Discourses
Epictetus
Epictetus. The Works of Epictetus, His Discourses, in Four Books, the Enchiridion, and Fragments. Higginson, Thomas Wentworth, translator. New York: Thomas Nelson and Sons. 1890.
I neither composed the Discourses of Epictetus in the sense in which things of this nature can properly be said to have been composed, nor did I myself produce them to public view, any more than I composed them. But whatever I heard from his own mouth, that I tried to set down in the very same words, so far as possible, and to preserve as memorials for my own use, of his manner of thinking, and his frank utterance.
These Discourses are such as one person would naturally deliver from his own thoughts, ex tempore, to another; not such as he would prepare to be read by others afterwards. Such as they are, I cannot tell how, without either my consent or knowledge, they have fallen into the hands of the public. But it is of little consequence to me if I do not appear an able writer, and of none to Epictetus if any one treats his
Farewell.
Of human faculties in general, you will find that each is unable to contemplate itself, and therefore to approve or disapprove itself. How far does the proper sphere of grammar extend? As far as the judging of language. Of music? As far as the judging of melody. Does either of them contemplate itself, then? By no means.
Thus, for instance, when you are to write to your friend, grammar will tell you what to write; but whether you are to write to your friend at all, or no, grammar will not tell you. Thus music, with regard to tunes; but whether it be proper or improper, at any particular time, to sing or play, music will not tell you.
That faculty which contemplates both itself and all other things.
And what is that?
The Reasoning Faculty; for that alone is found able to place an estimate upon itself,—what it is, what are its powers, what its value and likewise all the rest. For what is it else that says, gold is beautiful? since the gold itself does not speak. Evidently, that faculty which judges of the appearances of things.[*](The word (φαντασία) here translated the appearances of things, will sometimes be found rendered, in other passages, the phenomena of existence, and sometimes things as they appear. It was a favorite word with the Stoics, and can be adequately translated by no single English word, or even phrase,—implying as it does not merely the uncertainty of all impressions, but the unimportance of the emotions they involved. Fortunately for translators, Epictetus cared very little for metaphysical subtilties, and very much for his few and simple ethical principles; so that it is rarely difficult to make his meaning clear.—H.) What else distinguishes music, grammar, the other faculties, proves their uses, and shows their proper occasions?
Nothing but this.
As it was fit, then, this most excellent and superior faculty alone, a right use of the appearances of things, the gods have placed in our own power; but all other matters they have not placed in our power. What, was it because they would not? I rather think that, if they could, they had granted us these too; but they
But what says Zeus? Epictetus, if it had been possible, I had made this little body and property of thine free, and not liable to hindrance. But now do not mistake; it is not thy own, but only a finer mixture of clay. Since, then, I could not give thee this, I have given thee a certain portion of myself; this faculty of exerting the powers of pursuit and avoidance, of desire and aversion, and, in a word, the use of the appearances of things. Taking care of this point, and making what is thy own to consist in this, thou wilt never be restrained, never be hindered; thou wilt not groan, wilt not complain, wilt not flatter any one. How, then? Do all these advantages seem small to thee? Heaven forbid! Let them suffice thee, then, and thank the gods.
But now, when it is in our power to take care of one thing, and to apply ourselves to one, we choose rather to take care of many, and to encumber ourselves with many,—body, property, brother, friend, child, and slave,—and, by this multiplicity of encumbrances, we are burdened and weighed down. Thus, when the weather does not happen to be fair for sailing, we sit in distress and gaze out perpetually. Which way is the wind? North. What good will that do us? When will the west blow? When it pleases
What, then, is to be done?
To make the best of what is in our power, and take the rest as it occurs.
And how does it occur?
As it pleases God.
What, then, must I be the only one to lose my head?
Why, would you have all the world, then, lose their heads for your consolation? Why are not you willing to stretch out your neck, like Lateranus,[*](Plautius Lateranus, a consul elect, was put to death by the command of Nero, for being privy to the conspiracy of Piso. His execution was so sudden that he was not permitted to take leave of his wife and children, but was hurried into a place appropriated to the punishment of slaves, and there killed by the hand of the tribune Statius. He suffered in obstinate silence, and without making any reproach to Statius, who was concerned in the same plot for which he himself was punished. Tacitus, Ann. 15.60.—C.) when he was commanded by Nero to be beheaded? For, shrinking a little after receiving a weak blow, he stretched it out again. And before this, when Epaphroditus,[*](Epaphroditus was the master of requests and freedman of Nero, and the master of Epictetus. He assisted Nero in killing himself, for which he was condemned to death by Domitian. Suetonius in Vita Neronis, 49; Domit. c. 14.—C.) the freedman of Nero, interrogated him about the conspiracy, If I have a mind to say anything, replied he, will tell it to your master.
What resource have we, then, upon such occasions? Why, what else but to distinguish between what is
Thraseas[*](Thraseas Pastus, a Stoic philosopher put to death by Nero. Hie was husband of Arria, so well known by that beautiful epigram in Martial. The expression of Tacitus concerning him is remarkable: After the murder of so many excellent persons, Nero at last formed a desire of cutting off virtue itself, by the execution of Thraseas Paetus and Bareas Soranus.Ann. 16.21.—C.) used to say, had rather be killed today than banished to-morrow. But how did Rufus[*](Rufus was a Tuscan, of the equestrian order, and a Stoic philosopher. When Vespasian banished the other philosophers, Rufus was alone excepted.—C.) answer him? If you prefer it as a heavier misfortune, how foolish a preference! If as a lighter, who has put it in your power? Why do you not study to be contented with what is allotted you?
Well, and what said Agrippinus [*](Agrippinus was banished by Nero, for no other crime than the unfortunate death of his father, who had been causelessly killed by the command of Tiberius; and this had furnished a pretence for accusing him of hereditary disloyalty.Tacitus, Ann. 10.1 c. 28, 29.—C.) upon this account? will not be a hindrance to myself. Word was brought him, Your cause is pending in the senate. Good luck attend it; but it is eleven o’clock (the hour when he used to exercise before bathing),—let us go to our exercise. This being over, a messenger tells him, You are condemned. To banishment, says he, or to death? To banishment. What of my estate? It is not taken away. Well, then, let us go as far as Aricia,[*](Aricia, a town about sixteen miles from Rome, the first stage in his road to banishment.—C.) and dine there.
This it is to have studied what ought to be studied; to have placed our desires and aversions above tyranny and above chance. I must die,—if instantly, I will die instantly; if in a short time, I will dine first, and when the hour comes, then will I die. How? As becomes one who restores what is not his own.
To a reasonable creature, that alone is insupportable which is unreasonable, but everything reasonable may be supported. Stripes are not in themselves insupportable. How so? See how the Spartans[*](The Spartans, to make a trial of the fortitude of their children, used to have them publicly whipped at the altar of Artemis; and often with so much severity that they expired. The boys supported this exercise with so much constancy as never to cry out, nor even groan.—C.) bear whipping, after they have learned that it is a reasonable thing. Hanging is not insupportable; for, as soon as a man has taken it into his head that it is reasonable, he goes and hangs himself. In short, we shall find by observation that no creature is oppressed so much by anything as by what is unreasonable; nor on the other hand, attracted to anything so strongly, as to what is reasonable.
But it happens that different things are reasonable and unreasonable, as well as good and bad, advantageous and disadvantageous, to different persons. On this account, chiefly, we stand in need of a liberal education, to teach us to adapt the preconceptions of reasonable and unreasonable to particular cases, conformably
Ay, but this is not suitable to my character.
It is you who are to consider that, not I; for it is you who know yourself, what value you set upon yourself, and at what rate you sell yourself; for different people sell themselves at different prices.
Hence Agrippinus,[*]( Nero was remarkably fond of theatrical entertainments, and used to introduce upon the stage the descendants of noble families, whom want had rendered venal.Tacitus, Ann. 14. c. 14.—C.) when Florus was deliberating whether he should go to Nero’s shows, and perform some part in them himself, bid him go. But why do not you go, then? says Florus. Because, replied
This Priscus Helvidius,[*](Helvidius Priscus was no less remarkable for his learning and philosophy than for the sanctity of his manners and the love of his country. He behaved, however, with too much haughtiness on several occasions, to Vespasian, who sentenced him to death with great reluctance, and even forbade the execution when it was too late.Sueton. in Vesp. 15.—C.) too, saw, and acted accordingly; for when Vespasian had sent to forbid his going to the Senate, he answered, It is in your power to prevent my continuing a senator; but while I am one I must go.—Well, then, at least be silent
What good, then, did Priscus do, who was but a single person?, Why, what good does the purple do to the garment? What, but to be beautiful in itself, and to set a good example to the rest? Another, perhaps, if in such circumstances Caesar had forbidden his going to the Senate, would have answered, am obliged to you for excusing me. But such a one he would not have forbidden to go,—well knowing that he would either sit like a statue, or, if he spoke, would say what he knew to be agreeable to Caesar, and would overdo it by adding still more.
Thus acted even a wrestler, who was in danger of death, unless he consented to an ignominious amputation. His brother, who was a philosopher, coming to him, and saying Well, brother, what do you design to do? Let us cut away this part, and return again to the field. He refused, and courageously died.
When it was asked whether he acted thus as a wrestler, or a philosopher, I answer, as a man, said Epictetus; but as a man who had been proclaimed a champion at the Olympic games; who had been used to such places, and not exercised merely in the school
Come now, Epictetus, take off your beard.[*](Domitian ordered all the philosophers to be banished. To avoid this inconvenience, those who had a mind to disguise their profession, took off their beards.—C.) If I am a philosopher, I answer, I will not take it off.—Then I will take off your head. If that will do you any good, take it.
It was asked, How shall each of us perceive what belongs to his character? Whence, replied Epictetus, does a bull, when the lion approaches, alone recognize his own qualifications, and expose himself alone for the whole herd? It is evident that with the qualifications occurs, at the same time, the consciousness of being indued with them. And in the same manner, whoever of us hath such qualifications will not be ignorant of them. But neither is a bull nor a gallant-spirited man formed all at once. We are to exercise, and qualify ourselves, and not to run rashly upon what doth not concern us.
Only consider at what price you sell your own free will, O man!—if only that you may not sell it for a trifle. The highest greatness and excellence perhaps seem to belong to others, to such as Socrates. Why,
If a person could be persuaded of this principle as he ought, that we are all originally descended from God, and that he is the father of men and gods, I conceive he never would think of himself meanly or ignobly. Suppose Caesar were to adopt you, there would be no bearing your haughty looks; and will you not feel ennobled on knowing yourself to be the son of God? Yet, in fact, we are not ennobled. But having two things united in our composition, a body in common with the brutes, and reason in common with the gods, many incline to this unhappy and mortal kindred, and only some few to that which is happy
By means of this [animal] kindred some of us, deviating towards it, become like wolves, faithless, and crafty, and mischievous; others, like lions, wild and savage and untamed; but most of us foxes, and disgraceful even among brutes. For what else is a slanderous and ill-natured man but a fox, or something yet more wretched and mean? Watch and take heed, then, that you do not sink thus low.
He who is entering on a state of progress, having learned from the philosophers that good should be sought and evil shunned, and having learned, too, that prosperity and peace are no otherwise attainable
How happens it, then, that when we confess virtue to be such, yet we seek, and make an ostentatious show of progress in other things! What is the business of virtue?
A life truly prosperous.
Who is in a state of progress, then? He who has best studied Chrysippus?[*](Chrysippus was regarded as the highest authority among the later Stoics; but not one of his seven hundred volumes bas come down to posterity.—H.) Why, does virtue consist in having read Chrysippus through? If so, progress is confessedly nothing else than understanding a great deal of Chrysippus; otherwise we confess virtue to consist in one thing, and declare progress, which is an approach to it, to be quite another thing.
This person, they say, is already able to understand Chrysippus, by himself. Certainly, sir, you have
Show me then your progress in this point. As if I should say to a wrestler, Show me your muscle; and he should answer me, See my dumb-bells. Your dumb-bells are your own affair; I desire to see the effect of them.
Take the treatise on the active powers, and see how thoroughly I have perused it.
I do not inquire into this, O slavish man, but how you exert those powers, how you manage your desires and aversions, your intentions and purposes, how you meet events,—whether in accordance with nature’s laws or contrary to them. If in accordance, give me evidence of that, and I will say you improve; if the contrary, you may go your way, and not only
Where is progress, then?
If any of you, withdrawing himself from externals, turns to his own will, to train, and perfect, and render it conformable to nature,—noble, free, unrestrained, unhindered, faithful, humble;—if he has learned, too, that whoever desires or shuns things beyond his own power can neither be faithful nor free, but must necessarily take his chance with them, must necessarily too be subject to others, to such as can procure or prevent what he desires or shuns; if, rising in the morning, he observes and keeps to these rules; bathes regularly, eats frugally, and to every subject of action applies the same fixed principles,—if a racer to racing, if an orator to oratory,—this is he who truly makes progress; this is he who has not labored in vain. But if he is wholly intent on reading books, and has labored that point only, and travelled for that, I bid him go home immediately and do his daily duties; since that which he sought is nothing.
The only real thing is to study how to rid life of lamentation, and complaint, and Alas! and I am undone, and misfortune, and failure; and to learn what death, what exile, what a prison, what poison is; that
Of what service, then, is Chrysippus to us?
To teach you that those things are not false on which true prosperity and peace depend. Take my books, and you will see how true and conformable to nature those things are which give me peace. How great a happiness! And how great the benefactor who shows the way! To Triptolemus[*](Triptolemus was said to have introduced agriculture and vegetable food among men, under the guidance of Demeter.—H.) all men have raised temples and altars, because he gave us a milder kind of food; but to him who has discovered and brought to light and communicated the truth to all,—the means, not merely of living, but of living well,—who among you ever raised an altar or a temple, or dedicated a statue; or who worships God in his name?
It is said that there are those who will oppose very evident truths, and yet it is not easy to find a reason which may persuade such an one to alter his opinion. This may arise neither from his own strength nor from the weakness of his teacher; but when a man becomes obstinate in error, reason cannot always reach him.
Now there are two sorts of obstinacy: the one, of the intellect; the other, of the will. A man may obstinately set himself not to assent to evident truths, nor to quit the defence of contradictions. We all dread a bodily paralysis, and would make use of every contrivance to avoid it; but none of us is troubled about a paralysis of the soul. And yet, indeed, even with regard to the soul, when a person is so affected as not to apprehend or understand anything, we think him in a sad condition; but where the emotions
Are you certain that you are awake? am not, replies such a person, for neither am I certain when in dreaming I appear to myself to be awake. Is there no difference, then, between these appearances? None. Shall I argue with this man any longer? For what steel or what caustic can I apply, to make him sensible of his paralysis? If he is sensible of it, and pretends not to be so, he is even worse than dead. He sees not his inconsistency, or, seeing it, holds to the wrong. He moves not, makes no progress; he rather falls back. His sense of shame is gone; his reasoning faculty is not gone, but brutalized. Shall I call this strength of mind? By no means,—unless we allow it to be such in the vilest debauchees publicly to speak and act out their worse impulses.
For every event that happens in the world it is easy to give thanks to Providence, if a person has but these two qualities in himself: a habit of closely considering what happens to each individual,
Who is it, then, that has fitted each of these to the other? Who is it that has fitted the sword to the scabbard, and the scabbard to the sword? Is there no such Being? From the very construction of a complete work, we are used to declare positively that it must be the operation of some artificer, and not the effect of mere chance. Does every such work, then, demonstrate an artificer, and do not visible objects, and the sense of seeing, and light, demonstrate one? Do not the difference of the sexes, and their inclination to each other, and the use of their several powers,—do not these things demonstrate an artificer? Most certainly they do.
But further; this constitution of understanding, by which we are not simply impressed by sensible objects, but take and subtract and add and combine, and pass from point to point by inference,—is not all this sufficient to prevail on some men, and make them
What, then, do these things belong to us alone?
Many, indeed,—such as are peculiarly necessary for a reasonable creature; but you will find many which are common to us with mere animals.
Then, do they too understand what happens?
Not at all; for use is one affair, and understanding another. But God had need of animals to make use of things, and of us to understand that use. It is sufficient, therefore, for them to eat, and drink, and sleep, and continue their species, and perform other such offices as belong to each of them; but to us, to whom He has given likewise a faculty of understanding, these offices are not sufficient. For if we do not proceed in a wise and systematic manner, and suitably to the nature and constitution of each thing, we shall never attain our end. For where the constitution of beings is different, their offices and ends are different likewise. Thus where the constitution is adapted only to use, there use is alone sufficient; but where understanding is added to use, unless that too be duly exercised the end of such a being will never be attained.
Well, then, each of the animals is constituted either for food, or husbandry, to produce milk, or for some other like use; and for these purposes what
Take care, then, not to die without the contemplation of these things. You take a journey to Olympia to behold the work of Phidias, and each of you thinks it a misfortune to die without a knowledge of such things; and will you have no inclination to see and understand those works for which there is no need to take a journey, but which are ready and at hand even to those who bestow no pains! Will you never perceive what you are, or for what you were born, or for what purpose you are admitted to behold this spectacle?
But there are in life some things unpleasant and difficult.
And are there none at Olympia? Are you not heated? Are you not crowded? Are you not without good conveniences for bathing? Are you not wet through when it happens to rain? Do you not have uproar, and noise, and other disagreeable circumstances? But, I suppose, by comparing all these with
True, no doubt; but I have such a disagreeable catarrh! Attend to your diseases, then, as best you can. Do you say it is unreasonable that there should be such a discomfort in the world?
And how much better is it that you should have a catarrh than complain? Pray, what figure do you think Hercules would have made if there had not been a lion, and a hydra, and a stag, and unjust and brutal men, whom he expelled and cleared away? And what would he have done if none of these had existed? Is it not plain that he must have wrapped himself up and slept? In the first place, then, he would never have become a Hercules by slumbering away his whole life in such delicacy and ease; or if he had, what good would it have done? What would have been the use of his arm and his strength, of his patience and greatness of mind, if such circumstances and subjects of action had not roused and exercised him?
What, then, must we provide these things for ourselves; and introduce a boar and a lion and a hydra into our country?
This would be madness and folly. But as they were in being, and to be met with, they were proper subjects to call out and exercise Hercules. Do you therefore likewise, being sensible of this, consider the faculties you have, and after taking a view of them say, Bring on me now, O Zeus, what difficulty thou wilt, for I have faculties granted me by thee, and powers by which I may win honor from every event? No; but you sit trembling, for fear this or that should happen, and lamenting and mourning and groaning at what doth happen; and then you accuse the gods! In what does such baseness end but in impiety? And yet God has not only granted these faculties by which we may bear every event without being depressed or broken by it, but, like a good prince and a true father, has placed their exercise above restraint, compulsion, or hindrance, and wholly within our own control; nor has he reserved a power, even to himself, of hindering or restraining them. Having these things free, and your own, will you not use them, nor consider what you have received, nor from whom? But you sit groaning and lamenting, some of you, blind to him who gave them, and not acknowledging your benefactor; while others basely turn themselves to complaints and accusations against God! I undertake to show you that you have means
It is not understood by most persons that the proper use of inferences and hypotheses and interrogations, and logical forms generally, has any relation to the duties of life. In every matter of action the question is, how a wise and good man may come honestly and consistently out of it. We must admit, therefore, either that the wise man will not engage in difficult problems or that, if he does, he will not think it worth his care to deal with them thoroughly; or if we allow neither of these alternatives, it is necessary to confess that some examination ought to be made of those points on which the solution of these problems chiefly depends. For what is reasoning? To lay down true positions, to reject false ones, and to suspend the judgment in doubtful ones. Is it enough, then, to have learned merely this? It is enough, say you. Is it enough, then, for him who would not commit any mistake in the use of money, merely to have heard that we are to receive the good pieces, and to reject the bad? This is not enough. What must be
And what further is attempted in reasoning? To admit the logical consequence of whatever you have properly granted. Well, and is it enough merely to know this necessity? It is not; but we must learn how it happens that such a thing is the consequence of such another, and when one thing follows from one premise, and when from many premises. Is it not moreover necessary that he who would acquit himself skilfully in reasoning should both himself demonstrate whatever he asserts and be able to comprehend the demonstrations of others, and not be deceived by such as use sophistry as if they were reasoning fairly? Hence arises the use and practice of logical forms; and it appears to be indispensable.
But it may possibly happen that from the premises which we have honestly granted there arises some consequence which, though false in itself, is nevertheless a fair inference. What then ought I to do? To admit a falsehood? Impossible. To take back my concessions? But this will not be allowed. Or assert that the consequence does not fairly follow from the premises? Nor is even this practicable. What then, is to be done in the case? Is it not this? As
The same thing is to be observed in hypotheses and hypothetical arguments. For it is sometimes necessary to require some hypothesis to be granted, as a kind of step to the rest of the argument. Is every given hypothesis, then, to be granted, or not every one? and if not every one, which? And is he who has granted an hypothesis forever to abide by it! Or is he sometimes to revoke it, and admit only consequences,
Why, then, are we still indolent, and slothful, and sluggish, seeking pretences of avoiding labor? Shall we not be watchful to render reason itself accurate? But suppose, after all, I should make a mistake in these points,—it is not as if I had killed my father. O slavish man, in this case you had no father to kill. but the only fault that you could commit in this instance, you have committed. This very thing I myself said to Rufus when he reproved me for not finding the weak point in some syllogism. Why, said I, have I burnt the capitol then? Slave! answered he, was the thing here involved the capitol? Or are there no other faults but burning the capitol, or
In as many ways as equivalent syllogisms may be varied, in so many may the technical forms be varied likewise. As, for instance: If you had borrowed and not paid, you owe me money; but you have not borrowed and not paid; therefore you do not owe me money. To perform these processes skilfully, is held to be the peculiar mark of a philosopher. For if an enthymema be an imperfect syllogism, he who is versed in the perfect syllogism must be equally ready to detect an imperfect one.
Why, then, do not we exercise ourselves and others after this manner?
Because, even now, though we are not wholly absorbed in these things, nor diverted, by me at least, from the study of morality, yet we make no eminent advances in virtue. What is to be expected, then, if
What, then, was not Plato a philosopher?
Well, and was not Hippocrates a physician? Yet you see how he expresses himself. But what has his style to do with his professional qualities? Why do you confound things accidentally united in the same men? If Plato was handsome and well made, must I too set myself to becoming handsome and well made,—as if this was necessary to philosophy, because a certain person happened to be at once handsome and a philosopher? Why will you not perceive and distinguish what are the things that make men philosophers, and what belong to them on other accounts? Pray,
What then? Do I reject these special faculties? By no means; neither do I reject the faculty of seeing. But if you ask me what is the good of man, I know not where it lies save in dealing wisely with the phenomena of existence.
If what philosophers say of the kinship between God and men be true, what has any one to do but, like Socrates, when he is Asked what countryman he is, never to say that he is a citizen of Athens, or of Corinth, but of the universe? For why, if you limit yourself to Athens, do you not farther limit yourself to that mere corner of Athens where your body was brought forth? Is it not, evidently, from some larger local tie, which comprehends, not only that comer and your whole house, but the whole country of your fathers, that you call yourself an Athenian, or a Corinthian? He, then, who understands the administration of the universe, and has learned that the principal and greatest and most comprehensive of all things is this vast system, extending from men to God: and that
But wherewithal shall I be fed? For I have nothing.
To what do fugitive slaves trust when they run away from their masters? Is it to their estates,—their servants,—their plate? To nothing but themselves. Yet they do not fail to obtain the necessaries of life. And must a philosopher, think you, leave his own abode to rest and rely upon others, and not take care of himself? Must he be more helpless and anxious than the brute beasts?—each of which is self-sufficient, and wants neither proper food nor any suitable and natural provision. One would think that you would need an instructor, not to guard you from thinking too meanly or ignobly of yourselves, but that his business would be to rear up young men of such a spirit that, knowing their affinity to the gods,
This is the work, if any, that ought to employ your master and preceptor if you had one, that you should come to him and say: Epictetus, we can no longer bear being tied down to this poor body,—feeding, and resting, and cleaning it, and vexed with so many low cares on its account. Are not these things indifferent, and nothing to us, and death no evil? Are we not of kindred to God; and did we not come from him? Suffer us to go back thither from whence we came. Suffer us at length to be delivered from these fetters that bind and weigh us down. Here thieves and robbers, courts and tyrants, claim power over us, through the body and its possessions. Suffer us to show them that they have no power.
And in this case it would be my part to answer: My friends, wait for God, till he shall give the signal and dismiss you from this service; then return to him. For the present, be content to remain at this post where he has placed you. The time of your abode here is short and easy to such as are disposed like you; for what tyrant, what robber, what thief, or what court can be formidable to those who thus count for nothing the body and its possessions. Stay, nor foolishly depart.
Thus ought the case to stand between a preceptor and ingenuous young men. But how stands it now? The preceptor has no life in him, and you have none. When you have had enough to-day, you sit weeping about to-morrow, in regard to how you shall get food. Why, if you have it, slave, you will have it; if not, you will go out of life. The door is open, why do you lament; what room remains for tears; what occasion for flattery? Why should any one person envy another? Why should he be impressed with awe by those who have great possessions, or are placed in high rank,—especially, if they are powerful and passionate? For what can they do to us? The things which they can do, we do not regard; the things about which we are concerned, they cannot reach. Who, then, after all, shall hold sway over a person thus disposed? How behaved Socrates in regard to these things? As it became one conscious of kinship with the gods. He said to his judges:—
If you should tell me, We will acquit you upon condition that you shall no longer discourse in the manner you have hitherto done, nor make any disturbance among either our young or our old people, I would answer: You are ridiculous in thinking that if your general had placed me in any post I ought to maintain and defend it, and choose to die a thousand times, rather than desert it, but that if God has assigned me any station or method of life, I ought to desert that for you.
This it is for a man to truly recognize his relationship with God, But we habitually think of ourselves as [made up of] mere stomach and intestines and bodily parts. Because we fear, because we desire, we flatter those who can help us in these matters; we dread them too.
A person desired me once to write for him to Rome. He was one vulgarly esteemed unfortunate, as he had been formerly illustrious and rich, and was afterwards stripped of all his possessions, and reduced to live here. I wrote for him in a submissive style; but after reading my letter he returned it to me and said: wanted your assistance, not your pity; for no evil has befallen me.
Thus Rufus, to try me, used to say, This or that you will have from your master. When I answered him, These are mere human affairs, Why, then, says he, should I intercede with him,[*](This is a disputed passage, and something is probably lost.—H.) when you can receive from yourself things more important? For what one has of his own, it is superfluous and vain to receive from another. Shall I, then, who can receive nobleness and a manly spirit from myself, receive an estate, or a sum of money, or a place, from you? Heaven forbid! I will not be so insensible of my own possessions. But if a person is fearful and abject, what else is necessary but to apply for permission to bury him as if he were dead? Please forward to us
If we all applied ourselves as heartily to our proper business as the old politicians at Rome to their schemes, perhaps we too might accomplish something. I know a man older than I am, who is now a commissary at Rome. When he passed through this place, on his return from exile, what an account did he give me of his former life; and how did he promise that for the future, when he had returned he would apply himself to nothing but how to spend the remainder of his days in repose and tranquillity. For how few have I now remaining! he said. You will not do it, said I. When you are once within reach of Rome you will forget all this; and if you can but once gain admittance to court, you will be rejoiced and thank God. It you ever find me, Epictetus, said he, putting one foot into the court, think of me whatever you please. Yet, after all, how did he act? Before he entered the city he was met by a letter from Caesar. On receiving it he forgot all his former
What, then, do I say? that man is made for an inactive life? No, surely. But why is not this life of ours fill of action? For my own part, I wake at dawn with my head full of my lessons for the coming day, and then say to myself, quickly, What is it to me how such a one recites? My present business is to sleep.
What comparison can be made between their kind of activity and ours? If you consider what it is they do, you will see; for about what are they employed the whole day but in calculating, contriving, consulting,—about provisions, about an estate, or other interests like these? Is there any likeness, then, between reading a petition, entreat you to give me a permission to export corn, and this, entreat you to learn from Chrysippus what the administration of the universe is, and what place a reasonable creature holds in it; learn, too, what you yourself are, and wherein your good and evil consist? Are these things at all alike? Do they require an equal degree of application? And is it no more shameful to neglect the one than the other?
Well, then, are we older men the only idle dreamers?
No, but you young men are so in a greater degree.