Book 2, Chapter 10
How Names Reveal Life's Duties
Consider who you are. In the first place, you are a man; and this is one who has nothing superior to the faculty of the will, but all other things subjected to it; and the faculty itself he possesses unenslaved and free from subjection. Consider then from what things you have been separated by reason. You have been separated from wild beasts: you have been separated from domestic animals (προβάτων). Further, you are a citizen of the world, and a part of it, not one of the subservient (serving), but one of the principal (ruling) parts, for you are capable of comprehending the divine administration and of considering the connexion of things. What then does the character of a citizen promise (profess)? To hold nothing as profitable to himself; to deliberate about nothing as if he were detached from the community, but to act as the hand or foot would do, if they had reason and understood the constitution of nature, for they would never put themselves in motion nor desire any thing otherwise than with reference to the whole. Therefore the philosophers say well, that if the good man had foreknowledge of what would happen, he would co-operate towards his own sickness and death and mutilation, since he knows that these things are assigned to him according to the universal arrangement, and that the whole is superior to the part, and the state to the citizen. But now because we do not know the future, it is our duty to stick to the things which are in their nature more suitable for our choice, for we were made among other things for this.
Consider who you are. First, you are a human being. Nothing in you is superior to your will. Everything else is subject to it, while your will itself is free and subject to nothing. Consider, then, what reason sets you apart from. It sets you apart from wild beasts and domestic animals (προβάτων). Further, you are a citizen of the world and a part of it. You are not one of its serving parts, but one of its ruling parts. You can understand how the divine governs the world and consider how things are connected. What, then, does it mean to be a citizen? It means considering nothing profitable for yourself alone. It means never deliberating as if you were separate from the community. Instead, you should act as a hand or foot would if it had reason and understood nature’s structure. It would never move or desire anything except with the whole in mind. The philosophers are right to say that a good man who knew the future would cooperate in his own sickness, death, and mutilation. He would do so because he knows that these things are assigned to him by the order of the universe. He knows that the whole is superior to the part, and the state to the citizen. But because we do not know the future, we should stick to what is naturally more suitable for us to choose. For this, among other things, is what we were made to do.
Cicero (de Fin. iv. 10). Seneca, Ep. 95.
See i. 9. M. Antoninus, vi. 44: 'But my nature is rational and social; and my city and country, so far as I am Antoninus, is Rome, but so far as I am a man, it is the world.' I have translated προβάτων as 'domestic animals.' I assume it refers to cattle, sheep, and goats.
This may seem extreme, but it can be explained and even accepted. If a man believes that all human events are wisely arranged, he would not try to resist what he knows he is destined to suffer. He would submit and endure. Perhaps Epictetus means that the man would actively promote the end or purpose he knew in advance. He would do so to make his actions consistent with that knowledge and with his duty. If so, the philosopher's saying is perhaps too difficult to deal with. It rests on the impossible assumption that someone can know the future. We may therefore be wiser than the philosophers if we say no more about it. Compare Seneca, de Provid. c. 5.
Antoninus, vi. 42: 'We are all working together to one end, some with knowledge and design, and others without knowing what they do.'
After this remember that you are a son. What does this character promise? To consider that every thing which is the son's belongs to the father, to obey him in all things, never to blame him to another, nor to say or do any thing which does him injury, to yield to him in all things and give way, co-operating with him as far as you can. After this know that you are a brother also, and that to this character it is due to make concessions; to be easily persuaded, to speak good of your brother, never to claim in opposition to him any of the things which are independent of the will, but readily to give them up, that you may have the larger share in what is dependent on the will. For see what a thing it is, in place of a lettuce, if it should so happen, or a seat, to gain for yourself goodness of disposition. How great is the advantage.
Next, remember that you are a son. What does this role require? Regard everything you have as belonging to your father. Obey him in all things. Never criticize him to anyone else, or say or do anything that harms him. Yield to him in all things, and cooperate with him as far as you can. Next, recognize that you are also a brother. This role requires you to make concessions, to be easily persuaded, and to speak well of your brother. Never compete with him for things outside your control. Instead, give them up readily, so that you may gain a greater share of what is within your control. Consider what it means to gain a good disposition in exchange for, say, a lettuce or a seat. How great the advantage is.
A lettuce is an example of something utterly trivial. A seat probably means a seat of authority, such as a magistrate's seat, a Roman sella curulis.
Next to this, if you are a senator of any state, remember that you are a senator: if a youth, that you are a youth: if an old man, that you are an old man; for each of such names, if it comes to be examined, marks out the proper duties. But if you go and blame your brother, I say to you, You have forgotten who you are and what is your name. In the next place, if you were a smith and made a wrong use of the hammer, you would have forgotten the smith; and if you have forgotten the brother and instead of a brother have become an enemy, would you appear not to have changed one thing for another in that case? And if instead of a man, who is a tame animal and social, you are become a mischievous wild beast, treacherous, and biting, have you lost nothing? But, (I suppose) you must lose a bit of money that you may suffer damage? And does the loss of nothing else do a man damage? If you had lost the art of grammar or music, would you think the loss of it a damage? and if you shall lose modesty, moderation (καταστολήν) and gentleness, do you think the loss nothing? And yet the things first mentioned are lost by some cause external and independent of the will, and the second by our own fault; and as to the first neither to have them nor to lose them is shameful; but as to the second, not to have them and to lose them is shameful and matter of reproach and a misfortune. What does the pathic lose? He loses the (character of) man. What does he lose who makes the pathic what he is? Many other things; and he also loses the man no less than the other. What does he lose who commits adultery? He loses the (character of the) modest, the temperate, the decent, the citizen, the neighbour. What does he lose who is angry? Something else. What does the coward lose? Something else. No man is bad without suffering some loss and damage. If then you look, for the damage in the loss of money only, all these men receive no harm or damage; it may be, they have even profit and gain, when they acquire a bit of money by any of these deeds. But consider that if you refer every thing to a small coin, not even he who loses his nose is in your opinion damaged. Yes, you say, for he is mutilated in his body. Well; but does he who has lost his smell only lose nothing? Is there then no energy of the soul which is an advantage to him who possesses it, and a damage to him who has lost it?—Tell me what sort (of energy) you mean.—Have we not a natural modesty ?—We have.—Does he who loses this sustain no damage? is he deprived of nothing, does he part with nothing of the things which belong to him? Have we not naturally fidelity? natural affection, a natural disposition to help others, a natural disposition to forbearance? The man then who allows himself to be damaged in these matters, can he be free from harm and uninjured What then? shall I not hurt him, who has hurt me? In the first place consider what hurt (βλάβη) is, and remember what you have heard from the philosophers. For if the good consists in the will (purpose, intention, προαιρέσει), and the evil also in the will, see if what you say is not this: What then, since that man has hurt himself by doing an unjust act to me, shall I not hurt myself by doing some unjust act to him? Why do we not imagine to ourselves (mentally think of) something of this kind? But where there is any detriment to the body or to our possession, there is harm there; and where the same thing happens to the faculty of the will, there is (you suppose) no harm; for he who has been deceived or he who has done an unjust act neither suffers in the head nor in the eye nor in the hip, nor does he lose his estate; and we wish for nothing else than (security to) these things. But whether we shall have the will modest and faithful or shameless and faithless, we care not the least, except only in the school so far as a few words are concerned. Therefore our proficiency is limited to these few words; but beyond them it does not exist even in the slightest degree.
Next, if you are a senator of any state, remember that you are a senator. If you are young, remember that you are young. If you are old, remember that you are old. Each of these names, when examined, sets out its proper duties. But if you go and blame your brother, I say you have forgotten who you are and what you are called. If you were a blacksmith and misused your hammer, you would have forgotten that you were a blacksmith. And if you have forgotten that you are a brother and become an enemy instead, have you not exchanged one thing for another? A human being is a gentle, social animal. If you become a vicious wild beast, treacherous and biting, have you lost nothing? But I suppose you must lose a little money before you can suffer harm. Does the loss of anything else do a person no harm? If you lost your knowledge of grammar or music, would you consider that a loss? And if you lose modesty, moderation (καταστολήν), and gentleness, do you think that loss is nothing? The first things are lost through some external cause beyond our control. The second are lost through our own fault. There is no shame in lacking or losing the first. But lacking or losing the second is shameful, blameworthy, and a misfortune. What does the pathic lose? He loses the character of a man. What does the man who makes the pathic what he is lose? He loses many other things, and he loses the character of a man no less than the pathic does. What does the man who commits adultery lose? He loses the character of a modest, self-controlled, decent person, a citizen, and a neighbor. What does the angry man lose? Something else. What does the coward lose? Something else. No one is bad without suffering some loss and harm. If you look only for lost money, then none of these men suffers harm or loss. They may even profit and gain when they earn a little money through any of these deeds. But consider this. If you measure everything by a small coin, then even a man who loses his nose has suffered no harm in your opinion. You say, “Yes, he has, because his body has been mutilated.” But has a man who has lost only his sense of smell lost nothing? Is there no power of the soul that benefits the person who has it and whose loss harms him? You ask, “What sort of power do you mean?” Do we not have a natural sense of modesty? We do. Does someone who loses it suffer no harm? Is he deprived of nothing? Has he lost nothing that belongs to him? Do we not naturally have faithfulness, affection, a desire to help others, and a willingness to be patient with them? Can a man who lets himself be damaged in these ways be free from harm and uninjured? “What then? Shall I not hurt the man who has hurt me?” First, consider what harm (βλάβη) is. Remember what you have heard from the philosophers. Good lies in the will (purpose, intention, προαιρέσει), and evil lies in the will too. So consider whether what you are saying is this: “That man hurt himself by treating me unjustly. Shall I not hurt myself by treating him unjustly?” Why do we not picture it this way? Instead, we think harm occurs when our bodies or possessions are damaged. But we suppose there is no harm when the same thing happens to our faculty of will. After all, the person who has been deceived or has acted unjustly suffers no injury to his head, eye, or hip. Nor does he lose his property. And all we want is to keep these things safe. But we do not care in the least whether our will is modest and faithful or shameless and faithless. We care only enough to say a few words about it in the classroom. So our progress is limited to those few words. Beyond them, it does not exist in the slightest degree.
This person may be unharmed. See Schweig.'s note.
Socrates. So we must never act unjustly. Crito. Certainly not. Socrates. Nor must you do wrong in return when someone wrongs you, as most people think you should. You must never act unjustly. Plato, Crito, c. 10.
See the beginning of ii. 16.
The same observation applies to most talks and writings on moral subjects. For the speaker or writer, they are exercises in skill. For the listener, they are something to criticize and perhaps a way to pass an idle hour. That is all. Epictetus criticizes our laziness and indifference toward action, and the trivial debates of the schools of philosophy.