1. The appearances by which the mind of man is smitten with the first aspect of a thing as it approaches the soul, are not matters of the will, nor can we control them; but by a certain force of their own the objects which we have to comprehend are borne in upon us. But that ratification of them, which we name assent, whereby the appearances are comprehended and judged, these are voluntary, and are done by human choice. Wherefore at a sound from the heavens, or from the downfall of something, or some signal of danger, or anything else of this kind, it must needs be that the soul of the philosopher too shall be somewhat moved, and he shall shrink and grow pale; not through any opinion of evil that he has formed, but through certain rapid and unconsidered motions that forestall the office of the mind and reason. Soon, however, that philosopher doth not approve the appearances to be truly objects of terror to his soul, that is to say, he assents not to them nor ratifies them; but he rejects them, and casts them out; nor doth there seem to be in them anything that he should fear. But in this, say the philosophers, doth the wise man differ from the fool,—that the fool thinks the appearances to be in truth even so harsh and rough as they seemed at their first shock upon the soul; and taking them, as at first, to be rightly dreaded, he thus ratifies and approves them by his assent. The philosopher, however, though for a short time his color and countenance have been changed, doth not then assent, but he retains in its steadfastness and vigor the opinion he ever had of these appearances, that they are in no wise to be feared, but affright only by a false show and empty threat.
1. The impressions that first strike the mind when something reaches our awareness are not voluntary. We cannot control them. Instead, the things we must understand force themselves upon us through a power of their own. But accepting these impressions, which we call assent, is voluntary. Through assent, we interpret and judge our impressions. This happens by our own choice. So a crash of thunder, something falling, a sign of danger, or anything similar must stir even a philosopher’s soul. He will flinch and grow pale. This is not because he has judged something to be bad. It comes from quick, unthinking reactions that occur before the mind and reason can act. Soon, however, the philosopher refuses to accept these impressions as truly terrifying. That is, he neither assents to them nor confirms them. Instead, he rejects them and casts them out. He sees nothing in them that he should fear. Here, the philosophers say, is the difference between the wise person and the fool. The fool believes these impressions really are as harsh and disturbing as they first seemed when they struck his soul. He continues to regard them as rightly feared, just as he did at first. By assenting to them, he confirms and accepts them. The philosopher, however, does not assent, even though his color and expression have briefly changed. He firmly maintains his long-held judgment of these impressions. They are not to be feared at all. They frighten us only through a deceptive appearance and an empty threat.
Chap. VI. i. is a passage from the lost Fifth Book of the Discourses. Aulus Gellius preserved it in a rather obscure Latin translation. During a storm at sea, Gellius noticed a Stoic on board looking pale and anxious. Still, the Stoic did not show the signs of panic seen in the other passengers. Afterwards, Gellius questioned him about this apparent weakness in his commitment to his stated beliefs. The Stoic produced the Fifth Book of Epictetus and read this passage.
2. Such as is a dish of water, such is the soul; such as is the ray of light that falleth on the same, such are the appearances. When the water is moved, then the ray seemeth also to be moved; but it is not moved. And thus when a man’s mind is darkened and dizzy, it is not doctrines and virtues that are confounded, but the spirit on which they are impressed. And if that is restored, so are they.
2. The soul is like a dish of water. The impressions it receives are like a ray of light falling on the water. When the water moves, the ray seems to move too, but it does not. Likewise, when a person’s mind becomes clouded and confused, the teachings and virtues are not themselves disturbed. It is the spirit on which they are imprinted that is disturbed. When the spirit is restored, so are they.
The third Earl of Shaftesbury was an enthusiastic student of Epictetus. He had this dish of water and ray of light engraved as an emblem at the front of his Characteristics. It bore the inscription πάντα ὑπόληψις, “All is Opinion.” The passage is interesting but unclear. At one point, the “appearances,” φαντασίαι, are compared to the ray of light. At another, the doctrines and virtues are compared to it. “Doctrines” literally means “arts,” meaning the arts of life taught by philosophy. The explanation probably lies in the Stoic view that the human soul at birth is a tabula rasa, or blank sheet. In this view, all our knowledge comes from outside us, from the “appearances” surrounding us. Moral and philosophical convictions, like all other mental states, therefore result from external impressions.