Book 2, Chapter 16

We Do Not Strive to Use Our Views on Good and Evil

9 min

Where is the good? In the will. Where is the evil? In the will. Where is neither of them? In those things which are independent of the will. Well then? Does any one among us think of these lessons out of the schools? Does any one meditate (strive) by himself to give an answer to things as in the case of questions? Is it day?—Yes.—Is it night?—No.—Well, is the number of stars even?—I cannot say.—When money is shown (offered) to you, have you studied to make the proper answer, that money is not a good thing? Have you practised yourself in these answers, or only against sophisms? Why do you wonder then if in the cases which you have studied, in those you have improved; but in those which you have not studied, in those you remain the same? When the rhetorician knows that he has written well, that he has committed to memory what he has written, and brings an agreeable voice, why is he still anxious? Because he is not satisfied with having studied. What then does he want? To be praised by the audience? For the purpose then of being able to practise declamation he has been disciplined; but with respect to praise and blame he has not been disciplined. For when did he hear from any one what praise is, what blame is, what the nature of each is, what kind of praise should be sought, or what kind of blame should be shunned? And when did he practise this discipline which follows these words (things)? Why then do you still wonder, if in the matters which a man has learned, there he surpasses others, and in those in which he has not been disciplined, there he is the same with the many. So the lute player knows how to play, sings well, and has a fine dress, and yet he trembles when he enters on the stage; for these matters he understands, but he does not know what a crowd is, nor the shouts of a crowd, nor what ridicule is. Neither does he know what anxiety is, whether it is our work or the work of another, whether it is possible to stop it or not. For this reason if he has been praised, he leaves the theatre puffed up, but if he has been ridiculed, the swollen bladder has been punctured and subsides.

Where is good? In the will. Where is evil? In the will. Where are neither good nor evil? In things outside the will’s control. Well then, does anyone among us think about these lessons outside the classroom? Does anyone practice responding to events alone, as if answering questions? Is it day? Yes. Is it night? No. Well, is the number of stars even? I cannot say. When someone offers you money, have you studied how to give the proper answer, that money is not good? Have you practiced giving such answers, or only answering false arguments? Why are you surprised, then, that you have improved in what you studied? And why are you surprised that you remain unchanged in what you have not studied? A speaker knows that he has written well and memorized what he wrote. He also has a pleasing voice. So why is he still anxious? Because he is not satisfied with having studied. What else does he want? Praise from the audience? He has trained himself to deliver speeches, but he has not trained himself to deal with praise and blame. When has anyone taught him what praise and blame are, or what the nature of each is? When has anyone taught him what praise he should seek or what blame he should avoid? And when has he practiced the discipline that follows from these lessons? Why, then, are you still surprised when a man surpasses others in what he has learned? And why are you surprised that he is just like most people in what he has not been trained to do? In the same way, a lute player knows how to play and sing well, and he wears fine clothes. Yet he trembles when he walks onstage. He understands playing, singing, and dressing well, but he does not know what a crowd is. Nor does he know what its shouts or its ridicule are. He does not know what anxiety is, or whether it is his own doing or someone else’s. Nor does he know whether it can be stopped. So if he has been praised, he leaves the theater puffed up. But if he has been ridiculed, the swollen bladder has been punctured and deflates.

See ii. 10. 25.

'To answer to things' means to act appropriately for the circumstances and rise to the challenge. As Horace says (Sat. ii. 7. 85):

Perhaps this was a common puzzle. The man answers correctly: he cannot say.

That is what follows praise or blame. He seems to mean making proper use of praise or blame.

This is the case also with ourselves. What do we admire? Externals. About what things are we busy? Externals. And have we any doubt then why we fear or why we are anxious? What then happens when we think the things, which are coming on us, to be evils? It is not in our power not to be afraid, it is not in our power not to be anxious. Then we say, Lord God, how shall I not be anxious? Fool, have you not hands, did not God make them for you? Sit down now and pray that your nose may not run. Wipe yourself rather and do not blame him. Well then, has he given to you nothing in the present case? Has he not given to you endurance? has he not given to you magnanimity? has he not given to you manliness? When you have such hands, do you still look for one who shall wipe your nose? But we neither study these things nor care for them. Give me a man who cares how he shall do any thing, not for the obtaining of a thing, but who cares about his own energy. What man, when he is walking about, cares for his own energy? who, when he is deliberating, cares about his own deliberation, and not about obtaining that about which he deliberates? And if he succeeds, he is elated and says, How well we have deliberated; did I not tell you, brother, that it is impossible, when we have thought about any thing, that it should not turn out thus? But if the thing should turn out otherwise, the wretched man is humbled; he knows not even what to say about what has taken place. Who among us for the sake of this matter has consulted a seer? Who among us as to his actions has not slept in indifference? Who? Give (name) to me one that I may see the man whom I have long been looking for, who is truly noble and ingenuous, whether young or old; name him.

The same is true of us. What do we admire? External things. What keeps us busy? External things. So why do we wonder why we are afraid or anxious? What happens when we think that what is coming is evil? We cannot help being afraid or anxious. Then we say, Lord God, how can I stop being anxious? Fool, don't you have hands? Didn't God make them for you? Go ahead and pray that your nose won't run. Wipe it yourself instead, and don't blame him. Well then, has he given you nothing to deal with your anxiety? Hasn't he given you endurance? Hasn't he given you greatness of spirit? Hasn't he given you courage? When you have such hands, are you still looking for someone to wipe your nose? But we neither study these qualities nor care about them. Show me a person who cares how he does something, not to get what he wants, but for his own conduct. Who pays attention to his own conduct when he walks around? Who, when making a decision, cares about how he decides, rather than getting what he is deciding about? If he succeeds, he is delighted and says, How well we decided! Didn't I tell you, brother, that when we think something through, it can't turn out any other way? But if it turns out otherwise, the poor man is humbled. He doesn't even know what to say about what happened. Who among us has consulted a seer about this matter? Who among us has not been indifferent to his own actions, as if asleep? Who? Name one person. Let me see the person I have long been looking for, someone truly noble and sincere, whether young or old. Name him.

With the words 'Sit down', Epictetus points to the man's baseness and laziness. The man wants God to do what he can and should do himself. Schweig.

This is how Schweighaeuser explains the difficult passage. Perhaps he is right. This part of the chapter is unclear.

'It is observable, that this most practical of all the philosophers owns his endeavours met with little or no success among his scholars. The Apostles speak a very different language in their epistles to the first converts of Christianity: and the Acts of the Apostles, and all the monuments of the primitive ages bear testimony to the reformation of manners produced by the Gospel. This difference of success might indeed justly be expected from the difference of the two systems.' Mrs. Carter.

I have not quoted Mrs. Carter's note because I think it is true. We do not know what effect Epictetus's teaching had, unless this passage tells us. And it does so only if Mrs. Carter has drawn the right conclusion from it. Paul's language to the Corinthians is not very different from that of Epictetus. He speaks very unfavorably of some of his Corinthian converts.

We may agree that "a reformation of manners was produced by the Gospel" in many converts to Christianity. But there is no evidence that this change occurred in all of them. There is evidence that it did not. Corruption in the early Christian church and in later ages shows that the Gospel's reforms were neither universal nor permanent. Our knowledge of human nature would lead us to expect this result.

Why then are we still surprised, if we are well practised in thinking about matters (any given subject), but in our acts are low, without decency, worthless, cowardly, impatient of labour, altogether bad? For we do not care about these things nor do we study them. But if we had feared not death or banishment, but fear itself, we should have studied not to fall into those things which appear to us evils. Now in the school we are irritable and wordy; and if any little question arises about any of these things, we are able to examine them fully. But drag us to practice, and you will find us miserably shipwrecked. Let some disturbing appearance come on us, and you will know what we have been studying and in what we have been exercising ourselves. Consequently through want of discipline we are always adding something to the appearance and representing things to be greater than what they are. For instance as to myself, when I am on a voyage and look down on the deep sea, or look round on it and see no land, I am out of my mind and imagine that I must drink up all this water if I am wrecked, and it does not occur to me that three pints are enough. What then disturbs me? The sea? No, but my opinion. Again, when an earthquake shall happen, I imagine that the city is going to fall on me; but is not one little stone enough to knock my brains out?

Why are we still surprised when we are well practiced in thinking about any subject, yet act basely and indecently? Our actions are worthless and cowardly. We cannot bear hard work, and we are bad in every way. For we do not care about these things or study them. But if we feared fear itself rather than death or exile, we would have studied how to avoid what seems evil to us. At school, we are irritable and talk too much. If any small question arises about these matters, we can examine it thoroughly. But put us to the test, and you will find us miserably shipwrecked. Let something disturbing confront us, and you will see what we have been studying and practicing. Because we lack discipline, we are always adding to what we see and making things seem greater than they are. Take me, for example. When I am at sea, I look down into the deep water or look around and see no land. I lose my mind and imagine that, if I am shipwrecked, I will have to drink all that water. It never occurs to me that three pints are enough. So what disturbs me? The sea? No, my opinion. Again, when an earthquake happens, I imagine the city will fall on me. But isn't one little stone enough to knock my brains out?

See ii. 1. 13.

What then are the things which are heavy on us and disturb us? What else than opinions? What else than opinions lies heavy upon him who goes away and leaves his companions and friends and places and habits of life? Now little children, for instance, when they cry on the nurse leaving them for a short time, forget their sorrow if they receive a small cake. Do you choose then that we should compare you to little children?—No, by Zeus, for I do not wish to be pacified by a small cake, but by right opinions.—And what are these? Such as a man ought to study all day, and not to be affected by any thing that is not his own, neither by companion nor place nor gymnasia, and not even by his own body, but to remember the law and to have it before his eyes. And what is the divine law? To keep a man's own, not to claim that which belongs to others, but to use what is given, and when it is not given, not to desire it; and when a thing is taken away, to give it up readily and immediately, and to be thankful for the time that a man has had the use of it, if you would not cry for your nurse and mamma. For what matter does it make by what thing a man is subdued, and on what he depends? In what respect are you better than he who cries for a girl, if you grieve for a little gymnasium, and little porticoes and young men and such places of amusement? Another comes and laments that he shall no longer drink the water of Dirce. Is the Marcian water worse than that of Dirce? But I was used to the water of Dirce. And you in turn will be used to the other. Then if you become attached to this also, cry for this too, and try to make a verse like the verse of Euripides,

What weighs on us and disturbs us? What else but our opinions? What weighs on someone who leaves his companions, friends, places, and familiar way of life? What else but his opinions? When a nurse leaves little children for a short time, they cry. But they forget their sorrow if they are given a small cake. Would you have us compare you to little children? No, by Zeus, for I do not want to be comforted by a small cake, but by right opinions. And what are these right opinions? They are the ones a person should study all day. He should not be affected by anything that is not his own: not a companion, a place, or gymnasiums, not even his own body. He should remember the law and keep it before his eyes. And what is the divine law? Keep what is your own, and do not claim what belongs to others. Use what is given to you, and when it is not given, do not desire it. When something is taken away, give it up readily and at once. Be thankful for the time you had the use of it, if you do not want to cry for your nurse and mama. For what does it matter what overcomes a person or what he depends on? You grieve for a little gymnasium, little porticoes, young men, and such places of amusement. How are you any better than someone who cries for a girl? Another person comes along and laments that he will no longer drink the water of Dirce. Is the Marcian water worse than the water of Dirce? But I was used to the water of Dirce. In time, you will get used to the other water. Then, if you become attached to that water too, cry for it as well. And try to make a verse like the verse of Euripides,

The hot baths of Nero and the Marcian water.

Nero's hot baths and the Marcian water.

See how tragedy is made when common things happen to silly men.

See how ordinary events become tragedies when they happen to foolish men.

When then shall I see Athens again and the Acropolis? Wretch, are you not content with what you see daily? have you any thing better or greater to see than the sun, the moon, the stars, the whole earth, the sea? But if indeed you comprehend him who administers the Whole, and carry him about in yourself, do you still desire small stones, and a beautiful rock? When then you are going to leave the sun itself and the moon, what will you do? will you sit and weep like children? Well, what have you been doing in the school? what did you hear, what did you learn? why did you write yourself a philosopher, when you might have written the truth; as, "I made certain introductions, and I read Chrysippus, but I did not even approach the door of a philosopher." For how should I possess any thing of the kind which Socrates possessed, who died as he did, who lived as he did, or any thing such as Diogenes possessed? Do you think that any one of such men wept or grieved, because he was not going to see a certain man, or a certain woman, nor to be in Athens or in Corinth, but, if it should so happen, in Susa or in Ecbatana? For if a man can quit the banquet when he chooses, and no longer amuse himself, does he still stay and complain, and does he not stay, as at any amusement, only so long as he is pleased? Such a man, I suppose, would endure perpetual exile or to be condemned to death. Will you not be weaned now, like children, and [9] take more solid food, and not cry after mammas and nurses, which are the lamentations of old women?—But if I go away, I shall cause them sorrow.—You cause them sorrow? By no means; but that will cause them sorrow which also causes you sorrow, opinion. What have you to do then? Take away your own opinion, and if these women are wise, they will take away their own: if they do not, they will lament through their own fault.

When will I see Athens and the Acropolis again? You wretch, aren't you satisfied with what you see every day? Is there anything better or greater to see than the sun, the moon, the stars, the whole earth, and the sea? But if you truly understand him who governs the Whole and carry him within yourself, do you still long for small stones and a beautiful rock? And when you must leave the sun and moon themselves, what will you do? Will you sit and weep like a child? Well, what have you been doing at school? What did you hear? What did you learn? Why did you call yourself a philosopher when you could have written the truth? You could have written, "I made certain introductions, and I read Chrysippus, but I never even came near the door of a philosopher." For how could I possess anything like what Socrates possessed, who lived and died as he did? Or anything like what Diogenes possessed? Do you think such men ever wept or grieved because they would no longer see a particular man or woman? Or because they would no longer be in Athens or Corinth, but perhaps in Susa or Ecbatana? A man can leave a banquet whenever he chooses and stop enjoying himself. So does he stay and complain? Doesn't he stay, as at any entertainment, only as long as he enjoys it? Such a man, I suppose, would endure permanent exile or a death sentence. Won't you now be weaned, like children, and [9] take more solid food? Stop crying for your mothers and nurses. Those are the laments of old women. "But if I go away, I shall cause them sorrow." You cause them sorrow? Not at all. What causes them sorrow is the same thing that causes you sorrow: opinion. What must you do, then? Give up your own opinion. If these women are wise, they will give up theirs. If they don't, they will grieve through their own fault.

The 'small stones' are thought to be the marble decorations of Athens, and the rock to be the Acropolis.

In the original, the word is Εἰσαγωγαί. It was a name for short commentaries on the principles of any art. Today, we call such works Introductions, Compendiums, or Elements. Gellius, xvi. 8.

See Schweig.'s note.

My man, as the proverb says, make a desperate effort on behalf of tranquillity of mind, freedom and magnanimity. Lift up your head at last as released from slavery. Dare to look up to God and say, Deal with me for the future as thou wilt; I am of the same mind as thou art; I am thine: I refuse nothing that pleases thee: lead me where thou wilt: clothe me in any dress thou choosest: is it thy will that I should hold the office of a magistrate, that I should be in the condition of a private man, stay here or be an exile, be poor, be rich? I will make thy defence to men in behalf of all these conditions: I will shew the nature of each thing what it is.—You will not do so; but sit in an ox's belly and wait for your mamma till she shall feed you. Who would Hercules have been, if he had sat at home? He would have been Eurystheus and not Hercules. Well, and in his travels through the world how many intimates and how many friends had he? But nothing more dear to him than God. For this reason it was believed that he was the son of God, and he was. In obedience to God then he went about purging away injustice and lawlessness. But you are not Hercules and you are not able to purge away the wickedness of others; nor yet are you Theseus, able to purge away the evil things of Attica. Clear away your own. Clear away your own. From yourself, from your thoughts cast away instead of Procrustes and Sciron, sadness, fear, desire, envy, malevolence, avarice, effeminacy, intemperance. But it is not possible to eject these things otherwise than by looking to God only, by fixing your affections on him only, by being consecrated to his commands. But if you choose any thing else, you will with sighs and groans be compelled to follow what is stronger than yourself, always seeking tranquillity and never able to find it; for you seek tranquillity there where it is not, and you neglect to seek it where it is.

My friend, as the proverb says, make a desperate effort to gain peace of mind, freedom, and greatness of spirit. Lift your head at last, like someone freed from slavery. Dare to look up to God and say, “Deal with me as you wish from now on. I am of the same mind as you. I am yours: I refuse nothing that pleases you. Lead me wherever you wish. Dress me however you choose. Do you want me to be a magistrate or a private citizen, to stay here or live in exile, to be poor or rich? I will defend you before others in all these conditions: I will show them the true nature of each one.” But you will not do that. Instead, you sit in an ox's belly and wait for your mother to feed you. Who would Hercules have been if he had stayed at home? He would have been Eurystheus, not Hercules. And how many close companions and friends did he have as he traveled through the world? Yet nothing was dearer to him than God. That is why people believed he was the son of God, and he was. So, in obedience to God, he went about clearing away injustice and lawlessness. But you are not Hercules, and you cannot clear away the wickedness of others. Nor are you Theseus, who could clear away the evils of Attica. Clear away your own. Clear away your own. Instead of Procrustes and Sciron, drive sadness, fear, desire, envy, malice, greed, softness, and lack of self-control out of yourself and your thoughts. But you can drive these things out only by looking to God alone, fixing your affections on him alone, and devoting yourself to his commands. If you choose anything else, you will be forced, with sighs and groans, to follow whatever is stronger than you. You will always seek peace of mind and never find it. For you seek peace where it is not, and neglect to seek it where it is.

The manuscripts have ἴσος εἰμί, but Salmasius's correction, σός ειμι, is certain.

"In countless passages, St. Paul gives the noble testimony that Epictetus here requires of his imaginary character. In these passages, Paul glories in suffering and shows heroic contempt for life when it conflicts with his duty. He rejoices in chains and imprisonment and in the prospect of his approaching martyrdom. He also presents suffering as a proof of God's love. See Acts xx. 23, 24; Rom. v. 3, viii. 38-39; 2 Tim. iv. 6." Mrs. Carter.

The meaning is unclear. See Schweighaeuser's note.

Procrustes and Sciron were two robbers who plagued Attica and were killed by Theseus, as Plutarch tells in his life of Theseus.

Antoninus x. 28, "only to the rational animal is it given to follow voluntarily what happens; but simply to follow is a necessity imposed on all." Compare Seneca, Quaest. Nat. ii. 59.

Responsare cupidinibus, contemnere honores Fortis.

Strong enough to resist desires and scorn honors.