Epictetus's Philosophy

I have made a large Index to this book; and any person, who has the necessary industry, may find in it almost every passage in the Discourses in which the opinions of the philosopher are stated; and thus he may acquire a general notion of the philosophical system of Epictetus. But few readers will have the time and the inclination for this labour, and therefore I shall attempt to do the work for them.

I have made a detailed index for this book. Anyone willing to put in the effort can use it to find almost every passage in the Discourses that states the philosopher's views. In this way, a reader can gain a general understanding of Epictetus's philosophical system. But few readers will have the time and inclination to do this work, so I will try to do it for them.

I have found two expositions of the system of Epictetus. One is by Dr. Heinrich Ritter in his Geschichte der Philosophie alter Zeit, Vierter Theil, 1839. The other is by Professor Christian A. Brandis.² Both of these expositions are useful; and I have used them. I do not think that either of them is complete, nor will mine be. I shall not make my exposition exactly in the same form as either of them; nor shall I begin it in the same way.

I have found two explanations of Epictetus’s system. One is by Dr. Heinrich Ritter in his Geschichte der Philosophie alter Zeit, Vierter Theil, 1839. The other is by Professor Christian A. Brandis.² Both explanations are useful, and I have used them. I do not think either is complete, and mine will not be complete either. I will not follow exactly the same form as either author, or begin in the same way.

Ritter has prefixed a short sketch of C. Musonius Rufus, a Roman Stoic, to his exposition of the system of Epictetus. Rufus taught at Rome under the emperor Nero, who drove him from Rome; but Rufus returned after the tyrant's death, and lived to the times of Vespasian and his son Titus. He acquired great reputation as a teacher, but there is no evidence that he wrote anything, and all that we know of his doctrines is from a work of Pollio in Greek, which was written after the model of Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates. Of this work there are many fragments.³

Ritter begins his explanation of Epictetus’s system with a short sketch of C. Musonius Rufus, a Roman Stoic. Rufus taught in Rome under the emperor Nero, who drove him from the city. But Rufus returned after the tyrant’s death and lived into the time of Vespasian and his son Titus. He became highly respected as a teacher, but there is no evidence that he wrote anything. All we know of his doctrines comes from a Greek work by Pollio. Pollio modeled it on Xenophon’s Memorabilia of Socrates. Many fragments of Pollio’s work survive.³

Rufus taught a practical philosophy, one that was useful for the purposes of life, and for the life of a philosopher who was not hindered by following the common occupations of mankind from philosophizing and aiding others to philosophize.⁴ He urged young men especially to the study of philosophy, and even women, because without philosophy no person can be virtuous and do his duty. He asks, what hinders the scholar from working with his teacher and at the same time learning from him something about moderation (σωφροσύνη) and justice and endurance? His belief in the power of philosophy over men's minds was strong, and he was convinced that it was a perfect cure for the corruption of mankind. He showed the firmness of this conviction on an occasion which is recorded by Tacitus (Hist. iii. 81). He endeavoured to mediate between the partizans of Vitellius who were in Rome, and the army of Vespasian, which was before the gates: but he failed in his attempt. His behaviour was like that of a modern Christian, who should attempt to enforce the Christian doctrines of peace on men who are arrayed against one another with arms in their hands. Such a Christian would be called a fanatic now; and Tacitus, who was himself a philosopher, gives to the behaviour of Rufus the mild term of "intempestivam" or "unseasonable." The judgment of Tacitus was right: the behaviour of Rufus was unseasonable, as the result proved: but the attempt of Rufus was the act of a good man.

Rufus taught a practical philosophy, useful in everyday life and in the life of a philosopher. A philosopher could follow the ordinary occupations of humankind without being prevented from practicing philosophy and helping others to do so.⁴ Rufus urged young men in particular to study philosophy, and women too. Without philosophy, he believed, no one can be virtuous and do their duty. He asked what prevents a student from working with a teacher while also learning moderation (σωφροσύνη), justice, and endurance from him. Rufus strongly believed in philosophy’s power over people’s minds. He was convinced that it was a perfect cure for human corruption. He showed how firm this conviction was on an occasion recorded by Tacitus (Hist. iii. 81). He tried to make peace between the supporters of Vitellius in Rome and Vespasian’s army outside the gates, but he failed. He acted like a modern Christian trying to persuade armed men facing each other to follow Christian teachings on peace. Such a Christian would now be called a fanatic. Tacitus, who was himself a philosopher, used the mild term "intempestivam" or "unseasonable" to describe Rufus’s conduct. Tacitus was right. Rufus’s conduct was unseasonable, as the result showed, but his attempt was the act of a good man.

Rufus did not value Dialectic or Logic so highly as the old Stoics; but he did not undervalue it, and he taught that a man should learn how to deal with sophistical arguments, as we learn from Epictetus (I. c. 7 at the end).

Rufus did not value dialectic or logic as highly as the old Stoics did. But he did not undervalue them. As we learn from Epictetus, he taught that a man should learn how to deal with deceptive arguments (I. c. 7 at the end).

In his teaching about the Gods he follows the general Stoic practice of maintaining the popular religion. He taught that nothing was unknown to the Gods: as Socrates (Xenophon, Mem. i. c. 1) taught that the Gods knew everything, what was said, what was done, and what men thought. He considered the souls of men to be akin to the Gods; but as they were mingled with the body, the soul must partake of the impurities of the body. The intelligent principle (διάνοια) is free from all necessity (compulsion) and self sufficient (αὐτεξούσιος). We can only conjecture that Rufus did not busy himself about either Dialectic or Physic; for he said that philosophizing was nothing else than an inquiry about what is becoming and conformable to duty; an inquiry which is conducted by reason, and the result is exhibited in practice.

In his teaching about the Gods, he followed the general Stoic practice of upholding popular religion. He taught that nothing was unknown to the Gods. Socrates also taught that the Gods knew everything people said, did, and thought (Xenophon, Mem. i. c. 1). He believed that human souls were akin to the Gods. But because souls were mingled with the body, they must share in its impurities. The thinking faculty (διάνοια) is free from all necessity (compulsion) and self-sufficient (αὐτεξούσιος). We can only guess that Rufus did not concern himself with either Dialectic or Physic. He said that philosophy was nothing more than an inquiry into what is proper and in keeping with duty. This inquiry is guided by reason, and its results are shown in practice.

The old Stoics considered virtue to be the property only of the wise man; and they even doubted whether such a man could be found. But Rufus said that it was not impossible for such a man to exist, for we cannot conceive such virtues as a wise man possesses otherwise than from the examples of human nature itself and by meeting with men such as those who are named divine and godlike. The Stoical doctrine that man should live according to nature is not pressed so hard by Rufus as by some Stoics, and he looks on a life which is conformable to nature as not very difficult; but he admits that those who attempt philosophy have been trained from youth in great corruption and filled with wickedness, and so when they seek after virtue they require more discipline or practice. Accordingly he views philosophy as a spiritual medicine, and gives more weight to the practice or exercise of virtue than the older Stoics did. The knowledge and the teaching of what is good, he says, should come first; but Rufus did not believe that the knowledge of the Good was strong enough without practice (discipline) to lead to moral conduct, and consequently he believed that practice has greater efficacy than teaching.⁵ He makes two kinds of exercise, first, the exercise of the soul in thinking, in reflecting and in stamping on the mind sound rules of life; and second, in the enduring of bodily labours or pains, in which act of endurance the soul and the body act together.

The early Stoics believed that only the wise man possessed virtue. They even doubted whether such a man could be found. But Rufus said that a wise man could exist. He argued that we can imagine a wise man’s virtues only from examples of human nature itself. We find such examples by meeting men like those called divine and godlike. Rufus did not stress the Stoic teaching that people should live according to nature as strongly as some Stoics did. He believed that living according to nature was not very difficult. But he acknowledged that those who take up philosophy have been raised in great corruption and filled with wickedness from youth. So when they seek virtue, they need more discipline or practice. Rufus therefore saw philosophy as medicine for the spirit. He placed greater weight on practicing virtue than the earlier Stoics did. He said that learning and teaching what is good should come first. But he did not believe that knowledge of the Good alone was strong enough to lead to moral conduct. He therefore believed that practice was more effective than teaching.⁵ He identified two kinds of exercise. The first is exercise of the soul through thinking, reflection, and impressing sound rules for living on the mind. The second is enduring physical work or pain, an exercise in which soul and body act together.

"The sum of his several rules of life," says Ritter, may be thus briefly expressed: in his opinion a life according to Nature results in a social, philanthropic and contented state of mind, joined to the most simple satisfaction of our necessary wants. We see his social and philanthropic disposition in this that he opposes all selfishness (selbstsucht), that he views marriage not only as the sole right and natural satisfaction of the sexual feelings, but also as the foundation of family, of a state, and of the continuation of the human race; and accordingly he declares himself against the exposure of children as an unnatural practice; and he often recommends beneficence."

"The sum of his rules for living," says Ritter, may be briefly stated this way: In his view, living according to Nature leads to a sociable, generous, and contented state of mind. It also means satisfying our basic needs as simply as possible. We see his sociable and generous nature in his opposition to all selfishness (selbstsucht). He views marriage as the only right and natural way to satisfy sexual desires. He also sees it as the foundation of the family, the state, and the continuation of the human race. Accordingly, he opposes the abandonment of children as an unnatural practice. He also often recommends acts of kindness.

Epictetus was a pupil of this noble Roman teacher, whose name occurs several times in the Discourses. Ritter conjectures that Epictetus also heard Euphrates, whom he highly commends. It has been justly said that, though Epictetus is named a Stoic, and that his principles are Stoical, he is not purely a Stoic. He learned from other teachers as well as the Stoic. He quotes the teaching and example of Socrates continually, and the example of Diogenes the Cynic, both of whom he mentions more frequently than Zeno the founder of the Stoic philosophy. He also valued Plato, who accepted from Socrates many of his principles, and developed and expanded them. Epictetus learned that the beginning of philosophy is man's knowledge of himself (γνῶθι σεαυτόν), and the acknowledgment of his own ignorance and weakness. He teaches (i. c. 17; ii. c. 14; ii. c. 10) that the examination of names, the understanding of the notion, of the conception of a thing, is the beginning of education: he consistently teaches that we ought to pity those who do wrong, for they err in ignorance (i. c. 18; ii. c. 22, p. 181); and, as Plato says, every mind is deprived of truth unwillingly. Epictetus strongly opposes the doctrines of Epicurus, of the newer Academics, and of Pyrrho, the great leader of the Sceptical school (i. c. 5, c. 23; ii. c. 20). He has no taste for the subtle discussions of these men. He says (p. 81), "Let the followers of Pyrrho and the Academics come and make their objections. For I, as to my part, have no leisure for these disputes, nor am I able to undertake the defence of common consent (opinion)." “How indeed perception is effected, whether through the whole body or any part, perhaps I cannot explain; for both opinions perplex me. But that you and I are not the same, I know with perfect certainty. How do you know it? When I intend to swallow anything, I never carry it to your mouth, but to my own. And you yourselves (the Pyrrhonists), who take away the evidence of the senses, do you act otherwise? Who among you, when he intended to enter a bath, ever went into a mill?” He also says (ii. c. 20) that “the propositions which are true and evident are of necessity used even by those who contradict them; and a man might perhaps consider it to be the greatest proof of a thing being evident that it is found to be necessary even for him who denies it to make use of it at the same time. For instance, if a man should deny that anything is universally true, it is plain that he must make the contradictory negation, that nothing is universally true.”

Epictetus was a pupil of this noble Roman teacher, whose name appears several times in the Discourses. Ritter suggests that Epictetus also listened to Euphrates, whom he praises highly. It has rightly been said that Epictetus was not purely a Stoic, though he is called one and his principles are Stoic. He learned from other teachers as well as the Stoics. He continually quotes Socrates’ teaching and cites his example. He also cites the example of Diogenes the Cynic. He mentions both men more often than Zeno, the founder of Stoic philosophy. He also valued Plato, who adopted many of Socrates’ principles and developed and expanded them. Epictetus learned that philosophy begins with knowing oneself (γνῶθι σεαυτόν) and acknowledging one’s own ignorance and weakness. He teaches (i. c. 17, ii. c. 14, ii. c. 10) that education begins by examining words and understanding the ideas they express. He consistently teaches that we should pity those who do wrong, because their errors come from ignorance (i. c. 18, ii. c. 22, p. 181). As Plato says, every mind is deprived of truth against its will. Epictetus strongly opposes the doctrines of Epicurus, the newer Academics, and Pyrrho, the great leader of the Sceptical school (i. c. 5, c. 23, ii. c. 20). He has no taste for their subtle debates. He says (p. 81), "Let the followers of Pyrrho and the Academics come and raise their objections. For my part, I have no time for these disputes, and I cannot undertake to defend common opinion." “How perception works, whether through the whole body or some part of it, I perhaps cannot explain. Both views puzzle me. But I know with perfect certainty that you and I are not the same person. How do I know? When I intend to swallow something, I never put it in your mouth, but in my own. And you Pyrrhonists, who reject the evidence of the senses, do you act differently? Which of you has ever gone into a mill when he meant to enter a bath?” He also says (ii. c. 20) that “even those who deny true and self-evident propositions must use them. Perhaps the greatest proof that something is self-evident is this: even someone who denies it must use it while denying it. For example, if someone denies that anything is universally true, he clearly must make the opposite claim, that nothing is universally true.”

Epictetus did not undervalue Dialectic or Logic, and the solution of what are called Sophistical and Hypothetical arguments (i. c. 7); but he considered the handling of all such arguments as a thing relating to the duties of life, and as a means towards Ethic, or the practice of morals. Rufus said, “for a man to use the appearances presented to him rashly and foolishly and carelessly, and not to understand argument nor demonstration nor sophism, nor, in a word, to see in questioning and answering what is consistent with that which we have granted or is not consistent: is there no error in this”? Accordingly Dialectic is not the object of our life, but it is a means for distinguishing between true and false appearances, and for ascertaining the validity of evidence, and it gives us security in our judgments. It is the application of these things to the purposes of life which is the first and necessary part of philosophy. So he says in the Encheiridion (LI.): "The first and most necessary place in philosophy is the use of theorems (precepts), for instance, That we must not lie: the second is that of demonstration, for instance, How is it proved that we ought not to lie: the third is that which is confirmatory of these two and explanatory, for example, How is this a demonstration"? The philosophy of Epictetus is in fact only the way of living as a man ought to live, according to his nature.

Epictetus did not undervalue dialectic, or logic, or the solving of what are called sophistical and hypothetical arguments (i. c. 7). But he considered such arguments relevant to the duties of life. He saw them as a means to ethics, or the practice of morals. Rufus said, “Is there no error in using the appearances presented to us rashly, foolishly, and carelessly? Is there no error in failing to understand argument, demonstration, or sophism? In short, is there no error in failing to see whether a question or answer is consistent with what we have granted?” Accordingly, dialectic is not the aim of our lives. It is a means of distinguishing between true and false appearances and testing the validity of evidence. It also gives us confidence in our judgments. Applying these things to the purposes of life is the first and most necessary part of philosophy. As Epictetus says in the Encheiridion (LI.): “The first and most necessary part of philosophy is applying precepts, for example, that we must not lie. The second is demonstration, for example, how is it proved that we ought not to lie? The third confirms and explains the first two, for example, how is this a demonstration?” Epictetus’s philosophy is, in fact, simply the way a man ought to live, according to his nature.

Epictetus accordingly views that part of the Stoic teaching, named Physic or the Nature of things, also as subordinate to his philosophy, which is purely Ethical. We ought to live according to Nature, and therefore we must inquire what the Law of Nature is. The contemplation of the order of things is the duty of man, and to observe this wonderful system of which man is a part; but the purpose of the contemplation and the observation is that we may live a life such as we ought to live. He says (Frag. CLXXV., "What do I care whether all things are composed of atoms or of similar parts, or of fire and earth? for is it not enough to know the nature of the good and the evil, and the measures of the desires and aversions, and also the movements towards things and from them; and using these as rules to administer the affairs of life, but not to trouble ourselves about the things above us? For these things are perhaps incomprehensible to the human mind: and if any man should even suppose them to be in the highest degree comprehensible, what then is the profit of them, if they are comprehended? And must we not say that those men have needless trouble who assign these things as necessary to a philosopher's discourse?" Epictetus then did not value the inquiries of the Physical philosophers, or he had no taste for them. His Philosophy was Ethical, and his inquiry was, What is the rule of life?

Epictetus therefore regards the Stoic teaching called Physic, or the nature of things, as subordinate to his philosophy, which is purely ethical. We should live according to Nature, so we must ask what the Law of Nature is. It is our duty to contemplate the order of things and observe this wonderful system of which we are a part. But we contemplate and observe it so that we can live as we ought to live. He says (Frag. CLXXV.), "What do I care whether all things are made of atoms, similar parts, or fire and earth? Is it not enough to know the nature of good and evil, and the proper limits of desire and aversion? Is it not enough to know how we move toward and away from things? We can use these as rules for conducting our lives, without troubling ourselves about the things above us. For perhaps the human mind cannot understand these things. And even if someone thought them entirely understandable, what would be the benefit of understanding them? Must we not say that those who make these things necessary to a philosopher's discourse are taking needless trouble?" Epictetus, then, did not value the inquiries of the philosophers of nature, or he had no taste for them. His philosophy was ethical, and his question was: What is the rule of life?

"With respect to gods," says Epictetus (i. c. 12), "there are some who say that a divine being does not exist: others say that it exists, but is inactive and careless, and takes no forethought about anything; a third class say such a being exists and exercises forethought, but only about great things and heavenly things, and about nothing on the earth; a fourth class say that a divine being exercises forethought both about things on the earth and heavenly things, but in a general way only, and not about things severally. There is a fifth class to whom Ulysses and Socrates belong, who say, 'I move not without thy knowledge,'" (Iliad, x. 278). After a few remarks Epictetus concludes: "The wise and good man then after considering all these things, submits his own mind to him who administers the whole, as good citizens do to the law of the state."

"Regarding the gods," says Epictetus (i. c. 12), "some people say that no divine being exists. Others say that one exists, but is inactive, unconcerned, and cares for nothing. A third group says that a divine being exists and cares for things, but only for great and heavenly things, and nothing on earth. A fourth group says that a divine being cares for things both on earth and in heaven, but only in general, not individually. There is a fifth group, which includes Ulysses and Socrates, who say, 'I do not move without your knowledge,'" (Iliad, x. 278). After a few remarks, Epictetus concludes: "After considering all these things, the wise and good person submits his own mind to the one who governs everything, just as good citizens submit to the law of the state."

The foundation of the Ethic of Epictetus is the doctrine which the Stoic Cleanthes proclaimed in his hymn to Zeus (God), "From thee our race comes." Epictetus speaks of Gods, whom we must venerate and make offerings to; and of God, from whom we all are sprung in an especial manner. "God is the father both of men and of Gods." This great descent ought to teach us to have no ignoble or mean thoughts about ourselves. He says, "Since these two things are mingled in the generation of man, body in common with the animals, and reason and intelligence in common with the Gods, many incline to this kinship, which is miserable and mortal; and some few to that which is divine and happy" (i. c. 3). In a chapter of Providence (i. c. 6) he attempts to prove the existence of God and his government of the world by everything which is or happens; but in order to understand these proofs, a man, he says, must have the faculty of seeing what belongs and happens to "all persons and things, and a grateful disposition" (also, i. c. 16). He argues from the very structure of things which have attained their completion, that we are accustomed to show that a work is certainly the act of some artificer, and that it has not been constructed without a purpose. "Does then each of these things demonstrate the workman, and do not visible things and the faculty of seeing and light demonstrate him"? He then considers the constitution of man's understanding and its operations; and he asks, if this is not sufficient to convince us, let people "explain to us what it is that makes each several thing, or how it is possible that things so wonderful and like the contrivances of art should exist by chance and from their own proper motion"?

The foundation of Epictetus’s ethics is the teaching proclaimed by the Stoic Cleanthes in his hymn to Zeus (God): "Our race comes from you." Epictetus speaks of Gods whom we must honor and make offerings to. He also speaks of God, from whom we all descend in a special way. "God is the father of both men and Gods." This noble origin should teach us not to think of ourselves in base or unworthy ways. He says, "Two things are joined in the making of a human being. We share our bodies with animals, and our reason and intelligence with the Gods. Many lean toward the kinship that is miserable and mortal. A few lean toward the kinship that is divine and happy" (i. c. 3). In a chapter on Providence (i. c. 6), he tries to prove God’s existence and his rule of the world through everything that exists or happens. But to understand these proofs, he says, a person must be able to see what belongs to and happens to "all persons and things, and have a grateful disposition" (also, i. c. 16). He argues from the very structure of things that have reached their completed form. We commonly use such structure to show that a work was certainly made by a craftsman and was not made without a purpose. "Does each of these things show that there was a maker? And do visible things, the ability to see, and light not show that there is one?" He then considers the nature of human understanding and how it works. If this is not enough to convince us, he asks people to "explain to us what makes each individual thing. Or how can things so wonderful and so like works of art exist by chance and through their own motion"?

It is enough for animals to do what their nature leads them to do without understanding why they do it. But it is not enough for us to whom God has given also the intellectual faculty; for unless we act conformably to the nature and constitution of each thing, we shall never attain our true end. God has introduced man into the world to be a spectator of God and his works; and not only a spectator of them, but an interpreter. For this reason, he says, "it is shameful for man to begin and to end where irrational animals do; but rather he ought to begin where they begin, and to end where nature ends in us; and nature ends in contemplation and understanding, and in a way of life conformable to nature" (p. 21). He examines in another chapter (i. c. 9), How from the fact that we are akin to God, a man may proceed to the consequences. Here he shows that a man who has observed with intelligence the administration of the world, and has learned that the greatest community is that which is composed of men and God, and that from God came all beings which are produced on the earth, and particularly rational beings who are by reason conjoined with him,—"why should not such a man call himself a citizen of the world, why not a son of God, and why should he be afraid of anything which happens among men?—when you have God for your maker, and father, and guardian, shall not this release us from sorrows and fears?"

It is enough for animals to follow their nature without understanding why. But that is not enough for us, since God has also given us the ability to think. Unless we act according to the nature and makeup of each thing, we will never achieve our true purpose. God has brought human beings into the world to observe him and his works, but also to interpret them. For this reason, he says, "it is shameful for a person to begin and end where irrational animals do. Instead, a person should begin where they begin and end where our nature ends. And our nature ends in contemplation and understanding, and in a way of life that follows nature" (p. 21). In another chapter (i. c. 9), he examines what a person may conclude from our kinship with God. He describes a man who has carefully observed how the world is governed. Such a man has learned that the greatest community is made up of human beings and God. He has also learned that all beings born on earth come from God. This is especially true of rational beings, who are joined to God by reason. "Why should such a man not call himself a citizen of the world? Why not a son of God? And why should he fear anything that happens among men? When you have God as your maker, father, and guardian, should this not free us from sorrow and fear?"

In this chapter also is a supposed address of Epictetus to those people who on account of the bonds of the body and the troubles of this life intend to throw them off, "and to depart to their kinsmen." Epictetus says, "Friend wait for God: when He shall give the signal and release you from this service, then go to Him; but for the present endure to dwell in this place where He has put you—wait then, do not depart without a reason." He gives the example of Socrates, who said that if God has put us in any place, we ought not to desert it. I think that Epictetus did not recommend suicide in any case, though he admitted that there were cases in which he would not condemn it; but a man ought to have good reasons for leaving his post.

This chapter also imagines Epictetus addressing people who intend to cast off the bonds of the body and the troubles of life, "and go to their kinsmen." Epictetus says, "Friend, wait for God. When he gives the signal and releases you from this service, go to him. But for now, endure living in the place where he has put you. Wait, then, and do not leave without a reason." He gives the example of Socrates, who said that if God has put us somewhere, we should not desert that place. I think Epictetus did not recommend suicide in any case, though he admitted that in some cases he would not condemn it. But a person should have good reasons for leaving their post.

The teaching of Epictetus, briefly expressed, is, that man ought to be thankful to God for all things, and always content with that which happens, for what God chooses is better than what man can choose (iv. c. 7). This is what Bishop Butler says, "Our resignation to the will of God may be said to be perfect when our will is lost and resolved up into his; when we rest in his will as our end, as being itself most just and right and good." (Sermon on the Love of God.)

In short, Epictetus teaches that people should thank God for all things and always be content with what happens. This is because what God chooses is better than what people can choose (iv. c. 7). Bishop Butler says the same: "Our acceptance of God's will may be called perfect when our own will is absorbed into his. Then we rest in his will as our goal, because it is itself most just, right, and good." (Sermon on the Love of God.)

I have not discovered any passage in which Epictetus gives any opinion of the mode of God's existence. He distinguishes God the maker and governor of the universe from the universe itself. His belief in the existence of this great power is as strong as any Christian's could be; and very much stronger than the belief of many who call themselves Christians, and who solemnly and publicly declare "I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth." Epictetus teaches us what our duty is towards God; and there is no doubt that he practised what he taught, as a sincere and honest man should do, or at least try to do with all his might. We must suppose that a man of his temper of mind, and his great abilities did what he recommends (Fragments, cxviii., cxix.): "Let your talk of God be renewed every day rather than your food"; and "Think of God more frequently than you breathe." I see no other conclusion that such a man could come to than this, that God exists without doubt, and that He is incomprehensible to such feeble creatures as man who lives in so feeble a body. See p. 21, note 5.

I have found no passage where Epictetus gives an opinion about how God exists. He distinguishes God, the maker and ruler of the universe, from the universe itself. His belief in the existence of this great power is as strong as any Christian's could be. It is much stronger than the belief of many who call themselves Christians. They solemnly and publicly declare, "I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth." Epictetus teaches us our duty to God. There is no doubt that he practiced what he taught. That is what a sincere and honest man should do, or at least try to do with all his might. Given his character and great abilities, we must suppose he followed his own advice (Fragments, cxviii., cxix.): "Let your talk of God be renewed every day rather than your food" and "Think of God more frequently than you breathe." I can see only one conclusion that such a man could reach: God exists without doubt. But he is beyond the understanding of such a weak creature as man, who lives in such a weak body. See p. 21, note 5.

We must now see what means God has given to His children for doing their duty. Epictetus begins by showing what things God has put in our power, and what things he has not (i. c. 1; Encheir. 1). "That which is best of all and supreme over all is the only thing which the gods have placed in our power, the right use of appearances; but all other things they have not placed in our power"; and the reason of this limitation of man's power is, "that as we exist on the earth and are bound to such a body and to such companions, how was it possible for us not to be hindered as to these things by externals?" He says again (Encheirid. 1): "Of things some are in our power, and others are not. In our power are opinion, movement towards a thing, desire, aversion (turning from a thing); and in a word, whatever are our own acts: not in our power are the body, property, reputation, offices (magisterial power), and in a word, whatever are not our own acts. And the things in our power are by nature free, not subject to restraint nor hindrance: but the things not in our power are weak, slavish, subject to restraint, in the power of others." This is his notion of man's freedom. On this notion all his system rests. He says (i. c. 17): "if God had made that part of himself, which he took from himself and gave to us, of such a nature as to be hindered or compelled either by himself or by another, he would not then be God nor would he be taking care of us as he ought."

We must now see what means God has given his children to do their duty. Epictetus begins by showing what God has put in our power and what he has not (i. c. 1; Encheir. 1). "The best thing of all, supreme over everything else, is the only thing the gods have put in our power: the right use of appearances. They have not put anything else in our power." He explains why human power is limited: "We live on earth and are bound to such a body and such companions. How, then, could we avoid being hindered in these other things by external forces?" He says again (Encheirid. 1): "Some things are in our power, and others are not. In our power are opinion, action toward something, desire, aversion (turning away from something), and, in short, whatever we do ourselves. Not in our power are the body, property, reputation, public office (the power of a magistrate), and, in short, whatever we do not do ourselves. The things in our power are naturally free and cannot be restrained or hindered. But the things not in our power are weak, slavish, subject to restraint, and in the power of others." This is his idea of human freedom. His whole system rests on this idea. He says (i. c. 17): "God took a part of himself and gave it to us. If he had made that part capable of being hindered or compelled by himself or anyone else, he would not be God. Nor would he be taking care of us as he ought."

He says (i. c. 1; iii. c. 3; and elsewhere) that the right use of appearances is the only thing that the gods have placed in our power; and "that it is the business of the wise and good man to use appearances conformably to nature." For this purpose a man has what Epictetus names a ruling faculty (τὸ ἡγεμονικόν), of which he gives a definition or description (iv. c. 7). It is that faculty "which uses all other faculties and tries them, and selects and rejects;" a faculty by which we reflect and judge and determine, a faculty which no other animal has, a faculty which, as Bishop Butler says, "plainly bears upon it marks of authority over all the rest, and claims the absolute direction of them all, to allow or forbid their gratification" (Preface to the Sermons).

Epictetus says (i. c. 1, iii. c. 3, and elsewhere) that the gods have placed only one thing in our power: the proper use of appearances. He also says "that it is the task of the wise and good man to use appearances in accordance with nature." For this purpose, a person has what Epictetus calls a ruling faculty (τὸ ἡγεμονικόν). He defines or describes it in iv. c. 7. It is the faculty "that uses and tests all other faculties, and selects and rejects." Through it, we reflect, judge, and make decisions. No other animal has this faculty. As Bishop Butler says, it "clearly bears marks of authority over all the others. It claims absolute control over them all, allowing or forbidding their gratification" (Preface to the Sermons).

These appearances are named φαντασίαι by Epictetus; and the word is translated "Visa animi" by Gellius (Frag. clxxx.). This Phantasy (φαντασία) is not only the thing which is perceived by the eyes, but the impression which is made on the eyes, and generally it means any impression received by the senses; and also it is the power of the mind to represent things as if they were present, though they are only present in the mind and are really absent. This power of Phantasy exists also in animals in various degrees according to their several capacities: animals make use of appearances, but man only understands the use of appearances (i. c. 6).⁶ If a man cannot or does not make a right use of appearances, he approaches the nature of an irrational animal; and he is not what God made him capable of being.

Epictetus calls these appearances φαντασίαι. Gellius translates the word as "Visa animi" (Frag. clxxx.). Phantasy (φαντασία) means not only what the eyes perceive, but also the impression made on them. More generally, it means any impression received through the senses. It also means the mind’s power to represent things as if they were present, though they exist only in the mind and are really absent. Animals also have this power of Phantasy, to different degrees according to their capacities. Animals make use of appearances, but only humans understand how to use them (i. c. 6).⁶ If a person cannot or does not use appearances correctly, he comes closer to the nature of an irrational animal. He is not what God made him capable of being.

The nature of the Good is in the use of appearances, and the nature of evil likewise; and things independent of the will do not admit either the nature of evil or of good (ii. c. 1). The good and the bad are in man's will, and in nothing external. The rational power therefore leads us to acknowledge as good only that which is conformable to reason, and to recognize as bad that which is not conformable to reason. The matter on which the good man labours is his rational faculty (τὸ ἴδιον ἡγεμονικόν): that is the business of the philosopher (iii. c. 3). A man who wishes to be what he is by nature, by his constitution, adapted for becoming, must "struggle against appearances" (ii. c. 18). This is not an easy thing, but it is the only way of obtaining true freedom, tranquillity of mind, and the dominion over the movements of the soul, in a word happiness, which is the true end and purpose of man's existence on earth. Every man carries in him his own enemy, whom he must carefully watch (Ench. xlviii.). There is danger that appearances, which powerfully resist reason, will carry you away: if you are conquered twice or even once, there is danger that a habit of yielding to them will be formed. "Generally, then, if you would make anything a habit, do it: if you would not make it a habit, do not do it; but accustom yourself to do something else in place of it" (ii. c. 18). As to pleasure Epictetus says (Ench. xxxiv.): "If you have received the impression (φαντασίαν) of any pleasure, guard yourself against being carried away by it; but let the thing wait for you, and allow yourself a certain delay on your own part. Then think of both times, of the time when you will enjoy the pleasure, and of the time after the enjoyment of the pleasure when you will repent and reproach yourself. And set against these things how you will rejoice, if you have abstained from the pleasure, and how you will commend yourself. But if it seem to you seasonable to undertake (do) the thing, take care that the charm of it, and the pleasure, and the attraction of it shall not conquer you: and set on the other side the consideration how much better it is to be conscious that you have gained this victory."

Good and evil both lie in how we respond to appearances. Things outside our will are neither good nor evil (ii. c. 1). Good and bad lie in a person's will, and in nothing external. Reason therefore leads us to call good only what agrees with reason, and bad what does not. The good person works on their own capacity to reason (τὸ ἴδιον ἡγεμονικόν). That is the philosopher's task (iii. c. 3). Anyone who wishes to become what their nature and constitution fit them to be must "struggle against appearances" (ii. c. 18). This is not easy. But it is the only way to gain true freedom, peace of mind, and control over the soul's movements. In short, it is the only way to gain happiness, the true end and purpose of human life on earth. Every person carries an enemy within and must watch that enemy carefully (Ench. xlviii.). Appearances powerfully resist reason, and there is a danger that they will carry you away. If you give in twice, or even once, you risk forming a habit of yielding to them. "In general, then, if you want to make something a habit, do it. If you do not want to make it a habit, do not do it. Instead, make a habit of doing something else" (ii. c. 18). On pleasure, Epictetus says (Ench. xxxiv.): "If you receive an impression (φαντασίαν) of any pleasure, guard against being carried away by it. Let the pleasure wait, and give yourself some time. Then think of both times: when you will enjoy the pleasure, and afterward, when you will regret it and reproach yourself. Set against these thoughts how glad you will be if you abstain, and how you will praise yourself. But if it seems to you the right time to do it, take care not to be conquered by its charm, pleasure, and attraction. Set against them the thought of how much better it is to know that you have won this victory."

Hence the rule that a man must be careful and cautious in everything which is in the power of the will; but on the contrary, with respect to externals which are not in a man's power, he must be bold. "Confidence (courage) then ought to be employed against death, and caution against the fear of death: but now we do the contrary, and employ against death the attempt to escape; and to our opinion about it we employ carelessness, rashness and indifference" (ii. c. 1). For the purification of the soul and enabling it to employ its powers a man must root out of himself two things, arrogance (pride, οἴησις) and distrust. "Arrogance is the opinion that you want nothing (are deficient in nothing); but distrust is the opinion that you cannot be happy when so many circumstances surround you."⁷

The rule, then, is that a person must be careful and cautious about everything within the power of the will. But a person must be bold about external things that are beyond that power. "We should face death with confidence (courage) and be cautious about fearing it. But now we do the opposite. We try to escape death, while treating our opinion of death with carelessness, rashness, and indifference" (ii. c. 1). To purify the soul and enable it to use its powers, a person must root out two things: arrogance (pride, οἴησις) and distrust. "Arrogance is the belief that you need nothing (that you lack nothing). But distrust is the belief that you cannot be happy when so many circumstances surround you."⁷

The notion of Good and Bad should be firmly fixed in man's mind. There is in the opinion of Epictetus no difference among men on this matter. He says (ii. c. 11) on the beginning of Philosophy: As to good and evil, and what we ought to do and what we ought not to do, and the like, "whoever came into the world without having an idea (ἔμφυτος ἔννοια) of them?" These general notions he names προλήψεις, preconceptions, or praecognitions (ii. c. 2); and we need discipline "in order to learn how to adapt the preconception of the rational and the irrational to the several things conformably to nature." Why then do men differ in their opinions about particular things? The differences arise in the adaptation of the praecognitions to the particular cases. He says (iv. c. 1): "This is the cause to men of all their evils, the not being able to adapt the general preconceptions to the several things." It is so in everything. General principles are often very simple and intelligible; but when we come to the application of the principles, there arises difficulty and difference of opinions. "Education is the learning how to adapt the natural praecognitions to the particular things conformably to nature; and then to distinguish that of things some are in our power, but others are not." The Great Law of Life (i. c. 26) is that we must act conformably to nature. "In theory there is nothing which draws us away from following what is taught; but in the matters of life, many are the things which distract us." A man then must not begin with the matters of real life, for it is not easy to begin with the more difficult things. "This then is the beginning of philosophy, a man's perception of the state of his ruling faculty; for when a man knows that it is weak, then he will not employ it on things of the greatest difficulty"; and again (ii. 11), “the beginning of philosophy is a man's consciousness about his own weakness and inability about necessary things": and further, “this is the beginning of philosophy, a perception of the disagreement of men with one another, and an inquiry into the cause of the disagreement, and a condemnation and distrust of that which only 'seems,' and a certain investigation of that which 'seems,' whether it 'seems' rightly, and a discovery of some rule, as we have discovered a balance in the determination of weights, and a carpenter's rule (or square) in the case of straight and crooked things. This is the beginning of philosophy."

The idea of good and bad should be firmly fixed in everyone’s mind. Epictetus believes that people do not differ on this matter. In his discussion of the beginning of philosophy (ii. c. 11), he asks about good and evil, what we should and should not do, and similar matters: “Whoever came into the world without an idea (ἔμφυτος ἔννοια) of them?” He calls these general notions προλήψεις, preconceptions, or praecognitions (ii. c. 2). We need discipline “to learn how to apply the preconception of the rational and the irrational to particular things in accordance with nature.” Why, then, do people disagree about particular things? They differ in how they apply these praecognitions to particular cases. He says (iv. c. 1): “This is the cause of all human evils: the inability to apply general preconceptions to particular things.” This is true of everything. General principles are often very simple and clear. But when we try to apply them, difficulties and disagreements arise. “Education is learning how to apply our natural praecognitions to particular things in accordance with nature. It is also learning to distinguish between things that are in our power and things that are not.” The Great Law of Life (i. c. 26) is that we must act in accordance with nature. “In theory, nothing draws us away from following what we are taught. But in daily life, many things distract us.” A person should not begin with the affairs of real life, for it is not easy to begin with the harder things. “This, then, is the beginning of philosophy: recognizing the condition of one’s ruling faculty. For once a person knows it is weak, they will not use it on the most difficult things.” Again (ii. 11), he says, “The beginning of philosophy is being aware of one’s own weakness and inability in necessary matters.” He adds, “This is the beginning of philosophy: recognizing that people disagree with one another and investigating the cause of their disagreement. It means rejecting and distrusting what merely ‘seems’ true, and examining whether it ‘seems’ true rightly. It also means discovering a standard, just as we have discovered a balance for determining weights and a carpenter’s rule (or square) for determining what is straight or crooked. This is the beginning of philosophy.”

Epictetus urges the fact of a man assenting to or not assenting to a thing as a proof that man possesses something which is naturally free. He says (p. 253): "Who is able to compel you to assent to that which appears false? No man. And who can compel you not to assent to that which appears true? No man. By this then you see that there is something in you naturally free. But to desire or to be averse from, or to move towards an object or to move from it, or to prepare yourself, or to propose to do anything, which of you can do this, unless he has received an impression of the appearance of that which is profitable or a duty? No man. You have then in these things also something which is not hindered and is free. Wretched men, work out this, take care of this, seek for good here." (Compare iv. c. 1 p. 303, and note 20.)

Epictetus points to a person's ability to accept or reject something as proof that people possess something naturally free. He says (p. 253): "Who can force you to accept what seems false? No one. And who can force you to reject what seems true? No one. From this, you can see that there is something in you that is naturally free. But consider desiring or avoiding something, moving toward or away from an object, preparing yourself, or intending to do anything. Can any of you do these things without first having the impression that they are beneficial or your duty? No one can. In these things, too, you have something that is free and cannot be hindered. You wretched people, develop this, care for it, and seek good here." (Compare iv. c. 1 p. 303, and note 20.)

Here the philosopher teaches that a man's opinion or his belief cannot be compelled by another, though we may conclude from what we see and hear and is done in the world, that a large part of mankind do not know this fact. A man cannot even think or believe as he chooses himself: if a thing is capable of demonstration, and if he understands demonstration, he must believe what is demonstrated. If the thing is a matter of probable evidence, he will follow that which seems the more probable, if he has any capacity for thinking. I say 'any capacity' for thinking, because the intellectual power in the minds of a great number of persons is very weak; and in all of us often very weak compared with the power of the necessities of our nature, of our desires, of our passions, in fact of all that is in this wonderful creature man, which is not pure reason or pure understanding or whatever name we give to the powers named intellectual.

Here the philosopher teaches that no one can force another person to hold an opinion or belief. Yet much of what we see and hear in the world suggests that many people do not know this. A person cannot even think or believe as they choose. If something can be proved, and a person understands the proof, they must believe what it shows. If the evidence only makes something probable, a person with any capacity for thinking will follow what seems more likely. I say 'any capacity' for thinking because many people's intellectual powers are very weak. And in all of us, those powers are often very weak compared with the force of our natural needs, desires, and passions. In fact, they are weak compared with everything in this wonderful creature, man, that is not pure reason or understanding, whatever name we give to those intellectual powers.

The second part of this last quotation from Epictelus relates to the Will, by which I mean, and I suppose that he means, the wish and the intention and the attempt to do something particular, or to abstain from doing some particular thing. Much has been written about man's Will. Some persons think that he has none; that he moves as he is moved, and cannot help himself. Epictetus has no essay or dissertation on this matter; and it would have been contrary to his method of teaching to make a formal discussion of the Will, after the manner of modern philosophers. He does not touch on the question of man's will as dependent on the will of God, or as acting in opposition to it. God has made man as free as he could be in such a body, in which he must live on the earth. This body is not man's own, but it is clay finely tempered; and God has also given to man a small portion of himself, in a word, the faculty of using the appearances of things, of which faculty. Epictetus says, "if you will take care of this faculty and consider it your only possession, you will never be hindered, never meet with impediments, you will not lament, you will not blame, you will not flatter any person" (i. c. 1). He says (iv. c. 12) that God "has placed me with myself, and has put my will in obedience to myself alone, and has given me rules for the right use of it."

The second part of this last quotation from Epictelus concerns the Will. By this I mean, and I suppose he means, the desire, intention, and attempt to do or not do something specific. Much has been written about the human Will. Some people think that a person has no will, but is moved by outside forces and cannot act otherwise. Epictetus wrote no essay or dissertation on this subject. A formal discussion of the Will, like those of modern philosophers, would have been contrary to his teaching method. He does not address whether a person's will depends on God's will or acts against it. God has made people as free as they can be in the bodies they must inhabit on earth. The body does not belong to a person. It is finely shaped clay. God has also given people a small part of himself: the ability to make use of how things appear. Epictetus says of this ability, "if you take care of this ability and consider it your only possession, you will never be held back or meet with obstacles. You will not mourn, blame anyone, or flatter anyone" (i. c. 1). He says (iv. c. 12) that God "has put me in my own care, and has made my will answerable to me alone, and has given me rules for using it rightly."

The word of Epictetus which I have always translated by Will is προαίρεσις, which is literally a 'preference,' a choice of one thing before another, or before any other thing; a description which is sufficiently intelligible.⁸ [7] Though Epictetus contends that man has power over his will, he well knew how weak this power sometimes is. An appearance, he says (p. 86), is presented, and straightway I act according to it; and, what is the name of those who follow every appearance? They are called madmen.—Such are a large part of mankind; and it is true, that many persons have no Will at all. They are deceived by appearances, perplexed, tossed about like a ship which has lost the helm: they have no steady, fixed, and rational purpose. Their perseverance or obstinacy is often nothing more than a perseverance in an irrational purpose. It is often so strong and so steady that the man himself and others too may view it as a strong will; and it is a strong will, if you choose, but it is a will in a wrong direction. "The nature of the Good is a certain Will: the nature of the Bad is a certain kind of Will" (i. c. 29).

The word Epictetus uses, which I have always translated as Will, is προαίρεσις. It literally means a 'preference', a choice of one thing over another, or over any other thing. That description is clear enough.⁸ [7] Though Epictetus argues that people have power over their will, he knew well how weak that power sometimes is. An appearance presents itself, he says (p. 86), and I immediately act on it. What do we call those who follow every appearance? We call them madmen. A large part of mankind is like this. Indeed, many people have no Will at all. They are deceived by appearances, confused, and tossed about like a ship that has lost its helm. They have no steady, fixed, rational purpose. Their persistence or stubbornness is often nothing more than persistence in an irrational purpose. It is often so strong and steady that both they and others may see it as a strong will. And it is a strong will, if you like, but it is directed the wrong way. "The nature of the Good is a certain Will: the nature of the Bad is a certain kind of Will" (i. c. 29).

Those who have been fortunate in their parents and in their education, who have acquired good habits, and are not greatly disturbed by the affects and the passions, may pass through life calmly and with little danger, even when the powers of the will are very weak, and hardly ever exercised. Life with them is fortunately a series of habits, generally good, or at least not bad. This is the condition of many men and women. They are good or seem to be good, because they are not tried above their power; but if a temptation should suddenly surprise them when they are not prepared for it, they are conquered and they fall. Even a man, who has trained himself to the exercise of his rational faculties and has for a long time passed a blameless life, may in a moment when his vigilance is relaxed, when he is off his guard, be defeated by the enemy whom he always carries about with him.

People who have been fortunate in their parents and education may acquire good habits and be little troubled by their emotions and passions. They may go through life calmly and with little danger, even when their willpower is very weak and hardly ever used. For them, life is fortunately a series of habits, generally good or at least not bad. This is the condition of many men and women. They are good, or seem good, because they are not tested beyond their strength. But if temptation suddenly catches them unprepared, they are overcome and fall. Even a man who has trained himself to use his reason and lived a blameless life for a long time may be defeated. In a moment when his vigilance relaxes and he lets down his guard, he may be defeated by the enemy he always carries within him.

The difference between a man, who has within him the principles of reason and him who has not, appears from a story told by Gellius (xix. 1):—We were sailing, he says, from Cassiopa to Brundisium when a violent storm came on. In the ship there was a Stoic philosopher, a man of good repute. He who told the story says that he kept his eyes on the philosopher to see how he behaved under the circumstances. The philosopher did not weep and bewail like the rest, but his complexion and apparent perturbation did not much differ from those of the other passengers. When the danger was over, a wealthy Greek from Asia, went up to the Stoic, and in an insulting manner said, How is this, philosopher? when we were in danger, you were afraid and grew pale; but I was neither afraid nor was I pale. The philosopher after a little hesitation said, If I seemed to be a little afraid in so violent a tempest, you are not worthy to hear the reason of it. However he told the man a story about Aristippus⁹, who on a like occasion was questioned by a man like this Greek; and so the philosopher got rid of the impertinent fellow. When they arrived at Brundisium, the narrator asked the philosopher for an explanation of his fear, which the philosopher readily gave. He took out of his bag a work of Epictetus, the fifth book of his discourses in which was the following passage (Frag. clxxx.): The affects of the mind (visa animi), which philosophers name φαντασίαι, by which a man's mind is struck by the first appearance of a thing which approaches, are not things which belong to the will nor in our power, but by a peculiar force they intrude themselves on men. But the assents, which they name συγκαταθέσεις (the assents of the judgment), by which the same affects (visa animi) are known and determined are from the will and are in the power of men to make. For this reason when some frightful sound in the heavens or from a fall, or some sudden news of danger comes, or any thing of the same kind happens, it is unavoidable that even the mind of the wise man must be moved somewhat and confounded, and that he must grow pale, not through an opinion which he has first conceived of any danger (or evil), but by certain rapid and inconsiderate emotions which anticipate (prevent) the exercise of the mind and the reason. In a short time however the wise man does not allow these emotions (visa animi) to remain, but he rejects them, and he sees nothing terrible in them. But this is the difference between the fool and the wise man: the fool, as the things at the first impulse appeared to be dangerous, such he thinks them to be; but the wise man, when he has been moved for a short time, recovers the former state and vigour of his mind, which he always had with reference to such appearances, that they are not objects of fear, but only terrify by a false show.¹⁰

A story told by Gellius (xix. 1) shows the difference between a man who has the principles of reason within him and one who does not. Gellius says: We were sailing from Cassiopa to Brundisium when a violent storm arose. A well-respected Stoic philosopher was aboard. The storyteller watched the philosopher to see how he behaved. The philosopher did not weep and lament like the others. But his color and apparent distress were not much different from those of the other passengers. When the danger had passed, a wealthy Greek from Asia approached the Stoic and said insultingly: How is this, philosopher? When we were in danger, you were afraid and turned pale. But I was neither afraid nor pale. After a little hesitation, the philosopher said: If I seemed a little afraid in such a violent storm, you are not worthy to hear why. However, he told the man a story about Aristippus⁹, who had been questioned on a similar occasion by a man like this Greek. In this way, the philosopher got rid of the rude fellow. When they reached Brundisium, the narrator asked the philosopher to explain his fear, and the philosopher readily did so. He took from his bag a work by Epictetus, the fifth book of his discourses. It contained the following passage (Frag. clxxx.): The impressions of the mind (visa animi), which philosophers call φαντασίαι, strike us when something first appears to us. These impressions are not matters of choice or under our control. Instead, they force themselves upon us. But our assent to them, which philosophers call συγκαταθέσεις (the assents of the judgment), is a matter of choice and under our control. By assenting, we recognize and judge these same impressions. For this reason, a frightening sound from the sky or from a fall may occur. Or sudden news of danger or something similar may come. When such things happen, even a wise man's mind must inevitably be somewhat shaken and confused, and he must grow pale. This is not because he has first formed an opinion that there is danger or evil. Rather, it is because of certain quick, unthinking emotions that arise before his mind and reason can act. Soon, however, the wise man refuses to let these impressions (visa animi) remain. He rejects them and sees nothing terrible in them. This is the difference between the fool and the wise man: the fool thinks things are dangerous because they appeared dangerous at first. But the wise man, after being shaken briefly, recovers his former steadiness and strength of mind. He has always understood that such appearances are not things to fear. They frighten us only by a false appearance.¹⁰

This explanation may be applied to all the events, to all the thoughts and to all the emotions which disturb the mind and the reason, whatever be their cause or nature. If a man's mind has been long under proper discipline, after reflection he is able to recover from this disorder and to resume his former state. If he has not been under proper discipline when his powers of reason are thus assailed, he may do any thing however foolish or bad. A sound exercise of the faculty of the Will therefore requires discipline, in order that it may be corrected and maintained. A man must exercise his will and improve it by labour so as to make it conformable to nature and free. This exercise of the will and the improvement of it are a labour that never ends. A man should begin it as soon as he can. If the question is asked how a man must begin, who has never been trained by a parent or teacher to observe carefully his own conduct, to reflect, to determine, and then to act, I cannot tell. Perhaps a mere accident, some trifle which many persons would not notice, may be the beginning of a total change in a man's life, as in the case a of Polemon, who was a dissolute youth, and as he was by chance passing the lecture room of Xenocrates, he and his drunken companions burst into the room. Polemon was so affected by the words of the excellent teacher, that he came out a different man, and at last succeeded Xenocrates in the school of the Academy (iii. c. 1). Folly and bad habits then may by reflection be altered into wisdom and a good course of life. If such a thing happens, and undoubtedly it has happened, it may be said that the origin of the change is not in a man's will, but in something external. Granted: a thing external has presented an appearance to a man, but the effect of the appearance would not be the same in all men, as we presume that it was not the same, as the story is told, in Polemon and his companions. One man in this case had a temper or disposition and a capacity to use his mental power and to profit by the words of Xenocrates. It may be said that way this temper or disposition and capacity are not in the power of a man's Will; and this is true. But that matter is nothing to us. Men have various capacities, and, as Epictetus would say, they are the gift of God, who distributes them as he pleases. One man has the power of using an appearance in a way which is good for himself, and another has not. We can say no more. In whatever then a man has been led to exercise his will towards a good end, he must practise the exercise of his will for such an end; he must make a habit of it, which habit will acquire strength; and he may then have a reasonable hope that he will not often fail in his good purpose. This I believe to be the meaning of Epictetus, as we may collect from the numerous passages in which he speaks of the will. I hope that no reader will think that I propose what I have said as a sufficient explanation of a difficult matter. I have only said what I think to be sufficient to explain Epictetus; and I have said what seems to me to be true.

This explanation applies to all the events, thoughts, and emotions that disturb the mind and reason, whatever their cause or nature. If a person's mind has been properly disciplined for a long time, reflection can help them recover and return to their former state. If they have not been properly disciplined, they may do anything when their powers of reason are attacked, however foolish or bad. Sound use of the will therefore requires discipline, so that it can be corrected and maintained. A person must exercise the will and work to improve it, making it free and in harmony with nature. This work of exercising and improving the will never ends. A person should begin as soon as possible. How should someone begin if no parent or teacher has trained them to watch their conduct carefully, reflect, decide, and then act? I cannot say. Perhaps a mere accident, some small thing many people would not notice, may begin a complete change in a person's life. This happened to Polemon, a young man who lived recklessly. One day he happened to pass the lecture room of Xenocrates, and he and his drunken companions burst in. Polemon was so moved by the excellent teacher's words that he came out a different man. Eventually, he succeeded Xenocrates at the Academy (iii. c. 1). Reflection, then, may turn folly and bad habits into wisdom and a good way of life. If such a change happens, and it undoubtedly has happened, one might say its origin lies outside a person's will. Granted, something external has presented an appearance to the person. But the appearance would not have the same effect on everyone. We assume that it did not have the same effect on Polemon and his companions, as the story is told. In this case, one man had the temperament or disposition and the capacity to use his mental powers and benefit from Xenocrates's words. One might say that this temperament or disposition and capacity are not under a person's will, and that is true. But that matter is nothing to us. People have different capacities. As Epictetus would say, these are gifts from God, who distributes them as he pleases. One person has the power to use an appearance in a way that benefits them, and another does not. We can say no more. Whenever a person has been led to exercise the will toward a good end, they must practise doing so. They must make it a habit, and the habit will grow stronger. They may then reasonably hope that they will not often fail in their good purpose. I believe this is what Epictetus means, as we may gather from the many passages in which he speaks of the will. I hope no reader will think I offer what I have said as a complete explanation of a difficult matter. I have said only what I think is enough to explain Epictetus, and what seems to me to be true.

Epicurus taught that we should not marry nor beget children nor engage in public affairs, because these things disturb our tranquillity. Epiotetus and the Stoics taught that a man should marry, should beget children, and discharge all the duties of a citizen. In one of his best discourses (iii. c. 22; About Cynism), in which he describes what kind of person a Cynic (his ideal philosopher) should be, he says that he is a messenger from God (Zeus) to men about good and bad things, to show them that they have wandered and are seeking the substance of good and evil where it is not; but where it is, they never think. The Cynic is supposed to say, How is it possible that a man like himself, who is houseless and has nothing can live happily? The answer is, See, God has sent you a man to show you that it is possible. The man has no city, nor house, he has nothing; he has no wife, nor children; and yet he wants nothing. In reply to a question whether a Cynic should marry and procreate children, Epictetus answers: "If you grant me a community of wise men, perhaps no man will readily apply himself to the Cynic practice." However, he says, if he does, nothing will prevent him from marrying and begetting children, for his wife will be another like himself. "But," he adds, "in the present state of things which is like that of an army placed in battle order, is it not fit that the Cynic should without any distraction be employed only on the ministration of God, able to go about among men, not tied down to the common duties of mankind, nor entangled in the ordinary relations of life, which if he neglects, he will not maintain the character of an honourable and good man? and if he observes them, he will lose the character of the messenger, and spy and herald of God." The conclusion is that it is better for a minister of God not to marry.¹¹

Epicurus taught that we should not marry, have children, or take part in public affairs. He believed these things disturb our peace of mind. Epictetus and the Stoics taught that a man should marry, have children, and fulfill all the duties of a citizen. In one of his best discourses (iii. c. 22; About Cynism), Epictetus describes his ideal philosopher, the Cynic. He says the Cynic is a messenger from God (Zeus) to people about good and bad things. The Cynic shows them that they have gone astray. They look for the true nature of good and evil where it cannot be found. But they never think to look where it can be found. The Cynic is supposed to ask how a homeless man like himself, who has nothing, can live happily. The answer is: Look, God has sent you a man to show you that it is possible. The man has no city or home, and he has nothing. He has no wife or children, and yet he lacks nothing. Epictetus is asked whether a Cynic should marry and have children. He answers: "If you grant me a community of wise men, perhaps no man will readily take up the Cynic way of life." However, he says, if a man does become a Cynic, nothing will prevent him from marrying and having children. His wife will be another person like himself. "But," he adds, "in the present state of affairs, we are like an army ready for battle. Is it not right, then, for the Cynic to devote himself to God's service without distraction? He must be free to go among people, without being tied down by ordinary human duties and relationships. If he neglects those duties and relationships, he will fail to live as an honorable and good man. If he attends to them, he will no longer be God's messenger, scout, and herald." The conclusion is that it is better for a minister of God not to marry.¹¹

Epictetus distinguishes the soul from the body in the chapter (iv. c. 11) about purity (cleanliness); but he wisely does not attempt to define the soul. He says, "We suppose that there is something superior in man and that we first receive it from the Gods: for since the Gods by their nature are pure and free from corruption, so far as men approach them by reason, so far do they cling to purity and to a love (habit) of purity." It is however impossible for man's nature to be altogether pure; but reason endeavours to make human nature love purity. "The first then and highest purity is that which is in the soul; and we say the same of impurity. But you could not discover the impurity of the soul as you could discover that of the body: but as to the soul, what else could you find in it than that which makes it filthy in respect to the acts which are her own? Now the acts of the soul are movement towards an object or movement from it, desire, aversion, preparation, design (purpose), assent. What then is it which in these acts makes the soul filthy and impure? Nothing else than her own bad judgments (κρίματα). Consequently the impurity of the soul is the soul's bad opinions; and the purification of the soul is the planting in it of proper opinions; and the soul is pure which has proper opinions, for the soul alone in her own acts is free from perturbation and pollution."

In the chapter on purity (cleanliness), Epictetus distinguishes the soul from the body (iv. c. 11). But he wisely does not try to define the soul. He says, "We believe that there is something higher in human beings, which we receive first from the Gods. The Gods are naturally pure and free from corruption. So, to the extent that people approach the Gods through reason, they cling to purity and the love (habit) of purity." However, human nature cannot be entirely pure. But reason tries to make human nature love purity. "The first and highest purity, then, is purity of the soul. The same is true of impurity. But you cannot detect impurity in the soul as you can in the body. What could make the soul impure except something that stains its own actions? The soul's actions are moving toward or away from an object, desire, aversion, preparation, design (purpose), and assent. What, then, makes the soul filthy and impure in these actions? Nothing but its own bad judgments (κρίματα). So the soul's impurity consists in its bad opinions. Purifying the soul means planting proper opinions in it. A soul with proper opinions is pure, for the soul alone is free from disturbance and pollution in its own actions."

Epictetus says (iv. c. 7) that man is not "flesh nor bones nor sinews (νεύρα), but he is that which makes use of these parts of the body and governs them and follows (understands) the appearances of things." This opinion seems to be the same or nearly the same as Bp. Butler's (iv. c. 7, note 10). If then Epictetus had any distinct notion of the soul, and he is a man whose notions are generally distinct, I think that his opinion of man's body and of man's soul are, that a man's body is not the man, but the body is that "finely tempered clay" in which the man dwells, and without the body he could not live this earthly life and his notion of the soul is that which is stated above (iv. c. 11 and c. 7). As to the mode and nature of this connexion between the body and the soul, I can only suppose that he would have disclaimed all knowledge of it, as he does of the nature of perception (p. 82); and I do not suppose that any philosopher or theologian would venture to say what this connexion of soul and body is. In the life then which man lives on the earth I think that the opinions of Epictetus are the same or nearly the same as those of Swedenborg; but after the event, which comes to all men, and which we name Death, the opinions are very different.

Epictetus says (iv. c. 7) that a person is not "flesh nor bones nor sinews (νεύρα), but he is that which makes use of these parts of the body and governs them and follows (understands) the appearances of things." This view seems the same as, or nearly the same as, Bishop Butler's (iv. c. 7, note 10). Epictetus's ideas are generally clear. If he had a clear idea of the soul, I think his view of body and soul was this: a person's body is not the person. Rather, the body is the "finely tempered clay" in which the person lives. Without the body, a person could not live this earthly life. His idea of the soul is the one stated above (iv. c. 11 and c. 7). As for how the body and soul are connected and what that connection is, I can only suppose that he would have claimed no knowledge of it. He makes no claim to know the nature of perception (p. 82). And I do not suppose any philosopher or theologian would venture to say what the connection between soul and body is. So I think Epictetus's views on human life on earth are the same as, or nearly the same as, Swedenborg's. But their views differ greatly about what happens after the event that comes to everyone and that we call Death.

And what is Death? (p. 230 in the chapter on Solitude). It is a going "to the place from which you came, to your friends and kinsmen, to the elements: what there was in you of fire goes to fire, of earth to earth; of air (spirit) to air; of water to water: no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Cocytus, nor Pyriphlegethon, but all is full of Gods and Daemons." He says (p. 282): "death is a greater change, not from the state which now is to that which is not, but to that which is not now. Shall I then no longer exist? You will not exist, but you will be something else, of which the world now has need: for you also came into existence not when you chose, but when the world had need of you." Death is the resolution of the matter of the body into the things out of which it is composed (p. 347). This is distinct and intelligible. Of the soul, which, as we have seen, he considers to be in some way different from the body during life, he does not speak so distinctly. I think that he means, if he means any thing, something like what I have said in p. 347, note 4.

And what is death? In the chapter on Solitude (p. 230), Epictetus says it is a journey “to the place you came from, to your friends and family, to the elements. The fire in you goes to fire, the earth to earth, the air (spirit) to air, and the water to water. There is no Hades, Acheron, Cocytus, or Pyriphlegethon. Instead, everything is full of Gods and Daemons.” He says (p. 282): “Death is a greater change. It is not a change from what exists now to what does not exist, but to what does not exist now. Will I no longer exist, then? You will not exist, but you will be something else that the world now needs. For you came into existence not when you chose, but when the world needed you.” Death is the breaking down of the body into the things it is made of (p. 347). This is clear and understandable. But he speaks less clearly about the soul. As we have seen, he considers the soul to be somehow different from the body during life. I think he means something like what I have said on p. 347, note 4, if he means anything at all.

The philosopher, who appears to have no belief in a future existence, as it is generally understood, teaches that we ought to live such a life in all our thoughts and in all our acts as a Christian would teach. He says (p. 285), "Then in the place of all other delights substitute this, that of being conscious that you are obeying God, that not in word, but in deed you are performing the acts of a wise and good man." He looks for no reward for doing what he ought to do. The virtuous man has his reward in his own acts. If he lives conformably to nature, he will do what is best in this short life, and will obtain all the hap- piness which he can obtain in no other way.

The philosopher appears not to believe in life after death, as it is generally understood. Yet he teaches that we should live, in all our thoughts and actions, as a Christian would teach us to live. He says (p. 285), "So, in place of all other pleasures, take pleasure in knowing that you are obeying God. Take pleasure in knowing that you are acting like a wise and good person, not merely talking like one." He expects no reward for doing what he ought to do. A virtuous person finds his reward in his own actions. If he lives according to nature, he will do what is best in this short life. He will also find all the happiness he cannot find in any other way.

He says (p. 310): "Who are you and for what purpose did you come into the world? Did not God introduce you here, did he not show you the light, did he not give you fellow workers, and perception 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"?

He says (p. 310): "Who are you, and why did you come into the world? Didn't God bring you here and show you the light? Didn't he give you fellow workers, perception, and reason? And what kind of being did he bring here? Didn't he bring you here as a mortal, to live on earth in a little flesh? Didn't he bring you here to observe how he governs and join him at the spectacle and festival for a short time? So, after watching the spectacle and ceremony for as long as you were allowed, will you not go when he leads you out? Will you not go worshipping him and thanking him for what you have heard and seen?"

Perhaps we may say that the conclusion of Epictetus about the soul after the separation from the body is equivalent to a declaration that he knew nothing about it; as he disclaims sometimes the knowledge of other things. We cannot assume that in the books which are lost he expressed any opinions which are inconsistent with those contained in the books which exist. He must have known the opinion of Socrates about the immortality of the soul, or the opinion attributed to Socrates; but he has not said that he assents to it, nor does he express dissent from it. Bp. Butler in his Analogy of Religion Natural and Revealed (Part I. Of Natural Religion, Chap. I. of a Future Life) has examined the question of a Future Life with his usual modesty, good sense and sagacity. The inquiry is very difficult. He says at the end of the chapter: "The credibility of a future life, which has been here insisted on, how little soever it may satisfy our curiosity, seems to answer all the purposes of religion, in like manner as a demonstrative proof would. Indeed, a proof, even a demonstrative one, of a future life, would not be a proof of religion. For, that we are to live hereafter, is just as reconcileable with the scheme of atheism, and as well to be accounted for by it, as that we are now alive is; and therefore nothing can be more absurd than to argue from that scheme that there can be no future state. But as religion implies a future state, any presumption against such a state is a presumption against religion."

Perhaps we may say that Epictetus concluded he knew nothing about the soul after it separates from the body. At times, he also admits that he lacks knowledge of other things. We cannot assume that his lost books expressed opinions inconsistent with those in the surviving books. He must have known Socrates' opinion about the immortality of the soul, or the opinion attributed to Socrates. But he does not say whether he agrees or disagrees with it. Bishop Butler examined the question of a future life with his usual modesty, good sense, and insight. He did so in his Analogy of Religion Natural and Revealed (Part I. Of Natural Religion, Chapter I. Of a Future Life). The question is very difficult. At the end of the chapter, he says: "The credibility of a future life has been stressed here. However little it may satisfy our curiosity, it seems to serve all the purposes of religion, just as a conclusive proof would. Indeed, even a conclusive proof of a future life would not prove religion. For our living hereafter is just as compatible with atheism as our being alive now. Atheism can explain a future life just as well as it can explain our present life. So nothing could be more absurd than to argue from atheism that there can be no future state. But religion implies a future state. So any reason to doubt a future state is a reason to doubt religion."

I conclude that Epictetus, who was a religious man, and who believed in the existence of God and his administration of all things, did not deny a future life; nor does he say that he believes it. I conclude that he did not understand it; that it was beyond his conception, as the nature of God also was. His great merit as a teacher is that he "attempted to show that there is in man's nature and in the constitution of things sufficient reason for living a virtuous life."¹² He knew well what man's nature is, and he endeavoured to teach us how we can secure happiness in this life as far as we are capable of attaining it.

I conclude that Epictetus did not deny a future life, but neither did he say that he believed in one. He was a religious man who believed that God exists and governs all things. I conclude that he did not understand a future life. It was beyond his understanding, as was the nature of God. His great merit as a teacher is that he "attempted to show that there is in man's nature and in the constitution of things sufficient reason for living a virtuous life."¹² He knew human nature well. He tried to teach us how to find as much happiness in this life as we are capable of attaining.

More might be said; but this is enough. I will only add that the Stoics have been charged with arrogance; and the charge is just. Epictetus himself has been blamed for it even by modern theologians, who are not always free from this fault themselves. If there is any arrogance or apparent arrogance in Epictetus, he did not teach it, for he has especially warned us against this fault, as the reader will see in several passages.

More could be said, but this is enough. I will only add that the Stoics have been accused of arrogance, and the accusation is justified. Even modern theologians have blamed Epictetus himself for arrogance. They are not always free from this fault themselves. If Epictetus was arrogant, or seemed arrogant, he did not teach arrogance. In fact, he specifically warned us against it, as the reader will see in several passages.