The Cynic

Chapter 8

The Cynic

20 min

1. One of his pupils, who seemed to be drawn towards the way of Cynicism, inquired of Epictetus what manner of man the Cynic ought to be, and what was the natural conception of the thing. And Epictetus said: Let us look into it at leisure. But so much I have now to say to you, that whosoever shall without God attempt so great a matter stirreth up the wrath of God against him, and desireth only to behave himself unseemly before the people. For in no well-ordered house doth one come in and say to himself: I should be the steward of the house, else, when the lord of the house shall have observed it, and seeth him insolently giving orders, he will drag him forth and chastise him. So it is also, in this great city of the universe, for here too there is a master of the house who ordereth each and all: Thou art the Sun; thy power is to travel round and to make the year and the seasons, and to increase and nourish fruits, and to stir the winds and still them, and temperately to warm the bodies of men. Go forth, run thy course, and minister thus to the greatest things and to the least. Thou art a calf; when a lion shall appear, do what befits thee, or it shall be worse for thee. Thou art a bull; come forth and fight, for this is thy part and pride, and this thou canst. Thou art able to lead the army against Ilion; be Agamemnon. Thou canst fight in single combat with Hector; be Achilles. But if Thersites came forth and pretended to the authority, then either he would not gain it, or, gaining it, he would have been shamed before many witnesses.

1. One of his pupils seemed drawn to the Cynic way of life. He asked Epictetus what kind of person a Cynic should be, and what the role essentially meant. Epictetus said: Let us take our time and examine it. But I can tell you this now. Anyone who attempts so great a task without God brings God’s anger upon himself. He wants only to make a disgraceful spectacle of himself before the people. In a well-run household, no one comes in and says to himself: I should be the household manager. Otherwise, the master will notice him arrogantly giving orders, drag him out, and punish him. The same is true in this great city, the universe. Here too, there is a master of the house who assigns a role to each and all: You are the Sun. Your power is to travel around, bring about the year and its seasons, and make fruit grow and ripen. You stir the winds and calm them, and warm human bodies gently. Go out, follow your course, and serve both the greatest things and the smallest in this way. You are a calf. When a lion appears, do what suits your nature, or you will suffer for it. You are a bull. Come forward and fight, for this is your role and your pride, and you can do it. You can lead the army against Ilion, so be Agamemnon. You can fight Hector in single combat, so be Achilles. But suppose Thersites came forward and claimed that authority. Either he would fail to gain it or, having gained it, he would be disgraced before many witnesses.

Antisthenes founded the Cynic school. He taught at the Cynosarges, a gymnasium in Athens, which gave the school its name. Zeller sees this striking chapter as presenting Epictetus’s “philosophisches Ideal.” He views the Cynic as the “wahrer Philosoph,” or perfect Stoic. (Phil. d. Gr. iii. S. 752.) This seems to me no truer than calling the missionary or monk the ideal Christian. Epictetus carefully explains that the Cynic is a Stoic with a distinct, special calling. By no means all Stoics are called to this life. The Cynic resembles Thoreau, that modern Stoic, when he went to live at Walden. He practices extreme self-denial to show that people have inner resources sufficient to face whatever fate their circumstances impose.

2. And about this affair, do thou take thought upon it earnestly, for it is not such as it seemeth to thee. I wear a rough cloak now, and I shall wear it then; I sleep hard now, and I shall sleep so then. I will take to myself a wallet and staff, and I will begin to go about and beg, and to reprove every one I meet with; and if I shall see one that plucks out his hairs, I will censure him, or one that hath his hair curled, or that goes in purple raiment. If thou conceivest the matter on this wise, far be it from thee—go not near it, it is not for thee. But if thou conceivest of it as it is, and holdest thyself not unworthy of it, then behold to how great an enterprise thou art putting forth thine hand.

2. Think seriously about this matter, because it is not what it seems to you. I wear a rough cloak now, and I will wear one then. I sleep on a hard bed now, and I will do so then. I will get myself a beggar’s bag and a staff. I will start going around begging and rebuking everyone I meet. If I see someone plucking out his body hair, I will criticize him. I will do the same to anyone with curled hair or purple clothes. If this is how you understand it, stay far away. Do not go near it. It is not for you. But if you understand it as it really is, and consider yourself worthy of it, look at what you are undertaking. See how great a task you are taking on.

τριβώνιον, a coarse garment especially favored by the Cynics and also worn by early Christian ascetics.

3. First, in things that concern thyself, thou must appear in nothing like unto what thou now doest. Thou must not accuse God nor man; thou must utterly give over pursuit, and avoid only those things that are in the power of thy will; anger is not meet for thee, nor resentment, nor envy, nor pity; nor must a girl appear to thee fair, nor must reputation, nor a flat cake. For it must be understood that other men shelter themselves by walls and houses and by darkness when they do such things, and many means of concealment have they. One shutteth the door, placeth some one before the chamber; if any one should come, say, He is out, he is busy. But in place of all these things it behooves the Cynic to shelter himself behind his own piety and reverence; but if he doth not, he shall be put to shame, naked under the sky. This is his house, this his door, this the guards of his chamber, this his darkness. For he must not seek to hide aught that he doeth, else he is gone, the Cynic hath perished, the man who lived under the open sky, the freeman. He hath begun to fear something from without, he hath begun to need concealment; nor can he find it when he would, for where shall he hide himself, and how? And if by chance this tutor, this public teacher, should be found in guilt, what things must he not suffer! And fearing these things, can he yet take heart with his whole soul to guide the rest of mankind? That can he never: it is impossible!

3. First, in matters concerning yourself, your conduct must be nothing like it is now. You must not blame God or anyone else. You must give up all pursuit of what you desire and avoid only things within your will’s control. Anger, resentment, envy, and pity are not right for you. Nor must you find a girl attractive, or be drawn to reputation or a flat cake. You must understand that other people hide behind walls, houses, and darkness when they do such things. They have many ways to conceal themselves. Someone shuts the door and stations a person outside the room. If anyone comes, say, He is out, he is busy. But instead of all these protections, the Cynic must shelter behind his own piety and reverence. If he does not, he will be exposed to shame, naked under the sky. This is his house, his door, the guards outside his room, and his darkness. He must not try to hide anything he does. Otherwise, he is finished. The Cynic has perished, the free man who lived under the open sky. He has begun to fear something outside himself. He has begun to need concealment. Yet he cannot find it when he wants it, for where can he hide, and how? And if this guide, this public teacher, should happen to be caught doing wrong, what would he not suffer! While fearing these things, can he still find the wholehearted courage to guide the rest of humanity? He never can. It is impossible!

“Nor pity.” In a note on Diss. i. 18. 3. (Schw.), Upton points to several passages in Epictetus. These mention pity and envy together as though they were related emotions. He aptly quotes Virgil (Georg. ii. 499):

This cake seems like a ridiculous anticlimax. But whether an ascetic philosopher could enjoy this particular luxury (πλακοῦς) appears to have been hotly debated in antiquity. Upton cites Lucian and Diogenes Laertius for examples where this question was asked and answered yes. In one case, the answer came from Diogenes the Cynic. The young man in the text is addressed as a beginner who must not exercise an experienced philosopher’s freedom.

4. First, then, thou must purify thy ruling faculty and this vocation of thine also, saying: Now it is my mind I must shape, as the carpenter shapes wood and the shoemaker leather; and the thing to be formed is a right use of appearances. But nothing to me is the body, and nothing to me the parts of it. Death? Let it come when it will, either death of the whole or of a part. Flee it! And whither? Can any man cast me out of the universe? He cannot; but whithersoever I may go there will be the sun, and the moon, and there the stars, and visions, and omens, and communion with the Gods.

4. First, then, you must purify your mind and your calling too, saying: Now I must shape my mind. A carpenter shapes wood, and a shoemaker shapes leather. What I must develop is the right use of the impressions I receive. But my body is nothing to me, and neither are its parts. Death? Let it come whenever it will, whether it takes the whole body or a part. Run from it! But where? Can anyone cast me out of the universe? No one can. Wherever I go, there will be the sun, the moon, the stars, visions, omens, and communion with the Gods.

Upton quotes from Cymbeline:

5. And, furthermore, when he hath thus fashioned himself, he will not be content with these things, who is a Cynic indeed. But know that he is an herald from God to men, declaring to them the truth about good and evil things; that they have erred, and are seeking the reality of good and evil where it is not; and where it is, they do not consider; and he is a spy, like Diogenes, when he was led captive to Philip after the battle of Chæronea. For the Cynic is, in truth, a spy of the things that are friendly to men, and that are hostile; and having closely spied out all, he must come back and declare the truth. And he must neither be stricken with terror and report of enemies where none are; nor be in any otherwise confounded or troubled by the appearances.

5. Furthermore, a true Cynic will not be content with these things once he has shaped himself in this way. Know that he is a messenger from God to humanity, declaring the truth about good and evil. He tells people they are mistaken, seeking the reality of good and evil where it is not. Where it truly is, they do not look. He is also a scout, like Diogenes when he was taken captive to Philip after the battle of Chaeronea. For the Cynic truly scouts out what helps people and what harms them. After examining everything closely, he must return and report the truth. He must not give way to terror and report enemies where there are none. Nor must he be confused or troubled in any other way by how things appear.

Philip’s men arrested Diogenes and asked if he was a spy. He replied, “Certainly I am, O Philip; a spy of thine ill-counsel and folly, who for no necessity canst set thy life and kingdom on the chances of an hour.”

6. He must then be able, if so it chance, to go up impassioned, as on the tragic stage, and speak that word of Socrates, “O men, whither are ye borne away? What do ye? Miserable as ye are! like blind men ye wander up and down. Ye have left the true road, and are going by a false; ye are seeking peace and happiness where they are not, and if another shall show you where they are, ye believe him not. Wherefore will ye seek it in outward things? In the body? It is not there—and if ye believe me not, lo, Myro! lo, Ophellius. In possessions? It is not there, and if ye believe me not, lo, Crœsus! lo, the wealthy of our own day, how full of mourning is their life! In authority? It is not there, else should those be happy who have been twice or thrice consul; yet they are not. Whom shall we believe in this matter? You, who look but on these men from without, and are dazzled by the appearance, or the men themselves? And what say they? Hearken to them when they lament, when they groan, when by reason of those consulships, and their glory and renown, they hold their state the more full of misery and danger! In royalty? It is not there; else were Nero happy and Sardanapalus; but not Agamemnon himself was happy, more splendid though he was than Nero or Sardanapalus; but while the rest are snoring what is he doing?”

6. He must then be ready, if the occasion calls, to step forward passionately, like an actor on the tragic stage. He must speak those words of Socrates, “Men, where are you being swept away? What are you doing? How miserable you are! You wander back and forth like blind men. You have left the true road and taken a false one. You seek peace and happiness where they cannot be found. And if someone shows you where they are, you do not believe him. Why do you seek them in external things? In the body? They are not there. If you do not believe me, look at Myro! Look at Ophellius. In possessions? They are not there. If you do not believe me, look at Croesus! Look at the wealthy people of our own day. How full of sorrow their lives are! In political office? They are not there. Otherwise, those who have been consul two or three times would be happy. Yet they are not. Whom should we believe about this? You, who see these men only from the outside and are dazzled by appearances? Or the men themselves? And what do they say? Listen when they lament and groan. Their consulships, glory, and fame make them see their position as even more miserable and dangerous! In kingship? They are not there. Otherwise, Nero and Sardanapalus would be happy. But even Agamemnon was not happy, though he was more splendid than Nero or Sardanapalus. While everyone else is snoring, what is he doing?”

Upton guessed that these were gladiators famous for their physical strength. One might also suspect they were known for some extraordinary misfortune.

“He tore his rooted hair by handfuls out.”—Il. x.

“He tore his hair out by the roots, handfuls at a time.” Il. x.

And what saith himself? “I am distraught,” he saith, “and I am in anguish; my heart leaps forth from my bosom.”—[Il. x.] Miserable man! which of thy concerns hath gone wrong with thee? Thy wealth? Nay. Thy body? Nay; but thou art rich in gold and bronze. What ails thee then? That part, whatever it be, with which we pursue, with which we avoid, with which we desire and dislike, thou hast neglected and corrupted. How hath it been neglected? He hath been ignorant of the true Good for which it was born, and of the Evil; and of what is his own, and what is alien to him. And when it goeth ill with something that is alien to him, he saith, Woe is me, for the Greeks are in peril. O unhappy mind of thee! of all things alone neglected and untended. They will be slain by the Trojans and die! And if the Trojans slay them not, will they not still die? Yea, but not all together. What, then, doth it matter? for if it be an evil to die, it is alike evil to die together or to die one by one. Shall anything else happen to them than the parting of body and soul? Nothing. And when the Greeks have perished, is the door closed to thee? canst thou not also die? I can. Wherefore, then, dost thou lament: Woe is me, a king, and bearing the scepter of Zeus? There is no unfortunate king, as there is no unfortunate God. What, then, art thou? In very truth a shepherd; for thou lamentest even as shepherds do when a wolf hath snatched away one of the sheep; and sheep are they whom thou dost rule. And why art thou come hither? Was thy faculty of pursuit in any peril, or of avoidance, or thy desire or aversion? Nay, he saith, but my brother’s wife was carried away. Was it not a great gain to be rid of an adulterous wife? Shall we be, then, despised of the Trojans? Of the Trojan? Of what manner of men? of wise men or fools? If of wise men, why do ye make war with them? if of fools, why do ye heed them?

And what does he himself say? “I am distraught,” he says, “and I am in anguish. My heart leaps out of my chest.” [Il. x.] Miserable man! Which of your concerns has gone wrong? Your wealth? No. Your body? No, and you are rich in gold and bronze. What troubles you, then? You have neglected and corrupted that part of you, whatever it is, with which you pursue and avoid, desire and dislike. How has it been neglected? He has not understood the true Good it was born for, or what Evil is. Nor has he understood what belongs to him and what does not. When something that does not belong to him goes badly, he says, Woe is me, for the Greeks are in danger. Your unhappy mind! It alone, of all things, has been neglected and left without care. The Trojans will kill them, and they will die! And if the Trojans do not kill them, will they not still die? Yes, but not all together. What difference does that make? If dying is an evil, it is equally evil to die together or one by one. Will anything happen to them beyond the separation of body and soul? Nothing. And when the Greeks have perished, is the door closed to you? Can you not die too? I can. Why, then, do you lament, Woe is me, a king, carrying the scepter of Zeus? There is no unfortunate king, just as there is no unfortunate God. What are you, then? In truth, a shepherd. You lament just as shepherds do when a wolf has snatched away one of their sheep. And those you rule are sheep. And why have you come here? Was your ability to pursue or avoid anything in danger? Were your desires or aversions threatened? No, he says, but my brother’s wife was carried off. Was it not a great gain to be rid of an adulterous wife? Should we, then, be despised by the Trojans? By the Trojans? What kind of men are they, wise men or fools? If they are wise, why do you wage war against them? If they are fools, why do you care what they think?

Epictetus’s own words could have refuted this very crude view of the Trojan war. Wrongdoers should not be allowed their way just because they cannot harm our souls. The harm may lie in the cowardice or laziness that keeps us from punishing them.

7. In what, then, is the good, seeing that in these things it is not? Tell us, thou, my lord missionary and spy! It is there where ye deem it not, and where ye have no desire to seek it. For did ye desire, ye would have found it in yourselves, nor would ye wander to things without, nor pursue things alien, as if they were your own concerns. Turn to your own selves; understand the natural conceptions which ye possess. What kind of thing do ye take the Good to be? Peace? happiness? freedom? Come, then, do ye not naturally conceive it as great, as precious, and that cannot be harmed? What kind of material, then, will ye take to shape peace and freedom withal—that which is enslaved or in that which is free? That which is free. Have ye the flesh enslaved or free? We know not. Know ye not that it is the slave of fever, of gout, of ophthalmia, of dysentery, of tyranny, and fire, and steel, and everything that is mightier than itself? Yea, it is enslaved. How, then, can aught that is of the body be free? and how can that be great or precious which by nature is dead, mere earth or mud?

7. Where, then, is the good, if it is not in these things? Tell us, my lord, you messenger and spy! It is where you think it is not, and where you have no desire to look. If you wanted to find it, you would have found it within yourselves. You would not wander after external things or pursue things outside your control as if they were your own concerns. Turn to yourselves. Understand the ideas you naturally possess. What do you take the Good to be? Peace? Happiness? Freedom? Come, then, don't you naturally think of it as great, precious, and beyond harm? What material, then, will you use to build peace and freedom? Something enslaved, or something free? Something free. Is your body enslaved or free? We don't know. Don't you know it is a slave to fever, gout, eye disease, and dysentery? And to tyranny, fire, weapons, and everything stronger than itself? Yes, it is enslaved. How, then, can anything belonging to the body be free? And how can something be great or precious if it is by nature dead, mere earth or mud?

8. What then? have ye nothing that is free? It may be nothing. And who can compel you to assent to an appearance that is false? No man. And who can compel you not to assent to an appearance that is true? No man. Here, then, ye see that there is in you something that is by nature free. But which of you, except he lay hold of some appearance of the profitable, or of the becoming, can either pursue or avoid, or desire or dislike, or adapt or intend anything? No man. In these things, too, then, ye have something that is unhindered and free. This, miserable men, must ye perfect; this have a care to, in this seek for the Good.

8. What then? Is nothing in you free? Perhaps nothing. And who can force you to accept a false impression? No one. And who can force you to reject a true impression? No one. Here, then, you see that something in you is naturally free. But can any of you act without first seeing something as beneficial or right? Can you pursue or avoid, desire or dislike, prepare or plan anything without such an impression? No one can. In these things too, then, you have something unhindered and free. This, you miserable people, is what you must perfect. Take care of this. Seek the Good in this.

9. And how is it possible that one can live prosperously who hath nothing; a naked, homeless, hearthless, beggarly man, without servants, without a country? Lo, God hath sent you a man to show you in very deed that it is possible. Behold me, that I have neither country, nor house, nor possessions, nor servants; I sleep on the ground; nor is a wife mine, nor children, nor domicile, but only earth and heaven, and a single cloak. And what is lacking to me? do ever I grieve? do I fear? am I not free? When did any of you see me fail of my pursuit, or meet with what I had avoided? When did I blame God or man? When did I accuse any man? When did any of you see me of a sullen countenance? How do I meet those whom ye fear and marvel at? Do I not treat them as my slaves? Who that seeth me, but thinketh he beholdeth his king and his lord?

9. How can someone live well when he has nothing? When he is naked, homeless, without a hearth, reduced to begging, with no servants or country? Look, God has sent you a man to show you through his life that it is possible. Look at me. I have no country, no house, no possessions, and no servants. I sleep on the ground. I have no wife, no children, and no home, only earth and heaven and a single cloak. And what do I lack? Do I ever grieve? Am I afraid? Am I not free? When have any of you seen me fail to get what I sought? When have you seen me encounter what I tried to avoid? When have I blamed God or another person? When have I accused anyone? When have any of you seen me looking sullen? How do I deal with those you fear and admire? Do I not treat them as my slaves? Who sees me without thinking he is looking at his king and lord?

10. So these are the accents of the Cynic, this his character, this his design. Not so—but it is his bag, and his staff, and his great jaws; and to devour all that is given to him, or store it up, or to reprove out of season every one that he may meet, or to show off his shoulder.

10. So this is how the Cynic speaks, this is his character, and this is his purpose. But no, people think it is his bag, his staff, and his huge jaws. It is devouring all he is given, or storing it up. It is scolding everyone he meets at the wrong time, or showing off his shoulder.

By wearing his cloak carelessly, letting it hang half off. Nothing is finer or more characteristic of Epictetus than his angry contempt for his day’s fake Stoics.

11. Dost thou see how thou art about to take in hand so great a matter? Take first a mirror, look upon thy shoulders, mark well thy loins and thighs. Thou art about to enter thy name for the Olympic games, O man; no cold and paltry contest. Nor canst thou then be merely overcome and then depart; but first thou must be shamed in the sight of all the world; and not alone of the Athenians, or Lacedæmonians, or Nicopolitans. And then if thou hast too rashly entered upon the contest thou must be thrashed, and before being thrashed must suffer thirst and scorching heat, and swallow much dust.

11. Do you see how great a task you are about to undertake? First take a mirror. Look at your shoulders, and examine your lower back and thighs carefully. You are about to enter the Olympic Games, man. This is no trivial, halfhearted contest. You cannot simply lose and walk away. First you must face shame before the whole world, not just the Athenians, Spartans, or people of Nicopolis. Then, if you entered the contest too rashly, you must take a beating. And before that beating, you must endure thirst and scorching heat, and swallow plenty of dust.

12. Consider more closely, know thyself, question thy genius, attempt nothing without God; who, if He counsel thee, be sure that He wills thee either to be great or to be greatly plagued. For this very agreeable circumstance is linked with the calling of a Cynic; he must be flogged like an ass, and, being flogged, must love those who flog him, as though he were the father or brother of all mankind. Not so, but if one shall flog thee, stand in the midst and shriek out, O Cæsar, what things do I suffer in the Emperor’s peace! Let us take him before the pro-consul. But what is Cæsar to the Cynic? or what is a pro-consul? or what is any other than He that hath sent him hither, and whom he serveth, which is Zeus? Doth he call upon any other than God? Is he not persuaded, whatsoever things he may suffer, that he is being trained and exercised by God? Hercules, when he was exercised by Eurystheus, never deemed himself wretched; but fulfilled courageously all that was laid upon him. But he who shall cry out and bear it hard when he is being trained and exercised by Zeus, is he worthy to bear the scepter of Diogenes? Hear what Diogenes saith, when ill of a fever, to the bystanders: Base souls, will ye not remain? To see the overthrow and combat of athletes, how great a way ye journey to Olympia; and have ye no will to see a combat between a fever and a man? And will such an one presently accuse God who hath sent him, as having used him ill—he who was glorying in his lot, and held himself worthy to be a spectacle to the bystanders? For of what shall he accuse Him: that his life is seemly, that he manifests God’s will, that he showeth forth his virtue more brightly? Come, then; and what saith he about death, about pain? How did he compare his own happiness with that of the Great King? nay, he thought rather that there was no comparison. For where there are confusions, and griefs, and fears, and unattained pursuits, and avoidance in vain, and envy and rivalry, can the way to happiness lie there? But where rotten opinions are there must of necessity be all these things.

12. Think more carefully. Know yourself, consult your guiding spirit, and attempt nothing without God. If he advises you, be sure he intends you either for greatness or for great suffering. For this very pleasant circumstance comes with the Cynic’s calling. He must be beaten like a donkey. And while being beaten, he must love those who beat him, as everyone’s father or brother would. But no, if someone beats you, you stand in public and scream, O Caesar, what I suffer under the Emperor’s peace! Let us bring him before the proconsul. But what does Caesar mean to the Cynic? Or a proconsul? Or anyone except the one who sent him here and whom he serves, Zeus? Does he call on anyone but God? Whatever he suffers, isn’t he convinced that God is training and testing him? When Eurystheus put Hercules through trials, Hercules never considered himself miserable. Instead, he courageously carried out everything demanded of him. But suppose someone cries out and resents it when Zeus trains and tests him. Is he worthy to carry the scepter of Diogenes? Listen to what Diogenes says to those around him when he is sick with a fever: You worthless souls, won’t you stay? You travel so far to Olympia to watch athletes fight and fall. Have you no wish to watch a contest between a fever and a man? Would such a man then accuse God, who sent him, of treating him badly? Would a man who took pride in his fate and considered himself worth watching do that? What could he accuse God of? That he lives honorably? That he reveals God’s will? That he displays his virtue more brilliantly? Come, then, what does he say about death and pain? How did he compare his own happiness with the Great King’s? In fact, he thought there was no comparison. Can the path to happiness lie where there is confusion, grief, and fear? Where people fail to get what they seek and cannot escape what they avoid? Where there is envy and rivalry? But wherever beliefs are corrupt, all these things must necessarily follow.

ἀνάκρινον τὸ δαιμόνιον. This clearly refers to the divine spirit that Socrates felt guided him.

13. And the young man having asked whether one that hath fallen ill shall obey, if a friend desire that he will go home with him and be tended: Where, he said, will you show me the friend of a Cynic? For he himself must be even such another, so as to be worthy to be reckoned his friend. A sharer in the scepter and the royalty must he be, and a worthy servant, if he will be worthy of his friendship, as Diogenes was of Antisthenes and Crates of Diogenes. Or seems it so to thee that whosoever shall come to him and bid him hail is his friend? and that he will think him worthy that a Cynic shall go to his house? Thus if it please thee to be a Cynic, bethink thee rather of such a thing as this, and cast about for a dainty dungheap whereon to have thy fever; and see that it look away from the north, so that thou be not chilled. But thou seemest to me to wish to retreat into somebody’s house and spend thy time there, and be fed. What hast thou to do with undertaking so great a matter?

13. The young man asked whether a Cynic who fell ill should accept a friend’s offer of care at his home. Where, he replied, will you find me a friend of a Cynic? He must himself be another Cynic to deserve to be called his friend. He must share in the scepter and royal power, and be a worthy servant, to deserve his friendship. Such was Diogenes to Antisthenes, and Crates to Diogenes. Or do you think that anyone who comes up and greets him is his friend? Do you think he would consider that person worthy of having a Cynic come to his house? So if you want to be a Cynic, think instead about something like this. Look around for a nice dungheap where you can lie with your fever. Make sure it faces away from the north, so you do not get chilled. But you seem to want to retreat into someone’s house, stay there, and be fed. What business have you taking on so great a task?

14. But marriage, said he, and the begetting of children,—are these to be received by the Cynic among his chief purposes?

14. But marriage, he said, and having children, should these be among the Cynic’s main goals?

Give me, said Epictetus, a city of wise men, and perhaps no one will easily come to the Cynic way: for whose sake should he embrace it? However, if we do suppose such a thing, there is nothing to hinder his marrying and begetting children; for his wife will be even such another, and his father-in-law such another, and thus will his children be brought up. But things being as they now are, as it were in order of battle, must not the Cynic be given wholly and undistracted to the service of God, being able to go about among men, and not bound to private duties, nor entangled in ties which, if he transgress, he can no longer preserve the aspect of honesty and goodness; and if he obey them, he hath lost that of the missionary, the spy, the herald of the Gods? For see! he must needs observe a certain conduct towards his father-in-law, and he hath somewhat to render also to the rest of his wife’s kin and to his wife herself. And for the rest, he is shut off from Cynicism by the care for sickness, or means of livelihood. For one thing alone, he must have a vessel for warming water for his little child, where he may wash it in the bath; and wool for his wife when she has been delivered, and oil, and a couch, and a drinking cup—already a number of utensils—and other affairs and distractions. Where shall I thenceforth find that king, whose business is the common weal?

Give me, said Epictetus, a city of wise people, and perhaps no one will readily adopt the Cynic way. For whose sake would he embrace it? Still, if we imagine such a city, nothing prevents him from marrying and having children. His wife will be wise too, as will his father-in-law, and his children will be raised among wise people. But things are as they are now, as though we were drawn up for battle. Must not the Cynic devote himself entirely, without distraction, to serving God? He must be free to travel among people, without being bound by private duties or entangled in family obligations. If he neglects those obligations, he can no longer maintain his character as an honest and good man. If he fulfills them, he loses his role as missionary, scout, and herald of the gods. Look! He must behave in a certain way toward his father-in-law. He also owes duties to his wife’s other relatives and to his wife herself. Besides, caring for the sick or earning a living keeps him from practicing Cynicism. For just one example, he must have a pot to warm water for bathing his little child. He also needs wool for his wife after childbirth, oil, a bed, and a drinking cup. Already there are several household items, along with other concerns and distractions. Where, then, will I find that king whose task is to serve the common good?

“Warden of men, and with so many cares.” Il. ii. 25.

“Guardian of men, with so many worries.” Il. ii. 25.

on whom it lies to oversee all men, the married, and parents, and who useth his wife well, and who ill, and who wrangles, and what household is well-ordered, and what not; going about as a physician, and feeling pulses—“thou hast a fever, thou a headache, thou the gout; do thou fast, do thou eat, do thou avoid the bath, thou needest the knife, thou the cautery?” Where is the place for leisure to one who is bound to private duties? Must he not provide raiment for his children? yea, and send them to the schoolmaster with their tablets and writing instruments? and have a bed ready for them, since a man cannot be a Cynic from the womb? Else were it better to cast them away at once than kill them in this way. See, now, to what we have brought our Cynic—how we have taken away his kingship from him! True, but Crates married. Thou speakest of a circumstance that arose from love, and adducest a wife who was another Crates. But our inquiry is concerning common marriages, and how men may be undistracted; and thus inquiring, we do not find it, in this condition of the world, a purpose of chief concern for a Cynic.

He must watch over all people, including married people and parents. He must see who treats his wife well or badly, who quarrels, and which households are well managed. He goes around like a doctor, checking pulses. “You have a fever, you a headache, you gout. You must fast, you must eat, you must avoid bathing. You need surgery, you need cauterization.” What time is left for this work if he is tied to private duties? Must he not provide clothes for his children? Yes, and send them to a teacher with their writing tablets and tools? Must he not have beds ready for them, since no one can be a Cynic from birth? Otherwise, it would be better to abandon them at once than to kill them this way. Look what we have reduced our Cynic to. We have stripped him of his kingship! True, but Crates married. You are speaking of a situation that arose from love. And the wife you offer as an example was another Crates. But we are examining ordinary marriages and how people can remain free from distraction. Looking at it this way, in the world as it is, marriage is not a leading priority for a Cynic.

Crates was a student of Diogenes. His wife was named Hipparchia. Upton quotes Menander (apud Diog. L.), “Thou wilt walk about with me in a cloak as once did his wife with Crates the Cynic.”

15. How, then, said he, shall he still be preserving the community? God help thee! Whether do they best serve mankind who fill their own place by bringing into the world two or three screaming children, or those who, as far they may, oversee all men, what they do, how they live, wherewith they concern themselves, and what duties they neglect? And were the Thebans more benefited by as many as left their little children behind, or by Epaminondas, who died childless? And did Priam, who begat fifty good-for-nothing sons, or Danaus, or Æolus, better serve the community than Homer? Shall, then, the command of an army or the writing of poems withdraw a man from marriage and fatherhood, and he shall not be thought to have gained nothing for his childlessness, but the kingship of a Cynic shall be not worth what it costs? It may be we do not perceive his greatness, nor do we worthily conceive of the character of Diogenes; but we turn away our eyes to the present Cynics, “watch-dogs of the dining-room,” who in nothing resemble those others, save perchance in breaking wind; but in no other thing. For else these things would not have moved us, nor should we have marveled if a Cynic will not marry nor beget children. Man! he hath begotten all mankind, he hath all men for his sons, all women for his daughters; so doth he visit all and care for all. Thinkest thou that he is a mere meddler and busybody in rebuking those whom he meets? As a father he doth it, as a brother, and as servant of the Universal Father, which is God.

15. How, then, he asked, will he still serve the community? God help you! Who serves humanity better? Those who do their part by bringing two or three screaming children into the world? Or those who, as far as they can, watch over everyone? They watch what people do, how they live, what concerns them, and what duties they neglect. Who benefited the Thebans more, all those who left young children behind, or Epaminondas, who died childless? Did Priam, who fathered fifty good-for-nothing sons, or Danaus, or Aeolus, serve the community better than Homer? Can commanding an army or writing poetry justify giving up marriage and fatherhood? Do we recognize that such a man gained something in return for having no children? Yet is a Cynic’s kingship not worth its cost? Perhaps we fail to recognize his greatness or properly understand the character of Diogenes. Instead, we turn our eyes to today’s Cynics, “watchdogs of the dining room,” who bear no resemblance to those earlier men. Perhaps they resemble them in breaking wind, but in nothing else. Otherwise, these concerns would not have troubled us. Nor would we have been surprised that a Cynic chooses not to marry or have children. Man! He has fathered all humanity. All men are his sons, and all women are his daughters. That is why he visits everyone and cares for everyone. Do you think he is merely a meddler and busybody when he rebukes those he meets? He does it as a father, as a brother, and as a servant of the Universal Father, who is God.

Danaus was the father of the fifty Danaidæ. Æolus is described in Od. x. as having six sons and six daughters.

τραπεζῆας πυλαωρούς. Il. xxi. 69.

16. If it please thee, ask of me also whether he shall have to do with affairs of public polity? Fool! dost thou seek a greater polity than that in whose affairs he is already concerned? Will it be greater if he come forward among the Athenians to say something about ways or means—he, whose part it is to discourse with all men, Athenians, Corinthians, Romans alike, not concerning means or ways, nor concerning peace or war, but about happiness and unhappiness, about good-fortune and ill-fortune, about slavery and freedom? And of a man that hath his part in so great a polity will you ask me if he shall attend to public affairs? Ask me also if he shall be a ruler; and again I shall say, Thou fool, what rule can be greater than his?

16. If you like, ask me also whether he will take part in public affairs. Fool! Are you looking for a greater political community than the one he already serves? Would it be greater if he stood before the Athenians to speak about public revenue and spending? His role is to speak with all people, Athenians, Corinthians, and Romans alike. He speaks not about revenue and spending, or peace and war, but about happiness and unhappiness. He speaks about good fortune and bad fortune, slavery and freedom. Will you ask whether a man who plays a part in so great a community will attend to public affairs? Ask me also whether he will be a ruler. Again I will say, You fool, what authority could be greater than his?

17. And to such a man there is need also of a certain kind of body. For if he shall appear consumptive, meager, and pale, his witness hath not the same emphasis. Not only by showing forth the things of the spirit must he convince foolish men that it is possible, without the things that are admired of them, to be good and wise, but also in his body must he show that plain and simple and open-air living are not mischievous even to the body: “Behold, even of this I am a witness, I and my body.” So Diogenes was wont to do, for he went about radiant with health, and with his very body he turned many to good. But a Cynic that men pity seems to be a beggar—all men turn away from him, all stumble at him. For he must not appear squalid; so that neither in this respect shall he scare men away; but his very austerity should be cleanly and pleasing.

17. Such a man also needs a certain kind of body. If he looks sickly, thin, and pale, his example carries less weight. He must show foolish people that goodness and wisdom are possible without the things they admire. He must convince them not only through his inner qualities, but also through his body. He must show that a plain, simple life outdoors does not harm even the body. “Look, my body and I bear witness to this too.” This is what Diogenes used to do. He went about glowing with health, and his very body turned many people toward goodness. But a Cynic whom people pity seems to be a beggar. All people turn away from him, and all find him an obstacle. He must not look filthy, so that his appearance does not drive people away either. Even his austere way of life should be clean and pleasing.

18. Much grace of body, then, must belong to the Cynic, and also quickness of mind, else he is a mere clot of slime and nothing else; for he must be ready and apt to meet all that may befall him. Thus when one said to Diogenes: Thou art that Diogenes who thinkest there are no Gods, he replied, And how may that be, seeing I hold thee hateful to the Gods? And again, when Alexander stood beside him, as he was lying asleep, and said:

18. A Cynic, then, must have great physical grace and a quick mind. Otherwise, he is nothing but a lump of slime. He must be ready and able to face all that may happen to him. Someone once said to Diogenes: You are that Diogenes who thinks there are no gods. He replied, How can that be, when I believe the gods hate you? And again, Alexander stood beside him while he lay asleep and said:

“Not all night must a man of counsel sleep,”

“A man who gives counsel must not sleep all night,”

he answered, ere he was yet awake:

he answered before he was awake:

“Warden of men, and with so many cares.”

“Guardian of men, with so many worries.”

That is, he completed the quotation by adding the next line (Il. ii. 24, 25). This was not a particularly impressive intellectual feat. But Epictetus clearly thought knowing Homer well enough to quote him in one’s sleep deserved praise. And he was right.

19. But before all things must his ruling faculty be purer than the sun, else he must needs be a gambler and cheater, who, being himself entangled in some iniquity, will reprove others. For, see how the matter stands: to these kings and tyrants, their spearmen and their arms give the office of reproving men, and the power to punish transgressors, yea, though they themselves be evil; but to the Cynic, instead of arms and spearmen, his conscience giveth this power. When he knows that he has watched and labored for men, and lain down to sleep in purity, and sleep hath left him yet purer; and that his thoughts have been the thoughts of one dear to the Gods, of a servant, and a sharer in the rule of Zeus; and he hath had ever at hand that

19. But above all, his ruling faculty must be purer than the sun. Otherwise, he is bound to be a gambler and a cheat, caught in wrongdoing himself while rebuking others. For this is how things stand. Kings and tyrants have spearmen and weapons that give them authority to rebuke people and power to punish wrongdoers. This holds even when they themselves are evil. But the Cynic gets this power from his conscience, not from weapons and spearmen. He knows he has kept watch and worked hard for others. He has gone to sleep pure, and sleep has left him purer still. He knows his thoughts have been those of someone dear to the gods, a servant who shares in Zeus's rule. And he has always had at hand that

“Lead me, O Zeus, and thou Destiny,

“Lead me, Zeus, and you, Destiny,

From a poem by Cleanthes.

and,

and,

“If thus it be pleasing to the Gods, so may it be”—

“If this pleases the gods, may it be so.”

wherefore, then, shall he not take heart to speak boldly to his brothers, to his children, in a word, to all his kin? For this reason, he that is in this state is no meddler or busybody, for when he overlooks human affairs he meddles not with foreign matters, but with his own affairs. Else, name the general a busybody when he overlooks his soldiers, and reviews them, and watches them, and punishes the disorderly. But if you have a flat cake under your cloak while you reprove others, I say, get hence rather into a corner, and eat what thou hast stolen—what are other men’s concerns to thee? For what art thou—the bull of the herd? or the queen bee? Show me the tokens of thy supremacy, such as nature hath given her. But if thou art a drone claiming sovereignty over the bees, thinkest thou not that thy fellow-citizens will overthrow thee, as bees do the drones?

Why, then, should he not have the courage to speak boldly to his brothers, his children, and all his kin? A man in this state is no meddler or busybody. When he watches over human affairs, he is not interfering in someone else’s business, but attending to his own. Otherwise, call a general a busybody for overseeing his soldiers, inspecting them, watching them, and punishing those who break discipline. But if you hide a flat cake under your cloak while scolding others, I say, go into a corner instead. Eat what you have stolen. What business do you have with other people’s concerns? What are you, the bull of the herd? Or the queen bee? Show me the signs of your authority, like those nature has given her. But if you are a drone claiming to rule the bees, don’t you think your fellow citizens will overthrow you? That is what bees do to drones.

20. And truly the Cynic must be so long-suffering as that he shall seem to the multitude insensate and a stone. Him doth none revile, nor smite, nor insult; but his body hath he given to any man to use at will. For he remembers that the worse must needs be vanquished by the better, whereinsoever it is the worse; and the body is worse than the multitude—the weaker than the stronger. Never, then, doth he go down to any contest where it is possible for him to be vanquished, but he yields up all that is not his own, and contends for nothing that is subject to others. But where there is question of the will and the use of appearances, then you shall see how many eyes he hath, so that you may say that compared with him Argus was blind. Is his assent ever hasty; or his desire idle; or his pursuit in vain; or his avoidance unsuccessful; or his aim unfulfilled? doth he ever blame, or cringe, or envy? This is his great study and his design; but as regards all other things, he lies on his back and snores, for all is peace. There is no thief of his will, nor tyrant; but of his body? yea; and of his chattels? yea, and also of his authority and his honors. What, then, are these things to him? So when one may seek to make him afraid on account of them—Go hence, he saith to him, and find out little children; it is to these that masks are dreadful, but I know they are made of clay, and that inside them there is nothing.

20. The Cynic must be so patient that the crowd sees him as unfeeling as a stone. No one can truly abuse, strike, or insult him. He has given his body over for anyone to treat as they please. He remembers that the inferior must be overcome by the superior wherever it is inferior. His body is weaker than the crowd, and the weaker must yield to the stronger. So he never enters a contest in which he can be defeated. He gives up everything that is not his own. He fights for nothing that is under another’s control. But when his will and his handling of impressions are at stake, see how many eyes he has. Compared with him, you might call Argus blind. Does he ever accept an impression too hastily? Does he ever desire without purpose, pursue in vain, or fail to avoid what he seeks to avoid? Does he ever fail to achieve his aim? Does he ever blame others, cringe, or envy? This is his great concern and purpose. As for everything else, he lies on his back and snores, for all is peaceful. No thief or tyrant can take control of his will. But his body? Yes. His possessions? Yes, and his authority and honors too. What, then, do these things matter to him? So when someone tries to frighten him with threats against these things, he says, Go away and find little children. Masks frighten them, but I know they are made of clay, and there is nothing inside.

21. On such a matter art thou now meditating. Therefore, if it please thee, in God’s name delay it yet awhile, and see first what ability thou hast for it. For mark what Hector speaks to Andromache: Go, he saith, rather into the house and weave—

21. This is what you are now considering. So, if you are willing, in God’s name, wait a little longer. First, see whether you have the ability for it. Notice what Hector says to Andromache: Go, he says, into the house instead and weave.

“For war’s the care Of every man, and more than all of me.” —Il. vi. 490.

“For war is every man’s responsibility, And mine more than anyone else’s.” Il. vi. 490.

Thus he knew where lay his own ability and her incapacity.

So he knew where his own abilities lay and where hers fell short.