CHAPTER XXVII.

THAT A MAN SHOULD BE ONE MAN.

1. In every work you will take in hand mark well what must go before and

what must follow, and so proceed. For else you shall at first set out

eagerly, as not regarding what is to follow; but in the end, if any

difficulties have arisen, you will leave it off with shame.

2. So you wish to conquer in the Olympic games? And I, too, by the Gods;

and a fine thing it would be. But mark the prefaces and the

consequences, and then set to work. You must go under discipline, eat by

rule, abstain from dainties, exercise yourself at the appointed hour, in

heat or cold, whether you will or no, drink nothing cold, nor wine at

will; in a word, you must give yourself over to the trainer as to a

physician. Then in the contest itself there is the digging race,[1] and

you are like enough to dislocate your wrist, or turn your ankle, to

swallow a great deal of dust, to be soundly drubbed, and after all these

things to be defeated.

3. If, having considered these things, you are still in the mind to

enter for the contest, then do so. But without consideration you will

turn from one thing to another like a child, who now plays the wrestler,

now the gladiator, now sounds the trumpet, then declaims like an actor;

and so you, too, will be first an athlete, then a gladiator, then an

orator, then a philosopher, and nothing with your whole soul; but as an

ape you will mimic everything you see, and be charmed with one thing

after another. For you approached nothing with consideration nor

regularity, but rashly, and with a cold desire.

4. And thus some men, having seen a philosopher, and heard discourse

like that of Euphrates[2] (yet who indeed can say that any discourse is

like his?), desire that they also may become philosophers.

5. But, O man! consider first what it is you are about to do, and then

inquire of your own nature whether you can carry it out. Will you be a

pentathlos,[3] or a wrestler? Then, scan your arms and thighs; try your

loins. For different men are made for different ends.

6. Think you, you can be a sage, and continue to eat and drink and be

wrathful and take offense just as you were wont? Nay, but you must watch

and labor, and withdraw yourself from your household, and be despised by

any serving boy, and be ridiculed by your neighbors, and take the lower

place everywhere, in honors, in authority, in courts of justice, in

dealings of every kind.[4]

7. Consider these things--whether you are willing at such a price to

gain peace, freedom, and an untroubled spirit. And if not, then attempt

it not, nor, like a child, play now the philosopher, then the

tax-gatherer, then the orator, then the Procurator of Cæsar. For these

things agree not among themselves; and, good or bad, it behooves you to

be one man. You should be perfecting either your own ruling faculty, or

your outward well-being; spending your art either on the life within or

the life without; that is to say, you must hold your place either among

the sages or the vulgar.

END OF BOOK II.

_BOOK III._

CHAPTER I.

OBLIGATIONS.

1. Obligations are universally defined by the bonds of relation. Is such

a man your father? Then it is implied that you are to take care of him,

to give place to him in all things, to bear his rebukes, his

chastisement. _But if he be a bad father?_ Were you then related by any

law of Nature to a good father? Nay, but simply to a father. Your

brother does you wrong. Then guard your own place towards him, nor

scrutinize what he is doing, but what you may do to keep your will in

accord with Nature. For none other shall hurt you, if yourself choose it

not, but you shall be hurt then when you conceive yourself to be so.

2. Thus shall you discover your obligations from the offices of a

neighbor, a citizen, a general, if you will accustom yourself to watch

the relationships.

CHAPTER II.

AGAINST EPICURUS.

1. Even Epicurus is conscious that we are by nature social, but having

once placed the Good in the husk,[1] he cannot thereafter speak anything

but what agrees with this; for again he affirms, and rightly affirms,

that nothing is to be admired or received that is separated from the

nature of the Good. How, then, Epicurus, do you suspect that we are

social, if Nature had given us no affection for our offspring?[2]

Wherefore do you counsel the sage against bringing up children? Why do

you fear lest he fall into sorrow by so doing? Doth he fall into sorrow

for the mouse that lives in his house? What careth he if a little mouse

complain to him at home. But he knows well that if a little child be

born, it is no longer in our power not to love it and be anxious for it.

2. Thus, too, he saith that no man of sense will take part in affairs

of the state, for he knows what he who takes part in them must do; but

what should hinder one to take part, if he may behave among men as in a

swarm of flies? But Epicurus, knowing these things, dares to say that we

should not rear up our children. But even a sheep will not desert its

young, nor a wolf; and shall a man? _What! will you have us to be silly

creatures, like the sheep?_ Yet they desert not their young. _Or savage,

like wolves?_ Yet even they desert them not. Come, then, who would obey

you if he saw his little child fall on the ground and cry? For my part,

I suppose that had it been prophesied to your mother and your father

that you would say these things, not even so would they have cast you

out.

3. _But how can it be said of these outward things_[3] _that they are

according to Nature, or contrary to Nature?_ That is to speak as if we

were solitary and disunited from others. For to the foot I shall say it

is according to Nature that it be clean; but if you take it as a foot,

and not as a solitary thing, it shall beseem it to go into the mud, and

to tread on thorns, and perchance to be cut off, for the sake of the

whole; otherwise it is no longer a foot.

4. And some such thing we should suppose about ourselves also. What art

thou? A man. Look at thyself as a solitary creature, and it is according

to Nature to live to old age, to grow rich, to keep good health. But if

thou look at thyself as a man, and as a part of a certain Whole, for the

sake of that Whole it may become thee now to have sickness, now to sail

the seas and run into peril, now to suffer need, and perchance to die

before thy time.

5. Why, then, dost thou bear it hard? Knowest thou not, that as the foot

alone is not a foot, so thou alone art not a man? For what is a man? A

part of a polity, first of that which is made up of Gods and men; then

of that which is said to be next to the other, which is a small copy of

the Universal Polity.

6. _Then must I now be brought to trial, and now must another have a

fever, and another sail the seas, another die, another be sentenced?_

Yea, for with such a body, in the bounds of such a universe, in such a

throng of inhabitants, it cannot be but that different things of this

nature should fall on different persons. This is thy task, then, having

come into the world, to speak what thou shouldst, and to order these

things as it is fitting.

7. Then some one saith, _I charge you with wrong-doing_. Much good may

it do thee! I have done my part--look to it thyself if thou have done

thine, for of this too there is some danger, lest it escape thee.

CHAPTER III.

AGAINST THE EPICUREANS AND ACADEMICS.

1. Beliefs which are sound and manifestly true are of necessity used

even by those who deny them. And perhaps a man might adduce this as the

greatest possible proof of the manifest truth of anything, that those

who deny it are compelled to make use of it. Thus, if a man should deny

that there is anything universally true, it is clear that he is obliged

to affirm the contrary, the negation--that there is nothing universally

true. Slave! not even this--for what is this but to say that if there is

anything universal it is falsehood?

2. Again, if one should come and say, _Know that nothing can be known,

but all things are incapable of proof; or another, Believe me, and it

shall profit thee, that no man ought to believe any man_; or again,

another, _Learn from me, O man, that it is not possible to learn

anything, and I tell thee this, and I will teach thee, if thou

wilt_--now wherein do such men differ from those--whom shall I

say?--those who call themselves Academics? _Assent, O men, that no man

can assent to aught; believe us that no man can believe any one._

3. Thus Epicurus, when he would abolish the natural fellowship of men

with one another, employeth the very thing that is being abolished. For

what saith he? _Be not deceived, O men, nor misguided nor

mistaken--there is no natural fellowship among reasoning beings, believe

me; and those who speak otherwise deceive us with sophisms._ What is

that to thee? let us be deceived! Will it be the worse for thee if all

other men are persuaded that we have a natural fellowship with one

another, and that we should in all ways maintain it? Nay--but much the

better and safer. Man, why dost thou take thought for us, and watch at

night for our sakes? Why dost thou kindle thy lamp and rise early? why

dost thou write so many books, lest any of us should be deceived about

the Gods, in supposing that they cared for men? or lest any one should

take the essence of the Good to be anything else than Pleasure? For if

these things are so, then lie down and sleep, and live the life of a

worm, wherefor thou hast judged thyself fit; eat and drink and cohabit

and ease thyself and snore. What is it to thee how other men think

concerning these matters, whether soundly or unsoundly? What hast thou

to do with us? With sheep hast thou some concern, for that they serve us

when they are shorn, and when they are milked, and at last when they

have their throats cut. Were it not, then, to be desired, if men could

be lulled and charmed to slumber by the Stoics, and give themselves to

thee and the like of thee, to be shorn and milked? These things shouldst

thou say to thy brother Epicureans; but shouldst thou not keep them

hidden from other men, and seek in every way to persuade them above all

things that we are by nature social, and that temperance is good; in

order that everything may be kept for thee? Or should we preserve this

fellowship with some and not with others? With whom, then, should we

preserve it? With those who also preserve it towards us, or with those

who transgress it? And who transgress it more than ye, who set forth

such doctrines?

4. What, then, was it that roused up Epicurus from his sleep, and

compelled him to write the things he wrote? What else than Nature, the

mightiest of all powers in humanity? Nature, that drags the man,

reluctant and groaning, to her will. _For_, saith she, _since it seems

to thee that there is no fellowship among men, write this down, and

deliver it to others, and watch and wake for this, and be thyself by

thine own deed the accuser of thine own opinions_. Shall we, then, say

that Orestes was driven by the Furies and aroused from sleep, and did

not crueller Furies and Avengers rouse this man as he slumbered, and

suffered him not to rest, but compelled him, as madness and wine the

priests of Cybele,[1] to proclaim his own evils? So mighty and

invincible a thing is man's nature.

5. For how can a vine be affected, and not in the manner of a vine, but

of an olive? Or how, again, can an olive be affected not in the manner

of an olive but of a vine? It is impossible, it cannot be conceived.

Neither, then, is it possible for a man wholly to lose the affections of

humanity, for even eunuchs cannot cut away for themselves the desires

of men. And thus Epicurus has cut away all that belongs to a man as

father of a family, and as citizen, and as friend; but the desires of

humanity he hath not cut away, for he could not; no more than these

pitiful Academics are able to cast away or to blind their own

perceptions, although this is the thing that they have striven with all

their zeal to do.

6. How shameful is this! that a man having received from Nature measures

and canons for the recognition of truth, should study not to add to them

and perfect them where they are wanting, but the very contrary of this;

if there be anything that may lead us to the knowledge of the truth,

they strive to abolish and destroy it.

7. What sayest thou, philosopher? religion and holiness, what dost thou

take them for?[2]

----"If thou wilt, I shall prove that they are good."

So be it; prove it then, in order that our citizens may be converted and

honor the Divinity, and be no longer neglectful of the greatest things.

----"Now hast thou received the proofs?"

I have, and am thankful therefor.

8.----"Now since thou art exceedingly well pleased with these things,

hear the contrary: There are no Gods, or if there be, they have no care

for men, nor have we any communion with them; and this religion and

holiness, whereof the multitude babble, is the lying of impostors and

sophists, or of legislators, by Zeus! for the frighting and restraining

of evil-doers."

Well said, philosopher! the citizens shall have much profit of thee!

thou hast already brought back all our youths to the contempt of sacred

things.

----"What now? are these doctrines not pleasing to thee? Learn, then,

that Righteousness is nothing, that Reverence is folly, that a father is

nothing, a son nothing."

Well said, philosopher! proceed, persuade the young, that we may

multiply the number of those who believe and speak with thee. From these

teachings have grown our well-governed States, from these did Sparta

spring, and these beliefs, by his laws and discipline, did Lycurgus

plant among his people:--That slavery is no more base than honorable,

nor to be free men more honorable than base. Through these opinions died

those who fell at Thermopylæ, and through what others did the Athenians

forsake their city?[8]

9. Then those who speak such things marry, and beget children, and take

part in public affairs, and make themselves priests and augurs--of what?

Of beings that do not exist! and they question the Pythian oracle that

they may learn falsehoods; and they declare the oracles to others. O

monstrous impudence and imposture!

CHAPTER IV

ON SLAVERY.

1. A certain man having inquired how one may make his meals in a manner

pleasing to the Gods, If he do it uprightly, said Epictetus, and

considerately, and equably, and temperately, and orderly, shall it not

also be thus pleasing to the Gods? But when you ask for hot water, and

the boy does not hear, or, hearing, brings it only luke-warm; or if he

is not even to be found in the house, then is it not pleasing to the

Gods if you refrain from indignation, and do not burst with passion?

_How shall one endure such fellows?_ Wretch, wilt thou not bear with

thine own brother, who is of the progeny of Zeus, like a son sprung of

the same seed as thyself, and of the same heavenly descent, but thou

must straightway make thyself a tyrant, for the place of command in

which thou art set? Wilt thou not remember who thou art, and whom thou

rulest--that they are kinsmen, brethren by nature, the progeny of Zeus?

_But I have bought them, and they have not bought me!_ Seest thou, then,

whither thou art looking--towards the earth, towards the pit of

perdition, towards these miserable laws of dead men? but towards the

laws of the Gods thou dost not look.

2. That which thou wouldst not suffer thyself, seek not to lay upon

others. Thou wouldst not be a slave--look to it that others be not

slaves to thee. For if thou endure to have slaves, it seems that thou

thyself art first of all a slave. For virtue hath no communion with vice

nor freedom with slavery.

3. As one who is in health would not choose to be served by the sick,

nor that those dwelling with him should be sick, so neither would one

that is free bear to be served by slaves, or that those living with him

should be slaves.[1]

CHAPTER V.

TO THE ADMINISTRATOR OF THE FREE CITIES, WHO WAS AN EPICUREAN.

1. The Administrator[1] having visited him (and this man was an

Epicurean), It is proper, said Epictetus, that ignorant people like us

should inquire of you that are philosophers (as men who come into a

strange city make inquiry of the citizens and those familiar with the

place) what is the chief thing in the world, to the end that, having

learned it, we may go in search of it, and behold it, as men do with

objects in the cities.

2. Now, that there are three things with which man is concerned--soul,

and body, and the outer world--scarce any one will deny. It remaineth,

then, for men like ye to answer which is the chief of these things? What

shall we declare to men? Is it the flesh? And was it for this that

Maximus sent forth his son, and sailed with him through the tempest as

far as Cassiope,[2] for somewhat that he should feel in the flesh?

3. But the Epicurean denying this, and saying, _God forbid_, Epictetus

said:

Is it not fit, then, that we should be zealous about that, the chief

thing?

----"Of all things most fit."

What, then, have we greater than the flesh?

----"The soul," he said.

And the good of the chief thing, is it greater than the good of the

lower thing?

----"The good of the chief thing is greater."

And the good things of the soul, are they in the power of the Will, or

beyond the Will?

----"They are in the power of the Will."

The pleasure of the soul, then, is within the power of the Will?

He assented.

And this pleasure itself, whence may it arise? From itself? But this is

inconceivable; for we must suppose some original substance of the Good,

whereof the soul doth make us sensible when we light upon it.

This, too, he admitted.

Wherein, then, are we sensible of this spiritual pleasure? for if it be

in spiritual things, the nature of the Good is discovered. For the Good

cannot be something different from the thing that justly delights us;

nor, if the original thing be not good, can aught be good that proceeds

from it; for, in order that the thing proceeding may be good, the

original thing must be good also. But this ye would never say, if ye had

your wits, for so ye would speak things that agree not with Epicurus and

the rest of your opinions. It remains, then, that we are conscious in

bodily things of this pleasure of the soul, and again, that these are

the original things and the very substance of the Good.[3]

4. Wherefore Maximus did foolishly if he made his voyage for the sake of

anything else than the flesh; that is, than the chief thing. And any man

doth foolishly who restraineth himself from others' good, if he be a

judge, and able to take them. But, if you please, let us regard this

only, how it may be done secretly and safely, and so that none may know

it. For neither does Epicurus himself declare stealing to be bad, but

only to be caught stealing; and because it is impossible to be certain

of no discovery, therefore he saith, _Ye shall not steal_. But I say

that if we steal with skill and discretion, we shall not be caught. And,

moreover, if we have powerful friends among men and women at Rome, and

the Greeks are feeble, no one will dare to go thither on this score. Why

do you refrain from your own good? This is foolish--this is absurd. But

not even if you tell me you do refrain will I believe you. For, as it is

impossible to assent to anything that appeareth to be a falsehood or to

turn away from what appeareth to be true, even so it is impossible to

withhold oneself from anything that appeareth to be good. But riches are

a good, and, at all events, the most potent means of pleasure.

Wherefore, then, not compass them? And why not corrupt our neighbor's

wife, if we may do it secretly? and also, if the husband talk nonsense

about it, let us fling him out! If you will be a true and perfect

philosopher, and obedient to your own doctrines, thus must you do; but

if you do not, you differ no whit from us that are called Stoics. For

truly we ourselves say one thing and do another; we speak fair and

honest things, and do vile ones. But the opposite distemper will be

thine--a vile creed and honorable deeds.

5. And you think, God help you! of a city of Epicureans? _I do not

marry. Nor I; for it is not right to marry, nor beget children, nor take

part in public affairs._ What will come to pass then? Whence shall we

have citizens? who shall educate them? who shall be the overseer of

youth?[4] who the director of gymnastics? and how shall the youth be

trained up? as the Lacedæmonians? or as the Athenians? Take me a youth,

and bring him up after these doctrines of thine! Evil are they,

subversive of States, mischievous to households, unbecoming to women.

Abandon them, man! Thou dwellest in a chief city; it is thy part to

rule, to judge righteously, to refrain from other men's goods; nor must

any woman seem beautiful to thee save thine own wife, nor vessel of gold

or silver. Seek for doctrines in harmony with these words, from which

setting out thou mayest with gladness abandon things so potent to

attract and overcome. But if beside the seduction of these things we

have sought out some philosophy like this that pushes us towards them,

and confirms us in them, what shall come of it?

6. In the graver's work, which is the chief thing? the silver or the

art? The substance of the hand is flesh, but the main things are the

works of the hand. The obligations, therefore, are also three--those

that concern us, firstly, in that we are; and secondly, as we are; and

thirdly, the main things themselves. And thus in man, too, it is not

meet to value the material, this flesh, but the main things. What are

these? To take part in public affairs, to marry, to beget children, to

fear God, to care for parents, and, in general, to pursue, to avoid, to

desire, to dislike, as each of these things should be done, as Nature

made us to do. And how made she us? To be free, generous, pious. For

what other creature blushes? what other is capable of the sense of

shame?

7. And to these things let Pleasure be subject as a minister, a servant,

that she may summon forth our ardor, and that she also may aid in works

that are according to Nature.[5]

8. ----"But I am a wealthy man, and have no need of aught."

Why, then, dost thou profess philosophy? Thy vessels of gold and vessels

of silver are enough for thee; what need hast thou of doctrines?

----"But I am also a judge of the Greeks!"

Dost thou know how to judge--who made thee know?

----"Cæsar wrote me a commission."

Let him write thee a commission to be a judge of music, and what help

will it be to thee? And how didst thou become a judge? by kissing of

what man's hand? Was it that of Symphorus or Numenius? Before whose

bed-chamber didst thou sleep? To whom didst thou send gifts? Dost thou

not perceive, then, that to be a judge is worth just as much as Numenius

is worth?

----"But I can cast into prison whom I will."

As if he were a stone.

----"But I can flog any man I will."

As if he were an ass. This is no government of men. Rule us as reasoning

beings; show us what is for our good, and we shall follow it; show us

what is for our ill, and we shall turn away from it; make us emulators

of thyself, as Socrates made his disciples. He, indeed, was one that

governed men as men, who made them subject unto him in their pursuit and

their avoidance, their desire and dislike. _Do this, do not this, or I

will cast thee into prison._ This is not the rule of reasoning beings.

But, _As Zeus hath ordered, so do thou act; but if thou dost not, thou

shall suffer loss and hurt_. What hurt? _None other than this--not to

have done what it behooved thee to do. Thou shall lose faith, piety,

decency--look for no greater injuries than these._

CHAPTER VI.

ON STATECRAFT.

1. Not with the stones of Euboea and Sparta let the structure of your

city walls be variegated; but let the discipline and teaching that comes

from Greece penetrate with order the minds of citizens and statesmen.

For with the thoughts of men are cities well established, and not with

wood and stone.

2. If thou wouldst have a household well established, then follow the

example of the Spartan Lycurgus. For even as he did not fence the city

with walls, but fortified the inhabitants with virtue, and so preserved

the city free for ever, thus do thou not surround thyself with a great

court and set up lofty towers, but confirm the dwellers in the house

with good-will, and faith, and friendliness, and no harmful thing shall

enter; no, not if the whole army of evil were arrayed against it.

3. Which of us will not admire Lycurgus, the Lacedæmonian? For having

lost an eye at the hands of one of the citizens, and having received the

young man from the people that he should punish him as he would, he

refrained from this; but having taught him and proved him to be a good

man, he brought him into the theater. And when the Lacedæmonians

marveled, _I received this man from you_, he said, _insolent and

violent; I give him back to you mild and civil_.

CHAPTER VII.

ON FRIENDSHIP.

1. Whereinsoever a man is zealous, this, it is fair to suppose, he

loveth. Are men, then, zealous for evil things? Never.[1] Or, perchance,

for things which do not concern them? Nor for them either. It

remaineth, then, that they are zealous about good things only; and that

if they are zealous about them, they also love them. Whosoever, then,

hath understanding of good things, the same would know how to love. But

he who is not able to distinguish good things from evil, and things that

are neither from both, how could this man yet be capable of loving? To

love, then, is a quality of the wise alone.

2. _And how is this_, saith one, _for I am foolish, and none the less do

I love my child_. By the Gods! I wonder, then, how you have begun by

confessing yourself to be foolish. For wherein do you lack? Do you not

use your senses? do you not judge of appearances? do you not bring to

the body the nourishment it needeth, and the covering and habitation?

Wherefore, then, confess yourself to be a fool? Because, forsooth, you

are often perplexed by appearances, and troubled, and you are vanquished

by their plausibility; and you take the same things to be now good, and

now evil, and then indifferent; and, in a word, you grieve and fear and

envy, and are troubled, and changed--for these things you confess

yourself a fool.

3. But do you never change in love? But is it wealth, and pleasure,

and, in short, things, alone that you sometimes take to be good and

sometimes evil? and do you not take the same men to be now good, now

evil? and sometimes you are friendly disposed towards them, and

sometimes hostile? and sometimes you praise them, and sometimes you

blame?

----"Yea, even so I do."

What then? a man who hath been deceived about another, is he, think you,

his friend?

----"Assuredly not."

And one who hath taken a friend out of a humor for change, hath he

good-will towards him?

----"Nor he either."

And he who now reviles another, and afterwards reveres him?

----"Nor he."

What then? Sawest thou never the whelps of a dog, how they fawn and

sport with each other, that you would say nothing can be more loving?

But to know what friendship is, fling a piece of flesh among them, and

thou shalt learn. And cast between thee and thy child a scrap of land,

and thou shalt learn how the child will quickly wish to bury thee, and

thou wilt pray that he may die. And then thou wilt say, _What a child

have I nourished! this long time he is burying me!_ Throw a handsome

girl between you, and the old man will love her, and the young too;[2]

and if it be glory, or some risk to run, it will be on the same fashion.

You will speak the words of the father of Admetus[3]:--

"Day gladdens thee; think'st thou it glads not me?

Thou lovest light; think'st thou I love the dark?"

Think you this man did not love his own child when it was little? nor

was in agony if it had a fever? nor said many a time, _Would that I had

the fever rather than he!_ Then when the trial cometh and is near at

hand, lo, what words they utter! And Eteocles and Polyneices,[4] were

they not children of the same mother and the same father? were they not

brought up together, did they not live together, drink together, sleep

together, and often kiss one another? So that any one who saw them, I

think, would have laughed at the philosophers, for the things they say

perversely about friendship. But when royalty, like a piece of flesh,

hath fallen between them, hear what things they speak:--

"_Pol._ Where wilt thou stand before the towers?"

"_Et._ Wherefore seekest thou to know?"

"_Pol._ There I too would stand and slay thee."

"_Et._ Thou hast spoken my desire."

4. For universally, be not deceived, nothing is so dear to any creature

as its own profit. Whatsoever may seem to hinder this, be it father or

child or friend or lover, this he will hate and abuse and curse. For

Nature hath never so made anything as to love aught but its own profit:

this is father and brother and kin and country and God. When, then, the

Gods appear to hinder us in this, we revile even them, and overthrow

their images and burn their temples; as Alexander, when his friend died,

commanded to burn the temples of Esculapius.

5. Therefore, if a man place in the same thing both profit and holiness,

and the beautiful and fatherland, and parents and friends, all these

things shall be saved; but if he place profit in one thing, and friends

and fatherland and kinsfolk, yea, and righteousness itself some other

where, all these things shall perish, for profit shall outweigh them.

For where the I and the Mine are, thither, of necessity, inclineth every

living thing: if in the flesh, then the supremacy is there; if in the

Will, it is there; if in outward things, it is there. If, then, mine I

is where my Will is, thus only shall I be the friend I should be, or the

son or the father. For my profit then will be to cherish faith and piety

and forbearance and continence and helpfulness; and to guard the bonds

of relation. But if I set Myself in one place and Virtue some

otherwhere, then the word of Epicurus waxeth strong, which declareth

that there is no Virtue, or, at least, that Virtue is but conceit.

6. Through this ignorance did Athenians and Lacedæmonians quarrel with

each other, and Thebans with both of them, and the Great King with

Hellas, and Macedonians with both of them, and even now Romans with

Getæ; and through this yet earlier the wars of Ilion arose. Paris was

the guest of Menelaus; and if any one had seen how friendly-minded

towards each other they were, he would have disbelieved any one who said

they were not friends. But a morsel was flung between them--a fair

woman, and about her there was war. And now when you see friends or

brothers that seem to be of one mind, argue nothing from this concerning

their friendship; nay, not if they swear it, not if they declare that

they cannot be parted from each other. For in the ruling faculty of a

worthless man there is no faith; it is unstable, unaccountable, victim

of one appearance after another. But try them, not, as others do, if

they were born of the same parents and nurtured together, and under the

same tutor; but by this alone, wherein they place their profit, whether

in outward things or in the will. If in outward things, call them no

more friends than faithful or steadfast or bold or free; yea, nor even

men, if you had sense. For that opinion hath nothing of humanity that

makes men bite each other, and revile each other, and haunt the

wildernesses, or the public places, like the mountains,[5] and in the

courts of justice to show forth the character of thieves; nor that which

makes men drunkards and adulterers and corruptors, nor whatever other

ills men work against each other through this one and only opinion, that

They and Theirs lie in matters beyond the Will. But if you hear, in

sooth, that these men hold the Good to be there only where the Will is,

where the right use of appearances is, then be not busy to inquire if

they are father and son, or brothers, or have long time companied with

each other as comrades; but, knowing this one thing alone, argue

confidently that they are friends, even as they are faithful and

upright. For where else is friendship than where faith is, where piety

is, where there is an interchange of virtue, and none of other things

than that?

7. _But such a one hath shown kindness to me so long, and is he not my

friend?_ Slave, whence knowest thou if he did not show thee kindness as

he wipes his shoes or tends his beast? Whence knowest thou if, when thy

use is at an end as a vessel, he will not cast thee away like a broken

plate? _But she is my wife, and we have lived together so long?_ And how

long lived Eriphyle with Amphiaraus, and was the mother, yea, of many

children? But a necklace came between them.[6] But what is a necklace?

It is the opinion men have concerning such things. That was the wild

beast nature, that was the sundering of love, that which would not allow

the woman to be a wife, or the mother a mother. And of you, whosoever

hath longed either to be a friend himself or to win some other for a

friend, let him cut out these opinions, let him hate them and drive them

from his soul.

8. And thus he will not revile himself, nor be at strife with himself,

nor be variable, nor torment himself. And to another, if it be one like

himself, he will be altogether as to himself, but with one unlike he

will be forbearing and gentle and mild, ready to forgive him as an

ignorant man, as one who is astray about the greatest things; but harsh

to no man, being well assured of that dogma of Plato, that no soul is

willingly deprived of the truth.

9. But otherwise you may do all things whatsoever, even as friends are

wont to do, and drink together, and dwell together, and voyage together,

and be born from the same parents, for so are snakes; but friends they

are not, nor are ye, so long as ye hold these accursed doctrines of wild

beasts.

CHAPTER VIII.

TIME AND CHANGE.

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

abject with others, or unfortunate with others, but to prosper with

them. But if any one is unfortunate, remember that it is of his own

doing. For God hath made all men to be happy, and of good estate. For

this end hath He granted means and occasions, giving some things to each

man as his own concern, and some things as alien; and the things that

are hindered and subject to compulsion and lost are not his own concern,

and those that are unhindered are; and the substance of Good and of

Evil, as it were worthy of Him that careth for us and doth protect us as

a father, He hath placed among our own concerns.

2.----"But I have parted from such a one, and he is grieved."

For why did he deem things alien to be his own concern? Why, when he

rejoiced to see thee, did he not reason that thou wert mortal, and apt

to travel to another land? Therefore doth he pay the penalty of his own

folly. But thou, for what cause or reason dost thou bewail thyself? Hast

thou also given no thought to these things; but like silly women

consorted with all that pleased thee as though thou shouldst consort

with them forever, places and persons and pastimes? and now thou sittest

weeping, because thou canst see the same persons and frequent the same

places no longer. This, truly, is what thou art fit for, to be more

wretched than crows and ravens that can fly whithersoever they please,

and change their nests, and pass across the seas, nor ever lament nor

yearn for what they have left.

----"Yea, but they are thus because they are creatures without reason."

To us, then, was Reason given by the Gods for our misfortune and misery?

that we should be wretched and sorrowful forever? Let all men be

immortal, forsooth, and no man migrate to another land, nor let us

ourselves ever migrate, but remain rooted to one spot like plants; and

if one of our companions go, let us sit down and weep, and if he return,

dance and clap hands like children!

3. Shall we not now at last wean ourselves, and remember what we heard

from the philosophers? if, indeed, we did not listen to them as a

wizard's incantation. For they said that the universe is one Polity, and

one is the substance out of which it is made, and there must, of

necessity, be a certain cycle, and some things must give place to

others, some dissolving away, and others coming into being, some abiding

in one place, and others being in motion. But all things are full of

love, first of the Gods, then of men, that are by nature made to have

affection towards each other; and it must needs be that some dwell with

each other, and some are separated, rejoicing in those who are with

them, and not distressed for those who go away. And man, they said, is

magnanimous by nature, and contemneth all things beyond the Will; and

hath also this quality, not to be rooted to one spot, nor grown into the

earth, but able to go from place to place, sometimes urged by divers

needs, sometimes for the sake of what he shall see.

4. And such was the case with Ulysses:--

"The cities of many peoples and minds of men he

knew."--_Od._ i. 3.

And yet earlier with Hercules, who went about the whole earth--

"All disorders of men and orderly rule to see,"

--_Od._ xvii. 487,

casting out and purging the one, and bringing in the other in its place.

And how many friends, think you, had he in Thebes? how many in Argos?

how many in Athens? and how many did he gain in his journeyings? And he

took a wife, too, when it seemed to him due time, and begat children,

and left them behind him, not with lamentations or regrets, nor leaving

them as orphans; for he knew that no man is an orphan, but that there is

an Eternal Father who careth continually for all. For not of report

alone had he heard that Zeus is the Father of men, whom also he thought

to be his own father, and called Him so, and all that he did, he did

looking unto Him. And thus it was that he was able to live happily in

every place.

5. For never can happiness and the longing for what is not exist

together. For Happiness must have all its will. It is like unto one that

hath eaten and is filled; thirst will not sort with it, nor hunger. _But

Ulysses longed for his wife, and lamented as he sat on the rock._[1] And

do you, then, follow Homer and his stories in everything? Or if he did

in truth lament, what else was he than an unfortunate man? And what good

man is unfortunate? Verily, the Whole is ill-governed if Zeus taketh no

care of his own citizens, that they like himself may be happy; but these

things it is not lawful nor pious even to think of. But Ulysses, if

indeed he lamented and complained, was not a good man. For what good man

is there that knoweth not who he is? and who knoweth this who forgets

that things which come into existence also perish, and that no two human

beings dwell together forever? To aim, then, at things which are

impossible is a contemptible and foolish thing; it is the part of a

stranger and alien in God's world who fights against God in the one way

he can--by his own opinions.

6. _But my mother laments if she sees me not._ And wherefore hath she

never learned these teachings? Yet, I say not that it is no concern of

ours to prevent her grieving; but that we should not absolutely, and

without exception, desire what is not our own. And the grief of another

is another's, and my grief is mine own. I will, therefore, absolutely

end mine own grief, for this I can; and that of another according to my

means, but this I will not attempt absolutely. For otherwise I shall be

fighting with God. I shall be opposing and resisting Him in the

government of the Whole; and of this strife against God, this obstinacy,

not only my children's children, but I myself, too, shall pay the

penalty by day and night; for I shall leap from my bed at visions of the

night, confounded, trembling at every news, having my peace at the mercy

of letters of other persons. _A messenger hath come from Rome; God grant

it be no evil_. But what evil can come upon thee there, where thou art

not? _There is a message from Greece; God grant it be no evil._ And thus

to thee every place may be a source of misfortune. Is it not enough for

thee to be unfortunate where thou art, and not also across the sea, and

by writings? Is this the security of thine affairs? _But what if my

friends which are abroad die there?_ What else than that creatures

destined to die have died? And how dost thou desire to live to old age,

and never to see the death of any whom thou lovest? Knowest thou not

that in a great length of time many and various things must chance; that

a fever shall overthrow one, and a robber another, and a tyrant another?

Such is our environment, such our companions; cold and heat, and

improper ways of living, and journeyings, and voyagings, and winds, and

various circumstances will destroy one man, and exile another, and cast

another into an embassy, and another into a campaign. Sit down, then,

terrified at all these things; grieve and fail, and be unfortunate;

depend on others, and that not on one or two, but myriads upon myriads.

7. Is this what you heard, is this what you learned from the

philosophers? Know you not that our business here is a warfare? and one

must watch, and one go out as a spy, and one must fight? All cannot be

the same thing, nor would it be better if they were. But you neglect to

do the bidding of the commander, and complain when he hath laid somewhat

rougher than common upon you; and you mark not what, so far as in you

lies, you are making the army to become, so that if all copy you, none

will dig a trench, none will cast up a rampart, none will watch, none

will run any risk, but each will appear worthless for warfare. Again, in

a ship, if you go for a sailor, take up one place, and never budge from

it; and if you are wanted to go aloft, refuse; or to run upon the prow,

refuse; and what captain will have patience with you? Will he not cast

you out like some useless thing, nothing else than a hindrance and bad

example to the other sailors?

8. And thus here also: the life of every man is a sort of warfare, and

a long one, and full of divers chances. And it behooveth a man to play a

soldier's part, and do all at the nod of his commander; yea, and if it

be possible, to divine what he intendeth. For that commander is not such

a one as this, neither in power nor in exaltation of character. You are

set in a great office, and in no mean place, but are a Senator forever.

Know you not that such a one can attend but little to his household, but

he must be oftentimes abroad, ruling or being ruled, or fulfilling some

office, or serving in the field, or judging? And will you, then, desire

to be fixed and rooted like a plant in the same place? _For it is

pleasant._ Who denies it? But so is a dainty pleasant, and a fair woman

is pleasant. How otherwise are those wont to speak who make pleasure

their end? See you not what kind of men they are whose words you utter?

They are the words of Epicureans and profligates. And doing the works of

these men, and holding their doctrines, wilt thou speak to us with the

speech of Zeno and Socrates?

9. Will you not fling away from you as far as you can these alien

sentiments wherewith you adorn yourself, which beseem you not at all?

What other desire have such men than to sleep their fill unhindered, and

when they have risen, to yawn for languor, and wash their face, and

write and read whatever pleaseth them; then have some trivial talk, and

be praised by their friends, whatever they say; then go forth to walk

about, and having done this a little, go to the baths; then eat; then

retire to rest--such a rest as is the wont of such men, and why need we

say what, for it is easily guessed? Come, tell me, then, thine own way

of life, such as thou desirest, O thou votary of the truth, and of

Socrates and Diogenes! What wilt thou do in Athens? these very things,

or others? Why, then, dost declare thyself a Stoic? Are not they sorely

punished which falsely pretend to be Roman citizens; and should those go

free who falsely pretend to so great and reverend a calling and name? or

let this indeed be impossible; but this is the law, divine and mighty,

and not to be escaped, that layeth the greatest punishments on the

greatest sinners. For what saith this law? He who pretendeth to things

that are not his own, let him be a cheat and braggart; he that is

disobedient to the divine government, let him be an abject, a slave, let

him grieve and envy and pity[2]--in a word, let him be misfortunate, and

mourn.

10.----"And now will you have me attend upon such a one, and hang about

his doors?"

If Reason demand it, for the sake of country, of kinsmen, of mankind,

wherefore shouldst thou not go? Thou art not ashamed to go to the doors

of a cobbler when thou art in want of shoes, nor to those of a gardener

for lettuces; and why to those of a rich man when thou art in need of

some like thing?

----"Yea, but I have no awe of the cobbler."

Then have none of the rich.

----"Nor will I flatter the gardener."

And do not flatter the rich.

----"How, then, shall I gain what I want?"

Did I say to thee, _Go, for the sake of gaining it_; or did I not only

say, _Go, that thou mayest do what it beseems thee to do_.

----"And why, then, should I yet go?"

That thou mayest have gone; that thou mayest have played the part of a

citizen, of a brother, of a friend. And, for the rest, remember that the

shoemaker, the vegetable-seller, to whom thou didst go, hath nothing

great or exalted to give, even though he sell it dear. Thy aim was

lettuces; they are worth an obol, they are not worth a talent. And so it

is here. Is the matter worth going to the rich man's door for? So be it;

I will go. Is it worth speaking to him about? So be it; I will speak.

But must I also kiss his hand, and fawn upon him with praise? Out upon

it! that is a talent's worth. It is no profit to me, nor to the State,

nor to my friends, that they should lose a good citizen and friend.

11.----"How, then, shall I become of an affectionate disposition?"

In having a generous and happy one. For Reason doth never decree that a

man must be abject, or lament, or depend on another, or blame God or

man. And thus be thou affectionate, as one who will keep this faith.

But if through this affection, or what happens to be so called by thee,

thou art like to prove a miserable slave, then it shall not profit thee

to be affectionate. And what hinders us to love as though we loved a

mortal, or one who may depart to other lands? Did Socrates not love his

children? Yea, but as a free man; as one who remembered that he must

first love the Gods. And, therefore, he never did transgress anything

that it becomes a good man to observe, neither in his defense, nor in

fixing his punishment, nor beforetime when he was of the Council, nor

when he was serving in the field. But we are well supplied with every

excuse for baseness; some through children, some through mothers, some

through brothers. But it behooveth no man to be unhappy through any

person, but happy through all, and most of all through God, which hath

framed us to that end.

12. And, for the rest, in all things which are delightful to thee, set

before thyself the appearances that oppose them. What harm is it, while

kissing thy child, to whisper, _To-morrow thou shalt die_; and likewise

with thy friend, _To-morrow thou shall depart, either thou or I, and we

shall see each other no more_?

----"But these are words of ill-omen."

And so are some incantations, but in that they are useful I regard not

this; only let them be of use. But dost thou call anything of ill-omen,

save only that which betokeneth some evil? Cowardice is a word of

ill-omen, and baseness and grief and mourning and shamelessness, these

words are of ill-omen. And not even them must we dread to speak, if so

we may defend ourselves against the things. But wilt thou say that any

word is of ill-omen that betokeneth some natural thing? Say that it is

of ill-omen to speak of the reaping of ears of corn, for it betokeneth

the destruction of the ears--but not of the universe. Say that the

falling of the leaves is of ill-omen, and the dried fig coming in the

place of the green, and raisins in the place of grapes. For all these

things are changes from the former estate to another; no destruction,

but a certain appointed order and disposition. Here is parting for

foreign lands, and a little change. Here is death--a greater change, not

from that which now is to that which is not, but to that which is not

now.

CHAPTER IX.

ON SOLITUDE.

1. Solitude is the state of one who is helpless. For he who is alone is

not therefore solitary; even as he who is in a great company is not

therefore not solitary. When, therefore, we have lost a brother or a son

or a friend on whom we were wont to rest, we say that we are left

solitary, and oftentimes we say it in Rome, with such a crowd meeting us

and so many dwelling about us, and, it may be, having a multitude of

slaves. For the solitary man, in his conception, meaneth to be thought

helpless, and laid open to those who wish him harm. Therefore when we

are on a journey we then, above all, say that we are solitary when we

are fallen among thieves; for that which taketh away solitude is not the

sight of a man, but of a faithful and pious and serviceable man. For if

to be solitary it sufficeth to be alone, then say that Zeus is solitary

in the conflagration,[1] and bewails himself. _Woe is me! I have neither

Hera nor Athene nor Apollo_, nor, in short, either brother or son or

descendant or kinsman. And so some say he doth when alone in the

conflagration. For they comprehend not the life of a man who is alone,

setting out from a certain natural principle, that we are by nature

social, and inclined to love each other, and pleased to be in the

company of other men. But none the less is it needful that one find the

means to this also, to be able to suffice to himself, and to be his own

companion. For as Zeus is his own companion, and is content with

himself, and considereth his own government, what it is, and is occupied

in designs worthy of himself; thus should we be able to converse with

ourselves, and feel no need of others, nor want means to pass the time;

but to observe the divine government, and the relation of ourselves with

other things; to consider how we stood formerly towards the events that

befall us, and how we stand now; what things they are that still afflict

us; how these, too, may be healed, how removed; and if aught should need

perfecting, to perfect it according to the reason of the case.

2. Ye see now how that Cæsar seemeth to have given us a great peace;

how there are no longer wars nor battles nor bands of robbers nor of

pirates, but a man may travel at every season, and sail from east to

west. But can he give us peace from fever? or from shipwreck? or from

fire? or earthquake? or lightning? ay, or from love? _He cannot._ Or

from grief? _He cannot._ Or from envy? _He cannot._ Briefly, then, he

cannot secure us from any of such things. But the word of the

philosophers doth promise us peace even from these things. And what

saith it? _If ye will hearken unto me, O men, wheresoever ye be,

whatsoever ye do, ye shall not grieve, ye shall not be wroth, ye shall

not be compelled or hindered, but ye shall live untroubled and free from

every ill._ Whosoever hath this peace, which Cæsar never proclaimed (for

how could he proclaim it?), but which God proclaimed through His word,

shall he not suffice to himself when he may be alone? for he beholdeth

and considereth, _Now can no evil happen to me; for me there is no

robber, no earthquake; all things are full of peace, full of calm; for

me no way, no city, no assembly, no neighbor, no associate hath any

hurt_. He is supplied by one, whose part that is, with food, by another

with raiment, by another with senses, by another with natural

conceptions. And when it may be that the necessary things are no longer

supplied, that is the signal for retreat: the door is opened, and God

saith to thee, _Depart_.

----"Whither?"

To nothing dreadful, but to the place from whence thou camest--to things

friendly and akin to thee, to the elements of Being. Whatever in thee

was fire shall go to fire; of earth, to earth; of air, to air; of water,

to water;[2] no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Coeytus, nor Phlegethon, but all

things are full of Gods and Powers.[3] Whoso hath these things to think

on, and seeth the sun and the moon and the stars, and rejoiceth in the

earth and the sea, he is no more solitary than he is helpless.

----"What, then, if one come and find me alone and slay me?"

Fool! not thee, but thy wretched body.

3. Thou art a little soul bearing up a corpse.

4. What solitude, then, is there any longer, what lack? Why do we make

ourselves worse than children, which, when they are left alone, what do

they?--they take shells and sand and build up somewhat, and then throw

it down, and again build up something else, and so they never lack

pastime. And shall I, if ye sail away from me, sit down and weep for

that I am left alone and solitary? Shall I have no shells nor sand? But

children do these things through their folly, and we through our wisdom

are made unhappy.

CHAPTER X.

AGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS AND REVENGEFUL.

1. To suppose that we shall become contemptible in the eyes of others,

unless in some way we inflict an injury on those who first showed

hostility to us, is the character of most ignoble and thoughtless men.

For thus we say, that a man is to be despised according to his inability

to do hurt; but much rather is he to be despised according to his

inability to do good.

2. The wise and good man neither strives with any himself, nor in the

measure of his power will he allow another to strive. And in this, as in

all other things, the life of Socrates is set before us as an example;

who did not only himself fly all contention, but also forbade it to

others. See in Xenophon's _Symposium_ how many quarrels he ended; and,

again, how he bore with Thrasymachus, and how with Polus and with

Callicles; and how he endured his wife, and how his son, which opposed

him with sophistical arguments. For he remembered very well that no man

can command the ruling faculty of another.

3. How, then, is there yet any place for contention in one so minded?

For what event can amaze him? what appear strange to him? Doth he not

look for even worse and more grievous things at the hands of evil men

than do befall him? Doth he not count everything for gain which is short

of the extreme of injury? Hath such a one reviled thee? Much thanks to

him that he did not strike thee. _But he did also strike me._ Much

thanks that he did not wound thee. _But he did also wound me._ Much

thanks that he did not slay thee. For when did he learn, or from whom,

that he was a tame animal, and affectionate to others, and that to the

wrongdoer the wrong-doing itself is a heavy injury? For since he hath not

learned these things, nor believes them, wherefore should he not follow

that which appears to be his advantage? Thy neighbor hath flung stones!

Hast thou, then, sinned in aught? But he has broken things in the house?

And art thou a household vessel? Nay--but a Will.

4. What, then, hath been given thee for this occasion? To a wolf it were

given to bite--to fling more stones. But if thou seek what is becoming

for a man, look into thy stores, see what faculties thou hast come here

furnished withal. Hast thou the nature of a wild beast? the temper of

revenge?

5. When is a horse in wretched case? When he is bereaved of his natural

faculties; not when he cannot crow, but when he cannot run. When is a

dog? Not when he cannot fly, but when he cannot track. Is not a man,

then, also thus wretched, not when he cannot strangle lions or embrace

statues[1]--for to this he came endowed with no faculties by Nature--but

when he hath lost his honesty, his faithfulness? Surely we should meet

together and lament over such a man; so great are the evils into which

he hath fallen. Not, indeed, that we should lament for his birth, or for

his death, but in that while yet living he hath suffered the loss of his

own true possessions. I speak not of his paternal inheritance, not of

his land, or his house, or his inn, or his slaves (for not one of these

things is the true possession of a man, but all are alien, servile,

subject, given now to some, now to others, by those that can command

them); but of his human qualities, the stamps of his spirit wherewith he

came into the world. Even such we seek for also on coins, and if we find

them we approve the coins, and if not, we cast them away. What is the

stamp of this sestertius? _The stamp of Trajan._ Then give it me. _The

stamp of Nero._[2] Fling it away--it will not pass, it is bad. And so

here too. What is the stamp of his mind? He is gentle, social,

forbearing, affectionate. Come, then, I receive him, I admit him to

citizenship, I receive him as a neighbor, a fellow-traveler. See to it

only that he have not Nero's stamp. Is he wrathful, revengeful,

complaining? Doth he, when it may seem good to him, break the heads of

all who stand in his way? Why, then, didst thou say he was a man? Shall

everything be judged by the bare form? If so, then say that a wax apple

is a real apple, and that it has the smell and taste of an apple. But

the outward shape doth not suffice, nor are eyes and nose enough to make

a man, but he is a man only if he have a man's mind. Here is one that

will not hear reason, that will not submit when he is confuted--he is an

ass. In another, reverence hath died--he is worthless, anything rather

than a man. This one seeketh whom he may meet and kick or bite--so that

he is not even a sheep or an ass, but some kind of savage beast.

6. But this is the nature of every creature, to pursue the Good and fly

the Evil; and to hold every man an enemy and a plotter for our woe, were

it even a brother, or son, or father, who takes away from us the one, or

brings us into the other. For nothing is nearer or dearer to us than the

Good. It remains, therefore, if outward things be good and evil, that a

father is no longer the friend of his sons, nor the brother of his

brother, but every place is full of enemies and plotters and slanderers.

But if the only Good is that the Will should be as it ought to be, and

the only Evil as it ought not, where is there then any place for strife,

for reviling? For about what things shall we strive? about those that

are nothing to us? and with whom? with the ignorant, the unhappy, with

men who are deceived concerning the greatest things?

7. Remembering these things, Socrates managed his own household,

enduring a most shrewish wife and an undutiful son. For these doctrines

make love in a household, and concord in a State, peace among nations,

and gratitude towards God, with boldness in every place, as of one who

hath to do with things alien to him, and of no estimation. And we are

the men to write and read these things, and to applaud them when they

are delivered to us, but to the belief of them we have not even come

near. And therefore that saying concerning the Lacedæmonians,

"Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes,"[3]

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

END OF BOOK III.

_BOOK IV._

CHAPTER I.

OF RELIGION.

1. Of religion towards the Gods, know that the chief element is to have

right opinions concerning them, as existing and governing the whole in

fair order and justice; and then to set thyself to obey them, and to

yield to them in each event, and submit to it willingly, as accomplished

under the highest counsels. For so shalt thou never blame the Gods, nor

accuse them, as being neglectful of thee.

2. But this may come to pass in no other way than by placing Good and

Evil in the things that are in our own power, and withdrawing them from

those that are not; for if thou take any of these things to be good or

evil, then when thou shalt miss thy desire, or fall into what thou

desirest not, it is altogether necessary that thou blame and hate those

who caused thee to do so.

3. For every living thing was so framed by Nature as to flee and turn

from things, and the causes of things, that appear hurtful, and to

follow and admire things, and the causes of things, that appear

serviceable. For it is impossible that one who thinketh himself harmed

should delight in that seemeth to harm him, even as he cannot delight in

the very harm itself.

4. And thus it comes that a father is reviled by his son when he will

not give him of the things that appear to be good. And this it was that

set Polyneices and Eteocles at war with each other--the opinion, namely,

that royalty is a good. And through this the Gods are railed on by the

husbandman and the sailor, by the merchant, and men who lose their wives

or children. For where advantage is, there also is religion. Thus he who

is careful to pursue and avoid as he ought, is careful, at the same

time, of religion.

5. But it is fitting also that every man should pour libations and offer

sacrifices and first-fruits after the customs of his fathers, purely,

and not languidly nor negligently, nor, indeed, scantily, nor yet beyond

his means.

CHAPTER II.

OF PROVIDENCE.

1. Concerning the Gods, there are some who say that a Divine Being does

not exist; and others, that it exists indeed, but is idle and uncaring,

and hath no forethought for anything; and a third class say that there

is such a Being, and he taketh forethought also, but only in respect of

great and heavenly things, but of nothing that is on the earth; and a

fourth class, that he taketh thought of things both in heaven and earth,

but only in general, and not of each thing severally. And there is a

fifth class, whereof are Odysseus and Socrates, who say, _Nor can I move

without thy knowledge_.[1]

2. Before all things, then, it is necessary to investigate each of these

opinions, whether it be justly affirmed or no. For if there be no Gods,

how can the following of the Gods be an end? And if there are Gods, but

such as take no care for anything, then also how can the following of

them be truly an end? And how, again, if the Gods both exist and take

care for things, yet if there be no communication from them to men, yea,

by Zeus, and even to mine own self? The wise and good man, having

investigated all these things, will submit his own mind to Him that

governeth the Whole, even as good citizens to the laws of their State.

3. But a certain man having inquired how one could be persuaded that

every one of his actions is observed by God, Doth it not appear to you,

said Epictetus, that all things are united in One?

----"It doth so appear."

What then? Think you not that a sympathy exists between heavenly and

earthly things?

----"I do think it."

For how else do plants, as if at the command of God, when He bids them,

flower in due season? and shoot forth when He bids them shoot, and bear

fruit when He bids them bear? and ripen when He bids them ripen? and

again they drop their fruit when He bids them drop it, and shed their

leaves when He bids them shed them? and how else at His bidding do they

fold themselves together, and remain motionless and at rest? And how

else at the waxing and waning of the moon, and the approach and

withdrawal of the sun, do we behold such a change and reversal in

earthly things? But are the plants and our bodies so bound up in the

whole, and have sympathy with it, and are our spirits not much more so?

And our souls being thus bound up and in touch with God, seeing, indeed,

that they are portions and fragments of Him, shall not every movement of

them, inasmuch as it is something inward and akin to God, be perceived

by Him? But you are able to meditate upon the divine government, and

upon all divine and all human affairs, and to be affected at the same

time in the senses and in the intellect by ten thousand things, and at

the same time to assent to some and dissent to others, or suspend your

judgment; and you preserve in your mind so many impressions of so many

and various things, and being affected by them, you strike upon ideas

similar to earlier impressions, and you retain many different arts, and

memories of ten thousand things; and shall not God have the power to

overlook all things, and be present with all, and have a certain

communication with all? But is the sun able to illuminate so great a

part of the All, and to leave so little without light,--that part,

namely, which is filled with the shadow of the earth--and shall He who

made the sun, and guideth it in its sphere--a small part of Him beside

the Whole--shall He not be capable of perceiving all things?

4. _But I_, saith the man, _cannot take heed of all these things at

once_. And who said you could do this? that you had equal powers with

God? But, nevertheless, He hath placed at every man's side a Guardian,

the Genius of each man,[2] who is charged to watch over him, a Genius

that cannot sleep, nor be deceived. To what greater and more watchful

guardian could He have committed us? So, when ye have shut the doors,

and made darkness in the house, remember never to say that ye are alone;

for ye are not alone, but God is there, and your Genius is there; and

what need have these of light to mark what ye are doing? To this God it

were fitting also that ye should swear an oath, as soldiers do to Cæsar.

But those indeed who receive pay swear to prefer the safety of Cæsar

before all things; but ye, receiving so many and great things, will ye

not swear? or swearing, will ye not abide by it? And what shall ye

swear? Never to disobey, never to accuse, never to blame aught that He

hath given, never unwillingly to do or suffer any necessary thing. Is

this oath like unto that other? The soldiers swear to esteem no other

man before Cæsar; ye to esteem yourselves above all.

CHAPTER III.

OF PROVIDENCE.

1. Marvel not if the other animals have all things that are needful for

the body without preparation, not alone food and drink, but sleeping

places also, and they have no need of shoes, nor bedding, nor raiment,

while all these things must needs be added to us. For these creatures

exist not for themselves, but for service; it were not expedient that

they had been made with need of such additions. For, look you, what a

task it were for us to take thought, not for ourselves alone, but also

for the sheep and the asses, how they should be clad, how shod, how they

should eat, how they should drink! But as soldiers are ready for their

commands, shod, and clothed, and accoutred, and it would be a grievous

thing if each captain of a thousand must go round and shoe or clothe

his thousand; so also hath Nature formed the animals that are made for

service, ready equipped, and needing no further care. And thus one

little child with a rod will drive the sheep.

2. But now we, neglecting to be grateful, for that we need not attend to

the animals equally with ourselves, do accuse God for our own lack. And

yet, by Zeus and all the Gods, there is no one thing in the frame of

Nature but would give, at least to a reverent and grateful spirit,

enough for the perceiving of the Providence of God. And to speak of no

great things now, consider this alone, how milk is produced from grass,

and cheese from milk, and wool from skins. Who is he that hath made

these things or planned them? _No one_, sayest thou? O monstrous

impudence and dullness!

3. Well, then, let the large works of Nature pass, and let us look only

at her by-works. Is there aught more useless than the hairs on the chin?

What then? hath she not made such use even of these, that nothing could

be comelier? hath she not by them distinguished male from female? Doth

not the nature of every man cry aloud even at a distance, _I am a man,

thus shalt thou approach me, thus speak to me, look for nothing else;

behold the tokens!_ And again in women, as Nature hath mingled something

of softness in the voice, so she hath taken away the hairs. _Nay_, will

you say? _but every creature should have been left undistinguished, and

each of us should proclaim_, "_I am a man_?" But how beautiful is not

the token, and becoming, and reverend? how much more beautiful than the

cock's comb? how much more becoming than the lion's mane? Wherefore it

behooveth us to preserve God's tokens, nor to fling them away, nor to

confound, as far as in us lies, the things that distinguish the sexes.

4. Are these the only works of Providence in us?--but what may suffice

to rightly praise and tell them? For had we understanding thereof, would

any other thing better beseem us, either in company or alone, than to

hymn the Divine Being, and laud Him and rehearse His gracious deeds?

Should we not, as we dig or plow or eat, sing this hymn to God, _Great

is God, who hath given us such instruments whereby we shall till the

earth; great is God, who hath given us hands, and swallowing, and the

belly; who maketh us to grow without our knowledge, and to breathe while

we sleep_. These things it were fitting that every man should sing, and

to chant the greatest and divinest hymns for this, that He hath given us

the power to observe and consider His works and a Way wherein to

walk.[1] What then? since the most of you have become blind, should

there not be one to fill this place, and in the name of all to sing this

hymn to God? For what else can I do, an old man and lame, than sing

hymns to God? If I were a nightingale I would do after the nature of a

nightingale; if a swan, after that of a swan. But now I am a reasoning

creature, and it behooves me to sing the praise of God: this is my task,

and this I do, nor, as long as it is granted me, will I ever abandon

this post. And you, too, I summon to join me in the same song.

CHAPTER IV.

GOD IN MAN.

1. God is beneficial. But the Good is also beneficial. It is likely,

then, that where the essence of God is, there also should be the essence

of the Good. And what is the essence of God? Flesh? God forbid. A

property in land? God forbid. Fame? God forbid. Mind, Intelligence,

Right Reason? Even so. Here, then, once for all, seek the essence of the

Good. For surely you will in no wise seek it in a plant? _Nay._ Or in

any unreasoning creature? _Nay._ If, then, it is sought in a reasoning

creature, wherefore continue to seek it anywhere else than in the

difference between reasoning and unreasoning creatures?

2. The plants have not so much as the use of appearances, therefore we

speak not of the Good in their regard. The Good, then, needs the power

of using appearances. And this alone? Nay; for if so, say then that Good

and Happiness and Unhappiness are with the lower animals too. But this

you will not say, and you are right; for though they possessed the use

of appearances in the highest degree, yet the observing and considering

of this use they do not possess, and naturally so, for they exist to

serve others, nor have any supreme object in themselves.[1] For the ass

was not made for any supreme object in himself? Nay, but he was made

able to bear, because we had need of a back; and, by Zeus, we had need

moreover that he should walk; wherefore he received also the power to

use appearances, else had he not been able to walk. And thereupon the

matter stopped. For had he also received the observing and considering

of the use of appearances, it is clear that in reason he could no longer

have been subject to us, nor have served those needs of ours, but he had

been our equal and our like.

3. For use is one thing, and observation and study is another. God had

need of the other animals to use appearances, but of us to observe and

study appearances. Wherefore it is enough for them to eat and drink, and

rest and breed, and do whatever else each of them performs, but to us,

to whom the faculty of observing and studying hath also been given,

these things are not enough; but unless we act after a certain manner

and ordinance, and conformably to the nature and constitution of man, we

shall never attain the end of our being. For where the constitution is

different, different there also is the task and the end. When,

therefore, the constitution is one for use alone, then the use, of

whatever kind it be, is enough; but where there is also observing and

studying of the use, then, unless the due employment of this faculty be

added, the end shall never be gained. What then? God hath constituted

every other animal, one to be eaten, another to serve for tilling the

land, another to yield cheese, another to some kindred use; for which

things what need is there of the observing and studying of appearances,

and the ability to make distinctions in them? But man he hath brought in

to be a spectator of God and of His works, and not a spectator alone,

but an interpreter of them. Wherefore it is shameful for a man to begin

and to end where creatures do that are without Reason; but rather should

he begin when they begin, and end where Nature ends in ourselves. But

she ends in contemplation, in observing and studying, in a manner of

life that is in harmony with Nature. See to it, then, that ye die not

without having been spectators of these things.

4. Seek, then, the essence of the Good there, where if it be not, thou

wilt not say that the Good is in any other thing.

5. But what? are not those creatures also works of God? Surely; yet not

supreme objects, yet not parts of the Gods. But thou art a supreme

object, thou art a piece of God, thou hast in thee something that is a

portion of Him. Why, then, art thou ignorant of thy high ancestry? Why

knowest thou not whence thou camest? Wilt thou not remember, in thine

eating, who it is that eats, and whom thou dost nourish? in cohabiting,

who it is that cohabits? in converse, in exercise, in argument, knowest

thou not that thou art nourishing a God, exercising a God? Unhappy man!

thou bearest about with thee a God, and knowest it not! Thinkest thou I

speak of some God of gold and silver, and external to thee? Nay, but in

thyself thou dost bear Him, and seest not that thou defilest Him with

thine impure thoughts and filthy deeds. In the presence even of an image

of God thou hadst not dared to do one of those things which thou dost.

But in the presence of God Himself within thee, who seeth and heareth

all things, thou art not ashamed of the things thou dost both desire and

do, O thou unwitting of thine own nature, and subject to the wrath of

God?

6. Why, then, do we fear in sending forth a young man from the school

into some of the business of life, lest he should do wrong in anything,

and be luxurious or profligate, and lest a wrapping of rags degrade him,

or fine raiment uplift him? Such a one knoweth not his own God, nor with

whom he is setting out. But can we have patience with him, saying,

_Would that I had you with me!_[2] And hast thou not God with thee

there? or having Him, dost thou seek for any other? or will He speak

other things to thee than even these?

7. But wert thou a statue of Pheidias, an Athena or Zeus, then wert

thou mindful both of thyself and of the artist; and if thou hadst any

consciousness, thou wouldst strive to do nothing unworthy of thy maker

nor of thyself, nor ever to appear in any unseemly guise. But now that

Zeus hath made thee, thou carest therefore nothing what kind of creature

thou showest thyself for? And yet, is the one Artist like the other

artist, or the one work like the other work? And what kind of work is

that which hath in itself the faculties that were manifest in the making

of it? Do not artists work in stone or brass or gold or ivory? and the

Athena of Pheidias, when she hath once stretched out her hand and

received upon it the figure of Victory, standeth thus for all time? But

the works of God have motion and breathing, and the use of appearances

and the judgment of them. Wilt thou dishonor such a Maker, whose work

thou art? Nay, for not only did He make thee, but to thee alone did He

trust and commit thyself. Wilt thou not remember this too, or wilt thou

dishonor thy charge? But if God had committed some orphan child to thee,

wouldst thou have neglected it? Now He hath given thee to thyself, and

saith, _I had none more worthy of trust than thee; keep this man such as

he was made by nature--reverent, faithful, high, unterrified, unshaken

of passions, untroubled_. And thou wilt not.

8. But they may say: _Whence doth this fellow bring us that eye of scorn

and solemn looks?_ I have it not yet as I should, For I am yet unbold in

those things which I have learned and assented to; I yet fear my

weakness. But let me be bold in them, and then ye shall see such a look,

such a guise, as behooveth me to wear. Then shall I show you the statue

when it is perfected and polished. What look ye for?--an eye of scorn?

God forbid! For doth the Zeus in Olympia look scornfully?--nay, but his

glance is steadfast, as becometh him who will say,

"None trusts in vain my irrevocable word."--_Il._ i. 526.

Such will I show myself to you--faithful, reverent, generous,

untroubled. _Not also, then, deathless, ageless, deceaseless?_ Nay, but

dying as God, sickening as a God. These I have, these I can; but other

things I neither have nor can. I will show you the thews of a

philosopher. And what are these? A pursuit that never fails, an

avoidance that never miscarries, seemly desire, studious resolve,

cautious assent.[3] These shall ye see.

CHAPTER V.

OF DIVINATION.

1. When thou goest to inquire of an oracle, remember that what the event

will be thou knowest not, for this is the thing thou art come to learn

from the seer; but of what nature it is (if haply thou art a

philosopher), thou knewest already in coming. For if it be any of those

things that are not in our own power, it follows of necessity that it

can be neither good nor evil.

2. Bring, therefore, to the seer neither pursuit nor avoidance, nor go

before him with trembling, but well knowing that all events are

indifferent and nothing to thee. For whatever it may be, it shall lie

with thee to use it nobly; and this no man can prevent. Go, then, with a

good courage to the Gods as to counselors; and for the rest, when

anything hath been counseled thee, remember of whom thou hast taken

counsel, and whom thou wilt be slighting if thou art not obedient.

3. Therefore, as Socrates would have it, go to the oracle for those

matters only where thy whole inquiry bendeth solely towards the event,

and where there are no means either from reason or any other art for

knowing beforehand what is to happen. Thus, when it may be needful to

share some peril with thy friend or thy country, inquire of no oracle

whether thou shouldst do the thing. For if the seer should declare that

the sacrifices are inauspicious, this signifies clearly either death, or

the loss of some limb, or banishment; yet doth Reason decree that even

so thou must stand by thy friend, and share thy country's danger.

4. Mark, therefore, that greater seer, the Pythian, who cast out of his

temple one that, when his friend was being murdered, did not help

him.[2]

END OF BOOK IV

_BOOK V._

CHAPTER I.

THE BEHAVIOUR OF A PHILOSOPHER.

1. Ordain for thyself forthwith a certain form and type of conduct,

which thou shalt maintain both alone and, when it may chance, among men.

2. And for the most part keep silence, or speak only what is necessary,

and in few words. But when occasion may call thee to speak, then speak,

but sparingly, and not about any subject at hap-hazard, nor about

gladiators, nor horse races, nor athletes, nor things to eat and drink,

which are talked of everywhere; but, above all, not about men, as

blaming or praising or comparing them.

If, then, thou art able, let thy discourse draw that of the company

towards what is seemly and good. But if thou find thyself apart among

men of another sort, keep silence.

3. Laugh not much, nor at many things, nor unrestrainedly.

4. Refuse altogether, if thou canst, to take an oath; if thou canst not,

then as the circumstances allow.[1]

5. Shun banquets given by strangers and by the vulgar. But if any

occasion bring thee to them, give strictest heed, lest thou fall

unawares into the ways of the vulgar. For know that if thy companion be

corrupt, he who hath conversation with him must needs be corrupted also,

even if himself should chance to be pure.

6. Hath any of you the art of a lute-player when he takes the lute in

his hand, so as at once when he hath touched the strings to know which

are out of tune, and then to tune the instrument?--such a gift as

Socrates had, who in every company could lead those that were with him

to his own topic? Whence should you have it? but ye must needs be

carried about hither and thither by the vulgar. And wherefore, then, are

they stronger than ye? For that they speak their sorry stuff from

belief; but ye, your fine talk from the lips out. Wherefore it is flat

and dead; and sickening it is to hear your exhortations and this

wretched virtue of yours, which is prated of in every quarter. And thus

the vulgar conquer you. For everywhere belief is mighty, belief is

invincible. Until then the right opinions are hardened in you; and until

ye shall have gained a certain strength for your safety, I counsel you

to mingle cautiously with the vulgar, else every day, like wax in the

sun, shall whatever hath been written in you in the school be melted

away.

7. In things that concern the body accept only so far as the bare

need--as in food, drink, clothing, habitation, servants. But all that

makes for glory or luxury thou must utterly proscribe.

8. Concerning intercourse of the sexes, it is right to be pure before

marriage, to the best of thy power. But, using it, let a man have to do

only with what is lawful. Yet be not grievous to those who use such

pleasures, nor censorious; nor be often putting thyself forward as not

using them.

9. If one shall bear thee word that such a one hath spoken evil of thee,

then do not defend thyself against his accusations, but make answer: _He

little knew my other vices, or he had not mentioned only these_.

10. There is no necessity to go often to the arena, but if occasion

should take thee there, do not appear ardent on any man's side but thine

own; that is to say, choose that only to happen which does happen, and

that the conqueror may be simply he who wins; for so shalt thou not be

thwarted. But from shouting and laughing at this or that, or violent

gesticulation, thou must utterly abstain. And when thou art gone away,

converse little on the things that have passed, so far as they make not

for thine own correction. For from that it would appear that admiration

of the spectacle had overcome thee.

11. Go not freely nor indiscriminately to recitations.[2] But if thou

go, then preserve (yet without being grievous to others) thy gravity and

calmness.

12. When thou art about to meet any one, especially one of those that

are thought high in rank, set before thy mind what Socrates or Zeno had

done in such a case. And so thou wilt not fail to deal as it behooves

thee with the occasion.

13. When thou goest to any of those that are great in power, set before

thy mind the case that thou wilt not find him at home, that thou wilt be

shut out, that the doors may be slammed in thy face, that he will take

no notice of thee. And if even with these things it behooves thee to go,

then go, and bear all that happens; and never say to thyself--_It was

not worth this_. For that is the part of the foolish, and of those that

are offended at outward things.

14. In company, be it far from thee to dwell much and over-measure on

thine own deeds and dangers. For to dwell on thine own dangers is

pleasant indeed to thee, but not equally pleasant for others is it to

hear of the things that have chanced to thee.

15. Be it far from thee to move laughter. For that habit is a slippery

descent into vulgarity;[3] and it is always enough to relax thy

neighbors' respect for thee.

16. And it is dangerous to approach to vicious conversation. Therefore,

when anything of the kind may arise, rebuke, if there is opportunity,

him who approaches thereto. But if not, then at least by silence and

blushing and grave looks, let it be plain that his talk is disagreeable

to thee.

CHAPTER II

ON HABIT.

1. Every skill and faculty is maintained and increased by the

corresponding acts; as, the faculty of walking by walking, of running by

running. If you will read aloud well, then do it constantly; if you will

write, then write. But when you have not read aloud for thirty days

together, but done something else, you shall see the result. Thus, if

you have lain down for ten days, then rise up and endeavor to walk a

good distance, and you shall see how your legs are enfeebled. In

general, then, if you would make yourself skilled in anything, then do

it; and if you would refrain from anything, then do it not, but use

yourself to do rather some other thing instead of it.

2. And thus it is in spiritual things also. When thou art wrathful, know

that not this single evil hath happened to thee, but that thou hast

increased the aptness to it, and, as it were, poured oil upon the fire.

When thou art overcome in passion, think not that this defeat is all;

but thou hast nourished thine incontinence, and increased it. For it is

impossible but that aptitudes and faculties should spring up where they

were not before, or spread and grow mightier, by the corresponding acts.

And thus, surely, do also, as the philosopher says, the infirmities of

the soul grow up. For when thou hast once been covetous of money, if

Reason, which leadeth to a sense of the vice, be called to aid, then

both the desire is set at rest, and our ruling faculty is

re-established, as it was in the beginning. But if thou bring no remedy

to aid, then shall the soul return no more to the first estate; but when

next excited by the corresponding appearance, shall be kindled to desire

even more quickly than before. And when this is continually happening,

the soul becomes callous in the end, and through its infirmity the love

of money is strengthened. For he that hath had a fever, when the illness

hath left him, is not what he was before his fever, unless he have been

entirely healed. And somewhat on this wise also it happens in the

affection of the soul: certain traces and scars are left in it, the

which if a man do not wholly eradicate, when he hath been again scoured

on the same place, it shall make no longer scars, but sores.

3. Wouldst thou, then, be no longer of a wrathful temper? Then do not

nourish the aptness to it, give it nothing that will increase it, be

tranquil from the outset, and number the days when thou hast not been

wrathful. _I have not been wrathful now for one, nor for two, nor for

three days_; but if thou have saved thirty days, then sacrifice to God.

For the aptness is at first enfeebled, and then destroyed. _To-day I was

not vexed, nor to-morrow, nor for two or three months together; but I

was heedful when anything happened to move me thus._ Know that thou art

in good case. To-day, when I saw a fair woman, I did not say to myself,

_Would that one could possess her_; nor, _Happy is her husband_, for he

who saith this saith also, _Happy is her paramour_; nor do I picture to

my mind what should follow. But I stroke my head, and say, _Well done,

Epictetus! you have solved a fine sophism, finer by far than the master

sophism_. But if she were also willing and consenting, and sent to me,

and if she also laid hold of me, and drew near to me, and I should yet

restrain myself and conquer, this were indeed then a sophism above the

Liar, above the Quiescent. Verily, for this a man's spirit may rightly

swell, and not for propounding the master sophism.[1]

4. How, then, may this come to pass? Resolve at last to seek thine own

commendation, to appear fair in the eyes of God; desire to become pure

with thine own pure self, and with God. Then when thou shalt fall in

with any appearance such as we have spoken of, what saith Plato? Go to

the _purifying sacrifices, go and pray in the temples of the

protecting Gods_.[2] It shall even suffice if thou seek the company of

good and wise men, and try thyself by one of them, whether he be one of

the living or of the dead.

5. By opposing these remedies thou shalt conquer the appearance, nor be

led captive by it. But at the outset, be not swept away by the vehemence

of it; but say, _Await me a little, thou appearance; let me see what

thou art, and with what thou hast to do; let me approve thee_. And then

permit it not to lead thee forward, and to picture to thee what should

follow, else it shall take possession of thee, and carry thee

whithersoever it will. But rather bring in against it some other fair

and noble appearance, and therewithal cast out this vile one. And if

thou use to exercise thyself in this way, thou shalt see what shoulders

and nerves and sinews thou wilt have! But now we have only wordiness,

and nothing more.

6. This is the true athlete,[3] he who exerciseth himself against such

appearances. Hold, unhappy man! be not swept away. Great is the contest,

divine the task, for kingship, for freedom, for prosperity, for

tranquillity. Be mindful of God, call Him to be thy helper and defender,

as men at sea call upon the Dioscuri in a storm.[4] For what greater

tempest is there than that which proceedeth from appearances, that

mightily overcome and expel the Reason? Yea, a storm itself, what is it

but an appearance? For, take away only the dread of death, and bring as

many thunderings and lightnings as thou wilt, and thou shalt see what

fair weather and calm there will be in the ruling faculty. But if having

been once defeated, thou shalt say, _The next time I will conquer_; and

then the same thing over again, be sure that in the end thou wilt be

brought to such a sorry and feeble state that henceforth thou wilt not

so much as know that thou art sinning; but thou wilt begin to make

excuses for the thing, and then confirm that saying of Hesiod to be

true:--

"With ills unending strives the putter off."

--_Works and Days_, 411.

7. What then? can a man make this resolve, and so stand up faultless? He

cannot; but this much he can--to be ever straining towards

faultlessness. For happy it were if, by never relaxing this industrious

heed, we shall rid ourselves of at least a few of our faults. But now,

when thou sayest, _From to-morrow I shall be heedful_, know that this is

what thou art saying:--_To-day I shall be shameless, importunate,

abject; it shall be in others' power to afflict me; to-day I shall be

wrathful, envious_. Lo, to how many vices dost thou give place! But if

aught be well to-morrow, how much better to-day? if to-morrow suit, how

much better to-day? Yea, and for this, too, that thou mayest have the

power to-morrow, and not again put it off till the third day.

CHAPTER III.

ON DISPUTATION.

1. What things a man must have learned in order to be able to reason

well have been accurately defined by our philosophers; but in the

fitting use of them we are wholly unexercised. Give any one of us whom

ye please some ignorant man for a disputant, and he shall find no way to

deal with him; but if, when he hath moved him a little, the man answer

beside the purpose, he is no longer able to manage him, but either he

will revile him, or mock him, and say, _He is an ignorant fellow;

nothing can be done with him_.

2. But a guide, when he hath found one straying from the way, leads him

into the proper road, and does not mock him or revile him, and then go

away. And do thou show such a man the truth, and thou shalt see that he

will follow it. But so long as thou dost not show it, mock him not, but

be sensible rather of thine own incapacity.

3. But what? this business of instruction is not very safe at present,

and least of all in Rome; for he who pursues it will of course feel

constrained not to do it in a corner, but he must go to some man of

consular rank, it may be, or some rich man, and inquire of him: Sir, can

you tell me to whom you have committed the care of your horses?

_Surely._ Was it, then, to any chance-comer and one inexperienced about

horses? _By no means._ Well, then, to whom are your gold and silver

vessels and raiment entrusted? _Neither are these committed to any

chance person._ And your body, have you already sought out one to whom

to commit the care of it? _How not?_ And that also one who is

experienced in training and medicine? _Assuredly._ Whether, now, are

these the best things you have, or do you possess aught that is better

than all of them? _What thing do you mean?_ That, by Zeus, which useth

all these, and approveth each of them and taketh counsel? _Is it the

soul, then, that you mean?_ You have conceived me rightly; it is even

this. _Truly I hold that I possess in this something much better than

everything else._ Can you then declare to us in what manner you have

taken thought for your soul? for it is not likely that a wise man like

yourself, and one of repute in the State, would overlook the best think

you possess, and use no diligence or design about it, but leave it

neglected and perishing? _Surely not._ But do you provide for it

yourself? and have you learned the way from another, or discovered it

yourself?

4. And then at last there is danger lest he say first, _Good sir, what

is this to you? who are you?_ and then, if you persist in troubling him,

that he may lift up his hands and smite you. Once I too was an admirer

of this method until I fell into these difficulties.

CHAPTER IV.

THAT WE SHOULD BE SLOW IN ACCEPTING PLEASURE.

1. When thou hast received the appearance of some pleasure, then, as in

other things, guard thyself lest thou be carried away by it, but delay

with thyself a little, and let the thing await thee for a while. Then

bethink thyself of the two periods of time, one when thou shalt be

enjoying the pleasure, the other, when, having enjoyed it, thou shalt

afterwards repent of it and reproach thyself. And set on the other side

how thou shalt rejoice and commend thyself if thou abstain.

2. But if it seem reasonable to thee to do the thing, beware lest thou

have been conquered by the flattery and the sweetness and the allurement

of it. But set on the other side how much better were the consciousness

of having won that victory.

CHAPTER V.

THAT WE SHOULD BE OPEN IN OUR DEALINGS.

In doing aught which thou hast clearly discerned as right to do, seek

never to avoid being seen in the doing of it, even though the multitude

should be destined to form some wrong opinion concerning it. For if thou

dost not right, avoid the deed itself. But if rightly, why fear those

who will wrongly rebuke thee?

CHAPTER VI.

THAT HALF TRUE MAY BE ALL FALSE.

As the sayings, _It is day_, _It is night_, are wholly justifiable if

viewed disjunctively, but not if viewed together, even so at a feast, to

pick out the largest portion for one's self may be justifiable, if we

look to the needs of the body alone, but is unjustifiable if viewed as

it concerns the preservation of the proper community in the feast.

Therefore, in eating with another person, remember not to look only at

the value for the body of the things that are set before thee, but to

preserve also the reverence due to the giver of the feast.

CHAPTER VII.

THAT EACH MAN PLAY HIS OWN PART.

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

both come to shame in that, and missed one thou couldst have well

performed.