The Enchiridion

By Epictetus

Written 135 A.C.E.

Translated by Elizabeth Carter

1. Some things are in our control and others not. Things in our control are opinion,
pursuit, desire, aversion, and, in a word, whatever are our own actions. Things not in our
control are body, property, reputation, command, and, in one word, whatever are not our
own actions.

The things in our control are by nature free, unrestrained, unhindered; but those not in our
control are weak, slavish, restrained, belonging to others. Remember, then, that if you
suppose that things which are slavish by nature are also free, and that what belongs to
others is your own, then you will be hindered. You will lament, you will be disturbed,
and you will find fault both with gods and men. But if you suppose that only to be your
own which is your own, and what belongs to others such as it really is, then no one will
ever compel you or restrain you. Further, you will find fault with no one or accuse no
one. You will do nothing against your will. No one will hurt you, you will have no
enemies, and you not be harmed.

Aiming therefore at such great things, remember that you must not allow yourself to be
carried, even with a slight tendency, towards the attainment of lesser things. Instead, you
must entirely quit some things and for the present postpone the rest. But if you would
both have these great things, along with power and riches, then you will not gain even the
latter, because you aim at the former too: but you will absolutely fail of the former, by
which alone happiness and freedom are achieved.

Work, therefore to be able to say to every harsh appearance, "You are but an appearance,
and not absolutely the thing you appear to be." And then examine it by those rules which
you have, and first, and chiefly, by this: whether it concerns the things which are in our
own control, or those which are not; and, if it concerns anything not in our control, be
prepared to say that it is nothing to you.

2. Remember that following desire promises the attainment of that of which you are
desirous; and aversion promises the avoiding that to which you are averse. However, he
who fails to obtain the object of his desire is disappointed, and he who incurs the object
of his aversion wretched. If, then, you confine your aversion to those objects only which
are contrary to the natural use of your faculties, which you have in your own control, you
will never incur anything to which you are averse. But if you are averse to sickness, or
death, or poverty, you will be wretched. Remove aversion, then, from all things that are
not in our control, and transfer it to things contrary to the nature of what is in our control.
But, for the present, totally suppress desire: for, if you desire any of the things which are
not in your own control, you must necessarily be disappointed; and of those which are,
and which it would be laudable to desire, nothing is yet in your possession. Use only the
appropriate actions of pursuit and avoidance; and even these lightly, and with gentleness
and reservation.

3. With regard to whatever objects give you delight, are useful, or are deeply loved,
remember to tell yourself of what general nature they are, beginning from the most
insignificant things. If, for example, you are fond of a specific ceramic cup, remind
yourself that it is only ceramic cups in general of which you are fond. Then, if it breaks,
you will not be disturbed. If you kiss your child, or your wife, say that you only kiss
things which are human, and thus you will not be disturbed if either of them dies.

4. When you are going about any action, remind yourself what nature the action is. If you
are going to bathe, picture to yourself the things which usually happen in the bath: some
people splash the water, some push, some use abusive language, and others steal. Thus
you will more safely go about this action if you say to yourself, "I will now go bathe, and
keep my own mind in a state conformable to nature." And in the same manner with
regard to every other action. For thus, if any hindrance arises in bathing, you will have it
ready to say, "It was not only to bathe that I desired, but to keep my mind in a state
conformable to nature; and I will not keep it if I am bothered at things that happen.

5. Men are disturbed, not by things, but by the principles and notions which they form
concerning things. Death, for instance, is not terrible, else it would have appeared so to
Socrates. But the terror consists in our notion of death that it is terrible. When therefore
we are hindered, or disturbed, or grieved, let us never attribute it to others, but to
ourselves; that is, to our own principles. An uninstructed person will lay the fault of his
own bad condition upon others. Someone just starting instruction will lay the fault on
himself. Some who is perfectly instructed will place blame neither on others nor on
himself.

6. Don't be prideful with any excellence that is not your own. If a horse should be
prideful and say, " I am handsome," it would be supportable. But when you are prideful,
and say, " I have a handsome horse," know that you are proud of what is, in fact, only the
good of the horse. What, then, is your own? Only your reaction to the appearances of
things. Thus, when you behave conformably to nature in reaction to how things appear,
you will be proud with reason; for you will take pride in some good of your own.

7. Consider when, on a voyage, your ship is anchored; if you go on shore to get water you
may along the way amuse yourself with picking up a shellish, or an onion. However, your
thoughts and continual attention ought to be bent towards the ship, waiting for the captain
to call on board; you must then immediately leave all these things, otherwise you will be
thrown into the ship, bound neck and feet like a sheep. So it is with life. If, instead of an
onion or a shellfish, you are given a wife or child, that is fine. But if the captain calls, you
must run to the ship, leaving them, and regarding none of them. But if you are old, never
go far from the ship: lest, when you are called, you should be unable to come in time.

8. Don't demand that things happen as you wish, but wish that they happen as they do
happen, and you will go on well.

9. Sickness is a hindrance to the body, but not to your ability to choose, unless that is
your choice. Lameness is a hindrance to the leg, but not to your ability to choose. Say this
to yourself with regard to everything that happens, then you will see such obstacles as
hindrances to something else, but not to yourself.

10. With every accident, ask yourself what abilities you have for making a proper use of
it. If you see an attractive person, you will find that self-restraint is the ability you have
against your desire. If you are in pain, you will find fortitude. If you hear unpleasant
language, you will find patience. And thus habituated, the appearances of things will not
hurry you away along with them.

11. Never say of anything, "I have lost it"; but, "I have returned it." Is your child dead? It
is returned. Is your wife dead? She is returned. Is your estate taken away? Well, and is
not that likewise returned? "But he who took it away is a bad man." What difference is it
to you who the giver assigns to take it back? While he gives it to you to possess, take care
of it; but don't view it as your own, just as travelers view a hotel.

12. If you want to improve, reject such reasonings as these: "If I neglect my affairs, I'll
have no income; if I don't correct my servant, he will be bad." For it is better to die with
hunger, exempt from grief and fear, than to live in affluence with perturbation; and it is
better your servant should be bad, than you unhappy.

Begin therefore from little things. Is a little oil spilt? A little wine stolen? Say to yourself,
"This is the price paid for apathy, for tranquillity, and nothing is to be had for nothing."
When you call your servant, it is possible that he may not come; or, if he does, he may
not do what you want. But he is by no means of such importance that it should be in his
power to give you any disturbance.

13. If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid with regard to
external things. Don't wish to be thought to know anything; and even if you appear to be
somebody important to others, distrust yourself. For, it is difficult to both keep your
faculty of choice in a state conformable to nature, and at the same time acquire external
things. But while you are careful about the one, you must of necessity neglect the other.

14. If you wish your children, and your wife, and your friends to live for ever, you are
stupid; for you wish to be in control of things which you cannot, you wish for things that
belong to others to be your own. So likewise, if you wish your servant to be without fault,
you are a fool; for you wish vice not to be vice," but something else. But, if you wish to
have your desires undisappointed, this is in your own control. Exercise, therefore, what is
in your control. He is the master of every other person who is able to confer or remove
whatever that person wishes either to have or to avoid. Whoever, then, would be free, let
him wish nothing, let him decline nothing, which depends on others else he must
necessarily be a slave.
15. Remember that you must behave in life as at a dinner party. Is anything brought
around to you? Put out your hand and take your share with moderation. Does it pass by
you? Don't stop it. Is it not yet come? Don't stretch your desire towards it, but wait till it
reaches you. Do this with regard to children, to a wife, to public posts, to riches, and you
will eventually be a worthy partner of the feasts of the gods. And if you don't even take
the things which are set before you, but are able even to reject them, then you will not
only be a partner at the feasts of the gods, but also of their empire. For, by doing this,
Diogenes, Heraclitus and others like them, deservedly became, and were called, divine.

16. When you see anyone weeping in grief because his son has gone abroad, or is dead,
or because he has suffered in his affairs, be careful that the appearance may not misdirect
you. Instead, distinguish within your own mind, and be prepared to say, "It's not the
accident that distresses this person., because it doesn't distress another person; it is the
judgment which he makes about it." As far as words go, however, don't reduce yourself
to his level, and certainly do not moan with him. Do not moan inwardly either.

17. Remember that you are an actor in a drama, of such a kind as the author pleases to
make it. If short, of a short one; if long, of a long one. If it is his pleasure you should act a
poor man, a cripple, a governor, or a private person, see that you act it naturally. For this
is your business, to act well the character assigned you; to choose it is another's.

18. When a raven happens to croak unluckily, don't allow the appearance hurry you away
with it, but immediately make the distinction to yourself, and say, "None of these things
are foretold to me; but either to my paltry body, or property, or reputation, or children, or
wife. But to me all omens are lucky, if I will. For whichever of these things happens, it is
in my control to derive advantage from it."

19. You may be unconquerable, if you enter into no combat in which it is not in your own
control to conquer. When, therefore, you see anyone eminent in honors, or power, or in
high esteem on any other account, take heed not to be hurried away with the appearance,
and to pronounce him happy; for, if the essence of good consists in things in our own
control, there will be no room for envy or emulation. But, for your part, don't wish to be a
general, or a senator, or a consul, but to be free; and the only way to this is a contempt of
things not in our own control.

20. Remember, that not he who gives ill language or a blow insults, but the principle
which represents these things as insulting. When, therefore, anyone provokes you, be
assured that it is your own opinion which provokes you. Try, therefore, in the first place,
not to be hurried away with the appearance. For if you once gain time and respite, you
will more easily command yourself.

21. Let death and exile, and all other things which appear terrible be daily before your
eyes, but chiefly death, and you win never entertain any abject thought, nor too eagerly
covet anything.

22. If you have an earnest desire of attaining to philosophy, prepare yourself from the
very first to be laughed at, to be sneered by the multitude, to hear them say,." He is
returned to us a philosopher all at once," and " Whence this supercilious look?" Now, for
your part, don't have a supercilious look indeed; but keep steadily to those things which
appear best to you as one appointed by God to this station. For remember that, if you
adhere to the same point, those very persons who at first ridiculed will afterwards admire
you. But if you are conquered by them, you will incur a double ridicule.

23. If you ever happen to turn your attention to externals, so as to wish to please anyone,
be assured that you have ruined your scheme of life. Be contented, then, in everything
with being a philosopher; and, if you wish to be thought so likewise by anyone, appear so
to yourself, and it will suffice you.

24. Don't allow such considerations as these distress you. "I will live in dishonor, and be
nobody anywhere." For, if dishonor is an evil, you can no more be involved in any evil
by the means of another, than be engaged in anything base. Is it any business of yours,
then, to get power, or to be admitted to an entertainment? By no means. How, then, after
all, is this a dishonor? And how is it true that you will be nobody anywhere, when you
ought to be somebody in those things only which are in your own control, in which you
may be of the greatest consequence? "But my friends will be unassisted." -- What do you
mean by unassisted? They will not have money from you, nor will you make them
Roman citizens. Who told you, then, that these are among the things in our own control,
and not the affair of others? And who can give to another the things which he has not
himself? "Well, but get them, then, that we too may have a share." If I can get them with
the preservation of my own honor and fidelity and greatness of mind, show me the way
and I will get them; but if you require me to lose my own proper good that you may gain
what is not good, consider how inequitable and foolish you are. Besides, which would
you rather have, a sum of money, or a friend of fidelity and honor? Rather assist me,
then, to gain this character than require me to do those things by which I may lose it.
Well, but my country, say you, as far as depends on me, will be unassisted. Here again,
what assistance is this you mean? "It will not have porticoes nor baths of your providing."
And what signifies that? Why, neither does a smith provide it with shoes, or a shoemaker
with arms. It is enough if everyone fully performs his own proper business. And were
you to supply it with another citizen of honor and fidelity, would not he be of use to it?
Yes. Therefore neither are you yourself useless to it. "What place, then, say you, will I
hold in the state?" Whatever you can hold with the preservation of your fidelity and
honor. But if, by desiring to be useful to that, you lose these, of what use can you be to
your country when you are become faithless and void of shame.

25. Is anyone preferred before you at an entertainment, or in a compliment, or in being

admitted to a consultation? If these things are good, you ought to be glad that he has
gotten them; and if they are evil, don't be grieved that you have not gotten them. And
remember that you cannot, without using the same means [which others do] to acquire
things not in our own control, expect to be thought worthy of an equal share of them. For
how can he who does not frequent the door of any [great] man, does not attend him, does
not praise him, have an equal share with him who does? You are unjust, then, and
insatiable, if you are unwilling to pay the price for which these things are sold, and would
have them for nothing. For how much is lettuce sold? Fifty cents, for instance. If another,
then, paying fifty cents, takes the lettuce, and you, not paying it, go without them, don't
imagine that he has gained any advantage over you. For as he has the lettuce, so you have
the fifty cents which you did not give. So, in the present case, you have not been invited
to such a person's entertainment, because you have not paid him the price for which a
supper is sold. It is sold for praise; it is sold for attendance. Give him then the value, if it
is for your advantage. But if you would, at the same time, not pay the one and yet receive
the other, you are insatiable, and a blockhead. Have you nothing, then, instead of the
supper? Yes, indeed, you have: the not praising him, whom you don't like to praise; the
not bearing with his behavior at coming in.

26. The will of nature may be learned from those things in which we don't distinguish
from each other. For example, when our neighbor's boy breaks a cup, or the like, we are
presently ready to say, "These things will happen." Be assured, then, that when your own
cup likewise is broken, you ought to be affected just as when another's cup was broken.
Apply this in like manner to greater things. Is the child or wife of another dead? There is
no one who would not say, "This is a human accident." but if anyone's own child happens
to die, it is presently, "Alas I how wretched am I!" But it should be remembered how we
are affected in hearing the same thing concerning others.

27. As a mark is not set up for the sake of missing the aim, so neither does the nature of
evil exist in the world.

28. If a person gave your body to any stranger he met on his way, you would certainly be
angry. And do you feel no shame in handing over your own mind to be confused and
mystified by anyone who happens to verbally attack you?

29. In every affair consider what precedes and follows, and then undertake it. Otherwise
you will begin with spirit; but not having thought of the consequences, when some of
them appear you will shamefully desist. "I would conquer at the Olympic games." But
consider what precedes and follows, and then, if it is for your advantage, engage in the
affair. You must conform to rules, submit to a diet, refrain from dainties; exercise your
body, whether you choose it or not, at a stated hour, in heat and cold; you must drink no
cold water, nor sometimes even wine. In a word, you must give yourself up to your
master, as to a physician. Then, in the combat, you may be thrown into a ditch, dislocate
your arm, turn your ankle, swallow dust, be whipped, and, after all, lose the victory.
When you have evaluated all this, if your inclination still holds, then go to war.
Otherwise, take notice, you will behave like children who sometimes play like wrestlers,
sometimes gladiators, sometimes blow a trumpet, and sometimes act a tragedy when they
have seen and admired these shows. Thus you too will be at one time a wrestler, at
another a gladiator, now a philosopher, then an orator; but with your whole soul, nothing
at all. Like an ape, you mimic all you see, and one thing after another is sure to please
you, but is out of favor as soon as it becomes familiar. For you have never entered upon
anything considerately, nor after having viewed the whole matter on all sides, or made
any scrutiny into it, but rashly, and with a cold inclination. Thus some, when they have
seen a philosopher and heard a man speaking like Euphrates (though, indeed, who can
speak like him?), have a mind to be philosophers too. Consider first, man, what the
matter is, and what your own nature is able to bear. If you would be a wrestler, consider
your shoulders, your back, your thighs; for different persons are made for different
things. Do you think that you can act as you do, and be a philosopher? That you can eat
and drink, and be angry and discontented as you are now? You must watch, you must
labor, you must get the better of certain appetites, must quit your acquaintance, be
despised by your servant, be laughed at by those you meet; come off worse than others in
everything, in magistracies, in honors, in courts of judicature. When you have considered
all these things round, approach, if you please; if, by parting with them, you have a mind
to purchase apathy, freedom, and tranquillity. If not, don't come here; don't, like children,
be one while a philosopher, then a publican, then an orator, and then one of Caesar's
officers. These things are not consistent. You must be one man, either good or bad. You
must cultivate either your own ruling faculty or externals, and apply yourself either to
things within or without you; that is, be either a philosopher, or one of the vulgar.

30. Duties are universally measured by relations. Is anyone a father? If so, it is implied
that the children should take care of him, submit to him in everything, patiently listen to
his reproaches, his correction. But he is a bad father. Is you naturally entitled, then, to a
good father? No, only to a father. Is a brother unjust? Well, keep your own situation
towards him. Consider not what he does, but what you are to do to keep your own faculty
of choice in a state conformable to nature. For another will not hurt you unless you
please. You will then be hurt when you think you are hurt. In this manner, therefore, you
will find, from the idea of a neighbor, a citizen, a general, the corresponding duties if you
accustom yourself to contemplate the several relations.

31. Be assured that the essential property of piety towards the gods is to form right
opinions concerning them, as existing "I and as governing the universe with goodness
and justice. And fix yourself in this resolution, to obey them, and yield to them, and
willingly follow them in all events, as produced by the most perfect understanding. For
thus you will never find fault with the gods, nor accuse them as neglecting you. And it is
not possible for this to be effected any other way than by withdrawing yourself from
things not in our own control, and placing good or evil in those only which are. For if you
suppose any of the things not in our own control to be either good or evil, when you are
disappointed of what you wish, or incur what you would avoid, you must necessarily find
fault with and blame the authors. For every animal is naturally formed to fly and abhor
things that appear hurtful, and the causes of them; and to pursue and admire those which
appear beneficial, and the causes of them. It is impractical, then, that one who supposes
himself to be hurt should be happy about the person who, he thinks, hurts him, just as it is
impossible to be happy about the hurt itself. Hence, also, a father is reviled by a son,
when he does not impart to him the things which he takes to be good; and the supposing
empire to be a good made Polynices and Eteocles mutually enemies. On this account the
husbandman, the sailor, the merchant, on this account those who lose wives and children,
revile the gods. For where interest is, there too is piety placed. So that, whoever is careful
to regulate his desires and aversions as he ought, is, by the very same means, careful of
piety likewise. But it is also incumbent on everyone to offer libations and sacrifices and
first fruits, conformably to the customs of his country, with purity, and not in a slovenly
manner, nor negligently, nor sparingly, nor beyond his ability.

32. When you have recourse to divination, remember that you know not what the event
will be, and you come to learn it of the diviner; but of what nature it is you know before
you come, at least if you are a philosopher. For if it is among the things not in our own
control, it can by no means be either good or evil. Don't, therefore, bring either desire or
aversion with you to the diviner (else you will approach him trembling), but first acquire
a distinct knowledge that every event is indifferent and nothing to you., of whatever sort
it may be, for it will be in your power to make a right use of it, and this no one can
hinder; then come with confidence to the gods, as your counselors, and afterwards, when
any counsel is given you, remember what counselors you have assumed, and whose
advice you will neglect if you disobey. Come to divination, as Socrates prescribed, in
cases of which the whole consideration relates to the event, and in which no opportunities
are afforded by reason, or any other art, to discover the thing proposed to be learned.
When, therefore, it is our duty to share the danger of a friend or of our country, we ought
not to consult the oracle whether we will share it with them or not. For, though the
diviner should forewarn you that the victims are unfavorable, this means no more than
that either death or mutilation or exile is portended. But we have reason within us, and it
directs, even with these hazards, to the greater diviner, the Pythian god, who cast out of
the temple the person who gave no assistance to his friend while another was murdering
him.

33. Immediately prescribe some character and form of conduce to yourself, which you
may keep both alone and in company.

Be for the most part silent, or speak merely what is necessary, and in few words. We
may, however, enter, though sparingly, into discourse sometimes when occasion calls for
it, but not on any of the common subjects, of gladiators, or horse races, or athletic
champions, or feasts, the vulgar topics of conversation; but principally not of men, so as
either to blame, or praise, or make comparisons. If you are able, then, by your own
conversation bring over that of your company to proper subjects; but, if you happen to be
taken among strangers, be silent.

Don't allow your laughter be much, nor on many occasions, nor profuse.

Avoid swearing, if possible, altogether; if not, as far as you are able.

Avoid public and vulgar entertainments; but, if ever an occasion calls you to them, keep
your attention upon the stretch, that you may not imperceptibly slide into vulgar manners.
For be assured that if a person be ever so sound himself, yet, if his companion be
infected, he who converses with him will be infected likewise.

Provide things relating to the body no further than mere use; as meat, drink, clothing,
house, family. But strike off and reject everything relating to show and delicacy.

As far as possible, before marriage, keep yourself pure from familiarities with women,
and, if you indulge them, let it be lawfully." But don't therefore be troublesome and full
of reproofs to those who use these liberties, nor frequently boast that you yourself don't.

If anyone tells you that such a person speaks ill of you, don't make excuses about what is
said of you, but answer: " He does not know my other faults, else he would not have
mentioned only these."

It is not necessary for you to appear often at public spectacles; but if ever there is a proper
occasion for you to be there, don't appear more solicitous for anyone than for yourself;
that is, wish things to be only just as they are, and him only to conquer who is the
conqueror, for thus you will meet with no hindrance. But abstain entirely from
declamations and derision and violent emotions. And when you come away, don't
discourse a great deal on what has passed, and what does not contribute to your own
amendment. For it would appear by such discourse that you were immoderately struck
with the show.

Go not [of your own accord] to the rehearsals of any

authors , nor appear [at them] readily. But, if you do appear, keepyour gravity and
sedateness, and at the same time avoid being morose.

When you are going to confer with anyone, and particularly of those in a superior station,
represent to yourself how Socrates or Zeno would behave in such a case, and you will not
be at a loss to make a proper use of whatever may occur.

When you are going to any of the people in power, represent to yourself that you will not
find him at home; that you will not be admitted; that the doors will not be opened to you;
that he will take no notice of you. If, with all this, it is your duty to go, bear what
happens, and never say [to yourself], " It was not worth so much." For this is vulgar, and
like a man dazed by external things.

In parties of conversation, avoid a frequent and excessive mention of your own actions
and dangers. For, however agreeable it may be to yourself to mention the risks you have
run, it is not equally agreeable to others to hear your adventures. Avoid, likewise, an
endeavor to excite laughter. For this is a slippery point, which may throw you into vulgar
manners, and, besides, may be apt to lessen you in the esteem of your acquaintance.
Approaches to indecent discourse are likewise dangerous. Whenever, therefore, anything
of this sort happens, if there be a proper opportunity, rebuke him who makes advances
that way; or, at least, by silence and blushing and a forbidding look, show yourself to be
displeased by such talk.

34. If you are struck by the appearance of any promised pleasure, guard yourself against
being hurried away by it; but let the affair wait your leisure, and procure yourself some
delay. Then bring to your mind both points of time: that in which you will enjoy the
pleasure, and that in which you will repent and reproach yourself after you have enjoyed
it; and set before you, in opposition to these, how you will be glad and applaud yourself if
you abstain. And even though it should appear to you a seasonable gratification, take
heed that its enticing, and agreeable and attractive force may not subdue you; but set in
opposition to this how much better it is to be conscious of having gained so great a
victory.

35. When you do anything from a clear judgment that it ought to be done, never shun the
being seen to do it, even though the world should make a wrong supposition about it; for,
if you don't act right, shun the action itself; but, if you do, why are you afraid of those
who censure you wrongly?

36. As the proposition, "Either it is day or it is night," is extremely proper for a

disjunctive argument, but quite improper in a conjunctive one, so, at a feast, to choose the
largest share is very suitable to the bodily appetite, but utterly inconsistent with the social
spirit of an entertainment. When you eat with another, then, remember not only the value
of those things which are set before you to the body, but the value of that behavior which
ought to be observed towards the person who gives the entertainment.

37. If you have assumed any character above your strength, you have both made an ill
figure in that and quitted one which you might have supported.

38. When walking, you are careful not to step on a nail or turn your foot; so likewise be
careful not to hurt the ruling faculty of your mind. And, if we were to guard against this
in every action, we should undertake the action with the greater safety.

39. The body is to everyone the measure of the possessions proper for it, just as the foot
is of the shoe. If, therefore, you stop at this, you will keep the measure; but if you move
beyond it, you must necessarily be carried forward, as down a cliff; as in the case of a
shoe, if you go beyond its fitness to the foot, it comes first to be gilded, then purple, and
then studded with jewels. For to that which once exceeds a due measure, there is no
bound.

40. Women from fourteen years old are flattered with the title of "mistresses" by the men.
Therefore, perceiving that they are regarded only as qualified to give the men pleasure,
they begin to adorn themselves, and in that to place ill their hopes. We should, therefore,
fix our attention on making them sensible that they are valued for the appearance of
decent, modest and discreet behavior.

41. It is a mark of want of genius to spend much time in things relating to the body, as to
be long in our exercises, in eating and drinking, and in the discharge of other animal
functions. These should be done incidentally and slightly, and our whole attention be
engaged in the care of the understanding.

42. When any person harms you, or speaks badly of you, remember that he acts or speaks
from a supposition of its being his duty. Now, it is not possible that he should follow
what appears right to you, but what appears so to himself. Therefore, if he judges from a
wrong appearance, he is the person hurt, since he too is the person deceived. For if
anyone should suppose a true proposition to be false, the proposition is not hurt, but he
who is deceived about it. Setting out, then, from these principles, you will meekly bear a
person who reviles you, for you will say upon every occasion, "It seemed so to him."

43. Everything has two handles, the one by which it may be carried, the other by which it
cannot. If your brother acts unjustly, don't lay hold on the action by the handle of his
injustice, for by that it cannot be carried; but by the opposite, that he is your brother, that
he was brought up with you; and thus you will lay hold on it, as it is to be carried.

44. These reasonings are unconnected: "I am richer than you, therefore I am better"; "I
am more eloquent than you, therefore I am better." The connection is rather this: "I am
richer than you, therefore my property is greater than yours;" "I am more eloquent than
you, therefore my style is better than yours." But you, after all, are neither property nor
style.

45. Does anyone bathe in a mighty little time? Don't say that he does it ill, but in a mighty
little time. Does anyone drink a great quantity of wine? Don't say that he does ill, but that
he drinks a great quantity. For, unless you perfectly understand the principle from which
anyone acts, how should you know if he acts ill? Thus you will not run the hazard of
assenting to any appearances but such as you fully comprehend.

46. Never call yourself a philosopher, nor talk a great deal among the unlearned about
theorems, but act conformably to them. Thus, at an entertainment, don't talk how persons
ought to eat, but eat as you ought. For remember that in this manner Socrates also
universally avoided all ostentation. And when persons came to him and desired to be
recommended by him to philosophers, he took and- recommended them, so well did he
bear being overlooked. So that if ever any talk should happen among the unlearned
concerning philosophic theorems, be you, for the most part, silent. For there is great
danger in immediately throwing out what you have not digested. And, if anyone tells you
that you know nothing, and you are not nettled at it, then you may be sure that you have
begun your business. For sheep don't throw up the grass to show the shepherds how much
they have eaten; but, inwardly digesting their food, they outwardly produce wool and
milk. Thus, therefore, do you likewise not show theorems to the unlearned, but the
actions produced by them after they have been digested.

47. When you have brought yourself to supply the necessities of your body at a small
price, don't pique yourself upon it; nor, if you drink water, be saying upon every
occasion, "I drink water." But first consider how much more sparing and patient of
hardship the poor are than we. But if at any time you would inure yourself by exercise to
labor, and bearing hard trials, do it for your own sake, and not for the world; don't grasp
statues, but, when you are violently thirsty, take a little cold water in your mouth, and
spurt it out and tell nobody.

48. The condition and characteristic of a vulgar person, is, that he never expects either
benefit or hurt from himself, but from externals. The condition and characteristic of a
philosopher is, that he expects all hurt and benefit from himself. The marks of a
proficient are, that he censures no one, praises no one, blames no one, accuses no one,
says nothing concerning himself as being anybody, or knowing anything: when he is, in
any instance, hindered or restrained, he accuses himself; and, if he is praised, he secretly
laughs at the person who praises him; and, if he is censured, he makes no defense. But he
goes about with the caution of sick or injured people, dreading to move anything that is
set right, before it is perfectly fixed. He suppresses all desire in himself; he transfers his
aversion to those things only which thwart the proper use of our own faculty of choice;
the exertion of his active powers towards anything is very gentle; if he appears stupid or
ignorant, he does not care, and, in a word, he watches himself as an enemy, and one in
ambush.

49. When anyone shows himself overly confident in ability to understand and interpret
the works of Chrysippus, say to yourself, " Unless Chrysippus had written obscurely, this
person would have had no subject for his vanity. But what do I desire? To understand
nature and follow her. I ask, then, who interprets her, and, finding Chrysippus does, I
have recourse to him. I don't understand his writings. I seek, therefore, one to interpret
them." So far there is nothing to value myself upon. And when I find an interpreter, what
remains is to make use of his instructions. This alone is the valuable thing. But, if I
admire nothing but merely the interpretation, what do I become more than a grammarian
instead of a philosopher? Except, indeed, that instead of Homer I interpret Chrysippus.
When anyone, therefore, desires me to read Chrysippus to him, I rather blush when I
cannot show my actions agreeable and consonant to his discourse.

50. Whatever moral rules you have deliberately proposed to yourself. abide by them as
they were laws, and as if you would be guilty of impiety by violating any of them. Don't
regard what anyone says of you, for this, after all, is no concern of yours. How long, then,
will you put off thinking yourself worthy of the highest improvements and follow the
distinctions of reason? You have received the philosophical theorems, with which you
ought to be familiar, and you have been familiar with them. What other master, then, do
you wait for, to throw upon that the delay of reforming yourself? You are no longer a
boy, but a grown man. If, therefore, you will be negligent and slothful, and always add
procrastination to procrastination, purpose to purpose, and fix day after day in which you
will attend to yourself, you will insensibly continue without proficiency, and, living and
dying, persevere in being one of the vulgar. This instant, then, think yourself worthy of
living as a man grown up, and a proficient. Let whatever appears to be the best be to you
an inviolable law. And if any instance of pain or pleasure, or glory or disgrace, is set
before you, remember that now is the combat, now the Olympiad comes on, nor can it be
put off. By once being defeated and giving way, proficiency is lost, or by the contrary
preserved. Thus Socrates became perfect, improving himself by everything. attending to
nothing but reason. And though you are not yet a Socrates, you ought, however, to live as
one desirous of becoming a Socrates.

51. The first and most necessary topic in philosophy is that of the use of moral theorems,
such as, "We ought not to lie;" the second is that of demonstrations, such as, "What is the
origin of our obligation not to lie;" the third gives strength and articulation to the other
two, such as, "What is the origin of this is a demonstration." For what is demonstration?
What is consequence? What contradiction? What truth? What falsehood? The third topic,
then, is necessary on the account of the second, and the second on the account of the first.
But the most necessary, and that whereon we ought to rest, is the first. But we act just on
the contrary. For we spend all our time on the third topic, and employ all our diligence
about that, and entirely neglect the first. Therefore, at the same time that we lie, we are
immediately prepared to show how it is demonstrated that lying is not right.

52. Upon all occasions we ought to have these maxims ready at hand:

"Conduct me, Jove, and you, 0 Destiny,

Wherever your decrees have fixed my station."
Cleanthes

"I follow cheerfully; and, did I not,

Wicked and wretched, I must follow still
Whoever yields properly to Fate, is deemed
Wise among men, and knows the laws of heaven."
Euripides, Frag. 965

And this third:

"0 Crito, if it thus pleases the gods, thus let it be. Anytus and Melitus may kill me indeed,
but hurt me they cannot."
Plato's Crito and Apology

THE END
The Meditations

By Marcus Aurelius

Written 167 A.C.E.

Translated by George Long

Table of Contents

Book One

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

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

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

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 Parmularius 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.

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
passionately to such things; and to endure freedom of speech; and to have become
intimate with philosophy; and to have been a hearer, first of Bacchius, then of Tandasis
and Marcianus; 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.

From Rusticus I received the impression that my character required improvement and
discipline; and from him I learned not to be led astray to sophistic emulation, nor to
writing 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 display; 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 wrote from Sinuessa to my
mother; and with respect to those who have offended me by words, or done me wrong, to
be easily disposed 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 superficial
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.

From Apollonius I learned freedom of will and undeviating steadiness of purpose; and to
look to nothing else, not even for a moment, 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
peevish 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, without being either humbled by them or letting them pass unnoticed.

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

fatherly manner, and the idea of living conformably to nature; and gravity without
affectation, and to look carefully after the interests of friends, and to tolerate ignorant
persons, and those who form opinions without consideration: he had the power of readily
accommodating 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 display, and he possessed much knowledge without
ostentation.

From Alexander the grammarian, to refrain from fault-finding, and not in a reproachful
way to chide those who uttered any barbarous or solecistic or strange-sounding
expression; 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 suggestion.

From Fronto 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
paternal affection.

From Alexander the Platonic, not frequently 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.

From Catulus, not to be indifferent 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.

From my brother Severus, to love my kin, and to love truth, and to love justice; and
through him I learned to know Thrasea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion, Brutus; and from him I
received the idea of a polity in which there is the same law for all, a polity administered
with 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 undeviating 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.

From Maximus I learned self-government, 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
character of sweetness and dignity, and to do what was set before me without
complaining. I observed 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 beneficence, and was
ready to forgive, and was free from all falsehood; 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 man could ever think that he was despised by Maximus, or ever
venture to think himself a better man. He had also the art of being humorous in an
agreeable way.

In my father I observed mildness of temper, and unchangeable resolution in the things

which he had determined after due deliberation; 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 propose 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 remission. And I observed that he had
overcome all passion for boys; and he considered himself no more than any other citizen;
and he released 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 circumstances, always found him the same. I observed 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 disposition was to keep his friends, and not to be soon tired of
them, nor yet to be extravagant in his affection; and to be satisfied on all occasions, and
cheerful; and to foresee things a long way off, and to provide for the smallest without
display; and to check immediately popular applause 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 conduct; and he was neither superstitious with respect 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 without
excusing himself; so that when he had them, he enjoyed them without affectation, and
when he had them not, he did not want them. No one could ever say of him that he was
either a sophist 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's
affairs. Besides this, he honoured 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 conversation, and he made himself agreeable without any offensive
affectation. He took a reasonable 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 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
reputation 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 but very few and very rare,
and these only about public matters; and he showed prudence and economy in the
exhibition of the public spectacles and the construction of public buildings, his donations
to the people, and in such things, for he 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 about 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 from Lanuvium generally. We know
how he behaved to the toll-collector at Tusculum who asked his pardon; and such was all
his behaviour. There was in him nothing harsh, nor implacable, nor violent, nor, as one
may say, anything carried to 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 recorded 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 both to bear the one and
to be sober in the other is the mark of a man who has a perfect and invincible soul, such
as he showed in the illness of Maximus.

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 I was not hurried into any offence against any of them,
though I had a disposition which, if opportunity had offered, 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, I am thankful to the gods that I was not
longer brought up with my grandfather's concubine, and that I preserved 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 being for this reason either meaner in thought, or
more remiss in action, with respect to the things which must be done for the public
interest 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 deformed in body; that I did not make more proficiency 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, without putting them off with hope of my
doing it some time after, because they were then still young; that I knew Apollonius,
Rusticus, Maximus; that I received clear and frequent impressions about living according
to nature, and what kind of a life that is, so that, so far as depended 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 instructions; 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 I
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 happened, to receive anything 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 bloodspitting and giddiness...; and that, when I 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.

Book Two

Begin the morning by saying to thyself, I shall meet with the busy-body, the ungrateful,
arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All these things happen to them by reason of their
ignorance of what is good and evil. But I 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 that it participates in the same
intelligence and the same portion of the divinity, I can neither be injured by any of them,
for no one can fix on me what is ugly, nor can I be angry with my kinsman, nor hate him,
For we are made for co-operation, like feet, like hands, like eyelids, 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.

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 either be dissatisfied with thy present lot,
or shrink from the future.

All that is from the gods is full of Providence. That which is from fortune is not separated
from nature or without an interweaving and involution with the things which are ordered
by Providence. From thence all things flow; and there is besides necessity, and that which
is for the advantage of the whole universe, 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.

Remember how long thou hast been putting off these things, and how often thou hast
received an opportunity from the gods, and yet dost not use it. Thou must now at last
perceive of what universe thou art a part, and of what administrator of the universe thy
existence 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.

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 affection, and freedom, and justice; and to give
thyself relief from all other thoughts. And thou wilt give thyself relief, if thou doest 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.

Do wrong to thyself, do wrong to thyself, my soul; but thou wilt no longer have the
opportunity 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.

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 are 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.

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.

This thou must always bear in mind, what is the nature of the whole, and what is my
nature, 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.

Theophrastus, in his comparison of bad acts- such a comparison as one would make in
accordance with the common notions of mankind- says, like a true philosopher, that the
offences which are committed through desire are more blameable than those which are
committed 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
overpowered by pleasure, seems to be in a manner more intemperate and more womanish
in his offences. Rightly then, and in a way worthy of philosophy, he said that the offence
which is committed with pleasure is more blameable 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.
Since it is possible that thou mayest depart 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 involve 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
devoid 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 possible that the nature of the universe has overlooked them; nor is it possible
that it has made so great a mistake, either through want of power 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 are neither good nor evil.

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 those
which 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 are- 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 then consider it to be
nothing else than an operation of nature; and if any one is afraid of an operation of nature,
he is a child. This, however, 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.

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 veneration for their excellence;
and the things from men should be dear to us by reason of kinship; and sometimes even,
in a manner, they move 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 distinguishing things
that are white and black.

Though thou shouldst be going to live three thousand years, and as many times 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
either 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 are of
like forms and come round in a circle, and that it makes no difference whether a man
shall see 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 deprived, 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.

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.

The soul of man does 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
happens is a separation of ourselves from nature, in some part of which the natures of all
other things are contained. In the next place, the soul does violence to itself when it turns
away from any man, or even moves towards him with the intention of injuring, such as
are the souls of those who are angry. In the third place, the soul does violence to itself
when it is overpowered by pleasure or by pain. Fourthly, when it plays a part, and does or
says anything insincerely and untruly. Fifthly, when it allows any act of its own and any
movement to be without an aim, and does anything thoughtlessly and without considering
what it is, it being right that even the smallest things be done with reference to an end;
and the end of rational animals is to follow the reason and the law of the most ancient city
and polity.

Of human life the time is a point, and the substance is in a flux, and the perception 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 stranger'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 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
continually changing into another, why should a man have any apprehension about the
change and dissolution of all the elements? For it is according to nature, and nothing is
evil which is according to nature.

This in Carnuntum.
Book Three
We ught 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
comprehension of things, and retain the power of contemplation which strives to acquire
the knowledge of the divine and the human. For if he shall begin to fall into dotage,
perspiration and nutrition and imagination and appetite, and whatever 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 clearly separating all appearances, and considering whether a man
should now depart from life, and whatever else of the kind absolutely requires 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.

We ought to observe also that even the things which follow after the things which are
produced according to nature contain something pleasing and attractive. For instance,
when bread is baked some parts are split at the surface, and these parts which thus open,
and have a certain fashion contrary to the purpose of the baker's art, are 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 circumstance of their being near to
rottenness adds a 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 universe, 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 see even the real gaping 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.

Hippocrates after curing many diseases himself fell sick and died. The Chaldaei foretold
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.
Heraclitus, after so many speculations on the conflagration 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 sensation, thou wilt cease to
be held by pains 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.
Do not waste the remainder of thy life in thoughts about others, when thou dost not refer
thy thoughts to some object of common utility. For thou losest the opportunity of doing
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 useless, 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 thou 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 minister of the gods, using too the deity which
is planted within him, which makes the man uncontaminated by pleasure, unharmed by
any pain, untouched by any insult, 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 without great necessity and for the general interest, imagining what another says, or
does, or thinks. For it is only what belongs to himself that he makes the matter for his
activity; and he constantly thinks of that which is allotted to himself out of the sum total
of things, and he makes his own acts fair, and he is persuaded that his own portion is
good. For the lot which is assigned to each man is carried along with him and carries him
along with it. And he remembers also that every rational animal is his kinsman, and that
to care for all men is according 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 are both at home and from
home, both by night and by day, and what they are, and with what men they live an
impure life. Accordingly, he does not value at all the praise which comes from such men,
since they are not even satisfied with themselves.

Labour not unwillingly, nor without regard 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 being, 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 tranquility
which others give. A man then must stand erect, not be kept erect by others.

If thou findest 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 carefully examines all the impressions, and, as Socrates said, has detached
itself from the persuasions of sense, and has submitted itself to the gods, and cares for
mankind; if thou findest 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 practically 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 maintain thy judgement without arrogance: only take care that thou makest the
inquiry by a sure method.

Never value anything as profitable to thyself which shall compel thee to break thy
promise, 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 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 immediately, 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.

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 too closely bound to other
things, nor yet detached from other things, nothing worthy of blame, nothing which seeks
a hiding-place.

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

Throwing away then all things, hold to these only which are few; and 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 uncertain. 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 succession of poor human beings,
who will very soon die, and who know not even themselves, much less him who died
long ago.

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 see distinctly
what kind of a thing it is in its substance, in its nudity, 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 productive of elevation of mind as to
be able to examine 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 are 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,
manliness, 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 spinning of the thread of destiny, and such-like coincidence and
chance; and this is from one of the same stock, and a kinsman and partner, one who
knows not however what is according to his nature. But I know; for this reason I behave
towards him according to the natural law of fellowship with benevolence and justice. At
the same time however in things indifferent I attempt to ascertain the value of each.

If thou workest at that which is before thee, following right reason seriously, vigorously,
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 holdest to this, expecting
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.

As physicians have always their instruments and knives ready for cases which suddenly
require their skill, so do thou have principles ready for the understanding of things divine
and human, and for doing everything, even the smallest, with a recollection of the bond
which 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.

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
throwing away idle hopes, come to thy own aid, if thou carest at all for thyself, while it is
in thy power.

They know not how many things are signified by the words stealing, sowing, buying,
keeping quiet, seeing what ought to be done; for this is not effected by the eyes, but by
another kind of vision.
Body, soul, intelligence: to the body belong sensations, to the soul appetites, to the
intelligence principles. To receive the impressions of forms by means of appearances
belongs 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 be 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, following it obediently as a god, neither saying anything contrary to
the truth, nor doing anything 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 does
he deviate from the way which 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.

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 and is presented to
it. For it requires no definite material, 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 appropriates to itself the matter which is heaped on it, and
consumes it, and rises higher by means of this very material.

Let no act be done without a purpose, nor otherwise than according to the perfect
principles of art.

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 either 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 perfect tranquility; and I affirm that tranquility is
nothing else than the good ordering of the mind. Constantly then give to thyself this
retreat, 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 returnest. For with what
art thou discontented? With the badness of men? Recall to thy mind this conclusion, that
rational 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; either 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.- See 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 changeableness
and want of judgement in those who 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 what kind
of people are 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 are two. One is that things do not touch the soul, for
they are external and remain immovable; but our perturbations come only from the
opinion which is within. The other is that all these things, which thou seest, change
immediately and will no longer be; and constantly bear in mind how many of these
changes thou hast already witnessed. The universe is transformation: life is opinion.

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 are members of some political community; if this is so,
the world is in a manner a state. For of what other common political community will any
one say that the whole human race are members? And from thence, from this common
political community 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 certain earth, and that which is watery from another element, and that which
is hot and fiery from some peculiar source (for nothing comes out of that which is
nothing, as nothing also returns to non-existence), so also the intellectual part comes from
some source.

Death is such as generation is, a mystery of nature; a composition out of the same
elements, 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 contrary to the reason of our constitution.

It is natural that these things should be done by such persons, it is a matter of necessity;
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.

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.

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

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

Consider that everything which happens, happens justly, 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 assigns 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
understood to be good. Keep to this in every action.

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.

A man should always have these two rules in readiness; the one, to do only whatever 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 who sets thee right and moves thee from
any opinion. But this change of opinion must proceed only from a certain persuasion, as
of what is just or of common advantage, and the like, not because it appears pleasant or
brings reputation.

Hast thou reason? I have.- Why then dost not thou use it? For if this does its own work,
what else dost thou wish?

Thou hast existed as a part. Thou shalt disappear in that which produced thee; but rather
thou shalt be received back into its seminal principle by transmutation.

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

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.

Do not act as if thou wert going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over thee. While
thou livest, while it is in thy power, be good.

How much trouble he 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.

He who has a vehement desire for posthumous 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
transmitted through men who foolishly admire and perish. But suppose that those who
will remember are even immortal, and that the remembrance 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 except indeed so far as it has a certain utility? For thou now rejectest unseasonably
the gift of nature, clinging to something else...

Everything which is in any way beautiful is beautiful in itself, and terminates in itself, not
having praise as part of itself. Neither worse then nor better is a thing made by being
praised. I affirm this also of the things which are called beautiful by 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?

If souls continue to exist, how does the air contain them from eternity?- But how does 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 certain 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
being 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 nevertheless this earth
receives them by reason of the changes of these bodies into blood, and the
transformations into the aerial or the fiery element.

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.

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

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 are 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?

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 tranquility 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.

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.

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 and spun 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.

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 sympathetic.

A black character, a womanish character, a stubborn character, bestial, childish, animal,

stupid, counterfeit, scurrilous, fraudulent, tyrannical.

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.

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 means
of living out of my learning, and I abide by my reason.

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.

Consider, for example, the times of Vespasian. Thou wilt see all these things, people
marrying, bringing up children, sick, dying, warring, feasting, trafficking, cultivating the
ground, flattering, obstinately arrogant, suspecting, plotting, wishing for some to die,
grumbling about the present, loving, heaping up treasure, desiring counsulship, kingly
power. 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 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
accordance 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 smaller matters no further than is fit.

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, Volesus,
Leonnatus, and a little after also Scipio and Cato, then Augustus, then also Hadrian and
Antoninus. For all things soon pass away and become a mere tale, and complete oblivion
soon buries them. And I say this of those who have shone in a wondrous way. 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 flowing from a principle and
source of the same kind.

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

Everything is only for a day, both that which remembers and that which is remembered.

Observe constantly that all things take place by change, and accustom thyself to consider
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.

Thou wilt soon die, and thou art not yet simple, not free from perturbations, nor without
suspicion of being hurt by external things, nor kindly disposed towards all; nor dost thou
yet place wisdom only in acting justly.

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

What is evil to thee does not subsist in the ruling principle of another; nor yet in any
turning and mutation of thy corporeal covering. Where is it then? It is in that part of thee
in which subsists the power of forming opinions 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 burnt,
filled with matter and rottenness, nevertheless 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
happen equally to the bad man and the good. For that which happens equally to him who
lives contrary to nature and to him who lives according to nature, is neither according to
nature nor contrary to nature.
Constantly regard the universe as one living being, having one substance and one soul;
and observe how all things have reference to one perception, the perception of this one
living being; and how all things act with one movement; and how all things are the
cooperating causes of all things which exist; observe too the continuous spinning of the
thread and the contexture of the web.

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

It is no evil for things to undergo change, and no good for things to subsist in
consequence of change.

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.

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.

In the series of things those which follow are 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 connection: and as all existing things are
arranged together harmoniously, so the things which come into existence exhibit no mere
succession, but a certain wonderful relationship.

Always remember the saying of Heraclitus, 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
reversely. 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 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.

If any god told thee that thou shalt die to-morrow, or certainly on the day after to-
morrow, thou wouldst not care much whether it was on the third day or on the morrow,
unless 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-
morrow.

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, Helice 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 observe how ephemeral and worthless human things are,
and what was yesterday a little mucus to-morrow will be a mummy or ashes. Pass 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 who produced it, and thanking the
tree on which it grew.

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
misfortune, 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 will of nature. Will then this which has happened prevent thee
from being just, magnanimous, temperate, prudent, secure against inconsiderate opinions
and falsehood; will it prevent thee from having modesty, 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 principle: not that this is a misfortune,
but that to bear it nobly is good fortune.

It is a vulgar, but still a useful help towards 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 generations?

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.

Book Five

In he morning when thou risest unwillingly, let this thought be present- I am rising to the
work of a human being. Why then am I dissatisfied if I am going to do the things for
which I exist and for which I was brought into the world? Or have I 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 little
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:
she has fixed bounds both to eating and drinking, 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 exhaust themselves in working
at them unwashed and without food; but thou valuest thy own own nature less than the
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 perfect the
things which they care for. But are the acts which concern society more vile in thy eyes
and less worthy of thy labour?

How easy it is to repel and to wipe away every impression which is troublesome or
unsuitable, and immediately to be in all tranquility.

Judge every word and deed which are according 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 unworthy 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.

I go through the things which happen according 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.

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 see
how many qualities thou art immediately able to exhibit, in which there is no excuse of
natural incapacity and unfitness, and yet thou still remainest voluntarily below the mark?
Or art thou compelled through being defectively furnished 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 neglecting it nor yet taking pleasure in thy dulness.
One man, when he has done a service to another, is ready to set it down to his account 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 manner, 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.

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.

Just as we must understand when it is said, That Aesculapius prescribed to this man
horse-exercise, or bathing in cold water or going 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 things
are 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 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, destiny) 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 prescriptions are
disagreeable, but we accept them in the hope of health. Let the perfecting and
accomplishment of the things, which the common 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 manner 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 power 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 either of the parts or of the causes. And
thou dost cut off, as far as it is in thy power, when thou art dissatisfied, and in a manner
triest to put anything out of the way.

Be not disgusted, nor discouraged, nor dissatisfied, if thou dost not succeed in doing
everything according to right principles; but when thou bast failed, return back again, and
be content if the greater part of what thou doest is consistent with man's nature, and love
this to which thou returnest; 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
requires; 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
wisdom itself, when thou thinkest of the security and the happy course of all things which
depend on the faculty of understanding and knowledge?

Things are in such a kind of envelopment that they have seemed to philosophers, not a
few nor those common philosophers, altogether unintelligible; nay even to the Stoics
themselves they seem difficult 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 worthless, and that they may be in the possession
of a filthy wretch or a whore or a robber. Then turn to the morals of those 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 happen 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 no man who will compel me to this.

About what am I now employing my own soul? On every occasion I must ask myself this
question, and inquire, what have I now in this part of me which they call the ruling
principle? And whose soul have I now? That of a child, or of a young man, or of a feeble
woman, or of a tyrant, or of a domestic animal, or of a wild beast?

What kind of things those are which appear good to the many, we may learn even from
this. For if any man should conceive certain things as being really good, such as
prudence, temperance, justice, fortitude, he would not after having first conceived these
endure to listen to anything which should not be in harmony 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 value and think those things to be good, to which after their
first conception in the mind the words of the comic writer might be aptly applied- that he
who has them, through pure abundance has not a place to ease himself in.

I am composed of the formal and the material; and neither of them will perish into non-
existence, as neither of them came into existence out of non-existence. Every 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.

Reason and the reasoning art (philosophy) are powers which are sufficient for themselves
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 catorthoseis or right acts, which word signifies that they proceed by
the right road.

None of these things ought to be called a man's, which do not belong to a man, as man.
They are not required of a man, nor does man's nature promise them, nor are they the
means of man's nature attaining its end. Neither then does the end of man lie in these
things, nor yet that which aids to the accomplishment of this end, and that which aids
towards 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 indeed 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 patiently he endures the loss, just in the
same degree he is a better man.

Such as are 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
inferior 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.

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

Nothing happens to any man which he is not formed by nature to bear. The same things
happen to another, and either because he does not see that they have happened or because
he would show a great spirit he is firm and remains unharmed. It is a shame then that
ignorance and conceit should be stronger than wisdom.

Things themselves touch not the soul, not in the least degree; nor have they admission 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.

In one respect man is the nearest thing to me, so far as I must do good to men and endure
them. But so far as some men make themselves obstacles to my proper acts, man
becomes to me one of the things which are indifferent, no less than the sun or wind or a
wild beast. Now it is true that these may impede 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 hindrance 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.

Reverence that which is best in the universe; and this is that which makes use of all
things and directs all things. And in like manner 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
everything else, is this, and thy life is directed by this.

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.

Often think of the rapidity with which things pass by and disappear, both the things
which are and the things which are produced. For substance is like a river in a continual
flow, and the activities of things are in constant change, and the causes work in infinite
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 disappear.
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.

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.
Does 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.

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 circumscribe
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 itself
add to the sensation the opinion that it is either good or bad.

Live with the gods. And he does live with the gods who constantly shows to them, his
own soul is satisfied with that which is assigned to him, and that it does all that the
daemon wishes, which Zeus hath given to every man for his guardian and guide, a
portion of himself. And this is every man's understanding and reason.

Art thou angry with him whose armpits stink? Art thou angry with him whose mouth
smells foul? What good will this danger 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 rational faculty
stir up his rational faculty; show him his error, admonish him. For if he listens, thou wilt
cure him, and there is no need of anger. Neither tragic actor nor whore...

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
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
rational and social animal.

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.

How hast thou 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 passed 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 pleasures 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.

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 (revolutions)
administers the universe.

Soon, very soon, thou wilt be ashes, or a skeleton, and either a name or not even a name;
but name is sound and echo. And the things which are much valued in life are empty and
rotten and trifling, and like little dogs biting one another, and little children quarrelling,
laughing, and then straightway weeping. But fidelity and modesty and justice and truth
are fled

Up to Olympus from the wide-spread earth. What then is there which still detains thee
here? If the objects of sense are easily changed and never stand still, and the organs of
perception are dull and easily receive false impressions; 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 tranquility for thy end, whether it is extinction or
removal to another 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-restraint; but as to everything which is beyond the limits of the poor flesh and
breath, to remember that this is neither thine nor in thy power.

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 are 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 disposition to justice and the practice of it, and
in this to let thy desire find its termination.

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?

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 matters
which are 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 are?-
Yes; but they are objects of great concern 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 soul, good emotions, good actions.
 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
reason.

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 something else. For it is one of the acts of life, this
act by which we die: it is sufficient then in this act also to do well what we have in hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

In conformity to the nature of the universe 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.

The universe is either a confusion, and a mutual involution of things, and a dispersion; 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 anything
else than how I shall at last become earth? And why am I disturbed, for the dispersion 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.

When thou hast been compelled by circumstances 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 harmony by continually recurring to it.

If thou hadst a step-mother and a mother at the same time, thou wouldst be dutiful to thy
step-mother, but still thou wouldst constantly 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 meetest with in the court appears to thee
tolerable, and thou appearest tolerable in the court.

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 are these impressions, and they reach the things
themselves and penetrate them, and so we see what kind of things they are. Just in the
same way ought we to act all through life, and where there are things which appear most
worthy of our approbation, we ought to lay them bare and look at their worthlessness 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
Xenocrates himself.

Most of the things which the multitude admire are referred to objects of the most general
kind, those which are held together by cohesion or natural organization, such as stones,
wood, fig-trees, vines, olives. But those which are admired by men who are a little more
reasonable are referred to the things which are held together by a living principle, as
flocks, herds. Those which are admired by men who are still more instructed are the
things which are held together by a rational soul, not however 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 possesses a number of slaves. But he who values 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.

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 are
continually renewing the world, just as the uninterrupted 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 already 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 receive at thy birth
yesterday and the day before, to give it back to the element from which thou didst first
draw it.

Neither is transpiration, as in plants, a thing to be valued, nor respiration, as in

domesticated animals and wild beasts, nor the receiving 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 valuing? This in my
opinion, to move thyself and to restrain thyself in conformity to thy proper constitution,
to which end both all employments 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 education and the teaching of youth aim at something. In this
then is the value of the education 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 reverence 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.

Above, below, all around are the movements of the elements. But the motion of virtue is
in none of these: it is something more divine, and advancing by a way hardly observed it
goes happily on its road.

How strangely men act. They will not praise those who are living at the same time and
living with themselves; but to be themselves praised by posterity, by those whom they
have never seen or ever will see, 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.

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 nature, think that this can
be attained by thyself too.

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 suspect 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 gymnasium.
For it is in our power, as I said, to get out of the way, and to have no suspicion nor hatred.

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.
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.

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 occasions 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 sufficient.

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.

Consider how many things in the same indivisible time take place in each of us, things
which concern the body and things which concern 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.

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 angry,
wilt thou be angry too? Wilt thou not go on with composure and number every letter? 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 being disturbed or showing anger towards those who are
angry with thee to go on thy way and finish that which is set before thee.

How cruel it is not to allow men to strive after the things which appear to them to be
suitable to their nature and profitable! 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 suitable to their nature and profitable to
them.- But it is not so.- Teach them then, and show them without being angry.

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.

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

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
social acts. Do everything as a disciple of Antoninus. 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 efforts to understand things; and how he would never let anything pass without having
first most carefully examined it and clearly understood 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 timid, 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 evacuations except at the usual
hour; and his firmness 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 anything better; and how religious he was without superstition. Imitate all
this that thou mayest have as good a conscience, when thy last hour comes, as he had.

Return to thy sober senses and call thyself 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).

I 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
indifferent, which are not the works of its own activity. But whatever things are the
works of its own activity, all these are in its power. And of these however only those
which are done with reference to the present; for as to the future and the past activities of
the mind, even these are for the present indifferent.

Neither the labour which the hand does nor that of the foot is contrary to nature, so long
as the foot does 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 does the things of a man. But if the
labour is not contrary to his nature, neither is it an evil to him.

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

Dost thou not see how the handicraftsmen accommodate themselves up to a certain point
to those who are 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 architect
and the physician shall have more respect to the reason (the principles) of their own arts
than man to his own reason, which is common to him and the gods?

Asia, Europe are 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,
changeable, perishable. All things come from thence, from that universal ruling power
either directly proceeding or by way of sequence. And accordingly 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.
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 are of one
kin and of one form.

Frequently consider the connexion of all things in the universe and their relation to one
another. For in a manner all things are implicated 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 conspiration and the unity of the substance.

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.

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 are 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 intelligence. And thus also in the universe the
things which belong to it are in conformity to intelligence.

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

We are all working together to one end, some with knowledge and design, and others
without knowing what they do; as men also when they are 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-
operate abundantly, 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 certainly make a right use of thee, and he will receive thee among some part
of the co-operators 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.

Does 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 different
and yet they work together to the same end?

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 forethought;
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 have not determined about me individually, they have
certainly determined about the whole at least, and the things which happen by way of
sequence 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
believe 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 inquire about that which is useful; and that is useful to every man which is
conformable to his own constitution and nature. But my nature 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. 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 profitable also to other men. But let the word profitable be taken
here in the common sense as said of things of the middle kind, neither good nor bad.

As it happens to thee in the amphitheatre and such places, that the continual sight of the
same things and the uniformity make the spectacle wearisome, so it is in the whole of
life; for all things above, below, are the same and from the same. How long then?

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 Philistion and Phoebus and Origanion.
Now turn thy thoughts to the other kinds of men. To that place then we must remove,
where there are so many great orators, and so many noble philosophers, Heraclitus,
Pythagoras, Socrates; so many heroes of former days, and so many generals after them,
and tyrants; besides 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 are altogether unknown? One thing here is worth a great deal,
to pass thy life in truth and justice, with a benevolent disposition even to liars and unjust
men.

When thou wishest 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 are 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 before us.

Thou art not dissatisfied, I suppose, because 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 be content with the time.

Let us try to persuade them (men). But 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 thyself
to contentment and tranquility, and at the same time employ the hindrance towards the
exercise of some other virtue; and remember that thy attempt was with a reservation, that
thou didst not desire to do impossibilities. What then didst thou desire?- Some such effort
as this.- But thou attainest thy object, if the things to which thou wast moved are
accomplished.

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

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.

Accustom thyself to attend carefully to what is said by another, and as much as it is

possible, be in the speaker's mind.

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

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?

How many together with whom I came into the world are already gone out of it.

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?

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.

What kind of people are those whom men wish 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.
Book Seven

What is badness? It is that which thou hast often seen. And on the occasion of everything
which happens 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.

How can our principles become dead, unless the impressions (thoughts) which
correspond 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 external 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.

The idle business of show, plays on the 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
burden-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.

In discourse thou must attend to what is said, and in every movement thou must observe
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.

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 either 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 whatsoever 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.

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.

Be not ashamed to be helped; for it is thy business to do thy duty like a soldier in the
assault 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?

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.

All things are implicated with one another, and the bond is holy; and there is hardly
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.

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 everything
is very soon overwhelmed in time.

To the rational animal the same act is according to nature and according to reason.
Be thou erect, or be made erect.
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 perception of this will be more apparent to thee, if thou often sayest to thyself
that I am a member (melos) of the system of rational beings. But if (using the letter r)
thou sayest that thou art a part (meros) 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.

Let there fall externally what will 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 happened is an evil, am not injured. And it is in my power not to think so.

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

The ruling faculty does not disturb itself; I mean, does 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 subject
to fear, to pain, which has completely the power of forming an opinion about these
things, will suffer nothing, 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.

Eudaemonia (happiness) is a good daemon, or a good thing. What then art thou doing
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. I am not angry with thee: only
go away.

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?

Through the universal substance as through a furious torrent all bodies are carried, being
by their nature united with and cooperating with the whole, as the parts of our body with
one another. How many a Chrysippus, how many a Socrates, how many an Epictetus has
time already swallowed up? And let the same thought occur to thee with reference to
every man and thing.

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

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

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 are kinsmen, and that they do wrong through ignorance
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.

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
hardship for the vessel to be broken up, just as there was none in its being fastened
together.

A scowling look is altogether unnatural; when it is often assumed, the result is that all
comeliness dies away, and at last is so completely 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 depart, what reason is there for living any
longer?

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.

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.

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 reflect how eagerly they would have been sought, if
thou hadst them not. At the same time however take care that thou dost not through being
so pleased with them accustom thyself to overvalue them, so as to be disturbed if ever
thou shouldst not have them.

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 tranquility.

Wipe out the imagination. Stop the pulling of the strings. Confine thyself to the present.
Understand well what happens either to thee or to another. Divide and distribute every
object into the causal (formal) and the material. Think of thy last hour. Let the wrong
which is done by a man stay there where the wrong was done.
Direct thy attention to what is said. Let thy understanding enter into the things that are
doing and the things which do them.

Adorn thyself with simplicity and modesty and with indifference towards the things
which lie between virtue and vice. Love mankind. Follow God. The poet says that Law
rules all.- And it is enough to remember that Law rules all.

About death: Whether it is a dispersion, or a resolution into atoms, or annihilation, it is

either extinction or change.

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

About fame: Look at the minds of those who seek fame, observe what they are, 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.

From Plato: The man who has an elevated mind and takes a view of all time and of all
substance, dost thou suppose 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.

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

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.

It is not right to vex ourselves at things,

For they care nought about it.

To the immortal gods and us give joy.

Life must be reaped like the ripe ears of corn:

One man is born; another dies.

If gods care not for me and for my children,

There is a reason for it.

For the good is with me, and the just.

No joining others in their wailing, no violent emotion.

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
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.

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 nothing into the reckoning, either death or anything
else, before the baseness of deserting his post.

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 live.

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 terrene life.

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, armies, 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 combination of contraries.

Consider the past; such great changes of political supremacies. Thou mayest foresee also
the things which will be. For they will certainly 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 see?

That which has grown from the earth to the earth,

But that which has sprung from heavenly seed,
Back to the heavenly realms returns. This is either a dissolution of the mutual involution
of the atoms, or a similar dispersion of the unsentient elements.

With food and drinks and cunning magic arts

Turning the channel's course to 'scape from death.
The breeze which heaven has sent
We must endure, and toil without complaining.

Another may be more expert in casting his opponent; but he is not more social, nor more
modest, nor better disciplined to meet all that happens, nor more considerate with respect
to the faults of his neighbours.

Where any work can be done conformably 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 according to our constitution, there no harm is
to be suspected.

Everywhere and at all times it is in thy power piously to acquiesce in thy present
condition, and to behave 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.

Do not look around thee to discover other men's ruling principles, but look straight to
this, to what nature leads thee, both the universal nature through the things which happen
to thee, and thy own nature through the acts which must be done by thee. But every being
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 constitution is the social. And the second is not to yield
to the persuasions of the body, for it is the peculiar office of the rational and intelligent
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 freedom 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.

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.

Love that only which happens to thee and is spun with the thread of thy destiny. For what
is more suitable?

In everything which happens keep before 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 are they? Nowhere. Why then dost thou too choose to act in
the same way? And why dost thou not leave these agitations which are 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
remember...

Look within. Within is the fountain of good, and it will ever bubble up, if thou wilt ever
dig.

The body ought to be compact, and to show no irregularity either in motion or attitude.
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.

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 firm to meet onsets which are sudden and unexpected.

Constantly observe who those are whose approbation thou wishest to have, and what
ruling principles they possess. For then thou wilt neither blame those who offend
involuntarily, nor wilt thou want their approbation, if thou lookest to the sources of their
opinions and appetites.

Every soul, the philosopher says, is involuntarily 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 constantly in mind, for thus thou wilt be more
gentle towards all.

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 does not damage the intelligence either 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 perceive 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.

Take care not to feel towards the inhuman, as they feel towards men.
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 endurance, 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
true. 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 himself a slave to any man's
ignorance, nor receiving as strange anything that fell to his share out of the universal, nor
enduring it as intolerable, nor allowing his understanding to sympathize with the affects
of the miserable flesh.

Nature has not so mingled the intelligence with the composition of the body, as not to
have allowed thee the power of circumscribing thyself and of bringing under subjection
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
becoming a dialectician and skilled in the knowledge of nature, do not for this reason
renounce the hope of being both free and modest and social and obedient to God.
It is in thy power to live free from all compulsion in the greatest tranquility 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 members of this kneaded matter which has grown around thee. For what
hinders the mind in the midst of all this from maintaining itself in tranquility and in a just
judgement of all surrounding things and in a ready use of the objects which are presented
to it, so that the 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 relationship either to God or man, and is neither new
nor difficult to handle, but usual and apt matter to work on.

The perfection of moral character consists in this, in passing every day as the last, and in
being neither violently excited nor torpid nor playing the hypocrite.

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, who art destined to end so soon, art thou
wearied of enduring the bad, and this too when thou art one of them?

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.

Whatever the rational and political (social) faculty finds to be neither intelligent nor
social, it properly judges to be inferior to itself.

When thou hast done a good 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?

No man is tired of receiving what is useful. But it is useful to act according to nature. Do
not then be tired of receiving what is useful by doing it to others.

The nature of the An moved to make the universe. But now either 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 shalt seem
to others, and be content if thou shalt 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 anywhere. Where is it
then? In doing what 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 does not make him
just, temperate, manly, free; and that there is nothing bad, which does not do the contrary
to what has been mentioned.

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?

Alexander and Gaius 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?

Consider that men will do the same things nevertheless, even though thou shouldst burst.

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
Augustus. 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
demands, 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.

The nature of the universal has this work to do, to remove to that place the things which
are in this, to change them, to take them away hence, and to carry them there. All things
are change, yet we need not fear anything new. All things are familiar to us; but the
distribution of them still remains the same.

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
aversions to the things which are in its power, and when it is satisfied with everything
that is assigned 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), activity, and incident. But
examine, not to discover 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 together of another.

Thou hast not leisure or ability to read. But thou hast leisure or ability to check
arrogance: thou hast leisure to be superior to pleasure and pain: thou hast leisure to be
superior to love of fame, and not to be vexed at stupid and ungrateful people, nay even to
care for them.

Let no man any longer hear thee finding fault with the court life or with thy own.

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 refused any sensual pleasure. Pleasure then
is neither good nor useful.

This thing, what is it in itself, in its own constitution? What is its substance and material?
And what its causal nature (or form)? And what is it doing in the world? And how long
does it subsist?

When thou risest from sleep with reluctance, remember that it is according to thy
constitution and according to human nature to perform social acts, but sleeping is
common also to irrational animals. But that which is according to each individual's nature
is also more peculiarly its own, and more suitable to its nature, and indeed also more
agreeable.

Constantly and, if it be possible, on the occasion of every impression on the soul, apply to
it the principles of Physic, of Ethic, and of Dialectic.

Whatever man thou meetest with, immediately say to thyself: What opinions has this man
about good and bad? For if with respect 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.

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.

Remember that to change thy opinion and to follow him who corrects thy error is as
consistent with freedom as 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.

If a thing is in thy own power, why dost thou do it? But if it is in the power of another,
whom dost thou blame? The atoms (chance) or the gods? Both are 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.

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 are elements of the universe and of thyself. And
these too change, and they murmur not.

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 of the gods will say the same. For what
purpose then art thou? to enjoy pleasure? See if common sense allows this.

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.

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 remembered:
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.

Attend to the matter which is before thee, whether it is an opinion or an act or a word.

Thou sufferest this justly: for thou choosest rather to become good to-morrow than to be
good to-day.

Am I doing anything? I do it with reference 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 happens is derived.

Such as bathing appears to thee- oil, sweat, dirt, filthy water, all things disgusting- so is
every part of life and everything.

Lucilla saw Verus die, and then Lucilla died. Secunda saw Maximus die, and then
Secunda died. Epitynchanus saw Diotimus die, and Epitynchanus died. Antoninus saw
Faustina die, and then Antoninus died. Such is everything. Celer saw Hadrian die, and
then Celer died. And those sharp-witted men, either seers or men inflated with pride,
where are they? For instance the sharp-witted men, Charax and Demetrius the Platonist
and Eudaemon, 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 disappeared even from fables. Remember this then, that this
little compound, thyself, must either be dissolved, or thy poor breath must be
extinguished, or be removed and placed elsewhere.

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 despise 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.

There are 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.

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 maintain its own serenity and tranquility, and not to
think that pain is an evil. For every judgement and movement and desire and aversion is
within, and no evil ascends so high.

Wipe out thy imaginations by often saying to thyself: now it is in my power to let no
badness be in this soul, nor desire nor any perturbation 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.

Speak both in the senate and to every man, whoever he may be, appropriately, not with
any affectation: use plain discourse.

Augustus' court, wife, daughter, descendants, ancestors, sister, Agrippa, kinsmen,

intimates, friends, Areius, Maecenas, physicians 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 consider 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.

It is thy duty to order thy life well in every single act; and if every act does its duty, as far
as is possible, be content; and no one is able to hinder thee so that each act shall not do its
duty.- But something external will stand in the way.- Nothing will stand in the way of thy
acting justly and soberly and considerately.- But perhaps some other active power will be
hindered.- Well, but by acquiescing in the hindrance and by being content to transfer thy
efforts to that which is allowed, another opportunity of action is immediately put before
thee in place of that which was hindered, and one which will adapt itself to this ordering
of which we are speaking.

Receive wealth or prosperity without arrogance; and be ready to let it go.

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 himself, as far as he can, who is not content with
what happens, and separates himself from others, or does 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 allowed 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
universal; and when he has been separated, he has allowed him to return and to be united
and to resume his place as a part.

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 converts and
fixes in its predestined place everything 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
hindrance its own material, and to use it for such purposes as it may have designed.

Do not disturb thyself by thinking of the whole of thy life. Let not thy thoughts at once
embrace all the various troubles which thou mayest expect to befall thee: but on every
occasion ask thyself, What is there in this which is intolerable and past bearing? For thou
wilt be ashamed to confess. In the next place remember that neither the future nor the
past pains thee, but only the present. But this is reduced to a very little, if thou only
circumscribest it, and chidest thy mind, if it is unable to hold out against even this.

Does Panthea or Pergamus now sit by the tomb of Verus? Does Chaurias or Diotimus 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 become 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.

If thou canst see sharp, look and judge wisely, says the philosopher.

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 temperance.

If thou takest away thy opinion about that which appears to give thee pain, thou thyself
standest in perfect security.- Who is this self?- The reason.- But I am not reason.- Be it
so. Let then the reason itself not trouble itself. But if any other part of thee suffers, let it
have its own opinion about itself.

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 constitution of plants. So then that which is a
hindrance to the intelligence is an evil to the intelligent nature. Apply all these things then
to thyself. Does pain or sensuous pleasure affect thee? The senses will look to that.- Has
any obstacle opposed thee in thy efforts towards an object? if indeed thou wast making
this effort absolutely (unconditionally, or without 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 injured nor even impeded. The things
however which are proper to 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.

It is not fit that I should give myself pain, for I have never intentionally given pain even
to another.

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.

See that thou secure this present time to thyself: for those who rather pursue posthumous
fame do 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?

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 conformably 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?

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.

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
insuperable 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.- Take
thy departure then from life contentedly, just as he dies who is in full activity, and well
pleased too with the things which are obstacles.

Remember that the ruling faculty is invincible, when self-collected it is satisfied with
itself, if it does nothing which it does not choose to do, even if it resist from mere
obstinacy. 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 does not fly
to this refuge is unhappy.

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
something, like a man who knows everything that happens in the world.

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 acquainted with nature, as thou wouldst be
ridiculed 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 shavings 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 own
matter and her own art.

Neither in thy actions be sluggish nor in thy conversation without method, nor wandering
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 fountain
and not a mere well? By forming thyself hourly to freedom conjoined with contentment,
simplicity and modesty.

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 purpose
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 are or who they are?

Dost thou wish to be praised by a man who curses himself thrice every hour? Wouldst
thou wish to please a man who does not please himself? Does a man please himself who
repents of nearly everything that he does?

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 diffused 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.

Generally, wickedness does no harm at all to the universe; and particularly, the
wickedness of one man does no harm 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.

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 especially for the sake of one another, still the ruling
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.

The sun appears to be poured down, and in all directions indeed it is diffused, yet it is not
effused. For this diffusion is extension: Accordingly its rays are called Extensions
[aktines] because they are extended [apo tou ekteinesthai]. 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 impetuous 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 will deprive itself of the illumination, if it does not admit it.

He who fears death either 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 acquire
another kind of sensation, thou wilt be a different kind of living being and thou wilt not
cease to live.

Men exist for the sake of one another. Teach them then or bear with them.

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.

Enter into every man's ruling faculty; and also let every other man enter into thine.
Book Nine

He ho 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 injure one another, he who transgresses her will, is clearly guilty of impiety
towards the highest 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 universal 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 the universal nature, and inasmuch 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 falsehood 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 nature,
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, but 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 injustice, and this is plainly impiety. Now with respect to the things
towards which the universal nature is equally affected- for it would not have made both,
unless it was equally affected towards both- towards these they who wish to follow nature
should be of the same mind with it, and equally affected. With respect to pain, then, and
pleasure, or death and life, or honour and dishonour, which the universal 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 happen alike to those
who are produced in continuous 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 determined powers productive of beings and of changes
and of such like successions.

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 pestilence, much more indeed
than any such corruption and change of this atmosphere which surrounds us. For this
corruption is a pestilence of animals so far as they are animals; but the other is a
pestilence of men so far as they are men.

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
pregnant and to bring forth, and all the other natural 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 when thy
soul shall fall out of this envelope. But if thou requirest also a vulgar kind of comfort
which shall reach thy 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 remember 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 ourselves. 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.

He who does wrong does wrong against himself. He who acts unjustly acts unjustly to
himself, because he makes himself bad.

He often acts unjustly who does not do a certain thing; not only he who does a certain
thing.

Thy present opinion founded on understanding, and thy present conduct directed to social
good, and thy present disposition of contentment with everything which happens- that is
enough.

Wipe out imagination: check desire: extinguish appetite: keep the ruling faculty in its
own power.

Among the animals which have not reason one life is distributed; but among reasonable
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.

All things which participate in anything which is common to them all move towards that
which is of the same kind with themselves. Everything which is earthy turns towards the
earth, everything which is liquid flows together, and everything which is of an aerial kind
does the same, so that they require something to keep them asunder, and the application
of force. Fire indeed moves upwards on account of the elemental fire, but it is so ready to
be kindled together with all the fire which is here, that even every substance which is
somewhat dry, is easily ignited, because there is less mingled with it of that which is a
hindrance to ignition. Accordingly then everything also which participates in the common
intelligent nature moves in like manner towards that which is of the same kind with itself,
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 devoid of reason we find 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 superior 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 political 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 flowing together is not seen. But still though men strive to
avoid this union, they are caught and held by it, for their nature is too strong for them;
and thou wilt see what I say, if thou only observest. Sooner, then, will one find anything
earthy which comes in contact with no earthy thing than a man altogether separated from
other men.

Both man and God and the universe produce fruit; at the proper seasons each produces it.
But if usage has especially fixed these terms to the vine and like things, this is nothing.
Reason produces fruit both for all and for itself, and there are produced from it other
things of the same kind as reason itself.

If thou art able, correct by teaching those who do wrong; but if thou canst not, remember
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
kind they are. And it is in thy power also; or say, who hinders thee?

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.

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 opinions.

All things are the same, familiar in experience, and ephemeral in time, and worthless in
the matter. Everything now is just as it was in the time of those whom we have buried.

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.

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 passivity, but in activity.

For the stone which has been thrown up it is no evil to come down, nor indeed any good
to have been carried up.

Penetrate inwards into men's leading principles, and thou wilt see what judges thou art
afraid of, and what kind of judges they are of themselves.

All things are changing: and thou thyself art in continuous mutation and in a manner in
continuous destruction, and the whole universe too.

It is thy duty to leave another man's wrongful act there where it is.

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
differences and changes and terminations, ask thyself, Is this anything to fear? In like
manner, then, neither are the termination and cessation and change of thy whole life a
thing to be afraid of.

Hasten to examine thy own ruling faculty 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
mayest 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
consider that his ruling faculty is akin to thine.

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.

Quarrels of little children and their sports, and poor spirits carrying about dead bodies,
such is everything; and so what is exhibited in the representation of the mansions of the
dead strikes our eyes more clearly.

Examine into the quality of the form of an object, and detach it altogether from its
material part, and then contemplate it; then determine the time, the longest which a thing
of this peculiar form is naturally made to endure.

Thou hast endured infinite troubles through not being contented with thy ruling faculty,
when it does the things which it is constituted by nature to do. But enough of this.

When another blames thee or hates thee, or when men say about thee anything injurious,
approach their poor souls, penetrate within, and see what kind of men they are. 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 are 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.

The periodic movements of the universe are the same, up and down from age to age. And
either the universal intelligence puts itself in motion for every separate effect, and if this
is so, be thou content with that which is the result of its activity; or it puts itself in motion
once, and everything else comes by way of sequence in a manner; or indivisible elements
are 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 transformations which follow one another like wave after
wave and their rapidity, he will despise everything which is perishable.

The universal cause is like a winter torrent: it carries everything along with it. But how
worthless are all these poor people who are engaged in matters political, and, as they
suppose, are playing the philosopher! All drivellers. 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 Republic: 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 Demetrius of Phalerum. They themselves shall judge whether they discovered
what the common 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 philosophy. Draw me not aside to indolence and pride.

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 among those
who are born, who live together, and die. And consider, too, the life lived by others in
olden time, 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 posthumous name is of any value, nor reputation, nor anything else.

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 terminating in this, in social acts, for this is
according to thy nature.

Thou canst remove out of the way many useless things among those which disturb thee,
for they lie entirely in thy opinion; and thou wilt then gain for thyself ample space by
comprehending the whole universe in thy mind, and by contemplating the eternity of
time, and observing the rapid change of every several thing, how short is the time from
birth to dissolution, and the illimitable time before birth as well as the equally boundless
time after dissolution.

All that thou seest will quickly perish, and those who have been spectators of its
dissolution will very soon perish too. And he who dies at the extremest old age will be
brought into the same condition with him who died prematurely.

What are these men's leading principles, and about what kind of things are they busy, and
for what kind of reasons do they love and honour? Imagine 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!
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? That 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
ceasing evil?

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 is also another thing of the
same kind, changing from this to that.

Enough of this wretched life and murmuring and apish tricks. Why art thou disturbed?
What is there new in this? What unsettles thee? Is it the form of the thing? Look at it. Or
is it the matter? Look at it. But besides these there is nothing. Towards the gods, then,
now become at last more simple and better. It is the same whether we examine these
things for a hundred years or three.

If any man has done wrong, the harm is his own. But perhaps he has not done wrong.

Either all things proceed from one intelligent 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 thou become a beast, dost thou herd and feed with the rest?

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 power, why dost thou not pray for them to give
thee the faculty of not fearing any of the things which thou fearest, 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 happen or happen? for certainly if they can co-operate with
men, they can co-operate for these purposes. 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?
Another 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.

Epicurus says, In my sickness my conversation 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
participating 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 something great, but my
life went on well and happily. Do, then, the same that he did both in sickness, if thou art
sick, and in any other circumstances; 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 principle of all schools of philosophy; but to be intent only
on that which thou art now doing and on the instrument by which thou doest it.

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 considerations 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 disposed towards every one
individually. It is useful to perceive this, too, immediately when the occasion arises, what
virtue nature has given 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 anything by which thy mind could be made worse; but that which is
evil to thee and harmful has its foundation only in the mind. And what harm is done or
what is there strange, if the man who has not been instructed does the acts of an
uninstructed man? Consider whether thou shouldst not rather blame thyself, because 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
received 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 constitutions obtain what is their own;
so also as man is formed by nature to acts of benevolence, when he has done anything
benevolent or in any other way conducive to the common interest, he has acted
conformably to his constitution, 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 without a want of any kind, longing for nothing
more, nor desiring anything, either 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 condemned by them?

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 nature, so far as thou art a rational animal,
shall not be made worse by it. But the rational animal is consequently also a political
(social) animal. Use these rules, then, and trouble thyself about nothing else.

Everything which happens either 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 either thy interest or thy duty to do this.

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.

Whatever may happen to thee, it was prepared for thee from all eternity; and the
implication of causes was from eternity spinning the thread of thy being, and of that
which is incident to it.

Whether the universe is a concourse of atoms, or nature is a system, let this first be
established, that I am a part of the whole which is governed by nature; next, I am in a
manner intimately related to the parts which are of the same kind with myself. For
remembering 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 nothing is injurious to the part, if it is for
the advantage 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 principle besides, that it cannot be compelled 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 are of the same kind with myself, I shall do
nothing unsocial, but I shall rather direct myself to the things which are of the same kind
with myself, and I shall turn an my efforts to the common interest, and divert them from
the contrary. Now, if these things are done so, life must flow 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.

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
undergo 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 condition, the parts being subject to change
and constituted 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 without 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 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 composed. 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 consumed 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 generation. 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.

When thou hast assumed these names, good, modest, true, rational, a man of equanimity,
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 intended to
signify a discriminating attention to every several thing and freedom from negligence;
and that Equanimity is the voluntary acceptance of the things which are assigned to thee
by the common nature; and that Magnanimity 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 maintainest 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 tom 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 intreat to be kept to the following day,
though they will be exposed in the same state to the 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 fallest out of them and dost not maintain thy hold, go courageously 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 remembrance of these names, it
will greatly help thee, if thou rememberest the gods, and that they wish not to be
flattered, but wish all reasonable 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.

Mimi, war, astonishment, torpor, slavery, will daily wipe out those holy principles of
thine. How many things without studying nature 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 exercised, and the confidence which comes from the knowledge of each several thing
is maintained without showing it, but yet not concealed. For when wilt thou enjoy
simplicity, when gravity, and when the knowledge of every several thing, both what it is
in substance, 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?

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 another when he has taken wild
boars, and another when he has taken bears, and another when he has taken Sarmatians.
Are not these robbers, if thou examinest their opinions?

Acquire the contemplative way of seeing how all things change into one another, and
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
sees that he must, no one knows how soon, go away from among men and leave
everything here, he gives himself up entirely to just doing in all his actions, and in
everything else that happens he resigns himself to the universal 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 contented with these two things, with acting justly in what he now does, 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.

What need is there of suspicious fear, since it is in thy power to inquire what ought to be
done? And if thou seest clear, go by this way content, without turning back: but if thou
dost not see clear, stop and take the best advisers. But if any other things oppose thee, go
on according to thy powers with due consideration, keeping to that which appears to be
just. For it is best to reach this object, and if thou dost fail, let thy failure be in attempting
this. He who follows reason in all things is both tranquil and active at the same time, and
also cheerful and collected.
Inquire of thyself as soon as thou wakest from sleep, whether it will make any difference
to thee, if another does 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 part, by means of
which there is produced, when a man chooses, fidelity, modesty, truth, law, a good
daemon (happiness)?

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 thou wilt. And he says this not proudly, but
obediently and well pleased with her.

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.

No longer talk at all about the kind of man that a good man ought to be, but be such.

Constantly contemplate the whole of time 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.

Look at everything that exists, and observe that it is already in dissolution and in change,
and as it were putrefaction or dispersion, or that everything is so constituted by nature as
to die.

Consider what men are when they are eating, sleeping, generating, easing themselves and
so forth. Then what kind of men they are when they are 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 condition they will
be.

That is for the good of each thing, which the universal nature brings to each. And it is for
its good at the time when nature brings it.

"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"?

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 besides
these things there is nothing. Be of good cheer, then.

Let this always be plain to thee, that this piece of land is like any other; and that all things
here are the same with things on 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.

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 asunder
from social life? Is it melted into and mixed with the poor flesh so as to move together
with it?

He who flies from his master is a runaway; 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 because
something has been or is or shall be of the things which are appointed by him who rules
all things, 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.

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 down through the throat, and then another cause takes it and makes
perception and motion, and in fine life and strength and other things; how many and how
strange I Observe then the things which are produced in such a hidden way, and see the
power just as we see the power which carries things downwards and upwards, not with
the eyes, but still no less plainly.

Constantly consider how all things such as they now are, 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 we see
now, only with different actors.

Imagine every man who is grieved at anything or discontented to be like a pig which is
sacrificed and kicks and screams.

Like this pig also is he who on his bed in silence laments the bonds in which we are 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.

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.

When thou art offended at any man's fault, 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.

When thou hast seen Satyron the Socratic, 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 thyself, think of any other Caesar, 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; especially 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 exercises for the reason,
when it has viewed carefully and by examination into their nature the things which
happen in life? Persevere then until thou shalt 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.

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 whoever shall think anything of this kind about 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 shalt be such. For
neither does reason allow thee to live, if thou art not such.

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 presented to thee, the doing of the things
which are conformable to man's constitution; for a man ought to consider as an
enjoyment everything 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 are many. But
intelligence and reason are able to go through everything that opposes them, and in such
manner as they are formed by nature and as they choose. Place before thy eyes this
facility with which the reason will be carried through all things, as fire upwards, as a
stone downwards, as a cylinder down an inclined surface, and seek for nothing further.
For all other obstacles either 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 happen to any of
them, that which is so affected becomes consequently worse; 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 remember that nothing harms 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 law. What
then does not harm law does not harm either state or citizen.

To him who is penetrated by true principles even the briefest precept is sufficient, and
any common precept, to remind him that he should be free from grief and fear. For
example-

Leaves, some the wind scatters on the ground-

So is the race of men. Leaves, also, are thy children; and leaves, too, are they who cry out
as if they were worthy of credit and bestow their praise, or on the contrary curse, or
secretly blame and sneer; and leaves, in like manner, are those who shall receive and
transmit a man's fame to aftertimes. For all such things as these "are produced 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 avoidest and pursuest all things as if they would be eternal. A little time, and
thou shalt close thy eyes; and him who has attended thee to thy grave another soon will
lament.

The healthy eye ought to see 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 respect 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, Let 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.

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 happen. Suppose that he was a good and wise man, will
there not be at last some one to say 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 are there for which there are 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 perchance 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 does she now dissolve 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.
Accustom thyself as much as possible on the occasion of anything being done by any
person to inquire with thyself, For what object is this man doing this? But begin with
thyself, and examine thyself first.

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 surrounds thee and these instruments which are 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.

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 itself enjoys- for the fruits of plants and that in
animals which corresponds to fruits others enjoy- 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 comprehends the periodical renovation of all things, and it comprehends that those
who come after us will see 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 property of the rational soul, love of one's neighbour, and truth and modesty, and
to value nothing more more than itself, which is also the property of Law. Thus then right
reason differs not at all from the reason of justice.

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 prevented 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 pancratium. In all things, then, except virtue and the acts of
virtue, remember to apply thyself to their several parts, and by this division to come to
value them little: and apply this rule also to thy whole life.

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
Christians, but considerately and with dignity and in a way to persuade another, without
tragic show.

Have I done something for the general interest? Well then I have had my reward. Let this
always be present to thy mind, and never stop doing such good.
What is thy art? To be good. And how is this accomplished well except by general
principles, some about the nature of the universe, and others about the proper constitution
of man?

At first tragedies were brought on the stage as means of reminding men of the things
which happen to them, and that it is according 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 see that these things must be accomplished
thus, and that even they bear them who cry out "O Cithaeron." 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 chale and fret at that which happens. And

Life's harvest reap like the wheat's fruitful ear. And other things of the same kind.

After tragedy the old comedy was introduced, which had a magisterial freedom of
speech, and by its very plainness of speaking was useful in reminding men to beware of
insolence; 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 gradually sunk down into a mere mimic
artifice. That some good things are said even by these writers, everybody knows: but the
whole plan of such poetry and dramaturgy, to what end does it look!

How plain does it appear that there is not another condition of life so well suited for
philosophising as this in which thou now happenest to be.

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, but a man by his own
act separates himself from his neighbour when he hates him and turns away from him,
and he does 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 to that which is near to us, and be to come 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 be brought to unity 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 being 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.

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.

There is no nature which is inferior to 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 natures,
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 does so too. And, indeed, hence is the origin of
justice, and in justice the other virtues have their foundation: for justice will not be
observed, if we either care for middle things (things indifferent), or are easily deceived
and careless and changeable.

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.

The spherical form of the soul maintains its figure, when it is neither extended towards
any object, nor contracted inwards, nor dispersed 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.

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 reproachfully, nor yet as making a display of my
endurance, but nobly and honestly, like the great Phocion, unless indeed he only assumed
it. For the interior parts ought to be such, and a man ought to be seen by the gods neither
dissatisfied with anything nor complaining. For what evil is it to thee, if thou art now
doing what is agreeable to thy own nature, and art satisfied with that which at this
moment is suitable to the nature of the universe, since thou art a human being placed at
thy post in order that what is for the common advantage may be done in some way?

Men despise one another and flatter one another; and men wish to raise themselves above
one another, and crouch before one another.

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 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 bystander as soon as he comes
near him must smell whether he choose or not. But the affectation 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.

As to living in the best way, this power is in the soul, if it be indifferent to things which
are indifferent. And it will be indifferent, if it looks on each of these things separately and
all together, and if it remembers that not one of them produces in us an opinion about
itself, nor comes to us; but these things remain immovable, and it is we ourselves who
produce the judgements about them, and, as we may say, write them in ourselves, 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 remember
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 doing this? For if these things are 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 towards this, even if it bring no reputation;
for every man is allowed to seek his own good.

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 it will sustain no harm.

If any have offended against thee, consider first: What is my relation to men, and that we
are made for one another; and in another 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, we ought not to be displeased; but if they do
not right, it is plain that they do so involuntarily and in ignorance. For as every soul is
unwillingly deprived of the truth, so also is it unwillingly deprived of the power of
behaving to each man according to his deserts. Accordingly men are pained when they
are called unjust, 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 certain faults, still thou hast the disposition to
commit them, though either through cowardice, or concern about reputation, or some
such mean motive, thou dost abstain from such faults.

Fifth, consider that thou dost not even understand whether men are doing wrong or not,
for many things are done with a certain reference 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 we are all laid out dead.
Seventh, that it is not men's acts which disturb us, for those acts have their foundation in
men's ruling principles, but it is our own opinions which disturb us. Take away these
opinions then, and resolve to dismiss thy judgement about an act as if it were something
grievous, and thy anger is gone. How then shall I take away these opinions? 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
everything else.

Eighth, consider how much more pain is brought on us by the anger and vexation caused
by such acts than by the acts themselves, at which we are angry and vexed.

Ninth, consider that a good disposition is invincible, 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
admonishest 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 are formed by nature to be gregarious. And thou must do
this neither with any double meaning nor in the way of reproach, but affectionately and
without any rancour in thy soul; and not as if thou wert lecturing him, nor yet that any
bystander may admire, but either when he is alone, and if others are present...

Remember 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. But thou must equally avoid flattering men
and being veied 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 mildness and gentleness, as they are more agreeable to human nature, so also are
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 passion, in the same degree
also is it nearer to strength: and as the sense of pain is a characteristic 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 expect bad men not to do wrong is madness, for he who expects this
desires an impossibility. But to allow men to behave so to others, and to expect them not
to do thee any wrong, is irrational and tyrannical.

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
honourable and to the perishable part, the body, and to its gross pleasures.

Thy aerial part and all the fiery parts which are mingled in thee, though by nature they
have an upward tendency, still in obedience 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 are raised up and
occupy a position which is not their natural one. In this manner then the elemental parts
obey the universal, for when they have been fixed in any place perforce they remain there
until again the universal shall sound the signal for dissolution. Is it not then strange that
thy intelligent part only should be disobedient and discontented 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 ruling 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 constitution of things, and
indeed they are prior to acts of justice.

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
object 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 interest; 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.

Think of the country mouse and of the town mouse, and of the alarm and trepidation of
the town mouse.

Socrates used to call the opinions of the many by the name of Lamiae, bugbears to
frighten children.

The Lacedaemonians at their public spectacles used to set seats in the shade for strangers,
but themselves sat down anywhere.

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
unable to return it.

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.

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.

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.

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 thyself. Much more is this so in life.

A slave thou art: free speech is not for thee.

And my heart laughed within.
And virtue they will curse, speaking harsh words.
To look for the fig in winter is a madman's act: such is he who looks for his child when it
is no longer allowed.

When a man kisses his child, said Epictetus, he should whisper to himself, "To-morrow
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 speak of the ears of corn being reaped."

The unripe grape, the ripe bunch, the dried grape, all are changes, not into nothing, but
into something which exists not yet.

No man can rob us of our free will.

Epictetus also said, A man must discover an art (or rules) with respect to giving his
assent; and in respect 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) he should not show it with respect to any of the things which
are not in our power.

The dispute then, he said, is not about any common matter, but about being mad or not.

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?

Book Twelve

All those things at which thou wishest to arrive 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 are 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 about thee; for the passive part will look to this. If then, whatever
the time may be when thou shalt be near to thy departure, neglecting 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 according 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.

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 usest
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 dwelling and fame and such like externals and show.

The things are three of which thou art composed, a little body, a little breath (life),
intelligence. Of these the first two are thine, so far as it is thy duty to take care of them;
but the third alone is properly thine. Therefore if thou shalt separate from thyself, that is,
from thy understanding, whatever others do or say, and whatever thou hast done or said
thyself, 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 what 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).

I have often wondered how it is that every man loves himself 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
nothing 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 think of us than to what we shall think of ourselves.

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 good men, and men who,
as we may say, have had most communion with the divinity, and through pious acts and
religious observances have been most intimate with the divinity, when they have once
died should never exist again, but should be completely 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 possible; 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 diety; 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 anything in the ordering of the universe to be neglected unjustly and irrationally.

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.

Consider in what condition both in body and soul a man should be when he is overtaken
by death; and consider the shortness of life, the boundless abyss of time past and future,
the feebleness of all matter.

Contemplate the formative principles (forms) of things bare 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.

In the application of thy principles thou must be like the pancratiast, not like the
gladiator; 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.

See what things are in themselves, dividing them into matter, form and purpose.

What a power man has to do nothing except what God will approve, and to accept all that
God may give him.

With respect to that which happens conformably to nature, we ought to blame neither
gods, for they do nothing wrong either voluntarily or involuntarily, nor men, for they do
nothing wrong except involuntarily. Consequently we should blame nobody.

How ridiculous and what a stranger he is who is surprised at anything which happens in
life.

Either there is a fatal necessity and invincible order, or a kind Providence, or a confusion
without a purpose and without a director (Book IV). If then there is an invincible
necessity, why dost thou resist? But if there is a Providence which allows itself to be
propitiated, make thyself worthy of the help of the divinity. But if there is a confusion
without governor, be content that in such a tempest thou hast in thyself a certain ruling
intelligence. 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.

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?

When a man has presented the appearance 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 himself? 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.

If it is not right, do not do it: if it is not true, do not say it. For let thy efforts be-

In everything always observe what the thing is which produces for thee an appearance,
and resolve it by dividing it into the formal, the material, the purpose, and the time within
which it must end.

Perceive at last that thou hast in thee something better and more 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?

First, do nothing inconsiderately, nor without a purpose. Second, make thy acts refer to
nothing else than to a social end.

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 are
formed by nature to change and be turned and to perish in order that other things in
continuous succession may exist.

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.

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 life, if it cease at its proper time, suffers no evil for this reason that it has
ceased; nor he who has terminated this series at the proper time, has he been ill dealt
with. But the proper time and the limit nature fixes, sometimes 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 independent of the will and not
opposed to the general interest, but it is good, since it is seasonable and profitable 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.

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
respect to what may happen to thee from without, 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 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 resolved. Third, if thou
shouldst suddenly be raised up above the earth, and shouldst look down on human things,
and observe the variety of them how great it is, and at the same time also shouldst see at a
glance how great is the number of beings who dwell 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 shortness of duration. Are these things to be proud of?

Cast away opinion: thou art saved. Who then hinders thee from casting it away?

When thou art troubled about anything, thou hast forgotten this, that all things happen
according to the universal nature; and forgotten this, that a man's wrongful act is nothing
to thee; and further thou hast forgotten this, that everything which happens, always
happened so and will happen so, and now happens 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.

Constantly bring to thy recollection those who have complained greatly about anything,
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 philosophical it is for a man in the
opportunities presented to him to show

THE END
 The Discourses

By Epictetus

Table of Contents

Book One

Chapter 1

Of the things which are in our Power, and not in our Power

Of all the faculties, you will find not one which is capable of contemplating itself; and,
consequently, not capable either of approving or disapproving. How far does the
grammatic art possess the contemplating power? As far as forming a judgement about
what is written and spoken. And how far music? As far as judging about melody. Does
either of them then contemplate itself? By no means. But when you must write something
to your friend, grammar will tell you what words you must write; but whether you should
write or not, grammar will not tell you. And so it is with music as to musical sounds; but
whether you should sing at the present time and play on the lute, or do neither, music will
not tell you. What faculty then will tell you? That which contemplates both itself and all
other things. And what is this faculty? The rational faculty; for this is the only faculty that
we have received which examines itself, what it is, and what power it has, and what is the
value of this gift, and examines all other faculties: for what else is there which tells us
that golden things are beautiful, for they do not say so themselves? Evidently it is the
faculty which is capable of judging of appearances. What else judges of music, grammar,
and other faculties, proves their uses and points out the occasions for using them?
Nothing else.

As then it was fit to be so, that which is best of all and supreme over all is the only thing
which the gods have placed in our power, the right use of appearances; but all other
things they have not placed in our power. Was it because they did not choose? I indeed
think that, if they had been able, they would have put these other things also in our
power, but they certainly could not. For as we exist on the earth, and are bound to such a
body and to such companions, how was it possible for us not to be hindered as to these
things by externals?

But what says Zeus? "Epictetus, if it were possible, I would have made both your little
body and your little property free and not exposed to hindrance. But now be not ignorant
of this: this body is not yours, but it is clay finely tempered. And since I was not able to
do for you what I have mentioned, I have given you a small portion of us, this faculty of
pursuing an object and avoiding it, and the faculty of desire and aversion, and, in a word,
the faculty of using the appearances of things; and if you will take care of this faculty and
consider it your only possession, you will never be hindered, never meet with
impediments; you will not lament, you will not blame, you will not flatter any person."
"Well, do these seem to you small matters?" I hope not. "Be content with them then and
pray to the gods." But now when it is in our power to look after one thing, and to attach
ourselves to it, we prefer to look after many things, and to be bound to many things, to
the body and to property, and to brother and to friend, and to child and to slave. Since,
then, we are bound to many things, we are depressed by them and dragged down. For this
reason, when the weather is not fit for sailing, we sit down and torment ourselves, and
continually look out to see what wind is blowing. "It is north." What is that to us? "When
will the west wind blow?" When it shall choose, my good man, or when it shall please
AEolus; for God has not made you the manager of the winds, but AEolus. What then?
We must make the best use that we can of the things which are in our power, and use the
rest according to their nature. What is their nature then? As God may please.

"Must I, then, alone have my head cut off?" What, would you have all men lose their
heads that you may be consoled? Will you not stretch out your neck as Lateranus did at
Rome when Nero ordered him to be beheaded? For when he had stretched out his neck,
and received a feeble blow, which made him draw it in for a moment, he stretched it out
again. And a little before, when he was visited by Epaphroditus, Nero's freedman, who
asked him about the cause of offense which he had given, he said, "If I choose to tell
anything, I will tell your master."

What then should a man have in readiness in such circumstances? What else than "What
is mine, and what is not mine; and permitted to me, and what is not permitted to me." I
must die. Must I then die lamenting? I must be put in chains. Must I then also lament? I
must go into exile. Does any man then hinder me from going with smiles and
cheerfulness and contentment? "Tell me the secret which you possess." I will not, for this
is in my power. "But I will put you in chains." Man, what are you talking about? Me in
chains? You may fetter my leg, but my will not even Zeus himself can overpower. "I will
throw you into prison." My poor body, you mean. "I will cut your head off." When, then,
have I told you that my head alone cannot be cut off? These are the things which
philosophers should meditate on, which they should write daily, in which they should
exercise themselves.

Thrasea used to say, "I would rather be killed to-day than banished to-morrow." What,
then, did Rufus say to him? "If you choose death as the heavier misfortune, how great is
the folly of your choice? But if, as the lighter, who has given you the choice? Will you
not study to be content with that which has been given to you?"

What, then, did Agrippinus say? He said, "I am not a hindrance to myself." When it was
reported to him that his trial was going on in the Senate, he said, "I hope it may turn out
well; but it is the fifth hour of the day"- this was the time when he was used to exercise
himself and then take the cold bath- "let us go and take our exercise." After he had taken
his exercise, one comes and tells him, "You have been condemned." "To banishment," he
replies, "or to death?" "To banishment." "What about my property?" "It is not taken from
you." "Let us go to Aricia then," he said, "and dine."

This it is to have studied what a man ought to study; to have made desire, aversion, free
from hindrance, and free from all that a man would avoid. I must die. If now, I am ready
to die. If, after a short time, I now dine because it is the dinner-hour; after this I will then
die. How? Like a man who gives up what belongs to another.

Chapter 2

How a Man on every occasion can maintain his Proper Character

To the rational animal only is the irrational intolerable; but that which is rational is
tolerable. Blows are not naturally intolerable. "How is that?" See how the
Lacedaemonians endure whipping when they have learned that whipping is consistent
with reason. "To hang yourself is not intolerable." When, then, you have the opinion that
it is rational, you go and hang yourself. In short, if we observe, we shall find that the
animal man is pained by nothing so much as by that which is irrational; and, on the
contrary, attracted to nothing so much as to that which is rational.

But the rational and the irrational appear such in a different way to different persons, just
as the good and the bad, the profitable and the unprofitable. For this reason, particularly,
we need discipline, in order to learn how to adapt the preconception of the rational and
the irrational to the several things conformably to nature. But in order to determine the
rational and the irrational, we use not only the of external things, but we consider also
what is appropriate to each person. For to one man it is consistent with reason to hold a
chamber pot for another, and to look to this only, that if he does not hold it, he will
receive stripes, and he will not receive his food: but if he shall hold the pot, he will not
suffer anything hard or disagreeable. But to another man not only does the holding of a
chamber pot appear intolerable for himself, but intolerable also for him to allow another
to do this office for him. If, then, you ask me whether you should hold the chamber pot or
not, I shall say to you that the receiving of food is worth more than the not receiving of it,
and the being scourged is a greater indignity than not being scourged; so that if you
measure your interests by these things, go and hold the chamber pot. "But this," you say,
"would not be worthy of me." Well, then, it is you who must introduce this consideration
into the inquiry, not I; for it is you who know yourself, how much you are worth to
yourself, and at what price you sell yourself; for men sell themselves at various prices.

For this reason, when Florus was deliberating whether he should go down to Nero's
spectacles and also perform in them himself, Agrippinus said to him, "Go down": and
when Florus asked Agrippinus, "Why do not you go down?" Agrippinus replied,
"Because I do not even deliberate about the matter." For he who has once brought himself
to deliberate about such matters, and to calculate the value of external things, comes very
near to those who have forgotten their own character. For why do you ask me the
question, whether death is preferable or life? I say "life." "Pain or pleasure?" I say
"pleasure." But if I do not take a part in the tragic acting, I shall have my head struck off.
Go then and take a part, but I will not. "Why?" Because you consider yourself to be only
one thread of those which are in the tunic. Well then it was fitting for you to take care
how you should be like the rest of men, just as the thread has no design to be anything
superior to the other threads. But I wish to be purple, that small part which is bright, and
makes all the rest appear graceful and beautiful. Why then do you tell me to make myself
like the many? and if I do, how shall I still be purple?

Priscus Helvidius also saw this, and acted conformably. For when Vespasian sent and
commanded him not to go into the senate, he replied, "It is in your power not to allow me
to be a member of the senate, but so long as I am, I must go in." "Well, go in then," says
the emperor, "but say nothing." "Do not ask my opinion, and I will be silent." "But I must
ask your opinion." "And I must say what I think right." "But if you do, I shall put you to
death." "When then did I tell you that I am immortal? You will do your part, and I will do
mine: it is your part to kill; it is mine to die, but not in fear: yours to banish me; mine to
depart without sorrow."

What good then did Priscus do, who was only a single person? And what good does the
purple do for the toga? Why, what else than this, that it is conspicuous in the toga as
purple, and is displayed also as a fine example to all other things? But in such
circumstances another would have replied to Caesar who forbade him to enter the senate,
"I thank you for sparing me." But such a man Vespasian would not even have forbidden
to enter the senate, for he knew that he would either sit there like an earthen vessel, or, if
he spoke, he would say what Caesar wished, and add even more.

In this way an athlete also acted who was in danger of dying unless his private parts were
amputated. His brother came to the athlete, who was a philosopher, and said, "Come,
brother, what are you going to do? Shall we amputate this member and return to the
gymnasium?" But the athlete persisted in his resolution and died. When some one asked
Epictetus how he did this, as an athlete or a philosopher, "As a man," Epictetus replied,
"and a man who had been proclaimed among the athletes at the Olympic games and had
contended in them, a man who had been familiar with such a place, and not merely
anointed in Baton's school. Another would have allowed even his head to be cut off, if he
could have lived without it. Such is that regard to character which is so strong in those
who have been accustomed to introduce it of themselves and conjoined with other things
into their deliberations."

"Come, then, Epictetus, shave yourself." "If I am a philosopher," I answer, "I will not
shave myself." "But I will take off your head?" If that will do you any good, take it off.

Some person asked, "How then shall every man among us perceive what is suitable to his
character?" How, he replied, does the bull alone, when the lion has attacked, discover his
own powers and put himself forward in defense of the whole herd? It is plain that with
the powers the perception of having them is immediately conjoined; and, therefore,
whoever of us has such powers will not be ignorant of them. Now a bull is not made
suddenly, nor a brave man; but we must discipline ourselves in the winter for the summer
campaign, and not rashly run upon that which does not concern us.

Only consider at what price you sell your own will; if for no other reason, at least for this,
that you sell it not for a small sum. But that which is great and superior perhaps belongs
to Socrates and such as are like him. "Why then, if we are naturally such, are not a very
great number of us like him?" Is it true then that all horses become swift, that all dogs are
skilled in tracking footprints? "What, then, since I am naturally dull, shall I, for this
reason, take no pains?" I hope not. Epictetus is not superior to Socrates; but if he is not
inferior, this is enough for me; for I shall never be a Milo, and yet I do not neglect my
body; nor shall I be a Croesus, and yet I do not neglect my property; nor, in a word, do
we neglect looking after anything because we despair of reaching the highest degree.

Chapter 3

How a man should proceed from the principle of God being the father of all men to the
rest

If a man should be able to assent to this doctrine as he ought, that we are all sprung from
God in an especial manner, and that God is the father both of men and of gods, I suppose
that he would never have any ignoble or mean thoughts about himself. But if Caesar
should adopt you, no one could endure your arrogance; and if you know that you are the
son of Zeus, will you not be elated? Yet we do not so; but since these two things are
mingled in the generation of man, body in common with the animals, and reason and
intelligence in common with the gods, many incline to this kinship, which is miserable
and mortal; and some few to that which is divine and happy. Since then it is of necessity
that every man uses everything according to the opinion which he has about it, those, the
few, who think that they are formed for fidelity and modesty and a sure use of
appearances have no mean or ignoble thoughts about themselves; but with the many it is
quite the contrary. For they say, "What am I? A poor, miserable man, with my wretched
bit of flesh." Wretched. Indeed; but you possess something better than your "bit of flesh."
Why then do you neglect that which is better, and why do you attach yourself to this?

Through this kinship with the flesh, some of us inclining to it become like wolves,
faithless and treacherous and mischievous: some become like lions, savage and untamed;
but the greater part of us become foxes and other worse animals. For what else is a
slanderer and a malignant man than a fox, or some other more wretched and meaner
animal? See, then, and take care that you do not become some one of these miserable
things.

Chapter 4

Of progress or improvement

He who is making progress, having learned from philosophers that desire means the
desire of good things, and aversion means aversion from bad things; having learned too
that happiness and tranquillity are not attainable by man otherwise than by not failing to
obtain what he desires, and not falling into that which he would avoid; such a man takes
from himself desire altogether and defers it, but he employs his aversion only on things
which are dependent on his will. For if he attempts to avoid anything independent of his
will, he knows that sometimes he will fall in with something which he wishes to avoid,
and he will be unhappy. Now if virtue promises good fortune and tranquillity and
happiness, certainly also the progress toward virtue is progress toward each of these
things. For it is always true that to whatever point the perfecting of anything leads us,
progress is an approach toward this point.

How then do we admit that virtue is such as I have said, and yet seek progress in other
things and make a display of it? What is the product of virtue? Tranquillity. Who then
makes improvement? It is he who has read many books of Chrysippus? But does virtue
consist in having understood Chrysippus? If this is so, progress is clearly nothing else
than knowing a great deal of Chrysippus. But now we admit that virtue produces one
thing. and we declare that approaching near to it is another thing, namely, progress or
improvement. "Such a person," says one, "is already able to read Chrysippus by himself."
Indeed, sir, you are making great progress. What kind of progress? But why do you mock
the man? Why do you draw him away from the perception of his own misfortunes? Will
you not show him the effect of virtue that he may learn where to look for improvement?
Seek it there, wretch, where your work lies. And where is your work? In desire and in
aversion, that you may not be disappointed in your desire, and that you may not fall into
that which you would avoid; in your pursuit and avoiding, that you commit no error; in
assent and suspension of assent, that you be not deceived. The first things, and the most
necessary, are those which I have named. But if with trembling and lamentation you seek
not to fall into that which you avoid, tell me how you are improving.

Do you then show me your improvement in these things? If I were talking to an athlete, I
should say, "Show me your shoulders"; and then he might say, "Here are my halteres."
You and your halteres look to that. I should reply, "I wish to see the effect of the
halteres." So, when you say: "Take the treatise on the active powers, and see how I have
studied it." I reply, "Slave, I am not inquiring about this, but how you exercise pursuit
and avoidance, desire and aversion, how your design and purpose and prepare yourself,
whether conformably to nature or not. If conformably, give me evidence of it, and I will
say that you are making progress: but if not conformably, be gone, and not only expound
your books, but write such books yourself; and what will you gain by it? Do you not
know that the whole book costs only five denarii? Does then the expounder seem to be
worth more than five denarii? Never, then, look for the matter itself in one place, and
progress toward it in another."

Where then is progress? If any of you, withdrawing himself from externals, turns to his
own will to exercise it and to improve it by labour, so as to make it conformable to
nature, elevated, free, unrestrained, unimpeded, faithful, modest; and if he has learned
that he who desires or avoids the things which are not in his power can neither be faithful
nor free, but of necessity he must change with them and be tossed about with them as in a
tempest, and of necessity must subject himself to others who have the power to procure
or prevent what he desires or would avoid; finally, when he rises in the morning, if he
observes and keeps these rules, bathes as a man of fidelity, eats as a modest man; in like
manner, if in every matter that occurs he works out his chief principles as the runner does
with reference to running, and the trainer of the voice with reference to the voice- this is
the man who truly makes progress, and this is the man who has not traveled in vain. But
if he has strained his efforts to the practice of reading books, and labours only at this, and
has traveled for this, I tell him to return home immediately, and not to neglect his affairs
there; for this for which he has traveled is nothing. But the other thing is something, to
study how a man can rid his life of lamentation and groaning, and saying, "Woe to me,"
and "wretched that I am," and to rid it also of misfortune and disappointment and to learn
what death is, and exile, and prison, and poison, that he may be able to say when he is in
fetters, "Dear Crito, if it is the will of the gods that it be so, let it be so"; and not to say,
"Wretched am I, an old man; have I kept my gray hairs for this?" Who is it that speaks
thus? Do you think that I shall name some man of no repute and of low condition? Does
not Priam say this? Does not OEdipus say this? Nay, all kings say it! For what else is
tragedy than the perturbations of men who value externals exhibited in this kind of
poetry? But if a man must learn by fiction that no external things which are independent
of the will concern us, for this? part I should like this fiction, by the aid of which I should
live happily and undisturbed. But you must consider for yourselves what you wish.

What then does Chrysippus teach us? The reply is, "to know that these things are not
false, from which happiness comes and tranquillity arises. Take my books, and you will
learn how true and conformable to nature are the things which make me free from
perturbations." O great good fortune! O the great benefactor who points out the way! To
Triptolemus all men have erected temples and altars, because he gave us food by
cultivation; but to him who discovered truth and brought it to light and communicated it
to all, not the truth which shows us how to live, but how to live well, who of you for this
reason has built an altar, or a temple, or has dedicated a statue, or who worships God for
this? Because the gods have given the vine, or wheat, we sacrifice to them: but because
they have produced in the human mind that fruit by which they designed to show us the
truth which relates to happiness, shall we not thank God for this?

Chapter 5

Against the academics

If a man, said Epictetus, opposes evident truths, it is not easy to find arguments by which
we shall make him change his opinion. But this does not arise either from the man's
strength or the teacher's weakness; for when the man, though he has been confuted, is
hardened like a stone, how shall we then be able to deal with him by argument?

Now there are two kinds of hardening, one of the understanding, the other of the sense of
shame, when a man is resolved not to assent to what is manifest nor to desist from
contradictions. Most of us are afraid of mortification of the body, and would contrive all
means to avoid such a thing, but we care not about the soul's mortification. And indeed
with regard to the soul, if a man be in such a state as not to apprehend anything, or
understand at all, we think that he is in a bad condition: but if the sense of shame and
modesty are deadened, this we call even power.

Do you comprehend that you are awake? "I do not," the man replies, "for I do not even
comprehend when in my sleep I imagine that I am awake." Does this appearance then not
differ from the other? "Not at all," he replies. Shall I still argue with this man? And what
fire or what iron shall I apply to him to make him feel that he is deadened? He does
perceive, but he pretends that he does not. He's even worse than a dead man. He does not
see the contradiction: he is in a bad condition. Another does see it, but he is not moved,
and makes no improvement: he is even in a worse condition. His modesty is extirpated,
and his sense of shame; and the rational faculty has not been cut off from him, but it is
brutalized. Shall I name this strength of mind? Certainly not, unless we also name it such
in catamites, through which they do and say in public whatever comes into their head.

Chapter 6

Of providence

From everything which is or happens in the world, it is easy to praise Providence, if a

man possesses these two qualities, the faculty of seeing what belongs and happens to all
persons and things, and a grateful disposition. If he does not possess these two qualities,
one man will not see the use of things which are and which happen; another will not be
thankful for them, even if he does know them. If God had made colours, but had not
made the faculty of seeing them, what would have been their use? None at all. On the
other hand, if He had made the faculty of vision, but had not made objects such as to fall
under the faculty, what in that case also would have been the use of it? None at all. Well,
suppose that He had made both, but had not made light? In that case, also, they would
have been of no use. Who is it, then, who has fitted this to that and that to this? And who
is it that has fitted the knife to the case and the case to the knife? Is it no one? And,
indeed, from the very structure of things which have attained their completion, we are
accustomed to show that the work is certainly the act of some artificer, and that it has not
been constructed without a purpose. Does then each of these things demonstrate the
workman, and do not visible things and the faculty of seeing and light demonstrate Him?
And the existence of male and female, and the desire of each for conjunction, and the
power of using the parts which are constructed, do not even these declare the workman?
If they do not, let us consider the constitution of our understanding according to which,
when we meet with sensible objects, we simply receive impressions from them, but we
also select something from them, and subtract something, and add, and compound by
means of them these things or those, and, in fact, pass from some to other things which,
in a manner, resemble them: is not even this sufficient to move some men, and to induce
them not to forget the workman? If not so, let them explain to us what it is that makes
each several thing, or how it is possible that things so wonderful and like the contrivances
of art should exist by chance and from their own proper motion?

What, then, are these things done in us only. Many, indeed, in us only, of which the
rational animal had peculiar need; but you will find many common to us with irrational
animals. Do they them understand what is done? By no means. For use is one thing, and
understanding is another: God had need of irrational animals to make use of appearances,
but of us to understand the use of appearances. It is therefore enough for them to eat and
to drink, and to sleep and to copulate, and to do all the other things which they severally
do. But for us, to whom He has given also the faculty, these things are not sufficient; for
unless we act in a proper and orderly manner, and conformably to the nature and
constitution of each thing, we shall never attain our true end. For where the constitutions
of living beings are different, there also the acts and the ends are different. In those
animals, then, whose constitution is adapted only to use, use alone is enough: but in an
animal which has also the power of understanding the use, unless there be the due
exercise of the understanding, he will never attain his proper end. Well then God
constitutes every animal, one to be eaten, another to serve for agriculture, another to
supply cheese, and another for some like use; for which purposes what need is there to
understand appearances and to be able to distinguish them? But God has introduced man
to be a spectator of God and of His works; and not only a spectator of them, but an
interpreter. For this reason it is shameful for man to begin and to end where irrational
animals do, but rather he ought to begin where they begin, and to end where nature ends
in us; and nature ends in contemplation and understanding, in a way of life conformable
to nature. Take care then not to die without having been spectators of these things.

But you take a journey to Olympia to see the work of Phidias, and all of you think it a
misfortune to die without having seen such things. But when there is no need to take a
journey, and where a man is, there he has the works (of God) before him, will you not
desire to see and understand them? Will you not perceive either what you are, or what
you were born for, or what this is for which you have received the faculty of sight? But
you may say, "There are some things disagreeable and troublesome in life." And are there
none in Olympia? Are you not scorched? Are you not pressed by a crowd? Are you not
without comfortable means of bathing? Are you not wet when it rains? Have you not
abundance of noise, clamour, and other disagreeable things? But I suppose that setting all
these things off against the magnificence of the spectacle, you bear and endure. Well,
then, and have you not received faculties by which you will be able to bear all that
happens? Have you not received greatness of soul? Have you not received manliness?
Have you not received endurance? And why do I trouble myself about anything that can
happen if I possess greatness of soul? What shall distract my mind or disturb me, or
appear painful? Shall I not use the power for the purposes for which I received it, and
shall I grieve and lament over what happens?

"Yes, but my nose runs." For what purpose then, slave, have you hands? Is it not that you
may wipe your nose? "Is it, then, consistent with reason that there should be running of
noses in the world?" Nay, how much better it is to wipe your nose than to find fault.
What do you think that Hercules would have been if there had not been such a lion, and
hydra, and stag, and boar, and certain unjust and bestial men, whom Hercules used to
drive away and clear out? And what would he have been doing if there had been nothing
of the kind? Is it not plain that he would have wrapped himself up and have slept? In the
first place, then he would not have been a Hercules, when he was dreaming away all his
life in such luxury and case; and even if he had been one what would have been the use
of him? and what the use of his arms, and of the strength of the other parts of his body,
and his endurance and noble spirit, if such circumstances and occasions had not roused
and exercised him? "Well, then, must a man provide for himself such means of exercise,
and to introduce a lion from some place into his country, and a boar and a hydra?" This
would be folly and madness: but as they did exist, and were found, they were useful for
showing what Hercules was and for exercising him. Come then do you also having
observed these things look to the faculties which you have, and when you have looked at
them, say: "Bring now, O Zeus, any difficulty that Thou pleasest, for I have means given
to me by Thee and powers for honoring myself through the things which happen." You
do not so; but you sit still, trembling for fear that some things will happen, and weeping,
and lamenting and groaning for what does happen: and then you blame the gods. For
what is the consequence of such meanness of spirit but impiety? And yet God has not
only given us these faculties; by which we shall be able to bear everything that happens
without being depressed or broken by it; but, like a good king and a true father, He has
given us these faculties free from hindrance, subject to no compulsion unimpeded, and
has put them entirely in our own power, without even having reserved to Himself any
power of hindering or impeding. You, who have received these powers free and as your
own, use them not: you do not even see what you have received, and from whom; some
of you being blinded to the giver, and not even acknowledging your benefactor, and
others, through meanness of spirit, betaking yourselves to fault finding and making
charges against God. Yet I will show to you that you have powers and means for
greatness of soul and manliness but what powers you have for finding fault and making
accusations, do you show me.

Chapter 7

Of the use of sophistical arguments, and hypothetical, and the like

The handling of sophistical and hypothetical arguments, and of those which derive their
conclusions from questioning, and in a word the handling of all such arguments, relates to
the duties of life, though the many do not know this truth. For in every matter we inquire
how the wise and good man shall discover the proper path and the proper method of
dealing with the matter. Let, then, people either say that the grave man will not descend
into the contest of question and answer, or that, if he does descend into the contest, he
will take no care about not conducting himself rashly or carelessly in questioning and
answering. But if they do not allow either the one or the other of these things, they must
admit that some inquiry ought to be made into those topics on which particularly
questioning and answering are employed. For what is the end proposed in reasoning? To
establish true propositions, to remove the false, to withhold assent from those which are
not plain. Is it enough then to have learned only this? "It is enough," a man may reply. Is
it, then, also enough for a man, who would not make a mistake in the use of coined
money, to have heard this precept, that he should receive the genuine drachmae and reject
the spurious? "It is not enough." What, then, ought to be added to this precept? What else
than the faculty which proves and distinguishes the genuine and the spurious drachmae?
Consequently also in reasoning what has been said is not enough; but is it necessary that
a man should acquire the faculty of examining and distinguishing the true and the false,
and that which is not plain? "It is necessary." Besides this, what is proposed in reasoning?
"That you should accept what follows from that which you have properly granted." Well,
is it then enough in this case also to know this? It is not enough; but a man must learn
how one thing is a consequence of other things, and when one thing follows from one
thing, and when it follows from several collectively. Consider, then if it be not necessary
that this power should also be acquired by him who purposes to conduct himself skillfully
in reasoning, the power of demonstrating himself the several things which he has
proposed, and the power of understanding the demonstrations of others, including of not
being deceived by sophists, as if they were demonstrating. Therefore there has arisen
among us the practice and exercise of conclusive arguments and figures, and it has been
shown to be necessary.

But in fact in some cases we have properly granted the premisses or assumptions, and
there results from them something; and though it is not true, yet none the less it does
result. What then ought I to do? Ought I to admit the falsehood? And how is that
possible? Well, should I say that I did not properly grant that which we agreed upon?
"But you are not allowed to do even this." Shall I then say that the consequence does not
arise through what has been conceded? "But neither is it allowed." What then must be
done in this case? Consider if it is not this: as to have borrowed is not enough to make a
man still a debtor, but to this must be added the fact that he continues to owe the money
and that the debt is not paid, so it is not enough to compel you to admit the inference that
you have granted the premisses, but you must abide by what you have granted. Indeed, if
the premisses continue to the end such as they were when they were granted, it is
absolutely necessary for us to abide by what we have granted, and we must accept their
consequences: but if the premisses do not remain such as they were when they were
granted, it is absolutely necessary for us also to withdraw from what we granted, and
from accepting what does not follow from the words in which our concessions were
made. For the inference is now not our inference, nor does it result with our assent, since
we have withdrawn from the premisses which we granted. We ought then both to
examine such kind of premisses, and such change and variation of them, by which in the
course of questioning or answering, or in making the syllogistic conclusion, or in any
other such way, the premisses undergo variations, and give occasion to the foolish to be
confounded, if they do not see what conclusions are. For what reason ought we to
examine? In order that we may not in this matter be employed in an improper manner nor
in a confused way.

And the same in hypotheses and hypothetical arguments; for it is necessary sometimes to
demand the granting of some hypothesis as a kind of passage to the argument which
follows. Must we then allow every hypothesis that is proposed, or not allow every one?
And if not every one, which should we allow? And if a man has allowed an hypothesis,
must he in every case abide by allowing it? or must he sometimes withdraw from it, but
admit the consequences and not admit contradictions? Yes; but suppose that a man says,
"If you admit the hypothesis of a possibility, I will draw you to an impossibility." With
such a person shall a man of sense refuse to enter into a contest, and avoid discussion and
conversation with him? But what other man than the man of sense can use argumentation
and is skillful in questioning and answering, and incapable of being cheated and deceived
by false reasoning? And shall he enter into the contest, and yet not take care whether he
shall engage in argument not rashly and not carelessly? And if he does not take care, how
can he be such a man as we conceive him to be? But without some such exercise and
preparation, can he maintain a continuous and consistent argument? Let them show this;
and all these speculations become superfluous, and are absurd and inconsistent with our
notion of a good and serious man.
Why are we still indolent and negligent and sluggish, and why do we seek pretences for
not labouring and not being watchful in cultivating our reason? "If then I shall make a
mistake in these matters may I not have killed my father?" Slave, where was there a
father in this matter that you could kill him? What, then, have you done? The only fault
that was possible here is the fault which you have committed. This is the very remark
which I made to Rufus when he blamed me for not having discovered the one thing
omitted in a certain syllogism: "I suppose," I said, "that I have burnt the Capitol."
"Slave," he replied, "was the thing omitted here the Capitol?" Or are these the only
crimes, to burn the Capitol and to kill your father? But for a man to use the appearances
resented to him rashly and foolishly and carelessly, not to understand argument, nor
demonstration, nor sophism, nor, in a word, to see in questioning and answering what is
consistent with that which we have granted or is not consistent; is there no error in this?

Chapter 8

That the faculties are not safe to the uninstructed

In as many ways as we can change things which are equivalent to one another, in just so
many ways we can change the forms of arguments and enthymemes in argumentation.
This is an instance: "If you have borrowed and not repaid, you owe me the money: you
have not borrowed and you have not repaid; then you do not owe me the money." To do
this skillfully is suitable to no man more than to the philosopher; for if the enthymeme is
all imperfect syllogism. it is plain that he who has been exercised in the perfect syllogism
must be equally expert in the imperfect also.

"Why then do we not exercise ourselves and one another in this manner?" Because, I
reply, at present, though we are not exercised in these things and not distracted from the
study of morality, by me at least, still we make no progress in virtue. What then must we
expect if we should add this occupation? and particularly as this would not only be an
occupation which would withdraw us from more necessary things, but would also be a
cause of self conceit and arrogance, and no small cause. For great is the power of arguing
and the faculty of persuasion, and particularly if it should be much exercised, and also
receive additional ornament from language: and so universally, every faculty acquired by
the uninstructed and weak brings with it the danger of these persons being elated and
inflated by it. For by what means could one persuade a young man who excels in these
matters that he ought not to become an appendage to them, but to make them an
appendage to himself? Does he not trample on all such reasons, and strut before us elated
and inflated, not enduring that any man should reprove him and remind him of what he
has neglected and to what he has turned aside?

"What, then, was not Plato a philosopher?" I reply, "And was not Hippocrates a
physician? but you see how Hippocrates speaks." Does Hippocrates, then, speak thus in
respect of being a physician? Why do you mingle things which have been accidentally
united in the same men? And if Plato was handsome and strong, ought I also to set to
work and endeavor to become handsome or strong, as if this was necessary for
philosophy, because a certain philosopher was at the same time handsome and a
philosopher? Will you not choose to see and to distinguish in respect to what men
become philosophers, and what things belong to belong to them in other respects? And if
I were a philosopher, ought you also to be made lame? What then? Do I take away these
faculties which you possess? By no means; for neither do I take away the faculty of
seeing. But if you ask me what is the good of man, I cannot mention to you anything else
than that it is a certain disposition of the will with respect to appearances.

Chapter 9

How from the fact that we are akin to God a man may proceed to the consequences

If the things are true which are said by the philosophers about the kinship between God
and man, what else remains for men to do then what Socrates did? Never in reply to the
question, to what country you belong, say that you are an Athenian or a Corinthian, but
that you are a citizen of the world. For why do you say that you are an Athenian, and why
do you not say that you belong to the small nook only into which your poor body was
cast at birth? Is it not plain that you call yourself an Athenian or Corinthian from the
place which has a greater authority and comprises not only that small nook itself and all
your family, but even the whole country from which the stock of your progenitors is
derived down to you? He then who has observed with intelligence the administration of
the world, and has learned that the greatest and supreme and the most comprehensive
community is that which is composed of men and God, and that from God have
descended the seeds not only to my father and grandfather, but to all beings which are
generated on the earth and are produced, and particularly to rational beings- for these
only are by their nature formed to have communion with God, being by means of reason
conjoined with Him- why should not such a man call himself a citizen of the world, why
not a son of God, and why should he be afraid of anything which happens among men? Is
kinship with Caesar or with any other of the powerful in Rome sufficient to enable us to
live in safety, and above contempt and without any fear at all? and to have God for your
maker and father and guardian, shall not this release us from sorrows and fears?

But a man may say, "Whence shall I get bread to eat when I have nothing?"

And how do slaves, and runaways, on what do they rely when they leave their masters?
Do they rely on their lands or slaves, or their vessels of silver? They rely on nothing but
themselves, and food does not fail them. And shall it be necessary for one among us who
is a philosopher to travel into foreign parts, and trust to and rely on others, and not to take
care of himself, and shall he be inferior to irrational animals and more cowardly, each of
which, being self-sufficient, neither fails to get its proper food, nor to find a suitable way
of living, and one conformable to nature?

I indeed think that the old man ought to be sitting here, not to contrive how you may have
no mean thoughts nor mean and ignoble talk about yourselves, but to take care that there
be not among us any young men of such a mind that, when they have recognized their
kinship to God, and that we are fettered by these bonds, the body, I mean, and its
possessions, and whatever else on account of them is necessary to us for the economy and
commerce of life, they should intend to throw off these things as if they were burdens
painful and intolerable, and to depart to their kinsmen. But this is the labour that your
teacher and instructor ought to be employed upon, if he really were what he should be.
You should come to him and say, "Epictetus, we can no longer endure being bound to
this poor body, and feeding it and giving it drink, and rest, and cleaning it, and for the
sake of the body complying with the wishes of these and of those. Are not these things
indifferent and nothing to us, and is not death no evil? And are we not in a manner
kinsmen of God, and did we not come from Him? Allow us to depart to the place from
which we came; allow us to be released at last from these bonds by which we are bound
and weighed down. Here there are robbers and thieves and courts of justice, and those
who are named tyrants, and think that they have some power over us by means of the
body and its possessions. Permit us to show them that they have no power over any man."
And I on my part would say, "Friends, wait for God; when He shall give the signal and
release you from this service, then go to Him; but for the present endure to dwell in this
place where He has put you: short indeed is this time of your dwelling here, and easy to
bear for those who are so disposed: for what tyrant or what thief, or what courts of
justice, are formidable to those who have thus considered as things of no value the body
and the possessions of the body? Wait then, do not depart without a reason."

Something like this ought to be said by the teacher to ingenuous youths. But now what
happens? The teacher is a lifeless body, and you are lifeless bodies. When you have been
well filled to-day, you sit down and lament about the morrow, how you shall get
something to eat. Wretch, if you have it, you will have it; if you have it not, you will
depart from life. The door is open. Why do you grieve? where does there remain any
room for tears? and where is there occasion for flattery? why shall one man envy
another? why should a man admire the rich or the powerful, even if they be both very
strong and of violent temper? for what will they do to us? We shall not care for that
which they can do; and what we do care for, that they cannot do. How did Socrates
behave with respect to these matters? Why, in what other way than a man ought to do
who was convinced that he was a kinsman of the gods? "If you say to me now," said
Socrates to his judges, "'We will acquit you on the condition that you no longer discourse
in the way in which you have hitherto discoursed, nor trouble either our young or our old
men,' I shall answer, 'you make yourselves ridiculous by thinking that, if one of our
commanders has appointed me to a certain post, it is my duty to keep and maintain it, and
to resolve to die a thousand times rather than desert it; but if God has put us in any place
and way of life, we ought to desert it.'" Socrates speaks like a man who is really a
kinsman of the gods. But we think about ourselves as if we were only stomachs, and
intestines, and shameful parts; we fear, we desire; we flatter those who are able to help us
in these matters, and we fear them also.

A man asked me to write to Rome about him, a man who, as most people thought, had
been unfortunate, for formerly he was a man of rank and rich, but had been stripped of
all, and was living here. I wrote on his behalf in a submissive manner; but when he had
read the letter, he gave it back to me and said, "I wished for your help, not your pity: no
evil has happened to me."
Thus also Musonius Rufus, in order to try me, used to say: "This and this will befall you
from your master"; and I replied that these were things which happen in the ordinary
course of human affairs. "Why, then," said he, "should I ask him for anything when I can
obtain it from you?" For, in fact, what a man has from himself, it is superfluous and
foolish to receive from another? Shall I, then, who am able to receive from myself
greatness of soul and a generous spirit, receive from you land and money or a magisterial
office? I hope not: I will not be so ignorant about my own possessions. But when a man
is cowardly and mean, what else must be done for him than to write letters as you would
about a corpse. "Please to grant us the body of a certain person and a sextarius of poor
blood." For such a person is, in fact, a carcass and a sextarius of blood, and nothing more.
But if he were anything more, he would know that one man is not miserable through the
means of another.

Chapter 10

Against those who eagerly seek preferment at Rome

If we applied ourselves as busily to our own work as the old men at Rome do to those
matters about which they are employed, perhaps we also might accomplish something. I
am acquainted with a man older than myself who is now superintendent of corn at Rome,
and remember the time when he came here on his way back from exile, and what he said
as he related the events of his former life, and how he declared that with respect to the
future after his return he would look after nothing else than passing the rest of his life in
quiet and tranquillity. "For how little of life," he said, remains for me." I replied, "You
will not do it, but as soon as you smell Rome, you will forget all that you have said; and
if admission is allowed even into the imperial palace, you will gladly thrust yourself in
and thank God." "If you find me, Epictetus," he answered, "setting even one foot within
the palace, think what you please." Well, what then did he do? Before he entered the city
he was met by letters from Caesar, and as soon as he received them he forgot all, and ever
after has added one piece of business to another. I wish that I were now by his side to
remind him of what he said when he was passing this way and to tell him how much
better a seer I am than he is.

Well, then, do I say that man is an animal made for doing nothing? Certainly not. But
why are we not active? For example, as to myself, as soon as day comes, in a few words I
remind myself of what I must read over to my pupils; then forthwith I say to myself, "But
what is it to me how a certain person shall read? the first thing for me is to sleep." And
indeed what resemblance is there between what other persons do and what we do? If you
observe what they do, you will understand. And what else do they do all day long than
make up accounts, inquire among themselves, give and take advice about some small
quantity of grain, a bit of land, and such kind of profits? Is it then the same thing to
receive a petition and to read in it: "I entreat you to permit me to export a small quantity
of corn"; and one to this effect: "I entreat you to learn from Chrysippus what is the
administration of the world, and what place in it the rational animal holds; consider also
who you are, and what is the nature of your good and bad." Are these things like the
other, do they require equal care, and is it equally base to neglect these and those? Well,
then, are we the only persons who are lazy and love sleep? No; but much rather you
young men are. For we old men, when we see young men amusing themselves, are eager
to play with them; and if I saw you active and zealous, much more should I be eager
myself to join you in your serious pursuits.

Chapter 11

Of natural affection

When he was visited by one of the magistrates, Epictetus inquired of him about several
particulars, and asked if he had children and a wife. The man replied that he had; and
Epictetus inquired further, how he felt under the circumstances. "Miserable," the man
said. Then Epictetus asked, "In what respect," for men do not marry and beget children in
order to be wretched, but rather to be happy. "But I," the man replied, "am so wretched
about my children that lately, when my little daughter was sick and was supposed to be in
danger, I could not endure to stay with her, but I left home till a person sent me news that
she had recovered." Well then, said Epictetus, do you think that you acted right? "I acted
naturally," the man replied. But convince me of this that you acted naturally, and I will
convince you that everything which takes place according to nature takes place rightly.
"This is the case," said the man, "with all or at least most fathers." I do not deny that: but
the matter about which we are inquiring is whether such behavior is right; for in respect
to this matter we must say that tumours also come for the good of the body, because they
do come; and generally we must say that to do wrong is natural, because nearly all or at
least most of us do wrong. Do you show me then how your behavior is natural. "I
cannot," he said; "but do you rather show me how it is not according to nature and is not
rightly done.

Well, said Epictetus, if we were inquiring about white and black, what criterion should
we employ for distinguishing between them? "The sight," he said. And if about hot and
cold, and hard and soft, what criterion? "The touch." Well then, since we are inquiring
about things which are according to nature, and those which are done rightly or not
rightly, what kind of criterion do you think that we should employ? "I do not know," he
said. And yet not to know the criterion of colors and smells, and also of tastes, is perhaps
no great harm; but if a man do not know the criterion of good and bad, and of things
according to nature and contrary to nature, does this seem to you a small harm? "The
greatest harm." Come tell me, do all things which seem to some persons to be good and
becoming rightly appear such; and at present as to Jews and Syrians and Egyptians and
Romans, is it possible that the opinions of all of them in respect to food are right? "How
is it possible?" he said. Well, I suppose it is absolutely necessary that, if the opinions of
the Egyptians are right, the opinions of the rest must be wrong: if the opinions of the Jews
are right, those of the rest cannot be right. "Certainly." But where there is ignorance, there
also there is want of learning and training in things which are necessary. He assented to
this. You then, said Epictetus, since you know this, for the future will employ yourself
seriously about nothing else, and will apply your mind to nothing else than to learn the
criterion of things which are according to nature, and by using it also to determine each
several thing. But in the present matter I have so much as this to aid you toward what you
wish. Does affection to those of your family appear to you to be according to nature and
to be good? "Certainly." Well, is such affection natural and good, and is a thing
consistent with reason not good? "By no means." Is then that which is consistent with
reason in contradiction with affection? "I think not." You are right, for if it is otherwise, it
is necessary that one of the contradictions being according to nature, the other must be
contrary to nature. Is it not so? "It is," he said. Whatever, then, we shall discover to be at
the same time affectionate and also consistent with reason, this we confidently declare to
be right and good. "Agreed." Well then to leave your sick child and to go away is not
reasonable, and I suppose that you will not say that it is; but it remains for us to inquire if
it is consistent with affection. "Yes, let us consider." Did you, then, since you had an
affectionate disposition to your child, do right when you ran off and left her; and has the
mother no affection for the child? "Certainly, she has." Ought, then, the mother also to
have left her, or ought she not? "She ought not." And the nurse, does she love her? "She
does." Ought, then, she also to have left her? "By no means." And the pedagogue, does he
not love her? "He does love her." Ought, then, he also to have deserted her? and so
should the child have been left alone and without help on account of the great affection of
you, the parents, and of those about her, or should she have died in the hands of those
who neither loved her nor cared for her? "Certainly not." Now this is unfair and
unreasonable, not to allow those who have equal affection with yourself to do what you
think to be proper for yourself to do because you have affection. It is absurd. Come then,
if you were sick, would you wish your relations to be so affectionate, and all the rest,
children and wife, as to leave you alone and deserted? "By no means." And would you
wish to be so loved by your own that through their excessive affection you would always
be left alone in sickness? or for this reason would you rather pray, if it were possible, to
be loved by your enemies and deserted by them? But if this is so, it results that your
behavior was not at all an affectionate act.

Well then, was it nothing which moved you and induced you to desert your child? and
how is that possible? But it might be something of the kind which moved a man at Rome
to wrap up his head while a horse was running which he favoured; and when contrary to
expectation the horse won, he required sponges to recover from his fainting fit. What then
is the thing which moved? The exact discussion of this does not belong to the present
occasion perhaps; but it is enough to be convinced of this, if what the philosophers say is
true, that we must not look for it anywhere without, but in all cases it is one and the same
thing which is the cause of our doing or not doing something, of saying or not saying
something, of being elated or depressed, of avoiding anything or pursuing: the very thing
which is now the cause to me and to you, to you of coming to me and sitting and hearing,
and to me of saying what I do say. And what is this? Is it any other than our will to do so?
"No other." But if we had willed otherwise, what else should we have been doing than
that which we willed to do? This, then, was the cause of Achilles' lamentation, not the
death of Patroclus; for another man does not behave thus on the death of his companion;
but it was because he chose to do so. And to you this was the very cause of your then
running away, that you chose to do so; and on the other side, if you should stay with her,
the reason will be the same. And now you are going to Rome because you choose; and if
you should change your mind, you will not go thither. And in a word, neither death nor
exile nor pain nor anything of the kind is the cause of our doing anything or not doing;
but our own opinions and our wills.

Do I convince you of this or not? "You do convince me." Such, then, as the causes are in
each case, such also are the effects. When, then, we are doing anything not rightly, from
this day we shall impute it to nothing else than to the will from which we have done it:
and it is that which we shall endeavour to take away and to extirpate more than the
tumours and abscesses out of the body. And in like manner we shall give the same
account of the cause of the things which we do right; and we shall no longer allege as
causes of any evil to us, either slave or neighbour, or wife or children, being persuaded
that, if we do not think things to he what we do think them to be, we do not the acts
which follow from such opinions; and as to thinking or not thinking, that is in our power
and not in externals. "It is so," he said. From this day then we shall inquire into and
examine nothing else, what its quality is, or its state, neither land nor slaves nor horses
nor dogs, nothing else than opinions. "I hope so." You see, then, that you must become a
Scholasticus, an animal whom all ridicule, if you really intend to make an examination of
your own opinions: and that this is not the work of one hour or day, you know yourself.

Chapter 12

Of contentment

With respect to gods, there are some who say that a divine being does not exist: others
say that it exists, but is inactive and careless, and takes no forethought about anything; a
third class say that such a being exists and exercises forethought, but only about great
things and heavenly things, and about nothing on the earth; a fourth class say that a
divine being exercises forethought both about things on the earth and heavenly things, but
in a general way only, and not about things severally. There is a fifth class to whom
Ulysses and Socrates belong, who say: "I move not without thy knowledge."

Before all other things, then, it is necessary to inquire about each of these opinions,
whether it is affirmed truly or not truly. For if there are no gods, how is it our proper end
to follow them? And if they exist, but take no care of anything, in this case also how will
it be right to follow them? But if indeed they do exist and look after things, still if there is
nothing communicated from them to men, nor in fact to myself, how even so is it right?
The wise and good man, then, after considering all these things, submits his own mind to
him who administers the whole, as good citizens do to the law of the state. He who is
receiving instruction ought to come to the instructed with this intention: How shall I
follow the gods in all things, how shall I be contented with the divine administration, and
how can I become free?" For he is free to whom everything happens according, to his
will, and whom no man can hinder. "What then, is freedom madness?" Certainly not: for
madness and freedom do not consist. "But," you say, "I would have everything result just
as I like, and in whatever way I like." You are mad, you are beside yourself. Do you not
know that freedom is a noble and valuable thing? But for me inconsiderately to wish for
things to happen as I inconsiderately like, this appears to be not only not noble, but even
most base. For how do we proceed in the matter of writing? Do I wish to write the name
of Dion as I choose? No, but I am taught to choose to write it as it ought to be written.
And how with respect to music? In the same manner. And what universally in every art
or science? Just the same. If it were not so, it would be of no value to know anything, if
knowledge were adapted to every man's whim. Is it, then, in this alone, in this which is
the greatest and the chief thing, I mean freedom, that I am permitted to will
inconsiderately? By no means; but to be instructed is this, to learn to wish that everything
may happen as it does. And how do things happen? As the disposer has disposed them?
And he has appointed summer and winter, and abundance and scarcity, and virtue and
vice, and all such opposites for the harmony of the whole; and to each of us he has given
a body, and parts of the body, and possessions, and companions.

Remembering, then, this disposition of things we ought to go to be instructed, not that we

may change the constitution of things- for we have not the power to do it, nor is it better
that we should have the power-but in order that, as the things around us are what they are
and by nature exist, we may maintain our minds in harmony with them things which
happen. For can we escape from men? and how is it possible? And if we associate with
them, can we chance them? Who gives us the power? What then remains, or what method
is discovered of holding commerce with them? Is there such a method by which they
shall do what seems fit to them, and we not the less shall be in a mood which is
conformable to nature? But you are unwilling to endure and are discontented: and if you
are alone, you call it solitude; and of you are with men, you call them knaves and
robbers; and you find fault with your own parents and children, and brothers and
neighbours. But you ought when you are alone to call this condition by the name of
tranquillity and freedom, and to think yourself like to the gods; and when you are with
many, you ought not to call it crowd, nor trouble, nor uneasiness, but festival and
assembly, and so accept all contentedly.

What, then, is the punishment of those who do not accept? It is to be what they are. Is any
person dissatisfied with being alone, let him be alone. Is a man dissatisfied with his
parents? let him be a bad son, and lament. Is he dissatisfied with his children? let him be
a bad father. "Cast him into prison." What prison? Where he is already, for he is there
against his will; and where a man is against his will, there he is in prison. So Socrates was
not in prison, for he was there willingly. "Must my leg then be lamed?" Wretch, do you
then on account of one poor leg find fault with the world? Will you not willingly
surrender it for the whole? Will you not withdraw from it? Will you not gladly part with
it to him who gave it? And will you be vexed and discontented with the things established
by Zeus, which he with the Moirae who were present and spinning the thread of your
generation, defined and put in order? Know you not how small a part you are compared
with the whole. I mean with respect to the body, for as to intelligence you are not inferior
to the gods nor less; for the magnitude of intelligence is not measured by length nor yet
by height, but by thoughts.

Will you not, then, choose to place your good in that in which you are equal to the gods?
"Wretch that I am to have such a father and mother." What, then, was it permitted to you
to come forth, and to select, and to say: "Let such a man at this moment unite with such a
woman that I may be prod
uced?" It was not permitted, but it was a necessity for your parents to exist first, and then
for you to be begotten. Of what kind of parents? Of such as they were. Well then, since
they are such as they are, is there no remedy given to you? Now if you did not know for
what purpose you possess the faculty of vision, you would be unfortunate and wretched if
you closed your eyes when colors were brought before them; but in that you possess
greatness of soul and nobility of spirit for every event that may happen, and you know
not that you possess them, are you not more unfortunate and wretched? Things are
brought close to you which are proportionate to the power which you possess, but you
turn away this power most particularly at the very time when you ought to maintain it
open and discerning. Do you not rather thank the gods that they have allowed you to be
above these things which they have not placed in your power; and have made you
accountable only for those which are in your power? As to your parents, the gods have
left you free from responsibility; and so with respect to your brothers, and your body, and
possessions, and death and life. For what, then, have they made you responsible? For that
which alone is in your power, the proper use of appearances. Why then do you draw on
yourself the things for which you are not responsible? It is, indeed, a giving of trouble to
yourself.

Chapter 13

How everything may he done acceptably to the gods

When some one asked, how may a man eat acceptably to the gods, he answered: If he can
eat justly and contentedly, and with equanimity, and temperately and orderly, will it not
be also acceptably to the gods? But when you have asked for warm water and the slave
has not heard, or if he did hear has brought only tepid water, or he is not even found to be
in the house, then not to be vexed or to burst with passion, is not this acceptable to the
gods? "How then shall a man endure such persons as this slave?" Slave yourself, will you
not bear with your own brother, who has Zeus for his progenitor, and is like a son from
the same seeds and of the same descent from above? But if you have been put in any such
higher place, will you immediately make yourself a tyrant? Will you not remember who
you are, and whom you rule? that they are kinsmen, that they are brethren by nature, that
they are the offspring of Zeus? "But I have purchased them, and they have not purchased
me." Do you see in what direction you are looking, that it is toward the earth, toward the
pit, that it is toward these wretched laws of dead men? but toward the laws of the gods
you are not looking.

Chapter 14

That the deity oversees all things

When a person asked him how a man could be convinced that all his actions are under the
inspection of God, he answered, Do you not think that all things are united in one? "I do,"
the person replied. Well, do you not think that earthly things have a natural agreement
and union with heavenly things "I do." And how else so regularly as if by God's
command, when He bids the plants to flower, do they flower? when He bids them to send
forth shoots, do they shoot? when He bids them to produce fruit, how else do they
produce fruit? when He bids the fruit to ripen, does it ripen? when again He bids them to
cast down the fruits, how else do they cast them down? and when to shed the leaves, do
they shed the leaves? and when He bids them to fold themselves up and to remain quiet
and rest, how else do they remain quiet and rest? And how else at the growth and the
wane of the moon, and at the approach and recession of the sun, are so great an alteration
and change to the contrary seen in earthly things? But are plants and our bodies so bound
up and united with the whole, and are not our souls much more? and our souls so bound
up and in contact with God as parts of Him and portions of Him; and does not God
perceive every motion of these parts as being His own motion connate with Himself?
Now are you able to think of the divine administration, and about all things divine, and at
the same time also about human affairs, and to be moved by ten thousand things at the
same time in your senses and in your understanding, and to assent to some, and to dissent
from others, and again as to some things to suspend your judgment; and do you retain in
your soul so many impressions from so many and various things, and being moved by
them, do you fall upon notions similar to those first impressed, and do you retain
numerous arts and the memories of ten thousand things; and is not God able to oversee all
things, and to be present with all, and to receive from all a certain communication? And
is the sun able to illuminate so large a part of the All, and to leave so little not
illuminated, that part only which is occupied by the earth's shadow; and He who made the
sun itself and makes it go round, being a small part of Himself compared with the whole,
cannot He perceive all things?

"But I cannot," the man may reply, "comprehend all these things at once." But who tells
you that you have equal power with Zeus? Nevertheless he has placed by every man a
guardian, every man's Demon, to whom he has committed the care of the man, a guardian
who never sleeps, is never deceived. For to what better and more careful guardian could
He have entrusted each of us? When, then, you have shut the doors and made darkness
within, remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not; but God is within, and
your Demon is within, and what need have they of light to see what you are doing? To
this God you ought to swear an oath just as the soldiers do to Caesar. But they who are
hired for pay swear to regard the safety of Caesar before all things; and you who have
received so many and such great favours, will you not swear, or when you have sworn,
will you not abide by your oath? And what shall you swear? Never to be disobedient,
never to make any charges, never to find fault with anything that he has given, and never
unwillingly to do or to suffer anything, that is necessary. Is this oath like the soldier's
oath? The soldiers swear not to prefer any man to Caesar: in this oath men swear to
honour themselves before all.

Chapter 15

What philosophy promises

When a man was consulting him how he should persuade his brother to cease being angry
with him, Epictetus replied: Philosophy does not propose to secure for a man any external
thing. If it did philosophy would be allowing something which is not within its province.
For as the carpenter's material is wood, and that of the statuary is copper, so the matter of
the art of living is each man's life. "What then is my brother's?" That again belongs to his
own art; but with respect to yours, it is one of the external things, like a piece of land, like
health, like reputation. But Philosophy promises none of these. "In every circumstance I
will maintain," she says, "the governing part conformable to nature." Whose governing
part? "His in whom I am," she says.

"How then shall my brother cease to be angry with me?" Bring him to me and I will tell
him. But I have nothing to say to you about his anger.

When the man, who was consulting him, said, "I seek to know this- how, even if my
brother is not reconciled to me, shall I maintain myself in a state conformable to nature?"
Nothing great, said Epictetus, is produced suddenly, since not even the grape or the fig is.
If you say to me now that you want a fig, I will answer to you that it requires time: let it
flower first, then put forth fruit, and then ripen. Is, then, the fruit of a fig-tree not
perfected suddenly and in one hour, and would you possess the fruit of a man's mind in
so short a time and so easily? Do not expect it, even if I tell you.

Chapter 16

Of providence

Do not wonder if for other animals than man all things are provided for the body, not
only food and drink, but beds also, and they have no need of shoes nor bed materials, nor
clothing; but we require all these additional things. For, animals not being made for
themselves, but for service, it was not fit for them to he made so as to need other things.
For consider what it would be for us to take care not only of ourselves, but also about
cattle and asses, how they should be clothed, and how shod, and how they should eat and
drink. Now as soldiers are ready for their commander, shod, clothed and armed: but it
would be a hard thing, for the chiliarch to go round and shoe or clothe his thousand men;
so also nature has formed the animals which are made for service, all ready, prepared,
and requiring no further care. So one little boy with only a stick drives the cattle.

But now we, instead of being thankful that we need not take the same care of animals as
of ourselves, complain of God on our own account; and yet, in the name of Zeus and the
gods, any one thing of those which exist would be enough to make a man perceive the
providence of God, at least a man who is modest and grateful. And speak not to me now
of the great thins, but only of this, that milk is produced from grass, and cheese from
milk, and wool from skins. Who made these things or devised them? "No one," you say.
Oh, amazing shamelessness and stupidity!

Well, let us omit the works of nature and contemplate her smaller acts. Is there anything
less useful than

Chapter 1
That confidence is not inconsistent with caution

The opinion of the philosophers, perhaps, seems to some to be a paradox; but still let us
examine as well as we can, if it is true that it is possible to do everything both with
caution and with confidence. For caution seems to be in a manner contrary to confidence,
and contraries are in no way consistent. That which seems to many to be a paradox in the
matter under consideration in my opinion is of this kind: if we asserted that we ought to
employ caution and in the same things, men might justly accuse us of bringing together
things which cannot be united. But now where is the difficulty in what is said? for if these
things are true, which have been often said and often proved, that the nature of good is in
the use of appearances, and the nature of evil likewise, and that things independent of our
will do not admit either the nature of evil nor of good, what paradox do the philosophers
assert if they say that where things are not dependent on the will, there you should
employ confidence, but where they are dependent on the will, there you should employ
caution? For if the bad consists in a bad exercise of the will, caution ought only to be
used where things are dependent on the will. But if things independent of the will and not
in our power are nothing to us, with respect to these we must employ confidence; and
thus we shall both be cautious and confident, and indeed confident because of our
caution. For by employing caution toward things which are really bad, it will result that
we shall have confidence with respect to things which are not so.

We are then in the condition of deer; when they flee from the huntsmen's feathers in
fright, whither do they turn and in what do they seek refuge as safe? They turn to the nets,
and thus they perish by confounding things which are objects of fear with things that they
ought not to fear. Thus we also act: in what cases do we fear? In things which are
independent of the will. In what cases, on the contrary, do we behave with confidence, as
if there were no danger? In things dependent on the will. To be deceived then, or to act
rashly, or shamelessly or with base desire to seek something, does not concern us at all, if
we only hit the mark in things which are independent of our will. But where there is
death, or exile or pain or infamy, there we attempt or examine to run away, there we are
struck with terror. Therefore, as we may expect it to happen with those who err in the
greatest matters, we convert natural confidence into audacity, desperation, rashness,
shamelessness; and we convert natural caution and modesty into cowardice and
meanness, which are full of fear and confusion. For if a man should transfer caution to
those things in which the will may be exercised and the acts of the will, he will
immediately, by willing to be cautious, have also the power of avoiding what he chooses:
but if he transfer it to the things which are not in his power and will, and attempt to avoid
the things which are in the power of others, he will of necessity fear, he will be unstable,
he will be disturbed. For death or pain is not formidable, but the fear of pain or death. For
this reason we commend the poet who said

Not death is evil, but a shameful death. Confidence then ought to be employed against
death, and caution against the fear of death. But now we do the contrary, and employ
against death the attempt to escape; and to our opinion about it we employ carelessness,
rashness and indifference. These things Socrates properly used to call "tragic masks"; for
as to children masks appear terrible and fearful from inexperience, we also are affected in
like manner by events for no other reason than children are by masks. For what is a child?
Ignorance. What is a child? Want of knowledge. For when a child knows these things, he
is in no way inferior to us. What is death? A "tragic mask." Turn it and examine it. See, it
does not bite. The poor body must be separated from the spirit either now or later, as it
was separated from it before. Why, then, are you troubled, if it be separated now? for if it
is not separated now, it will be separated afterward. Why? That the period of the universe
may be completed, for it has need of the present, and of the future, and of the past. What
is pain? A mask. Turn it and examine it. The poor flesh is moved roughly, then, on the
contrary, smoothly. If this does not satisfy you, the door is open: if it does, bear. For the
door ought to be open for all occasions; and so we have no trouble.

What then is the fruit of these opinions? It is that which ought to he the most noble and
the most becoming to those who are really educated, release from perturbation, release
from fear, freedom. For in these matters we must not believe the many, who say that free
persons only ought to be educated, but we should rather believe the philosophers, who
say that the educated only are free. "How is this?" In this manner. Is freedom anything
else than the power of living as we choose? "Nothing else." Tell me then, ye men, do you
wish to live in error? "We do not." No one then who lives in error is free. Do you wish to
live in fear? Do you wish to live in sorrow? Do you wish to live in perturbation? "By no
means." No one, then, who is in a state of fear or sorrow or perturbation is free; but
whoever is delivered from sorrows and fears and perturbations, he is at the same time
also delivered from servitude. How then can we continue to believe you, most dear
legislators, when you say, "We only allow free persons to be educated?" For philosophers
say we allow none to be free except the educated; that is, God does not allow it. "When
then a man has turned round before the praetor his own slave, has he done nothing?" He
has done something. "What?" He has turned round his own slave before the praetor. "Has
he done nothing, more?" Yes: he is also bound to pay for him the tax called the twentieth.
"Well then, is not the man who has gone through this ceremony become free?" No more
than he is become free from perturbations. Have you who are able to turn round others no
master? is not money your master, or a girl or a boy, or some tyrant, or some friend of the
tyrant? why do you tremble then when you are going off to any trial of this kind? It is for
this reason that I often say: Study and hold in readiness these principles by which you
may determine what those things are with reference to which you ought to have
confidence, and those things with reference to which you ought to be cautious:
courageous in that which does not depend on your will; cautious in that which does
depend on it.

"Well have I not read to you, and do you not know what I was doing?" In what? "In my
little dissertations." Show me how you are with respect to desire and aversion; and show
if you do not fail in getting what you wish, me and if you do not fall into the things which
you would avoid: but as to these long and laboured sentences, you will take them and blot
them out.

"What then did not Socrates write?" And who wrote so much? But how? As he could not
always have at hand one to argue against his principles or to be argued against in turn, he
used to argue with and examine himself, and he was always treating at least some one
subject in a practical way. These are the things which a philosopher writes. But little
dissertations and that method, which I speak of, he leaves to others, to the stupid, or to
those happy men who being free from perturbations have leisure, or to such as are too
foolish to reckon consequences.

And will you now, when the opportunity invites, go and display those things which you
possess, and recite them, and make an idle show, and say, "See how I make dialogues?"
Do not so, my man: but rather say: "See how I am not disappointed of that which I desire.
See how I do not fall into that which I would avoid. Set death before me, and you will
see. Set before me pain, prison, disgrace and condemnation." This is the proper display of
a young man who is come out of the schools. But leave the rest to others, and let no one
ever hear you say a word about these things; and if any man commends you for them, do
not allow it; but think that you are nobody and know nothing. Only show that you know
this, how never to be disappointed in your desire and how never to fall into that which
you would avoid. Let others labour at forensic causes, problems and syllogisms: do you
labour at thinking about death, chains, the rack, exile; and do all this with confidence and
reliance on him who has called you to these sufferings, who has judged you worthy of the
place in which, being stationed, you will show what things the rational governing power
can do when it takes its stand against the forces which are not within the power of our
will. And thus this paradox will no longer appear either impossible or a paradox, that a
man ought to be at the same time cautious and courageous: courageous toward the things
which do not depend on the will, and cautious in things which are within the power of the
will.

Chapter 2

Of Tranquillity

Consider, you who are going into court, what you wish to maintain and what you wish to
succeed in. For if you wish to maintain a will conformable to nature, you have every
security, every facility, you have no troubles. For if you wish to maintain what is in your
own power and is naturally free, and if you are content with these, what else do you care
for? For who is the master of such things? Who can take them away? If you choose to be
modest and faithful, who shall not allow you to be so? If you choose not to be restrained
or compelled, who shall compel you to desire what you think that you ought not to
desire? who shall compel you to avoid what you do not think fit to avoid? But what do
you say? The judge will determine against you something that appears formidable; but
that you should also suffer in trying to avoid it, how can he do that? When then the
pursuit of objects and the avoiding of them are in your power, what else do you care for?
Let this be your preface, this your narrative, this your confirmation, this your victory, this
your peroration, this your applause.

Therefore Socrates said to one who was reminding him to prepare for his trial, "Do you
not think then that I have been preparing for it all my life?" By what kind of preparation?
"I have maintained that which was in my own power." How then? "I have never done
anything unjust either in my private or in my public life."
But if you wish to maintain externals also, your poor body, your little property and your
little estimation, I advise you to make from this moment all possible preparation, and then
consider both the nature of your judge and your adversary. If it is necessary to embrace
his knees, embrace his knees; if to weep, weep; if to groan, groan. For when you have
subjected to externals what is your own, then be a slave and do not resist, and do not
sometimes choose to be a slave, and sometimes not choose, but with all your mind be one
or the other, either free or a slave, either instructed or uninstructed, either a well-bred
cock or a mean one, either endure to be beaten until you die or yield at once; and let it not
happen to you to receive many stripes and then to yield. But if these things are base,
determine immediately: "Where is the nature of evil and good? It is where truth is: where
truth is and where nature is, there is caution: where truth is, there is courage where nature
is."

For what do you think? do you think that, if Socrates had wished to preserve externals, he
would have come forward and said: "Anytus and Meletus can certainly kill me, but to
harm me they are not able?" Was he so foolish as not to see that this way leads not to the
preservation of life and fortune, but to another end? What is the reason then that he takes
no account of his adversaries, and even irritates them? Just in the same way my friend
Heraclitus, who had a little suit in Rhodes about a bit of land, and had proved to the
judges that his case was just, said, when he had come to the peroration of his speech, "I
will neither entreat you nor do I care what wi judgment you will give, and it is you rather
than I who are on your trial." And thus he ended the business. What need was there of
this? Only do not entreat; but do not also say, "I. do not entreat"; unless there is a fit
occasion to irritate purposely the judges, as was the case with Socrates. And you, if you
are preparing such a peroration, why do you wait, why do you obey the order to submit to
trial? For if you wish to be crucified, wait and the cross will come: but if you choose to
submit and to plead your cause as well as you can, you must do what is consistent with
this object, provided you maintain what is your own.

For this reason also it is ridiculous to say, "Suggest something to me." What should I
suggest to you? "Well, form my mind so as to accommodate itself to any event." Why
that is just the same as if a man who is ignorant of letters should say, "Tell me what to
write when any name is proposed to me." For if I should tell him to write Dion, and then
another should come and propose to him not the name of Dion but that of Theon, what
will be done? what will he write? But if you behave practiced writing, you are also
prepared to write anything that is required. If you are not, what. can I now suggest? For if
circumstances require something else, what will you say or what will you do? Remember,
then, this general precept and you will need no suggestion. But if you gape after
externals, you must of necessity ramble up and down in obedience to the will of your
master. And who is the master? He who has the power over the things which you seek to
gain or try to avoid.

Chapter 3

To those who recommend persons to philosophers

Diogenes said well to one who asked from him letters of recommendation, "That you are
a man he said, "he will know as soon as he sees you; and he will know whether you are
good or bad, if he is by experience skillful to distinguish the good and the bad; but if he is
without experience, he will never know, if I write to him ten thousand times." For it is
just the same as if a drachma asked to be recommended to a person to be tested. If he is
skillful in testing silver, he will know what you are, for you will recommend yourself. We
ought then in life also to have some skill as in the case of silver coin that a man may be
able to say, like the judge of silver, "Bring me any drachma and I will test it." But in the
case of syllogisms I would say, "Bring any man that you please, and I will distinguish for
you the man who knows how to resolve syllogisms and the man who does not." Why?
Because I know how to resolve syllogisms. I have the power, which a man must have
who is able to discover those who have the power of resolving syllogisms. But in life
how do I act? At one time I call a thing good, and at another time bad. What is the
reason? The contrary to that which is in the case of syllogisms, ignorance and
inexperience.

Chapter 4

Against a person who had once been detected in adultery

As Epictetus was saying that man is formed for fidelity, and that he who subverts fidelity
subverts the peculiar characteristic of men, there entered one of those who are considered
to be men of letters, who had once been detected in adultery in the city. Then Epictetus
continued: But if we lay aside this fidelity for which we are formed and make designs
against our neighbor's wife, what are we are we doing? What else but destroying and
overthrowing? Whom? The man of fidelity, the man of modesty, the man of sanctity. Is
this all? And are we not overthrowing neighbourhood, and friendship, and the
community; and in what place are we putting ourselves? How shall I consider you, man?
As a neighbour, as a friend? What kind of one? As a citizen? Wherein shall I trust you?
So if you were an utensil so worthless that a man could not use you, you would be
pitched out on the dung heaps, and no man would pick you up. But if, being a man, you
are unable to fill any place which befits a man, what shall we do with you? For suppose
that you cannot hold the place of a friend, can you hold the place of a slave? And who
will trust you? Are you not then content that you also should be pitched somewhere on a
dung heap, as a useless utensil, and a bit of dung? Then will you say, "No man, cares for
me, a man of letters"? They do not, because you are bad and useless. It is just as if the
wasps complained because no man cares for them, but all fly from them, and if a man
can, he strikes them and knocks them down. You have such a sting that you throw into
trouble and pain any man that you wound with it. What would you have us do with you?
You have no place where you can be put.

"What then, are not women common by nature?" So I say also; for a little pig is common
to all the invited guests, but when the portions have been distributed, go, if you think it
right, and snatch up the portion of him who reclines next to you, or slyly steal it, or place
your hand down by it and lay hold of it, and if you cannot tear away a bit of the meat,
grease your fingers and lick them. A fine companion over cups, and Socratic guest
indeed! "Well, is not the theatre common to the citizens?" When then they have taken
their seats, come, if you think proper, and eject one of them. In this way women also are
common by nature. When, then, the legislator, like the master of a feast, has distributed
them, will you not also look for your own portion and not filch and handle what belongs
to another. "But I am a man of letters and understand Archedemus." Understand
Archedemus then, and be an adulterer, and faithless, and instead of a man, be a wolf or an
ape: for what is the difference?

Chapter 5

How magnanimity is consistent with care

Things themselves are indifferent; but the use of them is not indifferent. How then shall a
man preserve firmness and tranquillity, and at the same time be careful and neither rash
nor negligent? If he imitates those who play at dice. The counters are indifferent; the dice
are indifferent. How do I know what the cast will be? But to use carefully and
dexterously the cast of the dice, this is my business. Thus in life also the chief business is
this: distinguish and separate things, and say, "Externals are not in my power: will is in
my power. Where shall I seek the good and the bad? Within, in the things which are my
own." But in what does not belong to you call nothing either good or bad, or profit or
damage or anything of the kind.

"What then? Should we use such things carelessly?" In no way: for this on the other hand
is bad for the faculty of the will, and consequently against nature; but we should act
carefully because the use is not indifferent and we should also act with firmness and
freedom from perturbations because the material is indifferent. For where the material is
not indifferent, there no man can hinder me nor compel me. Where I can be hindered and
compelled the obtaining of those things is not in my power, nor is it good or bad; but the
use is either bad or good, and the use is in my power. But it is difficult to mingle and to
bring together these two things, the carefulness of him who is affected by the matter and
the firmness of him who has no regard for it; but it is not impossible; and if it is,
happiness is impossible. But we should act as we do in the case of a voyage. What can I
do? I can choose the master of the ship, the sailors, the day, the opportunity. Then comes
a storm. What more have I to care for? for my part is done. The business belongs to
another- the master. But the ship is sinking- what then have I to do? I do the only things
that I can, not to be drowned full of fear, nor screaming, nor blaming God, but knowing
that what has been produced must also perish: for I am not an immortal being, but a man,
a part of the whole, as an hour is a part of the day: I must be present like the hour, and
past like the hour. What difference, then, does it make to me how I pass away, whether
by being suffocated or by a fever, for I must pass through some such means?

This is just what you will see those doing who play at ball skillfully. No one cares about
the ball being good or bad, but about throwing and catching it. In this therefore is the
skill, this the art, the quickness, the judgement, so that if I spread out my lap I may not be
able to catch it, and another, if I throw, may catch the ball. But if with perturbation and
fear we receive or throw the ball, what kind of play is it then, and wherein shall a man be
steady, and how shall a man see the order in the game? But one will say, "Throw"; or,
"Do not throw"; and another will say, "You have thrown once." This is quarreling, not
play.

Socrates, then, knew how to play at ball. How?" By using pleasantry in the court where
he was tried. "Tell me," he says, "Anytus, how do you say that I do not believe in God.
The Demons, who are they, think you? Are they not sons of Gods, or compounded of
gods and men?" When Anytus admitted this, Socrates said, "Who then, think you, can
believe that there are mules, but not asses"; and this he said as if he were playing at ball.
And what was the ball in that case? Life, chains, banishment, a draught of poison,
separation from wife and leaving children orphans. These were the things with which he
was playing; but still he did play and threw the ball skillfully. So we should do: we must
employ all the care of the players, but show the same indifference about the ball. For we
ought by all means to apply our art to some external material, not as valuing the material,
but, whatever it may be, showing our art in it. Thus too the weaver does not make wool,
but exercises his art upon such as he receives. Another gives you food and property and is
able to take them away and your poor body also. When then you have received the
material, work on it. If then you come out without having suffered anything, all who meet
you will congratulate you on your escape; but he who knows how to look at such things,
if he shall see that you have behaved properly in the matter, will commend you and be
pleased with you; and if he shall find that you owe your escape to any want of proper
behavior, he will do the contrary. For where rejoicing is reasonable, there also is
congratulation reasonable.

How then is it said that some external things are according to nature and others contrary
to nature? It is said as it might be said if we were separated from union: for to the foot I
shall say that it is according to nature for it to be clean; but if you take it as a foot and as a
thing not detached, it will befit it both to step into the mud and tread on thorns, and
sometimes to be cut off for the benefit of the whole body; otherwise it is no longer a foot.
We should think in some way about ourselves also. What are you? A man. If you
consider yourself as detached from other men, it is according to nature to live to old age,
to be rich, to be healthy. But if you consider yourself as a man and a part of a certain
whole, it is for the sake of that whole that at one time you should be sick, at another time
take a voyage and run into danger, and at another time be in want, and, in some cases, die
prematurely. Why then are you troubled? Do you not know, that as a foot is no longer a
foot if it is detached from the body, so you are no longer a man if you are separated from
other men. For what is a man? A part of a state, of that first which consists of Gods and
of men; then of that which is called next to it, which is a small image of the universal
state. "What then must I be brought to trial; must another have a fever, another sail on the
sea, another die, and another be condemned?" Yes, for it is impossible in such a body, in
such a universe of things, among so many living together, that such things should not
happen, some to one and others to others. It is your duty then, since you are come here, to
say what you ought, to arrange these things as it is fit. Then some one says, "I shall
charge you with doing me wrong." Much good may it do you: I have done my part; but
whether you also have done yours, you must look to that; for there is some danger of this
too, that it may escape your notice.

Chapter 6

Of indifference

The hypothetical proposition is indifferent: the judgment about it is not indifferent, but it
is either knowledge or opinion or error. Thus life is indifferent: the use is not indifferent.
When any man then tells you that these things also are indifferent, do not become
negligent; and when a man invites you to be careful, do not become abject and struck
with admiration of material things. And it is good for you to know your own preparation
and power, that in those matters where you have not been prepared, you may keep quiet,
and not be vexed, if others have the advantage over you. For you, too, in syllogisms will
claim to have the advantage over them; and if others should be vexed at this, you will
console them by saying, "I have learned them, and you have not." Thus also where there
is need of any practice, seek not that which is required from the need, but yield in that
matter to those who have had practice, and be yourself content with firmness of mind.

Go and salute a certain person. "How?" Not meanly. "But I have been shut out, for I have
not learned to make my way through the window; and when I have found the door shut, I
must either come back or enter through the window." But still speak to him. "In what
way?" Not meanly. But suppose that you have not got what you wanted. Was this your
business, and not his? Why then do you claim that which belongs to another? Always
remember what is your own, and what belongs to another; and you will not be disturbed.
Chrysippus therefore said well, "So long as future things are uncertain, I always cling to
those which are more adapted to the conservation of that which is according to nature; for
God himself has given me the faculty of such choice." But if I knew that it was fated for
me to be sick, I would even move toward it; for the foot also, if it had intelligence, would
move to go into the mud. For why are ears of corn produced? Is it not that they may
become dry? And do they not become dry that they may be reaped? for they are not
separated from communion with other things. If then they had perception, ought they to
wish never to be reaped? But this is a curse upon ears of corn, never to be reaped. So we
must know that in the case of men too it is a curse not to die, just the same as not to be
ripened and not to be reaped. But since we must be reaped, and we also know that we are
reaped, we are vexed at it; for we neither know what we are nor have we studied what
belongs to man, as those who have studied horses know what belongs to horses. But
Chrysantas, when he was going to strike the enemy, checked himself when he heard the
trumpet sounding a retreat: so it seemed better to him to obey the general's command than
to follow his own inclination. But not one of us chooses, even when necessity summons,
readily to obey it, but weeping and groaning we suffer what we do suffer, and we call
them "circumstances." What kind of circumstances, man? If you give the name of
circumstances to the things which are around you, all things are circumstances; but if you
call hardships by this name, what hardship is there in the dying of that which has been
produced? But that which destroys is either a sword, or a wheel, or the sea, or a tile, or a
tyrant. Why do you care about the way of going down to Hades? All ways are equal. But
if you will listen to the truth, the way which the tyrant sends you is shorter. A tyrant
never killed a man in six months: but a fever is often a year about it. All these things are
only sound and the noise of empty names.

"I am in danger of my life from Caesar." And am not I in danger who dwell in Nicopolis,
where there are so many earthquakes: and when you are crossing the Hadriatic, what
hazard do you run? Is it not the hazard of your life? "But I am in danger also as to
opinion." Do you mean your own? how? For who can compel you to have any opinion
which you do not choose? But is it as to another man's opinion? and what kind of danger
is yours, if others have false opinions? "But I am in danger of being banished." What is it
to be banished? To be somewhere else than at Rome? "Yes: what then if I should be sent
to Gyara?" If that suits you, you will go there; but if it does not, you can go to another
place instead of Gyara, whither he also will go, who sends you to Gyara, whether he
choose or not. Why then do you go up to Rome as if it were something great? It is not
worth all this preparation, that an ingenuous youth should say, "It was not worth while to
have heard so much and to have written so much and to have sat so long by the side of an
old man who is not worth much." Only remember that division by which your own and
not your own are distinguished: never claim anything which belongs to others. A tribunal
and a prison are each a place, one high and the other low; but the will can be maintained
equal, if you choose to maintain it equal in each. And we shall then be imitators of
Socrates, when we are able to write paeans in prison. But in our present disposition,
consider if we could endure in prison another person saying to us. "Would you like me to
read Paeans to you?" "Why do you trouble me? do you not know the evils which hold
me? Can I in such circumstances?" What circumstances? "I am going to die." And will
other men be immortal?

Chapter 7

How we ought to use divination

Through an unreasonable regard to divination many of us omit many duties. For what
more can the diviner see than death or danger or disease, generally things of that kind? If
then I must expose myself to danger for a friend, and if it is my duty even to die for him,
what need have I then for divination? Have I not within me a diviner who has told me the
nature of good and of evil, and has explained to me the signs of both? What need have I
then to consult the viscera of victims or the flight of birds, and why do I submit when he
says, "It is for your interest"? For does he know what is for my interest, does he know
what is good; and as he has learned the signs of the viscera, has he also learned the signs
of good and evil? For if he knows the signs of these, he knows the signs both of the
beautiful and of the ugly, and of the just and of the unjust. Do you tell me, man, what is
the thing which is signified for me: is it life or death, poverty or wealth? But whether
these things are for my interest or whether they are not, I do not intend to ask you. Why
don't you give your opinion on matters of grammar, and why do you give it here about
things on which we are all in error and disputing with one another? The woman,
therefore, who intended to send by a vessel a month's provisions to Gratilla in her
banishment, made a good answer to him who said that Domitian would seize what she
sent. "I would rather," she replied, "that Domitian should seize all than that I should not
send it."

What then leads us to frequent use of divination? Cowardice, the dread of what will
happen. This is the reason why we flatter the diviners. "Pray, master, shall I succeed to
the property of my father?" "Let us see: let us sacrifice on the occasion." "Yes, master, as
fortune chooses." When he has said, "You shall succeed to the inheritance," we thank him
as if we received the inheritance from him. The consequence is that they play upon us.

What then should we do? We ought to come without desire or aversion, as the wayfarer
asks of the man whom he meets which of two roads leads (to his journey's end), without
any desire for that which leads to the right rather than to the left, for he has no wish to go
by any road except the road which leads (to his end). In the same way ought we to come
to God also as a guide; as we use our eyes, not asking them to show us rather such things
as we wish, but receiving the appearances of things such as the eyes present them to us.
But now we trembling take the augur by the hand, and, while we invoke God, we entreat
the augur, and say, "Master have mercy on me; suffer me to come safe out of this
difficulty." Wretch would you have, then, anything other than what is best? Is there then
anything better than what pleases God? Why do you, so far as in your power, corrupt
your judge and lead astray your adviser?

Chapter 8

What is the nature of the good

God is beneficial. But the Good also is beneficial. It is consistent then that where the
nature of God is, there also the nature of the good should be. What then is the nature of
God? Flesh? Certainly not. An estate in land? By no means. Fame? No. Is it intelligence,
knowledge, right reason? Yes. Herein then simply seek the nature of the good; for I
suppose that you do not seek it in a plant. No. Do you seek it in an irrational animal? No.
If then you seek it in a rational animal, why do you still seek it anywhere except in the
superiority of rational over irrational animals? Now plants have not even the power of
using appearances, and for this reason you do not apply the term good to them. The good
then requires the use of appearances. Does it require this use only? For if you say that it
requires this use only, say that the good, and that happiness and unhappiness are in
irrational animals also. But you do not say this, and you do right; for if they possess even
in the highest degree the use of appearances, yet they have not the faculty of
understanding the use of appearances; and there is good reason for this, for they exist for
the purpose of serving others, and they exercise no superiority. For the ass, I suppose,
does not exist for any superiority over others. No; but because we had need of a back
which is able to bear something; and in truth we had need also of his being able to walk,
and for this reason he received also the faculty of making use of appearances, for
otherwise he would not have been able to walk. And here then the matter stopped. For if
he had also received the faculty of comprehending the use of appearances, it is plain that
consistently with reason he would not then have been subjected to us, nor would he have
done us these services, but he would have been equal to us and like to us.
Will you not then seek the nature of good in the rational animal? for if it is not there, you
not choose to say that it exists in any other thing. "What then? are not plants and animals
also the works of God?" They are; but they are not superior things, nor yet parts of the
Gods. But you are a superior thing; you are a portion separated from the deity; you have
in yourself a certain portion of him. Why then are you ignorant of your own noble
descent? Why do you not know whence you came? will you not remember when you are
eating, who you are who eat and whom you feed? When you are in conjunction with a
woman, will you not remember who you are who do this thing? When you are in social
intercourse, when you are exercising yourself, when you are engaged in discussion, know
you not that you are nourishing a god, that you are exercising a god? Wretch, you are
carrying about a god with you, and you know it not. Do you think that I mean some God
of silver or of gold, and external? You carry him within yourself, and you perceive not
that you are polluting him by impure thoughts and dirty deeds. And if an image of God
were present, you would not dare to do any of the things which you are doing: but when
God himself is present within and sees all and hears all, you are not ashamed of thinking
such things and doing such things, ignorant as you are of your own nature and subject to
the anger of God. Then why do we fear when we are sending a young man from the
school into active life, lest he should do anything improperly, eat improperly, have
improper intercourse with women; and lest the rags in which he is wrapped should debase
him, lest fine garments should make him proud? This youth does not know his own God:
he knows not with whom he sets out. But can we endure when he says, "I wish I had you
with me." Have you not God with you? and do you seek for any other, when you have
him? or will God tell you anything else than this? If you were a statue of Phidias, either
Athena or Zeus you would think broth of yourself and of the artist, and if you had any
understanding you would try to do nothing unworthy of him who made you or of
yourself, and try not to appear in an unbecoming dress to those who look on you. But
now because Zeus has made you, for this reason do you care not how you shall appear?
And yet is the artist like the artist in the other? or the work in the one case like the other?
And what work of an artist, for instance, has in itself the faculties, which the artist shows
in making it? Is it not marble or bronze, or gold or ivory? and the Athena of Phidias when
she has once extended the hand and received in it the figure of Victory stands in that
attitude forever. But the works of God have power of motion, they breathe, they have the
faculty of using the appearances of things, and the power of examining them. Being the
work of such an artist, do you dishonor him? And what shall I say, not only that he made
you, but also intrusted you to yourself and made you a deposit to yourself? Will you not
think of this too, but do you also dishonor your guardianship? But if God had intrusted an
orphan to you, would you thus neglect him? He has delivered yourself to your care, and
says, "I had no one fitter to intrust him to than yourself: keep him for me such as he is by
nature, modest, faithful, erect, unterrified, free from passion and perturbation." And then
you do not keep him such.

But some will say, "Whence has this fellow got the arrogance which he displays and
these supercilious looks?" I have not yet so much gravity as befits a philosopher; for I do
not yet feel confidence in what I have learned and what I have assented to: I still fear my
own weakness. Let me get confidence and the, you shall see a countenance such as I
ought to have and an attitude such as I ought to have: then I will show to you the statue,
when it is perfected, when it is polished. What do you expect? a supercilious
countenance? Does the Zeus at Olympia lift up his brow? No, his look is fixed as
becomes him who is ready to say

Irrevocable is my word and shall not fail. Such will I show myself to you, faithful,
modest, noble, free from perturbation. "What, and immortal too, exempt from old age,
and from sickness?" No, but dying as becomes a god, sickening as becomes a god. This
power I possess; this I can do. But the rest I do not possess, nor can I do. I will show the
nerves of a philosopher. "What nerves are these?" A desire never disappointed, an
aversion which never falls on that which it would avoid, a proper pursuit, a diligent
purpose, an assent which is not rash. These you shall see.

Chapter 9

That when we cannot fulfill that which the character of a man promises, we assume the
character of a philosopher

It is no common thing to do this only, to fulfill the promise of a man's nature. For what is
a man? The answer is: "A rational and mortal being." Then, by the rational faculty, from
whom are we separated? From wild beasts. And from what others? From sheep and like
animals. Take care then to do nothing like a wild beast; but if you do, you have lost the
character of a man; you have not fulfilled your promise. See that you do nothing like a
sheep; but if you do, in this case the man is lost. What then do we do as sheep? When we
act gluttonously, when we act lewdly, when we act rashly, filthily, inconsiderately, to
what have we declined? To sheep. What have we lost? The rational faculty. When we act
contentiously and harmfully and passionately, and violently, to what have we declined?
To wild beasts. Consequently some of us are great wild beasts, and others little beasts, of
a bad disposition and small, whence we may say, "Let me be eaten by a lion." But in all
these ways the promise of a man acting as a man is destroyed. For when is a conjunctive
proposition maintained? When it fulfills what its nature promises; so that the preservation
of a complex proposition is when it is a conjunction of truths. When is a disjunctive
maintained? When it fulfills what it promises. When are flutes, a lyre, a horse, a dog,
preserved? What is the wonder then if man also in like manner is preserved, and in like
manner is lost? Each man is improved and preserved by corresponding acts, the carpenter
by acts of carpentry, the grammarian by acts of grammar. But if a man accustoms himself
to write ungrammatically, of necessity his art will be corrupted and destroyed. Thus
modest actions preserve the modest man, and immodest actions destroy him: and actions
of fidelity preserve the faithful man, and the contrary actions destroy him. And on the
other hand contrary actions strengthen contrary characters: shamelessness strengthens the
shameless man, faithlessness the faithless man, abusive words the abusive man, anger the
man of an angry temper, and unequal receiving and giving make the avaricious man more
avaricious.

For this reason philosophers admonish us not to be satisfied with learning only, but also
to add study, and then practice. For we have long been accustomed to do contrary things,
and we put in practice opinions which are contrary to true opinions. If then we shall not
also put in practice right opinions, we shall be nothing more than the expositors of the
opinions of others. For now who among us is not able to discuss according to the rules of
art about good and evil things? "That of things some are good, and some are bad, and
some are indifferent: the good then are virtues, and the things which participate in
virtues; and the are the contrary; and the indifferent are wealth, health, reputation." Then,
if in the midst of our talk there should happen some greater noise than usual, or some of
those who are present should laugh at us, we are disturbed. Philosopher, where are the
things which you were talking about? Whence did you produce and utter them? From the
lips, and thence only. Why then do you corrupt the aids provided by others? Why do you
treat the weightiest matters as if you were playing a game of dice? For it is one thing to
lay up bread and wine as in a storehouse, and another thing to eat. That which has been
eaten, is digested, distributed, and is become sinews, flesh, bones, blood, healthy colour,
healthy breath. Whatever is stored up, when you choose you can readily take and show it;
but you have no other advantage from it except so far as to appear to possess it. For what
is the difference between explaining these doctrines and those of men who have different
opinions? Sit down now and explain according to the rules of art the opinions of
Epicurus, and perhaps you will explain his opinions in a more useful manner than
Epicurus himself. Why then do you call yourself a Stoic? Why do you deceive the many?
Why do you deceive the many? Why do you act the part of a Jew, when you are a Greek?
Do you not see how each is called a Jew, or a Syrian or an Egyptian? and when we see a
man inclining to two sides, we are accustomed to say, "This man is not a Jew, but he acts
as one." But when he has assumed the affects of one who has been imbued with Jewish
doctrine and has adopted that sect, then he is in fact and he is named a Jew. Thus we too
being falsely imbued, are in name Jews, but in fact we are something else. Our affects are
inconsistent with our words; we are far from practicing what we say, and that of which
we are proud, as if we knew it. Thus being, unable to fulfill even what the character of a
man promises, we even add to it the profession of a philosopher, which is as heavy a
burden, as if a man who is unable to bear ten pounds should attempt to raise the stone
which Ajax lifted.

Chapter 10

How we may discover the duties of life from names

Consider who you are. In the first place, you are a man; and this is one who has nothing
superior to the faculty of the will, but all other things subjected to it; and the faculty itself
he possesses unenslaved and free from subjection. Consider then from what things you
have been separated by reason. You have been separated from wild beasts: you have been
separated from domestic animals. Further, you are a citizen of the world, and a part of it,
not one of the subservient, but one of the principal parts, for you are capable of
comprehending the divine administration and of considering the connection of things.
What then does the character of a citizen promise? To hold nothing as profitable to
himself; to deliberate about nothing as if he were detached from the community, but to
act as the hand or foot would do, if they had reason and understood the constitution of
nature, for they would never put themselves in motion nor desire anything, otherwise
than with reference to the whole. Therefore the philosophers say well, that if the good
man had foreknowledge of what would happen, he would cooperate toward his own
sickness and death and mutilation, since he knows that these things are assigned to him
according to the universal arrangement, and that the whole is superior to the part and the
state to the citizen. But now, because we do not know the future, it is our duty to stick to
the things which are in their nature more suitable for our choice, for we were made
among other things for this.

After this, remember that you are a son. What does this character promise? To consider
that everything which is the son's belongs to the father, to obey him in all things, never to
blame him to another, nor to say or do anything which does him injury, to yield to him in
all things and give way, cooperating with him as far as you can. After this know that you
are a brother also, and that to this character it is due to make concessions; to be easily
persuaded, to speak good of your brother, never to claim in opposition to him any of the
things which are independent of the will, but readily to give them up, that you may have
the larger share in what is dependent on the will. For see what a thing it is, in place of a
lettuce, if it should so happen, or a seat, to gain for yourself goodness of disposition. How
great is the advantage.

Next to this, if you are senator of any state, remember that you are a senator: if a youth,
that you are a youth: if an old man, that you are an old man; for each of such names, if it
comes to be examined, marks out the proper duties. But if you go and blame your
brother, I say to you, "You have forgotten who you are and what is your name." In the
next place, if you were a smith and made a wrong use of the hammer, you would have
forgotten the smith; and if you have forgotten the brother and instead of a brother have
become an enemy, would you appear not to have changed one thing for another in that
case? And if instead of a man, who is a tame animal and social, you are become a
mischievous wild beast, treacherous, and biting, have you lost nothing? But, you must
lose a bit of money that you may suffer damage? And does the loss of nothing else do a
man damage? If you had lost the art of grammar or music, would you think the loss of it a
damage? and if you shall lose modesty, moderation and gentleness, do you think the loss
nothing? And yet the things first mentioned are lost by some cause external and
independent of the will, and the second by our own fault; and as to the first neither to
have them nor to lose them is shameful; but as to the second, not to have them and to lose
them is shameful and matter of reproach and a misfortune. What does the pathic lose? He
loses the man. What does he lose who makes the pathic what he is? Many other things;
and he also loses the man no less than the other. What does he lose who commits
adultery? He loses the modest, the temperate, the decent, the citizen, the neighbour. What
does he lose who is angry? Something else. What does the coward lose? Something else.
No man is bad without suffering some loss and damage. If then you look for the damage
in the loss of money only, all these men receive no harm or damage; it may be, they have
even profit and gain, when they acquire a bit of money by any of these deeds. But
consider that if you refer everything to a small coin, not even he who loses his nose is in
your opinion damaged. "Yes," you say, "for he is mutilated in his body." Well; but does
he who has lost his smell only lose nothing? Is there, then, no energy of the soul which is
an advantage to him who possesses it, and a damage to him who has lost it? "Tell me
what sort you mean." Have we not a natural modesty? "We have." Does he who loses this
sustain no damage? is he deprived of nothing, does he part with nothing of the things
which belong to him? Have we not naturally fidelity? natural affection, a natural
disposition to help others, a natural disposition to forbearance? The man then who allows
himself to be damaged in these matters, can he be free from harm and uninjured? "What
then? shall I not hurt him, who has hurt me?" In the first place consider what hurt is, and
remember what you have heard from the philosophers. For if the good consists in the
will, and the evil also in the will, see if what you say is not this: "What then, since that
man has hurt himself by doing an unjust act to me, shall I not hurt myself by doing some
unjust act to him?" Why do we not imagine to something of this kind? But where there is
any detriment to the body or to our possession, there is harm there; and where the same
thing happens to the faculty of the will, there is no harm; for he who has been deceived or
he who has done an unjust act neither suffers in the head nor in the eye nor in the hip, nor
does he lose his estate; and we wish for nothing else than these things. But whether we
shall have the will modest and faithful or shameless and faithless, we care not the least,
except only in the school so far as a few words are concerned. Therefore our proficiency
is limited to these few words; but beyond them it does not exist even in the slightest
degree.

Chapter 11

What the beginning of philosophy is

The beginning of philosophy to him at least who enters on it in the right way and by the
door, is a consciousness of his own weakness and inability about necessary things. For
we come into the world with no natural notion of a right-angled triangle, or of a diesis, or
of a half tone; but we learn each of these things by a certain transmission according to art;
and for this reason those who do not know them, do not think that they know them. But
as to good and evil, and beautiful and ugly, and becoming and unbecoming, and
happiness and misfortune, and proper and improper, and what we ought to do and what
we ought not to do, whoever came into the world without having an innate idea of them?
Wherefore we all use these names, and we endeavor to fit the preconceptions to the
several cases thus: "He has done well, he has not done well; he has done as he ought, not
as he ought; he has been unfortunate, he has been fortunate; he is unjust, he is just": who
does not use these names? who among us defers the use of them till he has learned them,
as he defers the use of the words about lines or sounds? And the cause of this is that we
come into the world already taught as it were by nature some things on this matter, and
proceeding from these we have added to them self-conceit. "For why," a man says, "do I
not know the beautiful and the ugly? Have I not the notion of it?" You have. "Do I not
adapt it to particulars?" You do. "Do I not then adapt it properly?" In that lies the whole
question; and conceit is added here. For, beginning from these things which are admitted,
men proceed to that which is matter of dispute by means of unsuitable adaptation; for if
they possessed this power of adaptation in addition to those things, what would hinder
them from being perfect? But now since you think that you properly adapt the
preconceptions to the particulars, tell me whence you derive this. Because I think so. But
it does not seem so to another, and he thinks that he also makes a proper adaptation; or
does he not think so? He does think so. Is it possible then that both of you can properly
apply the preconceptions to things about which you have contrary opinions? It is not
possible. Can you then show us anything better toward adapting the preconceptions
beyond your thinking that you do? Does the madman do any other things than the things
as in which seem to him right? Is then this criterion for him also? It is not sufficient.
Come then to something which is superior to seeming. What is this?

Observe, this is the beginning of philosophy, a perception of the disagreement of men

with one another, and an inquiry into the cause of the disagreement, and a condemnation
and distrust of that which only "seems," and a certain investigation of that which "seems"
whether it "seems" rightly, and a discovery of some rule, as we have discovered a balance
in the determination of weights, and a carpenter's rule in the case of straight and crooked
things. This is the beginning of philosophy. "Must we say that all thins are right which
seem so to all?" And how is it possible that contradictions can be right? "Not all then, but
all which seem to us to be right." How more to you than those which seem right to the
Syrians? why more than what seem right to the Egyptians? why more than what seems
right to me or to any other man? "Not at all more." What then "seems" to every man is
not sufficient for determining what "is"; for neither in the case of weights or measures are
we satisfied with the bare appearance, but in each case we have discovered a certain rule.
In this matter then is there no rule certain to what "seems?" And how is it possible that
the most necessary things among men should have no sign, and be incapable of being
discovered? There is then some rule. And why then do we not seek the rule and discover
it, and afterward use it without varying from it, not even stretching out the finger without
it? For this, I think, is that which when it is discovered cures of their madness those who
use mere "seeming" as a measure, and misuse it; so that for the future proceeding from
certain things known and made clear we may use in the case of particular things the
preconceptions which are distinctly fixed.

What is the matter presented to us about which we are inquiring? "Pleasure." Subject it to
the rule, throw it into the balance. Ought the good to be such a thing that it is fit that we
have confidence in it? "Yes." And in which we ought to confide? "It ought to be." Is it fit
to trust to anything which is insecure? "No." Is then pleasure anything secure? "No."
Take it then and throw it out of the scale, and drive it far away from the place of good
things. But if you are not sharp-sighted, and one balance is not enough for you, bring
another. Is it fit to be elated over what is good? "Yes." Is it proper then to be elated over
present pleasure? See that you do not say that it is proper; but if you do, I shall then not
think you are worthy even of the balance. Thus things are tested and weighed when the
rules are ready. And to philosophize is this, to examine and confirm the rules; and then to
use them when they are known is the act of a wise and good man.

Chapter 12

Of disputation or discussion

What things a man must learn in order to be able to apply the art of disputation, has been
accurately shown by our philosophers; but with respect to the proper use of the things, we
are entirely without practice. Only give to any of us, whom you please, an illiterate man
to discuss with,, and he cannot discover how to deal with the man. But when he has
moved the man a little, if he answers beside the purpose, he does not know how to treat
him, but he then either abuses or ridicules him, and says, "He is an illiterate man; it is not
possible to do anything with him." Now a guide, when he has found a man out of the road
leads him into the right way: he does not ridicule or abuse him and then leave him. Do
you also show this illiterate man the truth, and you will see that he follows. But so long as
you do not show him the truth, do not ridicule him, but rather feel your own incapacity.

How then did Socrates act? He used to compel his adversary in disputation to bear
testimony to him, and he wanted no other witness. Therefore he could say, "I care not for
other witnesses, but I am always satisfied with the evidence of my adversary, and I do not
ask the opinion of others, but only the opinion of him who is disputing with me." For he
used to make the conclusions drawn from natural notions so plain that every man saw the
contradiction and withdrew from it: "Does the envious man rejoice?" "By no means, but
he is rather pained." Well, "Do you think that envy is pain over evils? and what envy is
there of evils?" Therefore he made his adversary say that envy is pain over good things.
"Well then, would any man envy those who are nothing to him?" "By no means." Thus
having completed the notion and distinctly fixed it he would go away without saying to
his adversary, "Define to me envy"; and if the adversary had defined envy, he did not say,
"You have defined it badly, for the terms of the definition do not correspond to the thing
defined." These are technical terms, and for this reason disagreeable and hardly
intelligible to illiterate men, which terms we cannot lay aside. But that the illiterate man
himself, who follows the appearances presented to him, should be able to concede
anything or reject it, we can never by the use of these terms move him to do.
Accordingly, being conscious of our own inability, we do not attempt the thing; at least
such of us as have any caution do not. But the greater part and the rash, when they enter
into such disputations, confuse themselves and confuse others; and finally abusing their
adversaries and abused by them, they walk away.

Now this was the first and chief peculiarity of Socrates, never to be irritated in argument,
never to utter anything abusive, anything insulting, but to bear with abusive persons and
to put an end to the quarrel. If you would know what great power he had in this way, read
the Symposium of Xenophon, and you will see how many quarrels he put an end to.
Hence with good reason in the poets also this power is most highly praised,

Quickly with the skill he settles great disputes.

Well then; the matter is not now very safe, and particularly at Rome; for he who attempts
to do it, must not do it in a corner, you may be sure, but must go to a man of consular
rank, if it so happen, or to a rich man, and ask him, "Can you tell me, Sir, to whose care
you have entrusted your horses?" "I can tell you." Here you entrusted them to a person
indifferently and to one who has no experience of horses? "By no means." Well then; can
you tell me to whom you entrust your gold or silver things or your vestments? "I don't
entrust even these to anyone indifferently." Well; your own body, have you already
considered about entrusting the care of it to any person? "Certainly." To a man of
experience, I suppose, and one acquainted with the aliptic, or with the healing art?
"Without a doubt." Are these the best things that you have, or do you also possess
something else which is better than all these? "What kind of thing do you mean?" That I
mean which makes use of these things, and tests each of these things and deliberates. "Is
it the soul that you mean?" You think right, for it is the soul that I mean. "In truth I do
think the soul is a much better thing than all the others which I possess." Can you then
show us in what way you have taken care of the soul? for it is not likely that you, who are
so wise a man and have a reputation in the city, inconsiderately and carelessly allow the
most valuable thing that you possess to be neglected and to perish? "Certainly not." But
have you taken care of the soul yourself; and have you learned from another to do this, or
have you discovered the means yourself? Here comes the danger that in the first place he
may say, "What is this to you, my good man, who are you?" Next, if you persist in
troubling him, there is a danger that he may raise his hands and give you blows. I was
once myself also an admirer of this mode of instruction until I fell into these dangers.

Chapter 13

On anxiety

When I see a man anxious, I say, "What does this man want? If he did not want
something which is not in his power, how could he be anxious?" For this reason a lute
player when he is singing by himself has no anxiety, but when he enters the theatre, he is
anxious even if he has a good voice and plays well on the lute; for he not only wishes to
sing well, but also to obtain applause: but this is not in his power. Accordingly, where he
has skill, there he has confidence. Bring any single person who knows nothing of music,
and the musician does not care for him. But in the matter where a man knows nothing and
has not been practiced, there he is anxious. What matter is this? He knows not what a
crowd is or what the praise of a crowd is. However he has learned to strike the lowest
chord and the highest; but what the praise of the many is, and what power it has in life he
neither knows nor has he thought about it. Hence he must of necessity tremble and grow
pale. I cannot then say that a man is not a lute player when I see him afraid, but I can say
something else, and not one thing, but many. And first of all I call him a stranger and say,
"This man does not know in what part of the world he is, but though he has been here so
long, he is ignorant of the laws of the State and the customs, and what is permitted and
what is not; and he has never employed any lawyer to tell him and to explain the laws."
But a man does not write a will, if he does not does not know how it ought to be written,
or he employs a person who does know; nor does he rashly seal a bond or write a
security. But he uses his desire without a lawyer's advice, and aversion, and pursuit, and
attempt and purpose. "How do you mean without a lawyer?" He does not know that he
wills what is not allowed, and does not will that which is of necessity; and he does not
know either what is his own or what is or what is another man's; but if he did know, he
could never be impeded, he would never be hindered, he would not be anxious. "How
so?" Is any man then afraid about things which are not evil? "No." Is he afraid about
things which are evils, but still so far within his power that they may not happen?
"Certainly he is not." If, then, the things which are independent of the will are neither
good nor bad, and all things which do depend on the will are within our power, and no
man can either take them from us or give them to us, if we do not choose, where is room
left for anxiety? But we are anxious about our poor body, our little property, about the
will of Caesar; but not anxious about things internal. Are we anxious about not forming a
false opinion? No, for this is in my power. About not exerting our movements contrary to
nature? No, not even about this. When then you see a man pale, as the physician says,
judging from the complexion, this man's spleen is disordered, that man's liver; so also
say, this man's desire and aversion are disordered, he is not in the right way, he is in a
fever. For nothing else changes the color, or causes trembling or chattering of the teeth,
or causes a man to

Sink in his knees and shift from foot to foot.

For this reason when Zeno was going to meet Antigonus, he was not anxious, for
Antigonus had no power over any of the things which Zeno admired; and Zeno did not
care for those things over which Antigonus had power. But Antigonus was anxious when
he was going to meet Zeno, for he wished to please Zeno; but this was a thing external.
But Zeno did not want to please Antigonus; for no man who is skilled in any art wishes to
please one who has no such skill.

Should I try to please you? Why? I suppose, you know the measure by which one man is
estimated by another. Have you taken pains to learn what is a good man and what is a bad
man, and how a man becomes one or the other? Why, then, are you not good yourself?
"How," he replies, "am I not good?" Because no good man laments or roans or weeps, no
good man is pale and trembles, or says, "How will he receive me, how will he listen to
me?" Slave, just as it pleases him. Why do you care about what belongs to others? Is it
now his fault if he receives badly what proceeds from you? "Certainly." And is it possible
that a fault should be one man's, and the evil in another? "No." Why then are you anxious
about that which belongs to others? "Your question is reasonable; but I am anxious how I
shall speak to him." Cannot you then speak to him as you choose? "But I fear that I may
be disconcerted?" If you are going to write the name of Dion, are you afraid that you
would be disconcerted? "By no means." Why? is it not because you have practiced writi
ng the name? "Certainly." Well, if you were going to read the name, would you not feel
the same? and why? Because every art has a certain strength and confidence in the things
which belong to it. Have you then not practiced speaking? and what else did you learn in
the school? Syllogisms and sophistical propositions? For what purpose? was it not for the
purpose of discoursing skillfully? and is not discoursing skillfully the same as discoursing
seasonably and cautiously and with intelligence, and also without making mistakes and
without hindrance, and besides all this with confidence? "Yes." When, then, you are
mounted on a horse and go into a plain, are you anxious at being matched against a man
who is on foot, and anxious in a matter in which you are practiced, and he is not? "Yes,
but that person has power to kill me." Speak the truth then, unhappy man, and do not
brag, nor claim to be a philosopher, nor refuse to acknowledge your masters, but so long
as you present this handle in your body, follow every man who is stronger than yourself.
Socrates used to practice speaking, he who talked as he did to the tyrants, to the dicasts,
he who talked in his prison. Diogenes had practiced speaking, he who spoke as he did to
Alexander, to the pirates, to the person who bought him. These men were confident in the
things which they practiced. But do you walk off to your own affairs and never leave
them: go and sit in a corner, and weave syllogisms, and propose them to another. There is
not in you the man who can rule a state.

Chapter 14

To Naso

When a certain Roman entered with his son and listened to one reading, Epictetus said,
"This is the method of instruction"; and he stopped. When the Roman asked him to go on,
Epictetus said: Every art, when it is taught, causes labour to him who is unacquainted
with it and is unskilled in it, and indeed the things which proceed from the arts
immediately show their use in the purpose for which they were made; and most of them
contain something attractive and pleasing. For indeed to be present and to observe how a
shoemaker learns is not a pleasant thing; but the shoe is useful and also not disagreeable
to look at. And the discipline of a smith when he is learning is very disagreeable to one
who chances to be present and is a stranger to the art: but the work shows the use of the
art. But you will see this much more in music; for if you are present while a person is
learning, the discipline will appear most disagreeable; and yet the results of music are
pleasing and delightful to those who know nothing of music. And here we conceive the
work of a philosopher to be something of this kind: he must adapt his wish to what is
going on, so that neither any of the things which are taking place shall take place contrary
to our wish, nor any of the things which do not take place shall not take place when we
wish that they should. From this the result is to those who have so arranged the work of
philosophy, not to fall in the desire, nor to fall in with that which they would avoid;
without uneasiness, without fear, without perturbation to pass through life themselves,
together with their associates maintaining the relations both natural and acquired, 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 to learn that there is a God and that he provides for all things; also that it is not
possible to conceal from him our acts, or even our intentions and thoughts. 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
consistently with this fact.

"With what then must we begin?" If you will enter on the discussion, I will tell you that
you must first 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 disagreeable thing for a man to be
confuted who is now old and, it may be, has now served his three campaigns. I too know
this: for now you are come to me as if you were in want of nothing: and what could you
even imagine to be wanting to you? You are rich, you have children, and a wife, perhaps
and many slaves: Caesar knows you, in Rome you have many friends, you render their
dues to all, you know how to requite him who does you a favour, and to repay in the
same kind him who does a wrong. What do you lack? If, then, I shall show you that you
lack the things most necessary 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 yourself, how is it possible that you should endure
me and bear the proof and stay here? It is not possible; but you immediately go off in bad
humour. And yet what harm have I done you? unless the mirror also injures the ugly man
because it shows him to himself such as he is; unless the physician also is supposed to
insult the sick man, when he says to him, "Man, do you think that you ail nothing? But
you have a fever: go without food to-day; drink water." And no one says, "What an
insult!" But if you say to a man, "Your desires are inflamed, your aversions are low, your
intentions are inconsistent, your pursuits are not comfortable 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
possessions and lands and slaves and magisterial offices, these are nothing except fodder.
But there are a few who attend the assembly, men who love to look on and consider what
is the world, who governs it. Has it no governor? And how is it possible that a city or a
family cannot continue to exist, not even the shortest time without an administrator and
guardian, and that so great and beautiful a system should be administered with such order
and yet without a purpose and by chance? There is then an administrator. What kind of
administrator and how does he govern? And who are we, who were produced by him, and
for what purpose? Have we some 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 understanding, they would ridicule those who admired anything else than fodder.

Chapter 15

To or against those who obstinately persist in what they have determined

When some persons have heard these words, that a man ought to be constant, and that the
will is naturally free and not subject to compulsion, but that all other things are subject to
hindrance, to slavery, and are in the power of others, they suppose that they ought
without deviation to abide by 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 something of the same kind is
felt by those who listen to these discourses in a wrong manner; which was the case with
one of my companions who for no reason resolved to starve himself to death. I heard of it
when it was the third day of his abstinence from food and I went to inquire what had
happened. "I have resolved," he said. But still tell me what it was which induced you to
resolve; for if you have resolved rightly, we shall sit with you and assist you to depart;
but if you have made an unreasonable resolution, change your mind. "We ought to keep
to

Book Three

Chapter 1

Of finery in dress

A certain young man a rhetorician came to see Epictetus, with his hair dressed more
carefully than was usual and his attire in an ornamental style; whereupon Epictetus said:
Tell me you do not think that some dogs are 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 peculiar? And you will judge of this
matter thus. Since we see a dog naturally formed for one thing, and a horse for another,
and for another 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 natures are different. "It seems to be so." For I think that what makes
a pancratiast beautiful, makes a wrestler to be not good, and a runner to be most
ridiculous; and he who is beautiful for the Pentathlon, is very ugly for wrestling. "It is
so," said he. What, then, makes a man beautiful? Is 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 unjust? "The just." Whether do you praise the moderate or the immoderate? "The
moderate." 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 improved, and I shall not
improve you at all, and if you come to me as to a philosopher, 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
afterward 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 scandalous 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 being a most
dissolute youth underwent such a great change. Well, suppose that he did not think that I
should be a Polemon; yet he might have set my hair right, he might have stripped off my
decorations, he might have stopped me from plucking 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 dress.

If you bring this charge against me hereafter, what defense shall I make? Why, shall I say
that the man will not be persuaded by me? Was Laius persuaded by Apollo? Did he and
get drunk and show no care for the oracle? Well then, for this reason did 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 does 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 are the words "Know yourself" written
in front of the temple, though no person 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 fellow-citizens, because you are more nearly related to me." Are you so curious,
Socrates, and such a busybody? and how does it concern 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 are 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 are 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, are 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 expect me to be like the others, or
blame my nature 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 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 are and then adorn yourself
appropriately. 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 completely. 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 rational faculty as a peculiar thing: adorn and beautify this; but leave your
hair to him who made it as he chose. Come, what other appellations have you? Are you
man or woman? "Man." Adorn yourself then as man, not as woman. Woman is naturally
smooth and delicate; 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
we 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 advantage in that case
would you have had in being adorned? for whom would you have adorned yourself, if all
human creatures were women? But you are not pleased with the matter: set to work then
upon the whole business. Take away- what is its name?- that 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 yourself? and
if women took delight in catamites, 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 Corinth and perchance a prefect of the city, or chief of the
youth, or general or superintendent 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 children, 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 good through him: for it would 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 signifies 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 flesh and hair, but you
are will; and if your will beautiful, then you will be beautiful. But up the present time I
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 nature. 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 he cleaned.
Granted, but as a cock, and the lion as a lion, and the hunting dog as a hunting dog.

Chapter 2

In what a man ought to be exercised 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
concerns the movements (toward) and the movements from an object, and generally in
doing what a man ought to do, that he may act according to order, to reason, and not
carelessly. The third thing concerns freedom from deception 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 man; for I ought not to be free from affects like a statue, but I ought to
maintain the relations natural and acquired, as a pious man, as a son, as a father, 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 intoxication, 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, lying. "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 matter of money? If you see a
beautiful girl, do you resist the appearance? If your neighbor obtains an estate by will, are
you not vexed? Now is there nothing else wanting to you except unchangeable firmness
of mind? Wretch, you hear these very things with fear and anxiety 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 person 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 "You are mistaken; it is not worth while to listen to a
certain person, for what does 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 finger? And then when the man was wild with rage,
"This," he said, "is the certain person: I 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 not plain that you value not at all your own
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
Archedemus 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 are? You have exhibited yourself to us as a mean fellow, querulous, passionate,
cowardly, finding fault with everything, blaming everybody, 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 are 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
Archedemus.

Wretch, will you not dismiss these things that do not concern you at all? These things are
suitable to those who are 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 see 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 happy 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 he 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 body is the
material 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 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 Caesar'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 depends every movement both of man and God.

For this reason the good is preferred to every intimate relationship. There is no intimate
relationship between me and my father, but there is between me and the good. "Are you
so hard-hearted?" Yes, for such is my nature; and this is the coin which God has given
me. For this reason, if the good is something different from the beautiful and the just,
both father is gone, and brother and country, and everything. But shall I 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 are 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 that
which is good. Your father takes away your property. But he does not injure 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 greater 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
coin does he use? Silver coin. Show it to him, and carry off what you please. Suppose one
comes who is an adulterer: what coin does 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 see, 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 independent
of the will. Take it away. Has the proconsul met you? Apply the rule. What kind of thing
is a proconsul's office? Independent of the will, or dependent on it? Independent. Take
this away also: it does 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 forthwith caught half-asleep by every appearance,
and it is only, if ever, that in the school we are roused a little. Then when we go out, if we
see a man lamenting, we say, "He is undone." If we see a consul, we say, "He is happy."
If we see an exiled man, we say, "He is miserable." If we see a poor man, we say, "He is
wretched: he has nothing to eat."

We ought then to eradicate these bad opinions, 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 opinion, what is blame, what is accusation, what is
impiety, what is trifling? All these things are opinions, and nothing more, and opinions
about things independent of the will, as if they were good and bad. Let a man transfer
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 being
publicly blamed on this account, and afterward 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, "Does, then, any person show his partisanship in this way?" When they
see you, said Epictetus, who are their governor, a friend of Caesar and his deputy,
showing partisanship 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 not 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 are their superiors, to whose
example should they look when they go to the theatre except yours? "See how the deputy
of Caesar 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 Caesar? What then does 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 conformable to nature: no man is dearer
to me than myself. It would be 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." Celebrate as many games as you choose in
your own house, Nemean, Pythian, Isthmian, Olympian, and proclaim him victor. But in
public do not claim more than your due, nor attempt to appropriate 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 sickness go away home

"I am sick here," said one of the pupils, "and I wish to return home." At home, I suppose,
you free from sickness. Do you not consider whether you are doing, anything here which
may be useful to the exercise of your will, that it may be corrected? For if you are doing
nothing toward this end, it was to no purpose that you came. Go away. 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 he able to increase your money, you
will take care of your father in his old age, frequent the public place, hold magisterial
office: being bad you will do badly anything else 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 are 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 surprise 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 are doing something? If
you can be doing anything better 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 that may be
free from perturbation, own will that I 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
respect 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
administration? 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 discontented? have I 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 administration." 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 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
matters of speculation?" What are you saying? "And indeed I do not see 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 anything. But if any man asked for nice little
words or little speculations, he would carry him to Protagoras or to Hippias; and if any
man came to ask for pot-herbs, he 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 happened that since reason has been more cultivated
by the men of the present age, the progress 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 maintaining the governing faculty in a condition conformable to nature, and
progress was made. Do not, then, mix things which are different and do not expect, when
you are laboring at one thing, to make progress in another. But see if any man among us
when he is intent see I upon this, the keeping himself in a state conformable 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
magisterial 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 are not altogether perverted, see 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 disposition, even if you try to turn them aside, cling
still more to reason. Wherefore Rufus generally attempted to discourage, and he used this
method as a test of those who had a good natural 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 naturally 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 are philosophers, as
those who come to a strange city inquire of the citizens 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 do with the things in cities. For that
there are 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 certainly 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, are they better, 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 replied. And on
what shall this pleasure depend? 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 depend 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 are rationally delighted
another thing; nor if that which precedes is not good, can that which comes after be 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 are 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 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 detection, 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: further 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, foolish. But even if you tell me that you do refrain, I will not believe you.
For as it is impossible 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 appears good. But wealth is a
good thing, and certainly most efficient in producing pleasure. Why will you not acquire
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 are called Stoics; for we also say one thing, but we do another: we talk
of the things which are beautiful, 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, are you thinking of a city of Epicureans? "I do not marry." "Nor I,
for a man ought not to marry; nor ought we to beget children, nor engage in public
matters." What then will happen? whence will the citizens come? who will bring them
up? who will be governor of the youth, who preside wi over gymnastic exercises? and in
what also will the teacher instruct them? will he teach them what the Lacedaemonians
were taught, or what the Athenians were taught? Come take a young man, bring him up
according to your doctrines. The doctrines are bad, subversive 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 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 persuasive power of these
things, we 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 silver 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 existence 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 material, the poor flesh, but the principal. What are these?
Engaging in public business, marrying, begetting children, venerating God, taking care of
parents, and, generally, having desires, aversions, pursuits of things and avoidances, in
the way in which we ought to do these things, and according to our nature. And how are
we constituted by nature? Free, noble, modest: for what other animal blushes? what other
is capable of receiving the appearance of shame? and we are so constituted by nature as
to subject pleasure to these things, as a minister, a servant, in order that it may call forth
our activity, in order that it may keep us constant 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? "Caesar 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 hand of Symphorus or Numenius? Before whose bedchamber have
you slept? To whom have you sent gifts? 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 unprofitable, 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 subject 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
animals. 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 punishment? Nothing else than not
having done your duty: you will lose the character of fidelity, modesty, propriety. Do not
look for greater 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 appearances also propose questions to us. "A certain
person son is dead." Answer: the thing is not within the power of the will: it is not an evil.
"A father has disinherited a certain son. What do you think of it?" It is a thing beyond the
power of the will, not an evil. "Caesar has condemned a person." It is a thing beyond the
power of the will, not an evil. "The man is afflicted at this." Affliction is a thing which
depends 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 suffer; 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 philosophers, if you would like to know. Italicus, who
was the most in repute of the philosophers, 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 9

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. Epictetus replied: If you ask me what
you will do in Rome, whether you will succeed or fall, 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 are 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 a 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 inquiry
into your opinions and have taken some pains about them. And as now you are sailing to
Rome in order to become governor of the Cnossians, and you are not content to stay at
home with the honors which you had, but you desire something greater and more
conspicuous, 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 opinions? 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 rhetoricians, 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 when would you have submitted to
any man examining and show 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 purpose, 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 another: 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, I 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 perturbation.
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 Caesar will think of me: for this reason, I flatter 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 employ 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 are disturbed, you go to the theatre or you wander about without
a purpose. Why should not the philosopher labour to improve his reason? You employ
yourself about crystal vessels: I employ myself about the syllogism named "The Living":
you about myrrhine vessels; I employ myself about the syllogism named "The Denying."
To you everything appears small that you possess: to me all that I have appears great.
Your desire is insatiable: mine is satisfied. To (children) 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 sickness

When the need of each opinion comes, we ought to have it in readiness: on the occasion
of breakfast, such as relate to breakfast; 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
scann'd; 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 "Paean 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 "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
receiving 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 matter, we give up philosophy, what
shall we gain I gain? What then should a man say on the occasion 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 aliptes." 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, well; now is the time for hunger, bear it well. Is
it not in your power? who shall hinder you? The physician will hinder you from drinking;
but he cannot prevent you from bearing thirst well: and he will hinder 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 live so? What hinders you when you have a
fever from having your ruling faculty conformable 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. if you walk about well, you have all that belongs 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 fever well? Not to blame God or man; not to be afflicted it that which
happens, to expect death well and nobly, to do what must be done: when the physician
comes in, not to be frightened at what he says; nor if he says, "You are doing well," to be
overjoyed. For what good has he told you? and when 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 are near the severance of the soul and the body? what 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 flatter the physician? Why do
you say, "If you please, master, I shall be well"? Why do you give him an opportunity of
raising his eyebrows? Do you not value a physician, as you do a shoemaker when he is
measuring 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 nature dead? He who has a fever has
an opportunity of doing this: if he does these things, he has what belongs to him. For it is
not the business of a philosopher to look after these externals, neither his wine nor his oil
nor his poor body, but his own ruling power. 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 reason for anger, and of fear about what belongs to others, about things which are of
no value? For we ought to have these two principles in readiness: that except the will
nothing is good nor bad; and that we ought not to lead events, but to follow them. "My
brother ought not to have behaved thus to me." No; but he will see 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 11

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 anything else to be evil, let him grieve, let him lament, let him weep,
let him be unhappy. And yet, though so severely punished, we cannot desist.

Remember what the poet says about the stranger:

Stranger, I must not, e'en 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 are from paternal Zeus." And of a brother, "For all are from the Zeus who presides
over kindred." 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 ourselves 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 dangerous. Ought we for this reason to practice walking on a rope, or setting up a
palm tree, or embracing statues? By no means. Everything, which is difficult and
dangerous is not suitable for practice; but that is suitable which conduces to the working
out of that which is proposed to us as a thing to be worked out. To live with desire and
aversion, free from restraint. And what is this? Neither to be disappointed in that which
you desire, nor to fall into anything which you would avoid. Toward this object, then,
exercise ought to tend. For, since it is not possible to have your desire not disappointed
and your aversion free from falling into that which you would avoid, great and constant
practice you must know that if you allow your desire and aversion 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 are 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 appearances, there
to oppose the habit of exercise.

I am rather inclined to pleasure: I will incline 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 are presented to me for the purpose of withdrawing my aversion from every such
thing. For who is a practitioner in exercise? He who practices not using his desire, and
applies his aversion only to things which are within the power of his will, and practices
most in the things which are difficult to conquer. 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?
Practice, man, if you are irritable, to endure if you are abused, not to be vexed 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 are
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 yourself 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 yourself: 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."

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 persuasive and attractive. For as Socrates
said, "we ought not to live a life without examination," so we ought not to accept an
appearance without examination, but we should say, "Wait, let me see what you are 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 it, aversion, they also may be fit means of exercise; but if they are for
display, they are the indications of one who has turned himself toward something
external, and who is hunting for something else, and who looks for spectators who will
say, "Oh the great man." For this reason, Apollonius said well, "When you intend to
exercise yourself for your own advantage, 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 kind 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
solitary. When then we have lost either a brother, or a son, or a friend on whom we were
accustomed 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 removes us from solitude, but
the sight of one 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 community 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 himself, 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 divine administration and the relation of ourselves to
everything else; to consider how we formerly were affected toward things that happen
and how at present; what are still the things which give us pain; how these also can be
cured and how removed; if any things require improvement, to improve them according
to reason.

For you see that Caesar appears 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 sorrow? He cannot. From envy? He
cannot. In a word then he cannot protect us from any of these things. But the doctrine of
philosophers promises to give us security even 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 free from everything." When a man has this peace, not
proclaimed by Caesar (for how should he be able to proclaim it?), 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 robber, no earthquake, everything is full of peace, full of
tranquillity: every way, every city, every meeting, neighbor, companion is harmless. 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
terrible, 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 Pyriphlegethon, but all is full of
Gods and Demons." 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, because I have been left alone and solitary? Shall I 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 beginners. You must then bear such things as you are
able, but conformably to nature: but not... Practice sometimes a way of living like a man
in health. Abstain from food, drink water, abstain sometimes altogether from desire, in
order that you may some time desire consistently with reason; and if consistently 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 yourself? "But, I suppose, you wish to exhort them." You
exhort them! You wish to be useful to them. Show to them in your own example 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
cannot 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 little at last, look around, stir yourself
up, that you may know who you are.

When a man drinks water, or does anything 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 are 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 circumstances, others for the purpose 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. Arrogance is removed by confutation; 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 this is philosophizing, to seek
how it is possible 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 we were horses, would you say, "My father was
swifter?" "I have much barley and fodder, or elegant 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
running in a horse, by which it will he known wh
ich is superior and inferior? Is there not modesty, fidelity, justice? Show yourself superior
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 consequences have shown themselves,
you will basely desist. "I wish to conquer at the Olympic 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 according to rules, follow strict
diet, abstain from delicacies, exercise yourself by compulsion at fixed times, in heat, in
cold; drink no cold water, nor wine, when there is opportunity of drinking it. In a word
you must surrender 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 undergoing all this, you must
sometimes be conquered. After reckoning all these things, if you have still an inclination,
go to the athletic practice. If you do not reckon them, observe you behave like children
who at one time you wi play as wrestlers, then as gladiators, then blow a trumpet, then act
a tragedy, when they have seen and admired such things. So you also do: you are at one
time a wrestler, then a gladiator, 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 consideration, 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- 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 bear.
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
philosopher? Do you think that you can eat 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 be in an inferior condition, as to magisterial
office, in honours, in courts of justice. When you have considered all these things
completely, then, if you think proper, approach to philosophy, if you would gain in
exchange for these things freedom 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 either good or bad: you must either
labour at your own ruling faculty or at external things: you must either labour at things
within or at external things: that is, you must either occupy the place of a philosopher or
that of one of the vulgar.

A person said to Rufus when Galba was murdered, "Is the world now governed by
Providence?" But Rufus replied, "Did I ever incidentally form an argument from Galba
that the world is governed by Providence?"

Chapter 16

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
generally for social purposes, he must either become 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
burning, either the quenched charcoal will quench the other, or the burning charcoal will
light that which is quenched. Since, then, the danger is so great, we must cautiously enter
into such intimacies with those of the common sort, and remember that it is impossible
that a man can keep company with one who is covered with soot without being partaker
of the soot himself. 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 discovers which are
discordant, and tunes the instrument? such a power as Socrates had who in all his social
intercourse could lead his companions to his own purpose? How should you have this
power? It is therefore a necessary consequence that you are carried about by the common
kind of people.

Why, 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
reason they are without strength and dead, and it is nauseous to listen to your exhortations
and your miserable virtue, which is talked of everywhere. In this way the vulgar have the
advantage over you: for every opinion is strong and invincible. Until, then, the good
sentiments are fixed in you, and you shall have acquired a certain power for your
security, I advise you to be careful in your association with like wax in the sun there will
be melted away whatever you inscribe on your minds in the school. Withdraw, then,
yourselves far from the sun so long as you have these waxen sentiments. For this reason
also philosophers advise men to leave their native country, because ancient 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: "See 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 nature? 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 state, 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 Providence, 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 see if he has the advantage over you in
being faithful, 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 happen," he replied, "that this day should come?" "Why then are you
vexed, if he receives something in return for that which he sells; or how can you consider
him happy who acquires those things by such means as you abominate; or what wrong
does Providence, if he gives the 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, always, and have in readiness, the truth that
this is a law of nature, that the superior has an advantage 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 added. For this reason we must not get rid of poverty, but of the opinion about
poverty, and then we shall be happy.

Chapter 18

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

Book Four

Chapter 1

About freedom

He is free who lives as he wishes to live; who is neither subject to compulsion nor to
hindrance, nor to force; whose movements to action are not impeded, 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 deceived, 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, attempting 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
senatorial 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, perhaps your father also was a slave in
the same kind of servitude, and your mother, and your grandfather and all your ancestors
in an ascending 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?" Does it seem to you to be
nothing to do a thing unwillingly, with compulsion, 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, are 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
being a slave or free? Were you never commanded by the person beloved to do
something 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 excessive tyranny. What else, then, is slavery? Did you never
go out by 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 Thrasonides 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 will 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 perception and reason would wish to be one of these
lions? Well, these birds when they are 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 nature 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 are free which
cannot endure capture, but, as soon as they are caught, escape from captivity by death. So
Diogenes 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 Athenian 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 fishes 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 in 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,
immediately it is all happiness, I 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 either works with his body and endures
the most dreadful things; and if he can obtain a manger, he falls into a slavery much
worse than his former slavery; or even if he is become rich, being a man without any
knowledge 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 me, 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 however," 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 has acquired
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,
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 are. For
this is the cause to men of all their evils, the not being able to adapt the general
preconceptions to the several things. But we have different opinions. One man thinks that
he is sick: not so however, but the fact is that he does 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 preconception of that which
is bad, that it is hurtful, that it ought to be avoided, that it ought in every way to be
guarded against? One preconception 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 embarrassed, he seeks the things which are not at all
pertinent to the matter; for when he has succeeded in being Caesar's friend, nevertheless
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
compulsion, is he tranquil, is he happy? Of whom shall we inquire? What more
trustworthy witness have we than this very man who is, become Caesar's friend? Come
forward and tell us when did you sleep more quietly, now or before you became Caesar's
friend? Immediately you hear the answer, "Stop, I entreat you, and do not mock me: you
know not what miseries I suffer, and sleep does not come to me; but one comes and says,
'Caesar is already 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 anything 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 are called kings live as they choose, nor the friends of
kings, who finally are those who are free? Seek, and you will find; for you have aids from
nature for the discovery of truth. But if you are not able yourself by going along these
ways only to discover that which follows, listen 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."
Whomsoever, then, you shall see 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 matters, 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 also: 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 not 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 free; and not only if he do this for a
bit of supper, but also if he does it for a government or a consulship: and call these men
"little 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 deserve to be. "This 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 grandfathers 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 praetexta. If, then,
he is doing nothing of this kind, do not yet say that he is free, but learn his opinions,
whether they are subject 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 Saturnalia: 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 desired by the man,
either to give it to him or to take it away? "Thus, then, have we many masters?" We have:
for we have circumstances 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 Caesar himself,
but he fears death, banishment, deprivation of his property, prison, and disgrace. Nor
does any man love Caesar, unless Caesar is a person of great merit, but he loves wealth,
the office of tribune, praetor 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 advantages; therefore he is something divine. For if we
wrongly assume that a certain person has the power of conferring the greatest advantages,
it is a necessary consequence that the conclusion from these premises must be false.

What, then, is that which makes a man free from hindrance and makes him his own
master? 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 playing the lute." Therefore in life
also it is the science of life. You have, then, heard in a general way: but examine the
thing also in the several 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
are in our own power, 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 depends on yourself
only and cannot be taken from you, or have you anything of the kind? "I know not." Look
at the thing, then, thus, examine it. Is any man able to make you assent to that which is
false? "No man." In the matter of 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
compels 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 despising 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 attempted to walk, suppose another
should hinder me." What part of you does he hinder? does 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 hindrance, to desire to move: but where there is need of body and its
co-operation, you have heard long ago that nothing is your own. "Granted 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 desires 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 another:
for what is not in your power to acquire 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
desires. If you do not, you have surrendered yourself as a slave; you have subjected your
neck, if you admire anything not your own, to everything 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 nevertheless 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 practiced 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 consider the things free from hindrance to
concern yourself, and those which are not free not to concern yourself, to keep your
desire steadily fixed to the things which do concern yourself, 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 unfortunate and
unhappy? You will then in this way, as I have supposed you to have done, be without fear
and disturbance. And what is grief to you? for fear comes from what you expect, but grief
from that which is present. But what further will you desire? For of the things which are
within the power of the will, as being 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 formidable
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 formidable. 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 dally 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 offices, honours, children, brothers, friends, by considering all
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 I have never
been hindered in my will, nor compelled 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 obtain anything? It is my wish also. Does He not
will? I do not wish. 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 judgement, 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 either of an ambassador, or of a quaestor, or of a proconsul, and when he has
attached 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 attacked by robbers? what company shall he wait for that he may pass
along in safety? to whom shall he attach himself? To what person 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-companion himself turns
against me and becomes my robber, what shall I do? I will be 'a friend of Caesar': when I
am Caesar's companion no man will wrong me. In the first place, that I may become
illustrious, what things must I endure and suffer? how often and by how many must I he
robbed? Then, if I become Caesar'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?" Thus he considers and
perceives that if he attaches himself to God, he will make his journey in safety.

"How do you understand 'attaching yourself 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 he 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 impediment and hindrance. How was He able to
make the earthly body free from hindrance? And accordingly He has subjected to the
revolution of the whole, possessions, household things, house, children, wife. Why, then,
do I fight against God? why do I will what does not depend on the will? why do I will to
have absolutely what is not granted to ma? But how ought I to will to have things? In the
way in which they are 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 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 another and even yourself, are you angry and do
you blame the Giver if he takes anything from you? Who are you, and for what purpose
did you come into the world? Did not He introduce you here, did He not show you the
light, did he not give you fellow-workers, and perception, and reason? and as whom did
He introduce you here? did He not introduce you as a subject to death, and as one to live
on the earth with a little flesh, and to observe His administration, 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 permitted, after seeing the spectacle and the solemnity, when he leads you out, go
with adoration of Him and thanks for what you have seen, and heard? "No; but I would,
still enjoy the feast." The initiated, too, would wish to be longer in the initiation: and
perhaps also those, at Olympia to see 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 necessary things. And if the
first do not retire, what remains? Why ire you insatiable? Why are you not content? why
do you contract the world? "Yes, but I would have my little children with me and my
wife." What, are they yours? do they not belong to the Giver, and to Him who made you?
then will you not give 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 conditions," 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 take 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 willingly see 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 received
for contrary purposes, the powers of magnanimity, of a generous mind, manly spirit, and
what we are now inquiring about, freedom. "For what purpose, then, have I received
these things? To use them. "How long;" So long as He who his lent them chooses. "What
if they are necessary to me?" Do not attach yourself to them and they will not be
necessary: do not say to yourself that they are necessary, and then they are not necessary.

This study you ought to practice from morning 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 body, to the parts of your body, 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
are 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 are presenting an
asserter of freedom: for this is really freedom. To this freedom Diogenes was called by
Antisthenes, and he said that he could no longer be enslaved by any man. For this reason
when he was taken prisoner, how did he behave to the pirates? Did he call any of them
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? Immediately 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 master, would he have employed him in the
exercises of the palaestra 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 absolutely 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 can not 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 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 aid 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 see him sweating, when you see him in pain and panting violently after
running. What paradox do we utter if we say that the evil in everything's 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 paradox? "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 wolf, 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 are exactly in that state in which he wishes them to
be; but he who can be restrained or compelled or hindered, or thrown into any
circumstances against his will, is a slave. But who is free from restraint? He who desires
nothing that belongs to others. And what are the things which belong to others? Those
which are not in our power either to have or not to have, or to have of a certain kind or in
a certain manner. Therefore the body belongs to another, the parts of the body belong to
another, possession belongs to another. If, then, you are attached 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, to be able to say at last with all your soul

Lead me, O Zeus, and thou O destiny, The way that I am bid by you to go. But what
do you say, philosopher? The tyrant summons you to say something which does not
become you. Do you say it or do you not? Answer me. "Let me consider." Will you
consider now? But when you were in the school, what was it which you used to consider?
Did you not study what are the things that are good and what are 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 disgraceful 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
faithless words and betrayal of a friend and flattery of a tyrant? "That they are bad." Well
then, you are not considering, nor have you considered 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 demands 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 were
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 are
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 he neither good nor
bad, but you think that they are the greatest 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 overpowered 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 words as from a hair. But keep
yourself strong and fit for the uses of life and initiated by being 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 are 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 contend with me and say that you are 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 something 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 of others, and so you are not the slave even of free men. Then you
walk about before me in stately fashion, praetor 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 value my poor body, I value greatly the
preservation of it entire, though I do not possess it entire. 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
because 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 hold of him to enslave 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 followed 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 orders, 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 power to speak both with the King of the Persians and with
Archidamus the king of the Lacedaemonians, as you please." Was it because he was born
of free parents? I suppose all the Athenians and all the Lacedaemonians, because 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 nothing, 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 directions, take Socrates and observe that he
had a wife and children, but 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 necessary; and in war he exposed himself
to danger most unsparingly, and when he was sent by the tyrants to seize Leon, he did not
even deliberate 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 difference 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 poison, and when he had the power of escaping from
prison, and when Crito said to him, "Escape for the sake of your children," what did
Socrates say? Did he consider 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
reckoning. 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 destroyed 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 refused to obey the tyrants,
he who discoursed in such a manner about virtue and right behavior. 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 preserves his character by stopping when he ought to stop, better than
when he goes on acting beyond the proper 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 answered as philosophers that those who act unjustly must be
repaid in the same way, and we should have added, "I shall be useful to many, if my life
is saved, and if I die, I shall be useful to no man." For, if it had been necessary, we 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 we
were useful to men while we were alive, should we 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 worth. And what is the wonder 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
sometimes even whole cities have perished: and will you not for the sake of the true and
unassailable 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 all which is not your own? If
you will not, you will be a slave among slaves, even 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
Cleanthes also said, but not words contrary to reason. For you will know by experience
that the words are true, and that there is no profit from the things which are valued and
eagerly sought to those who have obtained them; and to those who have not yet obtained
them there is an imagination that when these things are come, all 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 removing 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 opinion 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 yourself. But if the thought arises in your
mind. "I shall seem disobliging to him, and he will not have the same feeling toward me,"
remember that nothing is done without cost, nor is it possible for a man if he does not do
the same 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, being superior, not to obtain from your friends the same that you did
before. For if this is better, turn away to it, and let not other considerations 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 preferred this to all things, if you choose to attend 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, he agreeable to
them as you were before. Choose, then, whether you will be a hard drinker and pleasant
to your former associates or a sober man and disagreeable to them. You cannot, when
you do not sing with those with whom 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 behavior
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 Agamemnon, you must be tall and handsome, and love those who are placed in
obedience to you.

Chapter 3

What things we should exchange for 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, "I 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 tranquillity as befits a man, nor in place of lewd
talk if you have acquired modesty. If you remember this, you will always maintain your
character such as it ought to be. But if you do not, consider that the times of opportunity
are perishing, 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 steerer 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 neglecting his duty a
little, the ship is lost. Something 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 undisturbed, freedom from fear, tranquillity, in a word, "liberty." For what
will you sell these things? See what is the value of the things which you will obtain in
exchange for these. "But shall I not obtain any such thing for it?" See, and if you do in
return get that, see what you receive in place of it. "I possess decency, he possesses a
tribuneship: be possesses a praetorship, I possess modesty. But I do not make
acclamations where it is not becoming: I 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 I 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 far as to behave consistently with reason in respect to
them, content with this only. If you do not, you will be unfortunate, you will fall in all
things, you will be hindered, you will be impeded. These are 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.

Chapter 4
To those who are desirous of passing life in tranquility

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 difference 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 salutations and power are things
external and independent 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 being amused or learning
something, you are 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
does not secure for you a happy and tranquil life, what is the use of it? But it does 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 Caesar 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 is continuity and freedom from obstacle. Now I am
called to do something: I will go, then, with the purpose of observing the measures which
I must keep, of acting with modesty, steadiness, without desire and aversion to things
external; and then that I may attend to men, what they say, how they are 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 verses or written as many? For when you
eat, are you grieved because you are not reading? are 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 Caesar and
when you approach 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 yourself; if you do not envy those who are preferred before you; if
surrounding circumstances do not strike you with fear or admiration, 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 athlete 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 practice exercise; for this purpose were used the halteres, the
dust, the young men as antagonists; 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 he comprehended, and some cannot be comprehended,
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 reason is that we have never read for this purpose,
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 we terminate in this, in
learning what is said, and in being able to expound 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 are 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 desire and aversion, in order that we may neither fall in our desires,
nor fall into that which we try to avoid: if we read what is said about duty, in order that,
remembering the relations, we may do nothing irrationally nor contrary to these relations;
we should not be vexed in being hindered as to our readings, but we should be satisfied
with doing, the acts which are conformable, and we should be reckoning not what so far
we 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 employed any 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 we 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 are 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 are 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, "If so 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 discourse dally
with the young men, would have readily served in military expeditions 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
hindrance, 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?

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 occupation, 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 calling 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 fastidious about what
happens. "Vinegar is disagreeable, for it is sharp; honey is disagreeable, for it disturbs my
habit of body. I do not like vegetables." So also, "I do not like leisure; it is a desert: I do
not like a crowd; it is confusion." But if circumstances make it necessary 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 panegyris, a festival: try to enjoy the festival with other men. For
what is a more pleasant sight to him who loves mankind than a number of men? We see
with pleasure herds of horses or oxen: we are delighted when we see many ships: who is
pained when he sees many men? "But they deafen me with their 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 does God will that I should do now? what does He not will?" A little
before 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 you:
"Come now to the contest; show us what you have learned, how you have practiced the
athletic art. How long will you be exercised alone? Now is the opportunity for you to
learn whether you are an athlete worthy of victory, or one of those who go about the
world and are defeated." Why, then, are; you vexed? No contest is without confusion.
There be many who exercise 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 punishment
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 he 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 power, 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 are
subjected, you are hindered, you are compelled, you are entirely in the power of others.
But keep the words of Cleanthes in readiness,

Lead me, O Zeus, and thou necessity.

Is it your will that I should go to Rome? I will go to Rome. To Gyara? I will go to Gyara.
I will go to Athens? I 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 undone. 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 are 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 be 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 to avoid 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.

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
Fortune; 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
reputation. And if he does it for money, I say that he is a lover of money, not a lover of
labour; and if he does it through love of learning, I say that he is a lover of learning. But
if he refers his labour to his own ruling power, that he may keep it in a state conformable
to nature and pass his life in that state, then only do I say that he is industrious. For never
commend a man on account of these things which are common to all, but on account of
his opinions; 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 anything 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 are 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 because you have behaved well in one act, and to-morrow because you have
behaved well in another. How much greater is this a reason for making sacrifices than a
consulship or the government of a province? These things come to you from yourself and
from the gods. Remember 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 yon shall be happy, 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 going
on?

Chapter 5

Against the quarrelsome and ferocious

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 Xenophon's Symposium how many quarrels he settled; how further he endured
Thrasymachus and Polus and Callicles; how he tolerated his wife, and how he tolerated
his son who attempted to confute him aid to cavil with him. For he remembered well that
no man has in his power another man's ruling principle. He wished, therefore nothing else
than that which was his own. And what is this? Not that this or that man may act
according to nature; for that is a thing which belongs to another; 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 conformable to nature. For this is the object always 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 he 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 fighting, to a man who has this opinion? Is he
surprised at anything which happens, and does it 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 wickedness? "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 another, that an act of
injustice is a great harm to him who does it. Since then he has not 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 "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 are 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, see with at 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 when 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 possession 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 because a man his been born
or has died, but because it has happened to him in his lifetime to have lost the things
which are his own, not that which he received from his father, not his land and house, and
his inn, and his slaves; for not one of these things is a man's own, but 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 find 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 tolerant temper, a
disposition to mutual affection." 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 passionate, is he full of resentment, is he faultfinding? If the
whim seizes him, does he break the heads of 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 all 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 does not listen to reason, who
does not know when he is refuted: he is an ass: in another man the sense of shame is
become dead: he is good for nothing, he is anything 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 despised?" By whom? by those who know you? and
how 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 natural way the appearances which are presented to you, "In no way
can he." Why, then, are still disturbed and why do you choose to show yourself afraid?
And why do you not come forth and proclaim that you are at peace with all 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 are 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 are 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 possession 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 withdraw ourselves from that which is perishable and servile and
to labour at the things, which are 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
fighting, this is civil discord, this is war? That which made Eteocles and Polynices
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 the will, being what it ought to be, is the only good; and if the will,
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 nations
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 are read, but we do not
even come near to being convinced of them. Therefore what is said of the
Lacedaemonians, "Lions at home, but in Ephesus foxes," will fit in our case also, "Lions
in the school, but out of it foxes."

Chapter 6

Against those who lament over being 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, are 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

Diogenes Laërtius:
The Lives and Opinions of Eminent
Philosophers:
Book VII: The Stoics

Contents
LIFE OF ZENO

LIFE OF ARISTON

LIFE OF HERILLUS
LIFE OF DIONYSIUS

LIFE OF CLEANTHES

LIFE OF SPHAERUS

LIFE OF CHRYSIPPUS

LIFE OF ZENO.
[259>]

I. ZENO was the son of Innaseas, or Demeas, and a native of Citium, in Cyprus, which is
a Grecian city, partly occupied by a Phoenician colony,

II. He had his head naturally bent on one side, as Timotheus, the Athenian, tells us, in his
work on Lives. And Apollonius, the Tyrian, says that he was thin, very tall, of a dark
complexion; in reference to which some one once called him an Egyptian Clematis, as
Chrysippus relates in the first yolume of his Proverbs: he had fat, flabby, weak legs, on
which account Persaeus, in his Convivial Reminiscences, says that he used to refuse
many invitations to supper; and he was very fond, as it is said, of figs both fresh and dried
in the sun.

III. He was a pupil, as has been already stated, of Crates. After that, they say that he
became a pupil of Stilpon and of Xenocrates, for ten years, as Timocrates relates in his
Life of Dion. He is also said to have been a pupil of Polemo. But Hecaton, and
Apollonius, of Tyre, in the first book of his essay on Zeno, say that when he consulted the
oracle, as to what he ought to do to live in the most excellent manner, the God answered
him that he ought to become of the same complexion as the dead, on which he inferred
that ho ought to apply himself to the reading of the books of the ancients. Accordingly, he
attached himself to Crates in the following manner. Having purchased a quantity of
purple from Phoenicia, he was shipwrecked close to the Piraeus; and when he had made
his way from the coast as far as Athens, he sat down by a bookseller’s stall, being now
about thirty years of age. And as he took up the second book of Xenophon’s Memorabilia
and began to read it, he was delighted with it, and asked where such men as were
described in that book lived; and as Crates happened very seasonably to pass at the
moment, the book-seller pointed him out, and said, "Follow that man." From [260>]that
time forth he became a pupil of Crates; but though hea was in other respects very
energetic in his application to philosophy, still he was too modest for the shamelessness
of the Cynics. On which account, Crates, wishing to cure him of this false shame, gave
him a jar of lentil porridge to carry through the Ceramicns; and when he saw that he was
ashamed, and that he endeavored to hide it, he struck the jar with his staff, and broke it;
and, as Zeno fled away, and the lentil porridge ran all down his legs, Crates called after
him, "Why do you run away, my little Phœnician, you have done no harm?" For some
time then he continued a pupil of Crates, and when he wrote his treatise entitled the
Republic, some said, jokingly, that he bad written it upon the tail of the dog.

IV. And besides his Republic, he was the author also of the following works —a treatise
on a Life according to Nature; one on Appetite, or the Nature of Man; one on Passions;
one on the Becoming [rather: on Duty]; one on Law; one on the usual Education of the
Greeks; one on Sight; one on the Whole; one on Signs; one on the Doctrines of the
Pythagoreans; one on Things in General; one on Styles; five essays on Problems relating
to Homer; one on the Bearing [rather: Reading] of the Poets. There is also an essay on
Art by him, and two books of Solutions and Jests [rather: Refutations], and
Reminiscences, and one called the Ethics of Crates. These are the books of which he was
the author.

V. But at last he left Crates, and became the pupil of the philosophers whom I have
mentioned before, and continued with them for twenty years. So that it is related that be
said, "I now find that I made a prosperous voyage when I was wrecked." But some affirm
that he made this speech in reference to Crates. Others say, that while he was staying at
Athens he heard of a shipwreck, and said, "Fortune does well in having driven us on
philosophy." But as some relate the affair, he was not wrecked at all, but sold all his
cargo at Athens, and then turned to philosophy.

VI. And he used to walk up and down in the beautiful colonnade which is called the
Priscanactium, and which is also called poikilê, from the paintings of Polygnotus, and
there he delivered his discourses, wishing to make that spot tranquil; for in the time of the
thirty, nearly fourteen hundred of the citizens had been murdered there by them. [261>]

VII. Accordingly, for the future, men came thither to hear him, and from this his pupils
were called Stoics, and so were his successors also, who had been at first called
Zenonians, as Epicurus tells us in his Epistles. And before this time, the poets who
frequented this colonnade (stoa) had been called Stoics, as we are informed by
Eratosthenes, in the eighth book of his treatise on the Old Comedy; but now Zeno‘s
pupils made the name more notorious. Now the Athenians had a great respect for Zeno,
so that they gave him the keys of their walls, and they also honoured him with a golden
crown, and a brazen statue; and this was also done by his own countrymen, who thought
the statue of such a man an honour to their city. And the Cittiaeans, in the district of
Sidon, also claimed him as their countryman.

VIII. He was also much respected by Antigonus, who, whenever he came to Athens, used
to attend his lectures, and was constantly inviting him to come to him. But he begged off
himself, and sent Persaeus, one of his intimate friends, who was the son of Demetrius,
and a Cittiaean by birth, and who flourished about the hundred and thirtieth olympiad,
when Zeno was an old man. The letter of Antigonus to Zeno was as follows, and it is
reported by Apollonius, the Syrian, in his essay on Zeno.

KING ANTIGONUS TO ZENO THE PHILOSOPHER, GREETING.

"I think that in good fortune and glory I have the advantage of you; but in reason and
education I am inferior to you, also in that perfect happiness which you have attained to.
On which account I have thought it good to address you, and invite you to come to me,
being convinced that you will not refuse what is asked of you. Endeavour, therefore, by
all means to come to me, considering this fact, that you will not be the instructor of me
alone, but of all the Macedonians together. For he who instructs the ruler of the
Macedonians and who leads him in the path of virtue, evidently marshals all his subjects
on the road to happiness. For as the ruler is, so is it natural that his subjects for the most
part should be also."

And Zeno wrote him hack the following answer. [262>]

ZENO TO KING ANTIGONUS, GREETING.

"I admire your desire for learning, as being a true object for the wishes of mankind, and
one too that tends to their advantage. And the man who aims at the study of philosophy
has a proper disregard for the popular kind of instruction which tends only to the
corruption of the morals. And you, passing by the pleasure which is so much spoken of,
which makes the minds of some young men effeminate, show plainly that you are
inclined to noble pursuits, not merely by your nature, but also by your own deliberate
choice. And a noble nature, when it has received even a slight degree of training, and
which also meets with those who will teach it abundantly, proceeds without difficulty to a
perfect attainment of virtue. But I now find my bodily health impaired by old age, for I
am eighty years old: on which account I am unable to come to you. But I send you some
of those who have studied with me, who in that learning which has reference to the soul,
are in no respect inferior to me, and in their bodily vigour are greatly my superiors. And
if you associate with them you will want nothing that can bear upon perfect happiness."

So he sent him Persaeus and Philonides, the Theban, both of whom are mentioned by
Epicurus, in his letter to his brother Aristobulus, as being companions of Antigonus.

IX. And I have thought it worth while also to set down the decree of the Athenians
concerning him; and it is couched in the following language.

"In the archonship of Arrhenides, in the fifth presidency of the tribe Acamantis, on the
twenty-first day of the month Maimacterion, on the twenty-third day of the aforesaid
presidency, in a duly convened assembly, Hippo, the son of Cratistoteles, of the borough
of Xypetion, being one of the presidents, and the rest of the presidents, his colleagues, put
the following decree to the vote. And the decree was proposed by Thrason, of Anacaea,
the son of Thrason.

"Since Zeno the son of Innaseas, the Cittitaean, has passed many years in the city, in the
study of philosophy, being in all other respects a good man, and also exhorting all the
young men who have sought his company to the practice of virtue, and encouraging them
in the practice of temperance making his own life a model to all men of the greatest
[263>] excellence, since it has in every respect corresponded to the doctrines which he
has taught; it has been determined by the people (and may the determination be
fortunate), to praise Zeno, the son of Innaseas, the Cittiaean, and to present him with a
golden crown in accordance with the law, on account of his virtue and temperance, and to
build him a tomb in the Ceramicus, at the public expense. And the people has appointed
by its vote five men from among the citizens of Athens, who shall see to the making of
the crown and the building of the tomb. And the scribe of the borough shall enrol the
decree and engrave it on two pillars, and he shall be permitted to place one pillar in the
Academy, and one in the Lyceum. And he who is appointed to superintend the work shall
divide the expense that the pillars amount to, in such a way that every one may
understand that the whole people of Athens honours good men both while they are living
and after they are dead. And Thrason of Anacaea, Philocles of the Piaeus, Phaedrus of
Anaphlystos, Medon of Acharnaes, Mecythus of Sypalyttas, and Dion of Paeania, are
hereby appointed to superintend the building of the tomb."

These then are the terms of the decree.

X. But Antigonus, of Carystos, says, that Zeno himself never denied that he was a native
of Cittium. For that when on one occasion, there was a citizen of that town who had
contributed to the building of some baths, and was having his name engraved on the
pillar, as the countryman of Zeno the philosopher, he bade them add, "Of Cittium."

XI. And at another time, when he had had a hollow covering made for some vessel, he
carried it about for some money, in order to procure present telief for some difficulties
which were distressing Crates his aster. And they say that he, when he first arrived in
Greece, had more than a thousand talents, which he lent out at nautical usury.

XII. And he used to eat little loaves and honey, and to drink a small quantity of sweet
smelling wine.

XIII. He had very few youthful acquaintances of the male sex, and he did not cultivate
them much, lest be should be thought to be a misogynist. And he dwelt in the same house
with Persaeus; and once, when he brought in a female flute-player to him, he hastened to
bring her back to him.

XIV. And he was, it is said, of a very accommodating [264>] temper; so much so, that
Antigonus, the king, often came to dine with him, and often carried him off to dine with
hirn, at the house of Aristocles the harp-player; but when he was there, he would
presently steal away.

XV. It is also said that he avoided a crowd with great care, so that he used to sit at the end
of a bench, in order at events to avoid being incommoded on one side. And he never used
to walk with more than two or three companions. An he used at times to exact a piece of
money from all who came to bear him, with a view of not being distressed by numbers;
and this story is told by Cleanthes, in his treatise on Brazen Money. And when he was
surrounded by any great crowd, would point to a balustrade of wood at the end of the
colonnade which surrounded an altar, and say, "That was once in the middle of this place,
but it was placed apart because it was in people’s way; and now, if you will only
withdraw from the middle here, you too will incommode me much less."

And when Demochares, the son of Laches, embraced him once, and said that he would
tell Antigonus, or write to him of everything which he wanted, as he always did
everything for him, Zeno, ‚when he had heard him say this, avoided his company for the
future. And it is said, that after the death of Zeno, Antigonus said, "What a spectacle have
I lost." On which account he employed Thrason, their ambassador, to entreat of the
Athenians to allow him to be buried in the Ceramicus. And when he was asked why he
had such an admiration for him, he replied, "Because, though I gave him a great many
important presents, he was never elated, and never humbled."

He was a man of a very investigating spirit, and one who inquired very minutely into
everything; in reference to which, Timon, in his Silli, speaks thus:—

I saw an aged woman of Phoenicia,

Hungry and covetous, in a proud obscurity,
Longing for everything. She had a basket
So full of holes that it retained nothing.
Likewise her mind was less than a simdapsus [W sort of guitar or violin.]"

He used to study very carefully with Philo, the dialectician, and to argue with him at their
mutual leisure; on which [265>] account he excited the wonder of the younger Zeno, no
less than Diodorus his master.

XVIII. There were also a lot of dirty beggars always about him, as Timon tells us, where
he says

Till he collected a vast cloud of beggars,

Who were of all men in the world the poorest,
And the most worthless citizens of Athens.

And he himself was a man of a morose and bitter countenance, with a constantly
frowning expression. He was very economical, and descended even to the meanness of
the barbarians, under the pretence of economy.

XIX. If he reproved any one, he did it with brevity and without exaggeration, and as it
were, at a distance. I allude, for instance, to the way in which he spoke of a man who
took exceeding pains in setting himself off, for as he was crossing a gutter with great
hesitation, he said, "He is right to look down upon the mud, for he cannot see himself in
it." And when some Cynic one day said that he had no oil in his cruise, and asked him for
some, he refused to give him any, but bade him go away and consider which of the two
was the more impudent. He was very much in love with Chremonides; and once, when he
and Cleanthes were both sitting by him, he got up; and as Cleanthes wondered at this, he
said, "I hear from skilful physicians that the best thing for some tumours is rest." Once,
when two people were sitting above him at table at a banquet, and the one next him kept
kicking the other with his foot, he himself kicked him with his knee; and when he turned
round upon him for doing so, he said, "Why then do you think that your other neighbour
is to be treated in this way by you?"

On one occasion he said to a man who was very fond of young boys, that "Schoolmasters
who were always associating with boys had no more intellect than the boys themselves."
He used also to say that the discourses of those men who were careful to avoid solecisms,
and to adhere to the strictest rules of composition, were like Alexandrine money, they
were pleasing to the eye and well-formed like the coni, but were nothing the better for
that; but those who were not so particular he likened to the Attic tessedrachmas, which
were struck at random and without any great nicety, and so he said that their [266>]
discourses often outweighed the more polished styles of the others. And when Ariston,
his disciple, had been holding forth a good deal without much wit, but still in some points
with a good deal of readiness and confidence, he said to him, "It would be impossible for
you to speak thus, if your father had not been drunk when he begat you;" and for the
same reason he nicknamed him the chatterer, as he himself was very concise in his
speeches. Once, when he was in company with an epicure who usually left nothing for
his messmates, and when a large fish was set before him, he took it all as if he could eat
the whole of it; and when the others looked at him with astonishment, he said, "What
then do you think that your companions feel every day, if you cannot bear with my
gluttony for one day?"

On one occasion, when a youth was asking him questions with a pertinacity unsuited to
his age, he led him to a looking-glass and bade him look at himself, and then asked him
whether such questions appeared suitable to the face he saw there. And when a man said
before him once, that in most points he did not agree with the doctrines of Antisthenes, he
quoted to him an apophthegm of Sophocles, and asked him whether he thought there was
much sense in that, and when he said that he did not know, "Are you not then ashamed,"
said he, "to pick out and recollect anything bad which may have been said by
Antisthenes, but not to regard or remember what. ever is said that is good?" A man once
said, that the sayings of the philosophers appeared to him very trivial; "You say true,"
replied Zeno, "and their syllables too ought to be short, if that is possible." When some
one spoke to him of Polemo, and said that he proposed one question for discussion and
then argued another, he became angry, and said, "At what value did he estimate the
subject that had been proposed?" And he said that a man who was to discuss a question
ought to have a loud voice and great energy, like the actors, but not to open his mouth too
wide, which those who speak a great deal but only talk nonsense usually do. And he used
to say that there was no need for those who argued well to leave their hearers room to
look about them, as good workmen do ‚who want to have their work seen; but that, on the
contrary, those who are listening to them ought to be so attentive to all that is said as to
have no leisure to take notes.

[267>] Once when a young man was talking a great deal, he said, "Your ears have run
down into your tongue." On one occasion a very handsome man was saying that a wise
man did not appear to him likely to fall in love; "Then," said he, "I cannot imagine
anything that will be more miserable than you good-looking fellows." He also used often
to say that most philosophers were wise in great things, but ignorant of petty subjects and
chance details; and he used to cite the saying of Caphesius, who, when one of his pupils
was labouring hard to be able to blow very powerfully, gave him a slap, and said, that
excellence did not depend upon greatness, but greatness on excellence. Once, when a
young man was arguing very confidently, he said, "I should not like to say, O youth, all
that occurs to me." And once, when a handsome and wealthy Rhodian, but one who had
no other qualification, was pressing him to take him as a pupil, he, as he was not inclined
to receive him, first of all made him sit on the dusty seats that he might dirt his cloak,
then he put him down in the place of the poor that he might rub against their rags, and at
last the young man went away. One of his sayings used to be, that vanity was the most
unbecoming of all things, and especially so in the young. Another was, that one ought not
to try and recollect the exact words and expressions of a discourse, but to fix all one‘s
attention on the arrangement of the arguments, instead of treating it as if it were a piece
of boiled meat, or some delicate eatable. He used also to say that young men ought to
maintain the most scrupulous reserve in their walking, their gait, and their dress; and he
was constantly quoting the lines of Euripides on Capaneus, that—

His wealth was ample.

But yet no pride did mingle with his state,
Nor had he haughty thought, or arrogance
More than the poorest man.

And one of his sayings used to be, that nothing was more unfriendly to the
comprehension of the accurate sciences than poetry; and that there was nothing that we
stood in so much need of as time. When he was asked what a friend was, he replied,
"Another I." They say that he was once scourging a slave whom he had detected in theft;
and when he said to him, "It was fated that I should steal ;" he rejoined, "Yes, and that
you should be beaten." He used to call beauty the [268>] flower of the voice; but some
report this as if he had said that the voice is the flower of beauty. On one occasion, when
he saw a slave belonging to one of his friends severely bruised, he said to his friend, "I
see the footsteps of your anger." He once accosted a man who was all over unguents and
perfumes, "Who is this who smells like a woman ?" When Dionysius Metathemenus
asked him why he was the only person whom he did not correct, he replied, "Because I
have no confidence in you." A young man was talking a great deal of nonsense, and he
said to him, "This is the reason why we have two ears and only one mouth, that we may
hear more and speak less."

Once, when he was at an entertainment and remained wholly silent, he was asked what
the reason was; and so he bade the person who found fault with him tell the king that
there was a man in the room who knew how to hold his tongue; now the people who
asked him this were ambassadors who had come from Ptolemy, and who wished to know
what report they were to make of him to the king. He was once asked how he felt when
people abused him, and he said, "As an ambassador feels when he is sent away without
an answer." Apollonius of Tyre tells us, that when Crates dragged him by the cloak away
from Stilpo, he said. "O Crates, the proper way to take hold of philosophers is by the
ears; so now do you convince me and drag me by them; but if you use force towards me,
my body may be with you, but my mind with Stilpo."

XX. He used to devote a good deal of time to Diodorus, as we learn from Hippobotus;
and he studied dialectics under him. And when he had made a good deal of progress he
attached himself to Polemo because of his freedom from arrogance, so that it is reported
that he said to him, "I am not ignorant, O Zeno, that you slip into the garden-door and
steal my doctrines, and then clothe them in a Phoenician dress." When a dialectician once
showed him seven species of dialectic argument in the mowing argument [The Greek is,
en tôi therizonti logô, a species species of argument so called, because he who used it
mowed or knocked down his adversaries — Aldob.], he asked him how much he charged
for them, and when he said "A hundred drachmea,""he gave him two hundred, so
exceedingly devoted was he to learning.

They say too, that he was the first who ever em- [269>] ployed the word duty (kathêkon),
and who wrote a treatise on the subject. And that he altered the lines of Hesiod thus:—

He is the best of all men who submits

To follow good advice; he too is good,
Who of himself perceives whate‘er is fit.

[The Greek text is:

Keinos men panaristos hos eu eiponti pithêtai

Esthlos d' au kakeinos hos autos panta noêsêi.

The lines in Hesiod are:

Keinos men panaristos hos autos panta noêsêi

Esthlos d' au kakeinos hos eu eiponti pithêtai — Works & Days, 293.

That man is best, whose unassisted with

Perceives at once what in each case is fit.
And next to him, he is surely most wise,
Who willingly submits to good advice.]

For he said that that man who had the capacity to give a proper hearing to what was said,
and to avail himself of it, was superior to him who comprehended everything by his own
intellect; for that the one had only comprehension, but the one who took good advice had
action also.

XXII. When he was asked why he, who was generally austere, relaxed at a dinner party,
he said, "Lupins too are bitter, but when they are soaked they become sweet." And
Hecaton, in the second book of his Apophthegms, says, that in entertainments of that
kind, he used to indulge himself freely. And he used to say that it was better to trip with
the feet, than with the tongue. And that goodness was attained by little and little, but was
not itself a small thing. Some authors, however, attribute this saying to Socrates.

XXIII. He was a person of great powers of abstinence and endurance; and of very simple
habits, living on food which required no fire to dress it, and wearing a thin cloak, so that
it was said of him: —

The cold of winter, and the ceaseless rain,

Come powerless against him; weak is the dart
Of the fierce summer sun, or fell disease,
To bend that iron frame. He stands apart,
In nought resembling the vast common crowd;
But, patient and unwearied, night and day,
Clings to his studies and philosophy.

[270>] XXIV. And the comic poets, without intending it, praise him in their very
attempts to turn him into ridicule. Philemon speaks thus of him in his play entitled the
Philosophers :—

This man adopts a new philosophy,

He teaches to be hungry; nevertheless,
He gets disciples. Bread his only food,
His best desert dried figs; water his drink.

But some attribute these lines to Posidippus. And they have become almost a proverb.
Accordingly it used to be said of him, "More temperate than Zeno the philosopher."
Posidippus also writes thus in his Men Transported :—

So that for ten whole days he did appear

More temperate than Zeno’s self.

XXV. For in reality he did surpass all men in this description of virtue, and in dignity of
demeanour, and, by Jove, in happiness. For he lived ninety-eight years, and then died,
without any disease, and continuing in good health to the last. But Persaes, in his Ethical
School, states that he died at the age of seventy-two, and that he came to Athens when he
was twenty-two years old. But Apollonius says that he presided over his school for forty-
eight years.

XXVI. And he died in the following manner. When he was going out of his school, he
tripped, and broke one of his toes; and striking the ground with his hand, he repeated the
line out of the Niobe: —

I come: why call me so?

And immediately he strangled himself, and so he died. But the Athenians buried him in
the Ceramicus, and honoured him with the decrees which I have mentioned before,
bearing witness to his virtue. And Antipater, the Sidonian, wrote an inscription for him,
which runs thus :—

Here Cittium‘s pride, wise Zeno, lies, who climb‘d

The summits of Olympus; but unmoved
By wicked thoughts ne‘er strove to raise on Ossa
The pine-clad Pelion; nor did he emulate
Th’ immortal toils of Hercules; but found
A new way for himself to th‘ highest heaven,
By virtue, temperance, and modesty.

And Zenodotus, the Stoic, a disciple of Diogenes, wrote another: — [271>]

You made contentment the chief rule of life,

Despising haughty wealth, O God-like Zeno.
With solemn look, and hoary brow serene,
You taught a manly doctrine; and didst found
By your deep wisdom, a great novel school,
Chaste parent of unfearing liberty.
And if your country was Phoenicia,
Why need we grieve, from that land Cadmus came,
Who gave to Greece her written books of wisdom.

And Athenaeus, the Epigrammatic poet, speaks thus of all the Stoics in common

O, ye who’ve learnt the doctrines of the Porch,

And have committed to your books divine
The best of human learning; teaching men
That the mind’s virtue is the only good.
And she it is who keeps the lives of men,
And cities, safer than high gates or walls.
But those who place their happiness in pleasure,
Are led by the least worthy of the Muses.

And we also have ourselves spoken of the manner of Zeno’s death, in our collection of
poems in all metres, in the following terms:—

Some say that Zeno, pride of Citium,

Died of old age, when weak and quite worn out;
Some say that famine‘s cruel tooth did slay him;
Some that he fell, and striking hard the ground,
Said, "See, I come, why call me thus impatiently?"

For some say that this was the way in which he died. And this is enough to say
concerning his death.
XXVII. But Demetrius, the Magnesian, says, in his essay on People of the Same Name,
that his father Innaseas often came to Athens, as he was a merchant, and that he used to
bring back many of the books of the Socratic philosophers, to Zeno, while be was still
only a boy; and that, from this circumstance, Zeno had already become talked of in his
own country; and that in consequence of this he went to Athens, where he attached
himself to Crates. And it seems, he adds, that it was he who first recommended a clear
enunciation of principles, as the best remedy for error. He is said, too, to have been in the
habit of swearing "By Capers," as Socrates swore "By the Dog."

XXVIII. Some, indeed, among whom is Cassius the Sceptic, attack Zeno on many
accounts, saying first of all that he denounced the general system of education in vogue at
the [272>] time, as useless, which he did in the beginning of his Republic. And in the
second place, that he used to call all who were not virtuous, adversaries, and enemies,
and slaves, and unfriendly to one another, parents to their children, brethren to brethren.
and kinsmen to kinsmen; and again, that in his Republic, ho speaks of the virtuous as the
only citizens, and friends, and relations, and free men, so that in the doctrine of the Stoic,
even parents and their children are enemies; for they are not wise. Also, that he lays down
the principle of the community of women both in his Republic and in a poem of two
hundred verses, and teaches that neither temples nor courts of law, nor gymnasia, ought
to be erected in a city; moreover, that he writes thus about money, "That he does not
think that men ought to coin money either for purposes of traffic, or of travelling."
Besides ail this, he enjoins men and women to wear the same dress, and to leave no part
of their person uncovered.

XXIX. And that this treatise on the Republic is his work we are assured by Chrysippus, in
his Republic. He also discussed amatory subjects in the beginning of that book of his
which is entitled the Art of Love. And in his Conversations he writes in a similar manner.

Such are the charges made against him by Cassius, and also by Isidorus, of Pergamus, the
orator, who says that all the unbecoming doctrines and assertions of the Stoics were cut
out of their books by Athenodorus, the Stoic, who was the curator of the library at
Pergamus. And that subsequently they were replaced, as Athenodorus was detected, and
placed in a situation of great danger; and this is sufficient to say about those doctrines of
his which were impugned.

XXX. There were eight different persons of the name of Zeno. The first was the Eleatic,
whom we shall mention hereafter; the second was this man of whom we are now
speaking; the third was a Rhodian, who wrote a history of his country in one book; the
fourth was a historian who wrote an account of the expedition of Pyrrhus into Italy and
Sicily; and also an epitome of the transactions between the Romans and Carthaginians;
the fifth was a disciple of Chrysippus, who wrote very few books, but who left a great
number of disciples; the sixth was a physician of Hesophila, a very shrewd man in
intellect, but a very indifferent writer; the [273>] seventh was a grammarian, who,
besides other writings, has left some epigrams behind him; the eighth was a Sidonian by
descent, a philosopher of the Epicurean school, a deep thinker, and very clear writer.
XXXI. The disciples of Zeno were very numerous. The most eminent were, first of all,
Peraeus, of Cittium, the son of Demetrius, whom some call a friend of his, but others
describe him as a servant and one of the amanuenses who were sent to him by Antigonus,
to whose son, Halcymeus, he also acted as tutor. And Antigonus once, wishing to make
trial of him, caused some false news to be brought to him that his estate had been ravaged
by the enemy; and as he began to look gloomy at this news, he said to him, "You see that
wealth is not a matter of indifference."

The following works are attributed to him. One on Kingly Power; one entitled the
Constitution of the Lacedaemonians; one on Marriage; one on Impiety; the Thyestes; an
Essay on Love; a volume of Exhortations; one of Conversations; four of Apophthegms;
one of Reminiscences; seven treatises, the Laws of Plato.

The next was Ariston, of Chios, the son of Miltiades, who was the first author of the
doctrine of indifference; then Herillus, who called knowledge the chief good; then
Dionysius, who transferred this description to pleasure; as, on account of the violent
disease which he had in his eyes, he could not yet bring himself to call pain a thing
indifferent. He was a native of Heraclea; there was also Sphaerus, of the Bosphorus; and
Cleanthes, of Assos. the son of Phanias, who succeeded him in his school, and whom he
used to liken to tablets of hard wax, which are written upon with difficulty, but which
retain what is written upon them. And after Zeno‘s death, Sphaerus became a pupil of
Cleanthes. And we shall speak of him in our account of Cleanthes.

These also were all disciples of Zeno, as we are told by Hippobotus, namely :—
Philonides, of Theles; Callippus, of Corinth; Posidonius, of Alexandria; Athenodorus, of
Soli; and Zeno, a Sidonian.

XXXII. And I have thought it best to give a general account of all the Stoic doctrines in
the life of Zeno, because he it was who was the founder of the sect.

He has written a great many books, of which I have already [274>] given a list, in which
he has spoken as no other of the Stoid has. And his doctrines in general are these. But we
will enumerate them briefly, as we have been in the habit of doint in the case of the other
philosophers.

XXXIII. The Stoics divide reason according to philosophy, into three parts; and say that
one part relates to natural philosophy, one to ethics, and one to logic. And Zeno, the
Cittiaean, was the first who made this division, in his treatise on Reason; and he was
followed in it by Chrysippus, in the first book of his treatise on Reason, and in the first
book of his treatise on Natural Philosophy; and also by Apollodorus and by Syllus, in the
first book of his Introduction to the Doctrines of the Stoics; and by Eudromus, in his
Ethical Elements; and by Diogenes, the Babylonian; and Posidorus, Now these divisions
are called topics by Apollodorus, species by Chrysippus and Eudromus, and genera by all
the rest. And they compare philosophy to an animal, likening logic to the bones and
sinews, natural philosophy to the fleshy parts, and ethical philosophy to the soul. Again,
they compare it to an egg; calling logic the shell, and ethics the white, and natural
philosophy the yolk. Also to a fertile field; in which logic is the fence which goes round
it, ethics are the fruit, and natural philosophy the soil, or the fruit-trees. Again, they
compare it to a city fortified by walls, and regulated by reason; and then, as some of them
say, no one part is preferred to another, but they are all combined and united inseparably;
and so they treat of them all in combination. But others class logic first, natural
philosophy second, and ethics third as Zeno does in his treatise on Reason, and in this he
is followed by Chrysippus, and Archidemus, and Eudromus.

For Diogenes of Ptolemais begins with ethics; but Apollodorus places ethics second; and
Panaetius and Posidonius begin with natural philosophy, as Phanias, the friend of
Posidonius asserts, in the first book of his treatise on the School of Posidonius.

But Cleanthes says, that there are six divisions of reason according to philosophy:
dialectics, rhetoric, ethics, politics physics, and theology; but others assert that these are
not divisions of reason, but of philosophy itself; and this is the opinion advanced by
Zeno, of Tarsus, among others.

XXXIV. Some again say, that the logical division is [275>] properly subdivided into two
sciences, namely, rhetoric and dialectics; and some divide it also into definitive species,
which is coversant with rules and tests; while others deny the propriety of this last
division altogether, and argue that the object of rules and tests is the discovery of the
truth; for it is in this division that they explain the differences of representations. They
also argue that, on the other side, the science of definitions has equally for its object the
discovery of truth, since we only know things by the intervention of ideas. They also call
rhetoric a science conversant about speaking well concerning matters which admit of a
detailed narrative; and dialectics they call the science of arguing correctly in discussions
which can be carried on by question and answer; on which account they define it thus: a
knowledge of what is true, and false, and neither one thing nor the other.

Again, rhetoric itself they divide into three kinds; for one description they say is
concerning about giving advice, another is forensic, and the third encomiastic; and it is
also divided into several parts, one relating to the discovery of arguments, one to style,
one to the arrangement of arguments, and the other to the delivery of the speech. And a
rhetorical oration they divide into the exordium, the narration, the reply to the statements
of the adverse party, and the peroration.

XXXV. Dialectics, they say, is divided into two parts; one of which has reference to the
things signified, the other to the expression. That which has reference to the things
signified or spoken of, they divide again into the topic of things conceived in the fancy,
and into those of axioms, of perfect determinations, of predicaments, of things alike,
whether upright or prostrate, of tropes, of syllogisms, and of sophisms, which are derived
either from the voice or from the things. And these sophisms are of various kinds; there is
the false one, the one which states facts, the negative, the sorites, and others like these;
the imperfect one, the inexplicable one, the conclusive one, the veiled one, the horned
one, the nobody, and the mower.
In the second part of dialectics, that which has for its object the expression, they treat of
written language, of the different parts of a discourse, of solecism and barbarism, of
poetical forms of expression, of ambiguity, of a melodious voice, of music; and some
even add definitions, divisions, and diction. [276>] They say that the most useful of these
parts is the consideration of syllogisms; for that they show us what are the things which
are capable of demonstration, and that contributes much to the formation of our
judgment, and their arrangement and memory give a scientific character to our
knowledge. They define reasoning to be a system composed of assumptions and
conclusions; and syllogism is a syllogistic argument proceeding on them. Demonstration
they define to be a method by which one proceeds from that which is more known to that
which is less. Perception, again, is an impression produced on the mind, its name being
appropriately borrowed from impressions on wax made by a seal; and perception they
divide into, comprehensible and incomprehensible: Comprehensible, which they call the
criterion of facts, and which is produced by a real object, and is, therefore, at the same
time conformable to that object; Incomprehensible, which has no relation to any real
object, or else, if it has any such relation, does not correspond to it, being but a vague and
indistinct representation.

Dialectics itself they pronounce to be a necessary science, and a virtue which

comprehends several other virtues under its species. And the disposition not to take up
one side of an argument hastily, they defined to be a knowledge by which we are taught
when we ought to agree to a statement, and when we ought to withhold our agreement.
Discretion they consider to be a powerful reason, having reference to what is becoming,
so as to prevent our yielding to an irrelevant argument. Irrefutability they define to be a
power in an argument, which prevents one from being drawn from it to its opposite.
Freedom from vanity, according to them, is a habit which refers the perceptions back to
right reason.

Again, they define knowledge itself as an assertion or safe comprehension, or habit,

which, in the perception of what is seen, never deviates from the truth. And they say
further, that without dialectic speculation, the wise man cannot be free from all error in
his reasoning. For that that is what distinguishes what is true from what is false, and
which easily detects those arguments which are only plausible, and those which depend
upon an ambiguity of language. And without dialectics they say it is not possible to ask
or answer questions correctly. They also add, that precipitation in denials extends to those
things which are done, so that those [277>] who have not properly exercised their
perceptions fall into irregularity and thoughtlessness. Again, without dialectics, the wise
man cannot be acute, and ingenious, and wary, and altogether dangerous as an arguer. For
that it belongs to the same man to speak correctly and to reason correctly, and to discuss
properly those subjects which are proposed to him, and to answer readily whatever
questions are put to him, all which qualities belong to a man who is skilful in dialectics.
This then is a brief summary of their opinions on logic.

XXXVI. And, that we may also enter into some more minute details respecting them, we
will subjoin what refers to what they call their introductory science, as it is stated by
Diocles, of Magnesia, in his Excursion of Philosophers, where he speaks as follows, and
we will give his account word for word.

The Stoics have chosen to treat, in the first place, of perception and sensation, because
the criterion by which the truth of facts is ascertained is a kind of perception, and because
the judgment which expresses the belief, and the comprehension, and the understanding
of a thing, a judgment which precedes all others, cannot exist without perception. For
perception leads the way; and then thought, finding vent in expressions, explains in
words the feelings which it derives from perception. But there is a difference between
phantasia and phantasma. For phantasma is a conception of the intellect, such as takes
place in sleep; but phantasia is an impression, tupôsis, produced on the mind, that is to
say, an alteration, alloiôsis, as Chrysippus states in the twelfth book of his treatise on the
Soul. For we must not take this impression to resemble that made by a seal, since it is
impossible to conceive that there should be many impressions made at the same time on
the same thing. But phantasia is understood to be that which is impressed, and formed,
and imprinted by a real object, according to a real object, in such a way as it could not be
by any other than a real object; and, according to their ideas of the phantasiai, some are
sensible, and some are not. Those they call sensible, which are derived by us from some
one or more senses; and those they call not sensible, which emanate directly from the
thought, as for instance, those which relate to incorporeal objects, or any others which are
embraced by reason. Again, those which are sensible, are produced by a 278>] real
object, which imposes itself on the intelligence, and compels its acquiescence; and there
are also some others, which are simply apparent, mere shadows, which resemble those
which are produced by real objects.

Again, these phantasiai are divided into rational and irrational; those which are rational
belong to animals capable of reason; those which are irrational to animals destitute of
reason. Those which are rational are thoughts; those which are irrational have no name;
but are again subdivided into artificial and not artificial. At all events, an image is
contemplated in a different light by a man skilful in art, from that in which it is viewed by
a man ignorant of art.

By sensation, the Stoics understand a species of breath which proceeds from the
dominant portion of the soul to the senses, whether it be a sensible perception, or an
organic disposition, which, according to the notions of some of them, is crippled and
vicious. They also call sensation the energy, or active exercise, of the sense. According to
them, it is to sensation that we owe our comprehension of white and black, and rough and
smooth: from reason, that we derive the notions which result from a demonstration, those
for instance which have for their object the existence of Gods, and of Divine Providence.
For all our thoughts are formed either by indirect perception, or by similarity, or analogy,
or transposition, or combination, or opposition. By a direct perception, we perceive those
things which are the objects of sense; by similarity, those which start from some point
present to our senses; as, for instance, we form an idea of Socrates from his likeness. We
draw our conclusions by analogy, adopting either an increased idea of the thing, as of
Tityus, or the Cyclops; or a diminished idea, as of a pigmy. So, too, the idea of the centre
of the world was one derived by analogy from what we perceived to be the case of the
smaller spheres. We use transposition when we fancy eyes in a man‘s breast;
combination, when we take in the idea of a Centaur; opposition, when we turn our
thoughts to death. Some ideas we also derive from comparison, for instance, from a
comparison of words and places.

There is also nature; as by nature we comprehend what is just and good. And privation,
when for instance, we form a notion of a man without hands. Such are the doctrines of
[279>] the Stoics, on the subject of phantasia, and sensation, and thought.

XXXVII. They say that the proper criterion of truth is the comprehension, phantasia; that
is to say, one which is derived from a real object, as Chrysippus asserts in the twelfth
book of his Physics; and he is followed by Antipater and Apollodorus. For Boethius
leaves a great many criteria, such as intellect, sensation, appetite, and knowledge; but
Chrysippus dissents from his view, and in the first book of his treatise on Reason, says,
that sensation and preconception are the only criteria. And preconception is, according to
him, a comprehensive physical notion of general principles. But others of the earlier
Stoics admit right reason as one criterion of the truth; for instance, this is the opinion of
Posidonius, and is advanced by him in his essay on Criteria.

XXXVIII. On the subject of logical speculation, there appears to be a great unanimity

among the greater part of the Stoics, in beginning with the topic of the voice. Now voice
is a percussion of the air; or, as Diogenes the Babylonian, defines it, in his essay on the
Voice, a sensation peculiar to the hearing. The voice of a beast is a mere percussion of
the air by some impetus: but the voice of a man is articulate, and is emitted by intellect,
as Diogenes lays it down, and is not brought to perfection in a shorter period than
fourteen years. And the voice is a body according to the Stoics; for so it is laid down by
Archidemus, in his book on the Voice, and by Diogenes, and Antipater, and also by
Chrysippus, in the second volume of his Physics. For everything which makes anything,
is a body; and the voice makes something when it proceeds to those who hear from those
who speak.

A word (lexis), again, is, according to Diogenes, a voice consisting of letters, as "Day." A
sentence (logos) is a significant voice, sent out by the intellect, as for instance, "It is day;"
but dialect is a peculiar style imprinted on the utterance of nations, according to their
race; and causes varieties in the Greek language, being a sort of local habit, as for
instance, the Attics say thalatta, and the lonians say hêmerê. The elements of words are
the twenty-four letters and the word letter is used in a triple division of sense, meaning
the element itself, the graphical sign of the element, and the name, as Alpha. There are
seven vowels, a, e, ê, i, o, u, ô; six mutes, b, g, d, k, p, t. But voice is different from
[280>] a word, because voice is a sound; but a word is an articulate sound. And a word
differs from a sentence, because a sentence is always significative of something, but a
word by itself has no signification, as for instance, blitri:. But this is not the case with a
sentence. Again, there is a difference between speaking and pronouncing; the sounds are
pronounced, but what are spoken are things which are capable of being spoken of.
XXXIX. Now of sentences there are five parts, as Diogenes tells us in his treatise on
Voice; and he is followed by Chrysippus. There is the noun, the common noun, the verb,
the conjunction, and the article. Antipater adds also quality, in his treatise upon Words
and the things expressed by them. And a common noun (prosêgoria) is, according to
Diogenes, a part of a sentence signifying a common quality, as for instance, man, horse.
But a noun is a part of a sentence signifying a peculiar quality, such as Diogenes,
Socrates. A verb is a part of a sentence signifying an uncombined categorem, as Diogenes
(ho Diogenês) or, as others define it, an element of a sentence, devoid of case, signifying
something compound in reference to some person or persons, as, "I write," "I say." A
conjunction is a part of a sentence destitute of case, uniting the divisions of the sentence.
An article is an element of a sentence, having cases, defining the genders of nouns and
their numbers; as ho, hê, to, hoi, hai, ta.

XL. The excellences of a sentence are five,—good Greek, clearness, conciseness,

suitableness, elegance. Good Greek (Hellênismos) is a correct style, according to art,
keeping aloof from any vulgar form of expression; clearness is a style which states that
which is conceived in the mind in such a way that it is easily known: conciseness is a
style which embraces all that is necessary to the clear explanation of the subject under.
discussion; suitableness is a style suited to the subject; elegance is a style which avoids
all peculiarity of expression. Of the vices of a sentence, on the other hand, barbarism is a
use of words contrary to that in vogue among the well-educated Greeks; solecism is a
sentence incongruously put together.

XLI. A poetical expression is, as Posidonius defines it in his introduction on Style, "A
metrical or rhythmical diction, proceeding in preparation, and avoiding all resemblance to
prose." For instance, "The vast and boundless earth," "Th‘ expanse of heaven," are
rhythmical expressions; and [281>] poetry is a collection of poetical expressions
signifying something, containing an imitation of divine and human beings.

XLII. A definition is, as Antipater explains it in the first book of his treatise on
Definitions, a sentence proceeding by analysis enunciated in such a way as to give a
complete idea; or, as Chrysippus says in his treatise on Definitions, it is the explanation
of an idea. Description is a sentence which, in a figurative manner, brings one to a
knowledge of the subject, or it may be called a simpler kind of definition, expressing the
power of a definition in plainer language. Genus is a comprehending of many ideas
indissolubly connected, as animal; for this one expression comprehends all particular
kinds of animals. An idea is an imagination of the mind which does not express actually
anything real, or any quality, but only a quasi reality and a quasi quality; such, for
instance, is the idea of a horse when a horse is not present. Species is that which is
comprehended under genius, as man is comprehended under animal.

Again, that is the most general genus which, being a genus itself, has no other genus, as
the existent. And that is the most special species, which being a species has no other
species, as, for instance, Socrates.
XLIII. The division of genus is a dissection of it into the proximate species; as, for
instance, "Of animals, some are rational, others irrational." Contrary division is the
dissection of genus into species on the principle of the contrary; so as to be by a sort of
negation; as, for instance, "Of existent things, some are good and some not good;" and,
"Of things which arc not good, some are bad and some indifferent." Partition is an
arrangement of a genus with reference to place, as Crinis says, for instance, "Of goods,
some have reference to the mind and some to the body."

XLIV. Ambiguity (amphibolia) is an expression signifying two or more things having an

ordinary or a peculiar meaning, according to the pronunciation, in such a way that more
things than one may be understood by the very same expression. Take, for instance, the
words aulêtris peptôke. For you may understand by them, a house has fallen down three
times (aulêtris peptôke), or, a female flute-player has fallen, taking aulêtris as
synonymous with aulêtria.

LV. Dialectics are, as Posidonius explains them, the science [282>] of what is true and
false, and neither one or the other, and it is, as Chrysippus explains it, conversant about
words that signify and things that are signified; these then are the doctrines asserted by
the Stoics in their speculations on the subject of the voice.

XLVI. But in that part of dialectics which concerns things and ideas signified, they treat
of propositions, of perfect enunciations, of judgments, of syllogisms, of imperfect
enunciations, of attributes and deficiencies, and of both direct and indirect categorems or
predicaments.

XLVII. And they say that enunciation is the manifestation of the ideal perception; and
these enunciations the Stoics pronounce some to be perfect in themselves, and some to be
defective; now those are defective, which furnish an incomplete sense, as for instance,
"He writes." For then we ask further, "Who writes?" But those are perfect in themselves,
which give a sense entirely complete, as for instance, " Socrates writes." Accordingly, in
the defective enunciations, categorems are applied; but in those which are perfect in
themselves, axioms,. and syllogisms, and questions, and interrogations, are brought into
play. Now a categorem is something which is predicated of something else, being either a
thing which is added to one or more objects, according to the definition of Apollodorus,
or else a defective enunciation added to the nominative case, for the purpose of forming a
proposition.

Now of categorems, some are accidents . . . . as for instance, "The sailing through a
rock." . . . . And of categorems, some are direct, some indirect, and some neither one nor
the other. Now those are correct, which are construed with one of the oblique cases, in
such a manner as to produce a categorem, as for instance, "He hears, he sees, he
converses." And those are indirect, which are construed with the passive voice, as for
instance, "I am heard, I am seen." [283>] And those which are neither one nor the other,
are those which are construed in a neutral kind of manner, as for instance, "To think, to
walk." And those are reciprocal, which are among the indirect ones, with out being
indirect themselves. Those are effects, energêmata, which are such words as, "He is
shaved;" for then, the man who is shaved, implies himself.

The oblique cases, are the genitive, the dative, and the accusative.

XLVIII. An axiom, is that thing which is true, or false, or perfect in itself, being asserted,
or denied positively, as far as depends upon itself; as Chrysippus explains it in his
Dialectic Definitions; as for instance, "It is day," "Dion is walking." And it has received
the name of axiom, axiôma, because it is either maintained, axioutai, or repudiated. For
the man who says, "It is day," appears to maintain the fact of its being day. If then it is
day, the axiom put before one is true; but if it is not day, the axiom is false. And an
axiom, a question, and an interrogation, differ from one another, and so does an
imperative proposition from one which is adjurative, or imprecatory, or hypothetical, or
appellative, or false. For that is an axiom which we utter, when we affirm anything
positively, which is either true or false. And a question is a thing complete in itself, as
also is an axiom, but which requires an answer, as for instance, " Is it day?" Now this is
neither true nor false; but, as "It is day" is an axiom; so is, "Is it day?" a question. But an
interrogation, tusma, is a thing to which it is not possible to make an answer
symbolically, as in the case of a question erôtêma, saying merely "Yes," but we must
reply, "He does live in this place."

The imperative proposition is a thing which we utter when we give an order, as for
instance this

Do you now go to the sweet stream of Inachus.

[This line is from the Inachus of Sophocles, (one of his lost plays).]

The appellative proposition is one which is used in the ease in which, when a man says
anything, he must address somebody, as for instance :—

Atridos, glorious king of men,

Most mighty Agamemnon.
[Homer, Illiad, ii, 484]

A false judgment is a proposition, which, while it has at the [284>] same time the
appearance of a real judgment, loses this:character by the addition, and under the
influence of, some particle, as for instance

The Parthenon at least is beautiful.

How like the herdsman is to Priam‘s Sons.

There is also the dubitative proposition, which differs from the judgment, inasmuch as it
is always uttered in the form of a doubt; as for instance:—
Are not, then, grief and life two kindred states?
[This line is from, the Citharista of Menander.]

But questions, and interrogations, and things like these, are neither true nor false, while
judgments and propositions are necessarily one or the other.

Now of axioms, some are simple, and others are not simple; as Chrysippus, and
Archedemus, and Athenodorus, and Antipater, and Crinis, agree in dividing them. Those
are simple, which consist of an axiom or proposition, which is not ambiguous, (or of
several axioms, or propositions of the same character,) as for instance the sentence, "It is
day." And; those are not simple, which consist of an axiom or proposition; which is
ambiguous, or of several axioms or propositions of that character. Of an axiom, or
proposition, which is ambiguous, as "If it is day;" of several axioms, or propositions of
that character, as, "If it is day, it is light."

And simple propositions are divided into the affirmative, the negative, the privative, the
categorical, the definite, and the indefinite; those which are not simple, are divided into
the combined, and the adjunctive, the connected and the disjunctive, and the causal and
the augmentative, and the diminutive. That is an affirmative proposition, "It is not day."
And the species of this is doubly affirmative. That again is doubly affirmative, which is
affirmative of an affirmative, as for instance, "It is not not day;" for this amounts to, "It is
day." That is a negative proposition, which consists of a negative particle and a
categorem, as for instance, "No one is walking." That is a privative proposition which
consists of a privative particle and an axiom according to power, as "This man is
inhuman." That is a categorical proposition, which consists of a nominative case and a
categorem, as for instance, "Dion is walking." That is a definite proposition, [285>]
which consists of a demonstrative nominative case and a categorem, as for instance,
"This man is walking." That is an indefinite one which consists of an indefinite particle,
or of indefinite particles, as for instance, " Somebody is walking," "Re is moving."

Of propositions which are not simple, the combined proposition is, as Chrysippus states,
in his Dialectics, and Diogenes, too, in his Dialectic Art; that which is held together by
the copulative conjunction "if." And this conjunction professes that the second member
of the sentence follows the first, as for instance, "If it is day, it is light." That which is
adjunctive is, as Crinis states in his Dialectic Art, an axiom which is made to depend on
the conjunction "since" (epei), beginning with an axiom and ending in an axiom, as for
instance, "Since it is day, it is light." And this conjunction professes both that the second
portion of the proposition follows the first, and the first is true. That is a connected
proposition which is connected by some copulative conjunctions, as for instance, "It both
is day, and it is light." That is a disjunctive proposition which is disconnected by the
disjunctive conjunction, "or" (êtoi) as for instance, "It is either day or night." And this
proposition professes that one or other of these propositions is false. That is a causal
proposition which is connected by the word, "because;" as for instance, "Because it is
day, it is light." For the first is, as it were, the cause of the second. That is an
augmentative proposition, which explains the greater, which is construed with an
augmentative particle, and which is placed between the two members of the proposition,
as for instance, "It is rather day than night." The diminutive proposition is, in every
respect, the exact contrary of the preceding one; as for instance, "It is less night than
day." Again, at times, axioms or propositions are opposed to one another in respect of
their truth and falsehood, when one is an express denial of the other; as for instance, "It is
day," and, "It is not day."

Again, a conjunctive proposition is correct, when it is such that the opposite of the
conclusion is contradictory of the premise; as for instance, the proposition, "If it is day, it
is light," is true; for, "It is not light," which is the opposite to the conclusion expressed, is
contradictory to the premise, "It is day." And a conjunctive proposition is incorrect, when
it [286>] is such that the opposite of the conclusion is not inconsistent with the premise,
as for instance, " If it is day, Dion is walking." For the fact that Dion is not walking, is
not contradictory of the premise, "It is day."

An adjunctive proposition is correct, which begins with a true premise, and ends in a
consequence which follows of necessity, as for instance, "Since it is day, the sun is above
the earth." But it is incorrect when it either begins with a false premise, or ends with a
consequence which does not follow properly; as for instance, "Since it is night, Dion is
walking," for this may be said in the day-time.

A causal proposition is correct, when it begins with a true premise, and ends in a
consequence which necessarily follows from it, but yet does not have its premise
reciprocally consequent upon its conclusion; as for instance, "Because it is day, it is
light." For the fact of its being light, is a necessary consequence of its being day; but the
fact of its being day, is not necessarily a consequence of its being light. A causal
proposition is incorrect, which either begins with a false premise, or ends with a
conclusion that does not follow from it, or which has a premise which does not
correspond to the conclusion; as for instance, "Because it is night, Dion is walking."

A proposition is persuasive, which leads to the assent of the mind, as for instance, "If she
brought him forth, she is his mother." But still this is a falsehood, for a hen is not the
mother of an egg. Again, there are some propositions which are possible, and some which
are impossible; and some which are necessary, and some which are not necessary. That is
possible, which is capable of being true, since external circumstances are no hindrance to
its being true; as for instance, "Diocles lives." And that is impossible which is not capable
of being true; as for instance, "The earth flies." That is necessary which, being true, is not
capable of being false; or perhaps is intrinsically capable of being false, but still has
external circumstances which hinder its being false, as for instance, "Virtue profits a
man." That again, is not necessary, which is true, but which has a capacity of being false,
though external circumstances offer no hindrance to either alternative; as for instance,
"Dion walks."

That is a reasonable or probable proposition, which has a [287>] great preponderance of

opportunities in favour of its being true; as for instance, "I shall be alive to-morrow." And
there are other different kinds of propositions and conversions of them, from true to false,
and reconversions again; concerning which we must speak at some length.
XLIX. An argument, as Criuis says, is that which is composed of a lemma or major
premise, an assumption or minor premise, and a conclusion; as for instance this, "If it is
day, it is light;" "But it is day, therefore it is light." For the lemma, or major premise, is,
"If it is day, it is light." The assumption, or minor premise, is, "It is day." The conclusion
follows, "Therefore it is light." The mode of a proposition is, as it were, a figure of an
argument, as for instance, such as this, "If it is the first, it is the second ; but it is the first,
therefore it is the second."

A conditional syllogism is that which is composed of both the preceding arguments; as

for instance, "If Plato is alive, Plato breathes; but the first fact is so, therefore so is the
second." And this conditional syllogism has been introduced for the sake, in long and
complex sentences, of not being forced to repeat the assumption, as it was a long one, and
also the conclusion; but of being able, instead, to content one‘s self with summing it up
briefly thus, "The first case put is true, therefore so is the second."

Of arguments, some are conclusive, others are inconclusive. Those are inconclusive
which are such, that the opposite of the conclusion drawn in them is not necessarily
incompatible with the connection of the premises. As for instance, such arguments as
these, " If it is day, it is light; but it is day, therefore, Dion is walking." But of conclusive
arguments, some are called properly by the kindred name conclusions, and some are
called syllogistic arguments. Those then are syllogistic which are either such as do not
admit of demonstration, or such as are brought to an indemonstrable conclusion,
according to some one or more propositions; such for instance as the following: "If Dion
walks, then Dion is in motion." Those are conclusive, which infer their conclusion
specially, and not syllogistically; such for instance, as this, "The proposition it is both day
and night is false. Now it is day; therefore, it is not night."

Those again, are unsyllogistic arguments which have an air [288>] of probability about
them, and a resemblance to syllogistic ones, but which still do not lead to the deduction
of proper. conclusions. As for instance, "If Dion is a horse, Dion is an animal; but Dion is
not a horse, therefore, Dion is not an animal."

Again, of arguments, some are true, and some are false. Those are true which deduce a
conclusion from true premises, as, for instance, "If virtue profits, then vice injures." And
those are false which have some falsehood in their premises, or which are inconclusive;
as, for instance, "If it is day, it is light; but it is day, therefore, Dion is alive."

There are also arguments which are possible, and others which are impossible; some
likewise which are necessary, and others which are not necessary. There are too, some
which are not demonstrated from their not standing in need of demonstration, and these
are laid down differently by different people; but Chrysippus enumerates five kinds,
which serve as the foundation for every kind of argument; and which are assumed in
conclusive arguments properly so called, and in syllogisms, and in modes.

The first kind that is not demonstrated, is that in which the whole argument consists of a
conjunctive and an antecedent; and in which the first term repeats itself so as to form a
sort of conjunctive proposition, and to bring forward as the conclusion the last term. As,
for instance, "If the first be true, so is the second; but the first is true, therefore, so is the
second." The second kind that is not demonstrated, is that which, by means of the
conjunctive and the opposite of the conclusion, has a conclusion opposite to the first
premise. As, for instance, "If it be day, it is light; but it is night, therefore it is not day."
For here the assumption arises from the opposite of the conclusion, and the conclusion
from the opposite of the first term. The third kind that is not demonstrative, is that which,
by a negative combination, and by one of the terms in the proposition, produces the
contradictory of the remainder; as, for instance, "Plato is not dead and alive at the same
time but Plato is dead; therefore, Plato is not alive." The fourth kind that is not
demonstrative, is that which, by means of a disjunctive, and one of those terms which are
in the disjunctive, has a conclusion opposite to what remains; as, for instance, "It is either
the first, or the second: but it [289>] is the first; therefore, it is not the second." The fifth
kind that is not demonstrative, is that in which the whole argument consists of a
disjunctive proposition, and the opposite of one of the terms, and then one makes the
conclusion identical with the remainder; as, for instance, "It is either day or night but it is
not night; therefore it is day."

According to the Stoics, truth follows upon truth, as "It is light," follows upon "It is day."
And falsehood follows upon falsehood; as, "If it is false that it is night, it is also false that
it is dark." Sometimes too, truth follows from falsehood; for instance, though it is false
that "the earth flies," it is true that "there is the earth." But falsehood does never follow
from truth; for, from the fact that "there is the earth," it does not follow "that the earth
flies."

There are also some arguments which are perplexed, being veiled and escaping notice; or
such as are called sorites, the horned one, or the nobody. That is a veiled argument*
which resembles the following one; "two are not a few, nor three, nor those, nor four, and
so on to ten; but two are few; therefore, so are ten few." [* It would appear that there is a
considerable hiatus here; for the instance following is a sorites, and not a specimen of the
veiled argument. And there is no instance given of the concealed, or of the horned one.
Still, the mere fact of the text being unintelligible, is far from proving that we have not
got it as Diogenes wrote it; as though in the language of the writer in Smith‘s
Biographical Dictionary, vol. i. pp. 1022, 1023, "the work contains a rich store of living
features, which serve to illustrate the private life of the Greeks," it is equally clear that the
author "was unequal to writing a history of Greek philosophy. His work in reality is
nothing but a compilation of the most heterogeneous and often contradictory accounts
….. The traces of carelessness and mistakes are very numerous; much in the work is
confused, and there is also much that is quite absurd. And as far as philosophy itself is
concerned, Diogenes very frequently did not know what he was talking about when he
abridged the theories of the philosophers."]

The nobody is a conjunctive argument, and one that consists of the indefinite and the
definite, and which has a minor premise and a conclusion; as, for instance, "If any one is
here, he is not in Rhodes."
L. Such then are the doctrines which the Stoics maintain on the subject of logic, in order
as far as possible to establish their point that the logician is the only wise man. For they
assert that all affairs are looked at by means of that speculation [290>] which proceeds by
argument, including under this assertion both those that belong to natural aud also those
which belong to moral philosophy for, say they, how else could one determine the exact
value of nouns, or how else could one explain what laws are imposed upon such and such
actions? Moreover, as there are two habits both incidental to virtue, the one considers
what each existing thing is, and the other inquires what it is called. These then are the
notions of the Stoics on the subject of logic.

LI. The ethical part of philosophy they divide into the topic of inclination, the topic of
good and bad, the topic of the passions, the topic of virtue, the topic of the chief good,
and of primary estimation, and of actions; the topic of what things are becoming, and of
exhortation and dissuasion. And this division is the one laid down by Chrysippus, and
Archedemus, and Zeno, of Tarsus, and Apollodorus, and Diogenes, and Antipater, and
Posidonius. For Zeno, of Cittium, and Cleanthes, have, as being more ancient they were
likely to, adopted a more simple method of treating these subjects. But these men divided
logical and the natural philosophy.

LII. They say that the first inclination which an animal has is to protect itself, as nature
brings herself to take an interest in it from the beginning, as Chrysippus affirms in the
first book of his treatise on Ends; where he says, that the first and dearest object to every
animal is its own existence, and its consciousness of that existence. For that it is not
natural for any animal to be alienated from itself, or even to be brought into such a state
as to be indifferent to itself, being neither alienated from nor interested in itself. It
remains, therefore, that we must assert that nature has bound the animal to itself by the
greatest unanimity and affection for by that means it repels all that is injurious, and
attracts all that is akin to it and desirable. But as for what some people say, that the first
inclination of animals is to pleasure, they say what is false. For they say that pleasure, if
there be any such thing at all, is an accessory only, which, nature, having sought it out by
itself, as well as these things which are adapted to its constitution, receives incidentally in
the same manner as animals are pleased, and plants made to flourish.

Moreover, say they, nature makes no difference between [291>] animals and plants,
when she regulates them. so as to leave them without voluntary motion or sense; and
some things too take place in ourselves in the same manner as in plants. But, as
inclination in animals tends chiefly to the point of making them pursue what is
appropriate to them, we may say that their inclinations are regulated by nature. And as
reason is given to rational animals according to a more perfect principle, it follows, that
to live correctly according to reason, is properly predicated of those who live according
to nature. For nature is as it were the artist who produces the inclination.

LIII. On which account Zeno was the first writer who, in his treatise on the Nature of
Man, said, that the chief good was confessedly to live according to nature; which is to
live according to virtue, for nature leads us to this point. And in like manner Cleanthes
speaks in his treatise on Pleasure, and so do Posidonius and Hecaton in their essays on
Ends as the Chief Good. And again, to live according to virtue is the same thing as living
according to one’s experience of those things which happen by nature; as Chrysippus
explains it in the first book of his treatise on the Chief Good. For our individual natures
are all parts of universal nature; on which account the chief good is to live in a manner
corresponding to nature, and that means corresponding to one‘s own nature and to
universal nature; doing none of those things which the common law of mankind is in the
habit of forbidding, and that common law is identical with that right reason which
pervades everything, being the same with Jupiter, who is the regulator and chief manager
of all existing things.

Again, this very thing is the virtue of the happy man and the perfect happiness of life
when everything is done according to a harmony with the genius of each individual with
reference to the will of the universal governor and manager of all things. Diogenes,
accordingly, says expressly that the chief good is to act according to sound reason in our
selection of things according to our nature. And Archidemus defines it to be living in the
discharge of all becoming duties. Chrysippus again understands that the nature, in a
manner corresponding to which we ought to live, is both the common nature, and also
human nature in particular; but Cleanthes will not admit of any other nature than the
common one alone, as that to which people ought to live in a manner corresponding; and
re- [293>] pudiates all mention of a particular nature. And he asserts that virtue is a
disposition of the mind always consistent and always harmonious; that one ought to seek
it out for its own sake, without being influenced by fear or hope by any external
influence. Moreover, that it is in it that happiness consists, as producing in the soul the
harmony of a life always consistent with itself; and that if a rational animal goes the
wrong way, it is because it allows itself to be misled by the deceitful appearances of
exterior things, or perhaps by the instigation of those who surround it; for nature herself
never gives us any but good inclinations.

LIV. Now virtue is, to speak generally, a perfection in everything, as in the case of a
statue; whether it is invisible as good health, or speculative as prudence. For Hecaton
says, in the first book of his treatise on Virtues, that the scientific and speculative virtues
are those which have a constitution arising from speculation and study, as, for instance,
prudence and justice; and that those which are not speculative are those which are
generally viewed in their extension as a practical result or effect of the former; such for
instance, as health and strength. Accordingly, temperance is one of the speculative
virtues, and it happens that good health usually follows it, and is marshalled as it were
beside it; in the same way as strength follows the proper structure of an arch. — And the
unspeculative virtues derive their name from the fact of their not proceeding from any
acquiescence reflected by intelligence; but they are derived from others, are only
accessories, and are found even in worthless people, as in the case of good health, or
courage. And Posidonius, in the first hook of his treaties on Ethics, says that the great
proof of the reality of virtue is that Socrates, and Diogenes, and Antisthenes, made great
improvement; and the great proof of the reality of vice may be found in the fact of its
being opposed to virtue.
Again, Chrysippus, in the first book of his treatise on the Chief Good, and Cleanthes, and
also Posidonius in his Exhortations, and Hecaton, all agree that virtue may be taught. And
that they are right, and that it may be taught, is plain from men becoming good after
having been bad. On this account Panaetius teaches that there are two virtues, one
speculative and the other practical; but others make three kinds, the logical, the natural,
and the ethical. Posidonius [293>] divides virtue into four divisions; and Cleanthes,
Chrysippus, and Antipater make the divisions more numerous still; for Apollophanes
asserts that there is but one virtue, namely, prudence.

Among the virtues some are primitive [viz., primary] and some are derived. The primitive
ones are prudence, manly courage, justice, and temperance. And subordinate to these, as
a kind of species contained in them, are magnanimity, continence, endurance, presence of
mind, wisdom in council. And the Stoics define prudence as a knowledge of what is
good, and bad, and indifferent; justice as a knowledge of what ought to be chosen, what
ought to be avoided, and what is indifferent; magnanimity as a knowledge of engendering
a lofty habit, superior to all such accidents as happen to all men indifferently, whether
they be good or bad; continence they consider a disposition which never abandons right
reason, or a habit which never yields to pleasure; endurance they call a knowledge or
habit by which we understand what we ought to endure, what we ought not, and what is
indifferent; presence of mind they define as a habit which is prompt at finding out what is
suitable on a sudden emergency; and wisdom in counsel they think a knowledge which
leads us to judge what we are to do, and how we are to do it, in order to act becomingly.
And analogously, of vices too there are some which are primary, and some which are
subordinate; as, for instance, folly, and cowardice, and injustice, and intemperance, are
among the primary vices ; incontinence, slowness, and folly in counsel among the
subordinate ones. And the vices are ignorance of those things of which the virtues are the
knowledge.

LV. Good, looked at in a general way, is some advantage, with the more particular
distinction, being partly what is actually useful, partly what is not contrary to utility. On
which account virtue itself and the good which partakes of virtue are spoken of in a
threefold view of the subject. First, as to what kind of good it is, and from what it ensues;
as, for instance, in an action done according to virtue. Secondly, as to the agent, in the
case of a good man who partakes of virtue.

*****

[The third point of view is wanting; and those that are given appear to be ill selected. The
French translator, following the hint of Huebner, gives the following passage from Sextus
Empiricus (a physician of the Sceptic school, about b.c. 250), in his work against the
Philosophers, which he says may serve to rectify and complete the statement of Diogenes
Laertins. "Good is said, in one sense of that which produces the useful, or from which the
useful results; that is, the good per excellence, virtue. For virtue is as it were the source
from which all utility naturally flows. In another sense it is said of that which is
accidentally the cause of utility; under this point of view we call good not only virtue, but
also those actions which are conformable to virtue, for they are accidentally useful. In the
third and last place, we call good everything that possibly can be useful, comprehending
under this definition virtue, virtuous actions, friends, good men, the Gods, &c., &c."]
[294>]

At another time, they define the good in a peculiar manner, as being what is perfect
according to the nature of a rational being as rational being. And, secondly, they say that
it is conformity to virtue, se that all actions which partake of virtue, and all good men, are
themselves in some sense the good. And in the third place, they speak of its accessories,
joy, and mirth, and things of that kind. In the same manner they speak of vices, which
they divide into folly, cowardice, injustice., and things of that hind. And they consider
that these things which partake of vices, and actions done according to vice, and bad men,
are themselves in some sense the evil; and its accessories are despondency, and
melancholy, and other things of that kind.

LVI. Again, of goods, some have reference to the mind, and some are external; and some
neither have reference to the mind, nor are external. The goods having reference to the
mind are virtues, and actions according to the virtues. The external goods are the having a
virtuous country, a virtuous friend, and the happiness of one’s country and friend. And
these which are not external, and which have no reference to the mind, are such as a
man‘s being virtuous and happy to himself. And reciprocally, of evils, some have
reference to the mind, such as the vices and actions according to them; some are external,
such as having a foolish country, or a foolish friend, or one‘s country or one’s friend
being unhappy. And these evils which are net external, and which have no reference to
the mind, are suck as a man‘s being worthless and unhappy to himself.

LVII. Again, of goods, some are final, some are efficient, and some are both final and
efficient. For instance, a friend, [295>] and the services done by him to one, are efficient
goods; but courage, and prudence, and liberty, and delight, and mirth, and freedom from
pain, and all kinds of actions done according to virtue, are final goods. There are too, as I
said before, some goods which are both efficient and final; for inasmuch as they produce
perfect happiness they are efficient, and inasmuch as they complete it by being
themselves parts of it, they are final. And in the same way, of evils, some are final, and
some efficient, and some partake of both natures. For instance, an enemy and the injuries
done to one by him, are efficient evils; fear, meanness of condition, slavery, want of
delight, depression of spirits, excessive grief, and all actions done according to vice, are
final evils ; and some partake or both characters, since, inasmuch as they produce perfect
unhappiness, they are efficient; and inasmuch as they complete it in such a way as to
become parts of it, they are final.

LVIII. Again, of the goods which have reference to the mind, some are habits, some are
dispositions, and some are neither habits nor dispositions. Dispositions are virtues, habits
are practices, and those which are neither habits nor dispositions are energies. And,
speaking generally, the following may be called mixed goods: happiness in one‘s
children, and a happy old age. But knowledge is a pure good. And some goods are
continually present, such as virtue; and some are not always present, as joy, or taking a
walk.
LIX. But every good is expedient, and necessary, and profitable, and useful, and
serviceable, and beautiful, and advantageous, and eligible, and just. Expedient. inasmuch
as it brings us things, which by their happening to us do us good; necessary, inasmuch as
it assists us in what we have need to be assisted; profitable, inasmuch as it repays all the
care that is expended on it, and makes a return with interest to our great advantage;
useful, inasmuch as it supplies us with what is of utility; serviceable, because it does us
service which is much praised; beautiful, because it is in accurate proportion to the need
we have of it, and to the service it does. Advantageous, inasmuch as it is of such a
character as to confer advantage on us; eligible, because it is such, that we may rationally
choose it; and just, because it is in accordance with law, and is an efficient cause of
union.

And they call the honourable the perfect good, because it [296>] has naturally all the
numbers which are required by nature, and because it discloses a perfect harmony. Now,
the species of this perfect good are four in number: justice, manly courage, temperance,
and knowledge; for in these goods all beautiful actions have their accomplishment. And
analogously, there are also four species of the disgraceful: injustice, and cowardice, and
intemperance, and folly. And the honourable is predicated in one sense, as making these
who are possessed of it worthy of all praise; and in a second sense, it is used of what is
well adapted by nature for its proper work; and in another sense, when it expresses that
which adorns a man, as when we say that the wise man alone is good and honourable.

The Stoics also say, that the beautiful is the only good, as Hecaton says, in the third book
of his treatise on Goods, and Chrysippus asserts the same principle in his essays on the
Beautiful. And they say that this is virtue, and that which partakes of virtue; and this
assertion is equal to the other, that everything good is beautiful, and that the good is an
equivalent term to the beautiful, inasmuch as the one thing is exactly equal to the other.
For since it is good, it is beautiful; and it is beautiful, therefore, it is good.

LX. But it seems that all goods are equal, and that every good is to be desired in the
highest degree, and that it admits of no relaxation, and of no extension. Moreover, they
divide all existing things into good, bad, and indifferent. The good are the virtues,
prudence, justice, manly courage, temperance, and the rest of the like qualities. The bad
are the contraries, folly, injustice, and the like. Those are indifferent which are neither
beneficial nor injurious, such as life, health, pleasure, beauty, strength, riches, a good
reputation, nobility of birth; and their contraries, death, disease, labour, disgrace,
weakness, poverty, a bad reputation, baseness of birth, and the like; as Hecaton lays it
down in the seventh book of his treatise on the Chief Good; and he is followed by
Apollodorus, in his Ethics, and by Chrysippus. For they affirm that those things are not
good but indifferent, though perhaps a little more near to one species than to the other.

For, as it is the property of the hot to warm and not to chill one, so it is the property of the
good to benefit and not to injure one. Now, wealth and good health cannot be said to
benefit any more than to injure any one: therefore, neither [297>] wealth nor good health
are goods. Again, they say that that thing is not good which it is possible to use both well
and ill. But it is possible to make either a good or a bad use of wealth, or of health;
therefore, wealth and good health are not goods. Posidonius, however, affirms that these
things do come under the head of goods. But Hecaton, in the nineteenth book of his
treatise on Goods, and Chrysippus, in his treatises on Pleasure, both deny that pleasure is
a good. For they say that there are disgraceful pleasures, and that nothing disgraceful is
good. And that to benefit a person is to move him or to keep him according to virtue, but
to injure him is to move him or to keep him according to vice.

They also assert, that things indifferent are so spoken of in a twofold manner; firstly,
those things are called so, which have no influence in producing either happiness or
unhappiness; such for instance, as riches, glory, health, strength, and the like; for it is
possible for a man to be happy without any of these things; and also, it is upon the
character of the use that is made of them, that happiness or unhappiness depends. In
another sense, those things are called indifferent, which do not excite any inclination or
aversion, as for instance, the fact of a man‘s having an odd or an even number of hairs on
his head, or his putting out or drawing back his finger; for it is not in this sense that the
things previously mentioned are called indifferent, for they do excite inclination or
aversion. On which account some of them are chosen, though there is equal reason for
preferring or shunning all the others.

LXI. Again, of things indifferent, they call some preferred (proêgmena), and others
rejected (apoproêgmena). Those are preferred, which have some proper value (axian),
and those are rejected, which have no value at all (apaxian echonta). And by the term
proper value, they mean that quality of things, which causes them to concur in producing
a well-regulated life; and in this sense, every good has a proper value. Again, they say
that a thing has value, when in some point of view, it has a sort of intermediate power of
aiding us to live conformably to nature; and under this class, we may range riches or
good health, if they give any assistance to natural life. Again, value is predicated of the
price which one gives for the attainment of an object, which some one, [298>] who has
experience of the object sought, fixes as its fair price; as if we were to say, for instance,
that as some wheat was to be exchanged for barley, with a mule thrown in to make up the
difference. Those goods then are preferred, which have a value, as in the case of the
mental goods, ability, skill, improvement, and the like; and in the case of the corporeal
goods, life, health, strength, a good constitution, soundness, beauty; and in the case of
external goods, riches, glory, nobility of birth, and the like.

Rejected things are, in the case of qualities of the mind, stupidity, unskilfulness, and the
like; in the case of circumstances affecting the body, death, disease, weakness, a bad
constitution, mutilation, disgrace, and the like; in the case of external circumstances,
poverty, want of reputation, ignoble birth, and the like. But those qualities and
circumstances which are indifferent, are neither preferred nor rejected. Again, of things
preferred, some are preferred for their own sakes, some for the sake of other things, and
some partly for their own sakes and partly for that of other things. Those which are
preferred for their own sakes, are ability, improvement, and the like; those which are
preferred for the sake of other things, are wealth, nobility of birth, and the like; those
which are preferred partly for their own sake, and partly for that of something else, are
strength, vigour of the senses, universal soundness, and the like; or they are preferred, for
their own sakes, inasmuch as they are in accordance with nature; and for the sake of
something else, inasmuch as they are productive of no small number of advantages; and
the same is the case in the inverse ratio, with those things which are rejected.

LXII. Again, they say that that is duty, which is preferred, and which contains in itself
reasonable arguments why we should prefer it; as for instance, its corresponding to the
nature of life itself; and this argument extends to plants and animals, for even their nature
is subject to the obligation of certain duties. And duty (to kathêkon) had this name given
to it by Zeno, in the first instance, its appellation being derived from its coming to, or
according to some people, apo tou kata tinas hêkein; and its effect is something kindred
to the preparations made by nature. Now of the things done according to inclination,
some are duties, and some are contrary to duty; and some are neither duties nor contrary
to duty, [299>] These are duties, which reason selects to do, as for instance, to honour
one‘s parents, one‘s brothers, one‘s country, to gratify one‘s friends. These actions are
contrary to duty, which reason does not choose; as for instance, to neglect one’s parents,
to be indifferent to one‘s brothers, to shirk assisting one‘s friends, to be careless about the
welfare of one‘s country, and se on. Those are neither duties, nor contrary to duty, which
reason neither selects to do, nor, on the other hand, repudiates, such actions, for instance,
as to pick up straw, to hold a pen, or a comb, or things of that sort.

Again, there are some duties which do not depend on circumstances, and some which do.
These do not depend on circumstances, to take care of one‘s health, and of the sound state
of one‘s senses, and the like. Those which do depend on circumstances, are the mutilation
of one‘s members, the sacrificing of one‘s property, and so on. And the case of these
actions which are contrary to duty, is similar. Again, of duties, some are always such, and
some are not always. What is always a duty, is to live in accordance with virtue; but to
ask questions, to give answers, to walk, and the like, are not always duties. And the same
statement holds good with respect to acts contrary to duty.

There is also a class of intermediate duties, such as the duty of boys obeying their
masters.

LXIII, The Stoics also say that the mind is divisible into eight parts; for that the five
organs of sensation, and the vocal power, and the intellectual power, which is the mind
itself, and the generative power, are all parts of the mind. But by error, there is produced
a perversion which operates on the intellect, from which many perturbations arise, and
many causes of inconstancy. And all perturbation is itself, according to Zeno, a
movement of the mind, or superfluous inclination, which is irrational, and contrary to
nature. Moreover, of the superior class of perturbations, as Hecaton says, in the second
book of his treatise on the Passions, and as Zeno also says in his work on the Passions,
there are four kinds, grief, fear, desire, and pleasure. And they consider that these
perturbations are judgments, as Chrysippus contends in his work on the Passions; for
covetousness is an opinion that money is a beautiful object, and in like manner
drunkenness and intemperance, and other things of the sort, are judg- [300>] ments. And
grief they define to be an irrational contraction of the mind, and it is divided into the
following species, pity, envy, emulation, jealousy, pain, perturbation, sorrow, anguish,
confusion. Pity is a grief over some one, on the ground of his being in undeserved
distress. Envy is a grief, at the good fortune of another. Emulation is a grief at that
belonging to some one else, which one desires one‘s self. Jealousy is a grief at another
also having what one has one‘s self. Pain is a grief which weighs one down. Perturbation
is grief which narrows one, and causes one to feel in a strait. Sorrow is a grief arising
from deliberate thought, which endures for some time, and gradually increases. Anguish
is a grief with acute pain. Confusion is an irrational grief, which frets one, and prevents
one from clearly discerning present circumstances. But fear is the expectation of evil; and
the following feelings are all classed under the head of fear: apprehension, hesitation,
shame, perplexity, trepidation, and anxiety. Apprehension is a fear which produces alarm.
Shame is a fear of discredit. Hesitation is a fear of coming activity. Perplexity is a fear,
from the imagination of some unusual thing. Trepidation is a fear accompanied with an
oppression of the voice. Anxiety is a fear of some uncertain event.

Again, desire is an irrational appetite; to which head, the following feelings are referable:
want, hatred, contentiousness, anger, love, enmity, rage. Want is a desire arising from our
not having something or other, and is, as it were, separated from the thing. but is still
stretching, and attracted towards it in vain. And hatred is a desire that it should be ill with
some one, accompanied with a certain continual increase and extension. Contentiousness
is a certain desire accompanied I with deliberate choice. Anger is a desire of revenge, on
a person who appears to have injured one in an unbecoming way. Love is a desire not
conversant about a virtuous object, for it is an attempt to conciliate affection, because of
some beauty which is seen. Enmity is a certain anger of long duration, and full of hatred,
and it is a watchful passion, as is shown in the following lines: —

For though we deem the short-liv‘d fury past,

‘Tie sure the mighty will revenge at last.
[Homer Illiad I 81.]

But rage is anger at its commencement.

Again, pleasure is an irrational elation of the mind over something which appears to be
desirable; and its different species are enjoyment, rejoicing at evil, delight, and
extravagant joy. Enjoyment now, is a pleasure which charms the mind through the ears.
Rejoicing at evil (epichairekakia), is a pleasure which arises at the misfortunes of others.
Delight (terpsis) that is to say turning (trepsis), is a certain turning of the soul (trotropê
tis psychês), to softness. Extravagant joy is the dissolution of virtue. And as there are said
to he some sicknesses (arrhôstêmata) in the body, as, for instance, gout and arthritic
disorders; so too are those diseases of the soul, such as a fondness for glory, or for
pleasure, and other feelings of that sort. For an arrhôstêma is a disease accompanied with
weakness; and a disease is an opinion of something which appears exceedingly desirable.
And, as in the case of the body, there are illnesses to which people are especially liable,
such as colds or diarrhea; so also are there propensities which the mind is under the
influence of, such as enviousness, pitifulness, quarrelsomeness, and so on.
There are also three good dispositions of the mind; joy, caution, and will. And joy they
say is the opposite of pleasure, since it is a rational elation of the mind; so caution is the
opposite of fear, being a rational avoidance of anything, for the wise man will never be
afraid, but he will act with caution; and will, they define as the opposite of desire, since it
is a rational wish. As therefore some things fall under the class of the first perturbations,
in the same manner do some things fall under the class of the first good dispositions. And
accordingly, under the head of will, are classed goodwill, placidity, salutation, affection;
and under the head of caution are ranged reverence and modesty; under the head of joy,
we speak of delight, mirth, and good spirits.

LXIV. They say also, that the wise man is free from perturbations, because he has no
strong propensities. But that this freedom from propensities also exists in the bad man,
being, however, then quite another thing, inasmuch as it proceeds in him only from the
hardness and unimpressibility of his nature. They also pronounce the wise man free from
vanity, since he regards with equal eye what is glorious and what is inglorious. At the
same time, they admit that there [302>] is another character devoid of vanity, who,
however, is only reckoned one of the rash men, being in fact the bad man. They also say
that all the virtuous men are austere, because they do never speak with reference to
pleasure, nor do they I listen to what is said by others with reference to pleasure. At the
same time, they call another man austere too, using the term in nearly the same sense as
they do when they speak of austere wine, which is used in compounding medicines, but
not for drinking.

They also pronounce the wise to be honest-hearted men, anxiously attending to those
matters which may make them better, by means of some principle which conceals what is
bad, and brings to light what is good. Nor is there any hypocrisy about them; for they cut
off all pretence in their voice and appearance. They also keep aloof from business; for
they guard carefully against doing any thing contrary to their duty. They drink wine, but
they do not get drunk; and they never yield to frenzy. Occasionally, extraordinary
imaginations may obtain a momentary power over them, owing to some melancholy or
trifling, arising not according to the principle of what is desirable, but contrary to nature.
Nor, again, will the wise man feel grief; because grief is an irrational contraction of the
soul, as Apollodorus defines it in his Ethics.

They are also, as they say, godlike; for they have something in them which is as it were a
God. But the bad man is an atheist. Now there are two kinds of atheists; one who speaks
in a spirit of hostility to, and the other, who utterly disregards, the divine nature; but they
admit that all bad men are not atheists in this last sense. The good, on the contrary, are
pious; for they have a thorough acquaintance with the laws respecting the Gods. And
piety is a knowledge of the proper reverence and worship due to the Gods. Moreover they
sacrifice to the Gods, and keep themselves pure; for they avoid all offences having
reference to the Gods, and the Gods admire them; for they are holy and just in all that
concerns the Deity; and the wise men are the only priests; for they consider the matters
relating to sacrifices, and the erection of temples, and purifications, and all other things
which peculiarly concern the Gods. They also pronounce that men are bound to honour
their parents, and their brethren, in the second place after the Gods. [303>] They also say
that parental affection for one‘s children is natural to them, and is a feeling which does
not exist in bad men. And they lay down the position that all offences are equal, as
Chrysippus argues in the fourth book of his Ethic Questions, and so say Persaeus and
Zeno. For if one thing that is true is not more true than another thing that is true, neither
is one thing that is false more false than another thing that is false; so too, one deceit is
not greater than another, nor one sin than another. For the man who is a hundred furlongs
from Canopus, and the man who is only one, are both equally not in Canopus; and so too,
he who commits a greater sin, and he who commits a less, are both equally not in the
right path.

Heraclides of Tarsus, indeed, the friend of Antipater, of Tarsus, and Athenodorus, both
assert that offences are not equal.

Again, the Stoics, as for instance, Chrysippus, in the first book of his work on Lives, say,
that the wise man will take a part in the affairs of the state, if nothing hinders him. For
that he will restrain vice, and excite men to virtue. Also, they say that he will marry, as
Zeno says in his Republic, and beget children. Moreover, that the wise man will never
form mere opinions, that is to say, he will never agree to anything that is false; and that
he will become a Cynic; for that Cynicism is a short path to virtue, as Apollodorus calls it
in his Ethics; that he will even eat human flesh, if there should be occasion; that he is the
only free man, and that the bad are slaves; for that freedom is a power of independent
action, but slavery a deprivation of the same. That there is besides, another slavery, which
consists in subjection, and a third which consists in possession and subjection; the
contrary of which is masterhood, which is likewise bad.

And they say, that not only are the wise free, but that they are also kings, since kingly
power is an irresponsible dominion, which can only exist in the case of the wise man, as
Chrysippus says in his treatise on the Proper Application of his Terms made by Zeno; for
he says that a ruler ought to give decisions on good and evil, and that none of the wicked
understand these things. In the same way, they assert that they are the only people who
are fit to be magistrates or judges, or orators, and that none of the bad are qualified for
these tasks. Moreover, that they are free from all error, in [303>] consequence of their not
being prone to any wrong actions. Also, that they are unconnected with injury, for that
they never injure any one else, nor themselves. Also, that they are not pitiful, and that
they never make allowance for any one; for that they do not relax the punishments
appointed by law, since yielding, and pity, and mercifulness itself, never exist in any of
their souls, so as to induce an affectation of kindness in respect of punishment; nor do
they ever think any punishment too severe. Again, they say that the wise man never
wonders at any of the things which appear extraordinary; as for instance, at the stories
about Charon, or the ebbing of the tide, or the springs of hot water, or the bursting forth
of flames. But, say they further, the wise man will not live in solitude; for he is by nature
sociable and practical. Accordingly, he will take exercise for the sake of hardening and
invigorating his body. And the wise man will pray, asking good things from the Gods, as
Posidonius says in the first book of his treatise on Duties, and Hecaton says the same
thing in the thirteenth book of his treatise on Extra-ordinary Things.
They also say, that friendship exists in the virtuous alone, on account of their
resemblance to one another. And they describe friendship itself as a certain communion
of the things which concern life, since we use our friends as ourselves. And they assert
that a friend is desirable for his own sake, and that a number of friends is a good; and that
among the wicked there is no such thing as friendship, and that no wicked man can have
a friend.

Again, they say that all the foolish are mad; for that they are not prudent, and that
madness is equivalent to folly in every one of its actions; but that the wise man does
everything properly, just as we say that Ismenias can play every piece of flute-music
well. Also, they say that everything belongs to the wise man, for that the law has given
them perfect and universal power; but some things also are said to belong to the wicked,
just in the same manner as some things are said to belong to the unjust, or as a house is
said to belong. to a city in a different sense from that in which a thing belongs to the
person who uses it.

LXV. And they say that virtues reciprocally follow one another, and that he who has one
has all; for that the precepts [305>] of them all are common, as Chrysippus affirms in the
first book of his treatise on Laws; and Apollodorus, in his Natural Philosophy, according
to the ancient system; and Hecaton, in the third book of his treatise on Virtues. For they
say that the man who is endued [viz., endowed] with virtue, is able to consider and also to
do what must be done. But what must be done must be chosen, and encountered, and
distributed, and awaited; so that if the man does some things by deliberate choice, and
some in a spirit of endurance, and some distributively, and some patiently; he is prudent,
and courageous, and just, and temperate. And each of the virtues has a particular subject
of its own, about which it is conversant; as, for instance, courage is conversant about the
things which must be endured; prudence is conversant about what must be done and what
must not, and what is of a neutral or indifferent character. And in like manner, the other
virtues are conversant about their own peculiar subjects; and wisdom in counsel and
shrewdness follow prudence; and good order and decorum follow temperance; and
equality and goodness of judgment follow justice; and constancy and energy follow
courage.

Another doctrine of the Stoics is, that there is nothing intermediate between virtue and
vice; while the Peripatetics assert that there is a stage between virtue and vice, being an
improvement on vice which has not yet arrived at virtue. For the Stoics say, that as a stick
must be either straight or crooked, so a man must be either just or unjust, and cannot be
more just than just, or more unjust than unjust; and that the same rule applies to all cases.
Moreover, Chrysippus is of opinion that virtue can be lost, but Cleanthes affirms that it
cannot; the one saying that it can be lost by drunkenness or melancholy, the other
maintaining that it cannot be lost on account of the thin perceptions which it implants in
men. They also pronounce it a proper object of choice; accordingly, we are ashamed of
actions which we do improperly, while we are aware that what is honourable is the only
good. Again, they affirm that it is of itself sufficient for happiness, as Zeno says, and he
is followed in this assertion by Chrysippus in the first book of his treatise on Virtues, and
by Hecaton in the second book of his treatise on Goods.
For if, says he, "magnanimity be sufficient of itself to enable us to act in a manner
superior to all other men; and [306>] if that is a part of virtue, then virtue is of itself
sufficient for happiness, despising all things which seem troublesome to it." However,
Panaetius and Posidonius do not admit that virtue has this sufficiency of itself, but say
that there is also need of good health, and competency, and strength. And their opinion is
that a man exercises virtue in everything, as Cleanthes asserts, for it cannot be lost; and
the virtuous man on every occasion exercises his soul, which is in a state of perfection.

LXVI. Again, they say that justice exists by nature, and not because of any definition or
principle; just as law does, or right reason, as Chrysippus tells us in his treatise on the
Beautiful; and they think that one ought not to abandon philosophy on account of the
different opinions prevailing among philosophers, since on this principle one would
wholly quit life, as Posidonius argues in his Exhortatory Essays. Another doctrine of
Chrysippus is, that general learning is very useful.

And the School in general maintain that there are no obligations of justice binding on us
with reference to other animals, on account of their dissimilarity to us, as Chrysippus
asserts in the first book of his treatise on Justice, and the same opinion is maintained by
Posidonius in the first book of his treatise on Duty. They say too, that the wise man will
love those young men, who by their outward appearance, show a natural aptitude for
virtue; and this opinion is advanced by Zeno, in his Republic, and by Chrysippus in the
first book of his work on Lives, and by Apollodorus in his Ethics. And they describe love
as an endeavour to benefit a friend on account of his visible beauty; and that it is an
attribute not of acquaintanceship, but of friendship. Accordingly, that Thrasmides,
although he had his mistress in his power, abstained from her, because he was hated by
her. Love, therefore, according to them is a part of friendship, as Chrysippus asserts in his
essay on Love; and it is not blameable. Moreover, beauty is the flower of virtue.

And as there are three kinds of lives; the theoretical, the practical, and the logical; they
say that the last is the one which ought to be chosen. For that a logical, that is a rational,
animal was made by nature on purpose for speculation and action. And they say that a
wise man will very rationally take himself out of life, either for the sake of his country or
of [307>] his friends, or if he be in bitter pain, or under the affliction of mutilation, or
incurable disease. And they also teach that women ought to be in common among the
wise, so that whoever meets with any one may enjoy her, and this doctrine is maintained
by Zeno in his Republic, and by Chrysippus in his treatise on Polity, and by Diogenes the
Cynic, and by Plato; and then, say they, we shall love all boys equally after the manner of
fathers, and all suspicion on the ground of undue familiarity will be removed.

They affirm too, that the best of political constitutions is a mixed one, combined of
democracy, and kingly power, and aristocracy. And they say many things of this sort, and
more too, in their Ethical Dogmas, and they maintain them by suitable explanations and
arguments. But this may be enough for us to say of their doctrines on this head by way of
summary, and taking them in an elementary manner.
LXVII. They divide natural philosophy into the topics of bodies, and of principles, and of
elements, and of Gods, and of boundaries, and of place, and of the vacuum. And they
make these divisions according to species; but according to genera they divide them into
three topics, that of the world, that of the elements, and the third is that which reasons on
causes. The topic about the world, they say, is subdivided into two parts. For that in one
point of view, the mathematicians also have a share in it; and according to it it is that they
prosecute their investigations into the nature of the fixed stars and the planets; as, for
instance, whether the sun is of such a size as he appears to be, and similarly, whether the
moon is; and in the same way they investigate the question of spherical motion, and
others of the same character. The other point of view is that which is reserved exclusively
for natural philosophers, according to which it is that the existence and substance of
things are examined, [for instance, whether the sun and the stars consist of matter and
form,] and whether the sun is born or not born, whether it is living or lifeless, corruptible
or incorruptible, whether it is regulated by Providence, and other questions of this kind.

The topic which examines into causes they say is also divisible into two parts; and with
reference to one of its considerations, the investigations of physicians partake of it;
according to which it is that they investigate the dominant [308>] principle of the soul,
and the things which exist in the soul, and seeds, and things of this kind. And its other
division is claimed as belonging to them also by the mathematicians, as, for instance,
how we see, what is the cause of our appearance being reflected in a mirror, how clouds
are collected, how thunder is produced, and the rainbow, and the halo, and comets, and
things of that kind.

LXVIII. They think that there are two general principles in the universe, the active and
the passive That the passive is matter, an existence without any distinctive quality. That
the active is the reason which exists in the passive, that is to say, God. For that he, being
eternal, and existing through out all matter, makes everything. And Zeno, the Cittiaean,
lays down this doctrine in his treatise on Essence, and so does Cleanthes in his essay on
Atoms, Chrysippus in the first book of his Investigations in Natural Philosophy, towards
the end, Archedemus in his work on Elements, and Posidonius in the second book of his
treatise on Natural Philosophy. But they say that principles and elements differ from one
another. For that the one had no generation or beginning, and will have no end; but that
the elements maybe destroyed by the operation of fire. Also, that the elements are bodies,
but principles have no bodies and no forms, and elements too have forms.

Now a body, says Apollodorus in his Natural Philosophy, is extended in a threefold

manner; in length, in breadth, in depth; and then it is called a solid body; and the
superficies is the limit of the body having length and breadth alone, but not depth. But
Posidonius, in the third book of his Heavenly Phaenomena, will not allow a superficies
either any substantial reality, or any intelligible existence. A line is the limit of a
superficies, or length without breadth, or something which has nothing hut length. A
point is the boundary of a line, and is the smallest of all symbols.

They also teach that God is unity, and that he is called Mind, and Fate, and Jupiter, and
by many other names besides. And that, as he was in the beginning by himself, he turned
into water the whole substance which pervaded the air, and as the seed is contained in the
produce, so too, he being the seminal principle of the world, remained behind moisture,
making matter fit to be employed by himself in the production of those things which were
to come after; and [309>] then, first of all, he made the four elements, fire, water, air, and
earth. And Zeno speaks of these in his treatise on the Universe, and so does Chrysippus in
the first book of his Physics, and so does Archedemus in some treatise on the Elements.

LXIX. Now an element is that out of which at first all things which are are produced, and
into which all things are resolved at last. And the four elements are all equally an essence
without any distinctive quality, namely, matter; but fire is the hot, water the moist, air the
cold, and earth the dry — though this last quality is also common to the air. The fire is
the highest, and that is called aether, in which first of all the sphere was generated in
which the fixed stars are set, then that in which the planets revolve; after that the air, then
the, water; and the sediment as it were of all is the earth, which is placed in the centre of
the rest.

LXX. They also speak of the world in a threefold sense; at one time meaning God
himself, whom they call a being of a certain quality, having for his peculiar manifestation
universal substance, a being imperishable, and who never had any generation, being the
maker of the arrangement and order that we see; and who, after certain periods of time,
absorbs all substance in himself, and then re-produces it from himself. And this
arrangement of the stars they call the world, and so the third sense is one composed of
both the preceding ones. And the world is a thing which is peculiarly of such and such a
quality consisting of universal substance, as Posidonius affirms in his Meteorological
Elements, being a system compounded of heaven and earth, and all the creatures which
exist in them; or it may be called a system compounded of Gods and men, and of the
things created on their account. And the heaven is the most remote circumference of the
world, in which all the Divine Nature is situated.

Again, the world is inhabited and regulated according to intellect and providence, as
Chrysippus says, in his works on Providence, and Posidonius in the thirteenth book of his
treatise on Gods, since mind penetrates into every part of the world, just as the soul
pervades us; but it is in a greater degree in some parts, and in a less degree in others. For
instance, it penetrates as a habit, as, for instance, into the bones and sinews; and into
some it penetrates as the mind [310>] does, for instance, into the dominant principle. And
thus the whole world, being a living thing, endowed with a soul and with reason, has the
aether as its dominant principle, as Antipater, of Tyre, says in the eighth book of his
treatise on the World. But Chrysippus, in the first book of his essay On. Providence, and
Posidonius in his treatise on Gods, say that the heaven is the dominant principle of the
world; and Cleanthes attributes this to the sun. Chrysippus, however, on this point
contradicts himself; for he says in another place, that the most subtle portion of the
aether, which is also called by the Stoics the first God, is what is infused in a sensible
manner into all the beings which are in the air, and through every animal and every plant,
and through the earth itself according to a certain habit; and that it is this which
communicates to them the faculty of feeling.
They say too, that the world is one and also finite, having a spherical form. For that such
a shape is the most convenient for motion, as Posidonius says, in the fifteenth book of his
Discussions on Natural Philosophy, and so says Antipater also in his essay on the World.
And on the outside there is diffused around it a boundless vacuum, which is incorporeal
And it is incorporeal inasmuch, as it is capable of being contained by bodies, but is not
so. And that there is no such thing as a vacuum in the world, but that it is all closely
united and compact; for that this condition is necessarily brought about by the concord
and harmony which exist between the heavenly bodies and those of the earth. And
Chrysippus mentions a vacuum in his essay on a Vacuum, and also in the first book of his
treatise on the Physical Arts, and so does Apollophanes in his Natural Philosophy, and so
does Apollodorus, and so does Posidonius in the second book of his discourses on
Natural Philosophy. And they say that these things are all incorporeal, and all alike.
Moreover, that time is incorporeal, since it is an interval of the motion of the world. And
that of time, the past and the future are both illimitable, but the present is limited. And
they assert that the world is perishable, inasmuch as it was produced by reason, and is one
of the things which are perceptible by the senses; and whatever has its parts perishable,
must also be perishable in the whole. And the parts of the world are perishable, for they
change into one another. Therefore, the whole, world is [311>] perishable. And again, if
anything admits of a change for the worse it is perishable; therefore, the world is
perishable, for it can he dried up, and it can be covered with water.

Now the world was created when its substance was changed from fire to moisture, by the
action of the air; and then its denser parts coagulated, and so the earth was made, and the
thinner portions were evaporated and became air; and this being rarefied more and more,
produced fire. And then, by the combination of all these elements, were produced plants
and animals, and other kinds of things. Now Zeno speaks of the creation, and of the
destruction of the world, in his treatise on the Universe, and so does Cleanthes, and so
does Antipater, in the tenth book of his treatise on the World. But Panaetius asserts that
the world is imperishable.

Again, that the world is an animal, and that it is endued with reason, and life, and
intellect, is affirmed by Chrysippus, in the first volume of his treatise on Providence, and
by Apollodorus in his Natural Philosophy, and by Posidonius; and that it is an animal in
this sense, as being an essence endued [viz., endowed] with life, and with sensation. For
that which is an animal, is better than that which is not an animal. But nothing is better
than the world; therefore the world is an animal. And it is endued with life, as is plain
from the fact of our own soul being as it were a fragment broken off from it. But Boethus
denies that the world is an animal.

Again, that the world is one, is affirmed by Zeno, in his treatise on the Universe, and by
Chrysippus, and by Apollodorus, in his Natural Philosophy, and by Posidonius, in the
first book of his Discourses on Natural Philosophy. And by the term, the universe,
according to Apollodorus, is understood both the world itself, and also the whole of the
world itself, and of the exterior vacuum taken together. The world, then, is finite, and the
vacuum infinite.
LXXI. Of the stars, those which are fixed are only moved in connection with the
movements of the entire heaven; but the planets move according to their own peculiar
and separate motions. And the sun takes an oblique path through the circle of the zodiac,
and in the same manner also does the moon, which is of a winding form. And the sun is
pure fire, as Posidonius asserts in the seventh book of his treatise on the Heavenly
Bodies, and it is larger than the earth, as the [312>] same author informs us, in the
sixteenth book of his Disclosures on Natural Philosophy. Also it is spherical, as he says
in another place, being made on the same principle as the world is. Therefore it is fire,
because it performs all the functions of fire. And it is larger than the earth, as is proved by
the fact of the whole earth being illuminated by it, and also the whole heaven. Also the
fact of the earth throwing a conical shadow, proves that the sun is greater than it, and the
sun is seen in every part, because of its magnitude. But the moon is of a more earthy
nature than the sun, inasmuch as it is nearer the earth.

Moreover, they say that all these fiery bodies, and all the other stars, receive nutriment;
the sun from the vast sea, being a sort of intellectual appendage; and the moon from the
fresh waters, being mingled with the air, and also near the earth, as Posidonius explains it
in the sixth book of his Discourses on Natural Philosophy. And all the other stars derive
their nourishment from the earth. They also consider that the stars are of a spherical
figure, and that the earth is immovable. And that the moon has not a light of her own, but
that she borrows it from the sun. And that the sun is eclipsed, when the moon runs in
front of it on the side towards us, as Zeno describes in his work on the Universe; for
when it comes across it in its passage, it conceals it, and again it reveals it; and this is a
phenomenon easily seen in a basin of water. And the moon is eclipsed when it comes
below the shadow of the earth, on which account this never happens, except at the time of
the full moon; and although it is diametrically opposite to the sun every month, still it is
not eclipsed every month, because when its motions are obliquely towards the sun, it does
not find itself in the same place as the sun, being either a little more to the north, or a
little more to the south. When therefore it is found in the same place with the sun, and
with the other intermediate objects, then it takes as it were the diameter of the sun, and is
eclipsed. And its place is along the line which runs between the crab and the scorpion,
and the ram and the bull, as Posidonius tells us.

LXXII. They also say that God is an animal immortal, rational, perfect, and intellectual in
his happiness, unsusceptible of any kind of evil, having a foreknowledge of the world
[313>] and of all that is in the world; however, that he has not the figure of a man; and
that he is the creator of the universe, and as it were, the Father of all things in common,
and that a portion of him pervades everything, which is called by different names,
according to its powers; for they call him Dia as being the person (di hon) everything is,
and Zêna, inasmuch as he is the cause of life, (tou Zêin), or because he pervades life. And
Athêna, with reference to the extension of his dominant power over the aether (eis
aithera). And Hêra, on account of his extension through the air (eis aera). And
Hêphaistos, on account of his pervading fire, which is the chief instrument of art; and
Poseidôn, as pervading moisture, and Dêmêtêr, as pervading the earth (Gê). And in the
same way, regarding some other of his peculiar attributes, they have given him other
names.
The substance of God is asserted by Zeno to be the universal world, and the heaven; and
Chrysippus agrees with this doctrine, in his eleventh book on the Gods; and so also does
Posidonius, in the first book of his treatise on the same subject. Antipater, in the seventh
book of his treatise on the World, says that his substance is aërial. And Boethus, in his
treatise on Nature, calls the substance of God the sphere of the fixed stars.

LXXIII. And his nature they define to be, that which keeps the world together, and
sometimes that which produces the things upon the earth. And nature is a habit which
derives its movements from itself, perfecting and holding together all that arises out of it,
according to the principles of production, in certain definite periods, and doing the same
as the things from which it is separated. And it has for its object, suitableness and
pleasure, as is plain from its having created man.

LXXIV. But Chrysippus, in his treatise on Fate, and Posidonius, in the second book of
his work on Fate, and Zeno, and Boethus, in the eleventh book of his treatise on Fate, say,
that all things are produced by fate. And fate, [314>] (eimarmenê), is a connected
(eiromenê) cause of existing things, or the reason according to which the svorld is
regulated.

LXXV. They also say that divination has a universal existence, since Providence has; and
they define it as an act on account of certain results, as Zeno and Chrysippus, in the
second book of his treatise on Divination, and Athenodorus and Posidonius, in the twelfth
book of his discourses on Natural Philosophy, and in the fifth book of his treatise on
Divination, all agree in saying; for Panaetius denies that it has any certain foundation.

LXXVI. And they say that the substance of all existing things is Primary Matter, as
Chrysippus asserts in the first book of his Physics; and Zeno says the same. Now matter
is that from which anything whatever is produced. And it is called by a twofold
appellation, essence and matter; the one as relating to all things taken together, and the
other to things in particular and separate. The one which relates to all things taken
together, never becomes either greater or less; but the one relating to things in particular,
does become greater or less, as the case may be.

LXXVII. Body is, according to them, a substance and finite; as Antipater says, in the
second book of his treatise on Substance; and Apollodorus, in his Natural Philosophy,
agrees with him. It is also subject to change, as we learn from the same author; for if it
were immutable, then the things which have been produced out of it would not have been
produced; on which account he also says that it is infinitely divisible; but Chrysippus
denies that it is infinite; for that nothing is infinite, which is divisible at all.

LXXVIII. He admits, however, that it is infinitely divisible, and that its concretions take
place over the whole of it, as he explains in the third book of his Physics, and not
according to any circumference or juxtaposition; for a little wine when thrown into the
sea, will keep its distinctness for a brief period, but after that, will be lost.
LXXIX. They also say that there are some Daemones, who have a sympathy with
mankind, being surveyors of all human affairs; and that there are heroes, which are the
souls of virtuous men, which have left their bodies.

LXXX, Of the things which take place in the air, they say that winter is the effect of the
air above the earth being [315>] cooled, on account of the retirement of the sun to a
greater distance than before; that spring is a good temperature of the air, according to the
sun’s approach towards us; that summer is the effect of the air above the earth being
warmed by the approach of the sun towards the north; that autumn is caused by the retreat
of the sun from us to those places from which they flow. [There is a hiatus in the text
here. Casaubon supplies the meaning by a reference to Plutarch’s Treatise on the opinions
of the Philosophers, iii. 7, "that the winds are a flowing of the air, and that they have
various names with reference to the countries from which they flow"]

LXXXI. And the cause of the production of the winds is the sun, which evaporates the
clouds. Moreover, the rainbow is the reflexion of the sun‘s rays from the moist clouds, or,
as Posidonius explains it in his Meteorology, a manifestation of a section of the sun or
moon, in a cloud suffused with dew; being hollow and continuous to the sight; so that it is
reflected as in a mirror, under the appearance of a circle. And that comets, and bearded
stars, and meteors, are fires which have an existence when the density of the air is borne
upwards to the regions of the aether.

That a ray of light is a kindling of sudden fire, borne through the air with great rapidity,
and displaying an appearance of length; that rain proceeds from the clouds, being a
transformation of them into water, whenever the moisture which is caught up from the
earth or from the sea, by the sun, is not able to be otherwise disposed of; for when it is
solidified, it is then called hoar frost. And hail is a cloud congealed, and subsequently
dispersed by the wind. Snow is moisture from a congealed cloud, as Posidonius tells us in
the eighth book of his discourse on Natural Philosophy. Lightning is a kindling of the
clouds from their being rubbed together, or else broken asunder by the wind, as Zeno tells
us in his treatise on the Universe; and thunder is the noise made by them on the occasion
of their being rubbed together or broken asunder; and the thunderbolt is a sudden kindling
which falls with great violence on the earth, from the clouds being rubbed together or
broken asunder, or, as others say, it is a conversion of fiery air violently brought down to
the earth. A typhon is a vast thunderbolt, violent and full of wind, or a smoky breath of a
cloud broken asunder. A prêstês is a cloud [316>] rent by fire, with wind, . . . [Something
is evidently wanting here; probably some mention of an earthquake.] into the hollows of
the earth, or when the wind is pent up in the earth, as Posidonius says in his eighth book;
and that some of them are shakings, others rendings, others emissions of fire, and others,
instances of violent fermentation.

LXXXII. They also think that the general arrangement of the world is in this fashion; that
the earth is in the middle, occupying the place of the centre; next to which comes the
water, of a spherical form; and having the same centre as the earth; so that the earth is in
the water; and next to the water comes the air, which has also a spherical form.
LXXXIII. And that there are five circles in the heaven of which the first is the arctic
circle, which is always visible; the second is the tropical summer circle; the third is the
equinoctial circle; the fourth, the winter tropical circle; and the fifth the antarctic, which
is not visible. And they are called parallel, because they do not incline to one another;
they are drawn however around the same centre. But the zodiac is oblique, cutting the
parallel circles. There are also five zones on the earth; the first is the northern one, placed
under the arctic circle, uninhabitable by reason of the cold; the second is temperate; the
third is uninhabitable because of the heat, and is called the torrid zone; the fourth is a
temperate zone, on the other side of the torrid zone; the fifth is the southern zone, being
also uninhabitable by reason of the cold.

LXXXIV. Another of their doctrines is that nature is an artificial fire tending by a regular
road to production, which is a fiery kind of breath proceeding according to art. Also, that
the soul is sensible, and that it is a spirit which is born with us; consequently it is a body
and continues to exist after death; that nevertheless it is perishable. But that the soul of
the universe is imperishable, and that the souls which exist in animals are only parts of
that of the universe. But Zeno, the Cittiaean, and Antipater, in their treatise concerning
the [317>] Soul, and Posidonius also, all say that the soul is a spirit; for that by it we have
our breath, and by it we are moved. Cleanthes, accordingly, asserts that all souls continue
to exist till they are burnt up; but Chrysippus says that it is only the souls of the wise that
endure. And they further teach that there are eight parts of the soul; the five senses, and
the generative faculties, and voice, and reason. And we see because of a body of
luminous air which extends from the organ of sight to the object in a conical form, as it is
asserted by Chrysippus, in the second book of his Natural Philosophy, and also by
Apollodorus. And the apex of this cone is close to the eye, and its base is formed by the
object which is seen; so that that which is seen is as it were reported to the eye by this
continuous cone of air extended towards it like a staff. In the same way, we hear because
the air between the speaker and the hearer is struck in a spherical manner; and is then
agitated in waves, resembling the circular eddies which one sees in a cistern when a stone
is dropped into it.

Sleep, they say, is produced by a relaxation of the aesthetic energies with reference to the
dominant part of the soul. And the causes of the passions they explain to be the motions
and conversions which take place in connection with this spirit or soul.

LXXXV. Seed, they define as a thing of a nature capable of producing other things of the
same nature as the thing from which it has been separated. And the seed of man, which
man emits, is, together with moisture, mixed up with the parts of the soul by that kind of
mixture which corre- [318>] sponds to the capacity of the parents. And Chrysippus says,
in the second book of his Natural Philosophy, that it is a spirit according to substance; as
is manifest from the seeds which are planted in the earth; and which, if they are old, do
not germinate, because all their virtue has evaporated. And Sphaerus says, that seed
proceeds from the entire body, and that that is how it is that it produces all the parts of the
body.
They also say that the seed of the female is unproductive; for, as Sphaerus says, it is
devoid of tone, and small in quantity, and watery.

LXXXVI. They also say that that is the dominant part of the soul which is its most
excellent part; in which the imaginations and the desires are formed, and whence reason
proceeds. And this place is in the heart.

These then are the doctrines on the subject of natural philosophy entertained by them,
which it seems sufficient for us to detail, having regard to the due proportions of this
book. And the following are the points in which some of them disagreed with the rest.

LIFE OF ARISTON.

I. ARIST0N the Bald, a native of Chios, surnamed the Scion, said, that the chief good
was to live in perfect indifference to all those things which are of an intermediate
character between virtue and vice; making not the slightest difference between them, but
regarding them all on a footing of equality. For that the wise man resembles a good actor;
who, whether he is filling the part of Agamemnon or Thersites, will perform them both
equally well.

II. And he discarded altogether the topic of physics, and of logic, saying that the one was
above us, and that the other had nothing to do with us; and that the only branch of
philosophy with which we had any real concern was ethics.

III. He also said that dialectic reasonings were like [319>] cobwebs; which, although they
seem to be put together on principles of art, are utterly useless.

IV. And he did not introduce many virtues into his scheme, as Zeno did; nor one virtue
under a great many names, as the Megaric philosophers did; but defined virtue as
consisting in behaving in a certain manner with reference to a certain thing.

V. And as he philosophized in this manner, and carried on his discussions in the

Cynosarges, he got so much infiuence as to be called a founder of a sect. Accordingly,
Miltiades, and Diphilus were called Aristoneans.

VI. He was a man of very persuasive eloquence, and one who could adapt himself well to
the humours of a multitude. On which account Timon says of him —

And one who, from .Ariston‘s wily race,

Traced his descent.

Diocles, the Magnesian, tells us that Ariston having fallen in with Polemo, passed over to
his school, at a time when Zeno was lying ill with a long sickness. The Stoic doctrine to
which he was most attached, was the one that the wise man is never guided by opinions.
But Persaeus argued against this, and caused one of two twin brothers to place a deposit
in his hands, and then caused the other to reclaim it; and thus he convicted him, as he was
in doubt on this point, and therefore forced to act on opinion. He was a great enemy of
Arcesilaus. And once, seeing a bull of a monstrous conformation, having a womb, he
said, "Alas! here is an argument for Arcesilaus against the evidence of his senses." On
another Occasion, when a philosopher of the Academy said that he did not comprehend
anything, he said to him, "Do not you even see the man who is sitting next to you?" And
as he said that he did not, he said: —

Who then has blinded you, who‘s been so harsh,

As thus to rob you of your beaming eyes?

VII. The following works are attributed to him. Two books of Exhortatory Discourses;
Dialogues on the Doctrines of Zeno; six books of Conversations; seven books of
Discussions on Wisdom; Conversations on Love; Commentaries on Vain Glory; twenty-
five books of Reminiscences; three books of [320>] Memorabilia; eleven books of
Apophthegms; a volume against the Orators; a volume against the Rescripts of Alexinus;
three treatises against the Dialecticians; four books of Letters to Cleanthes. But Panaetius
and Sosicrates say, that his only genuine writings are his letters; and that all the rest are
the works of Ariston the Peripatetic.

VIII. It is said that he, being bald, got a stroke of the sun, and so died. And we have
written a jesting epigram on him in Scayon iambics, in the following terms:—

Why, O Ariston, being old and bald,

Did you allow the sun to roast your crown?
Thus, in an unbecoming search for warmth,
Against your will, you‘ve found out chilly Hell.

IX. There was also another man of the name of Ariston; a native of Julii, one of the
Peripatetic school. And another who was an Athenian musician. A fourth who was a
tragic poet. A fifth, a native of Aloea, who wrote a treatise on the Oratorical Art. A sixth
was a peripatetic Philosopher of Alexandria.

LIFE OF HERILLUS

I. HERILLUS, a native of Carthage, said that the chief good was knowledge; that is to
say, the always conducting one’s self in such a way as to refer everything to the principle
of living according to knowledge, and not been misled by ignorance. He also said that
knowledge was a habit not departing I from reason in the reception of perceptions.

On one occasion, he said that there was no such thing as a chief good, but that
circumstances and events changed it, just as the same piece of brass might become a
statue either of Alexander or of Socrates. And that besides the chief good or end (telos),
there was a subordinate end (hypotelis) different from it. And that those who were not
wise aimed at the [321>] latter; but that only the wise man directed his views to the
former. And all the things between virtue and vice he pronounced indifferent.

II. His books contain but few lines, but they are full of power, and contain arguments in
opposition to Zeno.

III. It is said, that when he was a boy, many people were attached to him; and as Zeno
wished to drive them away, he persuaded him to have his head shaved, which disgusted
them all.

IV. His books are these. One on Exercise; one on the Passions; one on Opinion; the
Lawgiver; the Skilful Midwife; the Contradictory Teacher; the Preparer; the Director; the
Mercury; the Medea; a book of Dialogues; a book of Ethical Propositions.

LIFE OF DIONYSIUS.

I. Dionysius, the Deserter, as he was called, asserted that pleasure was the chief good,
from the circumstance of his being afflicted with a complaint in his eyes. For, as he
suffered severely, he could not pronounce pain a thing indifferent.

II. He was the son of Theophantus, and a native of Heraclea.

III. He was a pupil, as we are told by Diocles, first of all of Heraclides, his fellow citizen;
after that of Alexinus, and Menedemus; and last of all of Zeno. And at first, as he was
very devoted to learning, he tried his hand at all kinds of poetry. Afterwards, he attached
himself to Aratus, whom he took for his model. Having left Zeno, he turned to the
Cyrenaics, and became a frequenter of brothels, and in other respects indulged in luxury
without disguise.

IV. When he had lived near eighty years, he died of Starvation.

V. The following books are attributed to him. Two books on Apathy; two on Exercise;
four on Pleasure; one on [321>] Riches, and Favours, and Revenge; one on the Use of
Men ; one on Good Fortune; one on Ancient Kings; one on Things which are Praised; one
on Barbarian Customs.

These now are the chief men who differed from the Stoics. But the man who succeeded
Zeno in his school was Cleanthes, whom we must now speak of.

LIFE OF CLEANTHES
I. CLEANTHES was a native of Assos, and the son of Phanias. He was originally a
boxer, as we learn from Antisthenes, in his Successions. And he came to Athens, having
but four drachmas, as some people say, and attaching himself to Zeno, he devoted
himself to Philosophy in a most noble manner; and he adhered to the same doctrines as
his master.

II. He was especially eminent for his industry, so that as he was a very poor man, he was
forced to undertake mercenary employrnents, and he used to draw water in the gardens
by night, and by day he used to exercise himself in philosophical discussions; on which
account he was called Phreantles [From phrear, a well, and antleô, to draw water.]. They
also say that he was on one occasion brought before a court of justice, to be compelled to
give an account what his sources of income were from which he maintained himself in
such good condition : and that then he was acquitted, having produced as his witness the
gardener in whose garden he drew the water; and a woman who was a meal-seller, in
whose establishment he used to prepare the meal. And the judges of the Areopagus
admired him, and voted that ten minae should be given to him; but Zeno forbade him to
accept them.

They also say that Antigonus presented him three thousand drachmas. And once, when he
was conducting some you men to some spectacle, it happened that the wind blew away
his cloak, and it was then seen that he had nothing on under it; on which he was greatly
applauded by the Athenians [323>] according to the account given by Demetrius, the
Magnesian, in his essay on People of the same Name. And he was greatly admired by
them on account of this circumstance.

They also say that Antigonus, who was a pupil of his, once asked him why he drew
water; and that he made answer, "Do I do nothing beyond drawing water? Do I not also
dig, and do I not water the land, and do all sorts of things for the sake of philosophy ? For
Zeno used to accustom him to this, and used to require him to bring him an obol by way
of tnbute.[The Greek used is apophora; which was a term especially applied to the
money which slaves let out to hire paid to their master.] And once he brought one of the
pieces of money which he had collected in this way, into the middle of a company of his
acquaintances, and said, "Cleanthes could maintain even another Cleanthes if he were to
choose; but others who have plenty of means to support themselves, seek for necessaries
from others; although they only study philosophy in a very lazy manner." And, in
reference to these habits of his, Cleanthes was called a second Heracles.

III. He was then very industrious; but he was not well endowed by nature, and was very
slow in his intellect. On which account Timon says of him

What stately ram thus measures o‘er the ground,

And master of the flock surveys them round?
What citizen of Assos, dull and cold,
Fond of long words, a mouth-piece, but not bold.
[This is a parody on Horn, Illiad. lii. 196. The word holmos means the mouth-piece of a
flute.]

And when he was ridiculed by his fellow pupils, he used to bear it patiently.
IV. He did not even object to the name when he was called an ass; but only said that he
was the only animal able to bear the burdens which Zeno put upon him. And once, when
he was reproached as a coward, he said, "That is the reason why I make but few
mistakes." He used to say, in justification of his preference of his own way of life to that
of the rich, "That while they were playing at ball, he was earning money by digging hard
and barren ground." And he very often used to blame himself. And once, Ariston heard
him doing so, and said, "Who is it that you are reproaching ?" [324>] and he replied, "An
old man who has grey hair, but no brains."

When some one once said to him, that Arcesilaus did not do what he ought, "Desist," he
replied, "and do not blame him; for if he destroys duty as far as his words go, at all events
he establishes it by his actions." Arcesilaus once said to him, " I never listen to flatterers."
" Yes," rejoined Cleanthes, "I flatter you, when I say that though you say one thing, you
do another." When some one once asked him what lesson he ought to inculcate on his
son, he replied, "The warning of Electra :"

— Silence, silence, gently step.

[Taken from the Orestes of Euripedes, I 140.]

When a Lacedaemonian once said in his hearing, that labour was a good thing, he was
delighted, and addressed him :—

Oh, early worth, a soul so wise and young

Proclaims you from the sage Lycurgus sprung.

Hecaton tells us in his Apophthegms, that once when a young man said, "If a man who
beats his stomach gastrizei then a man who slaps his thigh mêrizei" he replied, "Do you
stick to your diamêrizei," But analogous words do not always indicate analogous facts.
Once when he was conversing with a youth, he asked him if he felt; and as he said that he
did, "Why is it then," said Cleanthes, "that I do not feel that you feel?"

When Sositheus, the poet, said in the theatre where he was present

Men whom the folly of Cleanthes urges;

He continued in the same attitude; at which the hearers were surprised, and applauded
him, but drove Sositheus away. And when he expressed his sorrow for having abused him
in this manner, he answered him gently, saying, "That it would be a preposterous thing
for Bacchus and Hercules to bear being ridiculed by the poets without any expression of
anger, and for him to be indignant at any chance attack." He used also to say, "That the
Peripatetics were in the same condition as lyres, which though they utter sweet notes, do
not [325>] hear themselves." And it is said, that when he asserted that, on the principles
of Zeno, one could judge of a man‘s character by his looks, some witty young men
brought him a profligate fellow, having a hardy look from continual exercise in the fields,
and requested him to tell them his moral character; and he, having hesitated a little, bade
the man depart; and, as he departed, he sneezed, "I have the fellow now," said Cleanthes,
"he is a debauchee."

He said once to a mnu who was conversing with him by himself, "You are not talking to
a bad man." And when some one reproached him with his old age, he rejoined, "I too
wish to depart, but when I perceive myself to be in good health in every respect, and to be
able to recite and read, I am content to remain." They say too, that he used to write down
all that he heard from Zeno on oyster shells, and on the shoulder-blades of oxen, from
want of money to buy paper with.

V. And though he was of this character, and in such circumstances, he became so

eminent, that, though Zeno had many other disciples of high reputation, he succeeded
him as the president of his School.

VI. And he left behind him some excellent books, which are these. One on Time; two on
Zeno‘s System of Natural Philosophy; four books of the Explanations of Heraclitus; one
on Sensation; one on Art; one addressed to Democritus; one to Aristarchus; one to
Herillus; two on Desire; one entitled Archaeology; one on the Gods; one on the Giants;
one on Marriage; one on Poets; three on Duty; one on Good Counsel; one on Favour; one
called Exhortatory; one on Virtues; one on Natural Ability; one on Gorgippus; one on
Enviousness; one on Love; one on Freedom; one called the Art of Love; one on Honour;
one on Glory; The Statesman; one on Counsel; one on Laws; one on Deciding as a Judge;
one on the Way of Life; three on Reason; one on the Chief Good; one on the Beautiful;
one on Actions; one on Knowledge; one on Kingly Power; one on Friendship; one on
Banquets; one on the Principle that Virtue is the same in Man and Woman; one on the
Wise Man Employing Sophisms; one on Apophthegms; two books of Conversations; one
on Pleasure; one [326>] on Properties; one on Doubtful Things; one on Dialectics; one on
Modes; one on Categorems.

VII. These are his writings.

And he died in the following manner. His gums swelled very much; and, at the command
of his physicians, he abstained from food for two days. And he got so well that his
physicians allowed him to return to all his former habits; but he refused, and saying that
he had now already gone part of the way, he abstained from food for the future, and so
died; being, as some report, eighty years old, and having been a pupil of Zeno nineteen
years. And we have written a playful epigram on him also, which runs thus

I praise Cleanthes, but praise Pluto more;

Who could not bear to see him grown so old,
So gave him rest at last among the dead,
Who‘d drawn such loads of water while alive.

LIFE OF SPHAERUS.
I. Sphaerus, a native of the Bosphorus, was, as we have said before, a pupil of Cleanthes
after the death of Zeno.

II. And when he made a considerable advance in philosophy he went to Alexandria, to

the court of Ptolemy Philopater. And once, when there was a discussion concerning the
question whether a wise man would allow himself to be guided by opinion, and when
Sphaerus affirmed that he would not, the king, wishing to refute him, ordered some
pomegranates of wax to be set before him; and when Sphaerus was deceived by them, the
king shouted that he had given his assent to a false perception. But Sphaerus answered
very neatly, that he had not given his assent to the fact that they were pomegranates, but
to the fact that it was probable that they might be pomegranates. And that a perception
which could be comprehended differed from one that was only probable.

Once, when Innesistratus accused him of denying that [327>] Ptolemy was a king, he said
to him, "That Ptolemy was a man with such and such qualities, and a king." [This is
referring to the Stoic doctrine ridiculed by Horace: Si dives qui sapiens est, Et autor
bonus, et solus formosus, et est Rex Cur optas quod habes ?—Hor. Sat L 130. Which may
be translated :— If every man is rich who‘s wise, A cobbler too beyond all price A
handsome man, and eke a king; Why thus your vows at random fling?]

III. He wrote the following books. Two on the World; one on the Elements of Seed; one
on Fortune ; one on the Smallest Things; one on Atoms and Phantoms; one on the
Senses; five Conversations about Heraclitus; one on Ethical Arrangement; one on Duty;
one on Appetite; two on the Passions; one on Kingly Power; on the Lacedaemonian
Constitution; three on Lycurgus and Socrates; one on Law; one on Divination; one
volume of Dialogues on Love; one on the Eretrian Philosophers; one on Things Similar;
one on Terms; one on Habits; three on Contradictions; one on Reason; one on Riches;
one on Glory; one on Death; two on the Art of Dialectics; one on Categorems: one on
Ambiguity; and a volume of Letters.

LIFE OF CHRYSIPPUS
I. Chrysippus was the son of Apollonius, and a native of either Soli or Tarsus, as
Alexander tells us in his Successions; and he was a pupil of Cleanthes. Previously he
used to practise running as a public runner; then he became a pupil of Zeno or of
Cleanthes, as Diocles and the generality of authors say, and while he was still living he
abandoned him, and became a very eminent philosopher.

II. He was a man of great natural ability, and of great acuteness in every way, so that in
many points he dissented [328>] from Zeno, and also from Cleanthes, to whom he often
used to say that he only wanted to be instructed in the dogmas of the school, and that he
would discover the demonstrations for himself. But whenever he opposed him with any
vehemence, he always repented, so that he used frequently to say: —
In most respects I am a happy man,
Excepting where Cleanthes is concerned;
For in that matter I am far from fortunate.

And he had such a high reputation as a dialectician, that most people thought that if there
were such a science as dialectics among the Gods; it would be in no respect different
from that of Chrysippus. But though he was so eminently able in matter, he was not
perfect in style.

III. He was industrious beyond all other men; as is plain from his writings; for he wrote
more than seven hundred and five books. And he often wrote several books on the same
subject, wishing to put down everything that occurred to him; and constantly correcting
his previous assertions, and using a great abundance of testimonies. So that, as in one of
his writings he had quoted very nearly the whole of the Medea of Euripides, and some
one had his book in his hands; this latter, when he was asked what he had got there, made
answer, "The Medea of Chrysippus." And Apollodorus. the Athenian, in his Collection of
Dogmas, wishing to assert that what Epicurus had written out of his own head, and
without any quotations to support his arguments, was a great deal more than all the books
of Chrysippus, speaks thus (I give his exact words). "For if any one were to take away
from the books of Chrysippus all the passages which he quotes from other authors, his
paper would be left empty."

These are the words of Apollodorus; but the old woman. who lived with him, as Diocles
reports, used to say that he wrote five hundred lines every day. And Hecaton says, that he
first applied himself to philosophy, when his patrimony had been confiscated, and seized
for the royal treasury.

IV. He was slight in person, as is plain from his statue which is in the Ceramicus, which
is nearly hidden by the equestrian statue near it; in reference to which circumstance,
Carneades called him Cryxippus. [From kruptô, to hide, and hippos, a horse.] He was
once reproached [329>] by some one for not attending the lectures of Ariston, who was
drawing a great crowd after him at the time; and he replied, "If I had attended to the
multitude I should not have been a philosopher." And once, when he saw a dialectician
pressing hard on Cleanthes, and proposing sophistical fallacies to him, he said, "Cease to
drag that old man from more important business, and propose these questions to us who
are young." At another time, when some one wishing to ask him something privately, was
addressing him quietly, but when he saw a multitude approaching began to speak more
energetically he said to him

Alas, my brother! now your eye is troubled;

You were quite sane just now; and yet how quickly
Have you succumbed to frenzy.
[These lines are from the Orestes of Euripedes, v. 247.]

And at drinking parties he used to behave quietly, moving his legs about however, so that
a female slave once said, "It is only the legs of Chrysippus that are drunk." And he had so
high an opinion of himself, that once, when a man asked him, "To whom shall I entrust
my son?" he said "To me, for if I thought that there was any one better than myself, I
would have gone to him to teach me philosophy." In reference to which anecdote they
report that people used to say of him:—

He has indeed a clear and subtle head,

The rest are forms of empty aether made.
[This is a quotation from Homer, Odyssey, x. 495. … The Greek here is, hoios pepnutai.
The line in Homer stands: hoiôi pepnusthai, —sc. pore parsephoneia]

And also

For if Chrysippus had not lived and taught,

The Stoic school would surely have been naught

VI. But at last, when Arcesilaus and Lacydes, as Sotion records in his eighth book, came
to the Academy, he joined them in the study of philosophy; from which circumstance he
got the habit of arguing for and against a custom, and discussed magnitudes and
quantities, following the system of the Academics.

VII. Hermippus relates, that one day, when he was teaching in the Odeum, he was invited
to a sacrifice by his pupils; [330>] and, that drinking some sweet unmixed wine, he was
seized with giddiness, and departed this life five days afterwards, when he had lived
seventy-three years; dying in the hundred and forty-third olympiad, as Apollodorus says
in his Chronicles. And we have written an epigram on him

Chrysippus drank with open month some wine

Then became giddy, and so quickly died.
Too little reck‘d he of the Porch‘s weal,
Or of his country‘s, or of his own dear life;
And so descended to the realms of Hell.

But some people say that he died of a fit of immoderate laughter. For that seeing his ass
eating figs, he told his old woman to give the ass some unmixed wine to drink afterwards,
and then laughed so violently that he died.

VIII. He appears to have been a man of exceeding arrogance. Accordingly, though he

wrote such numbers of books, he never dedicated one of them to any sovereign. And he
was contented with one single old woman, as Demetrius tells us, in his People of the
same Name. And when Ptolemy wrote to Cleanthes, begging him either to come to him
himself or to send him some one, Sphaerus went to him, but Chrysippus slighted the
invitation.

IX. However, he sent for the sons of his sister, Aristocrea and Philocrates, and educated
them; and he was the first person who ventured to hold a school in the open air in the
Lyceum, as the before mentioned Demetrius relates.
X. There was also another Chrysippus, a native of Cnidos a physician, from whom
Erasistratus testifies that he received great benefit. And another also who was a son of
his, and the physician of Ptolemy; who, having had a false accusation brought against
him, was apprehended and punished by being scourged. There was also a fourth who was
a pupil of Erasistratus; and a fifth was an author of a work called Georgics.

XI. Now this philosopher used to delight in proposing questions of this sort. The person
who reveals the mysteries to the uninitiated commits a sin; the heirophant reveals them to
the uninitiated ; therefore the hierophant commits sin? Another was, that which is not in
the city, is also not in the house; but a well is not in the city, therefore, there is not a well
in the house. Another was, there is a certain head; that head you have not got; there is
then a [331>] a head that you have not got; therefore, you have not got a head. Again, if a
man is in Megara, he is not in Athens; but there is a man in Megara, therefore, there is not
a man in Athens. Again, if you say anything, what you say comes out of your mouth; but
you say "a waggon," therefore a waggon comes out of your mouth. Another was, if you
have not lost a thing, you have it; but you have not lost horns ; therefore, you have horns.
Though some attribute this sophism to Eubulides.

XII. There are people who run Chrysippus down as having written a great deal that is
very shameful and indecent. For in his treatise on the Ancient Natural Historians, he
relates the story of Jupiter and Juno very indecently, devoting six hundred lines to what
no one could repeat without polluting his mouth. For, as it is said, he composes this story,
though he praises it as consisting of natural details, in a way more suitable to street
walkers than to Goddesses; and not at all resembling the ideas which have been adopted
or cited by writers in paintings. For they were found neither in Polemo, nor in
Hypsicrates, nor in Antigonus, but were inserted by himself. And in his treatise on Polity,
he allows people to marry their mothers, or their daughters, or their sons. And he repeats
this doctrine in his treatise on those things which are not desirable for their own sake, in
the very opening of it. And in the third book of his treatise on Justice, he devotes a
thousand lines to bidding people devour even the dead.

In the second book of his treatise on Life and Means of Support, where he is warning us
to consider beforehand, how the wise man ought to provide himself with means, he says,
"And yet why need he provide himself with means? for if it is for the sake of living,
living at all is a matter of indifference; if it is for the sake of pleasure, that is a matter of
indifference too; if it is for the sake of virtue, that is of itself sufficient for happiness. But
the methods of providing one‘s self with means are ridiculous; for instance, some derive
them from a king; and then it will be necessary to humour him. Some from friendship;
and then friendship will become a thing to be bought with a price. Some from wisdom;
and then wisdom will become mercenary ; and these are the accusations which he
brings."

But since he has written many books of high reputation, it [332>] has seemed good to me
to give a catalogue of them, classifying them according to their subjects. They are the
following:— Books on Logic; Propositions; Logical Questions; a book of the
Contemplations of the Philosopher; six books of Dialectic Terms addressed to
Metrodorus; one on the Technical Terms used in Dialectics, addressed to Zeno; one
called the Art of Dialectics, addressed to Aristagoras; four books of Probable Conjunctive
Reasons, addressed to Dioscorides.

The first set of treatises on the Logical Topics, which concern things, contains: one essay
on Propositions; one on those Propositions which are not simple; two on the Copulative
Propositions, addressed to Athenades; three on Positive Propositions, addressed to
Aristagoras; one on Definite Propositions, addressed to Athenodorus; one on Privative
Propositions, addressed to Thearus; three on the Best Propositions, addressed to Dion;
four on the Differences between Indefinite Propositions; two on those Propositions which
are enunciated with a reference to time; two on Perfect Propositions.

The second set contains, one essay on a Disjunctive True Propositions, addressed to
Gorgippides ; four on a Conjunctive True Proposition, also addressed to Gorgippides; one
called, the Sect, addressed to Gorgippides; one on the argument of Consequents; one on
questions touched upon in the three preceding treatises, and now re-examined, this also is
addressed to Gorgippides; one on what is Possible, addressed to Clitus; one on the
treatise of Philo, on Signification; one on what it is that Falsehood consists in.

The third set contains, two treatises on Imperative Propositions; two on Interrogation;
four on Examination; an epitome of the subject of Interrogation and Examination; four
treatises on Answer; an abridgment on Answer; two essays on Investigation.

The fourth set contains ten books on Categorems, addressed to Metrodorus ; one treatise
on what is Direct and Indirect, addressed to Philarchus; one on Conjunctions, addressed
to Apollonides; four on Categorems, addressed to Pasylus.

The fifth set contains, one treatise on the Five Cases; one on Things defined according to
the Subject; two on Enunciation, addressed to Stesagoras; two on Appellative Nouns.

The next class of his writings refers to rules of Logic, [333>] with reference to words,
and speech which consists of ‘words.

The first set of these contains, six treatises on Singular and Plural Enunciations; five on
Words, addressed to Sosigines and Alexander; four on the Inequality of Words, addressed
to Dion; three on the Sorites which refer to Words; one on Solecisms in the Use of
Words, addressed to Dionysius; one entitled Discourses, contrary to Customs; one
entitled Diction, and addressed to Dionysius.

The second set contains, five treatises on the Elements of Speech and of Phrases; four on
the Arrangement of Phrases; three on the Arrangement, and on the Elements of Phrases,
addressed to Philip; one on the Elements of Discourse, addressed to Nicias; one on
Correlatives.

The third set contains, two treatises against those who do not admit Division; four on
Ambiguous Expressions, addressed to Apollos; one, Ambiguity in Modes; two on the
Ambiguous Use of Figures, in Conjunctive Propositions; two on the essay on Ambiguous
Expressions, by Panthorides; five on the introduction to the Ambiguous Expressions; one,
being an abridgment of the Ambiguous Expressions, addressed to Epicrates; and a
collection of instances to serve as an Introduction to the Ambiguous Expressions, in two
books.

The next class is on the subject of that part of logic which is conversant about reasonings
and modes.

The first set of works in this class, contains, the Art of Reasoning and of Modes, in five
books, addressed to Dioscorides; a treatise on Reasoning, in three books; one on the
Structure of Modes, addressed to Stesagoras, in five books; a comparison of the Elements
of Modes; a treatise on Reciprocal and Conjunctive Reasonings; an essay to Agatha,
called also an essay on Problems, which follow one another; a treatise, proving that
Syllogistic Propositions suppose one or more other terms; one on Conclusions, addressed
to Anstagoras; one essay, proving that the same reasoning can affect several figures; one
against those who deny that the same reasoning can be expressed by syllogism, and
without syllogism, in two books; three treatises against those who attack the resolution of
Syllogisms; one on the treatise on Modes, by Philo, addressed to Timostratus; two
treatises on [334>] Logic, in one volume, addressed to Timocrates and Philomathes; one
volume of questions on Reasonings and Modes.

The second set contains, one book of Conclusive Reasonings, addressed to Zeno; one on
Primary Syllogisms, which are not demonstrative; one on the resolution of Syllogisms;
one, in two books, on Captious Reasonings, addressed to Pasylus; one book of
Considerations on Syllogisms; one book of Introductory Syllogisms, addressed to Zeno;
three of Introductory Modes, addressed also to Zeno; five of False Figures of Syllogism;
one of a Syllogistic Method, for the resolution of arguments, which are not
demonstrative; one on Researches into the Modes, addressed to Zeno and Philomathes
(but this appears to be an erroneous title).

The third set contains, one essay on Incidental Reasonings, addressed to Athenades (this
again is an incorrect title); three books of Incidental Discourses on the Medium (another
incorrect title); one essay on the Disjunctive Reasons of Aminias.

The fourth set contains, a treatise on Hypothesis, in three books, addressed to Meliager; a
book of hypothetical reasonings on the Laws, addressed also to Meliager; two books of
hypothetical reasoning to serve as an Introduction; two books of hypothetical reasonings
on Theorems; a treatise in two books, being a resolution of the Hypothetical Reasonings
of Hedylus; an essay, in three books, being a resolution of the Hypothetical Reasonings
of Alexander (this is au incorrect title); two books of Expositions, addressed to
Leodamas.

The fifth set contains, an introduction to Fallacy, addressed Aristocreon; an introduction

to False Reasonings; a treatise in six books, on Fallacy, addressed to Aristocreon.
The sixth set contains, a treatise against those who believe Truth and Falsehood to be the
same thing. One, in two books, against those who have recourse to division to resolve the
Fallacy, addressed to Aristocreon; a demonstrative essay, to prove that it is not proper to
divide indefinite terms; an essay, in three books, in answer to the objections against the
non-division of Indefinite Terms, addressed to Pasylus; a solution, according to the
principles of the ancients, addressed to Dioscorides; an essay on the Resolution of the
Fallacy, addressed to Aristocreon, this is in three books; a resolution [335>] of the
Hypothetical Arguments of Hedylus, in one book, addressed to Aristocreon and Apollos.

The seventh set contains, a treatise against those who contend that the premises on the
Fallacy, are false; a treatise on Negative Reasoning, addressed to Aristocreon, in two
books; one book of Negative Reasonings, addressed to Gymnasias; two books of a
treatise on Reasoning by Progression, addressed to Stesagoras; two books of Reasonings
by Interrogation, and on the Arrest [The argument by progression is the sorites. "The
arrest" is the method of encountering the sorites, by taking some particular point at which
to stop the admissions required by the sorites.], addressed to Onetor; an essay, in two
books, on the Corrected Argument, addressed to Aristobulus; another on the Non-
apparent Argument, addressed to Athenades.

The eighth set contains, an essay on the Argument Oretis, in eight books, addressed to
Menecrates; a treatise, in two books, on Arguments composed of a finite term, and an
indefinite term, addressed to Pasylus; another essay on the Argument Outis, addressed to
Epicrates.

The ninth set contains, two volumes of Sophisms, addressed to Heraclides, and Pollis;
five volumes of Dialectic Arguments, which admit of no solution, addressed to
Dioscorides, an essay, in one book, against the Method of Arcesilaus, addressed to
Sphaerus.

The tenth set contains, a treatise in six books, against Custom, addressed to Metrodorus;
and another, in seven books, on Custom, addressed to Gorgippides.

There are, therefore, works on Logic, in the four grand classes which we have here
enumerated, embracing various questions, without any connection with one another, to
the number of thirty nine sets, amounting in the whole to three hundred and eleven
treatises on Logic.

The next division comprises those works which have for their object, the explanation of
Moral Ideas.

The first class of this division, contains an essay, giving a description of Reason,
addressed to Theosphorus; a book of Ethical questions; three books of Principles, to serve
as the foundation of Dogmas, addressed to Philomathes; two books of definitions of
Good-breeding, addressed to Metrodorus; two books of definitions of the Bad, addressed
to Metrodorus; [336>] two books of definitions of Neutral Things, addressed also to
Metrodorus; seven books of definitions of Things, according to their genera, addressed to
Metrodorus; and two books of Definitions, according to other systems, addressed to
Metrodorus.

The second set contains, a treatise on Things Similar, in three books, addressed to
Aristocles; an essay on Definitions, in seven books, addressed to Metrodorus.

The third set contains, a treatise, in seven books, on the Incorrect Objections made to
Definitions, addressed to Laodamas; two books of Probable Arguments bearing on
Definitions, addressed to Dioscorides; two books on Species and Genus, addressed to
Gorgippides; one book on Divisions; two books on Contraries, addressed to Dionysius; a
book of Probable Arguments relating to Divisions, and Genera, and Species; a book on
Contraries.

The fourth set contains, a treatise, in seven books, on Etymologies, addressed to Diocles;
another, in four books, on the same subject, addressed to the same person.

The fifth set contains, a treatise in two books, on Proverbs, addressed to Zenodotus; an
essay on Poems, addressed to Philomathes; an essay, on How one Ought to Listen to
Poems, in two books; an essay, in reply to Critics, addressed to Diodorus.

The next division refers to Ethics, looked at in a general point of view, and to the
different systems arising out of them, and to the Virtues.

The first set contains, an essay against Pictures, addressed to Timonax; an essay on the
Manner in which we express ourselves about, and form our Conceptions of, each separate
thing; two books of Thoughts, addressed to Laodamas; an essay, in three books, on
Conception, addressed to Pythonax; an essay, that the Wise Man is not Guided by
Opinion; an essay, in five books, on Comprehension, and Knowledge, and Ignorance; a
treatise on Reason, in two books; a treatise on the Employment of Reason, addressed to
Leptines.

The second set contains, a treatise, that the Ancient Philosophers approved of Logic, with
Proofs to support the Arguments, in two books, addressed to Zeno; a treatise on
Dialectics, in four books, addressed to Aristocreon; an answer to the Objections urged
against Dialectics, in three [337>] books; an essay on Rhetoric, in four books, addressed,
to Dioscorides.

The third set contains, a treatise on Habit, in three books, addressed to Cleon; a treatise
on Art and Want of Art, in four hooks, addressed to Aristocreon; a treatise, in four books,
on the Difference between the Virtues, addressed to Diodorus; a treatise, to show that all
the Virtues are Equal; a treatise on the Virtues, in two books, addressed to Polis.

The next division refers to Ethics, as relating to Good and Evil.

The first set contains, a treatise in ten books, on the Honourable, and on Pleasure,
addressed to Aristocreon; a demonstration, that Pleasure is not the Chief Good of Man, in
four books; a demonstration that Pleasure is not a Good at all, in four books; a treatise on
what is said by . .*

* The remainder of the life of Chrysippus is lost.*

Zeno and the Beginning of Stoicism[1]

by Andrew Erskine

On the north side of the Athenian agora there was a colonnade known as the Stoa Poikile,
or the Painted Stoa, named after the famous paintings which decorated its rear wall. Here
a visitor to third century Athens might have seen a thin, rather tall man with a slightly
twisted neck, pacing up and down as he addressed a small group of listeners. This was
Zeno, the founder of one of the most influential philosophical schools in antiquity, a
school which would later number among its adherents the Roman emperor Marcus
Aurelius. These philosophers would come to be known as Stoics after the building in
which their founder taught.

The term 'stoical' has entered many European languages. The Oxford English Dictionary
offers the following definition: 'Of a person: Resembling a Stoic in austerity, indifference
to pleasure and pain, repression of all feeling, and the like.' Yet Zeno himself appears to
have been a somewhat discontented man, far from happy with the status quo. His most
famous and controversial work was the Republic, a vigorous reaction against both his
philosophical predecessors and the society he observed around him. No other work by
Zeno, or indeed any Stoic, attracted as much attention or as much abuse as this one. It is
mentioned so often in ancient writers that, although the original text is now lost, it is
possible to form some impression of its contents. Zeno began the Republic by attacking
the corruption of contemporary society, which was full of bad men, who were fools and
enemies to each other. He then proceeded to outline an ideal society, derived from Stoic
principles, in which all were wise and living in harmony. This would be the natural way
of life for men who had perfected their reason. There would be no temples, lawcourts,
gymnasia, images of the gods, not even coinage. Marriage and the family would be
unnecessary institutions in this new society; women, instead, would be 'shared' and men
would feel paternal affection for all children as if they were their own. There would be no
distinction in the dress of men and women; indeed clothes may often be unnecessary.
Homosexuality too was acceptable in the ideal society; just as women were shared, so too
were men. Some things, such as marriage and the family, may have been abandoned
because they were the cause of conflict, while others, such as lawcourts and coinage,
would have been unnecessary in a harmonious society.

For Zeno the Republic depicted a morally-perfect community, but for his critics it was
morally repellent. This radical and provocative work embarrassed later Stoics, who
consequently tried to distance themselves from it. Some claimed that it was an early work
by Zeno, written when he was 'young and foolish' and still under the influence of the
Cynics, others denied that he wrote it all, and one man, Athenodorus, used his position as
librarian in Pergamum to remove all offending passages from the library-copy of the
Republic. This reaction against the Republic seems to have begun in the mid-second
century BC. Whether it was written as an early in Zeno's career or later, it was clearly
central to his philosophy and should not be dismissed as a minor work. His third-century
successors, Cleanthes and Chrysippus both made similar suggestions in their own
writings, but as they were not the founders of the school they did not cause the same
embarrassment. The Republic, however, may have been less extreme than our evidence
suggests, since our knowledge of the work stems from Zeno's critics who selected those
aspects which were most controversial.

The Republic was very consciously written in opposition to Plato's Republic and it is
interesting to observe the differing political outlooks of the two works. In Plato's society
the wise rule the rest, reflecting an aristocratic, oligarchic perspective, in which the
subordination of one class to the other is an integral element of the ideal. Zeno's ideal
society, in contrast, contains only the wise. Although Zeno's emphasis on the wise could
be interpreted as being extremely elitist, it should be understood in its opposition to
Plato's hierarchical, class society. Zeno's perspective is essentially egalitarian and
democratic, another reason perhaps for the later hostility towards this controversial book.

Zeno was born in the late 330s BC in the Cypriot city of Citium, a city with a mixed
Greek and Phoenician population. His father, Mnaseas, was a wealthy merchant, who, it
is said, would return from visits to Athens with books on Socrates as presents for his son.
There are several stories told of Zeno's arrival in Athens, all of which draw on this
merchant background. The story that Zeno arrived in Athens, sold his cargo and began
studying philosophy was evidently felt to be too dull. Instead a more dramatic version
developed in which a shipwreck left Zeno stranded in Athens and thus gave him the
opportunity to turn to philosophy. Although Zeno subsequently spent most of his life in
Athens, he continued to feel a strong affinity with his native town. On one occasion he
contributed to the restoration of the baths in Athens and when he saw that he was listed
among the benefactors merely as 'Zeno the philosopher' he asked that the words 'of
Citium' be added. Citium in turn honoured him with a statue.

Zeno was in his early twenties when he came to Athens. Here he was taught by the
leading philosophers of the day, amongst whom the Cynic Crates and the Academic
Polemon probably had the greatest influence on him. Cynicism was a radical doctrine that
was as much a way of life as a philosophy. The Cynic rejection of convention and
preference for a natural life could cause considerable shock when put into practice.
Diogenes, the first Cynic, had masturbated in public, commenting that he wished it were
possible to satisfy his hunger by rubbing his stomach. The Academics, in contrast, were
very traditional philosophers, who considered Plato to be their intellectual master. As his
Republic demonstrates, Zeno was clearly very familiar with Plato's works and much of
his philosophy can be interpreted as a reaction to Plato.

At some point, perhaps around 300 BC, Zeno himself began teaching, but it would be
misleading to treat this as the establishment of a school in any formal sense. Zeno simply
began talking in public about philosophical problems and thus made his own contribution
to current debates, something which would not have prevented him from continuing to
attend lectures himself. The central location of the Painted Stoa among the main public
buildings of Athens would have made it easier for Zeno to gain an audience, although
later in his career he is said to have discouraged by-standers by asking them for money. It
was not uncommon for philosophers to teach in public places, for instance gymnasia such
as the Academy and the Lyceum, but Zeno's choice of the Painted Stoa may have had a
special symbolic value. This building was erected in the 460s to celebrate Greek success
in the Persian Wars, the victory of Greek over non-Greek, or to use Greek terminology,
over the barbarian. The paintings in the Stoa depicted the Greeks defeating archetypal
barbarians, Persians, Amazons and Trojans. Yet, Zeno was a man from an ethnically-
mixed community, a man who was sometimes called a Phoenician and who is found
criticised for his 'barbarian stinginess'. As he walked up and down the Stoa, explaining
his philosophy that the only significant distinction between men was between the virtuous
and the rest, his presence there would have called into question the very meaning of the
paintings and their assertion of the superiority of the Greek over the barbarian.

One of Zeno's more famous (and more powerful) pupils was the Macedonian king,
Antigonus Gonatas, who was said to have attended Zeno's lectures whenever he was in
Athens. The importance of Zeno's relationship with Antigonus, however, has often been
exaggerated. Only in the years 294-87 did the Antigonid dynasty have sufficient control
over Athens to give Antigonus access to Zeno's lectures and during these years Antigonus
was not yet king. A rising in 287 brought the city independence from Macedonian rule,
but the continuing presence of a Macedonian garrison in Piraeus, the harbour town of
Athens, was a constant problem for the Athenians. After his accession to the throne in
277/6 Antigonus' court became a centre for writers and intellectuals. Zeno was amongst
the many philosophers, historians, and poets invited to the court, but he consistently
declined repeated invitations. Finally he sent two pupils, Persaeus and Philonides, in his
place.

In Athens Zeno was much respected, the recipient of many honours, including a gold
crown, a bronze statue and burial at public expense in the Ceramicus. He is known to
have been friendly with members of the Athenian élite, some of whom would have been
his pupils. In particular his name is linked with two prominent anti-Macedonian
politicians, Demochares and Chremonides. Demochares was a nephew of Demosthenes,
the impassioned spokesman for the anti-Macedonian group in the previous century, while
in the 260s Chremonides would fight an unsuccessful war to reclaim the Piraeus from the
Macedonians. Where Zeno stood in relation to these politicians is controversial. As a
foreigner in Athens he may have avoided becoming too entangled in Athenian politics
and thus have been able to occupy a neutral position in his dealings with those for and
against Macedon. On the other hand, his association with these politicians could be
interpreted as a sign of his sympathy with the anti-Macedonian cause. Such sympathy
may explain his reluctance to visit the Macedonian court.

Strangely, almost as much is known about Zeno's eating and drinking habits as about his
philosophy. His tastes were simple and suited his general asceticism; he ate small loaves
and honey, and drank a little wine of good bouquet; he enjoyed green figs and lying in the
sun. His manner was rather austere, but he is said to have relaxed when drinking 'just as
the bitter lupin becomes sweet when soaked in water.' Heavy drinking, however, did not
appeal to him and he invariably turned down invitations to symposia, the traditional
Greek drinking parties, but, paradoxically, numerous stories are told of his often grumpy
wit at such parties. The proliferation of such stories is a little puzzling. The explanation is
probably to be found in his pupil Persaeus who made Zeno a central figure in his now-
lost book on symposia.

In spite of his enormous influence Zeno is in many ways elusive. There is no

contemporary evidence for his life or work. Although he wrote at least twenty books and
he himself was the subject of books by his pupils, all these works have since been lost.
This is very different from his predecessors, Plato and Aristotle, whose numerous
writings survive to give a very full picture of their philosophy. It is possible to know and
understand Plato and Aristotle in a way in which it is not possible with Zeno. The fate of
Zeno's philosophical works is not exceptional, but is one example of a more general
phenomenon, the almost complete disappearance of Hellenistic literature. There is a
sharp contrast between the Classical period and the Hellenistic age that followed, the
boundary falling roughly in the reign of Alexander the Great. Classical texts, whether
tragedy, history or oratory, survive in good numbers, but this is unfortunately not true of
Hellenistic writing. Lost, for instance, are all 705 works, said to have been written by
Chrysippus, head of the Stoic school in the late third century BC. This is usually
explained as a change of taste; later centuries admired and imitated the Attic style of the
Classical writers and scorned their Hellenistic successors. Style may not be the only
explanation, but the effect is clear: the writings of the Hellenistic Stoa are lost. This is not
to suggest that there is no evidence for the life and work of Zeno, but it is late, difficult to
interpret, and often anecdotal. Most important is the biography of Zeno written by
Diogenes Laertius in the third century AD as part of his series of philosophical lives.

Although the main tenets of Stoic thought are known today, it is not always clear whether
they were already held by Zeno and, if they were, how they were argued for. The school
continued over centuries under the leadership of a series of major thinkers, such as
Chrysippus and Panaetius, who developed and changed the school's doctrines. Both of
these philosophers wrote before our earliest surviving evidence for Stoic thought, which
therefore can hardly be independent of their influence. About Chrysippus it was said in
antiquity, 'if there had been no Chrysippus, there would have been no Stoa.' There are,
thus, two problems: first, if something is described as Stoic, it might have been
unrecognisable to Zeno; secondly, even when it is explicitly attributed to Zeno, it may be
expressed in a way which is more appropriate to later thinkers than to Zeno. With the
exception of 39 lines of a hymn composed by the third-century Stoic Cleanthes, the
earliest evidence comes from about two centuries after the death of Zeno and it is written
not by a Stoic but by a Roman politician Cicero, the author of a number of philosophical
treatises in Latin.

Part of the originality of Zeno's Stoicism lay in its ambitious attempt to develop an all-
embracing philosophical system. The two most important words in the Stoic vocabulary
were 'reason' (logos) and 'nature' (physis). By positing a rational universe the Stoics could
treat the different parts of philosophy, logic, physics and ethics, as a coherent and inter-
related whole. In his ethics Zeno put forward the radical, and often criticised, proposition
that virtue alone was necessary for happiness; everything else, such as health, wealth and
even life itself, although advantageous, was irrelevant to the attainment of happiness. But
ethics is not to be understood in isolation. To live a virtuous life is to fulfil one's potential
as a human; in other words, one's reason or rationality is in harmony with the reason of
nature. Those who achieve this are the wise, the inhabitants of the ideal society of the
Republic, which is thus a community itself in harmony with nature.

Zeno died shortly after Antigonus Gonatas' recapture of Athens at the end of the
Chremonidean War at the age of 72. Falling and injuring himself, he beat his fist against
the ground and recited a line from Timotheus' Niobe, 'I'm coming. Why do you call for
me?' Then in the rather enigmatic words of Diogenes Laertius, 'he throttled himself and
died.'

Bibliographical note

Diogenes Laertius' Life of Zeno can be found in book 7 of his Lives of Eminent
Philosophers, published in the Loeb series with an English translation by R.D. Hicks.
A.A. Long's Hellenistic Philosophy: Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics (2nd edition,
London, 1986) provides an accessible introduction to Stoic thought. More recent is R.W.
Sharples, Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics: an Introduction to Hellenistic Philosophy
(London 1996). A selection of sources in translation can be found in A.A. Long and D.
Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers (Cambridge 1987). Some of the ideas in the present
article are treated at greater length in A. Erskine, The Hellenistic Stoa: Political Thought
and Action (London 1990).

University College Dublin

Stoics and Cynics in the Roman World

Topics

- Introduction: Political and Social Viewpoints

- Founders and Schools

- Personal, Pragmatic, and Eclectic

- The Just Ruler

1. Introduction: Political and Social Viewpoints

The group of thinkers and writers we might label as 'stoics' and 'cynics' had a profound
influence upon Roman social and political life. Beyond their intrinsic philosophical and
ethical worth, the influence of these groups on political life in the Late Republic and
Early Empire is worth outlining in some detail. Many of the conceptions developed by
earlier philosophers find fuller fruit under the Roman imperial system. Furthermore,
much of the original writing of the Stoic philosophers has been lost, and is only preserved
in later writers and commentators such as Cicero and Diogenes Laertius.

In the case of Cynic philosophers, their significance does not reside only in their writings
or theories. Their social practice, and the way they directly tried to put their ideas into
use, form the major contribution made by their tradition. Therefore, we will need to see
that way such figures as Diogenes the Cynic (mid fourth century B.C.), Crates (late 4th &
early 3rd century B.C.) and Bion (early 3rd century) lived their lives, and the legacy they
left after them.

For the purposes of this analysis, Stoics and Cynics include not only the major
philosophers of each school, but also Romans who closely followed or were strongly
influenced by these traditions. Cato the younger and Brutus were said to be adherents of
the Stoic and or Academic doctrines, while Cassius was held to be a follower of
Epicurus. Cicero's letters tell us of a work by Brutus called De Virtute, dedicated to
Cicero, and apparently following the lines of the 'New Academy' (Rawson, 1985),
perhaps with some Stoic ethics added. Cicero, himself a man of letters, was probably
mainly influenced by this 'New Academy', which claimed to be the genuine inheritor of
Plato's philosophy, following the thought of Philo of Larissa (c. 110-79 B.C.).

Cicero's general stance was not so much a strict scepticism, but rather, following Philo, 'a
modest fallibilism, which permitted the philosopher a wide range of opinions, subject
only to recognition that any one of them might be mistaken, and authorized truth or
approximation to the truth' (Long & Sedly 1988, pp448-9). However, many of Cicero's
political and ethical notions were strongly influenced by Stoic doctrines, e.g. De Officiis
I.VI for the use of knowledge in the conduct of social duties. Likewise, in Cicero's study
of the Republic and its laws, influenced by both Plato and Zeno, he accepted the notion of
a mixed constitution, but modified it to give more power to the wiser elements in the state
(The Republic V.8; see further http://www.international-
relations.com/History/Cicero.htm). Part of the problem for Cicero was the new conditions
facing Rome as it expanded its geographical and cultural boundaries: -

By Cicero's time, the task of promulgating an international code of political and

military ethics had become pressing: the Roman conquest had largely
extinguished independent civic life and had sapped civil religion, melting the
cities into a polyglot empire whose elite was suffused with the popularized
philosophy or "theology" of a wide variety of competing Greek sects (Epicureans,
Stoics, Skeptics, Peripatetics, Old and New Academics and so on). . . . . In rising
to the occasion, Cicero laid down some of the most influential, and surely the
most oft-quoted, pronouncements ever made on the moral limits of war, on the
 duties of civil societies towards one another and on the obligations of citizens
toward non-citizens. (Pangle 1998, p239)

Plutarch also records that Crassus was said to be fascinated by Greek philosophy, and to
have kept a servant trained in the Greek philosophy (Plutarch Crassus 3). Likewise, the
Academic Arius Didymus was Augustus' friend and teacher (Samuel 1988, p286). In both
cases, it is difficult to tell what sustained effect these teachers had on the political lives of
these magnates.

Greek culture and literature had an enormous impact on Roman intellectual life generally
during the Republic period. Greek language, poetry, theatre, history and rhetoric
profoundly influenced Roman forms of expression from the 3rd century B.C. onwards.
The circle of Scipio Aemilianus, for example, included Greek historians and
philosophers, just as Tiberius Gracchus' tutors included the Stoic philosopher Blossius of
Cumae. The question we might ask, for example, was what influence, if any, such a tutor
might have had on Tiberius Gracchus' political life. Answers to this question cannot be
readily found in our ancient sources; Blossius may have been merely an ornament in
rounding out the Gracchi's education, but it is likely that such an education would have
helped provide the Gracchi's critical insight into the Roman social system (Dudley 1941).
Blossius' political actions were not based entirely on Stoic conceptions: his democratic
and later revolutionary impulses (when he joined the rebellion of Aristonicus in Asia
Minor) were probably based on 'family traditions of allegiance to the Campanian
democratic party' and in part on utopian views linked to the cult of the Syrian Sun-God
(Dudley 1941, pp96-99). We can compare these 'revolutionary' trends with the more
'cautious conservatism of Scipio Ameilianus' which as more in line with the "'new model'
Stoicism of Panaetius' (Dudley 1941, p97). Greek philosophy, then, is part of the general
social context of the Gracchian reforms, but not its direct cause.

Generally, philosophy was viewed as a worthwhile addition to polish a gentleman's

training, but was held to be far less important than rhetoric. There had indeed been
something of an intellectual battle between rhetoric and philosophy, which certainly goes
back to the classic disputes between Isocrates and Aristotle in Athens. By the early 4th
century in Greece the sophists were a class of wandering teachers who specialised in
higher education, usually for political and career purposes. Their main tool was rhetoric
combined with a loose use of logic which enabled 'the weaker argument to look the
stronger' (see Plato The Apology). Through thinkers such as Hippias of Elis, Gorgias, and
Protagoras of Abdera the sophists also developed an explicit attack on the attempt of
philosophy to find certainty. Sophists argued that there were always two sides to a
question and in the end man was the measure of all things, including truth. Plato, of
course, attacked such positions, but also admitted that a true rhetoric, one which
demonstrates absolute truth by means of true principles and a convincing psychological
methodology, could be developed (see Plato Gorgias 504d; Kennedy 1963, p16)

The scepticism of the sophists, combined with an implicit view of natural moral law such
that what is also is what ought to be, allowed the sophists to develop a plausible and
saleable moral philosophy that was particularly appealing during the crises of the later
5th and 4th centuries B.C. Ironically, their doctrines were to go on and form part of the
current which created the radical social criticism of Cynic thought, and underlay much of
the later Sceptical position. These debates were also an impetus in developing the natural
law arguments of Stoicism (Flew 1979, p330-1).

Thus began a debate between the claims of either rhetoric or philosophy as a proper
higher education, with Isocrates and his followers attacking Plato's position, as well as
that of the early Aristotle. For Plato rhetoric could only be as beneficial as the content it
was dealing with, and was dangerous when used to persuade people to falsehoods.
Furthermore, Plato enumerated two basic principles which helped improve the practice
rhetoric; first, that the speaker should offer an initial definition of the nature of his topic,
and second that he should carefully divide his topic up into its component parts, but deal
with these systematically as part of an organic whole (Dixon 1971, p12).

Cicero, though a master in the persuasive art himself, lamented that these two halves of
the same necessary education had been split. The true statesman needs oratory, a
knowledge of ethics, politics and dialectic in order to truly effective (Rawson 1985,
p282). Later in his life Cicero spend much of his effort in expressing the key conceptions
of Greek philosophy through a variety of works, including the Academica, On
Divination, On Ends, On Fate, and On the Nature of the Gods. For Cicero, persuasion
and truth should go hand in hand.

Elsewhere, we find other Roman statesmen being enchanted by Greek philosophy. There
seems to have been some slight revival of Aristotle's physical and biological philosophies
after Sulla brought back the books collected by his school, The Lyceum, to Rome
(Plutarch Sulla 26). The works of Aristotle and Theophrastus were now available to
Romans, and seem to have influenced professional philosophers during the late Republic.
The term Peripatetics is sometimes used for the school of thought following Aristotle,
since it was the custom at the Lyceum to take walks as they debated.

2. Founders and Schools

Greek philosophy moved into different channels during the Hellenistic age. Essentially,
philosophy had moved beyond the legacies of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, though
dealing with many of the same issues. It often claimed justification for a viewpoint by re-
interpreting these masters, often in the context of moral or political guidance for everyday
people as well as those with high levels of education.

Socrates, of course, has been immortalized by the writings of his young pupil Plato,
whose voluminous works created a tradition which was passed down through the
Academy he founded. They would a major rebirth when joined to religious conceptions
in the Neo-Platonism of the 2nd-4th centuries A.D. Socrates, however, left more than the
rationalistic, formal and utopian tradition found in Plato. It must be remembered that
Socrates did not himself write down his philosophical ideas. Instead, he pursued them
through the radical questioning of social behaviour and commonly held social ideas.
Indeed, the early dialogues of Plato show Socrates 'as a man with deep moral convictions
and as someone who strove to get others to share them.' He was engaged in a form of
persuasion, using dialectic to shift the respondents' mind to a path of less falsehood
(Seeskin 1987, p8; Plato Apology 30a, 36c). Indeed, the Socratic method itself might be
something rather different than the type of systematic philosophy which Plato engaged in
later in his life. As noted by Seeskin: -

The conclusion . . . is that the Socratic method is neither subject, nor object, nor
situation neutral: it requires a dialogical encounter in which the moral worth of the
participants is at stake. To the degree that this encounter is the paradigm for
understanding thought in general, discovery, intellectual advancement, always
has had a practical dimension. If Socrates is right, there is no special branch of
learning devoted to moral education. All education worthy of the name imposes a
moral test . . . (1987, pp149-50)

Now, it is exactly this aspect of Socrates' life that is taken up by the Cynic philosophers.
They imposed a kind of moral and social test on individuals and upon the cities in which
they lived, using humour, satirical actions, and apparently stupid responses to develop a
critical attack on the type of artificial life they saw around them. Thus when Plato
described Diogenes of Sinope (circa 404-323 B.C.), one of the first major Cynics, as 'A
Socrates gone mad', he was making an insightful statement (Diogenes Laertius Diogenes
VI.54). The term Cynic itself, derives from the Greek term for dog; in a perhaps mythical
encounter with Alexander the Great, Diogenes explains that he was called a dog because
he would 'fawn on those who give me anything, I yelp at those who refuse, and I set my
teeth on rascals.' (Diogenes Laertius Diogenes VI.60). As summarised by Helmut
Koester: -

The founder of Cynic philosophy, Diogenes of Sinope . . ., who was called "the
dog" (kyon) because of his impudence, hesitated at nothing when he wanted to
demonstrate his rejection of cultural values and bourgeois conventions. Diogenes
proclaimed no specific philosophical doctrine, nor did his successors; but later
Cynics were often influenced by Stoic philosophy. Their frugality and impudence
were chiefly expressions of their repudiation of the conventions of society. On the
positive side they stressed following only natural standards of behavior, acted as
pastoral counsellors, and volunteered to work for others. Cynic philosophy was
not based upon the formulation and handing down of doctrines, but upon the
creation and transmission of striking examples for behavior. (Koester, I, 1987,
p153-154)

Cynics came to be regarded as philosophical watchdogs, stripping away unnecessary and

untenable ideas and practices. This notion is already found in Plato's Republic, where
there is a detailed and perhaps humorous account of why philosophers and dogs are alike.

The key notion of the Cynic doctrine was that one should live in accord with nature,
without worrying about a host of unnecessary and indeed dangerous secondary
distractions. This allowed one to live completely, and without slavish dependency on
others, or in a slavish surrender to one's own inflated desires. In such a condition of
nature, man could find self-sufficiency, autarky, and thereby be prepared for every
eventuality, for every fortune. Such a person was not the citizen of the puny and
insufficient city-state, but indeed a citizen of universe, a kosmopolites (Diogenes Laertius
Diogenes VI, 62-3; Pangle 1998, p242). The Cynics were often itinerant teachers,
wondering throughout the Graeco-Roman world with no more than their cloak, leather
wallet, a stick, and their sharp tongues. By the mid-third century we find the following
(un)popular image of the Cynic from the poet Leonidas of Tarentum: -

Wallet and hard old goatskin,

flask and staff for his treat,

empty purse of dogskin,

hat for his blasphemous head,

these are the spoils that Famine

won from Sochares - dead.

(in Ferguson 1973, p84)

Other Cynics included Crates, who gave away his fortune to enjoin a life of simplicity,
attacking the hedonistic and selfish way of life (Ferguson 1973, p85) that was common to
the richer classes of the Hellenistic world. Crates was nicknamed 'the Door-Opener'
because he would walk into private homes, uninvited, and teach the inhabitants. Bion of
Borysthenes followed a similar social philosophy, once again pointing to the notion of
self-sufficiency based on a simple life lived in accord with the limits and abilities of
nature (Ferguson 1973, p86). From the third century B.C. the Cynics also made sue of the
diatribe, a persuasive, popular discourse without technical language, designed to
influence ordinary people and attack opposing views (see Koester, I, p154). Some of
these ideas on the simple life were taken up the Roman writer Varro, especially in his
Menippean Satires, which were written perhaps in the 70's B.C. (Rawson 1985, p283),
though Varro has watered their doctrines down and accepts the worship of gods and other
social practises.

The notion of the cosmopolitan nature of man, at home in every country, with a shared
human nature common to all races and all classes, would be taken up at a later date by the
Stoic philosophers. In turn, it once again emphasised the individual and his place in the
universe. It developed an ethic that had to be adapted (by Cicero and Seneca, among
others) to conform with Roman notions of public duty and public life. The Hellenistic
schools, generally, turned more towards the fate of the individual, the idiotes, rather than
towards expounding complete political systems. This was because of two trends. The
individual soul, with its rational mind, was held to provide a more satisfactory level at
which to solve philosophical and ethical problems. Neither the polis nor a republic could
truly provide an environment which seriously dealt with human happiness (contra
Aristotle & Plato). Instead of inventing an ideal utopian state, an ideal and remote
epistemology, or a workable constitution, the Stoics in argued for a particular attitude
towards life that would generate the least pain and the greatest clarity of thought.
Two major doctrinal philosophies emerged during the early 3rd century; those of
Epicurus (Epicureanism) and Zeno (Stoicism). Stoicism is named after the Stoa, the
'painted colonnade' at Athens, where Zeno of Citium (334-262 B.C.) and his pupils used
to gather to discuss and teach their particular views on philosophy. Zeno had first trained
under the Cynic Crates, but soon moved away from the 'ethical extremism' of Cynicism,
find some place for conventional social values (Long & Sedley 1988, p3). Developed by
thinkers such as Cleathes and Chrysippus, Stoicism became centrally concerned with the
way a person could live morally good life in accord with nature. The emphasis on man's
nature may perhaps have been derived from Crates, but was developed into a more
complete, self-supporting system of thought. For Zeno, impressions from our sense may
either be genuine, or false (i.e. phantasms). Man, however, has the mental ability, using
reason and past knowledge, to assess whether an impression is true or false. For Zeno,
true knowledge is grasped by the mind of man (Cicero Academica 2.145). A true
impression 'is an affection occurring in the soul, which reveals itself and its cause'
(Chrysippus, as cited by Aetius 4.12.2, in Long & Sedly 1988, p237). It is an impression
capable of grasping its object (Long & Sedly 1988, p250). The Stoics developed the idea
that the mind will be able to accord, literally grasp, a true impression, which is not so
much a perception as a cognition. This acceded-to-cognition becomes the criterion of
truth (Diogenes Laertius 7.54). It is a unique human ability, and is the basis for the
creation of a true and systematic body of knowledge, episteme, that is, epistemic and
systematic knowledge. It takes us beyond mere sensations, and beyond mere opinions,
doxa (Long & Sedly 1988, p160). This, of course, goes against the primacy (the reality)
of Universals, or forms, as posited in Platonic thought. For the Stoics, there are no Ideas
in the Platonic sense, instead the mind of men uses concepts (Aetius I.10.5, Stobaeius
I.136-137, in Long & Sedly 1988, p179). The Epicureans attacked this Stoic view,
arguing that impressions could not be true or false, only later judgements concerning
them. The Sceptics in the Academy attacked a different point; they felt that a foolish man
would accede to false impressions, not knowing that he is doing so. The credence-to-
impression would then fail as a criterion for truth (Sextius Empiricus Against the
Professors 7.151-7, in Long & Sedly 1988, pp254-5).

For the Stoics all the matter, the stuff in the universe is imbued and mixed with an
intelligent principle which is called 'god' or 'reason' (Long & Sedly 1988, p7, p273;
Diogenes Laertius 7.134). In other formulations, it is viewed as a kind of divine breath,
pneuma, which is dispersed through the universe, making it a divine, intelligent being,
which may be called Zeus, or the Logos. The Cosmos periodically returns to a purifying
and ethereal state of fire, then recreates itself (Diogenes Laertius 7.137). In this world,
man, though not really free, can find happiness by attempting, in accord with the rational
element in himself, to live in accord with this nature. Distracting passions and false
judgements need to be set aside, and the causal order of the universe has to be discovered
and accepted. This involved the Stoics in the creation of a rigorous dialectical
methodology, and in the creation of a strict code of conduct aimed at decreasing our
unhappiness. Certain things are held to be good; prudence, justice, moderation, courage,
while their opposites are held to be bad and to be avoided. All other issues, wealth,
reputation, death etc., are matters of indifference (Diogenes Laertius 7.101-3), since they
were not direct functions in accord with nature (Cicero On Ends 3.17,20-2, in Long &
Sedly 1988, pp360-1).

The Stoics, it can be seen, had a different view of the world and man's place in it to the
early Cynics. Freedom from suffering and pain, which are decreed by the inexorable
workings of Providence in the divine order, can only be achieved by a proper use of
reason to understand he real limitations of the human condition. The kind of Providence
we are talking about is not the blind working of an unknown Tyche, as we can seen from
Epictetus' (55- c.135 A.D.) view: -

Whenever you find fault with Providence (provoia), only consider and you will
recognize that what happens is in accordance with reasons. 'Yes,' you say, 'but
the wicked man is better of.' In what respect? In money; for in respect to that he
is superior to you, because he flatters, is shameless, lies awake nights. What is
surprising in that? . . . I would have the rest of you always remember, then, and
be ready to apply the following truth: That this is a law of nature for the superior
to have the better of the inferior, in the respect in which he is superior; and then
you will never be indignant. (Epictetus Discourses III.xvii. 1-7).

The best in man is his reason, and perfect reason was held to be 'man's peculiar good'
(Seneca Letters 76.9-10, in Long & Sedly 1988, p395). Man's psyche, by its very nature,
was a fragment of the divine reason, and needed to avoid being entangled with
unnecessary emotions, and not pursue morally indifferent attainments. Nor should we
desire those things which are beyond our control (Epictetus Discourses III.xxiv), but
instead engage in normal human activities in so far as we can without disturbing our soul.
Therefore, under conditions of extreme pain, mutilation, or incurable illness, a wise man
may commit 'a well-reasoned suicide both on behalf of his country and on behalf of his
friends' (Diogenes Laertius 7.130), a doctrine that was probably already known to men
such as Cato, Cassius and Brutus.

These conceptions of the Stoics came under attack by the more sceptical positions taken
in the 'New Academy' by thinkers such as Carneades, who argued that to every
proposition an equal and counter proposition could be generated. Since this was so, the
Stoic conception of the world were uncertain and their ethical formations equally shaky.
Therefore, the wise man should abstain from such judgements, i.e. engage in epoche as
well as ataraxia (literally = freedom from disturbance).

The second major challenge to Stoicism was developed by Epicurus (341-271 B.C.). In
summary, the Epicurean position includes the following features: -

All that has independent existence is body, which is shown to consist of an

infinity of atomic particles, and infinite space, much of it void. Secondary
properties do exist too, but parasitically on these. Our world, like literally
countless others, is the accident and transient product of complex atomic
collisions, with no purposive purpose or origin or structure, no controlling deity.
And the soul, itself a complex atomic conglomerate, perishes with the body. With
these conclusions, physics can eliminate the psychologically crippling fear of
divine intervention in this life and retribution in the next. Cognitive certainty is
attainable through the senses, combined with a set of natural conceptions and
 intuitions. . . . Despite our ultimately atomic construction, we are genuinely
autonomous agents, capable of structuring our own lives in accordance with the
one natural good, pleasure. Epicureanism's means of teaching us to maximize
the pleasantness of life include eliminating fears of the unknown; recognizing the
utility of mutual benefits and non-aggression; and mapping out the natural limits
of pleasure, any attempt to exceed which is merely counterproductive. (Long &
Sedly 1988, pp6-7)

Epicurus and his followers developed a personal philosophy which emphasised the
reasonable satiation of normal human pleasures, shunning both broader political and
social concerns. He developed the atomic theory of Democritus into a materialistic
philosophy in which the existence of gods and the afterlife were both doubted. His school
was situated in 'the Garden' in Athens, but soon spread through the Mediterranean world.
It influenced the Romans from the 2nd century onwards. The philosophical poem by
Lucretius, De Rerum Natura, presents a coherent world-view based on these doctrines.
Nonetheless, Epicureanism, with its strong denial of civic and political virtues, was
generally viewed with suspicion in the later Republic.

3. Personal, Pragmatic and Eclectic

The theories of Zeno and Chrysippus were brought down to a more pragmatic level by
thinkers such as Panaetius and Epictetus in the 1st century A.D. This ethical brand of
Stoicism argued that man could never know or fully understand his personal or collective
fate, and therefore man should cease to strive for worldly or ideal ends, but instead
calmly accept our condition. There is a focus on a certain attitude to life, promoting not
so much desperate, as a tolerance of ourselves and others. Epictetus had once been a
slave and came from Hierapolis (in Phrygia), had lived in Rome was later on expelled by
the emperor Domitian, went on to found a school in Nicopolis (western Greece), and
taught the historian Arrian who published his lectures as the Dissertations (Koester, I,
p354). This patient attitude within Stoicism has flavoured the meaning of the ordinary
meaning of the word 'stoic' in English.

By the time of the early empire, however, the clear-cut divisions between the different
schools had begun to blur. Cicero, for example, was also influenced by Platonic and
Epicurean notions, though in the main turning them towards a more pragmatic version of
Stoic thought (see Pangle 1998). Likewise, Pliny the Younger was influenced by Stoic
conceptions, though he would not be regarded as an adherent of this philosophy (Arnold
1911, p117). As noted by Samuel Dill: -

The marks of demarcation between them [the schools] faded; men were less
inclined to dogmatise, and began to select and combine elements from
discordant schools. In this movement the eclectic and the sceptic had very much
the same object in view - the support and culture of the individual life." (Dill 1919,
p290).

At this time we often finds references to 'philosophy' in a general sense. The repeated
expulsions of philosophers from Rome was aimed at limiting this personal, anti-
authoritarian stance, rather than any particular school or creed. Also, there was a fear that
they would corrupt the gullible, i.e. especially Roman women and the young.

Likewise, the distinction between Stoic and Cynic became somewhat difficult at this
time. The Cynic in part can be distinguished by his social role: a poor, wandering figure
haranguing plebeians and emperors alike, using vehement language and actions to make
his point. Such a social image does not apply to all Cynics, however. The cultured
Demetrius, who discoursed with Thrasea, made eloquent criticism of both the emperors
Nero and Vespasian. Indeed, Dudley argues that during the first century the Stoic and
Cynic philosophers were 'practically indistinguishable, alike in their rationale and their
propaganda' (Dudley 1937, p137). Therefore, the term 'Stoic opposition', which has been
used to posit an active opposition to the corruption of social and political power in the
hands of dominant men in Roman affairs, which began as early as the time of Julius
Caesar, should be replaced with the more accurate notion of a broader 'philosophical
opposition'.

4. The Just Ruler

Stoic theory had earlier on favoured the notion of a mixed constitution as the best form of
government, as indeed, Panaetius had regarded the Roman Republic. Thus Cicero hard
argued that the victories of the Roman people were at first maintained by their justice and
excellence: -

. . . the truth is that as long as the empire of the Roman people was maintained
through acts of beneficence rather than injustices, wars were waged either on
behalf of allies or for the empire, wars were terminated with clemency or only the
necessary harshness, our senate was a refuge for kings, populaces, and nations,
our magistrates and rulers strove to win glory only from the equitable and faithful
defense of provinces and allies; and thus our rule could more truly be called a
paternal protectorate of the entire earth rathe than an empire. This policy and
discipline declined gradually, and in truth after Sulla's victory we abandoned it.
(Cicero On Duties 2.26-28, in Pangle 1998, p256).

In the later period, however, the consensus shifted generally towards the idea that the
monarchy of a just king was the best type of government. In this light, we can find a
'Stoic' such as Seneca (the younger, 4 B.C. - A.D. 65) supporting one man rule in his De
Clementia. Addressing the young emperor Nero, Seneca argues: -

For he is the bond by which the commonwealth is united, the breath of life which
these many thousands draw, who in their own strength would be only a burden to
themselves and the prey of others if the great mind of the empire should be
withdrawn . . . Such a calamity would be the destruction of the Roman peace,
such a calamity will force the fortune of a might person to its downfall. (De
Clementia, I.4.1)

It must be emphasised that this statement was made in hindsight, after the series of
dangerous wars, starting with Sulla, had culminated in the even more severe conflict
between Octavian and Mark Antony. Public recognition of the relative peace under the
rule of Augustus, and even under lesser leaders such as the emperors Tiberius, Caligula
and Claudius, should not be under-estimated. This concept of the best and highest leader
is discussed in relation to an original state of nature in one of Seneca's letters: -

But the first men and those who sprang from them, still unspoiled, followed
nature, having one man as both their leader and their law, entrusting themselves
to the control of one better than themselves. For nature has the habit of
subjecting the weaker to the stronger . . . (Seneca Epistle xc).

Seneca here repeats the fairly common notion of the original and just king, ruling by
consensus and for the common good. These ideas were promoted as models by Seneca,
and later on by Dio Chrysostom, who had been expelled from Rome by Domitian, but
was later on recalled and tried to influence the emperor Trajan, circa 104 A.D.(Dio
Chrysostom Second Discourse on Kingship 71-2; Koester I, p358).

Epictetus, who himself had been a slave and was then freed, was perhaps among
contemporary Stoics the most critical of the Imperial system (Millar 1965, pp143-7),
arguing that there was no substantial difference between a slave and emperor if both their
souls were in bondage. He was, however, willing to admit that emperors had a place in
maintaining the worldly order: -

Do you philosophers, then, teach us to despise our kings? - Far from it. Who
among us teaches you to dispute their claim to things over which they have
authority? (Epictetus Discourses I,xxix, 9-10).

At first glance, then, it seems surprising that Stoics and other philosophers of this period
would form an opposition to the Principate as developed by Augustus. However, the
apparent later support for kingship was limited by a number of factors. First, the ruler
must have the highest moral values, being not only the most powerful, but the best of
men. Seneca in his letter continues: -

. . . among men, the best is regarded as the highest. That is why it was to the
mind that a ruler was assigned; and for that reason the greatest happiness rested
with those peoples among whom a man could not be more powerful unless he
were the better. (Seneca Epistles xc, 4)

Likewise, Dio Chrysostom's First Discourse concludes with a tale comparing the
difference between the 'Peak Royal' and the 'Peak Tyrannous' which 'appear to be
practically one and undivided, inasmuch as they are seen from a distance . . . " (First
Discourse on Kingships 68).

The Stoics, then, could only support one-man rule or the Principate in so far as it lived up
to these ideals or they could try to influence it to do so. This seems to have been one of
the points of difference between an unbending figure such as Cato, who had never
accepted the dominance of Caesar, and other figures such as Cicero and Brutus. Cicero,
certainly, had hoped to influence Caesar, first by his notion of the concordia ordinum,
and secondly is his pleas for a truly benign rule based on clementia and wisdom. Brutus,
too, in his association with Caesar's government as praetor, was willing to help govern
the Roman state under Caesar, but perhaps soon felt that the man's pride and dominance
were too great. Since Caesar was neither the wise 'Stoic' ruler, nor could be readily
influenced, opposition was the only resort left. The motivations for killing Caesar, were
of, course, only to a small degree based on such philosophical doctrines, but were based
on need for Roman elites to have competitive access to high office. Caesar's death,
however, neither restored the free working Republic, nor brought more noble leaders into
power.

Similar comparisons can be made in attitudes to the emperor Nero. The philosopher and
writer Seneca had been a tutor of the young Nero before he became emperor, and then,
along with Burrus (commander of the Praetorian guard), became one of his main
ministers in government. Seneca's De Clementia is a powerful appeal to Nero to use his
power with mercy, but it highlights the concept that the power of the Princeps was
limited only by the ruler's self-restraint. The 'philosophical director' can only try to
influence such a ruler; in this view neither direct opposition or coercion are workable
alternatives. Earlier Stoic theory, as represent in the De Officiis of Cicero (see Griffin
1976, p343), regarded public office as a service to fellow men, a duty which can only be
avoided on certain grounds. Seneca also, in his letter 105, also states that a 'philosopher
should not dissociate himself from the usages and customs of the Society' (see Wistrand
1979, p96). Yet Seneca soon found that he wished to withdraw from this public role. His
attempts to influence the young emperor soon became ineffective, as Nero's murder of his
own mother, Agrippina, indicates. Seneca went so far as to actually help write Nero's
hypocritical speech to the Senate, describing Agrippina's treasonous attempt to murder
him (Tacitus Annals xiv.44), This shows how far Seneca himself was unable to live up to
his own ideals, let lone to guide Nero to those ideals. In his later work, the De Otio,
Seneca argues that if the State is (morally) destroyed and beyond salvation, the Sage
should not risk himself in vain (Wistranda 1979, p99). In 65 A.D., Seneca would commit
suicide upon the orders of Nero, who resented his withdrawal, was envious of Seneca's
great wealth, and suspected him of treachery.

A different approach was that of the senator Thrasea Paetus, who was a follower of Stoic
doctrines. Upon hearing Nero's speech on the death of Agrippina, this Thrasea 'who had
been used to pass over previous flatteries in silence or with brief assent, then walked out
of the Senate, thereby imperilling himself, without communicating to the other Senators
any impulse towards freedom.' (Tacitus Annals xiv, 12). Thrasea, however, was not
allowed to retire in peace. His withdrawal was taken as criticism. Since Thrasea
apparently did not enter the Senate for three years, and did not take the oath of allegiance
to the Princeps, (Tacitus Annals xvi, 22), he began to be attacked in the Senate. A certain
Marcellus made these accusations: -

I miss the presence of an ex-consul in the Senate, of a priest when we offer our
vows, of a citizens when we swear obedience, unless indeed . . . Thrasea has
openly assumed the part of a traitor and an enemy. In a word, let the man, wont
to act the senator and to screen those who disparage the prince, come among
us; let him propose any reform or change he may desire. (Tacitus Annals xvi.28).

This withdrawal and silence was treated as treasonous, just as would the silence of Sir
Thomas in relation to Henry VIII's marriage and the creation of the Church of England in
another age. We have reached a rather difficult stage, where in spite of the wishes of a
philosopher, Cicero was perhaps correct to argue that "The Sage never stays outside of
politics" (in Wistrand 1979, p98). Both Thrasea and Seneca may have been killed
because their prestige meant that their philosophical attitudes had direct political
repercussions.

Although the later Stoics admired 'Republican' exemplars such as Cato, this does not
mean that were agitating for a direct return to the Republic. Indeed, a leader such as
Augustus was quite willing to promote himself as a promoter of the Republic, while the
later emperor Trajan was happy to issue 'restored' republican coinage glorifying Brutus
the tyrannicide (Toynbee 1944, p45). The Principate borrowed the ideology of the
Republic and later on of Stoicism for its own propaganda purposes.

However, the resistance to emperors did go beyond moral grounds in the case of a certain
Helvidius Priscus, who refused to acknowledge even the benign emperor Vespasian by
his imperial titles, and during Priscus' praetorship left the emperor 'unhonoured and
unmentioned in all his edicts' (Suetonius Vespasian xv). Priscus, however, was seeking to
have those who had informed on Thrasea, his father-in-law, condemned, but this move
had been crushed by an amnesty (Dudley 1937, p135). Indeed, this may have been a more
general move to find some solidarity in the Senate against sycophant prosecutors, perhaps
aiming at a more active and revived Senate. Vespasian, it turn, only expelled the Cynic
Demetrius, who accosted and insulted him publicly (Dio Cassius, lxv, 13; see Suetonius
Vespasian). At a later date we find the emperor Domitian killing the Stoic adherents
Junius Rusticus and Herennius Senecio because they wrote in praise of Thrasea and
Priscus, and later on banishing all philosophers from Rome and Italy (Suetonius
Domitian, viii, 2-4).

At this stage we might note that the theory of the Principate did not yet readily equate
with the term 'kingship'. While relying on the support of the Praetorian guard and
provincial armies, the emperors still called upon Republican fictions to bolster claims to
their unique dignitas and auctoritas. The coins of these emperors regularly include
references to consular, proconsular and tribunician powers. Nor was the issue of the
succession assured in the early Principate. Although emperors such as Augustus might
wish their descendants to follow them, this could be only done by pushing their
nominated relative through republican offices, by establishing their command of armies,
by allocating them the power of republican institutions, and building up a body of real
support for them. In fact none of the first five emperors was followed by their sons.
Usually, the best (or available) person within the 'imperial' family was chosen, in the case
of Claudius, nominated by the Praetorian guard.

During the 1st centuries B.C. and A.D. any moral attack on great Roman leaders was also
a political attack, directly undermining their prestige and therefore their dignitas. This
was an age where charisma remained an important issue in maintaining stable rule. This
is well known in the attempt of figures such as Julius Caesar and Augustus to build up
their prestige through religious offices and other honours. Caesar's clementia, the special
religious honours granted to him while alive, his posthumous divine status, Octavian's
new title of Augustus, were all aimed at increasing the prestige and authority of these
men. These aspects were more emphasised in the imperial cults of the east, but turn full
circle with the exceptional divinisation of Caligula within his life-time. The following
emperors step back from this position, but in turn they accept something of a
philosophical interpretation of their rule. We find Pliny making the following Panegyric
to the emperor Trajan: -

It is therefore with increased confidence . . . that I make this my earnest prayer: 'If
he rules the State well and in the interests of all,' first preserve him for our
grandsons and great-grandsons, then grant him one day a successor born of him
in the image of the adopted son he is, or if fate denies him this, guide and direct
his choice to someone worthy to be adopted in your temple on the Capitol. (Pliny
Panegyric 94.5).

Such a prayer, though concerned with the contiguity of peaceful imperial rule, also is
conditional upon good rule being in the interests of all. This is compatible with Stoic
notions of governance as the greatest service, and also implies some kind of moral
contract between the ruler and his subjects. Of course, this 'settlement' between
philosophy and political power may have involved a trade-off between a positive libertas
and the benefits of peace. The philosophical opposition, when not trying to influence the
Princeps towards better rule, seems to have been a movement of protest, rather than a
revolutionary tradition. Likewise, Roman political thought was more comfortable with
the promotion of a mores-based Republic or kingship, rather than a truly universal,
cosmopolitan world order (see Pangle 1998).