Book 4, Chapter 1
Freedom
He is free who lives as he wishes to live; who is neither subject to compulsion nor to hindrance, nor to force; whose movements to action (ὁρμαί) are not impeded, whose desires attain their purpose, and who does not fall into that which he would avoid (ἐκκλίσεις ἀπερίπτωτοι). Who then chooses to live in error? No man. Who chooses to live deceived, liable to mistake, unjust, unrestrained, discontented, mean? No man. Not one then of the bad lives as he wishes; nor is he then free. And who chooses to live in sorrow, fear, envy, pity, desiring and failing in his desires, attempting to avoid something and falling into it? Not one. Do we then find any of the bad free from sorrow, free from fear, who does not fall into that which he would avoid, and does not obtain that which he wishes? Not one; nor then do we find any bad man free.
A person is free if he lives as he wishes. He is not subject to compulsion, obstruction, or force. His impulses to act (ὁρμαί) are not blocked. He gets what he desires and does not encounter what he wants to avoid (ἐκκλίσεις ἀπερίπτωτοι). Who, then, chooses to live in error? No one. Who chooses to live deceived, prone to mistakes, unjust, uncontrolled, discontented, or mean? No one. So no bad person lives as he wishes, and no bad person is free. Who chooses to live in sorrow, fear, envy, or pity? Who chooses to desire things and fail to get them, or to encounter what he tries to avoid? No one. Do we, then, find any bad person who is free from sorrow and fear? Do we find one who avoids what he wants to avoid and gets what he wishes? Not one. So we do not find any bad person who is free.
Cicero, Paradox. v. 'Quid est enim libertas? Potestas vivendi ut velis. Quis igitur vivit ut vult, nisi qui recta sequitur,' etc.
προπίπτων. Compare ii. 1. 10: ἐξαπατηθῆναι οὖν ἢ προπεσεῖν.
'Whoever committeth sin, is the servant of sin,' John viii. 34. Mrs. Carter.
If then a man who has been twice consul should hear this, if you add, But you are a wise man; this is nothing to you: he will pardon you. But if you tell him the truth, and say, You differ not at all from those who have been thrice sold as to being yourself not a slave, what else ought you to expect than blows? For he says, What, I a slave, I whose father was free, whose mother was free, I whom no man can purchase: I am also of senatorial rank, and a friend of Caesar, and I have been a consul, and I own many slaves.—In the first place, most excellent senatorial man, perhaps your father also was a slave in the same kind of servitude, and your mother, and your grandfather and all your ancestors in an ascending series. But even if they were as free as it is possible, what is this to you? What if they were of a noble nature, and you of a mean nature; if they were fearless, and you a coward; if they had the power of self-restraint, and you are not able to exercise it.
If a man who has been consul twice hears this, add, “But you are a wise man. This does not apply to you.” He will forgive you. But what if you tell him the truth? What if you say, “You are no less a slave than those who have been sold three times”? What else should you expect but blows? For he says, “What, I a slave? My father and mother were free. No one can buy me. I am also a senator and a friend of Caesar. I have been consul, and I own many slaves.” First of all, my distinguished senator, perhaps your father was a slave in the same way. Perhaps your mother, your grandfather, and all your ancestors before them were too. But even if they were as free as anyone could possibly be, what does that have to do with you? What if they were noble in character, and you are mean in character? What if they were fearless, and you are a coward? What if they had self-control, and you cannot control yourself?
And what, you may say, has this to do with being a slave? Does it seem to you to be nothing to do a thing unwillingly, with compulsion, with groans, has this nothing to do with being a slave? It is something, you say: but who is able to compel me, except the lord of all, Caesar? Then even you yourself have admitted that you have one master. But that he is the common master of all, as you say, let not this console you at all: but know that you are a slave in a great family. So also the people of Nicopolis are used to exclaim, By the fortune of Caesar, we are free.
And what, you may ask, does this have to do with being a slave? Do you think it has nothing to do with being a slave to do something unwillingly, under compulsion, and with groans? It has something to do with it, you say. But who can compel me except Caesar, the lord of all? Then you yourself have admitted that you have one master. You say he is the common master of all. But do not let that console you. Know instead that you are a slave in a great household. The people of Nicopolis also often exclaim, By the fortune of Caesar, we are free.
A common form of oath. See ii. 20. 29. Upton compares the Roman expression 'Per Genium,' as in Horace Epp. i. 7. 94:
However, if you please, let us not speak of Caesar at present. But tell me this: did you never love any person, a young girl, or slave, or free? What then is this with respect to being a slave or free? Were you never commanded by the person beloved to do something which you did not wish to do? have you never flattered your little slave? have you never kissed her feet? And yet if any man compelled you to kiss Caesar's feet, you would think it an insult and excessive tyranny. What else then is slavery? Did you never go out by night to some place whither you did not wish to go, did you not expend what you did not wish to expend, did you not utter words with sighs and groans, did you not submit to abuse and to be excluded? But if you are ashamed to confess your own acts, see what Thrasonides says and does, who having seen so much military service as perhaps not even you have, first of all went out by night, when Geta (a slave) does not venture out, but if he were compelled by his master, would have cried out much and would have gone out lamenting his bitter slavery. Next, what does Thrasonides say? A worthless girl has enslaved me, me whom no enemy ever did. Unhappy man, who are the slave even of a girl, and a worthless girl. Why then do you still call yourself free? and why do you talk of your service in the army? Then he calls for a sword and is angry with him who out of kindness refuses it; and he sends presents to her who hates him, and intreats and weeps, and on the other hand having had a little success he is elated. But even then how? was he free enough neither to desire nor to fear?
But, if you please, let us not speak of Caesar for now. Tell me this: have you never loved anyone, a young girl, whether a slave or free? What difference does it make whether she was a slave or free? Has the person you loved never ordered you to do something you did not want to do? Have you never flattered your little slave? Have you never kissed her feet? Yet if anyone forced you to kiss Caesar’s feet, you would think it an insult and an act of extreme tyranny. What else, then, is slavery? Have you never gone out at night to a place you did not want to go? Have you never spent what you did not want to spend? Have you never spoken with sighs and groans? Have you never put up with abuse and being shut out? But if you are ashamed to admit what you have done, look at what Thrasonides says and does. He has perhaps seen more military service than even you have. First, he went out at night, when Geta (a slave) would not dare go out. If his master forced him to go, Geta would have cried out loudly and gone out lamenting his bitter slavery. Then what does Thrasonides say? A worthless girl has made me her slave, though no enemy ever did. Unhappy man, you are the slave of a girl, and a worthless girl at that. Why, then, do you still call yourself free? Why do you speak of your service in the army? Then he calls for a sword and grows angry with the man who kindly refuses to give it to him. He sends gifts to the woman who hates him, and begs and weeps. Yet when he has a little success, he is overjoyed. But even then, what was his state? Was he free enough neither to desire nor to fear?
A lover being shut out by his mistress was a common topic and a serious cause for complaint (Lucretius, iv. 1172):
Thrasonides was a character in Menander's play Μισούμενος or the Hated.
Now consider in the case of animals, how we employ the notion of liberty. Men keep tame lions shut up, and feed them, and some take them about; and who will say that this lion is free? Is it not the fact that the more he lives at his ease, so much the more he is in a slavish condition? and who if he had perception and reason would wish to be one of these lions? Well, these birds when they are caught and are kept shut up, how much do they suffer in their attempts to escape? and some of them die of hunger rather than submit to such a kind of life. And as many of them as live, hardly live and with suffering pine away; and if they ever find any opening, they make their escape. So much do they desire their natural liberty, and to be independent and free from hindrance. And what harm is there to you in this? What do you say? I am formed by nature to fly where I choose, to live in the open air, to sing when I choose: you deprive me of all this, and say, what harm is it to you? For this reason we shall say that those animals only are free, which cannot endure capture, but as soon as they are caught, escape from captivity by death. So Diogenes also somewhere says that there is only one way to freedom, and that is to die content: and he writes to the Persian king, You cannot enslave the Athenian state any more than you can enslave fishes. How is that? cannot I catch them? If you catch them, says Diogenes, they will immediately leave you, as fishes do; for if you catch a fish, it dies; and if these men that are caught shall die, of what use to you is the preparation for war? These are the words of a free man who had carefully examined the thing, and, as was natural, had discovered it. But if you look for it in a different place from where it is, what wonder if you never find it?
Now consider how we use the idea of freedom when we speak of animals. People keep tame lions in cages and feed them, and some take them around for display. But who would say that such a lion is free? In fact, the more comfortably he lives, the more he lives like a slave. And who, if he had perception and reason, would want to be one of these lions? Consider birds that are caught and kept in cages. How much they suffer trying to escape! Some die of hunger rather than submit to that kind of life. Those that survive barely live at all. They suffer and waste away, and if they find an opening, they escape. They long for their natural freedom, to be independent and free from restraint. “What harm does this do you?” you ask. What are you saying? “Nature made me to fly where I choose, to live in the open air, and to sing when I choose. You take all this away and ask, ‘What harm does this do you?’” For this reason, we shall say that only those animals are free that cannot bear capture. As soon as they are caught, they escape captivity by dying. Diogenes also says somewhere that there is only one way to freedom: to die content. He writes to the Persian king, “You cannot enslave the Athenian state any more than you can enslave fish.” “How is that? Can’t I catch them?” “If you catch them,” Diogenes says, “they will immediately leave you, just as fish do. If you catch a fish, it dies. And if these men die when they are caught, what use are your preparations for war?” These are the words of a free man. He had carefully examined freedom and, naturally, had discovered it. But if you look for freedom somewhere other than where it is, is it any wonder you never find it?
It must have been rather difficult to handle a tame lion. But we read of such things among the Romans. Seneca, Epp. 41.
Romans also commonly kept parrots and other birds in cages. Ovid (Amor. ii. 6) wrote a beautiful elegy on the death of a favorite parrot.
The slave wishes to be set free immediately. Why? Do you think that he wishes to pay money to the collectors of twentieths? No; but because he imagines that hitherto through not having obtained this, he is hindered and unfortunate. If I shall be set free, immediately it is all happiness, I care for no man, I speak to all as an equal and like to them, I go where I choose, I come from any place I choose, and go where I choose. Then he is set free; and forthwith having no place where he can eat, he looks for some man to flatter, some one with whom he shall sup: then he either works with his body and endures the most dreadful things; and if he can obtain a manger, he falls into a slavery much worse than his former slavery; or even if he is become rich, being a man without any knowledge of what is good, he loves some little girl, and in his unhappiness laments and desires to be a slave again. He says, what evil did I suffer in my state of slavery? Another clothed me, another supplied me with shoes, another fed me, another looked after me in sickness; and I did only a few services for him. But now a wretched man, what things I suffer, being a slave to many instead of to one. But however, he says, if I shall acquire rings, then I shall live most prosperously and happily. First, in order to acquire these rings, he submits to that which he is worthy of; then when he has acquired them, it is again all the same. Then he says, If I shall be engaged in military service, I am free from all evils. He obtains military service. He suffers as much as a flogged slave, and nevertheless he asks for a second service and a third. After this, when he has put the finishing stroke (the colophon) to his career, and is become a senator, then he becomes a slave by entering into the assembly, then he serves the finer and most splendid slavery not to be a fool, but to learn what Socrates taught, what is the nature of each thing that exists, and that a man should not rashly adapt preconceptions (προλήψεις) to the several things which are. For this is the cause to men of all their evils, the not being able to adapt the general preconceptions to the several things. But we have different opinions (about the cause of our evils). One man thinks that he is sick: not so however, but the fact is that he does not adapt his preconceptions right. Another thinks that he is poor; another that he has a severe father or mother; and another again that Caesar is not favourable to him. But all this is one and only one thing, the not knowing how to adapt the preconceptions. For who has not a preconception of that which is bad, that it is hurtful, that it ought to be avoided, that it ought in every way to be guarded against? Ore preconception is not repugnant to another, only where it comes to the matter of adaptation. What then is this evil, which is both hurtful, and a thing to be avoided? He answers not to be Caesar's friend.—He is gone far from the mark, he has missed the adaptation, he is embarrassed, he seeks the things which are not at all pertinent to the matter; for when he has succeeded in being Caesar's friend, never the less he has failed in finding what he sought. For what is that which every man seeks? To live secure, to be happy, to do every thing as he wishes, not to be hindered, nor compelled. When then he is become the friend of Caesar, is he free from hindrance? free from compulsion, is he tranquil, is he happy? Of whom shall we inquire? What more trustworthy witness have we than this very man who is become Caesar's friend? Come forward and tell us when did you sleep more quietly, now or before you became Caesar's friend? Immediately you hear the answer, Stop, I intreat you, and do not mock me: you know not what miseries I suffer, and sleep does not come to me; but one comes and says, Caesar is already awake, he is now going forth: then come troubles and cares—Well, when did you sup with more pleasure, now or before? Hear what he says about this also. He says that if he is not invited, he is pained: and if he is invited, he sups like a slave with his master, all the while being anxious that he does not say or do any thing foolish. And what do you suppose that he is afraid of; lest he should be lashed like a slave? How can he expect any thing so good? No, but as befits so great a man, Caesar's friend, he is afraid that he may lose his head. And when did you bathe more free from trouble, and take your gymnastic exercise more quietly? In fine, which kind of life did you prefer? your present or your former life? I can swear that no man is so stupid or so ignorant of truth as not to bewail his own misfortunes the nearer he is in friendship to Caesar.
The slave wants to be set free immediately. Why? Do you think he wants to pay the collectors of the twentieth tax? No. He imagines that, until now, his lack of freedom has held him back and made him unhappy. He thinks, “If I am set free, I will be happy at once. I will depend on no one. I will speak to everyone as an equal. I will go and come as I please.” Then he is set free. Immediately, he has nowhere to eat, so he looks for someone to flatter, someone who will give him supper. Then he works with his body and endures the most dreadful things. If he can find a place to eat, he falls into a slavery much worse than before. Or even if he becomes rich, he knows nothing about what is good. He falls in love with some little girl and, in his unhappiness, mourns and wishes he were a slave again. He says, “What harm did I suffer as a slave? Someone else clothed me, gave me shoes, fed me, and cared for me when I was sick. I did only a few services for him. But now, wretched man that I am, how much I suffer! I am a slave to many instead of one.” “But,” he says, “if I acquire rings, I will live in great prosperity and happiness.” First, to acquire the rings, he submits to what he deserves. Then, once he has them, everything is just the same. Next he says, “If I enter military service, I will be free from all evils.” He enters military service. He suffers as much as a flogged slave, yet he asks for a second term of service and then a third. After this, he puts the finishing stroke (the colophon) to his career and becomes a senator. Then, by entering the assembly, he becomes a slave. He serves in a finer and more splendid slavery. Instead, he should stop being a fool and learn what Socrates taught. He should learn the nature of each thing that exists and not apply preconceptions (προλήψεις) rashly to particular things. For the cause of all human evils is the failure to apply general preconceptions to particular things. But we have different opinions about the cause of our evils. One man thinks he is sick. That is not the cause. The fact is that he does not apply his preconceptions correctly. Another thinks he is poor. Another thinks he has a harsh father or mother. Another thinks Caesar does not favor him. But the cause in every case is one and the same: not knowing how to apply preconceptions. For who does not have a preconception of what is bad? Everyone thinks it is harmful, should be avoided, and should be guarded against in every way. One preconception does not conflict with another. The difficulty comes only when we apply them. What, then, is this evil that is both harmful and to be avoided? One man answers, “Not being Caesar’s friend.” He has gone far from the mark. He has applied his preconception wrongly, and he is at a loss. He seeks things that have nothing to do with the matter. For even when he succeeds in becoming Caesar’s friend, he still has not found what he sought. What does every man seek? To live securely and happily, to do everything as he wishes, and to be neither hindered nor compelled. So, when he becomes Caesar’s friend, is he free from hindrance and compulsion? Is he at peace? Is he happy? Whom should we ask? What more trustworthy witness could we have than the man who has become Caesar’s friend? Come forward and tell us. When did you sleep more peacefully, now or before you became Caesar’s friend? You hear the answer at once: “Stop, I beg you. Do not mock me. You do not know what miseries I suffer. I cannot sleep. Someone comes and says, ‘Caesar is already awake. He is going out now.’ Then come troubles and cares.” Well, when did you enjoy supper more, now or before? Listen to what he says about that too. If he is not invited, he is hurt. If he is invited, he eats like a slave with his master. All the while, he worries about saying or doing something foolish. And what do you suppose he fears? That he will be whipped like a slave? How could he expect anything so good? No. As befits so great a man, Caesar’s friend, he fears that he may lose his head. And when did you bathe with less trouble and exercise more peacefully? In short, which life did you prefer, your present life or your former one? I can swear that no man is so stupid or so ignorant of the truth that he does not bewail his misfortunes as he grows closer to Caesar.
See ii. 1. 26. The εἰκοστώναι were the Publicani, men who collected this and other taxes under contract. A tax of one twentieth of a slave’s value was established early on for manumissions (Livy vii. 16). This passage suggests that the manumitted slave paid the tax from his savings (peculium). See ii. 1. note 7.
The reader can guess the meaning.
The Equites wore gold rings. So to desire a gold ring is the same as wanting to join the Equestrian class.
The colophon. See ii. 14. note 5. Some words were probably accidentally omitted from the MSS. after 'most splendid slavery'.
Compare i. 2. 6.
Compare i. 22.
Since then neither those who are called kings live as they choose, nor the friends of kings, who finally are those who aro free? Seek, and you will find; for you have aids from nature for the discovery of truth. But if you are not able yourself by going along these ways only to discover that which follows, listen to those who have made the inquiry. What do they say? Does freedom seem to you a good thing? The greatest good. Is it possible then that he who obtains the greatest good can be unhappy or fare badly? No. Whomsoever then you shall see unhappy, unfortunate, lamenting, confidently declare that they are not free. I do declare it. We have now then got away from buying and selling and from such arrangements about matters of property: for if you have rightly assented to these matters, if the great king (the Persian king) is unhappy, he cannot be free, nor can a little king, nor a man of consular rank, nor one who has been twice consul.—Be it so.
Since neither those called kings nor their friends live as they choose, who, then, is free? Seek, and you will find. Nature has given you the means to discover the truth. But if you cannot reach the answer on your own by following these paths, listen to those who have investigated. What do they say? Do you think freedom is a good thing? The greatest good. Can someone who has gained the greatest good be unhappy or fare badly? No. Then whenever you see people who are unhappy, unfortunate, or lamenting, confidently declare that they are not free. I do declare it. We have now moved beyond buying, selling, and such arrangements concerning property. For if you have rightly agreed to these points, then the great king, the king of Persia, cannot be free if he is unhappy. Nor can a lesser king, a man of consular rank, or a man who has been consul twice. Let it be so.
Further then answer me this question also, does freedom seem to you to be something great and noble and valuable?—How should it not seem so? Is it possible then when a man obtains anything so great and valuable and noble to be mean?—It is not possible—When then you see any man subject to another or flattering him contrary to his own opinion, confidently affirm that this man also is not free; and not only if he do this for a bit of supper, but also if he does it for a government (province) or a consulship and call these men little slaves who for the sake of little matters do these things, and those who do so for the sake of great things call great slaves, as they deserve to be.—This is admitted also—Do you think that freedom is a thing independent and self governing?—Certainly—Whomsoever then it is in the power of another to hinder and compel, declare that he is not free. And do not look, I intreat you, after his grandfathers and great grandfathers, or inquire about his being bought or sold; but if you hear him saying from his heart and with feeling, 'Master,' even if the twelve fasces precede him (as consul), call him a slave. And if you hear him say, 'Wretch that I am, how much I suffer,' call him a slave. If finally you see him lamenting, complaining, unhappy, call him a slave though he wears a praetexta. If then he is doing nothing of this kind, do not yet say that he is free, but learn his opinions, whether they are subject to compulsion, or may produce hindrance, or to bad fortune; and if you find him such, call him a slave who has a holiday in the Saturnalia: say that his master is from home he will return soon, and you will know what he suffers. Who will return? Whoever has in himself the power over anything which is desired by the man, either to give it to him or to take it away? Thus then have we many masters? We have: for we have circumstances as masters prior to our present masters; and these circumstances are many. Therefore it must of necessity be that those who have the power over any of these circumstances must be our masters. For no man fears Caesar himself, but he fears death, banishment, deprivation of his property, prison, and disgrace. Nor does any man love Caesar, unless Caesar is a person of great merit, but he loves wealth, the office of tribune, praetor or consul. When we love, and hate and fear these things, it must be that those who have the power over them must be our masters. Therefore we adore them even as gods; for we think that what possesses the power of conferring the greatest advantage on us is divine. Then we wrongly assume (ὑποτάσσομεν) that a certain person has the power of conferring the greatest advantages; therefore he is something divine. For if we wrongly assume that a certain person has the power of conferring the greatest advantages, it is a necessary consequence that the conclusion from these premises must be false.
Now answer me this question too. Does freedom seem to you something great, noble, and valuable? “How could it not?” Can a man who gains something so great, valuable, and noble be a petty person? “That is impossible.” So when you see a man subject to another, or flattering him against his own beliefs, confidently say that he is not free. This is true not only when he does it for a bit of supper, but also when he does it for the governorship of a province or a consulship. Call those who do such things for small rewards little slaves. Call those who do them for great rewards great slaves, as they deserve. “I agree with that too.” Do you think freedom is independent and self-governing? “Certainly.” Then declare that anyone whom another person can hinder or compel is not free. Please do not look into his grandfathers and great-grandfathers or ask whether he was bought or sold. If you hear him say “Master” sincerely and with feeling, call him a slave, even if the twelve fasces are carried before him as consul. If you hear him say, “Wretch that I am, how much I suffer,” call him a slave. If you see him lamenting, complaining, and unhappy, call him a slave, even if he wears a praetexta. But if he does none of these things, do not yet say that he is free. First learn his opinions. Can they be subject to compulsion, or lead to hindrance or bad fortune? If you find that they can, call him a slave enjoying a holiday during the Saturnalia. Say that his master is away from home. He will soon return, and then you will know what the slave suffers. Who will return? Anyone who has the power to give the man something he desires or take it away. Do we have many masters, then? We do. For the circumstances over which our present masters have power are themselves our masters, and those circumstances are many. So those who have power over any of these circumstances must be our masters. No man fears Caesar himself. He fears death, banishment, loss of property, prison, and disgrace. Nor does any man love Caesar, unless Caesar is a person of great merit. Rather, he loves wealth and the office of tribune, praetor, or consul. When we love, hate, and fear these things, those who have power over them must be our masters. That is why we worship them as gods. We think that whatever has the power to confer the greatest benefit on us is divine. Then we wrongly assume (ὑποτάσσομεν) that a certain person has the power to confer the greatest benefits. We therefore conclude that he is divine. For if we wrongly assume that a certain person has the power to confer the greatest benefits, the conclusion drawn from these premises must be false.
Saturnalia. See i. 25, note 3. During this festival, slaves were free to enjoy themselves and speak freely with their masters. Hence Horace says Sat. ii. 74:
"This is a striking example of applying preconceptions at random to particular things. On this, see i. 22, 9, ii. 11, 3, ii. 17, 7." Upton.
What then is that which makes a man free from hindrance and makes him his own master? For wealth does not do it, nor consulship, nor provincial government, nor royal power; but something else must be discovered. What then is that which when we write makes us free from hindrance and unimpeded? The knowledge of the art of writing. What then is it in playing the lute? The science of playing the lute. Therefore in life also it is the science of life. You have then heard in a general way: but examine the thing also in the several parts. Is it possible that he who desires any of the things which depend on others can be free from hindrance? No—Is it possible for him to be unimpeded? No—Therefore he cannot be free. Consider then: whether we have nothing which is in our own power only, or whether we have all things, or whether some things are in our own power, and others in the power of others.—What do you mean?—When you wish the body to be entire (sound), is it in your power or not?—It is not in my power—When you wish it to be healthy?—Neither is this in my power.—When you wish it to be handsome?—Nor is this—Life or death?—Neither is this in my power.—Your body then is another's, subject to every man who is stronger than yourself—It is—But your estate, is it in your power to have it when you please, and as long as you please, and such as you please?—No—And your slaves?—No—And your clothes?—No—And your house?—No—And your horses?—Not one of these things—And if you wish by all means your children to live, or your wife, or your brother, or your friends, is it in your power?—This also is not in my power.
What makes a man free from obstacles and master of himself? Wealth does not do it, nor does being a consul, a provincial governor, or a king. We must look for something else. What allows us to write without obstacles or delays? Knowing how to write. What allows us to play the lute without obstacles or delays? Knowing how to play it. So in life, too, it is knowing how to live. You have heard the general idea. Now consider its parts. Can someone who desires things that depend on others be free from obstacles? No. Can he be free from delays? No. So he cannot be free. Consider this: Is nothing entirely within our power, or is everything within our power? Or are some things within our power and others within the power of others? What do you mean? If you want your body to be whole and sound, is that within your power? No. If you want it to be healthy? That is not within my power either. If you want it to be handsome? Not that either. And life or death? Neither is within my power. So your body belongs to someone else. It is subject to anyone stronger than you. It is. But what about your property? Is it within your power to have it whenever you please, for as long as you please, and just as you please? No. And your slaves? No. And your clothes? No. And your house? No. And your horses? Not one of these things. And if you are determined that your children, your wife, your brother, or your friends should live, is that within your power? That is not within my power either.
Schweighaeuser notes that death is in our power, as the Stoics taught. Epictetus often tells us that the door is open. Schweighaeuser suggests that the correct reading may be καὶ οὐκ ἀποθανεῖν. I think the text is correct. Epictetus asks whether 'Life or death' is in our power. He means no more than if he had asked about life alone.
Whether then have you nothing which is in your own power, which depends on yourself only and cannot be taken from you, or have you any thing of the kind?—I know not—Look at the thing then thus, and examine it. Is any man able to make you assent to that which is false—No man—In the matter of assent then you are free [19]from hindrance and obstruction.—Granted—Well; and can a man force you to desire to move towards that to which you do not choose?—He can, for when he threatens me with death or bonds, he compels me to desire to move towards it. If then, you despise death and bonds, do you still pay any regard to him?—No—Is then the despising of death an act of your own or is it not yours?—It is my act—It is your own act then also to desire to move towards a thing or is it not so?—It is my own act—But to desire to move away from a thing, whose act is that? This also is your act—What then if I have attempted to walk, sup pose another should hinder me—What part of you does he hinder? does he hinder the faculty of assent?—No: but my poor body—Yes, as he would do with a stone—Granted; but I no longer walk—And who told you that walking is your own act free from hindrance? for I said that this only was free from hindrance, to desire to move: but where there is need of body and its co-operation, you have heard long ago that nothing is your own.—Granted this also—And who can compel you to desire what you do not wish?—No man—And to propose or intend, or in short to make use of the appearances which present themselves, can any man compel you?—He cannot do this: but he will hinder me when I desire from obtaining what I desire.—If you desire any thing which is your own, and one of the things which cannot be hindered, how will he hinder you?—He cannot in any way—Who then tells you that he who desires the things that belong to another is free from hindrance?
So, is there nothing in your power, nothing that depends only on you and cannot be taken from you? Or is there something of that kind? I do not know. Then look at it this way and examine it. Can anyone make you accept something false? No one can. So, when it comes to accepting something, you are free [19]from hindrance and obstruction. Granted. Well, can anyone force you to want to move toward something you do not choose? He can. When he threatens me with death or imprisonment, he forces me to want to move toward it. But if you have no fear of death or imprisonment, do you still pay him any attention? No. Is it your own doing to have no fear of death, or is it not? It is my own doing. Then is it also your own doing to want to move toward something, or is it not? It is my own doing. But whose doing is it to want to move away from something? That too is your own doing. What if I try to walk and someone stops me? What part of you does he stop? Does he stop your ability to accept something as true? No, but he stops my poor body. Yes, just as he would stop a stone. Granted, but I can no longer walk. And who told you that walking is your own action, free from hindrance? I said only that wanting to move was free from hindrance. But where the body and its cooperation are needed, you heard long ago that nothing is your own. I grant that too. And who can force you to desire what you do not want? No one. And can anyone force you to plan or intend something, or, in short, to make use of the impressions that come to you? He cannot do that. But when I desire something, he will prevent me from getting it. If you desire something that is your own and cannot be hindered, how will he prevent you from getting it? He cannot prevent me in any way. Then who tells you that someone who desires things belonging to another is free from hindrance?
Must I then not desire health? By no means, nor any thing else that belongs to another: for what is not in your power to acquire or to keep when you please, this belongs to another. Keep then far from it not only your hands, but more than that, even your desires. If you do not, you have surrendered yourself as a slave; you have subjected your neck, if you admire any thing not your own, to every thing that is dependent on the power of others and perishable, to which you have conceived a liking.—Is not my hand my own?—It is a part of your own body; but it is by nature earth, subject to hindrance, compulsion, and the slave of every thing which is stronger. And why do I say your hand? You ought to possess your whole body as a poor ass loaded, as long as it is possible, as long as you are allowed. But if there be a press, and a soldier should lay hold of it, let it go, do not resist, nor murmur; if you do, you will receive blows, and never the less you will also lose the ass. But when you ought to feel thus with respect to the body, consider what remains to be done about all the rest, which is provided for the sake of the body. When the body is an ass, all the other things are bits belonging to the ass, pack-saddles, shoes, barley, fodder. Let these also go: get rid of them quicker and more readily than of the ass.
“Should I not desire health, then?” Not at all, nor anything else that belongs to another. Whatever you cannot acquire or keep whenever you wish belongs to another. So keep not only your hands away from it, but your desires too. Otherwise, you have surrendered yourself as a slave. If you prize anything that is not your own, you have submitted to it. You have submitted to whatever you like that is perishable and depends on the power of others. “Is my hand not my own?” It is part of your body, but by nature it is earth. It can be hindered and forced, and it is a slave to everything stronger than itself. But why speak only of your hand? You should treat your whole body like a poor donkey carrying a load. Keep it as long as you can, as long as you are allowed. But suppose there is a requisition, and a soldier seizes the donkey. Let it go. Do not resist or complain. If you do, you will be beaten, and you will still lose the donkey. Since this is how you should feel about your body, consider everything else provided for its sake. If the body is a donkey, everything else is the donkey’s gear: its bit, pack saddles, shoes, barley, and fodder. Let these go too. Give them up more quickly and readily than the donkey.
The original word for 'admire' is θαυμάσῃς. Epictetus often uses this word, and Horace uses 'admirari' in this Stoic sense. See i. 29. 2, note.
See Schweig.'s note on μέρος.
Here he speaks of donkeys being fitted with shoes. In Epictetus, the Latin translation of the word (ὑποδημάτια) is 'ferreas calces.' I suppose they could use only iron.
When you have made this preparation, and have practised this discipline, to distinguish that which belongs to another from that which is your own, the things which are subject to hindrance from those which are not, to consider the things free from hindrance to concern yourself, and those which are not free not to concern yourself, to keep your desire steadily fixed to the things which do concern yourself, and turned from the things which do not concern yourself; do you still fear any man? No one. For about what will you be afraid? about the things which are your own, in which consists the nature of good and evil? and who has power over these things? who can take them away? who can impede them? No man can, no more than he can impede God. But will you be afraid about your body and your possessions, about things which are not yours, about things which in no way concern you? and what else have you been studying from the beginning than to distinguish between your own and not your own, the things which are in your power and not in your power, the things subject to hindrance and not subject? and why have you come to the philosophers? was it that you may never the less be unfortunate and unhappy? You will then in this way, as I have supposed you to have done, be without fear and disturbance. And what is grief to you? for fear comes from what you expect, but grief from that which is present. But what further will you desire? For of the things which are within the power of the will, as being good and present, you have a proper and regulated desire: but of the things which are not in the power of the will you do not desire any one, and so you do not allow any place to that which is irrational, and impatient, and above measure hasty.
You have prepared yourself and practiced this discipline. You have learned to distinguish what belongs to others from what is your own, and what can be hindered from what cannot. You have learned to regard what cannot be hindered as your concern, and what can be hindered as no concern of yours. You have learned to keep your desire fixed on what concerns you and away from what does not. Do you still fear anyone? No one. For what would you fear? Would you fear for what is your own, where the nature of good and evil lies? Who has power over these things? Who can take them away? Who can hinder them? No one can, any more than anyone can hinder God. But will you fear for your body and your possessions? These things are not yours and do not concern you in any way. What have you been studying from the beginning? You have been learning to distinguish what is yours from what is not, and what is in your power from what is not. You have been learning to distinguish what can be hindered from what cannot. And why have you come to the philosophers? Was it so that you might still be unfortunate and unhappy? If you have done as I have supposed, you will be free from fear and disturbance. And what is grief to you? Fear comes from what you expect, but grief comes from what is present. What more will you desire? You have a proper and disciplined desire for the good things that are present and within the power of your will. But you desire none of the things outside the power of your will. So you leave no room for what is irrational, impatient, and excessively hasty.
See Schweig.'s note.
See Schweig.'s note.
When then you are thus affected towards things, what man can any longer be formidable to you? For what has a man which is formidable to another, either when you see him or speak to him or finally are conversant with him? Not more than one horse has with respect to another, or one dog to another, or one bee to another bee. Things indeed are formidable to every man; and when any man is able to confer these things on another or to take them away, then he too becomes formidable. How then is an acropolis (a stronghold or fortress, the seat of tyranny) demolished? Not by the sword, not by fire, but by opinion. For if we abolish the acropolis which is in the city, can we abolish also that of fever, and that of beautiful women? Can we in a word abolish the acropolis which is in us and cast out the tyrants within us, whom we have daily over us, sometimes the same tyrants, at other times different tyrants? But with this we must begin, and with this we must demolish the acropolis and eject the tyrants, by giving up the body, the parts of it, the faculties of it, the possessions, the reputation, magisterial offices, honours, children, brothers, friends, by considering all these things as belonging to others. And if tyrants have been ejected from us, why do I still shut in the acropolis by a wall of circumvallation, at least on my account; for if it still stands, what does it do to me? why do I still eject (the tyrant's) guards? For where do I perceive them? against others they have their fasces, and their spears and their swords. But I have never been hindered in my will, nor compelled when I did not will. And how is this possible? I have placed my movements towards action (ὁρμήν) in obedience to God. Is it his will that I shall have fever? It is my will also. Is it his will that I should move towards any thing? It is my will also. Is it his will that I should obtain any thing? It is my wish also. Does he not will? I do not wish. Is it his will that I die, is it his will that I be put to the rack? It is my will then to die: it is my will then to be put to the rack. Who then is still able to hinder me contrary to my own judgment, or to compel me? No more than he can hinder or compel Zeus.
When you have this attitude toward things, what person can still frighten you? What makes another person frightening when you see him, speak to him, or spend time with him? No more than makes one horse frightening to another, one dog to another, or one bee to another. It is things that frighten everyone. When someone can give these things to another person or take them away, he too becomes frightening. How, then, is an acropolis (a fortress that is the seat of tyranny) destroyed? Not by swords or fire, but by changing our opinions. If we destroy the acropolis in the city, can we also destroy those of fever and beautiful women? In short, can we destroy the acropolis within us and drive out the tyrants inside us? These tyrants rule us every day, sometimes the same ones, sometimes different ones. But this is where we must begin. This is how we must destroy the acropolis and drive out the tyrants. We must let go of our bodies, their parts and abilities, our possessions, our reputations, public offices and honors. We must also let go of our children, brothers, and friends. We must regard all these things as belonging to others. And if the tyrants have been driven out of us, why should I still surround the acropolis with a siege wall, at least for my own sake? If it still stands, what harm does it do me? Why should I still drive out the tyrant's guards? For where do I feel their presence? They have their fasces, spears, and swords to use against others. But I have never been stopped from doing what I willed, or forced to do what I did not will. How is this possible? I have made my impulses to act (ὁρμήν) obedient to God. Does he will that I have a fever? Then I will it too. Does he will that I move toward something? Then I will it too. Does he will that I obtain something? Then I wish it too. Does he not will it? Then I do not wish it. Does he will that I die, or that I be put on the rack? Then I will to die. I will to be put on the rack. Who, then, can still stop me against my own judgment, or force me to act? No one can do so any more than he can stop or force Zeus.
Schweig. suggests καταβεβλήκαμεν instead of ἀποβεβλήκαμεν, although all his manuscripts have the word in the text. I do not think his proposed change is an improvement.
The word is ἀποτειχίζω, and it means what I have translated it to mean. The purpose of circumvallation was to capture a fortress and sometimes destroy it as well. Schweig. translates the word as 'destruam.' That is perhaps consistent with the meaning of the text, but it is not the exact meaning of the word.
This passage and those that follow strongly affirm our duty to conform and submit our will to God’s will. They clearly show that Epictetus believed a person should submit in all things to God’s will, or to what they believe is God’s will. No Christian martyr ever declared a more solemn obedience to God’s will. The Christian martyr, of course, has given perfect proof of sincerity by enduring torture and death. The heathen philosopher was not put to the same test, so we cannot say whether he could have endured it.
In this passage, note the distinction between θέλω and βούλομαι. Neither the Latin translators nor Mrs. Carter observed it. See Schweig.'s note on s. 90.
Thus the more cautious of travellers also act. A traveller has heard that the road is infested by robbers; he does not venture to enter on it alone, but he waits for the companionship on the road either of an ambassador, or of a quaestor, or of a proconsul, and when he has attached himself to such persons he goes along the road safely. So in the world the wise man acts. There are many companies of robbers, tyrants, storms, difficulties, losses of that which is dearest. Where is there any place of refuge? how shall he pass along without being attacked by robbers? what company shall be wait for that he may pass along in safety? to whom shall he attach himself? To what person generally? to the rich man, to the man of consular rank? and what is the use of that to me? Such a man is stripped himself, groans and laments. But what if the fellow companion himself turns against me and becomes my robber, what shall I do? I will be a friend of Caesar: when I am Caesar's companion no man will wrong me. In the first place, that I may become illustrious, what things must I endure and suffer? how often and by how many must I be robbed? Then, if I become Caesar's friend, he also is mortal. And if Caesar from any circumstance becomes my enemy, where is it best for me to retire? Into a desert? Well, does fever not come there? What shall be done then? Is it not possible to find a safe fellow traveller, a faithful one, strong, secure against all surprises? Thus he considers and perceives that if he attaches himself to God, he will make his journey in safety.
Cautious travelers act in the same way. A traveler hears that robbers infest a road, so he does not risk traveling it alone. Instead, he waits to travel with an ambassador, a quaestor, or a proconsul. He joins such people and travels the road safely. The wise man acts in the same way in the world. There are many bands of robbers, tyrants, storms, hardships, and losses of what is dearest to us. Where can he find shelter? How can he travel without being attacked by robbers? Whom should he wait to travel with so that he may be safe? Whom should he join? What sort of person should he choose? A rich man, or a man of consular rank? What good would that do me? Such a man is robbed himself, and he groans and complains. But what if my companion himself turns against me and robs me? What shall I do? I will be a friend of Caesar. When I travel with Caesar, no one will harm me. But first, what must I endure and suffer to become important enough? How often must I be robbed, and by how many people? Then, if I become Caesar's friend, he too is mortal. And if Caesar becomes my enemy for any reason, where is it best for me to go? Into a desert? Well, does fever not strike there too? What, then, should be done? Is it not possible to find a safe traveling companion, one who is faithful, strong, and secure against all surprises? He thinks about this and realizes that if he stays close to God, he will make his journey safely.
ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ: he means 'on earth.'
How do you understand 'attaching yourself to God?' In this sense, that whatever God wills, a man also shall will; and what God does not will, a man also shall not will. How then shall this be done? In what other way than by examining the movements (ὁρμάς, the acts) of God and his administration? What has he given to me as my own and in my own power? what has he reserved to himself? He has given to me the things which are in the power of the will (τὰ προαιρετικά): he has put them in my power free from impediment and hindrance. How was he able to make the earthy body free from hindrance? [He could not], and accordingly he has subjected to the revolution of the whole (τῇ τῶν ὅλων περιόδω) possessions, household things, house, children, wife. Why then do I fight against God? why do I will what does not depend on the will? why do I will to have absolutely what is not granted to me? But how ought I to will to have things? In the way in which they are given and as long as they are given. But he who has given takes away. Why then do I resist? I do not say that I shall be a fool if I use force to one who is stronger, but I shall first be unjust. For whence had I things when I came into the world?—My father gave them to me—And who gave them to him? and who made the sun? and who made the fruits of the earth? and who the seasons? and who made the connection of men with one another and their fellowship?
What does it mean to 'attach yourself to God?' It means that a person should want whatever God wants and reject whatever God rejects. How can we do this? The only way is to examine God’s actions (ὁρμάς, the acts) and how he governs the world. What has he given me as my own and put under my control? What has he kept for himself? He has given me the things governed by my will (τὰ προαιρετικά). He has put them under my control, free from obstacles and hindrances. How could he have made the earthly body free from hindrance? [He could not]. So he has made possessions, household goods, houses, children, and wives subject to the cycle of the whole (τῇ τῶν ὅλων περιόδω). Why, then, do I fight against God? Why do I want what does not depend on my will? Why do I want to possess unconditionally what is not granted to me? How should I want to possess things? On the terms on which they are given and for as long as they are given. But he who has given them takes them away. Why, then, do I resist? I do not just mean that I would be foolish to use force against someone stronger. I would first be unjust. For where did I get these things when I came into the world? “My father gave them to me.” And who gave them to him? Who made the sun, the fruits of the earth, and the seasons? Who brought people together and made their fellowship possible?
Schweig. is surprised that Epictetus applies this word (ὁρμάς) to God. He says that Wolf translated it as 'Dei appetitionem,' and Upton as 'impetum.' He says he translated it as 'consilium.' It is common for people to use the same words when speaking of God and of man.
See ii. 1. 18. Schweig. expected Epictetus to have said 'body and possessions etc.' I assume Epictetus did say 'body and possessions etc.' His pupil or a manuscript copyist omitted the word 'body.'
The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away. Job i. 21.' Mrs. Carter.
Then after receiving everything from another and even yourself, are you angry and do you blame the giver if he takes any thing from you? Who are you, and for what purpose did you come into the world? Did not he (God) introduce you here, did he not show you the light, did he not give you fellow workers, and perceptions and reason? and as whom did he introduce you here? did he not introduce you as subject to death, and as one to live on the earth with a little flesh, and to observe his administration, and to join with him in the spectacle and the festival for a short time? Will you not then, as long as you have been permitted, after seeing the spectacle and the solemnity, when he leads you out, go with adoration of him and thanks for what you have heard and seen?—No; but I would still enjoy the feast.—The initiated too would wish to be longer in the initiation: and perhaps also those at Olympia to see other athletes; but the solemnity is ended: go away like a grateful and modest man; make room for others: others also must be born, as you were, and being born they must have a place, and houses and necessary things. And if the first do not retire, what remains? Why are you insatiable? Why are you not content? why do you contract the world? Yes, but I would have my little children with me and my wife—What, are they yours? do they not belong to the giver, and to him who made you? then will you not give up what belongs to others? will you not give way to him who is superior?—Why then did he introduce me into the world on these conditions?—And if the conditions do not suit you, depart. He has no need of a spectator who is not satisfied. He wants those who join in the festival, those who take part in the chorus, that they may rather applaud, admire, and celebrate with hymns the solemnity. But those who can bear no trouble, and the cowardly he will not unwillingly see absent from the great assembly (πανήγυρις); for they did not when they were present behave as they ought to do at a festival nor fill up their place properly, but they lamented, found fault with the deity, fortune, their companions; not seeing both what they had, and their own powers, which they received for contrary purposes, the powers of magnanimity, of a generous mind, manly spirit, and what we are now inquiring about, freedom.—For what purpose then have I received these things?—To use them—How long?—So long as he who has lent them chooses.—What if they are necessary to me?—Do not attach yourself to them and they will not be necessary: do not say to yourself that they are necessary, and then they are not necessary.
You have received everything from another, even yourself. So are you angry and do you blame the giver if he takes something from you? Who are you, and why did you come into the world? Was it not God who brought you here? Did he not show you the light and give you fellow workers, the power to perceive, and reason? And what kind of person did he bring here? Did he not make you subject to death, with a little flesh to sustain you on earth? Did he not bring you here to observe how he governs, and to join him briefly at the spectacle and festival? For as long as you were allowed, you saw the spectacle and the celebration. So when he leads you out, will you not leave with reverence and thanks for what you have heard and seen? No, you say, I would still enjoy the feast. Those being initiated would also wish their initiation to last longer. Perhaps those at Olympia would also wish to see other athletes. But the celebration is over. Leave like a grateful and modest person. Make room for others. Others must be born, just as you were. And once they are born, they must have space, homes, and the things they need. If those who came first do not leave, what will be left? Why can you never have enough? Why are you not content? Why do you make the world too small for others? Yes, but I want my little children and my wife with me. What, are they yours? Do they not belong to the giver, the one who made you? Will you not give up what belongs to another? Will you not yield to one greater than you? Why, then, did he bring me into the world on these terms? And if the terms do not suit you, leave. He has no need of a spectator who is not satisfied. He wants people to join the festival and take part in the chorus, so that they will applaud, admire, and celebrate the occasion with hymns. But he will not be sorry to see those who cannot bear trouble, and the cowardly, absent from the great assembly (πανήγυρις). For when they were there, they did not behave as people should at a festival or play their proper part. Instead, they complained and found fault with the deity, fortune, and their companions. They failed to see what they had, including their own powers, which they had received for the opposite purpose. These powers are magnanimity, a generous mind, a courageous spirit, and the thing we are now considering, freedom. For what purpose, then, have I received these things? To use them. For how long? As long as the one who lent them chooses. What if I need them? Do not become attached to them, and you will not need them. Do not tell yourself that you need them, and then you will not need them.
The initiated (μύσται) were people admitted to a major religious body through solemn ceremonies. Dion Prus. Orat. xii. describes these ceremonies, as quoted by Upton.
This study you ought to practise from morning to evening, beginning with the smallest things and those most liable to damage, with an earthen pot, with a cup. Then proceed in this way to a tunic, to a little dog, to a horse, to a small estate in land: then to yourself, to your body, to the parts of your body, to your children, to your wife, to your brothers. Look all round and throw these things from you (which are not yours). Purge your opinions, so that nothing cleave to you of the things which are not your own, that nothing grow to you, that nothing give you pain when it is torn from you; and say, while you
You should practice this from morning to evening. Start with the smallest things, the ones most easily damaged, such as a clay pot or a cup. Then move on to a tunic, a small dog, a horse, and a small piece of land. Next, turn to yourself, your body, the parts of your body, your children, your wife, and your brothers. Look all around you and cast aside these things that are not yours. Cleanse your opinions so that you cling to nothing that is not your own. Let nothing become attached to you, so that nothing causes you pain when it is torn away. And say, while you
See Schweig.'s note on this passage.
[35] are daily exercising yourself as you do there (in the school), not that you are philosophizing, for this is an arrogant (offensive) expression, but that you are presenting an asserter of freedom: for this is really freedom. To this freedom Diogenes was called by Antisthenes, and he said that he could no longer be enslaved by any man. For this reason when he was taken prisoner, how did he behave to the pirates? Did he call any of them master? and I do not speak of the name, for I am not afraid of the word, but of the state of mind, by which the word is produced. How did he reprove them for feeding badly their captives? How was he sold? Did he seek a master? no; but a slave. And when he was sold how did he behave to his master? Immediately he disputed with him and said to his master that he ought not to be dressed as he was, nor shaved in such a manner; and about the children he told them how he ought to bring them up. And what was strange in this? for if his master had bought an exercise master, would he have employed him in the exercises of the palaestra as a servant or as a master? and so if he had bought a physician or an architect. And so in every matter, it is absolutely necessary that he who has skill must be the superior of him who has not. Whoever then generally possesses the science of life, what else must he be than master? For who is master in a ship? The man who governs the helm? Why? Because he who will not obey him suffers for it. But a master can give me stripes. Can he do it then without suffering for it? So I also used to think. But because he cannot do it without suffering for it, for this reason it is not in his power: and no man can do what is unjust without suffering for it. And what is the penalty for him who puts his own slave in chains? what do you think that is? The fact of putting the slave in chains:—and you also will admit this, if you choose to maintain the truth, that man is not a wild beast, but a tame animal. For when is a vine doing badly? When it is in a condition contrary to its nature. When is a cock? Just the same. Therefore a man also is so. What then is a man's nature? To bite, to kick, and to throw into prison and to behead? No; but to do good, to co-operate with others, to wish them well. At that time then he is in a bad condition, whether you chose to admit it or not, when he is acting foolishly.
[35] You exercise yourself daily as you do there in the school. Do not say that you are philosophizing, for that is an arrogant expression. Say instead that you are putting forward a defender of freedom. For this really is freedom. Antisthenes called Diogenes to this freedom, and Diogenes said that no man could make him a slave again. For this reason, when he was taken prisoner, how did he behave toward the pirates? Did he call any of them master? I am not speaking of the name, for I am not afraid of the word. I mean the state of mind that produces it. How did he rebuke them for feeding their captives badly? How was he sold? Was he looking for a master? No, he was looking for a slave. And when he was sold, how did he behave toward his master? He immediately argued with him. He told his master that he should not dress or shave as he did. He also told him how he ought to raise his children. What was strange about that? If his master had bought an exercise trainer, would he have employed him as a servant or as a master in the wrestling school? The same would be true if he had bought a physician or an architect. In every matter, the person with skill must be superior to the person without it. Whoever possesses the general art of living must therefore be a master. For who is master on a ship? The person who steers it. Why? Because anyone who refuses to obey him suffers for it. But a master can whip me. Can he do it without suffering for it? I too once thought so. But because he cannot do it without suffering for it, it is not in his power. No one can do wrong without suffering for it. And what is the penalty for a man who puts his own slave in chains? What do you think it is? It is the act of putting the slave in chains. You too will admit this if you choose to stand by the truth that man is not a wild beast, but a tame animal. When is a vine in a bad condition? When its condition is contrary to its nature. When is a rooster in a bad condition? In just the same way. The same is therefore true of a man. What, then, is man's nature? Is it to bite, kick, imprison, and behead? No. It is to do good, cooperate with others, and wish them well. So a man is in a bad condition when he acts foolishly, whether you choose to admit it or not.
The word is καρπιστην δίδως. See iii. 24. 76 and note 15. See also Upton's note on this passage. Schweig. says he does not quite understand why Epictetus uses διδόναι καρπίστην, 'dare vindicem' or 'adsertorem,' here instead of 'vindicare sese in libertatem.'
See iii. 24. 66, ii. 13. 24.
See the same story in Aulus Gellius (ii. c. 18). He says that Xeniades, a Corinthian, bought Diogenes, freed him, and made him the teacher of his children.
See Schweig.'s note 15,
Socrates then did not fare badly?—No; but his judges and his accusers did.—Nor did Helvidius at Rome fare badly?—No; but his murderer did. How do you mean?—The same as you do when you say that a cock has not fared badly when he has gained the victory and been severely wounded; but that the cock has fared badly when he has been defeated and is unhurt: nor do you call a dog fortunate, who neither pursues game nor labours, but when you see him sweating, when you see him in pain and panting violently after running. What paradox (unusual thing) do we utter if we say that the evil in every thing is that which is contrary to the nature of the thing? Is this a paradox? for do you not say this in the case of all other things? Why then in the case of man only do you think differently? But because we say that the nature of man is tame (gentle) and social and faithful, you will not say that this is a paradox? It is not—What then is it a paradox to say that a man is not hurt when he is whipped, or put in chains, or beheaded? does he not, if he suffers nobly, come off even with increased advantage and profit? But is he not hurt, who suffers in a most pitiful and disgraceful way, who in place of a man becomes a wolf, or viper or wasp?
Did Socrates, then, not come to harm? No, but his judges and accusers did. And did Helvidius at Rome not come to harm? No, but his murderer did. What do you mean? I mean the same thing you do when you say a victorious rooster has not come to harm, though severely wounded. But you say the defeated rooster has come to harm, though unhurt. Nor do you call a dog fortunate when he neither chases game nor works hard. You call him fortunate when you see him sweating, in pain, and panting heavily after running. What is paradoxical, or unusual, about saying that evil in anything is what goes against its nature? Is that a paradox? Don't you say this about everything else? Why, then, do you think differently only when it comes to humans? But surely you won't call it a paradox when we say that human nature is gentle, social, and faithful? No, it isn't. Then is it a paradox to say that a man is not harmed when he is whipped, chained, or beheaded? If he suffers nobly, doesn't he come away even better off? But isn't a man harmed when he suffers in a pitiful and disgraceful way, becoming a wolf, viper, or wasp instead of a man?
See i. 2, note 5.
I don't know if dogs sweat. At least, I've never seen a healthy dog sweat. But that's a question for experts in dog science.
See Schweig.'s note.
Well then let us recapitulate the things which have been agreed on. The man who is not under restraint is free, to whom things are exactly in that state in which he wishes them to be; but he who can be restrained or compelled or hindered, or thrown into any circumstances against his will, is a slave. But who is free from restraint? He who desires nothing that belongs to (is in the power of) others. And what are the things which belong to others? Those which are not in our power either to have or not to have, or to have of a certain kind or in a certain manner. Therefore the body belongs to another, the parts of the body belong to another, possession (property) belongs to another. If then you are attached to any of these things as your own, you will pay the penalty which it is proper for him to pay who desires what belongs to another. This road leads to freedom, this is the only way of escaping from slavery, to be able to say at last with all your soul
Well then, let us review what we have agreed on. A person is free if he faces no restraint and things are exactly as he wishes them to be. But a person is a slave if he can be restrained, forced, hindered, or placed in any circumstances against his will. Who is free from restraint? Anyone who desires nothing that belongs to others (that is, nothing in their power). And what things belong to others? They are things we cannot control whether we have, or what kind we have, or how we have them. Therefore, the body belongs to another, as do its parts. Property also belongs to another. So if you are attached to any of these things as your own, you will pay the proper penalty for desiring what belongs to another. This is the road to freedom, the only way to escape slavery. It is to be able to say at last, with all your soul
As Upton notes, Epictetus is referring to the four Stoic categories.
Lead me, O Zeus, and thou O destiny, The way that I am bid by you to go.
Lead me, Zeus and destiny, Along the path you command me to follow.
Epictetus, Encheiridion c. 52. M. Antoninus, Gatak. 2d. ed. 1697, Annot. p. 96.
But what do you say, philosopher? The tyrant summons you to say something which does not become you. Do you say it or do you not? Answer me—Let me consider—Will you consider now? But when you were in the school, what was it which you used to consider? Did you not study what are the things that are good and what are bad, and what things are neither one nor the other?—I did.—What then was our opinion?—That just and honourable acts were good; and that unjust and disgraceful (foul) acts were bad. Is life a good thing?—No.—Is death a bad thing?—No.—Is prison?—No.—But what did we think about mean and faithless words and betrayal of a friend and flattery of a tyrant?—That they are bad.—Well then, you are not considering, nor have you considered nor deliberated. For what is the matter for consideration, is it whether it is becoming for me, when I have it in my power, to secure for myself the greatest of good things, and not to secure for myself (that is, not to avoid) the greatest evils? A fine inquiry indeed, and necessary, and one that demands much deliberation. Man, why do you mock us? Such an inquiry is never made. If you really imagined that base things were bad and honourable things were good, and that all other things were neither good nor bad, you would not even have approached this enquiry, nor have come near it; but immediately you would have been able to distinguish them by the understanding as you would do (in other cases) by the vision. For when do you inquire if black things are white, if heavy things are light, and do not comprehend the manifest evidence of the senses? How then do you now say that you are considering whether things which are neither good nor bad ought to be avoided more than things which are bad? But you do not possess these opinions; and neither do these things seem to you to be neither good nor bad, but you think that they are the greatest evils; nor do you think those other things (mean and faithless words, etc.) to be evils, but matters which do not concern us at all. For thus from the beginning you have accustomed yourself. Where am I? In the schools and are any listening to me? I am discoursing among philosophers. But I have gone out of the school. Away with this talk of scholars and fools. Thus a friend is overpowered by the testimony of a philosopher: thus a philosopher becomes a parasite; thus he lets himself for hire for money: thus in the senate a man does not say what he thinks; in private (in the school) he proclaims his opinions. You are a cold and miserable little opinion, suspended from idle words as from a hair. But keep yourself strong and fit for the uses of life and initiated by being exercised in action. How do you hear (the report)?—I do not say, that your child is dead—for how could you bear that?—but that your oil is spilled, your wine drunk up. Do you act in such a way that one standing by you while you are making a great noise, may say this only, Philo sopher, you say something different in the school. Why do you deceive us? Why, when you are only a worm, do you say that you are a man? I should like to be present when some of the philosophers is lying with a woman, that I might see how he is exerting himself, and what words he is uttering, and whether he remembers his title of philosopher, and the words which he hears or says or reads.
But what do you say, philosopher? The tyrant orders you to say something unworthy of you. Do you say it or not? Answer me. “Let me think.” Will you stop to think now? But what did you think about when you were in school? Didn’t you study what is good, what is bad, and what is neither? “I did.” What did we decide? “That just and honorable actions are good, and unjust and disgraceful actions are bad.” Is life good? “No.” Is death bad? “No.” Is prison bad? “No.” But what did we think about mean and faithless words, betraying a friend, and flattering a tyrant? “That they are bad.” Well then, you are not thinking, and you have not thought or deliberated. What is there to think about? When I can secure the greatest goods for myself and avoid the greatest evils, should I do it? A fine question indeed, and a necessary one, requiring much thought. Man, why are you mocking us? No one ever asks such a question. If you truly believed that base things were bad, honorable things were good, and everything else was neither, you would never have come close to asking it. You would immediately recognize the difference with your mind, just as you recognize other differences by sight. When do you stop to ask whether black things are white or heavy things are light? When do you fail to grasp what your senses plainly show you? How, then, can you say you are considering whether to avoid things that are neither good nor bad rather than things that are bad? You do not hold the beliefs you claim. You do not think these things are neither good nor bad. You think they are the greatest evils. And you do not think those other things, such as mean and faithless words, are evils. You think they are matters that do not concern us at all. You have trained yourself to think this way from the beginning. “Where am I? Am I in school, with people listening to me? I am speaking among philosophers. But now I have left school. Away with this talk of scholars and fools.” This is how a philosopher’s testimony brings down a friend: this is how a philosopher becomes a parasite. This is how he hires himself out for money. This is how a man keeps his thoughts to himself in the senate, while he proclaims his opinions in private, in the school. You are a cold and miserable little opinion, hanging from idle words as if by a hair. Instead, make yourself strong and ready for the demands of life. Put yourself into practice and gain experience through action. How do you take the news? I do not mean news that your child has died. How could you bear that? I mean news that your oil has spilled or your wine has been drunk. Do you make such a fuss that someone standing by can only say, “Philosopher, you say something different in school. Why do you deceive us? Why do you call yourself a man when you are only a worm?” I would like to be there when one of these philosophers is lying with a woman. I would like to see how hard he tries, what words he says, and whether he remembers his title of philosopher and the words he hears, says, or reads.
Mrs. Carter says that 'there is much obscurity and some variety of reading in several lines of the original.' But see Schweig.'s notes. Epictetus is showing that talking about philosophy is useless. Philosophy should be practical.
And what is this to liberty? Nothing else than this, whether you who are rich choose or not.—And who is your evidence for this?—who else than yourselves? who have a powerful master (Caesar), and who live in obedience to his nod and motion, and who faint if he only looks at you with a scowling countenance; you who court old women and old men, and say, I cannot do this: it is not in my power. Why Why is it not in your power? Did you not lately contend with me and say that you are free? But Aprulla has hindered me? Tell the truth then, slave, and do not run away from your masters, nor deny, nor venture to produce any one to assert your freedom (καρπιστήν), when you have so many evidences of your slavery. And indeed when a man is compelled by love to do something contrary to his opinion (judgment), and at the same time sees the better, but has not the strength to follow it, one might consider him still more worthy of excuse as being held by a certain violent and in a manne a divine power. But who could endure you who are in [50] love with old women and old men, and wipe the old women's noses, and wash them and give them presents, and also wait on them like a slave when they are sick, and at the same time wish them dead, and question the physicians whether they are sick unto death? And again, when in order to obtain these great and much admired magistracies and honours, you kiss the hands of these slaves of others, and so you are not the slave even of free men. Then you walk about before me in stately fashion a praetor or a consul. Do I not know how you became a praetor, by what means you got your consulship, who gave it to you? I would not even choose to live, if I must live by help of Felicion and endure his arrogance and servile insolence: for I know what a slave is, who is fortunate, as he thinks, and puffed up by pride.
And what does this have to do with freedom? Simply this: whether you rich people choose it or not. Who is my witness? Who else but you yourselves? You have a powerful master, Caesar, and live at the command of his nod or gesture. You faint if he merely looks at you with a scowl. You court old women and old men, and say, “I cannot do this. It is not in my power.” Why is it not in your power? Did you not recently argue with me and say that you are free? “But Aprulla has prevented me.” Then tell the truth, slave. Do not run away from your masters or deny them. Do not dare to produce anyone to assert your freedom (καρπιστήν) when you have so much evidence of your slavery. When love forces a man to act against his judgment, he sees the better course but lacks the strength to follow it. One might consider him more deserving of pardon. For he is held by a violent and, in a way, divine power. But who could put up with you? You are in [50] love with old women and old men. You wipe the old women’s noses, wash them, and give them presents. You wait on them like a slave when they are sick. At the same time, you wish them dead and ask their doctors whether they are dying. And again, to obtain these great and much admired offices and honors, you kiss the hands of other people’s slaves. So you are not even the slave of free men. Then you parade before me in all your dignity as a praetor or a consul. Do I not know how you became a praetor, how you gained your consulship, and who gave it to you? I would not even choose to live if I had to depend on Felicion and put up with his arrogance and servile insolence. For I know what a slave is like when he thinks himself fortunate and is puffed up with pride.
Horace Sat. ii. 5.
Aprulla is a Roman woman's name. It refers to an old woman who is pursued for her money.
Felicion. See i. 19, p. 62.
You then, a man may say, are you free? I wish, by the Gods, and pray to be free; but I am not yet able to face my masters, I still value my poor body, I value greatly the preservation of it entire, though I do not possess it entire. But I can point out to you a free man, that you may no longer seek an example. Diogenes was free. How was he free?—not because he was born of free parents, but because he was himself free, because he had cast off all the handles of slavery, and it was not possible for any man to approach him, nor had any man the means of laying hold of him to enslave him. He had everything easily loosed, everything only hanging to him. If you laid hold of his property, he would have rather let it go and be yours, than he would have followed you for it: if you had laid hold of his leg, he would have let go his leg; if of all his body, all his poor body; his intimates, friends, country, just the same. For he knew from whence he had them, and from whom, and on what conditions. His true parents indeed, the Gods, and his real country he would never have deserted, nor would he have yielded to any man in obedience to them and to their orders, nor would any man have died for his country more readily. For he was not used to inquire when he should be considered to have done anything on behalf of the whole of things (the universe, or all the world), but he remembered that every thing which is done comes from thence and is done on behalf of that country and is commanded by him who administers it. Therefore see what Diogenes himself says and writes:—"For this reason, he says, Diogenes, it is in your power to speak both with the King of the Persians and with Archidamus the king of the Lacedaemonians, as you please." Was it because he was born of free parents? I suppose all the Athenians and all the Lacedaemonians because they were born of slaves, could not talk with them (these kings) as they wished, but feared and paid court to them. Why then does he say that it is in his power? Because I do not consider the poor body to be my own, because I want nothing, because law is every thing to me, and nothing else is. These were the things which permitted him to be free.
Someone may ask, “Are you free, then?” By the Gods, I wish and pray to be free. But I cannot yet face my masters. I still value my poor body. I care greatly about keeping it whole, though it is not whole. But I can point you to a free man, so you need no longer look for an example. Diogenes was free. How was he free? Not because he was born to free parents, but because he was free himself. He had cast off everything by which slavery could take hold of him. No one could get close enough to seize and enslave him. Everything he had was loosely attached to him and easily let go. If you seized his property, he would rather let you have it than go after you to recover it. If you seized his leg, he would let go of his leg. If you seized his whole body, he would let go of his whole poor body. The same was true of his close companions, friends, and country. For he knew where they came from, who had given them to him, and on what conditions. But he would never have deserted his true parents, the Gods, or his real country. He would never have given way to anyone in obeying them and their commands. No one would have died for his country more readily. For he did not ask when he could be said to have done something for the whole of things (the universe, or all the world). Instead, he remembered that everything done comes from that country, is done for it, and is commanded by the one who governs it. So look at what Diogenes himself says and writes: “For this reason, Diogenes, you can speak as you please to both the King of the Persians and Archidamus, king of the Lacedaemonians.” Was it because he was born to free parents? I suppose all the Athenians and all the Lacedaemonians were born to slaves. That must be why they could not speak to these kings as they wished, but feared them and sought their favor. Why, then, does Diogenes say he can speak as he pleases? Because I do not consider my poor body my own. Because I want nothing. Because law is everything to me, and nothing else is. These were the things that allowed him to be free.
Epictetus refers to his lameness. Compare i. 8. 14, i. 16. 20, and other passages. Upton.
Schweig. doubts that the words οὐ γὰρ ἦν, which I have omitted, are genuine. He gives his reasons for doubting them.
Schweig. has a note on this difficult, rather unclear passage.
The meaning of 'law' (ὁ vóμos) can be understood from what follows. Compare Socrates' discussion of obedience to the law. (Criton, c. 11, &c.)
And that you may not think that I show you the example of a man who is a solitary person, who has neither wife nor children, nor country, nor friends nor kinsmen, by whom he could be bent and drawn in various directions, take Socrates and observe that he had a wife and children, but he did not consider them as his own; that he had a country, so long as it was fit to have one, and in such a manner as was fit; friends and kinsmen also, but he held all in subjection to law and to the obedience due to it. For this reason he was the first to go out as a soldier, when it was necessary, and in war he exposed himself to danger most unsparingly; and when he was sent by the tyrants to seize Leon, he did not even deliberate about the matter, because he thought that it was a base action, and he knew that he must die (for his refusal), if it so happened. And what difference did that make to him? for he intended to preserve something else, not his poor flesh, but his fidelity, his honourable character. These are things which could not be assailed nor brought into subjection. Then when he was obliged to speak in defence of his life, did he behave like a man who had children, who had a wife? No, but he behaved like a man who has neither. And what did he do when he was (ordered) to drink the poison, and when he had the power of escaping from prison, and when Crito said to him, Escape for the sake of your children, what did Socrates say? did he consider the power of escape as an unexpected gain? By no means: he considered what was fit and proper; but the rest he did not even look at or take into the reckoning. For he did not choose, he said, to save his poor body, but to save that which is increased and saved by doing what is just, and is impaired and destroyed by doing what is unjust. Socrates will not save his life by a base act; he who would not put the Athenians to the vote when they clamoured that he should do so, he who refused to obey the tyrants, he who discoursed in such a manner about virtue and right behaviour. It is not possible to save such a man's life by base acts, but he is saved by dying, not by running away. For the good actor also preserves his character by stopping when he ought to stop, better than when he goes on acting beyond the proper time. What then shall the children of Socrates do? "If," said Socrates, "I had gone off to Thessaly, would you have taken care of them; and if I depart to the world below, will there be no man to take care of them?" See how he gives to death a gentle name and mocks it. But if you and I had been in his place, we should have immediately answered as philosophers that those who act unjustly must be repaid in the same way, and we should have added, "I shall be useful to many, if my life is saved, and if I die, I shall be useful to no man." For, if it had been necessary, we should have made our escape by slipping through a small hole. And how in that case should we have been useful to any man? for where would they have been then staying? or if we were useful to men while we were alive, should we not have been much more useful to them by dying when we ought to die, and as we ought? And now Socrates being dead, no less useful to men, and even more useful, is the remembrance of that which he did or said when he was alive.
You might think I am giving you the example of a man who lives alone, with no wife, children, country, friends, or relatives to pull him in different directions. So consider Socrates. He had a wife and children, but he did not regard them as his own. He had a country, as long as it was right to have one, and in the way that was right. He also had friends and relatives, but he placed them all under the law and the obedience it demands. That is why he was the first to go out as a soldier when necessary. In war, he exposed himself to danger without holding back. When the tyrants sent him to seize Leon, he did not even stop to consider it. He thought it was a shameful act, and he knew that he might have to die for refusing. But what difference did that make to him? He intended to preserve something else, not his poor body, but his faithfulness and his honorable character. These could not be attacked or brought into submission. Then, when he had to defend his life, did he behave like a man with children and a wife? No, he behaved like a man who had neither. And what did he do when he was ordered to drink the poison, though he could have escaped from prison? When Crito told him to escape for his children's sake, what did Socrates say? Did he see the chance to escape as an unexpected gift? Not at all. He considered what was right and proper. He did not even look at or take anything else into account. For he said he did not choose to save his poor body. He chose to save what is strengthened and preserved by doing what is just, and damaged and destroyed by doing what is unjust. Socrates will not save his life through a shameful act. He would not put the matter to a vote when the Athenians clamored for him to do so. He refused to obey the tyrants. He spoke as he did about virtue and right conduct. Such a man's life cannot be saved through shameful acts. He is saved by dying, not by running away. A good actor also preserves his character better by stopping when he should than by acting beyond the proper time. What, then, will Socrates' children do? "If," Socrates said, "I had gone to Thessaly, would you have taken care of them? And if I depart to the world below, will there be no one to take care of them?" See how he gives death a gentle name and mocks it. But if you and I had been in his place, we would immediately have answered like philosophers that those who act unjustly must be repaid in the same way. We would have added, "I shall be useful to many if my life is saved, and if I die, I shall be useful to no one." If necessary, we would have escaped by slipping through a small hole. And how could we then have been useful to anyone? For where would they have been staying then? Or if we were useful to people while alive, would we not have been much more useful by dying when and how we ought? And now that Socrates is dead, the memory of what he did and said while alive is no less useful to people. It is even more useful.
See Schweig.'s note on ἀπεριστάτου.
Socrates fought at Potidaea, Amphipolis and Delium. He is said to have won the prize for courage at Delium. He was both a brave soldier and a philosopher, an uncommon combination. (Plato's Apology.)
The Thirty tyrants, who then ruled Athens, ordered Socrates and others to arrest Leon on the island of Salamis. They were to bring Leon back to be put to death. But Socrates refused to obey the order. Few men would have done the same under the circumstances. (Plato's Apology; M. Antoninus, vii. 66.)
Cicero, Tuscul. Disp. i. 29.
Plato's dialogue Criton contains the arguments his friends used to persuade Socrates to escape from prison. It also contains Socrates's reply.
This refers to Socrates’ refusal to put the case of the Athenian generals to a vote. The case concerned their conduct after the naval battle of Arginusae. Severe weather had prevented the commanders from collecting and honorably burying those killed in battle. The Athenians, in their usual haste, wanted all the commanders put to death. But Socrates, who held office at the time, resisted the people’s unjust demands. Xenophon Hellenica, i. c. 7, 15; Plato, Apologia; Xenophon, Memorab. i. 1, 18.
The original is ποῦ γὰρ ἂν ἔτι ἔμενον ἐκεῖνοι; This seems to mean: If we had escaped and left the country, where would the people we could have helped have been? They would have been left behind, and we could have done nothing for them.
[63] Think of these things, these opinions, these words: look to these examples, if you would be free, if you desire the thing according to its worth. And what is the wonder if you buy so great a thing at the price of things so many and so great? For the sake of this which is called liberty, some hang themselves, others throw themselves down precipices, and sometimes even whole cities have perished: and will you not for the sake of the true and unassailable and secure liberty give back to God when he demands them the things which he has given? Will you not, as Plato says, study not to die only, but also to endure torture, and exile, and scourging and in a word to give up all which is not your own? If you will not, you will be a slave among slaves, even if you be ten thousand times a consul; and if you make your way up to the Palace (Caesar's residence), you will no less be a slave; and you will feel, that perhaps philosophers utter words which are contrary to common opinion (paradoxes), as Cleanthes also said, but not words contrary to reason. For you will know by experience that the words are true, and that there is no profit from the things which are valued and eagerly sought to those who have obtained them; and to those who have not yet obtained them there is an imagination (φαντασία), that when these things are come, all that is good will come with them; then, when they are come, the feverish feeling is the same, the tossing to and fro is the same, the satiety, the desire of things which are not present; for freedom is acquired not by the full possession of the things which are desired, but by removing the desire. And that you may know that this is true, as you have laboured for those things, so transfer your labour to these; be vigilant for the purpose of acquiring an opinion which will make you free; pay court to a philosopher instead of to a rich old man: be seen about a philosopher's doors: you will not disgrace yourself by being seen; you will not go away empty nor without profit, if you go to the philosopher as you ought, and if not (if you do not succeed), try at least: the trial (attempt) is not disgraceful.
[63] Think about these things, these opinions, and these words. Look to these examples if you want to be free and value freedom as it deserves. Why be surprised that so great a thing costs so much? For the sake of what is called liberty, some hang themselves, and others throw themselves off cliffs. Sometimes even whole cities have perished. Yet will you not give back to God, when he demands them, the things he has given you? Will you not do so for the sake of true, unassailable, and secure liberty? As Plato says, will you not prepare yourself not only to die but also to endure torture, exile, and whipping? In short, will you not prepare to give up everything that is not your own? If you will not, you will be a slave among slaves, even if you become a consul ten thousand times. Even if you make your way into the Palace, Caesar's residence, you will still be a slave. And you will realize that philosophers perhaps say things contrary to common opinion, as Cleanthes also said. But their words are not contrary to reason. Experience will teach you that their words are true. Those who obtain the things people value and eagerly seek gain no benefit from them. Those who have not yet obtained them imagine (φαντασία) that all good things will come with them. But once they obtain them, they feel the same feverish unrest and toss about as before. They feel the same weariness with what they have and the same desire for what they lack. For freedom comes not from possessing everything we desire, but from removing the desire. To see that this is true, work for freedom as you have worked for those other things. Apply yourself to acquiring an opinion that will make you free. Seek the favor of a philosopher instead of a rich old man. Let yourself be seen at a philosopher's door. You will not disgrace yourself by being seen there. If you approach the philosopher as you should, you will not leave empty-handed or without benefit. And if you do not succeed, at least try. There is no disgrace in trying.
Quod te per Genium, dextramque, Deosque Penates Obsecro et obtestor.
I beg and plead with you by your guardian spirit, your right hand, and your household gods.
At lacrimans exclusus amator limina saepe Floribus et sertis operit.
But the lover, weeping outside the locked door, often covers the threshold with flowers and garlands.
Sic praetextatos referunt Artaxata mores.—Juv. ii. 170.
This is how Artaxata describes the morals of men in purple-bordered togas. Juvenal, ii. 170.
Age, libertate Decembri, Quando ita majores voluerunt, utere.
Come, enjoy the freedom of December, since our ancestors chose it to be so.
Stoicus occidit Baream, delator amicum, Discipulumque senex. Juvenal, iii. 116.
A Stoic killed Barea. An informer killed his friend. An old man killed his pupil. Juvenal, iii. 116.