Book 4, Chapter 4
To Those Who Want to Live Peacefully
Remember that not only the desire of power and of riches makes us mean and subject to others, but even the desire of tranquillity, and of leisure, and of travelling abroad, and of learning. For to speak plainly, whatever the external thing may be, the value which we set upon it places us in subjection to others. What then is the difference between desiring to be a senator or not desiring to be one; what is the difference between desiring power or being content with a private station; what is the difference between saying, I am unhappy, I have nothing to do, but I am bound to my books as a corpse; or saying, I am unhappy, I have no leisure for reading? For as salutations and power are things external and independent of the will, so is a book. For what purpose do you choose to read? Tell me. For if you only direct your purpose to being amused or learning something, you are a silly fellow and incapable of enduring labour. But if you refer reading to the proper end, what else is this than a tranquil and happy life (εὔσοια)? But if reading does not secure for you a happy and tranquil life, what is the use of it? But it does secure this, the man replies, and for this reason I am vexed that I am deprived of it.—And what is this tranquil and happy life, which any man can impede, I do not say Caesar or Caesar's friend, but a crow, a piper, a fever, and thirty thousand other things? But a tranquil and happy life contains nothing so sure as continuity and freedom from obstacle. Now I am called to do something: I will go then with the purpose of observing the measures (rules) which I must keep, of acting with modesty, steadiness, without desire and aversion to things external; and then that I may attend to men, what they say, how they are moved; and this not with any bad disposition, or that I may have something to blame or to ridicule; but I turn to myself, and ask if I also commit the same faults. How then shall I cease to commit them? Formerly I also acted wrong, but now I do not: thanks to God.
Remember that the desire for power and wealth is not the only thing that makes us base and dependent on others. The desire for peace, leisure, travel abroad, and learning does the same. To put it plainly, whatever external thing we value makes us dependent on others. What difference is there between wanting to be a senator and not wanting to be one? What difference is there between wanting power and being content with private life? What difference is there between saying, I am unhappy because I have nothing to do but sit chained to my books like a corpse, and saying, I am unhappy because I have no leisure to read? For greetings and power are external things, beyond the control of the will. So is a book. Tell me, why do you choose to read? If your only purpose is amusement or learning something, you are a fool who cannot endure hard work. But if you read for the proper purpose, what is that purpose but a peaceful and happy life (εὔσοια)? And if reading does not secure a peaceful and happy life for you, what use is it? But it does, the man replies, and that is why I am upset when I cannot read. What kind of peaceful and happy life can be interrupted by anyone? I do not mean just Caesar or a friend of Caesar, but a crow, a flute player, a fever, and thirty thousand other things. Nothing is more essential to a peaceful and happy life than its continuity and freedom from obstacles. Now I am called away to do something. I will go, then, intending to observe the rules I must follow, and to act with modesty and steadiness. I will neither desire nor shrink from external things. I will also pay attention to people, to what they say and how they are moved. I will not do this with ill will, or to find something to criticize or ridicule. Instead, I will turn to myself and ask whether I make the same mistakes. How, then, shall I stop making them? I too used to act wrongly, but now I do not. Thanks to God.
ἀσπασμοί. See later in this chapter.
See Bishop Butler's remarks in the Preface to his Sermons vol. ii. He speaks of the 'idle way of reading and considering things: by this means, time even in solitude is happily got rid of without the pain of attention: neither is any part of it more put to the account of idleness, one can scarce forbear saying, is spent with less thought than great part of that which is spent in reading.'
But to learn the principles and ways of a true life. Hor. Epp. ii. 2. 144. M. Antoninus, iii. 1.
'Readers may grow tired of hearing a claim they will find very difficult to believe. It is that external things are nothing to us because they are not under our control. But this frequent repetition has an excuse. The Stoics rejected stronger supports and so had to dwell on this conclusion, extravagant as it is. One cannot help greatly admiring the very few who tried to improve and elevate themselves on this basis. Perhaps no one ever put this attempt into practice as fully as Epictetus. And no one ever argued for it so well. Yet despite his great abilities and the power of his example, he complained bitterly of his lack of success. This, along with other things in the Stoic writings, shows that virtue cannot be maintained in the world without hope of a future reward.' Mrs. Carter.
Compare Horace, Sat. i. 4. 133: Neque enim cum lectulus etc.
Come, when you have done these things and have attended to them, have you done a worse act than when you have read a thousand verses or written as many? For when you eat, are you grieved because you are not reading? are you not satisfied with eating according to what you have learned by reading, and so with bathing and with exercise? Why then do you not act consistently in all things, both when you approach Caesar, and when you approach any person? If you maintain yourself free from perturbation, free from alarm, and steady; if you look rather at the things which are done and happen than are looked at yourself; if you do not envy those who are preferred before you; if surrounding circumstances (ὕλαι) do not strike you with fear or admiration, what do you want? Books? How or for what purpose? for is not this (the reading of books) a preparation for life? and is not life itself (living) made up of certain other things than this? This is just as if an athlete should weep when he enters the stadium, because he is not being exercised outside of it. It was for this purpose that you used to practise exercise; for this purpose were used the haltéres (weights), the dust, the young men as antagonists; and do you seek for those things now when it is the time of action? This is just as if in the topic (matter) of assent when appearances present themselves, some of which can be comprehended, and some cannot be comprehended, we should not choose to distinguish them but should choose to read what has been written about comprehension (κατάληψις).
Come, when you have done these things and given them your attention, have you done anything worse than reading or writing a thousand verses? When you eat, are you upset because you are not reading? Aren’t you satisfied to eat according to what you have learned from reading? Isn’t the same true when you bathe or exercise? Why, then, don’t you act consistently in everything, whether you approach Caesar or anyone else? Suppose you remain calm, unafraid, and steady. Suppose you pay more attention to what people do and what happens than to being noticed yourself. Suppose you don’t envy those who are favored over you, and your circumstances (ὕλαι) inspire neither fear nor admiration. What more do you want? Books? How would they help, or what would they be for? Isn’t reading books a preparation for life? And isn’t living itself made up of things other than reading? It is as if an athlete wept on entering the stadium because he was no longer training outside it. Competing was the purpose of your training. That was why you used the haltéres (weights), the dust, and the young men who opposed you in practice. And do you look for those things now, when it is time to act? It is also like what happens when appearances present themselves for our assent. Some can be comprehended, and some cannot. Yet instead of choosing to distinguish between them, we choose to read what has been written about comprehension (κατάληψις).
See i. 4. note 5, iii. 15. 4; and i. 24. 1, i. 29. 34. Athletes were oiled, but they rubbed themselves with dust so they could grip one another.
What then is the reason of this? The reason is that we have never read for this purpose, we have never written for this purpose, so that we may in our actions use in a way conformable to nature the appearances presented to us; but we terminate in this, in learning what is said, and in being able to expound it to another, in resolving a syllogism, and in handling the hypothetical syllogism. For this reason where our study (purpose) is, there alone is the impediment. Would you have by all means the things which are not in your power? Be prevented then, be hindered, fail in your purpose. But if we read what is written about action (efforts, ὁρμή), not that we may see what is said about action, but that we may act well: if we read what is said about desire and aversion (avoiding things), in order that we may neither fail in our desires, nor fall into that which we try to avoid; if we read what is said about duty (officium), in order that remembering the relations (of things to one another) we may do nothing irrationally nor contrary to these relations; we should not be vexed in being hindered as to our readings, but we should be satisfied with doing the acts which are conformable (to the relations), and we should be reckoning not what so far we have been accustomed to reckon: To-day I have read so many verses, I have written so many; but (we should say), To-day I have employed my action as it is taught by the philosophers; I have not employed my desire; I have used avoidance (ἐκκλίσει) only with respect to things which are within the power of my will; I have not been afraid of such a person, I have not been prevailed upon by the entreaties of another; I have exercised my patience, my abstinence, my co-operation with others; and so we should thank God for what we ought to thank him.
Why is this? Because we have never read or written for the purpose of responding to impressions in accordance with nature. Instead, we stop at learning what is said and explaining it to someone else. We learn to solve a syllogism, and to handle a hypothetical syllogism. For this reason, we encounter obstacles only where we direct our efforts. Do you insist on having things that are not in your power? Then you must expect to be blocked, hindered, and disappointed. But suppose we read what is written about action (efforts, ὁρμή), not just to learn what is said, but to act well. Suppose we read about desire and aversion (avoiding things) so that we neither fail to get what we desire nor encounter what we avoid. Suppose we read about duty (officium) so that we remember how things relate to one another and do nothing irrational or contrary to those relations. Then we would not be upset when our reading was interrupted. We would be satisfied to act in ways that respected those relations. We would no longer keep count as we are accustomed to do: Today I have read so many verses, I have written so many. Instead, we would say: Today I have acted as the philosophers teach. I have not exercised my desire. I have avoided only things that are within the power of my will. I have not been afraid of one person or given in to another's pleas. I have practiced patience, self-restraint, and cooperation with others. In this way, we would thank God for what we ought to thank him for.
M. Antoninus, i. 17, thanks the Gods that he did not waste time solving syllogisms.
See iii. c. 2.
See Aulus Gellius xvii. 19. He quotes Epictetus on what Gellius calls 'intolerantia' and 'incontinentia.' Compare M. Antoninus (v. 33) on the precept Ἀνέχου and Ἀπέχου.
But now we do not know that we also in another way are like the many. Another man is afraid that he shall not have power: you are afraid that you will. Do not do So, my man; but as you ridicule him who is afraid that he shall not have power, so ridicule yourself also. For it makes no difference whether you are thirsty like a man who has a fever, or have a dread of water like a man who is mad. Or how will you still be able to say as Socrates did, If so it pleases God, so let it be? Do you think that Socrates if he had been eager to pass his leisure in the Lyceum or in the Academy and to discourse daily with the young men, would have readily served in military expeditions so often as he did; and would he not have lamented and groaned, Wretch that I am; I must now be miserable here, when I might be sunning myself in the Lyceum? Why, was this your business, to sun yourself? And is it not your business to be happy, to be free from hindrance, free from impediment? And could he still have been Socrates, if he had lamented in this way: how would he still have been able to write Paeans in his prison?
But we do not realize that we are also like most people in another way. Another man is afraid he will not have power. You are afraid you will. Do not be afraid, my friend. Just as you ridicule the man who fears he will not have power, ridicule yourself too. It makes no difference whether you are thirsty like a man with a fever or fear water like a madman. Otherwise, how will you still be able to say, as Socrates did, “If it pleases God, let it be so”? Suppose Socrates had been eager to spend his leisure in the Lyceum or the Academy, talking daily with young men. Do you think he would have served so willingly in military campaigns as often as he did? Would he not have complained and groaned, “How wretched I am! I must be miserable here when I could be sunning myself in the Lyceum”? But was sunning yourself your business? Is it not your business to be happy, free from obstacles and anything that holds you back? Could Socrates still have been Socrates if he had complained like this? How could he still have written Paeans in prison?
Plato says in the Phaedon (c. 4) that Socrates wrote a hymn to Apollo while in prison.
In short remember this, that what you shall prize which is beyond your will, so far you have destroyed your will. But these things are out of the power of the will, not only power (authority), but also a private condition: not only occupation (business), but also leisure.—Now then must I live in this tumult?—Why do you say tumult?—I mean among many men.—Well what is the hardship? Suppose that you are at Olympia: imagine it to be a panegyris (public assembly), where one is calling out one thing, another is doing another thing, and a third is pushing another person: in the baths there is a crowd: and who of us is not pleased with this assembly, and leaves it unwillingly? Be not difficult to please nor fastidious about what happens.—Vinegar is disagreeable, for it is sharp; honey is disagreeable, for it disturbs my habit of body. I do not like vegetables. So also I do not like leisure; it is a desert: I do not like a crowd; it is confusion.―But if circumstances make it necessary for you to live alone or with a few, call it quiet, and use the thing as you ought: talk with yourself, exercise the appearances (presented to you), work up your preconceptions. If you fall into a crowd, call it a celebration of games, a panegyris, a festival: try to enjoy the festival with other men. For what is a more pleasant sight to him who loves mankind than a number of men? We see with pleasure herds of horses or oxen: we are delighted when we see many ships: who is pained when he sees many men?—But they deafen me with their cries.—Then your hearing is impeded. What then is this to you? Is then the power of making use of appearances hindered? And who prevents you from using according to nature inclination to a thing and aversion from it; and movement towards a thing and movement from it? What tumult (confusion) is able to do this?
In short, remember this: to the extent that you value anything beyond your control, you destroy your will. Both public authority and private life are beyond the will’s control. So are both work and leisure. “But must I live in this turmoil?” Why call it turmoil? “I mean living among many people.” Well, what is so hard about that? Suppose you are at Olympia. Imagine a public gathering, where one person is shouting, another is doing something else, and a third is pushing someone. The baths are crowded. Yet who among us does not enjoy this gathering and leave it reluctantly? Do not be hard to please or fussy about what happens. “Vinegar is unpleasant because it is sharp. Honey is unpleasant because it upsets my body. I do not like vegetables.” In the same way, you say, “I do not like leisure. It is a desert. I do not like a crowd. It is chaos.” But if circumstances require you to live alone or with a few people, call it peace and quiet. Use it as you should. Talk with yourself, practice dealing with the impressions presented to you, and develop your basic ideas. If you find yourself in a crowd, call it a celebration of games, a public gathering, a festival. Try to enjoy the festival with other people. What is a more pleasant sight to someone who loves humanity than a crowd of people? We enjoy seeing herds of horses or oxen. We are delighted to see many ships. Who is distressed by seeing many people? “But they deafen me with their shouting.” Then your hearing is hindered. What does that matter to you? Is your ability to use your impressions hindered? Who can stop you from directing your desires and aversions, your actions and refusals to act, according to nature? What turmoil can do that?
i. 22.
Do you only bear in mind the general rules: what is mine, what is not mine; what is given (permitted) to me; what does God will that I should do now? what does he not will? A little before he willed you to be at leisure, to talk with yourself, to write about these things, to read, to hear, to prepare yourself. You had sufficient time for this. Now he says to you: Come now to the contest, show us what you have learned, how you have practised the athletic art. How long will you be exercised alone? Now is the opportunity for you to learn whether you are an athlete worthy of victory, or one of those who go about the world and are defeated. Why then are you vexed? No contest is without confusion. There must be many who exercise themselves for the contest, many who call out to those who exercise themselves, many masters, many spectators.—But my wish is to live quietly.—Lament then and groan as you deserve to do. For what other is a greater punishment than this to the untaught man and to him who disobeys the divine commands, to be grieved, to lament, to envy, in a word to be disappointed and to be unhappy? Would you not release yourself from these things?—And how shall I release myself?—Have you not often heard, that you ought to remove entirely desire, apply aversion (turning away) to those things only which are within your power, that you ought to give up every thing, body, property, fame, books, tumult, power, private station? for whatever way you turn, you are a slave, you are subjected, you are hindered, you are compelled, you are entirely in the power of others. But keep the words of Cleanthes in readiness.
Just keep the general rules in mind: What is mine, and what is not mine? What am I allowed to do? What does God want me to do now, and what does he not want me to do? A little while ago, he wanted you to have leisure. He wanted you to reflect, write about these things, read, listen, and prepare yourself. You had enough time for that. Now he says to you: Come to the contest. Show us what you have learned and how you have trained as an athlete. How long will you train alone? Now you have the chance to discover what kind of athlete you are. Are you worthy of victory, or are you one of those who travel the world only to be defeated? Why, then, are you upset? No contest is free from confusion. There must be many people training, many calling out to them, many trainers, and many spectators. But you say, “I want to live quietly.” Then lament and groan, as you deserve. What greater punishment is there for an untaught person who disobeys the divine commands? Such a person is grieved, laments, envies others, and, in short, is disappointed and unhappy. Would you not free yourself from these things? You ask, “How can I free myself?” Have you not often heard that you should give up desire entirely? You should turn away only from things within your power. You should give up everything: your body, property, fame, books, commotion, power, and private life. For whichever way you turn, you are a slave. You are subject to others, held back and forced to act. You are entirely in the power of others. But keep the words of Cleanthes ready.
Lead me, O Zeus, and thou necessity.
Lead me, Zeus, and you, necessity.
Compare Encheiridion, 52. Cleanthes was a Stoic philosopher who also wrote poetry. See p. 292, note.
Is it your will that I should go to Rome? I will go to Rome. To Gyara? I will go to Gyara. To Athens? I will go to Athens. To prison? I will go to prison. If you should once say, When shall a man go to Athens? you are undone. It is a necessary consequence that this desire, if it is not accomplished, must make you unhappy; and if it is accomplished, it must make you vain, since you are elated at things at which you ought not to be elated; and on the other hand, if you are impeded, it must make you wretched because you fall into that which you would not fall into. Give up then all these things.—Athens is a good place.—But happiness is much better; and to be free from passions, free from disturbance, for your affairs not to depend on any man. There is tumult at Rome and visits of salutation. But happiness is an equivalent for all troublesome things. If then the time comes for these things, why do you not take away the wish to avoid them? what necessity is there to carry a burden like an ass, and to be beaten with a stick? But if you do not so, consider that you must always be a slave to him who has it in his power to effect your release, and also to impede you, and you must serve him as an evil genius.
Is it your will that I go to Rome? I will go to Rome. To Gyara? I will go to Gyara. To Athens? I will go to Athens. To prison? I will go to prison. But if you once ask, “When will I get to Athens?” you are undone. If your desire is not fulfilled, it will inevitably make you unhappy. If it is fulfilled, it will make you vain. You will be delighted by things that should not delight you. On the other hand, if you are prevented from going, you will be miserable because you face what you wanted to avoid. Give up all these desires. Athens is a good place. But happiness is much better. So is freedom from passions and disturbance, and freedom from having your affairs depend on anyone. Rome has its bustle and its visits to pay respects. But happiness makes up for all these troubles. If the time comes for such things, why not give up your wish to avoid them? Why must you carry a burden like a donkey and be beaten with a stick? But if you do not give up that wish, consider what follows. You must always be a slave to anyone who has the power to free you or hold you back. You must serve him as if he were an evil spirit.
He refers to the practice of dependents paying formal morning visits to the homes of the great and powerful in Rome. Upton refers to Virgil, Georgics, ii. 461,
Compare i. 19. 6.
There is only one way to happiness, and let this rule be ready both in the morning and during the day and by night: the rule is not to look towards things which are out of the power of our will, to think that nothing is our own, to give up all things to the Divinity, to Fortune; to make them the superintendents of these things, whom Zeus also has made so; for a man to observe that only which is his own, that which cannot be hindered; and when we read, to refer our reading to this only, and our writing and our listening. For this reason I cannot call the man industrious, if I hear this only, that he reads and writes; and even if a man adds that he reads all night, I cannot say so, if he knows not to what he should refer his reading. For neither do you say that a man is industrious if he keeps awake for a girl; nor do I. But if he does it (reads and writes) for reputation, I say that he is a lover of reputation. And if he does it for money, I say that he is a lover of money, not a lover of labour; and if he does it through love of learning, I say that he is a lover of learning, But if he refers his labour to his own ruling power (ἡγεμονικόν), that he may keep it in a state conformable to nature and pass his life in that state, then only do say that he is industrious. For never commend a man on account of these things which are common to all, but on account of his opinions (principles); for these are the things which belong to each man, which make his actions bad or good. Remembering these rules, rejoice in that which is present, and be content with the things which come in season. If you see any thing which you have learned and inquired about occurring to you in your course of life (or opportunely applied by you to the acts of life), be delighted at it. If you have laid aside or have lessened bad disposition and a habit of reviling; if you have done so with rash temper, obscene words, hastiness, sluggishness; if you are not moved by what you formerly were, and not in the same way as you once were, you can celebrate a festival daily, to-day because you have behaved well in one act, and to-morrow because you have behaved well in another. How much greater is this a reason for making sacrifices than a consulship or the government of a province? These things come to you from yourself and from the gods. Remember this, who gives these things and to whom, and for what purpose. If you cherish yourself in these thoughts, do you still think that it makes any difference where you shall be happy, where you shall please God? Are not the gods equally distant from all places? Do they not see from all places alike that which is going on?
There is only one way to happiness. Keep this rule in mind in the morning, throughout the day, and at night: Do not look to things beyond the power of our will. Regard nothing as our own. Leave everything to the Divinity and to Fortune. Let those whom Zeus has put in charge of these things manage them. Pay attention only to what is your own, what cannot be hindered. Let this alone be the purpose of your reading, writing, and listening. That is why I cannot call a man hardworking merely because I hear that he reads and writes. Even if someone adds that he reads all night, I cannot call him hardworking unless he knows the proper purpose of his reading. You would not call a man hardworking because he stays awake for a girl. Neither would I. If he reads and writes for a good reputation, I say he loves a good reputation. If he does it for money, I say he loves money, not work. If he does it for love of learning, I say he loves learning. But suppose he works to keep his own ruling power (ἡγεμονικόν) in a state that conforms to nature, and to live in that state. Only then do I call him hardworking. Never praise a man for things that are common to all. Praise him for his opinions (principles), because these belong to each person and make his actions bad or good. Remember these rules, rejoice in the present, and be content with what comes in its proper time. Be delighted when something you have learned and studied comes up in your life, or when you apply it at the right moment. Perhaps you have given up or reduced a bad attitude and a habit of insulting others. Perhaps you have done the same with a rash temper, obscene words, haste, or sluggishness. Perhaps you are no longer moved by what once moved you, or no longer moved in the same way. If so, you can celebrate a festival every day. Today you can celebrate because you acted well in one matter, and tomorrow because you acted well in another. How much greater a reason is this for offering sacrifices than becoming a consul or governing a province? These things come to you from yourself and from the gods. Remember who gives these things, to whom they are given, and for what purpose. If you nurture yourself with these thoughts, do you still think it matters where you are happy or where you please God? Are the gods not equally distant from all places? Do they not see what is happening equally well from every place?
Compare Horace Sat. i. 5. 83.
See Antoninus, vi. 2, and ix. 6: 'Thy present opinion founded on understanding, and thy present conduct directed to social good, and thy present disposition of contentment with everything which happens that is enough.'
Compare Upton's note on ἀπέχουσι, Schweig.'s version, and the Index Graecitatis. These commentators do not seem entirely certain what the text means.