Of all else I may set store by nothing—neither by mine own body, nor
possessions, nor office, nor good report, nor, in a word, aught else
beside. For it is not His Will, that I should so set store by these
things. Had it been His pleasure, He would have placed my Good therein.
But now He hath not done so: therefore I cannot transgress one jot of
His commands. In everything hold fast to that which is thy Good—but to
all else (as far as is given thee) within the measure of Reason only,
contented with this alone. Else thou wilt meet with failure, ill
success, let and hindrance. These are the Laws ordained of God—these
are His Edicts; these a man should expound and interpret; to these
submit himself, not to the laws of Masurius and Cassius.
CXLV
Remember that not the love of power and wealth sets us under the heel
of others, but even the love of tranquillity, of leisure, of change of
scene—of learning in general, it matters not what the outward thing may
be—to set store by it is to place thyself in subjection to another.
Where is the difference then between desiring to be a Senator, and
desiring not to be one: between thirsting for office and thirsting to
be quit of it? Where is the difference between crying, _Woe is me, I
know not what to do, bound hand and foot as I am to my books so that I
cannot stir!_ and crying, _Woe is me, I have not time to read!_ As
though a book were not as much an outward thing and independent of the
will, as office and power and the receptions of the great.
Or what reason hast thou (tell me) for desiring to read? For if thou
aim at nothing beyond the mere delight of it, or gaining some scrap of
knowledge, thou art but a poor, spiritless knave. But if thou desirest
to study to its proper end, what else is this than a life that flows on
tranquil and serene? And if thy reading secures thee not serenity, what
profits it?—“Nay, but it doth secure it,” quoth he, “and that is why I
repine at being deprived of it.”—And what serenity is this that lies at
the mercy of every passer-by? I say not at the mercy of the Emperor or
Emperor’s favorite, but such as trembles at a raven’s croak and piper’s
din, a fever’s touch or a thousand things of like sort! Whereas the
life serene has no more certain mark than this, that it ever moves with
constant unimpeded flow.
CXLVI
If thou hast put malice and evil speaking from thee, altogether, or in
some degree: if thou hast put away from thee rashness, foulness of
tongue, intemperance, sluggishness: if thou art not moved by what once
moved thee, or in like manner as thou once wert moved—then thou mayest
celebrate a daily festival, to-day because thou hast done well in this
manner, to-morrow in that. How much greater cause is here for offering
sacrifice, than if a man should become Consul or Prefect?
CXLVII
These things hast thou from thyself and from the Gods: only remember
who it is that giveth them—to whom and for what purpose they were
given. Feeding thy soul on thoughts like these, dost thou debate in
what place happiness awaits thee? in what place thou shalt do God’s
pleasure? Are not the Gods nigh unto all places alike; see they not
alike what everywhere comes to pass?
CXLVIII
To each man God hath granted this inward freedom. These are the
principles that in a house create love, in a city concord, among
nations peace, teaching a man gratitude towards God and cheerful
confidence, wherever he may be, in dealing with outward things that he
knows are neither his nor worth striving after.
CXLIX
If you seek Truth, you will not seek to gain a victory by every
possible means; and when you have found Truth, you need not fear being
defeated.
CL
What foolish talk is this? how can I any longer lay claim to right
principles, if I am not content with being what I am, but am all
aflutter about what I am supposed to be?
CLI
God hath made all things in the world, nay, the world itself, free from
hindrance and perfect, and its parts for the use of the whole. No other
creature is capable of comprehending His administration thereof; but
the reasonable being Man possesses faculties for the consideration of
all these things—not only that he is himself a part, but what part he
is, and how it is meet that the parts should give place to the whole.
Nor is this all. Being naturally constituted noble, magnanimous, and
free, he sees that the things which surround him are of two kinds. Some
are free from hindrance and in the power of the will. Other are subject
to hindrance, and depend on the will of other men. If then he place his
own good, his own best interest, only in that which is free from
hindrance and in his power, he will be free, tranquil, happy, unharmed,
noble-hearted, and pious; giving thanks to all things unto God, finding
fault with nothing that comes to pass, laying no charge against
anything. Whereas if he place his good in outward things, depending not
on the will, he must perforce be subject to hindrance and restraint,
the slave of those that have power over the things he desires and
fears; he must perforce be impious, as deeming himself injured at the
hands of God; he must be unjust, as ever prone to claim more than his
due; he must perforce be of a mean and abject spirit.
CLII
Whom then shall I fear? the lords of the Bedchamber, lest they should
shut me out? If they find me desirous of entering in, let them shut me
out, if they will.
“Then why comest thou to the door?”
Because I think it meet and right, so long as the Play lasts, to take
part therein.
“In what sense art thou then shut out?”
Because, unless I am admitted, it is not my _will_ to enter: on the
contrary, my will is simply that which comes to pass. For I esteem what
God wills better than what I will. To Him will I cleave as His minister
and attendant; having the same movements, the same desires, in a word
the same Will as He. There is no such thing as being shut out for me,
but only for them that would force their way in.
CLIII
But what says Socrates?—“One man finds pleasure in improving his land,
another his horses. My pleasure lies in seeing that I myself grow
better day by day.”
CLIV
The dress is suited to the craft; the craftsman takes his name from the
craft, not from the dress. For this reason Euphrates was right in
saying, “I long endeavoured to conceal my following the philosophic
life; and this profited me much. In the first place, I knew that what I
did aright, I did not for the sake of lookers-on, but for my own. I ate
aright—unto myself; I kept the even tenor of my walk, my glance
composed and serene—all unto myself and unto God. Then as I fought
alone, I was alone in peril. If I did anything amiss or shameful, the
cause of Philosophy was not in me endangered; nor did I wrong the
multitude by transgressing as a professed philosopher. Wherefore those
that knew not my purpose marvelled how it came about, that whilst all
my life and conversation was passed with philosophers without
exception, I was yet none myself. And what harm that the philosopher
should be known by his acts, instead of mere outward signs and
symbols?”
CLV
First study to conceal what thou art; seek wisdom a little while unto
thyself. Thus grows the fruit; first, the seed must be buried in the
earth for a little space; there it must be hid and slowly grow, that it
may reach maturity. But if it produce the ear before the jointed stalk,
it is imperfect—a thing from the garden of Adonis. Such a sorry growth
art thou; thou hast blossomed too soon: the winter cold will wither
thee away!
CLVI
First of all, condemn the life thou art now leading: but when thou hast
condemned it, do not despair of thyself—be not like them of mean
spirit, who once they have yielded, abandon themselves entirely and as
it were allow the torrent to sweep them away. No; learn what the
wrestling masters do. Has the boy fallen? “Rise,” they say, “wrestle
again, till thy strength come to thee.” Even thus should it be with
thee. For know that there is nothing more tractable than the human
soul. It needs but to _will_, and the thing is done; the soul is set
upon the right path: as on the contrary it needs but to nod over the
task, and all is lost. For ruin and recovery alike are from within.
CLVII
It is the critical moment that shows the man. So when the crisis is
upon you, remember that God, like a trainer of wrestlers, has matched
you with a rough and stalwart antagonist.—“To what end?” you ask. That
you may prove the victor at the Great Games. Yet without toil and sweat
this may not be!
CLVIII
If thou wouldst make progress, be content to seem foolish and void of
understanding with respect to outward things. Care not to be thought to
know anything. If any should make account of thee, distrust thyself.
CLIX
Remember that in life thou shouldst order thy conduct as at a banquet.
Has any dish that is being served reached thee? Stretch forth thy hand
and help thyself modestly. Doth it pass thee by? Seek not to detain it.
Has it not yet come? Send not forth thy desire to meet it, but wait
until it reaches thee. Deal thus with children, thus with wife; thus
with office, thus with wealth—and one day thou wilt be meet to share
the Banquets of the Gods. But if thou dost not so much as touch that
which is placed before thee, but despisest it, then shalt thou not only
share the Banquets of the Gods, but their Empire also.
CLX
Remember that thou art an actor in a play, and of such sort as the
Author chooses, whether long or short. If it be his good pleasure to
assign thee the part of a beggar, a ruler, or a simple citizen, thine
it is to play it fitly. For thy business is to act the part assigned
thee, well: to choose it, is another’s.
CLXI
Keep death and exile daily before thine eyes, with all else that men
deem terrible, but more especially Death. Then wilt thou never think a
mean though, nor covet anything beyond measure.
CLXII
As a mark is not set up in order to be missed, so neither is such a
thing as natural evil produced in the World.
CLXIII
Piety toward the Gods, to be sure, consists chiefly in thinking rightly
concerning them—that they _are_, and that they govern the Universe with
goodness and justice; and that thou thyself art appointed to obey them,
and to submit under all circumstances that arise; acquiescing
cheerfully in whatever may happen, sure it is brought to pass and
accomplished by the most Perfect Understanding. Thus thou wilt never
find fault with the Gods, nor charge them with neglecting thee.
CLXIV
Lose no time in setting before you a certain stamp of character and
behaviour both when by yourself and in company with others. Let silence
be your general rule; or say only what is necessary and in few words.
We shall, however, when occasion demands, enter into discourse
sparingly. avoiding common topics as gladiators, horse-races, athletes;
and the perpetual talk about food and drink. Above all avoid speaking
of _persons_, either in way of praise or blame, or comparison.
If you can, win over the conversation of your company to what it should
be by your own. But if you find yourself cut off without escape among
strangers and aliens, be silent.
CLXV
Laughter should not be much, nor frequent, nor unrestrained.
CLXVI
Refuse altogether to take an oath if you can, if not, as far as may be.
CLXVII
Banquets of the unlearned and of them that are without, avoid. But if
you have occasion to take part in them, let not your attention be
relaxed for a moment, lest you slip after all into evil ways. For you
may rest assured that be a man ever so pure himself, he cannot escape
defilement if his associates are impure.
CLXVIII
Take what relates to the body as far as the bare use warrants—as meat,
drink, raiment, house and servants. But all that makes for show and
luxury reject.
CLXIX
If you are told that such an one speaks ill of you, make no defence
against what was said, but answer, He surely knew not my other faults,
else he would not have mentioned these only!
CLXX
When you visit any of those in power, bethink yourself that you will
not find him in: that you may not be admitted: that the door may be
shut in your face: that he may not concern himself about you. If with
all this, it is your duty to go, bear what happens, and never say to
yourself, It was not worth the trouble! For that would smack of the
foolish and unlearned who suffer outward things to touch them.
CLXXI
In company avoid frequent and undue talk about your own actions and
dangers. However pleasant it may be to you to enlarge upon the risks
you have run, others may not find such pleasure in listening to your
adventures. Avoid provoking laughter also: it is a habit from which one
easily slides into the ways of the foolish, and apt to diminish the
respect which your neighbors feel for you. To border on coarse talk is
also dangerous. On such occasions, if a convenient opportunity offer,
rebuke the speaker. If not, at least by relapsing into silence,
colouring, and looking annoyed, show that you are displeased with the
subject.
CLXXII
When you have decided that a thing ought to be done, and are doing it,
never shun being _seen_ doing it, even though the multitude should be
likely to judge the matter amiss. For if you are not acting rightly,
shun the act itself; if rightly, however, why fear misplaced censure?
CLXXIII
It stamps a man of mean capacity to spend much time on the things of
the body, as to be long over bodily exercises, long over eating, long
over drinking, long over other bodily functions. Rather should these
things take the second place, while all your care is directed to the
understanding.
CLXXIV
Everything has two handles, one by which it may be borne, the other by
which it may not. If your brother sin against you lay not hold of it by
the handle of injustice, for by that it may not be borne: but rather by
this, that he is your brother, the comrade of your youth; and thus you
will lay hold on it so that it may be borne.
CLXXV
Never call yourself a Philosopher nor talk much among the unlearned
about Principles, but do that which follows from them. Thus at a
banquet, do not discuss how people ought to eat; but eat as you ought.
Remember that Socrates thus entirely avoided ostentation. Men would
come to him desiring to be recommended to philosophers, and he would
conduct them thither himself—so well did he bear being overlooked.
Accordingly if any talk concerning principles should arise among the
unlearned, be you for the most part silent. For you run great risk of
spewing up what you have ill digested. And when a man tells you that
you know nothing and you are not nettled at it, then you may be sure
that you have begun the work.
CLXXVI
When you have brought yourself to supply the needs of the body at small
cost, do not pique yourself on that, nor if you drink only water, keep
saying on each occasion, _I drink water!_ And if you ever want to
practise endurance and toil, do so unto yourself and not unto others—do
not embrace statues!
CLXXVII
When a man prides himself on being able to understand and interpret the
writings of Chrysippus, say to yourself:—
If Chrysippus had not written obscurely, this fellow would have had
nothing to be proud of. But what is it that _I_ desire? To understand
Nature, and to follow her! Accordingly I ask who is the Interpreter. On
hearing that it is Chrysippus, I go to him. But it seems I do not
understand what he wrote. So I seek one to interpret that. So far there
is nothing to pride myself on. But when I have found my interpreter,
what remains is to put in practice his instructions. This itself is the
only thing to be proud of. But if I admire the interpretation and that
alone, what else have I turned out but a mere commentator instead of a
lover of wisdom?—except indeed that I happen to be interpreting
Chrysippus instead of Homer. So when any one says to me, _Prithee, read
me Chrysippus_, I am more inclined to blush, when I cannot show my
deeds to be in harmony and accordance with his sayings.
CLXXVIII
At feasts, remember that you are entertaining two guests, body and
soul. What you give to the body, you presently lose; what you give to
the soul, you keep for ever.
CLXXIX
At meals, see to it that those who serve be not more in number than
those who are served. It is absurd for a crowd of persons to be dancing
attendance on half a dozen chairs.
CLXXX
It is best to share with your attendants what is going forward, both in
the labour of preparation and in the enjoyment of the feast itself. If
such a thing be difficult at the time, recollect that you who are not
weary are being served by those that are; you who are eating and
drinking by those who do neither; you who are talking by those who are
silent; you who are at ease by those who are under constraint. Thus no
sudden wrath will betray you into unreasonable conduct, nor will you
behave harshly by irritating another.
CLXXXI
When Xanthippe was chiding Socrates for making scanty preparation for
entertaining his friends, he answered:—“If they are friends of ours
they will not care for that; if they are not, we shall care nothing for
them!”
CLXXXII
Asked, _Who is the rich man?_ Epictetus replied, “_He who is content_.”
CLXXXIII
Favorinus tells us how Epictetus would also say that there were two
faults far graver and fouler than any others—inability to bear, and
inability to forbear, when we neither patiently bear the blows that
must be borne, nor abstain from the things and the pleasures we ought
to abstain from. “So,” he went on, “if a man will only have these two
words at heart, and heed them carefully by ruling and watching over
himself, he will for the most part fall into no sin, and his life will
be tranquil and serene.” He meant the words [Greek: Anechou kai
apechou]—“Bear and Forbear.”
CLXXXIV
On all occasions these thoughts should be at hand:—
Lead me, O God, and Thou, O Destiny
Be what it may the goal appointed me,
Bravely I’ll follow; nay, and if I would not,
I’d prove a coward, yet must follow still!
Again:
Who to Necessity doth bow aright,
Is learn’d in wisdom and the things of God.
Once more:—
Crito, if this be God’s will, so let it be. As for me, Anytus and
Meletus can indeed put me to death, but injure me, never!
CLXXXV
We shall then be like Socrates, when we can indite hymns of praise to
the Gods in prison.
CLXXXVI
It is hard to combine and unite these two qualities, the carefulness of
one who is affected by circumstances, and the intrepidity of one who
heeds them not. But it is not impossible: else were happiness also
impossible. We should act as we do in seafaring.
“What can I do?”—Choose the master, the crew, the day, the opportunity.
Then comes a sudden storm. What matters it to me? my part has been
fully done. The matter is in the hands of another—the Master of the
ship. The ship is foundering. What then have I to do? I do the only
thing that remains to me—to be drowned without fear, without a cry,
without upbraiding God, but knowing that what has been born must
likewise perish. For I am not Eternity, but a human being—a part of the
whole, as an hour is part of the day. I must come like the hour, and
like the hour must pass!
CLXXXVII
And now we are sending you to Rome to spy out the land; but none send a
coward as such a spy, that, if he hear but a noise and see a shadow
moving anywhere, loses his wits and comes flying to say, _The enemy are
upon us!_
So if _you_ go now, and come and tell us: “Everything at Rome is
terrible: Death is terrible, Exile is terrible, Slander is terrible,
Want is terrible; fly, comrades! the enemy are upon us!” we shall
reply, Get you gone, and prophesy to yourself! we have but erred in
sending such a spy as you. Diogenes, who was sent as a spy long before
you, brought us back another report than this. He says that Death is no
evil; for it need not even bring shame with it. He says that Fame is
but the empty noise of madmen. And what report did this spy bring us of
Pain, what of Pleasure, what of Want? That to be clothed in sackcloth
is better than any purple robe; that sleeping on the bare ground is the
softest couch; and in proof of each assertion he points to his own
courage, constancy, and freedom; to his own healthy and muscular frame.
“There is no enemy near,” he cries, “all is perfect peace!”
CLXXXVIII
If a man has this peace—not the peace proclaimed by Cæsar (how indeed
should _he_ have it to proclaim?), nay, but the peace proclaimed by God
through reason, will not that suffice him when alone, when he beholds
and reflects:—Now can no evil happen unto me; for me there is no
robber, for me no earthquake; all things are full of peace, full of
tranquillity; neither highway nor city nor gathering of men, neither
neighbor nor comrade can do me hurt. Another supplies my food, whose
care it is; another my raiment; another hath given me perceptions of
sense and primary conceptions. And when He supplies my necessities no
more, it is that He is sounding the retreat, that He hath opened the
door, and is saying to thee, Come!—Wither? To nought that thou needest
fear, but to the friendly kindred elements whence thou didst spring.
Whatsoever of fire is in thee, unto fire shall return; whatsoever of
earth, unto earth; of spirit, unto spirit; of water, unto water. There
is no Hades, no fabled rivers of Sighs, of Lamentation, or of Fire: but
all things are full of Beings spiritual and divine. With thoughts like
these, beholding the Sun, Moon, and Stars, enjoying earth and sea, a
man is neither helpless nor alone!
CLXXXIX
What wouldst thou be found doing when overtaken by Death? If I might
choose, I would be found doing some deed of true humanity, of wide
import, beneficent and noble. But if I may not be found engaged in
aught so lofty, let me hope at least for this—what none may hinder,
what is surely in my power—that I may be found raising up in myself
that which had fallen; learning to deal more wisely with the things of
sense; working out my own tranquillity, and thus rendering that which
is its due to every relation of life. . . .
If death surprise me thus employed, it is enough if I can stretch forth
my hands to God and say, “The faculties which I received at Thy hands
for apprehending this thine Administration, I have not neglected. As
far as in me lay, I have done Thee no dishonour. Behold how I have used
the senses, the primary conceptions which Thous gavest me. Have I ever
laid anything to Thy charge? Have I ever murmured at aught that came to
pass, or wished it otherwise? Have I in anything transgressed the
relations of life? For that Thou didst beget me, I thank Thee for that
Thou hast given: for the time during which I have used the things that
were Thine, it suffices me. Take them back and place them wherever Thou
wilt! They were all Thine, and Thou gavest them me.”—If a man depart
thus minded, is it not enough? What life is fairer and more noble, what
end happier than his?
(APPENDIX A)
Fragments Attributed to Epictetus
I
A life entangled with Fortune is like a torrent. It is turbulent and
muddy; hard to pass and masterful of mood: noisy and of brief
continuance.
II
The soul that companies with Virtue is like an ever-flowing source. It
is a pure, clear, and wholesome draught; sweet, rich, and generous of
its store; that injures not, neither destroys.
III
It is a shame that one who sweetens his drink with the gifts of the
bee, should embitter God’s gift Reason with vice.
IV
Crows pick out the eyes of the dead, when the dead have no longer need
of them; but flatterers mar the soul of the living, and _her_ eyes they
blind.
V
Keep neither a blunt knife nor an ill-disciplined looseness of tongue.
VI
Nature hath given men one tongue but two ears, that we may hear from
others twice as much as we speak.
VII
Do not give sentence in another tribunal till you have been yourself
judged in the tribunal of Justice.
VIII
If is shameful for a Judge to be judged by others.
IX
Give me by all means the shorter and nobler life, instead of one that
is longer but of less account!
X
Freedom is the name of virtue: Slavery, of vice. . . . None is a slave
whose acts are free.
XI
Of pleasures, those which occur most rarely give the most delight.
XII
Exceed due measure, and the most delightful things become the least
delightful.
XIII
The anger of an ape—the threat of a flatterer:—these deserve equal
regard.
XIV
Chastise thy passions that they avenge not themselves upon thee.
XV
No man is free who is not master of himself.
XVI
A ship should not ride on a single anchor, nor life on a single hope.
XVII
Fortify thyself with contentment: that is an impregnable stronghold.
XVIII
No man who is a lover of money, of pleasure, of glory, is likewise a
lover of Men; but only he that is a lover of whatsoever things are fair
and good.
XIX
Think of God more often than thou breathest.
XX