1. To some it may perchance seem a paradox, this axiom of the philosophers; yet let us make the best inquiry we can if it be true that it is possible to do all things at once with fearfulness and with boldness. For fearfulness seemeth in a manner contrary to boldness, and contraries can never co-exist. But that which to many seemeth a paradox in this matter seems to me to stand somehow thus: If we affirmed that both fearfulness and boldness could be used in the very same things, they would justly accuse us that we were reconciling what is irreconcilable. But now, what is there so strange in this saying? For if it is sound, what hath been so often both affirmed and demonstrated, that the essence of the Good is in the use of appearances, and even so of the Evil, and things uncontrollable by the Will have the nature neither of good nor of evil, what paradox do the philosophers affirm if they say that in things uncontrollable by the Will, then be boldness thy part, and in things subject to the Will, fearfulness. For if Evil lie in an evil Will, then in these things alone is it right to use fearfulness. And if things uncontrollable by the Will, and that are not in our power, are nothing to us, then in these things we should use boldness. And thus shall we be at one time both fearful and bold—yea, and bold even through our fearfulness. For through being fearful in things that are veritably evil it comes that we shall be bold in those that are not so.
1. Some may find this principle of the philosophers a paradox. Yet let us examine as carefully as we can whether we can do all things with both caution and courage. Caution seems, in a way, the opposite of courage, and opposites can never coexist. But what seems a paradox to many appears to me to work like this. Suppose we claimed that caution and courage could both apply to the very same things. People would rightly accuse us of trying to reconcile what cannot be reconciled. But as things stand, what is so strange about this saying? We have often stated and demonstrated that good lies in how we use our impressions, and so does evil. Things outside the control of our will are neither good nor evil. If this is true, what paradox is there in what the philosophers say? They tell us to be courageous about things outside our will’s control, and cautious about things within it. For if evil lies in an evil will, then only in these matters is caution right. And if things outside our will’s control and beyond our power are nothing to us, we should face them courageously. In this way, we can be both cautious and courageous at once. Indeed, our caution can make us courageous. For caution about things that are truly evil makes us courageous about things that are not.
2. But we, on the contrary, fall victims as deer do. When these are terrified and fly from the scares, whither do they turn and to what do they retreat as a refuge? To the nets: and thus they perish, confusing things to fear and things to be bold about. And thus do we also. Where do we employ fear? In things beyond our Will. And wherein do we act boldly, as were there nothing to dread? In things subject to the Will. To be beguiled, then, or to be rash, or to do some shameless act, or with base greed to pursue some object—these things concern us no whit if we may only hit the mark in things beyond the Will. But where death is, or exile, or suffering, or evil repute, there we run away, there we are scared. Therefore, as it were to be looked for in those who are astray in the things of greatest moment, we work out our natural boldness into swaggering, abandonment, rashness, shamelessness; and our natural fearfulness and shamefastness into cowardice and meanness, full of terror and trouble. For if one should transfer his fearfulness to the realm of the Will, and the works thereof, straightway, together with the intention of fearing to do wrong, he shall have it in his power to avoid doing it; but if he use it in things out of our own power and beyond the Will, then striving to avoid things that are in others’ power, he shall of necessity be terrified and unsettled and troubled. For death is not fearful, nor pain, but the fear of pain or death. And thus we praise him who said:
2. But we, on the contrary, fall victim just as deer do. When deer are frightened and flee from things meant to scare them, where do they seek refuge? In the nets. And so they die, confusing what they should fear with what they can safely face. We do the same. Where do we direct our fear? Toward things beyond our will. And where do we act boldly, as though there were nothing to fear? In things within our will. Being deceived, acting rashly, doing something shameful, or pursuing something with base greed does not trouble us at all. We care only about getting what we want in things beyond our will. But when we face death, exile, suffering, or a bad reputation, we run away in fear. This is what we should expect from people mistaken about the things that matter most. We turn our natural boldness into swagger, recklessness, rashness, and shamelessness. We turn our natural caution and sense of shame into cowardice and pettiness, full of terror and distress. If someone directed his fear toward his own will and its actions, the result would be immediate. Along with his resolve to fear doing wrong, he would have the power to avoid doing it. But suppose he directs his fear toward things outside his control and beyond his will. He then tries to avoid things controlled by others, and must inevitably be frightened, unsettled, and distressed. For neither death nor pain is fearful, but the fear of pain or death is. And so we praise the man who said:
Euripides. Musonius Rufus, the teacher of Epictetus, is reported to have said, “Take the chance of dying nobly when thou canst, lest after a little death indeed come to thee, but a noble death no more.”
“Fear not to die, but fear a coward’s death.”
“Don’t fear dying, but fear dying like a coward.”
3. It is right, then, that we should turn our boldness against death, and our fearfulness against the fear of death. But now we do the contrary: death we flee from, but as to the state of our opinion about death we are negligent, heedless, indifferent. These things Socrates did well to call bugbears. For as to children, through their inexperience, ugly masks appear terrible and fearful; so we are somewhat in the same way moved towards the affairs of life, for no other cause than as children are affected by these bugbears. For what is a child? Ignorance. What is a child? That which has never learned. For when he knows these things he is nowise inferior to us. What is death? A bugbear. Turn it round; examine it: see, it does not bite. Now or later that which is body must be parted from that which is spirit, as formerly it was parted. Why, then, hast thou indignation if it be now? for if it be not now, it will be later. And wherefore? That the cycle of the world may be fulfilled; for it hath need of a present and of a future and of a past. What is pain? A bugbear. Turn it about and examine it. This poor body is moved harshly, then again softly. If thou hast no advantage thereof, the door is open; if thou hast, then bear it. For in all events it is right that the door should stand open, and so have we no distress.
3. We should be bold in facing death and fearful of the fear of death. But now we do the opposite. We run from death, yet neglect our beliefs about it, giving them no care or attention. Socrates was right to call these things imaginary terrors. Ugly masks seem terrifying to children because they lack experience. In much the same way, we are troubled by life's events, for no other reason than children fear these masks. For what is a child? Ignorance. What is a child? Someone who has not yet learned. Once a child understands these things, they are in no way inferior to us. What is death? An imaginary terror. Turn it around and examine it. Look, it does not bite. Now or later, the body must be separated from the spirit, just as it was separate before. Why, then, are you angry if it happens now? If not now, it will happen later. And why? So that the world's cycle may be completed. It needs a present, a future, and a past. What is pain? An imaginary terror. Turn it around and examine it. This poor body is treated roughly, then gently again. If staying brings you no benefit, the door is open. If it does, then bear the pain. In every case, the door should remain open, and so we need not be distressed.
The phrase “open door” appears often in Epictetus, usually when he addresses ordinary people who are not philosophers, as here. He tells them it is unmanly to complain about a life they can end at any time. The philosopher needs no such urging, since he does not complain and is content to await God’s time for death. But the Stoics taught that disaster or suffering could signal this time by making a natural, healthy life impossible. In such cases, suicide was permissible. Several Stoic leaders are recorded as having ended their lives, generally when old age began making them burdens to friends.
4. Shall I, then, exist no longer? Nay, thou shalt exist, but as something else, whereof the universe hath now need. For neither didst thou choose thine own time to come into existence, but when the universe had need of thee.
4. Will I, then, no longer exist? No, you will exist, but as something else that the universe now needs. For you did not choose when to come into existence. You came when the universe needed you.
Nay, thou shalt exist, etc. This meaning follows Zeller’s punctuation. Schweighäuser’s text would read, “Thou shalt not exist, but something else will,” etc. Upton changes the text on his own authority by moving an οὐκ. “Thou shalt exist, but as something else, whereof the universe has now no need.”
5. What, then, is the fruit of these opinions? That which ought to be the fairest and comeliest to those who have been truly taught,—tranquillity, courage, and freedom. For concerning these things, the multitude are not to be believed which say that those only should be taught who are freemen, but the philosophers rather, which say that those only are free who have been taught. How is this? It is thus—Is freedom anything else than the power to live as we choose? Nothing else. Do ye choose, then, to live in sin? We do not choose it. None, therefore, that fears or grieves or is anxious is free; but whosoever is released from griefs and fears and anxieties is by that very thing released from slavery. How, then, shall we still believe you, most excellent legislators, when ye say, “We permit none to be taught, save freemen?” for the philosophers say, “We permit none to be free save those who have been taught”—that is, God permits it not. So, when a man turns round his slave before the Prætor, has he done nothing? He has done something. And what? He has turned round his slave before the Prætor. Nothing else at all? Yea, this too—he must pay for him the tax of the twentieth. What then? has the man thus treated not gained his freedom? No more than he has gained tranquillity of mind. For thou, who art able to emancipate others, hast thou no master? is money not thy master, or lust, or a tyrant, or some friend of a tyrant? Why, then, dost thou tremble when thou art to meet with some affliction in this kind? And therefore I say oftentimes, be these things your study, be these things ever at your hand, wherein ye should be bold and wherein fearful; bold in things beyond the Will, fearful in things subject to the Will.
5. What, then, comes from these beliefs? What should seem most beautiful and fitting to those who have been truly taught: peace of mind, courage, and freedom. We should not believe the majority, who say that only free people should be taught. Instead, believe the philosophers, who say that only those who have been taught are free. How is this so? Consider this. Is freedom anything other than the power to live as we choose? Nothing else. Do you choose, then, to live wrongly? We do not. So no one who feels fear, grief, or anxiety is free. Whoever is freed from grief, fear, and anxiety is, by that very fact, freed from slavery. How, then, can we still believe you, most excellent lawmakers, when you say, “We allow only free people to be taught”? The philosophers say, “We allow only those who have been taught to be free.” That is, God does not allow it. So, when a man turns his slave around before the praetor, has he done nothing? He has done something. What has he done? He has turned his slave around before the praetor. Nothing else at all? Yes, this too: he must pay the five-percent tax for him. What then? Has the man treated this way not gained his freedom? No more than he has gained peace of mind. You who can free others, do you have no master yourself? Is money not your master, or lust, or a tyrant, or some friend of a tyrant? Why, then, do you tremble when you face trouble from any of these? That is why I often say: study these things and always keep them at hand. Know where you should be bold and where you should be afraid. Be bold about things outside your will, and fearful about things subject to your will.
This does not seem to have been the law in Epictetus’s time. He himself was educated while enslaved. But such a rule was common in ancient states.
The ceremony for freeing a slave.