No More Learning

as well as these:--

If this be God's will, so let it be!

Why should he not speak boldly unto his own brethren, unto his
children--in a word, unto all that are akin to him!




CXX

Does a Philosopher apply to people to come and hear him? does he not
rather, of his own nature, attract those that will be benefited
by him--like the sun that warms, the food that sustains them? What
Physician applies to men to come and be healed? (Though indeed I hear
that the Physicians at Rome do nowadays apply for patients--in my time
they were applied to. ) I apply to you to come and hear that you are in
evil case; that what deserves your attention most is the last thing to
gain it; that you know not good from evil, and are in short a hapless
wretch; a fine way to apply! though unless the words of the Philosopher
affect you thus, speaker and speech are alike dead.




CXXI

A Philosopher's school is a Surgery: pain, not pleasure, you should have
felt therein. For on entering none of you is whole. One has a shoulder
out of joint, another an abscess: a third suffers from an issue, a
fourth from pains in the head. And am I then to sit down and treat you
to pretty sentiments and empty flourishes, so that you may applaud me
and depart, with neither shoulder, nor head, nor issue, nor abscess a
whit the better for your visit? Is it then for this that young men are
to quit their homes, and leave parents, friends, kinsmen and substance
to mouth out Bravo to your empty phrases!




CXXII

If any be unhappy, let him remember that he is unhappy by reason of
himself alone. For God hath made all men to enjoy felicity and constancy
of good.




CXXIII

Shall we never wean ourselves--shall we never heed the teachings of
Philosophy (unless perchance they have been sounding in our ears like
an enchanter's drone):--

This World is one great City, and one is the substance whereof it is
fashioned: a certain period indeed there needs must be, while these give
place to those; some must perish for others to succeed; some move and
some abide: yet all is full of friends--first God, then Men, whom Nature
hath bound by ties of kindred each to each.




CXXIV

Nor did the hero weep and lament at leaving his children orphans. For he
knew that no man is an orphan, but it is the Father that careth for all
continually and for evermore. Not by mere report had he heard that
the Supreme God is the Father of men: seeing that he called Him Father
believing Him so to be, and in all that he did had ever his eyes fixed
upon Him. Wherefore in whatsoever place he was, there is was given him
to live happily.




CXXV

Know you not that the thing is a warfare? one man's duty is to mount
guard, another must go out to reconnoitre, a third to battle; all cannot
be in one place, nor would it even be expedient. But you, instead of
executing you Commander's orders, complain if aught harsher than usual
is enjoined; not understanding to what condition you are bringing the
army, so far as in you lies. If all were to follow your example, none
would dig a trench, none would cast a rampart around the camp, none
would keep watch, or expose himself to danger; but all turn out useless
for the service of war. . . . Thus it is here also. Every life is a
warfare, and that long and various. You must fulfil a soldier's duty,
and obey each order at your commander's nod: aye, if it be possible,
divine what he would have done; for between that Command and this, there
is no comparison, either in might or in excellence.

CXXVI

Have you again forgotten? Know you not that a good man does nothing for
appearance' sake, but for the sake of having done right? . . .

"Is there no reward then? "

Reward! do you seek any greater reward for a good man than doing what is
right and just? Yet at the Great Games you look for nothing else; there
the victor's crown you deem enough. Seems it to you so small a thing and
worthless, to be a good man, and happy therein?




CXXVII

It befits thee not to be unhappy by reason of any, but rather to be
happy by reason of all men, and especially by reason of God, who formed
us to this end.




CXXVIII

What, did Diogenes love no man, he that was so gentle, so true a friend
to men as cheerfully to endure such bodily hardships for the common
weal of all mankind? But how loved he them? As behoved a minister of the
Supreme God, alike caring for men and subject unto God.




CXXIX

I am by Nature made for my own good; not for my own evil.




CXXX

Remind thyself that he whom thou lovest is mortal--that what thou lovest
is not thine own; it is given thee for the present, not irrevocably nor
for ever, but even as a fig or a bunch of grapes at the appointed season
of the year. . . .

"But these are words of evil omen. ". . .

What, callest thou aught of evil omen save that which signifies some
evil thing? Cowardice is a word of evil omen, if thou wilt, and meanness
of spirit, and lamentation and mourning, and shamelessness. . . .

But do not, I pray thee, call of evil omen a word that is significant of
any natural thing:--as well call of evil omen the reaping of the corn;
for that means the destruction of the ears, though not of the World! --as
well say that the fall of the leaf is of evil omen; that the dried fig
should take the place of the green; that raisins should be made from
grapes. All these are changes from a former state into another; not
destruction, but an ordered economy, a fixed administration. Such
is leaving home, a change of small account; such is Death, a greater
change, from what now is, not to what is not, but to what is not now.

"Shall I then no longer be? "

Not so; thou wilt be; but something different, of which the World now
hath need. For thou too wert born not when thou chosest, but when the
World had need of thee.




CXXXI

Wherefore a good man and true, bearing in mind who he is and whence he
came and from whom he sprang, cares only how he may fill his post with
due discipline and obedience to God.

Wilt thou that I continue to live? Then will I live, as one that is
free and noble, as Thou wouldst have me. For Thou hast made me free from
hindrance in what appertaineth unto me. But hast Thou no further need
of me? I thank Thee! Up to this hour have I stayed for Thy sake and none
other's: and now in obedience to Thee I depart.

"How dost thou depart? "

Again I say, as Thou wouldst have me; as one that is free, as Thy
servant, as one whose ear is open unto what Thou dost enjoin, what Thou
dost forbid.




CXXXII

Whatsoever place or post Thou assignest me, sooner will I die a thousand
deaths, as Socrates said, than desert it. And where wilt Thou have me to
be? At Rome or Athens? At Thebes or on a desert island? Only remember me
there! Shouldst Thou send me where man cannot live as Nature would have
him, I will depart, not in disobedience to Thee, but as though Thou wert
sounding the signal for my retreat: I am not deserting Thee--far be that
from me! I only perceive that thou needest me no longer.




CXXXIII

If you are in Gyaros, do not let your mind dwell upon life at Rome,
and all the pleasures it offered to you when living there, and all that
would attend your return. Rather be intent on this--how he that lives in
Gyaros may live in Gyaros like a man of spirit. And if you are at Rome,
do not let your mind dwell upon the life at Athens, but study only how
to live at Rome.

Finally, in the room of all other pleasures put this--the pleasure which
springs from conscious obedience to God.




CXXXIV

To a good man there is no evil, either in life or death. And if God
supply not food, has He not, as a wise Commander, sounded the signal
for retreat and nothing more? I obey, I follow--speaking good of my
Commander, and praising His acts. For at His good pleasure I came; and I
depart when it pleases Him; and while I was yet alive that was my work,
to sing praises unto God!




CXXXV

Reflect that the chief source of all evils to Man, and of baseness and
cowardice, is not death, but the fear of death.

Against this fear then, I pray you, harden yourself; to this let all
your reasonings, your exercises, your reading tend. Then shall you know
that thus alone are men set free.




CXXXVI

He is free who lives as he wishes to live; to whom none can do violence,
none hinder or compel; whose impulses are unimpeded, whose desires are
attain their purpose, who falls not into what he would avoid. Who then
would live in error? --None. Who would live deceived and prone to fall,
unjust, intemperate, in abject whining at his lot? --None. Then doth no
wicked man live as he would, and therefore neither is he free.




CXXXVII

Thus do the more cautious of travellers act. The road is said to be
beset by robbers. The traveller will not venture alone, but awaits the
companionship on the road of an ambassador, a quaestor or a proconsul.
To him he attaches himself and thus passes by in safety. So doth the
wise man in the world. Many are the companies of robbers and tyrants,
many the storms, the straits, the losses of all a man holds dearest.
Whither shall he fall for refuge--how shall he pass by unassailed? What
companion on the road shall he await for protection? Such and such a
wealthy man, of consular rank? And how shall I be profited, if he
is stripped and falls to lamentation and weeping? And how if my
fellow-traveller himself turns upon me and robs me? What am I to do? I
will become a friend of Caesar's! in his train none will do me wrong! In
the first place--O the indignities I must endure to win distinction! O
the multitude of hands there will be to rob me! And if I succeed, Caesar
too is but a mortal. While should it come to pass that I offend him,
whither shall I flee from his presence? To the wilderness? And may not
fever await me there? What then is to be done? Cannot a fellow-traveller
be found that is honest and loyal, strong and secure against surprise?
Thus doth the wise man reason, considering that if he would pass through
in safety, he must attach himself unto God.




CXXXVIII

"How understandest thou attach himself to God? "

That what God wills, he should will also; that what God wills not,
neither should he will.

"How then may this come to pass? "

By considering the movements of God, and His administration.




CXXXIX

And dost thou that hast received all from another's hands, repine and
blame the Giver, if He takes anything from thee? Why, who art thou, and
to what end comest thou here? was it not He that made the Light manifest
unto thee, that gave thee fellow-workers, and senses, and the power to
reason? And how brought He thee into the world? Was it not as one
born to die; as one bound to live out his earthly life in some small
tabernacle of flesh; to behold His administration, and for a little
while share with Him in the mighty march of this great Festival
Procession? Now therefore that thou hast beheld, while it was permitted
thee, the Solemn Feast and Assembly, wilt thou not cheerfully depart,
when He summons thee forth, with adoration and thanksgiving for what
thou hast seen and heard? --"Nay, but I would fain have stayed longer at
the Festival. "--Ah, so would the mystics fain have the rites prolonged;
so perchance would the crowd at the Great Games fain behold more
wrestlers still. But the Solemn Assembly is over! Come forth, depart
with thanksgiving and modesty--give place to others that must come into
being even as thyself.




CXL

Why art thou thus insatiable? why thus unreasonable? why encumber
the world? --"Aye, but I fain would have my wife and children with me
too. "--What, are they then thine, and not His that gave them--His that
made thee? Give up then that which is not thine own: yield it to One who
is better than thou. "Nay, but why did He bring one into the world on
these conditions? "--If it suits thee not, depart! He hath no need of a
spectator who finds fault with his lot! Them that will take part in the
Feast he needeth--that will lift their voices with the rest that men
may applaud the more, and exalt the Great Assembly in hymns and songs
of praise. But the wretched and the fearful He will not be displeased to
see absent from it: for when they were present, they did not behave
as at a Feast, nor fulfil their proper office; but moaned as though
in pain, and found fault with their fate, their fortune and their
companions; insensible to what had fallen to their lot, insensible to
the powers they had received for a very different purpose--the powers of
Magnanimity, Nobility of Heart, of Fortitude, or Freedom!




CXLI

Art thou then free? a man may say. So help me heaven, I long and pray
for freedom! But I cannot look my masters boldly in the face; I still
value the poor body; I still set much store on its preservation whole
and sound.

But I can point thee out a free man, that thou mayest be no more in
search of an example. Diogenes was free. How so? Not because he was of
free parentage (for that, indeed, was not the case), but because he was
himself free. He had cast away every handle whereby slavery might lay
hold of him to enslave him, nor was it possible for any to approach
and take hold of him to enslave him. All things sat loose upon him--all
things were to him attached by but slender ties. Hadst thou seized upon
his possessions, he would rather have let them go than have followed
thee for them--aye, had it been even a limb, or mayhap his whole body;
and in like manner, relatives, friends, and country. For he knew whence
they came--from whose hands and on what terms he had received them.
His true forefathers, the Gods, his true Country, he never would
have abandoned; nor would he have yielded to any man in obedience and
submission to the one nor in cheerfully dying for the other. For he
was ever mindful that everything that comes to pass has its source and
origin there; being indeed brought about for the weal of that his true
Country, and directed by Him in whose governance it is.




CXLII

Ponder on this--on these convictions, on these words: fix thine eyes on
these examples, if thou wouldst be free, if thou hast thine heart set
upon the matter according to its worth. And what marvel if thou purchase
so great a thing at so great and high a price? For the sake of this that
men deem liberty, some hang themselves, others cast themselves down from
the rock; aye, time has been when whole cities came utterly to an end:
while for the sake of Freedom that is true, and sure, and unassailable,
dost thou grudge to God what He gave, when He claims it? Wilt thou not
study, as Plato saith, to endure, not death alone, but torture, exile,
stripes--in a word, to render up all that is not thine own? Else thou
wilt be a slave amid slaves, wert thou ten thousand times a consul; aye,
not a whit the less, though thou climb the Palace steps. And thou
shalt know how true the saying of Cleanthes, that though the words of
philosophers may run counter to the opinions of the world, yet have they
reason on their side.




CXLIII

Asked how a man should best grieve his enemy, Epictetus replied, "By
setting himself to live the noblest life himself. "




CXLIV

I am free, I am a friend of God, ready to render Him willing obedience.
Of all else I may set store by nothing--neither by mine own body, nor
possessions, nor office, nor good report, nor, in a word, aught else
beside. For it is not His Will, that I should so set store by these
things. Had it been His pleasure, He would have placed my Good therein.
But now He hath not done so: therefore I cannot transgress one jot of
His commands. In everything hold fast to that which is thy Good--but to
all else (as far as is given thee) within the measure of Reason only,
contented with this alone. Else thou wilt meet with failure, ill
success, let and hindrance. These are the Laws ordained of God--these
are His Edicts; these a man should expound and interpret; to these
submit himself, not to the laws of Masurius and Cassius.




CXLV

Remember that not the love of power and wealth sets us under the heel
of others, but even the love of tranquillity, of leisure, of change of
scene--of learning in general, it matters not what the outward thing
may be--to set store by it is to place thyself in subjection to another.
Where is the difference then between desiring to be a Senator, and
desiring not to be one: between thirsting for office and thirsting to
be quit of it? Where is the difference between crying, Woe is me, I know
not what to do, bound hand and foot as I am to my books so that I cannot
stir! and crying, Woe is me, I have not time to read! As though a book
were not as much an outward thing and independent of the will, as office
and power and the receptions of the great.

Or what reason hast thou (tell me) for desiring to read? For if thou
aim at nothing beyond the mere delight of it, or gaining some scrap of
knowledge, thou art but a poor, spiritless knave. But if thou desirest
to study to its proper end, what else is this than a life that flows on
tranquil and serene? And if thy reading secures thee not serenity, what
profits it? --"Nay, but it doth secure it," quoth he, "and that is why I
repine at being deprived of it. "--And what serenity is this that lies at
the mercy of every passer-by? I say not at the mercy of the Emperor or
Emperor's favorite, but such as trembles at a raven's croak and piper's
din, a fever's touch or a thousand things of like sort! Whereas the
life serene has no more certain mark than this, that it ever moves with
constant unimpeded flow.




CXLVI

If thou hast put malice and evil speaking from thee, altogether, or
in some degree: if thou hast put away from thee rashness, foulness of
tongue, intemperance, sluggishness: if thou art not moved by what once
moved thee, or in like manner as thou once wert moved--then thou mayest
celebrate a daily festival, to-day because thou hast done well in this
manner, to-morrow in that. How much greater cause is here for offering
sacrifice, than if a man should become Consul or Prefect?




CXLVII

These things hast thou from thyself and from the Gods: only remember who
it is that giveth them--to whom and for what purpose they were given.
Feeding thy soul on thoughts like these, dost thou debate in what place
happiness awaits thee? in what place thou shalt do God's pleasure?
Are not the Gods nigh unto all places alike; see they not alike what
everywhere comes to pass?




CXLVIII

To each man God hath granted this inward freedom. These are the
principles that in a house create love, in a city concord, among nations
peace, teaching a man gratitude towards God and cheerful confidence,
wherever he may be, in dealing with outward things that he knows are
neither his nor worth striving after.




CXLIX

If you seek Truth, you will not seek to gain a victory by every possible
means; and when you have found Truth, you need not fear being defeated.




CL

What foolish talk is this? how can I any longer lay claim to right
principles, if I am not content with being what I am, but am all
aflutter about what I am supposed to be?




CLI

God hath made all things in the world, nay, the world itself, free from
hindrance and perfect, and its parts for the use of the whole.
No other
creature is capable of comprehending His administration thereof; but the
reasonable being Man possesses faculties for the consideration of all
these things--not only that he is himself a part, but what part he is,
and how it is meet that the parts should give place to the whole. Nor is
this all. Being naturally constituted noble, magnanimous, and free, he
sees that the things which surround him are of two kinds. Some are
free from hindrance and in the power of the will. Other are subject to
hindrance, and depend on the will of other men. If then he place his own
good, his own best interest, only in that which is free from hindrance
and in his power, he will be free, tranquil, happy, unharmed,
noble-hearted, and pious; giving thanks to all things unto God,
finding fault with nothing that comes to pass, laying no charge against
anything. Whereas if he place his good in outward things, depending not
on the will, he must perforce be subject to hindrance and restraint, the
slave of those that have power over the things he desires and fears;
he must perforce be impious, as deeming himself injured at the hands
of God; he must be unjust, as ever prone to claim more than his due; he
must perforce be of a mean and abject spirit.




CLII

Whom then shall I fear? the lords of the Bedchamber, lest they should
shut me out? If they find me desirous of entering in, let them shut me
out, if they will.

"Then why comest thou to the door? "

Because I think it meet and right, so long as the Play lasts, to take
part therein.

"In what sense art thou then shut out? "

Because, unless I am admitted, it is not my will to enter: on the
contrary, my will is simply that which comes to pass. For I esteem what
God wills better than what I will. To Him will I cleave as His minister
and attendant; having the same movements, the same desires, in a word
the same Will as He. There is no such thing as being shut out for me,
but only for them that would force their way in.




CLIII

But what says Socrates? --"One man finds pleasure in improving his land,
another his horses. My pleasure lies in seeing that I myself grow better
day by day. "




CLIV

The dress is suited to the craft; the craftsman takes his name from
the craft, not from the dress. For this reason Euphrates was right in
saying, "I long endeavoured to conceal my following the philosophic
life; and this profited me much. In the first place, I knew that what I
did aright, I did not for the sake of lookers-on, but for my own. I
ate aright--unto myself; I kept the even tenor of my walk, my glance
composed and serene--all unto myself and unto God. Then as I fought
alone, I was alone in peril. If I did anything amiss or shameful,
the cause of Philosophy was not in me endangered; nor did I wrong the
multitude by transgressing as a professed philosopher. Wherefore those
that knew not my purpose marvelled how it came about, that whilst all my
life and conversation was passed with philosophers without exception, I
was yet none myself. And what harm that the philosopher should be known
by his acts, instead of mere outward signs and symbols? "




CLV

First study to conceal what thou art; seek wisdom a little while unto
thyself. Thus grows the fruit; first, the seed must be buried in the
earth for a little space; there it must be hid and slowly grow, that it
may reach maturity. But if it produce the ear before the jointed stalk,
it is imperfect--a thing from the garden of Adonis. Such a sorry growth
art thou; thou hast blossomed too soon: the winter cold will wither thee
away!




CLVI

First of all, condemn the life thou art now leading: but when thou
hast condemned it, do not despair of thyself--be not like them of mean
spirit, who once they have yielded, abandon themselves entirely and
as it were allow the torrent to sweep them away. No; learn what the
wrestling masters do. Has the boy fallen? "Rise," they say, "wrestle
again, till thy strength come to thee. " Even thus should it be with
thee. For know that there is nothing more tractable than the human soul.
It needs but to will, and the thing is done; the soul is set upon the
right path: as on the contrary it needs but to nod over the task, and
all is lost. For ruin and recovery alike are from within.




CLVII

It is the critical moment that shows the man. So when the crisis is upon
you, remember that God, like a trainer of wrestlers, has matched you
with a rough and stalwart antagonist. --"To what end? " you ask. That you
may prove the victor at the Great Games. Yet without toil and sweat this
may not be!




CLVIII

If thou wouldst make progress, be content to seem foolish and void of
understanding with respect to outward things. Care not to be thought to
know anything. If any should make account of thee, distrust thyself.




CLIX

Remember that in life thou shouldst order thy conduct as at a banquet.
Has any dish that is being served reached thee? Stretch forth thy hand
and help thyself modestly. Doth it pass thee by? Seek not to detain
it. Has it not yet come? Send not forth thy desire to meet it, but wait
until it reaches thee. Deal thus with children, thus with wife; thus
with office, thus with wealth--and one day thou wilt be meet to share
the Banquets of the Gods. But if thou dost not so much as touch that
which is placed before thee, but despisest it, then shalt thou not only
share the Banquets of the Gods, but their Empire also.




CLX

Remember that thou art an actor in a play, and of such sort as the
Author chooses, whether long or short. If it be his good pleasure to
assign thee the part of a beggar, a ruler, or a simple citizen, thine it
is to play it fitly. For thy business is to act the part assigned thee,
well: to choose it, is another's.




CLXI

Keep death and exile daily before thine eyes, with all else that men
deem terrible, but more especially Death. Then wilt thou never think a
mean though, nor covet anything beyond measure.




CLXII

As a mark is not set up in order to be missed, so neither is such a
thing as natural evil produced in the World.




CLXIII

Piety toward the Gods, to be sure, consists chiefly in thinking rightly
concerning them--that they are, and that they govern the Universe with
goodness and justice; and that thou thyself art appointed to obey them,
and to submit under all circumstances that arise; acquiescing cheerfully
in whatever may happen, sure it is brought to pass and accomplished by
the most Perfect Understanding. Thus thou wilt never find fault with the
Gods, nor charge them with neglecting thee.




CLXIV

Lose no time in setting before you a certain stamp of character and
behaviour both when by yourself and in company with others. Let silence
be your general rule; or say only what is necessary and in few words. We
shall, however, when occasion demands, enter into discourse sparingly.
avoiding common topics as gladiators, horse-races, athletes; and
the perpetual talk about food and drink. Above all avoid speaking of
persons, either in way of praise or blame, or comparison.

If you can, win over the conversation of your company to what it should
be by your own. But if you find yourself cut off without escape among
strangers and aliens, be silent.




CLXV

Laughter should not be much, nor frequent, nor unrestrained.




CLXVI

Refuse altogether to take an oath if you can, if not, as far as may be.




CLXVII

Banquets of the unlearned and of them that are without, avoid. But
if you have occasion to take part in them, let not your attention be
relaxed for a moment, lest you slip after all into evil ways. For you
may rest assured that be a man ever so pure himself, he cannot escape
defilement if his associates are impure.




CLXVIII

Take what relates to the body as far as the bare use warrants--as meat,
drink, raiment, house and servants. But all that makes for show and
luxury reject.




CLXIX

If you are told that such an one speaks ill of you, make no defence
against what was said, but answer, He surely knew not my other faults,
else he would not have mentioned these only!




CLXX

When you visit any of those in power, bethink yourself that you will not
find him in: that you may not be admitted: that the door may be shut in
your face: that he may not concern himself about you. If with all this,
it is your duty to go, bear what happens, and never say to yourself,
It was not worth the trouble! For that would smack of the foolish and
unlearned who suffer outward things to touch them.




CLXXI

In company avoid frequent and undue talk about your own actions and
dangers. However pleasant it may be to you to enlarge upon the risks
you have run, others may not find such pleasure in listening to your
adventures. Avoid provoking laughter also: it is a habit from which
one easily slides into the ways of the foolish, and apt to diminish the
respect which your neighbors feel for you. To border on coarse talk is
also dangerous. On such occasions, if a convenient opportunity offer,
rebuke the speaker. If not, at least by relapsing into silence,
colouring, and looking annoyed, show that you are displeased with the
subject.




CLXXII

When you have decided that a thing ought to be done, and are doing it,
never shun being seen doing it, even though the multitude should be
likely to judge the matter amiss. For if you are not acting rightly,
shun the act itself; if rightly, however, why fear misplaced censure?




CLXXIII

It stamps a man of mean capacity to spend much time on the things of the
body, as to be long over bodily exercises, long over eating, long over
drinking, long over other bodily functions. Rather should these
things take the second place, while all your care is directed to the
understanding.




CLXXIV

Everything has two handles, one by which it may be borne, the other by
which it may not. If your brother sin against you lay not hold of it by
the handle of injustice, for by that it may not be borne: but rather by
this, that he is your brother, the comrade of your youth; and thus you
will lay hold on it so that it may be borne.




CLXXV

Never call yourself a Philosopher nor talk much among the unlearned
about Principles, but do that which follows from them. Thus at a
banquet, do not discuss how people ought to eat; but eat as you ought.
Remember that Socrates thus entirely avoided ostentation. Men would come
to him desiring to be recommended to philosophers, and he would conduct
them thither himself--so well did he bear being overlooked. Accordingly
if any talk concerning principles should arise among the unlearned, be
you for the most part silent. For you run great risk of spewing up what
you have ill digested. And when a man tells you that you know nothing
and you are not nettled at it, then you may be sure that you have begun
the work.




CLXXVI

When you have brought yourself to supply the needs of the body at small
cost, do not pique yourself on that, nor if you drink only water, keep
saying on each occasion, I drink water! And if you ever want to practise
endurance and toil, do so unto yourself and not unto others--do not
embrace statues!




CLXXVII

When a man prides himself on being able to understand and interpret the
writings of Chrysippus, say to yourself:--

If Chrysippus had not written obscurely, this fellow would have had
nothing to be proud of. But what is it that I desire? To understand
Nature, and to follow her! Accordingly I ask who is the Interpreter.
On hearing that it is Chrysippus, I go to him. But it seems I do not
understand what he wrote. So I seek one to interpret that. So far there
is nothing to pride myself on. But when I have found my interpreter,
what remains is to put in practice his instructions. This itself is the
only thing to be proud of. But if I admire the interpretation and that
alone, what else have I turned out but a mere commentator instead of
a lover of wisdom? --except indeed that I happen to be interpreting
Chrysippus instead of Homer. So when any one says to me, Prithee, read
me Chrysippus, I am more inclined to blush, when I cannot show my deeds
to be in harmony and accordance with his sayings.




CLXXVIII

At feasts, remember that you are entertaining two guests, body and soul.
What you give to the body, you presently lose; what you give to the
soul, you keep for ever.




CLXXIX

At meals, see to it that those who serve be not more in number than
those who are served. It is absurd for a crowd of persons to be dancing
attendance on half a dozen chairs.




CLXXX

It is best to share with your attendants what is going forward, both in
the labour of preparation and in the enjoyment of the feast itself. If
such a thing be difficult at the time, recollect that you who are
not weary are being served by those that are; you who are eating and
drinking by those who do neither; you who are talking by those who are
silent; you who are at ease by those who are under constraint. Thus no
sudden wrath will betray you into unreasonable conduct, nor will you
behave harshly by irritating another.




CLXXXI

When Xanthippe was chiding Socrates for making scanty preparation for
entertaining his friends, he answered:--"If they are friends of ours
they will not care for that; if they are not, we shall care nothing for
them! "




CLXXXII

Asked, Who is the rich man? Epictetus replied, "He who is content. "




CLXXXIII

Favorinus tells us how Epictetus would also say that there were two
faults far graver and fouler than any others--inability to bear, and
inability to forbear, when we neither patiently bear the blows that
must be borne, nor abstain from the things and the pleasures we ought to
abstain from. "So," he went on, "if a man will only have these two words
at heart, and heed them carefully by ruling and watching over himself,
he will for the most part fall into no sin, and his life will be
tranquil and serene. " He meant the words [Greek: Anechou kai
apechou]--"Bear and Forbear. "




CLXXXIV

On all occasions these thoughts should be at hand:--

Lead me, O God, and Thou, O Destiny
Be what it may the goal appointed me,
Bravely I'll follow; nay, and if I would not,
I'd prove a coward, yet must follow still!

Again:

Who to Necessity doth bow aright,
Is learn'd in wisdom and the things of God.

Once more:--

Crito, if this be God's will, so let it be. As for me,
Anytus and Meletus can indeed put me to death, but injure me,
never!




CLXXXV

We shall then be like Socrates, when we can indite hymns of praise to
the Gods in prison.




CLXXXVI

It is hard to combine and unite these two qualities, the carefulness
of one who is affected by circumstances, and the intrepidity of one
who heeds them not. But it is not impossible: else were happiness also
impossible. We should act as we do in seafaring.

"What can I do? "--Choose the master, the crew, the day, the opportunity.
Then comes a sudden storm. What matters it to me? my part has been fully
done. The matter is in the hands of another--the Master of the ship.
The ship is foundering. What then have I to do? I do the only thing
that remains to me--to be drowned without fear, without a cry, without
upbraiding God, but knowing that what has been born must likewise
perish. For I am not Eternity, but a human being--a part of the whole,
as an hour is part of the day. I must come like the hour, and like the
hour must pass!




CLXXXVII

And now we are sending you to Rome to spy out the land; but none send
a coward as such a spy, that, if he hear but a noise and see a shadow
moving anywhere, loses his wits and comes flying to say, The enemy are
upon us!

So if you go now, and come and tell us: "Everything at Rome is terrible:
Death is terrible, Exile is terrible, Slander is terrible, Want is
terrible; fly, comrades! the enemy are upon us! " we shall reply, Get you
gone, and prophesy to yourself! we have but erred in sending such a spy
as you. Diogenes, who was sent as a spy long before you, brought us back
another report than this. He says that Death is no evil; for it need not
even bring shame with it. He says that Fame is but the empty noise of
madmen. And what report did this spy bring us of Pain, what of Pleasure,
what of Want? That to be clothed in sackcloth is better than any purple
robe; that sleeping on the bare ground is the softest couch; and in
proof of each assertion he points to his own courage, constancy, and
freedom; to his own healthy and muscular frame. "There is no enemy
near," he cries, "all is perfect peace! "




CLXXXVIII

If a man has this peace--not the peace proclaimed by Caesar (how indeed
should he have it to proclaim? ), nay, but the peace proclaimed by God
through reason, will not that suffice him when alone, when he beholds
and reflects:--Now can no evil happen unto me; for me there is no
robber, for me no earthquake; all things are full of peace, full of
tranquillity; neither highway nor city nor gathering of men, neither
neighbor nor comrade can do me hurt. Another supplies my food, whose
care it is; another my raiment; another hath given me perceptions of
sense and primary conceptions. And when He supplies my necessities no
more, it is that He is sounding the retreat, that He hath opened the
door, and is saying to thee, Come! --Wither? To nought that thou needest
fear, but to the friendly kindred elements whence thou didst spring.
Whatsoever of fire is in thee, unto fire shall return; whatsoever of
earth, unto earth; of spirit, unto spirit; of water, unto water. There
is no Hades, no fabled rivers of Sighs, of Lamentation, or of Fire: but
all things are full of Beings spiritual and divine. With thoughts like
these, beholding the Sun, Moon, and Stars, enjoying earth and sea, a man
is neither helpless nor alone!




CLXXXIX

What wouldst thou be found doing when overtaken by Death? If I might
choose, I would be found doing some deed of true humanity, of wide
import, beneficent and noble. But if I may not be found engaged in aught
so lofty, let me hope at least for this--what none may hinder, what is
surely in my power--that I may be found raising up in myself that which
had fallen; learning to deal more wisely with the things of sense;
working out my own tranquillity, and thus rendering that which is its
due to every relation of life. . . .

If death surprise me thus employed, it is enough if I can stretch forth
my hands to God and say, "The faculties which I received at Thy hands
for apprehending this thine Administration, I have not neglected. As far
as in me lay, I have done Thee no dishonour. Behold how I have used the
senses, the primary conceptions which Thous gavest me. Have I ever laid
anything to Thy charge? Have I ever murmured at aught that came to pass,
or wished it otherwise? Have I in anything transgressed the relations
of life? For that Thou didst beget me, I thank Thee for that Thou hast
given: for the time during which I have used the things that were Thine,
it suffices me. Take them back and place them wherever Thou wilt! They
were all Thine, and Thou gavest them me. "--If a man depart thus minded,
is it not enough? What life is fairer and more noble, what end happier
than his?




(APPENDIX A)




Fragments Attributed to Epictetus




I

A life entangled with Fortune is like a torrent. It is turbulent
and muddy; hard to pass and masterful of mood: noisy and of brief
continuance.




II

The soul that companies with Virtue is like an ever-flowing source. It
is a pure, clear, and wholesome draught; sweet, rich, and generous of
its store; that injures not, neither destroys.




III

It is a shame that one who sweetens his drink with the gifts of the bee,
should embitter God's gift Reason with vice.




IV

Crows pick out the eyes of the dead, when the dead have no longer need
of them; but flatterers mar the soul of the living, and her eyes they
blind.




V

Keep neither a blunt knife nor an ill-disciplined looseness of tongue.




VI

Nature hath given men one tongue but two ears, that we may hear from
others twice as much as we speak.




VII

Do not give sentence in another tribunal till you have been yourself
judged in the tribunal of Justice.




VIII

If is shameful for a Judge to be judged by others.




IX

Give me by all means the shorter and nobler life, instead of one that is
longer but of less account!




X

Freedom is the name of virtue: Slavery, of vice. . .