THE WAY OF PHILOSOPHY.
1. A certain Roman having entered with his son and listened to one lecture, "This," said Epictetus, "is the manner of teaching;" and he was silent. But when the other prayed him to continue, he spake as follows:-
Every art is wearisome, in the learning of it, to the untaught and unskilled. Yet things that are made by the arts immediately declare their use, and for what they were made, and in most of them is something attractive and pleasing. And thus when a shoemaker is learning his trade it is no pleasure to stand by and observe him, but the shoe is useful, and moreover not unpleasing to behold. And the learning of a carpenter"s trade is very grievous to an untaught person who happens to be present, but the work done declares the need of the art. But far more is this seen in music, for if you are by where one is learning, it will appear the most painful of all instructions; but that which is produced by the musical art is sweet and delightful to hear, even to those who are untaught in it. And here we conceive the work of one who studies philosophy to be some such thing, that he must fit his desire to all events, so that nothing may come to pa.s.s against our will, nor may aught fail to come to pa.s.s that we wish for. Whence it results to those who so order it, that they never fail to obtain what they would, nor to avoid what they would not, living, as regards themselves, without pain, fear, or trouble; and as regards their fellows, observing all the relations, natural and acquired; as son or father, or brother or citizen, or husband or wife, or neighbor or fellow-traveler, or prince or subject.
Such we conceive to be the work of one who pursues philosophy. And next we must inquire how this may come about.
2. We see, then, that the carpenter becomes a carpenter by learning something, and by learning something the pilot becomes a pilot. And here also is it not on this wise? Is it enough that we merely wish to become good and wise, or must we not also learn something? We inquire, then, what we have to learn?
3. The philosophers say that, before all things, it is needful to learn that G.o.d is, and taketh thought for all things; and that nothing can be hid from Him, neither deeds, nor even thoughts or wishes. Thereafter, of what nature the G.o.ds are. For whatever they are found to be, he who would please and serve them must strive, with all his might, to be like unto them. If the Divine is faithful, so must he be faithful; if free, so must he be free; if beneficent, so must he be beneficent; if high-minded, so must he be high-minded; so that thus emulating G.o.d, he shall both do and speak the things that follow therefrom.[1]
4. Whence, then, shall we make a beginning? If you will consider this with me, I shall say, first, that you must attend to the sense of words.[2]
--"So I do not now understand them?"
You do not.
--"How, then, do I use them?"
As the unlettered use written words, or as cattle use appearances; for the use is one thing and understanding another. But if you think you understand, then take any word you will,[3] and let us try ourselves, whether we understand it. But it is hateful to be confuted, for a man now old, and one who, perhaps, hath served his three campaigns! And I too know this. For you have come to me now as one who lacketh nothing.
And what could you suppose to be lacking to you? Wealth have you, and children, and it may be a wife, and many servants; Caesar knows you, you have won many friends in Rome, you give every man his due, you reward with good him that doeth good to you, and with evil him that doeth evil.
What is still lacking to you? If, now, I shall show you that you lack the greatest and most necessary things for happiness, and that to this day you have cared for everything rather than for what behooved you; and if I crown all and say that you know not what G.o.d is nor what man is, nor Good nor Evil;-and what I say of other things is perhaps endurable, but if I say you know not your own self, how can you endure me, and bear the accusation, and abide here? Never-but straightway you will go away in anger. And yet what evil have I done you? Unless the mirror doth evil to the ill-favored man, when it shows him to himself such as he is, and unless the physician is thought to affront the sick man when he may say to him: _Man, dost thou think thou ailest nothing? Thou hast a fever: fast to-day and drink water._ And none saith, _What an affront_. But if one shall say to a man: _Thy pursuits art inflamed, thine avoidances are mean, thy purposes are lawless, thy impulses accord not with nature, thine opinions are vain and lying_-straightway he goeth forth and saith, _He affronted me_.
5. We follow our business as in a great fair. Cattle and oxen are brought to be sold; and the greater part of the men come some to buy, some to sell; and few are they who come for the spectacle of the fair,-how it comes to pa.s.s, and wherefore, and who are they who have established it, and to what end. And so it is here, too, in this a.s.sembly of life. Some, indeed, like cattle, concern themselves with nothing but fodder; even such as those that care for possessions and lands and servants and offices, for these are nothing more than fodder.
But few are they who come to the fair for love of the spectacle, what the world is and by whom it is governed. By no one? And how is it possible that a state or a house cannot endure, no not for the shortest time, without a governor and overseer, but this so great and fair fabric should be guided thus orderly by chance and accident? There is, then, one who governs. But what is his nature? and how doth he govern? and we, that were made by him, what are we, and for what are we? or have we at least some intercourse and link with him, or have we none? Thus it is that these few are moved, and thenceforth study this alone, to learn about the fair, and to depart. What then? they are mocked by the mult.i.tude. And in the fair, too, the observers are mocked by the traders; and had the cattle any reflection they would mock all those who cared for anything else than fodder.
CHAPTER VII.
TO THE LEARNER.
1. Remember that pursuit declares the aim of attaining the thing pursued, and avoidance that of not falling into the thing shunned; and he who fails in his pursuit is unfortunate, and it is misfortune to fall into what he would avoid. If now you shun only those things in your power which are contrary to Nature, you shall never fall into what you would avoid. But if you shun disease or death or poverty, you shall have misfortune.
2. Turn away, then, your avoidance from things not in our power, and set it upon things contrary to Nature which are in our power. And let pursuit for the present be utterly effaced; for if you are pursuing something that is not in our power, it must needs be that you miscarry, and of things that are, as many as you may rightly aim at, none are yet open to you. But use only desire and aversion, and that indeed lightly, and with reserve, and indifferently.
3. No great thing cometh suddenly into being, for not even a bunch of grapes can, or a fig. If you say to me now:_ I desire a fig_, I answer that there is need of time: let it first of all flower, and then bring forth the fruit, and then ripen. When the fruit of a fig-tree is not perfected at once, and in a single hour, would you win the fruit of a man"s mind thus quickly and easily? Even if I say to you, expect it not.
4. To fulfill the promise of a man"s nature is itself no common thing.
For what is a man? _A living creature_, say you; _mortal, and endowed with Reason_. And from what are we set apart by Reason? _From the wild beasts._ And what others? _From sheep and the like._ Look to it, then, that thou do nothing like a wild beast, for if thou do, the man in thee perisheth, thou hast not fulfilled his promise. Look to it, that thou do nothing like a sheep, or thus too the man hath perished. _What, then, can we do as sheep?_ When we are gluttonous, sensual, reckless, filthy, thoughtless, to what are we then sunken? To sheep. What have we lost?
Our faculty of Reason. And when we are contentious, and hurtful, and angry, and violent, to what are we sunken? To wild beasts. And for the rest some of us are great wild beasts, and some of us little and evil ones; whereby we may say, "Let me at least be eaten by a lion."[1] But through all these things the promise of the man"s nature has been ruined.
5. For when is a complex proposition safe?[2] When it fulfills its promise. So that the validity of a complex proposition is when it is a complex of truths. And when is a disjunctive safe? When it fulfills its promise. And when are flutes, or a lyre, or a horse, or a dog? What marvel is it, then, if a man also is to be saved in the same way, and perish in the same way?
6. But each thing is increased and saved by the corresponding works-the carpenter by the practice of carpentry, the grammarian by the study of grammar; but if he use to write ungrammatically, it must needs be that his art shall be corrupted and destroyed. Thus, too, the works of reverence save the reverent man, and those of shamelessness destroy him.
And works of faithfulness save the faithful man, and the contrary destroy him. And men of the contrary character are strengthened therein by contrary deeds; the irreverent by irreverence, the faithless by faithlessness, the reviler by reviling, the angry by anger, the avaricious by unfair giving and taking.
7. Know, that not easily shall a conviction arise in a man unless he every day speak the same things and hear the same things, and at the same time apply them unto life.
8. Every great power is perilous to beginners. Thou must bear such things according to thy strength. _But I must live according to Nature?_ That is not for a sick man.[3] Lead thy life as a sick man for a while, so that thou mayest hereafter live it as a whole man. Fast, drink water, abstain for a while from pursuit of every kind, in order that thou mayest pursue as Reason bids. And if as Reason bids, then when thou shalt have aught of good in thee, thy pursuit shall be well. _Nay, but we would live as sages and do good to men._ What good? What wilt thou do? Hast thou done good to thyself? But thou wouldst exhort them? And hast thou exhorted thyself?[4] Thou wouldst do them good-then do not chatter to them, but show them in thyself what manner of men philosophy can make. In thy eating do good to those that eat with thee, in thy drinking to those that drink, by yielding and giving place to all, and bearing with them. Thus do them good, and not by spitting thy bile upon them.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE CYNIC.
1. One of his pupils, who seemed to be drawn towards the way of Cynicism, inquired of Epictetus what manner of man the Cynic ought to be, and what was the natural conception of the thing. And Epictetus said: Let us look into it at leisure. But so much I have now to say to you, that whosoever shall without G.o.d attempt so great a matter stirreth up the wrath of G.o.d against him, and desireth only to behave himself unseemly before the people. For in no well-ordered house doth one come in and say to himself: _I should be the steward of the house_, else, when the lord of the house shall have observed it, and seeth him insolently giving orders, he will drag him forth and chastise him. So it is also, in this great city of the universe, for here too there is a master of the house who ordereth each and all: Thou art the Sun; thy power is to travel round and to make the year and the seasons, and to increase and nourish fruits, and to stir the winds and still them, and temperately to warm the bodies of men. Go forth, run thy course, and minister thus to the greatest things and to the least. Thou art a calf; when a lion shall appear, do what befits thee, or it shall be worse for thee. Thou art a bull; come forth and fight, for this is thy part and pride, and this thou canst. Thou art able to lead the army against Ilion; be Agamemnon. Thou canst fight in single combat with Hector; be Achilles. But if Thersites came forth and pretended to the authority, then either he would not gain it, or, gaining it, he would have been shamed before many witnesses.
2. And about this affair, do thou take thought upon it earnestly, for it is not such as it seemeth to thee. _I wear a rough cloak now, and I shall wear it then;[2] I sleep hard now, and I shall sleep so then. I will take to myself a wallet and staff, and I will begin to go about and beg, and to reprove every one I meet with; and if I shall see one that plucks out his hairs, I will censure him, or one that hath his hair curled, or that goes in purple raiment._ If thou conceivest the matter on this wise, far be it from thee-go not near it, it is not for thee.
But if thou conceivest of it as it is, and holdest thyself not unworthy of it, then behold to how great an enterprise thou art putting forth thine hand.
3. First, in things that concern thyself, thou must appear in nothing like unto what thou now doest. Thou must not accuse G.o.d nor man; thou must utterly give over pursuit, and avoid only those things that are in the power of thy will; anger is not meet for thee, nor resentment, nor envy, nor pity;[3] nor must a girl appear to thee fair, nor must reputation, nor a flat cake.[4] For it must be understood that other men shelter themselves by walls and houses and by darkness when they do such things, and many means of concealment have they. One shutteth the door, placeth some one before the chamber; _if any one should come, say, He is out, he is busy_. But in place of all these things it behooves the Cynic to shelter himself behind his own piety and reverence; but if he doth not, he shall be put to shame, naked under the sky. This is his house, this his door, this the guards of his chamber, this his darkness. For he must not seek to hide aught that he doeth, else he is gone, the Cynic hath perished, the man who lived under the open sky, the freeman. He hath begun to fear something from without, he hath begun to need concealment; nor can he find it when he would, for where shall he hide himself, and how? And if by chance this tutor, this public teacher, should be found in guilt, what things must he not suffer! And fearing these things, can he yet take heart with his whole soul to guide the rest of mankind? That can he never: it is impossible!
4. First, then, thou must purify thy ruling faculty and this vocation of thine also, saying: Now it is my mind I must shape, as the carpenter shapes wood and the shoemaker leather; and the thing to be formed is a right use of appearances. But nothing to me is the body, and nothing to me the parts of it. _Death?_ Let it come when it will, either death of the whole or of a part. _Flee it!_ And whither? Can any man cast me out of the universe? He cannot; but whithersoever I may go there will be the sun, and the moon, and there the stars, and visions, and omens, and communion with the G.o.ds.[5]
5. And, furthermore, when he hath thus fashioned himself, he will not be content with these things, who is a Cynic indeed. But know that he is an herald from G.o.d to men, declaring to them the truth about good and evil things; that they have erred, and are seeking the reality of good and evil where it is not; and where it is, they do not consider; and he is a spy, like Diogenes, when he was led captive to Philip after the battle of Chaeronea.[6] For the Cynic is, in truth, a spy of the things that are friendly to men, and that are hostile; and having closely spied out all, he must come back and declare the truth. And he must neither be stricken with terror and report of enemies where none are; nor be in any otherwise confounded or troubled by the appearances.
6. He must then be able, if so it chance, to go up impa.s.sioned, as on the tragic stage, and speak that word of Socrates, "O men, whither are ye borne away? What do ye? Miserable as ye are! like blind men ye wander up and down. Ye have left the true road, and are going by a false; ye are seeking peace and happiness where they are not, and if another shall show you where they are, ye believe him not. Wherefore will ye seek it in outward things? _In the body?_ It is not there-and if ye believe me not, lo, Myro! lo, Oph.e.l.lius.[7] _In possessions?_ It is not there, and if ye believe me not, lo, Crsus! lo, the wealthy of our own day, how full of mourning is their life! _In authority?_ It is not there, else should those be happy who have been twice or thrice consul; yet they are not. Whom shall we believe in this matter? You, who look but on these men from without, and are dazzled by the appearance, or the men themselves? And what say they? Hearken to them when they lament, when they groan, when by reason of those consulships, and their glory and renown, they hold their state the more full of misery and danger! _In royalty?_ It is not there; else were Nero happy and Sardanapalus; but not Agamemnon himself was happy, more splendid though he was than Nero or Sardanapalus; but while the rest are snoring what is he doing?
"He tore his rooted hair by handfuls out."-_Il._ x.
And what saith himself? "I am distraught," he saith, "and I am in anguish; my heart leaps forth from my bosom."-[_Il._ x.] Miserable man!
which of thy concerns hath gone wrong with thee? Thy wealth? Nay. Thy body? Nay; but thou art rich in gold and bronze. What ails thee then?
That part, whatever it be, with which we pursue, with which we avoid, with which we desire and dislike, thou hast neglected and corrupted. How hath it been neglected? He hath been ignorant of the true Good for which it was born, and of the Evil; and of what is his own, and what is alien to him. And when it goeth ill with something that is alien to him, he saith, _Woe is me, for the Greeks are in peril._ O unhappy mind of thee!
of all things alone neglected and untended. _They will be slain by the Trojans and die!_ And if the Trojans slay them not, will they not still die? _Yea, but not all together._ What, then, doth it matter? for if it be an evil to die, it is alike evil to die together or to die one by one. Shall anything else happen to them than the parting of body and soul? _Nothing._ And when the Greeks have perished, is the door closed to thee? canst thou not also die? _I can._ Wherefore, then, dost thou lament: _Woe is me, a king, and bearing the scepter of Zeus_? There is no unfortunate king, as there is no unfortunate G.o.d. What, then, art thou? In very truth a shepherd; for thou lamentest even as shepherds do when a wolf hath s.n.a.t.c.hed away one of the sheep; and sheep are they whom thou dost rule. And why art thou come hither? Was thy faculty of pursuit in any peril, or of avoidance, or thy desire or aversion? _Nay_, he saith, _but my brother"s wife was carried away_. Was it not a great gain to be rid of an adulterous wife? _Shall we be, then, despised of the Trojans?_ Of the Trojan? Of what manner of men? of wise men or fools? If of wise men, why do ye make war with them? if of fools, why do ye heed them?[8]
7. _In what, then, is the good, seeing that in these things it is not?
Tell us, thou, my lord missionary and spy!_ It is there where ye deem it not, and where ye have no desire to seek it. For did ye desire, ye would have found it in yourselves, nor would ye wander to things without, nor pursue things alien, as if they were your own concerns. Turn to your own selves; understand the natural conceptions which ye possess. What kind of thing do ye take the Good to be? Peace? happiness? freedom? Come, then, do ye not naturally conceive it as great, as precious, and that cannot be harmed? What kind of material, then, will ye take to shape peace and freedom withal-that which is enslaved or in that which is free? _That which is free._ Have ye the flesh enslaved or free? _We know not._ Know ye not that it is the slave of fever, of gout, of ophthalmia, of dysentery, of tyranny, and fire, and steel, and everything that is mightier than itself? _Yea, it is enslaved._ How, then, can aught that is of the body be free? and how can that be great or precious which by nature is dead, mere earth or mud?
8. What then? have ye nothing that is free? _It may be nothing._ And who can compel you to a.s.sent to an appearance that is false? _No man._ And who can compel you not to a.s.sent to an appearance that is true? _No man._ Here, then, ye see that there is in you something that is by nature free. But which of you, except he lay hold of some appearance of the profitable, or of the becoming, can either pursue or avoid, or desire or dislike, or adapt or intend anything? _No man._ In these things, too, then, ye have something that is unhindered and free. This, miserable men, must ye perfect; this have a care to, in this seek for the Good.
9. _And how is it possible that one can live prosperously who hath nothing; a naked, homeless, hearthless, beggarly man, without servants, without a country?_ Lo, G.o.d hath sent you a man to show you in very deed that it is possible. Behold me, that I have neither country, nor house, nor possessions, nor servants; I sleep on the ground; nor is a wife mine, nor children, nor domicile, but only earth and heaven, and a single cloak. And what is lacking to me? do ever I grieve? do I fear? am I not free? When did any of you see me fail of my pursuit, or meet with what I had avoided? When did I blame G.o.d or man? When did I accuse any man? When did any of you see me of a sullen countenance? How do I meet those whom ye fear and marvel at? Do I not treat them as my slaves? Who that seeth me, but thinketh he beholdeth his king and his lord?
10. So these are the accents of the Cynic, this his character, this his design. Not so-but it is his bag, and his staff, and his great jaws; and to devour all that is given to him, or store it up, or to reprove out of season every one that he may meet, or to show off his shoulder.[9]
11. Dost thou see how thou art about to take in hand so great a matter?
Take first a mirror, look upon thy shoulders, mark well thy loins and thighs. Thou art about to enter thy name for the Olympic games, O man; no cold and paltry contest. Nor canst thou then be merely overcome and then depart; but first thou must be shamed in the sight of all the world; and not alone of the Athenians, or Lacedaemonians, or Nicopolitans. And then if thou hast too rashly entered upon the contest thou must be thrashed, and before being thrashed must suffer thirst and scorching heat, and swallow much dust.
12. Consider more closely, know thyself, question thy genius,[10]
attempt nothing without G.o.d; who, if He counsel thee, be sure that He wills thee either to be great or to be greatly plagued. For this very agreeable circ.u.mstance is linked with the calling of a Cynic; he must be flogged like an a.s.s, and, being flogged, must love those who flog him, as though he were the father or brother of all mankind. Not so, but if one shall flog thee, stand in the midst and shriek out, _O Caesar, what things do I suffer in the Emperor"s peace! Let us take him before the pro-consul._ But what is Caesar to the Cynic? or what is a pro-consul? or what is any other than He that hath sent him hither, and whom he serveth, which is Zeus? Doth he call upon any other than G.o.d? Is he not persuaded, whatsoever things he may suffer, that he is being trained and exercised by G.o.d? Hercules, when he was exercised by Eurystheus, never deemed himself wretched; but fulfilled courageously all that was laid upon him. But he who shall cry out and bear it hard when he is being trained and exercised by Zeus, is he worthy to bear the scepter of Diogenes? Hear what Diogenes saith, when ill of a fever, to the bystanders: _Base souls, will ye not remain? To see the overthrow and combat of athletes, how great a way ye journey to Olympia; and have ye no will to see a combat between a fever and a man?_ And will such an one presently accuse G.o.d who hath sent him, as having used him ill-he who was glorying in his lot, and held himself worthy to be a spectacle to the bystanders? For of what shall he accuse Him: that his life is seemly, that he manifests G.o.d"s will, that he showeth forth his virtue more brightly? Come, then; and what saith he about death, about pain?
How did he compare his own happiness with that of the Great King? nay, he thought rather that there was no comparison. For where there are confusions, and griefs, and fears, and unattained pursuits, and avoidance in vain, and envy and rivalry, can the way to happiness lie there? But where rotten opinions are there must of necessity be all these things.
13. And the young man having asked whether one that hath fallen ill shall obey, if a friend desire that he will go home with him and be tended: Where, he said, will you show me the friend of a Cynic? For he himself must be even such another, so as to be worthy to be reckoned his friend. A sharer in the scepter and the royalty must he be, and a worthy servant, if he will be worthy of his friendship, as Diogenes was of Antisthenes and Crates of Diogenes. Or seems it so to thee that whosoever shall come to him and bid him hail is his friend? and that he will think him worthy that a Cynic shall go to his house? Thus if it please thee to be a Cynic, bethink thee rather of such a thing as this, and cast about for a dainty dungheap whereon to have thy fever; and see that it look away from the north, so that thou be not chilled. But thou seemest to me to wish to retreat into somebody"s house and spend thy time there, and be fed. What hast thou to do with undertaking so great a matter?