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■?rbe damclot Secies 
 
 Edited by Ernest Rhys 
 
 EPICTETUS 
 
ry-<HE TEACHING OF EPICTETUS: 
 
 1 BEING THE ‘ ENCHEIRIDION 
 OF EPICTETUS,’ WITH SELECTIONS 
 FROM THE ‘DISSERTATIONS’ AND 
 ‘FRAGMENTS.’ 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK, 
 WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, BY 
 
 T. W. ROLLESTON. 
 
 SECOND EDITION, REVISED. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 WALTER SCOTT, 24 WARWICK LANE, 
 
 PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 

 
881 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 Introduction 
 Cleanthes* Hymn to Zeus 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oo 
 
 Chap. 
 
 H. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 III. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 IV. 
 
 o 
 
 Chap, 
 
 V. 
 
 A 
 
 Chap. 
 
 VI. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 VII. 
 
 & 
 
 Chap. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 I. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 II. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Chap. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Chap. 
 
 V. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 VI. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 VII. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 VHI. 
 
 v) 
 
 Chap. 
 
 IX. 
 
 4 
 
 Chap. 
 
 X. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XI. 
 
 
 Chap, 
 
 XII. 
 
 h 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XIH. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XV. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 V 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 \5 
 
 Chap. 
 
 XXVH. 
 
 The Promise of Philosophy . 
 
 The Way of Philosophy 
 To the Learner 
 The Cynic 
 
 BOOK 11. 
 
 On Genuine and Borrowed Beliefs . 
 
 The Game of Life 
 
 Things are what they are 
 
 Three Steps to Perfection 
 
 That a man may be both bold and fearful 
 
 The Wise Man’s Fear and the Fool’s , 
 
 Appearances False and True 
 
 How we should think as God s offspring 
 
 The Open Door 
 
 Know Thyself .... 
 
 How we should bear ourselves towards evil i 
 
 The Voyage of Life 
 
 The Mark of Effort 
 
 Faculties , . . . 
 
 Keturns 
 
 The Price of Tranquillity 
 A Choice .... 
 
 That where the Heart is the Bond is 
 That we lament not from within 
 That a man may act his part but not choose 
 Distinctions .... 
 
 That a man is sufficient to himself 
 That every man fulfil his own task 
 The World’s Price for the World’s Worth 
 Aims of Nature 
 The Mind’s Security . 
 
 That a Man should be One Man . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 3 
 
 7 
 
 9 
 
 12 
 
 14 
 
 15 
 20 
 23 
 
 40 
 
 45 
 
 60 
 
 52 
 
 54 
 
 59 
 
 60 
 63 
 70 
 73 
 78 
 80 
 81 
 
 85 
 
 86 
 86 
 87 
 
 90 
 
 92 
 
 93 
 
 94 
 
 95 
 97 
 
 97 
 
 98 
 
vi 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Chap. I. Obligations ...... 101 
 
 Chap. II. Against Epicurus ..... 102 
 
 Chap. III. Against the Epicureans and Academics . . 104 
 
 Chap. IV. On Slavery ...... 109 
 
 Chap. V. To the Administrator of the Free Cities, who was an 
 
 Epicurean . . . . .110 
 
 Chap. VI. On Statecraft ...... 116 
 
 Chap. VII. On Friendship . ..... 117 
 
 Chap. VIII. Time and Change ..... 123 
 
 Chap. IX. On Solitude ...... 133 
 
 Chap. X. Against the Contentious and Kevengeful . . 136 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 Chap. I. OfKeligion ...... 141 
 
 Chap. II. Of Providence ...... 142 
 
 Chap. III. Of Providence ...... 146 
 
 Chap. IV. God in Man 148 
 
 Chap. V. Of Divination ...... 154 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 Chap. I. The Behaviour of a Philosopher . . .156 
 
 Chap. II. On Habit ...... 159 
 
 Chap. III. On Disputation ..... 164 
 
 Chap. IV. That we should be Slow in Accepting Pleasure . 166 
 
 Chap. V. That we should be Open in our Dealings . .166 
 
 Chap. VI. That Half True may be all False . . . 167 
 
 Chap. VII. That each Man Play his Own Part . . . 167 
 
 Chap. VIII. That we should be Careful of the Soul as of the Body 168 
 
 Chap. IX. The Measure of Gain ..... 168 
 
 Chap. X. The Worth of Women ..... 169 
 
 Chap. XI. A Dull Nature . . . . . .169 
 
 Chap, XII. Of Adornment of the Person .... 170 
 
 Chap. XIII. Why we should Bear with Wrong . . . 174 
 
 Chap, XIV. That Everything hath Two Handles . . . 175 
 
 Chap. XV. On certain False Conclusions .... 175 
 
 Chap. XVI. Perception and Judgment .... 176 
 
 Chap. XVII. That the Philosopher shall Exhibit to the Vulgar 
 
 Deeds, not Words . . - . .179 
 
 Chap, XVIII. Ascesis 180 
 
 Chap. XIX. Tokens 181 
 
 Chap. XX. That the Logical Art is Necessary . . . 182 
 
 Chap. XXI. Grammarian or Sage . . . . .183 
 
 Chap. XXII. Accomplishments . . . . * . 184 
 
 Chap. XXIII. Constancy . . . . . ' . 190 
 
 Chap. XXIV. How Long ? 190 
 
 Chap. XXV. Parts of Philosophy . . . . , 191 
 
 Chap. XXVI. Memorabilia ...... 192 
 
 Notes ...... . . 193 
 
 Notes on the Principal Philosophic Terms used by Epictetus . . 215 
 
 Index of Keferences , . . • • 219 
 
Dass der Me7iscTi ins UnvermetdlicTie sicJi filge^ 
 darauf dringen alle Religionenj jede sucht auf ihre 
 
 Weise init dieser Aufgabe fertig zu werdeni'* 
 
 —Goethe. 
 
 -Liber Epicteti nobilissimi StoicV^ 
 
 — St. AUGUSTINE. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 B ut for the zeal and ability of one disciple we 
 should not now possess any trustworthy account 
 of the teaching of Epictetus. For, like not a few 
 other sages, he wrote nothing — ^his teaching was 
 purely oral, delivered, in the form of lectures or 
 discourses, to the students who came to him to receive 
 their education in philosophy. One of these students 
 was Flavius Arrianus, afterwards Senator and Consul 
 of Rome, named by Lucian one among the first of 
 Roman men,” and known to us chiefly as author of 
 the best history of Alexander the Great which was 
 produced in antiquity. That history is still extant, 
 but posterity owes Arrian still more abundant thanks 
 for the copious notes of the teaching of Epictetus 
 which he took down from his master’s lips in 
 Nicopolis. This record he afterwards published in 
 eight books (whereof only four now remain), entitled 
 the Dissertations of Epictetus; and out of these he 
 drew the materials for compiling the little work, the 
 
X 
 
 IN TROD UCTION 
 
 Encheiridion, or Manual, of Epictetus, by which this 
 philosopher has hitherto been most generally known.^ 
 
 It is clear that the Dissertations were not regarded 
 by Arrian as a satisfactory representation of the 
 teaching of his master; that he published them, 
 indeed, with much reluctance, and only when it 
 appeared that unless he did so, certain imperfect 
 versions of his records would be established as the sole 
 sources of authoritative information about Epictetus, 
 These circumstances are explained in a dedicatory 
 letter to his friend Lucius Gellius, prefixed to the 
 edition of the Dissertations which Arrian finally 
 resolved to issue. I here translate this document 
 in full : — 
 
 Arrian to Lucius Gellius, hail. 
 
 “I did not write [in literary form and composition, 
 <n)yypd^€Lv\ the words of Epictetus in the manner in which 
 a man might write such things. Neither have I put them 
 forth among men, since, as I say, I did not even write 
 them. But whatever I heard him speak, those things I 
 endeavoured to set down in his very words, so to preserve 
 to myself for future times a memorial of his thought and 
 unstudied speech. Naturally, therefore, they are such 
 things as one man might say to another on the occasion of 
 
 ^ The Encheiridion of Epictetus^ Translated into English by T. W. 
 Rolleston. Kegan Paul, Trench, & Co., 1881. 
 
INTRO D UCTION 
 
 XI 
 
 the moment, not such as he would put together with the 
 idea of finding readers long afterwards. Such they are, 
 and I know not how without my will or knowledge 
 they fell among men. But to me it is no great matter 
 if I shall appear unequal to composing such a work, 
 and to Epictetus none at all if anyone shall despise his 
 discourse ; for when he spoke it, it was evident that he had 
 but one aim — to stir the minds of his hearers towards the 
 best things. And if, indeed, the words here written should 
 do the same, then they will do, I think, that which the 
 words of sages ought to do. But if not, yet let those who 
 read them know this, that when he himself spoke them, it 
 was impossible for the hearer to avoid feeling whatever 
 Epictetus desired he should feel. But if his words, when 
 they are merely words, have not this effect, perhaps it is 
 that I am in fault, perhaps it could not have been other- 
 wise. Farewell I ” 
 
 The style of the DissertationSy as they have reached 
 us, answers very well to the above account of their 
 origin and purpose. They contain much that the 
 world should be as little willing to neglect as any- 
 thing that Greek philosophy has left us; but they 
 contain also many repetitions, redundancies, inco- 
 herencies; and are absolutely devoid of any sort of 
 order or system in their arrangement. Each chapter 
 has generally something of a central theme, but 
 beyond this all is chaos. The same theme will be 
 
xii 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 dwelt on again and again in almost the same phrases ; 
 utterances of majestic wisdom are embedded in pages 
 of tedious argument, and any grouping of the 
 chapters according to a progressive sequence of ideas 
 will be looked for in vain. 
 
 Under these conditions it was evident that the 
 teaching of Epictetus could never win half the 
 influence which its essential qualities fitted it to 
 exercise. And accordingly, as another and better 
 vehicle for this influence, Arrian compiled and con- 
 densed from the Dissertations the small handbook of 
 the Stoic philosophy known as the Encheiridion of 
 Epictetus. This little work has made Epictetus 
 known to very many whom the Dissertations would 
 never have reached. It had the distinction — un- 
 paralleled in the case of any other Pagan writing, 
 if we except the doubtful Sententice of Xystus — of 
 being adopted as a religious work in the early 
 Christian Church. Two paraphrases of it — still 
 extant — one of which was specially designed for the 
 use of monastic bodies, were produced about the sixth 
 century A.D., in which very few changes were made 
 in the text, beyond the alteration of Pagan names and 
 allusions to Scriptural ones. 
 
 About the same time it was made the subject of an 
 elaborate and lengthy commentary by a pagan writer, 
 Simplicius, wherein chapter after chapter is dissected, 
 
INTRO D UCTION 
 
 xiii 
 
 discussed, and explained. It was elegantly rendered 
 into Latin by the well-known scholar of the 
 Eenaissance, Angelo Politian, who dedicated his 
 translation to Lorenzo de’ Medici Down to the 
 present day, as numerous translations testify, it has 
 remained the most usual means of access to the 
 thought of Epictetus. 
 
 But inestimable as the Encheiridion is, he who 
 knows it alone has gained nothing like all that 
 Epictetus has to give. It is a compendium ; and 
 although much more stirring and forcible than is 
 usual with such works, it cannot give us the wealth of 
 interesting allusion, reflection, humour, the bursts of 
 eloquence, the abrupt and biting style, the vivid 
 revelations of personal feeling, which marked the 
 teaching of Epictetus in the form in which he delivered 
 it. It seems, therefore, that to make him as accessible 
 as he can be to those for whom such things have any 
 value or interest, it were necessary to produce from 
 the Encheiridion and the Dissertations a third work, 
 which should have the advantages of each. This is 
 what I have endeavoured to do in the present work. 
 In it the whole of the Encheiridion is given, and the 
 divisions of subject-matter into which the Encheiri- 
 dion falls have been observed by the division of my 
 translation into flve Books, corresponding with the 
 natural divisions of the Encheiridion — Book I., 
 
INTROD UCTION. 
 
 x\v 
 
 treating of the first principles of the Stoic philosophy ; 
 Book II., dealing with the general application of these 
 principles to life ; Book III., with man’s relations to 
 his fellow-man ; Book IV., with his relations to God ; 
 Book Y., containing, besides a couple of concluding 
 chapters, chiefly practical counsels of behaviour on 
 various particular occasions, and obiter dicta on the use 
 of the faculties. Such is the scheme of arrangement 
 suggested by the Encheiridion ; and I have filled it 
 in by setting among the chapters of the Encheiridion 
 chapters or passages from the Dissertations, selected 
 for their relevancy to the matter in hand. In fact, I 
 have reversed the process by which the Encheiridion 
 came into being. It was condensed out of the 
 Dissertations : I have expanded it again by drawing 
 into it a large quantity of material from the 
 original work, and subjecting the new matter thus 
 gained to the system and order of sequence which I 
 found to prevail in the Encheiridion. The passages 
 or chapters taken from the Dissertations are those 
 which seemed to me most characteristic of the 
 philosophy or the personality of Epictetus, and I 
 have made it my aim to omit nothing which is 
 essential to a full and clear understanding of the 
 message he had to deliver to his generation. Of 
 course there is plenty of room for differences of 
 opinion as to the manner in which this conception 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 XV 
 
 has been here carried out ; but I hope that the 
 present attempt may do something to win a larger 
 audience for his teaching than former editions 
 could, in the nature of the case, obtain. If 
 this hope should prove to be well founded, I shall 
 expect, some day, to give the present English version 
 a counterpart in a Greek text arranged on the same 
 lines. 
 
 I may add here that the reader will find an Index 
 at the end of this volume, in which every paragraph 
 is referred to its original source in the Dissertations, 
 Encheiridion, or Fragments — the references applying 
 to Schweighauser’s standard edition of Epictetus.^ 
 
 As regards the style of my translation, I hope the 
 tinge of archaism I have given it will be felt to suit the 
 matter. I could think of no idiom so varied, so fiex- 
 ible even down to its use of various grammatical forms, 
 
 1 Epicteti Dissertationum ab Arriano Digestarum Libri IV. et ex 
 Deperditis Sermonibus Fragmenta. Post lo. Uptoni aliorumquo 
 curas, denuo ad Codicum MStorum fidem recensuit, Latina Yersione, 
 Adnotationibus, IndicibusillustraTit Johannes Schweighauser. Lipsiae. 
 MDCCXCIX. 
 
 Epicteti Manuale et Cebetis Tabula Greece et Latine. Schw. 
 MDCCXCYIII. 
 
 There are two excellent English translations of the whole extant 
 works of Epictetus — one by Mrs. Carter, published in the last century, 
 the other by the late George Long, M.A. (Bohn Series), to both of 
 which, but especially the latter, I desire to record my great obligations. 
 
XVI 
 
 INTRO D UCTION 
 
 so well suited alike to colloquy, or argument, or satire, 
 or impassioned eloquence as Elizabethan English. 
 
 So much to make the plan o£ the present work 
 understood ; and the reader may perhaps wish that I 
 would now leave him to the study of it. But there 
 is much in Epictetus the significance of which will 
 not appear to anyone who is unacquainted with the 
 general system of Stoic philosophy which formed the 
 basis of Epictetus’s ethical teaching. And I hope 
 that the reader will prefer to have such information 
 as is necessary given him in the form of a general intro- 
 duction rather than in that of a multitude of notes. 
 
 The founder of the Stoic philosophy was Zeno, 
 a native of Cyprus, who taught in Athens, about 
 SOO B.C., in that frescoed arcade, or Stoa, which gave 
 its name to his school. His birth-place is worth 
 noting, for Zeno lived at the beginning of that epoch, 
 himself one of the first products of it, in which the 
 infiuence of the East became strongly apparent in 
 Greek thought ; the period called Hellenistic in con- 
 tradistinction to the purely Hellenic period which 
 ended in the conquests of the Macedonians. In many 
 ways the conditions of life in the Hellenistic period 
 formed the most favourable milieu possible for the 
 development of Greek thought upon the only lines 
 which, after Aristotle, it could fruitfully pursue ; and 
 this not in spite of, but even because of, the great 
 
JNTROD UCTION. 
 
 xvii 
 
 degradation of political and social life from which all 
 Hellendom then suffered. What the democratic 
 polities were like, on which was laid the problem of 
 confronting Philip of Macedon, we may conjecture 
 from the history of the best known and assuredly not 
 the worst of them, Athens. And the best type of 
 Athenian whose rise to power was favoured by the 
 conditions of this time and place was Demosthenes : 
 Demosthenes, the grand historical warning to all 
 peoples against committing their destinies to pro- 
 fessional orators ; the statesman whose doubtless real 
 veneration for his country and her past served only 
 to make him a more mischievous counsellor in her 
 present diflSculties ; whose splendid power as a 
 wielder of words was scarcely more signal than 
 his incapacity and cowardice when he was called 
 upon to match those words with deeds. Athens, 
 entangling the Thebans in an alliance against Mace- 
 don, and then leaving them to face Alexander alone ; 
 deifying Demetrius the Besieger for driving out a 
 Macedonian garrison, and allotting him the Parthenon 
 itself to be his lodging and the scene of his unspeak- 
 able profligacies; murdering Phocion, the one man 
 who dared to bring sincerity and virtue to her service 
 — Athens was a type of the Greek States of this 
 epoch: too unprincipled for democratic government, 
 too contentious for despotism, too vain to submit to 
 
XVlll 
 
 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 foreign rule, too lacking in valour, purpose, union, 
 to resist it with effect. 
 
 Whatever the causes of the change may have been, 
 the conditions of public life in this Hellenistic period 
 were certainly very different from those which pre- 
 vailed, albeit with decadence, before that vast 
 breaking up of boundaries and destruction of 
 political systems involved in the Macedonian con- 
 quests. The successful and inspiring conflict with 
 Persia waged by the Hellenic States had for a time 
 made all Greek hearts to beat with one aspiration, 
 and had brought to the front a race of leaders who 
 were capable of subduing the Greek democracies to 
 their own steadfast and statesmanlike purposes. 
 Public life was then not only a possible but even the 
 most natural career for a man of talent and probity. 
 The small size of the Greek States gave almost every 
 such man an opportunity of action, and so keen and 
 universal was the interest in politics that it 
 threatened to lead Greek philosophy into a region 
 in which philosophy is very apt to lose its vitalising 
 connection with human consciousness and experience, 
 and to stiffen into barren speculation. In a word, 
 man, as an individual, began to be too much lost 
 sight of in the consideration of man as a citizen ; his 
 uses, his duties, the whole worth and significance of 
 his life, came to be estimated too exclusively by his 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xi.x 
 
 relations to the visible society about him. It was 
 when the great Stoic Chrysippus found himself 
 obliged to stand aloof from all participation in 
 politics — “ For if I counsel honourably I shall offend 
 the citizens, and if basely, the Gods” — that such men as 
 he were led to ask themselves: Is there then any sphere 
 of human endeavour out of the reach of the tyranny 
 of circumstance ? If I cannot be a citizen, what am I 
 worth then simply as a man ? If I can be nothing to 
 my fellows, what can I be to God ? To a state of 
 things, then, which, speaking broadly, made public 
 life impossible to honest men, we owe the noblest 
 ethical system of antiquity ; to the enforced con- 
 centration of thought upon the individual we owe a 
 certain note of universality till then absent from 
 Hellenic thought. 
 
 But Stoicism was not the only product of the 
 speculation of this period. Side by side with it there 
 started into being two other systems of philosophy, 
 the necessity for combating which was doubtless of 
 immense service to its development. These were 
 Epicureanism and Pyrrhonism ; and as the reader 
 will find Epictetus much concerned with each of 
 them, it may be desirable that I should give some 
 brief account of their cardinal doctrines. 
 
 Epicurus was an Athenian. After some residence in 
 Lesbos and Lampsacus, he began to teach in his native 
 
XX 
 
 INTROD UCTJON. 
 
 city about the year 306 B.c. His ethical views, 
 which are all that concern us here, were of a dis- 
 tinctly unelevating nature. Pleasure, was pro- 
 
 nounced to be for each man the end and aim of his 
 being, and the only rational motive of action. This, 
 however, was not the pleasure of the voluptuary — 
 its highest forms, according to Epicurus, were gained 
 in arapa^ia and airovla — that is, a cheerful and 
 unanxious temperament, with leisure for contempla- 
 tion, ends not attainable by the criminal who lives 
 in constant fear of detection, or the luxurious liver 
 in whom satiety produces disgust and weariness. 
 
 Certain bodily conditions were, however, regarded 
 as objects in themselves, and partaking of the nature 
 of the absolutely good ; and all entanglement in 
 human relationships was discountenanced for tlie 
 disturbance and distress which such relationships 
 were liable to cause. These doctrines were put in 
 practice by their teacher in inuring himself to a 
 hermit-like simplicity and abstemiousness of life ; 
 and his life was philosophically consistent with liis 
 doctrines, for it is clear that the end of Pleasure will 
 be most surely gained by him who has fewest wants 
 to gratify. But though the lives of Epicurus and 
 his immediate followers were exceptionally sober and 
 strict, the total effect of his doctrines could not but 
 have been evil. They were purely egoistic in this 
 
INTROD UCTION, 
 
 xxi 
 
 tendency — they centred each man’s activity and 
 interest upon himself alone, they bade him take no 
 thought for any other earthly or heavenly thing, and 
 taught him that this ideal of indifference was realised 
 in its full perfection by the Gods, who dwelt apart in 
 divine repose while blind necessity had its way with 
 human destiny. 
 
 Pyrrho of Elis, a rather earlier teacher than Zeno 
 or Epicurus, who is said to have studied philosophy 
 under Indian Gymnosophists and Chaldean Magi, was 
 the originator in European thought of a great and 
 permanent philosophic movement. His school was 
 inspired by the Geisi der stets verneinty and the term 
 Sceptic was first devised to describe its attitude. Its 
 strength is in a discovery which inevitably takes 
 place when men begin to refiect upon their own 
 mental operations — the discovery, namely, that, given 
 a perceiving mind and a perceived object, it is always 
 possible for the former, if it has the power of 
 introspection, to doubt whether it has received a 
 really true and faithful impression of the latter. Plow 
 can we be assured that external objects are as we 
 perceive them ? How can we even be assured that 
 there is any principle of constancy in their relations 
 to our consciousness ? The senses often delude us ; 
 we are convinced, in dreams, of the reality of 
 appearances which, nevertheless, have no reality — why 
 
XXll 
 
 INTROD UCTION. 
 
 may not all perception be a delusion? Why may not 
 even our sense of the validity of inference and of the 
 truth of the axioms of geometry be a pure hallucina- 
 tion ? With these searching questions the Sceptic cut 
 at the root of all belief, and the problems which they 
 rrdse have dominated philosophy down to the present 
 day. Nor in two thousand years has any logical 
 answer to them ever been found. Lotze, the last 
 thinker of really first-rate powers that the world has 
 seen, practically abandons all inquiry into theories of 
 perception, and starts with the assumption that we 
 are living in a kosmos, not a chaos ; that the order, 
 coherence, reason in things to which consciousness 
 testifies, are realities. In antiquity, I may add, the 
 profound problems raised by Pyrrhonism do not seem 
 to have been very profoundly apprehended either by 
 the Pyrrhonists or their opponents. The latter had 
 nothing better to appeal to than that notoriously 
 feeble resource, the argumentum ad hominem. If 
 the Pyrrhonist distrusted the evidence of his senses, 
 they asked, why did he avoid walking over precipices 
 or into the sea, or eat bread instead of earth, or in 
 any way make choice of means for ends ? The 
 Pyrrhonisms answer was equally superficial. It 
 anticipated the famous formula of Bishop Butler. 
 Probability, argued they, was the guide of life — 
 having observed certain results to follow from certain 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxiii 
 
 antecedents, the prudent man will shape his course 
 in life accordingly, although, as a matter of theory 
 and speculation, he may refuse to believe in the 
 constancy of nature. This answer involves a clear 
 inconsistency. It involves even a greater assumption 
 than that which the Pyrrhonist refused to make as to 
 the credibility of his perceptions— the assumption of 
 the credibility of his recollections. To the thorough- 
 going Sceptic there is no such thing as past experience 
 — he is, as it were, new-born at each instant of his life. 
 
 Such, in outline, were the systems against which 
 the Stoic philosophy had to make good its position in 
 the ancient world. From the first there seems to 
 have been no doubt of its ability to do so, although, 
 unhappily, the records which have been preserved 
 of the teaching of its earliest days are few and 
 obscure. The writings of Zeno, the founder of 
 Stoicism, and of Chrysippus, his immediate successor 
 in the leadership of the school, have utterly perished, 
 while of Cleanthes, the third of the early Stoic 
 teachers, very little remains beyond the profound and 
 majestic Hymn to Zeus, of which I have given a 
 translation in this work. The complete loss of the 
 hundreds of treatises produced by Chrysippus is 
 especially to be regretted, as he appears to have 
 taken the main part in giving shape and system to 
 the Stoic philosophy. ‘^Ilad Chrysippus not been, 
 
xxiy 
 
 INTROD UCTION. 
 
 the Stoa had not been/’ was a proverbial saying 
 which testifies to his fame. However, from the 
 accounts of ancient philosophers in Diogenes Laertius, 
 from Plutarch, Seneca, Cicero, and a few other 
 authorities, we can learn pretty clearly what the 
 framework of the Stoic system had grown to be 
 long before Epictetus began to study it. 
 
 In antiquity, a philosophic system was expected to 
 have something to say for itself on three different 
 branches of study — Logic, Physics (which included 
 cosmogony and theology), and Ethics. We think of 
 the Stoics chiefly in connection with the last-named 
 of these subjects, but they were no less eminent in 
 the others, and Chrysippus, in particular, was held to 
 have done so much for the science of logic that a 
 saying was current — If there were dialectic among 
 the Gods, it must be the dialectic of Chrysippus.’’ Of 
 the Stoic contributions to this science, scarcely any 
 record remains. 
 
 Of their physical system, however, much is known, 
 and the reader of Epictetus needs to be acquainted 
 with its general features. These were borrowed from 
 an earlier thinker, Heracleitus, whose central doctrine 
 was that the universe was an eternal flux and transi- 
 tion ; everything was in a state of becoming, ein 
 Werdendes. At the beginning of things, so far as they 
 can be said to have any beginning, is the Deity in 
 
INTROD UCTION, 
 
 XXV 
 
 his purest manifestation, which, be it observed, is a 
 strictly material one, a sublimated and ethereal fire, 
 aWepioSes irvp. In this fire dwelt the divine creative 
 thought and impulse. The first step in that process 
 of differentiation in which development consists is the 
 production of vapour, which condensed into water. 
 Two elementary forces play their part in these 
 operations — a movement towards within, and a move- 
 ment towards without, the one a densifying, the other 
 an expanding and straining force (rovos). The former 
 gives us solidity in matter, the other the qualities 
 and energies of matter. Thus, by various degrees of 
 density, we get earth, water, atmospheric air, and from 
 air, the common element of earthly fire ; and these 
 elements in their various combinations, with their 
 various attributes and powers, gradually produce the 
 successive stages of organic life. Though all these pro- 
 ceed from the substance of the Divine Being, the Stoics 
 recognised, in the derived substances which make up 
 the universe as we have it now, various degrees of 
 purity, of affinity to their original source. Man’s body, 
 for instance, with its passions and affections, lies 
 comparatively far from the divine ; but his soul is a 
 veritable ray of the primitive fire, Deus in corpore 
 humano hospitans. The popular mythology of the 
 day was entirely rejected by the Stoics, although, as 
 Professor Mahaffy points out, they never attempted to 
 
XXVI 
 
 INTROD UCTION 
 
 discredit orthodoxy,” but, on the contrary, used its 
 myths and ceremonies with the utmost reverence as 
 vehicles of profound religious truths. But they 
 certainly believed in intelligences above man, yet 
 below the one Supreme Being ; thus the stars and the 
 lightning (the reader will observe the allusions in the 
 Hymn of Cleanthes) are in some sense divinities, by 
 virtue of the supposed purity of their fiery essence. 
 
 Thus from the one primitive divine element the 
 Kosmos, with all its hierarchy of being, is evolved. 
 But in the Stoic system irdvra pet,! there is no con- 
 tinuance in any one condition. As in the normal life 
 of all earthly creatures there comes a certain climax 
 or turning point, after which the forces of decay gain 
 slowly but surely on those of growth and resistance, 
 so also runs the history of the universe which 
 includes them all. One by one the steps by which it 
 was formed shall be retraced, and the derived sub- 
 stances which compose it consumed and re-absorbed 
 by that from which they sprang. From matter in its 
 grossest form to its purest, from earth and stone and 
 water to the highest intelligence in men and daemons 
 and Gods, nothing shall escape this doom of disso- 
 lution ; everything shall yield up its separate 
 
 ^ TrdpTa pelf all flows — the cardinal doctrine of the Heracleitean 
 philosophy. 
 
INTROD UCTION, 
 
 XXVll 
 
 existence, until at last the indestructible element 
 o£ that primaeval fire is again the sole being that 
 remains, and Zeus is alone in the conflagration,’’ 
 self-contemplating in the solitudes of thought. But 
 this is not the end. There is no end. The plastic 
 impulse again resumes its sway, and soon another 
 cycle of world-development and world-destruction 
 begins to run its course. In the language of Seneca, 
 “ When that fatal day, that necessity of the times, 
 shall have arrived, and it seems good to God to make 
 an end of old things and ordain the better, then shall 
 the ancient order be revoked and every creature be 
 generated anew, and a race ignorant of guilt be given 
 to the earth.” 
 
 This was the general physical system on which all 
 Stoics were agreed, although there were differences of 
 opinion upon minor points ; such as how far these 
 successive cycles resembled each other ? some asserting 
 that they did so in the minutest detail, others only in 
 their larger features. It was a system, for all its 
 superstitions, not without grandeur and truth. At 
 bottom it expressed a sense of that phenomenon of 
 ebb and flow, systole and diastole, the action and 
 counteraction of balanced forces, which is perhaps the 
 profoundest law of life. 
 
 Two questions arise in connection with the Stoic 
 cosmogony, which we must briefly discuss before 
 
XXVI 11 
 
 INTROD UCTION, 
 
 proceeding farther. Are we justified in terming their 
 view of the universe a materialistic one ? and what 
 was their doctrine of the destinies of the human soul ? 
 Now it is certainly the usual practice among writers 
 on philosophy to reckon the Stoics as materialists, 
 and it is unquestionably true that they denied the 
 possibility of any existence which was not corporeal. 
 Strong as they are on the supremacy of the human 
 soul over the human body, sharp as is the line with 
 which they divide these elements, yet the distinction 
 is a moral, not a metaphysical one — each is an actual 
 material substance. But we shall be seriously mis- 
 taken, nevertheless, if we place them in the same 
 class with the scientific materialists of the present 
 day. According to the latter, Thought is no neces- 
 sary moment in the universe, but merely a product of 
 certain accidental combinations of matter, a product 
 which, when these are dissolved, must disappear from 
 existence, without leaving a trace of its presence 
 behind. Again, according to most modern opponents 
 of the materialistic view. Thought has an independent 
 and immortal being — it existed before matter was, 
 and would continue to exist if all matter were 
 annihilated. The Stoic view differed from each of 
 these modern theories. It held Thought and Matter 
 to be eternal, inseparable, and, indeed, strictly 
 identical. Being in its primitive and purest form 
 
IN TROD UCTION 
 
 XXIX 
 
 was Fire, a corporeal substance, but one exhibiting 
 consciousness, purpose, will. 
 
 As to the question of the Stoic view of the im- 
 mortality of the human soul, it does not seem to me 
 to deserve so much discussion as it has received from 
 some commentators. It is obvious that the soul must, 
 in the end, share the lot of all other existences, and 
 be resolved into the Divine Being which was its 
 source. The only question that can arise is whether 
 this resolution takes place at the moment of death, or 
 whether the sense of personal identity persists for a 
 certain period beyond that event ; and this question, 
 which Epictetus appears to have been wise enough to 
 leave an open one, is philosophically of very little im- 
 portance. The soul is immortal, the individual per- 
 ishes; this is the conclusion of Stoicism, and if we knov/ 
 this, there is little else it can much concern us to know. 
 
 The reader who desires to gain a thorough know- 
 ledge of Hellenistic philosophy, and of the social and 
 political conditions in which it throve, will find what 
 he seeks in two works to which I have to express 
 my large indebtedness. One is Zeller's Philosojphie 
 der Oriechen (Dpikureery Stoiker u. Skeptiker)^, a 
 monument of German research and erudition, in 
 which vast masses of original material for the study 
 
 ^ An English translation of this work has lately appeared. 
 
XXX 
 
 IJNTROD UCTION 
 
 of this most interesting, but neglected, epoch of the 
 development of European intellect have been brought 
 together, and interpreted with more than German 
 lucidity and method. The other is Professor 
 MahafFy’s recent volume, Greek Life and Thought^ a 
 study of the Hellenistic period in various aspects, 
 which the scholar will not read without profit, nor the 
 lay-reader without pleasure. 
 
 We turn now to that department of the Stoic 
 philosophy with which the reader of Epictetus is most 
 concerned — its Ethics. 
 
 The ethical question resolves itself into a search for 
 the supreme object of human endeavour, the Summum 
 Bonum, the absolute and essential good. This, for 
 the Stoic, embodied itself in the formula, “ to live 
 according to Nature.’' But what is Nature ? The 
 will of God, as revealed in the heart and conscience 
 of those who seek to know it, and interpreted through 
 the observation in a reverent and faithful spirit of the 
 facts of life. 
 
 Going into the subject more precisely we find 
 certain criteria of moral truth established, TrpoA^^ets, 
 as they were called, that is, primitive, original con- 
 ceptions, or, as I have rendered them in my transla- 
 tion, “ natural conceptions,” dogmas by which all 
 moral questions can be tried. If we inquire into the 
 source of these TrpoXrjxpeLs, we shall find ourselves 
 
INTROD UCTION. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 mistaken in our disposition to think that the Stoics 
 regarded them as innate ideas. Innate they are not, 
 for the Stoics held the soul at birth to be a tabula 
 rasa, or blank page, which only experience could fill 
 with character and meaning. But as Seneca says in 
 his inquiry, ‘‘ Quomodo ad nos prima boni honestique 
 notitia pervenerit,’’^ although Nature alone could not 
 teach us these things, could not equip us with the 
 knowledge of them before we entered upon life, yet 
 the seeds ’’ of this knowledge she does give us ; the 
 soul of every man has implanted in it a certain 
 aptness or, indeed, necessity to deduce certain uni- 
 versal truths from such observation and experience as 
 are common to all mankind; and these truths, the 
 7rpoXrj\l/€Ls, though not strictly innate, have thus an 
 inevitableness and dogmatic force not possessed by 
 those which one man may reach and another miss in 
 the exercise of the ordinary faculties, by argument, 
 study, and so forth. By these natural conceptions 
 the existence and character of God, and the general 
 decrees of the moral law, are considered to be affirmed. 
 If we inquire further how the Stoic explained the fact 
 that some of these so-called inevitable and universal 
 conclusions are denied in all sincerity by men like 
 Epicurus, who were neither bad nor mad, we strike 
 
 Ep. 120. 4. flf. 
 
XXXll 
 
 INTROD UCTIOK 
 
 upon the difSculty which confronts all systems that 
 aim at setting up any absolute body of truth, 
 expressible in human language, in place of that 
 partial, progressive, and infinitely varied revelation 
 of God’s mind and purpose to which the uncoloured 
 facts of the world’s religious history seem to testify. 
 
 The natural conceptions, as I have said, contain the 
 primary doctrines of ethics. None of these are more 
 important for the Stoic than that which declares 
 essential Good to lie in the active, not the passive side 
 of man ; in the will, not in the flesh, nor in anything 
 else which the will is unable to control. But a 
 certain relative and conditional goodness may lie in 
 matters which are yet of no moment to the spiritual 
 man, to that part of him which seeks the essential 
 good. And we must note that when Epictetus speaks 
 of certain things as good or bad or indifferent, he is 
 generally speaking of them in their relation to the 
 spiritual man, and in the most absolute and uncon- 
 ditional sense. No evil can happen to the essential 
 part of man, to that side of him which is related to 
 the eternal and divine, without his own will. Hence 
 the death of a beloved friend, or child, or wife, is no 
 evil ; and if it be no evil, we are forbidden to grieve 
 for it, or, in the most usual phrase with Epictetus, 
 we are not to be troubled or confounded by it, 
 rapdo-cre&Oai, But if this utterance should shock our 
 
INTROD UCTION. xxxiii 
 
 natural feelings, it will do something which assuredly 
 Epictetus never meant it to do. It is the soul of man 
 which these events cannot injure, and it is the soul 
 which is forbidden to think itself injured by them. 
 Such love of the individual as may be embraced in the 
 larger love of the All, of God — such grief for bereave- 
 ments and calamities as does not overwhelm the inner 
 man (ii. 19) in a ‘‘ wave of mortal tumult,” and dull 
 his vital sense of the great moral ends which he was 
 born to pursue, is repeatedly and explicitly admitted 
 by Epictetus. Thus, in hi. 2, we have him arguing 
 against Epicurus that there are certain natural 
 sympathies between man and his kind, and even 
 convicting Epicurus himself of a secret belief in these 
 sympathies. Epicurus had dissuaded his followers 
 from marriage, and the bringing-up of children, on 
 account of the grief and anxiety which such relations 
 necessarily entail. Not so the Stoics — they pressed 
 their disciples to enter into the ordinary earthly rela- 
 tionships of husband, or wife, or citizen, and this 
 without pretending to have found any means of avert- 
 ing the natural consequences which Epicurus dreaded, 
 although they did profess to have discovered some- 
 thing in man which made him equal to the endurance 
 of them. Again, although the condition of airdOeia of 
 inward peace, of freedom from passions, is again and 
 again represented by Epictetus as the mark of the 
 
XXXIV 
 
 INTRO D UCTION. 
 
 perfect sage, we are told that this dirddua is something 
 quite different from apathy ” — a man is not to 
 be emotionless ‘‘ like a statue.” And a third passage 
 confirming this view is to be found in Book L, ch. 
 xi. (Schweighauser), where the conduct of a man who 
 was so afflicted by the illness of his little daughter 
 that he ran away from the house, and would hear 
 news of her only through messages, is condemned, 
 not for the affection and anxiety it proved, but for 
 its utter unreasonableness. Would you,” asks 
 Epictetus, have her mother and her nurse and 
 her pedagogue, who all love her too, also run away 
 from her, and leave her to die in the hands of persons 
 who neither love nor care for her at all ? ” There is 
 a grief which is really a self-indulgence, a barren, 
 absorbing, paralysing grief, which, to the soul pos- 
 sessed by it, makes every other thing in heaven and 
 earth seem strange and cold and trivial. From such 
 grief alone Epictetus would deliver us, and I think he 
 would have accepted Mr. Aubrey de Yere’s noble 
 sonnet on Sorrow as a thoroughly fit poetic statement 
 of Stoic doctrine on this subject: — 
 
 “ Count each affliction, whether light or grave, 
 
 God^s messenger sent down to thee ; do thou 
 With courtesy receive him ; rise and bow ; 
 
 And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave 
 Permission first his heavenly feet to lave ; 
 
INTROD UCTION, 
 
 XXXY 
 
 Then lay before him all thou hast, allow 
 No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow. 
 
 Or mar thy hospitality ; no wave 
 
 Of mortal tumult to obliterate 
 
 The souPs marmoreal calmness : Grief should be 
 
 Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate ; 
 
 Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free ; 
 
 Strong to consume small troubles ; to commend 
 Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to 
 the end.’^ 
 
 But the grief that shall do this is a grief that must be 
 fdt And Epictetus assuredly never meant to offer 
 the Stoic philosophy as a mere stupefying anodyne. 
 Make the man a Stoic, and something yet remains to 
 do — to make the Stoic a man. One of these purposes 
 was not more the concern of Epictetus than the other. 
 And he pursued both of them with a strength, 
 sincerity, and sanity of thought, with a power of 
 nourishing the heroic fibre in humanity, which, to 
 my mind, make him the very chief of Pagan 
 moralists. 
 
 It is no purpose of mine to fill this preface with 
 information which the reader can gain without doubt 
 or difllculty from the author whom it introduces, and 
 therefore I shall leave him to discover for himself 
 what the positive ethical teaching of Epictetus was 
 like. Nor is it, unhappily, possible to say much upon 
 
XXXVl 
 
 INTRQD UCTION. 
 
 another subject on which Epictetus gives us little or 
 no information — his own life and circumstances. 
 Arrian wrote a biography of him, but it is now 
 entirely lost, and the biographical details which have 
 been collected from Simplicius, Suidas, Aulus Gellius, 
 and others are very scanty. He was born at 
 Hierapolis, in Phrygia, and became, how is unknown, 
 a slave of Epaphroditus, a freedman and favourite of 
 Nero, who is recorded to have treated him wdth great 
 cruelty. One day, it is said, Epaphroditus began 
 twisting his leg for amusement. Epictetus said, “ If 
 you go on you will break my leg.'" Epaphroditus 
 persisted, the leg was broken, and Epictetus, with 
 unruffled serenity, only said, Did I not tell you 
 that you would break my leg ? This circum- 
 stance is adduced by Celsus in his famous 
 controversy with Origen as an instance of Pagan 
 fortitude equal to anything which^ Christian mar- 
 tyrology had to show;^ but it is probably a mere 
 myth which grew up to account for the fact men- 
 tioned by Simplicius and Suidas that Epictetus was 
 feeble in body and lame from an early age. 
 
 Epaphroditus was probably a very bad master, and 
 as a favourite and intimate of Nero’s, must have been 
 
 ^ Gregory Nazianzen, commenting on this narrative, remarks that 
 it only shows how manfully unavoidahU sufferings may be borne. 
 
INTRO D UCTION 
 
 XXXVll 
 
 a bad man ; but we have to thank him ’for the fact 
 that Epictetus, while yet a slave, was sent to 
 attend the philosophic lectures of Musonius Eufus, an 
 eminent Stoic of Kome, whom both Epictetus and 
 Marcus Aurelius mention with great respect. The 
 system of philosophic training had been at this time 
 long organised. There were masters of repute every- 
 where, who delivered their instruction in regular 
 courses, received a fixed payment for the same, and 
 under whom crowds of young men assembled from 
 far and near to study science and ethics — to receive, 
 in short, what corresponded to a university education 
 in those days. The curious circumstance that a slave 
 like Epictetus could participate in advantages of this 
 kind is generally explained as the result of a fashion- 
 able whim which possessed Eoman nobles at this 
 time for having philosophers and men of culture 
 among their slaves. Professor MahafFy, in his Greek 
 Life and Thought (p. 132), commenting on the 
 summons of the two philosophers, Anaxarchus and 
 Callisthenes, to console Alexander after his murder of 
 Cleitus, observes that it was probably usual to call in 
 philosophers to minister professionally in cases of 
 affliction. From this, to making a philosopher a 
 regular adjunct to a large household, even as 
 the baron of later times kept a fool, the step 
 is not great. But Epapliroditus, one tliinks, must 
 
xxxviii 
 
 INTROD UCTION, 
 
 have had frequent reason to rue the choice he made 
 in Epictetus, if he expected his domestic philosopher 
 to excuse his misdeeds as Anaxarchus did those of 
 Alexander on the occasion above mentioned. 
 
 In the year 94 A.D. the emperor Domitian issued 
 a decree expelling all philosophers from Eome — an 
 easil}^ explainable proceeding on his part if there 
 were any large number of them who, in the words of 
 Epictetus, were able to look tyrants steadily in the 
 face.^’ Epictetus must have by this time obtained his 
 freedom and set up for himself as a professor of 
 philosophy, for we find him, in consequence of this 
 ^ decree, betaking himself to Nicopolis, a city of Epirus. 
 Here he lived and taught to a venerable age, and 
 here he delivered the discourses which Arrian has 
 reported for us. He lived with great simplicity, and 
 is said to have had no servant or other inmate of his 
 house until he hired a nurse for an infant which was 
 about to be exposed, according to the practice of those 
 days when it was desired to check the inconvenient 
 growth of a family, and which Epictetus rescued 
 and brought up. The date of his death is unknown. 
 
 And now, reader, I will take my leave of you with 
 Arrian’s farewell salutation to Lucius Gellius, which, 
 literally translated, is Be strong. If you need it, I 
 know no teacher better able to make or keep 
 you so than Epictetus. At any rate, to give him a faiy 
 
INTROD UCTION, 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 chance of doing what it is in him to do for English- 
 speaking men and women is something I have re- 
 garded as a sort of duty, a discharge of obligation for 
 his infinite service to myself ; which done to the 
 utmost of my powers, the fewest forewords are 
 the best. 
 
 T, W. K 
 
CLEANTHES’ HYMN TO ZEUS.^ 
 
 Most glorious of the Immortals, many named, Almighty for 
 ever. 
 
 Zeus, ruler of Nature, that governest all things with law. 
 
 Hail ! for lawful it is that all mortals should address Thee. 
 
 For we are Thy offspring, taking the image only of Thy 
 voice, 2 as many mortal things as live and move upon 
 the earth. 
 
 Therefore will I hymn Thee, and sing Thy might forever. 
 
 For Thee doth all this universe that circles round the earth 
 obey, moving whithersoever Thou leadest, and is gladly 
 swayed by Thee, 
 
 Such a minister hast Thou in Thine invincible hands -the 
 two-edged, blazing, imperishable thunderbolt. 
 
 For under its stroke all Nature shuddereth, and by it thou 
 guidest aright the Universal Reason, that roams 
 through all things, mingling itself with the greater and 
 the lesser lights, till it have grown so great, and 
 become supreme king over all. 
 
 Nor is aught done on the earth without Thee, O God, nor 
 in the divine sphere of the heavens, nor in the sea, 
 
 Save the works that evil men do in their folly — 
 
 Yea, but Thou knowest even to find a place for super- 
 fluous things, and to order that which is disorderly, 
 and things not dear to men are dear to Thee. 
 
 ^ See notes on the Hymn of Cleanthes. 
 
 537 
 
2 
 
 CLEANTHES^ HYMN TO ZEUS. 
 
 Thus dost Thou harmonise into One all good and evil 
 things, that there should be one everlasting Reason of 
 them all. 
 
 And this the evil among mortal men avoid and heed not ; 
 wretched, ever desiring to possess the good, yet they 
 nor see nor hear the universal Law of God, which 
 obeying with all their heart, their life would be well. 
 
 But they rush graceless each to his own aim. 
 
 Some cherishing lust for fame, the nurse of evil strife, 
 
 Some bent on monstrous gain. 
 
 Some turned to folly and the sweet works of the flesh. 
 
 Hastening, indeed, to bring the very contrary of these 
 things to pass. 
 
 But Thou, O Zeus, the All-giver, Dweller in the darkness 
 of cloud. Lord of thunder, save Thou men from their 
 unhappy folly. 
 
 Which do Thou, O Father, scatter from their souls ; and 
 give them to discover the wisdom, in whose assurance 
 Thou governest all things with justice ; 
 
 So that being honoured, they may pay Thee honour. 
 
 Hymning Thy works continually, as it beseems a mortal 
 man. 
 
 Since there can be no greater glory for men or Gods than 
 this, 
 
 Duly to praise for ever the Universal Law. 
 
THE TEACHING OF EPICTETUS- 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 1. WoULDST thou be good, then first believe that 
 thou art evil. 
 
 2. The beginning of philosophy, at least with those 
 who lay hold of it as they ought and enter by the 
 door,^ is the consciousness of their own feebleness and 
 incapacity in respect of necessary things. 
 
 3. For we come into the world having by nature 
 no idea of a right-angled triangle, or a quarter-tone, 
 or a semi-tone, but by a certain tradition of art we 
 learn each of these things. And thus those who 
 know them not, do not suppose that they know them. 
 But good and evil, and nobleness and baseness, and 
 the seemly and the unseemly, and happiness and mis- 
 fortune, and what is our concern and what is not, and 
 
 ^ See NoteSf Bk. L, ch. i. 1. The small numerals in the text refer 
 throughout to the Notes at the end of the volume ; each chapter 
 having, where notes are necessary, its own chapter of Notes. 
 
4 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 what ought to be done and what not — who hath 
 come into the world without an implanted notion of 
 these things ? Thus we all use these terms, and 
 endeavour to fit our natural conceptions to every 
 several thing. He did well, Tightly, not rightly, he 
 failed, he succeeded, he is unrighteous, he is righteous 
 — which of us spareth to use terms like these ? 
 Which of us will defer the use of them till he hath 
 learned them, even as ignorant men do not use terms 
 of geometry or music ? But this is the reason of it : 
 we come into the world already, as it were, taught by 
 Nature some things in this kind, and setting out 
 from these things we have added thereto our own 
 conceit.^ For how, saith one, do I not know what is 
 noble and what is base ? Have I not the notion of it ? 
 Truly. And do I not a'pply it to things severally ? 
 You do apply it. Do I not, then, a^jply it rightly ? 
 But here lies the whole question, and here conceit 
 entereth in. For setting out from things confessed 
 by all they go on by a false application to that which 
 is disputed. For if, in addition to those things, they 
 had gained also this power of application, what would 
 then hinder them to be perfect ? But now since you 
 think that you apply rightly the natural, concep- 
 tions to things severally, tell me, whence have you 
 this assurance ? 
 
 Because it seems so to me.” 
 
 But to another it seems otherwise — and he, too, 
 doth he think his application right or not ? 
 
 ‘‘ He doth think it.” 
 
 Can ye, then, both be rightly applying the con- 
 
THE BEGINNING OF FHILOSOFHY. 
 
 5 
 
 ceptions in matters wherein your opinions contradict 
 each other. 
 
 We cannot.” 
 
 Have you, then, aught better to show for your 
 application, or aught above this, that it seemeth so to 
 you ? But what else doth a madman do, than those 
 things that to him seem right ? And doth this rule 
 suffice for him ? 
 
 “ It doth not suf&ce.” 
 
 Come, then, to that which is above seeming. What 
 is this ? 
 
 4. Behold, the beginning of philosophy is the obser- 
 vation of how men contradict each other, and the search 
 whence cometh this contradiction, and the censure 
 and mistrust of bare opinion. And it is an inquiry 
 into that which seems, whether it rightly seems ; and 
 the discovery of a certain rule, even as we have found 
 a balance for weights, and a plumb line for straight 
 and crooked. This is the beginning of philosophy. 
 Are all things right to all to whom they seem so ? 
 But how can contradictory things be right ? 
 
 - — Nay, then, not all things, but those that seem to 
 us right.” 
 
 And why to you more than the Syrians, or to the 
 Egyptians ? Why more than to me or to any 
 other man. Not at all more. Seeming, then, 
 doth not for every man answer to Being ; for 
 neither in weights or measures doth the bare 
 appearance content us, but for each case we have 
 discovered some rule. And here, then, is there no 
 rule above seeming ? And how could it be that 
 
6 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 there were no evidence or discovery of things the 
 most necessary for men ? There is, then, a rule. And 
 wherefore do we not seek it, and find it, and, having 
 found it, henceforth use it "without transgression, and 
 not so much as stretch forth a finder without it ? 
 For this it is, I think, that when it is discovered 
 cureth of their madness those that mismeasure all 
 things by seeming alone ; so that henceforth, setting 
 out from things known and investigated, we may use 
 an organised body of natural conceptions in all our 
 several dealings. 
 
 5. What is the subject about which we are inquir- 
 ing ? Pleasure ? Submit it to the rule, cast it into 
 the scales. Now the Good must be a thing of such sort 
 that we ought to trust in it ? Truly. And we 
 ought to have faith in it ? We ought And ought 
 we to trust in anything which is unstable ? Nay. 
 And hath pleasure any stability ? It hath not. 
 Take it then, and fling it out of the scales, and set it 
 far away from the place of the Good. But if you are 
 dim of sight, and one balance doth not suffice, then 
 take another. Is it right to be elated in what is 
 good ? Yea. And is it right to be elated then in the 
 presence of a pleasure ? See to it that thou say not 
 it is right ; or I shall not hold thee worthy even 
 of the balance.^ Thus are things judged and weighed, 
 when the rules are held in readiness. And the aim 
 of philosophy is this, to examine and establish the 
 rules. And to use them when they are known is the 
 task of an wise and good man. 
 
ON THE NATURAL CONCEPTIONS. 
 
 7 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ON THE NAT HEAL CONCEPTIONS. 
 
 1. The natural conceptions are common to all men, 
 and one cannot contradict another. For which of us 
 but affirms that the Gdod is profitable, and that we 
 should choose it, and in all circumstances follow and 
 pursue it ? Which of us but affirms that uprightness 
 is honourable and becoming ? Where, then, doth the 
 contradiction arise ? Concerning the application of 
 the natural conceptions to things severally. When 
 one saith. He did well, he is a worthy man, and 
 another. Nay, hat he did foolishly, then there is a 
 contradiction among men, one with another. And 
 there is the same contradiction among the Jews and 
 the Syrians and the Egyptians and the Romans ; not 
 whether that which is righteous should be preferred to 
 all things and in all cases pursued, but whether this 
 be righteous or unrighteous, to eat the fiesh of swine. 
 And ye can discover the same contradiction in the 
 matter of Achilles and Agamemnon. For call them 
 before us : What sayest thou, Agamemnon, Should not 
 that which is right and fair come to pass ? 
 
 That should it.” 
 
 And what sayest thou, Achilles, Doth it not please 
 thee that what is fair and right should be done ? 
 
 “ Of all things this doth most please me.” 
 
 Then make application of your natural conceptions. 
 Whence arose this dispute ? The one saith : 1 am 
 
8 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 not hound to deliver up Ghryseis to her father. And 
 the other saith : Thou art hound. Assuredly one of 
 them must ill apply the conception of duty. And 
 again the one saith : Therefore if I should deliver up 
 Ghryseis, it is meet that I take his prize from one of 
 you. And the other : Wouldst thou, then, take from 
 me my beloved ? He saith : Yea, even thine. And 
 shall I alone, and I alone, have nothing ? And thus 
 ariseth the contradiction. 
 
 2. What is it, then, to be educated ? It is to learn to 
 apply the natural conceptions to each thing severally 
 according to nature ; and further, to discern that of 
 things that exist some are in our own power^ and the 
 rest are not in our own power. And things that are 
 in our own power are the will, and all the works of 
 the will. And things that are not in our own 
 power are the body, and the parts of the body, 
 and possessions and parents and brethren and chil- 
 dren and country and, in a word, our associates. 
 Where now shall we place the Good? To what 
 objects shall we apply it ? To those which are in our 
 own power ? Then is health not good, and whole 
 limbs and life ? and are not children and parents and 
 country ? And who will bear with you if you say 
 this ? Let us, then, transfer it to these things. Now, 
 can one be happy who is injured, and has missed 
 gaining what is good ? He cannot. And can such a 
 one bear himself towards his fellows as he ought ? 
 How is it possible that he should ? For I have it of 
 nature that I must seek my own profit. If it profits 
 me to own a piece of land, it profits me to take it from 
 
THE MASTER-FACULTY. 
 
 9 
 
 my neighbour. If it profits me to have a garment, it 
 profits me to steal it from the bath. And hence wars, 
 seditions, tyrannies, conspiracies. And how shall 
 I be able to maintain a right mind towards God ? 
 for if I sufier injury and misfortune, it cannot be 
 but He neglects me. And what have I to do with 
 Him if He cannot help me ? And, again, what have 
 I to do with Him if he is willing to let me continue 
 in the evils in which I am ? Henceforth I begin to 
 hate Him. Why, then, do we build temples and set 
 up statues to Zeus as we do to powers of evil, such as 
 Fever And how is He now the Saviour and the 
 Raingiver and the Fruitgiver ? And verily, all this 
 follows, if we place anywhere in external things the 
 nature and being of the Good. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE MASTER-FACULTY. 
 
 1. Of all our faculties ye shall find but one that 
 can contemplate itself, or, therefore, approve or 
 disapprove itself. How far hath grammar the power 
 of contemplation ? Only so far as to judge concern- 
 ing letters. And music ? Only so far as to judge 
 concerning melodies. Doth any of them, then, con- 
 template itself ? Not one. But when you have need 
 to write to your friend, grammar will tell you how to 
 
TO 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 write ; but whether to write or not, grammar will not 
 tell. And so with the musical art in the case of 
 melodies ; but whether it is now meet or not to sing 
 or to play, music will not tell. What, then, will tell 
 it ? That faculty which both contemplates itself and 
 all other things. And what is this ? It is the faculty 
 of Reason ; for we have received none other which 
 can consider itself — what it is, and what it can, and 
 what it is worth — and all the other faculties as well. 
 For what else is it that tells us that a golden thing is 
 beautiful, since itself doth not ? Clearly it is the 
 faculty which makes use of appearances. What else 
 is it that judges of music and grammar, and the other 
 faculties, and proves their uses, and shows the fit 
 occasions ? None else than this. 
 
 2. Thus the Gods, as it was fit they should, place 
 that only in our power which is the mightiest and 
 master thing, the right use of appearances ; but other 
 things are not in our power. Was it that they did 
 not wish it ? I indeed think that had they been able 
 they had made over to us those things also ; but this 
 they could in no way do. For being on the earth, and 
 bound up with this flesh and with these associates, 
 how was it possible that as regards these we should 
 not be hindered by external things ? But what saith 
 Zeus ? Epictetus, if it were possible, I would have 
 made both this thy little body and thy little property 
 free and unhampered. But forget not now that this 
 is but finely tempered clay, and nothing of thine 
 own. And since I could not do this, I have given 
 thee a part of ourselves, this power of desiring and 
 
THE MASTER-FACULTY, ii 
 
 disliking, and pursuing, avoiding, and rejecting, and, 
 in brief, the use of appearances. Have a care, then, of 
 this, hold this only for thine own, and thou ,shalt 
 never be hindered or hampered, thou shalt not lament, 
 thou shalt not blame, thou shalt never flatter any 
 man.^' What then ? Do these seem trifling matters ? 
 God forbid. Are you, then, not content with them ? 
 At least I pray the Gods I may he,^ 
 
 3. But now having one thing in our power to care 
 for, and to cleave to, we rather choose to be careful of 
 many things, and to bind ourselves to many things, 
 even to the flesh, and to possessions, and to brother 
 and friend and child and slave. And being thus 
 bound to many things, they lie heavy on us and drag 
 us down. So, if the weather be not fair for sailing, 
 we sit down distraught and are ever peering forth to 
 see how stands the wind. It is north. And what is 
 that to us ? When will the west wind blow ? When 
 it shall seem good to it, friend ; or to Aeolus. For it 
 was not thee, but Aeolus whom God made steward 
 of the winds.’’^ What then ? It is right to d'ovise 
 how we may perfect the things that are our own^^ 
 and to use the others as their nature is. And what, 
 then, is their nature ? As it may please God. 
 
12 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE NATUEE OF THE GOOD. 
 
 1. The subject for the good and wise man is his own 
 master-faculty, as the body is for the physician and 
 the trainer, and the soil is the subject for the hus- 
 bandman. And the work of the good and wise man 
 is to use appearances according to Nature. For it is 
 the nature of every soul to consent to what is good 
 and to reject what is evil, and to hold back about 
 what is uncertain ; and thus to be moved to pursue 
 the good and to avoid the evil, and neither way 
 towards what is neither good nor evil. For as it is 
 not lawful for the money-changer or the seller of 
 herbs to reject Csesar’s coin, but if one present it, 
 then, whether he will or no, he must give up what is 
 sold for it, so it is also with the soul. When the Good 
 appears, straightway the soul is moved towards it, and 
 from the Evil. And never doth the soul reject any 
 clear appearance of the good, no more than Ca3saPs 
 coin. On this hangeth every movement both of God 
 and man. 
 
 2. The nature and essence of the Good is in a cer- 
 tain disposition of the Will ; likewise that of the Evil. 
 What, then, are outward things ? Matter for the Will, 
 about which being occupied it shall attain its own 
 good or evil How shall it attain the Good ? Through 
 not being dazzled with admiration of what it works 
 on.i For our opinions of this, when right, make the 
 
THE NATURE OF THE GOOD, 
 
 13 
 
 will right, and when wrong make it evil. This law 
 hath God established, and saith, thou wouldst 
 have aught of good, have it from thyself.” 
 
 8. If these things are true (and if we are not fools 
 or hypocrites), that Good, for man, lies in the Will, 
 and likewise Evil, and all other things are nothing 
 to us, why are we still troubled ? why do we fear ? 
 The things for which we have been zealous are in 
 no other man’s power ; and for the things that are 
 in others’ power we are not concerned. What 
 difficulty have we now ? But direct me, sayest thou. 
 And why shall I direct thee ? hath not God directed 
 thee ? hath He not given thee that wffiich is thine 
 own unhindered and unhampered, and hindered and 
 hampered that which is not thine own ? And what 
 direction, what word of command didst thou receive 
 from Him when thou earnest thence ? Hold 
 fast everj^thing which is thine own — covet not 
 that which is alien to thee. And faithfulness is 
 thine, and reverence is thine : who, then, can rob 
 thee of these things ? who can hinder thee to use 
 them, if not thyself ? But thyself can do it, and 
 how ? When thou art zealous about things not 
 thine own, and hast cast away the things that are.” 
 With such counsels and commands from Zeus, what 
 wilt thou still from me ? Am I greater than he ? 
 am I more worthy of thy faith ? But if thou hold 
 to these things, of what others hast thou need ? 
 But 'perchance these are none of his commands? 
 Then bring forward the natural conceptions, bring 
 the proofs of the philosophers, bring the things thou 
 
14 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 hast often heard, bring the things that thyself hast 
 spoken, bring what thou hast read, bring what thou 
 hast pondered. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE PROMISE OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 1. Of things that exist, some are in our own power, 
 some are not in our own power. Of things that are 
 in our own power are our opinions, impulses, pursuits, 
 avoidances, and, in brief, all that is of our own doing. 
 Of things that are not in our own power are the body, 
 possessions, reputation, authority, and, in brief, all 
 that is not of our own doing. And the things that 
 are in our own power are in their nature free, not 
 liable to hindrance or embarrassment, while the 
 things that are not in our own power are strengthless, 
 servile, subject, alien. 
 
 2. Remember, then, if you hold things by their nature 
 subject to be free, and things alien to be your proper 
 concern, you will be hampered, you will lament, you 
 will be troubled, you will blame Gods and men. 
 But if you hold that only to be your own which is so, 
 and the alien for what it is, alien, then none shall 
 ever compel you, none shall hinder you, you will 
 blame no one, accuse no one, you will not do the least 
 thing unwillingly, none shall harm you, you shall 
 have no foe, for you shall suffer no injurjL 
 
THE IV A Y OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ^5 
 
 3. Aiming, then, at things so high, remember that it 
 is no moderate passion wherewith you must attempt 
 them, but some things you must utterly renounce, 
 and put some, for the present, aside. For if, let us 
 say, you aim also at this, to rule and to gather riches, 
 then you are like, through aiming at the chief things 
 also, to miss these lower ends ; and shall most 
 assuredly miss those others, through which alone 
 freedom and happiness are won. Straightway, then, 
 practise saying to every harsh appearance — Thou art 
 an Appearance and not at all the thing thou appear esi 
 to he. Then examine it, and prove it by the rules you 
 have, but first and above all by this, whether it 
 concern something that is in our own power, or some- 
 thing that is not in our own power. And if the 
 latter, then be the thought at hand : It is nothing 
 to Me, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE WAY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 1. A CERTAIN Roman having entered with his son 
 and listened to one lecture, “ This,” said Epictetus, 
 “ is the manner of teaching ; ” and he was silent. But 
 when the other prayed him to continue, he spake as 
 follows : — 
 
 Every art is wearisome, in the learning of it, to 
 the untaught and unskilled. Yet things that are 
 
i6 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 iimde by the arts immediately declare their use, and 
 for what they were made, and in most of them is 
 something attractive and pleasing. And thus when a 
 shoemaker is learning his trade it is no pleasure to 
 stand by and observe him, but the shoe is useful, and 
 moreover not unpleasing to behold. And the learning 
 of a carpenter’s trade is very grievous to an untaught 
 person who happens to be present, but the work done 
 declares the need of the art. But far more is this 
 seen in music, for if you are by where one is learning, 
 it will appear the most painful of all instructions ; 
 but that which is produced by the musical art is 
 sweet and delightful to hear, even to those who are 
 untaught in it. And here we conceive the work of 
 one who studies philosophy to be some such thing, 
 that he must fit his desire to all events, so that 
 nothing may come to pass against our will, nor may 
 aught fail to come to pass that we wish for. Whence 
 it results to those who so order it, that they never 
 fail to obtain what they would, nor to avoid what 
 they would not, living, as regards themselves, without 
 pain, fear, or trouble ; and as regards their fellows, 
 observing all the relations, natural and acquired ; as 
 son or father, or brother or citizen, or husband or 
 wife, or neighbour or fellow-traveller, or prince or 
 subject. Such we conceive to be the work of one who 
 pursues philosophy. And next we must inquire how 
 this may come about. 
 
 2. We see, then, that the carpenter becomes a car- 
 penter by learning something, and by learning some- 
 thing the pilot becomes a pilot. And here also is it 
 
THE WA Y OF PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 I? 
 
 not on this wise ? Is it enough that we merely wish 
 to become good and wise, or must we not also learn 
 something ? We inquire, then, what we have to learn. 
 
 3. The philosphers say that, before all things, it is 
 needful to learn that God is, and taketh thought for 
 all things; and that nothing can be hid from him, 
 neither deeds, nor even thoughts or wishes. There- 
 after, of what nature the Gods are. For whatever 
 they are found to be, he who would please and serve 
 them must strive, with all his might, to be like 
 unto them. If the Divine is faithful, so must he be 
 faithful ; if free, so must he be free ; if beneficent, so 
 must he be beneficent ; if high-minded, so must he be 
 high-minded ; so that thus emulating God, he shall 
 both do and speak the things that follow therefrom.^ 
 
 4. Whence, then, shall we make a beginning ? If 
 you will consider this with me, I shall say, first, that 
 you must attend to the sense of words.^ 
 
 ‘‘ So I do not now understand them ? 
 
 You do not. 
 
 How, then, do I use them ? 
 
 As the unlettered use written words, or as cattle use 
 appearances ; for the use is one thing and understand- 
 ing another. But if you think you understand, then 
 take any word you will,^ and let us try ourselves, 
 whether we understand it. But it is hateful to be 
 confuted, for a man now old, and one who, perhaps, 
 hath served his three campaigns ? And I too know this. 
 For you have come to me now as one who lacketh 
 nothing. And what could you suppose to be lacking 
 to you ? Wealth have you, and children, and it may 
 
 538 
 
i8 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 be a wife, and many servants ; Caesar knows you, you 
 have won many friends in Rome, you give every man 
 his due, you reward with good him that doeth good to 
 you, and wdth evil him that doeth evil. What is still 
 lacking to you ? If, now, I shall show you that you 
 lack the greatest and most necessary things for 
 happiness, and that to this day you have cared for 
 everything rather than for what behoved you ; and if 
 I crown all and say that you know not what God is 
 nor what man is, nor Good nor Evil ; — and what I say 
 of other things is perhaps endurable, but if I say you 
 know not your own self, how can you endure me, and 
 bear the accusation, and abide here ? Never — but 
 straightway you will go away in anger. And yet 
 what evil have I done you ? Unless the mirror doth 
 evil to the ill-favoured man, when it shows him to 
 himself such as he is, and unless the physician is 
 thought to affront the sick man when he may say to 
 him : Man, dost thon think ihoii ailest nothing ? Thou 
 hast a fever : fast to-day and drink water. And 
 none saith. What an affront. But if one shall say to 
 a man : Thy pursuits are inflamed, thine avoidances 
 are mean, thy purposes are lawless, thy impulses 
 accord not with nature, thine opinions are vain and 
 lying — straightway he goeth forth and saith. He 
 affronted me. 
 
 5. We follow our business as in a great fair. Cattle 
 and oxen are brought to be sold; and the greater 
 part of the men come some to buy, some to sell; 
 and few are they who come for the spectacle of 
 the fair, — how it comes to pass, and wherefore, and 
 
THE WAY OF PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 19 
 
 who are they who have established it, and to what 
 end. And so it is here, too, in this assembly of life. 
 Some, indeed, like cattle, concern themselves with 
 nothing but fodder ; even such as those that care for 
 possessions and lands and servants and offices, for 
 these are nothing more than fodder. But few are 
 they who come to the fair for love of the spectacle, 
 what the world is and by whom it is governed. By 
 no one ? And how is it possible that a state or a 
 house cannot endure, no not for the shortest time, 
 without a governor and overseer, but this so great 
 and fair fabric should be guided thus orderly by 
 chance and accident ? There is, then, one who 
 governs. But what is his nature ? and how doth he 
 govern ? and we,' that were made by him, what are 
 we* and for what are we ? or have we at least some 
 intercourse and link with him, or have we none ? 
 Thus it is that these few are moved, and thenceforth 
 study this alone, to learn about the fair, and to 
 depart. What then ? they are mocked by the multi- 
 tude. And in the fair, too, the observers are mocked 
 by the traders ; and had the cattle any reflection they 
 would mock all those who cared for anything else 
 than fodder. 
 
20 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TO THE LEARNER. 
 
 1. Remember that pursuit declares the aim of attain- 
 ing the thing pursued, and avoidance that of not 
 falling into the thing shunned ; and he who fails 
 in his pursuit is unfortunate, and it is misfortune to 
 fall into what he would avoid. If now you shun 
 only those things in your power which are contrary 
 to Nature, you shall never fall into what you would 
 avoid. But if you shun disease or death or poverty, 
 you shall have misfortune. 
 
 2. Turn away, then, your avoidance from things not 
 in our power, and set it upon things contrary to Nature 
 which are in our power. And let pursuit for the 
 present be utterly effaced ; for if you are pursuing 
 something that is not in our power, it must needs be 
 that you miscarry, and of things that are, as many as 
 you may rightly aim at, none are yet open to you. 
 But use only desire and aversion, and that indeed 
 lightly, and with reserve, and indifferently. 
 
 3. No great thing cometh suddenly into being, for 
 not even a bunch of grapes can, or a fig. If you say 
 to me now : I desire a fig, I answer that there is need 
 of time : let it first of all fiower, and then bring forth 
 the fruit, and then ripen. When the fruit of a fig-tree 
 is not perfected at once, and in a single hour, would 
 you win the fruit of a man's mind thus quickly and 
 easily ? Even if I say to you, expect it not. 
 
TO THE LEARNER, 
 
 2T 
 
 4. To fulfil the promise of a man’s nature is itself 
 no common thing. For what is a man ? A living 
 creature^ say you ; mortal, and endowed with Reason, 
 And from what are we set apart by Reason ? From 
 the wild beasts. And what others ? From sheep 
 and the like. Look to it, then, that thou do nothing 
 like a wild beast, for if thou do, the man in thee 
 perisheth, thou hast not fulfilled his promise. 
 Look to it, that thou do nothing like a sheep, or 
 thus too the man hath perished. What, then, can 
 tue do as sheep ? When we are gluttonous, sensual, 
 reckless, filthy, thoughtless, to what are we then 
 sunken ? To sheep. What have we lost ? Our 
 faculty of Reason. And when we are contentious, and 
 hurtful, and angry and violent, to what are we 
 sunken ? To wild beasts. And for the rest some of 
 us are great wild beasts, and some of us little and 
 evil ones ; whereby we may say, ‘‘ Let me at least 
 be eaten by a lion.” ^ But through all these things 
 the promise of the man’s nature has been ruined. 
 
 5. For when is a complex proposition safe ? ^ When 
 it fulfils its promise. So that the validity of a 
 complex proposition is when it is a complex of truths. 
 And when is a disjunctive safe ? When it fulfils 
 its promise. And when are flutes, or a lyre, or a 
 horse, or a dog ? What marvel is it, then, if a man 
 also is to be saved in the same way, and perish in 
 the same way ? 
 
 6. But each thing is increased and saved hy 
 the corresponding works — the carpenter by the 
 practice of carpentry, the grammarian by the study 
 
22 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 of grammar ; but if he use to write ungram- 
 matically, it must needs be that his art shall be 
 corrupted and destroyed. Thus, too, the works of 
 reverence save the reverent man, and those of shame- 
 lessness destroy him. And works of faithfulness 
 save the faithful man, and the contrary destroy him. 
 And men of the contrary character are strengthened 
 therein by contrary deeds ; the irreverent by irrev- 
 erence, the faithless by faithlessness, the reviler by 
 reviling, the angry by anger, the avaricious by unfair 
 giving and taking. 
 
 7. Know, that not easily shall a conviction arise in a 
 man unless he every day speak the same things 
 and hear the same things, and at the same time apply 
 them unto life. 
 
 8. Every great power is perilous to beginners. Thou 
 must bear such things according to thy strength. But 
 I must live according to Nature ? That is not for a 
 sick man.3 Lead thy life as a sick man for a while, so 
 that thou mayest hereafter live it as a whole man. 
 Fast, drink water, abstain for a while from pursuit of 
 every kind, in order that thou mayest pursue as Reason 
 bids. And if as Reason bids, then when thou shalt have 
 aught of good in thee, thy pursuit shall be well. Nay, 
 but we would live as sages and do good to men. What 
 good ? What will thou do ? Hast thou done good to 
 thyself ? But thou would’st exhort them ? And hast 
 thou exhorted thyself Thou would’st do them good 
 — then do not chatter to them, but show them in thyself 
 what manner of men philosophy can make. In thy 
 eating do good to those that eat with thee, in thy 
 
THE CYNIC, 
 
 2 .^ 
 
 drinking to those that drink, by yielding and giving 
 place to all, and bearing with them. Thus do them 
 good, and not by spitting thy bile upon them. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 THE CYNIC.l 
 
 1. One of his pupils, who seemed to be drawn 
 towards the way of Cynism, inquired of Epictetus 
 what manner of man the Cynic ought to be, and 
 what was the natural conception of the thing. And 
 Epictetus said : Let us look into it at leisure. But so 
 much I have now to say to you, that whosoever shall 
 without God attempt so great a matter stirreth up the 
 wrath of God against him, and desireth only to behave 
 himself unseemly before the people. For in no well- 
 ordered house doth one come in and say to himself : 
 I should he the steward of the house, else, when 
 the lord of the house shall have observed it, and 
 seeth him insolently giving orders, he will drag him 
 forth and chastise him. So it is also in this great city 
 of the universe, for here too there is a master of the 
 house who ordereth each and all : ‘ Thou art the Sun ; 
 thy power is to travel round and to make the j^ear and 
 the seasons, and to increase and nourish fruits, and to 
 stir the winds and still them, and temperately to 
 warm the bodies of men. Go forth, run thy course, 
 
24 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 and minister thus to the greatest things and to the 
 least. Thou art a calf ; when a lion shall appear, do 
 what befits thee, or it shall be worse for thee. 
 Thou art a bull ; come forth and fight, for this is thy 
 part and pride, and this thou canst. Thou art able to 
 lead the army against liion ; be Agamemnon. Thou 
 canst fight in single combat with Hector ; be Achilles. 
 But if Thersites came forth and pretended to the 
 authority, then either he would not gain it, or, 
 gaining it, he would have been shamed before many 
 witnesses. 
 
 2. And about this affair, do thou take thought upon 
 it earnestly, for it is not such as it seemeth to thee. 1 
 wear a rough cloah noiu, and I shall wear it then ; ^ 
 I sleep hard noWy and 1 shall sleep so then. I will 
 take to myself a wallet and staff, and I will begin to 
 go about and beg, and to reprove everyone I meet with; 
 and if I shall see one that plucks out his hairs, I will 
 censure him, or one that hath his hair curled, or that 
 goes in purple raiment. If thou conceivest the matter 
 on this wise, far be it from thee — go not near it, it is 
 not for thee. But if thou conceivest of it as it is, and 
 boldest thyself not unworthy of it, then behold to 
 how great an enterprise thou art putting forth thine 
 hand. 
 
 3. First, in things that concern thyself, thou must 
 appear in nothing like unto what thou now doest. 
 Thou must not accuse God nor man ; thou must 
 utterly give over pursuit, and avoid only those things 
 that are in the power of thy will ; anger is not meet 
 for thee, nor resentment, nor envy, nor pity;-^ nor 
 
THE CYNIC. 
 
 25 
 
 must a girl appear to thee fair, nor must reputation, 
 nor a flat cahe.^ For it must be understood that other 
 men shelter themselves by walls and houses and by 
 darkness when they do such things, and many means 
 of concealment have they. One shutteth the door, 
 placeth someone before the chamber ; if anyone should 
 come, say, He is out, he is busy. But in place of all 
 these things it behoves the Cynic to shelter himself 
 behind his own piety and reverence ; but if he 
 doth not, he shall be put to shame, naked under 
 the sky. This is his house, this his door, this the 
 guards of his chamber, this his darkness. For he 
 must not seek to hide aught that he doeth, else he is 
 gone, the Cynic hath perished, the man who lived 
 under the open sky, the freeman. He hath begun to 
 fear something from without, he hath begun to need 
 concealment ; nor can he find it when he would, for 
 where shall he hide himself, and how ? And if by 
 chance this tutor, this public teacher, should be found 
 in guilt, what things must he not suflfer ! And 
 fearing these things, can he yet take heart with his 
 whole soul to guide the rest of mankind ? That 
 can he never : it is impossible ! 
 
 4. First, then, thou must purify thy ruling faculty, 
 and this vocation of thine also, saying : Now it is my 
 mind I must shape, as the carpenter shapes wood 
 and the shoemaker leather ; and the thinof to be 
 formed is a right use of appearances. But nothing 
 to me is the body, and nothing to me the parts of it. 
 Death? Let it come when it will, either death of the 
 whole or of a part. Flee it ! And whither ? Can 
 
26 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 any man cast me out o£ the universe ? He cannot ; 
 but whithersoever I may go there will be the sun, 
 and the moon, and there the stars, and visions, and 
 omens, and communion with the Gods.^ 
 
 5. And, furthermore, when he hath thus fashioned 
 himself, he will not be content with these things, 
 who is a Cynic indeed. But know that he is an 
 herald from God to men, declaring to them the truth 
 about good and evil things ; that they have erred, and 
 are seeking the reality of good and evil where it is not ; 
 and where it is, they do not consider ; and he is a spy, 
 like Diogenes, when he was led captive to Philip after 
 the battle of Chssronea.® For the Cynic is, in truth, a 
 spy of the things that are friendly to men, and that 
 are hostile ; and having closely spied out all, he must 
 come back and declare the truth. And he must 
 neither be stricken with terror and report of enemies 
 where none are ; nor be in any otherwise confounded 
 or troubled by the appearances. 
 
 6. He must then be able, if so it chance, to go up im- 
 passioned, as on the tragic stage, and speak that word 
 of Socrates, “ O men, whither are ye borne away ? 
 What do ye ? Miserable as ye are ! like blind men 
 ye wander up and down. Te have left the true road, 
 and are going by a false; ye are seeking peace and 
 happiness where they are not, and if another shall 
 show you where they are, ye believe him not. Where- 
 fore will ye seek it in outward things ? In the body ? 
 It is not there — and if ye believe me not, lo, Myro ! lo, 
 Ophellius."^ In possessions ? It is not there, and if ye 
 believe me not, lo, Croesus ! lo, the wealthy of our own 
 
THE CYNIC. 
 
 27 
 
 day, how full of mourning is their life ! In avUiovity? 
 It is not there, else should those be happy who have 
 been twice or thrice consul ; yet they are not. Whom 
 shall we believe in this matter ? You, who look but 
 on these men from without, and are dazzled by the 
 appearance, or the men themselves ? And what say 
 they ? Hearken to them when they lament, when 
 they groan, when by reason of those consulships, and 
 their glory and renown, they hold their state the more 
 full of misery and danger ! In royalty ? It is not 
 there; else were Nero happy, and Sardanapalus ; but 
 not Agamemnon himself was happy, more splendid 
 though he was than Nero or Sardanapalus ; but while 
 the rest are snoring what is he doing ? 
 
 ‘‘ He tore his rooted hair by handfuls out.” — 11. x. 
 
 And what saith himself ? I am distraught,’^ he saith, 
 and I am in anguish ; my heart leaps forth from my 
 bosom.’^ — [II. X.] Miserable man ! which of thy con- 
 cerns hath gone wrong with thee ? Thy wealth ? 
 Nay. Thy body ? Nay; but thou art rich in gold and 
 bronze. What ails thee then ? That part, whatever it 
 be, with which we pursue, with which we avoid, with 
 which we desire and dislike, thou hast neglected and 
 corrupted. How hath it been neglected? He hath been 
 ignorant of the true Good for which it was born, and 
 of the Evil ; and of what is his own, and what is alien 
 to him. And when it goeth ill with something that is 
 alien to him, he saith, Woe is me, for the Greeks are 
 %n peril. O unhappy mind of thee ! of all things 
 alone neglected and untended. They will he slain by 
 
28 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 the Trojans and die ! And if the Trojans slay them 
 not, will they not still die ? Yea^ but not all together. 
 What, then, doth it matter ? for if it be an evil to die, 
 it is alike evil to die together or to die one by 
 one. Shall anything else happen to them than the 
 parting of body and soul ? Nothing. And when the 
 Greeks have perished, is the door closed to thee ? 
 canst thou not also die ? I can. Wherefore, then, 
 dost thou lament : Woe is me, a king, and hearing the 
 sceptre of Zeus ? There is no unfortunate king, as 
 there is no unfortunate God. What, then, art thou ? 
 In very truth a shepherd ; for thou lamentest even as 
 shepherds do when a wolf hath snatched away one of 
 the sheep ; and sheep are they whom thou dost rule. 
 And why art thou come hither ? Was thy faculty of 
 pursuit in any peril, or of avoidance, or thy desire or 
 aversion ? Nay, he saith, but my brothers wife was 
 carried away. Was it not a great gain to be rid 
 of an adulterous wife ? Shall %ve be, then, despised of 
 the Trojans 'I Of the Trojans ? Of what manner of 
 men ? of wise men or fools ? If of v/ise men, why do 
 ye make war with them 1 if of fools, why do ye heed 
 them P 
 
 7. In what, then, is the good, seeing that in these 
 things it is not ? Tell us, thou, my lord missionary 
 and spy ! It is there where ye deem it not, and where 
 ye have no desire to seek it. For did ye desire, ye 
 would have found it in yourselves, nor would ye 
 wander to things without, nor pursue things alien, as 
 if they were your own concerns. Turn to your own 
 selves; understand the natural conceptions which ye 
 
THE CYNIC 
 
 29 
 
 possess. What kind of thing do ye take the Good to 
 be 'I Peace ? happiness freedom ? Come, then, do ye 
 not naturally conceive it as great, as precious, and that 
 cannot be harmed What kind of material, then, will 
 ye take to shape peace and freedom withal — that 
 which is enslaved or in that which is free ? That ivhich 
 is free. Have ye the flesh enslaved or free We know 
 not Know ye not that it is the slave of fever, of gout, 
 of ophthalmia, of dysentery, of tyranny, and Are, and 
 steel, and everything that is mightier than itself? 
 Yea, it is enslaved. How, then, can aught that is of 
 the body be free ? and how can that be great or 
 precious which by nature is dead, mere earth or 
 mud ? 
 
 8. What then ? have ye nothing that is free ? 
 It may be nothing. And who can compel you to 
 assent to an appearance that is false ? No man. 
 And who can compel you not to assent to an 
 appearance that is true ? No man. Here, then, ye 
 see that there is in you something that is by nature 
 free. But which of you, except he lay hold of some 
 appearance of the profitable, or of the becoming, can 
 either pursue or avoid, or desire or dislike, or adapt or 
 intend anything ? No man. In these things too, 
 then, ye have something that is unhindered and free. 
 This, miserable men, must ye perfect ; this have a care 
 to, in this seek for the Good. 
 
 9. And how is it possible that one can live pros- 
 perously who hath nothing ; a naked, homeless, hearth- 
 less, beggarly man, %vithout servants, without a 
 country ? Lo, God hath sent you a man to show you 
 
30 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 in very deed that it is possible. ‘‘ Behold me, that I 
 have neither country, nor house, nor possessions, nor 
 servants ; I sleep on the ground ; nor is a wife mine, 
 nor children, nor domicile, but only earth and heaven, 
 and a single cloak. And what is lacking to me ? do 
 ever I grieve ? do I fear ? am I not free ? When did 
 any of you see me fail of my pursuit, or meet with 
 what I had avoided ? When did I blame God or 
 man ? When did I accuse any man ? When did any 
 of you see me of a sullen countenance ? How do I 
 meet those whom ye fear and marvel at ? Do I not 
 treat them as my slaves ? Who that seeth me, but 
 thinketh he beholdeth his king and his lord 1 
 
 10. So these are the accents of the Cynic, this his 
 character, this his design. Not so — but it is his bag, 
 and his staff, and his great jaws; and to devour all 
 that is given to him, or store it up, or to reprove out 
 of season everyone that he may meet, or to show off 
 his shoulder.^ 
 
 11. Dost thou see how thou art about to take in 
 hand so great a matter ? Take first a mirror, look upon 
 thy shoulders, mark well thy loins and thighs. Thou 
 art about to enter thy name for the Olympic games, 
 0 man ; no cold and paltry contest. Nor canst thou 
 then be merely overcome and then depart ; but first 
 thou must be shamed in the sight of all the world ; 
 and not alone of the Athenians or Lacedaemonians, or 
 Nicopolitans. And then if thou hast too rashly 
 entered upon the contest, thou must be thrashed, and 
 before being thrashed must suffer thirst and scorching 
 heat, and swallow much dust. 
 
THE CYNIC. 
 
 31 
 
 12. Consider more closely, know thyself, question 
 thy genius,^^ attempt nothing without God ; who, if 
 he counsel thee, he sure that he wills thee either to be 
 great or to be greatly plagued. For this very agree- 
 able circumstance is linked with the calling of a 
 Cynic; he must be flogged like an ass, and, being 
 flogged, must love those who flog him, as though he 
 were the father or brother of all mankind. Not so, 
 but if one shall flog thee, stand in the midst and 
 shriek out, 0 GcesaVy what things do I suffer in the 
 EnvperoYs peace ! Let us take him before the pro- 
 consul, But what is Caesar to the Cynic ? or what is 
 a pro-consul ? or what is any other than He that hath 
 sent him hither, and whom he serveth, which is Zeus ? 
 Doth he call upon any other than God ? Is he not 
 persuaded, whatsoever things he may suffer, that he is 
 being trained and exercised by God ? Hercules, when 
 he was exercised by Eurystheus, never deemed himself 
 wretched ; but fulfilled courageously all that was laid 
 upon him. But he who shall cry out and bear it hard 
 when he is being trained and exercised by Zeus, is he 
 worthy to bear the sceptre of Diogenes ? Hear what 
 Diogenes saith, when ill of a fever, to the bystanders : 
 Base souls, will ye not remain ? To see the overthrow 
 and combat of athletes, how great a way ye journey to 
 Olympia ; and have ye no will to see a combat between 
 a fever and a man ? And will such an one presently 
 accuse God who hath sent him, as having used him ill 
 — he who was glorying in his lot, and' held himself 
 worthy to be a spectacle to the bystanders? For of 
 what shall he accuse Him : that his life is seemly, that 
 
32 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 he manifests God’s will, that he showeth forth his 
 virtue more brightly? Come, then; and what saith 
 he about death, about pain ? How did he compare 
 his own happiness with that of the Great King ? nay, 
 he thought rather that there was no comparison. For 
 where there are confusions, and griefs, and fears, and 
 unattained pursuits, and avoidance in vain, and envy 
 and rivalry, can the way to happiness lie there ? But 
 where rotten opinions are there must of necessity be 
 all these things. 
 
 13. And the young man having asked whether one 
 that hath fallen ill shall obey, if a friend desire that 
 he will go home with him and be tended : Where, he 
 said, will you show me the friend of a Cynic ? For he 
 himself must be even such another, so as to be worthy 
 to be reckoned his friend. A sharer in the sceptre 
 and the royalty must he be, and a worthy servant, if 
 he will be worthy of his friendship, as Diogenes was 
 of Antisthenes and Crates of Diogenes. Or seems it 
 so to thee that whosoever shall come to him and bid 
 him hail is his friend? and that he will think him 
 worthy that a Cynic shall go to his house ? Thus, if 
 it please thee to be a Cynic, bethink thee rather of such 
 a thing as this, and cast about for a dainty dungheap 
 whereon to have thy fever ; and see that it look 
 away from the north, so that thou be not chilled. 
 But thou seemest to me to wish to retreat into some* 
 body’s house and spend thy time there, and be fed. 
 What hast thou to do with undertaking so great a 
 matter ? 
 
 11. Bui marriage, said he, and the begetting of 
 
THE CYNIC. 
 
 33 
 
 children, — are these to he received by the Cynic among 
 his chief 'purposes ? 
 
 Give me, said Epictetus, a city of wise men, and 
 perhaps no one will easily come to the Cynic way : 
 for whose sake should he embrace it? However, if 
 we do suppose such a thing, there is nothing to hinder 
 his marrying and begetting children ; for his wife will 
 be even such another, and his father-in-law such 
 another, and thus will his children be brought up. 
 But things being as they now are, as it were in order 
 of battle, must not the Cynic be given wholly and 
 undistracted to the service of God, being able to go 
 about among men, and not bound to private duties, 
 nor entangled in ties which, if he transgress, he can no 
 longer preserve the aspect of honesty and goodness ; 
 and if he obey them, he hath lost that of the missionary, 
 the spy, the herald of the Gods? For see ! he must 
 needs observe a certain conduct towards his father-in- 
 law, and he hath somewhat to render also to the rest of 
 his wife’s kin and to his wife herself. And for the rest, 
 he is shut off from Cynism by the care for sickness, or 
 means of livelihood. For one thing alone, he must 
 have a vessel for warming water for his little child, 
 where he may wash it in the bath ; and wool for his 
 wife when she has been delivered, and oil, and a couch, 
 and a drinking cup — already a number of utensils 
 — and other affairs and distractions. Where shall I 
 thenceforth find that king, whose whole business is 
 the common weal ? 
 
 “ Warden of men, and with so many cares.” — ( 12 . ii., 26), 
 
 539 
 
34 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 on whom it lies to oversee all men, the married, and 
 parents, and who useth his wife well, and who ill, and 
 who wrangles, and what household is well-ordered, 
 and what not ; going about as a physician, and feeling 
 pulses — ‘Hhou hast a fever, thou a headache, thou the 
 gout; do thou fast, do thou eat, do thou avoid the 
 bath, thou needest the knife, thou the cautery?” 
 Where is the place for leisure to one who is bound to 
 private duties ? Must he not provide raiment for his 
 children ? yea, and send them to the schoolmaster 
 with their tablets and writing instruments ? and have 
 a bed ready for them, since a man cannot be a Cynic 
 from the womb ? Else were it better to cast them away 
 at once than kill them in this way. See, now, to what 
 we have brought our Cynic — how we have taken 
 away his kingship from him ! True, hut Crates 
 married. Thou speakest of a circumstance that 
 arose from love, and adducest a wife who was 
 another Crates.^^ But our inquiry is concerning 
 common marriages, and how men may be undis- 
 tracted ; and thus inquiring, we do not find it, in this 
 condition of the world, a purpose of chief concern for 
 a Cynic. 
 
 15. HoWy then, said he, shall he still he preserving 
 the community ? God help thee ! Whether do they 
 best serve mankind who fill their own place by 
 bringing into the world two or three screaming 
 children, or those who, as far they may, oversee all 
 men, what they do, how they live, wherewith they 
 concern themselves, and what duties they neglect ? 
 And were the Thebans more benefited by as many as 
 
THE CYNIC. 
 
 35 
 
 left their little children behind, or by Epaminondas, 
 who died childless ? And did Priam, who begat fifty 
 good-for-nothing sons, or Danaus, or .^olus,^^ better 
 serve the community than Homer ? Shall, then, the 
 command of an army or the writing of poems with- 
 draw a man from marriage and fatherhood, and he 
 shall not be thought to have gained nothing for his 
 childlessness, but the kingship of a Cynic shall be 
 not worth what it costs ? It may be we do not per- 
 ceive his greatness, nor do we worthily conceive of the 
 character of Diogenes ; but we turn away our eyes 
 to the present Cynics, “ watch-dogs of the dining- 
 room,”^^ who in nothing resemble those others, save 
 perchance in breaking wind ; but in no other thing. 
 For else these things would not have moved us, nor 
 should we have marvelled if a Cynic will not marry 
 nor beget children. Man ! he hath begotten all man- 
 kind, he hath all men for his sons, all women for his 
 daughters ; so doth he visit all and care for all. 
 Thinkest thou that he is a mere meddler and busy- 
 body in rebuking those whom he meets ? As a father 
 he doth it, as a brother, and as servant of the 
 Universal Father, which is God. 
 
 16. If it please thee, ask of me also whether he shall 
 have to do with affairs of public polity 1 Fool ! dost 
 thou seek a greater polity than that in whose affairs 
 he is already concerned ? Will it be greater if he 
 come forward among the Athenians to say something 
 about ways or means — he, whose part it is to dis- 
 course with all men, Athenians, Corinthians, Romans 
 alike, not concerning means or ways, nor concerning 
 
36 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 peace or war, but about happiness and unhappiness, 
 about good-fortune and ill-fortune, about slavery and 
 freedom ? And of a man that hath his part in so great 
 a polity will you ask me if he shall attend to public 
 affairs ? Ask me also if he shall be a ruler ; and again 
 I shall say, Thou fool, what rule can be greater than 
 his ] 
 
 17. And to such a man there is need also of a 
 certain kind of body. For if he shall appear consump- 
 tive, meagre, and pale, his witness hath not the same 
 emphasis. Not only by showing forth the things of 
 the spirit must he convince foolish men that it is 
 possible, without the things that are admired of them, 
 to be good and wise, but also in his body must he 
 show that plain and simple and open-air living are not 
 mischievous even to the body : '' Behold, even of this 
 I am a witness, I and my body.” So Diogenes was 
 wont to do, for he went about radiant with health, 
 and with his very body he turned many to good. 
 But a Cynic that men pity seems to be a beggar — all 
 men turn away from him, all stumble at him. For he 
 must not appear squalid; so that neither in this 
 respect shall he scare men away ; but his very austerity 
 should be cleanly and pleasing. 
 
 18. Much grace of body, then, must belong to the 
 Cynic, and also quickness of mind, else he is a mere 
 clot of slime and nothing else ; for he must be ready 
 and apt to meet all that may befall him. Thus when 
 one said to Diogenes : Thovu art that Diogenes who 
 thinkest there are no Oods, he replied, And how may that 
 be, seeing I hold thee hateful to the Gods ? And again, 
 
THE CYNIC. 
 
 Z1 
 
 when Alexander stood beside him, as he was lying 
 asleep, and said : 
 
 “Not all night must a man of counsel sleep,” 
 he answered, ere he was yet awake : 
 
 “ Warden of men, and with so many cares. 
 
 19. But before all things must his ruling faculty be 
 purer than the sun, else he must needs be a 
 gambler and cheater, who, being himself entangled 
 in some iniquity, will reprove others. For, see how 
 the matter stands : to these kings and tyrants, their 
 spearmen and their arms give the office of reproving 
 men, and the power to punish transgressors, yea, 
 though they themselves be evil ; but to the Cynic, 
 instead of arms and spearmen, his conscience giveth 
 this power. When he knovv^s that he has watched 
 and laboured for men, and lain down to sleep in 
 purity, and sleep hath left him yet purer ; and that 
 his thoughts have been the thoughts of one dear to 
 the Gods, of a servant, and a sharer in the rule of 
 Zeus ; and he hath had ever at hand that 
 
 “ Lead me, 0 Zeus, and thou Destiny,^® 
 
 and, 
 
 “ If thus it be pleasing to the Gods, so may it be ” — 
 
 wherefore, then, shall he not take heart to speak 
 boldly to his brothers, to his children, in a word, to 
 all his kin ? For this reason, he that in this state 
 is no meddler or busybody, for when he overlooks 
 human affairs he meddles not with foreign matters. 
 
EPICTETUS. 
 
 38 
 
 but with his own affairs. Else, name the general a 
 busybody when he overlooks his soldiers, and reviews 
 
 them, and watches them, and punishes the disorderly. 
 But if you have a flat cake under your cloak while 
 you reprove others, I say, get hence rather into a 
 corner, and eat what thou hast stolen — what are other 
 men’s concerns to thee ? For what art thou — the bull 
 of the herd ? or the queen bee ? Show me the 
 tokens of thy supremacy, such as nature hath given her. 
 But if thou art a drone claiming sovereignty over the 
 bees, thinkest thou not that thy fellow-citizens will 
 overthrow thee, as bees do the drones ? 
 
 20. And truly the Cynic must be so long-sufiering 
 as that he shall seem to the multitude insensate 
 and a stone. Him doth none revile, nor smite, 
 nor insult ; but his body hath he given to any 
 man to use at will. For he remembers that the worse 
 must needs be vanquished by the better, wherein- 
 soever it is the worse ; and the body is worse than 
 the multitude — the weaker than the stronger. Never, 
 
 then, doth he go down to any contest where it is 
 possible for him to be vanquished, but he yields up all 
 that is not his own, and contends for nothing that is 
 subject to others. But where there is question of 
 the will and the use of appearances, then you shall 
 see how many eyes he hath, so that you may say 
 that compared with him Argus was blind. Is his 
 assent ever hasty ; or his desire idle ; or his pursuit 
 in vain; or his avoidance unsuccessful; or his aim 
 unfulfilled ? doth he ever blame, or cringe, or envy ? 
 This is his great study and his design ; but as regards 
 
THE CYNia 
 
 39 
 
 all other things, he lies on his back and snores, for all 
 is peace. There is no thief of his will, nor tyrant ; 
 but of his body ? yea ; and of his chattels ? yea, 
 and also of his authority and his honours. What, then, 
 are these things to him ? So when one may seek to 
 make him afraid on account of them, — Go hence, he 
 saith to him, and find out little children; it is to 
 these that masJcs are dreadful, hut I know they are 
 made of clay, and that inside them there is nothing. 
 
 21. On such a matter art thou now meditating. 
 Therefore, if it please thee, in God’s name delay it yet 
 awhile, and see first what ability thou hast for it. 
 For mark what Hector speaks to Andromache : Go, he 
 saith, rather into the house and weave — - 
 
 “For war’s the care 
 Of every maD, and more than all of me.” 
 
 — II, vi. 490. 
 
 Thus he knew where lay his own ability and her 
 incapacity. 
 
 End of Book I. 
 
BOOK IL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ON GENUINE AND BOEEOWED BELIEFS, 
 
 1. The master-argument seems to start from propo- 
 sitions such as these There being a mutual con- 
 tradiction among these three propositions — (1) Every 
 past event is necessarily true/^ and (2) An impos- 
 sibility cannot follow a possibility/^ and (3) ‘‘ Things 
 are possible which neither are nor will be true/' 
 Diodorus, perceiving this contradiction, made use of the 
 force of the first two in order to prove that nothing is 
 possible which neither is nor will be true. And, again, 
 one will hold these two, (3) that a thing is possible 
 which neither is nor will be true, and (2) that an 
 impossibility cannot follow from a possibility ; but by 
 no means that every past thing is necessarily true, and 
 thus those of the school of Cleanthes appear to think, 
 whom Antipater strongly defended. But some hold 
 the other two, (3) that a thing is possible that neither 
 is nor will be true, and (1) that every past event is 
 necessarily true ; but maintain that an impossibility 
 may follow from a possibility. But all three it is 
 
GENUINE AND BORROWED BELIEFS, 41 
 
 impossible to hold at once, because of their mutual 
 contradiction. 
 
 2. Now, if anyone inquire of me, And which 
 of these dost thou hold ? I shall answer him that 
 I do not know, but I have received this account, 
 that Diodorus holds certain of them, and I think 
 the followers of Panthoides and Cleanthes certain 
 others, and those of Chrysippus yet others. And 
 thyself? Nay, it is no affair of mine to try my 
 own thoughts, and to compare and estimate state- 
 ments, and to form some opinion of my own upon 
 the matter.2 And thus I differ no whit from the 
 grammarians. Who was Hector's father ? Priam. 
 And his brothers ? Alexander and Deiphohus. And 
 their mother, who was she ? Hecuba. That is the 
 account I have received. From whom ? From 
 Homer ; and I thinh Hellaniciis has written of them, 
 and maybe others too. And I ; what better have I to 
 say about the master argument ? But if I am a vain 
 man, and especially at a banquet, I shall amaze all the 
 company by recounting those who have written on 
 it ; — for Chrysippus wrote on it wonderfully in his 
 first book ‘‘ On Possibilities ; ” and Cleanthes wrote a 
 separate treatise on it, and so did Archedemus. And 
 Antipater wrote too, not only in his book, On Possi- 
 bilities,” but also separately in those on the master 
 argument. Have you not read the work ? No ! Then 
 read it. And what good will it do him to read it? 
 He will become yet more of a babbler and a nuisance 
 than he is now, for what else hath the reading of it 
 done for you? What opinion have you formed for 
 
42 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 yourself on the matter ? Nay, but you will tell us 
 all about Helen, and Priam, and the island of Calypso, 
 that never existed, nor ever will. 
 
 3. And in Homer, indeed, it is no great matter if 
 you have simply mastered the account, and formed no 
 opinion of your own. But in ethics this is even much 
 more often the case than in other matters. Tell me 
 concerning good and evil things ! Listen to him, 
 then, with his — 
 
 “Me to Ciconia brought the wind from Troy.”® — Od, ix. 39. 
 
 Of things some are good, some evil, and some indifferent 
 Now the good things are the virtues, and those that have 
 the nature of virtue, and the evil things the vices, and 
 those that have the nature of vice ; and the indifferent 
 things are between these, as wealth, health, life, death, 
 pleasure, affliction. And how do you know thisi 
 Because Hellanicus affirms it in his history of the 
 Egyptians ; for as well say this as that Diogenes has 
 it in his Ethics, or Ohrysippus, or Cleanthes. But 
 have you tested any of their sayings, and formed an 
 opinion for yourself? Show me how you are wont 
 to bear a storm at sea. Do you remember the dif- 
 ference between good and evil when the sail clatters, 
 and some vexatious man comes to you as you are 
 shrieking, and says — 
 
 “ Tell me, by the gods, what you were lately 
 
 saying. Is it any vice to be shipwrecked? Hath it 
 anything of the nature of vice ? ” 
 
 Would you not lay hold of a stick and shake it in 
 his face : Let us alone, man ; we are perishing, and 
 
GENUINE AND BORROWED BELIEFS. 43 
 
 yon come to mock us ! And do you remember the 
 difference i£ you are accused of something and Cassar 
 sends for you ? If one should come to you when you 
 enter, pale and trembling, and should say, ‘‘ Why do you 
 tremble, man ? what is your business concerned with ? 
 Doth Cassar there within dispense virtue and vice to 
 those who go in to him ? Why, you will say ; must 
 you too mock me in my calamities ? 
 
 “ Nevertheless, tell me, 0 Philosopher, why you 
 
 tremble — is it not merely death that you are in 
 danger of, or imprisonment, or bodily suffering, or 
 exile, or disgrace ? What else ? Is it any vice ? or 
 anything of the nature of vice ? ” 
 
 And jon will reply somewhat to this effect : Let 
 me alone, man ; my own evils are enough for me. 
 
 And truly you say well, for your own evils are 
 enough for you ; which are meanness, cowardice, and 
 your false pretences when you sat in the school of 
 philosophy. Why did you deck yourself in others* 
 glory ? Why did you call yourself a Stoic ? 
 
 4. Watch yourselves thus in the things that ye do, 
 and ye shall see of what school ye are. And the 
 most of you will be found Epicureans, but some few 
 Peripatetics,^ and those but slack. For where is the 
 proof that ye hold virtue equal to all other things, or 
 indeed superior ? Show me a Stoic, if ye have one. 
 Where or how can ye ? But persons that repeat the 
 phrases of Stoicism, of these ye can show us any 
 number. And do they repeat those of the Epicureans 
 any worse ? and are they not equally accurate in the 
 Peripatetic ? Who is, then, a Stoic ? As we say that 
 
44 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 a statue is Pheidian which is wrought according to 
 the art of Pheidias, show me a man that is wrought 
 according to the opinions he utters ! Show me one 
 that is sick and yet prosperous, in peril and pros- 
 perous, dying and prosperous, in exile and prosperous, 
 in evil repute and prosperous Show him to me 1 by 
 the Gods ! fain would I see a Stoic 1 And have ye 
 none that is fully wrought out; then show me at least 
 one that is in hand to be wrought — one that even 
 leaneth towards these things. Do me this favour — 
 grudge not an old man a sight that I have never 
 seen yet. Think ye that I would have you show me 
 the Zeus of Pheidias or the Athene — a work all ivory 
 and gold ? Nay ; but let one show me a man’s soul 
 that longs to be like-minded with God, and to blame 
 neither Gods nor men, and not to fail in any effort or 
 avoidance, and not to be wrathful nor envious, nor 
 jealous, but — for why should I make rounds to say it ? 
 — that desires to become a God from a man, and in 
 this body of ours, this corpse, is mindful of his fellow- 
 ship with Zeus. Show me that man. But ye cannot ! 
 Why, then, will ye mock yourselves and cheat others ? 
 Why wrap yourselves in others’ garb, and go about, 
 like thieves that steal clothes from the bath, with 
 names and things that in nowise belong to you ? 
 
 5. And now I am your teacher and ye are being 
 taught by me. And I have this aim — to perfect you, 
 that ye be unhindered, uncompelled, unembarrassed, 
 free, prosperous, happy, looking unto God alone in all 
 things great and small. And ye are here to learn 
 these things, and to do them. And wherefore do ye 
 
THE GAME OF LIFE. 
 
 45 
 
 not finish the work, if ye have indeed such an aim as 
 behoves you, and if I, besides the aim, have such 
 ability as behoves me ? What is here lacking 1 When 
 I see a carpenter, and the wood lying beside him, I 
 look for some work. And now, here is the carpenter, 
 here is the wood — what is yet lacking 1 Is the thing 
 such as cannot be taught ? It can. Is it, then, not in 
 our power ? Yea, this alone of all things is. Wealth 
 is not in our power, nor health, nor repute, nor any 
 other thing, save only the right use of appearances. 
 This alone is by nature unhindered ; this alone is 
 unembarrassed. Wherefore, then, will ye not make 
 an end ? Tell me the reason. For either the fault 
 lies in me, or in you, or in the nature of the thing. 
 But the thing itself is possible, and indeed the only 
 thing that is in our power. It remains that I am to 
 blame, or else ye are ; or, to speak more truly, both of 
 us. What will ye, then ? Let us at length begin to 
 entertain such a purpose among us, and let the past 
 be past. Only let us make a beginning : trust in me, 
 and ye shall see. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GAME OF LIFE. 
 
 1. This above all is the task of Nature — to bind 
 and harmonise together the force of the appearances 
 of the Right and of the Useful. 
 
 2. Things are indifferent, but the uses of them are 
 
46 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 not indifferent. How, then, shall one preserve at once 
 both a steadfast and tranquil mind, and also care- 
 fulness of things, that he be not heedless or slovenly ? 
 If he take example of dice players. The numbers 
 are indifferent, the dice are indifferent. How can I 
 tell what may be thrown up ? But carefully and 
 skilfully to make use of what is thrown, that is 
 where my proper business begins. And this is the 
 great task of life also, to discern things and divide them, 
 and say, Outward things are not in my power ; to 
 will is in my power. Where shall I seek the Good, 
 and where the Evil ? Within me — in all that is my 
 own.” But of all that is alien to thee call nothing 
 good nor evil nor profitable nor hurtful, nor any such 
 term as these. 
 
 3. What then ? should we be careless of such 
 things ? In no wise. For this, again, is a vice in the 
 Will, and thus contrary to Nature. But be at once 
 careful, because the use of things is not indifferent, 
 and steadfast and tranquil because the things them- 
 selves are. For where there is aught that concerns 
 me, there none can hinder or compel me ; and in 
 those things where I am hindered or compelled the 
 attainment is not in my power, and is neither good nor 
 evil ; but my use of the event is either evil or good, 
 and this is in my power. And hard it is, indeed, to 
 mingle and reconcile together the carefulness of one 
 whom outward things affect, with the steadfastness of 
 him who regards them not. But impossible it is not ; 
 and if it is, it is impossible to be happy. 
 
 4. Give me one man that cares how he shall do 
 
THE GAME OF LIFE, 
 
 47 
 
 anything — that thinks not of the gaining of the thing, 
 but thinks of his own energy. 
 
 5. Chrysippus, therefore, said well — '‘As long as 
 future things are hidden from me, I hold always by 
 whatever state is the most favourable for gaining the 
 things that are according to Nature; for God himself 
 gave it to me to make such choice. But if I knew 
 that it were now ordained for me to be sick, I would 
 even move to it of myself. For the foot, too, if it had 
 intelligence, would move of itself to be mired. 
 
 6. For to what end, think you, are ears of corn 
 produced ? Is it not that they may become dry and 
 parched ? And the reason they are parched, is it not 
 that they may be reaped ? for it is not to exist for 
 themselves alone that they come into the world. If, 
 then, they had perception, would it be proper for 
 them to pray that they should never be reaped ? since 
 never to be reaped is for ears of corn a curse. So 
 understand that for men it is a curse not to die, just 
 as not to be ripened and not to be reaped. But we, 
 since we are both the things to be reaped and are also 
 conscious that we shall be reaped, have indignation 
 thereat. For we know not what we are, nor have we 
 studied what concerns humanity, as those that have 
 the care of horses study what concerns them. But 
 Chrysantas, when just about to smite the enemy, 
 forbore on hearing the trumpet sounding his recall; 
 so much better did it seem to him to obey the 
 commander’s order than to do his own will. But of 
 us not one will follow with docility the summons even 
 of necessity, but weeping and groaning the things that 
 
48 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 we suffer, we suffer, calling them our doom.^ What 
 doom, man ? If by doom you mean that which is 
 doomed to happen to us, then we are doomed in all 
 things. But if only our afflictions are to be called 
 doom, then what affliction is it that that which has 
 come into being should perish ? But we perish by the 
 sword, or the wheel, or the sea, or the tile of a roof, or 
 a tyrant. What matters it by what road thou goest 
 down into Hades ? they are all equal. But if thou wilt 
 hear the truth, the way the tyrant sends thee is the 
 shortest. Never did any tyrant cut a man's throat in 
 six months, but a fever will often be a year killing 
 him. All these things are but noise, and a clatter of 
 empty names. 
 
 7. But let us do as in setting out on a voyage. 
 What is it possible for me to do ? This — to choose 
 the captain, crew, the day, the opportunity. Then a 
 tempest has burst upon us ; but what doth it concern 
 me ? I have left nothing undone that was mine to 
 do ; the problem is now another’s, to wit, the captain’s. 
 But now the ship is sinking ! and what have I to do ? 
 I do only what I am able — drown without terror and 
 screaming and accusing of God, but knowing that that 
 which has come into being must also perish. For I 
 am no Immortal, but a man, a part of the sum of 
 things as an hour is of the day. Like the hour I must 
 arrive, and, like the hour, pass away. What, then, can 
 it matter to me how I pass away — whether by drown- 
 ing or by a fever ? for pass I must, even by some such 
 thing. Now, this is what you shall see done by 
 skilful ball-players. None careth for the ball as it 
 
THE GAME OF LIFE, 
 
 49 
 
 were a thing good or bad ; but only about throwing 
 it and catching it. In this, then, there is rule, in this 
 art, quickness, judgment ; so that I may fail of 
 catching the ball, even if I spread out my lap, and 
 another, if I throw it, may catch it. But if I am 
 anxious and nervous as I catch and throw, what kind 
 of play is this ? how shall one be steady ? how shall 
 he observe the order of the game ? One will call 
 “ Throw,” ‘‘ Do not throw,” and another, You have 
 thrown once.” But this is strife and not play, 
 
 8. Thus Socrates knew how to play ball. How ? 
 When he jested in the court of justice. ‘‘ Tell me, 
 Any tus,” he said, how say you that I believe there is 
 no God ? The Dsemons, who are they, think you ? Are 
 they not sons of God, or a mixed nature between Gods 
 and men ? ” And when this was admitted — “ Who, 
 do you think, can hold that mules exist, but not 
 asses ? And thus he played with the ball. And 
 what was the ball that was there thrown about 
 among them ? Life, chains, exile, a draught of 
 poison, to be torn from a wife, to leave children 
 orphans. These were the things among them that 
 they played withal ; yet none the less did he play, and 
 flung the ball with proper grace and measure. And 
 so should we do also, having the carefulness of the 
 most zealous players, and yet indifierence, as were it 
 merely about a ball. 
 
 S40 
 
EPICTETUS. 
 
 SO 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THINGS ABE WHAT THEY ARE. 
 
 1. Each thing that allures the mind, or offers an 
 advantage, or is loved by you, remember to speak o£ 
 it as it is, from the smallest things upward. If you 
 love an earthen jar, then think, 1 love an earthen jar, 
 for so shall you not be troubled when it breaks. And 
 when you kiss your little child, or wife, think, 1 kiss a 
 mortal ; and so shall you not be troubled when they 
 die. 
 
 2. When you are about to take in hand some action, 
 bethink you what it is that you are about to do. If 
 you go to the bath, represent to yourself all that 
 takes place there — the squirting of water, the slapping, 
 the scolding, the pilfering; and then shall you take 
 the matter in hand more safely, saying straightway : 
 I desire to he bathed, and maintain my purpose 
 according to Nature, And even so with each and 
 every action. For thus, if aught should occur to cross 
 you in your bathing, this thought shall be straight- 
 way at hand : But not this alone did I desire ; but 
 also to maintain my purpose according to Nature. 
 And I shall not maintain it if I have indignation at 
 what happens here. 
 
 3. The first difference between the vulgar man^ and 
 the philosopher : The one saith. Woe is me for my 
 child, my brother, woe for my father ; but the other, 
 if ever he shall be compelled to say. Woe is me, checks 
 
THINGS ARE WHAT THEY ARE. 
 
 51 
 
 himself and saith, /or myself. For nothing that the 
 Will willeth not can hinder or hurt the Will, but itself 
 only can hurt itself. If then, indeed, we too incline to 
 this, that when we are aflBiicted we accuse ourselves, 
 and recollect that nothing else than Opinion can cause 
 us any trouble or unsettlement, I swear by all the Gods 
 we have advanced ! But as it is, we have from the 
 beginning travelled a different road. While we are 
 still children, if haply we stumbled as we were gaping 
 about, the nurse did not chide us, but beat the stone. 
 
 For what had the stone done ? Ought it to have moved 
 out of the way, for your child's folly ? Again, if we 
 find nothing to eat after comings from the bath, never 
 doth the tutor check our desire, but he beats the cook. 
 
 Man, we did not set thee to be a tutor of the cook, but 
 of our child — ^him shall you train, him improve. And 
 thus, even when full-grown, we appear as children. 
 
 For a child in music is he who hath not learned music, 
 and in letters, one who hath not learned letters, and in 
 life, one undisciplined in philosophy. 
 
 4. It is not things, but the opinions about the 
 things, that trouble mankind. Thus Death is nothing 
 terrible ; if it were so, it would have appeared so to 
 Socrates. But the opinion we have about Death, that 
 it is terrible, that it is wherein the terror lieth. When, 
 therefore, we are hindered or troubled or grieved, 
 never let us blame any other than ourselves ; that is to 
 say, our opinions. A man undisciplined in philosophy 
 blames others in matters in which he fares ill ; one 
 who begins to be disciplined blames himself, one who is 
 disciplined, neither others nor himself. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSnYOFBJJHOB 
 
52 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 6. Be not elated in mind at any superiority that is 
 not of yourself. If your horse were elated and 
 should say, I am beautiful, that would be tolerable. 
 But when you are elated and say, I have a beautiful 
 horse, know that it is at an excellence in your horse 
 that you are elated. What, then, is your own ? This 
 — to make use of the appearances. So that when 
 you deal according to Nature in the use of appear- 
 ances, then shall you be elated, for you will then be 
 elated at an excellence that is your own. 
 
 CHAPTER IW 
 
 THREE STEPS TO PERFECTION. 
 
 1. There are three divisions of Philosophy wherein 
 a man must exercise himself who would be wise and 
 good.^ 
 
 The first concerns his pursuit and avoidance, so that 
 he may not fail of aught that he would attain, nor 
 fall into aught that he would avoid. 
 
 The second concerns his desires and aversions, 
 and, generally, all that it becomes a man to be, so 
 that he bear himself orderly and prudently and not 
 heedlessly. 
 
 The third is that which concerns security from 
 delusion and hasty apprehension, and, generally, the 
 assenting to appearances. 
 
 Of these the chief and most urgent is that which. 
 
THREE STEPS TO PERFECTION. 
 
 53 
 
 hath to do with the passions, ^ for the passions arise 
 in no other way than by our failing in endeavour to 
 attain or to avoid something. This it is which brings 
 in troubles and tumults and ill-luck and misfortune, 
 that is the cause of griefs and lamentations and 
 envies, that makes envious and jealous men ; by which 
 thinofs we become unable even to hear the doctrines 
 of reason. 
 
 The second concerns that which is becoming to a 
 man ; for I must not be passionless,^ like a statue, 
 but maintain all relations natural and acquired, as a 
 religious being, as a son, as a brother, as a father, as 
 a citizen. 
 
 The third is that which concerns men as soon as 
 they are making advance in philosophy, which pro- 
 vides for the security of the two others; so that not 
 even in dreams may any appearance that approacheth 
 us pass untested, nor in wine, nor in ill-humours. 
 This, a man may say, is beyond us. But the 
 philosophers of this day, passing by the first and 
 second parts of philosophy, occupy themselves in the 
 third, cavilling, and arguing by questions, and 
 constructing hypotheses and fallacies. For, they 
 say, when dealing with these subjects a man must 
 guard himself from delusion. Who must ? The wise 
 and good man. 
 
 2. And this security is all you lack, then ; the rest 
 you have wrought out already ? You are not to be 
 imposed upon by money ? and if you see a fair girl 
 you can hold out against the appearance ? and if 
 your neighbour inherits a legacy you are not envious ? 
 
54 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 there is now, in short, nothing lacking to you except 
 to confirm what you have ? Wretch ! these very 
 things dost thou hear in fear and anxiety lest some 
 one may despise thee, and inquiring what men say 
 about thee. And if someone come and tell you that 
 when it was discussed who was the best of the 
 philosophers, one present said, Such a one is the 
 greatest jphiloso'pher^ your little soul will grow up from 
 a finger’s breadth to two cubits. And if another who 
 was present said, Nothing of the hind; it is not worth 
 while to listen to him ; for what does he know ? he has 
 made a beginning in philosophy and no more, you are 
 amazed, you grow pale, and straightway you cry out, 
 I will show him who I am, that I am a great 
 philosopher. 
 
 Out of these very things it is seen what you are ; 
 why do you desire to show it by any others ? 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THAT A MAN MAY BE BOTH BOLD AND FEARFUL. 
 
 1. To some it may perchance seem a paradox, this 
 axiom of the philosophers ; yet let us make the best 
 inquiry we can if it be true that it is possible to do 
 all things at once with fearfulness and with boldness. 
 For fearfulness seemeth in a manner contrary to 
 boldness, and contraries can never coexist. But that 
 which to many seemeth a paradox in this matter 
 
MAN BOTH BOLD AND FEARFUL. 55 
 
 seems to me to stand somehow thus : If we affirmed 
 that both fearfulness and boldness could be used in 
 the very same things, they would justly accuse us 
 that we were reconciling what is irreconcilable. But 
 now, what is there so strange in this saying ? For if 
 it is sound, what hath been so often both affirmed and 
 demonstrated, that the essence of the Good is in the 
 use of appearances, and even so of the Evil, and things 
 uncontrollable by the Will have the nature neither of 
 good nor of evil, what paradox do the philosophers 
 affirm if they say that in things uncontrollable by 
 the Will, then be boldness thy part, and in things 
 subject to the Will, fearfulness. For if Evil lie in an 
 evil Will, then in these things alone is it right to use 
 fearfulness. And if things uncontrollable by the Will, 
 and that are not in our power, are nothing to us, then 
 in these things we should use boldness. And thus 
 shall we be at one time both fearful and bold — yea, 
 and bold even through our fearfulness. For through 
 being fearful in things that are veritably evil it 
 comes that we shall be bold in those that are not 
 so. 
 
 2. But we, on the contrary, fall victims as deer do. 
 When these are terrified and fly from the scares, 
 whither do they turn and to what do they retreat as 
 a refuge '? To the nets : and thus they perish, con- 
 fusing things to fear and things to be bold about. 
 And thus do we also. Where do we employ fear? 
 In things beyond our Will. And wherein do we act 
 boldly, as were there nothing to dread ? In things 
 subject to the Will. To be beguiled, then, or to be 
 
EPICTETUS. 
 
 56 
 
 rash, or to do some shameless act, or with base greed 
 to pursue some object — these things concern us no 
 whit if we may only hit the mark in things beyond 
 the Will. But where death is, or exile, or suffering, or 
 evil repute, there we run away, there we are scared. 
 Therefore, as it were to be looked for in those who 
 are astray in the things of greatest moment, we work 
 out our natural boldness into swaggering, abandon- 
 ment, rashness, shamelessness ; and our natural 
 fearfulness and shamefastness into cowardice and 
 meanness, full of terror and trouble. For if one 
 should transfer his fearfulness to the realm of the 
 Will, and the works thereof, straightway, together 
 with the intention of fearing to do wrong he shall 
 have it in his power to avoid doing it ; but if he use 
 it in things out of our own power and beyond the 
 Will, then striving to avoid things that are in others’ 
 power he shall of necessity be terrified and unsettled 
 and troubled. For death is not fearful, nor pain, 
 but the fear of pain or death. And thus we praise 
 him^ who said : 
 
 “ Fear not to die, but fear a coward’s death.” 
 
 3. It is right, then, that we should turn our bold- 
 ness against death, and our fearfulness against 
 the fear of death. But now we do the contrary: 
 death we flee from, but as to the state of our 
 opinion about death we are negligent, heedless, in- 
 different. These things Socrates did well to call bug- 
 bears. For as to children, through their inexperience, 
 ugly masks appear terrible and fearful ; so we are 
 
MAN BOTH BOLD AND FEARFUL. 57 
 
 somewhat in the same w^ay moved towards the affairs 
 of life, for no other cause than as children are affected 
 by these bugbears. For what b a child ? Ignorance. 
 What is a child ? That which has never learned. 
 For when he knows these things he is nowise 
 inferior to us. What is death ? A bugbear. Turn 
 it round; examine it: see, it does not bite. Now 
 or later that which is body must be parted from 
 that which is spirit, as formerly it was parted. 
 Why, then, hast thou indignation if it be now ? for if 
 it be not now, it will be later. And wherefore ? That 
 the cycle of the world may be fulfilled ; for it hath 
 need of a present and of a future and of a past. 
 What is pain ? A bugbear. Turn it about and examine 
 it. This poor body is moved harshly, then again 
 softly. If thou hast no advantage thereof, the door 
 is open;2 if thou hast, then bear it. For in all events 
 it is right that the door should stand open, and so 
 have we no distress. 
 
 4. Shall I, then, exist no longer ? Nay, thou shalt 
 exist, but as something else, whereof the universe 
 hath now need.^ For neither didst thou choose thine 
 own time to come into existence, but when the 
 universe had need of thee. 
 
 5. What, then, is the fruit of these opinions ? That 
 which ought to be the fairest and comeliest to those 
 who have been truly taught, — tranquillity, courage, 
 and freedom. For concerning these things, the mul- 
 titude are not to be believed which say that those 
 only should be taught who are freemen, but the 
 philosophers rather, which say that those only are 
 
58 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 free who have been taught. How is this ? It is 
 thus — Is freedom anything else than the power to 
 live as we choose ? Nothing else. Do ye choose, then, 
 to live in sin 1 We do not choose it. None, therefore, 
 that fears or grieves or is anxious is free ; but who- 
 soever is released from griefs and fears and anxieties 
 is by that very thing released from slavery. How, 
 then, shall we still believe you, most excellent legis- 
 lators, when ye say, ‘‘We permit none to be taught, 
 save freemen for the philosophers say, “ We permit 
 none to be free save those who have been taught — 
 that is, God permits it not. Soy when a man turns 
 round his slave before the Prcetor,^ has he done nothing? 
 He has done something. And what ? He has turned 
 round his slave before the Praetor. Nothing else at 
 all ? Yea, this too — he must pay for him the tax of 
 the twentieth. What then ? has the man thus treated 
 not gained his freedom ? No more than he has gained 
 tranquillity of mind. For thou, who art able to emanci- 
 pate others, hast thou no master 1 is money not thy 
 master, or lust, or a tyrant, or some friend of a tyrant ? 
 Why, then, dost thou tremble when thou art to meet 
 with some affliction in this kind ? And therefore I 
 say oftentimes, be these things your study, be these 
 things ever at your hand, wherein ye should be bold 
 and wherein fearful ; bold in things beyond the Will, 
 fearful in things subject to the Will. 
 
THE WISE MAN^S FEAR. 
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER VI.1 
 
 THE WISE man’s FEAR AND THE FOOL’S. 
 
 1. The appearances by which the mind of man is 
 smitten with the first aspect of a thing as it ap- 
 proaches the soul, are not matters of the will, nor can 
 we control them ; but by a certain force of their own 
 the objects which we have to comprehend are borne in 
 upon us. But that ratification of them, which we 
 name assent, whereby the appearances are compre- 
 hended and judged, these are voluntary, and are done 
 by human choice. Wherefore at a sound from the 
 heavens, or from the downfall of something, or some 
 signal of danger, or anything else of this kind, it must 
 needs be that the soul of the philosopher too shall be 
 somewhat moved, and he shall shrink and grow pale ; 
 not through any opinion of evil that he has formed, 
 but through certain rapid and unconsidered motions 
 that forestal the office of the mind and reason. Soon, 
 however, that philosopher doth not approve the 
 appearances to be truly objects of terror to his soul, — 
 that is to say, he assents not to them nor ratifies them ; 
 but he rejects them, and casts them out ; nor doth there 
 seem to be in them anything that he should fear. 
 But in this, say the philosophers, doth the wise man 
 difier from the fool, — that the fool thinks the appear- 
 ances to be in truth even so harsh and rough as they 
 seemed at their first shock upon the soul ; and taking 
 them, as at first, to be rightly dreaded, he thus ratifies 
 
6o 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 and approves them by his assent. The philosopher, 
 however, though for a short time his colour and 
 countenance have been changed, doth not then assent, 
 but he retains in its steadfastness and vigour the 
 opinion he ever had of these appearances, that they 
 are in no wise to be feared, but affright only by a 
 false show and empty threat. 
 
 2. Such as is a dish of water, such is the soul ; such 
 as is the ray of light that falleth on the same, such 
 are the appearances. When the water is moved, then 
 the ray seemeth also to be moved ; but it is not moved. 
 And thus when a man’s mind is darkened and dizzy, 
 it is not doctrines and virtues that are confounded, 
 but the spirit on which they are impressed. And if 
 that is restored, so are they.^ 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 APPEARANCES FALSE AND TRUE. 
 
 1. Appearances exist for us in four ways. Either 
 things appear even as they are ; or having no 
 existence, neither do they appear to have it; or they 
 exist, and appear not; or they exist not, and yet 
 appear. So, in all these cases, to hit the mark is the 
 work of him who hath been taught in philosophy. 
 
 2. But whatever it be that afflicts us, it is to that 
 thing that the remedy is to be applied. If it is the 
 
APPEARANCES PARSE AND TRUE, 6i 
 
 sophisms of the Pyrrhonists and Academics ^ that 
 afflict us, to them let us apply the remedy. If it is the 
 delusiveness of things, whereby that appeareth to be 
 good which is not so, to that let us seek for the remedy. 
 If a habit afflicts us, against that must we endeavour 
 to find some remedy. And what remedy is to be 
 found against a habit ? The contrary habit. Thou 
 hearest the ignorant when they say. The wretched 
 man is dead ; his father is perishing with grief for 
 him, or his mother ; he was cut off, yea, and untimely, 
 and in a strange land. Plearken, then, to the contrary 
 words. Tear thyself away from such utterances. 
 Against habit set the contrary habit. Against the 
 words of the Sophists have the maxims of philo- 
 sophers and the exercise and constant usage of them ; 
 against the delusiveness of things have clear natural 
 conceptions ever burnished and ready. 
 
 3. Whenever death may appear to be an evil, have 
 ready the thought that it is right to avoid evils, and 
 that death is unavoidable. For what shall I do ? 
 whither shall I flee from it ? Let it be granted that 
 I am no Sarpedon, son of Zeus, to speak in that lofty 
 style : I go, either to do great deeds myself, or to give 
 another the chance of doing them; though I myself fail 
 I shall not grudge it to another to do nobly. ^ Let it be 
 granted that this is above us ; still can we not at least 
 rise to the height of that ? And whither shall I flee 
 from death ? declare to me the place ; declare to me 
 the men among whom I shall go, to whom death 
 comes never near ; declare to me the charms against 
 it. If I have none, what would ye have me do 'I I 
 
62 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 cannot escape death — shall I not then escape the fear 
 of death 1 shall I die lamenting and trembling ? In 
 this is the source of suffering, to wish for something, 
 and that it should not come to pass ; and thence it is 
 that when I am able to alter outward things at my 
 desire, I do so, but when not, I am ready to tear out 
 the eyes of him that hindereth me. For man is so 
 made by nature that he will not bear to be deprived of 
 the Good nor to fall into the Evil. And in the end, 
 when I am neither able to alter outward things nor to 
 tear out the eyes of him that hindereth me, I sit 
 down and groan and rail on whomsoever I can, Zeus 
 and the other Gods; — for if they neglect me, what 
 have I to do with them? Yea, hut thou wilt he an 
 impious man. And how shall I be worse off than I am 
 now ? Here is the whole matter : Remember that 
 unless religion and profit meet in the same thing, 
 religion cannot be saved in any man. Do not these 
 things mightily convince of their truth ? 
 
 4. Let the Pyrrhonist and the Academic come and 
 make their attack — I, for my part, have no leisure for 
 such discussions, nor am I able to argue in defence of 
 general consent.^ For if I had a suit about a little 
 piece of land, would I not call in another to argue for 
 me ? Wherewith shall I be satisfied ? With that 
 which concerns the matter in hand. How perception 
 takes place, whether by the whole man or by parts, 
 perhaps I know not how to declare : both opinions 
 perplex me. But that thou and I are not the same 
 I know very clearly. Whence know you this? 
 Never, when I wish to eat, do I carry the morsel to 
 
HOW WE SHOULD THINK, 
 
 63 
 
 another man's mouth, but to my own. Never, when 
 I wish to take a piece of bread, do I lay hold of a 
 broom, but I always go to the bread, as to a mark. 
 And ye who deny the truth of perception, what do ye 
 other than I ? Which of you, desiring to go to the 
 bath, ever went into a mill ? Wlfiat then ? Ought 
 we not, according to our abilities, to busy ourselves with 
 the upholding of general consent, and raising defences 
 against all that opposeth the same 1 And who denies 
 it ? But let him do it that can, that hath leisure ; 
 but he that trembleth, and is troubled and his 
 heart is broken within him, let him spend his time 
 on something different. 
 
 CHAPTEK YIIl. 
 
 HOW WE SHOULD THINK AS GOD’S OFFSPEING. 
 
 1. If those things are true which are said by 
 philosophers concerning the kinship of God and 
 men, what else remains for men to do than after 
 Socrates' way, who never, when men inquired of 
 him what was his native country, replied Athens or 
 Corinth, but the universe. For why wilt thou say thou 
 art an Athenian, and not rather name thyself from 
 that nook alone into which thy wretched body was 
 cast at birth ? Is it not plainly from the lordlier 
 place, and that which contains not only that nook and 
 all thy household, but also the whole land whence the 
 
64 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 race of thy ancestors has come down even to thee, 
 that thou callest thyself Athenian or Corinthian ? 
 Whoso, therefore, hath watched the governance of the 
 universe, and hath learned that the greatest and 
 mightiest and amplest of all societies is that which is 
 composed of mankind and of God ; and that from 
 Him have descended the seeds not only to my father 
 alone, nor to my grandfather, but to all creatures that 
 are conceived and born upon the earth (but especially 
 to reasoning beings, since to these alone hath nature 
 given it to have communion and intercourse v/ith God, 
 being linked with Him through Reason), — wherefore 
 should such a one not name himself a citizen of the 
 universe ; wherefore not a son of God ? wherefore 
 shall he fear anything that may come to pass among 
 men ? And shall kinship with Caosar, or with some 
 other of those that are mighty at Rome, be enough 
 to let us live in safety and undespised and fearing 
 nothing at all ; but to have God for our maker and 
 father and guardian, shall this not avail to deliver us 
 from griefs and fears ? 
 
 Bui I have no money, saith one; whence shall 1 
 have bread to eat ? 
 
 2. Art thou not ashamed to be more cowardly and 
 spiritless than fugitive slaves are ? How do they 
 leave their masters when they run away ? in what 
 estates do they put their trust ? in what servants 1 
 After stealing a little to serve them for the first 
 few days, do they not^ afterwards journey by 
 land and sea, and make their living by one device 
 after another ? And when did ever any fugitive 
 
HO IV WE SHOULD THINK, 
 
 ^5 
 
 slave die of hunger ? But thou tremblest and sleepest 
 not of nights, for fear lest the necessaries of life fail 
 thee. Wretched man ! art thou thus blind ? and 
 seest not the road whither the want of necessaries 
 leads a man? And whither leads it? To the same 
 place that a fever doth, or a falling rock — to death. 
 Hast thou not often said this to thy friends ? and 
 often read aloud these things, and written them ? and 
 how often hast thou vaunted thyself that thou wert 
 at peace about death ? Yea^ but my dear ones shall 
 also suffer hunger. What then? Doth their hunger 
 lead to any other place than thine? Do they not 
 descend where thou descendest? Is there not one 
 underworld for them and thee ? Wilt thou not, then, 
 be bold in all poverty and need, looking to that place 
 whither the wealthiest of men, and the mightiest 
 governors, yea, and even kings and tyrants, must go 
 down ; thou, it may be, an-hungered, and they 
 bursting with indigestion and drunkenness ? 
 
 How seldom is it that a beggar is seen that is not 
 an old man, and even of exceeding age ? but freezing 
 by night and day, and lying on the ground, and 
 eating only what is barely necessary, they come near 
 to being unable to die. Canst thou not transcribe 
 writings ? canst thou not teach children ? or be some 
 man's door-keeper ? 
 
 But it is shameful to come to such a necessity ! 
 
 Then first of all learn what things are shameful, 
 and afterwards tell us thou art a philosopher. But 
 at present suffer not even another man to call thee so. 
 
 3. Is that shameful to thee which is not thine 
 
 541 
 
66 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 own doing, whereof thou art not the cause, which 
 cometh to thee without thy will, like a head- 
 ache or a fever ? If thy parents were poor, or 
 made others their heirs, or are alive and give 
 thee nothing, are these things shameful to thee ? Is 
 this what thou hast learned from the philosophers ? 
 Hast thou never heard that what is shameful is 
 blamable; and that which is blamable ought to be 
 blamed ? But what man wilt thou blame for a 
 work not his own, one that he himself never did? 
 And didst thou make thy father such as he is ? or was 
 it in thy power to correct him ? — is it given thee to do 
 this ? What then ? Oughtest thou to desire what is 
 not given to thee ? or to be ashamed if thou attain it 
 not ? Or hast thou been accustomed, in philosophy, to 
 look to others, and to hope for nothing from thyself ? 
 Lament, therefore, and groan, and eat thy bread in 
 fear, lest thou have nothing to eat on the morrow. 
 Tremble for thy slaves, lest they steal, or run away, 
 or die. Do thou live thus, now and ever, who hast 
 approached to the name only of philosophy, and hast - 
 brought the precepts of it to shame, so far as in thee 
 lies, showing them to be worthless and useless to 
 those who adopt them ; thou, who hast never striven 
 to gain steadfastness, tranquillity, peace ; that never 
 waited upon any man for the sake of these things, 
 but upon many for the sake of learning syllo- 
 gisms ; that never tested for thine own self any 
 one of these appearances : — Am I able to hear it, or am 
 I not able ? What, then, remains for me to do ? But, 
 as though all went fairly and safely with thee, thou 
 
HOW WE SHOULD THINK, 
 
 67 
 
 abidest in the final part of philosophy,^ that which 
 confirms beyond all change — and wherein wilt thou 
 be confirmed ? in cowardice, meanness, admiration of 
 wealth, in vain pursuit, and vain efiforts to avoid? 
 These are the things thou dost meditate how to 
 preserve unharmed. 
 
 4. Shouldst thou not have first have gained some- 
 thing from Reason, and then fortified this with 
 safety? Whom sawest thou ever building a coping 
 round about, and never a wall on which to place it ? 
 And what door-keeper is set on guard where there is 
 no door ? But thy study is how to prove proposi- 
 tions — and what proposition ? How the billows of 
 false reasonings may sweep thee not away — and away 
 from what? Show me first what thing thou art 
 guarding, or measuring, or weighing ; and afterwards 
 the scales or the measuring-rod. Or how long wilt 
 thou still be measuring the dust ? Are not these the 
 things it behoves thee to prove : — what it is that makes 
 men happy, what makes things proceed as we would 
 have them, how one should blame no man, accuse no 
 man, and fit oneself to the ordering of the All ? 
 Yea, prove me these ! But I do so, he saith. See ! I 
 resolve you syllogisms. Slave ! this is the measuring- 
 rod — it is not the thing measured. Wherefore now you 
 pay the penalty for philosophy neglected; you tremble, 
 you lie awake at nights, you seek counsel on every 
 hand, and if the counsels are not pleasing to all men, 
 you think they were ill-counselled. 
 
 5. Then you fear hunger, as you suppose. But it 
 is not hunger that you fear — ^you fear you will have 
 
68 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 no cook, nor nobody else to buy victuals for you, 
 nor another to take off your boots, nor another 
 to put them on, nor others to rub you down, nor 
 others to follow you about, so that when you have 
 stripped yourself in the bath, and stretched your- 
 self out as if you were crucified, you may be 
 rubbed to and fro, and then the rubber standing by 
 may say. Turn him round, give me his side, take hold 
 of his head, let me have his shoulder ; and then when 
 you leave the bath and go home you may shout. Is no 
 one bringing anything to eat ? and then. Take away the 
 plates, and wipe them. This is what you fear, — lest 
 you be not able to live like a sick man. But learn how 
 those live that are in health — slaves, and labourers, and 
 true philosophers ; how Socrates lived' who moreover 
 had a wife and children; how Diogenes lived; how 
 Cleanthes, that studied in the schools and drew his own 
 water.^ If you would have these things, they are 
 everywhere to be had, and you will live boldly. Bold 
 in what In that wherein alone it is possible to be 
 bold — in that which is faithful, which cannot be 
 hindered, which cannot be taken away. But why 
 hast thou made thyself so worthless and useless that 
 no one is willing to receive thee into his house or take 
 care of thee ? But if any utensil were thrown away, 
 and it was sound and serviceable, everyone that found 
 it would pick it up and think it a gain ; but thee no 
 man would pick up, nor count anything but damage. 
 So thou canst not so much as serve the purpose of a 
 watch-dog, or a cock ? Why, then, wilt thou still live, 
 being such a man as thou art ? 
 
HOW WE SHOULD THINK. 
 
 69 
 
 6. Doth any good man fear lest the means of 
 gaining food fail him They fail not the blind, nor 
 the lame ; shall they fail a good man "I To the good 
 soldier there fails not one who gives him pay, nor to 
 the labourer, nor to the shoemaker ; and shall such a 
 one fail to the good man ? Is God, then, careless of 
 His instruments. His servants. His witnesses, whom 
 alone He useth to show forth to the untaught what He 
 is, and that He governs all things well, and is not 
 careless of human things ^ and that to a good man 
 there is no evil, neither in life nor in death ? How, 
 then, when He leaves them without food ? How else is 
 this than as when a good general gives me the signal 
 for retreat 1 I obey, I follow, praising my leader and 
 hymning his works. For I came when it pleased 
 him, and when it pleases him I will go. In my life- 
 time also my work was to sing the praise of God, 
 both alone to myself, and to single persons, and in 
 presence of many. He doth not provide me with 
 many things, nor with great abundance of goods ; He 
 will not have me live delicately. For neither did He 
 provide so for Hercules, His own son, but another 
 man reigned over Argos and Mycenae, while he obeyed 
 and laboured and was disciplined. And Eurystheus 
 was what he was — no king of Argos and Mycenae, 
 who was not king even of himself ; and Hercules was 
 lord and leader of all the earth and sea, for he 
 purged them of lawlessness and wrong, and brought 
 in righteousness and holiness ; naked and alone did 
 he this. And when Odysseus was shipwrecked and 
 cast away, did his need humble him one whit or 
 
70 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 break his spirit? But how did he go out to the 
 maidens, to beg for the necessaries of life, which it is 
 held most shameful to seek from another ? 
 
 Even as a lion from his mountain home, 
 
 So went Odysseus trusting in his valour,** 
 
 — Odyssey, vi. 130. 
 
 Trusting in what ? Not in fame, nor wealth, but in 
 his own valour — that is, his opinions of the things 
 that are and are not in our power.^ For these alone 
 it is that make men free and unhindered ; that lift up 
 the heads of the abject, and bid them look rich men 
 and tyrants steadily in the face. And this was the 
 gift of the philosopher ; but thou wilt never go forth 
 boldly, but trembling for thy fine raiment and silver 
 dishes. Miserable man ! hast thou indeed thus wasted 
 all thy time till now ? 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE OPEN DOOR. 
 
 1. For my part I think the old man should be 
 sitting here, not to devise how ye may have no 
 mean thoughts, nor speak no mean nor ignoble 
 things about yourselves, but to watch that there 
 arise not among us youths of such a mind, that 
 when they have perceived their kinship with the 
 Gods, and how the flesh and its possessions are 
 
THE OPEN DOOR. 
 
 D 
 
 laid upon us like bonds, and how many necessities 
 for the management of life are by them brought upon 
 us, they may desire to fling these things away for 
 abhorred and intolerable burthens, and depart unto 
 their kin. And this is what your master and teacher 
 — if, in sooth, ye had any such — should have to 
 contend with in you, — that ye should come to him and 
 say, E'picteUis, we can endure no longer being hound to 
 this bodyy giving it food and drink, and resting it and 
 cleansing it, and going about to court one man after 
 another for its sake. Are not such things indifferent 
 and nothing to us ? And is not Death no evil ? Are 
 we not in some way kinsmen of God, and did we not 
 come from him ? Let us depart to whence we came ; 
 let us be delivered at last from these bonds wherewith 
 we are hound and burthened ! Here are robbers, and 
 thieves, and law courts, and those that are called 
 tyrants, which through the body and its possessions seem 
 as if they had some power over us. Let us show them 
 that they have no power over any man ! And to this it 
 should be my part to say, ‘‘My friends, wait upon 
 God. When He himself shall give the signal and 
 release you from this service, then are ye released 
 unto Him. But for the present, bear to dwell in this 
 place, wherein He has set you. Short, indeed, is this 
 time of your sojourn, and easy to bear for those that 
 are so minded. For what tyrant or what thief is 
 there any longer, or what court of law is terrible to 
 one who thus makes nothing of the body and the 
 possessions of it ? Remain, then, and depart not 
 without a reason.” Some such part as this should the 
 
72 EPICTETUS. 
 
 teacher have to play towards the well-natured among 
 his disciples. 
 
 2. How long, then, are such injunctions to be 
 obeyed ? So long as it is profitable — that is to say, so 
 long as I can do what becomes and befits me. Then 
 some men are choleric and fastidious, and say, ‘‘I 
 cannot sup with this man, to have to hear him 
 every day telling how he fought in Mysia.’^ I told 
 you, brother, how I went up the hill — then again I 
 began to be besieged. . • . But another saith, “I 
 prefer to have my supper, and listen to him prating 
 as long as he likes.’’ And do thou compare the gain 
 on both sides— only do naught in heaviness or 
 affliction, or as supposing that thou art in evil case. 
 For to this no man can compel thee. Doth it smoke 
 in the chamber ? if it is not very much I will stay, 
 if too much, I will go out; for remember this always, 
 and hold fast to it, that the door is open. Thou shalt 
 not live in Nicopolis. I will not. Nor in Athens. 
 I will not live in Athens. Nor in Rome. Neither in 
 Rome. Live in Gyara.^ I will live in Gyara. But 
 living in Gyara seemeth to me like a great smoke. I 
 will depart, whither no man shall hinder me to dwell 
 — for that dwelling stands ever open to all. 
 
 3. Only do it not unreasonably, nor cowardly, nor 
 make every common chance an excuse. For again, it 
 is not God’s will, for He hath need of such an order of 
 things, and of such a race upon the earth. But if He 
 give the signal for retreat, as He did to Socrates, we 
 must obey Him as our commander. 
 
KNOW THYSELR 
 
 73 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 KNOW THYSELF. 
 
 1. If a man have any advantage over others, or 
 think himself to have it when he hath it not, it cannot 
 but be that if he is an untaught man he shall be puffed 
 up by it. Thus the tyrant says, 1 am he that is 
 master of all. And what can you give me Can you 
 set my pursuit free of all hindrance? How is it in 
 you to do that ? For have you the gift of never 
 falling into what you shun ? or never missing the mark 
 of your desire? And whence have you it? Come, 
 now, in a ship do you trust to yourself or to the 
 captain? or in a chariot, to "^anyone else than the 
 driver ?^ And how will you do with regard to other 
 acts? Even thus. Where, then, is your power ? All 
 men minister to me. And do I not minister to my 
 plate, and I wash it and wipe it, and drive in a peg 
 for my oil-flask ? What then, are these things greater 
 than I? Nay, but they supply certain of my needs, 
 and for this reason I take care of them. Yea, and do 
 I not minister to my ass ? Do I not wash his feet and 
 groom him ? Know you not that every man ministers 
 to himself ? And he ministers to you also, even as he 
 doth to the ass. For who treats you as a man ? Show 
 me one that doth. Who wisheth to be like unto you ? 
 who becomes your imitator, as men did of Socrates ? 
 But I can cut off thy head. You say well. I had 
 forgotten that I must pay regard to you as to a fever 
 
74 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 or the cholera ; and set up an altar to you, as there is 
 in Rome an altar to Fever. 
 
 2. What is it, then, whereby the multitude is 
 troubled and terrified ? The tyrant and his guards 1 
 Never — God forbid it ! It is not possible that that 
 which is by nature free should be troubled by any 
 other thing, or hindered, save by itself. But it is 
 troubled by opinions of things. For when the tyrant 
 saith to anyone, I will hind thy leg, then he who 
 setteth store by his leg saith, Nay, have pity ! but he 
 that setteth store by his own Will, If it seem more 
 profitable to you, then hind it 
 
 “Dost thou not regard me ? ” 
 
 I do not regard you. I will show you that I am 
 master. How can you be that? Me hath God set 
 free ; or think you that he would let his own son be 
 enslaved ? You are lord of my dead body — take 
 that. 
 
 “ So when thou comest near to me, thou wilt 
 
 not do me service ? 
 
 Nay, but I will do it to myself ; and if you will 
 have me say that I do it to you also, I tell you that 
 I do it as to my kitchen pot. 
 
 3. This is no selfishness ; for every living creature 
 is so made that it doth all things for its own sake. 
 For the sun doth all things for his own sake, and so, 
 moreover, even Zeus himself. But when He will be 
 Raingiver and Fruitgiver and Father of Gods and 
 men, thou seest that He may not do these works and 
 have these titles, but He be serviceable to the common 
 good. And, on the whole, He hath so formed the 
 
KNOW THYSELF. 
 
 75 
 
 nature of the reasoning creature that he may never 
 win aught of his own good without he furnish some- 
 thing of service to the common good. Thus it is not 
 to the excluding of the common good that a man do 
 all things for himself. For is it to be expected that a 
 man shall stand aloof from himself and his own 
 interest 'I And where* then would be that same and 
 single principle which we observe in all things, their 
 affection to themselves ? 
 
 4. So, then, when we act on strange and foolish 
 opinions of things beyond the Will, as though they 
 were good or evil, it is altogether impossible but 
 we shall do service to tyrants. And would it were 
 to the tyrants alone, and not to their lackeys also ! 
 
 6. But what hinders the ^man that hath dis- 
 tinguished these things to live easily and docile, 
 looking calmly on all that is to be, and bearing 
 calmly all that is past? Will you have me bear 
 poverty ? Come, and see what poverty is when it 
 strikes one that knoweth how to play the part well. 
 Will you have me rule ? Give me power, then, and the 
 pains of it. Banishment^ Whithersoever I go, it 
 shall be well with me ; for in this place it was well 
 with me, not because of the place, but because of the 
 opinions which I shall carry away with me. For 
 these no man can deprive me of. Yea, these only are 
 mine own, whereof I cannot be deprived, and they 
 suflSice for me as long as I have them, wherever I be, 
 or whatever I do. 
 
 6. ‘‘ But now is the time come to die.’' 
 
 What say you ? to die ? Nay, make no tragedy of 
 
76 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 the business, but tell it as it is. Now is it time for my 
 substance to be resolved again into the things where- 
 from it came together. And what is dreadful in this ? 
 What of the things in the universe is about to perish ? 
 What new, or what unaccountable thing is about to 
 come to pass ? Is it for these things that a tyrant is 
 feared ? through these that the guards seem to bear 
 swords so large and sharp ? Tell that to others ; hut 
 by me all these things have been examined ; no man 
 hath power on me. I have been set free by God, I 
 know His commandments, henceforth no man can lead 
 me captive. I have a liberator^ such as I need, and 
 judges such as I need. Are you not the master of my 
 body ? What is that to me ? Of my property ? 
 What is that to me ^ Of exile or captivity ? Again, 
 I say, from all these things, and the poor Jbody itself, 
 I will depart when you will. Try your power, and 
 you shall know how far it reaches. 
 
 7. But the tyrant will bind — what? The leg. 
 He will take away — what ? The head. What, 
 then, can he not bind and not take away? The 
 Will. And hence that precept of the ancients— Know 
 Thyself. 
 
 8. Whom, then, can I still fear ? The lackeys of the 
 bed-chamber? For what that they can do? Shut me 
 out ? Let them shut me out, if they find me wishing 
 to go in. 
 
 « Why, then, didst thou go to the doors ? ” 
 
 Because I hold it proper to join the play while the 
 play lasts. 
 
 “ How, then, shalt thou not be shut out ? ” 
 
KNOW THYSELF 
 
 77 
 
 Because if I am not received, I do not wish to enter ; 
 but always that which happens is what I wish. For 
 I hold what God wills above what I will. I cleave to 
 Him as His servant and follower ; my impulses are 
 one with His, my pursuit is one with His ; in a word, 
 my will is one with His. There is no shutting out for 
 me — ^nay, but for those who would force their way in. 
 And wherefore do I not force my way ? Because I 
 know that no good thing is dealt out within to those 
 that enter. But when I hear some one congratulated 
 on being honoured by Caesar, I say, What hath fortune 
 brought him ? A government ? Has it also, then, 
 brought him such an opinion as he ought to have ? 
 A magistracy ? Hath he also gained the power to be 
 a good magistrate ? Why will I still push myself 
 forward ? A man scatters figs and almonds abroad ; 
 children seize them, and fight among themselves ; but 
 not so men, for they hold it too trifiing a matter. And 
 if a man should scatter about oyster-shells, not even 
 the children would seize them. Offices of government 
 are dealt out — children will look for them ; money is 
 given — children will look for it ; military commands, 
 consulships — let children scramble for them. Let 
 them be shut out and smitten, let them kiss the hands 
 of the giver, of his slaves — it is figs and almonds to 
 me. What then? If thou miss them when he is 
 fiinging them about, let it not vex thee. If a fig fall 
 into thy bosom, take and eat it, for so far even a fig is 
 to be valued. But if I must stoop down for it, and 
 throw down another man, or another throw me down, 
 and I fiatter those who enter in, then neither is a 
 
78 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 fig worth so much, nor is any other of the things that 
 are not good, even those which the philosophers 
 have persuaded me not to think good. 
 
 CHAPTEH XU 
 
 HOW WE SHOULD BEAR OURSELVES TOWARDS EVIL 
 MEN. 
 
 1. If that which the philosophers say is true — that 
 there is one principle in all men, as when I assent 
 to something, the feeling that it is so; and when 
 I dissent, the feeling that it is not so; yea, and 
 when I withhold my judgment, the feeling that it 
 is uncertain ; and likewise, when I am moved to- 
 wards anything, the feeling that it is for my profit, 
 but it is impossible to judge one thing to be 
 profitable and to pursue another, to judge one 
 thing right and be moved towards another — why 
 have we indignation with the multitude They are 
 robbers, one saith, and thieves. And what is it to be 
 robbers and thieves ? It is to err concerning things 
 good and evil. Shall we, then, have indignation with 
 them, or shall we pity them ? Nay, but show them 
 the error, and you shall see how they will cease from 
 their sins. But if they see it not, they have naught 
 better than the appearance of the thing to them. 
 
 2. Should not, then, this robber, or this adulterer, be 
 destroyed ? By no means, but take it rather this 
 
HOW WE SHOULD BEAR OURSELVES, 79 
 
 way : This man who errs and is deceived concerning 
 things of greatest moment^ %dio is blinded^ not in the 
 vision which dlstinguisheth black and white, but in 
 the judgment which distinguisheth Good and Evil — 
 should we not destroy him ? And thus speaking, you 
 shall know how inhuman is that which you say, and 
 how like as if you said, Shall we not destroy this blind 
 man, this deaf man ^ For if it is the greatest injury 
 to be deprived of the greatest things, and the greatest 
 thing in every man is a Will such as he ought to have, 
 and one be deprived of this, why are you still indignant 
 with him ? Man, you should not be moved contrary 
 to Nature by the evil deeds of other men. Pity him 
 rather, be not inclined to offence and hatred, abandon 
 the phrases of the multitude, like “ these cursed 
 wretches.” How have you suddenly become so wise 
 and hard to please 1 
 
 3. Wherefore, then, have we indignation ? Because 
 we worship the things which they deprive us of. Do 
 not worship fine raiment, and you shall not be wroth 
 with the thief. Do not worship the beauty of a 
 woman, and you shall not be wroth with the 
 adulterer. Know that the thief and the adulterer 
 have no part in that which is thine own, but in that 
 which is foreign to thee, in that which is not in thy 
 power. These things if thou dismiss, and count them 
 for naught, with whom shalt thou still be wroth? 
 But so long as thou dost value these things, be wroth 
 with thyself rather than with others. 
 
 4. Look now how it stands : You have fine raiment, 
 your neighbour has not; you have a window, and 
 
8o 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 wish to air your clothes at it. The neighbour knoweth 
 not what is the true good o£ man, but thinks it is to 
 have fine raiment, the same thing that you also think. 
 Then shall he not come and take them away i Show a 
 cake to greedy persons, and eat it up yourself alone, 
 and will you have them not snatch at it*? Nay, but 
 provoke them not. Have no window, and do not air 
 your clothes. I also had lately an iron lamp set 
 beside the images of the Gods ; hearing a noise at the 
 door, I ran down, and found the lamp carried off. I 
 reflected that the thief's impulse was not unnatural. 
 What then ? To-morrow^ I said, thou wilt find an 
 earthen lamp.^ For a man loses only what he has. I 
 have lost a garment. For you had a garment. I have 
 a pain in my head. Have you any pain in your 
 horns ? Why, then, have you indignation *2 For there 
 is no loss and no suffering save only in those things 
 which we possess. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 
 
 Even as in a sea voyage, when the ship is brought 
 to anchor, and you go out to fetch in water, you make 
 a by-work of gathering a few roots and shells by the 
 way, but have need ever to keep your mind fixed on 
 the ship, and constantly to look round, lest at any time 
 the master of the ship call, and you must, if he call, 
 
THE MARK OF EFFORT. 
 
 8i 
 
 cast away all those things, lest you be treated like the 
 sheep that are bound and thrown into the hold : So 
 it is with human life also. And if there be given 
 wife and children instead of shells and roots, nothing 
 shall hinder us to take them. But if the master call, 
 run to the ship, forsaking all those things, and looking 
 not behind. And if thou be in old age, go not far 
 from the ship at any time, lest the master should call, 
 and thou be not ready. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 THE MARK OF EFFORT. 
 
 1. Seek not to have things happen as you choose 
 them, but rather choose them to happen as they 
 do, and so shall you live prosperously. 
 
 2. Disease is a hindrance of the body, not of the 
 Will, unless the Will itself consent. Lameness is a 
 hindrance of the leg, not of the Will. And this you 
 may say on every occasion, for nothing can happen to 
 you but you will find it a hindrance not of yourself 
 but of some other thing. 
 
 3. What, then, are the things that oppress us and 
 perturb us ? What else than opinions ? He that 
 goeth away and leaveth his familiars and companions 
 and wonted places and habits — with what else is he 
 oppressed than his opinions ? Now, little children, if 
 they cry because their nurse has left them for a while, 
 
 542 
 
82 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 straightway forget their sorrow when they are given 
 a small cake. Wilt thou be likened unto a little 
 child ? 
 
 ^^'Nay, by Zeus! for I would not be thus 
 
 affected by a little cake, but by right opinions.” 
 
 And what are these ? 
 
 They are such as a man should study all day long 
 to observe — that he be not subject to the effects of 
 any thing that is alien to him, neither of friend, nor 
 place, nor exercises ; yea, not even of his own body, 
 but to remember the Law, and have it ever before his 
 eyes. And what is the divine Law ? To hold fast 
 that which is his own, and to claim nothing that is 
 another's ; to use what is given him, and not to covet 
 what is not given ; to yield up easily and willingly 
 what is taken away, giving thanks for the time that he 
 has had it at his service. This do — or cry for the nurse 
 and mamma; for what doth it matter to what or 
 whom thou art subject, from what thy welfare hangs ? 
 Wherein art thou better than one who bewails himself 
 for his mistress, if thou lament thy exercises and 
 porticoes and comrades, and all such pastime % Another 
 cometh, grieving because he shall no more drink of the 
 water of Dirce. And is the Marcian water worse than 
 that of Dirce ? 
 
 But I was used to the other.” 
 
 And to this also thou shalt be used ; and when thou 
 art so affected towards it, lament for it too, and try to 
 make a verse like that of Euripides — 
 
 “ The baths of Nero and the Marcian stream. 
 
THE MARK OF EFFORT. 
 
 Behold how tragedies are made, when common chances 
 happen to foolish men ! 
 
 4. ‘'But when shall I see Athens and the 
 
 Acropolis again ? ” 
 
 Wretched man ! doth not that satisfy thee which 
 thou seest every day ? Hast thou aught better or 
 greater to see than the sun, the moon, the stars, the 
 common earth, the sea? But if withal thou mark 
 the way of Him that governeth the whole, and 
 bear Him about within thee, wilt thou still long 
 for cut stones and a fine rock ? And when thou shalt 
 come to leave the sun itself and the moon, what wilt 
 thou do ? Sit down and cry, like the children ? What, 
 then, wert thou doing in the school ? What didst thou 
 hear, what didst thou learn ? Why didst thou write 
 thyself down a philosopher, when thou mightest have 
 written the truth, as thus : — I made certain heginningSy 
 and read Chrysippus, hut did not so much as enter the 
 door of a philosopher ? For how shouldst thou have 
 aught in common with Socrates, who died as he died, 
 who lived as he lived — or with Diogenes ? Dost thou 
 think that any of these men lamented or was indig- 
 nant because he should see such a man or such a 
 woman no more ? or because he should not dwell in 
 Athens or in Corinth, but, as it might chance, in Susa 
 or Ecbatana ? When a man can leave the banquet or 
 the game when he pleases, shall such a one grieve if 
 he remains ? Shall he not, as in a game, stay only so 
 long as he is entertained ? A man of this stamp would 
 easily endure such a thing as perpetual exile or 
 sentence of death. 
 
84 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 Wilt thou not now be weaned as children are, and 
 take more solid food, nor cry any more after thy 
 mother and nurse, wailing like an old woman '2 
 
 But if I quit them I shall grieve them.” 
 
 Thou grieve them ? Never ; but that shall grieve 
 them which grieveth thee — Opinion. What hast thou, 
 then, to do? Cast away thy own bad opinion; and 
 they, if they do well, will cast away theirs; if not, 
 they are the causes of their own lamenting. 
 
 5. Man, be mad at last, as the saying is, for peace, 
 for freedom, for magnanimity. Lift up thy head, as 
 one delivered from slavery. Dare to look up to God 
 and say : Deal with me henceforth as thou %uilt ; I am 
 of one mind with thee ; I am thine. I reject nothing 
 that seems good to thee; lead me whithersoever thou 
 wilt, clothe me in what dress thou wilt. Wilt thou 
 have me govern or live 'privately, or stay at home, or 
 go into exile, or he a poor man, or a rich ? For all 
 these conditions I will he thy advocate with men — I 
 show the nature of each of them, what it is. 
 
 Nay, but sit in a corner and wait for thy mother to 
 feed thee.^ 
 
 6. Who would Hercules have been if he had sat at 
 home? He would have been Eurystheus, and not 
 Hercules. And how many companions and friends 
 had he in his journeying about the world? But 
 nothing was dearer to him than God ; and for this he 
 was believed to be the son of God, yea, and was the 
 son of God. And trusting in God, he went about 
 purging away lawlessness and wrong. But thou art 
 no Hercules, and canst not purge away evils not thine 
 
FACULTIES. 
 
 85 
 
 own? nor yet Theseus, who cleared Attica of evil 
 things? Then clear away thine own. From thy 
 breast, from thy mind cast out, instead of Procrustes 
 and Sciron, grief, fear, covetousness, envy, malice, 
 avarice, effeminacy, profligacy. And these things 
 cannot otherwise be cast out than by looking to God 
 only, being affected only by him, and consecrated to 
 his commands. But choosing anything else than this, 
 thou wilt follow with groaning and lamentation 
 whatever is stronger than thou, ever seeking pros- 
 perity in things outside thyself, and never able to 
 attain it. For thou seekest it where it is not, and 
 neglectest to seek it where it is. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FACULTIES. 
 
 Remember at anything that shall befall thee to turn 
 to thyself and seek what faculty thou hast for making 
 use of it. If thou see a beautiful person, thou wilt 
 find a faculty for that — namely, self-mastery. If 
 toil is laid upon thee, thou wilt find the faculty of 
 Perseverance. If thou art reviled, thou wilt find 
 Patience. And making this thy wont, thou shalt not 
 be carried away by the appearances. 
 
86 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 RETURNS. 
 
 Never in any case say, I have lost such a thing, but I 
 have returned it ? Is thy child dead ? it is returned. 
 Is thy wife dead ? she is returned. Art thou deprived 
 of thy estate ? is not this also returned ? 
 
 “ But he is wicked who deprives me of it ! ” 
 
 But what is that to thee, through whom the Giver 
 demands his own ? As long, therefore, as he grants it 
 to thee, steward it like another's property, as travellers 
 use an inn. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE PRICE OF TRANQUILLITY. 
 
 1. If you would advance in philosophy you must 
 abandon such thoughts as. If I neglect my affairs I 
 shall not have the means of living. If I do not correct 
 my servant he will he good for nothing. For it is 
 better to die of hunger, having lived without grief 
 and fear, than to live with a troubled spirit amid 
 abundance. And it is better to have a bad servant 
 than an afflicted mind. 
 
 2. Make a beginning, then, in small matters. Is a 
 
A CHOICE, 
 
 87 
 
 little of your oil spilt, or a little wine stolen ? Then 
 say to yourself, For so much peace is bought, this is 
 the price of tranquillity. For nothing can be gained 
 without paying for it. And when you call your 
 servant, bethink you that he may not hear, or, hearing, 
 may not obey. For him, indeed, that is not well, but 
 for you it is altogether well that he have not the 
 power to trouble your mind. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A CHOICE. 
 
 If thou wouldst advance, be content to let people 
 think thee senseless and foolish as regards external 
 things. Wish not ever to seem wise, and if ever thou 
 shalt find thyself accounted to be somebody, then 
 mistrust thyself. For know that it is not easy to 
 make a choice that shall agree both with outward 
 things and with Nature, but it must needs be that he 
 who is careful of the one shall neglect the other. 
 
88 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THAT WHERE THE HEART IS THE BOND IS. 
 
 1. Thou art a fool if thou desire wife and children 
 and friends to live forever, for that is desiring things 
 to be in thy power which are not in thy power, and 
 things pertaining to others to be thine own. So also 
 thou art a fool to desire that thy servant should never 
 do anything amiss, for that is desiring evil not to be 
 evil, but something else. But if thou desire never to 
 fail in any pursuit, this thou canst do. This, therefore, 
 practice to attain — namely, the attainable. 
 
 2. The lord of each of us is he that hath power over 
 the things that we desire or dislike, to give or to take 
 them away. Whosoever, then, will be free, let him 
 neither desire nor shun any of the things that are in 
 others’ power ; otherwise he must needs be enslaved. 
 
 3. Wherefore Demetrius^ said to Nero, You threaten 
 me with deaths hut Nature threatens you. If I am 
 taken up with my poor body, or my property, I have 
 given myself over to slavery ; for I immediately show 
 of my own self with what I may be captured. As 
 when a snake draws in his head, I say. Strike at that 
 part of him which he guards. And know thou, that 
 at the part thou desirest to guard, there thy master 
 will fall upon thee. Remembering this, whom wilt 
 thou still flatter or fear ? 
 
 4. Think that thou shouldst conduct thyself in life 
 as at a feast. Is some dish brought to thee ? Then 
 
THAT WE LAMENT NOT FROM WITHIN 89 
 
 put forth thy hand and help thyself in seemly 
 fashion. Doth it pass thee by ? Then hold it not 
 back. Hath it not yet come? Then do not reach 
 out for it at a distance, but wait till it is at thine 
 hand. And thus doing with regard to children and 
 wife and governments and wealth, thou wilt be a 
 worthy guest at the table of the Gods. And if thou 
 even pass over things that are offered to thee, and 
 refuse to take of them, then thou wilt not only share 
 the banquet, but also the dominion of the Gods. For 
 so doing Diogenes and Heracleitus, and the like, 
 both were, and were reported to be, rightly divine. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THAT WE LAMENT NOT FROM WITHIN. 
 
 When thou seest one lamenting in grief because his 
 son is gone abroad, or because he hath lost his goods, 
 look to it that thou be not carried away by the 
 appearance to think that he hath truly fallen into 
 misfortune, in outward things. But be the thought 
 at hand. It is not the thing itself that afflicts this man 
 — since there are others whom it afflicts not — but the 
 opinion he has about it And so far as speech, be not 
 slow to fit thyself to his mood, and even if so it be to 
 lament with him. But have a care that thou lament 
 not also from within. 
 
90 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THAT A MAH MAY ACT HIS PART BUT NOT CHOOSE IT. 
 
 1. Remember that thou art an actor in a play, of 
 such a part as it may please the director to assign 
 thee ; of a short part if he choose a short part ; of a 
 long one if he choose a long. And if he will have 
 thee take the part of a poor man or of a cripple, or a 
 governor, or a private person, mayest thou act that 
 part with grace 1 For thine it is to act well the 
 allotted part, but to choose it is another’s. 
 
 2. Say no more then How will it he with me ? for 
 however it be thou wilt settle it well, and the issue 
 shall be fortunate. What would Hercules have been 
 had he said. How shall I contrive that a great lion may 
 not appear to me, or a great hoar, or a savage man ? 
 And what hast thou to do with that if a great boar 
 appear, thou wilt fight the greater fight ; if evil men, 
 thou wilt clear the earth of them. But if I die thus ? 
 Thou wilt die a good man, in the accomplishing of a 
 noble deed. For since we must by all means die, a 
 man cannot be found but he will be doing somewhat, 
 either tilling or digging or trading or governing, or 
 having an indigestion or a diarrhoea. What wilt thou, 
 then, that Death shall find thee doing ? I, for my part, 
 will choose some work, humane, beneficent, social, noble. 
 But if I am not able to be found doing things of this 
 greatness, then, at least, I will be doing that which 
 none can hinder me* to do, that which is given to me 
 
THAT A MAN MA Y ACT HIS PART 91 
 
 to do — namely, correcting myself, bettering my faculty 
 for making use of appearances, working out my 
 peace, giving what is due in every obligation of 
 life; and if I prosper so far, then entering upon the 
 third topic of philosophy, which concerneth the 
 security of judgments. 
 
 3. If Death shall find me in the midst of these 
 studies, it shall suffice me if I can lift up my hands to 
 God and say. The means which thou gavest me for the 
 perceiving of thy government, and for the following 
 of the same, have I not neglected : so far as in me lies, 
 I have not dishonoured thee. Behold how I have used 
 my senses, and my natural conceptions. Have I ever 
 blamed thee? was I ever offended at aught that 
 happened, or did I desire it should happen otherwise? 
 Did I ever desire to transgress my obligations? That 
 thou didst beget me I thank thee for what thou gavest : 
 I am content that I have used thy gifts so long. Take 
 them again, and set them in what place thou wilt, for 
 thine were all things, and thou gavest them me, 
 
 4. Is it not enough to depart in this condition ? 
 and what life is better and fairer than one like this, 
 and what end more happy ? 
 
92 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DISTINCTIONS. 
 
 1. When a raven croaks you a bad omen, be not 
 carried away by the appearance ; but straightway 
 distinguish with yourself and say, None of these things 
 bodes aught to myself hut either to this poor body or 
 this wretched property of mine, or to my good repute, 
 or to my children, or to my wife. But to me all omens 
 are fortunate, if I choose to have it so. For whatever 
 of these things may come to pass, it lies with me to 
 have it serve me. 
 
 2. You may be always victorious if you will never 
 enter into any contest but where the victory depends 
 upon yourself. 
 
 3. When you shall see a man honoured above others, 
 or mighty in power, or otherwise esteemed, look to it 
 that thou deem him not blessed, being carried away by 
 the appearance. For if the essence of the Good be in 
 those things that are in our own power, then neither 
 envy nor jealousy have any place, nor thou thyself 
 shalt not desire to be commander or prince or consul, 
 but to be free. And to this there is one road — scorn 
 of the things that are not in our own power. 
 
 4. Remember, it is not he that strikes or he that 
 reviles that doth any man an injury, but the opinion 
 about these things, that they are injurious. When, 
 then, someone may provoke thee to wrath, know that 
 it is thine own conception which hath provoked thee. 
 
MAJV IS SUFFICIENT TO HIMSELF, 93 
 
 Strive, therefore, at the outset not to be carried away 
 by the appearance; for if thou once gain time and 
 delay, thou wilt more easily master thyself. 
 
 5. Death and exile, and all things that appear 
 dreadful, let these be every day before thine eyes. 
 But Death most of all ; for so thou wilt neither 
 despise nor too greatly desire any condition of life. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXII. 
 
 THAT A MAN IS SUFFICIENT TO HIMSELF. 
 
 1 . If thou set thine heart upon philosophy, prepare 
 straightway to be laughed at and mocked by many 
 who will say, Behold, he has suddenly come hack to us 
 a 'philosopher; or. How came you hy that brow of scorn? 
 But do thou cherish no scorn, but hold to those things 
 that seem to thee the best, as one set by God in that 
 place. Kemember, too, that if thou abide in that way, 
 those that first mocked thee, the same shall after- 
 wards reverence thee ; but if thou yield to them, thou 
 shalt receive double mockery. 
 
 2. If it shall ever happen to thee to be turned to 
 outward things in the desire to please some person, 
 know that thou hast lost thy way of life. Let it be 
 enough for thee in all things to he a philosopher. But 
 if thou desire also to seem one, then seem so to thyself, 
 for this thou canst. 
 
94 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THAT EVERY MAN FULFIL HIS OWN TASK. 
 
 1. Let such thoughts never afflict thee as, I shall 
 live unhonoured, and never he anybody anywhere. For 
 if lack of honour be an evil, thou canst no more fall 
 into evil through another's doings than into vice. Is 
 it, then, of thy own doing to be made a governor, or 
 invited to feasts 1 By no means. How, then, is this 
 to be unhonoured ? How shouldst thou never he any- 
 body anywhere, whom it behoves to be somebody only 
 in the things that are in thine own power, wherein it 
 lies with thee to be of the greatest worth ? 
 
 2. But I shall not he able to serve my friends. How 
 sayst thou ? to serve them ? They shall not have 
 money from thee, nor shalt thou make them Roman 
 citizens. Who, then, told thee that these were of the 
 things that are in our power, and not alien to us ? 
 And who can give that which himself hath not ? 
 
 3. Acquire, then, they say, that we may possess. If 
 I can acquire, and lose no,t piety, and faith, and 
 magnanimity withal, show me the way, and I will do 
 it. But if ye will have me lose the good things I pos- 
 sess, that ye may compass things that are not good at 
 all, how unjust and unthinking are ye! But which 
 will ye rather have — money, or a faithful and pious 
 friend ? Then, rather take part with me to this end ; 
 and ask me not to do aught through which I must 
 cast away those things. 
 
THE WORLD^S WORTH 
 
 95 
 
 4. Bxity he saith, I shall not do my part in serving 
 my country. Again, what is this service ? Thy 
 country shall not have porticos nor baths from thee, 
 and what then ? Neither hath she shoes from the 
 smith, nor arms from the cobbler ; but it is enough if 
 every man fulfil his own task. And if thou hast 
 made one other pious and faithful citizen for her, 
 art thou, then, of no service ? Wherefore, neither 
 shalt thou be useless to thy country. 
 
 5. What place, then, he saith, can I hold in the 
 
 State ? Whatever place thou canst, guarding still 
 thy faith and piety. But if in wishing to serve 
 her thou cast away these things, what wilt thou 
 profit her then, when perfected in shamelessness and 
 faithlessness ? , 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE world's price FOR THE WORLD'S WORTH. 
 
 1. Is some one preferred before thee at a feast, or 
 in salutation, or in being invited to give counsel ? 
 Then, if these things are good, it behoves thee rejoice 
 that he hath gained them ; but if evil, be not vexed 
 that thou hast not gained them ; but remember that 
 if thou act not as other men to gain the things that 
 are not in our own power, neither canst thou be held 
 worthy of a like reward with them. 
 
96 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 2. For how is it possible for him who will not hang 
 about other men’s doors to have a like reward with 
 him who doth so ? or him who will not attend on 
 them with him who doth attend ? or him who will 
 not flatter them with the flatterer ? Thou art unjust, 
 then, and insatiable, if thou desire to gain those 
 things for nothing, without paying the price for 
 which they are sold. 
 
 3. But how much is a lettuce sold for ? A penny, 
 perchance. If anyone, then, will spend a penny, he 
 shall have lettuce ; but thou, not spending, shalt not 
 have. But think not thou art worse off than he ; 
 for as he has the lettuce, so thou the penny which 
 thou wouldst not give. 
 
 4. And likewise in this matter. Thou art not 
 invited to some man’s feast ? That is, for thou gavest 
 not to the host the price of the supper ; and it is sold 
 for flattery, it is sold for attendance. Pay, then, the 
 price, if it will profit thee, for which the thing is sold. 
 But if thou wilt not give the price, and wilt have the 
 thing, greedy art thou and infatuated. 
 
 5. Shalt thou have nothing, then, instead of the 
 supper ? Thou shalt have this — not to have praised 
 one whom thou hadst no mind to praise, and not to 
 have endured the insolence of his door-keepers. 
 
THE MIND'S SECURITY. 
 
 97 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 AIMS OF NATUKE. 
 
 1. The will of Nature is to be learned from matters 
 which do not concern ourselves.^ Thus, when a boy 
 may break the cup of another man, we are ready to 
 say, It is a common chance. Know, then, that when 
 thine own is broken, it behoves thee to be as though 
 it were another man’s. And apply this even to 
 greater things. Has another man’s child died, or his 
 wife who is there that will not say. It is the lot of 
 humanity. But when his own may die, then straight- 
 way it is, Alas, wretched that I am ! But we should 
 bethink ourselves what we felt on hearing of others in 
 the same plight. 
 
 2. As a mark is not set up to be missed, even so the 
 nature of evil exists not in the universe. 
 
 CHAPTER XXTX 
 
 THE mind’s SECUKITY. 
 
 If anyone should set your body at the mercy of 
 every passer-by, you would be indignant. When, 
 therefore, you set your own mind at the mercy of 
 every chance, to be troubled and perturbed when 
 anyone may revile you, have you no shame of this ^ 
 
 543 
 
98 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THAT A MAN SHOULD BE ONE MAN. 
 
 1. In every work you will take in hand mark well 
 what must go before and what must follow, and so 
 proceed, For else you shall at first set out eagerly, 
 as not regarding what is to follow ; but in the end, if 
 any difficulties have arisen, you will leave it oflF with 
 shame. 
 
 2. So you wish to conquer in the Olympic games % 
 And I, too, by the Gods ; and a fine thing it would be. 
 But mark the prefaces and the consequences, and then 
 set to work. You must go under discipline, eat by 
 rule, abstain from dainties, exercise yourself at the 
 appointed hour, in heat or cold, whether you will or 
 no, drink nothing cold, nor wine at will ; in a word, 
 you must give yourself over to the trainer as to a 
 physician. Then in the contest itself there is the 
 digging race,^ and you are like enough to dislocate 
 your wrist, or turn your ankle, to swallow a great 
 deal of dust, to be soundly drubbed, and after all these 
 things to be defeated. 
 
 3. If, having considered these things, you are still in 
 the mind to enter for the contest, then do so. But 
 without consideration you will turn from one thing to 
 another like a child, who now plays the wrestler, 
 now the gladiator, now sounds the trumpet, then 
 declaims like an actor ; and so you, too, will be first an 
 
THAT A MAN SHOULD BE ONE MAN 99 
 
 athlete, then a gladiator, then an orator, then a philo- 
 sopher, and nothing with your whole soul ; but as an 
 ape you will mimic everything you see, and be 
 charmed with one thing after another. For you 
 approached nothing with consideration nor regularity, 
 but rashly, and with a cold desire. 
 
 4. And thus some men, having seen a philosopher, 
 and heard discourse like that of Euphrates^ (yet who 
 indeed can say that any discourse is like his?) desire 
 that they also may become philosophers. 
 
 5. But, O man ! consider first what it is you are 
 about to do, and then inquire of your own nature 
 whether you can carry it out. Will you be a pen- 
 tathlos,^ or a wrestler ? Then, scan your arms and 
 thighs ; try your loins. For difierent men are made 
 for different ends. 
 
 6. Think you, you can be a sage, and continue to 
 eat and drink and be wrathful and take ofience just 
 as you were wont ? Nay, but you must watch and 
 labour, and withdraw yourself from your household, 
 and be despised by any serving boy, and be ridiculed 
 by your neighbours, and take the lower place every- 
 where, in honours, in authority, in courts of justice, 
 in dealings of every kind.^ 
 
 7. Consider these things — whether you are willing 
 at such a price to gain peace, freedom, and an 
 untroubled spirit. And if not, then attempt it not, 
 nor, like a child, play now the philosopher, then the 
 tax-gatherer, then the orator, then the Procurator of 
 Caesar. For these things agree not among them- 
 selves ; and, good or bad, it behoves you to be one 
 
lOO 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 man. You should be perfecting either your own 
 ruling faculty, or your outward well-being ; spending 
 your art either on the life within or the life without ; 
 that is to say, you must hold your place either among 
 the sages or the vulgar. 
 
 End of Book II. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OBLIGATIONS. 
 
 1. Obligations are universally defined by the bonds 
 of relation. Is such a man your father ? Then it is 
 implied that you are to take care of him, to give 
 place to him in all things, tp bear his rebukes, his 
 chastisement. But if he he a bad father? Were you 
 then related by any law of Nature to a good father ? 
 Nay, but simply to a father. Your brother does you 
 wrong. Then guard your own place towards him, nor 
 scrutinise what he is doing, but what you may do to 
 keep your will in accord with Nature. For none other 
 shall hurt you, if yourself choose it not, but you shall 
 be hurt then when you conceive yourself to be so. 
 
 2. Thus shall you discover your obligations from 
 the offices of a neighbour, a citizen, a general, if you 
 will accustom yourself to watch the relationships. 
 
102 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AGAINST EPICUKUS. 
 
 1. Even Epicurus is conscious that we are by nature 
 social, but having once placed the Good in the husk,^ 
 he cannot thereafter speak anything but what agrees 
 with this; for again he affirms, and rightly affirms, 
 that nothing is to be admired or received that is 
 separated from the nature of the Good. How then, 
 Epicurus, do you suspect that we are social, if Nature 
 had given us no affection for our offspring Where- 
 fore do you counsel the sage against bringing up 
 children ? Why do you fear lest he fall into sorrow 
 by so doing ? Doth he fall into sorrow for the mouse 
 that lives in his house ? What careth he if a little 
 mouse complain to him at home. But he knows well 
 that if a little child be born, it is no longer in our 
 power not to love it and be anxious for it. 
 
 2. Thus, too, he saith that no man of sense will 
 take part in affairs of the state, for he knows what he 
 who takes part in them must do ; but what should 
 hinder one to take part, if he may behave among men 
 as in a swarm of flies ? But Epicurus, knowing these 
 things, dares to say that we should not rear up our 
 children. But even a sheep will not desert its young, 
 nor a wolf ; and shall a man ? What ! will you have 
 us to be silly creatures, like the sheep ? Yet they 
 desert not their young. Or savage, like wolves ? 
 Yet even they desert them not. Come, then, who 
 
AGAINST EPICURUS 
 
 103 
 
 would obey you if he saw his little child fall on the 
 ground and cry ? For my part, I suppose that had it 
 been prophesied to your mother and your father that 
 you would say these things, not even so would they 
 have cast you out. 
 
 3. But how can it he said of these outward things^ 
 that they are according to Nature, or contrary ta 
 Nature ? That is to speak as if we were solitary 
 and disunited from others. For to the foot I shall 
 say it is according to Nature that it be clean ; but if 
 you take it as a foot, and not as a solitary thing, it 
 shall beseem it to go into the mud, and to tread on 
 thorns, and perchance to be cut off, for the sake of 
 the whole ; otherwise it is no longer a foot. 
 
 4. And some such thing we should suppose about 
 ourselves also. What art thou? A man. Look at 
 thyself as a solitary creature, and it is according to 
 Nature to live to old age, to grow rich, to keep good 
 health. But if thou look at thyself as a man, and as 
 a part of a certain Whole, for the sake of that Whole 
 it may become thee now to have sickness, now to sail 
 the seas and run into peril, now to suffer need, and 
 perchance to die before thy time. 
 
 5 . Why, then, dost thou bear it hard ? Knowest 
 thou not, that as the foot alone is not a foot, so thou 
 alone art not a man ? For what is a man? A part 
 of a polity, first of that which is made up of Gods and 
 men ; then of that which is said to be next to the 
 other, which is a small copy of the Universal Polity. 
 
 6. Then must I now he brought to trial, and now 
 must another have a fever, and another sail the seas. 
 
104 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 another die, another he sentenced ? Yea, fc^ with such 
 a body, in the bounds of such a universe, in such a 
 throng of inhabitants, it cannot be but that different 
 things of this nature should fall on different persons. 
 This is thy task then, having come into the world, to 
 speak what thou shouldst, and to order these things 
 as it is fitting. 
 
 7. Then someone saith, I charge yon with wrong- 
 doing, Much good may it do thee ! I have done my 
 part — look to it thyself if thou have done thine, for 
 of this too there is some danger, lest it escape thee. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AGAINST THE EPICUREANS AND ACADEMICS. 
 
 1. Beliefs which are sound and manifestly true are 
 of necessity used even by those who deny them. And 
 perhaps a man might adduce this as the greatest 
 possible proof of the manifest truth of anything, that 
 those who deny it are compelled to make use of it. 
 Thus, if a man should deny that there is anything 
 universally true, it is clear that he is obliged to affirm 
 the contrary, the negation — that there is nothing uni- 
 versally true. Slave ! not even this — for what is this 
 but to say that if there is anything universal it is 
 falsehood ? 
 
 2. Again, if one should come and say, Know that 
 
AGAINST THE EPICUREANS. 
 
 los 
 
 nothing can he known, hut all things are incapable of 
 proof; or another, Believe me, and it shall profit thee, 
 that no man ought to believe any man; or, again, 
 another, Learn from me, 0 man, that it is not possible 
 to learn anything, and I tell thee this, and I will teach 
 thee, if thou wilt — now wherein do such men differ 
 from those — whom shall I say? — those who call them- 
 selves Academics ? Assent, 0 men, that no man can 
 assent to aught ; believe us that no man can believe 
 any one. 
 
 3. Thus Epicurus, when he would abolish the natural 
 fellowship of men with one another, employeth the 
 very thing that is being abolished. For what saith 
 he ? Be not deceived, 0 men, nor misguided nor mis- 
 taken — there is no natural felloivship among reasoning 
 beings, believe me; and those who speak otherwise 
 deceive us with sophisms. What is that to thee ? let 
 us be deceived ! Will it be the worse for thee if all 
 other men are persuaded that we have a natural 
 fellowship with one another, and that we should in 
 all ways maintain it ? Nay — but much the better 
 and safer. Man, why dost thou take thought for us, 
 and watch at night for our sakes ? Why dost thou 
 kindle thy lamp and rise early h why dost thou write 
 so many books, lest any of us should be deceived about 
 the Gods, in supposing that they cared for men ? or 
 lest anyone should take the essence of the Good to be 
 anything else than Pleasure ? For if these things are 
 so, then lie down and sleep, and live the life of a 
 worm, wherefor thou hast judged thyself fit ; eat 
 and drink and cohabit and ease thyself and snore. 
 
io6 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 What is it to thee how other men think concerning 
 these matters, whether soundly or unsoundly ? What 
 hast thou to do with us ? With sheep hast thou 
 some concern, for that they serve us when they are 
 shorn, and when they are milked, and at last when 
 they have their throats cut. Were it not, then, to 
 be desired, if men could be lulled and charmed 
 to slumber by the Stoics, and give themselves to 
 thee and the like of thee, to be shorn and 
 milked ? These things shouldst thou say to thy 
 brother Epicureans ; but shouldst thou not keep 
 them hidden from other men, and seek in every 
 way to persuade them above all things that we are 
 by nature social, and that temperance is good; in 
 order that everything may be kept for thee? Or 
 should we preserve this fellowship with some and 
 not with others ? With whom, then, should we 
 preserve it ? With those who also preserve it 
 towards us, or with those who transgress it? And 
 who transgress it more than ye, who set forth such 
 doctrines ? 
 
 4. What, then, was it that roused up Epicurus 
 from his sleep, and compelled him to write the things 
 he wrote ? What else than Nature, the mightiest of 
 all powers in humanity ? Nature, that drags the 
 man, reluctant and groaning, to her will. For^ saith 
 she, since it seems to thee that there is* no fellowship 
 among men, write this down, and deliver it to others, 
 and watch and wake for this, and be thyself by thine 
 own deed the accuser of thine own opinions. Shall we 
 then, say that Orestes was driven by the Furies and 
 
AGAINST THE EPICUREANS. 
 
 107 
 
 aroused from sleep, and did not crueller Furies and 
 Avengers rouse this man as he slumbered, and 
 suffered him not to rest, but compelled him, as 
 madness and wine the priests of Cybele,^ to proclaim 
 his own evils ? So mighty and invincible a thing is 
 man’s nature. 
 
 5. For how can a vine be affected, and not in the 
 nanner of a vine, but of an olive ? Or how, again, can 
 an olive be affected not in the manner of an olive but 
 of a vine ^ It is impossible, it cannot be conceived. 
 Neither, then, is it possible for a man wholly to lose 
 the affections of humanity, for even eunuchs cannot 
 cut away from themselves the desires of men. And 
 thus Epicurus has cut away all that belongs to a man 
 as father of a family, and as Citizen, and as friend ; 
 but the desires of humanity he hath not cut away, for 
 he could not ; no more than these pitiful Academics 
 are able to cast away or to blind their own percep- 
 tions, although this is the thing that they have striven 
 with all their zeal to do. 
 
 6. How shameful is this ! that a man having 
 received from Nature measures and canons for the 
 recognition of truth, should study not to add to them 
 and perfect them where they are wanting, but the 
 very contrary of this ; if there be anything that may 
 lead us to the knowledge of the truth, they strive to 
 abolish and destroy it. 
 
 7. What sayest thou, philosopher ? religion and 
 holiness, what dost thou take them for 
 
 “ If thou wilt, I shall prove that they are good.” 
 
 So be it ; prove it then, in order that our citizens 
 
io8 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 may be converted and honour the Divinity, and be no 
 longer neglectful of the greatest things. 
 
 “ Now hast thou received the proofs ? ” 
 
 I have, and am thankful therefor. 
 
 8. “ Now since thou art exceedingly well 
 
 pleased with these things, hear the contrary : There are 
 no Gods, or if there be, they have no care for men, nor 
 have we any communion with them ; and this religion 
 and holiness, whereof the multitude babble, is the lying 
 of impostors and sophists, or of legislators, by Zeus ! 
 for the frighting and restraining of evil-doers.” 
 
 Well said, philosopher ! the citizens shall have much 
 profit of thee ! thou hast already brought back all our 
 youths to the contempt of sacred things. 
 
 ‘‘ What now ? are these doctrines not pleasing 
 
 to thee ? Learn, then, that Righteousness is nothing, 
 that Reverence is folly, that a father is nothing, a son 
 nothing.” 
 
 Well said, philosopher ! proceed, persuade the 
 young, that we may multiply the number of those 
 who believe and speak with thee. From these teach- 
 ings have grown our well-governed States, from these 
 did Sparta spring, and these beliefs, by his laws and 
 discipline, did Lycurgus plant among his people : — 
 That slavery is no more base than honourable, nor to 
 be free men more honourable than base. Through 
 these opinions died those who fell at Thermopylae, 
 and through what others did the Athenians forsake 
 their city 
 
 9. Then those who speak such things marry, and 
 beget children, and take part in public affairs, and 
 
ON SLA VER K 
 
 109 
 
 make themselves priests and augurs — of what? Of 
 beings that do not exist ! and they question the 
 Pythian oracle that they may learn falsehoods ; and 
 they declare the oracles to others. O monstrous 
 impudence and imposture ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON SLAVERY. 
 
 1. A CERTAIN man having inquired how one may 
 make his meals in a manner pleasing to the Gods, If 
 he do it uprightly, said Epictetus, and considerately, 
 and equably, and temperately, and orderly, shall it not 
 also be thus pleasing to the Gods ? But when you 
 ask for hot water, and the boy does not hear, or, 
 hearing, brings it only luke-warm ; or if he is not even 
 to be found in the house, then is it not pleasing to the 
 Gods if you refrain from indignation, and do not burst 
 with passion ? JIow shall one endure such fellows ? 
 Wretch, wilt thou not bear with thine own brother, 
 who is of the progeny of Zeus, like a son . sprung 
 of the same seed as thyself, and of the same heavenly 
 descent, but thou must straightway make thyself a 
 tyrant, for the place of command in which thou art 
 set ? Wilt thou not remember who thou art, and 
 whom thou rulest — that they are kinsmen, brethren 
 by nature, the progeny of Zeus ? But I have bought 
 them, and they have not bought me ! Seest thou, then. 
 
no 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 whither thou art looking — towards the earth, towards 
 the pit of perdition, towards these miserable laws of 
 dead men ? but towards the laws of the Gods thou 
 dost not look. 
 
 2. That which thou wouldst not suffer thyself, seek 
 not to lay upon others. Thou wouldst not be a slave 
 — look to it, that others be not slaves to thee. For if 
 thou endure to have slaves, it seems that thou thy- 
 self art first of all a slave. For virtue hath no 
 communion with vice nor freedom with slavery. 
 
 3. As one who is in health would not choose to be 
 served by the sick, nor that those dwelling with him 
 should be sick, so neither would one that is free bear 
 to be served by slaves, or that those living with him 
 should be slaves.^ 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TO THE ADMINISTRATOR OF THE FREE CITIES, WHO 
 WAS AN EPICUREAN. 
 
 1. The Administrator^ having visited him (and this 
 man was an Epicurean), It is proper, said Epictetus, 
 that ignorant people like us should inquire of you 
 that are philosophers (as men who come into a strange 
 city make inquiry of the citizens and those familiar 
 with the place) what is the chief thing in the world, to 
 the end that, having learned it, we may go in search of 
 it, and behold it, as men do with objects in the cities. 
 
TO THE ADMINISTRATOR, 
 
 III 
 
 2. Now, that there are three things with which man 
 is concerned — soul, and body, and the outer world — ■ 
 scarce anyone will deny. It remaineth, then, for men 
 like ye to answer which is the chief of these things ? 
 What shall we declare to men ? Is it the flesh ? And 
 was it for this that Maximus sent forth his son, and 
 sailed with him through the tempest as far as 
 Cassiope,^ for somewhat that he should feel in the 
 flesh ? 
 
 3. But the Epicurean denying this, and saying, 
 Ood forbid, Epictetus said : 
 
 Is it not flt, then, that we should be zealous about 
 that, the chief thing ? 
 
 Of all things most flt.” 
 
 What, then, have we greater than the flesh ? 
 
 '' The soul,” he said. 
 
 And the good of the chief thing, is it greater than 
 the good of the lower thing ? 
 
 The good of the chief thing is greater.” 
 
 And the good things of the soul, are they in the 
 power of the Will, or beyond the Will ? 
 
 They are in the power of the Will.” 
 
 The pleasure of the soul, then, is within the power 
 of the Will ? 
 
 He assented. 
 
 And this pleasure itself, whence may it arise ? 
 From itself ? But this is inconceivable ; for we must 
 suppose some original substance of the Good, whereof 
 the soul doth make us sensible when we light upon it. 
 
 This, too, he admitted. 
 
 Wherein, then, are we sensible of this spiritual 
 
II2 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 pleasure ? for if it be in spiritual things, the nature of 
 the Good is discovered. For the Good cannot be some- 
 thing different from the thing that justly delights us; 
 nor, if the original thing be not good, can aught be 
 good that proceeds from it ; for, in order that the 
 thing proceeding may be good, the original thing must 
 be good also. But this ye would never say, if ye had 
 your wits, for so ye would speak things that agree not 
 with Epicurus and the rest of your opinions. It 
 remains, then, that we are conscious in bodily things 
 of this pleasure of the soul, and again, that these are 
 the original things and the very substance of the 
 Good.3 
 
 4. Wherefore Maximus did foolishly if he made his 
 voyage for the sake of anything else than the flesh ; 
 that is, than the chief thing. And any man doth 
 foolishly who restrain eth himself from others’ good, 
 if he be a judge, and able to take them. But, 
 if you please, let us regard this only, how it may be 
 done secretly and safely, and so that none may know 
 it. For neither does Epicurus himself declare stealing 
 to be bad, but only to be caught stealing; and because 
 it is impossible to be certain of no discovery, therefore 
 he saith, Ye shall not steal. But I say that if we 
 steal with skill and discretion, we shall not be caught. 
 And, moreover, if we have powerful friends among 
 men and women at Rome, and the Greeks are feeble, 
 no one will dare to go thither on this score. Why do 
 you refrain from your own good ? This is foolish — 
 this is absurd. But not even if you tell me you do 
 refrain will I believe you. For, as it is impossible to 
 
TO THE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 
 assent to anything that appeareth to be a falsehood, 
 or to turn away from what appeareth to be true, even 
 so it is impossible to withhold oneself from anything 
 that appeareth to be good. But riches are a good, and, 
 at all events, the most potent means of pleasure. 
 Wherefore, then, not compass them % And why not 
 corrupt our neighbour's wife, if we may do it secretly ? 
 and also, if the husband talk nonsense about it, let us 
 fling him out ! If you will be a true and perfect 
 philosopher, and obedient to your own doctrines, thus 
 must you do; but if you do not, you differ no whit from 
 us that are called Stoics. For truly we ourselves say 
 one thing and do another ; we speak fair and honest 
 things, and do vile ones. But the opposite distemper 
 will be thine — a vile creed and' honourable deeds. 
 
 5. And you think, God help you ! of a city of 
 Epicureans 1 / cZo not marry. Nor I ; for it is not 
 right to marry ^ nor beget children^ nor take part in 
 public affairs. What will come to pass then ? 
 Whence shall we have citizens ? who shall educate 
 them ? who shall be the overseer of youth who 
 the director of gymnastics ? and how shall the 
 youth be trained up ? as the Lacedaemonians ? or as 
 the Athenians ? Take me a youth, and bring him 
 up after these doctrines of thine ! Evil are they, 
 subversive of States, mischievous to households, un- 
 becoming to women. Abandon them, man! Thou 
 dwellest in a chief city ; it is thy part to rule, to 
 judge righteously, to refrain from other men's goods ; 
 nor must any woman seem beautiful to thee save thine 
 own wife, nor vessel of gold or silver. Seek for 
 
 S44 
 
EPICTETUS. 
 
 114 
 
 doctrines in harmony with these words, from which 
 setting out thou mayest with gladness abandon things 
 so potent to attract and overcome. But if beside the 
 seduction of these things we have sought out some 
 philosophy like this that pushes us towards them, and 
 confirms us in them, what shall come of it ? 
 
 6. In the graver’s work, which is the chief thing ? 
 the silver or the art ? The substance of the hand is 
 flesh, but the main things are the works of the hand. 
 The obligations, therefore, are also three — those that 
 concern us, firstly, in that we are ; and secondly, as 
 we are ; and thirdly, the main things themselves. 
 And thus in man, too, it is not meet to value the 
 material, this flesh, but the- main things. What are 
 these ? To take part in public affairs, to marry, to 
 beget children, to fear God, to care for parents, and, 
 in general, to pursue, to avoid, to desire, to dislike, as 
 each of these things should be done, as Nature made 
 us to do. And how made she us ? To be free, 
 generous, pious. For what other creature blushes ? 
 what other is capable of the sense of shame ? 
 
 7. And to these things let Pleasure be subject as a 
 minister, a servant, that she may summon forth our 
 ardour, and that she also may aid in works that are 
 according to Nature.® 
 
 8. ‘‘ But I am a wealthy man, and have no need 
 
 of aught.” 
 
 Why, then, dost thou profess philosophy] Thy 
 vessels of gold and vessels of silver are enough for 
 thee ; what need hast thou of doctrines ] 
 
 — —“But I am also a judge of the Greeks 1” 
 
TO THE ADMINISTRATOR. 
 
 IIS 
 
 Dost thou know how to judge — who made thee 
 know ? 
 
 Caesar wrote me a commission.” 
 
 Let him write thee a commission to be a judge of 
 music, and what help will it be to thee ? And how 
 didst thou become a judge by kissing of what man’s 
 hand*! Was it that of Symphorus or Numenius? 
 Before whose bed-chamber didst thou sleep? To 
 whom didst thou send gifts ? Dost thou not perceive, 
 then, that to be a judge is worth just as much as 
 Numenius is worth ? 
 
 “ But I can cast into prison whom I will.” 
 
 As if he were a stone. 
 
 But I can flog any man I will.” 
 
 As if he were an ass. This is no government of 
 men. Kule us as reasoning beings ; show us what is 
 for our good, and we shall follow it ; show us what is 
 for our ill, and we shall turn away from it ; make us 
 emulators of thyself, as Socrates made his disciples. 
 He, indeed, was one that governed men as men, who 
 made them subject unto him in their pursuit and 
 their avoidance, their desire and dislike. Bo this, do 
 not thisy or I will cast thee into 'prison. This is not 
 the rule of reasoning beings. But, As Zeus hath 
 ordered, so do thou act ; but if thou dost not, thou shalt 
 suffer loss and hurt What hurt ? None other than 
 this — not to have done what it behoved thee to do. 
 Thou shalt lose faith, piety, decency — look for no 
 greater injuries than these. 
 
ii6 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 ON STATECKAFT. 
 
 1. Not with the stones of Euboea and Sparta let 
 the structure of your city walls be variegated ; but let 
 the discipline and teaching that comes from Greece 
 penetrate with order the minds of citizens and states- 
 men. For with the thoughts of men are cities well 
 established, and not with wood and stone. 
 
 2. If thou wouldst have a household well established, 
 then follow the example of the Spartan Lycurgus. 
 For even as he did not fence the city with walls, but 
 fortified the inhabitants with virtue, and so preserved 
 the city free for ever, thus do thou not surround 
 thyself with a great court and set up lofty towers, but 
 confirm the dwellers in the house with goodwill, and 
 faith, and friendliness, and no harmful thing shall 
 enter ; no, not if the whole army of evil were arrayed 
 against it. 
 
 3. Which of us will not admire Lycurgus, the 
 Lacedaemonian ? For having lost an eye at the hands 
 of one of the citizens, and having received the young 
 man from the people that he should punish him as he 
 would, he refrained from this ; but having taught him 
 and proved him to be a good man, he brought him 
 into the theatre. And when the Lacedasrnonians 
 marvelled, I received this man from yoUy he said, 
 insolent and violent; I give him hack to yon mild 
 and civil. 
 
ON FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 117 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ON FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 1. Whereinsoever a man is zealous, this, it is fair 
 to suppose, he loveth. Are men, then, zealous for evil 
 things ? Never.^ Or, perchance, for things which 
 do not concern them ? Nor for them either. It 
 remaineth, then, that they are zealous about good 
 things only ; and that if they are zealous about them, 
 they also love them. Whosoever, then, hath under- 
 standing of good things, the same would know how 
 to love. But he who is not able to distinguish good 
 things from evil, and things that are neither from 
 both, how could this man yet be capable of loving ? 
 To love, then, is a quality of the wise alone. 
 
 2. And how is this, saith one, for I am foolish^ and 
 none the less do I love my child. By the Gods ! I 
 wonder, then, how you have begun by confessing your- 
 self to be foolish. For wherein do you lack ? Do 
 you not use your senses'^ do you not judge of 
 appearances ? do you not bring to the body the 
 nourishment it needeth, and the covering and 
 habitation 1 Wherefore, then, confess yourself to be 
 a fool ? Because, forsooth, you are often perplexed 
 by appearances, and troubled, and you are vanquished 
 by their plausibility ; and you take the same things 
 to be now good, and now evil, and then indifferent ; 
 and, in a word, you grieve and fear and envy, and are 
 
iiS 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 troubled, and changed — for these things you confess 
 yourself a fool. 
 
 3. But do you never change in lovel But is it 
 wealth, and pleasure, and, in short, things alone that 
 you sometimes take to be good and sometimes evil ? 
 and do you not take the same men to be now good, 
 now evil ? and sometimes you are friendly disposed 
 towards them, and sometimes hostile ? and sometimes 
 you praise them, and sometimes you blame ? 
 
 Yea, even so I do.” 
 
 What then ? a man who hath been deceived about 
 another, is he, think you, his friend 1 
 
 “ Assuredly not.” 
 
 And one who hath taken a friend out of a humour 
 for change, hath he good-will towards him ? 
 
 “Nor he either.” 
 
 And he who now reviles another, and afterwards 
 reveres him % 
 
 “Nor he.” 
 
 What then? Sawest thou never the whelps of a 
 dog, how they fawn and sport with each other, that 
 you would say nothing can be more loving ? But to 
 know what friendship is, fling a piece of flesh among 
 them, and thou shalt learn. And cast between thee 
 and thy child a scrap of land, and thou shalt learn 
 how the child will quickly wish to bury thee, and thou 
 wilt pray that he may die. And then thou wilt say. 
 What a child have I nourished ! this long time he is 
 burying me ! Throw a handsome girl between you, 
 and the old man will love her, and the young too f 
 and if it be glory, or some risk to run, it will be on 
 
ON FRIENDSHIP, 
 
 119 
 
 the same fashion. You will speak the words of the 
 father of Admetus^ : — 
 
 “ Day gladdens thee ; think’st thou it glads not me ? 
 
 Thou lovest light ; think’st thou I love the dark 
 
 Think you this man did not love his own child 
 when it was little ? nor was in agony if it had a 
 fever ? nor said many a time, Would that I had the 
 fever rather than he! Then when the trial cometh 
 and is near at hand, lo, what words they utter ! And 
 Eteocles and Polyneices,^ were they not children of 
 the same mother and the same father ? were they not 
 brought up together, did they not live together, drink 
 together, sleep together, and often kiss one another ? 
 So that anyone who saw them, I think, would have 
 laughed at the philosophers, for the things they say 
 perversely about friendship. But when royalty, like 
 a piece of flesh, hath fallen between them, hear what 
 things they speak : — 
 
 Pol, Where wilt thou stand before the towers ? 
 
 Et, Wherefore seekest thou to know ? 
 
 Pol, There I too would stand and slay thee, 
 
 Et, Thou hast spoken my desire. 
 
 4. For universally, be not deceived, nothing is so 
 dear to any creature as its own proflt. Whatsoever 
 may seem to hinder this, be it father or child or 
 friend or lover, this he will hate and abuse and curse. 
 For Nature hath never so made anything as to love 
 aught but its own profit : this is father and brother 
 and kin and country and God. When, then, the Gods 
 appear to hinder us in this, we revile even them, and 
 
120 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 overthrow their images and burn their temples; as 
 Alexander, when his friend died, commanded to burn 
 the temples of Esculapius. 
 
 5. Therefore, if a man place in the same thing both 
 profit and holiness, and the beautiful and father- 
 land, and parents and friends, all these things shall be 
 saved ; but if he place profit in one thing, and 
 friends and fatherland and kinsfolk, yea, and 
 righteousness itself some other where, all these things 
 shall perish, for profit shall outweigh them. For 
 where the I and the Mine are, thither, of necessity, 
 inclineth every living thing : if in the flesh, then the 
 supremacy is there ; if in the Will, it is there; if in 
 outward things, it is there. If, then, mine I is where 
 my Will is, thus only shall I be the friend I should be, 
 or the son or the father. For my profit then will be 
 to cherish faith and piety and forbearance and 
 continence and helpfulness ; and to guard the bonds 
 of relation. But if I set Myself in one place and 
 Virtue some otherwhere, then the word of Epicurus 
 waxeth strong, which declareth that there is no 
 Virtue, or, at least, that Virtue is but conceit. 
 
 6. Through this ignorance did Athenians and 
 Lacedaemonians quarrel with each other, and The- 
 bans with both of them, and the Great King with 
 Hellas, and Macedonians with both of them, and 
 even now Romans with Getae ; and through this yet 
 earlier the wars of Ilion arose. Paris was the guest 
 of Menelaus; and if anyone had seen how friendly- 
 minded towards each other they were, he would have 
 disbelieved anyone who said they were not friends. 
 
ON FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 121 
 
 But a morsel was flung between them — a fair woman, 
 and about her there was war. And now when you see 
 friends or brothers that seem to be of one mind, argue 
 nothing from this concerning their friendship; nay, 
 not if they swear it, not if they declare that they can- 
 not be parted from each other. For in the ruling faculty 
 of a worthless man there is no faith ; it is unstable, 
 unaccountable, victim of one appearance after another. 
 But try them, not, as others do, if they were born of 
 the same parents and nurtured together, and under 
 the same tutor ; but by this alone, wherein they place 
 their profit, whether in outward things or in the 
 will. If in outward things, call them no more friends 
 than faithful or steadfast or bold or free; yea, nor 
 even men, if you had sense. For that opinion hath 
 nothing of humanity that makes men bite each other, 
 and revile each other, and haunt the wildernesses, or 
 the public places, like the mountains,® and in the 
 courts of justice to show forth the character of 
 thieves; nor that which makes men drunkards and 
 adulterers and corruptors, nor whatever other ills 
 men work against each other through this one and 
 only opinion, that They and Theirs lie in matters 
 beyond the Will. But if you hear, in sooth, that these 
 men hold the Good to be there only where the Will is, 
 where the right use of appearances is, then be not 
 busy to inquire if they are father and son, or brothers, 
 or have long time companied with each other as 
 comrades; but, knowing this one thing alone, argue 
 confidently that they are friends, even as they are 
 faithful and upright. For where else is friendship 
 
122 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 than where faith is, where piety is, where there is 
 an interchange of virtue, and none of other things 
 than that ? 
 
 7. Bui such a one hath shown kindness to me so long^ 
 and is he not my friend ? Slave, whence knowest 
 thou if he did not show thee kindness as he wipes his 
 shoes or tends his beast ? Whence knowest thou if, 
 when thy use is at an end as a vessel, he will not cast 
 thee away like a broken plate ? But she is my wife^ 
 and we have lived together so long ? And how long 
 lived Eriphyle with Amphiaraus, and was the mother, 
 yea, of many children ? But a necklace came between 
 them.® But what is a necklace ? It is the opinion 
 men have concerning such things. That was the wild 
 beast nature, that was the sundering of love, that 
 which would not allow the woman to be a wife, or 
 the mother a mother. And of you, whosoever hath 
 longed either to be a friend himself or to win some 
 other for a friend, let him cut out these opinions, let 
 him hate them and drive them from his soul. 
 
 8. And thus he will not revile himself, nor be at 
 strife with himself, nor be variable, nor torment 
 himself. And to another, if it be one like himself, he 
 will be altogether as to himself, but with one unlike 
 he will be forbearing and gentle and mild, ready to 
 forgive him as an ignorant man, as one who is astray 
 about the greatest things ; but harsh to no man, being 
 well-assured of that dogma of Plato, that no soul is 
 willingly deprived of the truth. 
 
 9. But otherwise ye may do all things whatsoever, 
 even as friends are wont to do, and drink together. 
 
TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 123 
 
 and dwell together, and voyage together, and be born 
 from the same parents, for so are snakes ; but friends, 
 they are not, nor are ye, so long as ye hold these 
 accursed doctrines of wild beasts. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 1. Let not another’s vice be thy evil. For thou wast 
 not born to be abject with others, or unfortunate with 
 others, but to prosper with them. But if anyone is 
 unfortunate, remember that it is of his own doing. 
 For God hath made all men to be happy, and of good 
 estate. For this end hath he granted means and 
 occasions, giving some things to each man as his own 
 concern, and some things as alien ; and the things 
 that are hindered and subject to compulsion and loss 
 are not his own concern, and those that are unhindered 
 are ; and the substance of Good and of Evil, as it 
 were worthy of him that careth for us and doth pro- 
 tect us as a father, he hath placed among our own 
 concerns. 
 
 2. ‘‘But I have parted from such a one, and 
 
 he is grieved.” 
 
 For why did he deem things alien to be his 
 own concern ? Why, when he rejoiced to see thee 
 did he not reason that thou wert mortal, and apt 
 to travel to another land ? Therefore doth he pay 
 
124 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 the penalty of his own folly. But thou, for what 
 cause or reason dost thou bewail thyself ? Hast thou 
 also given no thought to these things ; but like silly 
 women consorted with all that pleased thee as though 
 thou shouldst consort with them forever, places and 
 persons and pastimes ? and now thou sittest weeping, 
 because thou canst see the same persons and frequent 
 the same places no longer. This, truly, is what thou 
 art fit for, to be more wretched than crows and ravens 
 that can fly whithersoever they please, and change 
 their nests, and pass across the seas, nor ever lament 
 nor yearn for what they have left. 
 
 “Yea, but they are thus because they are 
 
 creatures without reason.” 
 
 To us, then, was Reason given by the Gods for our 
 misfortune and misery ? that we should be wretched 
 and sorrowful forever ? Let all men be immortal, for- 
 sooth, and no man migrate to another land, nor let us 
 ourselves ever migrate, but remain rooted to one spot 
 like plants ; and if one of our companions go, let us 
 sit down and weep, and if he return, dance and clap 
 hands like children ! 
 
 3. Shall we not now at last wean ourselves, and 
 remember what we heard from the philosophers ? if, 
 indeed, we did not listen to them as a wizard's incan- 
 tation. For they said that the universe is one Polity, 
 and one is the substance out of which it is made, and 
 there must, of necessity, be a certain cycle, and some 
 things must give place to others, some dissolving away, 
 and others coming into being, some abiding in one 
 place, and others being in motion. But all things are 
 
TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 125 
 
 full of love, first of the Gods, then of men, that are by 
 nature made to have affection towards each other ; 
 and it must needs be that some dwell with each other, 
 and some are separated, rejoicing in those who are 
 with them, and not distressed for those who go away. 
 And man, they said, is magnanimous by nature, and 
 contemneth all things beyond the Will; and hath also 
 this quality, not to be rooted to one spot, nor grown 
 into the earth, but able to go from place to place, 
 sometimes urged by divers needs, sometimes for the 
 sake of what he shall see. 
 
 4. And such was the case with Ulysses : — 
 
 “ The cities of many peoples and minds of men he knew.” 
 
 —Od, i. 3. 
 
 And yet earlier with Hercules, who went about the 
 whole earth — 
 
 “ All disorders of men and orderly rule to see,” 
 
 — Od, xvii. 487. 
 
 casting out and purging the one, and bringing in the 
 other in its place. And how many friends, think 
 you, had he in Thebes ? how many in Argos ? how- 
 many in Athens ? and how many did he gain in his 
 journey ings ? And he took a wife, too, when it 
 seemed to him due time, and begat children, and left 
 them behind him, not with lamentations or regrets, 
 nor leaving them as orphans ; for he knew that no 
 man is an orphan, but that there is an Eternal Father 
 who careth continually for all. For not of report 
 alone had he heard that Zeus is the Father of men^ 
 
126 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 whom also he thought to be his own father, and 
 called Him so, and all that he did, he did looking unto 
 Him. And thus it was that he was able to live 
 happily in every place. 
 
 5. For never can happiness and the longing for 
 what is not exist together. For Happiness must have 
 all its will. It is like unto one that hath eaten and is 
 filled; thirst will not sort with it, nor hunger. 
 Ulysses longed for his wife, and lamented as he sat on 
 the rock} And do you, then, follow Homer and his 
 stories in everything ? Or if he did in truth lament, 
 what else was he than an unfortunate man ? And 
 what good man is unfortunate ? Verily, the Whole is 
 ill-governed if Zeus taketh no care of his own citizens, 
 that they like himself may be happy ; but these things 
 it is not lawful nor pious even to think of. But Ulysses, 
 if indeed he lamented and complained, was not a good 
 man. For what good man is there that knoweth not 
 who he is ? and who knoweth this who forgets that 
 things which come into existence also perish, and that 
 no two human beings dwell together for ever To aim, 
 then, at things which are impossible is a contemptible 
 and foolish thing ; it is the part of a stranger and alien 
 in God s world who fights against God in the one way 
 he can — by his own opinions. 
 
 6. But my mother laments if she sees me not And 
 wherefore hath she never learned these teachings ? 
 Yet, I say not that it is no concern of ours to prevent 
 her grieving ; but that we should not absolutely, and 
 without exception, desire what is not our own. And 
 the grief of another is another’s, and my grief is mine 
 
TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 127 
 
 own. I will, therefore, absolutely end mine own 
 grief, for this I can ; and that of another according to 
 my means, but this I will not attempt absolutely. 
 For otherwise I shall be fighting with God. I shall 
 be opposing and resisting him in the government of 
 the Whole ; and of this strife against God, this 
 obstinacy, not only my children’s children, but I 
 myself, too, shall pay the penalty by day and night ; 
 for I shall leap from my bed at visions of the night, 
 confounded, trembling at every news, having my peace 
 at the mercy of letters of other persons. A messenger 
 hath come from Rome ; God grant it he no evil. But 
 what evil can come upon thee there, where thou art 
 ® not 1 There is a message from Greece ; God grant it 
 he no evil. And thus to thee every place may be a 
 source of misfortune. Is it not enough for thee to be 
 unfortunate where* thou art, and not also across the 
 sea, and by writings ? Is this the security of thine 
 affairs ? But what if my friends which are abroad die 
 there ? What else than that creatures destined to die 
 have died ? And how dost thou desire to live to old 
 age, and never to see the death of any whom thou 
 lovest ? Knowest thou not that in a great length of 
 time many and various things must chance; that a 
 fever shall overthrow one, and a robber another, and 
 a tyrant another ? Such is our environment, such our 
 companions ; cold and heat, and improper ways of 
 living, and journey ings, and voy agings, and winds, and 
 various circumstances will destroy one man, and exile 
 another, and cast another into an embassy, and 
 another into a campaign. Sit down, then, terrified 
 
128 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 at all these things ; grieve and fail, and be unfortu- 
 nate ; depend on others, and that not on one or two, 
 but myriads upon myriads. 
 
 7. Is this what you heard, is this what you learned 
 from the philosophers? Know you not that our 
 business here is a warfare ? and one must watch, and 
 one go out as a spy, and one must fight ? All cannot 
 be the same thing, nor would it be better if they 
 were. But you neglect to do the bidding of the 
 commander, and complain when he hath laid some- 
 what rougher than common upon you ; and you mark 
 not what, so far as in you lies, you are making the 
 army to become, so that if all copy you, none will dig 
 a trench, none will cast up a rampart, none will • 
 watch, none will run any risk, but each will appear 
 worthless for warfare. Again, in a ship, if you go for 
 
 a sailor, take up one place, and never budge from it ; 
 and if you are wanted to go aloft, refuse ; or to run 
 upon the prow, refuse ; and what captain will have 
 patience with you ? Will he not cast you out like 
 some useless thing, nothing else than a hindrance and 
 bad example to the other sailors ? 
 
 8. And thus here also : the life of every man is a 
 sort of warfare, and a long one, and full of divers 
 chances. And it behoveth a man to play a soldier’s 
 part, and do all at the nod of his commander ; yea, 
 and if it be possible, to divine what he intendeth. 
 For that commander is not such a one as this, neither 
 in power nor in exaltation of character. You are set 
 in a great office, and in no mean place, but are a 
 Senator for ever. Know you not that such a one can 
 
TIME AND CHANGE. 
 
 129 
 
 attend but little to his household, but he must be 
 oftentimes abroad, ruling or being ruled, or fulfilling 
 some office, or serving in the field, or judging ? And 
 will you, then, desire to be fixed and rooted like a 
 plant in the same place ? For it is pleasant Who 
 denies it ? But so is a dainty pleasant, and a fair 
 woman is pleasant. How otherwise are those wont 
 to speak who make pleasure their end ? See you not 
 what kind of men they are whose words you utter ? 
 They are the words of Epicureans and profligates. 
 And doing the works of these men, and holding their 
 doctrines, wilt thou speak to us with the speech of 
 Zeno and Socrates ? 
 
 9. Will you not fling away from you as far as you 
 can these alien sentiments wherewith you adorn 
 yourself, which beseem you not at all? What 
 other desire have such men than to sleep their fill 
 unhindered, and when they have risen, to yawn for 
 languor, and wash their face, and write and read 
 whatever pleaseth them ; then have some trivial talk, 
 and be praised by their friends, whatever they say ; 
 then go forth to walk about, and having done this a 
 little, go to the baths; then eat; then retire to rest — 
 such a rest as is the wont of such men, and why need 
 we say what, for it is easily guessed ? Come, tell me, 
 then, thine own way of life, such as thou desirest, O 
 thou votary of the truth, and of Socrates and 
 Diogenes ! What wilt thou do in Athens ? these very 
 things, or others ? Why then, dost declare thyself a 
 Stoic ? Are not they sorely punished which falsely 
 pretend to be Roman citizens; and should those go 
 
 545 
 
130 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 free who falsely pretend to so great and reverend a 
 calling and name? or let this indeed be impossible; 
 but this is the law, divine and mighty, and not to be 
 escaped, that layeth the greatest punishments on the 
 greatest sinners. For what saith this law? He who 
 pretendeth to things that are not his own, let him be 
 a cheat and braggart; he that is disobedient to the 
 divine government, let him be an abject, a slave, let 
 him grieve and envy and pity ^ — in a word, let him be 
 misfortunate, and mourn. 
 
 10. “And now will you have me attend upon 
 
 such a one, and hang about his doors ? ” 
 
 If Reason demand it, for the sake of country, of 
 kinsmen, of mankind, wherefore shouldst thou not 
 go ? Thou art not ashamed to go to the doors of a 
 cobbler when thou art in want of shoes, nor to those 
 of a gardener for lettuces; and why to those of a 
 rich man when thou art in need of some like thing ? 
 
 “Yea, but I have no awe of the cobbler.’’ 
 
 Then have none of the ricL 
 
 “Nor will I flatter the gardener.” 
 
 And do not flatter the rich. 
 
 “ How, then, shall I gain what I want ? ” 
 
 Did I say to thee, (?o, for the sake of gaining it ; 
 or did I not only say, (?o, that thon mayest do what it 
 beseems thee to do. 
 
 “And why, then, should I yet go 
 
 That thou mayest have gone ; that thou mayest 
 have played the part of a citizen, of a brother, of a 
 friend. And, for the rest, remember that the shoe- 
 maker, the vegetable-seller, to whom thou didst go, 
 
TIME AND CHANGE, 
 
 hath nothing great or exalted to give, even though he 
 sell it dear. Thy aim was lettuces ; they are worth an 
 obol, they are not worth a talent. And so it is here. 
 Is the matter worth going to the rich man’s door for ? 
 So be it; I will go. Is it worth speaking to him 
 about ? So be it ; I will {speak. But must I also kiss 
 his hand, and fawn upon him with praise ? Out upon 
 it ! that is a talent’s worth. It is no profit to me, nor 
 to the State, nor to my friends, that they should lose 
 a good citizen and friend. 
 
 11. ''How, then, shall I become of an affec- 
 
 tionate disposition 1 ” 
 
 In having a generous and happy one. For Reason 
 doth never decree that a man must be abject, or 
 lament, or depend on another, or blame God or 
 man. And thus be thou affectionate, as one who 
 will keep this faith. But if through this affection, 
 or what happens to be so called by thee, thou art like 
 to prove a miserable slave, then it shall not profit 
 thee to be affectionate. And what hinders us to love 
 as though we loved a mortal, or one who may depart 
 to other lands ? Did Socrates not love his children 
 Yea, but as a free man ; as one who remembered that 
 he must first love the Gods. And, therefore, he never 
 did transgress anything that it becomes a good man 
 to observe, neither in his defence, nor in fixing his 
 punishment, nor beforetime when he was of the 
 Council, nor when he was serving in the field. But 
 we are well supplied with every excuse for baseness ; 
 some through children, some through mothers, some 
 through brothers. But it behoveth no man to be 
 
132 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 unhappy through any person, but happy through all, 
 and most of all through God, which hath framed us 
 to that end. 
 
 12. And, for the rest, in all things which are 
 delightful to thee, set before thyself the appearances 
 that oppose them. What harm is it, while kissing thy 
 child to whisper. To-morrow thou shall die; and 
 likewise with thy friend. To-morrow thou shall departy 
 either thou or 7, and we shall see each other no more ? 
 
 ‘‘ But these are words of ill-omen.’’ 
 
 And so are some incantations, but in that they are 
 useful I regard not this ; only let them be of use. 
 But dost thou call anything of ill-omen, save only that 
 which betokeneth some evil ? Cowardice is a word of 
 ill-omen, and baseness and grief and mourning and 
 shamelessness, these words are of ill-omen. And not 
 even them must we dread to speak, if so we may 
 defend ourselves against the things. But wilt thou 
 say that any word is of ill-omen that betokeneth some 
 natural thing ? Say that it is of ill-omen to speak of 
 the reaping of ears of corn, for it betokeneth the 
 destruction of the ears— but not of the universe. Say 
 that the falling of the leaves is of ill-omen, and the 
 dried fig coming in the place of the green, and raisins 
 in the place of grapes. For all these things are 
 changes from the former estate to another ; no 
 destruction, but a certain appointed order and disposi- 
 tion. Here is parting for foreign lands, and a little 
 change. Here is death — a greater change, not from 
 that wdiich now is to that which is not, but to that 
 which is not now. 
 
ON SOLITUDE. 
 
 133 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON SOLITUDE. 
 
 1. Solitude is the state of one who is helpless. 
 For he who is alone is not therefore solitary ; even as 
 he who is in a great company is not therefore not 
 solitary. When, therefore, we have lost a brother or 
 a son or a friend on whom we were wont to rest, we 
 say that we are left solitary, and oftentimes we say it 
 in Rome, with such a crowd meeting us and so many 
 dwelling about us, and, it may be, having a multitude 
 of slaves. For the solitary man, in his conception, 
 meaneth to be thought helpless, and laid open to those 
 who wish him harm. Therefore when we are on a 
 journey we then, above all, say that we are solitary 
 when we are fallen among thieves ; for that which 
 taketh away solitude is not the sight of a man, but 
 of a faithful and pious and serviceable man. For if 
 bo be solitary it sufficeth to be alone, then say that 
 Zeus is solitary in the conflagration,^ and bewails 
 himself. Woe is me ! I have neither Hera nor Athene 
 nor Apollo, nor, in short, either brother or son or 
 descendant or kinsman. And so some say he doth 
 when alone in the conflagration. For they compre- 
 hend not the life of a man who is alone, setting out 
 from a certain natural principle, that we are by nature 
 social, and inclined to love each other, and pleased to 
 be in the company of other men. But none the less 
 is it needful that one find the means to this also, to 
 
134 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 be able to suflSce to himself, and to be his own 
 companion. For as Zeus is his own companion, and 
 is content with himself, and considereth his own 
 government, what it is, and is occupied in designs 
 worthy of himself ; thus should we be able to 
 converse with ourselves, and feel no need of others, 
 nor want means to pass the time ; but to observe the 
 divine government, and the relation of ourselves with 
 other things ; to consider how we stood formerly 
 towards the events that befall us, and how we stand 
 now ; what things they are that still aflSiict us ; how 
 these, too, may be healed, how removed ; and if aught 
 should need perfecting, to perfect it according to the 
 reason of the case. 
 
 2. Ye see now, how that Caesar seemeth to have 
 given us a great peace ; how there are no longer wars 
 nor battles nor bands of robbers nor of pirates, but a 
 man may travel at every season, and sail from east to 
 west. But can he give us peace from fever ? or from 
 shipwreck ? or from fire ? or earthquake ? or light- 
 ning ? aye, or from love ? He cannot. Or from 
 grief ? He cannot. Or from envy ? He cannot. 
 Briefiy, then, he cannot secure us from any of such 
 things. But the word of the philosophers doth 
 promise us peace even from these things. And what 
 saith it ? If will hearken unto m^, 0 men, whereso- 
 ever ye he, whatsoever ye do, ye shall not grieve, ye shall 
 not he wroth, ye shall not he compelled or hindered, hut 
 ye shall live untroubled and free from every ill. Who- 
 soever hath this peace, which Caesar never proclaimed 
 (for how could he proclaim it ?), but which God 
 
ON SOLITUDE. 
 
 I3S 
 
 proclaimed through his word, shall he not suffice to 
 himself when he may be alone ? for he beholdeth and 
 considereth, Now oan no evil happen to me ; for me 
 there is no robber y no earthquake; all things are full of 
 peace, full of calm; for me no way, no city, no assembly, 
 no neighbour, no associate hath any hurt He is sup- 
 plied by one, whose part that is, with food, by another 
 with raiment, by another with senses, by another with 
 natural conceptions. And when it may be that the 
 necessary things are no longer supplied, that is the 
 signal for retreat : the door is opened, and God saith 
 to thee. Depart 
 
 « Whither ? 
 
 To nothing dreadful, but to the place from whence 
 thou earnest — to things friendly and akin to thee, to 
 the elements of Being. Whatever in thee was fire 
 shall go to fire ; of earth, to earth ; of air, to air ; of 
 water, to water no Hades, nor Acheron, nor 
 Coeytus, nor Phlegethon, but all things are full of 
 Gods and Powers.^ Whoso hath these things to think 
 on, and seeth the sun and the moon and the stars, and 
 rejoiceth in the earth and the sea, he is no more 
 solitary than he is helpless. 
 
 '‘What, then, if one come and find me alone 
 
 and slay me ? ’’ 
 
 Fool ! not thee, but thy wretched body. 
 
 3. Thou art a little soul bearing up a corpse. 
 
 4. What solitude, then, is there any longer, what 
 lack 1 Why do we make ourselves worse than 
 children, which, when they are left alone, what do 
 they*! — they take shells and sand and build up 
 
136 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 somewhat, and then throw it down, and again build up 
 something else, and so they never lack pastime. And 
 shall I, if ye sail away from me, sit down and weep 
 for that I am left alone and solitary 1 Shall I have 
 no shells nor sand? But children do these things 
 through their folly, and we through our wisdom are 
 made unhappy. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS AND REVENGEFUL. 
 
 1. To suppose that we shall become contemptible 
 in the eyes of others unless in some way we inflict an 
 injury on those who first shewed hostility to us, is the 
 character of most ignoble and thoughtless men. For 
 thus we say, that a man is to be despised according to 
 his inability to do hurt ; but much rather is he to be 
 despised according to his inability to do good. 
 
 2. The wise and good man neither strives with anj^ 
 himself, nor in the measure of his power will he allow 
 another to strive. And in this, as in all other things, 
 the life of Socrates is set before us as an example ; 
 who did not only himself fly all contention, but also 
 forbade it to others. See in Xenophon’s Symposium 
 how many quarrels he ended ; and, again, how he bore 
 with Thrasymachus, and how with Polus and with 
 Callicles ; and how he endured his wife, and how his 
 son, which opposed him with sophistical arguments. 
 
AGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS. 
 
 137 
 
 For iie remembered very well that no man can 
 command the ruling faculty of another. 
 
 8. How then, is there yet any place for contention 
 in one so minded ? For what event can amaze him ? 
 what appear strange to him ? Doth he not look for 
 even worse and more grievous things at the hands of 
 evil men than do befall him ? Doth he not count 
 everything for gain which is short of the extreme of 
 injury ? Hath such a one reviled thee % Much thanks 
 to him that he did not strike thee. But he did also 
 strike me. Much thanks that he did not wound thee. 
 But he did also wound me. Much thanks that he did 
 not slay thee. For when did he learn, or from whom, 
 that he was a tame animal, and affectionate to others, 
 and that to the wrongdoer the wrongdoing itself is a 
 heavy injury? For since he hath not learned these 
 things, nor believes them, wherefore should he not 
 follow that which appears to be his advantage ? Thy 
 neighbour hath flung stones ? Hast thou, then, sinned 
 in aught ? But he has broken things in the house ? 
 And art thou a household vessel ? Nay — but a 
 Will. 
 
 4. What, then, hath been given thee for this 
 occasion ? To a wolf it were given to bite — to fling 
 more stones. But if thou seek what is becoming for 
 a man, look into thy stores, see what faculties thou 
 hast come here furnished withal. Hast thou the 
 nature of a wild beast ? the temper of revenge ? 
 
 5. When is a horse in wretched case ? When he is 
 bereaved of his natural faculties ; not when he cannot 
 crow, but when he cannot run. When is a dog ? 
 
13^ 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 Not when he cannot fly, but when he cannot track. 
 Is not a man, then, also thus wretched, not when he 
 cannot strangle lions or embrace statues^ — for to this 
 he came endowed with no faculties by Nature — ^but 
 when he hath lost his honesty, his faithfulness ? 
 Surely we should meet together and lament over such 
 a man ; so great are the evils into which he hath 
 fallen. Not, indeed, that we should lament for his 
 birth, or for his death, but in that while yet living 
 he hath suffered the loss of his own true possessions. 
 I speak not of his paternal inheritance, not of his 
 land, or his house, or his inn, or his slaves (for not 
 one of these things is the true possession of a man, 
 but all are alien, servile, subject, given now to some, 
 now to others, by those that can command them) ; but 
 of his human qualities, the stamps of his spirit where- 
 with he came into the world. Even such we seek for 
 also on coins, and if we And them we approve the 
 coins ; if not, we cast them away. What is the stamp 
 of this sestertius ? The stamp of Trajan. Then give 
 it me. The stamp of Nero.^ Fling it away — it will 
 not pass, it is bad. And so here too. What is the 
 stamp of his mind ? He is gentle, social, forbearing, 
 affectionate. Come, then, I receive him, I admit him 
 to citizenship, I receive him as a neighbour, a fellow- 
 traveller. See to it only that he have not Nero’s 
 stamp. Is he wrathful, revengeful, complaining ? 
 Doth he, when it may seem good to him, break the 
 heads of all who stand in his way ? Why, then, did’st 
 thou say he was a man ? Shall everything be judged 
 by the bare form ^ If so, then say that a wax apple 
 
AGAINST THE CONTENTIOUS. 
 
 139 
 
 is a real apple, and that it has the smell and taste o£ 
 an apple. But the outward shape doth not suffice, 
 nor are eyes and nose enough to make a man, but he 
 is a man only i£ he have a man’s mind. Here is one 
 that will not hear reason, that will not submit when 
 he is con£uted — he is an ^ ass. In another, reverence 
 hath died — he is worthless, anything rather than a 
 man. This one seeketh whom he may meet and kick 
 or bite — so that he is not even a sheep or an ass, 
 but some kind o£ savage beast. 
 
 6. But this is the nature o£ every creature, to pur- 
 sue the Good and fly the Evil ; and to hold every man 
 an enemy and a plotter £or our woe, were it even a 
 brother, or son, or £ather, who takes away £rom us the 
 one, or brings us into the other. For nothing is nearer 
 or dearer to us than the Good, It remains, there£ore, 
 i£ outward things be good and evil, that a £ather is no 
 longer the £riend o£ his sons, nor the brother o£ his 
 brother, but every place is £ull o£ enemies and plotters 
 and slanderers. But i£ the only Good is that the Will 
 should be as it ought to be, and the only Evil as it 
 ought not, where is there then any place £or stri£e, £or 
 reviling] For about what things shall we strive? 
 about those that are nothing to us ? and with whom ? 
 with the ignorant, the unhappy, with men who are 
 deceived concerning the greatest things ? 
 
 7. Kemembering these thing, Socrates managed his 
 own household, enduring a most shrewish wi£e and an 
 unduti£ul son. For these doctrines make love in a 
 household, and concord in a State, peace among 
 nations, and gratitude towards God, with boldness in 
 
T40 
 
 EFICTE2US. 
 
 every place, as of one who hath to do with things 
 alien to him, and of no estimation. And we are the 
 men to write and read these things, and to applaud 
 them when they are delivered to us, but to the belief 
 of them we have not even come near. And there- 
 fore that saying concerning the Lacedaemonians, 
 
 “Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes, 
 will fit US too — lions in the school and foxes without 
 
 End of Book III 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 CHAi^TER I. 
 
 OF KELIGION. 
 
 1. Of religion towards the Gods, know that the 
 chief element is to have right opinions concerning 
 them, as existing and governing the whole in fair 
 order and justice ; and then to set thyself to obey 
 them, and to yield to them in each event, and submit 
 to it willingly, as accomplished under the highest 
 counsels. For so shalt thou never blame the Gods, 
 nor accuse them, as being neglectful of thee. 
 
 2. But this may come to pass in no other way than 
 by placing Good and Evil in the things that are in 
 our own power, and withdrawing them from those 
 that are not ; for if thou take any of these things to 
 be good or evil, then when thou shalt miss thy desire, 
 or fall into what thou desirest not, it is altogether 
 necessary that thou blame and hate those who caused 
 thee to do so. 
 
 3. For every living thing was so framed by Nature 
 as to flee and turn from things, and the causes of 
 things, that appear hurtful, and to follow and admire 
 things, and the causes of things, that appear service- 
 able. For it is impossible that one who thinketh 
 
142 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 himself harmed should delight in that seemeth to 
 harm him, even as he cannot delight in the very 
 harm itself. 
 
 4. And thus it comes that a father is reviled by his 
 son when he will not give him of the things that 
 appear to be good. And this it was that set Polyneices 
 and Eteocles at war with each other — the opinion, 
 namely, that royalty is a good. And through this the 
 Gods are railed on by the husbandman and the sailor, 
 by the merchant, and men who lose their wives or 
 children. For where advantage is, there also is 
 religion. Thus he who is careful to pursue and 
 avoid as he ought, is careful, at the same time, of 
 religion. 
 
 5. But it is fitting also that every man should pour 
 libations and oflfer sacrifices and first-fruits after the 
 customs of his fathers, purely, and not languidly nor 
 negligently, nor, indeed, scantily, nor yet beyond his 
 means. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 1. Concerning the Gods, there are some who say 
 that a Divine Being does not exist ; and others, that 
 it exists indeed, but is idle and uncaring, and hath no 
 forethought for anything ; and a third class say that 
 there is such a Being, and he taketh forethought also, 
 
OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 143 
 
 but only in respect of great and heavenly things, but of 
 nothing that is on the earth ; and a fourth class, that 
 he taketh thought of thinofs both in heaven and earth, 
 but only in general, and not of each thing severally. 
 And there is a fifth class, whereof are Odysseus and 
 Socrates, who say, Nor^ can I move without thy 
 knowledge} 
 
 2. Before all things, then, it is necessary to investi- 
 gate each of these opinions, whether it be justly 
 affirmed or no. For if there be no Gods, how can the 
 following of the Gods be an end ? And if there are 
 Gods, but such as take no care for anything, then also 
 how can the following of them be truly an end And 
 how, again, if the Gods both exist and take care for 
 things, yet if there be no communication from them 
 to men, yea, by Zeus, and even to mine own self ? The 
 wise and good man, having investigated all these 
 things, will submit his own mind to Him that 
 governeth the Whole, even as good citizens to the laws 
 of their State. 
 
 3. But a certain man having inquired how one 
 could be persuaded that every one of his actions is 
 observed by God, Doth it not appear to you, said 
 Epictetus, that all things are united in One ? 
 
 ‘‘ It doth so appear.” 
 
 What then ? Think you not that a sympathy exists 
 between heavenly and earthly things ? 
 
 ‘‘I do think it.” 
 
 For how else do plants, as if at the command of 
 God, when he bids them, fiower in due season ? and 
 shoot forth when he bids them shoot, and bear fruit 
 
144 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 when he bids them bear ? and ripen when he bids 
 them ripen? and again they drop their fruit when 
 he bids them drop it, and shed their leaves when he 
 bids them shed them? and how else at his bidding 
 do they fold themselves together, and remain motion- 
 less and at rest ? And how else at the waxing and 
 waning of the moon, and the approach and withdrawal 
 of the sun, do we behold such a change and reversal 
 in earthly things ? But are the plants and our bodies 
 so bound up in the whole, and have sympathy with it, 
 arid are our spirits not much more so ? And our souls 
 being thus bound up and in touch with God, seeing, 
 indeed, that they are portions and fragments of him, 
 shall not every movement of them, inasmuch as it is 
 something inward and akin to God, be perceived by 
 him ? But you are able to meditate upon the divine 
 government, and upon all divine and all human affairs, 
 and to be affected at the same time in the senses and 
 in the intellect by ten thousand things, and at the 
 same time to assent to some and dissent to others, or 
 suspend your judgment ; and you preserve in your 
 mind so many impressions of so many and various 
 things, and being affected by them, you strike upon 
 ideas similar to earlier impressions, and you retain 
 many different arts, and memories of ten thousand 
 things ; and shall not God have the power to over- 
 look all things, and be present with all, and have a 
 certain communication with all ? But is the sun able 
 to illuminate so great a part of the All, and to leave 
 so little without light, — that part, namely, which is 
 filled with the shadow of the earth — and shall He 
 
OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 T45 
 
 who made the sun, and guideth it in its sphere — a 
 small part of Him beside the Whole — shall He not 
 be capable of perceiving all things ? 
 
 4. Bid J, saith the man, cannot take heed of all these 
 things at once. And who said you could do this ? that 
 you had equal powers with God ? But, nevertheless, 
 He hath placed at every man s side a Guardian, the 
 Genius of each man,^ who is charged to watch over 
 him, a Genius that cannot sleep, nor be deceived. To 
 what greater and more watchful guardian could he 
 have committed us ? So, when have shut the doors, 
 and made darkness in the house, remember never to 
 say that ye are alone ; for ye are not alone, but God is 
 there, and your Genius is there ; and what need have 
 these of light to mark what ye are doing ? To this 
 God it were fitting also that ye should swear an oath, 
 as soldiers do to Caesar. But those indeed who 
 receive pa.y swear to prefer the safety of Caesar before 
 all things ; but ye, receiving so many and great things, 
 will ye not swear ? or swearing, will ye not abide by 
 it^ And what shall ye swear? Never to disobey, 
 never to accuse, never to blame aught that He hath 
 given, never unwillingly to do or suffer any necessary 
 thing. Is this oath like unto that other ? The soldiers 
 swear to esteem no other man before Caesar; ye to 
 esteem yourselves above all. 
 
 54 ^ 
 
146 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 1. Marvel not if the other animals have all things 
 that are needful for the body without preparation, 
 not alone food and drink, but sleeping places also, and 
 they have no need of shoes, nor bedding, nor raiment, 
 while all these things must needs be added to us. 
 For these creatures exist not for themselves, but for 
 service ; it were not expedient that they had been 
 made with need of such additions. For, look you, 
 what a task it were for us to take thought, not for 
 ourselves alone, but also for the sheep and the asses, 
 how they should be clad, how shod, how they should 
 eat, how they should drink ! But as soldiers are 
 ready for their commands, shod, and clothed, and 
 accoutred, and it would be a grievous thing if each 
 captain of a thousand must go round and shoe or 
 clothe his thousand; so also hath Nature formed the 
 animals that are made for service, ready equipped, 
 and needing no further care. And thus one little 
 child with a rod will drive the sheep. 
 
 2. But now we, neglecting to be grateful, for that 
 we need not attend to the animals equally with our- 
 selves, do accuse God for our own lack. And yet, 
 by Zeus and all the Gods, there is no one thing in the 
 frame of Nature but would give, at least to a reverent 
 and grateful spirit, enough for the perceiving of the 
 Providence of God, And to speak of no great things 
 
OF PROVIDENCE, 
 
 T47 
 
 now, consider this alone, how milk is produced from 
 grass, and cheese from milk, and wool from skins. Who 
 is he that hath made these things or planned them? No 
 one, sayest thou? 0 monstrous impudence and dulness! 
 
 3. Well, then, let the large works of Nature pass, 
 and let us look only at h^r by-works. Is there aught 
 more useless than the hairs on the chin ? What then ? 
 hath she not made such use even of these, that 
 nothing could be comelier ? hath she not by them 
 distinguished male from female ? Doth not the 
 nature of every man cry aloud even at a distance, I 
 am a man, thus shalt thou approach me, thus speak to 
 me, look for nothing else ; behold the tokens ! And 
 again in women, as Nature hath mingled something 
 of softne'ss in the voice, so she hath taken away the 
 hairs. Nay, will you say ? but every creature should 
 have been left undistinguished, and each of us should 
 proclaim, ‘‘ I am a man ? But how beautiful is not 
 the token, and becoming, and reverend? how much 
 more beautiful than the cock’s comb? how much 
 more becoming than the lion’s mane ? Wherefore it 
 behoveth us to preserve God’s tokens, nor to fling 
 them away, nor to confound, as far as in us lies, the 
 things that distinguish the sexes. 
 
 4. Are these the only works of Providence in us ? — 
 but what may suffice to rightly praise and tell them ? 
 For had we understanding thereof, would any other 
 thing better beseem us, either in company or alone, 
 than to hymn the Divine Being, and laud Him and 
 rehearse His gracious deeds ? Should we not, as we 
 dig or plough or eat, sing this hymn to God, Great is 
 
EPICTETUS. 
 
 T48 
 
 Qod, who hath given us such instruments luhereby we 
 shall till the earth : great is God, who hath given us 
 hands, and swallowing, and the belly ; who maketh us 
 to grow without our knowledge, and to breathe while 
 we sleep. These things it were fitting that every man 
 should sing, and to chant the greatest and divinest 
 hymns for this, that He hath given us the power to 
 observe and consider His works and a Way wherein 
 to walk.i What then? since the most of you have 
 become blind, should there not be one to fill this place, 
 and in the name of all to sing this hymn to God ? 
 For what else can I do, an old man and lame, than 
 sing hymns to God ? If I were a nightingale I would 
 do after the nature of a nightingale; if a swan, after 
 that of a swan. But now I am a reasoning creature, 
 and it behoves me to sing the praise of God : this is 
 my task, and this I do, nor, as long as it is granted 
 me, will I ever abandon this post. And you, too, I 
 summon to join me in the same song. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 GOD IN MAN. 
 
 1. God is beneficial. But the Good is also bene- 
 ficial. It is likely, then, that where the essence of 
 God is, there also should be the essence of the Good. 
 And what is the essence of God ? Flesh ? God forbid. 
 
GOD IN MAN 
 
 149 
 
 A property in land ? God forbid. Fame ? God forbid. 
 Mind, Intelligence, Right Reason? Even so. Here, 
 then, once for all, seek the essence of the Good. For 
 surely you will in no wise seek it in a plant ? 
 Nay, Or in any unreasoning creature ? Nay, If, 
 then, it is sought in a reasoning creature, where- 
 fore continue to seek it anywhere else than in 
 the difference between reasoning and unreasoning 
 creatures ? 
 
 2. The plants have not so much as the use of 
 appearances, therefore we speak not of the Good in 
 their regard. The Good, then, needs the power of 
 using appearances. And this alone ? Nay ; for if so, 
 say then that Good and Happiness and Unhappiness 
 are with the lower animals too. But this you will not 
 say, and you are right ; for though they possessed the 
 use of appearances in the highest degree, yet the 
 observing and considering of this use they do not 
 possess, and naturally so, for they exist to serve 
 others, nor have any supreme object in themselves.^ 
 For the ass was not made for any supreme object in 
 himself ? Nay, but he was made able to bear, because 
 we had need of a back ; and, by Zeus, we had need 
 moreover that he should walk ; wherefore he received 
 also the power to use appearances, else had he not 
 been able to walk. And thereupon the matter 
 stopped. For had he also received the observing and 
 considering of the use of appearances, it is clear 
 that in reason he could no longer have been subject 
 to us, nor have served those needs of ours, but he had 
 been our equal and our like. 
 
EPICTETUS, 
 
 150 
 
 3. For use is one thing, and observation and study is 
 another. God had need of, the other animals to use 
 appearances, but of us to observe and study appear- 
 ances. Wherefore it is enough for them to eat and 
 drink, and rest and breed, and do whatever else each 
 of them performs, but to us, to whom the faculty of 
 observing and studying hath also been given, these 
 things are not enough; but unless we act after a 
 certain manner and ordinance, and conformably to 
 the nature and constitution of man, we shall never 
 attain the end of our being. For where the constitu- 
 tion is different different there also is the task and the 
 end. When, therefore, the constitution is one for use 
 alone, then the use, of whatever kind it be, is enough ; 
 but where there is also observing and studying of the 
 use, then, unless the due employment of this faculty 
 be added, the end shall never be gained. What 
 then ? God hath constituted every other animal, 
 one to be eaten, another to serve for tilling the land, 
 amother to yield cheese, another to some kindred use ; 
 for which things what need is there of the observing 
 and studying of appearances, and the ability to make 
 distinctions in them But man he hath brought in 
 to be a spectator of God and of His works, and not a 
 spectator alone, but an interpreter of them. Where- 
 fore it is shameful for a man to begin and to end 
 where creatures do that are without Keason ; but 
 rather should he begin when they begin, and end 
 where Nature ends in ourselves. But she ends in 
 contemplation, in observing and studying, in a manner 
 of life that is in harmony with Nature. See to it 
 
QOT) IN MAN, 
 
 I'Si 
 
 then that ye die not without having been spectators 
 of these things. 
 
 4. Seek, then, the essence of the Good there, where 
 if it be not, thou wilt not say that the Good is in any 
 other thing. 
 
 5. But what ? are not those creatures also works of 
 God? Surely; yet not supreme objects, yet not 
 parts of the Gods. But thou art a supreme object, 
 thou art a piece of God, thou hast in thee something 
 that is a portion of Him. Why, then, art thou igno- 
 rant of thy high ancestry ? Why knowest thou not 
 whence thou earnest? Wilt thou not remember, in 
 thine eating, who it is that eats, and whom thou dost 
 nourish ? in cohabiting, who it is that cohabits ? in 
 converse, in exercise, in argument, knowest thou not 
 that thou art nourishing a God, exercising a God ? 
 Unhappy man ! thou bearest about with thee a God, 
 and knowest it not ! Thinkest thou I speak of some 
 God of gold and silver, and external to thee ? Nay, but 
 in thyself thou dost bear him, and seest not that thou 
 defilest him with thine impure thoughts and filthy 
 deeds. In the presence even of an image of God thou 
 hadst not dared to do one of those things which thou 
 dost. But in the presence of God himself within 
 thee, who seeth and heareth all things, thou art not 
 ashamed of the things thou dost both desire and do, 0 
 thou unwitting of thine own nature, and subject to 
 the wrath of God ! 
 
 6. Why, then, do we fear in sending forth a young 
 man from the school into some of the business of 
 life, lest he should do wrong in anything, and be 
 
15 ^ 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 luxurious or profligate, and lest a wrapping of rags 
 degrade him, or fine raiment uplift him ? Such a one 
 knoweth not his own God, nor with whom he is 
 setting out. But can we have patience with him, 
 saying, 'Would that I had you with me And hast 
 thou not God with thee there ? or having Him, dost 
 thou seek for any other ? or will He speak other 
 things to thee than even these ? 
 
 7. But wert thou a statue of Pheidias, an Athena 
 or Zeus, then wert thou mindful both of thyself 
 and of the artist; and if thou hadst any conscious- 
 ness, thou wouldst strive to do nothing unworthy of 
 thy maker nor of thyself, nor ever to appear in any 
 unseemly guise. But now that Zeus hath made thee, 
 thou carest therefore nothing what kind of creature 
 thou showest thyself for ? And yet, is the one Artist 
 like the other artist, or the one work like the other 
 work ? And what kind of work is that which hath 
 in itself the faculties that were manifest in the 
 making of it ^ Do not artists work in stone or brass 
 or gold or ivory ? and the Athena of Pheidias, when 
 she hath once stretched out her hand and received 
 upon it the figure of Victory, standeth thus for all 
 time ? But the works of God have motion and breath- 
 ing, and the use of appearances and the judgment of 
 them. Wilt thou dishonour such a Maker, whose 
 work thou art ? Nay, for not only did He make 
 thee, but to thee alone did He trust and commit thyself. 
 Wilt thou not remember this too, or wilt thou dis- 
 honour thy charge ? But if God had committed some 
 orphan child to thee, wouldst thou have neglected it ? 
 
GOD IN MAN 
 
 IS3 
 
 Now he hath given thee to thyself, and saith, I had 
 none more worthy of trust than thee ; keep this man 
 such as he was made by nature — reverent^ faithful, 
 high, unterrified, unshaken of passions, untroubled. 
 And thou wilt not. 
 
 8. But they may say ^WhenGe doth this fellow bring 
 us that eye of scorn and solemn looks ? I have it not 
 yet as I should. For I am yet unbold in those things 
 which I have learned and assented to ; I yet fear my 
 weakness. But let me be bold in them, and then ye 
 shall see such a look, such a guise, as behoveth me to 
 wear. Then shall I show you the statue when it is 
 perfected and polished. What look ye for ? — an eye 
 of scorn ? God forbid ! For doth the Zeus in Olympia 
 look scornfully ? — nay, but his glance is steadfast, as 
 becometh him who will say, 
 
 None trusts in vain my irrevocable word.*' — Jl, i. 526, 
 
 Such will I show myself to you — faithful, reverent, 
 generous, untroubled. Not also, then, deathless, ageless, 
 diseaseless ? Nay, but dying as God, sickening as a 
 God. These I have, these I can ; but other things I 
 neither have nor can. I will show you the thews of 
 a philosopher. And what are these ? A pursuit that 
 never fails, an avoidance that never miscarries, seemly 
 desire, studious resolve, cautious assent.® These shall 
 ye see. 
 
^54 
 
 kPlCTEfUS. 
 
 CHAPTER V, 
 
 OF DIVINATION.^ 
 
 1. When thou goest to inquire o£ an oracle, remem- 
 ber that what the event will be thou knowest not, for 
 this is the thing thou art come to learn from the seer ; 
 but of what nature it is (if haply thou art a philo- 
 sopher), thou knewest already in coming. For if it 
 be any of those things that are not in our own power, 
 it follows of necessity that it can be neither good nor 
 evil. 
 
 2. Bring, therefore, to the seer neither pursuit nor 
 avoidance, nor go before him with trembling, but well 
 knowing that all events are indifferent and nothing 
 to thee. For whatever it may be, it shall lie with thee 
 to use it nobly ; and this no man can prevent. Go, 
 then, with a good courage to the Gods as to counsellors ; 
 and for the rest, when anything hath been counselled 
 thee, remember of whom thou hast taken counsel, 
 and whom thou wilt be slighting if thou art not 
 obedient. 
 
 8. Therefore, as Socrates would have it, go to the 
 oracle for those matters only where thy whole inquiry 
 bendeth solely towards the event, and where there are 
 no means either from reason or any other art for 
 knowing beforehand what is to happen. Thus, when 
 it may be needful to share some peril with thy 
 friend or thy country, inquire of no oracle whether 
 thou shouldst do the thing. For if the seer should 
 
OF DlVINATlOi^. 
 
 I5S 
 
 declare that the sacrifices are inauspicious, this 
 signifies clearly either death, or the loss of some limb, 
 or banishment ; yet doth Eeason decree that even so 
 thou must stand by thy friend, and share thy country’s 
 danger. 
 
 4. Mark, therefore, that greater seer, the Pythian, 
 who cast out of his temple one that, when his friend 
 was being murdered, did not help him ^ 
 
 End of Book 1Y, 
 
ROOK V. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BEHAVIOUR OF A PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 1. Ordain for thyself forthwith a certain form and 
 type of conduct, which thou shalt maintain both alone 
 and, y^hen it may chance, among men. 
 
 2. And for the most part keep silence, or speak 
 only what is necessary, and in few words. But when 
 occasion may call thee to speak, then speak, but 
 sparingly, and not about any subject at hap-hazard, 
 nor about gladiators, nor horse races, nor athletes, nor 
 things to eat and drink, which are talked of every- 
 where ; but, above all, not about men, as blaming or 
 praising or comparing them. 
 
 If, then, thou art able, let thy discourse draw that 
 of the company towards what is seemly and good. 
 But if thou find thyself apart among men of another 
 sort, keep silence. 
 
 3. Laugh not much, nor at many things, nor 
 unrestrainedly. 
 
 4. Refuse altogether, if thou canst, to take an oath ; 
 if thou canst not, then as the circumstances allow.^ 
 
 5. Shun banquets given by strangers and by the 
 
FrEHA VI O UR OF A PHIL O SO FILER. 1 5 7 
 
 vulgar. But if any occasion bring thee to them, give 
 strictest heed, lest thou fall unawares into the ways of 
 the vulgar. For know that if thy companion be 
 corrupt, he who hath conversation with him must 
 needs be corrupted also, even if himself should chance 
 to be pure. 
 
 6. Hath any of you the art of a lute-player when he 
 takes the lute in his hand, so as at once when he hath 
 touched the strings to know which are out of tune, 
 and then to tune the instrument ? — such a gift as 
 Socrates had, who in every company could lead those 
 that were with him to his own topic? Whence 
 should you have it ? but ye must needs be carried 
 about hither and thither by the vulgar. And where- 
 fore, then, are they stronger than ye ? For that they 
 speak their sorry stuff from belief ; but ye, your fine 
 talk from the lips out. Wherefore it is flat and dead ; 
 and sickening it is to hear your exhortations and this 
 wretched virtue of yours, which is prated of in every 
 quarter. And thus the vulgar conquer you. For 
 everywhere belief is mighty, belief is invincible. 
 Until then the right opinions are hardened in you; 
 and until ye shall have gained a certain strength for 
 your safety, I counsel you to mingle cautiously with 
 the vulgar, else every day, like wax in the sun, shalb 
 whatever hath been written in you in the school be 
 melted away. 
 
 7. In things that concern the body accept only so 
 far as the bare need — as in food, drink, clothing, 
 habitation, servants. But all that makes for glory or 
 luxury thou must utterly proscribe. 
 
EPICTETUS, 
 
 158 
 
 8. Concerning intercourse of the sexes, it is right to 
 be pure before marriage, to the best of thy power. 
 But, using it, let a man have to do only with what is 
 lawful. Yet be not grievous to those who use such 
 pleasures, nor censorious ; nor be often putting thyself 
 forward as not using them. 
 
 9. If one shall bear thee word that such a one hath 
 spoken evil of thee, then do not defend thyself against 
 his accusations, but make answer : He little knew my 
 other viceSy or he had not mentioned only these, 
 
 10. There is no necessity to go often to the arena, 
 but if occasion should take thee there, do not appear 
 ardent on any man’s side but thine own ; that is to 
 say, choose that only to happen which does happen, 
 and that the conqueror may be simply he who wins ; 
 for so shalt thou not be thwarted. But from shout- 
 ing and laughing at this or that, or violent gesticula- 
 tion, thou must utterly abstain. And when thou art 
 gone away, converse little on the things that have 
 passed, so far as they make not for thine own 
 correction. For from that it would appear that 
 admiration of the spectacle had overcome thee. 
 
 11. Go not freely nor indiscriminately to recita- 
 
 tions.2 jf thou go, then preserve (yet without 
 
 being grievous to others) thy gravity and calmness. 
 
 12. When thou art about to meet anyone, especially 
 one of those that are thought high in rank, set before 
 thy mind what Socrates or Zeno had done in such a 
 case. And so thou wilt not fail to deal as it behoves 
 thee with the occasion. 
 
 13. Wlien thou goest to any of those that are great 
 
ON HABIT. 
 
 159 
 
 in power, set before thy mind the case that thou wilt 
 not find him at home, that thou wilt be shut out, that 
 the doors may be slammed in thy face, that he will 
 take no notice of thee. And if even with these things 
 it behoves thee to go, then go, and bear all that 
 happens ; and never say to thyself — It was not ivorth 
 this. For that is the part of the foolish, and of those 
 that are offended at outward things. 
 
 14. In company, be it far from thee to dwell much 
 and over-measure on thine own deeds and dangers. 
 For to dwell on thine own dangers is pleasant indeed 
 to thee, but not equally pleasant for others is it to 
 hear of the things that have chanced to thee. 
 
 15. Be it far from thee to move laughter. For that 
 habit is a slippery descent into vulgarity and it is 
 always enough to relax thy neighbours’ respect for 
 thee. 
 
 16. And it is dangerous to approach to vicious 
 conversation. Therefore, when anything of the kind 
 may arise, rebuke, if there is opportunity, him who 
 approacheth thereto. But if not, then at least by 
 silence and blushing and grave looks, let it be plain 
 that his talk is disagreeable to thee, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ON HABIT. 
 
 1. Every skill and faculty is maintained and in- 
 creased by the corresponding acts ; as, the faculty of 
 
i6o 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 walking by walking, of running by running. If you 
 will read aloud well, then do it constantly ; if you 
 will write, then write. But when you have not read 
 aloud for thirty days together, but done something 
 else, you shall see the result. Thus, if you have lain 
 down for ten days, then rise up and endeavour to 
 walk a good distance, and you shall see how your 
 legs are enfeebled. In general, then, if you would 
 make yourself skilled in anything, then do it ; and if 
 you would refrain from anything, then do it not, but 
 use yourself to do rather some other thing instead 
 of it. 
 
 2. And thus it is in spiritual things also. When 
 thou art wrathful, know that not this single evil hath 
 happened to thee, but that thou hast increased the 
 aptness to it, and, as it were, poured oil upon the fire. 
 When thou art overcome in passion, think not that 
 this defeat is all ; but thou hast nourished thine 
 incontinence, and increased it. For it is impossible but 
 that aptitudes and faculties should spring up where 
 they were not before, or spread and grow mightier, by 
 the corresponding acts. And thus, surely, do also, as 
 the philosophers say, the infirmities of the soul grov/ 
 up. For when thou hast once been covetous of 
 money, if Reason, which leadeth to a sense of the 
 vice, be called to aid, then both the desire is set at 
 rest, and our ruling faculty is re-established, as it was 
 in the beginning. But if thou bring no remedy to 
 aid, then shall the soul return no more to the first 
 estate ; but when next excited by the corresponding 
 appearance, shall be kindled to desire even more 
 
ON HABIT. 
 
 i6i 
 
 quickly than before. And when this is continually 
 happening, the soul becomes callous in the end, and 
 through its infirmity the love of money is strengthened. 
 For he that hath had a fever, when the illness hath 
 left him, is not what he was before his fever, unless 
 he have been entirely healed. And somewhat on this 
 wise also it happens in the affections of the soul ; cer- 
 tain traces and scars are left in it, the which if a man 
 do not wholly eradicate, when he hath been again 
 scourged on the same place, it shall make no longer 
 scars, but sores. 
 
 3. Wouldst thou, then, be no longer of a wrathful 
 temper 1 Then do not nourish the aptness to it, give it 
 nothing that will increase it, be tranquil from the 
 outset, and number the days when thou hast not been 
 wrathful. I have not been wrathful now for one, now 
 for two, noiu for three days; but if thou have saved 
 thirty days, then sacrifice to God. For the aptness is at 
 first enfeebled, and then destroyed. To-day I was not 
 vexed, nor to-morroiu, nor for two or three months 
 together ; hut I was heedful when anything happened 
 to move me thus. Know that thou art in good case. 
 To-day, when I saw a fair woman, I did not say to 
 myself, Would that one could possess her; nor, Happy 
 is her husband, for he who saith this saith also, Happy 
 is her paramour; nor do I picture to my mind what 
 should follow. But I stroke my head, and say. Well 
 done, Epictetus ! you have solved a fine sophism, finer 
 by far than the master sophism. But if she were also 
 willing and consenting, and sent to me, and if she also 
 laid Iiold of me, and drew near to me, and I should yet 
 
 547 
 
i 62 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 restrain myself and conquer, this were indeed then a 
 sophism above the Liar, above the Quiescent. Verily, 
 for this a man’s spirit may rightly swell, and not for 
 propounding the master sophism.^ 
 
 4. How, then, may this come to pass ? Eesolve at 
 last to seek thine own commendation, to appear fair 
 in the eyes of God ; desire to become pure with thine 
 own pure self, and with God. Then when thou shalt 
 fall in with any appearance such as we have spoken 
 of, what saith Plato ? Go to the purifying sacrifices, 
 go and pray in the temples of the protecting Gods.^ 
 It shall even suffice if thou seek the company of good 
 and wise men, and try thyself by one of them, 
 whether he be one of the living or of the dead. 
 
 5. By opposing these remedies thou shalt conquer 
 the appearance, nor be led captive by it. But at the 
 outset, be not swept away by the vehemence of it ; but 
 say. Await me a little, thou appearance; let me see 
 ovhat thou art, and with what thou hast to do ; let me 
 approve thee. And then permit it not to lead thee 
 forward, and to picture to thee what should follow, 
 else it shall take possession of thee, and carry thee 
 whithersoever it will. But rather bring in against it 
 some other fair and noble appearance, and therewithal 
 cast out this vile one. And if thou use to exercise 
 thyself in this way, thou shalt see what shoulders and 
 nerves and sinews thou wilt have ! But now we have 
 only wordiness, and nothing more. 
 
 6. This is the true athlete,^ he who exerciseth him- 
 self against such appearances. Hold, unhappy man ! 
 be not swept away. Great is the contest, divine the 
 
ON HABIT, 
 
 163 
 
 task, for kingship, for freedom, for prosperity, for 
 tranquillity. Be mindful of God, call Him to be thy 
 helper and defender, as men at sea call upon the 
 Dioscuri in a storm.^ For what greater tempest 
 is there than that which proceedeth from appear- 
 ances, that mightily overcome and expel the Keason ? 
 Yea, a storm itself, what is it but an appearance ? 
 For, take away only the dread of death, and bring 
 as many thunderings and lightnings as thou wilt, 
 and thou shalt see what fair weather and calm 
 there will be in the ruling faculty. But if having 
 been once defeated, thou shalt say. The next time 
 I %vill conquer; and then the same thing over 
 again, be sure that in the end thou wilt be brought 
 to such a sorry and feeble state that henceforth 
 thou wilt not so much as know that thou art sinning ; 
 but thou wilt begin to make excuses for the thing, 
 and then confirm that saying of Hesiod to bo 
 true : — 
 
 ‘‘ With ills unending strives the putter off.” 
 
 — Works and Days^ 411, 
 
 7. What then? can a man make this resolve, and so 
 stand up faultless ? He cannot ; but this much he 
 can — to be ever straining towards faultlessness. For 
 happy it were if, by never relaxing this industrious 
 heed, we shall rid ourselves of at least a few of our 
 faults. But now, when thou sayest. From to-morrow 
 I shall he heedful, know that this is what thou art 
 saying: — To-day I shcdl he shameless, importunate, 
 abject ; it shall he in others' power to afflict me ; to-day 
 I shall he ivrathfid^ envious, Lo, to how many vices 
 
164 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 dost thou give place ! But if aught be well to-morrow, 
 how much better to-day ? if to-morrow suit, how much 
 better to-day ? Yea, and for this, too, that thou 
 mayest have the power to-morrow, and not again 
 put it off till the third day. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 ON DISPUTATION. 
 
 1. WiiAT things a man must have learned in order 
 to be able to reason well have been accurately defined 
 by our philosophers ; but in the fitting use of them we 
 are wholly unexercised. Give any one of us whom 
 ye please some ignorant man for a disputant, and he 
 shall find no way to deal with him ; but if, when he 
 hath moved him a little, the man answer beside the 
 purpose, he is no longer able to manage him, but 
 either he will revile him, or mock him, and say. He 
 is an ignorant felloio ; nothing can he done %oith him. 
 
 2. But a guide, when he hath found one straying 
 from the way, leads him into the proper road, and 
 does not mock him or revile him, and then go away. 
 And do thou show such a man the truth, and thou 
 shalt see that he will follow it. But so long as thou 
 dost not show it, mock him not, but be sensible rather 
 of thine own incapacity. 
 
 3. But what? this busingss of instruction is not very 
 
ON DISPUTATION 
 
 165 
 
 safe at present, and least of all in Eome ; for he who 
 pursues it will of course feel constrained not to do it 
 in a corner, but he must go to some man of consular 
 rank, it may be, or some rich man, and inquire of him: 
 Sir, can you tell me to whom you have committed the 
 care of your horses ? Surely, Was it, then, to any 
 chance-comer and one irfexperienced about horses ? 
 By no means. Well then, to whom are your gold and 
 silver vessels and raiment entrusted ? Neither are 
 these committed to any chance person. And your body, 
 have you already sought out one to whom to commit 
 the care of it ? Hoiv not ? And that also one who is 
 experienced in training and medicine ? Assuredly, 
 Whether, now, are these the best things you have, or 
 do you possess aught that is better than all of them ? 
 What thing do you mean? That, by Zeus, which 
 useth all these, and approveth each of them and taketh 
 counsel ? Is it the soul, then, that you mean ? You 
 have conceived me rightly ; it is even this. Truly I 
 hold that I possess in this something much better than 
 everything else. Can you then declare to us in what 
 manner you have taken thought for your soul ? for it 
 is not likely that a wise man like yourself, and one of 
 repute in the State, would overlook the best thing you 
 possess, and use no diligence or design about it, but 
 leave it neglected and perishing'! Surely not. But 
 do you provide for it yourself *! and have you learned 
 the way from another, or discovered it yourself *! 
 
 4. And then at last there is danger lest he say first, 
 Good sir, what is this to you ? who are you ? and then, 
 if you persist in troubling him, that he may lift up his 
 
i66 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 hands and smite you. Once I too was an admirer of 
 this method until I fell into these difficulties. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THAT WE SHOULD BE SLOW IN ACCEPTING PLEAS UBE. 
 
 1. When thou hast received the appearance of some 
 pleasure, then, as in other things, guard thyself lest thou 
 be carried away by it, but delay with thyself a little, 
 and let the thing await thee for a while. Then bethink 
 thyself of the two periods of time, one when thou 
 shalt be enjoying the pleasure, the other, when, 
 having enjoyed it, thou shalt afterwards repent of it 
 and reproach thyself. And set on the other side 
 how thou shalt rejoice and commend thyself if thou 
 abstain. 
 
 2. But if it seem reasonable to thee to do the thing, 
 beware lest thou have been conquered by the flattery 
 and the sweetness and the allurement of it. But 
 set on the other side how much better were the 
 consciousness of having won that victory. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THAT WE SHOULD BE OPEN IN OUB DEALINGS. 
 
 In doing aught which thou hast clearly discerned 
 as right to do, seek never to avoid being seen in the 
 
EACH MAN FLA Y HIS O JVN FAFF 167 
 
 doing of it, even though the multitude should be 
 destined to form some wrong opinion concerning it. 
 For if thou dost not right, avoid the deed itself. But 
 if rightly, why fear those who will wrongly rebuke 
 thee ? 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 THAT HALF TEUE MAY BE ALL FALSE. 
 
 As the sayings, It is day^ It is nighty are wholly 
 justifiable if viewed disjunctively,^ but not if viewed 
 together, even so at a feast, to pick out the largest 
 portion for oneself may be justifiable, if we look to 
 the needs of the body alone, but is unjustifiable if 
 viewed as it concerns the preservation of the proper 
 community in the feast. Therefore, in eating with 
 another person, remember not to look only at the 
 value for the body of the things that are set before 
 thee, but to preserve also the reverence due to the 
 giver of the feast. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THAT EACH MAN PLAY HIS OWN PART. 
 
 1 . If thou hast assumed a part beyond thy power to 
 play, then thou hast both come to shame in that, and 
 missed one thou couldst have well performed. 
 
i6S 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 2. And some one having inquired, IIovj, then, shall 
 each of ns 'perceive ^uhat character he befits ? Whence, 
 said Epictetus, doth the bull alone, when the lion ap- 
 proachetb, discover his own capacity, and advance to 
 defend the whole herd ? It is clear that with the 
 capacity is ever joined the perception of the same, and 
 thus, whoever of us may possess a like capacity wdll 
 not be ignorant of it. But a bull is not made in a 
 moment, nor is a man of generous spirit ; but we 
 must have preparation and winter-training,^ and not 
 lightly rush upon things that do not concern us. 
 
 CHAPTER VJII. 
 
 THAT WE SHOULD BE CAREFUL OF THE SOUL AS OF 
 THE BODY. 
 
 In going about, you are careful not to step upon a 
 nail or to twist your foot. Care thus also, lest you 
 injure your ruling faculty. And if we observe this in 
 each thing w^e do, we shall the more safely undertake 
 it. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MEASURE OF GATX. 
 
 The measure of gain for each man is the body, as the 
 foot is for the shoe. Take your stand on this, and you 
 
A DULL NATURE. 
 
 169 
 
 shall preserve the measure. But if you transgress it, 
 you must thenceforth be borne, as it were, down a 
 steep. And so it is with the shoe, for if you will go 
 beyond the measure of the foot, the shoe will be first 
 gilded, then dyed purple, then embroidered. For that 
 which hath once transo^ressed its measure hath no 
 longer any limit. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE VfOIlTH OF WOMEN. 
 
 Feom the age of fourteen years women are flattered 
 and worshipped by men. Seeing thus that there is 
 nothing else for them but to serve the pleasure of 
 men, they begin to beautify themselves, and to place 
 all their hopes in this. It were well, then, that they 
 should perceive themselves to be prized for nothing 
 else than modesty and decorum. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A DULL NATUPvE. 
 
 It betokens a dull nature to be greatly occupied 
 in matters that concern the body, as to be much 
 
EPICTETUS, 
 
 170 
 
 concerned about exercising oneself, or eating, or 
 drinking, or other bodily acts. But these things 
 should be done by the way, and all attention be given 
 to the mind. 
 
 CITAPTEB XIL 
 
 OF ADORNMENT OF THE PERSON. 
 
 1. A CERTAIN young man, a rhetorician, having 
 come to Epictetus with his hair dressed in an 
 unusually elaborate way, and his other attire much 
 adorned, Tell me, said Epictetus, think you not that 
 some dogs are beautiful, and some horses, and so of 
 the other animals ? 
 
 I do think it,” said he. 
 
 And men too— are not some beautiful and some ill- 
 favoured ? 
 
 How otherwise ? ” 
 
 Whether, then, do we call each of these beautiful 
 for the same reasons and in the same kind, or each 
 for something proper to itself ? And you shall see 
 the matter thus : Inasmuch as we observe a dog to be 
 formed by nature for one end, and a horse for another, 
 and, let us say, a nightingale for another, we may in 
 general say, not unreasonably, that each of them is 
 then beautiful when it is excellent according to its 
 own nature ; but since the nature of each is different. 
 
ADORNMENT OF THE PERSON 171 
 
 different also, it seems to me, is the manner of being 
 beautiful in each. Is it not so ? 
 
 He acknowledged that it was. 
 
 Therefore, that which maketh a dog beautiful 
 maketh a horse ilhfavoured ; and that which maketh 
 a horse beautiful, a dog ill-favoured ; if, indeed, their 
 natures are different 
 
 “ So it seems.'^ 
 
 And that w^hich maketh a beautiful Pancratiast,^ 
 the same maketh a wrestler not good, and a runner 
 utterly laughable. And he who is beautiful for the 
 Pentathlon is very bad for wrestling ? 
 
 “ It is so,” he said. 
 
 What is it, then, that makes a man beautiful ? Is 
 it not that which, in its kind, makes also a dog or a 
 horse beautiful 'I 
 
 “ It is that,” he answered. 
 
 What, then, makes a dog beautiful ? The presence 
 of the virtue of a dog. And a horse ? The presence 
 of the virtue of a horse. And what, then, a man ? Is 
 it not also the presence of the virtue of a man ? 
 And, 0 youth, if thou wouldst be beautiful, do thou 
 labour to perfect this, the virtue of a human being. 
 But what is it ? Look whom you praise when you 
 praise any without affection — is it the righteous or 
 the unrighteous ? 
 
 The righteous.” 
 
 Is it the temperate or the profligate ? 
 
 “ The temperate.” 
 
 Is it the continent or the incontinent ? 
 
 The continent.” 
 
172 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 Then making yourself such a one as you praise, 
 you will know that you are making yourself 
 beautiful ; but so long as you neglect these things, 
 though you sought out every device to appear 
 beautiful, you must of necessity be ugly. 
 
 2. For thou art not flesh and hair, but a Will : if thou 
 keep this beautiful, then wilt thou be beautiful. But 
 so far I dare not tell thee that thou art ugly, for I 
 think thou wilt more easily bear to hear anything 
 else thean this. But see what Socrates saith to 
 Alcibiades, the most beautiful and blooming of men : 
 EndeavoiiTy theUy to he beautiful ; and what saith he ? 
 Curl thy loclcSy and pluch out the hairs of thy legs ? 
 God forbid. But set thy Will in order, cast out evil 
 doctrines. 
 
 —“And how then shall we deal with the 
 body ? 
 
 As Nature made it. Another hath cared for this; 
 commit it to Him. 
 
 • — — “ But what ? Shall the body then be un- 
 cleansed V 
 
 God forbid. But that which thou art and wast 
 made by Nature, cleanse this ; let a man be clean as a 
 man, a woman as a woman, a child as a child. 
 
 S. For we ought not even by the aspect of the body 
 to scare away the multitude from philosophy ; but by 
 Ills bodj’, as in all other things, a philosopher should 
 show himself cheerful, and free from troubles. Beholdy 
 friends, how I have nothing and need nothing; 
 behold hoiu I am homeless and landless, and an exile, 
 if so it chance, and hearthless, and yet I live more free 
 
ADORNMENT OF THE PERSON 
 
 173 
 
 from troubles than all the lordly and the rich. But 
 look on my body, too ; ye see that it is not the worse for 
 my hard life. But if one saith this to me, having the 
 countenance and garb of a condemned criminal, what 
 God shall persuade me to approach to philosophy 
 which makes such men as this ? God forbid ! I would 
 not, were it even to become a sage. 
 
 4. I, indeed, by the Gods, had rather a young man 
 in his first movement towards philosophy came to me 
 with his hair curled than dishevelled and foul. For a 
 certain impression of the beautiful is to be seen in 
 him ; and an aim at what is becoming, and to the 
 thing wherein it seemeth to him to lie, there he 
 applies his art. Thenceforth it only needs to show 
 him its true place, and to say, Young man, thou 
 seekest the beautiful, and thou dost %uelL Knoiu, then, 
 that it flourishes there where thy Reason is ; there seek 
 it where are thy likes and dislikes, thy 'pursuits and 
 avoidances, for this is ivhat thou hast in thyself of 
 choice and precious, but the body is by nature mud. 
 Why dost thou spend thy labour upon it in vain ? for 
 that the body is naught. Time shcdl certainly teach thee, 
 though it teach thee nothing else. But if one come to 
 me foul and filthy, and a moustache down to the 
 knees, what have I to say to him 1 with what image 
 or likeness can I draw him on ? For with what that 
 is like unto Beauty hath he ever busied himself, so 
 as I may set him on another course, and say. Not 
 here is Beauty, but there? Will you have me tell 
 him, Beauty consists not in being befouled, but in the 
 Reason ? For doth he even seek Beauty ? hath he any 
 
174 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 impression of it in his mind ? Go, and reason with a 
 hog, that he shall not roll himself in the mud. 
 
 5. Behold a youth worthy of love — behold an old 
 man worthy to love, and to be loved in return ; to 
 whom one may commit his sons, his daughters, to 
 be taught ; to whom young men may come, if it please 
 you — that he may deliver lectures to them on a dung- 
 hill! God forbid. Every extravagance arises from 
 something in human nature, but this is near to being 
 one that is not human. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WHY WE SHOULD BEAR WITH WRONG. 
 
 When some one may do you an injury, or speak 
 ill of you, remember that he either does it or speaks 
 it believing that it is right and meet for him to 
 do so. It is not possible, then, that he can follow 
 the thing that appears to you, but the thing that 
 appears to him. Wherefore, if it appear evil to him, 
 it is he that is injured, being deceived. For also 
 if any one should take a true consequence to be 
 false, it is not the consequence that is injured, but 
 he which is deceived. Setting out, then, from these 
 opinions, you will bear a gentle mind towards any 
 man who may revile you. For, say on each occasion, 
 it appeared to Idm^ 
 
ON CERTAIN FALSE CONCLUSIONS. 175 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THAT EVERYTHING HATH TWO HANDLES. 
 
 Every matter hath two handles — by the one it may 
 be carried ; by the other, not. If thy brother do thee 
 wrong, take not this thing by the handle, He ivrongs 
 me; for that is the handle whereby it may not be 
 carried. But take it rather by the handle. He is my 
 brother^ nourished %Dith me; and thou wilt take it by 
 a handle whereby it may be carried. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 ON CERTAIN FALSE CONCLUSIONS. 
 
 There is no true conclusion in these reasonings ; I 
 am richer than thou, therefore I am better: I am more 
 eloquent than thou, therefore I am better. But the 
 conclusions are rather these : I am richer than thou, 
 therefore my wealth is better: I am more eloquent 
 than thou, therefore my speech is better. But thou art 
 not wealth, and thou art not speech. 
 
176 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 PERCEPTION AND JUDGMENT. 
 
 1. Doth a man bathe himself quickly ? Then, say 
 not, Wrongly y but Quicldy, Doth he drink much 
 wine? Then say not, Wrongly ^ but Much, For 
 whence do you know if it were ill done till you have 
 understood his opinion ? 
 
 2. Thus it shall not befall you to assent to any other 
 things than those whereof you are truly and directly 
 sensible.^ 
 
 3. What is the cause of assenting to anything ? 
 The appearance that it is so. But if it appear to be 
 not so, it is impossible to assent to it. Wherefore ? 
 For that this is the nature of the mind, to receive the 
 true with favour, the false with disfavour, and the 
 uncertain with indifference. The proof of this ? Be 
 sure, if you can, at this moment, that it is night. 
 You cannot. Cease to be sure that it is day. You 
 cannot. Be sure that the stars are odd in number, or 
 that they are even. You cannot. When, therefore, 
 any man shall assent to what is false, know that he 
 had no will to consent to falsehood ; for, as saith 
 Plato, no soul is willingly deprived of the truth, but 
 the false appeared to it to be true. Come, then, what 
 have we in actions corresponding to this true and 
 false ? The seemly and the unseemly, the profitable 
 and the unprofitable, that which concerns me and 
 that wliich doth not concern me, and such like. Can 
 
177 
 
 PERCEPTION AND JUDGMENT 
 
 any man think that a certain thing is for his profit, 
 and not elect to do it ? He cannot. How, then, is it 
 with her who saith — 
 
 ‘‘ And well I know the evils I shall do, 
 
 But wrath is lord of fetll my purposes ? ” — Medea, 1079. 
 
 For, did she hold this very thing, to gratify her wrath 
 and avenge herself on her husband, more profitable 
 than to spare her children ? Even so : but she was 
 deceived. Show her clearly that she was deceived, 
 and she will not do it ; but so long as you show it 
 not, what else hath she to follow than the thing as it 
 appears to her ? Nothing. Wherefore, then, have 
 you indignation with her, that the unhappy wretch 
 has gone astray concerning the greatest things, and 
 has become a viper instead of a human being ? If 
 anything, will you not rather pity, as we pity the 
 blind and the lame, those that are blinded and lamed 
 in the chiefest of their faculties ? 
 
 4. So that all these great and dreadful deeds 
 
 have this same origin in the appearance of the thing F’ 
 
 The same, and no other. The Iliad is nought 
 but appearance, and the use of appearances. The 
 thing that appeared to Paris was the carrying off of 
 the wife of Menelaus ; the thing that appeared to 
 Helen was to accompany him. Had it, then, appeared 
 to Menelaus to be sensible that it was a irain to be 
 
 o 
 
 deprived of such a wife, what would have happened ? 
 Not only had there been no Iliad, but no Odyssey 
 neither. 
 
 543 
 
178 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 — — On such a little thinor do such PTeat ones 
 hang?” 
 
 But what talk is this of great things? Wars and 
 seditions and destructions of many men, and over- 
 throw of cities ? And what is there of great in 
 these ? Nothing. For what is there of greatness in 
 the deaths of many oxen and sheep, and the burning 
 or overthrow of many nests of swallows or storks ? 
 
 '' But are these things like unto those ? ” 
 
 They are most like. The bodies of men are 
 destroyed, and the bodies of oxen and of sheep. The 
 dwellings of men are burned, and the nests of storks. 
 What is there great, what is there awful in this ? Or 
 show me wherein differeth the dwelling of a man, as a 
 dwelling, from the nest of a stork, save that the one 
 buildeth his little houses of planks and tiles and 
 bricks, and the other of sticks and mud ? 
 
 Are a stork and a man, then, alike ? ” 
 
 What say you ? In body they are most like. 
 
 ‘‘ Doth a man, then, differ in no respect from a 
 
 stork ? ” 
 
 God forbid ; but in these matters there is no 
 difference. 
 
 “ Wherein, then, doth he differ ? ” 
 
 Seek, and you shall find that in another thing there 
 is a difference. Look if it be not in the observing 
 and studying of what he doth ; look if it be not in his 
 social instinct, in his faith, his reverence, his stead- 
 fastness, his understanding. Where, then, is the great 
 Good or Evil for man ? There, where the difference 
 is, If this be saved, and abide, as it were, in a 
 
DEEDS, NOT WORDS, 
 
 179 
 
 fortress, and reverence be not depraved, nor faith nor 
 understanding, then is the man also saved. But if 
 one of these things perish, or be taken by storm, then 
 doth the man also perish. And in this it is that great 
 actions are done. It was a mighty downfall, they say, 
 for Paris, when the Greeks came, and when they 
 sacked Troy, and when his brothers perished. Not 
 so : for through another’s act can no man fall — that 
 was the sacking of the storks’ nests. But the down- 
 fall was then when he lost reverence and faith, when 
 he betrayed hospitality and violated decorum. When 
 was the fall of Achilles? When Patroclus died? 
 God forbid ; but when he was wrathful, when he 
 bewept the loss of his girl, when he forgot that he was 
 there not to win mistresses but to make war. These, 
 for men, are downfall and storming and overthrow, 
 when right opinions are demolished or depraved. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THAT THE PHILOSOPHER SHALL EXHIBIT TO THE 
 VULGAR DEEDS, NOT WORDS. 
 
 1. Thou shalt never proclaim thyself a philosopher, 
 nor speak much among the vulgar of the philosophic 
 maxims ; but do the things that follow from the 
 maxims. For example, do not discourse at a feast 
 upon how one ought to eat, but eat as one ought. 
 
EPICTETUS. 
 
 For remember that even so Socrates everywhere 
 banished ostentation, so that men used to come to 
 him desiring that he would recommend them to 
 teachers o£ philosophy, and he brought them away 
 and did so, so well did he bear to be overlooked. 
 
 2. And if among the vulgar discourse should arise 
 concerning some maxim of thy philosophy, do thou, 
 for the most part, keep silence, for there is great risk 
 that thou straightway vomit up what thou hast not 
 digested. And when someone shall say to thee, Tliovb 
 hnowest naughty and it bites thee not, then know that 
 thou hast begun the work. 
 
 3. And as sheep do not bring their food to the 
 shepherds to show how much they have eaten, but 
 digesting inwardly their provender, bear outwardly 
 wool and milk, even so do not thou, for the most 
 part, display the maxims before the vulgar, but rather 
 the works which follow from them when they are 
 digested. 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 ASCESIS. 
 
 Vv^HEN you have adapted the body to a frugal way 
 of living, do not flatter yourself on that, nor if you 
 drink only water, say, on every opportunity, I drink 
 only water. And if you desire at any time to inure 
 yourself to labour and endurance, do it to yourself 
 
TOKENS, 
 
 ibi 
 
 and not unto the world. And do not embrace the 
 statues ; but some time when you are exceedingly 
 thirsty take a mouthful of cold water, and spit it out, 
 and say nothing about it. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TOKENS. 
 
 1. The position and token of the vulgar : he looks 
 never to himself for benefit or hurt, but always to 
 outward things. The position and character of the 
 philosopher : he looks for benefit or hurt only to 
 himself. 
 
 2. The tokens of one that is making advance : he 
 blames none, he praises none, he accuses none, he 
 complains of none ; he speaks never of himself, as 
 being somewhat, or as knowdng aught. When he is 
 thwarted or hindered in aught, he accuseth himself. 
 If one should praise him, he laughs at him in his 
 sleeve ; if one should blame him, he makes no defence. 
 He goes about like the sick and feeble, fearing to 
 move the parts that are settling together before they 
 have taken hold. He hath taken out of himself all 
 pursuit, and hath turned all avoidance to things in 
 our power which are contrary to nature. Toward all 
 things he will keep his inclination slack. If he is 
 thought foolish or unlearned, he regardeth it not. In 
 a word, he watches himself as he would a treacherous 
 enemy. 
 
i 82 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THAT THE LOGICAL AET IS NECESSAEY. 
 
 1. Since Reason is that by which all other things 
 are organised and perfected,^ it is meet that itself 
 should not remain unorganised. But by what shall it 
 be organised ? For it is clear that this must be either 
 by itself or by some other thing. But this must be 
 Reason ; or something else which is greater than 
 Reason, which is impossible. 
 
 2. ‘‘Yea,’^ one may say, ‘‘but it is more pressing to 
 cure our vices, and the like.’' 
 
 You desire, then, to hear something of these things? 
 Hear then ; but if you shall say to me, I know not if 
 you are reasoning truly or falsely? or if I utter 
 something ambiguous, and you shall bid me dis- 
 tinguish, shall I lose patience with you and tell yon, 
 It is more pressing to cure oiir vices than chop 
 logic ? 
 
 3. For this reason I think the logical arts are set 
 at the beginning of our study, even as before the 
 measuring of corn we set the examination of the 
 measure. For unless we shall first establish what is 
 a modius^ and what is a balance, how shall we be able 
 to measure or weigh anything ? 
 
 4. In this case, then, if you have not understood 
 and accurately investigated the criterion of all other 
 things, and that through which they are understood, 
 shall we be able to investigate and understand any- 
 thing else? and how could we? Yea, hut a modius 
 
GRAMMARIAN OR SAGE, 
 
 183 
 
 is a tvooden thing^ and barren. But it measures corn. 
 And logic is also barren. As regards this, indeed, we 
 shall see. But even if one should grant this, it 
 sufficeth that logic is that which distinguishes and 
 investigates other things,' and, as one may say, 
 measures and weighs them. Who saith these things ? 
 is it Chrysippus alone and Zeno and Cleanthes ? but 
 doth not Antisthenes^ say it ? And who wrote that the 
 investigation of terms is the beginning of education? 
 — was it not Socrates ? and of whom doth Xenophon 
 write that he bes^an with the investigation of terms, 
 what each of them signified ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 GRAMMAKIAN OR SAGE. ’ 
 
 When some one may exalt himself in that he is 
 able to understand and expound the works of 
 Chrysippus, say then to thyself : If Chrysippus had 
 not written obscurely, this man would have had 
 nothing whereon to exalt himself. But I, what do I 
 desire ? Is it not to learn to understand Nature and 
 to follow her ? I inquire, then, who can expound 
 Nature to me, and hearing that Chrysippus can, I 
 betake myself to him. But I do not understand his 
 writings, therefore I seek an expounder for them. 
 And so far there is nothing exalted. But when I 
 
184 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 have found the expounder, it remaineth for me to 
 put in practice what he declares to me, and in this 
 alone is there anything exalted. But if I shall admire 
 the bare exposition, what else have I made of myself 
 than a grammarian instead of a philosopher, save, 
 indeed, that the exposition is of Chrysippus and 
 not of Homer When, therefore, one may ask me 
 to lecture on the philosophy of Chrysippus, I shall 
 rather blush when I am not able to show forth works 
 of a like nature and in harmony with the words. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 
 
 1. The clearer be the characters in which a book is 
 writ, the more pleasantly and conveniently shall 
 any man read it. Thus also a man shall listen more 
 conveniently to any discourse if it be conveyed in 
 well-ordered and graceful words. Be it not said, 
 then, that there is no faculty of expression, for this is 
 the thought of a man both impious and cowardly^ 
 — impious, for he holds in disesteem the gracious gifts 
 of God, as if he would take away the serviceable 
 faculty of seeing, or of hearing, or indeed this of 
 speaking. Did God give thee eyes for nothing? 
 And was it for nothing that He mingled in them a 
 spirit of such might and cunning as to reach a long 
 
A CCOMPLISHMENTS. 
 
 i8s 
 
 way ofi' and receive the impression of visible forms — a 
 messenger so swift and faithful ? Was it for nothing 
 that He gave the intervening air such efficacy, and 
 made it elastic, so that being, in a manner, strained,^ 
 our vision should traversd it ? Was it for nothing 
 that He made Light, without which there were no 
 benefit of any other thing ? 
 
 2. Man, be not unthankful for these things, nor yet 
 unmindful of better things. For seeing and hearing, 
 and, by Zeus, for life itself, and the things that work 
 together to maintain it, for dried fruits, for wine, for 
 oil, do thou give thanks to God. But remember that 
 He hath given thee another thing which is better than 
 all these — that, namely, which uses them, which 
 approves them, which taketh account of the worth of 
 each. For what is that which declare th concerning 
 all these faculties how much each of them is worth % 
 Is it the faculty itself 1 Heard you ever the faculty of 
 vision tell aught concerning itself ? or that of hearing ? 
 or wheat, or barley, or a horse, or a dog ? Nay, but 
 as ministers and slaves are they appointed, to serve 
 the faculty which makes use of appearances. And if 
 you would learn how much any of them is worth, of 
 whom will you inquire ? who shall give answer ? 
 How then shall any other faculty be greater than this, 
 which both useth the others as its servants, and the 
 same approveth each of them and declareth concerning 
 them? For which of them knoweth what itself is, 
 and what it is worth ? Which of them knoweth when 
 it behoves to make use of it, and when not? What is 
 that which openeth and closeth the eyes, turning them 
 
i86 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 away from things which they should not behold, and 
 guiding them towards other things ^ Is it the faculty 
 of vision ? Nay, but the faculty of the Will. What 
 is that which closeth and openeth the ears ? — that in 
 obedience to which they become busy and curious, or, 
 again, unmoved by what they hear ? Is it the faculty 
 of hearing ? It is no other than that of the Will. 
 
 3. Being then so great a faculty, and set over all the 
 rest, let it come to us and tell us that the best of 
 existing things is the flesh ! Not even if the flesh 
 itself affirmed that it was the best, would any man 
 have patience with it. Now what is it, Epicurus, 
 which declares this doctrine, that the flesh is best, 
 which wrote concerning the End of Being, and on 
 Laivs of Nature, and on the Canon of Truth ? — which 
 let thy beard grow ? which wrote, when dying, that it 
 was spending its last day and a happy one Is it 
 the flesh or the Will Wilt thou affirm, then, that 
 thou hast aught better than the Will ? Nay, but art 
 thou not mad— so blind, in truth, and deaf as thou 
 art ? 
 
 4. What then ? Shall any man contemn the other 
 faculties ? God forbid ! Doth any man say that there 
 is no use or eminence in the faculty of eloquence. God 
 forbid — that were senseless, impious, thankless towards 
 God. But to each thing its true worth. For there is 
 a certain use in an ass, but not so much as in an ox ; 
 and in a dog, but not so much as in a slave ; and in a 
 slave, but not so much as in a citizen ; and in citizens, 
 but not so much as in governors. Yet not because 
 other things are better is the use which anything 
 
A CCOMPLISHMENTS, 
 
 187 
 
 affords to be contemned. There is a certain worth in 
 the faculty of eloquence, but not so much as in the 
 Will. When, then, I speak thus, let no man deem 
 that I would have you neglect the power of eloquence, 
 for I would not have you' neglect your eyes, or ears, 
 or hands, or feet, or raiment, or shoes. But if one ask 
 me which is, theu, the best of existing things, what 
 shall I say ? The faculty of eloquence I cannot say, 
 but that of the Will, when it is made right. For this 
 is that which useth the other, and all the other facul- 
 ties, both small and great. When this is set right, a 
 man that was not good becomes good ; when it is not 
 right, the man becomes evil. This is that whereby we 
 fail or prosper — whereby we blame others, or approve 
 them ; the neglect of which is the misery, and the 
 care of it the happiness, of mankind. 
 
 5. But to take away the faculty of eloquence, and 
 to say that there is in truth no such faculty, is not 
 only the part of a thankless man toward Him who 
 hath given it, but also of a cowardly. For such a one 
 seemeth to me to fear lest if there be any faculty of 
 this kind we shall not be able to despise it. Such are 
 they also which say that there is no difference 
 between beauty and ugliness. Then were a man to 
 be affected in like manner on seeing Thersites and 
 Achilles, or on seeing Helen and any common woman 
 Truly, a thought of fools and boors, and of men who 
 know not the nature of each thing, but fear lest, if 
 one perceive the difference, he shall be straightway 
 swept away and overpowered by it. But the great 
 thing is this — to leave to each the faculty that it 
 
EPICTETUS, 
 
 1 88 
 
 hath, and so leaving it to scan the worth of the 
 faculty, and to learn what is the greatest of existing 
 things ; and everywhere to pursue this, and be zealous 
 about this, making all other things accessory to this, 
 albeit, according to our powers, not neglecting even 
 these. For of the eyes also must we take care, yet 
 not as of the best thing ; yet of these, too, by the very 
 exercise of the best thing ; since that shall in no other 
 wise subsist according to Nature save by wise dealing 
 in these matters, and preferring certain things to 
 others. 
 
 6. But what is done in the world ? As if a man 
 journeying to his own country should pass by an ex- 
 cellent inn, and the inn being agreeable to him, should 
 stay, and abide in it. Man, thou hast forgotten thy pur- 
 pose ; thy journeying was not to this, but through this. 
 But this is pleasant And how many other inns are 
 pleasant, and how many meadows ? yet merely for 
 passing through. But thy business is this, to arrive 
 in thy native country, to remove the fears of thy 
 kinsfolk, to do, thyself, the duties of a citizen, to 
 marry, to beget children, to fill the customary offices. 
 For thou art not come into this world to choose out 
 its pleasanter places, but to dwell in those where thou 
 wast born, and whereof thou wast appointed to be 
 a citizen. And so in some wise it is with this matter. 
 Since, by the aid of speech and such like deliverance, 
 we must come to our aim, and purify the Will, and 
 order aright the faculty which makes use of appear- 
 ances ; and it is necessary that this deliverance of the 
 doctrines come to pass by a certain use of speech, and 
 
A CCOMPLISHMENTS. 
 
 189 
 
 with a certain art and trenchancy of expression, 
 there are some which are taken captive by these 
 things themselves, and abide in them — one in the gift 
 of speech, one in syllogisms, one in sophisms, one in 
 some such another of these' inns, and there they linger 
 and moulder away, as though they were fallen among 
 the Sirens. 
 
 7. Man, thy business was to make thyself fit to use 
 the appearances that encounter thee according to 
 Nature, not missing what thou pursuest, nor falling 
 into what thou wouldst avoid, never failing of good 
 fortune, nor overtaken of ill fortune, free, unhindered, 
 uncompelled, agreeing with the governance of Zeus, 
 obedient unto the same, and well-pleased therein ; 
 blaming none, charging none, able of thy whole soul 
 to utter those lines : — 
 
 “ Lead me, 0 Zeus, and thou, Destiny 1” 
 
 Then, having this for thy business, if some little 
 matter of eloquence please thee, or certain specula- 
 tions, wilt thou stay and abide in them, and elect to 
 settle in them, forgetting all that is at home? and 
 wilt thou say, These things are admirable ? Who saith 
 they are not admirable ? but for passing through, like 
 inns. What should hinder one that spoke like 
 Demosthenes to be unfortunate ? or one that could 
 resolve syllogisms like Chrysippus to be miserable, to 
 grieve, to envy; in a word, to be troubled and 
 unhappy ? Nothing. Thou seest now that all these 
 things are but inns, and of no worth ; but our business 
 was another thing. When I say these things to certain 
 
190 
 
 EPICTETUS. 
 
 persons, they think I am rejecting all care about 
 language or speculation. But I do not reject this ; I 
 reject the endless occupation with them, the putting 
 our hopes in them. If a man by this teaching 
 injureth those who hear him, reckon me also among 
 those who do this injury. For I cannot, in order to 
 please you, see that one thing is best and chief of all, 
 and say that another is.^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Abide in the precepts as in laws which it were 
 impious to transgress. And whatsoever apy man 
 may say of thee, regard it not; for neither is this 
 anything of thine own. 
 
 CHx\PTER XXIV. 
 
 HOW LONG ? 
 
 1. Plow long wilt thou delay to hold thyself worthy 
 of the best things, and to transgress in nothing the 
 decrees of Reason ? Thou hast received the maxims 
 by which it behoves thee to live ; and dost thou live 
 by them ? What teacher dost thou still look for to 
 
PARTS OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 191 
 
 whom to hand over the task of thy correction ? 
 Thou art no longer a boy, but already a man full 
 grown. If, then, thou art neglectful and sluggish, 
 and ever making resolve after resolve, and fixing one 
 day after another on which ^fchou wilt begin to attend 
 to thyself, thou wilt forget that thou art making no 
 advance, but wilt go on as one of the vulgar sort, 
 both living and dying. 
 
 2. Now, at last, therefore hold thyself worthy to live 
 as a man of full age and one who is pressing forward, 
 and let everything that appeareth the best be to thee 
 as an inviolable law. And if any toil or pleasure or 
 reputation or the loss of it be laid upon thee, 
 remember that now is the contest, here already are 
 the Olympian games, and there is no deferring them 
 any longer, and that in a single day and in a single 
 trial ground is to be lost or gained. 
 
 3. It was thus that Socrates made himself what he 
 he was, in all things that befell him having regard to 
 no other thing than Reason. But thou, albeit thou 
 be yet no Socrates, yet as one that would be Socrates, 
 so it behoveth thee to live. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PAETS OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 1. The first and most necessary point in philosophy 
 is the use of the precepts, for example, not to lie. 
 The second is the proof of these, as, whence it comes 
 
192 
 
 EPICTETUS, 
 
 tliat it is wrong to lie. The third is that which 
 giveth confirmation and coherence to the others, such 
 as, Whence it comes that this is proof ? for what is 
 proof ? what is consequence ? what is contradiction ? 
 what is truth ? what is falsehood ? 
 
 2. Thus the third point is necessary through the 
 second, and the second through the first. But the 
 most necessary of all, and that when we should rest, 
 is the first. But we do the contrary. For we linger 
 on the third point, and spend all our zeal on that, 
 while of the first we are utterly neglectful, and thus 
 we are liars ; but the explanation of how it is shown 
 to be wrong to lie we have ever ready to hand. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MEMORABILIA. 
 
 Hold in readiness for every need, these — 
 
 “ Lead me, 0 Zeus, and thou Destiny, whithersoever ye have 
 appointed me to go, and may I follow fearlessly. But if in an evil 
 min'd I be unwilling, still must I follow.” 
 
 “ That man is wise among us, and hath understanding of things 
 divine, who hath nobly agreed with Necessity.” 
 
 But the third also — 
 
 ‘‘ 0 Crito, if so it seem good to the Gods so let it be. Anytus and 
 Meletus are able to kill me indeed, but to harm me, never.” ^ 
 
 The End. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 CLEANTHES’ HYMN TO ZEUS. 
 
 1. Professor Maliaffy, in his Greek Life and Thought ^ quotes the full 
 text of this noble Hymn, which, he thinks, would alone redeem the 
 Hellenistic age, as it stands before us, from the charge of mere arti- 
 ficiality and pedantry.” 
 
 2. Irjs iJLLixy)jxoL Xaxovres [jlovvov. This is ZellePs reading, but not 
 Professor Mahaffy’s, who has evhs fxljj,7]jj.a. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Chapter I, 
 
 1. “Enter by the door” {cf, S. John, x. 1). The parallelisms in 
 thought and expression between Epictetus and the New Testament 
 have often been noticed, and the reader will discover many others, 
 to which I have not thought it necessary to draw attention, 
 
 2. “ Conceit : ” oltjo-lsj Einhildung, 
 
 3. “ To be elated : ” iTraipeaOai, One might translate, “ to bo 
 puffed up,” except that that expression is only used in a bad sense, 
 and one may be “ elated ” in anything that is truly of the nature of 
 the good. The Stoics distinguished between xapd, joy, and yjdopT^f 
 pleasure ; not rejecting or despising the former. 
 
 549 
 
194 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 1. Th fiiv el(TLV ecj) rjjjuuj ra dk ovk i(f rjfXLP, A fundamental distinc- 
 tion in the Epictetean system, which he sometimes expresses by the 
 phrases, ra ^/jArepa and Th twv dWojv — things that are our own and 
 things that belong to others ; or ra idea and ra dWdrpLa — things that 
 are our proper concern, and things that are alien to us, 
 
 2. On the Mons Palatinus in Rome there stood a temple to Fever. 
 Upton quotes from Gruter, p. xcvii., an interesting inscription to 
 this divinity : Febri. Divse. Febri. Sanctae. Febri. Magnse. Camilla. 
 Amata. Pro. Filio. Male. Affecto. P. 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 1. There is excellent MS. authority for this reading of the passage, 
 which, however, is not Schweighauser’s. The latter reads: “Be 
 content with them, and pray to the Gods.” 
 
 2. “Steward of the winds.” A quotation from Homer, Od, x. 21. 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 1. “ Through not being dazzled,” etc. *'Ap rds d\as OaujudcTj. 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 1. Note that in this passage “God,” and “the Gods” and “the 
 Divine,” are all synonymous terms. 
 
 2. Or “ of names.” 
 
 3. Some texts add “such as Good or Evil. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 I9S 
 
 Chapter YII. 
 
 1. Apparently a proverb, which may he paralleled in its present 
 application by Luther’s “Pecca fortdter.” 
 
 2. A complex or conjunctive proposition is one which contains 
 several assertions so united as to form a single statement which will 
 be false if any one of its parts is false — c.^., “Brutus was the lover 
 and destroyer both of Ccesar and of his country.” The disjunctive is 
 when alternative propositions are made, as “ Pleasure is either good 
 or bad, or neither good nor bad.” 
 
 3. I have followed Lord Shaftesbury’s explanation of this passage, 
 which the other commentators have given up as corrupt. It seems 
 clear that whether the passage can stand exactly in the form in which 
 we have it, or not, Lord Shaftesbury’s rendering represents what 
 Epictetus originally conveyed. 
 
 4. According to the usual reading, a scornful exclamation — “ Thou 
 exhort them ! ” I have followed the reading recommended by Schw. 
 in his notes, although he does not adopt it in his text. 
 
 Chapter YIIL 
 
 1. The founder of the Cynic school was Antisthenes, who taught in 
 the gymnasium named the Cynosarges, at Athens ; whence the name 
 of his school. Zeller takes this striking chapter to exhibit 
 Epictetus’s “ philosophisches Ideal,” the Cynic being the “wahrer 
 Philosoph,” or perfect Stoic. (Phil. d. Gr. iii. S. 752.) This view 
 seems to me no more true than that the missionary or monk is to 
 be considered the ideal Christian. Epictetus takes pains to make it 
 clear that the Cynic is a Stoic with a special and separate vocation, 
 v/hich all Stoics are by no means called upon to take up. Like 
 Thoreau, that modern Stoic, when he went to live at Walden, the 
 
196 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 Cynic tries tlie extreme of abnegation in order to demonstrate 
 practically that man has resources within himself which make him 
 equal to any fate that circumstances can inflict. 
 
 2. rpLpd)UL 0 Uj a coarse garment especially affected by the Cynics, as 
 also by the early Christian ascetics. 
 
 3. Nor pity.’’ Upton, in a note on Dlss, i., 18. 3. (Schw.) refers 
 to various passages in Epictetus where pity and envy are mentioned 
 together as though they were related emotions, and aptly quotes 
 Virgil [Georg, ii., 499) : — 
 
 “ Aut doluit miserans inopem, aut invidit habenti.” 
 
 It will be clear to any careful reader that when Epictetus asserts that 
 certain emotions or acts are unworthy of a man, he constantly means 
 the ‘‘man” to be understood as his highest spiritual faculty, his 
 deepest sense of reason, his soul. That we are not to pity or grieve 
 means that that side of us which is related to the divine and eternal is 
 not to be affected by emotions produced by calamities in mere outward 
 and material things. St. Augustine corroborates this view in an in- 
 teresting passage bearing on the Stoic doctrine of pity [De Civ. Dei. 
 ix., 5 ; Schw. iv., 132) : — 
 
 “ Misericordiam Cicero non dubitavit appellare virtutem, quam 
 Stoicos inter vitia numerare non pudet, qui tamen, ut docuit liber 
 Epicteti nobilissimi Stoici ex decretis Zenonis et Chrysippi, qui hujus 
 sectse primas partes habuerunt, hujuscemodi passiones in animum 
 Sapientis admittunt, quern vitiis omnibus liberam esse volunt. Unde 
 fit consequens, ut hsec ipsa non putent vitia, quando Sapient! sic 
 accidunt, ut contra virtutem mentis rationemque nihil possunt.” 
 
 The particular utterances of Epictetus here alluded to by St. 
 Augustine must have been contained in some of the lost books of the 
 Dissertations y as nothing like them is to be found explicitly in those 
 which survive, although the latter afford us abundant means for 
 deducing the conclusion which St, Augustine confirms. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 197 
 
 4. This cake seems to form a ridiculous auti-climax. But it 
 appears to have been a vexed question in antiquit}" whether an ascetic 
 philosopher might indulge in this particular luxury {irKaKovs). Upton 
 quotes Lucian and Diogenes Laertius for instances of this question 
 being propounded, and an affirmative answer given (in one instance by 
 file Cynic, Diogenes). The youth in the text is being addressed as a 
 novice who must not use the freedom of an adept. 
 
 5. Upton quotes from Cymbeline : — 
 
 Hath Britain all the sun that shines ? Day, night. 
 
 Art they not, but in Britain ? Prythee, think. 
 
 There’s living out of Britain ! ” 
 
 Bat Epictetus means more than this in his allusion to sun and stars. 
 See Preface, xxiv. This passage would lead us to suppose that 
 Epictetus believed in a personal existence continued for some time 
 after death. In the end, however, even sun and stars shall vanish. 
 See ii. 13, 4. 
 
 6. Being arrested by Philip’s people, and asked if he were a spy, 
 Diogenes replied, “ Certainly I am, 0 Philip ; a spy of thine ill- 
 counsel and folly, who for no necessity canst set thy life and kingdom 
 on the chances of an hour.” 
 
 7. According to Upton’s conjecture, these were gladiators famous for 
 bodily strength ; and also, one would suspect, for some remarkable 
 calamity. 
 
 8. This highly crude view of the Trojan war might have been 
 refuted out of the mouth of Epictetus himself. Evil-doers are not to 
 be allowed their way because they are unable to hurt our souls, 
 but the hurt may be in the cowardice or sloth that will not punish 
 them. 
 
 9. By wearing his cloak half falling off, in negligent fashion. 
 Nothing is finer or more characteristic in Epictetus than his angry 
 scorn of the pscudo-Stoics of his day. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 198 
 
 10 dvaKpLvov rb dai/xoviov. The allusion evidently is to the genius 
 or divine spirit by which Socrates felt himself guided. 
 
 11. Crates was a disciple of Diogenes. His wife was named 
 Hipparchia. Upton quotes Menander (apud Diog. L.), “Thou wilt 
 walk about with me in a cloak as once did his wife with Crates the 
 Cynic.’’ 
 
 12. Danaiis, father of the fifty Danaidse. .Solus is mentioned 
 in Od, X. as having six sons and six daughters. 
 
 13. Tpaire^Tjas irvXaojpods, II. f xxi. 69. 
 
 14. That is, he capped the quotation by quoting the following line 
 (77., ii. 24, 25). Hot a very striking intellectual effort ; but Epictetus 
 evidently considered it a meritorious thing to know Homer well 
 enough to quote him in one’s sleep, and he was right, 
 
 15. From a poem of Cleanthes. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 1. According to the view of James Harris, in a long and valuable 
 note communicated to Upton, the “master-argument” was so called 
 from the supreme importance of the issues with which it dealt. On 
 these issues different leaders of the Stoics took different sides, 
 Diodorus holding both future and past things to be necessary ^ 
 Cleanthes both contingent^ and Chrysippus past things to be necessary 
 and future contingent. Any two of the three propositions mentioned 
 in the text exclude the third. For modern philosophy the dis- 
 tinction between the possible and the certain in the phenomenal world 
 has, of course, no real existence ; the possible being simply that of 
 which we do not know whether it will come to pass or not. 
 
NOTES, 
 
 199 
 
 2. Of course Epictetus here speaks ironically : 
 it is the business of a thinker to do. 
 
 3. Epictetus, I suppose, means to complain that the current phrases 
 of philosophy are dealt out in glib answer to great ethical questions, 
 just as Homer might be quoted for an event in the life of Odysseus, by 
 persons who in neither case think of gaining that vital conviction 
 which only the strenuous exercise of one’s own reason can produce, 
 A little later he represents Hellanicus, the historian, as quoted on the 
 distinction between good and evil, who never treated that subject. If 
 it is to be a mere question of authority ^ one naim is as good as another, 
 since none is any use at all. 
 
 “Indifferent,” be it observed, is morally indifferent— that which 
 has in itself no bearing on our moral state. See Chap. II. 2. 
 
 4. The followers of Aristotle called themselves Peripatetics. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 1. The word in the Greek is 7rept<7r(i(rets, literally circumstances, but 
 the word is evidently used in a bad sense, as equivalent to afflictions. 
 Doom is likewise etymologically a neutral word, but one which has 
 received an evil meaning. 
 
 2. Socrates’s faith in his genius or “ Daemon ” was well known. In 
 this passage from his Apologia (which Epictetus gives from a bad text), 
 it is doubtless the manner only that conveyed the idea of mockery. 
 Neither Socrates nor anyone else ever had better evidence of God’s 
 existence than His voice in our conscience. 
 
 alt this is just what 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 1. Briefly, the three divisions seem to be Action, Character, and 
 Judgment. The last is to be approached through training in logic, 
 in the penetration of^lfallacies, etc., by which means a man is to 
 
200 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 arrive at such an inward and vital conviction of the truth that he 
 can never for a moment be taken off his guard by the delusion of 
 Appearance. 
 
 2. Passions, passionless, ra dTraOrjs . — See Index of Philosophic 
 
 Terms. 
 
 CnArxER y. 
 
 1. Euripides.— -Musonius Rufus, the teacher of Epictetus, is reported 
 to have said, ‘‘ Take the chance of dying nobly when thou canst, lest 
 after a little death indeed come to thee, but a noble death no more.” 
 
 2. This phrase of the “open door” occurs frequently in Epictetus, 
 usually when, as here, he is telling the average nonphilosophic man 
 that it is unmanly to complain of a life which he can at any time 
 relinquish. The philosopher has no need of such exhortation, for he 
 does not complain, and as for death, is content to wait God’s time. 
 But the Stoics taught that the arrival of this time might be indicated 
 by some disaster or affliction which rendered a natural and wholesome 
 life impossible. Self-destruction was in such cases permissible, and 
 is recorded to have been adopted by several leaders of the Stoics, 
 generally when old age had begun to render them a burden to their 
 friends. 
 
 3. iVhy, thou shall exist, etc. — This is the sense given by Zeller’s 
 punctuation. Schweighauser’s text would be rendered, “ Thou shalt 
 not exist, but something else will,” etc. Upton changes the text (on 
 his own authority) by transposing an o^k. “Thou shalt exist, but 
 as something else, whereof the universe has now no need.” 
 
 4. This does not appear to have been the law in Epictetus’s time, for 
 he himself was educated while a slave. But it was a common provision 
 in antique states. 
 
 5. The ceremony in manumitting a slave. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 201 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 1. Cbap. VI. i. is a passage from the lost Fifth Book of the 
 Discourses, preserved for us in a rather obscure Latin translation by 
 Aulus Gellius. Duriug a storm at sea, a certain Stoic on board was 
 observed by him to look pale and anxious, though not indeed showing 
 the signs of panic exhibited by the other passengers. Questioned 
 afterwards by Gellius on this apparent feebleness in his professed 
 faith, the Stoic produced the Fifth Book of Epictetus, and read this 
 passage. 
 
 2, The third Earl of Shaftesbury, an enthusiastic student of Epic- 
 tetus, had this dish of water and ray of light engraved, and placed, 
 with the inscription, Tra^^ra vTrbXrjfLs — All is Opinion — as an emblem at 
 the front of his Characteristics. The passage, though interesting, is 
 obscure. At one time the ‘‘appearances,” cpavTao-iai, are compared to 
 the ray of light; at another, the doctrines (literally “arts,” i.e., arts 
 of life taught by philosophy) and virtues. Probably the explanation 
 is to be found in the view of the Stoics that at birth the human soul 
 is a tabula rasa, or blank sheet ; all our knowledge coming from with- 
 out ; that is, from the “appearances ” which surround us. Moral and 
 philosophic convictions are thus, like all other mental states, the 
 result of external impressions. 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 1. The school of Plato was continued at Athens under the title of the 
 Academy. In its later days it produced little except logical puzzles. 
 
 2. “ Friend, if indeed, escaping from this war, we were destined 
 thereafter to an ageless and deathless life, then neither would I fight in 
 the van nor set thee in the press of glorious battle. But now, since 
 death in a thousand kinds stands everywhere against us, which no 
 man shall fly from nor elude, we go ; either we shall give glory to 
 another, or he to us.” — Sarpedon's speech, lliud xii. 322-8. 
 
202 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 3. General consent. — The well-known philosophic doctrine, that what 
 all men unite in believing must be true, which has so often been made 
 the basis of arguments against Scepticism in various forms. 
 
 ChaptePw VIII. 
 
 1. See chap. IV. i. 
 
 2. He drew water by night for his gardens, and studied philosoph) 
 in the day. — Diog. Laert. [Upton,] 
 
 3. A most characteristic feature of the whole Stoic school was its 
 treatment of ancient mythology and legend. These things were 
 closely and earnestly studied, with a constant view to the deeper 
 meanings that underlay the vesture of fable, an attitude which con- 
 trasts very favourably with Plato’s banishment of the poets from 
 his Republic for teaching false notions about the Gods.’* 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 1. Gyara, an island in the iEgean, used as a penal settlement. 
 
 Chapter X. 
 
 1. The captain the driver — literally, “to him who has 
 knowledge ” (of the given art). 
 
 2. Liberator — KapTn<TT7}s. The person appointed by law to carry out 
 
 the ceremony of the manumission of slaves. 
 
 Chapter XI. 
 
 1. This chapter seems to me to contain a truth expressed so baldly 
 and crudely as to appear a falsehood. The reader’s mind will be fixed 
 upon the truth or falsehood according as he is or is not capable of 
 reading Epictetus with understanding. 
 
 2. This earthen lamp was sold, according to Lucian, at the death of 
 Epictetus for 3000 drachmae (about £120). — Adv, Indoct. 13. 
 
NOTES, 
 
 203 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 
 1, Parodying a verse of Euripides on the stream of Dirce in Boeotia. 
 The Marcian aqueduct brought water to Rome. 
 
 2. I adopt Upton’s conjecture for ^the inexplicable \v ^obs KoCKiq., 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 
 1. An eminent Cynic (also mentioned by Seneca and Tacitus). 
 
 Chapter XXY. 
 
 1, This is the reading of one of the Christian Paraphrases. The 
 other versions add the words irpbs aXKrjkov^ after Ci)v ov dLacpepofieOa, 
 giving the sense “ from things in which we do not differ from each 
 other.” It is no uncommon thing for all the versions of Epictetus to 
 unite in a manifestly corrupt reading, and though in this case the 
 received text is not an impossible one, I have thought myself justified 
 in following the variant of the Paraphrase. 
 
 Chapter XXVII. 
 
 1. There is an allusion to this curious feature of the Olympic contests 
 in the Fourth Idyll of Theocritus. Casaubon {Lect Theocr, ad Idyll. 
 4) quoted by Schweighauser, in his note on this passage {Diss, III. 
 XV. 4), shows from Festus Pompeius that there was a statue in the 
 Capitol of a youth bearing a spade after the manner of the Olympic 
 combatants. 
 
 2. Euphrates, a Stoic philosopher, and contemporary of Epictetus. 
 He was tutor of Pliny, the younger. 
 
 3. The pentathlos contended in five athletic exercises — viz., run- 
 ning, leaping, throwing the quoit, throwing the javelin, wrestling. 
 
204 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 4. Much of this must refer to the period of probation or disciple- 
 ship, for Epictetus is clear that the ordinary Stoic (who had not 
 embraced the special mission of Cynicism) was not required to forsake 
 his family, or his affairs, or his duties as a citizen, nor even justified 
 in doing so. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 1. The husk is, of course, the body. If it is maintained that 
 Kature has made the ease of this our only proper pursuit, of course 
 the altruistic, or social instincts, have to be rejected and denied. 
 
 2. The text is here almost certainly corrupt. It runs ttcDs qZv 
 VTT ovorjTLKoi io’/iePj oh /xt] (pvaLKTj icrri, irpbs ra eKyova (piXoaTopyta. All 
 the MSS. agree in vTrovoTjriKoi, for which Schweighauser desires to read 
 irpovovjLKoij and V>^olf, ert kolvuvlkoL Salmasius declares emphatically 
 for TTws ovp iinpoeTs on kolvoivikoI ecrfiep, and this, with a slight altera- 
 tion suggested to me by an eminent living scholar, is the reading I 
 have adopted. Let us suppose that Epictetus said ttws odv virovoeh 6n 
 Ac.e., and that this was written in the short lines common in Greek 
 MSS. 
 
 HQSOTXTnO 
 
 X0EI20TIK0I 
 
 XOXIKOI 
 
 The second line, beginning with the same letter as the third, might 
 easily be dropped by a transcriber, and the next transcriber would 
 certainly change the resulting vTrovo)VLKot to vttovotjtikoI. The existing 
 reading might give the sense, “ How are we, then, suspicious of those 
 (if any there be) to whom Nature has given no affection for their 
 offspring ? ” 
 
 3. Outward things — such as making provision for one's family, 
 serving the State, etc., — actions which are not directly concerned with 
 our spiritual good. 
 
NOTES, 
 
 205 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 1. Phrygia, the birth-place of Epictetus, was one of the great 
 centres of the wild and fearful cult of Cybele, whose priests gashed 
 and mutilated themselves in the excitement of the orgie. 
 
 2. Philosophy is brought upon the scene, speaking first through the 
 mouth of a Stoic, afterwards through that of an Epicurean, and the 
 practical results of each system are exhibited. 
 
 3. The Athenians, rather than submit to Xerxes, abandoned their 
 city to be plundered, and took to their fleet, the victory at Salamis 
 rewarding their resolve. 
 
 Those who died at Thermopylae were the three hundred Spartans 
 under Leonidas, who held the pass against the Persian host till all 
 were slain. Often as their heroism has been celebrated, perhaps 
 nothing more worthy of their valour has been written than the 
 truly laconic epitaph composed for them by Simonides : — 
 
 “ Stranger, the Spartans bade us die ; 
 
 Go, tell them, thou, that here we lie.’* 
 
 Chapter IY. 
 
 1. The sense of human dignity was strong in Epictetus, and he 
 would have it practically observed in men’s relations with each other. 
 Compare Ch. v. 7. Zeller must have overlooked these Fragments of 
 Epictetus when he asserted (p. 301) that no Stoic philosopher had ever 
 condemned slavery. So far as we know, however, this is the only 
 condemnation of that institution ever uttered by any Pagan thinker. 
 The usual Stoic view was laid down by Chrysippus, who defined the 
 slave very much as Carlyle does, as a “ perpetuus mercenarius ’* — a 
 man “hired for life,” from whom work was to be required, a just 
 return for it being accorded {operam exegendam, justa proehenda). 
 This utterance of Epictetus, as of one who knew slavery from within, 
 and certainly was not inclined to exaggerate its discomforts, is 
 noteworthy enough. 
 
2o6 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Chapter Y. 
 
 1. Administrator, dcopOcori^s ; in Latin, Corrector — a State officer of 
 whom inscriptions, etc., make frequent mention, but of whose 
 functions not much appears to be known beyond what the present 
 chapter of Epictetus reveals. 
 
 2. Cassiope was a port of Epirus, not far from Nicopolis, where 
 Epictetus taught. Schw. conjectures that Maximus was sending his 
 son to study philosophy at Nicopolis under Epictetus. 
 
 3. For a correct view of these matters will reduce every movement 
 of preference and avoidance to health of body and tranquillity of soul ; 
 for this is the perfection of a happy life.*' — Epicurus, Diog. Laert, 
 X. 128. Epictetus’s analysis of the Epicurean theory amounts to this, 
 that the pleasure of the soul is the chief good, but that it is only felt 
 through the body and its conditions. 
 
 4. The overseer of youth. — An officer in certain Greek cities. See 
 Mahaffy’s Greek Life and Thought^ ch. xvii., on the organisation of 
 the efhebi, 
 
 5. Aid in works that are according to Nature. — The Greek is — h 
 To?s Kara (pijacr ^pyoLs TrapaKpaTij. There is some difference of opinion 
 among commentators as to the meaning of wapaKpaTT}. Wolf translates, 
 “hold the chief place” in natural works. Upton, Schw., and Long 
 render it by “keep us constant,” “ sustain us,” in such works. I do 
 not see why we should not take the word in its plainest sense — 
 that pleasure should act together with other forces in leading us to 
 do well. 
 
 Chapter YII. 
 
 1. Zealous for evil things. — Epictetus must mean things which they 
 know to be evil — evil things as evil. It was a Socratic doctrine which 
 we find again alluded to in this chapter, that no evil is ever willingly 
 or wittingly done. 
 
NOTES. 207 
 
 2. A favourite theme of later Greek and of Roman comedy was the 
 rivalship in love of a father and a son. 
 
 3. Admetus, husband of Alcestis, being told by an oracle that his 
 wife must die if no one offered himself in her stead, thought to lay the 
 obligation on his father, as being an^old man with but few more years 
 to live. The first verse quoted is from the Alcestis of Euripides ; the 
 second is not found in any extant version of that play. 
 
 4. Eteocles and Polyneices, sons of (Edipus, quarrelled with each 
 other about the inheritance of their father’s kingdom. Eteocles having 
 gained possession of it, Polyneices brought up the famous seven kings, 
 his allies, against Thebes, and fell in battle there by his brother’s 
 hand, whom he also killed. The verses quoted are from the Phcenissoe 
 of Euripides. 
 
 5. Schweighauser interprets this passage to mean that these men 
 occupy the public places as wild beasts do the mountains, to prey on 
 others. If we might read ws rd dyjpla for wj rd Sptj, we should get a 
 less obscure sense, ‘‘ haunt the wilderness — I should say the public 
 places — like wild beasts.” The passage is clearly corrupt somewhere. 
 
 6. Polyneices bribed Eriphyle with the gift of this necklace to 
 persuade her unwilling husband to march with him against Thebes 
 where he died. 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 1. The allusion is to Odyssey^ v. 82-4. ‘‘ But he was sitting on the 
 beach and weeping, where he was wont ; and tormented his spirit 
 with tears and groanings and woes, and wept as he gazed over the 
 barren sea.’* 
 
 2. Let him pity, — See Bk. I., ch. viii., note 3. 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 1. The conflagration. — See Preface for an account of the Stoic 
 Doctrine of the Weltverhrennung, 
 
2c8 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 2. Long suggests that the words translated *‘air to air” might be 
 equally well rendered “ spirit to spirit” {^(fov irvevfiaTiov els TrvevjLLdTLov), 
 thus finding a place for the soul in this enumeration of the elements 
 of man. But this metaphysical division of man’s nature into a 
 spiritual part and a material part would have been wholly contrary 
 to Stoic teaching, which admitted no existence that was not material. 
 As a matter of fact, if any of the terms in this enumeration is to ho 
 understood as meaning soul or spirit, it will be fire rather than air. 
 
 3. Gods and Powers. — deQv Kal AaifjLdvojv. 
 
 ClIAPTEPt X. 
 
 1. To strangle lions or embrace statues. — Hercules did the former, 
 and ostentatious philosophers sometimes did the latter in winter-time, 
 by way of showing their power of endurance. 
 
 2. The stamp of Nero. — I believe there is no other record than this of 
 any rejection of Nero’s coins, and those which have come down to us 
 are of perfectly good quality. He was declared a public enemy by the 
 Senate, and possibly it was decreed at the same time that his coins 
 should be withdrawn from circulation. Dion, quoted by Wise {apiul 
 Schweighauser), reports that this was done in the case of Caligula, after 
 the death of that tyrant. 
 
 3. Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes. — A proverb about the 
 Spartans, who were defeated in Asia,” notes the Scholiast on Aristoph. 
 Pac., 1188-90. 
 
 BOOK lY. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 1. Nor can I move without thy knowledge. — From Homer, 77, x, 279, 
 280, Odysseus to Athene. 
 
 2. The Genius of each man,--rhv hiefrov 
 
NOTES. 
 
 209 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 1. A way wherein to walk. — Literally, the power of using a way. It 
 seems to me likely that this term, way — 656s, here signifies the Stoic 
 philosophy, just as in the early ^Church it was used to signify 
 Christianity [e.g.^ Acts xxii. 4, and xix. 9 , 23). 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 1 . Nor have any object in themselves. — Readers of Lotze will be 
 reminded of the term Fiirsichseinheit, used by him to denote the self- 
 centred quality of true Being. The Greek here is 06 /c avra Trporjyotj/jiepa, 
 TTpoTjyoiffjLevaf being the word used in Bk. I. viii. 13, and Bk. HI. v. 5, 
 for the leading objects or obligations of man. 
 
 2 Would that I had you with me! — In Long’s translation the 
 pronoun you is explained to mean God. I can see no reason for this 
 interpretation. The words are, I think, supposed to be uttered by a 
 disciple to his master : they are such as Epictetus may have heard 
 from many of his own disciples as they left him to take their part in 
 the world of action. 
 
 3. Cautious assent — caution in allowing oneself to entertain the 
 impressions of appearances. 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 1. The strong and growing yearning for some direct, personal revela- 
 tion of God, some supernatural manifestation of His existence and 
 care lor men, is noted by Zeller as a special trait of Hellenistic times. 
 Such a revelation must have been longed for by many as the only 
 satisfying answer to the destructive logic of the Pyrrhonists, and 
 men’s minds were also of course led that way by the insistence of the 
 Stoic thinkers upon the communion of the individual with God, as 
 the most important of all possible relations. Hence the growth of 
 many wild and orgiastic cults at this epoch — all based on the state of 
 
 550 
 
210 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ecstasy connected with their rites, which was ascribed to supernatural 
 influence. With the Stoics this movement took the comparatively 
 sober shape of attention to the established system of oracular divina- 
 tion. Zeller, however, shows that some Stoics were disposed to 
 rationalise the revelations of the oracles by supposing a certain 
 sympathy between the mind of the seer and the future events which 
 led to the unconscious selection of means of divination which would 
 exhibit the proper signs. — (Z. 339, 340.) Epictetus evidently thought 
 more of God’s revelation in the conscience than any other. 
 
 2. The story is told by Simplicius in his commentary on this 
 chapter. Two friends, journeying together to inquire of the oracle at 
 Delphi, were set upon by robbers ; one of them resisted, and was 
 murdered, the other either fled or made no effort on his companion’s 
 behalf. Arriving at the temple of Apollo, he was greeted with the 
 following deliverance of the oracle ; — 
 
 ‘ ‘ Thou saw’st thy friend all undefended die — 
 
 Foul with that sin, from Phoebus’ temple fly.” 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 1. Simplicius explains that the oath was to be refused, because to call 
 God to witness in any merely personal and earthly interest implies a 
 want of reverence towards Him ; but that if there were a question of 
 pledging one’s faith on behalf of friends, or parents, or country, it was 
 not improper to add the confirmation of an oath. 
 
 2. Upton quotes allusions to these recitations from Juvenal, Martial, 
 and. Pliny. Authors would read their own works and invite crowds of 
 flatterers to attend. Epict. Diss. iii., 23. (Schweighauser), is a scornful 
 diatribe against the pretentious people who held forth on these 
 occasions, and the people who assembled to hear and appland them. 
 He contrasts with fashionable reciters and lecturers his own master, 
 Rufus. “ Rufus was wont to say, I speak to no purpose^ if ye have time 
 
NOTES. 
 
 211 
 
 to praise me. And, verily, he spoke in such a way that every man who 
 sat there thought that some one had accused him to Rufus, he so 
 handled all that was going on, he so set before each man's eyes his 
 faults.” 
 
 3. Into vulgarity — d% IdiWTiaixbvt 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 1. The sophism, or puzzle, called the Liar, ran thus : — k liar says he 
 lies : if it is true, he is no liar ; and if he lies, he is speaking truth. 
 The Quiescent (6 Tjcruxdfwj') was an invention attributed by Cicero to 
 Chrysippus (Acad, ii., 29). When asked of a gradually-increasing 
 number of things to say when they ceased to be few and became many, 
 he was wont to cease replying, or be “quiescent,” shortly before the 
 limit was reached — a device which we have some difficulty in regard- 
 ing as a fair example of Chrysippus's contributions to the science of 
 logic. For the master sophism see Bk. II. chap, i., note 1. 
 
 2. Plato, LawSf ix : — “ When any of such opinions visit thee, go to 
 the purifying sacrifices, go and pray in the temples of the protecting 
 Gods, go to the society of men whom thou hast heard of as good ; and 
 now hear from others, now say for thine own part, that it behoves 
 every man to hold in regard the things that are honourable and 
 righteous. But from the company of evil men, fly without a look 
 behind. And if in doing these things thy disease give ground, well 5 
 but if not, hold death the better choice, and depart from life.” 
 
 3. The true athlete. — Literally, ascetic, dcrKrjTrjs ; i.c., practiser. 
 
 4. The Dioscuri, or Twins, Castor and Pollux, were the patron 
 deities of sailors. 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 1. If viewed disjunctively . — That is, if we say. It is day, or. It is 
 night. This is a difficult chapter, and full of corruptions. The feast 
 alluded to is, doubtless, the feast of life, where the Gods are the hosts. 
 
212 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Chapter YU. 
 
 1. Winter training , — Such as the Roman troops underwent when in 
 winter-quarters. They were accustomed to exercise themselves with 
 arms of double the normal weight, and prepare themselves by march- 
 ing, running, leaping, etc. , for active service. 
 
 Chapter XIL 
 
 1. The Pancratium was a contest in which boxing and wrestling 
 were both allowable; For the Pentathlon, see Bk, II. chap, xvii., 
 note 3. 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 
 1. This means, apparently, that the judgment has no right to do 
 more than endorse the deliverances of the perceptive faculty. If a 
 man commits any error, he does it under the conviction that it is in 
 some way for his profit or satisfaction ; that is, that there is some- 
 thing of the nature of the Good in it. He may be mistaken in this ; 
 but so long as he does not know where Good and Evil really lie, he can 
 do no other than he does. The true course, then, for the philosopher 
 is not to condemn him for his actions, but to show him the 
 fundamental error from which they proceed. The expression, 
 “ assent,” crvyKaTaTideadaLj is that used by Epictetus in II. vi., etc., 
 where he speaks of the mind as being imposed on, or taken captive, by 
 the outward shows of things. 
 
 Chapter XX. 
 
 1. The Greek is \6yos ^arlv 6 diapOpCiv Kal i^epya^bfxevoi 
 
 \oi7rd. dLapdp6(o means, literally, to fashion with joints, hence con- 
 stitute organically, with interdependence of parts. Long translates 
 ‘^analyse.” 
 
NOTES. 
 
 213 
 
 2. Modius . — A measure of about two gallons. 
 
 3. Antisthenes, about 400 B.O., founder of the Cynic school, which 
 was established by him in the gymnasium called the Cynosarges (hence 
 the name). As a Cynic, his authority would, of course, be respected 
 by the hearers of Epictetus. Thi^j investigation of terms, or names, 
 is, indeed, the beginning of philosophy and the guide to truth in any 
 sphere, but perhaps not every one is competent to undertake it. 
 There must be a real and not merely a formal appreciation of the 
 contents of each term. A primrose is one thing to Peter Bell and 
 another to Wordsworth. The term, let us say, Duty, is one thing to 
 a Herbert Spencer and another to a Kant. 
 
 Chaptek XXII. 
 
 1. “My friends, fly all culture,” is an injunction reported of 
 Epicurus. — (Diog, L. x. 6. ) However, neglect of form in literary style 
 was a characteristic of philosophic writers of the Hellenistic period, 
 which was by no means confined to the Epicureans. 
 
 2. This passage is corrupt. I follow the reading adopted by 
 Schweighauser (after Wolf) ; but it may be noted that Schweighauser’s 
 translation follows another reading than that which he adopts in 
 his text, vii. — klvov/x4pov (being moved), instead of t€lpojj,4pov (being 
 strained). The original, in all versions, is yivoixhovy which makes 
 no sense at all. — See Preface^ xxiii. 
 
 3. The writings enumerated are, of course, works of Epicurus. 
 When dying, he wrote in a letter to a friend (Diog. L, x. 22) that he 
 was spending a happy day, and his last. 
 
 4. Stoic dirddeta was anything but insensibility. Chrysippus held 
 that many things in the Kosmos were created for their beauty alone.— 
 Zeller f 171. 
 
214 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 5. There is another short chapter on the arts of ratiocination and 
 expression (I. viii. Schw,), which glances at the subject from a some- 
 what different point of view from that taken in the chapter which I 
 have given. There Epictetus dwells chiefly on the danger that weak 
 spirits should lose themselves in the fascination of these arts : “ For, 
 in general, in every faculty acquired by the uninstructed and feeble 
 there is danger lest they be elated and puffed up through it. For 
 how could one contrive to persuade a young man who excels in such 
 things that he must not be an appendage to them, but make them 
 an appendage to him ? ” 
 
 Chapter XXYI. 
 
 1. The first of these quotations is from the Stoic Cleanthes, the 
 second from a lost play of Euripides ; in the third Epictetus has 
 joined together two sayings of Socrates, one from the Grito and one 
 from the Apologia. Anytus and Meletus were the principal accusers 
 of Socrates in the trial which ended in his sentence to death. 
 
NOTES ON THE PRINCIPAL PHILOSOPHIC 
 TERMS USED BY EPICTETUS. 
 
 [I give under this head only those terms the exact force of which may 
 not be apparent to the reader in a mere translation.] 
 
 Ald'qjuiojy. — Pious, reverent, modest. The substantive is aldds, the 
 German Ehrfurcht ( Wilhelm, Meister, Wanderjahre, Bk. II. 
 ch. ii.), a virtue in high regard with Epictetus, who generally 
 mentions it in connection with that of “ faithfulness,” ttIo-tls, In 
 Wordsworth's poem, “ My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow 
 in the sky,” the “ natural piety ” which he prays may abide with 
 him in his old age seems to be just that moral sensitiveness or 
 aldujs which passes into reverence and worship in the presence of 
 certain things, and into shame and dread in that of others. 
 
 'AirdOeia. — Peace — that is, peace from passions, irddr]. Uddos was any 
 affection of the mind causing joy or grief. As it appears from 
 Bk. II. iii. 1., dirdSeia is not, in Epictetus, the state of absolute 
 freedom from these passions, but that of being able to master 
 them so that they shall not overwhelm the inner man. 
 
 Aiap6p(t)TiK6s, — That which organises, constitutes organically, forms 
 into a system. From a joint. The word “ analyse,” by 
 
 which Long translates diapOpody, seems to me wanting in the 
 formative sense expressed by the original. 
 
2i6 
 
 NOTES, 
 
 A6y/J .&, — An opinion, that which seems (doKeiv) true ; generally in the 
 special sense of a philosophic dogma. 
 
 EvpoeTv , — To prosper ; literally, to flow freely. 6(/)ooia, prosperity. A 
 common Stoic phrase for a happy life. 
 
 "EvaipcLa, — ^Religion, piety. ffipofiaL — feel awe or fear before God 
 and man, especially when about to do something disgracefur’ 
 ( Liddell and Scott ) ; to worship, respect, reverence. 
 
 '^•^eiioviKhv ( t 6 ). — The Ruling Faculty — that in a man which chooses, 
 determines, takes cognizance of good and evil, and sways the 
 inferior faculties (dvvdfJLcis powers) to its will. Lotze notes this 
 hegemonic quality in the human soul as that which distinguishes 
 it from the bundle of sensations into which the Association 
 Philosophy would resolve it. 
 
 BavpAieiv , — To admire, be dazzled with admiration by, to worship, to 
 be taken up with a thing so as to lose the power of cool judgment. 
 A frequent word in Epictetus, the sense of which is precisely 
 rendered in Hor. Sat, 1, 4, 28, “ Hunc capit argenti splendor, 
 stupet Albius sere.” 
 
 — One of the vulgar, an unlettered person ; in Epictetus, one 
 uninstructed in philosophy. Originally the word meant one who 
 remained in private life, not filling any public office, or taking 
 part in State afi’airs. A man might be an IdKarrjSj 6r “ layman,” 
 with respect to any branch of science or art. 
 
 KaX6s Kal dyadSs , — The good and wise man — literally, beautiful and 
 good. A standing phrase to denote the perfection of human 
 character. Kokbs is a word sometimes difficult to render* Curtius 
 connects it etymologically with Sanscrit, Jcalyas ; Gothic, hails, 
 = heal thy. 
 
 OtrjffLS , — “ Conceit ” — defined by Cicero as “ Opinatio ” — intellectual 
 self-sufficiency, the supposing oneself to know something when 
 one does not. “ The first business of a philosopher,” says 
 Epictetus, “ is to cast away otnais, for it is impossible that one 
 can begin to learn the things that he thinks he knows” {Diss, II. 
 xvii. 1). He is not, in short, to be “ wise in his own conceit.” 
 
NOTES, 
 
 217 
 
 Spe^iSj ^KKXtcTL^f opfiij, d<f)opfiifi, — Pursuit, avoidance, desire, aversion. 
 According to Simplicius (Comment. Erich, i.), ^pefts and teXttrts 
 were used by the Stoics to express the counterparts in outward 
 action of the mental affections, bpix^ and afpoppuirif and were regarded 
 as consequent upon the latter. 
 
 t 
 
 wpoalpeaii , — The Will ; but as used in Epictetus, this word implies 
 much more than the mere faculty of volition. Literally, it 
 means a choosing of one thing before another ; in Epictetus, the 
 power of deliberately resolving or purposing, the exercise of the 
 reflective faculty being implied. It is hardly to be distinguished 
 from rb rjyefxoPLKdvt q, v, 
 
 irpo\'fi\j/m , — “ Natural Conceptions.” See Preface, xxviii. , xxix. The 
 ‘‘primary truths” of Lord Herbert of Cherbury, 
 
 ’ZvyKaTaTlOeffSai , — To assent to or acquiesce in anything, to ratify by 
 the judgment the emotions produced by external things or 
 events, such as the sense of dread, or pleasure, or reprobation, 
 which they arouse in us. To be on one’s guard against the 
 hasty yielding of this assent is one of Epictetus’s main injunctions 
 to the aspirant in philosophy. 
 
 TapdaaeaOai. — To be troubled ; d-rapaf/a, tranquillity. ^apdcr<TeLV is 
 primarily to stir up, confuse, throw into disorder. 
 
 ifiavTaaLa , — An appearance ; with the Stoics, any mental impression 
 as received by the perceptive faculty before the Eeason has 
 pronounced upon it, a bare perception. 
 
INDEX OF EEFERENCES. 
 
 [The references in the right-hand column are to the hooks, chapters, and 
 verses of the Dissertations ^ to the chapters of the Encheiridionj and to the 
 Fragments^ in Schweighauser’s edition of Epictetus.] 
 
 Chap. I. 1 
 
 ,, ,, 2-5 .... 
 
 Chap. II 
 
 Chap. Ill 
 
 Chap. IV. 1 .... 
 ,, ,, 2 .... 
 
 if if 3 •••• 
 
 Chap. Y 
 
 Chap. VI 
 
 Chap. VII. 1, 2 
 ff ff 3..., 
 
 ff if S 
 
 Chap. VIIL 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Frag, III. 
 
 Diss. II. xi. 1-25. 
 
 Diss, I. xxii. 1-^6. 
 
 Fiss, I. i. 1-17. 
 
 :...i)^55. III. iii. 1-4. 
 
 Diss. I. xxix. 1-4 to \djSe. 
 
 Diss, I. XXV. 1-6. 
 
 Ench, I. 
 
 Diss, II. xiv, 
 
 Ench, II. 
 
 Diss, I. XV. 7, 8. 
 
 Diss, II. ix. 1-12. 
 
 Frag, LXXII. 
 
 Diss, III. xiii. 20-23. 
 
 Diss, III. xxii. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 Chap. I 
 
 
 Chap. II. 1 
 
 Frag, LXIX. 
 
 ff 9i 2, 3 
 
 
 if ff ^ 
 
 
 >3 ff ^f ^ 
 
 
 99 91 7, 8 
 
 
220 
 
 INDEX OF REFERENCES. 
 
 Chap. III. 1, 2 
 
 III., lY. 
 
 >> >1 3 
 
 
 >> >> ^ 
 
 Ench. Y., YI. 
 
 Chap. lY. 1, 2 
 
 
 Chap. Y. 1-3 
 
 
 >1 ft ^ 
 
 
 >1 >> ^ 
 
 
 Chap. YI. 1 
 
 Frag, CLXXX. 
 
 9f Jf 2 
 
 
 Chap. YII. 1-4 
 
 
 Chap. YIII. 1 
 
 Diss, I. ix. 1-8. 
 
 » , 2-6 
 
 
 Chap. IX. 1 
 
 
 » j> 2 
 
 
 jj >> 3 
 
 
 Chap. X. 1-4 
 
 
 if if 
 
 
 a fi ^ 
 
 
 fi if S 
 
 Diss, lY. vii. 19-24. 
 
 Chap. XI 
 
 
 Chap. XII 
 
 
 Chap. XIII. 1, 2 
 
 ....Ench. YIII. -IX. 
 
 fi 9> 
 
 
 Chap. XI Y 
 
 
 Chap. XY 
 
 Ench. XI. 
 
 Chap. XYI 
 
 Ench, XII. 
 
 Chap. XYII 
 
 Ench. XIII. 
 
 Chap. XYIII. 1, 2 
 
 Ench, XIY. 
 
 ff if ^ 
 
 
 if if ^ 
 
 Ench, XY. 
 
 Chap. XIX 
 
 Ench. XYI. 
 
 Chap. XX. 1 
 
 „.Ench. XYII. 
 
 if if 2 
 
 Dm. IV. I. 9-17. 
 
 Chap. XXI 
 
 Ench, XYIII. -XXL 
 
 Chap. XXII 
 
 Ench. XXII., XXIII. 
 
 Chap. XXIII 
 
 Ench, XXIY. 
 
 Chap. XXIY 
 
 Ench, XXY. 
 
 Chap. XXY 
 
 Ench, XXYI., XXYIL 
 
 Chap. XXYI 
 
 Ench. XXYIII. 
 
 Chap. XXYIL 
 
 „..,Ench. XXIX. 
 
INDEX OF REFERENCES. 
 
 221 
 
 Chap. I 
 
 Chap. II. 1, 2 .. 
 
 ft fj 3 7..... 
 Chap. III. 1-9 .. 
 
 Chap. lY. 1 
 
 ft tt 2, 3 .. 
 
 Chap. Y 
 
 Chap. YI. 1 
 
 9f tf 2 
 
 ft ff ^ 
 
 Chap. YII 
 
 Chap. YIII. 1-10 
 
 tf }f 
 
 Chap. IX. 1, 2 
 
 ft tt 3 •• 
 
 » >, 4 .. 
 
 Chap. X. 1 
 
 tt it 2 
 
 ft tf 
 
 ft ft 7 
 
 Chap. I 
 
 Chap. II. 1, 2 
 
 tt j> ^ 
 
 Chap. Ill 
 
 Chap. lY. 1, 2 
 
 tf ff ^ ••• 
 
 >> tf 
 
 Chap. Y 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 Ench. 
 
 Diss. 
 
 Diss. 
 
 Diss. 
 
 \ Diss. 
 
 Frag. 
 
 Diss. 
 
 Frag. 
 
 Frag. 
 
 \Frag. 
 
 Diss. 
 
 Diss. 
 
 tt 
 
 tf 
 
 Diss. 
 
 Frag. 
 
 Diss. 
 
 Frag. 
 
 Diss. 
 
 ft 
 
 ft 
 
 Diss. lY 
 
 XXX. 
 
 I. xxiii. 
 
 II. V. 24-30. 
 
 II. XX. 1-27. 
 
 I. xiii. 
 
 XLIIL, XLIY. 
 
 III. vii. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 XLY. 
 
 LXYII. 
 
 II. xxii. 
 
 III. xxiv, 1-49. 
 ft ft 58-63. 
 
 „ „ 88-93. 
 
 III. xiii. 1-17. 
 CLXXYI. 
 
 III. xiii. 18, 19. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 lY. V. 1-4. 
 
 „ „ 8-21. 
 
 ,, ,, 30-32. 
 
 r 33 to dyyixtfJLOPOs. 
 \ 35-37. 
 
 BOOK lY. 
 
 Ench. XXXI. 
 
 Diss, I. xii. 1-7. 
 
 Diss. I. xiv. 1-17. 
 
 Diss. I. xvi. 
 
 Diss. II. viii. 1-8. 
 
 Diss. I. vi. 13 from dWo — 22. 
 
 Diss. II. viii. 9-29. 
 
 Ench. XXXII. 
 
 Chap. I. 1-5 
 
 tf ff 8 .. 
 
 BOOK Y. 
 
 Ench. XXXIII. 1-6. 
 
 Diss. III. xvi. 5-9. 
 
 Ench. XXXIII. 7-16. 
 
222 
 
 INDEX OF REFERENCES. 
 
 Chap. II. 1-4 
 
 99 99 ^9 ^ 
 
 99 99 ^ 
 
 Chap. III. 1, 2 ... 
 
 99 99 4 ••• 
 
 Chap. lY 
 
 Chap. Y 
 
 Chap. YI 
 
 Chap. YII. 1 ... 
 
 99 99 2 
 
 Chap. YIII 
 
 Chap. IX 
 
 Chap. X 
 
 Chap. XI 
 
 Chap. XII. 1 
 
 99 99 2 
 
 99 99 
 
 ^ 5 
 
 Chap. Xni 
 
 Chap. XIY 
 
 Chap. XY 
 
 Chap. XYI. 1, 2 
 
 99 99 S ••• 
 
 99 99 ^ ••• 
 
 Chap, XYII 
 
 Chap. XYIII. ... 
 
 Chap. XIX 
 
 Chap. XX. 1 
 
 „ » 2-4 ... 
 
 Chap. XXI 
 
 Chap. XXII. 1, 2 
 „ „ 3-7 
 
 Chap. XXIII. ... 
 
 Chap. XXIY 
 
 Chap. XXY 
 
 Chap. XXYI 
 
 .Diss. II., xviii. 1-21 to 6.Tro9av6vTu:v 
 
 Diss. II. xviii. 23-32. 
 
 Diss. lY. xii. 19-21, 
 
 ...Diss. II. xii. 1-4. 
 
 99 99 99 17-25. 
 
 Ench. XXXIY. 
 
 Ench. XXXY. 
 
 Ench. XXXYI. 
 
 Emh. XXXYII. 
 
 Diss. 1. ii. 30-32. 
 
 Ench. XXXYIII. 
 
 Ench. XXXIX. 
 
 Ench. XL. 
 
 Ench. XLI. 
 
 Diss. III. i. 1-9. 
 
 Diss. ,, ,, 40-44. 
 
 Diss. lY. xi. 22-29. 
 
 99 99 9 9 35, 36. 
 
 Ench. XLII. 
 
 Ench. XLIII. 
 
 Ench. XLIY. 
 
 Ench. XLY. 
 
 Diss. I. XXYIII. 1-9. 
 
 „ „ „ 11-25. 
 
 Ench. XLYI. 
 
 Ench. XLYII. 
 
 Ench. XLYIII. 
 
 Diss. 1. xvii. 1, 2. 
 
 „ „ „ 4-12. 
 
 Ench. XLIX. 
 
 Diss. II. xxiii. 1-10. 
 
 „ „ ,, 20-47. 
 
 Ench. L. 
 
 Ench. LI. 
 
 Ench. LII. 
 
 Ench. LI II. 
 
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