Book 2, Chapter 14
To Naso
When a certain Roman entered with his son and listened to one reading, Epictetus said, This is the method of instruction; and he stopped. When the Roman asked him to go on, Epictetus said, Every art when it is taught causes labour to him who is unacquainted with it and is unskilled in it, and indeed the things which proceed from the arts immediately show their use in the purpose for which they were made; and most of them contain something attractive and pleasing. For indeed to be present and to observe how a shoemaker learns is not a pleasant thing; but the shoe is useful and also not disagreeable to look at. And the discipline of a smith when he is learning is very disagreeable to one who chances to be present and is a stranger to the art: but the work shows the use of the art. But you will see this much more in music; for if you are present while a person is learning, the discipline will appear most disagreeable; and yet the results of music are pleasing and delightful to those who know nothing of music. And here we conceive the work of a philosopher to be something of this kind: he must adapt his wish (βούλησιν) to what is going on, so that neither any of the things which are taking place shall take place contrary to our wish, nor any of the things which do not take place shall not take place when we wish that they should. From this the result is to those who have so arranged the work of philosophy, not to fail in the desire, nor to fall in with that which they would avoid; without uneasiness, without fear, without perturbation to pass through life themselves, together with their associates maintaining the relations both natural and acquired, as the relation of son, of father, of brother, of citizen, of man, of wife, of neighbour, of fellow traveller, of ruler, of ruled. The work of a philosopher we conceive to be something like this. It remains next to inquire how this must be accomplished.
A Roman came in with his son and listened to someone reading. Epictetus said, “This is the method of instruction,” and stopped. When the Roman asked him to continue, Epictetus said, “Learning any art requires hard work from someone unfamiliar with it and unskilled in it. Yet the things produced by the arts immediately show their use for the purposes they were made for. Most of them are also attractive and pleasing. “It is not pleasant to watch someone learning to be a shoemaker. But the shoe is useful and not unpleasant to look at. Watching a smith train is very unpleasant for a visitor who knows nothing of the art. But the finished work shows the art’s usefulness. “You will see this even more clearly in music. If you watch someone learning, the training will seem most unpleasant. Yet the results of music are pleasing and delightful to those who know nothing about it. “Here we understand the work of a philosopher to be something like this: he must bring his wishes (βούλησιν) into harmony with what happens. Then nothing that happens will be contrary to our wishes. And nothing will fail to happen when we wish it to happen. “Those who have arranged the work of philosophy in this way will get what they desire and avoid what they wish to avoid. They will pass through life without uneasiness, fear, or disturbance. Along with their associates, they will maintain their natural and acquired relationships. These include the relationships of son, father, brother, citizen, man, wife, neighbor, fellow traveler, ruler, and ruled. “This is roughly what we understand the work of a philosopher to be. We must now ask how it is to be accomplished.”
Encheiridion, c. 8: 'Do not seek (wish) that things which take place shall take place as you desire, but desire that things which take place shall take place as they do, and you will live a tranquil life.'
Compare iii. 2. 4, iv. 8. 20. Antoninus (viii. 27) writes: "There are three relations [between thee and other things]: the one to the body which surrounds thee; the second to the divine cause from which all things come to all; and the third to those who live with thee." This is precise, true, and practical. Those who object to 'the divine cause' may replace it with 'the nature and constitution of things.' There is a constitution of things that the philosopher tries to discover. For most practical purposes, its origin does not matter. It makes no difference whether we say it is divine, has some other origin, or has no discoverable origin. The fact remains that a constitution of things exists. If that expression is not accepted, we may say that we believe it exists and cannot help thinking so.
We see then that the carpenter (τέκτων) when he has learned certain things becomes a carpenter; the pilot by learning certain things becomes a pilot. May it not then in philosophy also not be sufficient to wish to be wise and good, and that there is also a necessity to learn certain things? We inquire then what these things are. The philosophers say that we ought first to learn that there is a God and that he provides for all things; also that it is not possible to conceal from him our acts, or even our intentions and thoughts. The next thing is to learn what is the nature of the Gods; for such as they are discovered to be, he, who would please and obey them, must try with all his power to be like them. If the divine is faithful, man also must be faithful; if it is free, man also must be free; if beneficent, man also must be beneficent; if magnanimous, man also must be magnanimous; as being then an imitator of God he must do and say every thing consistently with this fact.
We see that a carpenter (τέκτων) becomes a carpenter by learning certain things. A pilot becomes a pilot by learning certain things. Might the same be true in philosophy? Might it not be enough to wish to be wise and good? Might we also need to learn certain things? So we ask what those things are. The philosophers say we should first learn that there is a God and that he provides for all things. We must also learn that we cannot hide our actions, intentions, or even our thoughts from him. Next, we must learn what the gods are like. Anyone who wishes to please and obey them must try with all their power to be like them. If the divine is faithful, a person must also be faithful. If it is free, a person must also be free. If it is generous, a person must also be generous. If it is magnanimous, a person must also be magnanimous. So, as an imitator of God, a person must act and speak accordingly in everything.
With what then must we begin? If you will enter on the discussion, I will tell you that you must first understand names (words).—So then you say that I do not now understand names.—You do not understand them.—How then do I use them?—Just as the illiterate use written language, as cattle use appearances: for use is one thing, understanding is another. But if you think that you understand them, produce whatever word you please, and let us try whether we understand it.—But it is a disagreeable thing for a man to be confuted who is now old, and, it may be, has now served his three campaigns.—I too know this: for now you are come to me as if you were in want of nothing: and what could you even imagine to be wanting to you? You are rich, you have children and a wife perhaps, and many slaves: Caesar [3] knows you, in Rome you have many friends, you render their dues to all, you know how to requite him who does you a favour, and to repay in the same kind him who does you a wrong. What do you lack? If then I shall shew you that you lack the things most necessary and the chief things for happiness, and that hitherto you have looked after every thing rather than what you ought, and, to crown all, that you neither know what God is nor what man is, nor what is good nor what is bad; and as to what I have said about your ignorance of other matters, that may perhaps be endured, but if I say that you know nothing about yourself, how is it possible that you should endure me and bear the proof and stay here? It is not possible; but you immediately go off in bad humour. And yet what harm have I done you? unless the mirror also injures the ugly man because it shows him to himself such as he is; unless the physician also is supposed to insult the sick man, when he says to him, Man, do you think that you ail nothing? But you have a fever: go without food to-day; drink water. And no one says, what an insult! But if you say to a man, Your desires are inflamed, your aversions are low, your intentions are inconsistent, your pursuits (movements) are not conformable to nature, your opinions are rash and false, the man immediately goes away and says, He has insulted me.
Where must we begin, then? If you are willing to discuss the matter, I will tell you. First, you must understand names (words). “So you say I do not understand words now.” “You do not understand them.” “Then how do I use them?” “As illiterate people use written language, or as cattle use the impressions they receive. Using something is one thing, understanding it is another. But if you think you understand words, choose any word you like. Let us see whether we understand it.” “But it is unpleasant for a man to be proved wrong when he is already old and may have served three campaigns.” I know that too. You have come to me as if you lacked nothing. What could you even imagine you lack? You are rich. Perhaps you have children and a wife, and many slaves. Caesar [3] knows you, and you have many friends in Rome. You give everyone what you owe them. You know how to return a favor and how to repay a wrong in kind. What do you lack? Suppose I show you that you lack the things most necessary and most important for happiness. Suppose I show you that until now you have attended to everything except what you should have attended to. And, to top it all off, suppose I show you that you know neither what God is nor what man is, nor what is good or bad. Perhaps you could bear being told that you are ignorant of those other things. But if I say you know nothing about yourself, how could you put up with me, endure the proof, and stay here? You could not. You would immediately leave in a bad mood. Yet what harm have I done you? Does a mirror harm an ugly man by showing him what he looks like? Does a doctor insult a sick man by saying, “Man, do you think nothing is wrong with you? You have a fever. Eat nothing today, and drink water”? No one says, “What an insult!” But tell a man, “Your desires are inflamed, your aversions are base, and your intentions are inconsistent. Your pursuits (movements) do not conform to nature, and your opinions are rash and false.” He immediately leaves and says, “He has insulted me.”
See ii. 10, i. 17. 12, ii. 11. 4, etc. M. Antoninus, x. 8.
The original is 'to add the colophon,' a proverbial expression meaning to put the finishing touch on something.
Our way of dealing is like that of a crowded assembly. Beasts are brought to be sold and oxen; and the greater part of the men come to buy and sell, and there are some few who come to look at the market and to inquire how it is carried on, and why, and who fixes the meeting and for what purpose. So it is here also in this assembly (of life) some like cattle trouble themselves about nothing except their fodder. For to all of you who are busy about possessions and lands and slaves and magisterial offices, these are nothing except fodder. But there are a few who attend the assembly, men who love to look on and consider what is the world, who governs it. Has it no governor? And how is it possible that a city or a family cannot continue to exist, not even the shortest time without an administrator and guardian, and that so great and beautiful a system should be administered with such order and yet without a purpose and by chance? There is then an administrator. What kind of administrator and how does he govern? And who are we, who were produced by him, and for what purpose? Have we some connexion with him and some relation towards him, or none? This is the way in which these few are affected, and then they apply themselves only to this one thing, to examine the meeting and then to go away. What then? They are ridiculed by the many, as the spectators at the fair are by the traders; and if the beasts had any understanding, they would ridicule those who admired anything else than fodder.
The way we live is like a crowded fair. Animals and oxen are brought there to be sold. Most people come to buy and sell. A few come to look around and ask how the fair is run and why. They also ask who organizes it and for what purpose. It is the same at the fair of life. Some people, like cattle, concern themselves with nothing but their feed. For all of you who are busy with possessions, lands, slaves, and public offices, these things are nothing but feed. But a few people come to the fair because they love to observe and consider what the world is and who governs it. Does it have no governor? A city or a family cannot survive even briefly without someone to manage and protect it. How, then, could so vast and beautiful a system be governed so orderly, yet without purpose and by chance? There must be someone who governs it. What kind of governor is he, and how does he govern? And who are we, whom he created, and why did he create us? Do we have some connection and relationship with him, or none? These are the concerns of the few. They devote themselves to one thing: examining the fair and then leaving it. What happens to them? The many ridicule them, just as traders ridicule spectators at a fair. And if the animals had any understanding, they would ridicule anyone who admired anything other than feed.
See the fragments of Menander quoted by Upton.
Because humans have some intelligence, Voltaire concludes that we must admit there is a greater intelligence. (Letter to Mde. Necker. Vol. 67, ed. Kehl. p. 278.)
Sunt in Fortunae qui casibus omnia ponunt, Et mundum credunt nullo rectore moveri. Juvenal, xiii. 86.
Some believe everything depends on chance and that the world moves without anyone guiding it. Juvenal, xiii. 86.