No More Learning

Why then be surprised if you carry home from
the School exactly what you bring into it?




LXXXI

"Epictetus, I have often come desiring to hear you speak, and you have
never given me any answer; now if possible, I entreat you, say something
to me. "

"Is there, do you think," replied Epictetus, "an art of speaking as
of other things, if it is to be done skilfully and with profit to the
hearer? "

"Yes. "

"And are all profited by what they hear, or only some among them? So
that it seems there is an art of hearing as well as of speaking. . . .
To make a statue needs skill: to view a statue aright needs skill also. "

"Admitted. "

"And I think all will allow that one who proposes to hear philosophers
speak needs a considerable training in hearing. Is that not so? The tell
me on what subject your are able to hear me. "

"Why, on good and evil. "

"The good and evil of what? a horse, an ox? "

"No; of a man. "

"Do we know then what Man is? what his nature is? what is the idea we
have of him? And are our ears practised in any degree on the subject?
Nay, do you understand what Nature is? can you follow me in any degree
when I say that I shall have to use demonstration? Do you understand
what Demonstration is? what True or False is? . . . must I drive you to
Philosophy? . . . Show me what good I am to do by discoursing with you.
Rouse my desire to do so. The sight of a pasture it loves stirs in
a sheep the desire to feed: show it a stone or a bit of bread and it
remains unmoved. Thus we also have certain natural desires, aye, and one
that moves us to speak when we find a listener that is worth his salt:
one that himself stirs the spirit. But if he sits by like a stone or a
tuft of grass, how can he rouse a man's desire? "

"Then you will say nothing to me? "

"I can only tell you this: that one who knows not who he is and to
what end he was born; what kind of world this is and with whom he is
associated therein; one who cannot distinguish Good and Evil, Beauty and
Foulness, . . . Truth and Falsehood, will never follow Reason in shaping
his desires and impulses and repulsions, nor yet in assent, denial, or
suspension of judgement; but will in one word go about deaf and blind,
thinking himself to be somewhat, when he is in truth of no account. Is
there anything new in all this? Is not this ignorance the cause of all
the mistakes and mischances of men since the human race began? . . . "

"This is all I have to say to you, and even this against the grain. Why?
Because you have not stirred my spirit. For what can I see in you to
stir me, as a spirited horse will stir a judge of horses? Your body?
That you maltreat. Your dress? That is luxurious. You behavior, your
look? --Nothing whatever. When you want to hear a philosopher, do not
say, You say nothing to me'; only show yourself worthy or fit to hear,
and then you will see how you will move the speaker. "




LXXXII

And now, when you see brothers apparently good friends and living in
accord, do not immediately pronounce anything upon their friendship,
though they should affirm it with an oath, though they should declare,
"For us to live apart in a thing impossible! " For the heart of a bad
man is faithless, unprincipled, inconstant: now overpowered by one
impression, now by another. Ask not the usual questions, Were they born
of the same parents, reared together, and under the same tutor; but ask
this only, in what they place their real interest--whether in outward
things or in the Will. If in outward things, call them not friends, any
more than faithful, constant, brave or free: call them not even human
beings, if you have any sense. . . . But should you hear that these men
hold the Good to lie only in the Will, only in rightly dealing with the
things of sense, take no more trouble to inquire whether they are father
and son or brothers, or comrades of long standing; but, sure of this
one thing, pronounce as boldly that they are friends as that they are
faithful and just: for where else can Friendship be found than where
Modesty is, where there is an interchange of things fair and honest, and
of such only?




LXXXIII

No man can rob us of our Will--no man can lord it over that!




LXXXIV

When disease and death overtake me, I would fain be found engaged in
the task of liberating mine own Will from the assaults of passion, from
hindrance, from resentment, from slavery.

Thus would I fain to be found employed, so that I may say to God, "Have
I in aught transgressed Thy commands? Have I in aught perverted the
faculties, the senses, the natural principles that Thou didst give me?
Have I ever blamed Thee or found fault with Thine administration? When
it was Thy good pleasure, I fell sick--and so did other men: by my will
consented. Because it was Thy pleasure, I became poor: but my heart
rejoiced. No power in the State was mine, because Thou wouldst not:
such power I never desired! Hast Thou ever seen me of more doleful
countenance on that account? Have I not ever drawn nigh unto Thee with
cheerful look, waiting upon Thy commands, attentive to Thy signals? Wilt
Thou that I now depart from the great Assembly of men? I go: I give Thee
all thanks, that Thou hast deemed me worthy to take part with Thee
in this Assembly: to behold Thy works, to comprehend this Thine
administration. "

Such I would were the subject of my thoughts, my pen, my study, when
death overtakes me.




LXXXV

Seemeth it nothing to you, never to accuse, never to blame either God or
Man? to wear ever the same countenance in going forth as in coming
in? This was the secret of Socrates: yet he never said that he knew
or taught anything. . . . Who amongst you makes this his aim? Were it
indeed so, you would gladly endure sickness, hunger, aye, death itself.




LXXXVI

How are we constituted by Nature? To be free, to be noble, to be modest
(for what other living thing is capable of blushing, or of feeling the
impression of shame? ) and to subordinate pleasure to the ends for which
Nature designed us, as a handmaid and a minister, in order to call forth
our activity; in order to keep us constant to the path prescribed by
Nature.




LXXXVII

The husbandman deals with land; physicians and trainers with the body;
the wise man with his own Mind.




LXXXVIII

Which of us does not admire what Lycurgus the Spartan did? A young
citizen had put out his eye, and been handed over to him by the people
to be punished at his own discretion. Lycurgus abstained from all
vengeance, but on the contrary instructed and made a good man of him.
Producing him in public in the theatre, he said to the astonished
Spartans:--"I received this young man at your hands full of violence
and wanton insolence; I restore him to you in his right mind and fit to
serve his country. "




LXXXIX

A money-changer may not reject Caesar's coin, nor may the seller of
herbs, but must when once the coin is shown, deliver what is sold for
it, whether he will or no. So is it also with the Soul. Once the Good
appears, it attracts towards itself; evil repels. But a clear and
certain impression of the Good the Soul will never reject, any more than
men do Caesar's coin. On this hangs every impulse alike of Man and God.




XC

Asked what Common Sense was, Epictetus replied:--

As that may be called a Common Ear which distinguishes only sounds,
while that which distinguishes musical notes is not common but produced
by training; so there are certain things which men not entirely
perverted see by the natural principles common to all. Such a
constitution of the Mind is called Common Sense.




XCI

Canst thou judge men? . . . then make us imitators of thyself, as
Socrates did. Do this, do not do that, else will I cast thee into
prison; this is not governing men like reasonable creatures. Say
rather, As God hath ordained, so do; else thou wilt suffer chastisement
and loss. Askest thou what loss? None other than this: To have left
undone what thou shouldst have done: to have lost the faithfulness, the
reverence, the modesty that is in thee! Greater loss than this seek not
to find!




XCII

"His son is dead. "

What has happened?

"His son is dead. "

Nothing more?

"Nothing. "

"His ship is lost. "

"He has been haled to prison. "

What has happened?

"He has been haled to prison. "

But that any of these things are misfortunes to him, is an addition
which every one makes of his own. But (you say) God is unjust is
this. --Why? For having given thee endurance and greatness of soul? For
having made such things to be no evils? For placing happiness within thy
reach, even when enduring them? For open unto thee a door, when things
make not for thy good? --Depart, my friend and find fault no more!




XCIII

You are sailing to Rome (you tell me) to obtain the post of Governor of
Cnossus. You are not content to stay at home with the honours you had
before; you want something on a larger scale, and more conspicuous. But
when did you ever undertake a voyage for the purpose of reviewing your
own principles and getting rid of any of them that proved unsound? Whom
did you ever visit for that object? What time did you ever set yourself
for that? What age? Run over the times of your life--by yourself, if you
are ashamed before me. Did you examine your principles when a boy? Did
you not do everything just as you do now? Or when you were a stripling,
attending the school of oratory and practising the art yourself, what
did you ever imagine you lacked? And when you were a young man, entered
upon public life, and were pleading causes and making a name, who any
longer seemed equal to you? And at what moment would you have endured
another examining your principles and proving that they were unsound?
What then am I to say to you? "Help me in this matter! " you cry. Ah, for
that I have no rule! And neither did you, if that was your object, come
to me as a philosopher, but as you might have gone to a herb-seller or
a cobbler. --"What do philosophers have rules for, then? "--Why, that
whatever may betide, our ruling faculty may be as Nature would have it,
and so remain. Think you this a small matter? Not so! but the greatest
thing there is. Well, does it need but a short time? Can it be grasped
by a passer-by? --grasp it, if you can!

Then you will say, "Yes, I met Epictetus! "

Aye, just as you might a statue or a monument. You saw me! and that is
all. But a man who meets a man is one who learns the other's mind, and
lets him see his in turn. Learn my mind--show me yours; and then go
and say that you met me. Let us try each other; if I have any wrong
principle, rid me of it; if you have, out with it. That is what meeting
a philosopher means. Not so, you think; this is only a flying visit;
while we are hiring the ship, we can see Epictetus too! Let us see
what he has to say. Then on leaving you cry, "Out on Epictetus for a
worthless fellow, provincial and barbarous of speech! " What else indeed
did you come to judge of?




XCIV

Whether you will or no, you are poorer than I!

"What then do I lack? "

What you have not: Constancy of mind, such as Nature would have it be:
Tranquillity. Patron or no patron, what care I? but you do care. I am
richer than you: I am not racked with anxiety as to what Caesar may
think of me; I flatter none on that account. This is what I have,
instead of vessels of gold and silver! your vessels may be of gold, but
your reason, your principles, your accepted views, your inclinations,
your desires are of earthenware.




XCV

To you, all you have seems small: to me, all I have seems great. Your
desire is insatiable, mine is satisfied. See children thrusting their
hands into a narrow-necked jar, and striving to pull out the nuts and
figs it contains: if they fill the hand, they cannot pull it out again,
and then they fall to tears. --"Let go a few of them, and then you
can draw out the rest! "--You, too, let your desire go! covet not many
things, and you will obtain.




XCVI

Pittacus wronged by one whom he had it in his power to punish, let
him go free, saying, Forgiveness is better than revenge. The one shows
native gentleness, the other savagery.




XCVII

"My brother ought not to have treated me thus. "

True: but he must see to that. However he may treat me, I must deal
rightly by him. This is what lies with me, what none can hinder.




XCVIII

Nevertheless a man should also be prepared to be sufficient unto
himself--to dwell with himself alone, even as God dwells with Himself
alone, shares His repose with none, and considers the nature of His own
administration, intent upon such thoughts as are meet unto Himself. So
should we also be able to converse with ourselves, to need none else
beside, to sigh for no distraction, to bend our thoughts upon the Divine
Administration, and how we stand related to all else; to observe how
human accidents touched us of old, and how they touch us now; what
things they are that still have power to hurt us, and how they may
be cured or removed; to perfect what needs perfecting as Reason would
direct.




XCIX

If a man has frequent intercourse with others, either in the way of
conversation, entertainment, or simple familiarity, he must either
become like them, or change them to his own fashion. A live coal placed
next a dead one will either kindle that or be quenched by it. Such being
the risk, it is well to be cautious in admitting intimacies of this
sort, remembering that one cannot rub shoulders with a soot-stained man
without sharing the soot oneself. What will you do, supposing the talk
turns on gladiators, or horses, or prize-fighters, or (what is worse) on
persons, condemning this and that, approving the other? Or suppose a man
sneers and jeers or shows a malignant temper? Has any among us the skill
of the lute-player, who knows at the first touch which strings are out
of tune and sets the instrument right: has any of you such power as
Socrates had, in all his intercourse with men, of winning them over
to his own convictions? Nay, but you must needs be swayed hither and
thither by the uninstructed. How comes it then that they prove so
much stronger than you? Because they speak from the fulness of the
heart--their low, corrupt views are their real convictions: whereas your
fine sentiments are but from the lips, outwards; that is why they are
so nerveless and dead. It turns one's stomach to listen to your
exhortations, and hear of your miserable Virtue, that you prate of
up and down. Thus it is that the Vulgar prove too strong for you.
Everywhere strength, everywhere victory waits your conviction!




C

In general, any methods of discipline applied to the body which tend
to modify its desires or repulsions, are good--for ascetic ends. But if
done for display, they betray at once a man who keeps an eye on outward
show; who has an ulterior purpose, and is looking for spectators to
shout, "Oh what a great man! " This is why Apollonius so well said: "If
you are bent upon a little private discipline, wait till you are choking
with heat some day--then take a mouthful of cold water, and spit it out
again, and tell no man! "




CI

Study how to give as one that is sick: that thou mayest hereafter give
as one that is whole. Fast; drink water only; abstain altogether from
desire, that thou mayest hereafter conform thy desire to Reason.




CII

Thou wouldst do good unto men? then show them by thine own example
what kind of men philosophy can make, and cease from foolish trifling.
Eating, do good to them that eat with thee; drinking, to them that drink
with thee; yield unto all, give way, and bear with them. Thus shalt thou
do them good: but vent not upon them thine own evil humour!




CIII

Even as bad actors cannot sing alone, but only in chorus: so some cannot
walk alone.

Man, if thou art aught, strive to walk alone and hold converse with
thyself, instead of skulking in the chorus! at length think; look around
thee; bestir thyself, that thou mayest know who thou art!




CIV

You would fain be victor at the Olympic games, you say. Yes, but weigh
the conditions, weigh the consequences; then and then only, lay to your
hand--if it be for your profit. You must live by rule, submit to diet,
abstain from dainty meats, exercise your body perforce at stated hours,
in heat or in cold; drink no cold water, nor, it may be, wine. In a
word, you must surrender yourself wholly to your trainer, as though to a
physician.

Then in the hour of contest, you will have to delve the ground, it may
chance dislocate an arm, sprain an ankle, gulp down abundance of yellow
sand, be scourge with the whip--and with all this sometimes lose the
victory. Count the cost--and then, if your desire still holds, try the
wrestler's life. Else let me tell you that you will be behaving like a
pack of children playing now at wrestlers, now at gladiators; presently
falling to trumpeting and anon to stage-playing, when the fancy takes
them for what they have seen. And you are even the same: wrestler,
gladiator, philosopher, orator all by turns and none of them with your
whole soul. Like an ape, you mimic what you see, to one thing constant
never; the thing that is familiar charms no more. This is because you
never undertook aught with due consideration, nor after strictly testing
and viewing it from every side; no, your choice was thoughtless; the
glow of your desire had waxed cold . . . .

Friend, bethink you first what it is you would do, and then what your
own nature is able to bear. Would you be a wrestler, consider your
shoulders, your thighs, your loins--not all men are formed to the same
end. Think you to be a philosopher while acting as you do? think you go
on thus eating, thus drinking, giving way in like manner to wrath and
to displeasure? Nay, you must watch, you must labour; overcome certain
desires; quit your familiar friends, submit to be despised by your
slave, to be held in derision by them that meet you, to take the lower
place in all things, in office, in positions of authority, in courts of
law.

Weigh these things fully, and then, if you will, lay to your hand; if
as the price of these things you would gain Freedom, Tranquillity, and
passionless Serenity.




CV

He that hath no musical instruction is a child in Music; he that hath no
letters is a child in Learning; he that is untaught is a child in Life.




CVI

Can any profit be derived from these men? Aye, from all.

"What, even from a reviler? "

Why, tell me what profit a wrestler gains from him who exercises
him beforehand? The very greatest: he trains me in the practice of
endurance, of controlling my temper, of gentle ways. You deny it. What,
the man who lays hold of my neck, and disciplines loins and shoulders,
does me good, . . . while he that trains me to keep my temper does me
none? This is what it means, not knowing how to gain advantage from men!
Is my neighbour bad? Bad to himself, but good to me: he brings my good
temper, my gentleness into play. Is my father bad? Bad to himself, but
good to me. This is the rod of Hermes; touch what you will with it,
they say, and it becomes gold. Nay, but bring what you will and I will
transmute it into Good. Bring sickness, bring death, bring poverty and
reproach, bring trial for life--all these things through the rod of
Hermes shall be turned to profit.




CVII

Till then these sound opinions have taken firm root in you, and you
have gained a measure of strength for your security, I counsel you to be
cautious in associating with the uninstructed. Else whatever impressions
you receive upon the tablets of your mind in the School will day by day
melt and disappear, like wax in the sun. Withdraw then somewhere far
from the sun, while you have these waxen sentiments.




CVIII

We must approach this matter in a different way; it is great and
mystical: it is no common thing; nor given to every man. Wisdom alone,
it may be, will not suffice for the care of youth: a man needs also
a certain measure of readiness--an aptitude for the office; aye, and
certain bodily qualities; and above all, to be counselled of God Himself
to undertake this post; even as He counselled Socrates to fill the post
of one who confutes error, assigning to Diogenes the royal office of
high reproof, and to Zeno that of positive instruction. Whereas you
would fain set up for a physician provided with nothing but drugs! Where
and how they should be applied you neither know nor care.




CIX

If what charms you is nothing but abstract principles, sit down and turn
them over quietly in your mind: but never dub yourself a Philosopher,
nor suffer others to call you so. Say rather: He is in error; for my
desires, my impulses are unaltered. I give in my adhesion to what I did
before; nor has my mode of dealing with the things of sense undergone
any change.




CX

When a friend inclined to Cynic views asked Epictetus, what sort of
person a true Cynic should be, requesting a general sketch of the
system, he answered:--"We will consider that at leisure. At present
I content myself with saying this much: If a man put his hand to so
weighty a matter without God, the wrath of God abides upon him. That
which he covets will but bring upon him public shame. Not even on
finding himself in a well-ordered house does a man step forward and say
to himself, I must be master here! Else the lord of that house takes
notice of it, and, seeing him insolently giving orders, drags him forth
and chastises him. So it is also in this great City, the World. Here
also is there a Lord of the House, who orders all thing:--

"Thou are the Sun! in thine orbit thou hast
power to make the year and the seasons;
to bid the fruits of the earth to grow
and increase, the winds arise and fall;
thou canst in due measure cherish with
thy warmth the frames of men; go make
thy circuit, and thus minister unto all
from the greatest to the least! . . . "

"Thou canst lead a host against Troy; be Agamemnon! "

"Thou canst meet Hector in single combat; be Achilles! "

"But had Thersites stepped forward and claimed the chief command, he
had been met with a refusal, or obtained it only to his own shame and
confusion of face, before a cloud of witnesses. "




CXI

Others may fence themselves with walls and houses, when they do such
deeds as these, and wrap themselves in darkness--aye, they have many
a device to hide themselves. Another may shut his door and station one
before his chamber to say, if any comes, He has gone forth! he is not at
leisure! But the true Cynic will have none of these things; instead of
them, he must wrap himself in Modesty: else he will but bring himself
to shame, naked and under the open sky. That is his house; that is his
door; that is the slave that guards his chamber; that is his darkness!




CXII

Death? let it come when it will, whether it smite but a part of the
whole: Fly, you tell me--fly! But whither shall I fly? Can any man cast
me beyond the limits of the World? It may not be! And whithersoever I
go, there shall I still find Sun, Moon, and Stars; there I shall find
dreams, and omens, and converse with the Gods!




CXIII

Furthermore the true Cynic must know that he is sent as a Messenger from
God to men, to show unto them that as touching good and evil they are
in error; looking for these where they are not to be found, nor ever
bethinking themselves where they are. And like Diogenes when brought
before Philip after the battle of Chaeronea, the Cynic must remember
that he is a Spy. For a Spy he really is--to bring back word what things
are on Man's side, and what against him. And when he had diligently
observed all, he must come back with a true report, not terrified into
announcing them to be foes that are no foes, nor otherwise perturbed or
confounded by the things of sense.




CXIV

How can it be that one who hath nothing, neither raiment, nor house,
nor home, nor bodily tendance, nor servant, nor city, should yet live
tranquil and contented? Behold God hath sent you a man to show you in
act and deed that it may be so. Behold me! I have neither house nor
possessions nor servants: the ground is my couch; I have no wife, no
children, no shelter--nothing but earth and sky, and one poor cloak. And
what lack I yet? am I not untouched by sorrow, by fear? am I not free?
. . . when have I laid anything to the charge of God or Man? when have I
accused any? hath any of you seen me with a sorrowful countenance? And
in what wise treat I those of whom you stand in fear and awe? Is it not
as slaves? Who when he seeth me doth not think that he beholdeth his
Master and his King?




CXV

Give thyself more diligently to reflection: know thyself: take counsel
with the Godhead: without God put thine hand unto nothing!




CXVI

"But to marry and to rear offspring," said the young man, "will the
Cynic hold himself bound to undertake this as a chief duty? "

Grant me a republic of wise men, answered Epictetus, and perhaps none
will lightly take the Cynic life upon him. For on whose account should
he embrace that method of life? Suppose however that he does, there will
then be nothing to hinder his marrying and rearing offspring. For his
wife will be even such another as himself, and likewise her father; and
in like manner will his children be brought up.

But in the present condition of things, which resembles an Army in
battle array, ought not the Cynic to be free from all distraction and
given wholly to the service of God, so that he can go in and out among
men, neither fettered by the duties nor entangled by the relations of
common life? For if he transgress them, he will forfeit the character of
a good man and true; whereas if he observe them, there is an end to him
as the Messenger, the Spy, the Herald of the Gods!




CXVII

Ask me if you choose if a Cynic shall engage in the administration of
the State. O fool, seek you a nobler administration that that in which
he is engaged? Ask you if a man shall come forward in the Athenian
assembly and talk about revenue and supplies, when his business is to
converse with all men, Athenians, Corinthians, and Romans alike, not
about supplies, not about revenue, nor yet peace and war, but about
Happiness and Misery, Prosperity and Adversity, Slavery and Freedom?

Ask you whether a man shall engage in the administration of the State
who has engaged in such an Administration as this? Ask me too if he
shall govern; and again I will answer, Fool, what greater government
shall he hold than he holds already?




CXVIII

Such a man needs also to have a certain habit of body. If he appears
consumptive, thin and pale, his testimony has no longer the same
authority. He must not only prove to the unlearned by showing them what
his Soul is that it is possible to be a good man apart from all that
they admire; but he must also show them, by his body, that a plain
and simple manner of life under the open sky does no harm to the body
either. "See, I am proof of this! and my body also. " As Diogenes used to
do, who went about fresh of look and by the very appearance of his body
drew men's eyes. But if a Cynic is an object of pity, he seems a
mere beggar; all turn away, all are offended at him. Nor should he be
slovenly of look, so as not to scare men from him in this way either; on
the contrary, his very roughness should be clean and attractive.




CXIX

Kings and tyrants have armed guards wherewith to chastise certain
persons, though they themselves be evil. But to the Cynic conscience
gives this power--not arms and guards. When he knows that he has watched
and laboured on behalf of mankind: that sleep hath found him pure,
and left him purer still: that his thoughts have been the thought of
a Friend of the Gods--of a servant, yet one that hath a part in the
government of the Supreme God: that the words are ever on his lips:--

Lead me, O God, and thou, O Destiny!

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!