1. The clearer be the characters in which a book is writ, the more pleasantly and conveniently shall any man read it. Thus also a man shall listen more conveniently to any discourse if it be conveyed in well-ordered and graceful words. Be it not said, then, that there is no faculty of expression, for this is the thought of a man both impious and cowardly—impious, for he holds in disesteem the gracious gifts of God, as if he would take away the serviceable faculty of seeing, or of hearing, or indeed this of speaking. Did God give the eyes for nothing? And was it for nothing that He mingled in them a spirit of such might and cunning as to reach a long way off and receive the impression of visible forms—a messenger so swift and faithful? Was it for nothing that He gave the intervening air such efficacy, and made it elastic, so that being, in a manner, strained, our vision should traverse it? Was it for nothing that He made Light, without which there were no benefit of any other thing?
1. The clearer the writing in a book, the more pleasantly and easily anyone can read it. Likewise, people can follow a speech more easily when its words are well arranged and graceful. So let no one say there is no gift of expression. That is the thought of someone both irreverent toward God and cowardly. He is irreverent because he despises God's gracious gifts. He might as well do away with the useful powers of sight, hearing, or speech itself. Did God give us eyes for nothing? Did he place within them, for nothing, a spirit of such power and skill? It reaches far away and receives impressions of visible forms, a messenger so swift and faithful. Was it for nothing that he gave the air between us and what we see such power and elasticity? This allows our sight to travel through it when it is, in a sense, stretched taut. Was it for nothing that he made light, without which nothing else would be of any use?
“My friends, fly all culture,” is a command attributed to Epicurus (Diog. L. x. 6). But neglecting literary form was common among philosophical writers of the Hellenistic period. It was by no means limited to the Epicureans.
The text of this passage is corrupt. I follow the reading Schweighäuser adopted from Wolf. However, Schweighäuser’s translation follows a different reading from the one he adopts in his text. It uses κινουμένου (being moved) instead of τεινομένου (being strained). The original, in all versions, is γινομένου, which makes no sense at all. See Preface, xxiii.
2. Man, be not unthankful for these things, nor yet unmindful of better things. For seeing and hearing, and, by Zeus, for life itself, and the things that work together to maintain it, for dried fruits, for wine, for oil, do thou give thanks to God. But remember that He hath given thee another thing which is better than all these—that, namely, which uses them, which approves them, which taketh account of the worth of each. For what is that which declareth concerning all these faculties how much each of them is worth? Is it the faculty itself? Heard you ever the faculty of vision tell aught concerning itself? or that of hearing? or wheat, or barley, or a horse, or a dog? Nay, but as ministers and slaves are they appointed, to serve the faculty which makes use of appearances. And if you would learn how much any of them is worth, of whom will you inquire? who shall give answer? How then shall any other faculty be greater than this, which both useth the others as its servants, and the same approveth each of them and declareth concerning them? For which of them knoweth what itself is, and what it is worth? Which of them knoweth when it behooves to make use of it, and when not? What is that which openeth and closeth the eyes, turning them away from things which they should not behold, and guiding them towards other things? Is it the faculty of vision? Nay, but the faculty of the Will. What is that which closeth and openeth the ears?—that in obedience to which they become busy and curious, or again, unmoved by what they hear? Is it the faculty of hearing? It is no other than that of the Will.
2. Do not be ungrateful for these things, or forget that there are better things. Give thanks to God for sight and hearing, and, by Zeus, for life itself and everything that sustains it. Give thanks for dried fruits, wine, and oil. But remember that he has given you something else, better than all these. It is the faculty that uses them, judges them, and considers the worth of each. What tells us how much each of these faculties is worth? Is it the faculty itself? Have you ever heard the faculty of sight say anything about itself? Or the faculty of hearing? Or wheat, barley, a horse, or a dog? No, they are appointed as attendants and slaves to serve the faculty that makes use of impressions. If you want to learn how much any of them is worth, whom will you ask? Who will answer? How, then, can any other faculty be greater than this one? It uses the others as servants, judges each of them, and declares their worth. Which of them knows what it is and what it is worth? Which knows when it should be used and when it should not? What opens and closes the eyes? What turns them away from things they should not see and guides them toward other things? Is it the faculty of sight? No, it is the faculty of the will. What closes and opens the ears? What directs them to listen eagerly and curiously, or to remain unmoved by what they hear? Is it the faculty of hearing? It is nothing other than the faculty of the will.
3. Being then so great a faculty, and set over all the rest, let it come to us and tell us that the best of existing things is the flesh! Not even if the flesh itself affirmed that it was the best, would any man have patience with it. Now what is it, Epicurus, which declares this doctrine, that the flesh is best, which wrote concerning the End of Being, and on Laws of Nature, and on the Canon of Truth?—which let thy beard grow? which wrote, when dying, that it was spending its last day and a happy one? Is it the flesh or the Will? Wilt thou affirm, then, that thou hast aught better than the Will? Nay, but art thou not mad—so blind, in truth, and deaf as thou art?
3. This faculty is so great and rules over all the others. Yet it tells us that the body is the best thing in existence! Even if the body itself claimed to be the best, no one would have patience with it. Now, Epicurus, what declares this doctrine that the body is best? What wrote about the End of Being, the Laws of Nature, and the Canon of Truth? What let your beard grow? What wrote, while dying, that it was spending its last day, and a happy one? Is it the body or the Will? Will you claim, then, that you have anything better than the Will? No, are you not mad, as blind and deaf as you truly are?
The writings listed are, of course, works by Epicurus. As he lay dying, he wrote to a friend (Diog. L. x. 22). He said he was spending a happy day, and his last.
4. What then? Shall any man contemn the other faculties? God forbid! Doth any man say that there is no use or eminence in the faculty of eloquence? God forbid—that were senseless, impious, thankless towards God. But to each thing its true worth. For there is a certain use in an ass, but not so much as in an ox; and in a dog, but not so much as in a slave; and in a slave, but not so much as in a citizen; and in citizens, but not so much as in governors. Yet not because other things are better is the use which anything affords to be contemned. There is a certain worth in the faculty of eloquence, but not so much as in the Will. When, then, I speak thus, let no man deem that I would have you neglect the power of eloquence, for I would not have you neglect your eyes, or ears, or hands, or feet, or raiment, or shoes. But if one ask me which is, then, the best of existing things, what shall I say? The faculty of eloquence I cannot say, but that of the Will, when it is made right. For this is that which useth the other, and all the other faculties, both small and great. When this is set right, a man that was not good becomes good; when it is not right, the man becomes evil. This is that whereby we fail or prosper—whereby we blame others, or approve them; the neglect of which is the misery, and the care of it the happiness, of mankind.
4. What then? Should anyone despise the other faculties? God forbid! Does anyone say that eloquence has no use or excellence? God forbid! That would be senseless, irreverent, and ungrateful to God. But give each thing its true worth. A donkey has its uses, but not as many as an ox. A dog has its uses, but not as many as a slave. A slave has his uses, but not as many as a citizen. Citizens have their uses, but not as many as governors. Yet we should not despise anything’s usefulness just because other things are better. Eloquence has a certain worth, but not as much as the Will. When I say this, no one should think I want you to neglect your power of eloquence. Nor would I want you to neglect your eyes, ears, hands, feet, clothes, or shoes. But suppose someone asks me which of all existing things is best. What should I say? I cannot say eloquence. It is the Will, when it is rightly directed. For the Will uses eloquence and all the other faculties, both small and great. When it is set right, a person who was not good becomes good. When it is not right, that person becomes evil. Through it we fail or prosper, blame others or approve of them. Neglecting it brings misery to humanity, and caring for it brings happiness.
5. But to take away the faculty of eloquence, and to say that there is in truth no such faculty, is not only the part of a thankless man toward Him who hath given it, but also of a cowardly. For such a one seemeth to me to fear lest if there be any faculty of this kind we shall not be able to despise it. Such are they also which say that there is no difference between beauty and ugliness. Then were a man to be affected in like manner on seeing Thersites and Achilles, or on seeing Helen and any common woman? Truly, a thought of fools and boors, and of men who know not the nature of each thing, but fear lest, if one perceive the difference, he shall be straightway swept away and overpowered by it. But the great thing is this—to leave to each the faculty that it hath, and so leaving it to scan the worth of the faculty, and to learn what is the greatest of existing things; and everywhere to pursue this, and be zealous about this, making all other things accessory to this, albeit, according to our powers, not neglecting even these. For of the eyes also must we take care, yet not as of the best thing; yet of these, too, by the very exercise of the best thing; since that shall in no other wise subsist according to Nature save by wise dealing in these matters, and preferring certain things to others.
5. But to deny the power of eloquence, and say no such ability exists, is both ungrateful and cowardly. It is ungrateful to him who gave it. Such a person seems to me afraid that, if this ability exists, we will be unable to disregard it. The same is true of those who say there is no difference between beauty and ugliness. Should a man feel the same when seeing Thersites as when seeing Achilles? Or when seeing Helen as when seeing any ordinary woman? This is truly the thinking of fools and boors, of people who do not understand the nature of each thing. They fear that recognizing the difference will immediately sweep them away and overpower them. But the important thing is this. Allow each thing its own ability, then examine that ability’s worth. Learn what is greatest among all things. Pursue it everywhere and devote yourself to it, making everything else secondary to it. Still, do not neglect these other things, as far as your abilities allow. We must care for our eyes too, but not as though they were the best thing we possess. We must care for them by exercising what is best in us. For what is best can function according to nature only by handling these matters wisely and preferring some things to others.
Stoic ἀπάθεια was far from a lack of feeling. Chrysippus believed that many things in the universe were created for their beauty alone. Zeller, 171.
6. But what is done in the world? As if a man journeying to his own country should pass by an excellent inn, and the inn being agreeable to him, should stay, and abide in it. Man, thou hast forgotten thy purpose; thy journeying was not to this, but through this. But this is pleasant. And how many other inns are pleasant, and how many meadows? yet merely for passing through. But thy business is this, to arrive in thy native country, to remove the fears of thy kinsfolk, to do, thyself, the duties of a citizen, to marry, to beget children, to fill the customary offices. For thou art not come into this world to choose out its pleasanter places, but to dwell in those where thou wast born, and whereof thou wast appointed to be a citizen. And so in some wise it is with this matter. Since, by the aid of speech and such like deliverance, we must come to our aim, and purify the Will, and order aright the faculty which makes use of appearances; and it is necessary that this deliverance of the doctrines come to pass by a certain use of speech, and with a certain art and trenchancy of expression, there are some which are taken captive by these things themselves, and abide in them—one in the gift of speech, one in syllogisms, one in sophisms, one in some such another of these inns, and there they linger and molder away, as though they were fallen among the Sirens.
6. But what actually happens in the world? A man traveling to his own country passes an excellent inn. He finds it pleasant, so he stays and settles there. Man, you have forgotten your purpose. Your journey was not to this place, but through it. But this is pleasant. And how many other inns are pleasant? How many meadows? Yet they are only places to pass through. Your task is to reach your homeland and relieve your family's fears. You must carry out your duties as a citizen, marry, have children, and hold the usual public offices. You did not come into this world to pick out its most pleasant places. You came to live where you were born and where you were appointed to be a citizen. Something similar happens in this matter. Through speech and other such ways of teaching, we must reach our goal. We must purify the will and properly guide the faculty that makes use of impressions. Teaching these principles requires a particular use of speech, with skill and force of expression. But some people become captivated by these very things and never move beyond them. One stays with eloquence, another with syllogisms, another with clever but misleading arguments. Others settle into some other inn of this kind. There they linger and waste away, as though they had fallen into the clutches of the Sirens.
7. Man, thy business was to make thyself fit to use the appearances that encounter thee according to Nature, not missing what thou pursuest, nor falling into what thou wouldst avoid, never failing of good fortune, nor overtaken of ill fortune, free, unhindered, uncompelled, agreeing with the governance of Zeus, obedient unto the same, and well-pleased therein; blaming none, charging none, able of thy whole soul to utter these lines:—
7. Man, your task was to prepare yourself to handle the impressions you encounter in accordance with Nature. You were to attain what you seek and escape what you wish to avoid. You were never to miss good fortune or be overtaken by misfortune. You were to be free, unhindered, and unforced, in agreement with the rule of Zeus, obedient and content with it. You were to blame no one and accuse no one, able to speak these lines with your whole soul:
“Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, Destiny!”
“Lead me, Zeus, and you, Destiny!”
Then, having this for thy business, if some little matter of eloquence please thee, or certain speculations, wilt thou stay and abide in them, and elect to settle in them, forgetting all that is at home? and wilt thou say, These things are admirable? Who saith they are not admirable? but for passing through, like inns. What should hinder one that spoke like Demosthenes to be unfortunate? or one that could resolve syllogisms like Chrysippus to be miserable, to grieve, to envy; in a word, to be troubled and unhappy? Nothing. Thou seest now that all these things are but inns, and of no worth; but our business was another thing. When I say these things to certain persons, they think I am rejecting all care about language or speculation. But I do not reject this; I reject the endless occupation with them, the putting our hopes in them. If a man by this teaching injureth those who hear him, reckon me also among those who do this injury. For I cannot, in order to please you, see that one thing is best and chief of all, and say that another is.
With this as your task, suppose some small point of eloquence or abstract reasoning pleases you. Will you linger over it and choose to settle there, forgetting everything waiting for you at home? Will you say, These things are admirable? Who says they are not admirable? But they are places to pass through, like inns. What prevents someone who speaks like Demosthenes from being unfortunate? Or someone who can solve syllogisms like Chrysippus from being miserable, grieving, or feeling envy? In short, what prevents such a person from being troubled and unhappy? Nothing. You see now that all these things are only inns, and have no worth. Our task was something else. When I say these things to certain people, they think I reject all attention to language or abstract reasoning. But I do not reject this. I reject endless absorption in them and placing our hopes in them. If someone harms his listeners by teaching this, count me among those who cause this harm. I cannot recognize one thing as best and most important, yet call another so just to please you.
Another short chapter discusses reasoning and expression (I. viii. Schw.). It approaches the subject from a somewhat different angle than the chapter I have included. There, Epictetus focuses mainly on the danger that weak-minded people may become too captivated by these skills: “For, in general, in every faculty acquired by the uninstructed and feeble there is danger lest they be elated and puffed up through it. For how could one contrive to persuade a young man who excels in such things that he must not be an appendage to them, but make them an appendage to him?”