Book 1, Chapter 20

How Reason Examines Itself.[146]

3 min

Every art and faculty contemplates certain things especially. When then it is itself of the same kind with the objects which it contemplates, it must of necessity contemplate itself also: but when it is of an unlike kind, it cannot contemplate itself. For instance, the shoemaker's art is employed on skins, but itself is entirely distinct from the material of skins: for this reason it does not contemplate itself. Again, the grammarian's art is em ployed about articulate speech; is then the art also articulate speech? By no means. For this reason it is not able to contemplate itself. Now reason, for what purpose has it been given by nature? For the right use of appearances. What is it then itself? A system (combination) of certain appearances. So by its nature it has the faculty of contemplating itself also. Again, sound sense, for the contemplation of what things does it belong to us? Good and evil, and things which are neither. What is it then itself? Good. And want of sense, what is it? Evil. Do you see then that good sense necessarily contemplates both itself and the opposite? For this reason it is the chief and the first work of a philosopher to examine appearances, and to distinguish them, and to admit none without examination. You see even in the matter of coin, in which our interest appears to be somewhat concerned, how we have invented an art, and how many means the assayer uses to try the value of coin, the sight, the touch, the smell, and lastly the hearing. He throws the coin (denarius) down, and observes the sound, and he is not content with its sounding once, but through his great attention he becomes a musician. In like manner, where we think that to be mistaken and not to be mistaken make a great difference, there we apply great attention to discovering the things which can deceive. But in the matter of our miserable ruling faculty, yawning and sleeping, we carelessly admit every appearance, for the harm is not noticed.

Every art and faculty examines certain things in particular. If it is of the same kind as the things it examines, it must also examine itself. But if it is of a different kind, it cannot examine itself. For example, the shoemaker’s art deals with leather, but the art itself is entirely different from leather. For this reason, it does not examine itself. Again, the grammarian’s art deals with spoken language. Is the art itself spoken language? Not at all. For this reason, it cannot examine itself. Now, why has nature given us reason? To make proper use of appearances. What, then, is reason itself? A combination of certain appearances. So by its nature, reason can also examine itself. Again, what does good sense examine? Good, evil, and things that are neither. What, then, is good sense itself? Good. And what is lack of sense? Evil. Do you see, then, that good sense must examine both itself and its opposite? For this reason, a philosopher’s first and most important task is to examine appearances, distinguish between them, and accept none without examination. Consider even the matter of coins, where our interests seem to be somewhat at stake. We have developed an art for testing them. See how many methods the assayer uses to test a coin’s value: sight, touch, smell, and finally hearing. He drops the coin (a denarius) and listens to the sound. He is not satisfied with hearing it once. He pays such close attention that he becomes a musician. Similarly, whenever we think that being mistaken or not makes a great difference, we pay close attention to what might deceive us. But when it comes to our miserable ruling faculty, we yawn and sleep and carelessly accept every appearance, because we do not notice the harm.

Wolf suggests reading προηγουμένως instead of προηγουμένων.

See Schweighaeuser's note.

Comparing lib. i. chap. 1 will help explain this chapter. See also lib. i. chap. 17.

When then you would know how careless you are with respect to good and evil, and how active with respect to things which are indifferent (neither good nor evil), observe how you feel with respect to being deprived of the sight of the eyes, and how with respect to being deceived, and you will discover that you are far from feeling as you ought to do in relation to good and evil. But this is a matter which requires much preparation, and much labour and study. Well then do you expect to acquire the greatest of arts with small labour? And yet the chief doctrine of philosophers is very brief. If you would know, read Zeno's writings and you will see For how few words it requires to say that man's end (or object) is to follow the gods, and that the nature of good is a proper use of appearances. But if you say, What is God, what is appearance, and what is particular and what is universal nature? then indeed many words are necessary. If then Epicurus should come and say, that the good must be in the body; in this case also many words become necessary, and we must be taught what is the leading principle in us, and the fundamental and the substantial; and as it is not probable that the good of a snail is in the shell, is it probable that the good of a man is in the body? But you yourself, Epicurus, possess something better than this. What is that in you which deliberates, what is that which examines every thing, what is that which forms a judgment about the body itself, that it is the principal part? and why do you light your lamp and labour for us, and write so many books? is it that we may not be ignorant of the truth, who we are, and what we are with respect to you? Thus the discussion requires many words.

If you want to know how little you care about good and evil, observe your own feelings. See how you feel about losing your eyesight and how you feel about being deceived. You will also see how concerned you are with things that are indifferent (neither good nor evil). And you will discover that you are far from feeling as you should about good and evil. But learning to feel as you should requires much preparation, labor, and study. Do you expect to master the greatest of arts with little effort? Yet the central teaching of philosophers is very brief. If you want to know it, read Zeno's writings. You will see how few words it takes to say that a person's goal is to follow the gods. And you will see how briefly he says that good consists in the proper use of appearances. But suppose you ask, What is God? What is an appearance? What are particular and universal nature? Then many words are indeed needed. Now suppose Epicurus comes and says that good must lie in the body. Here too, many words are needed. We must learn what our ruling principle is, what is fundamental and essential in us. A snail's good is unlikely to lie in its shell. Is it then likely that a person's good lies in the body? But you yourself, Epicurus, possess something better than your body. What is it in you that deliberates? What examines everything? What judges the body itself to be the most important part? And why do you light your lamp and labor for us, writing so many books? Is it so that we may know the truth about who we are and what we are in relation to you? So the discussion requires many words.

"We reckon death among the things which are indifferent (indifferentia), which the Greeks name ἀδιάφορα. But I name 'indifferent' the things which are neither good nor bad, as disease, pain, poverty, exile, death." (Seneca, Ep. 82.)

Zeno was from Citium, on the island of Cyprus. He is said to have come to Athens as a young man. He spent the rest of his long life there studying and teaching philosophy. He founded the Stoic school and was respected for his ability and high character. He wrote many works on philosophy. Cleanthes succeeded Zeno as head of the school.

Follow. See i. 12, 5.

"I now have what the universal nature wills me to have, and I do what my nature now wills me to do." M. Antoninus, v. 25, and xi. 5. Epictetus never tries to say what God is. He was too wise to try what humans cannot do. But people do try, and they only show how foolish their attempts are. I think they also show their presumption.

Epicurus is said to have written more than anyone else, as many as three hundred volumes (κύλινδροι, rolls). Chrysippus rivaled him in this respect. If Epicurus wrote anything, Chrysippus tried to write as much. As a result, Chrysippus often repeated himself because he did not reread what he had written. In his hurry, he also left his writings uncorrected. Diogenes Laertius, x. (Upton). See i. 4.