by Epictetus
But Socrates bathed infrequently, says someone. — Why, his body was radiant; why, it was so attractive and sweet that the handsomest and most high-born were in love with him, and yearned to sit by his side rather than beside those who had the prettiest forms and features. He might have neither bathed nor washed, had he so desired; yet even his infrequent bathings were effective. — But Aristophanes says,
The pallid men I mean, who shoeless go. —
Oh, yes, but then he says also that Socrates “trod the air,” and stole people’s clothes from the wrestling school. And yet all who have written about Socrates unite in bearing testimony to the precise opposite of this; that he was not merely pleasant to hear, but also to see. Again, men write the same thing about Diogenes. For a man ought not to drive away the multitude from philosophy, even by the appearance of his body, but as in everything else, so also on the side of the body, he ought to show himself cheerful and free from perturbation. “See, O men, that I have nothing, and need nothing. See how, although I am without a house, and without a city, and an exile, if it so chance, and without a hearth, I still live a life more tranquil and serene than that of all the noble and the rich. Yes, and you see that even my paltry body is not disfigured by my hard way of living.” But if I am told this by a person who has the bearing and face of a condemned man, what one of all the gods shall persuade me to approach philosophy, if she makes people like that? Far be it from me! I shouldn’t be willing to do so, not even if it would make me a wise man.
As for me, by the gods, I should rather have the young man who was experiencing the first stirrings towards philosophy come to me with his hair carefully dressed, than with it in a state of desperate neglect and dirty. For the first case shows that there exists in the young man a sort of imaging of beauty, and an aiming at comeliness, and where he fancies it to be, there also he devotes his efforts. With that as a starting-point, all that it is necessary to do is to show him the way, and say, “Young man, you are seeking the beautiful, and you do well. Know, then, that it arises in that part of you where you have your reason; seek it there where you have your choices and your refusals, where you have your desires and your aversions. For this part is something of a special kind which you have within you, but your paltry body is by nature only clay. Why do you toil for it to no purpose? If you learn nothing else, time at least will teach you that it is nothing.” But if he comes to me bespattered with dung, dirty, his moustache reaching down to his knees, what have I to say to him, from what point of resemblance can I start so as to prevail upon him? For what is there to which he is devoted, that bears any resemblance to the beautiful, so that I may turn him about and say, “Beauty is not there, but here”? Do you want me to say to him, “Beauty does not consist in being bespattered with dung, but in reason”? For is he aiming at beauty? Has he any manifestation of it? Go and talk to a pig, that he may wallow no more in mud! That is why the words of Xenocrates laid hold even of a Polemo, because he was a young man who loved beauty. For he came to Xenocrates with glimmerings of a zeal for the beautiful, but was looking for it in the wrong place.
Why, look you, nature has not made dirty even the animals which associate with man. A horse doesn’t roll around in the mud, does he? or a highly bred dog? No, but the hog, and the miserable rotten geese, and worms, and spiders, the creatures farthest removed from association with human beings. Do you, then, who are a buman being, wish to be not even an animal of the kind that associates with men, but rather a worm, or a spider? Will you not take a bath somewhere, some time, in any form you please? Will you not wash yourself? If you don’t care to bathe in hot water, then use cold. Will you not come to us clean, that your companions may be glad? What, and do you in such a state go with us even into the temples, where it is forbidden by custom to spit or blow the nose, yourself being nothing but a mass of spit and drivel?
Well, what then? Is anyone demanding that you beautify yourself? Heaven forbid! except you beautify that which is our true nature — the reason, its judgements, its activities; but your body only so far as to keep it cleanly, only so ftir as to avoid giving offence. But if you hear that one ought not to wear scarlet, go bespatter your rough cloak with dung — or tear it to pieces! Yet where am I to get a rough cloak that looks well? — Man, you have water, wash it! See, here is a lovable young man, here an elderly man worthy to love and to be loved in return, to whom a person will entrust the education of his son, to whom daughters and young men will come, if it so chance — all for the purpose of having him deliver his lectures sitting on a dunghill? Good Lord, no! Every eccentricity arises from some human trait, but this trait comes close to being non-human.
CHAPTER XII
Of attention
When you relax your attention for a little while, do not imagine that whenever you choose you will recover it, but bear this in mind, that because of the mistake which you have made to-day, your condition nmst necessarily be worse as regards everything else. For, to begin with — and this is the worst of all — a habit of not paying attention is developed; and after that a habit of deferring attention; and always you grow accustomed to putting off from one time to another tranquil and appropriate living, the life in accordance with nature, and persistence in that life. Now if the postponement of such matters is profitable, it is still more profitable to abandon them altogether; but if it is not profitable, why do you not maintain your attention continuously? “To-day I want to play.” What is to prevent your playing, then, — but with attention? “I want to sing.” What is to prevent your singing, then, — but with attention? There is no part of the activities of your life excepted, to which attention does not extend, is there? What, will you do it worse by attention, and better by inattention? And yet what other thing, of all that go to make up our life, is done better by those who are inattentive? Does the inattentive carpenter do his work more accurately? The inattentive helmsman steer more safely? And is there any other of the lesser functions of life which is done better by inattention? Do you not realize that when once you let your mind go wandering, it is no longer within your power to recall it, to bring it to bear upon either seemliness, or self-respect, or moderation? But you do anything that comes into your head, you follow your inclinations.
What are the things, then, to which I ought to pay attention? — First, these general principles, and you ought to have them at your command, and without them neither go to sleep, nor rise up, nor drink, nor eat, nor mingle with men; I mean the following: No man is master of another’s moral purpose; and: In its sphere alone are to be found one’s good and evil. It follows, therefore, that no one has power either to procure me good, or to involve me in evil, but I myself alone have authority over myself in these matters. Accordingly, when these things are secure for me, what excuse have I for being disturbed about things external? What kind of tyrant inspires fear, what kind of disease, or poverty, or obstacle? — But I have not pleased So-and-so. — He is not my function, is he? He is not my judgement, is he? — No. — Why, then, do I care any longer? — But he has the reputation of being somebody. — He and those who think so highly of him will have to see to that, but I have one whom I must please, to whom I must submit, whom I must obey, that is, God, and after Him, myself. God has commended me to myself, and He has subjected to me alone my moral purpose, giving me standards for the correct use of it; and when I follow these standards, I pay heed to none of those who say anything else, I give not a thought to anyone in arguments with equivocal premisses. Why, then, in the more important matters am I annoyed by those who censure me? What is the reason for this perturbation of spirit? Nothing but the fact that in this field I lack training. For, look you, every science is entitled to despise ignorance and ignorant people, and not merely the sciences, but also the arts. Take any cobbler you please, and he laughs the multitude to scorn when it comes to his own work; take any carpenter you please.
First, therefore, we ought to have these principles at command, and to do nothing apart from them, but keep the soul int
ent upon this mark; we must pursue none of the things external, none of the things which are not our own, but as He that is mighty has ordained; pursuing without any hesitation the things that lie within the sphere of the moral purpose, and all other things as they have been given us. And next we must remember who we are, and what is our designation, and must endeavour to direct our actions, in the performance of our duties, to meet the possibilities of our social relations. We must remember what is the proper time for song, the proper time for play, and in whose presence; also what will be out of place; lest our companions despise us, and we despise ourselves; when to jest, and whom to laugh at, and to what end to engage in social intercourse, and with whom; and, finally, how to maintain one’s proper character in such social intercourse. But whenever you deviate from any one of these principles, immediately you suffer loss, and that not from anywhere outside, but from the very nature of the activity.
What then? Is it possible to be free from fault altogether? No, that cannot be achieved, but it is possible ever to be intent upon avoiding faults. For we must be satisfied, if we succeed in escaping at least a few faults by never relaxing our attention. But now, when you say, “To-morrow I will pay attention,” I would have you know that this is what you are saying: “To-day I will be shameless, tactless, abject; it will be in the power of other men to grieve me; I will get angry to-day, I will give way to envy.” Just see all the evils that you are allowing yourself! But if it is good for you to pay attention to-morrow, how much better is it to-day I If it is to your interest to-morrow, it is much more so to-day, that you may be able to do the same to-morrow also, and not put it off again, this time to the day after to-morrow.
CHAPTER XIII
To those who lightly talk about their own affairs
When someone gives us the impression of having talked to us frankly about his personal affairs, somehow or other we are likewise led to tell him our own secrets, and to think that is frankness! The first reason for this is because it seems unfair for a man to have heard his neighbour’s affairs, and yet not to let him too have, in his turn, a share in ours. Another reason, after that, is because we feel that we shall not give the impression to these men of being frank, if we keep our own private affairs concealed. Indeed, men are frequently in the habit of saying, “I have told you everything about myself, aren’t you willing: to tell me anything about yourself? Where do people act like that?” Furthermore, there is also the thought that we can safely trust the man who has already entrusted knowledge of his own affairs; for the idea occurs to us that this man would never spread abroad knowledge of our affairs, because he would be careful to guard against our too spreading abroad knowledge of his affairs. In this fashion the rash are ensnared by the soldiers in Rome. A soldier, dressed like a civilian, sits down by your side, and begins to speak ill of Caesar, and then you too, just as though you had received from him some guarantee of good faith in the fact that he began the abuse, tell likewise everything you think, and the next thing is — you are led off to prison in chains. We experience something of the same sort also in the general course of our life. For even though this particular man has safely entrusted knowledge of his own affairs to me, I do not myself in like manner tell my affairs to any chance comer; no, I listen and keep still, if, to be sure, I happen to be that kind of a person, but he goes out and tells everybody. And then, when I find out what has happened, if I myself resemble the other person, because I want to get even with him I tell about his affairs, and confound him and am myself confounded. If, however, I remember that one person does not harm another, but that it is a man’s own actions which both harm and help him, this much I achieve, namely, that I do not act like the other person, but despite that I get into the state in which I am because of my own foolish talking.
Yes, but it isn’t fair to hear your neigbour’s secrets and then give him no share of your own in return. — Man, I did not invite your confidences, did I? You did not tell about your affairs on certain conditions, that you were to hear about mine in return, did you? If you are a babbler, and think that every person you meet is a friend, do you also want me to be like yourself? And why, if you did well to entrust your affairs to me, but it is impossible for me to do well in trusting you, do you wish me to be rash? It is just as though I had a jar that was sound, and you one with a hole in it, and you came to me and deposited your wine with me, for me to store it in my jar; and then you complained because I do not entrust to you my wine also; why, your jar has a hole in it! How, then, is equality any longer to be found? You made your deposit with a faithful man, with a respectful man, with a man who regards only his own activities as either harmful or helpful, and nothing that is external. Do you wish me to make a deposit with you — a man who has dishonoured his own moral purpose, and wants to get paltry cash, or some office, or advancement at court, even if you are going to cut the throats ot your children, as Medea did? Where is there equality in that? Nay, show yourself to me as a faithful, respectful, dependable man; show that your judgements are those of a friend, show that your vessel has no hole in it, and you shall see how I will not wait for you to entrust the knowledge of your affairs to me, but I will go of myself and ask you to hear about mine. For who does not wish to use a good vessel, who despises a friendly and faithful counsellor, who would not gladly accept the man who is ready to share his difficulties, as he would share a burden with him, and to make them light for him by the very fact of his sharing in them?
Yes, but I trust you, while you do not trust me. — First, you do not trust me, either, but you are a babbler, and that is the reason why you cannot keep anything pack. Why, look you, if that statement of yours is true, entrust these matters to me alone; but the fact is that whenever you see anybody at leisure you sit down beside him and say, “Brother, I have no one more kindly disposed or dearer to me than you, I ask you to listen to my affairs”; and you act this way to people whom you have not known for even a short time. And even if you do trust me, it is clear you trust me as a faithful and respectful person, not because I have already told you about my affairs. Allow me also, then, to have the same thought about you. Show me that, if a man unbosoms himself to somebody about his own affairs, he is faithful and respectful. For if that were so, I should have gone about and told my own affairs to all men, that is, if that was going to make me faithful and respectful. But that is not the case; to be faithful and respectful a man needs judgements of no casual sort. If, therefore, you see someone very much in earnest about the things that lie outside the province of his moral purpose, and subordinating his own moral purpose to them, rest assured that this man has tens of thousands of persons who subject him to compulsion and hinder him. He has no need of pitch or the wheel to get him to speak out what he knows, but a little nod from a wench, if it so happen, will upset him, a kindness from one of those who frequent Caesar’s court, desire for office, or an inheritance, and thirty thousand other things of the sort. Remember, therefore, in general, that confidences require faithfulness and faithful judgements; and where can one readily find these things nowadays? Or, let someone show me the man who is so minded that he can say, “I care only for what is my own, what is not subject to hindrance, what is by nature free. This, which is the true nature of the good, I have; but let everything else be as God has granted, it makes no difference to me.”
THE ENCHEIRIDION
Translated by George Long and W. A. Oldfather
CONTENTS
GEORGE LONG TRANSLATION, 1890
W. A. OLDFATHER TRANSLATION, 1925
GEORGE LONG TRANSLATION, 1890
OF things some are in our power, and others are not. In our power are opinion (ὑπόληψις), movement towards a thing (ὁρμή), desire, aversion (ἔκκλισις, turning from a thing); and in a word, whatever are our own acts: not in our power are the body, property, reputation, offices (magisterial power), and in a word, whatever are not our own acts. And the things in our power are by nature free, not subject to restraint nor hindrance: but the
things not in our power are weak, slavish, subject to restraint, in the power of others. Remember then that if you think the things which are by nature slavish to be free, and the things which are in the power of others to be your own, you will be hindered, you will lament, you will be disturbed, you will blame both gods and men: but if you think that only which is your own to be your own, and if you think that what is another’s, as it really is, belongs to another, no man will ever compel you, no man will hinder you, you will never blame any man, you will accuse no man, you will do nothing involuntarily (against your will), no man will harm you, you will have no enemy, for you will not suffer any harm.
If then you desire (aim at) such great things, remember that you must not (attempt to) lay hold of them with a small effort; but you must leave alone some things entirely, and postpone others for the present. But if you wish for these things also (such great things), and power (office) and wealth, perhaps you will not gain even these very things (power and wealth) because you aim also at those former things (such great things): certainly you will fail in those things through which alone happiness and freedom are secured. Straightway then practise saying to every harsh appearance, You are an appearance, and in no manner what you appear to be. Then examine it by the rules which you possess, and by this first and chiefly, whether it relates to the things which are in our power or to things which are not in our power: and if it relates to any thing which is not in our power, be ready to say, that it does not concern you.