave up his life by which he would save his country, as it was declared by an oracle. (Cicero, Tuscul. i. e. 48.) Juvenal (Sat. xiv. 238) says Quarum Amor in teQuantus erat patriae Declorum in pectore; quantumDilexit Thebas, si Graecia vera, Menoeceus.Euripides, Phoenissae, v. 913.) Could a man who says so, gain so much as Menoeceus gained? Come, man, did he not maintain the character of being a lover of his country, a man of great mind, faithful, generous? And if he had continued to live, would he not have lost all these things? would he not have gained the opposite? would he not have gained the name of coward, ignoble, a hater of his country, a man who feared death?[*](See Schweig.’s note.) Well, do you think that he gained little by dying? I suppose not. But did the father of Admetus[*](The father of Admetus was Phe es (Euripides, Alcestis)) gain much by prolonging his life so ignobly and miserably? Did he not die afterwards? Cease, I adjure you by the gods, to admire material things. Cease to make yourselves slaves, first of things, then on account of things slaves of those who are able to give them or take them away.

Can advantage then be derived from these things? From all; and from him who abuses you. Wherein does the man who exercises before the combat profit the athlete? Very greatly. This man becomes my exerciser before the combat: he exercises me in endurance, in keeping my temper, in mildness. You say no: but he, who lays hold of my neck and disciplines my loins and shoulders,

does me good; and the exercise master (the aliptes, or oiler) does right when he says; Raise him up with both hands, and the heavier he (ἐκεῖνος) is, so much the more is my advantage.[*](The meaning is not clear, if we follow the original text. Schweig. cannot see the sense with both hands in the Greek, nor can I. He also says that in the words ἆρον ὑπὲρ ἀμφοτέρας unless some masculine noun is understood which is not expressed, ἐκεῖνος must be referred to the aliptes; and he translates βαρύτερος by severior.) But if a man exercises me in keeping my temper, does he not do me good?—This is not knowing how to gain an advantage from men. Is my neighbour bad? Bad to himself, but good to me: he exercises my good disposition, my moderation. Is my father bad? Bad to himself, but to me good. This is the rod of Hermes: touch with it what you please, as the saying is, and it will be of gold. I say not so: but bring what you please, and I will make it good.[*](Mrs. Carter quotes the epistle to the Romans (viii. 28): and we snow that all things work together for good to them that love God; but she quotes only the first part of the verse and omits the conclusion, to them who are the called according to his purpose.) Bring disease, bring death, bring poverty, bring abuse, bring trial on capital charges: all these things through the rod of Hermes shall be made profitable. What will you do with death? Why, what else than that it shall do you honour, or that it shall show you by act through it,[*](See Schweig.’s note.) what a man is who follows the will of nature? What will you do with disease? I will show its nature, I will be conspicuous in it, I will be firm, I will be happy, I will not flatter the physician, I will not wish to die. What else do you seek? Whatever you shall give me, I will make it happy, fortunate, honoured, a thing which a man shall seek.

You say No: but take care that you do not fall sick: it is a bad thing. This is the same as if you should say, Take care that you never receive the impression (appearance) that three are four: that is bad. Man, how is it bad? If I think about it as I ought, how shall it then do me any damage? and shall it not even do me good? If then I think about poverty as I ought to do, about disease, about not having office,[*](ἀναρχίας; see iv. 4, 2 and 23.) is not that enough for me? will it not be an advantage?

How then ought I any longer to look to seek evil and good in externals? What happens? these doctrines are maintained here, but no man carries them away home; but immediately every one is at war with his slave, with his neighbours, with those who have sneered at him, with those who have ridiculed him. Good luck to Lesbius,[*](Some abusive fellow, known to some of the hearers of Epictetus. We ought perhaps to understand the words as if it were said, each of you ought to say to himself, Good luck to Lesbius etc. Schweig.’s note.) who daily proves that I know nothing.