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This Hacker News post presents Project Gutenberg's eBook of Epictetus's 'The Enchiridion,' translated by Thomas W. Higginson and featuring an introduction by Albert Salomon. The text is noted as a reprint of the first edition with minor corrections and publisher's explanatory notes.
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此篇 Hacker News 文章介紹了古騰堡計畫提供的愛比克泰德著作《手冊》電子書，由 Thomas W. Higginson 翻譯，並附有 Albert Salomon 的導言。內文指出此版本為初版的重印，進行了些微的風格、標點和拼寫修正，並加入出版者的註解。
The Library of Liberal Arts
OSKAR PIEST, General Editor
[NUMBER EIGHT]
EPICTETUS
The Enchiridion
By
EPICTETUS
Translated by
THOMAS W. HIGGINSON
With an Introduction by
ALBERT SALOMON
Professor of Sociology
New School for Social Research
THE LIBERAL ARTS PRESS
NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1948
THE LIBERAL ARTS PRESS, INC.
First Edition, October, 1948
Reprinted
December, 1950; August, 1954
Second Edition, November, 1955
Published at 153 West 72nd Street, New York 23, N. Y.
Printed in the United States of America
The text of the second edition is a reprint of the first
edition except for a few minor corrections in style, punctuation,
and spelling, which have been revised to conform to
current American usage.
The editorial staff of the publishers has added a few explanatory
notes which are set in brackets and marked “Ed.”
O.P.
The little book by Epictetus called Enchiridion or “manual”
has played a disproportionately large role in the rise of
modern attitudes and modern philosophy. As soon as it had
been translated into the vernacular languages, it became a
bestseller among independent intellectuals, among anti-Christian
thinkers, and among philosophers of a subjective
cast. Montaigne had a copy of the Enchiridion among his
books. Pascal violently rejected the megalomaniac pride of
the Stoic philosopher. Frederick the Great carried the book
with him on all campaigns. It was a source of inspiration and
encouragement to Anthony, Earl of Shaftesbury, in the serious
illness which ended only in his death; many pages of his
diaries contain passages copied from the Enchiridion. It has
been studied and widely quoted by Scottish philosophers like
Francis Hutcheson, Adam Smith, and Adam Ferguson who
valued Stoic moral philosophy for its reconciliation of social
dependency and personal independence.
That there was a rebirth of Stoicism in the centuries of
rebirth which marked the emergence of the modern age was
not mere chance. Philosophical, moral, and social conditions
of the time united to cause it. Roman Stoicism had been developed
in times of despotism as a philosophy of lonely and
courageous souls who had recognized the redeeming power of
philosophical reason in all the moral and social purposes of
life. Philosophy as a way of life makes men free. It is the last
ditch stand of liberty in a world of servitude. Many elements
in the new age led to thought which had structural affinity
with Roman Stoicism. Modern times had created the independent
thinker, the free intellectual in a secular civilization.
Modern times had destroyed medieval liberties and had established
the new despotism of the absolute state supported by
ecclesiastical authority. Modern philosophies continued the
basic trend in Stoicism in making the subjective consciousness
the foundation of philosophy. The Stoic emphasis on moral
problems was also appealing in an era of rapid transition
when all the values which had previously been taken for
granted were questioned and reconsidered.
While it is interesting to observe how varied were the
effects produced by this small volume, this epitome of the
Stoic system of moral philosophy, these effects seem still more
remarkable when we consider that it was not intended to be
a philosophical treatise on Stoicism for students. It was,
rather, to be a guide for the advanced student of Stoicism to
show him the best roads toward the goal of becoming a true
philosopher. Thus Epictetus and his Enchiridion have a
unique position in Roman Stoicism. Seneca and Marcus
Aurelius had selected Stoic philosophy as the most adequate
system for expressing their existential problems of independence,
solitude, and history. In this enterprise, Seneca made
tremendous strides toward the insights of social psychology
as a by-product of his consciousness of decadence (in this he
was close to Nietzsche), but he was not primarily concerned
with the unity of the Stoic system. Marcus Aurelius changed
the philosophical doctrine into the regimen of the lonesome
ruler. In contrast to both, Epictetus was teaching Stoic philosophy
as a doctrine and as a way of life. The Enchiridion is
a summary of theoretical and applied Stoicism.
Epictetus was the son of a woman slave, born between 50
and 60 A.D. at Hieropolis in Phrygia. We do not know how
he came to Rome. He was there as slave to one of Nero’s distinguished
freedmen who served as the Emperor’s secretary.
While still in service, Epictetus took courses with Musonius
Rufus, the fashionable Stoic philosopher, who was impressed
by the sincere and dynamic personality of the young slave and
trained him to be a Stoic philosopher. Epictetus became a free
man and began teaching philosophy on street corners, in the
market, but he was not successful. During the rule of Domitian,
Epictetus with many other philosophers was exiled from
Rome, probably between 89 and 92 A.D. He went to Nicopolis,
across Actium in Epirus, where he conducted his own
school. He was so well regarded and highly esteemed that he
established the reputation of the place as the town of Epictetus’
school. Students came from Athens and Rome to attend
his classes. Private citizens came to ask his advice and guidance.
Some of his students returned to their homes to enter
the traditional careers to which they were socially obligated.
Others assumed the philosophic way of life in order to escape
into the sphere of Stoic freedom.
Among the students was a young Roman, Flavius Arrian,
who took courses at Nicopolis when Epictetus was already
old. Flavius, who was born in 108 A.D., was one of the intimates
of Hadrian, who made him consul in 130 A.D. He
probably studied with Epictetus between the years 123 and
126 A.D. The informal philosophical talks which Epictetus
had with his students fascinated him. Needless to say there
were also systematic courses in the fields of philosophy. But
it was the informal discourses which convinced Arrian that
he had finally discovered a Stoic Socrates or a Stoic Diogenes,
who was not merely teaching a doctrine, but also living the
truth. Arrian recorded many of the discourses and informal
conversations of Epictetus with his intimate students. He took
them down in shorthand in order not to lose the ineffable
liveliness, grace, and wit of the beloved teacher. Arrian retired
into private life after the death of Hadrian in 138 A.D.
and dedicated himself to his literary work. He published his
notes on Epictetus’ teaching under the title: Discourses in
Four Books. The Enchiridion, which was also arranged by
Arrian, is a brief summary of the basic ideas of Stoic philosophy
and an introduction to the techniques required to transform
Stoic philosophy into a way of life.
Thus we do not have any original writings of Epictetus.
Like G. H. Mead in recent times, he was completely dedicated
to the human and intellectual problems of his students. He
left it for them to preserve what they considered to be the
lasting message of the teacher. In contrast to Seneca and
Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus had no subjective approach to the
Stoic doctrines. Moral philosophy was the center of his teaching,
and epistemology was only instrumental. It is even permissible
to say that he took physics or cosmology too lightly.
If this is granted, we must admit that he is completely absorbed
by the fundamentals of Stoic thought as presented in
the Enchiridion. Epictetus’ personality is totally integrated in
the act of reasoning which establishes conformity with nature.
A remarkable difference between the Discourses and the
Enchiridion should be mentioned. The Discourses are a living
image of the teacher in action; they present the process of
philosophizing, not the finished product. They show the enthusiastic
and sober, the realistic and pathetic moralist in
constantly changing perspectives determined by the changing
students with their various concerns, problems, and questions;
his teachings, his formulations, have direct reference
to the various life situations in which the students should
apply and practice the master’s Stoic teaching. No human
situation is omitted; as a guide to conduct, philosophy has
relevance for all. Whether the students have to attend a dinner
party, whether they are among competitors in a stadium
or in a swimming pool, whether they have to present themselves
at court or in an office, whether they are in the company
of their mothers and sisters or of girl friends, in all human
situations the philosopher knows the correct advice for the
philosophical apprentice. Thus, in the Discourses, Arrian presents
the unique individuality of the philosopher and of his
applied moral method in living contact with various students
in concrete situations. Epictetus as teacher anticipates very
modern educational methods in his regard for the structure
of situations and the changing perspectives in human relationships.
Nothing like this is revealed in the Enchiridion. Gone is
the Stoic philosopher as living spirit. What remains is the
living spirit of Stoicism. The Enchiridion is a manual for the
combat officer. This analogy should be taken seriously. The
Roman Stoics coined the formula: Vivere militare! (Life is
being a soldier.) The student of philosophy is a private, the
advancing Stoic is a non-commissioned officer, and the philosopher
is the combat officer. For this reason all Roman Stoics
apply metaphors and images derived from military life. Apprentice
students of Stoicism are described as messengers, as
scouts of God, as representatives of divine nature. The advancing
student who is close to the goal of being a philosopher
has the rank of an officer. He is already able to establish
inner freedom and independence. He understands the basic
Stoic truth of subjective consciousness, which is to distinguish
what is in our power from what is not in our power. Not in
our power are all the elements which constitute our environment,
such as wealth, health, reputation, social prestige,
power, the lives of those we love, and death. In our power are
our thinking, our intentions, our desires, our decisions. These
make it possible for us to control ourselves and to make of
ourselves elements and parts of the universe of nature. This
knowledge of ourselves makes us free in a world of dependencies.
This superiority of our powers enables us to live in
conformity with nature. The rational philosophy of control
of Self and of adjustment to the Whole implies an asceticism
of the emotional and the sensitive life. The philosopher must
examine and control his passions, his love, his tenderness at
all times in order always to be ready for the inevitable moment
of farewell. The Stoics practiced a Jesuitism avant la
lettre. They were able to live in the world as if they did not
live in it. To the Stoic, life is a military camp, a play on the
stage, a banquet to which we are invited. The Enchiridion
briefly indicated the techniques which the philosopher should
apply in acting well the diverse roles which God might assign
to those whom he loves, the Stoic philosophers. From the
rules of social conduct to the recommendations of sexual
asceticism before marriage, and the method of true thinking,
the advanced Stoic will find all principles of perfection and
all precepts for realizing philosophical principles in his conduct
in this tiny volume.
Thus the Enchiridion was liberating for all intellectuals
who learned from it that there are philosophical ways of self-redemption.
From its time, the secular thinker could feel
jubilant because he was not in need of a divine grace. Epictetus
had taught him that philosophical reason could make
him free and that he was capable of redeeming himself by
sound reasoning.
In the Stoic distinctions of personality and world, of I and
mine, of subjective consciousness and the world of objects,
of freedom and dependence, we find implicit the basic elements
of modern philosophies of rationalism and of objective
idealism or pantheism. For this reason there is a continuous
renascence of Stoicism from Descartes, Grotius, and Bishop
Butler, to Montesquieu, Adam Smith, and Kant. In this long
development in modern times, the tiny Enchiridion of Epictetus
played a remarkable part.
The translations of Epictetus and of all other Stoics had the
widest effect on philosophers, theologians, and lay thinkers.
They were studied by the clergy of the various Christian denominations,
by the scientists who were striving for a natural
religion, and by the independent philosophers who were eager
to separate philosophy from religion. There were many outstanding
bishops in the Catholic and Anglican Churches who
were eager to transform the traditions of Roman Stoicism
into Christian Stoicism. Among the Calvinistic denominations
were many thinkers who were in sympathy with Stoic moral
principles because of their praise of the austerity of life and
of the control of passions. Likewise the adherents of natural
religion were propagating Stoicism as the ideal pattern of
universally valid and intelligible religion. Renascent Stoicism
had three functions in the rise of the modern world. First, it
reconciled Christian traditions to modern rationalistic philosophies;
secondly, it established an ideal pattern of natural
religion; and, thirdly, it opened the way for the autonomy of
morals.
ALBERT SALOMON
The New School for Social Research
July, 1948
There are things which are within our power, and there
are things which are beyond our power. Within our power
are opinion, aim, desire, aversion, and, in one word, whatever
affairs are our own. Beyond our power are body, property,
reputation, office, and, in one word, whatever are not
properly our own affairs.
Now the things within our power are by nature free, unrestricted,
unhindered; but those beyond our power are weak,
dependent, restricted, alien. Remember, then, that if you
attribute freedom to things by nature dependent and take
what belongs to others for your own, you will be hindered,
you will lament, you will be disturbed, you will find fault
both with gods and men. But if you take for your own only
that which is your own and view what belongs to others just
as it really is, then no one will ever compel you, no one will
restrict you; you will find fault with no one, you will accuse
no one, you will do nothing against your will; no one will
hurt you, you will not have an enemy, nor will you suffer
any harm.
Aiming, therefore, at such great things, remember that you
must not allow yourself any inclination, however slight, toward
the attainment of the others; but that you must entirely
quit some of them, and for the present postpone the rest.
But if you would have these, and possess power and wealth
likewise, you may miss the latter in seeking the former; and
you will certainly fail of that by which alone happiness and
freedom are procured.
Seek at once, therefore, to be able to say to every unpleasing
semblance, “You are but a semblance and by no means
the real thing.” And then examine it by those rules which
you have; and first and chiefly by this: whether it concerns
the things which are within our own power or those which
are not; and if it concerns anything beyond our power, be
prepared to say that it is nothing to you.
Remember that desire demands the attainment of that of
which you are desirous; and aversion demands the avoidance
of that to which you are averse; that he who fails of the object
of his desires is disappointed; and he who incurs the object
of his aversion is wretched. If, then, you shun only those undesirable
things which you can control, you will never incur
anything which you shun; but if you shun sickness, or death,
or poverty, you will run the risk of wretchedness. Remove
[the habit of] aversion, then, from all things that are not
within our power, and apply it to things undesirable which
are within our power. But for the present, altogether restrain
desire; for if you desire any of the things not within our own
power, you must necessarily be disappointed; and you are
not yet secure of those which are within our power, and so
are legitimate objects of desire. Where it is practically necessary
for you to pursue or avoid anything, do even this with
discretion and gentleness and moderation.
With regard to whatever objects either delight the mind or
contribute to use or are tenderly beloved, remind yourself of
what nature they are, beginning with the merest trifles: if
you have a favorite cup, that it is but a cup of which you are
fond of—for thus, if it is broken, you can bear it; if you embrace
your child or your wife, that you embrace a mortal—and
thus, if either of them dies, you can bear it.
When you set about any action, remind yourself of what
nature the action is. If you are going to bathe, represent to
yourself the incidents usual in the bath—some persons pouring
out, others pushing in, others scolding, others pilfering.
And thus you will more safely go about this action if you
say to yourself, “I will now go to bathe and keep my own will
in harmony with nature.” And so with regard to every other
action. For thus, if any impediment arises in bathing, you will
be able to say, “It was not only to bathe that I desired, but
to keep my will in harmony with nature; and I shall not keep
it thus if I am out of humor at things that happen.”
Men are disturbed not by things, but by the views which
they take of things. Thus death is nothing terrible, else it
would have appeared so to Socrates. But the terror consists in
our notion of death, that it is terrible. When, therefore, we
are hindered or disturbed, or grieved, let us never impute it
to others, but to ourselves—that is, to our own views. It is the
action of an uninstructed person to reproach others for his
own misfortunes; of one entering upon instruction, to reproach
himself; and one perfectly instructed, to reproach
neither others nor himself.
Be not elated at any excellence not your own. If a horse
should be elated, and say, “I am handsome,” it might be endurable.
But when you are elated and say, “I have a handsome
horse,” know that you are elated only on the merit of
the horse. What then is your own? The use of the phenomena
of existence. So that when you are in harmony with nature
in this respect, you will be elated with some reason; for you
will be elated at some good of your own.
As in a voyage, when the ship is at anchor, if you go on
shore to get water, you may amuse yourself with picking up
a shellfish or a truffle in your way, but your thoughts ought
to be bent toward the ship, and perpetually attentive, lest the
captain should call, and then you must leave all these things,
that you may not have to be carried on board the vessel,
bound like a sheep; thus likewise in life, if, instead of a truffle
or shellfish, such a thing as a wife or a child be granted you,
there is no objection; but if the captain calls, run to the ship,
leave all these things, and never look behind. But if you are
old, never go far from the ship, lest you should be missing
when called for.
Demand not that events should happen as you wish; but
wish them to happen as they do happen, and you will go on
well.
Sickness is an impediment to the body, but not to the will
unless itself pleases. Lameness is an impediment to the leg,
but not to the will; and say this to yourself with regard to
everything that happens. For you will find it to be an impediment
to something else, but not truly to yourself.
Upon every accident, remember to turn toward yourself
and inquire what faculty you have for its use. If you encounter
a handsome person, you will find continence the faculty
needed; if pain, then fortitude; if reviling, then patience.
And when thus habituated, the phenomena of existence will
not overwhelm you.
Never say of anything, “I have lost it,” but, “I have restored
it.” Has your child died? It is restored. Has your wife died?
She is restored. Has your estate been taken away? That likewise
is restored. “But it was a bad man who took it.” What
is it to you by whose hands he who gave it has demanded it
again? While he permits you to possess it, hold it as something
not your own, as do travelers at an inn.
If you would improve, lay aside such reasonings as these:
“If I neglect my affairs, I shall not have a maintenance; if
I do not punish my servant, he will be good for nothing.”
For it were better to die of hunger, exempt from grief and
fear, than to live in affluence with perturbation; and it is
better that your servant should be bad than you unhappy.
Begin therefore with little things. Is a little oil spilled or a
little wine stolen? Say to yourself, “This is the price paid for
peace and tranquillity; and nothing is to be had for nothing.”
And when you call your servant, consider that it is possible
he may not come at your call; or, if he does, that he may not
do what you wish. But it is not at all desirable for him, and
very undesirable for you, that it should be in his power to
cause you any disturbance.
If you would improve, be content to be thought foolish
and dull with regard to externals. Do not desire to be thought
to know anything; and though you should appear to others to
be somebody, distrust yourself. For be assured, it is not easy
at once to keep your will in harmony with nature and to
secure externals; but while you are absorbed in the one, you
must of necessity neglect the other.
If you wish your children and your wife and your friends
to live forever, you are foolish, for you wish things to be in
your power which are not so, and what belongs to others to
be your own. So likewise, if you wish your servant to be without
fault, you are foolish, for you wish vice not to be vice but
something else. But if you wish not to be disappointed in
your desires, that is in your own power. Exercise, therefore,
what is in your power. A man’s master is he who is able to
confer or remove whatever that man seeks or shuns. Whoever
then would be free, let him wish nothing, let him decline
nothing, which depends on others; else he must necessarily
be a slave.
Remember that you must behave as at a banquet. Is anything
brought round to you? Put out your hand and take a
moderate share. Does it pass by you? Do not stop it. Is it not
yet come? Do not yearn in desire toward it, but wait till it
reaches you. So with regard to children, wife, office, riches;
and you will some time or other be worthy to feast with the
gods. And if you do not so much as take the things which are
set before you, but are able even to forego them, then you
will not only be worthy to feast with the gods, but to rule
with them also. For, by thus doing, Diogenes and Heraclitus,
and others like them, deservedly became divine, and were
so recognized.
When you see anyone weeping for grief, either that his son
has gone abroad or that he has suffered in his affairs, take
care not to be overcome by the apparent evil, but discriminate
and be ready to say, “What hurts this man is not this occurrence
itself—for another man might not be hurt by it—but the
view he chooses to take of it.” As far as conversation goes,
however, do not disdain to accommodate yourself to him and,
if need be, to groan with him. Take heed, however, not to
groan inwardly, too.
Remember that you are an actor in a drama of such sort as
the Author chooses—if short, then in a short one; if long,
then in a long one. If it be his pleasure that you should enact
a poor man, or a cripple, or a ruler, or a private citizen, see
that you act it well. For this is your business—to act well the
given part, but to choose it belongs to another.
When a raven happens to croak unluckily, be not overcome
by appearances, but discriminate and say, “Nothing is
portended to me, either to my paltry body, or property,
or reputation, or children, or wife. But to me all portents
are lucky if I will. For whatsoever happens, it belongs to me
to derive advantage therefrom.”
You can be unconquerable if you enter into no combat in
which it is not in your own power to conquer. When, therefore,
you see anyone eminent in honors or power, or in high
esteem on any other account, take heed not to be bewildered
by appearances and to pronounce him happy; for if the essence
of good consists in things within our own power, there
will be no room for envy or emulation. But, for your part,
do not desire to be a general, or a senator, or a consul, but
to be free; and the only way to this is a disregard of things
which lie not within our own power.
Remember that it is not he who gives abuse or blows, who
affronts, but the view we take of these things as insulting.
When, therefore, anyone provokes you, be assured that it is
your own opinion which provokes you. Try, therefore, in the
first place, not to be bewildered by appearances. For if you
once gain time and respite, you will more easily command
yourself.
Let death and exile, and all other things which appear terrible,
be daily before your eyes, but death chiefly; and you
will never entertain an abject thought, nor too eagerly covet
anything.
If you have an earnest desire toward philosophy, prepare
yourself from the very first to have the multitude laugh and
sneer, and say, “He is returned to us a philosopher all at
once”; and, “Whence this supercilious look?” Now, for your
part, do not have a supercilious look indeed, but keep steadily
to those things which appear best to you, as one appointed
by God to this particular station. For remember that, if you
are persistent, those very persons who at first ridiculed will
afterwards admire you. But if you are conquered by them,
you will incur a double ridicule.
If you ever happen to turn your attention to externals, for
the pleasure of anyone, be assured that you have ruined your
scheme of life. Be content, then, in everything, with being a
philosopher; and if you wish to seem so likewise to anyone,
appear so to yourself, and it will suffice you.
Let not such considerations as these distress you: “I shall
live in discredit and be nobody anywhere.” For if discredit be
an evil, you can no more be involved in evil through another
than in baseness. Is it any business of yours, then, to get power
or to be admitted to an entertainment? By no means. How
then, after all, is this discredit? And how it is true that you
will be nobody anywhere when you ought to be somebody in
those things only which are within your own power, in which
you may be of the greatest consequence? “But my friends will
be unassisted.” What do you mean by “unassisted”? They will
not have money from you, nor will you make them Roman
citizens. Who told you, then, that these are among the things
within our own power, and not rather the affairs of others?
And who can give to another the things which he himself
has not? “Well, but get them, then, that we too may have a
share.” If I can get them with the preservation of my own
honor and fidelity and self-respect, show me the way and I
will get them; but if you require me to lose my own proper
good, that you may gain what is no good, consider how unreasonable
and foolish you are. Besides, which would you
rather have, a sum of money or a faithful and honorable
friend? Rather assist me, then, to gain this character than
require me to do those things by which I may lose it. Well,
but my country, say you, as far as depends upon me, will be
unassisted. Here, again, what assistance is this you mean? It
will not have porticos nor baths of your providing? And what
signifies that? Why, neither does a smith provide it with
shoes, nor a shoemaker with arms. It is enough if everyone
fully performs his own proper business. And were you to
supply it with another faithful and honorable citizen, would
not he be of use to it? Yes. Therefore neither are you yourself
useless to it. “What place, then,” say you, “shall I hold
in the state?” Whatever you can hold with the preservation
of your fidelity and honor. But if, by desiring to be useful
to that, you lose these, how can you serve your country when
you have become faithless and shameless?
Is anyone preferred before you at an entertainment, or in
courtesies, or in confidential intercourse? If these things are
good, you ought to rejoice that he has them; and if they are
evil, do not be grieved that you have them not. And remember
that you cannot be permitted to rival others in externals
without using the same means to obtain them. For how can
he who will not haunt the door of any man, will not attend
him, will not praise him, have an equal share with him who
does these things? You are unjust, then, and unreasonable if
you are unwilling to pay the price for which these things are
sold, and would have them for nothing. For how much are
lettuces sold? An obulus, for instance. If another, then, paying
an obulus, takes the lettuces, and you, not paying it, go without
them, do not imagine that he has gained any advantage
over you. For as he has the lettuces, so you have the obulus
which you did not give. So, in the present case, you have not
been invited to such a person’s entertainment because you
have not paid him the price for which a supper is sold. It is
sold for praise; it is sold for attendance. Give him, then, the
value if it be for your advantage. But if you would at the
same time not pay the one, and yet receive the other, you are
unreasonable and foolish. Have you nothing, then, in place
of the supper? Yes, indeed, you have—not to praise him whom
you do not like to praise; not to bear the insolence of his
lackeys.
The will of nature may be learned from things upon which
we are all agreed. As when our neighbor’s boy has broken a
cup, or the like, we are ready at once to say, “These are
casualties that will happen”; be assured, then, that when
your own cup is likewise broken, you ought to be affected just
as when another’s cup was broken. Now apply this to greater
things. Is the child or wife of another dead? There is no one
who would not say, “This is an accident of mortality.” But if
anyone’s own child happens to die, it is immediately, “Alas!
how wretched am I!” It should be always remembered how
we are affected on hearing the same thing concerning others.
As a mark[1] is not set up for the sake of missing the aim,
so neither does the nature of evil exist in the world.
If a person had delivered up your body to some passer-by,
you would certainly be angry. And do you feel no shame in
delivering up your own mind to any reviler, to be disconcerted
and confounded?
In every affair consider what precedes and what follows,
and then undertake it. Otherwise you will begin with spirit,
indeed, careless of the consequences, and when these are developed,
you will shamefully desist. “I would conquer at the
Olympic Games.” But consider what precedes and what follows,
and then, if it be for your advantage, engage in the
affair. You must conform to rules, submit to a diet, refrain
from dainties; exercise your body, whether you choose it or
not, at a stated hour, in heat and cold; you must drink no
cold water, and sometimes no wine—in a word, you must give
yourself up to your trainer as to a physician. Then, in the
combat, you may be thrown into a ditch, dislocate your arm,
turn your ankle, swallow an abundance of dust, receive stripes
[for negligence], and, after all, lose the victory. When you
have reckoned up all this, if your inclination still holds, set
about the combat. Otherwise, take notice, you will behave
like children who sometimes play wrestlers, sometimes gladiators,
sometimes blow a trumpet, and sometimes act a tragedy,
when they happen to have seen and admired these shows.
Thus you too will be at one time a wrestler, and another a
gladiator; now a philosopher, now an orator; but nothing in
earnest. Like an ape you mimic all you see, and one thing
after another is sure to please you, but is out of favor as
soon as it becomes familiar. For you have never entered upon
anything considerately; nor after having surveyed and tested
the whole matter, but carelessly, and with a halfway zeal.
Thus some, when they have seen a philosopher and heard a man speaking like
Euphrates[3]—though, indeed, who can
speak like him?—have a mind to be philosophers, too. Consider
first, man, what the matter is, and what your own nature
is able to bear. If you would be a wrestler, consider your
shoulders, your back, your thighs; for different persons are
made for different things. Do you think that you can act as
you do and be a philosopher, that you can eat, drink, be
angry, be discontented, as you are now? You must watch, you
must labor, you must get the better of certain appetites, must
quit your acquaintances, be despised by your servant, be
laughed at by those you meet; come off worse than others in
everything—in offices, in honors, before tribunals. When you
have fully considered all these things, approach, if you please—that
is, if, by parting with them, you have a mind to purchase
serenity, freedom, and tranquillity. If not, do not come
hither; do not, like children, be now a philosopher, then a
publican, then an orator, and then one of Caesar’s officers.
These things are not consistent. You must be one man, either
good or bad. You must cultivate either your own reason or
else externals; apply yourself either to things within or without
you—that is, be either a philosopher or one of the mob.
Duties are universally measured by relations. Is a certain
man your father? In this are implied taking care of him, submitting
to him in all things, patiently receiving his reproaches,
his correction. But he is a bad father. Is your natural tie,
then, to a good father? No, but to a father. Is a brother unjust?
Well, preserve your own just relation toward him. Consider
not what he does, but what you are to do to keep your
own will in a state conformable to nature, for another cannot
hurt you unless you please. You will then be hurt when
you consent to be hurt. In this manner, therefore, if you
accustom yourself to contemplate the relations of neighbor,
citizen, commander, you can deduce from each the corresponding
duties.
Be assured that the essence of piety toward the gods lies in
this—to form right opinions concerning them, as existing and
as governing the universe justly and well. And fix yourself
in this resolution, to obey them, and yield to them, and willingly
follow them amidst all events, as being ruled by the
most perfect wisdom. For thus you will never find fault with
the gods, nor accuse them of neglecting you. And it is not
possible for this to be affected in any other way than by withdrawing
yourself from things which are not within our own
power, and by making good or evil to consist only in those
which are. For if you suppose any other things to be either
good or evil, it is inevitable that, when you are disappointed
of what you wish or incur what you would avoid, you should
reproach and blame their authors. For every creature is naturally
formed to flee and abhor things that appear hurtful and
that which causes them; and to pursue and admire those
which appear beneficial and that which causes them. It is
impracticable, then, that one who supposes himself to be hurt
should rejoice in the person who, as he thinks, hurts him,
just as it is impossible to rejoice in the hurt itself. Hence,
also, a father is reviled by his son when he does not impart
the things which seem to be good; and this made Polynices
and Eteocles[4]
mutually enemies—that empire seemed good
to both. On this account the husbandman reviles the gods;
[and so do] the sailor, the merchant, or those who have lost
wife or child. For where our interest is, there, too, is piety
directed. So that whoever is careful to regulate his desires and
aversions as he ought is thus made careful of piety likewise.
But it also becomes incumbent on everyone to offer libations
and sacrifices and first fruits, according to the customs of his
country, purely, and not heedlessly nor negligently; not avariciously,
nor yet extravagantly.
When you have recourse to divination, remember that you
know not what the event will be, and you come to learn
it of the diviner; but of what nature it is you knew before
coming; at least, if you are of philosophic mind. For if it is
among the things not within our own power, it can by no
means be either good or evil. Do not, therefore, bring with
you to the diviner either desire or aversion—else you will
approach him trembling—but first clearly understand that
every event is indifferent and nothing to you, of whatever
sort it may be; for it will be in your power to make a right
use of it, and this no one can hinder. Then come with confidence
to the gods as your counselors; and afterwards, when
any counsel is given you, remember what counselors you have
assumed, and whose advice you will neglect if you disobey.
Come to divination as Socrates prescribed, in cases of which
the whole consideration relates to the event, and in which
no opportunities are afforded by reason or any other art to
discover the matter in view. When, therefore, it is our duty
to share the danger of a friend or of our country, we ought
not to consult the oracle as to whether we shall share it with
them or not. For though the diviner should forewarn you
that the auspices are unfavorable, this means no more than
that either death or mutilation or exile is portended. But we
have reason within us; and it directs us, even with these
hazards, to stand by our friend and our country. Attend,
therefore, to the greater diviner, the Pythian God, who once
cast out of the temple him who neglected to save his
friend.[5]
Begin by prescribing to yourself some character and demeanor,
such as you may preserve both alone and in company.
Be mostly silent, or speak merely what is needful, and in
few words. We may, however, enter sparingly into discourse
sometimes, when occasion calls for it; but let it not run on
any of the common subjects, as gladiators, or horse races, or
athletic champions, or food, or drink—the vulgar topics of
conversation—and especially not on men, so as either to
blame, or praise, or make comparisons. If you are able, then,
by your own conversation, bring over that of your company
to proper subjects; but if you happen to find yourself among
strangers, be silent.
Let not your laughter be loud, frequent, or abundant.
Avoid taking oaths, if possible, altogether; at any rate, so
far as you are able.
Avoid public and vulgar entertainments; but if ever an
occasion calls you to them, keep your attention upon the
stretch, that you may not imperceptibly slide into vulgarity.
For be assured that if a person be ever so pure himself, yet,
if his companion be corrupted, he who converses with him
will be corrupted likewise.
Provide things relating to the body no further than absolute
need requires, as meat, drink, clothing, house, retinue.
But cut off everything that looks toward show and luxury.
Before marriage guard yourself with all your ability from
unlawful intercourse with women; yet be not uncharitable or
severe to those who are led into this, nor boast frequently
that you yourself do otherwise.
If anyone tells you that a certain person speaks ill of you, do
not make excuses about what is said of you, but answer: “He
was ignorant of my other faults, else he would not have mentioned
these alone.”
It is not necessary for you to appear often at public spectacles;
but if ever there is a proper occasion for you to be there,
do not appear more solicitous for any other than for yourself—that
is, wish things to be only just as they are, and only
the best man to win; for thus nothing will go against you. But
abstain entirely from acclamations and derision and violent
emotions. And when you come away, do not discourse a great
deal on what has passed and what contributes nothing to
your own amendment. For it would appear by such discourse
that you were dazzled by the show.
Be not prompt or ready to attend private recitations; but if
you do attend, preserve your gravity and dignity, and yet
avoid making yourself disagreeable.
When you are going to confer with anyone, and especially
with one who seems your superior, represent to yourself how
Socrates or Zeno[6] would behave in such a case, and you will
not be at a loss to meet properly whatever may occur.
When you are going before anyone in power, fancy to
yourself that you may not find him at home, that you may
be shut out, that the doors may not be opened to you, that
he may not notice you. If, with all this, it be your duty to go,
bear what happens and never say to yourself, “It was not
worth so much”; for this is vulgar, and like a man bewildered
by externals.
In company, avoid a frequent and excessive mention of
your own actions and dangers. For however agreeable it may
be to yourself to allude to the risks you have run, it is not
equally agreeable to others to hear your adventures. Avoid
likewise an endeavor to excite laughter, for this may readily
slide you into vulgarity, and, besides, may be apt to lower
you in the esteem of your acquaintance. Approaches to indecent
discourse are likewise dangerous. Therefore, when
anything of this sort happens, use the first fit opportunity to
rebuke him who makes advances that way, or, at least, by
silence and blushing and a serious look show yourself to be
displeased by such talk.
If you are dazzled by the semblance of any promised pleasure,
guard yourself against being bewildered by it; but let
the affair wait your leisure, and procure yourself some delay.
Then bring to your mind both points of time—that in which
you shall enjoy the pleasure, and that in which you will
repent and reproach yourself, after you have enjoyed it—and
set before you, in opposition to these, how you will rejoice
and applaud yourself if you abstain. And even though it
should appear to you a seasonable gratification, take heed
that its enticements and allurements and seductions may not
subdue you, but set in opposition to this how much better it
is to be conscious of having gained so great a victory.
When you do anything from a clear judgment that it ought
to be done, never shrink from being seen to do it, even though
the world should misunderstand it; for if you are not acting
rightly, shun the action itself; if you are, why fear those who
wrongly censure you?
As the proposition, “either it is day or it is night,” has
much force in a disjunctive argument, but none at all in a
conjunctive one, so, at a feast, to choose the largest share is
very suitable to the bodily appetite, but utterly inconsistent
with the social spirit of the entertainment. Remember, then,
when you eat with another, not only the value to the body of
those things which are set before you, but also the value of
proper courtesy toward your host.
If you have assumed any character beyond your strength,
you have both demeaned yourself ill in that and quitted one
which you might have supported.
As in walking you take care not to tread upon a nail, or
turn your foot, so likewise take care not to hurt the ruling
faculty of your mind. And if we were to guard against this
in every action, we should enter upon action more safely.
The body is to everyone the proper measure of its possessions,
as the foot is of the shoe. If, therefore, you stop at
this, you will keep the measure; but if you move beyond it,
you must necessarily be carried forward, as down a precipice;
as in the case of a shoe, if you go beyond its fitness to the
foot, it comes first to be gilded, then purple, and then studded
with jewels. For to that which once exceeds the fit measure
there is no bound.
Women from fourteen years old are flattered by men with
the title of mistresses. Therefore, perceiving that they are regarded
only as qualified to give men pleasure, they begin to
adorn themselves, and in that to place all their hopes. It is
worth while, therefore, to try that they may perceive themselves
honored only so far as they appear beautiful in their
demeanor and modestly virtuous.
It is a mark of want of intellect to spend much time in
things relating to the body, as to be immoderate in exercises,
in eating and drinking, and in the discharge of other animal
functions. These things should be done incidentally and our
main strength be applied to our reason.
When any person does ill by you, or speaks ill of you,
remember that he acts or speaks from an impression that it is
right for him to do so. Now it is not possible that he should
follow what appears right to you, but only what appears so
to himself. Therefore, if he judges from false appearances,
he is the person hurt, since he, too, is the person deceived.
For if anyone takes a true proposition to be false, the proposition
is not hurt, but only the man is deceived. Setting out,
then, from these principles, you will meekly bear with a person
who reviles you, for you will say upon every occasion,
“It seemed so to him.”
Everything has two handles: one by which it may be borne,
another by which it cannot. If your brother acts unjustly, do
not lay hold on the affair by the handle of his injustice, for
by that it cannot be borne, but rather by the opposite—that
he is your brother, that he was brought up with you; and
thus you will lay hold on it as it is to be borne.
These reasonings have no logical connection: “I am richer
than you, therefore I am your superior.” “I am more eloquent
than you, therefore I am your superior.” The true
logical connection is rather this: “I am richer than you,
therefore my possessions must exceed yours.” “I am more eloquent
than you, therefore my style must surpass yours.” But
you, after all, consist neither in property nor in style.
Does anyone bathe hastily? Do not say that he does it ill,
but hastily. Does anyone drink much wine? Do not say that he
does ill, but that he drinks a great deal. For unless you perfectly
understand his motives, how should you know if he
acts ill? Thus you will not risk yielding to any appearances
but such as you fully comprehend.
Never proclaim yourself a philosopher, nor make much
talk among the ignorant about your principles, but show
them by actions. Thus, at an entertainment, do not discourse
how people ought to eat, but eat as you ought. For remember
that thus Socrates also universally avoided all ostentation.
And when persons came to him and desired to be introduced
by him to philosophers, he took them and introduced them;
so well did he bear being overlooked. So if ever there should
be among the ignorant any discussion of principles, be for
the most part silent. For there is great danger in hastily
throwing out what is undigested. And if anyone tells you
that you know nothing, and you are not nettled at it, then
you may be sure that you have really entered on your work.
For sheep do not hastily throw up the grass to show the shepherds
how much they have eaten, but, inwardly digesting
their food, they produce it outwardly in wool and milk. Thus,
therefore, do you not make an exhibition before the ignorant
of your principles, but of the actions to which their digestion
gives rise.
When you have learned to nourish your body frugally, do
not pique yourself upon it; nor, if you drink water, be saying
upon every occasion, “I drink water.” But first consider how
much more frugal are the poor than we, and how much more
patient of hardship. If at any time you would inure yourself
by exercise to labor and privation, for your own sake and not
for the public, do not attempt great feats; but when you are
violently thirsty, just rinse your mouth with water, and tell
nobody.
The condition and characteristic of a vulgar person is that
he never looks for either help or harm from himself, but only
from externals. The condition and characteristic of a philosopher
is that he looks to himself for all help or harm. The
marks of a proficient are that he censures no one, praises no
one, blames no one, accuses no one; says nothing concerning
himself as being anybody or knowing anything. When he is
in any instance hindered or restrained, he accuses himself;
and if he is praised, he smiles to himself at the person who
praises him; and if he is censured, he makes no defense. But
he goes about with the caution of a convalescent, careful of
interference with anything that is doing well but not yet
quite secure. He restrains desire; he transfers his aversion to
those things only which thwart the proper use of our own
will; he employs his energies moderately in all directions; if
he appears stupid or ignorant, he does not care; and, in a
word, he keeps watch over himself as over an enemy and one
in ambush.
When anyone shows himself vain on being able to understand
and interpret the works of Chrysippus,[7]
say to yourself:
“Unless Chrysippus had written obscurely, this person
would have had nothing to be vain of. But what do I desire?
To understand nature, and follow her. I ask, then, who interprets
her; and hearing that Chrysippus does, I have recourse
to him. I do not understand his writings. I seek, therefore,
one to interpret them.” So far there is nothing to value myself
upon. And when I find an interpreter, what remains is
to make use of his instructions. This alone is the valuable
thing. But if I admire merely the interpretation, what do I
become more than a grammarian, instead of a philosopher,
except, indeed, that instead of Homer I interpret Chrysippus?
When anyone, therefore, desires me to read Chrysippus to
him, I rather blush when I cannot exhibit actions that are
harmonious and consonant with his discourse.
Whatever rules you have adopted, abide by them as laws,
and as if you would be impious to transgress them; and do
not regard what anyone says of you, for this, after all, is no
concern of yours. How long, then, will you delay to demand
of yourself the noblest improvements, and in no instance to
transgress the judgments of reason? You have received the
philosophic principles with which you ought to be conversant;
and you have been conversant with them. For what other
master, then, do you wait as an excuse for this delay in self-reformation?
You are no longer a boy but a grown man. If,
therefore, you will be negligent and slothful, and always add
procrastination to procrastination, purpose to purpose, and
fix day after day in which you will attend to yourself, you
will insensibly continue to accomplish nothing and, living
and dying, remain of vulgar mind. This instant, then, think
yourself worthy of living as a man grown up and a proficient.
Let whatever appears to be the best be to you an inviolable
law. And if any instance of pain or pleasure, glory or disgrace,
be set before you, remember that now is the combat, now the
Olympiad comes on, nor can it be put off; and that by one
failure and defeat honor may be lost or—won. Thus Socrates
became perfect, improving himself by everything, following
reason alone. And though you are not yet a Socrates, you
ought, however, to live as one seeking to be a Socrates.
The first and most necessary topic in philosophy is the
practical application of principles, as, We ought not to lie;
the second is that of demonstrations as, Why it is that we
ought not to lie; the third, that which gives strength and
logical connection to the other two, as, Why this is a demonstration.
For what is demonstration? What is a consequence?
What a contradiction? What truth? What falsehood? The
third point is then necessary on account of the second; and
the second on account of the first. But the most necessary,
and that whereon we ought to rest, is the first. But we do
just the contrary. For we spend all our time on the third
point and employ all our diligence about that, and entirely
neglect the first. Therefore, at the same time that we lie, we
are very ready to show how it is demonstrated that lying is
wrong.
Upon all occasions we ought to have these maxims ready at hand:
Conduct me, Zeus, and thou, O Destiny,
Wherever your decrees have fixed my lot.
I follow cheerfully; and, did I not,
Wicked and wretched, I must follow still.[8]
Who’er yields properly to Fate is deemed
Wise among men, and knows the laws of Heaven.[9]
And this third:
“O Crito, if it thus pleases the gods, thus let it be.”[10]
“Anytus and Melitus may kill me indeed; but hurt me they cannot.”[11]
[1]
Happiness, the effect of virtue, is the mark which God has set up for us to aim
at. Our missing it is no work of His; nor so properly anything real, as a mere
negative and failure of our own.
[2]
Chapter XV of the third book of the Discourses, which, with the
exception of some very trifling differences, is the same as chapter XXIX of the
Enchiridion.—Ed.
[3]
Euphrates was a philosopher of Syria, whose character is described, with the
highest encomiums, by Pliny the Younger, Letters I. 10.
[4]
The two inimical sons of Oedipus, who killed each other in battle.—Ed.
[5]
This refers to an anecdote given in full by Simplicius, in his commentary on
this passage, of a man assaulted and killed on his way to consult the oracle,
while his companion, deserting him, took refuge in the temple till cast out by
the Deity.—Tr.
[6]
Reference is to Zeno of Cyprus (335-263 B.C.), the
founder of the Stoic school.—Ed.
[7]
Chrysippus (c. 280-207 B.C.) was a Stoic
philosopher who became head of the Stoa after Cleanthes. His works, which are
lost, were most influential and were generally accepted as the authoritative
interpretation of orthodox Stoic philosophy.—Ed.
[8]
Cleanthes, in Diogenes Laertius, quoted also by Seneca, Epistle 107.
[9]
Euripides, Fragments.
[10]
Plato, Crito, Chap. XVII.
[11]
Plato, Apology, Chap. XVIII.
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