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THE ENCHIRIDION
by
EPICTETUS
Translated by Elizabeth Carter
circa 1750.
I.
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 will 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.
II.
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.
III.
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.
IV.
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.
V.
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.
VI.
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.
VII.
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 shellfish, 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.
VIII.
Don't demand that things happen as you wish, but wish that
they happen as they do happen, and you will go on well.
IX.
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.
X.
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.
XI.
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.
XII.
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 tranquilty, 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.
XIII.
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.
XIV.
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.
XV.
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.
XVI.
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.
XVII.
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.
XVIII.
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.”
XIX.
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.
XX.
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.
XXI.
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.
XXII.
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.
XXIII.
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.
XXIV.
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.
XXV.
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.
XXVI.
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.
XXVII.
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.
XXVIII.
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?
XXIX.
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
tranquility. 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.
XXX.
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. Are
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.
XXXI.
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.
XXXII.
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.
XXXIII.
Immediately prescribe some character and form of conduct 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, keep your
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.
XXXIV.
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.
XXXV.
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?
XXXVI.
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.
XXXVII.
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.
XXXVIII.
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.
XXXIX.
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.
XL.
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.
XLI.
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.
XLII.
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.”
XLIII.
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.
XLIV.
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.
XLV.
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.
XLVI.
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.
XLVII.
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.
XLVIII.
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.
XLIX.
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.
L.
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.
LI.
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.
LII.
Upon all occasions we ought to have these maxims ready at
hand:
“Conduct me, Jove, and you, O Destiny, Wherever your decrees
have fixed my station."1
“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."2
And this third:
“O Crito, if it thus pleases the gods, thus let it be. Anytus
and Melitus may kill me indeed, but hurt me they cannot."3
1 Cleanthes, Hymn to Zeus, quoted by Seneca, Epistle 107.
2 Euripides, Fragment 965 Nauck.
3 Plato, Crito 43d; Apology 30c–d.