Book 2, Chapter 13
Anxiety (Worry)
When I see a man anxious, I say, What does this man want? If he did not want some thing which is not in his power, how could he be anxious? For this reason a lute player when he is singing by himself has no anxiety, but when he enters the theatre, he is anxious even if he has a good voice and plays well on the lute; for he not only wishes to sing well, but also to obtain applause: but this is not in his power. Accordingly, where he has skill, there he has confidence. Bring any single person who knows nothing of music, and the musician does not care for him. But in the matter where a man knows nothing and has not been practised, there he is anxious. What matter is this? He knows not what a crowd is or what the praise of a crowd is. However he has learned to strike the lowest chord and the highest; but what the praise of the many is, and what power it has in life he neither knows nor has he thought about it. Hence he must of necessity tremble and grow pale. I cannot then say that a man is not a lute player when I see him afraid, but I can say something else, and not one thing, but many. And first of all I call him a stranger and say, This man does not know in what part of the world he is, but though he has been here so long, he is ignorant of the laws of the State and the customs, and what is permitted and what is not; and he has never employed any lawyer to tell him and to explain the laws. But a man does not write a will, if he does not know how it ought to be written, or he employs a person who does know; nor does he rashly seal a bond or write a security. But he uses his desire without a lawyer's advice, and aversion, and pursuit (movement), and attempt and purpose. How do you mean without a lawyer? He does not know that he wills what is not allowed, and does not will that which is of necessity; and he does not know either what is his own or what is another man's; but if he did know, he would never be impeded, he would never be hindered, he would not be anxious. How so?—Is any man then afraid about things which are not evils?—No.—Is he afraid about things which are evils, but still so far within his power that they may not happen?—Certainly he is not.—If then the things which are independent of the will are neither good nor bad, and all things which do depend on the will are within our power, and no man can either take them from us or give them to us, if we do not choose, where is room left for anxiety? But we are anxious about our poor body, our little property, about the will of Caesar; but not anxious about things internal. Are we anxious about not forming a false opinion?—No, for this is in my power.—About not exerting our movements contrary to nature?—No, not even about this.—When then you see a man pale, as the physician says, judging from the complexion, this man's spleen is disordered, that man's liver; so also say, this man's desire and aversion are disordered, he is not in the right way, he is in a fever. For nothing else changes the colour, or causes trembling or chattering of the teeth, or causes a man to
When I see an anxious man, I ask, What does he want? If he did not want something beyond his power, how could he be anxious? That is why a lute player feels no anxiety when singing alone. But when he enters the theater, he is anxious, even if he has a good voice and plays well. He wants not only to sing well but also to win applause. But applause is not in his power. So he is confident where he has skill. Bring him someone who knows nothing about music, and the musician pays him no mind. But a man is anxious where he has neither knowledge nor practice. What is it that the musician does not know? He does not know what a crowd is or what its praise is. He has learned to play the lowest and highest notes, though. But he neither knows nor has considered what the praise of the many is or what power it has in life. So he is bound to tremble and turn pale. When I see a man afraid, I cannot say that he is not a lute player. But I can say something else, and not just one thing, but many. First, I call him a stranger. I say, This man does not know where in the world he is. Though he has been here so long, he does not know the laws and customs of the State. He does not know what is permitted and what is not. And he has never hired a lawyer to tell him and explain the laws. A man does not write a will if he does not know how. Or he hires someone who does know. Nor does he carelessly sign a bond or give a guarantee. But he uses his desire and aversion, his pursuit (movement), his attempts and his purposes without a lawyer's advice. What do I mean by without a lawyer? He does not know that he wants what is not permitted and rejects what must happen. He does not know what is his own and what belongs to another. But if he knew, he would never be blocked or held back. He would not be anxious. How so? Is anyone afraid of things that are not evils? No. Is he afraid of evils he has the power to prevent? Certainly not. Things independent of the will are neither good nor bad. All things that depend on the will are within our power. No one can take them from us or give them to us against our will. If that is so, where is there any room for anxiety? Yet we are anxious about our poor body, our little property, and the will of Caesar. We are not anxious about what is within us. Are we anxious about forming a false opinion? No, for that is in my power. Are we anxious about acting against nature? No, not even about that. When you see a man who is pale, speak as a physician does. A physician judges by a man's complexion and says, This man's spleen is disordered, or that man's liver. In the same way, say, This man's desire and aversion are disordered. He is not on the right path. He has a fever. For nothing else changes his color, makes him tremble or chatter his teeth, or causes a man to
See i. 29, note 20.
Sink in his knees and shift from foot to foot.—Iliad, xiii. 281.
Bend his knees and shift from foot to foot. Iliad, 13. 281.
For this reason when Zeno was going to meet Antigonus, he was not anxious, for Antigonus had no power over any of the things which Zeno admired; and Zeno did not care for those things over which Antigonus had power. But Antigonus was anxious when he was going to meet Zeno, for he wished to please Zeno; but this was a thing external (out of his power). But Zeno did not want to please Antigonus; for no man who is skilled in any art wishes to please one who has no such skill.
For this reason, Zeno was not anxious when he went to meet Antigonus. Antigonus had no power over anything Zeno admired. And Zeno did not care about the things Antigonus did have power over. But Antigonus was anxious when he went to meet Zeno. He wanted to please Zeno, but that was outside his control. Zeno, however, did not want to please Antigonus. For no one skilled in an art wants to please someone who lacks that skill.
Diogenes Laertius (Zeno, vii.) includes a letter from Antigonus to Zeno and Zeno's reply. Simplicius (note on the Encheiridion, c. 51) assumes that Antigonus is the King of Syria. But Upton says that he is Antigonus Gonatas, king of Macedonia.
Should I try to please you? Why? I suppose, you know the measure by which one man is estimated by another. Have you taken pains to learn what is a good man and what is a bad man, and how a man becomes one or the other? Why then are you not good yourself?—How, he replies, am I not good?—Because no good man laments or groans or weeps, no good man is pale and trembles, or says, How will he receive me, how will he listen to me?—Slave, just as it pleases him. Why do you care about what belongs to others? Is it now his fault if he receives badly what proceeds from you?—Certainly.— And is it possible that a fault should be one man's, and the evil in another?—No.—Why then are you anxious about that which belongs to others?—Your question is reasonable; but I am anxious how I shall speak to him. Cannot you then speak to him as you choose?—But I fear that I may be disconcerted?—If you are going to write the name of Dion, are you afraid that you would be disconcerted?—By no means.—Why? is it not because you have practised writing the name?—Certainly.—Well, if you were going to read the name, would you not feel the same? and why? Because every art has a certain strength and confidence in the things which belong to it.—Have you then not practised speaking? and what else did you learn in the school? Syllogisms and sophistical propositions? For what purpose? was it not for the purpose of discoursing skilfully? and is not discoursing skilfully the same as discoursing seasonably and cautiously and with intelligence, and also without making mistakes and without hindrance, and besides all this with confidence?—Yes.—When then you are mounted on a horse and go into a plain, are you anxious at being matched against a man who is on foot, and anxious in a matter in which you are practised, and he is not?—Yes, but that person (to whom I am going to speak) has power to kill me. Speak the truth then, unhappy man, and do not brag, nor claim to be a philosopher, nor refuse to acknowledge your masters, but so long as you present this handle in your body, follow every man who is stronger than yourself. Socrates used to practise speaking, he who talked as he did to the tyrants, to the dicasts (judges), he who talked in his prison. Diogenes had practised speaking, he who spoke as he did to Alexander, to the pirates, to the person who bought him. These men were confident in the things which they practised. But do you walk off to your own affairs and never leave them: go and sit in a corner, and weave syllogisms, and propose them to another. There is not in you the man who can rule a state.
Should I try to please you? Why? I suppose you know the standard by which one person judges another. Have you taken pains to learn what makes a person good or bad, and how a person becomes either? Then why aren't you good yourself? “How am I not good?” he replies. Because no good man laments, groans, or weeps. No good man turns pale and trembles, or says, “How will he receive me? How will he listen to me?” Slave, he will receive you and listen to you however he pleases. Why do you care about what belongs to others? If he receives what you say badly, isn't that his fault? “Certainly.” And can the fault be one person's and the harm another's? “No.” Then why are you anxious about what belongs to others? “That's a reasonable question. But I'm anxious about how I will speak to him.” Can't you speak to him as you choose? “But I'm afraid I may become flustered.” If you were going to write the name of Dion, would you be afraid of becoming flustered? “Not at all.” Why? Isn't it because you have practiced writing the name? “Certainly.” Well, if you were going to read the name, wouldn't you feel the same confidence? Why? Because every skill brings a certain strength and confidence in matters related to it. Haven't you practiced speaking, then? What else did you learn at school? Syllogisms and sophistical propositions? What for? Wasn't it so that you could speak skillfully? And doesn't speaking skillfully mean speaking at the right time, cautiously and intelligently? Doesn't it also mean speaking without mistakes or obstacles, and with confidence besides? “Yes.” Suppose you are on horseback in an open field, matched against a man on foot. Are you anxious, even though you are practiced in riding and he is not? “Yes, but the person I am going to speak to has the power to kill me.” Then tell the truth, unhappy man. Don't boast or claim to be a philosopher. Don't refuse to acknowledge your masters. As long as you offer them this hold over your body, follow every man who is stronger than you. Socrates practiced speaking. He spoke as he did to the tyrants, to the judges, and in prison. Diogenes practiced speaking. He spoke as he did to Alexander, to the pirates, and to the person who bought him. These men were confident in what they had practiced. But you, go back to your own affairs and never leave them. Go and sit in a corner, make up syllogisms, and put them to someone else. You are not the man to rule a state.
See i. c. 7.
The original is 'but that person (ἐκεῖνος) has power to kill me.' 'That person' must be the person already mentioned. Mrs. Carter was right to add this explanation.
They were called the Thirty tyrants of Athens (Xenophon, Hellenica, ii.). Socrates spoke with Critias and Charicles, two of the Thirty. Their conversation is reported in Xenophon's Memorabilia (i. 2, 33). Socrates' defence before those who tried him and his conversation in prison are reported in Plato's Apology, and in the Phaedon and Crito. Diogenes was captured by some pirates and sold (iv. 1, 115).
There is some corruption here.