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That confidence (courage) is not inconsistent with caution.
THE opinion of the philosophers perhaps seems to some to
be a paradox; but still let us examine as well as we can,
if it is true that it is possible to do every thing both with
caution and with confidence. For caution seems to be in
a manner contrary to confidence, and contraries are in no
way consistent. That which seems to many to be a paradox in the matter under consideration in my opinion is of
this kind: if we asserted that we ought to employ caution
and confidence in the same things, men might justly
accuse us of bringing together things which cannot be
united. But now where is the difficulty in what is said?
for if these things are true, which have been often said
and often proved, that the nature of good is in the use of
appearances, and the nature of evil likewise, and that
things independent of our will do not admit either the
nature of evil nor of good, what paradox do the philosophers assert if they say that where things are not
dependent on the will, there you should employ confidence,
but where they are dependent on the will, there you
should employ caution? For if the bad consists in a bad
exercise of the will, caution ought only to be used where
things are dependent on the will. But if things independent of the will and not in our power are nothing to
us, with respect to these we must employ confidence; and
thus we shall both be cautious and confident, and indeed
confident because of our caution. For by employing
caution towards things which are really bad, it will result
that we shall have confidence with respect to things which
are not so.
We are then in the condition of deer;1 when they flee
from the huntsmen's feathers in fright, whither do they
turn and in what do they seek refuge as safe? They turn
to the nets, and thus they perish by confounding things
which are objects of fear with things that they ought not
to fear. Thus we also act: in what cases do we fear? In
things which are independent of the will. In what cases
on the contrary do we behave with confidence, as if there
were no danger? In things dependent on the will. To
be deceived then, or to act rashly, or shamelessly or with
base desire to seek something, does not concern us at all,
if we only hit the mark in things which are independent
of our will. But where there is death, or exile or pain or
infamy, there we attempt to run away, there we are struck
with terror. Therefore as we may expect it to happen
with those who err in the greatest matters, we convert
natural confidence (that is, according to nature) into
audacity, desperation, rashness, shamelessness; and we
convert natural caution and modesty into cowardice and
meanness, which are full of fear and confusion. For if a
man should transfer caution to those things in which the
will may be exercised and the acts of the will, he will
immediately by willing to be cautious have also the power
of avoiding what he chooses: but if he transfer it to the
things which are not in his power and will, and attempt
to avoid the things which are in the power of others, he
will of necessity fear, he will be unstable, he will be dis-
turbed. For death or pain is not formidable, but the fear
of pain or death. For this reason we commend the poet2
who said
Not death is evil, but a shameful death.
Confidence (courage) then ought to be employed against
death, and caution against the fear of death. But now we
do the contrary, and employ against death the attempt to
escape; and to our opinion about it we employ carelessness, rashness and indifference. These things Socrates3
properly used to call tragic masks; for as to children
masks appear terrible and fearful from inexperience, we
also are affected in like manner by events (the things
which happen in life) for no other reason than children
are by masks. For what is a child? Ignorance. What
is a child? Want of knowledge. For when a child knows
these things, he is in no way inferior to us. What is
death? A tragic mask. Turn it and examine it. See, it
does not bite. The poor body must be separated4 from
the spirit either now or later as it was separated from
it before. Why then are you troubled, if it be separated now? for if it is not separated now, it will he
separated afterwards. Why? That the period of the
universe may be completed,5 for it has need of the pre-
sent, and of the future, and of the past. What is pain?
A mask. Turn it and examine it. The poor flesh is
moved roughly, then on the contrary smoothly. If this
does not satisfy (please) you, the door is open:6 if it
does, bear (with things). For the door ought to be open
for all occasions; and so we have no trouble.
What then is the fruit of these opinions? It is that
which ought to be the most noble and the most becoming
to those who are really educated, release from perturbation, release from fear, freedom. For in these matters we
must not believe the many, who say that free persons only
ought to be educated, but we should rather believe the philosophers who say that the educated only are free. How is
this? In this manner. Is freedom any thing else than the
power of living as we choose? Nothing else. Tell me then,
ye men, do you wish to live in error? We do not. No one
then who lives in error is free. Do you wish to live in fear?
Do you wish to live in sorrow? Do you wish to live in perturbation? By no means. No one then who is in a state
of fear or sorrow or perturbation is free; but whoever is
delivered from sorrows and fears and perturbations, he is
at the same time also delivered from servitude. How then
can we continue to believe you, most dear legislators, when
you say, We only allow free persons to be educated? For
philosophers say we allow none to be free except the
educated; that is, God does not allow it. When then a
man has turned7 round before the praetor his own slave,
has he done nothing? He has done something. What?
He has turned round his own slave before the praetor.
Has he done nothing more? Yes: he is also bound to
pay for him the tax called the twentieth. Well then, is
not the man who has gone through this ceremony become
free? No more than he is become free from perturbations.
Have you who are able to turn round (free) others no
master? is not money your master, or a girl or a boy, or
some tyrant, or some friend of the tyrant? why do you
tremble then when you are going off to any trial (danger)
of this kind? It is for this reason that I often say, study
and hold in readiness these principles by which you may
determine what those things are with reference to which
you ought to have confidence (courage), and those things
with reference to which you ought to be cautious:
courageous in that which does not depend on your will;
cautious in that which does depend on it.
Well have I not read to you,8 and do you not know
what I was doing? In what? In my little dissertations.
—Show me how you are with respect to desire and aver-
sion (ἔκκλισιν); and show me if you do not fail in getting
what you wish, and if you do not fall into the things
which you would avoid: but as to these long and labored
sentences9 you will take them and blot them out.
What then did not Socrates write? And who wrote so
much?10—But how? As he could not always have at
hand one to argue against his principles or to be argued
against in turn, he used to argue with and examine himself,
and he was always treating at least some one subject in
a practical way. These are the things which a philosopher
writes. But little dissertations and that method, which I
speak of, he leaves to others, to the stupid, or to those
happy men who being free from perturbations11 have
leisure, or to such as are too foolish to reckon con.
sequences.
And will you now, when the opportunity invites, go
and display those things which you possess, and recite
them, and make an idle show,12 and say, See how I make
dialogues? Do not so, my man; but rather say; See
how I am not disappointed of that which I desire: See
how I do not fall into that which I would avoid. Set
death before me, and you will see. Set before me pain,
prison, disgrace and condemnation. This is the proper
display of a young man who is come out of the schools.
But leave the rest to others, and let no one ever hear you
say a word about these things; and if any man commends
you for them, do not allow it; but think that you are
nobody and know nothing. Only show that you know
this, how never to be disappointed in your desire and how
never to fall into that which you would avoid. Let others
labour at forensic causes, problems and syllogisms: do
you labour at thinking about death,13 chains, the rack,
exile;14 and do all this with confidence and reliance on
him who has called you to these sufferings, who has
judged you worthy of the place in which being stationed
you will show what things the rational governing power
can do when it takes its stand against the forces which
are not within the power of our will. And thus this paradox will no longer appear either impossible or a paradox,
that a man ought to be at the same time cautious and
courageous: courageous towards the things which do not
depend on the will, and cautious in things which are within
the power of the will.
Of tranquillity (freedom from perturbation).
CONSIDER, you who are going into court, what you wish to
maintain and what you wish to succeed in. For if you
wish to maintain a will conformable to nature, you have
every security, every facility, you have no troubles. For
if you wish to maintain what is in your own power and
is naturally free, and if you are content with these, what
else do you care for? For who is the master of such
things? Who can take them away? If you choose to be
modest and faithful, who shall not allow you to be so?
If you choose not to be restrained or compelled, who shall
compel you to desire what you think that you ought not
to desire? who shall compel you to avoid what you do not
think fit to avoid? But what do you say? The judge
will determine against you something that appears formidable; but that you should also suffer in trying to avoid it,
how can he do that? When then the pursuit of objects and
the avoiding of them are in your power, what else do you
care for? Let this be your preface,15 this your narrative,
this your confirmation, this your victory, this your peroration, this your applause (or the approbation which you
will receive).
Therefore Socrates said to one who was reminding him
to prepare for his trial,16 Do you not think then that I
have been preparing for it all my life? By what kind of
preparation? I have maintained that which was in my
own power. How then? I have never done anything
unjust either in my private or in my public life.
But if you wish to maintain externals also, your poor
body, your little property and your little estimation, I
advise you to make from this moment all possible preparation, and then consider both the nature of your judge
and your adversary. If it is necessary to embrace his
knees, embrace his knees; if to weep, weep; if to groan,
groan. For when you have subjected to externals what is
your own, then be a slave and do not resist, and do not
sometimes choose to be a slave, and sometimes not choose,
but with all your mind be one or the other, either free or
a slave, either instructed or uninstructed, either a well
bred cock or a mean one, either endure to be beaten until
you die or yield at once; and let it not happen to you
to receive many stripes and then to yield. But if these
things are base, determine immediately. Where is the
nature of evil and good? It is where truth is: where
truth is and where nature is, there is caution: where
truth is, there is courage where nature is.17
For what do you think? do you think that, if Socrates
had wished to preserve externals, he would have come
forward and said: Anytus and Melitus can certainly kill
me, but to harm me they are not able? Was he so foolish
as not to see that this way leads not to the preservation
of life and fortune, but to another end? What is the
reason then that he takes no account of his adversaries,
and even irritates them?18 Just in the same way my
friend Heraclitus, who had a little suit in Rhodes about a
bit of land, and had proved to the judges (δικασταῖς) that
his case was just, said when he had come to the peroration
of his speech, I will neither intreat you nor do I care
what judgment you will give, and it is you father than I
who are on your trial. And thus he ended the business.19
What need was there of this? Only do not intreat; but
do not also say, 'I do not intreat;' unless there is a fit
occasion to irritate purposely the judges, as was the case
with Socrates. And you, if you are preparing such a
peroration, why do you wait, why do you obey the order
to submit to trial? For if you wish to be crucified, wait
and the cross will come: but if you choose to submit and
to plead your cause as well as you can, you must do what
is consistent with this object, provided you maintain what
is your own (your proper character).
For this reason also it is ridiculous to say, Suggest
something to me20 (tell me what to do). What should I
suggest to you? Well, form my mind so as to accommodate itself to any event. Why that is just the same as
if a man who is ignorant of letters should say, Tell me
what to write when any name is proposed to me. For if
I should tell him to write Dion, and then another should
come and propose to him not the name of Dion but that of
Theon, what will be done? what will he write? But if
you have practised writing, you are also prepared to
write (or to do) any thing that is required. If21 you are
not, what can I now suggest? For if circumstances require something else, what will you say, or what will you
do? Remember then this general precept and you will
need no suggestion. But if you gape after externals, you
must of necessity ramble up and down in obedience to
the will of your master. And who is the master? He
who has the power over the things which you seek to
gain or try to avoid.22
To those who recommend persons to philosophers.
DIOGENES said well to one who asked from him letters of
recommendation, “That you are a man, he said, he will
know as soon as he sees you; and he will know whether
you are good or bad, if he is by experience skilful to
distinguish the good and the bad; but if he is without
experience, he will never know, if I write to him ten
thousand times.”23 For it is just the same as if a drachma
(a piece of silver money) asked to be recommended to a
person to be tested. If he is skilful in testing silver, he
will know what you are, for you (the drachma) will
recommend yourself. We ought then in life also to have
some skill as in the case of silver coin that a man may be
able to say like the judge of silver, Bring me any drachma
and I will test it. But in the case of syllogisms, I would
say, Bring any man that you please, and I will distinguish
for you the man who knows how to resolve syllogisms and
the man who does not. Why? Because I know how to
resolve syllogisms. I have the power, which a man must
have who is able to discover those who have the power of
resolving syllogisms. But in life how do I act? At one
time I call a thing good, and at another time bad. What
is the reason? The contrary to that which is in the case
of syllogisms, ignorance and inexperience.
Against a person who had once been detected in adultery.
As Epictetus was saying that man is formed for fidelity,
and that he who subverts fidelity subverts the peculiar
characteristic of men, there entered one of those who are
considered to be men of letters, who had once been
detected in adultery in the city. Then Epictetus continued, But if we lay aside this fidelity for which we are
formed and make designs against our neighbour's wife,
what are we doing? What else but destroying and overthrowing? Whom, the man of fidelity, the man of
modesty, the man of sanctity. Is this all? And are we
not overthrowing neighbourhood, and friendship, and the
community; and in what place are we putting ourselves?
How shall I consider you, man? As a neighbour, as a
friend? What kind of one? As a citizen? Wherein shall
I trust you? So if you were an utensil so worthless that a
man could not use you, you would be pitched out on the
dung heaps, and no man would pick you up. But if
being a man you are unable to fill any place which befits
a man, what shall we do with you? For suppose that
you cannot hold the place of a friend, can you hold the
place of a slave? And who will trust you? Are you not
then content that you also should be pitched somewhere
on a dung heap, as a useless utensil, and a bit of dung?
Then will you say, no man cares for me, a man of letters?
They do not, because you are bad and useless. It is just
as if the wasps complained because no man cares for
them, but all fly from them, and if a man can, he strikes
them and knocks them down. You have such a sting
that you throw into trouble and pain any man that you
wound with it. What would you have us do with you?
You have no place where you can be put.
What then, are not women common by nature?24 So I
say also; for a little pig is common to all the invited
guests, but when the portions have been distributed, go, if
you think it right, and snatch up the portion of him who
reclines next to you, or slily steal it, or place your hand
down by it and lay hold of it, and if you can not tear
away a bit of the meat, grease your fingers and lick them.
A fine companion over cups, and Socratic guest indeed
Well, is not the theatre common to the citizens? When
then they have taken their seats, come, if you think
proper, and eject one of them. In this way women also
are common by nature. When then the legislator, like the
master of a feast, has distributed them, will you not also
look for your own portion and not filch and handle what
belongs to another. But I am a man of letters and
understand Archedemus.25—Understand Archedemus then,
and be an adulterer, and faithless, and instead of a man,
be a wolf or an ape: for what is the difference?26
How magnanimity is consistent with care.
THINGS themselves (materials) are indifferent;27 but the
use of them is not indifferent. How then shall a man
preserve firmness and tranquillity, and at the same time
be careful and neither rash nor negligent? If he imitates
those who play at dice. The counters are indifferent; the
dice are indifferent. How do I know what the cast will
be? But to use carefully and dexterously the cast of the
dice, this is my business.28 Thus then in life also the chief
business is this: distinguish and separate things, and say,
Externals are not in my power: will is in my power.
Where shall I seek the good and the bad? Within, in the
things which are my own. But in what does not belong
to you call nothing either good or bad, or profit or damage
or any thing of the kind.
What then? Should we use such things carelessly?
In no way: for this on the other hand is bad for the
faculty of the will, and consequently against nature; but
we should act carefully because the use is not indifferent,
and we should also act with firmness and freedom from
perturbations because the material is indifferent. For
where the material is not indifferent, there no man can
hinder me nor compel me. Where I can be hindered and
compelled, the obtaining of those things is not in my power,
nor is it good or bad; but the use is either bad or good,
and the use is in my power. But it is difficult to mingle
and to bring together these two things, the carefulness of
him who is affected by the matter (or things about him)
and the firmness of him who has no regard for it; but it
is not impossible: and if it is, happiness is impossible.
But we should act as we do in the case of a voyage. What
can I do? I can choose the master of the ship, the sailors,
the day, the opportunity. Then comes a storm. What
more have I to care for? for my part is done. The business belongs to another, the master.—But the ship is sinking—what then have I to do? I do the only thing that
I can, not to be drowned fill of fear, nor screaming nor
blaming God, but knowing that what has been produced
must also perish: for I am not an immortal being, but a
man, a part of the whole, as an hour is a part of the day;
I must be present like the hour, and past like the hour.
What difference then does it make to me, how I pass
away, whether by being suffocated or by a fever, for I
must pass through some such means?
This is just what you will see those doing who play at
ball skilfully. No one cares about the ball29 as being
good or bad, but about throwing and catching it. In this
therefore is the skill, in this the art, the quickness, the
judgment, so that even if I spread out my lap I may not
be able to catch it, and another, if I throw, may catch the
ball. But if with perturbation and fear we receive or
throw the ball, what kind of play is it then, and wherein
shall a man be steady, and how shall a man see the order
in the game? But one will say, Throw; or Do not throw;
and another will say, You have thrown once. This is
quarrelling, not play.
Socrates then knew how to play at ball. How? By
using pleasantry in the court where he was tried. Tell
me, he says, Anytus, how do you say that I do not believe
in God. The Daemons (δαίμονες), who are they, think
you? Are they not sons of Gods, or compounded of gods
and men? When Anytus admitted this, Socrates said,
Who then, think you, can believe that there are mules
(half asses), but not asses; and this he said as if he were
playing at ball.30 And what was the ball in that case?
Life, chains, banishment, a draught of poison, separation
from wife and leaving children orphans. These were the
things with which he was playing; but still he did play
and threw the ball skilfully. So we should do: we must
employ all the care of the players, but show the same
indifference about the ball. For we ought by all means
to apply our art to some external material, not as valuing
the material, but, whatever it may be, showing our art in
it. Thus too the weaver does not make wool, but exercises
his art upon such as he receives. Another gives you food
and property and is able to take them away and your poor
body also. When then you have received the material,
work on it. If then you come out (of the trial) without
having suffered any thing, all who meet you will congratulate you on your escape; but he who knows how to look
at such things, if he shall see that you have behaved
properly in the matter, will commend you and be pleased
with you; and if he shall find that you owe your escape
to any want of proper behaviour, he will do the contrary.
For where rejoicing is reasonable, there also is congratulation reasonable.
How then is it said that some external things are
according to nature and others contrary to nature? It is
said as it might be said if we were separated from union
(or society). for to the foot I shall say that it is according to nature for it to be clean; but if you take it as a
foot and as a thing not detached (independent), it will
befit it both to step into the mud and tread on thorns, and
sometimes to be cut off for the good of the whole body;
otherwise it is no longer a foot. We should think in some
such way about ourselves alsc. What are you? A man.
If you consider yourself as detached from other men, it is
according to nature to live to old age, to be rich, to be
healthy. But if you consider yourself as a man and a
part of a certain whole, it is for the sake of that whole
that at one time you should be sick, at another time take
a voyage and run into danger, and at another time be in
want, and in some cases die prematurely. Why then are
you troubled? Do you not know, that as a foot is no
longer a foot if it is detached from the body, so you are
no longer a man if you are separated from other men.
For what is a man?31 A part of a state, of that first which
consists of Gods and of men; then of that which is called
32
next to it, which is a small image of the universal state.
What then must I be brought to trial; must another have
a fever, another sail on the sea, another die, and another
be condemned? Yes, for it is impossible in such a body,
in such a universe of things, among so many living together, that such things should not happen, some to one
and others to others. It is your duty then since you are
come here, to say what you ought, to arrange these things
as it is fit.33 Then some one says, “I shall charge you
with doing me wrong.” Much good may it do you: I
have done my part; but whether you also have done yours,
you must look to that; for there is some danger of this
too, that it may escape your notice.
Of indifference.
34
THE hypothetical proposition35 is indifferent: the judgment
about it is not indifferent, but it is either knowledge or
opinion or error. Thus life is indifferent: the use is not
indifferent. When any man then tells you that these
things also are indifferent, do not become negligent; and
when a man invites you to be careful (about such things),
do not become abject and struck with admiration of material things. And it is good for you to know your own
preparation and power, that in those matters where you
have not been prepared, you may keep quiet, and not be
vexed, if others have the advantage over you. For you
too in syllogisms will claim to have the advantage over
them; and if others should be vexed at this, you will
console them by saying, 'I have learned them, and you
have not.' Thus also where there is need of any practice,
seek not that which is acquired from the need (of such
practice), but yield in that matter to those who have had
practice, and be yourself content with firmness of mind.
Go and salute a certain person. How? Not meanly.—
But I have been shut out, for I have not learned to make
my way through the window; and when I have found the
door shut, I must either come back or enter through the
window.—But still speak to him.—In what way? Not
meanly. But suppose that you have not got what you
wanted. Was this your business, and not his? Why then
do you claim that which belongs to another? Always
remember what is your own, and what belongs to another;
and you will not be disturbed. Chrysippus therefore said
well, So long as future things are uncertain, I always
cling to those which are more adapted to the conservation
of that which is according to nature; for God himself has
given me the faculty of such choice. But if I knew that
it was fated (in the order of things) for me to be sick, I
would even move towards it; for the foot also, if it had
intelligence, would move to go into the mud.36 For why
are ears of corn produced? Is it not that they may
become dry? And do they not become dry that they may
be reaped?37 for they are not separated from communion
with other things. If then they had perception, ought
they to wish never to be reaped? But this is a curse upon
ears of corn, to be never reaped. So we must know that
in the case of men too it is a curse not to die, just the
same as not to be ripened and not to be reaped. But since
we must be reaped, and we also know that we are reaped,
we are vexed at it; for we neither know what we are nor
have we studied what belongs to man, as those who have
studied horses know what belongs to horses. But Cbry-
santas38 when he was going to strike the enemy checked
himself when he heard the trumpet sounding a retreat: so
it seemed better to him to obey the general's command
than to follow his own inclination. But not one of us
chooses, even when necessity summons, readily to obey it,
but weeping and groaning we suffer what we do suffer,
and we call them 'circumstances.' What kind of circumstances, man? If you give the name of circumstances to
the things which are around you, all things are circumstances; but if you call hardships by this name, what
hardship is there in the dying of that which has been produced? But that which destroys is either a sword, or a
wheel, or the sea, or a tile, or a tyrant. Why do you care
about the way of going down to Hades? All ways are
equal.39 But if you will listen to the truth, the way which
the tyrant sends you is shorter. A tyrant never killed a
man in six months: but a fever is often a year about it.
All these things are only sound and the noise of empty
names.
I am in danger of my life from Caesar.40 And am not I
in danger who dwell in Nicopolis, where there are so
many earthquakes: and when you are crossing the
Hadriatic, what hazard do you run? Is it not the hazard
of your life? But I am in danger also as to opinion. Do
you mean your own? how? For who can compel you to
have any opinion which you do not choose? But is it as
to another man's opinion? and what kind of danger is
yours, if others have false opinions? But I am in danger
of being banished. What is it to be banished? To be
somewhere else than at Rome? Yes: what then if I
should be sent to Gyara?41 If that suits you, you will go
there; but if it does not, you can go to another place
instead of Gyara, whither he also will go, who sends you
to Gyara, whether he choose or not. Why then do you
go up to Rome as if it were something great? It is not
worth all this preparation, that an ingenuous youth
should say, It was not worth while to have heard so
much and to have written so much and to have sat so long
by the side of an old man who is not worth much. Only
remember that division by which your own and not your
own are distinguished: never claim any thing which
belongs to others. A tribunal and a prison are each a
place, one high and the other low; but the will can be
maintained equal, if you choose to maintain it equal in
each. And we shall then be imitators of Socrates, when
we are able to write paeans in prison.42 But in our present
disposition, consider if we could endure in prison another
person saying to us, Would you like me to read Paeans to
you?—Why do you trouble me? do you not know the
evils which hold me? Can I in such circumstances (listen
to paeans)?—What circumstances?—I am going to die.—
And will other men be immortal?
How we ought to use divination.
THROUGH an unreasonable regard to divination many of
us omit many duties.43 For what more can the diviner
see than death or danger or disease, or generally things of
that kind? If then I must expose myself to danger for a
friend, and if it is my duty even to die for him, what need
have I then for divination? Have I not within me a
diviner who has told me the nature of good and of evil,
and has explained to me the signs (or marks) of both?
What need have I then to consult the viscera of victims or
the flight of birds, and why do I submit when he says, It
is for your interest? For does he know what is for my
interest, does he know what is good; and as he has
learned the signs of the viscera, has he also learned the
signs of good and evil? For if he knows the signs of
these, he knows the signs both of the beautiful and of the
ugly, and of the just and of the unjust. Do you tell me,
man, what is the thing which is signified for me: is it life
or death, poverty or wealth? But whether these things
are for my interest or whether they are not, I do not
intend to ask you. Why don't you give your opinion on
matters of grammar, and why do you give it here about
things on which we are all in error and disputing with
one another?44 The woman therefore, who intended to
send by a vessel a month's provisions to Gratilla45 in her
banishment, made a good answer to him who said that
Domitian would seize what she sent, I would rather, she
replied, that Domitian should seize all than that I should
not send it.
What then leads us to frequent use of divination?
Cowardice, the dread of what will happen. This is the
reason why we flatter the diviners. Pray, master, shall I
succeed to the property of my father? Let us see: let us
sacrifice on the occasion.—Yes, master, as fortune chooses.
—When he has said, You shall succeed to the inheritance,
we thank him as if we received the inheritance from him.
The consequence is that they play upon us.46
What then should we do? We ought to come (to divination) without desire or aversion, as the wayfarer asks of
the man whom he meets which of two roads leads (to his
journey's end), without any desire for that which leads to
the right rather than to the left, for he has no wish to go by
any road except the road which leads (to his end). In the
same way ought we to come to God also as a guide; as we
use our eyes, not asking them to show us rather such
things as we wish, but receiving the appearances of
things such as the eyes present them to us. But now we
trembling take the augur (bird interpreter)47 by the hand,
and while we invoke God we intreat the augur, and say
Master have mercy on me;48 suffer me to come safe out of
this difficulty. Wretch, would you have then any thing
other than what is best? Is there then any thing better
than what pleases God? Why do you, as far as is in your
power, corrupt your judge and lead astray your adviser?
What is the nature (ἡ οὐσία) of the Good
49
GOD is beneficial. But the Good also is beneficial.50 It is
consistent then that where the nature of God is, there also
the nature of the good should be. What then is the
nature of God?51 Flesh? Certainly not. An estate in
land? By no means. Fame? No. Is it intelligence,
knowledge, right reason? Yes. Herein then simply seek
the nature of the good; for I suppose that you do not seek
it in a plant. No. Do you seek it in an irrational
animal? No. If then you seek it in a rational animal,
why do you still seek it any where except in the supe-
riority of rational over irrational animals?52 Now plants
have not even the power of using appearances, and for this
reason you do not apply the term good to them. The
good then requires the use of appearances. Does it re-
quire this use only? For if you say that it requires this
use only, say that the good, and that happiness and unhap-
piness are in irrational animals also. But you do not say
this, and you do right; for if they possess even in the
highest degree the use of appearances, yet they have not
the faculty of understanding the use of appearances; and
there is good reason for this, for they exist for the purpose
of serving others, and they exercise no superiority. For
the ass, I suppose, does not exist for any superiority over
others. No; but because we had need of a back which is
able to bear something; and in truth we had need also of
his being able to walk, and for this reason he received
also the faculty of making use of appearances, for other
wise he would not have been able to walk. And here then
the matter stopped. For if he had also received the faculty
of comprehending the use of appearances, it is plain that
consistently with reason he would not then have beer
subjected to us, nor would he have done us these services,
but he would have been equal to us and like to us.
Will you not then seek the nature of good in the
rational animal? for if it is not there, you will not choose
to say that it exists in any other thing (plant or animal).
What then? are not plants and animals also the works of
God? They are; but they are not superior things, nor
yet parts of the Gods. But you are a superior thing; you
are a portion separated from the deity; you have in yourself a certain portion of him. Why then are you ignorant
of your own noble descent?53 Why do you not know
whence you came? will you not remember when you are
eating, who you are who eat and whom you feed? When
you are in conjunction with a woman, will you not remember who you are who do this thing? When you are
in social intercourse, when you are exercising yourself,
when you are engaged in discussion, know you not that
you are nourishing a god, that you are exercising a god?
Wretch, you are carrying about a god with you, and you
know it not.54 Do you think that I mean some God of
silver or of gold, and external? You carry him within
yourself, and you perceive not that you are polluting him
by impure thoughts and dirty deeds. And if an image of
God were present, you would not dare to do any of the
things which you are doing: but when God himself is
present within and sees all and hears all, you are not
ashamed of thinking such things and doing such things,
ignorant as you are of your own nature and subject to the
anger of God. Then why do we fear when we are sending a young man from the school into active life, lest he
should do anything improperly, eat improperly, have
improper intercourse with women; and lest the rags in
which he is wrapped should debase him, lest fine garments
should make him proud? This youth (if he acts thus)
does not know his own God: he knows not with whom he
sets out (into the world). But can we endure when he
says' I wish I had you (God) with me.' Have you not
God with you? and do you seek for any other, when you
have him? or will God tell you any thing else than this?
If you were a statue of Phidias, either Athena or Zeus, you
would think both of yourself and of the artist, an if you
had any understanding (power of perception) you would
try to do nothing unworthy of him who made you or of
yourself, and try not to appear in an unbecoming dress
(attitude) to those who look on you. But now because
Zeus has made you, for this reason do you care not how you
shall appear? And yet is the artist (in the one case) like
the artist in the other? or the work in the one case like
the other? And what work of an artist, for instance, has
in itself the faculties, which the artist shows in making
it? Is it not marble or bronze, or gold or ivory? and the
Athena of Phidias when she has once extended the hand
and received in it the figure of Victory55 stands in that
attitude for ever. But the works of God have power of
motion, they breathe, they have the faculty of using the
appearances of things, and the power of examining them.
Being the work of such an artist do you dishonour him?
And what shall I say, not only that he made you, but also
entrusted you to yourself and made you a deposit to your-
self? Will you not think of this too, but do you also dis-
honour your guardianship? But if God had entrusted
an orphan to you, would you thus neglect him? He has
delivered yourself to your own care, and says, I had no
one fitter to intrust him to than yourself: keep him for
me such as he is by nature, modest, faithful, erect, unterri-
fled, free from passion and perturbation. And then you
do not keep him such.
But some will say, whence has this fellow got the
arrogance which he displays and these supercilious
looks?—I have not yet so much gravity as befits a
philosopher; for I do not yet feel confidence in what I
have learned and in what I have assented to: I still
fear my own weakness. Let me get confidence and
then you shall see a countenance such as I ought to have
and an attitude such as I ought to have: then I will
show to you the statue, when it is perfected, when it
is polished. What do you expect? a supercilious coun-
tenance? Does the Zeus at Olympia56 lift up his brow?
No, his look is fixed as becomes him who is ready to
say
Irrevocable is my word and shall not fail.—Iliad, i. 526.
Such will I show myself to you, faithful, modest, noble,
free from perturbation—What, and immortal too, exempt
from old age, and from sickness? No, but dying as becomes
a god, sickening as becomes a god. This power I possess;
this I can do. But the rest I do not possess, nor can I do.
I will show the nerves (strength) of a philosopher. What
Lerves57 are these? A desire never disappointed, an
aversion58 which never falls on that which it would
avoid, a proper pursuit (ὁρμήν), a diligent purpose, an
assent which is not rash. These you shall see.
That when we cannot fulfil that which the character of a man promises, we assume the character of a philosopher.
It is no common (easy) thing to do this only, to fulfil the
promise of a man's nature. For what is a man? The
answer is, a rational and mortal being. Then by the
rational faculty from whom are we separated?59 From
wild beasts. And from what others? From sheep and
like animals. Take care then to do nothing like a wild
beast; but if you do, you have lost the character of
a man; you have not fulfilled your promise. See that
you do nothing like a sheep; but if you do, in this case
also the man is lost. What then do we do as sheep?
When we act gluttonously, when we act lewdly, when we
act rashly, filthily, inconsiderately, to what have we
declined? To sheep. What have we lost? The rational
faculty. When we act contentiously and harmfully and
passionately, and violently, to what have we declined?
To wild beasts. Consequently some of us are great wild
beasts, and others little beasts, of a bad disposition and
small, whence we may say, Let me be eaten by a lion.60
But in all these ways the promise of a man acting as a
man is destroyed. For when is a conjunctive (complex)
proposition maintained?61 When it fulfils what its nature
promises; so that the preservation of a complex proposition is when it is a conjunction of truths. When is a
disjunctive maintained? When it fulfils what it promises.
When are flutes, a lyre, a horse, a dog, preserved? (when
they severally keep their promise). What is the wonder
then if man also in like manner is preserved, and in like
manner is lost? Each man is improved and preserved by
corresponding acts, the carpenter by acts of carpentry,
the grammarian by acts of grammar. But if a man
accustoms himself to write ungrammatically, of necessity
his art will be corrupted and destroyed. Thus modest
actions preserve the modest man, and immodest actions
destroy him: and actions of fidelity preserve the faithful
man, and the contrary actions destroy him. And on the
other hand contrary actions strengthen contrary characters: shamelessness strengthens the shameless man,
faithlessness the faithless man, abusive words the abusive
man, anger the man of an angry temper, and unequal
receiving and giving make the avaricious man more
avaricious.
For this reason philosophers admonish us not to be
satisfied with learning only, but also to add study, and
then practice.62 For we have long been accustomed to do
contrary things, and we put in practice opinions which
are contrary to true opinions. If then we shall not also
put in practice right opinions, we shall be nothing more
than the expositors of the opinions of others. For now
who among us is not able to discourse according to the
rules of art about good and evil things (in this fashion)?
That of things some are good, and some are bad, and some
are indifferent: the good then are virtues, and the things
which participate in virtues; and the bad are the contrary; and the indifferent are wealth, health, reputation.—
Then, if in the midst of our talk there should happen some
greater noise than usual, or some of those who are present
should laugh at us, we are disturbed. Philosopher, where
are the things which you were talking about? Whence
did you produce and utter them. From the lips, and
thence only. Why then do you corrupt the aids provided
by others? Why do you treat the weightiest matters as if
you were playing a game of dice? For it is one thing
to lay up bread and wine as in a storehouse, and another
thing to eat. That which has been eaten, is digested,
distributed, and is become sinews, flesh, bones, blood,
healthy colour, healthy breath. Whatever is stored up,
when you choose you can readily take and show it; but
you have no other advantage from it except so far as to
appear to possess it. For what is the difference between
explaining these doctrines and those of men who have
different opinions? Sit down now and explain according
to the rules of art the opinions of Epicurus, and perhaps
you will explain his opinions in a more useful manner
than Epicurus himself.63 Why then do you call yourself a
Stoic? Why do you deceive the many? Why do you act
the part of a Jew,64 when you are a Greek? Do you not
see how (why) each is called a Jew, or a Syrian or an
Egyptian? and when we see a man inclining to two sides,
we are accustomed to say, This man is not a Jew, but he
acts as one. But when he has assumed the affects of one
who has been imbued with Jewish doctrine and has
adopted that sect, then he is in fact and he is named a
Jew.65 Thus we too being falsely imbued (baptized), are
in name Jews, but in fact we are something else. Our
affects (feelings) are inconsistent with our words; we are
far from practising what we say, and that of which we are
proud, as if we knew it. Thus being unable to fulfil even
what the character of a man promises, we even add to it
the profession of a philosopher, which is as heavy a burden,
as if a man who is unable to bear ten pounds should
attempt to raise the stone which Ajax66 lifted.
How we may discover the duties of life from names.
CONSIDER who you are. In the first place, you are a man67
and this is one who has nothing superior to the faculty of
the will, but all other things subjected to it; and the
faculty itself he possesses unenslaved and free from subjection. Consider then from what things you have been
separated by reason. You have been separated from wild
beasts: you have been separated from domestic animals
(προβάτων). Further, you are a citizen of the world,68 and
a part of it, not one of the subservient (serving), but one
of the principal (ruling) parts, for you are capable of comprehending the divine administration and of considering
the connexion of things. What then does the character
of a citizen promise (profess)? To hold nothing as profitable to himself; to deliberate about nothing as if he
were detached from the community, but to act as the
hand or foot would do, if they had reason and understood
the constitution of nature, for they would never put themselves in motion nor desire any thing otherwise than with
reference to the whole. Therefore the philosophers say
well, that if the good man had foreknowledge of what
would happen, he would co-operate towards his own sickness and death and mutilation, since he knows69 that these
things are assigned to him according to the universal
arrangement, and that the whole is superior to the part,
and the state to the citizen.70 But now because we do not
know the future, it is our duty to stick to the things
which are in their nature more suitable for our choice, for
we were made among other things for this.
After this remember that you are a son. What does
this character promise? To consider that every thing
which is the son's belongs to the father, to obey him in
all things, never to blame him to another, nor to say or
do any thing which does him injury, to yield to him in all
things and give way, co-operating with him as far as you
can. After this know that you are a brother also, and
that to this character it is due to make concessions; to be
easily persuaded, to speak good of your brother, never to
claim in opposition to him any of the things which are
independent of the will, but readily to give them up, that
you may have the larger share in what is dependent on
the will. For see what a thing it is, in place of a lettuce,
if it should so happen, or a seat, to gain for yourself
goodness of disposition. How great is the advantage.71
Next to this, if you are a senator of any state, remember
that you are a senator: if a youth, that you are a youth:
if an old man, that you are an old man; for each of such
names, if it comes to be examined, marks out the proper
duties. But if you go and blame your brother, I say to
you, You have forgotten who you are and what is your
name. In the next place, if you were a smith and made
a wrong use of the hammer, you would have forgotten the
smith; and if you have forgotten the brother and instead
of a brother have become an enemy, would you appear not
to have changed one thing for another in that case? And
if instead of a man, who is a tame animal and social, you
are become a mischievous wild beast, treacherous, and
biting, have you lost nothing? But, (I suppose) you must
lose a bit of money that you may suffer damage? And
does the loss of nothing else do a man damage? If you
had lost the art of grammar or music, would you think
the loss of it a damage? and if you shall lose modesty,
moderation (καταστολήν) and gentleness, do you think the
loss nothing? And yet the things first mentioned are lost
by some cause external and independent of the will, and
the second by our own fault; and as to the first neither to
have them nor to lose them is shameful; but as to the
second, not to have them and to lose them is shameful and
matter of reproach and a misfortune. What does the
pathic lose? He loses the (character of) man. What
does he lose who makes the pathic what he is? Many
other things; and he also loses the man no less than the
other. What does he lose who commits adultery? He
loses the (character of the) modest, the temperate, the
decent, the citizen, the neighbour. What does he lose who
is angry? Something else. What does the coward lose?
Something else. No man is bad without suffering some
loss and damage. If then you look for the damage in
the loss of money only, all these men receive no harm
or damage; it may be, they have even profit and gain,
when they acquire a bit of money by any of these deeds.
But consider that if you refer every thing to a small coin,
not even he who loses his nose is in your opinion damaged.
Yes, you say, for he is mutilated in his body. Well; but
does he who has lost his smell only lose nothing? Is there
then no energy of the soul which is an advantage to him
who possesses it, and a damage to him who has lost it?—
Tell me what sort (of energy) you mean.—Have we not a
natural modesty?—We have.—Does he who loses this
sustain no damage? is he deprived of nothing, does he part
with nothing of the things which belong to him? Have
we not naturally fidelity? natural affection, a natural disposition to help others, a natural disposition to forbearance?
The man then who allows himself to be damaged in these
matters, can he be free from harm and uninjured72 What
then? shall I not hurt him, who has hurt me?73 In the
first place consider what hurt (βλάβη) is, and remember
what you have heard from the philosophers. For if the
good consists in the will (purpose, intention, προαιρέσει),
and the evil also in the will,74 see if what you say is
not this: What then, since that man has hurt himself
by doing an unjust act to me, shall I not hurt myself
by doing some unjust act to him? Why do we not
imagine to ourselves (mentally think of) something of
this kind? But where there is any detriment to the body
or to our possession, there is harm there; and where the
same thing happens to the faculty of the will, there is
(you suppose) no harm; for he who has been deceived or
he who has done an unjust act neither suffers in the head
nor in the eye nor in the hip, nor does he lose his estate;
and we wish for nothing else than (security to) these
things. But whether we shall have the will modest and
faithful or shameless and faithless, we care not the least,
except only in the school so far as a few words are con-
cerned. Therefore our proficiency is limited to these few
words; but beyond them it does not exist even in the
slightest degree.75
What the beginning of philosophy is.
THE beginning of philosophy to him at least who enters
on it in the right way and by the door, is a consciousness
of his own weakness and inability about necessary things.
For we come into the world with no natural notion of a
right angled triangle, or of a diesis (a quarter tone), or of
a half tone; but we learn each of these things by a cer-
tain transmission according to art; and for this reason
those who do not know them, do not think that they know
them. But as to good and evil, and beautiful and ugly,
and becoming and unbecoming, and happiness and misfortune, and proper and improper, and what we ought to
do and what we ought not to do, who ever came into the
world without having an innate idea of them? Wherefore we all use these names, and we endeavour to fit the
preconceptions76 to the several cases (things) thus: he has
done well, he has not done well; he has done as he ought,
not as he ought; he has been unfortunate, he has been
fortunate; he is unjust, he is just: who does not use
these names? who among us defers the use of them till he
has learned them, as he defers the use of the words about
lines (geometrical figures) or sounds? And the cause of
this is that we come into the world already taught as it
were by nature some things on this matter (τόπον), and
proceeding from these we have added to them self—conceit
(οἴησιν).77 For why, a man says, do I not know the beautiful and the ugly? Have I not the notion of it? You
have. Do I not adapt it to particulars? You do. Do I
not then adapt it properly? In that lies the whole question; and conceit is added here. For beginning from
these things which are admitted men proceed to that
which is matter of dispute by means of unsuitable adaptation; for if they possessed this power of adaptation in
addition to those things, what would hinder them from
being perfect? But now since you think that you properly adapt the preconceptions to the particulars, tell me
whence you derive this (assume that you do so). Because
I think so. But it does not seem so to another, and he
thinks that he also makes a proper adaptation; or does he
not think so? He does think so. Is it possible then that
both of you can properly apply the preconceptions to
things about which you have contrary opinions? It is
not possible. Can you then show us anything better
towards adapting the preconceptions beyond your thinking
that you do? Does the madman do any other things than
the things which seem to him right? Is then this
criterion sufficient for him also? It is not sufficient.
Come then to something which is superior to seeming
(τοῦ δοκεῖν). What is this?
Observe, this is the beginning of philosophy, a perception of the disagreement of men with one another, and
an inquiry into the cause of the disagreement, and a
condemnation and distrust of that which only 'seems,'
and a certain investigation of that which 'seems' whether
it 'seems' rightly, and a discovery of some rule (κανόνος),
as we have discovered a balance in the determination of
weights, and a carpenter's rule (or square) in the case of
straight and crooked things.—This is the beginning of
philosophy. Must we say that all things are right which
seem so to all?78 And how is it possible that contradictions
can be right?—Not all then, but all which seem to us to be
right.—How more to you than those which seem right to the
Syrians? why more than what seem right to the Egyptians?
why more than what seems right to me or to any other man?
Not at all more. What then 'seems' to every man is not
sufficient for determining what 'is;' for neither in the case
of weights or measures are we satisfied with the bare appearance, but in each case we have discovered a certain
rule. In this matter then is there no rule superior to
what 'seems'? And how is it possible that the most
necessary things among men should have no sign (mark),
and be incapable of being discovered? There is then
some rule. And why then do we not seek the rule and
discover it, and afterwards use it without varying from it,
not even stretching out the finger without it?79 For this,
I think, is that which when it is discovered cures of their
madness those who use mere 'seeming' as a measure, and
misuse it; so that for the future proceeding from certain
things (principles) known and made clear we may use in
the case of particular things the preconceptions which are
distinctly fixed.
What is the matter presented to us about which we are
inquiring? Pleasure (for example). Subject it to the
rule, throw it into the balance. Ought the good to be
such a thing that it is fit that we have confidence in it?
Yes. And in which we ought to confide? It ought to
be. Is it fit to trust to any thing which is insecure?
No. Is then pleasure any thing secure? No. Take it
Then and throw it out of the scale, and drive it far away
from the place of good things. But if you are not sharp-
sighted, and one balance is not enough for you, bring
another. Is it fit to be elated over what is good? Yes.
Is it proper then to be elated over present pleasure? See
that you do not say that it is proper; but if you do, I
shall then not think you worthy even of the balance.80
Thus things are tested and weighed when the rules are
ready. And to philosophize is this, to examine and confirm the rules; and then to use them when they are
known is the act of a wise and good man.81
Of disputation or discussion.
WHAT things a man must learn in order to be able to
apply the art of disputation, has been accurately shown by
our philosophers (the Stoics); but with respect to the
proper use of the things, we are entirely without practice.
Only give to any of us, whom you please, an illiterate man
to discuss with, and he can not discover how to deal with
the man. But when he has moved the man a little, if he
answers beside the purpose, he does not know how to treat
him, but he then either abuses or ridicules him, and says,
He is an illiterate man; it is not possible to do any thing
with him. Now a guide, when he has found a man out of
the road leads him into the right way: he does not ridi-
eule or abuse him and then leave him. Do you also show
the illiterate man the truth, and you will see that he fellows. But so long as you do not show him the truth, do
not ridicule him, but rather feel your own incapacity.
How then did Socrates act? He used to compel his
adversary in disputation to bear testimony to him, and
he wanted no other witness.82 Therefore he could say, 'I
care not for other witnesses, but I am always satisfied
with the evidence (testimony) of my adversary, and I do
not ask the opinion of others, but only the opinion of him
who is disputing with me.' For he used to make the
conclusions drawn from natural notions83 so plain that
every man saw the contradiction (if it existed) and withdrew from it (thus):
Does the envious84 man rejoice? By
no means, but he is rather pained.85 Well, Do you think
that envy is pain over evils? and what envy is there of
evils? Therefore he made his adversary say that envy is
pain over good things. Well then, would any man envy
those who are nothing to him? By no means. Thus
having completed the notion and distinctly fixed it he
would go away without saying to his adversary, Define to
me envy; and if the adversary had defined envy, he did
not say, You have defined it badly, for the terms of the
definition do not correspond to the thing defined—These
are technical terms, and for this reason disagreeable and
hardly intelligible to illiterate men, which terms we
(philosophers) cannot lay aside. But that the illiterate
man himself, who follows the appearances presented to
him, should be able to concede any thing or reject it, we
can never by the use of these terms move him to do.86
Accordingly being conscious of our own inability, we do
not attempt the thing; at least such of us as have any
caution do not. But the greater part and the rash, when
they enter into such disputations, confuse themselves and
confuse others; and finally abusing their adversaries and
abused by them, they walk away.
Now this was the first and chief peculiarity of Socrates,
never to be irritated in argument, never to utter any thing
abusive, any thing insulting, but to bear with abusive
persons and to put an end to the quarrel. If you would
know what great power he had in this way, read the
Symposium of Xenophon,87 and you will see how many
quarrels he put an end to. Hence with good reason in the
poets also this power is most highly praised,
Quickly with skill he settles great disputes.
Hesiod, Theogony, v. 87.
Well then; the matter is not now very safe, and particularly at Rome; for he who attempts to do it, must not do
it in a corner, you may be sure, but must go to a man of
consular rank, if it so happen, or to a rich man, and ask
him, Can you tell me, Sir, to whose care you have entrusted your horses? I can tell you. Have you entrusted
them to any person indifferently and to one who has no
experience of horses?—By no means.—Well then; can
you tell me to whom you entrust your gold or silver
things or your vestments? I don't entrust even these to
any one indifferently. Well; your own body, have you
already considered about entrusting the care of it to any
person?—Certainly.—To a man of experience, I suppose,
and one acquainted with the aliptic,88 or with the healing
art?—Without doubt.—Are these the best things that you
have, or do you also possess something else which is better
than all these?—What kind of a thing do you mean?—
That I mean which makes use of these things, and tests
each of them, and deliberates.—Is it the soul that you
mean?—You think right, for it is the soul that I mean.—
In truth I do think that the soul is a much better thing
than all the others which I possess.—Can you then show
us in what way you have taken care of the soul? for it is
not likely that you, who are so wise a man and have a
reputation in the city, inconsiderately and carelessly allow
the most valuable thing that you possess to be neglected
and to perish.—Certainly not.—But have you taken care
of the soul yourself; and have you learned from another
to do this, or have you discovered the means yourself?—
Here comes the danger that in the first place he may say,
What is this to you, my good man, who are you? Next, if
you persist in troubling him, there is danger that he may
raise his hands and give you blows. I was once myself
also an admirer of this mode of instruction until I fell into
these dangers.89
On anxiety (solicitude).
WHEN I see a man anxious, I say, What does this man
want? If he did not want some thing which is not in his
power, how could he be anxious? For this reason a lute
player when he is singing by himself has no anxiety, but
when he enters the theatre, he is anxious even if he has a
good voice and plays well on the lute; for he not only
wishes to sing well, but also to obtain applause: but this
is not in his power. Accordingly, where he has skill,
there he has confidence. Bring any single person who
knows nothing of music, and the musician does not care
for him. But in the matter where a man knows nothing
and has not been practised, there he is anxious. What
matter is this? He knows not what a crowd is or what
the praise of a crowd is. However he has learned to
strike the lowest chord and the highest;90 but what the
praise of the many is, and what power it has in life he
neither knows nor has he thought about it. Hence he
must of necessity tremble and grow pale. I cannot then
say that a man is not a lute player when I see him
afraid, but I can say something else, and not one thing,
but many. And first of all I call him a stranger and say,
This man does not know in what part of the world he is,
but though he has been here so long, he is ignorant of
the laws of the State and the customs, and what is permitted and what is not; and he has never employed any
lawyer to tell him and to explain the laws. But a man
does not write a will, if he does not know how it ought to
be written, or he employs a person who does know; nor
does he rashly seal a bond or write a security. But he
uses his desire without a lawyer's advice, and aversion,
and pursuit (movement), and attempt and purpose. How
do you mean without a lawyer? He does not know that
he wills what is not allowed, and does not will that which
is of necessity; and he does not know either what is his
own or what is another man's; but if he did know, he
would never be impeded, he would never be hindered, he
would not be anxious. How so?—Is any man then afraid
about things which are not evils?—No.—Is he afraid
about things which are evils, but still so far within his
power that they may not happen?—Certainly he is not.—
If then the things which are independent of the will are
neither good nor bad, and all things which do depend on
the will are within our power, and no man can either take
them from us or give them to us, if we do not choose,
where is room left for anxiety? But we are anxious about
our poor body, our little property, about the will of Caesar;
but not anxious about things internal. Are we anxious
about not forming a false opinion?—No, for this is in my
power.—About not exerting our movements contrary to
nature?—No, not even about this.—When then you
see a man pale, as the physician says, judging from the
complexion, this man's spleen is disordered, that man's
liver; so also say, this man's desire and aversion are disordered, he is not in the right way, he is in a fever. For
nothing else changes the colour, or causes trembling or
chattering of the teeth, or causes a man to
Sink in his knees and shift from foot to foot.—Iliad, xiii. 281.
For this reason when Zeno was going to meet Antigonus,91
he was not anxious, for Antigonus had no power over any
of the things which Zeno admired; and Zeno did not care
for those things over which Antigonus had power. But
Antigonus was anxious when he was going to meet Zeno,
for he wished to please Zeno; but this was a thing
external (out of his power). But Zeno did not want to
please Antigonus; for no man who is skilled in any art
wishes to please one who has no such skill.
Should I try to please you? Why? I suppose, you
know the measure by which one man is estimated by
another. Have you taken pains to learn what is a good
man and what is a bad man, and how a man becomes one
or the other? Why then are you not good yourself?
—How, he replies, am I not good?—Because no good man
laments or groans or weeps, no good man is pale and
trembles, or says, How will he receive me, how will he
listen to me?—Slave, just as it pleases him. Why do you
care about what belongs to others? Is it now his fault if
he receives badly what proceeds from you?—Certainly.—
And is it possible that a fault should be one man's, and
the evil in another?—No.—Why then are you anxious
about that which belongs to others?—Your question is
reasonable; but I am anxious how I shall speak to him.
Cannot you then speak to him as you choose?—But I fear
that I may be disconcerted?—If you are going to write the
name of Dion, are you afraid that you would be disconcerted?—By no means.—Why? is it not because you have
practised writing the name?—Certainly.—Well, if you
were going to read the name, would you not feel the
same? and why? Because every art has a certain
strength and confidence in the things which belong to it.
—Have you then not practised speaking? and what else did
you learn in the school? Syllogisms and sophistical propositions?92 For what purpose? was it not for the purpose
of discoursing skilfully? and is not discoursing skilfully
the same as discoursing seasonably and cautiously and
with intelligence, and also without making mistakes and
without hindrance, and besides all this with confidence?—
Yes.—When then you are mounted on a horse and go into
a plain, are you anxious at being matched against a man
who is on foot, and anxious in a matter in which you are
practised, and he is not?—Yes, but that person (to whom
I am going to speak) has power to kill me.93 Speak the
truth then, unhappy man, and do not brag, nor claim to
be a philosopher, nor refuse to acknowledge your masters,
but so long as you present this handle in your body,
follow every man who is stronger than yourself. So,
crates used to practise speaking, he who talked as he did to
the tyrants,95 to the dicasts (judges), he who talked in
his prison. Diogenes had practised speaking, he who
spoke as he did to Alexander, to the pirates, to the person
who bought him. These men were confident in the
things which they practised.96 But do you walk off to
your own affairs and never leave them: go and sit in a
corner, and weave syllogisms, and propose them to
another. There is not in you the man who can rule a
state.
To Naso.
WHEN a certain Roman entered with his son and listened
to one reading, Epictetus said, This is the method of instruction; and he stopped. When the Roman asked him
to go on, Epictetus said, Every art when it is taught
causes labour to him who is unacquainted with it and
is unskilled in it, and indeed the things which proceed
from the arts immediately show their use in the purpose
for which they were made; and most of them contain something attractive and pleasing. For indeed to be present
and to observe how a shoemaker learns is not a pleasant
thing; but the shoe is useful and also not disagreeable to
look at. And the discipline of a smith when he is learning
is very disagreeable to one who chances to be present and
is a stranger to the art: but the work shows the use of
the art. But you will see this much more in music; for
if you are present while a person is learning, the discipline will appear most disagreeable; and yet the results
of music are pleasing and delightful to those who know
nothing of music. And here we conceive the work of a
philosopher to be something of this kind: he must adapt
his wish (βούλησιν) to what is going on,97 so that neither
any of the things which are taking place shall take place
contrary to our wish, nor any of the things which do not
take place shall not take place when we wish that they
should. From this the result is to those who have so
arranged the work of philosophy, not to fail in the desire,
nor to fall in with that which they would avoid; without
uneasiness, without fear, without perturbation to pass
through life themselves, together with their associates
maintaining the relations both natural and acquired,98 as
the relation of son, of father, of brother, of citizen, of man,
of wife, of neighbour, of fellow traveller, of ruler, of ruled.
The work of a philosopher we conceive to be something
like this. It remains next to inquire how this must be
accomplished.
We see then that the carpenter (τέκτων) when he has
learned certain things becomes a carpenter; the pilot by
learning certain things becomes a pilot. May it not then in
philosophy also not be sufficient to wish to be wise and good,
and that there is also a necessity to learn certain things?
We inquire then what these things are. The philosophers
say that we ought first to learn that there is a God and
that he provides for all things; also that it is not possible
to conceal from him our acts, or even our intentions and
thoughts.99 The next thing is to learn what is the nature
of the Gods; for such as they are discovered to be, he, who
would please and obey them, must try with all his power
to be like them. If the divine is faithful, man also must
be faithful; if it is free, man also must be free; if beneficent, man also must be beneficent; if magnanimous, mall
also must be magnanimous; as being then an imitator of
God he must do and say every thing consistently with this
fact.
With what then must we begin? If you will enter on
the discussion, I will tell you that you must first under-
stand names100 (words).—So then you say that I do not
now understand names.—You do not understand them.—
How then do I use them?—Just as the illiterate use
written language, as cattle use appearances: for use is
one thing, understanding is another. But if you think
that you understand them, produce whatever word you
please, and let us try whether we understand it.—But it
is a disagreeable thing for a man to be confuted who is
now old, and, it may be, has now served his three campaigns.—I too know this: for now you are come to me as
if you were in want of nothing: and what could you even
imagine to be wanting to you? You are rich, you have
children and a wife perhaps, and many slaves: Caesar
knows you, in Rome you have many friends, you render
their dues to all, you know how to requite him who does
you a favour, and to repay in the same kind him who
does you a wrong. What do you lack? If then I shall shew
you that you lack the things most necessary and the chief
things for happiness, and that hitherto you have looked
after every thing rather than what you ought, and, to crown
all,101 that you neither know what God is nor what man is,
nor what is good nor what is bad; and as to what I have said
about your ignorance of other matters, that may perhaps be
endured, but if I say that you know nothing about yourself,
how is it possible that you should endure me and bear the
proof and stay here? It is not possible; but you immediately go off in bad humour. And yet what harm have
I done you? unless the mirror also injures the ugly man
because it shows him to himself such as he is; unless the
physician also is supposed to insult the sick man, when he
says to him, Man, do you think that you ail nothing?
But you have a fever: go without food to—day; drink
water. And no one says, what an insult! But if you
say to a man, Your desires are inflamed, your aversions
are low, your intentions are inconsistent, your pursuits
(movements) are not conformable to nature, your opinions
are rash and false, the man immediately goes away and
says, He has insulted me.
Our way of dealing is like that of a crowded assembly.102
Beasts are brought to be sold and oxen; and the greater
part of the men come to buy and sell, and there are some
few who come to look at the market and to inquire how
it is carried on, and why, and who fixes the meeting
and for what purpose. So it is here also in this assembly (of life): some like cattle trouble themselves about
nothing except their fodder. For to all of you who are
busy about possessions and lands and slaves and magisterial offices, these are nothing except fodder. But there
are a few who attend the assembly, men who love to
look on and consider what is the world, who governs it.
Has it no governor?103 And how is it possible that a city
or a family cannot continue to exist, not even the shortest
time without an administrator and guardian, and that so
great and beautiful a system should be administered with
such order and yet without a purpose and by chance?104
There is then an administrator. What kind of administrator and how does he govern? And who are we, who
were produced by him, and for what purpose? Have we
some connexion with him and some relation towards him,
or none? This is the way in which these few are affected,
and then they apply themselves only to this one thing, to
examine the meeting and then to go away. What then?
They are ridiculed by the many, as the spectators at the
fair are by the traders; and if the beasts had any understanding, they would ridicule those who admired anything
else than fodder.
To or against those who obstinately persist in what they have determined.
WHEN some persons have heard these words, that a man
ought to be constant (firm), and that [the will is naturally
free and not subject to compulsion, but that all other
things are subject to hindrance, to slavery, and are in the
power of others, they suppose that they ought without
deviation to abide by every thing which they have determined. But in the first place that which has been determined ought to be sound (true). I require tone (sinews)
in the body, but such as exists in a healthy body, in an
athletic body; but if it is plain to me that you have the
tone of a phrensied man and you boast of it, I shall say to
you, man, seek the physician: this is not tone, but atony
(deficiency in right tone). In a different way something
of the same kind is felt by those who listen to these discourses in a wrong manner; which was the case with one
of my companions who for no reason resolved to starve
himself to death.105 I heard of it when it was the third
day of his abstinence from food and I went to inquire what
had happened. I have resolved, he said.—But still tell me
what it was which induced you to resolve; for if you have
resolved rightly, we shall sit with you and assist you to
depart; but if you have made an unreasonable resolution,
change your mind.—We ought to keep to our determinations.
—What are you doing, man? We ought to keep not to all
our determinations, but to those which are right; for if
you are now persuaded that it is night, do not change your
mind, if you think fit, but persist and say, we ought to
abide by our determinations. Will you not make the
beginning and lay the foundation in an inquiry whether
the determination is sound or not sound, and so then build
on it firmness and security? But if you lay a rotten and
ruinous foundation, will not your miserable little building
fall down the sooner, the more and the stronger are the
materials which you shall lay on it? Without any reason
would you withdraw from us out of life a man who is a
friend, and a companion, a citizen of the same city, both
the great and the small city?106 Then while you are committing murder and destroying a man who has done no
wrong, do you say that you ought to abide by your determinations? And if it ever in any way came into your
head to kill me, ought you to abide by your determinations?
Now this man was with difficulty persuaded to change
his mind. But it is impossible to convince some persons
at present; so that I seem now to know, what I did not
know before, the meaning of the common saying, That
you can neither persuade nor break a fool.107 May it
never be my lot to have a wise fool for my friend: nothing
is more untractable, 'I am determined,' the man says.
Madmen are also; but the more firmly they form a judgment on things which do not exist,
the more ellebore108
they require. Will you not act like a sick man and call in
the physician?—I am sick, master, help me; consider
what I must do: it is my duty to obey you. So it is here
also: I know not what I ought to do, but I am come to
learn.—Not so; but speak to me about other things: upon
this I have determined.—What other things? for what is
greater and more useful than for you to be persuaded that
it is not sufficient to have made your determination and
not to change it. This is the tone (energy) of madness,
not of health.—I will die, if you compel me to this.—Why,
man? What has happened?—I have determined—I have
had a lucky escape that you have not determined to kill
me—I take no money.109 Why?—I have determined—Be
assured that with the very tone (energy) which you now
use in refusing to take, there is nothing to hinder you at
some time from inclining without reason to take money and
then saying, I have determined. As in a distempered
body, subject to defluxions, the humour inclines sometimes
to these parts, and then to those, so too a sickly soul knows
not which way to incline: but if to this inclination and
movement there is added a tone (obstinate resolution),
then the evil becomes past help and cure.
That we do not strive to use our opinions about good and evil.
WHERE is the good? In the will.110 Where is the evil?
In the will. Where is neither of them? In those things
which are independent of the will. Well then? Does
any one among us think of these lessons out of the schools?
Does any one meditate (strive) by himself to give an
answer to things111 as in the case of questions? Is it
day?—Yes.—Is it night?—No.—Well, is the number of
stars even?112—I cannot say.—When money is shown
(offered) to you, have you studied to make the proper
answer, that money is not a good thing? Have you practised yourself in these answers, or only against sophisms?
Why do you wonder then if in the cases which you have
studied, in those you have improved; but in those which you
have not studied, in those you remain the same? When the
rhetorician knows that he has written well, that he has
committed to memory what he has written, and brings an
agreeable voice, why is he still anxious? Because he is
not satisfied with having studied. What then does he
want? To be praised by the audience? For the purpose
then of being able to practise declamation he has been
disciplined; but with respect to praise and blame he has
not been disciplined. For when did he hear from any one
what praise is, what blame is, what the nature of each is,
what kind of praise should be sought, or what kind of
blame should be shunned? And when did he practise this
discipline which follows these words (things)?113 Why
then do you still wonder, if in the matters which a man
has learned, there he surpasses others, and in those in
which he has not been disciplined, there he is the same
with the many. So the lute player knows how to play,
sings well, and has a fine dress, and yet he trembles when
he enters on the stage; for these matters he understands,
but he does not know what a crowd is, nor the shouts of a
crowd, nor what ridicule is. Neither does he know what
anxiety is, whether it is our work or the work of another,
whether it is possible to stop it or not. For this reason if
he has been praised, he leaves the theatre puffed up, but if
he has been ridiculed, the swollen bladder has been punctured and subsides.
This is the case also with ourselves. What do we
admire? Externals. About what things are we busy?
Externals. And have we any doubt then why we fear or
why we are anxious? What then happens when we think
the things, which are coming on us, to be evils? It is not
in our power not to be afraid, it is not in our power not to
be anxious. Then we say, Lord God, how shall I not be
anxious? Fool, have you not hands, did not God make
them for you? Sit down now and pray that your nose may
not run.114 Wipe yourself rather and do not blame him. Well
then, has he given to you nothing in the present case?
Has he not given to you endurance? has he not given to
you magnanimity? has he not given to you manliness?
When you have such hands, do you still look for one who
shall wipe your nose? But we neither study these things
nor care for them. Give me a man who cares how he
shall do any thing, not for the obtaining of a thing, but
who cares about his own energy. What man, when he is
walking about, cares for his own energy? who, when he
is deliberating, cares about his own deliberation, and not
about obtaining that about which he deliberates? And
if he succeeds, he is elated and says, How well we have
deliberated; did I not tell you, brother, that it is impossible, when we have thought about any thing, that it
should not turn out thus? But if the thing should turn
out otherwise, the wretched man is humbled; he knows
not even what to say about what has taken place. Who
among us for the sake of this matter has consulted a
seer? Who among us as to his actions has not slept in in-
difference?115 Who? Give (name) tome one that I may see
the man whom I have long been looking for, who is truly
noble and ingenuous, whether young or old; name him.116
Why then are we still surprised, if we are well practised in thinking about matters (any given subject), but
in our acts are low, without decency, worthless, cowardly,
impatient of labour, altogether bad? For we do not care
about these things nor do we study them. But if we had
feared not death or banishment, but fear itself,117 we should
have studied not to fall into those things which appear to
us evils. Now in the school we are irritable and wordy;
and if any little question arises about any of these things,
we are able to examine them fully. But drag us to practice, and you will find us miserably shipwrecked. Let
some disturbing appearance come on us, and you will
know what we have been studying and in what we have
been exercising ourselves. Consequently through want of
discipline we are always adding something to the appearance and representing things to be greater than what they
are. For instance as to myself, when I am on a voyage
and look down on the deep sea, or look round on it and
see no land, I am out of my mind and imagine that I must
drink up all this water if I am wrecked, and it does not
occur to me that three pints are enough. What then
disturbs me? The sea? No, but my opinion. Again,
when an earthquake shall happen, I imagine that the city
is going to fall on me; but is not one little stone enough
to knock my brains out?
What then are the things which are heavy on us and
disturb us? What else than opinions? What else then
opinions lies heavy upon him who goes away and leaves
his companions and friends and places and habits of life?
Now little children, for instance, when they cry on the
nurse leaving them for a short time, forget their sorrow if
they receive a small cake. Do you choose then that we
should compare you to little children?—No, by Zeus, for
I do not wish to be pacified by a small cake, but by right
opinions.—And what are these? Such as a man ought to
study all day, and not to be affected by any thing that is
not his own, neither by companion nor place nor gym-
nasia, and not even by his own body, but to remember the
law and to have it before his eyes. And what is the
divine law? To keep a man's own, not to claim that
which belongs to others, but to use what is given, and
when it is not given, not to desire it; and when a thing
is taken away, to give it up readily and immediately, and
to be thankful for the time that a man has had the use of
it, if you would not cry for your nurse and mamma. For
what matter does it make by what thing a man is subdued, and on what he depends? In what respect are you
better than he who cries for a girl, if you grieve for a
little gymnasium, and little porticoes and young men and
such places of amusement? Another comes and laments
that he shall no longer drink the water of Dirce. Is the
Marcian water worse than that of Dirce? But I was used
to the water of Dirce.118 And you in turn will be used to
the other. Then if you become attached to this also, cry
for this too, and try to make a verse like the verse of
Euripides,
The hot baths of Nero and the Marcian water.
See how tragedy is made when common things happen
to silly men.
When then shall I see Athens again and the Acropolis?
Wretch, are you not content with what you see daily?
have you any thing better or greater to see than the sun,
the moon, the stars, the whole earth, the sea? But if
indeed you comprehend him who administers the Whole,
and carry him about in yourself, do you still desire small
stones, and a beautiful rock?119 When then you are going
to leave the sun itself and the moon, what will you do?
will you sit and weep like children? Well, what have
you been doing in the school? what did you hear, what
did you learn? why did you write yourself a philosopher,
when you might have written the truth; as, “I made
certain introductions,120 and I read Chrysippus, but I did
not even approach the door of a philosopher.” For how
should I121 possess any thing of the kind which Socrates
possessed, who died as he did, who lived as he did, or any
thing such as Diogenes possessed? Do you think that
any one of such men wept or grieved, because he was not
going to see a certain man, or a certain woman, nor to be
in Athens or in Corinth, but, if it should so happen, in
Susa or in Ecbatana? For if a man can quit the banquet
when he chooses, and no longer amuse himself, does he
still stay and complain, and does he not stay, as at any
amusement, only so long as he is pleased? Such a man, I
suppose, would endure perpetual exile or to be condemned
to death. Will you not be weaned now, like children, and
take more solid food, and not cry after mammas and
nurses, which are the lamentations of old women?—But if
I go away, I shall cause them sorrow.—You cause them
sorrow? By no means; but that will cause them sorrow
which also causes you sorrow, opinion. What have you
to do then? Take away your own opinion, and if these
women are wise, they will take away their own: if they
do not, they will lament through their own fault.
My man, as the proverb says, make a desperate effort on
behalf of tranquillity of mind, freedom and magnanimity.
Lift up your head at last as released from slavery. Dare
to look up to God and say, Deal with me for the future as
thou wilt; I am of the same mind as thou art; I am
thine:122 I refuse nothing that pleases thee: lead me where
thou wilt: clothe me in any dress thou choosest: is it
thy will that I should hold the office of a magistrate, that
I should be in the condition of a private man, stay here
or be an exile, be poor, be rich? I will make thy defence
to men in behalf of all these conditions:123 I will shew
the nature of each thing what it is.—You will not do so;
but sit in an ox's belly124 and wait for your mamma till she
shall feed you. Who would Hercules have been, if he
had sat at home? He would have been Eurystheus and
not Hercules. Well, and in his travels through the world
how many intimates and how many friends had he? But
nothing more dear to him than God. For this reason it
was believed that he was the son of God, and he was. In
obedience to God then he went about purging away injustice and lawlessness. But you are not Hercules and
you are not able to purge away the wickedness of others;
nor yet are you Theseus, able to purge away the evil
things of Attica Clear away your own. From yourself,
from your thoughts cast away instead of Procrustes and
Sciron,125 sadness, fear, desire, envy, malevolence, avarice,
effeminacy, intemperance. But it is not possible to eject
these things otherwise than by looking to God only, by
fixing your affections on him only, by being consecrated
to his commands. But if you choose any thing else, you
will with sighs and groans be compelled to follow126 what
is stronger than yourself, always seeking tranquillity and
never able to find it; for you seek tranquillity there
where it is not, and you neglect to seek it where it is.
How we must adapt preconceptions to particular cases.
WHAT is the first business of him who philosophizes? To
throw away self-conceit (οἴησις).127 For it is impossible for
a man to begin to learn that which he thinks that he
knows. As to things then which ought to be done and
ought not to be done, and good and bad, and beautiful
and ugly, all of us talking of them at random go to the
philosophers; and on these matters we praise, we censure,
we accuse, we blame, we judge and determine about principles honourable and dishonourable. But why do we go
to the philosophers? Because we wish to learn what we do
not think that we know. And what is this? Theorems.128
For we wish to learn what philosophers say as being
something elegant and acute; and some wish to learn that
they may get profit from what they learn. It is ridiculous
then to think that a person wishes to learn one thing, and
will learn another; or further, that a man will make proficiency in that which he does not learn. But the many
are deceived by this which deceived also the rhetorician
Theopompus,129 when he blames even Plato for wishing
everything to be defined. For what does he say? Did
none of us before you use the words Good or Just, or do
we utter the sounds in an unmeaning and empty way
without understanding what they severally signify? Now
who tells you, Theopompus, that we had not natural
notions of each of these things and preconceptions (προλήψεις)? But it is not possible to adapt preconceptions
to their correspondent objects if we have not distinguished
(analyzed) them, and inquired what object must be subjected to each preconception. You may make the same
charge against physicians also. For who among us did
not use the words healthy and unhealthy before Hippocrates lived, or did we utter these words as empty sounds?
For we have also a certain preconception of health,130 but
we are not able to adapt it. For this reason one says,
abstain from food; another says, give food; another
says, bleed; and another says, use cupping. What is the
reason? is it any other than that a man cannot properly
adapt the preconception of health to particulars?
So it is in this matter also, in the things which concern
life. Who among us does not speak of good and bad, of
useful and not useful; for who among us has not a preconception of each of these things? Is it then a distinct
and perfect preconception? Show this. How shall I show
this? Adapt the preconception properly to the particular
things. Plato, for instance, subjects definitions to the
preconception of the useful, but you to the preconception
of the useless. Is it possible then that both of you are
right? How is it possible? Does not one man adapt
the preconception of good to the matter of wealth, and
another not to wealth, but to the matter of pleasure and to
that of health? For, generally, if all of us who use those
words know sufficiently each of them, and need no diligence in resolving (making distinct) the notions of the
preconceptions, why do we differ, why do we quarrel, why
do we blame one another?
And why do I now allege this contention with one another and speak of it? If you yourself properly adapt your
preconceptions, why are you unhappy, why are you hindered? Let us omit at present the second topic about the
pursuits (ὅρμας) and the study of the duties which relate to
them. Let us omit also the third topic, which relates to the
assents (συγκαταθέσεις): I give up to you these two topics.
Let us insist upon the first, which presents an almost
obvious demonstration that we do not properly adapt the
preconoeptions.131 Do you now desire that which is possible
and that which is possible to you? Why then are you
hindered? why are you unhappy? Do you not now try
to avoid the unavoidable? Why then do you fall in with
any thing which you would avoid? Why are you unfortunate? Why, when you desire a thing, does it not happen,
and, when you do not desire it, does it happen? For this
is the greatest proof of unhappiness and misery: I wish
for something, and it does not happen. And what is more
wretched than I?132
It was because she could not endure this that Medea
came to murder her children: an act of a noble spirit in
this view at least, for she had a just opinion what it is
for a thing not to succeed which a person wishes. Then
she says, 'Thus I shall be avenged on him (my husband)
who has wronged and insulted me; and what shall I gain
if he is punished thus? how then shall it be don? I
shall kill my children, but I shall punish myself also:
and what do I care?133 This is the aberration of soul
which possesses great energy. For she did not know
wherein lies the doing of that which we wish; that you
cannot get this from without, nor yet by the alteration
and new adaptation of things. Do not desire the man
(Jason, Medea's husband), and nothing which you desire
will fail to happen: do not obstinately desire that he
shall live with you: do not desire to remain in Gerinth;
and in a word desire nothing than that which God wills.—
And who shall hinder you? who shall compel you? No
man shall compel you any more than he shall compel Zeus.
When you have such a guide134 and your wishes and
desires are the same as his, why do you still fear disappointment? Give up your desire to wealth and your
aversion to poverty, and you will be disappointed in the
one, you will fall into the other. Well give them up
to health, and you will be unfortunate: give them up to
magistracies, honours, country, friends, children, in a word
to any of the things which are not in man's power (and
you will be unfortunate). But give them up to Zeus
and to the rest of the gods; surrender them to the gods,
let the gods govern, let your desire and aversion be ranged
on the side of the gods, and wherein will you be any
longer unhappy?135 But if, lazy wretch, you envy, and
complain, and are jealous, and fear, and never cease for
a single day complaining both of yourself and of the gods,
why do you still speak of being educated? What kind
of an education, man? Do you mean that you have been
employed about sophistical syllogisms (συλλογισμοὺς μεταπίπτοντας)?136 Will you not, if it is possible, unlearn all
these things and begin from the beginning, and see at
the same time that hitherto you have not even touched the
matter; and then commencing from this foundation, will
you not build up all that comes after, so that nothing may
happen which you do not choose, and nothing shall fail
to happen which you do choose?
Give me one young man who has come to the school
with this intention, who is become a champion for this
matter and says, 'I give up every thing else, and it is
enough for me if it shall ever be in my power to pass my
life free from hindrance and free from trouble, and to stretch
out (present) my neck to all things like a free man, and
to look up to heaven as a friend of God and fear nothing
that can happen.' Let any of you point out such a man
that I may say, 'Come, young man, into the possession
of that which is your own, for it is your destiny to adorn
philosophy: yours are these possessions, yours these books,
yours these discourses.' Then when he shall have laboured sufficiently and exercised himself in this part of
the matter (τόπον), let him come to me again and say,
'I desire to be free from passion and free from perturbation; and I wish as a pious man and a philosopher and
a diligent person to know what is my duty to the gods,
what to my parents, what to my brothers, what to my
country, what to strangers.' (I say) 'Come also to the
second matter (τόπον): this also is yours.'—'But I have
now sufficiently studied the second part (τόπον) also, and
I would gladly be secure and unshaken, and not only when
I am awake, but also when I am asleep, and when I am
filled with wine, and when I am melancholy.' Man, you
are a god, you have great designs.
No: but I wish to understand what Chrysippus says in
his treatise of the Pseudomenos137 (the Liar).—Will you
not hang yourself, wretch, with such your intention? And
what good will it do you? You will read the whole with
sorrow, and you will speak to others trembling. Thus
you also do. “Do you wish me,138 brother, to read to
you, and you to me”?—You write excellently, my man;
and you also excellently in the style of Xenophon, and you
in the style of Plato, and you in the style of Antisthenes
Then having told your dreams to one another you return
to the same things: your desires are the same, your
aversions the same, your pursuits are the same, and your
designs and purposes, you wish for the same things and
work for the same. In the next place you do not even
seek for one to give you advice, but you are vexed if you
hear such things (as I say). Then you say, “An ill-na-
tured old fellow: when I was going away, he did not
weep nor did he say, Into what danger you are going: if
you come off safe, my child, I will burn lights.139 This is
what a good natured man would do.” It will be a great
thing for you if you do return safe, and it will be worth
while to burn lights for such a person: for you ought to
be immortal and exempt from disease.
Casting away then, as I say, this conceit of thinking
that we know something useful, we must come to philosophy as we apply to geometry, and to music: but if we
do not, we shall not even approach to proficiency though
we read all the collections140 and commentaries of Chrysippus and those of Antipater and Archedemus.141
How we should struggle against appearances.
EVERY habit and faculty142 is maintained and increased by
the corresponding actions: the habit of walking by walking, the habit of running by running. If you would be a
good reader, read; if a writer, write. But when you shall
not have read for thirty days in succession, but have done
something else, you will know the consequence. In the
same way, if you shall have lain down ten days, get up
and attempt to make a long walk, and you will see how
your legs are weakened. Generally then if you would
make any thing a habit, do it; if you would not make it
a habit, do not do it, but accustom yourself to do something
else in place of it.
So it is with respect to the affections of the soul: when
you have been angry, you must know that not only has
this evil befallen you, but that you have also increased the
habit, and in a manner thrown fuel upon fire. When you
have been overcome in sexual intercourse with a person,
do not reckon this single defeat only, but reckon that you
have also nurtured, increased your incontinence. For it
is impossible for habits and faculties, some of them not to
be produced, when they did not exist before, and others
not be increased and strengthened by corresponding acts.
In this manner certainly, as philosophers say, also diseases of the mind grow up.143 For when you have once
desired money, if reason be applied to lead to a perception of the evil, the desire is stopped, and the ruling
faculty of our mind is restored to the original authority.
But if you apply no means of cure, it no longer returns to
the same state, but being again excited by the corresponding appearance, it is inflamed to desire quicker than before: and when this takes place continually, it is henceforth hardened (made callous), and the disease of the mind
confirms the love of money. For he who has had a fever,
and has been relieved from it, is not in the same state
that he was before, unless he has been completely cured.
Something of the kind happens also in diseases of the soul.
Certain traces and blisters are left in it, and unless a man
shall completely efface them, when he is again lashed on
the same places, the lash will produce not blisters (weals)
but sores. If then you wish not to be of an angry temper,
do not feed the habit: throw nothing on it which will
increase it: at first keep quiet, and count the days on
which you have not been angry. I used to be in passion
every day; now every second day; then every third, then
every fourth. But if you have intermitted thirty days,
make a sacrifice to God. For the habit at first begins to
be weakened, and then is completely destroyed. “I have
not been vexed to—day, nor the day after, nor yet on any
succeeding day during two or three months; but I took
care when some exciting things happened.” Be assured
that you are in a good way.144 To—day when I saw a
handsome person, I did not say to myself, I wish I could
lie with her, and Happy is her husband; for he who says
this says, Happy is her adulterer also. Nor do I picture
the rest to my mind; the woman present, and stripping
herself and lying down by my side. I stroke my head
and say, Well done, Epictetus, you have solved a fine little
sophism, much finer than that which is called the master
sophism. And if even the woman is willing, and gives
signs, and sends messages, and if she also fondle me and
come close to me, and I should abstain and be victorious,
that would be a sophism beyond that which is named the
Liar, and the Quiescent.145 Over such a victory as this a
man may justly be proud; not for proposing the master
sophism.
How then shall this be done? Be willing at length to
be approved by yourself, be willing to appear beautiful
to God, desire to be in purity with your own pure self
and with God. Then when any such appearance visits
you, Plato says,146 Have recourse to expiations, go a suppliant to the temples of the averting deities. It is even
sufficient if you resort to the society of noble and just
men, and compare yourself with them, whether you find
one who is living or dead. Go to Socrates and see him
lying down with Alcibiades, and mocking his beauty:
consider what a victory he at last found that he had
gained over himself; what an Olympian victory; in what
number he stood from Hercules;147 so that, by the Gods,
one may justly salute him, Hail, wondrous man, you who
have conquered not these sorry boxers148 and pancratiasts,
nor yet those who are like them, the gladiators. By
placing these objects on the other side you will conquer the
appearance: you will not be drawn away by it. But in
the first place be not hurried away by the rapidity of the
appearance, but say, Appearances, wait for me a little: let
me see who you are, and what you are about:149 let me put
you to the test. And then do not allow the appearance to
lead you on and draw lively pictures of the things which
will follow; for if you do, it will carry you off wherever
it pleases. But rather bring in to oppose it some other
beautiful and noble appearance and cast out this base
appearance. And if you are accustomed to be exercised
in this way, you will see what shoulders, what sinews,
what strength you have. But now it is only trifling
words, and nothing more.
This is the true athlete, the man who exercises himself
against such appearances. Stay, wretch, do not be carried
way. Great is the combat, divine is the work; it is for
kingship, for freedom, for happiness, for freedom from
perturbation. Remember God: call on him as a helper
and protector, as men at sea call on the Dioscur150 in a
storm. For what is a greater storm than that which
comes from appearances which are violent and drive away
the reason?151 For the storm itself, what else is it but an
appearance? For take away the fear of death, and suppose
as many thunders and lightnings as you please, and you
will know what calm152 and serenity there is in the ruling
faculty. But if you have once been defeated and say that
you will conquer hereafter, and then say the same again,
be assured that you will at last be in so wretched a
condition and so weak that you will not even know
afterwards that you are doing wrong, but you will even
begin to make apologies (defences) for your wrong doing,
and then you will confirm the saying of Hesiod153 to be
true,
With constant ills the dilatory strives.
Against those who embrace philosophical opinions only in words.
154
THE argument called the ruling argument (ὁ κυριεύων λόγος)155 appears to have been proposed from such principles as these: there is in fact a common contradiction
between one another in these three propositions, each two
being in contradiction to the third. The propositions are,
that every thing past must of necessity be true; that an
impossibility does not follow a possibility; and that a thing
is possible which neither is nor will be true. Diodorus156
observing this contradiction employed the probative force
of the first two for the demonstration of this proposition,
That nothing is possible which is not tine and never will
be. Now another will hold these two: That something is
possible. which is neither true nor ever will be: and That
an impossibility does not follow a possibility. But he
will not allow that every thing which is past is necessarily
true, as the followers of Cleanthes seem to think, and
Antipater copiously defended them. But others maintain
the other two propositions, That a thing is possible which
is neither true nor will be true: and That everything
which is past is necessarily true; but then they will
maintain that an impossibility can follow a possibility.
But it is impossible to maintain these three propositions,
because of their common contradiction.157
If then any man should ask me, which of these propositions do you maintain? I will answer him, that I do
not know; but I have received this story, that Diodorus
maintained one opinion, the followers of Panthoides, I
think, and Cleanthes maintained another opinion, and
those of Chrysippus a third. What then is your opinion?
I was not made for this purpose, to examine the appearances that occur to me, and to compare what others say
and to form an opinion of my own on the thing. Therefore
I differ not at all from the grammarian. Who was Hector's
father? Priam. Who were his brothers? Alexander and
Deiphobus. Who was their mother? Hecuba.—I have
heard this story. From whom? From Homer. And Hellanicus also, I think, writes about the same things, and
perhaps others like him. And what further have I about
the ruling argument? Nothing. But, if I am a vain
man, especially at a banquet I surprise the guests by
enumerating those who have written on these matters.
Both Chrysippus has written wonderfully in his first book
about Possibilities, and Cleanthes has written specially on
the subject, and Archedemus. Antipater also has written
not only in his work about Possibilities, but also separately
in his work on the ruling argument. Have you not read
the work? I have not read it. Read. And what profit
will 'a man have from it? he will be more trifling and
impertinent than he is now; for what else have you
gained by reading it? What opinion have you formed on
this subject? none; but you will tell us of Helen and
Priam, and the island of Calypso which never was and
never will be. And in this matter indeed it is of no great
importance if you retain the story, but have formed no
opinion of your own. But in matters of morality (Ethic)
this happens to us much more than in these things of
which we are speaking.
Speak to me about good and evil. Listen:
The wind from Ilium to Ciconian shores
Brought me.158—Odyssey, ix. 39.
Of things some are good, some are bad, and others are
indifferent. The good then are the virtues and the things
which partake of the virtues: the bad are the vices, and
the things which partake of them; and the indifferent are
the things which lie between the virtues and the vices,
wealth, health, life, death, pleasure, pain. Whence do you
know this? Hellanicus says it in his Egyptian history;
for what difference does it make to say this, or to say that
Diogenes has it in his Ethic, or Chrysippus or Cleanthes?
Have you then examined any of these things and formed
an opinion of your own? Show how you are used to
behave in a storm on shipboard? Do you remember this
division (distinction of things), when the sail rattles and
a man, who knows nothing of times and seasons, stands by
you when you are screaming and says, Tell me, I ask you
by the Gods, what you were saying just now, Is it a vice
to suffer shipwreck: does it participate in vice? Will you
not take up a stick and lay it on his head? What have
we to do with you, man? we are perishing and you come
to mock us? But if Caesar send for you to answer a
charge, do you remember the distinction? If when you
are going in pale and trembling, a person should come up
to you and say, Why do you tremble, man? what is the
matter about which you are engaged? Does Caesar who
sits within give virtue and vice to those who go in to
him? You reply, Why do you also mock me and add
to my present sorrows?—Still tell me, philosopher, tell
me why you tremble? Is it not death of which you run
the risk, or a prison, or pain of the body, or banishment,
or disgrace? What else is there? Is there any vice or
anything which partakes of vice? What then did you
use to say of these things?—'What have you to do with
me, man? my own evils are enough for me.' And you
say right. Your own evils are enough for you, your
baseness, your cowardice, your boasting which you showed
when you sat in the school. Why did you decorate yourself
with what belonged to others? Why did you call yourself
a Stoic?
Observe yourselves thus in your actions, and you will
find to what sect you belong. You will find that most of
you are Epicureans, a few Peripatetics,159 and those feeble.
For wherein will you show that you really consider virtue
equal to everything else or even superior? But show me
a Stoic, if you can. Where or how? But you can show
me an endless number who utter small arguments of the
Stoics. For do the same persons repeat the Epicurean
opinions any worse? And the Peripatetic, do they not
handle them also with equal accuracy? who then is a
Stoic? As we call a statue Phidiac, which is fashioned
according to the art of Phidias; so show me a man who
is fashioned according to the doctrines which he utters.
Show me a man who is sick and happy, in danger and
happy, dying and happy, in exile and happy, in disgrace
and happy. Show him: I desire, by the gods, to see a
Stoic. You cannot show me one fashioned so; but show
me at least one who is forming, who has shown a tendency to be a Stoic. Do me this favour: do not grudge
an old man seeing a sight which I have not seen yet. Do
you think that you must show me the Zeus of Phidias or
the Athena, a work of ivory and gold?160 Let any of you
show me a human soul ready to think as God does, and
not to blame161 either God or man, ready not to be disappointed about any thing, not to consider himself damaged
by any thing, not to be angry, not to be envious, not to
be jealous; and why should I not say it direct? desirous
from a man to become a god, and in this poor mortal body
thinking of his fellowship with Zeus.162 Show me the man.
But you cannot. Why then do you delude yourselves and
cheat others? and why do you put on a guise which
does not belong to you, and walk about being thieves and
pilferers of these names and things which do not belong
to you?
And now I am your teacher, and you are instructed in
my school. And I have this purpose, to make you free
from restraint, compulsion, hindrance, to make you free,
prosperous, happy, looking to God in everything small
and great. And you are here to learn and practise these
things. Why then do you not finish the work, if you also
have such a purpose as you ought to have, and if I in addition to the purpose also have such qualification as I ought
to have? What is that which is wanting? When I see
an artificer and material lying by him, I expect the work.
Here then is the artificer, here the material; what is it
that we want? Is not the thing one that can be taught?
It is. Is it not then in our power? The only thing of all
that is in our power. Neither wealth is in our power, nor
health, nor reputation, nor in a word any thing else except
the right use of appearances. This (right use) is by nature
free from restraint, this alone is free from impediment.
Why then do you not finish the work? Tell me the reason.
For it is either through my fault that you do not finish it,
or through your own fault, or through the nature of the
thing. The thing itself is possible, and the only thing
in our power. It remains then that the fault is either in
me or in you, or, what is nearer the truth, in both. Well
then, are you willing that we begin at last to bring such
a purpose into this school, and to take no notice of the
past? Let us only make a beginning. Trust to me, and
you will see.
Against the Epicureans and Academics.
THE propositions which are true and evident are of necessity used even by those who contradict them: and a man
might perhaps consider it to be the greatest proof of a
thing being evident that it is found to be necessary even
for him who denies it to make use of it at the same time.
For instance, if a man should deny that there is anything
universally true, it is plain that he must make the contradictory negation, that nothing is universally true. What,
wretch, do you not admit even this? For what else is
this than to affirm that whatever is universally affirmed
is false? Again if a man should come forward and say:
Know that there is nothing that can be known,163 but all
things are incapable of sure evidence; or if another say,
Believe me and you will be the better for it, that a man
ought not to believe any thing; or again, if another should
say, Learn from me, man, that it is not possible to learn
any thing; I tell you this and will teach you, if you choose.
Now in what respect do these differ from those? Whom
shall I name? Those who call themselves Academics?
'Men, agree [with us] that no man agrees [with another]:
believe us that no man believes anybody.'
Thus Epicurus164 also, when he designs to destroy the
natural fellowship of mankind, at the same time makes use
of that which he destroys. For what does he say? 'Be
not deceived, men, nor be led astray, nor be mistaken:
there is no natural fellowship among rational animals;
believe me. But those who say otherwise, deceive you
and seduce you by false reasons.'—What is this to you?
Permit us to be deceived. Will you fare worse, if all the
rest of us are persuaded that there is a natural fellowship
among us, and that it ought by all means to be preserved?
Nay, it will be much better and safer for you. Man, why do
you trouble yourself about us? Why do you keep awake
for us? Why do you light your lamp? Why do you rise
early? Why do you write so many books, that no one of
us may be deceived about the gods and believe that they
take care of men; or that no one may suppose the nature
of good to be other than pleasure? For if this is so, lie
down and sleep, and lead the life of a worm, of which you
judged yourself worthy: eat and drink, and enjoy women,
and ease yourself, and snore.165 And what is it to you, how
the rest shall think about these things, whether right or
wrong? For what have we to do with you? You take
care of sheep because they supply us with wool and milk,
and last of all with their flesh. Would it not be a desirable
thing if men could be lulled and enchanted by the Stoics,
and sleep and present themselves to you and to those like
you to be shorn and milked? For this you ought to say to
your brother Epicureans: but ought you not to conceal it
from others, and particularly before every thing to persuade
them, that we are by nature adapted for fellowship, that
temperance is a good thing; in order that all things may
be secured for you?166 Or ought we to maintain this fellowship with some and not with others? With whom then
ought we to maintain it? With such as on their part also
maintain it, or with such as violate this fellowship? And
who violate it more than you who establish such doctrines?
What then was it that waked Epicurus from his sleepiness, and compelled him to write what he did write?
What else was it than that which is the strongest thing
in men, nature, which draws a man to her own will though
he be unwilling and complaining? For since, she says,
you think that there is no community among mankind,
write this opinion and leave it for others, and break your
sleep to do this, and by your own practice condemn your own
opinions. Shall we then say that Orestes was agitated by
the Erinyes (Furies) and roused from his deep sleep, and
did not more savage Erinyes and Pains rouse Epicurus
from his sleep and not allow him to rest, but compelled
him to make known his own evils, as madness and wine
did the Galli (the priests of Cybele)? So strong and invincible is man's nature, For how can a vine be moved
not in the manner of a vine, but in the manner of an
olive tree? or on the other hand how can an olive tree be
moved not in the manner of an olive tree, but in the
manner of a vine? It is impossible: it cannot be conceived. Neither then is it possible for a man completely
to lose the movements (affects) of a man; and even those
who are deprived of their genital members are not able to
deprive themselves of man's desires.167 Thus Epicurus also
mutilated all the offices of a man, and of a father of a
family, and of a citizen and of a friend, but he did not
mutilate human desires, for he could not; not more than
the lazy Academics can cast away or blind their own
senses, though they have tried with all their might to do
it. What a shame is this? when a man has received from
nature measures and rules for the knowing of truth, and
does not strive to add to these measures and rules and to
improve168 them, but just the contrary, endeavours to take
away and destroy whatever enables us to discern the
truth?
What say you philosopher? piety and sanctity, what do
you think that they are? If you like, I will demonstrate
that they are good things. Well, demonstrate it that our
citizens may be turned and honour the deity and may no
longer be negligent about things of the highest value.
Have you then the demonstrations?—I have, and I am
thankful.—Since then you are well pleased with them, hear
the contrary: That there are no Gods, and, if there are, they
take no care of men, nor is there any fellowship between
us and them; and that this piety and sanctity which is
talked of among most men is the lying of boasters and
sophists, or certainly of legislators for the purpose of
terrifying and checking wrong doers.169—Well done, philosopher, you have done something for our citizens, you have
brought back all the young men to contempt of things
divine.—What then, does not this satisfy you? Learn
now, that justice is nothing, that modesty is folly, that a
father is nothing, a son nothing.—Well done, philosopher,
persist, persuade the young men, that we may have more
with the same opinions as you and who say the same as
you. From such principles as these have grown our well
constituted states; by these was Sparta founded: Lycurgus
fixed these opinions in the Spartans by his laws and education, that neither is the servile condition more base than
honourable, nor the condition of free men more honourable
than base, and that those who died at Thermopylae170 died
from these opinions; and through what other opinions did
the Athenians leave their city?171 Then those who talk
thus, marry and beget children, and employ themselves
in public affairs and make themselves priests and interpreters. Of whom? of gods who do not exist: and they
consult the Pythian priestess that they may hear lies, and
they report the oracles to others. Monstrous impudence
and imposture.
Man what are you doing?172 are you refuting yourself
every day; and will you not give up these frigid attempts?
When you eat, where do you carry your hand to? to your
mouth or to your eye? when you wash yourself, what do
you go into? do you ever call a pot a dish, or a ladle a
spit? If I were a slave of any of these men, even if I
must be flayed by him daily, I would rack him. If he
said, 'Boy, throw some olive oil into the bath,' I would
take pickle sauce and pour it down on his head. What is
this? he would say—An appearance was presented to me, I
swear by your genius, which could not be distinguished
from oil and was exactly like it—Here give me the barley-
drink (tisane), he says—I would fill and carry him a dish
of sharp sauce—Did I not ask for the barley drink? Yes,
mister: this is the barley drink? Take it and smell;
take it and taste. How do you know then if our senses
deceive us?—If I had three or four fellow—slaves of the
same opinion, I should force him to hang himself through
passion or to change his mind. But now they mock us by
using all the things which nature gives, and in words
destroying them.
Grateful indeed are men and modest, who, if they do
nothing else, are daily eating bread and yet are shameless
enough to say, we do not know if there is a Demeter or her
daughter Persephone or a Pluto;173 not to mention that
they are enjoying the night and the day, the seasons of
the year, and the stars, and the sea and the land and the
co—operation of mankind, and yet they are not moved in
any degree by these things to turn their attention to them;
but they only seek to belch out their little problem (matter
for discussion), and when they have exercised their stomach
to go off to the bath. But what they shall say, and about
what things or to what persons, and what their hearers
shall learn from this talk, they care not even in the least
degree, nor do they care if any generous youth after hearing such talk should suffer any harm from it, nor after he
has suffered harm should lose all the seeds of his generous
nature; nor if we174 should give an adulterer help towards
being shameless in his acts; nor if a public peculator
should lay hold of some cunning excuse from these
doctrines; nor if another who neglects his parents should
be confirmed in his audacity by this teaching.—What
then in your opinion is good or bad? This or that?—
Why then should a man say any more in reply to such
persons as these, or give them any reason or listen to
any reason from them, or try to convince them? By
Zeus one might much sooner expect to make catamites
change their mind than those who are become so deaf and
blind to their own evils.175
Of inconsistency.
176
SOME things men readily confess, and other things they do
not. No one then will confess that he is a fool or without
understanding; but quite the contrary you will hear all
men saying, I wish that I had fortune equal to my understanding. But men readily confess that they are timid,
and they say: I am rather timid, I confess; but as to
other respects you will not find me to be foolish. A man
will not readily confess that he is intemperate; and that
he is unjust, he will not confess at all. He will by no
means confess that he is envious or a busy body. Most
men will confess that they are compassionate. What
then is the reason?—The chief thing (the ruling thing)
is inconsistency and confusion in the things which relate
to good and evil. But different men have different reasons;
and generally what they imagine to be base, they do not
confess at all. But they suppose timidity to be a characteristic of a good disposition, and compassion also; but
silliness to be the absolute characteristic of a slave. And
they do not at all admit (confess) the things which are.
offences against society. But in the case of most errors
for this reason chiefly they are induced to confess them,
because they imagine that there is something involuntary
in them as in timidity and compassion; and if a man
confess that he is in any respect intemperate, he alleges
love (or passion) as an excuse for what is involuntary.
But men do not imagine injustice to be at all involuntary.
There is also in jealousy, as they suppose, something involuntary; and for this reason they confess to jealousy
also.
Living then among such men, who are so confused, so
ignorant of what they say, and of the evils which they
have or have not, and why they have them, or how they
shall be relieved of them, I think it is worth the trouble
for a man to watch constantly (and to ask) whether I also
am one of them, what imagination I have about myself,
how I conduct myself, whether I conduct myself as a
prudent man, whether I conduct myself as a temperate
man, whether I ever say this, that I have been taught to
be prepared for every thing that may happen. Have I
the consciousness, which a man who knows nothing ought
to have, that I know nothing? Do I go to my teacher as
men go to oracles, prepared to obey? or do I like a snivel-
ling boy go to my school to learn history and understand
the books which I did not understand before, and, if it
should happen so, to explain them also to others?—Man,
you have had a fight in the house with a poor slave, you
have turned the family upside down, you have frightened
the neighbours, and you come to me177 as if you were a wise
man, and you take your seat and judge how I have explained some word, and low I have babbled whatever
came into my head. You come full of envy, and humbled,
because you bring nothing from home;178 and you sit
during the discussion thinking of nothing else than how
your father is disposed towards you and your brother.
'What are they saying about me there? now they think
that I am improving, and are saying, He will return with
all knowledge. I wish I could learn every thing before I
return: but much labour is necessary, and no one sends
me any thing, and the baths at Nicopolis are dirty; every
thing is bad at home, and bad here.'
Then they say, no one gains any profit from the school.
—Why, who comes to the school? who comes for the
purpose of being improved? who comes to present his
opinions to be purified? who comes to learn what he is in
want of? Why do you wonder then if you carry back
from the school the very things which you bring into it?
For you come not to lay aside (your principles) or to correct
them or to receive other principles in place of them. By
no means, nor any thing like it. You rather look to this,
whether you possess already that for which you come.
You wish to prattle about theorems? What then? Do you
not become greater triflers? Do not your little theorems
give you some opportunity of display? You solve sophistical syllogisms.179 Do you not examine the assumptions
of the syllogism named the Liar?180 Do you not examine
hypothetical syllogisms? Why then are you still vexed if
you receive the things for which you come to the school?
Yes; but if my child die or my brother, or if I must
die or be racked, what good will these things do me181?—
Well, did you come for this? for this do you sit by my
side? did you ever for this light your lamp or keep
awake? or, when you went out to the walking place,
did you ever propose any appearance that had been presented to you instead of a syllogism, and did you and your
friends discuss it together? Where and when? Then you
say, Theorems are useless. To whom? To such as make
a bad use of them. For eye—salves are not useless to those
who use them as they ought and when they ought.
Fomentations are not useless. Dum-bells182 are not useless;
but they are useless to some, useful to others. If you ask
me now if syllogisms are useful, I will tell you that they
are useful, and if you choose, I will prove it.183—How then
will they in any way be useful to me? Man, did you ask
if they are useful to you, or did you ask generally? Let
him who is suffering from dysentery, ask me if vinegar is
useful; I will say that it is useful.—Will it then be useful
to me?—I will say, no. Seek first for the discharge to
be stopped and the ulcers to be closed. And do you, O
men, first cure the ulcers and stop the discharge; be tranquil in your mind, bring it free from distraction into the
school, and you will know what power reason has.
On friendship.
184
WHAT a man applies himself to earnestly, that he natu-
rally loves. Do men then apply themselves earnestly to
the things which are bad? By no means. Well, do they
apply themselves to things which in no way concern
themselves? not to these either. It remains then that
they employ themselves earnestly only about things which
are good; and if they are earnestly employed about things,
they love such things also. Whoever then understands
what is good, can also know how to love: but he who
cannot distinguish good from bad, and things which are
neither good nor bad from both, how can he possess the
power of loving? To love then is only in the power of
the wise.
How is this? a man may say; I am foolish, and yet I
love my child.—I am surprised indeed that you have
begun by making the admission that you are foolish. For
what are you deficient in? Can you not make use of
your senses? do you not distinguish appearances? do you
not use food which is suitable for your body, and clothing
and habitation? Why then do you admit that you are
foolish? It is in truth because you are often disturbed by
appearances and perplexed, and their power of persuasion
often conquers you; and sometimes you think these things
to be good, and then the same things to be bad, and lastly
neither good nor bad; and in short you grieve, fear, envy,
are disturbed, you are changed. This is the reason why
you confess that you are foolish. And are you not changeable in love? But wealth, and pleasure and in a word
things themselves, do you sometimes think them to be
good, and sometimes bad? and do you not think the same
men at one time to be good, at another time bad? and
have you not at one time a friendly feeling towards them,
and at another time the feeling of an enemy? and do you
not at one time praise them, and at another time blame
them? Yes; I have these feelings also. Well then, do
you think that he who has been deceived about a man is
his friend? Certainly not. And he who has selected a
man as his friend and is of a changeable disposition, has
he good will towards him? He has not. And he who
now abuses a man, and afterwards admires him? This
man also has no good will to the other. Well then, did
you never see little dogs caressing and playing with one
another, so that you might say, there is nothing more
friendly? but that you may know what friendship is,
throw a bit of flesh among them, and you will learn.
Throw between yourself and your son a little estate, and
you will know how soon he will wish to bury you and
how soon you wish your son to die. Then you will change
your tone and say, what a son I have brought up! He
has long been wishing to bury me. Throw a smart girl
between you; and do you the old man love her, and the
young one will love her too. If a little fame intervene
or dangers, it will be just the same. You will utter the
words of the father of Admetus!
Life gives you pleasure: and why not your father?
185
Do you think that Admetus did not love his own child
when he was little? that he was not in agony when the
child had a fever? that he did not often say, I wish I had
the fever instead of the child? then when the test (the
thing) came and was near, see what words they utter.
Were not Eteocles and Polynices from the same mother
and from the same father? Were they not brought up
together, had they not lived together, drunk together,
slept together, and often kissed one another? So that, if
any man, I think, had seen them, he would have ridiculed
the philosophers for the paradoxes which they utter about
friendship. But when a quarrel rose between them about
the royal power, as between dogs about a bit of meat, see
what they say
Polynices. Where will you take your station
before the towers?
Eteocles. Why do you ask me this?
Pol. I will place myself opposite and try to
kill you.
Et. I also wish to do the same.
186
Such are the wishes that they utter.
For universally, be not deceived, every animal is
attached to nothing so much as to its own interest.187
Whatever then appears to it an impediment to this interest,
whether this be a brother, or a father, or a child, or
beloved, or lover, it hates, spurns, curses: for its nature is
to love nothing so much as its own interest; this is father,
and brother and kinsman, and country, and God. When
then the gods appear to us to be an impediment to this,
we abuse them and throw down their statues and burn
their temples, as Alexander ordered the temples of Aes-
culapius to be burned when his dear friend died.188
For this reason if a man put in the same place his
interest, sanctity, goodness, and country, and parents, and
friends, all these are secured: but if he puts in one place
his interest, in another his friends, and his country and
his kinsmen and justice itself, all these give way being
borne down by the weight of interest. For where the I
and the Mine are placed, to that place of necessity the
animal inclines: if in the flesh, there is the ruling power:
if in the will, it is there: and if it is in externals, it is
there.189 If then I am there where my will is, then only
shall I be a friend such as I ought to be, and son, and
father; for this will be my interest, to maintain the
character of fidelity, of modesty, of patience, of abstinence,
of active co—operation, of observing my relations (towards
all). But if I put myself in one place, and honesty in
another, then the doctrine of Epicurus becomes strong,
which asserts either that there is no honesty or it is that
which opinion holds to be honest (virtuous).190
It was through this ignorance that the Athenians and
the Lacedaemonians quarrelled, and the Thebans with
both; and the great king quarrelled with Hellas, and the
Macedonians with both; and the Romans with the Getae.191
And still earlier the Trojan war happened for these
reasons. Alexander was the guest of Menelaus; and if
any man had seen their friendly disposition, he would not
have believed any one who said that they were not friends.
But there was cast between them (as between dogs) a bit
of meat, a handsome woman, and about her war arose.
And now when you see brothers to be friends appearing to
have one mind, do not conclude from this any thing about
their friendship, not even if they swear it and say that it is
impossible for them to be separated from one another. For
the ruling principle of a bad man cannot be trusted, it is
insecure, has no certain rule by which it is directed, and
is overpowered at different times by different appearances.192
But examine, not what other men examine, if they are
born of the same parents and brought up together, and
under the same paedagogue; but examine this only,
wherein they place their interest, whether in externals or
in the will. If in externals, do not name them friends, no
more than name them trustworthy or constant, or brave
or free: do not name them even men, if you have any
judgment. For that is not a principle of human nature
which makes them bite one another, and abuse one another,
and occupy deserted places or public places, as if they
were mountains,193 and in the courts of justice display the
acts of robbers; nor yet that which makes them intemperate and adulterers and corrupters, nor that which
makes them do whatever else men do against one another
through this one opinion only, that of placing themselves
and their interests in the things which are not within the
power of their will. But if you hear that in truth these
men think the good to be only there, where will is, and
where there is a right use of appearances, no longer
trouble yourself whether they are father or son, or
brothers, or have associated a long time and are companions, but when you have ascertained this only, confidently declare that they are friends, as you declare that
they are faithful, that they are just. For where else is
friendship than where there is fidelity, and modesty,
where there is a communion194 of honest things and of
nothing else?
But you may say, such a one treated me with regard so
lung; and did he not love me? How do you know, slave,
if he did not regard you in the same way as he wipes his
shoes with a sponge, or as he takes care of his beast? How
do you know, when you have ceased to be useful as a
vessel, he will not throw you away like a broken platter?
But this woman is my wife, and we have lived together so
long. And how long did Eriphyle live with Amphiaraus,
and was the mother of children and of many? But a
necklace195 came between them: and what is a necklace?
It is the opinion about such things. That was the bestial
principle, that was the thing which broke asunder the
friendship between husband and wife, that which did not
allow the woman to be a wife nor the mother to be a
mother. And let every man among you who has seriously
resolved either to be a friend himself or to have another for
his friend, cut out these opinions, hate them, drive them from
his soul. And thus first of all he will not reproach himself,
he will not be at variance with himself, he will not change
his mind, he will not torture himself. In the next place, to
another also, who is like himself, he will be altogether and
completely a friend.196 But he will bear with the man
who is unlike himself, he will be kind to him, gentle, ready
to pardon on account of his ignorance, on account of his
being mistaken in things of the greatest importance; but
he will be harsh to no man, being well convinced of
Plato's doctrine that every mind is deprived of truth
unwillingly. If you cannot do this, yet you can do in all
other respects as friends do, drink together, and lodge
together, and sail together, and you may be born of the
same parents; for snakes also are: but neither will they
be friends nor you, so long as you retain these bestial and
cursed opinions.
On the power of speaking.
EVERY man will read a book with more pleasure or even
with more ease, if it is written in fairer characters. Therefore every man will also listen more readily to what is
spoken, if it is signified by appropriate and becoming
words. We must not say then that there is no faculty
of expression: for this affirmation is the characteristic of
an impious and also of a timid man. Of an impious man,
because he undervalues the gifts which come from God,
just as if he would take away the commodity of the power
of vision, or of hearing, or of seeing. Has then God
given you eyes to no purpose? and to no purpose has he
infused into them a spirit197 so strong and of such skilful
contrivance as to reach a long way and to fashion the
forms of things which are seen? What messenger is so
swift and vigilant? And to no purpose has he made the
interjacent atmosphere so efficacious and elastic that the
vision penetrates through the atmosphere which is in a
manner moved?198 And to no purpose has he made light,
without the presence of which there would be no use in
any other thing?
Man, be neither ungrateful for these gifts nor yet forget
the things which are superior to them. But indeed for the
power of seeing and hearing, and indeed for life itself, and
for the things which contribute to support it, for the fruits
which are dry, and for wine and oil give thanks to God:
but remember that he has given you something else better
than all these, I mean the power of using them, proving
them and estimating the value of each. For what is that
whom gives information about each of these powers, what
each of them is worth?199 Is it each faculty itself? Did
you ever hear the faculty of vision saying any thing about
itself? or the faculty of hearing? or wheat, or barley, or a
horse or a dog? No; but they are appointed as ministers
and slaves to serve the faculty which has the power of
making use of the appearances of things. And if you
inquire what is the value of each thing, of whom do you
inquire? who answers you? How then can any other
faculty be more powerful than this, which uses the rest as
ministers and itself proves each and pronounces about
them? for which of them knows what itself is, and what
is its own value? which of them knows when it ought
to employ itself and when not? what faculty is it which
opens and closes the eyes, and turns them away from
objects to which it ought not to apply them and does
apply them to other objects? Is it the faculty of vision?
No; but it is the faculty of the will. What is that faculty
which closes and opens the ears? what is that by which
they are curious and inquisitive, or on the contrary unmoved by what is said? is it the faculty of hearing?
It is no other than the faculty of the will.200 Will this
faculty then, seeing that it is amidst all the other faculties
which are blind and dumb and unable to see any thing
else except the very acts for which they are appointed in
order to minister to this (faculty) and serve it, but this
faculty alone sees sharp and sees what is the value of each
of the rest; will this faculty declare to us that any thing
else is the best, or that itself is? And what else does the
eye do when it is opened than see? But whether we ought
to look on the wife of a certain person, and in what
manner, who tells us? The faculty of the will. And
whether we ought to believe what is said or not to believe
it, and if we do believe, whether we ought to be moved by
it or not, who tells us? Is it not the faculty of the will?
But this faculty of speaking and of ornamenting words,
if there is indeed any such peculiar faculty, what else does
it do, when there happens to be discourse about a thing,
than to ornament the words and arrange them as hairdressers do the hair? But whether it is better to speak
or to be silent, and better to speak in this way or that
way, and whether this is becoming or not becoming, and
the season for each and the use, what else tells us than
the faculty of the will? Would you have it then to come
forward and condemn itself?
What then? it (the will) says,201 if the fact is so, can
that which ministers be superior to that to which it
ministers, can the horse be superior to the rider, or the
dog to the huntsman, or the instrument to the musician,
or the servants to the king? What is that which makes
use of the rest? The will. What takes care of all? The
will. What destroys the whole man, at one time by
hunger, at another time by hanging, and at another time
by a precipice? The will. Then is any thing stronger
in men than this? and how is it possible that the things
which are subject to restraint are stronger than that which
is not? What things are naturally formed to hinder the
faculty of vision? Both will and things which do not
depend on the faculty of the will.202 It is the same with
the faculty of hearing, with the faculty of speaking in
like manner. But what has a natural power of hindering the will? Nothing which is independent of the will;
but only the will itself, when it is perverted. Therefore
this (the will) is alone vice or alone virtue.
Then being so great a faculty and set over all the rest,
let it (the will) come forward and tell us that the most
excellent of all things is the flesh. Not even if the flesh
itself declared that it is the most excellent, would any
person bear that it should say this. But what is it, Epicurus, which pronounces this, which wrote about the End
(purpose) of our Being,203 which wrote on the Nature of
Things, which wrote about the Canoa (rule of truth),
which led you to wear a beard, which wrote when it was
dying that it was spending the last and a happy day?204
Was this the flesh or the will? Then do you admit that
you possess any thing superior to this (the will)? and are
you not mad? are you in fact so blind and deaf?
What then? does any man despise the other faculties?
I hope not. Does any man say that there is no use or
excellence in the speaking faculty?205 I hope not. That
would be foolish, impious, ungrateful towards God. But
a man renders to each thing its due value. For there is
some use even in an ass, but not so much as in an ox:
there is also use in a dog, but not so much as in a slave:
there is also some use in a slave, but not so much as in
citizens: there is also some use in citizens, but not so
much as in magistrates. Not indeed because some things
are superior, must we undervalue the use which other
things have. There is a certain value in the power of
speaking, but it is not so great as the power of the will.
When then I speak thus, let no man think that I ask you
to neglect the power of speaking, for neither do I ask you
to neglect the eyes, nor the ears nor the hands nor the feet,
nor clothing nor shoes. But if you ask me what then is
the most excellent of all things, what must I say? I
cannot say the power of speaking, but the power of the
will, when it is right (ὀρθὴ). For it is this which uses
the other (the power of speaking), and all the other
faculties both small and great. For when this faculty of
the will is set right, a man who is not good becomes good:
but when it fails, a man becomes bad. It is through this
that we are unfortunate, that we are fortunate, that we
blame one another, are pleased with one another. In a
word, it is this which if we neglect it makes unhappiness,
and if we carefully look after it, makes happiness.
But to take away the faculty of speaking and to say
that there is no such faculty in reality, is the act not only
of an ungrateful man towards those who gave it, but also
of a cowardly man: for such a person seems to me to fear,
if there is any faculty of this kind, that we shall not be
able to despise it. Such also are those who say that there
is no difference between beauty and ugliness. Then it
would happen that a man would be affected in the same
way if he saw Thersites and if he saw Achilles; in the
same way, if he saw Helen and any other woman. But
these are foolish and clownish notions, and the notions of
men who know not the nature of each thing, but are afraid,
if a man shall see the difference, that he shall immediately
be seized and carried off vanquished. But this is the
great matter; to leave to each thing the power (faculty)
which it has, and leaving to it this power to see what is
the worth of the power, and to learn what is the most
excellent of all things, and to pursue this always, to be
diligent about this, considering all other things of second-
ary value compared with this, but yet, as far as we can,
not neglecting all those other things. For we must take
care of the eyes also, not as if they were the most excellent thing, but we must take care of them on account of
the most excellent thing, because it will not be in its true
natural condition, if it does not rightly use the ether
faculties, and prefer some things to others.
What then is usually done? Men generally act as a
traveller would do on his way to his own country, when
he enters a good inn, and being pleased with it should
remain there. Man, you have forgotten your purpose:
you were not travelling to this inn, but you were passing
through it.—But this is a pleasant inn.—And how many
other inns are pleasant? and how many meadows are
pleasant? yet only for passing through. But your purpose
is this, to return to your country, to relieve your kinsmen
of anxiety, to discharge the duties of a citizen, to marry, to
beget children, to fill the usual magistracies.206 For you
are not come to select more pleasant places, but to live
in these where you were born and of which you were made
a citizen. Something of the kind takes place in the matter
which we are considering. Since by the aid of speech and
such communication as you receive here you must advance
to perfection, and purge your will and correct the faculty
which makes use of the appearances of things; and since
it is necessary also for the teaching (delivery) of theorems
to be effected by a certain mode of expression and with a
certain variety and sharpness, some persons captivated by
these very things abide in them, one captivated by the expression, another by syllogisms, another again by sophisms,
and still another by some other inn (πανδοκείου) of the kind;
and there they stay and waste away as if they were
among Sirens.
Man, your purpose (business) was to make yourself
capable of using comformably to nature the appearances
presented to you, in your desires not to be frustrated,
in your aversion from things not to fall into that which
you would avoid, never to have no luck (as one may say),
nor ever to have bad luck, to be free, not hindered, not
compelled, conforming yourself to the administration of
Zeus, obeying it, well satisfied with this, blaming no one,
charging no one with fault, able from your whole soul to
utter these verses
Lead me, O Zeus, and thou too Destiny.
207
Then having this purpose before you, if some little form of
expression pleases you, if some theorems please you, do
you abide among them and choose to dwell there,
forgetting the things at home, and do you say, These
things are fine? Who says that they are not fine? but
only as being a way home, as inns are. For what hinders
you from being an unfortunate man, even if you speak like
Demosthenes? and what prevents you, if you can resolve
syllogisms like Chrysippus,208 from being wretched, from
sorrowing, from envying, in a word, from being disturbed,
from being unhappy? Nothing. You see then that these
were inns, worth nothing; and that the purpose before
you was something else. When I speak thus to some
persons, they think that I am rejecting care about speaking
or care about theorems. But I am not rejecting this care,
but I am rejecting the abiding about these things incessantly209 and putting our hopes in them. If a man by this
teaching does harm to those who listen to him, reckon me
too among those who do this harm: for I am not able,
when I see one thing which is most excellent and supreme,
to say that another is so, in order to please you.
To (or against) a person who was one of those who were not valued (esteemed) by him.
A CERTAIN person said to him (Epictetus): Frequently I
desired to hear you and came to you, and you never gave
me any answer: and now, if it is possible, I intreat you
to say something to me. Do you think, said Epictetus,
that as there is an art in any thing else, so there is also
an art in speaking, and that he who has the art, will speak
skilfully, and he who has not, will speak unskilfully?—
I do think so.—He then who by speaking receives benefit
himself, and is able to benefit others, will speak skilfully:
but he who is rather damaged by speaking and does damage
to others, will he be unskilled in this art of speaking?
And you may find that some are damaged and others benefited by speaking. And are all who hear benefited by
what they hear? Or will you find that among them also
some are benefited and some damaged?—There are both
among these also, he said.—In this case also then those
who hear skilfully are benefited, and those who hear
unskilfully are damaged? He admitted this. Is there
then a skill in hearing also, as there is in speaking?—
It seems so.—If you choose, consider the matter in this
way also. The practice of music, to whom does it belong?
To a musician. And the proper making of a statue, to
whom do you think that it belongs? To a statuary. And
the looking at a statue skilfully, does this appear to you
to require the aid of no art?—This also requires the aid
of art.—Then if speaking properly is the business of the
skilful man, do you see that to hear also with benefit is
the business of the skilful man.? Now as to speaking and
hearing perfectly, and usefully,210 let us for the present, if you
please, say no more, for both of us are a long way from
every thing of the kind. But I think that every man will
allow this, that he who is going to hear philosophers
requires some amount of practice in hearing. Is it not so?
Tell me then about what I should talk to you: about
what matter are you able to listen?—About good and evil.
—Good and evil in what? In a horse? No. Well, in an
ox? No. What then? In a man? Yes. Do we know then
what a man is, what the notion is which we have of him,
or have we our ears in any degree practised about this
matter? But do you understand what nature is? or can
you even in any degree understand me when I say, I shall
use demonstration to you? How? Do you understand
his very thing, what demonstration is, or how any thing
i, demonstrated, or by what means; or what things are
like demonstration, but are not demonstration? Do you
know what is true or what is false? What is consequent
on a thing, what is repugnant to a thing, or not consistent, or in-
consistent?211 But must I excite you to philosophy, and how? Shall I show to you the repugnance in
the opinions of most men, through which they differ about
things good and evil, and about things which are profitable and unprofitable, when you know not this very thing,
what repugnance (contradiction) is? Show me then what
I shall accomplish by discoursing with you: excite my
inclination to do this. As the grass which is suitable,
when it is presented to a sheep, moves its inclination to
eat, but if you present to it a stone or bread, it will not
be moved to eat; so there are in us certain natural inclinations also to speak, when the hearer shall appear to be
somebody, when he himself shall excite us: but when he
shall sit by us like a stone or like grass, how can he excite
a man's desire (to speak)? Does the vine say to the husbandman, Take care of me? No, but the vine by showing
in itself that it will be profitable to the husbandman, if
he does take care of it, invites him to exercise care. When
children are attractive and lively, whom do they not invite
to play with them, and crawl with them, and lisp with
them? But who is eager to play with an ass or to bray
with it? for though it is small, it is still a little ass.
Why then do you say nothing to me? I can only say
this to you, that he who knows not who he is, and for
what purpose he exists, and what is this world, and with
whom he is associated, and what things are the good and
the bad, and the beautiful and the ugly, and who neither
understands discourse nor demonstration, nor what is true
nor what is false, and who is not able to distinguish them,
will neither desire according to nature nor turn away nor
move towards, nor intend (to act), nor assent, nor dissent
nor suspend his judgment: to say all in a few words, he
will go about dumb and blind, thinking that he is somebody, but being nobody. Is this so now for the first time?
Is it not the fact that ever since the human race existed,
all errors and misfortunes have arisen through this igno-
rance? Why did Agamemnon and Achilles quarrel with
one another? Was it not through not knowing what
things are profitable and not profitable? Does not the
one say it is profitable to restore Chryseis to her father,
and does not the other say that it is not profitable? does
not the one say that he ought to take the prize of another,
and does not the other say that he ought not? Did they
not for these reasons forget, both who they were and for
what purpose they had come there? Oh, man, for what
purpose did you come? to gain mistresses or to fight? To
fight. With whom? the Trojans or the Hellenes? With the
Trojans. Do you then leave Hector alone and draw your
sword against your own king? And do you, most excellent Sir, neglect the duties of the king, you who are the
people's guardian and have such cares; and are you quarrelling about a little girl with the most warlike of your
allies, whom you ought by every means to take care of and
protect? and do you become worse than (inferior to) a
well behaved priest who treats you these fine gladiators
with all respect? Do you see what kind of things ignorance of what is profitable does?
But I also am rich. Are you then richer than Agamemnon? But I am also handsome. Are you then more
handsome than Achilles? But I have also beautiful hair.
But had not Achilles more beautiful hair and gold coloured? and he did not comb it elegantly nor dress it.
But I am also strong. Can you then lift so great a stone
as Hector or Ajax? But I am also of noble birth. Are
you the son of a goddess mother? are you the son of a
father sprung from Zeus? What good then do these things
do to him, when he sits and weeps for a girl? But I am an
orator. And was he not? Do you not see how he handled
the most skilful of the Hellenes in oratory, Odysseus and
Phoenix? how he stopped their mouths?212
This is all that I have to say to you; and I say even
this not willingly. Why? Because you have not roused
me. For what must I look to in order to be roused, as
men who are expert in riding are roused by generous
horses? Must I look to your body? You treat it dis-
gracefully. To your dress? That is luxurious. To your
behaviour, to your look? That is the same as nothing.
When you would listen to a philosopher, do not say to him,
You tell me nothing; but only show yourself worthy of
hearing or fit for hearing; and you will see how you will
move the speaker.
That logic is necessary.
213
WHEN one of those who were present said, Persuade me
that logic is necessary, he replied, Do you wish me to
prove this to you? The answer was—Yes.—Then I must
use a demonstrative form of speech.—This was granted.—
How then will you know if I am cheating you by my argument? The man was silent. Do you see, said Epictetus,
that you yourself are admitting that logic is necessary, if
without it you cannot know so much as this, whether
logic is necessary or not necessary?
What is the property of error.
EVERY error comprehends contradiction: for since he who
errs does not wish to err, but to be right, it is plain that
he does not do what he wishes. For what does the thief
wish to do? That which is for his own interest.214 If then
the theft is not for his interest, he does not do that which
he wishes. But every rational soul is by nature offended
at contradiction, and so long as it does not understand this
contradiction, it is not hindered from doing contradictory
things: but when it does understand the contradiction,
it must of necessity avoid the contradiction and avoid
it as much as a man must dissent from the false when he
sees that a thing is false; but so long as this falsehood
does not appear to him, he assents to it as to truth.
He then is strong in argument and has the faculty of
exhorting and confuting, who is able to show to each man
the contradiction through which he errs and clearly to prove
how he does not do that which he wishes and does that
which he does not wish. For if any one shall show this, a
man will himself withdraw from that which he does; but
so long as you do not show this, do not be surprised if a
man persists in his practice; for having the appearance of
doing right, he does what he does. For this reason
Socrates also trusting to this power used to say, I am
used to call no other witness of what I say, but I am always
satisfied with him with whom I am discussing, and I ask
him to give his opinion and call him as a witness, and
though he is only one, he is sufficient in the place of all.
For Socrates knew by what the rational soul is moved, just
like a pair of scales, and then it must incline, whether it
chooses or not.215 Show the rational governing faculty a
contradiction, and it will withdraw from it; but if you do
not show it, rather blame yourself than him who is not
persuaded.216