Bot-S: Lucretius, Epictetus, Aurelius

When the Roman asked him to go
on, Epictetus said: Every art, when it is
taught, causes labour to him who is unac-
quainted with it and is unskilled in it, and in-
deed the things which proceed from the arts
immediately show their use in the purpose for
which they were made; and most of them con-
tain something attractive and pleasing. For in-
deed to be present and to observe how a shoe-
maker learns is not a pleasant thing; but the
shoe is^useful and also not disagreeable to look
at. And the discipline of a smith when he is
learning is very disagreeable to one who
chances to be present and is a stranger to the
art: but the work shows the use of the art.
But you will see this much more in music; for
if you are present while a person is learning,
the discipline will appear most disagreeable;
and yet the results of music are pleasing and
delightful to those who know nothing of
music. And here we conceive the work of a
philosopher to be something of this kind: he
must adapt his wish to what is going on, so
that neither any of the things which are tak-
ing place shall take place contrary to our wish,
nor any of the things which do not take place
shall not take place when we wish that they
should. From this the result is to those who
have so arranged the work of philosophy, not
to fail in the desire, nor to fall in with that
which they would avoid; without uneasiness,
without fear, without perturbation to pass
through life themselves, together with their as-
sociates maintaining the relations both natural
and acquired/ as the relation of son, of father,
of brother, of citizen, of man, of wife, of
neighbour, of fellow-traveler, of ruler, of
ruled. The work of a philosopher we conceive
to be something like this. It remains next to
inquire how this must be accomplished.

We see then that the carpenter when he has
learned certain things becomes a carpenter;
the pilot by learning certain things becomes a
pilot. May it not, then, in philosophy also not
be sufficient to wish to be wise and good, and
that there is also a necessity to learn certain
things? We inquire then what these things
are. The philosophers say that we ought first

^Compare iiL 2; iv. 8; Marcus Aurelius, viIl 27.

vides for all things; also that it is not possible
to conceal from him our acts, or even our in-
tentions and thoughts.® The next thing is to
learn what is the nature of the Gods; for such
as they are discovered to be, he, who would
please and obey them, must try with all his
power to be like them. If the divine is faithful,
man also must be faithful; if it is free, man
also must be free; if beneficent, man also must
be beneficent; if magnanimous, man also must
be magnanimous; as being then an imitator of
God, he must do and say everything con-
sistently with this fact.

“With what then must we begin?” If you
will enter on the discussion, I will tell you that
you must first understand names.® “So, then,
you say that I do not now understand names?”
You do not understand them. “How, then, do
I use them?” Just as the illiterate use written
language, as cattle use appearances: for use is
one thing, understanding is another. But if
you think that you understand them, produce
whatever word you please, and let us try
whether we understand it. But it is a disagree-
able thing for a man to be confuted who is
now old and, it may be, has now served his
three campaigns. I too know this: for now you
are come to me as if you were%i want of noth-
ing: and what could you even imagine to be
wanting to you? You arc rich, you have chil-
dren, and a wife, perhaps, and many slaves:
Cxsar knows you, in Rome you have many
friends, you render their dues to all, you know
how to requite him who does you a favour, and
to repay in the same kind him who does you
a wrong. What do you lack? If, then, I shall
show you that you lack the things most neces-
sary and the chief things for happiness, and
that hitherto you have looked after everything
rather than what you ought, and, to crown all,
that you neither know what God is nor what
man is, nor what is good nor what is bad; and
as to what I have said about your ignorance
of other matters, that may perhaps be endured,
but if I say that you know nothing about your-
self, how is it possible that you should endure

*Scc i. 14; ii. 8. Marcus Aurelius, x. 8. Also Epic-
tetus, i. 16 : iii. 17.

®Sce i. 17; ii. 10, 11; Marcus Aurelius, x. 8.

DISCOURSES, BOOK II

me and bear the proof and stay here? It is not
possible; but you immediately go off in bad
humour. And yet what harm have I done you?
unless the mirror also injures the ugly man be-
cause it shows him to himself such as he is;
unless the physician also is supposed to insult
the sick man, when he says to him, “Man, do
you think that you ail nothing? But you have
a fever: go without food to-day; drink water.”
And no one says, “What an insult!” But if you
say to a man, “Your desires are inflamed, your
aversions are low, your intentions are incon-
sistent, your pursuits are not conformable to
nature, your opinions are rash and false,” the
man immediately goes away and says, “He
has insulted me.”

Our way of dealing is like that of a crowded
assembly. Beasts are brought to be sold and
oxen; and the greater part of the men come to
buy and sell, and there are some few who
come to look at the market and to inquire
how it is carried on, and why, and who fixes
the meeting and for what purpose. So it is here
also in this assembly: some like cattle trouble
themselves about nothing except their fodder.
For to all of you who are busy about posses-
sions and lands and slaves and magisterial of-
fices, these arc nothing except fodder. But
there are a few who attend the assembly, men
who love to look on and consider what is the
world, who governs it. Has it no governor?
And how is it possible that a city or a family
cannot continue to exist, not even the shortest
time without an administrator and guardian,
and that so great and beautiful a system should
be administered with such order and yet with-
out a purpose and by chance? There is then
an administrator. What kind of administrator
and how does he govern? And who arc we,
who were produced by him, and for what
purpose? Have we some connection with him
and some relation toward him, or none? This
is the way in which these few are affected,
and then they apply themselves only to this
one thing, to examine the meeting and then to
go away. What then? They are ridiculed by
the many, as the spectators at the fair are by
the traders; and if the beasts had any under-
standing, they would ridicule those who ad-
mired anything else than fodder.

Chapter 15. To or against those who obstin-
ately persist in what they have determined
When some persons have heard these words,
that a man ought to be constant, and that the
will is naturally free and not subject to com-
pulsion, but that all other things are subject
to hindrance, to slavery, and arc in the power
of others, they suppose that they ought with-
out deviation to abide by everything which
they have determined. But in the first place
that which has been determined ought to be
sound. I require tone in the body, but such as
exists in a healthy body, in an athletic body;
but if it is plain to me that you have the tone
of a frenzied man and you boast of it, I shall
say to you, “Man, seek the physician”: this is
not tone, but atony. In a different way some-
thing of the same kind is felt by those who
listen to these discourses in a wrong manner;
which was the case with one of my compan-
ions who for no reason resolved to starve him-
self to death. I heard of it when it was the
third day of his abstinence from food and I
went to inquire what had happened. “I have
resolved,” he said. But still tell me what it was
which induced you to resolve; for if you have
resolved rightly, we shall sit with you and as-
sist you to depart; but if you have made an un-
reasonable resolution, change your mind. “We
ought to keep to our determinations.” What
are you doing, man? We ought to keep not to
all our determinations, but to those which arc
right; for if you are now persuaded that it is
right, do not change your mind, if you think
fit, but persist and say, “We ought to abide by
our determinations.” Will you not make the
beginning and lay the foundation in an in-
quiry whether the determination is sound or
not sound, and so then build on it firmness
and security? But if you lay a rotten and ruin-
ous foundation, will not your miserable litde
building fall down the sooner, the more and
the stronger are the materials which you shall
lay on it? Without any reason would you with-
draw, from us out of life a man who is a
friend, and a companion, a citizen of the same
city, both the great and the small city? Then,
while you arc committing murder and de-
stroying a man who has c^e no wrong, do
you say that you ought to aoide by your deter-

156 EPICTETUS

minadons? And if it ever in any way came
into your head to kill me, ought you to abide
by your determinations?

Now this man was with difficulty persuaded
to change his mind. But it is impossible to
convince some persons at present; so that I
seem now to know^ what I did not know be-
fore, the meaning of the common saying,
**That you can neither persuade nor break a
fool,”^ May it never be my lot to have a wise
fool for my friend: nothing is more untract>
able. am determined/* the man says. Mad-
men are also; but the more firmly they form
a judgment on things which do not exist, the
more ellebore they require. Will you not act
like a sick man and call in the physician? '"I
am sick, master, help me; consider what I
must do: it is my duty to obey you.” So it is
here also: “I know not what I ought to do,
but I am come to learn.” Not so; but, “Speak
to me about other things: upon this I have de-
termined.” What other things? for what is
greater and more useful than for you to be
persuaded that it is not sufficient to have made
your determination and not to change it. This
is the tone of madness, not of health. “I will
die, if you compel me to this.” Why, man?
What has happened? “I have determined,”.!
have had a lucky escape that you have not de-
termined to kill me. “I take no money.’* Why?
“I have determined.” Be assured that with the
very tone which you now use in refusing to
take, there is nothing to hinder you at some
time from inclining without reason to take
money and then saying, “I have determined.”
As in a distempered body, subject to deflux-
ions, the humor inclines sometimes to these
parts and then to those, so too a sickly soul
knows not which way to incline: but if to this
inclination and movement there is added a
tone, then the evil becomes past help and cure.

Chapter i6. That we do not strive to use our
opinions about good and evil
Wherb is the good? In the will.^ Where is the
evil? In the will. Where is neither of them?
In those things which arc independent of the
will. Well then? Docs any one among us think
of these lessons out of the schools? Does any
one meditate by himself to give an answer to
* Pfov. 27. 22. • See ii. 10.

things as in the case of questions? Is it day?
“Yes.” Is it night? “No,” Well, is the numl^r
of stars even? “I cannot say.” When money
is shown to you, have you studied to make the
proper answer, that money is not a good
thing? Have you practiced yourself in these
answers, or only against sophisms? Why do
you wonder then if in the cases which you
have studied, in those you have improved; but
in those which you have not studied, in those
you remain the same? When the rhetorician
knows that he has written well, that he has
committed to memory what he has written,
and brings an agreeable voice, why is he still
anxious? Because he is not satisfied with hav-
ing studied. What then does he want? To be
praised by the audience? For the purpose,
then, of being able to practice declamation, he
has been disciplined: but with respect to praise
and blame he has not been disciplined. For
when did he hear from any one what praise
is, what blame is, what the nature of each is,
what kind of praise should be sought, or what
kind of blame should be shunned? And when
did he practice this discipline which follows
these words? Why then do you still wonder if,
in the matters which a man has learned, there
he surpasses others, and in those in which he
has not been disciplined, then? he is the same
with the many. So the lute player knows how
to play, sings well, and has a fine dress, and
yet he trembles when he enters on the stage;
for these matters he understands, but he does
not know what a crowd is, nor the shouts of
a crowd, nor what ridicule is. Neither does he
know what anxiety is, whether it is our work
or the work of another, whether it is possible
to stop it or not. For this reason, if he has been
praised, he leaves the theatre puffed up, but if
he has been ridiculed, the swollen bladder has
been punctured and subsides.

This is the case also with oi|rselves. What
do we admire? Externals. Abotjtt what things
arc we busy? Externals. And;. have wc any
doubt then why we fear or wl|y wc arc anx-
ious? What, then, happens whcfi we think the
things which are coming on usto be evils? It
is not in our power not to be afraid, it is not
in our power not to be anxious. Then we say,
“Lord God, how shall I not be anxious?” Fool,
you not hands, did not God make them

DISCOURSES, BOOK II

for you? Sit down now and pray that your
nose may not run. Wipe yourself rather and
do not blame him. Well then, has he given to
you nothing in the present case? Has he not
given to you endurance? has he not given to
you magnanimity? has he not given to you
manliness? When you have such hands, do
you still look for one who shall wipe your
nose? But we neither study these things nor
care for them. Give me a man who cares how
he shall do anything, not for the obtaining of
a thing, but who cares about his own energy.
What man, when he is walking about, cares
for his own energy? who, when he is delib-
erating, cares about his own deliberation, and
not about obtaining that about which he de-
liberates ? And if he succeeds, he is elated and
says, “How well we have deliberated; did I
not tell you, brother, that it is impossible,
when we have thought about anything, that
it should not turn out thus?” But if the thing
should turn out otherwise, the wretched man
is humbled; he knows not even what to say
about what has taken place. Who among us
for the sake of this matter has consulted a
seer? Who among us as to his actions has not
slept in indifference? W^ho? Give to me one
that I may see the man whom 1 have long been
looking for, who is truly noble and ingenuous,
whether young or old; name him.

Why then arc we still surprised, if we arc
well practiced in thinking about matters, but
in our acts arc low, without decency, worth-
less, cowardly, impatient of labour, altogether
bad? For we do not care about things, nor do
we study them. But if we had feared not death
or banishment, but fear itself,^ we should have
studied not to fall into those things which ap-
pear to us evils. Now in the school we are ir-
ritable and wordy; and if any little question
arises about any of these things, we are able
to examine them fully. But drag us to practice,
and you will find us miserably shipwrecked.
Let some disturbing appearance come on us,
and you will know what we have been study-
ing and in what we have been exercising our-
selves. Consequently, through want of dis-
cipline, we are always adding something to
the appearance and representing things to be
greater than what they are. For instance as to
^ See ii. z.

myself, when I am on a voyage and look down
on the deep sea, or look round on it and see
no land, I am out of my mind and imagine
that 1 must drink up all this water if I am
wrecked, and it does not occur to me that three
pints arc enough. What then disturbs me?
The sea? No, but my opinion. Again, when
an earthquake shall happen, I imagine that
the city is going to fall on me; but is not one
little stone enough to knock my brains out?

What then are the things which are heavy
on us and disturb us? What else than opin-
ions ? What else than opinions lies heavy upon
him who goes away and leaves his companions
and friends and places and habits of life? Now
little children, for instance, when they cry on
the nurse leaving them for a short time, for-
get their sorrow if they receive a small cake.
Do you choose then that we should compare
you to little children? No, by Zeus, for I do
not wish to be pacified by a small cake, but by
right opinions. And what are these? Such as
a man ought to study all day, and not to be
affected by anything that is not his own,
neither by companion nor place nor gymnasia,
and not even by his own body, but to remem-
ber the law and to have it before his eyes. And
what is the divine law? To keep a man’s own,
not to claim that which belongs to others, but
to use what is given, and when it is not given,
not to desire it; and when a thing is taken
away, to give it up readily and immediately,
and to be thankful for the time that a man has
had the use of it, if you would not cry for your
nurse and mamma. For what matter does it
make by what thing a man is subdued, and on
what he depends? In what respect arc you
better than he who cries for a girl, if you grieve
for a little gymnasium, and little porticoes and
young men and such places of amusement?
Another comes and laments that he shall no
longer drink the water of Dirce. Is the Marcian
water worse than that of Dirce? “But I was
used to the water of Dircc.”^ And you in turn
will be used to the other. Then if you become
attached to this also, cry for this too, and try
to make a verse like the verse of Euripides,

The hot baths of Nero and the Marcian water.
See how tragedy is made w^n conunon things
happen to silly men.

* Euripides, Heracles Mad, 573.

158 EPICTETUS

**When then shall I sec Athens again and
the Acropolis?” Wretch, arc you not content
with what you sec daily? have you anything
better or greater to see than the sun, the moon,
the stars, the whole earth, the sea? But if in-
deed you comprehend him who administers
the Whole, and carry him about in yourself,
do you still desire small stones, and a beauti-
ful rock? When, then, you are going to leave
the sun itself and the moon, what will you do?
will you sit and weep like children? Well,
what have you been doing in the school ? what
did you hear, what did you learn? why did
you write yourself a philosopher, when you
might have written the truth; as, “I made cer-
tain introductions, and I read Chrysippus, but
I did not even approach the door of a philos-
opher.” For how should I possess anything of
the kind which Socrates possessed, who died
as he did, who lived as he did, or anything
such as Diogenes possessed? Do you think that
any one of such men wept or grieved, because
he was not going to see a certain man, or a
certain woman, nor to be in Athens or in Cor-
inth, but, if it should so happen, in Susa or in
Ecbatana ? For if a man can quit the banquet
when he chooses, and no longer amuse him-
self, docs he still stay and complain, and does
he not stay, as at any amusement, only so long
as he is pleased? Such a man, I suppose, would
endure perpetual exile or tp be condemned' to
death. Will you not be weaned now, like chil-
dren, and take more solid food, and not cry
after mammas and nurses, which are the lam-
entations of old women ? “But if I go away, I
shall cause them sorrow.” You cause them sor-
row? By no means; but that will cause them
sorrow which also causes you sorrow, opinion.
What have you to do then? Take away your
own opinion, and if these women are wise,
they will take away their own: if they do not,
they will lament through their own fault.

My man, as the proverb says, make a des-
perate effort on behalf of tranquillity of mind,
freedom and magnanimity. Lift up your head
at last as released from slavery. Dare to look
up to God and say, “Deal with me for the fu-
ture as thou wilt; I am of the same mind as
thou art; I am thine: I refuse nothing that
pleases thee: lead me where thou wilt: clothe
me in any dress thou choosest: is it thy will

that I should hold the office of a magistrate,
that I should be in the condition of a private
man, stay here or be an exile, be poor, be rich?
I will make thy defense to men in behalf of
all these conditions.^ I will show the nature of
each thing what it is.” You will not do so; but
sit in an ox’s belly, and wait for your mamma
till she shall feed you. Who would Hercules
have been, if he had sat at home? He would
have been Eurystheus and not Hercules. Well,
and in his travels through the world how
many intimates and how many friends had
he? But nothing more dear to him than God.
For this reason it was believed that he was the
son of God, and he was. In obedience to God,
then, he went about purging away injustice
and lawlessness. But you are not Hercules and
you arc not able to purge away the wicked-
ness of others; nor yet are you Theseus, able
to purge away the evil things of Attica. Clear
away your own. From yourself, from your
thoughts cast away, instead of Procrustes and
Sciron,^ sadness, fear, desire, envy, malevo-
lence, avarice, elleminacy, intemperance. But
it is not [X)ssible to eject these things other-
wise than by looking to God only, by fixing
your aflections on him only, by being conse-
crated to his commands. But if you choose
anything else, you will with Stghs and groans
be compelled to follow® what is stronger than
yourself, always seeking tranquillity and never
able to find it; for you seek tranquillity there
where it is not, and you neglect to seek it
where it is.

Chapter 17. Hou/ we must adapt preconcep-
tions to particular cases
What is the first business of him who philos-
ophizes? To throw away self-conceit.^ For it
is impossible for a man to begin to learn that
which he thinks that he knows. As to things
then which ought to be done and ought not to
be done, and good and bad, and beautiful and
ugly, all of us talking of them at random go
to the philosophers; and on these matters we
praise, we censure, we accuse, we blame, we
judge and determine about principles hon-

^ See Acts, 20. 23, 24; Rom. 5. 3; S. 38-39; II Tim.
4. 6.

* Plutarch, Lives, Theseus.

* Marcus Aurelius, x. 28.

^ See ii. 11, and iii. 14.

DISCOURSES, BOOK II

ourable and dishonourable. But why do we go
to the philosophers? Because we wish to learn
what we do not think that we know. And
what is this? Theorems. For wc wish to learn
what philosophers say as being something ele-
gant and acute; and some wish to learn that
they may get profit from what they learn. It
is ridiculous then to think that a person wishes
to learn one thing, and will learn another; or
further, that a man will make proficiency in
that which he does not learn. But the many
are deceived by this which deceived also the
rhetorician Theopompus, when he blames
even Plato for wishing everything to be de-
fined. For what docs he say? “Did none of us
before youmse the words ‘good* or ‘just,’ or do
we utter the sounds in an unmeaning and
empty way without understanding what they
severally signify?” Now who tells you, Thco-
pompus, that we had not natural notions of
each of these things and preconceptions? But
it is not possible ♦o adapt preconceptions to
their correspondent objects if wc have not dis-
tinguished them, and inquired what object
must be subjected to each preconception. You
may make the same charge against physician^
also. For who among us did not use the words
“healthy” and “unhealthy” before Hippo-
crates lived, or did v.c utter these words as
empty sounds? For wc have also a certain pre-
conception of health, but we arc not able to
atlapt it. For this reason one says, “Abstain
from food”; another says, “Give food”; an-
other says, “Bleed”; and another says, “Use
cupping.” What is the reason? is it any other
than that a man cannot proptTly adapt the pre-
conception of health to particulars?

So it is in this matter also, in the things
which concern life. Who among us docs not
speak of good and bad, of useful and not use-
ful; for who among us has not a preconcep-
tion of each of these things? Is it then a dis-
tinct and perfect preconception? Show this.
How shall I show this? Adapt the preconcep-
tion properly to the particular things. Plato,
for instance, subjects definitions to the precon-
ception of the useful, but you to the precon-
ception of the useless. Is it possible then that
both of you are right? How is it possible?
Does not one man adapt the preconception of
good to the matter of wealth, and another not

to wealth, but to the matter of pleasure and to
that of health? For, generally, if all of us who
use those words know sufficiently each of
them, and need no diligence in resolving the
notions of the preconceptions, why do we dif-
fer, why do we quarrel, why do wc blame one
another?

And why do I now allege this contention
with one another and speak of it? If you your-
self properly adapt your preconceptions, why
are you unhappy, why are you hindered? Let
us omit at present the second topic about the
pursuits and the study of the duties which re-
late to them. Let us omit also the third topic,
which relates to the assents: I give up to you
these two topics. Let us insist upon the first,
which presents an almost obvious demonstra-
tion that we do not properly adapt the precon-
ceptions.* Do you now desire that which is
possible and that which is possible to you?
Why then are you hindered? why are you un-
happy? Do you not now try to avoid the un-
avoidable? Why then do you fall in with any-
thing which you would avoid? Why are you
unfortunate? Why, when you desire a thing,
does it not happen, and, when you do not de-
sire it, does it happen? For this is the greatest
proof of unhappiness and misery: “I wish for
something, and it does not happen.” And what
is more wretched than I?*

It was because she could not endure this
that Medea came to murder her children: an
act of a noble spirit in this view at least, for
she had a just opinion what it is for a thing
not to succeed which a person wishes. Then
she says, “Thus I shall be avenged on him who
has wronged and insulted me; and what shall
I gain if he is punished thus? how then shall
it be done? I shall kill my children, but I shall
punish myself also: and what do I care?”*
This is the aberration of soul which possesses
great energy. For she did not know wherein
lies the doing of that which we wish; that you
cannot get this from without, nor yet by the
alteration and new adaptation of things. Do
not desire the man, and nothing wdiich you de-
sire will fail to happen: do not obstinately de-
sire that he shall live with you: do not desire

^ Sec. iii. 2.

• Compare i. 27.

* Kuripiflcs, Medea, Epictetus docs not give the words
of the poet.

ifo EPICTETUS

to remain in Corinth; and» in a word» desire
nothing than that which God wills. And who
shall hinder you? who shall compel you? No
man shall compel you any more than he shall
compel Zeus.

When you have such a guidc,^ and your
wishes and desires are the same as his, why do
you still fear disappointment? Give up your
desire to wealth and your aversion to poverty,
and you will be disappointed in the one, you
will fall into the other. Well, give them up to
health, and you will be unfortunate: give them
up to magistracies, honours, country, friends,
children, in a word to any of the things which
arc not in man’s power. But give them up to
Zeus and to the rest of the gods; surrender
them to the gods, let the gods govern, let your
desire and aversion be ranged on the side of
the gods, and wherein will you be any longer
unhappy? But if, lazy wretch, you envy, and
complain, and are jealous, and fear, and never
cease for a single day complaining both of
yourself and of the gods, why do you still
speak of being educated? What kind of an
education, man? Do you mean that you have
been employed about sophistical syllogisms?^
Will you not, if it is possible, unlearn all these
things and begin from the beginning, and
see at the same time that hitherto you have
not even touched the matter; and then, com-
mencing from this foundation, will you hot
build up all that comes after, so that nothing
may happen which you do not choose, and
nothing shall fail to happen which you do
choose?

Give me one young man who has come to
the school with this intention, who is become
a champion for this matter and says, give
up everything else, and it is enough for me if
it shall ever be in my power to pass my life free
from hindrance and free from trouble, and to
stretch out my neck to all things like a free
man, and to look up to heaven as a &iend of
God, and fear nothing that can happen.” Let
any of you point out such a man that I may
say, **Come, young man, into the possession of
that which is your own, for it is your destiny
to adorn philosophy: yours are these posses-
sions, yours these books, yours these dis-

’ Compare iv. 7.

*Scci.7.

courses.” Then when he shall have laboured
sufficiently and exercised himself in this part
of the matter, let him come to me again and
say, desire to be free from passion and free
from perturbation; and I wish as a pious man
and a philosopher and a diligent person to
know what is my duty to the gods, what to
my parents, what to my brothers, what to my
country, what to strangers.” Come also to the
second matter: this also is yours. '*But I have
now sufficiently studied the second part also,
and I would gladly be secure and unshaken,
and not only when I am awake, but also when
I am asleep, and when I am filled with wine,
and when I am melancholy.” Man, you are a
god, you have great designs. '

“No: but I wish to understand what Chrysip-
pus says in his treatise of the Pseudomenos/*
Will you not hang yourself, wretch, with such
your intention? And what good will it do
you? You will read the whole with sorrow,
and you will speak to others trembling. Thus
you also do. “Do you wish me, brother, to
read to you, and you to me?” “You write ex-
cellently, my man; and you also excellently in
the style of Xenophon, and you in the style of
Plato, and you in the style of Antisthencs.”
Then, having told your dreams to one an-
other, you return to the samcYhings: your de-
sires arc the same, your aversions the same,
your pursuits arc the same, and your designs
and purposes, you wish for the same things
and work for the same. In the next place you
do not even seek for one to give you advice,
but you are vexed if you hear such things.
Then you say, “An ill-natured old fellow:
when I was going away, he did not weep nor
did he say, ‘Into what danger you are going:
if you come off safe, my child, I will burn
lights.’® This is what a good-natured man
would do.” It will be a great thing for you if
you do return safe, and it will he worth while
to burn lights for such a person: for you ought
to be immortal and exempt froiti disease.

Casting away then, as I say, this conceit of
thinking that we know something useful, we
must come to philosophy as we apply to geom-
etry, and to music: but if we do not, we shall
not even approach to proficiency, though we
read all the collections and commentaries of
* Compare i. 19,

DISCOURSES, BOOK II i6i

Chrysippus and those of Antipater and Archc-
demus.'

Chapter i8. How we should struggle against

appearances

Every habit and faculty* is maintained and
increased by the corresponding actions: the
habit of walking by walking, the habit of run-
ning by running. If you would be a good read-
er, read; if a writer, write. But when you shall
not have read for thirty days in succession, but
have done something else, you will know the
consequence. In the same way, if you shall
have lain down ten days, get up and attempt
to make a long walk, and you will see how
your legs are weakened. Generally, then, if
you would make anything a habit, do it; if you
would not make it a habit, do not do it, but
accustom yourself to do something else in
place of it.

So it is with respect to the affections of the
soul: when you have been angry, you must
know that not only has this evil befallen you,
but that you have also increased the habit, and
in a manner thrown fuel upon fire. When you
have been overcome in sexual intercourse with
a person, do not reckon this single defeat only,
but reckon that you have also nurtured, in-
creased your incontinence. For it is impossible
for habits and faculties, some of them not to
be produced, when they did not exist before,
and others not be increased and strengthened
by corrcs[X)nding acts.

In this manner certainly, as philosophers
say, also diseases of the mind grow up. For
when you have once desired money, if reason
be applied to lead to a perception of the evil,
the desire is stopped, and the ruling faculty of
our mind is restored to the original authority.
But if you apply no means of cure, it no longer
returns to the same state, but, being again ex-
cited by the corresponding appearance, it is in-
flamed to desire quicker than before: and
when this takes place continually, it is hence-
forth hardened, and the disease of the mind
confirms the love of money. For he who has
had a fever, and has been relieved from it, is
not in the same state that he was before, un-
less he has been completely cured. Something

^ Archedemus, see ii. 4; Antipatet, ii. 19.

* See iv. 12.

of the kind happens also in diseases of the
soul. Certain traces and blisters arc left in it,
and unless a man shall completely efface them,
when he is again lashed on the same places,
the lash will produce not blisters but sores. If
then you wish not to be of an angry temper, do
not feed the habit: throw nothing on it which
will increase it: at first keep quiet, and count
the days on which you have not been angry. I
used to be in passion every day; now every
second day; then every third, then every
fourth. But if you have intermitted thirty days,
make a sacrifice to God. For the habit at first
begins to be weakened, and then is completely
destroyed. “I have not been vexed to-day, nor
the day after, nor yet on any succeeding day
during two or three months; but I took care
when some exciting things happened.” Be as-
sured that you arc in a good way. To-day
when I saw a handsome person, I did not say
to myself, “I wish I could lie with her,” and
“Happy is her husband”; for he who says this
says, “Happy is her adulterer also.” Nor do I
picture the rest to my mind; the woman pres-
ent, and stripping herself and lying down by
my side. I stroke my head and say, “Well
done, Epictetus, you have solved a fine little
sophism, much finer than that which is called
the master sophism.” And if even the woman is
willing, and gives signs, and sends messages,
and if she also fondle me and come close to
me, and 1 should abstain and be victorious,
that would be a sophism beyond that which is
named “The Liar,” and “The Quiescent.”
Over such a victory as this a man may justly be
proud; not for proposing the master sophism.

How then shall this he done.? Be willing at
length to be approved by yourself, be willing
to appear beautiful to God, desire to be in
purity with your own pure self and with God.
Then when any such appearance visits you,
Plato says, “Have recourse to expiations, go a
suppliant to the temples of the averting de-
ities.”^ It is even sufficient if “you resort to the
society of noble and just men,” and compare
yourself with them, whether you find one who
is living or dead. Go to Socrates and see him
lying down with Alcibiadcs, and mocking his
beauty: consider what a^ctory he at last
found that he had gained over himself; what
* Plato, Imws, ix. 854. Compare Malt. 6. 29.

i6a EPICTETUS

an Olympian victory; in what number he
stood from Hercules; so that, by the Gods, one
may justly salute him, “Hail, wondrous man,
you who have conquered not less these sorry
boxers and pancratiasts, nor yet those who are
like them, the gladiators.” By placing these
objects on the other side you will conquer the
appearance: you will not be drawn away by it.
But, in the first place, be not hurried away by
the rapidity of the appearance, but say, “Ap-
pearances, wait for me a little: let me see who
you are, and what you are about let me put
you to the test.” And then do not allow the
appearance to lead you on and draw lively pic-
tures of the things which will follow; for if
you do, it will carry you off wherever it
pleases. But rather bring in to oppose it some
other beautiful and noble appearance and cast
out this base appearance. And if you are ac-
customed to be exercised in this way, you will
see what shoulders, what sinews, what strength
you have. But now it is only trifling words,
and nothing more.

This is the true athlete, the man who exer-
cises himself against such appearances. Stay,
wretch, do not be carried away. Great is the
combat, divine is the work; it is for kingship,
for freedom, for happiness, for freedom from
perturbation. Remember God: call on him as
a helper and protector, as men at sea call on
the Dioscuri in a storm. For w^hat is a greater
storm than that which corpes from appear-
ances which arc violent and drive away the
reason? For the storm itself, what else is it but
an appearance? For take away the fear of
death, and suppose as many thunders and
lightnings as you please, and you will know
what calm^ and serenity there is in the ruling
faculty. But if you have once been defeated
and say that you will conquer hereafter, and
then say the same again, be assured that you
will at last be in so wretched a condition and
so weak that you will not even know after-
ward that you are doing wrong, but you will
even begin to make apologies for your wrong-
doing, and then you will confirm the saying
of Hesiod to be true,

constant ills the dilatory strives!*

^Compare iii. 12.

^Marcus Aurelius, xii. 22.

Chapter 19, Against those who embrace
philosophical opinions only in words
The argument called the “ruling argument”
appears to have been proposed from such prin-
ciples as these: there is in fact a common con-
tradiction between one another in these three
positions, each two being in contradiction to
the third. The propositions arc, that every-
thing past must of necessity be true; that an
impossibility docs not follow a possibility; and
that a thing is possible which neither is nor
will be true. Diodorus observing this contra-
diction employed the probative force of the
first two for the demonstration of this proi>
osition, “That nothing is f>ossible which is not
true and never will be.” Now another will
hold these two: “That something is possible,
which is neither true nor ever wiW be”: and
“That an impossibility docs not follow a pos-
sibility.” But he will not allow that everything
which is past is necessarily true, as the follow-
ers of Cleanthes seem to think, and Antipater
copiously defended them. But others maintain
the other two propositions, “I’hat a thing is
possible which is neither true nor will be true”:
and “That everything which is past is neces-
sarily true”; but then they will maintain that
an impossibility can follow a possibility. But it
is impossible to maintain the'^b three pro[X)si-
tions, because of their common contradiction.

If then any man should ask me which of
these propositions do I maintain? I will an-
swer him that I do not know^; but I have re-
ceived this story, that Diodorus maintained
one opinion, the followers of Panihoidcs, I
think, and Cleanthes maintained another opin-
ion, and those of Chrysippus a third. “What
then is your opinion?” 1 was not made for
this pur|x>sc, to examine the apj)carances that
occur to me and to compare what others say
and to form an opinion of my own on the
thing. Therefore I differ not at all from the
grammarian. “Who was Hector’s father?”
Priam. “Who were his brothers?” Alexander
and Deiphobus. “Who was their mother?”
Hecuba. I have heard this story. “From
whom?” From Homer. And Hellanicus also,
I think, writes about the same things, and
perhaps others like him. And what further
have 1 about the ruling argument? Nothing.

DISCOURSES, BOOK II 163

But, if I am a vain man, especially at a ban-
quet, I surprise the guests by enumerating
those who have written on these matters.
Both Chrysippus has written wonderfully in
his first book about “Possibilities,” and Clean-
thes has written specially on the subject, and
Archedemus. Antipatcr also has written not
only in his work about “Possibilities,” but
also separately in his work on the ruling argu-
ment. Have you not read the work? “I have
not read it.” Read. And what profit will a
man have from it? he will be more trifling and
impertinent than he is now; for what eKe
have you gained by reading it? What opinion
have you formed on this subject? none; but
you will tell us of Helen and Priam, and the
island of Calypso which never was and never
will be. And in this matter indeed it is of no
great importance if you retain the story, but
have formed no opinion of your own. But in
matters of morality this happens to us much
more than in the ^ things of which we arc
speaking.

“Speak to me about good and evil.” Listen:

T/ie wind jrom Ilium to Ciconuw shores

Brought nu'}

“Of things some are good, some are bad, and
others arc iiuliflerent. The good then arc the
virtues and the thing;> which partake of the
virtues; the bad arc the vices, and the things
which partake of them; and the indifferent
arc the things which lie between the virtues
and the vices, wealth, health, life, death,
pleasure, pain.” Whence do you know this?
“Hcllanicus says it in his Egyptian history”;
for what difference docs it make to say this,
or to say that “Diogenes has it in his Ethic,**
or Chrysippus or Cleanthes? Have you then
examined any of these things and formed an
opinion of your own? Show how you are used
to behave in a storm on shipboard? Do you re-
member this division, when the sail rattles
and a man, who knows nothing of times and
seasons, stands by you when you are scream-
ing and says, “Tell me, I ask you by the Gods,
what you were saying just now. Is it a vice to
suffer shipwreck; docs it participate in vice?”
Will you not take up a stick and lay it on his
head? What have we to do with you, man?

^ Homer, Odyssey^ ix. 39.

we arc perishing and you come to mock us?
But if Cxsar sent for you to answer a charge,
do you remember the distinction? If, when you
are going in, pale and trembling, a person
should come up to you and say, “Why do you
tremble, man? what is the matter about which
you are engaged ? Does Caesar who sits within
give virtue and vice to those who go in to
him?” You reply, “Why do you also mock me
and add to my present sorrows?” Still tell me,
philosopher, tell me why you tremble? Is it
not death of which you run the risk, or a
prison, or pain of the body, or banishment, or
disgrace? What else is there? Is there any
vice or anything which partakes of vice?
What then did you use to say of these things?
“What have you to do with me, man? my
own evils are enough for me.” And you say
right. Your own evils are enough for you,
your baseness, your cowardice, your boasting
which you showed when you sat in the school.
Why did you decorate yourself with what be-
longed to others? Why did you call yourself
a Stoic?

Observe yourselves thus in your actions, and
you will find to what sect you belong. You will
find that most of you are Epicureans, a few
Peripatetics, and those feeble. For wherein
w'ill you show that you really consider virtue
equal to everything else or even superior? But
show me a Stoic, if you can. Where or how?
But you can show'^ me an endless number who
utter small arguments of the Stoics. For do
the same persons repeat the Epicurean opin-
ions any worse? And the Peripatetic, do they
not handle them also with equal accuracy?
who then is a Stoic? As we call a statue Phi-
diac, which is fashioned according to the art
of Phidias; so show me a man who is fash-
ioned according to the doctrines which he ut-
ters. Show me a man who is sick and happy,
in danger and happy, dying and happy, in
exile and happy, in disgrace and happy. Show
him: I desire, by the gods, to see a Stoic. You
cannot show me one fashioned so; but show
me at least one who is forming, who has
shown a tendency to be a Stoic. Do me this
favor: do not grudge an old man seeing a
sight which I have not seexf'yet. Do you think
that you must show me the Zeus of Phidias

164 EPICTETUS

or the Athena, a work of ivory and gold?^ Let
any of you show me a human soul ready to
think as God does, and not to blame either
God or man, ready not to be disappointed
about anything, not to consider himself dam-
aged by anything, not to be angry, not to be
envious, not to be Jealous; and why should I
not say it direct? desirous from a man to be-
come a god, and in this poor mortal body
thinking of his fellowship with Zeus.* Show
me the man. But you cannot. Why then do
you delude yourselves and cheat others? and
why do you put on a guise which docs not be-
long to you, and walk about being thieves and
pilferers of these names and things which do
not belong to you?

And now I am your teacher, and you are in-
structed in my school. And I have this pur-
pose, to make you free from restraint, com-
pulsion, hindrance, to make you free, pros-
perous, happy, looking to God in everything
small and great. And you arc here to learn
and practice these things. Why, then, do you
not finish the work, if you also have such a
purpose as you ought to have, and if I, in ad-
dition to the purpose, also have such qualifica-
tion as I ought to have? What is that which is
wanting? When I sec an artificer and material
lying by him, I exj^ct the work. Here, then,
is the artificer, here the material; what is it
that we want? Is not the thing one that can*be
taught? It is. Is it not then in our power? The
only thing of all that is in our power. Neither
wealth is in our power, nor health, nor repu-
tation, nor in a word anything else except the
right use of appearances. This is by nature
free from restraint, this alone is free from im-
pediment. Why then do you not finish the
work? Tell me the reason. For it is cither
through my fault that you do not finish it, or
through your own fault, or through the nature
of the thing. The thing itself is possible, and
the only thing in our power. It remains then
that the fault is either in me or in you, or,
what is nearer the truth, in both. Well then,
are you willing that we begin at last to bring
such a purpose into this school, and to take no
notice of the past? Let us only make a begin-
ning. Trust to me, and you will see.

^See ii. 8.

*I John, I.

Chapter 20. Against the Epicureans and Aca*
demies

The propositions which are true and evident
are of necessity used even by those who con-
tradict them: and a man might perhaps con-
sider it to be the greatest proof of a thing be-»
ing evident that it is found to be necessary
even for him who denies it to make use of it
at the same time. For instance, if a man should
deny that there is anything universally true,
it is plain that he must make the contradic-
tory negation, that nothing is universally true.
What, wretch, do you not admit even this?
For what else is this than to affirm that what-
ever is universally affirmed is false? Again if
a man should come forward and say: '*Know
that there is nothing that can be known, but
all things are incapable of sure evidence”; or
if another say, “Believe me and you will be
the better for it, that a man ought not to be-
lieve anything”; or again, if another should
say, “Learn from me, man, that it is not pos-
sible to learn anything; I tell you this and will
teach you, if you choose.” Now in what re-
spect do these dilTcr from those? Whom shall
I name? Those who call themselves Academ-
ics? “Men, agree that no man agrees: believe
us that no man believes anybody.”

Thus Epicurus also, W'hen Ke designs to de-
stroy the natural fellowship of mankind, at
the same time makes use of that which he de-
stroys. For what docs he say? “Be not de-
ceived, men, nor be led astray, nor be mis-
taken: there is no natural fellowship among
rational animals; believe me. But those who
say otherwise, deceive you and seduce you by
false reasons.” What is this to you? Permit us
to be deceived. Will you fare worse, if all the
rest of us arc persuaded that there is a natural
fellowship among us, and that it ought by all
means to be preserved? Nay, it will be much
better and safer for you. Man^ why do you
trouble yourself about us? Why do you keep
awake for us? Why do you light your lamp?
Why do you rise early? Why dp you write so
many books, that no one of lis may be de-
ceived about the gods and believe that they
take care of men; or that no one may suppose
the nature of good to be other than pleasure?
For if this is so, lie down and sleep, and lead
the life of a worm, of which you judged your-

DISCOURSES. BOOK II 165

self worthy: eat and drinks and enjoy women,
and case yourself, and snore.^ And what is it
to you, how the rest shall think about these
things, whether right or wrong? For what
have we to do with you? You take care of
sheep because they supply us with wool, and
milk, and, last of all, with their flesh. Would
it not be a desirable thing if men could be
lulled and enchanted by the Stoics, and sleep
and present themselves to you and to those
like you to be shorn and milked ? For this you
ought to say to your brother Epicureans: but
ought you not to conceal it from others, and
particularly before everything to persuade
them that we are by nature adapted for fellow-
ship, that temperance is a good thing; in order
that all things may be secured for you? Or
ought we to maintain this fellowship with
some and not with others? With whom, then,
ought wc to maintain it? With such as on
their part also maintain it, or with such as
violate this fellov^ hip? And who violate it
more than you who establish such doctrines?

What then was it that waked Epicurus from
his sleepiness, and compelled him to write
what he did write? What else was it than that
which is the strongest thing in men, nature,
which draws a man to her own will though he
be unwilling and coniplaining? “For since,”
she says, “you think that there is no commu-
nity among mankind, write this opinion and
leave it for others, and break your sleep to do
this, and by your own practice condemn your
own opinions.” Shall wc then say that Orestes
was agitated by the Erinyes and roused from
his deep sleep, and dici not more savage Erin-
yes and Pains rouse Epicurus from his sleep
and not allow him to rest, but compelled him
to make known his own evils, as madness and
wine did the Galli? So strong and invincible
is man’s nature. For how can a vine be moved
not in the manner of a vine, but in the man-
.ner of an olive tree? or on the other hand how
can an olive tree be moved not in the manner
of an olive tree, but in the manner of a vine?
It is impossible: it cannot be conceived.
Neither then is it possible for a man complete-
ly to lose the movements of a man; and even
those who arc deprived of their genital mem-
bers are not able to deprive themselves of

^ I Cor. 15. 32.

man’s desires. Thus Epicurus also mutilated
all the offices of a man, and of a father of a
family, and of a citizen and of a friend, but
he did not mutilate human desires, for he
could not; not more than the lazy Academics
can cast away or blind their own senses,
though they have tried with all their might to
do it. What a shame is this? when a man has
received from nature measures and rules for
the knowing of truth, and does not strive to
add to these measures and rules and to im-
prove them, but, just the contrary, endeavors
to take away and destroy whatever enables us
to discern the truth?

What say you philosopher? piety and sanc-
tity, what do you think that they are? “If you
like, I will demonstrate that they are good
things.” Well, demonstrate it, that our citi-
zens may be turned and honor the deity and
may no longer be negligent about things of the
highest value. “Have you then the demonstra-
tions?” I have, and I am thankful. “Since
then you are well pleased with them, hear the
contrary: ‘That there are no Gods, and, if
there arc, they take no care of men, nor is
there any fellowship between us and them;
and that this piety and sanctity which is
talked of among most men is the lying of
boasters and sophists, or certainly of legislators
for the purpose of terrifying and checking
wrong-doers.* ” Well done, philosopher, you
have done something for our citizens, you
have brought back all the young men to con-
tempt of things divine. “What then, docs not
this satisfy you? Learn now, that justice is
nothing, that modesty is folly, that a father is
nothing, a son nothing.” Well done, philoso-
pher, persist, persuade the young men, that
we may have more with the same opinions as
you and who say the same as you. From such
principles as those have grown our well-con-
stituted states; by these was Sparta founded:
Lycurgus fixed these opinions in the Spartans
by his laws and education, that neither is the
servile condition more base than honourable,
nor the condition of free men more honour-
able than base, and that those who died at
Thermopyla? died from these opinions; and
through what other opinioffs did the Atheni-
ans leave their city? Then those who talk
thus, marry and beget children, and employ

i66 EPICTETUS

themselves in public affairs and make them- harm should lose all the seeds of his generous

selves priests and interpreters. Of whom? of
gods who do not exist: and they consult the
Pythian priestess that they may hear lies, and
they repeat the oracles to others. Monstrous
impudence and imposture.

Man what are you doing? are you refuting
yourself every day; and will you not give up
these frigid attempts? When you cat, where
do you carry your hand to? to your mouth or
to your eye? when you wash yourself, what
do you go into? do you ever call a pot a dish,
or a ladle a spit? If I were a slave of any of
these men, even if I must be flayed by him
daily, I would rack him. If he said, “Boy,
throw some olive-oil into the bath,” I would
take pickle sauce and pour it down on his
head. “What is this?” he would say. An ap-
pearance was presented to me, I swear by your
genius, which could not be distinguished from
oil and was exactly like it. “Here give me the
barley drink,” he says. I would fill and carry
him a dish of sharp sauce. “Did I not ask for
the barley drink?” Yes, master; this is the
barley drink. “Take it and smell; take it and
taste.” How do you know then if our senses
deceive us? If I had three or four fellow-slaves
of the same opinion, I should force him to
hang himself through passion or to change
his mind. But now they mock us by using all
the things which nature gives, and in words
destroying them.

Grateful indeed are men and modest, who,
if they do nothing else, are daily eating bread
and yet arc shameless enough to say, we do not
know if there is a Dcmcter or her daughter
Persephone or a Pluto; not to mention that
they arc enjoying the night and the day, the
seasons of the year, and the stars, and the sea,
and the land, and the co-operation of man-
kind, and yet they are not moved in any de-
gree by these things to turn their attention to
them; but they only seek to belch out their
little problem, and when they have exercised
their stomach to go off to the bath. But what
they shall say, and about what things or to
what persons, and what their hearers shall
learn from this talk, they care not even in the
least degree, nor do they care if any generous
youth after hearing such talk should suffer
any harm from it, nor after he has suffered

nature: nor if we should give an adulterer help
toward being shameless in his acts; nor if a
public peculator should lay hold of some cun-
ning excuse from these doctrines; nor if an-
other who neglects his parents should be con-
firmed in his audacity by this teaching. What
then in your opinion is good or bad? This or
that? Why then should a man say any more
in reply to such persons as these, or give them
any reason or listen to any reasons from them,
or try to convince them? By Zeus one might
much sooner expect to make catamites change
their mind than those who are become so deaf
and blind to their own cvils.^

Chapter 21. 0 / inconsistency
Some things men readily confess, and other
things they do not. No one then will confess
that he is a fool or without understanding;
but, quite the contrary, you will hear all men
saying, “I wish that I had fortune equal to my
understanding.” But men readily confess that
they are timid, and they say: “I am rather
timid, I confess; but as to other respects you
will not find me to be foolish.” A man will
not readily confess that he is intemperate; and
that he is unjust, he wnll not confess at all. He
will by no means confess thaflic is envious or
a busybody. Most men will confess that they
are compassionate. What then is the reason?
The chief thing is inconsistency and confu-
sion in the things which relate to good and
evil. But different men have different reasons;
and generally what they imagine to be base,
they do not confess at all. But they suppose
timidity to be a characteristic of a good dis-
position, and compassion also; but silliness to
be the absolute characteristic of a slave. And
they do not at all admit the things which are
offenses against society. But in the case of
most errors, for this reason chiefly, they are in-
duced to confess them, because they imagine
that there is something involuntary in them
as in timidity and compassion; and if a man
confess that he is in any respect intemperate,
he alleges love as an excuse for what is in-
voluntary. But men do not imagine injustice
to be at all involuntary. There is also in jeal-
ousy, as they suppose, something involuntary;

^ Compare Matt. 21. 31.

DISCOURSES, BOOK II 167

and for this reason they confess to jealousy
also.

Living then among such men, who are so
confused, so ignorant of what they say, and of
evils which they have or have not, and why
they have them, or how they shall be relieved
of them, I think it is worth the trouble for a
man to watch constantly “Whether I also am
one of them, what imagination I have about
myself, how I conduct myself, whether I con-
duct myself as a prudent man, whether I con-
duct myself as a temperate man, whether I
ever say this, that I have been taught to be pre-
pared for everything that may happen. Have
I the consciousness, which a man who knows
nothing ought to have, that I know nothing.^
Do I go to my teacher as men go to oracles,
prepared to obey.? or do I like a sniveling boy
go to my school to learn history and under-
stand the books which 1 did not understand
before, and, if it should happen so, to explain
them also to odie Man, you have had a
fight in the house with a poor slave, you have
turned the family upside down, you have
frightened the neighbours, and you come to me
as if you were a wise man, and you take your
seat and judge how I have explained some
word, and how T have babbled whatever came
into my head. You come full of envy, and
humbled, because you bring nothing from
home; and you sit during the discussion think-
ing of nothing else than how your father is
disposed toward you and your brother. “What
are they saying about me there.? now they
think that I am improving, and arc saying,
‘He will return with all knowledge.’ I wish
I could learn everything before I return: but
much labour is necessary, and no one sends me
anything, and the baths at Nicopolis are dirty;
everything is bad at home, and bad here,”

Then they say, “No one gains any profit
from the school.” Why, who comes to the
. school ? who comes for the purpose of being
improved.? who comes to present his opinions
to be purified .? who comes to learn what he is
in want of.? Why do you wonder then if you
carry back from the school the very things
which you bring into it? For you come not to
lay aside or to correct them or to receive other
principles in place of them. By no means, nor
anything like it. You rather look to this,

whether you possess already that for which
you come. You wish to prattle about theor-
ems.? What then.? Do you not become greater
triflers? Do not your little theorems give you
some opportunity of display.? You solve so-
phistical syllogisms.^ Do you not examine the
assumptions of the syllogism named “The
Liar”.?^ Do you not examine hypothetical syl-
logisms.? Why, then, are you still vexed if you
receive the things for which you come to the
school.? “Yes; but if my child die or my
brother, or if I must die or be racked, what
good will these things do me?” Well, did you
come for this.? for this do you sit by my side.?
did you ever for this light your lamp or keep
awake or, when you went out to the walk-
ing-place, did you ever propose any appear-
ance that had been presented to you instead of
a syllogism, and did you and your friends dis-
cuss it together.? Where and when.? Then you
say, “Theorems are useless.” To whom.? To
such as make a bad use of them. For eye-
salves arc not useless to those who use them
as they ought and when they ought. Fomen-
tations are not useless. Dumb-bells® arc not
useless; but they are useless to some, useful to
others. If you ask me now if syllogisms arc
useful, I will tell you that they are useful, and
if you choose, I will prove it.^ “How then will
they in any way be useful to me.?” Man, did
you ask if they are useful to you, or did you
ask generally .? Let him who is suffering from
dysentery ask me if vinegar is useful: I will
say that it is useful. “Will it then be useful
to me.?” I will say, “No.” Seek first for the dis-
charge to be stopped and the ulcers to be
closed. And do you, O men, first cure the ul-
cers and stop the discharge; be tranquil in
your mind, bring it free from distraction into
the school, and you will know what power
reason has.

Chapter 22. On friendship
Wh.\t a man applies himself to earnestly, that
he naturally loves. Do men then apply them-
selves earnestly to the things which are bad.?
By no means. Well, do they apply themselves
to things which in no way concern them-
selves.? Not to these eithcff It remains, then,

^ Sec i. 7. *Scc ii. 17.

* See page 109, note on halteres.

* See ii. 25.

EPICTETUS

i68

that they employ themselves earnestly only
about things which are good; and if they are
earnesdy employed about things, they love
such things also. Whoever, then, understands
what is good, can also know how to love; but
he who cannot distinguish good from bad,
and things which are neither good nor bad
from both, how can he possess the power of
loving? To love, then, is only in the power of
the wise,

“How is this?” a man may say; “I am
foolish, and yet I love my child.” I am sur>
prised indeed that you have begun by making
the admission that you are foolish. For what
are you deficient in? Can you not make use of
your senses? do you not distinguish appear-
ances? do you not use food which is suitable
for your body, and clothing and habitation?
Why then do you admit that you are foolish?
It is in truth because you are often disturbed
by appearances and perplexed, and their pow-
er of persuasion often conquers you; and
sometimes you think these things to be good,
and then the same things to be bad, and lastly
neither good nor bad; and in short you grieve,
fear, envy, arc disturbed, you arc changed.
This is the reason why you confess that you
are foolish. And are you not changeable m
love? But wealth, and pleasure and, in a word,
things themselves, do you sometimes think
them to be good and sometimes bad? and* do
you not think the same men at one time to be
good, at another time bad? and have you not
at one time a friendly feeling toward them
and at another time the feeling of an enemy?
and do you not at one time praise them and at
another time blame them? “Yes; I have these
feelings also.” Well then, do you think that he
who has been deceived about a man is his
friend? “Certainly not.” And he who has
selected a man as his friend and is of a change-
able disposition, has he good-will toward him?
“He has not.” And he who now abusea a man,
and afterward admires him? “This man also
has no good-will to the other.” Well then, did
you never see little dogs caressing and playing
with one another, so that you might say there
is nothing more friendly? but, that you may
know what friendship is, throw a bit of flesh
among them, and you will learn. Throw be-
tween yourself and your son a litde estate, and

you will know how soon he will wish to bury
you and how soon you wish your son to die.
Then you will change your tone and say,
“What a son 1 have brought up! He has long
been wishing to bury me.” Throw a smart
girl between you; and do you, the old man,
love her, and the young one will love her too.
If a little fame intervene, or dangers, it will be
just the same. You will utter the words of the
father of AdmetusI

Ufe gives you pleasure: and why not your father}

Do you think that Admetus did not love his
own child when he was little? that he was not
in agony when the child had a fever? that he
did not often say, “I wish I had the fever in-
stead of the child?” then when the test (the
thing) came and was near, see what words
they utter. Were not Eteoclcs and Polynices
from the same mother and from the same
father? Were they not brought up together,
had they not lived together, drunk together,
slept together, and often kissed one another?
So that, if any man, I think, had seen them, he
would have ridiculed the philosophers (or the
paradoxes which they utter about friendship.
But when a quarrel rose between them about
the royal power, as between dogs about a bit
of meat, sec what they say

Polynices, Where will you take your station before
the towers?

Eteoclcs, Why do you ask me this?

Pol, I will place myself opposite and try to kill you.
Et, I also wish to do the same.*

Such arc the wishes that they utter.

For universally, be not deceived, every ani-
mal is attached to nothing so much as to its
own interest. Whatever then appears to it an
impediment to this interest, whether this be a
brother, or a father, or a child, or beloved, or
lover, it hates, spurns, curses: for its nature is
to love nothing so much as its own interest;
this is father, and brother andf kinsman, and
country, and God. When, thcA, the gods ap-
pear to us to be an impediment to this, we
abuse them and throw down their statues and
burn their temples, as Alexandicr ordered the
temples of iCsculapius to be burned when his
dear friend died.

* Euripides, Alcestis, 691.

^Euripides, Phoenician Maidens, 633.

DISCOURSES, BOOK II 169

For this reason if a man put in the same
place his interest, sanctity, goodness, and
country, and parents, and friends, all these are
secured: but if he puts in one place his in-
terest, in another his friends, and his country
and his kinsmen and justice itself, all these
give way being borne down by the weight of
interest. For where the “I” and the “Mine”
are placed, to that place of necessity the ani-
mal inclines: if in the flesh, there is the ruling
power: if in the will, it is there: and if it is in
externals, it is there.* If then I am there where
my will is, then only shall I be a friend such
as I ought to be, and son, and father; for this
will be my interest, to maintain the character
of fidelity, of modesty, of patience, of abstin-
ence, of active co-operation, of observing my
relations. But if I put myself in one place, and
honesty in another, then the doctrine of Epi-
curus becomes strong, which asserts either
that there is no honesty or it is that which
opinion holds to be lionest.^

It was through this ignorance that the Athe-
nians and the Lacedamonians quarreled, and
the Thebans with both; and the great king
quarreled with Hellas, and the Macedonians
with both; and the Romans with the Getac.’
And still earlier the Trojan war happened for
these reasons. Alexander was the guest of
Menelaus; and if any man had seen their
friendly disposition, he would not have be-
lieved any one who said that they were not
friends. But there was cast between them a
bit of meat, a handsome woman, and about
her war arose. And now when you see brothers
to be friends ap()earing to have one mind, do
not conclude from this anything about their
friendship, not even if they say it and swear
that it is impossible for them to be separated
from one another. For the ruling principle of
a bad man cannot be trusted, it is insecure,
has no certain rule by which it is directed, and
•is overpowered at different times by different
appearances. But examine, not what other
men examine, if they arc born of the same par-
ents and brought up together, and under the
same pedagogue; but examine this only,
wherein they place their interest, whether in

^ Matt. 6. 21.

* Compare ElcIcs. la. 13.

* Thucydides, i. i. Herodotus, i. i.

externals or in the will. If in externals, do not
name them friends, no more than name them
trustworthy or constant, or brave or free: do
not name them even men, if you have any
judgment. For that is not a principle of hu-
man nature which makes them bite one an-
other, and abuse one another, and occupy de-
serted places or public places, as if they were
mountains, and in the courts of justice display
the acts of robbers; nor yet that which makes
them intemperate and adulterers and corrup-
ters, nor that which makes them do whatever
else men do against one another through this
one opinion only, that of placing themselves
and their interests in the things which are not
within the power of their will. But if you hear
that in truth these men think the good to be
only there, where will is, and where there is
a right use of appearances, no longer trouble
yourself whether they arc father or son, or
brothers, or have associated a long time and
arc companions, but when you have ascer-
tained this only, confidently declare that they
arc friends, as you declare that they arc faith-
ful, that they are just. For where else is friend-
ship than where there is fidelity, and modesty,
where there is a communion of honest things
and of nothing else.^

“But,” you may say, “such a one treated me
with regard so long; and did he not love me?”
How do you know, slave, if he did not regard
you in the same way as he wipes his shoes
with a sponge, or as he takes care of his beast
How do you know, when you have ceased to
be useful as a vessel, he will not throw you
away like a broken platter? “But this woman
is my wife, and we have lived together so
long.” And how long did Eriphylc live with
Amphiaraus, and was the mother of children
and of many? But a necklace came between
them. “And what is a necklace?” It is the
opinion about such things. That was the bestial
principle, that was the thing which broke
asunder the friendship between husband and
wife, that which did not allow the woman to
be a wife nor the motlier to be a mother. And
let every man among you who has seriously
resolved cither to be a friend himself or to
have another for his friend, N^t out these opin-
ions, hate them, drive them from his soul. And
thus, first of all, he will not reproach himself.

170 EPICTETUS

he will not be at variance with himself, he will
not change his mind, he will not torture him-
self. In the next place, to another also, who is
like himself, he will be altogether and com-
pletely a friend. But he will bear with the man
who is unlike himself, he will be kind to him,
gentle, ready to pardon on account of his igno-
rance, on account of his being mistaken in
things of the greatest importance; but he will
be harsh to no man, being well convinced of
Plato’s doctrine that every mind is deprived of
truth unwillingly. If you cannot do this, yet
you can do in all other respects as friends do,
drink together, and lodge together, and sail to-
gether, and you may be born of the same par-
ents; for snakes also are: but neither will they
be friends nor you, so long as you retain these
bestial and cursed opinions.

Chapter 23. On the power of speaking
Every man will read a book with more pleas-
ure or even with more ease, if it is written in
fairer characters. Therefore every man will al-
so listen more readily to what is spoken, if it is
signified by appropriate and becoming words.
We must not say, then, that there is no faculty
of expression: for this affirmation is the charac-
teristic of an impious and also of a timid man.
Of an impious man, because he undervalues
the gifts which come from God, just as if he
would take away the commodity of the power
of vision, or of hearing, or of seeing. Has, then,
God given you eyes to no purpose? and to no
purpose has he infused into them a spirit so
strong and of such skillful contrivance as to
reach a long way and to fashion the forms of
things which are seen? What messenger is so
swift and vigilant? And to no purpose has he
made the interjacent atmosphere so efficacious
and clastic that the vision penetrates through
the atmosphere which is in a manner moved?
And to no purpose has he made light, without
the presence of which there would be no use
in any other thing?

Man, be neither ungrateful for these gifts
nor yet forget the things which are superior
to them. But indeed for the power of seeing
and hearing, and indeed for life itself, and for
the things which contribute to support it, for
the fruits which are dry, and for wine and oil
give thanks to God: but remember that he has

given you something else better than all these,
I mean the power of using them, proving
them and estimating the value of each. For
what is that which gives information about
each of these powers, what each of them is
worth ?^ Is it each faculty itself? Did you ever
hear the faculty of vision saying anything
about itself? or the faculty of hearing? or
wheat, or barley, or a horse or a dog? No; but
they are appointed as ministers and slaves to
serve the faculty which has the power of
making use of the appearances of things. And
if you inquire what is the value of each thing,
of whom do you inquire? who answers you?
How then can any other faculty be more pow-
erful than this, which uses the rest as ministers
and itself proves each and pronounces about
them? for which of them knows what itself is,
and what is its own value? which of them
knows when it ought to employ itself and
when not? what faculty is it which opens and
closes the eyes, and turns them away from ob-
jects to which it ought not to apply them and
does apply them to other objects? Is it the
faculty of vision? No; but it is the faculty of
the will. What is that faculty which closes and
opens the cars? what is that by which they
arc curious and inquisitive^r, on the con-
trary, unmoved by what is said? is it the fac-
ulty of hearing? It is no other than the faculty
of the will. Will this faculty then, seeing that
it is amid all the other faculties which arc
blind and dumb and unable to see anything
else except the very acts for which they are
appointed in order to minister to this and
serve it, but this faculty alone sees sharp and
sees what is the value of each of the rest; will
this faculty declare to us that anything else is
the best, or that itself is? And what else docs
the eye do when it is opened than see? But
whether we ought to look on the wife of a
certain person, and in what manner, who tells
us? The faculty of the will. And whether we
ought to believe what is said or not to believe
it, and if we do believe, whether we ought to
be moved by it or not, who tells us? Is it not
the faculty of the will? But this faculty of
speaking and of ornamenting words, if there
is indeed any such peculiar faculty, what else
does it do, when there happens to be discourse
* See i. X.

DISCOURSES, BOOK II

about a thing, than to ornament the words
and arrange them as hairdressers do the hair?
But whether it is better to speak or to be silent,
and better to speak in this way or that way, and
whether this is becoming or not becoming,
and the season for each and the use, what else
tells us than the faculty of the will? Would
you have it then to come forward and con-
demn itself?

“What then?” it says, “if the fact is so, can
that which ministers be superior to that to
which it ministers, can the horse be superior
to the rider, or the dog to the huntsman, or the
instrument to the musician, or the servants to
the king?” What is that which makes use of
the rest? The will. What takes care of all?
The will. What destroys the whole man, at
one time by hunger, at another time by hang-
ing, and at another time by a precipice? The
will. Then is anything stronger in men than
this? and how is it possible that the things
which arc subject u restraint are stronger than
that which is not? What things are naturally
formed to hinder the faculty of vision? Both
will and things which do not depend on the
faculty of the will. It is the same with the fac-
ulty of hearing, with the faculty of sf>eaking
in like manner. But what has a natural power
of hindering the will." Nothing which is in-
dependent of the will; but only the will itself,
when it is perverted. Therefore this is alone
vice or alone virtue.

Then being so great a faculty and set over
all the rest, let it come forward and tell us
that the most excellent of all things is the
flesh. Not even if the flesh itself declared that
it is the most excellent, would any person bear
that it should say this. But what is it, Epi-
curus, which pronounces this, which wrote
about “The End of our Being,” which wrote
on “The Nature of Things,” which wrote
about the Canon, which led you to wear a
■beard, which wrote when it was dying that it
was spending the last and a happy day? Was
this the flesh or the will? Then do you admit
that you possess anything superior to this? and
are you not mad? arc you in fact so blind and
deaf?

What then ? Docs any man despise the other
faculties? I hope not. Docs any man say that
there is no use or excellence in the speaking

faculty? I hope not. That would be foolish,
impious, ungrateful toward God. But a man
renders to each thing its due value. For there
is some use even in an ass, but not so much as
in an ox: there is also use in a dog, but not so
much as in a slave: there is also some use in a
slave, but not so much as in citizens: there is
also some use in citizens, but not so much as
in magistrates. Not, indeed, because some
things are superior, must we undervalue the
use which other things have. There is a cer-
tain value in the power of speaking, but it is
not so great as the power of the will. When,
then, I speak thus, let no man think that I ask
you to neglect the power of speaking, for
neither do I ask you to neglect the eyes, nor
the cars nor the hands nor the feet, nor cloth-
ing nor shoes. But if you ask me, “What, then,
is the most excellent of all things?” what
must I say? I cannot say the power of speak-
ing, but the power of the will, when it is right.
For it is this which uses the other, and all the
other faculties both small and great. For when
this faculty of the will is set right, a man who
is not good becomes good: but when it fails,
a man becomes bad. It is through this that we
arc unfortunate, that we are fortunate, that
we blame one another, are pleased with one
another. In a word, it is this which if we neg-
lect it makes unhappiness, and if we carefully
look after it makes happiness.

But to take away the faculty of speaking,
and to say that there is no such faculty in
reality, is the act not only of an ungrateful
man toward those w'ho gave it, but also of a
cowardly man: for such a person seems to me
to fear, if there is any faculty of this kind, that
we shall not be able to despise it. Such also are
those who say that there is no difference be-
tween beauty and ugliness. Then it would
happen that a man w^ould be affected in the
same way if he saw Thersites and if he saw
Achilles; in the same way, if he saw Helen
and any other woman* But these are foolish
and clownish notions, and the notions of men
who know not the nature of each thing, but
arc afraid, if a man shall see the difference,
that he shall immediately seized and car-
ried off vanquished. But this is the great mat-
ter; to leave to each thing the power which it
has, and leaving to it this power to sec what

i7a EPICTETUS

is the worth of the power, and to learn what bad luck, to be free, not hindered, not com-

is the most excellent of all things, and to pur-
sue this always, to be diligent about this, con-
sidering all other things of secondary value
compared with this, but yet, as far as we can,
not neglecting all those other things. For we
must take care of the eyes also, not as if they
were the most excellent thing, but we must
take care of them on account of the most ex-
cellent thing, because it will not be in its true
natural condition, if it does not rightly use
the other faculties, and prefer some things to
others.

What then is usually done? Men generally
act as a traveler would do on his way to his
own country, when he enters a good inn, and
being pleased with it should remain there.
Man, you have forgotten your purpose: you
were not traveling to this inn, but you were
passing through it. “But this is a pleasant
inn.” And how many other inns are pleasant?
and how many meadows are pleasant? yet
only for passing through. But your purpose is
this, to return to your country, to relieve your
kinsmen of anxiety, to discharge the duties of
a citizen, to marry, to beget children, to fill the
usual magistracies. For you are not come to
select more pleasant places, but to live in these
where you were born and of which you were
made a citizen. Something of the kind takes
place in the matter which we arc considering.
Since, by the aid of speech and such com-
munication as you receive here, you must ad-
vance to perfection, and purge your will, and
correct the faculty which makes use of the ap-
pearances of things; and since it is necessary
also for the teaching of theorems to be effected
by a certain mode of expression and with a
certain variety and sharpness, some persons
captivated by these very things abide in them,
one captivated by the expression, another by
syllogisms, another again by sophisms, and
still another by some other inn of the kind;
and there they stay and waste away as if they
were among Sirens.

Man, your purpose was to make yourself
capable of using conformably to nature the
appearances presented to you, in your desires
not to be frustrated, in your aversion from
things not to fall into that which you would
avoid, never to have no luck, nor ever to have

pelled, conforming yourself to the administra-
tion of Zeus, obeying it, well satisfied with this,
blaming no one, charging no one with fault,
able from your whole soul to utter these verses:

**Lcad me, O Zeus, and thou, too. Destiny,*^

Then having this purpose before you, if some
little form of expression pleases you, if some
theorems please you, do you abide among
them and choose to dwell there, forgetting the
things at home, and do you say, “These things
are fine”? Who says that they are not fine?
but only as being a way home, as inns are. For
what hinders you from being an unfortunate
man, even if you speak like Demosthenes? and
what prevents you, if you can resolve syllo-
gisms like Chrysippus, from being wretched,
from sorrowing, from envying, in a word,
from being disturbed, from being unhappy?
Nothing. You see then that these were inns,
worth nothing; and that the purpose before
you was something else. When 1 speak thus
to some jxrrsons, they think that I am rejecting
care about speaking or care about theorems. I
am not rejecting this care, but I am rejecting
the abiding about these things incessantly and
putting our hopes in them. a man by this
teaching does harm to those who listen to him,
reckon me too among those who do this harm:
for I am not able, when I sec one thing which
is most excellent and supreme, to say that an-
other is so, in order to please you.

Chapter 24. To a person who was one of

those who were not valued by him
A CERTAIN person said to him: “Frequently I
desired to hear you and came to you, and you
never gave me any answer: and now, if it is
possible, I entreat you to say something to
me.” Do you think, said Epictetus, that as
there is an art in anything else, so there is also
an art in speaking, and that h|c who has the
art, will speak skillfully, and he who has not,
will speak unskillfully? “I do think so.” He,
then, who by speaking receives benefit him-
self, and is able to benefit otlicrs, will speak
skillfully: but he who is rather damaged by
speaking and does damage to others, will he
1^ unskilled in this art of speaking? And you
may find that some are damaged and others

DISCOURSES, BOOK II 173

benefited by speaking. And are all who hear repugnance is? Show me then what I shall ac-

benefited by what they hear? Or will you find
that among them also some are benefited and
some damaged? ‘"There are both among these
also/’ he said. In this case also, then, those
who hear skillfully are benefited, and those
who hear unskillfully are damaged? He ad-
mitted this. Is there then a skill in hearing
also, as there is in speaking? “It seems so.” If
you choose, consider the matter in this way
also. The practice of music, to whom does it
belong? “To a musician.” And the proper
making of a statue, to whom do you think
that it belongs? “To a statuary.” And the look-
ing at a statue skillfully, does this appear to
you to require the aid of no art? “This also
requires the aid of art.” Then if speaking
properly is the business of the skillful man, do
you sec that to hear also with benefit is the
business of the skillful man? Now as to speak-
ing and hearing perfectly, and usefully, let us
for the present, if you please, say no more, for
both of us arc a long way from everything of
the kind. But I think that every man will al-
low this, that he who is going to hear philos-
ophers requires some amount of practice in
hearing. Is it not so?

Tell me then about what I should talk to
you : about what matter are you able to listen ?
“About good and evil.” Good and evil in
what? In a horse? “No.” Well, in an ox?
“No.” What then? In a man? “Yes.” Do we
know then what a man is, what the notion is
that we have of him, or have we our cars in
any degree practiced about this matter? But
do you understand what nature is? or can you
even in any degree understand me when I
say, “I shall use demonstration to you?” How?
Do you understand this very thing, what dem-
onstration is, or how anything is demonstrated,
or by what means; or what things arc like
demonstration, but arc not demonstration? Do
you know what is true or what is false? What
is consequent on a thing, what is repugnant
to a thing, or nbt consistent, or inconsistent?
But must I excite you to philosophy, and how?
Shall I show to you the repugnance in the
opinions of most men, through which they
differ about things good and evil, and about
things which are profitable and unprofitable,
when you know not this very thing, what

complish by discoursing with you; excite my
inclination to do this. As the grass which is
suitable, when it is presented to a sheep,
moves its inclination to eat, but if you present
to it a stone or bread, it will not be moved to
eat; so there are in us certain natural inclina-
tions also to speak, when the hearer shall ap-
pear to be somebody, when he himself shall
excite us; but when he shall sit by us like a
stone or like grass, how can he excite a man’s
desire? Docs the vine say to the husbandman,
“Take care of me?” No, but the vine by show-
ing in itself that it will be profitable to the
husbandman, if he does take care of it, invites
him to exercise care. When children are at-
tractive and lively, whom do they not invite to
play with them, and crawl with them, and
lisp with them ? But who is eager to play with
an ass or to bray with it? for though it is
small, it is still a little ass.

“Why then do you say nothing to me?” I
can only say this to you, that he who knows
not who he is, and for what purpose he exists,
and what is this world, and with whom he is
associated, and what things are the good and
the bad, and the beautiful and the ugly, and
who neither understands discourse nor dem-
onstration, nor what is true nor w'hat is false,
and who is not able to distinguish them, will
neither desire according to nature, nor turn
away, nor move iipw^ard, nor intend, nor as-
sent, nor dissent, nor suspend his judgment:
to say all in a few words, he will go about
dumb and blind, thinking that he is some-
body, but being nobody. Is this so now for the
first time? Is it not the fact that, ever since the
human race existed, all errors and misfortunes
have arisen through this ignorance? Why did
Agamemnon and Achilles quarrel with one
another? Was it not through not knowing
what things are profitable and not profitable?
Does not the one say it is profitable to restore
Chryscis to her father, and does not the other
say that it is not profitable? does not the one
say that he ought to take the prize of another,
and docs not the other say that he ought not?
Did they not for these reaso^ forget both who
they were and for what purpose they had
come there? Oh, man, for what purpose did
you come? to gain mistresses or to fight? “To

174 EPICTETUS

fight,*' With whom? the Trojans or the Hel- demonstrative form of speech. This was

lencs? “With the Trojans.” Do you then leave
Hector alone and draw your sword against
your own king? And do you, most excellent
Sir, neglect the duties of the king, you who
are the people’s guardian and have such cares;
and are you quarreling about a little girl with
the most warlike of your allies, whom you
ought by every means to take care of and
protect? and do you become worse than a
well-behaved priest who treats you these fine
gladiators with all respect? Do you see what
kind of things ignorance of what is profitable
does?

“But I also am rich.” Are you then richer
than Agamemnon? “But I am also hand-
some.” Are you then more handsome than
Achilles? “But I have also beautiful hair.” But
had not Achilles more beautiful hair and gold-
colored? and he did not comb it elegantly nor
dress it. “But I am also strong.” Can you then
lift so great a stone as Hector or Ajax? “But
I am also of noble birth.” Are you the son of
a goddess mother? are you the son of a father
sprung from Zeus? What good then do these
things do to him, when he sits and weeps for
a girl? “But I am an orator,” And was he not?
Do you not sec how he handled the most skill-
ful of the Hellenes in oratory, Odysseus and
Phoenix? how he stopped their mouths?^*

This is all that I have to say to you; and I
say even this not willingly. “Why?” Because
you have not roused me. For what must I look
to in order to be roused, as men who are ex-
pert in riding are roused by generous horses?
Must I look to your body? You treat it dis-
gracefully. To your dress? That is luxurious.
To your behaviour, to your look? That is the
same as nothing. When you would listen to a
philosopher, do not say to him, “You tell me
nothing”; but only show yourself worthy of
hearing or fit for hearing; and you will sec
how you will move the speaker.

Chapter 25. That logic is necessary^

When one of those who were present said,
“Persuade me that logic is necessary,” he re-
plied: Do you wish me to prove this to you?
The answer was, “Yes.” Then I must use a

^ Homer, Iliads ix.

* See L 17.

granted. How then will you know if I am
cheating you by argument? The man was si-
lent. Do you see, said Epictetus, that you your-
self are admitting that logic is necessary, if
without it you cannot know so much as this,
whether logic is necessary or not necessary?

Chapter 26. What is the property of error
Every error comprehends contradiction: for
since he who errs docs not wish to err, but to
be right, it is plain that he docs not do what he
wishes. For what docs the thief wish to do?
That which is for his own interest. If, then, the
theft is not for his interest, he docs not do that
which he wishes. But every rational soul is by
nature offended at contradiction, and so long
as it does not understand this contradiction, it
is not hindered from doing contradictory
things: but when it docs understand the con-
tradiction, it must of necessity avoid the con-
tradiction and avoid it as much as a man must
dissent from the false when he sees that a thing
is false; but so long as this falsehood does not
appear to him, he assents to it as to truth.

He, then, is strong in argument and has the
faculty of exhorting and confuting, who is able
to show to each man the corjwadiction through
which he errs and clearly to prove how he docs
not do that which he wishes and docs that
which he docs not wish. For if any one shall
show this, a man will himself withdraw from
that which he docs; but so long as you do not
show this, do not be surprised if a man per-
sists in his practice; for having the appearance
of doing right, he docs what he does. For this
reason Socrates, also trusting to this power,
used to say, “I am used to call no other wit-
ness of what I say, but I am always satisfied
with him with whom I am discussing, and I
ask him to give his opinion and call him as a
witness, and though he is only one, he is suffi-
cient in the place of all.” For Socrates knew
by what the rational soul is moved, just like
a pair of scales, and that it must incline,
whether it chooses or not. Show the rational
governing faculty a contradiction, and it will
withdraw from it; but if you do not show it,
rather blame yourself than him who is not per-
suaded

* Marcus Aurelius, v. 28; x. 4.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

175

•BOOK THREE •

Chapter i. Of finery in dress
A CERTAIN young man a rhetorician came to
sec Epictetus, with his hair dressed more care-
fully than was usual and his attire in an orna-
mental style; whereupon Epictetus said: Tell
me if you do not think that some dogs arc
beautiful and some horses, and so of all other
animals. “I do think so,** the youth replied.
Are not then some men also beautiful and
others ugly? “Certainly.** Do we, then, for the
same reason call each of them in the same kind
beautiful, or each beautiful for something pe-
culiar? And you will judge of this matter thus.
Since we sec a dog naturally formed for one
thing, and a horse for another, and for an-
other still, as an example, a nightingale, we
may generally and not improperly declare each
of them to be beautiful then when it is most
excellent according to its nature; but since the
nature of each is different, each of them seems
to me to be beautiful in a different way. Is it
not so? He admitted that it was. That then
which makes a dog beautiful, makes a horse
ugly; and that which makes a horse beautiful,
makes a dog ugly, if it is true that their na-
tures are different. “It seems to be so.** For I
think that what makes a pancratiast beautiful,
makes a wrestler to lx: not good, and a runner
to be most ridiculous; and he who is beautiful
for the Pentathlon, is very ugly lor wrestling.^
“It is so,** said he. What, then, makes a man
beautiful? Is it that which in its kind makes
both a dog and a horse beautiful? “It is,** he
said. What then makes a dog beautiful? The
possession of the excellence of a dog. And what
makes a horse beautiful? The possession of
the excellence of a horse. What then makes a
man beautiful? Is it not the possession of the
excellence of a man? And do you, then, if you
wish to be beautiful, young man, labour at
this, the acquisition of human excellence. But
what is this? Observe whom you yourself
praise, when you praise many persons without
partiality: do you praise the just or the un-
just? “The just.” Whether do you praise the
^ Compare Aristotle, Rhetoric, i. 5.

moderate or the immoderate? “The moder-
ate.” And the temperate or the intemperate?
“The temperate.** If, then, you make yourself
such a person, you will know that you will
make yourself beautiful: but so long as you
neglect these things, you must be ugly, even
though you contrive all you can to appear
beautiful.

Further I do not know what to say to you:
for if I say to you what I think, I shall offend
you, and you will perhaps leave the school and
not return to it: and if I do not say what I
think, see how I shall be acting, if you come to
me to be imprbved, and I shall not improve
you at all, and if you come to me as to a philos-
opher, and I shall say nothing to you as a
philosopher. And how cruel it is to you to
leave you uncorrected. If at any time after-
ward you shall acquire sense, you will with
good reason blame me and say, “What did
Epictetus observe in me that, when he saw me
in such a plight coming to him in such a scan-
dalous condition, he neglected me and never
said a word? did he so much despair of me?
was I not young? was I not able to listen to
reason? and how many other young men at
this age commit many like errors? I hear that
a certain Polemon from lx:ing a most dissolute
youth underwent such a great change. Well,
sup|X)se that he did not think that I should be
a Polemon;^ yet he might have set my hair
right, he might have stripped olT my decora-
tions, he might have slopped me from pluck-
ing the hair out of my body; but when he saw
me dressed like — what shall I say? — he kept
silent.” I do not say like what; but you will
say, when you come to your senses and shall
know what it is and what persons use such a
dicss.

If you bring this charge against me here-
after, what defense shall I make? Why, shall
I say that the man will not be persuaded by
me? Was Laius persuaded b^, Apollo? Did he
not go away and get drunk'^and show no care
for the oracle? Well then, for this reason did

*Scc iv. 11.

176 EPICTETUS

Apollo refuse to tell him the truth? I indeed
do not know, whether you will be persuaded
by me or not; but Apollo knew most certainly
that Laius would not be persuaded and yet he
spoke. But why did he speak? I say in reply:
But why is he Apollo, and why docs he deliver
oracles, and why has he fixed himself in this
place as a prophet and source of truth and for
the inhabitants of the world to resort to him?
and why arc the words “Know yourself*
written in front of the temple, though no per-
son takes any notice of them?

Did Socrates persuade all his hearers to take
care of themselves? Not the thousandth part.
But, however, after he had been placed in this
position by the deity, as he himself says, he
never left it. But what does he say even to his
judges? “If you acquit me on these conditions
that I no longer do that which I do now, I
will not consent and I will not desist; but I
will go up both to young and to old, and, to
speak plainly, to every man whom I meet, and
I will ask the questions which I ask now; and
most particularly will I do this to you my fel-
low-citizens, because you are more nearly re-
lated to mc.*’^ Are you so curious, Socrates,
and such a busybody? and how does it con-
cern you how we act? and what is it that you
say? “Being of the same community and of
the same kin, you neglect yourself, and show
yourself a bad citizen to the state, and a bad
kinsman to your kinsmen, and a bad neighbor
to your neighbors.” “Who, then arc you?”
Here it is a great thing to say, “I am he whose
duty it is to take care of men; for it is not
every little heifer which dares to resist a lion;
but if the bull comes up and resists him, say
to the bull, if you choose, ‘And who arc you,
and what business have you here?* ” Man, in
every kind there is produced something which
excels; in oxen, in dogs, in bees, in horses.
Do not then say to that which excels, “Who,
then, arc you?” If you do, it will find a
voice in some way and say, “I am such a
thing as the purple in a garment: do not ex-
pect me to be like the others, or blame my na-
ture that it has made me different from the
rest of men.”

What then? am I such a man? Certainly
not. And are you such a man as can listen to

* Plato, Apology, 30.

the truth? I wish you were. But however since
in a manner I have been condemned to wear
a white beard and a cloak, and you come to
me as to a philosopher, I will not treat you in
a cruel way nor yet as if I despaired of you,
but I will say: Young man, whom do you wish
to make beautiful? In the first place, know
who you arc and then adorn yourself appro-
priately. You are a human being; and this is
a mortal animal which has the power of using
appearances rationally. But what is meant by
“rationally?” Conformably to nature and com-
pletely. What, then, do you possess which is
peculiar? Is it the animal part? No. Is it the
condition of mortality? No. Is it the power of
using appearances? No. You possess the ra-
tional faculty as a peculiar thing: adorn and
beautify this; but leave your hair to him who
made it as he chose. Come, what other appella-
tions have you? Arc you man or woman?
“Man.” Adorn yourself then as man, not as
woman. Woman is naturally smooth and deli-
cate; and if she has much hair (on her body),
she is a monster and is exhibited at Rome
among monsters. And in a man it is monstrous
not to have hair; and if he has no hair, he is
a monster; but if he cuts off his hairs and
plucks them out, what shall do with him?
where shall we exhibit him? and under what
name shall we show him? “I will exhibit to
you a man who chooses to be a woman rather
than a man.’* What a terrible sight! There is
no man who will not wonder at such a notice.
Indeed I think that the men who pluck out
their hairs do what they do without knowing
what they do. Man what fault have you to find
with your nature? That it made you a man?
What then? was it fit that nature should make
all human creatures women? and what advan-
tage in that case would you have had in being
adorned? for whom would yo^ have adorned
yourself, if all human creature! were women?
But you are not pleased withfthc matter: set
to work then upon the whole jbusi ness. Take
away — what is its name? — thit which is the
cause of the hairs: make yourself a woman in
all respects, that we may not be mistaken: do
not make one half man, and the other half
woman. Whom do you wish to please? The
women? Please them as a man. “Well; but
they like smooth men.” Will you not hang

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

yourself? and if women took delight in cata-
mites, would you become one? Is this your
business? were you born for this purpose, that
dissolute women should delight in you? Shall
we make such a one as you a citizen of Cor-
inth and perchance a prefect of the city, or
chief of the youth, or general or superinten-
dent of the games? Well, and when you have
taken a wife, do you intend to have your hairs
plucked out? To please whom and for what
purpose? And when you have begotten chil-
dren, will you introduce them also into the
state with the habit of plucking their hairs? A
beautiful citizen, and senator and rhetorician.
We ought to pray that such young men be
born among us and brought up.

Do not so, I entreat you by the Gods, young
man: but when you have once heard these
words, go away and say to yourself, “Epictetus
has not said this to me; for how could he? but
some propitious God through him: for it
W'ould never have come into his thoughts to
say this, since he is not accustomed to talk thus
with any person. Come then let us obey God,
that we may not be subject to his anger.” You
say, “No.” But, if a crow by his croaking sig-
nifies anything to you, it is not the crow which
signifies, but God through the crow; and if he
signifies anything through a human voice, will
he not cause the man to say this to you, that
you may know the power of the divinity, that
he signifies to some in this way, and to others
in that way, and concerning the greatest
things and the chief he signifies through the
noblest messenger? What else is it which the
poet says:

For we ourselves have warned him, and have sent
Hermes the careful watcher, Argus^ slayer.

The husband not to kill nor wed the wife}

Was Hermes going to descend from heaven to
say this to him? And now the Gods say this
to you and send the messenger, the slayer of
Argus, to warn you not to pervert that which
is well arranged, nor to busy yourself about it,
but to allow a man to be a man, and a woman
to be a woman, a beautiful man to be as a
beautiful man, and an ugly man as an ugly
man, for you are not 0esh and hair, but you
are will; and if your will is beautiful, then you
will be beautiful. But up to the present time I

* Homer, Odyssey, i. 37.

dare not tell you that you are ugly, for I think
that you are readier to hear anything than
this. But see what Socrates says to the most
beautiful and blooming of men Alcibiades:
“Try, then, to be beautiful.” What does he say
to him ? “Dress your hair and pluck the hairs
from your legs.” Nothing of that kind. But
“Adorn your will, take away bad opinions.”
“How with the body?” Leave it as it is by na-
ture. Another has looked after these things:
intrust them to him. “What then, must a man
be uncleaned?” Certainly not; but what you
are and are made by nature, cleanse this. A
man should be cleanly as a man, a woman as
a woman, a child as a child. You say no: but
let us also pluck out the lion’s mane, that he
may not be uncleaned, and the cock’s comb
for he also ought to be cleaned. Granted, but
as a cock, and die lion as a lion, and the hunt-
ing dog as a hunting dog.

Chapter 2. In what a man ought to be exer-
cised who has made proficiency; and that we
neglect the chief things
There are three things in which a man ought
to exercise himself who would be wise and
good. The first concerns the desires and the
aversions, that a man may not fail to get what
he desires, and that he may not fall into that
which he does not desire.* The second con-
cerns the movements (toward) and the move-
ments from an object, and generally in doing
what a man ought to do, that he may act ac-
cording to order, to reason, and not carelessly.
The third thing concerns freedom from decep-
tion and rashness in judgement, and generally
it concerns the assents. Of these topics the chief
and the most urgent is that which relates to
the affects; for an affect is produced in no
other way than by a failing to obtain that
which a man desires or a falling into that
which a man would wish to avoid. This is that
which brings in perturbations, disorders, bad
fortune, misfortunes, sorrows, lamentations
and envy; that which makes men envious and
jealous; and by these causes we are unable even
to listen to the precepts of reason. The second
topic concerns the duties of a ^an; for I ought
not to be free from affects like a statue, but I
ought to maintain the relations natural and ac-
* Marcus Aurelius, xi. 37.

178 EPICTETUS

quired, as a pious man, as a son, as a father, not plain that you value not at all your own

as a citizen.

The third topic is that which immediately
concerns those who are making proficiency,
that which concerns the security of the other
two, so that not even in sleep any appearance
unexamined may surprise us, nor in intoxica-
tion, nor in melancholy. “This,” it may be
said, “is above our power.” But the present
philosophers neglecting the first topic and the
second, employ themselves on the third, using
sophistical arguments, making conclusions
from questioning, employing hypotheses, ly-
ing. “For a man must,” as it is said, “when
employed on these matters, take care that he
is not deceived.” Who must? The wise and
good man. This then is all that is wanting to
you. Have you successfully worked out the
rest? Are you free from deception in the mat-
ter of money? If you see a beautiful girl, do
you resist the appearance? If your neighbor
obtains an estate by will, arc you not vexed?
Now is there nothing else wanting to you ex-
cept unchangeable firmness of mind? Wretch,
you hear these very things with fear and anxi-
ety that some person may despise you, and
with inquiries about what any person may say
about you. And if a man come and tell you
that in a certain conversation in which the
question was, “Who is the best philosopher,”
a man who was present said that a certain per-
son was the chief philosopher, your little soul
which was only a finger’s length stretches out
to two cubits. But if another who is present
says, “You are mistaken; it is not worth while
to listen to a certain person, for what docs he
know? he has only the first principles, and no
more?” then you are confounded, you grow
pale, you cry out immediately, “I will show
him who I am, that I am a great philosopher.”
It is seen by these very things: why do you
wish to show it by others? Do you not know
that Diogenes pointed out one of the sophists
in this way by stretching out his middle fin-
ger? And then when the man was wild with
rage, “This,” he said, “is the certain person:
I have pointed him out to you.” For a man is
not shown by the finger, as a stone or a piece
of wood: but when any person shows the
man’s principles, then he shows him as a man.

Let us look at your principles also. For is it

will, but you look externally to things which
are independent of your will? For instance,
what will a certain person say? and what will
people think of you? will you be considered
a man of learning; have you read Chrysippus
or Antipater? for if you have read Arche-
demus^ also, you have everything. Why are
you still uneasy lest you should not show us
who you are ? Would you let me tell you what
manner of man you have shown us that you
arc? You have exhibited yourself to us as a
mean fellow, querulous, passionate, cowardly,
finding fault with everything, blaming every-
body, never quiet, vain: this is what you
have exhibited to us. Go away now and read
Archedemus; then, if a mouse should leap
down and make a noise, you arc a dead man.
For such a death awaits you as it did —
what was the man’s name? — Crinis; and he
too was proud, because he understood Arche-
demus.

Wretch, will you not dismiss these things
that do not concern you at all? These things
are suitable to those who arc able to learn
them without [perturbation, to those who can
say: “I am not subject to anger, to grief, to
envy: I am not hindered, I am not restrained.
What remains for me? I have leisure, I am
tranquil: let us see how we must deal with
sophistical arguments; let us sec how when a
man has accepted an hypothesis he shall not be
led away to anything absurd.” To them such
things belong. To those who are hafppy it is
appropriate to light a fire, to dine; if they
choose, both to sing and to dance. But when
the vessel is sinking, you come to me and hoist
the sails.

Chapter 3. What is the matter on which a

good man should be employed, and in what

we ought chiefly to practice ourselves
The material for the wise and good man is his
own ruling faculty: and the Ijody is the ma-
terial for the physician and the aliptes;’ the
land is the matter for the husbandman. The
business of the wise and good man is to use
appearances conformably to nature: and as it
is the nature of every soul to assent to the

^ See ii, 4.

> The man who nils persons.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

truth, to dissent from the false, and to remain
in suspense as to that which is uncertain; so
it is its nature to be moved toward the desire
of the good, and to aversion from the evil; and
with respect to that which is neither good nor
bad it feels indifferent. For as the money-
changer is not allowed to reject Csesar's coin,
nor the seller of herbs, but if you show the
coin, whether he chooses or not, he must give
up what is sold for the coin; so it is also in the
matter of the soul. When the good appears, it
immediately attracts to itself; the evil repels
from itself. But the soul will never reject the
manifest appearance of the good, any more
than persons will reject Caesar's coin. On this
principle dcfiends every movement both of
man and God.‘

For this reason the good is preferred to every
intimate relationship. There is no intimate re-
lationship between me and my father, but
there is between me and the good. “Arc you
so hard-hearted.''*’ ics, lor such is my nature;
and this is the coin which Cj(xJ has given me.
For this reason, if the good is something dif-
ferent from the beautiful and the just, both
father is gone, and brother and country, and
everything. But shall 1 overlook my own good,
in order that you may have it, and shall I give
it up to you? Why? “I am your father." But
you are not my good. “I am your brother."
But you arc not my good. But if we place the
good in a right determination of the will, the
very observance of the relations of life is good,
and accordingly he who gives up any external
things obtains th.it whi^h is good. Your father
takes away your property. But he docs not in-
jure you. Your brother will have the greater
part of the estate in land. Let him have as
much as he chooses. Will he then have a great-
er share of modesty, of fidelity, of brotherly
affection? For who will eject you from this
possession? Not even Zeus, for neither has he
chosen to do so; but he has made this in my
own power, and he has given it to me just as
he possessed it himself, free from hindrance,
compulsion, and impediment. When then the
coin which another uses is a different coin, if
a man presents this, coin, he receives that
which is sold for it. Suppose that there comes
into the province a thievish proconsul, what

‘ Compare i. 19.

coin docs he use? Silver coin. Show it to him,
and carry off what you please. Suppose one
comes who is an adulterer: what coin docs he
use? Little girls. “Take," a man says, “the
coin, and sell me the small thing.” “Give,”
says the seller, “and buy.” Another is eager to
possess boys. Give him the coin, and receive
what you wish. Another is fond of hunting:
give him a fine nag or a dog. Though he
groans and laments, he will sell for it that
which you want. For another compels him
from within, he who has fixed this coin.*

Against this kind of thing chiefly a man
should exercise himself. As soon as you go out
in the morning, examine every man whom
you sec, every man whom you hear; answer
as to a question, “What have you seen?” A
handsome man or ‘woman? Apply the rule: Is
this independent of the will, or dependent?
Independent. Take it away. What have you
seen? A man lamenting over the death of a
child. Apply the rule. Death is a thing inde-
pendent of the will. Take it away. Has the
proconsul met you? Apply the rule. What
kind of thing is a proconsul's office? Inde-
pendent of the will, or dependent on it? In-
dependent. Take this away also: it docs not
stand examination: cast it away: it is nothing
to you.

If we practiced this and exercised ourselves
in it daily from morning to night, something
indeed would be done. But now we are forth-
with caught half-asleep by every' apjxrarancc,
and it is only, if ever, that in the school we
are roused a little. Then when w'c go out, if we
sec a man lamenting, we say, “He is undone.”
If we see a consul, we say, “He is happy.” If
we sec an exiled man, we say, “He is miser-
able.” If we see a poor man, we say, “He is
wretched: he has nothing to eat.”

We ought then to eradicate these bad opin-
ions, and to this end we should direct all our
efforts. For what is weeping and lamenting?
Opinion. What is bad fortune? Opinion.
What is civil sedition, what is divided opin-
ion, what is blame, what is accusation, what
is impiety, what is trifling? All these things
arc opinions, and nothing ip^re, and opinions
about things indcj-Jcndent 'of the will, as if
they were good and bad. Let a man transfer

* Compare Rom. 7. 21-23.

i8o EPICTETUS

these opinions to things dependent on the will,
and I engage for him that he will be firm and
constant, whatever may be the state of things
around him. Such as is a dish of water, such
is the soul. Such as is the ray of light which
falls on the water, such are the appearances.
When the water is moved, the ray also seems
to be moved, yet it is not moved. And when,
then, a man is seized with giddiness, it is not
the arts and the virtues which are confounded,
but the spirit on which they are impressed;
but if the spirit be restored to its settled state,
those things also are restored.

Chapter 4. Against a person who showed his
partisanship in an unseemly way in a theatre
The governor of Epirus having shown his
favor to an actor in an unseemly way and be-
ing publicly blamed on this account, and after-
ward having reported to Epictetus that he was
blamed and that he was vexed at those who
blamed him, Epictetus said: What harm have
they been doing? These men also were acting
as partisans, as you were doing. The governor
replied, “Docs, then, any person show his par-
tisanship in this way?” When they see you,
said Epictetus, who are their governor, a
friend of Cxsar and his deputy, showing par-
tisanship in this way, was it not to be expected
that they also should show their partisanship
in the same way? for if it is not right to show
partisanship in this way, do hot do so yourself;
and if it is right, why are you angry if they
followed your example? For whom have the
many to imitate except you, who arc their su-
periors? to whose example should they look
when they go to the theatre except yours?
“Sec how the deputy of Cxsar looks on: he has
cried out, and I too, then, will cry out. He
springs up from his seat, and I will spring up.
His slaves sit in various parts of the theatre
and call out. I have no slaves, but I will myself
cry out as much as I can and as loud as all of
them together.” You ought then to know
when you enter the theatre that you enter as
a rule and example to the rest how they ought
to look at the acting. Why then did they blame
you? Because every man hates that which is
a hindrance to him. They wished one person
to be crowned; you wished another. They were
a hindrance to you, and you were a hindrance

to them. You were found to be the stronger;
and they did what they could; they blamed
that which hindered them. What, then, would
you have? That you should do what you
please, and they should not even say what
they please? And what is the wonder? Do not
the husbandmen abuse Zeus when they are
hindered by him? do not the sailors abuse
him? do they ever cease abusing Carsar? What
then? docs not Zeus know? is not what is said
reported to Caesar? What, then, does he do?
he knows that, if he punished all who abuse
him, he would have nobody to rule over. What
then? when you enter the theatre, you ought
to say not, “Let Sophron be crowned,” but you
ought to say this, “Come let me maintain my
will in this matter so that it shall be conforn^
able to nature: no man is dearer to me than
myself. It would l>c ridiculous, then, for me to
be hurt (injured) in order that another who
is an actor may be crowned.” Whom then do
I wish to gain the prize? Why the actor who
does gain the prize; and so he will always gain
the prize whom I wish to gain it. “But I wish
Sophron to be crowned.” C^'lebrate as many
games as you choose in your own house, Nem-
can, Pythian, Isthmian, Olympian, and pro-
claim him victor. But in public do not claim
more than your due, nor attempt to appropri-
ate to yourself what belongs to all. If you do
not consent to this, bear being abused: for
when you do the same as the many, you put
yourself on the same level with them.

Chapter 5. Against those who on account of
sief^ness go away home
“I AM sick here,” said one of the pupils, “and
I wish to return home.” At home, I suppose,
you were free from sickness. EXo you not con-
sider whether you are doing anything here
which may be useful to the exercise of your
will, that it may be corrected? .For if you arc
doing nothing toward this end, it was to no
purpose that you came. Go awiay. Look after
your affairs at home. For if your ruling power
cannot be maintained in a state conformable
to nature, it is possible that your land can, that
you will be able to increase your money, you
will take care of your father in his old age,
frequent the public place, hold magisterial of-
fice. being bad you will do badly anything else

DISCOURSES, BOOK III i8i

that you have to do. But if you understand
yourself) and know that you are casting away
certain bad opinions and adopting others in
their place, and if you have changed your state
of life from things which are not within your
will to things which are within your will, and
if you ever say, “Alas!** you arc not saying
what you say on account of your father, or
your brother, but on account of yourself, do
you still allege your sickness? Do you not
know that both disease and death must sur-
prise us while we are doing something? the
husbandman while he is tilling the ground,
the sailor while he is on his voyage? what
would you be doing when death surprises you,
for you must be surprised when you arc doing
something? If you can be doing anything bet-
ter than this when you are surprised, do it.
For I wish to be surprised by disease or death
when I am looking after nothing else than my
own will, that I n>nv be free from perturbation,
that 1 may be free from hindrance, free from
compulsion, and in a state of liberty. I wish to
be found practicing these things that I may be
able to say to God, “Have I in any respect
transgressed thy commands? have I in any re-
spect wrongly used the powers which Thou
gavest me? have I misused my perceptions or
my preconceptions ? ‘ have I ever blamed Thee?
have I ever found fault with Thy administra-
tion? I have been sick, because it was Thy
will, and so have others, but I was content to
be sick. I have been poor because it was Thy
will, but I was content also. I have not filled
a magisterial office, because it was not Thy
pleasure that I should: I have never desired it.
Hast Thou ever seen me for this reason dis-
contented? have 1 not always approached
Thee with a cheerful countenance, ready to do
Thy commands and to obey Thy signals ? Is it
now Thy will that I should depart from the
assemblage of men? I depart. I give Thee all
thanks that Thou hast allowed me to join in
this Thy assemblage of men and to see Thy
works, and to comprehend this Thy adminis-
tration.’* May death surprise me while I am
thinking of these things, while I am thus
writing and reading. ^

“But my mother will not hold my head
when I am sick.” Go to your mother then; for
^See L a.

you are a fit person to have your head held
when you are sick. “But at home I used to lie
down on a delicious bed.” Go away to your
bed: indeed you are fit to lie on such a bed
even when you are in health: do not, then, lose
what you can do there.

But what does Socrates say?* “As one man,”
he says, “is pleased with improving his land,
another with improving his horse, so I am
daily pleased in observing that I am growing
better.” “Better in what? in using nice little
words?” Man, do not say that. “In little mat-
ters of speculation?” What are you saying?
“And indeed I do not sec what else there is on
which philosophers employ their time.” Does
it seem nothing to you to have never found
fault with any person, neither with God nor
man? to have blamed nobody? to carry the
same face always in going out and coming in?
This is what Socrates knew, and yet he never
said that he knew anything or taught any-
thing. But if any man asked for nice litde
words or little speculations, he would carry
him to Protagoras or to Hippias; and if any
man came to ask (or pot-herbs, be would carry
him to the gardener. Who then among you has
this purpose? for if indeed you had it, you
would both be content in sickness, and in
hunger, and in death. If any among you has
been in love with a charming girl, he knows
that I say what is true.

Chapter 6. Miscellaneous
When some person asked him how it hap-
pened that since reason has been more culti-
vated by the men of the present age, the prog-
ress made in former times was greater. In
what respect, he answered, has it been more
cultivated now, and in what respect was the
progress greater then? For in that in which it
has now been more cultivated, in that also the
progress will now be found. At present it has
been cultivated for the purpose of resolving
syllogisms, and progress is made. But in former
times it was cultivated for the purpose of main-
taining the governing faculty in a condition
conformable to nature, and progress was made.
Do not, then, mix things ^ich are di&rent
and do not expect, when you are laboring at
one thing, to make progress in another. But
s Marcus Aurelius, viii, 43.

i 82 EPICTETUS

see if any man among us when he is intent do with the things in cities. For that there arc

upon this, the keeping himself in a state con-
formable to nature and living so always, does
not make progress. For you will not find such
a man.

The good man is invincible, for he does not
enter the contest where he is not stronger. If
you want to have his land and all that is on it,
take the land; take his slaves, take his magis-
terial office, take his poor body. But you will not
make his desire fail in that which it seeks, nor
his aversion fall into that which he would avoid.
The only contest into which he enters is that
about things which are within the power of
his will; how then will he not be invincible.?

Some person having asked him what is
Common sense, Epictetus replied: As that
may be called a certain Common hearing
which only distinguishes vocal sounds, and
that which distinguishes musical sounds is not
Common, but artificial; so there are certain
things which men, who arc not altogether
perverted, sec by the common notions which
all possess. Such a constitution of the mind is
named Common sense.

It is not easy to exhort weak young men; for
neither is it easy to hold cheese with a hook%
But those who have a good natural disposi-
tion, even if you try to turn them aside, cling
still more to reason. Wherefore Rufus general-
ly attempted to discourage, and he used this
method as a test of those who had a good natu-
ral disposition and those who had not. “For,”
it was his habit to say, “as a stone, if you cast
it upward, will be brought down to the earth
by its own nature, so the man whose mind is
naturally good, the more you repel him, the
more he turns toward that to which he is natu-
rally inclined.”

Chapter 7. To the administrator of the free

cities who was an Epicurean
When the administrator came to visit him,
and the man was an Epicurean, Epictetus said:
It is proper for us who are not philosophers to
inquire of you who arc philosophers, as those
who come to a strange city inquire of the citi-
zens and those who are acquainted with it,
what is the best thing in the world, in order
that we also, after inquiry, may go in quest of
that which is best and look at it, as strangers

three things which relate to man, soul, body,
and things external, scarcely any man denies.
It remains for you philosophers to answer
what is the best. What shall we say to men?
Is the flesh the best? and was it for this that
Maximus sailed as far as Cassiope in winter
with his son, and accompanied him that he
might be gratified in the flesh? Then the man
said that it was not, and added, “Far be that
from him.” Is it not fit then, Epictetus said, to
be actively employed about the best? “It is cer-
tainly of all things the most fit.” What, then,
do we possess which is better than the flesh?
“The soul,” he replied. And the good things
of the best, arc they belter, or the good things
of the worse? “The good things of the best.”
And are the good things of the best within the
power of the will or not within the power of
the will? “They are within the power of the
will.” Is, then, the pleasure of the soul a thing
within the power of the will? “It is,” he re-
plied. And on what shall this pleasure de-
pend? On itself? But that cannot be conceived:
for there must first exist a certain substance or
nature of good, by obtaining which we shall
have pleasure in the soul. He assented to this
also. On what, then, shall we'Ticpcnd for this
pleasure of the soul? for if it shall depend on
things of the soul, the substance of the good
is discovered; for good cannot be one thing,
and that at which we arc rationally delighted
another thing; nor if that which precedes is
not good, can that which comes after lx* good,
for in order that the thing which comes after
may be good, that which precedes must be
good. But you would not affirm this, if you arc
in your right mind, for you would then say
what is inconsistent both with Epicurus and
the rest of your doctrines. It remains, then,
that the pleasure of the soul is in the pleasure
from things of the body: and again that those
bodily things must be the things which precede
and the substance of the good.

For this reason Maximus acted foolishly if
he made the voyage for any other reason than
for the sake of the flesh, that is, for the sake
of the best. And also a man acts foolishly if he
abstains from that which belongs to others,
when he is a judge and able to take it. But, if
you please, let us consider this only, how this

DISCOURSES, BOOK III 183

thing may be done secretly, and safely, and so
that no man will know it. For not even does
Epicurus himself declare stealing to be bad,
but he admits that detection is; and because it
is impossible to have security against detec-
tion, for this reason he says, “Do not steal.”
But I say to you that if stealing is done cleverly
and cautiously, we shall not be detected: fur-
ther also we have powerful friends in Rome
both men and women, and the Hellenes are
weak, and no man will venture to go up to
Rome for the purpose. Why do you refrain
from your own good? This is senseless, fool-
ish. But even if you tell me that you do re-
frain, I will not believe you. For as it is im-
possible to assent to that which appears false,
and to turn away from that which is true, so
it is impossible to abstain from that which ap-
pears good. But wealth is a good thing, and
certainly most efficient in producing pleasure.
Why will you r*ni •r?:juirc wealth? And why
should we not corrupt our neighbor’s wife, if
we can do it without detection? and if the
husband foolishly prates about the matter,
why not pitch him out of the house? If you
would be a philosopher such as you ought to
be, if a perfect philosopher, if consistent with
your own doctrines. If you would not, you
will not differ at all from us who arc called
Stoics; for wc also say one thing, but we do
another: wc talk of the things which arc beau-
tiful, but we do what is base. But you will be
perverse in the contrary way, teaching what is
bad, practicing what is good.

In the name of God,* arc you thinking of a
city of Epicureans? “I do not marry.” “Nor I,
for a man ought not to marry; nor ought wc
to beget children, nor engage in public mat-
ters.” What then will happen ? whence will the
citizens come? who will bring them up? who
will be governor of the youth, who preside
over gymnastic exercises? and in what also
will the teacher instruct them? will he teach
them what the Lacedxmonians were taught,
or what the Athenians were taught? Come
take a young man, bring him up according to
your doctrines. The doctrines arc bad, sub-
versive of a state, pernicious to families, and
not becoming to women. Dismiss them, man.
You live in a chief city: it is your duty to be

* Compare Euripides, Cyclops^ 333; sec Epictetus, i. 23.

a magistrate, to judge justly, to abstain from
that which belongs to others; no woman ought
to seem beautiful to you except your own wife,
and no youth, no vessel of silver, no vessel of
gold. Seek for doctrines which are consistent
with what I say, and, by making them your
guide, you will with pleasure abstain from
things which have such persuasive power to
lead us and overpower us. But if to the per-
suasive power of these things, wc also devise
such a philosophy as this which helps to push
us on toward them and strengthens us to this
end, what will be the consequence? In a piece
of toreutic art which is the best part? the sil-
ver or the workmanship? The substance of
the hand is the flesh; but the work of the hand
is the principal part. The duties then are also
three; those which are directed toward the ex-
istence of a thing; those which are directed
toward its existence in a particular kind; and
third, the chief or leading things themselves.
So also in man we ought not to value the ma-
terial, the poor flesh, but the principal. What
arc these? Engaging in public business, marry-
ing, begetting children, venerating God, tak-
ing care of parents, and, generally, having de-
sires, aversions, pursuits of things and avoid-
ances, in the way in which we ought to do
these things, and according to our nature. And
how arc wc constituted by nature? Free, noble,
modest: for what other animal blushes? what
other is capable of receiving the appearance of
shame? and wc are so constituted by nature as
to subject pleasure to these things, as a minis-
ter, a servant, in order that it may call forth
our activity, in order that it may keep us con-
stant in acts which are conformable to nature.

“But I am rich and I want nothing.” Why,
then, do you pretend to be a philosopher?
Your golden and your silver vessels are enough
for you. What need have you of principles?
“But I am also a judge of the Greeks.” Do you
know how to judge? Who taught you to
know.J^ “Cxsar wrote to me a codicil.” Let him
write and give you a commission to judge of
music; and what will be the use of it to you?
Still how did you become a judge? whose
hand did you kiss? the baud' of Symphorus or
Numcnius? Before whose bedchamber have
you slept?* To whom have you sent gifts?

* Compare i. lo.

EPICTETUS

184

Then do you not see that to be a judge is just
of the same value as Numenius is? '*But I can
throw into prison any man whom I please.’*
So you can do with a stone. “But I can beat
with sticks whom I please.*’ So you may an ass.
This is not a governing of men. Govern us as
rational animals; show us what is profitable to
us, and we will follow it: show us what is un-
profitable, and we will turn away from it.
Make us imitators of yourself, as Socrates
made men imitators of himself. For he was
like a governor of men, who made them sub-
ject to him their desires, their aversion, their
movements toward an object and their turning
away from it. “Do this: do not do this; if you
do not obey, I will throw you into prison.”
This is not governing men like rational ani-
mals. But I: As Zeus has ordained, so act: if
you do not act so, you will feel the penalty,
you will be punished. What will be the pun-
ishment? Nothing else than not having done
your duty: you will lose the character of fideU
ity, modesty, propriety. Do not look for great-
er penalties than these.

Chapter 8. How we must exercise ourselves
against appearances

As we exercise ourselves against sophistical
questions, so we ought to exercise ourselves
daily against appearances; for these appear-
ances also propose questions to us. “A certain
person’s son is dead.” Answer: the thing is
not within the power of the will: it is not an
evil. “A father has disinherited a ceruin son.
What do you think of it?” It is a thing beyond
the power of the will, not an evil. “Csesar has
condemned a person.” It is a thing beyond the
power of the will, not an evil. “The man is
afSicted at this.” Affliction is a thing which de-
pends on the will; it is an evil. “He has borne
the condemnation bravely.” That is a thing
within the power of the will: it is a- .good. If
we train ourselves in this manner, we shall
make progress; for we shall never assent to
anything of which there is not an appearance
capable of being comprehended. Your son is
dead. What has happened? Your son is dead.
Nothing more? Nothing. Your ship is lost.
What has happened? Your ship is lost. A man
has been led to prison. What has happened?
He has been led to prison. But that herein he

has fared badly, every man adds from his own
opinion. “But Zeus,” you say, “does not do
right in these matters.” Why? because he has
made you capable of endurance? because he
has made you magnanimous? because he has
taken from that which befalls you the power
of being evil? because it is in your power to
be happy while you are suffering what you suf-
fer; because he has opened the door to you,
when things do not please you? Man, go out
and do not complain.

Hear how the Romans feel toward philos-
ophers, if you would like to know. Italicus,
who was the most in repute of the philos-
ophers, once when I was present being vexed
with his own friends and as if he was suffering
something intolerable said, “I cannot bear it,
you are killing me; you will make me such as
that man is”; pointing to me.

Chapter g. To a certain rhetorician who was

going up to Rome on a suit
When a certain person came to him, who was
going up to Rome on account of a suit which
had regard to his rank, Epictetus inquired the
reason of his going to Rome, and the man then
asked what he thought about the matter. Epic-
tetus replied: If you ask me T^hat you will do
in Rome, whether you will succeed or fail, I
have no rule about this. But if you ask me
how you will fare, I can tell you; if you have
right opinions, you will fare well; if they are
false, you will fare ill. For to every man the
cause of his acting is opinion. For what is the
reason why you desired to be elected governor
of the Cnossians? Your opinion. What is the
reason that you arc now going up to Rome?
Your opinion. And going in winter, and with
danger and expense. “I must go.” What tells
you this? Your opinion. Then if opinions are
the causes of all actions, and t man has bad
opinions, such as the cause may be, such also is
the effect. Have we then all sound opinions,
both you and your adversary? And how do
you differ? But have you sounder opinions
than your adversary? Why? You think so. And
so does he think that his opinions are better;
and so do madmen. This is a bad criterion.
But show to me that you have made some in-
quiry into your opinions and have taken some
pains about them. And as now you are sailing

DISCOURSES, BOOK III 185

to Rome in order to become governor of the
Cnossiansy and you are not content to stay at
home with the honors which you had, but you
desire something greater and more conspicu-
ous, so when did you ever make a voyage for
the purpose of examining your own opinions,
and casting them out, if you have any that are
bad? Whom have you approached for this
purpose? What time have you fixed for it?
What age? Go over the times of your life by
yourself, if you are ashamed of me. When you
were a boy, did you examine your own opin-
ions? and did you not then, as you do all
things now, do as you did do? and when you
were become a youth and attended the rhetori-
cians, and yourself practiced rhetoric, what did
you imagine that you were deficient in? And
when you were a young man and engaged in
public matters, and pleaded causes yourself,
and were gaining reputation, who then seemed
your equal? And vvhrn would you have sub-
mitted to any man examining and showing
that your opinions are bad? What, then, do
you wish me to say to you? “Help me in this
matter,” I have no theorem (rule) for this.
Nor have you, if you came to me for this pur-
pose, come to me as a philosopher, but as to a
seller of vegetables or a shoemaker. “For what
purpose then have philosophers theorems?”
For this purpose, that whatever may happen,
our ruling faculty may be and continue to be
conformable to nature. Does this seem to you a
small thing? “No; but the greatest.” What
then? does it need only a short time? and is it
possible to seize it as you pass by? If you can,
seize it.

Then you will say, “I met with Epictetus as
I should meet with a stone or a statue”: for
you saw me, and nothing more. But he meets
with a man as a man, who learns his opinions,
and in his turn shows his own. Learn my
opinions; show me yours; and then say that
you have visited me. Let us examine one an-
other: if I have any bad opinion, take it away;
if you have any, show it. This is the meaning
of meeting with a philosopher. “Not so, but
this is only a passing visit, and while we are
hiring the vessel, we ^ can also see Epictetus.
Let us see what he says.” Then you go away
and say; “Epictetus was nothing: he used
solecisms and spoke in a barbarous way.” For

of what else do you come as judges? “Well,
but a man may say to me, “if I attend to such
matters, 1 shall have no land, as you have none;
I shall have no silver cups as you have none,
nor fine beasts as you have none.” In answer
to this it is perhaps sufficient to say: I have no
need of such things: but if you possess many
things, you have need of others: whether you
choose or not, you are poorer than I am.
“What then have I need of?” Of that which
you have not: of firmness, of a mind which is
conformable to nature, of being free from per-
turbation. Whether I have a patron or not,
what is that to me? but it is something to you.
I am richer than you: I am not anxious what
Carsar will think of me: for this reason, I Hat-
ter no man. This is what I possess instead of
vessels of silver ,and gold. You have utensils of
gold; but your discourse, your opinions, your
assents, your movements, your desires are of
earthen ware. But when I have these things
conformable to nature, why should I not em-
ploy my studies also upon reason? for I have
leisure: my mind is not distracted. What shall
I do, since I have no distraction? What more
suitable to a man have I than this? When you
have nothing to do, you arc disturbed, you go
to the theatre or you wander about without a
purpose. Why should not the philosopher la-
bour to improve his reason? You employ your-
self about crystal vessels: I employ myself
about the syllogism named “The Lying”
you about myrrh ine vessels; I employ myself
about the syllogism named “The Denying.”
To you everything appears small that you pos-
sess: to me all that I have appears great. Your
desire is insatiable; mine is satisfied. To (chil-
dren) who put their hand into a narrow-
necked earthen vessel and bring out figs and
nuts, this happens; if they fill the hand, they
cannot take it out, and then they cry. Drop a
few of them and you will draw things out.
And do you part with your desires: do not
desire 'many things and you will have what
you want.

Chapter 10. In what manner we ought to
bear sicl{ness ^

When the need of each opinion comes, we
ought to have it in readiness:* on the occasion
^ Sec Epicictus, ii. 17. * Marcus Aurelius, iii. 13.

i86 EPICTETUS

of breakfast, such opinions as relate to break-
fast; in the bath, those that concern the bath;
in bed, those that concern bed.

Let sleep not come upon thy languid eyes
Before each daily action thou hast scanned;
What^s done amiss, what done, what left undone;
From first to last examine all, and then
Blame what is wrong, in what is right rejoice}

And we ought to retain these verses in such
way that we may use them, not that we may
utter them aloud, as when we exclaim ‘Tscan
Apollo.” Again in fever we should have ready
such opinions as concern a fever; and we
ought not, as soon as the fever begins, to lose
and forget all. (A man who has a fever) may
say: “If I philosophize any longer, may I be
hanged: wherever I go, I must take care of the
poor body, that a fever may not come.” But
what is philosophizing? Is it not a preparation
against events which may happen? Do you
not understand that you are saying something
of this kind? “If I shall still prepare myself to
bear with patience what happens, may I be
hanged.” But this is just as if a man after re-
ceiving blows should give up the Pancratium.
In the Pancratium it is in our power to desist
and not to receive blows. But in the other mat-
ter, if we give up philosophy, what shall we
gain ? What then should a man say on the oc-
casion of each painful thing? “It was for this
that I exercised myself, for. this I disciplined
myself.” God says to you, “Give me a proof
that you have duly practiced athletics, that you
have eaten what you ought, that you have
been exercised, that you have obeyed the alip-
tes.” Then do you show yourself weak when
the time for action comes? Now is the time
for the fever. Let it be borne well. Now is the
time for thirst, bear it well; now is the time for
hunger, bear it well. Is it not in your power?
who shall hinder you? The physician will hin-
der you from drinking; but he cannot prevent
you from bearing thirst well: and he will hin-
der you from eating; but he cannot prevent
you from bearing hunger well.

“But I cannot attend to my philosophical
studies.” And for what purpose do you follow
them? Slave, is it not that you may be happy,
that you may be constant, is it not that you
may be in a state conformable to nature and

1 See iv. 6.

live so? What hinders you when you have a
fever from having your ruling faculty con-
formable to nature? Here is the proof of the
thing, here is the test of the philosopher. For
this also is a part of life, like walking, like
sailing, like journeying by land, so also is
fever. Do you read when you are walking?
No. Nor do you when you have a fever. But
if you walk about well, you have all that be-
longs to a man who walks. If you bear fever
well, you have all that belongs to a man in a
fever. What is it to bear a lever well ? Not to
blame God or man; not to be afflicted at that
which happens, to expect death well and no-
bly, to do what must be done: w'hcn the physi-
cian comes in, not to be frightcncil at what he
says; nor if he says, “You are doing well,”' to
be overjoyed. For what good has he told you?
and w'hen you were in health, what good was
that to you? And even if he says, “You are in
a bad way,” do not despond. For what is it to
be ill? is it that you arc near the severance of
the soul and the body? wdiat harm is there in
this? If you are not near now, will you not
afterward be near? Is the world going to be
turned upside down when you are dead? Why
then do you Hatter the physician? Why do you
say, “If you please, master, Pshall be well”?®
Why do you give him an opportunity of rais-
ing his eyebrows? Do you not value a physi-
cian, as you do a shoemaker when he is meas-
uring your foot, or a carpenter when he is
building your house, and so treat the physician
as to the body which is not yours, but by na-
ture dead? He who has a fever has an oppor-
tunity of doing this: if he d(x:s these things, he
has what belongs to him. For it is not the busi-
ness of a philosopher to look after these ex-
ternals, neither his wine nor his oil nor his
poor body, but his own ruling pow'cr. But as
to externals how must he act? so far as not to
be careless about them. Where then is there
reason for fear? where is there, then, still rea-
son for anger, and of fear about what belongs
to others, about things which arc of no value?
For we ought to have these two principles in
readiness: that except the will nothing is good
nor bad; and that wc ought not to lead events,
but to follow them.* “My brother ought not

*S^c iJ. i8.

* Compare Matt. 8. 2.

^ Sec Epictetus, i. 4.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III 187

to have behaved thus to me.” No; but he will
sec to that: and, however he may behave, I
will conduct myself toward him as I ought.
For this is my own business: that belongs to
another; no man can prevent this, the other
thing can be hindered.

Chapter ii. Certain miscellaneous matters
There are certain penalties fixed as by law for
those who disobey the divine administration.^
Whoever thinks any other thing to be good
except those things which depend on the will,
let him envy, let him desire, let him flatter, let
him be perturbed: whoever considers any-
thing else to be evil, let him grieve, let him
lament, let him weep, let him be unhappy.
And yet, though so severely punished, we can-
not desist.

Remcmlxir what the poet^ says about the
stranger:

Stranger, I must, not, cen if a worse man come.

This, then, may be applied even to a father: “I
must not, even if a worse man than you should
come, treat a father unworthily; for all arc
from paternal Zeus.’" And of a brother, “For
all are from the Zeus who presides over kin-
dred.” And so in the other relations of life we
shall find Zeus to be an inspector.

Chapter 12. About exercise
We ought not to make our exercises consist in
means contrary to nature and adapted to cause
admiration, for, if we do so, we, who call our-
selves philosophers, shall not differ at all from
jugglers. For it is difficult even to walk on a
rope; and not only difficult, but it is also dan-
gerous. Ought we for this reason to practice
walking on a rope, or setting up a palm tree,
or embracing statues? By no means. Every-
thing which is difficult and dangerous is not
suitable for practice; but that is suitable which
conduces to the working out of that w hich is
proposed to us as a thing to be w’orked out. To
live wMth desire and aversion, free from re-
straint. And what is this? Neither to be disap-
pointed in that which you desire, nor to fall
into anything which ^you would avoid. To-
ward this object, then, exercise ought to tend.

‘ See iii. 24.

• Homer, Odyssey^ xiv. 55.

For, since it is not possible to have your desire
not disappointed and your aversion free from
falling into that which you would avoid, with-
out great and constant practice, you must
know that if you allow your desire and aver-
sion to turn to things which are not within the
power of the will, you will neither have your
desire capable of attaining your object, nor
your aversion free from the power of avoiding
that which you would avoid. And since strong
habit leads, and we arc accustomed to employ
desire and aversion only to things which are
not within the power of our will, we ought to
oppose to this habit a contrary habit, and
where there is great slipperiness in the appear-
ances, there to oppose the habit of exercise.

I am rather inclined to pleasure: I will in-
cline to the contrary side above measure for
the sake of exercise. I am averse to pain: I will
rub and exercise against this the appearances
which arc presented to me for the purpose of
withdrawing my aversion from every such
thing. For w'ho is a practitioner in exercise?
He who practices not using his desire, and ap-
plies his aversion only to things which are
within the power of his will, and practices
most in the things which are difficult to con-
quer. For this reason one man must practice
himself more against one thing and another
against another thing. What, then, is it to the
purpose to set up a palm tree, or to carry about
a tent of skins, or a mortar and a pestle? Prac-
tice, man, if you arc irritable, to endure if you
arc abused, not to be ve.xed if you are treated
with dishonour. Then you will make so much
progress that, even if a man strikes you, you
will say to yourself, “Imagine that you have
embraced a statue”: then also exercise yourself
to use wine properly so as not to drink much,
for in this also there arc men who foolishly
practice themselves; but first of all you should
abstain from it, and abstain from a young
girl and dainty cakes. Then at last, if occasion
presents itself, for the purpose of trying your-
self at a proper time, you will descend into the
arena to know if appearances overpower you as
they did formerly. But at first fly far from that
which is stronger than youi^lf: the contest is
unequal between a charming young girl and a
beginner in philosophy. “The earthen pitcher,”
as the saying is, “and the rock do not agree.”

i88 EPICTETUS

After the desire and the aversion comes the
second topic of the movements toward action
and the withdrawals from it; that you may be
obedient to reason, that you do nothing out of
season or place, or contrary to any propriety of
the kind. The third topic concerns the assents,
which is related to the things which are per-
suasive and attractive. For as Socrates said,
*Ve ought not to live a life without examina-
tion,**^ so we ought not to accept an appear-
ance without examination, but we should say,
“Wait, let me sec what you arc and whence
you come’*; like the watch at night, “Show me
the pass.** “Have you the signal from nature
which the appearance that may be accepted
ought to have?** And finally whatever means
are applied to the body by those who exercise
it, if they tend in any way toward desire and
aversion, they also may be fit means of exer-
cise; but if they are for display, they are the
indications of one who has turned himself to-
ward something external, and who is hunting
for something else, and who looks for specta-
tors who will say, “Oh the great man.” For
this reason, Apollonius said well, “When you
intend to exercise yourself for your own ad-
vantage, and you are thirsty from heat, take
in a mouthful of cold water, and spit it out,
and tell nobody.**

Chapter 13. What solitude is, and what l(ind
of person a solitary man is
Solitude is a certain condition of a helpless
man. For because a man is alone, he is not for
that reason also solitary; just as though a man
is among numbers, he is not therefore not sol-
itary. When then v9e have lost either a brother,
or a son, or a friend on whom we were ac-
customed to repose, we say that we are left
solitary, though we are often in Rome, though
such a crowd meet us, though so many live in
the same place, and sometimes we have a
great number of slaves. For the man who is
solitary, as it is conceived, is considered to be
a helpless person and exposed to those who
wish to harm him. For this reason when we
travel, then especially do we say that we are
lonely when we fall among robbers, for it is
not the sight of a human creature which re-
moves us from solitude, but the sight of one
^ See L a 6 , and iii. a.

who is faithful and modest and helpful to us.
For if being alone is enough to make solitude,
you may say that even Zeus is solitary in the
conflagration and bewails himself saying,
“Unhappy that I am who have neither Hera,
nor Athena, nor Apollo, nor brother, nor son,
nor descendant nor kinsman.’* This is what
some say that he does when he is alone at the
conflagration.^ For they do not understand
how a man passes his life when he is alone,
because they set out from a certain natural
principle, from the natural desire of commun-
ity and mutual love and from the pleasure of
conversation among men. But none the less a
man ought to be prepared in a manner for
this also, to be able to be sufficient for himself
and to be his own companion. For as Zeus
dwells with himself, and is tranquil by him-
self, and thinks of his own administration and
of its nature, and is employed in thoughts
suitable to himself; so ought we also to be able
to talk with ourselves, not to feel the want of
others also, not to be unprovided with the
means of passing our time; to observe the di-
vine administration, and the relation of our-
selves to everything else; to consider how we
formerly were affected toward things that hap-
pen and how at present; whrat are still the
things which give us pain; how these also can
be cured and how removed; if any things re-
quire improvement, to improve them accord-
ing to reason.

For you see that Caesar ap|>;ars to furnish us
with great peace, that there are no longer
enemies nor battles nor great associations of
robbers nor of pirates, but we can travel at
every hour and sail from east to west. But can
Caesar give us security from fever also, can he
from shipwreck, from fire, from earthquake or
from lightning? well, I will say, can he give us
security against love? He cannot. From sor-
row? He cannot. From envy? He cannot. In
a word then he cannot protect us from any of
these things. But the doctrine oi philosophers
promises to give us security eveu against these
things. And what does it say? ,^*Men, if you
will attend to me, wherever you are, whatever
you are doing, you will not feel sorrow, nor
anger, nor compulsion, nor hindrance, but you
will pass your time without perturbations and

See also Herodotus, ii. 11.

DISCOURSES,

free from everything.” When a man has this
peace, not proclaimed by Czsar (for how
should he be able to proclaim it P ), but by God
through reason, is he not content when he is
alone? when he sees and reflects, “Now no
evil can happen to me; for me there is no rob-
ber, no earthquake, everything is full of peace,
full of tranquillity: every way, every city,
every meeting, neighbor, companion is harm-
less. One person whose business it is, supplies
me with food;^ another with raiment; another
with perceptions, and preconceptions. And if
he does not supply what is necessary. He gives
the signal for retreat, opens the door, and says
to you, ‘Go.* Go whither? To nothing ter-
rible, but to the place from which you came,
to your friends and kinsmen, to the elements:*
what there was in you of fire goes to fire; of
earth, to earth; of air, to air; of water to water:
no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Cocytus, nor Pyri-
phlcgcthon, but -ill is full of Gods and De-
mons.” When a man has such things to think
on, and sees the sun, the moon and stars, and
enjoys earth and sea, he is not solitary nor even
helpless. “Well then, if some man should come
upon me when I am alone and murder me?”
Fool, not murder you, but your poor body.

What kind of solitude then remains? what
want? why do we make ourselves worse than
children? and what do children do when they
are left alone? They take up shells and ashes,
and they build something, then pull it down,
and build something else, and so they never
want the means of passing the time. Shall I,
then, if you sail away, sit down and weep, be-
cause I have been left alone and solitary? Shall
1 then have no shells, no ashes? But children
do what they do through want of thought, and
we through knowledge are unhappy.

Every great power is dangerous to begin-
ners. You must then bear such things as you
are able, but conformably to nature: but not
. . . Practice sometimes a way of living like a
person out of health that you may at some time
live like a man in health. Abstain from food,
drink water, abstain sometimes altogether
from desire^ in order that you may some time

* See iii. i, 43.

* Compare Eccles. X2. 7; I Thess. 4. 14: John, 6. 39,
40: If. 25, 26; 1 Cor. 6. 14; 15. 53; II Cor. 5. 14, etc.
See also Epictetus, iii. 24.

BOOK III 189

desire consistently with reason; and if con-
sistently with reason, when you have anything
good in you, you will desire well. “Not so;
but we wish to live like wise men immediately
and to be useful to men.’* Useful how? what
are you doing? have you been useful to your-
self? “But, I suppose, you wish to exhort
them.” You exhort them I You wish to be use-
ful to them. Show to them in your own ex-
ample what kind of men philosophy makes,
and don’t trifle. When you are eating, do good
to those who eat with you; when you are
drinking, to those who are drinking with you;
by yielding to all, giving way, bearing with
them, thus do them good, and do not spit on
them your phlegm.

Chapter 14. Certain miscellaneous matters
As bad tragic actors cannot sing alone, but in
company with many: so some persons canno^
walk about alone. Man, if you are anything,
both walk alone and talk to yourself, and do
not hide yourself in the chorus. Examine a lit-
tle at last, look around, stir yourself up, that
you may know who you are.

When a man drinks water, or does any-
thing for the sake of practice, whenever there
is an opportunity he tells it to all: “I drink
water.” Is it for this that you drink water, for
the purpose of drinking water? Man, if it is
good for you to drink, drink; but if not, you
are acting ridiculously. But if it is good for
you and you do drink, say nothing about it to
those who arc displeased with water-drinkers.
What then, do you wish to please these very
men?

Of things that are done some are done with
a final purpose, some according to occasion,
others with a certain reference to circum-
stances, others for the purpo.se of complying
with others, and some according to a fixed
scheme of life.

You must root out of men these two things,
arrogance and distrust. Arrogance, then, is the
opinion that you want nothing: but distrust
is the opinion that you cannot be happy when
so many circumstances surround you. Arro-
gance is removed by confu^ilion; and Socrates
was the first who practiced this. And, that the
thing is not impossible, inquire and seek. This
search will do you no harm; and in a manner

190 EPICTETUS

this is philosophizing, to seek how it is pos-
sible to employ desire and aversion without
impediment.

“I am superior to you, for my father is a
man of consular rank.” Another says, “I have
been a tribune, but you have not.” If wc were
horses, would you say, “My father was swift-
er?” “I have much barley and fodder, or ele-
gant neck ornaments.” If, then, while you were
saying this, I said, “Be it so: let us run then.”
Well, is there nothing in a man such as run-
ning in a horse, by which it will be known
which is superior and inferior? Is there not
modesty, fidelity, justice? Show y^urself supe-
rior in these, that you may be superior as a
man. If you tell me that you can kick violently,
I also will say to you that you are proud of
that which is the act of an ass.

Chapter 15. That we ought to proceed with

circumspection to everything
In every act consider what precedes and what
follows, and then proceed to the act. If you do
not consider, you will at first begin with spirit,
since you have not thought at all of the things
which follow; but afterward, when some con-
sequences have shown themselves, you will
basely desist. “I wish to conquer at the Olym-
pic games.” “And I too, by the gods: for it is a
fine thing.” But consider here what precedes
and what follows; and then, if it is for your
good, undertake the thing. You must act ac-
cording to rules, follow strict diet, abstain
from delicacies, exercise yourself by compul-
sion at fixed times, in heat, in cold; drink no
cold water, nor wine, when there is oppor-
tunity of drinking it.^ In a word you must sur-
render yourself to the trainer as you do to a
physician. Next in the contest, you must be
covered with sand, sometimes dislocate a hand,
sprain an ankle, swallow a quantity of dust,
be scourged with the whip; and after under-
going all this, you must sometimes be con-
quered. After reckoning all these things, if
you have still an inclination, go to the athletic
practice. If you do not reckon them, observe
you will behave like children who at one time
play as wrestlers, then as gladiators, then blow
a trumpet, then act a tragedy, when they have

^Oimparc Luke, 14. 28-33.

* Compare 1 Cor. 9. 25.

seen and admired such things. So you also do:
you are at one time a wrestler, then a gladi-
ator, then a philosopher, then a rhetorician; but
with your whole soul you are nothing: like the
ape, you imitate all that you see; and always
one thing after another pleases you, but that
which becomes familiar displeases you. For
you have never undertaken anything after con-
sideration, nor after having explored the whole
matter and put it to a strict examination; but
you have undertaken it at hazard and with a
cold desire. Thus some persons having seen a
philosopher and having heard one speak like
Euphrates’ — and yet who can speak like him?
— wish to be philosophers themselves.

Man, consider first what the matter is, then
your own nature also, what it is able to lx;ar.
If you are a wrestler, look at your shoulders,
your thighs, your loins: for different men are
naturally formed for different things. Do you
think that, if you do, you can be a philos-
opher? Do you think that you can cat as you
do now, drink as you do now, and in the same
way be angry and out of humour? You must
watch, labour, conquer certain desires, you
must depart from your kinsmen, be despised
by your slave, laughed at by those who meet
you, in everything you must bft in an inferior
condition, as to magisterial office, in honours,
in courts of justice. When you have consid-
ered all these things completely, then, if you
think prof)cr, approach to philosophy, if you
would gain in exchange for these things free-
dom from perturbations, liberty, tranquillity.
If you have not considered these things, do not
approach philosophy: do not act like children,
at one time a philosopher, then a tax collector,
then a rhetorician, then a procurator of Caesar.
These things are not consistent. You must be
one man cither good or bad: you must cither
labour at your own ruling faculty or at external
things: you must cither labour at things within
or at external thing.s: that is, you must either
occupy the place of a philosopher or that of
one of the vulgar.

A person said to Rufus^ whe?n Galba was
murdered, “Is the world now governed by
Providence?” But Rufus replied, “Did I ever

•Marcus Aurrlius, x. ^1.

• Scr, i. I and 9. 7 'his passaj;c is out r>f place here but
perhaps belongs to chapter 11, 14, or 17.

DISCOURSES,

incidentally form an argument from Galba
that the world is governed by Providence?”

Chapter i6 . That we ought with caution to
enter into familiar intercourse with men
If a man has frequent intercourse with others,
either for talk, or drinking together, or gen-
erally for social purposes, he must either be-
come like them, or change them to his own
fashion. For if a man places a piece of
quenched charcoal close to a piece that is burn-
ing, either the quenched charcoal will quench
the other, or the burning charcoal will light
that which is quenched. Since, then, the dan-
ger is so great, we must cautiously enter into
such intimacies with those of the common sort,
and remcml)cr that it is imjx)ssible that a man
can kccpcompany with one who is covered with
soot without lx:ing partaker of the soot him-
self. For what will you do if a man speaks
about gladiators, about horses, about athletes,
or, what is worse, about men? “Such a person
is bad,” “Such a person is good”; “This was
well done,” “This was done badly.” Further,
if he scoff, or ridicule, or show an ill-natured
disposition? Is any man among us prepared
like a lute-player when he takes a lute, so that
as soon as he has touched the strings, he dis-
covers which are discordant, and tunes the in-
strument? such a power as Socrates had who
in all his social intercourse could lead his com-
panions to his own pur}X)se? How should you
have this jx)wer? It is therefore a necessary
consequence that you arc carried about by the
common kind of people.

Wliy, then, are they more powerful than
you? Because they utter these useless words
from their real opinions: but you utter your
elegant words only from your lips; for this rea-
son they are without strength and dead, and it
is nauseous to listen to your exhortations and
your miserable virtue, which is talked of every-
where. In this way the vulgar have the ad-
vantage over you: for every opinion is strong
and invincible. Until, then, the good senti-
ments arc fixed in you, and you shall have ac-
quired a certain power for your security, I ad-
vise you to be carefuHn your association with
common persons: if you arc not, every day
like wax in the sun there will be melted away
whatever you inscribe on your minds in the

BOOK III 191

school. Withdraw, then, yourselves far from
the sun so long as you have these waxen senti-
ments. For this reason also philosophers advise
men to leave their native country, because an-
cient habits distract them and do not allow a
beginning to be made of a different habit; nor
can we tolerate those who meet us and say:
“Sec such a one is now a philosopher, who was
once so-and-so.” Thus also physicians send
those who have lingering diseases to a different
country and a different air; and they do right.
Do you also introduce other habits than those
which you have: fix your opinions and exercise
yourselves in them. But you do not so: you go
hence to a spectacle, to a show' of gladiators, to
a place of exercise, to a circus; then you come
back hither, and again from this place you go
to those places, and still the same persons. And
there is no pleasing habit, nor attention, nor
care about self and observation of this kind,
“How shall I use the appearances presented to
me? according to nature, or contrary to na-
ture? how do I answer to them? as I ought,
or as I ought not? Do I say to those things
which are independent of the will, that they
do not concern me?” For if you are not yet in
this Slate, fly from your former habits, fly from
the common sort, if you intend ever to begin
to be something.

Chapter 17. On providence
When you make any charge against Provi-
dence, consider, and you will learn that the
thing has happened according to reason. “Yes,
but the unjust man has the advantage.” In
what? “In money.” Yes, for he is superior to
you in this, that he flatters, is free from shame,
and is watchful. What is the wonder? But sec
if he has the advantage over you in being faith-
ful, in being modest: for you will not find it to
be so; but wherein you are superior, there you
will find that you have the advantage. And I
once said to a man who was vexed because
Philostorgus was fortunate: “Would you
choose to lie with Sura?” “May it never hap-
pen,” he replied, “that this day should come?”
“Why then arc you vexed, if he receives some-
thing in return for that which be sells; or how
can you consider him happy who acquires
those things by such means as you abominate;
or what wrong docs Providence, if he gives the

EPICTETUS

better things to the better men? Is it not better
to be modest than to be rich?’* He admitted
this. Why are you vexed then, man, when you
possess the better thing? Remember, then, al-
ways, and have in readiness, the truth that this
is a law of nature, that the superior has an ad-
vantage over the inferior in that in which he
is superior; and you will never be vexed.

“But my wife treats me badly.” Well, if any
man asks you what this is, say, “My wife treats
me badly.” “Is there, then, nothing more?”
Nothing. “My father gives me nothing.” But
to say that this is an evil is something which
must be added to it externally, and falsely add-
ed. For this reason we must not get rid of pov-
erty, but of the opinion about poverty, and
then we shall be happy.

Chapter i8. That we ought not to be disturbed
by any news

When anything shall be reported to you which
is of a nature to disturb, have this principle in
readiness, that the news is about nothing
which is within the power of your will. Can
any man report to you that you have formed
a bad opinion, or had a bad desire? By no
means. But perhaps he will report that some
person is dead. What then is that to you? He
may report that some person speaks ill of you.
What then is that to you ? Or that your father
is planning something or other. Against
whom? Against your will? How can he? But
is it against your poor body, against your little
property? You are quite safe: it is not against
you. But the judge declares that you have com-
mitted an act of impiety. And did not the
judges make the same declaration against
Socrates? Does it concern you that the judge
has made this declaration? No. Why then do
you trouble yourself any longer about it? Your
father has a certain duty, and if he shall not
fulfill it, he loses the character of a fa^cr, of
a man of natural affection, of gentleness. Do
not wish him to lose anything else on this ac-
count. For never docs a man do wrong in one
thing, and suffer in another. On the other side
it is your duty to make your defense firmly,
modestly, without anger: but if you do not,
you also lose the character of a son, of a man
of modest behaviour, of generous character.
Well then, is the judge free from danger? No;

but he also is in equal danger. Why then are
you still afraid of his decision? What have you
to do with that which is another man’s evil?
It is your own evil to make a bad defense: be
on your guard against this only. But to be con-
demned or not to be condemned, as that is the
act of another person, so it is the evil of an-
other person. “A certain person threatens you.”
Me? No. “He blames you.” Let him see how
he manages his own affairs. “He is going to
condemn you unjustly.” He is a wretched man.

Chapter 19. What is the condition of a com^
mon }(ind of man and of a philosopher
The first difference between a common person
and a philosopher is this: the common person
says, “Woe to me for my little child, for my
brother, for my father.”^ The philosopher, if he
shall ever be compelled to say, “Woe to me,”
stops and says, “but for myself.” For nothing
which is independent of the will can hinder or
damage the will, and the will can only hinder
or damage itself. If, then, wc ourselves incline
in this direction, so as, when we are unlucky,
to blame ourselves and to remember that noth-
ing else is the cause of perturbation or loss of
tranquillity except our own opinion, I swear
to you by all the gods that we have made prog-
ress. But in the present state of affairs we have
gone another w'ay from the beginning. For ex-
ample, while we were still children, the nurse,
if we ever stumbled through want of care, did
not chide us, but would beat the stone. But
what did the stone do? Ought the stone to have
moved on account of your child’s folly? Again,
if wc find nothing to eat on coming out of the
bath, the pedagogue never checks our appetite,
but he flogs the cook. Man, did wc make you
the pedagogue of the cook and not of the
child? Correct the child, improve him. In this
way even when wc are grown up wc are like
children. For he who is unmusical is a child in
music; he who is without letters is a child in
learning: he who is untaught, is a child in life.

Chapter 20. That we can derhe advantage
from all external things
In the case of appearances, which arc objects
of the vision, nearly all have allowed the good
and the evil to be in ourselves, and not in ex-
^ ComiNure iiL 5.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

ternals. No one gives the name of good to the
fact that it is day, nor bad to the fact that it is
night, nor the name of the greatest evil to the
opinion that three are four. But what do men
say? They say that knowledge is good, and
that error is bad; so that even in respect to
falsehood itself there is a good result, the
knowledge that it is falsehood. So it ought to
be in life also. “Is health a good thing, and is
sickness a bad thing?” No, man. “But what is
it?” To be healthy, and healthy in a right way,
is good: to be healthy in a bad way is bad; so
that it is possible to gain advantage even from
sickness, I declare. For is it not possible to gain
advantage even from death, and is it not pos-
sible to gain advantage from mutilation? Do
you think that Mena'ceus gained little by
death ?^ “Could a man who says so, gain so
much as Menocceus gained?” Come, man, did
he not maintain the character of being a lover
of his country, a )i of great mind, faithful,
generous? And if he had continued to live,
would he not have lost all these things? would
he not have gained the opposite? would he not
have gained the name of coward, ignoble, a
hater of his country, a man who feared death?
Well, do you think that he gained little by dy-
ing? “I suppose not.” But did the father of Ad-
metus* gain much by prolonging his life so
ignobly and miserably? Did he not die after-
ward? Cease, I adjure you by the gods, to ad-
mire material things. Cease to make yourselves
slaves, first of things, then on account of things
slaves of those who are able to give them or
take them away.

“Can advantage then be derived from these
things?” From all; and from him who abuses
you. Wherein docs the man who exercises be-
fore the combat profit the athlete? Very great-
ly. This man becomes my exerciser before the
combat: he exercises me in endurance, in keep-
ing my temper, in mildness. You say no: but
he, who lays hold of my neck and disciplines
my loins and shoulders, does me good; and the
exercise master docs right when he says:
“Raise him up with both hands, and the heavi-
er he is, so much the more is my advantage.”
But if a man exercises me in keeping my tem-
per, does he not do me good? This is not

^ Euripides, Phomician Maidens, 913.

* Euripides, Alcestis.

knowing how to gain an advantage from men.
“Is my neighbour bad?” Bad to himself, but
good to me: he exercises my good disposition,
my moderation. “Is my father bad?” Bad to
himself, but to me good. This is the rod of
Hermes: “Touch with it what you please,” as
the saying is, “and it will be of gold.” I say not
so; but bring what you please, and I will make
it good. Bring disease, bring death, bring pov-
erty, bring abuse, bring trialon capital charges:
all these things through the rod of Hermes
shall be made profitable. “What will you do
with death?” Why, what else than that it shall
do you honour, or that it shall show you by act
through it, what a man is who follows the will
of nature? “What will you do with disease?”
I will show its nature, I will be conspicuous
in it, I will be firm, I will be happy, I will not
flatter the physician, I will not wish to die.
What else do you seek? Whatever you shall
give me, I will make it happy, fortunate, hon-
oured, a thing which a man shall seek.

You say No: but take care that you do not
fall sick: it is a bad thing.” This is the same as
if you should say, “Take care that you never
receive the impression that three arc four: that
is bad.” Man, how is it bad? If I think about it
as I ought, how shall it, then, do me any dam-
age? and shall it not even do me good? If,
then, I think about poverty as I ought to do,
about disease, al>out not having office, is not
that enough for me? will it not be an advan-
tage? How, then, ought I any longer to look to
seek evil and good in externals? What hap-
pens? these doctrines arc maintained here, but
no man carries them away home; but im-
mediately every one is at war with his slave,
with his neighbours, with those who have
sneered at him, with those who have ridiculed
him. Good luck to Lesbius, who daily proves
that I know nothing.

Chapter 21. Against those who readily come
to the projession of sophists
They who have taken up bare theorems im-
mediately wish to vomit them forth, as persons
whose stomach is diseased do with food. First
digest the thing, then do nqr\'omit it up thus:
if you do not digest it, the thing become truly
an emetic, a crude food and unfit to eat. But
after digestion show us some change in your

EPICTETUS

ruling faculty, as athletes show in their shoul-
ders by what they have been exercised and what
they have eaten; as those who have taken up
certain arts show by what they have learned.
The carpenter docs not come and say, “Hear
me talk about the carpenter’s art”; but having
undertaken to build a house, he makes it, and
proves that he knows the art. You also ought
to do something of the kind; eat like a man,
drink like a man, dress, marry, beget children,
do the office of a citizen, endure abuse, bear
with an unreasonable brother, bear with your
father, bear with your son, neighbour, com-
panion. Show us these things that we may see
that you have in truth learned something from
the philosophers. You say, “No; but come and
hear me read commentaries,” Go away, and
seek somebody to vomit them on. “And indeed
I will expound to you the writings of Chrysip-
pus as no other man can: I will explain his
text most clearly: I will add also, if I can, the
vehemence of Antipatcr and Archedemus.”

Is it, then, for this that young men shall
leave their country and their parents, that they
may come to this place, and hear you explain
words? Ought they not to return with a capac-
ity to endure, to be active in association with
others, free from passions, free from perturba-
tion, with such a provision for the Journey of
life with which they shall be able to bear well
the things that happen and derive honour
from them? And how can you give them any
of these things which you do not possess?
Have you done from the beginning anything
else than employ yourself about the resolution
of Syllogisms, of sophistical arguments, and in
those which work by questions? “But such a
man has a school; why should not I also have
a school?” These things arc not done, man, in
a careless way, nor Just as it may happen; but
there must be a (fit) age and life and God as a
guide. You say, “No.” But no man sails from
a port without having sacrificed to the Gods
and invoked their help; nor do men sow with-
out having called on Demeter; and shall a man
who has undertaken so great a work under-
take it safely without the Gods? and shall they
who undertake this work come to it with suc-
cess? What else are you doing, man, than
divulging the mysteries? You say, “There is a
temple at Eleusis, and one here also. There is

an Hierophant at Eleusis, and I also will make
an Hierophant: there is a herald, and I will
establish a herald; there is a torch-bearer at
Eleusis, and I also will establish a torch-bearer;
there arc torches at Eleusis, and I will have
torches here. The words arc the same: how do
the things done here differ from those done
there?” Most impious man, is there no differ-
ence? these things arc done both in due place
and in due time; and when accompanied with
sacrifice and prayers, when a man is first puri-
fied, and when he is dis[X)sed in his mind to
the thought that he is going to approach sa-
cred rites and ancient rites. In this way the
mysteries arc useful, in this way wc come to
the notion that all these things were estab-
lished by the ancients for the instruction and
correction of life. But you publish and divulge
them out of time, out of place, without sac-
rifices, without purity; you have not the gar-
ments w’hich the hierophant ought to have,
nor the hair, nor the head-dress, nor the voice,
nor the age; nor have you purified yourself as
he has: but you have commiiied to memory
the words only, and you say: “Sacred arc the
words by themselves.”

You ought to a[)proach these matters in an-
other way; the thing is great. It is mystical, not
a common thing, nor is it given to every man.
But not even wisdom perhaps is enough to en-
able a man to take care of youths: a man must
have also a certain readiness and fitness for
this purpose, and a certain quality of body, and
above all things he must have God to advise
him to occupy this oflicc, as God advised Soc-
rates to occupy the place of one who confutes
error, Diogenes the office of royalty and re-
proof, and the office of teaching precepts. But
you open a doctor’s shop, though you have
nothing except physic: but where and how
they should be applied, you know not nor have
you taken any trouble about it. “Sec,” that
man says, “I too have salves for the eyes.”
Have you also the power of using them? Do
you know both when and how they will do
good, and to whom they will do good? Why
then do you act at hazard in things of the
greatest importance? why are you careless?
why do you undertake a thing that is in no
way fit for you ? Leave it to those who are able
to do it, and to do it well. Do not yourself

DISCOURSES,

bring disgrace on philosophy through your
own acts, and be not one of those who load it
with a bad reputation. But if theorems please
you, sit still and turn them over by yourself;
but never say that you are a philosopher, nor
allow another to say it; but say: “He is mis-
taken, for neither are my desires different
from what they were before, nor is my activity
directed to other objects, nor do I assent to
other things, nor in the use of apfxraranccs
have T altered at all from my former condi-
tion.** This you must think and say about
yourself, if you would think as you ought: if
not, act at hazard, and do what you arc doing;
for it becomes you.

Chapter 22. About cynism
When one of his pupils inquired of Epictetus,
and he was a jxrrson who apjxiarcd to be in-
clined to Cynism, what kind of {x:rson a Cynic
ought to be and v'hat was the notion of the
thing, We will inquire, said Epictetus, at lei-
sure: but I have so much to say to you that he
who without God attempts so great a matter,
is hateful to God, and has no other purpose
than to act indecently in public. For in any
well-managed house no man comes forward,
and says to himself, “I ought to be manager of
the house.’* If he docs so, the master turns
round and, seeing him insolently giving or-
ders, drags him lorth and flogs him. So it is
also in this great city; for here also there is a
master of the house who orders everything.
“You arc the sun; you can by going round
make the year and seasons, and make the
fruits grow and nourish them, and stir the
winds and make them remit, and warm the
bodies of men properly: go, travel round, and
so administer things from the greatest to the
least.’* “You are a calf; when a lion shall ap-
pear, do your proper businc.ss: if you do not,
you will suffer.*’ “You are a bull: advance and
fight, for this is your business, and becomes you,
and you can do it.” “You can lead the army
against Ilium; be Agamemnon.” “You can fight
in single combat against Hector: be Achilles.”
But if Thersites' came forward and claimed
the command, he would cither not have ob-
tained it; or, if he did obtain it, he would have
disgraced himself before many witnesses.

^ flomcr, Iliads ii. 212.

BOOK 111 X95

Do you also think about the matter care-
fully: it is not what it seems to you. “I wear a
cloak now and I shall wear it then: I sleep
hard now, and I shall sleep hard then: I will
take in addition a little bag now and a staff,
and I will go about and begin to beg and to
abuse those whom I meet; and if I see any man
plucking the hair out of his body, I will re-
buke him, or if he has dressed his hair, or if
he walks about in purple.” If you imagine the
thing to be such as this, keep far away from
it: do not approach it: it is not at all for you.
But if you imagine it to be what it is, and do
not think yourself to be unfit for it, consider
what a great thing you undertake.

In the first place in the things which relate
to yourself, you must not be in any respect like
what you do now: you must not blame God or
man: you must take away desire altogether,
you must transfer avoidance only to the things
which are within the power of the wdll: you
must not feel anger nor resentment nor envy
nor pity; a girl must not appear handsome to
you, nor must you love a little reputation, nor
be pleased with a boy or a cake. For you ought
to know that the rest of men throw walls
around them and houses and darkness when
they do any such things, and they have many
means of concealment. A man shuts the door,
he sets somebody before the chamber: if a per-
son comes, say that he is out, he is not at
leisure. But the Cynic instead of all these
things must use modesty as his protection; if
he docs not, he will lx: indecent in his naked-
ness and under the open sky. This is his house,
his door: this is the slave before his l‘)edcham-
ber: this is his darkness. For he ought not to
wish to hide anything that he docs: and if he
docs, he is gone, he has lost the character of a
Cynic, of a man who lives under the open sky,
of a free man: he has begun to fear some ex-
ternal thing, he has begun to have need of con-
cealment, nor can he get concealment when
he chooses. For where shall he hide himself
and how.? And if by chance this public instruc-
tor shall be detected, this pedagogue, what
kind of things will he be compelled to suffer.?
when then a man fears thc.^* things, is it pos-
sible for him to be bold with his whole soul to
superintend men.? It cannot be; it is impos-
sible.

196 EPICTETUS

In the first place, then, you must make your
ruling faculty pure, and this mode of life also.
‘^Now, to me the matter to work on is my un-
derstanding, as wood is to the carpenter, as
hides to the shoemaker; and my business is the
right use of appearances. But the body is noth-
ing to me: the parts of it are nothing to me.
Death? Let it come when it chooses, either
death of the whole or of a part. Fly, you say.
And whither; can any man eject me out of the
world? He cannot. But wherever I go, there is
the sun, there is the moon, there are the stars,
dreams, omens, and the conversation with
Gods”

Then, if he is thus prepared, the true Cynic
cannot be satisfied with this; but he must know
that he is sent a messenger from Zeus to men
about good and bad things, to show them that
they have wandered and arc seeking the sub-
stance of good and evil where it is not, but
where it is, they never think; and that he is a
spy, as Diogenes was carried off to Philip after
the battle of Chacroneia as a spy. For, in fact, a
Cynic is a spy of the things which are good
for men and which are evil, and it is his duty
to examine carefully and to come and report
truly, and not to be struck with terror so as to
point out as enemies those w’ho arc not ene-
mies, nor in any other way to be perturbed by
appearances nor confounded.

It is his duty, then, to be -able with a loud
voice, if the occasion should arise, and appear-
ing on the tragic stage to say like Socrates:
“Men, whither are you hurrying, what arc you
doing, wretches? like blind people you arc
wandering up and down: you arc going by an-
other road, and have left the true road: you
seek for prosperity and happiness where they
arc not, and if another shows you where they
arc, you do not believe him.” Why do you seek
it without? In the body? It is not there. If you
doubt, look at Myro, look at Ophellius. In pos-
sessions? It is not there. But if you do not be-
lieve me, look at Croesus: look at those who
are now rich, wdth w'hat lamentations their
life is filled. In power? It is not there. If it is,
those must be happy who have been twice and
thrice consuls; but they are not. Whom shall
we believe in these matters? You who from
without sec their affairs and are dazzled by an
appearance, or the men themselves? What do

they say? Hear them when they groan, when
they grieve, when on account of these very
consulships and glory and splendour they
think that they arc more wretched and in
greater danger. Is it in royal power? It is not:
if it were, Nero would have been happy, and
Sardanapalus. But neither was Agamemnon
happy, though he was a better man than Sar-
danapalus and Nero; but while others are
snoring what is he doing?

from his head he tore his rooted hairj*^
And what does he say himself?

"/ am perplexed!^ he says, ''and

Disturbed I am** and "my heart out of my bosom

Is leaping**^

Wretch, which of your affairs goes badly?
Your possessions? No. Your body? No. But
you arc rich in gold and copper. What then is
the matter with you? That part of you, what-
ever it is, has been neglected by you and is cor-
rupted, the part with which we desire, with
which we avoid, with which we move toward
and move from things. How neglected? He
knows not the nature of good for which he is
made by nature and the nature of evil; and
what is his own, and what belongs to another;
and when anything that lielongs to others goes
badly, he says, “Woe to me, fcr the Hellenes
are in danger.” Wretched is his ruling faculty,
and alone neglected and uncared for. “The
Hellenes are going to die destroyed by the
Trojans.” And if the Trojans do not kill them,
will they not die? “Yes; but not all at once.”
What difference, then, docs it make? For if
death is an evil, whether men die altogether,
or if they die singly, it is equally an evil. Is
anything else then going to happen than the
separation of the soul and the body? Nothing.
And if the Hellenes perish, is the door closed,
and is it not in your power to die? “It is.”
Why then do you lament “Oh, you who are a
king and have the sceptre of 2kus?” An un-
happy king does not exist morlc than an un-
happy god. What then art th(Hi? In truth a
shepherd: for you weep as shcpherd.s do, when
a wolf has carried off one of their sheep: and
these who arc governed by you arc sheep. And
why did you come hither? Was your desire in
any danger? was your aversion? was your

^ Hrimer, Iliadf x. 15.

* Homer, Uiadt x. 91.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

movement? was your avoidance of things?
He replies, “No; but the wife of my brother
was carried off.’* Was it not then a great gain
to be deprived of an adulterous wife? “Shall
we be despised, then, by the Trojans?” What
kind of people are the Trojans, wise or fool-
ish? If they are wise, why do you fight with
them? If they are fools, why do you care about

them.

In what, then, is the good, since it is not in
these things? Tell us, you who are lord, mes-
senger and spy. Where you do not think that
it is, nor choose to seek it: for if you chose to
seek it, you would have found it to be in your-
selves; nor would you be wandering out of the
way, nor seeking what belongs to others as if
it were your own. Turn your thoughts into
yourselves: observe the preconceptions which
you have. What kind of a thing do you imag-
ine the good to be? “That which flows easily,
that which is happy, that which is not im-
peded.” Come, and do you not naturally imag-
ine it to be great, do you not imagine it to be
valuable? do you not imagine it to be free
from harm? In what material then ought you
to seek for that which flows easily, for that
which is not impeded? in that which serves or
in that which is free? “In that which is free.”
Do you fX)ssess the body, then, free or is it in
servile condition? “We do not know.” Do you
not know that it is the slave of fever, of gout,
ophthalmia, dysentery, of a tyrant, of fire, of
iron, of everything which is stronger? Yes, it
is a slave.” How, then, is it possible that any-
thing which belongs to the body can be free
from hindrance? and how is a thing great or
valuable which is naturally dead, or earth, or
mud? Well then, do you possess nothing
which is free? “Perhaps nothing.” And who is
able to compel you to assent to that which ap-
pears false? “No man.” And who can compel
you not to assent to that which appears true?
“No man.” By this, then, you see that there is
something in you naturally free. But to desire
or to be averse from, or to move toward an
object or to move from it, or to prepare your-
self, or to propose to do anything, which of
you can do this, unless' he has received an im-
pression of the appearance of that which is
profitable or a duty? “No man.” You have,

then, in these things also something which is

not hindered and is free. Wretched men, work
out this, take care of this, seek for good here.

“And how is it possible that a man who has
nothing, who is naked, houseless, without a
hearth, squalid, without a slave, without a city,
can pass a life that flows easily?” See, God has
sent you a man to show you that it is possible.
“Look at me, who am without a city, without
a house, without possessions, without a slave;

I sleep on the ground; I have no wife, no chil-
dren; no prxtorium, but only the earth and
heavens, and one poor cloak. And what do I
want? Am I not without sorrow? am I not
without fear? Am I not free? When did any of
you see me failing in the object of my desire?
or ever falling into that which I would avoid?
did I ever blame God or man? did I ever ac-
cuse any man? did any of you ever see me
with sorrowful countenance? And how do I
meet with those whom you are afraid of and
admire? Do not I treat them like slaves? Who,
when he sees me, does not think that he sees
his king and master?”

This is the language of the Cynics, this
their character, this is their purpose. You say
“No”: but their characteristic is the little wal-
let, and staff, and great jaws: the devouring of
all that you give them, or storing it up, or the
abusing unseasonably all whom they meet, or
displaying their shoulder as a fine thing. Do
you see how you are going to undertake so
great a business? First take a mirror: look at
your shoulders; observe your loins, your
thighs. You are going, my man, to be enrolled
as a combatant in the Olympic games, no frig-
id and miserable contest. In the Olympic
games a man is not permitted to be conquered
only and to take his departure; but first he
must be disgraced in the sight of all the world,
not in the sight of Athenians only, or of Lace-
dormonians or of Nicopolitans; next he must
be whipped also if he has entered into the con-
tests rashly: and before being whipped, he
must suffer thirst and heat, and swallow much
dust.

Reflect more carefully, know thyself, con-
sult the divinity, without God attempt noth-
ing; for if he shall advise yod* be assured that
he intends you to become great or to receive
many blows. For this very amusing quality is
conjoined to a Cynic: he must be flogged like

198 EPICTETUS

an ass, and when he is flogged, he must love ought to be such another as the Cynic that he

those who flog him, as if he were the father of
all, and the brother of all.‘ You say “No”; but
if a man flogs you, stand in the public place
and call out, “Caesar, what do I suffer in this
state of peace under thy protection? Let us
bring the offender before the proconsul.” But
what is Cxsar to a Cynic, or what is a procon-
sul, or what is any other except him who sent
the Cynic down hither, and whom he serves,
namely Zeus? Does he call upon any other
than Zeus? Is he not convinced that, whatever
he suffers, it is Zeus who is exercising him?
Hercules when he was exercised by Eurystheus
did not think that he was wretched, but with-
out hesitation he attempted to execute all that
he had in hand. And is he who is trained to
the contest and exercised by Zeus going to call
out and to be vexed, he who is worthy to bear
the sceptre of Diogenes? Hear what Diogenes
says to the passers-by when he is in a fever,
“Miserable wretches, will you not stay? but
arc you going so long a journey to Olympia to
sec the destruction or the fight of athletes; and
will you not choose to sec the combat between
a fever and a man?” Would such a man accuse
God who sent him down as if God were treat-
ing him unw'orthily, a man who gloried in his
circumstances, and claimed to be an example
to those who were passing by ? For what shall
he accuse him of? because he maintains a de-
cency of behaviour, because he displays his
virtue more conspicuously? Well, and what
does he say of poverty, about death, about
pain? How did he compare his own happiness
with that of the Great King? or rather he
thought that there was no comparison between
them. For where there arc perturbations, and
griefs, and fears, and desires not satisfied, and
aversions of things which you cannot avoid,
and envies and jealousies, how is there a road
to happiness there? But where there cor-
rupt principles, there these things must of ne-
cessity be.

When the young man asked, if when a
Cynic is sick, and a friend asks him to come
to his house and be taken care of in his sick-
ness, shall the Cynic accept the invitation, he
replied: And where shall you find, I ask, a
Cynic’s friend? For the man who invites

^ Compare Matt. 5. 39-44.

may be worthy of being reckoned the Cynic’s
friend. He ought to be a partner in the Cynic’s
sceptre and his royalty, and a worthy minister,
if he intends to be considered worthy of a
Cynic’s friendship, as Diogenes was a friend
of Antisthenes, as Crates was a friend of Diog-
enes. Do you think that, if a man comes to a
Cynic and salutes him, he is the Cynic’s friend,
and that the Cynic will think him worthy of
receiving a Cynic into his house? So that, if
you please, reflect on this also: rather look
round for some convenient dunghill on which
you shall bear your fever and which will shel-
ter you from the north wind that you may not
be chilled. But you seem to me to wish to go
into some man’s house and to be well fed there
for a time. Why then do you think of attempt-
ing so great a thing?

“But,” said the young man, “shall marriage
and the procreation of children as a chief duty
be undertaken by the Cynic?*' If you grant me
a community of wise men, Epictetus replies,
perhaps no man will readily apply himself to
the Cynic practice. For on whose account
should he undertake this manner of life? How-
ever if we suppose that he docs, nothing will
prevent him from marrying** and begetting
children; for his wife will be another like him-
self, and his father-in-law another like him-
self, and his children will be brought up like
himself. But in the present state of things
which is like that of an army placed in battle
order, is it not fit that the Cynic should with-
out any distraction be employed only on the
ministration of God,^ able to go about among
men, not tied down to the common duties of
mankind, nor entangled in the ordinary rela-
tions of life, which if he neglects, he will not
maintain the character of an honourable and
good man? and if he observes them he will
lose the character of the mc.sseDger, and spy
and herald of God. For consider that it is his
duty to do something toward his father-in-
law, something to the other Idnsfolk of his
wife, something to his wife also. He is also
excluded by being a Cynic from looking after
the sickness of his own family, and from pro-
viding for their support. And, to say nothing
of the rest, he must have a vessel for heating

* Compare I Cor. 7. 2 and 35.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

water for the child that he may wash it in the
bath; wool for his wife when she is delivered
of a child, oil, a bed, a cup: so the furniture of
the house is increased. I say nothing of his
other occupations and of his distraction.
Where, then, now is that king, he who devotes
himself to the public interests,

The people* s guardian and so full of cares}

whose duty it is to look after others, the mar-
ried and those who have children; to see w'ho
uses his wife well, who uses her badly; who
quarrels; what family is well administered,
what is not; going about as a physician does
and feels pulses? He says to one, “You have a
fever,” to another, “You have a headache, or
the gout”: he says to one, “Abstain from
food”; to another he says, “Eat”; or “Do not
use the bath”; to another, “You require the
knife, or the cautery.” How can he have time
for this who is tii,*^ ro the duties of common
life? is it not his duty to supply clothing to
his children, and to send them to the school-
master with writing tablets, and styles. Be-
sides, must he not supply them with beds? for
they cannot be genuine Cynics as soon as they
arc born. If he docs not do this, it would be
better to expose the children as soon as they
are born than to kill them in this way. Con-
sider what wc arc bringing the Cynic down
to, how we arc taking his royalty from him.
“Yes, but Crates took a wife.” You arc s{>cak-
ing of a circumstance which arose from love
and of a woman who was another Crates. But
wc are inquiring about ordinary marriages
and those which arc free from distractions,
and making this inquiry wc do not find the
affair of marriage in this state of the world
a thing which is cs|KTially suited to the
Cynic,

“How, then, shall a man maintain the exis-
tence of society?” In the name of God, arc
those men greater benefactors to society who
introduce into the world to occupy their own
places two or three grunting children, or those
who superintend as far as they can all man-
kind, and see what they do, how they live,
what they attend to, what they neglect con-
trary to their duty? Did they who left little
children to the Thebans do them more good

^ Homer, lUad, ii. 25.

than Epaminondas who died childless? And
did Priam us, who begat fifty worthless sons,
or Danaus or ^Eolus contribute more to the
community than Homer? then shall the duty
of a general or the business of a writer exclude
a man from marriage or the begetting of chil-
dren, and such a man shall not be judged to
have accepted the condition of childlessness
for nothing; and shall not the royalty of a
Cynic be considered an equivalent for the
want of children? Do w'e not perceive his
grandeur and do we not justly contemplate the
character of Diogenes; and do wc, instead of
this, turn our eyes to the present Cynics, who
are dogs that wait at tables and in no respect
imitate the Cynics of old except perchance in
breaking wind, but in nothing else? For such
matters would not have moved us at all nor
should we have wondered if a Cynic should
not marry or Ix^get children. Man, the Cynic
is the father of all men; the men are his sons,
the women are his daughters: he so carefully
visits all, so w'ell does he care for all. Do you
think that it is from idle impertinence that he
rebukes those whom he meets? He does it as a
father, as a brother, and as the minister of the
father of all, the minister of Zeus.

If you please, ask me also if a Cynic shall
engage in the administration of the state. Fool,
do you seek a greater form of administration
than that in which he is engaged? Do you ask
if he shall appear among the Athenians and
say something about the revenues and the sup-
plies, he W'ho must talk with all men, alike
with Athenians, alike with Corinthians, alike
with Romans, not about supplies, nor yet
about revenues, nor about jx^acc or war, but
alx)ut happiness and unhappiness, about good
fortune and bad fortune, about slavery and
freedom? When a man has undertaken the
administration of such a state, do you ask me
if he shall engage in the administration of a
state? ask me also if he shall govern: again 1
w'ill say to you: Fool, what greater government
shall he exercise than that which he exercises
now?

It is necessary also for such a man to have a
certain habit of body: for if tie appears to be
consumptive, thin and pale, his testimony has
not then the same weight. For he must not
only by showing the qualities of the soul prove

200 EPICTETUS

to the vulgar that it is in his power independ- as a participator of the power of Zeus, and

ent of the things which they admire to be a
good man, but he must also show by his body
that his simple and frugal way of living in the
open air docs not injure even the body. “Sec,”
he says, **I am a proof of this, and my own
body also is.” So Diogenes used to do, for he
used to go about fresh>looking, and he at-
tracted the notice of the many by his personal
appearance. But if a Cynic is an object of com-
passion, he seems to be a beggar: all persons
turn away from him, all are offended with
him; for neither ought he to appear dirty so
that he shall not also in this respect drive away
men; but his very roughness ought to be clean
and attractive.

There ought also to belong to the Cynic
much natural grace and sharpness; and if this
is not so, he is a stupid fellow, and nothing
else; and he must have these qualities that he
may be able readily and fitly to be a match for
all circumstances that may happen. So Diog-
enes replied to one who said, ”Are you the
Diogenes who does not believe that there are
gods.?” ”And, how,” replied Diogenes, “can
this be when I think that you are odious to
the gods?” On another occasion in reply to
Alexander, who stood by him when he was
sleeping, and quoted Homer’s line

A man a councilor should not sleep all night}

he answered, when he was half-asleep.

The people* s guardian and so full of cares.

But before all the Cynic’s ruling faculty
must be purer than the sun; and, if it is not, he
must necessarily be a cunning knave and a
fellow of no principle, since while he himself
is entangled in some vice he will reprove
others. For see how the matter stands: to these
kings and tyrants their guards and arms give
the power of reproving some persons;^ and of
being able even to punish those who do wrong
though they arc themselves bad; but to a Cynic
instead of arms and guards it is conscience
which gives this power. When he knows that
he has watched and labored for mankind, and
has slept pure, and sleep has left him still
purer, and that he thought whatever he has
thought as a friend of the gods, as a minister,

* Ikad, iL 24.

that on all occasions he is ready to say

Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, O Destiny;

and also, “If so it pleases the gods, so let it be”;
why should he not have confidence to speak
freely to his own brothers, to his children, in
a word to his kinsmen? For this reason he is
neither overcurious nor a busybody when he is
in this state of mind: for he is not a meddler
with the affairs of others when he is superin-
tending human affairs, but he is looking after
his own affairs. If that is not so, you may also
say that the general is a busybody, when he in-
spects his soldiers, and examines them, and
watches them, and punishes the disorderly.
But if, while you have a cake under your arm,
you rebuke others, I will say to you: “Will you
not rather go away into a corner and eat that
which you have stolen”; what have you to do
with the affairs of others? For who are you?
are you the bull of the herd, or the queen of
the bees? Show me the tokens of your suprem-
acy, such as they have from nature. But if
you are a drone claiming the sovereignty over
the bees, do you not suppose that your fellow-
citizens will put you down as the bees do
the drones?

The Cynic also ought to have such power of
endurance as to seem insensible to the com-
mon sort and a stone: no man reviles him, no
man strikes him, no man insults him, but he
gives his body that any man who chooses may
do with it what he likes. For he bears in mind
that the inferior must be overpowered by the
superior in that in which it is inferior; and the
body is inferior to the many, the weaker to the
stronger. He never then descends into such a
contest in which he can be overpowered; but
he immediately withdraws from things which
belong to others, he claims not the things
which arc servile. But where there is will and
the use of appearances., there yob will sec how
many eyes he has so that you may say, “Argus
was blind compared with him/’ Is his assent
ever hasty, his movement rash, does his desire
ever fail in its object, does that which he would
avoid befall him, is his purpose unaccom-
plished, does he ever find fault, is he ever
humiliated, is he ever envious? To these he
directs all his attention and energy; but as to

DISCOURSES. BOOK III

everything eke he snores supine. All is peace;
there is no robber who takes away his will, no
tyrant. But what say you as to his body? I say
there is. And as to magistracies and honours?
What does he care for them? When then any
person would frighten him through them, he
says to him, *‘Begone, look for children: masks
are formidable to them; but I know that they
are made of shell, and they have nothing in-
side.’'

About such a matter as this you are delib-
erating. Therefore, if you please, I urge you in
God's name, defer the matter, and first con-
sider your preparation for it. For see what
Hector says to Andromache, “Retire rather,”
he says, “into the house and weave”:

iVar is the wor\ of men

Of all indeed, but specially *tis mine}

So he was conscious of his own qualification,
and knew her weakness.

Chapter 23. To those who read and discuss
for the sa]{e of ostentation
First say to yourself, who you wish to be: then
do accordingly what you are doing; for in
nearly all other things we sec this to be so.
Those who follow athletic exercises first deter-
mine what they wish lu be, then do according-
ly what follows. If a man is a runner in the
long course, there is a certain kind of diet, of
walking, rubbing and exercise: if a man is a
runner in the stadium, all these things are dif-
ferent; if he is a Pentathlctc, they arc still more
different. So you will find it also in the arts. If
you are a carpenter, you will have such and such
things: if a worker in metal, such things. For
everything that we do, if we refer it to no end,
we shall do it to no purpose; and if we refer it
to the wrong end, we shall miss the mark. Fur-
ther, there is a general end or purpose, and a
particular purpose. First of all, we must act as
A man. What is comprehended in this? We
must not be like a sheep, though gentle; nor
mischievous, like a wild beast. But the particu-
lar end has reference to each person’s mode of
life and his will. The lute-player acts as a lute-
player, the carpenter as a carpenter, the philos-
opher as a philosopher, the rhetorician as a
rhetorician. When then you say, “Come and
hear me read to you”: take care first of all that
‘ilomer, Iliad, vi. 490.

you arc not doing this without a purpose; then,
if you have discovered that you are doing this
with reference to a purpose, consider if it is the
right purpose. Do you wish to do good or to be
praised? Immediately you hear him saying,
“To me what is the value of praise from the
many?” and he says well, for it is of no value
to a musician, so far as he is a musician, nor to
a geometrician. Do you then wish to be use-
ful? in what? tell us that we may run to your
audience-room. Now can a man do anything
useful to others, who has not received some-
thing useful himself? No, for neither can a
man do anything useful in the carpenter’s art,
unless he is a carpenter; nor in the shoemaker’s
art, unless he is a shoemaker.

Do you wish to know then if you have re-
ceived any advantage? Produce your opinions,
philosopher. What is the thing which desire
promises? Not to fail in the object. What docs
aversion promise? Not to fall into that which
you would avoid. Well; do we fulfill their
promise? Tell me the truth; but if you lie, I
will tell you. Lately when your hearers came
together rather coldly, and did not give you
applause, you went away humbled. Lately
again when you had been praised, you went
about and said to all, “What did you think of
me?” “Wonderful, master, I swear by all that
is dear to me.” “But how did I treat of that
particular matter?” “Which?” “The passage
in which I described Pan and the nymphs?”
“Excellently.” Then do you tell me that in de-
sire and in aversion you are acting according
to nature? Begone; try to persuade somebody
else. Did you not praise a certain person con-
trary to your opinion? and did you not flatter
a certain person who was the son of a senator ?
Would you wish your own children to be such
persons? “I hope not.” Why then did you
praise and flatter him? “He is an ingenuous
youth and listens well to discourses.” How is
this? “He admires me.” You have stated your
proof. Then what do you think? do not these
very people secretly despise you? When, then,
a man who is conscious that he has neither
done any good nor ever thinks of it, finds a
philosopher who says, “YoU'liave a great natu-
ral talent, and you have a candid and good
disposition,” what else do you think that he
says except this, “This man has some need of

202

EPICTETUS

me?” Or tell me what act that indicates a
great mind has he shown? Observe; he has
been in your company a long time; he has
listened to your discourses, he has heard you
reading; has he become more modest? has he
been turned to reflect on himself? has he per-
ceived in what a bad state he is? has he cast
away self-conceit? does he look for a person to
teach him? “He does.” A man who will teach
him to live? No, fool, but how to talk; for it
is for this that he admires you also. Listen and
hear what he says: “This man writes with
perfect art, much better than Dion.” This is
altogether another thing. Does he say, “This
man is modest, faithful, free from perturba-
tions?” and even if he did say it, I should say
to him, “Since this man is faithful, tell me
what this faithful man is.” And if he could
not tell me, I should add this, “First under-
stand what you say, then speak.”

You, then, who are in a wretched plight and
gaping after applause and counting your audi-
tors, do you intend to be useful to others? “To-
day many more attended my discourse.” “Yes,
many; we suppose five hundred.” “That is
nothing; suppose that there were a thousand.”
“Dion never had so many hearers.” “HoW
could he?” “And they understand what is said
beautifully.” “What is fine, master, can move
even a stone.” See, these are the words of a
philosopher. This is the disposition of a man
who will do good to others; here is a man
who has listened to discourses, who has read
what is written about Socrates as Socratic, not
as the compositions of Lysias and Isocrates. “I
have often wondered by what arguments.”
Not so, but “by what argument”: this is more
exact than that. What, have you read the
words at all in a different way from that in
which you read little odes? For if you read
them as you ought, you would not have been
attending to such matters, but you would
rather have been looking to these words:
“Anytus and Melitus are able to kill me, but
they cannot harm me”: and “1 am always of
such a disposition as to pay regard to nothing
of my own except to the reason which on in-
quiry seems to me the best.”* Hence who
ever heard Socrates say, “I know something
and I teach”; but he used to send different

> Plato Crito, 46.

people to different teachers. Therefore they
used to come to him and ask to be introduced
to philosophers by him; and he would take
them and recommend them. Not so; but as he
accompanied them he would say, “Hear me
to-day discoursing in the house of Quadratus.”
Why should I hear you? Do you wish to show
me that you put words together cleverly? You
put them together, man; and what good will
it do you? “But only praise me.” What do you
mean by praising? “Say to me, “Admirable,
wonderful.” Well, I say so. But if that is
praise whatever it is which philosophers mean
by the name of good, what have I to praise in
you? If it is good to speak well, teach me, and
I will praise you. “What then? ought a man to
listen to such things without pleasure?” I
hope not. For my part I do not listen even to
a lute-player without pleasure. Must I then for
this reason stand and play the lute? Hear
what Socrates says, “Nor would it Ik* seemly
for a man of my age, like a young man com-
posing adilrcsses, to appear before you.”®
“Like a young man,” he says. For in truth
this small art is an elegant thing, to .select
words, and to put them together, and to come
forward and gracefully to read them or to
speak, and while he is reading to say, “There
are not many who can do these things, 1 swear
by all that you value.”

Does a philosopher invite people to hear
him? As the sun himself draws men to him,
or as food docs, docs not the philosopher also
draw to him those who will receive benefit?
What physician invites a man to be treated by
him? Indeed I now hear that even the physi-
cians in Rome do invite patients, but when I
lived there, the physicians were invited. “I in-
vite you to come and hear that things arc in a
bad way for you, and that you are taking care
of everything except that of which you ought
to take care, and that you arc ignorant of the
good and the bad and arc unfortunate and
unhappy.” A fine kind of invitation: and yet
if the words of the philosopher do not pro-
duce this effect on you, he is dead, and so is
the sfKaker. Rufus was used to say: “If you
have leisure to praise me, I am speaking to no
purpose.” Accordingly he used to speak in
suet* a way that every one of us who were sit-

* Plato Apfih jy.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

ting there supposed that some one had ac-
cused him before Rufus: he so touched on
what was doing, he so placed before the eyes
every man’s faults.

The philosopher’s school, ye men, is a sur-
gery: you ought not to go out of it with pleas-
ure, but with pain. For you are not in sound
health when you enter: one has dislocated his
shoulder, another has an abscess, a third a
fistula, and a fourth a headache. Then do I sit
and utter to you little thoughts and exclama-
tions that you may praise me and go away, one
with his shoulder in the same condition in
which he entered, another with his head still
aching, and a third with his Bstula or his ab-
scess just as they were? Is it for this then that
young men shall quit home, and leave their
parents and their friends and kinsmen and
property, that they may say to you, “Wonder-
ful!” when you are uttering your exclama-
tions. Did Socrates do this, or Zeno, or Cle-
anthes?

What then? is there not the hortatory style?
Who denies it? as there is the style of refuta-
tion, and the didactic style. Who, then, ever
reckoned a fourth style with these, the style of
display? What is the hortatory style? To be
able to show both to one person and to many
the struggle in which they arc engaged, and
that they think more about anything than
about what they really wish. For they wish the
things which lead to happiness, but they look
for them in the wrong place. In order that this
may be done, a thousand scats must be placed
and men must be invited to listen, and you
must ascend the pulpit in a fine robe or cloak
and describe the death of Achilles. Cease, I en-
treat you by the gods, to spoil good words and
good acts as much as you can. Nothing can
have more pow'er in exhortation than when
the speaker shows to the hearers that he has
heed of them. But tell me who when he hears
you reading or discoursing is anxious about
himself or turns to reflect on himself? or when
he has gone out says, “The philosopher hit me
Well: I must no longer do these things.” But
does he not, even if you have a great reputa-
tion, say to some person, “He spoke finely
about Xerxes”; and another says, “No, but
about the battle of Thermopylae”? Is this lis-
tening to a philosopher?

Chapter 24. That we ought not to be moved
by a desire of those things which are not in
our power

Let not that which in another is contrary to
nature be an evil to you: for you are not
formed by nature to be depressed with others
nor to be unhappy with others, but to be hap-
py with them. If a man is unhappy, remember
that his unhappiness is his own fault: for God
has made all men to be happy, to be free from
perturbations. For this purpose he has given
means to them, some things to each person as
his own, and other things not as his own: some
things subject to hindrance and compulsion
and deprivation; and these things are not a
man’s own: but the things which are not sub-
ject to hindrances are his own; and the nature
of good and evil, as it was fit to be done by him
who takes care of us and protects us like a
father, he has made our own. “But,” you say,
“I have parted from a certain person, and he
is grieved.” Why did he consider as his own
that which belongs to another? why, when he
looked on you and was rejoiced, did he not
also reckon that you are mortal, that it is nat-
ural for you to part from him for a foreign
country? Therefore he suffers the conse-
quences of his own folly. But why do you or
for what purpose bewail yourself? Is it that
you also have not thought of these things? but
like poor women who are good for nothing,
you have enjoyed all things in which you took
pleasure, as if you would always enjoy them,
both places and men and conversation; and
now you sit and weep because you do not see
the same persons and do not live in the same
places. Indeed you deserve this, to be more
wretched than crows and ravens who have the
power of flying where they please and chang-
ing their nests for others, and crossing the seas
without lamenting or regretting their former
condition. “Yes, but this happens to them be-
cause they arc irrational creatures.” Was rea-
son, then, given to us by the gods for the pur-
pose of unhappiness and misery, that we may
pass our lives in wretchedness and lamenta-
tion? Must all persons be immortal and must
no man go abroad, and must we ourselves not
go abroad, but remain rooted like plants; and,
if any of our familiar friends go abroad, must
W'e sit and weep; and, on the contrary, when

204 EPICTETUS

he returns, must we dance and clap our hands him so, and to him he looked when he was do-

like children?

Shall we not now wean ourselves and re-
member what we have heard from the philos-
ophers? if we did not listen to them as if they
were jugglers: they tell us that this world is
one city,' and the substance out of which it has
been formed is one, and that there must be a
certain period, and that some things must give
way to others, that some must be dissolved,
and others come in their place; some to remain
in the same place, and others to be moved; and
that all things are full of friendship, first of
the gods,* and then of men who by nature are
made to be of one family; and some must be
with one another, and others must be sepa-
rated, rejoicing in those who are with them,
and not grieving for those who are removed
from them; and man in addition to being by
nature of a noble temper and having a con-
tempt of all things which are not in the power
of his will, also possesses this property, not to
be rooted nor to be naturally fixed to the earth,
but to go at different times to different places,
sometimes from the urgency of certain occa-
sions, and at others merely for the sake of see-
ing. So it was with Ulysses, who saw
Of many men the states, and learned their ways^
And still earlier it was the fortune of Hercules
to visit all the inhabited world
Seeing men*s lawless deeds and their good rules
of law'}

casting out and clearing away their lawless-
ness and introducing in their place good rules
of law. And yet how many friends do you
think that he had in Thebes, how many in
Argos, how many in Athens? and how many
do you think that he gained by going about?
And he married also, when it seemed to him a
proper occasion, and begot children, and left
them without lamenting or regretting or leav-
ing them as orphans; for he knew that no man
is an orphan; but it is the father who takes
care of all men always and continuously. For
it was not as mere report that he had heard
that Zeus is the father of men, for he thought
that Zeus was his own father, and he called

> Sec ii. 5.

•Scciii. 13.

* Homer. Odyssey, i. 3

^ Homer, Odyssey, xvii. 487.

ing what he did. Therefore he was enabled to
live happily in ail places. And it is never pos-
sible for happiness and desire of what is not
present to come together. For that which is
happy must have all® that it desires, must re-
semble a person who is filled with food, and
must have neither thirst nor hunger. **But
Ulysses felt a desire for his wife and wept as
he sat on a rock." Do you attend to Homer
and his stories in everything? Or if Ulysses
really wept, what was he else than an unhappy
man? and what good man is unhappy? In
truth, the whole is badly administered, if Zeus
does not take care of his own citizens that they
may be happy like himself. But these things
are not lawful nor right to think of; and if
Ulysses did weep and lament, he was not a
good man. For who is good if he knows not
who he is? and who know's what he is, if he
forgets that things which have l)cen made are
perishable, and that it is not |X)ssible for one
human being to be with another always? To
desire, then, things which arc imp)ossiblc is to
have a slavish character and is foolish: it is the
part of a stranger, of a man who fights against
God in the only way that he i^n, by his opin-
ions.

“But my mother laments when she does
not see me,” Why has she not learned these
principles? and I do not say this, that we
should not take care that she may not lament,
but I say that we ought not to desire in every
way what is not our own. And the sorrow of
another is another’s sorrow: but my sorrow is
my own. I, then, will stop my own sorrow by
every means, for it is in my power: and the sor-
row of another 1 will endeavor to stop as far as
I can; but 1 will not attempt to , do it by every
means; for if I do, I shall be fighting against
God, I shall be opposing Zeui and shall be
placing myself against him in the administra-
tion of the universe; and the ireward of this
fighting against God and of this disobedience
not only will the children of my children pay,
but I also shall myself, both by day and by
night, startled by dreams, perturbed, trem-
bling at every piece of news, and having my
tranquillity depending on the letters of others.
Some person has arrived from Rome. “I only
* See *11. 2; Phil. 4. 18.

DISCOURSES,

hope that there is no harm.” But what harm
can happen to you, where you arc not? From
Hellas some one is come: “I hope that there is
no harm.” In this way every place may be the
cause of misfortune to you. Is it not enough
for you to be unfortunate there where you are,
and must you be so even beyond sea, and by
the report of letters? Is this the way in which
your affairs arc in a state of security? “Well,
then, suppose that my friends have died in the
places which arc far from me.” What else have
they suffered than that which is the condition
of mortals? Or how are you desirous at the
same time to live to old age, and at the same
time not to sec the death of any person whom
you love? Know you not that in the course of
a long time many and various kinds of things
must happen; that a fever shall overpower one,
a robber another, and a third a tyrant? Such is
the condition of things around us, such are
those who live with us in the world: cold and
heat, and unsuitable ways of living, and jour-
neys by land, and voyages by sea, and winds,
and various circumstances which surround us,
destroy one man, and banish another, and
throw one upon an embassy and another into
an army. Sit down, then, in a flutter at all these
things, lamenting, unhappy, unfortunate, de-
pendent on another, and dependent not on one
or two, but on ten thousands upon ten thou-
sands.

Did you hear this when you were with the
philosophers? did you learn this? do you not
know that human life is a warfare? that one
man must keep watch, another must go out as
a spy, and a third must fight? and it is not pos-
sible that all should be in one place, nor is it
better that it should be so. But you, neglecting
to do the commands of the general, complain
when anything more hard than usual is im-
posed on you, and you do not observe what
you make the army Income as far as it is in
your power; that if ail imitate you, no man
will dig a trench, no man will put a rampart
round, nor keep watch, nor expose himself to
danger, but will appear to be useless for the
purposes of an army. Again, in a vessel if you
go as a sailor, keep to one place and stick to it.
And if you arc ordered to climb the mast, re-
fuse; if to run to the head of the ship, refuse;
and what master of a ship will endure you?

BOOK III 205

and will he not pitch you overboard as a use-
less thing, an impediment only and bad ex-
ample to the other sailors? And so it is here
also: every man’s life is a kind of warfare, and
it is long and diversified. You must observe the
duty of a soldier and do everything at the nod
of the general; if it is possible, divining what
his wishes arc: for there is no resemblance be-
tween that general and this, neither in strength
nor in superiority of character. You are placed
in a great office of command and not in any
mean place; but you arc always a senator. Do
you not know that such a man must give little
time to the affairs of his household, but be
often away from home, cither as a governor or
one who is governed, or discharging some
office, or serving in war or acting as a judge?
Then do you tell me that you wish, as a plant,
to be fixed to the same places and to be rooted?
“Yes, for it is pleasant.” Who says that it is
not? but a soup is pleasant, and a handsome
woman is pleasant. What else do those say
who make pleasure their end? Do you not see
of what men ypu have uttered the language?
that it is the language of Epicureans and cata-
mites? Next while you arc doing what they do
and holding their opinions, do you speak to us
the words of Zeno and of Socrates? Will you
not throw away as far as you can the things
belonging to others with which you decorate
yourself, though they do not fit you at all?
For what else do they desire than to sleep
without hindrance and free from compulsion,
and when they have risen to yawn at their
leisure, and to w^ash the face, then write and
read what they choose, and then talk about
some trifling matter being praised by their
friends whatever they may say, then to go forth
for a walk, and having walked about a little to
bathe, and then eat and sleep, such sleep as is
the fashion of such men? w^hy need we say
bow? for one can easily conjecture. Come, do
you also tell your own way of passing the time
which you desire, you who arc an admirer of
truth and of Socrates and Diogenes. What do
you wish to do in Athens? the same, or some-
thing else? Why then do y^ifcall yourself a
Stoic? Well, but they who falsely call them-
selves Roman citizens, arc severely punished;
and should those, who falsely claim so great
and reverend a thing and name, get off ud-

ao6 EPICTETUS

punished? or is this not possible, but the law
divine and strong and inevitable is this, which
exacts the severest punishments from those
who commit the greatest crimes? For what
does this law say? “Let him who pretends to
things which do not belong to him be a boast-
er, a vainglorious man: let him who disobeys
the divine administration be base, and a slave;
let him suffer grief, let him be envious, let him
pity; and in a word let him be unhappy and
lament.”

“Well then; do you wish me to pay court to
a certain person? to go to his doors?” If reason
requires this to be done for the sake of coun-
try, for the sake of kinsmen, for the sake of
mankind, why should you not go? You are
not ashamed to go to the doors of a shoemaker,
when you are in want of shoes, nor to the door
of a gardener, when you want lettuces; and
are you ashamed to go to the doors of the rich
when you want anything? “Yes, for I have no
awe of a shoemaker.” Don’t feel any awe of
the rich. “Nor will I flatter the gardener.”
And do not flatter the rich. “I^ow, then, shall
I get what I want?” Do I say to you, “Go as
if you were certain to get what you want”?
And do not I only tell you that you may do
what is becoming to yourself? “Why, then,
should I still go?” That you may have gone,
that you may have discharged the duty of a
citizen, of a brother, of a friend. And further
remember that you have gone to the shoe-
maker, to the seller of vegetables, who have no
power in anything great or noble, though he
may sell dear. You go to buy lettuces: they cost
an obolus, but not a talent. So it is here also.
The matter is worth going for to the rich
man’s door. Well, I will go. It is worth talking
about. Let it be so; I will talk with him. But
you must also kiss his hand and flatter him
with praise. Away with that, it is a talent’s
worth: it is not profitable to me, nor to the
state nor to my friends, to have done that
which spoils a good citizen and a friend. “But
you will seem not to have been eager about the
matter, if you do not succeed.” Have you again
forgotten why you went? Know you not that
a good man does nothing for the sake of ap-
pearance, but for the sake of doing right?
“What advantage is it, then, to him to have
done right?” And what advantage is it to a

man who writes the name of Dion to write it
as he ought ? The advantage is to have written
it. “Is there no reward then?”^ Do you seek a
reward for a good man greater than doing
what is good and just? At Olympia you wish
for nothing more, but it seems to you enough
to be crowned at the games. Docs it seem to
you so small and worthless a thing to be good
and happy? For these purposes being intro-
duced by the gods into this city, and it being
now your duty to undertake the work of a
man, do you still want nurses also and a mam-
ma, and do foolish women by tbeir weeping
move you and make you effeminate? Will you
thus never cease to be a foolish child? know
you not that he who does the acts of a child,
the older he is, the more ridiculous he is?

In Athens did you see no one by going to his
house? “I visited any man that I pleased.”
Here also be ready to see, and you will see
whom you please: only let it he without mean-
ness, neither with desire nor with aversion,
and your affairs will be well managed. But
this result docs not dc[x:nd on going nor on
standing at the doors, but it dc|)ends on what
is within, on your opinions. When you have
learned not to value things which arc external,
and not dependent on the will, and to con-
sider that not one of them is your own, hut
that these things only are your own, to exer-
cise the Judgment well, to form opinions, to
move toward an object, to desire, to turn from
a thing, where is there any longer room for
flattery, where for meanness? why do you still
long for the quiet there, and for the places to
which you arc accustomed? Wait a little and
you will again find these places familiar; then,
if you are of so ignoble a nature, again if you
leave these also, weep and lament.

“How then shall I become of an affectionate
temper?” By being of a noble disposition, and
happy. For it is not reasonable to -be mean-
spirited nor to lament yourself, nor to depend
on another, nor even to blame'God or man. I
entreat you, become an affectionate person in
this way, by observing these rules. But if
through this affection, as you name it, you arc
going to be a slave and wretched, there is no
profit in being affectionate. And what pre-
vents you from loving another as a person sub-

* Marcus Aurelius, ix. 43.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

[ect to mortality, as one who may go away
from you. Did not Socrates love his own chil-
dren? He did; but it was as a free man, as one
who remembered that he must first be a friend
to the gods. For this reason he violated noth-
ing which was becoming to a good man,
neither in making his defense nor by fixing a
penalty on himself,' nor even in the former
part of his life when he was a senator or when
he was a soldier. But we are fully supplied
with every pretext for being of ignoble tem-
per, some for the sake of a child, some for a
mother, and others for brethren’s sake. But it
is not fit for us to be unhappy on account of
any person, but to be happy on account of all,
but chiefly on account of God who has made
us for this end. Well, did Diogenes love no-
body, who was so kind and so much a lover of
all that for mankind in general he willingly
undertook so much labour and bodily suffer-
ings? He did love mankind, but how? As be-
came a minister of God, at the same time car-
ing for men, and being also subject to God.
For this reason all the earth was his country,
and no particular place; and w'hen he was
taken prisoner he did not regret Athens nor
his associates and friends there, but even he
became familiar with the pirates and tried to
improve them; and being sold afterward he
lived in Corinth as before at Athens; and he
would have behaved the same, if he had gone
to the country of the Perrharbi. Thus is free-
dom acquired. For this reason he used to say,
“Ever since Antisthencs made me free, I have
not been a slave.” How did Antisthenes make
him free? Hear what he says: “Antisthencs
taught me what is my own, and what is not
my own; possessions arc not my own, nor kins-
men, domestics, fricmls, nor reputation, nor
places familiar, nor mode of life; all these be-
long to others.” What then is your own? “The
use of appearances. This he showed to me,
that I possess it free from hindrance, and from
compulsion, no person can put an obstacle in
my way, no person can force me to use appear-
ances otherwise than I wish.” Who then has
any power over me? Philip or Alexander, or
Perdiccas or the Great King? How have they
this power? For if a man is going to be over-
powered by a man, he must long before be
* Plato Apology, 36.

207

overpowered by things. If, then, pleasure is not
able to subdue a man, nor pain, nor fame, nor
wealth, but he is able, when he chooses, to spit
out all his poor body in a man’s face and de-
part from life, whose slave can he still be?
But if he dwelt with pleasure in Athens, and
was overpowered by this manner of life, his
affairs would have been at every man’s com-
mand; the stronger would have had the power
of grieving him. How do you think that Diog-
enes would have flattered the pirates that they
might sell him to some Athenian, that some
time he might see that beautiful Pira-us, and
the I-ong Walls and the Acropolis? In what
condition would you see them? As a captive, a
slave and mean: and what would be the use
of it for you? “Not so: but I should sec* them
as a free man.” Show me, how you would be
free. Observe, some person has caught you,
who leads you away from your accustomed
place of abode and says, “You are my slave,
for it is in my power to hinder you from living
as you please, it is in my power to treat you
gently, and to humble you: when I choose, on
the contrary you are cheerful and go elated to
Athens.” What do you say to him who treats
you as a slave? What means have you of find-
ing one who will rescue you from slavery ? Or
cannot you even look him in the face, but
without saying more do you entreat to be set
free? Man, you ought to go gladly to prison,
hastening, going before those w^ho lead you
there. Then, I ask you, are you unwilling to
live in Rome and desire to live in Hellas? And
when you must die, w'ill you then also fill us
wuth your lamentations, because you will not
see Athens nor walk about in the Lyceion?
Have you gone abroad for this? was it for this
reason you have sought to find some person
from w'horn you might receive benefit? What
benefit? That you may solve syllogisms more
readily, or handle hypothetical arguments?
and for this reason did you leave brother,
country, friends, your family, that you might
return when you had learned these things? So
you did not go abroad to obtain constancy of
mind, nor freedom from pertjdVbalion, nor in
order that, being secure from harm, you may
never complain of any person, accuse no per-
son, and no man may w'rong you, and thus
you may maintain your relative |X)sition with-

ao8 EPICTETUS

out impediment? This is a fine traffic that you
have gone abroad for in syllogisms and sophis-
tical arguments and hypothetical: if you like,
take your place in the agora and proclaim
them for sale like dealers in physic. Will you
not deny even all that you have learned that
you may not bring a bad name on your the-
orems as useless? What harm has philosophy
done you? Wherein has Chrysippus injured
you that you should prove by your acts that his
labours are useless? Were the evils that you
had there not enough, those which were the
cause of your pain and lamentation, even if
you had not gone abroad? Have you added
more to the list? And if you again have other
acquaintances and friends, you will have more
causes for lamentation; and the same also if
you take an affection for another country.
Why, then, do you live to surround yourself
with other sorrows upon sorrows through
which you are unhappy? Then, I ask you, do
you call this affection? What affection, man!
If it is a good thing, it is the cause of no evil:
if it is bad, I have nothing to do with it. I am
formed by nature for my own good: I am not
formed for my own evil.

What then is the discipline for this purpose?
First of all the highest and the principal, and
that which stands as it were at the entrance, is
this; when you are delighted with anything,
be delighted as with a thing which is not one
of those which cannot be taken away, but as
with something of such a kind, as an earthen
pot is, or a glass cup, that, when it has been
broken, you may remember what it was and
may not be troubled. So in this matter also: if
you kiss your own child, or your brother or
friend, never give full license to the appear-
ance, and allow not your pleasure to go as far
as it chooses; but check it, and curb it as those
who stand behind men in their triumphs and
remind them that they are mortal. Do you also
remind yourself in like manner, that he whom
you love is mortal, and that what you love is
nothing of your own: it has been given to you
for the present, not that it should not be taken
from you, nor has it been given to you for all
time, but as a fig is given to you or a bunch of
grapes at the appointed season of the year.
But if you wish for these things in winter, you
are a fool. So if you wish for your son or friend

when it is not allowed to you, you must know
that you are wishing for a fig in winter. For
such as winter is to a fig, such is every event
which happens from the universe to the things
which are taken away according to its nature.
And further, at the times when you are de-
lighted with a thing, place before yourself the
contrary appearances. What harm is it while
you arc kissing your child to say with a lisping
voice, “To-morrow you will die”; and to a
friend also, “To-morrow you will go away or
I shall, and never shall we see one another
again”? “But these arc words of bad omen,”
And some incantations also are of bad omen;
but because they arc useful, I don’t care for
this; only let them be useful. “But do you call
things to be of bad omen except those which
are significant of some evil?” Cowardice is a
word of bad omen, and meanness of spirit,
and sorrow, and grief and shamelessness.
These words arc of bad omen: and yet wc
ought not to hesitate to utter them in order
to protect ourselves against the things. Do you
tell me that a name which is significant of
any natural thing is of evil omen? say that
even for the cars of corn to be reaped is of
bad omen, for it signifies the destruction of
the cars, but not of the world. Say that the fall-
ing of the leaves also is of bad omen, and for
the dried fig to take the place of the green fig,
and for raisins to be made from the grapes.
For all these things are changes from a former
state into other states; not a destruction, but a
certain fixed economy and administration.
Such is going away from home and a small
change: such is death, a greater change, not
from the state which now is to that which is
not, but to that which is not now.' “Shall I
then no longer exist?” You will not exist, but
you will be something else, of which the world
now has need: for you also came into existence
not when you chose, but whea the world had
need of you.*

Wherefore the wise and good man, remem-
bering who he is and whence he came, and by
whom he was produced, is attentive only to
this, bow he may fill his place with due regu-
larity and obediently to God. “Dost Thou still

^ Marcus Aurelius, xi. 35. Compare Epictetus, iii. 13*
and Iv. 7.

* Compare Marcus Aurelius, iv. 14, 21; and I Cor. x5-
za» I9> ytt 35, 36, 50, and x6. 8.

DISCOURSES,

wish me to exist? I will continue to exist as
free, as noble in nature, as Thou hast wished
me to exist: for Thou hast made me free from
hindrance in that which is my own. But hast
Thou no further need of me? I thank Thee;
and so far I have remained for Thy sake, and
for the sake of no other [)crson, and now in
obedience to Thee I depart.” “How dost thou
depart?” Again, I say, as Thou hast pleased,
as free, as Thy servant, as one who has known
Thy commands and Thy prohibifions. And so
long as I shall stay in Thy service, whom dost
Thou will me to be? A prince or a private
man, a senator or a common person, a soldier
or a general, a teacher or a master of a family?
whatever place and position Thou mayest as-
sign to me, as Socrates says, “I will die ten
thousand times rather than desert them.” And
where dost Thou will me to be? in Rome or
Athens, or Thebes or Gyara. Only remember
me there where I an*, ft Thou sendest me to a
place where there are no means for men living
according to nature, I shall not depart in dis-
obedience to Thee, but as if Thou wast giving
me the signal to retreat: I do not leave Thee,
let this be far from my intention, but I perceive
that Thou hast no need of me. If means of
living according to nature be allowed me, I
will seek no other place than that in which I
am, or other men than those among whom I
am.

Let these thoughts be ready to hand by night
and by day: these you should write, these you
should read: about these you should talk to
yourself, and to others. Ask a man, “Can you
help me at all for this purpose?” and further,
go to another and to another. Then if any-
thing that is said be contrary to your wish,
this reflection first will immediately relieve
you, that it is not uncxjxrcled. For it is a great
thing in all cases to say, “I knew that I begot
a 5on who is mortal.” For so you also will say,

“I knew that I am mortal, I knew that I may
leave my home, I knew that I may be ejected
from it, I knew that I may be led to prison.”
Then if you turn round, and look to yourself,
and seek the place from which comes that
which has happened, you will forthwith re-
collect that it comes from the place of things
which arc out of the power of the will, and of
things which arc not my own. “What then is

BOOK III 209

it to me?” Then, you will ask, and this is
the chief thing: “And who is it that sent it?”
The leader, or the general, the state, the law of
the state. Give it me then, for I must always
obey the law in everything. Then, when the
appearance pains you, for it is not in your
power to prevent this, contend against it by
the aid of reason, conquer it: do not allow it to
gain strength nor to lead you to the conse-
quences by raising images such as it pleases
and as it pleases. If you be in Gyara, do not
imagine the mode of living at Rome, and how
many pleasures there were for him who lived
there and how many there would be for him
who returned to Rome: but fix your mind on
this matter, how a man who lives in Gyara
ought to live in Gyara like a man of courage.
And if you be in Rome, do not imagine what
the life in Athens is, but think only of the life
in Rome.

Then in the place of all other delights sub-
stitute this, that of being conscious that you arc
obeying God, that, not in word but in deed,
you are performing the acts of a wise and good
man. For what a thing it is for a man to be
able to say to himself, “Now, whatever the rest
may say in solemn manner in the schools and
may be judged to be saying in a way contrary
to common opinion, this I am doing; and they
arc sitting and are discoursing of my virtues
and inquiring about me and praising me; and
of this Zeus has willed that I shall receive from
myself a demonstration, and shall myself
know if He has a soldier such as He ought to
have, a citizen such as He ought to have, and
if He has chosen to produce me to the rest of
mankind as a witness of the things which are
independent of the will: ‘See that you fear
without reason, that you foolishly desire what
you do desire; seek not the good in things ex-
ternal; seek it in yourselves: if you do not, you
will not find it.’ For this purpose He leads me
at one lime hither, at another time sends me
thither, shows me to men as poor, without
authority, and sick; sends me to Gyara, leads
me into prison, not because He hates me, far
from him be such a meanin^for who hates
the best of his servants? nor yet because He
cares not for me, for He docs not neglect any
even of the smallest things;* but He docs this

^ Compare i. 12, ii. 14, iii. 26; and Matt. JO. 29. 30.

EPICTETUS

for the purpose of exercising me and making
use of me as a witness to others. Being ap-
pointed to such a service, do I still care about
the place in which I am, or with whom I am,
or what men say about me? and do I not en-
tirely direct my thoughts to God and to His
instructions and commands?”

Having these things always in hand, and
exercising them by yourself, and keeping them
in readiness, you will never be in want of one
to comfort you and strengthen you. For it is
not shameful to be without something to cat,
but not to have reason sufficient for keeping
away fear and sorrow. But if once you have
gained exemption from sorrow and fear, will
there any longer be a tyrant for you, or a ty-
rant’s guard, or attendants on Caesar?^ Or shall
any appointment to offices at court cause you
pain, or shall those who sacrifice in the Capi-
tol, on the occasion of being named to certain
functions, cause pain to you who have received
so great authority from Zeus? Only do not
make a proud display of it, nor boast of it;
but show it by your acts; and if no man per-
ceives it, be satisfied that you are yourself in
a healthy state and happy.

Chapter 25. To those who fall off from their

purpose

Consider as to the things which you proposed
to yourself at first, which you have secured
and which you have not; and how you arc
pleased when you recall to memory the one
and are pained about the other; and if it is pos-
sible, recover the things wherein you failed.
For we must not shrink when we are engaged
in the greatest combat, but we must even take
blows.* For the combat before us is not in
wrestling and the Pancration, in which both
the successful and the unsuccessful may have
the greatest merit, or may have little, and in
truth may be very fortunate or very unfortu-
nate; but the combat is for good fortune
and happiness themselves. Well then, even if
we have renounced the contest in this matter,
no man hinders us from renewing the combat
again, and we arc not compelled to wait for
another four years that the games at Olympia
may come again; but as soon as you have rc-

* See i. 19.

^ Compare iii. 15.

covered and restored yourself, and employ the
same zeal, you may renew the combat again;
and if again you renounce it, you may again
renew it; and if you once gain the victory, you
are like him who has never renounced the
combat. Only do not, through a habit of doing
the same thing, begin to do it with pleasure,
and then like a bad athlete go about after be-
ing conquered in all the circuit of the games
like quails who have run away.

“The sight of a beautiful young girl over-
powers me. Well, have I not been overpowered
before? An inclination arises in me to find
fault with a person; for have I not found fault
w'ith him before?” You speak to us as if you
had come off free from harm, just as if a man
should say to his physician who forbids him
to bathe, “Have I not bathed before?” If, then,
the physician can say to him, “Well, and what,
then, happened to you after the bath? Had
you not a fever, had you not a headache?”
And when you found fault with a person late-
ly, did you not do the act of a malignant per-
son, of a trifling babbler; did you not cherish
this habit in you by adding to it the corre-
sponding acts? And when you were overpow-
ered by the young girl, did you come off un-
harmed? Why, then, do you talk of what you
did before? You ought, I thiTIk, remembering
what you did, as slaves rcmcmlx^r the blows
w'hich they have received, to abstain from the
same faults. But the one case is not like the
other; for in the case of slaves the pain causes
the remembrance: but in the case of your
faults, wliat is the pain, what is the punish-
ment; for when have you been accustomed to
fly from evil acts? Sufferings, then, of the try-
ing character arc useful to us, whether we
choose or not.

Chapter 26. To those who fear wanP
Are you not ashamed at lx!ing more cowardly
and more mean than fugitive slaves? How do
they when they run away leave their masters?
on what estates do they de|:)Cnd, and what
domestics do they rely on? Do they not, after
stealing a little which is enough for the first
days, then afterward move on dirough land or
through sea, contriving one method after an-
other for maintaining their lives? And what
s Compare Matt. 6. 25-3^; Luke 12. 22-30.

DISCOURSES, BOOK III

fugitive slave ever died of hunger? But you are
afraid lest necessary things should fail you,
and are sleepless by night. Wretch, are you so
blind, and don’t you see the road to which the
want of necessaries leads? “Well, where does
it lead?” To the same place to which a fever
leads, or a stone that falls on you, to death.
Have you not often said this yourself to your
companions? have you not read much of this
kind, and written much? and how often have
you boasted that you were easy as to death?

“Yes: but my wife and children also suffer
hunger.” Well then, does their hunger lead to
any other place? Is there not the same descent
to some place for them also? Is not there the
same state below for them ? Do you not choose,
then, to look to that place full of boldness
against every want and deficiency, to that place
to which both the richest and those who have
held the highest offices, and kings themselves
and tyrants must descend? or to which you
will descend hungry, if it should so happen,
but they burst by indigestion and drunkenness.
What beggar did you hardly ever see who was
not an old man, and even of extreme old age?
But chilled with cold day and night, and lying
on the ground, and eating only what is abso-
lutely necessary they approach near to the im-
possibility of dying. Cannot you write? Can-
not you leach children? Cannot you be a
watchman at another person’s door? “But it is
shameful to come to such necessity.” Learn,
then, first what arc the things which are
shameful, and then tell us that you are a phi-
losopher: but at present do not, even if any
other man call you so, allow it.

Is that shameful to you which is not your
own act, that of which you are not the cause,
that which has come to you by accident, as a
headache, as a fever? If your parents were
poor, and left their property to others, and if
while they live, they do not help you at all, is
this shameful to you? Is this what you learned
with the philosophers? Did you never hear
that the thing which is shameful ought to be
blamed, and that which is blamablc is worthy
of blame? Whom do you blame for an act
which is not his own, which he did not do
himself? Did you, then, make your father such
as he is, or is it in your pow'cr to improve him?
Is this power given to you? Well then, ought

you to wish the things which are not given to
you, or to be ashamed if you do not obtain
them? And have you also been accustomed
while you were studying philosophy to look to
others and to hope for nothing from yourself?
Lament then and groan and eat with fear that
you may not have food to-morrow. Tremble
about your poor slaves lest they steal, lest they
run away, lest they die. So live, and continue to
live, you who in name only have approached
philosophy and have disgraced its theorems as
far as you can by showing them to be useless
and unprofitable to those who take them up;
you who have never sought constancy, free-
dom from perturbation, and from passions:
you who have not sought any person for the
sake of this object, but many for the sake of
syllogisms; you who have never thoroughly
examined any of these appearances by your-
self, “Am I able to bear, or am I not able to
bear? What remains for me to do?” But as if
all your affairs were well and secure, you have
been resting on the third topic, ^ that of things
being unchanged, in order that you may pos-
sess unchanged — what? cowardice, mean spir-
it, the admiration of the rich, desire without
attaining any end, and avoidance which fails
in the attempt? About security in these things
you have been anxious.

Ought you not to have gained something in
addition from reason and, then, to have pro-
tected this with security? And w'hom did you
ever see building a battlement all round and
not encircling it with a wall? And what door-
keeper is placed with no door to watch? But
you practise in order to be able to prove —
what? You practise that you may not be tossed
as on the sea through sophisms, and tossed
about from what? Show me first what you
hold, what you measure, or what you weigh;
and show me the scales or the medimnus; or
how long will you go on measuring the dust?
Ought you not to demonstrate those things
which make men happy, which make things
go on for them in the way as they wish, and
why we ought to blame no man, accuse no
man, and acquiesce in the administration of
the^universe? Show me these. “See, I show
them: I will resolve syllo|5isms for you.” This
is the measure, slave; but it is not the thing

^ Sec iii. 2.

212 EPICTETUS

measured. Therefore you are now paying the bourcr, nor to a shoemaker: and to the good

penalty for what you neglected, philosophy:
you tremble, you lie awake, you advise with
all persons; and if your deliberations are not
likely to please ail, you think that you have
deliberated ill. Then you fear hunger, as you
suppose: but it is not hunger that you fear, but
you are afraid that you will not have a cook,
that you will not have another to purchase
provisions for the table, a third to take off your
shoes, a fourth to dress you, others to rub you,
and to follow you, in order that in the bath,
when you have taken off your clothes and
stretched yourself out like those who are cruci-
fied you may be rubbed on this side and on
that, and then the aliptes may say, ^'Change
his position, present the side, take hold of his
head, show the shoulder”; and then when you
have left the bath and gone home, you may
call out, “Does no one bring something to
cat?” And then, “Take away the tables,
sponge them”: you are afraid of this, that you
may not be able to lead the life of a sick man.
But learn the life of those who are in health,
how slaves live, how labourers, how those live
who are genuine philosophers; how Socrates
lived, who had a wife and children; how
Diogenes lived, and how Clcanthes, who at-
tended to the school and drew water. If you
choose to have these things, you will have
them everywhere, and you will live in full con-
fidence. Confiding in what? In that alone in
which a man can confide, in that which is
secure, in that which is not subject to hin-
drance, in that which cannot be taken away,
that is, in your own will. And why have you
made yourself so useless and good for nothing
that no man will choose to receive you into his
house, no man to take care of you? but if a
utensil entire and useful were cast abroad,
every man who found it would take it up and
think it a gain; but no man will take you up,
and every man will consider you a loss. So
cannot you discharge the office of a dog, or of
a cock? Why then do you choose to live any
longer, when you are what you are?

Does any good man fear that he shall fail
to have food? To the blind it does not fail, to
the lame it does not: shall it fail to a good
man? And to a good soldier there does not
fail to be one who gives him pay, nor to a la-

man shall there be wanting such a person?
Does God thus neglect the things that He has
established. His ministers. His witnesses,
whom alone He employs as examples to the
uninstructed, both that He exists, and admin-
isters well the whole, and does not neglect hu-
man affairs, and that to a good man there is no
evil either when he is living or when he is
dead? What, then, when He docs not supply
him with food? What else does He do than‘
like a good general He has given me the signal
to retreat? I obey, I follow, assenting to the
words of the Commander, praising His acts:
for I came when it pleased Him, and I will
also go away when it pleases Him; and while
I lived, it was my duty to praise God both by
myself, and to each person severally and to
many.® He does not supply me with many
things, nor with abundance, He docs not will
me to live luxuriously; for neither did He sup-
ply Hercules who was his own son; but an-
other was king of Argos and Mycena:, and
Hercules obeyed orders, and laboured, and was
exercised. And Eurystheus was what he was,
neither king of Argos nor of Myccnas for he
was not even king of himself; but Hercules
was ruler and leader of the whole earth and
sea, who purged away lawlessness, and intro-
duced justice and holiness;® and he did these
things both naked and alone. And when Ulys-
ses was cast out shipwrecked, did want hu-
miliate him, did it break his spirit? but how
did he go off to the virgins to ask for neces-
saries, to beg which is considered most shame-
ful?^

As a lion bred in the mountains trusting in his
strength?

Relying on what? Not on reputation nor on
wealth nor on the power of a magistrate, but
on his own strength, that is, pn his opinions
about the things which arc in pur power and
those which are not. For thege arc the only
things which make men frep, which make
them escape from hindrance, ^hich raise the
head of those who are depressed, which make
them look with steady eyes on the rich and on

* Sec i. 29. ■ See i. 16.

* Compare Heb. 1 1 . and 12.

^ Homer, Odysseyt vi. 127,

^Ibid, vi. 130.

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

tyrants. And this was the gift given to the
philosopher. But you will not come forth bold»
but trembling about your trifling garments
and silver vessels. Unhappy man, have you
thus wasted your time till now?

“What, then, if I shall be sick?” You will be
sick in such a way as you ought to be. “Who
will take care of me?” God; your friends. “I
shall lie down on a hard bed.” But you will lie
down like a man. “I shall not have a con-
venient chamber.” You will be sick in an in-
convenient chamber. “Who will provide for

213

me the necessary food?” Those who provide
for others also. You will be sick like Manes.
“And what, also, will be the end of the sick-
ness? Any other than death?” Do you then
consider that this the chief of all evils to man
and the chief mark of mean spirit and of cow-
ardice is not death, but rather the fear of
death? Against this fear then I advise you
to exercise yourself: to this let all your rea-
soning tend, your exercises, and reading; and
you will know that thus only are men made
free.

• BOOK FOUR •

Chapter i. About freedom
He is free who lives as he wishes to live; who
is neither subject to compulsion nor to hin-
drance, nor to force; whose movements to ac-
tion are not imnrdcd, whose desires attain
their purpose, and who does not fall into that
which he would avoid. Who, then, chooses to
live in error? No man. Who chooses to live de-
ceived, liable to mistake, unjust, unrestrained,
discontented, mean? No man. Not one then of
the bad lives as he wishes; nor is he, then, free.
And who chooses to live in sorrow, fear, envy,
pity, desiring and failing in his desires, at-
tempting to avoid something and falling into
it? Not one. Do we then find any of the bad
free from sorrow, free from fear, who does not
fall into that which he would avoid, and does
not obtain that which he wishes? Not one;
nor then do we find any bad man free.^

If, then, a man who has been twice consul
should hear this, if you add, “But you are a
wise man; this is nothing to you”: he will
pardon you. But if you tell him the truth, and
say, “You differ not at all from those who have
been thrice sold as to being yourself not a
slave,” what else ought you to expect than
blows? For he says, “What, I a slave, I whose
father was free, whose mother was free, I
whom no man can purchase: I am also of sena-
torial rank, and a friend of Caesar, and I have
been a consul, and I own many slaves.” In the
first place, most excellent senatorial man, per-
haps your father also was a slave in the same
>John8.34.

kind of servitude, and your mother, and your
grandfather aiid all your ancestors in an as-
cending series. But even if they were as free as
it is possible, what is this to you? What if they
were of a noble nature, and you of a mean
nature; if they were fearless, and you a coward;
if they had the power of self-restraint, and you
are not able to exercise it.

“And what,” you may say, “has this to do
with being a slave?” Docs it seem to you to be
nothing to do a thing unwillingly, with com-
pulsion, with groans, has this nothing to do
with being a slave? “It is something,” you
say: "but who is able to compel me, except the
lord of all, Caesar?” Then even you yourself
have admitted that you have one master. But
that he is the common master of all, as you
say, let not this console you at all: but know
that you are a slave in a great family. So also
the people of Nicopolis are used to exclaim,
“By the fortune of Caesar,* we arc free.”

However, if you please, let us not speak of
Caesar at present. But tell me this: did you
never love any person, a young girl, or slave,
or free? What then is this with respect to be-
ing a slave or free? Were you never com-
manded by the person beloved to do some-
thing which you did not wish to do? have you
never flattered your little slave? have you
never kissed her feet? And yet if any man
compelled you to kiss Caesar’s feet, you would
think it an insult and exoe&ive tyranny. What
else, then, is slavery? Did you never go out by

* See ii. 30.

EPICTETUS

night to some place whither you did not wish
to go, did you not expend what you did not
wish to expend, did you not utter words with
sighs and groans, did you not submit to abuse
and to be excluded?* But if you are ashamed
to confess your own acts, see what Thraso-
nides says and does, who having seen so much
military service as perhaps not even you have,
first of all went out by night, when Geta does
not venture out, but if he were compelled by
his master, would have cried out much and
would have gone out lamenting his bitter
slavery. Next, what does Thrasonides say? “A
worthless girl has enslaved me, me whom no
enemy ever did.” Unhappy man, who are the
slave even of a girl, and a worthless girl. Why
then do you still call yourself free? and why
do you talk of your service in the army? Then
he calls for a sword and is angry with him
who out of kindness refuses it; and he sends
presents to her who hates him, and entreats
and weeps, and on the other hand, having had
a little success, he is elated. But even then
how? was he free enough neither to desire nor
to fear?

Now consider in the case of animals, how
we employ the notion of liberty. Men keep
tame lions shut up, and feed them, and some
take them about; and who w'ill say that this
lion is free? Is it not the fact that the more he
lives at his ease, so much the more he is in a
slavish condition? and who if he had percep-
tion and reason would wish to be one of these
lions? Well, these birds when they arc caught
and are kept shut up, how much do they suffer
in their attempts to escape? and some of them
die of hunger rather than submit to such a
kind of life. And as many of them as live,
hardly live and with suffering pine away; and
if they ever find any opening, they make their
escape. So much do they desire their natural
liberty, and to be independent and free from
hindrance. And what harm is there to you in
this? “What do you say? I am formed by na-
ture to fly where I choose, to live in the open
air, to sing when I choose: you deprive me of
all this, and say, ‘What harm is it to you?’”
For this reason we shall say that those animals
only arc free which cannot endure capture,
but, as soon as they are caught, escape from

* Lucretius, iv. 1 172.

captivity by death. So Diogenes also some-
where says that there is one way to freedom,
and that is to die content: and he writes to the
Persian king, “You cannot enslave the Athe-
nian state any more than you can enslave
fishes.” “How is that? cannot I catch them?”
“If you catch them,” says Diogenes, “they will
immediately leave you, as Ashes do; for if you
catch a fish, it dies; and if these men that are
caught shall die, of what use to you is the
preparation for war?” These are the words of
a free man who had carefully examined the
thing and, as was natural, had discovered it.
But if you look for it m a different place from
where it is, what wonder if you never find it?

The slave wishes to be set free immediately.
Why? Do you think that he wishes to pay
money to the collectors of twentieths?* No;
but because he imagines that hitherto through
not having obtained this, he is hindered and
unfortunate. “If I shall be set free, immedi-
ately it is all happiness, 1 care for no man, I
speak to all as an equal and, like to them, I go
where I choose, I come from any place I
choose, and go where I choose.” Then he is set
free; and forthwith having no place where he
can eat, he looks for some man to flatter, some
one with whom he shall sup: then he cither
works with his body and efulurcs the most
dreadful things; and if he can obtain a man-
ger, he falls into a slavery much worse than
his former slavery; or even if he is become
rich, being a man without any knowletlgc of
what is good, he loves some little girl, and in
his happiness laments and desires to be a slave
again. He says, “what evil did I suffer in my
state of slavery? Another clothed me, another
supplied me with shoes, another fed rne,
another looked after me in sickness; and I
did only a few' services for him. But now a
wretched man, what things I suffer, being a
slave of many instead of to one. But how'cvcr,”
he says, “if I shall acquire rings, then I shall
live most prosperously and happily.” First, in
order to acquire these rings, he submits to that
which he is worthy of; then, when he ha.s ac-
quired them, it is again all the same. Then he
says, “if I shall be engaged in military service,
I am free from all evils.” He obtains military
service. He suffers as much as a flogged slave,

■Sccii. I.

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

and nevertheless he asks for a second service
and a third. After this, when he has put the
finishing stroke to his career and is become a
senator, then he becomes a slave by entering
into the assembly, then he serves the finer and
most splendid slavery — not to be a fool, but to
learn what Socrates taught, what is the nature
of each thing that exists, and that a man
should not rashly adapt preconceptions to the
several things which arc.* For this is the cause
to men of all their evils, the not being able to
adapt the general preconceptions to the sev-
eral things. But we have different opinions.
One man thinks that he is sick: not so how-
ever, but the fact is that he docs not adapt his
preconceptions right. Another thinks that he
is poor; another that he has a severe father or
mother; and another, again, that Caesar is not
favourable to him. But all this is one and only
one thing, the not knowing how to adapt the
preconceptions. For who has not a preconccp>-
tion of that which is bad, that it is hurtful,
that it ought to lx: avoided, that it ought in
every way to be guarded against? One precon-
ception is not repugnant to another,* only
where it comes to the matter of adaptation.
What then is this evil, which is both hurtful,
and a thing to be avoided? He answers, “Not
to be Caesar's friend.” He is gone far from the
mark, he has missed the adaptation, he is em-
barrassed, he seeks the things which arc not at
all pertinent to the matter; for when he has
succeeded in being Ca:sar’s friend, neverthe-
less he has failed in finding what he sought.
For what is that which every man seeks? To
live secure, to be happy, to do everything as he
wishes, not to be hindered, nor compelled.
When then he is become the friend of Caesar,
is he free from hindrance? free from compul-
sion, is he tranquil, is he happy? Of w'hom
shall we inquire? What more trustworthy
witness have we than this very man who is be-
come Caesar’s friend? Come forward and tell
us when did you sleep more quietly, now or
before you became Cxsar’s friend? Immedi-
ately you hear the answer, “Stop, I entreat you,
and do not mock me: you know not what mis-
eries I suffer, and sleep docs not come to me;
but one comes and says, ‘Cxsar is already

* Compare i. 2.

* Compare i. 2a.

awake, he is now going forth’: then come
troubles and cares.” Well, when did you sup
with more pleasure, now or before ? Hear what
he says about this also. He says that if he is not
invited, he is pained: and if he is invited, he
sups like a slave with his master, all the while
being anxious that he does not say or do any-
thing foolish. And what do you suppose that
he is afraid of; lest he should be lashed like a
slave? How can he expect anything so good?
No, but as befits so great a man, Caesar’s
friend, he is afraid that he may lose his head.
And when did you bathe more free from
trouble, and take your gymnastic exercise
more quietly? In fine, which kind of life did
you prefer? your present or your former life?
I can swear that no man is so stupid or so
ignorant of truth as not to bewail his own
misfortunes the nearer he is in friendship to
Caesar.

Since, then, neither those who arc called
kings live as they choose, nor the friends of
kings, who finally arc those who are free?
Seek, and you will find; for you have aids
from nature for the discovery of truth. But if
you arc not able yourself by going along these
ways only to discover that which follows, lis-
ten to those who have made the inquiry. What
do they say ? Does freedom seem to you a good
thing? “The greatest good.” Is it possible,
then, that he who obtains the greatest good can
be unhappy or fare badly? “No.” Whomso-
ever, then, you shall sec unhappy, unfortunate,
lamenting, confidently declare that they are
not free. “I do declare it.” We have now, then,
got away from buying and selling and from
such arrangements about matters of property;
for if you have rightly assented to these mat-
ters, if the Great King is unhappy, he cannot
be free, nor can a little king, nor a man of
consular rank, nor one who has been twice
consul. “Be it so.”

Further, then, answer me this question al-
so: Does freedom seem to you to be something
great and noble and valuable? “How should it
not seem so?” Is it possible, then, when a man
obtains anything so great and valuable and
noble to be mean? “It is npt possible.” When,
then, you see any man subject to another, or
flattering him contrary to his own opinion,
confidently affirm that this man also is not

ai6 EPICTETUS

free; and not only if he do this for a bit of divine. For if we wrongly assume that a cer-

supper, but also if he does it for a govern*
ment or a consulship: and call these men *1ittle
slaves” who for the sake of little matters do
these things, and those who do so for the sake
of great things call ”great slaves,” as they de*
serve to be. **Thi$ is admitted also.” Do you
think that freedom is a thing independent and
self-governing? “Certainly.” Whomsoever,
then, it is in the power of another to hinder
and compel, declare that he is not free. And
do not look, I entreat you, after his grand-
fathers and great-grandfathers, or inquire
about his being bought or sold; but if you hear
him saying from his heart and with feeling,
“Master,” even if the twelve fasces precede
him, call him a slave. And if you hear him say,
“Wretch that I am, how much I suffer,” call
him a slave. If, finally, you see him lamenting,
complaining, unhappy, call him a slave though
he wears a prxtexta. If, then, he is doing noth-
ing of this kind, do not yet say that he is free,
but learn his opinions, whether they arc sub-
ject to compulsion, or may produce hindrance,
or to bad fortune; and if you find him such,
call him a slave who has a holiday in the Sat-
urnalia: say that his master is from home: he
will return soon, and you will know what he
suffers. “Who will return?” Whoever has in
himself the power over anything which is,dc-
sired by the man, cither to give it to him or to
toke it away? “Thus, then, have we many
masters?” We have: for we have circum-
stances as masters prior to our present masters;
and these circumstances are many. Therefore
it must of necessity be that those who have the
power over any of these circumstances must be
our masters. For no man fears Czsar himself,
but he fears death, banishment, deprivation of
his property, prison, and disgrace. Nor does
any man love Czsar, unless Czsar is a person
of great merit, but he loves wealth, the office
of tribune, prztor or consul. When we love,
and hate, and fear these things, it must be that
those who have the power over them must be
our masters. Therefore we adore them even as
gods; for we think that what possesses the
power of conferring the greatest advantage on
us is divine. Then we wrongly assume that a
certain person has the power of conferring the
greatest advanuges; therefore he is something

tain person has the power of conferring the
greatest advantages, it is a necessary conse-
quence that the conclusion from these prem-
ises must be false.

What, then, is that which makes a man free
from hindrance and makes him his own mas-
ter? For wealth does not do it, nor consulship,
nor provincial government, nor royal power;
but something else must be discovered. What
then is that which, when we write, makes us
free from hindrance and unimpeded? “The
knowledge of the art of writing.” What, then,
is it in playing the lute? “The science of play-
ing the lute.” Therefore in life also it is the
science of life. You have, then, heard in a gen-
eral way: but examine the thing also in the sev-
eral parts. Is it possible that he who desires any
of the things which depend on others can be
free from hindrance? “No.” Is it possible for
him to be unimpeded? “No.” Therefore he
cannot be free. Consider then: whether we
have nothing which is in our own power only,
or whether we have all things, or whether
some things arc in our own jx)wcr, and others
in the power of others. “What do you mean?”
When you wish the body to be entire, is it in
your power or not? “It is not in my power.”
When you wish it to be healthy? “Neither
is this in my power.” When you wish it to
be handsome? “Nor is this.” Life or death?
“Neither is this in my power.” Your body,
then, is another’s, subject to every man who is
stronger than yourself? “It is.” But your estate,
is it in your power to have it when you please,
and as long as you please, and such as you
please? “No.” And your slaves? “No.” And
your clothes? “No.” And your house? “No.”
And your horses? “Not one of these things.”
And if you wish by all means your children to
live, or your wife, or your brother, or your
friends, is it in your power? * This also is not
in my power.” ;

Whether, then, have you nothing which is
in your own power, which dc{pend.s on your-
self only and cannot be take^ from you, or
have you anything of the kind? “I know not.”
Look at the thing, then, thus, and examine it.
Is any man able to make you assent to that
which is false ?^ “No man.” In the matter of
^ See itL 22 ,

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

assent, then, you are free from hindrance and
obstruction. ‘‘Granted.*’ Well; and can a man
force you to desire to move toward that to
which you do not choose? “He can, for when
he threatens me with death or bonds, he com-
pels me to desire to move toward it.” If, then,
you despise death and bonds, do you still pay
any regard to him? “No.” Is, then, the despis-
ing of death an act of your own, or is it not
yours? “It is my act.” It is your own act, then,
also to desire to move toward a thing: or is it
not so? “It is my own act.” But to desire to
move away from a thing, whose act is that?
This also is your act. “What, then, if I have at-
tempted to walk, suppose another should hin-
der me.” What part of you docs he hinder?
docs he hinder the faculty of assent? “No: but
my poor body.” Yes, as he would do with a
stone. “Granted; but I no longer walk.” And
who told you that walking is your act free
from hindrance? for I said that this only was
free from hindi«iuc, to desire to move: but
where there is need of body and its co-opera-
tion, you have heard long ago that nothing is
your own. “Granted this also.” And who can
compel you to desire what you do not wish?
“No man.” And to propose, or intend, or in
short to make use of the appearances which
present themselves, can any man compel you?
“He cannot do this: but he will hinder me
when I desire from obtaining what I desire.”
If you desire anything which is your own, and
one of the things which cannot be hindered,
how will he hinder you? “He cannot in any
way.” Who, then, tells you that he who de-
sires the things that belong to another is free
from hindrance?

“Must I, then, not desire health?” By no
means, nor anything else that belongs to an-
other: for what is not in your power to ac-
quire or to keep when you please, this belongs
to another. Keep, then, far from it not only
your hands but, more than that, even your de-
sires. If you do not, you have surrendered your-
self as a slave; you have subjected your neck,
if you admire anything not your own, to every-
thing that is dependent on the power of others
and perishable, to which you have conceived
a liking. “Is not my hand my own?” It is a
part of your own body; but it is by nature
earth, subject to hindrance, compulsion, and

the slave of everything which is stronger. And
why do I say your hand? You ought to possess
your whole body as a poor ass loaded, as long
as it is possible, as long as you are allowed. But
if there be a press,^ and a soldier should lay
hold of it, let it go, do not resist, nor murmur;
if you do, you will receive blows, and neverthe-
less you will also lose the ass. But when you
ought to feel thus with respect to the body,
consider what remains to be done about all the
rest, which is provided for the sake of the body.
When the body is an ass, all the other things
are bits belonging to the ass, pack-saddles,
shoes, barley, fodder. Let these also go: get rid
of them quicker and more readily than of the
ass.

When you have made this preparation, and
have practised this discipline, to distinguish
that which belongs to another from that which
is your own, the things which are subject to
hindrance from those which are not, to con-
sider the things free from hindrance to con-
cern yourself, and those which arc not free not
to concern yourself, to keep your desire stead-
ily fixed to the things which do concern your-
self, and turned from the things which do not
concern yourself; do you still fear any man?
“No one.” For about what will you be afraid?
about the things which are your own, in which
consists the nature of good and evil? and who
has power over these things? who can take
them away? who can impede them? No man
can, no more than he can impede God. But
will you be afraid about your body and your
possessions, about things which are not yours,
about things which in no way concern you?
and what else have you been studying from
the beginning than to distinguish between
your own and not your own, the things which
are in your power and not in your power, the
things subject to hindrance and not subject?
and why have you come to the philosophers?
was it that you may nevertheless be unfortu-
nate and unhappy? You will then in this way,
as I have supposed you to have done, be with-
out fear and disturbance. And what is grief
to you? for fear comes from what you expect,
but grief from that which U present. But what
further will you desire ?^For of the things
which are within the power of the will, as be-

* Herodotus, viii. pJ*.

EPICTETUS

218

ing good and present, you have a proper and
regulated desire: but of the things which are
not in the power of the will you do not desire
any one, and so you do not allow any place to
that which is irrational, and impatient, and
above measure hasty.

When, then, you are thus affected toward
things, what man can any longer be formid-
able to you? For what has a man which is
formidable to another, either when you see
him or speak to him or, finally, are conversant
with him? Not more than one horse has with
respect to another, or one dog to another, or
one bee to another bee. Things, indeed, are
formidable to every man; and when any man
is able to confer these things on another or to
take them away, then he too becomes formid-
able. How then is an acropolis demolished?
Not by the sword, not by fire, but by opinion.
For if we abolish the acropolis which is in
the city, can we abolish also that of fever, and
that of beautiful women? Can we, in a word,
abolish the acropolis which is in us and cast
out the tyrants within us, whom we have
daily over us, sometimes the same tyrants, at
other times different tyrants? But with this we
must begin, and with this we must demolish
the acropolis and eject the tyrants, by giving
up the body, the parts of it, the faculties of it,
the possessions, the reputation, magisterial ^of-
fices, honours, children, brothers, friends, by
considering ail these things as belonging to
others. And if tyrants have been ejected from
us, why do I still shut in the acropolis by a wall
of circumvallation, at least on my account; for
if it still stands, what does it do to me? why do
I still eject guards? For where do I perceive
them? against others they have their fasces,
and their spears, and their swords. But 1 have
never been hindered in my will, nor com-
pelled when I did not will. And how is this
possible? I have placed my movements toward
action in obedience to God. Is it His will that
I shall have fever? It is my will also. Is it His
will that I should move toward anything? It
is my will also. Is it His will that I should ob-
tain anything? It is my wish also. Does He not
will? I do not wish. Is it His will that I die, is
it His will that I be put to the rack ? It is my
will then to die: it is my will then to be put to
the rack. Who, then, is still able to hinder me

contrary to my own judgment, or to compel
me? No more than he can hinder or compel
Zeus.

Thus the more cautious of travelers also act.
A traveler has heard that the road is infested
by robbers; he does not venture to enter on it
alone, but he waits for the companionship on
the road cither of an ambassador, or of a
qusestor, or of a proconsul, and when he has at-
tached himself to such persons he goes along
the road safely. So in the world the wise man
acts. There are many companies of robbers,
tyrants, storms, difficulties, losses of that which
is dearest. “Where is there any place of refuge?
how shall he pass along without being at-
tacked by robbers? what company shall he
wait for that he may pass along in safety? to
whom shall he attach himself? To what {per-
son generally? to the rich man, to the man of
consular rank? and what is the use of that to
me? Such a man is stripped himself, groans
and laments. But what if the fellow-com-
panion himself turns against me and becomes
my robber, what shall I do? I will be ‘a friend
of Carsar’: when I am Cxsar’s companion no
man will wrong me. In the first place, that I
may become illustrious, what things must 1 en-
dure and suffer? how often ajij^d by how many
must I be robbed? Then, if I become Csesar’s
friend, he also is mortal. And if Caesar from
any circumstance becomes my enemy, where
is it best for me to retire? Into a desert? Well,
does fever not come there? What shall be done
then? Is it not possible to find a safe fellow-
traveler, a faithful one, strong, secure against
all surprises?” I'hus he considers and per-
ceives that if he attaches himself to God, he
will make his journey in safety.

“How do you understand ‘attaching your-
self to God*?” In this sense, that whatever
God wills, a man also shall will; and what
God does not will, a man shall not will. How,
then, shall this be done? In what other way
than by examining the movements of God and
his administration? What has He given to me
as my own and in my own power? what has
He reserved to Himself? He has given to me
the things which are in the power of the will:
He has put them in my power free from im-
pediment and hindrance. How was He able to
make the earthly body free from hindrance?

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

And accordingly He has subjected to the revo-
lution of the whole, possessions, household
things, house, children, wife. Why, then, do I
fight against God? why do I will what docs
not depend on the will? why do I will to have
absolutely what is not granted to me? But how
ought I to will to have things? In the way in
which they arc given and as long as they are
given. But He who has given takes away.‘
Why then do I resist? I do not say that I shall
be a fool if I use force to one who is stronger,
but I shall first be unjust. For whence had I
things when I came into the world? My father
gave them to me. And who gave them to him?
and who made the sun? and who made the
fruits of the earth? and who the seasons? and
who made the connection of men with one
another and their fellowship?

Then after receiving everything from an-
other and even yourself, arc you angry and do
you blame the Giver if he takes anything from
you? Who aic you, and for what purpose did
you come into the world? Did not He intro-
duce you here, did He not show you the light,
did he not give you fellow-workers, and per-
ception, and reason? and as whom did He in-
trotlucc you here? lid He not introduce you
as subject to death, and as one to live on the
earth with a little flesh, and to observe His ad-
ministration, and to join with Him in the
spectacle and the festival for a short time? Will
you not, then, as long as you have been per-
mitted, after seeing the spectacle and the so-
lemnity, when He leads \ou out, go with ado-
ration of Him and thanks for what you have
scon and heard: “No; but I would still enjoy
the feast." The initiated, too, would wish to l^e
longer in the initiation; and perhaps also those
at Olympia to sec other athletes; but the
solemnity is ended: go away like a grateful and
modest man; make room for others: others
also must be born, as you were, and being born
they must have a place, and houses and neces-
sary things. And if the first do not retire, what
remains? Why arc you insatiable? Why arc
you not content? why do you contract the
world? “Yes, but T would have my little chil-
dren with me and pay wife.” What, are they
yours? do they not belong to the Giver, and to
Him who made you? then will you not give

^ Job l. 21.

up what belongs to others? will you not give
way to Him who is superior? “Why, then, did
He introduce me into the world on these con-
ditions?’* And if the conditions do not suit
you, depart. He has no need of a spectator who
is not satisfied. He wants those who join in the
festival, those who lake part in the chorus,
that they may rather applaud, admire, and
celebrate with hymns the solemnity. But those
who can bear no trouble, and the cowardly
He will not unwillingly sec absent from the
great assembly; for they did not when they
were present behave as they ought to do at a
festival nor fill up their place properly, but they
lamented, found fault with the deity, fortune,
their companions; not seeing both what they
had, and their own powers, which they re-
ceived for contrary purposes, the powers of
magnanimity, of a generous mind, manly
spirit, and what we arc now inquiring about,
freedom. “For what purpose, then, have I
received these things'*’ To use them. “How
long:’’ So long as He who has lent them
chooses. “What if they arc necessary to me?’’
Do not attach yourself to them and they will
not he necessary: do not say to yourself that
they are necessary, and then they arc not neces-
sary.

This study you ought to practise from morn-
ing to evening, beginning with the smallest
things and those most liable to damage, with
an earthen pot, with a cup. Then proceed in
this way to a tunic, to a little dog, to a horse,
to a small estate in land: then to yourself, to
your botly, to the parts of your body, to your
children, to your wife, to your brothers. Look
all round and throw these things from you.
Purge your opinions, so that nothing cleave to
you of the things which arc not your own, that
nothing grow to you, that nothing give you
pain when it is torn from you; and say, while
you are daily exercising yourself as you do
there, not that you are philosophizing, for this
is an arrogant expression, but that you arc pre-
senting an assertcr of freedom: for this is really
freedom. To this freedom Diogenes was called
by Antisthencs, and he said that he could no
longer be enslaved by any njan. For this reason
when he was taken prisoner,* how did he be-
have to the pirates? Did he call any of them

* Seeiii. 24; ii. 13.

220 EPICTETUS

master? and I do not speak of the name, for I
am not afraid of the word, but of the state of
mind by which the word is produced. How
did he reprove them for feeding badly their
captives? How was he sold? Did he seek a
master? no; but a slave. And, when he was
sold, how did he behave to his master? Im-
mediately he disputed with him and said to
his master that he ought not to be dressed as he
was, nor shaved in such a manner; and about
the children he told them how he ought to
bring them up. And what was strange in this?
for if his master had bought an exercise mas-
ter, would he have employed him in the exer-
cises of the palarstra as a servant or as a master?
and so if he had bought a physician or an
architect. And so, in every matter, it is abso-
lutely necessary that he who has skill must be
the superior of him who has not. Whoever,
then, generally possesses the science of life,
what else must he be than master? For who is
master of a ship? “The man who governs the
helm.” Why? Because he who will not obey
him suffers for it. “But a master can give me
stripes.” Can he do it, then, without suffering
for it? “So I also used to think.” But because
he cannot do it without suffering for it, for
this reason it is not in his power: and no man
can do what is unjust without suffering for it.
"And what is the penalty for him who puts
his own slave in chains, what do you think
that is?” The fact of putting the slave in
chains: and you also will admit this, if you
choose to maintain the truth, that man is not
a wild beast, but a tame animal. For when is
a vine doing badly? When it is in a condition
contrary to its nature. When is a cock? Just
the same. Therefore a man also is so. What
then is a man’s nature? To bite, to kick, and
to throw into prison and to behead? No; but to
do good, to co-operate with others, to wish
them well. At that time, then, he is in a bad
condition, whether you choose to admit it or
not, when he is acting foolishly.

"Socrates, then, did not fare badly?” No;
but his judges and his accusers did. “Nor did
Helvidius at Rome fare badly?” No; but his
murderer did. "How do you mean?” The
same as you do when you say that a cock has
not fared badly when he has gained the victory
and been severely wounded; but that the cock

has fared badly when he has been defeated
and is unhurt: nor do you call a dog fortunate
who neither pursues game nor labors, but
when you sec him sweating, when you sec him
in pain and panting violently after running.
What paradox do we utter if we say that the
evil in everything is that which is contrary to
the nature of the thing? Is that a paradox? for
do you not say this in the case of all other
things? Why then in the case of man only do
you think differently? But because we say
that the nature of man is tame and social and
faithful, you will not say that this is a para-
dox? “It is not.” What then is it a paradox to
say that a man is not hurt when he is whipped,
or put in chains, or beheaded? does he not, if
he suffers nobly, come off even with increased
advantage and profit? But is he not hurt, who
suffers in a most pitiful and disgraceful way,
who in place of a man becomes a w'olf, or
viper or wasp?

Well then let us recapitulate the things
which have been agreed on. The man who is
not under restraint is free, to whom things arc
exactly in that state in which he wishes them
to be; but he who can be restrained or com-
|x:lled or hindered, or thrown into any cir-
cumstances against his will, is a slave. But who
is free from restraint? He who desires nothing
that belongs to others. And what arc the things
which belong to others? Those which arc not
in our power cither to have or not to have, or
to have of a certain kind or in a certain man-
ner. Therefore the body belongs to another,
the parts of the body belong to another, pos-
session belongs to another. If, then, you are at-
tached to any of these things as your own, you
will pay the penalty which it is proper for him
to pay who desires what belongs to another.
This road leads to freedom, that is the only
way of escaping from slavery, tq be able to say
at last with all your soul »

Lead me, O Zeus, and thou 0 destiny.

The way that I an* bid by you to go}

But what do you say, philosopher? The tyrant
summons you to say something tvhich docs not
become you. Do you say it or do you not? An-
swer me. “Let me consider.” Will you con-
sider now ? But when you were in the school,
what was it which you used to consider? Did
^ Epictetus, Encheiridion, 53.

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

you not study what are the things that are
good and what arc bad, and what things are
neither one nor the other? “I did.” What then
was our opinion? “That just and honourable
acts were good; and that unjust and disgrace-
ful acts were bad.” Is life a good thing? “No.”
Is death a bad thing? “No.” Is prison? “No.”
But what did we think about mean and faith-
less words and betrayal of a friend and flattery
of a tyrant? “That they arc bad.” Well then,
you are not considering, nor have you con-
sidered nor deliberated. For what is the matter
for consideration: is it whether it is becoming
for me, when I have it in my power, to secure
for myself the greatest of good things, and not
to secure for myself the greatest evils? A fine
inquiry indeed, and necessary, and one that de-
mands much deliberation. Man, why do you
mock us? Such an inquiry is never made. If
you really imagined that base things were bad
and honourable things were good, and that all
other things vvcr« neither good nor bad, you
would not even have approached this inquiry,
nor have come near it; but immediately you
would have been able to distinguish them by
the understanding as you would do by the
vision. For when do you inquire if black
things are white, if heavy things are light,
and do not comprehend the manifest evidence
of the senses? How, then, do you now say that
you are considering whether things which arc
neither good nor bad ought to be avoided
more than things which are bad? But you do
not possess these opinions; and neither do
these things seem to you to be neither good
nor bad, but you think that they are the great-
est evils; nor do you think those other things
to be evils, but matters which do not concern
us at all. For thus from the beginning you
have accustomed yourself. “Where am I? In
the schools: and are any listening to me? I am
discoursing among philosophers. But I have
gone out of the school. Away with this talk of
scholars and fools.” Thus a friend is overpow-
ered by the testimony of a philosopher:^ thus
a philosopher becomes a parasite; thus he lets
himself for hire for money: thus in the senate
a man does not say what he thinks; in private
he proclaims his opinions. You are a cold and
miserable little opinion, suspended from idle
' Tacitus, Atmais, xvi. 32.

words as from a hair. But keep yourself strong
and fit for the uses of life and initiated by be-
ing exercised in action. How do you hear? I
do not say that your child is dead — for how
could you bear that? — but that your oil is
spilled, your wine drunk up. Do you act in
such a way that one standing by you while you
are making a great noise, may say this only,
“Philosopher, you say something different in
the school. Why do you deceive us? Why,
when you are only a worm, do you say that
you are a man?” I should like to be present
when one of the philosophers is lying with a
woman, that I might see how he is exerting
himself, and what words he is uttering, and
whether he remembers his title of philosopher,
and the words which he hears or says or reads.

“And what is this to liberty?” Nothing else
than this, whether you who arc rich choose or
not. “And who is your evidence for this?” who
else than yourselves? who have a powerful
master, and who live in obedience to his nod
and motion, and who faint if he only looks at
you with a scowling countenance; you who
court old women and old men, and say, “I
cannot do this: it is not in my power.” Why is
it not in your power ? Did you not lately con-
tend with me and say that you arc free? “But
Aprulla* has hindered me.” Tell the truth,
then, slave, and do not run away from your
masters, nor deny, nor venture to produce any
one to assert your freedom, when you have so
many evidences of your slavery. And indeed
when a man is compelled by love to do some-
thing contrary to his opinion, and at the same
time sees the better but has not the strength to
follow it, one might consider him still more
worthy of excuse as being held by a certain
violent and, in a manner, a divine power.®
But who could endure you who are in love
with old women and old men, and wipe the
old women’s noses, and wash them and give
them presents, and also wait on them like a
slave when they are sick, and at the same time
wish them dead, and question the physicians
whether they are sick unto death? And again,
when in order to obtain these great and much-
admired magistracies and honours, you kiss
the hands of these slaves 4^ others, and so you

* Some old woman who is courted for her money.

•Compare Plato Symposium, aoo; I Cor. 7.

EPICTETUS

are not the slave even of free men. Then you
walk about before me in stately fashion, a
prxtor or a consul. Do I not know how you
became a praetor, by what means you got your
consulship, who gave it to you? I would not
even choose to live, if I must live by help of
Felicion* and endure his arrogance and servile
insolence: for I know what a slave is, who is
fortunate, as he thinks, and puffed up by
pride.

“You then,” a man may say, “are you free?”
I wish, by the Gods, and pray to be free; but I
am not yet able to face my masters, I still val-
ue my poor body, I value greatly the preserva-
tion of it entire, though I do not possess it cn-
tire.‘‘ But I can point out to you a free man,
that you may no longer seek an example.
Diogenes was free. How was he free ? — not be-
cause he was born of free parents, but because
he was himself free, because he had cast off all
the handles of slavery, and it was not possible
for any man to approach him, nor had any
man the means of laying bold of him to en-
slave him. He had everything easily loosed,
everything only hanging to him. If you laid
hold of his property, he would rather have let
it go and be yours than he would have fol-
lowed you for it; if you had laid hold of his
leg, he would have let go his leg; if of all his
body, all his poor body; his intimates, friends,
country, just the same. For he knew from
whence he had them, and from whom, and on
what conditions. His true parents indeed, the
Gods, and his real country he would never
have deserted, nor would he have yielded to
any man in obedience to them or to their or-
ders, nor would any man have died for his
country more readily. For he was not used to
inquire when he should be considered to have
done anything on behalf of the whole of
things, but he remembered that everything
which is done comes from thence and is done
on behalf of that country and is commanded
by him who administers it. Therefore see what
Diogenes himself says and writes: “For this
reason,” he says, “Diogenes, it is in your pow-
er to speak both with the King of the Persians
and with Archidamus the king of the Lace-
dzmonians, as you please.” Was it because he
was born of free parents? I suppose all the

^Seei.19. *Coni|]arci. 8;i. 16.

Athenians and all the Lacedzmonians, be-
cause they were born of slaves, could not talk
with them as they wished, but feared and paid
court to them. Why then does he say that it is
in his power? “Because I do not consider the
poor body to be my own, because I want noth-
ing, because law^ is everything to me, and
nothing else is.” These were the things which
permitted him to be free.

And that you may not think that I show
you the example of a man who is a solitary
person, who has neither wife nor children, nor
country, nor friends nor kinsmen, by whom
he could be bent and drawn in various direc-
tions, take Socrates and observe that he had a
wife and children, hut he did not consider
them as his own; that he had a country, so
long as it was fit to have one, and in such a
manner as was fit; friends and kinsmen also,
but he held all in subjection to law and to the
obedience due to it. For this reason he was the
first to go out as a soldier, when it was neces-
sary; and in war he cxfxjsed himself to danger
most unsparingly,* and when he was sent by
the tyrants to seize Leon, he did not even de-
liberate about the matter, because he thought
that it was a base action, and he knew that he
must die, if it so happened.’’ And what differ-
ence did that make to him? for he intended to
preserve something else, not his poor flesh, but
his fidelity, his honourable character. These
are things which could not be assailed nor
brought into subjection. Then, when he was
obliged to speak in defense of his life, did he
behave like a man who had children, who had
a wife? No, but he behaved like a man who
has neither. And what did he do when he was
to drink the {X)ison, and when he had the pow-
er of escaping from prison, and when Crito
said to him, “Escape for the sake of your chil-
dren,” what did Socrates say?“ Did he con-
sider the power of escape as an unexpected
gain? By no means: he considered what was
fit and proper; but the rest he did not even
look at or take into the reckoniiig. For he did
not choose, he said, to save his poor body, but
to save that which is increased and saved by
doing what is just, and is impaired and de-

* 0 )mparc Plato, Crito, 50.

^ Plato, Apology,

* Plato, Apology; Marcus Aurelius, vii. 66.

• Plato, Crito,

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

stroyed by doing what is unjust. Socrates will
not save his life by a base act; he who would
not put the Athenians to the vote when they
clamoured that he should do so,^ he who re-
fused to obey the tyrants, he who discoursed
in such a manner about virtue and right be-
haviour. It is not possible to save such a man’s
life by base acts, but he is saved by dying, not
by running away. For the good actor also pre-
serves his character by stopping when he ought
to stop, better than when he goes on acting be-
yond the projxr time. What then shall the
children of Socrates do? “If,” said Socrates, “I
had gone off to Thessaly, would you have
taken care of them; and if I depart to the world
below, will there be no man to take care of
them?” See how he gives to death a gentle
name and mocks it. But if you and I had been
in his place, we should have immediately an-
swered as philosophers that those who act un-
justly must be repaid in the same way, and we
should have adu^-d, “I shall be useful to many,
if my life is saved, and if I die, 1 shall be useful
to no man.” For, if it had been necessary, wc
should have made our escape by slipping
through a small hole. And how in that case
should we have been useful to any man? for
where would they have been then staying? or
if wc were useful to men while wc were alive,
should wc not have been much more useful to
them by dying when we ought to die, and as
we ought? And now, Socrates being dead, no
less useful to men, and even more useful, is
the remembrance of that which he did or said
when he was alive.

Think of these things, these opinions, these
words: look to these examples, if you would be
free, if you desire the thing according to its
W'orth. And what is the w^onder if you buy so
great a thing at the price of things so many
and so great? For the sake of this which is
called “liberty,” some hang themselves, others
throw themselves down precipices, and some-
times even whole cities have perished: and
will you not for the sake of the true and un-
assailable and secure liberty give back to God
when He demands them the things which He
has given? Will you not, as Plato says, study
not to die only, but also to endure torture, and
exile, and scourging, and, in a word, to give up

* Plato Apology,

all which is not your own? If you will not,
you will be a slave among slaves, even if you
be ten thousand times a consul; and if you
make your way up to the Palace, you will no
less be a slave; and you will feel, that perhaps
philosophers utter words which are contrary
to common opinion, as Clcanthes also said, but
not words contrary to reason. For you will
know by experience that the wwds are true,
and that there is no profit from the things
which arc valued and eagerly sought to those
who have obtained them; and to those who
have not yet obtained them there is an imag-
ination that when these things are come, ail
that is good will come with them; then, when
they are come, the feverish feeling is the same,
the tossing to and fro is the same, the satiety,
the desire of things which are not present; for
freedom is acquired not by the full possession
of the things which are desired, but by remov-
ing the desire. And that you may know that
this is true, as you have laboured for those
things, so transfer your labour to these; be
vigilant for the purpose of acquiring an opin-
ion which will make you free; pay court to a
philosopher instead of to a rich old man: be
seen about a philosopher’s doors: you will not
disgrace yourself by being seen; you will not
go away empty nor without profit, if you go
to the philosopher as you ought, and if not, try
at least: the trial is not disgraceful.

Chapter 2. On familiar intimacy
To THIS matter before all you must attend:
that you be never so closely connected with
any of your former intimates or friends as to
come down to the same acts as he does. If you
do not observe this rule, you will ruin your-
self. But if the thought arises in your mind.
“I shall seem disobliging to him, and he will
not have the same feeling toward me,” re-
member that nothing is done without cost, nor
is it possible for a man if he does not do the
same things to be the same man that he was.
Choose, then, which of the two you will have,
to be equally loved by those by whom you
were formerly loved, being the same with
your former self; or, bein^superior, not to ob-
tain from your friends the same that you did
before. For if this is better, immediately turn
away to it, and let not other considerations

224 EPICTETUS

draw you in a different direction. For no man
is able to make progress, when he is wavering
between opposite things; but if you have pre-
ferred this to all things, if you choose to at-
tend to this only, to work out this only, give
up everything else. But if you will not do this,
your wavering will produce both these results:
you will neither improve as you ought, nor
will you obtain what you formerly obtained.
For before, by plainly desiring the things
which were worth nothing, you pleased your
associates. But you cannot excel in both kinds,
and it is necessary that so far as you share in
the one, you must fall short in the other. You
cannot, when you do not drink with those
with whom you used to drink, be agreeable
to them as you were before. Choose, then,
whether you will be a hard drinker and pleas-
ant to your former associates or a sober man
and disagreeable to them. You cannot, when
you do not sing with those with w'hom you
used to sing, be equally loved by them. Choose,
then, in this matter also which of the two you
will have. For if it is better to be modest and
orderly than for a man to say, **He is a jolly
fellow,” give up the rest, renounce it, turn
away from it, have nothing to do with such
men. But if this behaviour shall not please
you, turn altogether to the opposite: become
a catamite, an adulterer, and act accordingly,
and you will get what you wish. And jump up
in the theatre and bawl out in praise of the
dancer. But characters so different cannot be
mingled; you cannot act both Thersites and
Agamemnon. If you intend to be Thersites,*
you must be humpbacked and bald: if Aga-
memnon, you must be tall and handsome, and
love those who are placed in obedience to you.

Chapter 3. What things we should exchange
jor other things

Keep this thought in readiness, when you lose
anything external, what you acquire in place
of it; and if it be worth more, never say,
have had a loss”; neither if you have got a
horse in place of an ass, or an ox in place of a
sheep, nor a good action in place of a bit of
money, nor in place of idle talk such tranquil-
lity as befits a man, nor in place of lewd talk
if you have acquired modesty. If you remcm-
* See Homer, tUad^ ii. 216; iiL 167.

ber this, you will always maintain your chaN
acter such as it ought to be. But if you do not,
consider that the times of opportunity are per-
ishing, and that whatever pains you take about
yourself, you are going to waste them all and
overturn them. And it needs only a few things
for the loss and overturning of all, namely a
small deviation from reason. For the stecrer of
a ship to upset it, he has no need of the same
means as he has need of for saving it: but if he
turns it a little to the wind, it is lost; and if he
does not do this purposely, but has been neg-
lecting his duty a little, the ship is lost. Some-
thing of the kind happens in this case also: if
you only fall to nodding a little, all that you
have up to this time collected is gone. Attend
therefore to the appearances of things, and
watch over them; for that which you have to
preserve is no small matter, but it is modesty
and fidelity and constancy, freedom from the
affects, a state of mind undisturl^ed, freedom
from fear, tranquillity, in a word, “liberty.”
For what will you sell these things? Sec what
is the value of the things which you w'ill ob-
tain in exchange for these. “But shall I not
obtain any such thing for it?” See, and if you
do in return get that, sec what you receive in
place of it. “I possess dcccncjj^^ he possesses a
tribuneship: he possesses a prsetorship, I pos-
sess modesty. But I do not make acclamations
where it is not becoming: 1 will not stand up
where I ought not;* for I am free, and a friend
of God, and so I obey Him willingly. But I
must not claim anything else, neither body nor
possession, nor magistracy, nor good report,
nor in fact anything. For He does not allow me
to claim them: for if He had chosen. He would
have made them good for me; but He has not
done so, and for this reason 1 cannot transgress
his commands.”® Preserve that which is your
own good in everything; and as to every other
thing, as it is permitted, and so tar as to behave
consistently with reason in respect to them, con-
tent with this only. If you do not, you will be
unfortunate, you will fail in all things, you will
be hindered, you will be impeded. These arc the
laws which have been sent from thence; these
are the orders. Of these laws a man ought to
be an expositor, to these he ought to submit,
not to those of Masurius and Cassius.

* Sec iii. 4; iv. 2-9. 'Scei. 25;iv.7.

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV 225

Chapter 4. To those who are desirous of pass-
ing life in tranquillity

Remember that not only the desire of power
and of riches makes us mean and subject to
others, but even the desire of tranquillity, and
of leisure, and of traveling abroad, and of
learning. For, to speak plainly, whatever the
external thing may be, the value which we set
upon it places us in subjection to others. What,
then, is the difference between desiring to be
a senator or not desiring to be one; what is
the difference between desiring power or being
content with a private station; what is the dif-
ference between saying, “I am unhappy, I
have nothing to do, but I am bound to my
books as a corpse’*; or saying, “I am unhappy,
I have no leisure for reading”? For as saluta-
tions and power are things external and in-
dependent of the will, so is a book. For what
purpose do you choose to read ? Tell me. For if
you only direct your purpose to l')eing amused
or learning something, you arc a silly fellow
and incapable of enduring labour. But if you
refer reading to the proper end, what else is
this than a tranquil and happy life? But if
reading docs not secure for you a happy and
tranquil life, what is the use of it? “But it docs
secure this,” the man replies, “and for this
reason I am vexed that I am deprived of it.”
And what is this tranquil and happy life,
which any man can impede; I do not say
Carsar or Caesar’s friend, but a crow, a piper, a
fever, and thirty thousand other things? But a
tranquil and happy life contains nothing so
sure as continuity and freedom from obstacle.
Now I am called to do something: I will go,
then, with the purpose of observing the meas-
ures which I must keep,* of acting with mod-
esty, steadiness, without desire and aversion to
things external; and then that 1 may attend to
men, what they say, how they arc moved; and
this not with any bad disposition, or that I
may have something to blame or to ridicule;
but I turn to myself, and ask if I also commit
the same faults. “How then shall I cease to
commit them?” Formerly I also acted wrong,
but now I do not: thanks to God.

Come, when you have done these things and
have attended to them, have you done a worse
act than when you have read a thousand
^ Marcus Aurelius, iii. i.

verses or written as many? For when you cat,
are you grieved because you are not reading?
arc you not satisfied with eating according to
what you have learned by reading, and so with
bathing and with exercise? Why, then, do
you not act consistently in all things, both
when you approach Ca!sar and when you ap-
proach any person? If you maintain yourself
free from perturbation, free from alarm, and
steady; if you look rather at the things which
are done and happen than are looked at your-
self; if you do not envy those who arc pre-
ferred before you; if surrounding circum-
stances do not strike you with fear or admira-
tion, what do you want? Books? How or for
what purpose? for is not this a preparation for
life? and is not life itself made up of certain
other things than this? This is just as if an ath-
lete should weep when he enters the stadium,
because he is not being exercised outside of it.
It was for this purpose that you used to prac-
tise exercise; for this purpose were used the
haltcres,^ the dust, the young men as antag-
onists; and do you seek for those things now
when it is the time of action? This is just as
if in the topic of assent when appearances
present themselves, some of which can be
comprehended, and some cannot be compre-
hended, we should not choose to distinguish
them but should choose to read what has been
written about comprehension.

What then is the reason of this? The rea-
son is that we have never read for this pur-
pose, we have never written for this purpose,
so that we may in our actions use in a
way conformable to nature the appearances
presented to us; but w’c terminate in this, in
learning what is said, and in being able to ex-
pound it to another, in resolving a syllogism,®
and in handling the hypothetical syllogism.
For this reason where our study is, there alone
is the impediment. Would you have by all
means the things which arc not in your power?
Be prevented then, be hindered, fail in your
purpose. But if we read what is written about
action, not that we may see what is said about
action, but that we may act well: if we read
what is said about desirt; and aversion, in or-
der that we may neithef fail in our desires, nor

* See i. 4, iii. 1 5 ; and i. 24; i. 29.

* Marcus Aurelius, i. 17.

236 EPICTETUS

fall into that which wc try to avoid: if wc
read what is said about duty, in order that,
remembering the relations, we may do nothing
irrationally nor contrary to these relations; wc
should not be vexed in being hindered as to
our readings, but we should be satisfied with
doing the acts which arc conformable, and we
should be reckoning not what so far wc have
been accustomed to reckon; “To-day I have
read so many verses, I have written so many**;
but, “To-day I have employed my action as it
is taught by the philosophers; I have not em-
ployed my desire; I have used avoidance only
with respect to things which are within the
power of my will; I have not been afraid of
such a person, I have not been prevailed upon
by the entreaties of another; I have exercised
my patience, my abstinence, my co-operation
with others”; and so we should thank God
for what wc ought to thank Him.

But now we do not know that we also in
another way are like the many. Another man
is afraid that he shall not have power: you arc
afraid that you will. Do not do so, my man;
but as you ridicule him who is afraid that he
shall not have power, so ridicule yourself also.
For it makes no difference whether you arc
thirsty like a man who has a fever, or have a
dread of water like a man who is mad. Or how
will you still be able to say as Socrates did, “Itso
it pleases God, so let it be’*.^ Do you think that
Socrates, if he had been eager to pass his leisure
in the Lyceum or in the Academy and to dis-
course daily with the young men, would have
readily served in military exj>editions so often
as he did; and would he not have lamented
and groaned, “Wretch that I am; I must now
be miserable here, when I might be sunning
myself in the Lyceum**.^ Why, was this your
business, to sun yourself.^ And is it not your
business to be happy, to be free from hin-
drance, free from impediment.? And could he
still have been Socrates, if he had lamented in
this way; how would he still have been able
to write Paeans in his prison f ^

In short, remember this, that what you shall
prize which is beyond your will, so far you
have destroyed your will. But these things are
out of the power of the will, not only power,
but also a private condition: not only occupa-
^ Plato, Phtedo, 6i,

tion, but also leisure. “Now, then, must I live
in this tumult.?” Why do you say “tumult”?
“I mean among many men.** Well what is the
hardship? Suppose that you are at Olympia:
imagine it to be a panegyris, where one is call-
ing out one thing, another is doing another
thing, and a third is pushing another person:
in the baths there is a crowd: and who of us
is not pleased with this assembly and leaves it
unwillingly? Be not difficult to please nor fas-
tidious about what hapj^ns. “Vinegar is dis-
agreeable, for it is sharp; honey is disagree-
able, for it disturbs my habit of body. I do not
like vegetables.” So also, “I ilo not like leisure;
it is a desert: I do not like a crowd; it is con-
fusion.” But if circumstances make it neces-
sary for you to live alone or with a few, call it
quiet and use the thing as you ought: talk
with yourself, exercise the appearances, work
up your preconceptions. If you fall into a
crowd, call it a celebration of games, a panegy-
ris, a festival: try to enjoy the festival with
other men. For what is a more pleasant sight
to him who loves mankind than a numlxr of
men? Wc see with pleasure herds of horses or
oxen: we are delighted when vve sec many
ships: who is pained when he secs many men?
“But they deafen me with tlwr cries.** Then
your hearing is impeded. What, then, is this
to you? Is, then, the power of making use of
appearances hindered? And who prevents you
from using, according to nature, inclination to
a thing and aversion from it; and movement
toward a thing and movement from it? What
tumult is able to do this?

Do you only bear in mind the general rules:
“What is mine, what is not mine; what is
given to me; what docs God w'ill that I should
do now? what does He not will?” A little be-
fore he willed you to be at leisure, to talk with
yourself, to write about these things, to read,
to hear, to prepare yourself. You had sufficient
time for this. Now He says to yoti: “Come now
to the contest; show us what yoU have learned,
how you have practised the athletic art. How
long will you be exercised alonfc? Now is the
opportunity for you to learn whether you arc
an athlete worthy of victory, or one of those
who go about the world and are defeated.”
Why, then, arc you vexed? No contest is with-
out confusion. There must be many who exer-

DISCOURSES,

cise themselves for the contests, many who call
out to those who exercise themselves, many
masters, many spectators. “But my wish is to
live quietly.” Lament, then, and groan as you
deserve to do. For what other is a greater pun-
ishment than this to the untaught man and to
him who disobeys the divine commands: to
be grieved, to lament, to envy, in a word, to be
disappointed and to be unhappy? Would you
not release yourself from these things? “And
how shall I release myself?” Have you not
often heard that you ought to remove entirely
desire, apply aversion to those things only
which are within your |X)wer, that you ought
to give up everything, body, property, fame,
books, tumult, power, private station? for
whatever way you turn, you are a slave, you
arc subjected, you are hindered, you are com-
pelled, you are entirely in the power of others.
But keep the words of Cleanthes in readiness.
f^cud me, O Zeus, and thou necessity.

Is it your will that I should go to Rome? 1
will go to Rome. To Gyara ? I will go to Gyara.
To Athens? 1 will go to Athens, To prison? I
will go to prison. If you should once say,
“When shall a man go to Athens?” you are un-
done. It is a necessary consequence that this
desire, if it is not accomplished, must make
you unhappy; and if it is accomplished, it
must make you vain, since you arc elated at
things at which you ought not to be elated;
and on the other hand, if you are impeded, it
must make you wretched because you fall into
that which you would not fall into. Give up
then all these things “Athens is a good place.”
But happiness is much better; and to l^ free
from passions, free from disturbance, for your
affairs not to depend on any man. “There is
tumult at Rome and visits of salutation,”' But
happiness is an equivalent for all troublesome
things. If, then, the time comes for these
things, why do you not take away the wish
to avoid them? what necessity is there to carry
a burden like an ass, and to be beaten with a
stick? But if you do not so, consider that you
must always be a slave to him who has it in
his power to effect your release, and also to
impede you, and you must serve him as an
evil genius.*

^ Virgil, Georgies, ii. 461.

* Compare i. 19.

BOOK IV 227

There is only one way to happiness, and let
this rule be ready both in the morning and
during the day and by night; the rule is not to
look toward things which are out of the power
of our will, to think that nothing is our own,
to give up all things to the Divinity, to For-
tune; to make them the superintendents of
these things, whom Zeus also has made so;
for a man to observe that only which is his
own, that which cannot be hindered; and
when we read, to refer our reading to this
only, and our writing and our listening. For
this reason, I cannot call the man industrious,
if I hear this only, that he reads and writes;
and even if a man adds that he reads all night,
I cannot say so, if he knows not to what he
should refer his reading. For neither do you
say that a man is industrious if he keeps
awake for a girl; nor do I. But if he does it
for reputation, I say that he is a lover of repu-
tation. And if he does it for money, I say that
he is a lover of money, not a lover of labour;
and if he docs it through love of learning, I
say that he is a lover of learning. But if he re-
fers his labour to his own ruling pow'er, that
he may keep it in a state conformable to na-
ture and pass his life in that state, then only do
I say that he is industrious. For never com-
mend a man on account of these things which
arc common to all, but on account of his opin-
ions; for these are the things which belong to
each man, which make his actions bad or
good. Remembering these rules, rejoice in that
which is present, and be content with the
things which come in season.^ If you see any-
thing which you have learned and inquired
about occurring to you in your course of life,
be delighted at it. If you have laid aside or
have lessened bad disposition and a habit of
reviling; if you have done so with rash temper,
obscene words, hastiness, sluggishness; if you
arc not moved by what you formerly were,
and not in the same way as you once were,
you can celebrate a festival daily, to-day be-
cause you have behaved well in one act, and
tomorrow because you have behaved well in
another. How much greater is this a reason for
making sacrifices than a consulship or the gov-
ernment of a province? ^csc things come to
you trom yourself and from the gods. Remem-

> See Marcus Aurelius, vi. 2 ; ix. 6.

aa8 EPICTETUS

ber this, Who gives these things and to whom,
and for what purpose. If you cherish yourself
in these thoughts, do you still think that it
makes any difference where you shall be hap-
py, where you shall please God? Are not the
gods equally distant from all places? Do they
not see from all places alike that which is go-
ing on?

Chapter 5. Against the quarrelsome and fero-
cious

The wise and good man neither himself fights
with any person, nor does he allow another, so
far as he can prevent it. And an example of
this as well as of all other things is proposed to
us in the life of Socrates, who not only himself
on all occasions avoided fights, but would not
allow even others to quarrel. See in Xeno-
phon’s Symposium^ how many quarrels he set-
tled; how further he endured Thrasymachus
and Polus and Callicles; how he tolerated his
wife, and how he tolerated his son who at-
tempted to confute him and to cavil with him.
For he remembered well that no man has in
his power another man’s ruling principle. He
wished, therefore, for nothing else than that
which was his own. And what is this? Not
that this or that man may act according to na-
ture; for that is a thing which belongs to an-
other; but that while others are doing their
own acts, as they choose, he may never the
less be in a condition conformable to nature
and live in it, only doing what is his own to
the end that others also may be in a state con-
formable to nature. For this is the object al-
ways set before him by the wise and good man.
Is it to be commander of an army? No: but if
it is permitted him, his object is in this matter
to maintain his own ruling principle. Is it to
marry? No; but if marriage is allowed to him,
in this matter his object is to maintain himself
in a condition conformable to nature. But if he
would have his son not to do wrong, or his
wife, he would have what belongs to another
not to belong to another; and to be instructed
is this: to learn what things are a man’s own
and what belongs to another.

How, then, is there left any place for fight*
ing to a man who has this opinion? Is he sur-
prised at anything which happens, and does it
^SeciL 12.

appear new to him? Does he not expect that
which comes from the bad to be worse and
more grievous than what actually befalls him?
And does he not reckon as pure gain whatever
they may do which falls short of extreme wick-
edness? “Such a person has reviled you.” Great
thanks to him for not having struck you. “But
he has struck me also.” Great thanks that he
did not wound you. “But he wounded me
also.” Great thanks that he did not kill you.
For when did he learn or in what school that
man is a tame^ animal, that men love one an-
other, that an act of injustice is a great harm
to him who does it. Since then he has not
learned this and is not convinced of it, why
shall he not follow that which seems to be for
his own interest? “Your neighbour has thrown
stones.” Have you then done anything wrong?
“But the things in the house have been
broken.” Are you then a utensil? No; but a
free power of will.® What, then, is given to
you in answer to this? If you arc like a wolf,
you must bite in return, and throw more
stones. But if you consider what is proper for
a man, examine your store-house, sec with
what faculties you came into the world. Have
you the disposition of a wild beast, have you
the disposition of revenge for an injury? When
is a horse wretched? When he is deprived of
his natural faculties; not when he cannot crow
like a cock, but w^hen he cannot run. When is
a dog wretched? Not when he cannot fly, but
when he cannot track his game. Is, then, a
man also unhappy in this way, not because he
cannot strangle lions or embrace statues,^ for
he did not come into the world in the posses-
sion of certain powers from nature for this
purpose, but because he has lost his probity
and his fidelity? People ought to meet and
lament such a man for the misfortunes into
which he has fallen; not indeed to lament be-
cause a man has been born or^has died,® but
because it has happened to him? in his lifetime
to have lost the things which ate his own, not
that which he received from his^ father, not his
land and house, and his inn, jmd his slaves;
for not one of these things is a man’s own, but

* Sec ii. 10; iv, 1 ; Plato, Laws^ vL

*Seciii. 1.

•Scciii. 12.

* Compare Herodotus, v. 4, on the Trausi.

DISCOURSES,

all belong to others, are servile and subject to
account, at different times given to different
persons by those who have them in their
power: but I mean the things which belong to
him as a man, the marks in his mind with
which he came into the world, such as we seek
also on coins, and if we And them, we approve
of the coins, and if we do not find the marks,
we reject them. What is the stamp on this
Sestertius? “The stamp of Trajan.” Present it.

“It is the stamp of Nero.” Throw it away: it
cannot be accepted, it is counterfeit. So also in
this case. What is the stamp of his opinions?

“It is gentleness, a sociable disposition, a tol-
erant temper, a disposition to mutual affec-
tion.” Produce these qualities. I accept them:

I consider this man a citizen, I accept him as
a neighbour, a companion in my voyages. Only
see that he has not Nero’s stamp. Is he pas-
sionate, is he full of resentment, is he fault-
finding? If the whim seizes him, does he
break the heads ot those who come in his
way? Why, then, did you say that he is a man?

Is everything judged by the bare form? If that
is so, say that the form in wax is an apple and
has the smell and the taste of an apple. But the
external figure is not enough: neither then is
the nose enough and the eyes to make the man,
but he must have the opinions of a man. Here
is a man who docs not listen to reason, who
does not know when he is refuted: he is an
ass: in another man the sense of shame is be-
come dead: he is good for nothing, he is any-
thing rather than a man. This man seeks
whom he may meet and kick or bite, so that
he is not even a sheep or an ass, but a kind of
wild beast.

“What then? would you have me to be de-
spised?” By whom? by those who know you?
and how shall those who know you despise a
man who is gentle and modest? Perhaps you
mean by those who do not know you? What is
that to you? For no other artisan cares for the
opinion of those who know not his art. “But
they will be more hostile to me for this reason.”
Why do you say “me”? Can any man injure
your will, or prevent you from using in a nat-
ural way the appearances which arc presented
to you? “In no way can he.” Why, then, arc
you still disturbed and why do you choose to
show yourself afraid? And why do you not

BOOK IV 229

come forth and proclaim that you are at peace
with ail men whatever they may do, and laugh
at those chiefly who think that they can harm
you? “These slaves,” you can say, “know not
either who I am nor where lies my good or my
evil, because they have no access to the things
which arc mine.”

In this way, also, those who occupy a strong
city mock the besiegers: “What trouble these
men are now taking for nothing: our wall is
secure, we have food for a very long time, and
all other resources.” These arc the things
which make a city strong and impregnable:
but nothing else than his opinions makes a
man’s soul impregnable. For what wall is so
strong, or what body is so hard, or what pos-
session is so safe, or what honour so free from
assault? All things everywhere are perishable,
easily taken by assault, and, if any man in any
way is attached to them, he must be disturbed,
expect what is bad, he must fear, lament, find
his desires disappointed, and fall into things
which he would avoid. Then do we not choose
to make secure the only means of safety which
are offered to us, and do we not choose to with-
draw ourselves from that which is perishable
and servile and to labour at the things which
arc imperishable and by nature free; and do we
not remember that no man either hurts another
or does good to another, but that a man’s
opinion about each thing is that which hurts
him, is that which overturns him; this is fight-
ing, this is civil discord, this is war? That
which made Etcocles and Polyniccs* enemies
was nothing else than this opinion which they
had about royal power, their opinion about
exile, that the one is the extreme of evils, the
other the greatest good. Now this is the nature
of every man to seek the good, to avoid the
bad; to consider him who deprives us of the
one and involves us in the other an enemy and
treacherous, even if he be a brother, or a son or
a father. For nothing is more akin to us than
the good: therefore if these things are good
and evil, neither is a father a friend to sons,
nor a brother to a brother, but all the world is
everywhere full of enemies, treacherous men,
and sycophants. But if th^will, being what it
ought to be, is the only ^ood; and if the will,

^ Aeschylus, Seivn Against Thebes; Euripides, Pkoem*
cutn Maidens.

230 EPICTETUS

being such as it ought not to be, is the only
evil, where is there any strife, where is there
reviling? about what? about the things which
do not concern us? and strife with whom?
with the ignorant, the unhappy, with those
who are deceived about the chief things?

Remembering this Socrates managed his
own house and endured a very ill-tempered
wife and a foolish son. For in what did she
show her bad temper? In pouring water on his
head as much as she liked, and in trampling
on the cake. And what is this to me, if I think
that these things are nothing to me? But this
is my business; and neither tyrant shall check
my will nor a master; nor shall the many
check me who am only one, nor shall the
stronger check me who am the weaker; for this
power of being free from check is given by
God to every man. For these opinions make
love in a house, concord in a state, among na-
tions peace, and gratitude to God; they make
a man in all things cheerful in externals as
about things which belong to others, as about
things which are of no value. We indeed are
able to write and to read these things, and to
praise them when they arc read, but we do
not even come near to being convinced of
them. Therefore what is said of the Laccda:mo>
nians, **Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes,”
w'ill fit in our case also, **Lions in the school,
but out of it foxes.”

Chapter 6. Against those who lament over be-
ing pitied

“I AM grieved,” a man says, “at being pitied.”
Whether, then, is the fact of your being pitied
a thing which concerns you or those who pity
you ? Well, is it in your power to stop this pity?
“It is in my power, if I show them that I do
not require pity.” And whether, then, arc you
in the condition of not deserving pity, or are
you not in that condition? “I think I am not:
but these persons do not pity me for the things
for which, if they ought to pity me, it would
be proper, I mean, for my faults; but they pity
me for my poverty, for not possessing honour-
able offices, for diseases and deaths and other
such things.” Whether, then, arc you prepared
to convince the many that not one of these
things is an evil, but that it is possible for a
man who is poor and has no office and enjoys

no honour to be happy; or to show yourself to
them as rich and in power? For the second of
these things belong to a man who is boastful,
silly and good for nothing. And consider by
what means the pretense must be supported.
It will be necessary for you to hire slaves and
to possess a few silver vessels, and to exhibit
them in public, if it is possible, though they
are often the same, and to attempt to conceal
the fact that they are the same, and to have
splendid garments, and all other things for dis-
play, and to show that you arc a man honoured
by the great, and to try to sup at their houses,
or to be supposed to sup there, and as to your
person to employ some mean arts, that you
may appear to be more handsome and nobler
than you arc. These things you must contrive,
if you choose to go by the second path in order
not to be pitied. But the first way is both im-
practicable and long, to attempt the very thing
which Zeus has not been able to do, to con-
vince all men what things are good and bad.
Is this power given to you? This only is given
to you, to convince yourself; and you have not
convinced yourself. Then I ask you, do you
attempt to persuade other men? and who has
lived so long with you as you with yourself?
and who has so much powg^of convincing you
as you have of convincing yourself; and who is
better disposed and nearer to you than you arc
to yourself? How, then, have you not con-
vinced yourself in order to learn? At present
are not things upside down? Is this what you
have been earnest about doing, to learn to be
free from grief and free from disturbance, and
not to be humbled, and to be free? Have you
not heard, then, that there is only one way
which leads to this end, to give up the things
which do not depend on the will, to withdraw
from them, and to admit that they belong to
others? For another man, then, to have an
opinion about you, of what kind is it? “It is a
thing independent of the will.” Then is it
nothing to you? “It is nothing.” When, then,
you arc still vexed at this atad disturbed, do
you think that you arc convinced about good
and evil?

Will you not, then, letting others alone, be
to yourself both scholar and teacher? “The rest
of mankind will look after this, whether it is
to their interest to be and to pass their lives in

DISCOURSES,

a state contrary to nature: but to me no man is
nearer than myself. What, then, is the meaning
of this, that I have listened to the words of the
philosophers and I assent to them, but in fact
I am no way made easier? Am I so stupid?
And yet, in all other things such as 1 have
chosen, I have not been found very stupid;
but 1 learned letters quickly, and to wrestle,
and geometry, and to resolve syllogisms. Has
not, then, reason convinced me? and indeed no
other things have I from the beginning so ap-
proved and chosen: and now I read about these
things, hear about them, write about them; I
have so far discovered no reason stronger than
this. In what, then, am I deficient? Have the
contrary opinions not been eradicated from
me? Have the notions themselves not been
exercised nor used to be applied to action, but
as armour are laid aside and rusted and cannot
fit me? And yet neither in the exercises of the
palaestra, nor in writing or reading am I satis-
fied with IcHUiing, bat I turn up and down the
syllogisms which arc proposed, and I make
others, and sophistical syllogisms also. But the
necessary theorems, by proceeding from which
a man can become free from grief, fear, pas-
sions, hindrance, and a free man, these I do not
exercise myself in nor do 1 practise in these the
proper practice. Then I care about what others
will say of me, whether 1 shall appear to them
worth notice, whether I shall appear happy.”

Wretched man, \vill you not see what you
are saying about yourself? What do you ap-
pear to yourself to be? in your opinions, in
your desires, in your aversions from things, in
your movements, in your preparation, in your
designs, and in other acts suitable to a man?
But do you trouble yourself about this,
whether others pity you? “Yes, but I am pitied
not as I ought to be.” Arc you then pained at
this? and is he who is pained, an object of
pity? “Yes.” How, then, arc you pitied not as
you ought to be? For by the very act that you
feci about being pitied, you make yourself de-
serving of pity. What then .says Antisthcncs?
Have you not heard? “It is a royal thing, O
Cyrus, to do right and to be ill-spoken of.”^
My head is sound, and all think that I have
the headache. What do I care for that? 1 am
free from fever, and people sympathize with

^ Marcus Aurelius, vii. 36.

BOOK IV 231

me as if I had a fever: “Poor man, for so long
a time you have not ceased to have fever.” I
also say with a sorrowful countenance: “In
truth it is now a long time that I have been
ill.” “What will happen then?” “As God may
please”: and at the same time I secretly laugh
at those who arc pitying me. What, then, hin-
ders the same being done in this case also? I
am poor, but 1 have a right opinion about pov-
erty. Why, then, do I care if they pity me for
my poverty? I am not in power; but others
arc: and I have the opinion which I ought to
have about having and not having power. Let
them look to it who pity me; but I am neither
hungry nor thirsty nor do I suffer cold; but
because they are hungry or thirsty they think
that 1 too am. What, then, shall I do for them?
Shall I go about and proclaim and say: “Be
not mistaken, men, I am very well, I do not
trouble myself about poverty, nor want of
power, nor in a word about anything else than
right opinions. These I have free from re-
straint, I care for nothing at all.” What foolish
talk is this? How do I possess right opinions
when I am not content with being what I am,
but am uneasy about what I am supposed to
be?

“But,” you say, “others will get more and
be preferred to me.” What, then, is more rea-
sonable than for those who have laboured
about anything to have more in that thing in
which they have laboured? They have la-
boured for power, you have laboured about
opinions; and they have laboured for wealth,
you for the projxrr use of appearances. Sec if
they have more than you in this about which
you have laboured, and which they neglect;
if they assent better than you with respect to
the natural rules of things; if they are less dis-
appointed than you in their desires; if they fall
less into things which they would avoid than
you do; if in their intentions, if in the things
wliich they propose to themselves, if in their
purposes, if in their motions toward an object
they take a better aim; if they letter observe a
proper behaviour, as men, as sons, as parents,
and so on as to the other names by which we
express the relations of Ijic, But if they exer-
cise power, and you d6 not, will you not
choose to tell yourself the truth, that you do
nothing for the sake of this, and they do all?

EPICTETUS

But it is most unreasonable that he who looks
after anything should obtain less than he who
docs not look after it.

**Not so: but since I care about right opin-
ions, it is more reasonable for me to have
power.” Yes in the matter about which you do
care, in opinions. But in a matter in which
they have cared more than you, give way to

them. The case is just the same as if, because
you have right opinions, you thought that in
using the bow you should hit the mark better
than an archer, and in working in metal you
should succeed better than a smith. Give up,

then, your earnestness about opinions and em-
ploy yourself about the things which you wish
to acquire; and then lament, if you do not suc-
ceed; for you deserve to lament. But now you
say that you are occupied with other things,
that you are looking after other things; but
the many say this truly, that one act has no
community with another. He who has risen in
the morning seeks whom he shall salute, to
whom he shall say something agreeable, to
whom he shall send a present, how he shall
please the dancing man, how by bad behaviour
to one he may please another. When he prays,
he prays about these things; when he sacrifices,
he sacrifices for these things: the saying of
Pythagoras

Let sleep not come upon thy languid e^es
he transfers to these things. ‘‘Where have I
failed in the matters pertaining to flattery.^”
“What have I done.?” Anything like a free
man, anything like a noble-minded man? And
if he finds anything of the kind, he blames and
accuses himself: “Why did you say this? Was
it not in your power to lie? Even the philoso-
phers say that nothing hinders us from telling
a lie.” But do you, if indeed you have cared
about nothing else except the proper use of ap-
pearances, as soon as you have risen in the
morning reflect, “What do I want in order to
be free from passion, and free from perturba-
tion? What am I? Am I a poor body, a piece
of property, a thing of which something is
said? 1 am none of these. But what am I? I am
a rational animal. What then is required of
me?” Reflect on your acts. “Where have I
omitted the things which conduce to happi-
ness? What have I done which is either un-
friendly or unsocial? what have 1 not done as

to these things which I ought to have done?”

So great, then, being the difference in de-
sires, aaions, wishes, would you still have the
same share with others in those things about
which you have not laboured, and they have
laboured? Then are you surprised if they pity
you, and arc you vexed? But they arc not
vexed if you pity them. Why? Because they
arc convinced that they have that which is
good, and you arc not convinced. For this rea-
son you are not satisfied with your own, but
you desire that which they have: but they are
satisfied with their own, and do not desire
what you have: since, if you were really con-
vinced that with respect to what is good, it is
you who are the possessor of it and that they
have missed it, you would not even have
thought of what they say about you.

Chapter 7. On freedom from fear
What makes the tyrant formidable? “The
guards,” you say, “and their swords, and the
men of the bedchamber and those who ex-
clude them who would enter.” Why, then, if
you bring a boy to the tyrant when he is with
his guards, is he not afraid; or is it because the
child does not understand these things? If,
then, any man docs undcr4tand what guards
arc and that they have swords, and comes to
the tyrant for this very purpose because he
wishes to die on account of some circumstance
and seeks to die easily by the hand of another,
is he afraid of the guards? “No, for he wishes
for the thing which makes the guards formid-
able.” If, then, neither any man wishing to die
nor to live by all means, but only as it may be
permitted, approaches the tyrant, what hin-
ders him from approaching the tyrant without
fear? “Nothing.” If, then, a man has the same
opinion about his property as the man whom
I have instanced has about hds body; and also
about his children and his wife, and in a word
is so affected by some madnfes or despair that
he cares not whether he possesses them or not,
but like children who are flaying with shells
care about the play, but do tiot trouble them-
selves about the shells, so he too has set no
value on the materials, but values the pleasure
that he has with them and the occupation,
what tyrant is then formidable to him or what
guards or what swords?

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

Then through madness is it possible for a
man to be so disposed toward these things, and
the Galilaeans through habit,* and is it pos-
sible that no man can learn from reason and
from demonstration that God has made all the
things in the universe and the universe itself
completely free from hindrance and perfect,
and the parts of it for the use of the whole?
All other animals indeed are incapable of com-
prehending the administration of it; but the
rational animal, man, has faculties for the con-
sideration of all these things, and for under-
standing that it is a part, and what kind of a
part it is, and that it is right for the parts to be
subordinate to the whole. And besides this be-
ing naturally noble, magnanimous and free,
man sees that of the things which surround
him some are free from hindrance and in his
power, and the other things are subject to hin-
drance and in the power of others; that the
things which arc free from hindrance are in
the power of the will; and those which are sub-
ject to hindrance are the things which are not
in the power of the will. And, for this reason,
if he thinks that his good and his interest be in
these things only which are free from hin-
drance and in his own power, he will be free,
prosperous, happy, free from harm, magnan-
imous, pious, thankful to God^ for all things;
in no matter finding fault with any of the
things which have not been put in his power,
nor blaming any of them. But if he thinks that
his good and his interest are in externals and
in things which arc not in the power of his
will, he must of necessity be hindered, be im-
peded, be a slave to those who have the |X)wcr
over things which he admires and fears; and
he must of necessity be impious because he
thinks that he is harmed by God, and he must
be unjust because he always claims more than
belongs to him; and he must of necessity be ab-
ject and mean.

What hinders a man, who has clearly sepa-
rated these things, from living with a light
heart and bearing easily the reins, quiedy ex-
pecting everything which can happen, and en-
during that which has already happened?
“Would you have rnc to bear poverty ?“ Come
and you will know what poverty is when it has

^ The Christians. Sec Marcus Aurelius, xi. 3.

* £ph. 5. 20.

233

found one who can act well the part of a poor
man. “Would you have me to possess power?”
Let me have power, and also the trouble of it.
“Well, banishment?” Wherever I shall go,
there it will be well with me; for here also
where I am, it was not because of the place
that it was well with me, but because of my
opinions which I shall carry off with me: for
neither can any man deprive me of them; but
my opinions alone are mine and they cannot
be taken from me, and I am satisfied while I
have them, wherever I may be and whatever I
am doing. “But now it is time to die.” Why
do you say "to die”? Make no tragedy show of
the thing, but speak of it as it is: it is now time
for the matter to be resolved into the things
out of which it was composed. And what is
the formidable thing here? what is going to
perish of the things which arc in the universe?
what new thing or wondrous is going to hap-
pen? Is it for this reason that a tyrant is for-
midable? Is it for this reason that the guards
appear to have swords which arc large and
sharp? Say this to others; but I have considered
about all these things; no man has power over
me. I have been made free; I know His com-
mands, no man can now lead me as a slave. I
have a proper person to assert my freedom; I
have proper judges. Arc you not the master of
my body? What, then, is that to me? Are you
not the master of my properly? What, then,
is that to me? Arc you not the master of my
exile or of my chains? Well, from all these
things and all the poor body itself I depart at
your bidding, when you please. Make trial of
your power, and you will know how far it
reaches.

Whom then can I still fear? Those who arc
over the bedchamber? Lest they should do,
what? Shut me out? If they find that I wish to
enter, let them shut me out. “Why, then, do
you go to the doors?” Because I think it befits
me, while the play lasts, to join in it. “How,
then, arc you not shut out?” Because, unless
some one allows me to go in, I do not choose
to go in, but am always content with that
which happens; for I think that what God
chooses is better than wh^I choose.’ I will at-
tach myself as a minister and follower to Him;
I have the same movements as He has, I have

* Matt. 26. 39.

234 EPICTETUS

the same desires; in a word, I have the same fear anything which a tyrant can do to me, nor

will. There is no shutting out for me, but for
those who would force their way in. Why,
then, do not I force my way in.? Because I
know that nothing good is distributed within
to those who enter. But when I hear any man
called fortunate because he is honoured by
Cxsar, I say, “What does he happen to get?”
A province. Does he also obtain an opinion
such as he ought.? The office of a Prefect. Docs
he also obtain the power of using his office
well.? Why do I still strive to enter? A man
scatters dried figs and nuts: the children seize
them and fight with one another; men do not,
for they think them to be a small matter. But
if a man should throw about shells, even the
children do not seize them. Provinces arc dis-
tributed: let children look to that. Money is
distributed: let children look to that. Praetor-
ships, consulships are distributed: let children
scramble for them, let them be shut out,
beaten, kiss the hands of the giver, of the
slaves: but to me these are only dried figs and
nuts. What then? If you fail to get them,
while Oesar is scattering them about, do not
be troubled: if a dried fig come into your lap,
take it and eat it; for so far you may value even
a fig. But if I shall stoop down and turn an-
other over, or be turned over by another, and
shall flatter those who have got into chamber,
neither is a dried fig worth the trouble, nor
anything else of the things which arc not good,
which the philosophers have persuaded me not
to think good.

Show me the swords of the guards. “Sec
how big they are, and how sharp.” What,
then, do these big and sharp swords do? “They
kill.” And what docs a fever do? “Nothing
else.” And what else a tile? “Nothing else.”
Would you then have me to wonder at these
things and worship them, and go about as the
slave of all of them ? I hope that this will not
happen: but when I have once learned that
everything which has come into existence must
also go out of it, that the universe may not
stand still nor be impeded, I no longer con-
sider it any difference whether a fever shall do
it, or a tile, or a soldier. But if a man must
make a comparison between these things, I
know that the soldier will do it with less
trouble, and quicker. When, then, I neither

desire anything which he can give, why do I
still look on with wonder? Why am I still con-
founded? Why do I fear the guards? Why am
I pleased if he speaks to me in a friendly way,
and receives me, and why do I tell others how
he spoke to me? Is he a Socrates, is he a Diog-
enes that his praise should be a proof of what
lam? Have I been eager to imitate his mor-
als? But I keep up the play and go to him,
and serve him so long as he does not bid me
to do anything foolish or unreasonable. But if
he says to me, “Go and bring Leon* of Sala-
mis,” I say to him, “Seek another, for I am
no longer playing.” “Lead him away.” I fol-
low; that is part of the play. “But your head
will be taken off.” Does the tyrant’s head al-
ways remain where it is, and the heads of you
who obey him? “But you will be cast out un-
buried.” If the corpse is I, I shall be cast out;
but if I am different from the corpse, speak
more properly according as the fact is, and do
not think of frightening me. These things are
formidable to children and fools. But if any
man has once entered a philosopher’s school
and knows not what he is, he deserves to be
full of fear and to flatter those whom after-
ward he used to flatter; 44 he has not yet
learned that he is not flesh nor bones nor
sinews, but he is that which makes use of
these parts of the body and governs them and
follows the appearances of things.

“Yes, but this talk makes us despise the
laws.” And what kind of talk makes men
more obedient to the laws who employ such
talk? And the things which arc in the power
of a fool are not law. And yet see how this
talk makes us disposed as wc ought to be even
to these men; since it teaches us to claim in
opposition to them none of the things in
which they are able to surpass us. This talk
teaches us, as to the body, to give it up, as to
property, to give that up also, as to children,
parents, brothers, to retire from these, to give
up all; it only makes an exertion of the opin-
ions, which even Zeus has willed to be the
select property of every man. What transgres-
sion of the laws is there here, what folly?
Where you are superior and stronger, there I
give way to you: on the other hand, where I

*Scc iv. L

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

am superior, do you yield to me; for I have
studied this, and you have not. It is your study
to live in houses with floors formed of various
stones, how your slaves and dependents shall
serve you, how you shall wear fine clothing,
have many hunting men, lute players, and
tragic actors. Do I claim any of these have
you made any study of opinions and of your
own rational faculty? Do you know of what
parts it is composed, how they are brought
together, how they arc connected, what pow-
ers it has, and of what kind? Why then arc
you vexed, if another, who has made it his
study, has the advantage over you in these
things? “But these things arc the greatest.”
And who hinders you from being employed
about these things and looking after them?
And who has a better stock of books, of lei-
sure, of persons to aid you? Only turn your
mind at last to these things, attend, if it be
only a short time, to your own ruling faculty:*
consider what tms is that you possess, and
whence it came, this which uses all others, and
tries them, and selects and rejects. But so long
as you employ yourself about externals you
will possess them as no man else docs; but you
will have this such as you choose to have it,
sordid and neglected.

Chapter 8. Against those who hastily rush

into the use of the philosophic dress
Never praise nor blame a man because of the
things which arc common,* and do not as-
cribe to him any skill or want of skill; and
thus you will be free from rashness and from
malevolence. “This man bathes very quickly.”
Docs he then do wrong? Certainly not. But
what docs he do? He bathes very quickly. Arc
all things then done well? By no means: but
the acts which proceed from right opinions
arc done well; and those which proceed from
bad opinions are done ill. But do you, until
you know the opinion from which a man does
each thing, neither praise nor blame the act.
But the opinion is not easily discovered from
the external things. “This man is a carpenter.”
Why? “Because he uses an ax.” What, then,
is this to the matter.? “This man is a musician
because he sings.” And what does that sig-

^ See i. 26, etc.

* See iv. 4.

nify?“This man is a philosopher. Because he
wears a cloak and long hair.” And what does
a juggler wear? For this reason if a man sees
any philosopher acting indecently, immediate-
ly he says, “Sec what the philosopher is do-
ing”; but he ought because of the man’s in-
decent behaviour rather to say that he is not a
philosopher. For if this is the preconceived no-
tion of a philosopher and what he professes,
to wear a cloak and long hair, men would say
well; but if what he professes is this rather, to
keep himself free from faults, why do we not
rather, because he docs not make good his
professions, take from him the name of phi-
losopher? For so wc do in the case of all other
arts. When a man sees another handling an ax
badly, he does not say, “What is the use of the
carpenter’s art? Sec how badly carpenters do
their work”; but he says just the contrary,
“This man is not a carpenter, for he uses an
ax badly.” In the same way if a man hears an-
other singing badly, he does not say, “See how
musicians sing”; but rather, “This man is not
a musician.” But it is in the matter of philos-
ophy only that people do this. When they sec
a man acting contrary to the profession of a
philosopher, they do not take away his title,
but they assume him to be a philosopher, and
from his acts deriving the fact that he is be-
having indecently they conclude that there is
no use in philosophy.

What, then, is the reason of this? Because
wc attach value to the notion of a carpenter,
and to that of a musician, and to the notion of
other artisans in like manner, but not to that
of a philosopher, and we judge from externals
only that it is a thing confused and ill defined.
And what other kind of art has a name from
the dress and the hair; and has not theorems
and a material and an end ? What, then, is the
material of the philosopher? Is it a cloak? No,
but reason. What is his end? is it to wear a
cloak? No, but to possess the reason in a right
state. Of what kind are his theorems? Are
they those about the way in which the beard
becomes great or the hair long? No, but rather
what Tjcvio says, to know the elements of rea-
son, what kind of a thing;iach of them is, and
how ‘they are fitted to oiie another, and what
things are consequent upon them. Will you
not, then, see first if he does what he professes

236 EPICTETUS

when he acts in an unbecoming manner, and arc natural or those which are acquired, how

then blame his study? But now when you
yourself are acting in a sober way, you say in
consequence of what he seems to you to be
doing wrong, *‘Look at the philosopher,’* as
if it were proper to call by the name of philos-
opher one who does these things; and further,
**This is the conduct of a philosopher.” But
you do not say, **Look at the carpenter,” when
you know that a carpenter is an adulterer or
you sec him to be a glutton; nor do you say,
“Sec the musician.” Thus to a certain degree
even you perceive the profession of a philos-
opher, but you fall away from (he notion, and
you arc confused through want of care.

But even the philosophers themselves as
they are called pursue the thing by beginning
with things which are common to them and
others: as soon as they have assumed a cloak
and grown a beard, they say, am a philos-
opher.** But no man will say, am a musi-
cian,” if he has bought a plectrum and a lute:
nor will he say, ”1 am a smith,” if he has put
on a cap and apron. But the dress is fitted to
the art; and they take their name from the
art, and not from the dress. For this reason
Euphrates* used to say well, ”A long time I
strove to be a philosopher without people
knowing it; and this,** he said, **was useful to
me: for first I knew that when 1 did anything
well, I did not do it for the sake of the spec-
tators, but for the sake of myself: I ate well for
the sake of myself; I had my countenance well
composed and my walk: all for myself and for
God. Then, as I struggled alone, so I alone also
was in danger: in no respect through me, if I
did anything base or unbecoming, was philos-
ophy endangered; nor did I injure the many
by doing anything wrong as a philosopher.
For this reason those who did not know my
purpose used to wonder how it was that, while
I conversed and lived altogether with all phi-
losophers, I was not a philosopher myself. And
what was the harm for me to be known to be
a philosopher by my acts and not by outward
marks?**^ See how I cat, how I drink, how I
sleep, how I bear and forbear, how I co-oper-
ate, how I employ desire, how I employ aver-
sion, how I maintain the relations, those which

* See iii. 15.

*CainfweJas.x iS.

free from confusion, how free from hindrance.
Judge of me from this, if you can. But if you
are so deaf and blind that you cannot conceive
even Hepharstus to be a good smith, unless you
sec the cap on his head, what is the harm in
not being recognized by so foolish a judge?

So Socrates was not known to be a philos-
opher by most persons; and they used to come
to him and ask to be introduced to philos-
ophers. Was he vexed then as we arc, and did
he say, “And do you not think that I am a
philosopher?” No, but he would take them
and introduce them, being satisfied with one
thing, with being a philosopher; and being
pleased also with not being thought to be a
philosopher, he was not annoyed: for he
thought of his own occupation. What is the
work of an honourable and good man? To
have many pupils? By no means. They will
look to this matter who are earnest about it.
But was it his business to examine carefully
difficult theorems? Others will look after these
matters also. In what, then, was he, and who
was he and whom did he wish to be? He was
in that wherein there was hurt and advantage.
“If any man can damage me,” he says, “I am
doing nothing: if I am waiting for another
man to do me good, I am nothing. If I wish
for anything, and it does not happen, I am un-
fortunate.” To such a contest he invited every
man, and I do not think that he would have
declined the contest with any one. What do
you suppose? was it by proclaiming and say-
ing, “I am such a man?” Far from it, but by
being such a man. For further, this is the
character of a fool and a boaster to say, “I am
free from passions and disturbance: do not be
ignorant, my friends, that while you are un-
easy and disturbed about things of no value,
I alone am free from all perturbation.” So is
it not enough for you to fed no pain, unless
you make this proclamatiom “Come together
all who are suffering gout, pains in the head,
fever, ye who are lame, blin4» and observe that
I am sound from every ailmdnt.” This is empty
and disagreeable to hear, unless like iEscu-
lapius you are able to show immediately by
what kind of treatment they also shall be im-
mediately free from disease, and unless you
show your own health as an example.

DISCOURSES,

For such is the Cynic who is honoured with
the sceptre and the diadem of Zeus, and says,
“That you may see, O men, that you seek hap-
piness and tranquillity not where it is, but
where it is not, behold I am sent to you by God
as an example.* I who have neither property
nor house, nor wife nor children, nor even a
bed, nor coat nor household utensil; and see
how healthy I am: try me, and if you see that
I am free from perturbations, hear the reme-
dies and how I have been cured.” This is both
philanthropic and noble. But see whose work
it is, the work of Zeus, or of him whom He
may judge worthy of this service, that he may
never exhibit anything to the many, by which
he shall make of no effect his own testimony,
whereby he gives testimony to virtue, and
bears evidence against external things:

His beauteous face pales not, nor from his cheeXs
He wipes a tear}

And not this only, but he neither desires nor
seeks anything, nor man nor place nor amuse-
ment, as children seek the vintage or holidays;
always fortified by modesty as others are for-
tified by walls and doors and doorkeepers.

But now, being only moved to philosophy,
as those who have a bad stomach are moved to
some kinds of food which they soon loathe,
straightway toward the sceptre and to the
royal power. They let the hair grow, they as-
sume the cloak, they show the shoulder bare,
they quarrel with those whom they meet; and
if they see a man in a thick winter coat, they
quarrel with him. Man, first exercise yourself
in winter weather: ree your movements that
they arc not those of a man with a bad stom-
ach or those of a longing woman. First strive
that it be not known what you are: be a phi-
losopher to yourself a short time. Fruit grows
thus: the seed must be buried for some time,
hid, grow slowly in order that it may come to
perfection. But if it produces the ear before the
jointed stem, it is imperfect, a produce of the
garden of Adonis.’ Such a poor plant are you
also: you have blossomed too soon; the cold
weather will scorch you up. Sec what the hus-
bandmen say about seeds when there is warm

^ Compare iii. as.

• Homer, Odyssey, xi. 528.

* Things growing in earthen vessels, carried about for
show only.

BOOK IV 237

weather too early. They arc afraid lest the
seeds should be too luxuriant, and then a sin-
gle frost should lay hold of them and show
that they are too forward. Do you also con-
sider, my man: you have shot out too soon,
you have hurried toward a little fame before
the proper season: you think that you are
something, a fool among fools: you will be
caught by the frost, and rather you have been
frost-bitten in the root below, but your upper
parts still blossom a little, and for this reason
you think that you are still alive and flourish-
ing. Allow us to ripen in the natural way:
why do you bare us? why do you force us?
we arc not yet able to bear the air. Let the root
grow, then acquire the first joint, then the
second, and then the third: in this way, then,
the fruit will naturally force itself out, even if
I do not choose. For who that is pregnant and
filled with such great principles does not also
perceive his own powers and move toward the
corresponding acts? A bull is not ignorant of
his own nature and his powers, when a wild
beast shows itself, nor docs he wait for one to
urge him on; nor a dog when he sees a wild
animal. But if I have the powers of a good
man, shall I wait for you to prepare me for
my own acts? At present I have them not,
believe me. Why then do you wish me to be
withered up before the time, as you have been
withered up?

Chapter 9. To ^ person who had been changed
to a character of shamelessness
When you see another man in the possession
of power, set against this the fact that you have
not the want of power; when you sec another
rich, see what you possess in place of riches:
for if you possess nothing in place of them,
you are miserable; but if you have not the
want of riches, know that you possess more
than this man possesses and what is worth
much more. Another man possesses a handsome
woman: you have the satisfaction of not desir-
ing a handsome wife. Do these things appear
to you to be small? And how much would
these persons give, these very men who arc
rich and in possession of power, and live with
handsome women, to be able to despise riches
and power and these very women whom they
love and enjoy? Do you not know, then, what

238 EPICTETUS

is the thirst of a man who has a fever? He
possesses that which is in no degree like the
thirst of a man who is in health: for the man
who is in health ceases to be thirsty after he
has drunk; but the sick man, being pleased for
a short time, has a nausea; he converts the
drink into bile, vomits, is griped, and more
thirsty. It is such a thing to have desire of
riches and to possess riches, desire of power
and to possess power, desire of a beautiful
woman and to sleep with her: to this is added
jealousy, fear of being deprived of the thing
which you love, indecent words, indecent
thoughts, unseemly acts.

“And what do I losc?“ you will say. My
man, you were modest, and you arc so no long-
er. Have you lost nothing? In place of Chry-
sippus and Zeno you read Aristides and Eve-
nus;^ have you lost nothing? In place of
Socrates and Diogenes, you admire him who
is able to corrupt and seduce most women.
You wish to appear handsome and try to make
yourself so, though you are not. You like to
display splendid clothes that you may attract
women; and if you find any Hne oil, you
imagine that you are happy. But formerly you
did not think of any such thing, but only
where there should be decent talk, a worthy
man, and a generous conception. Therefore
you slept like a man, walked forth like af man,
wore a manly dress, and used to talk in a way
becoming a good man; then do you say to me,
“I have lost nothing?” So do men lose nothing
more than coin? Is not modesty lost? Is not
decent behaviour lost? is it that he who has
lost these things has sustained no loss ? Perhaps
you think that not one of these things is a loss.
But there was a time when you reckoned this
the only loss and damage, and you were anx-
ious that no man should disturb you from
these words and actions.

Observe, you are disturbed fronvthese good
words and actions by nobody but by yourself.
Fight with yourself, restore yourself to de-
cency, to modesty, to liberty. If any man ever
told you this about me, that a person forces me
to be an adulterer, to wear such a dress as
yours, to perfume myself with oils, would you
not have gone and with your own hand have
killed the man who thus calumniated me?

^ Plutarch, Uvet, Crassus.

Now will you not help yourself? and how
much easier is this help? There is no need to
kill any man, nor to put him in chains, nor to
treat him with contumely, nor to enter the
Forum, but it is only necessary for you to speak
to yourself who will be the most easily per-
suaded, with whom no man has more power
of persuasion than yourself. First of all, con-
demn what you are doing, and then, when you
have condemned it, do not despair of yourself,
and be not in the condition of those men of
mean spirit, who, when they have once given
in, surrender themselves completely and are
carried away as if by a torrent. But see what
the trainers of boys do. Has the boy fallen?
“Rise,” they say, “wrestle again till you are
made strong.” Do you also do something of
the same kind: for be well assured that noth-
ing is more tractable than the human soul.
You must exercise the will, and the thing is
done, it is set right: as on the other hand, only
fall a-nodding, and the thing is lost: for from
within comes ruin and from within comes
help. “Then what good do I gain?” And what
greater good do you seek than this? From a
shameless man you will become a modest man,
from a disorderly you will Ixicome an orderly
man, from a faithless you will become a faith-
ful man, from a man of unbridled habits a
sober man. If you seek anything more than
this, go on doing what you arc doing: not even
a God can now help you.

Chapter io. What things tve ought to despise,
and what things we ought to value
The difficulties of all men arc about external
things, their helplessness is about externals.
“What shall I do, how will it be, how will it
turn out, will this happen, will that?” All
these arc the words of those who are turning
themselves to things which arc not within the
power of the will. For who says, “How shall
I not assent to that which i$ false? how shall
I not turn away from the truth?” If a man be
of such a good dis[X)sition as to be anxious
about these things, I will remind him of this:
“Why arc you anxious? The thing is in your
own power: be assured: do not be precipitate
in assenting before you apply the natural rule.”
On the other side, if a man is anxious about
desire, lest it fail in its purpose and miss its

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

end, and with respect to the avoidance of
things, lest he should fall into that which he
would avoid, I will first kiss him, because he
throws away the things about which others are
in a flutter, and their fears, and employs his
thoughts about his own affairs and his own
condition. Then I shall say to him: “If you do
not choose to desire that which you will fail
to obtain nor to attempt to avoid that into
which you will fall, desire nothing which be-
longs to others, nor try to avoid any of the
things which arc not in your power. If you
do not observe this rule, you must of necessity
fail in your desires and fall into that which
you would avoid. What is the difficulty here.?
where is there room for the words, ‘How will
it be?’ and ‘How will it turn out?* and, ‘Will
this happen or that?*”

Now is not that which will happen inde-
pendent of the will? “Yes.” And the nature
of good and of evil, is it not in the things
which are within hi |.x)wcr of the will? “Yes.”
Is it in your power, then, to treat according to
nature everything which happens? Can any
person hinder you? “No man.” No longer
then say to me, “How will it be?” For how-
ever it may be, you will dispose of it well, and
the result to you will be a fortunate one. What
would Hercules have been if he had said,
“How shall a great lion not appear to me, or
a great boar, or savage men?” And what do
you care for that? If a great boar appear, you
will fight a greater fight: if bad men appear,
you will relieve the earth of the bad. “Suppose,
then, that I may lose my life in this way.” You
will die a good man, doing a noble act. For
since we must certainly die, of necessity a man
must be found doing something, cither follow-
ing the employment of a husbandman, or dig-
ging, or trading, or serving in a consulship or
suffering from indigestion or from diarrheea.
What then do you wish to be doing when you
arc found by death? I for my part would wish
to be found doing something which belongs
to a man, beneficent, suitable to the general
interest, noble. But if I cannot be found doing
things so great, I would l>c found doing at
least that which I cannot be hindered from do-
ing, that which is permitted me to do, correct-
ing myself, cultivating the faculty which
makes use of appearances, labouring at free-

dom from the affects, rendering to the rela-
tions of life their due; if I succeed so far, also
touching on the third topic, safety in the form-
ing judgements about things.^ If death sur-
prises me when I am busy about these things,
it is enough for me if I can stretch out my
hands to God and say:

“The means which I have received from
Thee for seeing Thy administration and fol-
lowing it, I have not neglected: I have not
dishonoured Thee by my acts: see how I have
used my perceptions, see how I have used my
preconceptions: have I ever blamed Thee?
have I been discontented with anything that
happens, or wished it to be otherwise? have I
wished to transgress the relations? That Thou
hast given me life, I thank Thee for what
Thou has given me: so long as I have used the
things which arc Thine, I am content; take
them back and place them wherever Thou
mayest choose; for Thine were all things.
Thou gavest them to me.”* Is it not enough
to depart in this state of mind, and what life is
better and more becoming than that of a man
who is in this state of mind? and what end is
more happy ?

But that this may be done, a man must re-
ceive no small things, nor arc the things small
which he must lose. You cannot both wish to
be a consul and to have these things, and to be
eager to have lands and these things also; and
to be solicitous about slaves and about yourself.
But if you wish for anything which belongs to
another, that which is your own is lost. This
is the nature of the thing: nothing is given or
had for nothing.^ And where is the wonder?
If you wish to be a consul, you must keep
awake, run about, kiss hands, waste yourself
with exhaustion at other men's doors, say and
do many things unworthy of a free man, send
gifts to many, daily presents to some. And
what is the thing that is got? Twelve bundles
of rods, to sit three or four limes on the tri-
bunal, to exhibit the games in the Circus and
to give sup|x:rs in small baskets. Or, if you do
not agree about tliis, let some one show me
what there is besides these things. In order,
then, to secure freedom from passions, tran-
quillity, to sleep well when you do sleep, to be

* See iii. 2. *Scc iv. 2.

* John, 17.6,

240 EPICTETUS

really awake when you are awake, to fear thither? What would he have, or what does he

nothing, to be anxious about nothing, will you
spend nothing and give no labour? But if any-
diing belonging to you be lost while you are
thus busied, or be wasted badly, or another
obtains what you ought to have obtained, will
you immediately be vexed at what has hap-
pened? Will you not take into the account on
the other side what you receive and for what,
how much for how much? Do you expect to
have for nothing things so great? And how
can you? One work has no community with
another. You cannot have both external things
after bestowing care on them and your own
ruling faculty but if you would have those,
give up this. If you do not, you will have
neither this nor that, while you are drawn in
different ways to both.* The oil will be spilled,
the household vessels will perish: but I shall be
free from passions. There will be a (ire when
I am not present, and the books will be de-
stroyed: but I shall treat appearances accord-
ing to nature. ‘‘Well; but I shall have nothing
to eat.” If I am so unlucky, death is a harbour;
and death is the harbour for all; this is the
place of refuge; and for this reason not one of
the things in life is difficult: as soon as you
choose, you are out of the house, and are
smoked no more.* Why, then, are you anxious,
why do you lose your sleep, why do ybu not
straightway, after considering wherein your
good is and your evil, say, “Both of them arc
in my power? Neither can any man deprive
me of the good, nor involve me in the bad
against my will. Why do I not throw myself
down and snore? for all that I have is safe. As
to the things which belong to others, he will
look to them who gets them, as they may be
given by Him who has the power. Who am I
who wish to have them in this way or in that?
is a power of selecting them given to me? has
any person made me the dispenser of them?
Those things are enough for me over which I
have power: I ought to manage them as well
as I can: and all the rest, as the Master of
them may choose.”

When a man has these things before his
eyes, docs he keep awake and turn hither and

^ Matt. 6. 24.

*Seeiv. 2.

’ Compare L 9 and 25.

regret, Patroclus or Antilochus or Menelaus?*
For when did he suppose that any of his
friends was immorul, and when had he not
before his eyes that on the morrow or the day
after he or his friend must die? “Yes,” he says,
“but I thought that he would survive me and
bring up my son.” You were a fool for that
reason, and you were thinking of what was
uncertain. Why, then, do you not blame your-
self, and sit crying like girls? “But he used to
set my food before me.” Because he was alive,
you fool, but now he cannot: but Automedon
will set it before you, and if Automedon also
dies, you will find another. But if the pot, in
which your meat was cooked, should be bro-
ken, must you die of hunger, because you have
not the pot which you are accustomed to? Do
you not send and buy a new pot? He says:

**No greater til than this could fall on we.”*

Why is this your ill? Do you, then, instead of
removing it, blame your mother for not fore-
telling it to you that you might continue griev-
ing from that time? What do you think? do
you not suppose that Homer wrote this that
we may learn that those of noblest birth, the
strongest and the richest, 4he most handsome,
when they have not the opinions which they
ought to have, arc not prevented from being
most wretched and unfortunate?

Chaptbr II. About Purity
Some persons raise a question whether the
social feeling* is contained in the nature of
man; and yet I think that these same persons
would have no doubt that love of purity is
certainly contained in it, and that, if man is
distinguished from other animals by anything,
he is distinguished by this. When, then, we
sec any other animal cleaniing itself, we arc
accustomed to speak of the act with surprise,
and to add that the animal is acting like a
man: and, on the other hand, if a man blames
an animal for being dirty, straightway as if we
were making an excuse fot it, we say that of
course the animal is not a human creature. So
we suppose that there is something superior in

*IicMncr, Iliad, xxiv. 5.

* Homer, lUad, xix. 32 1.

*CocnpateL23,iL loandao.

DISCOURSES,

man, and that we first receive it from the
Gods. For since the Gods by their nature are
pure and free from corruption, so far as men
approach them by reason, so far do they cling
to purity and to a love of purity. But since it
is impossible that man’s nature can be alto-
gether pure being mixed of such materials,
reason is applied, as far as it is possible, and
reason endeavours to make human nature love
purity.

The first, then, and highest purity is that
which is in the soul; and we say the same of
impurity. Now you could not discover the im-
purity of the soul as you could discover that
of the body: but as to the soul, what else could
you find in it than that which makes it filthy
in respect to the acts which arc her own? Now
the acts of the soul arc movement toward an
object or movement from it, desire, aversion,
preparation, design, assent. What, then, is it
which in these acts makes the soul filthy and
impure? Nothin|i', else than her own bad judge-
ments. Consequently, the impurity of the soul
is the soul’s bad opinions; and the purification
of the soul is the planting in it of proper
opinions; and the soul is pure which has prop-
er opinions, for the soul alone in her own acts
is free from perturbation and pollution.

Now we ought to work at something like
this in the body also, as far as we can. It was
impossible for the defiuxions of the nose not
to run when man has such a mixture in his
body. For this reason, nature has made hands
and the nostrils themselves as channels for
carrying off the humours. If, then, a man
sucks up the defiuxions, I say that he is not
doing the act of a man. It was impossible for
a man’s feet not to he made muddy and not
be soiled at all when he passes through dirty
places. For this reason, nature has made water
and hands. It was impossible that some im-
purity should not remain in the teeth from
eating: for this reason, she says, w'ash the teeth.
Why? In order that you may be a man and
not a wild beast or a hog. It was impossible
that from the sweat and the pressing of the
clothes there should not remain some impurity
about the body which requires to be cleaned
away. For this reasoh water, oil, hands, towels,
scrapers, nitre, sometimes all other kinds of
means are necessary for cleaning the body.

BOOK IV 241

You do not act so: but the smith will take off
the rust from the iron, and he will have tools
prepared for this purpose, and you yourself
wash the platter when you are going to eat,
if you arc not completely impure and dirty:
but will you not wash the body nor make
it clean? “Why?” he replies. I will tell you
again; in the first place, that you may do the
acts of a man; then, that you may not be dis-
agreeable to those with whom you associate.
You do something of this kind even in this
matter, and you do not perceive it: you think
that you deserve to stink. Let it be so: de-
serve to stink. Do you think that also those
who sit by you, those who recline at table with
you, that those w'ho kiss you deserve the
same? Either go into a desert, where you de-
serve to go, or live by yourself, and smell your-
self. For it is just that you alone should enjoy
your own impurity. But when you are in a
city, to behave so inconsiderately and foolishly,
to what character do you think that it belongs?
If nature had intrusted to you a horse, would
you have overlooked and neglected him ? And
now think that you have been intrusted with
your own body as with a horse; wash it, wipe
it, take care that no man turns away from it,
that no one gets out of the way for it. But who
does not get out of the way of a dirty man, of
a stinking man, of a man whose skin is foul,
more than he does out of the way of a man
who is daubed with muck? That smell is
from without, it is put upon him; but the other
smell is from want of care, from within, and
in a manner from a body in putrefaction.

“But Socrates washed himself seldom.” Yes,
but his body was clean and fair: and it was
so agreeable and sweet that the most beautiful
and the most noble loved him, and desired to
sit by him rather than by the side of those who
had the handsomest forms. It was in his power
neither to use the bath nor to wash himself, if
he chose; and yet the rare use of water had an
effect. If you do not choose to wash with warm
water, wash with cold. But Aristophanes says:
Those who arc pale, unshod, *tis those / mean}
For Aristophanes says of Socrates that he also
walked the air and stole clothes from the
palxstra.* But all who ^ave written about

^ Aristophanes, Cloudst 10a.

* Ihid, 225 and 179.

242 EPICTETUS

Socrates bear exactly the contrary evidence in
his favour; they say that he was pleasant not
only to hear, but also to see. On the other hand
they write the same about Diogenes.^ For we
ought not even by the appearance of the body
to deter the multitude from philosophy; but
as in other things, a philosopher should show
himself cheerful and tranquil, so also he should
in the things that relate to the body: “Sec, ye
men, that I have nothing, that I want nothing:
see how I am without a house, and without
a city, and an exile, if it happens to be so, and
without a hearth I live more free from trouble
and more happily than all of noble birth and
than the rich. But look at my poor body also
and observe that it is not injured by my hard
way of living.” But if a man says this to me,
who has the appearance and face of a con-
demned man, what God shall persuade me to
approach philosophy, if it makes men such
persons.^ Far from it; I would not choose to
do so, even if I were going to become a wise
man. I indeed would rather that a young man,
who is making his first movements tow'ard
philosophy, should come to me with his hair
carefully trimmed than with it dirty and
rough, for there is seen in him a certain notion
of beauty and a desire of that which is be-
coming; and where he supposes it to be, there
also he strives that it shall be. It is only neces-
sary to show him, and to say: “Young man,
you seek beauty, and you do well: you must
know then that it grows in that part of you
where you have the rational faculty: seek it
there where you have the movements toward
and the movements from things, where you
have the desire toward, and the aversion from
things: for this is what you have in yourself
of a superior kind; but the poor body is nat-
urally only earth: why do you labour about
it to no purpose? if you shall learn nothing
else, you will learn from time that the body is
nothing.” But if a man comes to fne daubed
with filth, dirty, with a musuchc down to his
knees, what can I say to him, by what kind
of resemblance can 1 lead him on? For about
what has he busied himself which resembles
beauty, that I may be able to change him and
say, “Beauty is not in this, but in that?” Would
you have me to tell him, that beauty consists
1 See iii. 22.

not in being daubed with muck, but that it
lies in the rational part? Has he any desire of
beauty? has he any form of it in his mind? Go
and talk to a hog, and tell him not to roll in
the mud.

For this reason the words of Xenocrates
touched Polemon also; since he was a lover of
beauty, for he entered, having in him certain
incitements to love of beauty, but he looked
for it in the wrong placc.^ For nature has not
made even the animals dirty which live with
man. Does a horse ever wallow in the mud,
or a well-bred dog? But the hog, and the dirty
geese, and worms and spiders do, which are
banished furthest from human intercourse. Do
you, then, being a man, choose to be not as
one of the animals w^hich live with man, but
rather a worm, or a spider? Will you not wash
yourself somewhere some time in such manner
as you choose? Will you not wash off the dirt
from your body? Will you not come clean that
those with w^hom you keep company may
have pleasure in being with you? But do you
go with us even into the temples in such a
state, where it is not permitted to spit or blow
the nose, being a heap of spittle and of snot?

When then? docs any man retjuire you to
ornament yourself? Far J/om it; except to
ornament that which we really arc by nature,
the rational faculty, the opinions, the actions;
but as to the body only so far as purity, only so
far as not to give offense. But if you arc told
that you ought not to wear garments dyed
with purple, go and daub your cloak with
muck or tear it. “But how shall I have a neat
cloak?” Man, you have water; wash it. Here
is a youth worthy of being loved, here is an
old man worthy of loving and being loved in
return, a fit person for a man to intrust to him
a son’s instruction, to whom daughters and
young men shall come, if opportunity shall
so happen, that the teacher shall deliver his
lessons to them on a dunghill. Let this not be
so: every deviation comes from something
which is in man’s nature; but this is near
being something not in man’s nature.

Chapter 12. On attention

When you have remitted your attention for

a short time, do not imagine this, that you

* See iii, x.

DISCOURSES, BOOK IV

will recover it when you choose; but let this
thought be present to you, that in consequence
of the fault committed to-day your affairs
must be in a worse condition for all that fol-
lows. For first, and what causes most trouble,
a habit of not attending is formed in you;
then a habit of deferring your attention. And
continually from time to time you drive away,
by deferring it, the happiness of life, proper
behaviour, the being and living conformably
to nature. If, then, the procrastination of at-
tention is profitable, the complete omission of
attention is more profitable; but if it is not
profitable, why do you not maintain your at-
tention constant? “To-day I choose to play.*’
Well then, ought you not to play with atten-
tion ? “I choose to sing.” What, then, hinders
you from doing so with attention? Is there any
part of life excepted, to which attention does
not extend? For will you do it worse by using
attention, and better by not attending at all?
And what eb:c c f things in life is done better
by those who do not use attention? Docs he
who works in wood work l>etter by not at-
tending to it? Does the captain of a ship man-
age it better by not attending? and is any of
the smaller acts done better by inattention?
Do you not sec that, when you have let your
mind loose, it is no lunger in your power to re-
call it, either to propriety, or to modesty, or to
moderation: but you do everything that comes
into your mind in obedience to your inclina-
tions?

To what things then ought I to attend?
First to those general (principles) and to have
them in readiness, and without them not to
sleep, not to rise, not to drink, not to eat, not
to converse with men; that no man is master
of another man’s will, but that in the will
alone is the good and the bad. No man, then,
has the power cither to procure for me any
good or to involve me in any evil, but I alone
myself over myself have })owcr in these things.
When, then, these things are secured to me,
why need I be disturbed about external things?
What tyrant is formidable, what disease, what
poverty, what offense? “ Well, 1 have not pleased
a certain person.” Is he then my w'ork, my
judgement? “No.”"Why then should I trouble
myself about him? “But he is supposed to be
some one.” He will look to that himself; and

those who think so will also. But I have One
Whom I ought to please, to Whom I ought to
subject myself, Whom I ought to obey, God
and those who arc next to Him.* He has placed
me with myself, and has put my will in obedi-
ence to myself alone, and has given me rules
for the right use of it; and when I follow these
rules in syllogisms, I do not care for any man
who says anything else: in sophistical argu-
ment, I care for no man. Why then in greater
matters do those annoy me who blame me?
What is the cause of this perturbation? Noth-
ing else than because in this matter I am not
disciplined. For all knowledge despises igno-
rance and the ignorant; and not only the sci-
ences, but even the arts. Produce any shoe-
maker that you please, and he ridicules the
many in resi^cct to his own work.** Produce
any carpenter.

First, then, we ought to have these in readi-
ness, and to do nothing without them, and we
ought to keep the soul directed to this mark, to
pursue nothing external, and nothing which
belongs to others, but to do as He has ap-
pointed Who has the pwwcr; we ought to pur-
sue altogether the things which arc in the
power of the will, and all other things as it is
permitted. Next to this we ought to remember
who we are, and what is our name, and to en-
deavour to direct our duties toward the char-
acter of our several relations in this manner:
what is the season for singing, what is the sea-
son for play, and in whose presence; what will
be the consequence of the act; whether our as-
sociates will despise us, whether we shall de-
spise them; when to jeer, and whom to ridi-
cule; and on what occasion to comply and with
whom; and finally, in complying how to main-
tain our own character.® But wherever you
have deviated from any of these rules, there is
damage immediately, not from anything ex-
ternal, but from the action itself.

What then? is it possible to be free from
faults? It is not possible; but this is possible, to
direct your efforts incessantly to being fault-
less. For we must be content if by never remit-
ting this attention we shall escape at least a
few errors. But now when you have said, “To-

* 0>m|Mrc IV. i. 14.

* C>>mp.irc 11. n; Marcus Aurelius, vi. 35,

* Sec i. .29; III. 14.

EPICTETUS

morrow I will begin to attend/* you must be
told that you are saying this, 'To-day I will be
shameless, disregardful of time and place,
mean; it will be in the power of others to give
me pain; to-day I will be passionate and en-
vious.” See how many evil things you are per-
mitting yourself to do. If it is good to use at-
tention to-morrow, how much better is it to do
so to-day.^ if to-morrow it is in your interest
to attend, much more is it to-day, that you may
be able to do so to-morrow also, and may not
defer it again to the third day.^

Chapter 13. Against or to those who readily

tell their own affairs

When a man has seemed to us to have talked
with simplicity about his own affairs, how is it
that at last we are ourselves also induced to
discover to him our own secrets and we think
this to be candid behaviour? In the first place,
because it seems unfair for a man to have lis-
tened to the affairs of his neighbour, and not
to communicate to him also in turn our own
affairs: next, because we think that we shall
not present to them the appearance of candid
men when we are silent about our own affairs.
Indeed men are often accustomed to say, “I
have told you all my affairs, will you tell me
nothing of your owm? where is this done?”
Besides, we have also this opinion that we can
safely trust him who has already told us his
owm affairs; for the notion rises in our mind
that this man could never divulge our affairs
because he would be cautious that we also
should not divulge his. In this way also the in-
cautious are caught by the soldiers at Rome.
A soldier sits by you in a common dress and
begins to speak ill of Cxsar; then you, as if
you had received a pledge of his fidelity by his
having begun the abuse, utter yourself also
what you think, and then you are carried off
in chains.

Something of this kind happens to us gen-
erally. Now as this man has confidently in-
trusted his affairs to me, shall I also do so to
any man whom I meet? For when I have
heard, I keep silence, if I am of such a disposi-
tion; but he goes forth and tells all men what
he has heard. Then if I hear what has been
done, if I be a man like him, I resolve to be re-

^ Compofc Marcus Aurrliu», viii. 22 .

venged, I divulge what he has told me; I both
disturb others and am disturbed myself. But if
I remember that one man does not injure an-
other, and that every man’s acts injure and
profit him, I secure this, that I do not any-
thing like him, but still I suffer what I do suf-
fer through my own silly talk.

“True: but it is unfair when you have heard
the secrets of your neighbour for you in turn
to communicate nothing to him.” Did I ask
you for your secrets, my man? did you com-
municate your affairs on certain terms, that
you should in return hear mine also? If you
are a babbler and think that all who meet you
are friends, do you wish me also to be like
you? But why, if you did well in intrusting
your affairs to me, and it is not well for me to
intrust mine to you, do you wish me to be so
rash? It is just the same as if I had a cask
which is water-tight, and you one with a hole
in it, and you should come and deposit with
me your wine that I might put it into my cask,
and then should complain that I also did not
intrust my wine to you, for you have a cask
with a hole in it. How then is there any equal-
ity here? You intrusted your affairs to a man
who is faithful and modest, to a man who
thinks that his own actions ^lonc are injurious
and useful, and that nothing external is.
Would you have me intrust mine to you, a
man who has dishonoured his own faculty of
will, and who w'ishes to gain some small bit
of money or some office or promotion in the
court, even if you should be going to murder
your own children, like Medea? Where is this
equality? But show yourself to me to be faith-
ful, modest, and steady: show me that you have
friendly opinions; show that your cask has no
hole in it; and you will see how 1 shall not
wait for you to trust me with your affairs, but
I myself shall come to you and ask you to hear
mine. For who does not choose to make use of
a good vessel? Who does not value a benevo-
lent and faithful adviser? who will not will-
ingly receive a man who ready to bear a
share, as we may say, of tht difficulty of his
circumstances, and by this very act to ease the
burden, by taking a part of it.

'True; but I trust you; you do not trust
me.” In the first place, not even do you trust
me, but you are a babbler, and for this reason

DISCOVRSES, BOOK IV

you cannot hold anything; for indeed, if it is
true that you trust me, trust your affairs to me
only; but now, whenever you see a man at
leisure, you seat yourself by him and say:
“Brother, I have no friend more benevolent
than you nor dearer; 1 request you to listen to
my affairs.’* And you do this even to those who
are not known to you at all. But if you really
trust me, it is plain that you trust me because
I am faithful and modest, not because I have
told my affairs to you. Allow me, then, to
have the same opinion about you. Show me
that, if one man tells his affairs to another, he
who tells them is faithful and modest. For if
this were so, I would go about and tell my af-
fairs to every man, if that would make me
faithful and modest. But the thing is not so,
and it requires no common opinions. If, then,
you see a man who is busy about things not
dependent on his will and subjecting his will

to them, you must know that this man has ten
thousand persons to compel and hinder him.
He has no need of pitch or the wheel to com-
pel him to declare what he knows;' but a little
girl’s nod, if it should so happen, will move
him, the blandishment of one who belongs to
Czsar’s court, desire of a magistracy or of an
inheritance, and things without end of that
sort. You must remember, then, among gen-
eral principles that secret discourses require
fidelity and corresponding opinions. But where
can we now find these easily.^ Or if you can-
not answer that question, let some one point
out to me a man who can say; “I care only
about the things which are my own, the things
which are not subject to hindrance, the things
which are by nature free.” This I hold to be the
nature of the good; but let all other things be as
they are allowed; I do not concern myself.

‘SeeiL6.

THE MEDITATIONS OF
MARCUS AURELIUS

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Marcus Aurelius, a.d. 12.1-180

Marcus Annius Verus, known to history as
the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, was born at
Rome in the year 121. His father’s family, like
that of Trajan, was Spanish, but had been
resident in Rome for many years and had re-
ceived patrician rank from Vespasian. He lost
his father in infancy and was brought up by
his mother and his paternal grandfather, who
not only gave him the example of their own
virtue and piety, but secured for him the best
of teachers in Greek and Latin literature,
rhetoric, philosophy, law, and even painting.
In the first book of his Meditations Marcus
Aurelius makes grateful and precise acknowl-
edgment of what he learned from the mem-
bers of his family and from his teachers. **To
the gods I am indebted for having good grand-
fathers, good parents, a good sister, good
teachers, good associates, good kinsmen and
friends, nearly everything good.”

Among the teachers of Marcus Aurelius
were Sextus of Chaeronca, a grandson of Plu-
tarch, Junius Rusticus, to whom he owed his
acquaintance with the discourses of Epictetus,
and the rhetorician Marcus Cornelius Pronto,
with whom between the years 143 and 161 he
carried on a correspondence. From Diognetus
the Stoic he learned what it meant “to have
become intimate with philosophy . . . and to
have desired a plank bed and skin and what-
ever else of the kind belongs to the Grecian
discipline.” For a time he assumed the dress
of the Stoic sect and lived so abstemious and
laborious a life that he injured his health.

As a child Marcus Aurelius had gained the
favor of Hadrian by the frankness of his char-
acter. Hadrian called him Verissimus (most
true or sincere) from his family name Verus,
gave him equestrian honors at the ago of six,
and made him a priest of the Salian brother-
hood at the age of eight. After the death of
Aelius Caesar, Hadrian adopted as his heir

Marcus Antoninus Pius, the uncle of Marcus,
on condition that he in turn adopt Marcus
Aurelius and Lucius Ceionius Commodus,
son of Aelius Caesar.

Hadrian died in 138. In 139 the title of
Caesar was conferred upon Marcus Aurelius;
in 140 he was consul and from 147, when he
was invested with the tribunician power, to
the death of Antoninus Pius in 161, Marcus
Aurelius shared the burdens, if not the honors,
of imperial rule. At the age of fifteen he had
been betrothed to a daughter of Aelius Caesar,
but after his adoption this engagement was
broken and he married Faustina, the daughter
of Antoninus Pius.

When the Emperor Antoninus was dying
he had the Statue of Victory carried into the
rooms of Marcus Aurelius as the material sign
of the transfer of imperial power, and he rec-
ommended Marcus Aurelius to the senate as
his successor without any mention of Corn-
modus. Marcus Aurelius, however, at once
conferred upon his adoptive brother the tribu-
nician and proconsular powers and the titles
of Caesar and Augustus. For the first time
Rome had two emperors. But Lucius Verus, as
Commodus was henceforth known, was more
interested in his pleasures than in his im-
perial duties. He deferred to Marcus Aurelius
and was content to play the second role until
his death in 169.

The reign of Antoninus Pius had been a
time of peace and prosperity; that of Marcus
Aurelius was filled with every kind of calam-
ity.. The vMsdom and firmness of the emperor
could not prevent the beginning of decline.
In the first year of his reign there were floods
and famine in Italy, earthquakes in Asia,
eruptions of barbarians :across the northern
frontier, riots and seditions of the legionaries
in Britain. But there were even more serious
preoccupations for Marcus Aurelius. Hadrian

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

and Antoninus had kept the kingdom of
Armenia under Roman influence, but as soon
as Antoninus died the Parthians drove out the
Armenian king, friendly to Rome, and put in
a king of their own choice. The province of
Syria was at once attacked. At the same time
the Goths, coming down from the Baltic, were
driving other German tribes before them,
some of whom overflowed into the Roman
provinces on the right bank of the Danube.
Marcus Aurelius spent most of his reign fight-
ing the Parthians in the East and the Quadi,
the Marcomanni, and other barbarian nations
in the North. The last ten years of his life he
was almost continuously absent from Rome.
The Meditations, “Thoughts addressed to
himself” and not, presumably, intended for
publication, were written down, in part at
least, during the time Marcus Aurelius was
campaigning against the Germans.

In 175, after a series of victories, Marcus
Aurelius left the Danube to restore order in
Syria, where the brilliant general, Avidius
Cassius, had revolted and declared himself
emperor. Before the arrival of Marcus Au-
relius, Cassius was assassinated by one of his
officers, thereby depriving the emjwror “of the
pleasure of pardoning him." Marcus Aurelius
showed remarkable clemency toward the fam-
ily and friends of Cassius and is said to’have
burned his correspondence without reading it.

While he was returning from the pacifica-

tion of the Hast, Marcus Aurelius lost his wife,
who died in a village of Asia Minor. Faustina’s
name has become a symbol for infidelity and
debauchery, though all that is known of her
is that she bore eleven children, that her hus-
band trusted her and mourned her death. On
his wav home Marcus Aurelius visited Athens
where he endowed chairs of philosophy and
rhetoric and was initiated into the Eleusinian
mysteries. In 176 he entered Rome with his
son, Commodus, and celebrated a triumph for
his German victories, after which he took the
title of Germanicus Maximus.

The role played by Marcus Aurelius in the
persecution of the Christians in 177 has been
the subject of much controversy. He was un-
doubtedly unsympathetic to Christianity as he
knew it. His attitude as emperor was perhaps
the same as that of Trajan, that the Christians
should not lx; “pursued,” but if, when asked
to sacrifice to the gods, they refused, they
should be punished on the ground that they
were opposing the order and authority of the
state.

The German war soon broke out again and
Marcus Aurelius had to return to the Danulre,
where he died, probably from natural causes,
on the 17th of March, iS:^ toward the close
of his fifty-ninth year. His ensuing deification
met with wide-spread rcsjx)nsc, and for a long
time his statue held a prominent place among
the {Knates of the Romans.

CONTENTS

Biographical Note, p. 2.49
Book I, p. 253 Book II, p. 256 Book III, p. 259
Book IV, p. 263 Book V, p. 268 Book VI, p. 274
Book VII, p. 279 Book VIII, p. 285 Book IX, p. 291
Book X, p. 296 Book XI, p. 302 Book XII, p. 307

251

THE MEDITATIONS OF
MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS

• BOOK ONE •

From my grandfather Verus I learned good
morals and the government of my temper.

2. From the reputation and remembrance of
my father,' modesty and a manly character.

3. From my mother, piety and beneficence,
and abstinence, not only from evil deeds, but
even from evil thoughts; and further, simplic-
ity in my way of living, far removed from the
habits of the rich.

4. From my gi eat grandfather, not to have
frequented public schools, and to have had
good teachers at home, and to know that on
such things a man should spend liberally.

5. From my governor, to be neither of the
green nor of the blue party at the games in the
Circus, nor a partizan either of the Parmula-
rius or the Scutarius at the gladiators’ fights;
from him too I learned endurance of labour,
and to want little, and to work with my own
hands, and not to meddle with other people’s
affairs, and not to be ready to listen to slander.

6. From Diognetus, not to busy myself about
trifling things, and not to give credit to what
was said by miracle-workers and jugglers
about incantations and the driving away of
daemons and such things; and not to breed
quails for fighting, nor to give myself up pas-
sionately to such things; and to endure free-
dom of speech; and to have become intimate
with philosophy; and to have been a hearer,
first of Bacchius, then of Tandasis and Mar-
cianus; and to have written dialogues in my
youth; and to have desired a plank bed and
skin, and whatever else of the kind belongs to
the Grecian discipline.

7. From Rusticus I received the impression
that my character required improvement and
discipline; and from him I learned not to be

*IIis real £itber, Annius Verus.

led astray to sophistic emulation, nor to writ-
ing on speculative matters, nor to delivering
little hortatory orations, nor to showing myself
off as a man who practises much discipline, or
does benevolent acts in order to make a dis-
play; and to abstain from rhetoric, and poetry,
and fine writing; and not to walk about in
the house in my outdoor dress, nor to do other
things of the kind; and to write my letters with
simplicity, like the letter which Rusticus w’rotc
from Sinuessa to my mother; and with respect
to those who have offended me by words, or
done me wrong, to be easily dis|)osed to be
pacified and reconciled, as soon as they have
shown a readiness to be reconciled; and to read
carefully, and not to be satisfied with a super-
ficial understanding of a book; nor hastily to
give my assent to those who talk overmuch;
and I am indebted to him for being acquainted
with the discourses of Epictetus, which he
communicated to me out of his own collection.

8. From Apollonius I learned freedom of
will and undeviating steadiness of purpose;
and to look to nothing else, not even for a mo-
ment, except to reason; and to be always the
same, in sharp pains, on the occasion of the loss
of a child, and in long illness; and to see clearly
in a living example that the same man can be
both most resolute and yielding, and not pee-
vish in giving his instruction; and to have had
before my eyes a man who clearly considered
his experience and his skill in expounding
philosophical principles as the smallest of his
merits; and from him I learned how to receive
from friends what are esteemed favours, with-
out being either humbled by them or letting
them pass unnoticed.

9. From Sextus, a benevolent disposition,
and the example of a family governed in a

^53

254

fatherly manner, and the idea of living con-
formably to nature; and gravity without affec-
tation, and to look carefully after the interests
of friends, and to tolerate ignorant persons, and
those who form opinions without considera-
tion: he had the power of readily accommodat-
ing himself to all, so that intercourse with him
was more agreeable than any flattery; and at
the same time he was most highly venerated by
those who associated with him: and he had the
faculty both of discovering and ordering, in an
intelligent and methodical way, the principles
necessary for life; and he never showed anger
or any other passion, but was entirely free from
passion, and also most affectionate; and he
could express approbation without noisy dis-
play, and he possessed much knowledge with-
out ostentation.

10. From Alexander the grammarian, to
refrain from fault-finding, and not in a re-
proachful way to chide those who uttered any
barbarous or solecistic or strange-sounding ex-
pression; but dexterously to introduce the very
expression which ought to have been used, and
in the way of answer or giving confirmation, or
joining in an inquiry about the thing itself, not
about the word, or by some other fit sugges-
tion.

11. From Pronto I learned to observe what
envy, and duplicity, and hypocrisy are* in a
tyrant, and that generally those among us who
are called Patricians are rather deficient in pa-
ternal affection.

12. From Alexander the Platonic, not fre-
quently nor without necessity to say to any one,
or to write in a letter, that I have no leisure;
nor continually to excuse the neglect of duties
required by our relation to those with whom
we live, by alleging urgent occupations.

13. From Catulus, not to be indifTcrcni when
a friend finds fault, even if he should find fault
without reason, but to try to restore him to his
usual disposition; and to be ready to speak well
of teachers, as it is reported of Domitius and
Athenodotus; and to love my children truly.

14. From my brother Severus, to love my
kin, and to love truth, and to love justice; and
through him I learned to know Thrasca, Hcl-
vidius, Cato, Dion, Brutus; and from him I re-
ceived the idea of a polity in which there is the
same law for all, a polity administered with

9-/6

regard to equal rights and equal freedom of
speech, and the idea of a kingly government
which respects most of all the freedom of the
governed; I learned from him also consistency
and imdeviating steadiness in my regard for
philosophy; and a disposition to do good, and
to give to others readily, and to cherish good
hopes, and to believe that I am loved by my
friends; and in him I observed no concealment
of his opinions with respect to those whom he
condemned, and that his friends had no need
to conjecture what he wished or did not wish,
but it was quite plain.

15. From Maximus I learned self-govern-
ment, and not to be led aside by anything; and
cheerfulness in all circumstances, as well as in
illness; and a just admixture in the moral char-
acter of sweetness and dignity, and to do what
was set before me without complaining. I ob-
served that everybody believed that he thought
as he spoke, and that in all that he did he never
had any bad intention; and he never showed
amazement and surprise, and was never in a
hurry, and never put off doing a thing, nor was
perplexed nor dejected, nor did he ever laugh
to disguise his vexation, nor, on the other hand,
was he ever passionate or suspicious. He was
accustomed to do acts of beiicficcnce, and was
ready to forgive, and was free from all false-
hood; and he presented the appearance of a
man who could not be diverted from right
rather than of a man who had been improved.
I observed, too, that no rivin could ever think
that he was despised by Maximus, or ever ven-
ture to think himself a better man. He had also
the art of being humorous in an agreeable way.

16. In my father' I observed mildness of
temper, and unchangeable resolution in the
things which he had determined after due
delil^eration; and no vainglory in those things
which men call honours; and a love of labour
and perseverance; and a readiness to listen to
those who had anything to projxjse for the
common weal; and undeviating firmness in
giving to every man according to his deserts;
and a knowledge derived from experience of
the occasions for vigorous action and for re-
mission. And I observed that he had overcome
all passion for boys; and he considered him-
;;clf no more than any other citizen; and he rc-

* 1 lis adoptive father, ttic Emperor Antoninus Pius.

MARCUS AURELIUS

i&-iy

leased his friends from all obligation to sup
with him or to attend him of necessity when
he went abroad, and those who had failed to
accompany him, by reason of any urgent cir-
cumstances, always found him the same. I ob-
served too his habit of careful inquiry in all
matters of deliberation, and his persistency,
and that he never stopped his investigation
through being satisfied with appearances which
first present themselves; and that his disposi-
tion was to keep his friends, and not to be soon
tired of them, nor yet to be extravagant in his
affection; and to Ix' satisfied on all occasions,
and clicerful; and to foresee things a long way
off, and to provide for the smallest without dis-
play; and to check immediately popular ap-
plause and all flattery; and to be ever watchful
over the things which were necessary for the
administration of the empire, and to be a good
manager of the expenditure, and patiently to
endure the blame which he got for such con-
duct; and he wa:- neither superstitious with re-
spect to the gods, nor did he court men by gifts
or by trying to please them, or by flattering the
populace; but he showed sobriety in all things
and firmness, and never any mean thoughts or
action, nor love of novelty. And the things
which conduce in any way to the commodity
of life, and of which fortune gives an abundant
supply, he used without arrogance and with-
out excusing himself; so that w'hen he had
them, he enjoyed them without alTcctation,
and when he had them not, he ditl not want
them. No one could ever say of liini that he
was either a 50 [)hist or a home-bred flippant
slave or a pedant; but every one acknowledged
him to be a man ripe, perfect, above flattery,
able to manage his own and other men'saffairs.
Besides tins, he hun()ured those who were true
philosophers, and he did not reproach those
who pretended to be philosophers, nor yet was
he easily led by them. He was also easy in con-
versation, and he made himself agreeable with-
out any offensive aficciaiion. He took a reason-
able care of his body’s health, not as one who
was greatly attached to life, nor out of regard
to personal appearance, nor yet in a careless
way, but so that, through his own attention, he
very seldom stood in need of the physician's
art or of medicine or external applications. He
was most ready to give way without envy to

255

those who possessed any particular faculty,
such as that of eloquence or knowledge of the
law or of morals, or of anything else; and he
gave them his help, that each might enjoy rep-
utation according to his deserts; and he always
acted conformably to the institutions of his
country, without showing any affectation of
doing so. Further, he was not fond of change
nor unsteady, but he loved to stay in the same
places, and to employ himself about the same
things; and after his paroxysms of headache he
came immediately fresh and vigorous to his
usual occupations. His secrets were not many,
but very few and very rare, and these only
about public matters; and he showed prudence
and economy in the exhibition of the public
s{>cctacles and the construction of public build-
ings, his donations to the people, and in such
things, for hr was a man who looked to what
ought to be done, not to the reputation which
is got by a man’s acts. He did not take the
bath at unseasonable hours; he was not fond of
building houses, nor curious about what he ate,
nor alx>ut the texture and colour of his clothes,
nor about the beauty of his slaves. His dress
came from Lorium, his villa on the coast, and
irom Lanuvium generally. We know how' he
behaved to the toll-collector at Tusculum who
asked his pardon; and such was all his behav-
iour. There was in him nothing harsh, nor im-
placable, nor violent, nor, as one may say, any-
thing carried lo the sweating point; but he
examined all things severally, as if he had
abundance of time, and without confusion, in
an orderly way, vigorously and consistently.
And that might be applied to him which is re-
corded of Socrates, that he was able both to
abstain from, and to enjoy, those things which
many are too weak to abstain from, and cannot
enjoy without excess. But to be strong enough
lx)th to bear the one and to be sober in the other
is the mark of a man who has a perfect and in-
vincible soul, such as he showed in the illness
of Maximus.

17. To the gods I am indebted for having
good grandfathers, good parents, a good sister,
good teachers, good associates, good kinsmen
and friends, nearly everything good. Further,
I owe it to the gods that \ tvas not hurried into
any offence against any of them, though I had
a disposition which, if opportunity had offered,

MEDITATIONS, BOOK I

256 MARCUS AUKEUVS ij

might have led me to do something of this
kind; but, through their favour, there never
was such a concurrence of circumstances as
put me to the trial. Further, 1 am thankful to
the gods that I was not longer brought up with
my grandfather’s concubine, and that I pre*
served the flower of my youth, and that I did
not make proof of my virility before the proper
season, but even deferred the time; that I was
subjected to a ruler and a father who was able
to take away all pride from me, and to bring
me to the knowledge that it is possible for a
man to live in a palace without wanting either
guards or embroidered dresses, or torches and
statues, and such-like show; but that it is in
such a man’s power to bring himself very near
to the fashion of a private person, without be-
ing for this reason either meaner in thought,
or more remiss in action, with respect to the
things which must be done for the public inter-
est in a manner that befits a ruler. I thank
the gods for giving me such a brother,^ who
was able by his moral character to rouse me to
vigilance over myself, and who, at the same
time, pleased me by his respect and affection;
that my children have not been stupid nor de-
formed in body; that I did not make more pro-
ficiency in rhetoric, poetry, and the other
studies, in which I should perhaps have been
completely engaged, if I had seen that i was
making progress in them;. that I made haste to
place those who brought me up in the station
of honour, which they seemed to desire, with-
out putting them off with hope of my doing it
some time after, because they were then still
young; that I knew Apollonius, Rusticus, Max-

• BOOK

Begin the morning by saying to thy^self, I shall
meet with the busy-body, the ungrateful, ar-
rogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All these
things happen to them by reason of their ig-
norance of what is good and eviL But 1 who
have seen the nature of the good that it is
beautiful, and of the bad that it is ugly, and the
nature of him who does wrong, that it is akin
to me, not only of the same blood or seed, but
^ Probably his adoptive brother, L. Verut.

imus; that I received clear and frequent im-
pressions about living according to nature, and
what kind of a life that is, so that, so far as de-
pended on the gods, and their gifts, and help,
and inspirations, nothing hindered me from
forthwith living according to nature, though I
still fall short of it through my own fault, and
through not observing the admonitions of the
gods, and, I may almost say, their direct in-
structions; that my body has held out so long
in such a kind of life; that I never touched
either Benedicta or Theodotus, and that, after
having fallen into amatory passions, I was
cured; and, though 1 was often out of humour
with Rusticus, I never did anything of which I
had occasion to repent; that, though it was my
mother’s fate to die young, she spent the last
years of her life with me; that, whenever I
wished to help any man in his need, or on any
other occasion, I was never told that I had not
the means of doing it; and that to myself the
same necessity never hapj^ened, to receive any-
thing from another; that I have such a wife, so
obedient, and so affectionate, and so simple;
that I had abundance of good masters for my
children; and that remedies have been shown
to me by dreams, both others, and against
bloocispitting and giddineti . . . ; and that,
when 1 had an inclination to philosophy, I did
not fall into the hands of any sophist, and that
I did not waste my time on writers of histories,
or in the resolution of syllogisms, or occupy
myself about the investigation of appearances
in the heavens; for all these things require the
help of the gods and fortune.

Among the Quadi at the Granua.

TWO •

that it participates in the sam^ intelligence and
the same portion of the diviiiity, I can neither
be injured by any of them, ^r no one can fix
on me what is ugly, nor cait I be angry with
my kinsman, nor hate him. jpor we are made
for co-operation, like feet, like hands, like eye-
lids, like the rows of the upper and lower teeth.
To act against one another then is contrary to
nature; and it is acting against one another to
be vexed and to turn away*

2-/0

MEDITATIONS, BOOK II

2. Whatever this is that I am, it is a little flesh
and breath, and the ruling part. Throw away
thy books; no longer distract thyself: it is not
allowed; but as if thou wast now dying, despise
the flesh; it is blood and bones and a network,
a contexture of nerves, veins, and arteries. See
the breath also, what kind of a thing it is, air,
and not always the same, but every moment
sent out and again sucked in. The third then
is the ruling part: consider thus: Thou art an
old man; no longer let this be a slave, no
longer be pulled by the strings like a puppet to
unsocial movements, no longer be either dis-
satisfied with thy present lot, or shrink from
the future.

3. All that is from the gods is full of Provi-
dence. That which is from fortune is not sepa-
rated from nature or without an interweaving
and involution with the things which are or-
dered by Providence. From thence all things
flow; and there is besides necessity, and that
which is for the advantage of the whole uni-
verse, of which thou art a part. But that is good
for every part of nature which the nature of the
whole brings, and what serves to maintain this
nature. Now the universe is preserved, as by
the changes of the elements so by the changes
of things compounded of the elements. Let
these principles be enough for thee, let them
always be fixed opinions. But cast away the
thirst after books, that thou mayest not die
murmuring, but cheerfully, truly, and from
thy heart thankful to the gods.

4. Rememl^r how long thou hast been put-
ting off these thingf, and how often thou hast
received an opportunity from the gods, and
yet dost not use it. Thou must now at last per-
ceive of what universe thou art a part, and of
what administrator of the universe thy exist-
ence is an efflux, and that a limit of time is fixed
for thee, which if thou dost not use for clearing
away the clouds from thy mind, it will go and
thou wilt go, and it will never return.

5. Every moment think steadily as a Roman
and a man to do what thou hast in hand with
perfect and simple dignity, and feeling of affec-
tion, and freedom, and justice; and to give thy-
self relief from all other thoughts. And thou
wilt give thyself relief, if thou docst every act
of thy life as if it were the last, laying aside all
carelessness and passionate aversion from the

commands of reason, and all hypocrisy, and
self-love, and discontent with the portion which
has been given to thee. Thou seest how few the
things are, the which if a man lays hold of, he
is able to live a life which flows in quiet, and is
like the existence of the gods; for the gods on
their part will require nothing more from him
who observes these things.

6. Do wrong to thyself, do wrong to thyself,
my soul; but thou wilt no longer have the op-
portunity of honouring thyself. Every man’s
life is sufficient. But thine is nearly finished,
though thy soul reverences not itself, but places
thy felicity in the souls of others.

7. Do the things external which fall upon
thee distract thee.^ Give thyself time to learn
something new and good, and cease to be
whirled around. But then thou must also avoid
being carried about the other way. For those
too arc triflers who have wearied themselves in
life by their activity, and yet have no object to
which to direct every movement, and, in a
word, all their thoughts.

8. Through not observing what is in the
mind of another a man has seldom been seen
to be unhappy; but those who do not observe
the movements of their own minds must of
necessity be unhappy.

9. This thou must always bear in mind, what
is the nature of the whole, and what is my na-
ture, and how this is related to that, and what
kind of a part it is of what kind of a whole;
and that there is no one who hinders thee from
always doing and saying the things which are
according to the nature of which thou art a
part.

10. Theophrastus, in his comparison of bad
acts — such a comparison as one would make in
accordance with the common notions of man-
kind — says, like a true philosopher, that the
offences which arc committed through desire
are more blameable than those which are com-
mitted through anger. For he who is excited
by anger seems to turn away from reason with
a certain pain and unconscious contraction; but
he who offends through desire, being overpow-
ered by pleasure, seems to be in a manner more
intemperate and more^omanish in his of-
fences. Rightly then, afld in a way worthy of
philosophy, he said that the offence which is
committed with pleasure is more blameable

asS

than that which is committed with pain; and
on the whole the one is more like a person who
has been first wronged and through pain is
compelled to be angry; but the other is moved
by his own impulse to do wrong, being carried
towards doing something by desire.

11. Since it is possible that thou mayest de-
part from life this very moment, regulate every
act and thought accordingly. But to go away
from among men, if there are gods, is not a
thing to be afraid of, for the gods will not in-
volve thee in evil; but if indeed they do not
exist, or if they have no concern about human
affairs, what is it to me to live in a universe de-
void of gods or devoid of Providence? But in
truth they do exist, and they do care for human
things, and they have put all the means in
man’s power to enable him not to fall into real
evils. And as to the rest, if there was anything
evil, they would have provided for this also,
that it should be altogether in a man’s power
not to fall into it. Now that which does not
make a man worse, how can it make a man’s
life worse? But neither through ignorance, nor
having the knowledge, but not the power to
guard against or correct these things, is it pos-
sible that the nature of the universe has os'er-
lookcd them; nor is it possible that it has made
so great a mistake, cither through want of pow-
er or want of skill, that good and evil should
happen indiscriminately to the good and the
bad. But death certainly, and life, honour and
dishonour, pain and pleasure, all these things
equally happen to good men and bad, being
things which make us neither better nor worse.
Therefore they arc neither good nor evil.

12. How quickly all things disappear, in the
universe the bodies themselves, but in time the
remembrance of them; what is the nature of
all sensible things, and particularly thoscwhich
attract with the bait of pleasure or terrify by
pain, or are noised abroad by vapoury fame;
how worthless, and contemptible, and sordid,
and perishable, and dead they arc — all this it
is the part of the intellectual faculty to observe.
To observe too who these are whose opinions
and voices give reputation; what death is, and
the fact that, if a man looks at it in itself, and
by the abstractive power of reflection resolves
into their parts all the things which present
themselves to the imagination in it, he will

10-14.

then consider it to be nothing else than an oper-
ation of nature; and if any one is afraid of an
operation of nature, he is a child. This, how-
ever, is not only an operation of nature, but it
is also a thing which conduces to the purposes
of nature. To observe too how man comes near
to the deity, and by what part of him, and
when this part of man is so disposed.

13. Nothing is more wretched than a man
who traverses everything in a round, and pries
into the things beneath the earth, as the poet ^
says, and seeks by conjecture what is in the
minds of his neighbours, without perceiving
that it is sufficient to attend to the daemon
within him, and to reverence it sincerely. And
reverence of the daemon consists in keeping it
pure from passion and thoughtlessness, and
dissatisfaction with what comes from gods and
men. For the things from the gods merit vener-
ation for their excellence; and the things from
men should be dear to us by reason of kinship;
and sometimes even, in a manner, they jnovc
our pity by reason of men’s ignorance of good
and bad; this defect being not less than that
which deprives us of the power of distinguish-
ing things that are white and black.

14. Though thou shouldst be going to live
three thousand years, and'^s many limes ten
thousand years, still remember that no man
loses any other life than this which he now
lives, nor lives any other than this which he
now loses. The longest and shortest are thus
brought to the same. For the present is the
same to all, though that which perishes is not
the same; and so that which is lost appears to
be a mere moment. For a man cannot lose
cither the past or the future: for what a man
has not, how can any one take this from him?
These two things then thou must bear in mind;
the one, that all things from eternity arc of
like forms and come round it) a circle, and that
it makes no difference whether a man shall sec
the same things during a hundred years or
two hundred, or an infinite time; and the
second, that the longest liver and he who will
die soonest lose just the same. For the present
is the only thing of which a man can be de-
prived, if it is true that this is the only thing
which he has, and that a man cannot lose a
thing if he has it not.

^Cf. Plato, Thtxteiut,

MARCUS AUREUUS

1^2

15. Remember that all is opinion. For what
was said by the Cynic Monimus is manifest:
and manifest too is the use of what was said, if
a man receives what may be got out of it as
far as it is true.

16. The soul of man docs violence to itself,
first of all, when it becomes an abscess and, as
it were, a tumour on the universe, so far as it
can. For to be vexed at anything which hap-
pens is a separation of ourselves from nature,
in some part of which the natures of all other
things arc contained. In the next place, the soul
docs violence to itself when it turns away from
any man, or even moves towards him with the
intention of injuring, such as arc the souls of
those who are angry. In the third place, the
soul docs violence to itself when it is overpow-
ered by pleasure or by pain. Fourthly, when
it plays a part, and does or says anything insin-
cerely and untruly. Fifthly, when it allows any
act of its own and any movement to be without
an aim, and docs anything thoughtlessly and
without considering what it is, it being right
that even the smallest things be done with ref-
erence to an end; and the end of rational ani-
mals is to follow the reason and the law of the
most ancient city and polity.

17. Of human lil * the time is a point, and
the substance is in a flux, and the perception

259

dull, and the composition of the whole body
subject to putrefaction, and the soul a whirl,
and fortune hard to divine, and fame a thing
devoid of judgement. And, to say all in a word,
everything which belongs to the body is a
stream, and what belongs to the soul is a dream
and vapour, and life is a warfare and a stran-
ger’s sojourn, and after-fame is oblivion. What
then is that which is able to conduct a man?
One thing and only one, philosophy. But this
consists in keeping the daemon within a man
free from violence and unharmed, superior to
pains and pleasures, doing nothing without a
purpose, nor yet falsely and with hypocrisy,
not feeling the need of another man’s doing or
not doing anything; and besides, accepting all
that happens, and all that is allotted, as coming
from thence, wherever it is, from whence he
himself came; and, finally, waiting for death
with a cheerful mind, as being nothing else than
a dissolution of the elements of which every
living being is compounded. But if there is no
harm to the elements themselves in each con-
tinually changing into another, why should a
man have any apprehension about the change
and dissolution ot all the elements? For it is ac-
cording to nature, and nothing is evil which is
according to nature.

This in Carnuntum.

MEDITATIONS, BOOK III

: BOOK THREE :

We ought to consider not only that our life is
daily wasting away and a smaller part of it is
left, but another thing also must be taken into
the account, that if a man should live longer, it
is quite uncertain whether the understanding
will still continue sufficient for the comprehen-
sion of things, and retain the power of contem-
plation which strives to acquire the knowledge
of the divine and the human. For if he shall be-
gin to fall into dotage, perspiration and nutri-
tion and imagination and appetite, and what-
ever else there is of the kind, will not fail; but
the power of making use of ourselves, and
filling up the measure of our duty, and clear-
ly separating all appearances, and considering
whether a man should now depart from life,
and whatever else of the kind absolutely re-

quires a disciplined reason, all this is already
extinguished. We must make haste then, not
only because we are daily nearer to death, but
also because the conception of things and the
understanding of them cease first.

2. We ought to observe also that even the
things which follow after the things which arc
produced according to nature contain some-
thing pleasing and attractive. For instance,
when bread is baked some parts arc split at the
surface, and these parts wffiich thus open, and
have a certain fashion contrary to the purpose
of the baker’s art, arc beautiful in a manner,
and in a peculiar way excite a desire for eating.
And again, figs, when they are quite ripe, gape
open; and in the ripe olives the very circum-
stance of their being near to rottenness adds a

26 o

peculiar beauty to the fruit And the ears of
corn bending down, and the lion's eyebrows,
and the foam which flows from the mouth of
wild boars, and many other things — though
they are far from being beautiful, if a man
should examine them severally — still, because
they are consequent upon the things which are
formed by nature, help to adorn them, and
they please the mind; so that if a man should
have a feeling and deeper insight with respect
to the things which are produced in the uni-
verse, there is hardly one of those which follow
by way of consequence which will not seem to
him to be in a manner disposed so as to give
pleasure. And so he will sec even the real gap-
ing jaws of wild beasts with no less pleasure
than those which painters and sculptors show
by imitation; and in an old woman and an old
man he will be able to see a certain maturity
and comeliness; and the attractive loveliness of
young persons he will be able to look on with
chaste eyes; and many such things will present
themselves, not pleasing to every man, but to
him only who has become truly familiar with
nature and her works.

3. Hippocrates after curing many diseases
himself fell sick and died. The Chaldaei fore-
told the deaths of many, and then fate caught
them too. Alexander, and Pompeius,and Caius
Caesar, after so often completely destroying
whole cities, and in battle cutting to pieces
many ten thousands of cavalry and infantry,
themselves too at last departed from life. Her-
aclitus, after so many speculations on the con-
flagration of the universe, was filled with water
internally and died smeared all over with mud.
And lice destroyed Democritus; and other lice
killed Socrates. What means all this? Thou
hast embarked, thou hast made the voyage,
thou art come to shore; get out. If indeed to
another life, there is no want of gods, not even
there. But if to a state without sed^ation, thou
wilt cease to be held by patfls and pleasures,
and to be a slave to the vessel, which is as much
inferior as that which serves it is superior: for
the one is intelligence and deity; the other is
earth and corruption.

4. Do not waste the remainder of thy life in
thoughts about others, when thou dost not re-
fer thy thoughts to some object of common util-
ity. For thou loscst the opportunity of doing

a-4

something else when thou hast such thoughts
as these. What is such a person doing, and why,
and what is he saying, and what is he thinking
of, and what is he contriving, and whatever
else of the kind makes us wander away from
the observation of our own ruling power. We
ought then to check in the series of our thoughts
everything that is without a purpose and use-
less, but most of all the over-curious feeling and
the malignant; and a man should use himself
to think of those things only about which if
one should suddenly ask. What hast thou now
in thy thoughts? With perfect openness tliou
mightest, immediately answer. This or That;
so that from thy words it should be plain that
everything in thee is simple and benevolent,
and such as befits a social animal, and one
that cares not for thoughts about pleasure or
sensual enjoyments at all, nor has any rivalry
or envy and suspicion, or anything else for
which thou wouldst blush if thou shouldst say
that thou hadst it in thy mind. For the man
who is such and no longer delays being among
the number of the best, is like a priest and min-
ister of the gods, using too the deity which is
planted within him, which makes the man un-
contaminated by pleasure, unharmed by any
pain, untouched by any^nsult, feeling no
wrong, a fighter in the noblest fight, one who
cannot be overpowered by any passion, dyed
deep with justice, accepting with all his soul
everything which happens and is assigned to
him as his portion; and not often, nor yet with-
out great necessity and for the general interest,
imagining what another says, or docs, or thinks.
For it is only what belongs to himself that he
makes the matter for his activity; and he con-
stantly thinks of that which is allotted to him-
self out of the sum total of things, and he
makes his own acts fair, and he is persuaded
that his own portion is goodl For the lot which
is assigned to each man is carried along with
him and carries him along ^vith it. And he re-
members also that every rational animal is his
kinsman, and that to care for all men is accord-
ing to man's nature; and a man should hold on
to the opinion not of all, but of those only who
confessedly live according to nature. But as to
those who live not so, he always bears in mind
what kind of men they arc both at home and
from home, both by night and by day, and what

MARCUS AUREUUS

^10 MEDITATIONS, BOOK III 261

they are, and with what men they live an im-
pure life. Accordingly, he does not value at all
the praise which comes from such men, since
they are not even satisfied with themselves.

5. Labour not unwillingly, nor without re-
gard to the common interest, nor without due
consideration, nor with distraction; nor let
studied ornament set off thy thoughts, and be
not either a man of many words, or busy about
too many things. And further, let the deity
which is in thee be the guardian of a living be-
ing, manly and of ripe age, and engaged in
matter political, and a Roman, and a ruler,
who has taken his post like a man waiting for
the signal which summons him from life, and
ready to go, having need neither of oath nor of
any man's testimony. Be cheerful also, and
seek not external help nor the tranquillity
which others give. A man then must stand
erect, not be kept erect by others.

6. If thou hndest in human life anything
better than justice, truth, temperance, fortitude,
and, in a word, anything better than thy own
mind's self-satisfaction in the things which it
enables thee to do according to right reason,
and in the condition that is assigned to thee
without thy own choice; if, I say, thou seest
anything better than this, turn to it with all thy
soul, and enjoy that which thou hast found to
be the best. But if nothing appears to be better
than the deity which is planted in thee, which
has subjected to itself all thy appetites, and care-
fully examines all the impressions, and, as Soc-
rates said, has detached itself from the persua-
sions of sense, and has submitted itself to the
gods, and cares for mankind; if thou findcst
everything else smaller and of less value than
this, give place to nothing else, for if thou dost
once diverge and incline to it, thou wilt no
longer without distraction be able to give the
preference to that good thing which is thy
proper possession and thy own; for it is not
right that anything of any other kind, such as
praise from the many, or power, or enjoyment
of pleasure, should come into competition with
that which is rationally and politically or prac-
tically good. All these things, even though they
may seem to adapt themselves to the better
things in a small degree, obtain the superiority
all at once, and carry us away. But do thou, I
say, simply and freely choose the better, and

hold to it. — But that which is useful is the
better. — ^Well then, if it is useful to thee as
a rational being, keep to it; but if it is only
useful to thee as an animal, say so, and main-
tain thy judgement without arrogance: only
take care that thou makest the inquiry by a
sure method.

7. Never value anything as profitable to thy-
self which shall compel thee to break thy prom-
ise, to lose thy self-respect, to hate any man, to
suspect, to curse, to act the hypocrite, to desire
anything which needs walls and curtains: for
he who has preferred to everything else his own
intelligence and daemon and the worship of
its excellence, acts no tragic part, does not
groan, will not need either solitude or much
company; and, what is chief of all, he will live
without either pursuing or flying from death;
but whether for a longer or a shorter time he
shall have the soul inclosed in the body, he
cares not at all: for even if he must depart im-
mediately, he will go as readily as if he were
going to do anything else which can be done
with decency and order; taking care of this
only all through life, that his thoughts turn
not away from anything which belongs to an
intelligent animal and a member of a civil
community.

8. In the mind of one who is chastened and
purified thou wilt find no corrupt matter, nor
impurity, nor any sore skinned over. Nor is his
life incomplete when fate overtakes him, as
one may say of an actor who leaves the stage
before ending and finishing the play. Besides,
there is in him nothing servile, nor affected,
nor loo closely bound to other things, nor yet
detached from other things, nothing worthy of
blame, nothing which seeks a hiding-place.

9. Reverence the faculty which produces opin-
ion. On this faculty it entirely depends whether
there shall exist in thy ruling part any opin-
ion inconsistent with nature and the consti-
tution of the rational animal. And this faculty
promises freedom from hasty judgement, and
friendship towards men, and obedience to the
gods.

10. Throwing away then all things, hold to
these only which are fewj;;md besides bear in
mind that every man lives only this present
time, which is an indivisible point, and that all
the rest of his life is either past or it is uncer-

262 MARCUS AUREUUS 10-16

tain. Short then is the time which every man
lives, and small the nook of the earth where he
lives; and short too the longest posthumous
fame, and even this only continued by a suc-
cession of poor human beings, who will very
soon die, and who know not even themselves,
much less him who died long ago.

11. To the aids which have been mentioned
let this one still be added: — Make for thyself a
definition or description of the thing which is
presented to thee, so as to sec distinctly what
kind of a thing it is in its substance, in its nu-
dity, in its complete entirety, and tell thyself its
proper name, and the names of the things of
which it has been compounded, and into which
it will be resolved. For nothing is so produc-
tive of elevation of mind as to be able to exam-
ine methodically and truly every object which
is presented to thee in life, and always to look
at things so as to see at the same time what
kind of universe this is, and what kind of use
everything performs in it, and what value
everything has with reference to the whole, and
what with reference to man, who is a citizen of
the highest city, of which all other cities arc
like families; what each thing is, and of what
it is composed, and how long it is the nature
of this thing to endure which now makes an
impression on me, and what virtue I have need
of with respect to it, such as gentleness, manli-
ness, truth, fidelity, simplicity, contentment,
and the rest. Wherefore, on every occasion a
man should say: this comes from God; and this
is according to the apportionment and spin-
ning of the thread of destiny, and such-like co-
incidence and chance; and this is from one of
the same stock, and a kinsman and partner,
one w'ho knows not however what is according
to his nature. But 1 know; for this reason
I behave towards him according to the nat-
ural law of fellowship with benevolence and
justice. At the same time however in things
indifferent I attempt to ascertain the value
of each.

12. If thou workest at that which is before
thee, following right reason seriously, vigor-
ously, calmly, without allowing anything else
to distract thee, but keeping thy divine part
pure, as if thou shouldst be bound to give it
back immediately; if thou boldest to this, ex-
pecting nothing, fearing nothing, but satisfied

with thy present activity according to nature,
and with heroic truth in every word and sound
which thou utterest, thou wilt live happy. And
there is no man who is able to prevent this.

13. As physicians have always their instru-
ments and knives ready for cases which sud-
denly require their skill, so do thou have prin-
ciples ready for the understanding of things
divine and human, and for doing everything,
even the smallest, with a recollection of the
bond w'hich unites the divine and human to
one another. For neither wilt thou do anything
well which pertains to man without at the
same time having a reference to things divine;
nor the contrary.

14. No longer wander at hazard; for neither
wilt thou read thy own memoirs, nor the acts
of the ancient Romans and Hellenes, and
the selections from books which thou wast
reserving for thy old age. Hasten then to the
end which thou hast before thee, and throw-
ing away idle hopes, come to thy own aid, if
thou carcst at all for thyself, wdiilc it is in thy
pow'er.

15. They know not how many things are sig-
nified by the words stealing, sowing, buying,
keeping quiet, seeing what ought to be done;
for this is not effected by 4J1C eyes, but by an-
other kind of vision.

16. Body, soul, intelligence: to the body be-
long sensations, to the soul apjx:tilcs, to the in-
telligence principles. To receive the impres-
sions of forms by means of appearances be-
longs even to animals; to be pulled by the
strings of desire belongs both to wild beasts
and to men who have made themselves into
women, and to a Phalaris and a Nero: and to
have the intelligence that guides to the things
which appear suitable belongs also to those
who do not believe in the gods, and who betray
their country, and do their impure deeds when
they have shut the doors. If then everything
else is common to all that I have mentioned,
there remains that which is peculiar to the
good man, to he pleased and content with what
happens, and with the thread which is spun for
him; and not to defile the divinity which is
planted in his breast, nor disturb it by a crowd
of images, but to preserve it tranquil, follow-
ing it obediently as a god, neither saying any-
thing contrary to the truth, nor doing any-

/-J

thing contrary to justice. And if all men refuse
to believe that he lives a simple, modest, and
contented life, he is neither angry with any of
them, nor docs he deviate from the way which

263

leads to the end of life, to which a man ought
to come pure, tranquil, ready to depart, and
without any compulsion perfectly reconciled
to his lot.

MEDITATIONS, BOOK IV

BOOK FOUR

That which rules within, when it is according
to nature, is so affected with respect to the
events which happen, that it always easily
adapts itself to that which is possible and is
presented to it. For it requires no definite ma-
terial, but it moves towards its purpose, under
certain conditions however; and it makes a
material for itself out of that which opposes it,
as fire lays hold of what falls into it, by which
a small light would have been extinguished:
but when the fire is strong, it soon appropri-
ates to itself the matter which is heaped on it,
and consumes it, and rises higher by means of
this very material.

2. Let no act be done without a purpose, nor
otherwise than according to the perfect prin-
ciples of art.

3. Men seek retreats for themselves, houses
in the country, sea-shores, and mountains; and
thou too art wont to desire such things very
much. But this is altogether a mark of the
most common sort of men, for it is in thy
power whenever thou shalt choose to retire
into thyself. For nowhere cither with more
quiet or more freedom from trouble does a
man retire than into his own soul, particularly
when he has within him such thoughts that
by looking into them he is immediately in per-
fect tranquillity; and 1 affirm that tranquillity
is nothing else than the good ordering of the
mind. Constantly then give to thyself this re-
treat, and renew thyself; and let thy principles
be brief and fundamental, which, as soon as
thou shalt recur to them, will be sufficient to
cleanse the soul completely, and to send thee
back free from all discontent with the things
to which thou returncst. For with what art
thou discontented? With the badness of men?
Recall to thy mind this conclusion, that ra-
tional animals exist for one another, and that
to endure is a part of justice, and that men do
wrong involuntarily; and consider how many

already, after mutual enmity, suspicion,
hatred, and fighting, have been stretched dead,
reduced to ashes; and be quiet at last. — But
perhaps thou art dissatisfied with that which
is assigned to thee out of the universe. — Recall
to thy recollection this alternative; cither there
is providence or atoms, fortuitous concurrence
of things; or remember the arguments by
which it has been proved that the world is a
kind of political community, and be quiet at
last. — But perhaps corporeal things will still
fasten upon thee. — Consider then further that
the mind mingles not with the breath, whether
moving gently or violently, when it has once
drawn itself apart and discovered its own
power, and think also of all that thou hast
heard and assented to about pain and pleasure,
and be quiet at last. — But perhaps the desire
of the thing called fame will torment thee. —
Sec how soon everything is forgotten, and
look at the chaos of infinite time on each side
of the present, and the emptiness of applause,
and the changeablcncss and want of judge-
ment in those w^ho pretend to give praise, and
the narrowness of the space within which it is
circumscribed, and be quiet at last. For the
whole earth is a point, and how small a nook
in it is this thy dwelling, and how few are
there in it, and w^hat kind of people arc they
who will praise thee.

This then remains: Remember to retire into
this little territory of thy own, and above all
do not distract or strain thyself, but be free,
and look at things as a man, as a human being,
as a citizen, as a mortal. But among the things
readiest to thy hand to which thou shalt turn,
let there be these, which arc two. One is that
things do not touch the soul, for they are ex-
ternal and remain immov^lc; but our pertur-
bations come only from the opinion which is
within. The other is that all these things,
which thou seest, change immediately and will

2fi4 MARCUS AUREUUS 3^18

no longer be; and constantly bear in mind how
many of these changes thou hast already wit-
nessed. The universe is transformation: life is
opinion.

4. If our intellectual part is common, the
reason also, in respect of which we are rational
beings, is common: if this is so, common also
is the reason which commands us what to do,
and what not to do; if this is so, there is a
common law also; if this is so, we are fellow-
citizens; if this is so, we arc members of some
political community; if this is so, the world is
in a manner a state. For of what other com-
mon political community will any one say that
the whole human race are members? And
from thence, from this common political com-
munity comes also our very intellectual faculty
and reasoning faculty and our capacity for
law; or whence do they come? For as my
earthly part is a portion given to me from cer-
tain earth, and that which is watery from an-
other element, and that which is hot and Eery
from some peculiar source (for nothing comes
out of that which is nothing, as nothing also
returns to non-existence), so also the intellec-
tual part comes from some source.

5 . Death is such as generation is, a mystery
of nature; a composition out of the same ele-
ments, and a decomposition into the same; and
altogether not a thing of which any' man
should be ashamed, for it is not contrary to the
nature of a reasonable animal, and not con-
trary to the reason of our constitution.

6. It is natural that these things should be
done by such persons, it is a matter of neces-
sity; and if a man will not have it so, he will
not allow the fig-tree to have juice. But by
all means bear this in mind, that within a
very short time both thou and he will be dead;
and soon not even your names will be left
behind.

7. Take away thy opinion, and then there is
taken away the complaint, “I have been
harmed.” Take away the complaint, ”I have
been harmed,” and the harm is taken away.

8. That which does not make a man worse
than he was, abo does not make his life worse,
nor does it harm him cither from without or
from within.

9. The nature of that which is universally
useful has been compelled to do this.

10. Consider that everything which hap-
pens, happens jusdy, and if thou observest
carefully, thou wilt find it to be so. I do not
say only with respect to the continuity of the
series of things, but with respect to what is
just, and as if it were done by one who as-
signs to each thing its value. Observe then as
thou hast begun; and whatever thou doest, do
it in conjunction with this, the being good, and
in the sense in which a man is properly under-
stood to be good. Keep to this in every action.

11. Do not have such an opinion of things as
he has who does thee wrong, or such as he
wishes thee to have, but look at them as they
are in truth.

12. A man should always have these two
rules in readiness; the one, to do o?ily what-
ever the reason of the ruling and legislating
faculty may suggest for the use of men; the
other, to change thy opinion, if there is any
one at hand w^ho sets thee right and moves
thee from any opinion. But this change of
opinion must proceed only from a certain per-
suasion, as of what is just or of common ad-
vantage, and the like, not because it appears
pleasant or brings reputation.

13. Hast thou reason? I have. — ^Why then
dost not thou use it? Fortf this docs its own
work, what else dost thou wish?

14. Thou hast existed as a part. Thou shall
disappear in that which produced thee; but
rather thou shall lie received back into its
seminal principle by tranranumtion.

15. Many grains of frankincense on the same
altar: one falls before, another falls after; but
it makes no difTerence.

16. Within ten days thou wilt seem a god to
those to whom thou art now a beast and an
ape, if thou wilt return to thy principles and
the worship of reason.

17. Do not act as if thou Wert going to live

ten thousand years. Death hangs over thee.
While thou livest, while it Us in thy power,
be good. t

18. How much trouble h^ avoids who does
not look to see what his neighbour says or does
or thinks, but only to what he does himself,
that it may be just and pure; or as Agathon
says, look not round at the depraved morals of
others, but run straight along the line without
deviating from it.

79-26 MEDITATIONS, BOOK IV 265

19. He who has a vehement desire for post- thcless this earth receives them hy reason of

humous fame does not consider that every one
of those who remember him will himself also
die very soon; then again also they who have
succeeded them, until the whole remembrance
shall have been extinguished as it is transmit-
ted through men who foolishly admire and
perish. But suppose that those who will re-
member are even immortal, and that the re-
membrance will be immortal, what then is this
to thee? And I say not what is it to the dead,
but what is it to the living? What is praise ex-
cept indeed so far as it has a certain utility?
For thou now rejectest unseasonably the gift
of nature, clinging to something else . . .

20. Everything which is in any way beauti-
ful is beautiful in itself, and terminates in it-
self, not having praise as part of itself. Neither
worse then nor better is a thing made by being
praised. I aflirm this also of the things which
are called beautiful bv the vulgar, for example,
material things and works of art. That which
is really beautiful has no need of anything;
not more than law, not more than truth, not
more than benevolence or modesty. Which of
these things is beautiful because it is praised,
or spoiled by being blamed? Is such a thing as
an emerald made worse than it was, if it is not
praised? Or gold, ivory, purple, a lyre, a little
knife, a flower, a shrub?

21. If souls continue to exist, how does the
air contain them from eternity? — But how
docs the earth contain the bodies of those who
have been buried from time so remote? For as
here the mutation of these bodies after a cer-
tain continuance, whatever it may be, and their
dissolution make room for other dead bodies;
so the souls which are removed into the air
after subsisting for some time are transmuted
and diffused, and assume a fiery nature by be-
ing received into the seminal intelligence of
the universe, and in this way make room for
the fresh souls which come to dwell there. And
this is the answer which a man might give on
the hypothesis of souls continuing to exist.
But we must not only think of the number of
bodies which are thus buried, but also of the
number of animals which are daily eaten by us
and the other animals. For what a number is
consumed, and thus in a manner buried in the
bodies of those who feed on them! And never-

the changes of these bodies into blood, and the
transformations into the aerial or the fiery ele-
ment.

What is the investigation into the truth in
this matter? The division into that which is
material and that which is the cause of form,
the formal.

22. Do not be whirled about, but in every
movement have respect to justice, and on the
occasion of every impression maintain the fac-
ulty of comprehension or understanding.

23. Everything harmonizes with me, which
is harmonious to thee, O Universe. Nothing
for me is too early nor too late, which is in due
time for thee. Everything is fruit to me which
thy seasons bring, O Nature: from thee arc all
things, in thee are all things, to thee all things
return. The poet says, Dear city of Cecrops;
and wilt not thou say. Dear city of Zeus?

24. Occupy thyself with few things, says the
philosopher, if thou wouldst be tranquil. — But
consider if it would not be better to say, Do
what is necessary, and whatever the reason of
the animal which is naturally social requires,
and as it requires. For this brings not only the
tranquillity which comes from doing well, but
also that which comes from doing few things.
For the greatest part of what we say and do
being unnecessary, if a man takes this away,
he will have more leisure and less uneasiness.
Accordingly on every occasion a man should
ask himself, Is this one of the unnecessary
things? Now a man should take away not only
unnecessary acts, but also, unnecessary
thoughts, for thus superfluous acts will not
follow after.

25. Try how the life of the good man suits
thee, the life of him who is satisfied with his
portion out of the whole, and satisfied with
his own just acts and benevolent disposition.

26. Hast thou seen those things? Look also
at these. Do not disturb thyself. Make thyself
all simplicity. Does any one do wrong? It is to
himself that he does the wrong. Has anything
happened to thee? Well; out of the universe
from the beginning everything which happens
has been apportioned anc^un out to thee. In
a word, thy life is short. Thou must turn to
profit the present by the aid of reason and
justice. Be sober in thy relaxation.

266 MARCUS

27. Either it is a well-arranged universe or
a chaos huddled together, but still a universe.
But can a certain order subsist in thee, and
disorder in the All? And this too when all
things are so separated and diffused and sym-
pathetic.

28. A black character, a womanish char-
acter, a stubborn character, bestial, childish,
animal, stupid, counterfeit, scurrilous, fraudu-
lent, tyrannical.

29. If he is a stranger to the universe who
does not know what is in it, no less is he a
stranger who does not know what is going on
in it. He is a runaway, who flies from social
reason; he is blind, who shuts the eyes of the
understanding; he is poor, who has need of
another, and has not from himself all things
which are useful for life. He is an abscess on
the universe who withdraws and separates
himself from the reason of our common nature
through being displeased with the things
which happen, for the same nature produces
this, and has produced thee too: he is a piece
rent asunder from the state, who tears his own
soul from that of reasonable animals, which is
one.

30. The one is a philosopher without a tunic,
and the other without a book: here is another
half naked: Bread I have not, he says, and I
abide by reason. — And I do not get the hicans
of living out of my learning, and 1 abide by my
reason.

31. Love the art, poor as it may be, which
thou hast learned, and be content with it; and
pass through the rest of life like one who has
intrusted to the gods with his whole soul all
that he has, making thyself neither the tyrant
nor the slave of any man.

32. Consider, for example, the times of Ves-
pasian. Thou wilt see all these things, pxrople
marrying, bringing up children, sick, dying,
warring, feasting, trafficking, cultivating the
ground, flattering, obstinately arrogant, sus-
pecting, plotting, wishing for some to die,
grumbling about the present, loving, heaping
up treasure, desiring counsulship, kingly pow-
er. Well then, that life of these people no
longer exists at all. Again, remove to the times
of Trajan. Again, all is the same. Their life
too is gone. In like manner view also the other
epochs of time and of whole nations, and see

AURELIUS 27-37

how many after great efforts soon fell and
were resolved into the elements. But chiefly
thou shouldst think of those whom thou hast
thyself known distracting themselves about
idle things, neglecting to do what was in ac-
cordance with their proper constitution, and
to hold firmly to this and to be content with it.
And herein it is necessary to remember that
the attention given to everything has its proper
value and proportion. For thus thou wilt not
be dissatisfied, if thou appliest thyself to small-
er matters no further than is fit.

33. The words which were formerly familiar
are now antiquated: so also the names of those
who were famed of old, are now in a manner
antiquated, Camillus, Caeso, Volcsus, l^on-
natus, and a little after also Scipio and Cato,
then Augustus, then also Hadrian and An-
toninus. For all things soon pass away ami be-
come a mere tale, and complete oblivion soon
buries them. And I say this of those who have
shone in a wondrous w'ay. For the rest, as
soon as they have breathed out their breath,
they are gone, and no man speaks of them.
And, to conclude the matter, what is even an
eternal remembrance? A mere nothing. What
then is that about which we ought to employ
our serious pains? This one thing, thoughts
Just, and acts social, and words which never
lie, and a disposition which gladly accepts
all that happens, as necessary, as usual, as flow-
ing from a principle and source of the same
kind.

34. Willingly give thyself up to Clotho, one
of the I'ales, allowing her to spin thy thread
into whatever things she pleases.

35. Everything is only for a day, both that
which remembers and that which is remem-
bered.

36. Observe constantly that all things take
place by change, and accustom thyself to con-
sider that the nature of the Universe loves
nothing so much as to change the things which
are and to make new things like them. For
everything that exists is in a manner the seed
of that which will be. But thou art thinking
only of seeds which are cast into the earth or
into a womb: but this is a very vulgar notion.

37. Thou wilt soon die, and thou art not yet
simple, not free from i^rturbalions, nor with-
out suspicion of being hurt by external things,

37-4S

nor kindly disposed towards all; nor dost thou
yet place wisdom only in acting justly.

38. Examine men’s ruling principles, even
those of the wise, what kind of things they
avoid, and what kind they pursue.

39. What is evil to thee does not subsist in
the ruling principle of another; nor yet in any
turning and mutation of thy corporeal cover-
ing. Where is it then? It is in that part of thee
in which subsists the power of forming opin-
ions about evils. Let this power then not form
such opinions, and all is well. And if that
which is nearest to it, the poor body, is cut,
burnt, filled wdth matter and rottenness, never-
theless let the part which forms opinions about
these things be quiet, that is, let it judge that
nothing is either bad or good which can hap-
pen equally to the bad man and the good. For
that which hap|xns equally to him who lives
contrary to nature and to him who lives ac-
cording to nature- is neither according to
nature nor contrary to nature.

40. Constantly regard the universe as one liv-
ing being, having one substance and one soul;
and observe how all things have reference to
one perception, the perception of this one liv-
ing being; and how all things act with one
movement; and how all things arc the co-
operating causes of all things which exist; ob-
serve loo the continuous spinning of the thread
and the contexture of the web.

41. Thou art a little soul bearing about a
corpse, as Epictetus used to say.

42. It is no evil for things to undergo change,
and no good for thi4)gs to subsist in conse-
quence of change.

43. Time is like a river made up of the
events which happen, and a violent stream; for
as soon as a thing has been seen, it is carried
away, and another comes in its place, and this
will be carried away too.

44. Everything which happens is as familiar
and well known as the rose in spring and the
fruit in summer; for such is disease, and death,
and calumny, and treachery, and whatever else
delights fools or vexes them.

45. In the scries of things those which follow
arc always aptly fitted to those which have
gone before; for this series is not like a mere
enumeration of disjointed things, which has
only a necessary sequence, but it is a rational

267

connection: and as all existing things arc ar-
ranged together harmoniously, so the things
which come into existence exhibit no mere suc-
cession, but a certain wonderful relationship.

46. Always remember the saying of Heracli-
tus, that the death of earth is to become water,
and the death of water is to become air, and
the death of air is to become fire, and re-
versely. And think too of him who forgets
whither the way leads, and that men quarrel
with that with which they are most constantly
in communion, the reason which governs the
universe; and the things which they daily meet
with seem to them strange: and consider that
we ought not to act and speak as if we were
asleep, for even in sleep we seem to act and
speak; and that we ought not, like children
who learn from their parents, simply to act
and speak as we have been taught.

47. If any god told thee that thou shalt die
to-morrow, or certainly on the day after to-
morrow, thou would st not care much whether
it was on the third day or on the morrow, un-
less thou wast in the highest degree mean-
spirited — for how small is the difference? — so
think it no great thing to die after as many
years as thou canst name rather than to-mor-
row.

48. Think continually how many physicians
are dead after often contracting their eyebrows
over the sick; and how many astrologers after
predicting with great pretensions the deaths
of others; and how many philosophers after
endless discourses on death or immortality;
how many heroes after killing thousands; and
how many tyrants who have used their power
over men's lives with terrible insolence as if
they were immortal; and how many cities are
entirely dead, so to speak, Helicc and Pompeii
and Herculaneum, and others innumerable.
Add to the reckoning all whom thou hast
known, one after another. One man after
burying another has been laid out dead, and
another buries him: and all this in a short
time. To conclude, always obser\'e how ephem-
eral and worthless human things are, and
what was yesterday a little mucus to-morrow
will be a mummy or ashej^ass then through
this little space of time conformably to nature,
and end thy journey in content, just as an
olive falls off when it is ripe, blessing nature

MEDITATIONS. BOOK IV

a68 MARCUS AURELIUS 48-51

who produced it» and thanking the tree on
which it grew.

49. Be like the promontory against which
the waves continually break, but it stands firm
and tames the fury of the water around it.

Unhappy am I, because this has happened
to me. — Not so, but happy am I, though this
has happened to me, because I continue free
from pain, neither crushed by the present nor
fearing the future. For such a thing as this
might have happened to every man; but every
man would not have continued free from pain
on such an occasion. Why then is that rather
a misfortune than this a good fortune? And
dost thou in all cases call that a man’s misfor-
tune, which is not a deviation from man’s
nature? And does a thing seem to thee to be a
deviation from man’s nature, when it is not
contrary to the will of man’s nature? Well,
thou knowest the w'ill of nature. Will then
this which has happened prevent thee from be-
ing just, magnanimous, temperate, prudent,
secure against inconsiderate opinions and false-
hood; will it prevent thee from having mod-
esty, freedom, and everything else, by the
presence of which man’s nature obtains all that
is its own? Remember too on every occasion
which leads thee to vexation to apply this prin-

BOOK

In the morning when thou risest unwillingly,
let this thought be present — I am rising to the
work of a human being. Why then am I dis-
satisfied if I am going to do the things for
which 1 exist and for which I was brought
into the world? Or have 1 been made for this,
to lie in the bed-clothes and keep myself
warm? — But this is more pleasant. — Dost thou
exist then to take thy pleasure, and not at all
for action or exertion? Dost thou not see the
litde plants, the little birds, the ants, the
spiders, the bees working together to put in
order their several parts of the universe? And
art thou unwilling to do the work of a human
being, and dost thou not make haste to do that
which is according to thy nature? — But it is
necessary to take rest also, — It is necessary:
however nature has fixed bounds to this too:

ciple: not that thi.i is a misfortune, but that
to bear it nobly is good fortune.

50. It is a vulgar, but still a useful help to-
wards contempt of death, to pass in review
those who have tenaciously stuck to life. What
more then have they gained than those who
have died early? Certainly they lie in their
tombs somewhere at last, Cadicianus, Fabius,
Julianus, Lepidus, or any one else like them,
who have carried out many to be buried, and
then were carried out themselves. Altogether
the interval is small between birth and death;
and consider with how much trouble, and in
company with what sort of people and in what
a feeble body this interval is laboriously
passed. Do not then consider life a thing of
any value. For look to the immensity of time
behind thee, and to the time which is before
thee, another boundless space. In this infinity
then what is the difference between him who
lives three days and him who lives three gen-
erations?

51. Always run to the short way; and the
short way is the natural: accordingly say and
do everything in conformity with the soundest
reason. For such a purpose frees a man from
trouble, and warfare, and all artifice and
ostentatious display.

FIVE

she has fixed bounds both to eating and drink-
ing, and yet thou goest beyond these bounds,
beyond what is sufficient; yet in thy acts it is
not so, but thou stoppest short of what thou
canst do. So thou lovest not thyself, for if thou
didst, thou wouldst love thy nature and her
will. But those who love their several arts ex-
haust themselves in working at them un-
washed and without food; 'but thou valuest
thy own nature less than thci turner values the
turning art, or the dancer the dancing art, or
the lover of money values his money, or the
vainglorious man his little; glory. And such
men, when they have a violent affection to a
thing, choose neither to eat nor to sleep rather
than to perfert the things which they care for.
But are the acts which concern society more
vile in tliy eyes and less worthy of thy labour?

2-8 MEDITATIONS, BOOK V 269

2. How easy it is to repel and to wipe away another, is ready to set it down to his account

every impression which is troublesome or un-
suitable, and immediately to be in all tran-
quillity.

3. Judge every word and deed which arc ac-
cording to nature to be fit for thee; and be not
diverted by the blame which follows from any
people nor by their words, but if a thing is
good to be done or said, do not consider it un-
worthy of thee. For those persons have their
peculiar leading principle and follow their
peculiar movement; which things do not thou
regard, but go straight on, following thy own
nature and the common nature; and the way
of both is one.

4. 1 go through the tilings which happen ac-
cording to nature until I shall fall and rest,
breathing out my breath into that element out
of which I daily draw it in, and falling upon
that earth out of which my father collected
the seed, and my mother the blood, and my
nurse the milk; out of which during so many
years I have been supplied with food and
drink; which bears me when I tread on it and
abuse it for so many purposes.

5. Thou sayest, Men cannot admire the
sharpness of thy wits. — Be it so: but there are
many other things of which thou canst not say,
I am not formed for them by nature. Show
those qualities then which are altogether in
thy power, sincerity, gravity, endurance of
labour, aversion to pleasure, contentment with
thy portion and with few things, benevolence,
frankness, no love of superfluity, freedom from
trifling magnanimity. Dost thou not sec how
many qualities thou art immediately able to
exhibit, in which there is no excuse of natural
incapacity and unfitness, and yet thou still re-
mainest voluntarily below the mark? Or art
thou compelled through being defectively fur-
nished by nature to murmur, and to be stingy,
and to flatter, and to find fault with thy poor
body, and to try to please men, and to make
great display, and to be so restless in thy mind?
No, by the gods: but thou mightest have been
delivered from these things long ago. Only if
in truth thou canst be charged with being
rather slow and dull of comprehension, thou
must exert thyself about this also, not neglect-
ing it nor yet taking pleasure in thy dulness.

6. One man, when he has done a service to

as a favour conferred. Another is not ready to
do this, but still in his own mind he thinks of
the man as his debtor, and he knows what he
has done. A third in a manner does not even
know what he has done, but he is like a vine
which has produced grapes, and seeks for
nothing more after it has once produced its
proper fruit. As a horse when he has run, a
dog when he has tracked the game, a bee when
it has made the honey, so a man when he has
done a good act, does not call out for others to
come and see, but he goes on to another act,
as a vine goes on to produce again the grapes
in season. — Must a man then be one of these,
who in a manner act thus without observing
it? — Yes. — But this very thing is necessary, the
observation of what a man is doing: for, it may
be said, it is characteristic of the social animal
to perceive that he is working in a social man-
ner, and indeed to wish that his social partner
also should perceive it. — It is true what thou
sayest, but thou dost not rightly understand
what is now said: and for this reason thou wilt
become one of those of whom I spoke before,
for even they are misled by a certain show of
reason. But if thou wilt choose to understand
the meaning of what is said, do not fear that
for this reason thou wilt omit any social act.

7. A prayer of the Athenians: Rain, rain, O
dear Zeus, down on the ploughed fields of the
Athenians and on the plains. — In truth we
ought not to pray at all, or we ought to pray
in this simple and noble fashion.

8. Just as we must understand when it is
said. That Aesculapius prescribed to this man
horsc-cxcrcisc, or bathing in cold water or go-
ing without shoes; so we must understand it
when it is said, That the nature of the universe
prescribed to this man disease or mutilation or
loss or anything else of the kind. For in the
first case Prescribed means something like
this: he prescribed this for this man as a thing
adapted to procure health; and in the second
case it means: That which happens to (or,
suits) every man is fixed in a manner for him
suitably to his destiny. For this is what we
mean when we say that t^gs arc suitable to
us, as the workmen say of squared stones in
walls or the pyramids, that they are suitable,
when they fit them to one another in some

270 MARCUS AURELIUS 8-ii

kind of connexion. For there is altogether one
fitness, harmony. And as the universe is made
up out of all bodies to be such a body as it is, so
out of all existing causes necessity (destiny) is
made up to be such a cause as it is. And even
those who are completely ignorant understand
what I mean, for they say, It (necessity, des-
tiny) brought this to such a person. — This
then was brought and this was precribed to
him. Let us then receive these things, as well
as those which Aesculapius prescribes. Many
as a matter of course even among his prescrip-
tions are disagreeable, but wo accept them in
the hope of health. Let the perfecting and ac-
complishment of the things, which the com-
mon nature judges to be good, be judged by
thee to be of the same kind as thy health. And
so accept everything which happens, even if it
seem disagreeable, because it leads to this, to
the health of the universe and to the prosperity
and felicity of Zeus (the universe). For he
would not have brought on any man what he
has brought, if it were not useful for the whole.
Neither does the nature of anything, whatever
it may be, cause anything which is not suitable
to that which is directed by it. For two reasons
then it is right to be content with that which
happens to thee; the one, because it was done
for thee and prescribed for thee, and in a man-
ner had reference to thee, originally from the
most ancient causes spun with thy destiny;
and the other, because even that which comes
severally to every man is to the {X)wer which
administers the universe a cause of felicity and
perfection, nay even of its very continuance.
For the integrity of the whole is mutilated, if
thou cuttest off anything whatever from the
conjunction and the continuity cither of the
parts or of the causes. And thou dost cut off,
as far as it is in thy power, when thou art dis-
satisfied, and in a manner triest to put any-
thing out of the way.

9. He not disgusted, nor discouraged, nor
dissatisfied, if thou dost not succeed in doing
everything according to right principles; but
when thou hast failed, return back again, and
be content if the greater part of what thou do-
est is consistent with man’s nature, and love
this to which thou rcturnest; and do not return
to philosophy as if she were a master, but act
like those who have sore eyes and apply a bit

of sponge and egg, or as another applies a
plaster, or drenching with water. For thus
thou wilt not fail to obey reason, and thou wilt
repose in it. And remember that philosophy
requires only the things which thy nature re-
quires; but thou wouldst have something else
which is not according to nature. — It may be
objected, Why what is more agreeable than
this which I am doing? — But is not this the
very reason why pleasure deceives us? And
consider if magnanimity, freedom, simplicity,
equanimity, piety, are not more agreeable.
For what is more agreeable than w'isdorn itself,
when thou thinkest of the security and the
happy course of all things which dejXMid on
the faculty of understanding and knowledge?

10. Things are in such a kind of envelop-
ment that they have seemed to philosophers,
not a few nor those common philosophers, al-
together unintelligible; nay even to the Stoics
themselves they seem dilllcult to understand.
And all our assent is changeable; for where is
the man who never changes? Carry thy
thoughts then to the objects themselves, and
consider how short-lived they are and worth-
less, and that they may be in the possession of
a filthy wretch or a whore or a robber. Then
turn to the morals of thos?“who live with thee,
and it is hardly possible to endure even the
most agreeable of them, to say nothing of a
man being hardly able to endure himself. In
such darkness then and dirt and in so constant
a flux both of substance and of time, and of
motion and of things moved, what there is
worth being highly prized or even an object of
serious pursuit, I cannot imagine. But on the
contrary it is a man’s duty to comfort himself,
and to wait for the natural dissolution and not
to be vexed at the delay, but to rest in these
principles only: the one, that nothing will hap-
pen to me which is not conformable to the
nature of the universe; and the other, that it is
in my power never to act contrary to my god
and daemon: for there is fio man who will
com})el me to this.

11. About what am I now employing my
own soul? On every occasion I must ask my-
self this question, and inquire, what have I
now in this part of me which they call the rul-
ing principle? And whose soul have I now?
That of a child, or of a young man, or of a

//-/S

feeble woman, or of a tyrant, or of a domestic
animal, or of a wild beast?

12. What kind of things those are which ap-
pear good to the many, we may learn even
from this. For if any man should conceive cer-
tain things as being really good, such as pru-
dence, temperance, justice, fortitude, he would
not after having first conceived these endure to
listen to anything which should not be in har-
mony with what is really good. But if a man
has first conceived as good the things which
appear to the many to be good, he will listen
and readily receive as very applicable that
which was said by the comic writer. Thus
even the many perceive the difference. For
were it not so, this saying would not offend
and would not be rejected in the first case,
while we receive it when it is said of wealth,
and of the means which further luxury and
fame, as said fitly and wittily. Go on then and
ask if we should * '»hic and think those things
to be good, to which after their first concep-
tion in the mind the words of the comic writer
might he aptly applied — that he who has them,
through pure abundance has not a place to
ease himself in.^

13. I am composed of the formal and the
material; and neither of them will j>erish into
non-cxisiencc, as neither of them came into
existence out of non-cxistcncc. F.very part of
me then will be reduced by change into some
part of the universe, and that again will
change into another part of the universe, and
so on for ever. And by consequence of such a
change I too exist, and those who begot me,
and so on for ever in the other direction. For
nothing hinders us from saying so, even if the
universe is administered according to definite
periods of revolution.

14. Reason and the reasoning art (philoso-
phy) arc powers which arc sufficient for them-
selves and for their own works. They move
then from a first principle which is their own,
and they make their way to the end which is
proposed to them; and this is the reason why
such acts are named catorthosds or right acts,
which word signifies that they proceed by the
right road.

15. None of these things ought to be called
a man’s, which do not belong to a man, as

^Meoander.

271

man. They are not required of a man, nor docs
man’s nature promise them, nor are they the
means of man’s nature attaining its end.
Neither then docs the end of man lie in these
things, nor yet that which aids to the accom-
plishment of this end, and that which aids to-
wards this end is that which is good. Besides,
if any of these things did belong to man, it
would not be right for a man to despise them
and to set himself against them; nor would a
man be worthy of praise who showed that he
did not want these things, nor would he who
stinted himself in any of them be good, if in-
deed these things were good. But now the
more of these things a man deprives himself
of, or of other things like them, or even when
he is deprived of any of them, the more pa-
tiently he endures the loss, just in the same de-
gree he is a better man.

16. Such as arc thy habitual thoughts, such
also will be the character of thy mind; for the
soul is dyed by the thoughts. Dye it then with
a continuous series of such thoughts as these:
for instance, that where a man can live, there
he can also live well. But he must live in a
palace; — well then, he can also live well in a
palace. And again, consider that for whatever
purpose each thing has been constituted, for
this it has been constituted, and towards this
it is carried; and its end is in that towards
which it is carried; and where the end is, there
also is the advantage and the good of each
thing. Now the good for the reasonable animal
is society; for that we are made for society has
been shown above.^ Is it not plain that the infe-
rior exist for the sake of the superior? But the
things which have life are superior to those
which have not life, and of those which have
life the superior are those which have reason.

17. To seek what is impossible is madness:
and it is impossible that the bad should not do
something of this kind.

18. Nothing hapj>ens to any man which he
is not formed by nature to bear. The same
things happen to another, and cither because
he docs not see that they have happened or be-
cause he w’ould show a great spirit he is firm
and remains unharmed. It^a shame then that
ignorance and conceit should be stronger than
wisdom.

* Cf. H(x)k IT, section x.

MEDITATIONS, BOOK V

272

ip. Things themselves touch not the soul,
not in the least degree; nor have they admis-
sion to the soul, nor can they turn or move the
soul: but the soul turns and moves itself alone,
and whatever judgements it may think proper
to make, such it makes for itself the things
which present themselves to it.

20. In one respect man is the nearest thing
to me, so far as I must do good to men and en-
dure them. But so far as some men make
themselves obstacles to my proper acts, man
becomes to me one of the things which are in-
different, no less than the sun or wind or a
wild beast. Now it is true that these may im-
pede my action, but they are no impediments
to my affects and disposition, which have the
power of acting conditionally and changing:
for the mind converts and changes every hin-
drance to its activity into an aid; and so that
which is a hindrance is made a furtherance to
an act; and that which is an obstacle on the
road helps us on this road.

21. Reverence that which is best in the uni-
verse; and this is that which makes use of all
things and directs all things. And in like man-
ner also reverence that which is best in thyself;
and this is of the same kind as that. For in
thyself also, that which makes use of every-
thing else, is this, and thy life is directed by
this.

22. That which does no harm to the state,
does no harm to the citizen. In the case of
every appearance of harm apply this rule: if
the state is not harmed by this, neither am I
harmed. But if the state is harmed, thou must
not be angry with him who does harm to the
state. Show him where his error is.

23. Often think of the rapidity with which
things pass by and disappear, both the things
which arc and the things which arc pro-
duced. For substance is like a river in a con-
tinual flow, and the activities of things are in
constant change, and the causes yvork in in-
finite varieties; and there is hardly anything
which stands still. And consider this which is
near to thee, this boundless abyss of the past
and of the future in which all things disap-
pear. How then is he not a fool who is puffed
up with such things or plagued about them
and makes himself miserable.^ for they vex
him only for a time, and a short time.

79-29

24. Think of the universal substance, of
which thou hast a very small portion; and of
universal time, of which a short and indivisible
interval has been assigned to thee; and of that
which is fixed by destiny, and how small a part
of it thou art.

25. Docs another do me wrong? Let him
look to it. He has his own disposition, his own
activity. I now have what the universal nature
wills me to have; and I do what my nature
now wills me to do.

26. Let the part of thy soul which leads and
governs be undisturbed by the movements in
the flesh, whether of pleasure or of pain; and
let it not unite with them, but let it circum-
scribe itself and limit those affects to their
parts. But when these affects rise up to the
mind by virtue of that other sympathy that
naturally exists in a body which is all one, then
thou must not strive to resist the sensation, for
it is natural: but let not the ruling part of it-
self add to the sensation the opinion that it is
either good or bad.

27. Live with the gods. And he does live
with the gods who constantly shows to them
that his own soul is satisfied with that which
is assigned to him, and that it docs all that the
daemon wishes, which Zeus hath given to
every man for his guardrsn and guide, a por-
tion of himself. And this is every man’s under-
standing and reason.

28. Art thou angry with him whose arm-
pits stink? Art thou angry with him whose
mouth smells foul? What good will this dan-
ger do thee? He has such a mouth, he has
such arm-pits: it is necessary that such an
emanation must come from such things — but
the man has reason, it will be said, and he is
able, if he takes pain, to discover wherein he
offends — I wish thee well of thy discovery.
Well then, and thou hast reason: by thy ra-
tional faculty stir up his rational faculty; show
him his error, admonish him. For if he listens,
thou wilt cure him, and tl^crc is no need of
anger. Neither tragic actor nor whore . • .

29. As thou intendest to live when thou art
gone out, ... so it is in thy power to live here.
But if men do not permit thee, then get away
out of life, yet so as if thou wert suffering no
harm. The house is smoky, and I quit it. Why
dost thou think that this is any trouble? But

MARCUS AUREUUS

SO long as nothing of the kind drives me out,
I remain, am free, and no man shall hinder
me from doing what I choose; and I choose to
do what is according to the nature of the ra-
tional and social animal.

30. The intelligence of the universe is social.
Accordingly it has made the inferior things for
the sake of the superior, and it has fitted the
superior to one another. Thou seest how it has
subordinated, co-ordinated and assigned to
everything its proper portion, and has brought
together into concord with one another the
things which are the best.

31. How hast thbu behaved hitherto to the
gods, thy parents, brethren, children, teachers,
to those who looked after thy infancy, to thy
friends, kinsfolk, to thy slaves.? Consider if
thou hast hitherto behaved to all in such a way
that this may be said of thee:

Never has wronged a man in deed or word}

And call to recollection both how many things
thou hast p^iscl through, and how many
things thou hast been able to endure: and that
the history of thy life is now complete and thy
service is ended: and how many beautiful
things thou hast seen: and how many pleas-
ures and pains thou hast despised; and how
many things called honourable thou hast
spurned; and to how many ill-minded folks
thou hast shown a kind disposition.

32. Why do unskilled and ignorant souls
disturb him who has skill and knowledge?
What soul then has skill and knowledge? That
which knows beginning and end, and knows
the reason which pervades all substance and
through all time by fixed periods (revolu-
tions) administers the universe.

33. Soon, very soon, thou wilt Ik ashes, or a
skeleton, and cither a name or not even a
name; but name is sound and echo. And the
things which are much valued in life arc emp-
ty and rotten and trifling, and like little dogs
biting one another, and little children quar-
relling, laughing, and then straightway weep-
ing. But fidelity and modesty and justice and
truth arc fled

Up to Olympus from the wide-spread earth}

* Homer, Odyssey^ iv. 690.

^Hesicxl, Worlds and Days^ 197.

273

What then is there which still detains thee
here? If the objects of sense arc easily changed
and never stand still, and the organs of per-
ception arc dull and easily receive false impres-
sions; and the poor soul itself is an exhalation
from blood. But to have good repute amidst
such a world as this is an empty thing. Why
then dost thou not wait in tranquillity for thy
end, whether it is extinction or removal to an-
other state? And until that time comes, what
is sufficient? Why, what else than to venerate
the gods and bless them, and to do good to
men, and to practise tolerance and self-re-
straint; but as to everything which is beyond
the limits of the poor flesh and breath, to re-
member that this is neither thine nor in thy
power.

34. Thou canst pass thy life in an equable
flow of happiness, if thou canst go by the right
way, and think and act in the right way.
These two things arc common both to the soul
of God and to the soul of man, and to the soul
of every rational being, not to be hindered by
another; and to hold good to consist in the dis-
position to justice and the practice of it, and
in this to let thy desire find its termination.

35. If this is neither my own badness, nor
an effect of my own badness, and the common
weal is not injured, why am I troubled about
it? And what is the harm to the common
weal ?

36. Do not be carried along inconsiderately
by the appearance of things, but give help to
all according to thy ability and their fitness;
and if they should have sustained loss in mat-
ters which arc indifferent, do not imagine this
to be a damage. For it is a bad habit. But as
the old man, when he went away, asked back
his foster-child’s top, remembering that it was
a top, so do thou in this case also.

When thou art calling out on the Rostra,
hast thou forgotten, man, what these things
arc? — Yes; but they are objects of great con-
cern to these people — wilt thou too then be
made a fool for these things? — I was once a
fortunate man, but I lost it, I know not how,
— But fortunate means that a man has assigned
to himself a good fortune: and a good fortune
is good disposition of the spul, good emotions,
good actions. "

MEDITATIONS, BOOK V

MARCUS AURELIUS

1-14

• BOOK SIX •

The substance of the universe is obedient and
compliant; and the reason which governs it
has in itself no cause for doing evil, for it has
no malice, nor does it do evil to anything,
nor is anything harmed by it. But all things
are made and perfected according to this rea-
son.

2. Let it make no difference to thee whether
thou art cold or warm, if thou art doing thy
duty; and whether thou art drowsy or satisfied
with sleep; and whether ill-spoken of or
praised; and whether dying or doing some-
thing else. For it is one of the acts of life, this
act by which we die: it is sufficient then in tliis
act also to do well what we have in hand.

3. Look within. Let neither the peculiar
quality of anything nor its value escape thee.

4. All existing things soon change, and they
will either be reduced to vapour, if indeed all
substance is one, or they will be dispersed.

5. The reason which governs knows what
its own disposition is, and what it does, and on
what material it works.

6. The best way of avenging thyself is not to
become like the wrong doer,

7. Take pleasure in one thing and rest in it,
in passing from one social act to another social
act, thinking of God.

8. The ruling principle is that which rouses
and turns itself, and while it makes itself such
as it is and such as it wills to be, it also makes
everything which happens appear to itself to
be such as it wills.

9. In conformity to the nature of the uni-
verse every single thing is accomplished, for
certainly it is not in conformity to any other
nature that each thing is accomplished, either
a nature which externally comprehends this,
or a nature which is comprehended within this
nature, or a nature external and independent
of this.

10. The universe is cither a confusion, and
a mutual involution of things, and a disper-
sion; or it is unity and order and providence.
If then it is the former, why do I desire to
tarry in a fortuitous combination of things and

such a disorder? And why do I care about any-
thing else than how 1 shall at last become
earth? And why am I disturbed, for the dis-
persion of my elements will happen whatever
I do. But if the other supposition is true, I
venerate, and I am firm, and I trust in him
who governs.

11. When thou hast been compelled by cir-
cumstances to be disturbed in a manner,
quickly return to thyself and do not continue
out of tune longer than the compulsion lasts;
for thou wilt have- more mastery over the har-
mony by continually recurring to it.

12. If thou hadst a step-mother and a mother
at the same time, thou wouldst lie dutiful to
thy step-mother, but still thou wouldst con-
stantly return to thy mother. Let the court
and philosophy now be to thee step-mother
and mother: return to philosophy frequently
and repose in her, through whom what thou
mectest with in the court appears to thee tol-
erable, and thou appearest tolerable in the
court.

13. When we have meat before us and such
eatables, we receive the impression, that this is
the dead body of a fish, and this is the dead
body of a bird or of a pig; and again, that this
Falernian is only a little grape juice, and this
purple robe some sheep s wool dyed with the
blood of a shell-fish: such then arc these im-
pressions, and they reach the things themselves
and penetrate them, and so we sec what kind
of things they are. Just in the same way ought
we to act all through life, and where there arc
things which appear most worthy of our ap-
probation, wc ought to lay them bare and look
at their w'orthlcssness and strip them of all the
words by which they are exalted. For outward
show is a wonderful perverter of the reason,
and when thou art most sure that thou art
employed about things worth thy pains, it is
then that it cheats thee most. Consider then
what Crates says of Xcnocrates himself.

14. Most of the things which the multitude
admire are referred to objects of the most gen-
eral kind, those which are held together by co-

J 4 -I 9 MEDITATIONS, BOOK VI 275

hesion or natural organization, such as stones,
wood, fig-trees, vines, olives. But those which
are admired by men who arc a little more rea-
sonable are referred to the things which arc
held together by a living principle, as flocks,
herds. Those which arc admired by men who
arc still more instructed arc the things which
arc held together by a rational soul, not how-
ever a universal soul, but rational so far as it
is a soul skilled in some art, or expert in some
other way, or simply rational so far as it pos-
sesses a number of slaves. But he who values
a rational soul, a soul universal and fitted for
political life, regards nothing else except this;
and above all things he keeps his soul in a
condition and in an activity conformable to
reason and social life, and he co-operates to
this end with those who are of the same kind
as himself.

15. Some things are hurrying into existence,
and others are hurrying out of it; and of that
which is coming into existence part is already
extinguished. Motions and changes arc con-
tinually renewing the world, just as the unin-
terrupted course of time is always renewing
the infinite duration of ages. In this flowing
stream then, on which there is no abiding,
what is there of the things which hurry by on
which a man would set a high price? It would
be just as if a man should fall in love with one
of the sparrows which fly by, but it has al-
ready passed out of sight. Something of this
kind is the very life of every man, like the
exhalation of the blood and the respiration of
the air. For such as it is to have once drawn in
the air and to have given it back, which we do
every moment, just the same is it with the
whole respiratory power, which thou didst re-
ceive at thy birth yesterday and the day before,
to give it back to the element from which thou
didst first draw it.

16. Neither is transpiration, as in plants, a
thing to be valued, nor respiration, as in do-
mesticated animals and wild beasts, nor the re-
ceiving of impressions by the appearances of
things, nor being moved by desires as puppets
by strings, nor assembling in herds, nor being
nourished by food; for this is just like the act
of separating and parting with the useless part
of our food. What then is worth being valued?
To be received with clapping of hands? No.

Neither must we value the clapping of
tongues, for the praise which comes from the
many is a clapping of tongues. Suppose then
that thou hast given up this worthless thing
called fame, what remains that is worth valu-
ing? This in my opinion, to move thyself and
to restrain thyself in conformity to thy proper
constitution, to which end both all employ-
ments and arts lead. For every art aims at this,
that the thing which has been made should be
adapted to the work for which it has been
made; and both the vine-planter who looks
after the vine, and the horse-breaker, and he
who trains the dog, seek this end. But the edu-
cation and the teaching of youth aim at some-
thing. In this then is the value of the educa-
tion and the teaching. And if this is well, thou
wilt not seek anything else. Wilt thou not
cease to value many other things too? Then
thou wilt be neither free, nor sufficient for thy
own happiness, nor without passion. For of
necessity thou must be envious, jealous, and
suspicious of those who can take away those
things, and plot against those who have that
which is valued by thee. Of necessity a man
must be altogether in a state of perturbation
who wants any of these things; and besides, he
must often find fault with the gods. But to rev-
erence and honour thy own mind will make
thee content with thyself, and in harmony
with society, and in agreement with the gods,
that is, praising all that they give and have
ordered.

17. Above, below, all around arc the move-
ments of the elements. But the motion of vir-
tue is in none of these: it is something more
divine, and advancing by a way hardly ob-
served it goes happily on its road.

18. How strangely men act. They will not
praise those who are living at the same time
and living with themselves; but to be them-
selves praised by posterity, by those whom they
have never seen or ever will sec, this they set
much value on. But this is very much the same
as if thou shouldst be grieved because those
who have lived before thee did not praise thee.

19. If a thing is difficult to be accomplished
by thyself, do not think that it is impossible
for man: but if anything# is possible for man
and conformable to his feature, think that this
can be attained by thyself too.

376 MARCUS

20. In the gymnastic exercises suppose that
a man has torn thee with his nails, and by
dashing against thy head has inflicted a
wound. Well, we neither show any signs of
vexation, nor are we offended, nor do we sus-
pect him afterwards as a treacherous fellow;
and yet we are on our guard against him, not
however as an enemy, nor yet with suspicion,
but we quietly get out of his way. Something
like this let thy behaviour be in all the other
parts of life; let us overlook many things in
those who are like antagonists in the gymna-
sium. For it is in our power, as I said, to get
out of the way, and to have no suspicion nor
hatred.

21. If any man is able to convince me and
show me that I do not think or act right, I will
gladly change; for I seek the truth by which
no man was ever injured. But he is injured
who abides in his error and ignorance.

22. I do my duty: other things trouble me
not; for they are either things without life, or
things without reason, or things that have
rambled and know not the way.

23. As to the animals which have no reason
and generally all things and objects, do thou,
since thou hast reason and they have none,
make use of them with a generous and liberal
spirit. But towards human beings, as they have
reason, behave in a social spirit. And on all oc-
casions call on the gods, and do not 'perplex
thyself about the length. of time in which thou
shalt do this; for even three hours so spent are
suflicient.

24. Alexander the Macedonian and his
groom by death were brought to the same
state; for either they were received among the
same seminal principles of the universe, or
they were alike dispersed among the atoms.

25. Consider how many things in the same
indivisible time take place in each of us, things
which concern the body and things which con-
cern the soul: and so thou wilt not wonder if
many more things, or rather all things which
come into existence in that which is the one
and all, which we call Cosmos, exist in it at
the same time.

26. If any man should propose to thee the
question, how the name Antoninus is written,
wouldst thou with a straining of the voice
utter each letter? What then if they grow

AURELIUS 20-30

angry, wilt thou be angry too? Wilt thou not
go on with composure and number every let-
ter? Just so then in this life also remember
that every duty is made up of certain parts.
These it is thy duty to observe and without be-
ing disturbed or showing anger towards those
who are angry with thee to go on thy way and
finish that which is set before thee.

27. How cruel it is not to allow men to
strive after the things which appear to them to
be suitable to their nature and proiitablel And
yet in a manner thou dost not allow them to
do this, when thou art vexed because they do
wrong. For they are certainly moved towards
things because they suppose them to be suit-
able to their nature and profitable to them. —
But it is not so. — ^Tcach them then, and show
them without being angry.

28. Death is a cessation of the impressions
through the senses, and of the pulling of the
strings which move the appetites, and of the
discursive movements of the thoughts, and of
the service to the flesh.

29. It is a shame for the soul to be first to
give way in this life, when thy body does not
give way.

30. Take care that thou art not made into a
Caesar, that thou art not dyed with this dye; for
such things happen. Keep* thyself then simple,
good, pure, serious, free from affectation, a
friend of justice, a worshipper of the gods,
kind, affectionate, strenuous in all proper acts.
Strive to continue to be such as philosophy
wished to make thee. Reverence the gods, and
help men. Short is life. There is only one fruit
of this terrene life, a pious disposition and so-
cial acts. Do everything as a disciple of AntO'
ninus. Remember his constancy in every act
which was conformable to reason, and his
evenness in all things, and his piety, and the
serenity of his countenance^ and his sweetness,
and his disregard of empty fame, and his ef-
forts to understand things; and how he would
never let anything pass ^thout having first
most carefully examined it and clearly under-
stood it; and how he bore with those who
blamed him unjustly without blaming them
in return; how he did nothing in a hurry; and
how he listened not to calumnies, and how
exact an examiner of manners and actions he
was; and not given to reproach people, nor tim-

jo-4i

id, nor suspicious, nor a sophist; and with how
little he was satisfied, such as lodging, bed,
dress, food, servants; and how laborious and
patient; and how he was able on account of his
sparing diet to hold out to the evening, not
even requiring to relieve himself by any evac-
uations except at the usual hour; and his firm-
ness and uniformity in his friendships; and
how he tolerated freedom of speech in those
who opposed his opinions; and the pleasure
that he had when any man showed him any-
thing better; and how religious he was with-
out superstition. Imitate all this that thou may-
cst have as good a conscience, when thy last
hour comes, as he had.

31. Return to thy sober senses and call thy-
self back; and when thou hast roused thyself
from sleep and hast perceived that they were
only dreams which troubled thee, now in
thy waking hours look at these (the things
about thee) as thou didst look at those (the
dreams).

32 . 1 consist of a little body and a soul. Now
to this little body all things are indifferent, for
it is not able to perceive differences. But to
the understanding those things only are indif-
ferent, which arc not the works of its own ac-
tivity. But whatever things are the works of
its own activity, all these arc in its power. And
of these however only those which are done
with reference to the present; for as to the fu-
ture and the past activities of the mind, even
these are for the present indifferent.

33. Neither the labour which the hand docs
nor that of the foot is contrary to nature, so
long as the foot docs the foot’s work and the
hand the hand’s. So then neither to a man as
a man is his labour contrary to nature, so long
as it docs the things of a man. But if the labour
is not contrary to his nature, neither is it an
evil to him.

34. How many pleasures have been enjoyed
by robbers, patricides, tyrants.

35. Dost thou not sec how the handicrafts-
men accommodate themselves up to a certain
point to those who arc not skilled in their
craft — nevertheless they cling to the reason
(the principles) of their art and do not endure
to depart from it? Is it not strange if the archi-
tect and the physician shall have more respect
to the reason (the principles) of their own arts

277

than man to his own reason, which is common
to him and the gods?

36. Asia, Europe arc corners of the universe:
all the sea a drop in the universe; Athos a little
clod of the universe: all the present time is a
point in eternity. All things are little, change-
able, perishable. All things come from thence,
from that universal ruling power cither direct-
ly proceeding or by way of sequence. And ac-
cordingly the lion’s gaping jaws, and that
which is poisonous, and every harmful thing,
as a thorn, as mud, are after-products of the
grand and beautiful. Do not then imagine that
they are of another kind from that which thou
dost venerate, but form a just opinion of the
source of all.

37. He who has seen present things has seen
all, both everything which has taken place
from all eternity and everything which will be
for time without end; for all things arc of one
kin and of one form.

38. Frequently consider the connexion of all
things in the universe and their relation to one
another. For in a manner all things arc im-
plicated with one another, and all in this way
are friendly to one another; for one thing
comes in order after another, and this is by
virtue of the active movement and mutual con-
spiration and the unity of the substance.

39. Adapt thyself to the things with which
thy lot has been cast: and the men among
whom thou hast received thy portion, love
them, but do it truly, sincerely.

40. Every instrument, tool, vessel, if it does
that for which it has been made, is well, and
yet he who made it is not there. But in the
things which arc held together by nature there
is within and there abides in them the power
which made them; wherefore the more is it
fit to reverence this power, and to think, that,
if thou dost live and act according to its will,
everything in thee is in conformity to intel-
ligence. And thus also in the universe the
things which belong to it are in conformity to
intelligence.

41. Whatever of the things which arc not
within thy power thou shalt suppose to lie
good for thee or evil, it must of necessity be
that, if such a bad thing,bcfall thee or the loss
of such a good thing, thou wilt blame the gods,
and hate men too, those who are the cause of

MEDITATIONS, BOOK VI

278 MARCUS

the misfortune or the loss, or those who are
suspected of being likely to be the cause; and
indeed we do much injustice, because we
make a difference between these things. But if
we judge only those things which arc in our
power to be good or bad, there remains no
reason either for finding fault with God or
standing in a hostile attitude to man.

42. We arc all working together to one end,
some with knowledge and design, and others
without knowing what they do; as men also
when they arc asleep, of whom it is Heraclitus,
I think, who says that they are labourers and
co-operators in the things which take place in
the universe. But men co-operate after different
fashions: and even those co-oj^rate abundant-
ly, who find fault with what happens and
those who try to oppose it and to hinder it;
for the universe had need even of such men as
these. It remains then for thee to understand
among what kind of workmen thou placest
thyself; for he who rules all things will cer-
tainly make a right use of thee, and he will
receive thee among some part of the co-oper-
ators and of those whose labours conduce to
one end. But be not thou such a part as the
mean and ridiculous verse in the play, which
Chrysippus speaks of.^

43. Docs the sun undertake to do the work
of the rain, or Aesculapius the work of the
Fruit-bearer (the earth)? And how is- it with
respect to each of the stars, are they not dif-
ferent and yet they work together to the same
md?

44. If the gods have determined about me
and about the things which must happen to
me, they have determined well, for it is not
easy even to imagine a deity without fore-
thought; and as to doing me harm, why
should they have any desire towards that? For
what advantage would result to them from
this or to the whole, which is the special object
of their providence? But if they Jiiave not de-
termined about me individually, they have
certainly determined about the whole at least,
and the things which happen by way of se-
quence in this general arrangement I ought
to accept with pleasure and to be content with
them. But if they determine about nothing —
which it is wicked to believe, or if we do bc-

* CL Plutarch, adversus Stoicost i3'i4

AURELIUS 41^47

lieve it, let us neither sacrifice nor pray nor
swear by them nor do anything else which we
do as if the gods were present and lived with
us — but if however the gods determine about
none of the things which concern us, I am
able to determine about myself, and I can in-
quire about that which is useful; and that is
useful to every man which is conformable to
his own constitution and nature. But my na-
ture is rational and social; and my city and
country, so far as I am Antoninus, is Rome,
but so far as I am a man, it is the world. The
things then which are useful to these cities
are alone useful to me.

45. Whatever happens to every man, this is
for the interest of the universal: this might be
sufficient. But further thou wilt observe this
also as a general truth, if thou dost observe,
that whatever is profitable to any man is profit-
able also to other men. But let the word profit-
able Ik taken here in the common sense as
said of things of the middle kind, neither good
nor bad.

46. As it hapjKns to thee in the amphi-
theatre and such places, that the continual
sight of the same things and the uniformity
make the sjKctacle wearisome, so it is in the
whole of life; for all things above, below, arc
the same and from the same. How long then?

47. Think continually that all kinds of men
and of all kinds of pursuits and of all nations
are dead, so that thy thoughts come down even
to Philisiion and Phoebus and Origanion.
Now turn thy thoughts to the other kinds of
men. To that place then wc must remove,
where there arc so many great orators, and so
many noble philosophers, Heraclitus, Pythag-
oras, Socrates; so many heroes of former days,
and so many generals after them, and ty-
rants; iKsides these, Eudoxus, Hipparchus,
Archimedes, and other men of acute natural
talents, great minds, lovers of labour, versatile,
confident, mockers even of the perishable and
ephemeral life of man, as Menippus and such
as are like him. As to all these consider that
they have long been in the dust. What harm
then is this to them; and what to those whose
names arc altogether unknown? One thing
here is worth a great deal, to pass thy life in
truth and justice, with a benevolent disposi-
tion even to liars and unjust men.

48. When thou wishcst to delight thyself,
think of the virtues of those who live with
thee; for instance, the activity of one, and the
modesty of another, and the liberality of a
third, and some other good quality of a fourth.
For nothing delights so much as the examples
of the virtues, when they arc exhibited in
the morals of those who live with us and
present themselves in abundance, as far as is
possible. Wherefore we must keep them be-
fore us.

49. Thou art not dissatisfied, I suppose, be-
cause thou weighest only so many litrae and
not three hundred. Be not dissatisfied then that
thou must live only so many years and not
more; for as thou art satisfied with the amount
of substance which has been assigned to thee,
so 1^ content with the time.

50. Let us try to persuade them (men). Rut
act even against their will, when the principles
of justice lead that way. If however any man
by using force stands in thy way, betake thy-
self to contentment and tranquillity, and at
the same time employ the hindrance towards
the exercise of some other virtue; and remem-
ber that thy attempt was with a reservation,
that thou didst not desire to do impossibilities.
What then didst thou desire? — Some such
ellort as this. — But thou attainest thy object,
if the things to which thou wast moved are
accomplished.

51. He who loves fame considers another
man’s activity to be his own good: and he who
loves pleasure, his own sensations; but he who

279

has understanding, considers his own acts to
be his own good.

52. It is in our power to have no opinion
about a thing, and not to be disturbed in our
soul; for things themselves have no natural
power to form our judgements.

53. Accustom thyself to attend carefully to
what is said by another, and as much as it is
possible, be in the speaker’s mind.

54. That which is not good for the swarm,
neither is it good for the bee.

55. If sailors abused the helmsman or the
sick the doctor, would they listen to anybody
else; or how could the helmsman secure the
safety of those in the ship or the doctor the
health of those whom he attends?

56. How many together with whom I came
into the w'orld are already gone out of it.

57. To the jaundiced honey tastes bitter, and
to those bitten by mad dogs water causes fear;
and to little children the ball is a fine thing.
Why then am I angry? Dost thou think that
a false opinion has less power than the bile in
the jaundiced or the poison in him who is
bitten by a mad dog?

58. No man will hinder thee from living
according to the reason of thy own nature:
nothing will happen to thee contrary to the
reason of the universal nature.

59. What kind of people arc those whom
men w'ish to please, and for what objects, and
by what kind of acts? How soon will time
cover all things, and how many it has covered
already.

MEDITATIONS, BOOK VII

BOOK SEVEN

What is badness? It is that which thou hast
often seen. And on the occasion of everything
which hapjxns keep this in mind, that it is
that which thou hast often seen. Everywhere
up and down thou wilt find the same things,
with which the old histories are filled, those of
the middle ages and those of our own day; with
which cities and houses are filled now. There
is nothing new: all things are both familiar
and short-lived.

2. How can our principles become dead, un-
less the impressions (thoughts) which cor-

respond to them are extinguished? But it is in
thy power continuously to fan these thoughts
into a flame. I can have that opinion about
anything, which I ought to have. If I can, why
am I disturbed? The things which are ex-
ternal to my mind have no relation at all to
my mind. — Let this be the state of thy affects,
and thou standest erect. To recover thy life is
in thy power. Look at things again as thou
didst use to look at them^for in this consists
the recovery of thy life.

3. The idle business of show, plays on the

a8o MARCUS AURELIUS j-t6

stage, flocks of sheep, herds, exercises with
spears, a bone cast to little dogs, a bit of bread
into fish-ponds, labourings of ants and bur-
den-carrying, runnings about of frightened
little mice, puppets pulled by strings — ^all alike.
It is thy duty then in the midst of such things
to show good humour and not a proud air; to
understand however that every man is worth
just so much as the things are worth about
which he busies himself,

4. In discourse thou must attend to what is
said, and in every movement thou must ob-
serve what is doing. And in the one thou
shouldst see immediately to what end it refers,
but in the other watch carefully what is the
thing signified.

5. Is my understanding sufficient for this or
not? If it is sufficient, I use it for the work as
an instrument given by the universal nature.
But if it is not sufficient, then cither I retire
from the work and give way to him who is
able to do it better, unless there be some reason
why I ought not to do so; or I do it as well as
I can, taking to help me the man who with the
aid of my ruling principle can do what is now
fit and useful for the general good. For what-
soever either by myself or with another I can
do, ought to be directed to this only, to that
which is useful and well suited to society.

6. How many after being celebrated by fame
have been given up to oblivion; and how many
who have celebrated the fame of others have
long been dead.

7 . Be not ashamed to be helped; for it is thy
business to do thy duty like a soldier in the as-
sault on a town. How then, if being lame thou
canst not mount up on the battlements alone,
but with the help of another it is possible?

8. Let not future things disturb thee, for
thou wilt come to them, if it shall be necessary,
having with thee the same reason which now
thou usest for present things.

9. All things are implicated .}vith one an-
other, and the bond is holy; and there is hard-
ly anything unconnected with any other thing.
For things have been co-ordinated, and they
combine to form the same universe (order).
For there is one universe made up of all things,
and one God who pervades all things, and one
substance, and one law, one common reason in
all intelligent animals, and one truth; if indeed

there is also one perfection for all animals
which are of the same stock and participate in
the same reason.

TO. Everything material soon disappears in
the substance of the whole; and everything
formal (causal) is very soon taken back into
the universal reason; and the memory of every-
thing is very soon overwhelmed in time.

11. To the rational animal the same act is
according to nature and according to reason.

12. Be thou erect, or be made erect.

13. Just as it is with the members in those

bodies which are united in one, so it is with
rational beings which exist separate, for they
have been constituted for one co-operation.
And the p>crception of this w'ill be more ap-
parent to thee, if thou often sayest to thyself
that I am a member (jueXos) of the system of
rational beings. But if (using the letter r) thou
sayest that thou art a part thou dost

not yet love men from thy heart; beneficence
does not yet delight thee for its own sake; thou
still doest it barely as a thing of propriety, and
not yet as doing good to thyself.

14. Let there fall externally what w’ill on the
parts which can feel the effects of this fall. For
those parts which have felt will complain, if
they choose. But I, unless I think that what
has hapi^cned is an cvilnim not injured. And
it is in my power not to think so.

15. Whatever any one does or says, I must
be good, just as if the gold, or the emerald, or
the purple v/ctc always saying this, Whatever
any one docs or says, I must be emerald and
keep my colour.

16. The ruling faculty docs not disturb it-
self; I mean, docs not frighten itself or cause
itself pain. But if any one else can frighten or
pain it, let him do so. For the faculty itself
will not by its own opinion turn itself into
such ways. Let the body itself take care, if it
can, that is suffer nothing, and let it speak, if
it suffers. But the soul itself, that which is sub-
ject to fear, to pain, which has completely the
power of forming an oi)inion about these
things, will suffer nothii^, for it will never
deviate into such a judgement. The leading
principle in itself wants nothing, unless it
makes a want for itself; and therefore it is
both free from perturbation and unimpeded,
if it does not disturb and impede itself.

/T-J/ MEDITATIONS, BOOK VII 281

17. Eudaemonia (happiness) is a good dae-
mon, or a good thing. What then art thou do-
ing here, O imagination? Go away, I entreat
thee by the gods, as thou didst come, for I
want thee not. But thou art come according to
thy old fashion. 1 am not angry with thee: only
go away.

18. Is any man afraid of change? Why what
can take place without change? What then is
more pleasing or more suitable to the universal
nature? And canst thou take a bath unless the
wood undergoes a change? And canst thou be
nourished, unless the food undergoes a
change? And can anything else that is useful
be accomplished without change? Dost thou
not see then that for thyself also to change is
just the same, and equally necessary for the
universal nature?

19. 'rhrough the universal substance as
through a furious torrent all bodies are car-
ried, being by their nature united with and co-
operating with the whole, as the parts of our
body with one another. How many a Chrysip-
pus, how many a Socrates, how many an Epic-
tetus has time already swallowed up? And let
the same thought occur to thee with reference
to every man and thing.

20. One thing only troubles me, lest I should
do something which the constitution of man
does not allow, or in the way which it docs
not allow, or what it does not allow now.

21. Near is thy forgetfulness of all things;
and near the forgetfulness of thee by all.

22. It is peculiar to man to love even those
who do wrong. And this happens, if when
they do wrong it occurs to thee that they arc
kinsmen, and that they do wrong through ig-
norance and unintentionally, and that soon
both of you will die; and above all, that the
wrong-doer has done thee no harm, for he has
not made thy ruling faculty worse than it was
before.

23. The universal nature out of the universal
substance, as if it were wax, now moulds a
horse, and when it has broken this up, it uses
the material for a tree, then for a man, then
for something else; and each of these things
subsists for a very short time. But it is no hard-
ship for the vessel to be broken up, just as
there was none in its being fastened together.

24. A scowling look is altogether unnatural;

when it is often assumed, the result is that all
comeliness dies away, and at last is so com-
pletely extinguished that it cannot be again
lighted up at all. Try to conclude from this
very fact that it is contrary to reason. For if
even the perception of doing wrong shall de-
part, what reason is there for living any longer?

25. Nature which governs the whole will
soon change all things which thou seest, and
out of their substance will make other things,
and again other things from the substance of
them, in order that the world may be ever new.

26. When a man has done thee any wrong,
immediately consider with what opinion about
good or evil he has done wrong. For when
thou hast seen this, thou wilt pity him, and
wilt neither wonder nor be angry. For either
thou thyself thinkest the same thing to be good
that he does or another thing of the same kind.
It is thy duty then to pardon him. But if thou
dost not think such things to be good or evil,
thou wilt more readily be well disposed to him
who is in error.

27. Think not so much of what thou hast
not as of what thou hast: but of the things
which thou hast select the best, and then re-
flect how eagerly they would have been sought,
if thou hadst them not. At the same time how-
ever take care that thou dost not through be-
ing so pleased with them accustom thyself to
overvalue them, so as to be disturbed if ever
thou shouldst not have them.

28. Retire into thyself. The rational principle
which rules has this nature, that it is content
with itself when it does what is just, and so
secures tranquillity.

29. Wipe out the imagination. Stop the pull-
ing of the strings. Confine thyself to the pres-
ent. Understand well what happens either to
thee or to another. Divide and distribute every
object into the causal (formal) and the ma-
terial. Think of thy last hour. Let the wrong
which is done by a man stay there where the
wrong was done.

30. Direct thy attention to what is said. Let
thy understanding enter into the things that
are doing and the things which do them.

31. Adorn thyself with simplicity and mod-
esty and with indiflercn^ towards the things
which lie between virtue and vice. Love man-
kind. Follow God. The poet says that Law

282 MARCUS

rules all. — ^And it is enough to remember that
Law rules all.

32. About death: Whether it is a dispersion,
or a resolution into atoms, or annihilation, it is
either extinction or change.

33. About pain: The pain which is intoler-
able carries us off; but that which lasts a long
time is tolerable; and the mind maintains its
own tranquillity by retiring into itself, and the
ruling faculty is not made worse. But the parts
which arc harmed by pain, let them, if they
can, give their opinion about it.

34. About fame: Look at the minds of those
who seek fame, observe what they arc, and
what kind of things they avoid, and what kind
of things they pursue. And consider that as the
heaps of sand piled on one another hide the
former sands, so in life the events which go
before are soon covered by those which come
after.

35. From Plato: The man who has an ele-
vated mind and takes a view of all time and
of all substance, dost thou sup|K)se it possible
for him to think that human life is anything
great? it is not possible, he said. — Such a man
then will think that death also is no evil. —
Certainly not.^

36. From Antisthenes: It is royal to do good
and to be abused.

37. It is a base thing for the countenance to
be obedient and to regulate and compose itself
as the mind commands^ and for the mind not
to be regulated and composed by itself.

38. It is not right to vex ourselves at things.
For they care nought about it.^

39. To the immortal gods and us give joy.

40. Life must be reaped like the ripe cars of
corn:

One man is born; another dies.*

41. If gods care not for me and for my chil-
dren,

There is a reason for it.*

42. For the good is with me, and the just.*

43. No joining others in their wailing, no
violent emotion.

44. From Plato: But I would make this man
a sufficient answer, which is this: Thou sayest
not well, if thou thinkest that a man who is
good for anything at all ought to compute the

^ Republic^ 486.

* Toesc arc lra|^cnts of Euripidcan plays.

AURELIUS 31-49

hazard of life or death, and should not rather
look to this only in all that he does, whether
he is doing what is just or unjust, and the
works of a good or a bad man.®

4*5. For thus it is, men of Athens, in truth:
wherever a man has placed himself thinking it
the best place for him, or has been placed by
a commander, there in my opinion he ought
to stay and to abide the hazard, taking noth-
ing into the reckoning, either death or any-
thing else, before the baseness of deserting his
post.^

46. But, my good friend, reflect whether
that which is noble and good is not something
different from saving and being saved; for as
to a man living such or such a time, at least
one who is really a man, consider if this is not
a thing to be dismissed from the thoughts: and
there must be no love of life: but as to these
matters a man must intrust them to the deity
and believe what the women say, that no man
can escape his destiny, the next inquiry being
how he may best live the time that he has to
livc.^

47. Look round at the courses of the stars,
as if thou wert going along with them; and
constantly consider the changes of the elements
into one another; for such thoughts purge
away the filth of the ternfne life.

48. This is a fine saying of Plato: That he
who is discoursing about men should look also
at earthly things as if he viewed them from
some higher place; should look at them in
their assemblies, armic’, agricultural labours,
marriages, treaties, births, deaths, noise of the
courts of justice, desert places, various nations
of barbarians, feasts, lamentations, markets, a
mixture of all things and an orderly combina-
tion of contraries.

49. Consider the past; such great changes of
political supremacies. Thou mayest foresee also
the things which will be. For they will cer-
tainly be of like form, and it is not possible
that they should deviate from the order of the
things which take place now: accordingly to
have contemplated human life for forty years
is the same as to have contemplated it for ten
thousand years. For what more wilt thou sec?

• /Ipology, 28.

^ /'Ipfjlogy^ 28.

S Plato, GorgiaSt 512.

5f>^2 MEDITATIONS, BOOK VII 283

50. That which has grown from the earth to
the earth,

But that which has sprung from heaven-
ly seed,

Back to the heavenly realms returns.*

This is cither a dissolution of the mutual in-
volution of the atoms, or a similar dispersion
of the unscnticnt elements.

51. With food and drinks and cunning mag-
ic arts

Turning the channel’s course to ’scape
from death. ^

The breeze which heaven has sent
We must endure, and toil without com-
plaining.

52. Another may be more expert in casting
his opf>oncnt; but he is not more social, nor
more modest, nor better disciplined to meet
all that happens, nor more considerate with re*
sj^ect to the faults of his neighlxiurs.

53. Where any work can be done conform-
ably to the reason which is common to gods
and men, there we have nothing to fear: for
where we are able to get profit by means of the
activity which is successful and proceeds ac-
cording to our constitution, there no harm is to
be susjxxted.

54. pA'crywherc and at all times it is in thy
power piously to acniicscc in thy present con-
dition, and to Ix'have justly to those who are
about thee, and to exert thy skill upon thy
present thoughts, that nothing shall steal into
them without being well examined.

55. Do not look around thee to discover
other men's ruling principles, but look straight
to this, to what nature leads thee, both the uni-
versal nature through the things which hap-
pen to thee, and thy own nature through the
acts which must lx done by thee. But every Ix-
ing ought to do that which is according to its
constitution; and all other things have been
constituted for the sake of rational beings, just
as among irrational things the inferior for the
sake of the superior, but the rational for the
sake of one another.

The prime principle then in man’s constitu-
tion is the social. And the second is not to
yield to the persuasions of the body, for it is
the jxculiar office of the rational and intel-

* Euripides, fragment.

• Euripides, Suppltarus, 1 1 lO.

ligent motion to circumscribe itself, and never
to be overpowered either by the motion of the
senses or of the appetites, for both are animal;
but the intelligent motion claims superiority
and does not permit itself to be overpowered
by the others. And with good reason, for it is
formed by nature to use all of them. The
third thing in the rational constitution is free-
dom from error and from deception. Let then
the ruling principle holding fast to these
things go straight on, and it has what is its
own.

56. Consider thyself to be dead, and to have
completed thy life up to the present time; and
live according to nature the remainder which
is allowed thee.

57. Love that only which happens to thee
and is sf>un with the thread of thy destiny.
For what is more suitable?

58. In everything which happens keep be-
fore thy eyes those to whom the same things
happened, and how they were vexed, and
treated them as strange things, and found
fault with them: and now where arc they?
Nowhere. Why then dost thou too choose to
act in the same way? And why dost thou not
leave these agitations which arc foreign to
nature, to those who cause them and those
who are moved by them? And why art thou
not altogether intent upon the right way of
making use of the things which happen to
thee? For then thou wilt use them well, and
they will be a material for thee to work on.
Only attend to thyself, and resolve to be a good
man in every act which thou doest: and re-
member . . .

59. Look within. Within is the fountain of
good, and it will ever bubble up, if thou wilt
ever dig.

60. The body ought to be compact, and to
show no irregularity cither in motion or at-
titude. For what the mind shows in the face by
maintaining in it the expression of intelligence
and propriety, that ought to be required also
in the whole body. But all of these things
should be observed without affectation.

61. The art of life is more like the wrestler’s
art than the dancer’s, in respect of this, that it
should stand ready and ^rm to meet onsets
which are sudden and unexpected.

62. Constantly observe who those arc whose

204 MARCUS AVREUUS 6^0

approbation thou wishest to have, and what
ruling principles they possess. For then thou
wilt neither blame those who offend involun-
tarily, nor wilt thou want their approbation,
if thou lookest to the sources of their opinions
and appetites.

63. Every soul, the philosopher says, is in-
voluntarily deprived of truth; consequently in
the same way it is deprived of justice and
temperance and benevolence and everything of
the kind. It is most necessary to bear this con-
stantly in mind, for thus thou wilt be more
gentle towards all.

64. In every pain let this thought be present,
that there is no dishonour in it, nor does it
make the governing intelligence worse, for it
docs not damage the intelligence cither so far
as the intelligence is rational or so far as it is
social. Indeed in the case of most pains let this
remark of Epicurus aid thee, that pain is
neither intolerable nor everlasting, if thou
bearest in mind that it has its limits, and
if thou addest nothing to it in imagination:
and remember this too, that we do not per-
ceive that many things which are disagreeable
to us are the same as pain, such as excessive
drowsiness, and the being scorched by heat,
and the having no appetite. When- then
thou art discontented about any of these
things, say to thyself, that thou art yielding to
pain.

65. Take care not to feel towards the in-
human, as they feel towards men.

66. How do we know if Telauges was not
superior in character to Socrates? For it is not
enough that Socrates died a more noble death,
and disputed more skilfully with the sophists,
and passed the night in the cold with more en-
durance, and that when he was bid to arrest
Leon of Salamis, he considered it more noble
to refuse, and that he walked in a swaggering
way in the streets^ — though as to this fact one
may have great doubts if it was irue. But we
ought to inquire, what kind of a soul it was
that Socrates possessed, and if he was able to
be content with being just towards men and
pious towards the gods, neither idly vexed on
account of men’s villainy, nor yet making him-
self a slave to any man’s ignorance, nor re-
ceiving as strange anything that fell to his

^ C£ Aristophanes, Clouds^ 363.

share out of the universal, nor enduring it as
intolerable, nor allowing his understanding to
sympathize with the affects of the miserable
flesh.

67. Nature has not so mingled the intel-
ligence with the composition of the body, as
not to have allowed thee the power of circum-
scribing thyself and of bringing under sub-
jection to thyself all that is thy own; for it is
very possible to be a divine man and to be
recognised as such by no one. Always bear
this in mind; and another thing too, that very
little indeed is necessary for living a happy
life. And because thou hast despaired of be-
coming a dialectician and skilled in the knowl-
edge of nature, do not for this reason renounce
the hope of being both free and modest and
social and obedient to God.

68. It is in thy power to live free from all
compulsion in the greatest tranquillity of
mind, even if all the world cry out against
thee as much as they choose, and even if wild
beasts tear in pieces the meml^ers of this
kneaded matter which has grown around thee.
For what hinders the mind in the midst of all
this from maintaining itself in tranquillity and
in a just judgement of all surrounding things
and in a ready use of the objects which are
presented to it, so that thtr judgement may say
to the thing which falls under its observation:
This thou art in substance (reality), though
in men’s opinion thou mayest appear to be of a
different kind; and the use shall say to that
which falls under the hand: Thou art the
thing that I was seeking; for to me that which
presents itself is always a material for virtue
both rational and political, and in a word, for
the exercise of art, which belongs to man or
God. For everything which happens has a re-
lationship either to Gcd or man, and is neither
new nor difficult to handle, but usual and apt
matter to work on.

69. The perfection of moral character con-
sists in this, ill passing evfry day as the last,
and in being neither videntiy excited nor
torpid nor playing the hypjbcrite.

70. The gods who are- immortal are not
vexed because during so long a time they must
tolerate continually men such as they are and
so many of them bad; and besides this, they
also take care of them in all ways. But thou,

1-6 MEDITATIONS, BOOK VIII 285

who art destined to end so soon, art thou
wearied of enduring the bad, and this too
when thou art one of them?

71. It is a ridiculous thing for a man not to
fly from his own badness, which is indeed
possible, but to fly from other men’s badness,
which is impossible.

72. Whatever the rational and political (so-
cial) faculty finds to be neither intelligent
nor social, it properly judges to be inferior to
itself.

73. When thou hast done a gt)od act and
another has received it, why dost thou look for
a third thing besides these, as fools do, either

to have the reputation of having done a good
act or to obtain a return?

74. No man is tired of receiving what is use-
ful. But it is useful to act according to nature.
Do not then be tired of receiving what is use-
ful by doing it to others.

75. The nature of the All moved to make
the universe. But now cither everything that
takes place comes by way of consequence or
continuity; or even the chief things towards
which the ruling power of the universe directs
its own movement are governed by no rational
principle. If this is remembered it will make
thee more tranquil in many things.

• BOOK EIGHT

This reflection also tends to the removal of the
desire of empty fame, that it is no longer in
thy power to have lived the whole of thy life,
or at least thy life from thy youth upwards,
like a philosopher; but both to many others
and to thyself it is plain that thou art far from
philosophy. Thou hast fallen into disorder
then, so that it is no longer easy for thee to get
the reputation of a philosopher; and thy plan
of life also opposes it. If then thou hast truly
seen where the matter lies, throw away the
thought, How thou shall seem to others, and
Ik content if thou shall live the rest of thy life
in such wise as thy nature wills. Observe then
what it wills, and let nothing else distract
thee; for thou hast had experience of many
wanderings without having found happiness
anywhere, not in syllogisms, nor in wealth,
nor in reputation, nor in enjoyment, nor any-
where. Where is it then? In doing w^hat man’s
nature requires. How then shall a man do
this? If he has principles from which come his
affects and his acts. What principles? Those
which relate to good and bad: the belief that
there is nothing good for man, which docs not
make him just, temperate, manly, free; and
that there is nothing bad, which does not do
the contrary to what has been mentioned.

2. On the occasion of every act ask thyself,
How is this with respect to me? Shall I repent
of it? A little time and I am dead, and all is
gone. What more do I seek, if what I am now

doing is work of an intelligent living being,
and a social being, and one who is under the
same law with God?

3. Alexander and Gains' and Pompeius,
what are they in comparison with Diogenes
and Heraclitus and Socrates? For they were
acquainted with things, and their causes
(forms), and their matter, and the ruling
principles of these men were the same. But as
to the others, how many things had they to
care for, and to how many things were they
slaves ?

4. Consider that men will do the same things
nevertheless, even though thou shouldst burst.

5. This is the chief thing: Be not perturbed,
for all things are according to the nature of
the universal; and in a little time thou wilt be
nobody and nowhere, like Hadrian and Au-
gustus. In the next place having fixed thy
eyes steadily on thy business look at it, and at
the same time remembering that it is thy duty
to be a good man, and what man’s nature de-
mands, do that without turning aside; and
speak as it seems to thee most just, only let it
be with a good disposition and with modesty
and without hypocrisy.

6. The nature of the universal has this work
to do, to remove to that place the things which
arc in this, to change them, to take them away
hence, and to carry then^here. All things arc
change, yet we need not fear anything new.

^ I.C., Julius Caesar.

286 MARCUS

All things are familiar to us; but the distribu-
tion of them still remains the same.

7. Every nature is contented with itself when
it goes on its way well; and a rational nature
goes on its way well^ when in its thoughts it
assents to nothing false or uncertain^ and
when it directs its movements to social acts
only, and when it confines its desires and aver-
sions to the things which are in its power, and
when it is satisfied with everything that is as-
signed to it by the common nature. For of this
common nature every particular nature is a
part, as the nature of the leaf is a part of the
nature of the plant; except that in the plant
the nature of the leaf is part of a nature which
has not perception or reason, and is subject to
be impeded; but the nature of man is part of a
nature which is not subject to impediments,
and is intelligent and just, since it gives to
everything in equal portions and according to
its worth, times, substance, cause (form), ac-
tivity, and incident. But examine, not to dis-
cover that any one thing compared with any
other single thing is equal in all respects, but
by taking all the parts together of one thing
and comparing them with all the parts to-
gether of another.

8. Thou hast not leisure or ability to read.
But thou hast leisure or ability to check ar-
rogance: thou hast leisure to be superior to
pleasure and pain: thou hast leisure to be su-
perior to love of fame, and not to be vexed at
stupid and ungrateful people, nay even to care
for them.

9. Let no man any longer hear thee finding
fault with the court life or with thy own.

10. Repentance is a kind of self-reproof for
having neglected something useful; but that
which is good must be something useful, and
the perfect good man should look after it. But
no such man would ever repent of having re-
fused any sensual pleasure. Pleasure then is
neither good nor useful.

1 1. This thing, what is it in itself, in its own
constitution? What is its substance and ma-
terial? And what its causal nature (or form)?
And what is it doing in the world? And how
long docs it subsist?

12. When thou risest from sleep with re-
luctance, remember that it is according to thy
constitution and according to human nature

AURELIUS 6-/9

to perform social acts, but sleeping is common
also to irrational animals. But that which is ac-
cording to each individual’s nature is also
more peculiarly its own, and more suitable to
its nature, and indeed also more agreeable.

13. Constantly and, if it be possible, on the
occasion of every impression on the soul, ap-
ply to it the principles of Physic, of Ethic, and
of Dialectic.

14. Whatever man thou meelcst with, im-
mediately say to thyself: What opinions has
this man about good and bad? For if with re-
spect to pleasure and pain and the causes of
each, and with respect to fame and ignominy,
death and life, he has such and such opinions,
it will seem nothing wonderful or strange to
me, if he does such and such things; and I
shall bear in mind that he is compelled to do
so.

15. Remember that as it is a shame to be
surprised if the fig-tree produces figs, so it is
to be surprised if the world produces such and
such things of which it is productive; and for
the physician and the helmsman it is a shame
to be surprised, if a man has a fever, or if the
wind is unfavourable.

16. Remeinl)er that to change thy opinion
and to follow him w^ho corrects thy error is as
consistent with frecclonv^s it is to persist in
thy error. For it is thy own, the activity which
is exerted according to thy own movement and
judgement, and indeed according to thy own
understanding too.

17. If a thing is in thy own power, why
dost thou do it? But if it is in the power of an-
other, whom dost thou blame? The atoms
(chance) or the gods? Both arc foolish. Thou
must blame nobody. For if thou canst, correct
that which is the cause; but if thou canst not
do this, correct at least the thing itself; but if
thou canst not do even this, of what use is it
to thee to find fault? For nothing should be
done without a purpose.

18. That which has died falls not out of the
universe. If it stays here, it also changes here,
and is dissolved into its proper parts, which
arc elements of the universe and of thyself.
And these too change, and they murmur not.

19. Everything exists for some end, a horse,
a vine. Why dost thou wonder? Even the sun
will say, I am for some purpose, and the rest

19-32 MEDITATIONS, BOOK VIII 287

of the gods will say the same. For what pur-
pose then art thou? to enjoy pleasure? See if
common sense allows this.

20. Nature has had regard in everything no
less to the end than to the beginning and the
continuance, just like the man who throws up
a ball. What good is it then for the ball to be
thrown up, or harm for it to come down, or
even to have fallen? And what good is it to
the bubble while it holds together, or what
harm when it is burst? The same may be said
of a light also.

21. Turn it (the body) inside out, and see
what kind of thing it is; and when it has
grown old, what kind of thing it becomes, and
when it is diseased.

Short-lived are both the praiser and the
praised, and the rememberer and the remem-
bered: and all this in a nook of this part of the
world; and not even here do all agree, no, not
any one with himself: and the whole earth too
is a point.

22. Attend to the matter which is before
thee, whether it is an opinion or an act or a
word.

Thou suflercst this justly: for thou chooscst
rather to become good to-morrow than to be
good to-day.

23. Am I doing anything? I do it with ref-
erence to the good of mankind. Does anything
happen to me? I receive it and refer it to the
gods, and the source of all things, from which
all that hapjxms is derived.

24. Such as bathing apf^cars to thee — oil,
sweat, dirt, filthy water, all things disgusting
— so is every part of life and everything.

25. Lucilla saw Verus die, and then Lucilla
died. Secunda saw Maximus die, and then
Secunda died. Epilynchanus saw Diotimus
die, and Epilynchanus died. Antoninus saw
Faustina die, and then Antoninus died. Such
is everything. Celcr saw Hadrian die, and
then Celcr died. And those shar[>witlcd men,
either seers or men inflated with pride, where
arc they? For instance the sharjvwitied men,
Charax and Demetrius the Platonist and Eu-
daemon, and any one else like them. All
ephemeral, dead long ago. Some indeed have
not been remembered even for a short time,
and others have become the heroes of fables,
and again others have disap{)eared even from

fables. Remember this then, that this little
compound, thyself, must cither be dissolved,
or thy poor breath must be extinguished, or be
removed and placed elsewhere.

26. It is satisfaction to a man to do the proper
works of a man. Now it is a proper work of a
man to be benevolent to his own kind, to de-
spise the movements of the senses, to form a
just judgement of plausible appearances, and
to take a survey of the nature of the universe
and of the things which happen in it.

27. There arc three relations between thee
and other things: the one to the body which
surrounds thee; the second to the divine cause
from which all things come to all; and the
third to those who live with thee.

28. Pain is either an evil to the body — then
let the body say what it thinks of it — or to the
soul; but it is in the power of the soul to main-
tain its own serenity and tranquillity, and not
to think that pain is an evil. For every judge-
ment and movement and desire and aversion
is within, and no evil ascends so high.

29. Wipe out thy imaginations by often say-
ing to thyself: now it is in my power to let no
badness be in this soul, nor desire nor any per-
turbation at all; but looking at all things I see
what is their nature, and I use each according
to its value. — Remember this power which
thou hast from nature.

30. Speak both in the senate and to every
man, whoever he may be, appropriately, not
with any affectation: use plain discourse.

31. Augustus' court, wife, daughter, de-
scendants, ancestors, sister, Agrippa, kinsmen,
intimates, friends, Areius, Maecenas, physi-
cians and sacrificing priests — the whole court
is dead. Then turn to the rest, not considering
the death of a single man, but of a whole race,
as of the Pompeii; and that which is inscribed
on the tombs — The last of his race. Then con-
sider what trouble those before them have had
that they might leave a successor; and then,
that of necessity some one must be the last.
Again here consider the death of a whole race.

32. It is thy duty to order thy life well in
every single act; and if every act does its duly,
as far as is possible, be content; and no one
is able to hinder thee sojthat each act shall not
do its duly. — But something external will
stand in the way. — Nothing will stand in the

288 MARCUS

way of thy acting justly and soberly and con-
siderately. — But perhaps some other active
power will be hindered. — ^Well, but by ac-
quiescing in the hindrance and by being con-
tent to transfer thy efforts to that which is al-
lowed, another opportunity of action is im-
mediately put before thee in place of that
which was hindered, and one which will adapt
itself to this ordering of which we arc speak-
ing.

33. Receive wealth or prosperity without ar-
rogance; and be ready to let it go.

34. If thou didst ever see a hand cut off, or a
foot, or a head, lying anywhere apart from the
rest of the body, such does a man make him-
self, as far as he can, who is not content with
what happens, and separates himself from oth-
ers, or docs anything unsocial. Suppose that
thou hast detached thyself from the natural
unity — for thou wast made by nature a part,
but now thou hast cut thyself off — yet here
there is this beautiful provision, that it is in
thy power again to unite thyself. God has al-
lowed this to no other part, after it has been
separated and cut asunder, to come together
again. But consider the kindness by which he
has distinguished man, for he has put it in his
power not to be separated at all from the uni-
versal; and when he has been separated, he
has allowed him to return and to be united
and to resume his place as a part.

35. As the nature of the universal has given
to every rational being all the other powers
that it has, so we have received from it this
power also. For as the universal nature con-
verts and fixes in its predestined place every-
thing which stands in the way and opposes it,
and makes such things a part of itself, so also
the rational animal is able to make every hin-
drance its own material, and to use it for such
purposes as it may have designed.

36. Do not disturb thyself by thinking of the
%vholc of thy life. Let not thy thoughts at once
embrace all the various troubles 'which thou
mayest expect to befall thee: but on every oc-
casion ask thyself. What is there in this which
is intolerable and past bearing.^ For thou wilt
be ashamed to confess. In the next place re-
member that neither the future nor the past
pains thee, but only the present. But this is re-
duced to a very little, if thou only circumscrib-

AUREUUS 32-41

est it, and chidest thy mind, if it is unable to
hold out against even this.

37. Does Panthea or Pergamus now sit by
the tomb of VerusP Does Chaurias or Dioti-
mus sit by the tomb of Hadrian? That would
be ridiculous. Well, suppose they did sit there,
would the dead be conscious of it? And if the
dead were conscious, would they be pleased?
And if they were pleased, would that make
them immortal? Was it not in the order of
destiny that these persons too should first be-
come old women and old men and then die?
What then would those do after these were
dead? All this is foul smell and blood in a
bag.

38. If theu canst see sharp, look and judge
wisely, says the philosopher.

39. In the constitution of the rational animal
I see no virtue which is opposed to justice; but
I see a virtue which is opposed to love of
pleasure, and that is tem(x:rance.

40. If thou takest away thy opinion about
that which appears to give thee pain, thou thy-
self standest in perfect security. — Who is this
self? — The reason. — But I am not reason. — Be
it so. Let then the rca.son itself not trouble it-
self. But if any other part of thee suffers, let
it have its own opinion about itself.

41. Hindrance to the perceptions of sense is
an evil to the animal nature. Hindrance to the
movements (desires) is equally an evil to the
animal nature. And something else also is
equally an impediment and an evil to the con-
stitution of plants. So then that which is a hin-
drance to the intelligence is an evil to the in-
telligent nature. Apply all these things then
to thyself. Docs pain or sensuous pleasure af-
fect thee? The senses will look to that. — Has
any obstacle op|X)scd thee in thy efforts to-
wards an object? if indeed thou wast making
this effort absolutely (unconditionally, or with-
out any reservation), certainly this obstacle is
an evil to thee considered as a rational animal.
But if thou takest into consideration the usual
course of things, thou hast not yet been in-
jured nor even impeded. T^e things however
which arc proper lo the understanding no
other man is used to impede, for neither fire,
nor iron, nor tyrant, nor abuse, touches it in
any way. When it has been made a sphere, it
continues a sphere.

4 ^ 5 ^ MEDITATIONS, BOOK VIII 289

42. It is not fit that I should give myself
pain, for I have never intentionally given pain
even to another.

43. Different things delight different people.
But it is my delight to keep the ruling faculty
sound without turning away either from any
man or from any of the things which happen
to men, but looking at and receiving all with
welcome eyes and using everything according
to its value.

44. See that thou secure this present time to
thyself: for those who rather pursue posthu-
mous fame do not consider that the men of
after time will be exactly such as these whom
they cannot bear now; and both are mortal.
And what is it in any way to thee if these men
of after time utter this or that sound, or have
this or that opinion about thee?

45. Take me and cast me where thou wilt;
for there I shall keep my divine part tranquil,
that is, content, if it can feel and act conform-
ably to its proper constitution. Is this change
of place sufficient reason why my soul should
be unhappy and worse than it was, depressed,
expanded, shrinking, affrighted? And what
wilt thou find which is sufficient reason for
this?

46. Nothing can happen to any man which
is not a human accident, nor to an ox which is
not according to the nature of an ox, nor to a
vine which is not according to the nature of a
vine, nor to a stone which is not proper to a
stone. If then there happens to each thing both
what is usual and natural, why shouldst thou
complain? For the common nature brings
nothing which may not be borne by thee.

47. If thou art pained by any external thing,
it is not this thing that disturbs thee, but thy
own judgement about it. And it is in thy
power to wipe out this judgement now. But if
anything in thy own disposition gives thee
pain, who hinders thee from correcting thy
opinion? And even if thou art pained because
thou art not doing some particular thing
which seems to thee to be right, why dost thou
not rather act than complain? — But some in-
superable obstacle is in the way? — Do not be
grieved then, for the cause of its not being
done depends not on thee. — But it is not worth
while to live, if this cannot be done. — ^Takc thy
departure then from life contentedly, just as

he dies who is in full activity, and well pleased
too with the things which arc obstacles.

48. Remember that the ruling faculty is in-
vincible, when self-collected it is satisfied with
itself, if it docs nothing which it docs not
choose to do, even if it resist from mere ob-
stinacy. What then will it be when it forms a
judgement about anything aided by reason
and deliberately? Therefore the mind which
is free from passions is a citadel, for man has
nothing more secure to which he can fly for
refuge and for the future be inexpugnable.
He then who has not seen this is an ignorant
man; but he who has seen it and docs not fly
to this refuge is unhappy.

49. Say nothing more to thyself than what
the first appearances report. Suppose that it
has been reported to thee that a certain person
speaks ill of thee. This has been reported; but
that thou hast been injured, that has not been
reported. I see that my child is sick. I do see;
but that he is in danger, I do not see. Thus
then always abide by the first appearances, and
add nothing thyself from within, and then
nothing happens to thee. Or rather add some-
thing, like a man who knows everything that
happens in the world.

50. A cucumber is bitter. — Throw it away.
— There are briars in the road. — ^Turn aside
from them. — This is enough. Do not add, And
why were such things made in the world? For
thou wilt be ridiculed by a man who is ac-
quainted with nature, as thou wouldst be ridi-
culed by a carpenter and shoemaker if thou
didst find fault because thou seest in their
workshop shavings and cuttings from the
things which they make. And yet they have
places into which they can throw these shav-
ings and cuttings, and the universal nature
has no external space; but the wondrous part
of her art is that though she has circumscribed
herself, everything within her which appears
to decay and to grow old and to be useless she
changes into herself, and again makes other
new things from these very same, so that she
requires neither substance from without nor
wants a place into which she may cast that
which decays. She is content then with her
own space, and her owp'^atter and her own
art.

51. Neither in thy actions be sluggish nor in

290

thy conversation without method, nor wander^
ing in thy thoughts, nor let there be in thy soul
inward contention nor external effusion, nor
in life be so busy as to have no leisure.

Suppose that men kill thee, cut thee in
pieces, curse thee. What then can these things
do to prevent thy mind from remaining pure,
wise, sober, just? For instance, if a man
should stand by a limpid pure spring, and
curse it, the spring never ceases sending up
potable water; and if he should cast clay into
it or filth, it will speedily disperse them and
wash them out, and will not be at all polluted.
How then shalt thou possess a perpetual foun-
tain and not a mere well? By forming thyself
hourly to freedom conjoined with content-
ment, simplicity and modesty.

52. He who does not know what the world
is, does not know where he is. And he who
does not know for what purpose the world
exists, does not know who he is, nor what the
world is. But he who has failed in any one of
these things could not even say for what pur-
pose he exists himself. What then dost thou
think of him who avoids or seeks the praise of
those who applaud, of men who know not
either where they arc or who they are?

53. Dost thou wish to be praised by a man
who curses himself thrice every hour? Wouldst
thou wish to please a man who docs not please
himself? Does a man please himself who re-
pents of nearly everything that he docs?

54. No longer let thy breathing only act in
concert with the air which surrounds thee, but
let thy intelligence also now be in harmony
with the intelligence which embraces all
things. For the intelligent power is no less dif-
fused in all parts and pervades all things for
him who is willing to draw it to him than the
aerial power for him who is able to respire it.

55. Generally, wickedness does no harm at
all to the universe; and particularly, the wick-
edness of one man docs no harn%, to another.
It is only harmful to him who has it in his
power to be released from it, as soon as he
shall choose.

57-6/

56. To my own free will the free will of my
neighbour is just as indifferent as his poor
breath and flesh. For though we are made espe-
cially for the sake of one another, still the rul-
ing power of each of us has its own office, for
otherwise my neighbour’s wickedness would
be my harm, which God has not willed in
order that my unhappiness may not depend
on another.

57. The sun apfx^ars to be poured down, and
in all directions indeed it is diffused, yet it is
not effused. For this diffusion is extension: Ac-
cordingly its rays are called Extensions [aKrlves]
because they are extended [exTro roD eKreLveaO ai].
But one may judge what kind of a thing a
ray is, if he looks at the sun’s light passing
through a narrow opening into a darkened
room, for it is extended in a right line, and as
it were is divided when it meets with any solid
body which stands in the way and intercepts
the air beyond; but there the light remains
fixed and does not glide or fall off. Such then
ought to be the out-pouring and diffusion of
the understanding, and it should in no way be
an effusion, but an extension, and it should
make no violent or imjKtuous collision with
the obstacles which are in its way; nor yet fall
down, but be fixed and enlighten that which
receives it. For a body wiU deprive itself of the
illumination, if it does not admit it.

58. He who fears death cither fears the loss
of sensation or a different kind of sensation.
But if thou shalt have no sensation, neither
wilt thou feel any harm; and if thou shalt ac-
quire another kind of sensation, thou wilt be
a different kind of living being and thou wilt
not cease to live.

59. Men exist for the sake of one another.
Teach them then or bear with them.

60. In one way an arrow moves, in another
way the mind. The mind indeed, both when it
exercises caution and when it is employed
about inquiry, moves straight onward not the
less, and to its object.

61. Enter into every man’s ruling faculty;
and also let every other man enter into thine.

MARCUS AURELIUS

MEDITATIONS, BOOK IX

291

1-3

•BOOK NINE

He who acts unjustly acts impiously. For since
the universal nature has made rational animals
for the sake of one another to help one another
according to their deserts, but in no way to in-
jure one another, he who transgresses her will,
is clearly guilty of impiety towards the high-
est divinity. And he too who lies is guilty of
impiety to the same divinity; for the universal
nature is the nature of things that are; and
things that are have a relation to all things
that come into existence. And further, this uni-
versal nature is named truth, and is the prime
cause of all things that are true. He then who
lies intentionally is guilty of impiety inasmuch
as he acts unjustly by deceiving; and he also
who lies unintentionally, inasmuch as he is at
variance with universal nature, and inas-
much as he disturbs the order by fighting
against the nature of the world; for he fights
against it, who is moved of himself to that
which is contrary to truth, for he had received
powers from nature through the neglect of
which he is not able now to distinguish false-
hood from truth. And indeed he who pursues
pleasure as good, and avoids pain as evil, is
guilty of impiety. For of necessity such a man
must often find fault with the universal na-
ture, alleging that it assigns things to the bad
and the good contrary to their deserts, because
frequently the bad are in the enjoyment of
pleasure and possess the things which procure
pleasure, hut the good have pain for their share
and the things which cause pain. And further,
he who is afraid of pain will sometimes also be
afraid of some of the things which will happen
in the world, and even this is impiety. And he
who pursues pleasure will not abstain from in-
justice, and this is plainly impiety. Now with
respect to the things towards which the uni-
versal nature is equally affected — for it would
not have made both, unless it was equally af-
fected towards both — towards these they who
wish to follow nature should lx: of the same
mind with it, and equally affected. With re-
spect to pain, then, and pleasure, or death and
life, or honour and dishonour, which the uni-

versal nature employs equally, whoever is not
equally affected is manifestly acting impiously.
And I say that the universal nature employs
them equally, instead of saying that they hap-
pen alike to those who are produced in con-
tinuous series and to those who come after
them by virtue of a certain original movement
of Providence, according to which it moved
from a certain beginning to this ordering of
things, having conceived certain principles of
the things which were to be, and having de-
termined powers productive of beings and of
changes and of such like successions.

2. It would be a man’s happiest lot to depart
from mankind without having had any taste of
lying and hypocrisy and luxury and pride.
However to breathe out one’s life when a man
has had enough of these things is the next best
voyage, as the saying is. Hast thou determined
to abide with vice, and has not experience yet
induced thee to fly from this pestilence? For
the destruction of the understanding is a pes-
tilence, much more indeed than any such cor-
ruption and change of this atmosphere which
surrounds us. For this corruption is a pesti-
lence of animals so far as they are animals; but
the other is a pestilence of men so far as they
are men.

3. Do not despise death, but be well content
with it, since this too is one of those things
which nature wills. For such as it is to be
young and to grow old, and to increase and to
reach maturity, and to have teeth and beard
and grey hairs, and to beget, and to be preg-
nant and to bring forth, and all the other natu-
ral operations which the seasons of thy life
bring, such also is dissolution. This, then, is
consistent with the character of a reflecting
man, to be neither careless nor impatient nor
contemptuous with respect to death, but to
wait for it as one of the operations of nature.
As thou now waitest for the time when the
child shall come out of thy wife’s womb, so be
ready for the time wheurfliy soul shall fall out
of this envelope. But if thou requirest also a
vulgar kind of comfort which shall reach thy

292

heart, thou wilt be made best reconciled to
death by observing the objects from which
thou art going to be removed, and the morals
of those with whom thy soul will no longer be
mingled. For it is no way right to be offended
with men, but it is thy duty to care for them
and to bear with them gently; and yet to re-
member that thy departure will be not from
men who have the same principles as thyself.
For this is the only thing, if there be any,
which could draw us the contrary way and
attach us to life, to be permitted to live with
those who have the same principles as our-
selves. But now thou seest how great is the
trouble arising from the discordance of those
who live together, so that thou mayest say.
Come quick, O death, lest perchance I, too,
should forget myself.

4. He who does wrong does wrong against
himself. He who acts unjustly acts unjustly to
himself, because he makes himself bad.

5. He often acts unjustly who docs not do a
certain thing; not only he who docs a certain
thing.

6. Thy present opinion founded on under-
standing, and thy present conduct directed to
social good, and thy present disposition of con-
tentment with everything which happens —
that is enough.

7. Wipe out imagination: check desire: ex-
tinguish appetite: keep the ruling faculty in its
own power.

8. Among the animals which have not rea-
son one life is distributed; but among reason-
able animals one intelligent soul is distributed:
just as there is one earth of all things which
are of an earthy nature, and we see by one
light, and breathe one air, all of us that have
the faculty of vision and all that have life.

9. All things which participate in anything
which is common to them all move towards
that which is of the same kind with them-
selves. Everything which is earthy turns to-
wards the earth, everything which is liquid
(lows together, and everything which is of an
aerial kind does the same, so that they require
something to keep them asunder, and the ap-
plication of force. Fire indeed moves upwards
on account of the elemental (ire, but it is so
ready to be kindled together with all the (ire
which is here, that even every substance which

J-//

is somewhat dry, is easily ignited, because
there is less mingled with it of that which is a
hindrance to ignition. Accordingly then every-
thing also which participates in the common
intelligent nature moves in like manner to-
wards that which is of the same kind with it-
self, or moves even more. For so much as it is
superior in comparison with all other things,
in the same degree also is it more ready to
mingle with and to be fused with that which
is akin to it. Accordingly among animals de-
void of reason we (ind swarms of bees, and
herds of cattle, and the nurture of young birds,
and in a manner, loves; for even in animals
there are souls, and that power which brings
them together is seen to exert itself in the su-
perior degree, and in such a way as never has
been observed in plants nor in stones nor in
trees. But in rational animals there are politi-
cal communities and friendships, and families
and meetings of people; and in wars, treaties
and armistices. But in the things which are still
superior, even though they are separated from
one another, unity in a manner exists, as in the
stars. Thus the ascent to the higher degree is
able to produce a sympathy even in things
which are separated. See, then, what now takes
place. For only intelligent animals have now
forgotten this mutual desire and inclination,
and in them alone the property of (lowing to-
gether is not seen. But still though men strive
to avoid this union, they arc caught and held
by it, for their nature is too strong for them;
and thou wilt see what I say, if thou only ob-
servest. Sooner, then, will one find anything
earthy which comes in contact with no earthy
thing than a man altogether separated from
other men.

10. Both man and God and the universe pro-
duce fruit; at the proper seasons each produces
it. But if usage has especially fixed these terms
to the vine and like thin|]^, this is nothing.
Reason produces fruit both- for all and for it-
self, and there, are produced from it other
things of the same kind as i^ason itself.

1 1. Tf thou art able, corredt by teaching those
who do wrong; but if thou canst not, remem-
ber that indulgence is given to thee for this
purpose. And the gods, too, are indulgent to
such persons; and for some purposes they even
help them to get health, wealth, reputation; so

MARCUS AVREUUS

11-28

kind they are. And it is in thy power also;
say, who hinders thee?

12. Labour not as one who is wretched, nor
yet as one who would be pitied or admired:
but direct thy will to one thing only, to put
thyself in motion and to check thyself, as the
social reason requires.

13. To day I have got out of all trouble,
or rather I have cast out all trouble, for it
was not outside, but within and in my opin-
ions.

14. All things arc the same, familiar in ex-
perience, and ephemeral in time, and worth-
less in the matter. Everything now is just as
it was in the time of those whom we have
buried.

15. Things stand outside of us, themselves
by themselves, neither knowing aught of
themselves, nor expressing any judgement.
What is it, then, which does judge about
them? The ruling faculty.

16. Not in passivity, but in activity lie the
evil and the good of the rational social animal,
just as his virtue and his vice lie not in passiv-
ity, but in activity.

17. For the stone which has been thrown up
it is no evil to come down, nor indeed any
good to have been carried up.

18. Penetrate inwards into men’s leading
principles, and thou wilt see what judges thou
art afraid of, and what kind of judges they arc
ot themselves.

19. All things arc changing: and thou thy-
self art in continuous mutation and in a man-
ner in continuous destruction, and the whole
universe too.

20. It is thy duty to leave another man’s
wrongful act there where it is.

21. Termination of activity, cessation from
movement and opinion, and in a sense their
death, is no evil. Turn thy thoughts now to
the consideration of thy life, thy life as a child,
as a youth, thy manhood, thy old age, for in
these also every change was a death. Is this
anything to fear? Turn thy thoughts now to
thy life under thy grandfather, then to thy life
under thy mother, then to thy life under thy
father; and as thou findest many other differ-
ences and changes and terminations, ask thy-
self, Is this anything to fear? In like manner,
then, neither are the termination and cessa-

293

tion and change of thy whole life a thing to be
afraid of.

22. Hasten to examine thy own ruling facul-
ty and that of the universe and that of thy
neighbour: thy own that thou mayest make it
just: and that of the universe, that thou may-
est remember of what thou art a part; and that
of thy neighbour, that thou mayest know
whether he has acted ignorantly or with
knowledge, and that thou mayest also con-
sider that his ruling faculty is akin to thine.

23. As thou thyself art a component part of
a social system, so let every act of thine be a
component part of social life. Whatever act of
thine then has no reference either immediately
or remotely to a social end, this tears asunder
thy life, and does not allow it to be one, and it
is of the nature of a mutiny, just as when in a
popular assembly a man acting by himself
stands apart from the general agreement.

24. Quarrels of little children and their
sports, and poor spirits carrying about dead
bodies, such is everything; and so what is ex-
hibited in the representation of the mansions
of the dead strikes our eyes more clearly.

25. Examine into the quality of the form of
an object, and detach it altogether from its ma-
terial part, and then contemplate it; then de-
termine the time, the longest which a thing of
this [x:culiar form is naturally made to endure.

26. Thou hast endured infinite troubles
through not being contented with thy rul-
ing faculty, when it docs the things which it is
constituted by nature to do. But enough of
this.

27. When another blames thee or hates thee,
or when men say about thee anything injuri-
ous, approach their poor souls, penetrate with-
in, and sec what kind of men they arc. Thou
wilt discover that there is no reason to take
any trouble that these men may have this or
that opinion about thee. However thou must
be well disposed towards them, for by nature
they arc friends. And the gods too aid them
in all ways, by dreams, by signs, towards the
attainment of those things on which they set a
value.

28. The periodic movements of the universe
are the same, up and dcu^n from age to age.
And cither the universal intelligence puts itself
in motion for every separate effect, and if this

MEDITATIONS. BOOK IX
or

294

is so, be thou content with that which is the re-
sult of its activity; or it puts itself in motion
once, and everything else comes by way of se-
quence in a manner; or indivisible elements
arc the origin of all things. — In a word, if
there is a god, all is well; and if chance rules,
do not thou also be governed by it.

Soon will the earth cover us all: then the
earth, too, will change, and the things also
which result from change will continue to
change for ever, and these again for ever. For
if a man reflects on the changes and transfor-
mations which follow one another like wave
after wave and their rapidity, he will despise
everything which is perishable.

29. The universal cause is like a winter tor-
rent: it carries everything along with it. But
how worthless arc all these poor people who
are engaged in matters political, and, as they
sup|)ose, are playing the philosopher! All driv-
ellers. Well then, man: do what nature now
requires. Set thyself in motion, if it is in thy
power, and do not look about thee to see if any
one will observe it; nor yet expect Plato’s
public: but be content if the smallest thing
goes on well, and consider such an event to be
no small matter. For who can change men’s
opinions? And without a change of opinions
what else is there than the slavery of men who
groan while they pretend to obey? Come now
and tell me of Alexander and Philip and De-
metrius of Phalerum. They themselves shall
judge whether they discovered what the com-
mon nature required, and trained themselves
accordingly. But if they acted like tragedy
heroes, no one has condemned me to imitate
them. Simple and modest is the work of phi-
losophy. Draw me not aside to indolence and
pride.

30. Look down from above on the countless
herds of men and their countless solemnities,
and the infinitely varied voyagings in storms
and calms, and the differences a^nong those
who arc born, who live together, and die. And
consider, too, the life lived by others in olden
lime, and the life of those who will live after
thee, and the life now lived among barbarous
nations, and how many know not even thy
name, and how many will soon forget it, and
how they who perhaps now are praising thee
will very soon blame thee, and that neither a

2S-36

posthumous name is of any value, nor reputa-
tion, nor anything else.

31. Let there be freedom from perturbations
with respect to the things which come from
the external cause; and let there be justice in
the things done by virtue of the internal cause,
that is, let there be movement and action ter-
minating in this, in social acts, for this is ac-
cording to thy nature.

32. Thou canst remove out of the way many
useless things among tliose which disturb thee,
for they lie entirely in thy opinion; and thou
w'ilt then gain for tliyself ample space by com-
prehending the whole universe in thy mind,
and by contemplating the eternity of time,
and observing the rapid change of every sev-
eral thing, how short is the time from birth to
dissolution, and the illimitable time before
birth as well as the equally boundless lime
after dissolution.

33. All that thou seest will quickly perish,
and those who have been s|X‘ctators of its dis-
solution will very soon perish too. And he who
dies at the extrernest old age will be brought
into the same condition with him who died
prematurely.

34. What arc these men’s leading principles,
and about what kind of things arc they busy,
and for what kind of reasons do they love and
honour? Im.igine that thou seest their poor
souls laid bare. When they think that they do
harm by their blame or good by their praise,
what an idea!

35. Loss is nothing else than change. But the
universal nature delights in change, and in
obedience to her all things are now done well,
and from eternity have been done in like form,
and will be such to time without end. What,
then, dost thou say? I'hat all things have been
and all things always will be bad, and that
no power has ever been found in so many
gods to rectify these things, but the world has
been condemned to be found in never ceas-
ing evil ?

36. The rottenness of the matter which is the
foundation of everything! Water, dust, bones,
filth: or again, marble rocks, the callosities of
the earth; and gold and silver, the sediments;
and garments, only bits of hair; and purple
dye, blood; and everything else is of the same
kind. And that which is of the nature of breath

MARCUS AURELIUS

36-42

is also another thing of the same kind, chang>
ing from this to that.

37. Enough of this wretched life and mur-
muring and apish tricks. Why art thou dis-
turbed? What is there new in this? What un-
settles thee? Is it the form of the thing? Look
at it. Or is it the matter? Look at it. But be-
sides these there is nothing. Towards the gods,
then, now become at last more simple and bet-
ter. It is the same whether we examine these
things for a hundred years or three.

38. If any man has done wrong, the harm is
his own. But perhaps he has not done wrong.

39. Either all things proceed from one in-
telligent source and come together as in one
body, and the part ought not to find fault with
what is done for the benefit of the whole; or
there are only atoms, and nothing else than
mixture and dispersion. Why, then, art thou
disturbed? Say to the ruling faculty, Art thou
dead, art thou corrupted, art thou playing the
hypocrite, art I’^nu become a licast, dost thou
herd and feed with the rest?

40. Either the gods have no power or they
have power. If, then, they have no power, why
dost thou pray to them? But if they have pow-
er, why dost thou not pray for them to give
thee the faculty of not fearing any of the
things which thou fearcst, or of not desiring
any of the things which thou desirest, or not
being pained at anything, rather than pray
that any of these things should not hapjien or
happen? for certainly if they can co-operate
with men, they can co-operate for these pur-
poses. But perhaps thou wilt say, the gods
have placed them in thy power. Well, then, is
it not better to use what is in thy power like a
free man than to desire in a slavish and abject
way what is not in thy power? And who has
told thee that the gods do not aid us even in
the things which are in our power? Begin,
then, to pray for such things, and thou wilt
see. One man prays thus: How shall I be able
to lie with that woman? Do thou pray thus:
How shall I not desire to lie with her? An-
other prays thus: How shall I be released from
this? Another prays: How shall I not desire to
be released? Another thus; How shall I not
lose my little son.^ Thou thus; How shall I
not be afraid to lose him? In fine, turn thy
prayers this way, and see what comes.

295

41. Epicurus says, In my sickness my con-
versation was not about my bodily sufferings,
nor, says he, did I talk on such subjects to those
who visited me; but I continued to discourse
on the nature of things as before, keeping to
this main point, how the mind, while partic-
ipating in such movements as go on in the
poor flesh, shall be free from perturbations and
maintain its proper good. Nor did I, he says,
give the physicians an opportunity of putting
on solemn looks, as if they were doing some-
thing great, but my life went on well and hap-
pily. Do, then, the same that he did both in
sickness, if thou art sick, and in any other cir-
cumstances; for never to desert philosophy in
any events that may befall us, nor to hold
trifling talk either with an ignorant man or
with one unacquainted with nature, is a prin-
ciple of all schools of philosophy; but to be in-
tent only on that which thou art now doing
and on the instrument by which thou doest it.

42. When thou art offended with any man’s
shameless conduct, immediately ask thyself, Is
it possible, then, that shameless men should
not be in the world ? It is not possible. Do not,
then, require what is impossible. For this man
also is one of those shameless men who must
of necessity be in the world. Let the same con-
siderations be present to thy mind in the case
of the knave, and the faithless man, and of
every man who does wrong in any way. For
at the same time that thou dost remind thyself
that it is impossible that such kind of men
should not exist, thou wilt become more kindly
disjx)scd towards every one individually. It is
useful to perceive this, too, immediately when
the occasion arises, what virtue nature has giv-
en to man to oppose to every wrongful act.
For she has given to man, as an antidote
against the stupid man, mildness, and against
another kind of man some other power. And
in all cases it is possible for thee to correct by
teaching the man who is gone astray; for every
man who errs misses his object and is gone
astray. Besides wherein hast thou been injured?
For thou wilt find that no one among those
against whom thou art irritated has done any-
thing by which thy mind could be made
worse; but that which is^il to thee and harm-
ful has its foundation only in the mind. And
what harm is done or what is there strange, if

MEDITATIONS, BOOK IX

296 MARCUS

the man who has not been instructed does the
acts of an uninstructed man? Consider wheth-
er thou shouldst not rather blame thyself, be-
cause thou didst not expect such a man to err
in such a way. For thou hadst means given
thee by thy reason to suppose that it was likely
that he would commit this error, and yet thou
hast forgotten and art amazed that he has
erred. But most of all when thou blamest a
man as faithless or ungrateful, turn to thyself.
For the fault is manifestly thy own, whether
thou didst trust that a man who had such a
disposition would keep his promise, or when
conferring thy kindness thou didst not confer
it absolutely, nor yet in such way as to have rc-

AUREUUS /-5

ceived from thy very act all the profit. For
what more dost thou want when thou hast done
a man a service? Art thou not content that
thou hast done something conformable to thy
nature, and dost thou seek to be paid for it?
Just as if the eye demanded a recompense for
seeing, or the feet for walking. For as these
members are formed for a particular purpose,
and by working according to their several con-
stitutions obtain what is their own; so also as
man is formed by nature to acts of benevo-
lence, when he has done anything benevolent
or in any other way conducive to the common
interest, he has acted conformably to his con-
stitution, and he gets what is his own.

•BOOK TEN

Wilt thou, then, my soul, never be good and
simple and one and naked, more manifest
than the body which surrounds thee? Wilt
thou never enjoy an affectionate and contented
disposition? Wilt thou never be full and with-
out a want of any kind, longing for nothing
more, nor desiring anything, cither animate or
inanimate, for the enjoyment of pleasures?
Nor yet desiring time wherein thou shalt have
longer enjoyment, or place, or pleasant climate,
or society of men with whom thou'mayest
live in harmony? But wilt thou be satisfied
with thy present condition, and pleased with
all that is about thee, and wilt thou convince
thyself that thou hast everything and that it
comes from the gods, that everything is well
for thee, and will be well whatever shall please
them, and whatever they shall give for the
conservation of the perfect living being, the
good and just and beautiful, which generates
and holds together all things, and contains
and embraces all things which are dissolved
for the production of other like things? Wilt
thou never be such that thou shalt so dwell in
community with gods and men as neither to
find fault with them at all, nor to be con-
demned by them?

2. Observe what thy nature requires, so far
as thou art governed by nature only: then do
it and accept it, if thy nature, so far as thou art
a living being, shall not be made worse by it*

And next thou must observe what thy nature
requires so far as thou art a living being. And
all this thou mayest allow thyself, if thy na-
ture, so far as thou art a rational animal, shall
not be made worse by it. But the rational ani-
mal is consequently also a political (social)
animal. Use these rules, then, and trouble thy-
self about nothing else.

3. Everything which hjppcns cither happens
in such wise as thou art formed by nature to
bear it, or as thou art not formed by nature to
bear it. If, then, it happens to thee in such
way as thou art formed by nature to bear it,
do not complain, but bear it as thou art formed
by nature to bear it. But if it happens in such
wise as thou art not formed by nature to bear
it, do not complain, for it will perish after it
has consumed thee. Remember, however, that
thou art formed by nature to bear everything,
with respect to which it depends on thy own
opinion to make it endurable and tolerable, by
thinking that it is cither diy interest or thy
duty to do this.

4. If a man is mistaken, instruct him kindly
and show him his error. But if thou art not
able, blame thyself, or blame not even thyself.

5. Whatever may happed to thee, it was pre-
pared for thee from all eternity; and the im-
plication of causes was from eternity spinning
the thread of thy being, and of that which is
incident to it.

6-8

6. Whether the universe is a concourse o£
atoms, or nature is a system, let this first be
established, that 1 am a part of the whole
which is governed by nature; next, I am in a
manner intimately related to the parts which
arc of the same kind with myself. For remem-
bering this, inasmuch as I am a part, I shall be
discontented with none of the things which
are assigned to me out of the whole; for noth-
ing is injurious to the part, if it is for the ad-
vantage of the whole. For the whole contains
nothing which is not for its advantage; and all
natures indeed have this common principle,
but the nature of the universe has this prin-
ciple besides, that it cannot be comjjclled even
by any external cause to generate anything
harmful to itself. By remembering, then, that
I am a part of such a whole, I shall be content
with everything that happens. And inasmuch
as I am in a manner intimately related to the
parts which arc of the same kind with my-
self, I shall d:> nothing unsocial, but I shall
rather direct myself to the things which arc of
the same kind with myself, and I shall turn all
my efforts to the common interest, and divert
them from the contrary. Now, if these things
are done so, life must How on happily, just as
thou mayest observe that the life of a citizen is
happy, who continues a course of action which
is advantageous to his fellow-citizens, and is
content with whatever the state may assign to
him.

7. The parts of the whole, everything, I
mean, which is naturally comprehended in the
universe, must of necessity perish; but let this
be understood in this sense, that they must un-
dergo change. But if this is naturally both an
evil and a necessity for the parts, the whole
would not continue to exist in a good condi-
tion, the parts being subject to change and con-
stituted so as to perish in various ways. For
whether did nature herself design to do evil
to the things which are parts of herself, and to
make them subject to evil and of necessity fall
into evil, or have such results happened with-
out her knowing it? Both these suppositions,
indeed, are incredible. But if a man should
even drop the term Nature (as an efficient
power), and should speak of these things as
natural, even then it would be ridiculous to
affirm at the same time that the parts of the

297

whole are in their nature subject to change,
and at the same time to be surprised or vexed
as if something were happening contrary to
nature, particularly as the dissolution of things
is into those things of which each thing is com-
posed. For there is either a dispersion of the
elements out of which everything has been
compounded, or a change from the solid to the
earthy and from the airy to the aerial, so that
these parts are taken back into the universal
reason, whether this at certain periods is con-
sumed by fire or renewed by eternal changes.
And do not imagine that the solid and the airy
part belong to thee from the time of genera-
tion. For all this received its accretion only
yesterday and the day before, as one may say,
from the food and the air which is inspired.
This, then, which has received the accretion,
changes, not that which thy mother brought
forth. But suppose that this which thy mother
brought forth implicates thee very much with
that other part, which has the peculiar quality
of change, this is nothing in fact in the way of
objection to what is said.

8, When thou hast assumed these names,
good, modest, true, rational, a man of equa-
nimity, and magnanimous, take care that thou
dost not change these names; and if thou
shouldst lose them, quickly return to them.
And remember that the term Rational was in-
tended to signify a discriminating attention to
every several thing and freedom from neg-
ligence; and that Equanimity is the voluntary
acceptance of the things which are assigned to
thee by the common nature; and that Mag-
nanimity is the elevation of the intelligent part
above the pleasurable or painful sensations of
the flesh, and above that poor thing called
fame, and death, and all such things. If, then,
thou maintaincst thyself in the possession of
these names, without desiring to be called by
these names by others, thou wilt be another
person and wilt enter on another life. For to
continue to be such as thou hast hitherto been,
and to be torn in pieces and defiled in such a
life, is the character of a very stupid man and
one overfond of his life, and like those half-
devoured fighters with ^wild beasts, who
though covered with wounds and gore, still in-
treat to be kept to the following day, though
they will be exposed in the same state to the

MEDITATIONS, BOOK X

298

same claws and bites. Therefore fix thyself in
the possession of these few names: and if thou
art able to abide in them, abide as if thou wast
removed to certain islands of the Happy. But
if thou shalt perceive that thou fallcst out of
them and dost not maintain thy hold, go cou-
rageously into some nook where thou shalt
maintain them, or even depart at once from
life, not in passion, but with simplicity and
freedom and modesty, after doing this one
laudable thing at least in thy life, to have gone
out of it thus. In order, however, to the re-
membrance of these names, it will greatly help
thee, if thou rememberest the gods, and that
they wish not to be flattered, but wish all rea-
sonable beings to be made like themselves; and
if thou rememberest that what does the work
of a fig-tree is a fig-tree, and that what does
the work of a dog is a dog, and that what does
the work of a bee is a bee, and that what does
the work of a man is a man.

9. Mimi,^ war, astonishment, torpor, slavery,
will daily wipe out those holy principles of
thine. How many things without studying na-
ture dost thou imagine, and how many dost
thou neglect.^ But it is thy duty so to look on
and so to do everything, that at the same time
the power of dealing with circumstances is
perfected, and the contemplative faculty is ex-
ercised, and the confidence which comes from
the knowledge of each several thing Is main-
tained without showing it, but yet not con-
cealed. For when wilt thou enjoy simplicity,
when gravity, and w'hen the knowledge of
every several thing, both what it is in sub-
stance, and what place it has in the universe,
and how long it is formed to exist and of what
things it is compounded, and to whom it can
belong, and who are able both to give it and
take it away?

10. A spider is proud when it has caught a
fly, and another when he has caught a poor
hare, and another when he has taken a little
fish in a net, and anotiier when he has taken
wild boars, and another when he has taken
bears, and another when he has taken Sar-
matians. Are not these robbers, if thou exam-
incst their opinions?

n. Acquire the contemplative way of seeing
how all things change into one another, and

^ A kind of Roman stage play.

8-14

constantly attend to it, and exercise thyself
about this part of philosophy. For nothing is
so much adapted to produce magnanimity.
Such a man has put off the body, and as he secs
that he must, no one knows how soon, go
away from among men and leave everything
here, he gives himself up entirely to just do-
ing in all his actions, and in everything else
that happens he resigns himself to the uni-
versal nature. But as to what any man shall
say or think about him or do against him, he
never even thinks of it, being himself con-
tented with these two things, with acting just-
ly in what he now docs, and being satisfied
with what is now assigned to him; and he
lays aside all distracting and busy pursuits,
and desires nothing else than to accomplish
the straight course through the law, and by
accomplishing the straight course to follow
God.

12. What need is there of suspicious fear,
since it is in thy power to inquire what ought
to be done? And if thou scest clear, go by this
way content, without turning back: but if thou
dost not see clear, stop anti take the best ad-
visers. But if any other things oppose thee, go
on according to thy jK)wers with due consider-
ation, keeping to that which apjx’ars to be just.
For it is best to reach tWs object, and if thou
dost fail, let thy failure lx; in attempting this.
He who follows reason in all things is both
tranquil and active at the same time, and also
cheerful and collected.

13. Inquire of thyself as soon as thou wakest
from sleep, whether it will make any differ-
ence to thee, if another docs what is just and
right. It will make no difference.

Thou hast not forgotten, I suppose, that
those who assume arrogant airs in bestowing
their praise or blame on others, are such as
they are at bed and at board, and thou hast not
forgotten what they do, and what they avoid
and what they pursue, and how they steal and
how they rob, not with hands and feet, but
with their most valuable pan, by means of
which there is produced, when a man chooses,
fidelity, modesty, truth, law, a good daemon
(happiness)?

14. To her who gives and takes back all, to
nature, the man who is instructed and modest
says. Give what thou wilt; take back what

MARCUS AURELIUS

j 4“28

thou wilt. And he says this not proudly, but
obediently and well pleased with her.

15. Short is the little which remains to thee
of life. Live as on a mountain. For it makes no
difference whether a man lives there or here,
if he lives everywhere in the world as in a
state (political community). Let men see, let
them know a real man who lives according to
nature. If they cannot endure him, let them
kill him. For that is better than to live thus
as men do.

16. No longer talk at all about the kind
of man that a good man ought to be, but be
such.

17. Constantly contemplate the whole of
lime and the whole of substance, and consider
that all individual things as to substance are
a grain of a fig, and as to time, the turning of
a gimlet.

18. Look at everything that exists, and ob-
serve that it is already in dissolution and in
change, and a . were putrefaction or disper-
sion, or that everything is so constituted by
nature as to die.

19. Consider what men are when they are
eating, sleeping, generating, easing themselves
and so forth. Then what kind of men they
are when they arc imperious and arrogant, or
angry and scolding from their elevated place.
But a short time ago to how many they were
slaves and for what things; and after a little
time consider in what a conilition they will be.

20. That is for the good of each thing, which
the universal nature brings to each. And it is
for its good at the lime wdicn nature brings it.

21. “The earth loves the shower”; and “the
solemn aether loves”*: and the universe loves
to make whatever is about to be. I say then to
the universe, that I love as thou lovest. And is
not this too said, that “this or that loves (is
wont) to be produced”.?

22. Either thou livest here and hast already
accustomed thyself to it, or thou art going
away, and this was thy own will; or thou art
dying and hast discharged thy duty. But !*>€-
sides these things there is nothing. Be of good
cheer, then.

23. Let this always be plain to thee, that this
piece of land is like any other; and that all
things here arc the same with things on the

* Euripides, fragment.

299

top of a mountain, or on the sea-shore, or
wherever thou choosest to be. For thou wilt
find just what Plato says, Dwelling within the
walls of a city as in a shepherd’s fold on a
mountain.*

24. What is my ruling faculty now to me?
And of what nature am I now making it? And
for what purpose am I now using it? Is it void
of understanding? Is it loosed and rent asun-
der from social life? Is it melted into and
mixed with the poor flesh so as to move to-
gether with it?

25. He who flics from his master is a run-
away; but the law is master, and he who
breaks the law is a runaway. And he also who
is grieved or angry or afraid, is dissatisfied be-
cause something has been or is or shall be of
the things which are appointed by him who
rules all thmgs, and he is Law, and assigns to
every man what is fit. He then who fears or is
grieved or is angry is a runaway.

26. A man deposits seed in a womb and
goes away, and then another cause takes it,
and labours on it and makes a child. What a
thing from such a material! Again, the child
passes food dowm through the throat, and
then another cause takes it and makes percep-
tion and motion, and in fine life and strength
and other things; how many and how strange!
Observe then the things w'hich arc produced
in such a hidden way, and see the power Just
as we sec tlic power which carries things
downwards and upwards, not with the eyes,
but still no less plainly.

27. Cons*^anlly consider how all things such
as they now arc, in time past also were; and
consider that they will be the same again. And
place before thy eyes entire dramas and stages
of the same form, whatever thou hast learned
from thy experience or from older history; for
example, the whole court of Hadrian, and the
whole court of Antoninus, and the whole
court of Philip, Alexander, Croesus; for all
those were such dramas as w'c see now, only
with different actors.

28. Imagine every man who is grieved at
anything or discontented to be like a pig w'hich
is sacrificed and kicks and screams.

Like this pig also is he who on his bed in
silence laments the bonds in which wc arc

■ Cf. Thextetust 174.

MEDITATIONS. BOOK X

300

held. And consider that only to the rational
animal is it given to follow voluntarily what
happens; but simply to follow is a necessity
imposed on all.

29. Severally on the occasion of everything
that thou doest) pause and ask thyself^ if death
is a dreadful thing because it deprives thee of
this.

30. When thou art offended at any man’s
faulty forthwith turn to thyself and reflect in
what like manner thou dost err thyself; for
example, in thinking that money is a good
thing, or pleasure, or a bit of reputation, and
the like. For by attending to this thou wilt
quickly forget thy anger, if this consideration
also is added, that the man is compelled: for
what else could he do? or, if thou art able,
take away from him the compulsion.

31. When thou hast seen Satyron the So-
cratic, think of either Eutyches or Hymen,
and when thou hast seen Euphrates, think of
Eutychion or Silvanus, and when thou hast
seen Alciphron think of Tropaeophorus, and
when thou hast seen Xenophon think of Crito
or Severus, and when thou hast looked on thy-
self, think of any other Cxsar, and in the case
of every one do in like manner. Then let this
thought be in thy mind, Where then are those
men? Nowhere, or nobody knows where. For
thus continuously thou wilt look at human
things as smoke and nothing at all; e^ecially
if thou reflectest at the. same time that what
has once changed will never exist again in the
infinite duration of time. But thou, in what a
brief space of time is thy existence? And why
art thou not content to pass through this short
time in an orderly way? What matter and
opportunity for thy activity art thou avoiding?
For what else are all these things, except ex-
ercises for the reason, when it has viewed care-
fully and by examination into their nature the
things which happen in life? Persevere then
until thou shall have made these things thy
own, as the stomach which is strengthened
makes all things its own, as the blazing fire
makes flame and brightness out of everything
that is thrown into it.

32. Let it not be in any man’s power to say
truly of thee that thou art not simple or that
thou are not good; but let him be a liar who-
ever shall think anything of this kind about

2&~33

thee; and this is altogether in thy power. For
who is he that shall hinder thee from being
good and simple? Do thou only determine to
live no longer, unless thou shall be such. For
neither does reason allow thee to live, if thou
art not such.

33. What is that which as to this material
(our life) can be done or said in the way most
conformable to reason. For whatever this may
be, it is in thy power to do it or to say it, and
do not make excuses that thou art hindered.
Thou wilt not cease to lament till thy mind is
in such a condition that, what luxury is to
those who enjoy pleasure, such shall be to
thee, in the matter which is subjected and pre-
sented to thee, the doing of the things which
arc conformable to man’s constitution; for a
man ought to consider as an enjoyment every-
thing which it is in his power to do according
to his own nature. And it is in his power
everywhere. Now, it is not given to a cylinder
to move everywhere by its own motion, nor
yet to water nor to fire, nor to anything else
which is governed by nature or an irrational
soul, for the things which check them and
stand in the way arc many. But intelligence
and reason are able to go through everything
that opposes them, and in such manner as they
are formed by nature ’tmd as they choose.
Place before thy eyes this facility with which
the reason will be carried through all things,
as hre upwards, as a stone downwards, as a
cylinder down an inclined surface, and seek
for nothing further. For all other obstacles
cither affect the body only which is a dead
thing; or, except through opinion and the
yielding of the reason itself, they do not crush
nor do any harm of any kind; for if they did,
he who felt it would immediately become bad.
Now, in the case of all things which have a
certain constitution, whatever harm may hap-
pen to any of them, that v^hich is so affected
becomes consequently wonse; but in the like
case, a man becomes both better, if one may
say so, and more worthy of praise by making
a right use of these accidents. And finally re-
member that nothing harnis him who is really
a citizen, which does not harm the state; nor
yet does anything harm the state, which does
not harm law (order); and of these things
which are called misfortunes not one harms

MARCUS AUREUUS

33 - 3 ^

law. What then docs not harm law does not
harm either state or citizen.

34. To him who is penetrated by true prin-
ciples even the briefest precept is sufficient, and
any common precept, to remind him that he
should be free from grief and fear. For ex-
ample —

leaves, some the wind scatters on the ground —
So is the race of men,^

Leaves, also, are thy children; and leaves, too,
arc they who cry out as if they were worthy of
credit and bestow their praise, or on the con-
trary curse, or secretly blame and sneer; and
leaves, in like manner, are those who shall re-
ceive and transmit a man’s fame to after-
times. For all such things as these “are pro-
duced in the season of spring,” as the poet
says; then the wind casts them down; then the
forest produces other leaves in their places.
But a brief existence is common to all things,
and yet thou avoidcst and pursucst all things
as if they woiih! l>c eternal. A little time, and
thou shalt close thy eyes; and him who has at-
tended thee to thy grave another soon will
lament.

35. The healthy eye ought to sec all visible
things and not to say, I wish for green things;
for this is the condition of a diseased eye. And
the healthy hearing and smelling ought to be
ready to perceive all that can be heard and
smelled. And the healthy stomach ought to be
with respect to all food just as the mill with re-
spect to all things which it is formed to grind.
And accordingly the healthy understanding
ought to be prepared for everything which
happens; but that which says, I^t my dear
children live, and let all men praise whatever
I may do, is an eye which seeks for green
things, or teeth which seek for soft things.

36. There is no man so fortunate that there
shall not be by him when he is dying some
who are pleased with what is going to hap-
pen. Suppose that he w^as a good and wise
man, will there not be at last some one to say

^ Homer, lUad^ vi. 147.

301

to himself, Let us at last breathe freely being
relieved from this schoolmaster? It is true that
he was harsh to none of us, but I perceived
that he tacitly condemns us. — ^This is what is
said of a good man. But in our own case how
many other things arc there for which there
arc many who wish to get rid of us. Thou wilt
consider this then when thou art dying, and
thou wilt depart more contentedly by reflecting
thus: I am going away from such a life, in
which even my associates in behalf of whom
I have striven so much, prayed, and cared,
themselves wish me to depart, hoping per-
chance to get some little advantage by it. Why
then should a man cling to a longer stay here?
Do not however for this reason go away less
kindly disposed to them, but preserving thy
own character, and friendly and benevolent
and mild, and on the other hand not as if
thou wast torn away; but as when a man dies
a quiet death, the poor soul is easily separated
from the body, such also ought thy departure
from men to be, for nature united thee to them
and associated thee. But docs she now dis-
solve the union? Well, I am separated as from
kinsmen, not however dragged resisting, but
without compulsion; for this too is one of the
things according to nature.

37. Accustom thyself as much as possible on
the occasion of anything being done by any
person to inquire with thyself. For what ob-
ject is this man doing this? But begin with
thyself, and examine thyself first.

38. Remember that this which pulls the
strings is the thing which is hidden within:
this is the power of persuasion, this is life, this,
if one may so say, is man. In contemplating
thyself never include the vessel which sur-
rounds thee and these instruments which arc
attached about it. For they are like to an axe,
differing only in this that they grow to the
body. For indeed there is no more use in these
parts without the cause which moves and
checks them than in the weaver’s shuttle, and
the writer’s pen and the driver’s whip.

MEDITATIONS, BOOK X

302

MARCUS AURELIUS

j-6

BOOK ELEVEN

These are the properties of the rational soul:
it sees itself, analyses itself, and makes itself
such as it chooses; the fruit which it bears it-
self enjoys — for the fruits of plants and that in
animals which corresponds to fruits others en-
joy — it obtains its own end, wherever the limit
of life may be fixed. Not as in a dance and in
a play and in such like things, where the
whole action is incomplete, if anything cuts it
short; but in every part and wherever it may
be stopped, it makes what has been set before
it full and complete, so that it can say, I have
what is my own. And further it traverses the
whole universe, and the surrounding vacuum,
and surveys its form, and it extends itself into
the infinity of time, and embraces and com-
prehends the periodical renovation of all
things, and it comprehends that those who
come after us will sec nothing new, nor have
those before us seen anything more, but in a
manner he who is forty years old, if he has any
understanding at all, has seen by virtue of the
uniformity that prevails all things which have
been and all that will be. This too is a prop-
erty of the rational soul, love of one’s^ neigh-
bour, and truth and modesty, and to value
nothing more than itsdf, w'hich is also the
property of Law. Thus then right reason dif-
fers not at all from the reason of justice.

2. Thou wilt set little value on pleasing
song and dancing and the pancratium, if thou
wilt distribute the melody of the voice into its
several sounds, and ask thyself as to each, if
thou art mastered by this; for thou wilt be pre-
vented by shame from confessing it: and in
the matter of dancing, if at each movement
and attitude thou wilt do the same; and the
like also in the matter of the patlcratium. In
all things, then, except virtue and the acts of
virtue, remember to apply thyself to their sev-
eral parts, and by this division to come to
value them little: and apply this rule also to
thy whole life.

3. What a soul that is which is ready, if at
any moment it must be separated from the
body, and ready either to be extinguished or

dispersed or continue to exist; but so that this
readiness comes from a man’s own judgement,
not from mere obstinacy, as with the Chris-
tians,' but considerately and with dignity and
in a way to persuade another, without tragic
show.

4. Have I done something for the general in-
terest? Well then I have had my reward. Let
this always be present to thy mind, and never
stop doing such good.

5. What is thy art? To be good. And how is
this accomplished well except by general prin-
ciples, some about the nature of the universe,
and others about the proper constitution of
man?

6. At first tragedies were brought on the
stage as means of reminding men of the things
which happen to them, and that it is accord-
ing to nature for things to happen so, and that,
if you are delighted with what is shown on the
stage, you should not be troubled with that
which takes place on the larger stage. For you
sec that these things must be accomplished
thus, and that even thcy^K'ar them who cry
out “O Cithacron.”^ And, indeed, some things
are said well by the dramatic writers, of which
kind is the following especially; —

Me and my children if the gods neglect.

This has its reason too?

And again —

We must not chafe and fret at that which happens.
And —

IJfe*s harvest reap lil^e the wheat's fruitful ear.
And other things of the same kind.

After tragedy the old comedy was intro-
duced, which had a magisterial freedom of
speech, and by its very plainness of speaking
was useful in reminding men to beware of in-
solence; and for this purpose too Diogenes
used to take from these writers.

But as to the middle comedy which came
next, observe what it was, and again, for what
object the new comedy was introduced, which

^ Reference to Christians is possibly a later gloss.

*Sophfx:lcs, Oedtpus ihe King, 1391.

* Euripides, fragments.

6-is

gradually sunk down into a mere mimic arti-
fice. That some good things arc said even by
these writers, everybody knows: but the whole
plan of such poetry and dramaturgy, to what
end docs it look!

7. How plain docs it appear that there is not
another condition of life so well suited for
philosophising as this in which thou now hap-
penest to be.

8. A branch cut off from the adjacent branch
must of necessity be cut off from the whole
tree also. So too a man when he is separated
from another man has fallen off from the
whole social community. Now as to a branch,
another cuts it off, hut a man by his own act
separates himself from his neighbour when he
hates him and turns away from him, and he
docs not know that he has at the same time
cut himself off from the whole social system.
Yet he has this privilege certainly from Zeus
who framed society, for it is in our power to
grow again .lut which is near to us, and
again to become a part which helps to make
up the whole. However, if it often happens,
this kind of separation, it makes it difficult for
that which detaches itself to lx: brought to uni-
ty and to be restored to its former condition.
Finally, the branch, which from the first grew
together with the tree, and has continued to
have one life with it, is not like that which
after lx:ing cut off is then ingrafted, for this is
something like what the gardeners mean when
they say that it grows with the rest of the tree,
but that it has not the same mind with it.

9. As those who try to stand in thy way when
thou art proceeding according to right reason,
will not be able to turn thee aside from thy
proper action, so neither let them drive thee
from thy benevolent feelings towards them,
but be on thy guard equally in both matters,
not only in the matter of steady judgement
and action, but also in the matter of gentleness
towards those who try to hinder or otherwise
trouble thee. For this also is a weakness, to be
vexed at them, as well as to be diverted from
thy course of action and to give way through
fear; for both are equally deserters from their
post, the man who does it through fear, and
the man who is alienated from him who is by
nature a kinsman and a friend.

10. There is no nature which is inferior to

303

art, for the arts imitate the nature of things.
But if this is so, that nature which is the most
perfect and the most comprehensive of all na-
tures, cannot fall short of the skill of art. Now
all arts do the inferior things for the sake of
the superior; therefore the universal nature
docs so too. And, indeed, hence is the origin
of justice, and in justice the other virtues have
their foundation: for justice will not be ob-
served, if we either care for middle things
(things indifferent), or are easily deceived and
careless and changeable.

11. If the things do not come to thee, the
pursuits and avoidances of which disturb thee,
still in a manner thou goest to them. Let then
thy judgement about them be at rest, and they
will remain quiet, and thou wilt not be seen
either pursuing or avoiding.

12. The spherical form of the soul maintains
its figure, when it is neither extended towards
any object, nor contracted inwards, nor dis-
persed nor sinks down, but is illuminated by
light, by which it sees the truth, the truth of
all things and the truth that is in itself.

13. Suppose any man shall despise me. Let
him look to that himself. But I will look to
this, that I be not discovered doing or saying
anything deserving of contempt. Shall any
man hate me? Let him look to it. But I will
be mild and benevolent towards every man,
and ready to show even him his mistake, not
reproachfull), nor yet as making a display of
my endurance, but nobly and honestly, like
the great Phocion, unless indeed he only as-
sumed it. For the interior parts ought to be
such, and a man ought to be seen by the gods
neither dissatisfied with anything nor com-
plaining. For what evil is it to thee, if thou art
now doing what is agreeable to thy own na-
ture, and art satisfied with that which at this
moment is suitable to the nature of the uni-
verse, since thou art a human being placed at
thy post in order that w'hat is for the common
advantage may be done in some way?

14. Men despise one another and flatter one

another; and men wish to raise themselves
above one another, and crouch before one an-
other. ^

15. How unsound and '^Insincere is he who
says, I have determined to deal with thee in a
fair way. — What art thou doing, man? There

MEDITATIONS, BOOK XI

304 MARCUS AURELIUS /w«

is no occasion to give this notice. It will soon
show itself by acts. The voice ought to be
plainly written on the forehead. Such as a
man’s character is, he immediately shows it in
his eyes, just as he who is beloved forthwith
reads everything in the eyes of lovers. The man
who is honest and good ought to be exactly
like a man who smells strong, so that the by-
stander as soon as he comes near him must
smell whether he choose or not. But the affec-
tation of simplicity is like a crooked stick.
Nothing is more disgraceful than a wolfish
friendship (false friendship). Avoid this most
of all. The good and simple and benevolent
show all these things in the eyes, and there is
no mistaking.

16. As to living in the best way, this power
is in the soul, if it be indifferent to things
which arc indifferent. And it will be indiffer-
ent, if it looks on each of these things sepa-
rately and all together, and if it remembers
that not one of them produces in us an opin-
ion about itself, nor comes to us; but these
things remain immovable, and it is we our-
selves who produce the judgements about
them, and, as we may say, write them in our-
selves, it being in our power not to write them,
and it being in our power, if perchance these
judgements have imperceptibly got admission
to our minds, to wipe them out; and if we re-
member also that such attention will only be
for a short time, and then life will be at an
end. Besides, what trouble is there at all in do-
ing this? For if these things arc according to
nature, rejoice in them, and they will be easy
to thee: but if contrary to nature, seek what is
conformable to thy own nature, and strive to-
wards this, even if it bring no reputation; for
every man is allowed to seek his own good.

17. Consider whence each thing is come,
and of what it consists, and into what it
changes, and what kind of a thing it will be
when it has changed, and that ft will sustain
no harm.

18. If any have offended against thee, con-
sider first: What is my relation to men, and
that wc are made for one another; and in an-
other respect, I was made to be set over them,
as a ram over the flock or a bull over the herd.
But examine the matter from first principles,
from this: If all things are not mere atoms, it

is nature which orders all things; if this is so,
the inferior things exist for the sake of the
superior, and these for the sake of one another.

Second, consider what kind of men they are
at table, in bed, and so forth: and particularly,
under what compulsions in respect of opinions
they are; and as to their acts, consider with
what pride they do what they do.

Third, that if men do rightly what they do,
wc ought not to be displeased; but if they do
not right, it is plain that they do so involun-
tarily and in ignorance. For as every soul is un-
willingly deprived of the truth, so also is it
unwillingly deprived of the power of behaving
to each man according to his deserts. Accord-
ingly men are pained when they are called un-
just, ungrateful, and greedy, and in a word
wrong-doers to their neighbours.

Fourth, consider that thou also doest many
things wrong, and that thou art a man like
others; and even if thou dost abstain from cer-
tain faults, still thou hast the disposition to
commit them, though either through coward-
ice, or concern about reputation, or some such
mean motive, thou dost abstain from such
faults.

Fifth, consider that thou dost not even un-
derstand whether men are doing wrong or not,
for many things are done with a certain ref-
erence to circumstances. And in short, a man
must learn a great deal to enable him to pass a
correct judgement on another man’s acts.

Sixth, consider when thou art much vexed
or grieved, that man’s life is only a moment,
and after a short time wc are all laid out dead.

Seventh, that it is not men’s acts which dis-
turb us, for those acts have their foundation in
men’s ruling principles, but it is our own opin-
ions which disturb us. Take away these opin-
ions then, and resolve to dismiss thy judge-
ment about an act as if it were something
grievous, and thy anger is gone. How then
shall I take away these opkiions? By reflecting
that no wrongful act of another brings shame
on thee: for unless that which is shameful is
alone bad, thou also must of necessity do many
things wrong, and become a robber and every-
thing else.

Eighth, consider how much more pain is
brought on us by the anger and vexation
caus^ by such acts than by the acts them-

jS-2I

selves, at which we arc angry and vexed.

Ninth, consider that a good disposition is in-
vincible, if it be genuine, and not an affected
smile and acting a part. For what will the most
violent man do to thee, if thou continuest to
be of a kind disposition towards him, and if,
as opportunity offers, thou gently admonish-
est him and calmly correctest his errors at the
very time when he is trying to do thee harm,
saying, Not so, my child: we are constituted
by nature for something else: I shall certainly
not be injured, but thou art injuring thyself,
my child. — And show him with gentle tact
and by general principles that this is so, and
that even bees do not do as he does, nor any
animals which arc formed by nature to be gre-
garious. And thou must do this neither with
any double meaning nor in the way of re-
proach, but affectionately and without any
rancour in thy soul; and not as if thou wcrt
lecturing him, nor yet that any bystander may
admire, but -pitl when he is alone, and if
others arc present . . .

Rememlxjr these nine rules, as if thou hadst
received them as a gift from the Muses, and
begin at last to be a man while thou livest. Rut
thou must equally avoid flattering men and be-
ing vexed at them, for both are unsocial and
lead to harm. And let this truth be present to
thee in the excitement of anger, that to be
moved by passion is not manly, but that mild-
ness and gentleness, as they are more agree-
able to human nature, so also arc they more
manly; and he who possesses these qualities
possesses strength, nerves and courage, and not
the man who is subject to fits of passion and
discontent. For in the same degree in which a
man’s mind is nearer to freedom from all pas-
sion, in the same degree also is it nearer to
strength: and as the sense of pain is a char-
acteristic of weakness, so also is anger. For he
who yields to pain and he who yields to anger,
both are wounded and both submit.

But if thou wilt, receive also a tenth present
from the leader of the Muses (Apollo), and it
is this — that to ex{)ect bad men not to do
wrong is madness, for he who expects this
desires an impossibility. Rut to allow men
to behave so to others, and to expect them
not to do thee any wrong, is irrational and
tyrannical.

305

19. There are four principal aberrations of
the superior faculty against which thou
shouldst be constantly on thy guard, and when
thou hast detected them, thou shouldst wipe
them out and say on each occasion thus: this
thought is not necessary: this tends to destroy
social union: this which thou art going to say
comes not from the real thoughts; for thou
shouldst consider it among the most absurd of
things for a man not to speak from his real
thoughts. But the fourth is when thou shalt
reproach thyself for anything, for this is an
evidence of the diviner part within thee being
overpowered and yielding to the less honour-
able and to the perishable part, the body, and
to its gross pleasures.

20. Thy aerial part and all the fiery parts
which are mingled in thee, though by nature
they have an upward tendency, still in obedi-
ence to the disposition of the universe they are
overpowered here in the compound mass (the
body). And also the whole of the earthy part
in thee and the watery, though their tendency
is downward, still arc raised up and occupy a
position which is not their natural one. In this
manner then the elemental parts obey the uni-
versal, for when they have been fixed in any
place perforce they remain there until again
the universal shall sound the signal for dis-
solution. Is it not then strange that thy intel-
ligent part only should be disobedient and dis-
contented with its own place? And yet no
force is imposed on it, but only those things
which are conformable to its nature: still it
does not submit, but is carried in the opposite
direction. For the movement towards injustice
and intemperance and to anger and grief and
fear is nothing else than the act of one who
deviates from nature. And also when the rul-
ing faculty is discontented with anything that
happens, then too it deserts its post: for it is
constituted for piety and reverence towards
the gods no less than for justice. For these
qualities also are comprehended under the
generic term of contentment with the constitu-
tion of things, and indeed they are prior to acts
of justice.

21. He who has not one and always the same
object in life, cannot be one and the same all
through his life. But what I have said is not
enough, unless this also is added, what this ob-

MEDITATIONS, BOOK XI

3 o6 MARCUS

ject ought to be. For as there is not the same
opinion about all the things which in some
way or other are considered by the majority to
be good, but only about some certain things,
that is, things which concern the common in-
terest; so also ought we to propose to ourselves
an object which shall be of a common kind
(social) and political. For he who directs all
his own efforts to this object, will make all his
acts alike, and thus will always be the same.

22. Think of the country mouse and of the
town mouse, and of the alarm and trepidation
of the town mouse.^

23. Socrates used to call the opinions of the
many by the name of Lamiae, bugbears to
frighten children.

24. The Lacedaemonians at their public
spectacles used to set seats in the shade for
strangers, but themselves sat down anywhere.

25. Socrates excused himself to Perdiccas for
not going to him, saying, It is because I would
not perish by the worst of all ends, that is, I
would not receive a favour and then be un-
able to return it.

26. In the writings of the Ephesians there
was this precept, constantly to think of some
one of the men of former times who practised
virtue.

27. The Pythagoreans bid us in the morning
look to the heavens that we may be reminded
of those bodies which continually do the same
things and in the same. manner perform their
work, and also be reminded of their purity and
nudity. For there is no veil over a star.

28. Consider what a man Socrates was when
he dressed himself in a skin, after Xanthippe
had taken his cloak and gone out, and what
Socrates said to his friends who were ashamed
of him and drew back from him when they
saw him dressed thus.

29. Neither in writing nor in reading wilt
thou be able to lay down rules for others before
thou shalt have first learned to obey rules thy-
self. Much more is this so in life.

^ Cf. Horace, Sermones ii. 6.

AURELIUS 21-39

30. A slave thou art: free speech is not for
thee.

31. And my heart laughed within.*

32. And virtue they will curse, speaking
harsh words.^

33. To look for the fig in winter is a mad-
man’s act: such is he who looks for his child
w^hen it is no longer allowed.*

34. When a man kisses his child, said Epic-
tetus, he should whisper to himself, “To-mor-
row perchance thou wilt die.” — But those are
words of bad omen. — “No word is a word of
bad omen,” said Epictetus, “which expresses
any work of nature; or if it is so, it is also a
word of bad omen to sjKak of the ears of corn
being reaped.”*’*

35. The unripe grape, the ripe bunch, the
dried grape, all arc changes, not into nothing,
but into something which exists not yet.®

36. No man can rob us of our free w'ill.^

37. Epictetus also said, A man must discover
an art (or rules) with rcs|x.'ci to giving his
assent; and in resi^ct to his movements he
must be careful that they be made with regard
to circumstances, that they be consistent with
social interests, that they have regard to the
value of the object; and as to sensual desire, he
should altogether keep away from it; and as to
avoidance (aversion) h^ should not show it
with respect to any of the things which arc not
in our power.

38. The dispute then, he said, is not about
any common matter, but about being mad or
not.

39. Socrates used to say, What do you want.?
Souls of rational men or irrational.^ — Souls of
rational men. — Of what rational men.? Sound
or unsound.? — Sound. — Why then do you not
seek for them? — Because we have them. —
Why then do you fight and quarrel?

* Homer. Odyssry, ix. 4 1 ?.

* I Icsifxl, Works and DaySt 1 85,

^Epictetus, iii. 24.

® ffud.

« I hid.

'^Ibid.

^-5

MEDITATIONS, BOOK XII

• BOOK TWELVE

307

All those things at which thou wishest to ar-
rive by a circuitous road, thou canst have now,
if thou dost not refuse them to thyself. And
this means, if thou wilt take no notice of all
the past, and trust the future to providence,
and direct the present only conformably to
piety and justice. Conformably to piety, that
thou mayest be content with the lot which is
assigned to thee, for nature designed it for
thee and thee for it. Conformably to justice,
that thou mayest always speak the truth freely
and without disguise, and do the things which
arc agreeable to law and according to the
worth of each. And let neither another man’s
wickedness hinder thee, nor opinion nor voice,
nor yet the sensations of the poor flesh which
has grown al>out ihcc; for the passive part will
look to this. If then, whatever the time may be
when thou shalt be near to thy departure, neg-
lecting everything else thou shalt respect only
thy ruling faculty and the divinity within
thee, and if thou shalt be afraid not because
thou must some time cease to live, but if thou
shalt fear never to have begun to live accord-
ing to nature — then thou wilt be a man worthy
of the universe which has produced thee, and
thou wilt cease to be a stranger in thy native
land, and to wonder at things which happen
daily as if they were something unexpected,
and to be dependent on this or that.

2. God sees the minds (ruling principles) of
all men bared of the material vesture and rind
and impurities. For with his intellectual part
alone he touches the intelligence only which
has flowed and been derived from himself into
these bodies. And if thou also iiscst thyself to
do this, thou wilt rid thyself of thy much
trouble. For he who regards not the poor flesh
which envelops him, surely will not trouble
himself by looking after raiment and dwell-
ing and fame and such like externals and
show.

3. The things are three of which thou art
composed, a little body, a little breath (life),
intelligence. Of these the first two arc thine,
so far as it is thy duty to take care of them;

but the third alone is properly thine. There-
fore if thou shalt separate from thyself, that is,
from thy understanding, whatever others do or
say, and whatever thou hast done or said thy-
self, and whatever future things trouble thee
because they may happen, and whatever in the
body which envelops thee or in the breath
(life), which is by nature associated with the
body, is attached to thee independent of thy
will, and whatever the external circumfluent
vortex whirls round, so that the intellectual
power exempt from the things of fate can live
pure and free by itself, doing what is just and
accepting wlat happens and saying the truth:
if thou wilt separate, I say, from this ruling
faculty the things which are attached to it by
the impressions of sense, and the things of
time to come and of time that is past, and wilt
make thyself like Empedocles’ sphere,

All round, and in its joyous rest reposing;

and if thou shalt strive to live only what is
really thy life, that is, the present — then thou
wilt be able to pass that portion of life which
remains for thee up to the time of thy death,
free from perturbations, nobly, and obedient
to thy own daemon (to the god that is within
thee).

4. 1 have often wondered how it is that every
man loves bimself more than all the rest of
men, but yet sets less value on his own opinion
of himself than on the opinion of others. If
then a god or a wise teacher should present
himself to a man and bid him to think of noth-
ing and to design nothing which he would not
express as soon as he conceived it, he could not
endure it even for a single day. So much more
respect have we to what our neighbours shall
ihink of us than to what we shall think of our-
selves.

5. How can it be that the gods after having
arranged all things well and benevolently for
mankind, have overlooked this alone, that
some men and very goodemen, and men who,
as we may say, have had most communion
with the divinity, and through pious acts and

3o8

religious observances have been most intimate
with the divinity, when they have once died
should never exist again, but should be com-
pletely extinguished?

But if this is so, be assured that if it ought
to have been otherwise, the gods would have
done it. For if it were just, it would also be
]x>ssible; and if it were according to nature,
nature would have had it so. But because it is
not so, if in fact it is not so, be thou convinced
that it ought not to have been so: — for thou
seest even of thyself that in this inquiry thou
art disputing with the deity; and we should
not thus dispute with the gods, unless they
were most excellent and most just; — ^but if
this is so, they would not have allowed any-
thing in the ordering of the universe to be
neglected unjustly and irrationally.

6. Practise thyself even in the things which
thou despairest of accomplishing. For even the
left hand, which is ineffectual for all other
things for want of practice, holds the bridle
more vigorously than the right hand; for it has
been practised in this.

7. Consider in what condition both in body
and soul a man should be when he is over-
taken by death; and consider the shortness of
life, the boundless abyss of time past and fu-
ture, the feebleness of all matter.

8. Contemplate the formative principles
(forms) of things bate of their coverings; the
purposes of actions; consider what pain is,
what pleasure is, and death, and fame; who is
to himself the cause of his uneasiness; how no
man is hindered by another; that everything
is opinion.

9. In the application of thy principles thou
must be like the pancratiast, not like the gladi-
ator; for the gladiator lets fall the sword which
he uses and is killed; but the other always has
his hand, and needs to do nothing else than
use it.

TO. See what things are in themselves, divid-
ing them into matter, form and purpose.

11. What a power man has to do nothing
except what will approve, and to accept
all that God may give him.

12. With respect to that which happens con-
formably to nature, we ought to blame neither
gods, for they do nothing wrong either volun-
urily or invduntarily, nor men, for they do

5-20

nothing wrong except involuntarily. Conse-
quently we should blame nobody.

13. How ridiculous and what a stranger he
is who is surprised at anything which happens
in life.

14. Either there is a fatal necessity and in-
vincible order, or a kind Providence, or a con-
fusion without a purpose and without a direc-
tor (iv. 27). If then there is an invincible neces-
sity, why dost thou resist? But if there is a
Providence which allows itself to be propi-
tiated, make thyself worthy of the help of the
divinity. But if there is a confusion without a
governor, be content that in such a tempest
thou hast in thyself a certain ruling intelli-
gence. And even if the tempest carry thee
away, let it carry away the poor flesh, the poor
breath, everything else; for the intelligence at
least it will not carry away.

15. Does the light of the lamp shine without
losing its splendour until it is extinguished;
and shall the truth which is in thee and justice
and temperance be extinguished before thy
death?

16. When a man has presented the appear-
ance of having done wrong, say, How then do
I know if this is a wrongful act? And even if
he has done wrong, how do I know that he
has not condemned himsTIf ? and so this is like
tearing his own face. Consider that he, who
would not have the bad man do wrong, is like
the man who would not have the fig-tree to
bear juice in the figs and infants to cry and
the horse to neigh, and whatever else must of
necessity be. For what must a man do who has
such a character? If then thou art irritable,
cure this man’s disposition.

17. If it is not right, do not do it: if it is not
true, do not say it. For let thy efforts be —

18. In everything always observe what the
thing is which produces for thee an appear-
ance, and resolve it by dividing it into the for-
mal, the material, the purpose, and the time
within which it must end. :

19. Perceive at last tha^thou hast in thee
something better and mole divine than the
things which cause the various affects, and as
it were pull thee by the strings. What is there
now in my mind? Is it fear, or suspicion, or
desire, or anything of the kind?

20. First, do nothing inconsiderately, nor

MARCUS AUREUUS

2iH2J

without a purpose. Second, make thy acts refer
to nothing else than to a social end.

21. Consider that before long thou wilt be
nobody and nowhere, nor will any of the
things exist which thou now seest, nor any of
those who are now living. For all things arc
formed by nature to change and be turned and
to perish in order that other things in con-
tinuous succession may exist.

22. Consider that everything is opinion, and
opinion is in thy power. Take away then,
when thou choosest, thy opinion, and like a
mariner, who has doubled the promontory,
thou wilt find calm, everything stable, and a
waveless bay.

23. Any one activity whatever it may be,
when it has ceased at its proper time, suffers
no evil because it has ceased; nor he who has
done this act, does he suffer any evil for this
reason that the act has ceased. In like manner
then the whole which consists of all the acts,
which is our Ilf , if it cease at its proper time,
suffers no evil for this reason that it has ceased;
nor he who has terminated this scries at the
proper time, has he been ill dealt with. But the
profier lime and the limit nature fixes, some-
times as in old age the peculiar nature of man,
but always the universal nature, by the change
of whose parts the whole universe continues
ever young and perfect. And everything which
is useful to the universal is always good and in
season. Therefore the termination of life for
every man is no evil, because neither is it
shameful, since it is both indcjxrndent of the
will and not opposed to the general interest,
but it is good, since it is seasonable and profit-
able to and congruent with the universal. For
thus too he is moved by the deity who is
moved in the same manner with the deity
and moved towards the same things in his
mind.

24. These three principles thou must have in
readiness. In the things which thou doest do
nothing either inconsiderately or otherwise
than as justice herself would act; but with re-
spect to what may hap|ien to thee from with-
out, consider that it happens either by chance
or according to Providence, and thou must
neither blame chance nor accuse Providence.
Second, consider what every being is from the
seed to the time of its receiving a soul, and

309

from the reception of a soul to the giving back
of the same, and of what things every being is
compounded and into what things it is re-
solved. Third, if thou shouldst suddenly be
raised up above the earth, and shouldst look
down on human things, and observe the va-
riety of them how great it is, and at the same
time also shouldst sec at a glance how great is
the number of beings who dwell all around in
the air and the aether, consider that as often as
thou shouldst be raised up, thou wouldst see
the same things, sameness of form and short-
ness of duration. Are these things to be proud
oi?

25. Cast away opinion: thou art saved. Who
then hinders thee from casting it away.^

26. When thou art troubled about anything,
thou hast forgotten this, that all things happen
according to the universal nature; and for-
gotten this, that a man’s wrongful act is noth-
ing to thee; and further thou hast forgotten
this, that everything which happens, always
happened so and will happen so, and now hap-
pens so everywhere; forgotten this too, how
close is the kinship between a man and the
whole human race, for it is a community, not
of a little blood or seed, but of intelligence.
And thou hast forgotten this too, that every
man’s intelligence is a god, and is an efflux of
the deity; and forgotten this, that nothing is a
man’s own, but that his child and his body and
his very soul came from the deity; forgotten
this, that everything is opinion; and lastly
thou hast forgotten that every man lives the
present time only, and loses only this.

27. Constantly bring to thy recollection
those who have complained greatly about any-
thing, those who have been most conspicuous
by the greatest fame or misfortunes or enmities
or fortunes of any kind: then think where are
they all now.^ Smoke and ash and a tale, or
not even a tale. And let there be present to thy
mind also everything of this sort, how Fabius
Catullinus lived in the country, and Lucius
Lupus in his gardens, and Stertinius at Baiae,
and Tiberius at Capreae and Velius Rufus (or
Rufus at Velia); and in fine think of the eager
pursuit of anything conjoined with pride; and
how worthless everything is after which men
violently strain; and how much more philo-
sophical it is for a man in the opportunities

MEDITATIONS, BOOK XII

310

presented to him to show himself just, temper-
ate, obedient to the gods, and to do this with
all simplicity; for the pride which is proud
of its want of pride is the most intolerable
of all.

28. To those who ask, Where hast thou seen
the gods or how dost thou comprehend that
they exist and so worshipest them, I answer, in
the first place, they may be seen even with the
eyes;* in the second place neither have I seen
even my own soul and yet I honour it. Thus
then with respect to the gods, from what I
constandy experience of their power, from this
I comprehend that they exist and I venerate
them.

29. The safety of life is this, to examine
everything all through, what it is itself, what is
its material, what the formal part; with all thy
soul to do justice and to say the truth. What
remains except to enjoy life by joining one
good thing to another so as not to leave even
the smallest intervals between?

30. There is one light of the sun, though it is
interrupted by walls, mountains, and other
things infinite. There is one common sub-
stance, though it is distributed among count-
less bodies which have their several qualities.
There is one soul, though it is distributed
among infinite natures and individual circum-
scriptions (or individuals). There is one in-
telligent soul, though it seems to be divided.
Now in the things which have been men-
tioned all the other parts, such as those which
arc air and matter, are without sensation and
have no fellowship: and yet even these parts
the intelligent principle holds together and the
gravitation towards the same. But intellect in
a peculiar manner tends to that which is of the
same kin, and combines with it, and the feel-
ing for communion is not interrupted.

31. What dost thou wish? I'o continue to
exist? Well, dost thou wish to have sensation?
Movement? Growth? And then again to cease
to grow? To use thy speech? To think? What
is there of all these things which seems to thee
worth desiring? But if it is easy to set little

^ This probably refers to the Stoic belief that the celestial
bcxlics were divine.

27-56

value on all these things, turn to that which
remains, which is to follow reason and God.
But it is inconsistent with honouring reason
and Ciod to be troubled because by death a
man will be deprived of the other things.

32. How small a part of the boundless and
unfathomable time is assigned to every man?
For it is very soon swallowed up in the eternal.
And how small a part of the whole substance?
And how small a part of the universal soul?
And on w'hat a small clod of the whole earth
thou creej^st? Reflecting on all this consider
nothing to be great, except to act as thy nature
leads thee, and to endure that which the com-
mon nature brings.

33. How docs the ruling faculty make use
of itself? For all lies in this. But everything
else, whether it is in the power of thy will or
not, is only lifeless ashes and smoke.

34. This reflection is most adapted to move
us to contempt of death, that even those who
think pleasure to be a good and pain an evil
still have despised it.

3*5. The man to whom that only is good
which comes in due season, and to whom it is
the same thing whether he has done more or
fewer acts conformable to right reason, and to
whom it makes no difference whether he con-
templates the world tor a longer or a shorter
time — for this man neither is death a terrible
thing.

36. Man, thou hast been a citizen in this
great state (the world): what dilTcrcnce docs
it make to thee whether for five years (or
three)? For that which is comformable to the
laws is just lor all. Where is the hardship then,
if no tyrant nor yet an unjust judge sends thee
away from the state, but nature who brought
thee into it? I’he same as if a praetor who has
employed an actor dismisses him from the
stage. — “But I have not finished the five acts,
but only three of thcm.^—^Thou sayest well,
but in life the three acts are the whole drama;
for what shall be 1 complete drama is deter-
mined by him who was once the cause of its
com)X)sition, and now^ of its dissolution: but
thou art the cause of neither. Dcjiart then sat-
isfied, for he also who releases thee is satisfied.

MARCUS AURELIUS

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Lucretius, Epictetus, Aurelius - Part 2