Moral Discourses

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Everyman, I will go with thee, and be thy guide,
In thy most need to go by thy side.

EPICTETUS, bom at Hierapolis in Phrygia
c. A,D. 60. Slave at Rome for some time.
After receiving freedom was a professor at
Rome, but was expelled to Nicopolis in
Epirus where he spent the rest of his Jife.

MORAL DISCOURSES

EPICTETUS

LONDON: J. M. DENT & SONS LTD.
NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO. INC.

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Made in Great Britain

at The Temple Press Letchworth

and decorated by Eric Ravilious

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J. M. Dent <SL Sons Ltd.

Aldine House Bedford St. London

First Published in this Edition 19 10

1913, I9l6> 1920, 1926,
1928, 1933

EDITOR'S NOTE

NOTHING need be added to Mrs. Carter's sketch of the Stoic
philosophy and its most interesting expounder. It is strange
indeed that English readers have been content to neglect Epic-
tetus, who is superior to Marcus Aurelius intellectually as
morally. Intellectually, indeed, there is no comparison between
them; but Marcus Aurelius seems to have become a fashion,
with Omar Khayyam, whereas the keen pungent wit of Epic-
tetus is less to the taste of an age of sentimentalists. Epictetus
has the philosopher's dry light. He is so human, too, and his
life was so true to his faith, that the reader can both love and
respect him. In this, as in literary qualities, he has the advan-
tage over Seneca, who was too diffuse, and not free from the
suspicion of temporising.

Mrs. Carter's own style is not the style of Epictetus; but it is
a style, which is more than can be said of most writers at this
time. At least she has represented the author's ideas faithfully
and coherently.

W. H. D. ROUSE.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Encheiridion, with Simplicius Commentary, ist edition, Jo. Ant. et
fratres de Sabio, Venice, July, MDXXVIII. First Complete Text,
Norenbergae, 1529.

TRANSLATIONS: Translation of complete works by Elizabeth Carter,
1758, 1759, 4th edition, 1807; T. W. Higginson, based on E. Carter, 1865,
Boston, 1897; W. A. Oldfather (Loeb), 1926. Encheiridion, T. W. H.
Rolleston, 1881 (Carnelot Classics, 1886; with golden verses of Pytha-
goras, T. Talbot, 1881; Discourses, Encheiridion, and fragments, G.
Long (BohnJ, 1848, etc.; Discourses, G. Long, 1902, 1903; Temple
Classics (E. Carter), 1899. Manual, J. Sanford (from the French), 1567;
and Cebes, J. Healey, 1610; with addition of Theophrastus' Characters,
1616; H. M'Cormac, 1844. Life and Philosophy, with Cebes, J. Davies
(from the French), 1670; Epictetus, his morals, with Simplicius, his
comment, G. Stanhope, 1694; with life by Boiiea'u,' 1700, and other later
editions; Morals, wuh Life, 1805.

vii

TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION

i. THE Stoic sect was founded by Zeno, about three hundred
years before the Christian era, and flourished in great reputation
till the declension of the Roman Empire. A complete history
of this philosophy would be the work of a large volume; and
nothing further is intended here than such a summary view of
it as may be of use to give a clearer notion of those passages in
Epictetus, a strict professor of it, which allude to some of its
peculiar doctrines.

2. That the end of man is to live conformably to nature was
universally agreed on amongst all the philosophers; but in
what that conformity to nature consists was the point in dispute.
The Epicureans maintained that it consisted in pleasure, of
which they constituted sense the judge. 1 The Stoics, on the
contrary, placed it in an absolute perfection of the soul.
Neither of them seem to have understood man in his mixed
capacity; but while the first debased him to a mere animal, the
last exalted him to a pure intelligence, and both considered him
as independent, uncomipted, and sufficient, either by height of
virtue or by well-regulated indulgence, to his own happiness.
The Stoical excess was more useful to the public, as it often pro-
duced great and noble efforts towards that perfection to which
it was supposed possible for human nature to arrive. Yet, at the
same time, by flattering man with false and presumptuous ideas
of his own power and excellence, it tempted even the best to
pride; a vice not only dreadfully mischievous in human society,
but perhaps, of all others, the most insuperable bar to real
inward improvement.

3. Epictetus often mentions three topics, or classes, under
which the whole of moral philosophy is comprehended. These
are the Desires and Aversions, the Pursuits and Avoidances, or
the exercise of the active powers, and the Assents of the under-
standing.

4. The desires (o/>cis) and Aversions (e/c/cXiVeis) were

considered as simple affections of the mind, arising from

the apprehension that anything was conducive to happiness,

or the contrary. The first care of a proficient in philosophy

* 44 ix

x The Discourses of Epictetus

was, to regulate these in such a manner as never to be dis-
appointed of the one, or incur the other; a point no otherwise
attainable than by regarding all externals as absolutely indif-
ferent. Good must always be the object of Desire, and Evil of
Aversion. The person, then, who considers life, health, ease,
friends, reputation, etc. as Good, and their contraries as Evil,
must necessarily desire the one, and be averse to the other; and,
consequently, must often find his Desire disappointed, and his
Aversion incurred. The Stoics, therefore, restrained Good and
Evil to Virtue and Vice alone; and excluded all externals from
any share in human happiness, which they made entirely de-
pendent on a right choice. From this regulation of the Desires
and Aversions follows that freedom from perturbation, grief,
anger, pity, etc. ; and in short, that universal apathy which they
everywhere strongly inculcate.

5. The next step to Stoical perfection was, the class of
Pursuits (O/>/JLCU) and Avoidances (d<J>o/>/xcu). 2 As the Desires and
Aversions are simple affections, the Pursuits and Avoidances
are exertions of the active powers towards the procuring
or declining anything. Under this head was comprehended
the whole system of moral duties, according to their incom-
plete ideas of them, and a due regard to it was supposed
to ensure a proper behaviour in all the social relations. The
Constant performance of what these point out naturally followed
from a regulation of the Desires and Aversions in the first topic;
for where the inclinations are exerted and restrained as they
ought, there will be nothing to mislead us in action.

6. The last topic, and the completion of the Stoic character,
was that of the Assents. 8 As the second was to produce a
security from failure in practice, this was to secure an infallibility
in judgment, and to guard the mind from ever either admitting
a falsehood or dissenting from truth. A wise man in the Stoic
scheme was never to be mistaken, or to form any opinion.
Where evidence could not be obtained, he was to continue, in
suspense. His understanding was never to be. misled even in
sleep, or under the influence of wine, or in a delirium. In this
last particular, however, there is not a perfect agreement, and
some authors are so very reasonable as to admit it possible for a
philosopher to be mistaken in his judgment after he hath lost
his senses. 4

7. The subjects of these several classes of philosophic exer-
cise are the Appearances of things (<ai/Tao-/<u). 5 By these
Appearances the Stoics understood the impressions 6 made on

Introduction xi

the soul by any objects, presented either to the senses or to
the understanding. Thus a house, an estate, life, death, pain,
reputation, etc. (considered in the view under which they are
presented to the perceptive faculties) in the Stoical sense are
Appearances. The use of Appearances is common to brutes and
men, an intelligent use of them belongs only to the latter; a
distinction which is carefully to be observed in reading these
discourses.

8. That judgment which is formed by the mind concerning
the Appearances the Stoics termed Principles (Soy/iara), and
these principles give a determination to the Choice.

9. The Choice (nyMHu'pcow) among the Stoics signified
either the faculty of willing, or a deliberate election made of
some action or course of life.

10. As the Appearances respect particular objects, the Pre-
conceptions (7r/ooAT?^ts) are general innate notions, such as
they supposed to take original possession of the mind, before it
forms any of its own. 7 To adapt these Pre-conceptions to
particular cases is the office of reason, and is often insisted on
by Epictetus as a point of the highest importance.

ii. By the word, which throughout this translation is
rendered Prosperity (eu/ooia) the Stoics understood the internal
state of the mind, when the affections and active powers were
so regulated that it considered all events as happy; and, con-
sequently, must enjoy an uninterrupted flow of success, since
nothing could fall out contrary to its wishes. 8

These which have been mentioned are the technical terms of
the greatest consequence in the Stoic philosophy, and which for
that reason are, except in a very few places, always rendered
by the same English word. There are other words used in a
peculiar sense by this sect; but, as they are not of equal import-
ance, they are neither so strictly translated, nor need any
particular definition.

12. The Stoics held logic in the highest esteem, and often
carried it to such a trifling degree of subtlety as rendered their
arguments very tedious and perplexed- The frequent refer-
ences to logical questions, and the use of syllogistical terms, are
the least agreeable part of the discourses of Epictetus; since,
however well they might be understood by some of his hearers,
they are- now unintelligible to the greatest part of his readers.
Indeed, with all his strength and clearness of understanding,
he seems to have been hurt by this favourite science of his sect.
One is sometimes surprised to find his reasoning incoherent and

xii The Discourses of Epictetus

perplexed; and his scholars rather silenced by interrogatories
which they are unable to comprehend, than convinced by the
force of truth; and then given up by him, as if they were hope-
less and unteachable. Yet many a well-meaning understanding
may be lost in a wood by the confusion of dialectical quibbles,
which might have been led without difficulty to the point in
view if it had been suffered to follow the track of common sense.
13. The Stoic scheme of theology, as it is explained in Cicero
and other ancient writers, appears, in many parts of it, strangely
perplexed and absurd. Some, however, of this seeming ab-
surdity may possibly arise from the use of strong figures, and
the infinite difficulty of treating a subject, for which no human
language can supply proper and adequate terms. 9 The writings
of the first founders of the Stoic philosophy, who treated ex-
pressly on physiology and metaphysics, are now lost, and all
that can be known of their doctrine is from fragments, and the
accounts given of them by other authors. By what can be
collected from these, and particularly by the account which
Diogenes Laertius gives of the Stoics, they appear to have held,
that there is one supreme God, incorruptible, unoriginated, 10
immortal, rational, and perfect in intelligence and happiness,
unsusceptible of all evil, governing the world and everything
in it, by his providence; not however of the human form, but
the creator of the universe, the father likewise of all; u and that
the several names of Apollo, Minerva, Ceres, etc., only denote
different exertions of his power in the different parts of the
universe. 12 It would be well if they had stopt here, but they
plainly speak of the world as God, or of God as the soul of the
world, which they call his substance, 13 and I do not recollect any
proof that they believed him to exist in the extramundane space.
Yet they held the world to be finite 14 and corruptible, and that
at certain periods it was to undergo successive conflagrations,
and then all beings were to be resorbed into God, and again re-
produced by him. u What they intended by being resorbed into
God, as I do not comprehend, I will not attempt to explain;
but I fear they understood by it a loss of separate personal
existence. Yet some of the later Stoics departed from this
doctrine of the conflagration, and supposed the world to be
immortal. 16 Indeed, there is often so much obscurity and
appearance of contradiction in their expressions, that it is very
difficult, if not impossible, to form any precise idea of their
meaning. They who with impartiality read what the ancient
nhilosophers of all sects have writtem on the nature of God, will

Introduction xiii

often find cause to think, with the utmost veneration and grati-
tude, on the only book in which this important article is ex-
plained, so far as is necessary to be known, in a manner perfectly
agreeable to the principles of simple, unperverted reason. For
what it graciously teaches more than reason could, it confirms
by such evidences of its authority as reason must admit, or
contradict itself.

14. The Stoics sometimes define God to be an intelligent,
fiery spirit, without form, but passing into whatever things it
pleases, and assimilating itself to all; 17 sometimes an active,
operative fire. 18 It might be hoped that these were only meta-
phorical phrases, if they did not expressly speak of God as
corporeal, which is objected to them by Plutarch. 19 Indeed,
they defined all essence to be body. 20 An error of which,
probably, they did not discover the ill tendency any more
than Tertullian ; who inconsiderately followed them in this very
unphilosophical notion, that what is not body is nothing at all. 21
His Christian faith secures him from the imputation of impiety ;
and the just and becoming manner in which the Stoics, in many
instances, speak of God, should incline one to form the same
favourable judgment of them; and those authors seem guilty
of great injustice who represent them as little better than
atheists.

15. They held the eternity of matter as a passive principle;
but that it was reduced into form by God, and that the world
was made and is continually governed by him. 22 They some-
times represent him as modelling the constitution of the world
with supreme authority; M at others, as limited by the materials,
which he had not the power to change. 24 Epictetus may be
thought to incline to this latter opinion; 25 yet his words are
capable of a different turn. And there are, perhaps, more
arguments in the writings of the Stoics, to prove their belief of
the uncontrollable power of the Deity in the formation of things,
than those which some unguarded expressions appear to furnish
against it.

16. Of all the philosophers the Stoics were the clearest and
most zealous assertors of a particular Providence; 2 * a belief
which was treated with the utmost contempt by the Epicureans. 27
As this principle is, of all others, the most conducive to the
interests of virtue, and lays the foundation of all true piety, the
Stoics are entitled to the highest honour for their steady defence
of it, and their utter rejection of the idle and contemptible
notion of chance. 28

xiv The Discourses of Epictetus

17. By fate they seem to have understood a series 'of 'events
appointed by the immutable counsels of God; or that law of
his providence by which he governs the world. It is evident,
by their writings, that they meant it in no sense which interferes
with the liberty of human actions. Cicero allows that Chry-
sippus endeavoured to reconcile fate with free will; and that it
was contrary to his intention that, by a perplexed way of
arguing, he confirmed the doctrine of necessity. 29 Whenever
they speak of God as subject to fate, which it must be owned
they sometimes do in a very strong and unguarded manner, their
merning seems to be, that his own eternal will is his law; that
he cannot change, because he always ordains what is best; * and
that, as fate is no more than a connected series of causes, God
is the first original cause, on which all the rest depend. 81

1 8. They imagined the whole universe to be peopled with
gods, genii, and demons; and among other inferior divinities
reckoned the sun, moon, and stars, which they conceived to be
animated and intelligent, or inhabited by particular deities, as
the body is by the soul, who presided over them and directed
their notions. 82

19. The Stoics held both the above-mentioned intelligences
and the souls of men to be portions of the essence of God, 33 or
parts of the soul of the world, 84 and to be corporeal, 36 and perish-
able. 84 Some of them indeed maintained that hurhan souls
subsisted after death; but that they were, like all other beings,
to be consumed at the conflagration. Cleanthes taught that all
souls lasted till that time; Chrysippus, only those of the good. 37
Seneca is perpetually wavering, sometimes speaking of the soul
as immortal; and, at others, as perishing with the body. And
indeed there is nothing but confusion, and a melancholy un-
certainty, to be met with among the Stoics on this subject.

20. There is, I think, very little evidence to be found that
they believed future rewards or punishments, compared with
that which appears to the contrary; 88 at least the reader will
observe that Epictetus never asserts either. He strongly insists
that a bad man hath no other punishment than being such; and
a good man no other reward ; w and he tells his disciple that,
when want of necessaries obliges him to go out of life, he returns
to the four elements of which he was made; that there is no
Hades nor Acheron nor Pyriphlegethon; * and he clearly affirms
that personal existence is lost in death. 41 Had Epictetus believed
future rewards, he must, of course, have made frequent mention
<>f them. 42 M. Antoninus, upon a supposition that souls con-

Introduction xv

tinue after death, makes them to remain for some time in the air,
and then to be changed, diffused, kindled, and resumed into the
productive intelligence of the universe. 43 In another place he
vindicates the conduct of Providence, on the hypothesis that the
souls of the good are extinguished by death. 44

21. The Stoics thought that every single person had a tute-
lary genius assigned him by God, as a guardian of his soul and
a, superintendent of his conduct, 45 and that all virtue and happi-
ness consist in acting in concert with this genius, with reference
to the will of the supreme director of the whole. 48 Sometimes,
however, they make the genius to be only the ruling faculty of
every one's own mind. 47

22. A very slight examination of their writings is sufficient
to convince any impartial reader how little the doctrines of this
sect were fitted to influence the generality of mankind. But
indeed about the generality of mankind the Stoics do not appear
to have given themselves any kind of trouble. They seemed to
consider all (except the few who were students in the intricacies
of a philosophic system) as very little superior to beasts; and,
with great tranquillity, left them to follow the devices of their
own ungoverned appetites and passions. How unlike was this
to the diffusive benevolence of the divine author of the Christian
religion, who adapted his discourses to the comprehension, and
extended the means of happiness to the attainment, of all
mankind !

23. There seem to be only two methods by which the present
appearances of things are capable of being reconciled to our
ideas of the justice, wisdom, and goodness of God: the one is
the doctrine of a future state ; the other, the position that virtue
alone is sufficient to human happiness in this. 48 The first, which
was the method chosen by Socrates, solves every difficulty,
without contradicting either sense or reason; the latter, which
was unfortunately maintained by the Stoics, is repugnant to
both.

24. That there is an intrinsic beauty and excellency in moral
goodness; that it is the ornament and perfection of all rational
beings; and that, till conscience is stifled by repeated guilt, we
feel an obligation to prefer and follow, so far as we perceive it, in
all cases; and find an inward satisfaction, and generally receive
outward advantages, from so doing, are positions which no
; thinking person can contradict: but it doth not follow from
hence, that in such a mixture as mankind it is its own sufficient
reward. God alone, infinitely perfect, is happy in and from

xvi The Discourses of Epictetus

himself. The virtue of finite beings must be defective : and the
happiness of created beings must be dependent. It is un-
deniable fact that the natural consequences of virtue in some
may be interrupted by the vices of others. How much are the
best persons liable to suffer from the follies of the unthinking;
from the ill-nature, the rage, the scorn of the malevolent; from
the cold and penurious hardheartedness of the unfeeling; from
persecutions, for the sake both of religion and honesty; from ill
returns to conjugal, to parental, to friendly affection; and from
an innumerable train of other evils, to which the most amiable
dispositions are usually the most sensible! It is no less un-
deniable that the natural consequences of virtue are interrupted
by the struggles of our own passions (which we may overcome
rewardably, though very imperfectly, or, if we live to overcome
more perfectly, we may not live to enjoy the victory); by sick-
ness, pain, languor, want; and by what we feel from the death
or the sufferings of those with whom we are most nearly con-
nected. We are often, indeed, afflicted by many of these
things more than we ought to be. But concern for some, at
least our own failings, for instance, is directly a duty; for
others, it is visibly the instrument of moral improvement; for
more still, it is the unavoidable result of our frame; and they
who carry it too far may, on the whole, be good characters;
and even they who do not, in any considerable degree, may
however be extremely wretched. How, then, can virtue be
its own reward to mankind in general, or indeed a proportion-
able reward to almost any man? Or how, unless the view be
extended beyond such a scene of things, the certain means of
happiness? The originally appointed means of happiness it
undoubtedly is; but that it should be an effectual and infallible
means to creatures so imperfect, passing through such a dis-
ordered world, is impossible, without a state of future reward;
and of this the gospel alone gives us full assurance.

25. By rejecting the doctrine of recompenses in another life,
the Stoics were reduced to the extravagance of supposing
felicity to be enjoyed in circumstances which are incapable of it.
That a good man stretched on a rack, or reposing on a bed of
roses, should enjoy himself equally, was a notion which could
gain but few proselytes; and a sad experience that pain was an
evil, sometimes drove their own disciples from the thorny
asperities of the portico to the flowery gardens of Epicurus.

26. The absolute indifference of all externals, and the posi-
tion, that things independent on choice are nothing to us, the

Introduction xvii

grand point on which their arguments turned, every one who
feels knows to be false : and the practice of the wisest and best
among them proved it in fact to be so. It is remarkable that no
sect of philosophers ever so dogmatically prescribed, or so fre-
quently committed, suicide as those very Stoics, who taught that
the pains and sufferings, which they strove to end by this act of
rebellion against the decrees of Providence, were no evils. How
absolutely this horrid practice contradicted all their noble
precepts of resignation and submission to the divine will is too
evident to need any enlargement. They professed, indeed, in
suicide to follow the divine will; but this was a lamentably
weak pretence. Even supposing sufferings to be evils, they
are no proof of a signal from God to abandon life; but to
show an exemplary patience, which he will reward: but, sup-
posing them, as the Stoics did, not to be evils, they afford not
so much as the shadow of a proof. 49

27. As the Stoics, by the permission of suicide, plainly im-
plied that external inconveniences were not indifferent in the
extremity, it follows that they must proportionably be allowed
not to be indifferent in the inferior degrees; of which Zeno
seemed to be perfectly well convinced, by hanging himself when
his finger ached. And where was the use of taking so much
pains to say and believe what they knew to be false? It might,
perhaps, be thought to be of some benefit, in the time of the
later Stoics, to the great men of Rome, whom the emperors
frequently butchered at their pleasure: and this is the use to
which Epictetus is perpetually applying it. Yet, even in this
case, the Stoic doctrine, where men could bring themselves to act
upon it, made them absurdly rough, as appears by the history of
Hclvidius Priscus, and hindered the good they might otherwise
have done. And if a man, taught thus to despise tortures and
death, should happen at the same time to be wrong-headed, for
which he had no small chance, he would in one respect be a more
terrible wild beast than an enthusiast of any other sect, as he
would not think his sufferings evils; though in another he would
be less so, as he would not hope to be rewarded for them here-
after.

28. The Stoics are frequently, and justly, charged with great
arrogance in their discourses, and even in their addresses to God.
They assert, however, the doctrine of grace, and the duty of
praise and thanksgiving for the divine assistance in moral im-
provements. 60 But there doth not, I think, appear any instance
of a Stoic, or perhaps any other heathen philosopher, addressing

xviii The Discourses of Epictetus

his repentance to God, and begging pardon for his failings, or
directing his disciples to do it. Indeed nothing can excuse
their idolatry of human nature, which they proudly and incon-
sistently supposed perfect and self-sufficient. Seneca carried the
matter so far as by an impious antithesis to give his wise man
the superiority to God. 51 Epictetus indeed was attentive enough
to the voice of conscience to own himself not perfect: 52 and he
sometimes tells his hearers that they cannot be perfect yet. 63
But even he at other times informs them that they are not
inferior to the gods. 54 The Stoical boasting will, however, imply
Jess of personal arrogance, if we can suppose that those speeches,
which so ill become human imperfection, were always uttered,
.as perhaps in part they often were, in the character of their
;idol, the perfectly wise and good man, which they owned to be
merely an ideal being. 55 At least, it may be affirmed with truth
that they frequently mention themselves with decency and
humility, and with an express confession of their deviation from
this faultless exemplar.

29. But then, where was the use of their favourite doctrine,
that a wise man must always be happy? Might not a person,
determined to follow his own inclinations, very reasonably
object, " What is that to me if I am not, or to anybody else if
jio one ever was, a wise man? But suppose I were one; which
Js the better grounded argument? You must always be happy,
and therefore externals are no evils; or, These things are evils,
.-and therefore I am not happy. But Epictetus will say, You
thave a remedy: the door is open; go, with great good humour
.and thankfulness, and hang yourself, and there will be an end
'Of your pain and you together. A fine scheme of happiness
indeed! and much to be thankful for! Why, is it not the
shorter and merrier way, instead of studying this crabbed
philosophy, to indulge myself in whatever I like, as long as I
can -(it may chance to be a good while), and hang myself thank-
iully, when I feel inconveniences from that? The door is just
:as open in one case, as in the other; and nothing beyond it
either pleasing or terrible in either." Such, alas! is the con-
clusion too commonly drawn; and such must be the conse-
quences of every doctrine not built upon solid foundations.

30. Epictetus often lays it down as a maxim, that it is im-
possible for one person to be in fault, and another to be the
sufferer. This, on the supposition of a future state, will certainly
be made true at last; but in the Stoical sense and system is an
absolute extravagance. Take any person of plain understanding,

Introduction xix

with all the feelings of humanity about him, and see whether the
subtlest Stoic will ever be able to convince him that while he is
insulted, oppressed, and tortured, he doth not suffer. See what
comfort it will afford him to be told that, if he supports his
afflictions and ill-treatment with fortitude and patience, death
will set him free, and then he and his persecutor will be equally
rewarded, will equally lose all personal existence, and return to
the elements. How different are the consolations proposed by
Christianity, which not only assures its disciples that they shall
rest from their labours in death, but that their works shall
follow them; and, by allowing them to rejoice in hope, teaches
them the most effectual way of becoming patient in tribu-
lation !

31. The Stoical doctrine, that human souls are literally parts
of the deity, was equally shocking and hurtful; as it supposed
portions of his being to be wicked and miserable; and, by de-
basing men's ideas of the divine dignity, and teaching them to
think themselves essentially as good as he, nourished in their
minds an irreligious and fatal presumption. Far differently
the Christian system represents mankind, not as a part of the
essence, but a work of the hand of God, as created in a state of
improvable virtue and happiness; fallen, by an abuse of free
will, into sin, misery, and weakness; w but redeemed from them
by an almighty Saviour; furnished with additional knowledge
and strength; commanded to use their best endeavours; made
sensible, at the same time, how wretchedly defective they are;
yet assured of endless felicity on a due exertion of them. The
Stoic philosophy insults human nature, and discourages all our
attempts, by enjoining and promising a perfection in this life
of which we feel ourselves incapable. The Christian religion
shows compassion to our weakness, by prescribing to us only
the practicable task of aiming continually at further improve-
ments; and animates our endeavours by the promise of a divine,
aid equal to every trial.

32. Specifying thus the errors and defects of so celebrated a
system is an unpleasing employment; but in an age fond of
preferring the guesses of human sagacity before the unerring
declarations of God, it seemed on this occasion necessary to
observe that the Christian morality is agreeable to reason and
nature ; that of the Stoics, for the most part, founded on notions
intelligible to few, and which none could admit without con-
tradiction to their own hearts. They reasoned many times
admirably well, but from false principles; and the noblest o

xx The Discourses of Epictetus

their practical precepts, being built on a sandy basis, lay at the
mercy of every strong temptation.

33. Stoicism is, indeed, in many points inferior to the
doctrine of Socrates, which did not teach that all externals were
indifferent; which did teach a future state of recompense; and,
agreeably to that, forbade suicide. It doth not belong to the
present subject to show how much even this best system is
excelled by Christianity. It is sufficient just to observe that
the author of it died in a profession, which he had always made,
of his belief in the popular deities, whose superstitions and
impure worship was the great source of corruption in the
heathen world; and the last words he uttered were a direction
to his friend for the performance of an idolatrous ceremony.
This melancholy instance of ignorance and error, in the most
illustrious character for wisdom and virtue in all heathen
antiquity, is not mentioned as a reflection on his memory, but
as a proof of human weakness in general. Whether reason
could have discovered the great truths which in these days are
ascribed to it, because now seen so clearly by the light of the
gospel, may be a question; but that it never did is an un-
deniable fact; and that is enough to teach us thankfulness for
the blessing of a better information. Socrates, who had, of all
mankind, the fairest pretensions to set up for an instructor and
reformer of the world, confessed that he knew nothing, referred
to traditions, and acknowledged the want of a superior guide;
and there is a remarkable passage in Epictetus, in which he
represents it as the office of his supreme god, or of one deputed
by him, to appear among mankind as a teacher and example. 67

34. Upon the whole, the several sects of heathen philosophy
serve as so many striking instances of the imperfection of human
wisdom, and of the extreme need of a divine assistance to rectify
the mistakes of depraved reason, and to replace natural religion
on its true foundation. The Stoics everywhere testify the
noblest zeal for virtue, and the honour of God; but they
attempted to establish them on principles inconsistent with the
nature of man, and contradictory to truth and experience. By
a direct consequence of these principles they were liable to be
seduced, and in fact often were seduced, into pride, hard-
heartedness, and the last dreadful extremity of human guilt,
self-murder.

35. But however indefensible the philosophy of the Stoics
in several instances may be, it appears to have been of very
important use in the heathen world; and they are, on many

Introduction xxi

accounts, to be considered in a very respectable light. Their
doctrine of evidence and fixed principles was an excellent pre-
servative from the mischiefs that might have aiisen from the
scepticism of the Academics and Pyrrhonists, if unopposed;
and their zealous defence of a particular providence a valuable
antidote to the atheistical scheme of Epicurus. To this may be
added, that their strict notions of virtue in most points (for they
sadly failed in some), and the lives of several among them, must
contribute a good deal to preserve luxurious states from an
absolutely universal dissoluteness, and the subjects of arbitrary
government from a wretched and contemptible pusillanimity.

36. Even now their compositions may be read with great
advantage, as containing excellent rules of self-government and
of social behaviour, of a noble reliance on the aid and protection
of Heaven, and of a perfect resignation and submission to the
divine will; points which are treated with great clearness, and
with admirable spirit, in the lessons of the Stoics; and though
their directions are seldom practicable on their principles, in
trying cases, may be rendered highly useful in subordination to-
Christian reflections.

37. If, among those who are so unhappy as to remain un-
convinced of the truth of Christianity, any are prejudiced against
it by the influence of unwarrantable inclinations, such persons
will find very little advantage in rejecting the doctrines of the
New Testament for those of the portico, unless they think it an
advantage to be laid under moral restraints almost equal to those
of the gospel, while they are deprived of its encouragements
and supports. Deviations from the rules of sobriety, justice, and
piety meet with small indulgence in the Stoic writings; and
they who profess to admire Epictetus, unless they pursue that
severely virtuous conduct which he everywhere prescribes, will
find themselves treated by him with the utmost degree of scorn
and contempt. An immoral character is indeed, more or less,
the outcast of all sects of philosophy; and Seneca quotes even
Epicurus to prove the universal obligation of a virtuous life. 681
Of this great truth, God never left himself without witness.
Persons of distinguished talents and opportunities seem to have
been raised, from time to time, by Providence to check the
torrent of corruption, and to preserve the sense of moral obliga-
tions on the minds of the multitude, to whom the various
occupations of life left but little leisure to form deductions of
their own. But then, they wanted a proper commission to
enforce their precepts; they intermixed with them, through

xxii The Discourses of Epictetus

false reasoning, many gross mistakes; and their unavoidable
ignorance, in several important points, entangled them with
doubts, which easily degenerated into pernicious errors.

38. If there are others who reject Christianity from motives
of dislike to its peculiar doctrines, they will scarcely fail of
entertaining more favourable impressions of it if they can be
prevailed on, with impartiality, to compare the holy Scriptures,
from whence alone the Christian religion is to be learned, with the
Stoic writings; and then fairly to consider whether there is any-
thing to be met with in the discourses of our blessed Saviour,
in the writings of his Apostles, or even in the obscurest parts of
the prophetic books, by which, equitably interpreted, either
their senses or their reason are contradicted, as they are by the
paradoxes of these philosophers; and if not, whether notices
from above, of things in which, though we comprehend them
but imperfectly, we are possibly much more interested than at
present we discern, ought not to be received with implicit
veneration, as useful exercises and trials of that duty which
finite understandings owe to infinite wisdom.

39. Antiquity furnishes but very few particulars of the life
of Epictetus. He was born at Hierapolis, a city of Phrygia;
but of what parents is unknown, as well as by what means he
came to Rome, where he was the slave of Epaphroditus, one of
Nero's courtiers. 59 It is reported that when his master once put
his leg to the torture, Epictetus, with great composure, and even
smiling, observed to him, " You will certainly break my leg; "
which accordingly happened, and he continued, in the same
tone of voice, " Did not I tell you that you would break it? " w
This accident might perhaps be the occasion of his lameness,
which, however, some authors say he had from his early years, 61
and others attribute to the rheumatism. 62 At what time he
obtained his liberty doth not appear. When the philosophers,
by a decree of Domitian, were banished from Rome, Epictetus
retired to Nicopolis, 63 a city of Epirus, where he taught philo-
sophy; from which he doth not seem to have derived any
external advantages, as he is universally said to have been
extremely poor. At least he was so when he lived at Rome,
where his whole furniture consisted of a bed, 64 a pipkin, and an
earthen lamp; M which last was purchased for about a hundred
pounds, after his death, by a person whom Lucian ridicules for
it, as hoping to acquire the wisdom of Epictetus by studying
over it. His only attendant was a woman, whom he took in
his advanced years to nurse a child whom, otherwise, one of his

Introduction xxiii

friends would have exposed to perish; M an amiable proof of the
poor old man's good-nature, and disapprobation, it is to be
hoped, of that shocking, yet common, instance of heathen
blindness and barbarity.

In this extreme poverty, a cripple, unattended, and destitute
of almost every convenience of life, Epictetus was not only
obliged by the rules of his philosophy to think himself happy,
but actually did so, according to the distich of which Aulus
Gellius affirms him to have been the author: 67

" A slave, in body maimed, as Irus poor;
Yet to the gods was Epictetus dear."

He ,is said to have returned to Rome in the reign of Hadrian,,
and to have been treated by him with a high degree of famili-
arity. 68 If this be true, he lived to a great age. But that
he should continue alive to the time of M. Antoninus, as Themis-
tius 69 and Suidas 70 affirm, is utterly improbable, 71 as the learned
Fabricius observes; to whose life of Epictetus 72 I am greatly
indebted. When or where he died is, I think, nowhere
mentioned. All authors agree in bearing testimony to the
unblemished conduct of his life, and the usefulness of his
instructions. The last-named emperor expresses much obliga-
tion to a friend who had communicated his works to him; 73
and in another place he ranks him, not only with Chrysippus,
but with Socrates. 74 A., Gellius calls him the greatest of the
Stoics. 76 Origen affirms that his writings had done more good
than Plato's; 7e and Simplicius says, perhaps by way of indirect
opposition to an infinitely better book, that he who is not
influenced by them is reclaimable by nothing but the chastise-
ments of another world. 77 In what manner he instructed his
pupils will be seen in the following treatise.

40. There are so many of the sentiments and expressions of
Christianity in it, that one should be strongly tempted to think
that Epictetus was acquainted with the New Testament, if such
a supposition was not highly injurious to his character. To
have known the contents of that book, and not to have been led
by them into an inquiry which must have convinced him of
their truth, would argue such an obstinacy of prejudice as one
would not willingly impute to a mind which appears so well
disposed. > And, even passing over this consideration, to have
borrowed so much from Christianity as he seems to have done,
without making the least acknowledgment from whence he
received it, would be an instance of disingenuity utterly un-

xxiv The Discourses of Epictetus

worthy of an honest man, and inconsistent with his practice in
other respects; for he often quotes, with great applause, the
sentences of many writers not of his own sect. Possibly indeed
he might, like the other heathens in general, have a peculiar
contempt of, and aversion to, Christian authors, as akin to the
Jews, and opposers of the established worship; notwithstanding
those parts of them which he must approve. But still, I hope,
his conformity with the sacred writings may be accounted for
without supposing him acquainted with Christianity as such.
The great number of its professors, dispersed through the
Roman empire, had probably introduced several of the New
Testament phrases into the popular language ; and the Christian
religion might by that time have diffused some degree of general
illumination, of which many might receive the benefit who
were ignorant of the source from whence it proceeded; and
Epictetus I apprehend to have been of this number. Several
striking instances of this resemblance between him and the New
Testament have been observed in the notes; and the attentive
reader will find many which are not mentioned, and may per-
ceive from them, either that the Stoics admired the Christian
language, however they came to the knowledge of it, or that
treating a subject practically, and with a feeling of its force,
leads men to such strong expressions as we find in Scripture, and
should find oftener in the philosophers if they had been more
in earnest; but, however, they occur frequently enough to
vindicate those, in which the Scriptures abound, from the
contempt and ridicule of light minds.

41. Arrian, the disciple of Epictetus, to whom we are
obliged for these discourses, was a Greek by birth, but a senator
and consul of Rome, and an able commander in war. 78 He
imitated Xenophon, both in his life and writings; and
particularly in delivering to posterity the conversations of his
master. There were originally twenty books of them, besides
the Enchiridion, which seems to be taken out of them, and an
account of his life and death. Very little order or method is to
be found in them, or was from the nature of them to be expected.
The connection is often scarcely discoverable; a reference to
particular incidents, long since forgotten, at the same time that
it evidences their genuineness, often renders them obscure in
some places, and the great corruption of the text in others.
Yet, under all these disadvantages, this immethodical collection
is perhaps one of the most valuable remains of antiquity; and
they who consult it with any degree of attention can scarcely

Introduction xxv

fail of receiving improvement. Indeed, it is hardly possible to
be inattentive to so awakening a speaker as Epictetus. There
is such a warmth and spirit in his exhortations; and his good
sense is enlivened by such a keenness of wit, and gaiety of
humour, as render the study of him a most delightful as well as
profitable entertainment.

42. For this reason it was judged proper that a translation
of him should be undertaken; there being none, I believe, but of
the Enchiridion in any modern language, excepting a pretty
good French one, published about a hundred and fifty years
ago, and so extremely scarce that I was unable to procure it,
till Mr. Harris obligingly lent it to me after I had published the
proposals for printing this, which, notwithstanding the assist-
ance given me in the prosecution of it, hath still, I am sensible,
great faults. But they who will see them the most clearly will
be the readiest to excuse, as they will know best the difficulty of
avoiding them. There is one circumstance which, 1 am appre-
hensive, must be particularly striking, and possibly shocking to
many, the frequent use of some words in an unpopular sense;
an inconvenience which, however, I flatter myself, the intro-
duction and notes will, in some degree, remove. In the trans-
lation of technical terms, if the same Greek word had not
always been rendered in the same manner, at least when the
propriety of our language will at all permit it, every new ex-
pression would have been apt to raise a new idea. The reader,
I hope, will pardon, if not approve, the uncouthness, in many
places, of a translation pretty strictly literal; as it seemed
necessary, upon the whole, to preserve the original spirit, the
peculiar turn and characteristic roughness of the author. For
else, taking greater liberties would have spared me no small
pains.

I have been much indebted to Mr. Upton's edition, by which
many passages, unintelligible before, are cleared up. His
emendations have often assisted me in the text, and his refer-
ences furnished me with materials for the historical notes.

ELIZABETH CARTER.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION. By the Translator ...... ix

ARRIAN TO Lucius GELLIUS i

BOOK I

CHAP.

i. Of the Things which are, and of those which are not, in our

own Power ........ 3

ii. In what Manner upon every Occasion to preserve our Char-
acter 6

in. How, from the Doctrine that God is the Father of Mankind,

we may proceed to its Consequences .... 9

iv. Of Improvement 10

v. Concerning the Academics . . . . . .12

vi. Of Providence 13

vn. Of the Use of convertible and hypothetical Propositions, and

the like ......... 17

vni. That Faculties are not safe to the Uninstructed . . 19
ix. How from the Doctrine of our Kindred to God we are to

proceed to its Consequences . . . . .21

x. Concerning those who strove for Preferments at Rome . 24

xi. Of Natural Affection 25

xii. Of Contentment ........ 29

xin. How Everything may be performed acceptably to the Gods 32

xiv. That all Things are under the Divine Inspection . , 32

xv. What it is that Philosophy promises .... 34

xvi. Of Providence 35

xvii. That the Art of Reasoning is necessary .... 36

xvin. That we are not to be angry with the Errors of Others . 39

xix. Of the Behaviour to be observed towards Tyrants , . 41

xx. In what manner Reason contemplates Itself ... 43

xxi. Of the Desire of Admiration 45

xxn. Of Pre- conceptions ....... 45

xxin. Against Epicurus ........ 47

xxiv. How we are to struggle with Difficulties .... 48

xxv. On the same Subject 50

xxvi. What the Law of Life is 52

xxvu. Of the several Appearances of Things to the Mind: and what

Remedies are to be provided for them . . 54
xxvin. That we are not to be angry with Mankind. What Things

are little, what great among Men . . . .56

xxix. Of Intrepidity 59

xxx. What we ought to have ready in difficult Circumstances . 64
xxvi

Contents xxvii

BOOK II

CHAP. PAOE

i. That Courage is not inconsistent with Caution ... 66

ii. Of Tranquillity 70

in. Concerning such as recommend Persons to the Philosophers 72

iv. Concerning a Person who had been guilty of Adultery . 72

v. How Magnanimity may be consistent with Care . . 74

vi. Of Indifference 77

vn. Of Divination 79

vin. Wherein consists the Essence of Good So
ix. That when we are unable to fulfil what the Character of a

Man promises, we assume that of a Philosopher . . 83
x. How we may Investigate the Duties of Life from the Names

which we bear ....... 85

xi. What the Beginning of Philosophy is . . .87

XH. Of Disputation 90

xni. Of Solicitude 92

xiv. Concerning Naso ........ 95

xv. Concerning those who obstinately persevere in what they have

determined ........ 98

xvi. That we do not study to make Use of the Principles con-
cerning Good and Evil ...... 99

xvn. How to adapt Pre- conceptions to particular Cases . . 104

xvin. How the appearances of Things are to be combated . . 107

xix. Concerning those who embrace Philosophy only in Word . no

xx. Concerning the Epicureans and Academics . . .113

xxi. Of Inconsistency 117

xxii. Of Friendship 119

XXIH. Of the Faculty of Speaking .123

xxiv. Concerning a Person whom he treated with Disregard . 127

xxv. That Logic is necessary .130

xxvi. What is the Property of Errors in Life . . . 131

BOOK III

I. Of Finery in Dress 132

n. In what a Proficient ought to be exercised, and that we

neglect the principal Things 137

in. What is the Subject-matter of a good Man; and in what we

chiefly ought to be Practitioners . . . .139
iv. Concerning one who exerted himself, with indecent Eager-
ness, in the Theatre ^41

v. Concerning those who pretend Sickness as an Excuse to

return Home ........ 142

vi. Miscellaneous 144

vn. Concerning a Governor of the Free States who was an

Epicurean 145

xxviii The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAP. PAGE

vin. How we are to exercise Ourselves against the Appearances

of Things 148

ix. Concerning a certain Orator who was going to Rome on a

Law-suit 149

x. In what Manner we ought to bear Sickness . . .151

xi. Miscellaneous 153

xn. Of Ascetic Exercise . . . . . . .154

xin. What Solitude is, and what a solitary Person . . .156
xiv. Miscellaneous . . . . . . . .158

xv. That Everything is to be undertaken with Circumspection . 159
xvi. That Caution is necessary in Condescension and Com-
plaisance 160

xvn. Of Providence 162

xvin. That we ought not to be alarmed by any News that is

brought us ........ 163

xix. What is the Condition of the Vulgar, and what of a Philo-
sopher 164

xx. That some Advantage may be gained from every external

Circumstance . . . . . . . .164

xxi. Concerning those who readily set up for Sophists . .166

xxii. Of the Cynic Philosophy 168

xxm. Concerning such as read and dispute ostentatiously , . 178
xxiv. That we ought not to be affected by Things not in our own

Power 182

xxv. Concerning those who desist from their Purpose . .194
xxvi. Concerning those who are in Dread of Want . . 195

BOOK IV

i. Of Freedom ......... 200

n. Of Complaisance 217

in. What Things are to be exchanged for Others . . .218

iv. Concerning those who earnestly desire a Life of Repose . 219

v. Concerning the Quarrelsome and Ferocious . . . 224
vi. Concerning those who grieve at being pitied . . .228

vii. Of Fearlessness 232

vm. Concerning such as hastily run into the philosophic Dress . 236
ix. Concerning a Person who was grown Immodest . . . 241
x. What Things we are to despise, and on what to place a dis-
tinguished Value 243

xi. Of Purity and Cleanliness 246

xn. Of Attention 249

xni. Concerning such as readily discover their own Affairs . . 252

THE ENCHIRIDION 255

FRAGMENTS .* 275

NOTES ........... 303

GLOSSARY 349

INDEX 353

ARRIAN

TO

LUCIUS GELLIUS

WISHETH ALL HAPPINESS

I NEITHER composed the Discourses of Epictetus in such a
manner as things of this nature are commonly composed, nor
did I myself produce them to public view any more than I com-
posed them. But whatever sentiments I heard from his own
mouth, the very same I endeavoured to set down in the very
same words, as far as possible, and preserve as memorials, for
my own use, of his manner of thinking and freedom of speech.

These discourses are such as one person would naturally
deliver from his own thoughts, extempore, to another; not such
as he would prepare to be read by numbers afterwards. Yet,
notwithstanding this, I cannot tell how, without either my con-
sent 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 discourses l
with contempt; since it was very evident, even when he uttered
them, that he aimed at nothing more than to excite his hearers
to virtue. If they produce that one effect, they have in them
what, I think, philosophical discourses ought to have. And
should they fail of it, let the readers, however, be assured, that
when Epictetus himself pronounced them, his audience could
not help being affected in the very manner he intended they
should. If by themselves they have less efficacy, perhaps it is
my fault, or perhaps it is unavoidable. Farewell.

1 He means the composition, not the subject matter of them.

THE

DISCOURSES OF EPICTETUS

BOOK I
CHAPTER I

OF THE THINGS WHICH ARE, AND OF THOSE WHICH ARE
NOT, IN OUR OWN POWER

i. OF other faculties, you will find no one that contemplates,
or consequently approves or disapproves, itself. How far does
the contemplative power of grammar extend ?

As far as the judging of language.

Of music ?

As far as 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.

What will tell, then?

That which contemplates both itself and all other things.

And what is that?

The reasoning faculty; for that alone is found to consider
both itself, its powers, its value, and likewise all the rest. For
what is it else that says gold is beautiful? (for the gold itself
does not speak). Evidently that faculty which judges of
the appearances of things. 1 What else distinguishes music,
grammar, the other faculties, proves their uses, and shows their
proper occasions ?

Nothing but this,

3

4 The Discourses of Epictetus

2. 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 not in our
power. Was it because they would not? I rather think, that
if they could, they had granted us these too : but they certainly
could not. For, placed upon Earth, and confined to such a
body, and to such companions, how was it possible that in
these respects we should not be hindered by things without us?

3. But what says Jupiter? " Epictetus, if it were pos-
sible, I had made this little body and property of thine free, and
not liable to hindrance. But now do not mistake: it is not
thine own, but only a finer mixture of clay. 2 Since, then, I
could not 3 give thee this, I have given thee a certain portion
of myself: this faculty of exerting the powers of pursuit and
avoidance, 4 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 thenl Do all these
advantages seem small to thee?" Heaven forbid! "Let
them suffice thee then, and thank the gods."

4. But now, when it is in our power to take care of one thing,
and to apply 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
doth not happen to be fair for sailing, we sit screwing ourselves,
and perpetually looking out. Which way is the wind ? North.
What have we to do with that? When will the west blow?
When itself, friend, or ^Eolus pleases; for Jupiter has not made
you dispenser of the winds, but ^Eolus.

5. What, then, is to be done?

To make the best of what is in our power, and take the rest
as it naturally happens.

And how is that?

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, 5 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, 6
the freedman of Nero, interrogated him about the conspiracy;

How to Face Death 5

" If I have a mind to say any thing/' replied he, " I will tell it
to your master."

6. What then should we have at hand upon such occasions?
Why what else but what is mine, and what not mine ; what is
permitted me, and what not. I must die: and must I die
groaning too? Be fettered. Must it be lamenting too?
Exiled. And what hinders me, then, but that I may go smiling,
and cheerful, and serene ? " Betray a secret " I will not betray
it; for this is in my own power. " Then I will fetter you."
What do you say, man ? Fetter me ? You will fetter my leg ;
but not Jupiter himself can get the better of my choice. 7 " I
will throw you into prison: I will behead that paltry body of
yours." Did I ever tell you, that I alone had a head not liable
to be cut off? These things ought philosophers to study;
these ought they daily to write; and in these to exercise them-
selves.

7. Thrasea 8 used to say, " I had rather be killed to-day
than banished to-morrow." But how did Rufus f answer him?
" If you prefer it as a heavier misfortune, how foolish a prefer-
ence! If as a lighter, who has put it in your power? Why do
not you study to be contented with what is allotted you? "

8. Well, and what said Agrippinus 10 upon this account?
" I will not be a hindrance to myself." Word was brought him,
" Your cause is trying 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." When it was
over a messenger tells him, " You are condemned." To banish-
ment, says he, or death? "To banishment." What of my
estate? " It is not taken away." Well then, let us go as far
as Aricia, 11 and dine there.

9. This it is to have studied what ought to be studied ; to
have rendered our desires and aversions incapable of being
restrained, or incurred. I must die: if instantly, I will die
instantly; if in a short time, I will dine first; and when the
hour comes, then I will die. How? As becomes one who
restores what is not his own.

The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER II

IN WHAT MANNER UPON EVERY OCCASION TO PRESERVE
OUR CHARACTER

i. To a reasonable creature, that alone is insupportable which
is unreasonable: but everything reasonable may be supported.
Stripes are not naturally insupportable. "How so?" See
how the Spartans * 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 2 himself. In short, we shall find by observa-
tion, 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.

2. But it happens that different things are reasonable and
unreasonable, as well as good and bad, advantageous and dis-
advantageous, 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 to nature. But to judge of reasonable and
unreasonable, we make use not only of a due estimation of things
without us, but of what relates to each person's particular
character. Thus, it is reasonable for one man to submit to a
dirty 3 disgraceful office, who considers this only, that if he does
not submit to it, he shall be whipt, and lose his dinner; but if he
does, that he has nothing hard or disagreeable to suffer: whereas
to another it appears insupportable, not only to submit to such
an office himself, but to bear with any one else who does. If
you ask me, then, whether you shall do this dirty office or not,
I will tell you, it is a more valuable thing to get a dinner, than
not; and a greater disgrace to be whipt than not to be whipt:
so that, if you measure yourself by these things, go and do
your office.

" Ay, but this is not suitable to my character. 7 *

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.

3. Hence Agrippinus, 4 when Florus was considering whether
he should go to Nero's shows, so as to perform some part in

Intrepid Courage 7

them himself, bid him go. " But why do not you go then? "
says Florus. " Because," replied Agrippinus, " I do not
deliberate about it." For he who once sets himself about such
considerations, and goes to calculating the worth of external
things, approaches very near to those who forget their own
character. For, why do you ask me whether death or life be
the more eligible ? I answer, life. Pain or pleasure ? I answer,
pleasure. " But if I do not act a part, I shall lose my head."
Go and act it then, but I will not. " Why? " Because you
esteem yourself only as one thread of many that make up the
piece. "What then?" You have nothing to care for, but
how to be like the rest of mankind, as one thread desires not to
be distinguished from the others. But I would be the purple, 5
that small and shining thing, which gives a lustre and beauty
to the rest. Why do you bid me resemble the multitude then?
At that rate, how shall I be the purple ?

4. This Priscus Helvidius 6 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 there." " Do not ask my opinion, and I will be
silent."" But I must ask it."" And I must speak what
appears to me to be right." " But if you do, I will put you to
death." " Did I ever tell you that I was immortal? You will
do your part, and I mine: It is yours to kill, and mine to die
intrepid; yours to banish me, mine to depart untroubled."

5. What good, then, did Priscus do, who was but a single
person? Why what good does the purple do to the garment?
What but the being a shining character in himself, 7 and setting a
good example to others? Another, perhaps, if in such circum-
stances Csesar had forbidden his going to the senate, would have
answered, " I 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, he would say what
he knew to be agreeable to Caesar, and would overdo it by adding
still more.

6. 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 morbid part, and return again to the field." He refused,
and courageously died.

7. When it was asked whether he acted thus as a wrestler, or

8 The Discourses of Epictetus

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 of Bato. 8 Another would have had his very
head cut off, if he could have lived without it. This is that
regard to character, so powerful with those who are accustomed
to introduce it, from their own breasts, into their deliberations.

8. " Come now, Epictetus, take off your beard." 9 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 off.

9. It was asked, How shall each of us perceive what belongs
to his character ? Whence, replied Epictetus, does a bull, when
the lion approaches, perceive his own qualifications, 10 and expose
himself alone for the whole herd ? It is evident, that with the
qualifications, occurs at the same time the consciousness of
being endued with them. And in the same manner, whoever of
us had 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.

10. Only consider at what price you sell your own will and
choice, man: u if for nothing else, that you may not sell it for a
trifle. Greatness indeed, and excellence, perhaps belong to
others, to such as Socrates.

Why then, as we are born with a like nature, do not all, or the
greater number, become such as he ?

Why, are all horses swift? Are all dogs sagacious? What
then, because nature hath not befriended me, shall I neglect
all care of myself? Heaven forbid! Epictetus is inferior to

Socrates; 12 but if superior to this is enough for me. I shall

never be Milo, and yet I do not neglect my body; nor Croesus,
and yet I do not neglect my property: nor, in general, do we
omit the care of any thing belonging to us, from a despair of
arriving at the highest degree of perfection.

God the Father of Mankind

CHAPTER III

HOW, FROM THE DOCTRINE THAT GOD IS THE FATHER OF
MANKIND, WE MAY PROCEED TO ITS CONSEQUENCES

i. 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 gods and men, I conceive he never would think
meanly or degenerately concerning himself. Suppose Caesar
were to adopt you, there would be no bearing your haughty
looks: and will you not be elated on knowing yourself to be the
son of Jupiter? Yet, in fact, we are not elated; but having
two things in our composition, intimately united, a body in
common with the brutes, and reason and sentiment in common
with the gods, many incline to this unhappy and mortal kindred,
and only some few to the divine and happy one. And, as oi
necessity every one must treat each particular thing, according
to the notions he forms about it; so those few, who think they
are made for fidelity, decency, and a well-grounded use of the
appearances of things, never think meanly or degenerately con-
cerning themselves. But with the multitude the case is con-
trary: " For what am I? A poor contemptible man, with this
miserable flesh of mine ! " Miserable indeed. But you have
likewise something better than this paltry flesh. Why then,
overlooking that, do you pine away in attention to this ?

2. By means of this [animal] kindred, some of us, deviating
towards it, become like wolves, faithless and insidious and mis-
chievous: others, like lions, wild and savage and untamed : but
most of us foxes, and wretches even among brutes. For what
else is a slanderous and ill-natured man, than a fox, or something
yet more wretched and mean ? See then, and take heed, that
you do not become such wretches.

io The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER IV

OF IMPROVEMENT

i. HE who is entering on a state of improvement, having
learnt from the philosophers, that the object of desire is good,
of aversion, evil; and having learnt too, that prosperity and
ease are no otherwise attainable by man, than in not being dis-
appointed of his desire, nor incurring his aversion: such as one
removes totally from himself and postpones desire, 1 and applies
aversion only to things dependent on choice. For if he should
be averse to things independent on choice, he knows that he
must sometimes incur his aversion, and be unhappy. Now if
virtue promises happiness, prosperity, and ease, then an improve-
ment in virtue is certainly an improvement in each of these.
For to whatever point of perfection of anything absolutely brings
us, improvement is always an approach towards it.

2. How happens it then, that when we confess virtue to be
such, yet we seek, and make an ostentatious show of improve-
ment in other things? What is the business of virtue?

A prosperous life.

Who is in a state of improvement then? He who hath read
the many treatises of Chrysippus ? 2 Why, doth virtue consist in
having read Chrysippus through? If it doth, improvement is
confessedly nothing else than understanding a great deal of
Chrysippus: otherwise we confess virtue to produce one thing;
and declare improvement, which is an approach to it, to be
quite another thing.

3. This person, says one, is already able to read Chrysippus,
by himself. " Certainly, sir, you have made a vast improve-
ment!" What improvement? Why do you ridicule him?
Why do you withdraw him from a sense of his misfortunes?
Why do not you show him the business of virtue, that he may
know where to seek improvement? Seek it there, wretch,
where your business lies. And where doth your business lie?
In desire and aversion; that you may neither be disappointed
of the one, nor incur the other: in exerting the powers of pur-
suit and avoidance, that you may not be liable to fail; in assent
and suspense, that you may not be liable to be deceived. The
first and most necessary is the first topic. 3 But if you seek to

Of Improvement 1 1

avoid incurring your aversion, trembling and lamenting all the
while, at this rate how do you improve ?

4. Show me then your improvement in this point. As if I
should say to a wrestler, Show me your shoulders ; and he should
answer me, " See my poisers." Do you and your poisers look
to that: I desire to see the effect of them.

" Take the treatise on the subject of the active powers, and
see how thoroughly I have perused it."

I do not inquire into this, wretch: but how you exert those
powers; how you manage your desires and aversions, how your
intentions and purposes; how" you are prepared for events,
whether conformably or contrary to nature. If conformably,
give me evidence of that, and I will say you improve: if con-
trary, go your way, and not only comment on these treatises, but
write such yourself; and what service will it do you? Do not
you know that the whole volume is sold for half-a-crown ?
Doth he who comments upon it, then, value himself at more
than half-a-crown? Never look for your business in one thing,
and for improvement in another.

Where is improvement, then ?

If any of you, withdrawing himself from externals, turns to
his own faculty of choice, to exercise, and finish, and render it
conformable to nature ; elevated, free, unrestrained, unhindered,
faithful, decent: if he hath learnt too, that whoever desires, or
is averse to, things out of his own power, can neither be faithful
nor free, but must necessarily be changed and tossed up and
down with them; must necessarily too be subject to others, to
such as can procure or prevent what he desires or is averse to:
if, rising in the morning, he observes and keeps to these ruhs;
bathes and eats as a man of fidelity and honour; and thus, on
every subject of action, exercises himself in his principal duty;
as a racer, in the business of racing; as a public speaker, in the
business of exercising his voice: this is he who truly improves;
this is he who hath not travelled in vain. But if he is wholly
intent on reading books, and hath laboured that point only, and
travelled* for that: I bid him go home immediately, and not
neglect his domestic affairs ; for what he travelled for is nothing.
The only real thing is, studying how to rid his life of lamentation,
and complaint, and "Alas!" and "I am undone," and mis-
fortune, and disappointment; and to learn what death, what
exile, what prison, what poison is: that he may be able to say
in a prison, like Socrates, " My dear Crito, if it thus pleases the
gods, thus let it be "; and not " Wretched old man, have I

1 2 The Discourses of Epictetus

kept my grey hairs for this!" Who speaks thus? Do you
suppose I will name some mean and despicable person? Is it
not Priam who says it? Is it not OEdipus? Nay, how many
kings say it? For what else is tragedy, but the sufferings of
men, struck by an admiration of externals, represented in that
kind of poetry? If one was to be taught by fictions, that
externals independent upon choice are nothing to us; I, for my
part, should wish for such a fiction, as that, by which I might
live prosperously and undisturbed. What you wish for, it is
your business to consider.

5. Of what service, then, is Chrysippus to us?

To teach you that those things are not false on which pros-
perity and ease depend. " Take my books, and you will see
how true and conformable to nature those things are which
render me easy." How great a happiness ! And how great the
benefactor who shows the way 1 To Triptolemus all men have
raised temples and altars, because he gave us a milder kind of
food ; but to him who hath discovered, and brought to light, and
communicated, the truth to all; the means not of living, but of
living well; who among you ever raised an altar or a temple, or
dedicated a statue, or who worships God on that account? We
offer sacrifices on the account of those who have given us corn
and the vine ; and shall we not give thanks to God, for those who
have produced that fruit in the human understanding, by which
they proceed to discover to us the true doctrine of happiness?

CHAPTER V

CONCERNING THE ACADEMICS l

i. IF any one opposes very evident truths, it is not easy to
find a reason which may persuade him to alter his opinion.
This arises neither from his own strength, nor from the weakness
of his teacher: but when, after being driven upon an absurdity,
he becomes petrified, how shall we deal with him any longer by
reason?

2. Now there are two sorts of petrifaction: the one, a petri-
faction of the understanding; the other, of the sense of shame,
when a person hath obstinately set himself not to assent to
evident truths, nor to quit the defence of contradictions.
We all dread a bodily mortification; and would make use

Of Providence 1 3

of every contrivance to avoid it: but none of us is troubled
about a mortification 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 sense of shame and modesty is under
an absolute mortification, we go so far as even to call this,
strength to mind. 2

3. Are you certain that you are awake? "I am not "
(replies such a person): " for neither am I certain, when, in
dreaming, I appear to myself to be awake." Is there no differ-
ence, 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 mortification? He is
sensible of it, and pretends not to be so. He is even worse than
dead. Doth not he see the repugnancy of contradictory pro-
positions? He sees it, and is never the better. He is neither
moved, nor improves. Nay, he is in a yet worse condition: his
sense of shame and modesty is utterly extirpated. His reasoning
faculty indeed is not extirpated, but turned wild and savage.
Shall I call this strength of mind? By no means: unless we
allow it be such in the vilest debauchees, publicly to speak and
act whatever comes into their heads.

CHAPTER VI

OF PROVIDENCE

i. FROM every event that happens in the world it is easy to
celebrate providence, if a person hath but these two circum-
stances in himself; a faculty of considering what happens to
each individual, and a grateful temper. Without the first he
will not perceive the usefulness of things which happen, and
without the other he will not be thankful for them. If God had
made colours, and had not made the faculty of seeing them,
what would have been their use ?

None.

On the contrary, if he had made the faculty without such
objects as fall under its observation, what would have been the
use of that?

None.

*B44

14 The Discourses of Epictetus

Again: if he had formed both the faculty and the objects, but
had not made light?

Neither in that case would they have been of any use.

2 Who is it, then, that hath fitted each of these to the other ?
Who is it that hath fitted the sword to the scabbard, and the
scabbard to the sword? Is it no one? From the very con-
struction 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. Doth every such work, then, demonstrate an
artificer; and do not visible objects, and the sense of seeing, and
Light, demonstrate one ? Doth not the difference of the sexes,
and their inclination to each other, and the use of their several
powers; do not these things, neither, demonstrate an artificer?

Most certainly they do.

3. But farther: this constitution of understanding, by which
we are not simply impressed by sensible objects ; but take and
subtract from them; and add and compose something out of
them; and pass from some to others absolutely remote: l Is not
all this, neither, sufficient to prevail on some men, and make
them ashamed of leaving an artificer out of their scheme? If
not, let them explain to us what it is that effects each of these ;
and how it is possible that things so wonderful, and which carry
such marks of contrivance, should come to pass spontaneously
and without design.

What, then, do these things come to pass for our service only ?

Many for ours only; such as are peculiarly necessary for a
reasonable creature; but you will find many common to us with
mere animals.

Then do they too understand what is done ?

Not at all; for use is one affair, and understanding another.
But God had need of animals to make use of the appearances of
things; 2 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 hath given likewise a faculty of under-
standing, these offices are not sufficient. For if we do not act
in a proper and orderly manner, and suitably to the nature and
constitution of each thing, we shall no longer 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.

Of Providence i 5

4. Well then: each of the animals is constituted either for
food, or husbandry, or to produce milk, and the rest of them
for some other like use; and for these purposes what need is
there of understanding the appearances of things, and being
able to make distinctions concerning them ? But God hath intro-
duced man as a spectator of himself and his works; and not
only as a spectator, but an interpreter of them. It is therefore
shameful that man should begin and end where irrational
creatures do. He is indeed rather to begin there, but to end
where nature itself hath fixed our end; and that is in contem-
plation find understanding, and in a scheme of life conformable
to nature.

5. Take care, then, not to die without being spectators of
these things. You take a journey to Olympia to behold the
work 3 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 understand and be spectators of 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 ? 4 Will you
never perceive, then, either what you are or for what you were
born; nor for what purpose you are admitted spectators of this
sight?

But there are some things unpleasant and difficult in life.

And are there none at Olympia? Are not you heated? Are
not you crowded ? Are not you without good conveniences for
bathing? 6 Are not you wet through when it happens to rain?
Do not you bear uproar and noise and other disagreeable cir-
cumstances? But, I suppose, by comparing all these with the
advantage of seeing so valuable a sight, you support and go
through them. Well, and [in the present case] have not you
received faculties by which you may support every event?
Have not you received greatness of soul? Have not you
received a manly spirit? Have not you received patience?
What signifies to me any thing that happens, while I have a
greatness of soul? What shall disconcert or trouble or appear
grievous to me ? Shall I not make use of my faculties, to that
purpose for which they were granted me, but lament and groan
at what happens ?

6. Oh, but my nose e runs.

And what have you hands for, beast, but to wipe it?

But was there, then, any good reason that there should be such
a dirty thing in the world?

And now much better is it that you should wipe your nose,

16 The Discourses of Epictetus

than complain ? Pray, what figure do you think Hercules would
have made if there had not been such 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 wrapt 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 the rest of his
strength; of his patience, and greatness of mind, if such circum-
stances 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 set off and
exercise Hercules. Do you therefore likewise, being sensible of
this, inspect the faculties you have, and after taking a view of
them, say, " Bring on me now, O Jupiter, what difficulty thou
wilt, for I have faculties granted me by thee, and abilities by
which I may acquire honour and ornament to myself." 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. For what is the consequence of
such a meanspiritedness, but impiety? and yet God hath not
only granted us 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, hath rendered them incapable of
restraint, compulsion, or hindrance, and entirely dependent on
our own pleasure: nor hath he reserved a power, even to him-
self, of hindering or restraining them. Having these things
free, and your own, will you make no use of them, nor consider
what you have received, nor from whom ? but sit groaning and
lamenting, some of you, blind to him who gave them, and not
acknowledging your benefactor; and others, basely turning
yourselves to complaints and accusations of God ? yet I under
take to show you that you have qualifications and occasions for
greatness of soul, and a manly spirit; but what occasions you
have to find fault, and complain, do you show me.

Of Right Reasoning 1 7

CHAPTER VII

OF THE USE OF CONVERTIBLE AND HYPOTHETICAL
PROPOSITIONS, AND THE LIKE

i. IT l is a secret to the vulgar, that the practice of convertible
and hypothetical and interrogatory arguments, and, in general,
of all other logical forms, hath any relation to the duties of life.
For in every subject of action, the question is, how a wise and
good man may find a way of extricating himself, and a method
of behaviour conformable to his duty upon the occasion. Let
them say, therefore, either that the man of virtue will not
engage in questions and answers; of that, if he doth, he will
not think it worth his care whether he behaves rashly and at
hazard in questioning and answering; or if they allow neither
of these, it is necessary to confess that some examination ought
to be made of those topics, in which the affair of question
and answer is principally concerned. For what is the pro-
fession of 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 reject the bad? This is not
enough. What must be added besides? That faculty which
tries and distinguishes what pieces are good, what bad.
Therefore, in reasoning too, what hath been already said is
not enough; but it is necessary that we should be able to
prove and distinguish between the true and the false and the
doubtful. It is necessary.

2. And what farther is professed in reasoning? To admit
the consequences of what you have properly granted. Well;
and here, too, is the mere knowing this enough? It is not;
but we must learn how such a thing is the consequence of such
another; and when one thing follows from one thing, and when
from many things in common. Is it not moreover necessary,
that he who would behave skilfully in reasoning, should both
himself demonstrate whatever he delivers, and be able to com-
prehend the demonstrations of others; and not be deceived by
such as sophisticate, as if they were demonstrating? Hence

1 8 The Discourses of Epictetus

then the employment and exercise of concluding arguments and
figures arises, and appears to be necessary.

3. But it may possibly happen, that from the premises
which we have properly granted, there arises some consequence,
which, though false, is nevertheless a consequence. What,
then, ought I to do ? To admit a falsehood ? And how is that
possible? Well; or to say that my concessions were not
properly made? But neither is this allowed. Or that the
consequence doth not arise from the premises? Nor is even
this allowed. What, then, is to be done in the case? Is it
not this? As the having once borrowed money is not enough
to make a person a debtor, unless he still continues to owe
money and hath not paid it: so the having granted the
premises is not enough to make it necessary to grant the
inference, unless we continue our concessions. If the premise s
continue to the end, such as they were when the concessions
were made, it is absolutely necessary to continue the con-
cessions, and to admit what follows from them. But if the
premises do not continue such as they were when the conces-
sion was made, it is absolutely necessary to depart from the
concession, and from admitting what doth not follow from the
argument itself. For this inference is no consequence of ours,
nor belongs to us, when we have departed from the concession
of the premises. We ought then to examine these kinds of
premises, and their changes and conversions, on which any one,
by laying hold, either in the question itself, or in the answer, or
in the syllogistical conclusion, or in any other thing of that sort,
gives an occasion to the unthinking of being disconcerted, not
foreseeing the consequences. Why so? That in this topic we
may not behave contrary to our duty, nor with confusion.

4. 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 for ever to abide by it?
Or is he sometimes to depart from it, and admit only conse-
quences, but not to admit contradictions? Ay; but a person
may say, on your admitting the hypothesis of a possibility, I
will drive you upon an impossibility. With such a one as this,
shall the man of prudence not engage, but avoid all examination
and conversation with him? And yet who, besides the man of
prudence, is capable of treating an argument, or who be -ides is

Imperfect Syllogisms 19

sagacious in questions and answers, and incapable of being
deceived and imposed on by sophistry? Or will he indeed
engage, but without regarding whether he behaves rashly and
at hazard, in the argument? Yet how then can he be such a
one as we are supposing him ? But, without some such exercise
and preparation, is it possible for him to preserve himself con-
sistent? Let them show this: and all these theorems will be
superfluous and absurd, and unconnected with our idea of the
virtuous man. Why then are we still indolent, and slothful,
and sluggish, seeking pretences of avoiding labour? Shall
we not be watchful to render reason itself accurate ? " But
suppose, after all, I should make a mistake in these points:
have I killed a father? " Wretch! why, in this case, where
had you a father to kill? What is it, then, that you have
done? 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 something that was
omitted in some syllogism. Why, said I, have I burnt the
Capitol then? W'retch! answered he, was the thing here
omitted the Capitol? Or are there no other faults, but burn-
ing the Capitol, or killing a father? And is it no fault to treat
the appearances presented to our minds rashly and vainly and
at hazard; not to comprehend a reason, nor a demonstration,
nor a sophism ; nor, in short, to see what is for or against one's
self in a question or answer ? Is nothing of all this any fault ?

CHAPTER VIII

THAT FACULTIES ARE NOT SAFE TO THE UNINSTRUCTED

i. IN as many ways as equivalent syllogisms may be varied,
hi so many may the forms of arguments and enthymemas be
varied likewise. As for instance: if you have 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
this skilfully, belongs to no one more than to a philosopher.
For if an enthymema be an imperfect syllogism, he who is
exercised in a perfect syllogism must be equally ready at an
imperfect one.

2o The Discourses of Epictetus

Why, then, do not we exercise ourselves and others after this
manner? l

Because even now, though we are not exercised in these
things, nor diverted by me, at least, from the study of morality:
yet we make no advances in virtue. What is to be expected
then if we should add this avocation too? Especially as it
would not only be an avocation from more necessary studies,
but likewise a capital occasion of conceit and insolence. For
the faculty of arguing and of persuasive reasoning is great;
and, particularly, if it be much laboured and receive an addi-
tional ornament from rhetoric. For in general every faculty is
dangerous to weak and uninstructed persons; as being apt to
render them arrogant and elated. For by what method can
one persuade a young man who excels in these kinds of study
that he ought not to be an appendix to them, but they to him?
Will he not trample upon all such advice; and walk about
elated and puffed up, not bearing any one should touch him, to
put him in mind where he is wanting and in what he goes
wrong.

What then, was not Plato a philosopher?

Well, and was not Hippocrates a physician? Yet you see
how he expresses himself. But is it in quality of physician,
then, that he expresses himself so? Why do you confound
things, accidently united from different causes, in the same
men? If Plato was handsome and well-made, must I too set
myself to endeavour at 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, if I 2 were a philosopher, would it be neces-
sary that you should be lame too ?

2. What then? Do I reject these faculties? By no means.
For neither do I reject the faculty of seeing. But if you ask
me, what is the good of man? I have nothing else to say to
you but that it is a certain regulation of the choice with regard
to the appearances of things.

A Citizen of the World 21

CHAPTER IX

HOW FROM THE DOCTRINE OF OUR KINDRED TO GOD WE
ARE TO PROCEED TO ITS CONSEQUENCES

i. IF what philosophers say of the kindred between God and
man be true, what has any one to do, but, like Socrates, wherr
he is asked what countryman he is, never to say that he is a
citizen of Athens, or of Corinth, but of the world? For why
do you say that you are of Athens : and not of that corner only
where that paltry body of yours was laid at its birth? Is it
not, evidently, from what is principal, and comprehends not
only that corner, and your whole house ; but the general extent
of the country from which your pedigree is derived down to you,
that you call yourself an Athenian, or a Corinthian? Why
may not he, then, who understands the administration of the
world; and has learned that the greatest and most principal
and comprehensive of all things is this system, composed of men
and God ; and that from him the seeds of being are descended,
not only to my father or grandfather, but to all things that are
produced and born on earth; and especially to rational natures,
as they alone are qualified to partake of a communication with
the deity, being connected with him by reason: why may not
such a one call himself a citizen of the world ? Why not a son
of God ? And why shall he fear anything that happens among
men? Shall kindred to Caesar, or any other of the great at
Rome, enable a man to live secure, above contempt, and void of
all fear whatever; and shall not the having God for our Maker,
and Father, and Guardian free us from griefs and terrors ?
2. " But how shall I subsist? For I have nothing."
Why, how do slaves, how do fugitives? To what do they
trust when they run away from their masters? Is it to their
estates? their servants? their plate? to nothing but them-
selves. Yet they do not fail to get necessaries. And must a
philosopher, think you, when he leaves his own abode, 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 there should be no
need for an old fellow to sit here contriving that you may not
think meanly, nor entertain low and abject notions of your-

22 The Discourses of Epictetus

selves; but that his business would be, to take care that there
may not happen to be among you young men of such a spirit,
that, knowing their affinity to the gods, and that we are as it
were fettered by the body and its possessions, and by so many
other things as are necessary, upon these accounts, for the
economy and commerce of life; they should resolve to throw
them off, as both troublesome and useless, and depart to their
kindred.

3. 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 paltry body, feeding and resting and cleaning it, and
hurried about with so many low cares on its account. Are not
these things indifferent, and nothing to us, and death no evil?
Are not we relations of 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 chain and
weigh us down. Here thieves and robbers, and courts of
judicature, and those who are called tyrants, seem to have some
power over us, on account of the body and its possessions.
Suffer us to show them, that they have no power."

4. 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 in 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 courts of judicature are formidable to those who thus
account the body and its possessions as nothing? Stay.
Depart not inconsiderately."

5. Thus ought the case to stand between a preceptor and
ingenuous young men. But how stands it now? The pre-
ceptor has no life in him: you have none neither. When you
have had enough to-day, you sit weeping about to-morrow,
how you shall get food. Why, if you have it, wretch, you will
have it: if not, you will go out of life. The door is open: why
do you lament? What room doth there remain for tears?
What occasion for flattery? Why should any one person envy
another? Why should he be struck with awful admiration of
those who have great possessions, or are placed in high rank?
Especially if they are powerful and passionate ? For what will
they do to us ? The things which they can do we do not regard :
the things which we are concerned about they cannot do. Who

Body and Soul 23

then, after a.i, shall command a person thus disposed? How
was Socrates affected by these things? As it became one per-
suaded of his being a relation of the gods. " If you should tell
me (says he to his judges), We will acquit you upon condition
that you shall no longer discourse in the manner you have
hitherto done, nor make any disturbance either among 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 if God hath assigned me any
station or method of life, that I ought to desert that for you." l

6. This it is for a man to be truly a relation of God. But
we consider ourselves as a mere assemblage of stomach and
entrails and bodily parts. Because we fear, because we desire,
we flatter those who can help us in these matters; we dread
the very same persons.

7. 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 afterwards stript 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: " I
wanted your assistance, not your pity; for no evil hath be-
fallen me/'

8* Thus Rufus to try me used to say, This or that you will
have from your master. When I answered him, These are
[uncertain] human affairs: Why then, says he, should I inter-
cede with him 3 when you can receive these things from your-
self? For what one hath of his own it is superfluous and vain
to receive from another. Shall I, then, who can receive great-
ness of soul 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 write letters
for him as if he was dead? " Pray oblige us with the corpse
and blood of such a one." For, in fact, such a one is corpse
and blood; and nothing more. For if he was anything more,
he would be sensible that one man is not rendered unfortunate
by another.

24 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER X

CONCERNING THOSE WHO STROVE FOR PREFERMENTS
AT ROME

i. IF we all applied ourselves as heartily to our proper busi-
ness as the old fellows at Rome do to their schemes; perhaps
we too might make some proficiency. I know a man older than
I am, and who is now superintendent of provisions 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 was got back, 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 ! " You will not do it, said I. When you are once
got within the smell of Rome, you will forget all this, and,
if you can but once gain admittance to court, you will go
in heartily rejoiced and thank God. " If you ever find me,
Epictetus," said he, " putting one foot into the court, think
of me whatever you please/' Now, after all, how did he act?
Before he entered the city he was met by a billet from Caesar.
On receiving it he forgot all his former resolutions, and has ever
since been heaping up one encumbrance upon another. I should
be glad now to have an opportunity of putting him in mind of
his discourse upon the road, and of saying, How much more
clever a prophet am I than you !

2. What then do I say? that man is made for an inactive
life? No, surely. " But why is not ours a life of activity? "
For my own part, as soon as it is day, I recollect a little what
things I am to read over again [with my pupils], and then say
to myself quickly, What is it to me how such a one reads? My
chief point is to get to sleep.

3. But, indeed, what likeness is there between the actions
of these [old fellows at Rome] 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 emoluments like these?
Is there any likeness, then, between reading such a petition
from any one as " I entreat you to give me a permission to
export corn; " and " I entreat you to learn from Chrysippus
of what nature the administration of the world is, and what

Of Natural Affection 25

place a reasonable creature holds in it. Learn, too, what you
yourself are, and wherein your good and evil consists." Are
these things at all alike? Do they require an equal degree of
application? And is it as shameful to neglect the one as the
other? l

4. Well, then, are we preceptors the only idle dreamers?
No ; but you young men are so first, in a greater degree. And
so even we old folks, when we see young ones trifling, are
tempted to grow fond of trifling with them. Much more, then,
if I was to see you active and diligent, I should be excited to
join with you in serious industry.

CHAPTER XI

OF NATURAL AFFECTION

i. WHEN one of the great men came to visit him, Epictetus,
having inquired into the particulars of his affairs, asked him
whether he had a wife and children? The other replying that
he had, Epictetus likewise inquired, In what manner do you live
with them ? Very miserably, says he. How so ? for men do not
marry and get children to be miserable; but rather to make
themselves happy. But I am so very miserable about my
children, that the other day, when my daughter was sick and
appeared to be in danger, I could not bear even to be with her,
but ran away, till it was told me that she was recovered. And
pray do you think this was acting right? It was acting natur-
ally, said he. Well: do but convince me that it was acting
naturally, and I will convince you that everything natural is
right. All or most of us fathers are affected in the same way.
I do not deny the fact, but the question between us is whether
it be right. For, by this way of reasoning, it must be said that
tumours happen for the good of the body, because they do
happen: and even that vices are natural, because all or the
most part of us are guilty of them. Do you show me, then,
how such a behaviour as yours appears to be natural.

I cannot undertake that. But do you rather show me how
it appears to be neither natural nor right.

If we were disputing about black and white, what criterion
must we call in to distinguish them?

The sight.

26 The Discourses of Epictetus

If about hot and cold, and hard and soft, what?

The touch.

Well then, when we are debating about natural and un-
natural, and right and wrong, what criterion are we to take?

I cannot tell.

And yet, to be ignorant of a criterion of colours, or of smells,
or tastes, might perhaps be no very great loss. But do you
think that he suffers only a small loss who is ignorant of what is
good and evil, and natural and unnatural, to man ?

No. The very greatest.

Well, tell me: Are all things which are judged good and
proper by some, rightly judged to be so? It is possible that
the several opinions of Jews and Syrians and Egyptians and
Romans concerning food should all be right?

How can it be possible ?

I suppose, then, it is absolutely necessary, if the opinions of
the Egyptians be right, the others must be wrong: if those of
the Jews be good, all the rest must be bad.

How can it be otherwise ?

And where ignorance is, there likewise is want of learning and
instruction in necessary points.

It is granted.

Then, as you are sensible of this, you will for the future apply
to no tiling, and think of nothing else, but how to acquaint
yourself with the criterion of what is agreeable to nature, and
to use that in judging of each particular case.

2. At present the assistance I have to give you towards
what you desire is this: Doth affection seem to you to be a
right and a natural tiling ? l

How should it be otherwise ?

Well; and is affection natural and right, and reason not so?

By no means.

Is there any opposition, then, between reason and affection ?

I think not.

If there was, of two opposites if one be natural, the other
must necessarily be unnatural, must it not?

It must.

What we find, then, at once affectionate and reasonable,
that we may safely pronounce to be right and good.

Agreed.

Well, then, you will not dispute but that to run away and
leave a sick child is contrary to reason. It remains for us to
consider whether it be consistent with affection.

Of Natural Affection 27

Let us consider it.

Did you, then, from an affection to your child, do right in
running away and leaving her? Hath her mother no affection
for the child ?

Yes; surely she hath.

Would it have been right, then, that her mother too should
leave her, or would it not ?

It would not.

And doth not her nurse love her?

She doth.

Then ought not she likewise to leave her?

By no means.

And doth not her preceptor love her ?

He doth.

Then ought not he also to have run away, and left her; and
so the child to have been left alone, and unassisted, from the
great affection of her parents, and her friends ; or to die in the
hands of people who neither loved her nor took care of her?

Heaven forbid !

But is it not unreasonable and unjust, that what you think
right in yourself, on the account of your affection, should not
be allowed to others, who have the very same affection as you ?

It is absurd.

Pray, if you were sick yourself, should you be willing to have
your family, and even your wife and children, so very affec-
tionate as to leave you helpless and alone ?

By no means.

Or would you wish to be so loved by your friends, as from
their excessive affection always to be left alone when you were
sick ? Or would you not rather wish, if it were possible, to have
such a kind of affection from your enemies as to make them
always keep from you ? If so, it remains that your behaviour
was by no means affectionate. Well then: was it merely
nothing that induced you to desert your child ?

How is that possible?

No; but it was some such motive as induced a person at
Rome to hide his face while a horse was running to which he
earnestly wished success; and when, beyond his expectation,
it won the race, he was obliged to have recourse to sponges to
recover his senses.

And what was this motive ?

At present perhaps it cannot be accurately explained. It is
sufficient to be convinced (if what philosophers say be true)

2 8 The Discourses of Epictetus

that we are not to seek it from without; but that there is uni-
versally one and the same cause, which moves us to do or for-
bear any action; to speak or not to speak; to be elated or
depressed; to avoid or pursue; that very cause which hath
now moved us two; you, to come and sit and hear me; and me
to speak as I do.

And what is that?

Is it anything else than that it seemed right to us to do so ?

Nothing else.

And if it had seemed otherwise to us, what should we have
done else than what we thought right? This, and not the death
of Patroclus, was the cause of lamentation to Achilles (for every
man is not thus affected by the death of a friend), that it seemed
right to him. This too was the cause of your running away
from your child, that it seemed right; and if hereafter you
should stay with her it will be because that seemed right. You
are now returning to Rome because it seems right to you; but
if you should alter your opinion you will not return. In a word,
neither death nor exile, nor pain, nor anything of this kind is
the cause of our doing, or not doing, any action; but our
opinions and principles. Do I convince you of this, or not?

You do.

3. Well then; such as the cause is, such will be the effect.
From this day forward, then, whenever we do anything wrong
we will impute it only to the principle from which we act; and
we will endeavour to remove that, and cut it up by the roots,
with greater care than we would wens and tumours from the
body. In like manner, we will ascribe what we do right to the
same cause; and we will accuse neither servant, nor neighbour,
nor wife, nor children as the causes of any evils to us; per-
suaded that if we had not such principles, such consequences
would not follow. Of these principles we ourselves, and not
externals, are the masters.

Agreed.

From this day, then, we will neither consider nor inquire of
what sort, or in what condition, anything is; our estate, or
slaves, or horses, or dogs, but only our principles.

I wish to do it.

You see, then, that it is necessary for you to become a scholar:
that kind of animal which every one laughs at; if you really
desire to make an examination of your principles. But this,
as you are sensible, is not the work of an hour or a day.

Of Contentment 29

CHAPTER XII

OF CONTENTMENT

i. CONCERNING the gods, some affirm that there is no deity:
others, that he indeed exists ; but slothful, negligent, and with-
out a providence: a third sort admits both his being and
providence, but only in great and heavenly objects, and in
nothing upon earth: a fourth, both in heaven and earth; but
only in general, not individuals: a fifth, like Ulysses and
Socrates : l

" O thou, who, ever present in my way,
Dost all my motions, all my toils survey."

POPE'S Homer.

It is, before all things, necessary to examine each of these;
which is, and which is not, rightly said. Now, if there are no
gods, how is it our end to follow them ? If there are, but they
take no care of anything, how will it be right, in this case, to
follow them ? Or, if they both are, and take care ; yet, if there
is nothing communicated from them to men, nor indeed to
myself in particular, how can it be right even in this case? A
wise and good man, after examining these things, submits his
mind to him who administers the whole, as good citizens do to
the laws of the commonwealth.

2. He, then, who comes to be instructed, ought to come with
this intention: " Now may I in everything follow the gods?
How may I acquiesce in the divine administration ? And how
may I be free? " For he is free to whom all happens agreeably
to his choice, and whom no one can restrain.

What 1 then is freedom distraction ?

By no means; for madness and freedom are incompatible.

But I would have whatever appears to me to be right, happen,
however it comes to appear so.

You are mad : you have lost your senses. Do not you know
that freedom is a very beautiful and valuable thing? But for
me to choose at random, and for things to happen agreeably
to such a choice, may be so far from a beautiful thing as to be,
of all others, the most shocking. For how do we proceed in
writing? Do I choose to write the name of Dion (for instance)
as I will? No; but I am taught to be willing to write it as it
ought to be writ. And what is the case in music? The same.

30 The Discourses of Epictetus

And what in every other art or science? Otherwise, it would
be to no purpose to learn anything, if it was to be adapted to
each one's particular humour. Is it, then, only in the greatest
and principal point, that of freedom, permitted me to will at
random? By no means, but true instruction is this* learning
to will that things should happen as they do. And how do they
happen? As the appointer of them hath appointed. He hath
appointed that there should be summer and winter, plenty and
dearth, virtue and vice, and all such contrarieties, for the
harmony of the whole. 2 To each of us he hath given a body
and its parts, and our several properties and companions.
Mindful of this appointment, we should enter upon a course of
education and instruction not to change the constitutions of
things, which is neither put within our reach nor for our good ;
but that, being as they are, and as their nature is with regard
to us, we may have our mind accommodated to what exists.
Can we, for instance, fly mankind? And how is that possible?
Can we, by conversing with them, change them? Who hath
given us such a power? What, then, remains, or what method
is there to be found for such a commerce with them, that while
they act agreeably to the appearances in their own minds, we
may nevertheless be affected conformably to nature? But
you are wretched and discontented. If you are alone, you
term it a desert; and if with men, you call them cheats and
robbers. You find fault, too, with you parents and children and
brothers and neighbours. Whereas you ought, when you live
alone, to call that a repose and freedom, and to esteem yourself
as resembling the gods; and when you are in company, not to
call it a crowd and a tumult and a trouble, but an assembly and
a festival; and thus to take all things contentedly. What,
then, is the punishment of those who do not? To be just as
they are. Is any one discontented with being alone? Let him
be in a desert. 3 Discontented with his parents? Let him be
a bad son, and let him mourn. Discontented with his children ?
Let him be a bad father. Throw him into prison. What
prison? Where he already is; for he is in a situation against
his will, and wherever any one is against his will, that is to him
a prison; just as Socrates was not in prison, for he was willingly
there. " What, then, must my leg be lame? " And is it for
one paltry leg, wretch, that you accuse the world ? Why will
you not give it op to the whole? Why will you not withdraw
yourself from it? Why will you not gladly yield it to him
who gave it? And will you be angry and discontented with

For What We Arc Accountable 3 1

the decrees of Jupiter, which he, with the Fates who spun
in his presence the thread of your birth, ordained and ap-
pointed? Do you not know how very small a part you are
of the whole? That is, as to body; for as to reason you are
neither worse, nor less, than the gods. For reason is not
measured by length or height, but by principles. Will you not
therefore place your good there, where you are equal to the
gods? 4 " How wretched am I in such a father and mother! "
What, then, was it granted you to come beforehand, and make
your own terms, and say: " Let such and such persons, at this
hour, be the authors of my birth? " It was not granted; for
it was necessary that your parents should exist before you, and
so you be born afterwards. Of whom? Of just such as they
were. What, then, since they are such, is there no remedy
afforded you ? Now, surely, if you were ignorant to what pur-
pose you possess the faculty of sight, you would be wretched
and miserable in shutting your eyes at the approach of colours,
and are not you more wretched and miserable in being ignorant
that you have a greatness of soul and a manly spirit, answerable
to each of the above-mentioned accidents? Occurrences pro-
portioned to your faculty [of discernment] are brought before
you; but you turn it away at the very time when you ought to
have it the most open and quick-sighted. Why do not you
rather thank the gods that they have made you superior to
whatever they have not placed in your own power, and have
rendered you accountable for that only which is in your own
power? Of your parents they acquit you; as not accountable
of your brothers they acquit you; of body, possessions, death,
life, they acquit you. For what, then, have they made you
accountable? For that which is alone in your own power, a
right use of the appearances of objects. Why, then, should you
draw those things upon yourself for which you are not account-
able? This is giving one's self trouble without need.

32 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XIII

HOW EVERYTHING MAY BE PERFORMED ACCEPTABLY
TO THE GODS

WHEN a person inquired, how any one might eat acceptably to
the gods: If he eats with justice, says Epictetus, and gratitude,
and fairly and temperately and decently, must he not also eat
acceptably to the gods ? And when you call for hot water, and
your servant doth not hear you, or, if he doth, brings it only
warm; or perhaps is not to be found at home; then not to be
angry, or burst with passion, is not this acceptable to the gods?

But how, then, can one bear such things?

Wretch, will you not bear with your own brother, who hath
God for his father, as being a son from the same stock, and of
the same high descent? But if you chance to be placed in some
superior station, will you presently set yourself up for a tyrant ?
Will you not remember what you are, and over whom you bear
rule? That they are by nature your relations, your brothers;
that they are the offspring of God? l

But I have them by right of purchase, and not they me.

Do you see what it is you regard ? That it is earth and mire,
and these wretched laws of dead a men, and that you do not
regard those of the gods.

CHAPTER XIV

THAT ALL THINGS ARE UNDER THE DIVINE INSPECTION

i. WHEN a person asked him, how any one might be con-
vinced that each of his actions are under the inspection of God :
Do not you think, says Epictetus, that all things are mutually
bound together and united?

I do.

Well; and do not you think that things on earth feel the
influence of the heavenly bodies ?

Yes.

Else how could the trees so regularly, as if by God's express

Heavenly Influences 33

command, bud, 1 blossom, bring forth fruit, and ripen it; then
let it drop, and shed their leaves, and lie contracted within
themselves in quiet and repose, all when he speaks the word?
Whence, again, are there seen, on the increase and decrease of
the moon, and the approach and departure of the sun, so great
vicissitudes and changes to the direct contrary in earthly things ?
Have then the very leaves, and our own bodies, this connection
and sympathy with the whole, and have not our souls much
more? But our souls are thus connected and intimately joined
to God, as being indeed members and distinct portions of his
essence; and must not he be sensible of every movement of
them as belonging, and connatural to himself? Can even you
think of the divine administration, and every other divine
subject, and, together with these, of human affairs also: can
you at once receive impressions on your senses and your under-
standing from a thousand objects; at once assent to some
things, deny or suspend your judgment concerning others, and
preserve in your mind impressions from so many and various
objects, and whenever you are moved by [the traces of] them,
hit on ideas similar to those which first impressed you : can you
retain a variety of arts, and the memorials of ten thousand
things, and is not God capable of surveying all things, and being
present with all, and receiving a certain communication from
all? Is the sun capable of illuminating so great a portion of the
universe, and of leaving only that small part of it unilluminated
which is covered by the shadow of the earth; and cannot he who
made and revolves the sun, a small part of himself if compared
with the whole, cannot he perceive all things ?

2. " But I cannot " (say you) " attend to all things at once."
Why, doth any one tell you that you have equal power with
Jupiter? No! but nevertheless he has assigned to each man
a director, his own good genius, and committed him to his
guardianship ; a director whose vigilance no slumbers interrupt,
and whom no false reasonings can deceive. For to what better
and more careful guardian could he have committed us? So
that when you have shut your doors, and darkened your room,
remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not; but
God is within, and your genius is within, and what need have
they of light to see what you are doing? To 2 this God you
likewise ought to swear such an oath as the soldiers do to Caesar.
For do they, in order to receive their pay, swear to prefer before
all things the safety of Caesar, and will not you swear, who have
received so many and so great favours, or if you have sworn,

34 The Discourses of Epictetus

will you not stand to it? And what must you swear? Never
to disobey, nor accuse, nor murmur at any of the things
appointed by him, nor unwillingly to do or suffer anything
necessary. Is this oath like the former? In the first, persons
swear not to honour any other beyond Caesar; in the last,
beyond all, to honour themselves.

CHAPTER XV

WHAT IT IS THAT PHILOSOPHY PROMISES

i. WHEN one consulted him, how he might persuade his
brother to forbear treating him ill: Philosophy, answered
Epictetus, doth not promise to procure anything external to
man, otherwise it would admit something beyond its proper
subject-matter. For the subject-matter of a carpenter is wood;
of a statuary, brass: and so of the art of living, the subject-
matter is each person's own life.

What, then, is my brother's?

That, again, belongs to his own art [of living] ; but to yours
is external like an estate, like health, like reputation. Now,
philosophy promises none of these. In every circumstance 1
will preserve the governing part conformable to nature. Whose
governing part? His in whom I exist.

But how, then, is my brother to lay aside his anger against
me?

Bring him to me, and I will tell him ; but I have nothing to say
to you about his anger.

2. Well, but I still farther ask, How am I to keep myself in a
state of mind conformable to nature though he should not be
reconciled to me?

No great thing is brought to perfection suddenly, when not so
much as a bunch of grapes or a fig is. If you tell me that you
would at this minute have a fig, I will answer you, that there
must be time. Let it first 1 blossom, then bear fruit, then
ripen. Is then the fruit of a fig-tree not brought to perfection
suddenly, and in one hour; and would you possess the fruit of
the human mind in so short a time, and without trouble? I
tell you, expect no such thing.

Nature's Providence 35

CHAPTER XVI

OF PROVIDENCE

i. BE not surprised, if other animals have all things necessary
> the body ready provided for them, not only meat and drink
at lodging: that they want neither shoes, nor bedding, nor
othes, while we stand in need of all these. For they not
sing made for themselves, but for service, it was not fit that
ley should be formed so as to need the help of others. For,
msider what it would be for us to take care, not only for our-
;lves, but for sheep and asses too, how they should be clothed,
QW shod, and how they should eat and drink. But as soldiers
re ready for their commander, shod, clothed, and armed (for

would be a grievous thing for a colonel to be obliged to go
irough his regiment to put on their shoes and clothes), so
ature likewise has formed the animals made for service, ready
rovided, and standing in need of no further care. Thus one
ttle boy, with only a crook, drives a flock.

2. But now we, instead of being thankful for this, complain
f God that there is not the same kind of care taken of us like-
ise. And yet, good heaven 1 any one thing in the creation is
ifficient to demonstrate a providence to a modest and grateful
lind. Not to instance at present in great things, but only in
tie very production of milk from grass, cheese from milk, and
r ool from skins: who formed and contrived these things?
Fo one, say you. surprising stupidity, and want of shame !
>ut come, let us omit the works of nature. Let us con tern-
late what she hath done, as it were, by the bye. What is
lore useless than the hairs which grow on the chin? And yet,
ath she not made use even of these in the most becoming
lanner possibly? Hath she not by these distinguished the
exes? Doth not nature in each of us call out, even at a dis-
ance, I am a man; approach and address me as such; inquire
L o farther; see the characteristic. On the other hand, with
egard to women, as she hath mixed something softer in their
oice, so she hath deprived them of a beard. But no, to be sure,
he animal should have been left undistinguished, and each of
is obliged to proclaim, I am a man ! But why is not this char-
.cteristic beautiful and becoming and venerable? How much
nore beautiful than the comb of cocks; how much more noble

36 The Discourses of Epictetus

than the mane of lions ! Therefore, we ought to have preserved
the divine characteristics; we ought not to have rejected them,
nor confounded, as much as in us lay, the distinct sexes.

3. Are these the only works of providence, with regard to
us . . - 1 And what words can proportionally express our
applauses and praise? For, if we had any understanding,
ought we not both, in public and in private, incessantly to sing
hymns, and speak well of the Deity, and rehearse his benefits ?
Ought we not, whether we are digging, or ploughing, or eating,
to sing the hymn to God? Great is God, who has supplied us
with these instruments to till the ground : great is God, who has
given us hands, a power of swallowing, a stomach; who has
given us to grow insensibly, to breathe in sleep. Even these
things we ought upon every occasion to celebrate; but to make
it the subject of the greatest and most divine hymn, that he has
given us the faculty of apprehending them, and using them in a
proper way. Well then: because the most of you are blind
and insensible, was it not necessary that there should be some
one to fill this station, and give out, for all men, the hymn to
God ? For what else can I, a lame old man, do but sing hymns
to God? If I was a nightingale, I would act the part of a
nightingale: if a swan, 2 the part of a swan. But, since I am
a reasonable creature, it is my duty to praise God. This is my
business. I do it. Nor will I ever desert this post as long as
it is vouchsafed me; and I exhort you to join in the same song. 3

CHAPTER XVII

THAT THE ART OF REASONING IS NECESSARY

i. SINCE it is reason which sets in order and finishes all other
things, it ought not itself to be left in disorder. But by what
shall it be set in order ?

Evidently either by itself, or by something else.

Well: either that too is reason, or there is something else
superior to reason (which is impossible): and if it be reason,
what, again, shall set that in order? For, if reason can set
itself in order in one case, it can in another; and, if we will still
require anything further, it will be infinite and without end.

But the more urgent necessity is to cure [our opinions,
passions] and the like. 1

To Interpret the Will of Nature 37

Would you hear about these, therefore? Well, hear. But
then, if you should say to me, ' I cannot tell whether your argu-
ments are true or false ' ; and if I should happen to express
myself doubtfully, and you should say, " Distinguish/' I will
bear with you no longer; but will retort your own words upon
you, " The more urgent necessity is/' etc. Therefore, I sup-
pose, the art of reasoning is first settled; just as, before the
measuring of corn, we settle the measure. For, unless we first
determine what a bushel and what a balance is, how shall we
be able to measure or weigh? Thus, in the present case, unless
we have first learnt and accurately examined that which is the
criterion of other things, and by which other things are learnt,
how shall we be able accurately to learn anything else? And
how is it possible? Well, a bushel, however, is only wood, a
thing of no value in itself; but it measures corn. And logic
(you say) is of no value in itself. That we will consider here-
after. Let us, for the present, Ihon, mak.e the concession. It
is enough that it distinguishes and exam-n^s, and, as one may
say, measures and weighs all other things. Who says this?
Is it only Chrysippus and Zeno and Cleanthes ? And doth not
Antisthenes say it? And who is it, then, who has written that
the beginning of a right education is the examination of words ?
Doth not Socrates say it? Of whom, then, doth Xenophon
write, that he began by the examination of words, what each
signified ? 2

2. Is this, then, the great and admirable thing, to understand
or interpret Chrysippus?

Who says that it is ? But what, then, is the admirable thing ?

To understand the will of nature.

Well, then, do you apprehend it of yourself? In that case,
what need have you for any one else ? For, if it be true, that
men never err but involuntarily, and you have learnt the truth,
you must necessarily act right.

But, indeed, I do not apprehend the will of nature.

Who, then, shall interpret that?

They say Chrysippus. 3 I go and inquire what this inter-
preter of nature says. I begin not to understand his meaning.
I seek one to interpret that. Here explain how this is ex-
pressed, and as if it were put into Latin. How, then, doth a
supercilious self-opinion belong to the interpreter?

Indeed, it doth not justly belong to Chrysippus himself, if he
only interprets the will of nature, and doth not follow it; and
much less to his interpreter. For we have no need of Chrysippus
C44

j8 The Discourses of Epictetus

on his own account, but that by his means we may apprehend
the will of nature ; nor do we need a diviner on his own account,
but that by his assistance we hope to understand future events,
and what is signified by the gods; nor the entrails of the victims
on their own account, but on the account of what is signified by
them; neither is it the raven or the crow that we admire, but
the god who delivers his significations by their means. I come,
therefore, to the diviner and interpreter of these things, and
say, " Inspect the entrails for me: what is signified to me? "
Having taken and laid them open, he thus interprets them :
You have a choice, man, incapable of being restrained or com-
pelled. This is written here in the entrails. I will show you
this first in the faculty of assent. Can any one restrain you
from assenting to truth? "No one." Can any one compel
you to admit a falsehood ? " No one." You see, then, that you
have in this topic a choice incapable of being restrained or com-
pelled or hindered. < Well, is it any otherwise with regard to
pursuit and desire?' What can conquer one pursuit? " Another
'i^ifsuit/' What desire and aversion? "Another desire and
another aversion." If you set death before me (say you) you
compel me. No; not what is set before you doth it, but your
principle, that it is better to do such or such a thing than to
die. Here, again, you see it is your own principle which compels
you that is, choice compels choice. For, if God had con-
stituted that portion which he hath separated from his own
offence and given to us, capable of being restrained or com-
pelled, either by himself or by any other, he would not have
been God, nor have taken care of us in a due manner.

3. These things, says the diviner, I find in the victims.
These things are signified to you. If you please, you are free.
If you please, you will have no one to complain of, no one to
accuse. All will be equally according to your own mind, and
to the mind of God.

4. For the sake of this oracle I go to the diviner and the
philosopher, admiring not him merely on the account of his
interpretation, but the things which he interprets.

Philosophic Calm 39

CHAPTER XVIII

THAT WE ARE NOT TO BE ANGRY WITH THE ERRORS OF
OTHERS

i. 1 IF what the philosophers say be true, that all men's actions
proceed from one source; that, as they assent, from a per-
suasion that a thing is so, and dissent, from a persuasion that
it is not, and suspend their judgment, from a persuasion that it
is uncertain; so, likewise, they exert their pursuits, from a
persuasion that such a thing is for their advantage; and it is
impossible to esteem one thing advantageous, and desire another;
to esteem one thing a duty, and pursue another: why, after all,
should we be angry at the multitude ?

They are thieves and pilferers.

What do you mean by thieves and pilferers? They are in an
error concerning good and evil. Ought you, then, to be angry,
or to pity them? Do but show them their error, and you will
see that they will amend their faults ; but, if they do not see it,
the principles they form are to them their supreme rule.

What, then, ought not this thief and this adulterer to be
destroyed?

By no means [ask that]; but say rather, 2 " Ought not he to be
destroyed who errs and is deceived in things of the greatest
importance; blinded, not in the sight that distinguishes white
from black, but in the judgment that distinguishes good from
evil? " By stating your question thus you see how inhuman
it is, and just as if you would say, " Ought not this blind, or
that deaf, man to be destroyed? " For, if the greatest hurt
be a deprivation of the most valuable things, and the most
valuable thing to every one is a right judgment in choosing;
when any one is deprived of this, why, after all, are you angry?
You ought not to be affected, man, contrary to nature, by the
ills of another. Pity 3 him rather. Do not be angry; nor say,
as many do, What! shall these execrable and odious wretches
dare to act thus ? Whence have you so suddenly learnt wisdom ?
Because we admire those things which such people take from
us. Do not admire your clothes, and you will not be angry with
the thief. Do not admire the beauty of your wife, and you will
not be angry with an adulterer. Know that a thief and an
adulterer have no place in the things that are properly your own;

40 The Discourses of Epictetus

but in those that belong to others, and which are not in your
power. If you give up these things, and look upon them as ,
nothing, with whom will you any longer be angry ? But while '
you admire them, be angry with yourself rather than with
others. Consider only: You have a fine suit of clothes, your
neighbour has not. You have a window, you want to air
them. He knows not in what the good of man consists, but
imagines it is in a fine suit of clothes; the very thing which you
imagine too. Must not he, then, of course, come and take
them away? When you show a cake to greedy people, and
are devouring it all yourself, would not you have them snatch
it from you? Do not provoke them. Do not have a window.
Do not air your clothes. I, too, the other day, had an iron
lamp burning before my household deities. Hearing a noise
at the window, I ran. I found my lamp was stolen. I con-
sidered, that he who took it away did nothing unaccountable.
What then? To-morrow, says I, you shall find an earthen one;
for a man loses only what he hath. I have lost my coat. Ay,
because you had a coat. I have a pain in my head. Why,
can you have a pain in your horns ? 4 Why, then, are you out
of humour? For loss and pain can be only of such things as
are possessed.

2. But the tyrant will chain what? A leg. He will take
away what? A head. What is there, then, that he can
neither chain nor take away? The will and choice. Hence
the advice of the ancients Know thyself.

What ought to be done, then?

Exercise yourself, for heaven's sake, in little things; and
thence proceed to greater. " I have a pain in my head." Do
not cry, Alas ! " I have a pain in my ear." Do not cry. Alas !
I do not say you may not groan, but dp not groan inwardly; or,
if your servant is a long while in bringing you something to bind
your head, do not bawl and distort yourself, and say, " Every-
body hates me." For who would not hate such a one?

3. Relying for the future on these principles, walk upright
and free; not trusting to bulk of body like a wrestler: for one
should not be unconquerable in the sense that an ass is.

Who then is unconquerable ? He whom nothing, independent
on choice, disconcerts. Then I run over every circumstance and
consider (say) of an athletic champion, He has been victorious
in the first encounter: what will he do in the second? What if
the heat should be excessive? What if he were to appear at
Olympia? So I say in this case. What if you throw money

What the Tyrant Can Do 41

in his way? He will despise it. What, if a girl? What, if in
the dark? What, if he be tried by popular fame, calumny,
praise, death? He is able to overcome them all. What then,
if he be placed in the heat, or in the rain ? 5 What if he be
hypochondriac, or asleep? [Just the same.] This is my un-
conquerable athletic champion.

CHAPTER XIX

OF THE BEHAVIOUR TO BE OBSERVED TOWARDS TYRANTS

i. WHEN a person is possessed of some either real or imagined
superiority, unless he hath been well instructed, he will neces-
sarily be puffed up with it. A tyrant, for instance, says: " I
am supreme over all." And what can you do for me? Can
you exempt my desires from disappointment? How should
you? For do you never incur your own aversions? Are your
own pursuits infallible? Whence should you come by that
privilege? Pray, on shipboard, do you trust to yourself, or to
the pilot? In a chariot, to whom but the driver? And to
whom in all other arts? Just the same. In what then, doth
your power consist? " All men pay regard to me."

So do I to my desk. I wash it and wipe it; and drive a nail
for the service of my oil flask. " What then, are these things
to be valued beyond me ? " No : but they are of some use to me,
and therefore I pay regard to them. Why, do not I pay regard
to an ass? Do not I wash his feet? Do not I clean him ? Do
not you know that every one pays regard to himself, and to
you, just as he doth to an ass? For who pays regard to you as
a man? Show that. Who would wish to be like you? Who
would desire to imitate you, as he would Socrates? " But I
can take off your head." You say right. I had forgot that one
is to pay regard to you as to a fever or the colic, and that there
should be an altar erected to you, as there is to the goddess
Fever at Rome.

2. What is it, then, that disturbs and strikes terror into the
multitude? The tyrant and his guards? By no means.
What is by nature free, cannot be disturbed or restrained by
anything but itself. But its own principles disturb it. Thus,
when the tyrant says to any one: " I will chain your leg":
he who values his leg, cries out for pity : while he who sets the

42 The Discourses of Epictetus

value on his own will and choice, says: " If you imagine it for
your interest, chain it." " What! do not you care?" No;
I do not care. " I will show you that I am master." You?
How should you? Jupiter has set me free. What! do you
think he would suffer his own son to be enslaved? You are
master of my carcase. Take it. " So that when you come into
my presence, you pay no regard to me? " No; but to myself;
or, if you will have me say, to you also: I tell you; the same to
you as to a pipkin. This is not selfish vanity; for every animal
is so constituted as to do everything for its own sake. Even
the sun doth all for his own sake: nay, and to name no more,
even Jupiter himself. But when he would be styled the Dis-
penser of Rain and Plenty, and the Father of Gods and Men,
you see that he cannot attain these offices and titles unless he
contributes to the common utility. And he hath universally so
constituted the nature of every reasonable creature, that no
one can attain any of its own proper advantages without con-
tributing something to the use of society. And thus it becomes
not unsociable to do everything for one's own sake. For, do
you expect that a man should desert himself and his own
interest? How, then, can all beings have one and the same
original instinct, attachment to themselves? What follows,
then? That where those absurd principles concerning things
dependent on choice, as if they were either good or evil, are at
the bottom, there must necessarily be a regard paid to tyrants :
and I wish it were to tyrants only, and not to the very officers of
their bed-chamber too. And how wise doth a man grow on a
sudden when Caesar has made him Clerk of the Close-stool!
How immediately we say, " Felicio talked very sensibly to me ! "
I wish he were turned out of the bed-chamber, that he might
once more appear to you the fool he is.

3. Epaphroditus had [a slave, that was] a shoemaker;
whom, because he was good for nothing, he sold. This very
fellow being, by some strange luck, bought by a courtier, be-
came shoemaker to Caesar. Then you might have seen how
Epaphroditus honoured him. " How doth good Felicio do,
pray? " And if any of us asked what the great man himself
was about, it was answered : " He is consulting about affairs with
Felicio." Did not he sell him as good for nothing? Who,
then, hath all on a sudden made a wise man of him? This it
is to honour anything besides what depends on choice.

4. Is any one exalted to the office of tribune? All that
meet him congratulate him. One kisses his eyes, another his

What is Reason? 43

neck, and the slaves his hands. He goes to his house; finds
it illuminated. He ascends the Capitol. Offers a sacrifice.
Now, who ever offered a sacrifice for having good desires?
For exerting pursuits conformable to nature ? For we thank
the gods for that wherein we place our good.

5. A person was talking with me to-day about the priest-
hood l of Augustus. I say to him, Let the thing alone, friend:
you will be at great expense for nothing. " But my name," says
he, " will be written in the annals." Will you stand by, then,
and tell those who read them, " I am the person whose name is
written there " ? But, if you could tell every one so now, what
will you do when you are dead? " My name will remain."
Write it upon a stone and it will remain just as well. But, pray,
what remembrance will there be of you out of Nicopolis? " But
I shall wear a crown 2 of gold." If your heart is quite set upon
a crown, take and put on one of roses, for it will make the
prettier appearance.

CHAPTER XX

IN WHAT MANNER REASON CONTEMPLATES ITSELF

EVERY art and every faculty contemplates some things as its
principal objects. Whenever, therefore, it is of the same nature
with the objects of its contemplations, it necessarily contem-
plates itself too. But where it is of a different nature, it cannot
contemplate itself. The art of shoemaking, for instance, is
exercised upon leather, but is itself entirely distinct from the
materials it works upon; therefore it doth not contemplate itself.
Again, grammar is exercised on articulate speech. Is the art
of grammar itself, then, articulate speech?

By no means.

Therefore it cannot contemplate itself. To what purpose,
then, is reason appointed by nature ?

To a proper use of the appearances of things.

And what is reason?

A composition of certain appearances to the mind: and, thus,
by its nature, it becomes contemplative of itself too. Again,
what subjects of contemplation belong to prudence?

Good, and evil, and indifferent.

44 The Discourses of Epictetus

What, then, is prudence itself?

Good.

What, imprudence?

Evil.

You see, then, that it necessarily contemplates both itself and
its contrary. Therefore the first and greatest work of a philo-
sopher is to try and distinguish the appearances, and to admit
none untried. Even in money, where our interest seems to be
concerned, you see what an art we have invented, and how many
ways an assayer uses to try its value. By the sight, the touch,
the smell, and lastly, the hearing. He throws the piece down,
and attends to the jingle; and is not contented with its jingling
only once; but, by frequent attention to it, becomes quite
musical. In the same manner, whenever we think it of conse-
quence whether we are deceived or not, we use the utmost atten-
tion to distinguish those things which may possibly deceive us.
But, yawning and slumbering over the poor miserable ruling
faculty, we admit every appearance that offers. For here the
mischief doth not strike us. When you would know, then, how
very languidly you are affected by good and evil, and how
vehemently by things indifferent; consider how you are affected
with regard to being blinded, and how with regard to being
deceived, and you will find that you are far from being moved,
as you ought, in relation to good and evil.

But much previous qualification, and much labour and
learning, are wanted.

What then? Do you expect the greatest of arts is to be
acquired by slight endeavours ? And yet the principal doctrine
of the philosophers, of itself, is short. If you have a mind to
know it, read Zeno, and you will see. 1 For what prolixity is
there in saying. Our end is to follow the gods ; and, The essence of
good consists in the proper use of the appearances of things?
Indeed, if you say, What, then, is God? What is an appear-
ance? What is particular, what universal nature? here the
affair becomes prolix. And so, if Epicurus should come and
say, that good must be placed in body; here, too, it will be
prolix: and it will be necessary to hear what is the principal,
the substantial and essential part in us. It is unlikely that the
good of a snail should be placed in the shell: and is it likely that
the good of a man should? You yourself, Epicurus, have
something superior to this. What is that in you which
deliberates, which examines, which forms the judgment
concerning body itself, that it is the principal part? And why

Application of Principles 45

do you light your lamp, and labour for us, and write so many
books ? That we may not be ignorant of the truth ? What are
we ? What are we to you ? Thus the doctrine becomes prolix.

CHAPTER XXI

OF THE DESIRE OF ADMIRATION

WHEN a person maintains his proper station in life, he doth not
gape after externals. What would you have, man ?

" I am contented if my desires and aversions are conformable
to nature: if I manage my powers of pursuit and avoidance,
my purposes and intentions and assent, in the manner I was
formed to do."

Why, then, do you walk as if you had swallowed a spit?

" I could wish, moreover, to have all who meet me admire me,
and all who follow me cry out, What a great philosopher! "

Who are those by whom you would be admired? Are they
not the very people who you used to say were mad? What,
then, would you be admired by madmen?

CHAPTER XXII

OF PRE - CONCEPTIONS

i. PRE-CONCEPTIONS 1 are common to all men; and one pre-
conception doth not contradict another. For, who of us doth
not lay it down as a maxim, that good is advantageous and
eligible, and at all events to be pursued and followed; that
justice is fair and becoming? Whence, then, arises the dispute?
In adapting these pre-conceptions to particular cases. As
when one cries: " Such a person hath acted well, he is a gallant
man "; and another: " No, he hath acted like a fool." Hence
arises the dispute among men. This is the dispute between Jews
and Syrians and Egyptians and Romans, not whether sanctity
be preferable to all things, and in every instance to be pursued;
but whether the eating swine's flesh be consistent with sanctity
or not. This, too, you will find to have been the dispute between
Achilles and Agamemnon. For. call them forth. What sav vou.

46 The Discourses of Epictetus

Agamemnon ? Ought not that to be done which is fit and right ?
Yes, surely. Achilles, what say you? Is it not agreeable to
you, that what is right should be done? Yes, beyond every
other thing. Adapt your pre-conceptions, then. Here begins
the dispute. One says: " It is not fit that I should restore
Chryseis to her father." The other says: "Yes, but it is."
One or the other of them certainly makes a wrong adaptation of
the pre-conception of fitness. Again, one says: " If it be fit
that I should give up Chryseis, it is fit, too, that I should take
some one of your prizes." The other: " What, that you should
take my mistress?" "Ay, yours." "What, mine only?
Must I only, then, lose my prize? "

2. What, then, is it to be properly educated? To learn how
to adapt natural pre-conceptions to particular cases, conform-
ably to nature; and, for the future, to distinguish that some
things are in our own power, others not. In our own power
are choice, and all actions dependent on choice ; not in our power,
the body, the parts of the body, property, parents, brothers,
children, country, and, in short, all with whom we are engaged in
society. Where, then, shall we place good ? To what kind of
things shall we adapt the pre-conception of it? To that in our
own power.

3. What, then, is not health, and strength, and life good?
And are not children, nor parents, nor country ? Who will have
patience with you ?

Let us transfer it, then, to the other sort of things. Can he
who suffers harm and is disappointed of good things be
happy ?

He cannot.

And can he preserve a right behaviour with regard to society?
How is it possible he should ? For I am naturally led to my own
interest. If, therefore, it is for my interest to have an estate, it is
for my interest likewise to take it away from my neighbour. If
it is for my interest to have a suit of clothes, it is for my interest
likewise to steal it wherever I find it. 2 Hence wars, seditions,
tyranny, unjust invasions. How shall I, if this be the case, be
able any longer to preserve my duty towards Jupiter? If I
suffer harm and am disappointed, he takes no care of me. And
what is Jupiter to me if he cannot help me, or again, what is he
to me if he chooses I should be in the condition I am ? Hence-
forward I begin to hate him. What, then, do we build temples,
do we raise statues to Jupiter, as to evil demons, as to the goddess
Fever? How, at this rate, is he the preserver, and how the

Hostages to Fortune 47

dispenser of rain and plenty? If we place the essence of good
anywhere here, all this will follow. What, then, shall we do?

4. This is the inquiry of him who philosophises in reality
and labours to bring forth [truth]. " Dp not I now see what is
good and what is evil? " Surely I am in my senses. Ay, but
shall I place good anywhere on this other side; in things de-
pendent [only] on my own choice ? Why, every one will laugh
at me. Some grey-headed old fellow will come with his fingers
covered with gold rings, and shake his head, and say: " Hark
ye, child, it is fit you should learn philosophy, but it is fit too
you should have brains. This is nonsense. You learn syllo-
gisms from philosophers ; but how are you to act, you know better
than they." " Then, why do you chide me, sir, if I do know? "
What can I say to this wretch? If I make no answer, he will
burst. I must e'en answer thus: " Forgive me, as they do
people in love. I am not myself. I have lost my senses."

CHAPTER XXIII

AGAINST EPICURUS

i. EVEN Epicurus is sensible that we are by nature sociable;
but having once placed our good in the mere shell, he can say
nothing afterwards different from that. For, again, he strenu-
ously maintains, that we ought not to admire or receive any-
thing separated from the nature of good. And he is in the right
to maintain it. But how, then, came 1 any such suspicions [as
your doctrines imply to arise], if we have no natural affection
towards an offspring? Why do you, Epicurus, dissuade a wise
man from bringing up children? Why are you afraid that upon
their account he may fall into uneasiness ? Doth he fall into any
for a mouse, that feeds within his house ? What is it to him if a
little mouse bewails itself there? But Epicurus knew that, if
once a child is born, it is no longer in our power not to love and
be solicitous for it. For the same reason, he says, a wise man
will not engage himself in public business, for he knew very well
what such an engagement would oblige him to do; for what
should restrain any one from affairs if we may behave among
men as we would among a swarm of flies ?

2. And doth he who knows all this dare to bid us not bring
up children? Not even a sheep or a wolf deserts its offspring,

48 The Discourses of Epictetus

and shall man ? What would you have ? That we should be as
silly as sheep? Yet even these do not desert their offspring.
Or as savage as wolves? Neither do these desert them. Pray,
who would mind you if he saw his child fallen upon the ground,
and crying? For my part, I am of opinion that your father
and mother, even if they could have foreseen that you would
have been the author of such doctrines, would not, however,
have thrown you away.

CHAPTER XXIV

HOW WE ARE TO STRUGGLE WITH DIFFICULTIES

i. DIFFICULTIES are the things that show what men are.
For the future, on any difficulty, remember that God, like a
master of exercise, 1 has engaged you with a rough antagonist.

For what end ?

That you may be a conqueror like one in the Olympic games,
and it cannot be without toil. No man, in my opinion, has a
more advantageous difficulty on his hands than you have;
provided you will but use it as an atbletic champion doth his
antagonist. We are now sending 2 a spy to Rome; but no one
ever sends a timorous spy, who, when he only hears a noise or
sees a shadow, runs back, frighted out of his wits, and says:
" The enemy is just at hand." So now, if you should come and
tell us: " Things are in a fearful way at Rome, death is terrible;
banishment, terrible; calumny, terrible; poverty, terrible;
run, good people, the enemy is at hand"; we will answer:
Get you gone, and prophesy for yourself; our only fault is that
we have sent such a spy. Diogenes s was sent a spy before you;
but he told us other tidings. He says that death is no evil, for
it is nothing base; that defamation is only the noise of madmen.
And what account did this spy give us of pain? Of pleasure?
Of poverty? He says that to be naked is better than a purple
robe, to sleep upon the bare ground the softest bed, and gives a
proof of all he says by his own courage, tranquillity, and free-
dom; and, moreover, by a healthy and robust body. There is
no enemy near, says he. All is profound peace. How so,
Diogenes? Look upon me, says he. Am I hurt? Am I
wounded? Have I run away from any one? This is such a
spy as he ought to be. But you come and tell us one thing

How to Struggle with Difficulties 49

after another. Go back again and examine things more exactly
and without fear.

2. What shall I do, then?

What do you do when you come out of a ship? Do you take
away the rudder or the oars along with you? What do you
take, then? Your own, your bottle, and your bundle. So, in
the present case, if you will but remember what is your own,
you will not claim what belongs to others. Are you bid to put
off your consular robe? Well, I am in my equestrian. Put
off that too. I have only my coat. Put off that too. Well,
I am naked. Still you raise my envy. Then e'en take my
whole body. If I can throw off a paltry body, am I any longer
afraid of a tyrant? 4

3. But such a one will not leave me his heir. What, then,
have I forgot that none of these things is mine? How, then,
do we call them mine? As a bed in an inn. If the landlord
when he dies leaves you the beds, well and good; but, if to
another, they will be his, and you will seek one elsewhere; and
consequently, if you do not find one, you will sleep upon the
ground; only keep quiet and snore soundly, and remember that
tragedies have no other subjects but the rich, and kings, and
tyrants. No poor man fills any other place in one than as part
of the chorus: whereas kings begin, indeed, with prosperity.
" Crown the palace with festive garlands." 5 But, then, about
the third or fourth act: " Alas, Cithaeron! why didst thou
receive me?" Where are thy crowns, wretch: where is thy
diadem ? Cannot thy guards help thee ?

Whenever you approach any of these, then, remember that
you meet a tragic player; or, rather, not an actor, but (Edipus
himself. But such a one is happy. He walks with a numerous
train. Well: I join myself with the crowd, and I too walk
with a numerous train.

4. But remember the principal thing: that the door is open.
Do not be more fearful than children; but as they, when the
play doth not please them, say, " I will play no longer ": so do
you, in the same case, say, " I will play no longer/' and go;
but, if you stay, do not complain,

50 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XXV

ON THE SAME SUBJECT

i. IF these things are true, and we are not stupid or acting a
part when we say that the good or ill of man consists in choice,
and that all besides is nothing to us, why are we still troubled?
Why do we still fear? What hath been our concern is in no
one's power; what is in the power of others we do not regard.
What embarrassment have we left?

But direct me.

Why should I direct you? Hath not Jupiter directed you?
Hath he not given you what is your own, incapable of restraint
or hindrance; and what is not your own, liable to both ? What
directions, then, what orders have you brought from him?
" By all methods keep what is your own: what belongs to
others do not covet. Honesty is your own; a sense of virtuous
shame is your own. Who, then, can deprive you of these?
Who can restrain you from making use of them but yourself?
And how do you do it? When you make that your concern
which is not your own, you lose what is." Having such precepts
and directions from Jupiter, what sort do you still want from
me? Am I better than he? More worthy of credit? If you
observe these, what others do you need? Or are not these
directions his? Produce your natural pre-conceptions : pro-
duce the demonstrations of philosophers: produce what you
have often heard, and what you have said yourself; what you
have read, and what you have studied.

How long is it right to observe these things, and not break up
the game?

As long as it goes on agreeably. A king is chosen at the
Saturnalian festival (for it was agreed to play at that game):
he orders, " Do you drink: you mix the wine: you sing: you
go: you come." I obey; that the game may not be broken
up by my fault. " Well: but I bid you think yourself to be
unhappy." I do not think so, and who shall compel me to think
so? Again: we agree to play Agamemnon and Achilles. He
who is appointed for Agamemnon, says to me: "Go to Achilles,
and force away Briseis." I go. " Come." I come.

2. We should converse in life as we do in hypothetical argu-

The Open Door 51

ments. "Suppose it to be night." Well: suppose it. "Is
it day, then? " No: for I admitted the hypothesis that it is
night. "Suppose that you think it to be night." Well:
suppose it. " But think also, in reality, that it is night."
That doth not follow from the hypothesis. Thus, too, in the
other case. Suppose you have ill luck. Suppose it. " Are
you, then, unlucky ? " Yes. " Have you some cross daemon ? "
Yes. " Well: but think too [in earnest] that you are
unhappy." This doth not follow from the hypothesis: and
there is one who forbids me to think so.

How long, then, are we to obey such orders ?

As long as it is worth while: that is, as long as I preserve
what is becoming and fit.

3. Further, some are peevish and fastidious, and say, I can-
not dine with such a fellow, to be obliged to hear him all day
recounting how he fought in Mysia. " I told you, my friend,
how I gained the eminence. There I am besieged again." But
another says, " I had rather get a dinner, and hear him prate as
much as he pleases."

Do you compare the value of these things, and judge for your-
self; but do not let it be with depression and anxiety, and with
a supposition that you are unhappy, for no one compels you to
that. Is the house in a smoke ? If it be a moderate one I will
stay, if a very great one I will go out. For you must always
remember and hold to this, that the door is open. " Well, do
not live at Nicopolis." I will not live there. " Nor at Athens."
Well, nor at Athens. " Nor at Rome." Nor at Rome
neither. "But you shall live at Gyaros." 1 I will live there.
But living at Gyaros seems to me like living in a great smoke.
I will retire where no one can forbid me to live (for that abode is
open to all), and put off my last garment, 2 this paltry body of
mine: beyond this no one hath any power over me. Thus
Demetrius said to Nero: "You sentence me to death; and
nature, you ! " 3 If I place my admiration on body, I give
myself up for a slave; if on an estate, the same; for I imme-
diately betray myself how I may be taken. Just as when a
snake pulls in his head, I say, strike that part of him which he
guards: and be you assured, that whatever you show a desire to
guard, there your master will attack you. Remember but this,
I whom will you any longer flatter or fear?

But I want to sit where the senators do.

T Do not you see that by this you straiten yourself? You
squeeze yourself?

52 The Discourses of Epictetus

Why, how else shall I see the show in the amphitheatre
cleverly?

Do not see it at all, man, and you will not be squeezed. Why
do you give yourself trouble? Or wait a little while, and when
the show is over, go sit in the senators' places and sun yourself.
For remember that this holds universally; we squeeze ourselves;
we straiten ourselves: that is, our own principles squeeze and
straiten us. What is it to be reviled, for instance? Stand by
a stone and revile it; and what will you get? If you, there-
fore, would hear like a stone, what would your reviler be the
better ? But if the reviler hath the weakness of the reviled for
an advantage ground, then he carries his point. " Strip him."
" What do you mean by him? " " Take my clothes; strip
off them [if you will]." " I have put an affront upon you."
" Much good may it do you."

4. These things were the study of Socrates; and, by this
means, he always preserved the same countenance. But we
had rather exercise and study anything than how to become
unrestrained and free.

The philosophers talk paradoxes.

And are there not paradoxes in other arts? What is more
paradoxical than the pricking any one's eye to make him see?
If a person was to tell this to one ignorant of surgery, would not
he laugh at him ? Where is the wonder, then, if, in philosophy
too, many truths appear paradoxes to the ignorant?

CHAPTER XXVI

WHAT THE LAW OF LIFE IS

i. As one was reading hypothetical syllogisms; It is likewise
a law in these, says Epictetus, to admit what follows from the
hypothesis : but much more is it a law in life to do what follows
from nature. For, if we desire in every subject of action, and in
every circumstance, to keep up to nature; we must, on every
occasion, evidently make it our aim neither to let consequences
escape our observation, nor to admit contradictions. Philo-
sophers, therefore, first exercise us in theory, which is the more
easy task, and then lead us to the more difficult: for in theory
there is nothing to oppose our following what we are taught;
but in life there are many things to draw us aside. It is ridi-

Ignorance and Vice 53

culous, then, to say we must begin from these, for it is not easy
to begin from the most difficult; and this excuse must be made
to those parents who dislike that their children should learn
philosophical speculations." Am I to blame, then, sir, and
ignorant of my duty and of what is incumbent on me ? If this
is neither to be learnt nor taught, why do you find fault with me ?
If it is to be taught, pray teach me yourself; or, if you cannot,
give me leave to learn it from those who profess to understand
it. Besides: do you think that I voluntarily fall into evil, and
miss of good ? Heaven forbid ! What, then, is the cause of my
faults ? " Ignorance. " Are you not willing, then, that I should
get rid of my ignorance ? Who was ever taught the art of music
or navigation by anger? Do you expect, then, that your anger
should teach me the art of living? " This, however, is allowed
to be said only by one who really hath that intention. But he
who reads these things, and applies to the philosophers, merely
for the sake of showing at an entertainment that he understands
hypothetical syllogisms; what doth he do it for but to be
admired by some senator who happens to sit near him ? l . . .

2. ... I once saw a person weeping and embracing the
knees of Epaphroditus ; and deploring his hard fortune that he
had not 50,000 left. What said Epaphroditus, then? Did
he laugh at him, as we should do? No; but cried out with
astonishment, Poor man! How could you be silent? How
could you bear it?

3. ... The first step, therefore, towards becoming a philo-
sopher is being sensible in what state the ruling faculty of the
mind is; for, when a person knows it to be in a weak one, he
will not immediately employ it in great attempts. But for
want of this, some, who can scarce get down a morsel, buy, and
set themselves to swallow, whole treatises; and so they throw
them up again, or cannot digest them; and then come colics,
fluxes, and fevers. Such persons ought to consider what they
can bear. Indeed, it is easy to convince an ignorant person in
theory; but in matters relating to life no one offers himself to
conviction ; and we hate those who have convinced us. Socrates
used to say that we ought not to live a life unexamined.

54 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XXVII

OF THE SEVERAL APPEARANCES OF THINGS TO THE MIND :
AND WHAT REMEDIES ARE TO BE PROVIDED FOR THEM

i. APPEARANCES to the mind are of four kinds. Things are
either what they appear to be; or they neither are, nor appear
to be: or they are, and do not appear to be: or they are not,
and yet appear to be. To form a right judgment in all these
cases belongs only to the completely instructed. But whatever
presses, to that a remedy must be applied. If the sophistries
of Pyrrhonism * or the Academy press us, the remedy must be
applied there : if specious appearances, by which things seem to
be good which are not so, let us seek for a remedy there. If it
be custom which presses us, we must endeavour to find a remedy
against that.

What remedy is to be fornd against custom?

A contrary custom. You hear the vulgar say, " Such a one,
poor soul! is dead/' Why, his father died; his mother died.
"Ay; but he was cut off in the flower of his age, and in a foreign
land." Hear the contrary ways of speaking: withdraw your-
self from these expressions. Oppose to one custom a contrary
custom; to sophistry the art of reasoning, and the frequent use
and exercise of it. Against specious appearances we must
have clear pre-conceptipns brightened up and ready. When
death appears as an evil, we ought immediately to remember
that evils may be avoided, but death is necessity. For what
can I do, or where can I fly from it? Let me suppose myself
to be Sarpedon, the son of Jove, that I may speak in the same
gallant way.

" Brave though we die, and honoured if we live;
Or let us glory gain, or glory give." POPE.

If I can achieve nothing myself, I will not envy another the
honour of doing some gallant action. But suppose this to be a
strain too high for us; are not we capable at least of arguing
thus?Where shall I fly from death? Show me the place;
show me the people to whom I may have recourse, whom death
doth not overtake. Show me the charm to avoid it. If there
be none, what would you have me do? I cannot escape death;
but 2 cannot I escape the dread of it ? Must I die trembling and

Evidence of the Senses 5 5

lamenting? For the origin of the disease is wishing for some-
thing that is not obtained. In consequence of this, if I can
bring over externals to my own inclination, I do it; if not, I
want to tear out the eyes of whoever hinders me. For it is the
nature of man not to bear the being deprived of good; not to
bear the falling into evil. And so, at last, when I can neither
bring over things to my own inclination, nor tear out the eyes
of him who hinders me, I sit down and groan, and revile him
whom I can; Jupiter, and the rest of the gods. For what are
they to me if they take no care of me ?
, Oh ! but you will be guilty of impiety.

What then? Can I be in a worse condition than I am now?
In general, remember this, that, unless piety and interest be
placed in the same thing, piety cannot be preserved in any
mortal breast.

2. Do not these things seem to have force? 8 Let a
Pyrrhonist or an Academic come and oppose them. For my
part, I am not at leisure, nor able to stand up as an advocate
for general consent. Even if the business were concerning an
estate, I should call in another advocate. With what advocate,
then, am I contented? With any that may be upon the spot.
I may be at a loss, perhaps, to give a reason how sensation is
performed; whether it be diffused universally, or reside in a
particular part; for I find difficulties that shock me in each
case; but, that you and I are not the same person, I very
exactly know.

How so?

Why, I never, when I have a mind to swallow anything, carry
it to your mouth, but my own. I never, when I wanted to take
a loaf, took a brush; but went directly to the loaf, as fit to
answer my purpose. And do you yourselves, who deny all
evidence of the senses, act any otherwise? Who of you, when
he intended to go into a bath, ever went into a mill?

What, then, must not we to the utmost defend these points?
support the general consent [of mankind] ? be fortified against
everything that opposes it? 4

Who denies that? But it must be done by him who hath
abilities, who hath leisure; but he who is full of trembling and
perturbation and inward disorders of heart, must employ his
time about something else.

56 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XXVIII

THAT WE ARE NOT TO BE ANGRY WITH MANKIND. WHAT
THINGS ARE LITTLE, WHAT GREAT AMONG MEN

i. WHAT is the cause of assent to anything?

Its appearing to be true.

It is not possible, therefore, to assent to what appears to be
not true.

Why?

Because it is the very nature of the understanding to agree
to truth, to be dissatisfied with falsehood, and to suspend its
belief in doubtful cases.

What is the proof of this?

Persuade yourself, if you can, that it is now night.

Impossible.

Unpersuade yourself that it is day.

Impossible.

Persuade yourself that the stars are, or are not, even.

Impossible.

2. When any one, then, assents to what is false, be assured
that he doth not wilfully assent to it as false (for, as Plato affirms,
1she soul is never voluntarily deprived of truth); but what is
false appears to him to be true. Well, then, have we, in actions,
anything correspondent to true and false in propositions?

Duty, and contrary to duty: advantageous, and disadvan-
tageous: suitable, and unsuitable; and the like.

A person, then, cannot think a thing advantageous to him,
and not choose it.

He cannot. But how says Medea?

" I know what evils wait my dreadful purpose;
But vanquished reason yields to powerful rage."

Because she thought that very indulgence of her rage, and the
punishing her husband, more advantageous than the preserva-
tion of her children.

Yes ; but she is deceived.

Show clearly to her that she is deceived, and she will forbear;
but, till you have shown it, what is she to follow but what
appears to herself?

What are Great Events? 57

Nothing.

Why, then, are you angry l with her, that the unhappy
woman is deceived in the most important points, and, instead
of a human creature, becomes a viper? Why do not you rather,
as we pity the blind and lame, so likewise pity those who are
blinded and lamed in their superior faculties ? Whoever, there-
fore, duly remembers that the appearance of things to the mind
is the standard of every action to man : that this is either right
or wrong : and, if right, he is without fault, if wrong, he himself
bears the punishment; for that one man cannot be the person
deceived, and another the sufferer: will not be outrageous and
angry at any one; will not revile, or reproach, or hate, or
quarrel with any one.

3. So, then, have all the great and dreadful deeds that have
been done in the world no other original than appearance ?

Absolutely no other. The Iliad consists of nothing but the
appearances [of things to the mind], and the use of those appear-
ances. It appeared to Paris to carry off the wife of Menelaus.
It appeared to Helen to follow him. If, then, it had appeared
to Menelaus to persuade himself that it was an advantage to be
robbed of such a wife, what would have happened? Not only
the Iliad had been lost, but the Odyssey too.

Do these great events, then, depend on so small a cause ?

What are these events which you call great?

Wars and seditions, the destruction of numbers of men, and
the overthrow of cities.

And what great matter is there in all this ? Nothing. What
great matter is there in the death of numbers of oxen, numbers
of sheep, or in the burning or pulling down numbers of nests of
storks or swallows ?

Are these like cases, then?

Perfectly like. The bodies of men are destroyed, and the
bodies of sheep and oxen. The houses of men are burnt, and
the nests of storks. What is there great or dreadful in all this?
Pray, show me what difference there is between the house of a
man, and the nest of a stork, so far as it is a habitation, 2 except-
ing that houses are built with beams and tiles and bricks; and
nests with sticks and clay ?

What, then, is a stork and a man a like thing? What do
you mean?

With regard to body, extremely like.

Is there no difference, then, between a man and a stork?

Yes, surely; but not in these things.

58 The Discourses of Epictetus

In what, then?

Inquire, and you will find that the difference consists in some-
thing else. See whether it be not in acting with discernment;
whether it be not in a social disposition; in fidelity, honour,
steadiness, judgment.

4. Where, then, is the great good or evil of man?

Where his difference is. If this is preserved and remains well
fortified, and neither honour, fidelity, or judgment is destroyed,
then he himself is preserved likewise; but when any of these is
lost and demolished, he himself is lost also. In this do all great
events consist. Paris, they say, was undone, because the
Greeks invaded Troy and laid it waste, and his family were slain
in battle. By no means; for no one is undone by an action not
his own. All that was only laying waste the nests of storks.
But his true undoing was when he lost the modest, the faithful,
the hospitable, and the decent character. When was Achilles
undone ? When Patroclus died ? By no means. But when he
gave himself up to rage; when he wept over a girl; when he
forgot that he came there not to get mistresses, but to fight.
This is human undoing; this is the siege; this the overthrow;
when right principles are ruined; when these are destroyed.

But when wives and children are led away captives, and the
men themselves killed, are not these evils ?

Whence do you conclude them such? Pray, inform me in
my turn.

Nay; but whence do you affirm that they are not evils?

5. Let us recur to the rules. Produce the pre-conceptions.
One cannot sufficiently wonder at what happens in this respect.
When we would judge of light and heavy, we do not judge by
guess; when of straight and crooked, not by guess: and, in
general, when it concerns us to know the truth of any particular,
no one of us will do anything by guess. But, where the first
and principal cause is concerned of acting either right or wrong;
of being prosperous or unprosperous, happy or unhappy; there
only do we act rashly and by guess. Nowhere anything like a
balance; nowhere anything like a rule; but some fancy strikes
me, and I instantly act conformably to it. For am I better
than Agamemnon or Achilles; that they, by following their
fancies, should do and suffer so many things, and fancy not
suffice me? And what tragedy hath any other original? The
Atreus of Euripides, what is it? Fancy. The (Edipus of
Sophocles? Fancy. The Phoenix? The Hippolytus ? All
fancy. To what character, then, doth it belong, think you, to

Of Intrepidity 59

take no care of this point? What are they called who follow
every fancy ?

Madmen.

Do we, then, behave any otherwise ?

CHAPTER XXIX

OF INTREPIDITY

i. THE essence of good and evil is a certain disposition of the
choice.

What are externals, then ?

Materials to the faculty of choice: in the management of
which it will attain its own good or evil.

How, then, will it attain good ?

If it doth not admire the materials themselves: for right
principles concerning these materials constitute a good choice;
but perverse and distorted principles, a bad one. This law hath
God ordained, who says, " If you wish for good, receive it from
yourself." You say, No; but from another. " Nay; but
from yourself." In consequence of this, when a tyrant threatens
and sends for me; I say, Against what is your threatening
pointed? If he says, " I will chain you"; I answer, It is my
hands and feet that you threaten. If he says, " I will cut off
your head "; I answer, It is my head that you threaten. If he
says, " I will throw you into prison"; I answer, It is the whole
of this paltry body that you threaten: and, if he threatens
banishment, just the same.

Doth not he threaten you, then?

If I am persuaded that these things are nothing to me, he
doth not; but, if I fear any of them, it is me that he threatens.
Whom, after all, is it that I fear? The master of what? Of
things in my own power? Of these no one is the master. Of
things not in my power? And what are these to me?

2. What, then! do you philosophers teach us a contempt of
kings?

By no means. Who of us teaches any one to contend with
them about things of which they have the command? Take
my body, take my possessions, take my reputation, take those
who are about me. If I persuade any one to contend for these
things as his own, accuse me with justice. " Ay, but I would

60 The Discourses of Epictetus

command your principles too." And who hath given you that
power? How can you conquer the principle of another? By
applying terror I will conquer it. Do not you see that * what
conquers itself is not conquered by another? And nothing but
itself can conquer the choice. Hence, too, the most excellent
and equitable law of God, that the better should always prove
superior to the worse. Ten are better than one.

To what purpose ?

For chaining, killing, dragging where they please; for taking
away an estate. Thus ten conquer one in the instance wherein
they are better.

In what, then, are they worse ?

When the one hath right principles and the others have not.
For can they conquer in this point? How should they? If
we were weighed in a scale, must not the heavier outweigh?

3. That ever Socrates should suffer such things from the
Athenians !

Wretch 1 what do you mean by Socrates? 2 Express the
fact as it is. That ever the poor paltry body of Socrates should
be carried away and dragged to prison by such as were stronger :
that ever any one should give hemlock to the body of Socrates ;
and that it should expire! Do these things appear wonderful
to you? These things unjust? Is it for such things as these
that you accuse God? Had Socrates, then, no equivalent for
them? In what, then, to him did the essence of good consist?
Whom shall we mind, you or him? And what doth he say?
" Anytus and Melitus 3 may indeed kill; but hurt me they
cannot." And again: " If it so pleases God, so let it be."

4. But show me that he who hath the worst principles gets
the advantage over him who hath the better. You never will
show it, nor anything like it: for the law of nature and of God
is this: Let the better be always superior to the worse.

In what?

In that wherein it is better. One body is stronger than
another: many than one; and a thief than one who is not a
thief. Thus I, too, lost my lamp because the thief was better
&t keeping awake than I. But he bought a lamp at the price
of being a thief, a rogue, and a wild beast. This seemed to
him a good bargain, and much good may it do him 1

5. Well; but one takes me by the coat and draws me to the
Forum; and then all the rest bawl out " Philosopher, what
good do your principles do you? See, you are dragging to
prison: see, you are going to lose your head!" And pray

Of Intrepidity 61

what rule of philosophy could I contrive, that when a stronger
than myself lays hold on my coat, I should not be dragged?
Or that when ten men pull me at once and throw me into prison,
I should not be thrown there? But have I learned nothing,
then? I have learned to know, whatever happens, that if it is
not a matter of choice it is nothing to me. Have my principles,
then, done me no good ? 4 What, then ! do I seek for anything
else to do me good but what I have learned ? Afterwards, as I
sit in prison, I say: He who makes this outcry neither hears
what signal is given nor understands what is said ; nor is it any
concern to him to know what philosophers say or do. Let him
alone. Well; but I am bid to come out of prison again. If
you have no further need for me in prison, I will come out; if
you want me again, I will return. " For how long will you go
on thus? " Just as long as 6 reason requires I should continue
in this paltry body: when that is over, take it and fare ye well.
Only let not this be done inconsiderately, nor from cowardice,
nor upon every slight pretence; for that, again, would be con-
trary to the will of God : for he hath need of such a world and
such creatures to live on earth. But if he sounds a retreat as he
did to Socrates, we are to obey him when he sounds it as our
general.

6. Well, but are these things to be said to the world ?

For what purpose ? Is it not sufficient to be convinced one's
self ? When children come to us clapping their hands and saying :
" To-morrow is the good feast of Saturn/' do we tell them that
good doth not consist in such things? By no means: but we
clap our hands along with them. Thus, when you are unable to
convince any one, consider him as a child, and clap your hands
with him ; or if you will not do that, at least hold your tongue.
These things we ought to remember; and when we are called to
any difficulty, know that an opportunity is come of showing
whether we have been well taught. For he who goes from a
philosophical lecture to a difficult point of practice, is like a
young man who has been studying to solve syllogisms. If you
propose an easy one, he says: Give me rather a fine intricate
one, that I may try my strength. Even athletic champions
are displaced with a slight antagonist. He cannot lift me, says
one. This is a youth of spirit. No; but I warrant you when
the occasion calls upon him, he must fall a-crying and say: " I
wanted to learn a little longer first." Learn what? If you
did not learn these things to show them in practice, why did
you learn them at all? I am persuaded there must be some one

62 The Discourses of Epictetus

among you who sit here that feels secret pangs of impatience,
and says: " When will such a difficulty come to my share as
hath now fallen to his ? Must I sit wasting my life in a corner
when I might be crowned at Olympia? When will any one
bring the news of such a combat for me? " Such should be the
disposition of you all. Even among the gladiators of Caesar
there are some who bear it very ill, that they are not brought
upon the stage and matched; and who offer vows to God, and
address the officers, begging to fight. And will none among you
appear such ? I would willingly take a voyage on purpose to see
how a champion of mine acts; how he treats his subject. " I
do not choose such a subject," say you. Is it in your power,
then, to take what subject you choose ? Such a body is given
you; such parents, such brothers, such a country, and such a
rank in it; and then you come to me and say: " Change my
subject." Besides, have not you abilities to manage that
which is given you? It is your business [we should say] to
propose; mine to treat the subject well. " No. But do not
propose such an argument to me ; but such a one : do not offer
such an objection to me; but such a one." There will be a
time, I suppose, when tragedians will fancy themselves to be
mere masks, and buskins, and long trains. These things are
your materials, man, and your subject. Speak something, that
we may know whether you are a tragedian or a buffoon: for
both have all the rest in common. If any one, therefore, should
take away his buskins and his mask, and bring him upon the
stage in his common dress, 6 is the tragedian lost or doth he
remain? If he hath a voice he remains. " Here, this instant,
take upon you the command." I take it; and, taking it, I
show how a person who hath been properly instructed behaves.
" Lay aside your robe, put on rags, and come upon the stage in
that character." What then? is it not in my power to bring a
good voice [and manner] along with me? "In what character
do you now appear? " As a witness cited by God. " Come
you, then, and bear witness for me, for you are a witness worthy
of being produced by me. Is anything external to the choice,
either good or evil? Do I hurt any one? Have I placed the
good of each individual in any one but in himself? What
evidence do you give for God? " I am in a miserable condition,
Lord; 7 I am undone; no mortal cares for me; no mortal
gives me anything; all blame me, all speak ill of me. Is this
the evidence you are to give? And will you bring disgrace
upon his citation who hath conferred such an honour upon you,

Who Condemns Thee? 63

and thought you worthy of being produced as a witness in such a
cause ?

7. But he who hath the power hath given sentence. " I
judge you to be impious and profane." What hath befallen
you? I have been judged to be impious and profane. Any-
thing else? Nothing. Suppose he had passed his judgment
upon an hypothetical proposition, and pronounced it to be a
false conclusion, that if it be day it is light; what would have
befallen the proposition? In this case who is judged; who
condemned; the proposition, or he who is deceived concerning
it? Doth he, who hath the power of pronouncing anything
concerning you, know what pious or impious mean? Hath he
made it his study, or learned it? Where? From whom? A
musician would not regard him if he pronounced bass to be
treble: nor a mathematician, if he passed sentence that lines
drawn from the centre to the circle are not equal. And shall
he, who is truly learned, regard an unlearned man, when he
pronounces upon pious and impious, just and unjust?

8. " Oh, the injuries to which the learned are exposed! "
Is it here that you have learned this? Why do not you leave
such pitiful reasonings to idle pitiful fellows ; 8 and let them sit in
a corner, and receive some little sorry pay, or grumble that
nobody gives them anything? But do you appear, and make
use of what you have learned. It is not reasonings that are
wanted now. On the contrary, books are stuffed full of Stoical
reasonings.

What is wanted, then?

One to apply them, whose actions may bear testimony to his
doctrines. Assume me this character, that we may no longer
make use of the examples of the ancients in the schools; but
may have some example of our own.

9. To whom, then, doth the contemplation of these [specu-
lative reasonings] belong?

To him that hath leisure. For man is an animal fond of con-
templation. But it is shameful to take a view of these things
as runaway slaves do of a play. We are to sit quietly and
listen, sometimes to the actor, and sometimes to the musician:
and not do like those, who come in and praise the actor, and at
the same time look round them every way: then, if any one
happens to name their master, are frighted out of their wits
and run off. It is shameful for a philosopher thus to contem-
plate the works of nature. Now, what, in this case, is the
master? Man is not the master of man; but death, and life,

64 The Discourses of Epictetus

and pleasure, and pain: for without these, bring Csesar to me,
and you will see how intrepid I shall be. But, if he comes
thundering and lightning with these; and these are the objects
of my terror; what do I else but, like the runaway slave,
acknowledge my master? While I have any respite from these,
as the fugitive comes into the theatre, so I bathe, drink, sing;
but all, with terror and anxiety. But, if I free myself from my
masters, that is, from such things as render a master terrible,
what trouble, what master have I remaining ?

10. What, then, are we to publish these things to all men?

No. But humour the vulgar, and say : This poor man advises
me to what he thinks good for himself. I excuse him; for
Socrates, too, excused the jailor who wept when he was to drink
the poison, and said, " How heartily he sheds tears for us." Was
it to him that Socrates said, " For this reason we send the women
out of the way " ? No; but to his friends: to such as were
capable of hearing it, while he humoured the other as a child.

CHAPTER XXX

WHAT WE OUGHT TO HAVE READY IN DIFFICULT CIRCUMSTANCES

WHEN you are going to any one of the great, remember, that
there is Another, who sees from above what passes ; and whom
you ought to please rather than man. He, therefore, asks you :

In the schools, what did you use to call exile, and prison, and
chains, and death, and defamation ?

I? Indifferent things.

What, then, do you call them now? Are they at all changed ?

No.

Are you changed, then?

No.

Tell me, then, what things are indifferent.

Things independent on choice.

Tell me the consequence too.

Things independent on choice, are nothing to me.

Tell me, likewise, what appeared to us to be the good of man.

A right choice and a right use of the appearances of things.

What his end?

To follow thee.

The Test 65

Do you say the same things now, too ?

Yes. I do say the same things, even now.

Well, go in, then, boldly, and mindful of these things : and you
will see what a youth, who hath studied what he ought, is
among men who have not. I protest, I imagine you will have
such thoughts as these : " Why do we provide so many and great
qualifications for nothing? Is the power, the antechamber, the
attendants, the guards, no more than this ? Is it for these that
I have listened to so many dissertations? These are nothing:
and I had qualified myself as for some great encounter."

END OF THE FIRST BOOK

BOOK II
CHAPTER I

THAT COURAGE IS NOT INCONSISTENT WITH CAUTION

i. WHAT is asserted by the philosophers may, perhaps, appear
a paradox to some : let us, however, examine, as well as we can,
whether this be true: That it is possible in all things to act at
once with caution and courage. For caution seems, in some
measure, contrary to courage; and contraries are by no means
consistent. The appearance of a paradox to many, in the
present case, seems to me to arise from something like this. If,
indeed, we assert that courage and caution are to be used in the
same instances, we should justly be accused of uniting contra-
dictions : but, in the way that we affirm it, where is the absurdity ?
For, if what hath been so often said, and so often demonstrated,
be certain, that the essence of good and evil consists in the use of
the appearances; and that things independent on choice are
not of the nature either of good or evil: what paradox do the
philosophers assert, if they say: " Where things are not de-
pendent on choice, be courageous; where they are, be cautious " ?
For in these only, if evil consists in a bad choice, is caution to
be used. And if things independent on choice, and not in our
power, are nothing to us, in these we are to make use of courage.
Thus we shall be at once cautious and courageous : and, indeed,
courageous on the account of this very caution; for, by using
caution with regard to things really evil, we shall gain courage
with regard to what are not so.

2. But we are in the same condition as deer: when these in a
fright fly from the feathers, 1 where do they turn, and to what do
they retire for safety ? To the toils. And thus they are undone,
by inverting the objects of fear and confidence. Thus we, too.
In what instances do we make use of fear? In things inde-
pendent on choice. In what, on the other hand, do we behave
with courage, as if there were nothing to be dreaded? In
things dependent on choice. To be deceived, then, or to act
rashly or imprudently, or to indulge an ignominious desire, is of

66

Courage 67

no importance to us, if we do but take a good aim in things
independent on choice. But where death, or exile, or pain, or
ignominy are concerned, there is the retreat, there the flutter
and fright. Hence, as it must be with those who err in matters
of the greatest importance, what is naturally courage we render
bold, desperate, rash, and impudent; and what is naturally
caution, timid and base, and full of fears and perturbations. For
if a person was to transfer caution to choice, and the actions of
choice, by a willingness to be cautious, he will at the same time
have it in his power to avoid [what he guards against]; but if
he transfers it to things not in our power, or choice, by fixing his
aversion on what is not in our own power but dependent on
others, he will necessarily fear; he will be hurried; will be dis-
turbed. For it is not death or pain that is to be feared; but
the fear of pain or death. Hence we commend him who
says:

" Death is no ill, but shamefully to die."

Courage, then, ought to be opposed to death, and caution to
the fear of death: whereas we, on the contrary, oppose to death,
flight; and to our principle concerning it, carelessness and
desperateness and indifference.

3. Socrates used very properly to call these things vizards :
for, as masks appear shocking and formidable to children, from
their inexperience, we are affected in like manner, with regard
to things, for no other reason than as children are with regard
to vizards. For what is a child ? Ignorance. What is a child ?
Want of learning; for, so far as the knowledge of children ex-
tends, they are not inferior to us. What is death? A vizard.
Turn it, and be convinced. See, it doth not bite. This little
body and spirit must be separated (as they formerly were) either
now, or hereafter: why, then, are you displeased if it be now?
For if not now, it will be hereafter. Why? To complete the
revolutions of the world: for that hath need of some things
present, others to come, and others already completed. What
is pain? A vizard. Turn it, and be convinced.

This paltry flesh is sometimes affected by harsh, sometimes
by smooth impressions. If suffering be not worth your while,
the door is open; if it be, bear it: for it was fit the door should
be open against all accidents. And thus we have no trouble.

4. What, then, is the fruit of these principles? What it
ought to be ; the most noble, and the most becoming, the truly
educated, 2 tranquillity, security, freedom. For in this case we

68 The Discourses of Epictetus

are not to give credit to the many, who say that none ought to
be educated but the free; but rather to the philosophers, who
say that the well-educated alone are free.

How so?

Thus, is freedom anything else than the power of living as
we like ?

Nothing else.

Well, tell me, then, do you like to live in error?

We do not. No one, sure, that lives in error 3 is free.

Do you like to live in fear? Do you like to live in sorrow?
Do you like to live in perturbation?

By no means.

No one, therefore, in a state of fear, or sorrow, or perturbation,
is free; but whoever is delivered from sorrow, fear, and per-
turbation, by the same means is delivered likewise from slavery.
How shall we believe you, then, good legislators, when you say,
" We allow none to be educated, but the free " ? for the philo-
sophers say, " We allow none to be free, but the liberally-
educated ": that is, God doth not allow it.

What, then, when any person had turned his slave about
before the consul, 4 hath he done nothing?

Yes, he hath.

What?

He hath turned his slave about before the consul.

Nothing more ?

Yes. He pays a fine for him.

Well, then, is not the man who hath gone through this
ceremony rendered free?

No more than he is rendered exempt from perturbation.
Pray, have you, who are able to give this freedom to others, no
master of your own? Are not you a slave to money? to a
girl? to a boy? to a tyrant? to some friend of a tyrant? else,
why do you tremble when any of these is in question? There-
fore I so often repeat to you, Let this be your study; have this
always at hand; in what it is necessary to be courageous, and
in what cautious: courageous in what doth not depend on
choice; cautious in what doth.

5. 6 But have not I read my papers to you? Do not you
know what I am doing ?

In what?

In my essays.

Show me in what state you are as to desire and aversion.
Whether you do not fail of what you wish, and incur what you

How Socrates Wrote 69

would avoid: but, as to these commonplace essays, if you are
wise, you will take them and obliterate them.

Why, did not Socrates write?

Yes, who 6 so much? But how? As he had not always one
at hand to argue against his principles, or be argued against in his
turn, he argued with, and examined himself; and always treated,
at least, some one natural notion, in a manner fitted for the use
of life. These are the things which a philosopher writes, but
for such 7 commonplace essays as those I am speaking of, he
leaves to the insensible, or to the happy creatures whom idle-
ness 8 furnishes with leisure ; or to such as are too weak to
regard consequences. And will you, when you are gone from
hence, 9 which the time now calls for, be fond of showing, and
reading, and be ridiculously conceited, of these things ?

Pray, see how I compose dialogues.

Talk not of that, man; but rather be able to say: See how I
avoid being disappointed of my desire; see how I secure myself
against incurring my aversion. Set death before me, set pain,
set a prison, set ignominy, set condemnation before me, and you
will know me. This is the [proper] ostentation of a young
man come out from the schools. Leave the rest to others.
Let no one ever hear you utter a word about them, nor suffer
it, if any one commends you for them: but think that you are
nobody, and that you know nothing. Appear to know only
this, how you may never be disappointed of your desire; never
incur your aversion. Let others study causes, problems, and
syllogisms. Do you study death, chains, torture, exile: 10 and
all these with courage, and reliance upon him who hath called
you to them, and judged you worthy a post in which you may
show what the rational governing faculty can do when set in
array against powers independent on the choice. And thus,
this paradox becomes neither impossible nor a paradox, that we
must be at once cautious and courageous: courageous in what
doth not depend upon choice, and cautious in what doth.

70 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER II

OF TRANQUILLITY

i. CONSIDER, you who are going to take your trial, what you
wish to preserve, and in what to succeed. For if you wish to
preserve a choice conformable to nature, you are entirely safe;
everything goes well; you have no trouble on your hands.
While you wish to preserve what is in your own power, and
which is naturally free, and are contented with that, whom
have you longer to care for? For who is the master of things
like these? Who can take them away? If you wish to be a
man of honour and fidelity, who shall prevent you? If you
wish not to be restrained or compelled, who shall compel you
to desires contrary to your principles; to aversions contrary
to your opinion? The judge, perhaps, will pass a sentence
against you which he thinks formidable: but how can he like-
wise make you receive it with aversion? Since, then, desire
and aversion are in your own power, what have you else to care
for? Let this be your introduction, 1 this your narration, this
your proof, this your victory, this your conclusion, and this
your applause. Thus Socrates, to one who put him in mind to
prepare himself for his trial: " Do not you think," says he,
" that I have been preparing myself for this very thing my
whole life ? " By what kind of preparation ? "I have preserved
what was in my own power." What do you mean? " I have
done nothing unjust, either in public or in private life."

2. But if you wish to preserve externals too; your paltry
body, your estate or dignity; I advise you immediately to pre-
pare yourself by every possible preparation, and besides, con-
sider the disposition of your judge, and of your adversary. If
it be necessary to fall down at his feet, fall down at his feet: if to
weep, weep: if to groan, groan. For when you have subjected
what is in your own power to externals, submit to slavery at
once, and do not struggle, and at one time be willing to be a
slave, and at another not willing: but simply, and with your
whole intention, be one or the other; free or a slave, well-
educated or not; a game-cock or a craven: either bear to be
beat till you die, or give out at once; and do not be soundly
beat first, and then give out at last. If both these be shameful,
make the distinction immediately.

Good and Evil 71

3. Where is the nature of good and evil?

Where truth likewise is. Where truth and where nature are, 2
there is caution: where truth and where nature are not, there
is courage. Why, do you think that if Socrates had wished to
preserve externals, that he would have said, when he appeared
at his trial, " Anytus and Melitus may indeed kill, but hurt
me they cannot " ? Was he so foolish as not to see that this
way doth not lead to that end, but the contrary ? What, then,
is the reason that he not only disregards, but provokes his
judges? Thus my friend Heraclitus, in a trifling suit about
a little estate at Rhodes, after having proved to the judges
that his cause was good, when he came to the conclusion of his
speech, " I will not entreat you," says he, " nor care what
judgment you give: for it is rather you who are to be judged
than I." And thus he lost his suit. What need was there
of this? Be content not to entreat: do not tell them, too, that
you will not entreat, unless it be a proper time to provoke
the judges designedly, as in the case of Socrates. But if you
too are preparing such a speech, what do you wait for? Why
do you submit to be tried ? For if you wish to be hanged, have
patience, and the gibbet will come. But if you choose rather
to submit, and make your defence as well as you can, all the
rest is to be ordered accordingly: with a due regard, however,
to the preservation of your own character.

4. For this reason it is ridiculous too to say, " Suggest to
me what is to be done." How should I know what to suggest
to you? You should rather say, Inform my understanding to
accommodate itself to whatever may be the event. The former
is just as if an illiterate person should say: " Tell me what to
write when any name is proposed to me "; and I direct him to
write Dion; and then another comes, and proposes to him the
name, not of Dion, but of Theon ; what will be the consequence ?
What will he write? Whereas, if you had made writing your
study, you would be ready prepared for whatever word might
occur: if not, how can I suggest to you? For, if the circum-
stances of the affair should suggest something else, what will
you say, or how will you act? Remember, then, the general
rule, and you will need no suggestion: but if you gape after
externals you must necessarily be tossed up and down, according
to the inclination of your master.

And who is my master?

He in whose power is placed whatever you strive to acquire,
or would avoid.

72 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER III

CONCERNING SUCH AS RECOMMEND PERSONS TO THE
PHILOSOPHERS

i. DIOGENES rightly answered one who desired letters of
recommendation from him, " At first sight he will know you to
be a man: and whether you are a good or a bad man, if he
hath any skill in distinguishing, he will know likewise: and,
if he hath not, he will never know it, though I should write a
thousand times." Just as if you were a piece of coin, and
should desire to be recommended to any person as good, in
order to be tried: if it be to an assayer, he will know your
value, for you will recommend yourself.

2. We ought, therefore, in life also, to have something
analogous to this skill in gold; that one may be able to say,
like the assayer, Bring me whatever piece you will, and I will
find out its value : or as I would say with regard to syllogisms,
Bring me whomever you will, and I will distinguish for you,
whether he knows how to solve syllogisms or not. Why?
Because I can solve syllogisms myself, and have that faculty,
which is necessary for one who knows how to find out persons
skilled in the solution of syllogisms. But how do I act in life?
I at some times call a thing good; at others, bad. What is the
cause of this? The contrary to what happens in syllogisms:
ignorance and inexperience.

CHAPTER IV

CONCERNING A PERSON WHO HAD BEEN GUILTY OF
ADULTERY

i. As he was saying, that man is made for fidelity; and that
whoever subverts this subverts the peculiar property of man;
one of those who pass for men of literature happened to come
in, who had been found guilty of adultery in that city. But,
continues Epictetus, if, laying aside that fidelity for which
we were born, we form designs against the wife of our neighbour,

False Friendship 73

what do we do? What else but destroy and ruin what?
Fidelity, honour, and sanctity of manners. Only these? And
do not we ruin neighbourhood? Friendship? Our country?
In what rank do we place ourselves? How am I to consider
you, sir? As a neighbour? A friend? What sort of one?
As a citizen? How shall I trust you? Indeed, if you were
some sorry vessel, so noisome that no use could be made of you,
you might be thrown on a dunghill and no mortal would take
the trouble to pick you up; but if, being a man, you cannot
fill any one place in human society, what shall we do with you ?
For, suppose you cannot hold the place of a friend, can you hold
even that of a slave? And who will trust you? Why, then,
should not you also be contented to be thrown upon some dung-
hill as a useless vessel, and indeed as mere dung ? Will you say,
after this, Hath no one any regard for me, a man of letters?
Why, you are wicked, and fit for no use. Just as if wasps should
take it ill that no one hath any regard for them, but all shun,
and whoever can beats them down. You have such a sting
that whoever you strike with it is thrown into troubles and pangs.
What would you have us do with you? There is nowhere to
place you.

2. What, then, are not women by nature common?

I admit it; and so is a pig at table common to those who
are invited. But, after it is distributed, go, if you think proper,
and snatch away the share of him who sits next you, or slyly
steal it, or stretch out your hand and taste ; and, if you cannot
tear away any of the meat, dip your fingers and lick them. A
fine companion ! A Socratic guest indeed ! Again : is not the
theatre common to all the citizens? Therefore come, when all
are seated, if you think proper, and turn any one of them out
of his place. Thus, women are common by nature; but when
the legislator, like the master of an entertainment, distributes
them, will not you, like the rest of the company, be contented
with desiring a share for yourself, but must you pilfer, and taste
what belongs to another?

But I am a man of letters, and understand Archedemus. 1

With all your understanding of Archedemus, then, be an
adulterer and a rogue; and, instead of a man, a wolf or an ape.
For where is the difference?

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CHAPTER V

HOW MAGNANIMITY MAY BE CONSISTENT WITH CARE

i. THE materials of action are indifferent; but the use of them
is not indifferent.

How, then, shall one preserve intrepidity and tranquillity;
and at the same time be careful, and neither rash nor indolent?

By imitating those who play at tables. The dice are in-
different; the pieces are indifferent. How do I know what
will fall out? But it is my business to manage carefully and
dexterously whatever doth fall out. Thus in life, too, this is
the chief business; distinguish and separate things, and say,
" Externals are not in my power, choice is. Where shall I
seek good and evil? Within; in what is my own." But in
what belongs to others, call nothing good, or evil, or profit,
or hurt, or anything of that sort.

2. What, then, are we to treat these in a careless way?

By no means; for this, on the other hand, is an evil exercise
of the faculty of choice; and, on that * account, against nature.
But we are to act with care, because the use of the materials
is not indifferent; and at the same time with intrepidity and
tranquillity, because the materials themselves are indifferent.
For where a thing is not indifferent, there no one can restrain
or compel me. Where I am capable of being restrained or com-
pelled, the acquisition doth not depend upon me; nor is either
good or evil. The use of it, indeed, is either good or evil; but
that doth depend upon me. It is difficult, I own, to blend and
unite the carefulness of one who is affected by the materials
of action, and the intrepidity of one who disregards them; but
it is not impossible : if it be, it is impossible to be happy. How
do we act in a voyage? What is in my power? To choose
the pilot, the sailors, the day, the time of day. Afterwards
comes a storm. What have I to care for ? My part is performed.
The subject belongs to another, to the pilot. But the ship is
sinking: what then have I to do? That which alone I can do;
I am drowned, without fear, without clamour, or accusing God;
but as one who knows that what is born must likewise die.
For I am not eternity, but a man; a part of the whole, as an
hour is of the day. I must come like an hour, and like an hour

Play the Game 75

must pass away. What signifies it whether by drowning or
by a fever? For, in some way or other, pass I must.

3. This you may see to be the practice of those who play
skilfully at ball. No one contends for the ball, as either a good
or an evil; but how he may throw and catch it again. Here
lies the address, here the art, the nimbleness, the sagacity;
that I may not be able to catch it, even if I hold up my lap
for it; another may catch it whenever I throw it. But if we
catch or throw it with fear or perturbation, what kind of play
will this be? How shall we keep ourselves steady; or how
see the order of the game? One will say, Throw; another, Do
not throw; a third, You have thrown once already. This is a
mere quarrel, not a play. Therefore Socrates well understood
playing at ball.

What do you mean?

Using pleasantry at his trial. " Tell me," says he, " Anytus,
how can you say that I do not believe a God? What do you
think daemons are? 2 Are they not either the offspring of
the gods, or compounded of gods and men? " " Yes." " Do
you think, then, that one can believe there are mules, and not
believe that there are asses? " This was just as if he had been
playing at ball. And what was the ball he had to play with ?
Life, chains, exile, a draught of poison, separation from a wife,
and the desertion of orphan children. These were what he had
to play with; and yet, nevertheless, he did play, and threw
the ball with address. Thus we should be careful how we
play, but indifferent as to the ball itself. We are by all means
to manage external materials with art; not taking them for
ourselves, but showing our art about them, whatever they may
happen to be. Thus a weaver doth not shake the wool, but
employs his art upon what is given him. It is another who
gives you food, and a property; and may take them away,
and your paltry body too. Do you, however, work upon the
materials you have received; and then, if you come off unhurt,
others, no doubt, who meet you, will congratulate you on your
escape. But he who hath a clearer insight into such things, if
he sees you have behaved in a becoming manner, will praise and
congratulate you; but, if you owe your escape to any unbe-
coming action, the contrary. For where there is a reasonable
cause of rejoicing, there is likewise a reasonable cause of con-
gratulation.

4. How, then, are some external things said to be according
to nature; others contrary to it ?

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When we are considered as unconnected individuals. I will
allow it is natural for the foot, for instance, to be clean. But
if you take it as a foot, and not as an unconnected individual
thing, it will be fit that it should walk in the dirt, and tread
upon thorns; and sometimes that it should even be cut off for
the good of the whole: otherwise it is no longer a foot. We
should reason in some such manner concerning ourselves.
What are you? A man. If then, indeed, you consider your-
self as an unconnected individual, it is natural that you should
live to old age, be rich and healthy; but if you consider your-
self as a man, and as a part of the whole, it will be fit, on the
account of that whole, that you should at one time be sick;
at another, take a voyage, and be exposed to danger; some-
times be in want; and possibly it may happen, die before your
time. Why, then, are you displeased ? Do not you know that
else, as the other is no longer a foot, so you are no longer a man ?
For what is a man? A part of a commonwealth, principally
of that which consists of gods and men; and next, of that to
which you immediately belong, which is a miniature of the
universal city.

5. What, then, must I at one time be called to a trial;
must another at another time be scorched by a fever; another
be exposed to the sea; another die; and another be con-
demned ?

Yes; for it is impossible, in such a body, in such a world,
and among such companions, but that some or other of us
must fall into such circumstances. 3 Your business, when you
come into them, is to say what you ought, to order things as
you can. Then, says one, " I decide that you have acted
unjustly." Much good may it do you; I have done my part.
You are to look to it, whether you have done yours; for there is
some danger of that too, let me tell you.

Indifference 77

CHAPTER VI

OF INDIFFERENCE

i. A HYPOTHETICAL proposition is an indifferent thing; but
the judgment concerning it is not indifferent, but is either
knowledge, or opinion, or mistake. Thus life is indifferent;
the use of it not indifferent. When you are told, therefore, that
these things are indifferent, do not, upon that account, ever be
careless; nor, when you are excited to carelessness, be abject,
and struck by the admiration of the materials of action. It is
good to know your own qualifications and powers ; that, where
you are not qualified, you may be quiet, and not angry that
others have the advantage of you in such things. For you
too will think it reasonable that you should have the advantage
in the art of syllogisms; and, if others should be angry at it, you
will tell them, by way of consolation, " I have learned it, and
you have not." Thus, too, wherever practice is necessary, do
not pretend to what can be obtained no other way; but leave
the matter to those who are practised in it, and do you be con-
tented with a composed firmness of mind. " Go, for instance,
and pay your compliments to such a person." " How? "
" Not meanly." " But I have been shut out; for I have not
learned to get in at the window; and, finding the door shut, I
must necessarily either go back, or get in at the window."
" But speak to him too." " I will speak to him." " In what
manner?" " Not meanly." But you have not succeeded;
for this was not your business, but his. Why do you claim
what belongs to another? Always remember what is your own,
and what is another's; and you will never be disturbed.

2. Hence Chrysippus rightly says: While consequences
are uncertain, I will keep to those things which are best adapted
to the attainment of what is conformable to nature: for God
himself hath formed me to choose this. If I knew that it was
now destined for me to be sick, I would even exert my pursuits
towards it: for even the foot, if it had understanding, would
exert itself to get into the dirt. For why are ears of corn pro-
duced, if it be not to ripen? and why do they ripen, if not to
be reaped? For they are not separate individuals. If they
were capable of sense, do you thaik they would wish never to

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be reaped? It would be a curse upon ears of corn not to be
reaped: and we ought to know, that it would be a curse upon
man not to die; like that of not ripening, and not being reaped.
Since, then, it is necessary for us to be reaped, and we have, at
the same time, understanding to know it, are we angry at it?
This is only because we neither know what we are, nor have
studied what belongs to man, as jockeys do what belongs to
horses. Yet Chrysantas, when he was about to strike an enemy,
on hearing the trumpet sound a retreat, drew back his hand:
for he thought it more eligible to obey the command of his
general than his own inclination. 1 But not one of us, even when
necessity calls, is ready and willing to obey it: but we suffer,
whatever things we do suffer, weeping and groaning, and calling
them our circumstances. 2 What circumstances, man? For
if you call what surrounds you circumstances, everything is a
circumstance: but, if you apply this name to hardships, where
is the hardship that whatever is born must die? The instru-
ment is either a sword, or a wheel, or the sea, or a tile, or a tyrant.
And what doth it signify to you by what way you descend to
Hades? All are equal: but, if you would hear the truth, the
shortest is that by which a tyrant sends you. No tyrant was
ever six months in cutting any man's throat: but a fever is often
a year in killing. All these things are mere sound, and the
pomp of empty names.

My life is in danger from Caesar.

And am not I in danger, who dwell at Nicopolis, where
there are so many earthquakes? And when you yourself cross
the Adriatic, 3 what is then in danger? Is not your life?

Ay ; but I am in danger with respect to opinion.

What, your own? How so? Can any one compel you to
have any opinion contrary to your own inclination ?

But the opinions of others too.

And what danger is it of yours if others have false opinions ?

But I am in danger of being banished.

What is it to be banished? To be somewhere else than at
Rome.

Yes ; but what if I should be sent to Gyaros ?

If it be worth your while, you will go: if not, you have
another place to go to ; where he who now sends you to Gyaros
must go likewise, whether he will or not. Why, then, do you
come to these as to great trials? They are not equal to your
qualifications. So that an ingenuous young man would say
It was not worth while for this, to have read and writ so much'

Divination 79

and to have sat so long listening to a good-for-nothing old
fellow. Only remember that division by which your own, and
not your own, is distinguished, and you will never claim what
belongs to others. A tribunal and a prison is, each of them, a
place; one high, the other low: but choice is equal, and if you
have a mind to keep it equal for both places, it may be kept.
We shall then become imitators of Socrates, when, even in a
prison, we are able to write hymns * of praise: but, as we now
are, consider, whether we could bear that even another should
say to us in a prison, " Shall I read you a hymn of praise? "
" Why do you trouble me: do you know in what a sad situation
I am? In such circumstances, am I able to hear hymns?"
"What circumstances?" "I am going to die." "And are
all other men to be immortal? "

CHAPTER VII

OF DIVINATION

i. FROM an unseasonable regard to divination, we omit many
duties. 1 For what can the diviner see, besides death, or danger,
or sickness, or, in short, things of this kind ? When it is neces-
sary, then, to expose one's self to danger for a friend, or even
a duty to die for him, what occasion have I for divination?
Have not I a diviner within, who hath told me the essence of
good and evil, and who explains to me the indications of both?
What further need, then, have I of the entrails of victims, or
the flight of birds? Can I bear with the other diviner, when he
says, " This is for your interest? " For doth he know what is
for my interest? Doth he know what good is? Hath he
learned the indications of good and evil as he hath those of the
victims? If so, he knows the indications likewise of fair and
base, just and unjust. Do you tell me, sir, what is indicated to
me; life or death, riches or poverty. But whether these things
are for my interest or not, I shall not inquire of you. " Why ? "
Because you do not give your opinion about grammar; and do
you give it here, in things about which we all take different
ways and dispute with one another? Therefore, the lady who
was going to send a month's provision to Gratilla, 2 in her banish-
ment, made a right answer to one who told her Domitian would

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seize it; I had rather, says she, that he should seize it than I
not send it.

2. What, then, is it that leads us so often to divination?
Cowardice, the dread of events. Hence we flatter the diviners.
" Pray, sir, shall I inherit my father's estate? " " Let us see,
let us sacrifice upon the occasion." " Nay, sir, just as fortune
pleases." Then, if he says, " You shall inherit it," we give him
thanks, as if we received the inheritance from him. The con-
sequence of this is that they play upon us.

3. What, then, is to be done?

We should come without previous desire or aversion. As
a traveller inquires the road of the person he meets, without
any desire for that which turns to the right hand, more than to
the left; for he wishes for neither of these, but that only which
leads him properly. Thus we should come to God as to a guide.
Just as we make use of our eyes, not persuading them to show
us one object rather than another, but receiving such as they
present to us. But now we hold the bird with fear and trem-
bling, and, in our invocations to God, entreat him, " Lord have
mercy upon me: suffer me to come off safe." You wretch!
would you have anything, then, but what is best? And what
is best, but what pleases God? Why do you, as fax as in you
lies, corrupt your judge and seduce your adviser?

CHAPTER VIII

WHEREIN CONSISTS THE ESSENCE OF GOOD

i. GOD is beneficial. Good is also beneficial. It should
seem, then, that where the essence of God is, there too is the
essence of good. What, then, is the essence of God? Flesh?
By no means. An estate? Fame? By no means. Intelli-
gence? Knowledge? Right reason? Certainly. Here then,
without more ado, seek the essence of good. For, do you seek
it in a plant? No. Or in a brute? No. If, then, you seek
it only in a rational subject, why do you seek it anywhere but in
what is distinct from irrationals? Plants have not the use of
the appearances of things, and therefore you do not apply the
term good to them. Good, then, requires the use of these
appearances. And nothing else? If so, you may say that

God in Man 8 1

good, and happiness, and unhappiness belong to mere animals.
But this you do not say; and you are right; for how much
soever they have the use of the appearances of things, they have
not the faculty of understanding that use, and with good reason,
for they are made to be subservient to others, and not principals
themselves. Why was an ass made? Was it as a principal?
No, but because we had need of a back able to carry burthens.
We had need too that he should walk ; therefore he had the use
of the appearances of things added, otherwise he could not
have walked. But here his endowments end; for if an under-
standing of that use had been likewise added, he would not in
reason have been subject to us, nor have done us these services,
but would have been like and equal to ourselves. Why will you
not, therefore, seek the essence of good in that, without which
you will not say there can be good in anything ?

2. What then? Are not these likewise the works of the
gods? They are, but not principals nor parts of the gods.
But you are a principal. You are a distinct portion of the
essence of God, and contain a certain part of him in yourself. 1
Why, then, are you so ignorant of your noble birth? Why
do not you consider whence you came? Why do not you
remember, when you are eating, who you are who eat, and
whom you feed? When you are in the company of women,
when you are conversing, when you are exercising, when you
are disputing, do not you know that it is a god you feed, a god
you exercise? You carry a god about with you, wretch, and
know nothing of it. Do you suppose I mean some god without
you, of gold or silver? It is within yourself you carry him, and
profane him, without being sensible of it, by impure thoughts
and unclean actions. If even the image of God were present,
you would not dare to act as you do; and when God himself
is within you, and hears and sees all, are not you ashamed to
think and act thus, insensible of your own nature and hateful to
God?

3. After all, why are we afraid, when we send a young man
from the school into action, that he should behave indecently,
eat indecently, converse indecently with women ; that he should
either debase himself by a shabby dress, or clothe himself too
finely? Doth not he know the god within him? Doth not he
know with whom he sets out? Have we patience to hear him
say, " I wish to have you with me " ?

Have you not God ? Do you seek any other, while you have
him ? Or will he tell you any other than these things ? If you

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were a statue of Phidias, either Jupiter or Minerva, you would
remember both yourself and the artist; and, if you had any
sense, you would endeavour to do nothing unworthy of him
who formed you, or of yourself: nor to appear in an unbe-
coming manner to spectators. And are you now careless how
you appear, because you are the workmanship of Jupiter?
And yet, what comparison is there, either between the artists
or the things they have formed ? What work of any artist con-
tains in itself those faculties which are shown in forming it?
Is it anything but marble, or brass, or gold, or ivory? And
the Minerva of Phidias, when its hand is once extended and a
Victory placed in it, remains in that attitude for ever. But
the works of God are endued with motion, breath, the use of
the appearances of things, judgment. Being, then, the forma-
tion of such an artist, will you dishonour him, especially when
he hath not only formed, but intrusted and given the guardian-
ship of you to yourself? Will you not only be forgetful of this,
but, moreover, dishonour the trust? If God had committed
some orphan to your charge, would you have been thus care-
less of him ? He hath delivered yourself to your care, and says,
" I had no one fitter to be trusted than you: preserve this
person for me, such as he is by nature; modest, faithful, sublime,
un terrified, dispassionate, tranquil." And will you not preserve
him?

4. But it will be said: " Whence this supercilious look, and
gravity of face? " [in our young philosopher]. " I have not yet
so much gravity as the case deserves. I do not yet trust to
what I have learned, and assented to. I still fear my own
weakness. Let me but take courage a little, and then you
shall see such a look and such an appearance as I ought to
have. Then I will show you the statue when it is finished,
when it is polished. Do you think I will show you a super-
cilious countenance? Heaven forbid! For Olympian Jupiter
doth not lift up his brow, but keeps a steady countenance, as
becomes him who is about to say

" Th' immutable decree
No force can shake: what is, that ought to be." POPE.

" Such will I show myself to you : faithful, modest, noble,
tranquil." What, and immortal too, and exempt from age and
sickness? " No. But sickening and dying as becomes a god.
This is in my power; this I can do. The other is not in my
power, nor can I do it." Shall I show you the 2 nerves of a
philosopher?

Man and Beast 83

What nerves are those?

A desire undisappointed ; an aversion unincurred; pursuits
duly exerted; a careful resolution; an unerring assent. These
you shall see.

CHAPTER IX

THAT WHEN WE ARE UNABLE TO FULFIL WHAT THE CHARACTER
OF A MAN PROMISES, WE ASSUME THAT OF A PHILOSOPHER

i. IT is no common attainment merely to fulfil what the
nature of man promises. For what is man?

A rational and mortal being.

Well : from what are we distinguished by reason ?

From wild beasts.

From what else ?

From sheep and the like.

Take care, then, to do nothing like a wild beast; otherwise
you have destroyed the man; you have not fulfilled what your
nature promises. Take care, too, to do nothing like cattle; for
thus likewise the man is destroyed.

In what do we act like cattle ?

When we act gluttonously, lewdly, rashly, sordidly, incon-
siderately, into what are we sunk ?

Into cattle.

What have we destroyed ?

The rational being.

When we behave contentiously, injuriously, passionately, and
violently, into what are we sunk ?

Into wild beasts.

2. And further: some of us are wild beasts of a larger size;
others, little mischievous vermin; whence there is room to say,
Let me rather be eat by a lion. By all these means is destroyed
what the nature of man promises. For when is a conjunctive
proposition preserved?

When it fulfils what its nature promises.

So that the preservation of such a proposition consists in
this, that its several parts are a conjunction of truths.

When is a disjunctive proposition preserved?

When it fulfils what its nature promises.

When is a flute, a harp, a horse, or a dog preserved?

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When each fulfils what its nature promises.

Where is the wonder, then, that man should be preserved and
destroyed in the same manner? All are preserved and improved
by operations correspondent to their several faculties; as a
carpenter, by building; a grammarian, by grammar; but if
he accustom himself to write ungrammatically, his art will
necessarily be spoiled and destroyed. Thus modest actions
preserve the modest man, and immodest ones destroy him;
faithful actions, the faithful man, and the contrary destroy
him. On the other hand, contrary actions heighten contrary
characters. Thus impudence, an impudent one; knavery, a
knavish one; slander, a slanderous one; anger, an angry one;
and unequitable dealings, a covetous one.

3. For this reason philosophers advise us not to be con-
tented with mere learning; but to add meditation likewise,
and then practice. For we have been long accustomed to con-
trary actions, and have practised upon wrong opinions. If,
therefore, we do not likewise habituate ourselves to practise
upon right opinions, we shall be nothing more than expositors
of the principles of others. For who among us is not already
able to discourse, according to the rules of art, upon good and
evil? That some things are good, some evil, and others in-
different: the good, virtue, and whatever partakes of virtue;
the evil, the contrary; and the indifferent, riches, health,
reputation: and then, if while we are saying all this there should
happen some more than ordinary noise, or one of the bystanders
should laugh at us, we are disconcerted. Philosopher, what is
become of what you were saying? Whence did it proceed?
Merely from your lips? Why, then, do you pollute the aids
which others have provided? Why do you trifle on the most
important subjects? It is one thing to hoard up provision in a
store-house, and another to eat it. What is eaten is concocted,
digested, and becomes nerves, flesh, bones, blood, colour, breath.
Whatever is hoarded up is ready, indeed, whenever you have
a mind to show it; but of no further use to you than the mere
notion that you have it. For what difference is there, whether
you explain these doctrines, or those of persons of opposite
principles ? Sit down now, and comment, according to the rules
of art, upon the principles of Epicurus: and perhaps you may
comment more practically than he could have done himself.
Why, then, do you call yourself a Stoic? Why do you act
a Jew, when you are a Greek? Do not you see on what terms
each is called a Jew, a Syrian, an Egyptian? And, when we

A Citizen of the World 85

see any one wavering, we are wont to say, This is not a Jew,
but acts one. But, when he assumes the sentiments of one
who hath been baptized and circumcised, 1 then he both really
is, and is called, a Jew. Thus we, falsifying our profession, are
Jews in name, but in reality something else. Our sentiments
are inconsistent with our discourse; far from practising what
we teach, and what we pride ourselves in the knowledge of.
Thus, while we are unable to fulfil what the character of a man
promises, we assume, besides, so vast a weight as that of a
philosopher. As if a person incapable of lifting ten pounds
should endeavour to heave the same stone with Ajax.

CHAPTER X

HOW WE MAY INVESTIGATE THE DUTIES OF LIFE FROM THE
NAMES WHICH WE BEAR

i. EXAMINE who you are. In the first place, a man: that
is, one who hath nothing superior to the faculty of choice;
but all things subject to this; and this itself unenslaved, and
unsubjected, to anything. Consider, then, from what you are
distinguished by reason. You are distinguished from wild
beasts: you are distinguished from cattle. Besides, you are a
citizen of the world, and a part of it; not a subservient, but a
principal part. You are capable of conprehending the divine
economy; and of considering the connections of things. What
then doth the character of a citizen promise ? To hold no private
interest; to deliberate of nothing as a separate individual, but
like the hand or the foot, which, if they had reason, and com-
prehended the constitution of nature, would never pursue,
or desire, but with a reference to the whole. Hence the philo-
sophers rightly say, that, if a wise and good man could foresee
what was to happen, he would help forward sickness and death,
and mutilation, to himself; being sensible that these things are
appointed from the order of the universe, and that the whole
is superior to a part, and the city to the citizen. But, since
we do not foreknow what is to happen, it becomes our duty to
adhere to what is more naturally adapted to our option: for,
amongst other things, we were born for this.
2. Remember, next, that you are a son; and what doth

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this character promise? To esteem everything that is his,
as belonging to his father: in every instance to obey him:
not to revile him to another: not to say or do anything injurious
to him: to give way and yield in everything; co-operating with
him to the utmost of his power.

3. After this, know likewise, that you are a brother; and
that to this character it belongs, to make concessions; to be
easily persuaded: to use gentle language; never to claim for
yourself any of the things dependent on choice, but cheerfully
to give these, that you may have the larger share of what is
dependent on it. For consider what it is, instead of a lettuce,
for instance, or a chair, to procure for yourself a good temper?
How great an advantage gained !

4. If, besides this, you are a senator of any city, consider
yourself as a senator; if a youth, as a youth; if an old man,
as an old man. For each of these names, if it comes to be con-
sidered, always points out the proper duties. But, if you go
and revile your brother, I tell you you have forgot who you
are, and what is your name. For even if you were a smith
and made an ill use of the hammer, you would have forgot
the smith: and, if you have forgot the brother, and are become,
instead of a brother, an enemy, do you imagine you have
made no change of one thing for another in that case? If,
instead of a man, a gentle social creature, you are become
a wild beast, mischievous, insidious, biting; have you lost
nothing? But must you lose money, in order to suffer damage;
and is there no other thing, the loss of which endamages a
man? If you were to part with your skill in grammar, or in
music, would you think the loss of these a damage? And, if
you part with honour, decency, and gentleness, do you think
that no matter? Yet the first are lost by some cause external,
and independent on choice; but the last by our own fault.
There is no shame either in 1 having, or losing the one; but
either not to have, or to lose, the other, is equally shameful
and reproachful and unhappy. What doth the pathic lose?
The man. What doth the smooth, effeminate fellow lose 1 a
Many other things; but, however, the man also. What doth
an adulterer lose? The modest, the chaste character; the
neighbour. What doth an angry person lose? Something
else. A coward? Something else. No one is wicked without
some loss or damage. Now, if, after all, you make the loss of
money the only damage, all these are unhurt and undamaged.
Nay, it may be, even gainers; as, by such practices, their money

Forgiveness and Forbearance 87

may possibly be increased. But consider: if you refer every-
thing to money, the man who loses his nose is not hurt. Yea,
say you, he is maimed in his body. Well; but doth he, who
loses his smell itself, lose nothing? Is there, then, no faculty
of the soul which he who possesses it is the better for, and he
who parts with it the worse ?

What sort do you mean ?

Have we not a natural sense of honour?

We have.

Doth he who loses this suffer no damage? Is he deprived
of nothing? Doth he part with nothing that belongs to him?
Have we no natural fidelity? No natural affection? No
natural disposition to mutual usefulness, to mutual forbear-
ance ? Is he, then, who carelessly suffers himself to be damaged
in these respects, unhurt and undamaged?

5. What, then, shall not I hurt him who hath hurt me?

Consider first what hurt is; and remember what you have
heard from the Philosophers. For, if both good and evil consist
in choice, see whether what you say doth not amount to this:
" Since he hath hurt himself by injuring me, shall not I hurt
myself by injuring him? " Why do we not make some such
representation to ourselves as this? Are we hurt when any
detriment happens to our bodily possessions, and are we not
at all hurt when any happens to our faculty of choice? He
who is deceived, or hath done an injury, hath no pain in his
head, nor loses an eye, a leg, or an estate, and we wish for nothing
beyond these. Whether we have a modest and faithful, or a
shameless and unfaithful, will and choice, we make not the
smallest difference; except only in the schools, as far as a few
words go. Therefore all the improvement we make reaches
only to words, and beyond them is absolutely nothing.

CHAPTER XI

WHAT THE BEGINNING OF PHILOSOPHY IS

i. THE beginning of philosophy, at least to such as enter upon
it in a proper way, and by the door, is a consciousness of our own
weakness, and inability in necessary things. For we came into
the world without any natural idea of a right-angled triangle, of
a diesis or a hemitone in music ; but we learn each of these things

88 The Discourses of Epictetus

by some instruction of art. Hence, they who do not understand
them do not form any conceit of understanding them. But
whoever came into the world without an innate idea of good
and evil, fair and base, becoming and unbecoming, happiness
and misery, proper and improper, what ought to be done and
what not to be done ? Hence we all make use of the names, and
endeavour to apply our pre-conceptions to particular cases.
" Such a one hath acted well, not well; right, not right; is un-
happy, is happy; is just, is unjust." Who of us refrains from
these names ? Who defers the use of them till he hath learnt it,
as those do who are ignorant of lines and sounds ? The reason
of this is, that we l come instructed in some degree by nature
upon these subjects, and from this beginning we go on to add
self-conceit. " For why, say you, should not I know what fair
and base is? Have not I the idea of it? " You have. " Do
not I apply this idea to particulars? " You do. " Do not I
apply it right, then? " Here lies the whole question; and here
arises the self-conceit. For, beginning from these acknowledged
points, men proceed to what is in dispute by means of their
unsuitable application. For, if they possess a right method of
application, what would restrain them from being perfect?
Now, since you think that you make a suitable application of
your pre-conceptions to partcular cases, tell me whence you
derive this.

From its seeming so to me.

But it doth not seem so to another, and doth not he too form
a conceit that he makes a right application ?

He doth.

Is it possible, then, that each of you should apply your pre-
conceptions right, on the very subjects about which you have
contradictory opinions ?

It is not.

Have you anything to show us, then, for this application,
preferable to its seeming so to you? And doth a madman act
any otherwise than seems to him right? Is this, then, a suffi-
cient criterion to him too ?

It is not.

Come, therefore, to something preferable to what seems.

What is that?

2. The beginning of philosophy is this: The being sensible
of the disagreement of men with each other; an inquiry into the
cause of this disagreement, and a disapprobation and distrust
of what merely seems; a certain examination into what seems.

The Beginning of Philosophy 89

whether it seem rightly; and an invention of some rule, like a
balance for the determination of weights, like a square for
straight and crooked.

Is this the beginning of philosophy, that all things which
seem right to all persons are so ?

Why, is it possible that contradictions can be right?

Well, then, not all things; but all that seem so to us.

And why more to you than to the Syrians, or Egyptians?
Than to me, or to any other man ?

Not at all more.

3. Therefore merely what seems to each man is not sufficient
to determine the reality of a thing. For even in weights or
measures we are not satisfied with the bare appearance; but
for everything we find some rule. And is there in the present
case, then, no rule preferable to what seems? Is it possible
that what is of the greatest necessity in human life should be
left incapable of determination and discovery ?

There is, then, some rule.

And why do we not seek and discover it; and when we have
discovered, make use of it, without fail, ever after, so as not
even to move a finger without it? For this, I conceive, is what,
when found, will cure those of their madness who make use of
no other measure but their own preverted way of thinking.
That afterwards, beginning from certain known and determinate
points, we may make use of pre-conceptions properly applied to
particulars. What is the subject that falls under our inquiry?

Pleasure.

Bring it to the rule. Throw it into the scale. Must good be
something in which it is fit to confide, and to which we may
trust?

Yes.

Is it fit to trust to anything unsteady ?

No.

Is pleasure, then, a steady thing?

No.

Take it, then, and throw it out of the scale, and drive it far
distant from the place of good things. But, if you are not
quick-sighted, and one balance is insufficient, bring another.
Is it fit to be elated by good?

Yes.

Is it fit, then, to be elated by a present pleasure? See that
you do not say it is; otherwise I shall not think you so much as
worthy to use a scale. Thus are things judged, and weighed,

90 The Discourses of Epictetus

when we have the rules ready. This is the part of philosophy,
to examine and fix the rules; and to make use of them when
they are known is the business of a wise and good man.

CHAPTER XII

OF DISPUTATION

i. WHAT things are to be learned in order to the right use of
reason, the philosophers of our sect have accurately taught,
but we are altogether unpractised in the due application of them.
Only give any of us that you please some illiterate person for an
antagonist, and he will not find out how to treat him. But when
he hath a little moved the man, if he happens to answer beside
the purpose, he knows not how to deal with him any further;
but either reviles or laughs at him, and says, " He is an illiterate
fellow: there is no making anything of him." Yet a guide,
when he perceives his charge going out of the way, doth not
revile and ridicule and then leave him; but leads him into the
right path. Do you also show your antagonist the truth, and
you will see that he will follow. But till you do show it, do not
ridicule him ; but rather be sensible of your own incapacity.

2. How, then, did Socrates use to act? He obliged his
antagonist himself to bear testimony to him, and wanted no
other witness. Hence he might well say, " I give up all the
rest, and am always satisfied with the testimony of my opponent;
and I call in no one to vote, but my antagonist alone. " For
he rendered the arguments drawn from natural notions so clear,
that every one saw, and avoided the contradiction. " Doth an
envious man rejoice? " " By no means. He rather grieves."
(This he moved him to say, by proposing the contrary.) " Well,
and do you think envy to be a grief for misery? " " And who
ever envied misery? " (Therefore he makes the other say, that
envy is a grief for happiness.) " Doth any one envy those who
are nothing to him?" "No, surely." Having thus drawn
[from his opponent] a full and distinct idea, he then left that
point; and doth not say, " Define to me what envy is "; and
after he had defined it, " You have defined it wrong; for
the definition doth not reciprocate to the thing defined."
Technical terms, and therefore grievous, and scarcely to be
made intelligible to the illiterate, which yet we, it seems, cannot

The Skill of Socrates 9 1

part with. But we have no capacity at all to move them by
such arguments as might induce them, in following the track of
the appearances in their own minds, to allow or disprove any
point. And from a consciousness of this incapacity, those
among us, who have any modesty, give the matter entirely up;
but the greater part, rashly entering upon these debates,
mutually confound and are confounded; and at last, reviling
and reviled, walk off. Whereas it was the principal and most
peculiar characteristic of Socrates never to be provoked in a
dispute, nor to throw out any reviling or injurious expressions,
but to bear patiently with those who reviled him, and to put an
end to the controversy. If you would know how great abilities
he had in this particular, read Xenophon's Banquet, and you
will see how many controversies he ended. Hence, even
among the poets, that person is justly mentioned with the
highest commendation,

" Whose lenient art attentive crowds await,
To still the furious clamours of debate." HESIOD.

But what then ? This is no very safe affair now, and especially
at Rome. For he who doth it must not do it in a corner, but
go to some rich consular senator, for instance, and question him.
" Pray, sir, can you tell me to whom you intrust your horses? "
" Yes, certainly/' " Is it, then, to any one indifferently,
though he be ignorant of horsemanship? " " By no means."
" To whom do you intrust your gold, or your silver, or your
clothes ?" "Not to any one indifferently." "And did you
ever consider to whom you committed the care of your body? "
" Yes, surely." " To one skilled in exercise, or medicine, I
suppose? " " Without doubt." " Are these things your chief
good; or are you possessed of something better than all
of them?" "What do you mean?" "Something which
makes use of these, and proves and deliberates about each of
them? " " What then, do you mean the soul? " " You have
guessed right; for indeed I do mean that."" I do really think
it a much better possession than all the rest." " Can you show
us, then, in what manner you have taken care of this soul?
For it is not probable that a person of your wisdom, and
approved character in the State, should carelessly suffer the
most excellent thing that belongs to you to be neglected and
lost." " No, certainly." " But do you take care of it your-
self? And is it by the instructions of another, or by your own
discovery [how it ought to be done]? " Here now comes the

9 2 The Discourses of Epictetus

danger, that he may first say, Pray, good sir, what business is
that of yours? What are you to me? Then, if you persist to
trouble him, he may lift up his hand and give you a box on the
ear. I myself was once a great admirer of this method of
instruction, till I fell into such kind of adventures,

CHAPTER XIII

OF SOLICITUDE

i. WhEN I see any one solicitous, I say, What doth this man
mean? Unless he wanted something or other not in his own
power, how could he still be solicitous ? A musician, for instance,
feels no solicitude while he is singing by himself: but when he
appears upon the stage he doth; even if his voice be ever so
good, or he plays ever so well. For what he wants is, not only
to sing well, but likewise to gain applause. But this is not
in his own power. In short, where his skill lies, there is his
courage. (Bring any ignorant person, and he doth not mind
him.) But in the point which he neither understands, nor hath
studied, there he is solicitous.

What point is that?

He doth not understand what a multitude is, nor what the
applause of a multitude. He hath learnt, indeed, how to
strike bass and treble; but what the applause of the many is,
and what force it hath in life, he neither understands, nor hath
studied. Hence he must necessarily tremble and turn pale. I
cannot, indeed, say that a man is no musician when I see him
afraid; but I can say something else, and that not one, but
many things. And, first of all, I call him a stranger, and say,
This man doth not know in what country he is; and, though he
hath lived here so long, he is ignorant of the laws and customs
of the State, and what is permitted and what not; nor hath he
ever consulted any lawyer who might tell and explain to him
the laws. Yet no man writes a will without knowing how it
ought to be written, or consulting some one who doth know;
nor doth he rashly sign a bond or give security. But he uses
his desire and aversion, exerts his pursuits, intentions, and
resolutions, without consulting any lawyer about the matter,

How do you mean without a lawyer?

Solicitude 93

He knows not that he chooses what is not allowed him, and
doth not choose what is necessary; and he knows not what is
his own and what belongs to others; for if he did know, he
would never be hindered, would never be restrained, would
never be solicitous.

How so ?

Why, doth any one fear things that are not evils ?

No.

Doth any one fear things that are evils indeed, but which
it is in his own power to prevent?

No, surely.

2. If, then, the things independent on choice are neither
good nor evil; and all that do depend on choice are in our own
power, and can neither be taken away from us, or given to us,
unless we please; what room is there left for solicitude? But
we are solicitous about this paltry body or estate of ours, or
about the determination of Caesar, and not at all about any-
thing internal. Are we ever solicitous not to take up a false
opinion ? No, for this is in our own power. Or not to exert our
pursuits contrary to nature? No, nor this neither. When,
therefore, you see any one pale with solicitude, as the physician
pronounces from the conplexion that such a patient is disordered
in the spleen, another in the liver, so do you likewise say, this
man is disordered in his desires and aversions, he cannot walk
steady, he is in a fermentation. For nothing else changes the
complexion or causes a trembling or sets the teeth a-chattering.

11 No force, no firmness, the pale coward shows;
He shifts his place, his colour comes and goes.
Terror and death in his wild eye-balls stare;
With chattering teeth he stands, and stiffened hair."

POPE'S Homer.

Therefore Zeno, when he was to meet Antigonus, 1 felt no
solicitude. For over what he admired Antigonus had no power,
and those things of which he had the power Zeno did not regard.
But Antigonus felt a solicitude when he was to meet Zeno, and
with reason, for he was desirous to please him, and this was
external. But Zeno was not desirous to please Antigonus; for
no one skilful in any art is desirous to please a person unskilful.

I am desirous [says one of his scholars] to please you.

For what? Do you know the rules by which one man
judges of another? Have you studied to understand what a
good, and what a bad man is; and how each becomes such?
Why, then, are not you yourself a good man?

94 The Discourses of Epictetus

On what account am I not?

Because no good man laments, nor sighs, nor groans; no
good man turns pale and trembles and says, " How will such a
one receive me, how will he hear me ? " As he thinks fit, wretch.
Why do you trouble yourself about what belongs to others?
Is it not his fault if he receives you ill ?

Yes, surely.

And can one person be in fault, and another the sufferer ? 2

No.

Why, then, are you solicitous about what belongs to others ?

Well, but I am solicitous how I shall speak to him.

What, then, cannot you speak to him as you will ?

But I am afraid I shall be disconcerted.

If you were going to write the name of Dion, should you be
afraid of being disconcerted ?

By no means.

What is the reason? is it not because you have studied how
to write?

Yes.

And if you were going to read, would it not be exactly the
same?

Exactly.

What is the reason ?

Because every art hath a certain assurance and confidence in
the subjects that belong to it.

Have you not studied, then, how to speak? And what else
did you study at school ?

Syllogisms and convertible propositions.

For what purpose? Was it not in order to talk properly?
And what is that but to talk seasonably and cautiously and
intelligibly and without flutter and hesitation, and in conse-
quence of all this with courage ?

Very true.

When, therefore, you go into the field on horseback, are you
solicitous about 'one who is here now on foot? Solicitous in a
point which you have studied, and another hath not?

Ay, but the person [with whom I am to talk] hath power to
kill me.

Then speak the truth, pitiful wretch, and do not be arrogant;
nor take the philosopher upon you; nor conceal from yourself
who are your masters: but while you may thus be laid hold
on by the body, follow every one who is stronger than you.
Socrates, indeed, had studied how to speak, who talked in such

A Well-disciplined Will 95

a manner to tyrants and judges, and in a prison. Diogenes 3
had studied how to speak, who talked in such a manner to
Alexander, to Philip, to the pirates, to the person who bought
him. This belonged to them who had studied the point, who
had courage. But do you walk off about your own affairs, and
never stir from them. Retire into some corner, and there sit
and weave syllogisms, and propose them to others. For there
is not, in you, one able

To rule the sacred citadel within.

CHAPTER XIV

CONCERNING NASO

i. WHEN a certain Roman came to him with his son and had
heard one lesson, This, said Epictetus, is the method of teach-
ing, and stopped. When the other desired him to go on, Every
art, answered he, is tedious when it is delivered to a person
ignorant and unskilful in it. Indeed, the things performed by
the common arts quickly discover the use for which they were
made, and most of them have something engaging and agree-
able. Thus the trade of a shoemaker, if one would stand by
and endeavour to comprehend it, is an unpleasant thing; but
the shoe is useful, and, besides, not disagreeable to see. The
trade of a smith is extremely uneasy to an ignorant person that
chances to be present, 1 but the work shows the usefulness of the
art. You will see this much more strongly in music; for if you
stand by, while a person is learning, it will appear to you of all
sciences the most unpleasant; but the effects are agreeable and
delightful, even to those who do not understand it.

2. Now here, we imagine it to be the work of one who
studies philosophy to adapt his will to whatever happens; so
that none of the things which happen may happen against our
inclination, nor those which do not happen be wished for by us.
Hence, they who have settled this point have it in their power
never to be disappointed of their desire, or incur their aversion;
but to lead a life exempt from sorrow, fear, and perturbation in
themselves; and in society preserving all the natural and
adventitious relations of a son, a father, a brother, a citizen, a
husband, a wife, a neighbour, a fellow-traveller, a ruler, or a

96 The Discourses of Epictetus

subject. Something like this is what we imagine to be the work
of a philosopher. It remains to inquire how it is to be effected.
Now we see that a carpenter by learning certain things becomes
a carpenter; and a pilot by learning certain things becomes a
pilot. Probably, then, it is not sufficient, in the present case,
merely to be willing to be wise and good; but it is moreover
necessary that certain things should be learned. What these
things are is the question. The philosophers say that we are
first to learn that there is a God, and that his providence directs
the whole; and that it is impossible to conceal from him, not
only our actions, but even our thoughts and emotions. We
are next to learn what the Gods are : for such as they are found
to be, such must he, who would please and obey them to the
utmost of his power, endeavour to be. If the deity is faithful,
he too must be faithful; if free, benefkient, and exalted, he
must be free, beneficient, and exalted likewise; and, in all his
words and actions, behave as an imitator of God.

3. Whence, then, are we to begin ?

If you will give me leave, I will tell you. It is necessary, in
the first place, that you should understand words.

So, then, I do not understand them now ?

No. You do not.

How is it, then, that I use them?

Just as the illiterate do written expressions, and brutes the
appearances of things. For use is one thing, and understand-
ing another. But if you think you understand them, bring
whatever word you please, and let us see whether we understand
it or not.

Well, but it is a grievous thing for a man to be confuted who
is grown old, and perhaps arrived through a regular course of
military service to the dignity of a senator.

I know it very well, for you now come to me as if you wanted
nothing. And how can it enter into your imagination that there
should be anything in which you are defective? You are rich,
and perhaps have a wife and children, and a great number of
domestics. Caesar takes notice of you ; you have many friends
at Rome; you render to all their dues ; you know how to requite
a favour and revenge an injury. In what are you deficient?
Suppose, then, I should prove to you that you are deficient in
what is most necessary and important to happiness, and that
hitherto you have taken care of everything, rather than your
duty; and, to complete all, that you understand neither what
God or man or good or evil means? That you are ignorant of

Vanity Fair 97

all the rest, perhaps, you may bear to be told; but if I prove to
you that you are ignorant even of yourself, how will you bear
with me, and how will you have patience to stay and be con-
vinced? Not at all. You will immediately be offended and
go away. And yet what injury have I done you? unless a
looking-glass injures a person not handsome, when it shows
him to himself such as he is. Or unless a physician can be
thought to affront his patient when he says to him, " Do you
think, sir, that you ail nothing? You have a fever. Eat no
meat to-day, and drink water." Nobody cries out here,
" What an intolerable affront! " But if you say to any one,
Your desires are in a fermentation; your aversions are low;
your intentions contradictory; your pursuits not conformable
to nature; your opinions rash and mistaken; he presently goes
away, and complains he is affronted.

4. This is the nature of our proceedings. As in a crowded
fair the horses and cattle are brought to be sold, and the greatest
part of men come either to buy or sell; but there are a few who
come only to look at the fair, and inquire how it is carried on;
and why in that manner; and who appointed it; and for what
purpose : thus, in the fair of the world, some, like cattle, trouble
themselves about nothing but fodder. For as to all you who
busy yourselves about possessions and farms and domestics
and public posts, these things are nothing else but mere fodder.
But there are some few men among the crowd who are fond of
looking on and considering, " What then, after all, is the world?
Who governs it? Hath it no governor? How is it possible,
when neither a city nor a house can remain ever so short a
time without some one to govern and take care of it, that this
vast and beautiful system should be administered in a fortuitous
and disorderly manner? Is there then a governor? What
sort of one is he? And how doth he govern; and what are we
who are under him ? And for what designed ? Have we some
connection and relation to him; or none? " In this manner are
the few affected; and apply themselves only to view the fair
and then depart. Well: and are they laughed at by the multi-
tude? Why, so are the lookers-on by the buyers and sellers;
and, if the cattle had any apprehension, they too would laugh
at such as admired anything but fodderg

The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XV

CONCERNING THOSE WHO OBSTINATELY PERSEVERE IN
WHATEVER THEY HAVE DETERMINED

i. SOME, when they hear such discourses as these, That we
ought to be steady; that choice is by nature free and uncom-
pelled; and that all else is liable to restraint, compulsion,
slavery, and belongs to others ; imagine that they must remain
immutably fixed to everything which they have determined.
But it is first necessary that the determination should be a sound
one. I agree that there should be a tension of the nerves in the
body ; but such as appears in a healthy, an athletic body : for,
if you show me that you have the tension of a lunatic, and value
yourself upon that, I will say to you, Get yourself to a physician,
man: this is not a tension of the nerves, but a relaxation of
another kind. Such is the distemper of mind in those who hear
these discourses in a wrong manner: like an acquaintance of
mine, who, for no reason, had determined to starve himself to
death. I went the third day, and inquired what was the matter.
He answered, " I am determined. " Well: but what is your
motive? for, if your determination be right, we will stay and
assist your departure; but, if unreasonable, change it. " We
ought to keep our determinations." What do you mean, sir?
not all; but such as are right. Else, if you should just now take
it into your head that it is night, if you think fit, do not change;
but persist, and say, We ought to keep our determinations.
What do you mean, sir? Not all. Why do not you begin by
first laying the foundation in an inquiry whether your deter-
mination be a sound one or not, and then build your firmness
and constancy upon it? For if you lay a rotten and crazy
foundation, you must not build: 1 and the greater and more
weighty the superstructure is, the sooner will it fall. Without
any reason you are withdrawing from us, out of life, a friend, a
companion, a fellow-citizen, both of the same greater 2 and
lesser city: and while you are committing murder and destroy-
ing an innocent person, you say, We must keep our determina-
tions. Suppose, by any means, it should ever come into your
head to kill me, must you keep such a determination?
2. With difficulty this person was, however, at last con-

Incurable Obstinacy 99

vinced; but there are some at present whom there is no con-
vincing. So that now I think I understand what before I did
not, the meaning of that common saying, that a fool will neither
bend nor break. May it never fall to my lot to have a wise, that
is an intractable, fool for my friend. 3 " It is all to no purpose : I
am determined." So are madmen too; but the more strongly
they are determined upon absurdities, the more need have
they of hellebore. Why will you not act like a sick person, and
apply yourself to a physician? " Sir, I am sick. Give me
your assistance: consider what I am to do. It is my part to
follow your directions." So, in the present case, I know not
what I ought to do; and I am come to learn. "No; but talk
to me about other things; for upon this I am determined."
What other things? What is of greater consequence than to
convince you that it is not sufficient to be determined, and to
persist? This is the tension of a madman, not of one in health.
" I will die if you compel me to this." Why so, man: what is
the matter? " I am determined." I have a lucky escape that
you are not determined to kill me. " I take no money." 4
Why so ? "I am determined." Be assured that wLh that very
tension which you now make use of to refuse it, you may very
possibly, hereafter, have as unreasonable a propensity to take
it; and again to say, " I am determined." As in a distempered
and rheumatic body the humour tends sometimes to one part,
sometimes to another; thus it is uncertain which way a sickly
mind will incline. But if to its inclination and bent an obstinate
tension be likewise added, the evil then becomes desperate and
incurable.

CHAPTER XVI

THAT WE DO NOT STUDY TO MAKE USE OF THE PRINCIPLES
CONCERNING GOOD AND EVIL

i. WHERE lies good? In choice. Where evil? In choice.
Where neither good nor evil? In things independent on choice.
What then ? Doth any of us remember these lessons out of the
schools? Doth any of us study how to answer for himself in
things as in questions? " Is it day? " " Yes." " Is it night,
then? " " No." "Is the number of stars even?"- "I
cannot tell." When money is offered you/ have you studied

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to make the proper answer that it is not a good? Have you
exercised yourself in such answers as these; or only in sophis-
tries? Why do you wonder, then, that you improve in points
which you have studied; and in those which you have not
studied, there you remain the same? When an orator knows
that he hath written well; that he hath committed to memory
what he hath written; and that he brings an agreeable voice
with him; why is he still solicitous? Because he is not con-
tented with what he hath studied. What doth he want, then?
To be applauded by the audience. He hath studied the power
of speaking, then; but he hath not studied censure and
applause. For when did he hear from any one what applause,
what censure is? What is the nature of each? What kind of
applause is to be sought, and what kind of censure to be shunned ?
And when did he ever apply himself to study what follows
from these lessons? Why do you wonder, then, if in what he
hath learned he excels others; but where he hath not studied,
he is the same with the rest of the world? Just as a musician
knows how to play, sings well, and hath the proper dress of his
profession, yet trembles when he comes upon the stage. For
the first he understands; but what the multitude is or what
the clamour and laughter of the multitude is he doth not
understand. Nor doth he even know what solicitude itself is:
whether it be our own affair or that of others, or whether it be
possible to suppress it or not. Hence, if he is applauded, he
is puffed up when he makes his exit: but if he is laughed at, the
tumour is pricked and subsides.

2. Thus are we too affected. What do we admire ? Externals.
For what do we strive ? Externals. And are we, then, in any
doubt how we come to fear and be solicitous? What is the
consequence, then, when we esteem the things that are brought
upon us to be evils? We cannot but fear; we cannot but be
solicitous. And then we say, " O Lord God, how shall I avoid
solicitude!" Have you not hands, fool? 2 Hath not God
made them for you ? 3 Sit down now and pray that your nose
may not run ! Wipe it rather, and do not murmur. Well: and
hath he given you nothing in the present case? Hath not he
given you patience? Hath not he given you magnanimity?
Hath not he given you fortitude? When you have such hands
as these, do you still seek for somebody to wipe your nose? 4
But we neither study nor regard these things. For give me
but one who cares how he doth anything, who doth not regard
the success of anything but his own manner of acting. Who ;

How to Act Nobly 101

when he is walking, regards his own action? Who, when
he is deliberating, the deliberation itself, and not the success
that is to follow it? If it happens to succeed, he is elated,
and cries, " How prudently have we deliberated! Did not I
tell you, my dear friend, that it was impossible, when we con-
sidered about anything, that it should not happen right? "
But if it miscarries, the poor wretch is dejected, and knows not
what to say about the matter. Who among us ever upon this
account consulted a diviner? Who of us ever slept in a temple
to be informed concerning his manner of acting? 5 I say, who?
Show me one (that I may see what I have long sought) who
is truly noble and ingenuous. Show me either a young or an
old man.

3. Why then are we still surprised, if, when we waste all our
attention on the materials of action, we are, in the manner of
action itself, low, sordid, worthless, fearful, wretched, and a
mere heap of disappointment and misery ? For we do not care
about these things nor make them our study. If we had feared
not death or exile, but fear itself, we should have studied not to
fall into what appears to us to be evil. But, as the case now
stands, we are eager and loquacious in the schools; and when
any little question arises about any of these things, we are pre-
pared to trace its consequences : but drag us into practice, and
you will find us miserably shipwrecked. Let some alarming
appearance attack us, and you will perceive what we have been
studying, and in what we are exercised. Besides this negli-
gence, we always accumulate somewhat else, and represent
things greater than the reality. In a voyage, for instance,
casting my eyes down upon the ocean below, and looking round
me and seeing no land, I am out of my wits, and imagine that
if I should be shipwrecked I must swallow all that ocean; nor
doth it once enter my head, that three pints are enough to do
my business. What is it then that alarms me? The ocean?
No, but my own principle. Again, in an earthquake, I imagine
the city is going to fall upon me; but is not one little stone
enough to knock my brains out? What is it then that oppresses
and puts us out of our wits ? Why, what else but our principles ?
For what is it but mere principle that oppresses him who leaves
his country, and is separated from his acquaintance, and friends,
and place, and usual manner of life? When children cry if their
nurse happens to be absent for a little while, give them a cake,
and they forget their grief. Shall we compare you to these
children, then?
TC 404

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No, indeed. For I do not desire to be pacified by a cake, but
by right principles. And what are they ?

Such as a man ought to study all day long, so as not to be
attached to what doth not belong to him; neither to a friend,
to a place, an academy, nor even to his own body, but to re-
member the law and to have that constantly before his eyes.
And what is the divine law? To preserve inviolate what is
properly our own, not to claim what belongs to others; to use
what is given us, and not desire what is not given us; and, when
anything is taken away, to restore it readily, and to be thankful
for the time you have been permitted the use of it, and not cry
after it, like a child for its nurse and its mamma. For what
doth it signify what gets the better of you, or on what you
depend? And in what are you superior to him who cries for
a puppet, if you lament for a paltry academy and a portico
and an assembly of young people, and suchlike amusements?
Another comes, lamenting that he must no longer drink the
water of Dirce\ Why, is not the Marcian water as good ? " But
I was used to that." And in time you will be used to the other.
And when you are attached to this too, you may cry again and
set yourself, in imitation of Euripides, to celebrate in verse

" The baths of Nero, and the Marcian water."

Hence see the origin of tragedy when trifling accidents befall
foolish men. " Ah, when shall I see Athens and the citadel
again ! " Wretch, are not you contented with what you see
every day? Can you see anything better than the sun, the
moon, the stars, the whole earth, the sea ? But if, besides, you
comprehend him who administers the whole, and carry him
about in yourself, do you still long after pebbles and a fine
rock ? 6 What will you do, then, when you are to leave even
the sun and moon? Will you sit crying like an infant ? What
then have you been doing in the school? What did you hear?
What did you learn ? Why have you written yourself a philo-
sopher, instead of writing the real fact? I have made some
introductions, 7 you may say, and read over Chrysippus; but I
have not so much as gone near the door of a philosopher. 8 For
what pretensions have I to anything of the same kind with
Socrates, who died and who lived in such a manner? Or with
Diogenes? Do you observe either of these crying, or out of
humour, that he is not to see such a man or such a woman; nor
to live any longer at Athens, or at Corinth, but at Susa, for
instance, or at Ecbatana? For doth he stay and repine who is

Dare to Look Up to God 103

at his liberty, whenever he pleases, to quit the entertainment
and play no longer? Why doth he not stay as children do, as
long as he is amused? Such a one, no doubt, will bear per-
petual banishment and a sentence of death wonderful well!
Why will you not be weaned, as children are, and take more
solid food? Will you never cease to cry after your mammas
and nurses, whom the old women about you have taught you to
bewail ? " But if I go away I shall trouble them." You trouble
them ! No, it will not be you, but that which troubles you too,
principle. What have you to do, then? Pluck out your prin-
ciple, and, if they are wise, they will pluck out theirs too; or,
if not, they will groan for themselves.

4. Boldly make a desperate push, man, as the saying is,
for prosperity, for freedom, for magnanimity. Lift up your
head at last, as free from slavery. Dare to look up to God and
say, " Make use of me for the future as thou wilt. I am of the
same mind ; I am equal with thee. I refuse nothing which seems
good to thee. Lead me whither thou wilt. Clothe me in what-
ever dress thou wilt. Is it thy will, that I should be in a public
or a private condition, dwell here or be banished, be poor or rich ?
Under all these circumstances I will make thy defence to men.
I will show what the nature of everything is." No. Rather
sit alone in a warm 9 place, and wait till your mamma comes to
feed you. If Hercules had sat loitering at home, what would
he have been? Eurystheus, and not Hercules. Besides, by
travelling through the world, how many acquaintance and how
many friends had he ? But none more his friend than God, for
which reason he was believed to be the son of God, and was so.
In obedience to him, he went about extirpating injustice and
lawless force. But you are not Hercules, nor able to extirpate
the evils of others; nor even Theseus to extirpate the evils of
Attica. Extirpate your own, then. Expel, instead of
Procrustes and Sciron, 10 grief, fear, desire, envy, malevolence,
avarice, effeminacy, intemperance, from your mind. But
these can be no otherwise expelled than by looking up to God
alone as your pattern; by attaching yourself to him alone, and
being consecrated to his commands. If you wish for anything
else, you will, with sighs and groans, follow what is stronger
than you, always seeking prosperity without, and never able to
find it. For you seek it where it is not, and neglect to seek it
where it is.

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CHAPTER XVII

HOW TO ADAPT PRE-CONCEPTIONS TO PARTICULAR CASES

i. WHAT is the first business of one who studies philosophy? l
To part with self-conceit. For it is impossible for any one to
begin to learn what he hath a conceit that he already knows.
We all go to' the philosophers, talking at all adventures upon
negative and positive duties, good and evil, fair and base. We
praise, censure, accuse; we judge and dispute about fair and
base enterprises. And for what do we go to the philosophers?
To learn what we suppose ourselves not to know. And what is
this? Theorems. We are desirous to hear what the philo-
sophers say, for its elegance and acuteness, and some with a view
only to gain. Now it is ridiculous to suppose that a person will
learn anything but what he desires to learn, or make an improve-
ment in what he doth not learn. But most are deceived in the
same manner as Theopompus the orator, when he blames Plato
for defining everything. " For what," says he, " did none of
us, before you, use the words good and just, or did we utter
them as empty sounds, without understanding what each of
them meant? " Why, who tells you, Theopompus, that we
had not natural ideas and pre-conceptions of each of these?
But it is not possible to adapt pre-conceptions to their corre-
spondent subjects, without having minutely distinguished them,
and examined what is the proper subject to each. You may
make the same objection to the physicians. For who of us did
not use the words wholesome and unwholesome before Hippocrates
was born? or did we utter them as empty sounds? For we
have some pre-conception of wholesome too, but we cannot
adapt it. Hence, one says, Let the patient abstain from meat;
another, Give it him; one says, Let him be bled; another,
Cup him. And what is the reason, but not being able to adapt
the pre-conception of wholesome to particular cases? Thus,
too, in life; who of us doth not talk of good and evil, advan-
tageous and disadvantageous: for who of us hath not a pre-
conception of each of these ? But is it then a distinct and perfect
one ? Show me this.

How shall I show it?

2. Adapt it properly to particular subjects. Plato, to go no

The Error of a Great Soul 105

further, puts definitions under the pre-conceptions of useful;
but you, under that of useless. Can both of you be right?
How is it possible? Again, doth not one man adapt the pre-
conception of good to riches? Another, not to riches, but to
pleasure or health? Upon the whole, if none of us who use
words, either utter them without meaning, or need to take any
manner of care in distinguishing our pre-conceptions, why do
we differ? Why do we wrangle? Why do we censure each
other? But what occasion have I to mention this mutual
contradiction? If you yourself adapt your pre-conceptions
properly, how comes it to pass that you do not prosper ? Why
do you meet with any hindrance ? Let us for the present omit
the second topic, concerning the pursuits, and the duties
relative to them; let us omit the third too, concerning assent.
I make you a present of all these. Let us insist only on the first, 2
which affords almost a sensible proof that you do not adapt
your pre-conceptions right. You desire what is possible in
itself, and possible for you. Why then are you hindered?
Why are not you in a prosperous way? You do not decline
what is necessary. Why then do you incur anything which is
your aversion? Why are you unfortunate? When you desire
anything, why doth it not happen? When you do not desire
it, why doth it happen ? For this is the greatest demonstration
of ill success and misery. I desire something, and it doth not
happen: and what is more wretched than I? From an im-
patience of this, Medea came to murder her own children, an
action of a noble spirit in this view; for she had a proper
impression of what it was to be disappointed of one's desire.
" Thus, I shall punish him who hath injured and dishonoured
me; and what is so wicked a wretch good for? But how is
this to be effected ? I will murder the children. But that will
be punishing myself. And what do I care? " This is the error
of a soul endued with great powers. For she knew not where
the completion of our desires is to be found ; that it is not to be
had from without, nor by altering the appointment of things.
Do not desire the man for your husband, and nothing which
you do desire will fail to happen. Do not desire to keep him
to yourself. Do not desire to stay at Corinth, and, in a word,
have no will but the will of God; and who shall restrain you,
who shall compel you any more than Jupiter? When you have
such a guide, and conform your will and inclinations to his,
what need you fear being disappointed? Yield up your desire
and aversion to riches, or poverty; the one will be disappointed,

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the other incurred. Yield them up to health, power, honours,
your country, friends, children, in short, to anything independent
on choice, you will be unfortunate. But yield them up to Jupiter
and the other gods. Give yourself up to these; let these
govern, let both be ranged on the same side with these; and
how can you be any longer unprosperous ? But if, poor wretch,
you envy, and pity, and are jealous, and tremble, and never
cease a single day from complaining of yourself and the Gods,
why do you boast of your education? What education, man?
That you have learned convertible syllogisms? Why do not
you, if possible, unlearn all these and begin again, convinced
that hitherto you have not even touched upon the point ? And,
for the future, beginning from this foundation, proceed in order,
to the superstructure, that nothing may happen which you do
not wish, and that everything may happen which you do.
Give me but one young man who brings this intention with
him to the school, who is a champion for this point, and says,
" I yield up all the rest: it suffices me, if once I become able to
pass my life, free from hindrance and grief; to stretch out my
neck to all events, as free ; and to look up to heaven, as the friend
of God, fearing nothing that can happen." Let any one of
you show himself of such a disposition, that I may say, " Come
into the place, young man, that is of right your own; for you
are destined to be an ornament to philosophy. Yours are
these possessions; yours these books; yours these discourses."
Then, when he hath mastered and got the better of this first
class, let him come to me again, and say, " I desire indeed to
be free from passion and perturbation; but I desire too, as a
pious, a philosophic, and a carefully attentive man, to know
what is my duty to God, to my parents, to my relations, to my
country, and to strangers." " Come into the second class too;
for this likewise is yours." " But I have now sufficiently
studied the second class too; and I would willingly be secure,
and unshaken 3 by error and delusion, not only awake, but even
when asleep ; when warmed with wine ; when diseased with the
spleen." " You are a god, man; your intentions are great."

3. " No. But I, for my part, desire to understand what
Chrysippus says, in his logical treatise of the Pseudomenos." 4
Go hang yourself, pitiful wretch, with such an intention as this.
What good will it do you ? You will read the whole, lamenting
all the while, and say to others, trembling, " Do as I do."
" Shall I read to you, my friend, and you to me? You write 6
surprisingly, sir, and you very finely imitate the style of Plato;

How Habits are Formed 107

and you, of Xenophon; and you, of Antisthenes." And thus,
having related your dreams to each other, you return again
to the same state. Your desires and aversions, your pursuits,
your intentions, your resolutions, your wishes and endeavours,
are just what they were. You do not so much as seek for one
to advise you; but are offended, when you hear such things as
these, and cry : " An ill-natured old fellow ! He never wept over
me, when I was setting out, nor said, To what a danger are you
going to be exposed ! If you come off safe, child, I will illu-
minate my house. This would have been the part of a good-
natured man." Truly, it will be a mighty happiness, if you do
come off safe; it will be worth while to make an illumination.
For you ought 6 to be immortal and exempt from sickness, to
be sure.

4. Throwing away then, I say, this self-conceit, by which
we fancy we have gained some knowledge of what is useful, we
should come to philosophic reasoning, as we do to mathematics
and music ; otherwise we shall be far from making any improve-
ment, even if we have read over all the collections and composi-
tions, not only of Chrysippus, but of Antipater and Archedemus
too.

CHAPTER XVIII

HOW THE APPEARANCES OF THINGS ARE TO BE COMBATED

i. EVERY habit and faculty is preserved and increased by
correspondent actions: as the habit of walking, by walking;
of running, by running. If you would be a reader, read ; if a
writer, write. But if you do not read for a month together, but
do somewhat else, you will see what will be the consequence.
So, after sitting still for ten days, get up and attempt to take
a long walk, and you will find how your legs are weakened.
Upon the whole, then, whatever you would make habitual,
practise it; and, if you would not make a thing habitual, do
not practise it, but habituate yourself to something else.

2. It is the same with regard to the operations of the soul.
Whenever you are angry, be assured that it is not only a present
evil, but that you have increased a habit, and added fuel to a
fire. When you are overcome by the company of women, do
not esteem it as a single defeat; but that you have fed, that you

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have increased, your dissoluteness. For it is impossible but
that habits and faculties must either be first produced, or
strengthened and increased, by correspondent actions. Hence
the philosophers derive the growth of all infirmities. When
you once desire money, for example, if a degree of reasoning
sufficient to produce a sense of the evil be applied, the desire
ceases, and the governing faculty of the mind regains its
authority: whereas, if you apply no remedy, it returns no
more to its former state; but, being again excited by a corre-
spondent appearance, it kindles at the desire more quickly
than before, and, by frequent repetitions, at last becomes
callous: 1 and by this infirmity is the love of money fixed.
For he who hath had a fever, even after it hath left him, is not
in the same state of health as before, unless he was perfectly
cured: and the same thing happens in distempers of the soul
likewise. There are certain traces and blisters left in it, which,
unless they are well effaced, whenever a new hurt is received
in the same part, instead of blisters become sores.

3. If you would not be of an angry temper, then, do not
feed the habit. Give it nothing to help its increase. Be quiet
at first, and reckon the days in which you have not been angry.
I used to be angry every day ; now every other day ; then every
third and fourth day : and, if you miss it so long as thirty days,
offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving to God. For habit is first
weakened, and then entirely destroyed. " I was not vexed
to-day; 2 nor the next day; nor for three or four months after;
but took heed to myself when some provoking things happened."
Be assured that you are in a fine way. " To-day, when I saw
a handsome person, I did not say to myself, that I could
possess her! And, How happy is her husband! (for he who
says this, says too, How happy is her gallant !): nor do I go on to
represent her as present, as undressed, as lying down beside
me." On this I stroke my head, and say, Well done, Epictetus:
thou hast solved a pretty sophism; a much prettier than one
very celebrated in the schools. 3 But if even the lady should
happen to be willing, and give me intimations of it, and send
for me, and press my hand, and place herself next to me, and I
should then forbear and get the victory, that would be a sophism
beyond all the subtleties of logic. This, and not disputing art-
fully, is the proper subject for exultation.

4. How, then, is this to be effected ? Be willing to approve
yourself to yourself. Be willing to appear beautiful in the
sight of God: be desirous to converse in purity with your own

Strive for an Incorruptible Crown 109

pure mind, and with God; and then, if any such appearance
strikes you, Plato directs you: " Have recourse to expiations:
go a suppliant to the temples of the averting deities." It is
sufficient, however, if you propose to yourself the example
of wise and good men, whether alive or dead; and compare
your conduct with theirs. Go to Socrates, and see him lying
by Alcibiades, yet slighting his youth and beauty. Consider
what a victory he was conscious of obtaining I What an
Olympic prize ! In what number did he stand from Hercules? *
So that, by Heaven, one might justly salute him, 5 Hail! in-
credibly great, universal victor ! 6 not those sorry boxers and
wrestlers; nor the gladiators, who resemble them.

5' By placing such an object over against you, you will
conquer any appearance, and not be drawn away by it. But,
in the first place, be not hurried along with it, by its hasty
vehemence: but say, Appearance, wait for me a little. Let
me see what you are, and what you represent. Let me try
you. Then, afterwards, do not suffer it to go on drawing gay
pictures of what will follow: if you do, it will lead you wher-
ever it pleases. But rather oppose to it some good and noble
appearance, and banish this base and sordid one. If you are
habituated to this kind of exercise, you will see what shoulders,
what nerves, what sinews, you will have. But now it is mere
trifling talk, and nothing more. He is the true practitioner
who exercises himself against such appearances as these. Stay,
wretch, do not be hurried away. The combat is great, the
achievement divine; for empire, for freedom, for prosperity,
for tranquillity. Remember God. Invoke him for your aid
and protector, as sailors do Castor and Pollux in a storm. For
what storm is greater than that which arises from violent
appearances, contending to overset our reason? Indeed, what
is the storm itself, but appearance? For, do but take away
the fear of death, and let there be as many thunders and light-
nings as you please, you will find that, in the ruling faculty, all
is serenity and calm: but if you are once defeated, and say
you will get the victory another time, and then the same thing
over again; assure yourself, you will at last be reduced to so
weak and wretched a condition, that you will not so much as
know when you do amiss; but you will even begin to make
defences for your behaviour, and thus verify the saying of
Hesiod:

' With constant ills the dilatory strive."

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CHAPTER XIX

CONCERNING THOSE WHO EMBRACE PHILOSOPHY ONLY
IN WORD

i. THE argument, called the ruling one, concerning which
disputants questioned each other, appears to have its rise from
hence. 1 Of the following propositions, any two imply a con-
tradiction to the third. They are these. That everything past
is necessarily true; that an impossibility is not the consequence
of a possibility ; and that something is a possibility which neither
is nor will be true. Diodorus, perceiving this contradiction,
made use of the probability of the two first to prove that nothing
is possible which neither is nor will be true. Some again hold
the second and third : that something is possible which neither
is nor will be true; and that an impossibility is not the con-
sequence of a possibility: and, consequently, assert that not
everything past is necessarily true. This way Cleanthes and
his followers took ; whom Antipater copiously defends. Others,
lastly, maintain the first and third: that something is possible
which neither is nor will be true; and that every thing past
is necessarily true; but then, that an impossibility may be the
consequence of a possibility. But all these three propositions
cannot be at once maintained, because of their mutual con-
tradiction. If any one should ask me, then, which of them
I maintain: I answer him, that I cannot tell. But I have
heard it related that Diodorus held one opinion about them,
the followers of Panthoides, I think, and Cleanthes, another;
and Chrysippus a third.

What, then, is yours ? 2

None. 3 Nor was I born to examine the appearances of
things to my mind; to compare what is said by others, and
thence to form some principle of my own, as to the topic [which
you mention]. Therefore, [in respect to it,] I am no better
than a grammarian [who repeats what he hath read]. Who
was the father of Hector? Priam. Who were his brothers?
Paris and Deiphobus. Who was his mother? Hecuba. This
I have heard related. From whom? From Homer. But I
believe Hellanicus and other authors have written on the same
subject. And what better account have I of the ruling argu-

Stern Realities 1 1 1

ment? But, if I was vain enough, I might, especially at an
entertainment, 4 astonish all the company by an enumeration
of authors relating to it. Chrysippus hath written wonderfully,
in his first Book, of possibilities. Cleanthes and Archedemus
have each written separately on this subject. Antipater too
hath written, not only in his treatise of possibilities, but pur-
posely in a discourse on the ruling argument. Have not you
read the work? " No." Read it, then. And what good will
it do him? He will be more trifling and impertinent than he
is already. For what else have you gained by reading it?
What principle have you formed upon this subject? But you
tell us of Helen and Priam and the Isle Calypso, which never
was, nor ever will be. And here, indeed, it is of no great con-
sequence if you retain the story, without forming any principle
of your own. But it is our misfortune to do so, much more in
morality than upon such subjects as these.

2. Talk to me concerning good and evil. 5

Hear.

" The wind from Ilium to the Cicon's shore
Hath driven me "

Of things, some are good, some evil, and some indifferent.
Now the good are the virtues, and whatever partakes of them,
and the evil vices, and what partakes of vice; the indifferent
lie between these, as riches, health, life, death, pleasure, pain.

Whence do you know this ?

Hellanicus says it, in his Egyptian history. 6 For what doth
it signify, whether one names the history of Hellanicus, or the
ethics of Diogenes, or Chrysippus, or Cleanthes? Have you,
then, examined any of these things, and formed a principle of
your own? But show me how you are used to exercise yourself
on shipboard. Remember this division, 7 when the mast rattles,
and some idle fellow stands by you while you are screaming, and
says, " For heaven's sake, talk as you did a little while ago.
Is it vice to suffer shipwreck? Or doth it partake of vice? "
Would not you take up a log, and throw it at his head ? " What
have we to do with you, sir? We are perishing, and you come
and jest." Again, if Caesar should summon you to answer
an accusation, remember the division. If, when you are going
in, pale and trembling, any one should meet you, and say,
" Why do you tremble, sir? What is this affair you are
engaged in? Doth Caesar within give virtue and vice to those
who approach him? " " What, do you too insult me, and

1 1 2 The Discourses of Epictetus

add to my evils?" "Nay, but tell me, philosopher, why
you tremble? Is there any other danger but death, or a
prison, or bodily pain, or exile, or defamation? " " Why,
what should there be else? " " Are any of these vice? or do
they partake of vice? What, then, did you yourself use to
say of these things? " " What have you to do with me, sir?
My own evils are enough for me." " You say right. You own
evils are indeed enough for you ; your baseness, your cowardice,
and that arrogance by which you were elated as you sat in the
schools. Why did you plume yourself with what is not your
own? Why did you call yourself a Stoic? "

3. Observe yourselves thus in your actions, and you will
find of what sect you are. You will find that most of you are
Epicureans, a few Peripatetics, and those but loose ones. 8 For,
by what action will you prove that you think virtue equal, and
even superior, to all other things ? Show me a Stoic if you have
one. 9 Where? Or how should you? You can show, indeed,
a thousand who repeat the Stoic reasonings. But do they
repeat the Epicurean worse ! Are they not just as perfect in the
Peripatetic? Who, then, is a Stoic? As we call that a Phidian
statue, which is formed according to the art of Phidias, so show
me some one person, formed according to the principles which he
professes. Show me one who is sick, and happy; in danger,
and happy; dying, and happy; exiled, and happy; disgraced,
and happy. Show him me, for, by heaven, I long to see a
Stoic. But (you will say) you have not one perfectly formed.
Show me, then, one who is forming, one who is approaching
towards this character. Do me this favour. Do not refuse
an old man a sight which he hath never yet seen. Do you
suppose that you are to show the Jupiter or Minerva of Phidias,
a work of ivory or gold? Let any of you show me a human soul,
willing to have the same sentiments with those of God, not to
accuse either God or man, not to be disappointed of its desire,
or incur its aversion, not to be angry, not to be envious, not to
be jealous, in a word, willing from a man to become a God, and,
in this poor mortal body, aiming to have fellowship with Jupiter.
Show him to me. But you cannot. Why, then, do you impose
upon yourselves, and play tricks with others? Why do you
put on a dress not your own; and walk about in it, mere thieves
and pilferers of names and things which do not belong to you ?
Here, I am your preceptor, and you come to be instructed by
me. And indeed my intention is to secure you from being
restrained, compelled, hindered; to make you free, prosperous,

Throw off the Fast 1 1 3

happy; looking to God upon every occasion, great or small.
And you come to learn and study these things. Why then do
not you finish your work, if you have the proper intention, and
I, besides the intention, the proper qualifications? What is
wanting? When I see an artificer, and the materials lying
ready, I expect the work. Now here is the artificer; here are
the materials; what is it we want? Is not the thing capable
of being taught? It is. Is it not in our own power, then?
The only, thing of all others that is so. Neither riches, nor
health, nor fame, nor, in short, anything else, is in our power,
except the right use of the appearances of things. This alone
is, by nature, not subject to restraint, not subject to hindrance.
Why, then, do not you finish it? Tell me the cause. It must
be by my fault, or yours, or from the nature of the thing. The
thing itself is practicable, and the only one in our power. The
fault then must be either in me, or in you, or, more truly, in both.
Well, then, shall we now, at last, bring this intention along with
us? Let us lay aside all that is past. Let us begin. Only
believe me, and you will see the consequence.

CHAPTER XX

CONCERNING THE EPICUREANS AND ACADEMICS

i. TRUE and evident propositions must, of necessity, be used
even by those who contradict them. And, perhaps, one of the
strongest proofs that there is such a thing as evidence, is the
necessity which those who contradict it are under to make use
of it. If a person, for instance, should deny that anything is
universally true, he will be obliged to assert the contrary, that
nothing is universally true. What, wretch, not even this
itself? For what is this but to say, that everything universal
is false? Again, if any one should come and say, " Know that
there is notlung to be known, but all things are uncertain " ;
or another, " Believe me, and it will be the better for you, no
man ought to be believed in anything " ; or a third, " Learn from
me, that nothing is to be learned; I tell you this, and will teach
the proof of it, if you please." Now what difference is there
between such as these, and those who call themselves Academics ?
Who say to us, " Be convinced, that no one ever is convinced.
Believe us, that nobody believes anybody."

1 14 The Discourses of Epictetus

2. Thus also, when Epicurus would destroy the natural
relation of mankind to each other, he makes use of the very
thing he is destroying. For what doth he say? "Be not
deceived, be not seduced and mistaken. There is no natural
relation between reasonable beings. Believe me. Those who
say otherwise mislead and impose upon you." Why are you
concerned for us, then? Let us be deceived. You will fare
never the worse if all the rest of us are persuaded that there is
a natural relation between mankind, and that it is by all means
to be preserved. Nay, it will be much safer and better. Why
do you give yourself any trouble about us, sir? Why do you
break your rest for us? Why do you light your lamp? Why
do you rise early? Why do you compose so many volumes?
Is it that none of us should be deceived concerning the gods ; as
if they took any care of men ? Or that we may not suppose the
essence of good consists in anything but pleasure ? For, if these
things be so, lie down and sleep, and lead the life of which you
judge yourself worthy that of a mere reptile. Eat and drink,
and satisfy your passion for women, and ease yourself, and
snore. What is it to you whether others think right or wrong
about these things? For what have you to do with us? You
take care of sheep, because they afford us their milk, their wool,
and at last their flesh. And would it not be a desirable thing,
that men might be so lulled and enchanted by the Stoics, as to
give themselves up to be milked and fleeced by you, and such
as you ? Should not these doctrines be taught to your brother
Epicureans only, and concealed from the rest of the world; who
should by all means above all things be persuaded that we have
a natural relation to each other, and that temperance is a good
thing, in order that all may be kept safe for you? Or is this
relation to be preserved towards some, and not towards others ?
Towards whom, then, is it to be preserved? Towards such as
mutually preserve, or such as violate it? And who violate it
more than you, who teach such doctrines ?

3. What was it, then, that waked Epicurus from his sleep,
and compelled him to write what he did ? What else but that
which is of all others the most powerful in mankind, nature;
which draws every one, however unwilling and reluctant, to
its own purposes ? For since, says she, you think that there is
no relation between mankind, write this doctrine, and leave it
for the use of others, and break your sleep upon that account;
and, by your own practice, confute your own principles. Do
we say that Orestes was roused from sleep by the agitation of

Piety and Sanctity 1 1 5

the Furies ; and was not Epicurus waked by Furies more cruel
and avenging, which would not suffer him to rest, but compelled
him to divulge his own evils, as wine and madness do the priests
of Cybele? So strong and unconquerable a thing is human
nature ! For how can a vine have the properties not of a vine,
but of an olive tree ? Or an olive tree not those of an olive tree,
but of a vine ? It is impossible. It is inconceivable. Neither,
therefore, is it possible for a human creature entirely to lose
human affections. But even those who have undergone a
mutilation cannot have their inclinations also mutilated: and
so Epicurus, when he had mutilated all the offices of a man, of
a master of a family, of a citizen, and of a friend, did not mutilate
the inclinations of humanity, for he could not, any more than
the idle Academics can throw away, or blind their own senses,
though this be, of all others, the point they labour most. What
a misfortune is it when any one, after having received from
nature standards and rules for the knowledge of truth, doth not
strive to add to these, and make up their deficiencies; but, on
the contrary, endeavours to take away and destroy whatever
truth may be known even by them !

4. What say you, philosopher? What do you think of
piety and sanctity? If you please, I will prove that they are
good. Pray, do prove it, that our citizens may be converted l
and honour the deity, and may no longer neglect what is of the
highest importance. Have you the proofs, then? I have, and
I thank you. Since you are so well pleased with this, then,
learn the contrary : that there are no gods, or, if there are, that
they take no care of mankind, neither have any concern with
them; that this piety and sanctity, which is so much talked of
by many, is only an imposition of boasting and sophistical men;
or, perhaps, of legislators, for a terror and restraint to injustice.
Well done, philosopher. Our citizens are much the better
for you. You have already brought back all the youth to a
contempt of the deity. What! doth not this please you, then?
Learn next, that justice is nothing; that shame is folly; that
the paternal relation is nothing, the filial nothing. Well said,
philosopher; persist, convince the youth, that we may have
many more to think and talk like you. By such doctrines as
these have our well-governed states flourished! Upon these
was Sparta founded! Lycurgus, by his laws and method of
education, introduced such persuasions as these: that it is just
as honourable, as it is dishonourable, to be slaves; and just as
dishonourable, as honourable, to be free! They who died at

1 1 6 The Discourses of Epictetus

Thermopylae, died from such principles as these! And from
what other doctrines did the Athenians leave their city? a

5. And yet, they who talk thus marry, and produce children ;
and engage in public affairs, and get themselves made priests
and prophets (of whom? Of gods that have no existence);
and consult the Pythian priestess, only to hear falsehoods, and
interpret the oracles to others. What monstrous impudence
and imposture !

6. 3 What are you doing, man? You contradict yourself
every day, and yet you will not give up these paltry cavils.
When you eat, where do you carry your hand? To your
mouth, or to your eye? When you bathe, where do you go?
Do you ever call a kettle a dish; or a spoon, a spit? If I were
a servant to one of these gentlemen, were it at the hazard of
being flayed every day, I would plague him. " Throw some
oil into the bath, boy." I would take pickle and pour upon his
head. " What is this? " Really, sir, an appearance struck me
so perfectly alike, as not to be distinguished from oil. " Give
me the soup." I would carry him a dish full of vinegar. " Did
not I ask for the soup? " Yes, sir, this is the soup. " Is not
this vinegar? " Why so, more than soup? " Take it and
smell to it; take it and taste it." " How do you know, then,
but our senses deceive us? " If I had three or four fellow-
servants to join with me, I would make him either choke with
passion and burst, or change his opinions. But now they
insult us by making use of the gifts of nature, while in words
they destroy them. Grateful and modest men, truly 1 who,
if there were nothing else in the case, while they are eating
their daily bread dare to say, " We do not know whether
there be any Ceres, or Proserpine, or Pluto." 4 Not to mention
that while they enjoy the night and day, the seasons of the
year, the stars, the earth and sea, they are not the least affected
by any of these things, but only study to throw out some idle
problem; and, when they have cleared their stomachs, go and
bathe: but take not the least care what they say; nor on
what subjects; nor to whom; nor what may be the consequence
of their talk ; whether any well-disposed young man by hearing
such doctrines may not be affected by them, and so affected as
entirely to lose the seeds of his good disposition; whether they
may not furnish an adulterer with occasions of growing shame-
less in his guilt; whether a public plunderer may not find
excuses from these doctrines; whether he who neglects his
parents may not gain an additional confidence from them. 6

Human Inconsistencies 117

" What, then, in your opinion, is good and evil, fair and base; 6
such things, or such things? " Why should one say any more
against such creatures as these, or give them any account, or
receive any from them, or endeavour to convince them? By
Jupiter, one might sooner hope to convince the most unnatural
debauchees, than those who are thus deaf and blind to their
own evils. 7

CHAPTER XXI

OF INCONSISTENCY

r. THERE are some things which men confess with ease;
others, with difficulty. No one, for instance, will confess him-
self a fool, or a blockhead; but, on the contrary, you will hear
every one say, " I wish my fortune was equal to my mind."
But they easily confess themselves fearful, and say, " I am
somewhat timorous, I confess; but in other respects you will
not find me a fool." No one will easily confess himself intem-
perate in his desires ; upon no account dishonest, nor absolutely
very envious, or meddling; but many confess themselves to
have the weakness of being compassionate. What is the reason
of all this? The principal is, an inconsistency and confusion
in what relates to good and evil. But different people have
different inducements. In general, whatever they imagine to
be base they do not absolutely confess. Fear and compassion
they imagine to belong to a well-meaning disposition; but
stupidity to a slave. Offences against society they do not own;
but, in most faults, they are brought to a confusion chiefly
from imagining that there is something involuntary in them,
as in fear and compassion. And, though a person 1 should in
some measure confess himself intemperate in his desires, he
accuses his passion, and expects forgiveness as for an involuntary
fault. But dishonesty is not imagined to be, by any means,
involuntary. In jealousy, too, there is something, they suppose,
of involuntary; and this likewise, in some degree, they confess.
2. Conversing among such men, therefore, thus confused,
thus ignorant what they say, what are or are not their evils,
whence they have them, and how they may be delivered of them,
it is worth while, I think, to ask one's self continually, " Am I,
too, one of these? What do I imagine myself to be? How

1 1 8 The Discourses of Epictetus

do I conduct myself? As a prudent, as a temperate man?
Do I, too, ever talk at this rate, that I am sufficiently instructed
for what may happen? Have I that persuasion, that I know
nothing, which becomes one who knows nothing? Do I go
to a master, as to an oracle, prepared to obey ; or do I, as well
as others, like a stupid driveller, 2 enter the school only to learn
the history [of philosophy], and understand books which I
did not understand before; or, perhaps, to explain them to
others? " 3 You have been fighting at home with your servant,
sir; you have turned the house upside-down, and alarmed
the neighbourhood; and 1 do you come to me with a pompous
show of wisdom, and sit and pass judgment how I explain a
sentence? How I prate whatever comes into my head? Do
you come, envious and dejected that nothing is brought you
from home? And, in the midst of the disputations, sit thinking
on nothing but how your father or your brother may behave
to you? " What are they saying about me at home? Now
they think I am improving; and say, He will come back with
universal knowledge. I wish I could learn everything before
my return; but this requires much labour; and nobody sends
me anything. The baths are very bad at Nicopolis ; and things
go very ill both at home and here."

3. After all this it is said nobody is the better for the philo-
sophic school. Why, who comes to the school? I mean, who
comes to be reformed? Who to submit his principles to
correction? Who with a sense of his wants? Why do you
wonder, then, that you bring back from the school the very
thing you carried there? For you do not come to lay aside,
or correct, or change your principles. How should you ? Far
from it. Rather consider this, therefore, whether you have
not what you come for. You come to talk about theorems.
Well; and are not you more impertinently talkative than
you were? Do not these paltry theorems furnish you with
matter for ostentation? Do not you solve convertible and
hypothetical syllogisms? Why, then, are you still displeased
if you have the very thing for which you came? " Very
true; but if my child or my brother should die, or if I must
die or be tortured myself, what good will these things do
me? " Why, did you come for this? Did you attend upon
me for this? Was it upon any such account that you ever
lighted your lamp, or sat up at night? Or did you, when you
went into the walk, propose any appearance to your own mind
to be discussed instead of a syllogism? Did any of you ever

Friendship 119

go through such a subject jointly? And, after all, you say
theorems are useless. To whom? To such as apply them ill.
For medicines for the eyes are not useless to those who apply
them when and as they ought. Fomentations are not useless ;
poisers are not useless; but they are useless to some, and, on
the contrary, useful to others. If you should ask me now,
Are syllogisms useful? I answer, that they are useful; and, if
you please, I will show you how. 4 " Will they be of service
to me, then? " Why, did you ask, man, whether they would
be useful to you, or in general? If any one in a dysentery
should ask me whether acids be useful, I answer, They are.
" Are they useful for me, then? " I say, No. First try to get
the flux stopped, and the exulceration healed. Do you, too,
first get your ulcers healed; your fluxes stopped. Quiet your
mind, and bring it free from distraction to the school, and then
you will know what is the force of reasoning.

CHAPTER XXII

OF FRIENDSHIP

i. To whatever objects a person devotes his attention, these
objects he probably loves. Do men ever devote their attention,
then, to evils? By no means. Or even to what doth not
concern them? No, nor this. It remains, then, that good
must be the sole object of their attention; and, if of their
attention, of their love too. Whoever, therefore, understands
good is capable likewise of love ; and he who cannot distinguish
good from evil, and things indifferent from both, how is it
possible that he can love ? The prudent person alone, then, is
capable of loving.

How so? I am not this prudent person, yet I love my child.

I protest it surprises me that you should, in the first place,
confess yourself imprudent. For in what are you deficient?
Have you not the use of your senses? Do not you distinguish
the appearance of things? Do not you provide such food
and clothing and habitation as are suitable to you ? Why, then,
do you confess that you want prudence? In truth, because
you are often struck and disconcerted by appearances, and their
speciousness gets the better of you ; and hence you sometimes

1 20 The Discourses of Epictetus

suppose the very same things to be good, then evil, and lastly,
neither; and, in a word, you grieve, you fear, you envy, you are
disconcerted, you change. Is it from hence that you confess
yourself imprudent? And are you not changeable too in love?
Riches, pleasure, in short, the very same things, you at some
times esteem good, and at others evil; and do not you esteem
the same persons, too, alternately good and bad? And at one
time treat them with kindness, at another with enmity? one
time commend, and at another censure them?

Yes. This too is the case with me.

Well, then, can he who is deceived in another be his friend,
think you ?

No, surely.

Or doth he who loves him with a changeable affection bear
him genuine goodwill?

Nor he, neither.

Or he, who now vilifies, then admires him?

Nor he.

Do you not often see little dogs caressing and playing with
each other, that you would say nothing could be more friendly ;
but, to learn what this friendship is, throw a bit of meat between
them, and you will see. Do you too throw a bit of an estate
betwixt you and your son, and you will see that he will quickly
wish you underground, and you him: and then you, no doubt,
on the other hand, will exclaim, What a son have I brought up 1
He would bury me alive ! Throw in a pretty girl, and the old
fellow and the young one will both fall in love with her; or let
fame or danger intervene, the words of the father of Admetus
will be yours : 1

" You hold life dear; doth not your father too? "

Do you suppose that he did not love his own child when he
was a little one? That he was not in agonies when he had a
fever, and often wished to undergo that fever in his stead?
But, after all, when the trial comes home, you see what ex-
pressions he uses. Were not Eteocles and Polynices born of
the same mother and of the same father? Were they not
brought up, and did they not live and eat and sleep, together?
Did not they kiss and fondle each other? So that any one who
saw them would have laughed at all the paradoxes which
philosophers utter about love. And yet, when a kingdom,
like a bit of meat, was thrown betwixt them, see what they say,
and how eagerly they wish to kill each other. 2 For universally,

Who is My Brother ? 121

be not deceived, no animal is attached to anything so strongly
as to its own interest. Whatever therefore appears a hindrance
to that be it brother, or father, or child, or mistress, or friend
is hated, abhorred, execrated ; for by nature it loves nothing
like its own interest. This is father, and brother, and family,
and country, and God. 3 Whenever, therefore, the gods seem
to hinder this, we vilify even them, and throw down their
statues and burn their temples, as Alexander ordered the
temple of ^Esculapius to be burnt, because he had lost the man
he loved.

2. Whenever, therefore, any one makes his interest to
consist in the same thing with sanctity, virtue, his country,
parents, and friends, all these are secured; but wherever they
are made to interfere, friends, and country, and family, and
justice itself, all give way, borne down by the weight of self-
interest. For wherever / and mine are placed, thither must
every animal gravitate. If in body, that will sway us; if in
choice, that; if in externals, these. If, therefore, I be placed in
a right choice, then only I shall be a friend, a son, or a father,
such as I ought. For in that case it will be for my interest to
preserve the faithful, the modest, the patient, the abstinent, the
beneficent character; to keep the relations of life inviolate.
But, if I place myself in one thing, and virtue in another, the
doctrine of Epicurus will stand its ground, That virtue is
nothing, or mere opinion. 4

3. From this ignorance it was that the Athenians and
Lacedemonians quarrelled with each other; and the Thebans
with both: the Persian king with Greece; and the Mace-
donians with both : and now the Romans with the Getes. And
in still remoter times, the Trojan war arose from the same
t cause. Paris was the guest of Menelaus; and whoever had
'seen the mutual proofs of goodwill that passed between them
would never have believed that they were not friends. But a
tempting bit, a pretty woman, was thrown in between them;
and for this they went to war. At present, therefore, when
you see dear brothers have, in appearance, but one soul, do
not immediately pronounce upon their friendship ; not though
they should swear it, and affirm it was impossible to live asunder.
(For the governing faculty of a bad man is faithless, unsettled,
injudicious; successively vanquished by different appearances.)
But inquire, not as others do, whether they were born of the
same parents, and brought up together, and under the same
preceptor; but this thing only, in what they place their interest

122 The Discourses of Epictetus

in externals, or in choice. If in externals, no more call them
friends, than faithful, or constant, or brave, or free; nay, nor
even men, if you are wise. For it is no principle of humanity
that makes them bite and vilify each other, and take possession
of public assemblies as wild beasts do of solitudes and mountains ;
and convert courts of justice into dens of robbers; nor that
prompts them to be intemperate, adulterers, seducers; or
leads them into other offences that men commit against each
other, from the one single principle by which they place
themselves and their own concerns in things independent on
choice.

4. But if you hear that these men in reality suppose good to
be placed only in choice, and in a right use of the appearances
of things, no longer take the trouble of inquiring if they are
father and son, or old companions and acquaintance; but as
boldly pronounce that they are friends, as that they are faithful
and just. For where else can friendship be met but with
fidelity and modesty, and a communication 5 of virtue; and
of no other thing ?

Well; but such a one paid me the utmost regard for so long a
time, and did not he love me ?

How can you tell, wretch, if that regard be any other than he
pays to his shoes, or his horse, when he cleans them? And
how do you know but when you cease to be a necessary utensil,
he may throw you away, like a broken stool?

Well; but it is my wife, and we have lived together many
years.

And how many did Eriphyle live with Amphiaraus, and was
the mother of children, and not a few? But a bracelet fell in
between them. What was this bracelet? The principle [she
had formed] concerning such things. This turned her into a
savage animal; this cut asunder all love, and suffered neither
the wife nor the mother to continue such. 8

5. Whoever, therefore, among you studies to be or to gain
a friend, let him cut up all these principles by the root; hate
them; drive them utterly out of his soul. Thus, in the first
place, he will be secure from inward reproaches and contests;
from change of mind and self-torment. Then, with respect to
others: to every one like himself he will be unreserved. To
such as are unlike he will be patient, mild, gentle, and ready to
forgive them, as failing in points of the greatest importance:
but severe to none; being fully convinced of Plato's doctrine,
That the soul is never willingly deprived of truth. Without

The Supreme Faculty 123

all this you may, in many respects, live as friends do; and drink
and lodge and travel together; and be born of the same parents;
and so may 7 serpents too; but neither they nor you can ever
be friends, while you have these brutal and execrable principles.

CHAPTER XXIII

OF THE FACULTY OF SPEAKING

i. A BOOK will always be read with the greater pleasure, and
ease too, if it be written in a fair character ; therefore every one
will the more easily attend to discourses, likewise ornamented
with proper and beautiful expressions. It 1 ought not, then, to
be said that there is no such thing as the faculty of elocution:
for this would be at once the part of an impious and fearful
person. 2 Impious, because he dishonours the gifts of God;
just as if he should deny any use in the faculty of sight, hearing,
and speech itself. Hath God, then, given you eyes in vain?
Is it in vain that he hath infused into them such a strong and
active spirit as to be able to represent the forms of distant
objects? 3 What messenger is so quick and diligent? Is it
in vain that he hath made the intermediate air so yielding and
elastic that the sight penetrates through it? And is it in vain
that he hath made the light, without which all the rest would
be useless? Man, be not ungrateful; nor, on the other hand,
unmindful of your superior advantages; 4 but for sight and
hearing, and indeed for life itself, and the supports of it, as
fruits, and wine, and oil, be thankful to God: but remember,
that he hath given you another thing, superior to them all;
which makes use of them, proves them, estimates the value of
each. 5 For what is it that pronounces upon the value of each
of these faculties? Is it the faculty itself? Did you ever
perceive the faculty of sight or hearing to say anything con-
cerning itself? Or wheat, or barley, or horses, or dogs? No.
These things are appointed as instruments and servants, to
obey that which is capable of using the appearances of things.
If you inquire the value of anything, of what do you inquire?
What is it that answers you ? 6 How, then, can any faculty be
superior to this, which both uses all the rest as instruments and
tries and pronounces concerning each of them? For which of

1 24 The Discourses of Epictetus

them knows what itself is, and what is its own value ? Which of
them knows when it is to be used, and when not? Which is it
that opens and shuts the eyes, and turns them away from
improper objects? Is it the faculty of sight? No; but that
of choice. Which is it that opens and shuts the ears? What
is it by which they are made curious and inquisitive; or, on
the contrary, deaf, and unaffected by what is said? Is it the
faculty of hearing? No; but that of choice. Will this, then,
perceiving itself to exist in [man amidst] the other faculties,
which are all blind and deaf, and unable to discern anything
but those offices in which they are appointed to minister and be
subservient to it; and that itself alone sees clearly, and dis-
tinguishes the value of each of the rest; will this, I say, inform
us that anything is supreme but itself? What doth the eye,
when it is opened, do more, than see? But whether we ought
to look upon the wife of any one, and in what manner, what
is it that tells us ? The faculty of choice. Whether we ought
to believe, or to disbelieve, what is said; or whether, if we do
believe, we ought to be moved by it or not; what is it that tells
us? Is it not the faculty of choice? Again, the very faculty
of elocution, and that which ornaments discourse, if there be
any such peculiar faculty, what doth it more than merely orna-
ment and arrange expressions, as curlers do the hair? But
whether it be better to speak or to be silent; or better to speak
in this or in that manner; whether this be decent or indecent;
and the season and use of each; what is it that tells us but the
faculty of choice? What then, would you have it appear and
bear testimony against itself? What means this? If the case
be thus, that which serves may be superior to that to which it
is subservient; the horse to the rider; the dog to the hunter;
the instrument to the musician; or servants to the king.
What is it that makes use of all the rest? Choice. What takes
care of all? Choice. What destroys the whole man, at one
time by hunger; at another by a rope or a precipice? Choice.
Hath man, then, anything stronger than this? And how is it
possible, that what is liable to restraint should be stronger than
what is not? What hath a natural power of hindering the
faculty of sight? Both choice, and what depends on choice.
And it is the same of the faculties of hearing and speech. And
what hath a natural power of hindering choice? Nothing
independent on itself, only its own perversion. Therefore
choice alone is vice ; choice alone is virtue.
2. Since, then, choice is such a faculty, and placed in

A Right Choice 125

authority over all the rest, let it come forth and say to us that
the body is, of all things, the most excellent. If even the body
itself pronounced itself to be the most excellent, it could not be
borne. But now, what is it, Epicurus, that pronounces all this ?
What was it that composed volumes concerning The End of
Being, The Nature of Things, The Rule [of Reasoning] ; 7 that
assumed a philosophic beard ; that, as it was dying, wrote that
it was then spending its last and happiest day ? 8 Was this
body, or was it the faculty of choice? And can you, then,
without madness, confess anything superior to this? Are
you in reality so deaf and blind? What then, doth any one
dishonour the other faculties? Heaven forbid! Doth any
one deny that the faculty of sight 9 is useful and preferable to
the want of it? Heaven forbid 1 It would be stupid, impious,
and ungrateful to God. But we render to each its due. There
is some use of an ass, though not so much as of an ox; and of a
dog, though not so much as of a servant; and of a servant,
though not so much as of the citizens; and of the citizens,
though not so much as of the magistrates. And, though some
are more excellent than others, those uses which the last afford
are not to be despised. The faculty of elocution hath its value,
though not equal to that of choice. When, therefore, I talk
thus, let not any one suppose that I would have you neglect
elocution, any more than your eyes or ears or hands or feet or
clothes or shoes. But if you ask me what is the most excellent
of things, what shall I say? I cannot say elocution, but a
right choice ; for it is that which makes use of this and all the
other faculties, whether great or small. If this be set right, a
bad man becomes good; if it be wrong, a good man becomes
wicked. By this we are unfortunate, fortunate; we disapprove
or approve each other. In a word, it is this which, neglected,
forms unhappiness, and, well cultivated, happiness.

3. But to take away the faculty of elocution, and to say that
it is in reality nothing, is not only ungrateful to those who gave
it, but cowardly too. For such a person seems to me to be
afraid that, if there be any such faculty, we may not on occasion
be able to treat it with contempt. Such are they, too, who deny
any difference between beauty and deformity. Was it possible,
then, to be affected in the same manner by seeing Thersites as
Achilles, or Helen as any 10 other woman? There also are the
foolish and clownish notions of those who are ignorant of the
nature of things, and afraid that whoever perceives a difference
must presently be carried away and overcome. But the great

126 The Discourses of Epictetus

point is to leave to each thing its own proper faculty, and then
to see what the value of that faculty is, and to learn what is the
principal thing; and upon every occasion, to follow that and
to make it the chief object of our attention; to consider other
things as trifling in comparison of this; and yet, as far as we
are able, not to neglect even these. We ought, for instance, to
take care of our eyes ; but not as of the principal thing, but only
on account of the principal; because that will no otherwise
preserve its own nature, than by making a due estimation of the
rest, and preferring some to others. What is the usual practice,
then? That of a traveller, who, returning into his own country,
and meeting on the road with a good inn, being pleased with the
inn, should remain at the inn. Have you forgot your intention,
man? You were not travelling to this place, but only through
it. " But this is a fine place. " And how many other fine inns
are there, and how many pleasant fields? But only to be
passed through in your way. The business is, to return to
your country, to relieve the anxieties of your family, to perform
the duties of a citizen, to marry, have children, and go through
the public offices. For you did not set out to choose the finest
places, but to return to live in that where you were born, and of
which you are appointed a citizen.

4. Such is the present case. Because by speech and verbal
precepts we are to arrive at perfection, and purify our own
choice, and rectify that faculty of which the office is the use of
the appearances of things; and because for the delivery of
theorems a certain manner of expression, and some variety and
subtilty of discourse, becomes necessary ; many, captivated by
these very things one by expression, another by syllogisms, a
third by convertible propositions, just as our traveller was by
the good inn go no further, but sit down and waste their lives
shamefully there, as if amongst the sirens. Your business,
man, was to prepare yourself for such an use of the appearances
of things as nature demands: not to be frustrated of your
desires, or incur your aversions; never to be disappointed or
unfortunate, but free, unrestrained, uncompelled; conformed
to the administration of Jupiter, obedient to that, finding fault
with nothing, but able to say from your whole soul the verses
which begin,

" Conduct me, Jove; and thou, O Destiny."

While you have such a business before you, will you be so
pleased with a pretty form of expression, or a few theorems,

The Hearing Ear 127

as to choose to stay and live with them, forgetful of your home,
and say, " They are fine things 1 " Why, who says they are not
fine things ? But only as a passage ; as an inn. For, could you
speak like Demosthenes, what hinders but that you might be a
disappointed wretch? Could you resolve syllogisms like Chry-
sippus, what hinders but that you might be miserable, sorrow-
ful, envious, in short, disturbed, unhappy ? Nothing. You see,
then, that these are mere inns of small value; and that your
point in view is quite another thing. When I talk thus to
some, they suppose that I am overthrowing all care about
speaking, and about theorems: but I do not overthrow that;
only the resting in these things without end, and placing our
hopes there. If any one, by maintaining this, hurts an audience,
place me amongst those hurtful people; for I cannot, when I
see one thing to be the principal and most excellent, call another
so, to gain your favour.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCERNING A PERSON WHOM HE TREATED WITH DISREGARD

i. WHEN a certain person said to him, " I have often come to
you with a desire of hearing you, and you have never given me
any answer; but now, if possible, I entreat you to say some-
thing to me " : Do you think, replied Epictetus, that, as in
other things, so in speaking, there is an art by which he who
understands it speaks skilfully, and he who doth not, unskil-
fully?

I do think so.

He, then, who by speaking both benefits himself and is able
to benefit others, must speak skilfully ; but he who rather hurts,
and is hurt, must be unskilful in this art of speaking. For you
may find some speakers hurt, and others benefited. And are
all hearers benefited by what they hear? Or will you find some
benefited, and some hurt? l

Both.

Then those who hear skilfully are benefited, and those who
hear unskilfully, hurt.

Granted.

Is there an art of hearing, then, as well as of speaking?

128 The Discourses of Epictetus

It seems so.

If you please, consider it thus too. To whom do you think
the practice of music belongs ?

To a musician.

To whom the proper formation of a statue ?

To a statuary.

And do not you imagine some art necessary to view a statue
skilfully?

I do.

If, therefore, to speak properly belongs to one who is skilful,
do not you see, that to hear with benefit belongs likewise to one
who is skilful? For the present, however, if you please, let us
say no more of doing things perfectly, and with benefit, since
we are both far enough from anything of that kind; but this
seems to be universally confessed, that he who would hear
philosophers needs some kind of exercise in hearing. Is it not
so? Tell me, then, on what I shall speak to you? On what
subject are you able to hear me? 2

On good and evil.

The good and evil of what? Of a horse?

No.

Of an ox ?

No.

What then, of a man ?

Yes.

Do we know, then, what man is ? What is his nature ; what
our idea of him is; and how far our ears are open in respect
to this matter? 8 Nay, do you understand what nature is;
or are you able, and in what degree, to comprehend me, when
I come to say, " But I must use demonstration to you " ?
How should you? Do you comprehend what demonstration
is; or how a thing is demonstrated, or by what methods; or
what resembles a demonstration, and yet is not a demonstration ?
Do you know what true or false is? What is consequent to a
thing, and what contradictory? Or unsuitable, or dissonant?
But I must excite you to philosophy. How shall I show you
that contradiction among the generality of mankind, by which
they differ concerning good and evil, profitable and unpro-
fitable, when you know not what contradiction means ? Show
me, then, what I shall gain by discoursing with you? Excite
an inclination in me, as a proper pasture excites an inclination
to eating in a sheep : for if you offer him a stone, or a piece of
bread, he will not be excited. Thus we too have certain natural

Ignorance the Root of all Error 129

inclinations to speaking, when the hearer appears to be some-
body; when he gives us encouragement: but if he sits by,
like a stone or a tuft of grass, how can he excite any desire in
a man? Doth a vine say to an husbandman, " Take care
of me "? No; but invites him to take care of it, by showing
him that if he doth, it will reward him for his care. Who is
there whom engaging sprightly children do not invite to play,
and creep, and prattle with them? But who was ever taken
with an inclination to divert himself, or bray, with an ass?
For, be the creature ever so little, it is still a little ass.

2. Why do you say nothing to me, then?

I have only this to say to you: That whoever is ignorant
what he is, and wherefore he was born, and in what kind of a
world, and in what society; what things are good, and what
evil; what fair, and what base: who understands neither
discourse nor demonstration; nor what is true nor what is
false ; nor is able to distinguish between them : such a one will
neither exert his desires, nor aversions, nor pursuits, conform-
ably to nature: he will neither intend, nor assent, nor deny,
nor suspend his judgment conformably to nature: but will
wander up and down entirely deaf and blind, supposing himself
to be somebody, 4 while he is in reality nobody. Is there any-
thing new in all this? Is not this ignorance the cause of all
the errors that have happened from the very original of man-
kind? Why did Agamemnon and Achilles differ? Was it
not for want of knowing what is advantageous, what disad-
vantageous? Doth not one of them say, It is advantageous
to restore Chrysei's to her father; the other, that it is not?
Doth not one say, that he ought to take away the prize of the
other; the other, that he ought not? Did they not, by these
means, forget who they were, and for what purpose they had
come there? Why, what did you come for, man; to gain a
mistress or to fight? " To fight." With whom? With the
Trojans or Greeks? "With the Trojans." Leaving Hector,
then, do you draw your sword upon your own king? And
do you, good sir, forgetting the duties of a king,

Intrusted with a nation, and its cares,

go to squabbling about a girl with the bravest of your allies,
whom you ought by every method to conciliate and preserve?
And will you be inferior to a subtle priest, who pays his court
with the utmost care to you fine gladiators ? You see the effects
which ignorance of what is advantageous produces. " But I

1 30 The Discourses of Epictetus

am rich [you may say], as well as other people." What,
richer than Agamemnon? "But I am handsome too."
What, handsomer than Achilles? " But I have fine hair too.' 1
Had not Achilles finer and brighter? Yet he neither combed
it nicely, nor curled it. " But I am strong too." Can you
lift such a stone, then, as Hector or Ajax? " But I am of
a noble family too." Is your mother a goddess, or your father
descended from Jupiter? And what good did all this do
Achilles, when he sat crying for a girl? " But I am an orator."
And was not he? Do not you see how he treated the most
eloquent of the Greeks, Phoenix and Ulysses? How he struck
them dumb? This is all I have to say to you; and even this
against my inclination.

Why so?

Because you have given me no encouragement. For what
can I see in you to encourage me as spirited horses do their
riders? Your person? That you disfigure. Your dress?
That is effeminate. Your behaviour ? Your look ? Absolutely
nothing. When you would hear a philosopher, do not say to
him, " You tell me nothing "; but only show yourself worthy,
or fit to hear; and you will find how you move him to speak.

CHAPTER XXV

THAT LOGIC IS NECESSARY

WHEN one of the company said to him, " Convince me that
logic is necessary " : Would you have me demonstrate it to
you? says he. "Yes." Then I must use a demonstrative
form of argument. " Granted." And how will you know
then whether I argue sophistically ? On this, the man being
silent: You see, says he, that even by your own confession,
logic is necessary; since, without its assistance, you cannot
learn so much as whether it be necessary or not.

Errors in Life 1 3 1

CHAPTER XXVI

WHAT IS THE PROPERTY OF ERRORS IN LIFE

i. EVERY error in life implies a contradiction: for, since he
who errs doth not mean to err, but to be in the right, it is
evident that he acts contrary to his meaning. What doth
a thief mean? His own interest. If, then, thieving be against
his interest, he acts contrary to his own meaning. Now every
rational soul is naturally averse to self-contradiction: but so
long as any one is ignorant that it is a contradiction, nothing
restrains him from acting contradictorily: but, whenever he
discovers it, he must as necessarily renounce and avoid it, as
any one must dissent from a falsehood whenever he perceives
it to be a falsehood : but while this doth not appear, he assents
to it as to a truth.

2. He, then, is an able speaker, and excels at once in ex-
hortation and conviction, who can discover to each man the
contradiction by which he errs, and prove clearly to him, that
what he would, he doth not; and what he would not do, that
he doth. 1 For if that be shown, he will depart from it of his
own accord: but till you have shown it, be not surprised that
he remains where he is: for he doth it on the appearance that
he acts rightly. 2 Hence Socrates, relying on this faculty, used
to say, " It is not my custom to cite any other witness of my
assertions; but I am always contented with my opponent. I
call and summon him for my witness ; and his single evidence is
instead of all others." 3 For he knew that if a rational soul
be moved by anything, the scale must turn whether it will or
no." 4 Show the governing faculty of reason a contradiction,
and it will renounce it: but, till you have shown it, rather
blame yourself than him who is unconvinced.

END OF THE SECOND BOOK

BOOK III
CHAPTER I

OF FINERY IN DRESS

i. A CERTAIN young rhetorician coming to him with his
hair too curiously ornamented, and his dress very fine, Tell
me, says Epictetus, whether you do not think some horses
and dogs beautiful, and so of all other animals ?

I do.

Are some men then likewise beautiful, and others deformed ?

Certainly.

Do we call each of these beautiful then in its kind, on the
same account, or on some account peculiar to itself? You
will judge of it by this: since we see a dog naturally formed
for one thing, a horse for another, and a nightingale, for instance,
for another, in general, it will not be absurd to pronounce each
of them beautiful, so far as it is in the condition most suitable
to its own nature; but, since the nature of each is different, I
think each of them must be beautiful in a different way. Is it
not so?

Agreed.

Then, what makes a dog beautiful, makes a horse deformed
and what makes a horse beautiful, a dog deformed, if their
natures are different.

So it seems probable.

For, I suppose, what makes a good pancratiast 1 makes no
good wrestler, and a very ridiculous racer; and the very same
person who appears beautiful as a pentathlete l would appear
very deformed in wrestling.

Very true.

What then makes a man beautiful? Is it the same, in
general, that makes a dog or a horse so?

The same.

What is it then that makes a dog beautiful?

That excellency which belongs to a dog.

What a horse?

132

Finery in Dress 133

The excellency of a horse.

What a man? Must it not be the excellency belonging to a
man? If then you would appear beautiful, young man, strive
for human excellency.

What is that?

Consider, when you praise without partial affection, whom
you praise : is it the honest, or the dishonest ?

The honest.

The sober or the dissolute?

The sober.

The temperate or the intemperate ?

The temperate.

Then, if you make yourself such a character, you know that
you will make yourself beautiful; but, while you neglect these
things, though you use every contrivance to appear beautiful,
you must necessarily be deformed.

2. I know not how to say anything further to you; for if I
speak what I think, you will be vexed, and perhaps go away and
return no more. And if I do not speak, consider how I shall
act: if you come to me to be improved, and I do not improve
you; and you come to me as to a philosopher, and I do not
speak like a philosopher. 2 Besides, how could it be consistent
with my duty towards yourself, to overlook and leave you un-
corrected? If hereafter you should come to have sense, you
will accuse me, with reason: " What did Epictetus observe in
me, that when he saw me come to him in such a shameful con-
dition, he overlooked it, and never said so much as a word of it ?
Did he so absolutely despair of me ? Was not I young ? Was
not I able to hear reason? How many young men at that age
are guilty of many such errors ? I am told of one Polemo, who
from a most dissolute youth became totally changed. 3 Suppose
he did not think I should become a Polemo, he might however
have set my locks to right; he might have stripped off my
bracelets and rings, he might have prevented my picking off the
hairs from my person. But when he saw me dressed like a
what shall I say? he was silent." I do not say like what;
when you come to your senses, you will say it yourself, and will
know what it is, and who they are who study such a dress.

3. If you should hereafter lay this to my charge, what
excuse could I make ? Ay, but if I do speak, he will not regard
me. Why did Laius regard Apollo? Did not he go and get
drunk, and bid farewell to the oracle? What then? Did this
hinder Apollo from telling him the truth? Now, I am uncertain

F404

1 34 The Discourses of Epictetus

whether you will regard me or not, but Apollo positively knew
that Laius would not regard him, and yet he spoke. 4 " And
why did he speak? " You may as well ask, Why is he Apollo,
why doth he deliver oracles, why hath he placed himself in such
a post as a prophet and the fountain of truth, to whom the
inhabitants of the world should resort? Why is Know Thyself
inscribed on the front of his temple, when no one minds it?

4. Did Socrates prevail on all who came to him, to take care
of themselves? Not on the thousandth part; but however,
being, as he himself declares, divinely appointed to such a post,
he never deserted it. What doth he say even to the judges?
" If you would acquit me, on condition that I should no longer
act as I do now, I will not accept it, nor desist, but I will accost
all I meet, whether young or old, and interrogate them just in
the same manner, but particularly you, my fellow-citizens, as
you are more nearly related to me." " Are you so curious and
officious, Socrates? What is it to you how we act? " " What
do you say? While you are of the same community, and the
same kindred with me, shall you be careless of yourself, and show
yourself a bad citizen to the city, a bad kinsman to your kindred,
and a bad neighbour to your neighbourhood? " " Why, who
are you ? " Here it is a great thing to say, " I am he who ought
to take care of mankind"; for it is not every little paltry
heifer that dares resist the lion; but if the bull should come up
and resist him, say to him, if you think proper, Who are you?
What business is it of yours? In every species, man, there is
some one part which by nature excels ; in oxen, in dogs, in bees,
in horses. Do not say to what excels, Who are you? If you
do, it will, somehow or other, find a voice to tell you, " I am
like the purple thread in a garment. 6 Do not expect me to
be like the rest, or find fault with my nature, which hath dis-
tinguished me from others."

5. What then, am I such a one? How should I? Indeed,
are you such a one as to be able to hear the truth? I wish you
were. But, however, since I am condemned to wear a grey
beard and a cloak, and you come to me as to a philosopher, I
will not treat you cruelly, nor as if I despaired of you, but will
ask you Whom is it, young man, whom you would render
beautiful? Know first who you are, and then adorn yourself
accordingly. You are a man; that is, a mortal animal, capable
of a rational use of the appearances of things. And what is this
rational use ? A perfect conformity to nature. What have you
then particularly excellent? Is it the animal part? No.

Be Yourself 1 3 5

The mortal? No. That which is capable of the use 6 of the
appearances of things ? No. The excellence lies in the rational
part. Adorn and beautify this, but leave your hair to him who
formed it, as he thought good. Well, what other denomina-
tions have you ? Are you a man, or a woman ? A man. Then
adorn yourself as a man, not a woman. A woman is naturally
smooth and delicate; and, if hairy, is a monster, and shown
among the monsters at Rome. It is the same in a man, not to
be hairy ; and if he is by nature not so, he is a monster. But if
he clips and picks off his hairs, what shall we do with him?
Where shall we show him, and how shall we advertise him?
" A man to be seen, who would rather be a woman." What
a scandalous show! Who would not wonder at such an
advertisement? I believe, indeed, that these very pickers
themselves would, not apprehending that it is the very thing
of which they are guilty.

6. Of what have you to accuse your nature, sir? That it
hath made you a man? Why, were all to be born women,
then? In that case, what would have been the use of your
finery? For whom would you have made yourself fine, if all
were women? But the whole affair displeases you. Go to work
upon the whole, then. Remove what is the cause of these hairs,
and make yourself a woman entirely, that we may be no longer
deceived, nor you be half man, half woman. To whom would
you be agreeable? To the women? Be agreeable to them
as a man.

Ay, but they are pleased with smooth, pretty fellows.

Go hang yourself. Suppose they were pleased with pathics,
would you become one? Is this your business in life? Were
you born to please dissolute women? Shall we make such a
one as you, in the Corinthian republic, for instance, governor of
the city, master of the youth, commander of the army, or
director of the public games? Will you pick your hairs when
you are married ? For whom, and for what ? Will you be the
father of children, and introduce them into the State, picked,
like yourself? Oh, what a fine citizen, and senator, and
orator! For heaven's sake, sir, ought we to pray for a succes-
sion of young men, disposed and bred like you !

7. Now, when you have once heard this discourse, go
home, and say to yourself: It is not Epictetus who hath told me
all these things (for how should he ?), but some propitious God,
by him: 7 for it would never have entered the head of Epictetus,
who is not used to dispute with any one. Well, let us obey

136 The Discourses of Epictetus

God, then, that we may not incur the divine displeasure. If a
crow had signified anything to you by his croaking, it is not
the crow that signifies it, but God by him. And if you have
anything signified to you by the human voice, doth he not
cause the man to tell it you, that you may know the divine
efficacy, which declares its significations to different persons, in
different manners; and signifies the greatest and principal
things by the noblest messengers ? 8 What else doth the poet
mean when he says,

" Hermes I sent, his purpose to restrain ? "

Hermes, descending from heaven, was to warn him, and the
gods now likewise send a Hermes to warn you, not to invert the
well-appointed order of things, nor be curiously trifling, but
suffer a man to be a man, and a woman a woman ; a beautiful
man, to be beautiful as a man; a deformed man, to be deformed
as a man; for you do not consist of flesh and hair, but of the
faculty of choice. If you take care to have this beautiful, you
will be beautiful. But all this while, I dare not tell you that
you are deformed ; for I fancy you would rather hear anything
than this. But consider what Socrates says to the most beauti-
ful and blooming of all men, Alcibiades: " Endeavour to make
yourself beautiful." What doth he mean to say to him?
" Curl your locks, and pick the hairs from your legs " ? Heaven
forbid! But ornament your choice; throw away your wrong
principles.

What is to be done with the poor body, then?

Leave it to nature. Another hath taken care of such things.
Give them up to him.

What! then must one be a sloven?

By no means, but be neat, conformably to your nature. A
man should be neat as a man, a woman as a woman, a child as
a child. If not, let us pick out the mane of a lion, that he may
not be slovenly; and the comb of a cock, for he ought to be
neat too. Yes, but let it be as a cock, and a lion as a lion, and
a hound as a hound.

Three Main Things 137

CHAPTER II

IN WHAT A PROFICIENT OUGHT TO BE EXERCISED, AND
THAT WE NEGLECT THE PRINCIPAL THINGS

i. THERE are three topics in philosophy, in which he who
would be wise and good must be exercised. 1 That of the
Desires and Aversions, that he may not be disappointed of the
one, nor incur the other. That of the pursuits and Avoidances,
and, in general, the duties of life; that he may act with order
and consideration, and not carelessly. The third topic belongs
to circumspection, and a freedom from deception; and, in
general, whatever belongs to the Assent.

2. Of these topics, the principal, and most urgent, is that
of the passions ; for passion is produced no otherwise than by a
disappointment of the desires, and an incurring of the aversions.
It is this which introduces perturbations, tumults, misfortunes,
and calamities; this is the spring of sorrow, lamentation, and
envy; this renders us envious and emulous, and incapable of
hearing reason.

3. The next topic regards the duties of life. For I am not
to be disturbed by passions, in the same sense as a statue is,
but as one who preserves the natural and acquired relations ; as
a pious person, as a son, as a brother, as a father, as a citizen.

4. The third topic belongs to those who are now making a
proficiency, and is a security to the other two, that no un-
examined appearance may surprise us, either in sleep, or wine,
or in the spleen. This, say you, is above us. But our present
philosophers, leaving the first and second topics [the affections
and moral duties], employ themselves wholly about the third,
convertible, definitive, hypothetical propositions [and other
logical subtleties]. For they say that we must, by engaging
even in these subjects, take care to guard against deception.
Who must? A wise and good man. Is this security from
deception, then, the thing you want? Have you mastered the
other subjects? Are you not liable to be deceived by money?
When you see a fine girl, do you oppose the appearance which
is raised in your mind? If your neighbour inherits an estate,
do you feel no vexation? Do you, at present, want nothing
more than perseverance? You learn even these very things,
wretch, with trembling, and a solicitous dread of contempt, and

1 38 The Discourses of Epictetus

are inquisitive to know what is said of you ; and if any one comes
and tells you, that in a dispute which was the best of the philo-
sophers, one of the company said that such a one was the only
philosopher, that little soul of yours grows to the size of two
cubits, instead of an inch; but if another should come and say,
" You are mistaken, he is not worth hearing, for what doth he
know? He hath the first rudiments, but nothing more," you
are thunderstruck; you presently turn pale and cry out, " I
will show him what a man, and how great a philosopher, I am."
It is evident [what you are] by these very things ; why do you
aim to show it by others? Do not you know that Diogenes
showed some sophist in this manner by extending 'his middle
finger; 2 and, when he was mad with rage, This, says Diogenes,
is he; I have showed him to you. For a man is not showed in
the same sense as a stone, or a piece of wood, by the finger; but
whoever shows his principles, shows him as a man.

5. Let us see your principles too. For is it not evident that
you consider your own choice as nothing, but look out for some-
thing external and independent on it? As, what such a one
will say of you, and what you shall be thought: whether a man
of letters, whether to have read Chrysippus or Antipater; for,
if Archedemus too, you have everything you wish. Why are
you still solicitous, lest you should not show us what you are?
Will you let me tell you what you have showed us that you are?
A mean, discontented, passionate, cowardly fellow; complain-
ing of everything; accusing everybody; perpetually restless;
good for nothing. This you have showed us. Go now and
read Archedemus, and then, if you hear but the noise of a mouse,
you are a dead man; for you will die some such kind of death
as who was it? Crinis, 3 who valued himself extremely too,
that he understood Archedemus.

6. Wretch, why do not you let alone things that do not
belong to you? These things become such as are able to learn
them without perturbation; who can say, " I am not subject
to anger, or grief, or envy. I am not restrained; I am not
compelled. What remains for me to do? I am at leisure; I
am at ease. Let us see how convertible propositions are to be
treated; let us consider, when an hypothesis is laid down, how
we may avoid a contradiction." To such persons do these
things belong. They who are safe may light a fire, go to dinner
if they please, and sing and dance; but you come and hoist a
flag when your vessel is just sinking.

The Business of a Good Man 139

CHAPTER III

WHAT IS THE SUBJECT-MATTER OF A GOOD MAN; AND IN
WHAT WE CHIEFLY OUGHT TO BE PRACTITIONERS

i. THE subject-matter of a wise and good man is, his own
governing faculty. The body is the subject-matter of a
physician, and of a master of exercise; and a field, of the
husbandman. The business of a wise and good man is, an use
of the appearances of things conformable to nature. Now,
every soul, as it is naturally formed for an assent to truth, a
dissent from falsehood, and a suspense with regard to uncer-
tainty, so it is moved by a desire of good, an aversion from evil,
and an indifference to what is neither good nor evil. For, as
a money-changer, or a gardener, is not at liberty to reject
Caesar's coin, but when once it is shown is obliged, whether he
will or not, to deliver what is sold for it, so is it in the soul.
Apparent good at first sight attracts, and evil repels. Nor
will the soul any more reject an evident appearance of good
than they will Caesar's coin.

2. Hence depends every movement both of God and man;
and hence good is preferred to every obligation, however near.
My connection is not with my father, but with good. Are you
so hard-hearted? Such is my nature, and such is the coin
which God hath given me. If, therefore, good is made to be
anything but fair and just, away go father, and brother, and
country, and everything. T <Vhat! Shall I overlook my own
good and give it up to you? For what? " I am your father."
But not my good. " I am your brother." But not my good.
But, if we place it in a right choice, good will consist in an
observance of the several relations of life; and then, he who
gives up some externals acquires good. Your father deprives
you of your money, but he doth not hurt you. Your brother will
possess as much larger a portion of land than you as he pleases ;
but will he possess more honour, more fidelity, more fraternal
affection? Who can throw you out of this possession? Not
even Jupiter, for, indeed, it is not his will ; but he hath put this
good into my own power, and given it me like his own, uncom-
pelled, unrestrained, and unhindered. But when any one hath
a coin different from this, for his coin whoever shows it to him
may have whatever is sold for it in return. A thievish pro-
consul comes into the province : what coin doth he use ? Silver.

140 The Discourses of Epictetus

Show it him, and cany off what you please. An adulterer
comes : what coin doth he use ? Women. Take the coin, says
one, and give me this trifle. " Give it me, and it is yours."
Another is addicted to boys : give him the coin, and take what
you please. Another is fond of hunting: give him a fine nag
or a puppy; and, though with sighs and groans, he will sell you
for it what you will, for he is inwardly compelled by another
who hath constituted this coin.

3. In this manner ought every one chiefly to exercise him-
self. When you go out in a morning, examine whomsoever you
see or hear; answer, as to a question. What have you seen?
A handsome person? Apply the rule. Is this dependent, or
independent, on choice? Independent. Throw it away.
What have you seen? One grieving for the decease of a child?
Apply the rule. Death is independent on choice. Throw it
by. Hath a consul met you? Apply the rule. What kind
of thing is the consular office ? Dependent, or independent, on
choice ? Independent. Throw aside this too. It is not proof.
Cast it away. It is nothing to you.

4. If we acted thus, and practised in this manner from
morning till night, by heaven, something would be done.
Whereas now, on the contrary, we are caught by every appear-
ance half asleep; and, if we ever do awake, it is only a little in
the school; but, as soon as we go out, if we meet any one
grieving, we say, " He is undone." If a consul, " How happy
is he ! " If an exile, " How miserable ! " If a poor man, " How
wretched; he hath nothing to eat! "

5. These vicious principles then are to be lopped off; and
here is our whole strength to be applied. For what is weeping
and groaning? Principle. What is misfortune? Principle.
What is sedition, discord, complaint, accusation, impiety,
trifling? All these are principles, and nothing more; and prin-
ciples concerning things independent on choice, as if they were
either good or evil. Let any one transfer these principles to
things dependent on choice, and I will engage that he will pre-
serve his constancy, whatever be the state of things about him.

6. The soul resembles a vessel filled with water; the appear-
ances of things resemble a ray falling upon its surface. If the
water is moved, the ray will seem to be moved likewise, though
it h in reality without motion. Whenever, therefore, any one
is seized with a swimming in his head, it is not the arts and
virtues that are confounded, but the mind in which they are;
and, if this recover its composure, so will they likewise.

Imitation of Superiors 141

CHAPTER IV

CONCERNING ONE WHO EXERTED HIMSELF, WITH INDECENT
EAGERNESS, IN THE THEATRE

i. WHEN the Governor of Epirus had exerted himself inde-
cently in favour of a comedian, and was, upon that account,
publicly railed at; and, when he came to hear it, was highly
displeased with those who railed at him: Why, what harm,
says Epictetus, have these people done ? They have favoured
a player, which is just what you did.

Is this a proper manner, then, of expressing their favour ?

Seeing you, their governor, and the friend and vicegerent of
Caesar, express it thus, was it not to be expected that they
would express it thus too? For if it is not right to express
favour in this manner to a player, be not guilty of it yourself;
and, if it is, why are you angry at them for imitating you ? For
whom have the many to imitate, but you, their superiors?
From whom are they to take example when they come into the
theatre, but from you? " Do but look how Caesar's vicegerent
sees the play. Hath he cried out? I will cry out too. Hath
he leaped up from his seat? I, too, will leap up from mine.
Do his slaves sit in different parts of the house, making an
uproar? I, indeed, have no slaves; but I will make as much
uproar as I can myself, instead of ever so many."

2. You ought to consider, then, that when you appear in the
theatre, you appear as a rule and example to others, how they
ought to see the play. Why is it that they have railed at you ?
Because every man hates what hinders him. They would have
one actor crowned, you another. They hindered you ; and you,
them. You proved the stronger. They have done what they
could; they have railed at the person who hindered them.
What would you have, then? Would you do as you please,
and not have them even talk as they please? Where is the
wonder of all this? Doth not the husbandman rail at Jupiter
when he is hindered by him? Doth not the sailor? Do men
ever cease railing at Caesar? What then, is Jupiter ignorant
of this? Are not the things that are said reported to Caesar?
How then doth he act? He knows that if he was to punish all
railers, he would have nobody left to command.

*F 44

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3. When you enter the theatre, then, ought you to say,
" Come, let Sophron * be crowned " ? No. But, " Come, let
me preserve my choice, in a manner conformable to nature,
upon this occasion. No one is dearer to me than myself. It
is ridiculous, then, that because another man gains the victory
as a player, I should be hurt. Whom do I wish to gain the
victory? Him who doth gain it; and thus he will always be
victorious, whom I wish to be so." But I would have Sophron
crowned. Why, celebrate as many games as you will at your
own house; Nemean, Pythian, Isthmian, Olympic, and pro-
claim him victor in all; but, in public, do not arrogate more
than your due, nor seize to yourself what lies in common:
otherwise, bear to be railed at; for, if you act like the mob,
you reduce yourself to an equality with them.

CHAPTER V

CONCERNING THOSE WHO PRETEND SICKNESS AS AN
EXCUSE TO RETURN HOME l

i. I AM sick here, said one of the scholars. I will return home.
Were you never sick at home, then? Consider, whether you
are doing anything here conducive to the regulation of your
choice ; for, if you make no improvement, it was to no purpose
that you came. Go home. Take care of your domestic affairs.
For, if your ruling faculty cannot be brought to a conformity to
nature, your land may. You may increase your money, support
the old age of your father, mix in the public assemblies, and
make a bad governor as you are a bad man, and do other things
of that sort. But if you are conscious to yourself that you are
casting off some of your wrong principles, and taking up different
ones in their room; and that you have transferred your scheme
of life from things not dependent on choice to those which are;
and that, if you do sometimes cry Alas, it is not upon the account
of your father or your brother, but yourself; why do you any
longer plead sickness ? a Do not you know that both sickness
and death must overtake us? At what employment? The
husbandman at his plough; the sailor on his voyage. At what
employment would you be taken? For, indeed, at what em-

What are You Fit For ? 143

ploy ment ought you to be taken ? If there is any better employ-
ment at which you can be taken, follow that. For my own part,
I would be taken engaged in nothing, but in the care of my own
faculty of choice; how to render it undisturbed, unrestrained,
uncompelled, free. I would be found studying this, that I may
be able to say to God, " Have I transgressed thy commands?
Have I perverted the powers, the senses, the preconceptions
which thou hast given me? Have I ever accused thee, or
censured thy dispensations? I have been sick, because it was
thy pleasure; and so have others, but I willingly. I have been
poor, it being thy will, but with joy. I have not been in power,
because it was not thy will; and power I have never desired.
Hast thou ever seen me out of humour upon this account?
Have I not always approached thee with a cheerful countenance,
prepared to execute thy commands and the significations of
thy will? Is it thy pleasure that I should depart from this
assembly? I depart. I give thee all thanks that thou hast
thought me worthy to have a share in it with thee; to behold
thy works, and to join with thee in comprehending thy adminis-
tration." Let death overtake me while I am thinking, while I
am writing, while I am reading such things as these.

2. But I shall not have my mother to hold my head when
I am sick.

Get home then to your mother, for you are fit to have your
head held when you are sick.

But I used at home to lie on a fine couch.

Get to this couch of yours, for you are fit to lie upon such a
one, even in health; so do not lose the doing what you are
qualified for. But what says Socrates? " As one man rejoices
in the improvement of his estate, another of his horse, so do I
daily rejoice in apprehending myself to grow better."

In what? In pretty speeches?

Good words, I entreat you.

In trifling theorems? In what doth he employ himself?
For, indeed, I do not see that the philosophers are employed in
anything else.

Do you think it nothing, never to accuse or censure any one,
either God or man? Always to carry abroad and bring home
the same countenance? These were the things which Socrates
knew; and yet he never professed to know or to teach any-
thing ; but if any one wanted pretty speeches or little theorems,
he brought him to Protagoras, to Hippias; just as if any one
had come for pot-herbs he would have taken him to a gardener.

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Who of you then hath such an [earnest] intention as this? If
you had, you would bear sickness, and hunger, and death, with
cheerfulness. If any of you hath been in love, he knows that
I speak truth.

CHAPTER VI

MISCELLANEOUS

i. WHEN he was asked, how * it came to pass that, though
the art of reasoning is more studied now, yet the improvements
were greater formerly? In what instance, answered he, is it
more studied now, and in what were the improvements greater
then? For in what is studied at present, in that will be found
likewise the improvements at present. The present study is
the solution of syllogisms; and in this improvements are made.
But formerly, the study was to preserve the governing faculty
conformable to nature; and improvement was made in that.
Therefore, do not confound things, nor when you study one
expect improvement in another; but see whether any of us,
who applies himself to think and act conformably to nature,
ever fails of improvement. Depend upon it, you will not find
one.

2. A good man is invincible; for he doth not contend where
he is not superior. If you would have his land, take it; take
his servants, take his public post, take his body. But you will
never frustrate his desire, nor make him incur his aversion.
He engages in no combat but what concerns the objects of his
own choice. How can he fail then to be invincible?

3. Being asked what common sense was, he answered:
As that may be called a common ear which distinguishes only
sounds, but that which distinguishes notes an artificial one;
so there are some things which men not totally perverted discern
by their common natural powers ; and such a disposition is called
common sense.

4. It is not easy to gain the attention of effeminate young
men, for you cannot take custard by a hook; but the ingenuous,
even if you discourage them, are the more eager for learning.
Hence Rufus, for the most part, did discourage them, and made
use of that as a criterion of the ingenuous and disingenuous.

What is the Soul's Good ? 145

For he used to say, As a stone, even if you throw it up, will by
its own propensity be carried downward ; so an ingenuous mind,
the more it is forced from its natural bent, the more strongly
will it incline towards it.

CHAPTER VII

CONCERNING A GOVERNOR OF THE FREE STATES,
WHO WAS AN EPICUREAN

i. WHEN the governor, who was an Epicurean, came to him,
It is fit, says he, that we ignorant people should inquire of you
philosophers what is the most valuable thing in the world; as
those who come into a strange city do of the citizens, and such
as are acquainted with it; that, after this inquiry, we may go
and take a view of it, as they do in cities. Now, scarcely any one
denies but that there are three things belonging to man: soul,
body, and externals. It remains for you to answer which is the
best. What shall we tell mankind? Is it flesh?

And was it for this that Maximus took a voyage in winter as
far as Cassiope to accompany his son? Was it to gratify the
flesh?

No, surely.

Is it not fit, then, to employ our chief study on what is best?

Yes, beyond all other things.

What have we, then, better than flesh?

The soul.

Are we to prefer the good of the better, or of the worse?

Of the better.

Doth the good of the soul consist in what is dependent, or
independent, on choice ?

In what is dependent on it.

Doth the pleasure of the soul, then, depend on choice?

It doth.

And whence doth this pleasure arise? From itself? This
is unintelligible. For there must subsist some principal essence
of good, in the attainment of which we shall enjoy this pleasure
of the soul.

This too is granted.

In what, then, consists this pleasure of the soul? For if it

146 The Discourses of Epictetus

be in mental objects, the essence of good is found. 1 For it is
impossible that we should be reasonably elated with pleasure
unless by good; or that, if the leading cause is not good, the
effect should be good. For to make the effect reasonable, the
cause must be good. But this, if you are in your senses, you
will not allow; for it would be to contradict both Epicurus and
the rest of y6ur principles. It remains, then, that the pleasures
of the soul must consist in bodily objects; and that there must
be the leading cause and the essence of good. Maximus there-
fore did foolishly, if he took a voyage for the sake of anything
but body; that is, for the sake of what is best. He doth
foolishly, too, if he refrains from what is another's, when he is
a judge, and able to take it. But let us consider only this, if
you please, how it may be done secretly and safely, and so that
no one may know it. For Epicurus himself doth not pronounce
stealing to be evil, only the being found out in it, and says, " Do
not steal/* for no other reason but because it is impossible to
insure ourselves against a discovery. But I say to you, that if
it be done dexterously and cautiously, we shall not be dis-
covered. Besides, we have powerful friends of both sexes at
Rome, and the Greeks are weak, and nobody will dare to go up
to Rome on such an affair. Why do you refrain from your own
proper good? It is madness; it is folly. But if you were to
tell me that you do refrain, I would not believe you. For, as it
is impossible to assent to an apparent falsehood, or to deny an
apparent truth, so it is impossible to abstain from an apparent
good. Now, riches are a good; and, indeed, the chief instru-
ment of pleasures. Why do not you acquire them? And why
do not we corrupt the wife of our neighbour, if it can be done
secretly? And, if the husband should happen to be imperti-
nent, why not cut his throat too? if you have a mind to be
such a philosopher as you ought to be, a complete one, to be
consistent with your own principles. Otherwise you will not
differ from us, who are called Stoics. For we too say one thing
and do another; we talk well and act ill; but you will be per-
verse in a contrary way ; teach bad principles, and act well.

2. For heaven's sake, represent to yourself a city of
Epicureans. 2 " I do not marry." " Nor I. For we were not
to marry, nor have children, nor to engage in public affairs."
What will be the consequence of this ? Whence are the citizens
to come ? Who will educate them ? Who will be the governor
of the youth ? Who the master of their exercises ? What, then,
will he teach them? Will it be what used to be taught at

Pernicious Principles 147

Athens or Lacedemon? Take a young man; bring him up
according to your principles. These principles are wicked;
subversive of a state; pernicious to families; nor becoming,
even to women. Give them up, sir. You live in a capital city.
You are to govern and judge uprightly, and to refrain from
what belongs to others. No one's wife or child, or silver or gold
plate, is to have any charms for you, but your own. Provide
yourself with principles consonant to these truths ; and, setting
out from thence, you will with pleasure refrain from things so
persuasive to mislead, and get the better. But, if to their own
persuasive force we add such a philosophy as hurries us upon
them and confirms us in them, what will be the consequence ?

3. In a sculptured vase, which is the best: the silver or the
workmanship? In the hand, the substance is flesh, but its
operations are the principal thing. Accordingly, the duties
relative to it are likewise threefold; some have respect to mere
existence, others to the manner of existence, and a third sort
are the leading operations themselves. Thus, likewise, do not
set a value on the materials of man, mere paltry flesh, but on
the principal operations belonging to him.

What are these ?

Engaging in public business; marrying; the production of
children ; the worship of God ; the care of our parents ; and, in
general, the having our desires and aversions, our pursuits and
avoidances, such as each of them ought to be, conformable to
our nature.

What is our nature ?

To be free, noble-spirited, modest. (For what other animal
blushes? What other hath the idea of shame?) But pleasure
must be subjected to these, as an attendant and handmaid,
to call forth our activity and to keep us constant in natural
operations.

But I am rich and want nothing.

Then why do you pretend to philosophise? Your gold and
silver plate is enough for you. What need have you of prin-
ciples?

Besides, I am judge of the Greeks.

Do you know how to judge? Who hath imparted this know-
ledge to you ?

Caesar hath given me a commission.

Let him give you a commission to judge of music; and what
good will it do you ? But how were you made a judge ? Whose
hand have you kissed? That of Symphorus, or Numenius? 3

148 The Discourses of Epictetus

Before whose bed-chamber have you slept? To whom have
you sent presents? After all, do you perceive that the office
of judge is of the same value as Numenius?

But I can throw whom I please into prison.

As you may a stone.

But I can beat whom I will too.

As you may an ass. This is not a government over men.
Govern us like reasonable creatures. Show us what is for our
interest, and we will pursue it; show us what is against our
interest, and we will avoid it. Like Socrates, make us imitators
of yourself. He was properly a governor of men, who subjected
their desires and aversions, their pursuits, their avoidances, to
himself. " Do this; do not do that, or I will throw you into
prison." Going thus far only is not governing men like reason-
able creatures. But " Do as Jupiter hath commanded, or
you will be punished. You will be a loser. "

What shall I lose?

Nothing more than the not doing what you ought. You
will lose your fidelity, honour, decency. Look for no greater
losses than these.

CHAPTER VIII

HOW WE ARE TO EXERCISE OURSELVES AGAINST THE
APPEARANCES OF THINGS

i. IN the same manner as we exercise ourselves against
sophistical questions, we should exercise ourselves likewise in
relation to such appearances as every day occur, for these too
offer questions to us. Such a one's son is dead. What do you
think of it? Answer: it is independent on choice, it is not an
evil. Such a one is disinherited by his father. What do you
think of it? It is independent on choice, it is not an evil.
Caesar hath condemned him. This is independent on choice, it
is not an evil. He hath been afflicted by it. This is dependent
on choice, it is an evil. He hath supported it bravely. This
is dependent on choice, it is a good.

2. If we accustom ourselves in this manner we shall make
an improvement, for we shall never assent to anything but what
the appearance itself comprehends. A son is dead. What
hath happened? A son is dead. Nothing more? Nothing.

Are Your Principles Sound ? 149

A ship is lost. What hath happened? A ship is lost. He
is carried to prison. What hath happened? He is carried to
prison. That he is unhappy is an addition that every one
makes of his own. " But Jupiter doth not order these things
right." Why so? Because he hath made you patient?
Because he hath made you brave? Because he hath made
them to be no evils? Because it is permitted you, while you
suffer them, to be happy? Because he hath opened you the
door, whenever they do not suit you ? Go out, man, and do not
complain.

3. If you would know how the Romans treat philosophers,
hear. Italicus, esteemed one of the greatest philosophers
among them, being in a passion with his own people, as if he
had suffered some intolerable evil, said once when I was by, " I
cannot bear it ; you are the ruin of me, you will make me just like
him/' pointing to me.

CHAPTER IX

CONCERNING A CERTAIN ORATOR WHO WAS GOING TO
ROME ON A LAW-SUIT

i. WHEN a person came to him who was going to Rome on a
law-suit in which his dignity was concerned, and, after telling
him the occasion of his journey, asked him what he thought of
the affair ? If you ask me, says Epictetus, what will happen to
you at Rome, and whether you shall gain or lose your cause, I
have no theorem for this. But if you ask me how you shall
fare, I can answer, If you have right principles, well; if wrong
ones, ill. For principle is to every one the cause of action.
For what is the reason that you so earnestly desired to be voted
Governor of the Gnossians? Principle. What is the reason
that you are now going to Rome? Principle. And in winter,
too, and with danger and expense ? Why, because it is necessary.
What tells you so? Principle. If, then, principles are the
causes of all our actions, wherever any one hath bad principles,
the effect will be answerable to the cause. Well, then, are all
our principles sound? Are both yours and your antagonist's?
How, then, do you differ? Or are yours better than his?
Why? You think so; and so doth he, that his are better;

1 50 The Discourses of Epictetus

and so do madmen. This is a bad criterion. But show me
that you have made some examination and taken some care of
your principles. As you now take a voyage to Rome for the
government of the Gnossians, and are not contented to stay at
home with the honours you before enjoyed, but desire some-
thing greater and more illustrious; did you ever take such a
voyage in order to examine your own principles, and to throw
away the bad ones, if you happened to have any? Did you
ever apply to any one upon this account? What time did you
ever set yourself? What age? Run over your years. If you
are ashamed of me, do it to yourself. Did you examine your
principles when you were a child ? Did you not then do every-
thing just as you do everything now? When you were a
youth, and frequented the schools of the orators and made
declamations yourself, did you ever imagine that you were
deficient in anything? And when you became a man, and
entered upon public business, pleaded causes, and acquired
credit, who, any longer, appeared to be equal to you? How
would you have borne that any one should examine whether
your principles were bad? What, then, would you have me
say to you ?

Assist me in this affair.

I have no theorem for that. Neither are you come to me, if
it be upon that account you came, as to a philosopher, but as
you would come to an herb-seller or a shoemaker.

To what purposes, then, have the philosophers theorems ?

For preserving and conducting the ruling faculty conformably
to nature, whatever happens. Do you think this a small thing ?

No, but the greatest.

Well, and doth it require but a short time? And may it be
taken as you pass by? If you can, take it then; and so you
will say, " I have visited Epictetus." Ay; just as you would
a stone, or a statue. For you have seen me and nothing more.
But he visits a man, as a man, who learns his principles, and in
return shows his own. Learn my principles. Show me yours.
Then say you have visited me. Let us confute each other. If
I have any bad principle, take it away. If you have any, bring
it forth. This is visiting a philosopher. No. But " It lies in
our way ; and, while we were about hiring a ship, we may call on
Epictetus. Let us see what it is he says." And then, when
you are gone, you say, " Epictetus is nothing. His language
was inaccurate, was barbarous." For what else did you come
to judge of? " Well, but if I employ l myself in these

Principles Ready for Use 1 5 1

things, I shall be without an estate, like you; without plate,
without equipage, like you." Nothing, perhaps, is necessary
to be said to this, but that I do not want them. But, if you
possess many things, you still want others; so that, whether you
will or not, you are poorer than I.

2. What, then, do I want?

What you have not: constancy, a mind conformable to
nature, and a freedom from perturbation. Patron or no
patron, what care I? But you do. I am richer than you. I
am not anxious what Caesar will think of me. I flatter no one
on that account. This I have, instead of silver and gold plate.
You have your vessels of gold; but your discourse, your prin-
ciples, your assents, your pursuits, your desires, of mere earthen-
ware. When I have all these conformable to nature, why
should not I bestow some study upon my reasoning too ? I am
at leisure. My mind is under no distraction. In this freedom
from distraction, what shall I do? Have I anything more
becoming a man than this? You, when you have nothing to
do, are restless; you go to the theatre, or perhaps to bathe. 2
Why should not the philosopher polish his reasoning? You
have fine 3 crystal and myrrhine vases ; I have acute forms of
reasoning. To you, all you have appears little; to me, all I
have great. Your appetite is unsatiable; mine is satisfied.
When children thrust their head into a narrow jar of nuts and
figs, if they fill it they cannot get it out again; then they fall
a-crying. Drop a few of them and you will get out the rest.
And do you too drop your desire; do not covet many things, and
you will get some.

CHAPTER X

IN WHAT MANNER WE OUGHT TO BEAR SICKNESS

i. WE should have all our principles ready, to make use of on
every occasion. At dinner, such as relate to dinner; in the
bath, such as relate to the bath; and in the bed, such as relate
to the bed.

" Let not the stealing god of sleep surprise
Nor creep in slumbers on thy weary eyes,
Ere every action of the former day
Strictly thou dost and righteously survey:
What have I done? In what have I transgressed?

152 The Discourses of Epictetus

What good or ill has this day's life expressed?
Where have I failed, in what I ought to do?
If evil were thy deeds, repent and mourn,
If good, rejoice . . ."

ROWB'S Pythagoras.

We should retain these verses, so as to apply them to our use;
not merely to repeat them aloud, as we do the verses in honour
of Apollo [without minding what we are about]. 1

2. Again, in a fever, we should have such principles ready
as relate to a fever ; and not, as soon as we are taken ill, to lose
and forget all. Provided I do but act like a philosopher, let
what will happen. Some way or other, depart I must from
this frail body, whether a fever comes or not. 2 What is it to be
a philosopher? Is it not to be prepared against events? Do
not you comprehend that you say, in effect, If I am but pre-
pared to bear all events with calmness, let what will happen;
otherwise, you are like a pancratiast, who after receiving a blow
should quit the combat. In that case, indeed, you may allow-
ably leave off, and not [run the hazard] of being whipped. 3
But what shall we get by leaving off philosophy ? What, then,
ought each of us to say upon every difficult occasion? " It
was for this that I exercised, it was for this that I prepared
myself." God says to you, Give me a proof if you have gone
through the preparatory combats, according to rule ; 4 if you
have followed a proper diet, a proper exercise; if you have
obeyed your master; and after this, do you faint at the very
time of action? Now is the proper time for a fever. Bear it
well; for thirst, bear it well; for hunger, bear it well. Is it
not in your power? Who shall restrain you? A physician
may restrain you from drinking, but he cannot restrain you from
bearing your thirst well. He may restrain you from eating,
but he cannot restrain you from bearing hunger well. But I
cannot follow my studies. And for what end do you follow
them, wretch? Is it not that you may be prosperous? That
you may be constant? That you may think and act conform-
ably to nature? What restrains you, but that in a fever you
may preserve your ruling faculty conformable to nature?
Here is the proof of the matter. Here is the trial of the philo-
sopher; for a fever is a part of life, just as a walk, a voyage, or
a journey. Do you read when you are walking? No, nor in a
fever. But when you walk well, you have everything belonging
to a walker; so if you bear a fever well, you have everything
belonging to one in a fever. What is it to bear a fever well?
Not to blame either God or man, not to be afflicted at what

The Divine Law 153

happens; to expect death in a right and becoming manner, and
to do what is to be done. When the physician enters, not to
dread what he may say ; nor, if he should tell you that you are
in a fair way, to be too much rejoiced; for what good hath he
told you ? When you were in health, what good did it do you ?
Not to be dejected when he tells you that you are very ill; for
what is it to be very ill ? To be near the separation of soul and
body. What harm is there in this, then? If you are not near
it now, will you not be near it hereafter ? What, will the world
be quite overset when you die? Why, then, do you flatter
your physician? Why do you say, " If you please, sir, I shall
do well"? 5 Why do you furnish an occasion to his pride?
Why do not you treat a physician, with regard to an insigni-
ficant body, which is not yours, but by nature mortal, as you
do a shoemaker about your feet, or a carpenter about a house ?
These are the things necessary to one in a fever. If he fulfils
these, he hath what belongs to him. For it is not the business
of a philosopher to take care of these mere externals, of his
wine, his oil, or his body; but his ruling faculty. And how
with regard to externals? So as not to behave inconsiderately
about them. What occasion, then, is there for fear? What
occasion for anger, 6 about what belongs to others, and what is
of no value? For two rules we should always have ready:
That nothing is good or evil, but choice; and, That we are not
to lead events, but to follow them. " My brother ought not
to have treated me so." Very true, but he must see to that.
However he treats me, I am to act right with regard to him, for
the one is my own concern, the other is not; the one cannot be
restrained, the other may.

CHAPTER XI

MISCELLANEOUS

i. THERE are some punishments appointed, as by a law,
for such as disobey the divine administration. Whoever shall
esteem anything good, except what depends on choice, let him
envy, let him covet, let him flatter, let him be full of perturba-
tion. Whoever esteems anything else to be evil, let him grieve,
let him mourn, let him lament, let him be wretched. And yet,
though thus severely punished, we cannot desist.

I 54 The Discourses of Epictetus

Remember what the poet says of a stranger:

" A worse than thou might enter here secure;
No rude affront shall drive him from my door;
For strangers come from Jove . . ." HOMER.

2. This, too, you should be prepared to say, with regard to
a father: It is not lawful for me to affront you, father, even if a
worse than you should have come; for all are from paternal
Jove. And so of a brother; for all are from kindred Jove.
And thus we shall find Jove to be the inspector of all the other
relations.

CHAPTER XII

OF ASCETIC EXERCISE

i. WE are not to carry our exercises beyond nature, nor
merely to attract admiration; for thus we, who call ourselves
philosophers, shall not differ from jugglers. For it is difficult,
too, to walk upon a rope, and not only difficult, but dangerous.
Ought we too, for that reason, to make it our study to walk
upon a rope, or set up a palm-tree, 1 or grasp a statue ? 2 By
no means. It is not everything difficult or dangerous that is a
proper exercise, but such things as are conducive to what lies
before us to do.

And what is it that lies before us to do ?

To have our desires and aversions free from restraint.

How is that?

Not to be disappointed of our desire, nor incur our aversion.
To this ought our exercise to be turned. For, without strong
and constant exercise, it is not possible to preserve our desire
undisappointed, and our aversion unincurred; and therefore,
if we suffer it to be externally employed on things independent
on choice, be assured that your desire will neither gain its
object, nor your aversion avoid it.

2. And, because habit hath a powerful influence, and we are
habituated to apply our desire and aversion to externals only,
we must oppose one habit to another, and where the appear-
ances are most slippery, there oppose exercise. I am inclinable
to pleasure. I will bend 3 myself beyond a due proportion to
the other side for the sake of exercise. I am averse to pain.
I will break and exercise the appearances [which strike my

To Practise Abstinence 155

mind], that I may withdraw my aversion from every such
object. For who is the practitioner in exercise? He who
endeavours totally to restrain desire, and to apply aversion
only to things dependent on choice, and endeavours it most in
the most difficult cases. Hence different persons are to be
exercised in different ways. What signifies it to this purpose
to set up a palm-tree, or carry about a tent 4 of skins or a pestle
and mortar? 4 If you are hasty, man, let it be your exercise
to bear ill language patiently; and when you are affronted,
not to be angry. Thus, at length, you may arrive at such a
proficiency as, when any one strikes you, to say to yourself,
" Let me suppose this to be grasping a statue." Next, exercise
yourself to make a decent use of wine ; not to drink a great deal,
for even in this there are some so foolish as to exercise them-
selves; but at first to abstain from it; and to abstain from a
girl, and from delicacies in eating. Afterwards you will venture
into the lists at some proper season, by way of trial, if at all, to
see whether appearances get the better of you as much as they
used to do. But at first, fly from what is stronger than you.
The contest of a fine girl with a young man just initiated into
philosophy is unequal. The brass pot and the earthen pitcher,
as the fable says, are an unsuitable match.

3. Next to the Desires and Aversions is the second class, of
the Pursuits and Avoidances; that they may be obedient to
reason; that nothing may be done improperly in point of time
or place, or in any other respect.

4. The third class relates to Assent, and what is plausible
and persuasive. As Socrates said that we are not to lead an
unexamined life, so neither are we to admit an unexamined
appearance, but to say, " Stop, let me see what you are, and
whence you come." (As the watch say, Show me the ticket.)
" Have you that signal from nature which is necessary to the
admission of every appearance? "

5. In short, whatever things are applied to the body by
those who exercise it, if they any way affect desire or aversion,
they may be used in ascetic exercise. But if this be done for
mere ostentation, it belongs to one who looks out and hunts for
something external, and seeks for spectators to exclaim, " What
a great man! " Hence Apollonius said well: " If you have a
mind to exercise yourself for your own benefit, when you are
choking with heat, take a little cold water in your mouth and
spirt it out again, and tell nobody."

1 56 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XIII

WHAT SOLITUDE IS, AND WHAT A SOLITARY PERSON

i. SOLITUDE is the state of a helpless person. For not he who
is alone is therefore solitary, any more than one in a crowd the
contrary. When, therefore, we lose a son, or a brother, or a
friend on whom we have been used to repose, we often say we
are left solitary even in the midst of Rome, where such a crowd
is continually meeting us; where we live among so many, and
when we have, perhaps, a numerous train of servants. For he
is understood to be solitary who is helpless and exposed to such
as would injure him. Hence, in a journey especially, we call
ourselves solitary when we fall among thieves ; for it is not the
sight of a man that removes our solitude, but of an honest man,
a man of honour and a helpful companion. If merely being
alone is sufficient for solitude, Jupiter may be said to be solitary
at the conflagration, and bewail himself that he hath neither
Juno, nor Pallas, nor Apollo, nor brother, nor son, nor de-
scendant, nor relation. This some indeed say he doth, when
he is alone at the conflagration. 1 Such as these, moved by
some natural principle, some natural desire of society and
mutual love, and by the pleasure of conversation, do not rightly
consider the state of a person who is alone. We ought, however,
to be prepared in some manner for this also, to be self-sufficient
and able to bear our own company. For as Jupiter converses
with himself, acquiesces in himself, and contemplates his own
administration, and is employed in thoughts worthy of himself:
so should we too be able to talk with ourselves, and not to need
the conversation of others, nor be at a loss for employment; to
attend to the divine administration; to consider our relation
to other beings ; how we have formerly been affected by events,
how we are affected now; what are the things that still press
upon us, how these too may be cured, how removed ; if anything
wants completing, to complete it according to reason. You
see that Caesar hath procured us a profound peace; there are
neither wars nor battles, nor great robberies nor piracies, but
we may travel at all hours, and sail from east to west. But can
Csesar procure us peace from a fever too? From a shipwreck?
From a fire? From an earthquake? From a thunderstorm ?
Nay, even from love ? He cannot. From grief ? From, Jenvy ?

Restrain Your Desires 157

No, not from any one of these. But the doctrine of philosophers
promises to procure us peace from these too. And what doth
it say? " If you will attend to me, mortals, wherever you
are, and whatever you are doing, you shall neither grieve nor be
angry, nor be compelled nor restrained; but you shall live
impassive, and free from all." Shall not he who enjoys this
peace, proclaimed, not by Caesar (for how should he have it to
proclaim ?) but by God, through reason, be contented, when he
is alone reflecting and considering: "To me there can now no
ill happen ; there is no thief, no earthquake. All is full of peace,
all full of tranquillity; every road, every city, every assembly.
My neighbour, my companion, unable to hurt me." Another,
whose care it is, provides you with food, with clothes, with
senses, with preconceptions. Whenever he doth not provide
what is necessary, he sounds a retreat; he opens the door, and
says to you, " Come." Whither? To nothing dreadful, but
to that whence you were made; to what is friendly and con-
genial to the elements. What in you was fire, goes away to fire;
what was earth, to earth; what air, to air; what water, to
water. There is no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Cocytus, nor
Py riphlegethon ; but all is full of gods and daemons. He who
can have such thoughts, and can look upon the sun, moon, and
stars, and enjoy the earth and sea, is no more solitary than he
is helpless. Well, but suppose any one should come and
murder me, when I am alone. Fool, not you, but that insigni-
ficant body of yours.

2. What solitude is there then left? What destitution?
Why do we make ourselves worse than children ? W T hat do they
do when they are left alone? They take up shells and dust;
they build houses, then pull them down, then build something
else, and thus never want amusement. Suppose you were all
to sail away, am I to sit and cry because I am left alone and
solitary? Ain I so unprovided with shells and dust? But
children do this from folly ; and we are wretched from wisdom.

3. Every great faculty is dangerous to a beginner. 2 Study
first how to live like a person in sickness, that in time you may
know how to live like one in health. Abstain from food.
Drink water. Totally repress your desire, for some time, that
you may at length use it according to reason; and, if according
to reason [as you may], when you come to have some good in
you, you will use it well. No, but we would live immediately
as men already wise, and be of service to mankind. Of what
service ? What are you doing ? Why, have you been of service

158 The Discourses of Epictetus

to yourself? But you would exhort them. You exhort!
Would you be of service to them, show them, by your own
example, what kind of men philosophy makes, and be not im-
pertinent. When you eat, be. of service to those who eat with
you; when you drink, to those who drink with you. Be of
service to them, by giving way to all, yielding to them, bearing
with them ; and not by throwing out your own ill humour upon
them.

CHAPTER XIV

MISCELLANEOUS

i. As bad performers cannot sing alone but in a chorus, so
some persons cannot walk alone. If you are anything, walk
alone, talk by yourself, and do not skulk in the chorus. Think
a little at last; look about you, sift yourself, that you may
know what you are.

2. If a person drinks water, or doth anything else for the
sake of exercise, upon every occasion he tells all he meets, " I
drink water." Why, do you drink water merely for the sake of
drinking it? If it doth you any good to drink it, drink it; if
not, you act ridiculously. But, if it is for your advantage, and
you drink it, say nothing about it before those who are apt to
take offence. What then ? These are the very people you wish
to please.

3. Of actions some are performed on their own account;
others occasioned by circumstances; some proceed from
motives of prudence; some from complaisance to others; and
some are done in pursuance of a manner of life which we have
taken up.

4. Two things must be rooted out of men: conceit and
diffidence. Conceit lies in thinking you want nothing; and
diffidence in supposing it impossible that, under such adverse
circumstances, you should ever succeed. Now, conceit is re-
moved by confutation; and of this Socrates was the author.
And [in order to see] that the undertaking is not impracticable,
consider and inquire. The inquiry itself will do you no harm;
and it is almost being a philosopher to inquire how it is possible
to make use of our desire and aversion without hindrance.

5. I am better than you, for my father hath been consul. I

Count the Cost 159

have been a tribune, says another, and not you. If we were
horses, would you say, My father was swifter than yours? I
have abundance of oats and hay, and fine trappings? What
now, if, while you were saying this, I should answer, " Be it so.
Let us run a race, then." Is there nothing in man analogous
to a race in horses, by which it may be known which is better or
worse? Is there not honour, fidelity, justice? Show yourself
the better in these, that you may be the better, as a man. But
if you tell me you can kick violently, I will tell you again that
you value yourself on the property of an ass.

CHAPTER XV 1

THAT EVERYTHING IS TO BE UNDERTAKEN WITH
CIRCUMSPECTION

i. IN every affair consider what precedes and follows, and then
undertake it. Otherwise you will begin with spirit; but not
having thought of the consequences, when some of them appear
you will shamefully desist. " I would conquer at the Olympic
games. " But consider what precedes and follows, and then,
if it be for your advantage, engage in the affair. You must
conform to rules, submit to a diet, refrain from dainties; exer-
cise your body, whether you choose it or not, at a stated hour, in
heat and cold; you must drink no cold water, nor sometimes
even wine. 2 In a word, you must give yourself up to your
master, as to a physician. Then, in the combat, you may be
thrown into a ditch, dislocate your arm, turn your ankle,
swallow abundance of dust, be whipped, 3 and, after all, lose the
victory. When you have reckoned up all this, if your inclina-
tion still holds, set about the combat. Otherwise, take notice,
you will behave like children, who sometimes play wrestlers,
sometimes gladiators, sometimes blow a trumpet, and some-
times act a tragedy, when they happen to have seen and ad-
mired these shows. Thus you too will be at one time a wrestler,
at another a gladiator, now a philosopher, then an orator; but
with your whole soul, nothing at all. Like an ape, you mimic
all you see, and one thing after another is sure to please you,
but is out of favour as soon as it becomes familiar. For you
have never entered upon anything considerately, nor after

160 The Discourses of Epictetus

having viewed the whole matter on all sides, or made any
scrutiny into it, but rashly, and with a cold inclination. Thus
some, when they have seen a philosopher and heard a man
speaking like Euphrates 4 (though, indeed, who can speak like
him?), have a mind to be philosophers too. Consider first,
man, what the matter is, and what your own nature is able to
bear. If you would be a wrestler, consider your shoulders, your
back, your thighs; for different persons are made for different
things. Do you think that you can act as you do, and be a
philosopher? That you can eat 6 and drink, and be angry and
discontented as you are now? You must watch, you must
labour, you must get the better of certain appetites, must quit
your acquaintance, be despised by your servant, be laughed at
by those you meet; come off worse than others in everything, in
magistracies, in honours, in courts of judicature. When you
have considered all these things round, approach, if you please ;
if, by parting with them, you have a mind to purchase apathy,
freedom, and tranquillity. If not, do not come hither; do not,
like children, be one while a philosopher, then a publican, then
an orator, and then one of Caesar's officers. These things are
not consistent. You must be one man, either good or bad. You
must cultivate either your own ruling faculty or externals, and
apply yourself either to things within or without you; that is,
be either a philosopher, or one of the vulgar. 6

CHAPTER XVI

THAT CAUTION IS NECESSARY IN CONDESCENSION AND
COMPLAISANCE

i. HE who frequently converses with others, either in discourse
or entertainments, or in any familiar way of living, must
necessarily either become like his companions, or bring them
over to his own way. For, if a dead coal be applied to a live
one, either the first will quench the last, or the last kindle the
first. Since, then, the danger is so great, caution must be used
in entering into these familiarities with the vulgar; remember-
ing that it is impossible to touch a chimney-sweeper without
being partaker of his soot. For what will you do, if you are to
talk of gladiators, of horses, of wrestlers, and, what is worse, of

Conversation 1 6 1

men? " Such a one is good, another bad; this was well, that ill
done." Besides, what if any one should sneer or ridicule, or be
ill-natured? Is any of you prepared like a harper, who, when
he takes his harp and tries the strings, finds out which notes are
discordant, and knows how to put the instrument in tune?
Hath any of you such a faculty as Socrates had, who, in every
conversation, could bring his companions to his own purpose?
Whence should you have it? You must therefore be carried
along by the vulgar. And why are they more powerful than
you? Because they utter their corrupt discourses from prin-
ciple, and you your good ones only from your lips. Hence they
are without strength or life; and it would turn one's stomach to
hear your exhortations and poor miserable virtue celebrated
up hill and down. Thus it is that the vulgar get the better of
you; for principle is always strong, always invincible. There-
fore, before these good opinions are fixed in you, and you have
acquired some faculty for your security, I advise you to be
cautious in your familiarity with the vulgar; otherwise, if you
have any impressions made on you in the schools, they will melt
away daily, like wax before the sun. Get away, then, far from
the sun, while you have these waxen opinions.

2. It is for this reason that the philosophers advise us to
leave our country; because inveterate manners draw the mind
aside, and prevent the beginning of a new habit. We cannot
bear those who meet us to say, " Hey-day ! such a one is turned
philosopher, who was so-and-so. " Thus physicians send
patients with lingering distempers to another place, and another
air; and they do right. Do you too import other manners,
instead of those you carry out. Fix your opinions, and exercise
yourselves in them. No, but from hence to the theatre, to the
gladiators, to the walks, to the circus; then hither again, then
back again, just the same persons all the while. No good habit,
no attention, no animadversion upon ourselves. No observa-
tion what use we make of the appearances presented to our
minds, whether it be conformable or contrary to nature;
whether we answer them right or wrong ; l whether we say to
things independent on choice, " You are nothing to me." If
this be not 2 yet your case, fly from your former habits; fly
from the vulgar, if you would ever begin to be anything.

1 62 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XVII

OF PROVIDENCE

i. WHENEVER you lay anything to the charge of Providence,
do but reflect, and you will find that it hath happened agreeably
to reason. ,

Well, but a dishonest man hath the advantage.

In what?

In money.

Why, he is better qualified for it 1 than you; because he
flatters, he throws away shame, he keeps awake; and where
is the wonder? But look whether he hath the advantage of
you in fidelity or in honour. You will find he hath not; but
that wherever it is best for you to have the advantage of him,
there you have it. I once said to one who was full of indignation
at the good fortune of Philostorgus, " Why, would you be
willing to sleep with Sura? " 2 Heaven forbid, said he, that
day should ever come! Why, then, are you angry, that he is
paid for what he sells; or how can you call him happy, in
possessions acquired by means which you detest? Or what
harm doth providence do, in giving the best things to the best
men? Is it not better to have a sense of honour, than to be
rich? Granted. Why, then, are you angry, man, if you have
what is best? Always remember, then, and have it ready, that
a better man hath the advantage of a worse in that instance in
which he is better, and you will never have any indignation.

But my wife treats me ill.

Well, if you are asked what is the matter, answer, " My wife
treats me ill."

Nothing more?

Nothing.

My father gives me nothing. What is the matter? My
father gives me nothing. To denominate this an evil, some
external and false addition must be made. We are not there-
fore to get rid of Poverty; but of our principle concerning it,
and we shall do well.

When Galba was killed, somebody said to Rufus, " Now,
indeed, the world is governed by Providence." I never thought,
answered Rufus, of bringing the slightest proof that the world
was governed by Providence, from Galba.

Only Guilt Brings Suffering 163

CHAPTER XVIII

THAT WE OUGHT NOT TO BE ALARMED BY ANY NEWS THAT
IS BROUGHT US

i. WHEN any alarming news is brought you, always have it
at hand that no news can be brought you concerning what is
in your own choice. Can any one bring you news that your
opinions or desires are ill conducted? By no means; but that
somebody is dead. What is that to you, then? That some-
body speaks ill of you. And what is that to you, then? That
your father is forming some contrivance or other. Against
what ? Against your choice ? How can he ? Well, but against
your body, against your estate? You are very safe; this is not
against you. But the judge hath pronounced you guilty of
impiety. And did not the judges pronounce the same of
Socrates ? Is his pronouncing a sentence any business of yours ?
No. Then why do you any longer trouble yourself about it?
There is a duty incumbent on your father, which, unless he per-
forms, he loses the character of a father, of natural affection, of
tenderness. Do not want him to lose anything else by this,
for no person is ever guilty in one instance, and a sufferer in
another. Your duty, on the other hand, is to make your
defence with constancy, modesty, and mildness; otherwise you
lose the character of filial piety, of modesty, and generosity of
mind. Well, and is your judge free from danger? No. He
runs an equal hazard. Why, then, are you still afraid of his
decision? What have you to do with the evil of another?
Making a bad defence would be your own evil. Let it be your
only care to avoid that ; but whether sentence is passed on you
or not, as it is the business, so it is the evil, of another. " Such
a one threatens you/' Me? No. "He censures you." Let
him look to it, how he doth his own business. " He will give an
unjust sentence against you." Poor wretch 1

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CHAPTER XIX

WHAT IS THE CONDITION OF THE VULGAR, AND WHAT
OF A PHILOSOPHER

i. THE first difference between one of the vulgar and a philo-
sopher is this : the one says, I am undone on the account of my
child, my brother, my father; but the other, if ever he be
obliged to say, I am undone ! reflects, and adds, On account of
myself. For choice cannot be restrained or hurt by anything
to which choice doth not extend, but only by itself. If, there-
fore, we always would incline this way, and, whenever we are
unsuccessful, would lay the fault on ourselves, and remember
that there is no cause of perturbation and inconstancy but prin-
ciple, I engage we should make some proficiency. But we set
out in a very different way, from the very beginning. In
infancy, for example, if we happen to stumble, our nurse doth
not chide us, but beats the stone. Why, what harm hath the
stone done? Was it to move out of its place for the folly of
your child? Again, if we do not find something to eat when
we come out of the bath, our governor doth not try to moderate
our appetite, but beats the cook. Why, did we appoint you
governor of the cook, man? No, but of our child. It is he
whom you are to correct and improve. By these means, even
when we are grown up, we appear children. For an unmusical
person is a child in music; an illiterate person, a child in learn-
ing; and an untaught one, a child in life.

CHAPTER XX

THAT SOME ADVANTAGE MAY BE GAINED FROM EVERY
EXTERNAL CIRCUMSTANCE

i. IN appearances that are merely objects of contemplation,
almost all persons have allowed good and evil to be in ourselves,
and not in externals. No one says, It is good to be day, evil
to be night, and the greatest evil that three should be four;
but what? That knowledge is good, and error evil. So that,
concerning falsehood itself, there exists one good thing, 1 the

Advantage from Conflict 165

knowledge that it is falsehood. Thus then should it be in life
also. Health is a good, sickness an evil. No, sir. But what?
A right use of health is a good, a wrong one an evil. So that, in
truth, it is possible to be a gainer even by sickness. And is it
not possible by death too? By mutilation? Do you think
Menoeceus 2 an inconsiderable gainer by death? "May
whoever talks thus be such a gainer as he was! " Why, pray,
sir, did not he preserve his patriotism, his magnanimity, his
fidelity, his gallant spirit? And, if he had lived on, would he
not have lost all these? Would not cowardice, mean-spirited-
ness, and hatred of his country, and a wretched love of life, have
been his portion? Well, now, do not you think him a con-
siderable gainer by dying? No; but, I warrant you, the father
of Admetus 3 was a great gainer, by living on in so mean-spirited
and wretched a way as he did! Why, did not he die at last?
For heaven's sake, cease to be thus struck by the mere materials
[of action]. Cease to make yourselves slaves, first of things,
and then upon their account, of the men who have the power
either to bestow or take them away. Is there any advantage
then to be gained from these men? From all, even from a
reviler. What advantage doth a wrestler gain from him with
whom he exercises himself, before the combat? The greatest.
Why, just in the same manner I exercise myself with this man.
4 He exercises me in patience, in gentleness, in meekness. No;
but I suppose I gain an advantage from him who manages my
neck, and sets my back and shoulders in order; and the best
thing a master of exercise can say is, " Lift him up with both
hands," and the heavier he is, the greater is my advantage;
and yet, it is no advantage to me when I am exercised in gentle-
ness of temper! This is not knowing how to gain an advantage
from men. Is my neighbour a bad one? He is so to himself;
but a good one to me. He exercises my good temper, my
moderation. Is my father bad? To himself, but not to me.
" This is the rod of Hermes. Touch with it whatever you
please, and it will become gold/* No; but bring whatever
you please, and I will turn it into good. Bring sickness, death,
want, reproach, capital trial. All these, by the rod of Hermes,
shall turn to advantage. " What will you make of death ? "
Why, what but an ornament to you; what but a means of
your showing, by action, 6 what the man is who knows and
follows the will of nature. " What will you make of sickness ? "
I will show its nature. I will make a good figure in it; I
will be composed and happy. I will not flatter my physician.
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1 66 The Discourses of Epictetus

I will not wish to die. What need you ask further? What-
ever you give me, I will make it happy, fortunate, respectable,
and eligible. No. " But, take care not to be sick." Just as
if one should say, " Take care that the appearance of three
being four doth not present itself to you." " It is an evil."
How an evil, man? If I think as I ought about it, what hurt
will it any longer do me? Will it not rather be even an advan-
tage to me ? If then, I think as I ought of poverty, of sickness,
of being out of power, is not that enough for me ? Why, then,
must I any longer seek good or evil in externals? But what is
the state of the case? These things are allowed here, but
nobody carries them home, but immediately every one is in a
state of war with his servant, his neighbours, with those who
sneer and ridicule him. Well fare Lesbius, 6 for proving every
day that I know nothing.

CHAPTER XXI

CONCERNING THOSE WHO READILY SET UP FOR SOPHISTS

i. l THEY who have received bare propositions are presently
inclined to throw them up, as a sick stomach doth its food.
First concoct it, and then you will not throw it up; otherwise it
will be crude and impure and unfit for nourishment. But show
us, from what you have digested, some change in your ruling
faculty; as wrestlers do in their shoulders, from their exercise
and their diet; as artificers in their skill, from what they have
learnt. A carpenter doth not come and say, " Hear me discourse
on the art of building "; but he hires a house and fits it up and
shows himself master of his trade. Let it be your business
likewise to do something like this : eat like a man ; drink, dress,
marry, have children, perform the duty of a citizen; bear
reproach; bear with an unreasonable brother; bear with a
father; bear with a son, a neighbour, a companion, as becomes
a man. Show us these things that we may see that you have
really learnt somewhat from the philosophers. No; " But come
and hear me repeat commentaries." Get you gone, and seek
somebody else to throw them out upon. "Nay, but I will
explain the doctrines of Chrysippus to you, so as no other person
can ; I will elucidate his diction in the clearest manner." And
is it for this, then, that young men leave their country and

A True Education 1 67

their own parents, that they may come and hear you explain
words? Ought they not to return patient, active, free from
passion, free from perturbation; furnished with such a pro-
vision for life that, setting out with it, they will be able to bear
all events well, and derive ornament from them? But how
should you impart what you have not ? For have you yourself
done anything else from the beginning but spent your time in
solving syllogisms and convertible propositions and inter-
rogatory arguments? " But such a one hath a school, and
why should not I have one? " Wretch, these things are not
effected in a careless and fortuitous manner. But there must
be age and a method of life and a guiding God. Is it not so?
No one quits the port or sets sail till he hath sacrificed to the
gods, and implored their assistance; nor do men sow without
first invoking Ceres. And shall any one who hath undertaken
so great a work undertake it safely without the gods ? And shall
they, who apply to such a one, apply to him with success?
What are you doing else, man, but divulging the mysteries?
And you say, " There is a temple at Eleusis, and here is one too.
There is a priest, 2 and I will make a priest here; there is a
herald, and I will appoint a herald too; there is a torch-bearer,
and I will have a torch-bearer; there are torches, and so shall
there be here. The words said, the things done are the same.
Where is the difference betwixt one and the other? " Most
impious man ! is there no difference ? Are these things of use
out of place, and out of time ? A man should come with sacri-
fices and prayers, previously purified, and his mind affected with
a sense that he is approaching to sacred and ancient rites. Thus
the mysteries become useful; thus we come to have an idea
that all these things were appointed by the ancients for the
instruction and correction of life. But you divulge and publish
them, without regard to time and place, without sacrifices,
without purity; you have not the garment that is necessary
for a priest, nor the hair or the girdle 3 that is necessary ; nor
the voice, nor the age; nor have you purified yourself like him.
But, when you have got the words by heart, you say, " The
words are sacred of themselves." These things are to be
approached in another manner. It is a great, it is a mystical
affair; not given by chance, or to everyone indifferently. Nay,
mere wisdom, perhaps, is not a sufficient qualification for
the care of youth. There ought to be likewise a certain readi-
ness and aptitude for this, and, indeed, a particular constitution
of body; and, above all, a counsel from God to undertake this

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office, as he counselled Socrates to undertake the office of con-
futation; Diogenes, that of authoritative reproof; Zeno, that
of dogmatical instruction. But you set up for a physician,
provided with nothing but medicines, and without knowing, or
having studied, where or how they are to be applied. " Why,
such a one had medicines for the eyes, and I have the same."
Have you, then, a faculty too of making use of them ? Do you
at all know when and how and to whom they will be of service ?
Why, then, do you act at hazard? Why are you careless in
things of the greatest importance? Why do you attempt a
matter unsuitable to you ? Leave it to those who can perform
it, and do it honour. Do not you, too, bring a scandal upon
philosophy by your means, nor be one of those who cause the
thing itself to be culumniated. But, if theorems delight you,
sit quiet, and turn them every way by yourself; but never call
yourself a philosopher, nor suffer another to call you so ; but say,
" He is mistaken; for my desires are not different from what
they were; nor my pursuits directed to other objects; nor my
assent otherwise given; nor have I at all made any change
in the use of the appearances, from my former condition."
Think and speak thus of yourself, if you would think as you
ought; if not, act at all hazards, and do as you do, for it be-
comes you.

CHAPTER XXII

OF THE CYNIC PHILOSOPHY 1

i. WHEN one of his scholars, who seemed inclined to the
Cynic philosophy, asked him what a Cynic must be, and what
was the general plan of that sect? Let us examine it, says he,
at our leisure. But thus much I can tell you now, that he who
attempts so great an affair without God, 2 is an object of divine
wrath, and would only bring public dishonour upon himself.
For, in a well-regulated house, no one comes and says to himself,
" I ought to be the manager here." If he doth, and the master s
returns and sees him insolently giving orders, he drags him out
and hath him whipped. Such is the case likewise in this great
city [of the world]. For here, too, is a master of the family, who
orders everything. "You are the sun: you can, by making
a circuit, form the year and the seasons, and increase and

Cynic Philosophy 169

nourish the fruits; raise and calm the winds, and give a
moderate warmth to the bodies of men. Go ; make your circuit,
and thus intimately move everything from the greatest to the
least. You are a calf; when the lion appears, do your part, 4 or
you will suffer for it. You are a bull ; come and fight, for that
is incumbent on you, and becomes you, and you can do it. You
can lead an army to Troy; be you Agamemnon. You can
engage in single combat with Hector; be you Achilles." But,
if Thersites had come and claimed the command, either he
would not have obtained it, or, if he had, he would have dis-
graced himself before the more witnesses.

2. Do you, too, carefully deliberate upon this matter; it is
not what you think it. "I wear an old cloak now, and I shall
have one then. I sleep upon the hard ground now, and I shall
sleep so then. I will moreover take a wallet and a staff and go
about, and will beg of those I meet, and begin by abusing 6
them; and, if I see any one using means to take off the hair
from his face or body, or setting his curls, or walking in purple,
I will rebuke him." If you imagine this to be the thing, avaunt;
come not near it; it doth not belong to you. But, if you
imagine it to be what it really is, and do not think yourself un-
worthy of it, consider how great a thing you undertake. First,
with regard to yourself: you must no longer, in any instance,
appear like what you do now. You must accuse neither God
nor man. You must totally suppress desire, and must transfer
aversion to such things only as are dependent on choice. You
must have neither anger, nor resentment, nor envy, nor pity.
Neither boy, nor girl, nor fame, nor delicacies in eating must
have charms for you. For you must know that other men in-
deed fence themselves with walls and houses and darkness when
they do anything of this kind, and have many concealments; a
man shuts the door, places somebody before the apartment;
" Say, He is gone out; say, He is not at leisure." But the
Cynic, instead of all this, must fence himself with virtuous
shame ; otherwise he will act indecently, naked, and in the open
air. This is his house; this his door; this his porter; this his
darkness. He must not wish to conceal anything relating to
himself ; for, if he doth, he is gone ; he hath lost the Cynic, the
open, the free character; he hath begun to fear something
external ; he hath begun to need a concealment, nor can he get
it when he will. For where shall he conceal himself, or how?
For if this tutor, this pedagogue of the public, should happen
to slip, what must he suffer? Can he, then, who dreads these

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things be thoroughly bold within and prescribe to other men?
Impracticable, impossible.

3. In the first place, then, you must purify your own ruling
faculty, conformably 6 to this method of life. Now, the subject-
matter for me to work upon is my own mind, as wood is for a
carpenter or leather for a shoemaker; and my business is, a
right use of the appearances of things. But body is nothing to
me; its parts nothing to me. Let death come when it will,
either of the whole or of a part. " Go into exile." And whither ?
Can any one turn me out of the world? He cannot. But
wherever I go, there is the sun, the moon, the stars, dreams,
auguries, communication with God. And even this prepara-
tion is by no means sufficient for a true Cynic. But it must
further be known that he is a messenger sent from Jupiter to
men concerning good and evil; to show them that they are
mistaken, and seek the essence of good and evil where it is not,
but do not observe it where it is ; that he is a spy, like Diogenes,
when he was brought to Philip after the battle of Chaeronea. 7
For, in effect, a Cynic is a spy to discover what things are
friendly, what hostile, to man; and he must, after making an
accurate observation, come and tell them the truth; not be
struck with terror, so as to point out to them enemies where
there are none; nor, in any other instance, disconcerted or
confounded by appearances.

4. He must then, if it should so happen, be able to lift up
his voice, come upon the stage, and say, like Socrates, " O
mortals, whither are you hurrying? What are you about?
Why do you tumble up and down, wretches, like blind men?
You are going a wrong way, and have forsaken the right. You
seek prosperity and happiness 8 in a wrong place, where it is
not; nor do you give credit to another who shows you where it
is. Why do you seek it without? It is not in body: if you
do not believe me, look upon Myro, 9 look upon Ofellius. It is
not in wealth: if you do not believe me, look upon Croesus, look
upon the rich of the present age, how full of lamentation their
life is. It is not in power; for, otherwise, they who have been
twice and thrice consuls must be happy, but they are not. To
whom shall we give credit in this affair? To you who look only
upon the externals of their condition, and are dazzled by appear-
ances, or to themselves? What do they say? Hear them
when they groan, when they sigh, when they think themselves
more wretched and in more danger from these very consul-
ships, this glory and splendour. It is not in empire; otherwise

The Parting of Soul and Body 171

Nero and Sardanapalus had been happy. But not even
Agamemnon was happy, though a better man than Sardanapalus
or Nero. But, when others are snoring, what is he doing? "

" He rends his hairs . . ."

And what doth he say himself?

" Scarce can my knees these trembling limbs sustain,
And scarce my heart support its load of pain." POPE.

Why, which of your affairs goes ill, poor wretch? Your
possessions? No. Your body? No. But you have gold
and brass in abundance. What, then, goes ill? That part of
you, whatever it be called, is neglected and corrupted by which
we desire and are averse, by which we pursue and avoid.
How neglected? It is ignorant of that for which it was
naturally formed, of the essence of good, and of the essence of
evil. It is ignorant what is its own, and what another's. And,
when anything belonging to others goes ill, it says, " I am
undone, the Greeks are in danger!" (Poor ruling faculty!
which alone is neglected and hath no care taken of it.) " They
will die by the sword of the Trojans! " And, if the Trojans
should not kill them, will they not die? " Yes, but not all at
once." Why, where is the difference? For, if it be an evil to
die, whether it be all at once or singly, it is equally an evil.
Will anything more happen than the separation of soul and
body? 10 "Nothing." And, when the Greeks perish, is the
door shut against you ? Is it not in your own power to die ?
" It is." Why, then, do you lament while you are a king and
hold the sceptre of Jove? A king is no more to be made un-
fortunate than a god. What are you, then? You are a shep-
herd, 11 truly so called; for you weep, just as shepherds do when
the wolf seizes any of their sheep, and they who are governed
by you are mere sheep. But why did you come hither? Was
your desire in any danger? Your aversion? Your pursuits?
Your avoidances? " No," says he, "but my brother's wife
hath been stolen." Is it not great good luck then to be rid of
a sorry adulterous wife? " But must we be held in contempt
by the Trojans? " What are they? Wise men or fools? If
wise, why do you go to war with them? If fools, why do you
mind them?

5. Where, then, doth our good lie, since it doth not lie in
these things? Tell us, sir, you who are our messenger and spy.
Where you do not think, nor are willing to seek it. For, if

172 The Discourses of Epictetus

you were willing, you would find it in yourselves; nor would you
wander abroad, nor seek what belongs to others, as your own.
Turn your thoughts into yourselves. Consider the precon-
ceptions which you have. What do you imagine good to be?
What is prosperous, happy, unhindered. Well, and do not
you naturally imagine it great? Do not you imagine it valu-
able? Do not you imagine it incapable of being hurt? In
what materials, then, must you seek prosperity and exemption
from hindrance? In that which is enslaved, or free? In the
free. Is your body, then, enslaved or free? We do not know.
Do not you know that it is the slave of fever, gout, defluxion,
dysentery; of a tyrant; of fire, steel; of everything stronger
than itself ? Yes, it is a slave. How, then, can anything belong-
ing to the body be unhindered ? And how can that be great, or
valuable, which is by nature lifeless, earth, clay? What then,
have you nothing free? Possibly nothing. Why, who can
compel you to assent to what appears false ? No one. Or who,
not to assent to what appears true? No one. Here, then, you
see that there is something in you, by nature, free. But who
of you can desire or be averse, or use his active powers of pur-
suit or avoidance, or concert, or purpose, unless he hath been
impressed by an appearance of its being for his advantage or his
duty? No one. You have, then, in these too, something un-
restrained and free. Cultivate this, wretches; take care of
this, seek for good here. " But how is it possible that a man
worth nothing, naked, without house or home, squalid, un-
attended, who belongs to no country, can lead a prosperous life ? "
See, God hath sent us one to show, in fact, that it is possible. 12
" Take notice of me, that I am without a country, without a
house, without an estate, without a servant; I lie on the ground;
no wife, no children, no coat, 13 but only earth and heaven and
one sorry cloak. And what do I want? Am not I without
sorrow, without fear? Am not I free? Did any of you ever
see me disappointed of my desires, or incurring my aversion?
Did I ever blame God or man? Did I ever accuse any one?
Hath any of you seen me look discontented? How do I treat
those whom you fear, and of whom you are struck with awe?
Is it not like sorry slaves ? What that sees me doth not think
that he sees his own king and master? " This is the language,
this the character, this the undertaking, of a Cynic. No, I
warrant you, but the wallet and the staff and the great jaws;
swallowing or treasuring up whatever is given you, abusing
unseasonably those you meet, or showing a brawny arm. Do

Suffer and Complain Not 173

you consider how you shall attempt so important an affair?
First take a mirror. View your shoulders, examine your back,
your thighs. You are going to be enrolled a combatant at the
Olympic games, man; not in a poor, slight contest. In the
Olympic games, a champion is not allowed merely to be con-
quered and depart, but must first be disgraced in the view of
the whole world, not only of the Athenians or Spartans or
Nicopolitans ; and then he who hath rashly departed must
be whipped too, and, before that, must suffer thirst and heat,
and swallow an abundance of dust.

6. Consider carefully, know yourself, consult the divinity,
attempt nothing without God; for, if he counsels you, be
assured that it is his will that you should be a great man, or
[which comes to the same thing] suffer many a blow. For
there is this very fine circumstance connected with the character
of a Cynic, that he must be beat like an ass, and, when he is beat,
must love those who beat him, as the father, as the brother of
all. 14 No, to be sure; but, if anybody beats you, stand publicly
and roar out, " O Csesar, am I to suffer such things in breach of
your peace? Let us go before the proconsul." But what is
Csesar to a Cynic, or what is the proconsul, or any one else, but
Jupiter ? who hath deputed him, and whom he serves. Doth he
invoke any other but him? And is he not persuaded, that
whatever he suffers of this sort, it is Jupiter who doth it to
exercise him? Now, Hercules, when he was exercised by
Eurystheus, did not think himself miserable, but executed with
alacrity all that was to be done. And shall he who is appointed
to the combat, and exercised by Jupiter, cry out and take
offence at things? A worthy person, truly, to bear the sceptre
of Diogenes! Hear what he, in a fever, said to those who
were passing by. 15 " Sorry wretches, why do not you stay?
Do you take such a journey to Olympia, to see the destruc tion
or combat of the champions; and have you no inclination to
see the combat between a man and a fever? " Such a one, who
took a pride in difficult circumstances, and thought himself
worthy to be a spectacle to those who passed by, was a likely
person, indeed, to accuse God, who had deputed him, as treat-
ing him unworthily ! For what subject of accusation shall he
find? That he preserves a decency of behaviour? With what
doth he find fault? That he sets his own virtue in a clearer
light? Well, and what doth he say of poverty? of death? of
pain? How did he compare his happiness with that of the
Persian king; or, rather, thought it beyond comparison? For,
*G 44

174 The Discourses of Epictetus

amidst perturbations and griefs and fears, and disappointed
desires and incurred aversions, how can there be any entrance
for happiness? And, where there are corrupt principles, there
must all these things necessarily be.

7, The same young man inquiring whether, if a friend
should be willing to come to him and take care of him when he
is sick, he should comply? And where, says Epictetus, will
you find me the friend of a Cynic ? For to be worthy of being
numbered among his friends, a person ought to be such another
as himself; he ought to be a partner of the sceptre and the
kingdom, and a worthy minister, if he would be honoured with
his friendship, as Diogenes was the friend of Antisthenes, as
Crates of Diogenes. Do you think that he who only comes to
him and salutes him is his friend, and that he will think him
worthy of being entertained as such? If such a thought comes
into your head, rather look round you for some clever dunghill,
to shelter you in your fever from the north wind, that you may
not perish by taking cold. But you seem to me to want only
to get into somebody's house, and to be well fed there a while.
What business have you, then, even to attempt so important
an affair as this ?

8. But (said the young man) will a Cynic engage himself in
marriage, and the production of children, as a principal point ? 16
If you will allow me a republic of sages, no one there, perhaps,
will readily apply himself to the Cynic philosophy. For on
whose account should he embrace that method of life? How-
ever, suppose he doth, there will be nothing to restrain him
from marrying and having children. For his wife will be such
another as himself, his father-in-law such another as himself,
and his children will be brought up in the same manner. But
as the state of things now is like that of an army prepared for
battle, is it not necessary that a Cynic should be without dis-
traction; 17 entirely attentive to the service of God; at liberty
to walk about among mankind; not tied down to vulgar duties,
nor entangled in relations which, if he transgresses, he will no
longer keep the character of a wise and good man; and which,
if he observes, there is an end of him as the messenger and spy
and herald of the gods? For, consider, there are some offices
due to his father-in-law, some to the other relations of his wife,
some to his wife herself; besides, after this, he is confined 18
to the care of his family when sick, and making provision for
their support. Not to speak of other things, he must have a
vessel to warm water in, to bathe his child. There must be

Why the Teacher Must Not Marry 175

wool, oil, a bed, a cup for his wife, after her delivery ; and thus
the furniture increases: more business, more distraction.
Where for the future is this king, whose time is devoted to the
public good ?

" To whom its safety a whole people owes."

Who ought to oversee others, married men, fathers of children;
to observe who treats his wife well, who ill; who quarrels;
which family is well regulated, which not : like a physician, who
goes about and feels the pulse of his patients; " You have a
fever, you the headache, you the gout. Do you abstain from
food, 19 do you eat, do you omit bathing, you must have an
incision made, you be cauterised." Where shall he have
leisure for this, who is tied down to vulgar duties? Must
not he provide clothes for his children, and send them with pens
and ink and paper to a schoolmaster? Must not he provide a
bed for them? (For they cannot be Cynics from their very
birth.) Otherwise, it would have been better to expose them
as soon as they were born than to kill them thus. Do you see
to what we bring down our Cynic ? How we deprive him of his
kingdom? " Well, but Crates 20 was married." The cause of
which you speak was a particular one, arising from love, and
the woman another Crates. But we are inquiring about
ordinary and common 21 marriages, and in this inquiry we do
not find the affair mightily suited to the condition of a
Cynic.

9. How, then, shall he keep up society ?

For heaven's sake, do they confer a greater benefit upon the
world who leave two or three snivelling children in their stead,
than those who as far as possible oversee all mankind; what
they do, how they live, what they attend to, what they neglect,
contrary to their duty? Did all they who left children to the
Thebans do them more good than Epaminondas who died
childless? And did Priam, who was the father of fifty pro-
fligates, or Danaus, 22 or ^Eolus, conduce more to the advantage
of society than Homer? Shall a military command or any
other post, then, exempt a man from marrying and becoming a
father, so that he shall be thought to have made sufficient
amends for the want of children; and shall not the kingdom
of a Cynic be a proper compensation for it? Perhaps we do not
understand his grandeur, nor duly represent to ourselves the
character of Diogenes; but consider Cynics as they are now,
who stand like dogs watching at tables, and who imitate the

176 The Discourses of Epictetus

others in nothing, unless perhaps in breaking wind, but abso-
lutely in nothing besides, else this [which you have objected]
would not move us, nor should we be astonished that a Cynic
will not marry nor have children. Consider, sir, that he is the
father of humankind, that all men are his sons, and all women
his daughters. Thus he attends, thus takes care of all. What !
do you think it is from impertinence that he rebukes those he
meets? He doth it as a father, as a brother, as a minister of
the common parent, Jove.

10. Ask me if you please, too, whether a Cynic will engage
in the administration of the commonwealth. What common-
wealth do you inquire after, blockhead, greater than what he
administers? Whether he will harangue among the Athenians
about revenues and taxes, whose business it is to debate with
all mankind; with the Athenians, Corinthians, and Romans
equally, not about taxes and revenues, or peace and war, but
about happiness and misery, prosperity and adversity, slavery
and freedom. Do you ask me whether a man engages in the
administration of the commonwealth who administers such a
commonwealth as this? Ask me, too, whether he will accept
any command ? I will answer you again, what command, fool,
greater than that which he now exercises ?

ii. A Cynic, however, hath need of a constitution duly
qualified ; for, if he should appear consumptive, thin, and pale,
his testimony hath no longer the same authority. For he must
not only give a proof to the vulgar, by the constancy of his
mind, that it is possible to be a man of figure and merit without
those things that strike them with admiration; but he must
show too, by his body, that a simple and slender diet under the
open air doth no injury to the constitution. " See, I and my
body are a witness of this." As Diogenes did; for he went
about fresh and plump, and gained the attention of the many
by the very appearance of a healthy body. But a pitiable Cynic
seems a mere beggar; all avoid him, all are offended at him;
for he ought not to appear slovenly, so as to drive people
from him; but even his rough negligence should be neat and
engaging.

12. Much natural agreeableness and acuteness are likewise
necessary in a Cynic (otherwise he becomes a mere driveller,
and nothing else), that he may be able to give an answer readily
and pertinently upon every occasion. Like Diogenes to one
who asked him: " Are you that Diogenes who do not believe
there are any gods? " "How so/' replied he, " when I think

Patience 177

you odious to them? " Again, when Alexander surprised him
sleeping, and repeated,

"To waste long nights in indolent repose
III fits a chief, who mighty nations guides,"

before he was quite awake he answered,

" Directs in council, and in war presides.'*

POPE'S Homer. B. ii. v. 27.

13. But above all, the ruling faculty of a Cynic must be
purer than the sun, otherwise he must necessarily be a common
cheat, and a rascal, if, while he is guilty of some vice himself, he
reproves others. For, consider how the case stands. Arms and
guards give a power to common kings and tyrants of reproving
and of punishing delinquents, though they are wicked them-
selves; but to a Cynic, instead of arms and guards, conscience
gives this power, when he knows that he hath watched and
laboured for mankind ; that he hath slept pure, and waked still
purer ; and that he hath regulated all his thoughts as the friend,
as the minister of the gods, as a partner of the empire of Jupiter ;
that he is ready to say upon all occasions,

41 Conduct me, Jove; and thou, O Destiny."

And, " If it thus pleases the gods, thus let it be." Why should
he not dare to speak boldly to his own brethren, to his children ;
in a word, to his kindred? Hence he who is thus qualified is
neither impertinent nor a busybody, for he is not busied about
the affairs of others, but his own, when he oversees the trans-
actions of men. Otherwise say that a general is a busybody when
he oversees, examines, and watches his soldiers, and punishes the
disorderly. But if you reprove others at the very time that you
have a cake under your own arm, I will ask you: Had you not
better, sir, go into a corner and eat up what you have stolen?
But what have you to do with the concerns of others? For
what are you ? Are you the bull in the herd, or the queen of
the bees? Show me such ensigns of empire as she hath from
nature. But, if you are a drone, and arrogate to yourself the
kingdom of the bees, do not you think that your fellow-citizens
will drive you out, just as the bees do the drones ?

14. A Cynic must besides have so much patience as to seem
insensible and a stone to the vulgar. No one reviles, no one
beats, no one affronts him; but he hath surrendered his body
to be treated at pleasure by any one who will. For he remembers
that the inferior, in whatever instance it is the inferior, must be

178 The Discourses of Epictetus

conquered by the superior, and the body is inferior to the
multitude, the weaker to the stronger. He never therefore
enters into a combat where he can be conquered, but immediately
gives up what belongs to others; he doth not claim what is
slavish and dependent; but, where choice and the use of the
Appearances are concerned, you will see that he hath so many
eyes, you would say Argos was blind to him. Is his assent ever
precipitate? His pursuits ever rash? His desire ever dis-
appointed? His aversion ever incurred? His intention ever
fruitless? Is he ever querulous, ever dejected, ever envious?
Here lies all his attention and application. With regard to other
things, he snores supine. All is peace. There is no robber, no
tyrant of the choice. But of the body? Yes. The estate?
Yes. Magistracies and honours? Yes. And what doth he
care for these? When any one therefore would frighten him
with them, he says, " Go, look for children, vizards are frightful
to them; but I know they are only shell, and have nothing
within side."

15. Such is the affair about which you are deliberating;
therefore, if you please, for heaven's sake defer it; and first
consider how you are prepared for it. Mind what Hector says
to Andromache:

" No more -but hasten to thy tasks at home,
There guide the spindle, and direct the loom.
Me, glory summons to the martial scene,
The field of combat is the sphere for men."

POPE'S Homer.

Thus conscious he was of his own qualifications and of her
weakness.

CHAPTER XXIII

CONCERNING SUCH AS READ AND DISPUTE OSTENTATIOUSLY

i. FIRST say to yourself what you would be, and then do
what you have to do. For in almost everything else we see this
to be the practice. Olympic champions first determine what
they would be, and then act accordingly. To a racer in a longer
course there must be one kind of diet, walking, anointing, and
exercise; to one in a shorter all these must be different, and to a
pentathlete 1 still more different. You will find the case the

The End of Training 179

same in the manual arts. If a carpenter, you must have such
and such things ; if a smith, such other. For, if we do not refer
each of our actions to some end we shall act at random ; if to an
improper one we shall miss our aim. Further, there is a general
and a particular end. First, to act as a man. What i? compre-
hended in this? Not to be, though gentle, like a sheep; nor
mischievous like a wild beast. But the particular end relates
to the study and choice of each individual. A harper is to act
as a harper; a carpenter, as a carpenter; a philosopher, as a
philosopher; an orator, as an orator. When therefore you say,
" Come and hear me read," observe first, not to do this at
random; and, in the next place, after you have found to what
end you refer it, consider whether it be a proper one. Would
you be useful, or be praised? You presently hear him say,
"What, do I value the praise of the multitude?" And he
says well, for this is nothing to a musician or a geometrician, as
such. You would be useful, then. In what? Tell us, that
we too may run to make part of your audience. Now, is it
possible for any one to benefit others who hath received no
benefit himself? No; for neither can he who is not a carpenter
or a shoemaker benefit any in respect to those arts. Would
you know, then, whether you have received benefit? Produce
your principles, philosopher; what is the aim and promise of
desire? Not to be disappointed. What of aversion? Not to
be incurred. Come, do we fulfil this promise? Tell me the
truth; but, if you falsify, I will tell it you. The other day,
when your audience came but coldly together, and did not
receive what you said with acclamations of applause, you went
away dejected. Again, the other day, when you were praised,
you went about asking everybody, " What did you think of
me? " " Upon my life, sir, it was prodigious." " But how did
I express myself upon that subject? ""Which?" "Where
I gave a description of Pan and the nymphs." 2 " Most excel-
lently." And do you tell me, after this, that you regulate your
desires and aversions conformably to nature? Get you gone.
Persuade somebody else. Did not you the other day praise a
man contrary to your own opinion? Did not you flatter a
certain senator? Would you wish your own children to be
like him? "Heaven forbid!" " Why, then, did you praise
and cajole him?" "He is an ingenious young man, and
attentive to discourses." " How so? " " He admires me."
Now, indeed, you have produced your proof. After all, what
do you think? Do not these very people secretly despise you?

180 The Discourses of Epictetus

When therefore a man, conscious of no good action or intention,
finds some philosopher saying, " You are a great genius, and of
a frank and candid disposition," what do you think he says
but, " This man hath some need of me "? Pray tell me what
action of a great genius he hath shown. You see, he hath long
conversed with you, hath heard your discourses, hath heard
your lectures. Hath he turned his attention to himself? Hath
he perceived his own faults? Hath he thrown oil his conceit?
Doth he seek an instructor? Yes, he doth. An instructor
how to live? No, fool, but how to talk; for it is upon this
account that he admires you. Hear what he says. " This
man writes with very great art, and much more finely than
Dion." 3 That is quite another thing. Doth he say, This is a
modest, faithful, calm person? But, if he said this too, I
would ask him, since he is faithful, What is it to be faithful? 4
And, if he could not tell, I would add, First learn the meaning of
what you say, and then speak. While you are in this bad dis-
position, then, and gaping after applauders, and counting your
hearers, would you be of benefit to others? "To-day I had
many more hearers." " Yes, many; we think there were five
hundred." You say nothing; make them a thousand. " Dion
never had so great an audience." " How should he? " " And
they have a fine taste for discourses." " What is excellent, sir,
will move even a stone." Here is the language of a philosopher I
Here is the disposition of one who is to be beneficial to mankind !
Here is the man attentive to discourses! who hath read the
works of the Socratic philosophers, as such; not as if they were
the writings of orators, like Lysias and Isocrates. " I have often
wondered by what arguments," 6 etc. No; " by what argu-
ment "; that is the more perfectly accurate expression. Is this
to have read them any otherwise than as you read little pieces of
poetry ? If you read them as you ought, you would not dwell
on such trifles, but would rather consider such a passage as this:
" Anytus and Melitus may kill, but they cannot hurt me."
And, " I am always so disposed as to regard none of my friends,
but that reason which, after examination, appears to me to be
the best." Hence, who ever heard Socrates say, " I know, or
teach, anything "? But he sent different people to different
instructors; so they came to him, desiring to be recommended
to the philosophers; and he took and recommended them. No;
but I warrant you, as he accompanied them, he used to give
them such advice as this: " Hear me discourse to-day at the
bouse of Quadratus." e Why should I hear you ? Have you

The Philosopher's Surgery 1 8 1

a mind to show me how finely you put words together, sir?
And what good doth that do you ? " But praise me/' What do
you mean by praising you ? " Say, incomparable 1 prodigious ! "
Well, I do say it. But, if praise be that which the philo-
sophers call by the appellation of good, what have I to praise
you for? If it be a good to speak well, teach me, and I will
praise you. " What, then, ought these things to be heard
without pleasure? " By no means. I do not hear even a
harper without pleasure; but am I therefore to stand playing
upon the harp? Hear what Socrates says to his judges: " It
would not be decent for me to appear before you, at this age,
composing speeches like a boy." Like a boy, says he. For
it is, without doubt, a pretty knack to choose out words and
place them together, and then to read or speak them gracefully
in public; and, in the midst of the discourse, to observe that
" He vows by all that is good, there are but few capable of these
things." But doth a philosopher apply to people to hear him?
Doth not he attract those who are fitted to receive benefit from
him, in the same manner as the sun or their necessary food doth?
What physician applies to anybody to be cured by him?
(Though now, indeed, I hear that the physicians at Rome apply
for patients; but in my time they were applied to.) " I apply
to you to come and hear that you are in a bad way; and that
you take care of everything but what you ought; that you
know not what is good or evil, and are unfortunate and un-
happy." A fine application! And yet, unless the discourse
of a philosopher hath this effect, both that and the speaker are
void of life. 7 Rufus used to say, If you are at leisure to praise
me, I speak to no purpose. And indeed he used to speak in
such a manner that each of us who heard him supposed that
some person had accused us to him; he so hit upon what was
done by us, and placed the faults of every one before his eyes.

2. The school of a philosopher is a surgery. You are not
to go out of it with pleasure, but with pain: for you come there
not in health; but one of you hath a dislocated shoulder, another
an abscess, a third a fistula, a fourth the headache. And am I,
then, to sit uttering pretty trifling thoughts and little exclama-
tions that, when you have praised me, you may each of you go
away with the same dislocated shoulder, the same aching head,
the same fistula, and the same abscess that you brought ? And
is it for this that young men are to travel ? And do they leave
their parents, their friends, their relations and their estates
that they may praise you while you are uttering little exclama-

i8a The Discourses of Epictetus

tions? Was this the practice of Socrates? Of Zeno? 01
Cleanthes ? " What then ! is there not in speaking a style and
manner of exhortation? " Who denies it? Just as there is
a manner of confutation and of instruction. But who ever,
therefore, added that of ostentation for a fourth ? For in what
doth the exhortatory manner consist? In being able to show
to one and all the contradictions in which they are involved,
and that they care for everything rather than what they mean
to care for; for they mean the things conducive to happiness,
but they seek them where they are not to be found. To effect
this must a thousand seats be placed, and an audience invited,
and you, in a fine robe, or cloak, ascend the rostrum and describe
the death of Achilles? Forbear, for heaven's sake, to bring, as
far as you are able, good words and practices into disgrace.
Nothing, to be sure, gives more force to exhortation than when
the speaker shows that he hath need of the hearers ! But tell
me, who, when he hears you reading or speaking, is solicitous
.about himself? Or turns his attention upon himself? Or
says, when he is gone away, " The philosopher hit me well "?
Instead of this, even though you are in high vogue, is not all
that one man says, " He spoke finely about Xerxes "? " No,"
says another; " but on the battle of Thermopylae." Is this the
audience of a philosopher?

CHAPTER XXIV

THAT WE OUGHT NOT TO BE AFFECTED BY THINGS
NOT IN OUR OWN POWER

i. LET not what is contrary to nature in another be an evil to
you ; for you were not born to be depressed and unhappy along
with others, but to be happy along with them. And if any one
is unhappy, remember that he is so for himself; for God made
all men to enjoy felicity and a settled good condition. He
hath furnished all with means for this purpose, having given
them some things for their own; others, not for their own.
Whatever is subject to restraint, compulsion, or deprivation,
not their own; whatever is not subject to restraint, their own.
And the essence of good and evil he hath placed in things which

A Certain Rotation of Things 183

are our own, as it became him who provides for and protects us
with paternal care.

But I have parted with such a one, and he is in grief.

And why did he esteem what belonged to another his own?
Why did he not consider, while he was pleased with seeing you,
that you are mortal, that you are subject to change your abode?
Therefore he bears the punishment of his own folly. But to
what purpose or for what cause do you too break l your spirits ?
Have not you, neither, studied these things ? But, like trifling,
silly women, considered the things you delighted in ; the places,
the persons, the conversations, as if they were to last for ever;
and now sit crying because you do not see the same people, nor
live in the same place? Indeed, you deserve to be so affected,
and thus to become more wretched than ravens or crows ; which,
without groaning or longing for their former state, can fly
where they will, build their nests in another place, and cross
the seas.

Ay ; but this happens from their want of reason.

Was reason then given us by the gods for the purpose of un-
happiness and misery, to make us live wretched and lamenting ?
0, by all means, let every one be immortal! Let nobody go
from home ! Let us never go from home ourselves, but remain
rooted to a spot like plants ! And, if any of our acquaint-
ance should quit his abode, let us sit and cry; and when he
comes back, let us dance and clap our hands like children.
Shall we never wean ourselves, and remember what we have
heard from the philosophers (unless we have heard them only
as juggling enchanters): that the world is one great city, and
the substance one out of which it is formed; that there must
necessarily be a certain rotation of things; that some must
give way to others; some be dissolved, and others rise in their
stead ; some remain in the same situation, and others be moved;
but that all is full of friendship, first of the gods, and then of
men, by nature endeared to each other; that some must be
separated, others live together, rejoicing in the present, and
not grieving for the absent; and that man, besides a natural
greatness of mind and contempt of things independent on
choice, is likewise formed not to be rooted to the earth, but to
go at different times to different places ; sometimes on urgent
occasions, and sometimes merely for the sake of observation.
Such was the case of Ulysses, who

" Wandering from clime to clime observant strayed,
Their manners noted, and their states surveyed/'

POPE'S Odyssey, i.

184 The Discourses of Epictetus

And yet, before him, of Hercules, to travel over the world,

" Just and unjust recording in his mind,
And, with sure eyes, inspecting all mankind."

POPE'S Odyssey, xvn. 580.

To expel and clear away the one, and, in its stead, to introduce
the other. Yet how many friends do you think he must have
at Thebes? How many at Argos? How many at Athens?
And how many did he acquire in his travels? He married too
when he thought it a proper time, and became a father, and
then quitted his children; not lamenting and longing for them,
nor as if he had left them orphans ; for he knew that no human
creature is an orphan, but that there is a father who always,
and without intermission, takes care of all. For he had not
merely heard it, as matter of talk, that Jupiter was the father of
mankind ; but he esteemed and called him his own father, and
performed all that he did with a view to him. Hence, he was in
every place able to live happy. But it is never possible to make
happiness consistent with a desire of what is not present. For
what is happy must have all it wishes for; 2 must resemble a
person satisfied with food ; there must be no thirst, no hunger.

But Ulysses longed for his wife, and sat crying on a rock.

Why, do you mind Homer and his fables in everything?
Or, if Ulysses really did cry, what was he but a wretched man ?
But what wise and good man is wretched? The universe is
surely but ill governed, unless Jupiter takes care that his sub-
jects may be happy like himself. But these are unlawful and
profane thoughts; and Ulysses, if he did indeed cry and bewail
himself, was not a good man. For who can be a good man who
doth not know what he is? And who knows this and forgets
that all things made are perishable, and that it is not possible
for man and man always to live together? What then? To
desire impossibilities is base and foolish : it is the behaviour of a
stranger 3 [to the world]; of one who fights against God the
only way he can by his principles.

But my mother grieves when she doth not see me.

And why hath not she learnt these doctrines? I do not say
that care ought not to be taken that she may not lament; but
that we are not to wish absolutely what is not in our own power.
Now, the grief of another is not in our power; but my own
grief is. I will, therefore, absolutely suppress my own, for that
is in my power; and I will endeavour to suppress another's
grief as far as I am able: but I will not endeavour it absolutely,

Life is a Warfare 185

otherwise I shall fight against God; I shall resist Jupiter, and
oppose him in the administration of the universe. And not
only my children's children 4 will bear the punishment of this
disobedience and fighting against God, but I myself too; start-
ing, and full of perturbation, both in the day-time and in my
dreams by night; trembling at every message, and having my
enjoyment 8 dependent on the intelligence of others. " Some-
body is come from Rome." " No harm, I hope." Why, what
harm can happen to you where you are not? " From Greece."
" No harm, I hope." Why, at this rate, every place may be the
cause of misfortune to you. Is it not enough for you to be
unfortunate where you are, but it must be beyond sea, too, and
by letters ? Such is the security of your condition 1

But what if my friends there should be dead ?

What, indeed, but that those are dead who were born to die.
Do you at once wish to live to be old, and yet not to see the death
of any one you love ? Do not you know that, in a long course of
time, many and various events must necessarily happen ? That
a fever must get the better of one, a highwayman of another,
a tyrant of a third? For such is the world we live in; such
they who live in it with us. Heats and colds, improper diets,
journeys, voyages, winds, and various accidents destroy some,
banish others; destine one to an embassy, another to a camp.
And now, pray, sit in a flutter about all these things, lamenting,
disappointed, wretched, dependent on another; and that not
one or two, but ten thousand times ten thousand.

2. Is this what you have heard from the philosophers?
This what you have learnt? Do not you know 6 what sort of a
thing a warfare is? One must keep guard, another go out for
a spy, another to battle too. It is neither possible that all
should be in the same place, nor, indeed, better: but you,
neglecting to perform the orders of your general, complain
whenever anything a little hard is commanded, and do not
consider what you make the army become as far as lies in your
power. For, if all should imitate you, nobody will dig a trench,
or throw up a rampart, or watch, or expose himself to danger;
but every one will appear useless to the expedition. Again,
if you were a sailor in a voyage, fix upon one place, and there
remain. If it should be necessary to climb the mast, refuse to
do it; if to run to the head of the ship, refuse to do it. And

what captain will bear you ? Would not he throw you overboard
as a useless piece of goods and mere luggage, and a bad example
to the other sailors? Thus, also, in the present case, every

1 86 The Discourses of Epictetus

one's life is a warfare, 7 and that long and various. You must
observe the duty of a soldier, and perform everything at the nod
of your general; and even, if possible, divine what he would
have done. For there is no comparison between the above-
mentioned general and this, either in power or excellence of
character. You are placed in an extensive command, and not
in a mean post; but you are a senator. 8 Do not you know that
such a one must spend but little time on his affairs at home;
but be much abroad, either commanding or obeying; attend-
ing on the duties either of a magistrate, a soldier, or a judge.
And now, pray, would you be fixed and rooted to the same spot,
like a plant?

Why, it is pleasant.

Who denies it? And so is a ragout pleasant; and a fine
woman is pleasant. Is not this just what they say who make
pleasure their end? Do not you perceive whose language you
have spoken? That of Epicureans and catamites. And while
you follow their practices and hold their principles, do you talk
to us of the doctrines of Zeno and Socrates ? Why do not you
throw away, to as great a distance as possible, those ornaments
which belong to others, and which you have nothing to do with?
What else do the Epicureans desire than to sleep without
hindrance and rise 9 without compulsion; and, when they are
got up, to yawn at their leisure, and wash their face; then
write and read what they please; then prate about some trifle
or other, and be applauded by their friends, whatever they say ;
then go out for a walk; and, after they have taken a turn, bathe ;
and then eat; and then to bed: in what manner they spend
their time there, why should one say? For it is easily guessed.
Come, now, do you also tell me what course of life you desire to
lead, who are a zealot for truth and Diogenes and Socrates.
What would you do at Athens? These very same things?
Why, then, do you call yourself a Stoic? They who falsely
pretend to the Roman citizenship are punished severely; and
must those be dismissed with impunity who falsely claim so
great a thing and so venerable a title as you do? Or is this
impossible, and is there not a divine and powerful and inevitable
law which exacts the greatest punishments from those who are
guilty of the greatest offences? For what says this law? Let
him Avho claims what doth not belong to him be arrogant, be
vain-glorious, be base, be a slave ; let him grieve, let him envy,
let him pity; and, in a word, let him be unhappy, let him
lament.

The Pretender's Punishment 187

3. 10 What then ! would you have me pay my court to such
a one? Would you have me frequent his door?

If reason requires it, for your country, for your relations, for
mankind, why should you not go ? You are not ashamed to go
to the door of a shoemaker when you want shoes, nor of a
gardener when you want lettuce. Why, then, of the rich when
you have some similar want ?

Ay ; but I am not struck with awe of a shoemaker.

Nor of a rich man neither.

I need not flatter a gardener.

Nor a rich man neither.

How then shall I get what I want?

Why, do I bid you go in expectation of getting it? No;
only that you may do what becomes yourself.

Why then, after all, should I go ?

That you may have gone; that you may have discharged
the duties of a citizen, of a brother, of a friend. And, after all,
remember that you are going to a shoemaker, to a gardener, who
hath not the power of anything great or respectable, though
he should sell it ever so dear. You are going to buy lettuces.
They are sold for a penny, not for a talent. So here, too, the
matter is worth going to his door about. Well, I will go. It
is worth talking with him about. 11 Well, I will talk with him.

Ay, but one must kiss his hand, tor,, and cajole him with
praise.

Away with you. That is worth a talent. It is not ex-
pedient for myself, nor my country, nor my fellow - citizens,
nor my friends, to destroy the good citizen and the friend [in
my own character].

But one shall appear not to have set heartily about the
business if one fails.

What, have you forgot again why you went? Do not you
know that a wise and good man doth nothing for appearance,
but for the sake of having acted well?

What advantage then is it to him to have acted well?

What advantage is it to one who writes the name of Dion
as he ought? The having writ it.

Is there no reward, then?

Why, do you seek any greater reward for a good man than
the doing what is fair and just? And yet at Olympia you
desire nothing else, but think it enough to be crowned victor.
Doth it appear to you so small and worthless a thing to be fair,
good, and happy ? Besides, being introduced by God into this

1 88 The Discourses of Epictetus

great city [the world], and bound to discharge at this time the
duties of a man, do you still want nurses and a mamma; and
are you 12 moved and effeminated by the tears of poor foolish
women? Are you thus determined never to cease being an
infant? Do not you know, that he who acts like a child, the
older he is, so much is he the more ridiculous?

4. 13 Did you never visit any one at Athens, at his own
house ?

Yes; whomsoever I pleased.

Why, now you are here, be willing to visit this person, and
you will still see whom you please; only let it be without mean-
ness, without desire or aversion, and your affairs will go well;
but their going well or not doth not consist in going to the house
and standing at the door, or not, but lies within, in your own
principles; when you have acquired a contempt of things
independent on choice, and esteem none of them your own, but
that what belongs to you is only to judge, to think, to exert
your pursuits, your desires and aversions, right. What further
room is there after this for flattery, for meanness? Why do
you still long for the quiet you enjoyed there, 14 for places
familiar to you ? Stay a little and these will become familiar to
you in their turn ; and then, if you are so mean-spirited, weep
and lament again at leaving these.

How, then, am I to preserve an affectionate temper?

As becomes a noble-spirited and happy person. For reason
will never tell you to be dejected and broken-hearted, or to
depend on another, or to reproach either god or man. Be
affectionate in such a manner as to observe all this. But if
from affection, as you call it, you are to be a slave and a wretch,
it is not worth your while to be affectionate. And what
restrains you from loving any one as a mortal, as a person who
may be obliged to quit you ? Pray, did not Socrates love his
own children? But it was as became one who was free, and
mindful that his first duty was to gain the love of the gods.
Hence he violated no part of the character of a good man, either
in his defence, or in fixing a penalty on himself. 15 Nor yet
before, when he was a senator or a soldier. But we make use of
every pretence to be mean-spirited; some on the account of a
child, some of a mother, and some of a brother. But it is not
fit to be unhappy on the account of any one, but happy on the
account of all; and chiefly of God, who hath constituted us for
this purpose. What! did Diogenes love nobody, who was so
gentle and benevolent as cheerfully to undergo so many pains

What it is to be Free 189

and miseries of body for the common good of mankind ? Yes,
he did love them; but how? As became a minister of
Jove; at once taking care of men and obedient to God.
Hence the whole earth, not any particular place, was his
country. And, when he was taken captive, he did not long
for Athens and his friends and acquaintance there, but made
himself acquainted with the pirates, and endeavoured to reform
them; and, when he was at last sold, he lived at Corinth just
as before at Athens: and, if he had gone to the Perrhcebeans, 1 *
he would have been exactly the same. Thus is freedom ac-
quired. Hence he used to say, " Ever since Antisthenes
made me free, 17 I have ceased to be a slave. " How did
he make him free ? Hear what he says. " He taught me
what was my own, and what not. An estate is not my
own. Kindred, domestics, friends, reputation, familiar places,
manner of life, all belong to another." " What is your own,
then? " " The use of the appearances of things. He showed
me that I have this, not subject to restraint or compulsion;
no one can hinder or force me to use them any otherwise than
I please. Who, then, after this, hath any power over me?
Philip, or Alexander, or Perdiccas, or the Persian king?
Whence should they have it ? For he that is to be subdued by
man must, long before, be subdued by things. He, therefore,
of whom neither pleasure nor pain, nor fame nor riches, can get
the better, and who is able, whenever he thinks fit, to throw
away his whole body with contempt, and depart, whose slave
can he ever be? To whom is he subject? " But if Diogenes
had taken pleasure in living at Athens, and had been subdued
by that manner of life, his affairs would have been at every one's
disposal ; and whoever was stronger would have had the power
of grieving him. How would he have flattered the pirates, think
you, to make them sell him to some Athenian, that he might
see again the fine Piraeus, the long walls, and the citadel?
How would you see them, you wretch? As a dispirited slave.
And what good would that do you ? " No ; but free." Show in
what manner free. See, somebody lays hold on you ; whoever
takes you away from your usual manner of b'fe and says, " You
are my slave ; for it is in my power to restrain you from living
as you like. It is in my power to afflict 18 and humble you.
Whenever I please, you may be cheerful again, and set out
elated for Athens. 11 What do you say to him who thus enslaves
you? What method will you find of getting free? Or dare
yon uot so much as look up at him; but, without making many

190 The Discourses of Epictetus

words, supplicate to be dismissed ? You ought to go to prison,
man, with alacrity, with speed, and to precede your conductors.
Instead of this, do you regret living at Rome, and long for
Greece? And, when you must die, will you then too come
crying to us that you shall no more see Athens, nor walk in the
Lycaeum ? Have you travelled for this ? Is it for this that you
have been seeking for somebody to do you good ? What good ?
That you may the more easily solve syllogisms, and manage
hypothetical arguments? And is it for this reason you left
your brother, your country, your friends, your family, that
you might carry back such improvements as these? So that
you did not travel for constancy, nor for tranquillity ; nor that,
secured from harm, you might complain of no one, accuse no
one: that no one might injure you; and that thus you might
preserve your relative duties without impediment. You have
made a fine traffic of it, to carry home hypothetical arguments
and convertible propositions 1 If you please, too, sit in the
market and cry them for sale as mountebanks do their medicines.
Why will you not rather deny that you know even what you have
learned, for fear of bringing a scandal upon theorems as use-
less? What harm hath philosophy done you? In what hath
Chrysippus injured you, that you should give a proof, by your
actions, that philosophy is of no value? Had you not evils
enough at home ? How many causes for grief and lamentation
had you there, even if you had not travelled? But you have
added more; and, if you ever get any new acquaintance and
friends, you will find fresh causes for groaning; and, in like
manner, if you attach yourself to any other country. To what
purpose therefore do you live? To heap sorrow upon sorrow
to make you wretched ? And then you tell me this is affection.
What affection, man? If it be good, it is not the cause of any
ill; if ill, I will have nothing to do with it. I was born for my
own good, not ill.

5. What, then, is the proper exercise in this case ?

First, the highest, and principal, and obvious, as it were at
your door, is, that when you attach yourself to anything, it
may not be as to what cannot be taken away,

But as to what?

As to something of the same kind with an earthen pot, or a
glass cup; that, when it happens to be broken, you may re-
member not to be troubled. 19 So here, too: when you kiss
your child, or your brother, or your friend, never entirely give
way to the appearance, nor suffer the pleasure to diffuse itself

Evil Omens 191

as far as it will; but curb it, restrain it, like those who stand
behind triumphant victors, and remind them that they are
men. Do you likewise remind yourself that you love what is
mortal, that you love what is not your own. It is allowed you
for the present, not irrevocably, nor for ever, but as a fig or a
bunch of grapes in the appointed season. If you long for these
in winter, you are a fool. So, if you long for your son or your
friend when he is not allowed you, know, you wish for figs in
winter. For as winter is to a fig, so is every accident in the
universe to those things which are taken away by it. In the
next place, represent to yourself appearances contrary to 20
whatever objects give you pleasure. What harm is there
while you are kissing your child to say softly, " To-morrow you
will die "; and so to your friend, " To-morrow either you or I
shall go away, and we shall see each other no more " ?

But these sayings are ominous.

And so are some incantations, but, because they are useful,
I do not mind it; only let them be useful. But do you call
anything ominous, except what is the signification of some ill?
Cowardice is ominous; mean-spiritedness is ominous; lamenta-
tion, grief, want of shame. These are words of bad omen; and
yet we ought not to be scrupulous of using them, as a guard
against the things they mean. But do you tell me that a word
is ominous which is significant of anything natural? Say, too,
that it is ominous for ears of corn to be reaped, for this signifies
the destruction of the corn, but not of the world. Say, too,
that the fall of the leaf is ominous; and that a candied mass
should be produced from figs, and raisins from grapes. For
all these are changes from a former into another state; not a
destruction, but a certain appointed economy and admini-
stration. Such is absence, a small change; such is death, a
greater change: not from what now is nothing, but to what
now is not.

21 What, then, shall I be no more?

You will be; but [you will be] something else, of which, at
present, the world hath no need: for even you were not pro-
duced when you pleased, but when the world had need [of you].
Hence a wise and good man, mindful who he is and whence he
came, and by whom he was produced, is attentive only how he
may fill his post regularly and dutifully to God. " Is it thy
pleasure I should any longer continue in being ? I will continue
free, spirited, agreeably to thy pleasure; for thou hast made
me incapable of restraint in what is my own. But hast thou no

192 The Discourses of Epictetus

further use for me ? Fare thou well ! I have stayed thus long
for thy sake alone, and no other, and now I depart in obedience
to thee." "How do you depart?" " Again, agreeably to
thy pleasure; as free, as thy servant, as one sensible of thy
commands and thy prohibitions. But while I am employed in
thy service, what wouldst thou have me be? A prince or a
private man, a senator or a plebeian, a soldier or a general,
a preceptor or the master of a family ? Whatever post or rank
thou shalt assign me, like Socrates, I will die a thousand times
rather than desert it. Where wouldst thou have me be? At
Rome or at Athens, at Thebes or at Gyaros? Only remember
me there. If thou shalt send me where men cannot live con-
formably to nature, I do not depart from thence in disobedi-
ence 22 to thy will, but as receiving my signal of retreat from
thee. I do not desert thee; heaven forbid! but I perceive
thou hast no use for me. If a life conformable to nature be
granted, I will seek no other place but that in which I am, nor
any other company but those with whom I am.

6. Let these things be ready at hand night and day. These
things write; these things read; of these things talk both to
yourself and others. Ask them, " Have you any assistance to
give me for this purpose? " And again, go and ask another
and another. Then, if any of those things should happen that
are said to be against our will, immediately this will be a relief
to you : in the first place, that it was not unexpected. For it is
a great matter upon all occasions to be able to say, 23 " I knew
that I begot one born to die." Thus do you say too, " I knew
that I was liable to die, to remove, to be exiled, to be imprisoned."
If afterwards you turn to yourself and seek from what quarter
the event proceeds, you will presently recollect: "It is from
things independent on choice, not from what is my own. What,
then, is it to me? " Then, further (which is the chief): Who
sent it? The commander, the general, the city, the law of the
city? Give it me, then, for I must always obey the law in all
things. Further yet: when any appearance molests you (for
that is not in your power), strive against it, and by reason con-
quer it. Do not suffer it to gain strength, nor to lead you on
to consequences, and represent what and how it pleases. If
you are at Gyaros, do not represent to yourself the manner of
living at Rome; how many pleasures you used to find there,
and how many would attend your return; but be intent on
this point, how he who lives at Gyaros may live with spirit and
comfort at Gyaros. And if you are at Rome, do not represent

Seek Good from Within 193

to yourself the manner of living at Athens, but consider only
how you ought to live where you are. Lastly, to all other
pleasures oppose that of being conscious that you are obeying
God, and performing, not in word, but in deed, the duty of a
wise and good man. How great a thing is it to be able to say to
yourself, " What others are now solemnly arguing in the schools,
and seem to carry beyond probability, this I am actually per-
forming. They are sitting and expatiating upon my virtues,
and disputing about me and celebrating me. Jupiter hath been
pleased to let me receive a demonstration of this from myself,
and, indeed, that he may know whether he hath a soldier, a
citizen, such as he should be, and to produce me as a witness to
other men, concerning things independent on choice. See that
your fears were vain, your appetites vain. Seek not good
from without; seek it in yourselves, or you will never f nd it.
For this reason he now brings me hither, now sends me thither;
shows me to mankind, poor, without authority, sick; sends
me to Gyaros, leads me to prison: not that he hates me;
heaven forbid! For who hates the best of his servants? Nor
that he neglects me, for he doth not neglect any one of the
smallest 24 tilings ; but to exercise me, and make use of me as a
witness to others. Appointed to such a service, do I still care
where I am, or with whom, or what is said of me, instead of
being wholly attentive to God, and to his orders and com-
mands? "

7. Having these things always at hand, and practising them
by yourself, and making them ready for use, you will never
want any one to comfort and strengthen you. For shame doth
not consist in not having anything to eat, but in not having
reason enough to exempt you from fear and sorrow. But, if
you once acquire that exemption, will a tyrant, or his guards
or courtiers, be anything to you? Will any destination of
offices, or they who offer sacrifices in the capitol on being
admitted into the Emperor's train, give you uneasiness, who
have received so great a command from Jupiter? Only, do not
make a parade of it, nor grow insolent upon it. But show it
by your actions; and, though no one should perceive it, be
content that you are well and happy.

194 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XXV

CONCERNING THOSE WHO DESIST FROM THEIR PURPOSE

i. CONSIDER which of the things which you at first proposed
to yourself you have retained, which not, and how ; which give
you pleasure, which pain in the reflection; and, if possible,
recover yourself where you have failed. For the champions,
in this greatest of combats, must not grow weary, but are even
contentedly to bear whipping. For this is no combat of wrest-
ling or boxing; where both he who succeeds, and he who doth
not succeed, may possibly be of very great worth, or of little
indeed, may be very fortunate or very miserable; but the
combat is for good fortune and happiness itself. What is the
case, then? Here, even if we have renounced the contest, no
one restrains us from renewing it, nor need we wait for another
four years for the return of another Olympiad ; but recollecting,
and recovering yourself, and returning with the same zeal, you
may renew it immediately; and even if you should again yield,
you may again begin, and, if you once get the victory, you
become like one who hath never yielded. Only, do not begin
from a habit of this to do it with pleasure, and then, like quails
that have fled the pit, 1 go about as if you were a brave champion,
though you have been conquered all the games round. 2 " The
appearance of a pretty girl conquers me." What then?
" Have not I been conquered before ? I have a mind to rail at
somebody. Well, have not I railed before? " You talk to us
just as if you had come off unhurt. Like one that should say to
his physician, who had forbidden him to bathe, " Why, did not
I bathe before? " Suppose the physician should answer him,
" Well, and what was the consequence of your bathing? Were
not you feverish? Had not you the headache? " So, when
you before railed at somebody, did not you act like an ill-
natured person, like an impertinent one? Have not you fed
this habit of yours by actions familiar to it? When you were
conquered by a pretty girl, did you come off with impunity?
Why, then, do you talk of what you have done before? You
ought to remember it, I think, as slaves do whipping, so as to
refrain from the same faults. " But the case is unlike, for there
it is pain that causes the remembrance; but what is the pain,

Need is Not Shameful 195

what the punishment, of my committing faults ? For when was
I ever habituated [by any suffering] to avoid acting ill? "
Therefore the pains of experience, whether we will or not, have
their use.

CHAPTER XXVI

CONCERNING THOSE WHO ARE IN DREAD OF WANT

i. *ARE not you ashamed to be more fearful and mean-
spirited than fugitive slaves? To what estates, to what
servants do they trust, when they run away and leave their
masters? Do not they, after carrying off a little with them for
the first days, travel over land and sea, contriving first one,
then another method of getting food ? And what fugitive ever
died with hunger? But you tremble, and lie awake by night,
for fear you should want necessaries. Wretch! are you so
blind ? Do not you see the way where the want of necessaries
leads?

Why, where doth it lead ?

Where a fever, where even a stone falling on you, leads to
death. Have not you yourself, then, often said this to your
companions ? Have not you read, have not you written, many
things of this kind? And how often have you arrogantly
boasted that you are easy with regard to death ?

Ay, but my family too will starve with hunger.

What then? Doth their hunger lead any other way than
yours ? Is there not the same descent ? The same state below ?
Will you not, then, in every want and necessity, look with con-
fidence there, where even the most rich and powerful, and
kings and tyrants themselves, must descend? You, indeed,
hungry perhaps ; and they, burst with indigestion and drunken-
ness? What beggar have you almost ever seen who did not
live to old age, nay, to extreme old age ? Chilled with cold day
and night, lying on the ground, and eating only what is barely
necessary, they come nearly to an impossibility of dying.
Cannot you write? Cannot you keep a school? Cannot you
be a watchman at somebody's door?

But it is shameful to come to this necessity.

First, therefore, learn what things are shameful, and then tell
us you are a philosopher; but at present, do not bear that even

196 The Discourses of Epictetus

any one else should call you so. Is that shameful to you which
is not your own act? Of which you are not the cause ? Which
hath happened to you by accident, like a fever, or the head-
ache? If your parents were poor, or left others their heirs,
or, though they are living, do not assist you, are these things
shameful for you? Is this what you have learned from the
philosophers? Have you never heard, that what is shameful
is blamable; and what is blamable deserves to be blamed?
Whom do you blame for an action not his own, which he hath
not done himself? Did you then make your father such a one
as he is? Or is it in your power to mend him? Is that per-
mitted you? What then, must you desire what is not per-
mitted; and, when you fail of it, be ashamed? Are you thus
habituated, even when you are studying philosophy, to depend
upon others, and to hope nothing from yourself? Sigh, then,
and groan, and eat in fear that you shall have no victuals to-
morrow. Tremble, lest your servants should rob you, or run
away from you, or die. Thus live on without ceasing, whoever
you are, who have applied to philosophy in name only, and, as
much as in you lies, have disgraced its theorems, by showing
that they are unprofitable and useless to those who take up the
profession of them. You have never made constancy, tran-
quillity, and apathy the object of your desires; have attended
on no one upon this account, but on many for the sake of
syllogisms, nor have ever by yourself examined any one of
these appearances. "Can I bear this, or can I not bear it?
What remains for me to do ? " But, as if all your affairs went
safe and well, you have dwelt upon the third class, 2 that of
security from failure, that you may never fail of what?
Fear, mean-spiritedness, admiration of riches, an unaccom-
plished desire, and unsuccessful aversion. These are the things
which you have been labouring to secure. Ought you not first
to have acquired something by the use of reason, and then to
have provided security for that? Whom did you ever see
building a round of battlements without placing them upon a
wall? And what porter is ever set where there is no door?
But you study. Can you show me what you study?

Not to be shaken by sophistry.

Shaken from what? Show me first what you have in your
custody; what you measure, or what you weigh; and then
accordingly show me the balance, or the bushel. What signifies
it to go on ever so long measuring dust? Ought you not to
show what makes men happy, what makes their affairs proceed

Plain Living and High Thinking 197

as they wish? How we may blame no one, accuse no one;
how acquiesce in the administration of the universe ? Show me
these things. " See, I do show them," say you? " I will solve
syllogisms to you." This is the measure, wretch, and not the
thing measured. Hence you now pay the penalty due for
neglecting philosophy. You tremble, you lie awake, you
advise with everybody; and if what you are advised to doth
not please everybody, you think that you have been ill advised.
Then you dread hunger, as you fancy ; but it is not hunger that
you dread, but you are afraid that you shall not have a cook,
that you shall not have another person for a butler, another to
pull off your shoes, a fourth to dress you, others to rub you,
others to follow you; that when you have undressed yourself
in the bathing room, and stretched yourself out like those who
are crucified, you may be rubbed here and there; and the person
who presides over these operations may stand by, and say,
" Come this way; give your side; take hold on his head; turn
your shoulder " ; and that, when you are returned home from
the bath, you may bawl out, " Doth nobody bring anything to
eat?" And then, " Take away, wipe the table." This is
your dread, that you shall not be able to lead the life of a sick
man. But learn the life of those in health; how slaves live,
how labourers, how those who are genuine philosophers, how
Socrates lived, even with a wife and children; how Diogenes,
how Cleanthes, 3 at once studying and drawing water. If these
are the things you would have, you will have them everywhere,
and with a fearless confidence.

In what ?

In the only thing that can be confided in; what is sure,
incapable of being restrained, or taken away your own choice.

2. But why have you contrived to make yourself so useless
and good for nothing, that nobody will receive you into their
house, nobody take care of you; but though, if any sound
useful vessel was thrown out of doors, whoever finds it will take
it up, and esteem it as a gain, yet nobody will take up you, but
everybody esteem you a loss? What, cannot you so much as
perform the office of a dog, or a cock ? Why, then, do you wish
to live any longer, if you are so worthless? Doth any good
man fear that food should fail him ? It doth not fail the blind,
it doth not fail the lame. Shall it fail a good man? A pay-
master is not wanting to a soldier, or to a labourer, or to a shoe-
maker, and shall one be wanting to a good man? Is God so
negligent of his own institutions, of his servants, of his witnesses,

H404

198 The Discourses of Epictetus

whom alone he makes use of as examples to the uninstructed,
both that he is, and that he administers the universe rightly,
and doth not neglect human affairs, and that no evil happens
to a good man, either living or dead? What, then, is the case
when he doth not bestow food ? What else than that, like a good
general, he hath made me a signal of retreat? I obey, I follow;
speaking well of my leader, praising his works. For I came
when it seemed good to him, and again, when it seems good to
him, I depart; and in life it was my business to praise God, both
by myself, to each particular person, and to the world. Doth
he not grant me many things ? Doth he not grant me affluence ?
It is not his pleasure that I should live luxuriously, for he did
not grant that even to Hercules, his own son, but another 4
reigned over Argos and My cense, while he lived subject to com-
mand, laboured, and was exercised. And Eurystheus was just
what he was; neither king of Argos nor My cense, not being
indeed king of himself. But Hercules was ruler and governor
of the whole earth and seas; the expeller of lawlessness and
injustice; the introducer of justice and sanctity. And this he
effected naked and alone. Again, when Ulysses was ship-
wrecked and cast away, did his helpless condition at all deject
him? Did it break his spirit? No. But how did he go to
Nausicaa and her attendants, to ask those necessaries which it
seems most shameful to beg from another?

" As the fierce lion, on the mountain bred.
Confiding in his strength ..."

Confiding in what ? Not in glory, nor in riches, nor in dominion,
but in his own strength; that is, in his principles concerning
what things are in our own power, what not. For these alone
are what render us free, render us incapable of restraint; raise
the head of the dejected, and make them look with unaverted
eyes full in the face of the rich, and of the tyrants ; and this was
the gift of the philosopher. 5 But you will not set out with con-
fidence; but trembling about such trifles as clothes and plate,
Wretch 1 have you thus wasted your time till now?

But what if I should be sick ?

You will be sick as you ought.

Who will take care of me ?

God ; your friends.

I shall lie in a hard bed.

But like a man.

I shall not have a convenient room.

The Fear of Death 199

You will be sick in an inconvenient one, then.

Who will provide victual for me ?

They who provide for others too; you will be sick like
Manes. 6

But, besides, what will be the conclusion of my sickness?
Any other than death?

Why, do you not know, then, that the origin of all human
evils and of the mean-spiritedness and cowardice is not death,
but rather the fear of death? Fortify yourself, therefore,
against this. Hither let all your discourses, readings, exercises,
tend. And then you will know that thus alone are men made
free.

END OF THE THIRD BOOK

BOOK IV
CHAPTER I

OF FREEDOM

i. HE is free who lives as he likes; who is not subject either
to compulsion, to restraint, or to violence; whose pursuits are
unhindered, his desires successful, his aversions unincurred.
Who, then, would wish to lead a wrong course of life ? " No
one." Who would live deceived, prone to mistake, unjust,
dissolute, discontented, dejected? "No one." No wicked
man, then, lives as he likes ; therefore neither is he free. And
who would live in sorrow, fear, envy, pity; with disappointed
desires, and incurred aversions? " No one." Do we then find
any of the wicked exempt from sorrow, fear, disappointed
desires, incurred aversions? "Not one." Consequently,
then, not free. 1

2. If a person who hath been twice consul should hear this,
provided you add, " But you are a wise man; this is nothing to
you," he will forgive you. But if you tell him the truth that
in point of slavery he doth not differ from those who have been
thrice sold, what must you expect but to be beaten? " For
how," says he, " am I a slave? My father was free, my mother
free. 2 Besides, I am a senator, too, and the friend of Caesar,
and have been twice consul, and have myself many slaves."
In the first place, most worthy sir, perhaps your father too was
a slave of the same kind, and your mother, and your grand-
father, and all your ancestors successively. But even if they
were ever so free, what is that to you ? For what if they were
of a generous, you of a mean spirit; they brave, and you a
coward; they sober, and you dissolute?

3. And, " What," says he, " is this towards being a slave? " s
Do you think it nothing towards being a slave, to act against
your will? Compelled and lamenting? " Be it so. But who
can compel me but the master of all, Caesar? " By your own
confession, then, you have one master; and let not his being,

200

The Conqueror Conquered 201

as you say, master of all give you any comfort, but know that
you are a slave in a great family. Thus the Nicopolitans, too,
frequently cry out, " By the life of Ccesar we are free ! "

4. For the present, however, if you please, we will let Caesar
alone. But tell me this. Have you never been in love with
any one, either of a servile or liberal condition? " Why, what
is that to the being either a slave or free? " Was you never
commanded anything by your mistress that you did not choose ?
Have you never flattered your slave? Have you never kissed
her feet? And yet, if you were commanded to kiss Caesar's
feet, you would think it an outrage, and an excess of tyranny.
Have you never gone out by night where you did not choose?
Have you never spent more than you chose? Have not you
sometimes uttered your words with sighs and groans? Borne
to be reviled, and shut out of doors? But, if you are ashamed
to confess your own follies, see what Thrasonides 4 says and
doth, who, after having fought more battles perhaps than you,
went out by night when Geta 5 would not dare to go; nay, had
he been compelled to it by him, would have gone roaring and
lamenting his bitter servitude. And what doth [this master of
his] say afterwards? " A sorry girl hath enslaved me, whom
no enemy ever enslaved." {Wretch! to be the slave of a girl,
and a sorry girl too ! Why, then, do you still call yourself free?
Why do you boast your military expeditions?) Then he calls
for a sword, and is angry with the person who out of kindness
denies it; and sends presents to her who hates him; and begs,
and weeps, and then again is elated on every little success.
But how is he elated even then ? Is it so as neither passionately
to desire or fear ?

5. Consider in animals what is our idea of freedom. Some
keep tame lions, and feed and even carry them about with them ;
and who will say that any such lion is free? Nay, doth he not
live the more slavishly the more he lives at ease? And who,
that had sense and reason, would wish to be one of those lions ?
Again, how much do birds, which are taken and kept in a cage,
suffer by trying to fly away ? Nay, some of them starve with
hunger rather than undergo such a life ; then, as many of them
as are saved, it is scarcely and with difficulty and in a pining
condition, and the moment they find any hole, out they hop.
Such a desire have they of natural freedom, and to be at their
own disposal and unrestrained. " And what harm 6 doth this
confinement do you? " " What say you? I was born to fly
where I please, to live in the open air, to sing when I please.

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You deprive me of all this, and say, What harm doth it do
you?"

6. Hence we will allow those only to be free who do not
endure captivity; but, as soon as they are taken, die, and
escape. Thus Diogenes somewhere says, that the only way to
freedom is to die with ease. And he writes to the Persian
king, " You can no more enslave the Athenians than you can
fish."" How? What, shall not I take them? " " If you do
take them," says he, " they will leave you, and be gone like
fish. For take a fish, and it dies. And, if the Athenians too
die as soon as you have taken them, of what use are your war-
like preparations? " This is the voice of a free man, who had
examined the matter in earnest, and, as it might be expected,
found it out. But, if you seek it where it is not, what wonder
if you never find it?

7. A slave wishes to be immediately set free. Think you
it is because he is desirous to pay his fine to the officer? 7 No;
but because he fancies that, for want of acquiring his freedom,
he hath hitherto lived under restraint and unprosperously.
" If I am once set free," says he, " it is all prosperity; I care
for no one, I speak to all as their equal, and on a level with them.
I go where I will, I come when 8 and how I will." He is at last
made free; and presently, having nowhere to eat, he seeks
whom he may flatter, with whom he may sup. He then either
submits to the basest and most infamous prostitution, and, if
he can obtain admission to some great man's table, falls into a
slavery much worse than the former; or, if the creature, void
of sense and right taste, happens to acquire an affluent fortune,
he doats upon some girl, laments, and is unhappy, and wishes
for slavery again. " For what harm did it do me? Another
clothed me, another shod me, another fed me, another took
care of me when I was sick. It was but in a few things, by way
of return, I used to serve him. But now, miserable wretch!
what do I suffer in being a slave to many instead of one I Yet,
if I can obtain the equestrian rings, 9 I shall live with the utmost
prosperity and happiness." In order to obtain them he first
suffers what he deserves, and, as soon as he hath obtained them,
it is all the same again. " But, then," says he, " if I do but
get a military command, I shall be delivered from all my
troubles." He gets a military command. He suffers as much
as the vilest rogue of a slave ; and, nevertheless, he asks for a
second command, and a third; and, when he hath put the
finishing hand and is made a senator, then he is a slave indeed.

Is the Great Man Happy ? 203

When he comes into the assembly, it is then that he undergoes
his finest and most splendid slavery.

8. . . , 10 Not to be a fool, but to learn what Socrates
taught, the nature of things; and not to adapt pre-conceptions
rashly to particular subjects. For the cause of all human evils
is, the not being able to adapt general pre-conceptions to parti-
cular cases. But different people have different opinions. One
thinks the cause of his evils to be that he is sick. By no means;
but that he doth not adapt his pre-conceptions right. Another,
that he is poor; another, that he hath a harsh father and
mother; another, that he is not in the good graces of Caesar.
This is nothing else but not understanding how to adapt our
pre-conceptions. For, who hath not a pre-conception of evil,
that it is hurtful ? That it is to be avoided ? That it is by all
means to be prudently guarded against? One pre-conception
doth not contradict another, except when it comes to be adapted.
What, then, is this evil thus hurtful, and to be avoided? " Not
to be the friend of Csesar," saith one. He is gone, he fails in the
adapting, he is embarrassed, he seeks what is nothing to the
purpose. For, if he gets to be Caesar's friend, he is neverthe-
less distant from what he sought. For what is it that every
man seeks? To be secure, to be happy, to do what he pleases
without restraint and without compulsion. When he becomes
the friend of Caesar, then, doth he cease to be restrained? To
be compelled ? Is he secure ? Is he happy ? Whom shall we
ask? Whom can we better credit than this very man, who hath
been his friend? Come forth and tell us whether you sleep
more quietly now, or before you were the friend of Caesar?
You presently hear him cry, " Leave off, for heaven's sake, and
do not insult me. You know not the miseries I suffer; there
is no sleep for me; but one comes, and saith that Caesar is
already awake; another, that he is just going out. Then
follow perturbations, then cares." Well, and when did you
use to sup more pleasantly, formerly, or now? Hear what he
says about this too. When he is not invited, he is distracted;
and if he is, he sups like a slave with his master, solicitous all
the while not to say or do anything foolish. And what think
you ? Is he afraid of being whipped like a slave ? How can he
hope to escape so well? No; but as becomes so great a man,
Caesar's friend, of losing his head. And when did you bathe
more quietly; when did you perform your exercises more at
your leisure ; in short, which life would you rather wish to live,
your present, or the former? I could swear, there is no one so

204 The Discourses of Epictetus

stupid and insensible u as not to deplore his miseries, in propor-
tion as he is more the friend of Caesar.

9. Since, then, neither they who are called kings, 12 nor the
friends of kings, live as they like, who, after all, are free ? Seek,
and you will find; for you are furnished by nature with means
for discovering the truth. But, if you are not able by these
alone to find the consequence, hear them who have sought it.
What do they say ? Do you think freedom a good ? " The
greatest." Can any one then who attains the greatest good
be unhappy or unsuccessful in his affairs? " No." As many,
therefore, as you see unhappy, lamenting, unprosperous, con-
fidently pronounce them not free. " I do." Henceforth then
we have done with buying and selling, and suchlike stated con-
ditions of becoming slaves. For, if you have made these con-
cessions properly, whether a great or a little king, a consular,
or one twice a consul, be unhappy, he is not free. " Agreed."

10. Further, then, answer me this: Do you think freedom
to be something great and noble and valuable? " How should
I not? " Is it possible, then, that he who acquires anything so
great and valuable and noble should be of an abject spirit?
"It is not." Whenever, then, you see any one subject to
another, and flattering him, contrary to his own opinion, con-
fidently say that he too is not free; and not only if he doth it
for a supper, but even if it be for a government, nay, a consul-
ship; but call those indeed little slaves who act thus for the sake
of little things, and the others, as they deserve, great slaves.
" Be this, too, agreed." Well, do you think freedom to be
something independent and self-determined? "How can it
be otherwise? " Him, then, whom it is in the power of another
to restrain or to compel, affirm confidently to be not free. And
do not mind his grandfathers, or great-grandfathers, or inquire
whether he hath been bought or sold ; but if you hear him say
from his heart, and with emotion, My master, though twelve
lictors should march before him, call him a slave. And if you
should hear him say, Wretch that I am, what do I suffer 1 call
him a slave. In short, if you see him wailing, complaining,
unprosperous, call him a slave in purple. " Suppose, then, he
doth nothing of all this? " Do not yet say he is free, but learn
whether his principles are liable to compulsion, to restraint, or
disappointment, and, if you find this to be the case, call him a
slave keeping holiday during the Saturnalia. 13 Say that his
master is abroad: he will come presently, and you will know
what he suffers. " Who will come ? " Whoever hath the power

The Science of Living 205

either of bestowing or taking away any of the things he wishes
for. "Have we so many masters, then?" We have. For,
prior to all such, we have the things themselves for our masters;
now they are many, and it is through these that it becomes
necessary that such as have the disposal of them should be our
masters too. For no one fears Caesar himself, but death, banish-
ment, loss of goods, prison, disgrace. Nor doth any one love
Caesar, unless he be a person of great worth; but we love riches,
the tribunate, the praetorship, the consulship. When we love
and hate and fear these things, they who have the disposal of
them must necessarily be our masters. Hence we even worship
them as gods. For we consider that whoever hath the disposal
of the greatest advantages is a deity; and then we subjoin
falsely, But such a one hath the power of the greatest advantages ;
therefore he is a deity. For, if we subjoin falsely, the inference
arising from thence must be false likewise.

ii. " What is it, then, that makes a man free and inde-
pendent? For neither riches, nor consulship, nor command of
provinces, or kingdoms, make him so ; but something else must
be found." What is it that preserves any one from being
hindered and restrained in writing? " The science of writing."
In music ? " The science of music." Therefore, in life, too, the
science of living. As you have heard it in general, then, con-
sider it likewise in particulars. Is it possible for him to be
unrestrained who desires any of those things that are in the
power of others? " No." Can he avoid being hindered?
" No." Therefore neither can he be free. Consider, then,
whether we have nothing, or all, in our own power alone ; or
whether some things are in our own power, and some in that of
others. " What do you mean? " When you would have your
body perfect, is it in your own power, or is it not? " It is not."
When you would be healthy? " Nor this." When you would
be handsome? "Nor this." Live, or die? "Nor this."
Body, then, is not our own, but subject to everything stronger
than itself. " Agreed." Well, is it in your own power to have
an estate when you please, and as long as you please, and such
a one as you please? " No." Slaves ? " No." Clothes?
"No." A house?- "No." Horses ? " Indeed none of
these." Well, if you would ever so fain have your children
live, or your wife, or your brother, or your friends, is it in your
own power? " No, nor this." Will you say, then, that there
is nothing independent which is in your own power alone, and
unalienable? See, then, if you have anything of this sort. " I

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do not know." But, consider it thus : Can any one make you
assent to a falsehood ? " No one." In the topic of assent, then,
you are unrestrained and unhindered. " Agreed." Well, and
can any one compel you to exert your pursuits towards what
you do not like? " He can. For when he threatens me with
death, or fetters, he compels me to exert them." If, then, you
were to despise dying, or being fettered, would you any longer
regard him? " No." Is despising death, then, an action in
our power, or is it not? " It is." Is it, therefore, in your
power also to exert your pursuits towards anything, or is it not ?
" Agreed that it is. But in whose power is my avoiding
anything? " This, too, is in your own. " What then, if, when
I am exerting myself to walk, any one should restrain me? "
What part of you can he restrain? Can he restrain your
assent? " No, but my body." Ay, as he may a stone. " Be
it so. But still I walk no more." And who told you that
walking was an action of your own that cannot be restrained?
For I only said that your exerting yourself towards it could not
be restrained. But where there is need of body and its assist-
ance, you have already heard that nothing is in your power.
" Be this, too, agreed." And can any one compel you to desire
against your will? "No one." Or to propose or intend, or,
in short, not to make use of the appearances which present
themselves to you? " Nor this. But when I desire anything,
he will restrain me from obtaining what I desire." If you
desire anything that is your own, and that cannot be restrained,
how can he restrain you? " By no means." And pray who
tells you that he who desires what depends on another cannot
be restrained? "May not I desire health, then?" By no
means, nor anything else that depends on another; for what is
not in your own power, either to procure or to preserve when
you will, that belongs to another. Keep off not only your
hands from it, but, far prior to these, your desires. Otherwise
you have given yourself up a slave, you have put your neck
under the yoke, if you admire any of the things not your own,
but subject and mortal, to whichsoever of them you are attached.
" Is not my hand my own? " It is a part of you, but it is
by nature clay, liable to restraint, to compulsion, a slave to
everything stronger than itself. And why do I say your hand ?
You ought to possess your whole body as a paltry ass with a
pack-saddle on, as long as may be, as long as it is allowed you.
But if there should come a press 14 and a soldier should lay hold
on it, let it go. Do not resist or murmur, otherwise you will be

Cast Out the Tyrants 207

first beat, and lose the ass after all. And, since you are to con-
sider the body itself in this manner, think what remains to do
concerning those things which are provided for the sake of the
body. If that be an ass, the rest are bridles, pack-saddles,
shoes, oats, hay, for the ass. Let these go too. Quit them
more easily and expeditiously than the ass. And when you are
thus prepared and thus exercised to distinguish what belongs
to others from your own ; what is liable to restraint from what is
not; to esteem your own property, the other not; to keep your
desire, to keep your aversion carefully turned to this point;
whom have you any longer to fear? " No one." For about
what should you be afraid ? About what is your own, in which
consists the essence of good and evil? And who hath any
power over this? Who can take it away? Who can hinder
you? No more than God [can be hindered]. But are you
afraid for body, for possessions, for what belongs to others, for
what is nothing to you? And what have you been studying
all this while, but to distinguish between your own and not
your own; what is in your power and what is not in your
power; what is liable to restraint and what is not? And for
what purpose have you applied to the philosophers ? That you
might be nevertheless disappointed and unfortunate? No
doubt you will be exempt from fear and perturbation! And
what is grief to you ? For nothing but what we fear when ex-
pected, affects us with grief when present. And what will you
any longer passionately wish for? For you have a temperate
and steady desire of things dependent on choice, as they are
good, and present; and you have no desire of things inde-
pendent on choice, so as to leave room for that irrational and
impetuous and immoderately hasty passion.

12. Since, then, you are thus affected with regard to things,
what man can any longer be formidable to you? What hath
man formidable to man, either in appearance or spfcech or
mutual intercourse? No more than horse to horse, or dog to
dog, or bee to bee. But things are formidable to every one;
and whenever any person can either confer or take away these
from another, he becomes formidable too. " How, 15 then, is
the citadel " [the seat of tyranny] " to be destroyed? " Not
by sword or fire, but by principle. For if we should demolish
that which is in the town, shall we have demolished also that of
a fever, of pretty girls, in short, the citadel within ourselves;
and turned out the tyrants, to whom we are subject upon all
occasions every day, sometimes the same, sometimes others?

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From hence we must begin, from hence demolish the citadel,
turn out the tyrants; give up body, its parts, riches, power,
fame, magistracies, honours, children, brothers, friends;
esteem all these as belonging to others. And, if the tyrants be
turned out from hence, why should I besides demolish the
[external] citadel; at least, on my own account? For what
doth it do to me by standing? Why should I turn out the
guards ? For in what point do they affect me ? It is against
others they direct their fasces, their staves, and their swords.
Have I ever been restrained from what I willed? Or com-
pelled against my will ? Indeed, how is this possible ? I have
ranged my pursuits under the direction of God. Is it his will
that I should have a fever? It is my will too. Is it his will
that I should pursue anything ? It is my will too. Is it his will
that I should desire? It is my will too. Is it his will that I
should obtain anything? It is mine too. Is it not his will?
It is not mine. Is it his will that I should be tortured ? 16 Then
it is my will to be tortured. Is it his will that I should die?
Then it is my will to die. Who can any longer restrain or
compel me contrary to my own opinion? No more than
Jupiter [can be restrained]. It is thus that cautious travellers
act. Doth any one hear that the road is beset by robbers ? He
doth not set out alone, but waits for the retinue of an ambassador,
or questor, or a pro-consul; and, when he hath joined himself
to their company, goes along in safety. Thus doth the prudent
man act in the world. There are many robberies, tyrants,
storms, distresses, losses of things the most dear. Where is
there any refuge? How can he go along unattacked? What
retinue can he wait for to go safely through his journey? To
what company join himself? To some rich man? To some
consular senator? And what good will that do me? He is
stripped himself; groans and laments. And what if my
fellow-traveller himself should turn against me, and rob me?
What shall I do ? I will be the friend of Caesar. While I am his
companion, no one will injure me. Yet, before I can become
illustrious enough for this, what must I bear and suffer 1 How
often, and by how many, must I be robbed ! And then, if I do
become the friend of Caesar, he too is mortal; and, if by any
accident he should become my enemy, where can I best retreat ?
To a desert? Well, and doth not a fever come there? What
can be done, then? Is it not possible to find a fellow-traveller,
safe, faithful, brave, incapable of being surprised? A person
who reasons thus understands and considers that, if he joins

The Will of God is My Will 209

himself to God, he shall go safely through his journey. " How
do you mean, join himself? " That whatever is the will of God
may be his will too ; whatever is not the will of God may not be
his. " How, then, can this be done? " Why, how otherwise
than by considering the exertions of God's power, and his ad-
ministration? What hath he given me, my own, and inde-
pendent? What hath he reserved to himself? He hath given
me whatever depends upon choice. The things in my power
he hath made incapable of hindrance or restraint. But how
could he make a body of clay 17 incapable of hindrance ? There-
fore he hath subjected [that, and] possessions, furniture, house,
children, wife, to the revolution of the universe. Why, then,
do I fight against God ? Why do I will to retain what depends
not on will? What is not granted absolutely; but how? In
such a manner and for such a time as was thought proper.
But he who gave, takes away. 18 Why, then, do I resist? Not to
say that I shall be a fool in contending with a stronger than
myself; what is a prior consideration, I shall be unjust. For
whence had I these things when I came into the world? My
father gave them to me. And who gave them to him? And
who made tbe sun? Who the fruits? Who the seasons?
Who their connection and relation to each other? And, after
you have received all, and even your very self, from another,
are you angry with the giver, and complain if he takes anything
away from you? Who are you, and for what purpose did you
come? Was it not he who brought you here? Was it not he
who showed you the light ? Hath not he given you assistants ?
Hath not he given you senses? Hath not he given you reason?
And as whom did he bring you here ? Was it not as a mortal ?
Was it not as one to live, with a little portion of flesh, upon
earth, and to see his administration; to behold the spectacle
with him, and partake of the festival for a short time? After
having beheld the spectacle, and the solemnity, then, as long as
it is permitted you, will you not depart when he leads you out,
adoring and thankful for what you have heard and seen?
" No, but I would enjoy the feast still longer/' So would the
initiated, too, be longer in their initiation; so perhaps would
the spectators at Olympia see more combatants. But the solem-
nity is over. Go away. Depart like a grateful and modest
person ; make room for others. Others too must be born, as you
were, and when they are born must have a place and habitations
and necessaries. But if the first do not give way, what room
is there left? Why are you insatiable? Why are you un-

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consci enable ? Why do you crowd the world? "Ay, but I
would have my wife and children with me too." Why, are they
yours ? Are they not the giver's ? Are they not his who made
you also? Will you not quit what belongs to another, then?
Will you not yield to your superior? " Why, then, did he bring
me into the world upon these conditions? " Well, if it is not
worth your while, depart. He hath no need of a discontented
spectator. He wants such as may share the festival, make part
of the chorus, who may rather extol, applaud, celebrate the
solemnity; he will not be displeased to see the wretched and
fearful dismissed from it. For when they were present, they
did not behave as at a festival, nor fill a proper place, but
lamented, found fault with the deity, fortune, their companions ;
insensible both of their advantage and their powers, which they
received for contrary purposes, the powers of magnanimity,
nobleness of spirit, fortitude, and the subject of present inquiry,
freedom. " For what purpose then have I received these
things? " To use them. " How long? " As long as he who
lent them pleases. If, then, they are not necessary, do not
attach yourself to them, and they will not be so; do not tell
yourself that they are necessary, and they are not.

13. This should be our study from morning till night,
beginning from the least and frailest things, from an earthen
vessel, from a glass. Afterwards, proceed to a suit of clothes,
a dog, a horse, an estate ; from thence to your self, body, parts
of the body, children, wife, brothers. Look everywhere around
you, and throw them from yourself. Correct your principles.
See that nothing cleave to you which is not your own ; nothing
grow 19 to you that may give you pain when it is torn away.
And say, when you are daily exercising yourself as you do here,
not that you act the philosopher (admit this to be an insolent
title), but that you are asserting your freedom. For this is
true freedom. This is the freedom that Diogenes gained from
Antisthenes, and declared it was impossible that he should ever
after be a slave to any one. Hence, when he was taken prisoner,
how did he treat the pirates? Did he call any of them master?
(I do not mean the name, for I am not afraid of a word, but the
disposition from whence the word proceeds.) How did he re-
prove them for feeding their prisoners ill? How was he sold?
Did he seek a master ? M No, but a slave. And when he was
sold, how did he converse with his lord? He immediately
disputed with him that he ought not to be dressed nor shaved
in the manner he was; how he ought to bring up his children.

Who Does Wrong Suffers Loss 21 1

And where is the wonder? For if the same master had bought
an instructor for his children in the exercises of the Palaestra,
would he in those exercises have treated him as a servant, or
as a master? And so if he had bought a physician or an archi-
tect? In every subject the skilful must necessarily be superior
to the unskilful. What else, then, can he be but master, who
possesses the universal knowledge of life? For who is master
in a ship ? The pilot. Why ? Because whoever disobeys him
is a loser. " But a master can put me in chains." Can he do
it then without being a loser? " So I, among others, used to
think." But, because he must be a loser, for that very reason
it is not in his power; for no one acts unjustly without being a
loser. " And what loss doth he suffer who puts his own slave
in chains? " What think you? The very putting him in
chains. This you yourself must grant, if you would preserve the
doctrine that man is not a wild but a gentle animal. For
when is it that a vine is in a bad condition? " When is it in
a condition contrary to its nature." When a cock? " The
same." Therefore a man too. What, then, is his nature?
To bite and kick and throw into prison and cut off heads?
No; but to do good, to assist, to indulge the wishes of others.
Whether you will or not, then, he is in a bad condition whenever
he acts unreasonably. " And so was not Socrates in a bad con-
dition? " No; but his judges and accusers. " Nor Helvidius
at Rome? " No; but his murderer. " How do you talk? " 21
Why, just as you do. You do not call that cock in a bad con-
dition which is victorious and wounded, but that which is con-
quered and comes off unhurt. Nor do you call a dog happy
which neither hunts nor toils, but when you see him sweating
and in pain and panting with the chase. In what do we talk
paradoxes? If we say that the evil of everything consists in
what is contrary to its nature, is this a paradox? Do not you
say it with regard to all other things? Why, therefore, in the
case of man alone do you take a different turn? But further,
it is no paradox to say that by nature man is gentle and social
and faithful. " This is none neither." 22 How, then, [is it a
paradox to say] that when he is whipped or imprisoned or
beheaded he is not hurt? If he suffers nobly, doth not he come
off even the better, and a gainer ? But he is the person hurt who
suffers the most miserable and shameful evils; who, instead of
a man, becomes a wolf or viper or a hornet.

14. Come, then, let us recapitulate what hath been granted.
The man who is unrestrained, who hath all things in his power

2 1 2 The Discourses of Epictetus

as he wills, is free ; but he who may be restrained, or compelled,
or hindered, or thrown into any condition against his will, is a
glave. " And who is unrestrained? " He that desires none of
those things which belongs to others. " And what are those
things which belong to others? " Those which are not in our
own power, either to have or not to have, or to have them
of such a sort or in such a state. Body, therefore, belongs to
another, its parts to another, possessions to another. If, then,
you attach yourself to any of these as your own, you will be
punished, as he deserves who desires what belongs to others.
This is the way that leads to freedom, this the only deliverance
from slavery, to be able at length to say from the bottom of
one's soul,

" Conduct me, Jove, and thou, O Destiny,
Wherever your decrees have fixed my lot."

15. But what say you, philosopher? A tyrant summons
you to speak something unbecoming you. Will you say it, or
will you not? " Stay, let me consider." Would you consider
now? And what did you use to consider when you were in
the schools? Did not you study what things are good and
evil and what indifferent? " I did." Well, and what were
the opinions which pleased us? " That just and fair actions 23
were good, unjust and base ones evil." Is living a good?
"No." Dying an evil? "No." A prison? " No." And
what did a mean and dishonest speech, the betraying a friend,
or the flattering a tyrant appear to us? " Evils." Why,
then, are you still considering, and have not already con-
sidered and come to a resolution? For what sort of a con-
sideration is this? Whether I ought, when it is in my power,
to procure myself the greatest good instead of procuring myself
the greatest evil. A fine and necessary consideration, truly,
and deserving mighty deliberation ! Why do you trifle with us,
man? There never was any such point considered; nor, if
you really imagined what was fair and honest to be good, what
base and dishonest evil, and all other things indifferent, would
you ever be at such a stand as this, or near it; but you would
presently be able to distinguish by your understanding, as you
do by your sight. For do you ever consider whether black is
white, or light heavy ? Do not you follow the plain evidence of
your senses? Why, then, do you say that you are now con-
sidering whether things indifferent are to be avoided rather than
evils? The truth is, you have no principles; for neither doth

Words and Deeds 2 1 3

the one sort of things appear to you indifferent, but the greatest
evils; nor the other evils, but matters of no concern to you.
For thus you have accustomed yourself from the first. " Where
am I? In the school? And is there an audience? I talk as
the philosophers do. But am I got out from the school ? Away
with this stuff that belongs only to scholars and fools. This
man is accused by the testimony of a philosopher, his friend;
this philosopher turns parasite, that hires himself out for money,
a third doth it in the very senate. Who doth not wish what
appears [to himself to be right]? His principles exclaim from

within." 24 You are a poor cold lump of opinion, consisting

of mere words, on which you hang as by a hair. But preserve
yourself firm, and make a due use of the appearances, remember-
ing that you are to be exercised in things. In what manner do
you hear, I do not say that your child is dead (for how should
you bear that?), but that your oil is spilled, your wine drunk
out? That any one, while you are bawling, might only say
this, " Philosopher, you talk otherwise in the schools. Why
do you deceive us? Why, when you are a worm, do you call
yourself a man ? " I should be glad to be near one of these
philosophers while he is revelling in debauchery, that I might
see how he exerts himself, and what sayings he utters, whether
he remembers his title, and the discourses which he hears or
speaks or reads.

16. " And what is all this to freedom? " Truly nothing else
is, but this, whether you rich people will or not. " And who
is your evidence of this ? " Who, but yourselves ? Who have
a powerful master, and live by his motion and nod, and faint
away if he doth but look sternly upon you; who pay your
court to old men and old women, and say, " I cannot do this, it
is not in my power." Why is it not in your power? Did not
you just now contradict me, and say you were free? " But
Aprulla to hath forbid me." Speak the truth, then, slave, and
do not run away from your masters, nor deny them, nor dare to
assert your freedom when you have so many proofs of your
slavery. One might indeed find some excuse for a person, com-
pelled by love to do something contrary to his opinion, even
when at the same time he sees what is best and yet hath not
resolution enough to follow it, since he is withheld by something
violent and, in some measure, divine. But who can bear you,
who are in love with old men and women ; and wipe their noses,
and wash them, and bribe them with presents, and wait upon
them when they are sick like a slave; at the same time wishing

2 1 4 The Discourses of Epictetus

they may die, and inquiring of the physician whether their
distemper be yet mortal ? And again, when for these great and
venerable magistracies and honours you kiss the hands of the
slaves of others, so that you are the slave of those who are not
free themselves ! And then you walk about in state, a praetor,
or a consul. Do not I know how you came to be prsetor,
whence you received the consulship, who gave it you? For
my own part, I would not even live, if I must live by Felicio's
means, and bear his pride and slavish insolence. For I know
what a slave is, blinded by what he thinks good fortune.

17. Are you free yourself, then? (it will be said). By
heaven, I wish and pray for it. But I cannot yet face my
masters. I still pay a regard to my body, and set a great value
on keeping it whole, though at the same time it is not whole. 26
But I can show you one who was free, that you may no longer
seek an example. Diogenes was free. "How so?" Not
because he was of free parents, for he was not; but because he
was so himself, because he had cast away all the handles of
slavery, nor was there any way of getting at him, nor anywhere
to lay hold on him to enslave him. Everything sat loose upon
him, everything only just hung on. If you took hold on his
possessions, he would rather let them go than follow you for
them; if on his leg, he let go his leg; if his body, he let go his
body; acquaintance, friends, country, just the same. For he
knew whence he had them, and from whom and upon what
conditions he received them. But he would never have for-
saken his true parents the gods, and his real country, nor have
suffered any one to be more dutiful and obedient to them
than he; nor would any one have died more readily for his
country than he. For he never sought when it would be
proper for him to act for the sake of anything else 27 [except
his real country the universe] ; but he remembered that every-
thing that exists is from thence, and carried on by it and com-
manded by its ruler. Accordingly, see what he himself says
and writes. " Upon this account," says he, " Diogenes, it
is in your power to converse as you will with the Persian
monarch, and with Archidamus, king of the Lacedemonians."
Was it because he was born of free parents? Or was it
because they were descended from slaves that all the Athenians
and all the Lacedemonians and Corinthians could not con-
verse with them as they pleased, but feared and paid court to
them? Why, then, is it in your power, Diogenes? " Because
I do not esteem this sorry body as my own. Because I want

Socrates was Truly Free 2 1 5

nothing. Because these [principles] and nothing else are a
law to me." These were the things that suffered him to be free.
18. And that you may not think that I show you the
example of a man clear of encumbrances, without a wife or
children, or country or friends, or relations to bend and draw
him aside; take Socrates, and consider him, who had a wife
and children, but not as his own; a country, friends, relations,
but only as long as it was proper, and in the manner that was
proper ; and all these he submitted to the law and to the obedi-
ence due to it. Hence, when it was proper to fight he was the
first to go out, and exposed himself to danger without the least
reserve. But when he was sent by the thirty tyrants to appre-
hend Leo, 28 because he esteemed it a base action he did not
deliberate about it, though he knew that, perhaps, he might die
for it. But what did that signify to him? For it was some-
thing else that he wanted to preserve, not his paltry flesh; but
his fidelity, his honour, free from attack or subjection. And
afterwards, when he was to make a defence for his life, doth he
behave like one who had children? Or a wife? No; 29 but
like a single man. And how doth he behave when he was to
drink the poison? When he might have escaped, and Crito
persuaded him to get out of prison for the sake of his children,
what doth he say ? Doth he esteem it a fortunate opportunity ?
How should he? But he considers what is becoming, and
neither sees nor regards anything else. " For I am not desirous,"
says he, " to preserve this pitiful body, but that [part of me]
which is improved and preserved by justice, and impaired and
destroyed by injustice." Socrates is not to be basely preserved.
He who refused to vote for what the Athenians commanded, he
who contemned the thirty tyrants, he who held such discourses
on virtue and moral beauty : such a man is not to be preserved
by a base action; but is preserved by dying, not by running
away. For even a good actor is preserved by leaving off when
he ought, not by going on to act beyond his time. " What,
then, will become of your children? " " If I had gone away to
Thessaly you would have taken care of them; and will there
be no one to take care of them when I am departed to Hades ? "
You see how he ridicules and plays with death. But, if it had
been you or I, we should presently have proved, by philo-
sophical arguments, that those who act unjustly are to be
repaid in their own way; and should have added, " If I escape,
I shall be of use to many; if I die, to none." Nay, if it had
been necessary, we should have crept through a mouse-hole to

2i6 The Discourses of Epictetus

get away. But how should we have been of use to any? For
where must they have dwelt? If we were useful alive, should
we not be of still more use to mankind by dying when we
ought, and as we ought? And now the remembrance of the
death of Socrates is not less, but even more useful to the world
than that of the things which he did and said when alive.

19. Study these points, these principles, these discourses,
contemplate these examples, if you would be free, if you desire
the thing in proportion to its value. And where is the wonder
that you should purchase so great a thing at the price of others,
so many, and so great? Some hang themselves, others break
their necks, and sometimes even whole cities have been
destroyed, for that which is reputed freedom ; and will not you,
for the sake of the true and secure and inviolable freedom, repay
God what he hath given when he demands it? Will you not
study, not only as Plato says, to die, but to be tortured and
banished and scourged, and, in short, to give up all that belongs
to others? If not, you will be a slave among slaves, though
you were ten thousand times a consul; and, even though you
should rise to the palace, you will be never the less so. And
you will feel that though philosophers (as Cleanthes says) do,
perhaps, talk contrary to common opinion, yet not contrary to
reason. For you will find it true, in fact, that the things that
are eagerly followed and admired are of no use to those who
have gained them; while they who have not yet gained them
imagine that, if they are acquired, every good will come along
with them; and then, when they are acquired, there is the same
feverishness, the same agitation, the same nauseating, and the
same desire of what is absent. For freedom is not procured by
a full enjoyment of what is desired, but by proving the desire to
be a wrong one. And, in order to know that this is true, take
the same pains about these which you have taken about other
things. Lie awake to acquire a set of principles that will make
you free. Instead of a rich old man, pay your court to a philo-
sopher. Be seen about his doors. You will not get any dis-
grace by being seen there. You will not return empty, or un-
profited, if you go as you ought. However, try at least. The
trial is not dishonourable.

The Price of Popularity 217

CHAPTER II

OF COMPLAISANCE l

i. To this point you must attend before all others: not to be
so attached to any one of your former acquaintance or friends, as
to condescend to the same behaviour with his, otherwise you
will undo yourself. But, if it comes into your head, I shall
appear odd to him, and he will not treat me as before ; remember
that there is nothing to be had for nothing; nor is it possible
that he who acts in the same manner should not be the same
person. Choose, then, whether you will be loved by those you
were formerly, and be like your former self, or be better and
not meet with the same treatment. For, if this is preferable,
immediately incline altogether that way, and let no other kinds
of reasoning draw you aside ; for no one can improve while he is
wavering. 2 If, then, you prefer this to every thing, if you would
be fixed only on this, and employ all your pains about it, give
up everything else. Otherwise this wavering will affect you
both ways: you will neither make a due improvement, nor
preserve the advantages you had before. For before, by setting
your heart entirely on things of no value, you were agreeable to
your companions. But you cannot excel in both kinds, but
must necessarily lose as much of the one as you partake of the
other. If you do not drink with those with whom you used to
drink, you cannot appear equally agreeable to them. Choose,
then, whether you would be a drunkard and agreeable to them,
or sober and disagreeable to them. If you do not sing with
those with whom you used to sing, you cannot be equally dear
to them. Here too, then, choose which you will. For if it is
better to be modest and decent than to have it said of you,
What an agreeable fellow! give up the rest; renounce it, with-
draw yourself, have nothing to do with it. But, if this doth not
please you, incline with your whole force the contrary way.
Be one of the catamites, one of the adulterers. Act all that is
consequent to such a character, and you will obtain what you
would have. Jump up in the theatre, too, and roar out in
praise of the dancer. But characters so different are not to be
confounded. You cannot act both Thersites and Agamemnon.
If you would be Thersites, you must be hump-backed and bald :
if Agamemnon, tall and handsome, and a lover of those who are
under your care.

21 8 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER III

WHAT THINGS ARE TO BE EXCHANGED FOR OTHERS

i. WHEN you have lost anything external, have this always
at hand, what you have got instead of it; and, if that be of
more value, do not by any means say, " I am a loser " ; whether
it be a horse for an ass, an ox for a sheep, a good action for a
piece of money, a due composedness of mind for a dull jest, or
modesty for indecent discourse. By continually remembering
this, you will preserve your character such as it ought to be.
Otherwise consider that you are spending your time in vain;
and all that you are now applying your mind to, you are going
to spill and overset. And there needs but little and a small
deviation from reason to destroy and overset all. A pilot doth
not need the same apparatus to overset a ship as to save it;
but, if he turns it a little to the wind, it is lost: even if he should
not do it by design, but only for a moment be thinking of some-
thing else, it is lost. Such is the case here too. If you do but
nod a little, all that you have hitherto collected is gone. Take
heed then to the appearances of things. Keep yourself awake
over them. It is no inconsiderable matter you have to guard,
but modesty, fidelity, constancy, enjoyment, 1 exemption from
grief, fear, perturbation; in short, freedom. For what will
you sell these? Consider what the purchase is worth. " But
shall I not get such a thing instead of it? " Consider, if you do
get it, 2 what it is that you obtain for the other. I have decency ;
another the office of a tribune: I have modesty; he hath the
prsetorship. But I do not make acclamations where it is unbe-
coming: I shall not rise 3 up [to do honour to another] in a case
where I ought not; for I am free, and the friend of God, so as to
obey him willingly ; but I must not value anything else, neither
body, nor possessions, nor fame; in short, nothing. For it is
not his will that I should value them. For if this had been his
pleasure, he would have made them my good, which now he
hath not done; therefore I cannot transgress his commands.
" In everything preserve your own proper good." " But what
of the rest? " " Preserve them too according as it is permitted,
and so far as to behave agreeably to reason in relation to them,
contented with this alone. Otherwise you will be unfortunate,
disappointed, restrained, hindered." These are the laws, these

The Use and Abuse of Study 219

the statutes, transmitted from thence. Of these one ought to be
an expositor, and to these obedient, not to those of Masurius 4
and Cassius.

CHAPTER IV

CONCERNING THOSE WHO EARNESTLY DESIRE A LIFE OF REPOSE

i. REMEMBER that it is not only the desire of riches and
power that renders us mean and subject to others, but even of
quiet and leisure, and learning and travelling. For, in general,
valuing any external thing whatever subjects us to another.
Where is the difference, then, whether you desire to be a senator
or not to be a senator? Where is the difference whether you
desire power or to be out of power? Where is the difference
whether you say, " I am in a wretched way; I have nothing to
do, but am tied down to books as inactive as if I were dead " ;
or, "I am in a wretched way; I have no leisure to read " ?
For as levees and power are among things external and inde-
pendent on choice, so likewise is a book. For what purpose
would you read? Tell me. For if you rest merely in being
amused and learning something, you are insignificant and
miserable. But if you refer it to what you ought, what is that
but a prosperous life? And if reading doth not procure you a
prosperous life, of what use is it? " But it doth procure a
prosperous life (say you); and therefore I am uneasy at being
deprived of it." And what sort of prosperity is that which
everything, I do not say Caesar, or the friend of Caesar, but a
crow, a piper, a fever, ten thousand other things, can hinder?
But nothing is so essential to prosperity as the being perpetual
and unhindered. I am now called to do something. I now go,
therefore, and will be attentive to the bounds and measures
which ought to be observed, that I may act modestly, steadily,
and without desire or aversion with regard to externals. 1 In
the next place, I am attentive to other men, what they say and
how they are moved; and that not from ill-nature, nor that I
may have an opportunity for censure or ridicule; but I turn
to myself and ask, " Am I also guilty of the same faults; and
how then shall I leave them off? " a Once I too was faulty;
but, God be thanked, not now. Well, when you have done
thus and been employed in this manner, have not you done as

22O The Discourses of Epictetus

good a work as if you had read a thousand lines, or written as
many ? For are you uneasy at not reading while you are eating,
or bathing, or exercising ? Are not you satisfied with perform-
ing these actions conformably to what you have read? Why,
then, do you not think uniformly about everything? When
you approach Caesar or any other person, if you preserve yourself
unpassionate, unalarmed, sedate ; if you are rather an observer
of what is done than yourself observed; if you do not envy
those who are preferred to you; if the materials of action do
not strike you ; what do you want ? Books ? How, or to what
end ? For is not this a kind of preparation for living, but living
itself, made up of things different? Just as if a champion,
when he enters the lists, should fall a-crying because he is not
exercising without. It was for this that you used to be exer-
cised. For this were the poisers, the dust, 3 the young fellows
your antagonists. And do you now seek for these, when it is
the time for business? This is just as if, in the topic of assent,
when we are presented with appearances, of which some are
evidently true, others not, instead of distinguishing them we
should want to read dissertations on evidence.

2. What, then, is the cause of this? That we have neither
read nor written, in order to treat the appearances that occur to
us, conformably to nature, in our behaviour. But we stop
at learning what is said, and being able to explain it to others ;
at solving syllogisms and ranging hypothetical arguments.
Hence, where the study is, there too is the hindrance. Do you
desire absolutely what is out of your power? Be restrained,
then, be hindered, be disappointed. But if we read disserta-
tions about the exertion of the efforts, not merely to see what is
said about the efforts, but to exert them well; on desire and
aversion, that we may not be disappointed of our desires nor
incur our aversions; on the duties of life, that, mindful of our
relations, we may do nothing irrationally nor contrary to them:
we should not be provoked at being hindered in our reading,
but should be contented with the performance of actions suitable
to us, and should not compute as we have hitherto been accus-
tomed to compute. "To-day I have read so many lines; I
have written so many "; but, " To-day I have used my efforts
as the philosophers direct. I have restrained my desires abso-
lutely; I have applied my aversion only to things dependent
on choice. I have not been terrified by such a one, nor put out
of countenance by such another. I have exercised my patience,
my abstinence, my beneficence." And thus we should thank

Amid the Maddening Crowd 221

God for what we ought to thank him. But now we resemble
the vulgar in another way also, and do not know it. One is
afraid that he shall not be in power; you, 4 that you shall. By
no means be afraid of it, man; but as you laugh at him, laugh
at yourself. For there is no difference whether you thirst like
one in a fever, or dread water like him who is bit by a mad dog.
Else how can you say, like Socrates, " If it so pleases God, so
let it be " ? Do you think that Socrates, if he had fixed his
desires on the leisure of the Lyceum, or the Academy, or the
conversation of the youth there, day after day, would have
made so many campaigns as he did so readily ? Would not he
have lamented and groaned: "How wretched am I! now
must I be miserable here when I might be sunning myself in the
Lyceum "? Was that your business in life, then, to sun your-
self? Was it not to be prosperous? To be unrestrained?
Unhindered ? And how could he have been Socrates, if he had
lamented thus ? How could he, after that, have written paeans
in a prison ?

3. In short, then, remember this, that whatever external
to your own choice you esteem, you destroy that choice. And
not only power is external to it, but the being out of power
too; not only business, but leisure too. " Then, must I live
in this tumult now? " What do you call a tumult? "A
multitude of people." And where is the hardship? Suppose
it is the Olympic games. Think it a public assembly. There,
too, some bawl out one thing, some do another; some push the
rest. The baths are crowded. Yet who of us is not pleased
with these assemblies, and doth not grieve to leave them?
Do not be hard to please, and squeamish at what happens.
" Vinegar is disagreeable (says one), for it is sour. Honey is
disagreeable (says a second), for it disorders my constitution.
I do not like vegetables, says a third. Thus, too (say others),
I do not like retirement; it is a desert: I do not like a crowd;
it is a tumult. " Why, if things are so disposed that you are to
live alone, or with few, call this condition a repose, and make
use of it as you ought. Talk with yourself, exercise the appear-
ances presented to your mind, work up your preconceptions to
accuracy. But if you light on a crowd, call it one of the public
games, a grand assembly, a festival. Endeavour to share in
the festival with the rest of the world. For what sight is more
pleasant to a lover of mankind than a great number of men?
We see companies of oxen, or horses, with pleasure. We are
highly delighted to see a great many ships. Who is sorry to

222 The Discourses of Epictetus

see a great many men? " But they stun me with their noise."
Then your hearing is hindered, and what is that to you ? Is
your faculty of making a right use of the appearances of things
hindered too? Or who can restrain you from using your desire
and aversion, your powers of pursuit and avoidance, conform-
able to nature? What tumult is sufficient for this? Do but
remember the general rules. What is mine? W T hat not mine ?
What is allotted me? What is the will of God, that I should do
now ? What is not his will ? A little while ago it was his will
that you should be at leisure, should talk with yourself, write
about these things, read, hear, prepare yourself. You have had
sufficient time for this. At present he says to you, " Come now
to the combat. Show us what you have learned, how you have
wrestled." How long would you exercise by yourself? It is
now the time to show whether you are of the number of those
champions who merit victory, or of those who go about the
world, conquered in all the games round. Why, then, are you
out of humour? There is no combat without a tumult. There
must be many preparatory exercises, many acclamations, many
masters, many spectators. " But I would live in quiet."
Why, then, lament and groan, as you deserve. For what
greater punishment is there to the uninstructed, and disobedient
to the orders of God, than to grieve, to mourn, to envy; in
short, to be disappointed and unhappy? Are not you willing
to deliver yourself from all this? "And how shall I deliver
myself? " Have not you heard that you must absolutely
withhold desire, and apply aversion to such things only as are
dependent on choice? That you must give up all, body,
possessions, fame, books, tumults, power, exemption from
power? For to whichsoever your propension is, you are a
slave, you are under subjection, you are made liable to restraint,
to compulsion; you are altogether the property of others.
But have that of Clean thes always ready,

" Conduct me, Jove; and thou, O Destiny."

Is it your will that I should go to Rome? Conduct me to
Rome. To Gyaros? To Gyaros. To Athens? To Athens.
To prison? To prison. If you once say, " When is one to go
to Athens? " you are undone. This desire, if it be unaccom-
plished, must necessarily render you disappointed; and, if
fulfilled, vain on what ought not to elate you : on the contrary,
if you are hindered, wretched, by incurring what you do not
like. Therefore give up all these things." Athens is a fine

A Golden Rule 223

place." But it is a much finer thing to be happy, impassive,
tranquil, not to have what concerns you dependent on others.
" Rome is full of tumults and visits." But prosperity is
worth all difficulties. If, then, it be a proper time for these,
why do not you withdraw your aversion from them? (What
necessity is there for you to be made to carry your burden, by
being cudgelled, like an ass?) Otherwise, consider that you
must always be a slave to him who hath the power to procure
your discharge, to every one who hath the power of hindering
you ; and must worship him like your evil genius.

4. The only way to real prosperity (let this rule be at hand
morning, noon, and night) is a resignation of things independent
on choice; to esteem nothing as a property; to deliver up all
things to our tutelar genius and to fortune; to make those the
governors of them, whom Jupiter hath made so; to be our-
selves devoted to that only which is our property, to that which
is incapable of restraint; and whatever we read, or write, or
hear, to refer all to this.

5. Therefore I cannot call any one industrious if I hear only
that he reads or writes ; nor even if he adds the whole night to
the day do I call him so, unless I know to what he refers it.
For not even you would call him industrious who sits up for the
sake of a girl, nor therefore in the other case do I. But if he
doth it for fame, I call him ambitious; if for money, avaricious;
if from the desire of learning, bookish; but not industrious.
But if he refers his labour to his ruling faculty, in order to treat
and regulate it conformably to nature, then only I call him
industrious. For never either praise or blame any person on
account of outward actions that are common to all, but on the
account of principles. These are the peculiar property of each
individual, and the things which make actions good or bad.

6. Mindful of this, be pleased with the present, and contented
with whatever it is the season for. If you perceive any of those
things which you have learned and studied occurring to you in
action, rejoice in them. If you have laid aside ill-nature and
reviling ; if you have lessened your harshness, indecent language,
inconsiderateness, effeminacy; if you are not moved by the
same things as formerly, if not in the same manner as formerly,
you may keep a perpetual festival: to-day, because you have
behaved well in one affair; to-morrow, because in another.
How much better a reason for sacrifice is this, than obtaining a
consulship or a government? These things you have from
yourself and from the gods. Remember this, who it is that

224 The Discourses of Epictetus

gave them, and to whom, and for what purpose. Habituated
once to these reasonings, can you still think there is any differ-
ence, in what place you are to please God? Are not the gods
everywhere at the same distance? Do not they everywhere
equally see what is doing ?

CHAPTER V

CONCERNING THE QUARRELSOME AND FEROCIOUS

i. A WISE and good person neither quarrels with any one
himself, nor, as far as possible, suffers another. The life of
Socrates affords us an example of this too, as well as of the other
virtues, who not only everywhere avoided quarrelling hirrself,
but did not even suffer others to quarrel. See in Xenophon's
Symposium, how many quarrels he ended ; how, again, he bore
with Thrasymachus, with Polus, with Callicles; how with his
wife; how with his son, who attempted to confute him, and
cavilled with him. For he well remembered, that no one is
master of the ruling faculty of another, and therefore he desired
nothing but what was his own. " And what is that? " Not
that this or that person 1 should be moved conformably to
nature, for that belongs to others; but that while they act in
their own way as they please, he should nevertheless be affected,
and live conformably to nature, only doing what belongs to
himself in order to make them too live conformably to nature.
For this is the point that a wise and good person hath in view.
To have the command of an army? No; but if it be allotted
him, to preserve on this subject of action the right conduct of
his own ruling faculty. To marry? No; but if a marriage
be allotted him, to preserve himself, on this subject of action,
conformable to nature. But if he would have his wife or his
child exempt from fault, he would have that his own which
belongs to others. And being instructed consists in this very
point, to learn what things are our own, and what belongs to
others.

2. What room is there, then, for quarrelling to a person thus
disposed? For doth he wonder at anything that happens?
Doth it appear new to him? Doth not he expect worse and
more grievous injuries from bad people than happen to him?
Doth he not reckon it so much gained, as they come short of the

The Loss of Rectitude 225

last extremities? Such a one hath reviled you. You are much
obliged to him that he hath not struck you. But he hath struck
you too. You are much obliged to him that he hath not
wounded you too. But he hath wounded you too. You are
much obliged to him that he hath not killed you. For when
did he ever learn, or from whom, that he is a gentle, that he is a
social animal, that the very injury itself is a great mischief to
the injurious? As, then, he hath not learned these things, nor
believes them, why should he not follow what appears for his
interest? Your neighbour hath thrown stones. What then?
Is it any fault of yours? But your goods are broken. What
then? Are you a piece of furniture? No, but your essence
consists in the faculty of choice. What behaviour, then, is
assigned you in return? If you consider yourself as a wolf
to bite again, to throw more stones. But if you ask the ques-
tion as a man, examine your treasure; see what faculties you
have brought into the world with you. Are they dispositions
to ferocity ? to revenge ? When is a horse miserable ? When
he is deprived of his natural faculties. Not when he cannot
crow, but when he cannot run. And a dog? not when he
cannot fly, but when he cannot hunt. Is not a man, then, also
unhappy in the same manner? Not he who cannot strangle
lions, or grasp statues 2 (for he hath received no faculties for this
purpose from nature), but who hath lost his rectitude of mind,
his fidelity. Such a one is the person who ought to be publicly
lamented for the misfortunes into which he is fallen; not, by
heaven, either he who is born 3 or dies, but he whom it hath
befallen while he lives to lose what is properly his own, not his
paternal possessions, his paltry estate or his house, his lodging
or his slaves (for none of these are a man's own, but all belong-
ing to others, servile, dependent, and given at different times,
to different persons, by the disposers of them); but his personal
qualifications as a man, the impressions which he brought into
the world stamped upon his mind; such as we seek in money,
and, if we find them, allow it to be good; if not, throw it away.
" What impression hath this piece of money? " " Trajan's."
" Give it me.'* Nero's." 4 Throw it away. It is false, it is
good for nothing. So in the other case. " What impression
have his principles? " " Gentleness, social affection, patience,
good-nature." Bring them hither. I receive them. I make
such a man a citizen; I receive him for a neighbour, a fellow-
traveller. Only, see that he hath not the Neronian impression.
Is he passionate? Is he resentful? Is he querulous? Would

226 The Discourses of Epictetus

he, if he took the fancy, break the head of those who fall in his
way? Why, then, do you call him a man? For is everything
distinguished by the mere outward form? Then say, just as
well, that a piece of wax is an apple, or that it hath the smell and
taste too. But the external figure is not enough; nor, conse-
quently, is it sufficient to make a man that he hath a nose and
eyes, if he hath not the proper principles of a man. Such a one
doth not understand reason, or apprehend when he is confuted.
He is an ass. Another is dead to the sense of shame. He is a
worthless creature; 6 anything, rather than a man. Another
seeks whom he may kick or bite, so that he is neither sheep nor
ass. But what then? He is a wild beast.

3. " Well, but would you have me despised, then? " By
whom? By those who know you? And how can they despise
you, who know you to be gentle and modest? But, perhaps,
by those who do not know you? And what is that to you?
For no other artist troubles himself about the ignorant. " But
people will be much the readier to attack me." Why do you
say me? Can any one hurt your choice, or restrain you from
treating conformably to nature the appearances that are pre-
sented to you? Why, then, are you disturbed, and desirous
to make yourself appear formidable? Why do not you make
public proclamation that you are at peace with all mankind,
however they may act, and that you chiefly laugh at those who
suppose they can hurt you? "These wretches neither know
who I am, or in what consist my good and evil, or that there is no
access for them to what is really mine." Thus the inhabitants
of a fortified city laugh at the besiegers. " What trouble now
are these people giving themselves for nothing? Our wall is
secure, we have provisions for a very long time, and every other
preparation." These are what render a city fortified and im-
pregnable, but nothing but its principles render the human
soul so. For what wall is so strong, what body so impenetrable,
or what possession so unalienable, or what dignity so secured
against stratagems? All things else, everywhere else, are
mortal, easily reduced; and whoever in any degree fixes his
mind upon them, must necessarily be subject to perturba-
tion, despair, terrors, lamentations, disappointed desires, and
incurred aversions.

4. And will we not fortify then the only place of security that
is granted us, and, withdrawing ourselves from what is mortal
and servile, diligently improve what is immortal and by nature
free? Do we not remember that no one either hurts or benefits

Patience and Cheerfulness 227

another; but the principle, which we hold concerning every
thing, doth it? It is this that hurts us; this that overturns
us. Here is the fight, the sedition, the war. It was nothing
else that made Eteocles and Polynices enemies but their prin-
ciple concerning empire and their principle concerning exile;
that the one seemed the extremest evil, the other the greatest
good. Now, the very nature of every one is to pursue good, to
avoid evil, to esteem him as an enemy and betrayer who deprives
us of the one, and involves us in the other, though he be a
brother, or a son, or father. For nothing is more nearly related
to us than good. So that if good and evil consist in externals,
there is no affection between father and son, brother and
brother; but all is everywhere full of enemies, betrayers,
sycophants. But if a right choice be the only good, and a
wrong one the only evil, what further room is there for quarrel-
ling, for reviling? About what? About what is nothing to
us? Against whom? Against the ignorant, against the un-
happy, against those who are deceived in things of the greatest
importance ?

5. Mindful of this, Socrates lived in his own house, patiently
bearing a furious wife, a senseless son. For what were the
effects of her fury ? The throwing as much water as she pleased
on his head, the trampling fl a cake under her feet. " And
what is this to me, if I think such things nothing to me ? This
very point is my business, and neither a tyrant nor a master
shall restrain my will; nor multitudes, though I am a single
person; nor one ever so strong, though I am ever so weak.
For this is given by God to every one, free from restraint."

6. These principles make friendship in families, concord in
cities, peace in nations. They make a person grateful to God,
everywhere in good spirits [about externals] as belonging to
others, as of no value. But we, alas ! are able indeed to write
and read these things, and to praise them when they are read;
but very far from being convinced by them. Therefore what
is said of the Lacedemonians,

44 Lions at home, foxes at Ephesus,"

may be applied to us too : lions in the school, but foxes out of it.

228 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER VI

CONCERNING THOSE WHO GRIEVE AT BEING PITIED

i. IT vexes me, say you, to be pitied. Is this your affair,
then, or theirs who pity you ? And further : How is it in your
power to prevent it? " It is, if I show them that I do not need
pity." But are you now in such a condition as not to need
pity, or are you not? " I think I am. But these people do not
pity me for what, if anything, would deserve pity my faults;
but for poverty and want of power, and sicknesses, and deaths,
and other things of that kind." Are you, then, prepared to
convince the world that none of these things is in reality an
evil ; but that it is possible for a person to be happy, even when
he is poor and without honours and power? Or are you pre-
pared to appear to them rich and powerful ? The last of these
is the part of an arrogant, silly, worthless fellow. Observe, too,
by what means this fiction must be carried on. You must hire
some paltry slaves, and get possessed of a few little pieces of
plate and often show them in public, and, though they are the
same, endeavour to conceal that they are the same; you must
have gay clothes and other finery, and make a show of being
honoured by your great people, and endeavour to sup with
them, or be thought to sup with them; and use some vile arts
with your person, to make it appear handsomer and genteeler
than it really is. All this you must contrive, if you would take
the second way not to be pitied. And the first is impracticable,
as well as tedious, to undertake the very thing that Jupiter
himself could not do: to convince all mankind what things are
really good and evil. Is this granted you? The only thing
granted you is to convince yourself, and you have not yet done
that; and do you, notwithstanding, undertake to convince
others? Why, who hath lived so long with you as you have
with yourself? Who is so likely to have faith in you, in order
to be convinced by you, as you in yourself? Who is a better
wisher, or a nearer friend to you, than you to yourself? How
is it, then, that you have not yet convinced yourself? Should
not you l now turn these things every way in your thoughts?
What you were studying was this : to learn to be exempt from
grief, perturbation, and meanness, and to be free. Have not
you heard, then, that the only way that leads to this is to give

Be Your Own Scholar and Teacher 229

up what doth not depend on choice : to withdraw from it, and
confess that it belongs to others ? What kind of thing, then, is
another's opinion about you? " Independent on choice." Is
it nothing, then, to you? "Nothing." While you are still
piqued and disturbed about it, then, do you think that you are
convinced concerning good and evil ?

2. Letting others alone, then, why will you not be your own
scholar and teacher? Let others look to it, whether it be for
their advantage to think and act contrary to nature; but no
one is nearer to me than myself. What, then, is the meaning
of this? I have heard the reasonings of philosophers, and
assented to them; yet, in fact, I am never the more relieved.
Am I so stupid ? And yet in other things that I had an inclina-
tion to, I was not found very stupid; but I quickly learned
grammar, and the exercises of the Palaestra, and geometry, and
the solution of syllogisms. Hath not reason, then, convinced
me ? And yet there is no one of the other things that I so much
approved or liked from the very first. And now I read concern-
ing these subjects, I hear discourses upon them, I write about
them, and I have not yet found any reasoning of greater strength
than this. What, then, do I want? Is it not that the contrary
principles are not removed out of my mind? Is it not that I
have not strengthened these opinions by exercise, nor accus-
tomed them to occur in action; but, like arms thrown aside,
they are grown rusty and do not fit me? Yet neither in the
Palaestra, nor writing, nor reading, nor solving syllogisms, am
I contented with mere learning : I at I turn the arguments every
way which are presented to me, and I compose others ; and the
same of convertible propositions. But the necessary theorems,
by which I might become exempted from fear, grief, passion,
unrestrained and free, I neither exercise, nor study, with a
proper application. And then I trouble myself what others
will say of me ; whether I shall appear to them worthy of regard ;
whether I shall appear happy. Will you not see, wretch, what
you can say of yourself? What sort of person you appear to
yourself in your opinions, in your desires, in your aversions, in
your pursuits, in your preparation, in your intention, in the
other proper works of a man? But instead of that do you
trouble yourself whether others pity you? " Very true. But
I am pitied improperly." Then are not you pained by this?
And is not he who is in pain to be pitied ? " Yes." How, then,
are you pitied improperly? For you render yourself worthy
of pity by what you suffer upon being pitied.

230 The Discourses of Epictetus

3. What says Antisthenes, then? Have you never heard?
"It is kingly, Cyrus, to do well, and to be ill spoken of."
My head is well, and all around me think it aches. What is that
to me? I am free from a fever; and they compassionate me
as if I had one. " Poor soul, what a long while have you had
this fever ! " I say, too, with a dismal countenance, Ay, indeed,
it is now a long time that I have been ill. " What can be the
consequence, then? " What pleases God. And at the same
time I secretly laugh at them who pity me. What forbids, then,
but that the same may be done in the other case? I am poor,
but I have right principles concerning poverty. What is it to
me, then, if people pity me for my poverty ? I am not in power,
and others are; but I have such opinions as I ought to have
concerning power, and the want of power. Let them see to it
who pity me. But I am neither hungry, nor thirsty, nor cold.
But, because they are hungry and thirsty, they suppose me to
be so too. What can I do for them, then? Am I to go about
making proclamation, and saying, Do not deceive yourselves,
good people, I am very well : I regard neither poverty, nor want
of power, nor anything else, but right principles. These I
possess unrestrained. I care for nothing further. But what
trifling is this? How have I right principles when I am not
contented to be what I am, but am out of my wits how I shall
appear? But others will get more, and be preferred to me.
Why, what is more reasonable than that they who take pains
for anything should get most in that particular in which they
take pains? They have taken pains for power; you, for right
principles : they, for riches ; you, for a proper use of the appear-
ances of things. See whether they have the advantage of you
in that for which you have taken pains, and which they neglect;
if they assent better concerning the natural bounds and limits
of things ; if their desires are less disappointed than yours, their
aversions less incurred; if they take a better aim in their
intention, in their purposes, in their pursuits; whether they
preserve a becoming behaviour as men, as sons, as parents, and
so on in respect of the other relations of life. But if they are
in power, and you not, 2 why will you not speak the truth to
yourself that you do nothing for the sake of power, but that
they do everything? And it is very unreasonable, that he who
carefully seeks anything should be less successful than he who
neglects it. "No; but, since I take care to have right prin-
ciples, it is more reasonable that I should have power." Yes,
in respect to what you take care about, your principles. But

Be Reasonable 231

give up to others the things in which they have taken more
care than you. Else it is just as if, because you have right
principles, you should think it fit that when you shoot an arrow
you should hit the mark better than an archer, or that you
should forge better than a smith. Therefore let alone taking
pains about principles, and apply yourself to the things which
you wish to possess, and then fall a-crying if you do not succeed ;
for you deserve to cry. But now you say that you are engaged
in other things, intent upon other things ; and it is a true saying,
that one business doth not suit with another. One man, as
soon as he rises and goes out, seeks to whom he may pay his
compliments, whom he may flatter, to whom he may send a
present; how he may please the dancer [in vogue]; how by
doing ill-natured offices to one, he may oblige another. When
ever he prays, he prays for things like these ; whenever he sacri-
fices, he sacrifices for things like these. To these he transfers
the Pythagorean precept,

" Let not the stealing god of sleep surprise," etc.]

3 Where have I failed in point of flattery? What have I done?
Anything like a free, brave-sr ; rited man? If he should find
anything of this sort, he rebukes and accuses himself. " What
business had you to say that? For could not you have lied?
Even the philosophers say there is no objection against telling
a lie."

4. But, on the other hand, if you have in reality been careful
about nothing else but to make a right use of the appearance
of things, as soon as you are up in a morning consider, What do
I want in order to be free from passion? What, to enjoy tran-
quillity? What am I? Am I mere worthless body? Am I
estate? Am I reputation? None of these. What, then?
I am a reasonable creature. What, then, is required of me?
Recollect your actions. Where have I failed in any requisite for
prosperity ? What have I done, either unfriendly or unsociable ?
What have I omitted that was necessary in these points ?

5. Since there is so much difference, then, in your desires,
your actions, your wishes, would you yet have an equal share
with others in those things about which you have not taken
pains and they have? And do you wonder, after all, and are
you out of humour, if they pity you ? But they are not out of
humour if you pity them. Why? Because they are con-
vinced that they are in possession of their proper good; but
you are not convinced that you are. Hence you are not con-

232 The Discourses of Epictetus

tented with you own condition, but desire theirs; whereas
they are contented with theirs, and do not desire yours. For,
if you were really convinced that it is you who are in possession
of what is good, and that they are mistaken, you would not so
much as think what they say about you.

CHAPTER VII

OF FEARLESSNESS

i. WHAT makes a tyrant formidable? His guards, say you,
and their swords; they who belong to the bedchamber, and
they who shut out those who would go in. What is the reason,
then, that, if you bring a child to him when he is surrounded
by his guards, it is not afraid ? Is it because the child doth not
know what they mean? Suppose, then, that any one doth
know what is meant by guards, and that they are armed with
swords, and, for that very reason, comes in the tyrant's way,
being desirous, on account of some misfortune, to die, and
seeking to die easily by the hand of another; doth such a man
fear the guards ? No; for he wants the very thing that renders
them formidable. Well, then, if any one without an absolute
desire to live or die, but, as it may happen, comes in the way of
a tyrant, what restrains his approaching him without fear?
Nothing. If, then, another should think concerning his estate
or wife or children as this man doth concerning his body, and,
in short, from some madness or folly, should be of such a dis-
position as not to care whether he hath them or hath them
not; but, as children playing with shells make a difference
indeed in the play, but do not trouble themselves about the
shells, so he should pay no regard to the materials [of action],
but apply himself to the playing with, and management of,
them; what tyrant, what guards, or their swords are any
longer formidable to such a man?

2. And is it possible that any one should be thus disposed
towards these things from madness, 1 and the Galileans from
mere habit; yet that no one should be able to learn, from
reason and demonstration, that God made all things in the
world, and the whole world itself, unrestrained and perfect, and
all its parts for the use of the whole? All other creatures are

All Will Be Well 233

indeed excluded from a power of comprehending the adminis-
tration of the world ; but a reasonable being hath abilities for
the consideration of all these things, both that itself is a part,
and what part, and that it is fit the parts should submit to the
whole. Besides, being by nature constituted noble, nagmani-
mous, and free, it sees that, of the things which relate to it,
some are restrained and in its own power, some restrained, and
in the power of others; the unrestrained, such as depend on
choice; the restrained, such as do not depend on it. And, for
this reason, if it esteems its good and its interest to consist in
things unrestrained, and in its own power, it will be free, pros-
perous, happy, unhurt, magnanimous, pious, thankful 2 to God
for everything, never finding fault with anything, never cen-
suring anything that is brought to pass by him. But, if it
esteems its good and its interest to consist in externals, and
things independent on choice, it must necessarily be restrained,
be hindered, be enslaved to those who have the power over
those things which it admires and fears ; it must necessarily be
impious, as supposing itself injured by God, and inequitable, as
claiming more than its share; it must necessarily, too, be
abject and mean-spirited.

3. What forbids but that he, who distinguishes these things,
may live with an easy and light heart, quietly expecting what-
ever may happen, and bearing contentedly what hath happened ?
Would you have poverty fbe my lot]? Bring it, and you shall
see what poverty is when it hath got one to act it well. Would
you have power? Bring toils, too, along with it. Banishment?
Wherever I go it will be well with me there, for it was well with
me here, not on account of the place, but of the principles which
I shall carry away with me, for no one can deprive me of these ;
on the contrary, they alone are my property, and cannot be
taken away, and retaining them suffices me wherever I am or
whatever I do. " But it is now time to die." What is it that
you call dying ? 8 Do not talk of the thing in a tragedy strain,
but say, as the truth is, that it is time for a compound piece of
matter to be resolved back into its original. And where is the
terror of this ? What part of the world is going to be lost ?
What is going to happen new or prodigious? Is it for this
that a tyrant is formidable? Is it on this account that the
swords of his guards seem so large and sharp? Try these things
upon others. For my part I have examined the whole. No
one hath an authority over me. God hath made me free; I
know his commands; after this no one can enslave me. I have

234 The Discourses of Epictetus

a proper assertor of my freedom; proper judges. Is it not of
my body that you are the master? What is that to me, then?
Of that trifle, my estate? What is that to me, then? Is it
not of banishment and chains that you are the master? Why,
all these, again, and my whole body I give up to you: when-
ever you please make a trial of your power, and you will find
how far it extends.

4. Whom, then, can I any longer fear? Those who belong
to the bedchamber? Lest they should do what? Shut me
out? If they find me desirous to come in, let them. " Why
do you come to the door, then? " Because it is fitting for me
that while the play lasts, I should play too. " How, then, are
you incapable of being shut out? " Because if I am not ad-
mitted I would not wish to go in, but would much rather that
things should be as they are, for I esteem what God wills to be
better than what I will. 4 I give myself up, a servant and a
follower, to him. I pursue, I desire, in short, I will along with
him. Being shut out doth not relate to me, but to those who
push to get in. Why, then, do not I push too? Because I
know that there is not any good distributed there to those who
get in. But when I hear any one congratulated on the favour
of Caesar, I say, What hath he got? " A province. " 5 Hath
he then got such principles, too, as he ought to have? " A
public charge." Hath he then got with it the knowledge how
to use it too ? If not, why should I be thrust about any longer
to get in? Some one scatters nuts and figs. Children scramble
and quarrel for them, but not men, for they think them trifles.
But if any one should scatter shells, not even children would
scramble for these. Provinces are distributing. Let children
look to it. Money. Let children look to it. Military com-
mand, a consulship. Let children scramble for them. Let
these be shut out, be beat, kiss the hands of the giver, of his
slaves. But to me they are but mere figs and nuts. " What,
then, is to be done? " If you miss them, while he is throwing
them, do not trouble yourself about it; but if a fig should fall
into your lap, take it and eat it, for one may pay so much
regard even to a fig. But if I am to stoop and throw down
one, or be thrown down by another, and flatter those who are
got in, a fig is not worth this, nor any other of the things which
are not really good, and which the philosophers have per-
suaded me not to esteem as good.

5. Show me the swords of the guards. " See how big and
how sharp they are." What, then, do these great and sharp

Unmoved by Praise or Fear 235

swords do? "They kill." And what doth a fever do?
"Nothing else." And a tile ? " Nothing else." Would you
have me, then, be struck with an awful admiration of all these,
and worship them, and go about a slave to them all ? Heaven
forbid ! But, having once learnt that everything that is born
must likewise die (that the world may not be at a stand, or the
course of it hindered), I no longer make any difference whether
this be effected by a fever, or a tile, or a soldier; but, if any
comparison is to be made, I know that the soldier will effect it
with less pain and more speedily. Since, then, I neither fear
any of those things which he can inflict upon me, nor covet
anything which he can bestow, why do I stand any longer in
awe of a tyrant? Why am I struck with astonishment? Why
do I fear his guards? Why do I rejoice if he speaks kindly to
me and receives me graciously, and relate to others in what
manner he spoke to me? For is he Socrates or Diogenes that
his praise should show what I am ? Or have I set my heart on
imitating his manners? But, to keep up the play, I go to him
and serve him as long as he commands nothing unreasonable
or improper. But if he should say to me, " Go to Salamis and
bring Leo," 6 I answer him, Seek another, for I play no longer.
" Lead him away." I follow, in sport. " But your head
will be taken off." And will his own always remain on; or
yours, who obey him? " But you will be thrown out un-
buried." If I am the corpse, I shall be thrown out; but if I
am something else than the corpse, 7 speak more handsomely,
as the thing is, and do not think to fright me. These things are
frightful to children and fools. But if any one who hath once
entered into the school of a philosopher doth not know what
he himself is, he deserves to be frighted, and to flatter what he
lately flattered, if he hath not yet learnt that he is neither flesh
nor bones nor nerves, but that which makes use of these, and
regulates and comprehends the appearances of things.

6. " Well, but these reasonings make men despise the laws."
And what reasonings, then, render those who use them more
obedient to the laws ? But the law of fools is no law. And yet,
see how these reasonings render us properly disposed, even
towards such persons, since they teach us not to claim in opposi-
tion to them anything wherein they have it in their power to be
superior to us. They teach us to give up body, to give up
estate, children, parents, brothers, to yield everything, to let
go everything, excepting principles; which even Jupiter hath
excepted, and decreed to be every one's own property. What

236 The Discourses of Epictetus

unreasonableness, what breach of the laws, is there in this?
Where you are superior and stronger, there I give way to you.
Where, on the contrary, I am superior, do you submit to me;
for this hath been my study, and not yours. Your study hath
been to walk upon a mosaic floor, to be attended by your servants
and clients, to wear fine clothes, to have a great number of
hunters, fiddlers, and players. Do I lay any claim to these?
But on the other hand, have you, then, studied principles, or
even your own rational faculty? Do you know of what parts
it consists ? How they are connected, what are its articulations,
what powers it hath, and of what kind? Why, then, do you
take it amiss, if another who hath studied them hath the advan-
tage of you in these things? " But they are of all things the
greatest." Well, and who restrains you from being conversant
with them, and attending to them ever so carefully ? Or who is
better provided with books, with leisure, with assistants?
Only turn your thoughts now and then to these matters;
bestow but a little time upon your own ruling faculty. Con-
sider what it is you have, and whence it came, that uses all
other things, that examines them all, that chooses, that rejects.
But while you employ yourself about externals, you will have
those, indeed, such as no one else hath; but your ruling faculty
such as you like to have it, sordid and neglected.

CHAPTER VIII

CONCERNING SUCH AS HASTILY RUN INTO THE
PHILOSOPHIC DRESS

i. NEVER commend or censure any one lor common actions,
nor ascribe them either to skilfulness or unskilfulness, and thus
you will at once be free both from rashness and ill-nature.
Such a one bathes in a mighty little time. Doth he therefore
do it ill? Not at all. But what? In a mighty little time.
" Is everything well done, then? " By no means. But what is
done from good principles is well done; what from bad ones,
ill. But till you know from what principle any one acts, neither
commend nor censure the action. But the principle is not
easily judged of from the external appearances. Such a one is
a carpenter. Why? He uses an axe. What signifies that?

False Preconceptions 237

Such a one is a musician; for he sings. What signifies that?
Such a one is a philosopher. Why ? Because he wears a cloak
and long hair. What, then, do mountebanks wear? And so,
when people see any of these acting indecently, they presently
say, " See l what the philosopher doth." But they ought
rather, from his acting indecently, to say he is no philosopher.
For, if indeed the idea which we have of a philosopher and his
profession was to wear a cloak and long hair, they would say
right; but, if it be rather to keep himself free from faults, since
he doth not fulfil his profession, why do not they deprive him
of his title? For this is the way with regard to other arts.
When we see any one handle an axe awkwardly, we do not say,
" Where is the use of this art? See how ill carpenters perform."
But we say the very contrary, " This man is no carpenter, for
he handles an axe awkwardly." So, if we hear any one sing
badly, we do not say, " Observe how musicians sing," but
rather, " This fellow is no musician." It is with regard to
philosophy alone that people are thus affected. When they
see any one acting contrary to the profession of a philosopher,
they do not take away his title; but laying it down that he is a
philosopher, and then assuming from the very fact that he
behaves indecently, they infer that philosophy is of no use.

2. " What, then, is the reason of this? " Because we pay
some regard to the pre-conception which we have of a carpenter
and a musician and so of other artists, but not of a philosopher,
which being thus vague and confused, we judge of it only from
external appearances. And of what other art do we take up
our judgment from the dress and the hair? Hath it not
theorems too, and materials, and an end [to distinguish it]?
What, then, is the subject-matter of a philosopher? Is it a
cloak? No; but reason. What his end? To wear a cloak ?
No; but to have his reason correct. What are his theorems?
Are they how to get a great beard or long hair? No; but
rather, as Zeno expresses it, to know the elements of reason,
what each of them is in particular, and how they are adapted to
each other, and what are their consequences.

3. Why, then, will you not first see, whether by acting in an
unbecoming manner he answers his profession, and so proceed
to blame the study? Whereas, now, when you act soberly
yourself, you say, from what he appears to do amiss, " Observe
the philosopher ! " As if it was decent to call a person who doth
such things a philosopher. And again, " This is philosophical ! "
But you do not say, " Observe the carpenter, or observe the

*I4<>4

238 The Discourses of Epictetus

musician/' when you know one of them to be an adulterer, or
see him to be a glutton. So, in some small degree, even you
perceive what the profession of a philosopher is, but are misled
and confounded by your own carelessness. But indeed even
they who are called philosophers enter upon their profession by
things which are common to them with others. As soon as
they have put on a cloak and let their beard grow they cry, " I
am a philosopher." Yet no one says, " I am a musician/'
because he hath bought a fiddle and fiddlestick; nor, " I am a
smith/' because he is dressed in the Vulcanian cap and apron.
But they take their name from their art, not from their habit.

4. For this reason Euphrates was in the right to say, " I
long endeavoured to conceal my embracing the philosophic life,
and it was of use to me. For, in the first place, I knew that
what I did right I did it not for spectators, but for myself. I
ate in a proper manner for myself. I had a composed look and
walk, all for God and myself. Then, as I fought alone, I was
alone in danger. Philosophy was in no danger, on my doing
anything shameful or unbecoming; nor did I hurt the rest of
the world, which, by offending as a philosopher, I might have
done. For this reason, they who were ignorant of my intention
used to wonder, that while I conversed and lived entirely with
philosophers, I never took up the character. And where was the
harm, that I should be discovered to be a philosopher by my
actions and not by the usual badges? See how I eat, how I
drink, how I sleep, how I bear, how I forbear, how I assist
others, how I make use of my desires, how of my aversions, how
I preserve the natural and acquired relations, without confusion
and without impediment. Judge of me from hence if you can.
But, if you are so deaf and blind that you would not suppose
Vulcan himself to be a good smith unless you saw the cap upon
his head, where is the harm of not being found out by so foolish
a judge? "

5. It was thus too that Socrates concealed himself from the
generality ; and some even came and desired him to recommend
them to philosophers. Did he use to be displeased then, like
us, and say, What! do not you take me for a philosopher?
No; he took and recommended them, contented with only
being a philosopher, and rejoicing in not being vexed that he
was not thought one. For he remembered his business; and
what is the business of a wise and good man? To have many
scholars? By no means. Let those see to it who have made
this their study. Well, then, is it to be a perfect master of

Happiness and Tranquillity 239

difficult theorems ? Let others see to that too. In what then
was he, and did he desire to be, somebody? In what con-
stituted his hurt or advantage. " If," says he, " any one can
hurt me, I am doing nothing. If I depend for my advantage
upon another, I am nothing. Do I wish for anything, and it
doth not come to pass? I am unhappy." To such a combat
he invited every one, and in my opinion, yielded to no one. But
do you think it was by making proclamation, and saying, " I
am such a one"? Far from it; but by being such a one. For
this, again, is folly and insolence to say : "I am impassive and
undisturbed. Be it known to you, mortals, that while you are
fluctuating and bustling about for things of no value, I alone am
free from all perturbation." Are you then so far from being
contented with having no pain yourself, that you must needs
make proclamation: " Come hither, all you who have the gout,
or the headache, or a fever, or are lame, or blind, and see me
free from every distemper." This is vain and shocking, unless
you could show, like ^Esculapius, by what method of cure they
may presently become as free from distempers as yourself, and
bring your own health as a proof of it.

6. Such is the Cynic, honoured with the sceptre and diadem
from Jove ; who says, " That you may see, O mankind, that you
do not seek happiness and tranquillity where it is, but where it
is not, behold, I am sent an example to you from God, who have
neither estate nor house, 2 nor wife nor children, nor even a bed,
or coat, or furniture. And sec how healthy I am. Try me,
and, if you see me free from perturbation, hear the remedies,
and by what means I was cured." This now is benevolent and
noble. But consider whose business it is Jupiter's, or his
whom he judges worthy of this office; that he may never dis-
cover anything to the world by which he may invalidate his own
testimony, which he gives for virtue, and against externals.

" No sickly pale his beauteous features wear,
Nor from his cheek he wipes the languid tear."

HOMER.

And not only this, but he doth not desire or seek for company, or
place, or amusement, as boys do the vintage-time, or holidays ;
always fortified by virtuous shame, as others are by walls, and
gates, and sentinels.

7. But now they who have only such an inclination to philo-
sophy as bad stomachs have to some kinds of food, of which
they will presently grow sick, immediately run to the sceptre,
to the kingdom. They let grow their hair, assume the cloak, 1

240 The Discourses of Epictetus

bare the shoulder, wrangle with all they meet; and even, if
they see any one in a thick, warm coat, wrangle with him.
First harden yourself against all weather, man. Consider your
inclination, whether it be not that of a bad stomach, or of a
longing woman. First study to conceal what you are; philo-
sophise a little while by yourself. Fruit is produced thus.
The seed must first be buried in the ground, lie hid there some
time, and grow up by degrees, that it may come to perfection.
But, if it produces the ear before the stalk hath its proper
joints, it is imperfect, and of the garden of Adonis. 5 Now, you
are a poor plant of this kind. You have blossomed too soon,
the winter will kill you. See what countrymen say about seeds
of any sort, when the warm weather comes too early. They
are in great anxiety, for fear the seeds should shoot out too
luxuriantly; and then, one frost taking them, 5 shows how
prejudicial their forwardness was. Beware you too, man.
You have shot out luxuriantly, you have sprung forth towards
a trifling fame, before the proper season. You seem to be some-
body, as a fool may among fools. You will be taken by the
frost; or rather, you are already frozen downwards, at the
root; you still blossom indeed a little at the top, and therefore
you think you are still alive and flourishing. Let us, at least,
ripen naturally. Why do you lay us open ? Why do you force
us? We cannot yet bear the air. Suffer the root to grow;
then the first, then the second, then the third joint of the stalk
to spring from it; and thus 6 nature will force out the fruit,
whether I will or not. For who that is big with and full of such
principles doth not perceive too his own qualifications, and
exert his efforts to correspondent operations ? Not even a bull
is ignorant of his own qualifications, when any wild beast
approaches the herd, nor waits for any one to encourage him;
nor a dog, when he spies any game. And, if I have the quali
fications of a good man, shall I wait for you to qualify me for
my own proper operations ? But believe me, I have them not
yet. Why, then, would you wish me to be withered before my
time, as you are?

Immodesty 241

CHAPTER IX

CONCERNING A PERSON WHO WAS GROWN IMMODEST

1 i. WHEN you see another in power, set against it that you
have the advantage of not wanting power. When you see
another rich, see what you have instead of riches; for, if you
have nothing in their stead, you are miserable. But, if you
have the advantage of not needing riches, know that you have
something more than he hath, and of far greater value. Another
possesses a handsome woman; you, the happiness of not
desiring a handsome woman. Do you think these are little
matters? And what would those very persons, who are rich
and powerful and possess handsome women, give that they
were able to despise riches and power, and those very women
whom they love, and whom they acquire 1 Do not you know
of what nature the thirst of one in a fever is? It hath no
resemblance to that of a person in health. He drinks, and is
satisfied. But the other, after being delighted a very little
while, grows sick, turns the water into choler, throws it up, hath
pain in his bowels, and becomes more violently thirsty. Of
the same nature is it to have riches, or dominion, or enjoy a
fine woman, with fondness of any one of these things. Jealousy
takes place, fear of losing the beloved object, indecent dis-
courses, indecent designs, unbecoming actions.

2. "And what, say you, do I lose all the while? " You
were modest, man, and are so no longer. Have you lost
nothing ? Instead of Chrysippus and Zeno, you read Aristides 2
and Euenus. 3 Have you lost nothing, then? Instead of
Socrates and Diogenes, you admire him who can corrupt and
entice the most women. You set out your person, and would
be handsome when you are not. You love to appear in fine
clothes to attract the eyes of the women, and, if you anywhere
meet with a good perfumer, 4 you esteem yourself a happy man.
But formerly you did not so much as think of any of these
things, but only where you might find a decent discourse, a
worthy person, a noble design. For this reason, you used to
sleep like a man; to appear in public like a man; to wear a
manly dress; to hold discourses worthy of a man. And after
this, do you tell me you have lost nothing? What, then, do
men lose no tiling but money? Is not modesty to be lost? Is

242 The Discourses of Epictetus

not decency to be lost? Or may he who loses these suffer no
damage? You, indeed, perhaps no longer think anything of
this sort to be a damage. But there was once a time when
you accounted this to be the only damage and hurt; when you
were anxiously afraid lest any one should shake your regard
from these discourses and actions. See, it is not shaken by
another, but by yourself. Fight against yourself, recover
yourself to decency, to modesty, to freedom. If you had
formerly been told any of these things of me, that any one
prevailed on me to commit adultery, to wear such a dress as
yours, to be perfumed, would not you have gone and laid
violent hands on the man who thus abused me ? And will you
not now then help yourself? For how much easier is that
assistance? You need not kill or fetter or affront or go to law
with any one, but merely to talk with yourself, who will most
readily be persuaded by you, and with whom no one hath
greater credit than you. And, in the first place, condemn your
actions; but when you have condemned them, do not despair
of yourself, nor be like those poor-spirited people who, when
they have once given way, abandon themselves entirely, and
are carried along as by a torrent. Take example from the
wrestling masters. Hath the boy fallen down? Get up again,
they say; wrestle again till you have acquired strength. Be
you affected in the same manner. For, be assured that there is
nothing more tractable than the human mind. You need but
will, and it is done, it is set right ; as, on the contrary, you need
but nod over the work, and it is ruined. For both ruin and
recovery are from within.

3. " And, after all, what good will this do me? " 5 What
greater good do you seek? From impudent, you will become
modest; from indecent, decent; from dissolute, sober. If you
seek any greater things than these, go on as you do. It is no
longer in the power of any god to save you.

Concerning Externals 243

CHAPTER X

WHAT THINGS WE ARE TO DESPISE, AND ON WHAT TO
PLACE A DISTINGUISHED VALUE

i. THE doubts and perplexities of all men are concerning
externals. What they shall do? How it may be? What will
be the event? Whether this thing may happen, or that? All
this is the talk of persons engaged in things independent on
choice. For who says, How shall I do, not to assent to what is
false? How not to dissent from what is true? If any one is
of such a good disposition as to be anxious about these things, I
will remind him: Why are you anxious? It is in your own
power. Be assured. Do not rush upon assent before you have
applied the natural rule. Again, if 1 he be anxious, for fear
his desire should be ineffectual and disappointed or his aversion
incurred, I will first kiss him, because, slighting what others are
in a flutter and terrified about, he takes care of what is his own,
where his very being is; then I will say to him, If you would
not be disappointed of your desires, or incur your aversions,
desire nothing that belongs to others ; be averse to nothing not in
your own power, otherwise your desire must necessarily be dis-
appointed and your aversion incurred. Where is the doubt
here? Where the room for, How will it be? What will be the
event? And, will this happen, or that? Now, is not the event
independent on choice? " Yes." And doth not the essence
of good and evil consist in what depends on choice? " Yes."
It is in your power, then, to treat every event conformably to
nature? Can any one restrain you? "No one." Then do
not say to me any more, How will it be? For, however it be,
you will set it right, and the event to you will be lucky.

2. Pray, what would Hercules have been if he had said,
" What can be done to prevent a great lion or a great boar or
savage men from coming in my way? " Why, what is that to
you? If a great boar should come in your way, you will fight
the greater combat; if wicked men, you will deliver the world
from wicked men. " But, then, if I should die by this means? "
You will die a good man in the performance of a gallant
action. For since, at all events, one must die, one must neces-
sarily be found doing something, either tilling, or digging, or
trading, or serving a consulship, or sick of an indigestion or a

244 The Discourses of Epictetus

flux. At what employment, then, would you have death find
you ? For my part, I would have it be some humane, beneficent,
public-spirited, gallant action. But if I cannot be found doing
any such great things, yet, at least, I would be doing what I am
incapable of being restrained from, what is given me to do,
correcting myself, improving that faculty which makes use of the
appearances of things, to procure tranquillity, and render to
the several relations of life their due ; and, if I am so fortunate,
advancing to the third topic, a security of judging right. If
death overtakes me in such a situation, it is enough for me if I
can stretch out my hands to God and say, " The opportunities
which thou hast given me of comprehending and following [the
rules] of thy administration I have not neglected. As far as in
me lay, I have not dishonoured thee. See how I have used my
perceptions, how my pre-conceptions. Have I at any time
found fault with thee? Have I been discontented at thy dis-
pensations, or wished them otherwise? Have I transgressed
the relations of life? I thank thee that thou hast brought me
into being. I am satisfied with the time that I have enjoyed
the things which thou hast given me. Receive them back
again, and assign them to whatever place thou wilt; for they
were 2 all thine, and thou gavest them to me/'

3. Is it not enough to make one's exit in this state of mind?
And what life is better and more becoming than that of such a
one? Or what conclusion happier? But, in order to attain
these advantages, there are no inconsiderable things both to
be taken and lost. You cannot wish both for a consulship and
these too, nor take pains to get an estate and these too, or be
solicitous both about your servants and yourself. But, 3 if you
wish anything absolutely of what belongs to others, what is
you own is lost. This is the nature of the affair. Nothing is
to be had for nothing. And where is the wonder? If you
would be consul, you must watch, run about, kiss hands, be
wearied down with waiting at the doors of others, must say and
do many slavish things, send gifts to many, daily presents to
some. And what is the consequence [of success]? Twelve
bundles of rods, 4 to sit three or four times on the tribunal, to
give the Circensian games, and suppers 6 in baskets to all the
world ; or let any one show me what there is in it more than this.
Will you then be at no expense, no pains to acquire apathy,
tranquillity, to sleep sound while you do sleep, to be thoroughly
awake while you are awake, to fear nothing, to be anxious for
nothing? But if anything belonging to you be lost or idly

Concerning Externals 245

wasted while you are thus engaged, or another gets what you
ought to have had, will you immediately begin fretting at what
hath happened ? Will you not compare the exchange you have
made? How much for how much? But you would have such
great things for nothing, I suppose. And how can you? One
business doth not suit with another; you cannot bestow your
care both upon externals and your own ruling faculty. 6 But, if
you would have the former, let the latter alone, or you will
succeed in neither, while you are drawn different ways towards
both. On the other hand, if you would have the latter, let the
former alone. " The oil will be spilled, the furniture will be
spoiled "; but still I shall be free from passion. " There will
be a fire when I am not in the way, and the books will be
destroyed "; but still I shall treat the appearances of things
conformably to nature. " But I shall have nothing to eat."
If I am so unlucky, dying is a safe harbour. That is the harbour
for all, death; that is the refuge, and, for that reason, there is
nothing difficult in life. You may go out of doors when you
please, and be troubled with smoke no longer.

4. Why, then, are you anxious? Why do you keep your-
self waking? Why do not you calculate where your good and
evil lies; and say they are both in my own power, neither can
any deprive me of the one, or involve me, against my will, in
the other? Why, then, do not I lay myself down and snore?
What is my own is safe. Let what belongs to others look to
itself who carries it off, how it is given away by him that hath
the disposal of it. Who am I, to will that it should be so and
so ? For is the option given to me ? Hath any one made me the
dispenser of it? What I have in my own disposal is enough for
me. I must make the best I can of this. Other things must
be as the master of them pleases.

5. Doth any one who hath these things before his eyes lie
awake [like Achilles], and shift from side to side? What would
he have, or what doth he want? Patroclus, or Antilochus, 7 or
Menelaus? Why, did he ever think any one of his friends
immortal? Why, when had not he it before his eyes that the
morrow or the next day himself or that friend might die?
" Ay, very true/ 1 says he; " but I reckoned that he would
survive me, and bring up my son." 8 Because you were a fool,
and reckoned upon uncertainties. 9 Why, then, do not you
blame yourself, but sit crying like a girl? " But he used to set
my dinner before me." 10 Because he was alive, fool; but now
he cannot. But Automedon will set it before you; and, if he

246 The Discourses of Epictetus

should die, you will find somebody else. What if the pipkin
in which your meat used to be cooked should happen to be
broken, must you die with hunger because you have not your old
pipkin ? Do not you send and buy a new one ?

" What greater evil (says he) could afflict my breast ?"

Is this your evil, then? And, instead of removing it, do you
accuse your mother that she did not foretell it to you, that you
might have spent your whole life in grieving from that time
forward ?

6. Do not you think, now, that Homer composed all this on
purpose to show us that the noblest, the strongest, the richest,
the handsomest of men may nevertheless be the most unfor-
tunate and wretched, if they have not the principles they ought
to have ?

CHAPTER XI

OF PURITY AND CLEANLINESS

' i. SOME doubt whether sociableness be comprehended in the
nature of man; and yet these very persons do not seem to me
to doubt but that purity is by all means comprehended in it,
and that by this, if by anything, it is distinguished from brute
animals. When, therefore, we see any animal cleaning itself,
we are apt to cry with wonder, It is like a human creature. On
the contrary, if an animal is accused [of dirtiness], we are
presently apt to say, by way of excuse, that it is not a human
creature. Such excellence do we suppose to be in man, which
we first received from the gods. For, as they are by nature
pure and uncorrupt, in proportion as men approach to them by
reason, they are tenacious of purity and incorruption. But,
since it is impracticable that their essence, composed of such
materials, should be absolutely pure, it is the office of reason to
endeavour to render it as pure as possible.

2. The first and highest purity, or impurity, then, is that
which is formed in the soul. But you will not find the impurity
of the soul and body to be alike. For what else of impurity can
you find in the soul than that which renders it filthy with regard
to its operations? Now the operations of the soul are its pur-
suits and avoidances, its desires, aversions, preparations, inten-

Purity and Cleanliness 247

tions, assents. What, then, is that which renders it defiled and
impure in these operations? Nothing else than its perverse
judgments. So that the impurity of the soul consists in wicked
principles, and its purification in the forming right principles;
and that is pure which hath right principles, for that alone is
unmixed and undefiled in its operations.

3. Now we should, as far as possible, endeavour after some-
thing like this in the body too. It is impossible but in such a
composition as man there must be a defluxion of rheum. For
this reason, nature hath made hands, and the nostrils them-
selves as channels to let out the moisture. If any one therefore
snuffs it up again, I say that he performs not the operation of a
man. It was impossible but that the feet must be bemired and
soiled from what they pass through. Therefore nature hath
prepared water and hands. It was impossible but that some
filth must cleave to the teeth from eating. Therefore, she says,
wash your teeth. Why ? That you may be a man, and not a
wild beast or a swine. It was impossible but, from perspiration
and the pressure of the clothes, something dirty and necessary
to be cleaned should remain upon the body. For this there is
water, oil, hands, towels, brushes, soap, and other necessary
apparatus, for its purification. No; a smith indeed will get
the rust off his iron, and have proper instruments for that
purpose, and you yourself will have your plates washed before
you eat, unless you are quite dirty and slovenly, but you will
not wash nor purify your body. " Why should I? " (say you).
I tell you again in the first place, that you may be like a man;
and in the next, that you may not offend those with whom you
converse. * * * l Without being sensible of it, you do something
like this. Do you think you deserve to stink? Be it so. But
do those deserve to suffer by it who sit near you? Who are
placed at table with you ? Who salute you ? Either go into a
desert, as you deserve, or live solitary at home, and smell your-
self; for it is fit you should enjoy your nastiness alone. But to
what sort of character doth it belong to live in a city, and
behave as carelessly and inconsiderately? If nature had
trusted even a horse to your care, would you have overlooked
and neglected him? Now, consider your body as committed to
you instead of a horse. Wash 2 it, rub it, take care that it
may not be any one's aversion, nor disgust any one. Who is not
more disgusted at a stinking, unwholesome-looking sloven, than
at a person who hath been rolled in filth? The stench of the
one is adventitious from without, but that which arise, from

248 The Discourses of Epictetus

want of care is a kind of inward putrefaction. " But Socrates
bathed but seldom." But his person looked clean, and was so
agreeable and pleasing, that the most beautiful and noble youths
were fond of him, and desired rather to sit by him than by those
who had the finest persons. He might have omitted both bath-
ing and washing if he had pleased, and yet bathing so seldom
had its effect. " But Aristophanes calls him one of the squalid,
slip-shod philosophers." Why, so he says, too, that he walked
in the air, and stole clothes from the Palaestra. Besides, all
who have written of Socrates affirm quite the contrary, that he
was not only agreeable in his conversation, but in his person
too. And, again, they write the same of Diogenes. For we
ought not to fright the world from philosophy by the appearance
of our person, but to show ourselves cheerful and easy, by the
care of our persons, 3 as well as by other marks. " See, all of
you, that I have nothing, that I want nothing. Without house,
without city, and an exile (if that happens to be the case 4 ), and
without a home, I live more easily and prosperously than the
noble and rich. Look upon my person, too, that it is not injured
by coarse fare." But, if any one should tell me this, with the
habit and the visage of a condemned criminal, what god should
persuade me to come near philosophy while 5 it renders men
such figures? Heaven forbid! I would not do it, even if I
was sure to become a wise man for my pains. I declare, for
my own part, I would rather that a young man, on his first
inclination to philosophy, should come to me finically dressed,
than with his hair spoiled and dirty. For there appears in him
some idea of beauty, and desire of decency; and where he
imagines it to be, there he applies his endeavours. One hath
nothing more to do but to point it out to him and say, " You seek
beauty, young man, and you do well. Be assured, then, that
it springs from the rational part of you. Seek it there, where
the pursuits and avoidances, the desires and aversions, are con-
cerned. Herein consists your excellence, but the paltry body
is by nature clay. Why do you trouble yourself to no purpose
about it? You will be convinced by time, if not otherwise,
that it is nothing." But if he should come to me bemired,
dirty, with whiskers down to his knees, what can I say to him ?
By what similitude allure him? For what hath he studied
which hath any resemblance to beauty, that I may transfer
his attention, and say that beauty is not there, but here?
Would you have me tell him that beauty doth not consist in
filth, but in reason? For hath he any desire of beauty ? Hath

Neatness Void of Offence 249

he any appearance of it? Go, and argue with a hog not to roll
in the mire.

4. It was in the quality of a young man that loved beauty
that Polemo 6 was touched by the discourses of Xenocrates.
For he entered with some incentives to the study of beauty,
though he sought it in the wrong place. And indeed nature
hath not made the very brutes dirty which live with man.
Doth a horse wallow in the mire? Or a good dog? But
swine, and filthy geese, and worms, and spiders, which are
banished to the greatest distance from human society. Will you
then, who are a man, choose not to be even one of the animals
that are conversant with man, but rather a worm or a spider?
Will you not bathe sometimes, be it in whatever manner you
please? Will you never use water to wash yourself? Will
you not come clean, that they who converse with you may have
some pleasure in you? But will you accompany us, a mere
lump of nastiness, even to the temples, where it is not lawful
for any one so much as to spit, or blow his nose ?

5. What, then, would anybody have you dress yourself out
to the utmost? By no means, except in those things where
our nature requires it; in reason, principles, actions; but, in
our persons, only as far as neatness, as far as not to give
offence. But if you hear that it is not right to wear purple, you
must go, I suppose, and roll your cloak in the mud, or tear it.
" But where should I have a fine cloak? " You have water,
man; wash it. "What an amiable 7 youth is herel How
worthy this old man to love and be loved ! " A fit person to be
trusted with the instruction of our sons and daughters, and
attended by young people, as occasion may require to read
them lectures on a dunghill! Every deviation proceeds from
something human, but this approaches very nearly towards
being not human.

CHAPTER XI

OF ATTENTION

i. WHEN you let go your attention for a little while, do not
fancy you may recover it whenever you please; but remember
this, that by means of the fault of to-day your affairs must
necessarily be in a worse condition for the future. First, what

250 The Discourses of Epictetus

is the saddest thing of all, a habit arises of not attending; and
then a habit of deferring the attention, and always driving l
off from time to time, and procrastinating a prosperous life, a
propriety of behaviour, and the thinking and acting conform-
ably to nature. Now, if the procrastination of anything is
advantageous ; but, if it be not advantageous, why do not you
preserve a constant attention? " I would play to-day."
What then? Ought you not to do it, with proper attention to
yourself? " I would sing." Well, and what forbids but that
you may sing, with attention to yourself? For there is no part
of life exempted, to which attention doth not extend. For will
you do it the worse by attending, and the better by not attend-
ing ? What else in life is best performed by inattentive people ?
Doth a smith forge the better by not attending? Doth a pilot
steer the safer by not attending? Or is any other, even of the
minutest operations, performed the better by inattention?
Do not you perceive, that when you have let your mind loose,
it is no longer in your power to call it back, either to propriety
or modesty or moderation? But you do everything as it
happens; you follow your inclinations.

2. To what, then, am I to attend?

Why, in the first place, to those universal maxims which you
must always have at hand, and not sleep, or get up, or drink, or
eat, or converse without them: that no one is the master of
another's choice; and it is in choice alone that good and evil
consist. No one, therefore, is the master either to procure me
any good or to involve me in any evil; but I alone have the
disposal of myself with regard to these things. Since these,
then, are secured to me, what need have I to be troubled about
externals? What tyrant is formidable? What distemper?
What poverty? What offence? "I have not pleased such
a one." Is he my concern, then? Is he my conscience?
" No." Why do I trouble myself any further about him,
then? " But he is thought to be of some consequence." Let
him look to that, and they who think him so. But I have one
whom I must please, to whom I must submit, whom I must
obey : God, and those 2 who are next him. He hath intrusted
me with myself, and made my choice subject to myself alone,
having given me rules for the right use of it. If I follow the
proper rules in syllogisms, in convertible propositions, I do not
regard nor care for any one who says anything contrary to
them. Why, then, am I vexed at being censured in matters of
greater consequence? What is the reason of this perturbation?

Strive After Perfection 251

Nothing else but that in this instance I want exercise. For
every science despises ignorance and the ignorant; and not
only the sciences, but even the arts. Take any shoemaker, take
any smith you will, and he laughs at the rest of the world with
regard to his own business.

3. In the first place, then, these are the maxims we must
have ready, and do nothing without them; but direct the soul
to this mark, to pursue nothing external, nothing that belongs
to others, but as he who hath the power hath appointed.
Things dependent on choice are to be pursued always, and the
rest as it is permitted. Besides this, we must remember who we
are, and what name we bear, and endeavour to direct the
several offices of life to the rightful demands of its several
relations; what is the proper time for singing, what for play,
in what company; what will be the consequence of our
performance; whether our companions will despise us, or we
ourselves; when to employ raillery, and whom to ridicule;
upon what occasions to comply, and with whom; and then, in
complying, how to preserve our own character.

4. Wherever you deviate from any of these rules the
damage is immediate; not from any thing external, but from
the very action itself. " What, then, is it possible by these
means to be faultless? " Impracticable; but this is possible,
to use a constant endeavour to be faultless. For we shall have
cause to be satisfied if, by never remitting this attention, we
shall be exempt at least from a few faults. But now, when you
say, I will begin to attend to-morrow, be assured it is the same
thing as if you say, " I will be shameless, impertinent, base to-
day; it shall be in the power of others to grieve me; I will be
passionate, I will be envious to-day." See to how many evils
you give yourself up. " But all will be well to-morrow."
How much better to-day ? If it be for your interest to-morrow,
much more to-day, that it may be in your power to-morrow
too, and that you may not defer it again to the third day.

252 The Discourses of Epictetus
CHAPTER XIII

CONCERNING SUCH AS READILY DISCOVER THEIR OWN AFFAIRS

i. WHEN any one appears to us to discourse frankly of his own
affairs, we, too, are some way induced to discover our secrets
to him ; and we suppose this to be acting with frankness. First,
because it seems unfair that, when we have heard the affairs of
our neighbour, we should not, in return, communicate ours to
him; and, besides, we think that we shall not appear of a
frank character in concealing what belongs to ourselves.
Indeed it is often said, " I have told you all my affairs; and
will you tell me none of yours? Where do people act thus? "
Lastly, it is supposed that we may safely trust him who hath
already trusted us, for we imagine that he will never discover
our affairs for fear we, in our turn, should discover his. It is
thus that the inconsiderate are caught by the soldiers at Rome.
A soldier sits by you, in a common dress, and begins to speak
ill of Csesar. Then you, as if you had received a pledge of his
fidelity by his first beginning the abuse, say likewise what you
think; and so you are led away in chains to execution.

2. Something like this is the case with us in general. But
when one hath safely intrusted his secrets to me, shall I, in
imitation of him, trust mine to any one who comes in my way ?
The case is different. I indeed hold my tongue (supposing me
to be of such a disposition), but he goes and discovers them to
everybody; and then, when I come to find it out, if I happen
to be like him, from a desire of revenge I discover his, and
asperse, and am aspersed. But, if I remember that one man
doth not hurt another, but that every one is hurt and profited
by his own actions, I indeed keep to this, not to do anything
like him; yet, by my own talkative folly, I suffer what I do
suffer.

3. " Ay, but it is unfair, when you have heard the secrets
of your neighbour, not to communicate anything to him in
return." " Why, did I ask you to do it, sir? Did you tell me
your affairs upon condition that I should tell you mine in return?
If you are a blab, and believe all you meet to be friends, would
you have me, too, become like you? But what if the case be
this: that you did right in trusting your affairs to me, but it is
not right that I should trust you? Would you have me run

Prove Your Worthiness 253

headlong and fall? This is just as if I had a sound barrel and
you a leaky one, and you should come and deposit your wine
with me to put it into my barrel, and then should take it ill
that in my turn I did not trust you with my wine. No. You
have a leaky barrel. How, then, are we any longer upon equal
terms? You have deposited your affairs with an honest man,
and a man of honour; one who esteems his own actions alone,
and nothing external, to be either hurtful or profitable. Would
you have me deposit mine with you, a man who have dis-
honoured your own faculty of choice, and who would get a
paltry sum, or a post of power or preferment at court, even if,
for the sake of it, you were to kill your own children, like Medea ?
Where is the equality of this ? But show me that you are faith-
ful, a man of honour, steady; show me that you have friendly
principles ; show me that your vessel is not leaky, and you shall
see that I will not stay till you have trusted your affairs to me;
but I will come and entreat you to hear an account of mine.
For who would not make use of a good vessel? Who despises
a benevolent and friendly adviser? Who will not gladly
receive one to share the burden, as it were, of his difficulties;
and, by sharing, to make it lighter? " Well, but I trust you,
and you do not trust me." In the first place, you do not really
trust me; but you are a blab, and therefore can keep nothing
in. For, if the former be the case, trust only me. But now,
whomever you see at leisure, you sit down by him and say, " My
dear friend, there is not a man in the world that wishes me
better, or hath more kindness for me than you; I entreat you
to hear my affairs." And this you do to those with whom you
have not the least acquaintance. But, if you do really trust
me, it is plainly as [thinking me] a man of fidelity and honour,
and not because I have told you my affairs. Let me alone,
then, till I, too, am of this opinion [with regard to you]. Show
me that if a person hath told his affairs to any one it is a proof
of his being a man of fidelity and honour. For, if this was the
case, I would go about and tell my affairs to the whole world, if,
upon that account, I should become a man of fidelity and honour.
But that is no such matter, but requires a person to have no
ordinary principles.

4. If, then, you see any one taking pains for things that
belong to others, and subjecting his choice to them, be assured
that this man hath a thousand things to compel and restrain
him. He hath no need of burning pitch, or the torturing wheel,
to make him tell what he knows; but the nod of a girl, for

254 The Discourses of Epictetus

instance, will shake his purpose; the goodwill of a courtier, the
desire of a public post, of an inheritance; ten thousand other
things of that sort. It must therefore be remembered in general,
that secret discourses require fidelity and a certain sort of prin-
ciples. And where, at this time, are these easily to be found?
Pray, let any one show me a person of such a disposition as to
say, I trouble myself only with those things which are my own,
incapable of restraint, by nature free. This I esteem the
essence of good. Let the rest be as it may happen. It makes
no difference to me.

END OF THE DISCOURSES

THE ENCHIRIDION, OR MANUAL,
OF EPICTETUS

OF things, some are in our power and others not. In our power
are opinion, pursuit, desire, aversion, and, in one word, whatever
are our own actions. Not in our power are body, property,
reputation, command, and, in one word, whatever are not our
own actions.

Now, the things in our power are by nature free, unrestrained,
unhindered; but those not in our power, weak, slavish, re-
strained, belonging to others. Remember, then, that if you
suppose things by nature slavish to be free, and what belongs
to others your own, you will be hindered ; you will lament ; you
will be disturbed ; you will find fault both with gods and men.
But if you suppose that only to be your own which is your own,
and what belongs to others such as it really is, no one will ever
compel you; no one will restrain you; you will find fault with
no one; you will accuse no one; you will do no one thing
against your will ; no one will hurt you ; you will not have an
enemy, for you will suffer no harm.

Aiming therefore at such great things, remember that you
must not allow yourself to be carried, even with a slight tendency,
towards the attainment of the others : l but that you must
entirely quit some of them and for the present postpone the
rest. But if you would both have these and command and
riches at once, perhaps you will not gain so much as the latter,
because you aim at the former too : but you will absolutely fail
of the former, by which alone happiness and freedom are pro-
cured.

Study therefore to be able to say to every harsh appearance,
" You are but an appearance, and not absolutely the thing you
appear to be." And then examine it by those rules which you
have, and first, and chiefly, by this: whether it concerns the
things which are in our own power, or those which are not; and,
if it concerns anything not in our power, be prepared to say that
it is nothing to you.

2CC

256 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

ii

Remember that desire promises the attainment of that of
which you are desirous; and aversion promises the avoiding of
that to which you are averse; that he who fails of the object of
his desire is disappointed, and he who incurs the object of his
aversion wretched. If, then, you confine your aversion to those
objects only which are contrary to the natural use of your
faculties, which you have in your own power, you will never
incur anything to which you are averse. But if you are averse
to sickness, or death, or poverty, you will be wretched. Remove
aversion, then, from all things that are not in our power, and
transfer it to things contrary to the nature of what is in our
power. But, for the present, totally suppress desire : for, if you
desire any of the things not in our own power, you must neces-
sarily be disappointed; and of those which are, and which it
would be laudable to desire, nothing is yet in your possession. 2
Use only [the requisite acts] of pursuit and avoidance; and even
these lightly, and with gentleness and reservation.

in

With regard to whatever objects either delight the mind, or
contribute to use, or are loved with fond affection, remember
to tell yourself of what nature they are, beginning from the
most trifling things. If you are fond of an earthen cup, that
it is an earthen cup of which you are fond; for thus, if it is
broken, you will not be disturbed. If you kiss your child, or
your wife, that you kiss a being subject to the accidents of
humanity; and thus you will not be disturbed if either of them
dies.

IV

When you are going about any action, remind yourself of
what nature the action is. If you are going to bathe, represent
to yourself the things which usually happen in the bath: some
persons dashing the water; some pushing and crowding; others
giving abusive language; and others stealing. And thus you
will more safely go about this action if you say to yourself, " I
will now go bathe, and preserve my own mind in a state con-

Ready for the Captain's Call 257

formable to nature." And in the same manner with regard to
every other action. For thus, if any impediment arises in
bathing, you will have it ready to say, " It was not only to
bathe that I desired, but to preserve my mind in a state con-
formable to nature; and I shall not preserve it so if I am out of
humour at things that happen. "

Men are disturbed, not by things, but by the principles and
notions which they form concerning things. Death, for instance,
is not terrible, else it would have appeared so to Socrates. But
the terror consists in our notion of death that it is terrible.
When therefore we are hindered, or disturbed, or grieved, let us
never impute it to others, but to ourselves ; that is, to our own
principles. It is the action of an uninstructed person to lay
the fault of his own bad condition upon others ; of one entering
upon instruction to lay the fault on himself; and of one per-
fectly instructed, neither on others nor on himself.

VI

Be not elated on any excellence not your own. If a horse
should be elated and say, " I am handsome," it would be sup-
portable. But when you are elated, and say, " I have a hand-
some horse," know that you are elated on what is, in fact, only
the good of the horse. 3 What, then, is your own? The use of
the appearances of things. So that when you behave con-
formably to nature in the use of these appearances, you will
be elated with reason; for you will be elated on some good of
your own.

VII

As in a voyage, when the ship is at anchor, if you go on shore
to get water you may amuse yourself with picking up a shell-
fish, or an onion, in your way, but your thoughts ought to be
bent towards the ship, and perpetually attentive lest the captain
should call, and then you must leave all these things, that you
may not be thrown into the vessel, bound neck and heels like
a sheep: thus likewise in life, if, instead of an onion or a shell-

258 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

fish, such a thing as a wife or a child be granted you, there is no
objection; but if the captain calls, run to the ship, leave all
these things, regard none of them. But if you are old, never go
far from the ship: lest, when you are called, you should be
unable to come in time.

VIII

Require not things to happen as you wish, but wish them to
happen as they do happen, and you will go on well.

IX

Sickness is an impediment to the body, but not to the faculty
of choice, unless itself pleases. Lameness is an impediment to
the leg, but not to the faculty of choice : and say this to yourself
with regard to everything that happens. For you will find it
to be an impediment to something else, but not to yourself.

Upon every accident, remember to turn towards yourself and
inquire what powers you have for making a proper use of it.
If you see a handsome person, you will find continence a power
against this : if pain be presented to you, you will find fortitude :
if ill language, you will find patience. And thus habituated,
the appearances of things will not hurry you away along with
them.

XI

Never say of anything, "I have lost it"; but, "I have
restored it." Is your child dead? It is restored. Is your
wife dead? She is restored. Is your estate taken away?
Well, and is not that likewise restored? " But he who took it
away is a bad man." What is it to you by whose hands he, who
gave it, hath demanded it back again ? While he gives you to
possess it, take care of it; but as of something not your own, as
passengers do of an inn.

The Price of Tranquillity 259

XII

If you would improve, lay aside such reasonings as these:
" If I neglect my affairs, I shall not have a maintenance; if I
do not correct my servant, he will be good for nothing." For
it is better to die with hunger, exempt from grief and fear, than
to live in affluence with perturbation; and it is better your
servant should be bad, than you unhappy.

Begin therefore from little things. Is a little oil spilt? A
little wine stolen? Say to yourself, " This is the purchase paid
for apathy, for tranquillity, and nothing is to be had for nothing."
And when you call your servant, consider it is possible he may
not come to your call; or, if he doth, that he may not do what
you would have him do. But he is by no means of such im-
portance 4 that it should be in his power to give you any dis-
turbance.

XIII

5 If you would improve, be content to be thought foolish and
stupid with regard to externals. Do not wish to be thought to
know anything; and though you should appear to be somebody
to others, distrust yourself. For, be assured, it is not easy at
once to preserve your faculty of choice in a state conformable
to nature, and [to secure] externals; but while you are careful
about the one, you must of necessity neglect the other.

XIV

If you wish your children, and your wife, and your friends
to live for ever, you are stupid; for you wish things to be in
your power which are not so, and what belongs to others to be
your own. So likewise, if you wish your servant to be without
fault, you are a fool ; for you wish vice not to be vice, 6 but some-
thing else. But, if you wish to have your desires undisappointed,
tiras is in your own power. Exercise, therefore, what is in your
power. He is the master of every other person who is able to
confer or remove whatever that person wishes either to have
or to avoid. Whoever, then, would be free, let him wish
nothing, let him decline nothing, which depends on others else
he must necessarily be a slave.

260 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

XV

Remember that you must behave [in life] as at an entertain-
ment. 7 Is anything brought round to you? Put out your
hand and take your share with moderatipn. Doth it pass by
you? Do not stop it. Is it not yet come? Do not stretch
forth your desire towards it, but wait till it reaches you. Thus
do with regard to children, to a wife, to public posts, to riches,
and you will be some time or other a worthy partner of the
feasts of the gods. And if you do *ict so much as take the
things which are set before you, but are able even to despise
them, then you will not only be a partner of the feasts of the
gods, but of their empire also. For, by thus doing, Diogenes
and Heraclitus, 8 and others like them, deservedly became, and
were called, divine.

XVI

When you see any one weeping for grief, either that his son
is gone abroad, or dead, or that he hath suffered in his affairs,
take heed that the appearance may not hurry you away with
it. But immediately make the distinction within your own
mind, and have it ready to say, " It is not the accident that
distresses this person, for it doth not distress another man;
but the judgment which he forms concerning it." As far as
words go, however, do not disdain to condescend to him, and
even, if it should so happen, to groan with him. Take heed,
however, not to groan inwardly too.

XVII

Remember that you are an actor in a drama, of such a kind as
the author pleases to make it. If short, of a short one; if long,
of a long one. If it be his pleasure you should act a poor man,
a cripple, a governor, or a private person, see that you act it
naturally. For this is your business, to act well the character
assigned you; to choose it is another's.

xviu

When a raven happens to croak unluckily, let not the appear-
ance hurry you away with it, but immediately make the dis-

Desire to be Free 261

tinction to yourself, and say, " None of these things is portended
to me ; but either to my paltry body, or property, or reputation,
or children, or wife. But to me all portents are lucky, if I will.
For whichever of these things happens, it is in my power to
derive advantage from it."

XIX

You may be unconquerable, if you enter into no combat in
which it is not in your own power to conquer. When, therefore,
you see any one eminent in honours, or power, or in high esteem
on any other account, take heed not to be hurried away with
the appearance, and to pronounce him happy ; for, if the essence
of good consists in things in our own power, there will be no
room for envy or emulation. But, for your part, do not wish to
be a general, or a senator, or a consul, but to be free; and the
only way to this is a contempt of things not in our own power.

xx

Remember, that not he who gives ill language or a blow
affronts, but the principle which represents these things as
affronting. When, therefore, any one provokes you, be assured
that it is your own opinion which provokes you. Try, there-
fore, in the first place, not to be hurried away with the appear-
ance. For if you once gain time and respite, you will more
easily command yourself.

XXI

Let death and exile, and all other things which appear terrible
be daily before your eyes, but chiefly death, and you will never
entertain any abject thought, nor too eagerly covet anything.

XXII

If you have an earnest desire of attaining to philosophy,
prepare yourself from the very first to be laughed at, to be
sneered by the multitude, to hear them say, " He is returned to
us a philosopher all at once," and " Whence this supercilious

262 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

look? " Now, for your part, do not have a supercilious look
indeed ; but keep steadily to those things which appear best to
you as one appointed by God to this station. For remember
that, if you adhere to the same point, those very persons who
at first ridiculed will afterwards admire you. But if you are
conquered by them, you will incur a double ridicule.

XXIII

If you ever happen to turn your attention to externals, so as
to wish to please any one, be assured that you have ruined your
scheme of life. 9 Be contented, then, in everything with being a
philosopher; and, if you wish to be thought so likewise by any
one, appear so to yourself, and it will suffice you.

XXIV

Let not such considerations as these distress you. " I shall
live in dishonour, and be nobody anywhere." For, if dishonour
is an evil, you can no more be involved in any evil by the means
of another, than be engaged in anything base. Is it any
business of yours, then, to get power, or to be admitted to an
entertainment? By no means. How, then, after all, is this a
dishonour? And how is it true that you will be nobody any-
where, when you ought to be somebody in those things only
which are in your own power, in which you may be of the greatest
consequence? " But my friends will be unassisted." What
do you mean by unassisted? They will not have money from
you, nor will you make them Roman citizens. Who told you,
then, that these are among the things in our own power, and
not the affair of others? And who can give to another the
things which he hath not himself? " Well, but get them, then,
that we too may have a share." If I can get them with the
preservation of my own honour and fidelity and greatness of
mind, show me the way and I will get them ; but if you require
me to lose my own proper good that you may gain what is no
good, consider how unequitable and foolish you are. Besides,
which would you rather have, a sum of money, or a friend of
fidelity and honour? Rather assist me, then, to gain this
character than require me to do those things by which I may
lose it. Well, but my country, say you, as far as depends on

The Price of Princely Favours 263

me, will be unassisted. Here again, what assistance is this you
mean? " It will not have porticoes nor baths of your pro-
viding." And what signifies that? Why, neither doth a
smith provide it with shoes, or a shoemaker with arms. It is
enough if every one fully performs his own proper business.
And were you to supply it with another citizen of honour and
fidelity, would not 10 he be of use to it? Yes. Therefore
neither are you yourself useless to it. " What place, then, say
you, shall I hold in the state? " Whatever you can hold with
the preservation of your fidelity and honour. But if, by
desiring to be useful to that, you lose these, of what use can
you be to your country when you are become faithless and
void of shame?

xxv

Is any one preferred before you at an entertainment, or in a
compliment, or in being admitted to a consultation? If these
things are good, you ought to rejoice that he hath got them;
and if they are evil, do not be grieved that you have not got
them. And remember that you cannot, without using the
same means [which others do] to acquire things not in our
own power, expect to be thought worthy of an equal share of
them. For how can he who doth not frequent the door of any
[great] man, doth not attend him, doth not praise him, have
an equal share with him who doth? You are unjust, then, and
unsatiable, if you are unwilling to pay the price for which
these things are sold, and would have them for nothing. For
how much are lettuces sold? A halfpenny, for instance. If
another, then, paying a halfpenny, takes the lettuces, and you,
not paying it, go without them, do not imagine that he hath
gained any advantage over you. For as he hath the lettuces,
so you have the halfpenny which you did not give. So, in the
present case, you have not been invited to such a person's
entertainment, because you have not paid him the price for
which a supper is sold. It is sold for praise; it is sold for
attendance. Give him then the value, if it be for your advan-
tage. But if you would, at the same time, not pay the one
and yet receive the other, you are unsatiable, and a blockhead.
Have you nothing, then, instead of the supper? Yes, indeed,
you have: the not praising him, whom you do not like to
praise; the not bearing with his behaviour at coming in. 11

264 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

XXVI

The will of nature may be learned from those things in which
we do not differ from each other. As, when our neighbour's
boy hath broken a cup, or the like, we are presently ready to
say, " These are things that will happen." Be assured, then,
that when your own cup likewise is broken, you ought to be
affected just as when another's cup was broken. Transfer this,
in like manner, to greater things. Is the child or wife of another
dead? There is no one who would not say, " This is a human
accident." But if any one's own child happens to die, it is
presently, " Alas 1 how wretched am I ! " But it should be
remembered how we are affected in hearing the same thing
concerning others.

XXVII

As a mark 12 is not set up for the sake of missing the aim, so
neither doth the nature of evil exist in the world.

XXVIII

If a person had delivered up your body to any one whom
he met in his way, you would certainly be angry. And do you
feel no shame in delivering up your own mind to be discon-
certed and confounded by any one who happens to give you
ill language?

xxix 13
[DISCOURSES, in. xv.]

xxx

Duties are universally measured by relations. Is any one
a father? In this are implied, as due, taking care of him, sub-
mitting to him in all things, patiently receiving his reproaches,
his correction. But he is a bad father. Is your natural tie
then to a good father? No; but to a father. Is a brother

Obey and Trust the Gods 265

unjust? Well, preserve your own situation towards him.
Consider not what he doth, but what you are to do to keep your
own faculty of choice in a state conformable to nature. For
another will not hurt you unless you please. You will then be
hurt when you think you are hurt. In this manner, therefore,
you will find, from the idea of a neighbour, a citizen, a general,
the corresponding duties if you accustom yourself to contem-
plate the several relations.

XXXI

Be assured that the essential property of piety towards the
gods is to form right opinions concerning them, as existing 14
and as governing the universe with goodness and justice. And
fix yourself in this resolution, to obey them, and yield to them,
and willingly follow them in all events, as produced by the
most perfect understanding. For thus you will never find fault
with the gods, nor accuse them as neglecting you. And it is
not possible for this to be effected any other way 15 than by
withdrawing yourself from things not in our own power, and
placing good or evil in those only which are. For if you suppose
any of the things not in our own power to be either good or evil,
when you are disappointed of what you wish, or incur what
you would avoid, you must necessarily find fault with and
blame the authors. For every animal is naturally formed to
fly and abhor things that appear hurtful, and the causes of them;
and to pursue and admire those which appear beneficial, and
the causes of them. It is impracticable, then, that one who
supposes himself to be hurt should rejoice in the person who,
he thinks, hurts him, just as it is impossible to rejoice in the hurt
itself. Hence, also, a father is reviled by a son, when he doth
not impart to him the things which he takes to be good; and
the supposing empire to be a good made Polynices and Eteocles
mutually enemies. On this account the husbandman, the
sailor, the merchant, on this account those who lose wives and
children, revile the gods. For where interest is, there too is
piety placed. So that, whoever is careful to regulate his desires
and aversions as he ought, is, by the very same means, careful
of piety likewise. But it is also incumbent on every one to
offer libations and sacrifices and first fruits, conformably to the
customs of his country, with purity, and not in a slovenly
manner, nor negligently, nor sparingly, nor beyond his ability.

266 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

XXXII

When you have recourse to divination, remember that you
know not what the event will be, and you come to learn it of
the diviner; but of what nature it is you know before you come,
at least if you are a philosopher. For if it is among the things
not in our own power, it can by no means be either good or evil.
Do not, therefore, bring either desire or aversion with you to the
diviner (else you will approach him trembling), but first acquire
a distinct knowledge that every event is indifferent and nothing
to you, of whatever sort it may be, for it will be in your power
to make a right use of it, and this no one can hinder; then come
with confidence to the gods, as your counsellors, and afterwards,
when any counsel is given you, remember what counsellors you
have assumed, and whose advice you will neglect if you disobey.
Come to divination, as Socrates prescribed, in cases of which
the whole consideration relates to the event, and in which no
opportunities are afforded by reason, or any other art, to dis-
cover the thing proposed to be learned. When, therefore, it is
our duty to share the danger of a friend or of our country, we
ought not to consult the oracle whether we shall share it with
them or not. For, though the diviner should forewarn you that
the victims are unfavourable, this means no more than that
either death or mutilation or exile is portended. But we have
reason within us, and it directs, even with these hazards, to
stand by our friend and our country. Attend, therefore, to
the greater diviner, the Pythian god, who cast out of the temple
the person who gave no assistance to his friend while another
was murdering him.

XXXIII

Immediately prescribe some character and form [of be-
haviour] to yourself, which you may preserve both alone and
in company.

Be for the most part silent, or speak merely what is necessary,
and in few words. We may, however, enter, though sparingly,
into discourse sometimes when occasion calls for it, but not on
any of the common subjects, of gladiators, or horse races, or
athletic champions, or feasts, the vulgar topics of conversation ;
but principally not of men, so as either to blame, or praise, or
make comparisons. If you are able, then, by your own con-

Speak to the Purpose 267

versation bring over that of your company to proper subjects;
but, if you happen to be taken among strangers, be silent.

Let not your laughter be much, nor on many occasions, nor
profuse. 18

Avoid swearing, if possible, altogether; if not, as far as you
are able.

Avoid public and vulgar entertainments; but, if ever an
occasion calls you to them, keep your attention upon the stretch,
that you may not imperceptibly slide into vulgar manners.
For be assured that if a person be ever so sound himself, yet,
if his companion be infected, he who converses with him will be
infected likewise.

Provide things relating to the body no further than mere use ;
as meat, drink, clothing, house, family. But strike off and
reject everything relating to show and delicacy.

As far as possible, before marriage, preserve yourself pure
from familiarities with women, and, if you indulge them, let it
be lawfully. 17 But do not therefore be troublesome and full of
reproofs to those who use these liberties, nor frequently boast
that you yourself do not.

If any one tells you that such a person speaks ill of you, do
not make excuses about what is said of you, but answer: " He
doth not know my other faults, else he would not have men-
tioned only these.' 7

It is not necessary for you to appear often at public spectacles ;
but if ever there is a proper occasion for you to be there, do not
appear more solicitous for any one than for yourself; that is,
wish things to be only just as they are, and him only to conquer
who is the conqueror, for thus you will meet with no hindrance.
But abstain entirely from acclamations and derision and violent
emotions. And when you come away, do not discourse a
great deal on what hath passed, and what doth not contribute
to your own amendment. For it would appear by such dis-
course that you were immoderately struck with the show.

Go not [of your own accord] to the rehearsals of any [authors],
nor appear [at them] readily. But, if you do appear, preserve
your gravity and sedateness, and at the same time avoid being
morose.

When you are going to confer with any one, and particularly
of those in a superior station, represent to yourself how Socrates
or Zeno would behave in such a case, and you will not be at a
loss to make a proper use of whatever may occur.

When you are going to any of the people in power, represent

268 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

to yourself that you will not find him at home; that you will
not be admitted; that the doors will not be opened to you;
that he will take no notice of you. If, with all this, it be your
duty to go, bear what happens, and never say [to yourself], " It
was not worth so much." For this is vulgar, and like a man
disconcerted by externals. 18

In parties of conversation, avoid a frequent and excessive
mention of your own actions and dangers. For, however agree-
able it may be to yourself to mention the risks you have run,
it is not equally agreeable to others to hear your adventures.
Avoid, likewise, an endeavour to excite laughter. For this is a
slippery point, which may throw you into vulgar manners, and,
besides, may be apt to lessen you in the esteem of your acquaint-
ance. Approaches to indecent discourse are likewise dangerous.
Whenever, therefore, anything of this sort happens, if there be
a proper opportunity, rebuke him who makes advances that
way ; or, at least, by silence and blushing and a forbidding look,
show yourself to be displeased by such talk.

xxxiv

If you are struck by the appearance of any promised pleasure,
guard yourself against being hurried away by it; but let the
affair wait your leisure, and procure yourself some delay. Then
bring to your mind both points of time: that in which you shall
enjoy the pleasure, and that in which you will repent and re-
proach yourself after you have enjoyed it; and set before you,
in opposition to these, how you will rejoice and applaud your-
self if you abstain. And even though it should appear to you
a seasonable gratification, take heed that its enticing, and agree-
able and attractive force may not subdue you; but set in
opposition to this how much better it is to be conscious of
having gained so great a victory.

XXXV

When you do anything from a clear judgment that it ought
to be done, never shun the being seen to do it, even though the
world should make a wrong supposition about it; for, if you
do not act right, shun the action itself; but, if you do, why are
you afraid of those who censure you wrongly ?

What is Due to Others 269

XXXVI

As the proposition, Either it is day or it is night, is extremely
proper for a disjunctive argument, but quite improper in a con-
junctive one, 19 so, at a feast, to choose the largest share is very
suitable to the bodily appetite, but utterly inconsistent with
the social spirit of an entertainment. When you eat with
another, then, remember not only the value of those things
which are set before you to the body, but the value of that
behaviour which ought to be observed towards the person who
gives the entertainment.

XXXVII

If you have assumed any character above your strength, you
have both made an ill figure in that and quitted one wliich you
might have supported.

XXXVIII

As, in walking, you take care not to tread upon a nail or turn
your foot, so likewise take care not to hurt the ruling faculty of
your mind. And, if we were to guard against this in every
action, we should undertake the action with the greater safety.

XXXIX

The body is to every one the measure of the possessions proper
for it, as the foot is of the shoe. If, therefore, you stop at this,
you will keep the measure; but if you move beyond it, you must
necessarily be carried forward, as down a precipice; as in the
case of a shoe, if you go beyond its fitness to the foot, it comes
first to be gilded, then purple, 20 and then studded with jewels.
For to that which once exceeds a due measure, there is no
bound.

XL

Women from fourteen years old are flattered with the title
of " mistresses " by the men. Therefore, perceiving that they

270 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

are regarded only as qualified to give the men pleasure, they
begin to adorn themselves, and in that to place all their hopes.
It is worth while, therefore, to fix our attention on making them
sensible that they are esteemed for nothing else but the appear-
ance of a decent and modest and discreet behaviour. 21

XLI

It is a mark of want of genius to spend much time in things
relating to the body, as to be long in our exercises, in eating
and drinking, and in the discharge of other animal functions.
These should be done incidentally and slightly, and our whole
attention be engaged in the care of the understanding.

XLII

When any person doth ill by you, or speaks ill of you, re-
member that he acts or speaks from a supposition of its being
his duty. Now, it is not possible that he should follow what
appears right to you, but what appears so to himself. There-
fore, if he judges from a wrong appearance, he is the person hurt,
since he too is the person deceived. For if any one should
suppose a true proposition to be false, the proposition is not hurt,
but he who is deceived about it. Setting out, then, from these
principles, you will meekly bear a person who reviles you, for
you will say upon every occasion, " It seemed so to him."

XLIII

Everything hath two handles, the one by which it may be
borne, the other by which it cannot. If your brother acts
unjustly, do not lay hold on the action by the handle of his
injustice, for by that it cannot be borne; but by the opposite,
that he is your brother, that he was brought up with you; and
thus you will lay hold on it, as it is t0 be borne.

XLIV

These reasonings are unconnected: '* I am richer than you,
therefore I am better"; "I am more eloquent than you,

Show Your Fruits 271

therefore I am better." The connection is rather this: " I am
richer than you, therefore my property is greater than yours ";
" I am more eloquent than you, therefore my style is better
than yours." But you, after all, are neither property nor style.

XLV

Doth any one bathe 22 in a mighty little time ? Do not say
that he doth it ill, but in a mighty little time. Doth any one
drink a great quantity of wine? Do not say that he doth ill,
but that he drinks a great quantity. For, unless you perfectly
understand the principle [from which any one acts], how should
you know if he acts ill ? Thus you will not run the hazard of
assenting to any appearances but such as you fully comprehend.

XLVI

Never call yourself a philosopher, nor talk a great deal among
the unlearned about theorems, but act conformably to them.
Thus, at an entertainment, do not talk how persons ought to
eat, but eat as you ought. For remember that in this manner
Socrates also universally avoided all ostentation. And when
persons came to him and desired to be recommended by him to
philosophers, he took and recommended them, so well did he
bear being overlooked. So that if ever any talk should happen
among the unlearned concerning philosophic theorems, be you,
for the most part, silent. For there is great danger in imme-
diately throwing out what you have not digested. And, if any
one tells you that you know nothing, and you are not nettled
at it, then you may be sure that you have begun your business.
For sheep do not throw up the grass to show the shepherds how
much they have eaten; but, inwardly digesting their food, they
outwardly produce wool and milk. Thus, therefore, do you
likewise not show theorems to the unlearned, but the actions
produced by them after they have been digested.

XLVII

When you have brought yourself to supply the necessities of
your body at a small price, do not pique yourself upon it; nor,

272 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

if you drink water, be saying upon every occasion, " I drink
water." But first consider how much more sparing and patient
of hardship the poor are than we. But if at any time you
would inure yourself by exercise to labour, and bearing hard
trials, do it for your own sake, and not for the world; do not
grasp ^ statues, but, when you are violently thirsty, take a
little cold water in your mouth, and spurt it out and tell nobody.

XLVIII

The condition and characteristic of a vulgar person, is,
that he never expects either benefit or hurt from himself, but
from externals. The condition and characteristic of a philo-
sopher is, that he expects all hurt and benefit from himself.
The marks of a proficient are, that he censures no one, praises
no one, blames no one, accuses no one, says nothing concerning
himself as being anybody, or knowing anything: when he is,
in any instance, hindered or restrained, he accuses himself;
and, if he is praised, he secretly laughs at the person who
praises him; and, if he is censured, he makes no defence. But
he goes about with the caution of infirm people [after sickness
or an accident], dreading to move anything that is set right,
before it is perfectly fixed. He suppresses M all desire in him-
self ; he transfers his aversion to those things only which thwart
the proper use of our own faculty of choice ; the exertion of his
active powers towards anything is very gentle; if he appears
stupid or ignorant, he doth not care, and, in a word, he watches
himself as an enemy, and one in ambush.

XLIX

When any one shows himself vain on being able to under-
stand and interpret the works of Chrysippus, say to yourself,
" Unless Chrysippus had written obscurely, this person would
have had no subject for his vanity. But what do I desire? To
understand nature and follow her. I ask, then, who interprets
her, and, finding Chrysippus doth, I have recourse to him. I
do not understand his writings. I seek, therefore, one to inter-
pret them." So far there is nothing to value myself upon.
And when I find an interpreter, what remains is to make use of
his instructions. This alone is the valuable thing. But, if I

Principles as Inviolable Laws 273

admire nothing but merely the interpretation, what do I
become more than a grammarian instead of a philosopher?
Except, indeed, that instead of Homer I interpret Chrysippus.
When any one, therefore, desires me to read Chrysippus to him,
I rather blush when I cannot show my actions agreeable and
consonant to his discourse.

Whatever rules you have deliberately proposed to yourself
[for the conduct of life], abide by them as so many laws, and as
if you would be guilty of impiety in transgressing any of them;
and do not regard what any one says of you, for this, after all,
is no concern of yours. How long, then, will you defer to think
yourself worthy of the noblest improvements, and in no instance
to transgress the distinctions of reason? You have received
the philosophic theorems, with which you ought to be conversant,
and you have been conversant with them. What other master,
then, do you wait for, to throw upon that the delay of reform-
ing yourself? You are no longer a boy, but a grown man. 25
If, therefore, you will be negligent and slothful, and always add
procrastination to procrastination, purpose to purpose, and fix
day after day in which you will attend to yourself, you will
insensibly continue without proficiency, and, living and dying,
persevere in being one of the vulgar. This instant, then, think
yourself worthy of living as a man grown up, and a proficient.
Let whatever appears to be the best be to you an inviolable
law. And if any instance of pain or pleasure, or glory or
disgrace, be set before you, remember that now is the combat,
now the Olympiad comes on, nor can it be put off; and that, by
once being worsted and giving way, proficiency is lost, or [by
the contrary] preserved. Thus Socrates became perfect, im-
proving himself by everything, 26 attending to nothing but
reason. And though you are not yet a Socrates, you ought,
however, to live as one desirous of becoming a Socrates.

LI

The first and most necessary topic in philosophy is that of the
use of [practical] theorems, as that, We ought not to lie; the
second is that of demonstrations, as, Whence it is that we ought

274 The Enchiridion of Epictetus

not to lie ; the third, that which gives strength and articulation
to the other two, as, Whence this is a demonstration. For
what is demonstration? What is consequence? What con-
tradiction? What truth? What falsehood? The third
topic, then, is necessary on the account of the second, and the
second on the account of the first. But the most necessary,
and that whereon we ought to rest, is the first. But we act
just on the contrary. For we spend all our time on the third
topic, and employ all our diligence about that, and entirely
neglect the first. Therefore, at the same time that we lie, we
are mighty ready to show how it is demonstrated that lying is
not right.

LII

Upon all occasions we ought to have these maxims ready at
hand:

" Conduct me, Jove, and thou, O Destiny,
Wherever your decrees have fixed my station.
I follow cheerfully; and, did I not,
Wicked and wretched, I must follow still." "

" Whoe'er yields properly to Fate, is deemed
Wise among men, and knows the laws of heaven." f

And this third :

29 " O Crito, if it thus pleases the gods, thus let it be. Anytus
and Melitus may kill me indeed, but hurt me they cannot."

THE END OF THE ENCHIRIDION

FRAGMENTS OF EPICTETUS

FROM

STOB^US, ANTONIUS, AND MAXIMUS 1

A LIFE entangled with fortune resembles a wintry torrent; for
it is turbulent, and muddy, and difficult to pass, and violent,
and noisy, and of short continuance.

A soul conversant with virtue resembles a perpetual fountain ;
for it is clear, and gentle, and potable, and sweet, and communi-
cative, and rich, and harmless, and innocent.

If you would be good, first believe that you are bad.

in

It is better to offend seldom (owning it when we do), and act
often wisely, than to say we seldom err, and offend frequently.

IV

Chastise your passions, that they may not punish you.

Be not so much ashamed of what is void of glory, as studious
to shun what is void of truth.

VI

If you would be well spoken of, learn to speak well of others,
And, when you have learned to speak well of them, endeavoui

275

276 Fragments of Epictetus

likewise to do well to them; and thus you will reap the fruit of
being well spoken of by them.

VII

Freedom is the name of virtue ; and slavery, of vice ; and both
these are actions of choice. But neither of them belongs to
things in which choice hath no share. But fortune 2 is accus-
tomed to dispose at her pleasure of the body, and those things
relating to the body in which choice hath no share. For no one
is a slave whose choice is free. Fortune is an evil chain to the
body, and vice to the soul. For he whose body is unbound,
and whose soul is chained, is a slave. On the contrary, he whose
body is chained, and his soul unbound, is free. The chain of
the body nature unbinds by death, and vice by 3 money ; the
chain of the soul virtue unbinds by learning, and experience,
and philosophic exercise.

VIII

If you would live with tranquillity and content, endeavour to
have all who live with you good. And you will have them good
by instructing the willing and dismissing the unwilling. 4 For
together with the fugitives will wickedness and slavery fly ; and
with those who remain with you will goodness and liberty be
left.

IX

6 It is scandalous that he who sweetens his drink by the gifts
of the bees should by vice embitter reason, the gift of the gods.

No one who is a lover of money, a lover of pleasure, or a lover
of glory, is likewise a lover of mankind; but only he who is a
lover of virtue.

XI

As you would not wish to sail in a large and finely decorated
and gilded ship, and sink; so neither is it eligible to inhabit a

A Right Constitution of Soul 277

grand and sumptuous house, and be in a storm [of passions
and cares].

XII

When we are invited to an entertainment, we take what we
find ; and if any one should bid the master of the house set fish
or tarts before him, he would be thought absurd. Yet, in the
world, we ask the gods for what they do not give us, and that
though they have given us so many things.

XIII

They are pretty fellows indeed, said he, who value them-
selves on things not in our own power. I am a better man than
you, says one, for I have many estates, and you are pining with
hunger. I have been consul, says another; I am a governor,
a third ; and I have a fine head of hair, says a fourth. Yet one
horse doth not say to another, " I am better than you, for I
have a great deal of hay and a great deal of oats ; and I have a
gold bridle and embroidered trappings "; but, " I am swifter
than you." And every creature is better or worse, from its
own good or bad qualities. Is man, then, the only creature
which hath no natural good quality? And must we consider
hair, and clothes, and ancestors [to judge of him]?

XIV

Patients are displeased with a physician who doth not pre-
scribe to them, and think he gives them over. And why are
none so affected towards a philosopher as to conclude he
despairs of their recovery to a right way of thinking, if he tells
them nothing which may be for their good ?

xv

They who have a good constitution of body support heats
and colds; and so they who have a right constitution of soul
bear [the attacks of] anger, and grief, and immoderate joy, and
the other passions.

278 Fragments of Epictetus

XVI

Examine yourself, whether you had rather be rich or happy;
and, if rich, be assured that this is neither a good, nor altogether
in your own power; but, if happy, that this is both a good, and
in your own power, since the one is a temporary loan of fortune 8
and the other depends on choice.

XVII

As when you see a viper, or an asp, or a scorpion, in an ivory
or gold box, you do not love or think it happy on account of the
magnificence of the materials in which it is enclosed, but shun
and detest it because it is of a pernicious nature; so likewise,
when you see vice lodged in the midst of wealth and the swelling
pride of fortune, be not struck by the splendour of the materials
with which it is surrounded, but despise the base alloy of its
manners.

XVIII

Riches are not among the number of things which are good ;
prodigality is of the number of those which are evil; lightness
of mind, of those which are good. Now, Tightness of mind
invites to frugality and the acquisition of things that are good;
but riches invite to prodigality, and seduce from rightness of
mind. It is difficult, therefore, for a rich person to be right-
minded, or a right-minded person rich. 7

XIX

8 Just as if you had been bred and born in a ship, you

would not be eager to become the pilot. For neither would the
ship have any natural and perpetual connection 9 with you
there, nor have riches here, but reason everywhere. That,
therefore, which is natural and congenial to you, reason, think
likewise to be in a peculiar manner your own, and take care
of it.

Living Well 279

XX

If you were born in Persia, you would not endeavour to live
in Greece, but to be happy in the place where you are. Why,
then, if you are born in poverty, do you endeavour to be rich,
and not to be happy in the condition where you are?

XXI

As it is better to lie straitened for room upon a little couch in
health, than to toss upon a wide bed in sickness, so it is better
to contract yourself within the compass of a small fortune and
be happy, than to have a great one and be wretched.

XXII

It is not poverty that causes sorrow, but covetous desires ; 10
nor do riches deliver from fear, but reasoning. If, therefore,
you acquire a habit of reasoning, you will neither desire riches
nor complain of poverty.

XXIII

A horse is not elated, and doth not value himself on his fine
manger or trappings or saddle-clothes ; nor a bird, on the warm
materials of its nest: but the former, on the swiftness of his
feet; and the latter, of its wings. Do not you, therefore, glory
in your eating or dress, or, briefly, in any external advantage
but in good-nature and beneficence.

XXIV

There is a difference between living well and living profusely.
The one arises from contentment and order, and decency and
frugality ; the other from dissoluteness and luxury, and disorder
and indecency. In short, to the one belongs true praise, to the
other censure. If, therefore, you would live well, do not seek
to be praised for profuseness.

280 Fragments of Epictetus

XXV

Let the first satisfying of appetite be always the measure to
you of eating and drinking, and appetite itself the sauce and the
pleasure. Thus you will never take more [food] than is neces-
sary, nor will you want cooks; and you will be contented with
whatever drink falls in your way. 11

XXVI

Be careful not to thrive 12 by the meats in your stomach, but
by cheerfulness in the soul. For the former, as you see, are
evacuated and carried off together; but the latter, though the
soul be separated, 13 remains uncorrupted and sincere.

XXVII

In every feast remember that there are two guests to be
entertained, the body and the soul; and that what you give
the body you presently lose, but what you give the soul remains
for ever.

XXVIII

Do not mix anger with profusion and set them before your
guests. Profusion makes its way through the body and is
quickly gone; but anger, when it hath penetrated the soul,
abides for a long time. Take care not to be transported with
anger and affront your guests, at a great expense; but rather
delight them at a cheap rate by gentle behaviour.

XXIX

Take care at your meals that the attendants be not more in
number than those whom they are to attend. For it is absurd
that many persons should wait on a few chairs.

XXX

It would be best if ; both while you are personally making your

Thought for the Servants 281

preparations, and while you are feasting at table, you could give
among the servants part of what is before you. 14 But, if such
a thing be difficult at that time, remember that you, who are
not weary, are attended by those who are; you, who are eating
and drinking, by those who are not; you, who are talking, by
those who are silent; you, who are at ease, by those who are
under constraint; 16 and thus you will never be heated into any
unreasonable passion yourself, nor do any mischief by pro-
voking another.

XXXI

Strife and contention are always absurd, but particularly
unbecoming at table conversations. For a person warmed
with wine will never either teach or be convinced by one who
is sober. And wherever sobriety is wanting, the end will show
that you have exerted yourself to no purpose.

XXXII

Grasshoppers are musical, but snails are dumb. The one
rejoice in being wet, and the others in being warm. Then the
dew calls out the one, and for this they come forth ; but, on the
contrary, the noonday sun awakens the other, and in this they
sing. If, therefore, you would be a musical and harmonious
person, whenever, in parties of drinking, the soul is bedewed
with wine, suffer her not to go forth and defile herself. But
when, in parties of conversation, she glows by the beams of
reason, then command her to speak from inspiration and utter
the oracles of justice.

XXXIII

Consider him with whom you converse in one of these three
ways: either as superior to you fin abilities], or inferior, or
equal. If superior, you ought to hear him and be convinced;
if inferior, to convince 18 him; if equal, to agree with him; and
thus you will never be found guilty of h'tigiousness.

XXXIV

It is better, by yielding to truth, to conquer opinion; than,
by yielding to opinion, to be defeated by truth.

282 Fragments of Epictetus

XXXV

If you seek truth you will not seek to conquer by all possible
means; and when you have found truth, you will have a
security against being conquered.

xxxvi
Truth conquers by itself, opinion by foreign aids.

XXXVII

It is better, by living with one free person, to be fearless and
free, than to be a slave in company with many.

XXXVIII

What you avoid suffering yourself, attempt not to impose
on others. You avoid slavery, for instance; take care not to
enslave. For, if you can bear to exact slavery from others,
you appear to have been first yourself a slave. For vice hath
no communication with virtue, nor freedom with slavery. As
a person in health would not wish to be attended by the sick,
nor to have those who live with him be in a state of sickness;
so neither would a person who is free bear to be served by
slaves, or to have those who live with him in a state of slavery.

XXXIX

Whoever you are that would live at a distance from slaves,
deliver yourself from slavery. And you will be free if you
deliver yourself from [the power of] appetite. For neither was
Aristides called just, nor Epaminondas divine, nor Lycurgus
a preserver, because they were rich and were served by slaves,
but because, being poor, they delivered Greece from slavery.

XL

If you would have your house securely inhabited, imitate the
Spartan Lycurgus. And as he did not enclose his city with walls,

Good Taste 283

but fortified the inhabitants with virtue, and preserved the city
always free, so you do likewise; not surround yourself with a
great courtyard, nor raise high towers, but strengthen those
that live with you by benevolence and fidelity and friendship.
And thus nothing hurtful will enter, even if the whole band of
wickedness was set in array against it.

XLI

Do not hang your house round with tablets and pictures, but
adorn it with sobriety. For those are merely foreign, and a
fading 17 deception of the eyes ; but this, a congenial and
indelible and perpetual ornament to the house.

XLII

Instead of herds of oxen, endeavour to assemble flocks of
friends about your house.

XLIII

As a wolf resembles a dog, so doth a flatterer and an adulterer
and a parasite resemble a friend. Take heed, therefore, that,
instead of guardian dogs, you do not inadvertently admit
ravening wolves.

XLIV

He is void of true taste who strives to have his house admired
by decorating it with a showish outside; but to adorn our
characters by the gentleness of a communicative temper is at
once a proof of good taste and good nature.

XLV

If you admire little things, in the first place, you will never w
be thought to deserve great ones; but, if you despise little
things, you will be greatly admired.

284 Fragments of Epictetus

XLVI

Nothing is meaner than the love of pleasure, the love of gain,
and insolence. Nothing is nobler than magnanimity, meek-
ness, and good-nature.

XLVII

Producing the sentiments of those intractable philosophers
who do not think [the enjoyment of] pleasure to be [in itself]
the natural state of man, but merely an adventitious circum-
stance of those things in which his natural state consists, justice,
sobriety, and freedom. For what manner of reason, then,
should the soul rfejoice, and feel a serenity from the lesser good
of the body, as Epicurus says it doth, and not be pleased with
its own good, which is the very greatest? And yet nature hath
given me likewise a sense of shame; and I am covered with
blushes when I think I have uttered any indecent expression.
This emotion will not suffer me to lay down pleasure as [in
itself] a good, and the end of life.

XLVIII

The ladies at Rome have Plato's Republic in their hands,
because he allows a community of wives; for they attend
merely to the words of the author, and not to his sense. For
he doth not first order one man and one woman to marry and
live together, and then allow a community of wives, but he
abolishes that kind of marriage and introduces one of another
kind. 19 And, in general, men are pleased in finding out excuses
for their own faults. Yet philosophy says, it is not fit even to
move a finger without some reason.

XLIX

The more rarely the objects of pleasure occur, the more
delightful they are.

Whenever any one exceeds moderation, the most delightful
things may become the most undelightful.

Magnanimity 285

LI

Agrippinus was justly entitled to praise on this account, that,
though he was a man of the highest worth, he never praised
himself; but blushed, even if another praised him. And he
was a man of such a character as to write in praise of every
harsh event that befell him; if he was feverish, of a fever; if
disgraced, of disgrace; if banished, of banishment. And when
once, as he was going to dine, a messenger brought him word that
Nero ordered him to banishment: Well, then, says Agrippinus,
we will dine at Aricia, 2(>

LII

Diogenes affirmed no labour to be good, unless the end was a
due state and tone of the soul, and not of the body.

LIII

As a true balance is neither set right by a true one, nor
judged by a false one, 21 so likewise a just person is neither set
right by just persons, nor judged by unjust ones.

LIV

As what is straight hath no need of what is straight, so neither
what is just of what is just [to assist or amend it].

LV

Do not give judgment from another tribunal before you have
been judged yourself as the tribunal of justice. 22

LVI

If you would give a just sentence, mind neither parties nor
pleaders, but the cause itself

286 Fragments of Epictetus

LVII

You will commit the fewest faults in judging, if you are
faultless in your own life.

LVIII

It is better, by giving a just judgment, to be ^ blamed by
him who is deservedly condemned, than, by giving an unjust
judgment, to be justly censured by nature.

LIX

As the touch-stone which tries gold is not itself tried by the
gold, such is he who hath the rule of judging.

LX

It is scandalous for a judge to be judged by others.

LXI

As nothing is straighter than what is straight, so nothing is
juster than what is just. 24

LXII

Who among you do not admire the action of Lycurgus the
Lacedemonian? For when he had been deprived of one of his
eyes by one of the citizens, and the people had delivered the
young man to him to be punished in whatever manner he should
think proper, Lycurgus forbore to give him any punishment.
But having instructed and rendered him a good man, he brought
him into the theatre; and, while the Lacedemonians were
struck with admiration, " I received," says he, " this person
from you injurious and violent, and I restore him to you gentle,
and a good citizen."

Practice and Principle 287

LXIII

When Pittacus had been unjustly treated by some person,
and had the power of chastising him, he let him go; saying,
" Forgiveness is better than punishment; for the one is the
proof of a gentle, the other of a savage nature."

LXIV

But, above all, this is the business of nature, to connect and
mutually adapt the exertion of the active powers 2b to the
appearance of what is fit and beneficial.

LXV

It is the character of the most mean-spirited and foolish men
to suppose they shall be despised by others, unless, by every
method, they hurt those who are first their enemies. 28

LXVI

When you are going to attack any one with vehemence and
threatening, remember to say first to yourself that you are [by
nature] a gentle animal, and that by doing nothing violent you
shall live without repentance, and without need of being set
right.

LXVII

We ought to know that it is not easy for a man to form a
principle of action, unless he daily speaks and hears the same
things, and, at the same time, accommodates them to the use
of life.

LXVIII

Nicias was so intent on business that he often asked his
domestics whether he had bathed, and whether he had dined.

288 Fragments of Epictetus

LXIX

While Archimedes was intent on his Diagrams, his servants
drew him away by violence, and anointed 22 him ; and, after
his body was anointed, he traced his figures upon that.

LXX

When Lampis, the sea commander, was asked how he
acquired riches: " A great deal," said he, " without difficulty,
but a little with labour."

LXXI

Solon, when he was silent at an entertainment, being asked
by Periander whether he was silent for want of words, or from
folly: " No fool/' answered he, " can be silent at a feast."

LXXII

Consult nothing so much, upon every occasion, as safety.
Now it is safer to be silent than to speak; and omit speaking
whatever is not accompanied with sense and reason.

LXXIII

As lighthouses in havens, by kindling a great flame from a
few fagots, afford a considerable assistance to ships wandering
on the sea: so an illustrious person, in a state harassed by
storms, while he is contented with little himself, confers great
benefits on his fellow-citizens.

As you would certainly, if you undertook to steer a ship,
learn the steersman's art. For it will be in your power, as, in
that case, to steer the whole ship, so, in this, the whole state.

A Great Soul in a Little House 289

LXXV

If you have a mind to adorn your city by consecrated monu-
ments, first consecrate in yourself the most beautiful monument
of gentleness and justice and benevolence.

LXXVI

You will confer the greatest benefits on your city, not by
raising the roofs, but by exalting the souls [of your fellow-
citizens]. For it is better that great souls should live in small
habitations than that abject slaves should burrow in great
houses.

LXXVII

Do not variegate the structure of your walls with Euboean
and Spartan stone; but adorn both the minds of the citizens
and of those who govern them by the Grecian education. For
cities are made good habitations by the sentiments of those
who live in them, not by wood and stone.

LXXVIII

As, if you were to breed lions, you would not be solicitous
about the magnificence of their dens, but the qualities of the
animals themselves : so, if you undertake to preside over your
fellow-citizens, be not so solicitous about the magnificence of
the buildings, as careful of the fortitude of those who inhabit
them.

LXXIX

As a skilful manager of horses doth not feed the good colts,
and suffer the unruly ones to starve, but feeds them both alike;
only whips one more, to make him draw equally with his fellow:
so a man of care and skill in the art of civil government en-
deavours to do good ** to the well-disposed citizens, but not at
once to destroy those that are otherwise. He by no means
denies subsistence to either of them; 'only he disciplines and
urges on, with the greater vehemence, him who resists reason
and the laws.

LXXX

As neither a goose is alarmed by gaggling, nor a sheep by
bleating: so neither be you terrified by the voice of a senseless
multitude.

290 Fragments of Epictetus

LXXXI

As you do not comply with a multitude when it injudiciously
asks of you any part of your own property : so neither be dis-
concerted by a mob when it endeavours to force you to any
unjust compliance.

LXXXII

Pay in, before you are called upon, what is due to the public,
and you will never be asked for what is not due.

LXXXIII

As the sun doth not wait for prayers and incantations to be
prevailed on to rise, but immediately shines forth, and is
received with universal salutation : so, neither do you wait for
applauses and shouts and praises, in order to do good ; but be a
voluntary benefactor, and you will be beloved like the sun. 29

LXXXIV

A ship ought not to be fixed by one anchor, nor life on a single
hope. 80

LXXXV

We ought not to stretch either our legs or our hopes to a point
they cannot reach.

LXXXVI

Thales, being asked what was the most universally enjoyed
of all things, answered, " Hope; for they have it who have
nothing else."

LXXXVII

It is more necessary for the soul to be cured than the body ;
for it is better to die than to live ill.

LXXXVIII

Pyrrho used to say, " There is no difference between living
and dying.'* A person asked him, Why, then, do not you die?
" Because," answered Pyrrho, " there is no difference." 31

Willing Neither to Live or Die 291

LXXXIX

Nature is admirable, and, as Xenophon says, fond of life.
Hence we love and take care of the body, which is of all things
the most unpleasant and squalid. For if we were obliged,
only for five days, to take care of our neighbour's body, we
could not support it. For only consider what it would be,
when we get up in a morning, to wash the teeth of others, and
do all requisite offices besides. In reality, it is wonderful we
should love a thing which every day demands so much attend-
ance. I stuff this sack, and then I empty it again. What is
more troublesome? But I must obey God. Therefore I stay,
and bear to wash and feed and clothe this paltry, miserable body.
When I was younger, he commanded me something still more,
and I bore it. And will you not, when nature, which gave the
body, takes it away, bear that? " I love it," say you. Well,
this is what I have just been observing; and this very love hath
nature given you; but she also says, " Now let it go, and have
no further trouble."

xc

When a young man dies, [an old one] accuses the gods that,
at the time when he ought to be at rest, he is encumbered with
the troubles of life. Yet, 32 nevertheless, when death approaches,
he wishes to live, and sends for the physician, and entreats him
to omit no care or pains. It is marvellous that men should not
be willing either to live or die.

xci

To a longer and worse life, a shorter and better is by all
means to be preferred by every one.

xcn

When we are children, our parents deliver us to the care of a
tutor, who is continually to watch over us that we get no hurt.
When we are become men, God delivers us to the guardian-
ship of an implanted conscience. We ought by no means,
then, to despise this guardian ; for it will both displease ^ God,
and we shall be enemies to our own conscious principle.

XCIII

Riches ought to be used as the materials of some action, and
not upon every occasion alike.

292 Fragments of Epictetus

XCIV

All men should rather wish for virtue than wealth, which is
dangerous to the foolish; for vice is increased by riches. And
in proportion as any one is destitute of understanding, into the
more injurious excess he flies out, by having the means of grati-
fying the rage of his pleasures.

xcv

What ought not to be done, be not even suspected [or, enter-
tain not even a thought] of doing. 34

xcvi

Deliberate much before you say and do anything; for it will
not be in your power to recall what is said or done.

xcvn
Every place is safe to him who lives with justice.

XCVIII

Crows pick out the eyes of the dead when they are no longer
of any use. But flatterers destroy the soul of the living, and
blind its eyes.

xcix

The anger of a monkey, and the threats of a flatterer, deserve
equal regard.

Kindly receive those who are willing to give good advice;
but not those who upon every occasion are eager to flatter.
For the former truly see what is advantageous; but the latter
consider only the opinions of their superiors, and imitate the
shadows of bodies by nodding assent to what they say.

ci

A monitor ought, in the first place, to have a regard to the
delicacy and sense ** of shame of the person admonished. For
they who are hardened against a blush are incorrigible.

The Claim of Man on Man 293

en

It is better to admonish than reproach; for the one is mild
and friendly, the other harsh and affronting; and the one
corrects the faulty, the other only convicts them.

cm

36 Communicate to strangers and persons in need, according
to your ability. 37 For he who gives nothing to the needy,
shall receive nothing in his own need.

civ

A person once brought clothes to a pirate, who had been cast
ashore and almost killed by the severity of the weather; then
carried him to his house and furnished him with other con-
veniences. Being reproached by some person for doing good
to bad people, " I have paid this regard," answered he, " not
to the man, but to human nature."

cv

We ought not to choose every pleasure, but that which tends
to something good.

cvi

It is the character of a wise man to resist pleasure, and of a
fool to be enslaved by it.

cvn

In all vice, pleasure being presented like a bait, draws sensual
minds to the hook of perdition.

cvm

Choose rather to punish your appetites than to be punished
by them.

cix
No one is free who doth not command himself.

ex

The vine bears three clusters. The first of pleasure, the
second of intoxication, the third of outrage. 38

294 Fragments of Epictetus

CXI

Do not talk much over wine to show your learning; for your
discourse will be loathsome.

cxn

He is a drunkard who takes more than three glasses; and
though he be not drunk, he hath exceeded moderation.

CXIII

39 Let discourse of God be renewed every day, preferably to
our food.

cxiv
Think oftener of God than you breathe.

cxv

If you always remember that God stands by, an inspector of
whatever you do either in soul or body, you will never err,
either in your prayers or actions, and you will have God abiding
with you.

cxvi

As it is pleasant to view the sea from the shore, so it is pleasant
to one who hath escaped to remember his past labours.

ex vi i

The intention of the law is to benefit human life; but it
cannot, when men themselves choose to suffer, for it discovers
its proper virtue in the obedient.

cxvin

As physicians are the preservers of the sick, so are the laws
of the injured.

cxix
The justest laws are the truest.

cxx

It is decent to yield to a law, to a governor, and to a wiser
man.

How to Grieve Your Enemy 295

CXXI

Things done contrary to law are the same as if they were
undone.

cxxn

In prosperity it is very easy to find a friend, in adversity
nothing is so difficult.

CXXIII

Time delivers fools from grief; and reason, wise men.

cxxiv

He is a man of sense who doth not grieve for what he hath
not, but rejoices in what he hath.

cxxv

Epictetus being asked how a person might grieve his enemy,
answered, " By doing as well as possible himself.' 1

cxxvi

Let no wise man estrange himself from the government of the
state; for it is both impious to withdraw from being useful to
those that need it, and cowardly to give way to the worthless.
For it is foolish to choose rather to be governed ill, than to
govern well.

CXXVII

Nothing is more * becoming a governor, than to despise no
one, nor IDC insolent, but to preside over all impartially.

CXXVIII

Any person may live happy in poverty, but few in wealth
and power. So great is the advantage of poverty, that no man
observant of the laws 41 of life would change it for disreputable
wealth; unless, indeed, Themistocles, the son of Neocles, the
most wealthy of the Athenians, in a poverty of virtue was
better than Aristides and Socrates. But both himself and his
wealth are perished, and without a name. For a bad man loses
all in death, but virtue is eternal.

296 Fragments of Epictetus

CXXIX

[Remember] that such is, and was, and will be, the nature of
the world; nor is it possible that things should be otherwise
than they now are, and that not only men and other animals
upon earth partake of this change and transformation, but the
divinities also. For, indeed, even the four elements are trans-
formed and changed up and down; and earth becomes water,
and water air, and this again is transformed into other things.
And the same manner of transformation happens from things
above to those below. Whoever endeavours to turn his mind
towards these points, and persuade himself to receive with
willingness what cannot be avoided, he will pass his life with
moderation and harmony.

cxxx

He who is discontented with things present, and allotted by
Fortune, is unskilful in life. But he who bears them, and the
consequences arising from them, nobly and rationally, is worthy
to be esteemed a good man.

CXXXI

All things obey, and are subservient to, the world; 42 the
earth, the sea, the sun, and other stars, and the plants and
animals of the earth. Our body likewise obeys it, in being sick
and well, and young and old, and passing through the other
changes, whenever that decrees. It is therefore reasonable
that what depends on ourselves, that is, our judgment, should
not be the only rebel to it. For the world is powerful, and
superior, and consults the best for us, by governing us in con-
junction with the whole. Further: opposition, besides that
it is unreasonable, and produces nothing except a vain struggle,
throws us likewise into pain and sorrows.

THE FOLLOWING FRAGMENTS ARE ASCRIBED
JOINTLY TO EPICTETUS AND OTHER
AUTHORS 1

CONTENTMENT, as it is a short and delightful way, hath much
gracefulness and little trouble.

n

Fortify yourself with contentment; for this is an impregnable
fortress.

in

Prefer nothing to truth, not even the choice of friendship,
lying within the reach of the passions; for by them justice is
both confounded and darkened.

IV

Truth is an immortal and eternal thing. It bestows, not a
beauty which time will wither, nor a boldness of which the
sentence of a judge can deprive 8 us; but [the knowledge of]
what is just and lawful, distinguishing from them, and con-
futing, what is unjust.

We should have neither a blunt sword, nor an ineffectual 3
boldness of speech.

VI

Nature has given man one tongue, but two ears, that we may
hear twice as much as we speak.

297

298 Fragments of Epictetus

VII

Nothing is in reality either pleasant or unpleasant by nature ;
but all things are effected by custom.

VIII

Choose the best life; for custom will make it pleasant.

IX

Choose rather to leave your children well instructed than rich.
For the hopes of the learned are better than the riches of the
ignorant.

x

A daughter is a possession to a father which is not his own.

XI

The same person advised the leaving modesty to children,
rather than gold.

XII

The reproach of a father is an agreeable medicine; for the
profit is greater than the pain.

XIII

He who succeeds in a son-in-law finds a son; he who fails in
one loses likewise a daughter.

XIV

The worth ofl earning, like that of gold, is esteemed in every
place.

Of Friendship 299

XV

He who exercises wisdom exercises the knowledge of God.

XVI

There is no animal so beautiful as a man adorned by learning.

XVII

We ought to fly the friendship of the wicked and the enmity
of the good.

XVIII

Necessitous circumstances prove friends and detect enemies.

XIX

We ought to do well by our friends when they are present, and
speak well of them when they are absent.

xx

Let not him think he is loved by any who loves none.

XXI

We ought to choose both a physician and a friend, not the
most agreeable, but the most useful.

XXII

If you would lead a life without sorrow, consider things which
will happen, as if they had already happened.

XXIII

Be exempt from grief, not like irrational creatures, from
insensibility; nor from inconsiderateness, like fools; but like
a man of virtue, making reason the remedy for grief.

300 Fragments of Epictetus

XXIV

They whose minds are the least grieved by calamities, and
whose actions struggle the most against them, are the greatest
both iu public and in private life.

XXV

They who are well instructed, like those who are exercised
in the Palaestra, if they happen to fall, quickly and dexterously
rise again from misfortunes.

XXVI

We ought to call in reason, like a good physician, to our
assistance in misfortunes.

XXVII

A fool intoxicated by a long course of good fortune, as by
one of drinking, becomes more senseless.

XXVIII

Envy is the adversary of the fortunate.

XXIX

He who remembers what man is, is discontented at nothing
which happens.

XXX

A pilot and a fair wind are necessary to a happy voyage;
reason and art, to a happy life.

XXXI

Good fortune, like ripe fruit, ought to be enjoyed while it is
present.

XXXII

He is unreasonable who is displeased at events which happen
from natural necessity.

THE FOLLOWING FRAGMENTS ARE OMITTED BY
MR. UPTON; BUT AS THEY STAND UNDER THE
NAME OF ARRIAN, AND SEEM TO BE IN THE
SPIRIT OF EPICTETUS, THEY ARE ADDED HERE

1 WHAT does it signify to me, says he, whether the universe is
composed of atoms or uncompounded 2 substances, or of fire
and earth? Is it not sufficient to know the essence of good and
evil, and the proper bounds of the desires and aversions; and,
besides those, of the active powers; and by the making use of
these as so many certain rules, to order the conduct of life, and
bid these things which are above us farewell, which, perhaps,
are incomprehensible to human understanding; but if one
should suppose them ever so comprehensible, still, what is the
benefit of them when comprehended ? And must it not be said
that he gives himself trouble to no purpose who allots these
things as necessary to the character of a philosopher? " What
then, is the Delphic admonition, Know thyself, superfluous? "
" No, surely," says he. " What, then, doth it mean? " If
any one should admonish a performer in a chorus to know
himself, would not he attend to it as a direction about his 3
motions? . . .

II

4 The same person being asked wherein the diligent have the
advantage of the slothful? answered, Wherein the pious have
the advantage of the impious : in good hopes.

in

6 Walls give to cities, and cultivation of the understanding
to minds, ornament and security.

*L 404 301

302 Fragments of Epictetus

IV

c When a young man was giving himself airs in a public place,
and saying that he was grown wise by conversing with many
wise men: I have conversed, too, answered somebody, with
many rich men, but I am not grown rich.

7 Socrates, being sent for by Archelaus, 8 as designing to make
him a rich man, returned him this answer: " Four quarts of
meal are sold at Athens for five farthings, and the fountains run
with water. If what I have is not sufficient for me, yet I am
sufficiently able to make a shift with that ; and thus it becomes
sufficient for me. Do not you perceive that it makes no differ-
ence in the goodness of Polus [the player's] voice, whether he
performs the part of (Edipus in his regal state, or when he is a
wanderer and a beggar at Colonus? And shall a brave man
appear worse than Polus, and not perform well in whatever
personage is imposed upon him by the Deity? Shall he not
imitate Ulysses, who made no worse figure in rags than in a fine
purple robe? "

VI

There are some persons who are calmly of a high spirit, and
do all the same things quietly, and as it were without anger,
which those do who are hurried with strong passion. We are to
guard, therefore, against the faults of such persons, as being
much worse than that of violent anger. For people of the
latter character are quickly satiated with vengeance, whereas
the others extend it to a longer time, like persons in a slow fever.

NOTES

INTRODUCTION

1 Sensibus ipsis judicari voluptates. Cic. de Fin. ii. By Pleasure
the Epicureans sometimes explained themselves to mean only
freedom from uneasiness: but the philosophers of other sects in
general, as well as Cicero, insist, producing their own expressions for
it, that they meant sensual delights. This, indeed, was more ex-
plicitly the doctrine of Aristippus, the father of the Cyrenaics, a
sect, however, which sunk into the Epicureans, whose notions
plainly led to the dissoluteness so remarkable in the lives of most
of them.

* The Stoics define these terms : the one, a motion by which we
are carried towards some object; the other, a motion by which we
strive to shun it. The original words, by a happiness in the Greek
language, are properly opposed to each other; which the English
will not admit. I have chosen the best I could find, and wish they
were better.

It seems strange that the Stoics generally put the Assents last,
since both the affections and will should be governed by the under-
standing, which, therefore, should be rectified in order to do its
office well. Epictetus seems to be of this opinion in i. 17. But,
perhaps, they thought common sense or natural logic sufficient for
this purpose, and artificial logic, which they meant, but did not
express clearly by the word Assents, necessary as a guard only
against sophistry. Yet their mentioning it as a guard also against
being misled when they were in drink, and even in their dreams,
leaves but little room for this conjecture.

4 Kai /*V rty dperty XpiViTiros airOjSXTjr?/?, KXedi'ffys dt
6 ptv, diro/SXTjTV 5td /ui0i}? KOU ^e\a-yxM a1 ' * ^ &, ava
pepalovt KaraX^ei*. Ehog. Lacrt. in Zeno.

Nam si argumentaberis, sapientem multo vino inebriari, et
retinere rectum tenorem, etiamsi temulentus sit: licet colligas, ncc
veneno poto moriturum, etc. Sen. Epist. 83.

The original word is of peculiar signification among the Stoics,
and I wish it could have been rendered into English in a manner
less ambiguous and more expressive of its meaning. But the Stoic
language perished with the Stoic sect, and scarcely any of its
technical terms can now be rendered intelligible except by a para-
phrase or a definition.

Ttirwffiv lw ^VXTJ- Diog- Laert. vii. 45.

7 (cm di i) irpdXij^LS, 6'vota (pixriK'ti rdv icad' 6\ov. Diog. Laeit. vii.
54-

33

304 The Discourses of Epictetus

I am sensible that Prosperity, in common use, relates wholly to
external circumstances; but I could find no better word to express
the internal good condition of mind which the Stoics meant by
etipota. There is an instance of the like use, i John iii. 2.

Quidquid de Deo dixeris, quidquid tacitae mentis cogitatione con-
ceperis, in humanum transilit, et corrumpitur, sensum: nee habet
propriae significationis notam, quod nostris verbis dicitur, atque ad
humana negotia compositis.

Arnob. adv. Gentes. iii. p. in. Ed. Lugd. Bat. 1651.

10 &<f>6apTos Kal dytw-qros. Diog. Laer. vii. 137.

11 6e6v 8' clvai $ov aOdvarov, \oyuc6v, r\iov, 1) voepbv v fti&ujuovfy,
KO.KOV iravTot dviridKTov, vpovoijriKov K&J/XOU re Kal r&v Iv KO<TW /XT)
elvat IJL^VTOI avOpuirofJiopQov ftvai 8t rbv ptv dyjjuovpybv rdv 6Xwv, &<nrep
Kal irartpa Tdvrwv. Ibid. 147.

18 roXXcuj TTpoff-qyoplatt TpocrovojuLdfcrai Kara rat 8w</Afij. Ibid.

13 otolav 8t 6eou Z^vwv ptv Qtjffi rbv Aov K^XT^OV Kal rbv obpav&v. Ibid.
148.

14 6 pkv o$v x6<Tfj.os ircirepafffjitvo* cffrlv. Ibid.

18 Kara xp^ vtav fotat irpi68ovs ava\l<rK<av (It iavrbv vaffav TTJV ova Lav,
Kal vd\iv <l iavrov ycvvQv. Ibid. 137.

ie See Philo Judaeus, of the incorruptibility of the world, p. 947,
Ed. Par.

17 Bcfa tVri Trvfvjjia vocp&v Kal rupwS^y, o5r fx ov pop^fy) f*Tapa\\ov $1
f it a p6v\frai Kal ffvvcofj.OLOVfj,(vov TCUTI. Posidonius.

18 irCp TXvtK6v. Plut. d j Placit Philosoph. i. 7.

14 oOroi rbv 6e<5v, apxty fora, vufj-a. vocp6v, Kal vovv $v ti\y iroiouvrey, ov
Ka$ap6v, ovSe air\ovv ovde afftivderov, aXXd t% irpov, Kal di irtpov airo-
tfsaivovffi. Plut. de Communibus notitiis adv. Stoicos., p. 1085.

10 crw/xa 84 <rn t icar* ai/rotfs, i) ot<rta. Diog. Laert. vii. 1 50.

11 Adv. Praxeam. c. 7. Yet, De Anima, c. 7, he says, Omne
corporale passibilc est, which he certainly did not think God was.

** 5oKet 5* afrroit apxat ctvai rCtv &\tw 860, r6 iroiovv Kal r6 irdffx w ' r &
jji,tv ofiv ird<rx v (Ivai rty airotov overlay, rffv CXqv rb de votovv, rov tv
avT-j \6yov, TOV Qf6v. Diog. Laer. vii. 1 34.

88 Dcus ista temperat, quae circumfusa rectorem sequuntur et
ducem. Potentius autem est quod facit, quod est deus, quam
materia patiens dei. Sen. Epist. 65.

Nulli igitur est naturae obediens, aut subjectus deus. Omnem
ergo regit ipse naturam. Cic. de Nat. Deor. ii. 30. Ed. Dav.

24 Non potest artifex mutare materiam. Sen. de Provid. c. 8.
i.i.

M Non universe hominum generi, solum, sed etiam singulis, etc.
Cic. de Nat. Deor. iii.

27 Anus fatidica. Ibid. i.

28 Nee sine ratione, quamvis subita, accidere. Sen. de Provid. c.i.

Notes 305

lf \6yot KO.P &v 6 K<$<rAtos Stej-dycrai. Diog. Lacr. vii. 149.

80 Chrysippus - Applicat se ad eos potius, qui necessitate motus
animos [Animorum. Dav.] liberates volunt. Dum autem verbts
utitur suis, delabitur in eas dififrcultates, ut necessitatem Fati con-
firmet invitus. Cic. de Fato, 17. Dav. Chrysippus autem, cum
et necessitatem improbaret, etc., 18.

Sl Sen. de Beneficiis, vi. 23.
" Ibid. iv. 7.

* 3 Cic. de Natura Deorum, ii. 15.
14 Epic. i. 14, etc.

81 ^5 pipy elat rd? iv rots fyoij. Diog. Laert. vii. 156.

eftcu. Ibid.

i/etv, <J>Oaprr)v 5' chat.

fji6vuv. Ibid. 157.

" Lactantius, indeed, vii. 7, says: Essc inferos Zenon Stoicus
docuit, et sedes pic-rum ab impiis esse discretas: et illos quidem,
quietas et delectabiles incolere regiones; hos vero luere poenas in
tenebrosis tocis, atque in caeni voraginibus horrendis. But I know
not that any other author relates this of him.

40 See i. 12, p. 29. iii. 7. Ibid. c. 24. iv. 9, 2, 3. Ibid. c. 10,
2, c. 12, 4.

41 iii. 13.

43 The only passage that I can recollect, in which any intimation
seems to be given of a future reward, is in the fifteenth chapter of
the Enchiridion : and, probably, even there he means only a happi-
ness to be enjoyed in the present life, after due improvement in
philosophy; though he expresses it by the very strong figures of
partaking the feasts and empire of the gods. For, doubtless, the
wise man, like his kindred deities, feasted upon everything that
happened; and, by willing as Jupiter did, reigned along with him.
Besides, Epictetus says there, of Diogenes, and Heraclitus. or Her-
cules, not that they are, but that they were divine persons: which
must refer to something which had ceased when he wrote; and,
consequently, to their felicity before, not after their deaths. At
least he doth not intimate anything concerning their second life:
and if that was to be short, as it might be (and it could not reach
beyond the conflagration), and was not very certain neither, the
hope of it would be a very insufficient counterbalance to vehement
appetites and passions.

44 4. 21. These expressions, diffused and kindled, allude to the
Stoic doctrine, that souls are portions of the deity, separated for a
time, and that his essence is fire.

12. 5-

306 The Discourses of Epictetus

clvat TIVM Salivas avOpuiruv ffvpTrAOciav J?x oi/Taj
ayfjidTw. Diog. Laert. vii. 151.

Scit genius, natale comes qui temperat astrum,
Naturae deus humanae, mortalis in unum-
Quodque caput. Hor. ii. Ep. ii. 186, etc.

See Epict. i. 14, p. 33.

47 elvat <5'ai5r6 rouro rov cftdcLljtovos &prr)v Kal ryv cfipoiw fiiov, &TO.V
Trdvra irpdrryrai <carA ryv ffvfjuftuviav rod Trap* ^/tdcmp ^a/^ovos, irpds rty
rod 6\ov dioiKijTov potXyffiv. Diog. Laert. vii. 88.

48 See M. Antoninus, ii. 13, 17. iii. 3, 5. v. 27.

49 Condonanda tamen scntentia, Stoice, vestra est.
Nam si post obitum, neque pra:rma sint, neque pceru-e,
Heu, quo perventum est! Hcu, quid jam demque restat!
Scilicet humanas gerit aut res numen inique,

Aut nil curat iners, aut, si bene temperat orbem,
Nemo bonus miser est, nemo improbus esse beatus
In vita possit, gens ut sibi stoica fingit.

J. HAWKINS BROWNE.

I have a singular pleasure in quoting these lines, from a poem
which does honour to our country.

50 ii. 18, 3, 4. iii. 21, i, iv. 4, i. See likewise M. Antoninus,
L 17. ix. 4. xii. 14.

41 Est ahquid, quo sapiens antccedat deum. Ille naturae bene-
ficio, non suo, sapiens est: ecce res magna, habere imbecillitatcm
hominis, secuntatem dei. Sen. Epist. 53.

* a iv. i, 17. iv. 8, sub. fin.
53 i. 15, 2. iv. 12, 4.
64 i. 12, p. 30.

M Quis sapiens sit, aut fuerit, nee ipsos Stoicos solere dicere. Cic.
A cad. iv.

"... Cito nequitia subrepit: virtus difficihs mventu est,
rectorem ducemque desiderat. Etiam sine magistro vitia discuntur.
Sen. Natural. Qutsst. iii. c. 30.

" iv. 8, 6.

M Eo libentius Epicuri egregia dicta commemoro, ut istis, qni ad
ilia confugient, spe mala inducti, qua velamentum se ipsos suorum
vitiorum habituros existimant, probem, quocunque ierint, honeste
csse vivendum. Sen. Epist. 21. It was hard indeed to reconcile
this with some of his other doctrines.

* Suidas in Voc.

* Orig. Contra Cels. vii. 53.

tl Suidas in Voc.

Simplic. Com. p. 102.

63 A. Cell, xv. ii.

64 Simplic. Com. p. 102.

Notes 307

Ibid.

M Ibid. p. 272.

w A. Gellius, ii. 18.

M JElii Spart. Adrian, c. 17.

Orat. cons, ad Jovian. Imp.

19 In Voc.

71 The reign of Nero began A.D. 54; of Adrian, 117; of M.
Antoninus, 161.

71 Dibl. Gr. vol. iii. p. 257.

" i. 7-

74 vii. 19.

"Noct. Att. i. c. 2.

19 Contra Cels. vi. 2.

77 Com. p. 2.

71 Fabricii #iW. Gr. vol. iii. iv. c. 8, p. 269, etc.

BOOK I
CHAPTER I

1 See Introduction, 7.

1 The sacred writers also mention man as made of clay, Gen. ii.
7; Job x. 9, xxxiii. 6. ?} cri) \apuv yijv injXbtf, irXcuraf faov, xxxviii.
14.

One would hope, from the context, that Epictetus is here speak-
ing only of a moral, not a natural impossibility; an impossibility
arising merely from the present constitution of things. See Intro-
duction, 17. See likewise Book ii. chap. v. 5.

*See Introduction, 5.

* 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, xv. 60.

Epaphroditus was the Master of Requests and frcedman of
Nero, and the master of Epictetus. He assisted Nero m killing
himself, for which he was condemned to death by Domitian.
Suetonius in vita Neronis, c. 49. Domit. c. 14.

7 See Introduction, 9.

308 The Discourses of Epictetus

Thrasea Paetus, a Stoic philosopher, put to death by Nero. He
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 Thrasea
Paetus and Barea Soranus." xvi. 21,

9 Rufus was a Tuscan of the Equestrian order, and a Stoic philo-
sopher. When Vespasian banished the other philosophers, Rufus
was alone excepted. Upton.

10 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, xvi. 28, 29.

11 Aricia, a town about sixteen miles from Rome, which lay in his
road to banishment.

CHAPTER II

1 The Spartans, to make a trial of the fortitude of their children,
used to have them publicly whipped at the altar of Diana, and often
with so much seventy that they expired. The boys supported this
exercise with so much constancy as never to cry out, nor even
groan. Upton from Cicero, etc.

The supposition made by Epictetus, that it may be reasonable,
sometimes, for persons to kill themselves, is a strong and alarming
instance of the great necessity of being careful, not only in general
to form just and distinct ideas of reasonable and unreasonable, but
to apply them properly to particular subjects; since such a man as
he failed in so important a case at the very time when he was giving
cautions to others.

3 The translation here gives only the general sense, as a more
particular description would be scarcely supportable in our language.

4 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, xiv. 14.

An allusion to the purple border which distinguished the dress
of the Roman nobility.

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.

J atrf in the original refers to Jju-arfy ; but the figure would have
appeared harsh in the translation.

8 Bato was a famous master of the Olympic exercises. Upton.
Domitian ordered all the philosophers to be banished. To avoid

Notes 309

this inconvenience, those who had a mind to disguise their profes-
sion took off their beards. Upton.

"This term [irapa.<TKcirf] was used, among the Stoics, to express
the natural or acquired powers necessary to the performance of
any action.

11 See Introduction, 9.

Jt This is a difficult place. The text, as it stands now, is 'ETkr^ros
Kpl<r<r(i)v Sw/cpdrou o0/e t<rriv. el dt fJL-fi, ov x ^P (l}V > Tour6 poi Iica.v6v <TTIV.
Which must be translated, Epictetus is not superior to Socrates:
but if not, he is not inferior; and this is enough for me. By a
change in the pointing, it might perhaps be translated, But if he is
not inferior, this is enough for me. And sometimes the Stoics con-
sidered themselves as not inferior to the deity. See lib. i. c. xii. 2.
But neither of these renderings makes a proper connection I have
therefore adventured to suppose, that Kpcl<r<rw and xelpuv have
changed places; that OUK hath arisen from a casual repetition of
the two last letters of Sw^pdrou ; and that j*fj ov is the remainder
of some proper name known: perhaps MeXfrou, as he was one of
the accusers of Socrates: which cannot now be known. This will
give the sense which I have expressed, and it is the only unexcep-
tionable one that I can find.

CHAPTER IV

1 See Enchiridion, c. ii. note '.

1 Chrysippus is called by Cicero the most subtle interpreter of the
Stoic dreams, and the support of the Portico. He composed 705
volumes; which is not very wonderful, as he was so fond of quota*
tions, that in one of his pieces he transcribed almost an entire play
of Euripides. His chief study was logic, which he carried to a
trifling degree of subtlety. There is nothing now remaining of his
works but some of their titles. He died about 200 years before the
Christian era, and was honoured by the Athenians with a statue in
the Ceramicus. His death is said to have been occasioned by an
immoderate fit of laughing at seeing an ass eat figs. Chrysippus
desired the ass might have a glass of wine to wash them down, and
was so diverted with his own conceit, that it cost him his life. He
is said to have been a very copious and laborious writer, but obscure
and immoral; though one would be inclined to think, from the
respect with which he is mentioned by Epictetus, that this latter
accusation was groundless.

See Introduction, 4, 5, 6.

4 An allusion to the ancient custom among philosophers, of
travelling into foreign countries for improvement.

CHAPTER V

1 The Academics held that there is nothing to be known ; that
we have not faculties to distinguish between truth and falsehood;
and their custom was neither to affirm nor deny anything,

1 A Sceptic was held to be an esprit fort.

3 ic The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER VI

1 The translation follows ov5a/io>s in Mr. Upton's Addenda.

See Introduction, 7.

The famous statue of Jupiter Olympius.

4 The translation follows a conjectural emendation of Mr. Upton's
on this passage.

It was one part of the elegance of those times to bathe every day.

Epictetus probably introduces this ridiculous complaint in order
to intimate that others commonly made are little less so. See M.
Antoninus 1. viii. 5 * Gataker's edition and the Glasgow
translation.

CHAPTER VII

1 It is but fair to warn the reader that little entertainment is to
be expected from this chapter, which is wholly logical.

[ 2. " concluding," i.e. of arranging in logical form.]

[ 3. " from admitting," etc., roD r6 avaK6\ov0ov rotf ai/rois \6yois
irpo<r6tx ff 9 ai - Mrs. C. translates " and admit [rather the contrary,
1 mean] what," etc. Schenkl marks a lacuna, rejecting the whole
sentence ; an easy way of getting rid of a difficulty.]

CHAPTER VIII

1 This is spoken by one of the audience.

1 Epictetus, whenever he has occasion to mention himself, speaks
with remarkable modesty, and in a style very different from that of
many of the more ancient philosophers, as appears by the several
arrogant speeches recorded of them by Diogenes Laertius, etc. It
is probable he might improve in this humble disposition by the
character of Socrates, which he seems particularly to have studied
and admired. Yet other philosophers had studied and admired the
same character without profiting by it. Perhaps the sober and
unassuming temper of Christianity might, from the example of its
professors of those days, have produced this, and other good effects,
in the minds of many who knew little, if anything, of the gospel
itself.

CHAPTER IX

1 Act ^uas should probably be di' vjmas, and is so translated.

This passage has great difficulties, which I know not how to
solve, any otherwise than by supposing something after dvOptiiriva to
be lost. [It seems probable that a great deal is wanting; and that
bn todpATriva belongs to one story, and ri obv, tyy, to another. T.]

Notes 3 1 1

The translator follows Mr. Upton's conjecture in this place, and
the French version agrees with it.

[P. 23. " you can receive " assumes a reading dwaptvov. The
text reads the nom., i.e. " I can receive."]

CHAPTER X

[P. 24. " old fellows," 7fyoi>T, i.e. senators, politicians.]

1 This passage has a striking resemblance to that in Scripture,
where the children of this world are said to be wiser in their genera-
tion than the children of light.

CHAPTER XI

1 The Stoics say that wise and good men have the truly natural
affection towards their children, and bad persons have it not.
Diog. Laert. vii. 120.

CHAPTER XII

1 It was the opinion of Socrates, that the gods know all things
that are either said or done, or silently thought on: that they are
everywhere present, and give significations to mankind concerning
all human affairs. Xen. Mem. i.

* See Enchiridion, c. xxvii.
' See Introduction, 20.

4 One of the Stoic extravagances, arising from the notion that
human souls were literally parts of the deity.

CHAPTER XIII

1 If I did despise the cause of my man-servant, or my maid-
servant, when they contended with me : what then shall I do when
God riseth up? And when He visiteth, what shall I answer Him?
Did not He who made me in the womb, make him ? And did not
one fashion us in the womb? Job xxxi. 13, 14, 15.

8 i.e. Deceased legislators, who had in view low and worldly
considerations.

CHAPTER XIV

1 There is a beauty in the original, arising from the different
terminations in the verbs, which cannot be preserved in our
language.

* Perhaps the xal in this line may have been misplaced ; and it
should read roury Kai ry 6f$ *$ei i^tas ; and then the translation
will be ... To this [genius] and to God you ought to swear, etc.

3 1 2 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XV

1 The philosopher had forgot that fig-trees do not blossom : and
is less excusable than the English translators of the Bible, Hab. iii.
17, to whom fig-trees were not so familiar. But the Hebrew word
used there signifies rather in general to shoot out, thrive, than in
particular to flower.

CHAPTER XVI

1 Something here seems to be lost.

1 The ancients imagined swans could sing very melodiously.
8 Beautiful and affecting examples of such praise and exhortation
see in Ps. xxxiv. civ. cxlv., and other parts of the sacred writings.

CHAPTER XVII

1 The sense here is supplied from a conjecture of Wolfius.

* The Stoics were remarkably exact in tracing the etymology of
words: a study, certainly, of very great use: but, by too great
subtlety and refinement, they were often led by it into much trifling
and absurdity.

* See the Enchiridion, c. xlix.

CHAPTER XVIII

1 The most ignorant persons often practise what they know to be
evil ; and they who voluntarily suffer, as many do, their inclinations
to blind their judgment, are not justified by following it. The
doctrine of Epictetus, therefore, here and elsewhere, on this head,
contradicts the voice of reason and conscience; nor is it less perni-
cious than ill grounded. It destroys all guilt and merit, all punish-
ment and reward, all blame of ourselves or others, all sense of
misbehaviour towards our fellow-creatures, or our Creator. No
wonder that such philosophers did not teach repentance towards
God. [Epictetus does not imply this. He merely traces evil acts
to their source in evil thought or opinion; and recommends a
charitable pity for them.]

Several words are wanting in different places of some of the
following lines of the Greek; which are conjecturally supplied in
the translation from Mr. Upton's version.

' See Gal. vi. i, and many other parts of the New Testament, in
which all the humanity and tenderness prescribed by the Stoics are
enjoined, and the dangerous notions on which they found them are
avoided.

This alludes to a famous quibble among the Stoics. What you
have not lost, you have: but you have not lost a pair of horns:
therefore you have a pair of horns. Upton. [Rather: you can
only feel pain in what you have.]

Notes 3 1 3

8 Mr. Upton observes that Epictetus here applies to the wise man
what he had just been saying of the athletic champion; and he
proposes a change in one word, by which, instead of the heat, or
the rain, the translation will be, in a fever, or in drink. For the
Stoics held their wise man to be a perfect master of himself in all
these circumstances. The passages which Mr. Upton produces
from ii. c. 17, towards the end, and iii. c. 2 towards the beginning,
makes the conjecture of otvwfAcvos for vo^evos as probable as it is
ingenious. But yet the n ow av Kav/xa t\ one would imagine to
have crept in by a repetition of the transcriber, from the descrip-
tion, a few lines before; as it is scarcely probable that the same
word should be used by Epictetus in two different senses, at so
small a distance, in the same discourse.

CHAPTER XIX

1 When temples began to be erected to the emperors, as to gods,
the office of priest was purchased by vile flatterers, at a very great
expense. Upton from Casaubon.

8 Which was the ornament of the priests while they were offering
sacrifice.

Nicopolis was built by Augustus in memory of the victory at
Actium.

CHAPTER XX

1 Zeno, the founder of the Stoic sect, was born at Citium, a sea-
port town in the island of Cyprus. He was originally a merchant,
and very rich. On a voyage from Tyre, where he had been trading
in purple, he was shipwrecked near the Piraeum. During his stay
at Athens, he happened to meet in a bookseller's shop with the
second book of Xenophon's Memoirs, with which he was extremely
delighted, and asked the bookseller where such kind of persons as
the author mentioned were to be found. The bookseller answered,
pointing to Crates, the Cynic, who was luckily passing by, Follow
him : which Zeno did, and became his disciple. But his disposition
was too modest to approve of the Cynic indecency: and, forsaking
Crates, he applied himself to the Academics, whom he attended for
ten years, and then formed a school of his own. There was a con-
stant severity, or perhaps austerity, in his manners, his dress, and
his discourse, except at an entertainment, when he used to appear
with cheerfulness and ease. His morals were irreproachable: and
he was presented by the Athenians with a golden crown, because his
life was a public example of virtue, by its conformity with his words
and doctrines. He lived ninety-eight years, and then strangled
himself because, in going out of his school, he happened to fall
down and break his finger. Diog. Laert. in Zeno.

314 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XXII

1 See Introduction, 10.

* Wars and fightings are ascribed to the same causes by St.
James, iv. i. [" Wherever I find it " should be " from the bath."]

[P. 47. " labours," i.e. "is in labour," a metaphor used by
Socrates. Plato, Theest. 150.]

CHAPTER XXIII

1 This passage is obscure, and variously read and explained by
the commentators. It is here translated conjecturally. [Perhaps
the sense is, whence arise our suspicions, jealousies, and fears
concerning our children, if we have no natural affection towards
them? T.]

CHAPTER XXIV

1 The Greek word signifies a person who used to anoint the body
of the combatants, and prepare them by proper exercises for the
Olympic games.

* Probably, according to Mr. Upton's conjecture, ye should be <re.
We send you.

Wolfius imagines this passage to allude to the commotions after
the death of Nero, when there were many competitors for the
Empire, and every one was eager to take the part of him who
appeared to have the greatest probability of success.

* Diogenes, passing through the camp of Philip, at the time that
he was on his march against the Greeks, was taken and brought
before the King, who, not knowing him, asked if he was a spy. Yes,
certainly, Philip (answered the philosopher), I am a spy of your
inoonsiderateness and folly, in risking your kingdom and person,
without any necessity, upon the hazard of a single hour. Upton.
The story is thus told by Plutarch, but is related something
differently by other authors.

4 The translation follows Mr. Upton's reading.
1 An allusion to the (Edipus of Sophocles.

CHAPTER XXV

1 An island in' the ^Egean Sea, to which the Romans used to
banish criminals.

* The body, which Epictetus here compares to a garment, is, by
the sacred writers, represented under the figure of a house, or taber-
nacle, Job iv. 19; 2 Pet. i. 13, 14. St. Paul, with a sublime rapidity

Notes 3 1 5

of expression, joins the two metaphors together, 2 Cor. v. 2-4, as,
indeed, the one is but a looser, the other a closer covering. The
same apostle hath made use of the figure of clothing, in another
place, in a strikingly beautiful manner, i Cor. xv. 53, 54.

8 Anaxagoras is said by some, and Socrates by others, to have
made the same speech, on receiving the news of his being condemned
to death by the judges of Athens: and from one of them, probably,
Demetrius borrowed it. Demetrius was a Cynic philosopher, and
is mentioned with high approbation by Seneca.

CHAPTER XXVI

1 The text is so very corrupt in some parts of this chapter, that
the translation must have been wholly conjectural, and therefore is
omitted.

[The parts omitted are the following:

" For there are the grand materials (or opportunities), and what
is wealth here seems there but a trifle. This is what makes it diffi-
cult there to be master of appearances, when there are great things
to give you a fall," i.e. prevent a sound judgment. 'E*ei 6vra is
emended to tKcreiovra.

" Epicurus found fault with the reader of the hypothetical
arguments, and he who suggested the reading laughed. Quoth
Epicurus: ' You laugh at yourself. You did not train the lad, and
never found out whether he could follow these arguments; you
make him your reader and nothing more.' "]

CH/PTER XXVII

1 Pyrrho, the founder of the sect of the Pyrrhonists, was born at
Elis, and flourished about the time of Alexander. He held, that
there is no difference between just and unjust, good and evil: that
all things are equally indifferent, uncertain, and undistinguishable:
that neither our senses or understanding give us either a true or a
false information; therefore, that we ought to give them no credit:
but to remain without opinion; without motion; without inclina-
tion: and to say of everything, that it no more is, than it is not;
that it is no more one thing than another; and that against one
reason there is always an equal reason to be opposed. His life is
said to have been conformable to his principles, for that he never
avoided anything; and his friends were obliged to follow him, to
prevent his running under the wheels of a coach or walking down a
precipice. But these stories, perhaps, are nothing but mere inven-
tion, formed to expose the absurdities of his system. Once, when
he saw his master Anaxarchus fallen into a ditch, he passed by him
without offering him any assistance. Anaxarchus was consistent
enough with his principles not to suffer Pyrrho to be blamed for
this tranquil behaviour, which he justified, as a laudable instance of
indifference and want of affection. A fine picture this of Sceptical
friendship!

3 1 6 The Discourses of Epictetus

For a more complete account of the system of Pyrrho, see Diog.
Laert. in his Life. And Lipsius, Manuduct. ad Stoic. Philosoph. ii.
Disc. 3.

[P. 54. "his father died, his mother died": should be "were
transported with sorrow."]

[P. 55. " upon the spot ": should be " proper to the matter in
hand."]

* The translation follows Mr. Upton's reading, rb 0o/3ei<r0cu.

This is spoken in opposition to the Sceptics, who are alluded to
in the beginning of the chapter, and who say that no argument hath
any force.

4 This seems to be said by one of the hearers, who wanted to have
the absurdities of the Sceptics confuted, and guarded against by
regular argument. Epictetus allows this to be right for such as
have abilities and leisure; but recommends to others the more
necessary task of curing their own moral disorders; and insinuates
that the mere common occurrences of life are sufficient to overthrow
the notions of the Pyrrhonists.

CHAPTER XXVIII

1 See note l , c. xviii. I.

[P. 57. Mrs. C. wrongly inserts " right " after each " appeared."]

'The order of the following words is disturbed in the original.
The translation follows Mr. Upton's correction.

[P. 58. " fancy ": appearance.]

CHAPTER XXIX

[P. 59. " admire " : i.e. set value upon.]

1 [Rather: " that it conquers itself, and is not conquered by
another thing " : i.e. opinion only has power over opinion.]

Socrates being asked by Cnto in what manner he would be
buried? answered, As you please; if you can lay hold on me, and I
do not escape from you. Then, smiling, and turning to his friends,
I cannot, says he, persuade Crito that I, who am now disputing and
ranging the parts of my discourse, am Socrates: but he thinks the
corpse, which he will soon behold, to be me; and, therefore, asks
how he must bury me. Plato, in Phad. 64. Forster's edition.

* The two principal accusers of Socrates.

* This is evidently a continuation of the philosopher's answer to
those who reproached him, that his principles had done him no good ;
and therefore is translated in the first person, though it is &<t>4\rj<rat
and frrrcit in the Greek.

[The other speaker says: "Then you got no good in this
respect? " Epicurus replies: " How could you expect it? "]

Notes 3 1 7

1 The meaning of Epictetus in this passage is not clear. If he is
speaking of a voluntary death, which some of his expressions plainly
imply, the instance of Socrates seems improperly chosen: for he
did not kill himself, but was sentenced by the laws of his country :
to which, indeed, he paid so great a reverence, as to refuse all the
assistance which was offered by his friends, in order to his escape.

<t>aw6\y. Lord Shaftesbury [for tv ld6\<?, " as a ghost "].

T [Rather, " Sir." The word was even then used for " master "
or " sir " ; in modern Greek it is the regular title " Mr." See note
on Ench., p. 269.]

[P. 63. " O the injuries," etc. Perhaps rather: " O the guilt of
' educated ' men! "]

[P. 65. " you will see." Mrs. C. has " he " by a blunder.]
The mercenary professors of philosophy at that time.

BOOK II
CHAPTER I

1 This was a kind of scarecrow, formed of different coloured
feathers, by which the animal was terrified, and so driven into the
net, which was the ancient manner of hunting.

1 TrcuSela, in Greek, means nearly the same thing as what we
now call liberal education. It was that sort of education peculiar
to gentlemen that is, such as were free, and of which the slaves
or lower sort of people were forbid to partake according to the
systems of some legislators. Such (as well as I can remember) was
the case among the Lacedemonians, and amongst the ancient
Persians till the time of Cyrus.

It must be observed that the words educated, free, king, and many
others, were taken by the Stoics from common life, and by them
applied solely to the character of their wise and perfect man.

1 " And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you
free." John viii. 32. This is one among many other passages to
the same purpose in that perfect law of liberty, the New Testament.

4 When a slave was to be presented with his freedom, he was
brought before the Consul; and his master, taking him by the hand,
pronounced a certain form of words, and then turned the slave
about, who was thus rendered free. The fine which the master
was to pay on this occasion was applied to the public use. Upton.

* This seems to be spoken by one of the scholars.

No other ancient author mentions Socrates as having written
anything except a hymn to Apollo, and a translation of some fables
of JEsop into verse. Many authors of credit affirm that he wrote
nothing. Therefore Wolfius doubts whether some other name
should not be put here instead of Socrates. Yet the description

3 1 8 The Discourses of Epictetus

most properly belongs to him. And perhaps Epictetus doth not
mean to intimate here that Socrates had published anything, but
that he wrote, when he had no opportunity of discoursing, for his
own improvement. But still, living constantly at Athens, the seat
of philosophical disputation, he cannot be supposed often to have
had that reason for writing.

7 The original here seems corrupt, or inaccurate. I hope the
translation is not far from the true sense.

The Greek is drapaZla, tranquillity : but it seems to be a false
reading for airpaJ-la. 'Arapa^La is the very thing which Epictetus
had been recommending through the whole chapter, and which
makes the subject of the next; and, therefore, cannot be well
supposed to be the true reading in a place where it is mentioned
with contempt.

* For tir\66v perhaps the reading should be dire\06v, and it is
so translated. The person to whom Epictetus speaks was a young
man just leaving the philosophical school.

10 Some English readers, too happy to comprehend how chains,
torture, exile, and sudden executions can be ranked among the
common accidents of life, may be surprised to find Epictetus so
frequently endeavouring to prepare his hearers for them. But it
must be recollected that he addressed himself to persons who lived
under the Roman Emperors, from whose tyranny the very best
men were perpetually liable to such kind of dangers.

CHAPTER II

1 [The various parts of a formal speech.]

* This passage is perplexed in the Greek, and the translation con-
jectural. The meaning seems to be, that where our moral conduct
is concerned, caution is necessary; and courage is necessary in
things not dependent on our own choice, and with which, according
to the Stoic principle, truth and nature have nothing to do.

CHAPTER IV

[P- 73 > 2 - This appears to have been a doctrine of Zeno, and
there may be an allusion to Plato's Republic.']

1 A Stoic philosopher of Tarsus, in Cilicia. Upton.

CHAPTER V

1 The translation follows Mr. Upton's conjecture.

* Socrates professed himself to have a good daemon, and argues
here jocularly from thence that he must believe the existence of a
Deity, as he who believes there are mules must believe there are

Notes 319

asses, because that species enters into the composition of the other.
But there is a play upon the words in the original which cannot be
preserved in the translation. One cannot, I think, help regretting
that Plato should relate, and Epictctus approve, a witticism un-
worthy of the Attic genius; and an instance of levity on so awful a
subject, unbecoming the character of the wise and pious Socrates.
It may, however, be some excuse that he thought neither his
accuser nor his judges deserved, or were likely to be influenced by,
a more serious answer.

8 See i. i. note *.

CHAPTER VI

1 In a speech which Cyrus made to his soldiers after the battle
with the Assyrians, he mentions Chrysantas, one of his captains,
with particular honour for this instance of his obedience. Xenoph.
Cyr. iv. init.

2 npurrd<rets, in Greek, hath a double meaning, which cannot
be preserved in a translation. It signifies both in general, circum-
stances, and in particular, hard circumstances or difficulties.

* Epictetus probably means in the way home from Nicopolis to
Rome, whence this person had come to hear him.

4 Socrates writ a hymn to Apollo when he was in prison of which
Diogenes Laertius recites the first line. See the behaviour of Paul
and Silas on a parallel occasion, Acts xvi. 25.

CHAPTER VII

1 The Stoics were advocates for divination, though they con-
demned what they deemed the abuses of it. The thirty-second
chapter of the Enchiridion is on the same subject.

* A lady of high rank at Rome, banished from Italy, among many
other noble persons, by Domitian.

[P. 80. " bird " has been emended to " augur, diviner " by a
slight change.]

CHAPTER VIII

1 See Introduction, 19.

See i Cor. vi. 19; 2 Cor. vi. 16; 2 Tim. i. 14; i John iii. 24, iv.
12, 13. [Paul had doubtless read the Stoic writers, and he uses
their ideas in his own way.]

2 An allusion to the combatants in the public exercises, who used
to show their shoulders, muscles, and nerves, as a proof of their
strength. See i. iv. 4; n. xviii. 5; in. xxii. 5.

[P. 82. The quotation is from Homer, Iliad, i. 526.]

320 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER IX

[P. 83. A conjunctive proposition contains a number of statements
presented all together as true. The other gives alternatives.]
1 The translation follows Mr. Upton's conjecture.
[Perhaps Jews and Christians are here confused.]

CHAPTER X

1 [Mrs. C. adds " not " with the note: " The true reading of the
Greek is otir OVK tx tv -" But * ms requires ftj. The sense is: the
things do not matter, have them or not.]

* It hath been suggested to me, that StariXfle/j, not 5iari0eJs, is
the true reading; and I have ventured so to translate it. See in.
i- PP- 35 2 353 f Mr. Upton's edition. [But, as SiarfXXw occurs
not elsewhere, and reading it here will make an improper repetition
of nearly the same sense, and diaOcival TWO. signifies to do some-
thing to another, 4. c. 7, p. 628, edit. Upt., and in Lysias, Apol. in
Sim. p. 79, contra Agorat. p. 235, it will be best to preserve the
present reading, and to translate it What doth he lose who makes
him such? T.]

CHAPTER XI

1 For TLVO.S in the Greek, the sense seems to require fyias. [Probably
vd, i.e. " one," " mankind in general."

CHAPTER XII

[P. 91. Hesiod, Theogony, 587.]

CHAPTER XIII

[P. 93. Iliad, xiii. 281.]

1 Antigonus Gonatas, King of Macedon, had so great an esteem
for Zeno that he often took a journey to Athens to visit him, and
endeavoured by magnificent promises to allure him to his court, but
without success. He gave it as a reason for the distinguished
regard which he had paid him, that, though he had made him many
and very considerable offers, Zeno never appeared either mean or
insolent. [Diog. Laert. Zeno, vii.]

1 This is a Stoic extravagance. The very thing that constitutes
the fault of the one in this case is, that he 'makes the other suffer.
However, if instead of vainly affecting insensibility, we extend our

Notes 321

view to the future rewards of those who bear ill treatment as they
ought, the position is true and useful.

* When Diogenes was sailing to ^Egina, he was taken by pirates
and carried to Crete, and there set to sale. Being asked what he
could do, he answered, Govern men : and pointing to a well-dressed
Corinthian who was passing by, Sell me (said he) to him! for he
wants a master. The Corinthian, whose name was Xeniades,
bought him and appointed him the tutor to his children, and
Diogenes perfectly well discharged his trust.

CHAPTER XIV
1 The translation follows Mr. Upton. T

CHAPTER XV

1 Instead of ohroW/iij/Ad rt 6v, the true reading seems to be
and is so translated.

1 The world.

1 The translation here follows Mr. Upton's copy.

4 This probably is spoken in the person of one who is offered
assistance necessary for his support, and refuses it.

CHAPTER XVI

1 As a bribe for bad purposes.

1 The order of this passage should be : Sit down now, and pray
that your nose may not run. Have you not hands, fool? Hath
not God made them for you ? etc. But Epictetus probably might
speak extempore in this inverted manner; and Arnan proposes to
deliver what he said with the greatest exactness.

Sitting, probably some particular sort of it, was anciently (see
Judges xx. 26; i Chr. xvii. 16) one posture of devotion. Our
ancestors in Queen Elizabeth's time called kneeling, sitting on their
knees. A mixed posture of sitting and kneeling is now used by
some nations in prayer.

*See i. vi. note *.

The heathen had certain temples in which it was usual for
persons to sleep in order to receive oracles by dreams. One of the
most celebrated places appropriated to this purpose was the Temple
of Amphiaraus. See Philostratus, p. 771. [This translation omits
oi'/c, " not."]

Mr. Upton conjectures this to be an allusion to some poetical
or rhetorical description. [Perhaps the " rock " is the Acropolis,
the " bits of stone statues or decorative marbles.]

322 The Discourses of Epictetus

Brief summaries of any science, for the use of beginners, are
often so called.

Perhaps the true reading should be 0iXo<ro0faj, Philosophy.

The sense of the original phrase, " an ox's belly," is obscure to
me. The French translation hath " in your cradle." [Probably
here is an allusion to the proverb cited by Wolfius, tirl ptpo-r)*
ica0{e<T0ai, of which see Suidas. T. " The most solemn mode of
appeal among the Scythians."]

10 Two famous robbers who infested Attica, and were at last
killed by Theseus. Upton.

CHAPTER XVII

1 See n. xi. i.

1 1.0. the topic of the Desires and Aversions.

8 There are several readings and conjectures. I have followed
Wolfius, who reads for d<rrwy, dcrfJ<rru>j, as agreeing best with the
sense.

4 The Pseudomenos was a famous problem among the Stoics, and
it is this. When a person says, I he ; doth he lie, or doth he not ?
If he lies, he speaks truth; if he speaks truth, he lies. The philo-
sophers composed many books on this difficulty. Chrysippu^
wrote six. Philetas wasted himself to death in studying to answer
it. Menage on Diog. Laert. h. 108. Brucker, Hist. Crit. Philos.
vol. i. pp. 613, 614. [Pseudomenos means the Liar.]

* This is spoken by Epictetus in the person of one of his scholars,
to ridicule their complimenting each other on their writings, while
they neglected the more important concern of moral improvements.

oi det should be ff 5et.

CHAPTER XVIII

1 Hardened against proper reflections.

2 These several facts are here supposed to be recollected at
different times.

3 In this place, and the following lines, the original mentions
particular forms of argument which are now little understood, and
could not be at all instructive to the English reader.

[P. 109. Plato, Laws, ix. p. 854.]

* Hercules is said to have been the author of the gymnastic
games, and the first victor. Those who afterwards conquered in
wrestling, and the Pancratium, were numbered from him. Upton.

* Mr. Upton inserts pi/ofa-eis, which he conjectures should be
i/i/nfa-as, into the text, from his manuscript; where, probably, it
was written merely by an accident of the transcriber's casting his

Notes 323

eye upon that word in the next line. The sense needs not this
addition, and perhaps doth better without it. [The translation
assumes " boxers," etc., to be vocative. They are the object of
vu-^cray. " The conqueror of all, not of boxers only."]

6 This pompous title was given to those who had been victors in
all the Olympic games.

[P. 109. Hesiod, Works and Days, 411.]

CHAPTER XIX

1 The curious reader may see this whole matter explained with
the greatest acuteness and accuracy, by the very learned and
ingenious Mr. Harris, in Mr. Upton's notes.

1 This is spoken to Epictetus by one of his hearers.

With Mr. Upton, I read ovdtv, but it seems necessary that ovdt
should likewise stand, and it is so translated. [The text means:
" No, I was not born . . ."]

4 Some philosophers affected to show their learning at such times,
and it is against this idle ostentation that Epictetus points his dis-
course; for the study of logic itself, under proper regulations, he
often strongly recommends.

This I apprehend to be spoken by one of the scholars of Epic-
tetus, who seeing the contempt with which his master treats logical
subtleties in the foregoing paragraph, desires him to discourse upon
Ethics. [The quotation is from Horn. Od. ix. 39.]

Epictetus gives this absurd reply to ridicule the fondness of his
scholars for quoting authors, and making a parade of their reading;
and insinuates that it is not at all material whether a person, who
on such subjects means nothing further than talk, knows what he is
talking of, or blunders about it ever so grossly.

7 Of things into good, evil, and indifferent.

The Peripatetics held other things besides virtue to be good ;
but not in near so high a degree.

See II. xvi. note *.

CHAPTER XX

1 A New Testament word.

2 When the Athenians found themselves unable to resist the forces
of the Persians, they left their city, and having removed their wives
and children and their movable effects to Troezen and Salamis, went
on board their ships, and defended the liberty of Greece by their
fleet.

8 What follows is against the Academics, who denied the evidence
of the senses.

324 The Discourses of Epictetus

By these terms the Stoics meant intelligent powers, joining to
bring the fruits of the earth to maturity, and to carry on the course
of nature.

These seem to be the words of the Academic, desirous of begin-
ning a dispute with Epictetus, to revenge himself, by puzzling him,
for the severe things which he had been saying against that sect.
But Epictetus refuses to enter into it, and gives his reason.

I have followed Mr. Upton's addition of al<rxp6v ; but perhaps,
even Ka\6v may be an addition, first arising from writing ^ /ca/trf?
twice over.

7 This resembles what our Saviour saith to the Jewish rulers :
" Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and the harlots go into
the kingdom of God before you." Matt. xxi. 31.

CHAPTER XXI

1 Mr. Upton's copy.

* We have no expression exactly like that in the Greek. The
translation comes the nearest to it of any I could think on.

* This seems to be spoken by Epictetus to one of his scholars.

4 The Greek is pointed at d7ro$e/w, but the sense requires the
stop at vw.

CHAPTER XXII

1 Admetus, King of Thessaly, being destined to die, Apollo
obtained a reversal of his sentence from the Fates, on condition
that some person could be found to die in his stead. Admetus
tried all his friends, and among the rest his father, Pheres; but no
one chose to be his representative but his wife, Alcestis. After her
death, Pheres is introduced preparing honours for her funeral, and
condoling with his son on her loss. Admetus rejects his presents
with great indignation, and makes him the severest reproaches on
his cowardice and mean-spiritedness, in not parting with a few
remaining years of life to save his son from an untimely death, and
in suffering Alcestis to descend to the grave for him in the bloom of
youth. The quotation made by Epictetus is part of the answer of
Pheres to the reproaches of his son. [Euripides, Alcestis, 691.]

1 The original quotes some verses from Euripides, of a dialogue
between Eteocles and Polynices before the walls of Thebes, of which
the translation gives the general sense. [Phcsniss&, 723.]

1 See Matt. xii. 50.

By self is here meant the proper good, or as Solomon expresses
it, Eccl. xii. 13, " the whole of man." The Stoic proves excellently
the inconvenience of placing this in anything but a right choice (a
right disposition and behaviour) ; but how it is the interest of each

Notes 325

individual, in every case, to make that choice in preference to
present pleasure, and in defiance of present sufferings, appears only
from the doctrine of a future recompense.

1 Perhaps 66<ru, in the Greek, should be diddo<ris.

* Amphiaraus married Eriphyle, the sister of Adrastus, King of
Argos. He was an excellent soothsayer; and, by his skill, foresaw
that it would prove fatal to him if he engaged himself in the Theban
war. Wherefore, to avoid inevitable destruction, he hid himself,
but was discovered by his wife Eriphyle, whom Polynices had
corrupted with the present of a golden chain. Statius, Thebais, vi.

1 Mr. Upton's copy. [The Greek means: " so are serpents."]

CHAPTER XXIII

1 These are the words of Epictetus, to which there are others
equivalent afterwards. His meaning probably is, that the value
and usefulness of the faculty of elocution ought not to be denied, in
opposition to the doctrine of Epicurus, who declared all the liberal
arts and sciences to be useless and mischievous. See Diog. Laert.
x. 6, and Menage's notes there.

1 He proves the timidity at the beginning of 3.

* It was an old notion, that vision was performed by the emission
of rays from the eye to the object, not the admission of rays from
the object into the eye, and to this Epictetus here refers.

4 Mr. Upton gives a different sense to */>eicr<r<5i>a, but I think that
ird\iv, and what afterwards follows, justifies the English translation.
[The meaning probably is: " do not forget other things which are
superior to these."]

See i. i.

- The hearer is understood in this place to say, The faculty of
Choice. It is not improbable, however, that the Greek word
irpoaLpcriic/i may have been omitted in transcribing.

7 Celebrated treatises on these subjects, composed by Epicurus.

1 These words are part of a letter written by Epicurus, when he
was dying, to one of his friends. See Diog. Laert. x. 22.

f Probably for irpoatperiKris should be read opart*?/* , which word
is used by Epictetus but a little more than a page before. [Others
suggest <f>pa(rriKT}s, " of speech."]

10 Mr. Upton's reading ty frvxe.

CHAPTER XXIV
1 2 Cor. ii. 1 6.
1 See John viii. 43.

1 KarA ir6<T<>v, -jrcpl row, should be /cari tr6<rw irtpl roiJrou. There is
M44

326 The Discourses of Epictetus

no need of altering rd, c&ra rerpij^va. " Opening the ear " is a
phrase of Scripture. Job xxxiii. 16, xxxvi. 10; Isa. xlii. 20; Mark
vii. 34, 35. And even digging open the ear, Ps. xl. 6 in the Hebrew.

4 AOKWI> fitv rts elvcu, &v 6'o5$e(s, is very near to SOKCI elvai re, pySiv
&v, Gal. vi. 3. There is a similar expression of Plato* at the end
of the Apology of Socrates.

[P. 129. The verse is from Homer, Iliad, ii. 25.]

CHAPTER XXVI

1 " For that which I do, I allow not: for what I would, that do I
not; but what I hate, that I do." Rom. vii. 15.
8 See i . xviii. note x .
8 See xii. 2.

4 Something here is lost in the original. The translation hath
connected the sense in the best and shortest manner it could.

BOOK III
CHAPTER I

1 These are the names of combatants in the Olympic games. A
Pancratiast was one who united the exercises of wrestling and box-
ing : a Pentathlete, one who contended in all the five games of leap-
ing, running, throwing the discus, darting, and wrestling.

1 Epictetus had been before considering the propriety of his own
character as a philosopher: but, according to Mr. Upton's very
probable conjecture, the translation must be would it not be
cruel, etc.

8 Polemo was a profligate young rake of Athens, and even dis-
tinguished by the dissoluteness of his manners. One day after a
riotous entertainment, he came reeling, with a chaplet on his head,
into the school of Xenocrates. The audience were greatly offended
at his scandalous appearance: but the philosopher went on with-
out any emotion, in a discourse upon temperance and sobriety.
Polemo was so struck by his arguments, that he soon threw away his
chaplet, and from that time became a disciple of Xenocrates, and
profited so well by his instructions that he afterwards succeeded
him in the Socratic school.

4 Laius, King of Thebes, petitioned Apollo for a son. The
oracle answered him, that if Laius became a father, he should perish
by the hand of his son. The prediction was fulfilled by (Edipus.
Upton.

[P. 134. See Plato, Apology of Socrates, chapters i and 7.]
8 See Book i. chapter ii. 3.

Notes 327

1 The bare use of objects belongs to all animals: a rational use of
them is peculiar to man. ' See Introduction, 7.

7 " For it is not ye that speak, but the spirit of your Father which
speaketh in you." Matt. x. 20.

8 This passage hath a remarkable likeness to Heb. i. I, 2. " God,
who at sundry times, and in divers manners, spake in times past
unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken
unto us by his Son ..."

[P. 136. From Homer, Od. i. 37. Mrs. Carter omits most of the
quotation, which runs thus: " We warned him ourselves before-
hand, and sent Hermes the Watcher, he who slew Argus, that he
slay not the man nor wed his wife."]

CHAPTER II

[P. 137. If irpoK6\f/ovra be read in the title, it means: " he who
is to improve."]

1 See Introduction, 3,4, 5,6.

[P. 137. After " hypothetical propositions," add " lying."]

* Extending the middle finger, with the ancients, was a mark of
the greatest contempt.

8 Crinis was a Stoic philosopher. The circumstances of his death
are not now known.

CHAPTER HI
[P. 140. " Principle ": the word also means " opinion."]

CHAPTER IV

[P. 141. title- rather " one who showed his partisan feeling too
strongly."]

1 The name of a player. Upton.

CHAPTER V

1 The Greek title to this chapter is defective: vovrbv seems to be
the word wanting; or, if SiairXdrrw signifies, to pretend, as irXdrrw
doth, the true reading of the text may be, ir/)6s TOI)J i>6<rov SunrXar-
TOfA^vovs. [But a much better and almost certain conjecture is to
read dTraXXarro/i^ouy instead of rXarro^i/ofy ; and then the translation
will be Concerning those who return, or were returning, home on
account of sickness. T.]

[P. 142. "be a bad governor " . the Greek means "... be a
governor; being bad, you will do badly," etc.]

* p{. ?rt, probably should be, <?.^. rl n.

328 The Discourses of Epictetus

[P. 143. " Socrates ": a reference to Xen. Mem. i, 6, 14.]
[P. 144. "in love": the translation* omits "with a beautiful
girl."]

CHAPTER VI

1 By changing rCiv into TTWS, and, as Mr. Upton proposes, ^repov
into Tp6rpov t the whole difficulty of this corrupted passage is
removed.

[P. 144. " Rufus ": see Book i. i.]

CHAPTER VII

1 The translation follows Lord Shaftesbury's correction of
for d^atfots, which seems absolutely necessary to the sense of the
passage.

* The translation follows the reading of Wolfius, ^TIP&I.

8 Of Symphorus and Numenius there is no account, and their
names serve only to show that persons once of such power are now
totally forgot.

CHAPTER IX

I The first u>s I apprehend should be u>, and is so translated.

I 1 can find no sense of dvaXtfere, which suits thi& place. Perhaps
the reading should be 4) dpa, Xoi/e<r0e, and it is so translated. Bathing
was a common amusement of idle people. See iii. 24, p. 495 of
Mr. Upton's edition. [A better emendation is dXtfere, " you wander
distraught."]

" And how they quaff in gold,
Crystal and myrrhine cups, emboss' d with gems."

Paradise Regained, iv. v. 118.

CHAPTER X

[P. 15. From the Golden Verses of Pgthagoras.]

1 This place is either corrupt, as Mr. Upton thinks, or alludes to
some ancient custom not sufficiently understood now. [The mean-
ing seems to be, a mere formal repetition.]

This is a corrupt passage, and the translation conjectural.
Perhaps the true reading might be TTOV WOT* &ire\86vTa TOV <r,uarJou
Set &irc\0iv fie, and it is so translated. There is a similar turn of
expression in the fifth chapter of the second book, which seems to
favour this notion. See i. p. 189 of Mr. Upton's edition.

* [The translation should be: " There you may leave off and
spare yourself the buffets."]

Notes 329

4 St. Paul hath made use of this very expression ?o/tfytws &6\eiv,
2 Tim. ii. 5.

1 See Matt. viii. 2, Kijpie, tkv QtXys, 8uva<ral fie Kaffaplorai. Upton.

#<iou, in the Greek, seems to have crept in from the preceding
<oe?<r0ai, therefore it is omitted in the translation. [But probably
it should be changed into ir60ov, and the translation be What
occasion for anger, for desire . . . These two Greek words are
confounded elsewhere. And the same alteration seems needful in
Porphyr. de Abst. i. 2. T.]

CHAPTER XI
[P. 154. Homer, Odyssey, xv. 55.]

CHAPTER XII

1 A tree remarkable for its being straight and high. I should
imagine, therefore, that to set up the palm-tree meant some act
of dexterity, not unlike, perhaps, to that of our modern balance-
masters, and that the artist not only set up, but ascended to its
top, and there exhibited himself in various attitudes. What con-
firms me in this notion is, that these palm-tree artists are joined
with the rope-dancers; their professions being alike formed on the
difficulty and danger. In Lucian's treatise de Syria Dea, we meet
with these men under the name of the QoivucopaTovvret, who, it
seems, were frequent in Arabia and Syna; countries where the
palm is known to flourish. [De Dea Syria, chap. 29.]

f Diogenes used in winter to grasp statues when they were covered
with snow, as an exercise, to inure himself to hardship. Diogenes
Laertius.

* &v drux^w is variously read. Perhaps the right word may
be dvarotxtiffw, derived from TOIXO* ; which signifies, among other
things, the side of a ship or boat. It appears from Julius Pollux
and Phrynichus, in Stephens's Lexicon , and Scot's Appendix, that
dvarotxetv is a word used by the vulgar, to signify being sometimes
on one side of the vessel, and sometime on the other, which agrees
very well here: I will lean to the opposite side, etc., i.e. to keep the
vessel even. I am obliged for this note to a friend. [He is sen-
sible, however, that bvaroixw is not exactly to throw one's self on
one side, and stands condemned by Phrynichus, as a low expres-
sion. T.]

4 These particulars are not now understood; but show, in general,
that the ancient philosophers had their absurd and ostentatious
austerities and mortifications, as well as the monks and Indian
philosophers since.

[P. 155. " ticket ": vfothitM or tessera: see Polybius, vi. 36.]

330 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XIII

1 The Stoics held successive conflagrations at destined periods,
in which all beings were resorbed into the Deity.

*The Greek, from ^pew o&v Set to QBurucf, is so corrupted and
unintelligible that it is totally rejected. Indeed, the connection
of this paragraph with what precedes is by no means clear.

CHAPTER XV

1 This fifteenth chapter makes the twenty-ninth of the Enchiri-
dion, but with some varieties of reading. Particularly, for tv r<
ayuvt. TrapopfoffecrQai here, is e/s rbv &y&va irap^px e "^ at there.

This chapter hath 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.

8 St. Paul hath a similar allusion to the public games. I Cor. ix.
25. Both writers have them frequently in view.

* Which was the case in any violation of the laws of the games.

4 The translation doth not follow the pointing of Mr. Upton's
edition in this place.

Euphrates was a philosopher of Syria, whose character is de-
scribed with the highest encomiums by Pliny. See i. Ep. x.

8 TCLVTO. in this place should be ravrd.

* What is omitted at the end of this chapter is placed at the end
of the seventeenth, to which Lord Shaftesbury thinks it belongs, or
to one of the miscellaneous chapters, which is the more probable
opinion.

CHAPTER XVI

1 The translation follows Mr. Upton's conjecture, Set. cl
etc.

* ^ifarw, Mr. Upton's manuscript.

CHAPTER XVII

' But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed,"
What then ? Is the reward of virtue bread ?
That vice may merit, 'tis the price of toil;
The knave deserves it when he tills the soil,
The knave deserves it when he tempts the main.

Essay on Man, iv.

Notes 331

1 This person is not known. One of his name is mentioned in the
Acts of Ignatius, as being consul at the time when he suffered
martyrdom.

CHAPTER XX

1 The passage, as it now stands in the Greek, is scarcely intelli-
gible. The difficulty is removed by reading ayaObv for dwarfy, and
the translation follows this conjecture. [Or we may suppose arrarfy
to be a gloss or a casual repetition of the same word occurring m
the line before; and so translate, there exists the knowledge,
etc. T.]

The son of Creon, who killed himself after he had been informed,
by an oracle, that his death would procure a victory to the Thebans.
Apollodorus. Upton.

See Book n. xxii. note l (p. 324).
4 o\nro3 for o0rws. Wolfius.

1 For deify ff tpyy, fct'^T/s tpyy seems the true reading.

Mr. Upton conjectures this Lesbius to have been some buffoon.

CHAPTER XXI

1 The translation follows the conjecture of Wolfius,
There are other difficulties m the text as it now stands,
perhaps, should be ^'e/u^<retj ; or probably there should be no ^
before tfcptffrjt ; and then the meaning of Epictetus will be, that
the persons whom he is speaking of ought first to concoct proposi-
tions for their own use, and then throw them up (i.e. utter them in
discourse) for the use of others. But the figure he makes use of is
so dirty, that it is not to be enlarged upon, though taken from the
practice of the Greek and Roman physicians.

* The priest who presided over the Eleusinian mysteries was
called Hierophantes ; i.e. a revealer of sacred things. He was
obliged to devote himself to divine service, and lead a chaste and
single life. He was attended by three officers: a torch-bearer, a
herald, and one who assisted at the altar. For a fuller account of
the Eleusinian mysteries, see Potter's Grecian Antiquities, i. 20.

8 The girdle is mentioned among the holy garments of the Levi-
tical priests. Exod. xxviii. 4, 39, 40, etc.

CHAPTER XXII

1 The Cynics owed their original to Antisthenes, a disciple of
Socrates. They held virtue to be the highest good, and the end of
life; and treated riches, honours, and power with great contempt.
They were enemies to science and polite literature, and applied

332 The Discourses of Epictetus

themselves wholly to the study of morality. There was in many
respects great conformity between them and the Stoics; but the
Stoics selected what seemed laudable in their principles, without
imitating the roughness of their address and the detestable in-
decency of their external behaviour. The Stoics were indeed a
reformed branch of the Cynics, and thence, perhaps, spoke of them
somewhat more favourably than they might otherwise have done.
The Cynics are said to have derived their name from Cynosarges, a
gymnasium without the walls of Athens, where Antisthenes taught,
and which was so called from the accident of a white dog stealing
part of a victim which Diomus was sacrificing to Hercules; and
their barking at everybody, and their want of shame, helped to
confirm the appellation. In this Cynosarges was a celebrated
temple of Hercules, which, very possibly, gave the Cynics the
original hint of comparing themselves to that hero, which they so
much affected.

a " And no man taketh this honour unto himself, but he that is
called of God." Heb. v. 4.

* This hath a remarkable likeness to Matt. xxiv. 50, 51, especially
in the originals.

* i.e. run away.

' For \oitiopew read \ot5opwv. Upton.

* The sense seems to require that ical should be nard, and is so
translated.

7 See Book i . xxiv. note *.

I The translation follows Lord Shaftesbury's conjecture.
Unknown persons, probably of great bodily strength.

[P. 171. Homer, Iliad, x. 15. 91.]

10 Were conquerors deeply to consider how much more happens
than the mere separation of soul and body, they would not, for
increase of dominion, or a point of false honour, push thousands at
once into an unknown eternity.

II We find this phrase often used by the inspired writers to
describe the office and duty of a king or ruler. And the most tender
and affectionate compassion is implied in it, Isaiah xl. n, where it
is said of the King of kings, " He shall feed his flock like a shepherd;
he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom,
and shall gently lead those that are with young." He accordingly
applies this distinguishing character to himself in several places of
the New Testament, especially John x. n, 14, 15, 16.

Homer speaks of Agamemnon by this name (which we see was
not unusual in the East) to express his authority and care; but
Epictetus applies it as a term of reproach, to imply ignorance and
meanness of spirit. One cannot help observing, on what is here
said of Agamemnon, the selfishness of the Stoic doctrine ; which, as
it all along forbids pity and compassion, will have even a king to
look upon the welfare of his people, and a general on the preserva-
tion of his soldiers, as matters quite foreign and indifferent to him.

Notes 333

lf It is observable that Epictetus seems to think it a necessary
qualification in a teacher, sent from God for the instruction of man-
kind, to be destitute of all external advantages, and a suffering
character. Thus doth this excellent man, who had carried human
reason to so great a height, bear testimony to the propriety of that
method which the divine wisdom hath thought fit to follow in the
scheme of the gospel, whose great author had not where to lay his
head ; and which some, in later ages, have inconsiderately urged as
an argument against the Christian religion. The infinite disparity
between the proposal of the example of Diogenes in Epictetus, and
of our Redeemer in the New Testament, is too obvious to need any
enlargement.

w The translation follows Mr. Upton's conjecture of xtrwApiov
instead of irpairwpldiov.

14 Compare this with the Christian precepts of forbearance and
love to enemies, Matt. v. 39-44. The reader will observe that
Christ specifies higher injuries and provocations than Epictetus
doth, and requires of all his followers what Epictetus describes only
as the duty of one or two extraordinary persons, as such.

15 St. Jerome, cited by Mr. Upton, gives the following somewhat
different account of this matter. Diogenes, as he was going to the
Olympic games, was taken with a fever, and laid himself down in the
road; his friends would have put him into some vehicle; but he
refused it, and bid them go on to the show. " This night," said he,
" I will either conquer, or be conquered. If I conquer the fever, I
will come to the games; if it conquers me, I will descend to Hades."
[Jerome, adv. Jovianum ii.]

1 The Stoics directed this, and the Epicureans forbade it.

17 It is remarkable that Epictetus here uses the same word
(d7repKnrd<rrw$) with St. Paul, i Cor. vii. 35, and urges the same
consideration, of applying wholly to the service of God, to dissuade
from marriage. His observation too, that the state of things was
then (w 4v irapa.rdd) like that of an army prepared for battle,
nearly resembles the apostle's (Ipfarwra dvdyKij) " present neces-
sity." St. Paul says, 2 Tim. ii. 4. (ouSeZs <rTparcv6iJLvos ^/airX^/cerat,
etc.), no man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of
this life. So Epictetus says here that a Cynic must not be (^tTeTrAe-y-
ptvov) entangled in relations, etc. From these and many other
passages of Epictetus, one would be inclined to think that he was
not unacquainted with St. Paul's Epistles; or that he had heard
something of the Christian doctrine. Yet see Introduction, 40.

11 KK\clcrai should be ^Xeterat, and is so translated.

[P. 175. Iliad, ii. 25.]

l * &fflri)(rov. Upton. Wolfius.

* Crates was a Theban of birth and fortune, who was so charmed
by the appearance of Telephus, in the character of a dirty, ragged
beggar, upon the stage, that he gave away all his estate, assumed
the wallet and staff, and turned Cynic. Hipparchia, a Thracian
lady, was so affected by the discourses and manners of this polite
*M44

334 The Discourses of Epictetus

philosopher, that she fell desperately in love with him ; and neither
the riches, beauty, or distinction of others who paid their addresses
to her were able to rival him in her heart. Her relations vainly
endeavoured to oppose her inclination; she was deaf to all their
remonstrances; and even threatened to kill herself, unless she was
suffered to marry Crates. At the desire of her family, he tried
himself to dissuade her from this scheme. He pointed out to her
the deformity of his person; and throwing down his wallet and
staff before her, told her these were all the riches she was to expect,
and that his wife must pursue the same course of life as he did ; and
desired her to consider of it. But no consideration was able to shake
her resolution. She married him, and became as absolute a Cynic
as himself, utterly disregarding all external propriety and decency.
See Diog. Laertius, in their Lives.

81 Mr. Upton's reading.

" Danaus and Egyptus were the sons of Belus. Danaus had
fifty daughters, who, from their grandfather, were called Belides;
and Egyptus fifty sons. After a quarrel between the two brothers,
a reconciliation was agreed, upon condition of a marriage between
their children. But Danaus having learnt from an oracle that he
was to be killed by one of his sons-in-law, commanded his daughters
to murder their husbands, and furnished them with daggers for
that purpose. They all, except one, executed this cruel order.
The poets represent them as punished in the infernal regions by an
everlasting unavailing attempt to fill a sieve with water.

Aeolus was the father of Sisyphus, who, for his infamous robberies,
was killed by Theseus, and, after his death, condemned in Tartarus
to roll continually a vast stone up a hill.

[P. 175. " Cynics dogs ": the Greek word is the same for both
Cynic and dog.]

[Pp. 176-7. Refer to Diogenes Laertius vi. 42; Homer, Iliad, ii.
54-5; Epictetus n. xxiii.]

[P. 178. Homer, Iliad, vi. 490.]

CHAPTER XXIII

1 See note *, p. 326.

Mr. Upton observes that these florid descriptions were the
principal study of the Sophists.

* Dion was a Greek writer of those times, called for his eloquence
Chrysostom, or golden-mouthed; as one of the Fathers of the
Church was afterwards.

4 The sense seems absolutely to require that the latter ofo-os
should be either expunged or changed into roDro. [Or perhaps,
rather the former oCros should be left out. T.]

* These words are the beginning of Xenophon's Memoirs of
Socrates, and it was a debate among the minute critics whether

Notes 335

argument or arguments was the proper reading. Upton. [rl<ri
\6yots or rii'i Xctyy ]

6 It might be usual for persons of fashion to lend their houses for
sophists and orators to declaim in. Upton. [The passage seems
to mean: Socrates did not ask all who consulted him to go and
hear him speak, and to praise him. The words " Hear " to " Quad-
ratus " are what some one might have said in Epictetus' days.
Quadratus is unknown, and is perhaps any name taken at random.]

[P. 180. " Socrates": Plato, Apology, 17, c.]

1 St. James uses the same word when he saith, " Faith without
works is dead."

CHAPTER XXIV

1 There is no need of Salmasius's change of dvrl nvos, etc. to
avTiTdvets, etc., if for M rl K\$S one reads ^Trt/cX^s. The n might
arise from a mistake in writing TTL twice over. ^/cXaerei/ is used in
the same sense in xxvi. 3, p. 527 of Mr. Upton's edition. If *Xdo;
hath it, the present reading may stand. [" Why, and for what
cause, dost thou weep? "]

[Pp. 183-4. The Greek references are i. 3, xvii. 487.]

* rb ybp fi>5aifj.ovovv dirtx**" &*? tr^vra A $\ei, ireirXTjpufjLtiHf) nvl touctvai.
This bears a strong resemblance to dirt^u $t irdvra jcai Tre/novetfa;,
Tre7rX-J/>w/xat, etc. Phil. iv. 18.

8 The Greek should be pointed, {vov, 0eo/uax<>0'Tos.
4 An allusion to Homer.

The translation here follows a conjecture of Wolfius; who
reads for evirelOcia.?, evTrdOetav. The same word occurs in iv. 3,
p. 582 of Mr. Upton's edition, and is there translated in the same
manner.

The translation here follows Mr. Upton's conjecture in his
Addenda.

7 This figure is frequently used both by sacred and profane
authors. See Job, vii. i, Eph. vi. 12, i Pet. ii. n, etc. Vivere
militare est: Life is a state of war. Sen. Epist. 96, etc.

Instead of dXX* del jSovXeur^s, the true reading, perhaps, is dXXA
el ovXevr?fc, and it is translated accordingly. [Yet possibly the

present reading may stand, and be translated, But your life is a
perpetual magistracy. T.]

' The conjecture of Wolfius (di/ao-r^vou) is a good one, and the
translation hath followed it.

10 What follows hath no connection with what immediately pre-
ceded, but belongs to the general subject of the chapter.

11 The change of the persons in these discourses is often so sudden
that it is difficult to discover the speaker; and one can judge only
from the general sense. The translator hath endeavoured to give

336 The Discourses of Epictetus

this passage the turn which seems most agreeable to the context,
without adhering very literally to the several words in the Greek.
Epictetus in this paragraph personates the scholar, whom he is
exhorting to visit a great man.

11 This refers to a former part of the chapter.

18 Here what was said before about going to a great man is again
resumed.

" At Athens.

11 It was the custom at Athens, in cases where no fixed punish-
ment was appointed by the law, before the judges gave sentence, to
ask the criminal himself what penalty he thought he deserved.
Socrates refused either to comply with this form himself, or suffer
any of his friends to do it for him: alleging that the naming a
penalty was a confession of guilt. When the judges, therefore,
asked him what penalty he thought he deserved, he answered,
" The highest honours and rewards, and to be maintained in the
Prytaneum at the public expense." An answer which so extremely
irritated his judges, that they immediately condemned him to
death. Plato, Apology, s. fin.

16 A people towards the extremity of Greece.

17 Diogenes was the disciple of Antisthenes. Compare what
Diogenes says of Antisthenes making him free, with John viii.
32-3<5.

18 Instead of dvetvat, the sense seems to require drta?, and it
is so translated. [Not necessary: the text means " relax, leave
unhindered."]

lf See Enchiridion, iii.

" The translation here follows Mr. Upton's conjecture. & auroZs
olffTuri, etc.

M The translation follows Mr. Upton's transposition of OK. The
meaning of the passage is, that though the personal existence is
dissolved and destroyed by death, the substance out of which it
was produced remains under some other form, which was the Stoic
doctrine. [The text may stand: " You will not (be as you are),
but you will be something else, which the world now needs," " now "
being at the supposed time of dissolution.]

M direiflwv. Wolfius.

M This was said by Xenophon, when news was brought him that
his son Gryllus was killed in a battle.

u Compare this with the description of the universal care of
Providence, Matt. x. 29, 30, and the occasion on which it was
introduced.

CHAPTER XXV

1 It was a sport among the Greeks to put quails in a circular
space, like our cockpits, and use various ways of trying their
courage. If the quail ran away out of the pit, its master lost.

Notes 337

An allusion to the Pythian, Isthmian, Nemean, and Olympic
games. The persons who were victorious in all these were distin-
guished by a particular name, signifying that they had been con-
querors through the whole circle of the games. Upton.

CHAPTER XXVI

1 Compare this chapter with the beautiful and affecting dis-
courses of our Saviour on the samo subject, Matt. vi. 25-34, Luke
xii. 22-30.

1 See Introduction, 6.

' Cleanthes was a Stoic philosopher, the disciple and successor of
Zeno. He used to draw water for his livelihood all night, and study
all day. He was so poor that for want of proper materials he used
to write down what he had heard from his master Zeno on tiles and
pieces of bone. The physicians ordered him for a swelling in his
gums to abstain two days from food, with which he complied.
When he was recovered they gave him leave to return to his usual
diet, which he refused ; and saying he was now far advanced on his
journey, starved himself to death. Diog. Laert.

4 Eurystheus.

[P. 198. Homer, Odyssey ; vi. 130.]

The sense would be better if we read rfc <iX<xro^as, of philosophy.
[Or rou <f>i\off6<f>ov may mean, of the philosophic principle. T.]

The name of a slave, particularly of a slave who once belonged
to Diogenes. [The slave ran away, and Diogenes would not hunt
for him. He said, If Manes can live without Diogenes, surely
Diogenes can live without Manes. Diog. Laert. Life of Diogenes,
55-]

BOOK IV
CHAPTER I

1 " Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin." John viii.
34-

1 " They answered him, We be Abraham's seed, and were never
in bondage to any man: how sayest thou, Ye shall be made free? "
John viii. 33.

Mr. Upton's copy transposes many pages of this chapter to
their right place, which in others were joined to the last chapter of
the third book.

4 A character in one of the comedies of Menander, called The
Hated Lover.

5 The name of a slave.

338 The Discourses of Epictetus

6 Wolfius, very rightly, for Ka\ki> reads /caK<Jj>.

7 See note *, Book n. i. (p. 317).

It seems necessary that tiffcv and tfirou should be 6rav and ^TTWJ,
and they are so translated. [Or the latter &TTOV 0Aw may be a
repetition of the transcriber. T.]

A gold ring was the peculiar ornament of the Roman knights, by
which they were distinguished from the Plebeians. Upton.

10 Something is here wanting in the original.

11 fodXyyTos for &va\^0rfs. Upton. [avaXtfdys, " false," may be
right.]

18 The Stoics held the wise man to be the only real king. Upton.

13 The feast of Saturn, in which the slaves had a liberty of sitting
at table with their masters, in memory of the equality of conditions
under his reign.

"Beasts of burthen and carriages are pressed for the use of
armies when need requires.

15 Epictetus here personates one desirous of recovering the liberty
of the city in which he lives. There were citadels erected from
time to time in Greek cities to support tyrants, and they and the
citadels were destroyed together whenever it could be done.

16 The translation here is agreeable to Mr. Upton's copy.

17 See I. ii. 3-

18 " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away." Job. i. 21.
Mr. Upton's conjecture.

80 See note *, p. 321 (on Book u. xiii.).

81 The translation here follows a different pointing from Mr.
Upton, 7TW5 \tyeis ; u>s Kal <ru. &\KTptiova, etc.

88 This answer implies a silent concession, that it is no paradox to
affirm the evil of everything to consist in what is contrary to its
nature.

88 The translation here follows Mr. Upton's conjecture.

24 There is much obscurity, and some variety of reading, in several
lines of the original in this place, and I am not certain whether the
translation hath given the true sense ; but it is the best I could make
of it. [The contrast is drawn betwixt talk and practice.]

25 Probably some rich old woman from whom the speaker had
expectations.

[P. 214. See Book i. xix.]

84 Epictetus here alludes to his own lameness. See pp. 153 and
170.

87 This passage hath great difficulties in the original. I have
given it what appeared to me the best sense. But I am still doubt-
ful. [For d\ti)i> I have taken the reading of Mr. Upton's copy, d\Auv.
For Archidamas read Archidamus. T.]

Notes 339

18 Socrates, with four other persons, was commanded by the
thirty tyrants of Athens to fetch Leo from the isle of Salamis, in
order to be put to death. His companions executed their commis-
sion, but Socrates remained at home, and chose rather to expose his
life to the fury of the tyrants than be accessory to the death of an
innocent person. He would most probably have fallen a sacrifice
to their vengeance if the oligarchy had not shortly after been dis-
solved. See Plato's Apology.

n Mr. Upton's copy.

[P. 216. " where must they have dwelt? " i.e. they would have
remained behind.]

CHAPTER II

1 Compare this chapter with Matt. vi. 24. " No man can serve
two masters."

[P. 217. " same behaviour," i.e. do a thing just because he does
it.]

See James i. 8,

CHAPTER in

I See in. xxiv. note .

I 1 suspect that rvyx^ vwv should be ou rvyx&vwv, and then the
translation will be, Consider, on the other hand, if you do not get
that, what you obtain instead of it.

8 Probably Epictetus here alludes to the jumping up in the
theatre, in favour of some actor, mentioned in the preceding chapter,
and in the fourth chapter of the third book.

4 Two famous lawyers. This passage is an instance of the manner
of speaking less usual among the Greek and Roman than the
Eastern writers; where enjoining one thing, and forbidding another,
means only that the first should be preferred in case of competition.

CHAPTER IV

1 The readers, perhaps, may grow tired with being so often told,
what they will find it very difficult to believe, that because externals
are not in our own power, they are nothing to us. But, in excuse
for this frequent repetition, it must be considered that the Stoics
had reduced themselves to a necessity of dwelling on this conse-
quence, extravagant as it is, by rejecting stronger aids. One
cannot, indeed, avoid highly admiring the very few who attempted
to amend and exalt themselves on this foundation. No one.
perhaps, ever carried the attempt so far in practice, and no one ever
spoke well in support of the argument, a$ Epictetus. Yet not-

34 The Discourses of Epictetus

withstanding his great abilities, and the force of his example, one
finds him strongly complaining of the want of success; and one
sees from this circumstance, as well as from many others in the
Stoic writings, that virtue cannot be maintained in the world
without the hope of a future reward.

* T<5re perhaps should be vert, and is so translated.

1 The Olympic champions used to rub themselves with dust and
sand, which, as they were anointed, was necessary to give them the
better hold on each other. See Mr. Upton's note on in. 15, p. 419,
1. 10.

The translation follows the conjecture of Wolfius.

CHAPTER V

1 Perhaps for *># oOr& rt should be read xiv^rai oSros, and the
translation follows this conjecture. [The text makes sense : " should
commence some action."]

1 Like Hercules and Diogenes. See in. xii. note *.

" An allusion to a passage in Euripides [Crcsphontes, frag. 449,
Nauck]. The general sense of which is, that we ought to lament
the person who is born, from a consideration of the evils into which
he is coming, and to rejoice over the dead, who is at rest from his
labours. Upton.

There is an account in Herodotus of a people of Thrace, who used
to assemble and condole with a family where any one was born,
and, on the contrary, express great joy and congratulation wherever
there happened a death, v. 4.

*Nero being declared an enemy by the senate, his coin was, in
consequence of this, prohibited and destroyed.

[P. 226. " wax " : r6 Kfyivov, i.e. " the wax apple."]

The name of some animal would suit better here than the

epithet Axp^^ *- But x^os> a hog, is a word too unlike, and I

can think of no better.

Alcibiades sent a fine great cake as a present to Socrates, which
so provoked the jealousy of the meek Xanthippe, that she threw it
down and stamped upon it. Socrates only laughed, and said, " Now
you will have no share in it yourself." Upton from ^Elian. [xi. 1 2.
See for the rest Diog. Laert. Socrates.'}

[P. 227; "Lions, etc.," a proverb on the Lacedaemonians who
fell in Asia. ]

CHAPTER VI

1 The text here is either corrupt or very elliptical and obscure,
and the translation conjectural. &vu> xdru hath the same sense in
the next page but one, which is assigned to it here. The *ai before

Notes 341

is omitted, as being probably a corruption of the last
syllable of the preceding word, written twice over. Mr. Upton's
MS. cuts the difficulty short by leaving out several words; in con-
sequence of which, the translation would be: How is it, then, that
you have not yet brought yourself to learn to be exempt, etc. [But
this omission was probably owing to the transcribers skipping from
/xafleZV to the like word pavO&vfiv. Possibly, instead of leaving
out Kal, we should rather suppose that something before it is left
out. And in all likelihood the true translation of vvv ofyl &vw drw,
instead of, Should not you, etc., is the following: Is not this, i.e.
undertaking to convince others instead of yourself, inverting the
order of things? T.]

* I have translated thus, on the supposition that otf in the original
ought to be repeated.

* See the Pythagorean verses (quoted in in. 10) of which these
questions are a parody.

CHAPTER VII

1 Epictetus probably means, not any remaining disciples of Judas
of Galilee, but the Christians, whom Julian afterwards affected to
call Galileans. It helps to confirm this opinion that M. Antoninus
(ii. 3) mentions them by their proper name of Christians, as suffer-
ing death out of mere obstinacy. It would have been more reason-
able and more worthy the character of these great men to have
inquired into the principles on which the Christians refused to
worship heathen deities, and by which they were enabled to support
their sufferings with such amazing constancy, than rashly to pro-
nounce their behaviour the effect of obstinacy and habit. Epic-
tetus and Antoninus were too exact judges of human nature not to
know that ignominy, tortures, and death are, not merely on their
own account, objects of choice: nor could the records of any time
or nation furnish them with an example of multitudes of persons of
both sexes, of all ages, ranks, and natural dispositions, in distant
countries and successive periods, resigning whatever is most valu-
able and dear to the heart of man, from a principle of obstinacy,
or the mere force of habit; not to say that habit could have no
influence on the first sufferers.

a This agrees with Eph. v. 20, " Giving thanks always for all
things unto God ..."

1 The translation here follows Mr. Upton's manuscript and
emendation.

* " Nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt." Matt. xxvi. 39.
1 The translation of this passage follows the conjecture of Wolfius.

An allusion to the story mentioned in the first chapter of this
book, note M .

7 See in. xxiv. note tt .

342 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER VIII

1 Perhaps the true reading is

See in. xxii. note 1S .

[P. 239. Odyssey, xi. 528.]

* Which were the characteristics of the Cynics.

4 At the feast of Adonis, there were carried about little earthen
pots filled with mould, in which grew several sorts of herbs. These
were called gardens, and from thence the gardens of Adonis came
to be proverbially applied to things unfruitful or fading; because
those herbs were only sowed so long before the festival as to sprout
forth and be green at that time, and then were presently cast into
the water. See Potter's Grecian Antiquities, c. xx. p. 363.

* Here is a strong similitude to the seed, in the gospels, that
sprang up quickly, and withered.

This passage hath some difficulty in the original, and probably
may have been corrupted. The translatipn hath given what seems
to be the senbC,

CHAPTER IX

1 They who are desirous of taking refuge in heathenism from the
strictness of the Christian morality will find no great consolation
in reading this chapter of Epictetus.

* An indecent poet of Miletus.

3 A writer of amorous verses.

4 The translation follows Mr. Upton's conjecture of pvpoiroiov.

8 Epictetus here asserts that the only benefit of reformation is
being reformed; and that they who look for any other are incap-
able of being reformed, even by God himself/ and so may go on and
be as bad as they please. Suppose a prince should publish a pro-
clamation that the only advantage of loyalty was being loyal ; and
if any of his subjects looked for any other, he might be a rebel with
impunity : what effect mus.t this have, compared with the declara-
tion, Rev. xxii. 11, 12: " He that is unjust, let him be unjust still:
and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still : and he that is righteous,
let him be righteous still; and behold, I come quickly, and my
reward is with me, to give to every man according as his works
shall be,"

CHAPTER X

1 1 read the text in this place as Wolfius appears by his transla-
tion to have done.

2 " Thine they were, and thou gavest them me." John xvii. 6,

Notes 343

See Enchiridion, xiii.

4 The ensigns of the consular office.

These were distributed by the great men in Rome to their clients,
as a reward for their attendance.

" Ye cannot serve God and mammon." Matt. vi. 24.

7 Antilochus and Menelaus are not mentioned or referred to in
the passage of Homer to which Epictetus alludes. [Iliad xxiv. 5.]

5 I hop'd Patroclus might survive, to rear
My tender orphan, with a parent's care.

POPE.

aSTjAa you, perhaps, should be aSrjXa, 5^Xa you.

10 Thou too, Patroclus (thus his heart he vents),

Hast spread the inviting banquet in our tents.

POPE.

CHAPTER XI

1 Something here seems to be lost. Or perhaps the words " with-
out being sensible of it, you do something like this " ought to be
inserted after " neglected him/' [Or rather, after the next word ;
and the translation should be: Yet now, without being sensible of
it, you do something like this, even in the present case. Consider
your body, etc. But still the separation of o?ou from Kal vvv is
somewhat unnatural, and takes off from the spirit and quickness
of the repartee. T.]

* Here probably should be added " if you do not choose warm
water, with cold." These words m the Greek are transferred to a
place where they are absolutely unintelligible. They were prob-
ably at first omitted by chance, then supplied at the bottom of the
page, and then transcribed as if that had been their proper place.

1 In times of mourning or danger, the ancients expressed their
sense of their situation by neglecting their persons.

[Squalid . . . The original word signifies, in general, pale. And,
probably, Aristophanes meant the paleness which proceeds from a
sedentary, studious life. But Epictetus plainly understood him, of
that unwholesome look which want of cleanliness gives. T,] [See
Aristophanes, Clouds, 179, 225, etc.]

4 As it was the case of Diogenes.

' For wore, perhaps co-re may be the true reading, and it is so
translated.

See in. i. note '.

7 The youth, probably, means the scholar who neglects neatness;
and the old man the tutor, that givo$ him no precept or example
of it.

344 The Discourses of Epictetus

CHAPTER XII

i, perhaps, should be rtletrcu. [Or, as Casaubon conjec-
tures, drwtfeu'. Or, perhaps, as Mr. Upton proposes, ffirepriO^fvoif
should be fore/>r<0^Liei>or. T.]

1 [Is he my conscience . . . tcpi^a signifies, p. 652 1. 6 and p. 660
I. 5 of Mr. Upton's edition, the judgment which any one passes in
his own mind. T.]

1 The tutelar genius and fortune. Of the former, see I. xiv. 2.
Of both, see iv. iv. 4. By changing *ai rots into icai roi, the
translation would be : But, next to him, he hath intrusted me with
myself.

THE ENCHIRIDION

1 The translation follows Mr. Upton's conjecture of aXXwi> for
avrwv.

1 The sense is, that he who is only beginning to philosophise hath
yet nothing right within him to desire or set his heart upon; there-
fore, till he hath, he must not set his heart upon anything. But, in
the meantime, he must make use of the pursuits and avoidances,
i.e. perform the common actions of life; but these outward move-
ments must be cautious and gentle, and the inward movements of
desire be quite restrained.

The translation follows Mr. Upton's correction of the text in
this chapter [fairov for firry].

4 Thus some MSS. Changing in others /caXws into /ta/cws, the
translation will be: It is not so well with him, and ill with you.

I There is a great likeness to Christian phrases and doctrines in
this chapter.

i.e. dependent on persons' own choice.

T An allusion to the custom in the ancient entertainments, of
carrying round the dishes to each of the guests. Upton.

For Heraclitus, I suspect, should be read Hercules. [For
nothing appears to support so great an encomium of that philo-
sopher; whereas Hercules and Diogenes were favourites of the
Stoics, and particularly of our author; and the latter professed
himself an imitator of the former. But then he was never
deified. T.]

" If I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ."
Gal. i. 10.

M I have followed the conjecture of a friend, who thinks a></>eXets
should be w^eXei, to preserve an opposition between the person
signified by it and the <ri) an$y in the next sentence.

II Or, according to the reading in Simplicius the attendants in
his antechamber.

Notes 345

11 Happiness, the effect of virtue, is the mark which God hath set
up for us to aim at. Our missing it is no work of his, nor so properly
anything real, as a mere negative and failure of our own.

11 This chapter, except some very trifling differences, is the same
with the fifteenth of the Third Book of the Discourses, therefore
unnecessary to be repeated here.

14 " He that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is
a rewarder of them that diligently seek him." Heb. xi. 6.

18 aXXwj re, perhaps, should be aXXws 8

[P. 266. " Pythian god ": see Mlian, in. 44.]

Ji See Eccles. ii. 2, vii. 3-6; Ecclus. xix. 30, xxi. 20.

17 Public prostitutes were allowed by the laws at Rome and in
Greece. The mischiefs occasioned by persons of this character,
scarcely so much as hinted by the Stoic philosopher, are the subject"
of many beautiful reflections in the Book of Proverbs.

1$ A late editor of the Enchiridion hath proposed to read diairir\rrf.
fjitvov instead of 8ia,pp\wvov. [This reading he hath taken from an
edition in 1554, said to be made from a better manuscript than the
common editions. He understands it to mean, struck and affected
over strongly by externals. diapepXrjutvos means averse from, n.
c. 26, in the beginning, and Philostrat. vit Apollon. viii. 7, 3. But
from the vulgar sense, calumniated, it may mean here, one to whom
externals have been misrepresented, who hath a misconception of
the world. T.]

lf The Stoics were so fond of logic, that we must not wonder if
Epictetus took a simile from thence which to others must appear a
strange one. [See Book i. xxv.]

[P. 269. "mistresses": jrf/ucu, i.e. a title like "Madam." So
Ktpiot, " Master, Mr., Sir." See p. 317 note 7 .]

80 Purple was of high honour and price among the ancients.

" The original words here, *6<r/ucu /cai aJ^/uoi/es & <rw</>o<rtVfl,
are almost the same with, 4v KaratrroXfl KOfffily /ierd aidovs ical <rw<f>po-
fffow, i Tim, ii. 9.

" See iv. viii. of the Discourses.

M See in. xii. of the Discourses.

" See ii., note .

85 The same words, di>V rAetos, in the same sense, are used Eph.
iv. 13 (where they are opposed to viruoj, v. 14); James hi. 2; and
avOpuiros rAetos, Col. i. 28; and rAeioj, singly, I Cor. ii. 6; Phil. iii.
15 ; Heb. v. 14, where it is opposed to PATHOS, v. 13. Which word is
used also, i Cor. iii. i, as petpAKiov is here.

M Plato, in his Crito t introduces Socrates saying this of himself.
Upton.

27 From a poem of Cleanthes.

u From Euripides. [Frag. 965, Nanck.]

* From Plato's Crito and Apology.

346 The Discourses of Epictetus

FRAGMENTS

1 According to Fabricius, in his Bibliotheca Grcsca, v. 30, Stobaeus
was a heathen; at least, he cites only heathen authors. He lived
about the beginning of the fifth century. Maximus was a Christian,
of the seventh; and Antonius, surnamed Melissa, or the Bee, of the
eighth century or later; some say of the twelfth. Their collections
are printed together. The editions of Stobaeus are extremely in-
correct ; and in him and Maximus, the names of the authors quoted
either were frequently wrong originally, or have been altered since.
This may have happened to Antonius also; and, consequently,
some of the sayings ascribed to Epictetus may not have been his.
Indeed, many of these Fragments have very little the turn of his
other Discourses. The two first, particularly, have a much stronger
resemblance of the style and manner of M. Antoninus.

The sense absolutely requires that isirxti should be rtfxf. and it is
so translated.

8 Perhaps by bribing a judge or a jailor. However, the sense is
not clear. [Perhaps for ^ /ta/da should be read eri>xtd, a turn of
good fortune. T.]

4 The translation omits eireira jcexet/xivilpov?, which is in Antonius
and Maximus but not in Stobaeus,

This sentence is ascribed to Pythagoras, by Antonius and
Maximus, de Rationale ; Serm. 27, p. 75.

rrjs evSaipovtcis seems to be merely an interpolation, and is
omitted in the translation.

7 " I low hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom
of God ! " Mark x. 23.

The former part of the sentence seems to be wanting; in which,
probably, the author had said, that they who have hereditary
wealth should not think the management of it their chief concern;
just as, etc.

cruvejTcu should, perhaps, be crw^Trrai.

10 The Latin translator supposes that eMvpla should be ^Tritfvyufa,
which the sense requires.

11 1 have not translated the Fragment which follows this in Mr.
Upton, because I do not understand it.

18 There are various readings of this Fragment, but none which
makes the sense very clear.

13 It is doubtful whether the meaning be, that the effect of a
cheerful behaviour will remain after the person is dead, or after he
is separated from the company.

14 Gesner, for Kvfiepvfs, reads icot^wj/etj, which seems the best sense,
and is followed in the translation.

Notes 347

11 There is something strikingly beautiful and humane in thin
consideration about servants.

18 dire (.0v y probably, should be Te/0e>, and is so translated. The
a seems to have been added from the preceding word.

17 In Stobaeus the word is trticovpot. Gesner, whom Mr. Upton
follows, guessed it should be Mrjpos. ^Tk^pos, which the translation
supposes, is a less alteration, and makes a proper opposition to what
follows.

18 irpurov fjLeydXwv difa>0i}<r0 is the text of Stobaeus. Mr. Upton puts
in OVK, which the translation follows. dTraliwflVfl is a smaller
change, and the same sense.

lf This and other shocking things in Plato's Republic show how
apt even wise men are to err, without a guide.

80 See Discourses i. i.

21 Compare this and the next Fragment with i Cor. ii. 15.

" See Rom. xiv. 10.

88 The antithesis seems to require that dt'cu? should be dSkws, and
the translation unjustly blamed by him. who is condemned.

84 The Stoics held all virtues and all faults to be equal, and this
Fragment is one of their illustrations of that paradox.

21 The text has r?s <t>avTa<rlcu t but the true reading seems evidently
to be r% <t>avTa.<rlq.) and this the translation follows.

rb dl okffOai ft>Ka.Ta(f>povJiTOVt ro?t dXXot* t<rr0ai, ^Ar ^ rota r/><6rovt
oLVTl Tp6ir<i> p\d\fsufj.v f <r<ft65pa dyevvwv xal dvoyTwv dvOputrw.
ykp rbv VK<LTa.<pp6vr}Tov votlffdou fj.tv taa.1 /card r6 dvvarbv dvat
P\d\f/ai, dXXd iroXi) ftaXXov coctrai /card r& dvvarbv flvai cu^eXetv.

This is the whole of the Fragment; of which only the first part,
which was too good to be omitted, is translated. The rest I do not
understand. [By reading aMv for T&V, and disregarding or trans-
posing jjiv t we have: " For so we say he is held contemptible in
proportion as he can (or cannot) hurt. Much rather the standard
is, can he (or cannot he) help."]

17 The Ancients anointed the body every day.

28 The Latin version supposes that Toiet should be eurrotet. This
the sense seems to require, and it is so translated.

"This simile is peculiarly beautiful; and hath the force of an
argument in the discourse of a Stoic, who held the sun to be
animated and intelligent.

80 This Fragment, in Stobseus, is ascribed to Socrates.

81 See Discourses, i. xxvii. note '.

81 ^rrov is dropped out of the text, probably by reason of the
similitude of the next word orav.

** dTdpearor, perhaps should be dirdpccrTot.

84 This Fra[men,t is ascribed to Pythagoras* Stobaeus, Serm. i.

348 The Discourses of Epictetus

n Antonius and Maximus is aiaxwys- And it is so
translated here.

M This and the following Fragment are from Antonius and
Maximus, and in the margin stand there, Democriti, Isocratis, and
Epicteti; so, probably, they ought to be pur in the second class.

* 7 The expression in the original is the same with Luke xi. 41.
M This saying is likewise ascribed to Pythagoras.
w See Deut. vi. 7 ; Psalm Ixxi. 15, 24 ; cv. 2.
* a\Xo seems a false reading for fj.a\\ov.

il If any one thinks this sense of p6/u/<ios harsh or unsuitable, he
may read 0p6ru/xos, prudent.

41 The Stoics often confound the idea of God with that of the
world.

1 1 have followed Mr. Upton's division; but many Fragments in
the foregoing class properly belong to this.

1 A<f>aipi rty probably should be a<f>atp^rrjv t and is so translated.

This saying is ascribed by Stobaus to Socrates. araKrov, dis-
orderly, is there airpa/cr-w, ineffectual, which I have preferred.

[P. 301. Other Fragments have been identified since this book
was first published, and may be seen in the later texts. Some are
translated by George Long.]

I Stob. de Diis et Physiol. ; Serm. 211, p. 714. Ed. Francof.
1581.

I 1 have translated djiepw as it stands in the text ; but, possibly,
it might originally be no more than a marginal interpretation oi
Mfjiuv, changing the full point into a comma; or, according to
Gesner's translation, a corruption of 6 / uoto/x^<o>>'.

* The sentence seems imperfect.

* Maximus, ircpl <f>i\oirovlas ; Serm. 118, p. 374.

1 Ant. and Max. de Disciplind ; Serm. 210, p. 704.

Ibid.

7 Stobaeus, Compar. Paupertatis et Divitiarum ; Serm. 237, p. 778.

Archelaus, the philosopher, was the master of Socrates: but
the person here mentioned was king of Macedon, who vainly en-
deavoured to get Socrates to his court. The envy of Aristophanes
upon this occasion is said to have produced that infamous piece of
scurrility and buffoonery, his Comedy of the Clouds. See Bayle, in
the article " Archelaus."

1 Stobaeus, Quod Eventus, etc., pp. 324, 329.

GLOSSARY

Acheron, the River of Woe, in
Hades.

Achilles, the great hero of the
Greeks in the Trojan War.

Admetus, son of Pheres, King of
Thessaly, was doomed to die
unless a substitute could be
found. He tried all his friends,
including his father, and they all
refused; but Alcestis his wife
consented.

JEolus, King of Thessaly, a mythical
Greek hero; he had many sons.
God of the winds.

Msculapius, god of healing and
leechcraft. Alexander burnt a
temple of ^Esculapius when his
friend Hephaestion died.

Agamemnon, King of Mycenae,
brother of Menelaus, whose wife
Helen was cause of the Trojan
War, caused the " wrath of
Achilles " by taking away from
him Brisels, a captive maiden.

Antisthenes, of Athens, founder of
the Cynic sect. He was pupil
of Gorgias and of Socrates.

A Icibiades, a statesman and captain
of Athens about B.C. 450-404.
He was famous for his beauty,
his success, his genius, and his
profligacy. He was a friend of
Socrates, who was very fond of
him.

A ntipater, of Ascalon, a philosopher
and friend of Cicero (ist century
B.C.).

Anytus, one of the accusers of
Socrates.

Apollo, god of wisdom and pro-
phecy, later also of the sun. He
had a famous oracle at Delphi.
On the front of the temple was
graven the motto, Know thyself.

Archedemus, of Tarsus, a Stoic
philosopher.

Archimedes, of Syracuse, the great-
est mathematician of antiquity,
B.C. 287-212.

Argus, a monster who was spotted
all over with eyes.

Argos, a city and district N.E. of
the Peloponnese.

Aricia, a town near Rome on the
Appian Way.

Aristides, an Athenian statesman,

of the 1 5th century B.C. He was

called the Just.
Aristophanes, the greatest comic

poet of antiquity, about B.C. 444-

380.
Automedon, charioteer of Achilles.

billet, letter.

Capitol, one of the seven hills of
Rome, on which stood the citadel
and the temple of Jupiter.

Cassippt, in Corcyra (Corfu).

Cassius Longinus, C., a Roman
jurist in the early empire, from
Tiberius to Vespasian.

Castor and Pollux, sons of Zeus and
Led a. invoked by sailors.

Catamite, vicious person.

celebrate, thank, praise.

Ceres, Gr. Demeter, goddess of
corn and agriculture.

Ch&ronea, in Bosotia, where Philip
conquered the Boeotians, B.C.
338.

choler, bile.

Chryseis, a captive damsel whom
Agamemnon was forced to restore
to her father. He then took
away another damsel, Brisels,
from Achilles, and caused the
quarrel which is the subject
of Homer's I had.

Chrysippus, of Cilicia, born B.C. 280,
one of the chief philosophers of
the Stoic school, died 207.

Circensian Games, gladiatorial con-
tests or wild-beast fights in the
Circus Maximus at Rome. The
^Ediles were expected to give
them.

Cithceron, a mountain between
Boeotia and Attica, where
jEdipus was exposed as a babe
to die. His cry was for sorrow
that he had not died (CEd. Tyr.
1390)-

Cleanthes, a Stoic, born about
B.C. 300, succeeded Zeno as head
of the school.

Cocytus, the River of Wailing, in
Hades.

composition, system, combination.

concoct, digest.

349

350 The Discourses of Epictetus

Consent, general (p. 55), the re-
ceived opinion about the know-
ledge and certainty of things,
which the sceptics would not
admit.

Crates, of Thebes, a Cynic, flourished
about B.C. 320.

Croesus, King of Lydia in the sixth
century B.C., famous for his
wealth (B.C. 560-546).

Cnto, a friend of Socrates, who
tried to persuade him to escape
from prison.

Cybele, an Asiatic goddess, wor-
shipped with wild and abomin-
able rites by her priesthood.

Cynics, see Book in. chap. xxii.
note i.

Danatts, see note 22 to in. xxii.

damon, spirit, an unseen super-
natural power.

diesis, quarter- tone in music.

Diogenes, (i) the Cynic of the
fourth century B.C.; (a) a later
philosopher; (3) Laertius, wrote
lives of the philosophers.

Dion of Prusa in Bithynia, the
golden-mouth, a sophist and
rhetorician.

Dirce, a stream of pure water in
Boeotia.

discover, show.

distraction, madness.

Domitian, eleventh Emperor of
Rome, reigned A.D. 81-96; a
cruel tyrant.

Ecbatana, a summer residence of
the Persian kings.

economy, government.

Eleusis, a city near Athens, scene
of the mysteries of Demeter
(Ceres) and Kor6 or Persephone
(Proserpine). The rites were
kept secret and revealed only to
the initiate.

eulhymema, a logical term.

Epaminondas, a Theban statesman
and general, who delivered
Thebes from the Spartans, B.C.
379; defeated them at Leuctra,
371; was killed, 362, at Man-
tinea.

Epaphroditus, once the master of
Epictetus.

Epicurus, of Samos, B.C. 342-270,
founder of a philosophy which
cultivated " life according to
nature." The followers of this

school soon degenerated into

sensualists.

Epirus, a district in N.W. Greece.
Eteocles, son of CEdipus, fought a

duel with his brother for Thebes,

and they slew each the other.
Euphrates, a Syrian philosopher, a

Stoic, friend of the younger Pliny.
Eurystheus, King of Argos, to whom

by divine ordinance was given

the right to command Hercules.

Felicia, a slave of Epaphroditus,
the master of Epictetus.

g j*;gte, cackle.

Galba, sixth Roman Emperor,
reigned A.D. 68-69. He |was
murdered.

Gnossians, they of Gnossus in Crete.

Gyaros, Gyara, a small island used
by the Romans as a penal settle-
ment.

Hades, the underworld, the abode of
the dead.

Hector, son of Priam, King of Troy,
chief hero on the Trojan side in
the War.

Helvidius Priscus, son-in-law of
Thrasea Paetus, banished and
then put to death for his bold-
ness and freedom of speech, by
Vespasian.

Helen, wife of Menelaus, carried off
by Paris.

hellebore, a drug used for madness.

Hercules, national hero of Greece.
His labours were undertaken
at the bidding of Eurystheus.
They were: (i) Nemean lion;
(2) Lernean hydra; (3) Arcadian
stag; (4) Erymanthian boar;
(5) cleansing of the stables of
Augeas; (6) Stymphalian birds;
(7) Cretan bull; (8) mares of
Diomedes; (9) Queen of Amazon's
girdle; (10) oxen of Geryones;
(11) golden apples of the Hespe-
rides; (12) Cerberus brought up
from Hades. After death he
was deified.

Hermes, Lat. Mercury, messenger
of the gods, guide of the souls to
Hades, and god of windfalls and
good luck. He carried a rod
called in Latin caduceus,

Htppias, a Greek rhetorician.

Hippocrates, of Cos, greatest phy-
sician of antiquity a.bout B.C. 460*
357*

Glossary

351

Ilium, Troy.

indifferent, neither good nor bad in

itself (a Stoic term).
Isocrates, an Attic orator, B.C. 436-

338.
Isthmian Games, celebrated every

two years on the Isthmus of

Corinth, in honour of Poseidon

(Neptune).

Juno, Gr. Hera, queen of the gods.
Jupiter, Gr. Zeus, chief of the
Roman gods.

Lycurgus, the great lawgiver of

Sparta, Qth century B.C.
Lysias, an Attic urator, B.C. 458-

378.

Marcian Water, the aqueduct in

Rome of that name.
Maximus, a general who lived

under the Emperor Trojan.
Maximus Sabinus, a Roman jurist

under Augustus and Tiberius.
Medea, of Colchis, wife of Jason;

when Jason tired of her, he

murdered her two children in

revenge. Euripides wrote a play

so called.
Meletus, one of the accusers of

Socrates.
Mcnelaus, King of Sparta, brother

of Agamemnon, and husband of

Helen.
monster, monstrosity, curiosity,

freak.
Mycena, an ancient city near Argos.

Nausicaa, a princess who helped
Ulysses when he was ship-
wrecked.

Nemean Games, celebrated every
two years at Nemea in the
Peloponnese, for the honour of
Zeus (Jupiter).

Nero, fifth Roman emperor, reigned
A.D. 54-68, proverbial for cruelty
and vice.

Nicias, an Athenian commander.

Nymphs, were supposed to dwell
in trees, streams, and hills.

CEdipus, son of Laius, King of
Thebes, who by ordinance of fate
slew his father, and wedded his
mother unawares; then, in the
height of his glory and power was
shown the truth.

Olympia, in Elis, scene of the great
games.

Olympiad, period of four years
between the Olympic Games.

Olympic Games, celebrated every
four years at Olympia in Elis,
for the honour of Zeus (Jupiter);
those were the greatest games of
all Greece.

Orestes slew his mother Clytem-
naestra for murder of his father
Agamemnon; he fled to Delphi
pursued by the Furies, or
Avengers of his mother's spirit.

original, origin, elements.

paan, hymn of praise.
pal&stra, wrestling school.
Pallas, a title of Athena, goddess of
skill and handicrafts.

D an, god of the wild woodland,

patron of shepherds.
pathics, vicious persons.

^atroclus, the bosom friend of
Achilles, borrowed his armour,
and was slain in it.
pedagogue, a slave in charge of
children to take them to school.

Perdiccas, a warlike Macedonian
chieftain.

Penander, tyrant of Corinth in the
6th century B.C., and one of the
Seven Sages.

Phidias, the greatest sculptor of the
world (B.C. 490-432). His most
famous work was the statue of
Zeus (Jupiter) at Olympia. He
also made a great statue of
Athena (Minerva) holding Vic-
tory in her hand, for the Par-
thenon. Both these were of
gold and ivory over a wooden
frame.

Philip of Macedon, reiqned B.C.
3S9-336, when he was murdered.

Pirteus, the harbour of Athens,
joined to it by long parallel walls.

PitUicus, about B.C. 652-569, of
Mytilene, one of the Seven Sages.

Plato, a philosopher of Athens, B.C.
429-347, disciple of Socrates, and
founder of the School of the
Academy.

Pluto, ruler of the underworld, who
carried off Proserpine to be his
wife.

poisers, clubs or dumb-bells.

Polus, a Sicilian sophist, brought
into Plato's dialogue Gorgias.

Polynices t son of (Edipus: see
Eteocles.

Priam, King of Troy, had fifty sons,

352 The Discourses of Epictetus

one of whom, Paris, carried off
Helen, and so caused the Trojan
War; he was killed at the sack
of Troy by the Greeks.

Proserpine, daughter of Ceres.

prudent, prudence, prudent, wise,
etc.

Protagoras, a Greek rhetorician.

Pyriphlegethon, the River of Fire, in
Hades.

Pyrrho, 4th century B.C., founder
of the school called Sceptics, who
held that knowledge was un-
attainable.

Pythian Games, celebrated every
four years at Delphi, in honour
of Apollo Pythius.

Pythian Priestess, she who served
the oracle of Apollo at Delphi.

Rhodes, an island off the coast of
Caria.

Rufus, C. Musonius, a Stoic philo-
sopher of the first century A.D.

Sardanapalus, last King of Assyria.

noted for wealth, luxury, and

debauchery.
Sarpedon, a Lycian prince, fought

for the Trojans in the War, slain

by Patroclus.
Saturn, an old Roman deity, under

whom was the Golden Age.
Saturnalia, a winter festival at

Rome, a time of merry-making

and licence.
several, separate.
Sirens, witches who charmed

mariners to their death by singing.
Socrates, the celebrated dialectician

and philosopher, an Athenian,

B.C. 469-399-
Solon of Athens, 6th century B.C.,

one of the Seven Sages.
straiten, press, inconvenience.
Strike, affect with strong feeling,

desire, admiration, etc.
Susa, winter residence of the Persian

kings.

Thales, about B.C. 636-546, of
Miletus, one of the Seven Sages.

Thebes, capital of Boeotia.

Themistoclfs, an Athenian states-
man and commander, 5th century

B.C.

Thcopompus of Chios, a historian,
about B.C. 378-305.

theorem, speculation, rule.

theory, contemplation of things.

Thermopyla, a pass between Thes-
saly and Locris, where Leonidas
and his Spartans opposed the
army of Xerxes and perished
" obedient to their country's
laws," B.C. 480.

Thersites, a foul-mouthed hunch-
back in the Greek host before
Troy.

Theseus, national hero of Attica;
famous for his conflicts with
robbers and monsters: Peri-
phates the club-bearer, Sinis the
pine-bender, Sciron and his
bowl, Procrustes and his bed,
the sow of Crommyon, the bull
of Marathon, the minotaur of
Crete.

Thrasymachus, a sophist of Chal-
cedon, one of the characters in
Plato's Republic.

topic, heading, section of a subject.

Tnptolemus, a fabled culture-hero,
associated with origin of agri-
culture.

Ulysses, Grecian hero, famed for his
cunning; a fugitive from Troy,
wandered for ten years, then
returned home to nis faithful
wife Penelope.

unsociable, contrary to the prin-
ciple of human society.

Vespasian t ninth Emperor of
Rome, A.D. 69-79, founder of the
Flacian dynasty.

vizard, mask.

Vulcan, Roman god of smithcraft.

Xenofhon, a soldier and writer of
Athens, led the Ten Thousand
home after the battle of Cunaxa,
and wrote the story of the march ;
he also wrote of Socrates ; he was
still alive in B.C. 357.

Xerxes, King of Persia, invaded
Greece B.C. 480, and was defeated
at Salamis and Plataea,

Zeno, of Citium, founder of the
Stoic school, died about B.C.
260, aged 98.

INDEX

ACADEMICS deny the evidence of the senses, n. xx. 6.

Adultery reproved, n. iv. i, 2.

Affection not inconsistent with reason, i. xi. 2; how to be regulated,

HI. xxiv. 4; when miscalled, ibid.
Agrippinus. His behaviour about his trial, i. i. 8; his answer to Florus,

i. ii. 3-

Anger reproved, n. xviii. 3.
Appearances to the mind, a right use of them in our own power, i. i. 2.

the standard of action, i. xxviii. 2.

Archedemus, n. iv. 2; xvii. 4; xix. i; in. ii. 5.
Attention recommended, iv. xii.

BEAUTY, human, consists in human excellence, HI. i. i ; in the rational

part, ibid. 3.
Body, dependent on externals, i. i. 2; HI. xxii. 5; iv. i. ii, 12, 14;

clay, i. i. 3; HI. xxii. 5; iv. i. 12; our last garment, i. xxv. 3;

compared to an ass, iv. i. zi.

CAUTION consistent with courage, n. i. i, etc.; necessary in things

dependent on choice, n. i. 4.
Character to be preserved, i. ii. 3, 7; n. ii. 3.
Choice uncontrollable by Jupiter himself, i. i. 6; incapable of restraint,

i. xvii. 2; xxii. 2; HI. xix. z; in our own power, n. v. i; is

virtue and vice, happiness and unhappiness, n. xxiii. i, 2.
Chrysippus, i. iv. note 2; ii. vi. 2; xvii. 3; xix. i; HI. n. 5; xxi.

z ; why useful, i. iv. 5 ; xvii. 2.
Cleanthes, HI. xxvi. note 3; iv. i. 19.

Complaisance to be conducted with caution, in. xvi. z; iv. ii.
Common sense what, in. vi. 3.
Company a festival, i. xii. 2; iv. iv. 3.
Conceit reproved, n. xi. i; xvii. z, 4; in. ii. 4; xiv. 4.
Contentment recommended, i. i. 5; ix. 4; iv. iv. 6; vii. 3.
Crates, HI. xxii. note 20.

DEATH to be encountered cheerfully, z. i. 6; a restitution of what is not

our own, i. i. 9; no evil, i. ix. 3; xxiv. z; xxvii. i; HI. viii.

z; x. 2; a vizard, n. i. 3; a return to the elements, in. xiii.

z; iv. vii. 3; only the separation of soul and body, in. xxii. 4;

a loss of personal existence, HI. xxiv. 5; not terrible, Ench. v.; to

be placed continually before our eyes, Ench. xxi.
Demetrius, his speech to Nero, i. xxv. 3.
Desires in our own power, i. i. 3 ; n. ii. i ; Ench. i. ; are to be suppressed

by a beginner in philosophy, i. iv. i ; in. xiii. 3 ; xxii. 2 ; iv. iv.

2, 3; Ench. ii.

Determinations not all to be kept, xi. xv.
Difficulties, their use, i. xxiv. z.
Diffidence, faulty, reproved, HI. xiv. 4.
Diogenes taken for a spy, i. xxiv. note 3; xix. xxii. 3; his answer to one

who desired recommendatory letters, xx. iii. i; taken by pirates,

n. xiii. note 3; his behaviour in a fever, in. xxii. 6; his quickness

in repartee, HI. xxii. 12; his benevolence, xxi. xxix. 4; his notion

of freedom, xix. xxiv. 4; iv. i. 6, 13, z;.

353

354 The Discourses of Epictetus

Discontent reproved, i. vi. 6; xii. 2; 11. xvi. 2; iv. i. 12; iv. 3;

Frag. xii.

Discourse, indecent, to be avoided, Ench. xxxiii.
Distrust in providence reproved, i. ix. 2; in. xxvi. i.
Divination, ill effects of an unreasonable regard to it, n. vii. i ; the proper

disposition in applying to it, ibid. ; Ench. xxxii.
Duty, filial, recommended, in. vii. 3; Ench. xxx.

EDUCATION, why necessary, i. ii. 2; in what it consists, 11. xxii. 2; iv.
v. i; what the Stoics meant by it, 11. i. note 2.

Egotism to be avoided, Ench. xxxiii.

Elocution the gilt of God, n. xxiii. i; useful, but not principally so, u.
xxiii. 2.

Envy reproved, HI. ii. 4, 6.

Epaphroditus, i. i. 5; xix. 3; xxvi. 2.

Epicurus placed the good of man in body, i. xx. xxiii i; HI. vii. i ;
forbade marriage and the care of children and engaging in the service
of the public, i. xxiii. i; in. vii. 2; denied the natural relation of
mankind to each other, u. xx. 2; taught irreligion and injustice,
u. xx. 4; did not pronounce stealing to be evil, HI. vii. i; his
principles wicked, pernicious, and lead to oppression, adultery, and
murder, HI. vii. i, 2.

Error, all, involuntary, i. xvii. 2; xviii. i; u. xxvi. i; Ench. xlii.

Evil consists in a bad choice, u. i. i; a mere negation, Ench. xxvii.

Euphrates, the philosopher, HI. xv. i; iv. viii. 4.

Externals not in our own power, i. xxii. 2; u. v. i, etc.; materials to
the faculty of choice, i. xxix. i; not to be treated carelessly, ii.
v. 2.

FANCY, the guide of madmen, i. xxviii. 5.
Fates, i. xii. 2.
Florus, i. ii. 3.

Friendship to be met with only in prudence and virtue, n. xxii. r, 4;
Frag, x.; impossible in a bad man, u. xxii. 3, 5.

GALBA, HI. xvii.

Galileans, iv. vii. 2 note i.

God the universal Father and Creator, i. iii. i; ix. i; ii. viii 3; is
omnipresent and omniscient, i. xiy. i, 2; n. xiv. 2; doth not
neglect the smallest things, HI. xxiv. 6; our faculties and abilities
His gift, i. vi. 6; ii. xxiii. i; wherein consists His essence, H. via.
i; makes revelations to mankind, in. i. 7; the author of all we
enjoy, i. xvi. 3; ii. xxiii. i; iv. i. 12; dependence on Him recom-
mended, ii. xix. 3; to be thanked for the instructions we receive
from wise and good men, i. iv. 5; for moral improvement, n. xviii.
3; proposed to our imitation, see imitation; made all men to be
happy, and hath put happiness in our own power, i. xxix. i; in.
xxiv." i; to be consulted in our undertakings, in. xxii. 6.

God, see Jupiter.

Gods, different opinions concerning them, i. xii. i.

Good to be sought from ourselves, i. xxix. i; HI. xxii. 5; the universal
motive of action, in. iii. 2; in our own power, i. xxix. 6; in iii.
2; consists in choice, i. xxx.; n. xvi. i; xxiii. 2; HI. x. 2; not
in externals, in. xx. i; xxii. 4.

Grief, rebellion against God, in. xxiv. i.

HEALTH, not a good, in. x. 2; xx. i.
Helvidius Priscus, i. ii. 4, 5.
Hermes (rod of), in. xx. i.

Index 355

Hippocrates, i. viii. i.

Humility recommended, Ench. xxxiii.; Frag. iii.

IMITATION of God, ix. xiv. 2; xvi. 4; of good men, xx. xviii. 4, 5;

xix. 3; HI. xxiv. i; Ench. xxxiii.

Improvement, in what to be sought, i. iv. 3, 4; in. vi. i.
Industry, wherein it consists, iv. iv. 5.
Italicus, in. viii. 3.

JUPITER, i. i. 3, 4, 6; xii. 2; see God.

LATER ANUS, Plautius, i. i s.

Laughter reproved, Ench. xxxiii.

Law (divine) what, n. xvi. 3; in. xi. i; xxiv. 2.

Lesbms, in. xx.

Life a thing indifferent, 11. vi. i.

Logic, its use, i. vii. ; xvii i.

Love, consistent only with prudence, 11. xxii. i.

MAN, a spectator and interpreter of the works of God, i. vi. 4; not made
for an inactive life, i. x. 2; his good consists in a due regulation of the
choice, i. vni. 2; xxv. i; is possessed of free will, i. xvii. 2; xix.
2; part of a commonwealth, n. v. 4; x. i; iv. vii. 2; how pre-
served and how destroyed, n. ix. 2; his end to follow God, i. xxx.;
formed to change his abode, in. xxiv. i ; his nature gentle, sociable,
and faithful, iv. i. 13; v. 2; man not the master of man, iv. i.
12.

Marriage inconsistent with the Cynic profession, in. xxii. 8; recommended,
vii. 3; xxi. i.

Master, who, i. xxix. 9; 11. M. 4; Ench. xiv.

Maximus, in. vn. i.

Money not a good, n. xvi. i.

NEATNESS recommended, in. i. 7; iv. xi. i, 3.
Nero, i. i. 5; " 3-

OSTENTATION reproved, in. xii. i, 5; xiv. 2; xxiii. i, 2; xxiv. 7;
Ench. xlvi. xlvii.

PATIENCE the gift of God, i. vi. 5; n. xvi. 2; in. viii. 2.
Philosophers, what they ought to study, i. i. 6; xx. i; 11 xiv. 2; in.

x. 2; how treated, n. xii. 2; in. viii. 3; Ench. xxn.
Plato, i. viii. i; n. xvii. i, 2; directs prayer, n. xviii. 4; his notion

of a community of wives, Frag, xh iii.

Pleasure not a good, n. xi. 3; an attendant on virtue, in. vii. 3.
Polemo, in. i. note 3.

Poverty not an evil, HI. xvii. i; iv. vi. i.
Prayer recommended, n. xviii. 4, 5; in. xxi. i.
Principles not dependent on externals, i. xi. 3 ; the supreme rule of action,

i. xviii. i; in. ix. i.
Procrastination reproved, Ench. 1.
Providence, instances of its wisdom and goodness, i. vi. i, 2, 3; those

instances proofs of a God, ibid. ; gives the best things to the best

men, in. xvii. i.
Pseudomenos, 11. xvii. note 4.
Pyrrho, i. xxvii. note i.
Pyrrhonists ridiculed, i. xxvii. 2.

QUARRELLING reproved, iv. v. i, 2\

356 The Discourses of Epictetus

REASON equal in gods and men, i. xii. 2; contemplates itself, xx. i;

appointed to a proper use of the appearances of things, xx. i.
Resignation recommended, i. i. 5; n. xvi. 3; iv. i. 12.
Revenge reproved, n. x. 5.
Riches not a good, Frag. xvi. xxiii.
Rufus, i. ix. 8; in. vi. 4; xvii.; xxiii. x; his answer to Thrasea, x.

i. 7; to Epictetus, i. vii. 4.

SELF-INTEREST the universal motive of action, i. xix. 2; natural, xxii.
3 ; ii. xxii. i ; the ground of piety, i. xxvii. i ; n. xxii. 2 ; Ench.
xxxi.

Sceptics ridiculed, i. xxvii. 2.

Servants. Humanity to them, Frag. xxx.

Shame (false), reproved, HI. xxiv. 7; xxvi. r.

Sickness not an evil, HI. xx. i; its use, xx. i; no impediment to the
mind, Ench. ix.

Socrates, his resignation to the divine will, i. iv. 4 ; a citizen of the world,
ix. i; his speech to his judges, ix. 5; in. i. 4; xxiii. i; began
by the examination of words, i. xvii. i; always preserved the same
countenance, xxv. 4; forbids an unexamined life, xxvi. 3; in.
xii. 4 ; his excuse of the jailor, i. xxix. 10; whether he writ anything,
n. i. note 6; his pleasantry at his trial, y. note 3; wrote hymns in
prison, vi. 2; made his opponent bear witness to him, xii. 2; xxvi.
2; his chastity, xviii. 4; never provoked in a dispute, xii. 2;
never quarrelled, nor suffered others to quarrel, iv. v. i ; author of
Confutation, in. xiv. 4; his modesty, xxiii. i; iv. viii. 5; his
neatness, xi. 3; his courage, i. 18; in what manner he loved his
children, in. xxiv. 4; iv. i. 18; disobeyed the thirty tyrants, i.
18; his answer about his burial, i. xxix. note 2; when advised to
prepare for his trial, n. ii. i; to Crito, iv. i. 18.

Solicitude the effect of ignorance, n. xiii. i; xvi. i.

Solitude, a state of repose and freedom, i. xii. 2 ; iv. iv. 3 ; to be rendered
agreeable by contemplation, and dependence on God, HI. xiii. i.

Soul, a portion of the divine essence, i. xiv. i ; xvii. 2 ; ii. viii. 2 ; never
willingly deprived of truth, i. xxviii. i; n. xxii. 5.

Spartans, i. ii. i.

Superfluities to be avoided, Ench. xxxiii. xxxix; Frag. xxi. xxv. xxix.

Sura, in. xvii. note 4.

THANKSGIVING recommended, i. i. 3; iv. 5; xii. i; xvi. 3; n. xxiii.

i ; in. v. i ; iv. iv. i ; vii. 2.
Thrasea, i. i. 2.

VANITY reproved, Ench. vi. xliv. xlix.; Frag. xiii.
Vespasian, i. ii. 4.

Vulgar to be avoided, in. xvi. 2; Ench. xxxiii.; Difference between them
and a philosopher, Ench. xlviii.

WOMEN, for what to be esteemed, Ench. xl.

World, a system composed of men and God, i. ix. i; one great city, ni.

xxiv. r, 3; hath a governor, ii. xiv. 4.
Worship (divine) recommended, in. vii. 3; iv. iv. 6; Ench. xxxi.

ZENO, i. xx. note i; n. xiii. 2; zv. viii. 2.

.STCHWOPTH

IN GRCAT QftiTAMi

EVERYMAN'S

LIBRARY

EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS

A CLASSIFIED LIST
OF THE FIRST 925 VOLUMES

ID Cloth Binding

In Special Library Binding

Also Selected Volumes in Leather

EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY

CLASSIFIED LIST of 925 VOLS. in 13 SECTIONS

In each section of this list the volumes are arranged, as
a general rule, alphabetically under the authors' names.
Where authors appear in more than one section, a reference
is given, viz. : (See also FICTION). The number at the end
of each item is the number of the volume in the series.
Volumes temporarily out of print are marked J
Volumes obtainable in Leather are marked L

BIOGRAPHY

Audubon the NntTiralist, Life and Adventures of. By R. Buchanan. 601
Baxter (Richard), Autobiography of. Edited by Rev. J. M. Lloyd

Thomas, 868

Beaconsfleld (Lord), Life of. By J. A. Froude. 666
Berlioz (Hector), Life of. Translated by Katherine F. Boult. 602
Blackwell (Dr. Elizabeth) : Pioneer Work for Women. With an Introduc-
tion by Mrs. Fawcett. 667
L Boswell's Life of Johnson. 2 vols. 1-2

(See also TRAVEL)
L Browning (Robert), Life of. By E. Dowden. 701

Burton (Sir Thomas B'oweil), Memoirs of. Edited by Charles Buxton.

Introduction by Lord Buxton. 773

Carey (William), Life of: Shoemaker and Missionary. 395
Carlyle's Letters and Speeches of Cromwell. 3 vols. 266-8
Reminiscences. 875

(See also ESSAYS and HISTORY)
L Cellini's (Benvenuto) Autobiography. 51
Gibber's (Colley) An Apologry for his Life. 668
Constable (John). Memoirs of. By C. R. Leslie, R.A. 563
Cowper (William), Selected Letters of. Intro, by W. H*dley. M.A. 774

(See also POETRY AND DRAMA)
De Quincey s Reminiscences of the Lake Poets. Intro, by E. Rhys. 163

(See also ESSAYS)

De Retz (Cardinal): Memoirs. By Himself. 2 vols. 735-6
Evelvn's Diary. 2 vols. Introduction by G. W. E. Rn-moll. 220-1
Forsfer's Life of Dickens. Intro, by O. K. Chesterton. 2 vols. 781-3

(See also FICTION)
Fox (George). Journal of. Text revised by Norman Penney, F.3.A.

Introduction by Rufus M. Jones, LL.D. 754
Franklin's (Benjamin) Autobiography. 316
Froude's Life of Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfleld. 666
L Gaskell's (Mrs.) Life of Charlotte Brontd. Intro, by May Sinclair. 318
Gibbon (Edward), Autobiography of. Intro, by Oiipbant ttineaton. 511

(See also HISTORY)

Gladstone, Life of. By G. W. E. Russell (* Onlooker'). 661
Hasting* (Warren), Life of. By Capt. L. J. Trotter. 452
Helps' (Sir Arthur) Life of Columbus. 332
Hodson, of Hodson's Horse. By Capt. L. J. Trotter. 401
Holmes' Life of Mozart. Introduction by Ernest Newman. 664
Houghton's Life and Letters of Keats. Introduction by Robert Lynd. 801
Hutchinson (Col.), Memoirs of. Intro. Monograph by F. P. G. Guizot. 317
Irving's Life of Mahomet. Introduction by Professor E. V. Arnold. 613
Johnson's Lives of the Poets. Intro, by Mrs. Archer* Hind, M.A. 770-1
Lamb (Charles), Letters of. 2 vols. 342-3

(See also ESSAYS and FOR YOUNG PEOPLE)
Lewes' Life of Goethe. Introduction by Havelock Ellis. 239
Lincoln (Abraham). Life of. By Henry Bryan Binns. 783

(See also ORATORY)

Lockhart's Life of Robert Burns. Introduction by E. Rhya. 166
L , Life of Napoleon. 3

Life of Sir Walter Scott (abridged). 65
Mazzini, Life of. By Bolton King, M.A. 562

Newcastle (First Duke of), Life of, and other writings by the Duchoas of
Newcastle. 722

BIOGRAPHY continued

Outram (Sir J.), The Bayard of India. By Capt. L. J. Trotter. 396

Pepys' Diary. Lord Braybrooke's 1854 ed. 2 vols. 53-4

Plutarch's Lives of Noble Greeks and Romans. Dryden's Translation.

Revised, with Introduction, by Arthur Hugh Clough. 3 vols. 407-9
Rousseau, Confessions of. 2 vols. 859-60
Scott's Lives of the No relists. Introduction by George Saintsbury. 331

(See alao FICTION and POETRY)
Seebohm (Frederic): The Oxford Reformers. With a Preface by Hugh

E. Seebohm. 665

Smeaton's A Life of Shakespeare, with Criticisms of the Plays. 514
Southey's Life of Nelson. 52
Strickland's Life of Queen Elizabeth. 100
Swift's Journal to Stella. Newly deciphered and edited by J. K. Moor-

head. Introduction by Sir Walter Scott. 757
(See also ESSAYS and FOB YOUNO PKOPLK)

Vasari's Lives of the Painters. Trans, by A. B. Hinds. 4 vols. 784-7
Voltaire's Life of Charles XII. Introduction by Rt. Hon. J. Burns. 270
Walpole (Horace), Selected Letters of. Intro, by W. Hadley, M.A. 775
Wellington, Life of. By Q. R. Gleig. 341

Wesley's Journal. 4 vols. Intro, by Rev. F. W. Macdonald. 105-8
Woolman's (John) Journal and Other Papers. Introduction by Vida D.

Bcudder. 402

CLASSICAL

* Lyrical Dramas. Translated by Professor J. S. Blackie. 62
Aristophanes' The Frogs, The Clouds, The Thesmophorians. 516

The Acharnians, The Knights, and The Birds. Frere'g

Translation. Introduction by John P. Maine. 344
Aristotle's Politics. Introduction by A. D. Lindsay. 605

,, Poetics, etc., and Demetrius on Style, etc. Edited by

(See also PHILOSOPHY) [Rev. T. A. Moxon. 901

Caesar's The Gallic War and Other Commentaries. Translated by W. A.

McDevitte. 702

Cicero's Essays and Select Letters. Intro. Note by de Quincy. 345
L Epictetus, Moral Discourses, etc. Elizabeth Carter's Translation. Edited

by W. H. D. Rouse, M.A. 404

Euripides' Plays in 2 vols. Introduction by V. R. Reynolds. Translated
by M. Wodhull and R. Potter, with Shelley's 'Cyclops* and Dean
Milman's 'Bacchanals'. 63,271

Herodotus. Rawlinson's Translation. Edited, with Introduction, by
E. H. Blakeney, M.A.. omitting Translator's Original Essays, and
Appendices. 2 vols. 405-6

L Homer's Iliad. Lord Derby's Translation. 453
L ,. Odyssey. William Cowper's Translation. Introduction by Miss

F. M. Stawell. 454

Horace. Complete Poetical Works. 515
Hutchinson's (W. M. L.) The Muses' Pageant. Vols. I, IT, and III. 581,

606 and 671
Llvy's History of Rome. Vols. I-VI. Translated by Rey. Canon Roberts.

603, 669, 670, 749, 765, and 766

Lucretius: On the Nature of Things. Translated by W. E. Leonard. 750
L Marcus Aurelius' Meditations. Introduction by W. H. D. Rouse. 9
L Plato's Dialogues. 2 vols. Introduction by A. D. Lindsay* 456-7
L Republic. Spans' Translation. Introduction by Dr. Garnett. 64
| Plutarch's Moralia. 20 Essays translated by Philemon Holland. 565
Sophocles' Dramas. Translated by Sir G. Young, Bart. 114
Thucydides* Pelqponnesian War. Crawley's Translation. 455
L Virgil's Cncid. Translated by E. Fairfax -Taylor. 161

Eclogues and Georgics. Translated by T. F. Royds, M.A. 222
Xenophon's Cyropsedia. Translation revised by Miss F. M. Stawell. 672

ESSAYS AND BELLES-LETTRES

L Anthology of Prose. Compiled and Edited by Miss S. L. Edwards. 675

Arnold's (Matthew) Essays. Introduction by G. K. Chesterton. 115

Study of Celtic Literature, and other CriticalEssays,

with Supplement by Lord Strangford, etc. 458
(See also POETRY)
L Bacon's Essays. Introduction by Oliphant Smeaton. 10

(See also PHILOSOPHY)

Bagehot's Literan Studies. 2 vote. Intro, by George Sampson. 620-1
Brooke's (Stopford ,M.A.) Theology in the English Poets. 493
L Brown's Rab and his Friends, etc. 116

ESSAYS AND BELLES-LETTRES continued

Burke's Reflections on the French Revolution and contingent Essays.
Introduction by A. J. Grieve, M.A. 460

(See also ORATORY)

Canton's (William) The Invisible Playmate, W. V., Her Book, and In
(See also FOR YOUNG PEOPLE) [Memory of W. V. 566

Carlyle's Essays. 2 vols. With Notes by J. Russell Lowell. 703-4
Past and Present. Introduction by R. W. Emerson. 608
I Sartor Resartus and Heroes and Hero Worship. 278

(See also BIOGRAPHY and HISTORY)

Castiglione's The Courtier. Translated by Sir Thomas Hoby. Intro-
duction by W. H. D. Rouse. 807
L Century of Essays. A. An Anthology of English Essayists. 653

Chesterfield's (Lord) Letters to his Son. 823
L Chesterton's (G. K.j Stories, Essays, and Poems. 913

Coleridge's Biographia Literaria. Introduction by Arthur Symons. 11
Essays and Lectures on Shakespeare, etc. 162

(See also POETRY)

Craik's Manual of English Literature. 346

I Curtis's Prue and I, and Lotus Eating. Introduction by H. W. Mabie. 418
De Quincey's (Thomas) Opium Eater Intro, by Sir G. Douglas. 223

The English Mail Coach and Other Writings.

Introduction by S. Hill Burton. 609
(See also BIOGRAPHY)

Dryden's Dramatic Essays. With an Introduction by W. H. Hudson. 568
Elyot's Gouernour. Intro, and Glossary by Prof. Foster Watson. 227
L Emerson's Essays. First and Second Series. 12
L Nature, Conduct of Life, Essays from the * Dial'. 322

L Representative Men. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 279

Society and Solitude and Other Essays. 567

(See also POETRY)

Florio's Montaigne. Introduction by A. R. Waller, M.A. 3 Tola. 440-2
Fronde's Short Studies. Vols. I and II. 13, 705

(See also HISTORY and BIOGRAPHY)

Gilflllan's Literary Portraits. Intro, by Sir W. Robertson NIcoll. 348
Goethe's Conversations with Eckormann. Intro, by Havelook Ellis

851. (See also FICTION and POKTRY)
Goldsmith's Citizen of the World and The Bee. Intro, by R. Church. 90S

(See also FICTION and POETRY)
Hamilton's The Federalist. 519

Hazlitt's Lectures on the English Comic Writers. 411
L Shakespeare's Characters. 65

Spirit of the Age and Lectures on English Poets. 459
Table Talk, 321

Plain Speaker. Introduction by P. P. Howe. 814
L Holmes' Autocrat of the Breakfast Table. 66
Poet at the Breakfast Table. 68
Professor at the Breakfast Table. 67

Hunt's (Leigh) Selected Essays. Introduction by J. B. Priestly. 829
L Irving's Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon. 117

(See also BIOGRAPHY and HISTORY)
Lander's Imaginary Conversations and Poems: A selection. Edited

with Introduction by Havelock Ellis. 890
L Lamb's Essays of Ella. Introduction by Augustine Birrell. 14

(See also BIOGRAPHY and FOR YOUNG PEOPLE)
Lowell's (James Russell) Among My Books. 607

Macaulay's Essays. 2 vols. Introduction by A. J. Grieve, M.A. 225-41
L Miscellaneous Essays and The Lays of Ancient Rome. 439

(See also HIBTORY and ORATORY)
Machiayelli's Prince. Special Trans, and Intro, by W. K. Marriott. 280

(See also HISTORY)

Martinengo-Cesaresco (Countess): Essays in the Study of Folk -Songs 673
Mazzini's Duties of Man, etc. Introduction by Thomas Jones, M.A. 224
Milton's Areopagitica, etc. Introduction by Professor C. E. Vaughan. 796

(See also POETRY)

Montagu's (Lady) Letters. Introduction by R. Brimley Johnson. 69
Newman's On the Scope and Nature of University Education, and a
paper on Christianity and Scientific Investigation. Introduction by
(See also PHILOSOPHY) [Wilfred Ward. 723

Osborne's (Dorothy) Letters to Sir William Temple. Edited and con-
notated by Judge Parry. 674

Penn's The Peace of Europe. Some Fruits of Solitude, etc. 724
Prelude to Poetry, The. Edited by Ernest Rhys. 789
Reynold's Discourses. Introduction by L. March Phiilippa. 118

4

ESSAYS AND BELLES-LETTRES continued

L Rhys' New Book of Sense and Nonsense. 813

Rousseau's inile. Translated by Barbara Foxley. 518

(See also PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY)
L Ruskin's Crown of Wild Olive and Cestus of Aglaia. 323
Elements of Drawing and Perspective. 217
Ethics of the Dust, introduction by Grace Rhys. 282
Modern Painters. 5 vols. Introduction by Lionel Gust. 208-12
Pre-Raphaelitism. Lectures on Architecture and Painting,
Academy Notes, 1865-9, and Notes on the Turner Gallery.
Introduction by Laurence Binyon. 218
L Sesame and Lilies, The Two Paths, and The King of the Golden

River. Introduction by Sir Oliver Lodge. 219
Seven Lamps of Architecture. Intro, by Selwyn Image. 207
Stones of Venice. 3 vols. Intro, by L. March Philiipps. 213-15
Time and Tide with other Essays. 450
Unto This Last, The Political Economy of Art. 216

(See also FOR YOUNG PEOPLE)

Spectator, The. 4 vols. Introduction by G. Gregrory Smith. 164-7
Spencer's (Herbert) Essays on Education. Intro, by C. W. Eliot. 504
Sterne's Sentimental Journey and Journal and Letters to Eliza. Intro.
(See also FICTION) (by Georgre Saintsbury. 796

L Stevengon'8 In the South Seas and Island Nights' Entertainments. 769
! Virginibus Puerisquo and Familiar Studies of Men and

(See also FICTION, POETRY and TRAVEL) [Books. 765

Swift's Tale of a Tub, The Battle of the Books, etc. 347

(See also BIOGRAPHY and FOR YOUNO PEOPLE)
Table Talk. Edited by J. C. Thornton. 906

Taylor's (Isaac) Word* and Places, or Etymological Illustrations of
History, Ethnology, and Geography. Intro, by Edward Thomas. 517
Thackeray's (W. M.) The English Humourists and The Four Georges.
Introduction by Walter Jerrold. 610

(See also FICTION)
L Thoreau's Walden. Introduction by Walter Raymond. 281

Trench's On the Study of Words and English Past and Present. Intro-
duction by George Sampson. 788

Tytler's Essay on the Principles of Translation. 168
Walton's Oompieat Angler. . ._,

Introduction by Andrew Lang. 70

FICTION

Aimard's The Indian Scout. 428
L Alnsworth'i (Harrison) Old St. Paul's. Intro, by W. E. A. Aion. 622

The Admirable Crichton. Intro, by E. Rhys. 804

L The Tower of London. 400

L Windsor Castle. 709

.. Rookwood. Intro, by Frank Swlnnerton. 870

American Short Stories of the Nineteenth Century. Edited by John

Cournos. 840
L Austen's (Jane) Emma. Introduction by R. B. Johnson. 24

Mansfield Park. Introduction by R. B. Johnson. 23

I, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion. Introduction by

11. BTJohnson. 25

L Pride and Prejudice. Introduction by R. B. Johnson. 22

L Sense and Sensibility. Intro, by R, B. Johnson. 21

Balzac's (Honore do) Atheist's Mass. Preface by George Saints bury. 229
., Catherine de Medici. Introduction by George

Saintsbury. 419
.. M Christ In Flanders. Introduction by George

Saintsbury. 284

Cousin Pons. Intro, by George Saintsbury. 463

Eugenie Grandet. Intro, by George Saintebury. 169

Lost Illusions. Intro, by George Saintsbury. 656

L Old Goriot. Introduction by George Saintsbury. 170

The Cat and Racket, and Other Stories. 349
,, The Chouans. Intro, by George Saintsbury. 285

The Country Doctor. Intro. George Saintsbury. 530

The Country Parson. 686

The Quest of the Absolute. Introduction by George

Saintsbury. 286
The Rise and Fall of Cesar Birotteau. 696

The Wild Ass's Skin. Intro, by George Saintsbury. 26
t . , Ursule Mirouet. Intro, by George Saiutebury. 73S
Barbusse's Under Fire. Translated by FiUwater Wray. 798

5

FICTION continued

J Beaumont's (Mary) Joan Seaton. Intro, by H. F. Horton, D.D. 697
L Bennett's (Arnold) The Old Wives' Tale. 919
L Blackmore's (R. L>.) Lorna Doone. 304
Springhaven. 350

L Sorrow's Lavengro. Introduction by Thomas Seccombe. 119
L Romany Rye. 120 (See also TRAVEL)
L Bronte's (Anne) The Tenant of wildfell Hall and Ames Grey. 685
L (Charlotte) Jane Byre. Introduction by May Sinclair. 287
L Shirley. Introduction by May Sinclair. 288

L The Professor. Introduction by May Sinclair. 417

L ,, ,, ViUette. Introduction by May Sinclair. 351

L (Emuy) Wuthering Heights. 243

L Burney's (Fanny) Evelina. Introduction by R. B. Johnson. 352
L Butler's (Samuel) Erewhon and Erewhon Revisited. Introduction by

Desmond MacCarthy. 881

The Way of All Flesh. Introduction by A. J. Hoppe. 895
L Collins' (Wilkie) The Woman in White. 4(54

Conrad's Lord Jim. Introduction by R. B. Cunninghame Graham. 925
L Converse's (Florence) Long Will. 328

Dana's (Richard H.) Two Years before the Mast. 588

Daudet's Tartarin of Tarascon and Tartariu on the Alps. 423

Defoe's Fortunes and Misfortunes of Moll Flanders. Introduction by

G. A. Aitken. 837

Captain Singleton. Introduction by Edward Garnett. 1 4
Journal of the Plague Year. Introduction by G. A. Aitken. 289
Memoirs of a Cavalier. Introduction by G. A. Aitken. 2H3

(See also FOR YOUNG PEOPLE) [Chesterton.

CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. Each volume with an Introduction by G. K.
L American Notes. 290 L Little Dorrit. 293

L Barnaby Rudge. 76 L Martin Chuzzlewit. 241

L Bleak House. 236 L Nicholas Nickleby. 233

L Child's History of England. 291 L Old Curiosity Shop. 173
L Christmas Books. 239 L Oliver Twist. 233

L Christmas Stories. 414 L Our Mutual Friend. 294

L David Copperfleld. 242 L Pickwick Papers. 235

L Dombey and Son. 240 L Reprinted Pieces. 744

Edwin Drood. 725 Sketches by Boz. 237

L Great Expectations. 234 L Tale of Two Cities. 102

Hard Times. 292 L Uncommercial Traveller. 536

Disraeli's Conlngsby. Introduction by Langdon Davies. 535
Dostoevsky's (Fyodor) Crime and Punishment. Introduction by

Laurence Irving. 501
.. ,. Letters from the Underworld and Other Tales.

Translated by C. J. Hogarth. 654
Poor Folk and The Gambler. Translated by C. J.

Hogarth. 711

The Possessed. Introduction by J. Middleton

Murry. 2 vols. 861-2 [533

Prison Life in Siberia. Intro, by Madame Stepniak.

The Brothers Karamazov. Translated by Con-

stance Garnett. 2 vols. 802-3
The Idiot. 682

Du Maurier's (George) Trilby. Introduction by Sir Gerald du Maurior

With the original Illustrations. 863
Dumas' Black Tulip. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 174

Chicot the Jester. 421
Le Chevalier de Maison Rouge. Intro, by Julius Bramont. 614

Marguerite de Valois ('La Reine Margot'). 326
x. The Count of Monte Cristo. 2 vols. 393-4

The Forty-Five. 420
t The Three Musketeers. 81

The Vlcomte de Bragelonne. 3 vols. 593-5
L Twenty Years After. Introduction by Ernest Rhy*. 175
Edgar's Cressy and Poictiers. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 17
Runnymede and Lincoln Fair. Intro, by L. K. Hughes. 320

(See also FOR YOUNG PEOPLE)

Edgeworth's Castle Rackrent and The Absentee. 410
L Eliot's (George) Adam Bede. 27
Felix Holt. 353

Middlemarch. 2 vols. 854-5

L Mill on the Floss. Intro. Sir W. Robertson NioolL 325

L Romola. Introduction by Rudolf Dircks. 231

L Scenes of Clerical Life. 468

6

FICTION continued

L Eliot's (George) Silas Marner. Introduction by Annie Matheson. 121
L English Short Stories. An Anthology. 743

Erckmann-Chatrian's The Conscript and Waterloo. 354

,, The Story of a Peasant. Translated by O. J.

Hogarth. 2 vols. 706-7
L Fenimore Cooper's The Deerslayer. 77
l .. ,, The Last of the Mohicans. 79

The Pathttnder. 78

The Pioneers. 171

The Prairie. 172

Ferrier's (Susan) Marriage. Introduction by H. L. Morrow. 816
Fielding's Amelia. Intro, by George Saintsbury. 2 vols. 852-3

Jonathan Wild, and The Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon.

Introduction by George Saintsbury. 877

Joseph Andrews. Introduction by George Saintsbury. 467
L ., Tom Jones. Intro, by George Saintsbury. 2 vols. 355-6

Flaubert's Madame Bo vary. TranBlated by Eleanor Marx-Avellng.

Introduction by George Saintsbury. 808
SalammbO. Translated by J. S. Chartres. Introduction by

Professor F. C. Green. 869
French Short Stories of the 19th and 20th Centuries. Selected, with

an Introduction by Professor F. C. Green. 896
L Galsworthy's (John) The Country House. 017

Gait's Annals of a Parish. Introduction by BaiJlie Macdonald. 427
Gaskell's (Mrs.) Cousin Phillis. etc. Intro, by Thos. Seccombe. 615
L Cranford. 83

Mary Barton. Introduction by Thomas Seccombe. 598

North and South. 680

.. Sylvia's Lovers. Intro, by Mrs. Ellis Chadwiok. 521

Gleig'8 (G. R.) The Subaltern. 708
Goethe's W 11 helm Meister. Carlyle's Translation. 2 vols. 599-600

(See also ESSAYS and POETRY)
Gogol's (Nicol) Dead Souls. Translated by O. J. Hogarth. 726

., Taras Bulba and Other Tales. 740
L Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefleld. Introduction by J. M. D. 295

(See also ESSAYS and POETRY)

Goncbarov's Oblomov. Translated by Natalie Duddington. 878
Gorki's Through Russia. Translated by C. J. Hogarth. 741
J Gotthelf's Ulrio the Farm Servant. Ed. with Notes by John Ruskin. 228
Harte's (Bret) Luck of Roaring Camp and other Tales. 681
Hawthorne's The Houseof the Seven Gables. Intro, by Ernest Rhys. 176
L The Scarlet Letter. 122

The Blithedale Romance. 592

The Marble Faun. Intro, by Sir Leslie Stephen. 424
Twice Told Tales. 531
(See also FOR YOUNO PEOPLE)

L Hugo's (Victor) Les Miserables. Intro, by S. R. John. 2 vols. 363-4
L p , Notre Dame. Introduction by A. C. Swinburne. 422

L , t Toilers of the Sea. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 509

Italian Short Stories. Edited by D. Pettoello. 876
James's (G. P. R.) Richelieu. Introduction by Rudolf Dircks. 357
L James's (Henry) The Turn of the Screw and The Aspern Papers. 912

KingBley's (Charles) Alton Locke. 4(52

L Hereward the Wake. Intro, by Ernest Rhys. 296

L Hypatia. 230

L Westward Ho; Introduction by A. G. Grieve. 20

Yeast. 611

(See also POETRY and FOR YOUNG PKOPLB)
(Henry) Geoffrey Hamlyn. 416

,, Rarenshoe. 28
L Lawrence's (D. H.) The White Peacock. 914

Lever's Harry Lorrequer. Introduction by Lewis Melville. 177
L Lotl's (Pierre) Iceland Fisherman. Translated by W. P. Barnes. 920
L Lover's Handy Andy. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 178
L Lytton's Harold. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 15
L , Last Days of Pompeii. 80

Last of the Barons. Introduction by R. G. Watkin. 18
~ ' Introduction by E. H. Blakeney, M.A. 532

(See also TRAVEL)_
onald's

MaoDonald's (George) Sir Gibbie. 673

(See also ROMANCE)
Manning's Mary Powell and Deborah's Diary. Intro, by Catherine Tynan

(Mrs. Hinkson). 324

7

FICTION continued

Mnnnlnpr'f Sir Thomas More. Introduction by Ernest Bhyv. 19
Marryat's Jacob Faithful. 618

L Mr. Midtthipman Easy. Introduction by R. B. Johnson. 82
M Percival Keene. Introduction by R. Brimley Johnson. 358

M Peter Simple. Introduction by R. Brimley Johnson. 232

The King's Own. 580

(See also FOR YOUNG PEOPLE)
Maupassant's Short Stories. Translated by Marjorie Laurie. Intro-

duction by Gerald Gould. 907

Melville's (Herman) Moby Dick. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 179
Omoo. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 297

,, ,, TV pee. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 180

L Meredith's (George) The Ordeal of Richard Feverel. 916
Meriniee's Carmen, with Provost's Manon Lescaut. Introduction by

Philip Henderson. 834
Mickiewic/.'s (Adam) Pan Tadeusz. 842
Morier's Hajji Baba. 679

Mulock's John Halifax, Gentleman. Introduction by J. Shaylor. 123
Neale's (J.M.) The Fall of Constantinople. 655

J Oliphant's (Mrs.) Salern Chapel. Intro, by Sir W Robertson Nicoll. 244
Paltock's (Robert) Peter Witkins; or, The Flying Indiana. Introduction

by A. H. Bullen. 676

Pater's Marlus the Epicurean. Introduction by Osbert Burdett. 903
Peacock's Headlong Hall and Nightmare Abbey. 327
L Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imagination. Intro, by Padraic Colum. 336

(See also POETRY)
Provost's Manon Lescaut, with Merimee's Carmen. Introduction by

Philip Henderson. 834
Pushkin's (Alexander) The Captain's Daughter and Other Tales. Trans.

by Natalie Duddlngton. 898
Quiller-Couch's (Sir Arthur) Hetty Wesley. 864
Radcllffe's (Ann) Mysteries of Udolpho. Introduction by R. Austin

Freeman. 2 vols. 865-6

L Reade's (C.) The Cloister and the Hearth. Intro, by A. C. Swinburne. 29
Reade's (C.) Peg Womngton and Christie Johnstone. 299
Richardson's (Samuel) Pamela. Intro, by G. Saintsbury. 2 vols. 683-4
Clarissa Harlowe. Intro, by Prof. W. L. Phelps.

4 vols. 882-5

Russian Authors, Short Stories from. Trans, by R. S. Townaend. 768
Sand's (George) The Devil's Pool and Francois the Waif. 534
Scbeffel's Ekkehard : a Tale of the Tenth Century. 529
Scott's (Michael) Tom Cringle's Log. 710
8m WALTER SCOTT'S WORKS:
L Abbot, The. 124 L Ivanhoe. Intro, by Ernest Rhys. 1

Anne of Geierstein. 125 L Ken 11 worth. 135

L Antiquary, The. 126 L Monastery. The. 136

Black Dwarf and Legend of L Old Mortality. 137

Montrose. 128 Peveril of the Peak. 138

Bride of Lammermoor. 129 Pirate. The. 139

Castle Dangerous and The Sur- L Quentln Durward. 140

geon's Daughter. 130 x, Redgauntlet. 141

Count Robert of Paris. 131 L Rob Roy. 142

L Fair Maid of Perth. 132 St. Ronan's Well. 143

Fortunes of Nigel. 71 L Talisman, The. 144

L Guy Mannoring. 133 L Waverley. 75

L Heart of Midlothian, The. 134 L Woodstock. Intro, by Edward
Highland Widow and Betrothed. 127 Garnett. 72

(See also BIOQRAPHT and POETRY)
Shehedrin'8 The Golovlyov Family. Translated by Natalie Duddington*

Introduction by Edward Garnett. 908
Shelley's (Mary Wollstonecraft) Frankenstein. 616
t Sheppard'8 Charles Auchester. Intro, by Jessie M. Middleton. 505
Sietikiewicz (Henryk). Tales from. Edited by Monica M. Gardner. 871
Shorter Novels, Vol. I. Elizabethan and Jacobean. Edited by Philip

Henderson. 824
Vol. II. Jacobean and Restoration. Edited by Philip

Henderson. 841

Vol. HI Eighteenth Century (Beokford's Vathek,

Walpole's Castle of Otranto. and Dr. Johnson's

Smollett's Peregrine Pickle. 2 vols. 838-9 (Hasselas). 856

Roderick Random. Introduction by H. W. Hodges. 790

L Sterne's Tristram Shandy. Introduction by George Saintsbury. 617
(See. also ESSAY*)

8

FICTION contin ued

L Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The Merry Men, and Other Tales.

767

L The Master of Ballantrae and The Black Arrow. 764

L Treasure Island and Kidnapped. 763

St. Ives. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 904

(See also Ess ATS, POETRY, and TRAVEL)
Surtees' Jorrocks* Jaunts and Jollities. 817

Thackeray's Christmas Books. Introduction by Walter Jerrold. 359
L Esmond. Introduction by Walter Jerrold. 73

Newcomes. Introduction by Walter Jerrold. 2 Tola. 466-6

Pendennis. Intro, by Walter Jerrold. 2 vols. 425-6

Roundabout Papers. 687

L Vanity Fair. Introduction by Hon. Whitelaw Reid. 298

Virginians. Introduction by Walter Jerrold. 2 vols. 507-8

(See also ESSAYS )

L Tolstoi's Anna Karon ina. Trans, by Rochelle S. Townsend. 2 vols. 612-13
Childhood, Boyhood, and Youth. Trans, by C. J. Hogarth. 691
Master and Man, and other Parables and Tales. 469
., War and Peace. 3 vols. 525-7
Trollope's (Anthony) Barchester Towers. 30
M Dr. Thorne. 360

Framley Parsonage. Intro, by Ernest Rhys. 181

The Golden Lion of Granpere. Introduction by

Hugh Walpole. 761

The Last Chronicle of Barset. 2 vote. 391-2

Phineas Finn. Intro, by Hugh Walpole. 2 vols. 832-3

The Small House at Allington. 361

., The Warden. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 182

Turgenev's Fathers and Sons. Translated by C. J. Hogarth. 742
Liza. Translated by W. R. S. Ralston. 677
Virgin Soli. Translated by Rochello S. Townsend. 528
L Walpole's (Hugh) Mr. Perrin and Mr. Trnill. 918
I. Wolfe's (H. G.) The Time Machine and The Wheels of Chance. 915
Whyte-Melvllle's The Gladiators. Introduction by J. Mavrogordato. 523
Wood's (Mrs. Henry) The Cnannings. 84
Yonge's (Charlotte M.) The Dove in the Eagle's Nest. 329

The Heir of Redclyffe. Intro. Mrs. Meynell. 362

(See also FOR YOUNQ PEOPLE)
Zola's (Emlle) Germinal. Translated by Havelock Ellis. 897

HISTORY

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The. Translated by James Ingram. 624
Bede's Ecclesiastical History, etc. Introduction by Vida D. Scudder. 479
Burnet's History of His Own Times. 85
L Carlyle's French Revolution. Introduction by H. Belloo, 2 vols, 81-2

(See also BIOGRAPHY and ESSAYS)

L Creasy's Decisive Battles of the World. Introduction by E. Rhys. 300
De Joinville (See Villehardouin)

Duruy's (Jean Victor) A History of France. 2 vols. 737-8
Finlay's Byzantine Empire. 33

Greece under the Romans. 185

Froude's Henry VIII. Intro, by Llewellyn Williams, M.P. 3 vols. 372-4
Edward VI. Intro, by Llewellyn Williams. M.P.. B.C.L. 375
Mary Tudor. Intro, by Llewellyn Williams, M.P., B.C.L. 477
History of Queen Elizabeth's Reign. 5 vols. Completing

Froude's ' History of England', in 10 vols. 583-7
(See also ESSAYS and BIOGRAPHY)

L Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Edited, with Introduc-
tion and Notes, by Oliphant Smeaton, M.A. 6 vols. 434-6, 474-6
(.See also BIOGRAPHY)

Green's Short History of the English People. Edited and Revised by
L. Cecil Jane, with an Appendix by R. P. Farley, B.A. 2 vols. 727-8
Grote's History of Greece. Intro, by A. D. Lindsay. 12 vols. 186-97
Hallain's (Henry) Constitutional History of England. 3 vois. 621-3
Hollnshed's Chronicle as used in Shakespeare's Plays. Introduction by

Professor Allardyce Nicoll. 800
living's (Washington) Conquest of Granada. 478

(See also ESSAYS and BIOGRAPHY)

Josephus* Wars of the Jews. Introduction by Dr. Jacob Hart* 7 IS
Lutzow's History of Bouomia. 432
I* Macaulay'8 History of England. 3 vols. 34-6
(See also ESSAYS and ORATORY)

HISTORY continued

Machiavelli's History of Florence. 376

(See also ESSAYS)

Maine's (Sir Henry) Ancient Law. 734

Merivale's History of Rome. (An Introductory vol. to Qibbon.) 433
Mignet's (F. A. M.) The French Revolution. 713
Miknan'B History of the Jews. 2 vols. 377-8
Mommsen's History of Rome. Translated by W. P. Dickson, LL.D.

With a review of the work by E. A. Freeman. 4 vols. 542-5
L Motley's Dutch Republic. 3 vols. 86-8

Parkman's Conspiracy of Pontiao. 2 vols. 302-3

Paeton Letters, The. Based on edition of Knight. Introduction by

Mrs. Archer-Hind, M. A. 2 vols. 752-3

Pilgrim Fathers, The. Introduction by John Masofleld. 480
Political Liberty, The Growth of. A Source-Book of English History.

Arranged by Ernest Rhys. 745
Prescott's Conquest of Mexico. With Introduction by Thomas Seocombe,

M.A. 2 vols. 397-8

Conquest of Peru. Intro, by Thomas Seocombe, M.A. 301
Sisxnondi'B Italian Republics. 250
Stanley's Lectures on the Eastern Church. Intro, by A. J. Grieve. 251

Memorials of Canterbury. 89
Tacitus. Vol. I Annals. Introduction by E. H. Blakeney. 273

Vol. II. Agricola and Germania. Intro, by E. H. Blakeney. 274
Thierry's Norman Conquest. Intro, by J. A. Price, B.A. 2 vols. 198-9
Villehardouin and De Joinville's Chronicles of the Crusades. Translated.

with Introduction, by Sir F. Marzials. C.B. 333
Voltaiie's Age of Louis XIV. Translated by Martyn P. Pollack. 780

ORATORY

L Anthology of British Historical Speeches and Orations. Compiled by

Ernest Rhys. 714

Bright's (John) Speeches. Selected with Intro, by Joseph Sturge. 252
Burke's American Speeches and Letters. 340

(See also ESSAYS)

Demosthenes: Select Orations. 546
Fox (Charles James): Speeches (French Revolutionary War Period).

Edited with Introduction by Irene Cooper Willis, M.A. 759
Lincoln's Speeches, etc. Intro, by the Rt. Hoa. James Bryce. 206

(See also BIOGRAPHY)
Macaulay's Speeches on Politics and Literature. 399

(See also ESSAYS and HISTORY)
Pitt's Orations on the War with France. 145

PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY

L A Kempis* Imitation of Christ. 484

Ancient Hebrew Literature. Being the Old Testament and Apocrypha

Arranged by the Rev. R. B. Taylor. 4 vols. 253-6
Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics of. Translated by D. P. Chase.
7 Introduction by Professor J. A. Smith. 547

(See also CLASSICAL)
J Bacon's The Advancement of Learning. 719

(See also ESSAYS)
* Berkeley's (Bishop) Principles of Human Knowledge. New Theory of

Vision. With Introduction by A. D. Lindsay. 483
J Boehme's (Jacob) The Signature of AH Things, with Other Writings.

Introduction by Clifford Bax. 569

Browne's Religio Medici, etc. Introduction by Professor C. H. Herford. 92
Butiyan's Grace Abounding and Mr. Badman. Introduction by G. B.

Harrison. 815 (See also ROMANCE;

Burtou's (Robert) Anatomy of Melancholy. Introduction by Holbrook

Jackson. 3 vols. 886-8

V Butler's Analogy of Religion. Introduction by Rev. Ronald Bayne. 90
J Descartes' (Rene) A Discourse on Method. Translated by Professor John

Veitch. Introduction by A. D. Lindsay. 570
J Gore's The Philosophy of the Good Life. 924

J Hobbes* Leviathan. Edited, with Intro, by A. D. Lindsay, M.A. 691
, Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity. Intro, by Rev. H. Bayne. 2 vols. 201-2
Hume's Treatise of Human Nature, and other Philosophical Works.

Introduction by A. D. Lindsay. 2 vols. 548-9
~ James (William): Selected Papers on Philosophy. 739
3 Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. Translated by J. M. D. Meiklejohn.
Introduction by Dr. A. D. Lindsay. 909
10

PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY continued

Keble's The Christian Year. Introduction by J. O. Shalrp. 690
King Edward VI. First, and Second Prayer Books. Introduction by th

Right Rev. Bishop of Gloucester. 448
i, Koran. The. Rodweif's Translation. 380

Latimer's Sermons. Introduction by Canon Beeching. 40

Law's Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life. 91

Leibniz's Philosophical Writings Selected and trans, by Mary Morris.

Introduction by C. R. Morris, M.A. 905
Locke's Two Treatises of Civil Government. Introduction by Professor

William S. Carpenter. 751

Malthus on the Principles of Population. 2 vols, 692-3
Maurice's Kingdom of Christ. 2 vols. 146-7 (Vol. 146J)
Mill's (John Stuart) Utilitarianism, Liberty, Representative Government.

With Introduction by A. D. Lindsay. 482

,, Subjection of Women. (Sec Wollstoneoraft, Mary, under SCIENCE.)
More's Utopia. Introduction by Judge O'Hagan. 461
L New Testament. Arranged in the order in which the books came to the

Christians of the First Century. 93
Newman's Apologia pro Vita Sua. Intro, by Dr. Charles Sarolea. 638

(See also ESSAYS)
Nietzsche's Thus Spake Zarathustra. Translated by A. Tille and

M. M. Bozman. 892

Paine's Rights of Man. Introduction by G. J. Holyoake. 718
Pascal's Pensees. Translated by W. F. Trotter. Introduction by

T. S. Eliot. 874
L Ramayana and the Mahabharata, The. Translated by Roxnesh Dutt.

C.I.E. 403

Renan's Life of Jesus. Introduction by Right Rev. Chas. Gore, D.D. 805

Robertson's (F. W.) Sermons on Religion and Life, Christian Doctrine,

and Biblo Subjects. Each Volume with Introduction by Canon

Burnett. 3 voK 37-9

Robinson's (Wade) The Philosophy of Atonement and Other Sermons.

Introduction by Rev. F. B. Meyer. 637
Rousseau's (J. J.) Tho Social Contract, etc. 660

(See also ESSAYS)

L St. Augustine's Confessions. Dr. Pusey's Translation. 200
L St. Francis: The Little Flowers, and The Life of St. Francis. 485
Seeley's Ecce Homo. Introduction by Sir Oliver Lodge. 305
Spinoza's Ethics, etc. Translated by Andrew J. Boyle. With Intro-
duction by Professor Santayana. 481
Swedenborg's (Emmanuel) Heaven and Hell. 379

The Divine Love and Wisdom. 635

The Divine Providence. 658

L M The True Christian Religion. 893

POETRY AND DRAMA

Anglo-Saxon Poetry. Edited by Professor R. K. Gordon. 794
L Arnold's (Matthew) Poems, 1840-66, including Thyrsis. 334
L Ballads, A Book of British. Selected by R7B. Johnson. 572

Beaumont and Fletcher, The Select Plays of. Introduction by Professor

Baker, of Harvard University. 506

BJornson's Plays. Vol. I. The Newly Married Couple, Leonardo, A
Gauntlet. Translated by R. Farquh arson Sharp.
625
Vol. II. The Editor, The Bankrupt, and The King.

Translated by R. Farquharson Sharp. 696

Blake's Poems and Prophecies. Introduction by Max Plowman. 792
L Browning's Poems, 1833-44. Introduction by Arthur Waugh. 41
L Browning's Poems, 1844-64. 42

L The Ring and the Book. Intro, by Chas. W. Hodell. 502
L Burns' Poema and Songs. Introduction by J. Douglas. 94
Byron's Poetical and Dramatic Works. 3 vols. 486-8
Caldcron: Six Plays, translated by Edward Fitzgerald. 819
L Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Edited by Principal Burrell, M.A. 307
Coleridge, Golden Book of. Edited by Stopford A. Brooke. 43

(See also ESSAYS)
Cowper (William). Poems of. Edited by H. FAnson Fausset. 872

(See also BIOGRAPHY)
L Dante's Divine Comedy (Gary's Translation). Specially edited bf

Edmund Gardner. 308

Donne's Poems. Edited by H. I 'An son Fausset. 867
Dry den's Poems. Edited by Bonamy Dobree. 910
Eighteenth Century Plays. Edited by John Hampden. 818

II

POETRY AND DRAMA continued

Emerson's Poems. Introduction by Professor Bakewell, Yale, U.S.A. 715
Everyman aud other Interludes, including eight Miracle Plays. Edited

by Ernest Rhys. 381

L Fitzgerald's (Edward) Omar Khayyam and Six Plays of Calderon. 819

L Goethe's Faust. Parts I and II. Trans, and Intro, by A. Q. Latham. 335

(See also ESSAYS and FICTION) [well. 921

Golden Book of Modern English Poetry, The. Edited by Thomas Cald-

L Golden Treasury of Longer Poems, The. Edited by Ernest Rhys. 746

L Goldsmith's Poems and Plays. Introduction by Austin Dobson. 415

(See also ESSAYS and FIOTIOV)

Gray's Poems and Letters. Introduction by John Drlnkwater. 628
Hebbel's Plays. Translated with an Introduction by Dr. C. K. Allen. 694
Heine: Prose and Poetry. 911

Herbert's Temple. Introduction by Edward Thomas. 309
Heroic Verse, A Volume of. Arranged by Arthur Burroll, M.A. 574
Hcrrick's Hesperides and Noble Numbers. Intro, by Ernest Rhys. 310
L Ibsen's Brand. Translated by F. E. Garrett. 716
L Ghosts, The Warriors at Helgoland, and An Enemy of the People.

Translated by R. Farquharson Sharp. 552
L Lady Inger of Ostraat, Love's Comedy, and The League of

Youth. Translated by R. Farquharson Sharp. 729
L Peer Gynt. Translated by R, Farquharson Sharp. 747
L A Doll's House, The Wild Duck, and The Lady from the Sea.

Translated by R. Farquharson Sharp. 494
L The Pretenders, Pillars of Society, and Rosmersholm. Translated

by R. Farquharson Sharp. 659

Jonson's (Ben) Plays. Introduction by Professor Sohelling. 2 vols. 489-90
Kalidasa: Shakuutala. Translated by Professor A. W. Ryder. 629
L Keats' Poems. 101

Kingsley's (Charles) Poems. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 793
(See also FICTION and FOR YOUNO PBOPLJB)
L Langland's (William) Piers Plowman. 571

Lessing's Laocodn, Minna von Barnhelm, and Nathan the Wise. 843
L Longfellow's Poems. Introduction by Katherlne Tynan. 382
L Marlowe's Plays and Poems. Introduction by Edward Thomas. 383
L Milton't Poems. Introduction by W. H. D. Rouse. 384

(Sec also ESSAYS)
Minor Elizabethan Drama. Vol. I. Tragedy. Selected, with Introduction.

by Professor Thorndike. Vol. II. Comedy. 491-2

L Minor Poets of the 18th Century. Edited by H. I'Anson Fausset. 844
Minor Poets of the 17th Century. Edited by R. G. Howarth. 873
Moliere's Comedies. Introduction by Prof. F. C. Green. 2 vols. 830-1
L New Golden Treasuryt The. An Anthology of Songs and Lyrics. 695

Old YeJlow Book, The. Introduction by Charles E. Hodell.' 503
L Omar Khayyam (The Rubaiyat of). Trans, by Edward Fitzgerald. 819
L Palgrave's Golden Treasury. Introduction by Edward Hutton. 96
Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. 2 vols. 148-9
Poe's (Edgar Allan) Poems and Essays. Intro, by Andrew Lang. 791

(See also FICTION)

Pope (Alexander): Collected Poems. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 760
Procter's (Adelaide A.) Legends and Lyrics. 150

Restoration Plays, A Volume of. Introduction by Edmund Gosse. 604

L Rossetti'e Poems and Translations. Introduction by E. G. Gardner. 627

Scott's Poems and Plays. Intro, by Andrew Lang. 2 vols. 550-1

(See also BIOQUAPHY and FICTION)
L Shakespeare's Comedies. 153

L >, Historical Plays, Poems, and Sonnets. 154

L , Tragedies. 155

L Shelley's Poetical Works. Introduction by A. H. Koszul. 2 vols. 257-8
L Sheridan's Plays. 95

Spenser's Faerie Queene. Intro, by Prof. J. W. Hales. 2 vols. 443-4
Shepherd's Calendar and Other Poems. Edited by Philip

Henderson. 879

Stevenson's Poems A Child's Garden of Verses, Underwoods. Songs of
Travel, Ballads. 768

(See also ESSAYS, FICTION, and TRAVEL)

L Tennyson's Poems. Vol. I, 1830-56. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 44
L ., Vol. fl, 1857-70. 626 [Harrison. 899

Webster and Ford. Plays. Selected, with Introduction, by Dr. G. B.
X. Whitman's (Walt) Leaves of Grass (I), Democratic Vistas, etc. 673

Wilde (Oscar), Plays, Prose Writings and Poems. 858
L Wordsworth's Shorter Poems. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 203
L M Longer Poems. Note by Editor, 311

12

REFERENCE

Atlas of Ancient and Classical Geography. Many coloured and line
Maps; Historical Gazetteer, Index, etc. 451

Biographical Dictionary of English Literature. 449

Biographical Dictionary of Foreign Literature. 900

Dates, Dictionary of. 554

Dictionary 01 Quotations and Proverbs. 2 vote. 809-10.

Everyman's English Dictionary. 776

Literary and Historical Atlas. I. Europe. Many coloured and line Maps;

full Index and Gazetteer. 496

II. America. Do. 553

III. Asia. Do. 633

,, IV. Africa and Australia. Do. 662

Non-Classical Mythology, Dictionary of. 632

Reader's Guide to Everyman's Library. By R. Farquharson Sharp.
Introduction by Ernest Rhys, 889

Roget'a Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases. 2 vols. 630-1.

Smith's Smaller Classical Dictionary. Revised and Edited by K. H.
Blakeney, M.A. 495

Wright's An Encyclopaedia of Gardening. 555

ROMANCE

Aucasein and Nicolette, with other Medieval Romances. 497
Boccaccio's Decameron. (Unabridged.) Translated by J. M. Rigg.

Introduction by Edward Hutton. 2 vols. 845-6
L Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. Introduction by Rev. H. E. Lewis. 204

Burnt Njal, The Story of. Translated by Sir George Dasent. 558
L Cervantes' Don Quixote. Motteux* Translation. Lockhart's Intro-
duction. 2 vols. 385-6
Chretien de Troyes: Eric and Enid. Translated, with Introduction and

Notes, by William Wistar Comfort. 698

French Medieval Romances. Translated by Eugene Mason. 557
Geoffrey of Monmouth's Histories of the Kings of Britain. 577
Grettir Saga, The. Newly Translated by G. Ainslie Bight. 699
Gudrun. Done into English by Margaret Armour. 880
Guest's (Lady) Mabinogion. Introduction by Rev. R. Williams. 97
Heimskringla: The Olaf Sagas. Translated by Samuel Lain?. Intro-
duction and Notes by John Beveridge. 717
Sagas of the Norse Kings. Translated by Samuel Laing.

Introduction and Notes by John Beveridge. 847
Holy Graal, The High History of the. 445

Kalevala. Introduction by W. F. Kirby, F.L.S., F.E.S. 2 vols. 259-60
Le Sage's The Adventures of Gil Bias. Introduction by Anatole Le

Bras. 2 vols. 437-8
Mac Donald's (George) Phantastes: A Faerie Romance. 732

(See also FICTION)

L Malory's Le Morte d' Arthur. Intro, by Professor Rhys. 2 vols. 45-6
L Morris (William): Early Romances. Introduction by Alfred Noyes. 261

The Life and Death of Jason. 575

Morte d* Arthur Romances, Two. Introduction by Lucy A. Paton. 634
Nibelungs, The Fall of the. Translated by Margaret Armour. 312
Rabelais' The Heroid Deeds of Gargantua and Pantagruel. Introduction

by D. B. Wyndham Lewis. 2 vols. 826-7

Wace's Arthurian Romance. Translated by Eugene Mason. Laya-
moii's Brut. Introduction by Lucy A. Patou. 678

SCIENCE

Boyle's The Sceptical Chymist. 559

Darwin's The Origin of Species. Introduction by Sir Arthur Keith. 811

(See also TRAVEL) (Bo/, man. 922

Eddington's The Nature of the Physical World, Introduction by E. F.

Euclid: the Elements of. Todhunter's Edition. Introduction by Sir

Thomas Heath, K.C.B. 891

Faraday's (Michael) Experimental Researches in Electricity. 576
Galton's Inquiries into Human Faculty. Revised by Author. 263
George's (Henry) Progress and Poverty. 560
Hahncmann's (Samuel) The Organon of the Rational Art of Healing.

Introduction by C. E. Wheeler. 663

Harvey's Circulation of the Blood. Introduction by Ernest Parkyn. 262
Howard's State of the Prisons. Introduction by Kenneth Ruck. 835
Huxley's Essays. Introduction by Sir Oliver Lodge. 47

Select Lectures and Lay Sermons. Intro. Sir Oliver Lodge. 498
LyeLTa Antiquity of Man. With an Introduction by R. H. KastaU. 700

SCIENCE continued

Marx's (Karl) Capital. Translated by Eden and Cedar Paul. Intro-
duction by G. D. H. Cole. 2 vols. 848-9
Miller's Old Bed Sandstone. 103

Owen's (Robert) A New View of Society, etc. Intro, by G. D. H. Cole. 799
Rlcardo's Principles of Political Economy and Taxation. 590
Smith's (Adam) The Wealth of Nations. 2 vols. 412-13
Tyndall's Glaciers of the Alps and Mountaineering in 1861. 98
White's Selborne. Introduction by Principal Windle. 48
Wollstonecraft (Mary), The Rights of Woman, with John Stuart Mill's
The Subjection of Women. 825

TRAVEL AND TOPOGRAPHY

Alison's Voyages. Introduction by John Masefleld. 510

Bates' Naturalist on the Amazon. With Illustrations. 446

Belt's The Naturalist in Nicaragua. Intro, by Anthony Belt, P.L.S. 561

Sorrow's (George) The Gypsies in Spain. Intro, by Edward Thomas. 697

L The Bible in Spain. Intro, by Edward Thomas. 151

Wild Wales. Intro, by Theodore Watts-Dunton. 49

(See also FICTION)
Boswell's Tour in the Hebrides with Dr. Johnson. 387

(See also BIOGRAPHY)
Burton's (Sir Richard) First Footsteps in East Africa. 500

J Calderon de la Barca's (Mme.) Life in Mexico. 664
Cobbett's Rural Rides. Introduction by Edward Thomas. 2 vols. 638-9

L Cook's Voyages of Discovery. 99

Crevecoeur's (H. St. John) Letters from an American Farmer. 640
Darwin's Voyage of the Beagle. 104

(See also SCIENCE)

Defoe's Tour Through England and Wales. Introduction by G. D. H.
(See also FICTION) [Cole. 820-1

Dennis' Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria. 2 vols. 183-4
Dufferin's (Lord) Letters from High Latitudes. 499
Ford's Gatherings from Spain. Introduction by Thomas Okey. 152
Franklin's Journey to the Polar Sea. Intro, by Capt. R. F. Scott. 447
Giraldus Cambrensis: Itinerary and Description of Wales. 272
Hakluyt's Voyages. 8 vols. 264, 265, 313, 314, 338, 339, 388, 389

L Kinglake's Eothen. Introduction by Harold Spender, M.A. 337
Lane's Modern Egyptians. With many Illustrations. 315

I Lytton's Pilgrims of the Rhine. 390

(See also FICTION)

Mandeville's (Sir John) Travels. Introduction by Jules Bramont. 812
Park (Mungo): Travels. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 205
Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers. Selected by E. H. Blakeney, M.A. 778

L Polo's (Marco) Travels. Introduction by John Masefleld. 306

Roberts' The Western Avernus. Intro, by Cunninghame Graham. 762

L Speke's Discovery of the Source of the Nile. 50

L Stevenson's An Inland Voyage, Travels with a Donkey, and Silverado
Squatters. 766

(See also ESSAYS, FICTION, and POETRY)

Stow's Survey of London. Introduction by H. B. Wheatley. 589
Wakefleld's Letter from Sydney and Other Writings on Colonization. 828
Waterton's Wanderings in South America. Intro, by E. Sclous. 772
Young's Travels in France and Italy. Intro, by Thomas Okey. 720

FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

$ Abbott's Rollo at Work and Rollo at Play. Intro, by Lucy Crump. 275
it ^Esop's and Other Fables: An Anthology from all sources. 657
L Alcott's Little Men. Introduction by Grace Rhys. 512
L Little Women and Good Wives. Intro, by Grace Rhys. 248

Andersen's Fairy Tales. Illustrated by the Brothers Robinson. 4

,, More Fairy Tales. Illustrated by Mary Shillabeer. 822
Annals of Fairyland. The Reign of King Oberon. 365
The Reign of King Cole. 366

,, The Reign of King Herla. 541

Asgard and the Norse Heroes. Translated by Mrs. Boult. 689
Baker's Cast Up by the Sea. 539
t Ballantyne'B Coral Island. 245

Martin Rattler. 246

Ungava. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 276

L Browne's (Frances) Granny's Wonderful Chair. Introduction by Dortie
Radford. 112

FOR YOUNG PEOPLE continued

Bulflnch's (Thomas) The Axe of Fable. 472

Legends of Charlemagne. Intro, by Ernest Rhys. 556
L Canton's A Child* Book of Saints. Illustrated by T. H. Robinson. 61

(See also ESSAYS)

L Carroll's Alice In Wonderland, Through the Looking-Glass, etc. Illus-
trated by the Author. Introduction by Ernest Rhys. 836
Clarke's Girlhood of Shakespeare's Heroines. 3 vols. 109-11 (Vote. II

and III t)

Tales from Chaucer. 537
Collodi's Pinocchio; or, The Story of a Puppet. 538
Converse's (Florence) The House of Prayer. 923 (See also FICTION)
Cox's (Sir G. W.) Tales of Ancient Greece. 721
L Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. Illustrated by J. A. Symington. 59

(See, also FICTION)

Dodge's (Mary Mapes) Hans Brinker; or, The Silver Skates. 620
Edgar's Heroes of England. 471

(See also FICTION)
JL Ewing's (Mrs.) Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot, illustrated by

R. Caldecott, and The Story of a Short Life. 731
Mrs. Overtheway's Remembrances. 730
L Fairy Gold. Illustrated by Herbert Cole. 157
L Fairy Tales from the Arabian Nights. Illustrated. 249

Freeman's Old English History for Children. 540
L Froissart's Chronicles. 57

Gatty's Parables from Nature. Introduction by Grace Rhys. 158
Grimm's Fairy Tales. Illustrated by R. Anning Bell. 56
L Hawthorne's Wonder Book and Tanglewood Tales. 5

(See also FICTION)

Howard's Rattlin the Reefer. Introduction by Guy Pocock. 857
! Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days. Illustrated by T. Robinson. 58
Ingelow's (Jean) Mopsa the Fairy. Illustrated by Dora Curtis. 619
Jefleries's (Richard) Bevis, the Story of a Boy. Introduction by Guy

Pocock. 850
L Kingsley's Heroes. Introduction by Grace Rhys. 113

Madam How and Lady Why. Introduction by C. I. Gardiner,

L Water Babies and Glaucus. 277 [M.A. 777

(See also POETRY and FICTION)
Kingston's Peter the Whaler. 6
., Three Midshipmen. 7
L Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare. Illustrated by A. Rackham. 8

(See also BIOGRAPHY and ESSAYS)
L Lear (and Others): A Book of Nonsense. 806
L Marryat's Children of the New Forest. 247

Little Savage. Introduction by R. Brimley Johnson. 159
Maeterman Ready. Introduction by R. Brimley Johnson. 160
Settlers in Canada. Introduction by R. Brimley Johnson. 370
(Edited by) Rattlin the Reefer. 857

(See also FICTION)

Martineau's Feats on the Fjords, etc. Illustrated by A. Rackham. 429
Mother Goose's Nursery Rnvmes. Illustrated. 473
Poetry Book for Boys and Girls. Edited by Guy Pocock. 894
Reid's (Mftyne) The Boy Hunters of the Mississippi. 582

,. The Boy Slaves. Introduction by Guy Pocock. 797

Ruskin's The Two Boyhoods and Other Passages. 688

(See also ESSAYS)

L Sewell'a (Anna) Black Beauty. Illustrated by Lucy Kemp- Welch. 748
L Spyri's (Johanna) Heidi. Illustrations by Lizzie Lawson. 431
L Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. 371
L Swift's Gulliver's Travels. Illustrated by A. Rackham. 60

(See also BIOGRAPHY and ESSAYS)

L Swiss Family Robinson. Illustrations by Chas. Folkard. 430
Verne's (Jules) Abandoned. 50 Illustrations. 368

Dropped from the Clouds. 50 Illustrations. 367

L Five Weeks in a Balloon and Around the World in Eighty

Days. Translated by Arthur Chambers and P. Desages.
L Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. 319 [779

,, The Secret of the Islan.i. 50 Illustrations. 369

L Yonge's (Charlotte M.) The Book of Golden Deeds. 330

M The Lances of Lynwood. Illustrated by Dora

Curtis. 579

L The Little Duke. Illustrated by Dora Curtis. 470

(See also FICTION)

.15

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